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THE 


Encyclopedia  britannica 

LATEST   EDITION 

A    DICTIONARY   OF    ARTS,    SCIENCES,    AND 
GENERAL    LITERATURE 


NEir  MAPS  A.XD  MA.W  ORIGINAL  AMERICAN  ARTICLES  BY  EMINENT  A  UTHORS 
FULLY  ILLUSTRATED.  WITH  OVER  TEN  THOUSAND  PORTRAITS.  PLATES.  AND  ENGRA  fl.VCS 


ORIGINAL   NINTH   EDITION   IN  TWENTY-FIVE  VOLUMES   EDITED   BY 

Profs.  SPENCER   BAYNES,  LL.D.,  and  W.  ROBERTSON   SMITH,  LLD. 

ASSISTED    BY    OVER    ONE    THOUSAND    CONTRIBUTORS 


IN   THIRTY   VOLUMES   WITH 

New  American   Suppleivienx 


EDITED   UNDER  THE   PERSONAL   SUPERVISION   OF 

DAY    OTIS    KELLOGG,    D.  D. 

Formerly  Professor  of  English  Literature  and  History,   A'ansas  State  University,  etc.,  etc. 
ASSISTED  BY  A  CORPS  OF  EXPERIENCED  WRITERS 


TWENTIETH   CENTURY   EDITION 

REUSED,  IVITH  LARGE  ADDITIONS,  TO  JANUARY  i.  igor 


VOLUME   XIX 


THE  V^ERNER   COMPANY 
New  York  AKRON,  OHIO  Chicago  » 

1902 


I 

UMVERSITY  Ui-  (JAIJFORAU 
SAiNTA  BARBAIIA 


Encyclopsedia  Britannica. 

Vol.   XIX. (PHY-FRO). 

Total  number  of  Articles,  427. 
PRINCIPAL    CONTENTS. 


PHYSICAL    SCIENCES.    J.  Clerk  Maxwell,  late  Pro- 
fessor of  Exjierimeutal  Physics,  Cambridge. 
PHYSIOGNOMY.    Alexander  Macalister,M.D.,F.R.S., 

Professor  of  Anatomy,  Cambridge. 
PHYSIOLOGUS.    Prof.   J.    P.    X.    Land,    University    of 

Leyden. 
PHYSIOLOGY.    MICHAEL  Foster,  M.D.,  F.R.S.,  Profes- 
sor  of    Physiology,    University  of  Cambridge;  J.  G. 
M'Kendrick,  M.D.,  F.R.S.,  Professor  of  Physiology, 
University  of  Glasgow  ;  and  S.  Howard  Vines,  M.A., 
F.R.S.,  Fellow  of  Christ's  College,  Cambridge. 
PIANOFORTE.    A.  J.  HiPKINS. 
PIETISM.    Rev.  J.  F.Smith. 
PIGEON.    Prof.  Alfred  Newton,  F.R.S. 
PIGMENTS.     James  Paton,  Curator,  Corporation  Gal- 
leries of  Art,  Glasgow. 
PILGRIMAGE.    Rev.  R.  F.  Littledale,  D.C.L. 
PIN.    JA.MES  Paton. 

PINDAR.    R.  C.  Jebb,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  Greek,  Uni- 
versity of  Glasgow. 
PINE.    C.  Pierpoint  Johnson. 
PIPPI.     W.  M.  Rossetti,  Author  of  "Fine  Art.  chiefly 

Contemporary." 
PIQUET.    Henrt  Jones  ("Cavendish"  ). 
PIRACY'.    J.  Cladde  Webster,  Barrister-at-Law. 
PISA.    Prof.  Pasquale  Villari. 

PISANUS.    Prof.  MoRiTZ  Cantor,  University  of  Heidel- 
berg. 
PISCICULTURE.    G.  Brown  Goode,  U.S.,  National  Mu- 
seum, Washington. 
PISISTRATUS.    J.  G.  Frazer,  M.A. 
PITT.    Lord  Macaulay. 
PIUS  II.    Richard  Garxett,  LL.D. 
PIUS  IX.    J.  Bass  Millincer,  M.A. 
PLAGUE.    J.  F.  Payne.  M.D. 

PLAIN  SONG.    W.  S.  RocKSTUO,  Author  of  "  The  Chor- 
isters of  S.  Mary's." 
PLANAKIANS.    Prof.  Li'dwig  von  Graff,  Ph.D.,  School 

of  Forestry,  AschafTenburg. 
PLANTAGEn'et.   James  Gairdneb,  Public  Record  Oftice, 

London. 
PLANTIN.    P.  a.  Tiele,  Librarian  of  the  University  of 

Utrecht. 
PLATE.    Prof.  J.  II.  Middleton. 
PLATINUM.    W.Dittmar,  F.R.S. .Professorof  Chemistry, 

Anderson's  College,  Glasgow. 
PLATO.    Lewis    Campbell,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  Greek, 

University  of  St.  Andrews. 
PLAUTUS.    W.  Y.  Sellar,  LL.D.,  Professorof  Humanity, 

University  of  Kdinburgh. 
I'LESIOSAURIANS.    E.T.  Newton,  Palaontologist  to  the 

Geological  Survey  of  the  United  Kingdom. 
PLEURISY.    J.O.  Affleck,  M.D. 
PLINY.     F.  A.  Paley.M.A.,  LL.D, 

PLi'CKER.    Geo.  Ciirystal.  M.A.,  Professor  of  Mathe- 
matics. University  of  Edinburgh. 
PLUTARCH.    F.  A.Palev. 

PLYMOUTH  HKETHRKN.     F>rof.  T.  M.  LiNDSAT.  D.D. 
PNEUMATIC  DESPATCH.    J.  A.  EwiN(i,  li.Sc,  Professor 

of  Kngiiieerlng,  University  College,  Dundee. 
PNKU.MATI(;s.    Prof.  CaroillG.  Knott,  D.Sc,  Imperial 

University,  Toklo,  Japan. 
PNEUMONIA.    J.O.AFFLECK,  M.D. 
POE.    Prof.   W.   Minto,  Author  of  "  Characteristics   of 

English  Poets." 
POETRY.    TiiEonoBE  Watts. 
POG(ilO.      J.    AnniNfiToN    Symonds,    M.A.,    Autho-    %! 

"  Renaissance  in  Italy," 
POISONS.    Thomas  Stevenson.  M.D. ,  Lecturerou  t;hcm- 
iatry,  Guy's  Hospital.  London. 


POKER.    Henry  Jones. 

POLAND.    W.  R.  MoRFiLL,  M.A.,  and  P.  A.  Kropotkine. 

POLARITY.    A.Crum  Brown,  M.D.,  LL.D.,  Professor  of 
Chemistry,  University  of  Edinburgh. 

POLAR  REGIONS.    Clements  R.  Markham.C.B.,  Author 
of  '•  Threshold  of  the  Uuknown  Region." 

POLICE.    J.  E.  Davis,   Legal   Adviser  to  Metropolitan 
Police  Commissioners,  Loudon. 

POLITICAL  ECONOMY.    J.  K.  Ingram.  LL.D.,  Librarian. 
Trinity  College,  Dublin. 

POLO,  MARCO.    Col.  Henry  YvLE.C.li. 

POLYC.\RP.    Adolf  Harnack,  Professor  of  Church  His- 
tory, University  of  Giessen. 

POLY'NESIA.    Rev.  S.  J.  Whitmee. 

POLYZOA.    Prof.  E.  Ray  Lankester,  F.R.S. 

POMPEII.    E.  H.  Bunbury,  M.A.,  Author  of  "  History  of 
.\ncient  Geography." 

POMPEY.    Rev.  W.  J.  Brodribb,  M.A. 

PONTOON.     Lieut.-General    J.    T.    Walker,   R.E..  C.B., 
F.R.S.,  Surveyor-Geueral  of  India. 

POOR  LAWS.    J.  E.  Davis. 

POPE,  ALEXANDER.    Prof.  W.  Minto. 

POPEDOM.    J.  Bass  Mullinger,  M.  A. 

POPULATION.    Wynnard  Hooper,  M.A. 

PORTUG.\L.    H.  Morse  Stephens  and  H.  B.  Briggs. 

POST  OFFICE.    Edward  Edwards  aud  W.  B.  Coolky 

POTASSIUM.    Prof.  W.  Dittmar. 

POTATO.    M.  T.  Masters,  M.D.,  F.R.S.  and  W.  G.  Smith, 
Author  of  "  Diseases  of  Field  and  Garden  Crop.s  " 

POTTERY  AND  PORCELAIN.    Prof.  Middleton. 

POULTRY.    W.  B.  Tegetmeier,  F.Z.S.,  Author  of  "Man- 
ual of  Domestic  Economy." 

PRECEDENCE.    F.  Drummond. 

PREDESTINATION.    Rev.  Marcis  Dods,  D.D. 

PRESBYTERIANISM.    OsMiND  AIRY  and  Rev.  Prof    C 
A.  Briggs,  D.D. 

PRESCRIPTION.    J.  Williams  and  H.  GouDY. 

PRESERVED  FOOD.    James  Paton. 

PRESS  LAWS.    James  Williams,  M.A. , D.C.L 

PRESTER,  JOHN,    Col.  YULE. 

PRICE,  RICHARD.    Rev.  Thos.  Fowler,  M.A.,  President 
of  Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford. 

PRIEST.    Prof.  W.  Robertson  Smith,  LL.D. 

PRIESTLEY'.    J.  Ai.LANsoN  Picton.M.P. 

PROMOGENITURE.    Charles  I.  Elton,  Q.C.,  M  P. 

PRISON    DISCIPLINE.    Major  Arthur  Griffiths,  In- 
8]>ecti)r  of  Prisons.  Home  Department,  London. 

PROBABILITY.    Morgan  W.  Ckofton,  B.A.,  F.R.S. ,  Fel- 
low of  the  Royal  University  of  Ireland. 

PROCOPIUS.     James   Bryce.' D.C.L..  M. P.,  Regius  Pro- 
fessor of  Civil  Law,  Unlvtrsity  of  Oxford. 

PROJECTION.    OlaI's  IIenrici,  LL.D.,  F.R.S.,  Professor 
of  Mechanics,  City  of  London  Institute. 

PROMETHEUS.    Andrew  Lang,  M.A. 

PROPAGANDA.     Most  Rev.  Archbishop  D.  Jacobini. 

PKOPERTIUS.    ProJ.  J.  Percivai.  Postgate. 

PROPHET.    Pro''.  W.  R.  Smith, and  A.  Harnack. 

PROTOPLASM      Patrick  (iEODKs.  K.U.S.E. 

PROTOZOA.    Prof.  E.  Ray  Lankester. 

PROUDIION.    Thomas  Kirkip,  M.A, 

PROVE!J(;aL    LAN(;UAGK    and  literature.    Prot. 
Paui.  Meyep..   Director  of  the  ftcolc  Natlonale  des 
Djartes,  Paris. 
PROVENCE.    II.  B.  Briggs. 

'•KO^UKlis.niiOK  OF.    Rev.  A.B.David.son,  D.D. .LL.D.. 
Professor  of  Hebrew  and  Old  Testament  Exegesis,  New 
College.  Edinburgh. 
PROVINCE.    J.  G.  Frazer,  M.A. 


ENCYCLOPEDIA    BEITANNICA, 


P  H  Y-P  H  Y 


PHYLACTERY  {<j>vXaKTr]piov)  is  the  name  given  in 
the  New  Testament  to  thej'?3ri  (tefillin)  or  "prayer- 
thongs  "  of  the  Jews.  Every  Jew  wears  at  prayer  two  of 
these  thongs — (1)  the  hand-tefilla,  a  leather  thong  wound 
round  the  left  arm  and  supporting  a  small  ease  containing 
a  parchment  strip  with  the  passages  Exod.  xiii.  l-IO,  11-16, 
Deut.  vi.  4-9,  xi.  13-21  written  in  four  columns;  (2)  the 
head-tefilla,  a  similar  thong  with  the  four  passages  inscribed 
on  four  separate  slips  of  parchment,  and  worn  round  the 
head  so  that  the  box  with  the  texts  rests  on  the  forehead. 
The  use  of  these  phylacteries  is  justified  by  a  literal  inter- 
pretation of  expressions  in  the  passages  above  cited,  and 
they  form,  together  with  the  n'i"V  (zizith)  or  "  fringe " 
(Numb.  XV.  37  sq.)  and  the  ntltp  (meziiza)  above  the  door, 
the  three  sets  of  visible  .signs  by  which  the  Israelite  is 
constantly  reminded  of  his  duty  to  God.  The  zizith  is 
no  longer  placed  on  tlie  outer  garment  as  in  New  Testa- 
ment times  (Matt,  xxiii.  5),  but  on  the  wosllen  scarves 
called  ri'?t3  (tallith),  of  which  the  Jewish  man  always  wears 
one,  while  another  is  wound  round  the  head  and  neck 
during  prayer.  The  mezQza  is  now  a  longish  box  fixed 
over  the  right  doorjjost  of  houses  or  rooms  and  containing 
a  parchment  with  Deut.  vi.  4-9,  xi.  13-21. 

In  their  origin  there  can  be  littlo  doubt  that  the  phylacteries 
nvo,  according  to  the  proper  sense  of  the  Greek  word,  a  kind  of 
amulet,  not  essentially  (lilferent  from  the  Aramaic  kmCi,  and  in 
fact  "the  Hebrew"  of  the  Hcxapla  uses  the  word  "  pliylacteries" 
for  the  amulets  [E.V.  pillows)  of  Ezck.  xiii.  18.  Phylactery  and 
mezuza  were  supposed  to  keep  off  hurtful  demons  (Targ.  on  Cant. 
viii.  3).  For  furtlicr  particulars,  see  Surenhusius,  Mishnn,  i.  9  sq., 
nnd  Bodenschatz,  Kirch.  Verf.  d.  heutigcn  Judcn,  iv.  9  sq. 

PHYLLOXERA.     See  Vine.' 

PHYSICAL  CONSTANTS. -i See  Weights  and  Mea^ 

SURES. 

PHYSICAL  GEOGRAPHY.''  See  vol.  x.  pp.  210-212.< 

PHYSICAL  SCIENCES.'     According  to  the  original 

meaning   of    the  word,   physical    science   would    be    that 

knowledge  which  is  conversant  with  the  order  of  nature — 

that   is,  *ith   the   regular  succession   of   events   whether 


'  Tlie  paper  of  the  late  Professor  J.  Clerk  Maxwell  which  is  "pre- 
sented to  the  reader  under  this  head  was  prepared  at  the  time  when 
the  ninth  edition  of  the  Encyctopscd ia  Britayinira  was  being  planne<h 
and  bore  in  his  MS.  the  title  "Remarks  on  the  Classification  of  the 
fliysical  Sciences." 

19-1 


mechanical  or  vital — iii  so  far  as  it  has  been  reduced  to 
a  scientific  form.  The  Greek  word  "  physical  "  would  thus 
be  the  exact  equivalent  of  the  Latin  word  "  natural." 
In  the  actual  development,  however,  of  modern  science 
and  its  terminology  these  .two  words  have  come  to  be 
restricted  each  to  one  of  the  two  great  branches  into  which 
the  knowledge  of  nature  is  divided  according  to  its  sub- 
ject-matter. Natural  science  is  now  understood  to  refer 
to  the  study  of  organized  bodies  and  their  development, 
wliile  physical  «;  science  investigates  those  phenomena 
primarily  which  are  observed  in  things  without  life, 
though  it  does  not  give  up  its  claim  to  pursue  this  investi- 
gation when  the  same  phenomena  take  place  in  the  body 
of  a  living  being.  •  In  forming  a.  classification  of  sciences 
the  aim  must  be  to  determine  the  best  arrangement  ol 
them  in  the  state  in  which  they  now  exist.  We  .there- 
fore make  no  attempt  to  map  out  a  scheme  for  the  science 
of  future  ages.  We  can  ho  more  lay  down  beforehand 
the  plan  according  to  which  science  will  be  developed  by 
our  successors  than  we  can  anticii>ate  the  particular  di» 
coveries  which  they  will  make,  fitill  less  can  we  found 
our  cla.ssificatioh  on  the  order  in  time  according  to  which 
different  sciences  have  been  developed.  This  wo\ild  be  no 
more  scientific  than  the  classification  of  the  properties  of 
matter  according  to  the  senses  by  which  wo  have  become 
acquainted  with  their  existence. 

It  is  manifest  that  there  are  some  sciences,  of  which  we 
may  take  arithmetic  as  the  type,  in  which  the  subject- 
Inatter  is  abstract,  capable  of  e.xact  definition,  and  incap- 
able of  any  variation  arising  from  causes  unknown  to  us 
which  would  in  the  slightest  degree  alter  its  properties. 
Thus  in  arithmetic  the  properties  of  numbers  dciicnd 
entirely  on' the  definitions  of  these  numbers,  and  these 
definitions  may  be  perfectly  understood  by  any  person  wlio 
will  attend  to  them.  •(•  The  same  is  true -of  theoretical 
geometry,  though,  as  this  science  is  associated  in  our 
minds  with  i)ractical  geometry,  it  is  difficult  to  aVoid 
thinking  of  the  probability  of  qrror  arising  from  unknown 
causes  affecting  the  actual  mcasurem«nt  of  the  quantities. 
There  are  other  sciences,  again,  of  which  we  may  take 
biology  as  the  type,  in  which  tlie  su.bjcct-matter  is  con- 
crete, not  capable  of  exact  definition,  and  subject  to  the 
influence  of  manv  clauses  quite  unknown  to  us      Thu»  ia 


PHYSICAL     SCIENCES 


biology  many  abstract  words  such  as  "  species,"  "  genera- 
tion,"&c.,  may  be  employed,  but  the  only  thing  which  we 
can  define  is  the  concrete  individual,  and  the  ideas  which 
the  most  accomplished  biologist  attaches  to  such  words  as 
"  species  "  or  "  generation  "  have  a  very  different  degree  of 
exactness  from  those  which  mathematicians  associate,  say, 
with  the  class  or  order  of  a  surface,  or  with  the  umbilical 
generation  of  conicoids.  Sciences  of  this  kind  are  rich  in 
facts,  and  will  be  well  occupied  for  ages  to  come  in  the 
co-ordination  of  these  facts,  though  their  cultivators  may 
be  cheered  in  the  meantime  by  the  hope  of  the  discovery 
of  laws  like  those  of  the  more  abstract  sciences,  and  may 
indulge  their  fancy  in  the  contemplation  of  a  state  of 
scientific  knowledge  when  maxims  cast  in  the  same  mould 
as  those  which  apply  to  our  present  ideas  of  dead  matter 
will  regulate  all  our  thoughts  about  living  things. 

What  is  commonly  called  "physical  science "  occupies 
a  position  intermediate  between  the  abstract  sciences  of 
arithmetic,  algebra,  and  geometry  and  the  morphological 
and  biological  sciences.  The  principal  physical  sciences 
are  as  follows. 

A.  The  Fundamental  Science  of  Dynamics,  or  the  doctrine 
of  the  motion  of  bodies  as  affected  hy  force. — The  divisions 
of  dynamics  are  the  following.  (1)  Kinematics,  or  the 
investigation  of  the  kinds  of  motion  of  which  a  body 
or  system  of  bodies  is  capable,  without  reference  to  the 
cause  of  these  motions.  This  science  differs  from  ordinary 
geometry  only  in  introducing  the  idea  of  motion, — that  is, 
change  of  position  going  on  continuously  in  space  and 
time.  Kinematics  includes,  of  course,  geometry,  but  in 
every  existing  system  of  geometry  the  idea  of  motion  is 
freely  introduced  to  explain  the  tracing  of  lines,  the 
sweeping  out  of  surfaces,  and  the  generation  of  solids. 
(2)  Statics,  or  the  investigation  of  the  equilibrium  of  forces, 
— that  is  to  say,  the  conditions  under  which  a  system  of 
forces  may  exist  without  producing  motion  of  the  body  to 
which  they  are  applied.  Statics  includes  the  discussion  of 
systems  of  forces  which  are  equivalent  to  each  other.  (3) 
Kinetics,  or  the  relations  between  the  motions  of  material 
bodies  and  the  forces  which  act  on  them.  Here  the  idea 
of  matter  as  something  capable  of  being  set  in  motion  by 
force,  and  requiring  a  certain  force  to  generate  a  given 
motion,  is  first  introduced  into  physical  science.  (4) 
Energetics,  or  the  investigation  of  the  force  which  acts  ■ 
between  two  bodies  or  parts  of  a  body,  as  dependent  on 
the  conditions  under  which  action  takes  place  between  one 
body  or  part  of  a  body  and  another  so  as  to  transfer 
energy  from  one  to  the  other. 

The  science  of  dynamics  may  be  divided  in  a  different 
manner  with  respect  to  the  nature  of  the  body  whose 
motion  is  studied.  This  forms  a  cross  division,  (1)  Dyna- 
mics of  a  particle ;  including  its  kinematics  or  the  theory 
of  the  tracing  of  curves,  its  statics  or  the  doctrine  of  forces 
acting  at  a  point,  its  kinetics  or  the  elementary  equations 
of  motion  of  a  particle,  and  its  energetics,  including,  as 
examples,  the  theory  of  collision  and  that  of  central  forces. 
(2)  Dynamics  of  a  connected  system,  including  the  same 
subdivisions.  This  is  the  most  important  section  in  the 
whole  of  physical  science,  as  every  dynamical  theory  of 
natural  phenomena  must  be  founded  on  it.  The  sub- 
divisions of  this,  again,  are — a.  dynamics  of  a  rigid 
system,  or  a  body  of  invariable  form ;  h.  dynamics  of  a 
fluid,  including  the  discussion  (a)  of  its  possible  motion, 
{B)  of  the  conditions  of  its  equilibrium  (hydrostatics), , 
(y)  of  the  action  of  force  in  producing  motion  (hydro- 
dynamics, not  so  unsatisfactory  since  Helmholtz,  Stokes, 
and  Thomson's  investigations),  and  (8)  of  the  forces  called 
into  play  by  change  of  volume ;  c.  dynamics  of  an  elastic 
body  ;  d.  dynamics  of  a  viscous  body. 

£.  The  Secondary  Physical  Sciences, — Each   of   these 


sciences  consists  of  two  divisions  or  stages.  In  the  ele- 
mentary stage  it  is  occupied  in  deducing  from  the  observed 
phenomena  certain  general  laws,  and  then  employing  these 
laws  in  the  calculation  of  all  varieties  of  the  phenomena. 
In  the  dynamical  stage  the  general  laws  already  discovered 
are  analysed  and  shown  to  be  equivalent  to  certain  fornis 
of  the  dynamical  relations  of  a  connected  system  (A,  2), 
and  the  attempt  is  made  to  discover  the  nature  of  the 
dynamical  system  of  which  the  observed  phenomena  are 
the  motions.  This  dynamical  stage  includes,  of  course, 
several  other  stages  rising  one  above  the  other ;  for  we 
may  successfully  account  for  a  certain  phenomenon,  say 
the  turning  of  a  weathercock  towards  the  direction  of  the 
wind,  by  assuming  the  existence  of  a  force  having  a  parti- 
cular direction  and  tending  to  turn  the  tail  of  the  cock  in 
that  direction.  In  this  way  we  may  account  not  only  for 
the  setting  of  the  weathercock  but  for  its  oscillations  about 
its  final  position.  This,  therefore,  is  entitled  to  rank  as  a 
dynamical  theory.  But  we  may  go  on  and  discover  a 
new  fact,  that  the  air  exerts  a  pressure  and  that  there  is 
a  greater  pressure  on  that  side  of  the  cock  on  which  the 
wind  blows.  This  is  a  further  development  of  the  theory, 
as  it  tends  to  account  for  the  force  already  discovered. 
We  may  go  on  and  explain  the  dynamical  connexion  be- 
tween this  inequality  of  pressure  and  the  motion  of  the 
air  regarded  as  a  fluid.  Finally,  we  may  explain  the 
pressure  of  the  air  on  the  hypothesis  that  the  air  consists 
of  molecules  in  motion,  which  strike  against  each  other  and 
against  the  surface  of  any  body  exposed  to  the  air. 

The  dynamical  theories  of  the  different  physical  sciences 
are  in  very  different  stages  of  development,  and  in  almost 
all  of  them  a  sound  knowledge  of  the  subject  is  best 
acqiiired  by  adopting,  at  least  at  first,  the  method  which 
we  have  called  "elementary," — that  is  to  say,  the  study 
of  the  connexion  of  the  phenomena  peculiar  to  the  science 
without  reference  to  any  dynamical  explanations  or  hypo- 
theses.    Thus  we  have — 

(1)  Theory  of  gravitation,  with  discussion  of  the  weight 
and  motion  of  bodies  near  the  earth,  of  the  whole  of 
physical  astronomy,  and  of  the  figure  of  the  earth.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  djoiamics  here,  but  we  can  hardly  say 
that  there  is  even  a  beginning  of  a  dynamical  theory  of 
the  method  by  which  bodies  gravitate  towards  each  other. 

(2)  Theory  of  the  action  of  pressure  and  heat  in  chang- 
ing the  dimensions  and  state  of  bodies.  This  is  a  very 
large  subject  and  might  be  divided  into  two  parts,  one 
treating  of  the  action  of  pressure  and  the  other  of  heat. 
But  it  is  much  more  instructive  to  study  the  action  of 
both  causes  together,  because  they  produce  effects  of  the 
same  kind,  and  therefore  mutually  influence  each  ether. 
Hence  the  term  "thermodynamics"  mighf  be  extended  to 
the  whole  subject  were  it  not  that  it  is  already  rastricted  to 
a  very  important  department  relating  to  the  transformation 
of  energy  from  the  thermal  to  the  mechanical  form  and 
the  reverse.  The  divisions  of  the  subject  are  seven,  (a) 
Physical  states  of  a  substance, — gaseous,  liquid,  and  solid ; 
elasticity  of  volume  in  all  three  states ;  elasticity  of  figure 
in  the  solid  state ;  viscosity  in  all  three  states ;  plasticity 
in  the  solid  state  ;  surface-tension,  or  capillarity  ;  tenacity 
of  solids  ;  cohesion  of  liquids  ;  adhesion  of  gases  tn  liquids 
and  solids.  (6)  Effects  of  heat  in  raising  temperature, 
altering  size  and  form,  changing  physical  state,  (c)  Ther- 
mometry, {d)  Calorimetry.  (e)  Thermodynamics,  or  the 
mutual  convertibility  of  heat  and  work.  (/)  Dissipation 
of  energy  by  diffusion  of  matter  by  mixture,  diffusion  of 
motion  by  internal  friction  of  fluids,  diffusion  of  heat  by 
conduction.  (^)  Theory  of  propagation  of  sound,  vibra- 
tions of  strings,  rods,  and  other  bodies. 

(3)  Theory  ■  of  radiance.  (a)  Geometrical  optics ; 
theory  of  conjugate  foci  and  of  instruments.     (6)  Ve'ocity 


P  H  Y  — P  H  Y 


of  light  in  different  media,  (c)  Prismatic  analysis  of 
light, — spectroscopy,  radiant  heat,  visible  radiance, 
ultra-violet  rays,  calorescence,  <fec.,  fluorescence,  &c. 
(d)  Colours  of  thin  plates,  diffraction,  &c.  {d')  Proof  of 
the  existence  of  wave-lengths  and  wave-periods  (prepara- 
tion for  dynamical  theory),  (e)  Polarized  light,  radiant 
heat,  (fee.  (e')  The  disturbance  is  transverse  to  the  ray. 
(/)  Quantity  of  energy  in  the  total  radiation  from  a  hot 
body ;  Provost's  theory  ot  .exchanges,  <fec.  {cf)  Theory  of 
three  primary  colours. 

(4)- Electricity  and  magnetism,  (a)  Electrostatics,  or 
distribution  and  effects  of  electricity  in  equilibrium.  (6) 
Electrokinematics,  or  distribution  of  currents  in  conductors, 
(c)  Magnetism  and  magnetic  induction  (diamagnetism, 
«fec.).  (d)  Electromagnetism,  or  the  effects  of  an  electric 
current  at  a  distance.  Under  (6)  we  may  discuss  electro- 
chemistry, or  the  theory  of  electrolysis ;  under  (c)  terres- 
trial magnetism  and  ship's  magnetism;  and  after  {d)  comes 
electrokinetics,  or  electromagnetic  phenomena  considered 
with  reference  to  the  fundamental  science  of  dynamics. 
There  is  also  Faraday's  discovery  of  the  effect  of  magnet- 
ism on  light  and  the  electromagnetic  theory  of  light. 

Chemistry  is  not  included  in  this  list,  because,  though 
dynamical  science  is  continually  reclaiming  large  tracts  of 
good  ground  from  the  one  side  of  chemistry,  chemistry 
is  extending  with  still  greater  rapidity  on  the  other  side 
into  regions  where  the  dynamics  of  the  present  day  must 
put  her  hand  upon  her  mouth.  Chemistry,  however,  is  a 
physical  science,  and  a  physical  science  which  occupies  a 
very  high  rank.  (j.  c.  m.) 

PHYSIOGNOMY.  By  the  Act  of  ParHament  17 
George  TI.  c.  5  all  persons  pretending  to  have  skill  in 
physiognomy  were  deemed  rogues  and  vagabonds,  and 
were  liable  to  be  publicly  whipped,  or  sent  to  the  house 
of  correction  until  nest  sessions.  ^  The  pursuit  thus  stigma- 
tized as  unlawful  is  one  of  great  antiquity,  and  one  which 
in  ancient  and  mediaeval  times  had  an  extensive  though 
now  almost  forgotten  literature.  Physiognomy  was  re- 
garded by  those  who  cultivated  it  as  a  twofold  science — 
(1)  a  mode  of  discriminating  character  by  the  outward 
appearance  and  (2)  a  method  of  divination  from  form 
and  feature.  It  was  very  early  noticed  that  the  good 
and  evil  passions  by  their  continual  exercise  stamp  their 
impress  on  the  face,  and  that  each  particular  passion  has 
its  own  expression.  Thus  "far  physiognomy  is  a  branch  of 
physiology,  and  from  a  very  early  age  of  human  thought 
it  attracted  philosophic  attention.  But  in  its  second 
aspect  it  touched  astrology,  of  which  Galen  ^  gays  that 
the  physiognomical  part  is  the  greater,  and  this  aspect 
of  the  subject  bulked  largely  in  the  fanciful  literature  of 
the  Middle  Ages. 

The  name  originated  with  the  Greeks,  who  called  it 

<i>xfTioyv(i>iiia,  (jjiKrioyvtonovia,  or  i^vcrioyvtajtxxrvvi).  Accord- 
ing to  Principal  BlackwelP  of  Aberdeen,  Homer  wrote 
upon  the  lines  of  the  hand  ;  but  this  is  not  supported  by 
classical  authority.  That  Homer  was  a  close  observer  of 
appearance  as  correlated  with  character  is  shown  in  his 
description  of  Thersites*  and  elsewhere.  Hippocrates, 
writing  about  450  B.C.,  refers  to  this  subject,  but  not  in 

'  Tlio  Act  39  Elizalieth  c.  4  declared  "all  persons  fayning  to 
have  knowledge  of  Phisiognomio  or  like  Fantastical!  Ymaginacious  " 
liable  to  "be  stripped  naked  from  the  middle  npward.s  and  openly 
whipped  nntil  hi.s  body  be  blondyc."  This  was  modified  by  13  Anne 
c.  26,  still  further  by  17  Georp;e  II.  c.  5,  which  was  re-enacted  by  5 
George  IV.  c.  83.     This  last  Act  only  specifies  palmtstry. 

'  Galen,  Uepl  KaTaMadiis  wpoyvurriKd  (ed.  Kiihn,  xii.  630). 

*  Proofs  of  l/tt  Inquiry  into  the  Life  and  WrittTigs  of  Homer, 
London,  1747. 

*  II.,  ii.  214.  See  also  Blackwell's  Tn/iuiry,  2d  ed.,  1736,  p.  330. 
A  physiognomical  ftiidy  of  the  Homeric  heroes  is  given  by  llalalas, 
Chronogr.,  ed.  Dindorf,  v.  p.  105. 


detail.*  He  believed  in  the  influence  of  environment  in 
determining  disposition,  and  in  the  reaction  of  these  upon 
feature, — a  view  in  which  he  is  supported  later  by  Trogus. 
Galen  speaks  of  it  at  more  length  in  his  work  Yltpl  tZv 
Tjjs  ^K^j/s  Tjduiv,  in  which,  having  discussed  the  nature 
and  immortality  of  the  soul,  he  proceeds  in  chapter  vii.  to 
a  brief  study  of  physiognomy  (ed.  Kiihn,  iv.  795).  How- 
ever, at  the  end  of  the  chapter  he  passes  over  the  current 
physiognomical  speculations,  saying  that  he  might  criticize 
them  but  feared  to  waste  time,  and  become  tedious  over 
them.  In  the  eighth  chapter  he  quotes  with  approbation 
the  Hippocratic  doctrine  referred  to  above ;  and  in  a 
later  work,  Hepl  KaraKXiaewi  irpoyvitXTTiKa,  he  speaks  of 
its  relations  to  medicine  thus :  "  Hippocrates  igitur,  et 
vetustate  admodum  notus  et  scientia  admirandus,  in- 
quit,  'quocunque  exercentes  medicinam,  physiognomonise 
sunt  expertes,  horum  mens  in  tenebras  devoluta  torpida 
senescit,' "  &c^  We  learn  both  from  lamblichus '  and 
Porphyry  *  that  Pythagoras  was  in  the  habit  of  diagnos- 
ing the  characters  of  candidates  for  pupilage  before  ad- 
mitting them.  However,  he  seems  to  have  discredited 
the  current  physiognomy  of-  the  schools,  as  he  rejected 
Cylo  the  Crotonian  from  his  discipleship  on  account  of 
his  professing  these  doctrines,  and  thereby  was  brought 
into  considerable  trouble.*  Plato  also  tells  us  that  Socrates 
predicted  the  promotion  of  Alcibiades  from  his  appearance; 
and  Apuleius '"  speaks  of  Socrates  recognizing  the  abilities 
of  Plato  at  first  view.  On  the  other  hand,  it  has  been 
recorded  by  Cicero"  that  a  certain  physiognomist,  Zopyrus, 
who  professed  to  know  the  habits  and  manners  of  men  from 
their  bodies,  eyes,  face,  and  forehead,  characterized  Socrates 
as  stupid,  sensual,  and  dull  (bardus),  "  in  quo  Alcibiades 
cachinnum  dicitur  sustulisse."  Alexander  Aphrodisiensis  ^^ 
adds  that,  when  his  disciples  laughed  at  the  judgment, 
Socrates  said  it  was  true,  for  such  had  been  his  nature 
before  the  study  of  philosophy  had  modified  it.  Zopyrus 
is  also  referred  to  by  Maximus  Tyrius^^  as  making  his 
recognitions  "  intuitu  solo." 

That  one's  occupation  stamps  its  impress  on  the  out- 
ward appearance  was  also  noticed  at  an  early  period.  In 
the  curious  poem  in  praise  of  literature  found  in  the 
Sallier  papyrus  (II.)  in  the  British  Museum  this  is  ex- 
patiated on,  and  the  effects  of  divers  handicrafts  on  the 
workmen  are  compared  with  the  elevating  influences  of  a 
literary  life  by  an  Egyptian  scribe  of  the  Xllth  Dynasty, 
perhaps  2000  years  B.c.^*  Josephus  tells  us  that  Ca;sar 
detected  the  pretence  of  the  spurious  Alexander  by  his 
rough  hands  and  surface.'^ 

The  first  systematic  treatise  which  has  come  down  to 
us  is  that  attributed  to  Aristotle,^"  in  which  he  devotes 
six  chapters  to  the  consideration  of  the  method  of  study, 
the  general  signs  of  character,  the  ])articular  appearances 
characteristic  of  the  dispositions,  of  strength  and  weakness, 

'  Il'ipi  aipuu,  vSdruv,  riiruix  fed,  Eiibn.  i.  6471. 

«  Op.  cit.,  xi\.  p.  630. 

'  Ilcpi  piou  IIuflayopiKoO  XiSvot,  i.  17,  Amsterdam,  1707,  p.  59. 

'  De  vita  Pylhagorie,  Amsterdam,  1707,  p.  16.  This. author  tells 
ns  that  ho  applied  the  same  ride  to  his  friends.  See  also  Auliu 
Gellius,  L  ix.  "  lambliohus,  p.  49. 

'»  Philosophi  Platonici,  i.,  "De  dogniatc,"  Leyden,  1714,  p.  3(. 

"  De/ato,  Geneva,  1684,  iii.  p.  303,  1.  25. 

"  II<pi  (IfjJipixiiirii,  §  6,  London,  1663. 

"  Diss.,  XV.,  Cambridge,  1703,  p.  157. 

"  Select  Papyri,  pi.  XV.,  xijc.,  and  (Anasta-si)  ibid.,  cxiTiii.-cxxxiiJ. 

'"  Ant.,  xvii.  12,  2. 

"  Authors  differ  in  their  views  as  to  its  authenticity,  but  Diogenes 
Laertius  (v.  22)  and  Stolwus  (Serin.,  clxxxix.)  both  believe  it  to  bo 
genuine  The  chief  dilhculty  is  the  reference  to  a  ccitain  sophist, 
Dionysius,  but  this  is  probably  an  interpolation.  There  are  phjuio- 
gnomic  references  in  other  writings  of  Aristotle  (cf.  Anal,  pr.,  ii.  c. 
30  ;  Hist,  anim.,  i.  8,  kc.)  suflicient  to  justify  the  attribution  of  the 
treatise  to  him.  On  tliis,  see  Franz,  Preface,  p.  vi.  tq.,  of  his  Scrip- 
tores  physiuijnomias  veieits,  Lcipsic  1780. 


PHYSIOGNOMY 


o£  genius  and  stupidity,  of   timidity,  impudence,  anger, 
and  their  opix>sites,  &c.     Then  he  studies  the  physiognomy 
of  the  sexes,  and  the  characters  derived  from  the  different 
features,  and   from  colour,  hair,   body,    limbs,   gait,  and 
voice.     He  compares  the  varieties  of  mankind  to  animals, 
the  male  to  the  lion,  the  female   to  the   leopard.     The 
general    character   of  the    work    may   be  gathered  fromi 
the  following  specimen.     While  discussing  noses,  he  says 
that  those  with  thick  bulbous  ends  belong  to  persons  who 
are .  insensitive,    swinish;    sharp -tipped  .belong    to    the 
irascible,  those  easily  provoked,  like  dogs  ;  rounded,  large, 
obtuse  noses  to  the  magnanimous,  the  lion-like  ;  slender 
hooked  noses  to  the  eagle-like,  the  noble  but  grasping; 
round-tipped  retrousse  noses  to  the  luxurious,  like  barn- 
door fowl ;  noses  vrith  a  very  slight  notch  at  the  root  belong 
to  the  impudent,  the  crow-Like  ;  while  snub  noses  belong 
to  persons  of  luxurious  habits,  whom  he  compares  to  deer  ; 
open    nostrils   are    signs   of   passion,   <fec.     Several    good 
editions  have  been  published,^  and  numerous  voluminous 
commentaries  written  upon  it;-  most  subsequent  authors 
have  copied  from    it,  with  or  witliout  acknowledgment. 
References  exist    to   a  work  on    physiognomy  by   Theo- 
phrastus,  but  it  is  not  extant ;  and  the  next  important 
author  is  i&elampus,  the  Egyptian  hierogrammateus,  who 
lived  at  the  court  of  Ptolemy  Philadelphus,  and  wrote, 
about  270  B.C.,  the  work  Uepl    iraXjiMv  /xovtik^.     This, 
while  descriptive,  like  that  of  Aristotle,  deals  largely  in 
Dmens,  in  divination  from  neevi  and  the  twitchings  of  limbs. 
It   was    edited   by  Camillus  Peruscus,  and  ^published  at 
Rome  (1545)  along  with  those  of   Polemon  and  Adaman- 
tius.'     References  to  physiognomy  are  to  be  found  in  many 
of   the  Greek  classics.*     Apion  speaks  of   the   metopo- 
scopists  who  judge  by  the  appearance  of  the  face,  and 
Cleanthes  the  Stoic  says  it  is  possible  to  tell  habits  from 
the  aspect  (cf.  Ecclus.   xix.  29,  30).  "^  Polemon  .  (<•.   150 
A.D.)  is  the  next  in  order  who  has  left  a  treatise  on  the 
subject,  similar  in  character  to  that  of  Aristotle;  but  he 
excels  in  graphic  descriptions  of  different  dispositions  and 
differs  only  from  Aristotle  in  some  of    his  animal   com- 
parisons.    The  best  modern  edition  of  his  work  is  contained 
in  Franz's  Scriptores  physioc/rtomiai  veteresf  It  was  trans- 
lated into   Latin   and   published  at  Venice'  by  Nicholas 
Petreius  in  1534.     This  book  was  referred  to  by  Albertus 
Magnus,  who  attributes  to  its  author  a  second  work  on  'the 
subject.     A  more  important  contribution  to  the  literature 
of  physiognomy  was  added  by  a  converted  Jew,  Adaman- 
tius,  about  415.     This  work  is  in  two  books,  the  first  on 
the  expression  of  the  eye,  the  second  on  physiognomy  in 
general,  mostly  Aristotelian    in  character.     He  professes 
to  have  learned  much  from  the  Egj-ptians,  and  tells  us  that 
nature  speaks  in  the  forehead  and  face  and  in  the  silence 
of  the   mouth.  .  He  follows   Aristotle   in   holding  rather 
a  low  opinion  of  the  intellect  of   the  female  sex,  whom 
he  makes  the  subject  of  .some  rather  depreciating    com- 
parisons.     His  work  was  edited  with  the  'foregoing  by 
Franz.'    Artemidorus,  Loxus,  Philemon,  Posidonius,*  Con- 


^  That  of  J.  G.  Franz  (Leipsic,  1780)  is  the  best ;  Audreas  Lacuna 
published  a  Latin  version,  Paris,  1535  ;  Willichius,  another  at 
Wittenberg,  1538. 

^  Fontain's  Comvientary  (Paris,  1611),  Camillus  Baldus  of  Bologna 
(1621),  Sanchez  of  Toulouse  (1636). 

3  And  later  by  Franz  {op,  cit.,  p.  470).'    _ 

*  See  an  interesting  paper  on  "  Stretching  and  Yawning  as  Signs  of 
Madness,"  by  Professor  Ridgeway  {Travis.  Camh.  Philol.  Soc,  vol.  i. 
p.  210),  which  refers  to' Aristoph.,  Il'asjjs,  64'2,''vvith  which  he  compares 
Plautus,  Menmchmi,  279.  Other  references  exist  to  physiognomy  in 
Cassiodorus,  Isidorus,  Meletius.  and  Nemesius,  but  none  of  any  very 
great  importance. 

'  U  was  edited  by  Janus'  Comaro  at  Marburg,  1543,  by  Bonum  of 
Paris  ten  years  later,  by  Camillus  Peruscus,  by  Petrsius,  and  by  Sylburg 
in  the  sixth  volume  of  his  Aristotle. 

*  Uepl  TraXixUv.  See  Justin  MartjT'a  Qtiwst,  ad  orthodox.,  xix., 
Tol.  ii..  Paris,  1742,  p.  461, 


stantiniis,^  are  other  early  authors  frequently  quoted  by 
16th-century  writers,  while- Phemonoe,Antiphon,  Helenua 
of'  Syracuse,  and  Eumolpius  are  mentioned  as  'writers  by 
Porta,  Albertus  Magnus,  and  others,  but  their  works  are 
not  extant,  f 

The .  Latin  classics  occasionally^ref er  to  physiognomy  : 
Juvenal  (vi.  383)  speaks  of  the  examination  of  forehead 
and  face,  but  not  with  much  respect;  Suetonius  ( Vita  Titi, 
2)  tells  us,  "Quo  quidem  tempore,  aiunt,  metoposcopum  a 
Narcisso,  Claudio  liberto,  adhibitum,  ut  Britannicus  in- 
spiceret " ;  and  Pliny  also  refers  to  it  {H.  N.,  xxxv.  .10). 
References  also  exist  in  the  writings  of  Clement  of 
Alexandria ;  and  Origen,'  while  speaking  of  the  Je'wish 
fable  as  to  the  birth  of  Christ,  asks.  Is  it  possible,  if  there 
be  any  truth  in  the  science  taught  by  'Zopyrus,  Loxus,  find 
Polemon,  that  such  a  soul  as  Christ's  could  have  been 
provided  ■with  a  suitable  body  in  such  a  way  1  Sir  George 
\VTiarton  quotes  the  text  Job  xxxvii.  7,  "  He  impresseth 
(Dinn^)  the  hand  of  every  man,  that  aU  may  know  Hia 
work,"  as  an  authority  for  chiromancy, 'and  other  chiro. 
mantists  have  followed  him  in  so  doing.*^ 

Hitherto  the  physiognomy  of  the  schools  had  been 
chiefly  descriptive ;  in  the  succeeding  period  the  astro^ 
logical  side,  whose  gradual  development  may  be  noted, 
becomes  the  most  important  part.  Hence  in  the  sub- 
« sequent  or  second  stage  of  history  chiromancy  is  specially 
predictive  in  character,  and  attains  an  importance  it  had 
not  originally  possesseid.  ^  The  treatises  also  contain  occa- 
sional digressions  on  onychomancy,  alectoromancy,  clido- 
mancy,  coscinomancy,  podoscopy,  spasmatomancy,  &c. 

Along  ,  with  the  medical  science  of  the  period  the 
Arabians  took  up  the  study  of  physiognomy :  v  'All  b. 
Ragel  wrote  a  book  on  nasvi ;  Rhazes  (1040)  devoted 
several  chapters  of  hi^  medical  work  to  it ;  and  Averroea 
(1165)  made  many  references  to  it  in  his  De  Sanitate 
(p.  82,  Leyden,  1537);  Avicenna  also  mak^  some  acute 
physiognomical  remarks  in  his  De  Animalibus,  which  was 
translated  by  Michael  Scott  ^about^L2 70,  but  printed 
subsequently  (without  date  or  place).  Albertus  Magnus 
(born  1205)  devotes  much  of  the  second  tract  of  his  De 
Animalibus  to  the  consideration  of  physiognomy.'.  There 
is,  however,  nothing  original  in  the  treatise,-  which  largely 
consists  of  extracts  from  Aristotle,  Polemon,  and  Loxus.' 
He  does  not  enter  so  much  into  the  animal  comparisons  of 
his  predecessors,  but  occupies  himself  chiefly  'svith  simple 
descriptive  physiognomy  as  indicative  of  character ;  and 
the  same  is  true  of  the  many  scattered  notes  in  the  writ- 
ings of  Duns  Scotus  and  Thomas  Aquinas.  The  famous 
sage  of  Balvvearie,  Michael  Scott,  while  court  astrologer 
to  the  emperor  Frederick  II.,  wrote  his  treatise  Be  hominia 
phisionomia  (c.  1272),  much  of  which  is  physiological 
and  of  curious  interest.  It  was  not  printed  until "147 7, 
and  the  edition  was  not  illustrated.  The  physiognomical 
treatise  forms  the  third  jiart  of  his  work  De  secretii 
naturx.~  In  1335  Petrus  de  Abano  of  Padua  delivered 
in  Paris  a  course  of  lectures  on  this  subject  (afterwards^ 
edited  by  Blondus,  1544),  a  few  years  before  he  was  burned 
for  heresy.  Shortly  after  the  introduction  of  printing  in 
the  15th  century  a  large  number  of  works  on  physiognomy 
were  produced  ;  probably  the  oldest  is  the  block  book  by 
Hartlieb,  Die  K^mst  Ciromantia.  This  is  an  exceedingly 
rare  folio,  of  which  one  fine  copy  is  extant  in  Paris  ;  eacji 
page  bears  a  figure  of  a  giant  hand  from  7  to  lOi  inches 
long,  inscribed  with  characteristic  words,  and  with  a  small 
amount  of  description  below  ;^  there  are  twenty-seven  suclj 

'  Constantinus  Africanns,"  De- /ii'mHifi.BSiuia  et  ;i}'incipaUbiii 
niemhris  corporis  hnmani,  Basel.  1541,  folio.^ 

*  Contra.  Cetsum,  i.  33.^ 

'  For  other  references  to  Scriptural  allusions  to  'pbyaiojoowy,  sea 
Vacchius,  Observation's  in  div.  script.,  Naples,  164L- 


PHYSIOGNOMY 


■plates.  A  description  of  another  perfect  copy  belonging 
to  Earl  Spencer  occurs  in  Dibdin's  Bibliographical  De- 
cameron (1817),  vol.  i.  p.  143,  and  four  imperfect  copies 
are  knowTi  to  exist  elsewhere.  The  date  of  Hartlieb's 
work  is  probably  HTO.  This  and  Michael  Scott's  books 
were  the  first  printed  works  on  the  subject. 

The  IGth  century  was  particularly  rich  in  publications 
on  physiognomy.  Not  only  were  the  classical  works 
printed,  but  additions  were  made  to  the  literature  by 
Codes,  Corvus,  Johannes  de  Indagine,  Cornaro,  Blondus, 
Douxciel,  Pompeius  Ronnseus,  Gratarolus,  Niquetius,  Pom- 
ponius  Gauricus,  Tricassus,  Cardan,  Tiberius,  Thaddseus 
ab  Hayek,  Taisnierus,  Rizzacasa,  Campanella,  Hund,  Picci- 
olus,  Rothman,  Johannes  Padovanus,  and,  last  and  greatest 
of  all,  Giambattista  della  Porta.  Several  works  also  ap- 
peared in  England,  the  earliest  being  the  anonymous  On  tJie 
Art  0/ foretelling  Future  Events  by  Inspection  of  the  Hand 
(London,  1504).  A  second  anonymous  work,  A  pleasant 
Introduction  to  the  Art  of  Chiromancie  and  Physiognomic,  waa 
published  at  the  same  place  in  1558.  Neither  of  these  is  of 
any  merit.  The  first  English  work  with  the  author's  name 
is  that  of  Dr  Thomas  Hill  (1571),  The  Contemplalion  of 
Mankynde,  contayning  a  singular  Discourse  after  the  Art  of 
Phisiognomie.  This  is  rather  quaintly  written,  but  is  simply 
an  adaptation  from  the  Italian  writers  of  the  day.  Another 
anonymous  author  about  this  period,  but  whose  work  has  no 
date,  writes,  under  the  name  "  Merlin  Britannicus,"  upon 
moles  and  naevi  after  the  model  of  "All  b.  Ragel.  The 
word  "  physiognomy  "  had  been  introduced  into  England 
before  this  century,  and,  from  analogy  with  the  Greek, 
had  been  used  in  the  sense  of  the  outward  appearance,  or 
the  face  :  thus  in  Udall's  translation  of  the  paraphrase 
of  Erasmus  on  Mark  iv.  it  occurs  spelt  "phisnomi";  the 
pugnacious  bishop  of  Ossory,  Bale,  in  his  English  Votaries, 
spells  it  "physnomie"  (pt.  i.  ch.  ii.  p.  44). 

The  rise  of  the  study  of  anatomy  served  largely  to  bring 
physiognomy  into  discredit  by  substituting  real  facts  for 
fictions  ;  hence  in  the  1 7th  century  its  literature,  while  not 
smaller  in  quantity,  was  less  important  in  quality.  The 
principal  authors  are  Goclenius,  Fuchs,  Timpler,  Tischbein, 
Gallimard,  Moldenarius,  Septalius,  Hertod,  Scarlatini, 
Saunders,  Withers,  Helvetius,  Lebrun,  Elsholtius,  De  la 
Belliire,  Philipp  May,  Evelyn,  Freius,  Baldus,  Torreblanca, 
Otto,  Bulwer,  Rhyne,  Merbitziu.s,  Fludd,  Zanardus,  Fiuella, 
Tamburini,  Etzler,  Vecchius,  Praetorius,  De  la  Chambre, 
and  Giraldus. 

The  18th  century  shows  a  still  greater  decline  of  interest 
in  physiognomy.  Historians  of  philosophy,  like  Meursius 
and  Franz,  re-edited  some  of  the  classical  works," and 
Fiilleborn  reviewed  the  relation  of  physiognomy  to  philo- 
sophy. Indeed  the  only  name  worthy  of  note  is  that 
of  Lavater  (?.!'.).  The  other  authors  of  this  century 
are  Peuschel,  Spon,  Lichtenberg,  Schutz,  Wegelin,  Pornetty, 
Girtanner,  Grohmann,  and  several  anonymous  writers,  and 
from  the  anatomical  side  Lancisi,  Parsons,  and  Peter  Cam- 
per. The  popular  style,  good  illustrations,  and  pious  spirit 
pervading  the  writings  of  Lavater  have  given  to  tliem  a 
popularity  they  little  deserved,  as  there  is  really  no  .system 
in  his  work,  which  largely  consists  of  rhapsodical  comments 
upon  the  several  portraits.-  Having  a  liappy  knack  of 
estimating  character,  especially  when  acquainted  with  the 
histories  of  the  persons  in  tpicstion,  the  good  pastor  con- 
|trlved  to  write  a  graphic  and  readable  book,»but  one  much 
inferior  to  Porta's  or  Aristotle's  as  a  systematic  treatise. 
(With  him  the  descriptive  school  of  physiognomists  may  be 
said  to  have  ended,  as  the  astrological  ])hysiognoray  expired 
with  De  la  RcUiere.  The  few  straggling  works  which 
have  since  a[)peared  are  scarcely  deserving  of  notice,  the 
rising  attraction  of  phrenology  having  given  to  pure  phy- 
siognomy the  couj>  de  ijrdcc  bjr  taking  into  itself  whatever 


was  likely  to  live  of  the  older  science.  The  writers  of  this 
century  are  Hcirstig,  Maas,  Rainer,  Cross,  Stohr,  Sehler, 
Diez,  Cams,  Piderit,  Biu-gess,  and  Gratiolet. 

The  physiological  school  of  physiognomy  (vas  fore- 
shadowed by  Parsons  and  founded  by  Sir  Charles  Bell, 
as  his  Essay  on  the  Anatomy  of  Expression,  published  in 
1806,  was  the  first  really  scientific  study  of  expression. 
He  was  one  of  the  first  who  accurately  correlated  the 
motions  expressive  of  the  passions  with  the  muscles  which 
produce  them,  and  in  the  later  editions  of  hia  work  these 
descriptions  are  much  enlarged  and  improved.  Shortly 
after  the  appearance  of  the  first  edition  of  Bell's  Essay 
Moreau  published  his  first  edition  of  Lavater  along  some- 
what the  same  lines  (1807).  The  experiments  of  Ducheune 
(Mecanisme  de  la  Physionomie  Eumaine,  Paris,  1862)  showed 
that  by  the  use  of  electricity  the  action  of  the  separate 
muscles  could  be  studied  and  by  the  aid  of  photography 
accurately  represented.  These  tested  and  confirmed  by 
experimental  demonstration  the  hypothetic  conclusions 
of  Bell.  The  machinery  of  expression  having  thus  been 
clearly  followed  out,  the  correlation  of  the  physical  actions 
and  the  psychical  states  was  made  the  subject  of  specula- 
tion by  Spencer  {Psychology,  1855),  and  such  speculations 
were  first  reduced  to  a  system  by  Darwin  (Expression  of 
Emotions,  1872),  who  formulated  and  illustrated  the  fol- 
lowing as  fundamental  principles. 

.1)  Certain  complex  acts  are  of  direct  or  indirect  service  under 
certain  conditions  of  the  mind  in  order  to  relieve  or  gratify  certain 
sensations  or  desires  ;  and  whenever  the  same  state  of  mind  is 
induced  the  same  set  of  actions  tend  to  be  performed,  even  when 
they  have  ceased  to  be  of  use.  (2)  When  a  directly  opposite  state 
of  mind  is  induced  to  one  with  which  a  definite  action  is  correlated, 
there  is  a  strong  and  involuntary  tendency  to  perform  a  reverse 
action.  (3)  When  the  sensorium  is  strongly  excited  nerve -force 
is  generated  in  excess,  and  is  transmitted  in  definite  directions, 
depending  on  the  connexions  of  nerve-cells  and  on  habit. 

It  follows  from  these  propositions  that  the  expression  of 
emotion  is  for  the  most  part  not  under  the  control  of  the 
will,  and  that  those  striped  muscles  are  the  most  expressive 
which  are  the  least  voluntary.  The  philosophy  of  phy- 
siognomy may  be  formulated  upon  this  definite  theoretic 
basis.  (1)  The  actions  we  look  upon  as  expressive  of 
emotions  are  such  as  at  some  time  w-^ere  serviceable  in 
relieving  or  gratifying  the  desires  or  sensations  accom- 
panying the  emotion.  (2)  Such  actions  become  habitually 
associated  with  the  mental  condition  and  continue  even 
where  their  utility  is  lost.  (3)  Certain  muscles  which  pro- 
duce these  actions  become  from  habitual  action  strength- 
ened, and,  when  the  skin  diminishes  in  fulness  and 
elasticity  with  advancing  age,  the  action  of  the  muscle 
produces  furrows  or  wrinkles  in  the  skin  at  fight  angles 
to  the  course  of  the  fibres  of  the  "muscle.  (4)  As  the 
mental  disposition  and  proneness  to  action  are  inherited 
by  children  from  parents,  so  the  facility  and  proneness  to 
expression  are  similarly  developed  under  the  law  of  heredity. 
(5)  To  some  extent  habitual  muscular  action  and  the 
habitual  flow  of  nerve-force  in  certain  directions  may  alter 
the  contour  of  such  bones  and  cartilages  as  are  thereby 
acted  ujwn  by  the  muscles  of  expression.  Illustrations  of 
these  theoretic  propositions  are  to  be  found  in  the  works 
of  Bell,  Duchenne,  and  Darwin,  to  which  the  student  may 
be  referred  for  further  information. 

For  information  on  artistic  anatomy  as  applied  to  physiognomy  see 
the  catalogue  of  sixty-two  authors  by  Ludwig  Cboulant,  Gcschichic 
unci  Bibliographic  dtr  avatomischcn  Ahbildung,  kc,  Lcipsic,  1852. 
and  tbo  w-orks  of  the  authors  enumerated  above,  especially  those  of 
Aristotle,  I-'ranz,  Porta,  Cardan,  Corvus,  and  Unhvcr.  An  attempt 
has  been  made  recently  to  rehabilitate  palmistry  by  D'Arpentignv 
and  Desbarrollcs,  for  summaries  of  which  see  the  wolks  of  Bcaniisii 
and  Craig.  For  physiognomy  of  disease,  besides  the  usual  medical 
liandbooks,  see  Cabuchct,  Essai  sur  r  Expression  de  la  Face  dnns  let 
Maladies,  Taris,  1801.  For  ethnological  physiognomy,  see  amongst 
older  authors  Gratarolus,  and  amongst  moderns  the  writers  cited  ia 
the  various  textbooks  on  anthronology.  (.V.  MA.) 


6 


PHYSIOLOGUS 


PHYSIOLOGUS,  the  most  common  title  of  a  collection 
of  some  fifty  Christian  allegories  much  read  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  still  existing  in  several  forms  and  in  about-  a 
dozen  Eastern  and  Western  languages.  As  nearly  all  its 
imagery  is  taken  from  the  anunal  world,  it  is  also  known 
as  the  Bestiary.  There  can  be  hardly  a  doubt  about  the 
time  and  general  circumstances  of  its  origin.  Christian 
teachers,  especially  those  who  had  a  leaning  towards  gnostic 
speculations,  took  an  interest  in  natural  history,  partly 
because  of  certain  passages  of  Scripture  that  they  wanted 
to  explain,  and  partly  on  account  of  the  divine  revelation 
in  the  book  of  nature,  of  which  also  it  was  man's  sacred 
duty  to  take  proper  advantage.  Both  lines  of  study  were 
readily  combined  by  applying  to  the  interpretation  of  de- 
scriptions of  natural  objects  the  allegorical  method  adopted 
for  the  interpretation  of  Biblical  texts.  Now  the  early 
Christian  centuries  were  anything  but  a  period  of  scientific 
research.  Rhetorical  accomplishments  were  considered  to 
be  the  chief  object  of  a  liberal  education,  and  to  this  end 
every  kind  of  learning  was  made  subservient.  Instead  of 
reading  Aristotle  and  other  naturalists,  people  went  for 
information  to  commonplace  books  like  those  of  jElian, 
in  which  scraps  of  folk-lore,  travellers'  tales,  and  fragments 
of  misapprehended  science  were  set  forth  in  an  elegant 
style  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  general  reader.  Theological 
writers  -with  a  merely  literary  training  were  not  in  the 
least  prepared  to  question  the  worth  of  the  marvellous 
descriptions  of  creatures  that  were  current  in  the  schools 
on  the  faith  of  authorities  vaguely  known  as  "  the  history 
of  animals,"  "  the  naturalists,"  and  "  the  naturalist "  in 
the  singular  number  (</)W7-io\d)'os).i  So  they  took  their 
notions  of  strange  beasts  and  other  marvels  of  the  visible 
world  on  trust  and  did  their  best  to  make  them  available 
for  religious  instruction.  In  some  measure  we  find  this 
practice  adopted  by  more  than  one  of  the  fathers,  but  it 
was  only  natural  that  the  Alexandrian  school,  with  its 
pronounced  taste  for  symbolism,  should  make  the  most  of 
it.  Clement  himself  had  declared  that  natural  lore,  as 
taught  in  the  course  of  higher  Christian  education  accord- 
ing to  the  canon  of  truth,  ought  to  proceed  from  "cosmo- 
gony" to  "the  theological  idea,"-  and  even  in  the  little 
that  is  left  of  the  works  of  Origen  we  have  two  instances 
of  the  proceeding  in  question,'  And  yet  the  fact  that 
these  reappear  in  the  Phydolog-us  would  not  suffice  to 
stamp  the  work  as  a  series  of  extracts  from  Alexandrian 
writings,  as  parallels  of  the  same  kind  can  be  adduced 
from  Epiphanius  (loc.  cit.)  and  Ephraem  Syrus  {0pp.  Syr., 
\L  pp.  17,  130).  Father  Cahier  would  even  trace  the  book 
to  Tatian,  and  it  is  true  that  that  heresiarch  mentions  a 
writing  of  his  own  upon  animals.  Still  the  context  in 
which  the  quotation  occurs  makes  it  evident,  that  the 
subject-matter  was  not  the  nature  of  particular  species 
nor  the  spiritual  lessons  to  be  drawn  therefrom,  but  rather 
the  place  occupied  by  animal  beings  in  the  system  of 
creation.  On  the  other  hand,  the  opinion  of  Cardinal  Pitra, 
who  referred  the  Phydologus  to  the  more  orthodox  though 
somewhat  peculiar  teaching  of  the  Alexandrians,  is  fuUy 
borne  out  by  a  close  examination  of  the  irregularities  of 
doctrine  pointed  out  in  the  Physiologus  by  Cahier,  all  of 
which  are  to  be  met  with  in  Origen.  The  technical  words 
by  which  the  process  of  allegorizing  is  designated  in  the 
Physiologus,  like  Ipixr/vda, .  dewpta,  afaycoy^,  dWijyopia, 
are  familiar  to  the  students  of  Alexandrian  exegesis.     It 

^  Origen,  Sel.  in  Jerevi.,  xvii.  1],  "  iv  t^  vepl  ^i^uif  IffTopiif"  \ 
Epl^iliaii.,  .idv.  Hxr.,  i.  8,  p.  274  (ed.  D.  Petav.),  "us  (fiaaiv  o! 
<t>mioK6yoi"  ;  Origen,  Horn,  xvii,  in  Gen.  xliv.  9,  "nam  chysiologus 
de  catulo  leonis  scribit." 

'  Strom.,  iv.  p  5^4  (ed.  Potter),  7  ^oCf  Ktiri  rht  rfis  dXijStfas 
Ktivliva  Yvua-Ti/c^s  7rapa56(T€tJS  (^vaioKoyia,  /laXXof  5^  iiroTTTda.,  €k 
Tou  Trepi  KO(Tfioyoiias  ^pTTjrai  \6yov^  ind^vSf  dva^aivovaa  iirl  t6 
OioXoyiKdv  dSos. 


has,  moreover,  been  remarked  that  almost  all  the  animals 
mentioned  were  at  home  in  the  Egypt  of  those  days,  or 
at  least,  like  the  elephant,  were  to  be  seen  there  occasion- 
ally, whereas  the  structure  of  the  hedgehog,  for  instance, 
is  explained  by  a  reference  to  the  sea-porcupine,  better 
known  to  fish -buyers  on  the  Mediterranean.  The  fables 
of  the  phoenix  and  of  the  conduct  of  the  wild  ass  and  the 
ape  at  the  time  of  the  equinox  owe  their  origin  to  astro- 
nomical symbols  belonging  to  the  Nile  country.^  In  both 
chapters  an  Egyptian  month  is  named,  and  elsewhere  the 
antelope  bears  its  Coptic  name  of  "antholops." 

That  the  substance  of  the  Physiologus  was  borrowed 
from  commentaries  on  Scripture  ■*  is  confirmed  by  many  of 
the  sections  opening  with  a  text,  followed  up  by  some  such 
formula  as  "  but  the  Physiologus  says."  ^Vhen  zoological 
records  failed,  Egypto-Hellenic  ingenuity  was  never  at  a 
loss  for  a  fanciful  invention  distilled  from  the  text  itself, 
but  which,  to  succeeding  copyists,  appeared  as  part  of  the 
teaching  of  the  original  Physiologus.  As  a  typical  instance 
we  may  take  the  chapter  on  the  ant-lion, —  not  the  insect, 
but  an  imaginary  creature  suggested  by  Job  iv.  11.  The 
exceptional  Hebrew  for  a  lion  (layish)  appeared  to  the 
Septuagint  translators  to  call  for  a  special  rendering,  and 
as  there  was  said  to  exist  on  the  Arabian  coast  a  lion-like 
anunal  called  "myrmex"  (see  Strabo,  xvi.  p.  774  ;  /Elian, 
N.  A.,  vii.  47)  they  ventured  to  give  the  compound  noun 
"  myrmekoleon."  After  so  many  years  the  commentators 
had  lost  the  key  to  this  unusual  term,  and  only  knew  that  in 
common  Greek  "myrmex"  meant  an  ant.  So  the  text  "  the 
myrmekoleon  hath  perished  for  that  he  had  no  nourish- 
ment "  set  them  pondering,  and  others  reproduced  their 
meditations,  with  the  following  result :  "  The  Physiologus 
relates  about  the  ant-lion  :  his  father  hath  the  shape  of  a 
lion,  his  mother  that  of  an  ant ;  the  father  liveth  upon 
flesh,  and  the  mother  upon  herbs.  And  these  bring  forth 
the  ant-lion,  a  compound  of  both,  and  in  part  like  to  either, 
for  his  fore  part  is  that  of  a  lion,  and  his  hind  part  like 
that  of  an  ant.  Being  thus  composed,  he  is  neither  able 
to  eat  flesh  like  his  father,  nor  herbs  like  his  mother ; 
therefore  he  perisheth  from  inanition  " ;  the  moral  follows. 

At  a  later  period,  when  the  church  had  learnt  to  look 
with  suspicion  upon  devotional  books  likely  to  provoke  the 
scoffing  of  some  and  lead  others  into  heresy,  a  work  of  tfcis 
kind  could  hardly  meet  with  her  approval.  A  synod  of 
Pope  Gelasius,  held  in  496,  passed  censure,  among  others, 
on  the  "Liber  Physiologus,  qui  ab  hasreticis  conscriptus  est 
et  B.  Ambrosii  nomine  signatus,  apocryphus,"and  evidence 
has  even  been  offered  that  a  similar  sentence  was  pro- 
nounced a  century  before.  Still,  in  spite  x)f  such  measures, 
the  Physiologus,  like  the  Church  History  of  Eusebius  oT 
the  Pastor  of  Hernias,  continued  to  be  read  with  general 
interest,  and  even  Gregory  the  Great  did  not  disdain  to 
allude  to  it  on  occasion..  Yet  the  Oriental  versions,  which 
had  certainly  nothing  to  do  with  the  Church  of  Rome, 
show  that  there  was  no  systematic  revision  made  according 
to  the  catholic  standard  of  doctrine.  The  book  remained 
essentially  the  same,  albeit  great  liberties  were  taken  with 
its  details  and  outward  form.  There  must  have  been  many 
imperfect  copies  in  circulation,  from  which  people  tran- 
scribed such  sections  as  they  found  or  chose,  and  afterwards 
completed  their  MS.  as  occasion  served.  Some  even  re- 
arranged the  (jontents  according  to  the  alphabet  or  to 
zoological  affinity.  So  little  was  the  collection  considered 
as  a  literary  work  with  a  definite  text  that  every  one 
assumed  a  right  to  abridge  or  enlarge,  to  insert  ideas  of  his 

'  Cp   Leemaus  on  HorapoUo,  i.  16,  34. 

*  Including  the  Apocrypha.  See  the  Icelandic  account  of  the  ele- 
phant, also  a  decidedly  Alexandrian  fragment  upon  the  fidpyos,  founded 
upon  4  Macoab.  i.  3,  which  has  got  into  the  scholia  upon  the  Odi/ssey, 
xviii.  2  (ii.  p.  633.  ed.  Dindorf,  Oxford,  1855). 


PHYSIOLOGUS 


own,  or  fres'a  Scriptural  quotations  ;  nor  were  the  scribes 
and  translators  by  any  means  scrmmlous  about  the  names 
of  natural  objects,  and  even  the  passages  from  Holy  Writ. 
P/it/.siuloffus  had  been  abandoned  by  scholars,  and  left  to 
take  its  chance  among  the  tales  and  traditions  of  the  un- 
educated mass.  Nevertheless,  or  rather  for  this  very  reason, 
its  symboLs  found  their  way  into  the  rising  literature  of 
the  vulgar  tongues,  and  helped  to  quicken  the  fancy  of  the 
artists  employed  upon  church  buildings  and  furniture.' 

The  history  of  the  Pliyuologus  has  become  entwined 
from  the  beginning  with. that  of  the  commentaries  on  the 
account  of  creation  in  Genesi3j(]2.The  principal  production 
of  this  kind  in  our  possession  is  the  Hexaemeron  of  Basil, 
which  contains  several  passages  very  like  those  of  the 
Phi/siolojus.  For  instance,  in  the  seventh  homily  the  fable 
of  the  nuptials  of  the  viper  and  the  conger-eel,  known 
already  to  jElian  and  Oppian,  and  proceeding  from  a 
curious  misreading  of  Aiistotle  (Hist.  An.,  v.  4,  p.  540  b, 
Bekk.),  serves  to  point  more  than  one  moral.  Notwith- 
standing the  difference  in  theology,  passages  of  this  kind 
could  not  but  be  welcjme  to  the  admirers  of  the  Alexan- 
drian allegories.  In  fact  a  medley  from  both  Basil  and 
the  riii/nol'ir/ua  existf  under  the  title  of  the  Hexaemeron  of 
Eustathius  ;  some  copies  of  the  first  bear  as  a  title  TL(pl 
<^i'(rioAoyi'us,  and  i.i  a  Milan  MS.  the  "morals"  of  the 
PliyaiologiLS  are  ascribed  to  Basil.  The  Leyden  Syriac  is 
supplemented  with  literal  extracts  from  the  latter,  and 
the  whole  is  presented  as  his  work.  Other  copies  give  the 
names  of  Gregorj-  Theologus,  Epiphanius,  Chrysostom,  and 
Isidore. 

As  far  as  can  be  judged,  the  emblems  of  the  original 
Physiolor/us  were  the  following:  (I)  the  lion  (footprints 
rubbed  out  with  tail ;  sleeps  with  eyes  open  ;  cubs  receive 
life  only  three  days  after  birth  by  their  father's  breath) ; 
^2)  the  sun-lizard  (restores  its  sight  by  looking  at  the  sun) ; 
(3)  the  cliaradrius  (Deut.  xiv.  16;  presages  recovery  or 
death  of  patients) ;  (4)  the  pelican  (recalls  its  young  to 
Lfe  by  its  own  blood) ;  (5)  the  owl  (or  nyktikorax ;  loves 
darkness  and  solitude) ;  (6)  the  eagle  (renews  its  youth  by 
sunlight  and  bathing  in  a  fountain) ;  (7)  ihe  phoenix 
(revives  from  fire) ;  (8)  the  hoopoe  (redeems  its  parents 
from  the  ills  of  old  age) ;  (9)  the  mid  ass  (suffers  no  male 
besidef.  itself)  ;  (10)  the  viper  (born  at  the  cost  of  both  its 
parents'  death);  (11)  the  serpent  (sheds  its  skin;  puts 
aside  its  venom  before  drinking ;  is  afraid  of  man  in  a 
state  of  nudity  ;  hides  its  head  and  abandons  the  rest  of 
its  body);  (12)  the  ant  (orderly  and  laborious;  prevents 
stoied  grain  from  germinating ;  distinguishes  wheat  from 
barley  on  the  stalk) ;  (13)  the  sirens  and  onocentaurs  (Isa. 
xuJ.  21,  22;  compound  creatures);  (14)  the  hedgehog 
(pricks  grapes  upon  its  quills) ;  (15)  the  fox  (catches  birds 
by  simulating  death);  (16)  the  panther  (spotted  skin; 
enmity  to  the  dragon  ;  sleeps  for  throe  days  after  meals ; 
allures  its  prey  by  sweet  odour) ;  (17)  the  sea-tortoise  (or 
aspidochelone ;  mistaken  by  sailors  for  an  island);  (18) 
the  partridge  (hatches  eggs  of  other  birds) ;  (19)  the  vul- 
ture (assisted  in  birth  by  a  stone  with  loose  kernel) ;  (20) 
the  ant-lion  (able  neither  to  take  the  one  food  nor  to  digest 
the  other);  (21)  the  weasel  (conceives  by  the  mo\Uh  and 
brings  forth  by  the  ear) ;  (22)  the  unicorn  (caught  only  by 
a  virgin) ;  (23)  the  beaver  (gives  up  its  testes  when  pur- 
sued) ;  (24)  the  hyjena  (a  hermaphrodite) ;  (2.'i)  the  otter 
(enhydris;  enters  the  crocodile's  mouth  to  kill  it);  (26) 
the  ichneumon  (covers  itself  with  mud  to  kill  the  dragon  ; 
another  version  of  No.  25) ;  (27)  the  crow  (takes  but  one 
consort  in  its  life) ;  (28)  the  turtledove  (same  naturo  as 
Jfo.  27) ;  (29)  the  frog  (cither  living  on  land  and  killed 
by  rain,  or  in  the  water  without  over  seeing  the  sun) ; 
(30)  the  stag  (destroys  its  enemy  the  serpent);  (31)  the 
salamander  (quenches  fire) ;  (32)  the  diamond  (powerful 


against  all  danger);  (33)  the  swallow  (brings  forth" but 
once;  misreading  of  Aristotle,  Hist.  An.,  v.  13);  (34)  the 
tree  called  jjeridexion  (protects  pigeons  from  the  serpent 
by  its  shadow) j  (35)  the  pigeons  (of  several  colours;  led 
by  one  of  them,  which  is  of  a  purple  or  golden  colour) ; 
(36)  the  antelope  (or  hydrippus ;  caught  by  fts  horns  in 
the  thicket)  ;  (37)  the  fire-flints  (of  two  sexes ;  combine  to 
produce  fire) ;  (38)  the  magnet  (adheres,  to  iron) ;  (39)' 
the  saw-fish  (sails  in  company  with  ships) ;  (40)  the  ibis 
(fishes  only  along  the  shore);  (41)  the  ibex  (descries  a 
hunter  from  afar);  (42)  the  diamond  again  (read  "car« 
buncle";  found  only  by  night) ;  (43)  the  elephant  (con- 
ceives after  partaking  of  mandrake ;  brings  forth  in  the 
water;  the  young  jjrotected  from  the  serpent  by  the  father; 
when  fallen  is  lifted  up  only  by  a  certain  small  individual 
of  its  own  kind);  (44)  the  agate  (employed  in  pearl- 
fishing)  ;  (45)  the  wild  ass  and  ape  (mark  the  equinox) ; 

(46)  the  Indian  stone  (relieves  patients  of  the  dropsy) ; 

(47)  the  heron  (touches  no  dead  body,  and  keeps  to  one 
dwelling-place);  (48)  the  sycamore  (or  Avild  fig;  grubs 
living  inside  the  fruit  and  coming  out) ;  (49)  the  ostrich 
(devours  all  sorts  of  things ;  forgetful  of  its  own  eggs). 
Besides  these,  or  part  of  them,  certain  copies  contain 
sections  of  unknown  origin  about  the  bee,  the  stork,  the 
tiger,  the  woodpecker,  the  spider,  and  the  wild  boar. 

The  Greek  text  of  the  Physiologiis  exists  only  in  late  MSS.,  and 
has  to  be  corrected  from  the  translations.  In  Sjriac  we  have  a  full 
copy  in  a  12th-centiiry  Leyden  MS.,  published  in  J.  P.  N.  Land's 
Aiuicdota  Syriaca  ;  thirty-two  chapters  witli  the  "  morals  "  left  out 
in  a  very  late  Vatican  copy,  published  by  Tychsen  ;  and  about  the 
same  number  in  a  late  MS.  of  the  British  Museum  (Add;  25878). 
In  Armenian  Pitra  gave  some  thirty-tWD  chapters  from  a  Paris  JIS.' 
(13th  century).  The  .Sthiopic  exists  both  in  London  and  Paris,  and 
was  printed  at  Leipsic  by  Dr  Hommel  in  1877.  In  Arabic  we  have 
fragments  at  Paris,  of  which  Renan  translated  a  specimen  for  the 
S/iicilcgimn  Solesmcjise,  and  another  version  of  thirty-seven  chapters 
at  Leyden,  probably  the  work  of  a  monk  at  Jerusalem,  which  Land 
translated  and  printed  with  the  Syriac.  The  Latin  MSS.  of  Bern 
are,  after  the  Vatican  glossary  of  Ansileubus,  the  oldest  of  which 
we  know ;  there  are  others  in  several  libraries,  and  printed  editions 
by  Mai,  Hcider,  and  Caliier.  Besides  these  a  few  fragments  of  an 
old  abridgment  occur  in  Vallarsi"s  edition  of  Jerome's  works  (vol. 
xi.  col.  218).  A  metrical  Physiologiis  of  but  twelve  chapter?  is  the 
work  of  Theobaldus,  probably  abbot  of  Monte  Cassfno  (1022-1036 
A.D.).  .  From  this  was  imitated  the  Old-English  fragment  printed 
by  Th.  Wriglit,  and  afterwards  by  Maetzner;  also  the  Old-French 
Scnsuyl  le  bcstiaire  d'amours.  The  prose  Physiologus  was  done 
into  Old  Higli  German  before  1000,  and  afterwards  into  rhyme  in 
the  same  idiom  ;  since  Von  der  Hagen  (1824)  its  various  forms 
have  found  careful  editors  among  the  leading  Germanists.  The 
Icelandic,  in  a  Copenhagen  MS.  of  the  13th  century,  was  printed 
by  Prof.  Th.  Mobius  in  his  Analeda  norroena  (2d  ed.,  1877);  at 
the  same  time  he  gave  it  in  German  in  Dr  Hommel's  Aethiopic 
publication.  Some  Anglo-Saxon  metrical  fragments  are  to  be 
found  in  Grein's  Bibliolhck,  vol.  i.  Tho  Proven(;al  {t:  1250),  pub- 
lished in  Bartsch's  CAr6$(omo(Aie  »rov«j!fa?c,  omits  the  "morals," 
but  is  remarkable  for  its  peculiarities  of  form.  Before  this  there 
had  been  translations  into  French  dialects,  as  by  Philippe  do  Thaiin 
(1121),  by  Guillaume,  "clerc  de  Normandie,"  also,  about  the  same 


period,  by  Pierre,  a  clergyman  of  Picardy.  All  tho  Old -French 
materials  have  not  yet  Been  thoroughly  examined,  and  it  is  for 
from  improbablo  that  some  versions  of  the  book  either  remain  to 


bo  detected  or  are  now  lost  past  recovery.  A  full  account  of  tho 
history  of  the  Physiologus  should  also  embrace  tho  subjects  taken 
from  it  ill  tho  procluctions  of  Christian  art,  tlio  parodies  suggested 
by  the  original  work,  e.g.,  the  Pestiairc  d'Atiwur  by  Richnrd 
de  Fournival,  and  finally,  the  traces  loft  by  it  upon  th;  encyclo- 
pa?dical  and  literary  work  of  tho  later  Itliddio  Ages. 

fCfarly  aU  tlio  Information  now  obtalnnblo  Ih  to  bo  found  In  the  followlns 
works,  anil  hucli  as  am  tlipre  quotc'I :  .S.  K]>ip'.nnius  nd  rh^siol gum,  cil.  Ponco 
do  Lnoii,  Homo,  1687  (with  woodcutn>;  niiothor  edition,  Antwerp,  I.^Sfi  (with 
coppcr-pIat<^8) ;  .S.  Kv$t(ilhii  in  tfejaxtirmfron  Conmenlariua,  ed.  l-ro  Allatiua, 
LyonH,  l(i29  (cp.  II.  van  Horwortlon,  Fxcrfitl.  Crttl.,  llnguo,  ISCI.  pp.  I80-Ib-'): 
r\vsin1ot}us  Syrvs,  eil.  O.  0.  TycliBon,  Rostock,  17fl5  ;  Ctastiei  Aur.torti,  od. 
Mai,  vol.  vll.,  Homo,  183.'.,  pp.  1.86.190;  O.  Hoidor.  In  Aniiiv  fur  Kun(U 
osUrreicfi.  Ge.tchirhh'iuelUn,  Vlonna.  IVC.  vol.  II.  p.  6J5  stj.  ;  Cahii-r  anrt  Martin, 
HHangn  d' ArrUMogir,  4c. ,  vol.  II.,  rari»(I8.')l),  p.  8,'!  in.,  vol.  III.  (Ifr.S)  p.  SOS  *7, 
vol.  Iv.  (1850)  p.  65  mi.  ;  Cahlcr,  Hoiivmvx  Milanga  (IS74)  p.  100  .-7.  ;  J.  H.  I'itr*, 
.'ypicllfgixim  Sotrstnfnse,  vol.  Hi.,  Paria,  1855,  pp.  xlvii.  ji^.,  SrtS  it;,,  41ft.  555  ; 
Mnotznor,  Ailfiyrit.  .Sprachftrohen,  vol.  I.  pt.  1.,  Horlin,  1807.  p.  65  ai;.  ;  J.  Victor 
Cams,  Gesch.  drr  Zoolr^ie,  Munich,  1872,  p.  100  $q.  •  J.  P.  N.  Fjlnd,  Antuiota 
Syriaca.  vol.  Iv,,  l«yilon,  1874,  p.  31  tq.,  115  mj.,  and  In  rtr»lagrn  «n  Mididitt- 
ingrn  der  Kon.  Akad.  i-on  i\'(Un\chop}^en,  2d  aorlra,  vol.  iv.,  AniBti>rtlam,  1874; 
Mubius  and  liomniol  In  tholr  oubllcatlons  quotod  aboro.  (J.  P.  N.  U) 


PHYSIOLOGY 

>PART  I.— GENERAL  VIEW. ' 


THE  word  "  physiology  "  may  be  used  either  in  a  general 
or  in  a  more  restricted  sense.  In  its  more  general 
meaning  it  was  used  largely  of  old,  and  is  still  occasion- 
ally used  in  popular  writings,  to  denote  all  inquiry  into 
the  nature  of  living  beings.  A  very  slight  acquaintance, 
liowever,  with  the  phenomena  of  living  beings  shows  that 
these  can  be  studied  from  two.  apparently  very  dilTerent, 
points  of  view. 

The  most  obvious  and  striking  character  of  a  living 
being  is  that  it  appears  to  be  an  agent,  performing  ac- 
tions and  producing  effects  on  the  world  outside  itself. 
Accordingly,  the  first  efforts  of  inquirers  were  directed 
towards  explaining  how  these  actions  are  carried  on,  how 
the  effects  of  a  living  being  upon  its  surroundings  are 
brought  about.  And  the  dissection  or  pulling  to  pieces 
of  the  material  body  of  a  living  being  was,  under  the  name 
of  Anatomy  (q.v.),  regarded  as  simply  an  analysis  pre- 
paratory and  necessary  to  the  understanding  of  vital 
actions.  But  it  soon  became  obvious  that  this  anatomical 
analysis  gave  rise  of  itself  to  problems  independent  of, 
or  having  only  distant  relations  to,  the  problems  which 
had  to  do  with  the  actions  of  living  beings.  Hence  in 
course  of  time  a  distinct  science  has  grown  up  which 
deals  e.xclusively  with  the  laws  regulating  the  form,  ex- 
ternal and  internal,  of  living  beings,  a  science  which  does 
not  seek  to  explain  the  actions  of  living  beings,  and  takes 
note  of  these  actions  only  when  they  promise  to  throw 
Jight  on  the  occurrence  of  this  or  that  structural  feature. 
Such  a  science,  which  is  now  known  under  the  name  of 
Morphology  (q.v.),  might  be  carried  on  in  a  world  in 
which  all  living  things  had,  in  the  ordinary  meaning  of 
the  word,  become  dead.  Were  the  whole  world  suddenly 
petrified,  or  were  a  spell  to  come  over  it  like  that  imagined 
by  Tennyson  in  his  "  Day  Dream,"  but  more  intense,  so 
that  not  only  the  gross  visible  movements  but  the  inner 
invisible  movements  which  are  at  the  bottom  of  growth 
were  all  stayed,  the  morphologist  would  still  find  ample 
exercise  for  his  mind  in  investigating  the  form  and  struc- 
ture of  the  things  which  had  been  alive,  and  which  still 
differed  from  other  things  in  their  outward  lineaments  and 
internal  build. 

In  its  older  sense  physiology  embraced  these  morpho- 
logical problems,  and  so  corresponded  to  what  is  now  called 
Biology  (q.v.) ;  in  its  more  modern  sense  physiology  leaves 
these  matters  on  one  side  and  deals  only  with  the  actions 
of  living  beings  on  their  surroundings  (the  study  of  these 
necessarily  involving  the  correlative  study  of  the  effect  of 
the  surroundings  on  the  living  being),  and  appeals  to 
matters  of  form  and  structure  only  so  far  as  they  throw 
light  on  problems  of  action.  Looking  forward  into  the 
far  future,  we  may  perhaps  dimly  discern  the  day  when 
morphology  and  physiology  will  again  join  hands,  and  all 
the  phenomena  of  living  beings,  both  those  which  relate  to 
form  and  those  which  relate  to  action,  will  be  seen  to  be 
the  common  outcome  of  the  same  mclecuiar  processes. 
But  that  day  is  as  yet  most  distant;  and,  though  occasion- 
ally even  now  the  two  sciences  cross  each  other's  path, 
action  explaining  form  and  form  in  turn  explaining  action, 
the  dominant  ideas  of  the  two  are  so  distinct,  the  one 
from  the  other,  that  each  must  for  a  long  time  yet  be 
developed  along  its  own  line.  It  is  proposed  to  treat  in 
the  following  pages  of  physiology  in  this  narrower,  more 
restricted  sense. ' 

If  any  one  at  the  present  day,  making  use  of  the  know- 
ledtre  po  far  gathered  in,  M-ere  to  attempt  a  rough  prelimi- 


nary analysis  of  the  phenomena  of  action  of  a  living  being, 
—for  instance  of  one  of  the  more  complex,  so-called  higher 
animals,  such  as  man— he  might  proceed  in  some  such  way 
as  the  follo\ving. 

One  of  the  first,  perhaps  the  first  and  most  striking  fact 
about  man  is  that  he  moves  :  his  body  moves  of  itself  from ' 
place  to  place,  and  one  part  of  the  body  moves  on  another. 
If  we  examine  any  one  of  these  movements,  such  as  the 
bending  of  the  forearm  on  the  arm,  we  find  that  it  is 
brought  about  by  certain  masses  of  flesh,  called  muscles, 
which  from  time  to  time  contract,  that  is,  shorten  ;  and 
these  muscles  are  so  disposed  that,  when  they  shorten, 
and  so  bring  their  ends  nearer  together,  certain  bones  are 
pulled  ujjon  and  the  arm  is  bent.  Upon  further  examina- 
tion it  will  be  found  that  all  the  gross  movements  of  the 
body,  both  the  locomotion  of  the  whole  body  and  the 
movements  of  parts  upon  parts,  are  carried  out  by  the 
contraction  or  shortening  of  muscles  The  muscles,  together 
with  bones,  tendons,  and  other  structures,  are  arranged  in 
various  mechanical  contrivances,  many  of  them  singularly 
complex ;  hence  the  great  diversity  of  movement  of  which 
an  animal  or  man  is  capable ;  but  in  all  cases  the  central 
fact,  that  which  supplies  the  motive-power,  is  the  contrac- 
tion of  a  muscle,  a  shortening  of  its  constituent  fibres 
whereby  its  two  ends  are  brought  for  a  while  nearer 
together. 

When,  pushing  the  analysis  farther,  we  attempt  to  solve 
the  question.  Why  do  muscles  contract  1  we  find  that  the 
muscles  of  the  body  ^re  connected  with  what  is  called  the 
central  nervous  system  by  certain  strands  of  living  matter  Nervou 
called  nerves  ;  and  we  further  find  that,  with  some  few  ex-  systeoi 
ceptions,  which  need  not  concern  us  now,  the  contractions 
of  muscles  are  brought  about  by  certain  occult  invisible 
changes  called  nervous  impulses  which  travel  along  these 
nerves  from  the  central  nervous  system  to  the  muscles.' 
Hence,  when  a  nerve  is  severed,  the  muscle  to  which  the 
nerve  belonged,  thus  cut  adrift  from  the  central  nervous 
system,  no  longer  stirred  by  impulses  reaching  it  from 
thence,  ceases  to  contract,  and  remains  motionless  and  as  it 
were  helpless.  Pushing  the  problem  still  farther  home,  and 
asking  how  these  impulses  originate  in  the  central  nervous 
system,  we  find  that  this  central  nervous  mass  is  connected, 
not  only  with  the  musdas  by  means  of  nerves"  which,  carry- 
ing impulses  outward  from  itself  to  the  musefes  and  so 
serving  as  instruments  of  movement,  are  called  motor  or 
efferent  nerves,  but  also  with  various  surfaces  and  parts  of 
the  body  by  means  of  other  nerves,  along  which  changes 
or  impulses  travel  inwards  to  itself  in  a  centripetal  fashion. 
Moreover,  the  beginnings  or  peripheral  endings  of  these 
other  nerves  appear  to  be  so  constituted  that  various  changes 
in  the  surroundings  of  the  body,  or  internal  changes  in  the 
body  itself,  give  rise  to  impulses,  which,  thus  originated, 
travel  inwards  to  the  central  nervous  system  ;  hence  these 
nerves  are  spoken  of  as  sensory  or  afferent.  Such  sensory 
impulses  reaching  the  central  nervous  system  may  forth- 
,with  issue  as  motor  impulses  leading  to  movement ;  but 
on  many  occasions  they  tarry  within .  the  central  mass, 
sweeping  backwards  and  forwards  along  particular  areas 
of  its  substance,  thus  maintaining  for  a  while  a  state 
of  molecular  agitation  and  leading  to  movement  at  some 
subsequent  period  only.  Jforeover,  we  have  reason  to 
think  that  molecular  disturbances  may  arise  within  the 
central  nervous  system  apart  from  the  advent,  either  past 
or  present,  of  any  impfllses  along  sensory  nerves.  Lastljit 
the  presence  of  these  molecular  agitations  in  the  centras 


PHYSIOLOGY 


9 


nervous  system,  wbetlier  tlie  immediate  result  of  some  new 
afferent  impulse,  or  the  much  delayed  and  complicated 
outcome  of  some  impulse  ^vhich  arrived  long  ago,  or  the 
product  of  internal  changes  apparently  independent  of  all 
disturbance  from  without  and  so  far  spontaneous,  may  be 
indicated  by  corresponding  phases  of  what  we  speak  of  as 
consciousness.  We  are  thus  led  to  conceive  of  the  central 
nervous  system  as,  chiefly  at  least,  the  sea*'  of  a  mojecular 
turmoil  maintained  by  multitudinous  afferent  impulses 
streaming  in  along  the  various  afferent  nerves,  a  turmoil 
which  makes  itself  felt  within  as  changes  of  conscious- 
ness, and  produces  effects  without  by  movements  wrought 
through  motor  nerves  and  muscles.  And  one  large  part 
of  physiology  has  for  its  task  the  unravelling  of  the  laws 
which  govern  this  turmoil,  which  determine,  in  relation 
to  the  advent  of  afferent  impulses  and  the  occurrence  of 
intrinsic  changes,  the  issue  of  motor  impulses,  and  thus 
the  characters  of  the  resulting  movements, 
micai  The  movements  of  man  or  of  an  animal  are  not,  how- 
g€8.  ever,  the  only  salient  facts  of  his  existence.  Equally 
characteristic  of  him  are  the  facts,  (1)  that  he  from  time 
to  time  eats,  and  must  eat  in  order  to  live,  and  (2)  that  a 
supply  of  fresh  air  containing  a  certain  quantity  of  oxygen 
is  indispensable  to  his  remaining  alive.  Viewed  from  a 
chemical  point  of  view,  an  animal  body,  whether  dead  or 
alive,  is  a  mass  of  complex  unstable  chemical  substances, 
combustible  in  nature,  i.e.,  capable  of  being  oxidized,  and 
of  bfiing  reduced  by  oxidation  to  simpler,  more  stable  sub- 
stances, with  a  setting  free  of  energy.  Combustible  in 
the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word  an  animal  body  is  not,  by 
reason  of  the  large  excess  of  water  which  enters  into  its 
composition  ;  but  an  animal  body  thoroughly  dried  will  in 
the  presence  of  oxygen  bum  like  fuel,  and,  like  fuel,  give 
out  energy  as  heat  The  material  products  of  that  com- 
bustion are  fairly  simple,  consisting  of  water,  carbonic 
acid,  some  ammonia  or  nitrogen  compounds,  and  a  few 
salts.  And  these  same  substances  appear  also  as  the  pro- 
ducts of  that  slower  combustion  which  we  call  decay  ;  for, 
whether  the  body  be  burnt  swiftly  in  a  furnace  or  rot 
away  slowly  in  earth,  air,  or  water,  the  final  result  is  the 
same,  the  union  of  the  complex  constituent  substances 
with  the  oxygen  furnished  from  the  air,  and  their  reduc- 
tion thereby  to  the  above-named  products,  with  a  develop- 
ment of  heat,  which  either  as  in  the  first  case  is  rapid  and 
appreciable,  or  as  in  the  second  is  so  slow  and  gradual  as 
to  be  with  diflficulty  recognized.  Moreover,  during  life  also 
the  same  conversion,  the  same  oxidation,  the  same  reduc- 
tion of  complex  substances  to  simpler  matters,  the  same 
Betting  free  of  the  energy  present  in  the  former  but  absent 
in  the  latter,  may  be  noted.  The  animal  body  dies  daily, 
in  the  sense  that  at  every  moment  some  part  of  its  sub- 
stance is  suffering  decay,  is  undergoing  combustion  ;  at 
every  moment  complex  substances  full  of  latent  energy 
are  by  processes  of  oxidation  reduced  to  simpler  substances 
devoid  of  energy  or  containing  but  little. 

This  breaking  down  of  complex  substance.%  this  con- 
tirued  partial  decay,  is  indeed  the  source  of  the  body's 
energy  ;  each  act  of  life  is  the  offspring  of  an  act  of  death. 
Each  strain  of  a  muscle,  every  throb  of  the  heart,  all  the 
inner  work  of  that  molecular  turmoil  of  the  nervous  system 
of  which  we  spoke  above,  as  well  as  the  chemical  labour 
■wrought  in  the  many  cellular  laboratories  of  glands  and 
membranes,  every  throw  of  the  vital  shuttle,  means  an 
escape  of  energy  as  some  larger  compacted  molecule  splits 
into  smaller  simpler  pieces.  Within  the  body  the  energy 
thus  set  free  bears  many  shapes,  but  it  leaves  the  body  in 
two  forms  alone,  as  heat  and  as  the  work  done  by  the 
muscles  of  the  frame.  All  the  inner  labour  of  the  body, 
both  that  of  the  chemical  gland -cells,  of  the  vibrating 
nerve-substance  with  its  accompanying  changes  of  con- 


sciousness, and  of  the  beating  heart  and  writhing  visceral 
muscles,  is  sooner  or  later,  by  friction  or  otherwise,  con- 
verted into  heat ;  and  it  is  as  heat  that  the  energy  evolved 
in  this  labour  leaves  the  body.  Manifold  as  seems  the 
body's  energy,  it  has  but  one  source,  the  decay  of  living 
material,  i.e.,  the  oxidation  of  complex  substances  diversely 
built  up  into  various  living  matters,  and  but  two  ends,  heat 
and  muscular  work.  The  continued  setting  free  of  energy 
which  thus  marks  the  living  body,  entailing  as  it  does  the 
continued  breaking  up  and  decay  of  living  substance,  con- 
stitutes a  drain  upon  the  body  which  must  be  met  by  con- 
stantly-renewed supplies,  or  otherwise  the  body  would  waste 
away  and  its  energy  flicker  out.  Hence  the  necessity  on 
the  one  hand  for  that  which  we  call  food,  which,  however 
varied,  is  essentially  a  mixture  of  complex  combustible 
energy-holding  bodies,  and  on  the  other  hand  for  that  other 
kind  of  food  which  we  callbreath,  and  which  supplies  the 
oxygen  whereby  the  complex  oxidizable  substances  may  be 
oxidized  to  simpler  matters  and  their  potential  energy 
made  to  do  work.  Thus  food  supplies  the  energy  of  the 
body,  but  in.  quantity  only,  not  in  quality.  The  food  by 
itself,  the  dead  food,  can  exhibit  energy  as  heat  only,  with 
intervening  phases  of  chemical  action  ;  before  its  energy 
can  be  turned  into  the  peculiar  grooves  of  nervous  and 
muscular  action  it  needs  to  be  transmuted  into  living  sub- 
stance, and  in  that  transmutation  there  is  a  preliminary 
expenditure  of  part  of  the  food's  store  of  energy. 

Here,  then,  we  have  a  second  view  of  physiological  labour. 
To  the  conception  of  the  body  as  an  assemblage  of  mole- 
cular thrills^some  started  by  an  agent  outside  the  body,  by 
light,  heat,  sound,  touch,  or  the  like  ;  others  begun  within 
the  body,  spontaneously  as  it  were,  without  external  cause : 
thrills  which,  travelling  to  and  fro,  mingling  with  and 
commuting  each  other,  either  end  in  muscular  movements 
or  die  a'way  within  the  body — to  this  conception  we  must 
add  a  chemical  one,  that  of  the  dead  food  continually 
being  changed  and  raised  into  the  living  substance,  and  of 
the  living  substance  continually  breaking  dovni  into  the 
waste  matters  of  the  body  by  processes  of  oxidation,  and 
thus  supplying  the  energy  needed  both  for  the  unseen 
molecular  thrUls  and  the  visible  muscular  movements. 

Hence  the  problems  of  physiology  may  in  a  broad  sense  Prob- 
be  spoken  of  as  threefold.  (I)  On  the  one  hand,  we  have  •«"»  °f 
to  search  the  laws  according  to  which  the  complex  unstable  P^y^"' 
food  is  transmuted  into  the  still  more  complex  and.  still  °^' 
more  unstable  living  flesh,  and  the  laws  according  to  which 
this  living  substance  breaks  down  into  simple,  stable  waste 
products,  void  or  nearly  void  of  energy.  (2)  On  the  other 
hand,  we  ha^e  to  determine  the  laws  according  to  which 
the  vibrations  of  the  nervous  substance  originate  from 
extrinsic  and  intrinsic  causes,  the  laws  according  to  which 
these  vibrations  pass  to  and  fro  in  the  body  acting  and 
reacting  upon  each  other,  and  the  laws  according  to  which 
they  finally  break  up  and  are  lost,  either  in  those  larger 
swings  of  muscular  contraction  whereby  the  movements 
of  the  body  are  effected,  or  in  some  other  way.  (3)  And 
lastly,  wo  have  to  attack  the  abstruscr  problems  of  how 
these  neural  vibrations,  often  mysteriously  attended  with 
changes  of  consciousness,  as  well  as  the  less  subtle  vibrations 
of  the  contracting  muscles,  are  wrought  out  of  the  explosive 
chemical  decompositions  of  the  nervous  and  muscular  sub- 
stances, that  is,  of  how  the  energy  of  chemical  action  is 
transmuted  into  and  serves  as  the  supply  of  that  vital 
energy  which  appears  as  movement,  feeling,  and  thought. 

Even  a  rough  initial  analysis,  however,  such  as  we  have 
just  attempted  to  sketch,  simple  as  it  seems  with  our 
present  knowledge,  is  an  expression  of  the  accumulated 
and  corrected  inquiries  of  many  ages  ;  the  ideas  which  it 
embodies  are  the  results  of  long-continued  investigations, 
and  the  residue  of  many  successive  phases  of  opinion. 

XIX.  —  a 


10 


PHYSIOLOGY 


lu  the  natural  hierarchy  of  the  sciences,  physiology  fol- 
lows after  chemistry,  which  in  turn  follows  physics,  molar 
and  molecular  ;  and  in  a  natural  development,  as  indeed  is 
evident  from  what  we  have  just  seen,  the  study  of  the  two 
latter  should  precede  t^iftt  of  the  former.  At  a  very  early 
age,  however,  the  exigencies  of  life  brought  the  study  of 
man,  and  so  of  physiology,  to  the  front  before  its  time ; 
hence  the  history  of  physiology  consists  to  a  large  extent, 
especially  in  its  opening  chapters,  of  premature  vain 
attempts  to  solve  physical  and  chemical  problems  before 
the  advent  of  adequate  physical  or  chemical  knowledge. 
But  no  ignorance  of  these  matters  could  hide  from  the 
observant  mind,  even  in  quite  early  times,  two  salient 
points  which  appear  also  in  the  analysis  just  given,  namely, 
that,  while  some  of  the  phenomena  of  living  beings  seem 
due  to  powers  wholly  unknown  in  things  which  are  not 
living,  other  phenomena,  though  at  first  sight  special  to 
living  beings,  appear  to  be  in  reality  the  peculiar  outcome 
of  processes  taking  place  as  well  in  things  not  aHve.  It  was 
further  early  seen '  that,  while  the  former  are  much  more 
conspicuous,  and  make  up  a  greater  part  of  the  life  of  the 
individual  in  those  Living  beings  which  are  called  animals, 
especially  in  man,  and  in  animals  more  closely  resembling 
man,  than  in  those  which  are  called  plants,  the  latter  are 
common  to  both  divisions  of  living  things.  Both  sets  of 
phenomena,  however,  were  at  first  regarded  as  the  products 
of  certain  special  agencies  ;  both  were  spoken  of  as  the  work 
of  certain  spirits ;  and  the  distinction  between  the  two 
■was  formulated  by  speaking  of  the  spirits  as  being  in  the 
Iformer  case  animal  and  in  the  latter  vital. 

From  the  very  outset  even  the  casual  observer  could 
not  fail  to  be  struck  wdth  the  fact  that  many  of  the  pro- 
cesses of  living  beings  appear  to  be  the  results  of  the 
various  contrivances  or  machines  of  which  a  living  body 
is  largely  built  up.  This  indeed  was  evident  even  before 
the  distinction  between  animal  and  vital  spirits  was  recog- 
nized ;  and,  when  that  diflferentiation  was  accepted,  it  was 
seen  that  the  part  played  by  these  machines  and  contriv- 
ances in  determining  the  actions  of  living  beings  wasjnuch 
more  conspicuous  in  the  domain  of  vital  than  of  animal 
spirits.  As  inquiry  was  pushed  forward  the  prominence 
and  importance  of  this  machinery  became  greater  and 
greater,  more  especially  since  the  phenomena  supposed  to 
be  due  to  the  agency  of  vital  spirits  proved  more  open  to 
direct  observation  and  experiment  than  those  attributed  to 
the  animal  spirits.  It  was  found  that  the  most  fruitful 
path  of  investigation  lay  in  the  direction  of  studying  the 
structure  and  independent  action  of  the  several  constituent 
machines  of  the  bodv  and  of  unravelling  their  mutual 
relations. 
Organs  These  machines  received  the  names  of  organs,  the  wort 
andfuuc'  or  action  of  an  organ  being  at  a  later  period  spoken  of 
*'°°^  as  its  function.  And,  when  it  became  clear  that  many  of 
the  problems  concerned  with  what  was  supposed  to  be  the 
■work  of  the  vital  spirits  could  be  solved  by  the  proper 
appreciation  of  the  functions  of  certain  organs,  it  was  in 
ferred  that  the  more  diiBcult  problems  belonging  to  the 
animal  spirits  could  be  solved  in  the  same  ■n-ay.  Still  later 
on  it  was  found  that  the  conception  of  organs  and  functions 
■n-as  not  only  quite  separable  from,  but  indeed  antagonistic 
to,  the  hypothesis  of  the  entities  called  spirits. 

In  this  ■n'ay  the  first  great  phase,  as  it  may  be  called,  of 
the  science  of  physiology  was  evolved, — a  phase  which 
lasted  till  quite  recent  times.  Under  this  conception 
eveiy  living  being,  plant  or  animal,  was  regarded  as  a 
complex  of  organs,  each  ■with  its  respective  function,  as 
an  engine  built  up  of  a  number  of  intricately  contrived 
machines,  each  performing  its  specific  work  The  whole 
immal  body  was  parcelled  out  into  organs,  each  of  which 
Tfas  supposed  to  have  its  appropriate  function ;  and  the 


efforts  of  investigators  were  directed,  on  the  one  hand,  to 
a  careful  examination  of  the  structural  features  of  an 
organ  with  the  view  of  determining  by  deduction  what  its 
function  must  be,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  to  confirming  or 
correcting  by  observation  and  experiment  the  conclusions 
thus  reached  by  the  anatomical  method.  And  the  fruit- 
fuJness  of  this  Ene  of  inquiry  proved  so  great  that  the 
ideas  directing  it  became  absolutely  dominant.  In  many 
cases  the  problem  to  be  worked  out  was  in  reality  a  purely 
mechanical  one.  This  was  notably  so  in  the  great  ques- 
tion of  the  circulation  so  brilliantly  solved  by  Harvey. 
Putting  aside  for  a  while  the  inquiry  as  to  the  origin  of 
the  force  ■with  which  the  ■wulls  of  the  heart  press  on  the 
blood  contained  in  its  cavities,  accepting  the  fact  that  the 
blood  is  thus  pressed  at  each  beat  of  the  heart,  all  the 
other  truths  of  the  circulation  which  Haryey  demonstrated 
are  simply  the  outcome  of  certain  mechanical  conditions, 
such  as  the  position  and  arrangement  of  the  valves,  the 
connexion  of  various  patent  tubes,  and  the  like.  And 
many  other  problems — as,  for  instance,  those  connected 
■with  respiration — proved  to  be  similarly  capable  of  solution 
by  the  application  of  ordinary  mechanical  principles  to 
anatomical  facts. 

So  fruitful,  and  consequently  so  adequate,  seemed  this 
conception  of  living  beings  as  built  up  of  contrivances  or 
organs,  in  contrast  with  the  lifeless  world  in  whose  mono- 
tonous masses  no  such  structural  disposition  could  be 
recognized,  that  the  word  "organic"  came  into  use  as  a 
term  distinctive  of  living  things.  The  phrase  was  especi- 
ally adopted  by  the  chemists,  who  for  a  long  time  classified 
their  material  into  "organic"  substances,  i.e.,  substances 
found  only  in  living  beings,  and  into  inorganic  substances, 
that  is,  substances  occurring  in  lifeless  bodies  as  well. 
Indeed,  this  nomenclature  has  not  even  yet  been  wholly 
abandoned.  Triumphant,  however,  as  was  this  mode  of 
inquiry  in  these  and  similar  instances,  there  remained  in 
every  investigation  an  unsolvable  residue,  like  the  question 
of  the  origin  of  the  force  exerted  by  the  heart  referred  to 
above  in  speaking  of  Harvey's  work  ;  and  in  many  other 
instances  the  questions  which  could  not  be  solved  on 
mechanical  principles  formed  a  great  part  of  the  whole 
problem.  Thus  in  the  ca.se  of  the  liver  careful  dissection 
showed  that  minute  tubes  starting  from  all  parts  of  the 
liver  joined  into  one  large  canal,  which  opened  into  the 
small  intestine,  and  observation  and  experiment  taught 
that  these  tubes  during  life  conveyed  from  the  liver  to 
the  intestine  a  peculiar  fluid  called  bile,  which  appeared 
on  the  one  hand  to  originate  in  the  liver,  and  on  the  other 
to  be  used  up  for  some  purposes  in  the  intestine.  But 
here  the  mere  mechanical  flow  of  the  bile  along  the  gall- 
ducts,  instead  of  being  of  primary,  was  merely  of  second- 
ary importance,  and  the  problem  of  how  the  bile  was 
generated  and  made  its  way  into  the  small  beginnings  of 
the  ducts  was  the  greater  part  of  the  whole  matter.  This 
latter  problem  was  left  unsolved,  and  indeed  for  a  while 
unattempted.  Nevertheless  the  success  in  other  directions 
attending  the  conception  of  organs  and  functions  encour- 
aged physiologists  to  speak  of  the  liver  as  an  organ  whose 
function  was  to  secrete  bile,  and  further,  led  them  to 
ignore  to  a  large  extent  the  great  unsolved  portion  of  the 
problem,  and  to  regard  the  mere  enunciation  of  the  function 
as  the  chief  end  of  physiological  inquiry. 

Moreover,  whenever  attempts  were  made  to  unravel  these 
obscurer  problems,  the  efforts  of  investigators  were  mainly 
confined  to  a  fuller  and  more  complete  elucidation  of  the 
supposed  function  of  an  organ,  and  the  method  of  inquiry 
adopted  was  in  most  cases  one  which  regarded  the  finer 
elements  of  the  part  studied  as  minute  organs  making 
up  the  whole  gross  organ,  and  which  sought  to  explain  the 
I  functions  of  these  smaller  organs  on  the  same  mechanical 


PHYSIOLOGY 


11 


principles  which  had  proved  so  successful  in  the  case  of 
the  whole  organ.  When  the  improvements  in  the  micro- 
scope opened  up  a  new  world  to  the  anatomist,  and  a 
wholly  fresh  mechanical  analysis  of  the  structure  of  living 
bodies  became  possible,  great  hopes  were  entertained  that 
the  old  method  applied  to  the  new  facts  would  soon  solve 
the  riddles  of  life  by  showing  how  the  mysterious  opera- 
tions of  the  living  substances  out  of  which  the  grosser 
organs  were  built  were  the  outcome  of  structural  arrange- 
ments which  had  hitherto  remained  invisible,  were  in  fact 
the  functions  of  minute  component  organs.  A  vision  of 
a  grand  simplicity  of  organic  nature  dawned  upon  the 
minds  of  physiologists.  It  seemed  possible  to  conceive  of 
all  living  beings  as  composed  of  minute  organic  ijnits,  of 
units  whose  different  actions  resulted  from  their  different 
structural  characters,  whose  functions  were  explicable  by, 
and  could  be  deduced  from,  their  anatomical  features, 
such  units  being  built  up  into  a  number  of  gross  organs, 
the  functions  of  each  of  which  could  in  turn  be  explained  by 
the  direction  which  its  mechanical  build  gave  to  the  efforts 
of  its  constituent  units.  Such  a  view  seemed  to  have 
touched  the  goal,  when,  in  the  first  half  of  this  century, 
the  so-called  "cell-theory"  was  enunciated  as  a  physio- 
logical generalization. 

Long  before,  in  the  previous  century,  the  genius  of 
Caspar  Wolff  had  led  him  to  maintain  that  the  bodies  of 
living  beings  may  be  regarded  as  composed  of  minute 
constituent  units,  which,  being  in  early  life  all  alike  and 
put  together  as  an  unformed  mass,  gradually  differentiate 
and  are  ultimately  arranged  into  the  tissues  and  organs  of 
the  adult  being.  But,  though  Wolff  was  not  unaware  of 
the  physiological  bearing  of  his  conception,  his  mind  was 
chiefly  bent  towards  morphological  views,  and  his  cell- 
theory  is  essentially  a  morphological  one.  The  cell-theory, 
however,  which  became  famous  in  the  third  decade  of  the 
present  century,  and  to  which  the  twin  names  of  Schwann 
and  Schleiden  will  always  be  attached,  was  essentially  a 
physiological  one.  The  chief  interest  which  these  authors 
felt  in  the  ideas  that  they  put  forth  centred  in  the  convic- 
tion that  the  properties  of  the  cell  as  they  described  it 
were  the  mechanical  outcome  of  its  build ;  and  for  a  time 
it  seemed  possible  that  all  physiological  phenomena  could 
be  deduced  from  the  functions  of  cells,  the  anatomical 
characters  of  the  various  kinds  of  cells  determining  in 
turn  their  special  functions.  In  the  cell-theory  the  con- 
ception of  organs  and  functions  reached  its  zenith  ;  but 
thenceforward  its  fall,  which  had  been  long  prepared,  was 
swift  and  great.  Two  movements  especially  hurried  on 
its  decline. 

It  had  long  been  a  reproacn  to  physiologists  that,  while 
to  most  organs  of  the  body  an  appropriate  function  had 
been  assigned,  in  respect  to  certain  even  conspicuous 
organs  no  special  use  or  definite  work  could  be  proved  to 
exist.  Of  these  apparently  functionless  organs  the  most 
notorious  instance  was  that  of  the  spleen,  a  large  and 
important  body,  whose  structure,  though  intricate,  gave 
no  sign  of  what  its  labours  were,  and  whose  apparent  use- 
lessness  was  a  stumbling-block  to  the  theological  specula- 
tions of  Paley.  While  in  the  case  of  other  organs  a 
definite  function  could  be  readily  enunciated  in  a  few 
words,  and  their  existence  therefore  easily  accounted  for, 
the  spleen  remained  an  opprobrium,  existing,  as  it  appeared 
to  do,  without  purpose,  and  therefore  without  cause. 

The  progress  of  discovery  during  the  present  century, 
oy  a  cruel  blow,  instead  of  pointing  out  the  mi-ssing  use 
of  the  spleen,  rudely  shook  the  confidence  with  which  the 
physiologists  concluded  that  they  had  solved  the  riddle  of 
an  organ  when  they  had  allotted  to  it  a  special  function. 
From  very  old  times  it  had  been  settled  that  the  function 
of  the  liver  was  to  secrete  bile ;  and  the  only  problems 


left  for  inquiry  as  touching  the  liver  seemed  to  be  tho>e 
which  should  show  how  the  minute  structure  of  the  organ 
was  adajJted  for  carrying  on  this  work.  About  the  middle 
of  this  century,  however,  the  genius  of  Claude  Bernard  led 
him  to  the  discovery  that  the  secretion  of  bile  was  by  no 
means  the  chief  labour  of  the  liver.  He  showed  that  this 
great  viscus  had  other  work  to  do  than  that  of  secreting 
bile,  had  another  "  function  "  to  perform,  but  a  function 
which  seemed  to  have  no  reference  whatever  to  the 
mechanical  arrangements  of  the  organ,  which  could  never 
have  been  deduced  from  any  inspection  however  complete 
of  its  structure,  even  of  its  most  hidden  and  minute 
features,  and  which  therefore  could  not  be  called  a  function 
in  the  old  and  proper  sense  of  that  word.  By  a  remark- 
able series  of  experiments,  which  might  have  been  carried 
ouc  by  one  knowing  absolutely  nothing  of  the  structural 
arrangements  of  the  liver  beyond  the  fact  that  blood 
flowed  to  it  along  the  portal  vein,  and  from  it  along  the 
hepatic  vein,  he  proved  that  the  liver,  in  addition  to  the 
task  of  secreting  bile,  was  during  life  engaged  in  carrying 
on  a  chemical  transformation  by  means  of  which  it  was 
able  to  manufacture  and  store  up  in  its  substance  a 
peculiar  kind  of  starch,  to  which  the  name  of  glycogen  was 
given.  Bernard  himself  spoke  of  this  as  the  glycogenic 
function  of  the  liver,  but  he  used  the  word  "  function  "  in 
a  broad  indefinite  sense,  simply  as  work  done,  and  not  in 
the  older  narrower  meaning  as  work  done  by  an  organ 
structurally  adapted  to  carry  on  a  work  which  was  the 
inevitable  outcome  of  the  form  and  internal  build  of  the 
organ.  In  this  glycogenic  function  organization,  save 
only  the  arrangements  by  means  of  which  the  blood  flows 
on  from  the  portal  to  the  hepatic  channels  in  close  proxi- 
mity to  the  minute  units  of  the  liver-substance,  the  so-called 
hepatic  cells,  appeared  to  play  no  part  whatever  ;  it  was 
not  a  function,  and  in  reference  to  it  the  liver  was  not  an 
organ,  in  the  old  senses  of  the  words.  This  discovery  of 
Bernard's  threw  a  great  flash  of  light  into  the  darkness 
hitherto  hiding  the  many  ties  which  bound  together  dis- 
tant and  mechanically  isolated  parts  of  the  animal  body. 
Obviously  the  liver  made  this  glycogen,  not  for  itself,  but 
for  other  parts  of  the  body  ;  it  laboured  to  produce,  but 
they  made  use  of,  the  precious  material,  which  thus  became 
a  bond  of  union  between  the  two. 

The  glycogenic  labours  of  the  simple  hepatic  substance 
carried  out  independently  of  all  intricate  structural  arrange- 
ments, and  existing  in  addition  to  the  hepatic  function  of 
secreting  bile,  being  thus  revealed,  men  began  to  ask 
themselves  the  question.  May  not  something  like  this  bo 
true  of  other  organs  to  which  we  have  allotted  a  function 
and  thereupon  rested  content?  And  further,  in  the  cases 
where  we  have  striven  in  hope,  and  yet  in  vain,  to  com- 
plete the  interjjretation  of  the  function  of  an  organ,  by 
finding  in  the  minute  microscopic  details  of  its  structure 
the  mechanical  arrangements  which  determine  its  work, 
may  we  not  have  followed  throughout  a  false  lead,  ami 
sought  for  organization  where  organization  in  our  sense  of 
the  word  does  not  exist?  The  answer  to  thi.s  question, 
and  that  an  affirmative  one,  was  hastened  by  the  collapse 
of  the  cell-theory  on  its  physiological  side,  very  soon  after 
it  had  been  distinctly  formulated. 

The  "coll,"  according  to  the  views  of  thoso  who  first 
propounded  the  cell -theory,  consisted  essentially  of  arj 
envelope  or  "cell-membrane,"  of  a  substance  or  substance^ 
contained  within  the  cell -membrane,  hence  called  cell 
contents,  and  of  a  central  body  or  kernel  called  thd 
"  nucleus,"  differing  in  nature  from  the  rest  of  the  cell- 
contents.  And,  when  facts  were  rapidly  accumulated,  ali 
tending  to  prove  that  the  several  parts  of  the  animal  or 
vegetable  body,  diverse  as  they  were  in  appearance  and 
structure,  were  all  built  up  of  cells  more  or  less  modified. 


l'^ 


PHYSIOLOGY 


;he  hope  arose  that  the  functions  of  the  cell  might  be 
deduced  from  the  mutual  relations  of  cell-membrane,  cell- 
contents,  and  nucleus,  and  that  the  functions  of  an  organ 
might  be  deduced  from  the  modified  functions  of  the  con- 
stituent modified  cells.  Continued  investigation,  however, 
proved  destructive  of  this  physiological  cell-theory.  It 
soon  became  evident  that  the  possession  of  an  investing 
envelope  or  cell-membrane  was  no  essential  feature  of  a 
pell,  and  that  even  the  central  kernel  or  nucleus  might  at 
times  be  absent.  It  v?as  seen  in  fact  that  the  anatomical 
unit  need  have  no  visible  parts  at  all,  but  might  be  simply' 
a  minute  mass,  limited  in  various  ways,  of  the  material 
spoken  of  as  cell -contents.'  Under, the  cell-theory,  the 
cell  was  supposed  to  be  the  first  step  in  organization,  the 
step  by  which  a  quantity  of  formless  unorganized  plasm 
became  an  organized  unit ;  this  plasm  was  further  supposed 
still  to  form  the  chief  part  of  the  cell-contents,  and  soon 
became  recognized  under  the  name  of  protoplasm.  Hence 
the  destructive  anatomical  researches  which  deprived  the 
cell  of  its  cell -membrane,  and  even  of  its  nucleus,  left 
nothing  except  a  mass  of  protoplasm  to  constitute  an 
anatomical  tinit.  For  such  a  unit  the  word  "cell"  was  a 
misnomer,  since  all  the  ideas  of  organization  denoted  by 
the  word  had  thus  vanished ;  nevertheless  it  was  retained 
with  the  new  meaning,  and  up  to  the  present  time  the 
definition  of  a  cell  is  that  of  a  limited  mass  of  proto- 
plasm, generally  but  not  always  containing  a  modified 
kernel  or  nucleus. 
Proto-  With  this  anatomical  change  of  front  the  physiological 

theo'ry"^  cell-theory  was  utterly  destroyed.  The  cell  was  no  longer 
a  unit  of  organization ;  it  was  merely  a  limited  mass  of 
protoplasm,  in  which,  beyond  the  presence  of  a  nucleus, 
there  was  no  visible  distinction  of  parts.  It  was  no  longer 
possible  to  refer  the  physiological  phenomena  of  the  cell 
to  its  organization ;  it  became  evident  that  the  work  done 
by  a  "  cell "  was  the  result  not  of  its  form  and  cellular 
structure  but  simply  of  the  nature  and  properties  of  the 
apparently  structureless  protoplasm  which  formed  its 
body.  A  new  idea  pressed  itself  on  men's  minds,  that 
organization  was  a  concomitant  and  result  of  vital  action, 
not  its  condition  and  cause ;  as  Huxley  in  on^  of  his 
earliest  writings  put  it,  "They  [cells]  are  no  more  the 
producers  of  the  vital  phenomena  than  the  shells  scattered 
in  orderly  lines  along  the  sea-beach  are  the  instruments  by 
which  the  gravitative  force  of  the  moon  acts  upon  the 
ocean.  Like  these,  the  cells  mark  only  where  the  vital 
tides  have  been,  and  how  they  have  acted."  ^  Hence 
arose  the  second  of  the  two  movements  mentioned  above, 
that  which  may  be  called  the  "protoplasmic"  movement, 
a  movement  which,  throwing  overboard  altogether  all 
conceptions  of  life  as  the  outcome  of  organization,  as 
the  mechanical  result  of  structural  conditions,  attempts 
to  put  physiology  on  the  same  footing  as  physics  and 
chemistry,  and  regards  all  vital  phenomena  as  the  com- 
plex products  of  certain  fundamental  ptoperties  exhibited 
by  matter,  which,  either  from  its  intrinsic  nature  or  from 
jts  existing  in  peculiar  conditions,  is  known  as  living  matter, 
r — mechanical  contrivances  in  tlie  form  of  organs  serving 
only  to  modify  in  special  ways  the  results  of  the  exercise  of 
these  fundamental  activities  and  in  no  sense  determining 
their  initial  development. 

Long  before  the  cell-theory  had  reduced  to  an  absurdity 
the  "  organic  "  conception  of  physiology,  the  insight  of  the 
brilliant  Bichat,  so  early  lost  to  science,  had  led  him  to 
prepare  the  way  for  modern  views  by  developing  his  doctrine 
of  "  tissues."  That  doctrine  regarded  the  body  as  made  up 
of  a  number  of  different  kinds  cf  living  material,  each  kind 
of  material  having  certain  innate  qualities  proper  to  itself 

'  "The  Cell-Theory,"  in  Brit,  and  For.  Med.  Chir.  Rev.,  Yol.  xii. 
1853}  p.  314. 


as  well  as  certain  structural  features,  and  the  several  kindS 
of  material  being  variously  arranged  in  the  body.  Each  of 
these  body-components  was  spoken  of  as  a  tissue,  muscular 
tissue,  nervous  tissue,  and  the  like;  and  the  varied  actions 
of  the  body  were  regarded  as  the  result  of  the  activities  of 
the  several  tissues  modified  and  directed  by  the  circum- 
stance that  the  tissues  were  to  a  great  extent  arranged  id 
mechanical  contrivances  or  organs  which  largely  deter-" 
mined  the  character  and  scope  of  their  actions. 

The  imperfection  of  microscopic  methods  in  Bichat'^ 
time,  and,  we  may  perhaps  add,  his  early  death,  prevented 
him  from  carrying  out  an  adequate  analysis  of  the  qualities 
or  properties  of  the  tissues  themselvei  During  the  middle 
portion  of  this  century,  however,  histological  investigation, 
i.e.,  inquiry  into  the  minute  structure  of  the  tissues,  made 
enormous  progress,  and  laid  the  basis  for  a  physiological 
analysis  of  the  properties  of  tissues.  In  a  short  time  it 
became  possible  to  lay  down  the  generalization  that  all 
the  several  tissues  arise,  as  far  as  structure  is  concerned, 
by  a  difierentiation  of  a  simple  primitive  living  matter, 
and  that  the  respective  properties  of  each  tissue  are  nothing 
inore  than  certain  of  the  fundamental  properties  of  the 
primordial  substance  thrown  into  jjrominence  by  a  division 
of  labour  running  to  a  certain  extent  parallel  to  the  differ- 
entiation of  structure.  Developed  in  a  fuller  manner,  this 
modern  doctrine  may  be  expounded  somewhat  as  follows. 

In  its  simplest  form,  a  living  being,  as  illustrated  by 
some  of  the  forms  often  spoken  of  as  amoeba;,  consists  of 
a  mass  of  substance  in  which  there  is  no  obvious  distinc- 
tion of  parts.  In  the  body  of  such  a  creature  even  the 
highest  available  powers  of  the  microscope  reveal  nothing 
more  than  a  fairly  uniform  network  of  material,  a  network 
sometimes  compressed,  with  narrow  meshes,  sometimes 
more  open,  with  wider  meshes,  the  intervals  of  the  mesh- 
work  being  filled,  now  with  a  fluid,  now  with  a  more  solid 
substance  or  with  a  finer  and  more  delicate  network,  and 
minute  particles  or  granules  of  variable  size  being  some- 
times lodged  in  the  open  meshes,  sometimes  deposited  in 
the  strands  of  the  network.  Sometimes,  however,  the  net- 
work is  so  close,  or  the  meshes  filled  up  with  material  so 
identical  in  refractive  power  with  the  bars  or  films  of  the 
network,  and  at  the  same  time  so  free  from  granules,  that 
the  whole  substance  appears  absolutely  homogeneous,  glassy 
or  hyaline.  Analysis  with  various  staining  and  other  re' 
agents  leads  to  the  conclusion  that  the  substance  of  th« 
network  is  of  a  diflFerent  character  from  the  substance 
filling  up  the  meshes.  Similar  analysis  shows  that  at 
times  the  bars  or  films  of  the  network  are  not  homogeneous, 
but  composed  of  difierent  kinds  of  stuff;  yet  even  in  these 
cases  it  is  difficult  if  not  impossible  to  recognize  any  de-| 
finite  relation  of  the  components  to  each  other  such  as 
might  deserve  the  name  of  structure ;  and  certainly  in 
what  may  be  taken  as  the  more  typical  instance,  where 
the  network  seems  homogeneous,  no  microscopic  search  is 
able  to  reveal  to  us  a  distinct  structural  arrangement  in  its 
substance.  In  all  probability  optical  analysis,  with  all  its 
aids,  has  here  nearly  reached  its  limits ;  and,  though  not^ 
wholly  justified,  we  may  perhaps  claim  the  right  to  con- 
clude that  the  network  in  such  case  is  made  up  of  a 
substance  in  which  no  distinction  of  parts  will  ever  be 
visible,  though  it  may  vary  in  places  or  at  times  in  what 
may  be  spoken  of  as  molecular  construction,  and  may 
carry,  lodged  in  its  own  substance,  a  variety  of  matters 
foreign  to  its  real  self.  This  remarkable  network  is  often 
spoken  of  as  consisting  of  protoplasm,  and,  though  tha^ 
word  has  come  to  be  used  in  several  different  meanings^ 
we  may  for  the  present  retain  the  term.  The  body  of  an 
amceba,  then,  or  of  a  similar  organism  consists  of  a  networls 
or  framework  which  we  may  speak  of  as  protoplasm,  filled 
up  'ndth  other  matters      In  most  cases  it  is  true  that  in 


PHYSIOLOGY 


13 


the  midst  of  this  protoplasmic  body  there  is  seen  a 
peculiar  body  of  a  somewhat  different  and  yet  allied 
nature,  the  so-called  nucleiis ;  but  this  we  have  reason  to 
think  is  specially  concerned  with  processes  of  division  or 
reproduction,  and  may  be  absent,  for  a  time  at  all  events, 
without  uny  injury  to  the  general  properties  of  the  proto- 
plasmic body. 

Now  such  a  body,  such  a  mass  of  simple  protoplasm, 
homogeneous  save  for  the  admixtures  spoken  of  above,  is  a  ■ 
living  body,  and  all  the  phenomena  which  we  sketched  out 
at  the  very  beginning  of-  this  article  as  characteristic  of 
the  living  being  may  be  recognized  in  it.  There  is  the 
same  continued  chemical  transformation,  the  same  rise 
and  fall  in  chemical  dignity,  the  same  rise  of  the  dead 
food  into  the  more  complex  living  substance,  the  same 
fall  of  the  living  substance  into  simpler  waste-products. 
There  is  the  same  power  of  active  movement,  a  move- 
ment of  one  part  of  the  body  upon  another  giving  rise  to 
a  change  of  form,  and  a  series  of  changes  of  form  resulting 
eventually  in  a  change  of  place.  In  what  may  be  called 
the  condition  of  rest  the  body  assumes  a  more  or  less 
spherical  shape."  By  the  active  transference  of  part  of  the 
mass  in  this  or  that  direction  the  sphere  flattens  itself  into 
a  disk,  or  takes  on  the  shape  of  a  pear,  or  of  a  rounded 
triangle,  or  assumes  a  wholly  irregular,  often  star-shaped 
or  branched  form.  Each  of  these  transformations  is  simply 
a  rearrangement  of  the  mass,  ■without  change  of  bulk. 
When  a  bulging  of  one  part  of  the  body  takes  place  there 
is  an  equivalent  retraction  of  some  other  part  or  parts; 
and  it  not  unfrequently  happens  that  one  part  of  the  body 
is  repeatedly  thrust  forward,  bulging  succeeding  bulging, 
and  each  bulging  accompanied  by  a  corresponding  retrac- 
tion of  the  opposite  side,  so  that,  by  a  series  of  movements, 
the  whole  body  is  shifted  along  the  line  of  the  protuber- 
ances. The  tiny  mass  of  simple  living  matter  moves  on- 
ward, and  that  with  some  rapidity,  by  what  appears  to  be 
a  repeated  flux  of  its  semi-liquid  substance. 

The  internal  changes  leading  to  these  movements  may 
begin,  and  the  movements  themselves  be  executed,  by  any 
part  of  the  uniform  body ;  and  they  may  take  place  with- 
out any  obvious  cause.  So  far  from  being  always  the 
mere  passive  results  of  the  action  of  extrinsic  forces,  they 
may  occur  spontaneously,  that  is,  without  the  coincidence 
of  any  recognizable  disturbance  whatever  in  the  external 
conditions  to  which  the  body  is  exposed.  They  appear  to 
be  analogous  to  what  in  higher  animals  we  speak  of  as  acts 
of  volition.  They  may,  however,  be  provoked  by  changes 
in  the  external  conditions.  A  quiescent  amceba  may  be 
excited  to  activity  by  the  touch  of  son)e  strange  body,  or 
by  some  other  event, — by  what  in  the  ordinary  language  of 
physiology  is  spoken  of  as  a  stimulus.  The  protoplasmic 
mass  is  not  only  mobile  but  sensitive.  When  a  stimulus  is 
applied  to  one  part  of  the  surface  a  movement  may  com- 
mence in  another  and  quite  distant  part  of  the  body ;  that 
is  to  say,  molecular  disturbances  appear  to  be  propagated 
along  its  substance  without  visible  change,  after  the  fashion 
of  the  nervous  impulses  we  spoke  of  in  the  beginning  of 
this  article.  The  uniform  protoplasmic  mass  of  the  ama;ba 
exhibits  the  rudiments  of  those  attributes  or  powers  which 
in  the  initial  sketch  we  described  as  being  the  fundamental 
characteristics  of  the  muscular  and  nervous  structures  of 
the  higher  animals. 

These  facts,  and  other  considerations  which  might  be 
brought  forward,  lead  to  the  tentative  conception  of  jiroto- 
plasra  as  being  a  substance  (If  we  may  use  that  word  in 
n  somewhat  loose  sense)  not  only  unstable  in  nature  but 
subject  to  incessant  change,  existing  indeed  as  the  ex- 
pression of  incessant  molecular,  that  is,  chemical  and  phy- 
eical  change,  very  much  as  a  fountain  is  the  expression 
of  aruinceaaact  replacement  of  water.     We  may  picture  to 


ourselves  this  total  change  which  we  denote  by  the  term 
"  metabolism  "  as  consisting  on  the  one  hand  of  a  do\vn- 
ward  series  of  changes  {kalabolic  changes),  a  stair  of  many 
steps,  in  which  more  complex  bodies  are  broken  down  with 
the  setting  free  of  energy  into  simpler  and  simpler  waste 
bodies,  and  on  the  other  hand  of  an  upward  series  of 
changes  {anabolic  changes),  also  a  stair  of  many  steps,  by 
which  the  dead  food,  of  varying  simplicity  or  complexitj-, 
is,  with  the  further  assumption  of  energy,  built  up  into 
more  and  more  complex  bodies.  The  summit  of  this 
double  stair  we  call  "protoplasm."  Whether  we  have  a 
right  to  speak  of  it  as  a  single  body,  in  the  chemical  sense 
of  that  word,  or  as  a  mixture  in  some  way  of  several  bodies, 
whether  we  should  regard  it  as  the  very  summit  of  the 
double  stair,  or  as  embracing  as  well  the  topmost  steps  on 
either  side,  we  cannot  at  present  tell.  Even  if  there  be  a 
single  substance  forming  the  summit,  its  existence  is  abso- 
lutely temporary :  at  one  instant  it  is  made,  at  the  next  it 
is  unmade.  Matter  which  is  passing  through  the  phase  of 
life  rolls  up  the  ascending  steps  to  the  top,  and  forthwith 
rolls  down  on  the  other  side.  But  to  this  point  wo  shall 
return  later  on.  Further,  the  dead  food,  itself  fairly  but 
far  from  wholly  stable  in  character,  becomes  more  and  more 
unstable  as  it  rises  into  the  more  complex  living  material. 
It  becomes  more  and  more  explosive,  and  when  it  reaches 
the  summit  its  equilibrium  is  overthrown  and  it  actually 
explodes.  The  whole  downward  stair  of  events  seems  in 
fact  to  be  a  series  of  explosions,  by  means  of  which  the 
energy  latent  in  the  dead  food  and  augmented  by  the 
touches  through  which  the  dead  food  becomes  living  pro- 
toplasm, is  set  free.  Some  of  this  freed  energy  is  used  up 
again  within  the  material  itself,  in  order  to  carry  on  this 
same  vivification  of  dead,  food ;  the  rest  leaves  the  body 
as  heat  o^  motion.  Sometimes  the  explosions  are,  so  to 
speak,  scattered,  going  off  as  it  were  irregularly  throughout 
the  material,  like  a  quantity  of  gunpowder  sprinkled  over 
a  surface,  giving  rise  to  innumerable  minute  puffs,  but  pro- 
ducing no  massive  visible  effects.  Sometimes  they  take 
place  in  unison,  many  occurring  together,  or  in  such  rapid 
sequence  that  a  summation  of  their  effects  is  possible,  as  in 
gunpowder  rammed  into  a  charge,  and  we  are  then  able 
to  recognize  their  result  as  visible  movement,  or  as  appre- 
ciable rise  of  temperature. 

These  various  phenomena  of  protoplasm  may  be  conven-  Propet 
ientlyspoken  of  under  the  designation  of  so  many  properties,  t>"  of 
or  attributes,  or  powers  of  protoplasm,  it  being  understood  P{]^ 
that  these  words  are  used  in  a  general  and  not  in  any 
definite  scholastic  sense.  Thus  wo  may  speak  of  proto- 
plasm as  having  the  power  of  assimilation,  i.e.,  of  building 
up  the  dead  food  into  its  living  self;  of  movement,  or  of 
contractility  a.a  it  is  called,  i.e.,  of  changing  its  form  through 
internal  explosive  changes;  and  of  irritability  ox  sensitiveness, 
i.e.,  of  responding  to  external  changes,  by  less  massive  in- 
ternal explosions  which,  spreading  through  its  mass,  are  not 
in  themselves  recognizable  through  visible  changes,  though 
they  may  initiate  the  larger  visible  changes  of  movement. 

These  and  other  fundamental  characters,  all  associated 
with  the  double  upward  and  downward  series  of  chemical 
changes,  of  constructive  and  destructive  metabolism,  are 
present  in  protojjlasm  wherever  found  ;  but  a  very  brief 
survey  soon  tcaclies  us  that  specimens  of  protoplasm 
existing  in  diflerent  beings  or  in  different  parts  of  the 
same  being  differ  widely  in  the  relative  prominence  of  one 
or  another  of  these  fundamental  characters.  On  the  one 
hand,  in  one  specimen  of  protoplasm  the  energy  which  is 
set  free  by  the  series  of  explosions  constituting  the  down- 
ward changes  of  destructive  metabolism  may  be  so  directed 
as  to  leave  the  mass  almost  wholly  in  the  form  of  heat, 
thus  producing  very  little  visible  massive  chauRO  of  form. 
Such  a  protoplasm  consequently,  however   irritable  and 


plaao. 


14 


PHYSIOLOGY 


explosive,  exhibits  little  power  of  contractility  or  move- 
ment. In  another  specimen,  on  the  other  hand,  a  very 
large  portion  of  the  energy  similarly  set  free  may  be  spent 
in  producing  visible  changes  of  form,  the  protoplasm  in 
this  instance  being  exquisitely  mobile.  Such  differences 
must  be  due  to  different  internal  arrangements  of  the  proto- 
plasm, though,  since  no  vision,  however  well  assisted,  can 
detect  these  arrangements,  they  must  be  of  a  molecular 
nature  rather  than  of  that  grosser  kind  which  we  generally 
speak  of  as  structural.  It  is  true  that,  as  the  differences 
in  properties  become  more  and  more  prominent,  as  the 
protoplasm  becomes  more  and  more  specialized,  features 
which  we  can  recognize  as  structural  intervene ;  but  even 
these  appear  to  be  subsidiary,  to  accompany  and  to  be  the 
result  of  the  differences  in  property,  or  to  he  concerned  in 
giving  special  directions  to  the  activities  developed,  and 
not  to  be  the  real  cause  of  the  differences  in  action.  We 
are  thus  led  to  the  conception  of  protoplasm  as  existing  in 
various  differentiated  conditions  while  still  retaining  its 
general  protoplasmic  nature,  a  difference  of  constitution 
making  itself  felt  in  the  different  character  of  the  work 
done,  in  a  variation  of  the  results  of  the  protoplasmic  life. 
We  have  a  division  of  physiological  labour  going  hand  in 
hand  with  a  differentiation  of  material,  accompanied  ulti- 
mately by  morphological  results  which  may  fairly  be 
spoken  of  as  constituting  a  differentiation  of  structure. 

Some  of  the  simpler  and  earlier  features  of  such  a  divi- 
sion and  differentiation  may  be  brought  out  by  comparing 
with  the  life  of  such  a  being  as  the  amoeba  that  of  a  more 
complex  and  yet  simple  organism  as  the  hydra  or  fresh- 
water polyp.  Leaving  out  certain  details  of  structure, 
which  need  not  concern  us  now,  we  may  say  that  the 
hydra  consists  of  a  large  numb'er  of  units  or  cells  firmly 
attached  to  each  other,  each  cell  being -composed  of  proto- 
plasm, and  in  its  broad  features  resembling  an  amoeba. 
The  polyp  is  in  fact  a  group  or  crowd  of  amoeba-Uke  cells 
so  associated  together  that,  not  only  may  the  material 
of  each  cell,  within  limits,  be  interchanged  with  that  of 
neighbouring  cells,  but  also  the  dynamic  events  taking 
place  in  one  cell,  and  leading  to  exhibitions  of  energy, 
may  be  similarly  communicated  to  neighbouring  cells,  also 
within  limits.  These  cells  are  arranged  in  a  particular 
way  to  form  the  walls  of  a  tube,  of  which  the  body  of  the 
Kndo-  hydra  practically  consists.  They  form  two  layers  in  appo^ 
'lerni  andsition,  one  an  internal  layer  called  the  endoderm,  lining  the 
lulls.  tube,  the  other  an  external  layer  called  the  ectodei-m,  form- 
ing the  outside  of  the  tube.  And,  putting  aside  minor 
details,  the  differences  in  structure  and  function  observ- 
able in  the  organism  are  confined  to  differences  between 
the  ectoderm  on  the  one  hand,  all  the  constituent  cells  of 
which  are  practically  alike,  and  the  endoderm  on  the 
other,  all  the  cells  of  which  are  in  turn  similarly  alike. 
The  protoplasm  of  the  ectoderm  cells  is  so  constituted 
as  to  exhibit  in  a  marked  degree  the  phenomena  of  which 
we  spoke  above  as  irritability  and  contractility,  whereas 
in  the  endoderm  these  phenomena  are  in  abeyance,  those 
of  assimilation  being  prominent.  The  movements  of  the 
hydra  are  chiefly  brought  about  by  changes  of  form  of 
the  ectoderm  cells,  especially  of  tail-like  processes  of  these 
cells,  which,  arranged  as  a  longitudinal  wrapping  of  the 
tubular  body,  draw  it  together  when  they  shorten,  and 
lengthen  it  out  when  they  elongate,  and  it  is  -by  the 
alternate  lengthening  and  shortening  of  its  body,  and  of 
the  several  parts  of  its  body,  that  the  hydra  changes  its 
form  and  moves  from  place  to  place.  Inauguratine  these 
changes  of  form,  the  products  of  contractility,  are  the  more 
hidden  changes  of  irritability  ;  these  also  are  especially 
developed  in  the  ectoderm  cells,  and  travel  readily  from 
cell  to  cell,  so  that  a  disturbance  originating  in  one  cell, 
either  from  some  extrinsic  cause,  such  as  contact  with  a 


foreign  body,  or  from  intrinsic  events,  may  sweep  from 
cell  to  cell  over  the  surface  of  the  whole  body.  The 
animal  feels  as  well  as  moves  by  means  of  its  ectoderm 
cells.  In  the  endoderm  cells  the  above  phenomena,  though 
not  wholly  absent,  are  far  less  striking,  for  these  cells  are 
almost  wholly  taken  up  in  the  chemical  work  of  digesting 
and  assimilating  the  food  received  into  the  cavity,  the 
lining  of  which  they  form. 

Thus  the  total  labour  of  the  organism  is  divided  between 
these  two  membranes.  The  endoderm  cells  receive  food, 
transmute  it,  and  prepare  it  in  such  a  way  that  it  only 
needs  a  few  final  touches  to  become  living  material,  these 
same  cells  getting  rid  at  the  same  time  of  useless  ingredi- 
ents and  waste  matter.  Of  the  food  thus  prepared  the 
endoderm  cells,  however,  themselves  use  but  little ;  the 
waste  of  substance  involved  in  the  explosions  which  carry 
out  movement  and  feeling  is  reduced  in  them  to  a  mini' 
mum ;  they  are  able  to  pass  on  the  greater  part  of  the 
elaborated  nourishment  to  their  brethren  the  ectoderm 
cells.  And  these,  thus  amply  supplied  with  material 
which  it  needs  but  little  expenditure  of  energy  on  their 
part  to  convert  into  their  Living  selves,  thus  relieved  of  the 
greater  part  of  nutritive  labour,  are  able  to  devote  nearly 
the  whole  of  their  energies  to  movement  and  to  feeling. 

Microscopic  examination  further  shows  that  these  two 
kinds  of  cells  differ  from  each  other  to  some  extent  in 
visible  characters ;  and,  though,  as  we  have  seen,  the  differ- 
ences in  activity  appear  to  be  dependent  on  differences 
in  invisible  molectilar  arrangement  rather  than  on  gross 
visible  differences  such  as  may  be  called  structural,  still 
the  invisible  differences  involve  or  entail,  or  are  accom- 
panied by,  visible  differences,  and  such  differences  as  can 
be  recognized  between  endoderm  and  ectoderm,  even  with 
our  present  knowledge,  may  be  correlated  to  differences 
in  their  work ;  future  inquiry  will  probably  render  the 
correlation  still  more  distinct. 

The  ectoderm  cells  together  constitute  what  we  have 
spoken  of  above  as  a  tissue,  whose  function  in  the  modem 
sense  of  the  word  is  movement  and  feeling,  and  the  endo- 
derm cells  constitute  a  second  tissue,  whose  function  is 
assimilation ;  and  the  phenomena  of  the  whole  being 
result  from  the  concurrent  working  of  these  two  functions. 
Of  organs,  in  the  old  sense  of  the  word,  of  mechanica' 
contrivances,  there  is  hardly  a  trace,  i  The  performances 
of  the  being  are,  it  is  true,  conditioned  by  its  being 
moulded  in  the  form  of  a  long  tubular  sac  with  a  crown 
of  like  tubular  arms,  but  beyond  this  the  explanation  of 
every  act  of  the  hydra's  Ufe  is  first  to  be  sought  in  the 
characters  of  the  endoderm  and  ectoderm.  The  physiology 
of  the  hydra  is,  for  the  most  part,  a  series  of  problems, 
dealing  on  the  one  hand  with  the  intimate  nature  of  the 
ectodermic  protoplasm  and.  the  changes  in  that  protoplasm 
which  give  rise  to  movement  and  feeling,  as  well  as  with 
the  laws  whereby  those  changes  are  so  regulated  that 
movement  and  feeling  come  and  go  as  the  needs  of  the 
organism  may  require,  and  on  the  other  hand  with  the 
intimate  nature  of  the  endodermic  protoplasm  and  the 
changes  in  that  protoplasm  whereby  the  dead  food  is,  also 
according  to  the  needs  of  the  economy,  transformed  into 
living  substance.  Whereas  the  older  physiology  dealt 
almost  exclusively  with  mechamical  problems,  the  physio- 
logy of  to-day  is  chiefly  busied  with  what  may  be  called 
molecular  problems. 

The  physiology  of  the  higher  animals,  including  man, 
is  merely  a  development  of  the  simpler  physiology  of  the 
hydra,  which  has  been  rendered  more  complex  by  a  greater 
division  of  physiological  laborr,  entailing  greater  differen- 

^  The  existence  of  certain  minute  mechanisms  called  urticating 
organs  lodged  in  the  ectoderm  cells  does  not  affect  the  present 
argnment. 


PHYSIO  I-  OGY 


15 


fiation  of  structure,  and  been  varied  by  the  intercalation 
of  numerous  mecbanical  contrivances. 

In  the  hydra  each  ectoderm  cell — for,  broadly  speaking, 
they  are  all  alike — serves  three  chief  purposes  of  the  body. 
( 1 )  It  is  sensitive,  that  is,  it  is  thrown  into  peculiar  mole- 
cular agitations,  with  expenditure  of  energy,  when  acted 
uf>on  by  external  agents.  In  man  and  the  higher  animals 
certain  cells  of  the  original  ectodprm  of  the  embryo  are 
differentiated  from  their  fellows  (which,  losing  to  a  large 
extent  this  sensitiveness,  remain  as  a  mechanical  covering  to 
the  body)  by  a  more  exquisite  development  of  this  power 
of  reaction,  and  moreover  are  differentiated  from  each  other 
in  their  relative  sensitiveness  to  different  agents,  so  that 
one  set  of  cells  becomes  peculiarly  susceptible  to  light, 
another  set  to  pressure,  and  the  like.  Thus  the  uniform 
ectoderm  of  the  hydra,  uniformly  susceptible  to  all  agencies, 
is  rejilaced  by  a  series  of  special  groups  of  cells  forming 
the  basis  of  sensory  organs,  each  group  being  specially 
sensitive  to  one  agent,  and  having  the  nature  of  its  con- 
stituent cells  correspondingly  modified.  (2)  In  each  ecto- 
derm cell  of  the  hydra  the  agitations  primarily  induced 
by  the.  exciting  agent  become  so  modified  by  changes 
taking  place  in  the  cell  that  the  outcome  is  not  always 
the  same.  According  to  processes  taking  place  in  the 
cell,  movement  of  one  kind  or  another,  or  no  movement 
at  all,  may  result,  and  such  movement  as  results  may  take 
place  immediately  or  at  some  other  time  ;  it  may  be  at  a 
time  so  distant  that  the  connexion  between  the  exciting 
disturbance  is  lost,  and  the  movement  appears  to  be  spon- 
taneous. In  man  and  the  higher  animals  these  more 
complex  "  neural "  processes  are  carried  on,  not  by  the 
simple  sensory  cells  which  receive  the  primary  impression, 
but  by  a  gioup  of  cells  set  apart  for  the  purpose.  These 
cells  constitute  a  central  nervous  system,  in  which  a  still 
further  division  of  labour  and  differentiation  of  structure 
takes  place,  the  simple  neurotic  processes  of  the  hydra, 
with  its  dim  volition  and  limited  scope  of  action,  being  de- 
veloped in  a  complex  manner  into  processes  which  rang^ 
from  simple  elaboration  of  the  initial  additional  agitation 
of  the  sensory  cell  into  what  we  speak  of  as  intelligence  and 
thought.  (3)  Each  ectoderm  cell,  by  its  tail-like  prolonga- 
tion, or  by  its  whole  body,  contributes  to  the  movement  of 
the  animal  whHo  still  carrying  on  the  two  other  actions  just 
described.  In  man  and  the  higher  animals  the  material 
of  the  sensory  cell  and  of  the  central  nervous  cells  is  too 
precious  to  be  wasted  in  movements ;  these  accordingly 
are  carried  out  by  groups  of  cells  constituting  the  mus- 
cular tissue,  in  which  both  the  sensitiveness  and  the  higher 
neurotic  processes  of  the  primitive  cell  are  held  in  abey- 
ance ;  indeed,  the  latter  have  almost  disappeared  in  order 
that  the  energy  of  the  protoplasm  may  be  more  completely 
directed  to  producing  those  changes  of  form  wliich  deter- 
mine the  movements  of  the  animal. 

Further,  the  separation  in  space  of  these  three  groups 
of  cells  or  tissues  necessitates  the  introduction  of  elements 
■whereby  the  agitations  set  up  in  the  sensory  cell  should 
be  communicated  to  the  central  nervous  cells,  where  these 
agitations  are  further  elaborated,  as  well  as  of  elements 
whereby  the  muscular  tissue  may  receive  vibrations 
from  the  central  nervous  cells,  so  that  the  movements  of 
the  body  may  be  determined  by  these.  Hence  strands  of 
irritable  protoplasm  whose  energy  is  not  spent  in  move- 
ment, but  wholly  given  up  to  the  rapid  and  easy  trans- 
mission of  molecular  vibrations,  unite,  as  sensory  nerves, 
the  sensory  cells  with  the  central  nervous  cells,  and,  as 
ipotor  nerves,  these  with  the  muscles. 

Lastly,  for  the  adequate  carrying  out  of  complex  move- 
ments, the  contractile  cells,  elongated  into  specially  con- 
etiucted  fibres  and  constituting  the  muscles,  are  arranged, 
with  inert  tissues  such  as  bones,  carti'o^rcs^  tondona,  and 


the  like  ^tissues  of  mecnanical  virtues,  manufactured  by 
an  active  protoplasm,  but  themselves  passive,  no  longer 
active),  into  various  mechanical  contrivances.  Similarly  the 
sensory  ceUs,  as  ijotably  those  of  the  eye  and  the  ear,  set 
apart  to  be  acted  upon  by  special  agents,  are  provided  with 
special  mechanisms  in  order  that  the  agent  may  act  with 
more  complete  precision.  Thus  the  sensory  cells  consti- 
tuting the  retina  of  the  eye,  in  which  alone  sensory,  visual 
impulses  are  generated,  are  provided  with  an  intricate 
dioptric  mechanism,  formed  partly  of  inert  tissues  such 
as  the  lens,  partly  of  peculiarly  arranged  muscular  and 
nervous  elements. 

In  this  way  the  simple  ectoderm  of  the  hydra  is  replaced 
by  a  complicated  system  composed  of  organs,  some  of  them 
of  extremest  intricacy.  But  the  whole  system  may  be  re- 
duced to  two  sets  of  factors.  On  the  one  hand  there  are 
organs  in  the  old  sense  of  the  word,  that  is,  mechanical 
arrangements,  some  connected  with  the  muscles  and  .others 
connected  with  the  sensory  cells,  organs  whose  functions 
have  for  the  most  part  to  be  interpreted  on  mechanical 
principles,  since  their  most  important  factors,  putting  aside 
intervening  muscular  and  nervous  elements,  are  the  inert 
products  of  protoplasm  doing  simple  mechanical  work. 
On  the  other  hand  there  are  organs  in  the  later  sense  of 
the  word,  namely,  sensory  cells  differentiated  to  be  sensi- 
tive to  special  influences,  central  nervous  cells  diflFerentiated 
to  carry  on  J;he  inner  nervous  work,  miiscles  differentiated 
to  contract,  and  nerves  differentiated  to  bind  together  these 
three  other  factors.  The  work  of  these  latter  organs  is 
dependent  on  the  nature  of  their  protoplasm  ;  mechanical 
arrangements  play  but  little  part  in  them ;  and  the  results 
of  their  activity  can  in  no  way  be  explained  on  simple 
mechanical  principles. 

Corresponding  with  this  differentiation  of  the  ectoderm  TMer- 
cells  runs  a  somewhat  similar  differentiation  of  the  endo-  «"''"- 
derm  cells.  In  the  hydra  each  endoderm  cell  appears  to  *'°? 
receive  some  of  the  food  bodily  into  itself  and  there  to  <jenn, 
elaborate  it  into  what  may  be  spoken  of  as  prepared  nutri- 
tive material.  Some  of  this  material  the  cell  retains  within 
itself  in  order  to  renew  its  own  protoplasm  ;  the  rest  oozes 
out  to  the  ectoderm  cells,  the  replenishment  of  whoso  pro- 
toplasm is  thereby  effected  with  a  saving  of  labour.  In* 
the  higher  animals  the  preparation  of  food  is  far  more  com-- 
plicated.  The  endodcrmic  sheet  of  the  alimentary  canal 
is  folded  and  arranged  into  organs  called  glands,  with  the 
mechanical  advantage  that  a  largo  amount  of  surface  ia 
secured  within  a  small  bulk ;  and  the  constituent  endo- 
dermic  cells  of  their  glands  pour  out,  or  secrete,  as  is  said, 
divers  fluids  into  the  cavity  of  the  canal,  so  that  much  pre- 
liminary preparation  of  digestion  of  the  food  takes  place 
before  the  food  really  enters  the  body.  Further,  these 
secreting  glandular  cells  are  so  differentiated  as  to  pour 
out  special  juices  acting  on  special  constituents  of  a  meal, 
and  the  food  subjected  in  turn  to  the  action  of  these  several 
juices  becomes  thoroughly  prc])arcd'for  reception  into  the 
body.  This  reception  is  carried  out  by  other  endoderm 
cells,  which  in  receiving  the  digested  food  probably  act 
upon  it  so  as  still  further  to  heighten  its  nutritive  value  ; 
and  the  absorbed  food,  beforo  it  is  presented  to  the  mus- 
cular and  nervous  tissues,  for  whose  use  it  ia  largely,  though 
of  course  not  exclusively,  intended,  is  subjected  to  the 
action  of  other  cells,  such  as  those  forming  the  lymphatic 
glands  and  the  liver,  in  order  that  it  may  be  still  further 
elaborated,  still  further  prepared  for  the  final  convorsiou 
into  living  protoplasm. 

As  in  the  case  of  the  tissues  and  organs  of  ectodermic 
origin,  so  al.<o  here,  the  wide  separation  in  space  of  the 
masses  of  differentiated  cells  con.stituting  tissues  necessi- 
tates the  introduction  of  mechanical  contrivances  for  the 
carringo  of  mntTial  from  ]ilaro  to  plarp.     In  the  simple 


16 


PHYSIOLOGY 


minute  hydra  the  nutritive  material  can  permeate  tne 
whole  body  by  simply  oozing  from  cell  to  cell.  In  the 
higher  animal  a  hydraulic  system  for  the  distribution  of 
nutritive  material  is  introduced.  A  fluid  is  distributed 
in  a  ceaseless  flow  all  over  the  body  by  a  mechanical 
arrangement,  consisting  cf  a  pump  with  branching  tubes, 
worked  on  mechanical  principles,  and  capable  of  being 
imitated  artificially,  save  that  the  power  which  drives  the 
machine  is  the  energy  set  free  by  living  muscle.  As  this 
circulating  fluid  or  blood  rushes  past  the  endoderm  cells 
which  have  gorged  themselves  from  the  rich  contents  of 
the  alimentary  canal,  it  receives  from  them  some  of  the 
material  which  they  have  absorbed  and  elaborated,  and 
carries  this  nutritive  supply  to  muscles,  nerves,  and  all 
parts  of  the  body.  Similarly  it  carries  away  from  muscles, 
nerves,  and  other  tissues  the  waste-products  of  their  ac- 
tivity, those  broken  fragments  of  simpler  stuffs  into  which, 
as  we  have  seen,  the  complex  protoplasm,  wherever  it 
exists,  is  for  ever  splitting  up,  and  bears  them  back  to 
differentiated  endoderm  and  other  cells,  whose  work  has 
become,  so  to  speak,  inverted,  since  their  activity  is  directed 
to  casting  things  out  of  the  body,  instead  of  receiving 
things  into  the  body.  And  lastly,  by  a  special  arrange- 
ment, by  a  peculiar  property  of  those  red  corpuscles  which 
make  blood  red,  this  circulating  material  at  one  and  the 
same  time  carries  to  each  corner  of  the  body,  not  only  the 
nutritive  material  required  for  building  up  protoplasm,  but 
also  the  oxygen  by  which  the  constructed  protoplasm  may 
suffer  oxidation,  and  in  being  oxidized  set  free  that  energy 
the  manifestation  of  which  is  the  token  of  life.  Blood  is 
in  fact  the  medium  on  which  all  the  various  parts  of  the 
body  live.  Just  as  an  amoeba  finds  in  the  water  which  is 
its  home  both  the  food  with  which  it  builds  itself  up  and 
the  oxygen  with  which  it  breaks  itself  down,  and  returns 
to  the  water  the  waste-products  of  its  continued  disintegra- 
tion, so  each  islet  of  the  living  substance  of  the  higher 
animal,  be  it  muscle  or  nerve  or  gland,  draws  its  food  and 
its  oxygen  from  the  red  blood -stream  sweeping  past  it, 
finding  therein  all  its  needs,  and  sheds  into  the  same 
stream  the  particles  into  which  it  is  continually  breaking 
up,  and  for  which  it  has  no  longer  any  use.  Hence  the 
blood  becomes,  as  it  were,  a  chemical  epitome  of  the  body : 
from  it  each  tissue  takes  something  away  ;  to  it  each  tissue 
gives  something  back.  As  it  sweeps  by  each  tissue,  losing 
and  gaining,  it  makes  the  whole  body  common,  and  when 
working  aright  brings  it  about  that  each  tissue  is  never  in 
lack  of  the  things  which  it  wants,  never  choked  up  with 
the  things  with  which  it  has  done. 

This  vascular  system,  consisting  of  a  force-pump  and 
branching  tubes,  constitutes,  as  we  have  said,  a  mechanical 
arrangement  worked  on  mechanical  principles.  Neverthe- 
less occult  protoplasmic  processes  intervene  as  factors  in 
its  total  work,  ibfot  only  is  the  force-pump  itself  a  living 
muscular  organ,  not  only  are  the  walls  of  the  tubes 
muscular  in  nature,  so  that  the  mere  mechanical  working 
of  the  system  is  modified  by  changes  not  of  mechanical 
origin  taking  place  in  them,  but  the  living  material  which 
lines  the  tubing  throughout,  especially  in  the  minuter 
channels,  fijids  work  to  do,  also  not  of  a  mechanical  nature. 
The  gross  phenomena  of  the  flow  of  blood  through  the 
capillary  channels  may  (see  Vasculae  System)  be  inter- 
preted on  simple  hydraulic  principles ;  but  no  appeal  to 
the  ordinary  physical  laws  of  dead  material  will  explain 
the  phenomena  of  the  interchange  between  the  blood  on 
the  inside  of  a  capillary  wall  and  the  tissue-elements  on 
the  outside.  In  every  tissue,  ba  it  gland,  muscle,  or  nerve, 
the  hlood,  so  far  from  being  actually  in  contact  with  the 
active  protoplasmic  units  of  the  tissue,  is  separated  by  the 
protoplasmic  film  of  the  capillary  wall,  and  by  a  space  or 
spaces,  greater  or  smaller,  filled  with  the  fluid  called  lymph 


and  linea  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  with  protoplasmic 
cells,  which  lining,  often  at  least,  parts  the  tissue-units 
from  the  lymph.  Hence  the  tissue  lives  upon  the  lymjih, 
while  the  lymph  is  replenished  from  the  blood  ;  and  the 
interchange  between  the  tissue -unit  and  the  blood  is  de- 
termined, not  only  by  the  direct  action  of  the  tissue-unii 
on  the  lymph,  but  also  by  the  relations  of  the  lymph  to 
the  blood,  as  regulated  by  the  capillary  wall  and  the  cell 
ular  lining  of  the  lymph-spaces.  We  may  speak  of  the 
interchange  as  broadly  one  of  diffusion  or  osmosis  through 
filmy  membranes ;  but  diffusion  is  not  the  lord  in  the 
matter  :  it  is  rather  a  humble  servant  directed  hither  and 
thither  by  ocourt'  mo'ecular  processes  in  the  protoplasmic 
structures  concerned. 

The  foregoing  rough  analysis  leads  to  a  conception  of 
tne  physiology  of  the  animal  body  which  may  be  expressed 
somewhat  as  follows.  The  body  is  composed  of  different 
kinds  of  matter;  each  kind  of  matter,  arranged  in  units 
more  or  less  discrete,  constitutes  a  tissue ;  and  the  several 
tissues,  though  having  a  common  likeness  in  token  of  their 
origin  from  a  common  primordial  protoplasm,  have  dissimi- 
lar molecular  constitutions,  entailing  dissimilar  modes  of 
activity.  Nor  is  each  tissue  homogeneous,  for  two  parts 
of  the  body,  though  so  far  alike  as  to  be  both  examples  of 
the  same  general  tissue,  may  be  different  in  molecular  con- 
stitution, more  or  less  distinctly  expressed  by  microscopic 
differences  of  structure,  and  correspondingly  different  in 
action.  Thus  a  liver-cell  and  a  kidney-cell,  tliough  both 
examples  of  glandular  tissue,  are  quite  distinct;  so  also 
several  varieties  of  muscular  tissue  exist ;  and  in  the  domi- 
nant nervous  tissue  we  have  not  only  a  broad  distinction 
between 'nerve-fibres  and  nerve-cells,  but  the  several  groups 
of  nerve-cells  which  are  built  up  into  the  brain  and  spinal 
cord,  and  indeed  probably  the  single  nerve-cells  of  these, 
though  all  possessing  the  general  characters,  both  in  struc- 
ture and  function,  of  nervous  protoplasm,  differ  most  -ividely 
from  each  other.  These  several  tissues  of  diverse  consti- 
tution and  activity,  ranging  as  regards  the  rapidity  of  the 
molecular  changes  taking  place  in  them  from  the  irritable, 
unstable,  swiftly-changing  nerve-cell  to  the  stable,  slowly- 
changing,  almost  lifeless  tendon  or  bone,  are  disposed  in 
the  body  .in  various  mechanical  arrangements  constituting 
organs  or  machines,  whereby  the  activities  o(  the  constitu- 
ent tissue-elements  are  brought  to  bear  in  special  direc- 
tions. These  organs  range  from  those  in  which  the  mechan- 
ical provisions  are  dominant,  the  special  activity  of  the 
tissue-elements  themselves  being  in  the  background,  and 
supplying  only  an  obscure  or  even  unimportant  factor,  as 
in  the  organs  of  respiration,  to  those  in  which  the  mechan- 
ical provisions  are  insignificant,  as  in  the  central  nervous 
system,  where  the  chief  mechanical  factor  is  sujiplied  by 
the  distribution  in  space  of  the  nerve  fibres  or  cells. 

Hence  it  is  obvious  that  almost  every  physiological  in-  Natare< 
quiry  of  any  large  scope  is,  or  sooner  or  later  becomes,  physio- 
of  a  mixed  nature.     On  the  one  hand,  investigation  has  '"^^ 
to  -be  directed  to  the  processes  taking  place  in  the  actual  lems. 
tissue-elements,  in  the  protoplasmic  cells  and  modifications 
of  cells.     These  are  essentially  of  a  molecular,  often  of 
a  chemical  or  chemico-physical  nature ;  in  the  problems 
thus  raised  matters  of  form  and  structure,  other  than  that 
of  molecular  structure,  which  no  microscope  can  ever  reveal, 
are  of  secondary  moment  only,  or  have  no  concern  in  the 
.  matter  at  all.      These   may  be  spoken  of  as  the  purely 
physiological  or  as  the  molecular  problems.     On  the  other 
hand,  the  natural  results  of  these  tissue-activities  are  con- 
tinually being  modified  by  circumstances  whose  effect  can 
be  traced  to  the  mechanical  arrangements  under  which  the 
tissue  in  question  is  acting,  whence  arise  problems  which 
have  to  be  settled  on  simple  mechanical  principles. 

We  may  take  as  an  illustration  the  phvs'ology  of  Urn 


PHYSIOLOGY 


17 


kidney.  In  the  old  language  the  function  of  the  kidney 
is  to  secrete  urine.  When  we  come  to  inquire  into  the 
matter,  we  find,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  secretion  of  urine 
— that  is,  the  quantity  and  quality  of  the  urine  escaping 
from  the,  duct  of  the  kidney  in  a  given  period — is  partly 
determined  by  the  quantity  of  blood  passing  through  the 
kidney  and  the  circumstances  of  its  passage.  Now  the 
quantity  of  blood  reaching  the  kidney  at  any  one  time  is 
dependent  partly  on  the  ^^^dth  of  the  renal  arteries,  partly 
on  the  general  pressure  of  the  blood  in  the  arterial  sys- 
tem. The  (vidth  of  the  renal  arteries  is  in  turn  dependent 
on  the  condition  of  their  muscular  walls,  whether  con- 
tracted or  relaxed  ;  and  this  condition  is  determined  by  the 
advent  of  nervous  impulses,  the  so-called  vaso-motor  im- 
pulses, arising  in  the  central  nervous  system  and  passing 
dovra  to  the  renal  arteries  along  certain  nerves.  The  emis- 
sion of  these  vaso-motor  impulses  from  the  central  nervous 
system  is  further  determined,  on  the  one  hand  by  the  con- 
dition of  certain  parts  of  the  central  nervous  system,  the 
so-called  vaso-motor  centres,  and  on  the  other  by  the  passage 
of  certain  aff'erent  sensory  impulses  to  those  vaso-motor 
centres  from  sensory  surfaces  such  as  the  .skin.  Similarly 
the  general  blood-pressure  is  dependent  on  the  condition, 
patent  or  narrowed,  of  the  small  arteries  generally,  this 
being  likewise  governed  by  the  vaso-motor  system  and  on 
the  coincident  work  done  by  the  heart  in  driving  blood  into 
the  great  blood-vessels,  this  work  being  also  governed  by  the 
nervous  system.  Hence  in  attacking  such  a  problem  as  to 
how  any  particular  event,  such  as  the  exposure  of  skin  to  the 
cold,  influences  the  flow  of  blood  through  the  kidney  and 
thus  the  secretion  of  urire,  the  investigator,  without  staying 
to  inquire  into  the  nature  of  nervous  impulses,  or  into  the 
nature  of  changes  taking  place  in  vaso-motor  centres,  &c., 
directs  his  attention  to  determining  what  impulses  are 
generated  under  the  circumstances,  what  paths  they  take,  to 
what  extent  they  are  quantitatively  modified,  how  far  they 
p,nd  their  efiects  react  upon  each  other,  and  so  on.  His 
inquiry  in  fact  takes  on  to  a  large  extent  the  characters  of 
^n  attempt  to  unravel  an  intricate  game,  in  which  the 
counters  are  nervous  impulses,  muscular  contractions,  and 
elastic  reactions,  but  in  which  the  moves  ar?  determined 
by  topographical  distribution  and  mechanical  arrangements. 
But  there  are  other  problems  connected  with  the  phy- 
siology of  the  kidney  of  quite  a  difierent  nature.  The 
kidney  is,  broadly  speaking,  constructed  of  living  proto- 
plasmic cells  so  arranged  that  each  cell  is  on  one  side 
bathed  with  blood  and  lyniph,  and  on  the  other  forms  the 
boundary  of  a  narrow  canal,  which,  joining  with  other 
canals,  ultimately  opens  into  the  urinary  bladder.  Here 
the  question  arises  how  it  is  that  these  protoplasmic  cells, 
having  nothing  to  draw  upon  but  the  common  blood,  which 
is  distributed  to  other  organs  and  tissues  as  well,  are  able 
to  discharge  on  the  other  side  of  them  into  the  canal  the 
fluid  urine,  which  is  absolutely  distinct  from  blood,  which 
contains  substances  wholly  unknown  in  blood,  as  well  as 
substances  which,  though  occurring  in  blood,  are  found 
there  in  minute  quantities  only,  and,  moreover,  are  not 
found  to  escape  from  the  blood  into  any  other  tissues  or 
organs.  In  attempting  to  answer  this  question  we  come 
upon  an  inquiry  of  quite  a  diff"erent  nature  from  the  pre- 
ceding, an  inquiry  for  the  solution  of  which  mechanical 
suggestions  are  useless.  We  have  to  deal  here  with  the 
molecular  actions  of  the  protoplasmic  cell.  We  must 
seek  for  molecular  explanations  of  the  questions,  why 
a  current  sets  across  the  cells  from  blood--capillary  and 
lymph -space  to  the  hollow  canal ;  why  the  substances 
which  emerge  on  the  far  side  are  so  wholly  unlike  those 
which  enter  in  on  the  near  side ;  why,  moreover,  the  in- 
tensity of  this  current  may  wax  and  wane,  now  flooding 
_the  canal  with  urine,  now  nearly  or  quite  drying  up;  why 
19—2 


not  only  the  intensity  of  the  current  but  also  the  absolute 
and  relative  amount  of  the  chemical  substances  carried 
along  it  are  determined  by  events  taking  place  in  the  ceU 
itself,  being  largely  independent  of  both  the  quantity  and 
quality  of  the  blood  which  forms  the  cell's  only  source  of 
supply.  These  and  other  like  questions  can  only  be  solved 
by  looking  with  the  mind's  eye,  by  penetiating  through 
careful  inferences,  into  those  inner  changes  which  we  call 
molecular,  and  which  no  ontical  aid  will  ever  reveal  to  the 
physical  eye. 

These  two  lines  of  mquiry,  which  we  may  call  the 
mechanical  and  the  molecular,  obtain  in  all  parts  of  physio- 
logy, sometimes  the  one  and  sometimes  the  other  being 
dominant.  A  study  of  the  special  articles  dealing  with 
the  several  parts  of  physiology  (see  "Nervous  System" 
below.  Nutrition,  Reproduction,  Respiration,  Vascu- 
LAB  System)  will  perhaps  suificiently  show  this ;  but  it 
may  be  worth  while  to  give  a  very  brief  survey  of  the 
whole  field  from  this  point  of  view. 

The  master  tissues  and  organs  of  the  body  are  the  Brief 
nervous  and  muscular  systems,  the  latter  being,  however,  surver. 
merely  the  instrument  to  give  effect  and  expression  to 
the  motions  of  the  former.  AU  the  rest  of  the  body  serves 
simply  either  in  the  way  of  mechanical  aids  and  protectioil 
to  the  several  parts  of  the  muscular  and  nervous  systems, 
or  as  a  complicated  machinery  to  supply  these  systems  with 
food  and  oxygen,  i.e.,  vnth  blood,  and  to  keep  them  cleansed 
from  waste  matters  throughout  all  their  varied  chanrjes. 
The  physiology  of  the  muscular  system  is  fairly  simple. 
The  mechanical  problems  involved  have  been  long  ago  for 
the  most  part  worked  out,  and  the  molecular  problems 
which  touch  on  the  nature  of  muscular  contractions,  their 
dependence  on  the  blood -supply,  and  their  relations  to 
nervous  impulses  are  b«ng  rapidly  solved.  The  physiology 
of  the  nervous  system,  on  the  other  hand,  is  in  its  infancy. 
The  mechanical  side  of  the  inquiry  is  here  represented, 
inasmuch  as  the  various  actions  of  the  system  are  condi- 
tioned by  the  distribution  and  topographical  arrangement 
of  the  constituent  fibres  and  cells  ;  and  even  these  simple 
problems,  as  may  bo  seen  from  the  article  "  Nervous  Sys- 
tem" below,  are  as  yet  largely  unworkcd.  The  deeper 
molecular  problems,  those  which  deal  with  the  real  nature 
of  the  processes  taking  place  in  cell  and  fibre,  even  the 
simpler  of  these,  such  as  the  one  which  asks  why  the 
neural  protoplasm  of  one  cell,  or  group  of  cells,  seems 
quiescent  iintil  stirred  by  some  foreign  impulse,  its  own 
vibrations  being  otherwise  retained  and  lost  within  its  o^vn 
substance,  while  the  neural  protoplasm  of  another  cell  ia 
continually,  or  from  time  to  time,  discharging  vibratioas, 
as  rhythmic  molecular  pulses,  along  adjoining  fibres, — 
these,  at  the  present  day,  can  hardly  be  said  to  be  touched. 
The  physiology  of  the  nervous  system  is  emphatically 
the  physiology  of  the  future.  ' 

The  rest  of  the  body  may,  from  a  broad  point  of  view, 
be  regarded  as  a  complex  machinery  for  suiiplying  thesq 
master  ti.ssues  with  adequately-prepared  food  and  oxygen^ 
for  cleansing  them  from  the  waste-products  of  their  activity; 
and  for  keeping  them  at  a  temperature  suitable  for  the 
development  of  their  powers.  As  wo  have  already  said, 
the  blood  is  the  agent  which  not  only  supplies  both  food 
and  oxygen  but  sweeps  away  all  refuse,  and,  we  may  add, 
is  the  instrument  for  maintaining  an  adequate  temperature. 
All  the  rest  of  the  body  may  in  fact  bo  looked  upon  as 
busied  in  manufacturing  food  into  blood,  in  keeping  up 
the  oxygon  supply  of  the  blood,  in  sifting  out  from  the 
blood  all  waste  material,  and  in  maintaining  the  blood  at 
a  uniform  heat.  This  work,  of  which  blood  is,  so  to  speak, 
the  centre,  is,  as  wo  have  already  seen,  carried  out  by 
protoplasmic  cells,  many  of  which  are  themselves  of  a  mus- 
cular nature,  often  forming  nart  of  complicated  mechanical 


18 


PHYSIOLOGY 


contrivances,  built  up  partly  of  inert  tissues,  partly  of  active 
tissues,  such  as  muscle  and  nerve.  In  tracing  the  food 
and  oxygen  into  the  blood  and  the  waste  matters  out  of 
the  blood,  in  studying  the  distribution  of  the  blood  itself 
and  the  means  adopted  to  maintain  its  even  temperature, 
■we  come,  as  before,  on  problems  partly  mechanical  or 
chemical  and  partly  molecular.  The  changes  which  the 
food  undergoes  in  the  intestine  can  be,  and  have  been, 
successfully  studied  as  a  series  of  purely  chemical  prob- 
lems conditioned  by  anatomical  arrangements,  such  as  the 
existence  of  an  acid  fluid  in  the  stomach,  succeeded  by 
alkaline  fluids  in  the  intestine,  and  the  like  ;  but  the  ques- 
tions concerned  in  the  discharge  of  the  digestive  juices 
into  the  alimentary  canal,  in  the  secretory  activity  of  the 
digestive  glands,  raise  up  protoplasmic  molecular  inquiries. 
In  the  reception  or  absorption  of  the  digested  food  we 
similarly  find  the  purely  physical  processes  of  difi'usion  and 
the  like  overridden  by  the  special  protoplasmic  activities 
of  the  constituent  cells  of  the  lining  of  the  canal.  In  the 
further  elaboration  of  the  digested  products  the  action  of 
cells  again  intervenes,  as  it  similarly  does  in  the,  so  to 
speak,  inverted  action  by  which  waste  matters  are  cast  out 
of  the  body,  though  in  both  cases  the  results  are  in  part 
conditioned  by  mechanical  contrivances.  The  circulation 
of  the  blood  is  carried  on  by  means  of  an  intricate 
mechanical  contrivance,  whose  working  is  determined  and 
whose  effects  are  conditioned  by  molecular  changes  occur- 
ring in  the  constituent  muscles  and  other  protoplasmic 
cells ;  the  work  done  by  the  heart,  the  varying  width  of 
the  channels,  the  transit  of  material  thi'ough  the  filmy 
capillary  walls,  all  these  are  at  once  the  results  of  proto- 
plasmic activity  and  factors  in  the  mechanica,l  problems  of 
the  flow  of  blood.  The  oxygen  passes  into  and  carbonic 
acid  out  of  the  blood,  through  simple  diffusion,  by  means 
of  the  respiratory  pump,  which  is  merely  a  machine  whose 
motive-power  is  supplied  by  muscular  energy,  and  both 
oxygen  and  carbonic  acid  are  carried  along  in  the  blood 
by  simple  chemical  means ;  but  the  passage  of  oxygen  from 
the  blood  into  the  tissue  and  of  cajbonic  acid  from  the 
tissue  into  the  blood,  though  in  themselves  mere  diffusion 
processes,  are  determined  by  the  molecular  activity  of  the 
constituent  cells  of  the  tissue.  Lastly,  the  blood,  however 
well  prepared,  however  skilfully  driven  to  the  tissue  by  the 
well-timed  activity  of  the  vascular  system,  even  when  it  has 
reached  the  inner  network  of  the  tissue-elements,  is  not  as 
yet  the  tissue  itself.  To  become  the  tissue  it  must  undergo 
molecular  changes  of  the  profoundest  kind  :  it  must  cross 
the  boundary  from  dead  material  to  living  stuff.  The  ulti- 
mate problems  of  nutrition  are  of  the  molecular  kind. 
All  the  machinery,  however  elaborate,  is  preparatory  only, 
and  it  is  the  last  step  which  costs  the  most. 

Of  the  many  problems  concerned  in  these  several  depart- 
ments of  physiology  the  one  class  which  we  have  spoken 
of  as  being  mechanical  in  nature  is  far  too  varied  to  be 
treated  of  as  a  whole.  The  problems  falling  under  it  have 
but  few  features  in  common ;  each  stands,  as  it  were,  on 
its  own  bottom,  and  hag  to  be  solved  in  its  own  way. 
The  problems  of  the  other  class,  however — those  which  we 
have  spoken  of  as  being  molecular  in  nature — have  a  certain 
common  likeness  ;  and  it  may  be  worth  while  to  consider, 
in  a  brief  and  general  manner,  some  of  their  most  striking 
Characters. 

For  this  purpose  we  may  first  of  all  turn  to  the  changes 
taking  place  in  a  secreting  cell,  for  these  have  of  late 
years  been  studied  ^N-ith  signal  success.  They  illustrate 
,what  may  be  called  the  chemical  aspects  of  vital  actions, 
just  as  the  changes  in  a  muscular  fibre,  on  the  other  hand, 
eeem  to  present,  Ln  their  simplest  form,  the  kinetic  aspects 
of  the  same  actions.  If  we  examine  a  secreting  gland, 
Buch  as  a  pancreas  or  a  salivary  gland,  we  find  that  it  is 


composed  of  a  number  of  similar  units,  the  unit  being  d 
secreting  cell  of  approximately  spheroidal  form,  one  part 
of  the  surface  of  which  borders  a  canal  continuous  with  the 
duct  of  the  gland,  while  another  part  is  bathed  in  lymph. 
The  process  of  secretion  consists  in  the  cell  discharging 
into  the  canal  a  fluid  which  is  of  a  specific  character,  inso- 
much as,  though  it  consists  partly  of  water  and  other  sub- 
stances common  to  it  and  other  fluids  of  the  body,  these 
are  present  in  it  in  special  proportions  ;  and  it  also  contains 
substances  or  a  substance  found  in  itself  and  nowhere  else. 
To  enable  it  to  carry  on  this  work  the  cell  receives  supplies 
of  material  from  the  lymph  in  which  it  is  bathed,  the  lymph 
in  turn  being  replenished  from  neighbouring  capillary 
blood-vessels.  The  secreting  cell  itself  consists  of  a  soft 
protoplasmic  "  body,"  of  the  nature  previously  described,  in 
the  midst  of  which  lies  a  "  nucleus."  The  consideration  of 
the  actions  carried  out  by  the  nucleus  may,  for  simplicity's 
sake,  be  left  on  one  side  for  the  present ;  and  we  may 
regard  the  cell  as  a  mass  of  protoplasm  consisting,  as  we 
have  seen,  of  a  network  of  a  particular  nature,  and  of 
other  substances  of  different  nature  filling  up  the  meshes 
or  interstices  of  the  network. 

Such  a  cell  may  exist  under  two  different  crnaitions. 
At  one  time  it  may  be  quiescent :  although  tJio  blood- 
vessels surrounding  it  are  bathing  it  with  IjTnph,  although 
this  lymph  has  free  access  to  the  protoplasm  of  the  cell, 
no  secretion  takes  place,  no  fluid  whatever  passes  from  the 
cell  into  the  canal  which  it  borders.  At  another  time, 
under,  for  instance,  some  influence  reaching  it  along  the 
nerve  distributed  to  the  gland,  although  there  may  be  no 
change  in  the  quantity  or  quality  of  the  blood  passing 
through  the  adjacent  blood-vessels,  a  rapid  stream  of 
material  flows  from  the  protoplasmic  cell -body  into  the 
canal.     How  is  this  secretion  brought  about  1 

If  we  examine  certain  cells,  such,  for  instance,  as  those 
of  the  pancreas,  we  find  that  during  a  period  of  rest  suc- 
ceeding one  of  activity  the  cell  increases  in  bulk,  and 
further  that  the  increase  is  not  so  much  an  enlargement 
of  the  protoplasmic  network  as  an  accumulation  of  material 
in  the  meshes  of  the  network ;  in  fact,  there  appears  to  be 
a  relative  diminution  of  the  actual  protoplasm,  indicating, 
as  we  shall  see,  a  conversion  of  the  substance  of  the  net- 
work into  the  material  which  is  lodged  in  the  interstices 
of  the  network.  This  material  may,  and  frequently  does, 
exist  in  the  form  of  discrete  granules,  recognizablo  under 
the  microscope ;  and  in  the  pancreas  there  is  a  tendency 
for  these  granules  to  be  massed  together  on  the  side  of  the 
cell  bordering  the  lumen  of  the  canal.  During  activity, 
whUe  the  cell  is  discharging  its  secretion  into  tlie  canal, 
these  granules  disappear,  so  that  the  protoplasmic  network 
is  after  prolonged  activity  left  with  a  very  smaU  burden  of 
material  in  its  meshes ;  at  the  same  time  there  also  ap- 
pears to  be  an  accompanying  absolute  increase  of  growth  of 
the  mass  of  the  protoplasm  itself.  We  have  fuit:her  evi- 
dence that  the  substance  which  is  thus  stored  up  in  the 
meshes  of  the  cell,  forming  the  granules,  for  insta'.ice,  just 
spoken  of,  is  not,  as  it  exists  in  the  cells,  the  S!\me  sub- 
stance as  that  which  occurs  in  the  secretion  as  its  charac- 
teristic constituent.  Thus  the  characteristic  consti'.uent  of 
pancreatic  juice  is  a  peculiar  ferment  body  caUed  "  tryp- 
sin," and  we  possess  evidence  that  the  granules  in  the  pan- 
creatic cells  are  not  trypsin.  But  we  have  also  evidence  that 
these  granules  consist  of  material  which,  upon  a  very  slight 
change,  becomes  trypsin,  of  material  which  is  an  ante- 
cedent of  trypsin,  and  which  has  accordingly  been  called 
"  trypsinogen."  Thus  the  cell  during  rest  stores  up  tryp- 
sinogen,  and  the  change  which  characterizes  activity  is  the 
conversion  of  trypsinogen  into  trypsin,  and  its  consequent 
discharge  from  the  cell.  These  are  facts  ascertained  by 
observation  and  experiment,  viz.,  that  trypsinogen  appears 


PHYSIOLOGY 


19 


in  the  protoplasm  of  the  cell,  and  that  in  the  act  of  secre- 
tion this  trypsincgen  is  discharged  from  the  cell  in  the 
form  of  the  simpler  trypsin.  When,  however,  we  come  to 
consider  the  origin  of  the  trypsinogen  we  pass  to  matters 
of  inference  and  to  a  certain  extent  of  speculation. 

Two  views  seem  open  to  us.  On  the  one  hand,  we  may 
adopt  an  old  theory,  once  generally  acce|)ted,  and  suppose 
that  the  cell  picks  out  from  the  lymph  which  bathes  it  part- 
icles of  trj'psinogen,  or  particles  of  some  substance  which 
13  readily  trans-formed  into  trypsinogen,  and  deposits  them 
in  its  substance.  This  may  be  called  the  "  selective  "  theory. 
On  the  other  hand,  we  may  suppose  that  the  trypsinogen 
results  from  the  breaking  down,  from  the  katabolic  or  de- 
structive metabolism  of  the  protoplasm,  being  thus  wholly 
formed  in  the  cell.  This  may  be  called  the  "metabolic" 
theory.  Our  present  knowledge  does  not  permit  us  wholly 
to  prove  or  wholly  to  disprove  either  of  these  theories  ;  but 
such  evulence  as  we  possess  is  in  favour,  and  increasingly 
in  favour,  of  the  metabolic  theory.  All  efforts  to  detect  in 
the  blood  or  in  tlie  lymph  such  substances  as  trypsinogen, 
or  analogous  substances  in  the  case  of  other  glands,  have 
hitherto  failed  ;  and,  although  such  a  negative  argument 
has  its  weakness,  still  it  is  of  avail  as  far  as  it  goes.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  diminution  of  the  protoplasm  in  the 
pancreatic  cell,  pari  passu  with  the  increase  of  trypsinogen, 
and  its  subsequent  renewal  previous  to  the  formation  of 
new  trypsinogen,  strongly  support  the  metabolic  theory, 
and  a  number  of  other  facts  dra^vn  from  the  history  of 
various  animal  and  vegetable  cells  all  tend  strongly  in  the 
same  direction.  We  have  further  a  certain  amount  of 
evidence  that  trypsinogen  arises  from  an  antecedent  more 
complex  than  itself,  as  it  in  turn  is  more  complex  than 
trypsin.  So,  although  clear  demonstration  is  not  as  yet 
within  our  reach,  we  may  with  considerable  confidence 
conclude  that  trypsinogen  and  other  like  products  of 
secreting  cells  arise  from  a  breaking  down  of  the  cell- 
substance,  are  manufactured  by  the  protoplasm  of  the  cell 
out  of  itself. 
)o-  We  are  thus  led   to  the  conception  that  the  specific 

^^  material  of  a  secretion,  such  as  the  trypsin  of  pancreatic 
juice,  comes  from  the  protoplasm  of  the  cell,  through  a 
number  of  intermediate  substances,  or  mesostates  as  they 
are  called ;  that  is  to  say,  the  complex  protoplasm  breaks 
down  into  a  whole  series  of  substances  of  decreasing  com- 
plexity, the  last  term  of  which  is  the  specific  substance  of 
the  secretion.  Now  the  protoplasm  is  undoubtedly  formed 
at  the  expense  of  the  material  or  pabulum  brought  to  it 
from  the  blood  through  the  medium  of  the  lymph  ;  the 
pabulum  becomes  protoplasm.  Here  also  two  views  are 
open  to  us.  On  the  one  hand,  we  may  suppose  that  the 
cruda  pabulum  is  at  once  by  a  magic  stroke,  as  it  were, 
built  up  into  the  living  protoplasm.  On  the  other  hand, 
we  may  suppose  that  the  pabulum  reaches  the  stage. of 
protoplasm  through  a  series  of  substances  of  increasing 
comph  ■'iity  and  instaliility,  the  last  stage  being  that  which 
we  ca))  protoplasm.  And  here,  too,  no  absolute  decision 
between  the  two  views  is  possible,  but  such  evidence  as 
we  do  possess  is  in  favour,  and  increasingly  in  favour,  of 
the  latter  view. 

We  may  therefore  with  considerable  confidence  anti- 
cipate the  future  arrival  of  evidence  which  will  demonstrate 
the  aa  yet  only  probable  view  that  in  the  secreting  cell 
there  are  two  series  of  events,  two  staircases,  as  it  were,  of 
chemical  transformation, — one  an  a.scending  staircase  of 
synthetic,  anabolic  processes  through  which  the  pabulum, 
consisting  of  several  sub.stances,  some  of  them  already  com- 
plex and  \uiatable,  is  built  up  into  the  still  more  complex 
and  stili  more  unstable  protoplasm  ;  the  other  a  descending 
Btaircase,  consisting  of  a  series  of  katabolic  processes  giving 
rise  to  substances  of  decreasing  complexity  and  increasing 


stability.  The  substances  or  mesostates  appearing  in  the 
former  we  may  speak  of  as  "anastates,"  those  of  the  latter 
we  may  call  "  katastates."  At  each  step  of  the  former,  by 
which  a  simpler  anastate  becomes)  or  by  which  simpler 
anastates  become,  a  more  complex  one,  energy  is  absorbed  ; 
at  each  step  of  the  latter  energy  is  set  free.  And,  since 
in  the  animal-cell  the  initial  anastates  seem  always  or  at 
least  generally  more  comj)lex  than  the  final  katastates, 
the  total  life  of  the  animal-cell  is  virtually  a  giving  forth 
of  energy. 

So  far  we  have  spoken  of  the  secreting  cell,  but  we  have 
evidence  that  in  the  activity  of  a  muscle  a  similar  series 
of  events  takes  place.  Reduced  to  theoretical  simplicity, 
the  unit  a  number  of  which  go  to  form  a  muscle  is  a  proto- 
plasmic cell,  undergoing,  like  the  secreting  cell,  a  con- 
tinual metabolism,  with  a  change  in  the  results  of  that 
metabolism  at  the  moment  of  fumctional  activity.  Put  in 
a  bald  way,  the  main  difference  between  a  secreting  cell 
and  a  muscle-cell,  or  elementary  muscle-fibre  as  it  is  often 
called,  is  that  in  the  former  the  products  of  the  metabolism 
constitute  the  main  object  of  the  cell's  activity,  a  change 
of  form  being  of  subordinate  importance,  whereas  in  the 
latter  the  change  of  form,  an  increase  of  one  axis  at  the 
expense  of  another,  a  shortening  with  corresponding  thick- 
ening, is  the  important  fact,  the  products  of  the  metabol- 
ism which  thus  gives  rise  to  the  change  of  form  being  of 
secondary  value. 

Now  we  have  evidence,  which,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
secreting  cell,  though  not  demonstrative,  is  weighty  and 
of  daily  increasing  weight,  that  the  change  of  form,  the 
contraction  of  a  muscle,  is  due  to  a  sudden  metabolism, 
to  an  explosive  decomposition  of  what  may  be  called 
"contractile  substance,"  a  substance  which  appears  to  be 
used  up  in  the  act  of  contraction,  and  the  consumption  of 
which  leads  with  other  events  to  the  exhaustion  of  a 
muscle  aft(  .•  prolonged  exertion.  We  know  as  a  matter 
of  fact  that  when  a  muscle  contracts  there  is  an  evolution 
of  a  considerable  quantity  of  carbonic  acid,  and  a  chemical 
change  of  such  a  kind  that  the  muscle  becomes  acid. 
This  carbonic  acid  must  have  some  antecedent,  and  the 
acidity  must  have  some  cause.  It  is  of  course  possible 
that  the  protoplasm  itself  explodes,  and  is  the  immediate 
parent  of  the  carbonic  acid  and  the  direct  source  of  the 
energy  set  free  in  the  contraction  ;  but  evidence  analogous 
to  that  brought  forward  in  relation  to  the  secreting  cell 
leads  to  the  conclusion  that  this  is  not  so,  but  that  the 
explosion  takes  place  in,  and  that  the  energy  is  derived 
from,  a  specific  contractile  substance.  And  there  is  further 
evidence  that  this  hypothetical  substance,  to  which  the 
name  of  "  inogen  "  has  been  provisionally  given,  is,  like  its 
analogue  in  the  secreting  cell,  a  katastate.  So  that  the 
contracting  activity  ol  a  muscular  fibre  and  the  secreting 
activity  of  a  gland-cell  may  be  compared  with  each  other, 
in  so  far  as  in  each  case  the  activity  is  essentially  a  decom- 
position or  explosion,  more  or  less  rapid,  of  a  katastate,  the 
inogen  in  the  one  instance,  the  trypsinogen  or  some  other 
body  in  the  other  instance,  with  the  setting  free  of  energy, 
which  in  the  case  of  thb  secreting  cell  leaves  the  sub- 
stance wholly  as  heat,  but  in  the  case  of  the  muscle  partly 
as  movement,  the  activity  being  followed  in  each  case  by 
the  discharge  from  the  fibre  or  cell  of  the  products,  or  some 
of  the  products,  of  this  decomposition. 

Further,  we  may  carry  on  the  parallel  to  nervous  sub- 
stance. As  a  nervous  impulse  travels  along  a  ncrvo-Cbre  or 
pursues  its  intricate  course  along  the  fibrillar  tracts  of  o 
nerve-cell,  the  amount  of  chemical  change  is  too  slight  to 
be  satisfactorily  appreciated  by  the  methods  at  present 
under  our  command.  There  is  certainly  no  massive  ex- 
plosion like  that  of  a  muscular  fibre,  and  the  most  striking 
phenomena  attending  the  passage  of  a  nervous  imnnlse  are 


20 


PHYSIOLOGY 


of  an  electrical  nature.  We  cannot  indeed  distinctly  prove 
that  any  cbemical  change  does  really  accompany  nervous 
activity ;  but  from  many  considerations  it  is  extremely 
probable  that  a  chemical  change,  an  explosive  decomposition 
of  more  complex  into  more  simple  substances,  is  the  basis 
of  a  nervous  impulse.  The  energy,  however,  which  is  set 
free  by  this  decomposition  is  not  discharged  from  the 
nervous  substance  to  so  great  an  extent  as  is  the  case  in  the 
muscle-fibre,  but  is  largely  consumed  in  conveying  or  con- 
ducting the  decomposition  from  one  particle  of  the  nervous 
substance  to  succeeding  ones, — that  is  to  say,  in  carrying 
out  that  which  is  the  essential  work  of  the  nervous  sub- 
stance. Moreover,  even  in  a  muscle,  while  the  explosion  of 
inogen  and  the  consequent  shortening  and  thickening  of 
th^  muscle-substance  travel  along  the  fibre  from  particle 
to  particle  in  the  form  of  a  wave  starting  from  the 
junction  of  the  nerve-fibre  with  the  muscular  fibre,  or  from 
some  other  point  of  stimulation,  this  wave  of  visible  con- 
traction is  preceded  by  invisible  molecular  changes  also 
travelling  along  the  fibre  in  the  form  of  a  wave,  changes 
which  manifest  themselves  by  no  massive  explosions,  which 
are  indicated  by  electrical  phenomena  chiefly,  and  which 
are  exceedingly  like  the  nervous  impulses  of  proper  nervous 
structures.  In  the  very  substance  of  the  muscular  fibre 
there  appears  to  be  a  material  -nhich  is  not  inogen,  but 
■which  is  capable  of  undergoing  changes,  probably  of  the 
nature  of  an  explosive  decomposition,  and  it  is  these  which 
in  turn  induce  the  more  massive  decomposition  of  the 
inogen.  it  is  possible,  indeed  probable,  that  the  con- 
stituent particles  of  inogen  are  not  able  to  communicate 
their  explosions  to  each  other,  so  that  the  presence  in  the 
muscular  fibre  of  an  impulse-carrying  material  is  a  neces- 
sity. Be  this  as  it  may,  a  change  antecedent  to  the 
explosion  which  is  the  cause  of  the  actual  contraction  does 
occur  in  every  particle  of  the  muscle  which  contracts,  and, 
as  we  have  urged,  the  change  is  probably  one  taking  place 
in  a  special  substance.  This  substance  may  be  the  verit- 
able protojilasm  itself  of  the  fibre,  but  considerations 
analogous  to  those  urged  before  would  lead  us  to  suppose 
that  it  too  is  a  katastate,  but  a  katastate  difTerent  in 
qualities  from  inogen ;  and  we  may  furthur  suppose  that 
a  very  similar  katastate  is  manufactured  by  nervous  proto- 
plasm, and  by  its  decomposition  gives  rise  to  nervous 
energy.  This  katastate  is,  as  it  were,  the  fuse  or  trigger 
whose  action  fires  the  massive  charge  of  the  muscular  gun, 
and  might  receive  the  name  of  "apheter." 
Meta-  If  we  accept  this  view  as  to  the  nature  of  the  simple 

changes  i^ervous  impulses  which  sweep  along  nerve-fibres — and  in 
lu  cen-  ,  this  respect  motor  and  sensory  nerves  would  seem  wholly 
neivous  ^li^^e — there  is  no  great  difficulty  in  extending  the  con- 
eystenn  ception  to  the  more  complicated  processes  taking  place  in 
the  central  nervous  system.  An  ordinary  reflex  act,  so 
called,  is  perhaps  one  of  the  simplest  labours  of  that  system, 
and  we  have  evidence  that  in  a  reflex  act  sensory  impulses 
arriving  along  a  sensory  fibre  at  the  protoplasm  of  a  nerve- 
cell  induce  in  that  protoplasm  changes  which,'  though  in 
certain  respects  differing  from,  are  fvmdamentally  analogous 
to,  those  changes  in  motor  and  sensory  nerve-fibres  which 
constitute  their  respective  nervous  impulses.  The  chief 
difference  is  that,  whereas  along  sensory  and  motor  fibres 
the  impulses  pursue  an  even  course,  possibly  undergoing 
some  augmentation,  but  one  which  is  not  sufficiently 
'  marked  to  be  beyond  doubt,  in  the  nerve-ceU,  on  the 
contrary,  an  unmistakable  augmentation  accompanied  by  a 
systematic  dispersion  takes  place.  So  great  is  the  augment- 
ation in  some  cases  that  a  gentle  short  aeries  of  sensory  im- 
pTlIses  reaching  one  of  a  group  of  nerve-cella  along  a  single 
sensory  fibre  may  throw  the  whole  groiap  of  nerve-cells 
into  such  profound  agitation  that  repeated  series  of  even 
violent  impulses  may  be  discharged  along  a  multitude  of 


motor  fibres.  Allowing  for  this  increase  in  the  energy 
set  free,  the  changes  in  the  nerve-cells  do  not  seem  to  diflFer 
fundamentally  from  those  in  the  nerve-fibres  (which  indeed 
differ  to  a  certain  extent  among  themselves),  and  may, 
like  them,  be  regarded  as  due  essentially  to  the  decomposi- 
tion of  some  katastate  or  katastates. 

Further,  just  as  the  apheter  of  the  muscular  fibre,  that 
which  inaugurates  the  explosion  of  the  contractile  inogen, 
difi"ers  from  the  apheter  of  the  nerve -fibre,  so  we  may 
suppose  that  in  the  various  nerve-cells  of  different  parts  of 
the  central  nervous  system  diflerence  of  function,  while 
partly  due  to  the  mere  arrangement  and  distribution  of 
nervous  impulses  of  the  same  kind,  is  also  and  more  largely 
due  to  difi'erence  in  the  kind  of  impulses  brought  about 
by  difi'erence  in  the  composition  and  mode  of  decomposition 
of  the  nervous  material.  For  instance,  certain  changes  in 
the  nervous  system  are  accompanied  by  distinct  changes  of 
consciousness,  while  others  are  not.  And,  while  we  may 
justly  refuse  to  attempt  any  explanation  of  consciousness,  Gon.- 
it  is  nevertheless  within  our  right  to  suppose  that,  in  that  sciou«« 
nervous  substance  which  is  the  highest  development  of"**^ 
protoplasm  and  to  whose  service  the  whole  body  minis- 
ters, amid  the  many  substances  of  increasing  complexity 
and  dignity  which  enter  into  its  composition  there  should 
be  a  substance  or  some  substances  the  changes  in  which 
are,  or  may  be,  accompanied  by  consciousness.  The  doc- 
trine of  evolution  compels  us  to  admit  that  consciousness 
must  be  potentially  present  in  the  simple  protoplasm  of  the 
amoeba,  and  must  be  similarly  present  in  all  the  tissues  of 
the  highly-developed  animal,  instead  of  being  confined  to 
some  limited  portion  of  the  nervous  system.  Evolution 
refuses  to  admjt  a  sharp  line  of  demarcation  between  a 
"  conscious  "  and  a  "  non-conscious  "  part,  and  this  decision 
is  increasingly  supported  as  our  knowledge  of  the  nervous 
system  advances.  But  a  great  deal  of  the  earlier  part  of 
this  article  was  directed  to  show  that  all  the  powers  of  the 
complex  animal  are  the  outcome  of  the  difi'erentiation  of  a 
primordial  protoplasm,  while ^he  discussion  concerning  the 
molecular  changes  of  tissues  in  which  we  are  now  engaged 
is  simply  an  attempt  to  trace  out  how  that  differentiation 
has  taken  place.  And,  as  far  as  we  can  see,  there  are 
no  just  reasons  why  the  differentiation  which  sets  apart 
the  nervous  tissue  from  other  parts  of  the  body  should 
not  obtain  in  the  nervous  tissue  itself,  and  the  obscure 
rudiments  of  consciousness  present  in  all  nervous  material 
become  by  differentiation  developed,  in  some  particular 
kinds  of  nervous  substance,  into  consciousness  more  strictly 
so  called. 

In  the  case,  then,  of  secreting  cells,  of  muscular  tissue, 
and  of  the  various  forms  of  nervous  tissue  the  tendency 
of  inquiries  into  the  molecular  processes  taking  place  in 
them  is  to  lead  us  to  regard  the  varied  activities  of  these 
tissues  as  due  to  molecular  disruptive  changes  in  their 
several  katastates.  these  being  various  stages  of  the  down- 
ward metabolism  or  katabolism  of  protoplasm. 

Similar  considerations  might  be  extended  to  other  tissues 
of  the  body  which  are  neither  nervous  nor  muscular,  and, 
though  engaged  in  chemical  work,  are  not  distinctly 
secretory  or  excretory,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  hepatic 
cells  engaged  in  the  elaboration  of  glycogen.  They  might 
also  be  extended  to  those  tissues  in  which  the  katastates 
are  not  exploded  and  discharged,  but  retained  and  massed 
up  in  the  body  for  mechanical  or  other  purposes,  to  car- 
tilage, for  instance,  the  chondrigenous  basis  or  ground- 
substance  which  many  considerations  show  to  be  a  product 
or  katastate  of  protoplasm.  'We  are  thus  led  to  the  con- 
ception, brought  forward  in  an  earlier  part  of  this  article, 
that  all  over  the  body  protoplasm  is  continually  building 
itself  up  out  of  the  pabulum  supplied  by  food,  and  con- 
tinually breaking  down,  giving  rise  in  different  tissues  and 


PHYSIOLOGY 


21 


different  parts  of  the  body  to  different  katastates  with 
different  composition  and  different  properties,  the  various 
activities  of  the  body  being  the  outconja  of  the  various 
properties  of  the  various  katastates.  If  this  be  admitted, 
it  almost  inevitably  follows  that  what  we  have  called  proto- 
plasm cannot  be  always  the  same  thing,  that  there  must 
be  many  varieties  of  protoplasm  with  different  qualities 
and  with  correspondingly  different  molecular  structure  and 
composition.  If  this  be  so,  the  question  naturally  arises, 
why  use  the  word  protoplasm  at  all,  since,  by  the  showing, 
it  seems  to  have  no  exact  meaning  1  But  it  has  an  exact 
meaning.  All  the  evidence  at  our  disposal  goes  to  show 
that  a  katastate  of  any  given  degree  cannot  form  a  fresh 
katastate  of  the  same  degree ;  any  one  katastate  can  only 
arise  from  the  decomposition  of  a  preceding  more  complex 
katastate,  and  that  in  tvirn  from  a  katastate  still  more 
complex.  Passing  upwards,  we  come  at  last  to  something 
which,  instead  of  proceeding  from  a  more  complex  sub- 
stance, builds  itself  up  out  of  a  less  complex,  more  simple 
substance,  and  it  is  this  something,  whatever  its  exact 
composition,  into  whatever  katastates  it  is  destined  to  fall 
asunder,  to  which  the  generic  name  "  protoplasm  "  should 
be  given.  Possibly  another  new  name  were  better,  but 
there .  are  advantages  in  retaining  the  old  term.  It  is 
protoplasm  in  this  sense  which  is  alone  living ;  it  is  its 
synthetic  power  which  is  its  token  of  being  alive.  That 
synthetic  power  is,  we  must  admit,  exercised  along  the 
ascending  series  of  anastates.  But  here  our  knowledge  is 
a  blank  ;  and  it  would  be  simply  waste  of  time  to  speculate 
as  to  the  details  of  the  constructive  processes.  Using  the 
word  "  protoplasm "  in  this  sense,  it  is  obvious  that  the 
varieties  of  protoplasm  are  numerous,  indeed  almost  in- 
numerable. The  muscular  protoplasm  which  brings  forth 
a  contractile  katastate  must  differ  in  nature,  in  com- 
position— that  is,  in  construction — from  glandular  proto- 
plasm, whose  katastate  is  a  mother  of  ferment.  Further, 
the  protoplasm  of 'the  swiftly  contracting  striped  muscular 
fibre  must  differ  from  that  of  the  torpid  smooth  unstriated 
fibre ;  the  protoplasm  of  human  muscle  must  differ  from 
that  of  a  sheep  or  a  frog ;  the  protoplasm  of  one  muscle 
must  differ  from  that  .of  another  muscle  in  the  same  kind 
of  animal ;  and  the  protoplasm  of  Smith's  biceps  must 
differ  from  that  of  Jones's. 

We  may,  for  a  moment,  turn  aside  to  point  out  that  this 
innate  difference  of  protoplasm  serves  to  explain  the  con- 
clusions to  which  modern  investigations  into  the  physiology 
of  nutrition  seem  to  be  leading.  So  long  as  we  speak  of 
muscle  or  flesh  as  one  thing,  the  step  from  the  flesh  of 
mutton  which  wo  eat  to  the  flesh  of  our  body  which  the 
mutton,  when  eaten,  becomes,  or  may  become,  does  not 
seem  very  far ;  and  the  older  physiologists  very  'naturally 
assumed  that  the  flesh  of  the  meal  was  directly,  without 
great  effort  and  without  great  change,  as  far  as  mere 
chemical  composition  is  concerned,  transformed  into  the 
muscle  of  the  eater.  The  researches,  however,  of  modern 
times  go  to  show  that  the  substances  taken  as  food  undergo 
many  changes  and  suffer  profound  disruption  before  they 
actually  become  part  and  parcJ  of  the  living  bo<ly,  and 
conversely  that  the  constructive  powers  of  the  aninml  body 
were  grossly  under-rated  by  earlier  investigators.  If  one 
were  to  put  forward  the  thesis  that  the  proteid  of  a  meal 
becomes  reduced  almost  to  its  elements  before  it  undergoes 
synthesis  into  the  superficially  similar  proteid  of  muscle, 
the  energy  .set  free  in  the  destruction  being  utilized  in  the 
subsequent  work  of  construction,  ho  might  appeal  with 
confidence  to  modern  results  as  sujjporting  him  rather 
than  opposing  him  in  his  views.  It  would  almost  seem  as 
if  the  qualities  of  each  particle  of  living  protojilasm  were 
of  such  an  individual  character  that  it  had  to  be  built 
up  afresh  from  almost  the  very  beginning;  hence  the  ira-. 


mense  construction  which  inquiry  shows  more  and  more 
clearly  every  day  to  be  continually  going  on  as  well  in  the 
animal  as  in  the  vegetable  body. 

Taking  into  consideration  all  the  fine  touches  which 
make  up  the  characters  of  an  individual  organism,  and 
remembering  that  these  are  the  outcome  of  the  different 
properties  or  activities  of  the  several  constituent  tissues  of 
the  body,  working  through.a  delicately-balanced  complicated 
machinery,  bearing  in  mind  the  far-reaching  phenomena 
of  heredity  by  which  the  gross  traits  and  often  the  minute 
tricks  of  the  parents'  body  are  reproduced  in  the  offspring, 
if  there  be  any  truth  at  all  in  the  views  which  we  have 
urged,  tracing  the  activities  of  the  organism  to  the  con- 
stitution of  its  protoplasm,  this  must  be  manifold  indeed. 
The  problems  of  physiology  in  the  future  are  largely  con- 
cerned in  arriving,  by  experiment  and  inference,  by  the 
mind's  eye,  and  not  by  the  body's  eye  alone,  asoisted  as 
that  may  be  by  lenses  yet  to  be  introduced,  at  a  knowledge 
of  the  molecular  con.struction  of  this  protean  protoplasm, 
of  the  laws  according  to  which  it  is  built  up,  and  the  laws 
according  to  which  it  breaks  down,  for  these  laws  when 
ascertained  will  clear  up  the  mysteries  of  the  protean  work 
which  the  protoplasm  does. 

And  here  we  may  venture  to  introduce  a  word  of  caution. 
We  have,  in  speaking  of  protoplasm,  used  the  words  "con-' 
struction,"  "composition,"  "decomposition," and  the  like, 
as  if  protoplasm  Were  a  chemical  substance.  And  it  is  a 
chemical  substance  in  the  sense  that  it  arises  out  of  the 
union  or  coincidence  of  certain  factors,  which  can  be  resolved 
into  what  the  chemists  call  "  elements,"  and  can  be  at  any 
time  by  appropriate  means  broken  up  into  the  same  factors, 
and  indeed  into  chemical  elements.  This  is  not  the  place 
to  enter  into  a  discussion  upon  the  nature  of  so-called 
chemical  substances,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  a  discus- 
sion concerning  the  nature  of  matter ;  but  we  may  venture 
to  assert  that  the  more  these  molecular  problems  of  phy- 
siology, with  which  we  are  now  dealing,  are  studied  the 
stronger  becomes  the  conviction  that  the  consideration  of^ 
what  we  call  "  structure  "  and  "  composition  "  must,  in  har- 
mony with  the  modern  teachings  of  physics,  be  approached 
under  the  dominant  conception  of  modes  of  motion.  The 
physicists  have  been  led  to  consider  the  qualities  of  things 
as  expressions  of  internal  movements ;  even  more  impera-' 
five  does  it  seem  to  us  that  the  biologist  should  regard  the 
qualities  (including  structure  and  composition)  of  proto- 
plasm as  in  like  manner  the  expression  of  internal  move- 
ments. He  may  speak  of  protoplasm  as  a  complex  sub- 
stance, but  he  must  strive  to  realize  that  what  he  means 
by  that  is  a  complex  whirl,  an  intricate  dance,  of  which 
what  he  calls  chemical  composition,  histological  structure, 
and  gross  configuration  are,  so  to  speak,  the  figures ;  to 
him  the  renewal  of  protoplasm  is  but  the  continuance  of 
the  dance,  its  functions  and  actions  the  transferences  of 
figures.  In  so  obscure  a  subject  it  is  ditlicult  to  speak 
otherwise  than  by  parables,  and  wo  niaj'  call  to  mind  how 
easy  it  is  to  realize  the  comparison  of  the  whole  body  of 
man  to  a  fountain  of  water.  As  the  figure  of  the  fountain 
remains  the  same  though  fresh  water  is  continually  rising 
and  falling,  so  the  body  seems  the  same  though  fresh  food 
is  always  replacing  the  old  man  which  in  turn  is  always 
falling  back  to  dust.  And  tho  conception  which  wo  are 
urging  now  is  one  which  carries  an  analogous  idea  into  Hie 
study  of  all  tho  molecular  phenomena  of  the  body.  Wo 
must  not  pursue  tho  subject  any  further  here,  but  we  felt 
it  necessary  to  introduce  the  caution  concerning  the  word 
"substance,"  and  wo  may  rci)eat  tiro  assertion  that  it  seems 
to  us  necessary  for  a  satisfactory  study  of  the  problems  ou 
which  wo  have  been  dwelling  for  the  last  few  pages  to  keep 
clearly  before  the  mind  the  conception  that  tho  phenomena 
in  question  are  the  result  not  of  properties  of  kinds  of 


22 


PHYSIOLOGY 


tnatter,  in  the  vulgar  sense  of  these  words,  but  of  kinds 
of  motion. 

In  the  above  brief  sketch  we  nave  dealt  chiefly  with 
such  well-known  physiological  actions  as  secretion,  muscular 
contractions,  and  nervous  impulses.  But  we  must  not  hide 
from  ourselves  the  fact  that  these  grosser  activities  do  not 
comprise  the  whole  life  of  the  tissues.  Even  in  the  simple 
tissues,  and  more  especially  in  the  highly-developed  nervous 
tissues,  there  are  finer  actions  which  the  conception  out- 
lined above  wholly  fails  to  cover. 

Two  sets  of  vital  phenomena  have  hitherto  baffled  in- 
quirers,— the  phenomena  of  spontaneous  activity,  rhythmic 
or  other,  and  the  phenomena  of  "  inhibition."  All  attempts 
to  explain  what  actually  takes  place  in  the  inner  working 
of  the  tissues  concerned  when  impulses  passing  down  the 
pneuraogastric  nerve  stop  the  heart  from  beating,  or  in  the 
many  other  analogous  instances  of  the  arrest  of  activity 
through  activity,  have  signally  failed;  the  superficial  re- 
semblance to  the  physical  "  interference  of  waves  "  breaks 
down  upon  examination,  as  indeed  do  all  other  hj^otheses 
which  have  as  yet  been  brought  forward.  And  we  are 
wholly  in  the  dark  as  to  why  one  piece  of  protoplasm  or 
muscular  fibre  or  nervous  tissue  remains  quiescent  till 
stirred  by  some  stimulus,  while  another  piece  explodes 
into  activity  at  rhythmic  intervals.  We  may  frame  ana- 
logies and  may  liken  the  phenomena  to  those  of  a  constant 
force  rhythmically  overcoming  a  constant  resistance,  but 
such  analogies  bring  us  very  little  nearer  to  understanding 
what  the  molecules  of  the  part  are  doing  at  and  between 
the  repeated  moments  of  activity. 
Herlng'i  Further,  if  the  ingenious  speculations  of  Hering,  that 
sDecuia-  specific  colour-sensations  are  due  to  the  relation  of  assimi- 
lation (anabolism)  to  dissimilation  (katabolism)  of  proto- 
plasmic visual  substances  in  the  retina  or  in  the  brain, 
should  finally  pass  from  the  condition  of  speculation  to 
that  of  demonstrated  truth,  we  should  be  brought  face 
to  face  with  the  fact  that  the  mere  act  of  building  up  or 
the  mere  act  of  breaking  down  affects  the  condition  of 
protoplasm  in  other  ways  than  the  one  which  we  have 
hitherto  considered,  viz.,  that  the  building  up  provides 
energy  to  be  set  free  and  the  breaking  down  lets  the 
energy  forth.  In  Hering's  conception  the  mere  condition 
of  the  protoplasm,  whether  it  is  largely  built  up  or  largely 
broken  down,  produces  effects  which  result  in  a  particular 
state  of  consciousness.  Now,  whatever  views  we  may  take 
of  consciousness,  we  must  suppose  that  an  affection  of  con- 
sciousness is  dependent  on  a  change  in  some  material. 
But  in  the  case  of  colour-sensations  that  material  cannot 
be  the  visual  substance  itself,  but  some  other  substance. 
That  is  to  say,  according  to  Hering's  views,  the  mere  con- 
dition of  the  visual  substance  as  distinct  from  a  change  in 
that  condition  determines  the  changes  in  the  other  sub- 
stance which  is  the  basis  of  consciousness.  So  that,  if 
Hering's  conception  be  a  true  one  (and  the  arguments  in 
favour  of  it,  if  not  wholly  conclusive,  are  at  least  serious), 
we  are  led  to  entertain  the  -idea  that,  in  addition  to  the 
rouigh  propagation  of  explosive  decompositions,  there  are 
continually  passing  from  protoplasm  to  protoplasm  delicate 
touches  compared  with  which  the  nervous  impulses  which 
with  such  difficulty  the  galvanometer  makes  known  to  us 
are  gross  and  coarse  shocks.  And  it  is  at  least  possible, 
if  not  probable  (indeed  present  investigations  seem  rapidly 
tending  in  this  direction),  that  an  extension  of  Hering's 
view,  with  such  modifications  as  future  inquiry  may  render 
necessary,  to  other  processes  than  visual  sensations,  more 
especially  to  the  inner  working  of  the  central  nervous  sys- 
tem, may  not  only  carry  us  a  long  way  on  towards  under- 
standing inhibition  and  spontaneous  activity  but  may  lay 
the  foundation  of  a  new  molecular  physiology.  This,  how- 
ever, is  speculative  and  dangerous  ground.    But  it  seemed 


desirable  to  touch  upon  it  since  it  illustrates  a  possible 
or  probable  new  departxu'e.  What  we  have  said  of  it  and 
of  the  more  manageable  molecular  problems  of  physiology 
will  perhaps  show  that,  vast  and  intricate  as  is  the  maze 
before  the  physiologist  of  to-day,  he  has  in  his  hand  a  clue 
which  promises,  at  least,  to  lead  him  far  on  through  it. 

Space  forbids  our  entering  upon  a  discussion  concerning 
the  methods  of  physiology ;.  but,  accepting  the  truth  of 
the  preceding  discussion  as  to  the  nature  of  physiological 
problems,  the  means  of  solving  these  problems  speak  foi 
themselves. 

From  the  earliest  times  the  methods  of  physiological 
inquiry  have  belonged  to  one  of  two  categories  :  they  have 
been  anatomical  or  experimental.  And  the  same  distinc- 
tion holds  good  to-day,  though  both  methods  are  often 
joined  together  in  one  inquiry,  and  indeed  at  times  may 
be  said  to  merge  the  one  into  the  other.  By  the  anatom- 
ical method  the  observer  ascertains  the  gross  outlines,  the 
minute  structure,  and  if  necessary  the  physical  characters 
and  the  chemical  composition  of  an  organism  or  part  of  an 
organism  ;  and  by  comparison  of  these  with  those  of  differ- 
ent organisms,  or  of  the  same  organism  placed  by  nature 
- — that  is,  not  by  himseK — in  different  circumstances,  he 
draws  conclusions  as  to  the  actions  taking  place  in  it  while 
i±  was  alive.  In  early  times  the  comparison  of  gross  struc- 
tures gave  important  results,  but  they  have  now  been  to  a 
great  extent  exhausted  ;  and  the  most  valuable  conclusions 
reached  at  the  present  day  by  the  anatomical  method  are 
those  arrived  at  by  histological  investigation  of  minute 
structures  and  by  chemical  analysis.  The  marks  of  this 
method  are  that  on  the  one  hand  it  deals  for  the  most  part 
with  things  which  are  no  longer  alive,  and  hence  must 
necessarily  fail  to  make  touch  with  the  inner  workings  of 
which  we  have  spoken  above,  and  on  the  other  hand  in  its 
comparison  of  organisms  under  different  conditions  it  has 
to  wait  till  Providence  brings  about  what  it  requires,  and 
has  to  be  satisfied  with  such  differences  as  the  chapter  of 
accidents  provides.  In  the  experimental  method  the 
observer  places  the  organism  or  part  of  the  organism  under 
conditions  of  his  own  choosing,  and  applies  to  the  organism 
under  those  conditions  the  same  analysis  as  in  the  former 
methods.  He  ascertains  changes  in  the  gross  features, 
minute  structure,  physical  characters,  and  chemical  com- 
position, as  before.  So  that  in  reality  the  two  methods 
are  in  part  identical,  and  differ  chiefly  by  the  fact  that  in 
the  latter  the  observer  chooses  the  conditions  in  which  to 
place  the  organism.  But  an  important  corollary  follows, 
viz.,  that  by  choosing  his  own  conditions  the  observer  is 
able  to  bring  his  analysis  to  bear  on  an  organism  or  part 
of  an  organism  while  Still  alive. 

The  history  of  physiology,  especially  in  recent  times, 
shows  that  this  method  is  the  one  not  only  of  the  greatest 
fertility  but  one  becoming  more  and  more  essential  as 
inquiry  is  pushed  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  more  abstruse 
parts  of  physiology.  If  there  be  any  truth  in  the  sketch 
given  above  of  the  modern  tendencies  of  molecular  physio- 
logy, it  will  be  clear  to  every  mind  that  the  experimental 
method  alone  can  in  the  future  give  adequate  results.  It 
might  indeed  be  urged  that  when  molecular  physics  has 
advanced  far  enough  the  molecular  problems  of  physiology 
will  be  interpreted  by  its  light  without  recourse  to  experi- 
ment. It  will  be  a  long  waiting  till  that  comes.  Mean- 
while, all  the  power  over  not  only  the  body  but,  what  is 
more  important,  the  mind  of  man  which  the  physiology  of 
the  future  unmistakably  promises  must  lie  unused.  Nor 
is  it  simply  a  matter  of  waiting,  for  it  is  at  least  vrithin 
the  range  of  possibility  that  when  the  molecular  problems 
of  physiology  are  fairly  grasped  conclusions  may  be  reached 
which  will  throw  back  a  light  on  the  molecular  processes 
of  inanimate  masses,  revealing  features  of  what  we  call 


PHYSIOLOGY 


23 


ihie  of 

peri- 

ibUI 


"matter"  whicli  could  not  be  discovered  by  the  examina- 
tion of  bodies  which  had  never  lived. 

It  would  not  be  a  hard  task  to  give  chapter  and  verse 
for  the  assertion  that  the  experimental  method  has,  especi- 
ally in  these  later  times,  sujiplied  the  chief  means  of  progress 
in  physiology  ;  but  it  would  be  a  long  task,  and  we  may 
content  ourselves  with  calling  attention  to  what  is  in  many 
resj>ect3  a  typical  case.  AVe  referred  a  short  tiiue  back  to 
the  phenomena  of  "  inhibition."  It  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  the  discovery  of  the  inhibitory  function  of  certain 
nerves  marks  one  of  the  most  importa'.it  steps  in  the  pro- 
gress of  physiology  during  the  past  half-century.  The 
mere  attainment  of  the  fact  that  the  stimulation  of  a 
nerve  might  stop  action  instead  of  inducing  action  con- 
stituted in  itself  almost  a  revolution  ;  and  the  value  of  that 
fact  in  helping  us  on  the  one  hand  to  unravel  the  tangled 
puzzles  of  physiological  action  and  reaction,  and  on  the 
other  hand  to  push  our  inquiries  into  the  still  more  diffi- 
cult problems  of  molecular  changes,  has  proved  immense. 
One  cannot  at  the  present  time  take  up  a  physiological 
memoir  covering  any  large  extent  of  ground  without  find- 
ing some  use  made  of'  inhibitory  processes  for  the  purpose 
of  explaining  physiological  i^henomena. 

Now,  however  skilfully  we  may  read  older  statements 
between  the  lines,  no  scientific — that  is,  no  exacts— know- 
ledge of  inhibition  was  possessed  by  any  physiologist  until 
Weber,  by  a  direct  expcrimentjOn  a  living  animal,  dis- 
covered the  inhibitory  influence  of  the  pneumogastric 
nerve  over  the  beating  of  the  heart.  It  was  of  course 
previously  known  that  under  certain  circumstances  the 
beating  of  the  heart  might  be  .stopi)ed  ;  but  all  ideas  as  to 
bow  the  stoppage  was  or  might  be  brought  about  were 
vague  and  uncertain  before  Weber  made  his  experiment. 
That  experiment  gave  the  clue  to  an  exact  knowledge,  and 
it  is  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  see  how  the  clue  could 


have  been  gained  otherwise  than  by  experiment ;  other 
experiments  have  enabled  us  to  follow  up  the  clue,  so  that 
it  may  with  justice  be  said  that  all  that  part  of  the  recent 
progress  of  physiology  which  is  due  to  the  introduction  of 
a  knowledge  of  inhibitory  processes  is  the  direct  result  of 
the  experimental  method.  But  the  story  of  our  know- 
ledge of  inhibition  is  only  one  of  the  innumerable  instances 
of  the  value  of  this  method.  In  almost  every  department 
of  physiology  an  experiment  or  a  series  of  experiments 
has  proved  a  turning-point  at  which  vague  nebulous  fancies 
were  exchanged  for  clear  decided  knowledge,  or  a  starting- 
point  for  the  introduction  of  wholly  new  and  startling 
ideas.  And  we  may  venture  to  repeat  that  not  only  must 
the  experimental  method  be  continued,  but  the  progress  of 
physiology  will  chiefly  depend  on  the  increased  application 
of  that  method.  The  more  involved  and  abstruse  the 
problems  become,  the  more  necessary  does  it  also  become 
'hat  the  inquirer  should  be  able  to  choose  his  own  con- 
ditions for  the  observations  he  desires  to  make.  Happily,' 
the  experimental  method  itself  brings  with  it  in  the  course  of 
its  own  development  the  power  of  removing  the  only  valid 
objection  to  physiological  experiments,  viz.,  that  in  certain 
cases  they  iirvolve  pain  and  suffering."  For  in  nearly  all  ex- 
periments pain  and  suffering  are  disturbing  elements.  These 
disturbing  elements  the  present  imjjerfect  methods  are  often 
unable  to  overcome ;  but  their  removal  will  become  a  more 
and  more  pressing  necessity  in  the  interests  of  the  experi- 
ments themselves,  as  the  science  becomes  more  .exact  and 
exacting,  and  will  also  become  a  more  and  more  easy  tsisk 
as  the  progress  of  the  science  makes  the  investigator  more 
and  more  master  of  the'  organism.  In  the  physiology  of 
the  future  pain  and  suffering  will  be  admissible  in  an  ex- 
periment only  w-hen  pain  and  suffering  are  themselves  the 
object  of  inquiry.  And  such  an  inquiry  will  of  necessity 
take  a  subjective  rather  than  an  objective  form.     (m.  r.) 


PAET  II.— NERVOUS  SYSTEM 


To  sopplement  the  foregoing  general  sketch  some  detailed  account 
must  he  given  of  the  pliysiologj'  of  the  several  functions.  Nl'tuitio.n 
(q.v.)  ha.s  received  separate  treatnvcnt ;  a  sketch  of  the  "Nervous 
System  "  is  now  appended  ;  and  Respir/tion  and  Reproddction 
will  be  dealt  witli  in  their  places. 

However  complex  may  be  the  anatomical  arrangements  in  man 
«nd  the  higher  animals,  the  nervous  system  consists  essentially  of 
three  portions  :  (1)  central  masses  of  nervous  matter,  or  ganglia, 
constituting  the  brain  and  spinal  cord,  and  containing  invariably 
nerve-ccUs  ;  (2)  peripheral  or  Unnitial  arrangements,  existing  in 
the  organs  of  sense,  in  muscle,  and  in  electric  organs  ;  and  (3)  nerves, 
or  internuncial  cords  connecting  the  central  with  the  peripheral 
organs.  The  nerves  may  be  regarded  as  conductors  of  a  mode  of 
energy  which,  for  want  of  a  better  term,  is  termed  "nerve-force," 
originating  either  in  the  nerves  themselves  on  the  ajijilicjition  of  a 
stimulus  or  in  the  terminal  organs  or  in  the  central  organs.  Thus, 
if  a  nerve  be  irritateil  at  any  point  of  its  course,  a  change  is  sot 
up  in  the  nerve-fibres  at  the  point  of  irritation,  and  tliis  cliange  is 
.  propagated  along  the  nerve-fibres  to  a  central  or  terminal  organ,  thus 
producing  n  characteristic  phenomenon, — it  may  Ixs  a  scn.sation  of 
pain  or  of  pleasure,  an  involuntary  movement,  the  contraction  of  a 
muscle,  or  a  discharge  of  electricity.  Again,  the  stimulus  may  act 
on  a  terminal  organ,  such  na  the  retina,  setting  up  a  change  which  is 
then  propagated  or  conveyed  to  the  brain  by  the  optic  nerve,  there 
giving  rise  to  a  sensation  of  light  or  colour.  Finally,  the  nervous 
action  may  originate  in  a  central  organ,  as  is  the  case  when  a  vol- 
Mntar)'  movement  is  made.  The  voluntaiy  impulse,  in  this  instance, 
ori^nates  in  the  brain  ;  a  cliange  passes  along  nervo-fibres  from  the 
brain  to  the  muscles,  and  as  a  result  the  muscles  contract  Wo 
have  therefore  to  discuss  the  general  properties  and  modes  of  action 
of  nerves,  tenni'prd  organs,  and  central  orgpns. 

1. — Nerves. 
Stnieture  of  Nerves. — A  general  description  of  the  structnro  of 
nerves  and  of  nerve-fibres  «-ill  bo  found  in  vol.  i.  p.  859  sq.; 
but  there  are  a  few  points  of  physiological  importance  still  to  be 
noticed.  Two  kinds  of  nerve-fibres  exist  in  the  body,  white  or 
mednllated  fibres,  so  called  because  each  fibre  has  a  sheath  indi- 
cated by  a  double  contour  (seo  fig.  1),  and  the  pale  or  non-medul- 
Uted,     The  mcduUated  nerve -hbrcs  form  the  white  part  of  the 


brain,  spinal  cord,  and  nerves.  They  vary  in  diameter  from  the 
TtSnth  to  the  Tromith  of  an  inch,  and  when  of  very  small  size  often 
show  varicosities  or  swellings.     Each  fibre  consists  of  thr>;e  parts  : 

(1)  an  external  sheath,  or  primitive  sheath  ;  Br:^ "  ■ 

(2)  within  this  the  medullary  sheath  or  «[•  ,;,H| 
white  substance  of  Schwann;  and  (3)in  the  •  ''^ 
centre  an  axial  fibre,  the  cylinder  axis  of 
Purl<inje,  or  band  of  Remak.  The  axis- 
cylinder  in  a  fresh  nerve  seems  to  be 
homogeneous  ;  but  with  high  powers  and 
proper  illumination,  and  more  especially 


Fig.  1.  Fig.  2. 

Fio.  1.— 0)  MeautiaUd  norvo-flbrpa,  showlnff  double  contour;  (2)  a  Rfinilor 
libra  In  whicli  A  in  primitive  me  in  bran  u,  H  inodullar)'  fhcatb,  C  iiiia]  cylin- 
der protrudinp:  l»t'>nnd  tlic  brokfii  end  of  the  flbro  ;  (?•)  lransvrr>ip  scrtion 
thrnuRli  inediiilnU'*!  flliroB  of  a  nerve  plinwinR  axial  cylinder  in  each  Ubrc. 
Between  ttio  fibros  is  tho  Int^rllbroiis  coiuiPcti\e  tlnnno. 
Fig.  3. — Mcdullat*"!  nerv*>- llbivH.     A,  nipdiillato"!  nerve -flbro,  ahon-inn  (tub- 
division  of  inoduUary  Hhcnt.ti  into  rylliulriral  srrti.ind  Inihricatcl  witli  thoir 
ends  ;  a  nrrve-corpiidclp  witli  nii  oval  nurleiiji  is  nren  Ivtwrpn  nciinleinina 
and  moduIUry  «haath  ;  n,  mc<lnllated  nprve -flbre  at  a  noclo  or  coniitrictliin 
of  Rnnvier  ;  tiie  axiH-cylimlor  iiaHHPs  unint4<rTupt4td1y  f>-om  one  w»)jnient  into 
tbo  otlicr,  but  the  modultary  ahcath  is  interrupted.    (Key  and  RctzfuB.) 
by  tho  ftction  of  porosmio  scitl,  it  is  scon  to  bo  formed  of  extromoJy 
fine  fibrill.r.      It  is  continuous   from  end  to   end  of  the  nervo. 
Tho   mcluUary   sheath   shows  at   certain   intorvals   interniptions 
called  the  "nodes  of  Ranvior"  (soo  fiff.  2).      In  tho  midJlo  of  each 
iuternodo  an  oval  nucleus  is  found  in  the  medullary  shealh.     The 
palo  or  u on -moduUatod  fibres,   somctimoa  called  the  "fibn^  of 


24 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[neevous 


Bzclta- 


Btitution  ot  tne  nerve  uuic.  j         axis-rod  appears  to 

substances  such  as  lecithin  '.^u'iso^'^^t)-  JJ'^J^^  O  +  H  0^  and 
^nr^t^n  albuminous  substances.  Cholestenn  (CjsH^U  +  "a"-')  ^nu 
^»Hn  f  C  H  N  0,)  have  been  obtained  from  nerves  along  ^nth  a 

1  nerve  ^ecomes  acid  after  death  (Funke).  ,,,,,,,. 

AS  to  the  micro-ehenustry  of  the  nenror.  ew^^^^^^ 

.ris-cylinder  contains  an  ?  Summons '^^„T(anSnt^^^  of  mercury)  ;  it 
a  red  colour  on  boiling  with  M'l*?°l,"?|f°'' ^^Uo  potash,  and  chloride  ot 
U  dissolved,  in  weak  BolaboMj^rammonm,^^^^^  ^^    ^^^^^^ 

sodium;  it  is  hardened  by  solubons  of  chromic^^a^^  ^  ^^^  .^  ^^^^^^ 

and  corrosive  sublimate  ,  it  reduces  tne  cni  b,^  substance 

transverse  markings  on  the  a":''""  .f  °**^.°i'  !'ol"b  e  in  ^cohol,  ether,  and 
of  Schwann  is  blackened  by  P?rosm.o  f"d/J^aracte?'ihe  primitive  sheath 

S\isl^K^'S?a?f™9|:3S^£&'a^,S^ 

^Xl*SfenhaTf!,u1;rJfr  KTsL°n^  of^SSr  o^r  epidermic  tissues,  and 

hence  caUed  "neurokeratin. '  ....  j 

J^ov-toS^i^v -The  special  property  of  a  nerve -fibre  is- termed 

«  eSbili^/'  Every^ind  o?  living  P-t"?  tlZlu"  ThJiVT?  I 
•able  —that  is,  it  responds  in  some  way  to  a  stimulus,  ttiis,  ii  a 
ffiOTsel  of  protoplasm,  such  as  an  amceba  or  a  cartilage-cell  or  a 
white  WooS  corpuscle  be  stimulated  mechanically  or  by  shocks  of 
Tie  t?icity!  it  will  contract  or  change  its  form.  Again,  if  livuig 
m^scuJar  fibre  be  thus  stimulated  it  also  wiU  contract  This  p.o- 
Trt^  of  respoXg  to  a  stimulus  is  tenned '^iTitabil^^^ 

rppropriale  central  or  terminal  organ  we  may  have  evidence  of 
Eomethin<r  having  been  transmitted  along  the  nerve.  1  bus  there 
mrvbe  se°Dsation  or  movement,  or  both.  Nerves  are  more  irritable 
S  contractile  matter;  and  the  term  "excitabUity  "  is  applied  to  the 
special  i^rUaUi^  of  nerve.  The  same  strength  of  stimulus  will 
Srmore  powerfully  on  a  nerve  than  on  a  muscle  (Rosenthal).  The 
^e  Tthe  term  "  property  "  in  physiology  does  not  imply  the  idea  of 
Mv  kind  ofTherent^force  or  entity,  but  simply  that  m  the  case  of 
muscle  and  nerve,  irritation  is  followed  by  certain  phenomena  seen 

°"|{  f  T^e  elcSty  of  nerves  is  affected  by  certain  conditions 
In  urv  to  the  nerve,  the  application  of  caustics,  and  drying  quickly 
Kvit     When  anerve^s  divided  the  excitability  is  increased 
fo?  a  Ihort  time,  then  rapidly  diminishes,  and  final  y  disappears 
l,»,r  th7™int  of  section.     The  end  of  the  nerve  stiU  connected 
^thcenSTorgln   undergoes  these  changes  in  excitabUity  more 
riickly  than  th!  portion  cut  off.    As  shown  by  Augustus  Waller 
when  I  nerve  is  separated  from  its  central  organ,  such  as  the  grey 
matter  of  the  spinal  cord  for  the  motor  roots,  and  the  ganglia  on 
The  posterior  roots  for-the  sensory  roots,  the  end  of  the  nerve  sepa- 
raterfrom  the  centre  undergoes  fatty  degeneration.     If,  however 
the  cut  ends  of  the  nerve  be  brought  into  accurate  contact,  union 
soon  takes  place.     Surgeons  have  frequently  observea  a  return  of 
sensibmtv- to  a  part  within  a  few  days  after  the  sensory  i^erve  had 
S Sed  and  the  cut  ends  again  brought  into  contact.     Con- 
tinuedTr  excessive  activity  of  a  nerve  soon  lowers^and  may  abolish 
exc"tebmty,  thus  producing  exhaustion.     On  .the  other  hand  a 
Whened  period  of  absolute  repose  lowers  excitabihty,.and  ^  the 
neTe  be  inactive  beyond  a  certain  time  it  wastes,  becomes,  thmner, 
Td  fatty  degeneration  occur,  in  its  substance.     Heat  increases 
wWlst  cold  diminishes,  excitability.     In  the  case  of  frogs  nerves 
remperatures  above  45"  C.  destroy  exc  tabili  y  the  J^ore  rapidly  as 
they  approach  70°,  at  which  point  it  is  almost  instantaneously 
destroyed.      Below  45-  a  rise  of  temperature  first  in"^a  es  and 
?hn  diminishes  excitability,  and  it  has  been  observed    bat  whUst 
increasing   its   intensity   it   diminishes   its   dyation  .(Afanasiea 
He^ann).     Finally,  a  diminished  supply  of  blood  qmckly  causes 

a  fall  of  excitability.  .         ,  .   j       r  „n„,,ii .    f„\ 

(2  )  Nerves  may  be  excited  by  various  kinds  of  stimuli :  (a) 
mechanicallv,  as  by  intermittent  pressure,  beating,  section,  pnck- 
^r&c  ;  W  hermJlly.  by  variatioi  of  temp.erature  ;  (c)  chemically 
by  the  application  of  snch  substances  as  acids,  alkalis,  or  metallic 


salts  •  ((f)  electrically,  by  continuous  or  induced  cun-ents ;  and 
M  n'omally,  by  changes  in  the  central  or  .terminal  organs 
Mechanical  irritation  is°  applied  during  life  when  the  tnmk  of  a 
nerve  is  pressed  upon.  Radiant  heat  ac  s  on  the  perves  of  the 
skin,  or  heat  may  be  applied  by  conduction  from  a  hot  body  m 
contlct  with  the  surface':;  Little  is  known  as  to  the  specific  ffecU 
of  heat  on  the  nerves  of  the  human  being.  In  the  frog  it  has 
been  found  that  a  temperature  of  from  34°  to  45°  C.  stmiulates  the 
motor  nerves;  about  40°  C.  sudden  alterations  of  temperature  may 
cause  t%vitching  of  the  connected  muscles  (Hemann)  Many 
chemical  substances  in  sufiicient  concentration  will  quickly  destroy 
a  nSveT  but  if  they  are  in  weak  solutions  the  result  may  be  stimu- 
ladon  Thus,  concentrated  solutions  of  the  mineral  acids,  alkalis, 
alkaline  salts,  concentrated  lactic  acid,  and  concentrated  glycerin 
may  act  as  strong  stimulants  (Kuhne).  3„„o„j„ 

(3  )  The  influtnce  of  electrical  stimulation  of  nerves  demands 
more  elabon^te  description.  The  effects,  as  f^^y  indicated  can 
be  observed  only  when  the  nerve  is  connected  with  a  muscle  or 
with  a  centr^r  organ.  In  the  first  case  electrical  stimulation  is 
FoUowed  by  contra°ction  of  the  muscle,  in  the  second  by  a  sensa  ion 
if  the  central  organ  is  the  Drain.  Consequently  we  have  to  consider 
the  phenomena" following  electrical  stimulatiPn  (a),  of  a  motor 

"^[^r^t^r'ic:'  «:3r:/  .  ^W  mr.c.-A  perfectly  con-  El.ec- 
/.^  f  .'^ir.nt  r.f  Plprtricitv    of  moderate  quantity  and  intensity,  tncal 

^th  wWch  the  variatfon  in  the  density  of  the  current  is  effected 
aUo  his  an  important  influence.  Thus  the  shocks  of  fiictional 
e  ctricfty  St  Sulate  strongly,  because,  although  the  amount,  of 
eectricty  is  small,  the  currents  are  extremely  rapid  in  appeanng 
andSpS.  In  like  manner  the  quick  shocks  from  induction- 
^oUs'^pfoE  b'y  rapidly  opening  and  ^'osing  the  pnmary^circmt 
are  stron-'ly  stimulating.  Again,  a  very  powerful  current  may 
pass  throtwh  a  nerve  withou°t  exciting  it,  if  it  pass  gradually 
Occas  ona  ly  a  very  weak  current  sent  through  a  portion  of  nerve 
will  cause  a  contraction,  whUst  a  very  strong  current  may  fail  to 
d^  so  In -fact,  the  phenomenon  of  contraction  ot  a  muscle  is 
fnfluenced  (a)  by  the^direction  «nd  (^)  by  the  strength  of  the 
current  sen    through  the  nerve.     When  the  current  is  transmitted 

Contraction.  Contraction. 

Best.  K^t- 

Strong  contraction. 
Strong  contraction. 
Best.  ^      ^ 

Stron".  »Jpen.       Very  strong  contraction.  . 

and  generally  accepted  by  physiologists.  ^   .    ,  ,  ,  ,,„^,, 

suppose  thaf  the  sciatic  nerve  ^^  a  f^g  connected  w^^te  .so  a^d^ 

stretched  over  two  wires  P^'^'"?  f™"  *5?  ?,°=ee  of  an  fnih  and  a  half  between 

bination  of  Grove's  elements  with  t^e  distence  oi  an  in  ^^^^ 

the  wires.     If  a  key  >K,'"'erposed  in  the  circuit  a  cmr  ^^  ^^^^^  ^^ 

Tyts-^op^e^et'-^/ha-.^f-^S^^^ 

induction-machine,  either  near  the  ne^tne  or  ^f^r  the  V^^      J  ,^^t  „^ 
r;eU°vt1orthe\\^cStVimfnerjns"inrsed.  whilst  near  Ui, 


Current  Strength.  Key. 

■Weak.  Close. 

Weak.  Open. 

Medium.  Close. 

Medium.  Open- 

Strong.  Close. 

Strong.  Open. 


nesu 

Strong  contrtCtioD, 

Strong  contraction. 

Best. 

Contraction. 


SYSTEM.] 


PHYSIOLOGY 


25 


positive  pole  it  Is  diminished,— that  is  to  say,  a  stimulus  from  tlie  luductlon-coil, 
not  sufficient  to  excite  the  nerve  so  much  as  to  cause  a  muscular  contraction  if 
applied  near  the  positive  pole,  will  at  once  do  so  if  applied  near  the  negative 
pole  ;  or,  a  stimulus  so  strong  as  to  cause  tetanus  in  the  muscle  when  applied 
near  the  negative  pole  may  produce  no  etTect  when  applied  near  the  positive 
pole.  In  other  words,  the  nerve  near  the  negative  pole  is  more  excitable  than 
in  the  nonnal  state,  whilst  near  the  positive  pole  it  is  less  so,  indicating  that 
&t  least  one  of  the  physiological  properties  of  the  nerve  has  been  changed  by 
the  action  of  the  continuous  cuntnt.  But  a  nerve-fibre  has  also  the  property 
of  conducting  the  effects  of  an  impression,  or  the  nt-rve-force  travels  with  a 
certain  velocity  along  a  nerve,  as  will  be  shown  lower  down.  It  has  been  ascer- 
tained that  near  the  negative  pole  the  rate  of  conductivity  is  increased,  whilst 
near  the  positive  pule  it  is  diminished.  Finally,  a  piece  uf  living  nerve,  when 
connected  with  the  terminals  of  a  galvanometer,  so  that  the  one  terminal 
touches  the  surface  whilst  tho  other  touches  the  transverse  section  of  the  ner\'e, 
shows  the  existence  of  a  current  of  electricity  travelling  from  the  surface  of 
the  nerve  through  the  galvanometer  to  the  transverse  section, — that  is,  the 
surface  is  positive  to  the  'transverse  section.  This  condition  is  also  modified 
by  the  transmission  through  the  nerve  of  a  continuous  current,  so  that  the 
difference  of  potential  is  increased  near  the  positive  pole  and  diminished  near 
the  negative.    These  results  are  thus  summed  up. 


State  of  Nerve. 

Functions  of  Nerve. 

Near  positive  pole 
"  Near  negative  pole 

Electromotive  force. 
Increased 
Dimiuislied 

Conductivity. 
Diminished 
Increased 

Excitahilitxj. 
Diminished 
Increased 

1  The  properties  of  the  nerve,  therefore,  are  altered  by  the  passage  through  it 
of  a  continuous  current,  and  the  altered  condition  is  termed  the  "electrotonic 
state,"  the  condition  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  positive  pole,  or  anode,  being 
tenned  "anelectrotonic,"  whilst  that  near  the  negative  pole  or  katode  is  called 
"kat«lectrotouic."  A  certain  portion  of  nerve  near  each  pole  is  throwTi  during  the 
passage  of  ■&  continuous  current  into  these  conditions  of  anelectrotonus  and  of 
Katelectrotonus,  whilst  the  amount  of  nerve  thrown  into  the  one  condition  or 
the  other  depends  on  the  strength  of  the  current.  Further,  there  is  always  be- 
tween the  two  poles  a  point  of  indifference,  in  which  the  properties  of  the  nerve 
seem  to  be  unaltered,  and  the  position  of  this  point  depends  on  the  strength 
of  the  current.  Thus,  with  a  current  of  medium  strength  the  point  is  midway 
between  the  poles  \  with  a  weak  current  the  point  is  near  the  positive  pole, — 
that  is,  a  large  poition  of  the  nerve  near  the  negative  pole  is  in  the  katelectro- 
t«nic  state  in  which  the  excitability  is  increased  ;  and  with  a  strong  current 
the  point  is  near  the  negative  pole, — that  is,  a  large  portion  of  the  nerve  near 
the  positive  pole  is  in  the  anelectrotonic  state  in  which  the  excitability  is 
diminished.  Now,  according  to  Plliiger,  the  stimulating  effect  of  closing  the 
current  occurs  at  the  katode  only,  whilst  the  stimulating  effect  of  opening  Uie 
current  occurs  at  the  anode  only,  or  a  nerve  is  stimulated  by  a  current  on  the 
appearance  or  increase  of  katclectrotonus,  on  closing  the  circuit,  or  by  the 
disappearance  or  diminution  -of  anelectrotonus  on  opening  the  circuit.  If  wo 
suppose  that  this  depends  on  the  modification  of  excitability  near  the  negative 
pole,  by  the  molecules  of  the  nerve  becoming  more  mobile,  the  matter  is  in- 
telligible.  Thus  the  passage  of  the  molecules  from  the  normal  stable  con- 
dition to  the  katelectrotonic  less  stable  condition  acts  as  a  stimulus,  whilst 
the  passage  backwards  has  no  effect.  On  the  other  hand,  the  passage  from  the 
more  stable  condition  in  anelectrotonus  to  the  nonnal  stable  condition  acts  as 
a  stimulus,  whilst,  again,  the  reverse  action  has  no  effect.  This  explains  why 
it  is  that  a  weak  current  gives  contraction  on  closing,  because  on  closing  a 
large  portion  of  the  nen'e  near  the  negative  pole  passes  from  the  nonnal  into 
the  katelectrotonic  state,  and  this  acts  as  a  stimulus.  On  the  other  hand,  a 
strong  current  causes  contraction  on  opening,  because  on  opening  a  large  por- 
tion of  nerve  near  the  positive  pole  passes  back  from  the  anelectrotonic  state 
Into  the  normal  state,  and  this  acts  aa  a  stimulus.  Again,  with  currenta  of 
medium  strength',  as  both  states  are  equally  produced,  there  is  contraction 
both  on  opening  and  on  closing.  Thus  Pfluger's  theory  accounts  for  most  of 
the  facts ;  but  its  v/eak  point  is  that  no  reason  can  be  given  why  a  nerve  is 
stimulated  only  by  the  appearance  of  katelectrotonus  and  by  the  disappearance 
of  anelectrotonus.  It  remain.s  only  to  add  that  currents  passing  transversely 
through  nerves  produce  no  stimulating  effect.  In  ascending  currents  the 
shorter  the  piece  of  nerve  between  the  elcctrofiea  the  greater  the  stimulating 
etfect,  whereas  in  descending  currents  the  reverse  holds  good  (Ilemiann). 

{b.)  Electrical  Stimulation  o/Scnsonj  Acrvcs. — The  effect  of  stim- 
ulating sensory  nerves  as  distinguished  from  the  direct  stimulation 
'[""  of  sensory  or  terminal  orf;ans  has  not  been  sufficiently  studied,  but, 
ry  80  far  as  is  known,  the  laws  seem  to  be  the  same  as  those  relating 
IS.  to  motor  nerves.  When  a  sensory  nerve  is  stimuhited  the  test  must 
be  the  resulting  sensation.  As  stimulation  of  the  motor  nerve  in  the 
condition  of  anelectrotonus  or  of  katelectrotonus  may  or  may  not  bo 
followed  by  a' contraction,  so  stimulation  of  the  sensory  nerve  may 
or  may  not  bo  followed  by  a  sensation,  or  the  character  of  the  sensa- 
tion may  vary  just  as  the  muscular  contraction  may  be  weak  or 
strong.  Further,  Donders  has  shown  that  electrical  stimulation  of 
the  vagi  or  pnenmogastrio  nerves  is  attended  by  analogous  pheno- 
mena, so  far  as  the  movements  of  the  heart  are  concerned.  In  this 
.la.so,  however,  as  will  be  shown  lower  down  in  discussing  the  pheno- 
mena of  nervous  inhibition,  the  result  is  not  movement  but  arrest 
of  movement. 

(c.)  Chnuveau's  Bcscarclics  an  Unipolar  Excitation. — Chauveau  has 
studied  the  comparative  influence  of  the  two  poles  of  any  arrnnge- 
ipent  supplying  a  continuous  current,— ^that  is,  ho  has  tried  the 
stimulating  etfect,  supposing  either  the  positive  or  tlie  negative 
polo  be  applied  to  the  nerve  whilst  the  other  is  in  contact  with 
another  part  of  the  body.  Ho  has  found,  amongst  other  more 
abstruse  and  less  practical  results,  that  there  is  in  each  ca.so  a 
certain  intensity  of  current  corresponding  to  the  physiological  con- 
dition of  the  nerve  by  which  the  influence  of  ono  polo  is  tlie  same 
as  that  of  the  oilier.  If  the  intensity  of  the  current  be  below  this 
medium  strength  tlie  cITcct  of  the  negative  pole  on  motor  nerves  is 
greater  tlian  tliat  of  tlio  positive  ;  but,  if  the  intensity  be  above,  the 
reverse  is  the  case, — that  is,  the  positive  pole  is  the  stronger  excitant. 
In  the  case  of  sensory  nerves  Chauveau  found  that  application  of 
tlie  nr-gative  pole  with  a  moderately  strong  current  was  rnore  painful 
tnan  application  of  the  positive  polo.    Thus  the  influence  of  unipolar 


excitation  -with  a  strong  current  on  motor  ner\-es  is  the  reverse  of 
that  on  sensoiy  nerves,  —  that  is,  the  positive  pole  is  the  more 
powerful  on  motor  nerves,  the  negative  pole  on  sensoiy  nerves. 

(rf.)  Production  of  Tc^ainw. ^Tetanus  or  cramp  of  a  muscle  is  I'roduc- 
produced  when  its  nerve  is  stimulated  by  successive  initations 'Ion  of 
at  intervals  so  short  that  the  muscle  has  no  time  to  relax  between  t*'*""*- 
them,  and  consequently  it  passes  into  a  state  of  more  or  less  firm 
contraction.  A  single  muscular  contraction  may  be  called  a  twitch 
of  the  muscle,  but  in  tetanus  or  cramp  the  individual  contractions 
are  fused  together  so  as  to  maintain  a  rigid  state  of  the  muscle 
for  some  time.  A  rapid  series  of  induction  shocks,  each  of  short 
duration,  always  produces  tetanus,  even  if.  they  are  sent  to  the 
muscle  at  the  rate  of  15  per  second.  A  continuous  current,  on  the 
other  hand,  usually  causes  contraction  only  at  the  moment  of  open- 
ing and  closing  the  circuit,  but  occasionally  tetanus  may  be  seen 
during  the  passage  of  the  current.  Tetanus  during  the  passage  of  a 
constant  current  has  been  attributed  to  electrolytic  changes  in  the 
nerve.  Pfliiger  holds  that'  this  is  a  normal  production  of  tetanus 
anj  may  be  seen  even  with  feeble  currents  ;  but  certainly  it  is  very 
difficult  to  demonstrate.  Long  ago  Ritter  showed  that,  if  a  constant 
current  of  sufficient  intensity  b.e  sent  up  a  nerve  for  a  considerable 
time,  say  half^an  hour,  and  then  be  suddenly  interrupted,  tetanus 
lasting  for  eight  or  ten  seconds  may  be  seen,  which  disappears  on 
again  closing  the  current.  Ritter's  tetanus,  according  to  Pfliiger, 
is  really  due  to  the  stimulation  caused  by  the  disappearance  of  an. 
electrotonus,  which  occurs,  as  'we  have  seen,  when  the  current  is 
opened,  and  the  proof  he  offers  is  that  the  tetanus  disappears  when 
the  muscle  is  cut  off  from  the  anelectrotonic  poition.  Tetanus 
may  also  be  caused  by  the  mechanical  irritation  of  the  nerve,  or 
by  heat,  or  by  chemical  substances, 

A^crvous  Conductivity. — When  a  nerve  is  irritated  at  any  point  ugryouj 
in  its  course  a  change  is  produced  which  is  propagated  along  tliocondu*- 
nerve, — that  is,  the  nerve  conducts,  and  the  phenomenon  is  called  ti^l'T- 
the  "nerve-current."  The  velocity  of  transmission  cau  be  measured 
only  by  the  use  of  delicate  apparatus,  as  the  time  occupied  is  too 
short  to  directly  affect  consciousness.  For  example,  when  the  tip 
of  the  finger  is  touched  the  mind  apparently  perceives  the  contact 
without  any  loss  of  time.  But  it  can  be  shown  that  an  appreciable 
interval  of  time  elapses  between  the  iilstant  the  finger  is  touclied 
and  tlie  instant  the  mind  perceives  the  impression.  During  this 
time  a  change  passes  along  the  nerve  from  the  point  touched  to  the 
brain.  The  method  usually  employed  for  determining  the  velocity 
of  the  nerve-current  consist*  in  preparing  the  gastrocnemius  muscle 
of  a  frog  with  the  sciatic  nerve  attached,  and  connecting  it  with  a 
recording  apparatus,  so  that  if  the  muscle  be  caused  to  contract  by 
irritating  the  nerve  the  record  of  the  contraction  may  be  made  on 
a  rapidly-moving  surface.  If,  then,  the  nerve  be  irritated  in  two 
consecutive  experiments,  first  close  to  the  muscle,  and  secondly  at 
a  distance  from  it,  and  the  muscle  be  caused  to  contract  in  each  case, 
it  will  be  found  that  it  does  not  contract  so  soon  when  the  nerve  is 
irritated  at  a  distance  fiom  the  muscle  as  when  it  is  irritated  close 
to  it ;  in  other  words,  if  the  nerve  be  irritated  at  a  distance  from 
the  mtLscIe  the  transmission  of  the  i  i  Mcpwr 

nervous  impression  from  the  point  '  ■' 

irritated  to  the  muscle  occupies  an 
appreciable  time.  If,  then,  we  know 
the  length  of  nerve  between  the  two 
points  irritatedj  we  can  determine 
thelengfhof  time  the  nerve-current 
took  in  passing  along  that  distance 
of  nerve. 

(1.)  Mcasurtment  of  Velocity  in  Motor 
Nerva.—  Many  ingenious  methods  have 
been  devised  for  this  purpose,  but  tin-  • 
simi)lest  is  the  use  of  the  "spring  niyo. 
graphion  "  of  Du  Bois-Rejinond  (see  flg.":i). 
Tlie  apparatus  consists  of  a  smoked-glass 
plate,  which  is  driven  in  front  of  thti  re-  > 
coi-ding  stylet  of  the  myograph  by  the 
recoil  of  a  steel  ppring  C.  Undonioath 
the  frainccarrying  the  glass  plate  are  two 
binding  screws  1  and  2,  to  one  of  which 
is  atUiched  a  rectangular  arm  of  brass 
1,  which  can  so  move  horizontally  as  to 
establish  melAllIc  coniiexitm  between  the 
two  binding  screwa  (marked  lirrak,  V). 
By  means  of  these  bimling  screws  the 
myograph  is  interposed  in  tlio  circuit  c»f  . 
a  galvanic  clement  and  the  primary  coil 
I  of  an  induction-machfne,  and  tlio  brass 
arm  is  so  jdaced  as  to  connect  both  bind- 
ing screws,  thus  completing  the  circuit. 

From  nnclenieath  the  frame  carrying  the  f\  r\  r\  f\  r\  r\  r\  r\'- r\  C 
smoked-glass  plot«  there  descrn.ls  a  small  Din^nVru  ^r^  .h^oV;,- Yi,i;„,V, 
flange,  which  (when  the  glass  plalo,  by  RAPIDITY  OF  NERVE  CURRENT 
relwing  a  catch  not  seen  In  the  (Igure,  yw.  a.-Piagrnm  showing  omingo 
but  close  to  O,  Is  dr.ven  across  by  the  ,„^„t  „f  „p,M,ratu«  in  meaauring 
spiral  aprlng  from  left  lo  right)  pushes  rapidity  of  ucrvecurreut. 
the  brass  arm  aside  and  thus  inyrruplii 

the  circuit  of  the  I'riniary  coll.  Whin  this  occiini  an  opening  shock  Ig  tnm. 
mitted  from  the  secondary  coil  II  to  a  commutator  B,  an  Instrument  by 
which  elcclric  currents  may  bo  tntnsmiltcl  to  tho  nor\-o  cither  at  a  point 
close  lo  the  ninsrle  at  A.  or  at  a  distance  from  It  at  I).  Suppose  tho  a(>> 
paiatus  all  arranged  so  as  to  UD<1  tlio  ahock  to  the  nene  at  a  t'lnt  doM 

XI\    — 


200VIB.PER  SEC 


26 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[nervous 


to  the  muscle  A,  the  muscle  stimulated  contracts,  and  draws  by  means  of 
the  stylet,  on  the  smoked  surface  of  the  glass,  the  curve  seen  in  the  lower 
part  of  it  at  A.  This  leaves  the  horizontal  line  (which  would  be  drawn  by 
the  stylet  were  the  muscle  at  rest)  at  A.  AiTangements  are  then  made  for 
anotlier  experiment,  in  which  the  ner\-e  will  be  stimulated  at  a  distance  from 
the  muscle,  at  the  point  B  in  the  upper  part  of  the  diagram.  This  is  done 
iy  again  placing  the  smoked-glass  plate  in  proper  position,  closing  the  primary 
Circuit  by  the  brass  arm  at  the  binding  screws,  as  already  described,  and  re- 
versing tlie  commutator  so  as  to  send  the  shock  along  the  wires  to  B.  The 
muscle  again  contracts  wlien  the  primary  circuit  is  opened,  an<l  this  time  it 
describes  on  the  smolred  surface  the  curve  B,  seen  to  the  left  of  the  curve  A. 
It  will  be  perceived  that  this  curve  leaves  the  horizontal  line  at  B, — that  is,  a 
little  later  than  when  the  ner\-e  was  stimulated  close  to  the  muscle.  It  follows, 
therefore,  that  the  distance  on  the  horizontal  line  from  A  to  B  represents  the 
time  occupied  by  the  transii>is3ion  of  the  nen-ous  impulse  from  B  to  A  of  the 
nerve.  With  suitable  arrangements,  t^ie  rate  of  movement  of  tlie  glass  plate  can 
be  measured  by  bringing  into  contact  with  it  a  marker  on  one  of  the  prongs  of 
a  vibrating  tuning-fork.  The  waves  thus  recorded  enable  the  experimenter  to 
measure  with  accuracy  the  rate  cf  movement  of  the  glass  plate,  and  conse- 
quently the  minute  interval  of  time  between  A  and  B.  In  the  diagram  it  will 
be  observed  that  tliere  are  2J  waves  between  A  and  B  ;  each  represents  ^^^th 
of  a  second ;  therefore  the  s^ith  of  a  becond  is  the  time  represented  by  the 
distance  A,  B :  or,  in  other  words,  the  j^th  of  a  second  was  occupied  by  the 
nerve-current  in  passing  along  the  portion  of  nerve  from  B  to  A. 

(2.)  Measureme}it  of  Velocity  in  Sensory  Nerves. — Suppose  a  sensory  nen-e  to  be 
excited  in  the  hand  ;  the  theory  of  nervous  conduction  is  that  a  change  is  pro- 
pagated along  the  nerve  to  the  brain,  and  that  in  the  brain  the  molecular 
changes  occur  which  result  in  a  sensation.  Tlie  »ndi\'idual  having  the  sensa- 
tion may  feel  jt  and  make  no  siga  by  which  any  ou^  else  might  be  made  aware 
that  he  has  felt  it,  or  the  subject  of  the  sensation  mls;ht,  by  a  muscular  move- 
ment, such  as  the  motion  of  an  arm,  let  any  one  else  see  that  he  has  felt  the 
sensation.  We  have  no  means  of  knowing  whether  or  not  an  individual  has 
felt  a  sensation  except  by  the  individnal  making  somr»  kind  of  gesture  or 
muscular  movement.  Now  it  is  clear  that,  if  we  regard  the  brain  as  the  seat 
of  the  changes  resulting  in  sensation,  the  nearer  any  stiuMdatcd  portion  of 
skin  is  to  the  brain  the  sooner  will  the  brain  feel  and  respond  to  the  stimulus. 
Thus,  if  the  skin  on  the  big  toe  of  the  right  foot  be  stimulated,  Mie  effect  of  tlie 
stimulus  passes  to  the  brain  and  tliere  calls  forth  a  sensati'.n,  but  if  the 
stimulus  be  applied  to  the  skin  at  the  top  of  the  thigh  it  is  e%idcnl  the  eflect 
has  to  pass  along  a  shorter  length  of  nerve  and  that  the  sensation  m  the  brain 
will  be  aroused  sooner.  If  we  suppose  that  in  each  case  the  individv^al  who  ia 
the  subject  of  the  experiment  indicates  the  moment  he  feels  the  sensation, 
and  that  the  instant  the  stiumlus  is  applied  successively  to  the  skin  ^n  the 
toe  and  on  the  thigh  is  also  accurately  recorded,  it  is  clear  that  he  will  signal 
the  sensation  of  stiuuilation  of  the  toe  a  little  later  than  when  he  signals  stii.'u- 
iatiun  of  the  skin  on  the  thigh,  and  that  the  difference  \\iU  indicate  the  time 
required  by  the  ciiange  in  the  ner\'e  to  pass  along  the  length  of  nerve  from 
the  toe  to  the  thigh.  In  the  observation  it  is  assumed  that  the  time  required 
for  the  changes  in  the  brain  resulting  in  sensation  and  volition,  for  the  trans- 
mission along  the  motor  ner\'e,'and  for  the  muscular  contraction  required  to 
signal  is  the  same  in  each  experiment.  Thus,  supposing  the  total  time  between 
the  moment  of  stimulating  to  the  moment  when  the  signal  that  the  sensation 
lias  been  felt  and  responded  to  is  x,  it  is  clear  that  this  time  is  composed  of  n, 
the  time  requireil  for  the  passage  of  the  nerve-current  in  the  first  experiment 
from  the  toe  to  the  brain,  of  b,  the  time  required  for  the  changes  in  the  brain 
Involved  in  sensation  and  volition,  and  of  c,  the  time  required  for  the  trans- 
mission along  the  motor  nerves  and  for  tlie  muscular  contraction  to  move  the 
ligfial,  — that  is,  x=o+b+c.  But,  if  the  time  between  the  moment  of  stimu- 
lating the  thigh  to  the  moment  of  signalling  be  shorter,  and  supposing  that  b 
»nd  c  are  constant,  then  a  varies  according  to  the  length  of  the  ner\'e.  Suppose 
the  difference  of  time  between  the  registration  of  stimulating  at  the  toe  and 
it  the  thigh  to  be  y,  then  in  the  second  experiment  i=a-y+b+c, — that  is, 
u=the  time  occupied  by  the  passage  of  the  nen-e-current  from  tlie  toe  to  the 
thigh.  This  method  has  also  heen  used  to  measure  the  time  required  for 
(ignalling  a  nervou.s  impression  in  various  circumstances,  or  what  is  usually 
tailed  the  "  reaction  period,"  The  most  convenient  apparatus  for  the  purpose 
la  a  chronograph  made  by  Konig  of  Paris,  the  instrument  being  fully  described 
In  M'Kendrick's  Outlines  of  Physiology,  p]>..53S-542. 

The  general  result  of  measurements  made  by  tliese  methods  is 
that  the  nerve-current  travels  slowly  compared  with  the  velocity 
of  electricity  or  of  light.  In  the  motor  ner\:es  of  the  frog  the 
velocity  is  about  87  feet  (26  to  27  metres)  per  second,  and  in  man 
and  warm-blood  d  animals  somewhat  faster,  115  to  130  feet  (35  to 
40  metres)  per  second.  The  results  as  to  velocity  in  sensory  nerves 
vary  from  50  to  100  metres  per  second.  Cold  retards,  heat  accel- 
ei-ates,  the  velocity.  As  already  stated,  the  velocity  is  also  retarded 
in  a  nerve  in  an  anelectrotonic,  and  accelerated  in  a  katelectrotonic 
state.  The  remarkable  point  is  that  the  transmission  of  the  nerve- 
current  is  slow,  and  that  events  appearing  to  our  consciousness 
instantaneous  require  a  considerable  time  for  their  occurrence.  It 
may  be  laid  down  as  a  general  truth  that  all  kinds  of  nervous  actions, 
even  those  considered  as  purely  psychical,  require  time. 

Production  of  Heat  hy  Nerves. — It  is  extremely  doubtful  whether 
the  production  of  heat  by  a  nerve  in  action  has  been  detected, 
although  theoretically  one  would  expect  heat  to  be  so  produced. 
Schiff  observed  an  increase  of  temperature  on  tetanization  in  the 
nerves  of  warm-blooded  animals  that  had  been  artificially  cooled  ; 
on  the  other  hand,  Helmholtz  and  Heidenhain's  experiments  yielded 
only  negative  results. 

Electrical  Phenomena  of  Nerve. — "WTien  a  piece  of  nerve  is  pro- 
perly brought  into  contact  \\-ith  the  terminals  of  a  sensitive  galvano- 
meter, a  current  flows  through  the  galvanometer  from  the  surface 
of  the  nerve  to  its  transverse  section  (see  fig.  4). 

If  metallic  conductors,  composed  (say)  of  zinc,  from  the  galvanometer  were 
brought  into  connexion  with  a  piece  of  ner\-e  removed  froTn  an  animal  newly 
killed,  little  or  no  current  would  be  obtained,  and  even  if  there  were  a  current 
it  might  be  due  to  contact  of  the  metallic  conductors  with  the  living  tissue 
exciting  electrolytic  decomposition.  Hence  it  is  necessary  to  have  a  fluid  in- 
terposed between  the  metal  and  the  animal  tissue,  say,  for  example,  the  zinc 
wire  or  plate  forming  the  terminals  of  the  galvanometer  is  immersed  in  a 
saturated  solution  of  sulphate  of  zinc.  But  as  sulj-hate  of  zinc  solution 
would  have  the  effect  of  irritating  the  living  muscle  it  is  necessary  to  have  an 
inactive  substance  between  the  tissue  and  the  sulphate  of  zine  solution.  All 
these  couditious  are-fulfllled  Vy  the  non-polarizable  electrodes  of  Du  Bois- 


Reyinond,  of  which  there  are  various  form*.  Two  zinc  troughs,  mounted  on 
insulating  plates  of  vulcanite,  have  the  inner  surfaces  carefully  amalgamated. 
These  are  tilled  with  a  saturated  solution  of  sulphate  of  zinc,  and  in  each 
trough  is  placed  a  small  cusliion  of  clean  blotting  or  filter  paper,  which  quickly 
Incomes  permeated  with  the  solution.  Finally,  a  small  plato  of  sculptort 
clay,  or  kaolin,  moistciu'l  with  a  half  per  cent,  solution  of  common  salt,  or. 


Flc,  4,— Diagnin  <  f  appir-^tu^  of  Du  Bois  Reymond  for  expernnents  on  elec- 
trical condition  of  muacle  and  ^er^e.  a,  zmc  troughs,  mounted  on  plecw 
of  vulcanite  b  :  c,  paper  pads  ;  d,  e,  small  pieces  of  moist  clay  ;  /,  /,  binding 
screws  for  attaching  terminals  of  galvanometer  g.  A  small  piece  of  paper 
connects  d  and  e,  and  thus  completes  the  galvanometer  circuit.    (AVundt.) 

still  better,  with  saliva,  is  laid  on  each  paper  pad.  These  clay  pads  are  for 
guarding  the  tissue  from  the  irritant  action  of  the  sulphate  of  zinc.  Wires  are 
carried  from  the  troughs  to  the  galvanometer,  and  a  key  is  interposed  in  tlie 
circuit.  The  Object  of  these  careful  arrangements  is  to  secure  that  no  current 
is  formed  by  the  apparatus  itself.  If  now  a  small  piece  of  ner\*e  be  so  placed 
on  the  clay  pads  that  the  transverse  section  touches  one  pad  and  the  longitudinal 
surface  the  other,  and  the  key  is  opened,  a  current  passes  through  the  galvano- 
meter, as  indicated  by  the  swing  of  the  needle.  Suppose  that  the  needle  is 
allowed  to  come  to  rest,  the  amount  of  deflexion  of  course  in<licating  the 
strength  of  the  current,  and  the  nerve  is  now  irritated  so  as  to  call  forth  its 
physiological  activity,  then  the  needle  swings  back  towards  zero.  This  back- 
ward swing  is  called  the  negative  variation  of  the  nene -current.  The  electro- 
motive force  of  the  current  obtainable  from  a  frog's  sciatic  nerve  is  about  •022 
of  a  volt,  and  somewhat  more  from  the  sciatic  nerve  of  a  rabbit.  This  ia  some- 
what iess  than  the  electromotive  force  of  a  frog's  muscle,  which  varies  from  "035 
to  -OTo  of  a  volt.  According  to  the  views  of  Hennann,  the  negative  variation- 
current  is  a  true  current  indicating,  and  indeed  preceding,  the  physiological 
activity  of  the  ner\-e.  He  denies  that  the  cunents  pre-exist  in  nerve  or  muscle, 
and  states  that  the  fii^t  current  obsened  when  the  nen-e  is  laid  on  the  pads  is 
simplydue  to  the  lower  potential  of  the  trans^■e^se  section,  caused  bythe  rapid 
death  of  the  nen-e-substance.  Tlie  nerve-ciurent  excited  by  a  series  of  inita- 
tions,  say  feeble  induction-currents,  may  be  regarded  as  composed  of  a  wave- 
like  series  of  momentary  currents,  each  of  which  is  preceded  by  a  negative 
variation-current.  Thus  the  electrical  phenomena  of  nerve  are  siimlar  in  kmd 
to  those  manifested  by  living  muscle. 

NutrXion  of  Nerves. — Probably  nei-ves  are   nourished  by  the  Nutn- 
plasma  reaching  the  axis-oylinder  at  tlie  nodes  of  Ranvier  ;   but  it  tion  of 
would  appear  from  the  researches  of  Waller  that  the  nutrition  of  nervca^ 
the  nerve-fibre  is  influenced  by  the  nerve-cell  with  which  it  is  con- 
nected.    The  so-called  ''law  of  Waller"  is  well  illustrated  in  the 
case  of  division  of  the  roots  of  the  spinal  nerves.     JEach  of  these 
nerves  has  two  roots, — a  posterior,  sensory,  on  which  there  is  a 
ganglion;  and  an  anterior,  motor.     If  the  anterior  root  be  divided, 
in  the  course  of  a  few  days  the  end  of  the  nerve  cut  off  from  the 
spinal  cord  is  found  to  be  undergoing  degeneration,  whilst  the  end 
attached  to  the  cord  is  still  normal.    Again,  if  the  posterior  root  be 
divided  between  the  ganglion  and  the  cord,  the  end  remaining  in 
connexion  with  the  ganglion  remains  unaffected,  whilst  the  other 
fnd  undergoes  degeneration.     This  degeneration,  in  the  case  of  a 
motor  nerve,  aflects  tlie  nerve  to  its  very  terminations.     The  axis-  \ 

cylinder  disintegrates  into  drops  of  fatty  matter,  and  the  medullatej 
structure  entirely  disappears.  It  is  well  known  that  when  a  nerv« 
is  cut  the  ends  may  reunite  so  completely  as  to  ensure  a  return  of 
the  normal  function  in  from  two  to  five  weeks.  Accordingto 
Ranvier,  the  axis-cylinders  in  connexion  uith  the.  central  portion 
play  an  important  part  in  this  regeneration.  They  become  lai^er, 
stiiated,  and  by  and  by  form  new  axis-cylinders,  which  pass  into 
the  cicatricial  "tissue  and  come  into  contact  with  tlie  other  end  of 
the  divided  nerve.  This  is  a  remarkable  confirmation  of  the  view 
of  Waller  that  the  nutritional  activity  of  a  neiTe-fibre  ia  in  the 
direction  of  its  physiological  activity. 

Nature  of  Nerve-currents, — The  intrinsic  nature  of  the  change 
in  a  nerve-fibre  effected  by  a  stimulus  is  quite  unknown  ;  but  it  is 
important  to  appreciate  clearly  the  view  that  a  nerve  is  both  a 
receiver  and  a  conductor  of  impressions.  It  can  be  stimulated  in' 
any  part  of  its  course,  and  from  the  stimulated  point  some  kind  of 
change  is  propagated  along  the  nerve.  This  change  is  analogous 
to  the  passage  of  electricity  along  a  conductor,  or  to  the  rapid 
passage  onwards  of  a  series  of  chemical  decompositions,  as  when  a* 
long  thin  band  of  gun-cotton  .properly  prepared  is  seen  to  slowly 
burn  from  end  to  end,  or  to  the  quick  transmission  of  isomeric 
changes  ;  but  the  analogy  is  not  complete  in  anv  ease.     M'hatever 


SYSTEM.] 


PHYSIOLOGY 


27 


the  change  may  be,  however,  it  docs  not  appear  to  pass  from  one 
nerve-fibre  to  another  running  alongside  of  it.  Each  fibre  con- 
ducts only  its  own  impression,  and  there  is  nothing  analogous  to  the 
induotire  elfect  of  one  electrical  conductor  upon  an  adjacent  one. 
Another  question  much  debated  is  whether  sensory  and  motor 
nerves  act  in  the  same  way ;  or,  in  other  \\  ords,  is  there  any  essential 
difference  between  them?  There  appeal's  to  be  no  difference  in 
mode  of  action  ;  the  difference  in  the  effect  produced  depends  on 
the  ap[iai-atus  in  which  the  nerve  ends.  Thus  there  may  be  con- 
traction of  a  muscle  if  the  nerve  terminates  in  a  muscle,  change  of 
the  calibre  of  a  blood-vessel  if  the  nerve  ends  in  that  structure, 
secretion  from  a  gland  if  the  nerve  is  in  connexion  either  with  the 
vessel  or  the  nerve-cells  of  a  gland,  an  electrical  discharge  if  the 
nerve  ends  in  the  electrical  organ  of  a  Torpedo  or  Oi/miuitiis,  and  a 
feeling  or  sensation  if  the  nerve-fibres  go  to  a  sentient  brain.  In 
all  these  Instances  the  nature  of  the  change  in  the  nerve  and  the 
mode  of  its  transmission  are  the  same,  and  the  results  are  differ- 
ent because  tbi. nerves  terminate  in  different  kinds  of  structure. 
It  would  apptap  from  experimental  evidence  that,  when  a  nerve- 
fibre  is  irritateJ,  my  about  the  middle  of  its  lengvli,  a  change  is 
simultaneonsly  propagated  towards  each  end  ;  but,  as  only  one  end 
is  in  connexion  with  an  apparatus  capable  of  responding,  the  effect 
at  this  end  is  the  only  one  observed.  Thus,  if  a  motor  nerve  bo 
irritated,  there  is  muscular  contraction,  in  conseiiueuce  of  the 
stimulus  rousing  the  mnssular  substance  into  activity,  probably 
through  the  agency  of  the  end -plates;  but  there  will  be  at  the 
same  time  a  backward  wave  along  {be  nerve  to  the  motor  centres 
in  the  cord  or  brain.'  It  is  doubtful  whether  the  nerve-energy  be- 
comes weaker  or  gathers  intensity  as  it  passes  along  a  nerve  ;  but 
the  balance  of  eviilence  is  in  favour  of  the  view  that  the  so-called 
"avalanche  theory"  of  Pftnger,  according  to  which  the  energy 
gathers  intensity  as  it  passes  along,  is  incorrect 

Classification  of  kernes. — Functionally,  nerves  may  be  classified 
into  motor,  sensory,  vascular,  secretory,  and  inhibitory.  The 
original  meaning  attached  to  the  term  "motor"  nerve  was  a  nerve 
entirely  composed  of  fibres  by  the  excitation  of  which  influences 
were  convoyed  to  a  muscle  which  caused  the  muscle  to  contract. 
As  these  influences  passed  outwards  from  a  nerve-centre  towards 
the  periphery  of  the  body  they  were  also  termed  "  efferent "  nerves. 
On  the  other  hand,  nerves  were  found  which,  when  stimulated, 
gave  rise  to  sensations  of  pleasure  or  of  pain,  and  these  were  called 
"sensory"  nerves.  Finally,  it  was  shown  that  a  third  class  of 
nerves  were  composed  both  of  sensory  and  of  motor  fibres,  and  they 
were  called  "  sense- motor  "  nerves.  Sensory  nerves  were  also  sub- 
divided into  those  of  general  and  those  of  special  sensibility.  This 
was  an  artificial  classification  based  on  the  fact  that  when  a  nerve 
of  so-called  special  sensibility,  such  as  the  optic,  was  stimulated  in 
any  way  the  same  kind  of  sensation  followed.  Thus  stimulation 
of  the  optic  nerve  by  cutting,  pricking,  pressure,  or  electricity  is 
always  followed  by  a  luminous  sensation.  But  the  progress  of 
research  showed  that  when  certain  nerve-fibres  were  stimulated  the 
result  was  not  necessarily  a  muscular  contraction  :  it  might  .be 
contraction  of  a  blood-vessel,  modified  secretion  of  a  g'anu,  or  a 
diminution  or  arrest  of  some  kind  of  nervous  action.  These  facts 
demand  another  classification  of  nerves  such  as  the  following. 

(\.  Motor,  sometimes  tenned  efftnnt,  to  juuscles, 
exciting  contraction. 
2.  Secretory,  to  the  cells  of  glands,  causing  secre- 
tion, pos3U)ly  a  particular  kind  of  secretion. 
8.  Vascular,  or  vajo-motor,  to  the  walls  of  blood- 
vessels, so  as  to  cause  contraction  (roso-mofor) 
or  dilatation  (vaso-dilators,  or  vaso-inhibitor$). 

4.  Itihihitory,  SO  affecting  other  centres  of  nervous 
activity  as  to  rooderat«  or  neutralize  their 
action. 

5.  EUctrical,  so  affecting  a  special  organ  as  to  call 
forth  electrical  discharges,  as  in  electric  Oshes, 
Torpedo^  Gymiwtus,  Malapterurus,  &c. 

^o.  General,  conveying  to  nerve- 
centrear  in  brain  inflnences 
wliich  cause  sensations  of  a 
vaguo    character,    scarcely 
perceptible    to    conscious- 
ness, and  not    permanent, 
as  (Vom  lungs,  heart,  stom- 
ach, &c. 
Speciid,  conveying  to  ner\'e- 
centres  in  brain  Influences 
which  cause  visual,  audit- 
ory,   giifltatory,    olfactory, 
V         or  tactile  sensations. 
Aferent,  or  re/tex,  conveying  to  nerve-centres  in- 
fluences which  usually  cause  no  sensation,  and 
which  may  or  may  not  bo  followed  by  move- 
menta.  secretions,  changes  in  calibro  of  vessels, 
V         ic. 

fn  addltliJn  there  are  nerve-flbrcs  connecting  "Dcrve-ceUs  In  the  great  centres, 
to  which  no  special  filDctioos  can  be  attril)ut«d. 

2. — Terminal  Oeoans. 

Although,  isjias  been  shown,  a  nerve  may  bo  stimulated  in  any 

part  of  its  course,  the  stimulus   is   usually  applied  to  a   special 

strtxcturo  adapted  physiologically  for  the  reception  of  the  particular 

kind  of  stimulus.     Such  a  special  structure   may  bo   termed  a, 


CKNTttirooAL,  or  ErrER- 
ENT,  or  Motor,  convey- 
ing Influences  outwards 
ttvm  a  nerve-centre. 


> 


CmTRrpiBTAL,  or  ArrsR- 
KKT.  or  tiENSORV,  Con- 
veying   Influences    In--^ 
wards  towards  a  nerve- 
oantre. 


1.  Sensory,  caus- 
ing mora  or 
less  acute' 
nensatioDi. 


"terminal  organ."  For  example,  in  the  mechanism  of  vision  (see 
Eve,  vol.  viii.  p.  821  sq.)  there  are  the  retina  or  terminal  organ, 
the  optic  nerve  or  conductor,  and  the  brain  or  a  portion  of  it,  the 
recipient  of  the  impression.  The  fibres  of  the  optic  nerve  are  not 
alfected  by  light,  but  when  they  are  mechanically  or  electrically 
initated  the  result  is  a  luminous  sensation,  because. the  action 
of  the  fibres  of  the  optic  nerve  is  to  call  forth  in  the  brain  the 
mechanism  connected  with  luminous  sensations.  But  light  has  a 
specific  action  on  the  retina,  and  in  turn  the  activity. of  tiie  retina 
stimulates  the  fibres  of  the  optic  nerve.  The  retina  is  therefore  the 
terminal  organ  adapted  for  the  reception  of  rays  of  light.  In  like 
manner,  each  sense  has  its  appropriato  terminal  apparatus,  and 
these  are  described  under  the  headings  cf  the  various  senses,  Eau, 
Eye,  Smell,  Ta.ste,  Touch.'  To  understand  the  tnie  nature  of 
nervous  action  it  is  necessary  to  be  clear  as  to  the  functions  of  the 
terminal  organs.  They  are  liberating  mechanisms.  They  do  not 
transform  the  outer  energy  into  the  physiological  energy,  nervous 
action  ;  but  they  call  it  into  action.  Thus  light  acting  on  the 
retina  is  not  directly  transformed  into  nervous  energj-,  but  it 
excites  changes  in  the  retina,  which  in  turn  produce  activity  of  the 
optic  nerve.  The  structure  of  each  of  these  terminal  organs  need 
not  bo  here  described,  but  it  may  be  stated  that  they  all  essentially 
consist  of  modified  epithelium-cells,  or  what  may  be  called  "nerve- 
epithelium."  In  tracing  their  development  throughout  the  animal 
kingdom  it  will  be  found  that  the  simplest  terminal  organs  are 
epithelium-cells  on  the  surface  of  the  body ;  but  during  evolutionary 
progress  from  lower  to  higher  forms  these  cells  become  more  and 
more  modified  and  more  and  more  protected  by  descending  deeper 
into  the  structure  of  the  animal,  until  we  meet  with  the  complicated 
organs  of  special  sense  in  the  higher  animals.  Another  class  of  ter- 
minal organs  is  that  comprehending  the  forms  ?t  the  ends  of  motor 
nerves.  Such  are  the  end -plates  found  in  muscle,  and  described 
in  vol.  i.  pp.  861,  862.  The  different  modes  of  uerve-tennination 
may  be  here  briefly  classified. 


Organ.  Temijtal  Orgnyi. 

Skin  (see  Touca)  Tactile  cells  of  Merkel,  in  the  epi- 

deniiie. 
Tactile  corpuscles  of  Wagner  and 

Meissner,  in  papillsE:  of  the  skin. 
End-bulbs  of  Krause,  in  conjunc- 
tiva, penis,  and  cUtoris. 
Pacinian     bodies,     attached     to 

nerves  of  hand  or  foot,  or  in 

the  mescnteij. 
Corpuscles  of  Grsndry,  found  la 

bills  of  birds. 
Network  of  fibres,  as  in  cornea.  , 
Hair -cells,  supported  by  arches    Hearing. 

of  Corti,  and  connected  with 

the  basilar  membrane. 
Rods  and  cones  of  retina Vision. 


Efea. 


Touch,  pressure,  or 
'     temperature. 


Ear  (see  vol.  L  p.  894, 
and  voL  vii.  p.  591). 

Eye  (see  vol.  i.  pp.  886 
and  888,  and  vol.  viii. 
p.  810). 

Nose  (see  Si4ELL)    . . . 

Tongue  (see  Tabts) 

Muscles  (voL  i.  p.  862) 


Rods  and  ollactory  cells .^.    SmeD. 

Taste-buds  and  gustatory  cells.'.    Taste. 
Motorial  end  -  plates  of  Poyire,    Motion, 
Kuhne,  Krause,  Ranvier,  iiC 

Glands Nerve-endings  in  secreting  cells    Seci^^tion. 

— rfluger  and  Kupffcr. 
Electric  organs  (see  vol.    Lamimc  with  free  cilia-like  pro     Electric  dlschar^ 
xii.  pp.  640,  660).  cesses. 

3. — Central  Oroans. 

A.^-Oeiural  Physiohgy  cf  Central  Organs. 

General  Structure. — The  central  organs  consist  of  a  special  kind 
of  cells  called  "nerve-cells,"  of  nerve-fibres,  both  mednllatcd  and 
non-inedullated,  and  of  a  variety  of  connective  tissue,  termed 
"  neuroglia."  On  cutting  into  any  central  nervous  organ,  such  ta 
the  spinal  cord  or 
brain,  two  kinds  of 
nervous  matter  are 
seen,  the  white  and 
the  grey.  The  grey 
consists  of  nerve- 
cells,  nerve  -  fibres, 
and  neuroglia,  whilst 
the  white  is  com- 
posed chiefly  of  \ 
nerve -fibres  with 
small  amount  of 
neuroglia  and  no 
nerve-cells.  Ncrvo 
cells  vary  much  i„  Fio.  6.-Varions  fumis  of  nerve -mIU.  o.mi.Jlirotar, 
,.  -Ill  from  grev  matter  of  spmal  cord  ;  b,  a,  bipolar,  from 

lorm,  as  will  bo  seen  pi.^na  on  posterior  roits  of  sninol  nen-e«;  (•,»,»«(• 
by  referring  to  fig.  5.  /v./ar,  from  crn'liellnm  ,  p  siiowi  nulications  of  a 
Tliey  may  bo  spner-  pn>rrss  coming  off  at  lower  end ;  «,  union  of  threa 
ni.lnl  nvmd^l  or  ir-  muUipolar  cells  in  spmal  cor<l  ;  /,  union  of  thr« 
onlal,  ovomai,  or  ir  ,j.,  ,„,.  ^^,,1,  ,„  grey  matter  of  cerebral  liemupbenM. 
regularly  tnangular. 

The  cells  of  tho  spinal  ganglia  arc  usually  rounded  ;  those  of  th» 
sympathetic  moro  angular  ;  thoso  of  the  spinal  cord  multi|iolar,^ 
that  is,  having  many  processes  or  poles  connected  with  them ;  those 
of  the  cerebrum  triangular  or  pyramidal :   and  those  of  the  cero^ 


28 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[neevous 


bellum  flask-shaped,  having  processes  at  each  end.  A  nerre-cell 
shows  a  large  clear  nucleus  and  a  small  nucleolus,  whilst  the  cell- 
substance  is  very  granular.  Some  observers  think  they  have  traced 
into  the  substance  of  the  cell  a  fibrillated  structure  from  the  axis- 
cylinder  of  the  nerve-fibre  ending  in  the  pole  or  process  ;  but  this 
is  doubtful,  and  the  appearance  may  be  accounted  for  by  the  action 
of  the  reagent  employed  and  by  the  great  difficulty  of  correctly 
interpreting  optical  appearances  under  very  high  powers.  The 
neuroglia  is  a  delicate  interstitial  connective  substance  having 
small  connective-tissue  corpuscles  imbedded  in  it. 

Chemical  ComtihUion  of  Grey  and  IVhUe  Matter. — This  is  still 
imperfectly  known,  and  throws  almost  no  light  on  the  functions  of 
the  central  organs.  By  various  chemical  processes  the  following 
substances  have  been  obtained  from  nervous  matter :  cerebrin, 
lecithin,  albumin,  neurokeratin,  cholesterin  and  fats,  creatin, 
xanthin,  hypoxanthin,  inosite,  lactic  acid,  volatile  fatty  acids, 
salts,  and  water.  The  gi'ey  matter  of  the  brain  is  distinguished 
chemically  from  the  white  chiefly  by  containing  more  water, 
albumin,  lecithin,  and  lactic  acid,  and  less  cholesterin,  fat,  and 
protagon  (Hermann).  Doubtless  many  of  these  substances  are  de- 
rived from  the  disintegration  of  a  more  complex  chemical  substance 
not  yet  isolated  in  a  pure  state  from  nervous  matter.  Petrowsky 
gives  the  composition  of  grey  and  white  matter  as  follows. 


Grey  matter. 

White  matter. 

Water    

Solids                                                     

81-6 
18-4 

65-4 
17-2 
187 
0-5 
6-7 
1-5 

68-4 
31-6 

27-7 
9-9 

61-9 
9-5 
i-3 
0-6 

The  solids  consist  of— 

Substances  soluble  in  ether 

Salts    

The  salts  found  in  nervous  matter  are  similar  to  those  in  blood, 
and  it  would  appear  that  phosphates,  or  rather  combinations  in 
which  phosphorus  exists,  are  the  most  prominent  products  of 
analysis.  Thus  about  40  per  cent,  of  the  salts  consist  of  phos- 
phates of  soda  and  of  potash — that  is,  the  ash,  on  analysis,  gives  this 
result ;  but  it  must  not  be  inferred  that  in  nervous  tissue  phosphates 
of  the  alkalis  exist  to  this  amount,  as  there  is  every  reason  to 
think  that  phosphorous  compounds,  along  with  alkalis,  exist  in 
nervous  matter,  although  not  in  the  form  usually  called  phosphates. 
The  remarkably  large  amount  of  water,  amounting  to  no  less  than 
from  70  to  80  per  cent,  indicates  mattel'  in  a  condition  suitable 
for  rapid  molecular  changes,  on  which,  no  doubt,  the  functions  of 
the  tissue  depend. 
Eicita-  Excitability  of  Grey  Matter.  — As  grey  matter  contains  both  nerve- 
bility  fibres  and  nerve-cells,  and  as  these  cannot  be  separated  in  any  experi- 
and  ment,  it  is  clear  that  no  precise  results  can  be  obtained  from  any 

blood-  effort  to  distinguisli  the  excitability  of  grey  matter  from  that  of 
lupply.  white.  The  excitability  of  the  grey  matter  must  depend  on  blood- 
supply  and  on  the  rapid  removal  of  waste -products.  If  the  first 
be  deficient  either  in  quantity  or  q"uality,  or  if  the  second  be  not 
carried  on  so  rapidly  as  to  get  rid  of^the  waste-products  as  they  are 
formed,  the  activity  of  the  nerve-cells  must  sufi'er.  The  sudden 
deprivation  of  blood,  as  when  the  heart  ceases  to  beat  for  even 
half  a  second,  will  cause  unconsciousness ;  the  mixture  with  the 
blood  of  a  small  quantity  of  bromide  of  potassium,  or  of  alcohol, 
or  of  chloroform  or  other  anesthetic,  or  of  morphia,  will  affect  the 
activity  of  the  brain.  And  it  is  well  known  that,  when  disease  of 
the  kidney,  or  such  a  disease  as  an  acute  fever,  affects  the  body, 
matters  may  accumulate  in  the  blood  which  so  contaminate  it  as 
to  make  it  unfit  to  carry  on  the  vital  changes  on  which  activity 
of  brain  depends,  and  the  result  is  delirium  or  unconsciousness. 
There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  activity  of  nerve-cells  is 
delicately  attuned  to  surrounding  conditions.  A  small  excess  per 
cent,  of  carbonic  acid,  era  small  amount  Of  what  we  call  a  poison,  is 
sufficient  to  modify  or  arrest  their  action.  The  rhythmic  action  of 
various  centres,  such  as  those  controlling  the  movements  of  re- 
spiration, is  in  favour  of  the  view  that  the  activity  of  such  centres 
depends  on  delicate  equipoises.  If  during  expiration  there  is  for 
the  moment  a  deficiency  of  oxygen  in  the  blood,  or  an  accumula- 
tion of  carbonic  acid,  the  result  will  be  an  attempt  at  inspiration. 
This  gets  rid  of  the  carbonic  acid  and  introduces  oxygen,  and  an 
expiration  ensues.  It  is  not  pretended  here  to  state  what  exactly 
happens,  as  these  phenomena  of  respiration  are  still  obscure,  but 
they  are  brought  forward  with  the  view  of  showing  that  the  actions 
of  the  rhythmic  centres  of  respiration  depend  on  the  delicate 
balance  established  between  the  external  conditions  and  those 
centres.  If  this  be  the  case  there  is  little  doubt  that  a  similar 
effect  is  produced  on  other  centres  by  the  nature  of  the  blood 
supplied,  and  that  the  quality  and  quantity  of  the  supply  are 
important  factors  in  the  production  of  all  conscious  conditions. 

General  Phenomena  manifested  by  Xervous  Centres. — Before  enter- 
ing on  a  detailed  description  of  the  functions  of  the  great  centres 
such  as  spinal-cord  and  brain,  it  is  well  to  take  a  survey  of  some  of 


the  general  phenomena  manifested  by  such  centres:  These  may  be 
grouped  under  the  heads  of  (1)  reflex  actions,  (2)  inhibitory  actions, 
(3)  accelerating  actions,  (4)  vaso-motor  actions,  (5)  secretory  actions, 
(6)  sensations,  and  (7)  intellectual  acts. 

Reflex  Actions. — Impressions  made  on  sensory  nerves  are  con- 
veyed to  nerve-centres,  where  they  may  or  may  not  awaken  con- 
sciousness. A  sensation  may  be  defined  as  the  consciousness  of  an 
impression,  and  may  or  may  not  be  followed  by  rpotion.  Either 
motion  may  be  voluntary,  or  it  may  be  caused  by  direct  stimulation 
of  the  motor  nerve  distributed  to  the  muscles.  The  latter  kind  of 
action  in  the  living  body  is  not  common.  Usually  motor  nerves 
are  acted  on  by  the  will  or  by  emotional  states  ;  but  it  not 
unfrequently  happens  that  physical  stimuli  occasion  motion  in  an 
indirect  manner,  the  impressions  being  carried  along  sensory  nerves 
to  a  central  organ,  where  changes  are  excited  which  result  in  a 
discharge  of  nervous  energy  along  motor  nerves  to  various  muscles. 
Thus  a  frog  in  which  the  brain  and  medulla  oblongata  have  been 
destroyed  will  draw  up  its  limbs  if  the  foot  be  pinched.  Such 
actions,  taking  place  without  consciousness,  are  called  "reflex 
actions,"  and  the  mechanism  required  for  their  performance  may 
be  thus  described:  (1)  excitation  of  a  sensory  or  afferent  nerve, 

(2)  excitation  of  an  intermediate  | 
nervous  or  reflex  centre,   and  I 

(3)  excitation  of  a  motor  or  I 
efferent  nerve,  which  causes  a  [ 
muscular  contraction.  The  dia-' 
gram  in  fig.  6  shows  the  sim- 
plest mechanism ;  but  it  is  rare  I 
to   find   the   arrangements   so  I 

simple,    and    the    mechanism  v.      -     o-      ,       «         ..        , 

„    ^,  '  ,       ,        Flo.  6.— Sunnle  reflex  action ;  1,  sensory 

may  become  more  complex  (see     surface,;  2,  n.uscle  ;  a,  sensory  nerve; 

fig.  7)  either  by  the  existence     b,  nerve-cell:   c.  motor   nerve.      The 

of  a  number  of  cells  or  groups     arrows  indicate  the  direction  in  which 

of  cells  in  the  nerve-centre,  or  '  the  influence  travels. 

by  the  existence  of  numerous  afferent  or  efferent  nerves.     Tho 

essence  of  a  reflex  action   is  the  transmutation  by  means  of  tho 


Fig,  7. — Double  reflex  action,  or  action  in  which  two  or  more  nerve-ceUa  are 
involved  ;  1,  2,  as  in  fig.  6 ;  o,  motor  nerve ;  6,  c,  nerve  cftUs. 

irritable  protoplasm  of  a  nerve-cell  of  afferent  into  efferent  impulses 
(Foster).  The  following  is  a  brief  summary  of  the  leading  facts 
relating  to  reflex  action. 

(a)  The  initial  excitation  may  occur  both  in  nerves  of  general 
sensibility  and  in  those  of  the  special  senses ;  but  certain  nerves 
more  easily  excite  reflex  actions  tlian  others.  Thus  when  light 
falls  on  the  retina  there  is  contraction  of  the  pupil,  the  afferent 
nerve  in  this  case  being  the  optic  (see  vol.  viii.  p.  821  sq.). 

(6)  A  reflex  movement  may  occur  whether  we  excite  a  sensory 
nerve  at  its  commencement  or  at  some  point  in  its  course,  but  in 
the  latter  case  the  action  is  less  intense  than  in  the  former. 

(c)  Grey  matter  containing  nerve-cells  constitutes  the  chief  por- 
tion of  reflex  centres,  and  groups  of  such  reflex  centres  are  frequently 
associated  by  internuncial  fibres.  Tho  excitability  is  increased 
when  these  centres  are  severed  from  communication  with  psychical 
centres  which  preside  over  voluntary  ■ 
movements.  Thus,  after  decapitation, 
reflex  movements  occur  with  greater  I 
intensity  than  in  the  injured  animal ;  [ 
they  are  also  more  active  during  sleep.  I 
It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  reflex  I 
actions  may  be  restrained  or  hindered  I 
in  their  development  by  the  action  of  I 
higher  centres.  This  is  termed  the  f 
"inhibition  of  reflex  action." 

(d)  Reflex  movements  may  occur  in  I 
one  muscle,  or  in  many  muscles  or  I 
groups  of  muscles.  One  or  more  I 
groups  of  muscles  may  be  involved  I 
according  to  the  strength  of  the  | 
stimulus  ai>plied  to  the  sensory  sur- 
face and  the  degree  of  excitability  of  j 
the  reflex  centre  at  the  time  (see  fi".  8).  f 
Tlie  facts  are  thus  summarized  by  I 
Pfliiger.  Unilateral  action  ;  if  in  a  I 
decapitated  frog  we  excite  the  skin  of  Fio.  8  — p,  sensory  surface;  a,  i, 
the  hind  foot  p,  the  excitation  is  c,  d,  e,  nerve-cells ;  1,  2,  3,  4,  6, 
transmitted  from  the  centre  a  to  the     ^'  *'  *'  ''"'^<^'<>^- 

muscles  1  of  the  foot  on  tlie  same  side.  Symmetrical  action  ;  if 
the  excitation  be  more  intense,  it  is  transmitted  to  a  centre  on  the. 


'.f'-M. 


;^-4' 


SYSTEM.] 


PHYSIOLOGY 


29 


Fig.  ;j.  — Diagram  illustrating  the  siiper- 
positinn  of  reflexes,  vi,  vt,  iimseles  ; 
1, 1,  series  of  reflex  centres  on  one  side, 
under  the  control  of  2,  2,  wliicJi  are 
again  gnvemeil  by  3.  There  is  a  cor- 
respondiiiK  series,  I',  1';  2',  2';  3'  on 
the  other  side.  Both  sides  are  presided 
over  by  4.  Tlius  a  stinuilua  reaching 
4  might  excite  the  activity  oF  all  the 
muscles  iji,  m  ;  if  it  reached  3,  only  one 
half  of  the  muscles  ;  if  it  reached  2,  to 
the  left,  only  three  of  the  muscles  ; 
and,  finally,  if  it  afl'ected  :,  to  the  left, 
only  one  muscle  m. 


opposite  side  b,  and  contractions  may  occur  in  the  luiscles  of  the 

hind  Innbs  on  both  sides  1,  2.     Iiiadiation  :  if  ine  excitation  be 

still  increased  in  intensity,  it 

affects  higher  centres  c,  d,  and 

there  may  be  contraction  of  the 

fore-limbs  3, 4.    General  action; 

if  the  excitation  be  still  furtlicr 

increased,  it  may  pass  to  a  still 

higher  rellcx  centre  e,  and  the 

result  is  general  convulsions. 

(«)  Reflex  centres  may  bo  so 
iuranged  in  the  body  .is  to  con- 
stitnte  a  series  in  which  those 
of  the  cerebrum  govern  or  con- 
trol others  in  the  deeper  gan- 
glia of  the  brain,  while  these, 
in  turn,  have  an  influence  over 
still  lower  centres  in  the  spinal 
cord.  This  arrangement  is 
termed  the  "superposition  of 
reflexes  "  (see  fig.  9). 

(/)  Stimulation  of  a  sensory 
surface  may  simultaneously  pi'o- 
duce,  by  a  reflex  mechanism, 
movement,  secretion,  and  con- 
sciousness. Thus  a  condiment 
in  the  mouth  may  cause  in- 
voluntary twitchings  of  the 
muscles  secretion  of  saliva,  and 
a  sensation  (see  fig.  10). 

ig)  Certain  substances,  in 
particular  strychnin,  increase 
reflex  excitability,  so  that  the  slightest  external  stimulation  of  the 
sensory  nerves  of  tin'  skin  is  sufficient  to  cause  severe  convulsions. 
On  the  other  hand, 
bromide  of  potas- 
sium, hydrate  of 
chloral,  and  atro- 
pin  diminish  reflex 
excitability. 

(A)  Individual 
stimuli  only  excite 
a  reflex  act  when 
they  are  very  pow- 
erful, but  stimuli 
applied  at  frequent 
intervals  act  the 
more  quickly  and 

powerfully        the 

more  rapidly  they  Fio.  lO.  — Diagram  ilinstr.-niii:.;  n  cninj.icx  reflex  mechan 
succeed  each  other. 
To  produce  the  re- 
flex change  in  the 
centre,  therefore,  a 
aummation  or  ad- 
dition of  centri- 
petal excitations  is  required.  When  these  reach  a  certain  number 
the  centre  responds  (Stirling). 

(i)  Keflex  actions  involve  time.  Thus  the  time  between  the 
stimulation  and  the  movement  can  be  measured,  and,  if  we  take 
into  consideration  the  time  occupied  by  the  passage  of  the  nerve- 
current  along  the  nerves  involved,  and  the  latent  period  of  muscular 
contraction,  and  subtract  this  from  the  total  time,  the  remainder 
will  represent  the  time  occupied  by  the  changes  in  the  centre  or 
the  reflex-time.  This  has  been  found  to  be  from  •05.15  to  'Oiri  of 
a  second.  It  is  lengthened  by  cold  and  shortened  by  increasing 
the  strength  of  ihe  stimulus  and  by  strychnia. 

{k)  In  compound  reflex  acts  the  initial  excitation  may  occur 
in  psychical  centres,  as  when  the  recollection  of  an  odour  causes 
nausea,  or  when  a  feeling  of  ennui  is  followed  by  a  yawn. 

(l)  Some  reflex  movements  are  the  result  of  inherited  peculiar- 
ities of  structure,  as  those  made  by  a  new-born  child  when  it  seizes 
the  breast.  Other  reflex  movements  are  acquired  during  life.  Such 
are  at  first  voluntary,  but  they  become  automatic  by  repetition. 

Tlio  following  are  some  of  the  more  common  examples  of  reflex  movements. 
Motions  of  the  iiniacles  in  any  part  of  the  limbs  or  trunk  under  the  Influence 
of  sensory  luipressions  on  the  akin,  such  as  tickling.  i>ficking,  &c,  ;  shud- 
dering from  cold,  shuddering  caused  by  grating  noises,  A'c. ;  contraction  of 
llio  pupil  under  tlic  influence  of  light  on  the  retina  ;  winking,  from  Irritation 
of  the  sensory  nerves  of  the  conjunctiva :  sneezing,  from  irritation  of  the 
Schneiderian  membrane,  or  by  a  glai-ing  light  on  the  eye  ;  spasm  of  the  glottis 
and  coughing,  from  iiTitation  of  the  Uirynx  or  trachea  ;  laughing,  CAUicd  by 
tickling  the  skin;  the  first  respiration 'of  the  child  at  birtli,  from  the  im- 
pression of  cold  upon  the  nerves  of  Uio  skin,  and  especially  those  of  the  cheat ; 
respiratory  movements  in  the  adult,  from  the  impression  caused  by  tlienlTerent 
nerves  of  the  luncs  (sympathetic  or  vagus),  by  the  presence  of  carbonic  acid 
in  the  air  cells  and  passages,  or  in  those  of  th?  general  systoni,— also,  occasional 
modifications  of  the  res(Mratory  movements  from  impressions  of  cold,  Ac,  on 
tho  surface  of  the  body  :  suckling  In  infancy  ;  deglutition  or  swallowinK.  wiih 
all  tUo  complicated  movements  then  occunlng  in  the  tongue;  fauces,  larynx, 


ism.  The  arrows  indicate  direction  of  currents.  1, 
sensory  surface ;  2,  itiuscle ;  3.  gland  ;  a,  sensory 
nerve  ;  6,  reflex  centre,  connected  with  another  reflex 
centre  d  by  interhuucia!  fibre  e ;  c,  motor  or  efferent 
ner\'e ;  /,  secretory  nerve  passing  to  gland  3.  From 
the  other  side  of  d  is  seen  a  fibre  passing  to  the  brain, 
and  there  exciting  changes  which  result  in  a  sensation. 


and  gullet ;  vomiting,  caused  by  Irritation  in  fitomacn.  or  in  fauces,  or  follow, 
ing  nausea  ;  forced  contractions  of  the  sphincter  muscles  of  the  anus,  urinary 
bladder,  and  vagina,  under  local  initation ;  erection  and  emission  under  the 
influence  of  irritation  of  the  nerves  of  tho  penis  and  other  parts  in  the  vicinity: 
rhythmic  movements  of  lymphatic  hearts  in  reptiles  ;  rhythmic  movements  of 
the  heart  by  the  action  of  cardiac  ganglia  ;  peristaltic  motions  of  the  stomach 
and  alimentary  canal,  m  digestion  and  in  defecation,  &c.,  under  the  influence  of 
impressions  conveyed  to  the  ganglia  by  the  splanchnic  and  intestinal  nerves  ; 
action  of  the  bladder  in  expelling  urine  :  expulsive  action  of  the  uterus  in  j^r- 
turition  ;  contractions  and  dilatations  of  the  blood-vessels  under  the  influence 
of  the  vaso-mot«rsystem  of  nerves  ;  many  obscure  and  complex  morbid  actions, 
such  as  palpitations  of  the  heart,  cramps  In  tlie  limbs  caused  by  Irritation  m 
the  stomach  or  intestinal  canal,  fainting  from  concussion  or  from  peculiar 
odours,  dilatation  of  the  pupil  and  grinding  of  the  teeth  from  the  irritation  of 
worms,  and  the  convulsive  seizure  sometimes  occurring  during  teething. 

Inhibitory  and  Accelerating  Actions. — As  we  have  seen,  stimula- 
tion of  a  nerve  may  cause  a  sensation,  a  reflex  action,  or  the  direct 
contraction  of  a  muscle ;  but  in  some  instances  when  the  nerve 
is  stimulated  movements  may  bo  arrested.  This  occurs  where 
rhythmic  and  apparently  spontaneous  or  automatic  actions  are 
restrained  or  inhibited  by  the  activity  of  certain  nerves.  The  most 
striking  instance  of  inhibition  is  i 
offered  by  the  heart.  The  subject  I 
will  be  readily  understood  with  the  I 
aid  of  fig.  11,  which  illustrates  the  [ 
innervation  of  the  heart  and  bipod- 
vessels  and  especially  the  inhibition  I 
and  action  of  the  depressor  nerve. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  heart  I 
of  a  warm-blooded  animal  ceases  to  | 
beat  almost  immediately  after  re- 
moval from  the  body,  but  the  heart  I 
of  a  cold-blooded  animal,  such  as  [ 
the  frog,  will  beat  for  hours  or  even 
days,  especially  if  it  be  supplied  with 
defibrinated  blood.     The  rhythmic 
beat  depends  to  some  extent  on  the 
existence  in  the  heart  of  ganglia  or 
small  nerve-centres  (fig.  11,  I,  A, 
K).     It  is  quite  true,  however,  that  I 
rhytffm  may  go  on  in' a  portion  of  I 
the  heart  containing  no  ganglioiiic  [ 
structure.     Now  the  heart  receives 
nerves  from  two  sources,  from  the  I 
vagus  or  pneumogastiic  nerve  and  I 
from  fibres  derived  from  tho  spinal  I 
cord  through  the  sympathetic.     If  I 
the  vagus   be   cut   and   the   lower ' 

end  stimulated  by  feeble  induction-  Pip-.1I--The  origins  of  pueumogas- 
shocks,  the  heart  beats  more  slowly, 
and  will  probably  bo  brought  to  a 
stand -still  in  a  dilated  condition. 
A  strong  stimulation  of  the  vagus 
will  invariably  arrest  the  action  of 
the  heart,  and  the  organ  will  bo 
found  dilated,  or,  as  it  is  said,  in  a  state  of  diastole.  On  removal 
of  the  stimulus  the  heart  will  soon  resume  its  beats.  It  is  clear 
that  the  vagus  cannot  be  regarded  as  the  motor  nerve  of  the  heart, 
because,  if  so,  stimulation  would  have  arrested  the  action  of  tho 
heart  in  a  state  of  contraction  or  systole.  Tho  question,  then,  is 
wliether  the  fibres  of  the  vagus  possessing  this  remarkable  power 
of  inhibiting  or  .restraining  the  action  of  tho  heart  terminate  m  tho 
muscular  fibres,  or  in  some  intermediate  structures,  sucli  as  ganglia 
The  influence  of  various  poisons  has  shed  light  on  this  question. 
A  minute  doso  of  atropin  injected  into  the  blood  raraljscs  this 
inhibitory  action.  After  such  a  doso  stimulation  of  the  vagus  is 
followed  by  no  effect,  and  the  heart  beats  as  usual. 

"Again,  in  slight  urari  poisoning  the  Inhibitory  oction  of  th«  vagus  Is  still 
present;  in  the  profounder  stages  It  disappears,  but  even  then  inliibition  may 
DC  obtained  by  applying  the  electrodes  to  the  sinus.  In  order  to  explain  this 
result.  It  has  been  supposed  that  what  we  may  call  the  inhibitorj-  fibres  of  tho 
vagus  terminate  lu  an  inhibitory  mechanism  (prolwbly  ganglionic  in  nature) 
seated  in  the  heart  itself,  and  that  the  urari,  while  iu  largo  doses  it  may 
paraly.sc  the  terminal  fibres  of  tho  vagus,  leaves  this  Inhibitory  mechanism 
intact  and  capable  of  being  thrown  Into  activity  by  a  stilnuhis  applied  directly 
to  tho  sinus.  After  atropin  has  been  given  inmbition  cannot  bo  brought 
about  by  stimulation  either  of  tho  vagus  fibres  or  of  tho  sinus,  or  Indeed  of 
any  jiart  of  the  heart.  Hence  it  Is  Inferred  that  atropin,  unlike  urari,  paralysea 
this  intrinsic  Inhibitory  mechanism.  After  the  application  of  miiscarln  or 
piloearpin  tho  heart  stops  bctiting,  and  remains  In  diastole  In  perfect  stand- 
still.  Its  api>«aranco  is  then  exacUy  that  of  a  heart  Inhibited  by  profotmd  and 
lasting  vagus  stimulation.  Tliis  eflect  Is  not  hintlrred  by  urmrl.  Tlie  applica- 
tion, gowover,  of  a  small  dose  of  atropin  nt  oneo  restores  the  Ivat  Tlicte 
facta  are  Inteq^reted  os  meaning  that  muscariu  (or  piloearpin)  stimulates  or 
excites  the  Inhibitory  apparatus  spoken  of  al>ovc,  which  atropin  panilysca  or 
places  hori  dt  combat"  (I-ost^r,  Ttxt-tiook  of  J'ftysiology,  4tll  ed.,  p.  18(3). 

Thus  physiologists  arc  satisfied  that,  when  tho  vagus  is  stimulated, 
currents  of  nerve-energy  pass  along  its  fibres  to  some  of  the  intrinsic 
ganglia  of  the  heart  and  inhibit  or  restrain  those,  so  that  tho  heart 
beats  more  slowly  or  is  arrested  altogether.  But  tho  centres  in  tho 
heart  may  "also  be  stimulated.  After  division  of  both  vagi  in  a 
mammal,  say  a  rabbit,  tho  heart's  beat  may  be  quickened  or  acceler- 
ated by  stimulation  of  tho  cervicol  spinal  cord.  Fibres  having  this 
power  of  accelerating  tho  action  of  tho  heart  bavo  been  traced  from 


MEDULLA.., 

'T— --V-, 

(    PN-G  )                 /'■  1     SYM  j  ; 

,     ■ 

(,'VASO    Y 

t,     , 

[uoioRj 

ii  .''•' 

if  /; 

CI  •-  \ 
O     '  ' 

P'i 

.4/^ 

*  ,'     * 
'          1      o 

1      •     ^• 

•  1,*  o 

1.'  ? 

•  . 

1)  ^v/ 

I'    Ot 

(k.. 

^ 

/c'/ 

■V 

HEARTS 

"f 

trie  and  vaso-inotor  systems  are  in 
medulla,  that  of  the  sj*ninathetic 
in  npper  portion  of  com.  The 
arrows  indicate  direction  of  nerve- 
currents.  In  the  heart  R  represents 
reflex  centre.  I  an  inhibitory 
centre,  and  A  an  accelerating 
centre. 


-30 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[nervous 


the  '•ervical  spinal  ccnl  through  Iho  last  conical  ami  first  thoracic 
ganglia  of  the  sympatlintic.  Stimulation  of  thcse^arcclcratoi-  nerves 
fcauses  a  quickening  of  the. heart's  Ijeat,  in  which,  however,  "what 
is  gained  in  rate  is  lost  in  force '"  (Foster).  They  are  referred  to 
nere  as  showing  anotlier  kind  of  nervous  action,  quite  dillerent  from 
Inhibition.  Thus  any  nerve-centre  concerned  in  reflex  movements 
may  have,  by  impulses  reaching  it  from  the  ueriphery,  its  action 
inhibited  or  restrained  or  accelerated. 

Influence  of  Nerves  on  Blood- Fcsscls. — If  the  sympathetic  nerve 
be  divided  in  the  neck,  there  is  a  dilatation  of  the  vessels  and  an 
(increase  of  temperature  on  the  same  side  ;  but  irritation  by  weak 
induction -currents  of  the  cephalic  end  will  cause  the  vessels  to 
fontract  and  the  temperature  to  fall.  In  tjie  sympathetic,  there- 
fore, there  are  nerve-tibres  which  influence  the  contractile  coats  of 
the  blood-vesseh.  These  fibres,  called  "vaso-motor,"  originate 
Ij-om  a  vaso-motor  centre  in  the  medulla  oblongata  between  the 
point  of  the  calamus  scriptorius  and  the  lower  border  of  the  corpora 
quadrigemina,  in  the  floor  of  the  fourth  ventricle.  From  this  chief 
vaso-motor  centre  nervous  influences  emanate  which  tend  to  keep 
the  smaller  vessels  in  a  more  or  less  contracted  condition.  If  it 
be  injured,  paralysed,  or  destroyed  there  is  at  once  great  dilatation 
of  the  vessels,  more  especially  those  in  the  abdominal  cavity,  and 
the  blood  collects  in  these  dilated  ^(essels.  This  of  course  dimi- 
nishes the  arterial  pressure  in  the  larger  vessels.  Consequently, 
by  observations  on  blood -pressure,  it  has  been  found  possible  to 
study  the  conditions  of  vaso-motor  action.  By  connecting  a  kymo- 
graph (a  recording  manometer)  with  a  large  vessel,  say  the  carotid, 
observing  for  a  time  the  mean  blood  -  pressure,  and  afterwards 
injuring  the  supposed  vaso-motor  centre,  Ludwig  and  his  pupil 
Ovvsjannikoff  at  once  observed  an  enormous  fall  of  blood-pressure, 
to  be  explained  by  the  paralysis  of  the  smaller  and  a  consequent 
emptying  of  the  larger  vessels. 

The  vaso-motor  centre  may  bo  influenced — that  is,  inhibited,  or  possibly 
strengthened — by  impulses  coming  from  the  periphery.  Such  impulses  may 
be  sent  to  the  centre  along  any  sensory  nerve,  but  in  1S66  Cyon  and  Ludwig 
discovered  a'  nerve  whicti  apparently  exercises  this  function  to  a  remarkable 
extent.  In  the  rabbit  it  originates  by  two  roots  from  the  superior  laryn- 
geal aud  fi-om  the  vagus.  Stimulation  of  the  distal  end  of  this  nerve  pro- 
daces  no  effect,  but  stimulation  of  the  cephalic  end  causes  at  once  a  greit  fall 
of  blood- pressure  in  the  arterial  system  and  a  diminution  in  the  frequency 
of  the  pnise.  As  this  nerve,  therefore,  inhibits,  restrains,  or  depresses  the 
activity  of  tlie  vaso-motor  centre  it  has  received  the  name  of  the  "  depressor 
nerve  of  Cyon  and  Ludwig."  It  appears  to  influence  chiefly  tlie  vaso-motor 
onangements  of  the  abdomen  and  lower  extremities.  Thus,  after  section  of 
the  splanchnics,  which  control  the  vessels  of  the  abdominal  viscera,  it  is  said 
that  excitation  of  the  depressor  does  not  produce  nearly  the  same  diminution 
of  pressure  in  the  carotid  vessels.  By  the  influence  of  the  depi-essor  a  balance  is 
kept  up  between  the  central  and  the  peripheric  circulations.  Imagine  the  heart 
to  be  pumping  blood  tiirough  the  vessels.  If  from  some  cause  the  smaller  vessels 
become  constricted  so  as  to  offer  gre.ater  resistance  to  the  passage  of  the  blood, 
the  ai'terial  pressure  in  the  larger  vessels  ia  increased,  and  the  heart  has  more 
*ork  to  do  to  overcome  this  resistance.  Wlien  the  resistance  reached  a  certain 
»mount~the  heart  would  be  in  danger  of  exhaustion  in  endeavouring  to  over- 
come it.  But  by  the  depressor  this  danger  is  removed,  .is  an  influence  may 
pass  from  the  heart  along  the  fibres  of  the  depressor  to  the  vaso-motor  centre, 
the  effect  of  which  is  to  inhibit  the  activity  of  this  centre,  and  thus  allow  the 
smaller  vessels  to  dilate.  When  this  occurs,  either  locally,  as  in  the  abdominal 
region,  or  generally,  tli9  result  is  a  depletion  of  the  larger  vessels,  a  consequent 
fafl  of  pressure  in  them,  and  therefore  less  resistance  to  the  efforts  of  the 
h  Art.  Thus  it  would  appear  that  in  the  heart  itself  there  is  an  arrangement 
by  which,  to  a  certain  extent,  it  governs  its  own  work,  and  there  is  an  adjust- 
poent  between  the  activity  of  the  heart  and  distribution  of  blood  throughout 
the  body  (see  flg.  11). 

The  vaso-motor  nerves  causing  contraction  of  vessels  have  been 
called  "  vaso-constrictors" ;  but  there  are  other  nerve-fibres  possess- 
ing the  property  of  causing  a  dilatation  instead  of  a  contraction. 
These  have  been  called  "  vaso-dilators."  E-^citation  of  the  chorda- 
lympani  nerve,  for  example,  causes  the  vessels  of  the  sub-maxillary 
gland  to  dilate  (see  vol.  xvii.  p.  672).  Erection,  as  it  occurs  in  the 
benis,  has  long  been  known  to  depend  on  dilatation  of  vessels  and 
Donsequent  increased  afilux  of  blood.  Stimulation  of  the  nerves  of 
the  sacral  plexus  may  cause  erection.  But  how  do  such  nerve- 
fibres  act  ?  It  cannot  be  that  they  directly  cause  relaxatiou  of  the 
muscular  fibres  in  the  walls  of  the  vessels.  These  contain  layers 
of  involuntary  muscular  fibres  in  the  transverse  and  longitudinal 
directions,  and  it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  any  contraction  of 
fibres  in  either  of  these  directions  could  possibly  cause  dilatation 
of  the  vessel.  Probably  the  effect  is  brought  about  by  the  acticm 
of  some  kind  of  Lnhibitoi-y  mechanism.  Ganglia  abound  in  the 
walls  of  the  vessels.  From  these,  fibres  pass  to  and  from  tho 
muscular  elements  of  the  vessel.  Such  ganglia  or  local  reflex 
centres  may  be  supposed  to  be  under  the.  influence  of  two  seta  of 
nerve-fibres:  (1)  accelerating  or  strengthening,  correspomling  to 
the  accelerating  fibres  that  influence  the  heai-t ;  and  (2)  inhibitory, 
like  the  fibres  of  the  vagus  distributed  to  the  heart,  having  the 
power  of  restraining  the  action  of  the  local  ganglia.  _  According 
to  this  view,  the  fibres  in  the  chorda  which  cause  dilatation  of 
the  vessels  of  the  sub  -  maxillary  gland  on  stimulation,  are  vaso- 
-inhibitory  nerves. 

Influence  of  Nerves  on  Glands. — This  has  already  been  described 
nnder  Notkition  (vol  xvii.  p.  672),  but  the  facts  may  be  here 
briefly  summarized.  A  secreting  gland  is  supplied  with  tlsree  sets 
of  nerve-fibres,  —  vaso-constrictor,  vaso-dilator  or  vaso-inhibitory, 
•nd  secretory.     The  first  two  regulate  the  distribution  of  blood  in. 


the  gland,  whilst  the  third  set  directly  afiecls  the  activity  of  tho 
secretijig  cells.  According  to  Heidenhain,  in  addition  to  the  vascu* 
lar  nerves  supplying  a  gland  there  are  seci'etory  and  trophic  nerves. 
"  Stimulation  of  secretoiy  fibres  leads  to  an  increased  flow  of  water, 
stimulation  of  the  trophic  to  an  inci-cascd  secretion  of  specific  sub- 
stances and  to  an  increased  production  of  protoplasm  "  (Gamgee). 
The  vaso-constrictor  fibres  of  a  gland  are  derived  from  the  sympa- 
thetic, and  the  vaso  -  dilator  aud  secretory  from  the  cerebro-suiual 
system. 

Class ijicaiwn  0/  i\erve- Centres. — Aithougn  these  are  usually 
classified  anatomically,  according  to  the  organ  in  which  they  are 
situated,  they  may  also  be  arranged  according  to  their  functions,  as 
follows  :  —  (1)  receptive  centres,  to  which  influences  arrive  which 
may  excite  sensations  (in  gi'ey  matter  of  brain),  or  some  kind  o( 
activity  not  associated  with  consciousness  (reflex  centres  of  tho 
cord  and  of  the  brain) ;  (2)  psychical  centres,  connected  with  sensa- 
tion in  the  sense  of  conscious  perception,  emotion,  volition,  and 
intellectual  acts  (in  the  grey  matterof  the  brain) ;  (3)  discharging 
centres,  whence  emanate  influences  which,  according  to  structures 
at  the  other  ends  of  the  nerves  connected  with  them,  may  causa 
movements,  secretions,  or  changes  in  the  calibre  of  vessels  (in  brain 
and  spinal  cord) ;  (4)  inhibiionj  centres,  which  inhib't,  restrain,  or 
arrest  the  actions  of  other  centres. 

B. — Special  Physiology  of  Central  Orgp>\s. 

General  Physiological  Anatoviy.-^The  cential  organs  of  tho 
nervous  S7stem  consist  of  ganglia  or  of  what  is  cal  led  a  "  cerebro- 
spinal axis."  The  anatomy  of  the  latter  is  described  under  ASA- 
TOMY,  and  some  account  of  the  gangUated  cords  in  invertebi'ates 
aud  of  the  rudimentary  nervous  systems  of  the  lower  forms  of 
vertebrates  will  be  found  under  the  articles  Cuu.stacea,  Insect.s, 
Amphibia,  Birds,  Ichthyolocy,  &c.  But,  as  one  of  the  most 
effective  ways  of  obtaining  an  intelligent  conception  of  the  com- 
plicated nervous  system  of  man  and  of  the  higlier  animals  is  to 
trace  its  various  forms  in  the  scale  of  animal  existence,  and  to 
observe  the  close  correspondence  between  complexity  of  structure 
and  complexity  of  function,  a  short  introductory  review  of  its 
comparative  anatomy,  from  the  physiological  side,  will  here  be 
given.  In  the  first  place,  we  find  that  the  different  forms  of 
nervous  systems  may  be  divided  into  (a)  those  consisting  of  ganglia 
or  chains  of  ganglia,  as  found  throughout  the  invertebrates,  and  (t) 
those  having  a  great  axis  of  nervous  matter  forming  a  brain  and 
spinal  cord,  the  cerebro-spinal  axis,  as  seen  in  vertebrates.  ^     ^ 

Comparative  View  of  Nervoxis  System  of  Invertebrates. — In  the'  j,;j,rv(,i,- 
simplest  forms  of  animals  the  protoplasmic  cell  is  the  seat  of  systci.i 
sensation  and  of  motion ;  but  as  the  contractile  or  muscular  of  inv  t 
layers  become  more  marked  sensation  is  relegated  to  the  cells  of  'ebra  » 
the  ectoderm,  or  outer  layer  of  the  body.  As  portions  of  this 
sensory  layer  become  of  higher  value  to  the  organism,  tlieir  protec- 
tion is  accomplished  by  some  of  the  sensory  cells  sinking  into 
the  body  of  the  organism  so  as  to  be  covered  by  less  important 
structures.  The  portions,  originally  of  the  surface,  thus  differen- 
tiated and  protected  become  ganglia,  and  processes  pass  from  them 
on  the  one  hand  to  cells  in  the  periphery,  so  that  they  may  still  be 
influenced  by  external  energies,  and  on  the  other  to  the  contractile 
parts  of  the  organism  by  which  movements  are  accomplished. 
Still  higher  in  the  scale  of  life,  the  ganglia  are  connected  by  inter- 
nuncial  fibres,  and  the  plan  of  the  primitive  nervous  system  bears  a 
relation  to  the  general  type  of  structure  of  the  animal.  Thus  in 
radiate  animals  the  gangliated  cords  show  a  radiated  arrangement, 
and  when  the  animal  form  is  bilateral  and  symmetrical  the  nervous 
arrangements  are  on  the  same  type.  It  is  also  to  be  noted  that  the 
ganglion  specially  connected  with  the  rudimentary  organs  of  sense 
attains  a  size  and  importance  proportionate  to  the  development  of 
the  sense-organs.  The  nerves  of  the  sense-organs  are  chiefly  con- 
nected with  the  supra-a;sophageal  ganglion,  which  thus  may  be 
looked  on  as  a  rudimentary  brain.  When  the  body  of  the  animal 
becomes  more  complicated  by  the  development  of  similar  segments 
5)r  metameres),  we  find  that  by  a  reduplication,  as  it  were,  of  the 
subcesophageal  ganglion  a  ventral  chain  of  ganglia  is  formed,  a  pair 
of  ganglia  for  each  segment,  the  individual  ganglia  being  connected 
by  longitudinal  commissures.  Such  an  arrangement  is  seen  in  the 
ringed  worms  and  in  arthropods.  The  next  step  is  a  fusion  o( 
ganglia  into  masses,  according  to  the  size  and  importance  of  tho 
part  of  the  body  to  be  innervated  (see  vol  vi.  p.  636,  figs.  7  and  9). 

No  trace  of  a  nervous  system  can  be  detected  in  Proto-'oa.  ■"'eScyphopiedii- 
soid  forms  of  Uydrozoa  show  ner^-e-flbres  and  ganglioncells  (Schafer)  in  the 
sub-umbreUa  and  around  the  tentaculo-cysts  (see  vol.  xu.  p.  ooi,  Ag-  IH  «n^ 
in  the  Hydromedusoid  forms  the  nerve-ganglion  cells  form  a  "ng  round  the 
margin  of  the  disk.  In  some  of  the  ^c(ii.o.-oa  (anemones  ic.)  ftisiform  gan- 
KlioSio  cells  united  by  nerve-flbres  are  said  to  exist  (P- «•  f  ""<jn  •  J°  »" 
the  worms  (.Vervits)  the  most  important  central  organs  of  'l"!  "f  ™  ""ll^" 
sre  placed  in  the  anterior  part  of  the  body  near  the  beginning  of  the  »l'"'e"i^ry 
canal.  If  tfiey  have  a  distinct  head  the  nervous  organ  is  m  it  and  supplies 
branches  to  the  sense-organs.  From  thence  nervn-tnink^  radiate  to  the  pen- 
phery  of  tho  body,  often  in  the  form  of  two  longitudinal  trunks  on  the  ventral 
surface.  Frequently  there  is  a  nervous  ring  round  the  oesophagus.  Nerve- 
organs  have  been  found  in  all  the  I'MyhdmhMe!,  Rotatoria,  and  bryo'ca.  'Tha 
Nema'.hilminlhfS  show  a  further  advance.  The  central  organ  is  placed  on  tho 
asophagus,  soriounding  it  as  a  ring,  Jrom  which  nerves  radiate  forvards  aud 


SYSTEM.] 


PHYSIOLOGY 


31 


bttcliwanla.  Often  six  strands  oi  nen-o  run  forwards,  whilst  a  dorsal  and  a 
ventral  trunk  pass  backwards.  The  size  of  thejic  trunks  depends  on  the  length 
of  the  body.  The  cephalic  gan^jlion  is  bilateral  and  is  largely  developed.  In 
the  i/irm/tr»iaand  Annelida  the  cerebral  ganglia  are  connected  by  coniinisdures 
with  a  vontnil  corvj,  whioii,  in  Utrn,  shows  iudividuul  ganglia  connected  by 
coram isiiure;!.  £ach  ganglion  consists  of  two  equa.1  portions  with  a  transverse 
commissure,  .ind  in  tlie  higher  forms  they  are  so  close  as  to  form  almost  a 
single  cord.  It  is  also  evident  that  the  cerebral  ganglia  are  composed  of  several 
ganjElia  fused  to;^ether,  anii  acquire  functional  inipurtanco  as  the  sense-organs 
ar«  moce  highly  developed.  lu  tlie  Kdiinodermata  the  nervous  system  consiats 
of  a  number  of  triuiks  place*!  ventrally  and  having  a  ratlial  arrangt'roent.  Each 
of  these  trunks  corresponds  to  the  ventral  ganglionic  chain  of  the  AnnuUita. 
In  Afterida  (star-tiKhcs)  each  radial  nerve  consists  of  two  liands  tliickened  in 
the  middle,  and  at  Uie  end  there  is  a  swelling  conucctod  with  an  optical  appa- 
ratus plac^  Uiere.  In  the  f-.'c^tnu«(sea-urclun)the  r4ervou3  ring  lies  above  the 
floor  of  the  oral  cavity,  bi^twocn  the  cesophagus  and  the  lips  of  the  ossicles  of 
the  masticatory  apparatua.  From  tliia  ring  lateral  brairches  issue  which  accom- 
pany the  branches  of  the  ambnlacral  vessels.  In  IlolothitroiJa  (sea -cucumbers) 
the  nervous  ring  lies  in  front  and  near  the  uiouth,  and  is  thicker  than  the 
five  nerves  wlucli  it  gives  off,  thus  tliffering  from  the  Astrroida  and  EchiJioUla. 
The  nervous  system  of  the  Arthropotla  resembles  that  oi"  the  Annelida.  There 
Is  a  large  gan^'lion  above  the  cEsophagus,  the  cerebral  ganglion,  united  to  a 
ventral  gangliou  by  two  conuiiissnros  so  as  to  form  a  nervous  ring.  From  the 
ventral  ganglion  a  series  of  ganglia  united  by  commissures  extends  along  the 
ventral  surface  of  the  body.  Tlie  increased  size  of  the  cerebrum  is  the  most 
striking  characteristic,  and  no  doubt  bears  a  relation  to  the  higher  degree  of 
development  of  the  sense-organs,  more  especially  those  of  sight.  In  some 
CruMlacca  the  optic  ner^-es  arise  from  distinct  lobes.  As  pointed  out  by  Qegen- 
bauer,  when  the  optic  organs  are  reduced  or  lost  the  cerebrum  becomes  so 
small  as  to  be  represented  by  nothing  but  a  commissure.  In  the  individuals 
having  a. large  portion  of  tlie  body  composed  of  similar  metameres  tlie  ganglia 
are  regular  in  size,  appearing  in  pairs.  On  the  other  hand,  in  tiie  Thftracostraca 
(crabs,  ic.)  the  anterior  ganglionic  masses  are  fused  into  larger  masses  so  as  to 
correspond  to  the  concrescence  of  the  anterior  raetameres  int^  a  ccphalo- thorax. 
In  the  abdominal  i>ortion  of  the  body,  where  the  metameres  are  small,  distinct, 
and  more  or  less  regular,  the  ganglia  are  also  distinct  and  in  pairs.  In  the 
Frotracheata  (FerLput\L/)  the  nervous  system  is  simpler,  and  consists  of  the 
CBSOphagcal  collar  witli  a  double  ventral  cord  having  no  ganglia  or  swellings  on 
It,  altlmugh  nerve-celU  are  distributed  through  it.  In  the  Myriapoda  there  is  a 
well-marked  ventral  cord,  with  ganglia  corresponding  to  the  metameres.  In  the 
Arachnitla  the  ventral  ganglia  are  olten  reduced  in  number  and  fused.  They  are 
characterized  by  the  close  connexion  between  the  cerebral  ganglia  and  the 
ventral  cord,  owing  to  the  extreme  shortness  of  the  commissures  (Gegenbauer). 
In  the  Scorpions  the  nervous  system  is  richly  segmented,  and  remarkable  for 
the  large  size  of  the  ganglion  giving  off  the  pedal  nerves.  The  Spiders  ha\e 
a  single  large  ganglion  In  the  cephalo- thorax,  no  doubt  consisting  of  several 
ganglia.  In  the  -•I'-ariiw (mites)  the  cerebral  ganglion  is  extremely  small,  and  ttie 
other  ganglia  are  fused  so  as  to  form  one  single  mass,  giving  oJf  nerves  all  round. 
These  minute  animals  show  a  remarkable  degree  of  concentration  of  the 
nervous  system.  In  Ivsrcta  (see  fig. 
12)  the  ventral  conl  traverses  the 
whole  length  of  the  body,  the 
ganglia  being  at  equal  disUinces, 
and  all  united  by  commissures.  A 
TTiis  condition  is  well  seen  in  the 
larval  condition,  and  is  like  the 
permaneut  state  of  the  Myriapoda. 
when  the  insect  posses  into  the 
adult  conditioti  changes  occur,  con- 
aiatrng  essentially  of  tlie  fusion  of 
ganglia  and  a  shortening  of  the  com- 
missures. The  cer'-diml  gringlion  is 
composed  primitively  of  three  pairs, 
and  in  most  cases  does  r.ot  unite  Fio.  12.— Typical  fonns  of  nen'ous  system 
with  the  rest  of  the  ventral  cord,  iu  invertebrates.  A,  in  Srr;>H/a,a  marine 
annelid ;  a,  cejdialic  ganglion.  IJ,  in  a 
crab;  a,  ceidialic  ganglion;  ft,  ganglia 
fused  under  cephalo -thorax.  0,  in  a 
white  ant  {Termes) ;  a,  cephalic  gangliou. 
(Gegenbauer.) 


«^ 


WJ 


It  shows  licniisphercs  and  a  coni- 
pUc«t«d  structure.  The  lirst  gan- 
Clion  or  tile  ventral  cord  supplies 
the  orgnns  of  the  mouth  ;  the  three 
snccee'lin^'  send  nerves  to  the  ap- 
pendages, feet,  and  win{;s ;  the  re- 
mAinin^;  ganglia  are  small,  except  the  last,  which  supplies  the  generative  organs. 
There  is  great  variety  among  the  Insecla  in  the  number  of  gangliu  in  the  ventral 
conl,  but  '■nnlescence  always  inilic.ites  a  higher  type  of  structure.  Tlie  nervous 
system  of  the  BntchinprnJa  is  formed  of  masses  of  ganglia  near  the  rpsophagus. 
From  these  nerve -ni>res  pass  to  various  parts  of  tlie  body.  There  is  an 
esophageal  ring,  but  tlie  superior  ganglion  is  very  small,  owing  to  the  absence 
of  higher  sensory  organs.  In  Molttt^m  (see  vol.  xvi.  p.  G;i.'i,  lig.  1)  tl)e  nervous 
system  is  di^'ide<l  into  a  superior  ganglionic  mass,  which  lies  above  tlie  com- 
raeocdment  of  the  cesophagus— the  supra-fesophageal  or  cerebral  ganglia— and  a 
voatrbl  mass  which  is  connected  with  the  other  by  commissures,  and  forms 
the  inferior  or  peilal  ganglia.  They  are  both  jaired.  Tlio  cerebral  ganglion  is 
connected  with  the  sense-organs.  Both  the  cerebral  and  the  pedal  ganglionic 
masses  really  consist  of  (.-anglia  fusc-l  together.  This  is  well  sliown  in  some  of 
tlie  lower  forms,  in  which  tlie  pedal  ganglia  are  divided,  and  fonn  an  ananpc- 
meat  like  the  ventral  cord  of  the  Annutata.  The  remarkable  feature  in  tlic 
nervous  system  of  Mi>ltititai  is  the  great  develoi>ment  of  the  visceral  ganglia 
and  nerves  supplying  the  heart,  branchial  apparatus,  and  generative  organs  (see 
vol.  xvi.  p.  013,  tigs,  ir,  18  ;  p.  611.  figs.  20,  21,  22  ;  p.  817,  llgs.  S4,  3i  ;  p.  648, 
llg.  36X  In  the  iMmelUbmyirhin  the  cerebral  ganglia  arc  very  small,  owing  to 
tlie  absence  of  a  head  and  its  aense-org.iiis.  In  some  fonns  they  ore  placed  so 
much  to  the  side  as  to  be  united  by  a  long  commissure.  There  are  also  two 
pedal  ganglia,  of  a  sire  proportional  to  the  degree  of  ilevelopmont  of  the  foot. 
The  visciml  ganglionic  mass  is  often  the  largest.  It  lies  behind  the  posterior 
adductor  muscle,  and  is  united  by  long  cnmnilssures  to  the  eerebml  ganglion 
(vol.  xvi.  p.  an,  ng.  144).  The  nervous  system  of  the  Coslrojw./a  is  remark- 
able for  the  largo  size  of  the  cerebral  ganglia.  In  the  PferoptAn  the  cerebral 
ganglia  either  retain  their  lateral  i.osition  or  approach  the  pedal  ganglia,  with 
which  the  visceral  itanglia  are  also  fused.  The  three  ganglionic  masses,  cerebral, 
pciUU,  and  \isciTal,  are  also  rcprcscnied  in  the  CV;);i<i(oj>n<ia,  but  they  are  more 
approximated  by  the  slmrtening  of  the  commissures.  The  ganglionic  masses 
consequently  are  of  great  size,  and  thev  arc  more  ditl'erentiated  than  any  other 
gangliji  in  invertebrates.  It  is  possible  to  distingiilsh  an  outer  grey  layer, 
formed  of  ganglionie  cells,  surrounding  a  while  layer.  corapoKnU  of  llbrcs  (vol. 
xvi.  p.  8T0,  llgs.  11,!,  114,  ll,'i).  Lastly,  In  riiiiicato  the  nervous  system  is 
doraal,  instead  of  venlnil,  as  in  other  inveitebrales.  Ft  is  developed  from  the 
ectoderm,  or  oiitermnsl  layer  of  the  embryo,  by  an  infol.lingso  as  to  form  at 
Ural  a  groove  and  aflerwarda  a  tnlie.  In  the  Ascidian  larvie  this  nervous  lube 
reaches  throughout  the  length  of  the  tail,  and  we  have  thus  the  remarkable 
condition  of  a4orsaI  Micdian  nerve-conl,  analogous  to  the  eerebro-spinal  syiitem 
of  veitebrati's.  Fnrtlii-r,  einbryc.Ioglsts  are  of  o|iinmn  that  this  rudimentary 
nervous  sj-atem  la  the  true  central  organ,  altlinngh  the  greater  portion  of  it 


disappears  by  the  atrophy  of  the  tail  in  tbe  passage  from  the  larval  to  the  adult 

Btate.    (Gegenbauer.) 

Comparative  View  of  Nervous  Sijatem  of  Vertebrates.  — To  under- 
stand the  structure  of  the  complicated  central  nervous  system  of 
vertebrates,  and  to  appreciate  the  physiological  importance  of  its 
various  parts,  it  is  necessary  to  trace  its  development  in  the  embryo 
and  to  note  the  various  forms  it  presents  from  the  lowest  to  the 
highest  vertebrates.  A  consideration  of  the  embr)'oIogical  and 
morphological  aspects  of  the  subject  clears  up  many  difficult 
problems  which  a  study  of  the  human  nervoHS  system,  by  far  the 
most  complicated  physiological  sys-tem  in  the  body,  fails  to  do,  and 
in  particular  it  gives  an  intelligent  conception  of  its  architecture, 
as  seen  both  in  simple  and  complex  forms.  Tlie  cerebro-spinal  axis 
begins  ill  the  embryo  as  a  tube  of  nervous  matter  produced  by  an 
infolding  of  the  epibkst,  or  outermost  embryonic  layer.  The  tube 
widens  at  its  anterior  end„  and,  by  constrictions  in  its  wall,  three 
primary  cerebral  vesicles  arc  formed,  wliich  afterwards  become  the 
anterior,  middle,  and  posterior  parts  of  the  brain.  In  the  fully- 
developed  condition  the  cavity  of  the  tube  remains  as  the  central 
canal  of  the  spinal  cord  and 
the  ventricles  of  the  brain, 
whilst  the  various  parts  of 
the  brain  and  cord  are  formed 
by  tliickcnings  in  its  walls. 
The  three  cerebral  vesicles 
have  been  called  the  fore- 
brain,  the  mid-brain,  and  the 
hind-brain.  A  protrusion  from 
the  anterior  cerebral  vesicle, 
at  first  single,  but  afterwards 
divided  by  a  median  cleft, 
becomes  the  rudiment  of  the 
cerebral  hemispheres  {prosen- 
cephala), the  cavity  remain- 
ing in  the  adult  coudition 
as  the  lateral  veutiicle  on 
each  side.  From  each  cerebral 
vesicle  another  hollow  process 
protrudes  which  constitutes 
the  olfactory  lobe  (rhincn- 
ccphalon).  What  remains  of 
the  cavity  of  the  first  Vesicle 
becomes  the  third  ventricle 
{lltalamcncephalon). 
outer  and  under  walls  of  the 
prosencephala  a  thickening 
is  fomied  which  becomes 
the  coipo^'a  striata,  two  largo 
bodies  in  the  floor  of  the 
lateral  ventricles  of  the  adult 


Fig.  13. 


Fig.  14. 


Ill  t}|g  Fic.  IS. —  Outline  fh>m  above  of  embryo 
chick  in  first  half  of  the  second  day.  1 
to  2,  three  primary  encephalic  vesicles 
enclosed  in  front  and  at  the  sides  by 
the  cephalic  fold  ;  S,  hinder  extremity  of 
medullary  canal  dilated  into  a  rhomboid 
space  in  which  is  the  primitive  trace ;  4, 
4,  seven  proto- vertebral  somites.  (Quain's 
Aiiatomit.) 
brain,  whilst  the  roof  is  modi-  ^'°-  H  — Embrj'o  of  dog,  more  advanced, 
-    -  seen  from  above  (after  Bischoff).     The 

medullary  canal  is  now  closed  in  :  c,  an- 
terior encephalic  vesicle  ;  0,  primitive 
optic  vesicle :  au,  primitive  auditory 
vesicle,  opposite  tliml  encephalic  vesicle; 
am,  cephalic  fold  of  amnion  ;  ov,  vitelline 
veins  entering  heart  posteriorly  ;  pv, 
proto.vertebral  somites.  (Quain's  Ana- 
tomy,) 


tied  into  the  substance  of  the 
cerebral  hcmi,"ipheres.  Im- 
mediately behind  the  corpora 
striata,  and  in  the  floor  of 
the  thalamencephalon,  two 
similar  thickenings  occur 
which  become  the  optic  tha- 
larni,  a  thin  layer  between  the  two  constituting  the  tsenia  semi- 
eircularli,  and  the  Y-shaped  canal  passing  from  the  cavity  be- 
tween the  thalami  to  the  cavities  m  the  cerebral  hemispheres 
(lateral  ventricles)  is  the  foramen  of  Monro.  The  floor  of  the 
third  ventricle  is  produced  into  a  conical  process,  the  infitndi- 
Inthim,  at  the  blind  end  of  which  is  the  ]iituitary  boily,  or  Ai//>o- 
physis  cerebri.  The  roof  of  this  ventricle  is  very  thin,  and  in  con- 
nexion with  it  is  developed  the  pineal  gland,  or  epipliysis  cerebri. 
Transverse  fibres  pass  from  the  one  corpus  striatum  to  the  others, 
constituting  the  while  commissure,  whilst  the  two  o]itic  thalami  aro 
connected  by  two  grey  commissures.  In  mammals  the  two  cerebral 
hemispheres  are  connected  by  a  largo  and  inijiortant  set  of  com- 
missural fibres,  forming  the  corpus  eallosum.  In  addition  there  aro 
certain  sets  of  longitudinal  comiiii,s.sunil  fibres.  Thus  two  sets  of 
fibres  arise  from  the  floor  of  the  third  ventricle,  arch  upwards,  and 
form  the  ante  ior  pillars  of  tlie  fornix.  These  aro  continued  over 
the  roof  of  the  third  ventricle  and  run  backwards,  constituting  the 
body  cf  Uie  fornix.  Behind  this  the  bands  diverge  so  as  to  form 
the  posterior  pillars  of  the  fornix..  In  the  higher  vertebrates  the 
upper  lip  of  the  foramen  of  Monro  thickens,  and  becomes  converted 
into  a  buiiillo  of  longitudinol  lihrcs,  which  is  continuous  anteriorly 
with  the  anterior  pillars  of  the  fornix.  These  are  continued  back 
between  the  inner  boundary  of  the  cerebral  hemisphere  and  the 
margin  of  the  corpora  striaLi  nnd  optic  thalami,  and  project  iiito 
the  l.Tternl  ventricle,  forming  the  hippocampus  major.  As  in  highly- 
formed  brains  the  corpus  eallosum  po».ses  across  considerably  above 
the  level  of  the  fornix,  a  portion  of  the  inner  wall  of  the  hemisiiliero 
on  eoch  side  and  a  spiwe  between  arc  intercepted.  The  two  inner 
walls  constitute  th«  septum  lueiduvi,  and  the  space  the  cavity  o( 


32 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[NEBTO^. 


the  fifth  ventricle.  By  a  thiclcenins  of  the  floor  of  the  middle 
cerebral  vesicle  {mesencephalon)  two  large  bundles  of  longitudinal 
fibres,  the  crura  cerebri,  are  formed,  whust  its  roof  is  modified  into 
the  optic  lobes,  corpora  bigcmina  or  corpora  gicadrigemina.  The 
cavity,  reduced  to  a  mere  tube,  is  the  iter  a  teriio  ad  quarlum  xcn- 
triculiim,  or  the  atjuediict  of  Sylvius.  The  third  cerebral  vesicle, 
mylenceplialon,  undergoes  less  modification  than  the  others.  The 
upper  wall  is  exceedingly  thin  before  the  cerebellum  so  as  to  form 
a  lamina,  the  valve  of  Vieussens,  whilst  the  part  behind  is  covered 
only  by  membrane,  and  opens  into  the  posterior  subarachnoid  space. 
The  cerebellum  makes  its  appearance  as  a  thin  medullary  lamina, 
forming  an  arch  behind  the  corpora  quadrigemina  across  the  wide 
primitive  medullary  tube.  The  portion  forming  cerebellum,  pons 
Varolii,  and  the  anterior  part  of  the  fourth  ventricle  is  termed  the 
cpencepkalon,  whilst  the  remaining  portion,  forming  the  medulla 
oblongata  and  fourth  ventricle,  is  the  metcnccphalon.  These  facts 
are  briefly  summarized  as  follows  (Quain,  vol.  ii.  p.  828). 

(  Cerebral     hemispheres,  "^  corpora 

/a.  Prosencephalon)      striata,  corpus  callosuni,  fornix, 
—Fore-brain,    j     lateral  ventricles,  olfactory  bulb 
I.  Anterior  cerebral!  (     (rhinencephalon). 

vesicle.  '  ,  6.  Thalamenceph-   (  Optic  thalanii,  pineal  gland,  pitui- 

alon  —  Inter-  <     tary  body,  third  ventricle,  optic 

l^        brain.  (     nerve  (primarily). 

U.  Mesencephalon  l^rir'a^.eduXfs^lJLT  o^Uo 
\         -MiJ-brain.     |     neA-e  (secondarily), 
/"(f.  Epencephalon    J  Cerebellum,  pons  Varolii,  anterior 
S.  Fosterior  primary)         —Hind-brain.  \     part  of  the  fourth  ventricle. 

vesicle.  J  e.  Metencephalon   j  Medulla    oblongata,    fourth   ven- 

(        — After-bi-ain.    (     tricle,  auditory  nerve. 

The  general  architecture  of  the  brain  considered  in  this  way  will 
bo  understood  by  the  diagram  in  fig.  15,  whilst  details  as  to  the 


2.  Middle  cerebral 
vesicle. 


VIr-2n 


Fio.  15.— Diagrammatic  longitudinal  and  vertical  section  of  a  vertebrate  brain. 
The  lamina  terir.inalis  is  represented  by  the  strong  blacii  line  between  f.l/ 
and  3.  ^^>,  luid-brain,  what  lies  in  front  of  this  being  the  fore-brain,  and  what 
lies  behind  the  hind-brain  ;  01/,  the  olfactory  lobes  ;  Htiip,  the  hemispheres  ; 
ThE,  the  thalamencephalon  ;  Pn,  the  pineal  gland  ;  Py,  the  pituitary  body  ; 
FM,  the  foramen  of  Monro  ;  CS,  the  corpus  striatum ;  Tb,  the  optic  thalamus  ; 
CQ,  the  corpora  quadrigemina;  C(7,  the  crura  cerebri ;  C6,  the  cerebellum;  PV, 
the  pons  Varolii ;  MO,  the  medulla  oblongata  :  I,  olfactorii ;  II,  optici ;  III, 
point  of  exit  from  the  brain  of  tlie  motores  oculorum  ;  IV,  of  the  pathetici ; 
V,  of  the  abducentes ;  VI-XII,  origins  of  the  other  cerebral  nerves ;  1, 
olfactory  ventricle;  2,  lateral  ventricle;  3,  third  ventricle j  4,  fourth  ven- 
tricle.   (Huxley.) 

exact  anatomy  of  the  human  brain  will  be  found  under  Anatomy 
(vol.  i.  p.  869  sq.). 

The  complex  structure  of  the  brain  in  the  higher  animals  anses 
to  a  large  extent  from  the  great  development  of  the  cerebral  hemi- 
spheres. At  a  very  early  period  these  grow  forward  and  project 
more  and  more  beyond  the  region  of  the  first  primary  vesicle, 
which,  as  has  been  noticed,  never  ad- 
vances farther  forward  than  the  pituitary 
fossa  {lamina  tenninalis) ;  in  expanding 
upwards  they  take  the  place  previously 
occupied  by  the  mid -brain,  and  fill  the 
most  prominent  part  of  the  head  ;  and 
by  a  downward  and  lateral  enlargement 


Fio.  16. — Surface  of  feetal  brain  at  six  months  (from  R.  Wagner).  This  figure 
is  intended  to  show  tlie  commencement  of  formation  of  the  principal  fissures 
and  convolutions.  A,  from  above  ;  B,  from  left  side.  F,  frontal  lobe  ;  p, 
parietal ;  0,  occipital ;  T,  temporal  ;  a,  a.  a,  slight  appearance  of  several 
frontal  convolutions  ;  s,  Sylvian  fissure  ;  s',  its  anterior  division  ;  within  C, 
central  lobe  or  convolutimis  of  island  of  Reil;  r,  fissure  of  Rolando;  p, 
parieto-occipital  fissure.    (Quain.) 

they  form  the  temporal  lobes.  Thus  frontal,'parietal,~and 'teni^ 
aoral  lobes  come  to  be  distinguishable,  and  somewhat  later,  by  a 
ferlhcr  increase  posteriorly,   the  hindmost  lobes  constitute  _  the 


occipital  lobes,  and  the  cerebrum  at  last  covers  completely  all  the 
lower  parts  of  the  brain.  The  hemispheres,  therefore,  which  are 
small  in  the  early  embryo  of  all  animals,  and  in  adult  fishes  perma- 
nently, attain  so  large  a  size  in  man  and  in  the  higher  animals  as 
to  conceal  all  the  other  purts.  Whilst  this  general  development  is 
going  on  the  layer  of  givy  matter  on  the  surface  of  the  hemispheres 
increases  to  such  an  extent  as  to  throw  the  surface  into  folds  or  con- 
volutions. The  upper  surface  of  the  hemispheres  is  at  first  smooth 
(see  fig.  16).  The  first  appearance  of  division  into  lobes  is  that  of 
a  blunt  notch  between  the  frontal  and  temporal  parts  below,  in 
what  afterwards  becomes  the  Sylvian  fissure.  In  the  fourth  and 
fifth  months  there  appear  the  vertical  fissure,  separating  the  parietal 
and  occipital  lobes,  and  the  transverse  fissure,  called  the  fissure  of 
Rolando,  which  divides  the  frontal  and  parietal  lobes  superiorly,' 
and  which  is  peculiarly  cTiaracteristic  of  the  cerebral  type  of  man 
and  of  the  apes  (Allen  Thomson),  jThen  the  convolutions  appear 
from  the  formation  of  secondaiy  grooves  or  sulci,  for  even  at  birth 
they  are  not  fully  perfected  ;  and  by  the  deepening  of  the  grooves 
and  the  formation  of  subordinate  ones  the  process  goes  on  during 
t)ie  first  years  of  infancy.  For  the  convolutions  see  vol.  i.  p.  873  ; 
also  Phkenolooy,  vol.  xviii.  p.  847.  __     »,^j 

The  evolution  of  the  brain  throughout  the  animal  kingdom  shows  Devfffo; 
a  graduated  series  of  increasing  complication  proceeding  out  of  the  ment  ol 
same  fundamental  type  ;  so  that  the  forms  of  brain  found  perma-  brain  ii 
uently  in  fishes,  amphibians,  reptUes,  birds,  and  in  the  lower  mam-  animal 
mals  are  repetitious  of  those  shown  in  the  stages  of  the  embryonic  series, 
development  of  the  braiu  of  oue  of  the  higher  animals. 

In  the  whole  class  of  fishes  the  brain  retains  throughout  life  more 
or  less  of  the  elenientaiy  form, — that  is,  it  consists  of  a  series  of 
enlargements,  single  or  in 
pairs  (see  fig.  17,  C).  Tlie 
simplest  of  all  forms  is 
in  the  lancelet  {Brandiio- 
stoma),  in  which  ther^e  is 
no  distinction  between 
brain  and  cord,  there  being 
no  anterior  enlargement  to 
form  an  encephalon.  In 
the  Cyclostomata,  as  the 
lampreys,  the  form  is 
nearer  that  of  the  embryo 

when  the  five  fundamental  „,„    ,_   . .„.,  , .  „,  v„<„,  „♦  i„„.. 

.«,,,.  ,     Fio.  17. —  Typical  torms  of  brains  of  lowe* 

parts  ot  the  brain  can  be     vertebrates.    A.  Brain  of  tortoise  (r«(i«io). 

'   ^  '     '  *^     ^^''     1,  olfactory;  2,  cerebral  lobes;   3,  corpora 

striata  ;  4,  oj)tic  lobes  ;  5,  medulla.  Part  of 
the  surface  of  the  cerebral  lobes  has  been 
removed  to  show  the  cavities  in  the  interior, 
tei-med  "the  ventricles."  Immediately  be- 
hind 4,  the  optic  lobes,  is  the  imperfectly- 
developed  cerebellum.  B.  Brain  of  common 
frog  (Eana),  a,  olfactory  ;  b,  cerebral  lobes 
covering  corpora  striata  ;  c,  corpora  quadri- 
gemina, or  optic  lobes ;  d,  cerebellum  (rudi- 
mentary); s,  back  of  medulla,  showing  fossa. 
C.  Braiu  of  gurnard  {Trigta),  I,  olfactory;  2, 
cerebral  lows ;  3,  optic  lobes ;  4,  cerebellum. 


distiugiiished.  At  this 
st;ige  the  cerebrum  and 
cerebellum  are  extremely 
small,  whilst  the  ganglia 
chiefly'developed  are  those 
connected  with  the  organs 
of  sense,  more  especially 
those  of  vision.  In  the 
sharks  and  &ka.tes{Sclachii, 
or  cartilaginous  fishes)  the 
cerebral  portion  is  consi- 
derably larger.  In  osseous  fishes  {Tcleostei)  the  thalamencephalon 
is  so  fused  with  the  mesencephalon  as  to  make  the  homology  of 
the  parts  difiicult  to  trace,  but  both  cerebellum  and  cerebrum  are 
still  small  relatively  to  the  rest  of  the  brain.  The  most  important 
part  of  the  brain  of  a  fish  is  the  part  behind  the  mesencephalon,  as 
from  it  all  the  cerebral  nerves  originate.  Thus  not  only  are  the 
optic  lobes  relatively  important  as  being  the  centres  of  vision,  but 
the  medulla  oblongata  is  usually  very  large.  In  many  sharks  it 
forms  the  largest  part  of  the  brain  (Gegeubauer).  The  spinal 
lobes  of  the  electric  fishes  are  differentiations  of  this  portion  of  th_e 
encephalon. 

In  the  Amphibia  the  hemispheres  are  larger,  and  are  divided  intS 
two  parts  (see  fig.  17,  B).  In  the  Urodela  (siren,  proteu.',  triton, 
newt)  the  mesencephalon  remains  small,  and  consists  of  one  lobe, 
hut  in  the  Anura  (frogs,  toads,  kc. )  there  is  an  advance  in  this  part, 
it  being  divided  into  two.  In  reptiles  there  is  still  an  advance  in 
the  size  of  the  thalamencephalon  and  mesencephalon,  and  the  pros- 
encephalon is  so  large  as  to  pass  backwards  and  overlap  the  thalam- 
encephalon. The  cerebellum  (metencephalon)  is  still  small, 
especially  so  in  Opliidii  (serpents)  and  Saurii  (lizards),  but  in  the 
Chtlonii  (tortoises,  kc.)  and  in  Croeodilini  (crocodiles,  alligators) 
it  is  larger.  In  the  crocodile  there  is  a  transverse  grooving  of  the 
cerebellum,  giving  rise  to  foliation  or  laminar  division,  which  is 
carried  much  farther  in  birds  and  mammals,  indicating  a  greater 
power  of  co-ordination  or  regiilation  cf  movement 

In  birds  (fig.  iS)  the  vesicles  of  the  mid-brain  are  partially  hiddeU 
by  development  of  the  cerebral  hemispheres.  These  are  connected 
by  a  fine  anterior  commissure,  and  they  contain  a  large  amount  of 
ganglionic  matter  bulging  into  the  primitive  cavity  or  ventricles, 
which  are  of  very  small  size.  The  middle  portion  of  the  cerebellum 
shows  a  distinctly  laminated  structure  and  a  differentiation  into 
white  and  grey  matter.  But  there  is  no  pons  Varolii,  nor  corpus 
callosum,  nor  fornix,  nor  hippocampus.     In  the  floor  of  the  laterai 


■SYSTKM.J 


PHYSIOLOGY 


33 


-Typical  brain  of  bird.  A,  view 
fioni  above  ;  B,  lateral  view  of  a  bisected 
brain.  A.— a,  olfactory;  I,  cerebral 
lobes;  c,  optic  or  bigeminal  lobes;  d, 
cerebellum  ;  e,  medulla  oblongata  ;  and 
/,  spinal  cord.  B. — a,  cerebrum  ;  b,  cere* 
bellum  ;  c,  olfactory  ;  rf,  optio  nerves  ;  e, 
medulla  ;  /,  spinal  cord. 


ventricles  may  be  seen  a  ganglionic  ma.ss  corresponding  to  corpus 
striatum  and  optic  thalamus.  The  optic  lobes  are  relatively  large 
and  show  considerable  differen- 
tiation of  structure. 

Jlammals,  even  the  lower 
orders,  not  only  show  a  general 
enlargement  of  the  cerebral 
hemispheres,  but  we  find  a 
commissure,  the  corpus  cal- 
losum,  uniting  them.  Tliis  "/ 
commissure  is  of  small  size,  Fir..  18, 
and  is  confined  to  the  fore 
part  of  the  heniisiiheres  in 
Aro)wtremata{Ormthorhij7uhiis, 
Ephidna)  and  Marsupialia 
(Jcangaroos,  &c.),  and  in  some 
dt  the  Edentata  (ant-eaters, 
sloths,  ic. ),  but  it  gradually  extends  farther  and  farther  back  as 
we  ascend  to  the  higher  orders.  The  chief  changes  thus  occur  in 
the  prosencephalon.  In  the  lower  orders  of  mammals  the  hemi- 
aipheres  are  comparatively  small  and  simple,  and  do  not  present 
any  division  into  convolutions,  and  very  little  distinction  even  of 
lobes.  The  cerebral  hemispheres  gradually  grow  backwards,  cover- 
ing mid-brain,  cerebellum,  and  medulla  oblongata,  as  we  find  in 
tlie  higher  Primates  (monkeys,  apes,- and  man).  There  is  also  a 
general  enlargement  of  the  brain  and  of  the  cranial  cavity.  The 
development  of  a  posterior  lobe  only  takes  place  in  the  higher 
qrders,  and  in  these  also  the  enlargement  of  the  frontal  lobes 
brings  the  front  of  the  cerebrum  more  and  more  over  the  nasal 
Oavities,  causing  a  development  of  forehead.  This  also  e.'splains 
how  the  olfactory  bulbs  in  more  highly-formed  brains  are  thrown 
below  the  frontal  part  of  ihe  hemispheres,  instead  of  originating  at 
their  anterior  borders.  But  the  internal  arrangements  of  the  brain 
also  become  more  complicated.  The  forni.f,  already  described, 
establishes,  by  its  longitudinal  commissural  fibres,  a  connexion 
between  the  anterior  and  posterior  lobes  of  the  cerebrum.  In  the 
Alonotrcinata  and  Marsupialia  the  mid-brain  retains  a  bifid  form, 
constituting  the  optic  lobes,  or  corpora  bigemiua,  but  in  all  higher 
animals  each  Is  divided  into  two  by  a  transverse  groove,  forming 
the  corpora  qiiadrigemina,  of  which  the  anterior  pair  is  the  largest. 
As  we  ascenu  also,  we  find  the  surface  of  the  briin  becoming  more 
and  more  convoluted  (see  figs.  19 
and  20).  This  is  the  general  fact; 
but  whilst  the  convolutions  are 
most  numerous  and  deepest  in  the 
highest  orders  there  is  no  regular 
gradation,  as  in  each  group  there 
are  very  great  variations  in  the 
degree  of  convolution  (Allen  Thom- 
son). Thus  in  the  Monoircmala 
the  Echidna\i^s  a  more  convoluted 
cev<:hr\im\\iAn\\\eOrnithorhynchiis, 
whilst  in  the  Primates  the  brains 
of  the  mLrmoscts  show  a  compara- 
tively smooth  non-convoluted  sur- 
face, in  si  liking  contrast  to  the  ricli 
convolutions  seen  on  the  brains  of    sphere;  s, 

the    higlier    monkeys    and    of  the     floor  of  which  Is  seen  the  corpus 
apes.  -It  is  important  to  note  that  „  "''j'""  ■  f.'  ^"obellum. 
.*  /     11        *    1       t  Fio.  20.— Cats  brain,  showinK  con 

the  cerebellum  also  becomes  more  yoluted  surface.  Contrast  the  form 
and  move  complicated  as  we  ascend 
from  the  lower  to  the  liiglier  groups. 
At  first  merely  a  lamina  or  band,  as 
seen  in  fisiics  ami  amphibia,  it  is  a 
centrally  diircioiitiated  body  in  crocodiles.  In  birds  there  is  an 
indication  of  a  division  into  three  portions,  a  central  and  two 
lateral,  wliilst  tlie  central  is  by  far  the  larger,  the  two  lateral 
being  fuelily  developed.  In  Monotrcmata  the  central  portion  is 
larger  than  the  lateral,  but;  whilst  it  is  larger  in  JIfarsupialin, 
Edentata,  and  Cheiroptera  (bats,  kc),  it  is  clear  that  the  lateral 
portions  are  increasing  in  size  so  as  to  make  tho  disproportion 
But  in  Camivora  (felines,  hyoena,  otter,  bear,  &c. )  and  in 


Fig.  19.  Fig.  20. 

,  Plo.  19,— Rabbit's  brain.  1,  olfac- 
tory :  2,  surface  of  cerebral  hemi- 
sphere ;  3,  lateral  ventriclo,  on  the 


of  the  cerebellum  in  tlio  cat  atid 
the  rabbit.  In  tho  cat  tlie  central 
lobo  Is  small,  whilst  tho  lateral 
lobes  ore  largely  developed. 


le 


Un(julata  (sheep,  ox,  camel,  rhinoceros,  horse)  tho  lateral  lobes, 
or  hemispheres,  of  tho  cerebellum  develop  to  a  much  greater  size  ; 
and  in  most  of  the  Primatci  they  are  much  larger  than  the  median 
portion,  which  is  now  called  tho  worm  or  "vermiform  pro- 
cess." As  regards  the  development  of  tho  spinal  cord  continuous 
with  tho  medulla  oblongata,  it  need  only  bo  said  that  it  does  not 
show  any  marked  peculiai  iliea  of  structure  in  different  animals. 
The  grey  matter  from  which  ncrvo-fibros  originate  and  in  which 
they  end  is  found  in  tho  centre  of  tho  cord,  and  it  is  mo.'it  abund.-vnt 
in  the  regions  associated  with  the  development  of  limbs.  Tho 
white  matter  is  external,  and,  in  the  cords  of  the  higher  animals, 
can  be  differentiated  by  fissures  into  columns;  tho  special  functions 
of  which  will  bo  hereafter  considered.  The  size  of  tho  cord  is 
influenced  by  tho  masses  of  nerves  given  off  from  it,  so  that  it 
attains  its  greatest  thickness  and  dcvelopmeut  in  tho  four  higher 

l'.t-:i 


divisions  of  the  vertebrates  possessing  limbs.  Thus,  too,  are  formed 
cervical,  dorsal,  and  lumbar  enlargements,  contrasting  with  the 
more  uniform  and  ribbon-like  form  of  the  cord  in  fishes,  although 
even  in  these  there  are  special  enlargements  corresponding  to  the 
points  of  exit  of  important  spinal  nerves. 

Size  and  Weight  o/iJrain.— Tlie  gradual  increase  in  the  size  of  the  brain,  as 
compared  with  that  of  the  body,  which  is  observed  &s  we  rise  in  the  animal 
scale,  has  some  intimate  proportional  relation  to  a  corresponding  increase  of 
the  nervous  and  mental  endowments.  Information  as  to  the  size  of  the  brain 
may  be  obtained  by  direct  measurement  of  dimensions  and  weight ;  but  as  this 
is  often  difficult  recourse  may  be  had  to  the  measurement  of  the  capacity  of 
the  cranium,  which  contains,  however,  not  only  tlie  brain  but  its  accessones, 
such  as  membranes  and  blood-vessels.  Details  will  be  found  in  vol.  i.  p.  STd! 
After  considering  the  measurements  of  several  thousand  skulls  made  by  differ- 
ent observers,  the  late  Dr  Allen  Thomson  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  the 
cranial  capacity  is  on  the  whole  greater  among  the  highly-civilized  than  among 
the  savage  races,  and  that  there  is  even  a  very  manifest  difference  to  be  found 
between  persons  of  higher  mental  cultivation  and  acknowledged  ability  and 
those  of  the  uneducated  class  and  of  inferior  intellectual  powers  ;  and  he  states 
further  that  the  amount  of  this  difference  may  be  from  5  to  7J  per  cent,  in 
persons  of  the  same  race,  and  about  double  that  range  in  those  of  different 
n-uies.  Thus,  the  average  adult  brain  of  men  in  Britain  being  taken  at  3  lb,  or, 
more  precisely,  at  49i  oz.  avoir,  fwomen,  about  44  to  44i  oz.),  at  an  average 
specific  gravity  of  1040,  would  give  a  bulk  of  82'5  cubic  inches  of  brain-snb- 
stance ;  10  per  cent,  being  deducted  for  loss  by  membranes,  fluid,  &c.,  the  cranial 
capacity  will  be  about  90  inches.  Conversely,  tlie  weight  of  the  brain  may  be 
calculated  from  the  known  cranial  capacity.  If,  therefore,  the  brain  of  the 
uneducated  class  falls  2-5  oz.  below  the  average,  whilst  that  of  the  more  culti- 
vated persons  rises  to  the  same  amount  above  it,  or  to  62J  oz.,  we  may  regard 
these  brain-sizes  as  corresponding  with  brain-bulks  and  cranial  capacities  of  78 
and  87  cubic  inches,  and  of  88  and  97  cubic  inches  respectively.  The  average 
brain-weight  of  an  Australian  aboriginal  man  is  about  42  oz.,  corresponding  to 
a  brain-bulk  of  about  70  cubic  inches,  and  a  cranial  capacity  of  about  78  cubic 
inches.  There  are,  however,  great  variations  in  all  races.  Thus  the  brain  of 
Cuvier,  the  great  naturalist,  weighed  65  oz.  avoir.,  corresponding  to  a  brain- 
bulk  of  lOS  cubic  inches  and  a  cranial  capacity  of  118  cubic  inches  ;  whilst,  on 
the  other  hand,  in  Europeans  the  brain-weight  has  fallen  as  low  as  82  oz..  or 
a  brain-bulk  of  53  cubic  inches  and  a  cranial  cajiaclty  of  63  cubic  inches.  The 
brains  of  the  anthropoid  apes — gorilla,  chinyianzce,  and  orang — are  all  inferior 
to  man  in  their  dimensions.  In  the  gorilla  the  brain  does  not  attain  more 
than  a  third  of  the  weight  of  the  average  human  brain,  and  in  the  chimpanzee 
and  orang  it  does  not  reach  a  fourth,  so  that  the  ratio  of  brain-weight  to  body- 
weight  in  these  animals  may  be  as  1  to  100,  whilst  in  man  it  ranges  f^om  1  to 
40  to  I  to  50.  It  is  remarkable  that  in  general  among  the  largest  animals  of 
any  group  the  brain  does  not  reach  a  size  proportionate  to  the  greater  magni- 
tude of  the  other  organs  or  of  the  whole  body,  so  that  in  the  smaller  members 
of  the  same  order  a  considerably  greater  proportional  size  of  the  brain  is 
observed.  Thus  in  the  small  marmosets  the  proportion  of  the  brain-weight  to 
tho  body-weight  may  be  1  to  20,  or  more  than  double  the  proportion  in  man. 
Similar  facts  are  brought  out  in  comparing  the  brains  of  cetaceans,  pachyderms, 
dogs,  &c.,  as  shown  in  the  following  table. 

Table  of  comparative  sizes  of  Brain  and  Body. 


Examples. 


Average  European  man 

Child  at  birth 

Chimpanzee   

Marmoset   

Middle-sized  dog 

Small  dog  

Elephant 

Pig    

Wialcl 

Porpoise 


Brain- 
weight  in 
oz.  avoir. 


48(3 

12 

10 


144(9 
6 
96(6 
16 


lb) 


Internal 
cranial 
bulk  In 
cub.  in. 


85  to  83 
22 
19 
h 
6 
44 

soo 
11 

650 
30 


Wliolo  weight 

of,  the  body 

In  th. 


140 

£0 

6  oz. 
86 

7 

6,720  (3  tons) 
94 
134,400(60  tons) 
60 


Proportion 
of  brain  to 
body  welgh^ 


1  to 
1  to 
1  to 
1  to 
1  to 
1  to 
1  to 
1  t 


46 
10 
SO 
18 
164 
45 
747 
!50 


1    U.I  iiJU 

1  to  22,400 
1  to        60 


Although  the  proportion  of  brain-weight  to  body-weight  in  a  male  child  at  birth 
isl  to  10,  yet  60  rapidly  does  the  brain  continue  to  grow  during  the  early  period 
of  childhood  that  by  the  age  of  three  yeara  It  has  attained  more  than  three- 
fourths  of  Its  full  size,  by  the  ago  of  seven  years  it  lias  reached  the  projiortloii 
of  nine-tenths,  and  after  this,  only  by  slow  and  small  gradations,  It  attains  the 
full  size  between  the  ages  of  twenty  and  twenty. five  years. '■'  See  rimrsoixKiT. 
From  this  survey  of  the  comparative  development  of  the  brain 
tho  following  general  conclusions  can  bo  drawn. 

1.  The  first  and  essential  portion  of  tho  corcbro-spinal  axis  is 
tho  portion  forming  the  spinal  cord  and  medulla  oblongata,  inas- 
much as  it  is  found  throngliout  the  whole  range  of  Vcrtcbrato 
existence,  and  is  connected  with  tho  reflex  or  automatic  movementa 
on  wliich  locomotion,  respiration,  and  the  circulation  more  or  less 
depend,  and  with  the  simple  sense  of  contact,  Or  touch,  or  Dress- 
ure.     This  portion  is  necessary  to  mere  existence. 

2.  'When  higher  senses  are  added,  such  as  those  of  t/istc,  smoti, 
hearing,  vision,  portions  of  tho  anterior  part  of  the  ccicbro-spinal 
axis  are  diflerentiatcd  so  as  to  form  centres.  The  curliest  and  most 
important  of  these  senses  (next  to  touch)  is  vision,  hence  the  high 
degree  of  development  of  the  optic  lobes  even  in  tho  lowest  forms  ; 
to  these  are  added  tho  optic  thalami,  which  may  bo  regarded  as  tho 
centres  of  tactile  sensations  involving  appreciation  of  differences  of 
touch  as  to  softness,  smoothness,  hardness,  i;c, ,  requiring  in  tho 
)>criphery  special  terminal  orgniis.  Special  centres  for  lionnng, 
taste,  and  smell  are  not  differentiated.  It  is  remarkable  that  tho 
organs  relating  to  tho  sense  of  smell  are  most  anterior  and  most 
closely  related  with  the  prosencephalon,  indicating,  apparently, 
that  this  sense  is  ouo  of  the  carlic.it  in'appcarancc,  and  probably, 
along  with  rision  and  touch,  ouo  of  tho  most  necessary  to  existence. 


1  The  large  cranial  bulk  In  this  Instance  is  connected  uith  tho  onoraiouj  sin 
of  tho  roota  of  tho  cranial  nerves. 

3  Many  of  tho  facta  of  this  paragraph  ai  to  ilzo  and  weight  of  brain  art 
derived  from  an  unpublished  lecture  by  tho  late  Dr  Allen  Tliomion. 


34 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[NERVOUa 


Vptnai 
asid. 


It  is  equally  striking  that  the  origin  of  the  auditory  nerves  shoifld 
be  placed  so  far  back  as  in  the  medulla  oblongata  and  cerebellum, 
indicating  the  primitive  nature  of  simple  auditory  impressions  and 
their  relation  to  co-ordination  of  movement.  The  sense  of  taste 
originates  in  nerves  springing  from  the  medulla,  and  in  close  con- 
nexion with  those  regulating  tho  movements  of  the  tongue  and 
swallowing. 

3.  When  sensations  of  a  simple  character  are  elaborated  into 
ideas  and  give  rise  to  the  physical  changes  in  some  way  correlated 
to  mental  states,  involving  memory,  emotions,  volitions,  and  intel- 
lectual acts,  a  part  of  the  cerebro-spiual  axis  is  diflVrentiated  for 
>these  functions  in  proportion  to  the  extent  to  wliich  such  mental 
fthenomena  are  manifested  by  the  animal.  Judging  from  the  facts 
obtained  by  comparing  animal  intelligences,  so  far  as  they  can  be 
appreciated  by  us,  we  have  the  right  to  infer  that  in  proportion  to  the 
degree  of  development  in  size  and  complexity  of  structure  so  is  tho 
mental  condition  of  the  animal.  Takiu"  it  broadly,  there  can  be 
no  question  that  the  intelligence  of  a  bird  is  higher  tlian  tliat  of  a 
t^tile,  amphibian,  or  fish,  and  that  the  intelligence  of  the  higher 
mammals,  such  as  one  of  the  Primates,  is  superior  to  that  of  tlie 
lower,  as  one  of  the  /«s<;ciifO!-a  (hedgehog),  or-of  tho  Marsupialia 
(kangaroo) ;  and  along  with  the  higher  intelligence  is  the  more 
complex  brain.  There  are  qualifications  to  this  statement  to  be 
afterwards  alluded  to,  but  they  arise  from  deficient  knowledge  and 
do  not  vitiate  the  main  conclusion.  In  proportion,  therefore,  to 
the  degree  of  development  of  the  prosencephalon  do  we  find  the 
intelligence  of  the  animal,  and  we  may  regard  this  portion  as 
superadded  to  the  cerebro- spinal  axis  as  the  organic  mechanism 
for  such  mental  operations. 

4.  There  is  also  a  correspondence  between  the  degree  of  develop- 
ment of  the  cerebellum  and  the  faculty  of  co-ordination  of  move- 
ment. Movements  of  the  members  of  the  body  may  be  of  a  very 
simple  character,  or  they  may  be  very  complex.  They  may  be  due 
to  the  action  only  of  flexor  and  extensor  muscles,  causing  the  limb 
to  move  almost  in  the  same  plane,  or  they  may  be  assoc'ated  with 
the  action  of  adductor  and  abductor  muscles,  by  which  there  may 
be  many  kinds  of  circular  or  rotatory  movements.  There  is  a  great 
difference  between  the  movements  of  a  fish's  fin,  of  a  bird's  wing, 
of  a  horse's  fore-leg,  and  of  the  arm  of  a  monkey  or  a  man.  In  the 
first  three  they  are  almost  to-and-fro  movements,  unlike  the  deli- 
cate movements  of  flexion,  extension,  pronation,  supination,  and 
prehension  seen  in  the  Utter.  Delicacy  of  movement  of  the  anterior 
limb  reaches  its  highest  condition  in  man.  It  may  be  pvt  generally 
that  simplicity  of  mo\-ement  is  associated  with  an  impfrfectly- 
developed  cerebellum,  whilst  in  anintsls  having  the  power  of  com- 

f>licated  movements,  involving  especially  the  knowledge  of  how  the 
imbs  are  acting  at  any  moment,  and  of  adjustment  of  movement 
in  special  circumstances,  the  cerebellum  is  highly  developed.  From 
this  point  of  view,  the  degree  of  development  of  the  cerebellum  is 
as  characteristic  of  man  as  the  degree  of  development  of  the  cere- 
brum. That  this  is  no  accidental  correspondence  will  be  shown  in 
treating  of  the  functions  of  the  cerebellum. 

Having  reviewed  the  physiological  anatomy  of  the  cerebro-spinal 
system,  an  account  will  now  be  given  of  the  more  special  physio- 
logy of  the  centres  composing  it, — namely,  spinal  cord,  medulla 
oblongata,  pons  Varolii,  basal  ganglia  (including  corpora  striata 
optic  thalami,  and  corpora  quadrigemiua),  cerebellum,  and  hemi- 
spheres of  the  cerebrum. 

1  Spinal  Cord. — The  spinal  cord  is  described  at  vol.  i.  p.  865  sq., 
but  it  is  necessary  here  to  allude  to  a  few  points  of  physiological 
importance.     The  cord  consists  externally  of  white  and  internally  ^ 

of  grey  matter.     The  pf, 

white  matter,  com- 
(losed  of  nerve-fibres, 
forms  a  series  of 
strands  or  columns  in 
each  half  of  the  cord. 
The  gi'ey  matter  in 
the  central  part  of  the 
cord  is  arranged  in 
two  crescentic  masses, 
and  shows  under  the 
'microscope  numerous 
multipolar  cells  con 
necteil  with  nerve- 
fibres   and   imbedded 

in  neuroglia,  or  the  p,g  -2j,_Transvcrse  section  thmugh  s|.inal  cord, 
(special  connective  ^  AF,  antero-meJian,  and  FF,  posterouediaii   fis- 

tissueoftlicnerve-cen-  'sures;  PC,  posterior,  IC,  lateral,  and  /li",  anterior 
columns;  AR,  anterior,  anM  /"R,  posterior  nerve- 
roots  ;  C,  central  canal  of  c'.rd,  with  its  columnar 
epithelial  lining.  The  cres-cenlic  arrangement  of 
'  the  grey  matter  is  shown  by  the  darker-shaded 
portion, 
cells  having  numerous  branches  called  "Delter's  cells."  (See  fig. 
21.)  Those  ncrve-cells  are  arranged  in  definite  p-oups  and  occu)>y 
the  same  relative  position  in  successive  sections,  forming  the  g.in- 
y  ionic  or  vesicular  columns  of  tlie  grey  matter,  as  follows.    (1 )  Cells 


tres.  The  neuroglia 
IS  composed  of  a  kind 
of  aemi-fluid  matrix, 
fibrils,    and    peculiar 


found  along  the  whole  of  the  anterior  part  of  the  anterior  cornua, 
many  of  the  processes  of  the  nerve-cells  being  continuous  with  th« 
nerve-fibres  of  the  anterior  roots  of  the  spinal  nerves.  This  column 
of  nerve-cells  has  been  called  the  "  motor  ganglionic  column,"  or 
the  "v«sicular  column  of  the  anterior  coiiiua."  (2)  A  group  or 
column  of  nerve- cells  at  the  inner  or  mesial  angle  of  the  baso 
of  the  posteiior  cornu,  in  tlio  middle  region  of  the  cord  from  tho 
third  lumbar  to  the  scventli  cerviial  nerve.  Tliis  is  termed  tho 
"posterior  vesicular  column,"  or  "Clarke's  column,"  after  the  late 
ilr  Lockhart  Clarke,  who  did  much  to  unravel  the  intricate  anatomy 
of  the  nerve-centres.  The  nerve-cell  processes  arc  continuous  chiefly 
with  nerve-fibres  coming  from  the  lateral  colunin.  This  vesicular 
column  is  best  developed  where  tho  column  of  the  anterior  cornu 
is  least  so.  (3)  The  third  column  of  nerve-cells  is  in  the  outer- 
most portion  of  the  grey  matter,  midway  between  the  anterior  and 
posterior  cornua.  Development  has  shown  that  at  an  early  period 
the  anterior  horns  are  distinctly  differentiated  from  the  posterior, 
and  that  the  grey  matter  between  them  is  the  last  to  be  formed. 
The  nuclei  in  the  latter  may  be  regarded,  therefore,  as  accessory 
nuclei.  It  has  also  been  observed  by  Fleohsig  and  others  that  the 
white  substance  of  the  cord  also  makes  its  appearance  first  in  th* 
neighbourhood  of  the  anterior  and  posterior  roots.  The  cord  at  a 
very  early  period  consists  almost  entirely  of  grey  matter,  and  tlio 
columns  are  superadded  in  the  anterior  first,  the  posterior  last. 
The  posterior  can  also  be  traced  to  the  cortex  of  the  cerebellum 
(Flechsig). 

The  anterior  and  posterior  roots  of  the  spinal  nerves  arc  attacheJ 


./'."'/ 


along   the    sides 

of  the  cord,  op- 
posite     to"     tho 

corresponding 

cornua    of'  grey 

matter.    Some  of 

the  fibres  of  the 

anterior        roots 

end  in  nerve-cells 

in    the    anterior 

cornu.        Others 

pass  through  the 

grey  matter  and 

cross  to  the  other 

side  of  the  cord 

through  theante- 

rior  commissure, 

a  layer  of  white 

matter     at     the 

bottom     of     the 

anterior    median 

fissure.     A  third 

set  passes  to  the 

anterior  part   of 

the  lateral  col- 
umn and  to  the  P'o>  22.— Diagram  to  illustrate  the  course  t«l<en  liy  11i» 
fibres  of  the  nerve -roots  on  entering  the  spinal  coni 
(Schafer ;  Quain's  Anatomy),  a,  a,  two  funiculi  of  an- 
terior root  of  a  nerve  ;  1,  1,  some  of  their  flbtes  passing 
into  lateral  cells  of  anterior  coinu  ;  1',  1',  others  passing 
into  mesial  cells  of  same  cornu  ;  2,  2,  fibres  I'assing  to 
"-  lateral  column  of  same  side  without  joining  nerve-cells  ; 
3,  3,  fibres  passing  towards  posterior  cornu  ;  4,  4,  fibre* 
passing  across  antenor  commissure,  to  enter  nerve-cella 
in  anterior  cornu  of  other  side  ;  p,  funiculus  of  jiosterior 
root;  pi,  fibres  of  its  external  Or  lateral  tlivision  coming 
through  and  around  gelatinous  substance  of  Rolando  ; 
some  of  these  (5)  are  represented  as  becoming  longi- 
tudinal in  the."  latter,  others  (il,  C)  as  passing  towai-da 

cells  .in 


posterior  cormi. 
The  course  of 
these  fibres  is 
shown  in  fig.  22. 
A  portion  of  the 
fibres  of  the  pos- 
terior roots  ends 
in  the  grey  mat- 
ter on  the  same , 

side,    but    many,  .   ,        ,  -      .  „    . 

^,.^c=,  tr,  iho  rrrov-  anterior  cornu,  either  dnectly  or  after  joining  cells.in 
C1053  10  lUL   b'ey      posterior  cornu,  and  others  (7)  as  rurving  inwards  to- 
matter     on      the,'  \^ards  grey  commissure;  pm,  libres  of  mesial  or  inner 
opposite         side.  '  division,  entering  into  posterior  column  and  then  be^ 
There  is   thus 
decussation       of 
fibres    connected- 
with     both     tho 
anterior  and  the 
posterior     roots. 
The  arrangement 
of  tho  white    or 

fibrous    columns  -  ., 

of  the  cord  is  seen  in  the  table  under  medulla  oblongata  below. 

The  spinal  cord  acts  (1)  as  a  transmitter  of  motor  and  sensory^ 
or  centrifugal  and  centriiietal— impressions  between  the  enctnhalon 
and  the  periphery,  and  (2)  as  a  reflex  centre.  — 

1.  TrannviissioH  of  Motor  and  Sensory  Iiiiprcssivn.i. — Each  spinal 
ncrre,  as  already  mentioned,  is  connected  with  the  spinal  cord  by 
two  roots,  an  ant^-rior  and  a  posterior.  Section  of  a  number  of 
anterior  roots  raises  paralysis  of  rfiotion  of  muscles  on  the  same 
.Mdc  of  the  body,  whilst  irritation  of  the  distal  or  jicriphcral  end  of 
the  divided  roots  cau.es  twitchings  or  tetanus  of  the  muscles. 
Neither  section  nor  irritation  has  any  effect  on  sensation.  Hence 
the  anterior  roots  contain  motor  fibres,  larryiiig  impressions  from 


"-coming  longitudinal ;  p'm',  libres  from  a  posterior  root 
which  had  joined  the  cord  lower  down  and  entered  pos- 

.  terior  column,  tiow  jtassing  into  the  grey  matter  at  root 
of  posterior  cornu.  Of  these,  8  is  represented  as  enter- 
ing Clarke's  column,  9  as  curving  round  this  and  coursing 

'  to  anterior  coinnii'ssui-e,  and  10  as  jiassing  towards  an- 
terior cornu,— the  axis-cylinder  prooes.-es  of  the  cells  of 
Clarke's  column  are  shown  arching  rtjiind  and  takins 
the  direction  of  the  lateral  column  ;  anv/,  anterior  mcdiaD 
fissure;  pm/,  posterior  median  fissure  ;  tc,  centraLcanal; 
sa,  substantia  gelatinosa  of  Rolando. 


BYSTEJI.] 


PHYSIOLOGY 


35 


tlie  conl  outwards.  Again,  section  of  a  nambcr  of  posterior  roots 
is  folloncil  by  loss  of  sciis^itiou  of  a  part  of  the  body  on  tho  same 
side,  and,  if  the  proximal  cuds  of  the  divided  roots — those  next  the 
cord — be  irriLitid,  painful  sensations  are  excited.  The  posterior 
roots,  therefore,  contain  sensory  fibres,  carrying  impressions  into  the 
cord  from  the  periphery.  As  wo  have  seen,  these  roots  are  connected 
with  tlio  grey  and  white  matter  of  the  cord,  and  it  is  practically 
impossible  to  trace  all  their  r.imifications.  Recourse  must  there- 
fore be  had  to  the  evidence  supplied  by  experiment  (cutting,'  or  by 
the  AVallerian  method,  p.  26)  and  by  pathological  observation.  In 
tracing  the  path  of  fibres,  what  may  be  called  the  "developmental 
method"  has  been  pursued.  It  has  been  shown  by  Flechsig  that, 
"if  the  development  of  tho  cord  be  carefully  observed,  the  medul- 
lary substance  of  tho  nerve -fibres  is  formed  later  along  certain 
.tracts  of  tho  white  columns  than  iu  the  rest  of  the  white  matter,  so 
that  in  transverse  sections  of  the  cord  these  tracts  are  easily  dis- 
tinguishable by  their  more  transparent  grey  appearance  "  (Quain, 
vol.  iL  p.  277).  If  the  anterior  columns  be  cut  by  an  incision  ex- 
tending into  the  grey  matter,  leaving  tlio  posterior  columns  intact, 
voluntary  movements  disappear  in  the  parts  below  the  section. 
Again,  section  of  the  posterior  columns  and  grey  matter,  leaving 
the  anterior  uninjured,  enieebles  but  does  not  destroy  the  power 
of  voluntary  movement  below  the  section.  Finally,  section  of  an 
antero-lateral  column  on  one  side  paralyses  voluntary  motion  on 
tho  same  side.  From  these  facts  it  is  inferred  (a)  that  the  motor 
tracts  passing  from  the  brain  to  the  periphery  are  in  the  antero- 
lateral columns,  and  (l>)  that  the  fibres  forming  these  tracts  are 
chiefly  distributed  to  the  same  side  of  the  body.  These  inferences 
are  supported  by  pathological  observation.  In  diseases  where  the 
anterior  horns  of  gi-ey  matter  are  affected  paralysis  ensues,  with 
complete  ilaccidity  of  tho  limbs  ;  and  if,  from  haemorrhage,  soften- 
ing, or  the  pressure  of  tumours,  the  anterior  portion  of  the  cord  be 
irritated  there  are  spasmodic  twitchlngs  of  muscles.  Complete 
transverse  section  of  the  posterior  columns  does  not  abolish  sensi- 
bility in  the  parts  below  ;  but  there  is  a  loss  of  the  power  of 
making  co-ordinated  movements.  Section  of  the  posterior  columns 
and  of  the  antero-lateral  columns,  leaving  only  the  grey  matter  in 
the  centre  of  the  cord  intact,  does  not  abolish  sensibility.  Again, 
section  of  the  antero-lateral  columns  and  of  the  whole  of  the  grey 
matter,  leaving  only  the  posterior  columns  uninjured,  is  followed 
by  complete  loss  of  sensibility  in  the  parts  beneath.  The  inference 
therefore  is  that  sensory  impressions  pass  through  the  giey  matter. 
As  already  .seen,  many  of  the  sensory  fibres  connected  with  the 
posterior  roots  decussate  in  the  grey  matter.  This  explains  some 
of  the  results  obtained  by  Brown-Sequard,  that  hemi-section  of 
the  cord,  involving  the  grey  matter,  enfeebled  sensibility  on  the 
opposite  side  more  and  more  as  tho  section  cut  deeply  into  the  grey 
matter  ;  that  a  vertical  section  in  the  bottom  of  the  posterior 
median  fissure  caused  loss  of  sensibility  on  both  sides  ;  and  that  a 
lateral  section,  whilst  it  caused  loss  of  sensibility  (amesthesia)  on 
the  opposite  side,  was  followed  by  increase  of  sensibility  (hyper- 
lesthesia)  on  the  same  side, — a  curious  fact,  explained  by  Brown- 
Sequard  as  being  due  to  irritation  caused  by  paralysis  of  the  vessels 
of  the  cord  on  the  side  of  tho  section.  It  would  appear  also  that 
tactile  impressions  travel,  for  a  certain  distance  at  all  events,  in 
the  posterior  columns.  This  has  been  inferred  chiefly  from  the  fact 
that  in  certain  cases  of  paralysi.?  involving  the  posterior  columns, 
where  the  sensation  of  touch  was  absent,  the  patient  could  still  feel 
a  painful  sensation,  as  when  a  needle  was  thrust  into  the  skin  ; 
whilst  in  other  cases,  in  which  these  columns  were  not  alTected,  the 
converse  held  good.  In  the  disease  known  as  locomotor  ataxia  (see 
Ataxy  and  P.^TiioLOay,  vol.  xviii.  p.  392)  tho  patient  first  pa-sses 
through  a  period  in  which  there  are  disorders  of  general  sensibility, 
especially  lancinating  pains  in  tho  limbs  and  back.  By  and  by 
there  is  unsteadiness  of  gait  when  the  eyes  aro  closed  or  in  tho  dark, 
ami  to  a  large  extent  the  patient  loses  tho  power  of  co-ordinating 
movement.  Espcci.illy  ho  is  unable  to  judge  of  tho  position  of  tho 
limbs  without  seeing  them  ;  in  other  words,  the  so-called  muscular 
sense  is  enfeebled.  At  last  there  is  a  stage  before  death  in  which 
there  is  almost  complete  paralysis.  A  study  of  this  disease  has 
thrown  mucli  light  on  tho  physiology  of  tho  cord.  It  is  known 
to  bo  caused  by  a  slow  disorganization  or  sclerosis  of  tlio  posterior 
•root-zony,  the  posterior  columns, — slowly  passing  on  to  affect  tho 
columns  of  Goll,  tho  !atcr.al  columns,  and  tno  anterior  grey  horns, 
and  ultimately  involving  the  cord.  The  disordered  sensations  at 
an  early  stage,  the  staggering  gait  nt  a  later,  show  that  the  posterior 
part  of  tho  cord  has  to  do  with  the  transmission  of  sensory  impres- 
sions. The  man  staggers,  not  because  he  is  paralysed  as  regards 
the  power  of  movement,  but  because,  in  consequence  of  the  sensory 
trs'.ts  being  involved,  he  docs  not  receive  those  peripheral  impres-' 
sioHs  which  excito  or  indirectly  regulate  all  well-ordered  movements 
of  locomotion. 

2.  As  a  Keflex  CerUre.  — The  grey  matter  of  tho  lower  cervical, 
dorsal,  and  lumbar  regions  of  the  cord  may  be  regarded  as  composed 
of  reflex  centres  associated  with  the  general  movements  of  tho  body, 
w;hilst  in  tho  upper  cervical  region  thore  aro  more  differentiated 
centres  corresconding  to  special  actions.     The  initial  excitation 


may  commence  in  any  sensory  nerve  ;  the  effect  passes  to  the  cord, 
and  sets  up  changes  in  the  nerve-cells  of  the  grey  matter,  involving 
time,  and  resulting  in  the  transmission  outwards  along  motor  fibres 
of  impulses  which  excite  particular  groups  of  muscles.  Thare  is 
an  exact  co-ordination,  with  a  given  strength  of  stimulus,  between 
certain  areas  of  skin  and  certain  groups  of  muscles,  and  thus 
movements  may  bo  so  purpose-like  as  to  simulate  those  of  a  con- 
scious or  voluntary  character.  Thus  iiTitation  near  the  anus  of  a 
decapitated  frog  will  invariably  cause  movements  of  the  limbs 
towards  the  irritated  point.  The  activity  of  reflex  centres  may 
be  inhibited,  as  already  shown,  by  higher  centres,  or  possibly 
by  ceitain  kinds  of  sensory  impressions  reaching  them  directly 
from  tlie  periphery.  Hence  removal  of  these  higher  centres  is 
followed  by  apparently  increased  reflex  excitability.  Strychnia 
ami  the  alkaloids  of  opium  increase  it,  whilst  aconite,  hydrocyanic 
acid,  ether,  chloral,  and  chloroform  have  an  opposite  elTect.  In 
ceitain  pathological  conditions  also,  as  in  tetanus,  or  in  some 
slow  progressive  diseases  of  the  cord,  reflex  excitability  may  be 
much  increased.  In  tetanus  the  slightest  touch,  a  movement  of 
tlie  bedclothes,  the  closing  of  a  door,  the  vibration  caused  by  a 
footstep,  may  throw  the  patient  into  severe  and  prolonged  con- 
vulsions. The  earlier  formed  ganglionic  cells  are  those  specially 
concerned  in  reflex  acts. 

Special  Tcjlex  centres  have  been  clearly  made  oat  in  the  cord.  (1)  A  eilio- 
spiiint  centre,  between  the  sixth  cervical  and  third  dorsal  nerves,  associated 
with  the  movements  of  the  iris.  The  fibres  controlling  the  radiating  fibres  of 
the  iris,  and  found  in  the  synii>athetic,  originate  liere  (see  Eve).  Hence 
irritation  of  this  region  causes  dilatation  of  the  pupil,  an  effect  not  prodnccd 
if  the  sympathetic  fibres  have  been  divided.  (2)  Acc^erating  centres,  supply- 
ing fibres  to  the  sympathetic  which  ultimately  reach  the  heart,  and  Irritation 
of  these  centres  quickens  the  movements  of  that  organ.  (3)  fl^spira/ory  centres. 
The  movements  of  respiration,  of  a  reflex  character,  involve  the  action  of  many 
thoracic  and  abdominal  muscles.  Section  of  the  cord  above  the  eighth  dorsal 
paralyses  the  abdominal  muscles;  above  the  first  dorsal,  the  iutercostals ; 
above  the  fifth  cervical,  the  serratus  magnus  and  the  pectorals  ;  and  above 
the  fourth  cervical,  by  paralysing  the  phrenics,  it  arrests  the  action  of  the 
diaphragm.  (4)  Genito-spinal  centre.  Tliis  is  in  the  lumbar  region.  IrritatioD 
causes  erection,  die.  ;  destruction  or  disease  is  followed  by  loss  of  virile 
power.  (5)  Ano-spinal  and  vesicuto-spinal  centres.  These,  connected  with  the 
movements  of  the  sphincter  ani  and  of  the  bladder,  exist  in  the  lower  portion 
of  the  dorsal  and  upper  portion  of  the  lumbar  regions.  Disease  or  injury 
involving  these  centres  causes  involuntary  evacuation  of  the  bowel  and  com- 
plete paralysis  of  the  bladder,  with  non-retention  of  urine.  The  bladder  may 
be  full  whilst  the  urine  constantly  escapes  in  small  quantity. 

3.  As  a  Trophic  Centre. — The  ganglion-cells  in  the  anterior 
coruua  undoubtedly  have  a  trophic  or  nutritive  influence  upon 
muscles.  This  has  been  determined  chiefly  on  pathological  evidence 
If  these  cells  undergo  atrophy  or  degenerative  changes,  the  musclee, 
even  though  they  may  be  kept  periodically  in  a  state  of  activity  by 
g.ilvanism,  become  soft  and  fatty  changes  take  place.  There  is 
thus  a  correlation  between  the  nutritive  condition  of  muscle  and 
nerve-centre,  and  influences  aflectin"  the  one  affect  the  other  also. 

It  has  been  supposed  that  tho  cells  in  Clarke's  vesicular  column 
may  form  the  centres  in  visceral  innervation.  They  are  bipolar, 
like  those  in  the  sympathetic,  and  not  multipolar  as  in  the  rest  of 
the  cord,  and  the  columns  are  absent  in  the  lumbar  and  cervical 
enlargements.  The  cells  are  found  where  nerves  come  off  that 
influence  the  viscera,  and  similar  cells  are  found  at  the  roots  of  tho 
vagus  in  the  medulla, — a  nerve  also  mych  concerned  iu  the  innerva- 
tijn  of  viscera. 

inhibition  of  Reflex  Actions. — The  reflex  actions  of  the  spinal 
cord  may  bo  inhibited  or  restrained  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  by 
the  action  of  centres  in  the  encephalon,  so  that  pure  reflex  actions 
only  occur  after  removal  of  the  cerebrum,  or  during  profound  sleep, 
when  the  cerebrum  is  inactive  Thus  a  strong  elTort  of  the  will  may 
restrain  from  scratching  an  irritated  part  of  the  skin,  whilst  the 
same  amount  of  irritation  would  certainly  cau.se  reflex  movements 
if  the  will  were  in  abeyance.  Such  power  of  voluntary  control, 
however,  is  limited  with  respect  to  most  reflex  actions,  whilst  some 
reflex  acts  cannot  be  so  influenced.  Any  movement  that  may  bo 
orginated  by  tho  will  may  be  inhibited  or  restrained  to  a  certain 
extent  when  the  movement  is  of  a  reflex  character  ;  but,  if  tb« 
movement  bo  invariably  involuntary,  it, can  never  bo  inhibited. 
Thus  the  ejaculation  of  semen  cannot  bo  voluntarily  induced,  whilst 
the  reflex  act  once  provoked  cannot  bo  arrested  (Hermann).  That 
these  inhibitions  of  reflex  actions  of  the  cord  depend  on  mechanisms 
in  tho  brain  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  removal  of  tho  biain  is  fol- 
lowed by  an  increase  in  the  reflex  excitability  of  tho  cord,  and  that 
oven  section  of  tho  cord  permits  of  increased  reflex  excitability 
below  the  plane  of  section  (Sctschcnofl').  Further,  after  section  of 
tho  spinal  cord  in  tho  cervical  region,  irritation  of  tho  lower  end 
arrests  reflex  movements  dependent  on  reflex  centres  in  the  'ower 
cervical,  dorsal,  and  lumbar  rtgions  (M'Kendrick). 

Medulla  Oblongata. — This  Is  tho  prolongation  into  the  cranium 
of  the  spinal  cord  so  a.i  to  unite  it  with  the  brain.  Strictly  speak- 
ing, the  medulla  spinalis  and  tho  medulla  oblongata  form  one  organ. 
The  columns  of  wiiito  matter  of  tho  cord  undergo  changes  in  form, 
structure,  and  relative  position  when  they  pass  into  tiio  medulla 
(see  vol.  i.  p.  870).  Without  again  detailing  tho  minute  anatomy, 
it  is  necessary  to  show,  as  in  the  following  tablo,  the  connezioiii 
of  tho  cord  and  oC  tho  medulla  witb  tho  nut  of  th»  Utaifi- 


Speclal 

reflex 

centrev 


Cord  as 
tropkii 
centre. 


Inhibi- 
tion of 
reflex 
actions 


36 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[neevous 


Columns  of 

the  Spinal 

Cor'l. 


V  Dividpcl  into 


(        A. 
PyiamUlal 

tract. 


a.  Lateral,  or  crossed, 
fibres  from  the  pos- 
terior part  of  the 
lateral  column  as 
low  as  the  third 
or  fourth  sacral 
nerves. 

h.  Anterior,  or  un- 
crossed, fibres  from 
the  dorsal  region 
of  the  cord-col- 
nmns  of  Turck,  or 
columns  of  Lock- 
liart  Clarke. 


Continued  in  Medulla 
Oblougata  as 


Decussate  in  anterior  r>'ra-   Cerebrum, 
niids. 


Pass  on  to 


Pasa       under 
jiyraraid     on 
same       side.     1.  Posterior 
and  form       lougitudi 

longitudinal    '.     nalbumUe 
fibres  of  the  \     in  pons, 
reticularis  al-    2.  Tract  of 
ba  in  dorsal       the  fillet. 
]>art   of   me-  | 
sial  area.        ) 


B. 

Cerebellar 
tract. 


.  Cerebellar  tract, 
between  lateral 
pyramidal  tract 
ami  the  outer  sur- 
face of  the  cord  as 
low  as  tlie  second 
or  tliird  lumbar. 


All       the 
antero- 
lateral 
columns 
except 
A  and  6. 


Posterior    . 
column.    "^ 


d.  Princiiml  tract  of 
anterior  column, 
that  is,  the  antero- 
lateral column  less 
the  fibres  in  &.  Mot 
continued  up  — 
probably  commis- 
sural from  one  side 
of  cord  to  the 
other. 

t.  From  anterior  col- 
umn. 


a.  Posterior  white 
column,  or  GoU's 
tract,  from  middle 
of  dorsal  region. 

6.  Posterior  lateral 
column,  between 
posterior  median 
column  and  pos- 
tero-lateral  groove. 


,  FunicuUis  of  Ro- 
lando, between  the 
posterior  lateral 
column  h  and  pos- 
tero-lateral  groove 
higher  up. 


Restiloi-m  body. 


Cerebrum. 


Corpora 
quadri- 
gemina. 


Pa33  below  olivary  bo^  to 
form  part  of  restiform 
body.  Sometimes  called 
the  "band  of  Solly  "—not 
always  pi'eseut. 


Posterior  median  column, 
becoming  the  funiculus 
gracilis,  which,  with  the 
expansion  called  the  clava, 
becomes  the  posterior  py- 
ramids. 


Funiculus  cuneatus,  form- 
ing, with  cerebellar  tract 
from  an  tero-lateral  column, 
the  restiform  body. 


Cerebellum. 


Cerebellum. 


Cerebrum. 


Cerebellum. 


It  is  important  to  note  the  fact  that  each  column  of  the  cord, 
through  the  medulla,  is  thus  connected  both  with  the  cerebrum  and 
With  the  cerebellum.  Development  has  shown  that  the  fibres  of 
the  bundles  which  are  first  formed  develop  a  medullary  sheath  at  a 
time  when  the  fibres  of  the  later-formed  bundles  are  non-medullated. 
,"  When  the  cord  of  a  human  embryo  is  examined  at  the  end  of  the 
fifth  month  it  will  be  found  that  the  pyramidal  fibres  of  the  lateral 
columns,  the  fibres  of  the  columns  of  Turck,  and  of  the  columns  of 
GoU  are  non-medullated  ;  while  the  fibres  of  the  anterior  and  pos- 
terior root-zones  and  the  cerebellar  fibres  of  the  lateral  columns  are 
paeduUated  "  (Ross).  It  would  appear,  therefore,  that  the  latter 
Are  the  more  primitive  struct\ires,  and  that  the  former  are  super- 
kdded  in  the  cords  of  the  higher  animals.  The  grey  matter  of  the 
medulla  is  brokeu  up  by  changes  in  the  distribution  of  the  white 
matter  into  nuclei  or  masses  of  nerve-cells,  instead  of  having  the 
crescentic  form  seen  in  the  spinal  coid.  These  nuclei  are  connected 
With  the  roots  of  important  cranial  nerves,  and  may  be  regarded 
as  corresponding  with  the  anterior  horns  of  grey  matter,  with  the 
posterior  horns,  and  with  the  gx'ey  matter  between  these. 

The  follo\ving  nuclei  can  be  found  :^(1)  the  hypoglossal  nucleus, 
for  the  hypoglossal  nerve,  the  motor  nerve  of  the  tongue  ;  (2)  a 
common  nucleus,  for  a  portion  of  tho  spinal  accessory,  vagus,  and 
glosso -pharyngeal  nerves;  (3)  th.& prhicipal  or  lower axiAitory  nucleus, 
for  thtf  auditory  nerve  ;  (4)  nuclei  for  the  sixth  or  ahduceiit  nerve, 
supplying  the  external  rectus  muscle  of  the  eye  ;  (5)  nucleus  for 
the  fourlh  nerve,  supplying  the-  superior  oblique  muscle  of  the 
eye  ;  (6)  the  facial  nerve,  the  motor  nervepf  the  face  ;  (7)  the  cor- 
pus dcniatitm  of  the  olivary  body,  not  directly  connected  with  the 
roots  of  nerves,  but  containing  nerve-cells.  Some  fibres,  both  of 
the  sensory  and  motor  roots  of  the  ffth  nerve,  originate  also  as  far 
back'  as  the  medulla.  The  third,  fourth,  sixth,  and  hypoglossal 
nerves  belong  to  the  system  of,  anterior  motof  nerves,  related  to 
the  anterior  cornua,  whilst  the  spinal  accessory,  vagus,  glosso- 
pharyngeal, and  fifth  belong  to  the  "mixed  lateral  system," — that 
is,  they  are  related  to  the  posterior  cornua  and  intermediate  grey 
matter. 
'  Like  the  spinal  cord,  the  medidla  may  be  regarded  as  containing 


tracts  for  sensory  and  motor  transmission,  and  as  coustitutiag  a 
series  of  reflex  centres  for  special  movements. 

1.  As  a  Condttctor  of  Motor  and  Sensory  Impressions.  —  Inasmuch 
also,  as  such  movements  as  those  of  the  circulation,  respiration, 
and  vaso- motor  action  arc  necessary  to  life,  destruction  of  the 
medulla  causes  almost  instant  death.  Motor  fibres  coming  from 
the  brain  above  decussate  in  the  anterior  pyramids  and  then  run 
down  the  lateral  columns  of  the  cord,  issuing  to  the  muscles  by 
the  anterior  roots  of  tho  spinal  nerves.  Hence,  whilst  section  of 
an  antero-lateral  column  of  the  cord  will  cause  paralysis  of  motion 
on  the  same  side,  scctit)n  of  an  anterior  pyramid  above  tho  decus- 
sation causes  paralysis  of  motion  on  the  opposite  side.  But  fibres 
carrying  sensory  impressions  also  decussate  in  the  grey  matter  at 
the  bottom  of  the  posterior  median  fissure  of  the  cord.  It  follows, 
therefore,  that  disease,  such  as  rupture  of  a  vessel  causing  a  clot  in 
the  brain,  say  iu  the  left  corpus  striatum  and  left  optic  thalamus, 
causes  paralysis  both  of  motion  and  of  sensation  on  the  opposite 
side, — that  is,  in  the  case  supposed,  there  would  be  right  hemiplegia 
The  path  of  sensory  impressions  is  probably  in  the  grey  matter 
but  the  precise  course  of  sensory  fibres  has  not  been  traced. 

2.  As  a  Reflex  Centre. — Numerous  special  centres  have  been  re- 
ferred to  the  medulla  oblongata. 

(1)  i>sjjirn(ori/ centres,  two  in  niimber,  expiratory  and  inspiratory,  connected 
with  the  roots  of  the  pneumogastric  nen-es.  Destruction  at  once  causes  cessa- 
tion of  respiratory  movements.  (2)  Vaso-viotor  centre,  regulating  the  calibre  of 
the  smaller  blood-vessels  throughout  the  body  (see  p.  30).  (3)  CanJiac  centres, 
probably  two  in  number^ne  accelerating,  asbociated  with  the  BympathetJc  ; 
the  other  inhibitory,  connected  with  the  pneumogastric  (see  p.  29).  {^ 
Centres  for  deglutition,  associated  with  the  sensory  and  motor  nerves  involved 
in  this  process  (see  Xctrition,  vol.  atvii.  p.  670)  (5)  Centre  for  voice,  regu- 
lating to  some  extent,  throtigh  the  stemo-cleido-mastoid  muscle,  the  emission 
of  air  through  the  glottis  in  expiration  and  phonation.  (6)  Centre  influencing 
glycogenesi'i,  probably  by  the  action  of  the  vaso -motor  centre  on  the  blood- 
vessels of  the  liver  (see  Nutrition,  vol.  xvii.  p.  68^.  (7)  Centre  directly  in- 
fluencing salivary  secretion,  from  which  originate  those  tibres  of  the  facial, 
forming  the  chonla  tympani  and  lesser  superlicial  petrosal,  distributed  to  the 
salivary  glands  (see  Nutbitioh,  vol.  xvii.  p.  672).  (8)  Centre  for  the  motor 
Jibrcs  s^ipplying  the  face  aiid  muscles  of  mastication.  Tliese  exist  in  the  facial 
for  the  muscles  of  the  face  and  in  the  motor  portion  of  the  fifth  for  the  muscles 
of  mastication.  Further,  the  medulla  receives  nervous  influences  from  the 
higher  centres,  by  which  all  the  centres  above  enumerated  may  be  more  or 
less  influenced.     .. 

Pons  Varolii. — The  pons  Varolii  is  above  and  in  front  of  the 
medulla  oblongata,  and  between  the  Tremispheres  of  the  cerebellum. 
It  consists  of  fibres  passing  in  two  directions,  viz.,  longitudinally, 
connecting  the  brain  above  i^*ith  the  medulla  and  cord  below  ;  and 
transversely,  connecting  the  lateral  hemispheres  of  the  cerebellum, 
thus  forming  the  middle 
peduncles  of  that  organ.  Its 
general  position  and  appear- 
ance are  seen  in  fig.  23. 
Mixed  up  with  these  fibres 
are  various  nuclei  of  grey 
matter  connected  with  the 
roots  of  cranial  nerves.  .The 
most  important  of  these 
nuclei  are  — (1)  the  nucleus 
of  the  facial  nerve  ;  (2)  the 
motor  nucleus  of  the  fifth 
nerve  ;  (3)  the  upper  sensory 
nucleus  of  the  fifth  nerve  ; 
(4)  the  inner  or  chief  nucleus 
of  the  auditory  nerve ;  (5) 
the  outer  or  superior  nucleus 
of  the  auditory  nerve  ;  f6) 
the  accessory  nucleus  of  the 
auditory  nerve  ;  (7)  the  nu- 
cleus of  the  sixth  nerve.  It 
will  be  observed  that  several 
of  these  nerves  are  also  con-  _ 

nected  with  nuclei  in  theFio.  23.— Section  of  medulla  oblongata  anil 
medulla  oblongata.  Like  ,Pons  to  show  the  course  of  fibres,  a  super- 
.  1  J        J    „  J    n       Al,        ncial,  and  a ,  deep  transverse  fibres  of  pons ; 

the  cord  and  medulla,  tho  6,(,_  anterior  pyramids  ascending  at  6' 
pons  is  to  be  regarded  as  through  pons;  c,  c,  olivary  bodies;  c',  oli- 
conductor  of  impressions  vary  fasciculus  in  pons;  d.rf.  anterior 
colunms  of  cord  ;  e,  inner  part  of  right 
column  joining  anterior  pyramid  ;  /,  outer 
part  going  to  olivary  fasciculus  ;  g,  lateral 
column  of  cord  ;  /(,  the  part  which  decus- 
sates at  fc,  the  decussation  of  the  pyramids  ; 
?,  the  part  which  joins  the  restiform  body; 
m,  that  which  forms  Jthe  fasciculus  teres; 
TO,  arciform  fibres.  1  and  2,  sensory  and 
motor  roots  of  the  fifth  nerve;  3,  sixth 
nerve ;  4,  portio  dura ;  5,  portio  inter- 
media ;  6,  portio  mollis  of  the  seventh 
nerve;  7,  glosso  -  pharyngeal ;  8,  pneumo- 
gastric; 9,  spinal  accessory;  10,  hypo- 
glossal nerve. 

limbs  on  the  opposite  side  if  the  disease  has  affected  the  facial 
before  its '  decussation  in  the  pons.  Usually  in  cases  of  paralysis 
of  one  side  (hemiplegia)  from  a  clot  or  disorganization  in  one  corpus 
striatum  the  paralysis  of  the  face  is  on  the  same  side  as  that  of  the 
limbs.     In  diseases  of  the  pons  loss  of  sensibility  is  a  much  more 


MedA^la 
centrb«' 


Pon» 
Va.-oia 


and  probably  also  as  a  reflex 
centre.  Motor  transmission 
occurs  chiefly  in  the  an- 
terior part.  As  the  fibres  of 
the  facial  nerve  decussate  in 
the  pons,  and  then  caixy  in- 
fluences outwards,  unilateral 
injury  or  disease  of  the  pons 
may  cause  paralysis  of  the 
face  on  the  same  side  as  the 
disease,  and  paralysis  of  the 


SYSTEM.] 


PHYSIOLOGY 


37 


Tare  result  than  loss  of  motion,  and  is  always  on  the  opposite  side. 
Accoiding  to  lirown-Seiiuaid,  tactile,  thermal,  and  painful  impres- 
sions pass  through  the  central  part  of  the  pons.  The  numerous 
centres  in  the  pons  are  associated  in  complex  refle.^  movements. 
Nothnagel  has  described  it  as  a  convulsive  centre,  because  irritation 
caused  severe  cramps,  but  this  was  no  doubt  due  to  irritation  of  the 
motor  strands  passing  through  it. 

Cerebral  Peduncles. — These  contain  both  sensory  and  motor  fibres, 
and  they  establish  a  connexion  between  the  cerebellum  and  the 
cerebrum,  and  also  between  the  ganglia  at  the  base, — corpora  striata, 
optic  thalami,  and  corpora  fiuadrigeniina  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
pons  anil  medulla  on  the  other.  Little  is  known  of  their  functions 
except  that  they  are  conductors.  Destruction  of  one  peduncle  causes 
the  animal  to  move  to  the  side  opposite  the  lesion,  describing  a 
circle  somewhat  in  the  manner  of  a  horse  in  a  circus.  Irritation 
m.iy  cause  pain  or  movements  of  various  groups  of  muscles. 

Basal  Oanij'la. — As  already  shown  in  tracing  the  development 
of  the  cerebro-spinal  system,  the  brain  consists  of  a  series  of  gan- 
glia, in  pails,  more  or  less  overlappeil  by  the  cerebral  hemispheres. 
I'hese  ganglia,  termed  the  "basal  ganglia,"  are  usually  held  to 
include,  from  behind  forwards,  the  corpora  auadrigemina,  the  optic 
thalami,  and  the  corpora  striata  ;  but  in  addition  there  are  bodies 
meriting  an  eipial  amount  of  attention,  inasmuch  as  they  cannot 
be  regarded  as  belonging  to  the  cerebral  hemispheres.  These  are 
the  locus  niger,  the  red  nucleus  of  the  tegmentum,  and  the  corpora 
geniculata  ;  but  we  have  no  knowledge  of  their  functions.  No 
doubt  all  these  ganglia  act  along  with  the  cerebral  hemispheres, 
80  that  practically  the  whole  mass  forms  one  organ. 
jora  Corpora  Quadriycmina. — These  are  two  pairs  of  rounded  bodies 
Iri-  found  above  the  Sylvian  aqueduct,  which  passes  between  the  third 
ina.  and  fourth  ventricles.  They  are  situated  behind  the  optic  thalami, 
and  are  intimately  related  to  the  crura,  and  through  these  to  the 
pons,  ni<-dnlla,  and  cord.  Homologous  with  the  optic  lobes  seen 
in  the  brain  of  the  fish,  frog,  and  bu-d  (see  figs.  17  and  18),  and  in 
marsupials  and  monotremes,  their  relative  si^e  to  the  mass  of  the 
encephalon  is  much  less  in  the  brain  of  man  and  of  the  higher 
animals.  These  bodies  contain  grey  matter,  covered  by  a  thin 
stratum  of  white  matter.  The  two  posterior  bodies  are  probably 
connected  with  the  cerebellum  by  the  superior  peduncles  of  that 
organ ;  at  all  events  these  peduncles  disappear  under  the  base  of 
the  corpora  quadrigemina.  The  two  posterior  bodies  are  also  related 
to  the  crura  cerebri  by  the  prominences  on  the  sides  of  the  crura 
known  as  the  inner  geniculate  bodies.  Both  anterior  and  posterior 
bodies,  more  especially  the  anterior,  are  connected  with  the  optic 
tracts,  and  fin.illy,  the  two  anterior  bodies  unite  with  the  optic 
thalami.  (See  fig.  24  below  ;  also,  plate  XVIII.,  vol.  i.,  fig.  1,  g,g.) 
As  shown  by  their  anatomical  connexions,  the  corpora  quadri- 
gemina are  part  of  the  mechanism  of  vision.  Destruction  causes 
immediate  blindness.  If,  in  a  pigeon,  the  encephalon  be  removed 
with  the  exception  of  these  bodies,  the  iris  will  still  continue  to 
contract  on  the  influence  of  light.  On  then  destroying  one  of 
these  bodies,  the  iris  is  immobile,  and  the  power  of  accommodation 
is  lost  As  the  third  cranial  nerve  (which  is  known  to  contain  fibres 
controlling  the  circular  fibres  of  the  iris  by  which  the  pupil  con- 
tracts, and  the  fibres  governing  the  ciliary  muscle  by  which  the  eye 
is  accommodated  or  focused  to  varying  distances)  originates  in 
the  grey  matter  of  the  floor  of  the  Sylvian  aqueduct,  close  to  the 
corpora  quadrigemina,  it  is  held  that  these  bodies  are  the  centres 
of  tue  reflex  movements  of  the  iris  and  of  the  ciliary  muscle.  The 
corpora  quadrigemina  are  also  the  first  recipients  of  visual  impres- 
sions. When  light  falls  on  the  retiua  changes  are  there  induced 
which  stimulate  the  optic  nerve-fibres,  and  these  fibres  carry  impres- 
sions through  the  optic  tracts  to  tho  corpoia  quadrigemina.  What 
then  occurs  is  matter  of  conjecture.  Whether  sensation  is  there 
excited,  or  whether  to  produce  sensation  it  is  necessary  that  the 
impulses  be  sent  onwards  to  tho  cerebrum,  or  whether  tKo  impres- 
sions directly  received  from  the  retina  may  excite,  through  the. 
corpora  quadrigemina  and  adjacent  ganglia,  reflex  movements  (like 
those  of  the  somnambulist,  who  may  see  so  that  his  steps  are  taken 
rightly,  but  who  may  at  the  same  time  not  see  consciously),  are  all 
epeculativo  questions.  We  know  that  these  bodies  are  concerned 
in  the  movements  of  the  iris  and  of  the  ciliary  muscle,  but  their 
^eat  proportionate  size  in  lowly-formed  brains  indicates  that  this 
la  probably  a  secondary  function,  and  that  they  are  largely  con- 
cerned in  tho  phenomena  of  consciousness  of  light  and  colour. 

Optic  Tlialami. — These  are  two  ganglionic  masses  placed  behind 
the  corpora  striata  and  in  front  of  the  corpora  quadrigemino.  The 
internal  surfaces  are  seen  chiefly  in  tho  third  ventricle,  the  upper 
surfaces  in  tho  same  ventricle  and  tho  lateral  ventricles  (see  vol.  i. 
pp.  875,  876,  figs.  74  and  75),  whilst  the  external  and  under  surface 
of  each  thalamus  is  united  with  other  parts  of  tho  brain.  Tho 
under  surface  receives  fibres  from  the  crus  cerebri,  whilst  the 
upper  surface  ia  covered  by  fibres  which  diverge  and  pass  between 
the  thalamus  and  a  mass  of  grey  matter  in  tho  extra-ventricular 
portion  of  the  corpus  striatum  (called  lenticular  nucleus),  to  form 
a  white  layer  called  the  "internal  capsule."  From  tho  internal 
capsule,  which  thus  contains  fibres  from  the  optic  thalamus,  fibres 


radiate  outwards  to  the  surface  of  the  cerebral  hemisphsres.  The 
under  surface  of  the  thalamus  is  connected  with  the  tegmentum,^ 
that  is,  with  the  layer  of  fibres  forming  the  upper  surface  of  the  crus 
cerebri.  They  also  receive  fibres  from  the  corpora  quadrigemina, 
and  according  to  some  authorities  from  the  superior  peduncles  of 
the  cerebellum.  The  substance  of  the  thalamus  contains  nerve- 
cells,  scattered  and  also  aggregated  into  two  nuclear  masses,  but 
tho  relations  of  these  to  nerve -tracts  have  not  been  ascertained. 
It  is  important  physiologically  to  notice  that  the  thalami  receive 
fibres  from  the  back  of  the  crura,  and  therefore  are  probably  related 
to  the  posterior  or  sensory  portion  of  the  spinal  cord. 

There  is  still  much  uncertainty  as  to  tho  functions  of  the  optio 
thalami.  The  most  commonly  received  opinion  is  that  they  are 
centres  for  the  reception  of  peripheral  impulses,  which  they  may 
elaborate  and  transmit  forwards  to  the  corpora  striata,  or  directly 
to  the  cerebral  hemispheres.  If  the  sensory  impulses  received  by 
the  optic  thalami  are  sent  to  the  corpora  striata,  and  by  these  transj 
mitted  downwards  and  outwards  tnrough  the  crura  cerebri,  then 
reflex  actions  may  occur  in  which  the  basal  ganglia  are  the  centres ; 
but,  if  the  impulses  are  sent  up,  in  the  first  place,  to  the  cerebral 
hemispheres,  and  by  these  transmitted  down  to  the  corpora  striata, 
then  the  action  must  include  the  higher  mechanism  of  the  grey 
matter  of  the  hemispheres.  In  the  first  case  it  is  supposed  by  those 
who  hold  that  consciousness  is  specially  connected  with  the  grey 
matter  of  the  hemispheres  that  the  action  would  be  purely  reflex 
and  unconscious.  Experiment  has  not  thrown  much  light  on 
this  problem,  owing  to  the  deep-seated  situation  of  these  bodies 
rendering  the  results  of  operative  interference  untrustworthy.  The 
little  that  has  been  done  shows  that  injury  to  them  does  not  causa 
paralysis  of  motion.  Nor  can  it  be  said  that  such  injuries  cause 
loss  of  sensation,  the  only  phenomenon  observed  being  that  the 
animal  places  its  limbs  in  anomalous  positions,  and  does  not  seem 
to  be  aware  of  having  done  so.  Meynert  is  of  opinion  that  the  optio 
thalami  fulfil  the  same  functions  as  to  tactile  impressions — that  is, 
impressions  on  the  periphery  of  the  body — that  tne  corpora  quadri-, 

femina  do  for  visual  impressions — that  is,  impressions  on  the  retina, 
n  cases  of  apoplexy  in  which  these  bodies  are  involved  there  are 
always  sensory  disturbances  on  the  side  opposite  the  lesion.  This 
would  lead  to  the  inference  that  the  optic  thalami  are  tlje  sensory 
ganglia  of  the  opposite  sides  of  the  body.  They  are  not,  however, 
the  first  ganglionic  apparatus  through  which  sensory  impressions 
pass,  but  they  probably  co-ordinate  in  some  way  centripetal  impulses 
before  these  are  sent  to  the  cerebral  hemispheres,  w'here  they  are 
correlated  with  feeling.  Further,  as  the  old  name  "  optic  thalami " 
indicates,  these  ganglia  are  concerned  in  some  way  in  Wsion,  because, 
if  seriously  injured,  blindness,  or  at  all  events  disturbance  of  vision, 
is  one  of  the  constant  results.  This  favours  the  view  that  they  are 
the  "middlemen"  between  special  sensory  centres  and  the  higher 
centres  uf  the  cerebrum. 

Corpora  Striata. — These  ganglia,  sometimes  termed  the  "ganglii 
of  the  cerebral  hemispheres, "  situated  in  front  and  on  the  outei 
side  of  the  ojitic  thalami,  are  seen  in  the  lateral  ventricles.  (Sej 
vol.  i.  pp.  875,  876,  figs.  74  and  76.)  Tho  greater  part  of  each  ij 
imbedded  in  the  white  substance  of  tlie  hemisphere  (extra-ventrji 
cular  portion),  whilst  the  part  seen  in  the  floor  of  the  lateral  ventricli 
is  called  the  intra-ventricular  portion.  Each  of  these  contains  s 
nucleus  of  grey  matter,  tho  nucleus  caudatus  in  the  intra-ventri- 
cular and  the  nucleus  lenticularis  in  the  extra-ventricular.  The 
latter  is  separated  internally  from  the  intra-ventricular  portion  by 
a  layer  of  white  matter  called  the  "  internal  capsule,"  whilst  on  the 
outer  side  there  is  another  layer  of  white  matter  called  the  "external 
capsule,"  beyond  which,  again,  ia  a  lamina^or  web  of  grey  matter, 
called  the  "claustrum,"  which  separates  the  external  capsule  from 
the  Island  of  Reil.  The  internal  capsule  is  of  giest  importance 
inasmuch  as  it  is  continuous  with  tne  crusta,  a  portion  of  the 
eras  cerebri,  which,  in  turn,  is  a  continuation  of  the  pyramidal 
fibres  of  the  medulla  oblongata  and  tho  pons.  Multipolar  nerve- 
cells  are  found  in  the  nucleus  caudatus  ;  in  the  claustrum  tho  colls 
are  small  and  spindle-shaped.  Posteriorly,  therefore,  tho  corpus 
striatum  is  related  by  fibres  with  tho  optic  thalamus  ;  inferiorly, 
through  the  internal  capsule,  with  the  pyramidal  portion  of  the 
medulla  and  cord  ;  and  externally  and  superiorly  with  the  grey 
matter  of  tho  cerebrum.  Tho  corpus  striatum  is  a  centre  for  the 
co-ordination  of  centrifugal  or  motor  impulses.  It  may  bo  rou4ed 
into  activity  by  impressions  reaching  'i*.  directly  from  the  otitic 
thalamus,  but  probably  it  usually  acts  in  obedience  to  impulses 
coming  from  the  cerebral  hemispheres.  When  a  clot  of  blood  is 
formed  in,  say,  tho  right  corpus  striatum  thero  is  motor  paralysis 
of  tho  opposite  side  of  tho  body,  and,  according  to  the  size  of  the 
clot,  the  paralysis  may  affect  more  cr  less  completely  the  dilfuront 
groups  of  muscles.  Dcstniction  of  the  two  bodies  destroys  voluntary 
movement,  but  tho  animal  may  move  for^vards  as  in  ninning.  De- 
struction of  the  nucleus  caudatus  renders  movements  of  progieasion 
impossible,  and  the  animal  performs  movements  of  rotation.  Noth- 
nagel by  injecting  a  minuto  drop  of  a  solution  of  chromic  acid 
destroyed  tho  nucleus  lenticularis  of  a  rabbit,  with  the  result  of 
throwing  the  animal  into  complete  unconsciousness.     He  also  stst^t 


38 


PHYSIOLOGY 


fNEEvons 


that  in  the  corpus  striatum  of  the  same  animal  there  's  a  po  nt, 
the  nodus  cursori^is.  the  excitation  of  which  caused  the  rabbit  to 
rush  forwards.  This  observation  agrees  with  the  statement  of 
Magendie  that,  when  he  injured  the  corpora  striata  the  auimal 
seeSied  to  have  an  irresbtible  propulsion  forwards.  Ferr.er  states 
that  when  the  corpora  striata  were  stimulated  by  an  interrupted 
current  convulsive  movements  of  the  opposite  side  of  the  body  tooK 


#.„  M  -Three  Mirs  of  ce^bellir  peduncles  (from  Sappey,  after  HirschfeM 

the  dStion  shoWs  the  superior  and  interior  peduncles  crossing  each  other 
1^  thev  pass  into  the  white  substance  of  cerebellum  ;  6,  6,  fillets  ^t  the  Mde 
"cru«?3clbri  ;  7.  lateral  grooves  ot  crura  ceiebri  ;  8,  corpora quadngemina. 


Fio.  26.— Pigeon  from  which  the  cerebellum  has 
been  removed. 


place  •  and  when  the  current  was  powerful  the  side  of  the  body 

opposite  to  the  side  of  the  brain  stimulated  f  ■.— ^ 

was  forcibly  drawn  into  an  arch.  , 

Cerebellum.— In  connexion  with  the  phy- > 
siolo<T  of  this  organ  it  is  important  to  note 
its  connexions  with  the  rest  of  the  cerebro- 
spinal axis.     It  has  three  peduncles  :  (1)  the 
superior  peduncles  (see  fig.  24)-crura  ad  cere- 
brum,  or  processes  ad  testes  —  together  with 
the  valve  of  Vieussens,  connect  the  cerebellum 
to  the  cerebrum  ;  (2)  the  inferior  peduncles, 
or  crura  ad  raedullam,  are  the  superior  ex- 
tremities  of  the   restiform   bodies ;    (3)  the 
middle  peduncles,  or  crura  ad  pontem,  much 
the  largest,  are  the  lateral  extremities  of  the 
transverse  fibres  of  the  pons  Varolii.     They 
ict  as  commissural  fibres  for  the  hemispheres 
of  the  cerebellum.     All  these  peduncles  pass 
into  the  interior  of  the  cerebellum  at  its  fore- 
part    In  the  interior  of  the  organ,  where  the 
peduncles  enter,  we  find  a  nucleus  of  grey 
matter,  the  corpus  dentatum.      The  cortical 
substance  consists  of  two  layers,— an  outer 
molecular  layer,  consisting  of  a  delicate  ma- 
trix containing  a  few  round  cells  and  fibres, 
and  an  inner  or  granule   layer,   containing 
granules    or    nucleated    corpuscles    closely  ^^ 
packed  together.      The  corpuscles  are  from^-*« 
„Wth  to  „'„th  of  an  inch  in  f  ^^^''^f' !fieL^..,«^,    . 
and  are  mi.ted  with  a  network  of  delicate ;«»«;jBg»/,  d 
nerve-fibres.     At  the  junction  of  the  ST^^^^-^i^U,^:.'Wy.% 
lar  layer  with  the  molecular  layer  there  a™  ^.^y^Ajyj** 
peculiar  large  cells  called  "  Purkinje's  cells.    JflS^^*:* 
They  are  fla-ik  -  shaped  and  about  rtoth  to  '~ 

j^th  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  and  the  long  ^ 

process  is  directed  towards  the  surface  of  the^-i  

cerebellum  (see  fig.  25).    The  white  centre  qt  .^^^=^5=^^-   « 
each  lamina  consists  of  delicate  nerve-fibres, 
the   terminations  of  which  have   not   been 

satisfactoiily  made  out.      Probably  they  end   _-.— . = 

in  the  plexus  of  nerve-fibres  in  the  granule  Fio.  S5.— Vertical  section 
layer,  or  in  the  processes  of  Purkinje's  cells,  through  cortex  of  cere- 
On  comparing  the  section  of  cerebrum  (fig. 
28)  with  that  of  cerebellum  (fig.  25)  the  con- 
trast is  striking.  The  structure  of  cerebellum 
is  more  like  tliat  of  the  retina  (vol.  i.  p.  888. 
ifig.  78)  than  of  any  other  nerve-centre.  _ 

Results  of  Experi7nenls.~TU  cerebellum  is  insensible  to  mechan- 
ical excitations.  Puncture  causes  no  indications  of  pain,  but  there 
may  be  twisting  of  the  head  to  the  side.    Fcrrier  states  that  Faradaic 


bellum  (Sankey).  o,  pia 
,mater  ;  o,  external  layer; 
c,  layer  of  cells  of  Pur- 
kinje  ;  d,  inner  or  gran- 
nlc  laytr;  f,  medullary 
■•entre. 


irritation  causes  movements  of  the  eyeballs  and  other  movements 
indicative  of  vertigo  Section  of  the  middle  peduncle  on  one  side 
causes  the  animal  to  roll  rapidly  round  its  longitudinal  axis,  the 
rotation  being  towards  the  side  operated  on.  „„„„.,„„ 

If  the  cerebellum  be  removed  gradually  by  successive  slices-an  operation 
easily  done  in  a  pigeon-there  is  a  progressive  eflect  on  locomotive  actions.    On 
tak  n.  away  only  the  upper  layer  tliere  Is  some  weakness  and  a  hesitation  In 
^ait-vS  the  sections  have'reached  the  middle  of  the  organ  the  animat 
ftlggers  much,  and  assists  Itself  by  its  wings  in  walking.    Tlie  sections  be  ng 
con^t^nue??urther,  it  is  no  longer  able  to  pieserve  its  ^l";''*""™  «"?;<'"' ^" 
a°sistance  of  its  wings  and  tail ;  Its  attempU  to  fly  or  walk  resemble  the  fruit- 
less efforts  of »  nestling,  '-" 
and  the  slightest  touch 
knocks  it  over.  At  last, 
when  the  whole  cerebel- 
lum is  removed,  it  can- 
not support  itself  even 
with  the  aid  of  its  wings 
and  tail ;  it  makes  vio- 
lent efforts  to  rise,  but 
only  rolls  up  and  down ; 
then,      fatigued      with 
struggling,  it   remains 
for  a  few  seconds   at 
rest  on  its  back  or  ab- 
domen, and  then  again 
commences  -  its     vain 
struggles   to    rise  and 
walk.  Yet  all  the  while 

aiEht  and   hearing  ai-e  „  ..    

plrfect.  See  fig.  26.  It  attempU  to  escape,  and  appears  to  have  all  its  senM; 
lions  perfect.  The  results  contrast  very  strongly  with  those  of  removing  th.. 
cerebral  lobes.  "TiKe  two  pigeons,"  says  Longet :  "  horn  one  remove  com- 
pletely  the  cerebml  lobes,  and  from  the  other  onlj- ha  If  the  cerebelluni ;  th. 
Sert  day  the  first  will  be  firm  on  its  feet,  the  second  will  exhibit  the  unsteadi 
and  imcertain  gait  of  drunkenness." 

There  is  thus  a  loss  of  the  power  of  co-ordination,  or  of  regiila 
tion  of  movement,  without  the  loss  of  sensibility,  and  hence  it  had 
been  assumed  that  in  some  way  or  other  the  cerebellum  acts  as 
the  co-ordinator  of  movements.  .  v  v  r^., », 

Co-ordination  of  Movement.— The  nervous  mechanisms  by  which  <^c-or- 
movements  are  co-ordinated-that  is,  adapted  to  specific  ends-are  dinatio^ 
not  thoroughly  understood,    but  a  short  description  of  wha.  isof=iov»- 
known  may  be  here  given.     Muscular  movements  may  be  either  in»ut 
simple  or  complex.     In  winking,  the  movement  of  the  eyelid  is 
effected  by  two  muscles,  one  bringing  the  lid  dow-n,  the  other  rais- 
ing it.     But  picking  up  a  pen  from  the  table,  taking  a  dip  ol  inK, 
and  writin<T  a  few  words  involve  a  complicated  set  of  movements 
of  the  mufcles  of  the  trunk,  shoulder,  arm,  forearm,  fingers,  and 
thumb.     To  perform  the  movements  with  precision  each  muscle  or 
eroup  of  muscles  must  act  at  the  right  time  and  to  the  proper 
tmount.     It  is  also  clear  that  all  this  is  accomplished  automatic- 
aUv      We  are  not  conscious  of  the  requisite  combinations  ;  but  it 
must  be  noted  that  many  of  these  complicated  movements  are  hrst 
acquired  by  conscious  efforts,  and  that  they  become  automatic  only 
by  rtoetitiou.     Again,  in  walking,  equilibrium  is  maintained  by  a 
delicate  series  of  muscular  adjustments.     When  we  swing  fonvard 
one  leg  and  balance  the  body  on  the  other  many  musciJar  move- 
ments occur,  and  with  every  change  in  the  position  of  the  centre 
of  gravity  in  the  body  there  are  corresponding  adjustments.     It 
would  appear  that  in  all  mechanisms  of  co-ordination  the  first  part 
of  the  process  is  the  transmission  of  sensory  impressions  from  the 
nerinhery.     These  sensory  impressions  may  be  denved  from  the 
skin  or  muscles,  and  may  be  caused  by  variations  of  pressure  arising 
in  them.     Thus,  if  we  lift  a  heavy  weight,  as  a  large  stone   by  the 
right  hand  and  raise  it  to  the  bend  of  tie  elbow  we  throw  the  body 
to  the  other  side  by  the  action  of  the  muscles  of  that  side,  thus 
maintaining  the  equilibrium.     We  judge  of  tha  amount  of  force 
Necessary  tS  overcome  an  obstruction  by  the  feeling  of  resistance  we 
encounter.     All  the  movements  of  the  body,  therefore,  give  nse  to 
feelings  of  varying  pressures,  and  these  feelings  regulate  the  amount 
or  dcwee  of  muscular  action  necessair  to  maintam  equdibrium,  or 
to  perform  a  requisite  movement      fliia  is  at  first  a  conscious  ex- 
perience, and  a  child  has  to  pass  through  an  education,  often  involv- 
ing  pain  before  the  nervous  ciechanisms  become  automatic  and  the 
movement  is  done  without  effi-rt.    But  the  ordinary  sensory  nerves 
^ming  from  skin  and  muscle,  are  not   he  only  channels  by  which 
^ch  liiding  mechanisms  are  set  in  action      As  one  would  expect. 
senso^imp?essions,  such  as  those  associated  with  eight  and  hearing, 

"^7.  "^X^  'Zf^'ons  fror.  Semicircular  Ca,^ls.-U  thi 
mcnlranous  portion  of  the  horizontal  semicircular  canal  in  the 
Sterns  ear  of  a  pigeon  be  cut,  the  bird  moves  its  head  from  side  tj 
sWo  and  tf  one  o^f  the  vertical  canals  be  divided  it  moves  the  hea^ 
up  and  down.  The  effects  may  pass  off  in  a  few  days  if  only  one 
cfnal  has  been  cut  If  the  canals  on  both  sides  be  divided  the 
movnments  are  exaggerated  and  the  condituin  becomes  permanent. 
ItZmtZ.  be  obseTved  that  the  animal  has  lost  the  Po^er  of  co- 
ordinating its  movements.  It  can  rest  with  only  a  twitching 
n™haps  of  the  head,  but  if  it  attempt  to  fly  or  walk  its  movements 
Le  in^d^finite  and  iiregular,  like  those  of  ^f^^^^X^J^, 
those  described  as  follomng  injury  to  the  cerebellnm.  Jh^  -f^^f^f  ^ 
movements  do  not  arise  from  deafness,  or  noises  m  the  ears,  or^^nm 
pwalysis,  or  from  an  uncontrollable  impulse.     Any  strong  sensory 


aysTKM.J 


PHYSIOLOGY 


39 


impression,  such  as  holding  the  bird,  supporting  its  beak,  or  hold- 
ing a  brilliant  light  before  its  eyes,  will  steady  it,  and  it  has  been 
noticed  that  "  it  can,  even  without  assistance,  clean  its  feathers  and 
scratch  its  head,  its  beak  and  foot  being  in  these  operations  gwided 
by  contact  with  its  own  body."  It  has  been  supposed  that  the 
semicircular  canals  are  concerned  in  the  mechanism  of  equibration, 
— a  view  nrged  chiefly  by  Mach  and  Crum-Brown.  If  a  blindfolded 
man  is  seated  on  a  horizontal  rotating  table,  such  as  that  used  in  a 
lighthouse  for  rotating  or  eclipsing  th"  light,  and  the  table  is  turned 
round,  at  first  there  is  a  sensation  of  movement  in  the  same  direction 
as  that  of  the  table  ;  then  this  sensation  fades  away,  until  he  has 
no  sensation  of  movement,  although  the  table  may  be  rapidly 
rotating ;  finally,  if  the  table  be  stopped  without  a  jerk  there  Is 
first  a  very  short  period  in  which  there  is  no  definite  sensatioa, 
which  is  succeeded  by  a  sense  of  rapid  movement  in  the  opposite 
direction,  often  accompanied  by  a  feeling  of  nausea.  Now  it  is 
evident  that  neither  sight  nor  touch  nor  muscular  sensations 
can  ^ve  a  sense  of  rotation  in  these  circumstances,  and  yet  it  is 
possible  to  form  a  fairly  accurate  judgment  of  the  angle  through 
which  the  body  has  moved.  It  has  been  suggested  that  this  is  efi'ected 
by  the  action  of  the  semicircular  canals.  The  membranous  por- 
tions are  surrounded  by  a  fi  'id  called  the  "  endolyrapli,"  and  are  free 
to  move  through  a  short  aistance.  Hence  it  has  been  supposed 
that  rotations  more  or  less  rapid  must  cause  variations  of  tension  of 
tho  membranous  portion.  Thus,  if  the  membranous  part,  especially 
the  ampuUa  or  dilated  ends  of  tho  canals,  lag  behind  when  rotation 
in  one  direction  takes  place,  the  nerves  ending  in  them  will  be 
subjected  to  a  strain  ;  by  aud  by  both  membranous  portions  and 
surrounding  parts  will  bo  moving  with  the  same  velocity,  when 
there  will  be  no  strain  and  no  sense  of  movement ;  and  at  last,  when 
,he  rotatory  movement  is  arrested,  there  will  be  a  tendency  on  the 
part  of  the  membranous  portions,  as  they  are  floating  in  a  fluid,  to 
move  on  a  little  farther  than  the  rest,  and  thus  again  produce  a 
strain,  causing  a  sensation  of  movement  in  the  opposite  direction. 
By  similar  reasoning  it  can  be  shown  that  if  we  take  the  peculiar 
position  of  the  three  canals  into  consideration  any  movement  in 
space  might  be  thus  appreciated,  and  these  appreciations  enter 
into  the  judgment  we  form  of  the  movements.  According  to  this 
theory,  the  sense  of  equilibrium  may  be  largely  due  to  impressions 
derived  from  the  position  of  the  head,  and,  as  muscular  movements 
required  for  placing  tho  body  in  definite  positions  are  determined, 
as  we  have  seen,  by  peripheral  impressions,  the  Irregular  movements 
of  the  pigeon,  after  injury  to  these  canals,  may  be  accounted  for. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  in  tlie  bird,  which  from  the  structure  of 
its  extremities — feet  and  wings — can  have  no  peripheral  impressions 
to  delicate  as  those  derivqd  trom  tho  papilla;  of^  the  skin  on  the 
extremities  of  other  animals,  the  sense  of  equilibrium  is  maintained 
chiefly  by  impressions  from  these  canals,  and  this  may  account  for 
the  comparatii'ely  large  size  of  these  organs  in  birds  and  fishes. 
This  is  in  correspondence  also  with  the  requirements  of  birds  in  the 
balancings  of  flight  and  of  fishes  in  swimming.  It  is  well  kuo%vn 
that  disease  or  injury  of  tliese  canals  in  the  human  being  produces 
symptoms  of  vertigo  and  a  diminution  of  the  powertif  co-ordinated 
action,  as  in  Meniere's  disease,  showing  that  the  canals,  even  in 
man,  have  similar  functions  to  those  in  the  bird. 

2.  Peripheral  Imprcssiotia  from  the  Eye. — Many  movements  are 
^idcd  and  controlled  by  tho  sense  of  vision.  Simply  blindfolding 
a  bird  usually  makes  it  passive,  and  it  will  not  attempt  either  to 
walk  or  to  fly  ;  the  same  efl'ects  to  a  less  degree  may  be  seen  in  a 
mammal ;  and  a  blindfolded  man  will  stagger  in  his  gait.  The 
wonderfully  accurate  movements  of  the  blind  in  walking  are  ac- 
-q^uired  by  long  and  laborious  etfort,  and  aro  guided  by  the  sensa- 
tions of  hearing,  of  touch,  and  of  resistance.  If  the  optic  lobes  of 
a  frog  be  destroyed,  its  power  of  balancing  itself  is  lost.  There  aro 
thus  at  least  three  channels  by  which  peripheral  impressions  pass 
to  the  centres  and  seem  to  guide  or  co-ordinnte  movement:  (1) 
from  tho  periphery,  by  nerves  of  ordinary  sensibility  arising  in  tho 
ekin,  muscles,  and  viscera  ;  (2)  from  tho  semicircular  canals  of  the 
oar,  by  special  nerve-fibres  in  the  auditory  nerve  ;  (3)  from  the  eye, 
by  fibres  of  tho  optic  nerve.  How  and  where  these  skoins  of  sensi- 
tive impressions  are  ga'hered  up  and  so  arranged  as  to  call  forth 
the  requisite  movements  can  only  be  conjectured ;  but  the  cerebellum 
is  the  organ  most  likely  to  bo  concerned  in  such  a  mechanism.  It 
is  in  organic  connexion  with  many  of  the  nerve-fibres  convoying 
(lensory  impressions.  By  the  restiform  bodies  it  receives  many  of 
the  sensory  fibres  of  the  spinal  cord  ;  the  auditory  nerve  has  roots 
intimately  related  to  tho  cerebellum  ;  and  it  is  fair  to  n.'^sume  that 
there  are  communications  between  tho  corpora  quadrigcmina  and 
the  cerebellum.  Stimulation  of  tho  cerebellum  causes  movements 
of  the  eyeballs,  and  disease  of  the  cerebellum  is  sometimes  attended 
by  blindness.  How  the  cerebellum  co-ordinates  movement  is  quite 
unknown,  and  the  diSicultyin  explaining  ita  functions  is  not  lessened 
by  the  clinical  fact  that  extensive  disease  of  this  organ  may  exist 
without  any  appreciable  sensory  or  motor  disturbance.  There  is 
10  evidence  to  support  the  view  of  tho  founders  of  phrenology  that 
-he  cerebellum  has  to  do  with  the  sexual  functions. 

Cerebral  Hemispheres. — As  these  have  been  fully  described  in  vol. 


Cls- 


i.  p.  878.  it  is  only  necessary  here  to  point  out  the  anatomical  facts 

thst  assist  in  explaining  the  functions  of  the  organ.  It  is  import- 
ant to  observe,  first,  tlie  general  arrangements  of  the  fibres,  and, 
secondly,  the  arrangement  and  structure  of  the  grey  matter.  The 
white  matter  of  tho  cerebrum  consists  of  ascending  or  peduncular 
fibres,  longitudinal  or  collateral  fibres,  and  of  transverse  or  com- 
missural fibres. 

(1.)  Peduncular  Fibres. — The  crusta  of  the  cerebral  pednndea 
consists    of    bundles    of  <in  ( 

longitudinal    fibres    de-  I     f    "' ' 

rived  mainly  from  the 
anterior  pyramid  of  the 
medulla.  The  cnist  is 
quadrilateral  in  form, 
but  in  ascending  to  the 
hemispheres  it  Decomes 
flattened  from  above 
downwards,  so  that  the 
fibres  spread  out  like  a 
fan.  The  fan  formed  by 
these  fibres  is  bent  into 
the  form  of  an  incom- 
plete hollow  cone,  tho  /K- 
convex  surface  of  which 
is  directed  upwards  and 
inwards.  Thus  the  fibres  J 
pass  between  the  optic 
thalamus  and  the  lenti- 
cular nucleus,  forming 
the  internal  capsule. 
Higher  up  the  fibres 
pursue  their  course  be- 
neath and  to  the  outside 
of  the  thalamus  and 
the  cautlate  nucleus,  and 
over  the  lenticular  nu- 
cleus. "Still  higher  up 
the  internal  capsule  has 
spread  out  from  before 
backwards,  while  th© 
anterior  half  forms  an 
obtuse  angle  with  tho 
posterior.  Tlie  angle 
where 'the  halves  meet 
is  called  the  knee  (fig. 
27,  K),  while  the  divi- 
sions themselves  are 
called  the  anterior  (fig. 
27,  IK')  and  posterior 
segments  of  the  internal 
capsule  "  (Roes).  On 
emerging  from  the  basal 


Fig.  27.— (After  Flechsig.)  Horizontal  section  of 
brain  of  child  nine  montlis  old,  only  a  portion 
of  the  ri^ht  eido  being  ghgwn.  F,  front*!,  TS, 
teniporo-sphenoidal,  and  0,  occipital  lobes  ;  op, 
operculum  ;  In,  island  of  Reil ;  Cls,  claut^trum  ; 
f",  third  frontal  convolution  :  JTi,  optic  thal- 
y_    ^,  amns  ;  AT,  cau<late  nuelcua  ;  NC,  tAil  of  candat* 

ganglia  the  fibres  of  the     nuclous ;  LN,  lenticular  nucleus  ;  11,111,  second 
internal  capsule  radiate    '^<'  ""ird  dirisions  of  lonticutar  nuclous ;  KK 

-  external  capKUlo ;   i/t,  posterior  division,  ffl  , 

anterior  divibion,  and  K,  knee  of  intrrnal  cap- 
sule ;  aft,  j-ift,  anterior  and  posterior  boms  rc- 
spectivtly  of  lateral  ventricles  ;  gcc,  knee  of 
corpus  callosuui ;  sp,  splcnium  :  mc,  middle  com- 
missure ;  /,  fornix ;  tl,  septum  Incidum. 


in  all  directions  to  reach 
the  cortex  of  the  brain, 
giving  rise  to  the  appear- 
ance called  the  "corona 
radiata. "  The  following 
sets  of  fibres  have  been  traced  into  connexion  with  the  cerebrum. 

(rt)  Sensory  peduncular  fibres,  derived  from  the  posterior  root-roncs  and  tho 
columns  of  Goll.  These  .irti  in  connexion  with  the  cerebellum  ;  but,  as  shown 
by  Meynert,  PlechsiK,  and  others,  many  pass  up  through  tho  pons  to  re.ich  Uis 
crus  cerebri,  occupying  tho  posterior  and  external  portion  of  the  pyramidal 
tract.  They  do  not  appear  to  be  connected  with  tho  optic  thalamus  and 
tho  lenticular  nucleus,  but  pass  betwoon  thorn  to  the  cortex,  fb)  Fibres  from 
the  roots  of  tho  optic  norvca.  reaching  tho  brain  by  vrhat  have  lieen  called  tho 
"optic  radiations  of  Gratiolet."  This  bundle  of  llbrcfi  issues  from  the  postcrioi 
and  external  border  of  tlio  optic  thalamus  and  is  el'^sely  applied  to  the  pedun- 
cular sensory  tract  in  its  passage  througli  tho  Inlerniil  capsule,  and  the  flbrtsi 
seem  to  bo  connoctoU  with  tlio  convolutions  of  nio  ocelpttAl  lobe.  It  la  Im- 
portant to  note  that  at  least  ono  of  tho  roots  of  the  optic  norvo  (the  Internal] 
passes  into  tho  external  genicuUto  body  and  tlicnco  into  tlio  anterior  Iwtlios  el 
tho  corpora  (]uadrigemina.  Thns  there  is  a  path  for  the  ;iaasftKe  of  tinprw.iiioOB 
from  tho  retina  to  tho  cortex  of  the  brain,  (e)  Fibres  from  tho  olfactory  lobM 
have  boon  traced  to  a  Junetion  with  the  optio  radiations  cf  Gratiolct,  and  14M 
with  them  to  tho  convolutions  of  tho  cortex  of  the  iK-cipital  ur  temixiro-si  lien- 
oidal  lobe,  (d)  Tho  pyramidal  tract  haa  alre.-idy  been  troee.l  tliro\ij(h  the  spinal 
cord,  medulla,  and  pons.  It  then  pots  on,  as  atroady  aeon,  Uy  fnrm  the  Internal 
capsule  and  the  corona  radiata,  tlio  nbn's  ending  In  the  porictAl  b^bule,  tho 
paraoentral  lobule,  the  superior  cxtiemitios  of  the  aaoonding  .'rontAl  and 
porlotal  convolutions,  probably  tho  posterior  extremity  of  Uie  f^ist  frontal 
convolution,  tho  posterior  extremity  of  tho  third  fVonbal,  and  tho  Inferior 
extreniitios  of  tho  nsocndlng  frontal  and  parietal  convolutitiaa,— In  abort,  In 
the  convolutions  formins  the  middle  and  parietal  region  of  tho  eurfkoe  of 
the  cortex.  (?)  Fibres  issuing  from  tho  external  surfaco  of  tho  cntic  thalamiu 
to  Joii,  the  lnt«mal  capsule.  Tlieso  aro  diatribut^d  to  the  eonvol\;tlons  of  th* 
frontal  and  parietal  lobes.  (/)  Fibres  isnulng  fVom  tho  oxt/^ninl  sirtaee  of  th« 
caudate  Dncieua,  paasing  alno  into  the  corona  rvdiata.  (9)  l-'il,n«  Issuing  from 
tho  superior  and  internal  surface  of  the. lenticular  nucleus  to  Join  tho  ajii-euding 
fibres  of  tho  Internal  enmiile.  (ft)  Fibres  aaeendlng  from  the  superior  peduncle 
of  the  cerebellnm.  Flechslg  says  that  Rome  of  tho  l\rrrs  of  the  superior  peduncle 
of  tho  cerebellum  of  tho  opposito  aide  tioss  unlnterruptodly  throngh  the  rtd 
nucleus  and  along  the  Internal  surfkoe  of  tlie  nbrea  of  the  pynmldol  tT«ct  to 


40 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[nervous 


Com- 
missural 
6bre3  o' 
cere- 
brum. 


t 


he  (llstribnted  to  the  central  convolutions  of  the  cerebrum.  (0  Fibres  issuing 
from  the  corpus  callosum  and  descending  into  the  internal  capsule,  (fc)  Fibres 
of  the  external  capsule  which  ascend  from  the  crusta  and  ultimately  reach  the 
cortex  through  tlie  corona  radiata. 

In  addition  to  the  peduncular  fibres  above  enumerated,  all  of 
which  belong  to  what  may  be  termed  the  system  of  the  internal 
capsule  and  corona  ladiata,  fibres  from  the  fornix,  t.Tjnia  semi- 
circularis,  outer  layer  of  septum  lucidum,  and  the  fillet  of  the  crus 
also  pass  from  below  upwards  to  the  cortex  of  the  hemispheres 
(Ross). 

(2.)  Longihidinal  or  Collateral  Fibres. — {a)  Fibres  running  im- 
mediately below  the  surface  of  the  cortex,  and  connecting  the  grey 
matter  of  adjacent  convolutions.  (6)  Fibres  in  the  gyrus  fornicatus, 
a  convolution  immediately  above  the  corpus  callosum.  It  is  said 
that  bands  of  these  fibres  arise  in  the  anterior  perforated  space  and 
pass  completely  round  the  corpus  callosum  to  end  in  the  same  per- 
forated space,  and  that  offsets  of  these  fibres  pass  upwards  and 
backwards  to  reach  the  summits  of  the  secondary  convolutions 
derived  from  the  gyrus  fornicatus  near  the  longitudinal  fissure, 
(c)  Longitudinal  fibres  of  the  corpus  callosum  (nerves  of  Lancisi), 
connecting  the  anterior  and  posterior  ends  of  the  callosal  convolu- 
tion, {d}  Longitudinal  septal  fibres,  lying  on  the  inner  surface  of 
the  septum  lucidum,  aud  entering  into  the  gyrus  fornicatus  (c) 
Tlie  fasciculus  uucinatus,  passing  across  the  bottom  of  the  Sylvian 
fissure  and  connecting  the  convolutions  of  the  frontal  and  temporo- 
sphenoidal  lobes.  (/)  The  longitudinal  inferior  fasciculus,  connect- 
ing the  convolutions  of  the  occipital  with  those  of  the  temporal  lobe. 
(3.)  Transverse  or  Commissural  Fibres. —  i^  |  ^  |  f  i  i^.  _iiy  p 
[a]  Many,  if  not  all,  of  the  fibres  of  the  ' 
corpus  callosum  pass  transversely  from 
one  side  to  tlie  other  aud  connect  corre-i 
sponding  convolutions  in  the  hemispheres. ' 
This  is  the  generally  accepted  view ;  but 
Professor  Hamilton  of  Aberdeen  has  recently  i 
stated  that  liis  preparations  show  that  there  j^ 
is  no  such  commissural  system  between  con-  ' 
volutions,  and  that  the  fibres  decussating  in 
the  corptts  callosum  are  not  continued  to 
convolutions  on  the  other  side,  but  pass 
downwards.  (6)  The  fibres  of  the  anterior 
commissure  wind  backwards  through  the 
lenticular  nuclei  to  reach  the  convolutions 
round  the  Sylvian  fissure,  (c)  The  fibres  of 
the  posterior  commissure  run  tlirough  the 
optic  thalami.' 

Arrange-      Arranr/emenl  and  Structure  of  Ore])  Mat- 

ment        ter. — The  grey  matter  in  the   medulla  and 

and  basal  ganglia  has  been  already  considered. 

structure  A  web  or  sheet  of  it  is  also  thrown  over  the 

of  grey   •  surface  of  the  cereliruni,  and  forms  the  outer 

matter,  portion  of  all  the  convolutions.  The  cor- 
tical substance  consists  of  cells  and  fibres 
imbedded  in  a  matrix  similar  to  the  neuroglia 
of  the  spinal  cord.  It  may  be  divided  into 
five  layers,  which  merge  into  each  other  by  * 
almost  insensible  gradations.  The  most  ex- 
terna! layer  consists  of  delicate  nerve-fibres, 
neuroglia,  aud  a  few  small  round  cells  desti- 
tute of  processes  (see  fig.  28).  Going  deeper 
we  find  cells  of  a  characteristic  pyramidal 
form,  the  largest  being  in  the  deepest  layer. 
Their  bases  are  turned  inwards,  and  their 
apices  towards  the  surface  of  the  convolu- 
tion. Cleland  states  that  fibres  passing  from 
the  apices  are  continuous  mth  the  delicate 
fibres  found  on  the  very  surface  of  the  cor- 
tex. In  the  ascending  frontal  convolu- 
tions Betz  and  Mierzejewski  have  found 
liyraraidal  cells  two  or  three  times  larger 
tlian  those  of  other  regions  of  the  cortex, 
and  these  have  been  termed  "  giant-cells. " 

All  the  pyramidal  cells,  no  doubt,  anasto-  f.o  28.— (After  Meynert.) 
mose  by  their  processes,  and  give  origin  to  Vertical  section  of  a  fur- 
the  nerve-fibres  of  the  white  substance,  but 
it  is  rarely -possible  to  trace  the  fibres  from 
cell  to  cell.  A  consideration  of  these  ana- 
tomical facts,  along  with  those  mentioned  in 
connexion  with  the  comparative  anatomy  of 
the  brain,  shows  that  the  cerebral'  hemi- 
spheres are  in  iutimate  connexion  by  fibres 
with  all  the  other  portions  of  the  cerebro- 
spinal system.  Further,  they  are  not  on'y 
intricate  in  structure  themselves,  but  the 
commissural  sets  of  fibres  indicate  that 
there  is  harmony  of  function  between  one  part  and  another. 


row  of  third  cerebral  con. 
volution  of  man.  1,  layer 
of  scattered  sma,U  corti- 
cal corpuscles ;  2,  layer 
of  close-set  small  pyra- 
midal corpuscles  ;  3, 
layer  of  large  pjTamidal 
cortical  corpuscles  ;  4, 
layer  of  small  close-set 
iiregular-shaped  corpus- 
cles ;  5,  layer  nf  fusiform 
corpuscles  (like  those  in 
the  claustrum);  Tii,  me- 
dullary lamiaa. 

In 


I  In  preparing  the  foregoing  sketch  of  the  fihi-es  of  the  cerebrtun  the  writer 
li  much  indebted  to  Ross,  Diieases  of  the  Nervous  .^ttcm. 


-Pigeon,  in  which  the  cerebrum  has  beea 
injured  or  removed. 


determining  the  function  of  so  complicated  an  apparatus  recourse 
must  be  had  to  the  evidence  (1)  of  develo|)ment,  (2  of  comparn- 
five  anatomy,  (3)  of  human  anatomy,  (4)  of  the  observed  elfecta 
of  disease  before  and  after  death,  and  (.^)  of  experiment.  Facts 
have  already  been  collected  from  the  first  three  of  these  fields 
of  inquiry,  all  tending  to  show  that  the  grey  matter  of  the  hemi- 
sphere is  associated  with  the  manifestation  of  intelligence  in  its' 
various  forms.  The  phejiomena  of  disease  support  the  same  con-' 
elusion.  Diseases  producing  slow  changes  in  the  layer  of  grey 
matter  on  the  cortex  are  invariably  associated  with  mental  disturb- 
ance, such  as  melancholia,  mania,  or  dementia.  If  the  grey  matter 
be  suddenly  injured  or  submitted  to  compression,  as  by  a  blow- 
causing  fracture  and  depression  of  a  portion  of  the  skull,  or  the 
effusion  of  fluid  consequent  on  inflammation,  unconsciousness  is  a 
certain  resalt.  So  long  as  the  pressure  continues  there  is  no  con-^ 
sciousness  ;  if  it  be  removed,  consciousness  may  soon  return.  Oq 
the  other  hand,  if  the  disease  affect  .the  white  matter  of  the  centra) 
portions  or  the  ganglia  at  tlie  base,  there  may  be  paralysis  or  conl 
vulsions  without  consciousness  being  affected.  All  the  facts,' 
therefore,  of  pathology  relating  to  the  brain  indicate  that  the  grey 
matter  on  the  surface  of  the  hemispheres  is  the  organ  of  conscious- 
ness and  of  all  mental  operations.  This  statement  is  now  an  axiom 
of  medical  science,  and  the  basis  of  the  rational  treatment  of  the 
insane  and  of  all  maladies  of  the  central  nervous  organs. 

Two  methods  of  experiment  upon  the  cerebrum  have  usually  been 
followed,  and  both  have  yielded  important  results. 

(a.)  Removal. — Flourcns  and  the  older  observers  were  aware  of 
the  fact  that  as  successive  slices  of  grey  matter  are  removed  from 
the  surface  of  the  cere- 
brum an  animal  be- 
comes more  dull  and 
stupid,  until  at  last  all 
indications  of  percep- 
tion and  volition  dis- 
appear. A  pigeon  in 
this  condition  (see  fig- 
29),  if  carefully  fed,  ^- 
may  live  for  many  ^ 
months;  to  quote  from  -- 
Dal  ton  - 

"The  effect  of  this  mtiti-  Fin.  29.- 
lat  ion  is  simply  to  plunge 
the  animal  into  a  state  of 
profound  stupor,  in  which  it  is  almost  entirely  inattentive  to  anrroundiDg 
objects.  The  bird  remains  sitting  motionless  upon  his  perch  or  standing  upon 
the  ground,  with  the  eyes  closed  and  the  head  sunk  between  the  shoulders. 
The  plumage  is  smooth  and  glossy,  but  is  uniformly  expanded  by  a  kind  of 
erection  of  the  feathers,  so  that  the  body  appears  somewhat  puffed  out,  and 
larger  than  natural.  Occasionally  the  bird  opens  its  eyes  with  a  vacant  stare, 
stretches  its  neck,  perhaps  shakes  its  bill  once  or  twice,  or  smooths  down  the 
feathers  upon  its  shoulders,  and  then  relapses  into  its  former  apathetic  con- 
dition." 

Similar  observations  have  also  been  made  on  reptiles  and  mammals, 
but  the  latter  survive  the  operation  for  a  comparatively  short  time. 
In  watching  such  an  animal  it  is  difficult  to  divest  one's  mJnd  of 
the  belief  that  it  still  feels  and  sees  and  hears.  It  may  be  observed 
that  it  rarely  makes  movements  unless  stimulated  from  without. 
Thus  it  may  remain  motionless  for  many  hours  ;"but  if  pushed,  or 
gently  touched,  it  moves.     As  remarked  by  Prof.  M.  Foster — 

*'  No  image,  either  pleasant  or  terrible,  whether  of  food  or  of  an  enemy,  pro- 
duces any  effect  on  it,  other  than  that  of  an  object  reflecting  more  or  less  light. 
Aud,  though  the  plaintive  character  of  the  cry  which  it  gives  forth  when 
pinched  suggests  to  the  observer  the  existence  of  passion,  it  is  probable  that  is 
a  wrong  interpretation  of  a  vocal  action  ;  the  cry  appears  plaintive,  simply  be- 
cause, in  consequence  of  the  completeness  of  the  reflex  *ervous  machinery 
and  the  absence  of  the  usual  restraints,  it  is  prolonged  The  animal  is  able  to 
execute  all  its  ordinary  bodily  movements,  but  in  its  performance  nothing  Is 
ever  seen  to  indicate  the  retention  of  an  educated  intelligence." 

(J.)  Electrical  Stimulation  of  Surface  of  Brain. — It  is  remarkable 
that,  although  many  of  the  early  workers  in  cerebral  physiology 
stimulated  the  surface  of  the  brain  by  electric  currents,  they 
observed  no  effect,  and  therefore  Magendie,  llatteucci,  Longet, 
Weber,  Budge,  Schiff,  and  others  taught  that  irritation  of  the 
surface  of  the  hemispheres  called  forth  no  muscular  movements  ; 
and  it  was  generally  accepted  that  the  grey  matter  on  the  cortex 
of  the  brain  was  entirely  concerned  in  the  phenomena  of  sensation, 
volition,  and  intellectual  action.  During  the  Franco-German  war 
in  1870  Hitzig  had  occasion  to  apply  galvanism  to  a  portion  of 
the  exposed  brain  of  a  wounded  soldier,  and  he  observed  contrac- 
tions of  the  muscles  of  the  eyeball.  AVhcn  peace  was  restored, 
experiments  were  made  on  tlie  lower  animals  by  Hitzig  and 
Fritsch,  in  which  a  portion  of  exposed  brain  was  irritated  by  a 
continuous  current,  and  it  was  observed  that  the  phenomena  took 
place  on  opening  and  closing  the  current.  By  these  experiments 
the  German  observers  discovered  that,  when  certain  areas  of  grey 
matter  were  stimulated,  contractions  of  certain  muscles  occurred, 
and  they  were  thus  able  to  map  out  areas .  for  grobps  of  musclea 
Immediately  afterwards  the  research  was  taken  up  by  Professor 
David  Terrier  of  King's  College,  London,  who,  using  a  Faradaic 
instead  of  a  continuous  current,  greatly  extended  the  field  of 
inquiry,  and  obtain«d  many  important  results,  which  are  ijot  only 


:  ISTEMJ 


PHYSIOLOGY 


41 


of  value  in  cerebral  phj-siology  but  have  been  successfully  applied 
to  the  diagnosis  of  various  diseases  of  the  nervous  system.  The 
motor  areas  as  determined  by  Ferrier  in  the  monkey  are  shown 
in  6g.  30.  Dr  Ferrier  has  also  indicated  the  corresponding  motor 
areas  in  man  by  carefully  comparing  the  convolutiona  with  those 
of  the  monkey.'  An  inspection  of  the  figures  ~ 

shows  that  the  areas  which,  when  stimu- 
lated, give  rise  to  definite  movements  are 
distributed  only  over  a  part  of  the  cortex. 
As  stimulation  gives  rise  to  no  movements 
over  other  regions  of  the  brain,  these  have 
been  assumed  to  be  connected  with  psych  i. 
cal  states,  such  as  sensation,  volition,  kc. 
Much  controversy  has  arisen  as  to  the  real 


i'la.  30.  — A.  L.  ft  hemiaphere  of  luolikey.  B.  Upper  surface  of  hemispliere  of 
monkey.  The  iiuiiibeis  in  A  and  B  correspond.  1,  advance  of  opposite  leg 
as  in  walking;  2,  complex  movements  of  thish,  leg,  and  foot,  with  adapted 
movements  of  trunk  ;  it,  movements  of  tail;. 4,  retraction  and  adduction  of 
opposite  fore-limb  ;  5,  extension  forward  of  opposite  arm  and  hand,  as  if  to 
reach  or  touch  something  in  iW>nt ;  a,  6,  c,  d,  individual  and  combined  move- 
ments of  fingers  and  wrists,  ending  in  clenching  of  flst ;  (3,  supination  and 
flexion  of  forearm,  by  which  the  hand  is  raised  towards  the  mouth  ;  7,  action 
of  zygomatics,  by  which  the  angle  of  the  mouth  Js  retracted  and  elevated  ; 
6,  elevation  of  ala  of  nose  and  upper  lip,  with  depression  of  lower  lip,  so  as 
to  expose  the  canipe  teeth  on  the  opposite  side ;  9,  opening  of  mouth  with 
protrusion  of  tongue  ;  10,  opening  of  mouth  with  retraction  of  tongne  ;  11, 
retraction  of  angle  of  mouth  ;  12,  eyes  opening  wffiely,  pupils  dilating,  head 
and  eyes  turning  towards  opposite  side  ;  13,  13',  eyeballs  moving  to  opposite 
side, — ^pupils  generally  contracting  ;  14,  sudden  retraction  of  opposite  ear ;  15, 
subiculum  comu  ammonia,-  torsion  of  lip  and  nostril  on  same  side.   (Terrier.) 

nature  of  these  so-called ."  motor  areas."  It  h.as  been  clearly  ascer- 
tained that  the  effects  are  not  due  to  diffusion  of  the  electric  currents 
influencing  other  parts  of  the  brain.  That  there  is  to  some  extent 
such  diffusion  between  the  electrodes  there  can  bo  no  doubt,  but 
the  exact  correspondence  between  the  area  stimulated  and  the 
movements  produced,  and  the  fact  that  shifting  the  electrodes  a 
very  short  distance  to  one  side  or  another  is  followed  by  different 
results,  show  that  the  effect  is  somehow  owing  to  changes  excited. 
by  the  electric  current  in  that  particular  area  of  grey  matter. 
Hitzig,  Ferrier,  and  others  have  also  found  that  removal  of  the 
layer  of  grey  matter  of  a  "motor  centre"  i* followed  by  enfeeble- 
ment  of  the  movements  assigned  to  the  area,  but  in  the  course  of 
a  few  days  the  paralytic  symptoms  disappear.  The  latter  effect 
cannot  be  duo  to  the  corresponding  contre  on  the  opposite  side 
taking  up  the  work  "as  subsequent  destruction  of  the  latter  pro- 
duced the  U'.ual  paralysis  on  tlio  side  opposite  to  the  lesion,  but 
did  not  cause  a  repetition  of  the  paralysis  on  the  sido  opposed  to 
the  first  lesion"  (Carville  and  Duret).  It  would  appear,  therefore, 
that  after  destruction  of  a  centre  on  one  side  sotoo  other  part  of 
the  same  hemisphere  may  take  up  thu  functions  of  the  destroyed 
part.  Goltz  of  Strasburg  has  removed  largo  portions  of  the  grey 
cortex  (even  to  the  extent  of  almost  the  whole  of  one  hemisphere) 
by  a  jet  of  water  so  as  to  avoid  htemorrhage,  and  still  recovery  of 
motor  power  took  place  after  a  time,  although  there  remained 
"  clumsiness  ia  the  execution  of  certain  movements."  His  opinion 
is  that  the  p,iralytic  phenomena  are  caused  by  the  injury  exciting 
m  inhibitory  action  on  lower  centres.  This  view,  substantially 
that  advocated  for  many  years  by  Brown-Scquard  does  not  explain 
why  it  is  that  gentle  irritation  of  the  centre  by  a  weak  Faradaic 
current  calls  forth  movements  of  a  definite  character.  The  evidence, 
therefore,  is  strongly  in  favour  of  the  view  that  there  are  definite 
motor  areas  of  grey  matter  on  the  cortex, — that  is,  in  ordinary 
circumstances  these  areas  are  intimately  related  to  specific  muscles 
or  groups  of  muscles.  It  is  quite  possible,  however,  that  each 
groap  of  muscles  does  not  depend  on  one  area  alone,  but  on  .several, 
whilst  it  is  more  intimately  related  to  one  than  to  the  others.  This 
would  account  also  for  the  fact  that  movements  of  a  group  of  muscles 
may  be  excited  by  stimulation  of  other  areas  than  those  mapped  out 
by  Ferrier  and  Hitzig.  Recently  areas  associated  with  definite  move- 
ments of  the  thorax,  abdomen,  and  pelvis  have  been  discovered  by 
Horsley  and  Schiifer,  and  thus  almost  uU  the  muscular  mechanisms 
have  been  connected  with  some  of  the  cerebral  convolutions. 

1  For  figures  of  human  brain  showing  motor  areas,  soo  Foster's  PhysioUtffy, 
Itb  ed.,  figs.  80  and  87,  pp.  627,  028. 


Ferrier  has  also  attempted  to  dilTerentiate  sensory  centres.  On 
stimulating  the  angular  gyrus  he  obtained  movements  of  the  eye 
and  associated  movements  of  the  head,  and  he  regarded  the  pheno- 
mena as  being  "  merely  reflex  movements  on  the  excitation  of  sub- 
jective visual  sensation."  He  then  found  that,  "when  the  angulaj 
gyrus  of  the  left  hemisphere  was  destroyed,  the  animal  was  Dlind 
on  the  right  eye  soon  after  the  operation',  but  recovered  sight  com- 
pletely on  the  folio-wing  day."  On  destroying  the  angular  gyri  o! 
both  hemispheres,  an  animal  became  permanently  blind  in  both 
eyes.  In  neither  case  was  there  motor  paralysis.  By  similar 
processes  of  thought  and  experiment  he  placed  the  auditory  centre 
in  the  superior  temporo- sphenoidal  convolution,  the  centres  ol 
taste  and  smell  at  the  extremity  of  the  temporo-sphenoidal  lobe, 
and  that  of  touch  in  the  gj-rus  uiieinatus  ancf  hippocampus  major. 
On  the  other  hand,  Goltz  asserts  that  even  after  removal  of  a  con- 
siderable part  of  the  cortex  the  animal  is  not  actually  blind,  but 
suffers  from  an  imperfection  of  sight ;  and  he  states  that  he  "  can 
no  more  obtain  distinct  evidence  of  localization  in  reference  to 
vision  or  other  sensations  than  in  reference  to  movements." 
Ferrier's  view  is  supported  by  the  observations  of  Slunk,  who  finds 
that  destruction  of  a  considerable  portion  of  the  occipital  lobe: 
causes,  blindness.  Munk  has  put  forth  the  important  distinction 
that  there  may  be  blindness  in  the  sense  of  total  deprivation  o{ 
■vision,  and  "  psychical  blindness,"  or  the  "inability  to  form  an 
inteUigent  comprehension- of  the  visual  impressions  received  ";  and 
he  supposes  that  the  grey  matter  of  the  cortex  over  the  occipital 
lobes  has  to  do  with  the  elaboration  of  simple  visual  impressions 
into  perceptions.  In  like  manner  he  concludes  that  other  parts  of 
the  cortex  may  have  to  do  with  the  elaboration  of  tactile,  olfactory, 
gustatory,  and  auditory  sensations.  This  is  a  likely  hypothesis, 
and  not  very  dissimilar  to  'what  has  been  held  for  many  years, 
the  only  novelty  being  that  there  is  localization  in  these  actions. 
At  present  the  question  cannot  be  regarded  as  settled  ;  but  it  may 
be  stated  generally  that  the  posterior  portion  of  the  brain  has  to 
do  chiefly  mth  the  reception  of  sensory  impressions,  and  the 
middle  and  lateral  regions  with  the  transmission  outwards  of  motor 
impulses.  But  thete  still  remains  the  anterior  portion.  Electrical 
irritation  of  the  prae-frontal  region  of  the  cortex  in  the  monkey 
causes  no  motor  reaction.  Complete  destruction  causes  no  paralysis 
of  motion  and  iio  sensory  disturbance.     Dr  Ferrier  states  : — 

"Removal  or  destruction  by  the  cautery  of  the  antero-frontal  lobes  is  not 
followed  by  any  definite  physiological  results.  The  animals  retain  their 
appetites  and  iustincts,  anci  are  capable  of  exhibiting  emotional  feeling.  The 
sensory  faculties— sight,  hearing,  touch,  taste,  and  smell — remain  unimpaired. 
The  powers  of  voluntary  motion  are  retained  in  their  integrity;  and  there  U 
little  to  indicate  the  presence  of  such  an  extensive  lesion  or  a  removal  of  so 
large  a  part  of  the  brain.  And  yet,  notwithstanding  this  apparent  absence  of 
physiological  symptoms,  I  could  perceive  a  very  decided  alteration  in  the 
animal's  character  and  behaviour,  though  it  is  difficult  to  state  in  precise  terms 
the  nature  of  the  change.  The  animals  operated  on  were  selected-on  account 
of  their  intelligent  character.  After  the  operation,  though  they  might  seem  to 
one  wlio  had  not  compared  their  present  with  the  past  fairly  up  to  the  average 
of  monkey  intelligence,  they  had  undergone  a  considerable  psychological  altera- 
tion. .  Instead  or,  as  before,  being  actively  interested  in  their  surroundings,  and 
curiously  prying  into  all  that  came  within  the  field  of  their  observation,  they 
remained  apathetic  or  dull,  or  dozed  off  to  sleep,  responding  only  to  sensations 
or  impressions  of  the  moment,  or  varying  their  listlessne-ls  with  restless  and 
purposeless  wanderings  to  and  fro.  While  not  actually  deprived  of  intelli- 
gence, they  had  lost  to  all  appearance  the  faculty  of  attentive  add  intelligent 
observation"  {Functions  of  the  Brain,  1st  ed.,  p.  'J31). 

Thus  the  frontal  lobes. appear  to  have  to  do  -with  cognition  and 
intellectual  action.  If  so,  the  grey  matter  on  the  surface  of  the 
brain  may  bo  mapped  out  into  three  gicat  areas — an  area  concerned 
in  cognitions  and  volitions  in  front,  a  motor  or  ideo-motor  area  in 
the  middle,  and  a  sensory  area  behind.  These  distinctions  are  no 
doubt  arbitrary  to  a  considerable  extent ;  but,  if  they  are  retained 
as  the  expressions  of  a  working  hypothesis,''  they  are  of  service. 
Long  ago,  and  prior  to  tho  researches  above  alluded  to,  Dr 
Hughlings  Jackson  pointed  out  that  disease  of  certain  areas  of  grey 
matter  on  the  cortex  of  the  hemispheres  may  occasion  opilepliforro 
convulsions,  localized  to  particular  groups  of  muscles.  The  theory 
of  the  localizatiou  of  motor- functions  has  been  of  great  service  in 
tho  diagnosis  and  prognosis  of  such  diseases.  As  to  the  localization 
of  tho  faculty  of  language  in  tho  third  left  frontal  convolution, 
founded  on  pathological  evidence,  see  ArnAsiA,  vol.  ii.  p.  171. 

The  functions  of  the  nervous  sj-stem  have  now  been  described ; 
but  they  are  so  complicated  and  so  closely  related  to  each  other 
as  to  make  it  no  easy  matter  to  form  a  conception  of  tho  system 
working  as  a  whole.  Tho  progress  of  discoverv  naturally  tends  to 
differentiation,  and  probably  to  attach  too  much  ini|>oi  tanco  to  one 
organ  as  compared  with  the  others,  so  that  we  are  in  danger  of 
losing  sight  of  tho  solidarity  of  the  whole  nervous  system.  Probably 
every  nervous  action,  however  minute  and  evanescent,  affects  mom 
or  less  the  entire  system,  and  thus  there  may  bo  an  ondcr-currenl 
of  nervous  action  streaming  into  and  out  of  the  nerve-centres, 
along  with  a  perpetual  scries  of  interactions  in  the  centres  them- 
selves, contributing  to  and  accounting  for  the  apparent  continuity 
of  conscious  experience.  Certain  relations  of  one  ncrve-ccntio.to 
tho  others  are  indicated  in  fig.  31.  No  one  now  doubts  that  con-' 
sciousnc-ss  has  an  anatomical  substratum,  but  tho  (^eat  problem 
of  the  relation  botweon  tho  two  is  oa  far  from  solution  as  in  the 

-XIX    —  6 


42 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[NEEVOtrS  STSTESt 


days  when  little  or  nothing  was  known  of  the  physiology  of  the 

nervous   system.      Consciousness  has   been   diiven  step   by  step 

apwards  until  now  it  takes  refuge 

in  a  few  thousand  nerve-cells  in 

s  portion  of  the  giey  matter  of  the 

cortex  of  the  brain.  The  ancients 

believed  that  the  body  partici- 
pated in  the  feelings  of  the  mind, 

and  that,  in  a  real  sense,  the  heart 

might   be   torn    by    contending 

emotions.     As  science  advauced, 

■sonsciousness  took  refuge  in  the 

brain,  first  in  the  medulla  and 

lastly  in  the  cortex.     But  even 

supposing  we  are  ultimately  able 

to  understand  all  the  phenomena 

.4— chemical,  physical,  physiologi- 
cal— of  this  intricate  ganglionic 

mechanism  we  shall  be  no  nearer 

s  solution  of  the  problem  of  the 

connexion  between  the  objective 

and    subjective    aspects    of   the 

phenomena.      It  is  no  solution 

to   resolve   a   statement   of   the 

phenomena    into    mental   terms 

or  expressions  and  to  be  content 

with  pure  idealism ;  nor  is  it  any 

better  to  resolve  all  the  pheno- 
mena of  mind  into  terms  describ- 
ing  physical    conditions,    as   in 

pure  materialism.    A  philosophy 

that  recognizes  both  sets  of  phe-  Fia- 3i--J>f-,  ""'sj.if:  ?^vjl'''' :  ^'i'^- 

nomena,  mutually  adjusted  and     wor.,  motor  centre;  G.SE.,  centre  if 

general  sensation ;  S.SE.,  centre  of 
special  sensation:  C.EQ..  sense  of  equi- 
librium; ro/.., volitional  centre;  EM., 
emotional  centi'2  ;  ID.,  ideationnl  cen- 
tre ;  £7.,  eye;  £^.,  ear  ,  rj.,  taste  ; 
SM.,  smell ;  V.,  vessel ;  C,  gland  ; 
Hi-K,  heart  and  vessels  ;  ELO..  elec- 
tric organs  in  some  fishes.  The  arrows 
indicate  direction  of  currents,  by  fol- 
loiring  which  the  influence  of  one 
centre  over  another  may  be  studied. 


ever  interacting,  may  be  no  ex 

planation  ;  but  at  all  events  it  is 

unpretentious,    recognizes   facts, 

and  does  not  delude  the  mind  by 

offering  a  colution  which  is  no 

solution  at  all.     But  apart  from 

the  ultimate  question  there  is  the 

important  one  of  whether  phy- 
siologists are  on  the  whole  right 

in  relegating  sensation  or  consciousness  entirely  to  the  grey  matter 

«f  the  brain.     Tlie  facts  of  comparative  physiology  are  against 

such  an  exclusive  notion,  because  we  cannot  deny  consciousness 
to  many  animals  having  rudimentary  nervous  systems.    As  already 

said,  research  in  anatomy  and  physiology  and  the  observation  of 
disease  have  driven  physiologists  to  adopt  the  view  that  the 
brain  is  the  organ  of  seusation.  This  is  no  doubt  true  in  the 
sense  that  it  ultimately  receives  all  those  nervous  impressions  that 
result  in  consciousness  ;  but  the  parts  transmitting  the  nervous 
impressions  are  in  another  sense  as  much  concerned  in  the  produc- 
tion of  conscious  states  as  the  brain.  This  view  of  the  matter,  put 
forward  by  Professor  John  Cleland  in  1870,  has  not  received  from 
psychologists  the  attention  it  deserves.  His  thesis  is — 
"  that  the  consciousness  extends  from  its  special  seat  so  far  as  there  ia  COD- 
tinuity  of  the  impressed  condition ;  that  when  an  irritation  is  applied  to  a 
Berve-exiremity  in  a  finger  or  elsewhere  the  impression  (or  rather  impressed 
condition)  travels,  as  is  generally  understood,  but  exists  for  at  least  a  niomeut 
Along  the  whole  length  of  the  nerve,  and  that  as  soon  as  there  is  continuity  of 
the  impressed  condition  from  finger  to  brain  the  consciousness  is  in  connexion 
with  the  nerve  and  is  directly  aware  of  the  irritation  at  the  nerve-extremity" 
^Evolution,  Expression,  and  Sensation,  Glasgow,  1851,  p.  106). 

This  view  is  quite  consistent  with  all  the  facts  of  nervous  physio- 
logy and  presents  fewer  difficulties  than  the  one  generally  held, 
■which  drives  consciousness  into  the  recesses  of  the  nerve-cells  in 
the  cortex  of  the  cerebral  hemispheres.  It  appears  to  keep  clear  of 
the  prevailing  error  in  the  philosophy  of  modern  physiology, — that 
of  regarding  the  body  and  even  the  nervous  system  as'a'vast  series 
of  almost  independent  organs,  losing  sight  of  the  community  of 
function  and  interdependence  of  parts,  characteristic  of  the  body 
of  one  of  the  higher  animals. 

ClRCnL.tTION  IN  THE  BRAnf. 

-  A  due  supply  of  healthy  arterial  blood  and  the  removal  of  venous 
blood  are  essential  to  cerebral  activity.  The  brain  is  contained  in 
an  osseous  case  of  which  the  total  capacity  is  vaiiable.  The  cere- 
bral substance  undergoes  almost  insignificant  changes  of  volume 
even  under  a  pressure  of  180  mm.  of  mercury.  The  quantity  of 
blood  in  the  cranium  may  vary.  In  the  rabbit  not  more  than  1 
per  cent,  of  the  total  quantity  of  blood  of  the  body  (equal  to  about 
5  per  cent,  of  the  total  weight  of  the  organ)  is"  present  at  any 
one  time  in  the  brain,  whereas  in  the  kidney,  by  weight,  the  blood 
in-iy  amount  to  nearly  12  per  cent.,  and  in  the  liver  to  as  much  as 
nearly  30  per  cent,  (foster).  If  a  small  round  window  be  made  in 
the  cranium  and  a  suitable  piece  of  glass  fitted  into  it,  the  veins 
of  the  pia  mater  may  be  observed  to  dilate  or  contract  if  inter- 
.ttediate  pressure  be  made  on  the  veins  of  the  neck.     Tli«^  is 


evidently,  then,  within  the  cranium  some  arrangement  by  which 
such  variations  become  possible.  This  is  probably  accomplisbed  by 
the  anatomical  arrangements  of  the  sub-arachnoid  spaces.  These 
spaces,  containing  fluid,  communici  le  freely  with  each  other  an<i 
with  the  space  surrounding  the  spinal  cord,  so  that  when  the  quan> 
tity  of  blood  increases  in  the  cranium  a  corresponding  quantity 
of  fluid  escapes  into  the  spinal  space,  the  walls  of  which  are  not 
inextensible  like  those  of  the  cranium.  In  young  children,  before 
the  fontanelles  are  closed,  the  variations  of  circulation  and  blood- 
pressure  cause  pulsations,  of  which  there  are  two  kinds — those 
coinciding  with  the  ventricular  systole,  produced  by  the  pulsation 
of  the  arteries  at  the  base  of  the  brain,  and  those  coinciding  with 
expiration.  Pressure  on  the  brain-substance  beyond  a  limit  leads 
to  paralysis,  unconsciousness,  and  death.  The  large  sinuses  prob- 
ably assist  in  equalizing  internal  pressure,  and,  as  inspiration  favours 
the  flow  of  blood  from  the  sinuse»,  too  great  distension  of  these  is 
also  avoided.  Vaso-motor  nen'es  regulate  the  calibre  of  the  arteri- 
oles of  the  brain,  but  we  know  nothing  of  the  conditions  aflecting 
the  nerves.  Nor  do  we  know  how  the  waste-products  of  the  brain 
are  got  rid  of.  There  are  no  lymphatic  vessels,  but  there  are  spaces 
around  many  of  the  vessels.  These  probably  communicate  with 
the  cavities  in  the  membrane  containing  the  cerebrospinal  fluid, 
the  value  of  which,  as  suggested  by  Foster,  "  depends  in  all  prob« 
ability  more  on  its  physiological  properties  as  lymph  than  ou  ita 

1 *- 


Fio.  52.— Injected  convolution  of  cerebram  (Buret).  1,  1,  medullary  arteries  ; 
1',  group  of  medullary  arteries  in  fiss'ire  between  two  neiglibouring  con- 
volutions ;  1",  arteries  of  system  of  arcuate  fibres ;  2,  2,  2,  arteries  of  grey 
substance  of  cortex ;  a,  large-meshed  capillary  network  situated  under  pia 
mater;  b,  smaller-meshed  capillary  network  situated  in  middle  layers  ol 
cortex;  e,  somewhat  larger  network  in  internal  layers  adjoiniog  white  sa^ 
stance  ;  d,  capillary  network  of  white  substjuice. 

mechanical  properties  as  a  mere  fluid."  The  grey  matter  is  much 
more  richly  supplied  with  caoillaries  than  the  white  matter,  as  seen 
in  fig.  32. 

Cranial  Nerves. 

fhe  general  anatomy  of  these  nerves  is  described  under  Axatomt/ 
vol.  i.  p.  850  sq.,  and  it  remains  only  to  enumerate  their  functions. 
Their  deep  roots  have  also  been  alluded  to  in  treating  of  the  medulla 
oblongata  and  the  pons  Varolii  above. 

1.  The  olfactory  nerve.     The  ner\'e  of  smell  (see  Suell). 

2.  The  lypiic  nerve.     The  nen-'e  of  sight  (see  Eve). 

3.  The  ocido-vtotor  or  third  nerve, -r-motOT,  supplying  all  the  mosclea  of  the 
eyeball  except  the  superior  oblique  and  external  rectus ;  it  also  supplies  tie 
circular  fibres  of  tl.e  iris  and  the  ciliary  muscle  (see  Eye). 

4.  The  pcUheiic  or  /burlh  jutw,— motor,  supplying  the  superior  obUqae 
mnscle. 

5.  'The  trlgeminaX  or  fftJi  tierve.  It  has  three  branches  :  (A)  Tlie  ojtkthalmie 
division  of  the  fifth,  or  nerve  of  Willis,  is  sensory  and  supplies  (a)  the  skin  oC 
the  forehead,  the  eyebrow,  the  upper  eyelid,  the  root  and  lobule  of  the  nose  ; 

(b)  the  palpebral  and  ocular  conjunctiva,  the  mucous  membrane  of  the  lacrymal 
passages,  the  frontal  sinuses,  the  upper  part  of  the  nasal  mucous  membrane; 

(c)  the  cornea,  the  iris,  the  choroid,  and  the  sclerotic  ;  id)  the  periosteum  and 
bones  of  the  frontal,  orbital,  and  nasal  regions  ;  and  (e)  muscular  sensibility 
to  the  intra  orbital  muscles.  It  also  influences  the  secretion  of  the  lacrymal 
gland.  It  contains  the  fibres  from  the  sj-mpathetic  governing  the  radiating 
fibres  of  the  iris  (see  Eye),  and  also  the  vaso-motor  fibres  for  the  iris,  choroid, 
and  retina.  It  is  associated  with  the  otic  ganglion.  (B)  The  superior  mfixiUary 
division  of  the  fifth  furnishes  sensory  branches  tn  (a)  the  skin  of  the  lower 
eyelid,  alie  of  the  nose,  upper  lip,  and  skin  covering  the  malar  bone;  (fc)  the 
mucous  membrane  of  the  nasal,  pharyngfal,  ani  palatine  regions,  the  maxil- 
lary stnusfs,  the  gums,  the  upper  lip,  and  the  Eustachian  tube  ;  (c)  the  peri- 
osteum of  the  bones  corresponding  to  ita  distribution  ;  and  (<i)  the  teeth  oi  the 
upper  Jaw.    It  furnishes  filaments  to  the  nasal  and  palatine  glands,  and  prolv 


VEGETABLE.] 


PHYSIOLOGY 


43 


ably  to  Uie  glands  of  the  velmil  palati.  It  contains  vaso-motor  fibres  from 
the  sympatlielic  for  the  vessels,  and  la  associated  with  the  sphcno- palatine 
ganglion.  (C)  Tlic  inferior  majilUtry  division  of  the  fifth  contains  sensory 
branches  to  (a)  tlie  .sltiu  of  the  cheeks,  temples,  lower  lip,  chin,  front  part  of 
Ihe  car,  and  external  auditory  canal ;  (b)  the  mucous  membrane  of  the  cheeks, 
lips,  gums,  front  part  of  the  tongue,  the  mucous  membrane  of  the  tympanum, 
and  tne  mastoid  cells  ;  (c)  tlie  periosteum  of  the  lower  jaw  and  temporal  bones  ; 
((f)  the  teeth  of  the  lower  jaw ;  (e)  the  temporo-maxillary  articulation ;  and 
(/>  the  muscles  in  the  nciijlibourliood  (muscular  sensibility).  It  thus  exercises 
an  influence  on  taste,  hearing,  and  secretion  (see  Nutkition).  It  contains 
vasomotor  fibres  for  the  blood-vessels.  Its  motor  branch  is  distributed  to 
the  muscles  of  mastication  ;  and  it  is  related  to  two  ganglia,  the  otic  and  the 
sub.  maxillary. 

6.  The  sixth  nerve  ia  motor,  and  Bupplies.thc  external  rectus  muscle  of  the 
eyeball  only. 

7.  The  facial  or  uventk  nerve  ts  purely  motor,  and  supplies  all  the  muscles 
of  expression.  It  also  contains  secretory  fibres  influencing  the  action  of  the 
aalivary  glands  (see  Nutrition).  Some  assert  that  the  chorda  tymijani  con- 
tains gustatory  fibres,  Ijut  the  question  has  not  been  settled.  Claude  Bernard 
found  tlint  the  facial  contains  vaso-motor  fibres. 

8.  The  atiditory  or  eitjhth  nerve  is  the  nerve  of  hearing  (see  Ear).  In  addition 
to  purely  auditory  filamentd  it  contains  fibres  from  the  semicircular  canals 
having  to  do  with  inipies.sions  of  movement  in  space  (see  pp.  3S,  S'>). 

9.  The  glosso-pharynf;ent  nerve  is  sensory  to  (a)  the  mucous  membrane  of  the 
posterior  part  of  the  tongue  (nerve  of  taste),  the  pillars  of  tlie  fauces,  the  anterior 
face  of  the  epiglottis,  and  the  tonsils :  and  (/<)  the  mucous  membrane  of  the 
tympanum,  the  fenestra  ovalis  and  fenestra  rotunda  (see  Ear),  the  mastoid 
cells,  and  the  Eustachian  tube  along  with  the  fiftli.  It  probably  supplies  motor 
fl'jres  to  the  muscles  of  the  pharynx,  but  this  is  doubtful.  Vnlpian  states  that 
it  contains  vaso-dilator  fibres  for  the  vessels  of  the  posterior  third  of  the  tongue. 

10.  The  pneumngitslric  or  vngtts  nerve  has  many  complicated  actions.  (A)  It  is 
aensitive  to  («)  the  mucous  membrane  of  all  the  respiratory  passages,  includ- 
ing specially  tha  larynx ;  (b)  the  heart ;  (c)  a  portion  of  the  digestive  tube, 
namely,  the  base  of  the  t'in<'ue,  the  velum  palati,  the  pharynx,  oesophagus, 
stomach,  and  probably  the  duodenum  ;  (d)  it  confers  muscular  sensibility  on 
the  liiuscles  to  which  it  is  diatrilmted  ;  (c)  the  mucous  membrane  of  the  biliary 
passages ;  if)  a  part  of  the  dura  mater  corresponding  to  the  *ransverse  and 
occipital  sinuses ;  (3)  the  posterior  part  of  the  auditory  canal.  By  the  laryn- 
geal branches  It  specially  stimulates  expiratory  movements-  (B)  It  is  motor 
to  (a)  many  of  the  muscles  of  the  palate  ;  (b)  the  constrictors  of  the  pharynx  ; 
(c)  the  oesopliagus ;  (d)  the  larynx  by  (o)  the  superior  laryngeal  to  the  crico- 
thyroid muscle  and  a  portion  of  the  arytenoid,  and  .by  (/3)  the  inferior  or 
recurrent  laryngeal  to  the  rest  of  the  muscles  of  the  larj-nx  ;  and  (c)  to  the 
muscular  fibres  of  the  bronchial  tubes.  (C)  It  contains  vaso-inhibitoiy  fibres 
for  the  heart.  In  connevion  with  this  organ  the  vagus  also  contains  sensor>' 
fibres  and  fibres  belonging  to  the  depressor  system.  (D)  It  influences  secretion 
in  the  stoniacli  (.-^ee  Nutrition);  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  it  has  any  action 
on  the  reii.al  secretiun.  (E)  It  influences  tlte  production  £>f  glycogen'  in  the 
liver  (Ace  Nutrition). 

11.  The  spinal  accessory  is  a  motor  nerve  supplying  the  steroo.cleido.mastoid 
muscle  ami  the  trapezius.  It  gives  an  Important  branch  to  the  vagus  (internal 
branch),  which  supplies  all  the  motor  fibres  in  that  nerve  distributed  to  the 
larynx,  except  those  in  the  superior  laryngeal  supplying  the  crico-thyroid 
muscle,  and  also  the  motor  fibres  of  the  vagus  sent  to  the  pharynx.  Accord. 
Ingto  lluiUeiilittin,  it  also  supplies  the  vagus  with  the  inhibitory  cardiac  fibres. 

12.  Tht:  ]iypogh'3yal  is  cNclusively  a  motor  nerve  supplying  the  muscles  of 
the  tongue  and  a^o  the  sub-hyoid  muscles  (see  A>*atouy).  It  also  co^tains 
vaso-motor  filaments. 

Spikal  Nerves. 

nal  The  spinal  corJ  gives  origin  in  its  course  to  thirty-one  pairs  of 
ves.  spinal  nervca,  each  ncive  having  two  root',  anterior  and  posterior, 
the  latter  being  'listinguishcd  by  its  gi'catcr  thickness  and  by  the 
presence  of  an  enlargement  called  a  ganglion,  in  which  are  found 
numerous  bi-polar  cells.  The  anterior  root  is  motor,  the  posterior 
sensory.  The  nii.'ccd  nerve  after  junction  of  the  roots  contains  (a) 
sensory  fibres  jiassiiig  to  the  posterior  roots  ;  [b]  mol.>r  fibres  com- 
ing from  the  anterior  roots  ;  («)  sympathetic  fibres,  either  vaso- 
motor or  vaso-dilator. 

Sympathetic  Etstem. 

The  fibres  of  the  sympathetic  system  consist  of  two  kinds — (1) 
of  grey  or  gelatinous  fibic.i,  destitnto  of  the  white  substance  of 
'Schwann  ;  and  (2)  of  mednUated  fibres  similar  to  those  met  with 
in  the  ceicbro- spinal  centres.  The  grey  fibres  originate  in  the 
ganglia  so  jircvalcnt  in  the  sympathetic  system,  whilst  the 
incdullatcd  librcs  are  believed  to  come  from  the  cerebro- spinal 
system.  The  trunk  of  the  gicat  sympathetic  nerve  consists  of  a 
chain  of  swellings  or  ganglia,  connected  by  intermediate  cords  of 
j?roy  nervc-fibres,  and  extending  nearly  symmetrically  on  each  side 
of  the  yertebral  column,   from   the  base  of  the  cranium  to  the 


coccyx.  On  this  part  of  the  nerve  tnenty-fonr  ganglia  are  placed 
on  each  side.  This  great  trunk,  as  it  passes  along  the  spine,  is 
connected  with  the  spinal  nerves,  the  connecting  hbres  being  of 
the  two  kinds  already  described.  The  grey  fibres  dominate  in  tho 
sympatlietic  nerves,  and  tlie  niedullated  in  the  ccrebro-spinal ;  and 
these  two  elements  arc  mixed  in  various  proportions  in  botli  of  the 
great  divisions  of  the  nervous  system.  At  tlieir  lower  extremities 
the  main  trunks  of  opposite  sides  generally  unite  in  tho  middle 
line  ;  and  at  the  upper  ends  each  tmuk,  after  being  connected  with 
the  eiglith  and  ninth  cranial  nerves,  extends  to  the  cranium,  passes 
into  that  cavity  along  with  the  internal  carotid  artery,  and  there, 
as  well  as  in  other  situations,  comes  into  connexion  with  all  the 
remaining  cranial  nerves,  e.\cept  the  olfactory,  auditory,  and  optic. 
This  conjunction  may  be  etfected  directly,  as  with  the  fourth,  sixth, 
and  ninth  nerves  ;  or  through  a  ganglion,  as  the  ophthalmic,  with 
the  third  and  fifth  ;  the  sphcno-palatine,  otic,  and  sub-maxillary, 
with  the  fifth  and  seventh,  or  facial ;  the  geniculate,  with  the 
seventh  or  facial ;  the  jugular,  with  the  glosso- pharyngeal ;  and 
with  the  vagus,  through  one  of  its  own  ganglia.  On  the  fibres  ol 
the  sympathetic  distributed  to  the  viscera  numerous  ganglia,  or 
plexuses  in  which  ganglia  exist,  are  met  with,  and  frcijueutly  there 
is  a  plexus  following  the  course  of  each  vessel. 

As  to  the  functions  of  the  sympathetic,  experiment  has  led  to 
the  following  conclusions. 

(a.)  Tho  vaso-motor  fibres  of  the  head  are  supplied  by  the  cervical 
portion  of  tho  sympathetic,  and  originate  in  tho  cervical  region  of 
the  cold,  proceeding  from  it  by  the  anterior  roots  of  the  lower 
cervical  and  upper  dorsal  nerves.  The  fibres  supplying  the  radiat- 
ing fibres  of  the  iris  also  come  from  that  region  (see  Eve). 

(b.)  The  vaso-viotors  0/ the  vpper  limbs  and  of  the  thorax  come 
(a)  from  the  inferior  cervical  and  supeiior  thoracic  ganglia,  and 
(/3)  from  tho  cord,  by  romnmuicating  branches  between  the  third 
and  seventh  dorsal  vertebrae. 

(c.)  Ths  raso-motor fibres  0/ the  loK'er  limbs  come  from  the  cord 
through  the  sciatic  and  crural  nerves,  whilst  those  of  the  pelvic 
organs  are  derived  from  the  abdominal  ganglia  of  the  sympathetic. 

{d.)  The  vaso-motors  of  the  abdominal  viscera  exist  chielly  in  the 
splanchnic  nerves  ;  some  fibres  supplying  the  stomach  appear  to 
be  derived  from  the  pncumogastric. 

(c.)  The  S2>lanchnic  nerves  all  arise  in  man  from  the  thoracic 
gnnglia  of  the  sympathetic — the  greater  splanchnic  from  the  fifth  to 
tho  tenth  ganglia,  tne  lesser  splanchnic  from  the  tenth  and  eleventh, 
and  the  smallest  splanchnic  from  tho  twelfth  ganglion.  The 
splanchnics  supply  the  stomach,  liver,  spleen,  pancreas,  intestines, 
and  kidneys.  Division  causes  dilatation  of  vessels  ;  imtation 
causes  contraction  of  vessels,  and  appears  also  to  arrest  or  inhibit 
peristaltic  motions  of  the  stomach  and  intestines.  Probably  they 
also  contain  secretory  filaments.  The  functions  of  vaso-motor 
nerves  have  been  already  described. 

A  very  complete  bibliography  of  works  relating  to  tho  nervous  system  will 
be  found  in  tlie  Viclionnaire  Encydopidiqve  des  Sciences  MidicateSt  2d  ser.,  xii. 
p.  619.  For  the  comparative  anatomy  of  Invertebrates  consult  Gegenltauer, 
KIcmenU  of  Comparative  Anatomy  (trans,  and  rev.  by  F.  Jefl"rey  Bell  and  E.  Ray 
Lankester,  I/>ndon,  1878) ;  for  the  comparative  anatomy  of  verteliratcs,  Owen, 
Anatomy  of  Vertebrates  (3  vols.,  London,  1806) ;  for  details  in  human  anatomy, 
Quain,  EUmcuta  of  Anatomy  (Litli  cd.,  ed.  by  Allen  Thomson,  E.  A.  Schafer,  and 
G.  D.  Thane,  Lonilon,  18S2) ;  for  general  physiology,  Foster,  Teit-Booti  of  Phytio- 
lofjy  (4th  ed.,  London,  1S83) ;  for  special  details  in  physiology,  H.  Beaunis, 
Nouvcatix  Elements  de  Phybioloyie  Humaine  (2d  ed.,  I'aris,  IbSl);  (specially 
for  the  functions  of  the  cranial  nerves)  Flint,  rhysiology  of  Man  (vol.  v..  New 
York,  1872):  Kerrier,  On  the  Functions  of  the  Brain  (London,  18713,  also  new 
ed.) :  Meynert,  "On  the  Brain  of  Manunals,"  in  Strieker's  71/ani'nf  of  Human 
and  Comparative  Histology  (vol.  fi.,  the  New  Syd.  Soc,  London,  1872) :  Flechsig, 
Die  Leitnngtbalinen  im  Gthirn  und  Riickrnmark  des  Menschen  (l>'i|>sic,  1876), 
also  '*Zur  Anatomic  und  Entwickelungsgcschichto  dcr  Leitungsbahnen  Im 
Grosshirn  des  Menschen,"  in  Du  Bols-iteyinond's  Archivfiir  Anatomie(Lti^ic, 
1881):  Giulden,  "  Experimeiitnluntersuchungen  Uber  das  periphcrische  und 
centrala  Nervensystem,"  in  Arch.  f.  Psychialrie  (vol.  1!.,  13iii>,  p.  711):  Hltzlg, 
Untersuchitngen  iitier  das  Oehirninovf  series,  1871) :  Ooltz,  "  L'eber  die  Vcrricht- 
ungen  des  Grosshirns,"  in  nlilger's  Archiv  (l-'*7(j),  also  *'The  discussion  on 
the  localization  of  function  in  the  cortex  cerebri,"  in  Trans,  of  Inter.  Med. 
Cong.  (vol.  i.,  1881,  J>.  218):  Munk,  Ueber  die  Functtancn  der  Urotshirnrindt 
(Berlin,  issi);  Boss,  Treatise  on  the  Disetuet  (ff  the  tiervoua  Syjfrm  (2d  cd., 
London,  1883).  (J.  O.  H.) 


PAKT  III.— PHYSIOLOGY  OF  PLAJ^TS. 


The  body  of  a  plant,  like  tliat  of  an  animal,  consists  of 
one  or  more  structural  units  which  are  termed  "  cells,"  and 
in  plants,  as  in  animals,  tlio  cell  consists  essentially  of  an 
individualized  mass  of  protoplasm. 

The  probable  structure  and  chemical  composition  of 
protoplasm  Lave  been  already  considered.  It  need  only 
be  stated  here  that  the  protoplasmic  cell-contents  do  not 
consist  of  pure  protoplasm,  but  that  the  protoplasm  con- 
tains imbedded  in  it  particles  of  various  substances  which 
may  be  of  the  nature  of  food,  or  which  may  have  been 
formed  from  food,  or  which  are  products  of  the  met;ibolism 
of  protoplasm ;  it  is  to  the  presence  of  these  particles  that 


the  granular  appearance  of  protoplasm  is  largely  due. 
Moreover,  there  is  jiresent  in  tho  protoplasm  of  the  cell, 
in  the  vast  majority  of  cases  at  least,  a  welldefiued,  highly- 
refractive,  usually  somewhat  spherical  body,  also  proto- 
plasmic in  nature,  the  nucleus. 

The  cell  or  cells  constituting  the  body  of  a  plant  pre- 
sent, in  most  cases,  the  important  peculiarity  that  the 
protoplasm  is  eiiclo.scd  in  a  membrane  termed  tho  "  cell- 
wall."  This  membrane  does  not  consist  of  protoplasm,  but 
of  a  substance,  cellulose,  belonging  to  the  group  oi  the 
carbohydrates,  and  having  the  formula  arCjHjjOj.  All 
cell-walls  do  not,  however,  consist  exclusively  of  tlus  sub- 


44 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[vegetable. 


stance,  though  this  is  probably  always  the  case  at  their 
first  formation ;  but  the  cell-waU  may  undergo  consider- 
able modification  during  the  life  of  the  cell.  It  may,  for 
example,  undergo  llgnification ;  it  then  comes  to  consist 
'largely  of  a  substance  termed  "  lignin,"  which  is  much  richer 
in  carbon  than  is  cellulose ;  this  takes  place  typically  in 
those  cells  which  form  woody  or  sclerenchymatous  tissue. 
Or  it  may  undergo  cuticularLzation,  when  it  comes  to 
consist  largely  of  a  substance  termed  "  suberin  "  or  "  cutin," 
which,  like  lignin,  is  richer  in  carbon  than  cellulose.  Or, 
again,  it  may  become  gummy  or  mucilaginous.  These 
chemical  differences  are  accompanied  by  diiferences  in  the 
physical  properties  of  the  cell-wall.  A  ceUulose  cell-waU 
is  extensible,  capable  of  swelling  from  taking  up  water 
into  itself  by  imbibition,  and  is  readily  traversed  by 
water.  A  lignified  or  cuticularLzed  cell-wall  is  more  rigid 
and  less  capable  of  swelling  by  imbibition ;  moreover,  a 
cuticularized  cell -wall  is  almost  impermeable  to  water. 
A  gummy  or  mucilaginous  cell-wall  is  more  extensible  and 
more  capable  of  swelling  by  imbibition. 
Strnc-  The  structure  of  the  plant-cell  is  not  the  same  at  all 

tare  of    periods  of  its  life.     When  a  cell  is  young  the  protoplasm 
""  occupies  the  whole  of  the  cavity  enclosed-by  the  cell-wall. 

But  in  the  course  of  growth  the  increase  in  bulk  of  the 
protoplasm  is  not  nearly  so  great  as  the  increase  in  sur- 
face of  the  cell-wall,  so  that  in  the  mature  cell  the  proto- 
plasmic contents  form  merely  a  rather  thin  layer  known 
as  the  primordial  utricle,  which  lies  in  close  contact  with 
the  internal  surface  of  the  cell -wall  at  all  points.  There 
thus  comes  to  be  a  relatively  large  cavity  in  the  cell, 
the  vacuole,  which  is  filled  with  a  liquid,  the  cell-sap, 
consisting  of  water  holding  various  substances,  organic 
and  inorganic,  in  solution.  The  structure  of  a  mature 
living  cell  is  then  this :  it  consists  of  a  cell- wall,  lined 
with  a  layer  of  protoplasm,  which  encloses  the  vacuole, 
filled  with  cell-sap. 
Func-  The  protoplasm  of  plants  is  endowed  with  all  those 

tions  of  fundamental  properties  which  are  possessed  by  that  of 
animals.  When  a  plant  is  unicellular  these  properties  are 
all  exhibited,  so  far  as  they  are  necessary  to  the  main- 
tenance of  the  organism,  by  its  protoplasm ;  in  other 
words,  all  the  necessary  vital  functions  are  performed  by 
the  protoplasm  of  the  single  cell  of  which  the  plant  con- 
sists. The  performance  of  all  the  necessary  vital  functions 
by  the  protoplasm  of  one  cell  obtains  also  in  the  case  of 
not  a  few  multicellular  plants, — in  those,  namely,  in  which 
all  the  cells  are  similar  to  each  other  in  structure  and 
contents.  In  the  great  majority  of  multicellular  plants, 
however,  the  functions  are  distributed  to  a  greater  or  a  less 
extent;  there  is  more  or  less  complete  physiological  division 
of  labour.  In  these  plants  the  cells  are  not  all  similar  in 
appearance,  and  their  diversity  is  to  be  ascribed  to  their 
adaptation  in  different  ways  to  the  performance  of  parti- 
cular functions.  Further,  the  cells  which  have  undergone 
modification  in  some  particular  direction  for  the  perform- 
ance of  some  particidar  function  are  grouped  together  in 
certain  parts,  of  the  plant,  and  these  parts  are  spoken  of 
as  "  organs."  Thus  the  roots  of  one  of  the  higher  plants 
are  the  organs  for  the  absorption  from  the  soil  of  water 
and  substances  in  solution ;  the  leaves  are  the  organs  for 
the  absorption  of  gases  from  the  air,  and,  in  virtue  of 
the  green  colouring-matter  chlorophyll,  which  their  cells 
contain,  they  are  also  the  organs  in  which  certain  im- 
portant constructive  processes  are  carried  on.  But  the 
extent  to  which  physiological  division  of  labour  is  car- 
ried out  in  plants  is  not  nearly  so  considerable  as  it  is 
in  animals,  and  accordingly  the  protoplasm  of  the  dif- 
ferent cells  of  plants  exhibits  only  in  a  very  slight  degree 
that  specialization  of  structure  which  is  so  conspicuous  in 

animnls 


Absorption. 

\.  Absorption  of  Water  and  Substances  in  Solution. — The 
bodies  of  plants,  unUke  those  of  the  great  majority  of 
animals,  do  not  contain  any  internal  cavity  into  which  the 
food  may  be  taken  as  a  preliminary  to  its  being  absorbed 
by  the  tissues.  The  materials  of  the  food  of  plants  are 
therefore  taken  up  directly  from  without  into  the  cells  of 
the  absorbent  organs.  The  cells  which  are  especially  con- 
cerned in  absorption  are,  in  the  higher  and  subaerial  plants, 
tfie  root-hairs, — thin-walled,  unicellular,  unbranched  fila- 
ments which  are  developed  from  the  epidermal  cells  some 
way  behind  the  growing-point  of  the  root ;  in  the  lower 
plants,  and  even  in  those  of  the  higher  plants  which  lie 
submerged,  all  the  cells  of  the  plant  may  take  part  in 
absorption.  Since  the  food  is  directly  absorbed  by  the 
cells,  and  since  the  cells  all  possess  a  cell-wall,  the  materials 
of  the  food  must  be  taken  up  in  solution.  Salts  and  other 
substances  are,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  taken  up  by  the  ab- 
sorbent cells  in  the  form  of  watery  solutions.  Substances 
which  are  soluble  in  water  are  dissolved  in  the  water  which 
is  present  in  a  greater  or  smaller  proportion  in  all  soils,  and 
of  those  which  are  not  soluble  in  wate;t  many  are  brought 
into  solution  by  the  acid  sap  which  saturates  the  walls  of 
the  root-hairs.  The  actual  process  of  absorption  is  an  in- 
stance of  diffusion  through  a  membrane, — that  is,  of  osmosis. 
Only  such  substances  can  be  absorbed  by  a  root-hair,  for 
instance,  as  are  capable  of  diffusing  not  only  through  the 
cell --wall  but  also  through  the  protoplasmic  primordial 
utricle.  Further,  only  such  substances  can  be  absorbed 
by  the  root-hair  as  are  present  in  larger  proportion  in  the 
water  to  be  absorbed  than  they  are  in  the  cell-sap  of  the 
root-hair ;  this  inequality  between  the  proportion  of  any 
substance  in  solution  in  the  liquid  on  the  one  side  and  in 
that  of  a  membrane  on  the  other  is  a  necessary  condition 
of  osmosis.  Hence,  in  order  that  the  absorption  of  any 
particular  substance  by  the  root-hairs  may  be  continuous, 
it  is  necessary  that  the  substance  in  question  should  not 
accumulate  in  the  cell-sap ;  this  accumulation  is  prevented 
either  by  the  actual  consiunption  {i.e.,  chemical  decomposi- 
tion) of  the  substance  in  the  cell  or  by  the  witlfdrawal  of 
it  to  supply  the  needs  of  adjacent  cells.  In  fact,  so  far 
as  the  process  of  absorption  is  concerned,  the  ceUsap  of 
the  internal  cells  of  the  root  stands  in  the  same  relation 
to  the  cell-sap  of  the  root-hairs  as  the  cell-sap  of  the  root- 
hairs  does  to  the  external  liquid ;  and,  as  this  relation 
exists  between  the  successive  internal  layers  of  cells,  there 
is  set  up  a  current  of  absorbed  substances  which  travels 
from  the  surface  towards  the  centre. 

It  appears  from  the  foregoing  considerations  that  the 
amount  of  any  particular  salt  absorbed  in  a  given  time 
depends  upon  (1)  its  diffusibiUty  and  (2)  its  consumption 
in  the  plant.  Of  these  two  conditions  the  second  is  the 
one  which  is  of  real  physiological  importance,  and,  if  only 
the  given  time  is  sufficiently  long,  the  first  condition  may 
be  neglected.  For  instance,  let  us  suppose'  that  a  plant  is 
absorbing  by  its  roots  two  salts — the  one  {A)  being  very 
diffusible,  the  other  {B)  much  less  diffusible- — and  that, 
whilst  the  former  undergoes  no  change  iti  the  plant  after 
absorption,  the  latter  is  at  once  decomposed.  Now,  if 
the  time  of  observation  is  short,  it  may  happen  that  the 
amount  absorbed  of  the  salt  A  will  be  found  to-be  greater 
than  that  of  the  salt  B ;  but,  if  the  time  be  extended, 
the  amount  absorbed  of  the  salt  B  will  certainly  be  found 
to  be  greater  than  that  of  the  salt  A.  The  explanation 
is  that  the  salt  A  would  at  first  be  absorbed  very  rapidly, 
on  account  of  its  high  diffusibility ;  but  the  absorption  of 
it  would  gradually  diminish,  in  consequence  of  the  accumu 
lation  of  it  in  the  cell-sap  of  the  plant,  until  it  ceased  alto- 
gether.    The  absorption  of  the  salt  B,  on  the  other  hand. 


VEQETABLE.] 


PHYSIOLOGY 


45 


if  less  active  at  first  than  that  of  A,  would  be  continuous, 

and  thus,  over  a  relatively  long  period  of  time,  the  amount 

of  it  absorbed  would  come  to  be  much  greater  than  that 

of  ^. 

iiflc       As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  has  been  ascertained  that  when 

fb-    different  salts  or  other  substances  are  presented  to  the  root 

.,    of  a  plant  they  are  absorbed  in  different  quantiti^.     And 

further,  it  has  been  ascertained  that  the  different  lalts  are 

absorbed  in  different  proportions  by  the  roots  of  lifferent 

plants  ;  it  is,  in  fact,  upon  this  that  the  necessity  for  the 

"  rotation  of  crops  "  depends.     A  striking  illustration  of 

this  is  afforded  by  a  comparison  of  the  amount  of  silica 

present  in  the  ash  of  equal  dry  weights  of  gramineous  and 

leguminous  plants.     According  to  Wolff — 

100  parts  meadow-hay  contain  27 '01  per  cent,  of  silica. 
,,        wheat-straw       ,,       67 '50        ,,  ,, 

„        red  clover  ,,         2'57        ,,  „ 

„        pea-straw  „         6-83        „  ,, 

The  absorption  of  salts  in  certain  proportions  by  a  plant 
is  the  expression  of  what  may  be  conveniently  termed  its 
"specific  absorbent  capacity."  It  must  not  be  supposed  that 
this  term  suggests  that  the  roots  possess  any  selective  power 
by  which  they  absorb  this  salt  and  reject  that  one,  or  by 
which  this  one  is  absorbed  in  larger  proportion  than  that 
one.  The  question  as  to  whether  or  not  a  particular  sub- 
stance will  be  absorbed  is  a  purely  physicjal  one,  dependent 
upon  the  relation  between  the  molecules  of  the  substance 
and  the  cell -wall  and  primordial  utricle  which  they  have 
to  traverse,  and  in  no  degree  dependent  upon  the  useful- 
ness or  hurtfulness  of  the  substance  to  the  plant.  The 
amount  absorbed  of  any  particular  substance  dependis  ulti- 
mately upon  the  activity  with  which  the  plant  chemically 
alters  the  substance  after  absorption.  To  return  to  the 
illustration  just  given.  The  great  difference  between  the 
amounts  of  silica  present  in  the  ash  of  gramineous  and  of 
leguminous  plants  respectively  is  the  expression  of  the 
fact  that  the  former  are  capable  of  withdrawing  relatively 
large  quantities  of  absorbed  silica  from  the  sphere  of 
osmotic  activity,  and  depositing  it  in  the  insoluble  form 
in  the  tissues,  whereas  the  latter  can  only  do  so  to  a 
comparatively  small  extent.  The  specific  absorbent  capa- 
city of  a  plant  is  simply  a  manifestation  of  its  specific 
metabolic  properties. 
ot  The  amount  of  the  various  salts  absorbed  is  not,  how- 
*?•  ever,  exclusively  dependent  upon  the  specific  absorbent 
capacity  of  the  plant,  for  it  is  materially  affected  by  the 
composition  of  the  soil.  The  larger  the  quantity  of  any 
substance  presented  to  the  roots,  the  greater,  other  things 
being  equal,  will  be  the  amount  of  it  absorbed.  This  does 
not  mean  that  substances  can  be  absorbed  by  the  roots  in 
solutions  of  any  degree  of  concentration.  It  appears  that 
the  root-hairs  can  only  absorb  very  dilute  solutions ;  but 
for  the  watery  solution  of  any  salt  capable  of  being 
absorbed  there  is  a  certain  degree  of  concentration  at 
which  the  proportion  of  the  amount  of  the  salt  absorbed 
to  that  of  the  water  absorbed  is  the  same  as  that  of  the 
solution.  If  tlie  solution  be  more  concentrated  the  propor- 
tion of  water  absorbed  will  be  greater,  if  the  solution  bo 
more  dilute  the  proportion  of  salt  absorbed  will  be  greater. 
This  is  the  general  "law  of  absorption"  determined  by 
the  experiments  of  De  Saussure  and  of  Wolff.  It  must, 
however,  be  borne  in  mind  that,  though  the  proportion  of 
salt  absorbed  is  larger  in  the  case  of  a  dilute  than  of  a 
more  concentrated  solution,  yet  the  absolute  quantity  of  it 
absorbed  from  a  more  concentrated  solution  in  a  given 
time  is  greater  than  that  absorbed  from  a  dilute  solution. 
2.  Absorption  of  Gases. — An  interchange  of  gases  is  con- 
stantly taking  place  between  the  plant  and  the  medium  in 
which  it  lives — in  the  case  (3f  terrestrial  jilants,  between 
the  plant  and  the  air;  in  the  case  of  aquatic  plante,  between 


solution. 


the  plant  and  the  water.  When  the  plant  is  a  simrile  one 
each  of  its  cells  is  in  direct  relation  with  the  external 
medium ;  when  it  is  of  complex  structure  there  is  usually 
some  means  provided  by  which  the  more  internal  cells  are 
brought  into  relation  with  it,  namely,  a  continuous  system 
of  intercellular  spaces  which  communicate  with  the  exterior 
in  terrestrial  plants  by  certain  apertures  termed  "stomata," 
in  the  epidermis  of  the  leaves  and  young  stems,  and  by 
others  termed  "lenticels,"  in  the  cortical  tissue  of  older 
stems  and  of  roots. 

The  gases  principally  absorbed  by  plants  are  oxygen 
and  carbon  dioxide.  The  former  is  absorbed  by  every 
living  cell,  and  at  all  times ;  the  latter  is  absorbed  exclu- 
sively by  cells  which  contain  chlorophyll,  and  by  them  only 
when  exposed  to  light.  In  the  more  highly -organized 
plants  the  cells  which  contain  chlorophyll  are  confined 
almost  entirely  to  the  leaves,  so  that  the  leaves  may  be 
regarded  as  the  organs  by  which  these  plants  absorb 
carbon  dioxide.  It  has  been  held  that  the  stomata  are  of 
great  importance  in  promoting  the  ^sorption  of  this  gal 
by  the  leaves,  but  the  experiments  of  Boussingault  prove 
that  this  view  is  not  well  founded.  He  discovered,  namely, 
that  the  upper  surface  of  the  leaves  of  various  plants 
with  which  he  experimented  absorbed  carbon  dioxide  more 
actively  than  the  lower  surface',  although  the  upper  surface 
had  scarcely  any  stomata,  whereas  they  were  very  numerous 
on  the  lower.  The  absorption  of  carbon  dioxide  by  the 
leaves  is  directly  effected  by  the  superficial  cells. 

Gases,  like  solid  substances,  are  only  absorbed  in  solu-  Absorp- 
tion by  the  cells  of  plants.     They  may  be  brought  to  the  *'°''  °f 
surface  of  the  cell- wall  already  dissolved  in  water,  as  in  ^****  "* 
the  case  of  submerged  plants,  or  they  may  be  dissolved 
from  the  atmosphere  by  the  sap  which  saturates  the  cell- 
wall,  as  in  the  case  of  land-plants ;  in  either  case  they 
reach  the  interior  of  the  ceU  in  solution.     When  a  gas  has 
been  taken  up  at  the  surface  it  diffuses  throughout  the  cell- 
sap  ;  and  in  the  case  of  a  gas  like  nitrogen,  for  instance, 
which  is  not  chemically  altered  in  the  cell,  the  absorption 
of  it  wUl  cease  when  the  cell-sap  has  become  saturated 
with  it.     If,  however,  the  metabolism  of  the  cell  changes 
the  chemical  condition  of  a  gas  its   absorption  will   be 
continuous.     This  accords  with  what  has  been  said  with 
regard  to  substances  absorbed  by  the  roots. 

Another  analogy  exists  between  the  absorption  of  gases 
and  the  absorption  of  substances  in  solution,  namely,  that, 
just  as  the  root  can  only  absorb  a  solution  below  a  certain 
degree  of  concentration,  so  the  leaf  can  only  absorb  a 
gas  below  a  certain  degree  of  pressure.  Let  us  take  in 
illustration  the  case  of  carbon  dioxide.  The  pressure  of  the 
carbon  dioxide  in  the  air  is  very  slight  (0'0-t  per  cent,  by 
volume).  It  was  first  observed  by  Percival  that  an  increase 
in  the  quantity  of  carbon  dioxide  in  the  air  is  favourable 
to  the  nutrition  of  green  plants;  De  Saussure  found  that 
a  considerable  increase  is  prejudicial ;  and  subsequently 
Godlewski  showed  that  the  optimum  proportion  is  from  8 
to  10  per  cent.,— that  is,  that  carbon  dioxide  is  most  readily 
absorbed  by  the  i>!ant  when  its  pressure  is  about  200 
times  greater  than  in  ordinary  air.  Boussingault  found 
that  when  leaves  are  exposed  to  sunlight  in  an  atmosphere 
of  pure  carbon  dioxide  at  the  ordinary  pressure  they  cannot 
decompose  it,  but  if  the  gas  is  at  a  low  pressure  (in  hi& 
experiment  0'17  mm.  of  mercury)  they  can  do  so. 

Besides  oxygen  and  carbon  dioxide  other  gases  arc  also 
absorbed  by  plants,  but  to  a  .small  extent  only.  Nitrogen 
is  absorbed  in  small  quantities  merely  in  virtue  of  its 
solubility  and  diffusibility ;  as  mentioned  above,  it  is  not 
in  any  way  acted  ujion  by  the  cells  after  its  absori)tion. 
It  appears  that  ammonia  may  be  absorbe<l  from  the  air  in 
the  form  of  gas  by  the  leaves,  and  that,  wlien  thus  absorbed, 
it  contributes  to  the  nutrition  of  the  plant.     Other 


46 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[vegetable. 


such  as  sulphur  dioxide,  sulphuretted  hydrogen,  and  hydro- 
chloric acid,  which  are  occasionally  present  in  the  air  as 
impurities,  are  absorbed  by  the  leaves,  as  is  shown  by  the 
pernicious  effects  which  they  produce. 

Circulation. 

It  is  obviously  necessary,  in  multicellular  plants  in  which 
certain  cells  only  are  in  a  position  to  absorb  food-materials 
from  without,  that  these  food-materials  should  be  conveyed 
from  the  absorbent  cells  to  the  remainder  of  the  plant. 
In  no  plant  is  there  any  organ  comparable  to  the  heart  of 
animals  by  means  of  which  a  distribution  throughout  the 
tissues  of  absorbed  food-materials  is  effected.  The  distribu- 
tion is  accomplished  by  purely  physical  means,  principally 
by  osmosis.  When  the  cell-sap  of  a  cell  becomes  charged, 
by  absorption  from  without  or  from  neighbouring  cells, 
with  any  substance,  diffusion-currents  are  at  once  set  up 
between  this  cell  and  any  adjacent  cells  the  cell-sap  of 
which  may  contain  the  substance  in  question  in  smaller 
proportion,  and  these  currents  will  persist  until  osmotic 
equilibrium,  as  far  as  this  substance  is  concerned,  is  estab- 
lished. The  diffusion-currents  do  not  flow  in  any  definite 
direction,  but  their  course  is  determined  simply  by  inequali- 
ties in  the  chemical  composition  of  the  cell-sap  of  the  cells 
in  different  parts  of  the  plant.  Since  in  subaerial  plants 
the  roots  are  as  a  rule  the  only  organs  which  absorb  sub- 
stances from  the  soil,  and  since  the  cell-sap  of  their  cells 
is  therefore  relatively  rich  in  absorbed  food-materials,  the 
general  direction  of  the  diffusion-currents  is  from  the  roots 
upwards  into  the  stem  and  leaves. 

In  cellular  plants — that  is,  in  plants  which  possess  no 
vascular  tissue — the  distribution  of  absorbed  food-materials 
is  effected  solely  by  osmosis.  Many  of  these  plants  are 
small,  so  that  the  distribution  is  ejected  from  cell  to  cell 
with  sufficient  rapidity  by  this  means.  Those  of  them 
that  are  large  have  a  very  considerable  absorbent  surface, 
many  of  them  being  aquatic  in  habit,  so  that  the  absorbed 
substances  have  no  great  distance  to  travel.  In  vascular 
plants,  more  particularly  in  those  which  are  subaerial  in 
habit,  the  distribution  of  the  water,  holding  substances  in 
solution,  which  is  absorbed  by  the  roots  is  effected  to  a 
considerable  extent  by  means  of  th^  vascular  system.  The 
forces  by  which  the  flow  of  liquid  through  the  vasciilar 
tissue  is  maintained  are  the  following.  The  first  is  the 
Eoot-  root- pressure..  It  is  a  matter  of  common  observation 
jireasure.  that,  when  the  stems  of  vascular  plants  are  cut  across, 
particularly  in  the  spring,  an  escape  of  water  takes  place 
from  the  surface  of  that  portion  of  the  stem  which  still 
remains  connected  vnih.  the  root,  an  escape  which  may 
persist  for  some  considerable  time^  It  has  been  ascertained 
that  this  outflow  of  water  takes  place  under  considerable 
jiressure ;  for  instance.  Hales  observed,  in  the  case  of  a 
Vine,  that  the  pressure  was  sufficiently  great  to  support  a 
column;of  mercury  32i  inches  in  height.  But  the  root- 
pressure  not  only  manifests  itself  by  causing  a  flow  of 
water  from  the  cut  surfaces  of  stems,  it  also  causes  in 
many  plants  the  exudation  of  drops  of  water  at  the  free 
surface.  Drops  may  commonly  be  seen  on  the  surface  of 
certain  Fungi  (Pilobolus  crystallinus,  Penicillium  glaucum, 
Merulius  lacrimans),  which  are  exuded  in  consequence  of 
the  hydrostatic  pressure  set  up  in  the  plant  by  the  active 
absorption  effected  by  the. organs  (rhizoids)  which  here 
perform  the  functions  of  roots.  Again,  drops  are  frequently 
to  be  found  on  the  margins  and  at  the  apices  of  the  leaves, 
especially  the  younger  ones,  of  many  plants,  such  as  Grasses,. 
Aroids,  Alchemillas,  Saxifrages,  <fec.  That  the  formation  of 
these  drops  depends  "upon  the  forcing  of  water  upwards 
through  the  vessels  by  the  root-pressure  is  proved  by  the 
fact  that,  if  the  stem  be  cut  off  from  the '  root  and  then 
J)  laced  with  its  cut  end  in  water,  no  more  drops -will  appear 


on  the  leaves.  The  water  thus  forced  into  the  vascular 
system  is  not  pure  water,  but  a  watery  solution  of  various 
substances,  principally  salts  absorbed  by  the  roots.  It  is 
therefore  obvious  that  the  root-pressure  assists  in  the  dis- 
tribution of  these  substances  throughout  the  plant. 

In  order  to  understand  how  the  root-pressure  is  set  up 
it  will  be  necessary  to  give  a  brief  description  of  the 
general  structure  of  the  root.  It  consists  of  a  central 
fibro- vascular  cylinder  which  is  surrounded  by  several  layers 
of  parenchymatous  cells,  the  most  external  of  these  layers 
being  in  contact  with  the  epidermal  layer,  certain  cells  of 
which  are  developed  into  root-hairs.  Water  is  absorbed 
by  the  root-hairs  and  passes  from  them  by  osmosis  into  the 
subjacent  parenchymatous  cells.  It  is  obvious,  however; 
that  osmosis  cannot  take  place  between  the  cells  of  the 
innermost  layer  and  the  vessels,  for  the  conditions  of 
osmosis  are  not  fulfilled,  inasmuch  as  the  vessels  at  first 
contain  no  liquid.  The  passage  of  water  from  the  cells 
into  the  vessels  can  only  take  place  by  filtration.  For  this 
a  certain  pressure  is  necessary,  and  this  pressure  is  set  up 
by  the  absorbent  activity  of  the  root-hairs  and  of  the 
parenchymatous  cells.  The  system  of  cells  absorbs  large 
quantities  of  water,  more  indeed  than  the  cells  can  contain, 
so  that  at  length  the  resistance  of  the  cell-walls  is  overcome 
at  what  is  presumably  the  weakest  point,  and  water  filters 
into  the  cavities  of  the  vessels-  of  the  wood.  There  it 
coUects,  and  it  maj',- under  certain  circumstances,  fill  the 
whole  vascular  system  ;  then,  since  absorptiqn  is  still  going 
on  at  the  surface  of  the  roots,  sufficient  pressure  is  set  up 
to  cause  that  exudation  of  drops  on  the  leaves  to  which 
allusion  has  been  made,  and,  if  the  stem  be  cut  across,  tc 
cause  "  bleeding  "  at  the  cut  surface.  From  the  foregoing 
account  it  is  apparent  that  the  root-pressure  is  the  expres- 
sion of  the  absorbent  activity  of  the  root-hairs. 

But  the  vessels  of  the  wood  do  not  always  contain  water.  Tran- 
Hales  observed  that,  whereas  a  Vine  will  bleed  freely  if  its  spinitli 
stem  be  cut  across  in  the  month  of  April,  no  bleeding  is 
observed  if  it  be  cut  in  July.  And  yet  it  cannot  be  doubted 
that  the  plant  is  absorbing  water  by  its  roots  more  actively 
in  July  than  in  April.  The  explanation  of  these  facts  is 
that,  although  in  July  the  plant  is  absorbing  water  ac- 
tively by  its  roots,  yet  it  is  losing  so  much  in  the  form  of 
vapour  from  its  leaves  that  water  does  not  accumulate  in 
the  cavities  of  the  vessels.  This  loss  of  water  in  the  form 
of  vapour  from  the  general  surface  of  the  plant  exposed  to 
the  air  is  termed  "transpiration."  The  parts  of  the  plant 
which  are  more  especially  concerned  in  transpiration  are 
the  leaves.  By  their  structure  they  are  peculiarly  adapted 
for  this  purpose.  The  tissue  of  a  leaf  is  penetrated  in 
all  directions  by  intercellular  spaces,  which  communicate 
directly  ■n-ith  the  external  air  by  means  of  the  stomata  in 
the  epidermis.  In  this  way  a  very  large  surface  of  moist 
and  thin  cell-wall  is  brought  into  contact  -with  the  air,  a 
condition  most  favourable  to  evaporation.  Some  idea  of 
the  activity  of  transpiration  in  a  plant  is  afforded  by  the 
following  determinations  made  by  Hales.  In  the  case  of 
a  Sunflower  with  a  leaf -surface  of  5616  square  inches  the 
amount  of  water  transpired  during  twelve  hours  of  daylight 
was  30  fluid  oz.  (a  pint  and  a  half) ;  in  the  case  of  a 
Cabbage  with  2736  square  inches  of  leaf-surface  the 
amount  of  water  transpired  in  the  same  time  was  25  fluid 
oz.  The  activity  of  transpiration  is  very  much  affected  by 
external  conditions, — the  moister  the  air,  the  smaller  will 
be  the  transpiration ;  and  conversely,  the  drier  the  air  and 
the  higher  the  temperature,  the  greater  will  be  the  amouat 
of  water  transpirecL  Light,  too,  has  a  remarkable  influence : 
it  has  been  ascertained  by  a  great  number  of  observers 
that  transpiration  is  more  active  in  hght  than  in  darkness. 
It  seems  probable  that  this  is  to  be  attributed  largely  to 
the  influence  of  light  \ipon  the  stomata.     Each  stoma  is 


VEGETABLE.] 


PHYSIOLOGY 


47 


usTially  bounded  by  two  cells,  tenned  "guard-cells,"  which 
are  capable  of  so  altering  their  form  as  to  close  or  to  open 
the  aperture  between  them.  The  form  of  the  guard-cells 
is  dependent  upon  the  amount  of  water  which  they  contain. 
When  they  hold  comparatively  little  water,  and  are  flaccid, 
their  adjacent  free  surfaces  are  straight  and  in  contact 
with  each  other  ;  the  stoma  is  tlien  closed.  iVhen,  how- 
ever, they  contain  so  much  water  that  their  cell-walls  are 
under  considerable  pressure  from  within — in  a  word,  when 
the  guard-cells  are  turgid — they  curve  so  that  their  ad- 
jacent free  surfaces  are  no  longer  in  contact,  but  a  space  is 
Jeft  between  them  ;  the  stoma  is  then  open.  It  appears 
that  the  guard-cells  become  turgid  under  the  influence  of 
light ;  and  it  is  probably  to  this  open  condition  of  the 
atomata  that  the  greater  transpiration  of  leaves  when 
exposed  to  light  is  to  be  ascribed. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  effect  of  transpiration  upon  the  dis- 
tribution of  water  through  the  plant  is  very  great.  It  sets 
np  a  rapid  current,  known  as  the  "transpiration-current," 
which  travels  from  the  roots  upwards  towards  the  l.eaves. 
Sachs  has  made  some  observations  as  to  its  rate  by  means 
of  the  lithium-method,  which  consists  in  supplying  the 
root  of  a  plant  with  a  solution  of  a  salt  of  lithium,  and 
determining  by  means  of  the  spectroscope  the  length  of 
stem  in  which  lithium  could  be  detected  after  the  lapse  of 
a  given  time.  He  estimates  the  rate  per  hour  to  be  in 
Nicoliana  Tabacum  118  centimetres  (46"458  inches),  in 
Hdianthus  annuus  63  (24'793  inches),  and  in  Vitis  vini- 
fera  98  (38'583  inches).  But  the  water  of  the  transpira- 
tion-current holds  salts  and  other  substances  in  solution. 
It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  transpiration  promotes  the  dis- 
tribution not  only  of  water  but  also  of  the  substances  which 
the  water  holds  in  solution.  Sachs's  experiments  go  to 
prove  that  salts  travel  in  solution  in  the  current ;  hence  it 
affords  a  ready  means  of  transport  of  substances  from  the 
roots,  where  they  are  absorbed,  to  the  leaves  where  (as  will 
be  shown  below)  the  food  undergoes  certain  changes 
which  fit  it  for  the  nutrition  of  the  plant.  There  is  yet 
another  important  point  to  be  noted  with  regard  to  the 
physiological  significance  of  transpiration.  It  hjis  been 
mentioned  that  the  roots  absorb  from  the  soil  only  very 
dilute  solutions  of  salts  and  other  substances,  so  that  for 
any  given  quantity  of  a  salt  absorbed  an  excessive  quantity 
of  water  has  to  be  absorbed  likewise.  It  is  obvious  that 
the  absorption  of  salts  from  the  soil  by  the  roots  can  only 
go  on  provided  that  the  plant  is  able  to  get  rid  of  the 
excess  of  absorbed  water,  and  this  is  effected  chiefly  by 
transpiration,  though,  as  mentioned  above,  an  actual  ex- 
cretion of  water  in  the  form  of  drops  not  unfrequently 
takes  place. 

It  has  been  conclusively  proved  that  the  channel  along 
which  the  transpiration-current  travels  is  the  fibro-vascxilar 
tissue,  and  that  it  is  the  xylem  or  woody  portion  of  a 
fibro-vascular  bundle  which  is  the  conducting  tissue.  In 
the  case  of  plants  like  Conifers  and  Dicotyledons,  in  which 
there  is  a  formation  of  secondary  xylem  or  wood  from  a 
eaml>ium-layer,  it  is  the  younger  wood,  the  alburnum,  along 
which  the  transpiration-current  passes.  The  older  wood, 
the  duramen,  it  is  true,  usually  contains  water,  but  it  does 
not  serve  as  a  conducting  channel,  only  as  a  reservoir. 
The  question  now  arises  as  to  the  mode  in  which  the 
transpiration-current  travels  through  the  wood.  Since  the 
vessels  cbntain.,  no  water  in  their  cavities  at  the  time 
when  transpiration  is  most  active,  it  is  clear  that  it  is  not 
in  the  cavities  of  the  vessels  that  the  water  of  the  current 
travels.  Sachs  is  of  opinion  that  it  moves  in  the  substance 
of  the  lignified  cell-walls.  Others,  amongst  whom  Hartig 
may  be  especially  named,  consider  that  it  travels  from  the 
cavity  of  one  wood-cell  to  that  of  the  next  by  filtration 
under  pressure.     The  mechanism  of  conduction  would,  in 


the  latter  case,  be  this :  the  conducting  cells  contain  air 
and  water ;  when  water  is  withdrawn  from  one  of  them 
the  contained  air  becomes  rarefied,  and  the  water  in  that 
cell  is  then  subject  to  a  lower  pressure  than  that  in  neigh- 
bouring cells ;  as  a  consequence  water  is  forced  into  the 
former  cell  through  the  thin  membranes  of  the  pits  in  its 
walls  untU  equilibrium  is  re-established.  Inasmuch,  then, 
as  the  air  in  the  conducting  wood -cells  in  the  leaves  is 
constantly  undergoing  rarefaction  in  consequencer  of  tran- 
spiration, a  current  is  set  up  towards  the  leaves  from  the 
stem  and  the  root. 

There  can  be  no  doubt,  however,  that,  as  Hales  first 
pointed  out,  transpiration  has  the  effect  of  diminishing  thf 
pressure  of  the  gases  contained  in  the  cells  and  vessels 
Von  Hohnel  has  found  that,  if  the  stem  of  a  transpir. 
ing  plant  be  cut  through  under  mercury,  the  mercury  wii' 
at  once  rise  to  a  height  of  several  centimetres  in  the  vessels, 
the  greatest  height  being  reached  in  the  younger  vessels. 
This  rise  can  only  be  accounted  for  by  ascribing  it  to  the 
difference  between  the  atmosjiheric  pressure  and  the  pres- 
sure of  the  gases  in  the  vessels,  the  lower  pressure  of  the 
latter  being  due  to  the  removal  of  water  by  transpiration, 
which  necessarily  involves  an  expansion,  and  therefore  also 
a  diminished  pressure  of  the  gases.  The  effect  of  this  so- 
called  "  negative  pressure  "  is  to  set  up  diffusion-currents 
of  gases  from  the  surrounding  tissues  into  the  cells  and 
vessels  of  the  fibro-vascular  bundles.  It  must  not  be 
assumed,  however,  that  the  vessels  are  the  principal 
channels  in  which  gases  circulate  throughout  the  plant 
They  circulate  principally  in  the  interoellular  spaces  which 
communicate  with  the  external  air  by  means  of  the  stomata. 

Stating  the  foregoing  facts  in  the  most  general  terms,  Kecspa* 
it  appears  that  in  a  plant  the  food-materials  travel  byui»*J*^ 
osmosis  from  the  absorbent  organs  to  the  organs  in  which' 
the  processes  of  constructive  metabolism  are  carried  on — 
in  one  of  the  higher  plants,  for  instance,  from  the  roots  to 
the  leaves — and  that  the  distribution  of  the  food-materials 
is  assisted  and  accelerated  by  root-pressure  and  by  tran- 
spiration, the  fullest  expression  of  this  being  the  transpira- 
tion-current in  terrestrial  vascular  plants.  And  just  as 
there  is  a  current  of  food -materials  tending  towards  the 
organs  in  which  the  processes  of  constructive  metabolism 
are  carried  on,  so  also  there  is  a  current  of  the  organic 
nutrient  substances  formed  in  these  organs  travelling  from 
them  to  the  other  parts  of  the  plant.  The  final  cause  of 
the  current  is  the  same  in  both  cases.  A  given  salt,  for 
instance,  which  has  been  absorbed  by  the  root  travels 
towards  the  leaves  because  it  is  in  some  way  undergoing 
chemical  alteration  in  those  organs;  similarly,  a  given 
organic  substance  formed  in  the  leaves  travels  from  them 
towards  any  part  of  the  jilant  in  which  that  substance 
is  being  chemically  altered,  or,  to  use  a  somewhat  different 
expression,  is  being  consumed.  The  cause  of  the  diffusion 
in  either  case  is  the  disturbance  of  osmotic  equilibrium  by 
the  chcmiciil  alteration  of  the  substance,  and  the  result  is 
a  current  of  the  substance  from  those  parts  which  ttfe 
relatively  rich  in  it  to  those  which  are  relatively  poor. 

Ditlribulion  of  Organic  KulriaU  SuMancfs. — In  vas- 
cular plants  the  distribution  of  the  organic  nutrient  sub 
stances  is,  like  the  conduction  of  substances  absorbed  by 
the  roots,  assisted  by  the  vascular  tissue ;  but,  whereas  it 
is  the  wood  which  is  the  conducting  tissue  in  the  latter 
case,  in  the  former  it  is  the  bast  or  phloem,  and  more 
especially  the  bast-vessels  or  sieve-tubes.  These  vessels 
consist  of  elongated  cells  placed  end  to  end,  the  septa  be- 
tween the  adjacent  cells  being  jjcrforated  so  as  to  admit  of 
a  direct  continuity  between  their  protoplasmic  contents. 

The  importance  of  the  wood  and  of  the  bast  respectively 
as  conducting  tissues  is  well  illustrated  by  the  "  ringing  " 
experiments  which  have  been  repeatedly  made  on  iilants. 


48 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[vegetable; 


such  as  Dicotyledons  and  Conifers,  which  have  the  fibro- 
vascular  bundles  arranged  in  a  ring  in  the  stem.  When  a 
ling  of  tissue,  extending  inwards  as  far  as  the  cambium- 
layer,  is  removed  from  the  stem  of  a  dicotyledonous  plant 
the  following  facts  are  to  be  observed  :  (1)  that  the  leaves 
■which  are  borne  on  branches  arising  from  the  stem  above 
the  level  at  which  the  ring  of  tissue  has  been  removed  will 
not  exhibit  any  signs  of  withering  ;  (2)  that  the  part  of  the 
stem  below  the  incision  will  not  increase  in  thickness  to 
nearly  the  same  extent  as  the  part  above  the  incision.  From 
these  facts  it  is  clear  (1)  that  the  operation  in  question  has 
not  materially  affected  the  conduction  of  water  and  food- 
materials  in  solution  upwards  to  the  leaves,  and,  since  the 
wood  is  the  only  unimpaired  tissue,  it  is  obviously  in  the 
wood  that  the  upward  current  travels ;  and  (2)  that  the 
operation  has  materially  affected  the  conduction  of  organic 
nutrient  substances  to  the  parts  below  the  incision,  the 
diminished  growth  of  these  parts  being  the  result  of  in- 
adequate nutrition ;  this  effect  of  the  operation  is  to  be 
ascribed,  principally  at  least,  to  the  destruction  of  the  con- 
tinuity of  the  bast-tissue. 
Latlcifer-  In  various  families  of  vascular  plants,  and  in  some 
ou3tis3ue  cellular  plants  also  (certain  Fungi),  there  are  to  be  found 
cells,  forming  what  is  known  as  "laticiferous  tissue,"  which 


and 
vessels. 


probably  assist  in  distributing  both  food-materials  and 
organic  nutrient  substances  throughout  the  plant.  In  some 
plants  {Euphorhiacese,  Asclepiadacex,  Jlorex,  &c.)  the  cells 
are  quite  distinct  from  each  other,  and  extend  from  one 
end  of  the  plant  to  the  other,  growing  with  its  growth,  so 
that  they  attain  a  very  considerable  size,  and  are  much 
branched;  these  are  spoken  of  as  "laticiferous  cells."  In 
other  plants  {Cichoriacex,  Papaveracex,  ikc.)  the  cells  are 
comparatively  small,  and  fuse  together  to  form  an  intri- 
cate network;  these  are  spoken  of  as  "  laticiferous  vessels." 
The  cells  of  the  laticiferous  tissue  contain  a  milky  liquid, 
termed  "  latex,"  which  consists  of  water  holding  inorganic 
salts,  sugar,  gum,  extractives  and  proteids,  in  solution,  and 
holding  in  suspension  resinous  and  fatty  bodies.  The 
cells  contain  protoplasm  in  addition,  and  not  uncommonly 
Btarch-granules.  • 

Food  of  Plants. 

Pood  of  A  rough  idea  of  the  nature  of  its  food  can  be  obtained 
pVants.  by  analysing  a  plant.  It  is  found  that,  in  the  process  of 
incineration,  a  considerable  weight  of  its  dry  solid  is 
burned  up  and  given  off  in  the  form  of  gas ;  this  represents 
the  combustible  or  organic  portion  of  the  plant.  The  in- 
combustible residue,  the  ash,  is  found  to  be  of  a  mineral 
or  inorganic  nature.  The  gases  given  off  are  carbon 
dioxide,  watery  vapour,  and  nitrogen,  showing  that  the 
combustible  portion  of  the  plant  contained  the  elements 
Carbon,  hydrogen,  and  nitrogen.  In  the  ash  occurs  a  num- 
ber of  elements,  of  which  the  principal  are  sulphur,  phos- 
phorus, potassium,  calcium,  magnesium,  iron,  sodium, 
chlorine,  and  silicon.  But  it  does  not  necessarily  follow 
that,  because  any  given  chemical  element  can  be  detected 
in  a  plant,  that  element  is  to  be  regarded  as  part  of  the 
food  of  the  plant,  for,  as  has  been  already  pointed  out, 
plants  may  absorb  substances  which  in  no  way  contribute 
to  their  nutrition,  or  are  even  injurious.  When  an  element 
enters  into  the  chemical  composition  of  the  substances  of 
which  the  organized  structure  of  the  plant  consists  (as 
C,  H,  O  in  starch  and  cellulose,  C,  H,  O,  N,  S,  P  in  pro- 
teids), then  i&  is  clear  that  this  element  must  form  part  of 
the  food ;  but,  when,  as  in  the  case  of  the  rest  of  the 
elements  mentioned  above,  an  element  does  not  thus  con- 
tribute to  the  building  up  of  the  organized  substance  of 
the  plant,  its  admission  to  the  rank  of  a  food -material 
must  be  the  subject  of  direct  experiment.  It  has  been 
ascertained  that  many  of  tlie  elements  enumerated   above, 


though,  so  far  as  is  known,  they  are  not  essential  constitu- 
ents of  the  organized  structure  of  the  plant,  are  neverthe- 
less essential  to  the  maintenance  of  its  life ;  they  may  not, 
indeed,  go  to  build  up  the  plant-substance,  but  in  some 
way  or  other  they  promote  the  metabolic  processes. 

The  method  which  has  afforded  the  most  valuable  results 
bearing  upon  the  relative  physiological  importance  of 
various  food-materials  is  that  which  is  known  as  "  water- 
culture."  It  consists  in  growing  plants  with  their  roots 
immersed  in  water  holding  certain  salts  in  known  quantities 
in  solution.  The  mixture  of  salts  can,  of  course,  be  varied 
at  pleasure,  and  the  effect  upon  the  plant  of  the  absence 
S)i  certain  elements,  as  of  their  presence  in  smaller  or  larger 
quantities,  can  be  observed.  Further,  by  an  analysis  of 
that  portion  of  the  solution  which  remains  unabsorbed  at 
the  close  of  the  experiment,  the  proportion  in  which  the 
various  salts  have  been  absorbed  can  be  ascertained. 

The  elements  of  the  food  of  plants  may  be  conveniently 
classified  into  two  groups,  the  first  consisting  of  those 
which  enter  into  the  composition  of  organized  plant-sub- 
stance, the  second  consisting  of  those  which,  without  ac- 
tually entering  into  the  structure  of  the  plant,  are  essential 
to  the  proper  performance  of  the  metabolic  processes.  To 
the  first  group  belong  the  elements  C,  H,  0,  N,  S,  P ;  to 
the  second,  K,  Ca,  Mg,  Fe,  CI  (1). 

We  will  now  briefly  discuss  the  form  5n  which  the 
various  chemical  elements  are  absorbed,  and  their  use  in 
tlie  economy  of  the  plant,  beginning  with  those  which 
enter  into  the  composition  of  organized  plant-substance. 
A  few  words  will  also  be  said  about  those  elements,  such 
as  sodium  and  silicon,  which,  though  always  present  in  the 
ash  of  plants,  appear  to  have  no  real  physiological  signifi- 
cance as  far  as  nutrition  is  concerned. 

Carbon. — This  element  constitutes  a  large  percentage  of  the  total  Fopd 
dry  weight  of  plants.  It  enters  into  tlie  composition  of  all  the  elei»entl 
organic  substances,  such  as  starch,  cellulose,  and  other  carbohydrates, 
fata  and  other  hydrocarbons,  proteids,  organic  acids,  alkaloids,  &c., 
which  may  be  present  in  plants.  The  form  in  which  carbon  is 
absorbed  depends  upon  the  nature  of  the  plant.  It  may  be  broadly 
stated  that  all  those  which  contain  chlorophyll  absorb  their  carbon 
in  the  form  of  carbon  dioxide,  whereas  those  which  do  not  contain 
chlorophyll  absorb  their  carbon  in  the  form  of  more  complex  carbon 
compounds  which  contain  C,  H,  and  O,  and  in  which  the  C  is 
directly  combined  with  H.  Jloreover,  in  green  plants  it  is  only 
those  cells  which  coutain  chlorophyll  that  can  absorb  carbon 
dioxide,  and  this  only  under  the  influence  of  light.  It  must  not 
be  assumed,  however,  that  plants  containing  chlorophyll  are  in- 
capable of  absorbing  complex  carbon  compounds.  It  is  known 
from  the  researches  of  Darwin  and  others  that  the  "insectivorous" 
plants  absorb  such  compounds  by  their  modified  leaves,  and  it  is 
known  also  that  a  number  of  green  plants,  such  as  the  Mistletoe, 
the  Rattle,  and  others,  live  parasitically  on  other  plants.  It  has 
indeed  been  proved  by  direct  experiment  tha^t  green  plants  can  ab- 
sorb substances  such  as  urea,  glycocoU,  asparagin,  leucin,  tyrosin, 
which  are  all  highly  complex  carbon  compounds.  The  physio- 
logical distinction  to  be  drawn  between  plants  which  do  and  those 
which  do  not  contain  chlorophyll  is  really  that  the  former  are 
capable  of  assimilating  carbon  in  a  simple  compound,  such  as  COj, 
whilst  the  latter  aie  incapable  of  doing  this,  and  require,  there^ 
fore,  compounds  of  more  complex  constitution.  Plants  which  do 
not  contain  chlorophyll  are  either  parasites  (that  is,  they  live  uponj 
other  living  organisms)  or  saprophytes  (that  is,  they  live  upon  the' 
products  of  the  waste  and  decay  of  other  living  organisms).  The 
plants  which  do  not  contain  chlorophyll  are  the  Fungi  and  a  few 
Phanerogams, — Epipogium  Gmelini,  Cvscula,  ilonolropa,  Lalhrsea, 
Corallorhiza.  Of  these  the  Fungi  include  both  parasites  and  sapro- 
phytes ;  Epipogium  Gmelini  is  a  saprophyte,  Cuscuta  a  parasite, 
and  Monolropa  may  apparently  be  either  the  one  or  the  other.  The 
Orobanchem,  which  are  parasitic,  and  Neoitia,  which  is  saprophytic, 
have  not  a  green  colour,  but  small  quantities  of  chlorophyll  havB 
nevertheless  been  detected  in  them. 

Hydrogen. — This  element  is  absorbed  by  all  plants  in  the  form 
of  water  and  of  ammonia  and  its  compounds ;  it  may  also  be 
absorbed  in  the  form  of  organic  compounds. 

Oxygen. — O.tygen  is  taken  up  either  in  the  free  state,  or  in  com- 
bination in  theform  of  water  or  of  salts  ;  it  may  also  be  absorbed 
in  the  form  of  organic  compounds.  The  free  oxygen  absorbed  is 
especially  concerned  in  the  processes  of  destructive  metabolism,  tha 
combined  oxyj^en  in  those  of  constructive  metabolism. 


-VEGETABU:.] 


PHYSIOLOGY 


49 


Kitrogm. — Nitrogen  is  absorbed  in  the  form  of  ammonia  and  its 
compounds  and  of  nitrates  ;  it  may  also  be  absorbed  in  the  form  of 
organic  nitrogenous  compounds.  The  researches  of  Lawes,  Gilbert, 
and  Pugli,  as  also  those  of  Boussingault,  have  proved  that  plants 
are  incapable  of  assimilating  free  nitrogen.  It  appears  that,  on  the 
■whole,  nitrogen  absorbed  in  the  form  of  ammonia  compounds  is 
more  readily  assimilated  by  plants  than  nitrogen  absorbed  in  the 
form  of  nitrates.  Pasteur  has  shown,  for  instance,  that  the  Yeast 
plant  cannot  assimilate  nitrates. 

Sulphur. — Sulphur  is  absorbed  from  the  soil  as  sulphates,  those 
of  ammonium,  potassium,  magnesium,  and  calcium  being  the  most 
advantageous.  It  may  also  be  absorbed  to  som»  extent  in  the  form 
of  organic  compounds. 

Pnofphorus. — Phosphorus  is  absorbed  from  the  sou  in  the  form 
of  phosphates.  Besides  being  a  constituent  of  certain  substances 
allied  to  the  proteids,  such  as  nuclein  and  plastin,  phosphorus 
seems  to  bear  an  important  relation  to  certain  of  the  metabolic 
processes.  Phosphates  are  to  be  found  especially  in  those  parts  of 
plants  which  are  rich  in  protoplasmic  cell-contents.  It  appears 
that  a  supply  of  phosphate"  Promotes  considerably  the  assimUation 
of  nitrogen  by  the  plant. 

Potassium. — Potassium  is  absorbed  in  tbe  form  oi  a  vanety  of  salts, 
of  which  the  chloride  is  the  most  advantageous  form,  according 
to  Nobbe.  Like  phosphorus,  it  is  to  be  found  in  largest  quantity 
in  those  parts  of  plants  which  are  rich  in  protoplasmic  cell-contents. 
It  appears  to  have  an  important  influence  on  the  constructive  meta- 
bolic processes  of  plants  which  contain  chlorophyll.  Nobbe  found, 
in  the  case  of  a  Buckwheat  plant,  that  in  the  absence  of  a  supply 
of  potassium  its  growth  was  diminutive,  and  that  the  amount  of 
starch  in  the  plant  was  very  small.  On  the  addition  of  potassium 
chloride  to  the  water -culture  the  starch-grains  became  more 
numerous  in  the  chlorophyll-corpuscles,  and  made  their  appearance 
also  in  the  tissues  of  the  stem.  The  precise  significance  of  potas- 
sium in  relation  to  these  processes  is  not  known.  Liebig  was  of 
opinion  that  it  played  an  important  part  in  the  distribution  of 
carbohydrates  throughout  the  plant,  but  this  view  has  not  been 
confirmed.  It  appears  rather  that  the  facts  upon  which  this  view 
was.based  point  to  an  effect  due  not  to  the  potassium  itself  but  to 
the  particular  salt  of  it  which  was  absorbed  (see  "  chlorine  "  below). 
There  can  be  no  doubt,  however,  that  potassium  bears  some  im- 
portant relation  to  the  formation  and  storing  up  of  carbohydrates, 
for  it  is  always  present  in  large  quantity  in  organs,  such  as  leaves, 
tubers,  seeds,  &c. ,  in  which  these  processes  especially  take  place. 

Calcium. — The  compounds  in  which  calcium  is  usually  absorbed 
are  the  sulphate,  phosphate,  nitrate,  and  carbonate,  the  last-named 
salt  undergoing  decomposition  in  the  process.  It  appears  that  the 
chloride  is  injurious  to  plants.  The  precise  use  of  calcium  is  un- 
known. It  very  commonly  occurs  in  the  cells  of  plants  in  the  form 
of  crystals  of  the  carbonate  or  the  oxalate,  and  possibly  one  of  its 
important  functions  is  to  form  insoluble  salts  with  acids  which  are 
of  no  further  use  in  the  plant,  and  are  even  injurious  to  it. 

Magnesium.  — Like  calcium,  this  may  be  advantageously  absorbed 
in  the  form  of  all  its  salts,  except  the  chloride.  Nothing  definite 
is  known  as  to  its  use. 

/ron.— It  appears  that  iron  may  be  absorbed  in  the  form  of  any 
of  its  salts.  It  is  known  to  be  essential  only  to  those  plants  which 
contain  chlorophyll.  If  a  seedling  be  cultivated  by  the  method 
of  water-culture,  with  its  roots  in  a  solution  which  contains  no  iron, 
the  leaves  formed  will  be  successively  paler  in  colour  until  at  length 
they  are  nearly  white ;  in  this  state  the  plant  is  said  to  be  "chlorotic." 
If  a  small  quantity  of  a  salt  of  iron  bo  then  added  to  the  solution 
in  which  the  roots  are,  or  if  the  pale  leaves  be  painted  over  with  a 
dilute  solution  of  iron,  they  will  soon  become  green.  Iron,  there- 
fore, plays  an  important  part  in  connexion  with  the  formation 
of  the  green  colouring -matter  chlorophyll.  It  is  still  a  debated 
•question  whether  or  not  iron  enters  into  the  composition  of  the 
■chlorophyll-molecule. 

ClUorine. — Chlorine  is  absorbed  from  the  soil  in  the  form  of 
chlorides.  The  evidence  as  to  its  sigiiiGcaiico  in  the  nutrition  of 
plants  is  conflicting.  Nobbe,  Lcydhecker,  Boyer,  and  more  recently 
Fnrsky  have  observed  that  water-cultures  of  Buckwlieat,  Barley,  and 
Oats  do  not  flourish  when  grown  in  solutions  containing  uo  chlorides, 
and  since  the  chloropliyll-corpuscles  of  the  plants  become  crowded 
with  starch-grains  it  was  thought  that  chlorine  had  some  import- 
ance in  connexion  with  the  translocation  of  carbohydrates.  Knop 
and  Dworzak  have  obser\'ed,  on  the  other  hand,  that  llaize  plants 
will  grow  well  in  solutions  containing  no  chlorine,  and  further, 
that  the  accumulation  of  starch  in  the  chlorophyll-corpuscles  may 
be  induced  by  various  abnormal  external  conditions. 
lents  Sodium. — ^*rhi3  element  is  never  absent  from  the  ash  of  plants, 
ih.  and  in  some  cases,  especially  in  maritime  plants,  it  is  present  in 
considerable  quantity.  It  might  bo  inferred  from  its  constant 
occurrence  in  the  ash  that  sodium  is  of  some  importance  as  a  food- 
material  ;  it  was  tliought,  in  fact,  that  it  might  servo  as  a  substitute 
for  potassium,  but  this  has  not  been  found  to  be  the  case.  Its  con- 
stant presence  in  the  ash  is  due  merely  to  its  universal  distribution 
in  the  soiL 


Silicon. — Silicon  is  absorbed  in  the  form  of  soluble  silicates,  and 
possibly  as  soluble  silicic  acid.  The  silicatee  are  brought  into 
solution  to  some  extent  by  the  carbon  dioxide  present  in  the  soil, 
and  also  by  the  acid  sap  of  the  root-hairs.  It  is  always  present  in 
the  ash  of  plants,  sometimes  in  large  quantity  ;  in  wheat-straw,  for 
instance,  it  constitutes  67 '50  per  cent,  of  the  ash  (Wolfl^.  It  was 
thought  that  silicon  must  be  essential  to  nutrition.  Sachs  found, 
however,  that  a  Maize  plant  will  grow  well  in  a  water-culture  from 
which  it  can  obtain  no  silicon.  On  the  other  hand,  WolS'  has  ascer- 
tained that  in  the  case  of  Oats  the  number  of  perfect  seeds  formed 
is  greater  when  the  plant  is  abundantly  supplied  with  silicon. 

Constructive  Metabolism  (Anabolism). 

When  a  plant  is  adequately  supplied  with  appropriate 
food -materials,  the  external  conditions  to  which  it  is 
exposed  being  favourable,  it  increases  in  weight,  owing  to 
an  accumulation  of  the  substances  which  constitute  its 
organized  structure.  But  this  gain  in  weight  is  only  rela- 
tive ;  for  side  by  side  with  the  constructive  processes  by 
which  the  food  is  converted  into  the  substance  of  the 
plant — processes,  that  is,  which  have  as  their  result  the 
formation  of  relatively  complex  from  relatively  simple 
chemical  compounds — there  are  going  on  destructive  pro- 
cesses— processes,  that  is,  which  have  as  their  result  the 
formation  of  relatively  simple  from  relatively  complex 
chemical  compounds — which  are  attended  by  a  loss  of 
weight.  The  gain  in  weight  by  the  plant  represents  the 
difference  between  the  activity  of  the  constructive  and  of 
the  destructive  metabolic  processes  respectively.  The  end 
of  constructive  metabolism  is  the  formation  of  protoplasm. 
Protoplasm  is  certainly  a  very  complex  substance,  though 
its  precise  constitution  is  unknown,  and  the  food-materials 
of  plants  are  much  simpler  substances  ;  there  must,  there- 
fore, be  a  considerable  number  of  processes  to  be  gone 
through  before  protoplasm  can  be  produced  from  the  food- 
materials.  We  will  now  study  these  processes,  and,  in  the 
first  instance,  confine  our  attention  to  those  which  have 
been  ascertained  to  take  place  in  plants  which  possess 
chlorophyll. 

It  has  been  already  mentioned  that  a  green  plant  absorbs 
carbon  dioxide  when  it  is  exposed  to  light.  Under  these 
circumstances  it  also  increases  in  weight ;  it  does  not 
increase  in  weight  when  kept  in  the  dark,  nor  when  it  is 
kept  in  an  atmosphere  from  which  all  carbon  dioxide  has 
been  removed.  The  absorption  of  carbon  dioxide  is  then 
an  indication  that  the  plant  is  performing  certain  con- 
structive processes, — that  it  is  assimilating  carbon.  The 
absorption  of  carbon  dioxide  is  accompanied  by  an  evolu- 
tion of  oxygen  gas,  the  volume  of  the  latter  exhaled  being 
approximately  equivalent  to  that  of  the  carbon  dioxide 
absorbed.  This  is  an  indication  that  the  absorbed  carbon 
dioxide  is  undergoing  chemical  change.  It  seems  probable 
that  the  change  is  of  the  nature  expressed  by  the  follow,  ing 
equation — 

xCO,  -I-  a;llj0  =  x(CHaO)  +  xO, 

— that  is,  that  from  carbon  dioxide  and  water  a  substance 
allied  to  formic  aldehyde,  or  a  polymer  of  it,  is  formed, 
free  oxygen  being  evolved.  It  may  be  stated  generally, 
with  some  considerable  probability,  that  the  first  step  in 
the  constructive  metabolism  of  a  plant  containing  chloro- 
phyll is  the  formation  of  a  non-nitrogenous  organic 
compound.  It  is  just  this  formation  of  non-nitrogticous 
organic  substance  from  carbon  dioxide  and  water  thai  the 
plant  which  is  destitute  of  chlorophyll  is  unable  to  per- 
form ;  and  it  is  on  account  of  this  inability  that  the  carbon 
of  its  food  nitst  bo  supplied  to  it  in  the  form  of  organic 
compounds,  as  pointed  out  above.  The  further  i)roce8se8 
of  constructive  metabolism  appear  to  bo  much  the  same 
in  all  plants,  whether  they  contain  chloropliyll  or  not. 
The  next  step  is  probably  the  formation  of  sonio  relatively 
simple  nitrogenous  organic  substances  from  the  nitrogen 
of  the  food  and  the  '  on-nitrogfesous  organic  Bubstance 


lU-4 


50 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[vegetable. 


which  has  been  either  formed  in  the  plant  or  absorbed 
as  food  from  without.  The  nitrogenous  substances  thus 
formed  are  probably  crystallizable  bodies,  such  as  asparagin 
and  leucin,  which  all  contain  nitrogen  in  the  form  of  the 
group  NH2.  The  derivation  of  these  substances  from  the 
nitrogenous  food  when  it  contains  nitrogen  in  the  form 
of  ammonia  (NH3)  is  sufficiently  obvious.  "When,  how- 
ever, it  consists  of  nitrates  it  appears  probable  that  the 
nitrogen  of  the  nitric  acid  has  to  be  transformed  into  the 
nitrogen  of  ammonia, — that  is,  to  be  combined  directly  with 
hydrogen  ;  it  is  probably  owing  to  their  inability  to  effect 
this  transformation  that  some  plants,  as  mentioned  above, 
cannot  be  supplied  with  nitrogen  in  the  form  of  nitrates. 
The  first  step  in  this  transformation  is-  probably,  as 
Emmerling  has  pointed  out,  the  decomposition  of  the 
absorbed  nitrates  by  the  organic  acids,  especially  the 
oxalic,  of  the  plant ;  the  liberated  nitric  acid  then  under- 
goes chemical  change,  resulting  in  the  formation  of 
ammonia.  It  is  impossible  to  say  with  precision  how 
this  is  effected,  but  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  it  does 
take  place ;  some  direct  evidence  is  afforded  by  Hosaeus's 
observation  that  ammonia  salts  were  to  be  found  on  ana- 
lysis in  a  number  of  plants  which  had  been  supplied  with 
manure  containing  no  ammonia.  The  next  process  is  an 
increase  in  the  size  and  complexity  of  the  molecule, 
attended  in  certain  cases  by  the  introduction,  of  new 
elements  (S  and  P),  the  product  being  one  of  tliose  sub- 
stances which  are  known  as  "proteids."  The  last  stage  is 
the  formation  of  living  protoplasm  from  the  proteid  and 
other  organic  substances.  , 
""orms  The  formation  of  nitrogenous  organic  substance  may 
•ion  of  take  place  in  any  living  cell,  and,  unlike  the  formation  of 
""'''°'  non-nitrogenous  organic  substance,  it  goes  on  quite  inde- 
irganic  pendently  of  the  presence  of  chlorophyll  and  of  the  action 
»ub-  of  light.  But  there  is  evidence  to  show  that  in  green 
Stance,  plants  it  is  especially  in  the  cells  which  contain  the  chloro- 
phyll that  the  process  goes  on.  The  experiments  by  which 
this  evidence  has  been  obtained  were  made  on  plants  with 
distinctly  differentiated  leaves.  Emmerling  observed  in 
the  Bean  that,  whereas  in  the  root  a  relatively  large 
quantity  of  nitric  acid  could  be  detected,  there  was  much 
less  in  the  stem,  and  in  the  leaves  none  at  all,  and  he 
inferred  that  as  the  nitrates  are  supplied  to  the  leaves 
they  are  used  up  in  the  formation  of  organic  nitrogenous 
sutetance.  Further,  from  the  researches  of  KeUner, 
Emmerling,  Borodin,  and  others  it  appears  that  the  leaves 
contain  the  above-mentioned  crystallizable  organic  sub- 
stances, asparagin,  leucin,  ic,  in  considerable  quantity ; 
and  it  is  quite  possible  that  these  substances  may  be 
formed  synthetically  in  the  leaves,  though  it  is  true  that 
■>  they  may  be  formed  in  other  ways  as  well.  Finally, 
Pott  has  found  that  the  proportion  of  proteid  in  the 
plant  increases  from  the  roots  upwards  •  towards  the 
[eaves,  the  proportion  in  the  latter  being  about  twice  as 
great  as  that  in  the  former  of  many  of  the  plants  which 
he  analysed. 

The  formation  of  living- protoplasm  from  the  organic 
substances  elaborated  from  the  food  necessarily  goes  on  in 
every  living  cell.  It  has  been  already  mentioned  that  de- 
structive metabolism — that  is,  processes  of  decomposition — 
is  active  in  living  cells,  and  it  is  especially  the  protoplasm 
which  is  the  seat  of  these  processes.  The  maintenance  of 
the  life  of  the  cell  is  therefore  an  indication  of  the  fact 
that  the  activity  of  the  destructive  metabolism  is  at  least 
equalled  by  the  activity  of  the  constructive  metabolism. 
In  a  young  cell  the  latter  exceeds  the  former,  so  that  the 
protoplasm  is  increased  in  quantity ;  then  for  a  time  the 
two  are  approximately  equivalent,  until  at  length  the 
destructive  gradually  gains  the  upper  hand,  and  eventually 
the  death  of  the  cell  is  the  result. 


Destructive  Metabolism  (Kaiabolism). 

Just  as  all  the  processes  by  which  increasingly  complex 
organic  substances  are  formed  in  the  plant,  and  which 
intervene  between  the  food-materials  on  the  one  hand  and 
the  protoplasm  on  the  other,  are  designated  collectively 
"constructive  metabolism,"  so  all  the  processes  of  decom- 
position by  which  relatively  simple  substances  are  produced 
from  relative  complex  ones,  and  which  intervene  between 
the  protoplasm  on  the  one  hand  and  the  excreta  and  other 
w-aste- products  on  the  other,  are  designated  collectively 
"destructive  metabolism."  Of  all  the  various  processes 
of  destructive  metabolism  the  most  fundamental  is  the- 
decomposition  of  the  protoplasm.  It  appears  that  this 
decomposition  is  spontaneous — that  it  is,  as  Pfliiger  t^rms 
it,  a  "self-decomposition";  and  it  is,  in  fact,  only  so  long 
as  this  self-decomposition  is  proceeding  that  protoplasm 
can  be  said  to  be  living.  The  destructive  metabolism  of 
an  organism  is  not,  however,  confined  to  the  self-decom- 
position of  its  protoplasm ;  the  various  complex  organic 
substances  which  the  cells  contain  may  undergo  chemical 
change  quite  independently  of  their  entering  into  the 
metabolism  of  the  protoplasm.  The  most  active  agents 
in  producing  chemical  changes  of  this  kind  are  certain 
bodies  which  are  termed  "  ferments,"  and  are  distinguished 
as  "  unorganized  "  ferments  from  the  so-called  "  organized  " 
ferments,  such  as  Yeast  and  Bacteria.  But  little  is  known 
as  to  their  chemical  composition,  and  nothing  as  to  the 
peculiarity  of  chemical  constitution  upon  which  their  char- 
acteristic properties  depend.  .. , 

The  unorganized  ferments  which  have  hitherto  been  detected  in 
plants  may  be  classified,  according  to  the  natui-e  of  the  chemical 
changes  which  they  induce,  in  the  following  four  groups. 

1.  ferments  which  convert  starch  into  sugar  (diastatic  ferments). 
These  have  been  found  to  be  very  widely  distributed  in  plants, 
and  in  fact  it  seems  probable  that  a  ferment  of  this  kind  is  present 
in  all  living  plant-cells.  Their  mode  of  action  is  generally  indicated 
by  the  following  equation — 

Starch.  Maltose. 

2(C6H,„05)-hHjOiC,„Hj,Ou. 

2.  Ferments  which  convert  cane-sugar  into  glucose  (inverting 
ferments).  A  ferment  of  this  Ivind,  termed  "invertin,"  has  been 
obtained  from  Yeast  ;  it  is  probable  that  a  similar  ferment  is  present 
in  succulent  fruits,  for  they  commonly  contain  a  mixture  oX  cane- 
sugar  and  glucose.  The  following  eouation  will  indicate  the  nature 
of  the  process — 

Cane-sugar.  Dextrose.      Laevulose. 

Ci^HjA:  +  H,0  =  CeHiA  +  CeH,  A- 

3.  Ferments  which  decompose  glucosides.     The  most  Xamiliai' 

members  of  this  group  are  emulsin  or  synaptase,  found  in  the 

Bitter  Almond ;  myrosin,  in  the  seed  of  the  Black  Jlustard ;  cryth. 

rozym,  in  the  root  of  the  Jladder.     The  following  f  juatiou  repre« 

seuts  the  decomposition  of  the  glucoside  amygdalin  by  emulsiu — 

.  ,  ,.  Oil  of  Bitter  Prussic       f,-,,, .,„ 

Amygdata.  Almonds.      Acid.         Glucose. 

CjoH-^KOi,  +  2H„0= CjHsO  -f  HCN  -f  2(C5Hi„0«). 

4.  Ferments  which  convert  proteids  that  are  inditiusibla  and 
may  be  insoluble  in  water  into  others  (peptones)  which  are  both 
soluble  and  diflusible.  These,  which  are  only  active  in  the  presence 
of  free  acid,  are  tenned  "  peptic  "  ferments.  They  have  been  found 
in  quantity  in  the  latex  of  certain  plants  {Carica  Papaya  and  Ficua 
Carica)  aud  in  the  liquid  excretion  of  carnivorous  plants.  It  is, 
of  course,  impossible  to  represent  by  an  equation  the  nature  of  the 
chemical  change  which  these  ferments  induce. 

It  is  probable  that  other  ferments  than  these  may  be  present  in 
plants,  but  they  have  not  yet  been  actually  obtained.  There  is 
probably  one  which  decomposes  fats  (glycerides)  into  glycerin  and 
the  corresponding  fatty  acid,  thus — 

Olein.  Oleic  Acid.     Glycerin. 

C57H104O6  +  SHoO  =  SCjsH^O. -f  C^HsOj. 

Miintz  and  Yon  Rechenberg  have  pointed  out  that  the  quantity 
of  free  fatty  acids  in  oily  seeds  increases  very  much  during  germina- 
tion, and  the  only  satisfactory  explanation  of  this  fact  which  can 
at  present  be  offered  is  that  it  is  the  result  of  the  decomposition  of 
the  fats,  in  the  manner  indicated  above,  by  an  unorganized  ferment. 
Again,  it  was  mentioned  above  that  crystallizable  nitrogenous 
organic  substances,  such  as  leucin,  asparagin,  ard  tyrosin,  occur 
in  plants,  and  it  was  pointed  out  that  they  may  be  formed  synthetic- 
ally. But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they  may  be,  and  frequently 
are,  formed  analytically, — that  is,  by  the  decomposition  of  more 


rBGETABI-E.J 


PHYSIOLOGY 


5\ 


complex  substances.  For  instance,  when  the  seeds  of  leguminous 
plants,  such  as  the  Pea  or  the  Bean,  germinate,  the  quantity  of 
proteid  substance  diminishes,  and  the  quantity  of  amides,  notably 
aspara^n,  increases  ;  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  latter  are 
derived  from  the  former.  It  is  well  known  that  similar  changes  take 
place  in  the  pancreatic  digestion  of  animals,  that  Icucin  and  tyrosin 
are  formed  from  protcids,  and  that  this  is  effected  by  an  unorganized 
ferment  termed  "trypsin";  it  is  quite  possible  that  a  ferment  of  this 
kind  may  be  present  in  plants.  Finally,  there  is  probably,  in  cer- 
tain plants  at  least,  a  ferment  which  converts  cellulose  into  sugar. 
For  instance,  the  Date  seed  contains  a  quantity  of  non-nitrogenous 
reserve  material  stored  up  as  cellulose  in  its  very  thick  cell-walls  ; 
on  germination  this  undergoes  absorption  and  is  conveyed  to  the 
embryo ;  it  is  extremely  probable  that  the  convei-siou  of  the  in- 
soluble cellulose  into  some  soluble  substance  (doubtless  sugar)  is 
effected  by  the  action  of  a  ferment.  The  penetration  of  the  absorb- 
ent organs  of  parasites  into  the  tissues  of  their  hosts  is  probably 
effected  by  tlie  action  of  a  ferment  of  this  kind  which  is  excreted 
by  the  parasite. 

Blit  there  are  still  other  chemical  changes  to  be  accounted 
for  as  £he  result  of  which  substances  relatively  rich  in 
oxygen  are  produced  from  others  which  are  relatively  poor 
in  that  element.  Some  of  these  are,  so  far  as  is  known, 
proce.sses  of  simple  oxidation,  which  go  on  as  readily  out- 
side the  organism  as  within  it ;  for  instance,  chlorophyll 
Ls  oxidized  quite  as  readily  in  alcoholic  solution  as  when 
it  exists  in  the  chlorophyll -corpuscles  of  a  plant;  these 
processes  of  simple  oxidation  may  then  be  regarded  as 
going  on  independently  of  the  vital  activity  of  the  organism. 
But  there  are  other  and  more  complex  oxidations  which 
may  be  termed  "oxidative  decompositions";  these  involve 
something  more  than  mere  oxidation,  and  appear  to  de- 
pend upon  the  vital  activity  of  the  organism. 

The  following  instances  may  be  given  to  illustrate  the  nature  of 
these  changes.     Ethyl -alcohol  becomes  oxidized,  under  the  influence 
of  a  Fungus  knowii  as  the  ilycodcrma  Aceii,  aa  follows — 
Acetic  aoid. 

CoHgO  -H  O3  =  O^Hfi^  +  HjO. 
Another  similar  Fungus,  the  Mi/i-.oderma  Vini,  induces  a  more  com- 
plete oxidative  decomposition  of  alcohol, — carbon  dioxide  and  water 
being  the  products  of  its  action.  Again,  a  substance  termed 
"pyrocatechin"  and  various  organic  acids  occur  in  plants,  and  there 
seems  reason,  from  the  researches  of  Hoppe-Seyler  and  of  Carl 
Kraus,  to  believe  that  they  are  derived  from  carbohydrates  in  some 
such  way  as  the  following — 

Qluoosc.  Pyrncstechin.  Succinic  aold. 

SC,H,jO,  +  40j  =  CeHeO,  +  3C,H,0.  +  311,0, 
it  being  understood  that  this  suggests  only  one  of  the  ways  in 
which  the  vegetable  acids  are  formed. 

There  are  yet  other  processes  of  decomposition  which, 
like  the  oxidative  decompositions,  are  effected  under  the 
influence  of  living  pi-otoplasm,  but  which,  unliko  them,  do 
not  depend  upon  the  presence  of  oxygen  ;  on  the  contrary, 
these  decompositions,  which  may  be  generally  termed  "fer- 
mentations," depend  upon  the  absence  of  free  oxygen,  for 
their  activity  is  the  greater  the  more  limited  the  supply 
of  this  element.  A  characteristic  example  of  this  kind  is 
afforded  by  the  decomposition  of  sug^r  into  alcohol  and 
carbon  dioxide,  which  is  effected  by  Yeast,  and  is  known 
as  the  "  alcoholic  fermentation."  Its  nature  is  indicated 
by  the  following  equation — 

C,H„Oe=2C,H,0  +  2CO,. 
Again,  various  forms  of  Bacteria  effect  decompositions  of 
this  kind.  Of  these  the  putrefaction  of  organic  matter, 
the  lactic  and  butyric  fermentation.^,  are  examples.  It  must 
not  bo  supposed,  however,  that  the  property  of  exciting 
fermentation  is  confined  to  the  protoplasm  of  lowly  plants 
such  as  Yeast  and  Bacteria.  It  has  been  found  that  various 
fermentations  are  set  up  when  living  plant-organs  of  any 
kind---leayes,  flowers,  fruits,  seeds — are  kept  in  an  atmo- 
sphere which  contains  no  free  oxygen. 

The  characteristic  accompaniment  of  the  destructive 
metabolism  of  plants,  as  of  all  living  organisms,  is,  under 
normal  condition.s,  that  interchange  of  gases  between  the 
plant  and  the  atmosphere  which  is  known  as  "  respiration," 
and  which  consists  in  the  absorption  of  oxygen  and  the 


evolution  of  carbon  dioxide.  It  may  be  stated  generally 
that  the  continual  absorption  of  free  oxygen  is  essential  to 
the  existence  of  at  least  the  more  highly-organized  plants, 
and  that  in  the  absence  of  a  supply  of  free  oxygen  they 
die.  Death  under  these  circumstances  is  to  be  attributed 
to  the  arrest  of  those  metabolic  processes  which  are 
accompanied  by  an  evolution  of  kinetic  energy  in  the 
organism — that  is,  of  the  destructively  metabolic  processe* ;' 
and  of  these  by  far  the  mOot  important  is  the  self-decom-'. 
position  of  the  protoplasm.  It  would  appear  that  the 
absorption  of  oxygen  is  essential  to  the  self-decomposition 
of  the  protoplasm-molecule.  It  ia  impossible  to  say  any- 
thing definite  as  to  the  mode  in  which  oxygen  affects  this 
process.  Pfliiger  has,  however,  suggested  tiat  the  absorbed 
oxygen  enters  into  the  protoplasm-molecule  as  "intra- 
molecular "  oxygen,  that  the  molecule  ia  thereby  rendered 
unstable,  and  that  it  then  readily  undergoes  deconposition. 

In  contrast  to  the  plants  which  continue  U  live  only 
when  supplied  with  free  oxygen  (the  aerobia^  as  Pasteuif 
has  termed  them)  stand  the  anaerobia — those,  namely, 
which  thrive  best  in  the  absence  of  free  oxygen,  and  ta 
wliich,  in  certain  cases,  the  access  of  free  oxygen  is  fatal ; 
of  the  latter,  certain  Schizomycetes  and  Saccharomycetes 
may  be  taken  as  examples.  It  is  remarkable  that  it  is 
just  the  anaerobiotic  plants  which  are  most  highly  endowed 
with  the  property  of  exciting  fermentation  ;  and  this,  taken 
in  conjunction  with  the  fact  that  the  activity  of  fermenta- 
tion stands  in  an  inverse  relation  to  the  supply  of  fre? 
oxygen,  indicates  the  existence  of  some  sort  of  correlation 
between  the  normal  respiratory  and  the  fermentative  pro^ 
cesses.  It  appears  that  in  aerobiotic  plants  the  norma) 
processes  of  destructive  metabolism,  of  which  the  absorption 
of  oxygen  and  the  evolution  of  carbon  dioxide  are  the  out 
ward  expression,  may  be  replaced  for  a  longer  or  shortei 
time  by  those  abnormal  processes  of  which  fermentation  is 
tho  outward  expression ;  in  completely  anaerobiotic  plants 
the  fermentative  are  the  normal  processes.  It  is  difficult 
to  explain  the  physiological  significance  of  fermentationi 
and  to  determine  the  manner  in  which  it  contributes  t* 
the  maintenance  of  the  life  of  the  organism.  Pasteur  baa 
suggested  that  it  is  tho  "expression  of  an  effort  of  tho 
organism  to  obtain  oxygen  from  substances  which  contain 
it  in  combination.  Another  possible  view  is  that  tha 
organism  obtains,  by  the  fermentative  decomposition  of  the 
substances  upon  which  it  acts,  the  supply  of  energy  which,' 
in  the  case  of  an  aerobiotic  plan(,  is  afforded  by  the  normal 
decomposition  of  its  own  protoplasm-molecules. 

The  products  of  destructive  metabolism  are  extremely 
numerous  and  of  very  different  chemical  nature.  They  may 
be  roughly  classified  into  two  groups:  (1)  the  wasie-productt, 
substances  wliich  cannot  be  used  in  the  constructive  meta- 
bolism of  tho  plant,  and  which  may  be  excreted  ;  and  (2) 
tho  plastic  products,  substances  which  can  enter  into  th» 
constructive  metabolism. 

1.  Waste-Products. — Among  the  waste -products  thj 
most  constant  are  carbon  dioxide  and  water,  whicli  ari 
exhaled  in  respiration  ;  it  may,  in  fact,  be  stated  generally 
that  all  living  plants  and  parts  of  plants  exhale  carbon 
dioxide  and  watery  vapour  at  all  times.  There  is,  however; 
no  constant  relation  between  tho  volumes  of  carbon  dioxide 
exhaled  and  of  oxygen  ab.sorbed  in  respiration,  and  tho 
processes  of  destructive  metabolism,  of  which  the  respira- 
tory interchange  of  gases  is  the  external  expression,  are  so 
complex  that  tho  relation,  whatever  it  may  be,  between  tho 
volumes  of  these  gases  in  any  particular  case  cannot  bo 
accounted  for.  The  degree  of  independence  between  these 
processes  is  well  illustrated  by  the  fact  that  tho  absorption 
of  oxygen  is  relatively  greater  at  low  temperatures,  and 
that  the  exhalation  of  carbon  dioxide  is  rcl.itivfly  greater 
at  high  temperatures.     This  seems  to  indicate  that  at  a 


52 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[vegetable. 


low  temperature  the  storing-up  of  intramolecular  oxygen 
is  relatively  more  active  than  the  decomposition  of  the 
protoplasm-molecules,  whereas  at  a  high  temperature  the 
converse  is  the  case.  At  medium  temperatures  these  pro- 
cesses are  about  equally  active,  for  it  has  been  ascertained 
in  various  cases  that  the  volumes,  of  oxygen  absorbed  and 
of  carbon  dioxide  exhaled  are  under  these  circumstances 
approximately  equal.  It  must  not,  however,  be  concluded 
that  the  exhalation  of  carbon  dioxide  is  entirely  independ- 
ent of  the  absorption  of  oxygen,  for  the  observations  of 
Broughton,  Wilson,  and  Wortmann  all  show  that  when 
plants  are  deprived  of  a  supply  of  free  oxygen  the  activity 
of  the  exhalation  of  carbon  dioxide  rapidly  diminishes. 

Among  the  other  waste-products  the  following  are  those 
which  are  of  most  common  occurrence, — organic  acids, 
aromatic  substances,  colouring  matters,  bitter  nrinciples. 
.  certain  fatty  bodies,  alkaloids. 
Organk  (1.)  Organic  Acids. — The  organic  acids  are  very  generally  pre- 
tcida.  sent  in  plants,  either  free  or  in  combination  with  organic  or  in- 
organic bases,  and  it  is  to  the  presence  of  these  acids  or  of  their 
acid-salts  that  the  acid  reaction  of  plant-tissues  is  due.  Those 
most  commonly  occurring  are  the  malic,  tartari?!,  citric,  oxalic, 
and  fatty  acids,  the  last-named  being  generally  in  combination 
with  glycerin,  forming  fats  (elycerides).  There  can  be  little  doubt 
that  they  are  to  be  regarded  as  products  of  destructive  metabolic 
processes,  though  Licbig  regarded  some  of  the  more  highly-oxidized 
acids  as  the  first  products  of  con-structive  metabolism,  and  as  being 
formed  from  carbon  dioxide  and  water  in  the  cells  which  contain 
chlorophyll.  It  is  not  so  clear  that  they  are  all  to  be  regarded  as 
waste-products  ;  it  appears  possible  that  some  of  the  less  highly- 
oxidized  may  undergo  reduction  with  the  formation  in  carbo- 
hydrates, for  it  has  been  observed,  especially  by  Beyer,  that  in 
ripening  fruits  the  acids  diminish  and  the  sugar  increases  in 
quantity.  Again,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  fats  enter  into  con- 
Btructive  metabolism,  and  hence  the  fatty  acids  must  be  regarded 
as  plastic  products.  The  more  highly -oxidized  acids  are  almost 
certainly  waste-products.  Oxalic  acid,  for  instance,  is  commonly 
found  as  crystals  of  calcium  oxalate  which,  in  most  cases  at  any 
rate,  undergo  no  alteration.  It  appears  that  the  oxalic  acid  is 
withdrawn  in  this  way  from  the  sphere  of  metabolism,  and,  inas- 
much as  these  crystals  are  deposited  especially  in  the  deciduous 
parts  of  the  plant,  it  is  also  ultimately  got  rid  of.  It  is  probable 
that  the  organic  acids  are  largely  produced  as  the  result  of  oxidative 
decompositions  (see  supra).  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  self- 
decomposition  of  protoplasm  is  attended  by  a  formation  of  acids, 
espei'.ially  of  nitrogenous  acids,  such  as  the  aspartic  and  gluta- 
mmic,  and  of  fatty  acids. 

In  addition  to  their  significance  in  the  constructive  metabolism 
of  plants  the  organic  acids  are  of  use  in  other  ways.  Their  presence 
in  the  living  cells  contributes  to  the  maintenance  of  the  turgid  con- 
dition ;  the  presence  of  acid-sap  in  the  root-hairs  renders  possible 
the  solution  and  absorption  of  mineral  substances  which  are  insoluble 
in  water ;  oxalic  acici,  at  least,  decomposes  the  salts  absorbed  by 
the  loots  ;  and  finally  it  appears  that  the  organic  acids  are  capable 
of  inducing  the  conversion  of  one  carbohydrate  into  another — cane- 
sugar  into  glucose,  for  instance — and  they  may  in  this  way  play  an 
important,  though  hitherto  undetermined,  part  in  the  general 
metabolism  of  plants. 
Aroii-i-  (2.)  Aromatic  Substances. — These  occur  generally  in  the  form  of 
Htsub-  glucosidos,  the  most  common  of  which  is  tannin.  The  glucosides 
llanctJ.  are  bodies,  for  the  most  part  non-nitrogenous,  which  yield  sugar 
on  decomposition  amongst  other  substances.  In  so  far  as  they 
yield  sugar  they  may  be  regarded  as  plastic  products  ;  but  the 
aromatic  substances  to  which  they  give  rise  on  decomposition  are 
waste-products,  for  it  appears  from  the  observations  which  have 
been  made  on  this  point  that  the  higher  plants,  at  least,  cannot  avail 
themselves  of  carbon  when  combined  in  an  aromatic  molecule  for 
the  purposes  of  their  constructive  metabolism.  Probably  the  resins 
which  are  so  commonly  present  in  plants  are  derived  from  tannin. 
The  first  step  is  the  formation  of  a  terpene  (C,(,H]e)  in  the  secreting 
cells ;  this  is  then  excreted  into  the  ducts  and  undergoes  partial 
oxiiUtion  with  the  formation  of  resin.  In  connexion  with  the 
terpenes  two  hydrocarbons,  caoutchouc  and  gutta-percha  (CsHj)^, 
may  be  mentioned,  which  occur  in  the  latex  of  certain  plants. 

It  is  not  possible  to  make  any  definitive  statement  as  to  the  mode 
of  origin  of  the  aromatic  substances  in  the  plant,  but  the  fact  that 
tannin  is  constantly  present  in  the  cells  of  parts  in  which  destruc- 
tive metabolism  is  active — growing  points,  mobile  organs  of  leaves, 
gtlls,  for  example — tends  to  prove  that  this  glucoside  at  least  may 
be  derived  Irom  protoplasm.  It  must  not  be  overlooked,  too,  that 
substances  like  tyrosin,  which  contain  an  aromatic  radical,  occur 
in  plants,  and  that  they  are  derived  more  or.  less  directly  from 
protoplasm. 


(3.)  Colouring  Matters.  —  The  principal  colouiiiig  matters  of 
plants  are — (a)  those  which  occur  in  the  walls  of  the  bark-ceils  of 
trees  and  shrubs  (phlobaphenes) ;  (6)  those  of  woods,  such  a» 
logwood  ;  (c)  those  which  occur  in  solution  in  the  cell-sap,  as  in 
most  flowers  ;  (d)  those  which  occur  in  connexion  with  protoplasmic 
corpuscles,  as  in  the  AJgse  and  in  the  leaves  and  other  green  parts 
of  the  higher  plants.  With  regard  to  the  three  first-named  groups 
it  appears  probable  that  they  are  derived  in  various  ways  from 
tannin. 

Of  the  colouring  matters  winch  occur  in  connexion  with  proto- 
plasmic corpuscles  by  far  the  most  important  is  chlorophyll,  the 
substance  to  which  plants  owe  their  green  colour.  The  corpuscle 
has  a  spongy  structure,  the  interstices  of  w  hich  are  occupied  by  the 
chlorophyll  in  solution  in  some  fatty  substance.  The  other  colour- 
ing matters  which  may  be  present  in  corpuscles  are — ctiolin, 
yellow,  which  is  apparently  present  in  all  chlorophyll-corpuscles, 
conspicuously  so  in  those  in  parts  of  normally  green  plants  which 
have  been  growing  in  darkness,  and  is  apparently  an  antecedent  of 
chlorophyll ;  xanthophyll,  also  yellow,  and  commonly  preseut  in 
chlorophyll -corpuscles,  especially  in  those  of  fading  leaves,  prob- 
ably a  derivative  of  chlorophyll ;  anthoxanthin,  also  yellow,  the 
colouring  matter  of  yellow  flowers,  and  a  derivative  of  chlorophyll ; 
phycoxanthin,  bro^vnish,  present  in  the  chlorophyll-corpuscles  of 
the  brown  Algse  (Phseophycex  or  Melanophyccm) ;  phycoeryihin,  red, 
present  in  the  chlorophyll-corpuscles  of  the  red  Algm  (Ehodophyccm, 
Fhridea). 

Chlorophyll  is  a  substance  of  such  great  physiological 
importance  that  the  conditions  of  its  formation  and  its 
properties  must  be  treated  of  in  some  detail.  The  general 
conditions  upon  which  its  formation  depends  are  (a)  ex- 
posure to  light,  (b)  a  sufficiently  high  temperature,  (c)  a 
supply  of  iron.  Plants  which  are  normally  green  are  not 
green  if  they  have  been  grown  in  the  dark,  or  if  the  tem- 
peratuie  has  been  too  low,  or  if  they  have  not  been  supplied 
with  iron ;  they  are  usually  yellow,  and  in  the  last  case 
especially  they  may  be  quite  colourless.  Normally  green 
plants  which  have  been  kept  in  the  dark  or  at  too  low  a 
temperature  are  said  to  be  "etiolated,"  since  they  form 
etiolin ;  plants  which  have  grown  in  absence  of  a  supply 
of  iron  are  said  to  be  "chlorotic."  There  are  good  grounds 
for  regarding  etiolin  as  an  antecedent  to  chlorophyll.  It 
is  formed  in  the  corpuscle  in  darkness  and  at  a  tempera- 
ture lower  than  that  which  is  necessary  for  the  formation 
of  chlorophyll.  It  appears  from  the  researches  of  Gris, 
Mikosch,  and  others  that  when  the  corpuscle  is  about  to 
form  etiolin  it  contains  a  starch-granule,  and  that  as  it 
assumes  a  yellow  colour  the  included  starch-granule  dimi- 
nishes in  size  and  may  disappear.  It  must  not  be  inferred 
from  thb  observation  that  the  etiolin  is  directly  formed 
from  the  starch.  It  is  more  probable  that  it  is  derived 
from  the  protoplasm,  and  that,  as  the  protoplasm  is  con- 
sumed in  the  formation  of  the  etiolin,  the  starch  is  used 
in  the  construction  of  fresh  protoplasm.  Under  the  in- 
fluence of  light  and  of  a  sufficiently  high  temperature  the 
yellow  etiolin  is  converted  into  the  green  chlorophyll,  but 
nothing  is  known  as  to  the  nature  of  the  process  by  which 
the  conversion  is  effected. 

With  regard  to  the  physical  properties  of  cliiorophyll  Pro- 
it  has  long  been  known  that  it  is  soluble  in  alcohol,  ether,  pertiej 
benzol,  chloroform,  carbon  disulphide,  and  various  oils.  "^^  ™" 
Hansen  has  obtained,  by  a  process  of  saponification,  from 
the  alcoholic  extract  of  leaves  a  green  crystalline  substance, 
probably  the  purest  form  of  chlorophyll  yet  obtained, 
which  is  readily  soluble  in  water.  All  solutions  of  chloro- 
phyll in  the  above-mentioned  media  are  fluorescent, — that 
is,  v/hen  they  are  viewed  by  reflected  light  they  appear 
opaque  and  of  a  deep  lake-red  colour,  but  when  thin 
layers  are  viewed  by  transmitted  light  they  appear  green. 
If  the  light  which  has  passed  through  a  layer  of  a  moder- 
ately strong  solution  be  examined  with  the  spectroscope 
a  characteristic  absorption -spectrum  will  be  observed. 
Beginning  at  the  red  end  of  the  spectrum,  a  well-marked 
dark  band  will  be  seen  between  Frannhofer's  lines  B  and 
C,  extending  rather  beyond  C,  a  second  dark  band  in  the 
orange  between  C  and  D,  a  third  very  faint  band  at  the 


VEGETABLE.]  P     H    Y     S     I 

junction  of  the  yellow  and  the  green,  ana  a  fourth  more 
distinct  band  in  the  green  near  F.  \Vhen  an  alcoholic 
extract  of  leaves  is  used,  as  is  ordinarily  the  case,  the 
whole  of  the  blue  end  of  the  spectrum  beyond  F  is 
absorbed,  in  consequence  of  the  coalescence  of  three  broad 
bands,  which  can  be  seen  separately  when  a  very  dilute 
"olution  is  used,  two  of  the  bands  being  in  the  blue  between 
F  and  G,  and  one  at  the  end  of  the  violet.  The  spectrum 
of  the  alcoholic  extract  presents  then  seven  bands  in  all. 
According  to  Hansen,  the  spectrum  of  solutions  of  his 
crystallized  chlorophyll  possesses  only  the  first  four  of  the 
above-mentioned  bands,  and  it  is  only  when  very  thick 
layers  are  used  that  the  blue  end  of  the  spectrum  is 
absorbed ;  this  is  true  also  of  the  spectrum  of  the  green 
colouring  matter  obtained  by  Tschirch. 

Little  is  as  yet  known  as  to  the  chemical  composition  of 
chlorophyll.  Gautier  and  Hcppe-Seyler  have  both  obtained 
a  crystalline  green  substance  from  the  alcoholic  extracts 
of  leaves,  termed  by  the  latter  "  chlorophyllan,"  which  is 
not  to  be  regarded  as  pure  chlorophyll.  The  follovring 
are  their  analyses  of  this  substance,  to  which  is  added 
for  comparison  Hansen's  analysis  of  the  green  crystalline 
substance  which  he  obtained — 

Gautier.  Hoppe-SeyUr,  Hansen. 

C 73-97              73-34  6033 

H    9-SO                 9-/2  9-37 

N    4-15                5-68  4-77 

0    10-33                9-54  14-77 

A=l>    --l-'5      iMg.J-S^j  10'6 

Hansen  states  that  the  ash  found  by  him  is  due  to  the 
previous  processes  of  preparation,  and  that  the  only  normal 
ash-constituent  is  iron,  which  neither  Gautier  nor  Hoppe- 
Seyler  hnd  discovered.  Tschirch  on  reducing  chlorophyllan 
by  mean^'of  zinc-dust  has  obtained  a  green  substance  which 
does  not ,  crystallize,  and  is  soluble  in  alcohol,  ether,  and 
oils,  but  not  in  water.  This  he  believes  to  be  pure  chloro- 
phyll. From  the  percentage  composition  of  the  crystals 
of  chlorophyllan  Gautier  deduces  the  formula  CjgH^.jNjOg, 
and  draws  attention  to  the  similarity  between  this  and 
the  formula  of  bilirubin  (CjeHnNjOg).  Hoppe-Seyler 
concludes  that  chlorophyllan  contains  phosphorus  in  its 
molecule,  and  is  either  a  lecithin  or  a  lecithin  compound. 
Schunck  has  found  that  the  residue  of  an  ethereal  solution 
of  chlorophyll  when  treated  with  sulphuric  or  hydrochloric 
acid  yields  glucose  amongst  other  products  ;  he  therefore 
regards  chlorophyll  as  a  glucoside. 

(4.)  B liter  Principles. — It  has  been  ascertained  that  some  of 
these  are  gUicosides,  and  Some  alkaloids,  but  the  chemical  nature 
of  many  of  them  is  still  undetermined.  Such  are  santonin 
(CisHigOj),  aloia  (CijH^O-),  quasiin  (CioHuOj).  It  is  impossible 
at  present  to  say  anything  as  to  the  possible  mode  of  their  origin 
or  as  to  their  physiological  significance  in  the  plant. 

(5.)  Ccrlain  Fatly  Bodies. — The  ordinary  fats  (glyceridos)  are  to 
be  regarded  as  plastic  products,  and  they  will  be  subsequently 
treated  of  uudcr  that  head.  But  there  are  certain  fatty  bodies  of 
which  this  statement  cannot  be  made ;  these  are  cliolesteriu, 
lecithin,  and  wax.  It  is  not  known  how  these  substances  are 
formed,  but  probably  they,  like  the  ordinary  fats,  are  dfcrived  from 
protoplasm.  This  view  is  especially  probable  w-ith  regard  to  lecithin, 
which  is  a  nitrogenous  and  phosphorized  fat.  Wax  occurs  especi- 
ally in  the  external  cell-walls  or  on  the  surface  of  those  parts  of 
plants  which  have  a  cuticularizcd  epidermis;  the  "bloom"  on 
fruits,  for  example,  is  a  layer  of  wax. 

(6.)  Alkaloids. — Tho  alkaloids  are  regarded  as  waste-products, 
because,  as  the  observations  of  Knop  and  WolIT  show,  th»  demand 
for  combined  nitrogen  cannot  bo  met  by  supplying  tho  plant  witli 
it  in  the  form  of  alkaloids,  though  the  plant  can  avail  itself  of 
such  organic  nitrogenous  substances  as  urea,  uric  aci<l,  leucin, 
tyrosin,  or  glycocoU.  The  alkaloids  are  compound  ammonias  which 
are  not  volatile  at  ordinary  temperatures.  With  regard  to  their 
mode  of  origin  in  the  plant,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  they  are 
derived  more  or  less  directly  from  protoplasm,  or  at  least  from 
proteid,  as  are  urea  and  uric  acid  in  the  animal  body.  But, 
although  these  nitrogenous  waste -products  are  formed  in  tho 
destructive  metabolism  of  plants,  their  formation  is  not  accom- 


0  L  O  G  Y 


53 


panied  by  a  loss  of  nitrogen,  for  they  ai-e  not  excreted,  as  is  tho 
case  in  animals,  but  are  deposited  in  the  cells. 

2.  Excretion. — Of  the  waste -products,  some,  such  as 
oxygen,  water,  and  carbon  dioxide,  are  excreted  in  the 
gaseous  form — the  o.xj-gen  and  the  carbon  dioxide  through 
the  superficial  cell-walls  of  the  plant,  the  -watery  vapour 
through  the  stomata.  Some  of  the  carbon  dioxide  may 
combine  with  earthy  bases  to  form  carbonates,  which  are 
either  retained  in  the  plant  or  excreted  in  solution.  The 
resins  and  ethereal  oils,  as  -well  as  wax,  are  frequently 
excreted.  The  mechani.sm  of  excretion  is  w-idely  different 
in  different  cases.  The  resins  and  ethereal  oils  are  usually 
excreted  by  means  of  special  glandular  organs.  The  gland 
may  be  a  hair  on  the  surface,  and  it  is  then  commonly  the 
terminal  cell  at  the  free  end  which  is  secretory ;  or  it  may 
be  a  group  of  epidermal  cells  between  -n-hich  large  inter- 
cellular spaces  are  formed,  which  serve  as  receptacles  for 
the  excreted  substance;  or  it  may  be  formed  by  the  absorp- 
tion of  the  adjoining  walls  of  a  group  of  cells  belonging 
partly  to  the  epidermis  and  partly  to  the  underlying 
ground-tissue,  a  cavity  being  thus  constructed,  which  con- 
tains the  excreted  substance ;  or  again,  longitudinal  strands 
of  cells  may  become  separated  so  as  to  enclose  an  elongated 
intercellular  space  into  which  they  excrete  (resin-ducts). 
In  many  cases  the  substance  to  be  excreted  may  be  detected 
in  the  glandular  cells ;  not  unfrequently,  however,  and 
always  in  the  case  of  wax,  no  trace  of  it  can  be  discovered 
in  the  cells  themselves ;  it  is  first  to  be  found  in  the  cell- 
walls  between  the  cuticular  and  the  deeper  layers.  The 
actual  excretion  is  usually  effected,  in  the  case  of  super- 
ficial glands,  by  the  rupture  of  the  cuticle  which  is  con- 
tinuous over  the  gland,  and  by  the  consequent  escape  of 
the  contents ;  in  some  cases  the  gland  remains  closed,  and 
any  volatile  substances  (ethereal  oil)  which  may  be  present 
escape  by  evaporation. 

The  excretion  of  the  earthy  carbonates  in  solution  is 
most  commonly  effected  by  means  of  a  -^s-ell-developed 
gland.  Such  a  gland  consists  of  a  group  of  modified 
parenchymatous  cells  in  connexion  with  the  terminatioi 
of  a  fibro -vascular  bundle;  and  one  or  two  openings, 
termed  "water-pores,"  and  somewhat  resembling  stomata, 
are  present  in  the  epidermis  immediately  over  it.  Under 
the  action  of  the  root-pressure  the  gland  excretes  water 
which  holds  the  carbonates  in  solution.  Glands  of  this 
kind  are  present  in  the  leaves  of  various  Saxifragaceous 
and  Crassulaceous  plants.  In  other  cases  these  salts  appear 
to  be  excreted  by  ordinary  epidermal  cells.  In  certain 
Ferns  (various  species  of  Polypodium  and  Aspidivm),  for 
instance,  scales  of  calcium  carbonate  are  found  on  dei)res- 
sions  in  the  surface  of  the  leaves  which  are  situated  imme- 
diately over  the  terminations  of  the  fibro-vascular  bundles. 

It  not  unfrequently  happens  that  plants  excrete  sub-  N«t»rj 
stances  other  than  waste-products,  but  this  has  the  effect  ""'^ 
of  securing  indirect  advantages.  In  tho  great  majority  of  '""'■ 
flowers  there  are  glandular  organs  -which  excrete  a  watery 
fluid  holding  principally  sugar  in  solution ;  these  organs  are 
termed  "nectarics,"and  the  excretion  "nectar."  The  nectary 
has  essentially  the  same  structure  a.s  the  water-gland  de- 
scribed above,  tho  only  important  difference  being  that, 
whereas  tho  gland  is  sunk  in  the  tissue  and  is  covered  by  the 
epidermis,  tho  nectary  has  a  large  free  surface,  so  that  the 
nectar  is  at  once  poured  out  on  to  tho  exterior.  But  there 
is  an  important  functional  difference  between  them,  namely, 
that,  whereas  excretion  by  tho  gland  can  only«takc  pince 
under  the  influence  of  tho  root -pressure,  excretion  by  tho 
nectary  is  independent  of  tho  root -pressure,  for  it  will 
continue  when  the  flower  has  been  removed  from  the  plant. 
Another  instance  of  an  excretion  of  this  kind  is  afforded 
by  the  carnivorous  plants.  The  glands  of  their  leaves 
excrete  a  watery  liquid  which  holds  in  solution  a  peptic 


54 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[VEGETABLK. 


ferment  and  one  or  more  organic  acids.  Tlie  use  of  the 
nectar  is  to  attract  insects,  and  thus  to  ensure  cross- 
fertilization.  The  use  of  the  excretions  of  the  carnivorous 
])lant3  is  to  dissolve  the  organic  matter  (usually  insects) 
which  has  been  deposited  on  the  leaves,  so  as  to  bring 
it  into  a  form  in  which  it  can  be  absorbed. 

Many  of  the  waste-products  are  not  excreted,  but  remain 
in  the  plant.  Thus  the  terpenes  are  indeed  excreted  by 
the  cells  which  line  the  resin-ducts,  but  these  ducts  have 
no  aperture  on  the  surface  of  the  plant.  Similarly  the 
caoutchouc  and  gutta-percha  which  are  contained  in  the 
laticiferous  tissue  of  certain  plants  have  no  means  of  egress. 
This  is  also  true  of  the  tannic  acid,  of  the  calcium  carbonate 
(usually)  and  oxalate,  of  the  alkaloids,  and  of  silica.  These 
substances  are  usually  deposited  in  the  cells.  Calcium 
carbonate  and  oxalate  are  deposited  in  the  form  of  crystals 
either  in  the  cell-\vall  or  in  the  cell-cavity,  and  silica  in 
the  cell-wall.  In  some  cases  calcium  carbonate  is  deposited 
on  cellulose  processes  which  extend  into  the  cell  from  its 
wall,  the  whole  body  being  termed  a  "  cystolith." 

3.  Plastic  Products. — The  principal  non- nitrogenous 
plastic  products  are  the  carbohydrates  and  the  fats  (gly- 
cerides) ;  to  these,  as  suggested  above,  some  of  the  organic 
acids  are  perhaps  to  be  added. 

Of  the  carbohydrates  the  substance  which  most  demands 
attention  is  starch.  Starch  makes  its  appearance  in  the 
form  of  minute  granules  in  chlorophyll-corpuscles  in  which 
constructive  metabolism  is  being  actively  carried  on.  It 
was  thought  that  it  was  the  immediate  product  of  the 
decomposition  and  recombination  of  carbon  dioxide  and 
of  water  in  the  corpuscle  under  the  influence  of  light,  the 
process  being  represented  by  some  such  equation  as  the 
following— 

6CO3  +  5HjO  =  CeHjjOs  -f  60j. 

Increased  knowledge  of  the  conditions  under  which 
starch  makes  its  appearance  in  plants  has,  however,  made 
it  evident  that  this  is  not  the  case.  Starch  may  be  regarded 
as  the  first  visible  product  of  the  constructive  metabolism 
going  on  in  a  chlorophyll-corpuscle,  but  it  is  not  the  first 
non-nitrogenous  substance  formed.  That,  as  has  been 
pointed  out,  is  probably  a  body  allied  to  formic  aldehyde. 
The  starch  is  formed  as  one  of  the  products  of  the  decom- 
position of  the  protoplasm  of  the  corpuscle.  That  this  is 
so  is  made  evident  when  the  formation  of  starch  in  parts 
of  plants  which  are  not  green  and  which  are  not  exposed 
to  light  is  considered.  In  the  cells  of  these  parts  there 
are  certain  small  colourless  protoplasmic  bodies  which  are 
termed  "starch-forming  corpuscles"  or  "leukoplasts,"and  it 
is  by  these  that  the  starch-granules  are  formed.  It  appears 
that  the  starch-granule  is  formed  in  the  first  instance  by 
the  decomposition  of  a  portion  of  the  protoplasm  of  the 
corpuscle,  successive  layers  of  starch  being  deposited  upon 
the  primitive  granule  by  the  decomposition  of  successive 
layers  of  protoplasm.  It  is  in  this  way  that  the  stratified 
structure  of  these  starch-granules  is  produced.  There  is 
no  reason  for  assuming  that  the  process  of  starch-formation 
in  chlorophyll-cotpuscles  is  essentially  diljferent  from  that 
in  leukoplasts  ;  on  the  contrary,  in  view  of  the  close  re- 
lationship of  these  bodies,  the  one  being  convertible  into 
the  other,  there  is  every  reason  for  believing  it  to  be  the 
same.  There  is,  however,  this  functional  difference  between 
chlorophyll-corpuscle  and  leukoplast,  that  in  the  former 
the  synthetic  processes,  i.e.,  the  construction  of  protoplasm, 
begin  with  such  simple  substances  as  carbon  dioxide, 
water,  a^d  mineral  salts,  whereas  in  the  latter  they  begin 
(see  below)  with  tolerably  complex  substances,  such,  for 
example,  as  glucose  and  asparagin.  Starch,  then,  is  the 
immediate  product,  not  of  constructive,  but  of  destructive 
metabolism. 

Various  kinds  of  sugar,  notably  glucose  and  cane-sugar. 


are  also  commonly  to  be  found  in  plants.  Glucose  may 
be  regarded  as  having  been  derived  by  the  action  of  an 
unorganized  ferment  from  one  or  other  of  the  other  carbo- 
hydrates, except  in  certain  plants,  the  Onion  for  example, 
in  which  it  appears  to  be  formed  in  the  chlorophyll-cor- 
puscles in  the  first  instance.  Nothing  is  known  at  present 
as  to  the  mode  of  origin  of  cane-sugar,  which  exists  in 
such  large  quantities  in  certain  plants,  as  the  Beet  and  the 
Sugar-cane. 

With  regard  to  the  fats,  it  is  commonly  assumed  that 
they  are  formed  directly  from  the  carbohydrates,  because 
in  oily  seeds,  for  example,  as  the  starch  which  they  contain 
when  young  diminishes  in  quantity  it  is  replaced  by  fats. 
There  is,  however,  sufficient  evidence  to  prove  that  tha 
fats  are  the  products  of  the  decomposition  of  protoplasm. 
The  disappearance  of  the  starch  in  ripening  oily  seeds  is 
due  to  its  being  used  up  in  the  construction  of  protoplasm, 
as  the  protoplasm  undergoes  decomposition  in  connexion 
with  the  formation  of  fat. 

The  nitrogenous  plastic  products  are  proteids  and  Prot«l 
amides.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  proteids  may 
be  derived  from  protoplasm.  If  the  molecule  of  living 
protoplasm  be  regarded  as  an  extremely  complex  one, 
there  is  no  difficulty  in  inferring  that  proteid  may  be 
one  of  the  products  of  the  decomposition  of  the  proto- 
plasm-molecule. The  amides  may  also  be  products  of  the  Amid 
decomposition  of  protoplasm,  or  they  may  be  formed  from 
proteids  by  the  fermentative  action  of  living  protoplasm  J 

or  by  the  action  of  some  as  yet  undiscovered  unorganized  ' 

ferment,  as  pointed  out  above. 

It  has  been  stated  that  the  plastic  products  are  so  called 
because  they  are  substances  which  can  be  used  in  the  con- 
structive metabolism  of  plants.  But  it  must  not  be  inferred 
that  they  are  so  used  immediately.  The  very  fact  that  it 
is  possible  to  detect  their  presence  in  considerable  quantity 
is  a  proof  that  this  is  not  the  case.  They  are  largely  stored 
up  either  for  the  use  of  the  plant  itself  at  some  future 
time,  or  for  the  benefit  of  the  progeny  of  the  plant.  In 
a  perennial  plant,  for  example,  plastic  products  are  stored 
in  the  persistent  parts  for  the  use  of  the  plant  when  it 
recommences  its  active  growth  ;  they  are  also  stored  up  in 
seeds  and  spores  to  be  used  by  the  young  plant  during  the 
early  stages  of  germination.  Plastic  products  thus  stored 
lip  are  termed  "reserve  materials,"  and  the  organs  in  which 
they  are  deposited  are  termed  "depositories  for  reserve 
materials."  The  non-nitrogenous  reserve  materials  are  Nou 
stored  up  in  the  form  of  carbohydrates  or  of  fats.  The  ""i'™- 
starch  which  is  formed  in  the  green  parts  of  the  plant  ^""^ 
(which  is,  be  it  observed,  a  temporary  reserve  material)  ^^t». 
is  converted  into  a  soluble  substance,  probably  glucose,  rials, 
and  is  conveyed  in  solution  to  the  depository ;  and  from 
it,  directly  or  indirectly,  the  non -nitrogenous  reserve 
materials  are  formed.  The  reserve  carbohydrates  are 
stored  up  either  in  the  insoluble  or  the  soluble  form.  In 
the  former  case  they  are  deposited  as  starch-granules,  or  as 
cellulose  (as  in  the  endosperm  of  the  Date)  in  thick  cell- 
walls  ;  in  the  latter  they  exist  as  various  forms  of  sugar 
in  solution  in  the  cell-sap.  The  starch-granules  are  fornicJ 
in  these  depositories  by  the  leukoplasts.  From  the  soluble 
non-nitrogenous  substance,  probably  glucose,  together  with 
nitrogenous  substances  conveyed  to  the  cells,  the  leuko- 
plasts construct  protoplasm ;  and  it  is  as  the  result  of  the 
decomposition  of  this  protoplasm  in  a  certain  way  that 
starch  is  formed.  This  is  true  also  of  the  reserve  cellu- 
lose. From  the  plastic  materials,  both  nitrogenous  and 
non -nitrogenous,  which  are  supplied  to  the  cells  proto- 
plasm is  constructed,  and  the  external  layers  of  proto- 
plasm undergo  decomposition  in  such  a  way  that  cellulose 
is  formed  and  deposited  in  successive  layers  upon  the 
internal  surface  of  the  cell -wall.     The  various  kinds  of 


/tGETABLE.] 


PHYSIOLOGY 


5G 


sugar  (cane-sugar  in  the  Beet  root,  glucose  in  the  Onion, 
inulin  in  the  Dahlia  root,  mannite  in  the  unripe  fruits  of 
the  Olive  and  in  some  Agarics,  trehalose  in  many  Agarics) 
are  probably  formed  more  or  less  directly  from  the  glucose 
conveyed  from  other  parts  to  the  depository  in  each  case. 
The  fats  occur  as  reserve  materials  characteristically  in 
seeds  and  sometimes  in  fruits;  they  are  not  stored  up  in  any 
considerable  quantity  in  any  other  kind  of  depository.  They 
too  are  formed  by  the  decomposition  of  protoplasm  which 
has  been  constructed  from  plastic  materials,  nitrogenous  and 
.non-nitrogenous,  which  have  been  conveyed  to  the  cells. 

The  nitrogenous  reserve  materials  are  stored  either  in 
aolutiou  or  as  solid  granules.  In  the  formei'  case  they 
are  amides,  such  as  asparagin  and  glutamin,  leucin  and 
tyrosin,  and  are  held  in  solution  in  the  cell-sap ;  they  are 
present  characteristically  in  roots  and  tubers,  but  they  have 
also  been  found,  though'  in  small  quantity,  in  seeds.  In 
the  latter  .case  these  materials  are  stored  in  the  form  of 
proteids,  chiefly  globulins  and  peptones,  and  the  granules 
in  which  they  are  deposited  are  termed  "aleurone  grains." 
The  aleurone  grain  may  consist  simply  of  an  amorphous 
mass  of  proteid,  or  a  portion  of  the  proteid  may  have 
crystallized  out  so  as  to  form  a  crystalloid  ;  in  most  cases 
the  grain  contains  a  small  mass  of  mineral  matter  which 
consists,  according  to  Pfeffer,  of  double  phosphate  of  lime 
and  magnesia.  Aleurone  grains  occur  characteristically  in 
seeds,  and  they  are  especially  well  developed  in  oily  seeds. 
When  once  deposited,  the  reserve  materials  suffer  no 
ue  of  further  change,  or  at  most  the  proteids  may  slowly  undergo 
■^f  some  alteration  (globulin  being  convorted  into  albuminate), 
^™  so  long  as  the  organ  in  which  they  are  deposited  remains 
^1,.  in  an  inactive  condition.  But  when  the  external  conditions 
■become  favourable  the  quiescent  organ  resumes  its  active 
ilife — in  a  word,  it  germinates — and  the  reserve  materials 
•  which  it  contains  then  undergo  chemical  changes  of  such  a 
nature  as  to  convert  them  into  substances  which  can  readily 
travel  to  the  seat  of  growth  and  can  be  used  as  plastic 
material  by  the  growing  cells.  lu  a  germinating  seed,  for 
instance,  as  the  embryo  grows  the  reserve  materials  of  the 
seed  diminish  in  quantity  ;  they  are  evidently  conveyed  to 
the  seedling,  and  are  used  by  it  in  the  construction  of  new 
protoplasm.  Beginning  with  the  non-nitrogenous  reserve 
materials,  the  starch  in  starchy  seeds  and  the  cellulose  in 
such  seeds  as  the  Date  are  converted  into  sugar ;  this  is 
proved  by 'the  detection  of  sugar  as  well  in  the  seed  as 
in  the  seedling,  and  by  the  detection  in  the  seed  of  an 
unorganized  ferment  which  possesses  the  property  of  con- 
certing starch  into  sugar.  In  oily  seeds  the  fats  are 
replaced  by  starch,  formed  through  the  intermediation  of 
■protoplasm,  and  the  starch  so  formed  is  converted  into 
sugar.  With  regard  to  the  reserve  proteids,  thoy  arc 
<;onvorted  into  amides,  for  it  has  been  ascertained  that, 
fts  they  diminish  in  quantity,  thn  ftaudw^  &nd  notably 
asparagin,  increase. 

The  effect  of  tlje  s^bsorption  of  these  plastic  substances 
by  the  embryo  is  that  the  cell-sap  of  its  cells  becomes 
.charged  with  them,  for  the  supply  is  more  rapid  than  the 
consumption  in  the  formation  of  protoplasm.  U  the  seed- 
ling is  growing  under  favourable  conditions  these  sub- 
stances gradually  diminish  in  quantity.  Some  light  has 
been  thrown  upon  the  nature  of  these  conditions  by  the 
•researches  of  Pfeffer.''  He  found  that  Lupin  seedlings 
grown  in  the  dark  contained  a  very  large  quantity  of 
fwparagin'so  long  as  they  continued  to  live,  but  that  if  they 
were  exposed  to  light  the  asparagin  gi'adually  diminished. 
But  .he  ascertaintid  further  that  mere  exposure  to  light  is 
not  the  cause  of  this,  since  the  asparagin  did  not  diminish 
in  seedlings  exposed  to  light  in  an  atmosphere  which  con- 
fined no  carbon  dioxide.  The  disappearance  of  the 
•isparagin  depended,  therefore,  upon  conditions  which  were 


essential  to  i-ne  formation  of  non-r.itrogenous  organic  sub- 
stance by  the  seedlings.  Now  the  Lupin  seed  is  one 
which  is  particularly  rich  in  nitrogenous  reserve  matericls, 
the  quantity  of  non-nitrogenous  reserve  materials  being 
relatively  small.  The  accumulation  of  the  asparagin  in 
the  seedlings  grown  in  the  dark  is  then  to  be  ascilbed  to 
the  absence  of  an  adequate  supply  of  non- nitrogenous 
substance  with  which  it  could  combine  to  form  proteid. 
When  the  seedlings  were  exposed  to  light  this  supply  was 
forthcomirig,  and  then  the  asoaragin  disappeared 

Supply  of  Encr^j. 

It  is  eviJcnt  that  the  various  cliemical  processes  whjch.piaka  np 
the  metabolism  of  plants  involve  an  expenditure  of  energy ;  Ijence 
the  maintenance  of  the  life  of  the  piant  is  dependent  upoji  a  supply 
of  eneigy. 

In  the  case  of  animals  the  food  affords  the  principal  supply  of 
energy.  It  consists  for  the  most  part  of  complex  organic  substances 
which  represent  a  considerable  amount  of  potential  energy,  aotl 
when  these  substances  are  decomposed  in  the  body  the  potential 
eneigy  appears  in  the  kinetic  form.  This  holds  good  also  with 
reference  to  plants  which  are  destitute  of  chloropJiyll,  for  thcii 
food  necessarily  includes,  like  that  of  animals,  complex  organic 
substances.  But  with  plants  which  possess  chlorophyll  the  case 
is  entirely  different.  Their  food  consists  of  inorganic  substances 
which  do  not  represent  any  considerable  amount  of  potential  energy  ; 
from  these  simple  substances  green  plants  build  up  complex  organic 
substances  which  do  represent  a  considerable  amount  of  potential 
energy  ;  it  is  evident,  therefore,  that  green  plants  must  be  largely 
supplied  from  without  with  kinetic  energy  in  some  form  or  other. 
It  has  been  already  mentioned  that  the  metabolic  processes  of  plants 
are  materially  affected  by  external  conditions,  especially  by  tlie  pre 
sence  or  absence  of  light,  and  by  variations  in  the  temperature 
of  the  surrounding  medium.  A  somewhat  elevated  temperature  is 
essential  to  the  active  life  of  all  plants,  but  light  is  essential  only  to 
the  life  of  those  which  contain  chlorophyll.  This  naturally  suggests 
that  tlio  energy  requisite  for  the  maintenance  of  the  life  of  plants 
is  obtained  by  them  in  the  form  either  of  light  or  of  heat 

Lujhl.— In  discussing  the  constructive  metabolism  of  green  plants  Light  a 
it  was  pointed  out  that  such  can  only  assimilate  their  food— that  source  V 
is,  can  only  construct  protoplasm  from  it — when  exposed  to  light,  plant-- 
whereas  plants  which  do  not  possess  chlorophyll  can  assimuate  enargy 
their  food  in  the  absence  of  light.  It  is  true  that  a  green  seedling 
can  live  for  a  time  in  continuous  darkness  and  increase  in  light,' 
but  it  does  so,  not  by  assimilating  its  food,  but  at  the  expense  of 
the  organic  reserve  materials  which  may  be  present  in  it.  The 
fact  of  the  dependence  of  green. plants  upon  exposure  to  light  sug- 
ge''.T  that  the  energy  necessary  for  the  processes  of  their  constructive 
nibtabolisra  is  obtained  in.the  form  of  light,  and  tnal  their  cliloro- 
phyll  enables  them  to  avail  themselves  of  this  form  of  kinetic 
energy.  The  function  of  chlorophyll  has  been  made  clear  by  the 
researches  of  Timiria.seff  and  of  Engclmaun.  They  have  shown  that 
tho  evolution  of  oxygen  by  a  plant  containing  chlorophyll,  which 
is  the  expression  of  the  first  stages  of  constructive  metabolism,  is 
most  active  when  tho  plant  is  exposed  to  those  rays  of  the  solai 
spectrum  which  correspond  to  the  absorption-bands  of  the  chloro- 
pnyll •  spectrum  ;  tho  more  conspicuous  the  absorption-band,  the 
greater  is  the  dcgrco  of  activity,  so  that  the  evolution  of  oxygon  is 
most  considerable  in  the  rays  botv;een  the  lines  B  and  C  of  the 
solar  spectrum,  at  the  junction  of  tho  red  and  tho  orange,  which 
correspond  to  the  absorption-band  I  in  the  chlorophyll-spectrum. 
It  is,  th'jn,  in  consequence  of  this  absorption  by  the  chlorophyll 
that  tho  kinetic  energy  of  the  solar  rays  is  made  available  for  the 
work  of  constructive  metabolism  in  the  plant.  The  whole  of  the 
kinetic  energy  absorbed  by  tho  chlorophyll  is  not  converted  into 
potential  energy;  still  tho  chloi-oj)liyll-eorpi;-  '  -  •  ■  ;  -^  to  bo  a 
very  perfect  machino  in  this  respect,  for,  acr.  liiviftsclTs 

calculations,  it  converts  into  tho  potential  k-.:  ,i  .is  10  pcT 

cent,  of  the  absorbed  energy.  JnasUJUcb  as  light  oxgiciscs  so  great 
an  influence  upon  the  constructive  metabolism  of  gi^on  pUnta,  it 
may  be  inferred  that  it  must  indirectly  pft'vct  the  nbawpUon  ol_ 
food-inateriftls  by  tho  roots,  liudoljih  Weber  has,  in  fact,  ascer^ 
taincd  that  the  greatest  absorption  of  tho  essential  ush-couBtituonls 
takes  place  when  tho  plant  is  kept  expuwd  to  those  rays  of  light 
which  arc  most  elTicacious  in  promoting  Us  constructive  metabolism 

The  effect  of  light  upon  the  destructive  metabolism  of  plants 
appears  to  bo  unimiKjrtant.  This  subject  has  beeji  investigated  bj 
nioaus  of  observations  upon  tho  respiration  of  plants  ;  ana  such  ■ 
method  is  calculated  to  niTord  tho  necessary  information,  inasmuch 
as  the  activity  of  respiration  may  bo  taken  as  a  measure  of  the 
activity  of  destructive  metabolism. 

It  has  been  generally  st-ited  tJiat  chlorophyll  is  not  formed  in 
the  aliscnce  of  light.  There  arc,  nevertheless,  certain  coses  in  v.'hich 
its  formation  in  complete  darkness  bos  be'\D  observed,  provide'j 


PHYSIOLOGY 


56 

that  the  temperature  has  been  sufficiently  high,  namely  in  the 
cotyledons  of  some  Conifers  and  in  the  leaves  of  Ferns  The 
colouring  matter  etiolin  is  formed  in  the  corpusc  es  in  darkness 
but  the  conversion  of  this  into  chlorophyl  can  only  take  Place  a 
rrule,  under  the  influence  of  light,  fhe  fo^-'l"" 'f^'>^°  °P^',> ! 
will  take  place  in  light  of  very  low  intensity,  but,  as  Wiesner  s 
^erim'nts  show,  there  is  a  lower  limit  of  intensity  below  which 
uXt  is  inactive.  With  regard  to  the  relative  efficacy  of  the  diffe  - 
ent  rays  of  the  spectrun,  in  promoting  the  formation  of  chlorophyll, 
it  an^ara  from  Wiesners.  researches  that  all  the  rays  between 
Fraun^o^r-s  iSes  B  and  H  promote  it  in  different  degrees,  and 
farther,  n  confirmation  of  older  observations,  that  seedlings  turn 
grZn  iore  rapidly  in  the  yellow  than  m  any  other  part  of  the 
fnectrum.  This  last  statement  is  true  only  for  light  of  moderate 
Euy  "hen  the  light  is  very  intense  the  ormation  of  chlorophyll 
t^kes  place  more  rapidly  in  blue  than  in  yellow  light  The  reason 
rf  this'^  s  thaTin  intLse^ight  chlorophyll  undergoes  decomposition 
or  at  least  chemical  alteration  of  tlie  nature  of  oxidation,  which 
Kocs  on  most  actively  in  yellow  light.  vi  «  )-i,o  ^,^1^ 

IIeat.-?\s,nts  behave  in  relation  to  temperature  like  the  cold- 
blooded  animals.  When  they  are  maintained  at  a  low  temperatute 
they  cease  to  exhibit  any  signs  of  Ufe.  The  meaning  of  this  is  that 
at  a^ow  temperature  the  activity  of  the  metabolic  P^cesses  is  so 
reduced  that  they  appear  to  be  altogether  arrested.  But  the  im- 
portance of  a  moderately  high  temperature  for  the  ^maintenance  of 
the  active  life  of  the  plant  is  not,  as  might  be  supposed  that  it 
affords  a  continuous  supply  of  energy  to  be  converted  into  work  , 
it  is  rather  that  it  determines  the  initiation  of  chemical  processes 
which  are  carried  on  by  means  of  energy  obtained  from  other 
sources.  Hence  the  supply  of  energy  m  the  form  of  heat  is  rela- 
tively small  as  compared,  on  the  one  hand,  with  the  supply  ol 
potential  energy  afforded  by  their  food  to  the  p  ants  which  do  not 
Assess  chlorophyll,  and,  on  the  other  hand  with  the  supply  ob- 
Uined  in  the  f^rm  of  li^ht  by  plants  which  do  possess  chlorophjil 
It  is  not  possible  within  the  limita  of  this  article  to  enterJuUy 


[VEGETABLT 


into  the  refations  existing  between  plant- life  and  temperature 
The  following  statements  will  at  least  indicate  their  general  nature. 
In  the  first  place,  the  tolerance  of  extreme  temperatures  is  different 
for  different  plants,  as  determined  in  the  case  of  any  pa>-ticular 
organ,  such  as  the  seeds  for  instance.     Secondly,  for  each  of  the 
processes  which  can  be  studied  _  separately,  ^"ch  as  germination 
CTOwth,  respiration,  the  formation  of  chlorophyll,  the  action  ol 
finorganized  fermenta,  the  evolution  of  oxygen  by  green  plants  in 
Ut^ht    &c.,  there  are  three  cardinal  points  of  temperature  to  be 
nSted-the  viinimmn  or  zero  point,  at  which  the  performance  ot 
the  process  is  just  possible  ;  the  optimum  point,  at  which  it  is 
carried  on  with  the  greatest  activity ;  the  maximum  point  at  which 
it  is  arrested.     But  these  different  phenomena  do  not  all  stand  in 
precisely  the  same  relation  to  temperature,--that  is,  the  cardina 
^ints  for  the  exhibition  of  any  two  or  more  of  these  phenomena  by 
one  and  the  same  plant  do  not  necessarily  coincide.     Thirdly,  the 
larger  the  proportion  of  water  in  an  organ,  the  more  Uable  it  is  to 
be  injured  by  exposure  to  extreme  temperatures. 
Expenditure  of  Energy. 
We  have  now  to  ascertain  what  becomes  of  energy  supplied  to 
the  plant.     The  matter  may  be  briefly  stated  thus  :  a  portion  of  it 
IS  stored  up  in  the  plant  in  the  form  of  potential  energy  ;  the  re- 
mainder is  lost  to  tfie  plant,  being  either  spent  in  the  performance 
of  mechanical  work  in  connexion  with  growth  or  movement,  or 
given  off,  most  generally  in  the  form  of  heat,  occasionaUy  in  the 
form  of  li»ht,  anS  possibly  in  the  form  of  electricity.     The  stonng- 
up  of  ene?gy  iu  the  potential  form  may  be  termed  thej' accumula- 
tion of  energy,"  the  loss  as  the  "  dissipation  of  energy.  . 

1.  AccvJulation  of  Energy.-lhe  accumulation  of  energy  is  the 
necessary  accompaniment  of  constructive  metabolism  ;  the  forma- 
tion of  more  and  mora  complex  orgsnic  substances  involves  the 
conversion  of  kinetic  into  potential  energy.  By  taking  into  con- 
sideration the  amount  of  organic  substance  formed  by  a  plant  Irom 
its  first  development  to  its  death,  it  is  nossible  to  arrive  at  some 
idea  of  the  Rraount  of  kinetic  energy  wtich  the  plant  has  stored 
up  in  the  potential  form.  For  tho  heat  which  is  given  out  by 
burning  the  organic  substance  is  but  the  conversion  mto  kinet  c 
energy  of  the  potential  energy  stored  up  in  the  substance ;  it  is  but 
the  feappearance  of  the  kinetic  energy  which  was  used  u:  ^-.oduc- 
ing  the  substance.  The  heat,  for  instance,  wnich  is  given  out  by 
burning  wood  or  coal  represents  the  kinetic  energy  derived  prin- 
cipally from  the  sun's  rays,  by  which  were  effected  the  proce^es 
of^^constructive  metabolism  of  which  the  wood  or  the  coal  was  the 
product.  The  amount  of  energy  thus  stored  up  by  plants  in  the 
^tential  form  is  very  large,  because  they  produce  relate  ely  large 
quantities  of  organic  substance.  „,„„„„ 

2.  Dissipation  of  Energy.-The  expenditure  of  energy  in  con- 
nexion  with  growth  and  movement,  and  with  the  evolution  of 
heat,  light,  and  electricity,  is  dependent  upon  destructive  meta- 
bolism, for  the  conditions  which  are  essential  to  destructive  meta- 
boUsm  are  also  those  which  are  essentii^'  to  the  exhibition  of  these 


phenomena.  Taking  growth,  for  cxample-that  is  conrmiious 
chance  of  form  accompanied  usually  by  increase  in  bulk-it  appears 
that  in  an  aerobiotic  plant  it  is  dependent  upon  the  following  ex- 
ternal conditions,  namely,  a  supply  of  free  oxygen  and  an  adequate 
temperature,  conditions  which  are  precisely  those  upon  which  the 
destructive  metabolic  processes  of  such  a  plant  also  depend.  Ibis 
is  true  in  such  plants  of  the  other  above.uientioned  phenomena  also. 
Anaerobiotic  plants  can  grow  when  the  conditions  are  such  that 
they  can  induce  active  fermentation,— that  is,  when  their  desti-uc- 
tive  metabolism  is  active.  After  what  has  been  said  in  the  section  on 
the  "  Nervous  System  "  above  (p.  38  sq.)  about  animal  movement  it 
is  hardly  necessary  to  prove  that  the  movements  of  plants,  whicii 
are  of  essentially  the  same  nature  as  those  of  animals,  depend  upon, 
destructive  metabolism  and  involve  a  dissipation  of  energy. 

An  evolution  of  energy  in  the  form  of  heat  is  the  mseparabler 
result  of  destructive  metabolism.  With  regard  to  planta  it  may 
be  stated  generally  that  the  evolution  of  heat  is  not  sufficiently 
active  to  raise  the  temperature  of  the  plant-body  above  that  of  the 
surrounding  medium,  it  being  remembered  that  plants  are  coiistantly 
losing  heat,  principally  by  radiation  and  in  connexion  with  tran- 
spiration. In  organs,  however,  in  which  destructive  metabolism, 
is  very  active  it  is  easy  to  detect  a  rise  of  temperature,  especially 
when  a  large  number  of  them  are  collected  together.  A  good  instance 
of  this  is  afforded  by  germinating  seeds;  for  example,  a  rise  ot 
temperature  is  a  familiar  fact  in  the  process  of  the  malting  of  Barley. 
It  can  also  be  readily  observed  in  the  case  of  opening  flowers  ii« 
dense  inflorescences  ;  Warming  observed,  for  example,  that,  at  the 
time  of  the  opening  of  the  flowere,  the  inflorescence  of  an  Aroid 
(PhilocUndrm,  bipinnatifdum)  attained  a  temperature  of  18  -5  U 
above  that  of  the  air.  .  .  .  l      v 

The  evolution  of  light  by  plants  is  a  phenomenon  which  has  been 
known  from  the  times  of  Aristotle  and  of  Pliny,  and  is  commonly 
spoken  of  as  "phosphorescence."  All  the  well-authenticated  in- 
stances of  luminosity  are  confined  to  the  Fungi,  to  various  Agarics, 
and  to  Schizomvcetes  {Sacteria).  The  so-called  "  phosphorescence 
of  decaying  wood  is  due  to  the  presence  of  the  mycelium  of  Agarmts 
melleJ{Bhizomorp}m),  and  that  of  putrefying  meat  and  vegetables 
to  micrococci.  See  Phosphokescence.  The  evolution  of  light  is 
essentially  dependent  upon  the  life  of  the  organism,  and  further,, 
it  is  dependent  upon  the  destructive  metabolism  ;  for  it  ceases  when 
the  organism  is  killed  (as  by  dipping  it  into  hot  water)  or  deprived 
of  its  supply  of  free  oxygen,  which  la  essential  to  the  metabolic 

^"^lu  vTew  of  the  changes,  both  chemical  and  physical,  which  are 
going  on  with  greater  or  less  activity  in  the  vanous  parte  of  a  liv- 
ing plant  it  has  not  been  unnaturally  inferred  that  the  electrica 
equilibrium  is  being  constantly  disturbed,  and  that  differences  oS 
electrical  potential  energy  may  exist  in  differetit  Parts.  Many 
experimenters  have  investigated  this  subject  and  such  differences 
have  been  apparently  observed.  1 1  is  impossible  to  enter  here  into 
a  detailed  consideration  of  the  resulta  obtained  ;  it  may  suffice  to 
state  that  in  the  majority  of  cases  the  electrical  ourrenta  detecte<t 
do  not  indicate  a  dissipation  of  the  energy  of  the  plant,  but  are  due 
to  physical  causes,  and  in  some  cases  even  to  the  effect  upon  tlie 
or^nism  of  the  apparatus  employed  for  the  purpose  of  detecting 
them.  It  has  been  cleariy  made  out  in  certain  instances  that  the 
currents  persist  in  organs  which  have  been  suddenly  killed  in  such, 
a  way  as  not  to  destroy  their  gross  organization. 

There  is,  however,  one  instance  m  which  an  electncal  current 
has  been  detected  which  seems  to  be  connected  "ith  the  destructi%^ 
metabolism  of  the  plant.  Burdon-Sanderson  and  Munk  have  boh 
observed  that,  when  the  two  electrodes  are  p  aced  upon  a  mobile 
U^loiDionmi  musciputa  (Venus's  Fly-trap)  when  at  rest,  a  certam 
electrical  current  is  indicated  by  the  galvanometer.  When  the  1  af 
is  stimulated,  whether  the  stimulation  be  or  be  not  followed  by  » 
movement,  the  direction  of  the  observed  cunent  is  suddenly  re- 
versed. This  change  in  the  direction  of  the  current-or  '  negatne 
variation,"  as  it  is  termed-is,  according  to  Burdon-Sanderson,  the 
■•  visible  sign  of  an  unknown  molecular  process,"  which  he  consider, 
to  be  "an Explosive  molecular  change,"  of  the  same  nature  as  the 
negative  variation  which  foUows  upon  the  stimulation  of  the  muscles. 

and  nerves  of  animals.  ,  .    ,  .^  ,         n    r  .  *v«- 

In  concluding  this  part  of  the  subject  it  may  be  well,  for  the 

sake  of  clearness,  to  draw  up  an  account  of  the  income  and  expendi- 

*"ln'the  ^cise  of  a  plant  possessing  chlorophyll  the  income  of  matter 
consists  of  the  fooi  (salts,  water,  carbon  dioxide,  free  oxygen)  and 
the  income  of  energy  of  kinetic  energy  in  the  form  of  hght  and 
heat  the  former  being  the  more  important  of  the  two  Items,  ine 
ereat  buIkTthe  fooS  absorbed  is  converted  into  organic  matter, 
f^d  is  fbr  the  most  part  retained  by  the  plant  in  the  form  of  organ- 
Led  "t!?>ctures,  of  reserve  materials,  and  "f  -aste-prod«c  s  wh.A 
are  not  excreted  ;  but  a  certain  proportion  of  it  is  lost  in  the  lorm. 
of  the  carbon  dioxide  and  water  exhaled  in  respiration  of  oxyge^ 
exhaled  by  green  parte  in  sunlight,  and  of  excreted  organic  or 
norganic  mafter.  ^Besides  these  items  of  loss  there  are  ye  to  her^ 
All  plants  lose  a  certain  amount  of  matter  in  connexion  with  repro- 


rEOETABLKTp 


PHYSIOLOGY 


57 


duction,  for  all  plants  tliiovv  olT  in  the  course  of  their  lives  certain 
'lortions  of  their'stiucture  in  tlie  form  of  seeds,  spores,  anthcrozoiUs, 
xc.    Again,  plants  which  pcraist  for  more  tlian  one  period  of  gi-owth 

ose  matter  by  tlie  falling  oil'  of  certain  of  their  organs  and  of  por- 
•ions  of  (heir  structure,— for  example,  by  the  falling  of  the  leaves 

11  autumn,  and  by  the  shedding  of  bark,  fruits,  kc.  With  reference 
to  the  expenditure  of  energy,  a  large  proportion  of  the  income  of 
energy  remains  stored  up  in  the  potential  form  in  the  organic  matter 
wliicii  the  plant  accumulates.  A  dissipation  of  energy  as  heat  and 
•n  connexion  with  growth  is  common  to  all  plants  :  in  some  there 
is  dissipation  of  energy  in  the  form  of  motion,  in  some  m  the  form 
of  light,  in  some,  probably,  in  the  form  of  electricity.  A  loss  of 
energy — potential  energy — occurs  also  when  the  plant  loses  organic 
matter  in  any  of  the  ways  mentioned  above.  These  various  items 
may  be  tabulated  under  the  two  heads  of  •'  income  "  and  "  expendi- 
ture." The  water  lost  in  transpiration  is  not  considered,  for  it 
simi'Iy  tmverses  the  pl.aiit ;  only  that  ainouut  of  water  is  considered 
which  may  be  assumed  to  enter  into  the  processes  of  constructive 
metabolism  or  to  be  produced  in  the  processes  of  destructive 
metabolism. 

Flcnt  possessing  Chlorophyll 


Income. 
Halter.  Food— 

Inorganic  salts. 
Carbon  dioxide. 
TVater 
Free  oxjgen 


Koergy. 

Rays  of  light  absorbed  by  chloro 

Heat. 


Expenditure. 
Hatter. 

Organic  substance  formed. 
Carbon  dioxide )  evolved  in  respir- 
Water  )     at  ion. 

Free  oxygen,  evolved  in  light. 
Excreted   substances,  organic  or 

inorganic. 
Reproduction  (spores,  seeds,  &c.). 
Otlier  losses  (leaves,  fi-uits,  barl(, 

&c). 
Eixtrgy. 

Constructive  metabolism. 
Growth.  Movement(insnmecases5? 
Heat.   Light.  Electricity  (in  some 

cases). 
Potential   energy  (when    organic 

matter  is  excreted  or  thrown  oil). 

Bttion'-.e  in  favour  of  Plant. 

Matter. —  Organic  substance  (including 
tissues,  reserve  materials,  and  unex- 
crcted  waste-products). 

Energy. — Potential  energy,  represented 
by  tlie  accumulated  organic  sub- 
stance. 


Plant  italltvtt  of  Chlorophyll. 


Expenditure. 
Same  as  above,  except  that  no  free 
oxygen  is  given  olf. 


Salana  in  favour  of  Plant. 
Same  Items  as  abora  ^ 


Income. 
iSatter.  Food- 
Inorganic  salta 
Organic  substances. 
Water 

Free  oxygen  (in  most  cases). 
Energy. 

Potential  energy  of  organic  food. 
Heat. 

^fovcnutlt  of  Plants. 

It  has  been  pointed  out  above  that  movement,  including  in  the 
conception  the  slow  movement  of  growth,  is  an  item  in  the  ex- 
penditure of  energy  by  the  plant  The  phenomena  connected  with 
movement  are  of  such  physiological  importance  that  it  ■will  be  well 
to  consider  them  rather  fully. 

In  dealing  with  this  large  subject  attention  will  be  directed  for 
the  present  simply  to  the  external  phenomena,  leaying  the  internal 
causes  and  raechanisms  till  subsequently,  and  those  presented  by 
growing  organs  mil  be  taken  first. 

1.  Orowlh. — In  commencing  tlie  study  of  growth  it  ia  important 
to  have  a  perfectly  clear  idea  of  what  Ine  word  means.  It  means 
the  continual  change  in  form  of  the  body  of  the  plant,  or  of  any 
organ  of  it,  the  change  being  frequently  accompanied  by  increase 
in  tmlk,  though  this  is  not  necessarily  the  case.  For  tho  purposes 
of  this  article  it  will  be  convenient  to  use  "growth  "  as  meaning, 
unless  expressly  stated  otherwise,  growth  in  length,  that  is,  tho 
eh'iigation  of  tho  organ  along  the  line  joining  its  base  and  its  apex. 
The  conditions  upon  which  growth  is  dependent  aro— (1)  a  supply 
of  plastic  materi.il  for  tho  formation  of  now  protoplasm  ;  (2)  favour- 
ab'«  external  conditions,  especially  an  adequate  temperature  ;  (3)  a 
sujiply  of  free  oxygon  in  tno  case  of  acrooiotic  plants,  or,  in  tho 
ca.'e  of  anaeiobiolic  plants,  of  fermentable  substance  ;  (4)  a  supply 
of  water  to  maintain  the  tiirgidity  of  tho  cells.  Any  variation  in 
thjse  essential  conditions  will  lead  to  a  variation  in  the  rate  of 
gl»wth.  The  capacity  for  growth  is  limited,  as  a  rule,  to  a  certain 
period  of  tho  life  of  an  organ  and  of  its  constituent  cells  ;  when  this 
period  is  j)ast  growth  ceases,  however  favourable  tho  external  con- 
citions  may  continue  to  bo. 

The  rate  of  growth  of  an  organ  ia  not  uniform.  At  firet  tho  organ 
grows  slowly,  then  more  and  more  rapidly,  until  a  maximum 
rapidity  is  reached,  and  then  tho  rate  diminishes  until  growth 
ceases  alto^ther.  This  cycle  of  spontaneous  variation  in  the  rate 
of  growth  13  known  as  tho  "grand  period  of  growth."  It  can  bo 
conveniently  studied  by  marking  on  the  growing  point  of  an  organ 
a  series  of  transverse  zones  of  known  length,  and  observing  their 
Tfiative  elongation  in  a  given  time.     It  will  bo  found  that  tho 


youngest  (nearest  the  apex)  have  elongated  slightly,  that  the  elon- 
gation is  gieater  the  farther  each  soccessivc  tov  is  from  the  apex, 
until  a  zone  of  maximum  elongation  is  reached  ,  '"'e  elongation  ol 
the  zoiies  lying  behind  this  will  be  found  to  be  less  and  less,  until 
at  last  zones  will  be  found  which  have  not  elongated  at  all.  In 
addition  to  the  variations  in  the  rate  of  growth  in  length  of  an 
organ  which  make  up  its  grand  period  it  is  found,  if  its  giowth  be 
watched  from  hour  to  hour,  or  at  even  shorter  intervals,  that  it 
presents  irregular  variations,  which  are  likewise  to  be  regarded  as 
spontaneous.  Variations  in  the  rate  of  giowlh  may  be  induced 
by  variations  in  the  external  conditions,  esiiecially  by  variations  of 
temperature  and  of  illumination.  It  will  be  of  interest  to  inquire 
briefly  into  these  relations  between  growth  and  tempei-ature  and 
giowth  and  light. 

Inasmuch  as  the  decompositions  which  determine  tiie  evolution 
of  energy  in  the  plant  are  dependent  upon  temperature,  their 
activity  being  promoted  by  a  rise  of  temperature  within  certain 
limits,  it  will  be  readily  understood  that  growth,  which  is  one  ex- 
pression of  the  evolution  of  energy,  should  likewise  be  affected  by 
variations  in  temperature.  It  has  been  found,  in  fact,  that  the 
growth  of  any  given  plant  will  only  take  place  within  certain  limits 
of  temperature,  a  lowest  or  minimum  temperature  on  the  one 
hand  and  a  highest  or  maximum  temperature  on  the  otlier  ;  and 
further,  that  between  these  two  points  there  is  one,  the  optimum 
temperature,  at  which  the  rate  of  growth  is  most  rapid.  Growth 
is  more  rapid  at  each  degi'ee  as  the  temperature  rises  from  the 
minimum  to  the  optimum  point ;  it  is  less  rapid  at  each  degree  as 
the  temperature  continues  to  rise  from  the  optimum  to  the  maxi- 
mum point ;  and  conversely,  growth  is  more  rapid  at  each  degree 
as  the  temperature  falls  from  the  maximum  to  the  optimum,  and 
less  rapid  at  iach  degree  as  thetemperature  fuither  falls  from  the 
optimum  to  the  minimum.  This  dependence  of  giowth  en  temper- 
ature, and  this  relation  between  diliereut  degrees  of  temperature 
and  different  rates  of  gi'ow  th,  may  be  conveniently  spoken  of  as 
tho  "tonic  influence"  of  temperature.  The  mere  variation  in 
temperature  as  such  does  not  appear,  as  a  rule,  to  affect  the  rate  of 
growth.  Roots  exposed  to  rapid  ai  d  considerable  variations  of 
temperature  for  some  time  are  found  by  Pedcrsen  to  have  grown 
to  about  the  same  extent  as  similar  roots  which  had  been  glowing 
for  the  same  time  at  the  mean  temperature.  The  only  case  in 
which  it  appears  that  variation  in  temperature  produces  a  distinct 
effect  is  afforded  by  Pfefier's  observations  upon  the  opening  and 
closing  of  flowers.  He  found  that  a  rise  of  temperature  caused  the 
flowers  to  open  and  a  fall  to  close,  the  opening  or  closing  being  an 
expression  of  the  accelerated  growth  in  length  of  the  organ  as  a 
whole.  This  effect  of  variation  of  temperature  is  distiug'-'shed  as 
the  "  stimulating'"  effect. 

In  considering  the  relation  of  light  to  gi'owtn  we  have  princi-  Grow. 
pally  to  consider  its  influence  as  being  an  essential  normal  condition  a?'*' 
of  growth,  its  "  tonic  "  influence, — that  is,  it  is  a  question  whether  or  ^^  ' 
not  light  exercises  any  influence  which  can  be  regarded  as  "stimu-  • 
latin""  on  the  rate  of  giowth.  Speaking  generally,  it  may  be 
stated  that  plant-organs,  with  the  exception  of  ordinary  flattened 
horizontally  expanded  leaves  and  other  organs  of  Similar  organiza- 
tion, grow  at  hast  as  well  in  darkness  as  in  light,— that  exposure 
to  light  is  not  an  essential  condition  of  their  growth.  M'ith  leaves 
and  leaf-like  organs  the  case  is  difl'crent.  ^Yhen  plants  are  kept  for 
some  time  in  darkness  one  of  the  most  striking  features  is  the 
smallness  of  the  leaves  of  the  shoots  which  have  been  developed 
during  that  time.  This  is  not  to  ho  ascribed  to 'an  absence  of 
plastic  material,  for  it  is  exhibited  when  plastic  material  is  abun- 
dantly present  in  the  tissues  ;  nor  can  it  be  attributed  to  the  fact 
that  in  darkness  tho  leaves  aro  not  able  to  carry  on  the  formation 
of  organic  substance,  for  it  is  not  all  leaves  which  remain  small  in 
darkness,  but  only  those  which  have  the  organization  described 
above.  The  long  tubular  leaves  of  the  Onion,  for  example,  con- 
tinue to  grow  in  darkness,  and  so  do  tho  long  flattened  leaves  of 
Irises.  The  arrest  of  the  growth  of  flattened  horizontally  ex- 
panded leaves  in  darkness  is  duo  to  some  peculiar  effect,  whiclvwe 
must  regard  as  of  a  'tonic"  nature,  exercised  by  light  upon  the 
growing  cells.  Intenniltent  exposure  to  light  for  brief  periods 
suflices  to  enable  the  leaves  to  carry  on  their  giowth  in  darkness, 
and  it  is  not  necessary  that  tho  light  should  be  intense.  The  in- 
termittent exposure  induces  in  the  leaf  a  condition,  though  it  can- 
not bo  precisely  stated  what,  which  permits  of  tho  continuance  of 
growth, — a  condition  which  is  termed  "phototonus."  Assuming 
that  tho  organ  is  actually  growing,  wo  find  that  in  all  cases  light 
retards  tho  rate  of  growth,  and  this  tho  more  markedly,  tho  greater 
its  intensity.  Wiesner  has,  in  fact,  shown  that  growth  may  bo 
altogether  arrested  by  exposure  of  the  glowing  organ  (o  intense 
light.  Tho  effect  of  light  in  retarding  growth  has  been  ascertained 
by  comparative  measurements  of  similar  organs  growing,  some  in 
darkness  others  in  light,  and  is  proved  negatively  by  the  greater 
length  usually  attained  by  shoots  which  have  grown  in  darkness 
for  a  given  time  as  compared  with  that  attained  in  an  equal  time 
by  shoots  growing  in  light.  It  appears  that  variations  in  tho  in- 
tensity of.  light,  as  such,  ofTcct  tho  rate  of  erowtli.     PfetTcr  ha* 


58 


PHYSIOLOGY 


rvEGEXAELk.. 


found  tliat  exposure  to  light  faiised  certain  flovrers  to  open,  and  to 
darkness  to  close.  Probably  this  is  accompanied,  as  in  the  parallel 
case  of  temperature,  by  an  acceleration  of  tlie  mean  rate  of  growth. 
The  relation  of  the  long  axis  of  a  growing  organ  to  the  line  of 
action  of  gravity  appears  also  to  affect  its  rate  of  growth.  Klfving 
has  found  that  the  sporangiferous  hyplia:  of  Phycomyccs,  which 
normally  grow  vertically  upwards,  grow  somewhat  less  rapidly 
when  they  ai-e  maintained  in  the  inverse  position,  that  their  growth 
in  length  is  more  rapid  in  opposition  to  the  action  of  gravity  than 
in  the  same  direction,  and  this  he  thinks  is  true  of  all  organs  which 
normally  grow  vertically  upwards.  Gravity  would  appear,  there- 
fore, to  exercise  a  tonic  influence  on  growth.  The  substitution  for 
gravity  of  a  cousideVablo  centrifugal  force  produced  no  apparent 
effect  on  the  rate  of  growth. 

The  direction  of  growth  of  an  organ  is  determined  partly  by  in- 
herent and  partly  by  external  causes.  Beginning  with  the  inherent 
causes,  we  find  that,  when  the  action  of  external  directive  influences 
upon  growing  organs  is  as  far  as  possible  eliminated,  the  axis  of 
growth— that  is,  the  line  joining  the  apex  and  the  base^s  approxi- 
mately a  straight  line.  Thus  A^ochtiug  has  shown  that,  when 
growing  shoots  are  caused  to  grow  in  darkness  and  to  rotate  slowdy 
about  a  horizontal  axis  by  means  of  an  instrument  termed  a  "  clino- 
Inherent  stat,"  their  long  axes  become  straight.  This  is  the  expression  of 
causes,  au  inherent  tendency  which  he  terms  "  rectipetality."  But  the 
line  of  growth  is  not  at  all  times  straight ;  for  instance,  the  apex 
of  an  organ  growing  vertically  upwards  does  not  travel  upwards  in 
a  straight  line,  but  oscillates  from  side  to  side  of  the  vertical.  This 
oscillation  is  tenned  "  nutation,"  and  is  due  to  the  fact  that  growth 
in  length  is  not  uniformly  rapid  on  all  sides  of  the  growing  organ, 
but  that  during  any  given  period  of  time  one  side  grows  more 
rapidly  than  the  others. .  This  unequal  growth,  which  .we  tnay  term 
"heteranxesis,"  is  apparently  spontaneous.  The  particular  path 
which  the  apex  of  an  organ  describes  in  the  course  of  its  growth 
depends  upon  the  properties  of  the  organ,  a  point  which  may  now 
be  conveniently  dealt  with. 
Proper-  Some  information  as  to  the  properties  of  an  organ  may  be  ob- 
ties  of  tained  from  observation  of  its  anatomical  structure.  For  instance, 
growing  cylindrical  orcans,  such  as  many  shoots,  are  radially  symmetrical 
organs,  in  structure,  and  they  are  in  most  cases  found  to  be  also  physio- 
logically radial.  Some  organs,  again,  such  as  the  leaves  of  some 
Irises,  are  bilaterally  symmetrical  in  structure,  and  they  are  found 
to  be  physiologically  bilateral.  Other  organs,  finally,  such  .  as 
flattened  expanded  leaves,  prothallia  of  Ferns,  thalloid  shoots  of 
Liverworts,  though,  like  the  bilateral  organs,  they  present  two 
opposed  surfaces,  are  not  bilaterally  symmetrical  in  structure,  inas- 
much as  the  tissues  in  relation  with  the  two  surfaces  are  differently 
constituted.  Such  organs  are  dorsiventral  both  anatomically  and 
physiologically.  The  properties  of  an  organ  are  not,  however, 
always  to  be  inferred  from  structure.  In  some  cases  radial  sym- 
metry of  structure  is  accompanied  by  dorsiventral  properties.  This 
is  the  case,  as  Sachs  has  shown,  with  the  shoots  of  Tropseolum  maju's 
under  certain  circumstances. 

The  fiuestion  now  naturally  arises.  How  are  the  peculiar  pro- 
perties induced?  In  some  cases  they  can  only  be  accounted  for  by 
regarding  them  as  inherent ;  this  is  true  of  radial  organs,  of  bi- 
lateral organs,  and  to  a  certain  extent  of  dorsiventral  organs.  The 
lateral  branches  of-dicotyledonous  trees  have,  in  many  cases,  been 
found  to  possess  inherent  dorsiventral  properties.  In  other  cases, 
Ixjwever,  dorsiventrality  is  induced.  It  has  been  found  by  Frank 
-and  his  observation  Tias  been  corroborated  by  De  Vries — that  the 
<lorsiveutrality  of  the  lateral  shoots  of  Conifers  is  induced  by  their 
relation  to  gravity.  When  maintained  in  a  horizontal  position 
during  their  growth  the  side  which  is  uppermost  becomes  thedorsal 
surface,  the  other  the  ventral  surface.  Again,  Sachs  has  shown  that 
the  young  shoot  of  Tropeeolum  is  radial,,  but  that  if  it  be  exposed 
to  strong  unilateral  illumination  it  exhibits  dorsiventral  propertied^ 
the  more  strongly  illuminated  side  becoming  the  dorsal  surface, 
and  further,  that  the  plane  of  dorsiventrality  may  be  altered  by 
causing  the  light  to  fall  on  a  fresh  side  of  the  shoot.  A  similar 
case  of  the  induction  of  do;-siventrality  is  ofi'ered  by  the  thalloid 
shoot  of  ilarchantia.  Tracing  the  development  of  the  shoot  from 
a  gemma,  we  find  the  gemma  to  be  bilaterally  symmetrical  in 
structure  and  in  physiological  properties.  It  falls  to  the  earth 
with  one  surface  undermost,  -which  becomes  the  ventral  surface, 
whilst  the  upper  surface  becomes  the  dorsal;  That  the  dorsiven- 
tr.ality  is  in  this  case  induced  by  light  is  proved  by  the  fact  that, 
if  an  expei'iment  be  so  arranged  that  the  light  falls  on  the  under 
surface  of  the  gemma,  this  becomes  the  dorsal  surface,  whilst  the 
upper  surface  becomes  the  ventral. 

The  further  question  now  arises,  How  can  the  nature  of  the  pro- 
perties of  an  organ  be  determined,  if,  as  has  been  shown,  it  cannot 
always  be  determined  by  an  examination  of  the  structure  ?  The 
answer  is,  that  it  can  be  determined  by  observing  the  mode  of 
growth  of  tlie  organ,  and  especially  its  response  to  the  action  of  ex- 
ternal directive  influences.  Thus,  the  spontaneous  heteranxesis  of 
a  radial  organ  is  such  that  each  side  in  turn  is  the  one  which  is 
growing  with  the  greatest  rapidity,  so  that,  seen  from  above,  the 


apex  will  appear  to  describe  a  somewhat  circular  orbit,  and  its 
path  upwanU  will  be  spiral.  This  kind  of  nutation  is  termed 
"  revolvin''  nutation,"  or  "  circumnutatiou  "  (Darwin).  Similarly, 
in  bilateral  organs  each  of  the  two  sides  grows  alternately  the  more 
rapidly,  so  that,  seen  from  above,  the  apex  appears  to  oscillate  from 
side  to  side  of  the  vertical,  and  its  path  will  be  a  zigzag  line.  Also 
in  dorsiventral,  as  in  bilateral,  organs  each  of  the  two  sides  gr'ows 
alternately  the  more  rapidly,  but  the  period  of  alternation  is  much 
longer,  and  may  occur  only  once  during  the  whole  period  of  growth. 
For  instance,  the  young  leaves  of  Ferns  are  rolled  up  upon  their 
internal  (dorsal)  surfaces  ;  they  present  what  is  known  as  "  circinate 
vernation."  .  This  is  due  to  the  fact  that  at  first  the  lower  (ventral) 
surface  of  the  leaf  grows  more  rapidly  than  the  upper  (dorsal) ;  it 
is  only  towards  the  end  of  the  period  of  growth  that  the  upper 
surface  gi'ows  the  more  rapidly,  and  then  the  leaf  expands.  Special 
terms  have  been  applied  to  these  phases  of  growth  ;  when  the  upper, 
surface  of  the  organ  is  growing  the  more  rapidly  the  growth  is 
said  to  be  "Spinastic,"  when  the  lower  "hyponastic." 

The  spontaneous  variations  in  the  direction  of  growth  of  an  orcan  £<ter 
thus  aff'ord  some  indication  of  the  nature  of  its  organization,  tut  direct! 
this  is  more  clearly  shown  by  its  response  to  the  action  of  external  influ- 
directive  influences.     These  will  now  be  taken  in  order.  ences. 

Rndianl  Encrrjy.  —  It  will  be  convenient  to  consider  separately 
the  phenomeua  exliibited  by  organs  of  different  physiological 
properties. 

Beginning,  then,  with  radial  shoot-organs,  it  is  usually  found  that  Helio- 
when  light  falls  upon  one  side  of  such  an  organ  the  organ  curves  tropisi 
so  as  to  direct  its  apex  towards  the  source  of  light,— in  other  words,  in  radi 
that  it  tends  to  place  its  long  axis  parallel  to  the  direction  of  the  organs 
incident  rays.  .  The  efi"ect  of  the  unilateral  illumination  is  to  cause 
heteranxesis  of  the  organ  such  that  the  side  upon  which  tho  light 
directly  falls  is  the  one  which  grows  the  most  slowly,  and  therefore 
becomes  coucave.  Inasmuch  as  all  curvatures  induced  by  light  arc 
included  under  the  term  "  heliotropism,",  organs  which  e-xhibit  the 
kind  of  curvature  above  desciibe^l  may  be  said  to  be  "  positively 
heliotropic."  As  examples  of  positively  heliotropic  radial  oi'gans 
may  be  mentioned  radial  stems,  the  multicellular  stipes  of  ^me 
Fungi  (Copriniis,  Claviccps),  the. sporangiferous  hypha;  of  unicellular 
Fungi  {Mucor,  PiJobolus),  radial  leaves,  such  as  those  of  tho  Onion, 
and,  as  exceptional  cases,  some  roots  (Onion.  Ranunctiliis  a^/juUilis). 
In  other  cases  the  efi"ect  of  unilateral  irumi-ation  is  the  re/erse 
of  the  above  :  the  organ  curves  so  as  to  du-c^  t  its  apex  away  from 
the  source  of  light,  though  it  still  tends  to  place  its  lon^  axis 
parallel  to  the  direction  of  the  incident  rays.  Organs  curving  in 
this  manner  are  said  to  be  "negatively  heliotropic  "  This  condi- 
tion has  been  frequently  observed  in  roots,  and  among  shoots  it  is 
characteristic  of  the  hypocotyl  of  the  llistletie.  JIany  ca-^'cs  of 
negative  heliotropism  in  shoots  have  been  men'ioned,  particularly 
the  tendrils  of  Kitis  and  Ampelojisis,  in  which  its  exis.tence  was 
first  detected  by  Knight ;  but  the  apparent  negative  heliotropism 
in  these  cases  is  probably  the  expression  of  something  altogether 
diff'erent,  as  will  be  subsequently  pointed  out.  There  appear  to  be 
some  well-authenticated  cases  of  a  reversal  of  heliotropic  properties 
in  the  course  of  development  of  certain  organs.  Hofmeister  states 
that  the  floral  peduncles  of  Linaria  Cymlalaria  are  positively 
heliotropic,  but  that  when  the  ftuit  has  replaced  the  nower  the 
peduncle  is  negatively  heliotropic ;  and  AViesner  states  that  the 
peduncle  of  Hdianlhcmuin  vulgare  is  negatively  heliotropic  after 
iertilization  has  taken  place.  The  nature  of  the  heliotropic  pro- 
perties appears  thus  to  vary  with  the  biological  conditions  of  the 
organs. 

When  qrgans  are  exposed  throughout  the  whole  period  of  their 
growth  to  nnilatefal  illulnination  they  usually  take  up  a  certain 
position  which  is  termed  the  "fixed-light  position,"  such  that 
they  curve  towards  the  direction  of  incidence  of  the  brightest 
light.  In  some  cases  this  is  not  so.  This  may  be  explained  by 
an  absence  of  heliotropic  sensitiveness,  but  in  some  cases  it  is 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  organs  follow  the  daily  course  of  the  sun. 
AViesner  mentions  Sonchus  arvcnsis  as  a  striking  example  of  the 
latter  condition.  The  activity  of  the  curvature  stands  in  a  direct 
relation  to  the  intensity  of  the  incident  light.  The  same  botanist 
has  found  that  for  the  organs  of  each  plant  there  is  an  optimum 
intensit}'  of  light  which  produces  the  maximum  of  heliotropic.effect, 
and  that  any  increase  or  diminution  of  this  intensity  is  followed  by 
a  diminished  heliotropic  effect. 

.  AA'itli  regard  to  the  relative  heliotropic  effect  of  ra3's  of  difl"erent 
wave-length,  it  has  long  been  known  that  the  rays  of  high  refrangi- 
bility  are  much  more  powerful  than  those, of  low  refrangibility. 
AViesner  finds  the  distribution  of  heliotropic  effect  in  the  spectrum 
to  be  more  exactly  this  :  the  greatest  curvature  is  produced  by  the 
rays  at  the  j  unction  of  the  ultra-violet  and  violet ;  from  this  point 
the  heliotropic  effect  diminishes  until,  in  the  yellow,  it  disappears- 
it  begins  to  manifest  itself  again  in  tlie  orange,  and  increases  untU 
it  reaches  a  small  secondary  maximum  in  the  ultra-red.  Helio. 
tropic  efl'ect  is  by  no  means  confined  to  the  luminous  rays  of  thf-: 
spectrum.  AViesner,  and  more  recently  AA'ortmann  and  BarthiS- 
lemy,  have  shown  that  the  dark  heat-rays  possess  it.     The  curva 


VEGETABLE.] 


PHYSIOLOGY 


tures  produced  by  the  dark  rays  arc  sometimes  designated  by  the 
term  "  tliermotro[iism. " 

The  effect  of  unilateral  illumination  is  not  immedutcly  ex- 
hibited, noi-  does  it  cease  immediately  upon  the  withdrawal  of  the 
organ  from  light.  If  an  organ  be  exposed  for  only  a  short  time  to 
unilateral  illuminntioii,  it  may  not  exhibit  any  curvature  during 
the  period  of  exposure,  but  will  curve  subsei)ueutly  in  darkui'ss. 
The  exposure  had  sufliced  to  induce  heliotropic  curvature.  This 
Wiesner  terms  "  photo-meclianical  induction,"  but  it  is  simply  due 
to  the  slow  response  of  the  organ  to  the  directive  influence  of  the 
incident  rays, — to  a  long  "  latent  period. " 

Turning  now  to  the  part  played  by  the  gi'owing  organ  in  helio- 
tropic curvature,  it  is  clear  that  the  curvature  will  largely  de[iend 
u])OU  the  heliotropic  sensitiveness  of  the  organ,  and  it' must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  organs  vary  widely  in  this  resi)ect.  The  cur- 
vature is  in  all  cases  conQned  to  the  growing  region  of  the  organ, 
or,  to  put  it  more  generally,  to  the  region  which  is  capable  of 
growing.  lu  connexion  with  this  point,  the  further.one  natui'ally 
ari.''es  as  to  the  seat  of  heliotropic  sensitiveness.  It  is  usually 
a^rimed  that  those  zones  which  are  growing  most  rapidly  are  those 
which  are  most  sensitive,  but  Darwin  found  that  in  some  cases 
(cotyledons  of  Phalaris  and  Avena,  hypocotyls  of  Cabbage  and  Beet) 
illumination  of  the  tip  of  the  organ  appeared  to  induce  heliotropic 
cuivature.  This  cannot  at  present  be  regarded  as  fully  established. 
:  With  regard  to  the  lieliotropic  phenomena  presented  by  simply 
bilitei-al  organs,  sucli  as  the  leaves  of  Irises,  it  will  suffice  to  say 
thiit  they  an  positively  heliotropic.  ■ 

The  helir-tfoplc  phenomena  presented  by  dorsiventral  organs  are 
more  complicated.  It  has  been  observed  that  dorsiventral  branches 
(iucluding  the  tendrils  of  Vitis  and  Ampelopsis  mentioned  above), 
when  exposed  to  vertical  light,  tend  to  assume  a  horizontal  position, 
wliereas  in  darkness  they  usually  gi-ow  erect.  Dorsiventral  leaves 
usually  remain  horizontal  in  darkness.  A  full  discussion  of  these 
facts  cannot  be  entered  uponthere;  a  few  rcmaiks  must  suffice. 
It  is  argued  by  some,  especially  by  De  Vrics,  that  the  horizontal 
position  of  dorsiventral  organs  when  exposed  to  light  is  duo  to 
negative  heliotropism  ;  but  there  is  no  adequate  proof  that  this  is 
really  the  case.  Sachs  says  on  the  subject,  "So  far  as  I  can  appre- 
hend the  facts,  the  negative  heliotropism  of  the  Marchantia-snoot, 
and  that  of  many  other  shoots  whicn  behave  in  the  same  way,  is 
the  same  phenomenon  as  the  epinasty  of  foliage-leaves  described  by 
Do  Vries.  Detmer  has  in  fact  found  that  exposure  to  light,  quite 
independently  of  the  direction  of  the  incident  rays,  induces  the 
rapid  growth  of  the  dorsal  surface  of  dorsiventral  leaves — in  a 
word,  induces  photo -epinasty.  Continued  photo -epinasty  would 
tlearly  cause  the  organ  to  curve  downwards  below  the  horizontal 
niane,  and  this  is  occasionally  actually  the  case.  .But  more  fre- 
i'|Uently  i'/.J  organ  rs-nains  in  the  horizontal  plane  when  the  light 
falls  vertically  upon  it,  or,  to  put  the  case  more  generally,  the 
orgnn  takes  up  such  a  fixed-light  position  that  its  long  axis  is  at 
right  angles  to  the  direction  of  the  incident  rays.  Moreover,  it 
has  been  ascertained  that  it  is  always  the  dorsal  surface  of  leaves 
which  is  directed  towards  the  brightest  incident  light.  It  is  clear 
that,  in  addition  to  the  induction  of  photo-epinasty,  light  exercises 
a  directive  influence  upon  the  growth  of  these  organs.  The  attempt 
has  been  made  to  explain  this  by  ascribing  to  the  dorsiventral 
organs  merely  the  holiotfopic  properties  wliich  belong  to  radial 
organs,  but  this  explanation  is  quite  insufficient.  They  can  only 
bo  accounted  for  by  attributing  to  dorsiventral  organs,  as  Frank  has 
done,  a  peculiar  heliotropic  sensitiveness,  which  ho  terms  "trans- 
verse heliotropism  "  and  Darwin  "diaholiotroprsm,"  which  mani- 
fests itself  in  the  as.sumption  of  such  a  position  that  the  dorsal 
surface  of  the  organ  is  placed  at  right  angles  to  the  direction  of 
the  iuciilent  rays. 

Oravily. — The  influence  of  gravity  in  determining  the  direction 
of  growth  of  an  organ  manifests  itself  in  phononiona  which  arc 
designated  by  the  term  "geotropism. "  We  will  again  consider  sepa- 
rately the  phenomena  which  are  presented  by  organs  of  difforeut 
physiological  properties. 

r  iicgimiing  with  radial  organs,  wo  find  that  a  great  number  of 
th^m  normally  grow  cither  upwards  or  downwards  ;  thns,  primary 
shoots  grow  upwards  and  jirimary  roots  grow  downwards.  If  any 
'attempt  is  made  to  alter  the  direction  of  giowth  of  these  organs 
they  at  once  curve  so  os  to  regain  their  nornial  direction.  That 
the  direction  of  growth  is  actually  the  result  of  the  action  of  gravity 
was  first  demonstrated  by  Knight.  Ho  caused  seeds  to  germinate 
on  a  wheel  revolving  with  suflicient  rapidity  to  sot  up  a  considerable 
centrifugal  force,  and  he  found  that  the,  roots  and  stems  of  the  seed- 
lings behaved  with  regard  to  the  direction  of  the  centrifugal  force 
',)rocisely  as  they  do  with  regard  to  that  of  gravity  :  the  roots  grow 
ralially  outwards,  rfnd  the  stems  radially  inwards.  Mo  states  his 
co'ic]usion  thus  :  "  I  conceive  myself  to  liave  inoved  that  the  radi- 
cle? of  germinating  seeds  are  made  to  dcsccnii,  and  their  plumules 
tir  ascend,  by  some  external  cause,  and  not  by  any  ;Ower  inherent 
ill  vegetable  life ;  and  I  see  little  reason  to  doubt  .nat  gravitation 
is  the  principal,  if  not  the  only,  agent  employed  iu  this  case  by 
N  .ture." 


In  conformity  with  the  terminology  used  with  reference  to  helio- 
tropism, organs  which  grow  towards  the  centre  of  the  earth  an 
said  to  be  "  positively  geotropic  "  and  those  growing  in  the  opfKMito 
direction  "  negatively  geotropic."  As  examples  of  positively  geo- 
tropic radial  organs  may  be  mentioned,  in  addition  to  primary 
roots,  the  hyph;e  of  lloulds  which  penetrate  into  the  substratum, 
the  root-like  filaments  of  VaucheriajiCaulcrpa,  and  other  Algs,  the 
rliizoids  of  Muscinex,  the  rhizomes  •bf  some  pknts,  such  as  Yucca 
aud  CuTiiyline:  As  examples  of  negatively  geotropic  radial  organs 
may  be  mentioned,  iu  addition  to  primary  shoots,  the  stipes  of 
ilushrooms,  the  sporangiferous  hyphx  of  Moulds,  the  stalks  of  the 
receptacles  of  Liverworts,  the  setse  of  Mnscincee,  the  peduncles  of 
many  flowers,  the  climbing  roots  of  various  epiphytes.  Cases  of 
the  absence  of  geotropic  imtability  are  alforded  by  the  Iiypocotyl  of 
the  Jlistletoe,  and  by  the  aerial  roots  of  various  epiiihytes.  A 
reverse  of  its  geotropic  properties  may  take  place  in  the  coarse  of 
the  development  of  an  organ.  Vochting  has  found,  for  instance, 
that  the  peduncle  of  the  I'oppy  is  negatively  geotropic  whilst  the 
flower  is  iu  the  bud,  but  positively  geotropic  during  flowciing  and 
fruiting.  ■ 

In  dealing  mth  these  phenomena  we  have  first  to  consider  the 
effect  of  gravity  acting  at  different  angles.  Sachs  concludes,  and 
his  conclusion  is  generally  accepted,  that  the  geotropic  influence  of 
gravity  is  greatest  when  the  long  axis  of  the  organ  is  at  right  angles 
to  the  vertical,  and  that  it  is  zero  when  the  long  axis  of  the  organ 
coincides  with  the  vertical,  whether  the  apex  point  upwards  or 
downwards,  or  whether  the  organ  be  positively  or  negatively  geo- 
tropic,— that  is,  if  the  force  of  gravity  acting  at  any  point  of  an 
organ  be  decomposed  into  two  forces,  the  one  acting  at  right  angles 
to  the  long  axis  of  the  organ  and  the  other  along  it,  it  is  only  the 
former  which  produces  a  geotropic  effect.  Sachs  bases  this  view 
upon  the  fact  that  geotropic  curvature  is  more  rapidly  produced 
when  an  organ  is  horizontal  than  when  it  is  in  any  other  position. 
Elfving  has  made  observations  which  suggest  a  difl'erent  view, 
namely,  that  the  geotropic  action  of  gravity  upon  an  organ  is 
greatest  when  that  organ  is  removed  as  lar  as  possible  from  its 
normal  relation  to  the  vertical. 

The  degi-ee  of  geotropic  sensitiveness  is  different  in  different 
organs.  This  is  shown  by  the  difl'erent  directions  of  growth  taken 
by  dilferent  organs  when  grown  under  conditions  w^iich  prevent 
to  a  sufficient  extent  other  directive  influences  from  producuig  any 
effect.  For  instance,  primary  roots  grow  vertically  downwards, 
but  lateral  roots  grow  more  or  less  niearly  horizontally.  It  has 
been  ascertained,  by  means  of  centrifugal  force,  that  lateral  roots 
can  be  induced  to  behave  like  primary  roots  if  only  the  force  is 
sufficient :  lateral  roots  grow  radially  outwards  on  the  wheel  when 
the  centrifugal  force  is  4g  (!?=force  of  gi'avity).  It  may  be  inferred 
that  their  geotropic  sensitiveness  is  one-fourth  of  that  of  primary 
roots.  The  response  of  an  organ  to  the  directive  influence  of 
gravity,  as  in  the  case  of  heliotropism,  is  not  immediate,  but  is 
preceded  by  a  long  latent  period.  An  organ  placed  hoiizontally 
will  not  begiu  to  curve  for  some  time,  and  if  then  placed  vertically 
the  curvature  will  proceed  for  some  time.  Geotropic  curvature, 
like  heliotropic  curvature,  is  a  phenomenon  of  induced  heterau.xcsis, 
the  result  being  the  assuiiiiition  by  the  organ  of  such  a  position 
that  gravity  ceases  to  exert  any  directive  influence  upon  it 
Primary  shoots  and  roots,  for  instance,  find  the  vertical  to  ue  their 
position  of  rest,  whereas  lateral  branches  take  up  a  more  or  less 
inclined  position.  It  appears  that,  generally  at  least,  the  most 
rapidly  glowing  zoucl-  of  organs  arc  those  in  which  geotropic  influ- 
ence is  most  active.  It  has  been  hitherto  generally  accepted  that 
the  seat  of  most  active  curvature  was  also  the  seat  of  geotropic 
sensitiveness.  Darwin  recently  brought  forward  the  view,  based 
upon  the  behaviour  of  roots  with  their  tips  cut  oil',  that,  in  tlio 
root  at  least,  the  tip  is  tho  seat  of  geotropic  sensitiveness.  This 
suggestion  has  given  rise  to  a  number  of  itsearches,  the  resulti  of 
which  are  so  conflicting  that  it  is  impossible  at  present  to  come  to 
any  definite  conclusion  on  tho  subject. 

With  regard  to  tho  geotropic  properties  of  siranly  bilateral 
organs  (leaves  of  Irises,  itc.)  it  need  only  bo  said  that  they  ore 
negatively  geotropic. 

Coming,  finally,  to  the  geotropic  phenomena  presented  by  dorsi 
ventral  organs,  wo  find  that  many  orpns  which  when  growin;, 
exposed  to  light  have  a  more  or  less  oblique  direction  of  growth, 
grow  erect  in  darkness.  This  is  obviously  an  cll'ect  of  gravity,  am" 
the  organs  are  clearly  negatively  geotropic  (cxaiiiiilos  are  allbrdeil 
by  tho  runners  of  rulygonum  nvieularc,  AtrijUex  InlifoHa,  aud 
others,  by  jadioal  leaves,  and  by  thalloid  slioota  of  ilarchaniia). 
Hut  some  doraiventral  organs  do  not  grow  erect  in  darkness. 
Frank  mentions  the  runners  of  Fragnria  lucida,  lateral  branches  ol 
Conifers,  and  many  dicotyledonous  nhnibs  and  trees  as  examples. 
lie  finds,  further,  that  when  these  organs  are  placed  otherwise  than 
horizontally  they  curv-o  until  they  come  to  lie  in  tha(  plane,  and, 
if  they  are  placed  in  an  inverse  position  so  that  their  normally 
inferior  surface  (ventral)  is  uppermost,  they  twist  on  their  own 
axes  until  the  normal  relation  of  their  surfaces  with  respect  to  tho 
vertical  is  attained  \  many  leaves  also  belmvo  in  this  way.     Frank 


PHYSIOLOGY 


60 

accounts  ^or  tj-e  ^-na^^  -^^^^^^^e^^'t^:^ 

severely  ^f  seized  tins  assumpUon      He  leg        ^^  ^ 

shoots  and  branches  '"/°  ^/''^^^•^""Lromsm  of  the  stems  intcr- 
cxtent;  the  expression  of  the  negative  gcotioi  IS  ^  ^^^^ 

fered  ^vith  by  t^^^eiglit  of  the  leaves   a„d^ 

the  expression  of  those  forms  of  ^P""*;^"/",  to  above.     Similarly 

emnastv  and  hyponasty  which  were  alluded  to  fbove  J 


epinasty  and  hyponasty  whicn  were  >""---  trasckbing  them 
h^e  accounts  for  the  torsions  "^^J^^^f  .^J  ,f ^^^3''o„\he  two  Ides  of 
tn  the  unequal  twisting  moment  of  the  leaves  oii  i"°  ,..:„,„„„„  „f 
the  shoot  when  in  the  fnverse  position.     In  view  of  th 


3  e.'iistence  of 


instance,  when  seeds  are  sown  in  a  ^"^^f^amp  sawa  ^^^  ^^^^^ 

of  the  box  being  perforated  with  ^"^"f"'  ^^^  =3,   ^^^  ultimately 

of  th.  seedlings  grow  .^^-^^^tv  then  no  lon^^r  grow  vertically 
project  through  the  holes.     They  then  no  ^^        g      ^^^^  ^^^^^^^ 

lownwards,  but  curve  so  as  to  apply  t'r"V'7„\;' Xnomena  Darwin 
offered  by  the  bottom  of  the  box  To  «>";  P^f^^^h.urve  in  this 
has  appHed  th,  tei^,;'hydro  roin^       O^g^^^  , 

"  n'egltivet  h°-d™troP'   of/ani.     WorLann  has  observed,  for 


Galvano 
tropism. 


jub- 


"  negatively  hydrotropic  .  "'B''"-      ■„"':  p;,<.<^„c«s  curve  away 
instance,  that  the  ^^P°-"gf  X",  J^^^^^^^ 

from  a  moist  surface.      1 "«  r''™°'"''",i^'  ^...,tu/e  is  in  this  case 
of  heliotropism  and  9^  gj°trop|Sin      The  curvature  is  1 

also  the  expression  of  >°f  "f  f  ^^f*.\\!Yn X  region  of  most  rapid 
""  ,t°    DaJwt'cf'me  to  the"  oncluslon  thlt  the  hydrotropic 

tZ^i^^^^!"^^^^^^'^  accepted  as  .eU 
.'°t:Luy.-nMn,  found  *at  when  a  root  is  p  W^^^^ 
between  two  electrodes  it  curves  towa  ds  ^ii^  P°;'  ^^^^^^^^^^^^  the 

is  a.'ainst  the  direction  of  the  current.     In  °°^,^f,f  .^fHettluigen), 

frhese  phenomena   are   ^P°^«°.  "^  ^s      .Canotiopis  _^^^^^ 

Stratum,  cotyl  of  the  Mistletoe,   m  ^^.^tev^r  positKm  toe  see^  lo„Vaxis 
be?n  placed,  ---- f^^'^.f^^fo  fXeh  t^e°te^d  Us  germiSated. 

not  to  be  ascribed,  as  Van  Tieghem  suggested,  ^o"' 
the  substratum.     The  effect  of  ^ .  ^"^^  ?    *"  f^  ^^traction  of  the 
-±  InltherS  with  rX^ of  S^^tr  The  5^^^^^^ 
^^^^^7^  - -trrnT^wth  of 

able  pressure.  The  l^^er  are  of  two  kinds  ^  Jhe  organ  which  is 
pressure  arrests,  the  S™}!'!'.  °  ^^^  the  organ  to  active  growth, 
exposed  to  It;  '°J\!  °'^'' iVaZks  of  tie  former  effect  are  so 
particulaiiy  i°  tl^'<^^"'f "  „.  be  snecified ;  examples  of  the  latter 
common  tha  they  -<^^^^°  „J\  Srlls  and  o\  climbing  stems 
are  afforded  by  tne  ^"'ei^euiuo  "  cnminrt       The  phenomena 

when  they  have  firmly  S^^P.^'^  f '?,%lTced  by  sligh^t  pressure, 
now  to  be  considered  are  ^'^'^l' ^s  are  induced  bj  s,i|     p 

^■ci^;:?i^:,^c^^x  s^r-a^^g  to  ^ir^n, 

be  given  here  of  the  more  important  Phenomena  c 

they  are  not  sensitive  when  they  are  either  J«^y  ?      f. f^^^^s 


[VEGET.VBLB. 

slightly  but  permanently  hooked,  and  the  =«"^"lveness  is  localu^d 
n  the^oncavity  of  the  hook.     In  ^<>™^  "ses    C  6-^a  s  on^^^. 

I  ,,Ifi      As  it  does  so  new  points  of  the  sensitive  surface  are 

HnSdknd  tie  cur4ure  increases  and  extends  until  the  whole 
of  "hftemiriUj^g  between  the  original  point  of  contact  and  the 
anex  is  wound  in  a°  spiral  coU  round  the  suppor       In  some  cas» 

mmamMM 
mmFMMm 

?°°^  on  th^v  are  Jouped  into  two%'r  more  spires,  separated  by 
direction  ;  they  are  g|'>"P'-"  '  .  »    <,  successive  spires 

short  straighter  Po^^""^'  t'^^^?™l,t  mecha  ical  necessity  asso- 
'"fVwi^fthfsptr  X^-  of  a  fi  anient  attached  at  bot/ends. 
ciated  with  the  spiral  luiuii„  ui  »  tpndril  usuallv  begins 

thickness,  for  there  is  a  mechanical     mit  to  tji^  exf  ^^^f     „f  ^-^e 
tion  of  the  -'>-^-t,f;rd?uTas  an -espl^al  Fnt:re'st,  asft  offers 

a^SiC^f  ^^^~y  Eft^^ttnt^'i^t 
that  the  tendnlsof  -any  Pknts  ^^^^^^^^^  ^,^^.^^ 

;Ll^anTo'ni?Ss  aMht'^time  ^hen  the  tendrUs  are  ceasing 
to  grow  and  to  be  f  "Sitive  ^^.^  sensitive 

to^ut  "0th:rS=:  •  a*e  at|e(by  the  petioles  of  most 

ing  stem  of  C^nUa  is  sensitive  like  a  endrU.  A  on  Mob  su^^es^^ 
thtt  all  climbing  stems  are  sensitive  but  botni^  ^^  ^^  ^^^^ 
Vries  were  unable  to  detect  tbe  sensiU  ene  s.      i  .^^^^_ 

Mohl  has  been  recently  revived  by  Kohl,  '  '«  ''_^;'^  ;„^^j  ^^^ 
nodes  of  climbing  stems  are  ^f^^^^J^J^  ^ '°?.?  ^echanicaf  effect 
.hich  is  i"-ffif -l*  t°  P^^t^ode^of  Tl^t^/m,"  scandal. 
Darwin  found  the  y^l^^S  l"!,'™?^^ the  pedundes  of  Maurandia 
,vhich  is  not  a  stem-climber  as  also  the  pea  ^^^^^  ^^^ 

-Xfh:cSe*:irh%rAunroT^anTfl^^^^^^ 
Kanuncnlus,  Tulip). 


Contact. 


:::^t::;ni;;.:-ihrstimuius^i:|j^i^^  ^jf^^^^::; 

sory  organ,_to  the  growing  zones  behind  It,    nwn  ^^^ 

curvature  is  then  ^ff^/^'l-  ,  f^«  -^ade  f  P^^^j,  ;„  ..^^^s  plants, 
smaU  objects  to  one  side  of  the  ^VP^f^J^"'^^^  by  cutting  a  thin 
bv  touching  one  side  of  tl>«  tip  ^"th  caustic  j^y^^j;,,,^  curved 

slice  off  one  side,  and  found  m  ^-^t  cases  tnat  in 
away  from  the  to-bed  or  injured  side   that  tlje^^cu^^^^  ^^^^P^ 

cUely  the  opposite  °f  t'L^*.Pf™/^^^^^^  the  "Darwinian 

The  peculiar  cumngof^dk    has  been  t^^_  ^  ^  the 

curvature.       Dannn  s  eonciusiuuj,  ,i:,„,,ssion      It  is  clear,  in 

affected  by  brief  contact  " /^y  '""^g""  :^j.3  ^ew,  such  as  Wiesncr, 
longed.     Those  who  dissent  from  Uar^m  s  ^^  ;  ;^      j  ;„ 

Bnfgerstein,  and  Detlefsen  ^  *at  the^urvature  ^^^^  ^^.^ 
his  experiments  are  pathological      It  seems  pro  ^^^ 

objection  is  valid.     It  may  ^«  admitted  at  on  e  in  t      ^^  .^ 

experiments  made  by  m^ans  of  slicing  the  ro^r  i  P  ^^^^  ^ 

Jh  caustic.  With  regard  to  the  effed^  ™f  ^^  J,„ji',e  is  due 
pieces  of  card,  it  appears  tbat    be  curvature  ^^^^.       ^^em. 

mainly,  if  not  entirely,  to  tb«  substances  use  ^^  ^^^,j^ 

In  some  cases,  for  instance,  they  were  attatineo    -v  1  .^ 

t  has  been  shown  that  the  ">^«.P^^=;„°;;,tte,nd  microscopical 
sufficient  to  induce  the  Dar^^"  ^t^'tluched  by  the  .heUac  had 
examination  has  P"^^'^.  tl-f  thipart  ton  i  ^^^^^ 

died  away.     Moreover,  't  %l^«ow°  t^^at  ^^^^  t^^tc  into  mer- 

;:,?!  rtCn^Sa^t^^oI^rt  deilexioE  ;  Darwin,  in  fact. 


TEGETABLE.] 


PHYSIOLOGY. 


Gl 


estimates  the  force  of 'lownwanl  ^owtli  of  th"?  raJic'.e  at  J  lb,  and 
its  lateral  pressure,  in  particular  cases,  at  8  ami  3  tb  respectively. 
The  evidence  leads  to  the  conclusion  that  the  Darwinian  curvature 
of  roots  is  not  the  a»cpression  of  sensitiveness  to  contact,  but  that 
it  is  the  result  of  injury  of  one  side  of  the  root 

Combined  Effects. — Now  that  the  influences  which  determine  the 
direction  of  growth  have  been  individually  considered,  it  is  possible 
to  account  for  the  characteristic  positions  takeu  up  by  or^tas  in 
the  course  of  their  development.  In  dealing  with  this  subject  it  is 
convenient,  as  Sachs  suggests,  to  classify  organs,  according  to  their 
ultimate  position,  into  two  groups, — those  which,  under  normal 
conditions,  have  their  long  axes  vertical  and  those  which  have 
their  long  axes  more  or  less  inclined  to  the  veitical ;  the  former 
Sachs  terms  "orthotropic"  organs,  the  latter  "plagiotropic." 

The  direction  of  growth  of  plant-organs  under  normal  conditions 
is  the  expression  of  th«  resultant  elfect  of  various  external  directive 
influences.     To  illustrate  this  in  the  case  of  orthotropic  organs,  let 
us  consider  the  primary  shoot  and  the  primary  root  of  a  seedling 
growing  under  conditions  which  may  be  taken  as  normal.     In  tl^e 
case  of  a  shoot  growing  upwards  into  the  air  when  light  falls  verti- 
cally upon  it,  its  vertical  upward  growth  is  chiefly  due  to  the  action 
of  gravity, — that  is,  it  is  the  expression  of  the  particular  degree 
and  quality  of  the  geotropic  sensitiveness  of  the  snoot.     Since  the 
light  is  equally  intense  on  all  sides  of  the  shoot,  it  exerts  no  direct- 
ive influence.     Orthotropism  is  then  mainly  due  to  negative  geo- 
tropisra.     That  this  is  so  can  be  readily  proved  in  various  ways. 
For  instance,  the  hypocotyl  of  the  Mistletoe,  as  mentioned  above, 
is  not  geotropic  at  all ;  ^lenco  it  cannot  be  included  among  either 
orthotropic  or  plagiotropic  organs,  for  it  may  grow  vertically  or  it 
may  grow  obliquely,  its  direction  of  growth  being  determined  chiefly 
by  its  soMiatotropisra.     Again,  when  a  normally  orthotropic  organ 
is  grown  in  darkness  on  a  clinostat  its  direction  of  growth  is  hori- 
zontal.    Passing  now  to  the  case  of  primary  roots  growing  in  the 
earth,  when  the  conditions  are  normal — that  is,  especially  when  the 
earth  is  uniformly  moist  around  the  root — their  direction  of  growth 
is  vertically  downwards.    This  is  chiefly  duo  to  their  strong  positive 
geotropism.     Let  us  suppose,  now,  that  the  conditions  of  growth 
of  these  organs  are  somewhat  different  from  those  which  we  have 
regarded  as  normal ;  let  us  suppose  that  the  shoot  or  the  root  is 
exposed  to  lateral  light,  or  that  the  soil  about  the  root  is  not  equally 
moist  on  all  sides.     In  the  former  case,  the  action  of  light  will  tend 
to  induce  heliotropic  curvature,  but  it  will  depend  upon  the  relative 
strength  of  heliotropic  and  of  geotropic  sensitiveness  whether  or 
not  a  curvature  actually  takes  place.     In  the  case  of  most  ortho- 
tropic shoots  a  curvature  (positive)  would  take  place,  thus  showing 
the  heliotropic  sensitiveness  of  shoots  to  be  greater  than  the  geo- 
tropic, but  in  some  instances  it  would  not  take  place  ;  in  the  case  of 
most  orthotropic  roots  no  curvature  would  take  place,  but  in  some 
instances  l,Sinapis  alba  and  others)  a  curvature  (negative)  would 
take  place,  showing  that  in  most  cases  the  heliotropic  sensitiveness 
of  roots  is  less  than  their  geotropic  sensitiveness.     The  unequal 
moisture  in  the  soil  around  the  root  would  cause  hydrotropic  curva- 
ture, inasmuch  as  the  sensitiveness  of  roots  to  the  influence  of  moist 
surfaces  is  greater  than  their  sensitiveness  to  gravity. 
laglo-        We  will  deal  with  plagiotropic  organs  in°a. similar  way.     The 
ropic     majority  of  such  are  lateral  members,  as  branches,  leaves,  kc.    Tlio 
rgans.   direction  of  growth  of  a  lateral  member,  certainly  of  branches  of 
stems  and  roots  and  probably  also  of  leaves,  is  at  first  determined 
by  its  relation  to  the  parent  axis.    It  has  been  found— by  Dutrochct, 
Sachs,  and  others — tnat  at  their  first  development  the  long  axes  of 
lateral  organs  make  a  definite  angle — termed  the  "  proper  angle  " — 
with  the  long  axis  of  the  parent  organ.     Dutrochet  thought  that 
the  proper  angle  was  in  all  ca^es  a  right  angle,  that  the  relation  of 
lateral  organ  to  parent  axis  was  of  the  nature  of  somatotropism  ; 
but  this  is  a  too  general  statement     The  original  direction  of 
growth  of  a  lateral  organ  determined  by  its  proper  angle  would  be 
maintained,  in  the  absence  of  internal  directive  influences,  by  its 
rcctipetality,  but  in  nature  it  is  affected  by  light,  by  gravity,  kc. 
Lateral  shoot -branches,  for  example,  are  either  inherently  dorsi- 
vcntral  or  they  become  dorsivcntral  under  the  influence  of  gravity 
or  of  unilateral  illumin,ation  ;  they  are  then  diaheliotropic,  though 
the  manifestation  of  their  diaheliotropism  may  be  interfered  with 
by  photo-epinasty  ;  they  are  usually  negatively  geotropic.     Their 
direction  of  growth — that  is,  the  direction  of  their  long  axes  when 
mature-— is  tne  resultant  effect  of  diaheliotropism  and  of  negative 
geotropism.     In  the  case  of  lateral  root-branches  theao  are  plagio- 
tropic but  radial ;  they  grow  outwards,  slightly  inclined  downwards 
below  the  hoiizontal  ;  as  they  grow  in  the  dark,— assuming  that 
the  moisture  of  the  soil  around  them  is  uniform, — their  direction  of 
growth  is  affected  to  some  extent  by  their  slight  positive  geotropism. 
Though  their  geotropic  sensitiveness  is  slight,  their  hydrotropic 
sensitiveness  is  great,  so  that  their  direction  of  growth  is  often 
very  much  modified  by  their  coming  into  relation  with  moist  areas 
pf  soil. 

A  complicated  case  of  the  action  of  a  number  of  directive  in- 
fluences ia  alTorded  by  climbing  stems,  and  it  may  bo  worth  while 
to  specially  oonsidcr  it    WhciJ  the  stem  is  young  and  extends  only 


a  few  inches  above  the  ground  it  appears  to  be  growing  almoit 
vertically  upwards,  but  as  it  elongates  the  last-foimcd  iirternodcs 
exhibit  well-marked  ciicumuutation.  It  continues  to  grow  upwards 
mainly  in  virtue  of  its  negative  geotiojiism,  the  direction  of  its 
growth  being  little,  if  at  all,  alfected  by  light  in  couscnuencc  of 
Its  low  degree  of  heliotropic  sensitiveness.  If  now  one  of  the  young 
growing  apical  internodcs  comes  into  contact  with  a  vertical  support 
it  begins  to  twine  around  it  in  virtue  of  the  sensitiveness  to  per- 
manent though  slight  pressure  which,  as  mentioned  above,  tliese 
organs  possess,  the  direction  of  the  curvature  round  the  support 
being  also  that  of  circuninutation.  The  coils  formed  are  nearly 
horizontal  when  the  support  is  thick  and  become  more  nearly  ver- 
tical as  the  supjiort  grows  thinner ;  in  any  case,  the  steepness  of 
the  spire  always  increases  after  it  is  first  formed,  its  diameter  is  thus 
diminished,  and  the  stem  gains  a  firm  grip  of  the  suppoit.  As  the 
stem  twines  round  the  support  it  undergoes  torsion  around  its  own 
axis,  so  that  any  one  side  maintains  throughout  the  same  jiosition, 
whether  it  be  directed  inwards,  towards  the  support,  or  outwards 
or  laterally.  The  direction  of  torsion  may  be  either  the  same  as 
that  of  coiling  or  the  reverse,  — that  is,  either  honiodromous  or 
antidromous.  The  direction  of  torsion  appears  to  depend  princi- 
pally on  the  relation  between  the  thickness  of  the  climbing  stem 
and  that  of  the  support,  and  on  the  smoothness  or  roughness  of 
the  surface  of  the  support ;  when  the  support  is  relatively  thin  the 
torsion  is  homodromous,  but  when  it  is  relatively  thick  the  torsion 
is  antidromous  ;  with  smooth  supports,  up  to  a  certain  limit  of 
thickness,  the  torsion  is  homodromous,  and  with  rou^h  supports, 
down  to  a  certain  limit  of  thinness,  the  torsion  is  antidromous  ;  in 
a  w-ord,  the  direction  of  torsion  is  determined  by  the  degree  of 
friction  between  the  climbing  stem  and  tlie  support. 

2.  Movements. — We  pass  now  to  the  consideration  of  movements  Proto 
other  than  those  associated  with  growth,  and  we  take  first  move-  plasm!* 
ments  exhibited  by  protoplasm.  These  may  be  classified  into  two  "'ove- 
categories,— (1)  those  which  are  performed  by  naked  protoplasm,—  '"'^''" 
by  protoplasm,  that  is,  which  is  not  enclosed  in  a  cell-wall ;  (2) 
those  exhibited  by  protoplasm  enclosed  in  a  cell-wall.  The  move- 
ments of  naked  protoplasm  are  effected  in  two  ways, — either  by 
the  protrusion  of  portions  of  the  protoplasm,  termed  "pseudopodia, 
or  by  permanent  flagelliform  protoplasmic  filaments,  termed  "cilia"; 
the  first  kind  of  movement  is  known  as  "amceboid,"  the  second  as 
"ciliary"  movement  The  amceboid  movemcntis  exhibited,  though 
rarely,  by  isolated  cells— for  instance,  by  the  zoospores  of  the  Myxo- 
mycetes—ani  characteristically  by  those  large  aggregates  of  cells 
which  constitute  the  plasmodia  of  this  group  of  Fungi.  The  pseudo- 
podia are  throivn  out  at  first  as  protrusions  of  the  denser  hyaline 
outer  layer  of  the  mass  of  jTotoplasm,  the  ectoplasm,  and  into  this 
the  more  watery  granular  internal  protoplasn\ic  substance,  the 
endoplasm,  gradually  flows.  The  repeated  formation  of  pseudopodia 
iri  any  given  direction  will  result  in  locomotion  taking  place  in  that 
direction.  The  ciliary  movement  is  characteristic  of  zoosjiores  and 
of  anthcrozoids.  In  some  cases  the  organism,  as  in  the  case»of  Folvox 
and  Pandm-ina,  passes  a  large  part  of  its  existence  in  the  mobile 
condition,  and  then  the  protoplasm  is  enclosed  within  a  cell-wall 
which  is  perforated  by  the  cilia.  The  number  of  cilia  may  be  only 
one  ;  more  commonly  in  zoospores  it  is  two,  and  sometimes  four  ; 
occasionally  the  cilia  are  numerous,  as  in  the  zoospores  of  Vaucheria 
a.nd  (Edoc/onium  ;  in  anthcrozoids  they  are  usually  numerous.  The 
cilia  are  constantly  performing  a  lashing  movement,  which  causes 
the  organism  to  move  forward  and  at  the  same  time  to  rotate  on 
its  own  axis. 

In  considering  the  movements  of  protoplasm  when  enclosed 
within  a  cell-wall,  the  typical  structure  of  a  plant-cell,  as  described 
at  the  beginning  of  this  section  (p.  44),  must  be  borne  in  mind.  In 
many  cells  the  vacuole  is  found  to  bo  traversed  by  protoplasmic 
filaments  which  extend  between  one  part  of  the  primordial  utricle 
and  another.  These  filaments  are  continually  varying  in  number, 
in  position,  and  in  size  ;  they  are  formed  and  withdra.wn  in  tlie  same 
manner  as  the  pseudopodia  of  naked  masses  of  protoplasm.  This 
kind  of  movement  is,  in  fact,  amoeboid  movement  exhibited  by 
protoplasm  enclosed  within  a  cell-waU.  In  all  actively  living  ]iroto- 
plasm,  whether  naked  or  enclosed  in  a  cell-wall,  a  streaming  of  the 
more  fluid  endoplasm  can  be  observed,  the  direction  and  rapidity 
of  the  current  being  clearly  shown  -by  the  granules  whicli  are 
carried  along  in  it  This  is  very  conspicuous  in  closed  cells  (as 
in  leaf-cells  of  Vallisncria  spiralis  and  root-hairs  of  BydrcKharia 
iforsils  lianm)  when  the  wholo  of  the  cndoDlasm  rotates  in  a  con- 
stant direction. 

Movemenls  of  Mobile  Orjaiis.-^With  regard  now  to  the  movement* 
exhibited  by  mobile  organs,  to  the  "movements  of  variation  "as 
they  are  sometimes  termed,  — eometimos  they  are  spontaneous,. like 
the  protopl.ismic  movements  just  considered  ;  in  other  cases  they 
are  only  performed  in  consequence  of  stimulation  :  they  are  induced 
Instances  of  spontaneous  movements  of  variation  art,  for  reasons  to 
bo  given  hereafter,  comparatively  rare.  A  case  in  point  is  afforded 
by  the  Telegraph  Plant,  Jlrdysarum  (Dtsmodium)  gyrans.  Under 
favourable  conditions,  particularly  of  tomporature,  the  two  latent 
leaflets  of  the  trifoliolate  leaf  move  upwards  and  downwards,  their 


62 


PHYSIOLOGY 


[VKGETABLE. 


npiees  describing  nearly  a  circle,  a  revolution  taking  from  two  to  fire 
minutes.  '  A  familiar  example  of  an  induced  movement  is  afforded 
by  the  leaves  of  the  Sensitive  Plant  {Mimosa  }ntdica).  AVhen  a  leaf 
is  touched  the  lateral  leaflets  close  in  paire,  folding  upwards  and 
forwards,  and,  if  the  stimulus  be  strong  enough,  the  main  petiole 
sinks  downwards.  The  movement  of  this  plant  is  of  special  interest, 
inasmuch  as  it  affords  an  instance  of  the  transmission  of  a  stimulus. 
It  suffices,  namely,  to  touch  the  terminal  leaflet  to  cause  the  closing 
of  the  successive  pairs  of  lateral  leaflets  and  the  sinking  down  of 
the  main  petiole.  Another  example  of  induced  movement  is  afforded 
by  the  so-called  "sleep"  of  plants;  the  leaves  of  many  plants, 
namely,  take  up  during  the  night  a  position  different  from  that 
which  they  take  up  during  the  day.  Taking  the  Sensitive  Plant  as 
an  example,  during  the  clay  its  leaflets  are  widely  expanded,  and 
its  main  petioles  are  directed  obliquely  upwards  ;  at  night  its 
leaflets  are  folded,  together  and  its  main  petioles  are  directed 
obliquely  downwards  ;  it  takes  up  at  night,  in  fact,  a  position 
similar  to  that  which  is  induced  by  a  touch.  Excessive  illumina- 
tion tends  to  induce  closing.  Other  examples  are  afforded  by  the 
mobile  stamens  of  the  Cyimrcic  and  of  Berbcris  and  Mahoaia. 

The  relation  of  these  movements  to  external  conditions  is  as 
follows  : — 
External      1.   T^imyjcradii'c.-^Theso  movements,  like  the  slow  movement  of 
condi-      growth,  only  take  place  within  certain  limits  of  temperature,  \vhich, 
tions  of   however,  vary  in  different  cases.     Movements  of  protoplasm,  spoak- 
these        ing  generally,  will  only  go  on  at  temperatures  between  0°  and  50°  C, 
move-      and  between  these  limits  there  is  an  optimum  temperature  at  which 
Dients.     they  are  most  rapid.     In  the  case-  of  movements  of  variation  the 
lower  limit  lies  cou-siderably  higher,  from  15°  to  20°  C.     The  fore- 
going illustrates  the  tonic  relation  between  temperature  and  move- 
ment.    Sudden  changes  of  temperature  have  a  stimulating  effect. 
For  instance,  Dutrochet  observed  that  the  protoplasm  of  the  inter- 
nodal  cells  of  a  Chara  exhibited  rotation  in  water  at  7°  C,  which 
60on  ceased  when  the  plant  was  placed  in  water  at  32°  C. ;  after  some 
time  the  movement  returned,  and  was  again  arrested  on  replacing 
the  plant  in  water  at  7°  C. 

■  2.  Li(j!U. — In  most  cases  of  protoplaBmic  movements  light  ap- 
pears to  exert  no  influence  ;  in  other  cases  it  exerts  a  tonic  influ- 
ence. For  instance,  Engelmann  biis  discovered  a  form  of  Bacterium, 
termed  by  him  Bacterium  photomelricum,  which  is  only  mobile 
when  exposed  to  light.  Again,  organs  which  exhibit  spontaneous 
movements  of  variation,  like  the  leaflets  of  Hcdysarum,  or  induced 
movements,  like  the  leaflets  of  Mimosa,  lose  their  power  of  move- 
ment when  kept  in  darkness  for  a  day  or  two.  Exposure  to  light, 
or,  as  it  is  termed,  the  state  of  "phototouus,"  is  an  essential  condi- 
tion of  their  movement.  Bright  light  tends  to  arrest  movement. 
For  instance,  the  protrusion  of  pseudopodia  by  the  Plasmodium  of 
.^haliiim  scpticum  is  less  active  in  light  than  in  darkness.  This 
is  well  shown  in  the  sleep  of  plants,  alluded  to  above.  The  "diurnal 
position  "  of  the  leaves  is  due  to  exposure  to  light,  the  "  nocturnal 
position  "  to  its  absence.  This  is  perhaps  most  clearly  exhibited 
,  by  the  Sensitive  Plant.  Under  the  normal  alternation  of  day  and 
night  the  leaves  assume  alternately  the  diurnal  and  nocturnal 
positions.  If  a  plant  be  kept  for  some  time  in  darkness,  at  a  suit- 
able temperature,  it  will  be  found  that  the  leaves  exhibit  periodic 
movements  of  opening  and  closing.  They  are,  in  fact,  endowed, 
like  those  of  the  Telegraph  Plant,  with  the  power  of  spontaneous 
movement,  which  is  arrested  when  the  plant  is  exposed  to  light. 
Variations  in  the  intensity  of  light  act  as  stimuli.  For  instance,  a 
sudden  variation  will  cause  the  closing  of  the  leaves  of  Mimosa. 
Light  also  exercises  a  directive  influence  on  mobile  protoplasm  in 
some  cases.  For  instance,  when  -bright  light  falls  obliquely  on  a 
Plasmodium  of  ^iJthaUmn  scpticum,  it  causes  it  to  creep  away  from 
the  light.  Again,  the  chlorophyll-corpuscles  in  the  cells  of  leaves 
exposed  to  bright  light  are  fmmd  to  accumulate  on  those  surfaces 
of  the  cells  which  are  least  exposed,  to  assume  what  is  termed  the 
position  of  "  apostrophe,"  a  change  of  position  which  is  due  to  move- 
ments in  the  protoplasm  in  which  the  corpuscles  are  embedded. 
Finally,  the  direction  of  movement  of  ciliated  zoospores  swimming 
.in  water  is  affected  by  light.  AVlien  light  falls  obliquely  upon  a 
vessel  of  water  containing  zoospores,  they  place  themselves  so  .that 
their  long  axes  arc  more  or  less  nearly  parallel  to  the  direction  of 
the  incident  rays,  and  it  is  along  this  line  that  they  move.  They 
may  either  move  towards  the  incident  light  or  away  from  it,  the 
direction  being  apparently  determined  by  the  intensity  of  the  light, 
by  the  age  of  the  zoospores,  and  by  the  amount  of  oxygen  in  the 
water.  Protoplasmic  masses  which  respond  to  the  directive  action 
of  light  are  said  to  be  "  phototactic. " 

3. .  Other  Stimuli. — It  has  been  mentioned  that  movements  miur 
be  induced  in  the  Sensitive  Plant  by  mechanical  stimulation,  by 
variations  of  temperature,  and  variations  in  the  intensity  of  light. 
They  may  also  te  induced  by  electrical  and  chemical  stimuJi.  The 
effect  of  an  electrical  stimulus  on  protoplasm  exhibiting  the  amoeboid 
movement  is  to  cause  retraction  of  the  pseudopodia.  It  arrests  also 
the  rotating  movement  of  the  protoplasm  for  a  time. 

4.  Oxygen. — The  presence  of  oxygen  is  an  essential  condition  of 
movement  of  any  kind,  in  the  cnsse  at  least  of  aerobiotic  plauts. 


It  appears  thai  anaerobiotic  plants  {Schizomycclcs)  are  mobile  in 
the  absence  of  oxygen. 

Nature  and  Mechanism  of  irovements. — On  comparing  the  state- 
ments which  have  been  made  above  as  to  the  movements  of  grow- 
ing organs  and  of  mature  mobile  organs,  their  general  similarity 
is  at  once  apparent.  The  spontaneous  movement  of  growth  is 
comparable  to  the  spontaneous  movements, of  protoplasm  and  of 
mobile  organs,  and  the  performance  of  the  former  is  dependent 
upon  the  same  external  conditions  as  the  latter.  The  reaction  to 
the  influence  of  external  agents  is  the  same  In  many  instances  ; 
for  example,  strong  light  arrests  growth,  and  it  arrests  also  the 
spontaneous  movements  of  the  leaves  of  Mimosa  and  other  plants, 
and  contact  stimulates  tendrils  as  it  stimulates  the  leaves  of  the  j 
Sensitive  Plant.  Again,  light  exercises  a  directive  influence  on  the 
growth  of  growing  organs  ;  it  also  exercises  a  directive  influence  on 
the  movements  of  zoospores  and  plasmodia.  These  considerations 
lead  to  the  conclusion  that  the  causes  of  the  movements  must  in  all 
cases  be  the  same. 

It  has  been  already  pointed  out  that  growth  and  movement  are 
expressions  of  the  expenditure  of  energy  on  the  part  of  the  organism, 
that  they  are  dependent  upon  the  decomposition  of  some  complex 
substance  forming  part  of,  or  at  least  present  in,  the  protoplasm. 
The  conditions  which  are  essential  to  movement  of  any  kind  are, 
then,  these  :  that  the  decomposable  substance  in  question  is  formed 
and  decomposed  in  suflficient  quantity,  in  other  words,  that  the 
protoplasm  is  irritable  ;  that  the  protoplasm  is  capable  of  mani- 
festing by  a  molecular  change,  which  may  be  accompanied  by  a 
change  in  external  form,  the  evolution  of  energy  attending  the 
decomposition  ;  and,  finally,  in  the  case  of  protoplasm  surrounded 
by  a  cell-wall,  that  the  anatomical  structure  is  such  as  to  permit 
of  a  movement  ensuing  upou  the  change  in  the  protoplasm.  It  is 
clear  that,  if  the  cell-wall  is  rigid,  no  change  in  the  protoplasm  can 
cause  a  change  in  form  of  the  cell  as  a  whole. 

We  may  regard  spontaneous   movement   as   being  due   to  the  Spoa 
spontaneous  decomposition  of  the  decomposable  substance  whereby  taueo^ 
the  protoplasm  undergoes  'a  molecular  change.      The  automatic  move- 
decomposition  not  unfrequently  takes  place,  as  in  the  case  of  the  ment. 
TelcCTaph  Plant,  at  regular  intervals,  so  that  the  movement  is 
rhythmic  or  periodic.    Spontaneous  movement  is  inost  active  when 
a  certain  favourable  combination  of  external  conditions  is  ensured  ; 
any  variation  in  the  combination  leads  to  a  diminution  in  the 
activity,  or  even  to  complete  arrest,  of  the  movement.     External 
conditions  may  affect  the  process  either  of  formation  or  of  decom- 
position of  the  decomposable  substance.     For  instance,  movements 
are  arrested  at  a  low  temperature,  most  probably  because  either  the 
formation  of  the  decomposable  substance  or  the  necessary  explosive 
decomposition  does  not  take  place  under  such  circumstances  with 
sufficient  activity.     Again,  when  movement  is  arrested  at  a  high 
temperature,  or  by  continuous  darkness,  it  is  probably  for  similar 
reasons.     In  this  way  the  tonic  effect  of  external  conditions  may 
be  accounted  for.     The  stimulating  effect  of  external  agents  mav  be 
accounted  for  in  a  similar  manner. 

Movement,  whether  spontaneous  or  induced,  is  regarded  as  a 
phenomenon  of  contractility  (see  above,  p.  13),  but  we  have  at 
present  no  knowledge  of  the  exact  nature  of  the  molecular  changes 
which  constitute  a  contraction.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  not 
only  that.protoplasm  contracts,  but  that,  after  contraction,  it  returns 
to  its  condition  of  rest.  Spontaneous  movement  is  the  expression 
of  automatic  contraction.  External  tonic  conditions  either  promote 
or  retard  movement,  by  either  promoting  or  retarding  contraction 
and  recovery.     Stimuli  induce  contraction. 

The  mechanism  of  the  movcmeitts  of  protoplasm-masses  appears 
to  be  as  follows.  Taking  first  the  case  of  the  amceboid  movement, 
the  protrusion  of  pseudopodia  is  due  to  a  molecular  change,  of  the 
nature  of  a  contraction  of  the  protoplasm,  which  takes  place  in  the 
ectoplasm  at  the  spot  where  the  pseudopodium  is  to.be  formed,  an 
elevation  being  gradually  produced  into  which  the  more  fluid  endo- 
plasm  is,  as  it  were,  sucked.  The  rotating  movement  of  protbplasm 
appears  to  depend  upon  a  kind  of  amceboid  movement  taking  place 
constantly  in  one  direction, — to  be,  that  is,  a  creeping  movement. 
Ciliaiy  movement  appears  to  depend  on  the  alternate  contractioi> 
of  each  longitudinal  half  of  the  cilium.  It  is  not  possible  at  present 
to  attempt  any  explanation  of  the  directive  influence  of  light  on 
moving  protoplasm,  but  the  fact  itself  is  of  great  physiological 
importance. 

The  mechanism  of  the  movements  of  organs,  whether  unicellular 
or  multicellular,  in  which  the  cell-wall  has  to  be  considered  is 
more  complicated.  The  cells  possess  the  strutjtnre  described  above  : 
they  consist  of  a  cell -wall  lined  by  the  protoplasmic  primordial 
utricle  enclosing  the  cell-sap.  They  are,  moreover,  iu  a  st.ite  of 
turgidity, — that  is,  they  are  tensely  filled  vni\\  water.  The  state 
of  turgidity  in  a  cell  depends  upon  three  conditious, — (1)  upon  a 
tendency  to  absorb  more  water  in .  consequence  of  the  presence  of 
osmotically  active  substances  dissolved  in  the  cell-sap  ;  (2)  upon 
the  resistance  offered  by  the  primordial  utricle  to  the  escape  of 
water  from  the  cell;  (3)  upon  the  elasticity  of  the,  cell -wall. 
The  elasticity  of  the  primordial  utricle  is  so  small  that  it  may  be 


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PHYSIOLOGY 


63 


Fi 


neglectetl.  The  growth  in  length  of  a  filament  of  Vauckeria  may 
be  taken  as  a  case  illustrative  of  the  importance  of  turgidity  as  a 
condition  of  growth  in  unicellular  organs.  This  growth  cannot  be 
attributed  to  a  greater  hydrostatic  pressure  at  the  apex  of  the  cell, 
for  the  pressure  is  necessarily  the  same  at  all  points,  and  clearly  it 
cannot  do  referred  to  a  diminished  resistance  on  the  part  of  the 

rimordial  utricle  to  the  passage  outwards  of  water  at  that  point. 

t  must  be  referred  t6  the  cell-wall,  and  it  can  only  be  accounted 
for  on  the  assumption  that  the  elasticity  of  the  cell-wall  is  less  at 
the  apex  than  at  any  other  point  of  its  surface. 

Growth  is  not,  however,  to  be  regarded  as  the  result  merely  of 
the  mechanical  expansion  of  the  cell  which  is  rendered  permanent. 
There  is  every.reasou  to  believe  that  the  protoplivsm  takes  an  active 
part  in  producing  this  expansion,  and  in  determining  the  direction 
in  which  expansion  shall  more  particularly  take  place.  The  arrest 
of  growth  by  strong  light  is  a  case  in  point.  There  is  no  reason  to 
believe  that  this  is  to  bo  ascribed  to  an  increased  rigidity  of  the 
cell-wall,  or  to  a  diminution  of  the  attraction  of  the  cell-sap  for 
■water.  It  can  only  be  ascribed  to  a  molecular  change  in  the  proto- 
plasm, which  causes  it  to  offer  considerable  resistance  to  any  change 
of  form,  either  spontaneous  or  such  as  is  induced  by  the  hydro- 
sta,tic  pressure.  The  arrest  of  growth  which,  as  we  have  seen, 
usually  occurs  when  leaves  are  kept  in  continuous  darkness  is 
another  case  in  point.  The  arrest  of  growth  of  the  cells  under  these 
circumstances  cannot  be  referred  to  a  change  in  the  physical  pro- 
perties of  either  the  cell-wall  or  the  cell-sap,  but  must  be  attri- 
buted to  a  change  in  the  molecular  condition  of  the  protoplasm. 

The  phenomena  of  heterauxesis,  spontaneous  and  induced,  have 
now  to  be  considered.  It  will  be  convenient  to  deal  with  induced 
lieterauxesis  first,  and  .ve  will  begin  with  the  case  of  a  unicellular 
organ.  It  has  been  mentioned  that  heterauxesis,  in  the  form  of 
curvature,  is  induced  by  the  action  of  light,  gravity,  &c.  In- 
asmuch as  the  hydrostatic  pressure  is  necessaiily  the  same  at  all 
points  of  the  internal  surface  of  the  cell,  .the  curvature  must 
depend  upon  a  local  variation  of  the  properties  either  of  the  cell- 
wall  or  of  the  protoplasm.  In  the  case  of  the  cell-wall  either  its 
rigidity  is  increased  on  one  side,  the  concave,, or  its  extensibility 
increased  on  the  other,  the  convex.  It  is  just  conceivable,  with 
re^'ard  to  the  action  of  light,  that  such  a  difference  in  properties 
might  be  induced  by  the  more  direct  exposure  of  one  side  of  a  deli- 
cate filament  to  light,  though  the  diff'crtnce  of  intensity  on  the  two 
sides  would  be  very  small.  But  it  is  not  at  all  conceivable  that 
such  a  difference  could  he  induced  by  the  action  of  gravity,  and  no 
explanation  can  he  regarded  as  satisfactory  which  fails  to  meet  all 
cases,  of  curvature.  The  cause  of  tlie  curvature  is  doubtless  to  be 
sought  in  the  protoplasm.  Unilateral  ilUmiination  of  the  organ, 
or  an  abnormal  relation  to  the  line  of  action  of  gravity,  acts  as  a 
stimulus  on  the  organ  and  causes  an  alteration  in  the  properties  of 
its  protoplasm,  which  is  nerhaps  of  such  a  nature  that  it  becomes 
relatively  rigid  on  the  side  which  becomes  concave.  The  induced 
heterauxesis  of  multicellular  organs  is  certainly  of  essentially  the 


same  natui-e  as  that  of  unicellular  organs.  Applying  too  above 
explanation  of  the  curvature  of  unicellular  organs  to  multicellular 
organs,  the  conclusion  to  be  drawn  would  be  that  the  curvature 
of  the  latter  is  due  to  the  induction  of  the  same  changes  in  the 
protoplasm  in  each  of  their  growing  cells. 

The  phenomenon  of  spontaneous  heterauxesis,  as  exnibited  -in 
nutation,  may  be  accounted  for  in  precisely  the  same  way,  but  it  J3 
possible  to  imagine  that  it  may  be  due  to  some  extent  in  the  case 
of  unicellular  organs  to  local  variations  in  tlie  extensibility  of  the 
cell-wall,  and  in  that  of  multicellular  organs  to  variations  in  the 
extensibility  of  the  cell-walls  of  groups  of  cells  on  different  sides  of 
the  organ. 

The  phenomenon  exhibited  by  mature  mobile  organs,  sucn  as  the 
leaves  of  the  Sensitive  Plant,  &c.,  remains  finally  to  be  considered. 
The  movement  of  the  leaf  as  a  whole  is  etiected  by  a  group  of  cells, 
constituting  a  swelling,  the  pzihimts,  at  the  insertion  of  the  main 
petiole,  and  of  each  leaflet  by  a  similar  organ  at  its  attarhment-to 
the  main  petiole.  The  structure,  of  the  pulvinus  is  briefly. a  mass 
of  parenchymatous  cells  having  the  same  structure  as  that  described 
above,  traversed  by  a  strand  of  flexible"  fibro-vascular  tissue,  "NYJjen 
the  leaf  is  fully  expanded,  its  position  is  maintained  by  an  equality 
between  the  downward  pressure  of  the  portion  of  the  pulvinus  above 
the  fibro-vascular  strand  and  the  upward  pressure  of  the  portion 
below  it.  The  downward  movement  of  the  leaf  as  a  whole  is  due 
to  a  sudden  diminution  of  the  upward  pressure  of  the  lower  portion 
ofthe  main  pulvinus  ;  similarly,  the  upward  movement  of  a  leaflet 
is  due  to  the  sudden  diminution  of  the  downward  pressure  of  the 
upper  portion  of  its  pulvinus.  In  both  cases  the  diminution  of 
pressure  is  due  to  a  los^  of  turgidity  of  the  portion  of  the  pulvinus 
concerned  :  the  cells  become  naccid.  This  loss  of  turgidity  has 
been  shown  to  be  dne  to  an  escape  of  water  from  the  cells,  which 
can  only  be  accounted  for  by  ascribing  it  to  a  change  in  the  molecular 
condition  of  their  protoplasm.  In  spontaneous  movements  this 
change  is  induced  automatically,  in  induced  movements  by  the 
action  of  a  stimulus.  This  molecular  change  is  probably  of  such 
a  kind  that  the  i)rotoplasm  takes  up  water  into  itself,  and  at  the 
sam3  time  allows  it  to  pass  through.  The  recovery  of  turgidity  is 
slow.  The  arrest  of  movement  which  is  induced  by  long-continued 
darkness  or  by  exposure  to  light  is  probably  due  to  the  prevention 
of  the  occurrence  of  molecular  change  in  the  protoplasm.  The  con- 
duction of  a  stimulus,  which  undoubtedly  taJces  place  in  the  leaves 
of  the  Sensitive  Plant,  and  probably  in  many  other  plant-organs 
(see  above  on  heliotropism,  geotropism,  hydrotropism,  tendrils),  is 
effected  by  means  of  the  delicate  filaments  of  protoplasm  which,  as 
Gardiner  has  clearly  shown  in  the  pulvinus,  are  conti^iuous  between 
Hie  protoplasm-bodies  of  adjacent  cells.,  , 

For  the  reproduction  of  plants,  see  RrPKODUCTiON. 

Literature. — The  following  works  on  the  ytliysiolo»y  of  plants  maybe  coa« 
BOlteJ,  — Sachs,  Lehrbuch  (iti  Kng.  ocl.,  Oxford,  ISS'2)  and  Vork$ti.tnjcnu.iff 
Pfiinzcnphysiologie  ^Leipsic,  1SS2) ;  VicU'cT,  rjtanienpkysiologie  (Leipsic,  H"*!; 
Van  Tieghem,  Traitede  Botanique  (Paris,  1SS4);  Darwin,  Ciimhitig  i'/nu^s  CJ'^^'i) 
niul  7Vie  I'owcr  of  Movement  in  Plants  (1B80).  (S.  E.  V.) 


Index  to  Physiology. 


Absorpllbn,  of  gases,  45. 
law  of.  45. 
.  Qf  Wfttcr,  4-1. 
"atins  QctioDs,  20. 
Alkaloids,  53. 
Amities,  64. 

AonboJiHin,  18,  IP,  22.  40. 
AnacrMbiotlc  i)Iiints,  b\. 
Anastates,  10,  20. 
Ajiiiiial  s]>irits,  10. 
Aroniatlc  substances,  52. 
Ash  of  plants,  4^,  40. 
Basal  ganglia,  37. 
liitter  priuciijU'S   53. 
niood-vcsikjls,  iutiu(;ncoofncrvcson,30. 
Brain,  devclopincut  vf,  »2,  83. 

„      phytiiologicitl  atiatoniy  of,  31  32. 
„      r\zq  and  weight  of,  39. 
Canc-stigar,  54. 
Carbon  dloxiilp,  45. 
Cellcoutcnts,  11. 
CcM-incmbiane,  "11. 
Cells,  functlonH  of  In  plants,  44. 

,i      Btructurc  of,  44. 
CoU-Sftp,  44, 
Ccll-thcory,  11. 
Cfll-walls,  43,  03. 
Central  nervous  organs,  20,  27. 
CerebellTim,  32,  8». 

Corobr&l     bcnilsphorcs,    phyBloIoKlcnl 
anatomy  of,  3y. 
„  „         removal  of.  40. 

„        p«dunclca,  37. 
,,        vosloleK,  31. 
Cerenrum,  cnmrniusural  flbrcs  of,  40. 
„         longitudinal  fibres  of,  40. 
,,  Li^dunculur  fibres  of,  39. 

Chlorophyll,  48,  52,  53, 
Circinatc  vernation,  58. 
Circulation,  in  brain,  42. 
„  osmotic,  4fi. 

Colouring  niattci-s  in  I'lnnts.  52. 


Conficionsnesn,  20,  41. 

Contact  in  plants,  60. 
Contractility  of  protoi>lasm,  13,  C2. 
Corpora  quadrigeiiiinn,  32,  37. 

„       striata,  31,  37. 
Corpus  calloHuui,  31. 
Craniiil  nerves,  30,  42. 
darwinian  ciu'vature,  CO. 
DcprcHsor  nerve,  SO. 
Ectodorin  culls,. 14, 16^,  -  i 

Electr^Cfl'  stimulation  ofcercbrAlhcmi- 
.iphcres,  40. 
„  „  of  nerves,  24  sq. 

Electricity  In  iilantn,  50. 
Electrutonua,  24,  25. 
£nccphalun,  S2. 
Endoderm  cells,  14,  15. 
Energy,  arcumulation  of  In  plants,  50. 

,,        dLsNipatioD  of  in  ])lAnt.H.  50. 

,,       source  of  bodily,  0. 

,,        supply  of  in  plants,  55  ^7. 
Epinasty,  58,  CO. 
Equilibrium,  sense  of,  38,  30. 
Excitability  of  grey  matter,  28. 

,,  of  nerves,  24. 

Excretion,  glandular,  63. 

,,  nectary,  53. 

EKperimcnta^  metlmd,  S3. 
Expciimenta,  on  cerebellum,  88. 
,,  on  cca'bnnn,  40. 

,,  electrical,  24,  25,  20,  41. 

Fats  in  plants,  61. 
Katty  bodies,  53. 
Fermentiilion,  51. 
Ferments,  unorganizrd,  50. 
Fcrrier's  experiments,  41. 
Fixed-light  position,  58. 
Food,  9. 

,,      of  plont.i,  4<l,  40 
Functiuii,  10. 
fJahannfropism,  CO. 
Geotropism,  50. 


Glands,  influence  of  nerves  on,  30. 

Glucose,  64. 

Goltz's  experiments,  41, 

Gravity,  influence  on  growth  of  plant.% 

58,  69. 
Grey  matter  of  nerves,  23,  35. 

,,  ,,  an-aiigemcDt  and 

structure  of,  40. 
Growth  of  plants,  57  w/. 

„  „  direction  of,  58. 

,,  ,,  rata  of,  57. 

Heart,  nervous  arrangement  of,  29. 
Iloat,  in  ncrvea,  30. 

,,     source  of  plant-cnergj',  50 
ndiotropism,  5S.  50. 
Hering's  speculations,  22. 
Iletomuxesis,  5S,  03. 
riydrotjMpism,  00. 
II>'|ionasty,  58,  CO. 
Inhibition,  22,  20,  35. 
Internal  cnpsnle,  37, 
Initabllity,  of  nerves,  24. 

,,  of  protoplRBm,  13. 

Katabolism,  13,  10  sy.,  50. 
Katastatcs,  li>,  20. 
LnticifcrouB  tissue  and  (ells,  48. 
Light,  influence  on  growth  of  plants,  57. 
„  „  movement  of  plants, 

C.2.    . 
,,  „  iranspirntlon,  40. 

„      souroo  of plantrni?rg>',  55,  50. 
Medulla  oblongata,  32,  35. 

, ,  ,,  as  coniluctor  of  ner- 

vous Impresslousj 
36. 
,,  „  nocIH  of,  36. 

,,  ,,  physioUtj-ical    onn- 

tonty  of,  3(J. 
„  „         as  reflex  centre,  30. 

McHostatcs,  10. 

Metabolism,  constructive,  19.  49. 
,,  destructive,  13,  50. 


Molecular  actions,  18. 

,,         changes  in  muscle,  10. 
„  ,,         nervous         sul^ 

stance,  19. 
Motor  areas,  41. 

,,     ccntros  in  brain-cortex,  41. 
,,      uervea.  8,  24. 
Movement,  of  body,  8. 

„  Co-ordination  of,  38. 

„  in  ph\uts,  50,  57  »q,,  62. 

„  protoplasmic,  13,  01. 

f,  of  variation,  CI. 

Muscles,  contraction  of,  S,  24  sq. 
Negative  pressure,  47. 
Nerve-cells,  27. 
Nerve-currents,  nature  of,  2.^,  2(J. 

„  „  -'■•'.  25.  2«. 

Nerves,  chei  u  of,  24,28 

„       das 

„       con»l ■.._•  ■  ;,  -J. 

,,      electrical  plieuomcna  of,  2dL 
„       nutrition  of,  2tf. 
„       origia  of  in  medulla,  3^. 
,,       stimuli  of,  24. 
„       btrncturo  of,  23. 
Nervous  centrcH,  28,  80. 

,,  „       claasiricatlon  of,  80. 

„       Impulses,  8,  20, 
,,        ayittcm,  8.  23  $q.,  SO  .09, 
.,  ,,        compnintive  view  of, 

in       invtrtcbratcs, 
SO.  31. 
,,  ,,        comparntive  vlow  of, 

in  vctlcbratof,  81, 
32. 
^       tissue.  28. 
Nouus  cursoriuH,  36. 
Nucleus  caudatufl,  37. 
„         of  cell,  11. 

„       lonticularis,  87. 
NMtAtion,  M. 
Optic  tlialoml,  31,  37, 


64 


P  H  Y  —  P  I  A 


Index  to  Physiology  {continueil). 


DrgAiiic  adtls,  5"2. 

substance  in  plants.  47,  J 
Organs.  10,  ^4. 

bilateral,  5S,  .'59. 

,,        doisiventral;  6S,  59 

„        ortliotropic,  01. 

„        plagiotrnpic,  01. 

,,        ra'lial,  58,  TiO. 
f/\,       terminal,  27. 
psitiosis,  44. 
^xiilation.  of  body,  0. 
Jfc*^  ,,  in  plants,  51. 

J3C)'gen  in  plants,  45,  G2. 
^ei'iplieral  impressions,  3(1. 
PHtiger's  law  of  contraction,  24, 
Physiology,  definition  of,  8. 
I        „  nietliotis  of.  22. 

*        „  problems  of,  9,  16. 

pillars  of  fornix,  31. 


Plastic  prodncts,  51,  54. 
Pons  Varolii,  32,  30. 
Primordial  utricle,  44. 
Pruteitls,  54. 
Protoplasm,  12,  21. 

,,  assimilation  of,  13. 

,,  of  plants,  43 

Protoplasmic  theory,  12 
Pulvinns,  03. 
Rectipetality,  58. 
Reflex  actions,  28,  29. 
,,      centres,  35,  36. 
Reserve  materials,  54,  56. 
Respiration,  51. 
Root,  strnctnre  cf,  46. 
Root-haiis,  44,  46. 
Root. pressure,  40. 
Secretion,  11,  17,  13. 
Semicircular  canals,  3S. 


Sen.sorj*  centres  in  l)rain-cortex,  41. 

,,       nerves,  8,  25. 
Somatotropism,  00. 
Spinal  cord,  jihysical  anatomy  of,  34. 
,,         ,,      ,is  reflex  centre,  35. 
,,         ,,      as  transmitter  of  nervous 

impressions.  34. 
„         ,,      as  trophic  centre,  35. 
,,      nerves,  43. 
starch  in  plants,  54. 
Stimuli,  of  nerves,  24  S7. 

,,       nf  plant-movement, 
Stoniata,  45  57. 
Sympathetic  system,  43. 
Temperature,  influence  of  on  growthof 
plants,  57. 
,,  inrtnenceof  on  movement 

of  plants,  62. 
Tendrils,  twining  of,  00- 


Tetanns,  25. 
Thermotropism,  ,59. 
Tissues,  12. 

,,       constitution  of,  JG. 
Transpiration.  40. 

,,  cniTent  of,  47, 

Unipolar  excitation,  25. 
Vacuole,  44. 
Vagi  electrotonus.  25. 
Vascular  .system,  10. 
Vaso-inhibitnry  neivcs.  30. 
Vaso-motor  tibres,  30. 
Velocity,  measurement  of  "in  uerres, 

2J,  20. 
Vital  spiwts,  10. 
Waller's  law,  26. 
Waste-products,  51,  54. 
Water-culture,  48. 
White  matter  of  nerve.s.  2S.  35. 


, /PIACENZA  (Fr.,  Ptmsance ;  Lat.,  Flacentia),  a  city  of 
Italy,  a  bishop's  see,  and  the  chief  town  of  a  province,  lies 
bn  the  Lombard  plain,  217  feet  above  sea-level,  not  far 
from  the  right  bank  of  the  Po,  just  below  the  confluence 
of  the  Trebbia.  By  rail  it  is  43  miles  south-east  of  Milan 
and  3-5  i  north-west  of  Parma.  Formerly  a  place  of  con- 
siderable strength,  it  is  still  surrounded  by  walls  with 
bastions  and  fosse  in  a  circuit  of  4  miles.  The  cathedral 
was  erected  between  1122  and  1233,  in  the  Lombardo- 
Gothic  style,  under  the  direction  of  Santo  da  Sanibuceto, 
on  the  site  of  a  church  of  the  9th  century  which  had  been 
destroyed  by  Earthquake.  The  west  front  has  three  doors 
with  curious  pillared  porches.  The  campanile  is  a  massive 
square  brick  tower  223  feet  high  ;  the  iron  cage  attached 
to  one  of  its  windows  was  put  up  in  1495  by  Ludovico  il 
Moro  for  the  confinement  of  persons  guilty  of  treason  or 
sacrilege.  The  crypt  is  a  large  church  supported  by  one 
hundred  columns.  Sant'  Antonino,  which  was  the  cathedral 
church  till  877,  and  occupies  the  spot  where  it  was  reputed 
thut  St  Barnabas  preached  to  the  people,  was  built  by  St 
Victor,  the  first  bishop  of  Piacenza,  in  324,  restored  in  903, 
rebuilt  in  1104,  and  altered  in  1857.  It  was  within  its 
walls  that  the  deputies  of  the  Lombard  League  swore  to 
the  conditions  of  peace  ratified  in  1183  at  Constance. 
The  brick  vestibule  (II  Paradiso)  on  the  north  side  is  one 
of  the  older  parts  of  the  building.  San  Francesco,  a 
spacious  edifice  begun  by  the. Franciscans  in  1278,  occu- 
pies the  site  of  Ubertino  Landi's  palazzo,  and  is  famous  as 
the  place  where  Agostino  Landi  harangued  the  people  after 
the  murder  of  Pierluigi,  and  where  in  1848  the  deputies 
of  Piacenza  proclaimed  the  annexation  of  theif  city  to  the 
Sardinian  kingdom.  San  Sisto,  which  dates  from  1499, 
and  takes  the  place  of  the  church  founded  in  874  by 
Angilberga  (consort  of  the  emperor  Louis  II.)  for  the 
Benedictines,  lost  its  chief  attraction  when  Raphael's 
Sistine  Madonna  (now  in  Dresden)  was  sold  by  the  monks 
in  1754  to  Frederick  Augustus  III.  San  Sepolcro  and 
Sta  Maria  deUa  Campagna  are  both  after  Bramante's 
designs  ;  the  latter  is  rich  in  works  of  Pordenone.  Sant' 
Anna,  dating  from  1334,  was  the  church  of  the  barefooted 
Carmelites.  Of  the  secular  buildings  in  the  city  the  most 
interesting  is  the  Palazzo  Communale,  begun  in  1281.  In 
the  main  front  the  lower  story,  constructed  of  red  and 
white  marble,  presents  a  series  of  five  open  pointed  arcades  ; 
the  upper  story,  in  brick,  has  six  very  rich  round-arched 
windows,  each  of  five  lights ;  and  above  the  cornice  rise 
forked  battlements.  The  square  in  front  is  known  as  the 
Piazza  dei  Cavalli,  from  the  two  bronze  equestrian  statues 
of  Ranuccio  (1620)  and  his  father  Alexander,  prince  of 
Parma,  governor  of  the  Netherlands  (1625).  Both  were 
designed  by  Francesco  Mocchi.  The  Farnese  palace  was 
begun  after  Yigndla's  designs  by  Margaret  of  Austria  in 
1558;  but  it  was  never  completed,  and  since  1800  it  has 
been  used  as  barracks.     Other  buildings  or  institutions  of 


note  are  the  old  and  the  new  bishop's  palace,  the  fine 
theatre  designed  by  Lotario  Tomba  in  1803,  the  great 
hospital  dating  from  1471,  the  library  presented  to  the 
commune  in  1846  by  the  marquis  Ferdinando  Landi,  and 
the  Passerini  libn  ty  founded  in  168-1.  About  a  mile  to 
the  east  of  the  city  is  the  Collegio  Alberoni,  instituted  in 
1751  for  the  education  of  priests  and  mis.^ionaries.  At  a 
distance  of  about  2  miles  in  the  opposite  direction  the 
Trebbia  is  crossed  by  a  bridge  of  twenty-three  arches, 
erected  in  1825  at  a  cost  of  £47,000  ;  the  Austrians  blew 
up  two  of  the  arches  in  1859.  Piacenza  is  an  important 
point  in  the  Italian  railway  system — the  Lombardy,  Pied- 
mont, and  Ligurian  lines  meeting  there  with  those  of 
Central  Italy.  Silk,  cotton,  and  woollen  goods,  pottery, 
and  hats  are  among  the  local  manufactures.  The  popula- 
tion of  the  commune  (which  in  this  case  is  almost  exactly 
identical  with  the  city)  was  34.985  in  1871  and  34,987 
in  1881. 

Piacenza,  originally,  it  is  snp[ioscd,  a  Ligurian  and  afterwards  .1 
Gallic  town,  was  made  a  Roman  colony  in  219  B.C.  Whilf  its 
walls  were  yet  unfinished  it  had  to  repulse  an  attack  by  the  Gauls, 
whose  hopes  were  e.\cited  by  the  news  of  Hannibal's  approach,  am) 
in  the  latter  part  of  21 S  it  afforded  protection  to  the  remains  of 
tlie  Roman  army  under  Scipio  which  had  been  defeated  by  the 
Carthaginian  general  in  the  great  battle  on  the  Trebbia.  In  207  it 
withstood  a  protracted  siege  by  Hasdrubal,  Hannibal's  brother,  ami 
thus  contributed  largely  to  the  ultimate  success  of  tixe  Romans, 
Seven  years  later  the  Gauls  surprised  and  burned  the  city  ;  anil 
the  colony  was  so  di'^"'.inished  in  strength  that  in  190  it  had  to  be 
recruited  with  three  "thousand  far_iilies.  In  1£7  it  was  coiinectetl. 
with  Rimini  and  the  south  by  the  construction  of  the  .ffimilian 
Way.  During  the  later  republic  and  the  empire  Placentia  i-s 
named  in  connexion  with  a  defeat  of  the  forces  of  Marius  in  the 
neighbourhood  (82  B.C.),  a  mutiny  of  Julius  Ctesar's  garrison 
(49  B.C.),  another  mutiny  under  Augustus  (41  B.C.),  the  defence  of 
the  city  by  Spurinna,  Otho's  general,  against  Coecina,  Vitellius's- 
general  (69  A. D. ),  and  the  defeat  of  Aurelian  by  the  Marcomanni 
outside  the  walls  (271  A.D.).  In  546  Totila  reduced  Piacenza  by 
famine.  Between  997  and  1035  the  city  was  governed  by  its 
bishops,  who  had  received  the  title  of  count  from  Otho  III.  In 
the  latter  part  of  the  12th  centuiy  it  was  one  of  the  leadinp; 
merabei-s  of  the  Lombard  League.  For  the  most  p?,rt  it  remained 
Guelph,  though  at  times,  as  when  it  called  in  Galeazzo  Visconti,  it 
was  glad  to  appeal  to  a  powerful  Ghibelline  for  aid  against  its 
domestic  tyrants.  In  1447  the  city  was  captured  and  sacked  by 
Francesco  Sforza.  Having  placed  itself  directly  under  papal 
protection  in  1512,  it  was  in  1545  united  with  I'aEMA  {q.v.)  to 
form  an  hereditary  duchy  for  Pierluigi  Farnese,  son  of  Paul  III. 
In  1746  a  battle  between  the  Franco-Spanish  forces  and  the 
Austrians  was  fought  under  the  city  walls.  In  1848  Piacenza  was 
the  first  of  the  towns  of  Lombardy  to  join  Piedmont ;  but  it  was 
re-occupied  by  the  Austrians  and  had  to  wait  for  its  emancipation 
till  1859.  Lucius  Calpurnius  Piso  (father-in-law  of  Julius  Caesar), 
Pope  Gregory  X.,  and  Alexander  Farnese,  duke  of  Parma,  were 
natives  of  the  city.  Among  the  local  historians  are  Boselli,  Rossi, 
Bonara,  and  Gemmi. 

PIANOFORTE.'"  The  group  of  keyed  stringed  instru- 
ments, among  which  the  pianoforte  is  latest  in  order  of 
time,  has  been  invented  and  step  by  step  developed  with 
the  modern  art  of  music,  which  is  based  upon  the  simul- 
taneous employment  of  dififerent  musical  sounds.     In  the 


PIANOFORTE 


G5 


I  Otli  century  the  "  organum  "  arose,  an  elementary  system 
of  accompaniment  to  the  voice,  consisting  of  fourtlis  and 
octaves  below  tire  melody  and  moving  with  it;  and  the 
organ,  the  earliest  keyed  instniment,  was,  in  the  first 
instance,  the  rude  embodiment  of  this  idea  and  convenient 
means  for  its  expression.  'Jhere  was  as  yet  no  keyboard 
of  balanced  key  levers  ;  batons  were  drawn  out  like  modern 
draw-stops,  to  admit  the  compressed  air  necessary  to  make 
the  pi|ies  sound.  About  the  same  time  arose  a  large 
Ktringed  instrument,  the  organistrum,  the  parent  of  the 
now  vulgar  hurdy-gurdy  ;  as  the  organ  needed  a  blower 
as  well  as  an  organist,  so  the  player  of  the  organistrum 
required  a  handle-turner,  by  whose  aid  the  three  strings  of 
the  instrument  were  made  to  sound  simultaneously  upon 
a  wheel,  and,  according  to  the  well-known  sculptured 
relief  of  St  George  de  Boscherville,  one  string  was 
manipulated  by  means  of  a  row  of  stoi)pers  or  tangents 
pressed  inwards  to  produce  the  notes.  The  other  strings 
were  drones,  analogous  to  the  drones  of  the  bagjiipes,  and 
differing  in  effect  from  the  changing  "  organum  "  of  the 
organ.  In  the  11th  centurj-,  the  epoch  of  Guido  d'Arezzo, 
lo  whom  the  beginning  of  musical  notation  is  attributed, 
the  Pythagorean  monochord,  with  its  shifting  bridge,  was 
used  in  the  singing  schools  to  teach  the  intervals  of  the 
plain-song  of  the  church.  The  practical  necessity,  not 
merely  to  demonstrate  the  proportionate  relations  of  the 
intervals,  but  also  to  initiate  pupils  into  the  different  grada- 
tions of  the  church  tones,  had  soon  after  Guido's  time 
brought  into  use  quadruplex-fashioned  monochords,  which 
were  constructed  with  scales,  analogous  to  the  modern 
practice  with  thermometers  which  are  made  to  show  both 
Reaumur  and  Centigrade,  so  that  four  lines  indicated  as 
many  authentic  and  as  many  plagal  tones.  This  arrange- 
ment found  gi-eat  acceptance,  for  Aribo,  writing  about  fifty 
years  after  Guido,  says  that  few  monochords  were  to  be 
found  without  it.  Had  the 
clavichord  then  been  known,  this 
make -shift  contrivance  would 
not  have  been  used.  Aribo 
strenuously  endeavoured  to  im- 
prove it,  and  "by  the  grace  of 
God "  invented  a  monochord 
measure  which,  on  account  of 
the  rapidity  of  the  leaps  he 
could  make  with  it,  he  named 
a  wild-goat  (cnprea).  Jean  di- 
^uris  {Musira  Speculative, 
1323)  teaches  how  true  relations 
may  be  found  by  a  single- 
string  monochord,  but  recom- 
mends a  four-stringed  one,  pro- 
perly a  tetrachord,  to  gain  a 
knowledge  of  unfamiliar  inter- 
vals. He  describes  the  musical 
instruments  known  in  his  time, 
but  does  not  mention  the  clavi- 
chord or  monochord  with  keys, 
which  could  not  have  been  then  Fio. 
invented.     Perhai)s  one  of   the    ''    .  ,      „. ,,     .   „, 

I.  ,  .  m'-nt  fiom  St  .Mary  s,  Slirt'Wshuiy 

earliest  forms  of  such  an  mstru-   (pHiniiivo  cinviiiioid).     iittnru 

n,n..f    ;„  ...!.;»),  „*„,     „  1  l^''".    Drown  by  .MIm  Edith  Lloyd. 

ment,  m  which  stoppers  or  tan- 

gents  had  been  adopted  from  the  organistrum,  is  shown  in 
fig.  1,  from  U  wood  carving  of  a  vicar  choral  or  organist, 
preserved  in  St  Mary's  Cliurch,  Shrewsbury.  The  latest 
date  to  which  this  interesting  figure  may  bo  attributed  is 
1460,  but  the  conventional  representation  shows  that  the 
instrument  was  then  already  of  a  past  fashion,' although 
perh.ips  still  retained  in  u.se  and  familiar  to  the  carver. 

A  keyboard  of  balanced  keys  may  have  been  first  intro- 
duced in  the  little  portablo  oryin  known  as  the  regal  so 


tln^'  rcprcscn- 
sirhiKfd  InKtiu- 


often  represented  in  old  carvings,  paintings,  and  stained 
windows.  It  derived  its  name  regal  from  the  rule 
(reijula)  or  graduated  scale  of  keys,  and  its  use  was  to 
give  the  singers  in  religious  processions  the  note  or  pitch. 
The  only  instrument  of  this  kind  known  to  exist  in  the 
United  Kingdom  is  at  Blair  Athole,  and  it  bears  the  very 
late  date  of  1630.  The  Brussels  regal  may  bo  as  modern. 
These  are  instances  of  how  long  a  some-time  admired 
musical  instrument  may  remain  in  use  after  its  first  inten- 
tion is  forgotten.  We  attribute  the  adaptation  of  the 
narrow  regal  keyboard  to  what  was  still  called  the  mono- 
chord,  but  was  now  a  complex  of  monochords  over  one 
resonance  board,  to  the  latter  half  of  the  14th  century;  it 
was  accomplished  by  the  substitution  of  tangents  fixed  in 
the  further  ends  of  the  balanced  keys  for  the  movable 
bridges  of  the  monochord  or  such  stoppers  as  are  shown 
in  the  Shrewsbury  carving.  Thus  the  monochordiura  or 
"  payre  of  monochordis "  became  the  clavichordium  or 
"  payre  of  clavichordis  " — pair  being  applied,  in  the  old 
sense  of  a  "  pair  of  steps,"  to  a  series  of  degrees.  This  use 
of  the  word  to  imply  gradation  was  common  in  England 
to  all  keyed  instruments ;  thus  wc  read,  in  the  Tudor 
period  and  later,  of  a  pair  of  regal.s,  organs,  or  virginals. 

The  earliest  known  record  of  the  clavichord  occurs  in 
some  rules  of  the  minnesingers,  dated  1404,  preserved 
at  Vienna.  The  monochord  is  named  with  it,  showing  a 
differentiation  of  these  instruments,  and  of  them  from  the 
clavicymbalum,  the  keyed  cymbal,  cembalo  (Italian),  or 
psaltery.  From  this  we  learn  that  a  keyboard  had  been 
thus  early  adapted  to  that  favourite  mediasval  stringed 
instrument,  the  "  cembalo  "  of  Boccaccio,  the  "  sautrie  "  of 
Chaucer.  There  were  two  forms  of  the  psaltery: — (l)the 
trapeze,  one  of  the  oldest  representations  of  which  is  to  be 
found  in  Orcagna's  fariious  Trionfo  della  Morte  in  the 
Campo  Santo  at  Pisa,  and  another  by  the  same  painter  in 
the  National  Gallery,  London  ;  and  (2)  the  contemporary 
"  testa  di  porco,"  the  pig's  head,  which  was  of  triangular 
shape  as  the  name  suggests.  The  trapeze  psaltery  was 
strung  horizontally,  the  "  istromento  di  porco  "  either  hori- 
zontally or  vertically, — the  notes,  as  in  the  common  dul- 
cimer, being  in  groups  of  three  or  four  unisons.  In  tliese 
differences  of  form  and  stringing  we  see  the  cause  of  the 
ultimate  differentiation  of  the  spinet  and  harpsichord.  The 
compass  of  the  psalteries  was  nearly  that  of  Guido's  scale  ; 
but,  according  to  Mersenne,  the  lowest  interval  was  a 
fourth,  G  to  C,  which  is  worthy  of  notice  as  anticipating 
the  later  "short  measure"  of  the  spinet  and  organ. 

The  simplicity  of  the  clavichord  inclines  us  to  place  it, 
in  order  of  time,  before  the  clavicymbalum  or  clavicembalo; 
but  we  do  not  know  how  the  sounds  of  the  latter  were  at 
first  excited.  There  is  an  indication  as  to  its  early  form 
to  bo  seen  in  the  church  of  the  Certosa  near  Pavia,  which 
compares  in  probable  date  with  the  Shrewsbury  example. 
We  quote  the  reference  to  it  from  Dr  Ambros's  I/i.itoiy  of 
Music.  Ho  says  a  carving  represents  King  David  as  hold- 
ing an  "  istromento  di  porco '-  which  has  eight  strings  and 
as  many  keys  lying  parallel  to  them  ;  ho  touches  the  keys 
with  the  right  hand  and  damps  the  strings  with  the  left. 
The  attribution  of  archaism  applies  with  equal  force  to  this 
carving  as  to  the  Shrewsbury  one,  for  when  the  monastery 
of  Certosa  was  built  chromatic  keyboards,  which  imply  a 
considerable  advance,  were  already  in  use.  There  i.'i  an 
authentic  representation  >jS  a  chiomatic  keyboard,  painted 
not  later  than  142G,  in  the  St  Cecilia  jianel  (now  at  Berlin) 
of  the  famous  Adoration  of  the  Lamb  by  the  Van  Kycks. 
The  instrument  depicted  is  a  iiositivo  organ,  and  it  is 
interesting  to  notice  in  this  realistic  painting  that  the  keys 
are  evidently  boxwood  as  in  the  Itjilian  spinets  of  later 
date,  and  that  the  angel  plays  a  common  chord — A  wil'' 
the  right  hand,  F  and  C  with  the  left.     But  diatonic  organs 

.VIX.  —  9 


G6 


PIANOFORTE 


with  eiglit.steps  or  ke3's  in  the  octave,  which  included  the 
B  flat  and  the  B  natural,  as  in  Guide's  scale,  were  long 
preserved,"  for -Praatorius  speaks  of  them  as  still  existing 
nearly  two  hundred  years  later.  This  diatonic  keyboard, 
we  learn  from  Sebastian  Virdung  {Mvsica  getittscht  vnd 
anszr/ezof/en,  Basel,'  1511),  was  the  keyboard  of  the  early 
clavichord.  We  reproduce  his  diagram  as  the  only  autho- 
rity we  have  for  the  disposition  cf  the  one  short  key. 


lilLJ! 


Fig.  2. — Diatonic  Clavichord  Keyboard  (Guide's  Scale)  fromVirdung.    Before  1511. 

The  extent  of  this  scale  is  exactly  Guide's.  Virdung's 
diagram  of  the  chromatic  is  the  same  as  our  o'wn  familiar 
keyboard,  and  comprises  three  octaves  and  a  note,  from 
F  below  the  bass  stave  to  G  above  the  treble.  But  Virdung 
tells  us  that  even  then  clavichords  were  made  longer  than 
four  octaves  by  repetition  of  the  same  order  of  keys.  The 
introduction  of  the  chromatic  order  he  attributes  to  the 
study  of  Boetius,  and  the  consequent  endeavour  to  restore 
the  three  musical  geiiera  of  the  Greeks — the  diatonic,  chro- 
matic, and  enharmonic.  But  the  last-named  had  not  been 
attained.  Virdung  gives  woodcuts  of  the  clavicordium, 
the  virginal,  the  clavicimba'lum,  and  the  claviciterium.  We 
reproduce  three  of  thein  (figs.  3,  6,  and  12),  omitting  the 
virginal  as  obviously  incorrect.  All  these  drawings  have 
been  continually  repeated  by  writers  on  musical  instru- 
ments up  to  the  present  day,  but  without  discerning  that 
in  the  printing  they  are  reversed,  which  puts  the  keyboards 
3ntirely  wrong,  and  that  in  Luscinius's  Latin  translation  of 
Virdung  (Musurgia,  sive  Praxis  Musicee.,  Strasburg,  1536), 
which  has  been  hitherto  chiefly  followed,  two  of  the  engrav- 
ings, the  clavicimbalum  and  the  claviciterium,  are  trans- 
posed, another  cause  of  error.  Martin  Agricola  {Musica 
Instrumentalis,  Wittenberg,  1529)  has  copied  Virdung's 
illustrations  with  some  -differences  of  perspective,  and  the 
addition,  here  and  there,  of  errors  of  his.o^\^l. 


Fio.  .*J.— Virdung's  Cl3\ichoraium,  1511:  reversed /acsimfZe. 

Still  vulgarly  known  as  monochord,  Virdung's  clavi- 
chord was  really  a  box  of  monochords,  all  the  strings  being 
of  the  same  length.  He  derives  tlie  cla-v-ichord  from 
Guide's  monochord  as  he  does  the  virginal  from  the 
psaltery,  but,  at  the  same  time,  confesses  he  does  not  know 
when,  or  by  whom,  either  instrument  was  invented.  We 
observe  in  this  dra'wing  the  short  sound-board,  which  always 
remained  a  clavichord  peculiarity,  and  the  straight  sound- 
board bridge — necessarily  so  when  all  the  strings  were  of 
one  length.  To  gain  an  angle  of  striking  place  for  the 
to.ngents  against  the  strings  the  keys  were  made  crooked,  an 
""pedient  further  rendered  necessary  by  the  "  fretting," — 
three  tangents, -according  to  Virdung,  being  dii-ected  to 
5top  as  many  notes  from  each  single  group  of  three  strings 
tuned  in  unison ;  each  tangent  thus  made  a  different 
vibrating  length  of  string.     In  the  drav.ing  the  strings  are 


merely  indicated.  The  German  for  fret  is  Btmd,Hi$'%ki\i 
a  c'aviciiord,  in  that  language,  is  knOw'n  as  a  "gebtin'd^n  " 
one,  both  fret  (to  rub)  and  Bnnd  (from  linden,  to  bind) 
having  been  taken  over  from  the  lute  or  viol.  The  French 
and  Italians  employ  "  touche  "  and  "  tasto,"  touch.  Prs- 
torius,  who  wrote  a  hundred  years  later  than  Virdung,  says 
tvvo,  three,  and  four  tangents  were  thus  employed  in 
stopping.  The  oldest  clavichords  extant  have  no  more 
than  two  tangents  to  a  note  formed  by  a  pair  of  strings, 
no  longer  three.  Thus  seven  pairs  of  strings  sufTice  for  an 
octave  of  twelve  keys,  the  open  notes  being  E*,  G,  A,  B  flat, 
C,  D,  E  flat,  and  by  an  unexplained  peculiarity,  perhaps 
derived  from  some  special  estimation  of  the  notes  which 
was  connected  with  the  church  modes,  A  and  D  are  left 
throughout  free  from  a  second  tangent.  A  corresponding 
value  of  these  notes  is  shown*  by  their  independence  of 
chromatic  alteration  in  tuning  the  double  Irish  harp,  a."i 
explained  by  Galilei  in  his  treatise  on  music,  published  in 
1581.  Adlung,  who  died  in  1762,  speaks  of  another 
fretting,  but  we  think  it  must  have  been  an  adaptation 
to  the  modern  major  scale,  the  "free  "  notes  being  E  and 
B.  Clavichords  were  made  with  double  fretting  vjp  to 
about  the  year  1700, — that  is  to  say,  to  the  epoch  of  J.  S. 
Bach,  who,  taking  advantage  of  its  abolition  and  the  conse- 
quent use  of  independent  pairs  of  strings  for  each  note, 
was  enabled  to  tune  in  all  keys  equally,  which  had  been 
impossible  so  long  as  the  fretting  was  maintained.  .The 
modern  scales  having  become  established.  Bach  was  now 
able  to  produce,  in' 1722,  Das  wohltemperirte  Clavier,  the 
first  collection  of  preludes  and  fugues  in  all  the  twenty- 
four  major  and  minor  scales  for  a  clavichord  which  was 
tuned,  as  to  concordance  and  dissonance,  fairly  equal. 
{  The  oldest  clavichord,  here  called  manicordo  (as  French, 
^manicorde,  from  monochord),  known  to  exist  is  that  shown 
in_fig._jt.ait It  will  be  observed  that  the  lowest  octave  is 


Fig.  4. — Mahfcordo  (Clavicliord)  d'Eleqnora  di  Montalvo  1C59  :  Kraus  Museum, 
Florence. 

here  already  '"'  bundfrei  "  or  fret-free.  The  strings  are  no 
longer  of  equal  length,  and  there  are  three  bridges,  divi- 
sions of  the  one  bridge,  in  different  positions  on  the 
sound-board.  Mersenne's 
"  manicorde  "  {Ilannonie 
Universelle,  163G),  shown 
in  an  engraving  in  that 
work,  has  the  strings  still 
nearly  of  equal  length,  but 
divides  the  sound-board 
bridge  into  five.  The 
fretted  clavichords  mdde'in 
Germany  in  the  last  years 
of  the  17th  century  have 
the  curved  -sound-board  _ 
bridge,  like  a  spinet.  In  ^' 
the  clavichord  the  tangents 
always  form  the  second 
bridge,  indispensable  for  the  vibration,  as  well  as  act  as 
the  sound  exciters  (fig.  5).  The  common  damper  to  all  the 
strings  is  a  list  of  cloth,  interv.-oven  behind  the  tangents. 
As  the  tangents  quitted  the  strings  the  cloth  immediate'/ 


Fig.  5 — Clavichord  Tangent- 


P  ]  iV  N  O  F  O  11  T  E 


(w 


stopped  vibration.  Too  much  cloth  would  diminisli  the 
tone  of  this  ah-eady  feeble  instrument,  which  gained  the 
name  of  "  dumb  spinet "  from  its  use.  The  cloth  is 
accurately  painted  in  the  clavichord  Rubens's  St  Cecilia 
(Dresden  Gallery)  plays  upon,— interestirig  as  perhaps 
representing  that  painter's  own  instrument.  The  number 
(.if  keys  there  shown  is  three  octaves  and  a  third,  F  to  A, 
— the  same  extent  as  in  Handel's  clavichord  now  in  the 
museum  at  Maidstone  (an  Italian  instrument  dated  1726, 
and  not  fretted),  but  with  a  combined  chromatic  and  short 
ixitave  peculiarity  in  the  lowest  notes  we  shall  have  to 
refer  to  when  we  arrive  at  the  spinet ;  we  pass  it  by  as 
the  only  instance  in  the  clavichord  we  have  met  with. 
The  clavichord  must  have  gone  out  of  favour  in  Great 
Britain  and  the  Netherlands  early  in  the  16th  century, 
before  its  expressive  power,  which  is  of  the  most  tender , 
and  intimate  quality,  could  have  been,  from  the  nature 
of  the  music  played,  observed, — the  more  brilliant  and 
elegant  spinet  being  preferred  to  it.  Like  the  other  key- 
board instruments  it  had  no  German  name,  and  can  hardly 
liave  been  of  German  origin.  Holbein,  in  his  drawing  of 
the  family  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  1528,  now  at  Basel,  indi- 
cates the  place  for  "  Klavikordi  und  ander  Seytinspill. " 
But  it  remained  longest  in  use  in  Germany — until  even 
the  beginning  of  the  present  century.  It  was  the  favourite 
"  Klavier  "  of  the  Bachs.  Besides  that  of  Handel  already 
noticed,  there  are  in  existence  clavichords  the  former 
possession  of  which  is  attributed  to  Mozart  and  Beethoven. 
The  clavichord  was  obedient  to  a  peculiarity  of  touch 
])ossible  on  no  other  Jieyboard  instrument.  This  is 
<lescribed  by  C.  P.  Emmanuel  Bach  in  his  famous  essay 
on  playing  and  accompaniment,  entitled  Versuch  iiher  die 
jonhre  Art  das  Klavier  zu  spielen  (An  Essay  on  the  True 
.  Way  to  play  KeyV)oard  Instruments).  It  is  the  "  Bebung  " 
(trembling),  a  vibration  in  a  melody  note  of  the  same  nature 
as  that  frequently  employed  by  violin  p"a/'ers  to  heighten 
the  expressive  effect ;  it  was  gained  by  a  repeated  move- 
ment of  the  fleshy  end  of  the  finger  while  the  key  was 
still  held  down.  The  "  Bebung  "  was  indicated  in  the 
notation  by  dots  over  the  note  to  be  affected  by  it,  perhajjs 
showing  how  many  times  the  note  should  be  repeated. 
According  to  the  practice  of  the  Bachs,  as  handed  down 
to  U3  in  the  above  mcnlioped  essay,  great  smoothness  of 
touch  was  required  to  play  the  clavichord  in  tunc.  As 
with  the  monochord,  the  means  taken  to  produce  the 
sound  disturbed  the  accuracy  of  the  string  measurement 
by  increasing  tension,  so  that  a  key  touched  too  firmly  in 
the  clavichord,  by  unduly  raising  th6  string,  sharpened  the 
pitch,  an  error  in  playing  deprecated  by  C.  P.  Emmanuel 
Bach.  This  answers  the  assertion  which  has  been  made 
that  J.  S.  Bach  could  not  have  been  nice  about  tuning 
when  he  played  from  preference  on  an  instrument  of  un- 
certain intonation. 

The  next  instrument  described  by  Virdung  is  the 
virginal  {viiyinaiiii,  [iroiicr  for. a  girl),  a  parallelogram  in 
sha[>o,  with  a  projecting  keyboard  and  compass  of  keys 
the  same  a.s  the  clavichordium.  _  Here  we  can  trace  deriva- 
tion from  the  psaltery  in  the  soundboard  covering  the 
entire  inner  surface  of  the  instrument  and  in  the  triangular 
disposition  of  the  strings.  The  latter  in  Virdung's drawing 
has  an  impossible  position  with  reference  to  the  keyboard, 
which  renders  its  reproduction  as  an  illustration  useless. 
But  in  the  next  drawing,  the  clavicimbalum,  this  is  rectifiofl, 
and  the  drawing,  reversed  on  account  of  the  key-board, 
can  be  accepted  as  roughly  representing  the  instrument  so 
called  (fig.  6). 

There  would  be  no  •  difference  between -it  and  '  the 
virginal  wore  it  not  for  a  peculiarity  of  keyboard  compass, 
which  emphatically  refers  itself  to  the  Italian  "spinctta;" 

name    unnoticed    by  -Virdung    or    by  -his    countryman 


Arnold  Schlick,  who,  in  the  .same  year  1511,  published  hia 
Spiiycl  der  Oygdmacher  ("Organ-builders'  Mirror"),  and 


jrrrrrrrrrrri^r/rrj^  7;. 


Kir..  C— Virdung's  Cliiviciinbaluiii  (Spine;!).  1.J11 ;  icvu.^til/dc-snHiV^ 

named  the  clavichordium  and  clavicimbalum  as  familiar 
instruments.  In  the  first  i)lace,  the  keyboard,  beginning 
apparently  ^\-ith  B  natural,  instead  of  F,  makes  tlie 
clavicimbalum  smaller  than  the  virginal,  the  strings  in  this 
arrangement  being  shorter  ;  in  the  next  place  it  is  almost 
certain  that  the  Italian  .spinet  compass,  beginning  apjiar- 
ently  upon  a  semitone,  is  identical  with  a  "  short  measure  " 
or  "  short  octave 'I  organ  compass,  a- very  old  keyboard 
arrangement,  by  which  the  lowest  note,  representing  B, 
really  sounded  G,  and  C  sliarp  in  like  manner  A.  The 
origin  of  this  may  be  deduced  from  the  psaltery  and  many 
representations  of  the  regal,  and  its  object  appears  to  have 
been  to  obtain  dominant  basses  for  cadences, — harmonious 
closes  having  early  been  sought  for  as  giving  jjleasure  to 
the  ear.  We  have  found  a  hitherto  unnoticed  authority 
for  this  practice  in  Mersenne,  who,  in  1636,  expressly 
describes  it  as  occurring  in  his  own  spinet  {es)iitutt().  He 
says  the  keyboards  of  the  s|)inet  and  organ  are  the  same. 
Now,  in  his  Latin  edition  of  the  same  work  he  renders 
espinette  by  clavicimbalum.  We  read  {llaiinonie  C'ni- 
verseUe,  Paris,  16.36,  liv.  3,  p.  107)—"  Its  longest  string  [his 
spinet's]  is  little  more  than  a  foot  in  length  between  the 
two  bridges.  It  has  only  thirty-one  steps  ["  marches  "]  in 
its  keyboard,  and  as  many  strings  over  its  sound-board  [he 
now  refers  to  the  illustration],  so  that  there  are  live  keys 
hidden  on  account  of  the  perspective, — that  is  to  say,  three 
naturals  and  two  sharps  ["/fin^c.*,"  same  as  the  Latin  ficti\ 
of  which  the  first  is  cut  into  two  (a  divided  sharp  form- 
ing two  keys) ;  but  these  sharps  serve  to  go  down  to  the 
third  and  fourth  below  the  first  step,  C  sol  [tenor  clef  C], 
in  order  to  go  as  far  as  the  third  octave,  for  the  eighteen 
principal  steps  make  but  an  eighteenth,  that  i?  to  say,  a 
fourth  more  than  two  octaves."  The  note  we  call  F  he, 
on  his  engraving,  letters  ns  C,  indicating  the  pitch  of  a 
spinet  of  the  second  size,  which  the  one  described  is  not. 
The  third  and  fourth,  reached  by  his  cut  sharp,  arc  conse- 
quently the  lower  K  and  D  ;  or,  to  complete,  as  he  says, 
the  third  octave,  the  lowest  note  might  be  F,  but  for 
that  he  would  want  the  diatonic  semitone  B,  which  his 
spinet,  according  to.  his  description,  did  not  possess.' 
Mersenne's  statement  sufficiently  proves,  first,  the  use  in 
spinets  as  well  as  in  organs  of  what  ivc  now  call  "  short 
measure,"  and,  secondly,  the  intention  of  cut  sharps  nt 
the  lower  end  of  the  keyboard  to  gain  lower  notes. 
He  speaks  of  one  string  only  to  each  note  ;  unlike  the 
double'  and  triple  strung  clavichord,  those  instruments, 
clavicimbalum,  spinet,  or  virginal,  derived  from  the 
psaltery,  could  oidy  present  one  string  to  the  mechanical 
jilcctrum  which  twanged  it.  As  regards  the  kind  of 
plectra  earliest  used  wo  have  no  evidence.  The  little 
rrow-auill    points,   Scaliirer,   who  wa.s    born  in'LJS},  ex- 


'  Mr  A.  J.  Kliis  (llislory  of  Mutical  Pitch,  p.  318)  8{(!ii  llio  B  in 
McTBcnni's  outline  dir.gram. 


f>8 


PIANOFORTE 


Fig.  7.— Spinet 
"Jack." 


prcssly  says  were  introduced  when  he  was  a  boy.  They 
project  from  centred  tongues  in  uprights  of  wood  known 
as  "jacks"  (tig.  7),  which  also  carry  the  dampers.  The 
quills,  rising  by  the  depression  of  the  keys 
in  front,  set  the  strings  vibrating  as  they 
pass  them, — springs  at  first  of  steel,  later 
of  bristle,  giving. energy  to  the  twang  and 
governing  their  return.  Scaliger-  remem- 
bered the  "  harpichordum  "  and  "  clavi- 
cimbaluin "  being  without  those  quill- 
points  {mwvones),  and  attributes  the  intro- 
duction of  the  name  "  spinetta  "  to  them 
(from  spina,  a  thorn).  We  will  leave  har- 
pichordum for  the  present,  but  the  early 
identity  of  clavicimbalum  and  spinetta  is 
certainly  proved.  Scaliger's  etymology 
has  remained  unquestioned  until  quite  re- 
cently ;  it  is  due  to  Signer  Ponsicchi  of 
Florence  to  havp  discovered  another  de- 
rivation. He  has  found  in  a  rare  book 
entitled  Condusione  nel  suono  delU  organo,  di  D.  Adiano 
B'lnchieri  (Bologna,  1608),  the  following  passage,  which 
translated  reads : — "  Spinetta  was  thus  named  from  the 
inventor  of  that  oblong  form,  who  was  one  Maestro  Gio- 
vanni Spinetti,  a  Venetian ;  and  I  have  seen  one  of  those 
instruments,  in  the  possession  of  Francesco  Stivori,  organist 
of  the  magnificent  community  of  Montagnana,  within 
which  was  this  inscription — Joannes  Spinetvs  Venetvs 
fecit,  A.D.  1503."  Scaliger's  and  Banchieri's  state- 
ments may  be  combined,  as  there  is  no  discrepancy 
of  dates,  or  we  may  rely  upon  whichever  seems  to 
as  to  have  the  greater  authority,  always  bearing  in 
mind  that  neither  invalidates  the  other.  The  intro- 
duction of  crow-quill  points,  and  adaptation  to  an 
oblong  case  of  an  instrument  previously  in  a  trapeze 
form,  are  synchronous;  but  we  must  accept  1503  as 
a  late  date  for  one  of  Spinetti's  instruments,  seeing 
that  the  altered  form  had  already  become  common^ 
as  shown  by  Virdung,  in  another  country  as  early  as 
1511.  After  this  date  there  are  frequent  references 
to  spinets  in  public  records  and  other  documents, 
and  we  have  fortunately  the  instruments  themselves 
to  put  in  evidence,  preserved  in  public  museums  and  in 
private  collections.  The  oldest  spinet  we  can  point  out  is 
i-n  the  Conservatoire,  Paris.  It  is  a  pentagonal\instrament 
made  by  Francesco  di  Portalupis  at  Verona,  1523.  The 
Milanese  Rossi  were  famous  spinet-makers,  and  have  been 
accredited  {La  Nobilitk  di  Milaiio,  1595)  with  an  improve- 
ment in  the  form  which  wfifT believe  was  the  recessing  of 
the  keyboard,  a  feature  which  had  previously  entirely  pro- 
jected ;  by  the  recessing  a  greater  width  was  obtained  for 
the  sound-board.  The  spinets  by  Annibalo  Rosso  at  South 
Kensington,  dated  respectively  1555  (fig.  8)  and  1577, 


The  apparent  compass  of  the  keyboard  in  It^ily  generally 
exceeded  four  octaves  by  a  semitone,  E  to  F ;  but  we  may 
regard  the  lowest  natural  key  as  usually  C,  and  the  lowest 
sharp  key  as  usually  D,  in  these  instruments,  according  tc 
"  short  measure. " 

The  rectangular  spinet,  Virdung's  "virginal,"  early 
assumed  in  Italy  the  fashion  of  the  large  "  casone "  oi 
wedding  chests'.  The  oldest  we  know  of  in  this  style,  and 
dated,  is  the  fine  specimen  belonging  to  M.  Terme  which 
figures  in  L'Art  Deeoratif  (fig.  9).  Virginal  is  not  an  Italian 
name ;  the  rectangular  instrument  in  Italy  is  "  spinetta 
tavola."  In  England,  from  Henry  VII.  to  Charles  II., 
all  quilled  instruments  (strometiti  di  penna),  without 
distinction  as  to  form,  were  known  as  virginals.  It  was 
a  common  name,  equivalent  to  the  contemporary  Italian 
clavicordo  and  Flemish  clavisingel.  From  the  latter,  by 
apocope,  we  arrive  at  the  French  clavecin, — the  French 
clavier,  a  keyboard,  being  in  its  turn  adopted  by  the 
Germans  to  denote  any  keyboard  stringed  instrument. 

Mersenne  gives  three  sizes  for  spinets, — one  2^  feet 
wide,  tuned  to  the  octave  of  the  "ton  de  chapelle  "  (in 
his  day  a  whole  tone  above  the  present  English- mediuir 
pitch),  one  of  3|  feet,  tuned  to  the  fourth  below,  and  on« 
of  5  feet,  tuned  to  'the  octave  below  the  first, — the  last 
being  therefore  tuned  in  unison  to  the  chapel  pitch.*^  He 
says  his  own  spinet  was  one  of  the  smallest  it  was  custom 


Fig.  8.— Milanese  Spinetta,  by  Annibale  Ro&<»rt,  1555;  Sonth  Kenslngton-Muaeiim. 

Show  this  alteration,  and  may  be  compared  with  the  older 
and  ptirer  form  of  one,  dated  1568,  by  Marco  Jadra  (also 
known  as  Marco  "dalle  spinette,"  or  "dai  cembali"). 
Besides  the  pentagonal  spinet,  there  was  an  heptagonal 
variety ;  they  had  neither  covers  nor  stands,  and  were 
often  withdrawn  from  decorated  cases  when  required  for 
performance.  In  other  instances,  as  in  the  1577  Rosso 
spinet,  the  case  of  the  instrument  itself  was  richly  adorned. 


Fig.  9.— Spinetta  Tavola  (Viiginal),  1S68;  collection  of  M.  Tenne. 

ary  to  Hiake,  but  from  the  lettering  of  the  keys  In  his 
drawing  it  would  have  been  of  the  second  size,  or  tho 
spinet  tuned  to  the  fourth.  The  octave  spinet,  of  trapeze 
^rm,  was  known  in  Italy  as  "ottavina"  or  "spinetta  di 
serenata."  It  had  a  less  compass  of  keys  than  the  larger 
instrument,  being  apparently  three  and  two-third  octaves,  E 
to  C, — which  by  the  "  short  measure "  would  be  four 
octaves,  C  to  C.  We  learn  from  Praetorius  that  these  little 
spinets  were  placed  upon  the  larger  ones  in  performance; 
their  use  ^as  to  heighten  the  brilliant  effect.  In  the 
double  rectangular  clavisingel  of  the  Netherlands,  in 
which  there  was  a  movable  octave  instrument,  we 
recognize  a  similar  intention.  There  is  a  fine 
spinet  of  this  kind  at  Nuremberg.  Pr«3toriua 
illustrates  the  Italian  spinet  by  a  form  known  ay 
the  "  spinetta  traverse,"  an  approach  towards  the 
long  clavicembalo  or  harpsichord, — the  tuning  pins 
being  immediately  over  the  keyboard.  This  trans- 
posed spinet,  more  powerful  than  the  old  trapeze 
one,  became  fashionable  in  England  after  the 
Restoration, — Haward,  Keene,  Slade,  Player,  Baudin,  the 
Hitchcocks,  Mahoon,  Haxby,  the  Harris  family,  and 
others  having  m.ade  such  "  sjiinnets "  during  a  period 
for  which  we  have  dates  from  1668  to  1784.  Pepys 
bought  his  "  Espinette "  from  Charles  Haward  ior  £5 
July  13,  1668. 

The  spinets  of   Keene  and  Player,  made  about  1700, 
have  frequently  two  cut  sharps  at  the  ba.«!s  end  of  the  key 


PIANOFORTE 


()ii 


board,  which  Mersenne'a  short  measure,  and  the.  realization 
at  that  time  of  the  independence  of  each  key  in  the 
chromatic  scale,  may  be  taken  when  combined  to  exulain. 


Fio.  lO.'^Engllsh  Soinet  (SpinetU  Traversa),  by  Carolua  Hawaid.    About  1668. 
Collection  of  Mr  W.  Dale,  London. 

Hitherto  such  cut  sharps  have  been  assumed  to  be  quarter 
tones,  but  enharmonic  intervals  in  the  extreme  bass  can 
have  no  justification.  From  the  tuning  of  Handel's  Italian 
clavichord  already  mentioned,  which  has  this  peculiarity, 
we  are  led  to  infer  that  the  nearer  halves  of  the  two  cut 
sharps  were  the  chromatic  semitones,  and  the  farther  halves 
the  lower  thirds  or  fourths  below  what  they  appeared  to  be. 
Thomas  Hitchcock  (for  whom  we  have  a  date  1703  upon 
■a  spinet  jack  in  an  instrument  of  older  model  with  two 
cut  sharps  by  Edward  Blunt)  and  his  '' 
son  John  made  a"  great  advance  in  con- 
structing'spinets,  giving  them  the  wide 
coihpass  of  five  octaves,  from  G  to  G, 
with  very  fine  keyboards  in  which  the 
sharps  were  inlaid  with  a  slip  of  the 
ivory  or  ebony,  as  the  case  might  be,  of 
the  naturals.  Their  instruments,  always 
numbered,  and  not  dated  as  has  been 
sometimes  supposed,  became  models  for 
the  contemporary  and  subsequent  Eng- 
lish makers.  ■  ,  \ 
We  have  now  to  ask  what  was  the 
difference  between  Scaliger's  harpichor- 
dum  and  his  clavicymbaL  Galilei,  the 
father  of  the  astronomer  of  that  name 
{Dialogo  della  Musica  Antica  e  Moderna, 
Florence,  1581),  says  that  the  harplchord 
was  so  named  from  having  resembled 
an  "arpa  giacente,"  a  prostrate  or 
,"  couched  "  harp, — proving  that  the 
clavicymbal  was  at  first  the  trapeze- 
shaped  spinet;  and  we  should  therefore  differentiate  hdrpi- 
chord  and  clavicymbal  as,  in  form,  suggested  by  or  derived 
from  the  harp  and  psaltery,  or  from  a  "  testa  di  porco  " 
and  an  ordinary  trapeze  psalterj'.  We  are  inclined  to  prefer 
the  latter.  The  Latin  name  "  clavicymbalum',"  having 
early  been  replaced  by  sjiinet  and  virginal,  was  in  Italy  and 
France  bestowed  upon  the  long  harpichord,  and  was  con- 
tinued as  clavicembalo  (gravccembalo,  or  familiarly  cembalo 
only)  and  clavecin.  Much  later,  after  the  restoration  of 
the  Stuarts,  the  first  name  was  accepted  and  naturalized 
in  England  as  harpsichord,  which  we  will  define  as  the 
long  quill  instrument  shaped  like  a  modern  grand  piano, 
and  resembling  a  wing,  from  which, it  has  gained  the 
German  appellation  "  FliiRel."     Wo  can  point  out  no  long 


instrument  of  this  kind  so  old  as  the  Roman  cembalo  at 
South  Kensington  (fig.  11).  It  was  made  by  Geronimo  of 
Bologna  in  1521,  two  years  before  the  Paris  Portalupis 
spinet.  The  outer  case  is  of  finely  tooled  leather.  It  has  a 
spinet  compass  of  keyboard  of  nearly  four  octaves,  E  to  D. 
The  natural  keys  are  of  boxwood,  gracefully  arcaded  in 
front.  The  keyboards  of  the  Italian  cembalo  were  after-' 
wards  carried  out  to  the  normal  four  octaves.  There  is  ai) 
existing  example  dating  as  early  as  1526,  with  the  basl 
keys  carried  out  in  long  measiire.  It  is  surprising  to  sefi 
with  what  steady  persistence  the  Italians  adhered  in  making 
the  instrument  to  their  original  model.  As  late  as  the  epoch 
of  Oristofori,  and  in  his  1722  cembalo  at  Florence,  we  still 
find  the  independent  outer  case,  the  single  keyboard,  the 
two  unisons,  neither  of  which  could  be  dispensed  with  by 
using  stops.  The  Italians  have  been  as  conservative  with 
their  forms  of  spinet,  and  are  to  this  day  with  their  organs. 
The  startling  "piano  e  forte"  of  1598,  brought  to  light 
from  the  records  of  the  house  of  D'Este,  by  Count 
Valdrighi  of  Modena,  after  much  consideration  and  a 
desire  to  find  in  it  an  anticipation  of  Cristofori's  subse- 
quent invention  of  the  pianoforte,  we  are  disposed  to 
regard  as  an  ordinary  cembalo  with  power  to  shift,  by  a 
stop,  from  two  unisons  (forte)  to  one  string  (piano),  at  tk^t 
time  a  Flemish  practice,  and  most  likely  brought  to  Italy 
by  one  of  the  Flemish  musicians  who  founded  the  Italian 
school  of  composition.  About  the  year  1600,  when  accom- 
paniment was  invented  for  monody,  large  cembalos  were 
made  for  the  orchestras  to  bring  out  the  bass  part — the 
performer  standing  to  play.  Such  an  instrument  was 
called  "  archicembalo,"  a  name  also  applied  to  a  largo 
cembalo,  made  by  Vito  Trasuntino,  a  Venetian,  in 
1606,  intended  by  thirty-one  keys  in  each  of  its  four 
octaves — one  hundred  and  twenty-five  in  all — to  restore 


Flo.  11.— Roman 


Clavicembalo,  by  Geronimo  of  Bologna,  1,S31 ;  South  Kcnslnglon  Museum, 
the  tliree  genera  of  'the  ancient  Greeks.  IIow  many 
attempts  have  been  made  before  and  since  Trasuntino  to 
purify  intonation  in  keyboard  instruments  by  multiplying 
keys  in  the  octavo  1  Sinmltaiicously  with  Father  Smith'.-* 
well-known  experiment  in  the  Toniiilo  organ,  London,  there 
were  divided  keys  in  an  Italian  harpsichord  to  gain  a  .sepa- 
rate G  sharp  and  A  flat,  and  a  separate  D  sharp  and  E  Hat. 
Double  keyboards  and  sto|is  in  the  long  cembalo  or 
harpsichord  came  into  use  in  tliu  Nellicrlands  early  in  the 
16th  century.  We  find  them  iiiiportcd  into  England.  Tlio 
following  citations,  quoted  by  liimbault  in  his  History  <</ 
(he  rianoforU,  but  imperfectly  understood  by  liim,  aro 
from  the  privy  purse  expenses  of  King  Henry  Vlll.,  aa 
extracted  by  Sir  llnrris  Nicolas  in  1827. 


TO 


PIANOFORTE 


"  1530  {A]iril).  Item  the  vj  dayc  paicJ  to  William  Lcwcs  for 
I  payci'  of  vir{jliialls  in  one  coffer  witli  iiii  stojipes  brouglit  to 
Giciicwiclie  iii  li.  Anil  for  ii  payer  of  virf;inalls  in  one  coH'cr 
brouirlit  to  the  More  otlicr  iii  li. "' 

Kow  the  second  instrument  may  be  explained,  virginals 
meaning  any  quilled  instrument,  as  a  double  s])inet,  like 
that  at  Nuremberg  by  ilartin  Van  der  Beest,  the  octave 
division  being  movable;  but  the  first  cannot  be  so 
exjilained  ;  the  four  stops  can  only  belong  to  a  harpsichord, 
and  the  two  pair  instrument  to  a  double-keyed  one,  one 
keyboard  being  over,  and  not  by  the  side  of  the  other. 
Again  from  the  inventory  (after  the  king's  death — 

"Two  fair  jiair  of  new  long  Virginalls  made  harp-fashion  o'f 
Cipres,  with  keys  of  ivory,  having  the  King's  Arms  crowned  and 
supported  by  his  Grace's  beastes  within  a  garter  gilt,  standing 
oyer  the  keys." 

Rimbault  saw  in  this  an  upright  instrument,  and  such  Tone' 
was  not  then  impossible,  Virdung's  elavioiterium  (fig.  12) 
being  no  more  than  a 
horizontal  harpsichord 
turned  up  upon  its  broad 
end,  which  a  slight  modi- 
fication of  the  action 
rendered  facile,  but  if 
upright,  the  two  fair  pair 
of  new  long  virginalls 
would  not  have  -been 
"long"— but  high.  We 
explain  "  harp-fashion  " 
aqcording  to  -  Galilei's 
"arpa  giacente,"  and  are 
disposed  to  believe  that 
we  have  here  another 
double  keyboard  harpsi- 
chord. We  read  in  an 
inventory  of  the  furniture 

of  Warwick  Castle,  1584,    f,„.  ij._vi,rt„n<r> ci,vin,r,;™ (upight 
a  faire  paire  of  double"  Hmijsichord),  i5u.  ' 

virginalls,"  and  in  the  Hengrave' inventory,  1603,  "one 
great  payre  of  double  virginalls."  Hans  Kuckers,  the 
great  clavisingel  maker  of  Antwerp,-  lived  then  too  late 
to  have -invented  the  double  keyboard  and  stops,  evident 
adaptations  from  the  organ,  but  we  may  not  withhold 
from  him  the  credit  of  introducing  the  octave  string,  so 
long  attributed  to.  him,  which  incorporated  the  octave 
spinet  with  the  large  instrument,  to  be  henceforth  play- 
able without  the  co-operation  of  another  performer.  It 
had  been  attached  to  the  bent  or  angle  side  of  harpsi- 
chords, as  shown  in  a  modern  instrument  which  forms  part 
of  the  famous  Plantin  Museum  at  Antwerp,  arfid  also  in  one 
by  Hans  Ruckers  himself,  dated  1594,  preserved  in  the 
Kunst  und  .Gewerbe  Museum,  Berlin.  The  double  harpsi- 
chord by  that  maker  at  the  Conservatoire,  Paris,  dated 
1590,  which  is  four  years  earlier  than  the  above,  has  the 
octave  string.  From  that  date  until  the  last  harpsichord 
was  made  by  Joseph  Kirkman  in  1798,  scarcely  an  instru- 
ment of  the  kind  was  made,  except  in  Italy,  without 
the  octaves.  Hans  Kuckers  had ,  two  sons,  Hans  the 
younger  "and  Andries  the  elder,  who  followed  and  rivalled 
him  in  skill  and  reputation.  Another  Andries,  the  son  of 
the  former,  appears  to  have  done  but  little,  at  least  for  him- 
self ;  but  a  nephew,  Jan  Couchet,  a  grandson  of  old  Hans 
Ruckers,  continued  the  prestige  of  this  distinguished  family, 
Huygens  being  a  witness  to  the  rare  ability  of  Couchet. 
All  these  men,  and,  in  fact,  all  the  clavisingel  makers  of 
Antwerp,  belonged  to  the  artist's  guild  of  St  Luke,  the 
affiliation  being  recognized  from  the  close  alliance  at  that 
time  of  the  arts,  the  painter  having  often  as  much  to  do 
with  the  musical  instrument  as  the  maker  himself.  The 
Ruckers  harpsichords  in  the  1  Sth  century  were  fetching 
puch  prices  as  Bologna  lutes  did  in  the  17th  or  Cremona 


violins  do  now.  There  are  still  many  specimens  exi-tm^ 
in  Belgium,  France,  and  England  Handel  had  a  Ruckers 
harpsichord,  which  may  be  the  one  long  sought  for  and 
lately  discovered  by  Mr  Julian  Mar.shall  in  Windsor- 
Castle  ;  it  completes  the  number  of  sixty-three  existing 
Ruckers  instruments  catalogued  in  Grove's  Diitiomiri/  of 
Music  and  Musicians. 

After  the  Antwerp  make  declined,  London  became  pre- 
eminent for  harpsichords, — the  representative  makers  being 
Jacob  Kirckmaun  and  Burckhard  Tschudi,  pupils  of  a 
Flemish  master^  one  Tabel,  who  had  settled  in  London,  and 
whose  business  Kirckmann  contmued  through  marriage 
with  Tabel's  widow.  Tschudi  was  of  a  noble  Swiss  family 
belonging  to  the  canton  of  Glarus.  According  to  the 
custom  with  foreign  names  obtaming  at  that  time,  by 
which  Haendel  became  Handel,  and  Schmidt  Smith,, 
Kirckmann  dropped  his  final  n  and  Tschudi  became  Shudi, 
but  he  resumed  the  full  spelling  in  the  facies  of  the  splendid 
harpsichords  he  made  in  1766  for  Frederick  the  Great, 
which  are  still  preserved  in  the  New  Palace,  Potsdam. 
By  these  great  makere  the  harpsichord  became  a  larger, 
heavier-strung,  and  more  powerful  instrument,  and  fancy- 
stops  were  added  to  vary  the  tone  effects.  To  the  three 
shifting  registers  of  jacks  of  the  octave  and  first  and  second 
unisons  were  added  the  "  lute,"  the  charm  of  which  was^ 
due  to  the  favouring,  of  high  harmonics  by  plucking  the 
strings  close  to  the  bridge,  and  the  "harp,"  a.surding  or 
muting  effect  produced  by  impeding  the  vibration  of  the 
strings  by  contact  of  small  pieces  of  buff  leather.  Two 
pedals  were  also  u§ed,  the  left-hand  one  a  combination  of 
a  unison  and  lute,  rendered  practicable  by  first  moving  the 
"  machine,"  a  sixth  stop,  with  the  left  hand  of  the  player  ; 
the  right-hand  pedal  was  to  raise  a  hinged  portion  of  thft 
top  or  cover  and  thus  gain  some  power  of  "  swell "  or  cres- 
cendo," an  invention  of  Roger  Plenius,  to  whom  also  the: 
harp  stop  may  be  rightly  attributed.  This  ingenious  hari)- 
sichord  maker  had  been  stimulated  to  gain  these  effects  hy 
the  nascent  pianoforte  which,  as  we  shall  find,  he  was  the 
first  to  make  in  England.  The  first  idea  of  pedals  for  the 
harpsichord  to  act  as  stops  appears  to  have  been  John  Hay- 
ward's  (?Haward)  as  early  as  1676,  as  we  learn  from  Mace's 
Mustek's  Monument.  The  French  makers  preferred  a  kind 
of  knee-pedal  arrangement  known  as  the  "genouillere,"  and 
sometimes  a  more  complete  muting  by  one  long  strip  of  butf 
leather,  the  "sourdine."  As  an  improvement  upon  Plenius's 
clumsy  swell,  Shudi  in  1769  patented  the  Venetian  swell, 
a  framing  of  louvres,  like  a  Venetian  blind,  which  opened 
by  the  movement  of  the  pedal,  and,  becoming  in  England 
a  favourite  addition  to  harpsichords,  was  early  transfenred 
to  the  organ,  in  which  it  replaced  the  rude  "  nag's-head  '* 
swell.  A  French  harpsichord  maker,  Marius,  whose  name: 
is  remembered  from  a  futile  attempt  to  design  a  piano- 
forte action,  invented  a  folding  harpsichord,  the  ''  clavecin 
bris^"  by  which  the  instrument  coidd  be  disposed  of  ii» 
a  smaller  space.  One,  which  is  preserved  at-  Berlin, 
probably  formed,  part  of  the  camp_baggage_of,  Eredcrick 
the  Great. ' 

It  was  formerly  a  custom  with  kings,  princesTand  nobles 
who  were  well-disposed  towards  music  to  keep  large  collec- 
tions of  nmsical  instruments,  — not  as  now  for  beauty  of 
decoration,  form,  and  colour,  or  historical  associations,  but 
for  actual  playing  purposes  in  the  domestic  and  fgstive 
music  of  their  courts.  There  are  records  of  their  inventories, 
and  it  was  to  keep  such  a  collection  in  playing  order  that 
Prince  Ferdinand  dei  Medici  engaged  a  Paduan  harpsichord 
niakfT,  Bartolommeo  Cristofori,  the  man  of  genius  who  in- 
vented and  produced  the  pianoforte.  We  fortunately  pos- 
sess the  record  of  this  invention  in  a  litcrary.form  from  a 
well-known  writer,  the  Marchese  Sci[>ione  Maff'ei  ;  his 
description  api:)eai-ed  in  the  Giurnate  dei  leUerad  d'ltalni.. 


P  1  A  N  O  F  O  11  T  E 


a  publication  conducted  by  Apostolo  Zeno.  The  date  of 
Maffei's  paper  was  1711.  Rimbault  reproduced  it,  witli  a 
technically  imperfect  translation,  in  his  llistorj/  of  the  Piaiio- 
forle.  We  learn  from  it  that  in  1709Cristofori  had  completed 
four  "  gravecembali  col  piano  e  forte" — keyed-psalteries 
with  soft  and  loud — three  of  them  being  of  the  long  or  usual 
harpsichord  form.  A  synonym  in  Italian  for  the  original 
cembalo  (or  psaltery)  is  "salterio,"  and  if  it  were  struck 
with  hammers  it  became  a  "salterio  tedcsco"  (the  German 
hackbrett,  or  chopiiing  board),  the  latter  being  the  common 
dulcimer.  Now  the  first  notion  of  a  pianoforte  is  a  dulcimer 
wi'h  keys,  and  we  may  perhaps  not  be  wrong  in  supposing 
thut  there  had  been  many  attempts  and  failures  to  put  a 
kovboard  to  a  dulcimer  or  hammers  to  a  harpsichord  before 
Cnstofori  successfully  .solved  the  problem.  The  sketch 
of  his  action  in  Maflei's  essay  shows  an  incomplete  stage 
in  the  invention,  although  the  kernel  of  it,  the  principle  of 
es'iapement  or  the  controlled  rebound  of  the  hammer,  is 
already  there.  He  obtains  it-  by  a  centred  lever  {linguefta 
inobiie)  or  hopper,  working,  when  the  key  is  depressed  by 
the  touch,  in  a  small  projection  from  the  centred  hammer 
butt.  The  return,  governed  by  a  spring,  must  have  been  un- 
rertain  and  incapable  of  further  regulating  than  could  be, 
obtained  by  modifying  the  strength  of  the  spring,  llore- 
o>er,  the  hammer  had  each  time  to  be  raised  the, entire 
distance  of  its  fall.  There  are,  hpwever,  two  pianofortes  by 
C.ristofori  in  Florence,  dated  respectively  1720  and  1726, 
»*hich  show  a  much  improved,  we  may  even  say  a  perfected, 
construction,  for  the  whole  of  an  essential  piano  movement 
is  there.  The  earlier  instrument  has  undergone  sojiie  re- 
storation, but  the  1726  one,  which  is  in  the  Kraus  Museum, 
retains  the  original  leather  hammerheads.  Both  instru- 
ments possess  alike  a  contrivance  for  determining  the 
radias  of  the  hopper,  and  both  have  been  unexpectedly 
found  to  have  the  "chock"  (Ital.  jjaramarUllo)  whicli 
regulates  the  fall  of  the  hammer  according  to  the  strength 
of  the  blow  which  has  impelled  it  to  the  strings.  After 
this  discovery  of  the  actual  instruments  of  Cristofori,  there 
can  be  no  longer  doubt  as  to  the  attribution  of  the  invention 
to  him,  in  its  initiation  and  its  practical  completion  with 
escapement  and  check.  To  Cristofori  we  ar^  indebted  nqt 
oidy  for  the  power  of  playing  piauo  and  foiie,  but  for  the 
infinite  variations  of  tone,  or  nuances,  which  render  the  iu- 
struraent  .so  delightful. 

But  his  jjroblem  was  not  solved  by  the  devising  of  a 
working  action ;  there  was  much  more  to  be  done  to  instal 
the  pianoforte  as  a  new  musical  instrument.     The  resoni- 


'Mllt 


.  14,— CristofoiTs  I'iano  e  Forte,  172i; ;  Kvaus 
Museum  noicnce. 


Fic.  13.— Criatofofra  Escapement  Action,  1720. 

anco,  that  most  subtle  and  yet  all-embracing  factor,  bad 
been  experimentally  developed  to  a  certain  perfection  by 
many  generations  of  spinet  and  harpsichord  makers,  but 
the  resistance  structure  had  to  be  thought  out  again. 
Thicker  stringing,  rendered  indispensable  to  withstand 
even  CrLstofori's  light  hammer.s,  demanded,  in  its  turn,  a 
i-tronger  framing  than  the  harpsichord  had  needed.  To 
make  his  structure  firm,  he  considerably  increased  tho 
.strength  of  the  block  which  holtls  the  tuning-pins,  and,  as 
ie  could  not  dc  sp  witliout  materially  adding  to  its  thicki- 


ness,  he, adopted  the  bold  exjiedicnt  of  inverting  it,  driving 
his  wrcst-pins,  harp-fashion,  through  it,  so  that  tuning  was 
effected  at  their  upper,  while  the  wires  were  attached  to 
their  lower  ends. 
Then  to  guarantee 
the  security  of  the 
case  he  ran  an  inde- 
pendent string-block 
round  it  of  stouter 
wood  than  had  been 
used  in  harpsichords, 
in  which  block  the 
hitch-pins  weredriveu 
to  hold  the  farther 
ends  of  the  strings, 
which  were  spaced 
at  equal  distances 
(unlike  the  harpsi- 
chord), the  dampers 
lying  between  the 
pairs  of  unisons. 

Cristofori  died  in ' 
1731.  Hehadpupils, 
but  did  not  found 
a  school  of  Italian 
!  pianoforte  making,  perhaps  frpm  the  peculiar  Italian  con- 
servatism in  musical  instruments  we  have  already  remarked 
upon. 

The  essay  of  Scipione  llaffei  was  transjated  into  German 
in  1725,  by  Kcinig,  the  court  j)oet  at  Dresden,  and  friend 
of  Gottfried  Silbermann,  the  renowned  organ  builder  and 
harpsichord  and  clavichord  maker.'  Incited  by  thia 
publication,  and  perhaps  by  haying  seen  in  Dresden  one 
of  Cristofori's  pianofortes,  Silbermann  appears  to  have 
taken  up  the  new  instrument,  and  in  1726  to  haye 
manufactured  two,  which  J.  S.  Bach,  according  to  his 
pupil  Agricola,  pronounced  failures.  The  trebles  were  too 
weak ;  the  touch  was  too  heavy.  There  has  long  been 
another  version  to  this  story,  viz.,  that  Silbermann 
borrowed  the  idea  of  his  action  from  a  very  simple  model 
contrived  by  a  young  musician  named  Schroeter,  who  had 
left  it  at  the  electoral  court  in  1721,  and,,  quitting  Saxony 
to  travel,  had  not  afterwards  claimed  it.  It  may  be  so; 
but Schrocter's  letter,  printed  in  iMitzlers  Bibliolluk,  dated 
1738,  is  not  supported  by  any  other  evidence  than  the 
recent  discovery  of  z.\\  altered  German  harpsichord,  tht, 
hammer  action  of  which,  in  its  simplicity,  may  have  been 
taken  from  Scliroeter's  diagram,  and  would  sufficiently 
account  for  tho  condemnation  of  Silbermann's  earliest 
pianofortes  if  he  had  made  use  of  it.  In  either  case  it  is 
easy  to  distinguish  between  the  lines  of  Schrocter's  interest- 
ing communications  (to  Mitzlcr  and  later  to  Marpurg)  the 
bitter  disappointment  lie  felt  in  being  left  out  of  the  practi- 
cal development  of  so  important  an  instrument. 

Biit,  whatever  Silbermann's  first  experiments  wore  b^od 
upon,  it  has  been  made  certain  by  tho  personal  investiga- 
tions of  the  present  writer  that  ho,  when  succcs.sful, 
adopted  Cristofori's  j)ianofort6  without  further  alteration 
than  tho  compass  and  colour  of  tho  kcy.s,  and  the  style  of 
joinery  of  the  case.  In  the  Silbermann  grand  pianofortes, 
in  the  thrco  jiakces  at  Potsdi^m,  known  to  liave  been 
Frederick  tho  Great's,  and  to  have  been  acquired  by  that 
monarch  prior  to  J.  S.  Bach's  visit  to  him  in  1747,  wo  find 
tho  Cristofori  framing,  stringing,  inverted  WTCst-pIank,  ami 
action  complete.  Fig.  15  represents  tho  instrument  on 
which  J.  S.  Bach  palycd  in  tho  Town  Palace,  Potsdam. 

It  has  been  repeatedly  8tat<id  in  Germany  that  Frederiei 
of  Gora  in  Saxony,  an  organ  builder  and  musical  instrument 

'  This  tranalntion,  rcproducoil  in  ejfttnso,  may  be  road  in  Dr  Oicar 
Paul's  O'cschicJUf  des  Clavieri,  Lcipsio,  1868. 


72 


PIANOFORTE 


maker,  invented  the  square  or  table-shaped  piano,  the  "fort 
bien"  as  he  is  said  to  have  called  it,  about  1758-60.  No 
square  pianD  by  this  maker  is  forthcoming,  but  M.  Victor 


Fia.  15. — Snbennann  Forte^Piono ;  Stadtschloss,  Potsdam,  1746. 

^       ^-  the  Ciuwn  Princess  of  Prusili. 

» 

Mahillon  of  Brussels  has  acquired  a  Frederici  "upright 
grand"  piano,  dated  1745,  and  contributes^  diagram  of 
the  simple, action  (fig.  16). -'In  Frederici's, upright  grand 
action  we  have  not  to  do  with, 
the  ideas  of  either  Cristofori  or 
Schroeter ;  the  movement  is  practi- 
cally identical  with  the  hammer 
action  of  a  German  clock,  and  has 
its  counterpart  in  a  piano  at 
Nuremberg,  a  fact  which  needs 
further  elucidation.  '  We  note 
here  the  earliest  example  of  tlie 
leather  hinge  afterwards  so  com-  ' 
mon  in  piano  actions,  and  only 
now  going  out  of  use.  Where 
are  we  to  look  for  Schroeter's 
copjdst,  if  not  found  in  Silber- 
mann,.  Frederici,  or,  as  we  shall 
presently  see,  perhaps  Wagner? 
It  might  be  in  the  harpsichord 
we  have  mentioned,  which,  made 

in  .  1712     by    one  ^ 

Brock  for  the  elector  ■  

of    Hanover    (after-  OS 

wards   George   I.    of  p,o,  le.— Frederici's  Crilglit  Grand  Piano  Action, 
TTrvrrlTTirlN      wn<i     hv      l"-*'.    Instiument  now  transferred  to  the  mviscnm 

ii.ngiana;,    was     oy     „(,|,j  B,„ssj,sCons«-^-atoii-c. 
him     presented     to 

the  Protestant  pastor  of  Schulenberg  near  Hanover,  and  has 

since  been  rudely  altered  into  a  pianoforte  (fig.  17).    There 

is  an  altered  harpsichord  in  the  museum  at 

^~^**>>^^       Basel  which  appears  to  have  been  no  more 

fl       [»       successful     But  an  attempted  combination 

^      '         of  hai'psichord  and  pianoforte  appears  as  a 

very   early  intention.       The    English   poet 

Mason,  the  friend  of  Gray,  bought  such  an 

I  1 


Fig.  17.— Hammer  and  Lifter  of  altered  Haipslchoid  by  Brock.    Instrument  in 
the  collection  of  Mr  Kendrlck  Pyne,  Manchester. 

instrument  at   Hamburg   in    1755,  with    "the   cleverest 
mechanism  imaginable." 

It  was  only  under  date'of  1763  that  Schroeter  pub- 
lished for  the.  first  time  a  diagram  of  his  proposed  inven- 
tion, designed  more  than  forty  years  before.'  It  appeared 
in  Marpurg's  Kritische  Briefe  (Berlin,  1764).  Now, 
immediately  after,  Johann  Zumpe,  a  German  in  London 
who  liad  been  one  of  Shudi's  workmen,  invented  or 
introduced  (for  there  is  sonio  tradition  that  Mason  had  to 


do  v.'ith  the  invention  of  it')  a  square  piano,  which  was  to< 
become  the  most  popular  domestic  instrument.  Burney 
teUs  us  all  about  Zumpe ;  and  his  instruments,  still 
existing,  fix  the  date  of  the  first  at  about 
1765.  In  his  simple  "old  man's  head" 
action,  we  have  the  nearest  approach  to  a 
realization  of  Schroeter's  simple  idea.  It 
will  be  observed  that  Schroeter's  damper 
would  stop  all  vibration  at  once.  This  de- 
tect is  overcome  by  Zumpe's  . "  mopstick  ' 
damper. 

1 '  Another  piano  action  had,  however,  come 
into  use  about  that  time  or  even  earlier  iu 
Germany.  The  discovery  of  it  in  the  simplest 
form  is  to  be  attributed. to  M.  Mahillon,  who 
has  found  it  in  a  square  piano  belonging  to 
M._'  Henri  Gossehn,  painter,  of  Brussels. 
The  principle  of  this  action  is  thalt  which 
was  later  perfected  by  the  addition  of  a 
good  escapement  by  Stein  of  Augsburg, 
and  was  again  later-  experimented  upon  by  Sebastian 
Erard.  Its  origin  is  perhaps  due  tp  the  contrivance  of  a 
piano  action  that  should  suit  the  shallow  clavichord  and 


Engraved  by  permission  of  Il.I.n. 


Fio.  IS.— Schroeter's  Model  tor  an  Action,  1721.' 

permit  of  its  transformation  into  a  square  piano ;  a"  trans- 
formation, Schroeter  teUs  us,  had  been  going  on  when  ha 


Fig.  19. — Znmpc's  Sqtiare  Piano  Action,  1766. 

^^Tote  his  complaint.  ,  It  will  be  observed  that  the  hammer 
is,  as  compared  ■with  other  actions,  reversed,  and  the  axis 


Fio.  20.— Old  Piano  Action  on  the  Gennea  principle  of  Escapement.    Squtrs 
Piano  belonging  to  M.  GosseUn,  Brussels. 

rises  with  the  key,  necessitating  a  fixed  means  for  raising 
the  hammer,  in  this  action  effected  by  a  rail  against  which 
the  hammer  is  jerked  up.  It  was  Stein's  merit  to  graft 
the  hopper  principle  upon  this  simple  action  ;  and  Mozart's 


1  Mason  really  iuveuted  tlie  "  celestiua,"  us  we  know  from  the  cor- 
respondeuce  of  Mary  Granville.  Under  date  of  the  llth  January 
1775  she  describes  this  invention  or  improvement  of  the  poet  as  a 
short  harpsichord  in  form,  2  feet  long,  but  played  with  the  right  hatwj 
only.  The  left  hand  controlled  a  kiud  gf  violin-bow,  which  produced 
a  charming  sostinente,  in  character  of  tone  between  the  violin  tone 
and  that  of  musical  glasses.  Mason  played  upon  it  with  great  ex 
pression. 


PIANOFORTE 


to 


approbation  of  the  invention,  when  he  met  with  it  at  Aiigs> 
burg  in  1777,  is  expressed  in  a  well-known  letter  addressed 
to  his  motlier.  No  more  "  blocking "  of  the  hammer, 
destroying  all  vibration,  waa  henceforth  to  vex  his  mind. 


tto.  21.— Stein's  Action  (the  earliest  so-called  Viennese),  1780. 

He  had  found  the  instrument  that  for  the  rest  of  his  short 
life  replaced  the  harpsichord.  M.  Mahillon  has  secured 
for  his  museum  the  only  Johann  Andreas  Stein  piano  which 
is  known  to  remain.  It  is  from  Augsburg,  dated  1780,  and 
has  Stein's  escapement  action,  two  unisons,  and  the  knee 
pedal,  then  and  later  common  in  Germany. 

Mozart's  owm  grand  piano,  preserved  at  Sakburg,  and 
the  two  grand  pianos  (the  latest  dated  1790)  by  Huhn  of 
Berlin,  preserved  at  Berlin  and  Charlottenburg,  because 
they  had  belonged  to  the  Prussian  Queen  Louise,  follow 
Stein  in  all  particulars.  These  instruments  have  three 
unisons  upwards,  and  the  muting  movement  known  as 
celeste,  which  no  doubt  Stein  had  also.  The  wrest-plank 
is  not  inverted ;  nor  is  there  any  imitation  of  Criatofori. 
We  may  regard  Stein,  coming  after  the  Seven  Years'  War 
which  had  devastated  Saxony,  as  the  German  reinventor 
of  the  grand  piano.  Stein's  instrument  was  accepted  as  a 
model,  as  we  have  seen,  in  BerKn  as  well  as  Vienna,  to  which 
city  his  business  was  transferred  in  1794  by  his  daughter 
Nanette,  known  as  an  accomplished  pianist  and  friend  of 
Beethoven,  who  at  that  time  used  Stein's  pianos.  She  had 
her  brother  in  the  business  with  her,  and  had  already,  in 
1793,  married  J.  A.  Streicher,  a  pianist  from  Stuttgart,  and 
distinguished  as  a  personal  friend  of  Schiller.  In  1802,  the 
brother  and  sister  dissolving  partnership,  Streicher  began 
himself  to  take  his  full  share  of  the  work,  and  on  Stein's 
lines  improved  the  Viennese  instrument,  so  popular  for 
many  years  and  famous  for  its  lightness  of  touch,  which 
contributed  to  the  special  character  of  the  Viennese  school 
of  pianoforte  playing.  The  firm  of  Streicher  stiU  exists  in 
Vienna;  but  since  1862,  when  Steinway's  example  caused 
a  '  complete  revolution  in  German  and  Austrian  piano- 
making,  the  old  wooden  cheap  grand  piano  has  died  out. 
We  will  quit  the  early  German  piano  with  an  illustration 
(fig.  22)  of  an  early  square  piano  action  in  an  instrument 


Fio.  22. — Oermon  Sqaaro  Action,  1783.    Flano  by  Wagner,  Dresden. 

made  by  Johann  Gottlob  Wagner  of  Dresden  in  1783. 
This  interesting  discovery  of  M.  MahUlon's  introduces  us 
to  a  rude  imitation  (in  the  principle)  of  Cristofori,  and  it 
appears  to  have  no  Tclation  whatever  to  the  clock  hammer 
notion  seen  in  Frederici's. 

Burney,  who  lived  tlirough  the  period  of  the  displace- 
ment of  the  harpsichord  by  the  pianoforte,  is  the  only 
authority  we  can  refer  to  as  to  the  introduction  of  the  latter 
instrument  into  England.  He  tells  us,'  in  his  gossiping 
way,  that  the  first  hammer  harpsichord  that  came  to 
England  was   made   by  an   English   monk  at  Komo,   a 


*  Reea's  A'cw  Cyclopiedia,  article  "  Harpsichord." 


Father  Wood,  for  an  English  gentleman,  Samuel  Crisp  of 
Chesington ;  the  tone  of  this  instrument  was  superior  to 
that  produced  by  quills,  with  the  added  power  of  the 
shades  of  piano  and  forte,  so  that,  although  the  touch 
and  mechanism  were  so  imperfect  that  nothing  quick  could 
be  executed  upon  it,  yet  in  a  slow  movement  like  the 
Dead  March  in  Saul  it  excited  wonder  and  delight. 
Fulke  GrevLUe  afterwards  bought  this  instrument  for  100 
guineas,  and  it  remained  unique  in  England  for  several 
years,  until  Plenius,  the  inventor  of  tlie  lyrichord,  made  a 
pianoforte  in  imitation  of  it.  In  tliis  instriunent  the 
touch  was  better,  but  the  tone  was  inferior.  We  have 
no  date  for  Father  Wood.  Plenius  produced  his  lyrichord, 
a  sostiiienfe  harpsichord,  in  1745.  A\Tien  Mason  imported 
a  pianoforte  in  1755,  Fulke  GreviUc's  could  have  been 
no  longer  unique..  The  Italian  origin  of  Father  Wood's 
piano  points  to  a  copy  of  Cristofori,  but  the  description  of 
its  capabilities  in  no  way  supports  this  supposition,  unless 
we  adopt  the  very  possible  theory  that  the  instrument 
had  arrived  out  of  order  and  there  was  no  one  in  London 
who  could  put  it  right,  or  would  perhaps  divine  that  it  waa 
wrong.  Burney  further  tells  us  that  the  arrival  in  London 
of  J.  C.  Bach  in  1759  was  the  motive  for  several  of  the 
second-rate  harpsichord  makers  trying  to  make  pianofortes, 
but  with  no  particular  success.  Of  these  Americus  Backers, 
said  to  be  a  Dutchman,  appears  to  have  gained  the  first 
place.  He  was  afterwards  the  inventor  of  the  so-called 
English  action,  and,  as  this  action  is  based  upon  Cristo- 
fori's,  we  may  suppose  he  at  first  followed  Silbermann  in 
copying  the  original  inventor.  There  is  an  old  play-bill  of 
Covent  Garden  in  Messrs  Broadwood's  possession,  dated 
the  16th  May  1767,  which  has  the  following  announce- 
ment : — 

"  End  of  Act  1.  Miss  Brickler  -will  sing  a  favourite  song  from 
Judith,  accompanied  by  Mr  Dibdin,  on  a  new  instrument  call'd 
Piano  Forte. 

The  mind  at  once  reverts  to  Backers  as  the  probable* 
maker  of  this  novelty.  Be  that  as  it  may,  between  177ii 
and  1776,  the  year  of  his  death,  he  produced  the  action 
continued  in  the  direct  principle  to  this  day  by  the  firm  of 
Broadwood,  or  with  a  reversed  lever  and  hammer-butt 
introduced  by  the  firm  of  Collard  in  1835. 


Fio.  23. — Grand  Piano  Action,  177C.  TIio"  EnRllflh  "  action  of  AmcrlcuB  Backcn. 


The'  escapement  lever  is  suggested  by  Cristofori's  first 
action^  to  which  Backers  has  adticd  a  contrivance  for 
regulating  it  by  means  of  a  button  and  screw.  The  check 
is  from  Cristofori's  second  action.  No  more  durable  action 
has  been  constructed,  and  it  has  always  been  found  equal, 
whether  made  in  England  or  abroad,  to  the  demands  of 
the  most  advanced  virtuo.^i.  John  Bror.dwood  and  Robert 
Stodart  were  friends,  Stodart  having  boon  Broadwood's 
pupil :   and  they  were  the  assistants  of  Backers  in  the 

XLX.  —  lo 


-r4 


P  I  A  N  0  L'  O  E  T  E 


installation  of  bis  invention.  On  hi^  death-bed  he  com- 
mended it  to  Broadwood's  care,  but  Stodart  appears  to 
have  been  the  first  to  advance  it, — Broadwood  being  pro- 


FiQ.  S4.— Broadwooa's  Grahfl  Piano" Actfoh,  1§S4;    English  dirtct  meciimUsm. 
bably  held  back  by  his  partnership  with  his  broiher-in-law, 
the  son  of  Shudi,  in  the  harpsichord  business.     (The  elder 
Shudi  had  died   in  1773.)      Stodart   soon  made  a  con- 
siderable   repiitatioa   witJi    his   "grand"   pianofortes,   a 


fio.  25.— Collal^l's  Grand  Piano  Action,  18S4.     English  action,  wittl 
reveiscd  lioppir  and  contrivance  for  repetition  added. 

designation .  he  was  the  first  to  give  them.  In  Stodart's 
grand  piano  we  first  find  an  adaptation  from  the  lyrichord 
of  Plenius,  of  steel  arches  between  the  wrest-plank  and 
bellyrail,  bridging  the  gap  up  which  the  hammers  rise,  in 
itself  an  important  cause  of  weakness.  These  are  not  found 
in  any  contemporary  German  instruments,  but  may  have 
been  part  of  Backers 's.  Imitation  of  the  harpsichord  by 
"  octaving  "  was  at  this  time  an  object  with  piano  makers. 
Zumpe's  small  square  piano  had  met  with  great  success  ;  he 
was  soon  enabled  to  retire,  and  his'  imitators,  who  were 
legion,  continued  his  model  with  its  hand  stops  for  the 
dampers  and  sourdine,  with  little  change  but  that  which 
straightened  the  keys  from  the  divergences  inherited  from 
the  clavichord.  John  Broadwood  took  this  domestic  instru- 
ment first  in  hand  to  improve  it,  and  in  the  year  1780 
succeeded  in  entirely  reconstructing  it.  He  transferred  the 
wrest-plank  and  pins  from  the  right-hand  side,  as  in  the 
clavichord,'  to  ,the  back  of  the  case,  an  improvement  uni- 
versally adopted  after -his  patent,  taken  out  in  1783, 
expired.  In  this  patent  we  first  find  the  damper  and 
piano  pedals,  since  universally  accepted,  but  at  first  in  the 
grand  pianofortes  only.  Zumpe's  action  remaining  with 
an  altered  damper,  another  inventor,  John  Geib,  about 
this  time  patented  the  hopper  with  two  separate  escape- 
ments, one  of  which  soon  became  adopted  in  the-  grass- 
hopper of  the  square  piano,  it  is  believed  by  Geib  him- 
self ;  and  Petzold,  a  Paris  maker,  appears  to  have  taken 
later  to  the  escapement  eSected  upon  the  key.  We  may 
mention  here  that  the  square  piano  was  developed  and 
.continued  in  England  until  about  the  year  1860.  when  it 
went  out  of  fashion. 

To  return  to  John  Broadwood, — ^having  launched  his 
reconstructed  square  piano,  he  next  turned  his  attention 
to  the  grand  piano  to  continue  the  improvement  of  it  from 
the  point  where  Backers  had  left  it.    The  grand  piano  was 


in  framing  and  resonance  entirely  on  the  harpsichord  prin- 
ciple, the  sound-board  bridge  being  still  continued  in  one 
undivided  length.  The  strings,  which  were  of  brass  wire 
in  the  bass,  descended  in  notes  of  three  unisons  to  the 
lowest  note  of  the  scale.  Tension  was  left  to  chance,  and 
a  reasonable  striking  line  or  place  for  the  hammers  was  not 
thought  of.  Theory  requires  that  the  notes  of  octaves 
should  be  multiples  in  the  ratio  of  1  to  2,  by  which,  taking 
the  treble  clef  C  at  one  foot,  the  lowest  F  of  thij  five-octave 
scale  would  require  a  vibrating  length  between  the  bridges 
of  12  feet.  As  only  half  this  length  could  be  conveniently 
afforded,  we  see  at  once  a  reason  for  the  above-mentioned 
deficiencies.  Only  the  three  octaves  of  the  treble,  which 
had  lengths  practically  ideal,  could  be  tolerably  adjusted. 
Then  the  striking-line,  which  should  be  at  ah  eighth  or  not' 
less, than  a  ninth  or  tenth  of  the  vibrating  length,  and  had 
never  been, cared  for  in  the  harpsichord,  was  in  the  lo'west 
two  octaves  out  oi  all  proportion,  With  corresponding  di^ 
advantage  to  the  tone.  John- Broadwood  did  not  venture 
alone  upon  the  path  tow-ards  rectifying  thes9  faults.  He 
called  in  the  aid  of  professed  men  of  science — Cavallo,, 
who  in  1788  published  his  calculations  of  the  tension, 
and  Dr  Gray,  of  the  British  Museum.  Tlie  problem  wa.? 
solved  by  dividing  the  sound-board  bridge,  the  lower  half  of 
^yhich  was  advanced  to  carry  the  bass  strings,  which  were 
still  of  brass.  Xli9  uxii  attempts  to  equalize  the  tension  and" 
improve  the  striking-place  were  here  set  forth,  to  the  great 
advantage  of  the  instrument,  which  in  its  wooden  construe-, 
tion  might  now  be  considered  complete.  The  greatest 
pianists  of  that  epoch,  except  Mozart  and  Beethoven, 
were  assembled  in  London, — Clementi,  who  first  gave  the 
pianoforte  its  own  character,  raising  it  from  being  a  mere 
variety  of  the  harpsichord,  his  pupils  Cramer  and  for  a 
time  Hummel,  later  on  John  Field,  and  also  the  brilliant 
virtuosi  Dussek  and  Steibelt.  To  please  Dussek,  Broad- 
wood in  1791  carried  his  five-octave,  F  to  F,  keyboard,  by 
adding  keys  upwards,  to  five  and  a  half  octaves,  F  to  C 
In  1794  the  additional  bass  half  octave  to  C,  which  Shudi 
had  first .  introduced  in  his  double  harpsichords,  was  given 
to  the  piano.  Steibelt,  while  in  England,  instituted  the 
familiar  signs  for  the  employment  of  the  pedals,  which 
owes  its  charm  to  excitement  of  the  imagination  instigated 
by  power  over  an  acoustical  phenomenon,  the  sjinpathetic 
vibration  of  the  strings.  In  1799  Clementi  founded  a 
pianoforte  manufactory,  to  be  subsequently  developed  and 
carried  on  by  Messrs  Collard. 

The  first  square  piano  made  in  France  is  said  to  Lave 
been  constructed  in  1776  by  Sebastian  Erard,  a  young 
Alsatian.  In  1786  he  came  to  England,  and  founded  the 
London  manufactory  of  harps  and  pianofortes  bearing  his 
name.     That  eminent  mechanician  and  inventor  is  said  to 


Fio,  26.— Erard's  Double  Escapement  Action.  18S4.  The  doutle  escapement  or 
repetition  is  effected  by  a  spring  irf  the  balance  pn^sslng  the  hinged  lever 
upiyards,  to  allow  the  l^oppcr  wliich  delivers  the  blow  to  return  to  ita  position 
under  the  nose  o(  the  hamnier,  before  the  k^y  has  risen  again. 

have  at  first  adopted  for  his  pianos  the  English  models. 
However,  m  1794  aad  1801,  as  is  shown  by  his  patenU, 


PIANOFORTE 


ii] 


he  was  certainly  engaged  upon  the  elementary  action 
described  as  appertaining  to  M.  Gosselin's  piano,  of  probably 
German  origin.  In  his  long-continued  labour  of  inventing 
and  constructing  a  double  eicaitcnicnt  action,  Erard  appears 
to  have  sought  to  combine  the  English  power  of  gradation 
of  tone  with  the  German  lightness  of  touch.  He  took  out 
his  first  patent  for  a  "  repetition  "  action  in  1808,  claiming 
for  it  "  the  power  of  giving  repeated  strokes  without 
missing  or  failure,  by  very  small  angular  motions  of  the 
key  itself."  He  did  not,  however,  succeed  in  producing 
his  famous  repetition,  or  double  escapement  action  until 
1821 ;  it  was  ther  patented  by  his  nephew  Pierre  Erard, 
who,  when  the  patent  expired  in  England  in  1835,  proved 
a  loss  from  the  difficulties  of  carrying  out  the  invention, 
which  induced  the  House  of  Lords  to  grant  an  extension 
of  the  patent. 

Although  some  great  pianists  have  been"  opposed  to 
double  escapement,  notably  Kalkbrenner,  Chopin,  and  Dr 
Hans  von  Biilow,  Erard's  action,  in  its  complete  or  a 
shortened  form  as  introduced  by  Hcrz,  is  now  more  exten- 
sively used  than  at  any  former  period.    Erard  invented  in 


■  Fio.  57.— Stolnway's  Grand  I'iaro  Action,  1884.    The  double  escapement  as  in 
Kriird's,  but  \vitii  shortened  balance  and  usual  chuck. 

1808  an  upward  bearing  to  the  wrest-plank  bridge,  by 
means  of  agraffes  or  studs  of  metal  through  holes  in  which 
the  strings  are  made  to  pass,  bearing  against  the  upper 
side.  The  wooden  bridge  with  down-bearing  strings  is 
■clearly  not  in  relation  with  upward-striking  hammor-s,  the 
tendency  of  which  must  be  to  raise  the  strings  from  the 
bridge,  to  the  detriment  of  the  tone.  A  long  brass  bridge 
on  this  principle  was  introduced  by  William  Stodart  in 
1822.  A  pressure-bar  bearing  of  later  introduction  is 
■claimed  for  the  French  maker,  M.  Bord,  and  is  very  fre- 
■quently  employed,  by  German  makers  especially.  The  first 
to  see  the  importance  of  iron  sharing  witli  wood  (ultimately 
■almost  supplanting  it)  in  pianoforte  framing  was  a  native 
■of  England  and  a  civil  engineer  by  profession,  John  Isaac 
Hawkins,  who  has  been  best  known  as  the  inventor  of 
the  ever-pointed  pencil.  He  was  living  at  Philadelphia, 
U.S.,  when  he  invented  and  first  jiroducod  tlie  familiar 
cottage  i)ianoforte — "  portable  grand  "  as  ho  then  called 
it.  He  patented  it  in  America,  his  father,  Isaac  Hawkins, 
taking  out  the  patent  for  him  in  I'higland  in  the  .same  year, 
1800.  It  will  be  observed  that  the  illustration  hero  given 
(fig.  28)  represents  a  wreck  ;  but  a  draughtsman's  restora- 
tion might  be  open  to  question. 

There  had  been  upright  grand  pianos  as  well  as  upright 
harpsichords,  the  horizontal  instrument  being  turned  up 
upon  its  wider  end  and  a  keyboard  and  action  adapted  to 
it.  William  Southwell,  an  Irish  pianomaker,  had,  in 
1798,  tried  a  similar  experiment  with  a  square  piano, 
to  be"'  repeated  in  later  years  by  W.  F.  Collnrd  of 
London  ;  but  Hawkins  was  the  first  to  make  a  piano,  or 
pianino,  with  the  strings  descending  to  the  floor,  the 
l<eyboard  being  raised,  and  this,  although  at  the  moment 
the  chief,  was  not  his  only  merit.  Ho  anticipated  nearly 
every  discovery  that  has  since  been  introduced  as  novel. 
His  instrument  is  in  a  complete  iron  frame,  independent 


of  the  case ;  and  in  this  frame,  strengthened  by  a  system 
of  iron  resistance  rods  combined  with  an  iron  ui)per  bridge, 
his  sound-board  is^  entirely  suspended.     An  apparatus  for 


Fio.  28.— Hawkins's  Portable  Grand  Piano,  1800.  An  upriKht  Instniment,  lh« 
original  of  the  modern  cottage  piano  or  pianino.  In  Messrs  Broadwood's 
museum  and  unrcstored. 

tuning  by  mechanical  screws  regulates  the  tension  of  the 
strings,  which  are  of  equal  length  throughout.  The  action, 
in  metal  supports,  anticipates  Wornum's  in  the  checking, 
and  still  later  ideas  in  a  contrivance  for  repetition.  This 
remarkable  bundle  of  inventions  was  brought  to  London 
and  exhibited  by  Hawkins  himself,  but  the  instrument 
being  poor  in  the  tone  failed  to  bring  him  pecuniary 
reward  or  the  credit  he  deserved.  Southwell  appears  to 
have  been  one  of  the  first  to  profit  by 
Hawkins's  ideas  by  bringing  out  the  high 
cabinet  pianoforte,  with  hinged  sticker 
action,  in  1807.  All  that  he  could,  how- 
ever, patent  in  it  was  the  simple  damper 
action,  turning  on  a  pivot  to  relieve  the 
dampers  from  the  strings,  which  is  still 
frequently  used  with  such  actions.  The 
next  steps  for  producing  the  lower  or  cot- 
tage upright  piano  were  taken  by  Robert 
Wornum,  who  in  1811  produced  a  dia- 
gonally and  in  1813  a  vertically  strung 
one.  Wornum's  perfected  crank  action 
was  not  complete  until  18*26,  when  it  was 
patented  for  a  cabinet  piano ;  but  it  was 
not  really  introduced  until  three  years 
later,  when  Wornum  applied  it  to  his  littlo 
"piccolo."  The  principle  of  this  centred 
lever  check  action  was  introduced  into 
Paris  by  PloyeP  and  Pape,  and  thence  has 
gone  to  Germany  and  America.  In  Eng- 
land it  has  now  nearly  superseded  the  once 
favourite  leather-hinged  action. 

It  was  not,  however,  from 
Hawkins's  invention  that  iron  bo-  I 
came  introduced  as  essential  to  tho  A 
structure  of  a  pianoforte.  This  Fio.  so.— Womum'i 
was  due  to  William  Allen,  a  yoimg 
Scotsman  in  tiie  emjiloy  of  tlio 
Stodarts.  Ho  devised  a  metal  system  of  framing  intended 
primarily  for  compensation,  but  soon  to  become,  in  other 
hands,  a  framing  for  resistance.  His  idea  was  to  meet  tho 
divergence  in  tuning  caused  in  brass  and  iron  strings  by 

■  '  Plcyol  cihibitod  n  snioll  upright  piano  in  Paris  in  1827.     Piinr 
£ctLTd  did  not  turn  bis  sttontion  to  upright  pianos  until  18!)1. 


DprlRht 

Action,  l«2r..  Tho  iirlcltial 
of  llio  now  universal  crank 
action  In  upright  pianos. 


70 


PIANOFORTE 


atmospheric  changes  by  compensating  tubes  and  plates  of 
Uie  same  metals,  guaranteeing  their  stability  by  a  cross 
tetoning  of  stout  wooden  bars  and  a  metal  bar  across  the 
irrest-plank.  Allen,  being  simply  a  tuner,  had  not  the  full 
practical  knowledge  for  carryirg  out  the  idea.  He  had  to 
illy  himself  with  Stodarts'  foreman,  Thom;  and  Allen  and 
rhom  patented  the  invention  in  January  1820.  The  firm 
if  Stodart  at  once  acquired  the  patent.  TVe  have  now 
irrived  at  an  important  epoch  in  pianoforte  construction, — 
the  abolition,  at  least  in  England  and  France,  of  the  wooden 
jonstruction  in  favour  of  a  combined  construction  of  iron 
tnd  wood,  the  former  material  graduaUy  asserting  pre- 
sminence.  Allen's  design  is  shown  in  fig,  30.  The  long 
bars  shown  in  the  dia- 
^am  are  really  tubes 
fixed  at  one  end  only; 
those  of  iron  lie  over  the 
iron  or  steel  wire,  while 
those  of  brass  lie  over 
the  brass  wire,  the  metal 
plates  to  which  they  are 
attached  being  in  the 
same  correspondence.  At 
once  a  great  advance  was 
made  in  the  possibility  of 
using  heavier  strings  than 
could  be  stretched  before, 
without  danger  to  the 
durability  of  the  case  and 
frame.  The  next  step 
was  in  1821  to  a  fixed 
iron  string-plate,  the  in- 
vention of  one  of  Broad- 
woods'  workmen,  Samuel 
Herv^,  which  was  in  the 
first  instance  applied  to 
one  of  the  square  pianos 
of  that  firm.  The  great 
advantage  in  the  fixe^^ 
plate  was  a  more  even 
solid  coimterpoise  to  the 
drawing  or  tension  of  the  strings  and  the  abolition  of  their 
undue  length  behind  the  bridge,  a  reduction  which  Isaac 
Carter  1  had  tried  some  years  before,  but  unsuccessfuUy, 
to  accomplish  with  a  plate  of  wood.  So  generally  was 
attention  now  given  to  improved  methods  of  resistance 
that  it  has  not  been  found  possible  to  determine  who  first 
practically  introduced  those  long  iron  or  steel  resistance 
bars  which  are  so  familiar  a  feature  in  modern  grand 
pianos;  They  were  experimented  on  as  substitutes  for  the 
wooden  bracing  by  Joseph  Smith  in  1798;  but  to  James 
Broadwood  belongs  the  credit  of  trying  them  first  above 
the  sound-board  in  the  treble  part  of  the  scale  as  long  ago 
4S  1808,  and  again  in  1818 ;  he  did  not  succeed,  however, 
'  in  fixing  them  properly.  The  introduction  of  fixed  resist- 
ance bars  is  really  due  to  observation  of  Allen's  compen- 
sating tubes,  which  were,  at  the  same  time,  resisting. 
Sebastian  and  Pierre  Erard  seem  to  have  been  first  in  the 
field  in  1823  with  a  complete  system  of  nine  resistance 
bars  from  treble  to  bass,  ^^ith  a  simple  mode  of  fastening 
them  through  the  sound-board  to  the  wooden  beams 
beneath,  but,  although  these  bars  appear  in  their  patent  of 
1824,  which  chiefly  concerned  their  repetition  action,  the 
Erards  did  not  either  in  France  or  England  claim  them  as 
A  original  invention,  nor  is  there  any-  string-platt  combined 

'  Sometime  foreman  to  the  pijinoforte  maker  Mott,  who  attracted 
nuch  attention  by  a  piano  with  sostenente  effect,  produced  by  a 
roller  and  silk  attachments  in  1817.  But  a  sostenente  piano,  ho'f- 
(yer  perfect,  is  no  longer  a  true  piano  such  as  Beethovsn  and  Chopin 
r:ote  for. 


Fio.30. — Allen's  CompeDsaflng  Gi"and  Piano, 
1820.  The  first  complete  metal  fi-oming 
lystem  applied  over  the  strings. 


with  them  in  their  patent.  James  Broadwood,  by  iils 
patent  of  1827,  claimed  the  combination  of  string-plate 
and  resistance  bars,  which  w-as  clearly  the  completion  of 
the  wood  and  metal  instrument,  differing  from  Allen's  in 
the  nature  of  the  resistance  being  fixed.  Broadwood, 
however,  left  the  bass  bars  out,  but  added  a  fourth  bar  in 
the  middle  to  the  three  in  the  treble  he  had  previously 
used.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  it  was  the  trebles 
that  gave  way  in  the  old  wooden  construction  before  the 
tenor  and  bass  of  the  instrument.  But-the«weight  of  the 
stringing  was  always  increasing,  and  a  heavy  close 
overspinning  of  the  bass  strings  had  become  general.  The 
resistance  bars  were  increased  to  five,  six,  seven,  eight,  and, 
as  we  have  seen,  even  nine,  according  to  the  ideas  of  the 
dififerent  English  and  French  makers  who  used  them  in 
their  pursuit  of  stability. 

The  next  important  addition  to  the  grand  piano  in 
order  of  time  was  the  harmonic  bar  of  Pieire  Erard, 
introduced  in  1838.  This  was  a  gun-metal  bar  of  alter- 
nate-dressing and  drawing  power  by  means  of  screws  which 
were  tapped  into  the  wrest-plank  immediately  above  the 
treble  bearings ;  making  that  part  of  the  instrument 
nearly  immovable,  this  favoured  the  production  of  higher 
harmonics  to  the  treble  notes,  recognized  in  what  we  com- 
monly call  "ring."  A  similar  bar,  subsequently  extended  by 
Broadwood  across  the  entire  wrest-plank,  was  to  prevent 
any  tendency  in  the  ^vrest-plank  to  rise,  from  the  combined 
upward  drawing  of  the  strings.  A  method  of  fastening  the 
strings  on  the  string-plate  depending  upon  friction,  and 
thus  dispensing  with  "eyes,"  was  a  contribution  of  the 
Collards,  who  had  retained  James  Stewart,  who  had 
been  in  America  with  Chickering,  and  was  a  man  of 
considerable  inventive  power.  This  invention  was  intro- 
duced in  182".  Between  1847  and  1849  Mr  Henry 
Fowler  Broadwood,  son  of  James,  and  grandson  of  John 
Broadwood,  and  also 
great  grandson  of 
Shudi  (Tschudi),  in- 
vented a  grand  piano- 
forte to  depend  prac- 
tically upon  iron,  in 
whicli,  to  avoid  the 
conspicuous  inequali- 
ties caused  by  the 
breaking  of  the  scale 
with  resistance  bars, 
there  should  be  no 
bar  parallel  to  the 
strings  except  a  bass 
bar,  while  another 
flanged  resistance 
bar,  as  an  entirely 
novel  feature,  crossed 
over  the  strings  from 
the  bass  corner  of 
the  wrest-plank  to 
a  point  upon  the 
string-plate  where 
the  greatest  accumu- 
lation of  tension 
strain  was  found. 
Mr  Broadwood  has 
not  continued,  with- 
out some  compro- 
mise, this  extreme 
means.      Since   the 


Fio.  31.— Broadwood's  Iron  Grand  Plann,  1884. 
Complete  iron  frame  with  diagonal  lesistanco 
bar. 


renunciation  of  ordinary  resistance 
Great  Exhibition  of  1851  he  has 
employed  an  ordinary  straight  bar  in  the  middle  of  hia 
concert  grand  scale,  his  smaller  grands  having  frequently 
two  such  as  well  as  the  long  bass  bar.  From  1862  he  hae 
covered  his  wrest-plank  with  x  thick  plate  of   iron  into 


PIANOFORTE 


winch  the  tuning  pins  scrffw  as  well  as  into  the  wood 
beneath,  thus  avoiding  the  crushing  of  the  wood  hy  the 
constant  pressure  of  the  pin  across  the  pull  of  the  string, 
an  ultimate  source  of  danger  to  durability. 
^The  introduction  of  iron  into  pianoforte  structure  has 
been  differently  and  independently  effected  in  America, 
the  fundamental  idea  there  being  a  single  casting  for  the 
metal  plate  and  bars,  instead  of  fprging  or  casting  them  in 
separate  pieces.  Alphseus  Babcock  was  tie  pioneer  to 
this  kind  of  metal  construction.  He  also  was  bitten  -with 
the  compensation  notion,  and  had  cast  an  iron  ring  for  a 
square  piano  in  1825,  which  is  not  said  to  have  succeeded, 
but  gave  the  clew  to  a  single  casting 
resistance  framing,  which  was  suc- 
cessfully accomplished  by  Conrad 
Meyer,  in  Philadelphia,  in  1833,  in 
a  square  piano  which  still  exists,  and 
w&s  shown  in  the  Paris  Exhibition  of 
1878.  Meyer's  idea  was  taken  up  and 
improved  upon  by  Jonas  CSickering 
of  Boston,  who  applied  it  to  the 
grand  piano  as  well  as  to  the  square, 
and  brought  the  principle  up  to  a 
high  degree  of  perfection, — establish- 
ing by  it  the  independent  construc- 
tion of  the  American  pianoforte. 

We  have  now  to  do  with  over-  or 
cross-stringing,  by  which  the  bass 
division  of  the  strings  is  made  to 
cross  over  the  tenor  part  of  the  scale 
in  a  single,  double,  or  treble  disposi- 
tion at  diverging  angles,— the  object 
being  in  the  first  instance  to  get 
longer  bass  strings  than  are  attainable 
in  a  parallel  scale,  and  in  the  next 
to  open  out  the  scale  and  extend  the 
area  of  bridge  pressure  on  the  sound- 
board. In  the  18th  century  clavi- 
chords were  sometimes  overstrung  in 
the  lowest  octave  to  get  a  clearer  fio.  32. —  Meyer's  Mctai 
tone  in  that  very  indistinct  part  S« {?;/,f„"'g';rc Jtlr 
of  the  instrument  (strings  tuned  an 
octave  higher  being  employed).  The  first  suggestion  for 
the  overstringing  in  the  piano  was  made  by  the  cele- 
brated, flute-player  and  inventor  Theobald  Boehm,  who 
carried  it  beyond  theory  in  London,  in  1831,  by  employing 
a  small  firm  located  in  Cheapside,  Gerock  &  Wolf,  to 
make  some  overstrung  pianos  for  him.  'Boehm  expected 
to  gain  in  tone;  Papo,  an  ingenious  mechanician  in  Paris, 
tried  a  like  experiment  to  gain  economy  in  dimensions,  his 
notion  being  to  supply  the  best  piano  possible  with  the 
least  outlay  of  means.  Tomkinson  in  London  continued 
Pape's  model,  but  neither  Boehm's  nor  Pape's  took  perma- 
nent root.  The  Great  Exhibition  of  1851  contained  a  grand 
piano,  made  by  Lichtenthal  of  St  Petersburg,  overstrung 
in  order  to  gain  .symmetry  by  two  angle  sides  to  the  case. 
It  was  regarded  as  a  curiosity  only.  A  few  years  later, 
in  1855,  Henry  Engelhard  Steinway  (originally  Steinweg), 
who  had  emigrated  from  Brunswick  to  New  York  in  1849, 
and  had  established  the  firm  of  Steinway  &  Sons  in  1853 
in  that  city,  effected  the  combination  of  an  overstrung 
scale  with  tlie  American  iron'  frame,  which,  exhibited  in 
grand  and  square  instruments  shown  in  London  in  the 
International  E.xhibition  of  18G2,  excited  the  attention  of 
European  pianoforte  makers,  leading  ultimately  to  import- 
ant results.  The  Chickering  firm  claim  to  have  antici- 
pated the  Steinways  in  this  invention.  They  assert  that 
Jonas  Chickering  had  begun  a  square  piano  on  this  com- 
bined system  in  1853,  but,  he  dying  before  it  was  completed, 
it  was  brought, out  later.    It  is  often  difficult  to  adjudicate 


upon  the  claims  of  inventors.,  so  rarely  is  an  invention  the 
product  of  one  man's  mind  alone.  However,  the  principle 
has  been  taken  up  and  generally  adopted  in  America  and 
Germany,  and  has  found  followers  elsewhere,  not  only  in 
grand  but  in  upright  pianos,  to  the  manufacture  of  which 
it  has  given,  and  particularly  in  Germany,  a  powerful 
impetus.  But,  in  spite  of  this  general  recognition,  the 
overstringing,  as  at  present  effected,  is  attended  with  grave 
disadvantages,  in  disturbing  the  balance  of  tone  by  in- 
troducing thick,  heavy  basses,  which,  like  the  modern 
pedal  organs,  bear  no  just  relation  to  that  part  of  the 
keyboard  where  the  part-^vriting  Ues.  The  great  increase 
also  of  tension 
which  is  held  up 
as  a  gain,  acts  pre- 
judicially 'Upon 
the  durability  of 
the  instrument,  as 
no  artificial  screw- 
ing up  of  the 
sound-board  can 
always  preserve 
the  elasticity  of 
the  fibres  of  the  fir 
tree  (Abies  excelsa 
in  Europe,  Abies 
alba'  in  America) 
of  which  it  is 
made.  The  re- 
markable improve- 
ments in  the  draw- 
ing of  the  cast 
steel  wire  pro- 
duced in  Birming- 
ham, Vienna,'  and 
Nuremberg  (this 
last  initiated  by 
Boehm)  have  ren- 
dered   very    high 

tensions       practic-  f'O- 33.— Stelnwaj's  Grand  rtano,  ISSI.  MedJ friunlog 
,  ,  -rrr     i     i-  Jn  a  single  cnstlrig  uiid  ovel'strung. 

able.     We  believe 

they  have  been  overstated  in  figures ;  it  is  certain,  however, 
that  Broadwood's  seven-octavo  concert  grands  have  a 
tension  of  not  less  than  sixteen  tons  when  at  the  English 
orchestral  pitch, — the-notes  of  the  ideal  lengths  each  draw- 
ing 450  BE).  We  have  no  such  accurate  statement  to  offer 
of  the  American  and  German  concert  grands,  but  we  regard 
Steinway's  as  of  not  less  than  twenty-two  tons  tension. 

'  Whatever  of  importance  h-is  been  introduced  in  the 
structure  of  the  pianoforte  wo  believe  we  have  attributed 
to  its  legitimate  inventor  or  to  the  manufacturer  who  haa 
placed  it  in  the  light  of  day.  It  would  be  impossible 
within  reasonable  limits  to  chronicle  the  variations  which 
have  taken  place  in  the  barrings  of  sound-boards  on  which 
their  resonant  structure  depends,  the'disposition  of  wooden 
beams  or  metal  bars,  the  adaptation  of  mechanical  action, 
or  any  of  those  countless  modifications  upon  which  finally 
depends  the  individual  character  of  an  instrument  worlhj 
to  bo  presented  and  upheld  as  a  work  of  art.  There  an; 
many  names  of  first-rate  piauoforto  makers  whose  placo 
has  not  been  in  this  record,  simply  because  they  have  not 
ranked  with  the  initiators  or  perfecters  of  inventions  that 
have  been  accepted  as  of  paramount  importance. 

Tlio  earliest  keyboard  inatrumcnt  makers  were  to  bo  foiinii  ir 
monasteries  or  collegiate  foundations,  and  Buch  lav  help  as  mn) 
have  been  employed  was  at  best  of  tho  roufibeRt  kind.  In  the  next 
epoch  the  artisU  Ruilds  in  cities'nbsorbcd  lay  musical  instrument 
Hi.'ikei^,  notably  on  account  of  tho  then  universal  practice  ol 
making  such  instruments  benuliful  ;  ami,  indeed,  wo  are  indebted 
to  Ibis' for  tho  preservation  of  manv  spinets  and  harpsichords  in 
museums  and  private  coUectioua.     Xho  full  members  of  the  craft-, 


78 


P  I  A  — P  I  A 


giiiWs  were  all  masters  who  had  terminated  their  apprenticeships 
by  producing  complete  instruments  as  "master-pieces,"  made 
according  to  the  rules  and  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  wardens  or 
deacons  of  the  guilds.  A  trial  of  this  kind  lasted  long  in  many 
crafts — for  instance,  in  the  case  of  Scottish  cabinetmakers'  inden- 
tures, an  apprentice's  freedom  was  only  gained  after  the  test  produc- 
tion of  an  "  essay  "  piece  of  work,  duly  authenticated  and  admitted. 
Spinets  and  harpsichords  were  bound  to  bear  the  inscription  of 
the  maker's  name,  or  to  show  his  trade  mark  as  a  guarantee  for 
honest  workmanship.  Tlie  master's  sons  and  apprentices  were,  in 
the  master's  workshops,  probationers  of  tlie  guild  and  protected  by 
it.  Even  in  the  17th  century  we  hear  little  about  journeymen, 
who,  as  the  name  implies,  would  be  paid  by  the  day.  But  the 
extension  of  musical  instrument  workshops  about  the  beginning  of 
the  18th  century  was  one  of  the  signs  of  the  weakened  power  of  the 
guilds— particularly  in  Great  Britain.  In  France  it  needed  the 
Kevolution  to  entirely  abolish  them. 

Throughout  the  18th  century  journeywork  and  apprenticeship 
were  "eneral.  Wages,  compared  with  the  cost  of  living,  were  meagre, 
and  the  day's  work,  not  unfrequently  extended  by  overtime,  was  a 
long  one.  The  result  was  a  slow  production.  The  English  cabinet- 
makers, however,  owing  to  disputes  which  at  last  called  for  judicial 
interference,  in  the  year  1788  brought  out  their  book  of  prices 
which  was  the  foundation  of  the  present  piece-work  system,  riano- 
forte  makers  in  course  of  time  adopted  this  new  departure  with  the 
result  of  quicker  work  and  higher  wages,  benefiting  alike  the  master 
and  man.  The  next  industrial  revolution  was  inaugurated  some- 
where about  1815,  by  the  introduction  of  machinery  to  save  manual 
labour,  the  division  of  which  had  already  been  instituted,  and  by 
the  use  of  steam.  Machinery  has,  as  yet,  been  extended  to  its 
furthest  limit  in  America,  where  labour-saving  is  relied  upon  as  a 
powerful  ally  against  strikes,  which  are  more  frequently  victorious 
in  the  New  than  in  the  Old  "World.  Simultaneously  a  dislike  has 
arisen  to  apprenticeships  ;  and  even  in  Germany,  the  traditional 
land  of  the  apprentice,  this  mode  of  acquirement  has  weakened. 

Turning  to  the  commercial  importance  of  the  pianoforte,  we  find 
that  we  have  to  face  great  difficulties  in  order  to  obtain  anything  like 
trustworthy  informati<rn.  It  is  true  official  blue-books  give  yearly 
statements  of  exports  and  imports,  but  as  they  do  not  separate  the 
pianoforte  from  other  musical  instruments  an  analysis  is  impossible. 
Personal  inquiry  again'among  pianoforte  makers  brings  but  scattered 
information,  partly  from  the  natural  inclination  to  enhance  business 
returns,  and  partly  from  an  equally  nahn-al  disinclination  to  impart 
that  which,  if  spoken  of  at  all,  should  be  confidential.  From  this 
dilemma  we  fall  back  upon  gleanings  of  intelligence  either  of  our 
own  gathering  or  as  afforded  by  the  leading  pianoforte  trade  organs 
in  England  and  Germany — the  London  Music  Trades  Meview  and 
the  Leipsio  Zcitschrift  fiir  Instrumcntcnbau. 

The  chief  centres  of  the  pianofortei  trade  are  London,  Paris,  Berlin, 
Leipsic,  Dresden,  Stuttgart,  Hamburg,  Vienna,  St  Petersburg, 
Brussels,  New  York,  Boston,  and  Baltimore.  The  greatest  cen- 
tralizations are  found  in  London  and  Paris, — very  few  pianofortes 
being  made  in  the  United  Kingdom  or  France,  excepting  perhaps  at 
Marseilles,  out  of  those  cities.  But  in  Germany  and  the  United 
States  there  are  pianoforte  makers  in  many  towns  besides  tliose  we 
have  named.  Pianofortes  are  made  in  Italy  at  Turin,  Milaii,  Flo- 
rence, Naples,  and  Palermo,  and  in  Spain  at  Barcelona  (principally), 
Madrid,  and  Saragossa.  The  large  export  trade  belonged. formerly  to 
England  and  France,  but  it  has  been  weakened  of  late  years  by  the 
commercial  activity  of  the  Germans,  who  have  besides  copied  success- 
fully and  with  the  advantage  of  much  lower  wages  recent  Americac 
models.  German  pianofortes  are  now  much  found  in  Great  Britain, 
where  free  trade  has  favoured  their  introduction, and  in  the  Australian 
colonies  ;  they  have  also  outrivalled  the  French  in  Holland ;  but  we 
believe  France  still  keep»  the  trade  of  southern  Europe,  as  the  United 
Slates  mainly  supply  Canada.  English  exports  of  good  makers  will 
be  found  all  over  the  world  ;  but  some  important  markets  have  been 
lost  through  the  inferior  instruments  consigned  or  sold  because  they 
were  cheap,  and  were  supposed  to  be  good  enough. 

The  United  States  and  Germany  appear  to  employ  the  greatest 
number  of  workmen  in  the  pianoforte  handicraft,  Germany  pro- 
ducing the  largest  numbers  of  instruments.  In  adopting,  how- 
ever, the  statistics  given,  we  must  not  forget  to  take  into  account 
that  custom  of  advertising  which  leavens  nearly  every  statement. 
There  are  said  to  be  upwards  of  8000  workmen  employed  in  piano- 
making  in  America.  The  Messrs  Steinway  claim  for  America  an 
annual  production  of  about  25,000  pianofortes  of  all  kind*.  We 
liaidly  feel  disposed  to  allow  Germany  73,000,  with  a  less  number 
pf  workmen,  viz.,  7834  ;  but  such  is  the  statement  put  forward,  it 
is  said,  by  a  semi-official  soiu-ce,  the  Deutsche  Considats-Zeitung. 
It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  machinery  adds  its  power  in- 
jlefinitely  to  the  number  of  men  employed,  but  this  occurs  more 
in  America  than  in  Germany.  A  recent  strike  in  Paris  repre- 
sented the  pianoforte  trade  society  as  consisting  of  5000  members  ; 
and  we  shall  not  be  far  out  in  crediting  that  city  with  a  produc- 
tion of  20,000  instruments  yearly.  The  number  made  ia  Loudon 
annually  ma^  be  taken  as  reaching  at  least  35,000. 


Bibliography.— A.  Schllck,  Spieiie!  der  firgelmatlier,  Jfalnz?.  1511.  Berlin  rcpr.,. 
1SG9;  S.  Virdunp,  Mttsica  getuscht  und ausig'^zogev ,  Bttscl.  1511,  repiinted  in  fuc- 
simile,  Btrlin.  lyS2;  M.  Agiicola.  Musira  Instrumeniatis,  Wittembcig,  1329;  O. 
Lusciniu^,  iliimrgta  sire  Praxis  Musicx,  Sfvasbuic.  1536;  31.  PrSBtorius,. 
Sijjitagma  Musicum,  vol.  i.,  Wittemberg.  1615,  vols.  li.  and  iii.  in  German,  Wolfeii- 
l.iittel,  lfll9;  JI.  .Mersenne,  /Jarmonicorum  (Paris,  1635),  and  Barmonie  Univer- 
Sf//e  (Paris,  16311);  C.  Huygens,  Correspondance.  Jonkbloet  et  Lnnd,  Levdcn, 
1SS2 ;  T.  JIace,  Mttsick's  Montimtnl,  London,  1676 ;  J.  S.  Bad),  J)as  Wohltem- 
perirte  Clavier,  Coetlu-n,  1722;  C.  P.  E.  Bach,  Verstich  ijber  die  tea/ire  Art  das 
Clariertu  spielen.  Beitin,  1753;  J.  Adlnng,  Miisica  itechanica  Orgatitrdi,  Beilin, 
176S  ;  C.  Burney.  The  Present  State  of  Music  in  Pmnce  and  Italy  (London,  1771), 
and  TAe  Present  State  of  Music  in  Germany,  the  yet'hertands,  <tc.  (London,  1772); 
W.  A.  Jloziirt.  Brie/e,  Leipsic,  1678;  D.  St'cibelr,  Three  Sonatas,  Op.  35,  picface 
(Londo.i,  1709).  and  Methods  de  Piano  Forte  (Paris,  1S05) ;  F.  J.  F^lis.  "  Esqnisse 
de  I'Histoire  du  Piano,"  in  tlie  Revue  et  Gazette  Musicate  (Pari.*5,  1830),  partly 
translated  in  tiie  Harmonicon  (London,  1830-31),  "  Exposition  Universelle  de 
Londres,"  in  Gazette  Musicate  (Paris,  1851),  Exposition  Vniverselle  de  Paris, 
Rapport  du  Jury  (Palis,  1855),  "  Exposition  Internationale  de  Loiidl-es"  in 
Gazette  Musicale  (Paris,  1862),  and  Exposition  Universelle  de  Paris,  Rappori 
du  Jury  (Paris,  1867) ;  J.  S.  Broadwood,  Some  Notes  made  in  1838,  witll  observa- 
ti<ins  and  elucidations  by  H.  F.  Broadwood,  London,  1862 ;  Kuetzinp,  Das  Wissen- 
scha/tliche  der  Fortepiano  Baukunst,  Bern,  1844 ;  S.  and  P.  Erard,  London 
Exhibition,  London,  1851;  W.  Pole,  "JIusical  Instruments  of  the  Great  Exhibi- 
tion," from  Jfeu-lon's  Patent  Journal  (London,  1851),  and  in  Jurors'  Reports, 
International  Exhibition  (London,  1SG2);  J.  Fischhoff,  Versuch  einer  Geschichte 
des  Clavterbaues,  Vienna,  1S53;  Anonymous,  Notes  sur  les  Travaux  de  MM. 
Erard,  Paris,  1855  ;  C.  A.  Andr^,  Der  Clavierbau,  Offenbach,  1855;  H.  Welcker 
von  Gontershausen,  Der  Ftugel  Oder  die  Besehaffenheit  des  Pianos  in  alien  Formen 
{Frankfort,  1856),  and  Der  Clavierbau  in  seiner  Tlieorie,  Technik,  und  Geschichte 
(Frankfort,  1870);  E.  F.  Rimbault,  The  Pianoforte,  London.  I860;  J.  Broadwood 
and  Sons,  international  Exhibition,  London,  1862;  L.  de  Burbure,  Recherclies  sur 
les  Facteurs  de  Clavecins  d'Anvers,  Brussels,  1863  ;  A.  W.  Ambros,  Geschichte  der 
Mu3)t,  vol.  ii.,  Breslau,  1864  ;  0.  Paul,  Geschichte  des  Claviers  (Leipsic.  1868),  and 
Amtiche  Bericfit  iiber  die  Wiener  ^i/js?ef/(m?  tm  Ja/irc  1873  (Brunswick,  1874) ; 
G.  F.  Silvers,  It  Pianoforte  Guida  Pratica,  Kaples,  1868;  Patents:  Abridgments 
of  Specifications  relating  to  Musical  Instruments,  London,  1871  ;  P.  Rombo^uts 
and  T.  Van  Lerius,  De  Liggeren  der  Anttcerpsche  Sint  Lucasgilde,  vol.  1.,  .Antwerp, 
1872,  and  vol.  ii..  The  Hapne;  J.  Bluethnei"  and  H.  Gretschel,  Lehrbuch  des 
Pianofortebaues,  Leipsic,  1872;  C.  Engcl,  Musical  Instruments  in  the  South 
Kensington  Museum  (London,  1874),  and  "  Some  Account  of  the  Clavichord."  in 
Musical  Times  (London,  July,  Aug.,  Sep.,  iS79);  E.  Vander  Stiaeten,  La  Musiquo 
aux  Pays  Bas,  vol.  iii.,  Brussels,  1875;  Ciiickerinff  &  Sons,  The  Pianofortef 
Boston,  1874;  C.  Chouquet,  Le  Mus^e  du  Conservatoire  National  de  Musigue 
(Paris,  1875),  and  Exposition  Universelle  et  Internationale  de  Paris,  Rapport 
du  Jury  (Paris,  1880);  L.  Puliti,  Delia  Oriaine  di  Pianoforte,  Florence,  1876; 
C.  Meyer  &  Son,  On  the  Full  Iron  Plate  Frame  for  Pianos,  Philadelphia,  1876; 
C.  Ponsicclii,  //  Pianoforte,  sua  origine  c  sviluppo,  Florence,  1876;  Bosanquet, 
Elementary  Treatise  on  Musical  IntetTals,  London,  1876;  A.  Kraus,  Catalogue 
des  Instrumcntsde Musique  du  Musee  Kraus,  Florence,  1878;  V.  Mahiilon,  Annu~ 
aires  du  Conservatoire  Royale  de  Musique  de  Bruxelles  (Brussels,  1877  to  1883), 
and  Catalogue  desciiptifei  analytiqne  du  Musee  Instrumental  du  Conservatoire 
Royal  de  Musique  de  Bruxelles  (Ghent,  1880-81);  L.  F.  Valdrighl,  Musurgiana, 
Modena,  1879;  E.  Brinsmead,  History  of  the  Pianoforte,  London,  1879;  S. 
Blondel,  Histoire  Anecdotique  du  Piano,  Palis.  1880;  A.  Keis^mann,  Illusliirte 
Geschichte  der  Deutschen  Ifusik,  Leipsic,  1880-81 ;  A.  J.  Ellis,  "  History  of 
Musical  Pitch,"  with  appendices  in  yoHrna?  of  the  Society  of  Arts, 'Lon6on,18S0i 
A.  J.  Hipkins,  varions  articles  in  Sir  George  Grove's  Dictionary  of  Music  and 
Musicians,  "  History  of  the  Pianoforte,"  with  appendix,  in  Journal  of  the  Society 
of  Arts  (Londnn,  1883).  and  "Tiie  Pianoforte  and  its  Precui-sors,"  in  the  English 
Illustrated  Magazine  (London,  1884).  (A.  J.  H.) 

PIAKISTS,  the  popular  name  of  the  "clerici  regulares 
scholarum  piarum,"  the  Pauline  Congregation  of  the 
Mother  of  God,  which  was  founded  by  Joseph  Calasanza 
(Josephus  a.  Matre  Dei)  at  Konie  in  the  beginning  of  the 
17  th  century.  Calasanza,  a  native  «f  Calasanz  in  th(» 
province  of  Huesca  in  Aragon,  was  born  on  September  1 1 
1556,  studied  at  Lsrida  and  Alcala,  and  after  his  ordina- 
tion to  the  priesthood  removed  to  Rome.  Here  he  became 
zealously  interested  in  the  education  of  poor  and  orphan 
children,  and  with  this  end  he  organized,  in  1607,  a  brother- 
hood which  ultimately,  in  1617,  became  an  independent 
Congregation,  numbering  at  that  time  fifteen  priests,  under 
Calasanza  as  their  head.  To  the  three  usual  vows  they 
added  a  fourth,  that  of  devotion  to  the  gratuitous  instruc- 
tion of  youth.  In  1622  the  Congregation  received  a  new 
constitution  from  Gregory  XV.,  and  had  all  the  privileges  of 
the  mendicant  orders  conferred  upon  it,  Calasanza  bein^ 
recognized  as  general.  In  this  capacity  he  busied  himsell 
with  the  extension  of  the  order,  not  only  in  Italy,  but  also 
in  Germany,  Poland,  and  other  countries,  until  1643, 
when  the  jealousy  of  the  Jesuits  led  to  conflicts  which 
resulted  in  his  removal  from  office ;  owing  to  the  same 
cause  the  Congregation  was  deprived  of  its  privileges  by 
Innocent  X.  in  1646.  Calasanza,  who  died  on  August  22, 
1648,  was  beatified  in  1748,  and  canonized  in  1767.  The 
privileges  of  the  Congregation  were  successively  restored 
in  1660,  1669,  and  1698.  The  Piarists,  who  are  not  a^ 
numerous  body,  are  found  chiefly  in  Italy,  Spain,  the  West 
Indies,  Germany,  and  especially  in  Austria-Hungary. 

PIATRA,  a  town  of  Koumania  (Moldavia)  at  the  head 
of.  the  department  of  Neamtsu,  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
Bistritza,  an  affluent  of  the  Sereth.     It  is  about  45  miles 


P  I  A  — P  I  C 


7i)- 


by  road  from  Roman,  a  station  on  the  raihvay  from  Galatz 
and  Czernowitz.  The  population  of  the  prefecture  in  1878 
was  25,383  (9887  Jews).  It  contained  seven  Orthodox 
churches, — the  most  remarkable  being  St  John's,  or  the 
Prince's  Monastery,  founded  by  Stephen  the  Great  in 
1497.  There  are  five  annual  fairs,  and  a  large  trade  is 
done  in  grain  and  iimber — the  latter  being  rafted  down 
the  Bistritza  from  the  mountains  to  Galatz. 

PIAZZA  ARMERINA  (Sicilian,  Chiazza),  a  city  of  Italy, 
in  the  province  of  Caltanisetta,  Sicily,  on  a  hill  39  miles  by 
road  east-south-east  of  the  city  of  that  name,  and  30  miles 
north  of  Terranova  on  the  coast.  It  is  a  flourishing  and 
populous  place  (17,038  inhabitants  in  the  city  and  19,591 
in  the  commune  in  1881),  has  an  18th-century  cathedral, 
an  episcopal  palace,  and  a  communal  library  (1859).  The 
church  of  Sant'  Andrea,  less  than  a  mile  distant,  has  a 
fresco  of  date  1486,  and  other  objects  of  interest. 

Of  the  ancient  city,  which  oUl  local  antiquaries  held  to  have  been 
built. by  a  colony  of  refugees  from  Platsa,  little  is  known.  The 
name  sometimes  occurs  as  Plutia.  In  1095  Piazza  was  taken  by 
Count  Roger  of  Sicily,  who  bestowed  on  it  a  banner  reputed  to  bear 
a  likeness  of  the  Virgin  painted  by  St  Luke.  'William  I.  destroyed 
the  city  in  1160,  but.it  was  rebuilt  on  a  new  site  in  1163. 

See  Piatta  aniica,  ^c,  by  J.  P.  Chiaranda  (a  natlrc).  of  which  a  Latin  transla- 
tion by  Moshelm  is  given  in  Grjcvius's  Thesaurus  attt.  et  hist.  Sic,  vol.  xii. 

PIAZZI,  Giuseppe  (1746-1826).     See  Astkonomy. 

PICARDY  (La  Ficardie),  one  of  the  old  feudal  pro- 
vinces of  France,  was  bounded  N.  by  Hainault,  Artois, 
and  the  English  Channel,  E.  by  Champagne,  S.  by  lle-de 
France,  and  W.  by  Normandy  and  the  Channel.  Northern 
Picardy  (subdivided  into  Upper  and  Lo\ver  Picardy)  was 
formed  into  one  of  the  great  military  governorships  of  the 
kingdom,  while  Southerii  Picardy  was  included  in  the 
governorship  of  flo-de-France.  Upper  Picardy  comprised 
the  districts  (pays)  of  Amienois,  Santerre,  Vermandois,  and 
Thierache ;  Lower  Picardy  Boulonnais,  Ponthieu,  Vimeu, 
and  the  Pays  Recouquis  (or  Calais,  Guines,  Ardre,  and 
Oye) ;  and  Southern  Picardy  Beauvaisis,  Soissonais,  and 
Laonnais.  The  territory  is  now  divided  among  the  depart- 
ments of  Pas-de-Calais,  Somme,  Aisne,  Gise,  and  Nord. 

The  name  Picardy  docs  not  appear  before  the  13th  century. 
Under  tlic  Romans  the  country  formed  part  of  Bclgica  Secunda,  and 
was  inhabited  by  vaiious  Belgian  tribes — the  Moriiii,  Ambiaiii, 
Vcromandui,  Bellovaci,  and  Suessiones,  whose  names  still  appear 
in  Amiens,  Vermandois,  Beauvais,  and  Soissons.  After  forming 
part  of  tlio  kingdom  of  Soissons  and  of  Neustria,  Picardy  (that  is, 
tlio  couiitsliip  of  Vei'iiiandois,  kQ.)  passed  to  tlie  counts  of  Flanders. 
It  was  finally  united  with  the  French  crown  by  Louis  XL. 

See  Do  Verity  (:770-74),  Dubclloy  (1770),  La  Bourt  (1840),  RoKor  (1842-43), 
•nd  'Coclierls  (18.'it).  V.  do  Beaiivillif  has  published  n  magnificent  Jiccucit  di 
documents  tri^dits  concernant  la  Picardie,  1861,  1807,  Ac. 

PICCINI,  or  PicciNNi,  NiccoLA  (1728-1800),  musical 
composer,  was  born  at  Bari  in  1728,  and  educated,  under 
Leo  and  Durante,  at  the  C'onservatorio  di  San  Onofrio  in 
Naples.  His  first  opera,  Le  Donne  dispettose,  produced  in 
1754,  won  him  a  high  reputation,  which  he  maintained 
creditably  until  1760,  when  he  composed,  at  Rome,  the 
chef  d'ceuvre  of  his  early  life,  La  Cecchina,  ossia  la  Buona 
Figliuola,  an  opera  hufa  which  attained  a  European  success, 
little  less  remarkable  than  that  of  Pergo'esi's  Scrva  Padrona. 
In  a  very  short  time  this  charming  piece  found  its  way  not 
only  to  every  theatre  in  Italy,  but  to  Paris,  to  London,  and 
to  every  great  city  on  the  Continent.  It  was  even  re- 
presented by  marionettes ;  and  every  new  fashion  was  named 
alia  Cecchina.  Six  years  after  this  Piccini  was  invited 
to  Paris.  He  knew  nothing  of  French,  but  his  librettist, 
Marmontel,  assisted  him  to  such  good  purpose  that,  after 
the  production  of  his  first  French  opera,  Roland,  ho  was 
carried  home  from  the  theatre  in  triumpL  All  his  noxt 
works  were  successful;  but,  unhappily,  the  directors  of  the 
Grand  Op^ra  conceived  the  mad  idea  of  deliberately  oppos- 
ing him  to  Gluck,  by  persuading  the  two  composers  to  treat 
the  same  subject — Iphigcnie  en  Taunde — simultaneously. 
Ihe  Parisian  public  now  divided  itself  into  two  rival  iiarties, 


which,  under  the  names  of  Gluckists  and  Piccinists,  carried 
on  an  unworthy  and  disgraceful  war,  equally  ruinous  to  both 
artists,  who  would  gladly  have  withdrawn  from  its  violent 
excesses.  That  the  final  victory  should  be  obtained  by 
the  Gluckists  was  inevitable  ;  for  Piccini,  though  a  brilliant 
ornament  of  the  Italian  school,  was  no  match  for  h-s 
illustrious  antagonist.  Gluck's  masterly  Iphigenie  was  first 
produced  on  May  18,  1779.  Piccini's  Iphiyenie  followed 
on  January  23,  1781,  and,  though  performed  seventeen 
times,  was  af te^  wards  consigned  to  oblivion.  The  fury  of 
the  rival  parties  continued  unabated,  oven  after  Gluck's 
departure  from  Paris  in  1780;  and  an  attempt  was  after- 
wards made  to  inaugurate  a  new  rivalry  with  Sacchini. 
Still,  Piccini  held  a  good  position,  and  on  the  death  of 
Gluck,  in  1787,  proposed  that  a  public  monument  should 
be  erected  to  his  memory, — a  suggestion  which  the  Gluck- 
ists themselves  declined  to  support.  On  the  breaking  out 
of  the  Revolution  in  1789,  Piccini  returned  to  Naples, 
where  he  was  at  first  well  received  by  King  Ferdinand 
IV.;  but  the  marriage  of  his  daughter  to  a  French  demo- 
crat brought  him  into  irretrievable  disgrace.  For  nine 
years  after  this  he  maintained  a  precarious  existence  in 
Venice,  Naples,  and  Rome ;  but,  deriving  new  hope  from 
the  declaration  of  peace,  he  returned  in  1798  to  Paris, 
where  the  fickle  public  received  him  with  enthusiasm,  but 
left  him  to  starve.     He  died  at  Passy,  May  7,  1800. 

Fetis  gives  a  complete  list  of  Piccini's  works,  including  eighty 
operas,  and  much  choral  music.  It  is  certain  that  the  list  of  operas 
is  very  far  from  complete. 

PICENUM.     See  Italy,  vol.  siii.  pp.  444,  447. 

PICHEGRU,  Charles  (1761-1804),  the  conqueror  of 
Holland,  was  born  at  Arbois  in  the  Jura  on  February  16, 
1761.  His  father  was  only  a  labourer,  but  the  friars  who 
managed  the  college  of  Arbois  gave  the  boy  a  good  educa- 
tion, and  one  of  his  masters,  the  Ptre  Patrault,  took  him 
to  the  military  school  of  Brienne.  In  1783  he  entered 
the  first  regiment  of  artillery,  .where  he  rapiilly  rose  to  the 
rank  of  adjutant-sub-lieutenant.  AVhen  the  Revolution 
began  he  at  once  became  leader  of  the  extreme  revolutionary 
party  in  Besan<;on,  where  he  was  stationed;  and,  when 
a  regiment  of  volunteers  of  the  department  of  the  Gard 
marched  through  the  city,  the  popular  society  recommended 
him  for  the  rank  of  lieutenant  colonel,  to  which  he  was 
at  once  elected.  The  fine  condition  of  his  regiment  was 
soon  remarked  in  the  army  of  the  Rhine,  to  which  it  was 
attached,  and  his  organizing  ability  was  made  use  of  by  an 
appointment  on  the  staff,  and  finally  by  his  promotion  to 
the  rank  of  general  of  brigade.  In  1793,  whenDumouriez 
had  desertefi,  and  all  generals  of  noble  birth  had  been  super- 
seded, Carnot  and  Saint  Just  were  sent  to  find  roiurier 
generals  who  could  be  successful ;  Caniot  discovered  Jour- 
dan,  and  Saint  Just  discovered  Hochc  and  Pichegru.  In 
co-operation  with  Hocho  and  the  army  of  the  Jfoselle, 
Pichegru,  now  general  of  division  and  in  command  of  the 
army  of  the  Rhine,  had  to  reconquer  Alsace  and  reorganize 
the  disheartened  troops  of  the  republic.  They  succeeded ; 
Pichegru,  instead  of  fighting  great  battles,  made  use  of  the 
Han  of  his  soldiers  to  win  innumerable  small  engagements, 
and  with  Hoche  forced  the  lines  of  Hagucnau,  and  relieved 
Landa'u.  In  December  1793  ho  superseded  Hochc,  became 
commander-in-chief  of  the  united  armies  of  the  Rhine  and 
Moselle,  whence  he  was  summoned  to  succeed  Jourdan  in 
the  army  of  the  North  in  February  1794.  It  was  now  that 
he  fought  his  three  great  campaigns  of  one  ye;ir.  The 
Engliiih  and  Austrians  held  <\.  Btrong  position  along  tho 
Sambre  to  the  sea.  After  vainly  attempting  to  break  tho 
Austrian  centre,  Pichegru  suddenly  turned  their  left,  and 
defeated  Clerfayt  at  Cassel,  Mcnin,  and  Couftrai,  while 
Morcau,  his  second  in  command,  defeated  Coburg  at 
Turcoing  in  May  1794  ;  then  after  a  pause,  duiing  which 


80 


F I C— ? I C 


Pichegru  feigned  to  besiege  Ypres,  lie  again  dashed  at 
Clerfayt  and  defeated  him  at  Kousselaer  and  Hooglede, 
■while  Jourdan  came  up  with  the  new  army  of  the  Sambre 
and  Meuse,  and  utterly  routed  the  Austrians  at  Fleurus  on 
Jane  27,  1794.  After  a  pause  Pichegru  began  his  second 
campaign  by  crossing  the  !Meuse  on  October  18,  and  after 
taking  Nimeguen  drove  the  Austrians  beyond  the  Rhine. 
Instead  of  going  into  winter-quarters,  he  prepared  his  army 
for  a  winter  campaign.  'On  December  28th  he  crossed  the 
Meuse  on  the  ice,  and  stormed  the  island  of  Bcznmel,  then 
crossed  the  Waal  in  the  same  manner,  and,  driving  the 
English  before  him,  entered  Utrecht  on  January  19,  and 
Amsterdam  on  January  20,  and  soon  occupied  the  whole  of 
Holland.  This  grand  feat  of  arms  was  marked  by  many 
points  of  interest,  such  as  the  capture  of  the  Dutch  ships 
which  were  frozen  in  the  Helder  by  the  French  hussars,  and 
the  splendid  discipline  of  the  ragged  battalions  in  Amster- 
dam, who,  with  the  richest  city  of  the  Continent  to  sack,  yet 
behaved  with  perfect  self-restraint.  This  conquest  aroused 
a  storm  of  admiration  in  France.  The  former  friend  of  Saint 
Just  now  offered  his  services  to  the  Thermidorians,  and  after 
receiving  from  the  Convention  the  title  of  Sauveur  de  la 
Patrie,  subdued  the  sans-culottes  of  Paris,  when  they  rose 
in  insurrection  against  the  Convention  on  12  Germinal  (1 
April).  Honoured  by  the  republicans,  and  with  the  greatest 
military  reputation  in  France,  Pichegru  then  took  command 
of  the  armies  of  the  North,  the  Sambre  and  Meuse,  and  the 
Enine,  and  crossing  the  Rhine  in  force  took  Mannheim  in 
May  1795.  When  his  fame  was  thus  at  its  height  he  be- 
came a  traitor,  and  for  the  promise  of  a  marshal's  baton,  the 
governorship  of  Alsace,  the  castle  of  Chambord,  1,000,000 
fvancs  in  cash,  and  200,000  francs  a  year,  sold  his  army 
and  his  country.  He  allowed  Jourdan  to  be  beaten  before 
Mannheim,  and  betrayed  all  his  plans  to  the  enemy.  His 
intrigues  were  suspected,  and  when  he  offered  his  resigna- 
tion to  the  Directory  in  October  1795  it  was  to  his  surprise 
promptly  accepted.  He  retired  in  disgrace,  but  hoped  to 
serve  the  royalist  cause  by  securing  his  election  to  the 
Council  of  Five  Hundred  in  May  1797.  He  was  there  the 
loyalist  leader,  and  planned  a  cov.p  d'etat,  but  on  the  IStii 
Tructidor  he  was  arrested,  and  ^-ith  fourteen  others  de- 
ported to  Cayenne  in  1797.  Escaping,  he  reached  London 
in  1798,  and  served  in  the  archduke  Charles's  stafi  in  the 
campaign  of  1799.  He  went  to  Paris  in  August  1803  with 
Georges  Cadoudal  tohead  a  royalist  rising  against  Napoleon; 
but,  betrayed  by  a  friend,  he  was  arrested  en  February  28, 
1804,  and  on  April  15th  was  found  strangled  in  prison.  It 
has  often  been  asserted,  but  without  a  shadow  of  proba- 
bility, as  he  was  certain  to  have  been  condemned  if  brought 
to  trial,  that  he  was  murdered  by  the  orders  of  Napoleon. 

Pichegru's  campaigns  of  1794  are  marked  by  traits  of  an  audacious 
genius  which  would  not  have  disgraced  Napoleon  ;  like  him,  he  per- 
ceived the  intrinsic  fitness  of  the  French  soldiers  for  strokes  of 
daring  rather  than  for  sustained  battles.  But  a  more  thorough 
traitor  never  commanded  an  army.  He  flattered  in  turn  Saint  Just 
and  the  Terrorists,  the  Thermidorians  and  the  Directors,  and  seemed 
altogether  unmoved  by  considerations  of  loyalty  or  patriotism. 

There  Is  no  really  good  life  of  Pichegil.;  perhaps  the  best  is  Gassler's  Vie  du 
gin^ral  Pichegru,  Pans.  1814.  For  bto  treason,  ti-ial^  and  death  consult  Mont- 
gaillard's  Memoives  conceiiiant  la  trehison  de  Pichegru,  1804;  Fauche-Borel's 
Memoires  .  Savary,  Memoires  sur  la  Mort  de  Pichegl-Uf  Paris,  1825 ;  and  G.  Pierret, 
Pichegru,  son  Proces  eL  son  Mort,  1826. 

PICKLES.  The  term  pickie  was  originally  applied  to 
herrings  preserved  in  salt  brine,  and  by  a  pickle  is  still 
meant  a;iy  preservative  solution  for  either  animal  or 
vegetable  food,  that  for  flesh  and  fish  being  a  brine  of 
common  salt,  usually  with  saltpetre,  sugar,  and  certain 
spices  added,  while  for  vegetable  substances  vinegar  is 
the  principal  pickling  medium.  Preparations  of  the  latter 
description — vegetables  saturated  with  vinegar — constitute 
the  ordinary  pickles  of  domestic  use.  Acid  fruits  and  suc- 
culent fleshy  vegetables  are  the  proper  materials  for  pickles. 


The  vegetable  substances  principally  treated  in  this  way 
are — beetroot,  cabbage,  cauliflower,  gherkins  (small  cucura- 
bers),  capers,  French  beans,  onions,  shallots,  mushrooms, 
green  peaches,  mangoes,  green  walnuts,  and  several  tropical 
fruits  besides  those  mentioned.     These  are  variously  dealt 
with.     Such  as  are  soft  and  in  themselves  hot  and  spicy 
require  simply  to  have  vinegar  of  the  proper  strength 
poured  over  them,  after  the  materials  have  been  carefully 
selected,  washed,  and,  if  necessary,  shred.    Vegetable  sub- 
stances of  a  harder  and  tougher  character  require  first  to 
be  steeped  in  salt  brine  for  some  time,  then  washed,  9j:d 
the  vinegar  poured  over  them  hot ;  and  yet  more  Isai-hiry 
and  fibrous  vegetables  must  be  softened  with  boiling  brine, 
and  then  prepared  with  boiling  vinegar.      The  vinegar 
employed  may  be  either  wood  or  strong  malt  vinegar ;  the 
former,  being  free  from  mucilage,  has  no  tendency  to  fer- 
mentation, and  can  be  obtained  of  greater  strength  than  that 
prepared  from  malt.     The  vinegar  is  commonly  flavoured 
with  spices  or  aromatic  herbs,  flavours  being  chosen  with 
special  reference  to  the  fruit  or  vegetable  operated  on.    The 
flavouring  materials,  of  which  pepper,  allspice,  red  pepper^ 
cloves,  horse-radish,  garlic,  and  ginger  are  examples,  are 
either   added  whole  to  the  pickle  or  may  be  separately 
infused  in  the  vinegar.     For  the  preservation  of  pickles  it 
is  necessary  that  the  jars  in  which  they  ar^)  stored  should 
be  secured  with  stoppers  tied  over  with  bladder  and  sealed, 
so  as  to  render  them  as  far  as  possible  air-tight.     It  is  of 
the   utmost  consequence  that  in   the  compounding  and 
storing  of  these  acid  preparations  no  vessels  or  fittings  of 
copper,  brass,  zinc,  or  lead,  which  yield,  with  acetic  acid, 
poisonous  products,  should  be  used.     Contamination  with 
copper  is  especially  to  be  avoided ;  yet,  as  small  quantities: 
of  acetate  of  copper  give  to  pickled  vegetables  a  iine,  fresh 
green,  natural  colour,  such  an  adulteration  is  not  unfre- 
quently  practised ;  and  some  of  the  older  cookery  books 
actually  recommend  the  use  of  copper  vessels,  and  even  the 
addition  of  small  pieces  of  verdigris,  to  improve  the  colour 
of  the  pickles.    As  food  adjuncts,  pickles  should  be  sparingly 
used,  their  chief  merit  being  piquancy,  though  the  acid  they 
c->2tai2  essrciss  s,  *4i?e2i  iii£'.scnce  on  the  more  directly 
nutritious  constituents  of  food,  and,  the  added  spices  having 
a  stimulating  effect,  they  thus  aid  the  process  of  digestion. 
PICO,    GiovAKNi,    OF   MiEANDOLA  (1463-1494),  was 
the  youngest  son  of  Giovanni  Francesco  Pico,  prince  of 
Mirandola,  a  smaU  territory  about  30  Italian  miles  west  of 
Ferrara,  afterwards  absorbed  in  the  duchy  of  Modena.     The 
family  was  Ulustrious  and  wealthy,  and  claimed  descent 
from  donstantine.     From  his  childhood  Pico  was  remark- 
able for  his  quick  and  tenacious  memory,  and  gave  promise 
of  his  future  distinction  as  a.  scholar.     In  his  fourteenth 
year  he  went  to  Bologna,  where  he  studied  for  two  years, 
and  was  much  occupied  with  the  Decretals.     The  tradi- 
tional studies  of  the  place,  however,  disgusted  him;  he  was 
eager  to  know  all  the  secrets  of  nature,  and  devoting  him- 
self wholly  to  speculative  learning  he  spent  seven  years 
wandering  through  all  the  schools  of  Italy  and  France  and 
collecting  a  precious  library.     Like  most  men  with  brilliant 
faculties  of  acquisition  and  assimilation,  Pico  was  constitu- 
tionally an  eclectic  ;  and  he  owes  his  place  in  the  history 
of  learning  and   thought   to   the  indefatigable  spirit  of 
inquiry  which  left  him  dissatisfied  with  current  teaching 
and  drove  him  to  studies  then  new  and  strange.     Besides 
Greek  and  Latin  he  knew  Hebrew,  Chaldee,  and  Arabic ; 
and  his  Hebrew  teachers  (Eliah  del  Medigo,  Leo  Abarbanel, 
and  Jochanan  Aleman — see  L.  Geiger,  Johann  BeuMin 
[1871],  p.  167)  introduced  him  to  the  Kabbalah,  which  had 
great  fascinations  ""for   one  who  loved  all    mysiic    and 
theosophic  speculation.     His  learned  wanderings  ended  at 
Rome,  where  he  set  forth  for  public  disputation  a  list  of 
nine  hundred  questions  and  conclusions  in  all  branches  of 


r  1  (J  —  p  1  E 


bi 


philosophy  and  theology.  He  remaiQed  a  year  in  Rome, 
but  the  disputation  he  proposed  was  never  held.  He  was 
an  object  of  envy  to  many  for  the  range  of  attainments, 
which  earned  him  the  title  of  the  Phcenix  of  his  ago,  and 
detractors  found  it  easy  to  fix  on  his  conclusions  a  suspicion 
of  heresy.  The  pope  prohibited  the  little  book  in  which 
they  were  contained,  and  Pico  had  to  defend  the  impugned 
theses  in  an  elaborate  Apologia.  His  personal  orthodoxy 
was,  however,  finally  vindicated  by  a  brief  of  Alexander 
VI.,  dated  18th  June  1493.  The  suspected  theses  included 
such  points  as  the  following  :— that  Christ  desceuded  'ad 
inferos  not  in  his  real  presence  but  quoad  effectum  ;  that  no 
image  or  cross  should  receive  latreia  even  in  the  sense 
allowed  by  Thomas  ;  that  it  is  more  reasonable  to  regard 
Origen  as  saved  than  as  damned  ;  that  it  is  not  in  a  man's 
free  will  to  believe  or  disbelieve  an  article  of  faith  as  he 
pleases.  But  perhaps  the  most  startling  thesis  was  that 
no  science  gives  surer  conviction  of  the  divinity  of  Christ 
than  "magia"  {i.e.,  the  knowledge  of  the  secrets  of  the 
heavenly  bodies)  and  Kabbalah.  Pico  was  the  first  to  seek 
in  the  Kabbalah  a  proof  of  the  Christian  mysteries,  and  it 
was  by  him  that  Keuchlin  was  led  into  the  same  delusive 
path. 

Pico  had  been  up  to  this  time  a  gay  Italian  nobleman  ; 
be  was  tall,  handsome,  fair-complexioned,  with  keen  grey 
eyes  and  yellow  hair,  and  a  great  favourite  with  -women. 
But  his  troubles  led  him  to  more  serious  thoughts ;  he 
burned  his  amorous  verses  and  gave  himself  wholly  to 
sacred  letters,  publishing  as  the  first  fruits  of  his  studies,  in 
his  twenty-eighth  year  the  Heptaplus,  a  mystical  exposition  , 
of  the  creation.  Next  he  planned  a  great  sevenfold  work 
against  the  enemies  of  the  church,  of  which  only  the  section 
directed  against  astrology  was  completed.  After  leaving 
Rome  he  again  lived  a  wandering  life,  often  visiting 
Florence,  to  which  he  was  drawn  by  his  friends  Politian 
and  Marsilius  Ficinua,  -and  where  also  he  came  under  the 
influence  of  Savonarola.  It  was  at  -Florence  that  he  died 
in  1494.  Three  years  before  his  death  he  parted  with 
his  share  of  the  ancestral  principality,  and  gave  much  of 
his  wealth  to  the  poor.  He  was  now  increasingly  absorbed 
in  ascetic  exercises  and  religious  meditation,  and  designed, 
when  certain  literary  plans  were  completed,  to  give  away 
all  he  had  and  wander  barefoot  through  the  world  preach- 
ing Christ,  or  perhaps  to  join  the  preaching  friars.  But 
these  plans  were  cut  short  by  a  fever  which  carried  him 
off  just  at  the  time  when  Charles  VIII.  was  at  Florence. 
Pico's  attainments  and  the  beauty  of  his  character  and 
piety  produced  a  profound  impression  on  his  contemporaries, 
but  his  works,  published  by  his  nephew  Giov.  Fran.  Pico, 
with  a  biography,  at  Bologna  in  1496,  and  more  than  once 
reprinted,  cannot  now  be  read  with  much  interest.  The 
man  himself,  however,  is  still  interesting,  partly  from  his 
influence  on  Reuchlin  and  partly  from  the  spectacle  of  a 
truly  devout  mind  in  the  brilliant  circle  of  half-pagan 
scholars  of  the  Florentine  renaissance. 

PICTON,  Sir  Thomas  (1758-1815),  general  under 
Wellington  in  the  Peninsular  War,  was  the  younger  son 
of  Thomas  Picton,  of  Poyston,  Pembrokeshire,  where  he 
was  born  in  August  1758.  In  1771  he  obtained  an  ensign's 
commission  in  the  12th  regiment  of  foot,  but  he  did 
not  join  until  two  years  afterwards.  The  regiment  was 
then  stationed  at  Gibraltar,  whore  he  remained  until  ho 
was  made  captain  in  the  75th  in  January  1778,  when  ho 
returned  to  England.  The  regiment  was  shortly  after- 
wards disbanded,  aud  in  1794  he  embarked  for  the  West 
Indies  without  an  appointment,  on  the  strength  of  a  slight 
acquaintance  with  Sir  John  Vaughan,  who  made  him  his 
aide-de-camp  and  gave  him  a  captaincy  in  the  I7tli  foot. 
Shortly  afterwards  he  was  promoted  major.  Under  Sir 
Ralph  Abercromby  he  took  part  in  the  capture  of  St  Lucia 

19-6 


and  St  Vincent.  After  the  reduction  of  Trinidad  he  was 
made  governor  of  the  island,  and  in  October  ISOl  he  was 
gazetted  brigadier-general.  Resigning  the  governorship 
of  Trinidad  in  1803,  he  took  part  in  an  expedition  against 
St  Lucia  and  Tobago,  and  he  held  the  governorship  of  the 
latter  island  until  forced  to  resign  it  by  public  clamour  in 
England.  In  1807  he  was  put  upon  his  trial  for  applying 
torture  to  a  female  slave  in  Trinidad  to  extort  confession 
respecting  a  robbery,  and  a  general  verdict  of  guilty  was 
returned.  A  new  trial  was,  however,  granted,  and  after 
protracted  litigation  the  court,  on  10th  February  1810, 
ordered  "  the  defendant's  recognizance  to  be  respited  until 
they  should  further  order."  Previous  to  this  he  had  taken 
part  in  the  capture  of  Flushing,  of  which  in  1809  he  was 
made  governor.  At  the  special  solicitation  of  Wellington 
he  was  named  to  the  command  of  a  division  of  the  army 
in  Spain,  and  during  the  Peninsular  campaign  he  was 
placed  in  the  post  of  honour,  and  so  distinguished  himself 
that  he  seven  times  received  the  thanks  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  The  capture  of  Badajoz  was  effected  chiefly 
through  his  daring  self-reliance  and  penetration  in  convert- 
ing what  was  intended  to  be  only  a  feint  attack  into  a 
real  one.  At  the  battle  of  Quatre  Bras  on  the  16th  June 
1815  he  was  dangerously  wounded,  and  at  Waterloo  on 
the  18th,  while  repulsing  with  impetuous  valour  what 
Wellington  denominated  "  one  of  the  most  serious  attacks 
made  by  the  enemy  on  our  position,"  he  was  struck  dead 
by  a  ball  on  the  temple.  A  public  monument  was  erected 
to  his  memory  in  St  Paul's  Cathedral. 

See  Robinson,  Life  of  Sir  Thomas  Picton,  2d  ed.,  London,  1836.' 

PICTOR,  Fabius.  See  Fabius  Pictok;  also  LrvY, 
vol.  xiv.  p.  728-29. 

PICTS.     See  Scotland. 

PIEDMONT  (Italian,  Piemonte ;  Low  Latin,  Pedemona 
and  Pedemontivm),  a  region  of  northern  Italy,  bounded  N. 
by  Switzerland,  W.  by  France,  S.  by  Liguria,  and  E.  by 
Lonibardy.  Physically  it  may  be  briefly  described  as  the 
upper  gathering-ground  and  valley  of  the  -river  Po,  enclosed 
on  all  sides  except  towards  the  Lombard  plain  by  the  vast 
semicircle  of  the  Pennine,  Graian,  Cottian,  Maritime,  and 
Ligurian  Alps.  In  1859  it  was  divided  into  the  four  pro- 
vinces of  Alessandria,  Cuneo,  Novara,  and  Torino  (Turin),' 
which  still  remain  as  provinces  of  the  kingdom  of  Italy. 
In  1858  its  population  was  2,738,814. 

Tlio  name  of  Lonibardy  was  uscil  as  inclusive  of  the  nppcr  valley 
of  the  Po  as  late  as  1091,  when  the  house  of  Savoy  lost  most  of  its 
Italian  possessions  by  the  death  of  Adelaide;  but  in  the  time  of 
Thomas  L  (1177-1233),  duke  of  .Savoy,  while  the  name  SavOy  was 
applied  more  especially  to  the  ducal  territory  on  the  French  side 
of  tlie  Alps,  that  of  Piedmont  camo  into  use  as  a  collective  term 
for  the  territory  on  the  Italian  side.  Thomas  II.  of  Savoy,  count 
(not  Thomas  II.,  count  of  Savoy,  as  ho  is  often  wrongly  called^, 
son  of  'J'homas  1.,  obtained  (Vlbb)  part  of  Piedmont  as  an  apanago 
from  his  brother  Amadeus  IV.,  and  was  anpointed  iniiicrial  vicor  in 
Piedmont  by  Frederick  II.;  and,  tliough  ho  was  afterwards  obliged 
to  renounce  all  the  concessions  ho  had  received  alike  from  pope  and 
emperor,  his  son  Thomas  111.  became  the  founder  of  the  lino  wliicU 
bore  the  title  "Princes  of  Achaia  and  Morca,  and  lords  of  Pied-| 
mont."  Louis,  the  last  of  thcso  lords,  dying  in  1418,  left  hi* 
possessions  to  Amadous  VIII. 

PIERCE,  Franklin  (1804-1869),  fourteenth  president 
of  the  Umted  States,  was  descended  from  an  old  yeoman 
family  of  New  England,  and  was  born  at  Ilil!,4)orough 
Now  Hampshire,  23d  November  1804.  His  father,  Ben- 
jamin Pierce,  served  through  the  revolutionary  war,  after- 
wards attaining  the  rank  of  major-general,  and  became 
governor  of  his  State.  The  son  entered  Bowdoin  "College, 
Brunswick,  Maine,  in  1820.  Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  who 
was  in  the  class  below  him,  and  was  his  intimate  friend,' 
mentions  as  his  most  notable  clmractcristic  at  this  time  hii 
"  fascination  of  manner,  which  has  proved  so  magical  in 
winning  him  an  unbounded  popularity."  The  same  chamo- 
teristic  remained  with  him  through  life,  and  was  the  chief 


82 


r  I  E  —  p  I  E 


cause  of  bis  success.  His  abilities  did  not  greatly  impress 
his  classmates,  and,  although  he  took  at  length  a  good 
position,  he  was  not  distinguished  for  scholarship.  After 
leaving  college  in  1824  he  studied  law  with  Judge  Wood- 
bury at  Portsmouth,  and  afterwards  in  the  law  school  at 
Nortliampton,  Mass.,  and  with  Judge  Parker  at  Amherst, 
and  came  to  the  bar  in  1827.  His  first  appearance  as  a 
pleader  was  a  failure,  but  this  only  incited  him  to  redoubled 
perseverance  and  determination.  From  tae  first  he  was  a 
lealous  supporter  of  the  Democratic  party,  and  he  took  an 
active  part  in  promoting  the  election  of  Andrew  Jackson 
to  the  presidency.  In  1829  he  was  elected  by  his  native 
town  to  the  State  legislature,  of  which  he  was  speaker  in 
1832-33.  In  the  latter  year  he  was  chosen  a  member  of 
Congress,  and  in  1837  he  was  elected  to  the  senate  of  the 
United  States.  He  displayed  no  striking  oratorical  gifts, 
but  as  a  member  of  the  judiciary  and  other  committees 
gained  general  respects  In  1842  he  resigned  his  seat  in 
the  senate,  and  returned  to  the  practice  of  the  law.  His 
reputation  at  the  bar  was  very  high,  his  success  being  largely 
due  to  his  power  of  identifying  himself  with  his  client's 
cause,  and  his  strong  personal  influence  over  a  jury.  In 
1846  he  was  offered  the  position  of  attorney-general  of  the 
United  States,  but  declined  it.  On  the  outbreak  of  the 
Mexican  War  he  joined  as  a  volunteer  one  of  the  companies 
raised  in  Concord.  He  was  soon  after  appointed  colonel 
of.  the  9th  regiment,  and  in  March  1847  brigadier-generaL 
At  the  battle  of  Contreras  on  the  19th  of  August  he  was 
severely  injured  by  the  fall  of  his  horse.  At  the  close  of 
the  war  in  December  1847  he  resigned  his  commission. 
In  1850  he  was  president  of  tho  convention  for  revising 
the  constitution  of  New  Hampshire.  In  1852,  as  candi- 
date of  the  Democratic  party,  he  was  elected  president  of 
the  United  States  by  254  electoral  votes  against  42  given 
to  General  Scott.  The  special  feature  of  his  inaugural 
address  was  the  support  of  slavery  in  the  United  States, 
and  the  announcement  of  his  determination  that  the  Fugi- 
tive Slave  Act  should  be  strictly  enforced.  This  was  the 
keynote  of  his  administration,  and  pregnant  with  vital 
consequences  to'  the  country.  From  it  came  during  his 
term  the  Osteud  conference  and  *' manifesto,''  the  repeal 
of  the  Missouri  compromise,  and  the  troubles  in  Kansas 
and  Nebraska,  which  crystallized  the  opposing  forces  into 
the  Republican  party,  and  led  later  to  the  great  rebellion. 
President  Pierce,  surrouiided  by  an  able  cabinet,  among 
them  Jefferson  Davis  as  Secretary  of  War,  firmly  adhered 
throughout  his  administration  to  the  pro-slavery  party. 
He  failed,  notwithstanding,  to  obtain  re-nomination,  but 
vras  succeeded  by  James  Buchanan,  March  4,  1857,  and 
retired  to  his  home  in  Concord,  N.  H.,  after  spending  seme 
years  in  Europe.  During  the  war  of  1861-65  his  sympa- 
thies were  wholly  with  the  South,  but,  with  the  exception 
of  delivering  a  strong  speech  at  Concord  in  1863,  he  took 
no  very  active  part  in  politics.    He  died  8th  October  1869. 

Among  several  lives  of  General  Pierce,  published  during  his 
candidature  for  the  presidency,  special  mention  may  ba  made  of 
that  by  his  friend  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 

"PIERO  (or  PEETRO)  DE'  rRANCESCHI"(1415- 
1492),  a  leading  painter  of  the  Umbrian  school  This 
master  is  generally  named  Piero  della  Francesca  (Peter,  son 
of  Frances),  the  tradition  being  that  his  father,  a  woollen- 
draper  named  Benedetto,  had  died  before  "his  birth.  This 
(9  not  correct,  for  the  mother's  name  was  Romana,  and  the 
father  continued  living  during  many  years  of  Piero's 
career.'  The  painter  is  also  named  Piero  Borghese,  from 
bis  birthplace,  Borgo  San  Sepolcro,  in  Umbria.  The  true 
family  name  was,  as  above  stated,  Franceschi,  and  the 
family  still  exists  under  the  name  of  Martini-Franceschi. 

Piero  first  received  a  scientific  education,  and  became 
kn  adept  in  mathematics  and  geometry.     This  early  bent 


of  mind  and  course  of  study  influenced  to  a  large  extent 
his  development  as  a  painter.  He  had  more  science  thaa 
either  Paolo  Uccullo  or  Mantcgna,  both  of  them  Ids  con- 
temporaries, the  former  older  and  the  ■  latter  younger. 
Skilful  in  linear  perspective,  he  fixed  rectangular  planes 
in  perfect  order  and  measured  them,  and  thus  got  his 
figures  in  true  proi)ortional  height.  He  preceded  .and 
excelled  Domenico  Ghirlandajo  in  jirojecting  shadows,  and 
rendered  with  considerable  truth  atmosphere,  the  harmony 
of  colours,  and  the  relief  of  objects.  He  was  naturally 
therefore  excellent  in  architectural  painting,  and,  in  point 
of  technique,  he  advanced  the  practice  of  oil-colouring  in 
Italy. 

The  earliest  trace  that  we  find  of  Piero  as  a  pamter  is  in 
1439,  when  he  was  an  apprentice  of  Domenico  Veneziano, 
and  assisted  him  in  painting  the  chapel  of  S.  Egidio,  in 
S.  Maria  Novella  of  Florence.  Towards  1450  he  is  said 
to  have  been  with  the  same  artist  in  Loreto ;  nothing  of 
his,  however,  can  now  be  identified  in  that  locality.  In 
1451  he  was  by  himself,  painting  in  Rimini,  where  a  fresco 
still  remains.  Prior  to  this  he  had  executed  some  exten- 
sive frescos  in  the  Vatican ;  but  these  were  destroyed 
when  Raphael  undertook  on  the  same  walls  the  Liberation 
of  St  Peter  and  other  paintings.  His  most  extensive  ex- 
tant series  of  frescos  is  in  the  choir  of  S.  Francesco  in 
Arezzo, — the  History  of  the  Cross,  beginning  with  legendary 
subjects  of  the  death  and  burial  of  Adam,  and  going  on  to 
the  entry  of  Heraclius  into  Jerusalem  after  the  overthrow 
of  Chosroes.  This  series  is,  in  relation  to  its  period, 
remarkable  for  efi'ect,  movement,  and  mastery  of  the  nude. 
The  subject  of  the  Vision  of  Constantine  is  particularly 
vigorous  in  chiaroscuro ;  and  a  preparatory  design  of  the 
same  composition  was  so  highly  effective  that  it  used  to 
be  ascribed  to  Giorgione,  and  might  even  (according  to  one 
authority)  have  passed  for  the  handiwork  of  Correggio  or  of 
Rembrandt.  A  noted  fresco  in  Borgo  San  Sepolcro,  tho 
Resurrection,  may  be  later  than  this  series  ;  it  is  preserved 
in  the  Palazzo  de'  Conservator!.  An  important  painting 
of  the  Flagellation  of  Christ,  in  the  cathedral  of  Urbino,  is 
later  still,  probably  towards  1470.  Piero  appears  to  have 
been  much  in  his  native  town  of  Borgo  San  Sepolcro  from 
about  1445,  and  more  especially  after  1454,  when' he 
finished  the  series  in  Arezzo.  He  grew  rich  there,  and 
there  he  died,  and  in  October  1492  was  buried. 

Two  statements  made  by  '\''asari_/'egarding  "  Piero  della  Francesca" 
are  open  to  much  controversy.  He  says  that  Piero  became  blind 
at  the  age  of  si.tty,  which  cannot  be  true,  as  he  continued  paint- 
ing some  years  later  ;  but  scepticism  need  perhaps  hardly  go  to  the 
extent  of  inferring  that  he  was  never  blind  at  all.  Vasari  also  says 
that  Fra  Luca  Pacioli,  a  disciple  of  Piero  in  scientific  matters, 
defrauded  his  memory  by  appropriating  his  researches  without 
acknowledgment.  This  is  hard  upon  the  friar,  who  constantly 
shows  a  great  reverence  for  his  master  in  the  sciences.  One  of 
Pacioli's  books  was  published  in  1509,  and  speaks  of  Piero  as  still 
living.  Hence  it  has  been  propounded  that  Piero  lived  to  the 
patriarchal  age  of  ninety-four  or  upwards  ;  but,  as  it  is  now  stated 
that  he  was  buried  in  1492,  we  must  infer  that  there  is  some 
mistake  in  relation  to  Pacioli's  remark — perhaps  tho  date  of 
writing  was  several  years  earlier  than  that  of  publication.  Piero 
was  known  to  have  left  a  manuscript  of  his  own  on  perspective; 
this  remained' undiscovered  till  a  recent  date,  when  it  was  found 
by  E.  Harzen  in  the  Ambrosian  Library  of  Milan,  ascribed  to  somo 
supposititious  "  Pietro,  Pittore  di  Bruges."  The  treatise  shows  a 
knowledge  of  perspective  as  dependent  on  the  point  of  distance. 

In  the  London  National  Gallery  are  four  paintings  attributed  to 
Piero  de'  Franceschi.  One  of  them,  a  profile  of  Isotta  da  Rimini, 
may  safely  be  rejected.  The  Baptism  of  Christ,  which  used  to  bo 
the  altarpiece  of  the  Priory  of  the  Baptist  in  Borgo  San  Sapolcro, 
is  an  important  example;  and  still  more  so  the  Nativity,  with  thi 
'Virgin  kneeling,  and  five  angels  singing  to  musical  instruments. 
This  is  a  very  interesting  and  characteristic  specimen,  and  has 
indeed  been  praised  somewhat  beyoud  its  deservings  on  sesthetic 
grounds. 

Piero's  earlier  style  was  energetic  but  imrefined,  and  to  the  laal 
he  lacked  selectuess  of  form  and  feature.     The  types  of  his  visag& 
are  peculiar,  and  the  costumes  (as  especially  in  the  Arezzo  seriea. 


P  T  E  — r  I  E 


83 


Eiiigular; "  He  used  to  work  nssiduonsly  from  clay  models  swathed 
ill  real  drapery.  Luca  Signori-Ili  was  his  pupil,  and  probably  to 
Rome  extent  J'erugino  ;  and  his  own  influence,  furthered  by  that  of 
Signorelli,  was  potent  over  all  Italy.  Belonging  as  he  does  to  the 
Umbrian  school,  he  united  with  that  stvle  something  of  the  Sieneso 
and  more  of  the  Florentine  mode. 

'  PIETISM.  Pietism  is  tSe"  name  of  an  exceedingly 
influential,  instructive,  and  interesting  movement  in  the 
Lutheran  Church  whTch  arose  towards  the  end  of  the 
17th  and  continued  during  the  first  half  of  the  following 
century.,  The  name  of 'Pietists  was  given  to  the  ad- 
herents of  the  movement  by  its  enemies,  as  a  term  of 
ridicule,  like  that  of  "  Methodists "  somewhat  later  in 
England.  The  origin  and  nature  of  the  movement  itself 
may  be  both  traced  to  defects  in  the  Lutheran  Church  of 
the  time  and  to  isolated  efforts  to  correct  them.  That 
church  had  in  the  17.th  century  become  a  creed-bound 
theological  and  sacramentarian  institution,  which  orthodox 
theologians  ruled  with  almost  the  absolutism  of  the 
papacy.  Correctness  of  creed  had  taken  the  place  of  deep 
religious  feeling  and  purity  of  life.  Christian  faith  had 
been  dismissed  from  its  seat  in  the  heart,  where  Luther 
had  placed  it,  to  the  cold  regions  of  the  intellect.  The 
dogmatic  formularies  of  the  Lutheran  Church  had  usurped 
the  position  which  Luther  himself  had  assigned  to  the 
Bible  alone,  and  as  a  consequence  they  only  were  studied 
and  preached,  while  the  Bible  was  neglected  in  the  family, 
the  study,  the  pulpit,  and  the  university.  Instead  of 
advocating  the  priesthood  of  all  believers,  so  powerfully 
l)rocIaimed  by  Luther,  the  Lutheran  pastors  had  made 
themselves  a  despotic  hierarchy,  while  they  neglected  the 
practical  pastoral  work  of  caring  for  the  moral  and  spiritual 
welfare  of  their  flocks.  One  of  the  consequences,  as  the 
Pietists  believed,  of  all  this  was  that  immorality,  irreli- 
gion,  and  heathenish  ignorance  of  Christianity  abounded 
in  the  land,  and  cried  to  heaven  against  an  unfaithful 
church.  As  forerunners  of  tho  Pietists  in  the  strict  sense, 
not  a  few  earnest  and  powerful  voices  had  been  heard 
bewailing  the  shortcomings  of  the  church  and  advocating 
a  revival  of  practical  and  devout  Christianity.  Amongst 
them  were  Jacob  Boehme  (Bemen),  the  theosophic  mystic; 
Johann  Arndt,  whoso  principal  devotional  work  on  True 
Christianity  is  universally  known  and  appreciated ; 
Heinrich  MUller,  who  described  the  font,  the  pulpit,  the 
confessional,  and  the  altar  as  the  foiir  dumb  idols  of  the 
Lutheran  Church ;  the  theologian  Johann  Valentin  Andrea, 
the  court  chaplain  of  the  landgrave  of  Hesse ;  Schuppius, 
who  sought  to  restore  to  the  Bible  its  place  in  the  pulpit ; 
and  Theophilus  Grossgebauer  of  Rostock,  who  from  his 
pulpit  and  by  his  writings  raised  "the  alarm  cry  of  a 
watchman  in  Sion."  The  direct  originator  of  the  move- 
ment was  Philip  Jacob  Spener.  Born  in  Alsace  January 
13,  1635,  as  a  child  trained  in  piety  un'der  the  influence 
of  a  devout  godmother  and  books  of  devotion  recommended 
by  her,  particularly  Arndt's  True  Christianity,  accustomed 
to  hear  the  sermons  of  a  pastor  who  preached  the  Bible 
more  than  the  Lutheran  creeds,  ho  was  early  convinced  of 
the  necessity  of  »  moral  and  religious  reformation  of  the 
German  church.  He  studied  theology,  with  a  view  to  the 
Christian  ministry,  at  Strasburg,  where  the  professors  at 
the  time  were  more  inclined  to  practical  Christianity  than 
to  theological  disputation.  Ho  afterwards  spent  a  year  in 
Geneva,  and  was  powerfully  influenced  by  the  strict  moral 
life  and  rigid  ecclesiastical  discipline  prevalent  there,  and 
also  by  the  preaching  and  the  piety  of  the  Waldensian 
professor  Antoine  Leger  antl  the  converted  Jesuit  preacher 
Jean  de  Labadie.  During  a  stay  in  Tiibingen  he  read 
Grossgcbauer's  .il /arm  Cry,  and  in  1G66  ho  entered  upon  his 
first  pastoral  charge  at  Frankfort-on-the-Main,  profoundly 
impressed  with  a  sense  of  the  danger  of  the  Christian  life 
Ueing  sacrificed  to  zeal  for  rigid  orthodoxy.     Pietism,  oa  a 


distinct  movement  in  the  German  church,  was  then  origin 
ated  by  Spener  by  religious  meetings  at  his  house  {collegia 
pielatis),  at  which   he  repeated  his  sevmons,  expounded 
passages  of  the  New  Testament,  and  induced  those  present 
to  join  in  conversation  on  religious  questions  that  arose. 
.These  meetings  were  largely  attended,  produced  a  great 
sensation,  and  were  soon  imitated  elsewhere.     They  gave- 
rise  to  the  name  "Pietists."     In  1675  Spener  published 
his  Pia  Besideria,  or  Earnest  Desires  for  a  Reform  of  tM 
True  Evangelical  Church,  the  public  literary  expositior 
and  defence  of  his  position  and  aims.     In  this  pabEcatiot 
Spener  made  six  proposals  as  the  best  means  of  restoring 
the  life  of  the  church : — (1)  the  earnest  cultivation  of  a 
more  general  and  thorough   familiarity  with  the   Holy 
Scriptures   by  means   of   private   meetings,  ecclesiolx  in 
ecclesia;  (2)  a  practical  carrying  out  of  the  principle  of  the 
universality  of  the  Christian  priesthood  by  a  participation 
of  the  laity  in  the  spiritual  government  of  the  church  and 
By  the  holding  of  family  worship ;  (3)  a  serious  laying 
to  heart  of   the   fact  that  acknowledge  of  Christianitj 
must  be  attended  by  the  practTce  of  it  as  its  indispensable 
sign  and  supplement ;  (4)  the  conversion  of  the  habit  oi 
making  merely  didactic,  and  often  bitter,  attacks  oa  the 
heterodox  and  unbelievers    into  a   treatment   of    them 
instigated   by  genuine   affection  and  animated    by  the 
simple  desire  of  doing  them  good ;   (5)  a  reorganization 
of  the  theological  training  of  the  universities,  in  such  a 
way  that  young  divines  should   be  urged  not  only  td 
diligence  in  their  studies  but  above  all  to  lead  devout 
lives;  and  (6)  a  different  style  of  preaching,  namely,  in  the 
place  of  pleasing  rhetoric,  the  implanting  of  Christianity 
in  the  inner  or  new  man,  the  soul  of  which  is  faith,  and 
its  effects  the  fruits  of  life.     This  work  produced  a  great 
impression   throughout  Germany.     Although  largo  num- 
bers of  the  orthodox  Lutheran  theologians  and  pastors 
were  deeply  offended  by  it,  its  complaint  and  its  demands 
were  both  too  well  justified  to  admit  of  their  being  point- 
blank  denied.     A  large  number  of  pastors  at  once  practi- 
cally adopted  Spener's  proposals.     In  1686  Spener  accepted 
an  appointment  to  the  court-chaplaincy  at  Dresden,  which 
opened  to  him  a  wider  though  more  difficult  sphere  of 
labour.     He'succeeded  in  reviving  the  catechetical  instruc- 
tion  of  the  young  in   religious   truth   in   Saxony.     In 
Leipsic,   where   Scriptural  exegesis  had   almost    wholly 
disappeared,  a  society  of  young  theologians  was  formed 
under  his  influence,  for  the  learned  study  and  devout 
application  of  the  Bible.     Three  magi^tri   belonging   to 
that  society,  one  of  whom  was  August  Hermann  Francke, 
subsequently  the  founder  of  one  of  the  noblest  works  of 
Pietism — the  orphanage  at  Halle — commenced  courses  of 
expository  lectures  on  the  Scriptures  of  a  practical  and 
devotional  character  and  in  the  German  language,  which 
were  zealously  frequented  by  both  students  and  townsmen. 
The   lectures  aroused,  however,  the  ill-will  of  the  other 
theologians  and  pastors  of  Leipsic,  and  their  promoters, 
charged  with  having  slighted  the  established  worship  of 
the  land  as  well  as  true  learning,  vrnta  ordered  to  dis<!on- 
tinue  them.  -  Francke  and  his  friends  left  the  city,  and 
with  the  aid  of  Christian  Thomasius  and  Spener  founded 
the  new  university  of  Hallo,  which  became  the  chief  homo 
of  the  Pietists,  and  the  object  of  the  jealousy  and  unspar- 
ing attacks  of  the  'older  universities  of  Wittenberg  and 
Leipsic.     The  theological  chairs  in   the  new  university 
were  filled  in  complete  conformity  with  Spener's  proposals.' 
The  main  difference  between  the  new  Pictistic  school  and 
tho  orthodox  Lutherans  was  not  one  affecting  doctrine 
directly,  inasmuch  as  Spener  odhored  in  every  point  to  thd 
Lutheran  faith.    Tho  difference  arose  from  his  conception  of 
Cliristinnity  as  chiefly  consisting  in  a  change  of  heart  and 
consequent  holiness  of  lifo,  while  tho  orthodox  Lutherans 


64 


PIE 


of  the  time  marfe  it  to  consist  mainly  in  correctness  of 
doctrine.  At  the  same  time,  the  greater  importance  which 
he  attached  to  tlie  religious  life  and  to  practical  godliness 
than  to  correctness  of  belief,  and  his  restoration  of  the  Bible 
to  its  place  of  superiority  over  the  creeds,  involved  numerous 
jjossible  departures  from  and  advances  bej'ond  the  Luther- 
anism  of  the  17th  century.  Again,  the  earnestness  with 
which  he  had  insisted  on  the  necessity  of  a  new  birth,  and  on 
a  separation  of  Christians  from  the  world,  led  to  exaggera- 
tion and  fanaticism  among  followers  less  distinguished  than 
himself  for  wisdom  and  moderation.  Many  Pietists  soon 
maintained  that  the  new  birth  must  always  be  preceded 
ty  agonies  of  repentance,  and  that  only  a  regenerated  theo- 
logian could  teach  theology,  while  the  whole  school  shunned 
allcommon  worldly  amusements,  such  asdancing,  the  theatre, 
and  public  games,  and  affected  a  severe  austerity  with  re- 
gard to  dress,  meals,  and  conversation.  Through  these 
extravagances  a  reactionary  movement  arose  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  18th  century,  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
leaders  of  which  was  Loescher,  superintendent  at  Dresden. 
But  it  was  only  as  the  opponents  of  Pietism  gradually 
ceased  their  attacks  that  the  movement  lost  its  strength 
and  by  degrees  handed  over  its  vital  truths  and  truest 
work  to  various  representatives  of  a  new  and  better  age  of 
the  church.  As  a  distinct  movement  it  had  run  its  course 
before  the  middle  of  the  18th  century.  The  spirit  of  the 
school  of  Spener  long  made  itself  felt  amongst  the  Pro- 
testants of  north  and  south  Germany,  and  particularly  at 
Halle.  Pietism  could  claim  to  have  contributed  largely  to 
the  revival  of  Biblical  studies  in  Germany,  and  to  have 
given  a  Biblicil  basis  once  more  to  theology.  It  also 
made  religion  once  more  an  affair  of  the  heart  and  the  life, 
and  not  merely  of  the  intellect,  to  which  theologians  had 
reduced  it.  It  likewise  vindicated  afresh  the  rights  of  the 
Christian  laity  in  regard  to  their  own  beliefs  and  the 
■work  of  the  church,  against  the  assumptions  and  despotism 
of  an  arrogant  clergy.  It  thus  revived  eternal  elements 
of  Christianity  that  had  been  long  neglected,  and  was  a 
distinct  agent  in  preparing  the  way  for  modern  advance  in 
religion  and  theology.  But  it  sprang  from  a  temporary 
necessity,  and,  like  similar  phases  of  Christian  life,  lacked 
the  philosophical  and  scholarly  depth,  the  human  and 
secular  breadth,  and  the  progressive  impetus  of  a  per- 
manent and  world-subduing  religious  movement. 

The  two  most  recent  German  writers  on  the  history  of  Pietism — 
Heppe  and  Ritschl — have  given  a  much  wider  meaning  to  the  term, 
including  under  it  nearly  all  religious  tendencies  amongst  Protestants 
of  the  last  three  centuries  in  the  direction  of  a  more  serious  cultiva- 
tion of  personal  piety  than  that  prevalent  in  the  various  established 
churches,  and  manifesting  itself  particularly  in  the  ascetic  shunning 
of  "  worldly  "  practices.  The  term  then  embraces  the  Anabaptist, 
Moravian,  Metnodistic,  and  other  kindred  tendencies  of  the  religious 
life,  which  are  generally  regarded  rather  as  simply  related  than  gen- 
etically connected  phenomena.  Kitschl,  too,  treats  Pietism  as  a 
retrograde  movement  of  Christian  life  towards  Catholicism.  It  is 
also  customary  with  some  German  writers  to  speak  of  a  later  or 
piodern  Pietism,  characterizing  thereby  a  party  in  the  German 
church  which  was  probably  at  first  influenced  by  some  remains  of 
Spener's  Pietism  in  Westphalia,  on  the  Rhine,  in  Wiirtemberg,  and 
at  Halle  and  Berlin,  and  which  at  the  commencement  worked  to 
some  extent  on  the  lines  of  the  earlier  movement.  The  party  was 
chiefly  distinguished  by  its  opposition  to  an  independent  scientific 
study  of  theology,  its  principal  theological  leader  being  Hengsten- 
berg,  and  its  chief  literary  organ  the  Evangdische  Kirchenzeitung, 
The  party  originated  at  the  close  of  the  wars  with  Napoleon  I. 

r  Amoneit  older  works  on  Pietism  are  Walch's  Hi$torische  vnd  theologische  Ein- 
teitung  in  die  JiellfflonstreiCigkeilen  de.r  Evangtiisch- Lutherischen  Kircie,  1730 ; 
Tholuck's  Geschichte  deiPietiimui  und  des  ersitn  Stadiums  der  Aufkldrung,  1865; 
R.  Schinid,  Die  Gescfticfite  des  Piettsmus,  1863;  Goebers  Gescfiicfile  dei  chri^ttichai 
Ltbens  in  der  R/ieinisch-We^t/alischen  Kirche.  3  vols.,  1849-60;  and  the  subjt-cfis 
dealt  with  at  Icnsth  in  Domev's  and  G&s^'s  Histories  of  Protestant  theology.  The 
two  chief  recent  works  which  use  tlie  term  in  the  wider  sense  just  refen'ed  to 
•ro  Hcppc*«  Geschichte  des  Pietismus  imd  der  Sfystik  in  der  re/ormirlen  Kirche, 
(1870)  wiilch  Is  sympathetic,  and  I^itschl'a  Geschichte  des  Pietismus  (vol.  i.  only 
yet  published,  l.'^SO),  which  h*  hostile.  See  also  Nippold's  article  in  T/teot.  Stud. 
wid  Kritiken,  ISSi,  pp.  S17-"92.*  and  Rlggenbach's  article,  "Pietismus,"  in 
Bcrzog's  tnaijUoj'ii'lie,  2d  cd.  (J.  F.  S.) 

PIETttO.     See  Piero. 


-  P  I  G 

PIG.     See  Swine. 

PIGALLE,  Jean  Baptists  (1714-1785),  French  sculp- 
tor, was  born  at  Paris  on  26th  January  1714.  Although 
he  failed  to  obtain  the  Great  Prize,  after  a  severe  struggle 
he  entered  the  Academy  and  became  one  of  the  most 
popular  sculptors  of  his  day.  His  earlier  work,  such  as 
Child  with  Cage  (model  at  Sevres)  and  Mercury  Fastening 
his  Sandals  (Berlin,  and  lead  cast  in  Louvre),  is  less  com- 
monplace in  character  than  that  of  his  niaturer  years,  but 
his  statue  of  Voltaire  (Institut)  and  his  tombs  of  Comte 
d'Harcourt  (Notre  Dame)  and  of  Marshal  Saxe  (I/Uthefan 
church,  Strasburg)  are  good  specimens  of  French  sculpture* 
in  the  18th  century.     He  died  on  21st  August  1785. 

See  Tftf  be,  Vie  el  miiv.  de  Pigalle  ;  Suard,  £loge  de  Pigalle ; 
Melanges  cK  iiiUralure  ;  Diissieux,  Les  artistes fran^ais  d  I'Uranger; 
Barbet  de  Jouy,  Sculptures  mod.  Louvre. 

PIGAULT-LEBRUN,  Chaeles  Antoine  Guillaume, 
sometimes  called  Pigault  de  L'fipmoY  (1753-1835),  the 
chief  fiction  writer  of  the  first  empire,  and  the  most 
popular  light  novelist  of  France  before  Paul  de  Kofk,  waa 
born  at  Calais  (he  is  said  to  have  traced  his  pedigree  on 
the  mother's  side  to  Eustache  de  St  Pierre)  on  April  8, 
1753.  His  youth  was  decidedly  stormy.  He  twice 
carried  off  young  ladies  of  some  position,  and  was  in  con- 
sequence twice  imprisoned  by  lettre  de  cachet.  His  first 
love,  a  Miss  Crawford,  the  daughter  of  an  English  merchant 
whose  office  Pigault  had  entered,  died  almost  immediately 
after  her  elopement ;  the  second.  Mademoiselle  de  Salens,  he 
married.  Besides  his  commercial  and  criminal  experiences, 
he  was  a  soldier  in  the  queen's  guards,  an  actor,  and  a 
teacher  of  French.  At  the  breaking  out  of  the  great  war 
he  re-enlisted  and  fought  at  Valmy.  It  should  be  said, 
however,  that  the  romantic  incidents  of  his  life  are  differ- 
ently related  by  different  authorities,  and  are  open  to  not 
a  little  suspicion.  Although  he  had  tried  dramatic  writing, 
he  does  not  seem  to  have  attempted  prose  fiction  till  he 
was  forty,  but  from  that  time  he  was  a  fertile  writer  of 
novels  for  nearly  thirty  years.  In  his  old  age  he  took  to 
graver  work,  and  executed  an  abridgment  of  French  history 
in  eight  volumes,  besides  some  other  work.  His  (Euvres 
Completes  were  published  in  twenty  volumes  between  1822 
and  1824.  He  died  on  July  24,  1835.  Pigault's  numer- 
ous novels,  though  still  occasionally  reprinted,  are  not 
much  read ;  and  none  of  them  is  much  better  or  worse 
than  any  other.  Their  style  is  insignificant,  and  their 
morality  very  far  from  severe.  But  Pigault  deserves  the 
credit,  such  as  it  is,  of  being  almost  the  first  writer  of 
numerous  light  novels  calculated  to  hit,  and  which  suc- 
ceeded in  hitting,  the  taste  of  his  day.  Nor  was  he  by 
any  means  without  wit.  As  almost  the  father  of  a  kind 
of  literature  which  has  since  developed  itself  enormously, 
and  which,  whatever  may  be  its  intrinsic  merits,  has  main- 
tained and  increased  its  popularity  for  a  century,  Pigault- 
Lebrun  deserves  a  certain  pkce  in  literary  history. 

PIGEON,'  French  Pigeon,  Italian  Piccione  and  Pipione, 
Latin  Pipio,  literally  a  nestling-bird  that  pipes  or  cries 
out,  a  "  Piper " — the  very  name  now  in  use  among 
Pigeofi-fanciers.  The  word  Pigeon,  doubtless  of  Norman 
introduction  as  a  polite  term,  seems  to  bear  much  the  same 
relation  to  Dove,  the  word  of  Anglo-Saxon  origin,  that 
mutton  has  to  sheep,  beef  to  ox,  veal  to  calf,  and  pork  to 
bacon ;  but,  as  before  stated  (Dove,  vol.  vii.  p.  379),  no 
sharp  distinction  can  be  drawn  between  the  two,  and  the 
collective  members  of  the  group  Columhx  are  by  ornitho- 
logists ordinarily  called  Pigeons.  »-  perhaps  the  best  known 
species  to  which  the  latter  name  is  exclusively  given  in 
common  speech  -  is  the  Wild  Pigeon  or  Passenger-Pigeon 

'  See  further  unuer  the  heading  Poultry. 

^  It  may  be  observed  that  the  "  Rock-Pigeons  "  of  Anglo-Indians  are 
SiND-GKOUiii  ( j.t'.),  and  the  "Cape  Pigeon"  of  sailors  is  a  Petrel  (q.v. ). 


P  I  G  — P  1  O 


85 


of  North  America,  Edopistes  migratorhts,  which  is  etiU 
plentiful  in  many  parts  of  Canada  and  the  United  States, 
though  no  longer  ajipearing  in  the  countless  numbers  that 
it  did  of  old,  when  a  flock  seen  by  Wilson  was  estimated 
to  consist  of  more  than  2230  millions.  The  often-quoted 
descriptions  given  by  him  and  Audubon  of  Pigeon-haunts 
in  the  then  "  back  woods  "  of  Kentucky,  Ohio,  and  Indiana' 
need  not  here  be  reproduced.  That  of  the  latter  was 
declared  by  Waterton  to  bo  a  gross  exaggeration  if  not  an 
entire  fabrication;  but  the  critic  would  certainly  have 
changed  his  tone  had  he  known  that,  some  hundred  and 
fifty  years  earlier,  Passenger-Pigeons  so  swarmed  and 
ravaged  the  colonists'  crops  near  Montreal  that  a  bishop 
of  his  own  church  was  constrained  to  exorcise  them  with 
holy  water,  as  if  they  had  been  demons.'  The  rapid  and* 
sustained  flight  of  these  Pigeons  is  also  as  well-established 
as  their  former  overwhelming  abundance — birds  having 
been  killed  in  the  State  of  New  York  whose  crops  con- 
tai'ned  undigested  grains  of  rice  that  must  have  been  not 
long  before  plucked  aod  swallowed  in  South  Carolina  or 
Georgia.  The  Passenger-Pigeon  is  about  the  size  of  a 
common  Turtle-Dove,  but  with  a  long,  wedge-shaped  tail. 
The  male  is  of  a  dark  slate-eblour  above,  and  purplish-bay 
beneath,  the  sides  of  the  neck  being  enlivened  by  gleaming 
violet,  green,  and  gold.  The  female  is  drab-coloured 
above  and  dull  white  beneath,  with  only  a  slight  trace  of 
the  brilliant  neck-markings.^ 

Among  the  multitudinous  lornis  of  Pigeons  very'few 
can  here  be  noticed.  A  species  which  seems  worthy  of 
attention  as  being  one  that  might  possibly  repay  the 
trouble  of  domestication,  if  any  enterprising  person  would 
give  it  the  chance,  is  the  Wonga-wonga  or  White-fleshed 
Pigeon  of  Australia,  Leucosarcia  picala,  a  bird  larger  than 
the  Ring-Dove,  of  a  slaty-blue  colour  above  and  white 
beneath,  streaked  on  the  flanks  with  black.  It  is  known 
to  breed,  though  not  very  freely,  in  captivity,  and  is  said 
to  be  excellent  for  the  table.  As  regards  flavour,  however, 
those  who  nave  been  so  fortunate  as  to  eat  them  declare 
that  the  Fruit-Pigeons  of  the  genus  Treroti  (or  Vinago  of 
some  authors)  and  its  allies  surpass  all  birds.  Thcso 
inhabit  tTO\  ical  Africa,  India,  and  especially  the  Malay 
Archipelago ;  but  the  probability  of  domesticating  any  of 
them  is  very  remote.  Hardly  less  esteemed  are  the 
Pigeons  of  the  genas  Ptilopus  and  its  kindred  forms,  which 
have  their  headquarters  in  the  Pacific  Islands,  though 
"ome  occur  far  to  the  westward,  and  also  in  Australia. 
Among  them  are  found  the  most  exquisitely-coloured  of 
the  whole  Family.  There  may  bo  mentioned  the  strange 
Nicobar  Pigeon,  Calcenas,  an  inhabitant  of  the  Indian 
Archipelago,  not  less  remarkable  for  the  long  lustrous 
hackles  with  which  its  neck  is  clothed  than  for  the  struc- 
ture of  its  gizzard,  which  has  been  described  by  Prof. 
Flower  (Proc.  Zool.  Society,  1860,  p.  330),  though  this 
peculiarity  is  matched  or  even  surpassed  by  that  of  the 
aame  organ  in  the  Fhxnorrkina  golialh  of  Now  Caledonia 
'[Rev.  lie  Zoologie,  1862,  p.  138)  and  in  the  Carpophaga 
latrans  of  Fiji.  In  this  last  the  surface  of  the  epithelial 
lining  is  besot  by  horny  conical  processes,  adapted,  it  is 
believed,  for  crashing  the  very  hard  fruits  of  Onocarpus 
vitiensis  on  which  tho  bird  feeds  (Proc^  Zool.  Society,  1878; 
p.  102).  The  modern  giants  of  the  group,  consisting  of 
about  half  a  dozen  species  of  tho  genus  Goura  and  known  as 


^  Voyages  dii^Baron  de  l(t  Ilonlayi  dans  V Ainerique  srptcnirionalc. 
ed.  2,  Amstcnlarn,  1705,  v-il.  i.  pp.  93,  94.  In  tho  first  edition,  pub- 
lished at  Tho  llagiio  in  1703,  tho  passage,  less  explicit  in  details  but 
to  the  same  effect,  is  at  p.  80.  Tlie  autlior'a  letter,  describing  tho  cir- 
cumstance, is  dated  May  1687. 

'  There  are  several  records  of  tde  occurrence  in  Bnt.iin  of  this 
Pigeon,  but  in  most  cases  the  birds  noticed  cannot  bo  supposed  to 
have  found  their  own  way  liither.  One,  which  was  shot  in  Fife  in 
1825,  may,  however,  have  crossed  tho  Atlantic  unassisted  by  man. 


Crowned-Pigeons,  belong  to  New  Guinea  and  the  neighbour- 
ing islands,  but  want  of  space  forbids  further  notice  of  their 
characteristics,,  of  which  the  most  consi^icuous  are.  their 
large  size  and  tho  reticulated  instead  of  scutellated  covet- 
ing of  their  "  tarsi." 

A  very  distinct  type  of  Pigeon  is  that  represented  bv 
Didunculvs  strigirostris,  the  "  Manu-mea  "  of  Samoa,  etUl 
believed  by  some  to  be  the  next  of  kin  to  the  Dodo  (voL' 
vii.  p.  321),  but  really  presenting  only  a  superficial 
resemblance  in  the  shape  of  its  bill  to  that. effete  form^ 
from  which  it  dift'ers  osteologically;  quite  as  much  as  do 
other  Pigeons  {Phil.  Transactions,  1869,  p.  349).  It  Te- 
mains  to  be  seen  whether  the  Papuan  genus  Otidipkaps} 
of  which  several  species  are  now  known,  may  not  belong 
rather  to  the  Didunculidx  than  to  the  true  Coltanbidse  (see 
Ornithology,  vol.  xviii.  p.  46). 

At  least  500  species  of  Pigeons  have  been  described,  and 
many  methods  of  arranging  them  suggested.  That  b^ 
Garrod  {Proc.  Zool.  Society,  1874,  pp.  249-259)  is  one  of 
the  most  recent ;  but,  for  reasons  before  assigned  (vol.  xviii.' 
p.  40),  it  is  not  satisfactory.  Temminck's  great  work  on 
the  group  with  its  continuation  by  it.  Florent-Provost/ 
already  mentioned  (vol.  xviii;  p.  11),  is  of  course  whollw 
out  of  date,  as  also  Selby's  more  modest  Natural  History 
of  the  Columbidx  (forming  vol.  ix.  of  Jardine's  A'aturalist's 
Library).  Schlegel's  catalogue  of  the  specimens  contained 
in  the  museum  at  Leyden  {Museum  des  Pays-Bas,  livr.j 
10,  1873)  contains  much  useful  information,  but  a  new 
monograph  of  the  Pigeons,  containing  all  the  recentj 
discoveries,  is  much  wanted.  (a.  n.) 

PIGMENTS  are  coloured  powders  which,  when  "mixec| 
with  oil,  water,  or  other  fluids,  in  which  they  are  in-^ 
soluble,  form  paints.  They  are  distinguished  from  dyes 
and  washes  by  their  entire  insolubility  in  the  media  in 
which  they  are  mixed,  whereas  dye-stufl's  are  tinctorial  sub- 
stances applied  in  solution.  Insoluble  colours,  when  used 
in  printing  textile  fabrics,  are  distinguished  as  pigment 
colours.  The  sources  of  materials  available  as  pigments 
are  numerous ;  many  are  native  coloured  earths,  others  ara 
separated  from  native  metallic  compounds  and  other 
mineral  substances ;  a  largo  number  are  artificially  pre- 
pared from  inorganic — principally  metallic — sources  ;  an 
important  class  consist  of  animal  and  vegetable  colouring 
principles,  forming  with  earthy  bodies  insoluble  powders 
called  lakes ;  and  the  dye-stofl's  artificially  obtanned  from 
organic  sources  are  also  similarly  utilized.  In  fact  all 
substances  coloured  or  neutral,  capable  of  being  presented 
in  the  form  of  impalpable  powder,  which  at  the  same  time 
are  insoluble  and  unalterable  under  ordinary  atmospheric 
influences,  may  be  regarded  as  possible  pigments.  But 
there  are  many  qualities  practically  essential  in  a  pigment 
which  limit  tho  range  of  availab'o  substances.  A  con- 
sideration of  tho  first  importance  is  the  "  body  "  or  cover- 
ing power  of  a  pigment,— that  is,  tho  property  of  fullj^ 
covering  and  concealing  with  an  opaque  coating  tho  surface) 
over  which  it  is  spread.  It  is  also  important  that  tho 
material  should  work  well  in,  and  be  unaffected  in  appear- 
ance and  constitution  by  tho  medium  with  which  it  is 
made  into  a  paint,  and  that  it  should  Ri)rcftd  in  an  even 
uniform  coat,  which  should  dry  well  and  (|uickly  in  tho'air' 
and  adhere  firmly  to  tho  surface  to  which  it  is  apjilicd.' 
When  dry  it  should  possess  durability  and  resist  change 
under  tho  action  of  weather  and  other  influences  to  which' 
paint  is  exposed.  Thcso  are  tho  principal  qualities  re-' 
quisito  in  paints  in  their  itn]iortttiit  function  of  preserva- 
tive coatings  for  tho  surfaces  to  which  they  arc  applied.' 
On  their  artistic  side,  as  decorative  and  ])ictorial  materials,' 
jiigmcnts  should  pos.scss  purity  and  brightnes.s  of  colour 
with  intensity  of  tinting  power,  capacity  for  mixing  or 
coming  into  contact  with  other  colours  without  injuiiouily 


SG 


V  I  (}  M  E  N  T  S 


affecting  tliese  or  being  themselves  deteriorated,  and  jier- 
manence  and  unalterability  of  tone  after  long  exposure. 

Pigments  being  so  numerous  and  so  diverse  in  their 
origin,  the  industries  connected  with  their  production  and 
preparation  are  of  necessity  varied  in  character.  Many  of 
the  substances  employed  being  used  in  large  quantities  in 
other  important  industrial  relations,  as  well  as  for  paints, 
are  manufactured  on  a  large  scale  and  constitute  the  basis 
of  considerable  chemical  industries,  as,  for  example,  the 
manufacture  of  white  lead,  Prussian  blue,  ultramarine, 
the  chrome  materials,  <fcc.  In  other  cases  the  materials 
require  no  preparation  other  than  that  given  to  them  by 
the  paint-grinder  or  the  artists'  folourman,  according  to 
the  purjiose  for  which  the  substances  are  to  be  prepared. 

The  colour  trade  embraces  two  distinct  departments: — 
that  of  the  paint-grinder,  who  manufactures  and  com- 
pounds the  pigments  used  by  artisans,  house-painters,  and 
paper-stainers ;  and  that  of  the  artists'  colourman,  who 
prepares  and  supplies  the  finer,  more  brilliant,  and  exten- 
sive assortment  of  pigments  used  for  artistic  purposes. 
The  pigments  employed  for  pottery  painting  and  glass  and 
enamel  work  are  a  special  class  of  preparations  to  suit  the 
requirements  of  these  trades.  Leaving  out  of  account  the 
chemical  reactions  involved  in*  preparing  raw  materials, 
the  ordinary  manufacturing  operations  connected  with  the 
preparation  of  painters'  colours  are  simple,  and  consist 
essentially  of  a  careful  system  of  grinding.  Formerly, 
when  painters  ground  their  own  colours,  a  stone  slab  and 
muller  formed  the  entire  apparatus ;  but  now,  when  paint- 
grinding  has  become  a  separate  industry,  efficient  machinery 
has  been  devised  for  grinding  and  its  collateral  operations. 
Bulky  and  rough  colours  such,  as  whiting  and  common 
ochres  are  dry-ground  under  heavy  edge  stones  which 
revolve  in  a  strong  iron  bed.  Ordinary  dry  colours 
requiring  to  be  pulverized  with  more  care  are  mixed  to  a 
thin  cream  with  water,  which  is  fed  into  and  ground 
principally  between  a  pair  of  millstones  dressed  and 
mounted  like  the  ordinary  horizontal  stones  of  a  flour 
mUl,  but  smaller  in  diameter.  For  fine  colours  the  pig- 
ment so  ground  is  levigated,  or  floated  into  a  vat  in  which 
the  beaviy  particles  sink,  and  the  lighter,  more  finely 
divided  poruon  is  run  into  aiiother  vessel  at  a  lower  level, 
•where  it  is  deposited  as  a  fine  sediment.  The  sediment  is 
dried  in  a  uniformly  heated  stove,  and  when  thoroughly 
dry  is  again  pulverized  under  a  pair  of  edge  stones,  and 
sifted  or  winnowed ;  so  treated  it  is  ready  for  use  as  dry 
colour.  The  greater  proportion  of  the  white  lead  and  the 
other  common  oil  paints  are  ground  in  oil.  For  this 
purpose  the  raw  material  is  mixed  in  a  machine  with  oil 
(sometimes  boiled)  to  the  consistence  of  a  stiffish  paste,  and 
in  this  state  it  is  ground  in  horizontal  paint  millstones, 
after  which  it  requires  no  further  preparation  than  the 
necessary  thinning  with  oil  when  to  be  used  for  painting. 
There  are  many  varieties  of  apparatus  used  for  grinding 
both  dry  and  oil  colours. 

The  artists'  colourman  grinds  his  pigments  with  much 
greater  labour,  and  selects  his  materials  in  a  more  care- 
ful manner,  than  is  necessary  in  the  case  of  the  ordinary 
ipaint^grinder.  Pigments  for  artistic  painting  in  oil  are 
ground  in  that  medium  to  a  definite  consistency,  and  are 
iput  up  for  use  in  convenient  compressible  tubes  of  tin. 
(For  water  colours  the  pigments  are  prepared  principally 
dn  the  form  of  small  indurated  cakes  or  as  "  moist  colours  " 
contained  in  small  porcelain  dishes.  Water  colours  may 
also  be  obtained  thin  in  tin  tubes  like  oil  colours,  or  as 
"pastilles,"  which  are  thin  round  ca,kes  intermediate  in 
condition  between  cake  and  moist  colours. 

In  enumerating  the  principal  commercial  pigments  it  is 
nsual  and  convenient  to  classify  them  according  to  their 
tints.     They   are   not,  as  a   rule,  definite  chemica,l  com- 


pounds: many  indeed  arc  mixed  substances  prepared  by 
processes  and  according  to  recipes  known  only  to  their 
makers ;  and,  while  the  .>«ime  commercial  name  is  fre- 
quently given  to  substances  quite  dissimilar  in  ch.aractcr. 
the  confusion  is  further  increased  by "  ajjplying  many 
difierent  titles  to  substances  which  arc  practically  ideuti. 
cal.  Thus  white  lead  is  known  by  at  least  a  dozen  names, 
and  distinct  and  even  conflicting  quahties  are  by  autho- 
rities attributed  to  this  one  substance  under  its  various 
aliases. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  catalogue  all  the  paints  met 
with  in  commercial  lists,  and  it  would  serve  no  good 
purpose  to  enumerate  the  whole  of  the  jiigments  which 
might  be  and  are  occasionally  used.  Premising  that 
details  regarding  many  of  the  substances  will  be  found 
under  the  heading  of  the  metals,  &c.,  whence  they  are 
derived,  we  shall  here  simply  classify,  according  to  their 
colour,  the  principal  well-recognized  pigments  of  commerce, 
adding  brief  remarks  regarding  each  class. 

White  Pigments. — The  whites  are  the  most  important  pigments 
used  by  paintci-s,  foiming  as  they  do  the  basis  or  body  of  nearly  all 
paints,  excepting  only  certain  dark  hues.  Good  available  wliites 
are  limited  in  number,  and  all  of  real  importance  are  included  in 
the  following  list : — white  lead,  a  carbonate  of  lead  (chieily);  zinc 
white,  oxide  of  zinc,  called  also  Chinese  white ;  antimony  white, 
oxide  of  antimony  ;  fixed  white,  sulphate  of  baryta ;  "  silicate  " 
white,  sulphate  of  baryta,  or  strontia  and  sulphide  of  zinc ;  mineral 
white,  powdered  gypsum  (with  alumina  it  forms  satin  white); 
chalk  or  whiting  carbonate  of  lime."  and  china  clay,  silicate  of 
alumina. 

lyhile  Lead  (see  Lead,  vol.  xiv.  p.  378)  is  the  most  important 
of  all  pigments,  and  forms  the  basis  of  nearly  all  ordinary  oil 
paints,  which,  when  coloured,  consist  of  white  lead  tinted  with  the 
necessary  coloured  pigments.  It  possesses  the  greatest  amount  of 
body  or  covering  power,  and  works  beautifully  in  oil,  with  which  it 
partially  combines,  drying  as  a  hard  homogeneous  adiierent  plaster. 
On  the  other  hand  it  is  a  most  poisonous  body,  very  injurious  to 
the  persons  connected  with  many  of  the  processes  by  which  it  is 
prepared.  As  an  oil  colour  it  darkens  gradually  in  an  atmosphere 
containing  traces  of  sulphur ;  it  cannot  be  used  at  all  as  a  water  or 
distemper  colour;  and  it  acts  injuriously  on  the  colour  of  several 
important  pigments.  Notwithstanding  these  drawbacks  no  white 
has  yet  been  madt  that  can  compete  with  white  lead,  although 
paint  manufacturers  go  far  to  provide  a  substitute  by  adulterating 
it  to  such  an  extent  that  the  white  lead  frequently  bears  only  a 
small  ratio  to.  the  adulterant.  Baryta  white  is  the  ordinary 
adulterant,  and  among  respectable  manufacturers  the  intermixture 
is  a  well-understood  fact,  and  the  relative  proportions  of  white  lead 
and  baryta  are  regulated  by  a  series  of  grades  passing  from 
"  genuine  "  to  No.  5  or  No.  6  white  lead.  Many  efforts  have  been 
made  to  substitute  for  ordinary  white  lead  lead  carbonates  made 
by  other-  processes,  and  other  lead  salts  such  as  the  oxychlorido 
(Pattinson's),  sulphate,  tnngstate,  antimoniate,  &c.  ;  but  none  of 
these  has  proved  permanently  successful. 

Zinic  White. — Next  in  importance  to  white  lead,  is  an  oxide  of 
zinc  prepared  by  the  sublimation  and  combustion  of  metallic  zinc. 
The  pigment  is  deficient  in  covering  power  and  it  dries  but  slowly 
when  mixed  with  oil.  On  the  other  hand  it  is  not  injurious  to 
health,  its  purity  of  tone  is  not  affected  by  sulphurous  air,  it  does 
not  affect  tints  added  to  it  or  with  which  it  comes  in  contact,  and 
it  can  be  used  in  water  as  well  as  in  oil.  Like  white  lead  it  is  very 
much  adulterated,  and  generally  with  the  same  agent — barj-ta  white. 

Baryta  Jr/iiie  plays  an  important  independent  part  as  well  as 
acting  so  extensively  as  a  sophisticator  of  other  pigments.  It  -is 
prepared  by  grinding  to  a  fine  powder  the  pure  white  native 
sulphate  of  baryta  (heavy  spar),  and  the  same  substance  artificially 
prepared  is  known  as  permanent  white  or  hlancfixi.  The  artificial 
preparation  is  much  superior,  as  a  pigment,  to  the  powdered  spar  ; 
but  both  are  deficient  in  body,  notwithstanding  which  they  are  of 
great  value  to  paper-stainers  and  for  distemper  painting. 

Under  the  name  of  Charlton  White  or  silicate  paints,  Mr  J.  R 
Orr  prepares  a  range  of  white  paints  which  have  come  into  exten- 
sive use.  The  pigment  as  originally  prepared  under  Mr  Orr's 
patent  of  1874  consisted  of  an  intimate  mixture  of  artificial  sul- 
phate of  baryta  and  sulphide  of  zinc  in  certain  proportions,  made 
by  the  double  decomposition  of  solutions  of  barium  sulphide  and 
sulphate  of  zinc.  In  1881  a  patent  was  secured  by  Mr  Orr  for  a 
combination  in  which  strontia  takes  the  place  of  baryta.  It  is 
claimed  for  thesa  pigments  that  they  possess  body  greater  than 
white  lead,  thar  they  are  non-poisonous,  and  that  with  certain 
modifications  in  the  manufacture  they  can  be  made  quite  as 
valuable  for  distemper  paintirg  as  for  oil  colours. 


PIGMENTS 


87 


The  oxides  of  antimony,  tin,  bismatli,  &c.,  form  white  pigments; 
'/Ut  tlicse  possess  no  peculiarities  which  render  them  valuable  for 
painters'  use.  The  carbonate  of  lime,  more  or  less  pure  and  in 
various  degrees  of  pulverulence  undfr  several  names,  such  as  Clialk 
IVhiU,  Paris  lyhite,  IVhiting,  &c.,  is  vciy  extensively  used  in 
distemper  work  for  walls,  roofs,  ic,  and  in  paper-staining,  occupy- 
ing in  these  relations  the  important  jilace  held  by  white  lead  in  oil 
painting.  Mineral  wliito  or  satin  white  consists  of  powdered 
gypsum  and  alumina,  a  preparation  very  largely  used  by  paper- 
stainers  for  their  glossy  satin  bodies.  There  are  several  other 
white  earths  of  relatively  little  importance  as  pigments. 

Blue  Figments. — The  list  of  blue  colours  of  real  importance  is 
not  extensive,  comprising,  as  principal  items,  ultramarine,  Prussian 
blue,  the  cobalt  blues,  and  indigo.  The  following  list  embraces  the 
eames  and  varieties  ordinarily  recognized  in  commerce : — ultra- 
marine (native),  powdered  lapis  lazuli  ;  ultramarine  (artificial), 
silicates  of  alumina  and  soda  with  sulphide  of  sodium  ;  Prussian 
blue,  cyanide  of  iron ;  Paris  blue,  modified  Prussian  blue ;  Antwerp 
blue,  tine  Prussian  blue  ;  smalts,  a  cobalt  glass  ;  azure  blue,  a 
preparation  of  smalts  ;  cobalt  or  Thenard's  blue,  sub-phosphate  of 
cobalt ;  cairuleum,  stannato  of  cobalt  and  sulphate  of  lime ; 
mountain  blue,  native  carbonate  of  copper  ;  lime  blue,  carbonate 
of  copper  and  lime  ;  Verditor  or  Bremen  blue,  hydratcd  oxide  of 
copper ;  indigo  from  species  of  Jndigofera ;  indigo  carmine,  prepara- 
tion of  indigo. 

Apart  from  the  important  colours  Ultraslarine,  Prussian 
Blue,  and  Indigo,  separately  noticed,  these  blues,  which  are  not  of 
much  value  for  painters,  owe  their  colour  principally  to  cobalt  and 
copper.  The  principal  cobalt  colour  \a  Smalts,  called  also  strewing 
smalts,  cobalt  glass,  zaffre.  Saxony  blue,  &c.  It  is  prepared  by 
smelting  together  the  mineral  arsenide  of  cobalt,  pure  sand,  and 
carbon.atc  of  potash  into  a  glass.  The  molten  glass  is  cast  into 
cold  water,  then  ground  fine  and  levigated.  Smalts  is  chiefly 
available  for  distemper  and  fresco  painting,  and  is  not  much  used  as 
an  oil  colour.  Azure  Blue  is  generally  recognized  as  a  preparation 
of  smalts,  but  the  name  is  given  to  several  compounds.  CxruUum 
is  a  light  blue  colour  of  durable  quality  with  a  greenish  tinge, 
consisting  af  a  combination  of  cobalt  oxide  with  stannic  acid;  and 
Cobalt  Blue,  the  subjdiosphato  of  cobalt,  a  colour  discovered  by 
Thenard,  jiossesses  a  purple  tinge.  Carbonate  of  copper,  cither  in 
the  form  of  the  mineral  azurite  or  artificially  prepared,  isa  principal 
source  of  the  copper  blues,  which,  however,  possess  little  value  as 
pigments  owing  to  their  tendency  to  blacken  under  exposure. 
Blue  Verditer,  a  greenish  blue  which  passes  into  green  vorditer,  is 
a  hydrated  oxide  of  copper. 

Yellow  Pigments. — The  {ollowing  list  inclades  the  ordinaiy 
yellow  colours  of  commerce  : — ochres  and  sienna  earth,  native 
eartlis  tinted  with  iron ;  Mars  yellow,  hydrated  ferric  oxide ; 
chromes,  chromatcs  of  lead  and  other  metals  ;  massicot,  protoxide 
of  lead  ;  Naples  yellow,  antimoniato  of  lead ;  mineral  yellow,  basic 
chloride  of  lead ;  aureolin,  nitrate  of  potassium  and  cobalt ;  cadmium 
yellow,  sulphide  of  cadmium  ;  or|iimcnt,  trisulphide  of  arsenic  ; 
Indian  yellow,  urio-phosphate  of  calcium  ;  gamboge,  ruein  of 
Garcinia  ;  Dutch  pink,  a  vegetable  lake  ;  yellow  lakes. 

Of  these  colours  the  more  important  are  the  oclircs  and  the 
various  combinations  containing  chromium.  The  Yclloto  Ochres  &ra 
native  eartlis  coloured  with  hydrated  ferric  oxide,  thebrowni.sh  yellow 
substance  that  colours,  and  is  deposited  from,  highly  ferruginous 
water.  These  ochres  are  of  two  kinds — one  having  an  argillaceous 
basis,  while  the  other  is  a  calcareous  earth,  the  argillaceous  variety 
being  in  general  the  richer  and  more  pure  in  colour  of  the  two.  Both 
kinds  are  widely  distributed,  fine  qualities  being  found  in  Oxford- 
shire, the  Isle  of  Wight,  near'  Jena  and  Nuremberg  in  Germany, 
and  in  Franco  in  the  departments  of  Yonne,  Cher,  and  Nievre. 
The  original  colour  of  these  ochres  can  be  modified  and  varied  into 
browns  and  reds  of  more  or  less  intensity  by  calcination.  The 
high  heat  expels  the  water  of  hydration  from  the  iron  oxide, 
changing  it  into  red  ferric  oxide.  Tlio  nature  of  the  associated 
earth  also  influences  the  colour  assumed  by  an  ochre  under  calcina- 
tion, aluminous  ochres  developing  red  and  violet  tints,  while  the 
calcareous  varieties  take  brownish  red  and  dark  brown  hues.  The 
well-known  ochre  Terra  da  Sitnna  which  in  its  raw  state  is  a  dull- 
coloured  ochre,  becomes  when  burnt  a  fine  warm  mahogany  brown 
hue  highly  valued  for  artistic  purposes.  Yellow  ochres  are  also 
artificially  prepared — Mars  Yellow  being  cither  pure  hydrated 
ferric  oxide  or  an  intimate  mixture  of  that  substance  with  an 
argillaceous  or  calcareous  earth,  and  such  compounds  by  careful 
calcination  can  bo  transfoi-niod  into  Mars  Ortiiige,  Vwlet,  or  Jlcd, 
all  highly  important,  stable,  and  reliable  tints.  The  melul 
chromium  owes  its  name  to  the  intense  coloration  produced  by  thi- 
combination  of  its  oxide,  chromic  acid,  with  various  metals  and 
alkaline  earths.  Several  of  these  salts  are  soluble,  but  those  which 
form  pigments  are  insoluble  compounds.  The  principal  chrome 
pigments— the  various  shades  of  lemon  and  yellow  chrome  deepen- 
ing to  orange  tints — are  composed  of  the  neutral  chrnmato  of  lend, 
the  difTereneo  of  hue  depending  on  the  greater  or  smaller  proportion 
«{  lead  used  in  the  prefaration.     Tho  basic  chromato  of  load  has  a 


deep  orange  colour  passing  into  the  minium-re d-like  hue  of  chrome 
led.  Slronlia  Chrome,  the  chromate  of  strontium,  is  a  pale  lemon 
pigment  of  fine  quality  and  permanence.  With  zinc,  chromic  aciil 
forms  two  combinations,  neutral  and  basic,  both  possessed  of  an 
intense  yellow  colour ;  and  chromate  of  barium  also  furnishes  a 
useful  yellow  colour.  Lead  itself;  without  chromium,  is  the  basis 
of  several  valuable  yellows.  Massicot,  the  protoxide  of  lead,  is  a 
clear  yellow  pigment  deficient  in  body,  tiaplea  Yellow,  a  colour 
highly  esteemed  by  early  artists,  is  an  antimoniate  of  lead  which 
in  early  times  was  obtained  from  native  sources;  and  Mineral 
Yellow  is  an  cxychloride  of  lead.  The  sulphide  of  cadmium  forms 
the  fine  durable  Cadmium  Yellow,  a  colour  now  much  ajipreciated 
for  artistic  use.  Tho  arsenical  yellow,  Orjnment,  is  now  little  used 
as  a  pigment,  although  formerly,  under  such  names  as  King's 
Yellow,  Imperial  Yellow,  and  Chinese  Yellow,  it  was  held  in  high 
esteem  by  artists.  Aureolin,  a  nitrate  of  potassium  and  cobalt,  is 
a  colour  of  recent  origin  which  has  come  into  high  favour  among 
artists.  Indian  Yellow  is  a  colour  of  animal  origin  of  no  perma- 
nence, and  Gamboge  is  a  gum  resin  yielded  by  trees  of  the  genas 
Garcinia,  principally  employed  as  a  water  colour.  The  yellow  lakes 
are  comparatively  unimportant,  but  some,  known,  rather  abscrdly,as 
Dutch,  English,  or  Italian  Pink,  are  largely  used  in  paper-staining. 

Red  Pigments  embrace  two  distinct  series  of  substances — the 
reds  of  inorganic  origin,  and  red  lakes  obtained  from  animal  and 
vegetable  colours.  The  principal  commercial  varieties  are  as 
follows  : — rouge,  Turkey  red,  and  Indian  red,  red  ferric  oxide  ; 
Venetian  red,  ochreous  ferric  oxide  ;  ochres,  earths  coloured  by 
ferric  oxide ;  vermilion  and  cinnabar,  sulphide  of  mercury ; 
antimony  vermilion,  red  sulphide  of  antimony  ;  Derby  red,  a 
form  of  chrome  red  ;  red  lead  or  minium,  red  oxide  of  lead  ;  chrome 
red,  basic  chromate  of  lead  ;  realgar,  bisulphide  of  arsenic  ;  madder 
lake,  alizarin  and  alumina ;  madder  carmine,  preparation  of  aliza- 
rin ;  carmine  lake,  cochineal  red  and  alumina ;  carmine,  prepara- 
tion of  cochineal ;  wood  lakes,  from  various  red  dyewoods. 

The  principal  mineral  reds  owe  their  colour  to  oxides  of  iron  and 
to  compounds  of  mercury.  The  reds  due  to"  iron  are  closely  allied 
to  the  yellow  ochres  and  other  ferruginous  pigments.  As  already 
explained  in  connexion  with  these  yellows,  tints  passing  through 
orange  to  deep  purple  reds  are  obtained  by  calcination  of  yellow 
hydrated  ferric  oxide,  and  in  this  way  a  great  variety  of  ruddy  and 
red  tints  aro  prepared.  The  proportion  of  ferric  oxide  in  these 
compounds  ranges  from  pure  oxide  to  combinations  in  natural  ochres 
containing  not  more  than  2  or  3  per  cent,  of  iron.  liovge  or  Mars 
lied,  Crocus,  Indian  Bed,  and  Turkey  Bed  are  all  pure  ferric  oxide, 
varying  in  depth  of  tint  from  having  undergone  ditferent  degrees 
of  calcination,  or  from  being  made  from  different  artificial  or  natural 
sources.  The  other  iron  reds  are  all  of  the  nature  of  ochres — some 
of  them,  such  as  Venetian  Bed,  being  artificial  compounds.  These 
reds  form  exceedingly  useful  durable  colours  which  do  not  injuri- 
ously affect  the  tints  with  which  they  aro  associated.  Of  red 
colours  from  mercury.  Cinnabar  and  Vermilion  aro  the  most  import- 
ant, the  former  being  tho  native  and  the  latter  an  artificial  sul- 
phide of  mercury  (see  MzncUKV,  vol.  xvi.  p.  S-1).  Vermilion  is  one 
of  tho  most  pure,  brilliant,  solid,  and  durable  of  all  colours.  Its 
beauty  is  largely  afl'ected  by  the  smoothness  of  the  powder  to  which 
it  is  reduced,  and  in  this  respect  that  obtained  from  China  is 
of  the  highest  excellence.  Being  a  costly  pigment,  vermilion  is 
freely  adulterated  with  other  reds,  a  fraud  easily  detected  by  tho 
perfect  volatility  of  the  genuine  Bubstanec.  From  mercury  com- 
bined with  iodine  is  prepared  a  pigment  of  unequalled  vivacity 
and  brilliance.  Iodine  tScarlct,  but  unfortunately  as  fugitive  as  it  is 
bright,  and  conse(^uently  not  avaihiblo  for  work  requiring  perma- 
nence. The  principal  rod  colour  from  lead  is  Minium  or  Bed  Lead, 
a  pigment  of  great  antiquity  obtained  as  a  product  of  tho  oxidation 
of  massicot,  or  by  tho  calcination  and  oxidation  of  white  had.  It 
is  orange  red  in  colour,  of  goo<l  opacity  and  body,  but  it  has  the 
fault  of  white  lead  and  lead  colours  generally,  blackening  in  con- 
taminated air  and  injuring  colours  with  which  it  comes  in  contact 
By  itself  it  is  a  valuable  paint  for  first  coating  exjiosixl  iron  surfcccs 
to  prevent  their  oxidation,  and  it  is  an  excellent  dryer,  on  which 
account  it  is  much  used  in  ]>reparing  boiled  oil  for  pnintem.  Chrome 
lied,  a  basic  chromate  of  lead  known  also  n-s  Persian  or  Derby  Red, 
is  a  brilliant  pigment  ranging  in  tone  from  orange  to  a  deep 
vermilion  huo.  It  is  obtained  by  preoi[)itating  a  solution  of  acetate 
of  lead  with  bichromate  of  potasli,  with  the  addition  of  more  or  less 
of  cau.stic  potash  or  soda, — tho  proportion  of  tho  latter  addition 
determining  tho  depth  of  resultant  tone.  Antimony  Vcnnition  ia 
tho  red  variety  of  tho  sulphide  of  antimony  which,  ns  found  in 
nature  (stibnile),  is  a  dark  giey  body  with  metallic  lustre.  Tliis, 
when  fused  nnd  kept  some  time  at  a  high  licat  and  sudilenly  cooled, 
by  nllotropie  mi)ailication  becomes  a  fine  vermilion  red.  The 
colour  is  artificially  prejiarwl  by  acting  on  solutions  of  tho  butter  of 
antimony  (antimony  chloride)  with  hvposulphito  of  soda  or  lime. 
It  is  a  etilour  of  excellent  )>urily  aniHxidy  as  a  water  colour,  but 
unfortunately  it  becomes  brown  by  exposure.  The  lakes  form  a 
numerous  and  important  class  of  red  pigments.  A  lake  is  a  com- 
bination of  a  colour  of  organic  origin  with  a  metallic  oxide  or  salt, 


m 


P  I  K  —  P  I  K 


commonly  with  alumina.  Originally  all  lakes  were  red  colours,  the  I 
iianic  bcinr;  derived  from  the  lac  insect  Coccics  laccn,  the  colouring  ' 
^natter  of  which  forms  the  lake  now  known  as  Lac  Lake.  But 
Jakes  of  any  colour  or  tint  are  now  made.  The  most  important 
Jake  pigment  is  J/a(^c?er  in^'c,  a  compound  of  alumina  and  the 
tinctorial  principle  of  madder,  root,  Rubiu  officinalis,  hut  now 
in'ade  with  artificial  alizarin.  Scarlet  or  Carmine  Lake  has  cochineal 
for  its  colour  basis,  and  there 'are-  corresponding  lakes  from  lac, 
Jccrmes,  &c.  lyood  Lakes  coloured  with  several  of  the  red  dyewoods 
liavo  little  durability,  but  they  are  nevertheless  largely  used  by' 
paper-stainers.  Cuyuiinc,  a  colouring  matter  from  cochineaT,  and 
Madder  Carmine  or  Field's  Carmine,  from  madder,  arc  exceedingly 
brilliant  colours  ;  but  the  first  of  them  is  of  a  fugitive  character.  ■ 
_  Gi!Ei;>f  Pigments  form  an  extensive  group  -  embracing  two- 
sections: — (1)  simple  greens,  in  which  green  is  a  primary  inherent 
or  natural' colour  ;  and  (2)  compound  greens,  made  up  of  intimate 
mixtures  of  blue  and  yellow  ■pigments.  The  latter  class  it  is 
obvious  are  capable  of  indefinite  modification  by  simply  varying  the 
proportions  of  the  compound  ingredients.  The  following  list 
embraces  the  principal  commercial  gre?ns  : — Brunswick  green, 
oxychloride  of  copper  ;  malachite  green  or  mountain  green,  hydrated 
carbonate  of  cop|ier  ;  verdigris,  sub-acetate  of  copper  ;  verditer  or 
Bremen  green,  hydrated  oxide  of  copper  ;  Scheele's  green,  arsenite 
of  copper  ;  Schweinfurt  green,  mixed.acetate  and  arsenite  of  copper ; 
clnerald  green,  a  variety  of  Schweinfurt  green  ;  mineral  green, 
mixed  copper  oxide  and  arsenite  ;  chrome  green,  oxide  of  chromium  ; 
Guiguet  green  or  veridian,  hydrated  oxide  of  cliromium ;  Cassel 
green,  manganate  of  baryta  ;  cobalt  green,  oxides  of  cobalt  and 
zinc  ;  ultraniarine  green,  modified  artificial  ultramarine  ;  Veronese 
earth  or  terra  verde,  a  form  of  ochre  ;. green  lakes. 

The  greater  proportion  of  these  greens  are  copper  compounds — 
the  most  brilliant  of  them  containing  also  arsenic.  They  are  all 
poisonous  colours,  the  latter  especially  being  dangerous  poison ;  and 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  their  free  use  in  wall  papers,  the  colour- 
ing' of  toys,  artificial  flowers,  &c.,  is  frequently  the  source  of 
'dangerous  disease  and  even  death.  Srunsiciek  Green,  the  most 
important  non-arsenical  green,  is  an  oxychloride  of  copper,  but 
factitious  Brunswick  greens  are  not  uncommon.  Scheele's  .Green, 
the  arsenite  of  copper,  and  Schweinfurt  Green,  mixed  arsenite  and 
acetate  of  copper,  are  very  powerful  and  brilliant  colours.  These 
copper  greens  all  blacken  in  foul  gases  jnd  when  mixed  with  oil, 
and  thus,  although  they  possess  great  body,  they  are  much  more 
useful  to  the  paper-stainer  than  thj  painter.  The  sesquioxide  of 
chromium  both  water-free  and  hydrated,  prepared  in  various  ways, 
forms  important  stable  green  colours  which  resist  atmospheric 
influences  ;  and  chromium  is  further  the  basis  of  several  other  green 
colours,  which,  however,  are  not  of  importance.  Cobalt  Green,  a 
ini.xcd  oxide  of  cobalt  and  zinc,  discovered  by  the  Swedish  chemist 
Kinman,  is  a  valuable  and  durable  but  expensive  colour.  Cassel 
Green,  called  also  Koseiistiehl' s  Green,  is  a  fane  innocuous  pigment 
made  by  melting  together  sulphate  of  baryta  and  oxide  of  manganese, 
and  carefully  washing  the  resulting  mass  in  water.  Verotia  Green 
'or  Terra  Verde,  a  natural  celadon  green  highly  valued  by  artists  for 
permanence,  is  a  mixed  earthy  body  coloured  by  ferrous  oxide,  and 
Ultramarine  Green,  also  a  stable  body,  is  an  intermediate  pro- 
duct of  the  manufacture  of  ultramarine  blue. 

Brown  Pig^ients. — Many  oC  the  painters'  browns  are  simply 
tints  obtained  by  mixture.  In  the  case  of  simple"  pigments  the 
shades  pass  by  fine  gradations  into  yellows  aud  reds,  so  that  the 
limits  of  classification  are  not  well  defined.  The  fdllowing  are 
generally  classed  as  pure  browns  : — umber,  silicate  of  iron  and  man- 
ganese ;  brown  ochres,  called  Mars  brown,  iron  brown,  &c.,  native 
and  artificial  earths  ;  Vandyke  brown  and  Cologne  or  Cassel  brown, 
peaty  ochres  ;  purple  brown,  ferric  oxide  ;  Spanish  brown  or  tiver, 
a  brown  iron  ochro  ;  bistre,  washed  beechwood  soot ;  sepia,  secre- 
tion of  cuttle-fish  ;  brown  lake ;  asplraltum,  natural  and  artificial 
pitch. 

Iron  and  manganese,  separately  or  combined,  earthy  or  pure,  are 
the  sources  of  the  principal  brown  pigments.  Some  of  them  are 
intermediate  products  between  yellow  ochres  and  red  ochres  by 
^calcination  of  the  yellow,  and,  as  they  are  ochreous  in  their  nature, 
their  colours  may  be  heightened  or  otherwise  modified  by  calcining. 
^Thus  Umher,  which  properly  is  a  hydrated  silicate  of  manganese 
and  iron,  is  brightened  in  colour  by  calcination  into  Burnt  Umber. 
iThe  finest  umber  comes  from  the  island  of  Cyprus,  and  is  known  as 
fTiU'key  umber.  Large  quantities  also  of  "English"  umber  are 
mined  in  Devonshire  and  Cornwall.  Keal  Vandyke  Brown,  a  very 
celebrated  pigment,  ought  to  be  a  kind  of  bituminous  peaty  earth 
ora  fine  rich  semi-transparent  colour,  allied  to  which  are  Colog^ie 
and  Cassel  Earth.  But  under  the  name  Vandyke  brown  pure  ferric 
oxide  and  ferruginous  earths  of  a  clear  brown  hue  are  also  sold. 
Cappagh  Brown  is  a  peaty  earth  coloured  by  manganese,  found  at 
Cappagh  near  Cork,  Ireland,  and  is  a  valuable  artists'  colour,  as  is 
also  Bistre,  a  brown  washed  from  the  soot  of  beechwood.  Sepia,  a 
.much  valued  warm  brown,  is  a  substance  secreted  by  the  cuttle- 
fish. Sepia  officinalis,  which  emits  it  to  cloud  the  water  for  conceal- 
(ing  its  whereabouts  when  alarmed. 


Black  Pigments  form  a  numerous  cljss  of  bodies,  though  tliose 
in  common  use  are  easily  enumerated.  They  appear  in  commerce 
principally  under  these  names : — vegetable  black,  carboniccd 
vegetable  matter  ;  lamp  black,  soot  of  oils  and  fats  ;  Indian  ink,' 
preparation  of  lamp  black  ;  ivory  black,  carbonized  ivory  and  bone  ; 
bone  black,  carbonized  bone  ;  blue  black,  washed  wood  charcoal  ; 
charcoal  black,  carbonized  wood  ;  black  wad,  a  native  oxide  of 
manganese  ;  black  lead,  a  form  of  carbon  ;  tar,  from  distillation  of 
organic  substances.      -  _^ 

Most  of  these  blacks  owe^  their  colour  to  carbon.  From  the 
charring  of  vegetable  substances  are  prepared  Cluirccal  Black,  Blue 
Black,  and  Vegetable  Black,  but  these  take  many  names  according 
as  they  are  prepared  from  carbonized  wood,  twigs  of  the  grape  vine,> 
peach  and  other  fruit  stones,  cork,  the  lees  of  wine,  kc.  Bmie  and 
Jvory  Blacks  again  are  carbonized  animal  substances,  principally 
bones,  which  when  skilfully  burned  yield  dense  durable  blacks. 
Lamp  Black  of  the  best  quality  is  the  soot  deposited  from  tlve 
imperfect  combustion  of  oils  and  fats,  and  the  soots  of  resin  and  tar 
are  also  collected  and  used  under  this  name.  Indian  Ink  (see  vol. 
xiii.  p.  80)  is  a  form  under  which  lamp  black  of  the  finest  quality 
occupies  an  important  position  among  pigments.  Of  the  other 
blacks  Tar  is  the  most  important  owing  to  its  extensive  use  as  a 
preservative  and  antiseptic  coating. 

Several  pigments  are  prepared  on  account  of  special  properties 
apart  from  the  protective  aud  decorative  purposes  for  which 
ordinary  {jaints  are  applied.  Among  such  may  be  mentioned 
Balmain's  luminous  paint,  a  preparation  in  oil  or  water  of  certain 
of  the  phosphorescent  sulphides.  Objects  cojted  with  this  material 
have  the  property  of  continuing  to  emit  light  in  dark  situatioiis 
for  some  time  after  they  have  been  exposed  in  daylight  or  to  high 
artificial  lights  The  luminous  pa\nt  has  been  proposed  for  coating 
buoys,  signals,  public  notice  boards,  clock  and  watch  dials,  .playing 
balls,  match  boxes,  &c. ,  but  it  has  not  come  into  extensive  use. 
Powdered  asbestos  has  been  introduced  as  a  fire-proof  paint  for 
wood  ;  but  all  common  paints  applied  as  distemper  colour  are 
equally  fire-proof  in  the  sense  that  they  themselves  are  incombus- 
tible, and  when  they  coat  wood  thickly  they  offer  great  resistance 
to  an  incipient  fire,  and  even  retard  combustion  under  v^y  high 
heat.  Numerous  an  ti-fouling  compositions  for  the  painting  of  ships' 
sides  and  bottoms  and  anti-corrosive,  inoxidizable,  damp-proof, 
aud  water-proof  paints  have  been  patented,  some  of  which  are  in 
e.xtensive  use.  (J.  PA. ) 

PIKE,  freshwater  fishes  generally  distributed  over  the 
rivers  and  lakes  of  Europe,  northern  Asia,  and  North 
America,  and  forming  a  small  family  )  [Esocidx)  of 
Soft-rayed  Fishes.  ^  They  are  readily  recogtiized  by  their 
elongate  compressed  body  covered  with  small  scales,  a 
long  head,  long  and  spatulate  snout,  and  very  large 
mouth  armed  with  strong  and. long  teeth  in  the  jaws 
and  broad  bands  of  smaller  teeth  on  the  palate  and 
tongue.  The  teeth  ^oint  backwards  or  can  be  depressed 
so  as  to  offer  no  obstruction  to  any  object  entering  the 
gape,  but  prevent  its  withdrawal  in  the  ojjposite  direc- 
tion.   ,  The  dorsal  and  anal  fins  are  placed  far  back  on  the 

\ 


European  Pike  {Esox  lucius). 

tail,' thus  greatly  increasing  the  propelling  power  of  tbo 
fish,  and,  although  pike  are  tad  swimmers  and  lead  rather 
a  sedentary  than  a  roving  life,  they  are  excelled  by  no 
other  freshwater  fish  in  rapidity  of  motion  when,  by  a 
single  stroke  of  the  tail,  they  dash  upon  their  prey  or  dart' 
out  of  reach  of  danger.  In  the  Old  World  one  species' 
only  '  is  known  ■  {Esox.  lucitts),  which  prefers  lakes  and 
sluggish  reaches  of  rivers  to  strong  currents  or  agitated 
waters.  Its  eastward  range  in  northern  Asia  is  not  knowa; 
it  extends  into  Lapland  in  the  north  and  into  central  Ital^ 


P  I  1^  —  P  I  L 


8i) 


and  the  vicinity  of  Constantinoi)le  in  the  soutli,  but  is 
absent  in  the  Iberian  Peninsula.  The  Euroiiean  species 
occurs  also  in  North  America,  and  is  common  in  the  eastern 
United  States  southwards  to  northern  Ohio.  But  North 
America  is  tenanted  by  other  species  of  pike  besides,  of 
which  the  largest  is  the  Muskelunge  er  Maskinonge  of  the 
Great  Lakes  {Esox  nohilior) ;  it  commonly  attains  to  the 
large  size  which  is  exceptionally  recorded  of  Esox  lucius. 
The  other  American  pike  are  of  smaller  size,  and  generally 
named  "  Pickerel  ";  but  opinions  as  to  the  distinction  of 
the  species  differ  widely  among  American  ichthyologists. 
The  European  pike,  like  its  brethren,  is  the  most  voracious 
of  freshwater  fishes ;  it  probably  exceeds  the  shark,  to 
which  it  has  been  compared  by  many  writers,  in  the  rela- 
tive quantity  of  food  it  consumes.  Ponds  would  soon  be 
depopulated  but  for  its  cannibal  propensities,  no  pike 
being  safe  from  another  of  its  own  kind  large  enough  to 
Bwallow  it.  To  the  young  of  water-fowl  pike  are  most 
destructive,  and  large  specimens  will  seize  rats  or  rabbits 
when  they  take  to  the  water,  and  are  said  to  attack  even 
foxes  and  small  dogs.  Individuals  of  from  forty  to  fifty 
pounds  are  not  scarce,  but  captures  of  much  larger  ones 
ftre  on  record.  Pike  are  wholesome  food,  and  much 
esteemed  in  inland  countries, — the  smaller  (of  20  to  24 
inches  in  length)  being  preferred  to  the  larger  individuals. 
They  are  prolific,  and  not  easily  exterminated  in  a  water 
in  which  they  have  been  once  allowed  to  spawn.  Accord- 
ing to  season  and  climate  they  spawn  in  April  or  May, 
and  sometimes  as  early  as  February. 

PIKE-PERCH  (Lucioperca),  freshwater  fishes  closely 
allied  to  the  perch,  but  with  strong  canine  teeth  standing 
between  the  smaller  teeth  of  the  jaws  and  palate.  As 
indicated  by  the  name,  these  fishes  show  some  slight 
resemblance  to  the  pike  in  their  elongate  body  and  head, 
and  like  that  fish  they  are  most  dangerous  enemies  to 
other  freshwater  fishes.  Their  acclimatization  therefore 
in  waters  intended  for  the  culture  of  valuable  food  fishes 
ia  not  advisable,  though  they  compensate  in  some  measure 
for  their  destructiveness  by  the  excellent  flavour  of  their 
flesh.  In  Europe  two  species  occur,  the  more  celebrated 
being  the  "  Zander  "  of  North  Germany  or  "  Schiel  "  of 
the  Danube  (Lucioperca  sandra) ;  strange  to  say,  it  is 
ab.sent  in  the  system  of  the  Rhine.  It  prefers  the  quiet 
waters  of  large  rivers  and  clear  deep  lakes,  in  which  it 
reaches  a  weight  of  twonty-fivo  or  thirty  pounds  ;  it  does 
not  thrive  in  small  and  confined  water.s.  The  second 
European  species  {Lucioperca  ivolgensis)  is  limited  to  rivers 
in  southern  Russia  and  Hungary.  In  North  America 
several  pike-perches  have  been  described,  but  in  the  most 
recent  works  only  two  are  distinguished,  viz.,  Lucioperca 
americana,  which  grows  to  a  weight  of  twenty  pounds,  and 
the  much  smaller  I^ucioperca  canadensis  ;  both  are  abund- 
ant in  the  Canadian  lakes  and  upper  ^Mississippi,  and  the 
latter  also  in  the  Ohio. 

PILATE,'  Pontius,  the  fifth  Roman  procurator  or 
"  governor "  (tTriVpoTros,  rp/ciiiltv)  of  Judaea,  Samaria,  and 
Idumxa,  succeeded  Valerius  Gratus  in  26  a.d.  By  rank 
he  was  a  Roman  eques,  possibly  of  Samnite  extraction  ;  his 
official  appointment  he  owed  to  the  "influence  of  Sejanus. 
His  ordinary  residence  as  procurator  was  at  Cajsarca, 
the  capital,  but  from  time  to  time  he  visited  Jerusalem, 
especially  at  the  greater  feasts,  and  on  these  occasions  he 
bad  his  hema  in  the  magnificent  palace  of  Herod  the 
Great,  hence  called  the  prielorium.  Apart  from  the 
supreme  (to  him,  likely  enough,  most  trivial)  incident  in 

'  I.e.,  J'tlatiif!,  cither  deiived  from  pilum,  niiil.th\is  aiinlognin 
with  tho  surnamo  Torqiiattui,  or  a  contraction  nf  pikatus.  Tlio 
pileuj  w,a3  tho  badgo  of  lu.iminiitted  slaves,  and  if  this  etymoIn;^y 
bo  accepted,  the  name  proiiahly  iadicate.s  tliat  Pilate  was  a  lihrrtus, 
or  tlie  (IcfcendDut  of  a  libcrtus,  of  a  member  of  the  Samuile  gciis  of 
llic  Pontii. 

10— <•■* 


his  life  ("  suffered  under  Pontius  Pilate  ")  the  few  facts 
that  are  known  of  him  indicate  a  somewhat  exceptional 
recklessness  about  awakening  Jewish  fanaticism,  and 
unscrupulousness  as  to  the  means  used  in  quelling  its 
manifestations.  Not  long  after  his  appointment  he  allowed 
his  soldiers  to  carry  their  eagles  and  other  insignia  to 
Jerusalem,  and  did  not  give  way  until  an  exiited  mob  had 
stormed  for  five  whole  days  and  nights  around  his  palace 
at  Cffisarea.  At  a  later  dale,  in  order  to  provide  for  the 
completion  of  his.  aqueduct  for  bringing  water  to  the  city 
from  the  "  Pools  of  Solomon,"  he  appropriated  funds  from 
the  Corban  or  sacred  treasury;  but,  profiting  by  his  former 
experience,  when  this  conduct  was  resented  by  the  popu- 
lace he  caused  some  of  his  soldiers,  disguised  as  Jewish 
citizens  but  armed  with  staves  and  daggers,  to  mingle  in 
the  crowd,  when  many  casual  spectators  as  well  as  rioters 
were  trampled  to  death.  For  having  hung  up  in  Herod's 
palace  certain  gilt  shields  dedicated  to  Tiberius  he  was  in 
vain  remonstrated  with  by  the  Jews,  but  Tiberius,  on 
being  appealed  to,  ordered  their  transference  to  the  templo 
of  Augustus  at  Cassarea.  Of  the  circum.stances  under 
which  he  "  mingled  the  blood  "  of  certain  Galiheans  "  with 
their  sacrifices "  nothing  is  known ;  but  his  cruelty  in 
causing  a  number  of  Samaritans  to  be  attacked  and 
massacred  when  assembled  on  Mount  Gerizim  led  to  a 
complaint  being  lodged  with  Vitellins  the  legate  of  Syria, 
and  ultimately  to  his  being  deprived  of  his  office  early  in  30 
A.D.  According  to  Eusebius  (//.  E.,  ii.  7)  he  was  banished 
to  Vienne  in  Gaul,  where  various  misfortunes  caused  him' 
at  last  to  commit  suicide  ;  the  Chronicle  of  Malalas  alleges, 
with  less  probability,  that  he  was  beheaded  under  Nero. 
Later  legend  (see,  for  example,  the  apocryphal  Mors  Pilali 
mentioned  below)  has  a  good  deal  more  to  say  :  his  suicide 
was  anticipatory  of  Caligula's  sentence ;  the  body  was 
thrown  into  the  Tiber  and  there  caused  disastrous  tempests 
and  floods;  it  afterwards  produced  similar  effects  in  tho 
Rhine  at  Vienne,  and  finally  had  to  be  consigned  to  a 
deep  pool  among  the  Alps.  Local  tradition  points  to  a 
little  tarn  on  Mount  Pilatus  near  Lucerne  ;  if  anything  is 
thrown  into  it  the  water  is  forthwith  strangely  agitated. 
The  devil  takes  the  body  from  the  water  on  Good  Fridaya 
and  sets  it  on  a  throne  where  it  goes  through  the  gesture 
of  washing  its  hands.  The  fact  that  Pilate  allowed  Jesua 
to  be  crucified  is  by  no  means  out  of  keeping  with  what 
we  know  of  his  indifference  to  the  claims  alike  of  justice 
and  of  mercy  ;  that  ho  obviously  wished  to  spare  him  if 
this  could  be  done  without  too  much  inconvenience  to 
himself  has,  however,  gained  him  in  some  quarters  very 
generous  recognition ;  thus  Terfullian  sjjcaks  of  him  as 
"jam  pro  sua  conscientia  Christianum,"  the  Copts 
regard  him  as  a  martyr,  and  the  A^iyssinian  Church  has 
given  him  a  place  in  its  calendar  (June  25).  This  view 
is  reflected  in  the  spurious  Paradosis  I'Uati.  Pilate's  wife, 
known  to  tradition  as  Procla  or  Claudia  Procula,  is  repre- 
sented as  having  been  a  proselyte  of  tho  gate  and  a  secret 
discijjle  of  Jesus.  She  is  commemorated  as  a  saint  in 
the  Greek  Church  (Oct.  27). 

There  is  a  considerable  body  of  apocrynlml  litoraturo  connccteil 
with  tho  name  of  Pilate.  Tho  Acta  VihUi,  wliicli  forms  part  of 
tho  Emngclium  Nicodcmi,  gives  a  copious  account  of  tlio  tiiol  of 
Jesus,  intermingled  with  legendary  JcLails  of  uncertain  nnd  very 
uno(iual  value.  It  exists  in  a  variety  of  tcvts,  but  in  snlistanco  is 
supposed  with  most  probability  to  date  from  about  the  middle  of  tlio 
2nd  century,  and  to  bo  tho  work  of  a  .lewish  Christian,  written  for 
Jews.  Tho  Kpistola  Pilali,  of  which  there  aro  two  dillVrinK  forms, 
contains  what  purports  to  be  I'ilate's  account  to  Tiberius  of  llio 
resurrection  of  Jesus.  The  I'nrnUmis  nhdi  relates  bis  trial,  con- 
demnation, and  execution  at  tho  cmjieror's  command  ;  Pilat« 
appeals  in  prayer  to  Jesus,  and,  along  with  I'rocla  his  wife,  ia 
received  as  a  true  penitent  into  tlio  number  of  tho  faithful.  The 
Mors  Pilali  relates  tlio  circumstances  of  his  suicide,  tho  casting  of 
his  body  into  tho  Tiber,  its  removal  to. Vienne  (explained  as  "Via 
Gehennic"),  and  Iho  linal  disposal  of  it  at   "  Ixisania.','     Foi.al] 


1^0 


P  I  L  —  P  1  L 


tliese  npociyplial  \nitiiigs  see  TLschcnJorrs  Evangelia  Apocryplta 

(18C3). 

PILCHARD  (Clupea  pilchardus),  a  fch  of-  the  herring 
family  (Clupeida;),  abundant  in  the  Mediterranean  and  on 
the  Atlantic  coasts  of  Europe,  northwards  to  the  British 
Channel.  Sardine  is  another  name  for  the  same  fish, 
which  on  the  coast  of  Britanny  and  Normandy  is  also  called 
Celan  or  Celeren.  It  is  readily  distinguished  from  tlve 
other  European  species  of  Clupea  or  herrings.  The  oper- 
eulum  is  sculptured  with  ridges  radiating  and  descending 
towards  the  suboperculum ;  the  scales  are  large,  about 
thirty  along  the  lateral  line,  deciduous  ;  the  ventral  fins  are 
inserted  below,  or  nearly  below,  the  middle  of  the  base  of 
the  dorsal  fin ;  the  dorsal  fin  has  seventeen  or  eighteen, 
the  anal  from  nu)eteen  to  twenty-one  rays.  A  smalr 
blackish  spot  in  the  acapulary  region  is  very  constant,  and 
sometimes  succeeded  by  other  similar  marks.  There 
are  no  teeth  on  the  palate;  pyloric  appendages  exist  in 
great  numbers ;  the  vertebrae  number  fifty-three.  The 
pilchard  is  one  of  the  most  important  fishes  of  the 
English  Channel  (see  article  Fisheries,  vol.  ix.  p.  253 
sq.).  It  spawns  at  a  distance  from  the  shore,  and,  ac- 
cording to  Couch,  the  spawn  has  been  seen  to  extend 
sevMal  miles  in  length,  and  a  mile  or  more  in  breadth 
floating  on  the  surface  of  the  sea,  of  the  thickness  of 
brown  paper,  and  so  tough  as  not  to  be  readily  torn  in 
pieces.  The  spawning  takes  place  at  two  periods  of  the 
year,  viz.,  in  April  or  May,  and  again  in  the  early  part  of 
autumn ;  but  it  is  not  probable  that  the  same  individuals 
or  shoals  spawn  twice  in  the  same  year.  When  commenc- 
ing their  migrations  towards  the  land,  the  shoals  consist  of 
countless  numbers,  but  they  break  up  into  smaller  com- 
panies in  close  vicinity  to  the  shore.  Pilchards  feed  on 
minute  crustaceans  and  other  animalcules,  and  require 
two  or  three  years  before  they  attain  their  full  size,  which 
is  about  10  inches  in  lengtla.  On  the  Pacific  coasts  of 
^America,  in  New  Zealand,  and  in  Japan  a  pilchard  occurs 
(Clupea  sagax)  which  in  its  characters  and  habits  is  so 
similar  to  the  European  pilchard  that  its  general  utiliza- 
tion is  deserving  of  attention,  and  there  is  every  reason  to 
believe  that  New  Zealand  could  produce  its  own  sardines 
and  fumadoes.  Immense  shoals  are  reported  to  visit  the 
past  coast  of  Otago  every  year  in  February  and  March. 

PILES.     See  H.imorbhoids. 

PILGRIMAGE.  The  -word  Pilgrimage  (derived  from 
the  Latin  pereger,  i.e.,  per-ager,  "one  who  traverses  a 
region,"  through  the  intermediate  forms  peregrimts, 
pellegriiw,  pelegriTi)  denotes  the  act  of  journeying  to  some 
place  esteemed  sacred,  for  the  purpose  of  discharging  a 
religious  obligation,  or  to  obtain  some  supernatural  assist- 
ance or  benefit.  The  practice  is  common  to  many  re- 
ligions, and  mounts  back  to  prehistoric  ages.  It  is  ulti- 
mately traceable  to  the  nature  of  tribal  religion,  in  its  early 
form  of  worship  of  a  deity  regarded  as  purely  local  in  the 
sphere  of  his  special  influence.  As  community  in  religious 
acts  was  one  of  the  principal  ties  between  members  of  the 
same  tribe,  to  the  exclusion  of  outsiders,  it  would  naturally 
become  the  rule,  and  then  the  duty,  of  the  tribesmen  to  pre- 
sent themselves  at  recurrent  intervals  at  the  sanctuary  of 
their  tribal  god.  As  they  scattered  away  from  their  own 
settlement,  and  became  travellers  or  sojourners  amongst 
aliens,  the  belief  that  they  were  in  some  sense  cut  off  from 
the  protection  of  their  tribal  deity,  and  subjected  to  the 
influence  of  others  in  whose  worship  they  had  no  share, 
would  induoT  visits  from  a  distance  to  the  seat  of  their  own 
religion,  not  merely  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  up  their 
tribal  relations,  but  to  propitiate  a  power  which  perhaps 
could  not  hear  supplications  addressed  from  a  distance,  and 
would  in  any  case  be  more  ready  to  hear  and  answer  prayers 
jnide  in  his  own  special  shrine,  attended  with  the  appro- 


priate rites  performed  by  his  own  body  of  ministers.  This 
latter  consideration  would  operate  even  in  the  case  of  cults 
directed  to  the  Sun-God,  the  Moon-Goddess,  and  the  planeti- 
ary  bodies,  which  could  hardly  be  regarded  as  localized  withia 
earthly  boundaries,  but  might  well  be  supposed  more  placable 
in  shrines  of  exceptional  splendour  and  sanctity,  officered 
by  a  trained  and  numerous  priesthood.  And  wherever  it 
Was  believed  that  the  'deity  not  merely  responded  to  prayer, 
but  gave  direct  answers  by  omen  or  by  oracle  to  inquirers, 
the  frequentation  of  the  prophetic  seat  would  naturally 
increase.  Further,  as  the  political  strength  of  any  tribe 
grew,  that  would  be  attributed  in  a  multitude  of  cases  to 
the  superior  power  of  its  tutelary  god,  or,  where  they 
worshipped  the  same  deity  as  their  neighbours,  to  some 
more  acceptable  mode  of  paying  that  worship,  whence  the 
custom  would  grow  of  making  the  principal  temple  of  the 
most  powerful  tribe  the  meeting-place  of  the  confederacy, 
as  well  for  political  deliberation  as  for  the  more  directly 
religious  purpose  of  reaffirming  the  common  pact  with 
sacrificial  ceremonies.  And  if  the  strongest  tribe  passed 
from  the  stage  of  Tiegemony  to  that  of  sovereignty,  whether 
by  cession  or  by  conquest,  so  becoming  the  nucleus  of  a 
nation  or  kingdom,  the  same  feelings  would  operate  yet 
more  powerfully, — the  subject  tribes  being  either  compelled 
to  accept  the  gods  of  their  conquerors,  or  voluntarily 
adopting  them  from  a  conviction  of  their  superior  might. 
Certain  temples  would  in  this  wise  become  national  from 
having  been  tribal,  and  in  large  empires,  such  as  Egypt 
and  Assyria,  would  collect  worshippers  from  all  the  various 
peoples  ruled  under  a  common  sceptre.  The  second  stage 
in  the  genesis  of  special  sanctuaries  is  peculiar  to  religions 
with  a  real  or  supposed  historical  basis,  and  takes  the  form 
of  devotion  towards  localities  which  have  been  the  scenes 
of  important  events  in  the  lives  of  personages  reverenced 
in  the  creeds  of  those  religions.  And  the  third  stage,  be- 
longing to  a  much  later  period  than  either  of  the  former, 
when  self-consciousness  had  become  more  developed,  is  that 
where  the  aim  of  the  pilgrims  is  primarily  subjective,  to  stir 
up  certain  emotions  in  their  own  minds,  through  the  means 
of  the  associations  connected  with  special  localities.  But 
in  each  and  all  of  these  the  fundamental  underlying  thought 
is  the  same,  the  localization  of  deity,  the  almost  insuperable 
difficulty  which  the  ideas  of  omniscience  and  omnipresence 
offer  to  undeveloped  intellects. 

It  will  be  convenient,  in  tracing  the  history  of  pilgrim- 
ages, to  begin  with  those  which  belong  to  the  various  forms 
of  heathenism,  ancient  and  modern,  as  pertaining,  whatever 
be  their  actual  date,  to  an  earlier  stage  of  mental  evolutioa 
than  the  Jewish,  Christian,  and  Mohammedan  ones. 

The  first  pilgrimages,  then,  of  which  we  have  any  trust-  Egypt 
worthy  knowledge,  are  those  of  ancient  Egypt.  The 
mythology  of  the  Egyptians  is  even  yet  but  imperfectly 
understood,  but  it  is  at  any  rate  clear  that,  just  as  the 
votaries  of  Vishnu  and  of  Siva  keep  apart  in  modern 
Hindustan,  so  the  chief  deities  of  the  Egyptian  pantheon 
had  cults  which  were  as  often  rival  as  complementary,  and 
that  the  emulation  of  the  competing  temples  took  the  form 
of  bidding  against  each  other  for  popular  favour  by  the 
splendour  of  their  chief  yearly  festivals.  We  are  obliged 
to  have  recourse  to  Herodotus  and  Plutarch  for  informa- 
tion as  to  the  general  cycle  of  feasts  nationally  observed; 
for,  although  local  calendars  and  rubrics  of  festivals  have 
been  discovered  in  several  places,  nothing  cognate  with 
Ovid's  Fasti  has  yet  been  found  in  Egypt.  Herodotus  notices 
that,  instead  of  having  but  one  yearly  national  festival 
(wai'Tjyiipi?),  the  Egyptians  had  six,  the  principal  of  which 
was  that  of  Artemis  {i.e.,  Bast  or  Sekhet)  at  Bubastis,  to 
which  the  pilgrims  went  in  boats  crowded  with  both  sexes, 
playing  on  castanets  and  flutes,  and  singing  to  this 
alccompaniment.     They  landed  at  every  town  along  the 


P  i  L  G   Li  1  M  A  G  E 


91 


river  to  perform  orgic  dances,  and  at  Bubastis  itself  offered 
gi^at  sacrifices,  besides  feasting  copiously,  in  particular 
consuming  vast  quantities  of  grape-wine.  He  states  the 
tiumbers  assembling  on  ttiis  occasion,  exclusive  of  children, 
to  average  700,000.  Next  to  this  ranked  the  festival  of 
Isis  at  Busiris,  attended  with  ceremonies  of  mourning, 
most  probably  in  memory  of  the  sufferings  of  Osiris. 
Third  in  order  was  the  feast  of  Athene  (Neith)  at  Sais, 
celebrated  at  night,  with  illuminations.  Fourth  was  the 
festival  of  the  Sun  (Ra)  at  On  or  Heliopolis ;  fifth  that 
at  Buto  in  honour  of  Latona  (Buto  or  Uat).  These  two 
were  attended  with  simply  sacrificial  rites,  and  there  were 
no  symbolical  ceremonies  jn  addition.  Last  came  the 
festival  of  Ares  (Har-tash,  the  Hertosi  of  Cedrenus)  at 
Papremis,  at  which  there  was  a  rough  tussle,  symbolizing 
war,  between  the  temple-attendants  and  the  pilgrims,  in 
which  lives  were  sometimes  lost.  There  was  another  high 
festival,  that  of  Apis  at  Memphis,  not  included  by 
Herodotus  in  his  list,  perhaps  because  not  of  yearly  recur- 
rence, besides  the  much  frequented- oracle  of  Ammon  at 
Thebte,  whither  it  had  been  transferred  from  Meroe,  its 
first  seat  in  Egypt.  And  it  is  noticeable  that  there  was 
no  pilgrimage  at  all  to  the '  most  sacred  spot  in  Egypt,  the 
island  of  PhiL-e,  the  burial-place  of  Osiris,  because  its  very 
sanctity  made  it  "tabu"  to  lay  folk.  The  mysteries,  in  like 
manner,  being  rigidly  confined  to  a  few,  did  not  form  an 
occasion  of  pilgrimage. 

As  regards  the  great  Mesopotamian  empires,  our  know- 
ledge does  not  yet  enable  us  to  say  that  pilgrimages 
entered  into  their  religious  system,  though  we  may  net 
unreasonably  infer  so  from  the  size  and  wealth  of  several 
temples,  notably  those  of  Ishtar,  from  the  Assyrian  custom 
of  imposing  their  own  deities  upon  conquered  nations,  and 
from  the  example  of  one  great  religious  assembly  from  all 
the  provinces  of  the  Babylonian  empire,  recorded  in  Daniel 
iii.  There  may,  perhaps,  be  indirect  proof  of  Babylonian 
pilgrimages  in  what  Cyrus  states  in  his  cylinder-inscription, 
namely,  that  Nabonidus  had  qilendod  the  gods  by  trans- 
porting their  images  to  Babylon,  and  thus,  as  it  were, 
making  them  perform  pilgrimage. 

^The  ancient  Zend  creed  of  the  Medes  and  Persians, 
liaving  no  tenqjles  for  worship,  had  no  pilgrimages;  but 
in  its  later  Jlithraic  form,  the  initiation  of  neophytes  by 
the  Magians  into  the  mysteries,  through  a  painful  course 
of  purgation  (curiously  resembling  one  prevalent  in  Ireland 
far  within  the  present  century),  in  a  cavern  or  grotto  at 
']5abylon,  necessitated  a  pilgrimage  thither  on  the  part  of 
those  who  desired  to  become  experts ;  and  Lucian  has  left 
some  account  of  its  rules  in  his  j\/e>iippus.^ 

Amongst  the  Phccnicians  there  are  clear  traces  of  at 
least  two  groat  pilgrimages  in  honour  of  Ashtorcth,  one  to 
Aphaca  (probably  the  Aphek  of  Scripture),  celebrated  for 
a  yearly  miracle  of  a  ball  of  fire  appearing  on  the  mountain 
summit,  'and  thence  fallirtg  into  the  sea.  The  obscene 
rites  for  which  this  temple  was  infamous  led  to  its  destruc- 
tion by  Constantino  the  Great  (Euseb.,  Vil.  Const.,  iii.  50). 
The  other  great  Ashtorcth  pilgrimage  was  to  Hierapolis  in 
Syria,  frequented  by  votaries  from  all  the  Semitic  races 
except  the  Jews.  Antioch  was  also  a  great  centre  of  this 
cult,  as  also  of  that  of  Thammuz,  but,  strictly  speaking, 
there  is  no  proof  of  a  Tlianmiuz  pilgrimage,  nor  of  one  in 
honour  of  Mclkarth,  though  his  worship  was  carried  from 
Tyre,  its  chief  seat,  into  all  the  Phoenician  colonics,  and 
the  famous  oracle  of  his  temple  at  Gades  drew  crowds  of 
inquirers  annually.  In  Palestine  proper,  though  the  cults 
of  Baal,  Ashtorcth,  lloloch,  Dagon,  and  Beelzebub  were 
widespread  ami  jtcrsistcnt,  and  though  the  name  .Tciiclio 

'  Tliit  tn  pmbniily  llio  KOtnve  of  the  llo^lciii  li-^uiul  of  Il.irflt  .mil 
Miivftt,  the  fallen  angels  cir.iiiiej  in  a  cavnn  at  U.iliyhvn,  wlio  will 
tt-acU  magic  to  such  as  consult  them  iu  a  iireacribed  manner.' 


probably,  and 'Ashtaroth-Kamaim  certainly,  point  to  a 
seat  of  moon-worship,  as  Bethshemesh  does  to"  one  of  sun- 
worship,  there  is  no  direct  evidence  of  organized  pilgrim- 
ages to  these  places. 

In  ancient  Hellais  there  were  four  classes  of  religious 
observance  more  or  less  cognate  with  pilgrimage,  though 
not  in  any  case  identical  therewith.  First  may  be  placed 
the  consultation  of  oracles, — those  of  Apollo  at  Delphi,  of 
Zeus  at  Dodona,'  of  Trophonius  at  Lejjadeia,- and.  of 
Asclepius  at  Epidaurus  (the  last  of  which  was  resorted  to 
also  for  the  cure  of  disease)  being  the  most  famous  and 
most  frequented,  while,  outside  Greece  and  its  colonies,  the 
oracle  of  the  Libyan  Ammon  in  the  desert  south  of  Cyrene 
was  also  in  much  esteem.  Next  comei  the  foiir'  great 
national  festivals  and  games,  the  Olympic,  Pythian, 
Nemean,  and  Isthmian,  attended  by  crowds  from  all  Greek 
states,  not  only,  as  attractive  shows,  but  as  religious 
ceremonies.2  Thirdly  may  be  named  the  more  local  or 
tribal  festivals,  such  as  the  PanathenKa,  the  feast  of  the 
Charites  at  Orchomenus, '  that  of  Hera  at  Samos, '  of 
Aphrodite  at  Paphos,  and  of  Artemis  at  Ephesus,  which 
drew  together  many  worshippers  besides  those  who  were 
specially  bound  to  visit  the  shrines  in  question.  But  the 
closest  parallel  to  the  Christian  theory  of  pilgrimage  is 
found  in  the  celebration  of  the  Eleusinian  mysteries  (seo 
Mysteries),  the  special  likeness  of  which  to  pilgrimages 
of  a  later  day  lies  in  the  notion  of  merit  and  spiritual 
benefit  attached  to  initiation,  to  the  belief  that  happiness! 
in  a  future  state  of  existence  would  be  promoted,  nayj 
insured,  by  admission  to  the  ranks  of  the  mystas. 

The  Latin  customs  bear  a  certain  superficial  likeness  to 
the  Greek,  in  that  local  oracles,  such  as  those  of  Faunus,' 
of  Albunea,  of  Fortuna,  and  of  the  Sibyls,  were  mucli:' 
frequented ;  there  are  traces  of  great  trilial  sanctuaries' 
and  gatherings,  such  as  the  worship  of  Jupiter  Latiaris  on 
the  Alban  Mount,  of  more  narrowly  restricted  tribal  cults, 
such  as  the  Julian  worehip  of  Vejovis  at  Bovillae  and  the 
Fabian  sacrifice  to  Hercules  on  the  Quirinal,  and  of  at 
least  two  temples  to  which  regular  pilgrimages  seem 'to 
have  boon  made — those  of  Juno  Sospita  at  Lanuvium,  and 
of  Vesta  (perhaps  of  all  the  Penates  also)  at  Laviniuiu. 
But,  apart  from  racial  and  theosopliic  dilFcrences  of  belief,] 
there  was  one  factor  at  work  in  Italy  which  tended  to 
bring  about  a  wholly  different  character  of  popular  religion! 
from  that  which  was  evolved  in  Hellas — the  overmastering 
centralization  of  Rome,  and  the  practical  identification  of 
all  solemn  worship  (apart  from  the  rustic  ceremonies  in 
honour  of  minor  and  little  known  deities)  with  the  apothe- 
osis of  the  Republic.  Hence,  after  the  chief  seat  of  lioniuii 
worship  was  transferred  from  the  Regia  to  the  Cnpitol, 
pilgrimage  proper  disappeared,  for  the  local  gods  of  eacli 
newly  absorbed  city  or  state  were  added  to  the  originul 
triad  of  Roman  gotls,  and  to  the  other  Sabine  triad,  moved 
from  the  Quirinal  to  the  new  sanctuary,  and  it  becomes 
impossible  to  distinguish  clearly  between  the  purely  poli- 
tical ceremonies  performed  in  honour  of  gods  viewed 
primarily  as  the  tutelars  of  Rome  and  voluntary  resort  to 
the  great  temple  for  the  personal  cult  of  any  particular 
deity  enshrined  there.  One  relic  of  the  older  custom 
seems  to  have  survived  till  later  times,  namely,  the 
pilgrimage  of  Roman  wopicn  barefoot  to  the  temple  of 
Vesta  in  the  Forum  on  Juno  9  every  year. 

No  ])ilgrimage8  seem  to  have  been  usual  in  tlic  Teutonic 
and  Slavonic  rcligioi^s,  though  both  had  special  temples 
regarded  as  more  sacred  than  the  rcmnindcr,  and  in  the, 
case  of  the  latter  wo  know  with  tolerable  accuracy  tha* 
Kictr,  Novgorod,  Rctlira  in  Mecklenburg,  Karcnz,  WinncUv 

'  Tin;  raiiliL'IUiiii:  ro>lival  at  jEsiir.a  ia  oniiltcil,  aa  a  nicre  factilion-f 
dovicu  of  the  cmpcrur  Il.iilrian,  wlica  claisicol  pagAnism  wtri  .d]3»(i 
and  uol  a  veal  Grccic  custom. 


92 


PILGRIMAGE 


and  Juliii  (isle  of  Wollin),  Stettin,  and  lastly  Arkona  in 
the  isle  of  Riigen,  succeeded  one  another  as  the  chief  seat 
of  the  worship  of  Perun,  Lada,  Bielbog,  and  other  principal 
Slavic  deities,  and  were  necessarily  attended  by  much 
larger  bodies  of  worshippers  than  temples  of  less  account, 
more  thinly  officered,  and  inferior  in  repute  for  the  learning 
and  prophetic  powers  of  their  priests. 

Directing  our  attention  to  an  entirely  different  region 
of  the  world,  we  learn  that  in  1519,  when  Cortes  entered 
Cholula  in  Mexico,  he  found  it  a  great  resort  of  pilgrims 
to  the  huge  temple  of  Quetzalcoatl,  then  of  unknown 
antiquity,  as  founded  by  a  race  earlier  than  the  Aztecs, 
and  built  upon  a  colossal  mound,  vying  in  dimensions 
with  the  largest  pyramids  of  Egypt.  And  what  is  yet 
more  curious,  besides  this  principal  shrine,  there  were 
subsidiary  tribal  temples  in  the  city,  restricted  to  the  uses 
of  the  several  allied  or  kindred  nations,  who  desired  to 
have  their  own  sanctuary  in  the  holy  city,  precisely  as 
churches  of  different  nationalities  are  found  in  Jerusalem 
and  in  Edme  to-day.  Ajid  similarly  in  Peru,  the  great 
Temple  of  the  Sun  at  Cuzco,  with  its  encircling  girdle  of 
chapels  dedicated  to  minor  deities,  was  visited  by  pilgrims 
from  all  parts  of  the  empire ;  flay,  it  was  even  regarded  as 
a  misfortune  to  fail  in  accomplishing  the  journey. 

India,  however,  is  above  all  others  the  land  of  pilgrim; 
ages,  for  it  has  observed  them  during  a  longer  unbroken 
period  than  any  other  country  of  which  we  possess  sufficient 
records,  and  for  frequency  and  multitude  it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  any  parallel.  The  most  celebrated  of  them 
are  those  to  the  temple  of  Jagan-nath  at  Puri  in  Orissa, 
Benares,  Hurdwar,  Ganga-Sagara,  Gangotri,  Jumnotri, 
Prayaga  (Allahabad),  Rameswara,  Gaya  in  Behar,  and 
Ayodhya  or  Oudb.  Apart  from  the  motives,  common  to 
all  pilgrims,  of  acquiring  religious  merit  or  expiating  sins, 
these  Indian  shrines  are  frequented  for  the  performance  of 
sraddha  ceremonies  in  honour  of  deceased  ancestors  or  as 
votive  acts  for  the  recovery  of  the  sick,  or,  again,  to  carry 
the  ashes  of  deceased  kindred  to  be  scattered  in  the  waters 
of  some  sacred  or  purifying  river.  Every  great  river  in 
India,  with  some  lakes,  tanks,  and  springs,  is  regarded 
as  permeated  with  the  divine  essence,  and  as  capable  of 
cleansing  from  all  sin.  Hence  the  favourite  resorts  are 
river  sources  and  confluences,  while  Benares,  as  situated 
on  the  Ganges  itself,  is  the  holiest  spot  in  Hindustan. 
|The  other  most  frequented  shrines  are  usually  associated 
iwith  the  cults  of  Krishna,  Siva,  and  Rama.  All  these 
are  exclusively  connected  with  Brahman  rites,  for  the 
entire  extirpation  of  Buddhism  from  the  Hindu  peninsula 
'has  prevented  any  special  sacredness  from  continuing  to 
attach  to  the  scenes  of  Gautama  Buddha's  life  (though 
the  Buddhists  allege  that  the  sanctity  of  Benares  is  due  to 
its  having  been  the  residence  of  Buddha  himself  and  the 
scene  of  his  earliest  preachings);  and  it  is  in  Ceylon  only 
that  two  Indo-Buddhist  pilgrimages  survive, — that  of 
Adam's  Peak,  and  the  yet  more  popular  one  to  the  temple 
of  Kandy,  where  the  Dalada  Malagawa,  or  tooth  of 
Buddha,  is  an  object  of  special  veneration.  For  northern 
Buddhism  the  chief  shrines  are  Lhassa  in  Tibet,  the  seat 
of  the  Dalai  Lama,  and  Urga  in  northern  Mongolia,  the 
Beat  of  the  Tesho-Lama  or  BogdoLama.  Before  the 
Brahman  revolution,  which  drove  Buddhism  out  of  India, 
pilgrimages  to  the  chief  scenes  of  Gautama  Buddha's  life 
iwere  common;  and  notably  Kapilavastu,  his  birthplace, 
Benares,  where  he  began  his  mission,  and  Kasinagara, 
where  he  died,  were  much  frequented,  especially  by 
Chinese  converts.  The  narratives  of  .some  of  these.  Fa 
(Hian,  Hwai-Seng,  and  Sung-yun,  and  Hwen-T'sang,  the 
toost  noteworthy  of  them  all  (see  vol.  xii.  p.  418),  who 
,came  to  visit  the  holy  places  and  to  collect  the  sacred 
books,  are  still  extant. 


In  China  pilgrimages  are  made  to  several  of  the  more 
sacred  spots  both  by  Buddhists  and  Conf  ucianists.  .Vutai- 
shan  in  Shausi  is  the  chief  resort  of  Buddhist  pilgrims, 
and  Tai-shan,  the  mountain  sacred  to  Confucius,  that  of 
Confucianists  (Williamson,  Journeys  in  North  China).  In 
Japan  both  the  older  Shinto  nature-worship  and  the  newer 
Buddhist  creed  have  their  several  sanctuaries  and  pilgrim- 
ages. The  principal  Shinto  pilgrimages  are  those  to  Is6 
in  the  department  of  Watarai,  and  to  the  sacred  mountaia 
Fuji.  There  are  two  temples  at  Is(5,  ranking  in  sanctity 
first  of  all  Shint6  shrines,  and  the  special  seat  of  tho 
worship  of  Ten-shoko-daigin,  the  Sun-Goddess,  from  whom' 
the  Mikado  is  held  to  descend.  Two  great  festivals  are 
held  yearly  at  Is6,  in  the  sixth  and  twelfth .  months,  and 
are  known  as  0-barai  no  matsuri,  "  great  purification 
feast,"  being  held  to  effect  the  purifying  of  the  whole 
nation  from  the  sins  of  the  previous  half  year.  Ticketa 
inscribed  with  the  names  of  the  gods  of  Is^,  and  especially 
that  of  the  Sun-Goddess,  are  issued  at  the  temples  and 
their  agencies  (teing  formerly  sold  by  hawkers  correspond- 
ing to  the  pardoners  of  mediaeval  Europe),  and  are  care- 
fully preserved  in  the  domestic  shrine  of  Japanese  houses; 
being'. supposed  to  avert  all  peril  for  six  months,  but 
requiring  renewal  at  the  end  of  that  period.  The  pilgrims 
to  Is6 'number  many  thousands  yearly,  and  are  known  as 
they  return  by  bundles  of  charms  wrapped  in  oiled  paper; 
and  hanging  from  the  neck  by  a  stripg.  The  pilgrimage 
to  Fuji  tajies  place  in  summer,  and  the  pilgrims  go  clad 
in  white,  and  carrying  bells.  They  ascend  the  mountain 
so  as  to  reach  the  summit  before  sunrise,  when  they, 
turn  to  the  east,  clap  their  hands,  and  chant  a  hymn 
to  the  Sun-Goddess.  There  are  also  many  local  Shintft 
pilgrimages  of  less  note.  Buddhism  in  Japan  is  broken  up 
into  several  sects,  having  each  of  them  their  own  pil- 
grimages ;  but  the  most  frequented  are  those  of  the  god 
Fudo  at  Narita  and  the  sacred  mountain  of  Oyama,  each 
some  30  miles  distant  from  Tokio.  These  both  belong  to 
the  Shingou  sect,  the  earliest  introduced  into  Japan.  The 
Hokke  or  Nichiren  sect  make  pilgrimages  to  the  monastery 
of  Ikegami  near  Tokio,  and  to  that  at  Mount  Minobu,  about 
100  miles  to  the  west,  betvi-een  which  two  shrines  the  relics 
of  the  founder  are  divided.  Ninety  miles  north  of  Tokio, 
are  the  shrines  of  Mount  Nikko,  also  a  great  Buddhist  pil-' 
grimage,  where  the  shoguns  are  buried,  and  where  the; 
founder  of  the  Tokugawa  dynasty  is  worshipped  under  the 
tame  of  Gongen. 

So  much  will  suffice  to  have  said  concerning  the  various 
heathen  pilgrimages,  and  we  may  now  consider  those  of  the 
Hebrew  religion  and  its  two  derivatives,  Islam  and 
Christianity. 

The  legislation-  of  the  Pentateuch  is  precise  in  making 
resort  to  one  central  shrine  a  positive  and  fundamental  pre-^ 
cept,  binding  on  the  whole  nation,  obviously  with  the  double 
object  of  cementing  national  unity  and  of  guarding  against 
the'  erection  of  local  sanctuaries,  which  were  liable  to  be 
diverted  to  idolatrous  cults  (see  Pentateuch).  Under 
the  judges  and  the  kings  we  find  many  traces  of  pilgrim- 
age, not  only  to  the  sanctuary  of  the  ark  at  Shiloh,  and 
afterwards  to  Jerusalem,  but  to  local  high  places,  such  as 
Ophrah,  Mizpeh,  Dan,  Bethel,  and  Beersheba.  In  truth, 
it  is  not  till  the  post-exilic  period  that  the  supremacy  of 
one  national  sanctuary  is  assured  (though  a  pilgrimage 
even  after  the  destruction  of  the  temple  is  recorded  in 
Jeremiah  xli.  5,  showing  that  the  mere  site  was  held 
sacred),  for  the  local  devotion  of  ,the  high  places  resisted 
all  the  efforts  of  the  reforming  party  under  Hezekiah  and 
Josiah  even  in  the  kingdom  of  Judah  itself.  Since  the- 
final  overthrow  of  the  Jewish  polity  by  Titus  and  Hadrian,' 
no  effort  has  been  made  either  to  establish  a  centre  of 
sacrificial  worship  anywhere  outside  Palestine  (as  in  the 


PILGRIMAGE 


93 


rarious'episode  of  the  temple  of  Heliopolis  in  Egypt),  or 
to  revive  it  in  Jerusalem  itself,  where,  even  now,  the  syna- 
gogues and  colleges  of  the  Sophardim  and  Ashkcnazim 
are  entirely  separate  and  independent  organizations,  and 
Show  no  tendency  to  coalesce  into  the  nucleus  of  a  national 
system.'  Hence,  as  the  political  and  religious  motives  for 
the  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem  have  both  dropped  into  abey- 
ance, the'  custom  itself  is  no  longer  regarded  as  binding, 
and,  though  it  is  not  obsolete,  inasmuch  as  a  visit  to  the 
Holy  City  is  considered  a  meritorious  act,  yet  it  has  now, 
like  the  pilgrimage  to  Hebron,  more  of  an  emotional  and 
historical  character  than  a  ceremonial  one,  so  that  it  is 
not  in  the  strict  sense  a  pilgrimage  any  longer. 

Although  the  Mohammedan  pilgrimages  are  much  later 
in  chronological  order  than  the  Christian  ones,  it  will  be 
more  convenient  to  consider  them  briefly  first.  They  con- 
sist, then,  of  two  main  classes,  which  may  be  distinguished 
conveniently  by  Latin  theological  terms,  as  those  of 
"obligation"  and  those  of  "devotion."  There  is  properly 
only  one  Moslem  pilgrimage  of  obligation,  that  to  Mecca, 
•which  still  often  draws  an  annual  contingent  of  from 
70,000  to  80,000  pilgrims  (see  Mecca).  It  is  in  truth  a 
pagan  survival  which  proved  too  powerful  for  extirpation 
by  Mohammed.  The  Kaaba  had  been  constituted  the 
national  sanctuary  of  Arabia  about  100  B.C.,  and  contained, 
besides  the  famous  Black  Stone,  some  three  hundred  and 
sixty  idols  of  various  Bedouin  tribes,  united  in  one  pan- 
theon, exactly  as  with  the  Capitol  of  Rome ;  and,  though 
it  was  possible  to  sweep,  the  idols  out  of  the  Kaaba,  it 
was  not  so  easy  to  deconsecrate  the  spot,  but  far  more 
convenient  to  give  it  a  new  sanction. 

The  Mohammedan  pilgrimages  of  devotion  are  very 
numerous,  and  are  chiefly  connected  with  the  saint-worahip 
■which  has  overlaid  and  obscured  the  original  strict  mono- 
theism of  Islam.  Chief  amongst  the  sacred  shrines  of 
,his  second  class  stands  the  tomb  of  Mohammed  at 
Medina  (5'.  v.),  but,  holy  as  it  is  considered,  and  meri- 
torious as  a  visit  to  it  is  accounted,  it  is  in  no  sense  bind- 
ing on  a  Moslem's  conscience,  and  only  about  one-third  of 
the  Meccan  pilgrims  proceed  thither  Other  sanctuaries 
abound  in  all  Mohammedan  countries,  of  which  a  few, 
like  Abraham's  tomb  at  Hebron,  are  honoured  by  all 
Mohammedan  sects,  while  others  are  peculiar  to  the  Sun- 
nites  and  Shiites  respectively,  and  others  again,  such  as 
iKairwan  in  Tunis,  and  Wazan  in  Morocco,  and  still  more 
the  tombs  and  oratories  of  merely  local  saints  or  tvelis, 
found  in  almost  every  Moslem  town  or  village,  are  restricted 
to  a  comparatively  small  body  of  votaries.  The  most 
famous,  after  the  Pan-Islamic  pilgrimages,  are  the  great 
Shiito  sanctuaries,  of  which  there  are  three  :^Me.shed  in 
KhorAsAn,  with  the  tomb  and  mosque  of  Imam  Riza,  said 
to  attract  almost  as  many  yearly  pilgrims  as  Mecca  itself; 
Khoum  in  Irak  Ajemi,  where  Fatima,  wife  of  Imam  Riza, 
is  buried ;  and,  yet  more  sacred  than  either,  Kerbela  in 
Mesopotamia,  in  the  Turkish  dominions,  about  28  miles 
north-west  of  the  ruins  of  Babylon,  where  is  the  tomb  and 
mosque  of  Imam  Hosein,  grandson  of  Mohammad  (see 
Kerbela  and  MonAMirEDANisM).  There  is  a  passion-play 
performed  there  at  the  yearly  commemoration,  which" 
"draws  enormous  crowds  from  all  parts  of  Persia  and  other' 
Shiite  regions,  and  the  title  hajj  attaches  to  all  who 
make  the  journey.  Some  idea  of  the  multiplicity  of  minor^ 
pilgrimages  amongst  Moslems  mdf-  be  gathered  from  the 
fact  that"  in  the  pity  of  Damascus  alone  there  are  one 
hundred  and  ninety-four  places  of  resort  by  pilgrims,  and 
fourteen  more  in  the  environs.  A  great  reaction  against 
the  whole  system,  inclusive  of  the  invocation  of  saints, 
took  place  under  the  Wahhabis  in  the  last  century,  in  the 
course  of  which  countless  weiis  or  tombs  of  Moslem  saints 
wore    destroyed,  including    even   those   of  'Hosein  and 


Mohammed  himself ;  but,  on  the  overthrow  of  the  fanatics 
by  Mohammed  Ali,  the  customary  practices  were  restored, 
and  have  continued  in  full  vigour  ever  since. 

Christian  pilgrimages  were  at  first  limited  to  Jerusalem 
and  its  immediate  neighbourhood,  including  Bethlehem) 
It  is  probable  enough  that  the  local  church  of  Jerusalemi 
regarded  the  various  scenes  of  the  gospel  history,  and! 
notably  of  the  Passion  and  Resurrection,  -with  special 
reverence,  and  would  guide  the  steps  of .  visitors  to  thei 
most  sacred  localities  while  the  city  yet  stood,  and  point 
out  the  sites,  as  nearly  as  possible,  after  the  work  of  Titus 
had  been  completed  by  Hadrian,  and  a  vast  mound  of 
earth,  on  whose  summit  rose  a  temple  of  Venus,  had  been 
raised  over  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  But  this  is  matter  of 
conjecture  rather  than  of  knowledge.  There  is  no  actual 
proof  of  very  early  Christian  pilgrimage  to  the  hoiy 
places,  though  the  belief  was  already  current  at  the  close 
of  the  4th  century  that  the  ciistom  had  prevailed 
unbroken  from  apostolic  times,  as  is  distinctly  asserted' 
by  Paula,  and  Eustochium  in  their  letter  to  Marcelja! 
(Epist.  Hieronym.,  xvii.),  written  in  386,  wherein  they 
state  also  that  of  which  they  are  more  trustworthy 
witnesses,  that  pilgrims  then  flocked  from  Armenia,  Persia, 
India,  Ethiopia,  and  even  Gaul  and  Britain,  to  visit  the 
cradle  of  Christianity.  But  in  point  of  fact  the  earliest 
pilgrim  of  whose  visit  as  a  religious  act  we  have  definite 
proof  is  Alexander,  a  Cappadocian  bishop,  who  came  to 
Jerusalem  in  consequence  of  a  dream  (212),  and  W£^s 
elected  coadjutor  to  Narcissus,  then  bishop  of  the  diocese 
(Euseb.,  E.  H.,  vi.  11).  Origen,  who  was  a  friend  of 
Alexander,  is  another  early  example,  but  his  own  words 
(Comm.  in  Evanffl  Joann.,  vi.  §  24)  imply  that  he  came 
rather  in  the  modern  spirit  of  devout  scholarly  inquiry 
than  as  a  pilgrim  in  the  strict  sense.  He  paid  a  short 
visit  in  216,  and  returned  in  231,  to  settle  down  for  a  time* 
at  Caasarea,  where  he  opened  a  school  of  theology  in. 238. 
It  is  not  till  after  the  pilgrimage  of  the  empress  Helena 
(the  first  quite  unquestionable  event  of  the  kind)  about 
326  or  328,  that  the  fashion  set  in,  accompanied  with  the 
desire  to  bring  back  some  relic,  either  inherently  sacred 
or  at  least  hallowed  by  contact  with  certain  venerated 
spots.  That  the  temper  of  the  time  was  not  a  very  critical 
one  is  sufiiciently  proved  by  the  casual  mention  '  by  St 
Chrysostom  of  a  pilgrimage  as  Commonly  practised '•  to 
Arabia  in.  order  to  see  the  dunghill  on  which  Job  sat,  and 
that  by  visitors  from  the  very  ends  of  the  earth  (Horn: 
v.  (le  Statuis). 

But  another  kind  of  pilgrimage,  destined  to  be  more 
powerful  than  that  to  Jerusalem, .  began  to  be  popular 
nearly  at  the  same  time,  that  to  the  tombs  of  distinguished 
martyrs  or  confessors.  In  the  present  day,  the  passionate 
admiration  of  the  Christians  of  the  3d,  4th,  and  5th 
centuries  for  the  martyrs  as  a  class  seems  somewhat  dis- 
proportioned  to  the  part  they  actually  played  in  the  history 
of  Christianity,  which  was  more  efiFectually  propagated 
and  maintained  by  the  eminent  teachers  and  divines  of 
the  ancient  church.  But  the  truth  is  that  they  supplied 
just  the  element  of  enthusiasm  which  was  needed  to  sus- 
tain the  courage  and  endurance  of  the  humbler  Christiaa 
laity  under  the  stress  of  recurrent  persecutions  ;  an<^  whod 
■peace  was  finally  secured  under  Constantino  the  QreatJ 
there  were  so  many  families  which  counted  one  or  more 
martyrs  amongst  their  kindred,  and  viewed  such  kinship 
as'a' patent  of  nobility,  that  everything  favoured  the  rapid 
development  of  pilgrimages  to  places  in  which  so  many 
had  a  direct  personal,  as.  well  as  a  coqjorate  religious, 
interest.  So  much  did  the  ndtion  begin  to  prevail  that 
pilgrimage  was  almost  a  necessity  of  religion,  nnd  thdt 
prayer  could  bo  heard  more  assuredly  in  particular  places, 
that  warnings  against  error  of  the  kind  were  uttered  by 


94 


r  I  L  G  Ft  I  JM  A  G  1. 


teachers  wliosc  own  acts  had  helped  fp  propagate  the 
op'miou  in  question.  Thus,  only  a  few  years  alter  the 
letter  above  cited,  urging  JIarcella  to  migrate  to  Bethlehem, 
St  Jerome  writes  to  Paulinas  (393)  pointing  out  that 
many  of  the  most  celebrated  saints  and  ascetics  had  never 
visited  the  holy  places,  that  heaven  is  just  as  open  from 
Britain  as  from  Jerusalem,  and  that  the  circumstances  of 
life  in  Jerusalem  itself  were  far  from  helpful  to  devotion. 
But  his  own^  abode  at  Bethlehem,  the  celebrity  of  the 
religious  houses  he  founded  and  directed  there,  and  the 
unlike  tenor  of  other  letters  he  WTOte,  entirely  counteracted 
this  advice.  St  Chrysostom  at  one  time  speaks  of  the  need- 
lessness  of  pilgrimage  (Horn.  i.  in  Pkilem.  f  Horn.  iii.  and 
iv.  ad  pop.  Antioch.),  and  at  another  expresses  his  own  wish 
to  see  the  relics  of  St  Paul  at  Eome  (Horn,  xxxii.  in  Bom: 
iL,  iii.;  Horn.  viii-.  in  Eph.  ii.).  So,  too,  St  Augustine  con- 
tributed powerluUy  to  promote  pilgrimages  to  the  shrines 
of  saints,  by  sending  in  404  two  clerical  disputants  to 
the  shrine  of  St  Felix  of  Nola,^  in  the  hope  that  some 
miracle  wonld  be,*  worked  there  to  decide  the  matter, 
though  no  such  signs  had  been  granted  at  the  grave  of  any 
African  saint  (!£/).  Ixxviii.).  And  in  another  place  he 
attests  the  working  of  many  miracles  by  the  relics  of  the 
l^rotomartyr  St  Stephen  in  various  African  towns  where 
portions  of  them  had  been  shrined  {De  Civ.  Dd,  xxii. 
=S).  Nevertheless,  in  yet  a  third  place  he  appears  to  con- 
demn this  very  temper  as  mere  superstition,  stating  that, 
while  he  knows  many  professing  Christians  who  are 
worshippers  of  tombs  and  pictures,  "  the  church  condemns 
them,  and  daily  strives  to  correct  them  as  evil  children" 
{Be  Mor:  Fed.  Cath.,  xxxiv.  75,  76). 

Here,  too,  example  proved  stronger  than  precept, .and 
the  only  unqualified  opposition  to  the  popular  tendency 
which  issued  from  any  quite  unimp6achable  source  (for 
Vigilantius  and  Jovinian  cannot  be  fairly  cited)  is  the 
remarkable  Jetter  of  St  Gregory  of  Nyssa  to  a  friend,  on 
the  subject  of  pilgrimages  to  Jerusalem,  the  heads  of  which 
are  as  under: — there  is  no  divine  precept  for  the 'usage; 
the  moral  dangers  of  the  journey,  from  bad  companions 
and  from  the  quality  of  ,_.the  inns,  are  great,  especially 
to  women,  and  above  all  'to  nuns ;  the  immorality  and 
irreligion  of  Jerusalem  itself  are  gross  and  'notorious. 
True,  he  had  gone  thither  himself,  but  it  was  on  public 
ecclesiastical  business,  connected  with  the  Arabian  Church, 
and  he  had  travelled  in  a  public  vehicle  with  a  company 
of  monks.  He  did  not  find  his  faith  stimulated  or 
improved  in  any  way  by  a  sight  of  the  scenes  of  the 
go.^pel  history,  and  he'  recommends  others  to  stay  at 
home,  assuring  them  that  no  spiritual  benefit  is  lost  by  so 
doing,  and  no  spiritual  gain  acquired  by  visiting  the  most 
teacred  places  without  inward  amendment  {Epist.  ii.).  The 
authenticity  of  this  epistle  has  been  challenged,  but  on  no 
sufficient  grounds. 

'yVhat  makes  the  devotion  to  the  tombs  of  saints  such  a 
powerful  factor  in  ecclesiastical  history  is  that,  after  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  itself,  no  grave  had  such  a  hold  on 
Christian  imagination  as  that  where  the  bodies  of  the  two 
chief  apostles,  St  Peter  and  St  Paul,  were  held  to  rest  in 
Eome.  And  consequently,  as  the  division  of  the  empire 
lessened-  the  mtercourse  between  East  and  West,  as  the 
'decay  of  the  old  lines  of  communication  made  travelling 
yiore  difficult,  and  as  the  advance  of  Mohammedanism  in 
Syria  and  Palestine  made  it  more  dangerous  also  in  that 
direction,  Kome  gradually  supplanted  Jerusalem  to  a  great 
.degree  in  the  West  as  the  goal  of  pilgrimage,  and  the 
enthusiasm,  of  the  visitors  did  much  to  consolidate  the 
papal  •■monarchy  over  Latin  Christendom,  So  markedly 
did  this'"  new  influence  prevail  that  it  has  left  its  trace  in 
more'- than 'one  European  language.  The  Low  Latin. 
vs>jneniis,  romipela  for  a  pilgrim  anywhither,  romeria,  romi- 


petctjium  for  the  actual  pilgrimage,  the  obsolete  French 
roiiiieu,   romipete,    romivar/e,    the    still    current   Spanish 
romero,  Tomcria,    and   Portuguese  romeiro,  romaria,    the 
Italian  forename  Romeo,  and  the  English  romare  {Piers 
Plowman)   attest   the   celebrity   and   popularity    of    this 
pilgrimage,  into  which  soon  entered  such  further  ideas  as 
the  desirability  of  confessing  sins  to  the  pope  personally 
and   obtaining    absolution    from   him,    the    reference   of 
private  cases  to  papal  arbitration  on  the  part  of  bishops 
and  other  eccle.siastical  judges,  and  the  injunction  of  the 
journey  as  in  itself  a  penance,  a  notion  prevalent  in  the 
Gallic  churches  as  early  as  the  close  of  the  5th  century 
(Caesar.  Arelat,  Horn.  iiL).     Nowhere  was  the  pilgrimage 
to   Eome   n'lore  popular   than   in   Saxon    England,   and 
amongst  the  crowds  of  penitents  who  made  the  journey 
were  four  kings,  Ceadwalla,  Ine,  Coinred,  and  Oiia,  all  of 
whom  died  in  Eome,  two  of  them  as  monks  (Beda,  H.E.; 
V.  7,  19).     There  -were  not  -wanting  efforts  to  check  the 
movement.     Apart  from  the  theological  objections  raised 
by    Claudius    of   Turin,    there   is   a   letter   extant,  from 
Boniface   of   Mainz,  an  Englishman   born,   to    Cuthbert, 
archbishop    of   Canterbury,  written   about    743,   begging 
him'  to  get  a  canon  enacted  to  forbid  the  pilgrimage  to 
Eome,  especially  to  nuns,  on  the  ground  of  the  moral  perils 
of  the  road,  stating  that  no  city  of  France,  Lombardy;  or 
Italy  was. -without  Englishwomen  leading  depraved  hves, 
whose   virtue   had    fallen    during    pilgrimage.     And   the 
council  of  Chalons,  in   813,   enacted  a   canon  to  check 
pilgrimages  both  to  Eome  and  to  the  shrine  of  St  Martin 
at  Tours  (then  the  most  famous  sanctuary  in  France),  on 
the  ground  of  serious  abuses  on  the  part  of  both  clergy 
and  laity;  and  the  council  of  Seligenstadt  made  a  like 
effort  in  1022.     But  even  the  robber  barons  who  looked 
on    pilgrims   as  their  natural    prey  could  not  arrest  the 
movement  (which  was  specially  stimulated,  as  we  learn 
from  Eadulphus  Glaber,  in  999  and  1000  by  the  belief 
that  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  hand),  and  the  Eoman 
pilgrimage  reached  its  height  ii)  the  Middle  Ages  through 
the  institution  of  the  Jubilee,  or  plenary  indulgence   to 
pilgrims,  by  Boniface  VUL  in  1300,  when  200,000  are 
said  to  have  availed   themselves  of  it,  and  smaller  but 
still  considerable    numbers  on. its  various  repetitions  at 
irregular   intervals  since.    ^The  .pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem 
received  fresh  stimulus  in^  the  9th  century  by  the  first 
occurrence  of  the  alleged  miracle  of  the  heavenly  fire  on 
Easter  Eve  at  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  continued  to  be 
frequented  till  checked  by  the  fanaticism  of    the  caliph 
Hakem-Biamr'illah   about  1018,   and  more  severely  and 
permanently  by  the  Seljukian  Turks  on  their  conquest 
of  Syria,  which  occasioned  those  armed  pilgrimages,  the 
crusades,    to  "whose   history    this   branch  of  the  eiubject 
thenceforward  belongs.     Meanwhile,  a  third  class  of  Sanctu- 
aries had  been  steadily  coming  into  notice  and  populai-ity, 
consisting  neither  of  the  seats  of  great  historical  events 
nor  of  the  ascertained   resting-places  of  eminent  saints. 
These  were  the  purely  legendary  shrines,  the  sites  of  some 
alleged  vision,   of   the  supernatural  discovery  of   hidden 
relics,  or  of  the  presence  of  a  -nonder-working  image  or 
picture.     One  of  the  earliest  and  most  famous  of  these  was 
that  of  Compostella,  where  the  relics  of  St  James  the  Great 
were  said  to  be  discovered  in  816,  and,  after  being  again 
hidden  for  many  centuries,  to  have  been  discovered  afresh 
in  1884.     This  was  one  of  those  most  frequented  by  Eng- 
lish pilgrims,  no  fewer  than  2460  licences  being  granted 
for  the  journey  in  the  one  yeaj  1434  .(Eymer,  "ygrf-.^xLj.' 


1  This  '■'on'^o'.trsa  of  Engiisn  pngnms  -was  soon  lookeJ  on  in  Francs 
as  politically  dangerous,  so  that  in  the  14th  century,  when  Pedro  the 
Cruel  was  dethroned  by  Henry  of  Trastemara,  the  latter  was  compelled 
by  his  allies  to  refuse  entr.ince  into  Spain  to  all  pilgrims  who  had  not 
Ucence  of  transit  from  the  king  of  France.     This  kind  of  jealousj 


p  I  L  —  r  1  L 


95 


Anotlicr,  uliicli  licranie  llic  Betlilclicm  of  tbc  West,  as 
lionie  had  become  its  Jerusalem,  was  Loreto,  where,  ever 
since  1295,  the  Santa  Casa,  declared  to  be  the  home  of 
tbc  Hi^ly  Family,  miraculously  transiiorted  from  Nazareth, 
has  'bccu  frequented  by  pilgrims"  till  very  recent  times, 
when  its  popularity  has  waned.  Other  famous  shrines, 
some  few  of  which  even  still  attract  yearly  crowds  of 
pilgrims,  are  Einsiedeln  in  Switzerland ;  Assisi,  Oropa, 
Varese  and  Vicovaro  in  Italy;  Monserrat  and  Guadalupe 
in  Spain  ;  Jlariazcll  in  Austria ;  Getting  and  Eberhards- 
clausea  in  Germany;  Wslsingham,  Becket's  shrine  at 
Canterbury,  Peterborough,  St  Davids,  and  Holywell  in 
England  and  Wales ;  St  Andrews  in  Scotland  ;  Chartres, 
Notre  Dame  de  Liesse,  Notre  Dame  de  Rocamadour,  and 
Notre  Dame  des  Victoires,  with  Ste  Anne  d'Auray  in 
Britanny,  in  France ;  and  Hal  in  Belgium.  Devotion  to 
these  shrines  was  encouraged  and  developed  by  copious  in- 
dulgences annexed  to  them;  but  this  system  in  the  long  run 
became  adverse  to  pilgrimages,  because  exactly  the  same 
jirivHeges  were  annexed  at  a  later  time  to  acts  much  more 
easy  of  performance.  Thus,  the  wearers  of  the  cord  of  St 
Francis,  every  time  of  reciting  certain  brief  prayers,  acquire 
all  the  indulgences  attached  to  the  holy  places  of  Palestine, 
Eome,  Assisi,  and  so  forth,  and  have  naturally  little  induce- 
ment to  perform  toilsome  and  costly  journeys  thither. 

There  is  a  further  small  class  of  pilgrimages,  differing 
from  all  others  in  being  neither  permanent  nor  yearly,  but 
periodical  at  various  long  intervals.'  They  are  usually 
connected  with  the  exposition  of  the  principal  relic  or  relics 
in  some  im^wrtant  church,  an  event  which  rarely  occurs. 
Such  are  the  pilgrimages  of  Cologne,  to  the  shrine  of  the 
Three  Kings,  and  that  of  Treves,  where  the  alleged  seam- 
less coat  of  Christ  has  been  displayed  for  popular  devotion, 
and  has  been  visited  by  vast  crowds  of  pilgrims. 

Pilgrims  in  the  Middle  Ages  were  known  by  a  peculiar 
garb  and  various  badges,  the  liood  and  cape,  the  staff  and 
scrip  aud  water-bottle,  and  the  low-crowned  hat,  turned  up  in 
front,  and  fastened  with  strings,  being  common  to  all,  while 
the  palm  specially  marked  a  pilgrim  from  the  Holy  Land  ; 
a  shell,  one  from  Compostella ;  a  bottle  or  bell,  one  from 
Canterbury,  and  so  forth.  They  had  many  privileges  and 
advantages.  They  were  exempt  from  toll,  their  persons 
were  inviolable,  and  any  injury  done  to  them  incurred  the 
penalty  of  excommunication  ;  they  were  entitled  to  shelter, 
fire,  and  water  in  all  convents  on  their  road,  and  the  needier 
ones  to  food  in  addition  ;  and  there  were  rcsting-stations 
erected  for  them  on  all  the  great  lines  of  travel,  .sustained 
sometimes  by  voluntary  offerings,  and  sometimes  by  public 
imposts;  while  in  Rome,  above  all,  institutions  for  their 
reception  and  relief  were  established  early,  and  are  still  in 
active  operation.'  Nevertheless  they  declined  in  repute, 
not  only  by  reason  of  the  feigned  devotees  who  joined  them 
for  purposes  of  vagrancy  and  mendicancy,  and  even  from 
worse  motives,  but  because  many  notorious  criminals  were 
customarily  sent  on  pilgrimage  as  a  punishment,  with  no 
care  to  isolate  them  from  their  innocent  companions.  The 
general  charge  of  moral  deterioration  as  a  result  of  pil- 
grimage, which  recurs  from  the  fourth  century  onward.s, 
is  specifically  brought  by  Langland  in  respect  of  truthful- 
ness : — 

"  Pilgrims  and  p.al  meres  plighten  hem  togidere, 
For  to  sekcQ  seiiit  Jamo  und  seintes  at  Korao. 
Tliey  wenten  forth  in  hire  woy,  with  many  \Wso  tales/ 
•And  hadden  leve  to  lycn  all  hire  lif  after.'' 

— ( Vision  of  Piers  J'lmoman,  pass.  i.  lino  82). 

f= — 

lasted  very  long,  for  there  nro  edicts  of  Louis  XIV.  and  XV.  forbid- 
ding foreign  pilgrimage  to  French  subjects  without  the  written  per- 
rnissidn  of  thtir  bishop,  and  the'  counter-signature  of  a  6t»te  odicial, 
under  pain  of  the  galleys  for  life.  They  bear  date  1671,  1686,  and  173H. 
/  '  For  more  details  see  Mr  Sciidamoru's  articles,  "Holy  Places"  and 
"  Pilgrimagts,"  in  Smith's  DicUonary  of  Ckrislian  AnliiiuUiu. 


Hence  pilgrimages  ■were  attacked  with^tlte  wbnpons  oT 
ridicule,  and  the  most  celebrated  satires  upon  them  arc  the 
chapter  in  Rnnehe  Fvchs,  describing  Picj'nard's  adventures 
as  a  pilgrim,  and  the  yet  wittier  squib  of j- Erasmus,'  /Vrc- 
(irinatio  reliffionis  ergo,  in  which  he  gives  a  sarcastic  account 
of  the  pilgrimage  to  Walsingham,  which  had  much  to  do 
with  destroying  the  prestige  of'not  only  that  particular 
one,  but  most  others  a.\s,o.  The  French  Revolution  all  but 
completed  the  work  of  the  Reformation  in  causing  pil- 
grimages to  decline  seriously,  where  they  were  not  entirely 
abolished,  in  the  West,  though  they  were  still  able  to  main- 
tain their  ground  in  retired  and  unchanging  places  such  y 
Britanny,  various  places  in  central  Italy,  and  in  Ireland, 
where  the  severely  penitential  pilgrimages  of  Lough  Finn, 
Lough  Dearg,  and  Croagh  Patrick  are  not  yet  obsolete. 
There  was  a  remarkable  recrudescence  of  the  spirit  of  pib 
grimage  under  the  pontificate  of  Pius  IX.,  notably  to  tlie 
new  sanctuaries  of  La  Salctte  and  Lourdes  in  France, 
which  reached  its  height  about  1S72-73,  but  has  shown 
signs  of  subsiding  again  since. 

In  the  Eastern  Church,  pilgrimages  have  not  for  many 
centuries  formed  so  important  a  part  of  popular  religion 
as  in  Latin  Christendom,  and  the  number  of  frequented 
shrines  is  very  small.  In  the  Greelc  Church  properly  so 
called,  Mount  Athos,  with  its  numerous  monasteries,  where 
the  great  yearly  gathering  is  on  the  feast  of  the  Trans- 
figuration, ranks  next  to  the  visit  to  the  Jordan  (Tozer, 
Highlands  of  Turkey,  i.  103).  After  Jlount  Athos  comes 
a  slirino  in  the  island  of  Tenos,  where,  in  the  cathedral 
church  of  the  Panagia  Evangelistria,  is  preserved  an  ieoni 
of  the  Madonna,  alleged  to  be  wonder-working,  and  said 
to  have  been  discovered  by  means  of  a  dream  in  1824  ;  the 
annual  concourse  of  pilgrims  twice  a  year,  on  the  feasts  of 
the  Annunciation  and  the  Assumption,  is  very  great.  Three 
alleged  pictures  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  by  St  Luke — at  Megas- 
pelion,  at  Sumelas  in  the  mountains  behind  Trebizond,  and 
at  Stiri  in  Mount  Helicon — are  also  much  visited.  Etch- 
miadzin  is  the  chief  Armenian  pilgrimage,  besides  which 
are  those  of  Kaisariyeh  and  Mush  (Tozer,  Turkish  Armenia, 
pp.  161,  271).  -And  finally,  the  chief  Russian  pilgrimages 
are  to  the  Petcherskoilavra  at  Kieff  (said  to  be  visited  by 
200,000  pilgrims  yearly),  the  Solovetsk  monasfery^ncar 
Archangel,  and  the  Troitsa,  close  to  ^foscow  besides  many 
more  locally  popular  shrines.  (n.  f.  l.) 

PILLORY.  This  was  a  mode  of  punishment^  b^ 
public  exposure'  of  the  offender  on  a  platforin  ot  RcafTold 
long  used  in  most  countries  of  Europe,  originating  prob- 
ably with  the  Anglo-Saxons,  one  of  whose  metliods  of 
punishment  as  described  by  Strutt  is  nearly  identical  with 
the  instrument  which  eventually  became  known  as  the 
pillory.  The  etymology  is  not  quite  clearly  made  outl 
It  is  most  probably  connected  with  pillar,  Fr.  pilier,  M.  H; 
German  Ff'daere,  but  there  are  forms  with  an  initial ■« 
(Prov.  espitlori.  Low  Lat.  spilorium)  which  this  derivation 
does  not  explain.  The  more  usual  French  term  is  not 
pilori  but  le  carcaru  The  Germans  have  Prdtrr,  IltaU- 
favg  or  halsfang  (Anglo-Saxon  for  a  catching  of  the  neck) 
was  the  old  English  name.  Tlie  word  was  also  sometimes 
applied  to  the  pecuniary  mulct  paid  in  commutation  of 
the  punishment.  No  punishment  has  been  inflicted  in  so 
many  different  ways  as  that  of  the  pillory.  Sometimes 
the  machine  was  constructed  so  that  scveriil  criminals' 
might  be  pilloried  at  the  samo  time,  but  it  wr.s  commonly 
capable  of  holding  only  one.'  Douce  (//hntratiun.i  '/ 
Shakespeare)  gives  six  representations  of  distinct  varictio* 
of  this  instrument.  In  tJrirtiths  {Chron.  of  Neiiyilr)  and 
in  a  learned  and  exhaustive  account  of  fho  (pillory  Ijy 
Jewitt  {JMiquary,  April  1P61),  examples  will  also  1<c 
found,  and  notably  of  the  pillory  for  wotncn,  which  dilTcrfcil 
in  farm  from  thnt  in  use  for  male  oflendurs.     It  \\qu1iI 


D6 


P 1 L— P 1 L 


appear  that  it  had  not  always  been  customary  to  sub- 
ject women  to  this  form  of  punishment;  for  them  the 
thew  or  the  tumbrel,  which  latter  was  probably  the  same 
as  the  ducking  or  cucking  stool  often  spoken  of  in  the 
early  English  laws  in  conjunction  with  the  pillory,  was 
reserved.  These  varieties  are  aU  reducible,  however, 'to 
the  simplest  form  of  the  pillory  as  ordinarily  known,  which 
consisted  of  a  wooden  post  and  frame  fixed  on  a  platform 
raised  several  feet  from  the  ground,  behind  which  the 
culprit  stood,  his  head  and  his  hands  being  thnist  through 
holes  in  the  frkme  so  as  to  be  exposed  in  front  of  it.  This 
frame  in  the  more  complicated  forms  of  the  instrument 
consisted  of  a  perforated  iron  circle  or  carcan  (hence  the 
French  name),  which  secured  the  heads  and  hands  of 
several  persons  at  the  same  time. 

In  the  statutes  of  Edward  I.  it  is  enacted  that  every 
pillory   or   stretch-neck    should   be   made   of   convenient 
strength  so  that  execution  might  be  done  on   offenders 
without  peril  of  their  bodies.     It  was  customary  to  shave 
the  heads  wholly  or  partially  and  the  beards  of  men,  and 
to  cut  o£E  the  hair  and  even  in  extreme  cases  to  shave  the 
heads  of  female  culprits.     Some  of  the  offences  punished 
in  England  by  the  pillory  will  be  found  enumerated  in  the 
statute  51  Hen.  III.  c.'6  (1266),  comprehending  chiefly 
indictable   offences  not   amounting  to   felony  (commonly 
called  misdemeanours),  such  as  forestalling  and  regrating, 
using  deceitful  weights  and  measures,  perjury  or  suborna- 
tion of  perjury,  libel,  seditious  writings,  &c.    Later  on,  the 
punishment   of  the   pillory  was  ordained  for  courtesans, 
common  scolds,  and  brawlers  and  other  like  delinquents 
both  male  and  female,  and  in  the  later  years  of  its  exist- 
ence, notably  during  the  17th  and  .18th  centuries,  it  was 
much  resorted  to  as  a  punishment  for  political  offenders, 
•who  on  some  occasions  experienced  the  roughest  treatment 
at   the  hands  of   the   mob,   ill-usage   resulting'  in  some 
instances  on  record    even   in   death.    '  The  intention  of 
setting  a  criminal  in  the  pillory  was  that  he  should  become 
infamous  and  known  as  such  afterwards  by  the  spectators. 
Examples  have   not   been   wanting,   however,    in  whict 
piuch  sympathy  has  been  both  felt  and  expressed  by  the 
populace  for  the  individual  subjected  to  this  punishment. 
The  duration  of  the  punishment  was  usually  assigned  at 
the  discretion  of   the  judge   who   passed   the  ^sentence, 
though  sometimes  it  was  fixed  by  law.     The  form  of  the 
judgment  was  that  the  defendant  should  "  be  set  in  and 
upon  the  pillory";  he  was  consequently  said  to  stand  in 
the  pillory,  not  at  it. 

The  pillory  was  abolished  in  Britain,  so  far  as  related 
to  all  offences  save  perjury  and  subornation,  in  1816  (56 
Geo.  III.  c.  138),  and  finally  altogether  by  statute  7  Will. 
rV.  and  1  Vict.  c.  23  in  1837.  In  the  former  Act  power 
had  been  reserved  to  the  court  to  pass  sentence  of  fine  or 
imprisonment  or  both  in  lieu  of  the  pillory.  The  punish- 
ment was  done  away  with  in  France  in  1832  upon  the 
revision  of  the  penal  code,  and  has  now  indeed  Been  with- 
drawn from  most  of  the  modern  systems  of  penal  law. 

PILOT.  The  English  Merchant  Shipping  Act  of  1854 
(17  &  18  Vict.  c.  104)  defines  a  pilot  as  being  a  person 
duly  licensed  by  any  pilotage  authority  to  conduct  ships 
to  which  he  does  not  belong  as  one  of  the  crew.  Pilots 
are  in  fact  taken,  on  board  to  superintend  the  steering  of 
the  vessel,  where  the  navigation  is  difficult  and  dangerous, 
in  consequence  of  their  special  knowledge  of  particular 
waters ;  and  it  is  to  this  class  alone  that  the  term  now 
applies,  whereas  in  early  times  the  pilot  was  the  steersman, 
or  the  individual  who  conducted  the  navigation  of  a  ship 
across  the  ocean  and  out  of  sight  of  land.  The  word  seems 
to  be  of  Dutch  origin,  and  to  mean  primarily  a  person 
■who  conducts  a  ship  by  the  sounding  line  (peillood). 
Cowell  {Law  Diet),  describing  lodemanage,  epeaka  of  it  aa 


the  hire  of  a  pilot  for  conducting  a  vessel  from  one  placs 
to  another, — a  lodesman  (Ang.  Sax.  Idd-nian,  a  leader) 
being  a  pilot  for  harbour  and  river  duty.  During  the 
period  of  his  charge  the  whole  responsibility  of  the 
safe  conduct  of  the  vessel  devolves  upon  the  pilot.  Host 
systems  of  maritime  law  have  made  the  employment  of 
pilots  compulsory,  though  this  does  not  usually  apply  to 
ships  of  war.  One  effect  of  neglect  or  refusal  on  the  part 
of  the  master  of  a  ship  to  take  a  pilot  is  to  discharge  the 
insurers  from  their  liability.*  Excepting  under  extraordin- 
ary circumstances  (such  as  where  it  is  evident  that  he  is 
acting  rashly  or  is  intoxicated,  or  is  palpably  incompetent) 
a  master  would  not  be  justified  in  interfering  with  the 
pilot  in  his  proper  vocation.  In  England,  societies  or 
corporations  have  long  been  established  for  the  appoint- 
ment and  control  of  pilots  in  particular  localities ;  and  of 
these  the  Trinity  House,  London,  owing  to  the  number  of 
the  pilots  under  its  control,  and  the  large  extent  of  its 
jurisdiction,  may  be  deemed  the  principal.  The  laws  re- 
lating to  pUotage  were  consolidated  by  48  Geo.  III.  c. 
104  (1808),  which  was  amended  by  6  Geo.  IV.  c.  125 
(1825) ;  further  regulations  were  made  by  16  &  17  Vict, 
c.  129  (1853),  which  incorporated  the  Cinque  Ports  with 
the  Trinity  House  pilots ;  and  all  existing  regulations  on 
the  subject  were  embodied  in  the  Merchant  Shipping  Act 
17  &  18  Vict.  c.  104  (1854),  already  referred  to,  from 
which  pilotage  authorities  within  the  United  Kingdom 
derive  their  jurisdiction,  and  which  regulates  their  powers, 
the  licensing  of  pilots  and  their  rights,  privileges,  liabili- 
ties, and  remuneration  (Maude  and  Pollock,  Law  of  Mer- 
chant Shipping,  1861). 

The  laws  of  pilotage  in  the  United  States  are  regulated 
by  the  individual  States  according  to  the  Acts  of  Congress. 
PILOT-FISH  {Naucrates  ductor),  a  pelagic  fish  of  the 
family  of  Horse-Mackerels,  well  known  to  sailors  from  its 
peculiar  habit  of  keeping  company  with  ships  and  large 
fishes,  especially  sharks.  It  occurs  in  all  tropical  and 
Bub-tropical  seas,  and  is  common  in  the  Mediterranean,  but 
becomes  scarcer  in  higher  latitudes.-  In  summer  pilots 
will  follow  ships  as  far  north  as  the  south  coast  of  Eng- 
land into  port,  where  they  are  generally  speedily  caught. 
This  habit  wus  known  to  the  ancients,  who  describe  the 


PUot  fisfii 

Pompilus  as  a  fish  which  points'out  the  way  to  dubious  or 
embarrassed  sailors,  and  by  its  sudden  disappearance  indi- 
cates to  them  the  vicinity  of  land  ;  the  ancient  seamen  of 
the  Mediterranean  regarded  it  therefore  as  a  sacred  fish, 
That  the  pilot  follows  sharks  is  an  observation,  of  much 
later  date,  which  first  appears  in  works  of  travel  of  the 
17th  century,  the  writers  asserting  that  the  shark  never 
seizes  the  pilot-fish,  and  that  the  latter  is  of  great  usa 
to  its  big  companion  in  conducting  it  and  showing  it  the 
way  to  its  food.  It  is,-  however,  extremely  doubtful 
whether  the  pilot's  connexion  with  a  shark  serves  a  more 
special  purpose  than  its  temporary  attachment  to  a  ship. 
It  accompanies  both  on  account  of  the  supply  of  food  which 
it  derives  from  them,  picking  up  the  crustaceans,  cirripeds, 

>,■  '  In  a  measure  before  parliament  in  1884,  but  not  passed,  it  was 
contemplated  to  wholly  abolish  compulsory  pilotage,  releasing  owncre 
or  masters  of  ships  not  employing  pilots  from  all  pilotage  dues  or  rates 
and  from  asy  penalty  for  not  employing  a  pilot. 


r I L— p I N 


y? 


or  other  marine  animals  swarming  about  the  ship's  bottom 
or  parasitic  on  the  shark,  offal  thrown  overboard,  or 
smaller  pieces  of  flesh  which  are  left  unnoticed  by  the 
shark  when  it  tears  its  prey.  The  pilot,  therefore,  stands 
to  both  in  the  relation  of  a  so-called  "commensal,"  like  the 
Erheneis  or  sucking-fish,  whose  habits  arc  in  some  respects 
identical  with  those  of  the  pilot,  and  which  is  frequently 
found  associated  with  it.  All  observers,  however,  agree 
that  neither  the  pilot  nor  the  sucker  is  ever  attacked  by 
the  shark.  The  pilot  attains  to  a  length  of  about  12 
inches.  In  the  shape  of  its  body  it  resembles  a  mackerel, 
but  is  rather  shorter,  especially  in  the  head,  and  covered 
with  small  scales.  A  sharp  keel  runs  along  the  middle  of 
each  side  of  the  tail.'  The  first  dorsal  fin  consists  of  a  few 
short  spines  not  connected  by  a  membrane ;  the  second 
dorsal  and  the  anal  are  composed  of  numerous  rays.  The 
teeth,  which  occupy  the  jaws,  vomer,  and  palatine  bones, 
are  all  small,  in  villiform  bands.  The  coloration  of  the  pilot 
renders  it  conspicuous  at  a  distance;  on  a  bluish  ground- 
colour from  five  to  seven  dark-blue  or  violet  cross-bands 
traverse  the  body  from  the  back  to  the  belly.  The 
pilot-fish  spawns  in  the  open  sea,  and  its  fry  is  constantly 
caught  in  the  tow-net.  But  yoijng  pilot-fish  differ  con- 
siderably from  the  adult,  having  the  spines  of  the  first 
dorsal  connected  by  a  membrane,  and  some  bones  of  the. 
head  armed  with  projecting  spines.  These  little  fishes 
were  therefore  long  considered  to  be  a  distinct  genus, 
Nauclerus. 

PILPAY.     See  Bidpai,  vol.  in.  p.  666. 

PILSEN,  the  second  town  of  Bohemia,  lies  at  the  con- 
fluence of  the  Radbusa  and  the  Mies,  50  miles  to  the 
south-west  of  Prague.  It  consists  of  the  town  proper, 
which  is  regularly  built  and  surrounded  with  promenades 
on  the  site  of  the  old  ramparts,  and  of  three  suburbs. 
The  most  prominent  buildings  are  the  Gothic  church  of 
St  Bartholomew,  said  to  date  from  1292  ;  the  Renaissance 
town-house,  containing  an  interesting  armoury ;  the  new 
real  school ;  and  the  German  and  Bohemian  theatres. 
The  staple  article  of  manufacture  and  commerce  is  beer, 
of  which  about  6,000,000  gallons  are  brewed  here  annu- 
ally. Other  industrial  products  are  machinery,  enamelled 
tinware,  leather,  alum,  paper,  earthenware,  stoves,  and 
spirits,  while  a  tolerably  brisk  trade  is  carried  on  in  wool, 
feathers,  cattle,  and  horses.  In  the  neighbourhood  are 
several  coal-pits,  iron-works,  and  glass-works,  as  well  as 
large  deposits  of  kaolin.  The  four  annual  fairs  have  lost 
much  of  their  former  importance.  The  population  in 
1880  was  38,883,  consisting  of  Germans  and  Czechs  in 
nearly  equal  proportions. 

PiUen  first  appears  in  history  in  976,  as  tlio  scene  of  a  battle 
between  Otho  I.  and  Henry  V.,  duke  of  Bavaria,  and  it  became  a 
town  in  1272.  During  tlie  Hussite  wars  it  resisted  several  sieges, 
but  it  was  taken  by  Mansfeld  iu  1618.  Wallcnstein  fixed  his 
headcjuarters  at  Filscn  in  1633-34  ;  and  it  was  the  principal  scene 
•f  the  alleged  conspiracy  wliich  cost  liim  his  life.  The  first 
printing  press  in  Bolieniiawas  set  up  at  I'ilsen  iu  14G8. 

PIMENTO,  also  called  Allspice  (from  a  supposed  com- 
bination of  various  flavours)  and  Jamaica  Pepper,  is  the 
dried  immature  fruit  of  Eur/enia  Pimenta  or  Pimenta  offi- 
cinalis, an  evergreen  tree  about  30  feet  high  belonging  to 
the  natural  order  Myrlacai:.  It  is  indigenous  in  the  West 
India  Islands,  growing  on  limestone  hills  near  the  sea. 
The  spice  derives  its  name  from  pimienia,  the  Spanish 
word  for  pepper,  which  was  given  to  it  by  the  early 
explorers  of  the  New  World  from  its  resemblance  to 
peppercorns.  The  allspice  of  commerce  is  furnished  wholly 
by  the  island  of  Jamaica ;  and  all  attempts  to  cultivate 
the  tree  where  it  is  not  found  growing  .spontaneously 
have  hitherto  failed.  The  so-called  pimento  walks  or 
natural  plantations  from  which  the  pimento  is  collected 
are  formed  by  cutting  down  other  growth  upon  land  where 


tlie  .'•ree  grows  naturally,  and  thus  allowing  it  to  multiply 
freelj'.  The  berries  are  gathered  in  July  and  August, 
when  of  full  size,  but  still  unripe, — the  small  branches 
bearing  fruit  being  broken  off  and  dried  in  the  sun  and 
air  for  some  days,  when  the  stalks  are  removed  and  the 
berries  are  ready  for  packing.  These  owe  their  aromatic 
properties  to  an  essential  oil,  of  which  they  yield  on  dis- 
tillation from  3  to  4i  per  cent.  This  oil  has  a  specific 
gravity  of  1'037,  deflects  the  ray  of  polarized  light  2'  to 
the  left  when  examined  in  a  column  of  50  millimetres, 
and  has  substantially  the  same  composition  as  oil  of 
cloves,  although  differing  in  flavour.  The  berries  also 
contain  a  tannin  (giving  a  black  colour  with  ferric  salts), 
starch,  and  a  minute  quantity  of  an  alkaloid  which, 
according  to  Dragendorff,  has  somewhat  the  odour  of 
conia.  The  chief  use  of  pimento  is  as  a  spice.  The  oil 
'  and  distilled  water  are  used  to  a  limited  extent  in  medicine 
to  di.sguise  the  taste  of  nauseous  drugs,  and  the  oil  is 
also  used  in  perfuming  soaps.  The  yield  of  some  trees  is 
said  to  reach  as  much  as  150  lb  of  fresh  or  112  lb  of 
dried  berries.  The  highest  export  reached  of  late  years 
was  6,857,830  lb  in  1870-71,  valued  at  £28,574.  In 
1877-78  it  was  6,195,109  lb.  About  two-thirds  of  the 
produce  goes  to  England,  and  one-third  to  the  United 
States.  The  value  in  the  London  market  is  about  4d.  to 
6d.  per  lb. 

The  fruit  of  an  allied  species,  Pimenta  acris,  Wi^ht,  distingiiished 
by  the  calyx  being  crowjied  with  teeth,  is  sonietunes  met  with  in 
commerce.  The  bay  rum  so  much  used'as  a  toilet  article  in  the 
United  States  is  a  tincture  flavoured  with  tlie  oil  of  the  fruit  and 
leaves  of  P.  acris,  which  is  commonly  hnown  as  the  bayberry  tree. 
PIN.  A  pin  is  a  small  spike,  usually  of  metal,  with  a 
bulbed  head,  or  some  other  arrangement  for  preventing 
the  spike  passing  entirely  through  the  cloth  or  other 
material  it  is  used  for  fastening  together.  In  one  form  or 
another  pins  are  of  the  highest  antiquity,  and  it  may  be 
assumed  that  their  use  is  coeval  with  human  dress  of  any 
kind,  the  earliest  form  doubtless  being  a  natural  thorn, 
such  as  is  still  often  seen  fastening  the  dresses  of  peasant 
women  in  upper  Egypt.  Pins  of  bronze,  and  bronze 
brooches  in  which  the  pin  is  the  essential  feature,  are  of 
common  occurrence  among  the  remains  of.  the  bronze  age_ 
Brooches  and  pins  on  which  considerable  artistic  ingenuity 
was  lavished  were  universally  used  among  the  civilized 
nations  of  antiquity  (see  Brooch,  vol.  iv.  p.  369).  The 
ordinary  domestic  pin  had  become  in  the  15th  century  an 
article  of  suflRcient  importance  in  England  to  warrant 
legislative  notice,  as  in  1483  the  importation  of  pins  was 
prohibited  by  statute.  In  1540  Queen  Catherine  received 
pins  from  France,  and  again  in  1543  an  Act  was  passed 
providing  that  "  no  person  shall  put  to  sale  any  pinnes 
but  only  such  as  shall  bo  double  headed,  and  have  the 
heads  soldered  fast  to  the  shank  of  the  pinnes,  well 
smoothed,  the  shank  well  shapcn,  the  points  well  and 
round  filed,  canted,  and  sharpened."  At  that  time  pins 
of  good  quality  were  made  of  brass  ;  but  a  largo  proportion 
of  those  against  which  the  legislative  enactment  was 
directed  were  made  of  iron  wire  blanched  and  passed  as 
brass  pins.  To  a  largo  extent  the  supply  of  pins  in 
England  was  received  from  France  till  about  1626,  in 
which  year  the  manufacture  was  introduced  into  Glou- 
cestershire by  John  Tilsby.  '  His  business  flourished  so 
well  that  he  soon  gave  employment  to  1500  ptrsons,  and 
Stroud  pins  attained  a  high  reputation.  In- 1636  the 
pinmakers  of  London  formed  a  corporation,'  and  the 
manufacture  was  subsequently  established  at  Bristol  and 
Birmingham,  the  latter  town  ultimately  becoming  tho 
principal  centre  of  tho  industry.  So  early  as  1775, the 
attention  of  tho  enterprising  colonists  in  Carolina  was 
drawn  to  the  manufacture  by  tho.  ofTcr  of  prizes  for  the 
first  native-made  pins  and  needle's.     At  a  Inter  date  several 


98 


P  I  N  —  P  I  N 


pin-making  machines  were  invented  in  the  Urtited  States. 
During  the  war  of  1812,  when  the  price  of  pins  rose 
enormously,  the  manufacture  was  actually  started,  but  the 
industry  was  not  fairly  successful  tiU  about  the  year  1836. 
Previous  to  this  an  American,  Mr  Lemuel  W.  Wright  of 
Massachusetts,  had  in  1824  secured  in  England  a  patent 
for  a  pin-making  machine,  which  established  the  industry 
on  its  present  basis. 

The  old  form  of  pin,  which  hag  become  ohsoleto  only  within  the 
memory  of  middle-aged  persons,  consisted  of  a  shank  with  a  separate 
head  of  fine  wire  twisted  round  and  secured  to  it.  The  formation 
aud  attachment  of  this  head  were  the  principal  points  to  which  inven- 
tive ingenuity  was  directed.  Tlie  old  method  of  heading  involved 
numerous  operations,  Which  had  to  be  expeditiously  accomplished, 
aud,  notwithstanding  the  expertness  of  the  workers,  the  result  was 
frequently  unsatisfactory.  I'ine  wire  for  heads  was  first  wound  on 
a  lathe  round  a  spit  the  exact  circumference  of  the  pin  shanks  to 
be  headed.  In  this  way  a  long  elastic  spiral  was  produced  which 
liad  next  to  be  cut  into  heads,  each  consisting  of  two  complete  turns 
of  the  spiral.  These  heads  were  softened  by  annealing  and  made 
into  a  heap  for  the  heading  boy,  whose  duty  was  to  thrust  a  number 
of  shanks  into  the  heap  and  let  as  many  as  might  be  fit  themselves 
with  heads.  Such  shanks  as  came  out  thus  headed  were  passed  to 
the  header,  who  with  a  falling  block  and  die  arrangement  compressed 
together  shank  and  head  of  such  a  number  as  his  die-block  was 
fitted  for.  AH  the  other  operations  of  straightening  the  wire, 
cutting,  pointing,  &c.,  were  separately  performed,  and  these  numer- 
ous details  connected  with  the  production  of  a  common  pin  were 
seized  on  by  Adam  Smith  as  one  of  the  most  remarkable  illustrations 
of  the  advantages  of  the  division  of  labour. 

The  beautiful  automatic  machinery  by  which  pins  are  now  made 
of  single  pieces  of  wire  is  au  invention  of  the  present  century.  In 
1817  a  communication  was  made  at  the  Patent  Office  by  Seth  Hunt, 
describing  a  machine  for  making  pins  with  "  head,  shaft,  and  point 
in  one  entire  piece."  By  this  machine  a  suitable  length  of  wire 
was  cut  off  and  held  in  a  die  till  a  globular  head  was  formed  on 
one  end  by  compression,  and  the  other  end  was  pointed  by  the  re- 
volution around  it  of  a  roughened  steel  wheeL  This- machine  does 
not  appear  to  have  come  into  use;  but  in  1824  Wright  patented  the 
pin-making  apparatus  above  referred  to  as  the  parent  form  of  the 
machinery  now  employed.  An  extension  for  five  years,  from  1838, 
of  Wright's  patent,  with  certain  additions  and  improvements,  was 
secured  by  Henry  Shuttleworth  and  Daniel  Foote  Tayler,  and  in 
the  hands  of  Tayler's  firm  in  Birmingham  the  development  of  the 
machine  has  principally  taken  place.  In  a  pin-making  machine  as 
now  used  wire  of  suitable  gauge  running  off  a  reel  is  drawn  in  and 
straightened  by  passing  between  straightening  pins  or  studs  set  in 
a  table.  'VV'hen  a  pin  length  has  entered  it  is  caught  by  lateral 
jaws,  beyond  which  enough  of  the  end  projects  to  form  a  pin-head. 
Against  this  end  a  steel  punch  advances  aud  compresses  the  metal 
by  a  die  arrangement  into  the  form  of  a  head.  The  pin  length  is 
immediately  cut  off  and  the  headed  piece  drops  iuto  a  slit  suffi- 
ciently wide  to  pass  the  wire  throtigh  but  retain  the  bead.  The 
pins  are  consequently  suspended  by  the  head  while  their  projecting 
points  are  held  against  a  revolving  file-cut  steel  roller,  along  the 
face  of  which  they  are  carried  by  gravitation  till  they  fall  out  at 
the  extremity  well-pointed  jina.  The  pins  are  next  purified  by 
boiling  in  weak  beer  ;  and,  so  cleaned,  they  are  arranged  in  a  copper 
pan  in  layers  alternating  with  layers  of  grained  tin.  The  contents 
of  the  pan  are  covered  with  water  over  which  a  quantity  of  argol 
(bitartrate  of  potash)  is  sprinkled,  and  after  boiling  for  several 
hours  the  brass  pins  are  coated  with  a  thin  deposit  of  tin,  wiiich 
gives  them  their  silvery  appearance.  They  are  then  washed  in 
clean  water  and  dried  by  revolving  in  a  barrel,  mixed  with  dry 
bran  or  fine  sawdust,  from  which  they  are  winnowed  finished  pins. 

A  large  proportion  of  the  pins  sold  are  stuck  into  paper  by  an 
automatic  machine  not  less  ingenious  than  the  pin-making  machine 
itself.  Mourning  pins  are  made  of  iron  wire,  finished  by  immers- 
ing in  black  japan  and  drying  in  a  stove.  A  considerable  variety 
of  pins,  including  the  ingeniously  coiled,  bent,  and  twisted  nursery 
safety  pin,  ladies'  hair  pins,  &c.,  are  also  made  by  automatic  machin- 
ery. ^  The  sizes  of  ordinary  pins  range  from  the  S^-inch  stout 
blanket  pin  down  to  the  finest  slender  gilt  pins  used  by  entomolo- 
gists, 4500  of  which  weigh  about  an  ounce.  A  few  years  ago  it 
was  estimated  that  in  the  United, Kingdom  there  were  made  daily 
50,000,000  pins,  of  which  37,000,000  were  produced  in  Birmingham, 
and  the  weight  of  brass  and  iron  wire  then  annually  consumed 
was  stated  at  1275^  tons,  of  which  one-eighth  part  was  iron  wire. 
The  annual  value  of  the  whole  British  trade  was  stated  at  £222,000. 
At  the  same  time  the  consumption  of  wire  in  pin-making  in  the 
United  States  was  estimated  to  be  from  350  to  600  tons  per  annum, 
the  value  of  the  trade  being  £112,000.  -  (J.  PA) 

PINDAE,  the  greatest  lyric  poet  of  ancient  Greece 
whose  work  is  represented  by  large  remains,  was  bom 


about  522  B.C.,  being  thus  some  thirty-four  years  yotinge. 
than  Simonides  of  Ceos.  His  father's  name  was  Dai-' 
phantus  ;  his  birthplace  the  village  of  Cynoscephalae  nea? 
Thebes  in  Boeotia.  The  traditions  of  his  family,  which 
claimed  a  proud  descent,  have  left  their  impress  on  his 
poetry,  and  are  not  without  importance  for  a  correct 
estimate  of  his  relation  to  his  Contemporaries.  The  clan 
of  the  .iEgeidae — tracing  their  line  from  the  hero  jEgeus 
—belonged  to  the  "  Cadmean  "  element  of  Thebes,  i.e.,  to 
the  elder  nobility  whose  supposed  date  went  back  to  the 
days  of  the  founder  Cadmus.  A  branch  of  the  Theban 
.^geidse  had  been  settled  in  A'chsean  times  at  Amyclse  in 
the  valley  of  the  Eurotas  (Find.  Isthm.  vi.  14),  and  after 
the  Dorian  conquest  of  the  Peloponnesus  had  apparently 
been  adopted  by  the  Spartans  into  one  of  the  three  Dorian 
tribes.  The  Spartan  ^Egeidse  helped  to  colonize  tho 
island  of  Thera  {Fyth.  v.  68).  Another  branch  of  the  raoo 
was  settled  at  Cyrene  in  Africa ;  and  Pindar  tells  how  hii 
.^gid  clansmen  at  Thebes  "  showed  honour  "  to  Cyrene  as 
often  as  they  kept  the  festival  of  the  Carneia  (Pyth.  v. 
75).  Pindar  is  to  be  conceived,  then,  as  standing  within 
the  circle  of  those  families  for  whom  the  heroic  myths 
were  domestic  records.  He  had  a  personal  link  with  the 
memories  which  everywhere  were  most  cherished  by 
Dorians,  no  less  thaft  with  those  which  appealed  to  men 
of  "  Cadmean "  or  of  Achaean  stock.  And  the  wide 
ramifications  of  the  j^lgeidas  throughout  Hellas  rendered 
it  peculiarly  fitting  that  a  member  of  that  illustrious  clan 
should  celebrate  the  glories  of  many  cities  in  verse  which 
was  truly  Panhellenic. 

Pindar  is  said  to  have  received  his  first  lessons  in  flute-  UU 
playing  from  one  Sco;jelinus  at  Thebes,  and  afterwards  to 
have  studied  at  Athens  under  the  musicians  ApoUodorus 
(or  Agathocles)  and  Lasus  of  Hermione.  In  his  youth',  as 
the  story  went,  he  was  defeated  in  a  poetical  contest  by 
the  Theban  Corinna — who,  in  reference  to  his  use  of 
Theban  mythology,  is  said  to  have  advised  him  "  to-  sow  '■ 
with  the  hand,  not  with  the  sack."  There  is  an  extant 
fragment  in  which  Corinna  reproves  another  Theban 
poetess,  !Myrto,  "  for  that  she,  a  woman,  contended  with 
Pindar  "  (ori  /3ava  (JMvcr  tySa  UivSapoio  iroT  ipiv) — a  senti- 
ment, it  may  be  remarked,  which  does  not  well  accord 
with  the  story  of  Corinna's  own  victory.  The  facts  that 
stand  out  from  these  meagre  traditions  are  that  Pindfir 
was  precocious  and  laborious.  Preparatory  labour  of  a 
somewhat  severe  and  complex  kind  was,  indeed,  indispens-' 
able  for  the  Greek  lyric  poet  of  that  age.  Lyric  composi- 
tion demanded  studies  not  only  in  metre  but  in  music, 
and  in  the  adaptation  of  both  to  the  intricate  movements 
of  the  choral  dance  {opxTjaruci^.  Several  passages,  in 
Pindar's  extant  odes  glance  at  tLe  long  technical  develop- 
ment of  Greek  IjtIc  poetry  before  his  time,  and  at  the 
various  elements  of  art  which  the  lyrist  was  required  to 
temper  into  a  harmonious  whole  (see,  e.g.,  01.  iiL  8,  vL  91, 
ix.  1,  xiv.  15,  xiii.  18  ;  Pytk.  xiL  23,  <tc.).  The  earliest 
ode  whidh  can  be  dated  (Pytk.  x.)  belongs  to  the  twentieth 
year  of  Pindar's  age  (502  B.C.);  the  latest  (Olymp.  v.)  to 
the  seventieth  (452  B.C.).  He  visited 'the  court  of  Hiero  at 
Syracuse  ;  Theron,  the  despot  of  Acragas,  also  entertained 
him  ;  and  his  travels  perhaps  included  Cyrene.  Tradition 
notices  the  special  closeness  of  his  relations  with  Delphi: 
"  He  was  greatly  honoured  by  all  the  Greeks,  because  he 
was  so  beloved  of  Apollo  that  he  even  received  a  share  of  the 
offerings;  and  at  the  sacrifices' the  priest  would  cry  aloud 
that  Pindar  come  in  to  the  feast  of  the  god."^  He  is  said  to 
have  died  at  Argos,  at  the  age  of  seventy-nine,  in  443  rc- 

'  UifStipou  yiv<t,  in  ed.  Aid.:  irinfi8i\  54  <r4>iipa  irh  riyray  t£» 
EAA^j'wi' 5(a  T^  i/irhrov'AiedWuvos  ovru  ptXttffSat  us ,  Koi  fttpiSa 
tUv  irpociptpafiivav  rf  Sifi  Kafi$dyety,  ical  r.hy  Upla  0oay  iy  reus 
Outrtais  TllvSapoy  4k\  ri  ietiFyoy  rov  6eov. 


J 


PINDAR 


99 


Among  the  Greeks  of  his  own  and  later  times,  Pindar 
was  pre-eminently  distinguished  for  his  piety  to\Yards  the 
gods  (eiire/3/oTOTos,  (met.  vit.).  He  tells  us  that,  "  near  to 
the  vestibule  "  of  his  house  (Trap'  i/Jiov  irpoOvpov,  Pyth.  iii. 
77),  choruses  of  maidens  used  to  dance  and  sing  by 
night  in  praise  of  the  Mother  of  the  Gods  (Cybcle)  and 
Pan — deities  peculiarly  associated  with  the  Phrygian 
music  of  the  flute,  in  which  other  members  of  Pindar's 
family  besides  the  poet  himself  are  said  to  have  excelled. 
A  statue  and  shrine  of  Cybele,  which  he  dedicated  at 
Thebes,  were  the  work  of  the  Theban  artists,  Aristomedes 
and  Socrates.  He  also  dedicated  at  Thebes  a  statue  to 
Hermes  Agoraios,  and  another,  by  Calamis,  to  Zeus 
Amnion.  The  latter  god  claimed  his  especial  veneration 
because  Cyrene,  one  of  the  homes  of  his  vEgid  ancestry, 
stood  "where  Zeus  Ammon  hath  his  seat,"  i.e.,  near  the 
oasis  and  temple  (Aios  iv' kp.ji.wvo';  Qcp-iGkovi,  Pylh.  iv.  16). 
The  author  of  one  pf  the  Greek  lives  of  Pindar  says  that, 
when  Pausanias  the  king  of  the  Lacedasmonians  was 
burning  Thebes,  some  one  wrote  on  Pindar's  house,  '  Burn 
not  the  house  of  Pindar  the  poet ;'  and  thus  it  alone 
escaped  destruction."  This  incident,  of  which  the  occasion 
is  not  further  defined,  has  been  regarded  as  a  later  inven- 
tion.i  Better  attested,  at  least,  is  the  similar  clemency  of 
Alexander  the  Great,  when  he  sacked  Thebes  one  hundred 
and  eight  years  after  the  traditional  date  of  Pindar's  death 
(SS.")  B.C.).  He  spared  only  (1)  the  Cadmeia,  or  citadel, 
of  Thebes  (thenceforth  to  be  occupied  by  a  Macedonian 
garrison);  (2)  the  temi;les  and  holy  places;  and  (3) 
Pindar's  house.  While  the  inhabitants  were  sold  into 
slavery,  exception  was  made  only  of  (1)  priests  and 
priestesses ;  (2)  per.sons  who  had  been  connected  by 
private  ^ivia.  with  Philip  or  Alexander,  or  by  public  ^evla 
with  the  Macedonians;  (3)  Pindar's  descendants.  It  is 
probable  enough,  as  Dio  Chrysostom  suggests  (ii.  33,  25), 
that  Alexander  was  partly  moved  by  personal  gratitude 
to  a  poet  who  had  celebrated  his  ancestor  Alexander  I.  of 
Macedon.  But  he  must  have  been  also,  or  chiefly,  influ- 
enced by  the  sacredness  which  in  tlie  eyes  of  all  Hellenes 
surrounded  Pindar's  memory,  not  only  as  that  of  a  great 
national  poet,  but  also  as  that  of  a  man  who  had  stood  in 
a  specially  close  relation  to  the  gods,  and,  above  all,  to  the 
Deipliian  Apollo.'^  Upwards  of  six  hundred  years  after 
Pindar's  death,  the  traveller  Pausanias  saw  an  iron  chair 
which  was  preserved  among  the  .most  precious  treasures 
of  the  temple  in  the  sanctuary  at  Delphi.  It  was  the 
chair,  he  was  told,  "  in  which  Pindar  used  to  sit,  whenever 
he  came  to  Delphi,  and  to  chant  those  of  his  songs  which 
certain  to  Apollo." 

During  the  second  half  of  Pindar's  life,  Athens  was 
rising  to  tiiat  supremacy  in  literature  and  art  which  was 
to  prove  more  lasting  than  her  political  primacy.  Pindar 
did  not  live  to  see  the  Parthenon,  or  to  witness  the  mature 
triumphs  of  Sophocles ;  but  he  know  the  sculpture  of 
Calamis,  and  he  may  have  known  the  masterpieces  of 
/Eschylus.  It  is  interesting  to  note  the  feeling  of  this 
great  Theban  poet,  who  stands  midway  between  Homeric 
epos  and  Athenian  drama,  towards  the  Athens  of  which 
Thebes  was  so  often  the  bitterest  foe,  but  with  which  he 
liimscif  had  so  large  a  measure  of  s|)iritual  kinship.  A 
few  words  remainfrom  a  dithyramb  in  which  he  paid  a 
glowing  tribute  to  those  "  sons  of  Athens  "  who  "  laid  the 
shining  foundations  of  freedom  "  (7raiSt9  ' KQavoiimv  ((SoXoito 


'*  Schacfei",  Demosthaxes  und  seine  Zeit,  iii.  119. 
'  II  will  1)0  reiiinikcd  that  liistory  requires  us  to  modify'tlloTllito- 
DieDt  ia*  Wilton's  faiiioufl  lines: — 

*'  Tlip  (front  PCmnlttlnn  coiKinpror  bntic  Bpara 
The  house  of  I'lndai'us,  uliiin  temple  and  tower 
^  Went  to  the  croufirt." 

rhrti-ert",  tlie  point  of  tlie  incident  depends  mncli  on  tlio  f.icl  tliol  tho' 
temulcs  aud  t^ndai'u  house  were  classed  together  for  exemption. 


<f)atwa.v  Kpr]m&'  iX.iv6(p(a<;,  fr.  77,  Bergk,  4th  ed.),  while 
Athens  itself  is  thus  invoked  : — w  toI  Xnrapai  Koi  loaTt^apot 
Koi  aoiSi/jioi,  'EAAaOos  Ipua-fia,  kXuvoX  'KOavai,  Sai/xoyiov 
TTToXitOpov.  Isocrates,  writing  in  353  B.C.,  states  that  the 
phrase  'EXXaSos  Ipctcr/ia,  "stay  of  Hellas,"  so  greatly 
gratified  the  Athenians  that  they  conferred  on  Pindar  the 
high  distinction  of  Trpofma  (i.e.,  appointed  him  honorary 
consul,  as  it  were,  for  Athens  at  Thebes),  besides  present- 
ing him  with  a  large  sum  of  money  (Aniid.  §  16G).  One 
of  the  letters  of  the  pseudo-vEschines  (Ep.  iv.)  gives  an 
improbable  turn  to  the  story  by  saying  that  the  Thebana 
had  fined  Pindar  for  his  praise  of  Athens,  and  that  tho 
Athenians  repaid  him  twice  the  sum.^  The  notice  pre- 
served by  Isocrates — less  than  one  hundred  years  after 
Pindar's  death — is  good  warrant  for  the  belief  that  Pindar 
had  received  some  exceptional  honours  from  Athens. 
Pausanias  saw  a  statue  of  Pindar  at  Athens,  near  the 
temple  of  Ares  (i.  8,  4).  Besides  the  fragment  just 
mentioned,  several  passages  in  Pindar's  extant  odes 
bespeak  his  love  for  Athens.  Its  name  is  almost  always 
joined  by  him  with  some  epithet  of  praise  or  reverence. 
In  alluding  to  the  great  battles  of  the  Persian  wars,  while 
he  gives  the  glory  of  Platsea  to  the  Spartans,  he  assigns 
that  of  Salamis  to  the  Athenians  (I't/th.  i.  76).  In  cele- 
brating the  Pythian  victory  of  the  Athenian  Megaclcs,  he 
begins  thus : — "  Fairest  of  preludes  is  the  renown  of 
Athens  for  the  mighty  race  of  tho  Alcmjeonidse.  What 
home,  or  what  house,  could  I  call  mine  by  a  name  that 
should  sound  more  glorious  for  Hellas  to  hear!"  Eefer- 
ring  to  the  fact  that  an  .^ginetan  victor  in  the  games  had 
been  trained  by  an  Athenian,  he  says — xpr]  &'  a-r  'AOavav 
TiKTov  aOXijToicTLv  ijjLp.ev  (Nevi.  v.  40) ;  "  meet  it  is  that  a 
shaper  of  athletes  should  come  from  Athens  " — where, 
recollecting  how  often  Pindar  compares  the  poet's  efforts 
to  the  athlete's,  we  may  well  believe  that  he  was  thinking 
of  his  own  early  training  at  Athens  under  Lasus  of 
Hermion?. 

Pindar's  versatility  as  a  lyric  poet  is  one  of  the  WorVa,. 
characteristics  remarked  by  Horace  {Carvi.  iv.  2),  and  is 
proved  by  the  fragments,  though  the  poems  which  have 
come  down  entire  represent  only  one  class  of  compositions 
— the  Epinicia,  or  odes  of  victory,  commemorating  suc- 
cesses in  the  great  games.  The  lyric  types  to  which  tins 
fragments  belong,  though  it  cannot  be  assumed  that  thp 
list  is  complete,  are  at  least  numerous  and  varied. 

1.  "T/ufoi,  Hipnns  to  deities — as  to  Zeus  Amnion,  to  rcrseplione, 
to  Foituiio.  TJiu  fragmentary  vpivos  entitled  &n0aiois  sei'ms  to 
liave  celebrated  the  deities  of  'i'hebcs.  2.  Xlatavis,  I'waiix,  e.xfiies- 
siiig  prayer  or  prai.se  for  tlio  help  of  a  protecting  god,  especially 
Apollo,  Artemis,  or  Zeus.  S.  AiBipafxPai,  Dithyrambs,  ones  of  a 
lofty  and  impassioned  strain,  sung  by  clioruscs  in  bonour  ot 
l)ionysii3  (cp.  Tind.,  01.  xiii.  18,  toI  Aicuniffou  jro'flei»  {{•'^ai'ti' 
aiiy  Por)\iT(f  Xdptrts  Si8vpd/j.$iii, — where  Tindar  alludes  to  tli« 
choral  form  given  to  the  dithyramb,  circ.  COO  b.c,  by  Ariou, — 
$oijXiTi)t,  "ox-driving,"  perhaps  meaning  "winning  an  ox  ns 
]irizo").  4.  TipoaiSia,  Processional  Souff.i,  clmial  chants  for 
worshippers  approaching  a  shrine.  One  was  wiiiten  by  Pindar 
for  tho  Dclians,  another  for  tho  .Sginetaiis.  6.  napOt'na,  Cliora^ 
Sonrjs  for  Maidens.  The  reference  in  find,  rijlh.  iii.  77  to 
maidens  worshipping  Cybcle  and  Pan  near  the  poet's  lionso  u 
illustrated  by  the  fact  tliat  one  of  these  Urtpfina  invoked  "  Pan,' 
lord  of  Arcadia,  attendant  of  tho  Great  Jlother,  watclior  of  inn 
awful  shrine"  (fr.  95,  Bergk).  6.  'TiropvijMaTO,  Chornl  I'anct- 
Songs,  adapted  to  a  lively  movement,  iiseii  from  an  early  date  in 
the  cult  of  Apollo,  and  afterwards  in  that  of  other  pods,  espcrinllj 
Dionysus.  To  this  class  belongs  one  of'tlio  lincst  fmgmenls  (107), 
written  for  tho  Thebans  in  connexion  with  pronitiatoiy  litcs  afte* 
an  eclipse  of  the  sun,  jirobably  that  of  April  30,  4(i3  U.o.  7 
'E7Ka'nio,  Songs  of  Trtiisi-  (for  men,  while  i'/ii-oi  were  for  gods),  td 
bo  sung  by  a  kcJ^oj,  or  festal  ronipany.  In  'strictness  iynuitioi 
was  tho  genus  of  which  iwirlKiov  was  a  speeicB  ;  but  tho  latter  it 
moro  conveniently  treated  ns  a  distinct  kind.  I'indar  wrot< 
encomia  for  Theron,  dcsj'ot  of  Acrngas,  aud  for  Alexander  1.  (sob 
of  Amyntas),  king  of  ^^acedon.      8.   ^K6\m,  Festal  Songs.      Th« 

•  Compare  Jcbb,  Attit  Orat"  s,  vol.  ii.  p.  143. 


100 


PINDAR 


usual  sense  of  tritiXiov  is  a  diiiilsing-song,  talcen  up  by  one  g\iest 
after  another  at  a  banquet.  But  Pindar's  o-KiJAia  were  choral  and 
antistrophic.  One  was  to  be  sung  at  Corinth  by  a  cliorus  of  the 
Up6Sov\ot  attached  to  the  temple  of  Aplirodito  Ourania,  when  a 
certain  Xenophon  offered  sacrifice  before  going  to  compete  at 
Olympia.  Another  brilliant  fragment,  for  Theoxenus  of  Tenedos, 
has  an  erotic  character.  9.  Opijyoi,  Dirges,  to  be  sung  witli  clioral 
dance  and  the  music  of  the  flute,  either  at  tho  burial  of  the  dead  or 
in  commemorative  rituals.  Some  of  the  most  beautiful  fragments 
belong  to  this  class  (129-133).  One  of  the  smaller  fragments  (137) 
- — in  memory  of  an  Athenian  who  had  been  initiated  into  the 
Eleusinian  mysteries  {ISwr  Ki'ma) — has  been  conjccturally  leferred 
to  the  QpTJyos  wliich  Pindar  is  said  to  have  written  (scho!.  Pyth. 
vii.  18)  for  Hippocrates,  the  grandfather  of  Pericles.  A  number  of 
small  fragments,  which  cannot  be  certainly  classified,  are  usually 
given  as  y{  a5i7\aji/  eiSuc,  "of  uncertain  class."  On  comparing  tho 
above  list  with  Horace,  Carm.iv.  2,  it  will  bo  seen  that  he  alhulrs 
to  No.  3  (ditliyrambos) ;  to  Nos.  1,  2,  and  7  {scu  dcos  rcgcsve  canil); 
and  to  No.  9  {Jlchill  sponsse  ju-vciiemve  rdpiniii  Plorat), — as  well  as 
to  the  extant  Epinicin  [she  ouos  Eka  domum  rcducil  Pahna 
csdcstcs). 

The  Epinicia. — The  cViviKia  (sc.  ixiX-q),  or  i-mvLKioi.  (sc. 
v/xvoi),  "Odes  of  Victory,"  forirl  a  collection  of  forty- 
four  odes,  traditionally  divided  into  four  books,  answering 
to  the  four  great  festivals:— (1)  'OXu/aTrionxai  (k.  v/ivol): 
fourteen  odes  for  winners  of  the  wild  olive-wreath  in  the 
Olympian  games,  held  at  Olympia  in  honour  of  Zeus 
ones  in  four  years;  (2)  ITv^'ioi'iKat :, twelve  odes  for  win- 
ners of  the  laurel-wreath  in  the  Pythian  games  held  at 
Delphi  in  honour  of  Apollo,  once  in  four  years,  the  third 
of  each  Olympiad;  (3)  Nc^aeoi'i'Kat :  seven  odes  for  winners 
of  the  pine-wreath  in  the  Nemean  games,  held  at  Nemea, 
in  lignour  of  Zeus,  once  in  two  years,  the  second  and 
fourth  of  each  Olympiad ;  and  (4)  'lo-d/xiovT-ai :  eleven 
odes  for  winners  of  the  parsley  wreath  in  the  Isthmian 
games,  held  at  the  Isthmus  of  Corinth,  in  honour  of 
Poseidon,  once  in  two  years,  the  first  and  third  of  each 
Olympiad.  The  Greek  way  of  citing  an  ode  is  by  the 
nomin.  plur.  followed  by  the  numeral,  e.y.,  "  the  ninth 
Olympian  "  is  'OXvjlTrwviKai  & .  The  chronological  range 
of  the  collection  (so  far  as  ascertainable)  is  from  502  B.C. 
{Pytli.  X.)  to  452  B.C.  {01.  v.).  With  respect  to  the  native 
places  of  the  victors,  the  geographical  distribution  is  as 
follows  : — for  the  mainland  of  Greece  proper,  13  odes  ;  for 
>Egina,  11  ;  for  Sicily,  15  ;  for  the  Epizephyrian  Locrians 
(southern  Italy),  2  ;  for  Cyrene  (Africa),  3. 

The  general  characteristics  of  the  odes  may  be  briefly 
considered  under  the  following  heads  : — (1)  language  ;  (2) 
treatment  of  theme ;  (3)  sentiment — religious,  moral,  and 
political ;  (4)  relation  to  contemporary  art. 

1.  The  diction  of  Pindar  is  distinct  in  character  from 
that  of  every  other  Greek  poet,  being  almost  everywhere 
marked  by  the  greatest  imaginative  boldness.  Thus  (a) 
metaphor  is  used  even  for  the  expression  of  common  ideas, 
or  tho  translation  of  familiar  phrases,  as  when  a  cloak  is 
called  ivhiavov  ijidpfxaKov  avpav  {01.  ix.  104),  "a  warm 
remedy  for  winds."  (i)  Images  for  the  highest  excellence 
are  drawn  from  the  furthest  limits  of  travel  or  navigation, 
or  from  the  fairest  of  natural  objects;  as  when  the" 
euperlative  hospitality  of  a  man  who  kept  open  house 
all  tho  year  round  is  described  by  saying,  "  far  as  to 
Phasis  was  his  voyage  in  summer  days,  and  -in  winter 
to  tho  shores  of  Nile  "  {Isthm.  ii.  42)  ;  or  when  Olympia, 
the  "  crown  "  {Kopv<f>a.)  or  flower  (awros)  of  festivals,  is 
said  to  be  excellent  as  water,  bright  as  gold,  brilliant  as 
the  noonday  sun  {01.  i.  ad  init.).  This  trait  might  be 
called  the.  Pindaric  imagery  of  the  superlative.  {c) 
Poetical  inversion  of  ordinary  phrase  is  frequent ;  as, 
instead  of,  "ho  struck  fear  into  the  beasts,"  "he  gave  tlie 
beasts  to  fear"  {Pyth.  v  56).  {d)  The  efforts  of  the  poet's 
genius  are  represented  under  an  extraordinary  number 
of  similitudes,  borrowed  from  javelin-throwing,  chariot, 
driving,  leaping,  rowing,  sailing,  ploughing,  building, 
shooting  with  the  bow,  sharpening  a  knife  on  a  whetstone, 


mixing  wine  in  a  bowl,  and  many  more.  («)  Homely 
images,  from  common  life,  are  not  rare ;  as  from  account- 
keeping,  usury,  sending  merchandise  over  sea,  the  o-KirroAif 
or  secret  despatch,  A-c.  And  we  have  such  homely  pro- 
verbs as,  "  he  hath  his  foot  in  this  shoe,"  i.e.,  stands  in 
this  case  {01.  vi.  8).  (/)  The  natural  order  of  words  in  a 
sentence  is  often  boldly  deranged,  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  syntax  is  seldom  difficult,  {g)  Words  not  found 
except  in  Pindar  are  numerous,  many  of  these  being  com- 
pounds which  (like  Ivapi^pporo^,  KaTar^vWopo^lv,  Ac.) 
suited  the  dactylic  metres  in  their  Pindaric  combina- 
tions. Horace  was  right  in  speaking  of  Pindar's  "  nova 
verba,"  though  they  were  not  confined  to  the  "bold 
dithyrambs. "  « 

2.  The  actual  victory  which  ^ave  occasion  for  the  odeTrea*. 
is  seldom  treated  at  length  or  in  detail, — which,  indeed,  Seme 
only  exceptional  incidents  could  justify.     Pindar's  method 

is  to  take  some  heroic  myth,  or  group  of  myths, 
connected  with  the  victor's  city  or  family,  and,  after 
a  brief  prelude,  to  enter  on  this,  returning  at  the 
close,  as  a  rule,  to  the  subject  of  the  victor's  merit  or  good 
fortune,  and  interspersing  the  whole  with  moral  comment. 
Thus  the  fourth  Pythian  is  for  Arcesilas,  king  of  Cyrene, 
which  was  said  to  have  been  founded  by  men  of  Thera, 
descendants  of  one  of  Jason's  comrades.  Using  this  link, 
Pindar  introduces  his  splendid  narrative  of  the  Argonauts. 
JIany  odes,  again,  contain  shorter  mythical  episodes, — (as 
the  birth  of  lamus  {01.  vi),  or  the  vision  of  Bellerophon 
{01.  xiii), — which  form  small  pictures  of  masterly  finish 
and  beauty.  Particular  notice  is  due  to  the  skill  with 
which  Pindar  often  manages  the  return  from  a  mythical 
digression  to  his  immediate  theme.  It  is  bold  and  swift,  yet 
is  not  felt  as  harshly  abrupt — justifying  his  own  phrase  at 
one  such  turn,  Kai  riva  oTfiov  loxt/ii  jspa^vv  {Pyth.  iv.  247). 
It  has  been  thought  that,  in  the  parenthesis  about  the 
Amazons'  shields  {quibtis  Mos  wide  deductus  .  .  .  quserere 
distuli,  Cami.  iv.  4,  17),  Horace  was  imitating  a  Pindaric 
transition  ;  if  so,  he  has  illustrated  his  own  observation  as 
to  the  peril  of  imitating  the  Theban  poet. 

3.  (a)  The  religious  feeling  of  Pindar  is  strongly  marked  Senti. 
in  the  odes.  "  From  the  gods  are  all  means  of  human  "?*"' 
excellence."  fle  will  not  believe  that  the  gods,  when  they  *  " 
dined  with  Tantalus,  ate  his  son  Pelops ;  rather  Poseidon  ngioo 
carried  oS  the  youth  to  Olympus.  That  is,  his  reason  for  ^ 
rejecting  a  scandalous  story  about  the  gods  is  purely 
religious,  as  distinct  from  moral ;  it  shocks  his  conception 
of  the  divine  dignity.  With  regard  to  oracles,  he 
inculcates  precisely  such  a  view  as  would  have  been  most 
acceptable  to  the  Delphic  priesthood,  viz.,  that  the  gods 
do  illumine  their  prophets,  but  that  human  wit  can 
foresee  nothing  which  the  gods  do  not  choose  to  reveal. 
A  mystical  doctrine  of  the  soul's  destiny  after  death 
appears  in  some  passages  (as  01.  ii.  66  sq.).  Pindar 
was  familiar  with  the  idea  of  metempsychosis  (cp. 
ib.  83),  but  the  attempt  to  trace  Pythagoreanism  in 
some  phrases  {Pyth.  ii.  34,  iii.  74)  appears  unsafe. 
The  belief  in  a  fully  .conscious  existence  for  the  soul 
in  a  future  state,  determined  by  the  character  of  the 
earthly  life,  entered  into  the  teaching  of  the  Eleusinian 
and  other  mysteries.  Comparing  the  fragment  of  the 
Qpy^vos  (no.  137,  Bergk),  we  may  probably  regard  the 
mystic  or  esoteric  element  in  Pindar's  theology  as  due 
to  such  a  source. 

{h)  The  moral  sentiment  pervading  Pindar's  odes  rests  it 
on  a  constant  recognition  of  the  limits  imposed  by  the 
divine  will  on  human  effort,  combined  with  strenuous 
exhortation  that  each  man  shotjld  strive  to  reach  the 
limit  allowed  in  his  own  case.  Native  •  temperament 
(<^u7i)  is  the  grand  source  of  all  human  excellence 
{apiTTj),  while  such  excelleaces  as  can  be  acquired  hj 


PINDAR 


JUL 


study  (SiSoKTol  ap(Tai,  01.  is.  100)  are  of  relatively  small 
scope — the  sentiment,  we  may  remark,  of  one  whose 
thoughts  were  habitually  conversant  with  the  native  quali- 
ties of  a  poet  on  the  one  hand  and  of  an  athlete  on  the 
other.  The  elements  of  vyiW  oA^os — "sane  happiness," 
such  as  has  least  reason  to  dread  the  jealousy  of  the  gods, 
—  are  substance  sufficing  for  daily  wants  and  good  repute 
(euAoyto).  He  who  has  these  should  not  "  seek  to  be 
a  god.".  "  Wealth  set  with  virtues "  (ttXovtos  apeTais 
SeSotSoA/Lip'os),  as  gold  with  precious  gems,  is  the  most 
fortunate  lot,  because  it  affords  the  amplest  opportunities 
for  honourable  activity.  Pindar  does  not  rise  above  the 
ethical  standard  of  an  age  which  said,  "  love  thy  friend 
and  hate  thy  foe "  (cp.  Pytk.  ii.  83 ;  Isthm.  iii.  65). 
But  in  one  sense  he  has  a  moral  elevation  which  is 
distinctively  his  own ;  he  is  the  glowing  prophet  of 
generous  emulation  and  of  reverent  self-control. 

{c)  The  political  sentiments  of  the  Theban  poet  are 
suggested  by  Pi/tk.  xi.  53 ;  "  In  polities  I  find  the 
middle  state  crowned  with  more  enduring  good ;  there- 
fore praise  I  not  the  despot's  portion ;  those  virtues 
move  my  zeal-  which  serve  the  folk."  If  in  Pyth.  ii.  86  a 
democracy  is  described  as  6  Xa/3pos  oTparos,  "  the  raging 
crowd,"  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  ode  is  for  Hierq  of 
Syracuse,  and  that  the  phrase  clearly  refers  to  the  violence 
of  those  democratic  revolutions  which,  in  the  early  part  of 
the  5th  century  B.C.,  more  than  once  convulsed  Sicilian 
cities.  At  Thebes,  after  the  Persian  wars,  a  "constitu- 
tional oligarchy "  (dXiyap^^i'a  icrop'o/ios,  Thuc.  iii.  62)  had 
replaced  the  narrower  and  less  temperate  oligarchy  of 
former  days  (Swaoreia  ov  ixirh.  voyxoiv) ;  and  in  this  we 
may  probably  recognize  the  phase  of  Greek  political  life 
most  congenial  to  Pindar.  He  speaks  of  a  king's  lot  as 
unique  in  its  opportunities  {01,  i.  113)  ;  he  sketches  the 
charactei;  of  an  ideal  king  {Pyth.  iii.  71) ;  but  nothing  in 
his  poetry  implies  liking  for  the  Tvpavvi's  as  a  form  of 
government.  Towards,  the  Greek  princes  of  Sicily  and 
Cyrene  his  tone  is  ever  one  of  manly  independence ;  he 
apeaks  as  a  Greek  citizen  whose  lineage  places  him  on  a 
level  with  the  proudest  of  the  Dorian  race,  and  whose 
office  invests  him  with  an  almost  sacred  dignity.  In 
regard  to  the  politics  of  Hellas  at  largo,  Pindar  makes 
MB  feel  the  new  sense  of  leisure  for  quiet  pursuits  and 
civilizing  arts  which  came  after  the  Persian  wars.  He 
honours  "Tranquillity,  the  friend  of  cities"  ('Ao-D^ia 
<^iA.o7ro\(s,  01.  iv.  16).  The  epic  poet  sang  of  wars; 
Pindar  celebrates  the  "  rivalries  of  peace." 
1  4.  Pindar's  genius  was  boldly  original ;  at  the  same  time 
he  was  an  exquisite  artist.  "  Mine  bo  it  to  invent  new 
strains,  mine  the  skill  to  hold  my  course  in  the  chariot  of 
the  Muses;  and  may  courage  go  with  me,  and  power  of 
ample  grasp  {roXixa  St  koX  djj.(f>i\a(j>yj';  8wa/nt9  ftTTTOiTO,  01. 
ix.  80).  Hero  we  see  the  exulting  sense  of  inborn  strength ; 
in  many  other  places  we  perceive  the  feeling  of  conscious 
art — as  in  the  phrase  hmhaXXuv,  so  apt  for  his  method  of  in- 
laying an  ode  with  mythical  subjects,  or  when  he  compares 
the  opening  of  a  song  to  the  front  of  a  stately  building 
(01.  vi.  3).  Pindar's  sympathy  with  external  nature  was 
deeper  and  keener  than  is  often  discernible  in  the  poetry 
of  his  age.  It  appears,  for  example,  in  his  welcome  of  the 
season  when  "  the  chamber  of  the  Hours  is  opened,  and 
delicate  plants  perceive  the  fragrant  spring  "  (fr.  75)  ;  in 
the  passage  where  Jason  invokes  "  the  rushing  strength  of 
waves  and  winds,  and  the  nights,  and  the  paths  of  the 
deep"  {Pyth.  iv.  194);  in  the  lines  on  the  eclipse  of  the 
Bun  (fr.  107);  and  in  the  picture  of  the  eruption,  when 
Etna,  "  pillar  of  the  sky,  nurse  of  keen  snow  all  the  year," 
sends  forth  "  pure  springs  of  fire  unapproachable  "  {Pyth. 
i.  20).  The  poet's  feeling  for  colour  is  often  noticeable, 
— as  in  the  beautiful  story  of  the  birth  of  lamus — when 


Evadne  lays  aside  her  silver  pitclier  and  her  girdle  ot 
scarlet  web ;  the  babe  is  found,  "  its  delicate  body  steepe<^ 
in  the  golden  and  deep  purple  rays  of  pansics  "  {01.  vi.  55)j 

The  spirit  of  art,  in  every  form,  is  represented  for  PindaB 
by  X"P'5 — "  'te  source  of  all  delights  to  mortals  "  {01. 
i.  30) — or  by  the  personified  Charites  (Graces).  '  The 
Charites  were  often  represented  as  young  maidens,  decking 
themselves  with  early  flowers — the  rose,  in  particular, 
being  sacred  to  them  as  well  as  to  Aphrodite.  In  Pindar's 
mind,  as  in  the  old  Greek  conception  from  which  the 
worship  of  the  Charites  sprang,  the  instinct  of  beautiful 
art  was  inseparable  from  the  sense  of  natural  beauty.  The 
period  from  500  to  460  B.C.,  to  which  most  of  Pindar's 
extant  odes  belong,  marked  a  stage  in  the  development  of 
Greek  sculpture.  The  schools  of  Argos,  Sicyon,  and  JE,g\x^ 
were  effecting  a  transition  from  archaic  types  to  the  art 
which  was  afterwards  matured  in  the  age  of  Phidias.' 
Olympia  forms  the  central  link  between  Pindar's  poetry 
and  Greek  sculpture.  From  about  560  ij.c.  onwards, 
sculpture  had  been  applied  to  the  commemoration  o{ 
athletes,  chiefly  at  Olympia.  In  a  striking  passage  {Kent. 
V.  ad  init.)  Pindar  recognizes  sculpture  and  poetry  as  sister 
arts  employed  in  the  commemoration  of  the  athlete,  and 
contrasts  the  merely  local  effect  of  the  statue  with  the 
wide  diffusion  of  the  poem.  "  No  sculptor  I,  to  fashion 
images  that  shall  stand  idly  on  one  pedestal  for  aye  ;  no, 
go  thou  forth  from  jEgina,  sweet  song  of  mine,  on  every 
freighted  ship,  on  each  light  bark."  Many  particular 
subjects  were  common  to  Pindar  aiid  contemporary  sculp- 
ture. Thus  (1)  the  sculptures  on  the  east  pediment  of  the 
temple  at  .^gina  represented  Heracles  coming  to  seek  the 
aid  of  Telamon  against  Troy — a  theme  brilliantly  treated 
by  Pindar  in  the  fifth  Isthmian  ;  (2)  Hiero's  victory  in  the 
chariot-race  was  commemorated  at  Olympia  by  the  joint 
work  of  the  sculptors  Onatas  and  Calamis  ;  (3)  the  Gigan- 
tomachia,  (4)  the  wedding  of  Heracles  and  Hebe,  (5)  the 
war  of  the  Centaurs  with  the  Lapithae,  and  (6)  a  contest 
between  Heracles  and  Apollo  are  instances  of  mythical 
material  treated  alike  by  the  poet  and  by  sculptors  of  Lis 
day.  The  contemporary  improvements  in  town  architecture, 
introducing  spacious  and  well-paved  streets,  such  as  the 
a-KvpiDTT]  oSos  at  Cyrene  {Pyth.  v.  87),  suggest  his  frequent 
comparison  of  the  paths  of  song  to  broad  and  stately 
causeways  {wXaTtiai  fl-poo-oSot^cxaTo/iirtSot  Ki^cvOoi,  i\  em. 
vi.  47,  v.  22).  A  song  is  likened  to  cunning  work  which 
blends  gold,  ivory,  and  coral  {Neni.  vii.  78).  Pindar's  feel- 
ing that  poetry,  though  'essentially  a^  divine  gift,  has  a 
technical  side  {<To<^ia),  and  that  on  this  side  it  has  had  an 
historical  development  like  that  of  other  arts,  is  forcibly 
illustrated  by  his  reference  to  tho  inventions  (croi^iV/iaTo) 
for  which  Corinth  had  early  been  famous.  He  instances 
(1)  tho  development  of  the  dithyramb,  (2)  certaiif  im- 
provements in  the  harnessing  and  driving  of  horses,  and 
(3)  the  addition  of  the  pediment  to  temples  {01.  xiii.). 

In  the  development  of  Greek  lyric  poetrj'  two  periods  are 
broadly  distinguished.  During  tho  first,  from  about  600 
to  500  B.C.,  lyric  poetry  is  local  or  tribal — as  Alcajus  and 
Sappho  write  for  Lesbians,  Alcman  and  Stcsichorus  iot 
Dorians.  During  tho  second  period,  which  takes  its  rise 
in  the  sense  of  Hellenic  unity  created  by  tho  Persian  wars, 
tho  lyric  poet  addresses  all  Greece.  Pindar  and  Simonidcs 
are  the  great  representatives  of  this  second  period,  to 
which  Bacchylides,  tho  nephew  of  Simonides,  also  belongs. 
These,  with  a  few  minor  poets,  arc  classed  by  German 
writers  as  die  ■universalen  Melikcr.  Tho  Greeks  u.sually 
spoke,  not  of  "lyric,"  but  of  "raelic"  poetry  (i.e.,  meant 
to  be  sung,  and  not,  like  tho  epic,  recited)  ;  and  "  uni- 
versal molic  "  is  lyric  poetry  addressed  to  all  Greece.  But 
Pindar  is  more  than  the  chief  extant  lyrist.  Epic,  lyric,' 
and  dramatic  poetry  succeeded  each  other  in  Greek  literal 


102 


PI  N  —  P  I  N 


tare  by  a  nacurai  development.  Each  of  them  was  the 
spontaneous  utterance  of  the  age  which  brought  it  forth. 
In  Pindar  we  can  see  that  phase  of  the  Greek  mind  which 
produced  Homeric  epos  passing  over  into  the  phase  which 
produced  Athenian  drama.  His  spirit  is  often  thoroughly 
dramatic — witness  such  scenes  as  the  interNaew  between 
Jason  and  PeUas  (Pt/th.  iv.),  the  meeting  of  Apollo  and 
Chiron  {Pijth.  ix.),  the  episode  of  Castor  and  Polydeuces 

!Nem.  •  s.),  the  entertainment  of  Heracles  by  Telamon 
1st h 711.  v.).  Epic  narrative  alone  was  no  longer  enough 
for  the  men  who  had  known  that  great  trilogy  of  national 
life,  the  Persian  invasions ;  they  longed  to  see  the  heroes 
moving  and  to  hear  them  speaking.  The  poet  of  Olympia, 
accustomed  to  see  beautiful  forms  in  vivid  action  or  vivid 
art,  was  well  fitted  to  be  the  lyric  interpreter  of  the  new 
dramatic  impulse.  Pindar  has  more  of  the  Homeric  spirit 
than  any  Greek  lyric  poet  known  to  us.  On  the  other 
side,  he  has  a  genuine,  if  less  evident,  kinship  with 
yEschylus  and  Sophocles.  Pindar's  work,  Eke  Olympia 
itself,  illustrates  the  spiritual  unity  of  Greek  art. 
Mann-  The  fact  that  certain  glosses  and  lacunEe  are  common  to  all  our 

scripts     IISS.  of  Pindar  make  it  probable  that  these  MSS.  are  derived  from 
'°<i  a  common  archetype.     Now  the  older  scholia  on  Pindar,  which 

jiiltlons.  gppg^j.  tg  jj.j^.g  'been  compiled  mainly  from  the  commentaries  of 
Didymus  {circ.  15  B.C.),  sometimes  presuppose  a  purer  text  than 
ours.  But  the  compiler  of  these  older  scholia  lived  after  Herodian 
(160  A.D.).  The  archetype  of  our  MSS.,  then,  cannot  have  been 
older  than  the  end  of  the  2d  century.  Our  MSS.  fall  into  two 
general  classes  : — (1)  the  older,  representing  a  text  which,  though 
often  corrupt,  is  comparatively  free  from  interpolations;  (2)  the 
later,  which  exhibit  the  traces  of  a  Byzantine  recension,  ia  other 
words,  of  lawless  conjecture,  down  to  the  14th  or  15th  century. 
To  the  first  class  beloi)g  Parisinus  7,  breaking  off  in  Pyth.  v.; 
Ambrosianus  1,  which  has  only  01.  i.-xii. ;  Mediceus  2;  and  Vati- 
canns  2, — the  two  last-named  being  of  the  highest  value.  The 
ediiio  princeps  is  the  Aldine,  Venice,  1513.  A  modern  study  of 
Pindar  may  be  almost  said  to  have  begun  with  Heyne's  edition 
(1773).  Hermann  did  much  to  advance  Pindaric  criticism.  But 
Augustus  Boeckh  (1811-22),  who  was  assisted  in  the  commentary 
by  L.  Dissen,  is  justly  regarded  as  the  founder  of  a  scientific  treat- 
ment of  the  poet.  The  edition  of  Theodor  Bergk  {Poet.  Lyr.)  is 
marked  by  considerable  boldness  of  conjecture,  as  that  of  Tycho 
Mommsen  (1864)  by  a  sometimes  excessive  adherence  to  JISS.  A 
recension  by  W.  Christ  has  been  published  in  Teubner's  scries 
(1879).  The  edition  of  J.  W.  Donaldson  (Cambridge,  1841)  has 
many  merits;  but  that  of  C.  A.  M.  Fennell  (Cambridge,  1879-83) 
ia  better  adapted  to  the  needs  of  English  students.  The  transla- 
tion into  English  prose  by  Ernest  Myers  (2d  ed. ,  1883)  is  excellent. 
Pindar's  metres  have  been  analysed  by  J.  H.  Schmidt  in  Die 
KiaistformcH  dcr  Griechischen  Pocsie  (Leipsic,  1868-72).  For  esti- 
mates of  Pindar  see  the  histories  of  Greek  literature  by  G.  Bern- 
hardy,  K.  O.  Miiller,  Nicolai,  and  ±  Bnmonf.  (K.  C,  J.) 

PINE  (Pinas,  Gr.  mVus),  a  name  given  by  the 
ancients  to  some  of  the  resinous  cone-bearing  trees  to 
■which  it.  is  now  applied,  and,  as  limited  by  modern 
botanists,  the  designation  of  a  large  genus  of -true  conifers 
{Abietinie),  differing  from  the  firs  in  their  hard  woody 
cone-scales  being  thickened  at  the  apex,  and  in  their 
slender  needle-shaped  leaves  growing  from  a  membranous 
sheath,  either  in  pairs  or  from  three  to  five  together, — 
each  tuft  represe.nting  an  abortive  branch,  springing  from 
the  axil  of  a  partially  deciduous  scale-leaf,  the  base  of 
vvhich  remains  closely  adherent  to  the  stem.  The  numer- 
ous male  catkins  are  generally  arranged  in  dense  whorls 
around  the  bases  of  the  young  shoots ;  the  anther-scales, 
surmounted  by  a  crest-like  appendage,  shed  their  abund- 
ant pollen  by  longitudinal  sUts ;  the  two  ovules  at  the 
base  of  the  inner  side  of  each  fertile  cone-scale  develop 
into  a  pair  of  winged  seeds,  which  drop  from  the  opening 
scales  when  mature — as  in  the  allied  genera. 

The  pines  are  widely  distributed  over  the  north  temperate 
zone,  in  the  southern  portions  chiefly  confined  to  the 
mountains,  along  which,  in  Central  America,  a  few  are 
found  within  the  tropic ;  in  more  northern  regions  they 
frequently  form  extensive  forests,  sometimes  hardly 
mingled  with   other  trees.     Their   soft,  straight-grained, 


resinous,  atid  often  durable  wood  gives  to  many  kinds  a 
high  economic  value,  and  some  are  among  the  most 
esteemed  of  timber  trees. 

Of  the  two-leaved  species,  P.  sylvestris,  the  pine  of 
northern  Europe,  may  be  taken  as  a  type.  When  growing 
in  perfection  it  is  one  of  the  finest  of  the  group,  and 
perhaps  the  most  picturesque  of  forest  trees ;  attaining  a 
height  of  from  70  to  120  feet,  it  is  of  conical  growth 
when  young,  but  in  maturit}'  acquires  a  spreading"  cedal 
or  mushroom-like  top,  with  a  straight  trunk  of  from  2  to 
4  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base,  and  gnarled  twisted  boughs, 
densely  clothed  at  the  extremities  with  glaucous  greeo 
foliage,  which  contrasts  strongly  with  the  fiery  red-brown 
bark.     The  leaves   are   rather  short,   curved,  and   often 


Fig.  1. — Scotch  Fir  {Pintis  si/lveslris).     a,  male  flower  and  young 
cones  ;  b,  male  catkin  ;  c,  d,  outer  and  iuner  side  of  anther-scale. 

twisted ;  the  male  catkins,  in  dense  cylindrical  whorls, 
fill  the  air  of  the  forest  with  their  sulphur-like  pollen  in 
May  or  June,  and  fecundate  the  purple  female  flowers, 
which,  at  first  sessile  and  erect,  then  become  recurved  on 
a  lengthening  stalk  ;  the  ovate  cones,  about  the  length  of 
the  leaves,  do  not  reach  maturity  until  the  autumn  of  the 
following  year,  and  the  seeds  are  seldom  scattered  until 
the  third  spring ;  the  cone  scales  terminate  in  a  pyramidal 
recurved  point,  well-marked  in  the  green  state  and  in 
some  varieties  in  the  mature  cone,  but  in  others  scarcely 
projecting.  P.  st/lvestris  is  found,  in  greater  or  less  abund- 
ance, from  the  hills  of  Finmark  and  the  plains  of  Bothnia 
to  the  mountains  of  Spain  and  even  the  higher  forest-slopes 
of  Etna,  while  in  longitude  its  range  extends  from  the 
shores  of  the  North  Sea  to  Kamchatka.  Nowhere  more 
abundant  than  in  the  Scandinavian  peninsula,  this  tree  is 
the  true  fir  (fur,  furd)  of  the  old  Norsemen,  and  stUl  re- 


PINE 


103 


tains  the  name  among  their  descendants  in  Britain,  though 
botanically  now  classed  as  a  pine.  It  grows  vigorously  in 
Lapland  on  the  lower  ground,  and  is  found  even  at  an 
elevation  of  700  feet,  while  in  south  Norway  it  occurs  up 
to  3000  feet,  though  the  great  forests  from  which 
"  Norway  pine  "  timber  is  chiefly  derived  are  on  the  com- 
paratively lower  slopes  of  the  south-eastern  dales ;  in  the 
highest  situations  it  dwindles  to  a  mere  bush.  In  Germany, 
both  on  the  mountains  and  the  sandy  plains,  woods  of 
"  kiefer"  are  frequent  and  widely  spread,  while  vast  forests 
in  Russia  and  Poland  are  chiefly  composed  of  this  species; 
in  many  northern  habitats  it  is  associated  with  the  spruce 
and  birch.  In  Asia  it  abounds  in  Siberia  and  on  the 
mountains  of  Dahuria ;  on  the  European  Alps  it  occurs  at 
a  height  of  5G00  feet,  and  on  the  Pyrenees  it  is  found  at 
still  higher  elevations ;  on  tho  northern  side  of  Etna  it  is 


Fio.  2. — Scotch  Fir  {Pinus  aylvestrit).  a,  fertile  flower  of  mature 
cone ;  b,  winged  seed ;  c,  fertile  catkin  (or  cone) ;  d,  scale  and 
bract ;  e,  inner  side  of  scale. 

said  to  grow  at  above  7000  feet.  In  Britain  natural 
forests  of  Scotch  fir  of  any  extent  are  only  now  found  in 
the  Highlands,  chiefly  on  the  declivities  of  the  Grampians, 
and  most  of  the  great  woods  have  been  much  curtailed 
in  recent  times,  while  the  larger  trees  aro  generally  felled 
as  soon  as  they  attain  a  timber  size.  In  former  ages  the 
tree  covered  a  large  portion  of  the  more  northern  i)art  of 
the  island,  as  well  as  of  Ireland;  the  numerous  trunks 
found  everywhere  in  the  mosses  and  peat-bogs  of  tho 
northern  counties  of  England  attest  its  abundance  there 
in  prehistoric  times ;  and  in  the  remoter  post-Glacial 
epoch  its  range  was  probably  vastly  more  extended.  Tho 
tree  is  not  at  present  indigenous  in  southern  Britain,  but 
when  planted  in  suitable  ground  multiplies  rapidly  by 
the  wind-so\vn  seeds  ;  on  many  of  tho  eandy  moors  and 
commons  natural  pine  woods  of  large  extent  have  been  thus 
formed  during  tho  last  tifty  years.     The  Scotch  iir  is  a  very 


variable  tree,  and  certain  varieties  have  acquired  a  higher 
reputation  for  the  qualities  of  their  timber  than  others ; 
among  those  most  prized  by  foresters  is  the  one  called  the 
Braemar  pine,  the  remaining  fragments  of  the  great  wood 
in  the  Braemar  district  being  chiefly  composed  of  this  kind ; 
it  is  mainly  distinguished  by  its  shorter  and  more  glaucous 
leaves  and  ovoid  cones  with  blunt  recurved  spines,  and 
especially  by  the  early  horizontal  growth  of  its  ultimately 
drooping  boughs  ;  of  all  varieties  this  is  the  most  pictur- 
esque. On  the  Continent  the  Hagenau  pine  of  Westphalia 
is  esteemed  for  the  straightness  and  good  quality  of  its 
timber.  The  heart^wood  of  the  finer  kinds  of  Scotch  fit 
is  of  a  deep  brownish-red  colour,  abounding  in  the  resin 
to  which  its  durability  is  probably  due.  I'or  all  indoor 
and  most  outdoor  purposes  it  is  as  lasting  as  oak,  and  for 
ship  planking  is  perhaps  little  inferior;  from  its  lightness 
and  elasticity  it  is  well  adapted  for  the  construction  of 
yachts  and  other  small  fast-sailing  craft,  and  is  said  to  be 
the  best  of  all  wood  for  masts  and  large  spars ;  its  weight 
varies  from  30  to  40  tt)  the  cubic  foot.  The  sap-wood  is 
more  perishable,  but  is  useful  for  fences,  casks,  and  a 
variety  of  other  purposes;  soaking  in  lime-water  renders 
it  more  lasting;  great  numbers  of  J'oung  pines  are 
annually  cut  for  railway  sleepers,  mining  timber,  and 
numerous  agricultural  applications ;  large  quantities  are 
consumed  in  forming  the  wood-pavement  which  in  the 
great  towns  is  rapidly  superseding  stone.  Tho  quality  of 
the  timber  depends  greatly  on  the  soil  and  position  in 
which  the  trees  are  grown :  the  dry  slopes  of  granitic  or 
gneissic  mountains,  or  the  deep  well-drained  sandy  gravels 
of  the  lower  country  seem  to  answer  equally  well ;  but  on 
clay  or  wet  peat  the  tree  rarely  flourishes,  and  the. 
timber  is  always  indifferent ;  it  is  usually  said  that  the 
wood  is  best  in  tho  cold  climate  of  its  more  northern 
habitats,  but  the  writer  has  seen  a  trunk  (-1  feet  in 
diameter)  grown  on  the  sands  of  Surrey  with  heart-wood 
quite  equal  to  any  produced  in  Glenmore  or  Eothiemurchus. 
The  rapidity  of  growth  is  still  more  variable :  in  Britain 
full  maturity  is  attained  in  from  seventy  to  one  hundred 
and  twenty  years,  but  in  Norway  the  trunk  increases 
much  more  slowly ;  Schiibeler  states  that  a  tree  felled  in 
tho  Alton  district  (about  70°  lat.),  measuring  2  feet  10 
inches  in  diameter  without  the  bark,  showed  four  hundred 
circles  of  annual  growth.  In  Norway  tho  tree,  growing  in 
dense  forests,  is  generally  of  but  moderate  girth,  and  prob- 
ably this  pine  nowhere  reaches  a  greater  size  than  in  the 
Scottish  woods ;  a  plank  from  Glenmore  forest  measured 
nearly  5i  feet  across,  and  from  3  to  4J  feet  is  not  an 
unusual  diameter  for  a  British  pine  tree. 

Vast  numbers  of  Scotch  firs  are  raised  in  nurseries  for 
artificial  planting ;  the  seed  is  sown  in  the  S[iring,  being 
just  covered  with  earth,  and  the  seedlings  transplanted  in 
the  second  year  into  rows  for  further  culture,  or  taken 
direct  from  the  seed-bed  for  final  planting ;  sometimes  the 
seed  is  sown  where  tho  trees  are  intended  to  grow.  A 
plantation  of  Scotch .  fir  requires  frequent  and  careful 
thinning  as  the  joung  trees  increase  in  size;  but  pruning 
should  bo  avoided  as  much  as  possible,  excepting  for  the 
removal  of  dead  wood.  Plantations  in  England  arc 
generally  ready  for  final  cutting  in  from  sixty  to  seventy 
years,  and  many  are  cleared  at  a  much  earlier  stage  of 
growth.  P.  sytvcstrii  in  Britain  is  liable  to  many  insect 
depredations :  the  pine-chafer,  Jlylnrgus  jiinip'rdn,  is  de- 
structive in  some  places,  tho  larva  of  this  beetle  feeding  on 
the  young  succulent  shoots,  especially  in  young  planta- 
tions ;  Jfytobina  (Metis,  tho  lir-wecvil,  cats  away  the  bark, 
and  numerous  lepidoptcrous  larvas  devour  the  leaves ; 
tho  pine-sawfly  is  also  injurious  in  some  sca.sons ;  the 
removal  of  all  duxul  branches  from  the  trees  and  from  Ihr. 
ground  beneath  them  is  recommended    a.*;  most  of  thes" 


104 


PINE 


?iisect3  lay  their  eggs  among  the  decaying  tark  and  dead 
leaves.  In  England  the  pine  is  largely  employed  as  a 
"nurse"  for  oak  trees,  its  conical  growth  when  young 
admirably  adapting  it  for  this  purpose ;  its  dense  foliage 
Tenders  it  valuable  as  a  shelter  tree  for  protecting  land 
from  the  wind ;  it  stands  the  sea  gales  better  than  most 
conifers,  but  will  not  flourish  on  the  shore  like  some  other 
species.  As  luel  the  wood  of  the  Scotch  fir  is  of  value, 
but  it  makes  too  much  black  smoke  to  form  an  agreeable 
open  fire  ;  the  small  trunks  and  cuttings  of,  plantations 
are  employed  by  the  lime-burner. 

The  pine  is  an  important  tree  in  the  economy  of  the 
northern  nations  of  Europe.  In  Scandinavia  and  Kussia 
houses  are  chiefly  constructed  of  its  timber ;  and  log-huts 
are  made  of  the  smaller  trunks,  and  lined  and  roofed  with 
the  bark.  The  inner  bark  is  twisted  into  ropes,  and,  like 
that  of  the  spruce,  is  kiln  dried,  ground  up,  and  mixed 
with  meal  in  times  of  scarcity ;  in  Kamchatka  it  is 
macerated  in  water,  then  pounded,  and  made  into  a  kind 
of  substitute  for  bread  without  any  admixture  of  flour.  In 
recent  days  the  fibre  of  the  leaves  has  been  extracted  in 
some  quantity  and  applied  to  textile  purposes  under  the 
name  of  waldwoUe,  both  in  Germany  and  Sweden,  It  is 
[irepared  by  boiling  the  needles  in  a  solution  of  soda  to 
remove  the  resin,  which  process  loosens  the  fibre  and 
renders  its  separation  easy ;  it  has  some  resemblance  to 
coarse  wool,  and  is  spun  and  woven  into  blankets  and 
garments  that  are,  said  to  be  warm  and  durable ;  it  is  also 
used  for  stufiing  cushions ;  an  essential  oil,  obtained  by  a 
previous  distillation  of  the  leaves,  has  medicinal  virtues 
attributed  to, it  by  some  German  practitioners. 

Large  quantities  of  turpentine  are  extracted  from  this 
pine  in  Sweden  and  Russia  by  removing  a  strip  of  bark, 
terminating  below  in  a  .deep  notch  cut  in  the  wood,  into 
which  the  turpentine  runs,  and  from  which  it  is  scooped 
as  it  accumulates  ;  but  the  product  is  not  equal  to  that. 
of  the  silver  fir  and  other  species.  Tar  is  prepared  largely, 
from  P.  iylvestris  ;  it  is  chiefly  obtained  from  the  roots, 
which,  mingled  with  a  few  logs,  are  arranged  in  a  conical 
or  funnel-shaped  hollow  made  on  the  steep  side  of  a  .hill 
or  bank ;  after  filling  up,  the  whole  is  covered  with  turf 
and  fired  at  the  top,  when  the  tar  exudes  slowly  and  runs 
into  an  iron  vessel  placed  below,  from  the  spout  of  which 
it  is  conveyed  into  barrels.  Most  of  the  so-called  Stockholm 
tar  is  thus  prepared,  chiefly  in  the  province  of  Bothnia. 

Closely  allied  to  the  Scotch  pine,  and  perliaps  to  be  regarded  as 
a  mere  alpine  form  of  that  species,  is  the  dwarf  P.  Pamilio,  the 
"kmmmholz"  or  "  knieholz"  of  the  Germans, — a  recumbent  busli, 
generally  only  a  few  feet  high,  but  with  long  zigzag  stems,  that 
root  occasionally  at  the  koee-like  bends  where  they  rest  upon  the 
ground.  The  foliage  much  resembles  that  of  the  Scotch  fir,  but 
13  shorter,  denser,  and  more  rigid  ;  the  cones  are  smaller  but 
similar  in  form.  Abounding  on  the  higher  slopes  of  the  Bavarian 
Bud  Tyrolese  Alps,  it  is  a  lavourite  shelter  for  the  chamois;  the 
hunt  Ts  call  it  the  "  latscheu,"  from  its  recumbent  straggling 
habit.  Krummholz  oil,  valued  in  Germany  as  an  outward  applica- 
tion in  rheumatism  and  for  bruises  and  sprains,  is  distilled  from 
the  young  branches,  and  a  fragrant  white  resin  that  exudes  in 
some  quantity  from  the  buds  is  used  for  similar  purposes  and  as  a 
parfume  ;  under  the  name  of  Hungarian  balsam  it  is  sold  in  tho 
towns  of  Germany,  being  probably  obtained  from  the  Carpathians. 

The  Red  Pine  of  Canada  and  New  England  (so  called  from  the 
colour  of  its  bark),  P.  rc^iw^sa,  is  a  ti-ee  of  considerable  size,  some- 
times attaining  the  dimensions  of  P.  sylvesiris.  The  somewhat 
glaucous  leaves  form  dense  tufts  at  the  ends  of  the  branches,  and 
are  4  or  5  inches  long ;  the  ovate  blunt  cones  are  about  half  that 
length.  The  tree  is  of  quick  growth  and  the  wood  strong  and 
resinous,  but  it  is  less  durable  than  Scotch  fir,  though  much 
employed  in  shipbuQding  ;  according  to  Emerson,  trunks  exist  in 
Maine  i  feet  in  diameter.  A  sandy  soil  seems  to  suit  it  best,  and 
the  quality  of  the  wood  probably  much  depends  on  its  place  of 
growth.  Red  pines  abound  in  Nova  Scotia  and  Newfoundland, 
and  the  tree  is  rather  widely  distributed  over  the  northern ,  parts  of 
the  continent ;  it  rarely  forms  extensive  woods,  but  grows  chiefly 
in  clumps  among  other  trees,  at  least  in  its  more  southern  habitats." 
iNearly  allied  is  P.  Barikaiana,  the  Grey  or  Labrador  Pine,  some- 


times called  the  Scrub  Pine  from  its  dwarfish  habit;  it  is  the  most 
northerly  representative  of  the  genus  in  America,  and  is  chiefly 
remarkable  for  its  much  recurved  and  twisted  cones,  about  2  inches 
long.  The  trunks  are  too  small  to  be  of  great  economic  value,  but 
the  light  wood  is  used  by  the  natives  for  their  canoes. 

P.  Laricio,  the  Corsican  Pine,  is  one  of  the  noblest  trees  of  this 
group,  growing  to  a  height  of  100  or  even  150  feet,  with  a  straight 
trunk  and  branches  in  regular  whorls,  forming  in  large  trees  a 
pyramidal  head  ;  th";  slender  leaves,  of  a  dark  green  tint,  are  from 
4  to  7  inches  long ;  the  cones,  either  in  pairs  or  several  together, 
project  horizontally,  and  are  of  a  light  brown  colour.  This  pine 
abounds  in  Corsica,  and  is  found  in  more  or  less  abundance  in 
Spain,  southern  France,  Greece,  and  many  Mediterranean  countriesi; 
it  occurs  on  the  higher  mountains  of  Cyprus.  The  tree  is  of  very 
rapid  growth,  but  produces  good  timber,  much  used  in  southern 
dockyards  and  very  durable,  though  less  strong  than  that  ot 
P.  sylvcstris  ;  the  heart-wood  is  of  a  brownish  tint.  In  southern 
France  it  has  been  planted  -svith  success  on  the  drift-sands  of  the 
Bay  of  Biscay,  though  it  does  not  bear  the  full  force  of  the  sea- 
blast  as  well  as  the  pinaster.  In  England  it  grows  well  in  sheltered 
situations  and  well-drained  soils. 

The  Black  Pine,  P.  austriaca,  derives  its  name  from  the  extreme 
depth  of  its  foliage  tints, — the  sharp,  rigid,  rather  long  leaves  of  a 
dark  green  hue  giving  a  sombre  aspect  to  the  tree.  The  light- 
coloured,  glossy,  horizontal  cones  are  generally  in  pairs,  but  some- 
times three  or  four  together.  The  tree  is  conical  when  young,  but 
when  old  forms  a  spreading  head  ;  it  often  attains  a  large  size. 
Southern  Austria  and  the  adjacent  countries  are  the  natural 
habitats  of  this  pine ;  it  seems  to  flourish  best  on  rocky  mountain 
sides,  but  in  England  grows  well  on  sandy  soils.  The  timber  is 
valued  in  its  native  country,  and  is  said  to  be  durable  and  to  stand 
exposure  to  the  weather  well ;  various  resinous  products  are 
extracted  from  it,  P.  pyrenaiea  is  a  handsome  species  of  pyramidal 
form,  attaining  a  laige  size  on  the  mountains  of  northern  Spain. 
The  leaves  are  long  and  of  a  light  bright  green  ;  the  cones  are  soli- 
tary, oblong,  conical,  and  of  a  yellow  tint.  The  timber  is  used  in 
Spanish  dockyards,  but  opinions  vary  as  to  its  quality.  In  planta- 
tions its  bright  foliage,  with  the  orange  cones  and  young  shoots, 
render  it  an  ornamental  tree,  harJy  in  southern  Britain.  Near  to 
the  above  are  P.  Pallasiana  or  inaritima,  and  P.  kalcpensls,  Medi- 
terranean forms  chiefly  valued  for  their  resinous  products;  the 
former,  planted  on  the  loose  sands  of  France,  supplies  much 
turpentine  and  resin. 

P.  Pinaster,  the  Cluster  Pine  or  Pinaster,  is  an  important  species 
from  its  vigorous  growth  in  the  sand-drifts  of  the  coast,  for  tlie 
purpose  of  oinding  which  it  has  been  grown  more  extensively  and 
successfully  than  any  other  tree,  especially  on  the  dunes  of  the 
B.iy  of  Biscay.  Growing  to  a  height  of  from  40  to  70  feet,  the 
deeply-furrowed  trunk  occasionally  reaches  a  diameter  of  3  feet  or 
more  at  the  base,  where,  like  most  sand  trees,  it  usually  curves 
upward  gradually,  a  form  that  enables  the  long  tap-roots  to  with- 
stand better  the  strain  of  the  sea  gale ;  when  once  established,  the 
tree  is  rarely  overthrown  even  on  the  loosest  sand.  The  branches 
curve  upwards  like  the  stem,  with  their  thick  covering  of  long  dark 
green  leaves,  giving  a  massive  rounded  outline  to  the  tree ;  the 
ovate  cones  are  from  4  to  6  inches  long,  of  a  light  shining  brown 
hue,  with  thick  scales  terminating  in  a  pyramidal  apex ;  they  are 
arranged  around  the  branches  in  the  radiating  clusters  that  give 
name  to  the  ti'ee.  The  pinaster  grows  naturally  on  sandy  soils 
around  the  Mediterranean  from  Spain  to  tlie  Levant.  On  the 
drift-sands  of  France,  especially  in  the  Gironde,  forests  have 
been  formed  mainly  of  this  pine ;  the  seeds,  sown  at  first  under 
proper  shelter  and  protected  by  a  thick  growth  of  broom  sowrn 
simultaneously,  vegetate  rapidly  in  the  sea-sand,  and  the  trees 
thus  raised  have,  by  their  wind-drifted  seed,,  covered  much  of 
the  former  desert  of  the  Landes  with  an  evergreen  wood.  These 
forests  of  pinaster,  apart  from  the  production  of  timber  in  a  once 
treeless  district,  have  a  great  economic  value  as  a  source  of  turpen-| 
tine,  wliich  is  largely  obtained  from  the  trees  by  a  process  analogous 
to  that  employed  in  its  collection  from  P.  sylvestris ;  the  resin  is 
yielded  from  May  to  the  end  of  September,  the  cuts  being  renewed 
as  the  supply  fail.s,  until  the  tree  is  exhausted ;  the  trunks  are  then 
felled  and  used  in  tho  manufacture  of  charcoal  and  lamp  black; 
much  tar  and  pitch  is  also  obtained  from  these  pinaster  forests.; 
In  England  the  cluster-pine  has  been  largely  planted  on  sandy 
districts  near  the  sea,  and  has  become  naturalized  in  Purbeck  and 
other  wild  tracts  in  the  southern  counties,  but  the  summer  heat  is 
too  small  to  permit  of  its  resinous  products  acquiring  any  value; 
the  soft  coarse  wood,  though  perishable  in  the  natural  state,  haa 
been  used  for  railway  sleepei-s  after  saturation  with  creosote  o'tf 
preservative  solutions.  P.  brutlia,  tho  Calabrian  Pine,  a  kindred 
form,  is  remarkable  for  its  numerous  densely  clustered. radiating 
cones ;  its  wood  is  considered  good  in  southern  Italy. 

P.  Pinea  is  the  Stone-Pine  of  Italy;  its  spreading  a  oundcd 
canopy  of  light  green  foliage,  supported  on  a  tall  and  often  branch- 
less trunk,  forms  a  striking  feature  of  the  landscape  in  that  country, 
as  well  as  in  some  other  Mediterranean  lands       The  beaiitilul 


J 


PINE 


105 


reJdIah-brown  shining  cones,  roundly  ovate  in  shape,  with  pyrami- 
dal scale  apices,  have  been  prized  from  the  ancient  days  of  Rome 
for  their  cJible  nut-like  seeds,  which  are  still  used  as  an  article  of 
food  or  dessert.  They  do  not  ripen  until  the  fourth  year,  and  are 
kept  in  the  cone  until  required,  as  their  abundant  oil  soon  turns 
rancid.  The  tree  has  been  naturalized  in  many  warm  countries, 
even  in  China  ;  in  England  it  seldom  attains  any  large  size,  as  the 
deficient  summer  heat  prevents  the  wood  from  maturing;  but  trees 
occur  occaaioually  in  plantations  20  or  30  feet  in  height ;  the  wood, 
though  soft  and  deficient  in  the  resin  that  gives  durability  to  the 
timber  of  some  species,  is  valued  by  the  southern  carpenter  and 
cabinetmaker  for  its  lightness,  its  fineness  of  grain,  and  the  ease 
(With  which  it  is  worked. 

P.  mitis,  the  Yellow  Pine  of  the  northern  and  middle  States  of 
America,  is  rather  allied  to  the  three-leaved  section,  but  the  leaves 
■are  mostly  in  pairs.  It  is  a  tree  of  large  size,  often  attaining  a 
height  of  70  feet  and  upwards,  though  rarely  more  than  2  feet  in 
diameter  at  the  root ;  the  lower  branches  spread  horizontally',  the 
upper,  converging  towards  the  trunk,  give  the  tree  somewhat  the 
aspect  of  a  spruce,  hence  it  is  called  in  some  districts  the  "spruce- 
pine."  The  leaves  are  long,  slender,  and  of  a  bluish-green  hue  ; 
the  pendant  cones  are  about  IJ  inches  long,  with  a  slender  point  to 
each  scale.  The  yellow  pine  is  one  of  the  most  important  timber 
trees  of  the  genus;  the  neart-wood  being  very  durable  is  largely 
employed  in  shipbuilding  and  for  house  timber,  being  nearly  equal 
to  that  of  P.  sylvestris\  large  quantities  are  exported  to  Britain 
under  the  name  of  "New  York  yellow  pine";  the  sapwood  is 
perishable. 

The  three-leaved  group  includes  several  of  the  most  valuable  trees 
of  America;  among  them  is  P.  rigida,  the  Pitch-Pine  of  the 
northern  States,  a  tree  of  from  40  to  50  feet  in  height  with  rugged 
trunk,  occasionally  3  feet  in  diameter;  the  short  dark-^reen  leaves 
are  in  thick  tufts,  contrasting  with  the  pale  yellowish,  usually 
clustered  cones,  the  scales  of  which  are  furnished  with  small  curved 
spines.  The  wood  is  very  hard  and'  abounds  with  resin,  but  on 
swampy  land  is  of  inferior  quality  and  of  little  value  except  for 
fuel,  for  which  the  pitch-pine  is  highly  prized ;  on  drier  ground  the 
grain  is  fine  from  the  numerous  knots.  Large  quantities  of  tar  and 
pitch  arc  obtained  from  this  species.  The  tree  is  one  of  the  few 
that  will  flourish  in  salt-marshes. 

P.  aristralis  is  the  "Georgia  Fitch-Pine,"  or  Yellow  Pine  of  the 
southern  States ;  it  abounds  on  the  sandy  soils  that  cover  so  much 
of  Georgia,  the  Carolinas,  and  Florida,  and  on  those  dry  lands 
attains  its  highest  perfection,  though  occasionally  abundant  on 
moist  ground,  whence  it  is  sometimes  called  P.  paluslris.  The 
most  marked  feature  of  the  tree  is  its  long  tufted  foliage, — the 
leaves,  of  a  bright  green  tint,  springing  from  long  white  sheaths, 
being  often  a  foot  in  length.  The  tall  columnar  trunk  furnishes 
the  most  valued  pine  timber  of  the  States;  close-grained  and 
resinous,  it  is  very  durable  and  polishes  well ;  it  is  largely  employed 
Sn  American  shipyards,  and  immense  quantities  are  exported, 
especially  to  Britain  and  the  West  India  Islands.  This  tree 
yields  an  abundant  sujiply  of  tar  and  turpentine  of  good  quality, 
which  products  are  collected  and  manufactured  in  the  "  pine- 
l>arrens     on  a  large  scale. 

P.  Teeda,  the  "  Loblolly  Pino"  of  the  backwoodsman,  a  tall  tree 
with  straight  trunk  and  spreading  top,  covers  great  tracts  of  the 
"  pine-barrens  "  of  the  southern  States,  but  also  frequently  spreads 
over  deserted  arable  lands  that  have  been  impoverished  by  long  and 
bad  farming ;  hence  the  woodsmen  call  it  the  old-field"  pine,  while, 
from  the  fragrance  of  its  abundant  resiii,  it  is  also  known  as  the 
frankincense  pine.  It  is  a  fine  species  80  or  90  feet  high,  having 
sometimes  a  girth  of  6  or  8  feet,  with  a  broad  spreadingliead  ;  the 
leaves  are  rattier  long  and  of  a  light  green  tint,  the  cones  cenerally 
in  pairs,  the  scales  terminating  in  a  sharp  incurved  prickle.  The 
timber  of  this  pine  is  indifferent,  bat  the  forests  of  it  are  of  import- 
ance from  the  quantity  of  turpentine  they  yield  ;  the  trees  also 
furnish  much  firewood  of  good  quality. 

P.  ponderosa,  a  pine  of  western  America  belonging  to  this  section, 
58  a  fine  timber  tree  deserving  of  notice  from  the  extreme  density 
of  its  wood,  which  barely  floats  in  water  ;  it  abounds  in  some  parts 
of  the  western  ranga  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  leaves  are  very 
long  and  twisted,  the  small  oval  cones  armed  with  recurved 
prickles  ;  the  tree  is  said  to  be  of  rapid  growth.  In  Oregon  and 
California  several  large  pines  of  this  group  are  found.  P.  CouUtri, 
or  macTocarpa,  is  remarkable  for  its  enormous  cones  (sometimci 
a  foot  long,  6  inches  in  diameter,  and  weighing  more  than  4  tt>); 
the  scales  end  in  long  hooked  points  curving  upwards;  the  leaves 
are  long,  rigid,  and  glaucous  in  hue.  Nearly  related  to  this  is 
P.  Sniiniana,  the  Nut-Pine  of  California,  the  cones  of  which  are  of 
nearly  equal  sise,  also  with  hooked  scales  ;  the  large  nut-like  seeds 
are  eaten  by  the  Indians;  the  tree  is  one  of  the  largest  of  the 
section,  sometimes  attaining  a  height  of  120  feet  and  upward.s, 
■while  trunks  have  been  found,  it  is  said,  10  or  12  feet  in  diameter. 
P.  longifolia,  a  Nepal  species,  is  remarkable  for  the  great  length 
of  its  lax  slender  loaves,  of  a  gra-ss-grcen  tint ;  the  cones  have  the 
{mints  of  the  scales  recurved.     It  is  known  in  India  as  the  "  Chtcr- 


Kne";  tlie  wood  is  gooJ,  resinous,  »nd  modermttly  durable ;  the 
tree  is  common  on  the  foot-hills  of  the  Himalayas.  P.  Gerardiana, 
another  Nepal  species,  is  a  large  tree  with  a  conical  head,  growing 
on  the  more  elevated  parts  of  the  mountain  range ;  it  furnishes  edible 
seeds.  The  leaves,  short  and  glaucous,  like  those  of  the  Scotch 
fir,  have  deciduous  sheaths ;  the  cones  have  recurved  scale-poiuts 
like  those  of  the  cheer-pine.  P.  canarieivns,  which  forms  forests 
on  the  mountains  of  Grand  Canary  and  Tenerifl"e,  jgrowing  at  an 
elevation  of  6000  feet,  also  belongs  to  this  group.  The  leaves  are 
long,  lax,  and  of  a  bright  green  tint;  the  cone-scales  are  without 
spines ;  the  trunk  attains  a  large  size,  and  yields  good  and 
durable  timber.  The  beautiful  Monterey-Pine,  P.  insignis,  dis- 
tinguished by  the  brilliant  colour  of  its  foliage,  has  the  leaves  in 
tufts  of  three  or  four  ;  the  lower  cone-scales  have  recurved  points. 
This  fine  pine  has  been  planted  in  the  south-western  parts  of 
England,  but  is  scarcely  hardy. 

The  pines  with  five  leaves  in  each  tuft  have  generally  deciduous 
sheaths  The  most  important  economic  species  is  the  well-known 
White  Pine,  P.  Strobus,  from  its  large  growth  and  abundance,  as 
well  as  the  soft  even  grain  of  its  white  wood,  one  of  the  most 
valuable  of  American  trees.  The  tree  abounds  from  Canada  to 
Georgia,  and  is  also  found  in  British  Columbia,  but  in  the  eastern 
States  has  been  so  long  sought  for  by  the  lumberer  that  most  of  tho 
old  trees  have  long  disappeared,  and  large  white  pine  timber  is 
now  only  found  in  quantity  in  the  Canadian  Dominion.  Fonneily 
Maine  and  Vermont  were  celebrated  for  the  size  of  their  pines,  but 
few  of  these  great  trees  now  exist  in  New  England  ;  one  tliat  stood 
near  the  banks  of  the  Merrimack  in  New  HampslHre  is  said  to  have 
had  a  trunk  nearly  8  feet  in  diameter,  and  Michaux  measured  a 
stump  6  feet  across.  On  a  deep  rich  soil  P.  Strobus  attains  a 
height  of  150  or  even  200  feet,  and  trunks  without  a  branch  are 
sometimes  found  80  or  90  feet  long  ;  in  the  earlier  stages  of 
growth  it  has  a  pyramidal  form,  in  open  glades  the  lower  boughs 
often  touching  the  ground,  but  in  old  age  it  acquires  a  wi<ie  almost 
cedar-like  top.  The  light  bluish-green  foliage  is  somewhat  lax, 
very  dense  in  young  trees  ;  the  cones  are  long  and  rather  curved, 
with  thin  smooth  scales  a  little  thickened  at  the  apex,  and  gener- 
ally more  or  less  covered  with  exuding  white  resitr ;  they  are  about 
5  or  6  inches  in  length  and  li  to  2  inches  broad;  the  mala  catkins 
are  of  a  bluish  tint ;  the  cones  ripen  in  the  autumn  of  the  second 
year.  The  wood  of  the  white  pine  is  durable  for  indoor  use,  especially 
when  protected  by  paint,  but  when  exposed  to  moist  air  it  rapidly 
decays,  and  it  is  very  liable  to  dry  rot ;  it  is  said  to  bo  best  when 
grown  on  sandy  soils.  Immense  quantities  are  still  exported, 
especially  from  Canada,  its  smooth  easily-worked  grain  rendering 
it  a  favourite  wood  for  the  house-carpenter  and  joiner ;  it  weighs 
about  28  lb  per  cubic  foot.  In  England,  where  it  is  generally 
known  as  the  "Weymouth  Pine,"  it  succeeds  well  on  deep  light 
soils  when  well-drained  ;  trees  have  attained  occasionally  a  height 
of  100  feet  and  upwards  in  British  plantations  ;  but  it  is  apt  to  be 
infested  with  American  blight  (Eriosoma).  In  northern  Germany 
it  also  grows  well ;  a  tree  at  Berlin  measured  upwards  of  3  metres  in 
circumference,  -tho  age  being  one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  Tho 
climate  of  Scotland  appears  less  suitable  for  it,  probably  from  the 
want  of  summer  heat,  and  it  can  hardly  be  recommended  for 
British  planting  otherwise  than  for  ornamental  purposes. 

Nearly  approaching  this  is  P.  e^eelsa,  the  Bhotan  Pine,  which 
difl"ers  chiefly  in  its  longer  cones  and  drooping  glaucous  foliage.  It 
is  found  in  Kumaon  and  Bhotan  and  on  some  of  the  Nepal  ranges, 
but  does  not  grow  in  tho  moist  climate  of  the  Sikkim  Himalayas  ;  it 
is  found  at  a  height  of  6000  to  7000  feet,  and  attains  large  dimen- 
sions ;  the  wood  is  higlily  resinous,  and  is  said  to  be  durable  ;  great 
quantities  of  a  white  clear  turpentine  exude  from  the  branches  when 
injured.  The  Bhotan  pine  is  quite  hardy  in  southern  England,  and 
has  been  largely  planted  of  late  as  an  ornamental  tree. 

P.  Zamberliana,  the  Giant  Pine  or  Sugar-Pine  of  California,  is  the 
largest  of  the  genus,  rising  to  the  height  of  200  feet,  with  a  trunk 
20  to  30  feet  in  girth,  and,  it  is  said,  occasionally  attaining  much 
larger  dimensions.  The  head  is  of  a  pyramidal  form,  the  lower 
branches  drooping  like  those  of  a  Norway  spruce ;  its  folia^^e  is  of 
a  light  bright  green  colour.  The  pendent  cones  arc  very  large, 
sometimes  18  inches  long  and  i  inches  in  diameter,  vrith  large  nnt- 
like  seeds,  which,  pounded  and  baked,  are  eaten  by  the  Indians. 
The  tree  abounds  iu  some  sandy  districts,  but  more  generally 
occurs  singly  or  in  small  groups  dis]xrse<I  throngh  the  woods, 
attaining  its  greatest  dimensions  in  light  soils.  Tne  wootl  is  soft 
and  nearly  white,  but  contains  mnch  resin,  which  when  fire  has 
run  through  the  forest  cxmles,  and,  having  in  this  half-burnt 
condition  a  sweetish  taste,  has  given  the  common  name  to  the  tree; 
tho  wood  seems  to  bo  formed  slowly;  from  its  smooth  grain  it  is 
valued  for  indoor  carpentry;  the  sacchariije  burnt  resin  is  used  as  a 
laxative  in  California. 

P.  Cembra  is  the  Stone-Pine  of  Siberia  and  central  Europe.  It 
abounds  on  tho  Alps,  the  Carpathians,  and  the  Siborinn  ranges,  iu 
Switzerland  being  found  at  an  altitudo  of  6800  feet  in  some 
localities.  It  is  a  straight-growing  tree,  with  grey  bark  and  whorls 
of  horizontal  bnndics,  gioxnng  often  from  the  ground,  giving* 


106 


P 1 R—P 1 N 


cylindro-conical  outline  ;  the  leaves  are  short,  rigid,  and  glaucous; 
the  cones,  oblong  and  rather  pointing  upwards,  grow  only  near  the 
top  of  the  tree,  and  ripen  in  the  second  autumn';  the  seeds  are  oily 
like  those  of  P.  Piriea,  and  are  eaten  both  on  the  Alps  and  by  tlie 
inhabitants  of  Siberia  ;  a  fine  oil  is  expressed  from  tnem  which  is 
used  both  for  food  and  in  lamps,  but,  like  that  of  the  Italian  pine, 
it  soon  turns  rancid.  The  growth  of  P.  Cembra  is  slow,  but  the 
Wood  is  of  remarkably  even  grain,-~and  is  employed  by  the  Swiss 
y?ood-carvers  in  preference  to  any  other.  The  Cembra  is  the  "zirbel"- 
or  "zirbel-kiefer  of  the  Germans,  and  is  known  locally  in  Switzer- 
land as  the  "aroile,"  "aloies,"  and  "arve."  J  , 

P.  occidcntolis,  a  five-leaved  pine  with  |>ale  green  ■  foliage,  and 
small  ovate  cones,'  is  found  on  the  high  mountains  of  St  Domiugo. 
Vany  members  of  the  group  occur  on  the  Jlexican  isthmus,  one 
of  which,  P.  cembroides,  produces  edible  seeds.  P.  Ayacahuite,'  a 
large  tree  growing  on  tlie  mountains  of  Guatemala,  with  glaucous 
foliage  like  P.  Strobus  yields  a  valuable  resin.  P.  filifolia  and 
P.  macrophylla,  likewise  natives  of  Central  America,  are  remark- 
able for  the  extreme  length  of  their  leaves  ;  the  former  is  said  to 
attain  a  large  size.  '       '~  ~  .  (C.  P.  J.) 

PINE-APPLE.  The  pine-apple  so-called  consists  in 
reality  of  the  inflorescence  of  the  plant,  the  originally 
separate  flowers  of  which,  together  with  the  bracts  sup- 
porting them,"  become  fleshy  and  consolidated  into  one 
mass.  The  swelling  and  fusion  of  the  tissues  take  place 
after  the  process  of  fertilization,  and  it  may  be  that  the 
richly  perfumed  succulent  mass  is  an  aid  in  the  distribu- 
tion of  seed  by  affording  food  to  certain  animals.  In  the 
highly  developed  cultivated  pines,  however,  it  frequently 
happens  that  the  seeds  do  not  ripen  properly.  The  pine, 
Ananassa  sativa,  is  a  member  of  the  Bromeliad  family, 
supposed  to  be  of  tropical  American  origin,  and  has  been 
found  wOd  in  Mexico,  Central  America,  Guiana,  and 
Brazil,  but  is  now  widely  dispersed  in  all  tropical  and 
Bemitropical  countries.  ' 

Evelyn  in  his  Diary  mentions  tasting  a  pine-apple  from 
Barbados  at  the  table  of  Charles  II.,  and  this  is  we  believe 
the  first  mention  of  the  fruit  in  English  literature.  A 
picture,  of  which  a  copy  may  be  seen  at  the  rooms  of 
the  Koyal  Horticultural  Society  of  London,  represents  the 
royal  gardener,  Mr  Kose,  presenting  on  bended  knee  the 
lirst  pine-apple  grown  in  Britain,  and  it  is  surmised  that 
this  may  have  been  grown  from  the  "  suckers  "  of  the 
fruit  above  alluded  to  by  Evelyn,  though  it  is  generally 
coQsidered  that  the  pine  was  not  cultivated  in  England  till 
1712.  In  spite  of  the  great  improvements  in  the  quality 
of  pines,  and  the  great  progress  that  has  been  brought 
about  yi  the  rapidity  and  facility  of  production,  pine- 
growing  is  still  attended  with  considerable  expense,  and 
much  expenditure  of  time  and  labour.  At  the  same  time 
great  attention  has  been  given  to  pine  culture  in  the  West 
India  Islands,  the  'Azores,  &c.,  and  very  large  quantities  of 
fruiti  of  fine  quality  are  imported  into  Britain  at  relatively 
low  prices.  But  for-  pines  of  the  highest  flavour  in  the 
winter  and  spring  seasons  Englishmen  must  still  look  to 
their  own  gardens.     See  Hoeticultitrb. 

PINEL,  Philippe  (1745-1826),  a  distinguished  French 
physician,  was  born  at  the  chateau  of  Kascas,  Saint^Andr^ 
in  the  department  of  Tarn,  France,  on  April  20,  1745. 
He  studied  at  Lavaur  and  afterwards  at  the  university  of 
Toulouse,  where  he  took  his  doctor's  degree  in  1773. 
From  Montpellier,  where  he  taught  mathematics  and  at 
the  same  time  carried  on  his  medical  studies,  he  removed 
in  1778  to  Paris,  engaging  there  chiefly  in  literary  work 
connected  with  his  profession.  His  first  publication  was 
a  French  translation  of  CuUen's  H'osology  (1785);  it  was 
followed  by  an  edition  of  fhe  works  of  Baghvi  (1788),  and 
in  1791  he  published  a  Trails  mediccnphilosophiqiie  de 
Valienation  mentale.  In  1792  he  became  head  physician 
of  the  Bicetre,  and  two  years  afterwards  he  received 
the  corresponding  appointment  at  the  Salpetrifere,  where 
he  began  to  deliver  a  course  of  clinical  lectures ;  these 
formed  the  basis  of  his  Nosograpliie  philnsophique  (1798; 
6th  ed.  1818),  which  was  further  developed  in  La  Medecine  I 


clinique  (1802).  Tinel'was  made  a  member  of  the  Insfi-^ 
tute  in  1803,  and  soon  afterwards  was  appointed  professor 
of  pathology  in  the  ficole  de  Medecine.  Neither  as  a 
lecturer  nor  as  an  author,  however,  did  he  achieve  great 
success,  and  his  enduring  fame  rests  entirely  upon  the 
fact  that  by  his  courageous  action  he  was  among  the"first 
,to  introduce  the  humane  treatment  of  the  insane,  removing 
with  his  own  hands  the  bonds  of  patients  who  had  been 
chained  to  the  wall  for  years.  See  vol.  xiii.  p.^llO.*^  He 
died  at  Paris  on  October  26,  1826.  _.  , 

PINEROLO,  a  city  of  Italy,  in  the  province  of  Turitf 
(Piedmont),  is  built  in  a  straggling  manner  on  a  hill-side 
just  above  the  junction  of  the  valleys  of  the  Chisone  and 
the  Lemina,  at  a  height  of  1237  feet  above  the  sea,  23 J 
miles  by  rail  south-west  of  Turin.  It  is  the  terminus  of 
the  branch  railway  from  Turin  by  Sangone  or  Nichellino, 
and  has  steam  tramways  running  up  to  Perosa  (12  miles) 
and  south  to  Saluzzo.  Till  1696  it  was  strongly  fortified 
with  a  citadel  on  Santa  Brigida,  a  castle  on  St  Maurizio,^ 
and  city  walls  constructed  by  Thomas  I.  of  Savoy.  It  has 
a  cathedral  (St  Donatus),  a  bishop's  palace,  a  large  semi- 
nary, a  theatre  (1842),  a  hospital  (1546),  a  public  library,' 
a  cavalry  coUege,  a  school  of  music,  '^nd  a  Waldensian 
chapel  and  schools.  Cotton,  silk,  wool,  and  hemp  are 
among  the  local  manufactures.  The  population  of  the 
city  was  11,362  in  1871  and  12,003  in  1881  (commun« 
16,730  and  17,492). 

yPinerolo  was  bestowed  on  the  bishops  of  Turin  hy  Otho  III.  in 
996  ;  but  in  1078  the  countess  Adelaide  made  it  over  to  the  Bene- 
dictine abbey  of  Santa  Maria,  in  whose  possession  it  remained  till 
1159.  Thomas  I.  of  Savoy  captured  the  castle  in  1188,  and  in 
1246  the  commune  formally  recognized  the  supremacy  of  Savoy.' 
Passing  in  1295  into  the  hands  of  Philip,  son  of  Thomas  III.,' 
Pinerolo  became  his  residence  and  capital,  a  distinction  which  it 
retained  under  Amadeus  VIII.  of  Savoy,  even  after  the  extinction 
of  the  separate  house  of  Piedmont  in  1418.  Francis  I.  of  Franca 
obtained  possession  of  the  town  in  his  descMit  into  Italy,  and  tried 
to  secure  the  allegiance  of  the  people  by  relieving  the  woollen 
trade  from  taxation;  but  Emmanuel  Philibert  received  it  back 
from  Henry  III.  in -1574.  .  A  second  occupation  by  the  French 
occurred  under  Cardinal  Richelieu :  the  French  language  was 
ipiposed  on  the  people, .  great  fortifications  were  constructed,  and 
the  fortress  was  used  as  a  state  prison  for  such  men  as  Fouquet, 
De  Caumont,  and  the  Man  with  the  Iron'  Mask.  Victor  Amadeus 
bombarded  the  place  in  1693,  and  ultimately  compelled  Louis  XIV, 
to  relinquish  his  hold  on  it ;  but  before  the  withdrawal  of  the 
French  troops  the  defences  were  demolished  and  the  military 
importance  of  Pinerolo  brought  to  a  close.  In  1748  the  town 
was  made  a  bishop's  see.  llichele  Buniva,  pensioned  by  Victo* 
Emmanuel  I.  as  the  introducer  of  vaccination  into  Piedmont,  waS 
a  native  of  Pinerolo  and  has  a  statue  in  the  Piazza  del  Palazzo. 
De  Grossi  and  Massi  are  among  the  local  historians. 

PINK:  As  usually  applied  this  word  corresponds  to  q 
genus  of  Caryophyllacese,  the  Dianthm  of  botanists.  It'ia 
characterized  by  the  presence  of  opposite  simple  leaves 
proceeding  from  thickened  nodes,  a  cymose  inflorescence, 
a  tubular  calyx  surrounded  by  a  number  of  overlapping 
bracts,  a  showy  coroUa  of  five  free  long-staiked  petals,  ten 
stamens  proceeding,  together  with  the  petals,  from  a  short 
stalk  supporting  the  ovary,  which  latter  has  two  styles 
and  ripens  into  an  oblong  pod  which  splits  by  two  valves. 
The  species  are  herbaceous  or  perennial,  of  low  statute, 
often  with  very  showy  flowers.  They  are  natives  chiefly 
of  southern  Europe  and  the  Mediterranean  region,  a  feW 
being  found  in  temperate  Asia  and  South  Africa.  Oo« 
species  only  is  nauve  to  America,  and  that  only  in  the  north- 
west. Four  species  are  wild  in  Britain,  with  two  others 
which  are  more  or  less  naturalized.  These  two  are  th'e 
more  interesting  as  being  the  originals  of  the  pinks  and 
of  the  carnations  and  picotees  of  English  gardens.  Garden 
Pinks  are  derivatives  from  Dianthus  plumarius,  a  native  of 
central  Europe,  with  leaves  rough  at  the  edges,  and  with 
rose-coloured  or  purplish  flowers.  The  use  of  "  pink"  to 
denote  a  colour  is  derived  from  the  name  of  the  plant. 


P  I  N  —  P  I  "N 


107 


The  Carnation  and  I'icotee  are  modifications  of  Dianthus 
Caryopliyllus,  the  Clove  Pink,  a  species  with  smooth  edges 
to  the  leaf.  This  is  a  native  of  Europe,  growing  on  rocks 
in  the  south,  but  in  the  north  usually  found  on  old  walls. 
Its  occurrence  in  England  on  some  of  the  old  Norman 
castles,  as  at  Rochester,  is  supposed  by  Canon  EUacombe 
to  indicate  its  introduction  by  the  Normans  ;  in  any  case 
the  plant  grows  in  similar  situations  in  Normandy.  The 
■original  species  has  "  self  "-coloured  flowers,  that  is,  flowers 
of  one  hue,  generally  some  shade  of  pink,  but  the  varia- 
tions in  gardens  are  infinite.  The  carnation  includes  those 
flowers  which  are  streaked  or  striped  lengthwise — the 
picotees  are  those  in  which  the  petals  have  a  narrow  band 
of  colour  along  the  edge,  the  remainder  of  the  petal  beitig 
free  from  stripes  or  blotches.  These  by  the  old  writers 
were  called  "  gillyflowers"  (see  vol.  x.  p.  601).  The  Sweet 
William  of  gardens  is  a  product  from  Dianthus  barbatu." ; 
the  Indian  Pink  comes  from  D.  sinensis,  of  which  D. 
Heddewigii  is  a  variety;  the  Alpine  Pink,  D.  alpinus,  is  a 
very  lovely  plant  for  the  rockery;  and  there  are  many 
hybrid  and  other  varieties  met  with  in  gardens,  tor  an 
account  of  which  reference  must  be  "lade  ta  treatises  on 
horticulture. 

PINKERTON,  John  (1758-1826),  arctiseologist,  numis- 
matist, historian,  geographer,  and  miscellaneous  writer  in 
prose  and  verse,  was  born  at  Edinburgh,  February  17, 
1758.  After  a  brief  education  at  Lanark  he  was  articled 
as  a  law  clerk  in  Edinburgh,  his  earliest  work,  printed 
during  his  clerkship,  being  an  Elegy  on  Craigmillar 
Castle  (177C).  In  1780  he  removed  to  London  to  devote 
himself  to  literary  work,  publishing  in  1781  a  volume  of 
Rimes  of -no  great  merit,  and  a  professed  collection  of 
Scottish  Tragic  Ballads.  These  were  followed  in  1782  by 
Two  Dithyramhic  Odes  on  Enthusiasm  and  Laughter,  and 
by  a  series  of  Tales  in  Verse.  Under  the  title  of  Select 
Scottish  Ballads  he  reissued  in  1783  his  tragic  ballads, 
■with  a  supplement  comprising  Ballads  of  the  Comic  Kind, — 
a  collection  which  obtained  for  him  the  not  wholly  appro- 
priate title  of  "the  second  Chatterton."  An  Essay  on 
Medals  in  1784  won  him  a  considerable  reputation,  which 
was  in  some  respects  unpleasantly  maintained  by  his  bold 
but  eccentric  Letters  on  Literature  published  in  1785 
under  the  pseudon}Tn  of  Robert  Heron — a  temporary 
adoption  of  his  mother's  surname.  In  the  following  year 
he  edited  the  Ancient  Scottish  Poems  from  the  MS.  Collec- 
tions of  Sir  Ricliard  Maitland  of  Lethington, — a  genuine 
reproduction,  though*  his  confession  in  the  preface  of 
forgery  in  the  previous  collections  published  by  him 
brought  groundless  suspiciorf  upon  it.  It  was  succeeded 
in  1787  by  a  compilation,  under  the  new  pseudonym  of 
Bennet,  entitled  the  Treasury  of  Wit,  and  by  his  first 
important  historical  work,  the  Dissertation  on  the  Origin 
and  Progress  of  the  Scythians  or  Goths,  to  which  Gibbon 
professed  himself  indebted.  "  Turning  his  attention  to 
faagiology,  Pinkerton  next  collected  and  printed  in  1789 
certain  Vitx  Sanctorum  Scotix,  and,  a  little  later,  published 
hb  Enquiry  into  the  History  of  Scotland  preceding  the 
Reign  of  Mcdcolm  III.,  in  which  he  hoped  to  settle  the 
ancient  history  of  his  country  on  the  solid  footing  of  facts 
and  authorities  and  "  leave  nothing  in  the  ink  horn."  In 
many  quarters  his  attitude  towards  the  Highlanders 
excited  "  violent  disgust,"  but  the  Enquiry  was  twice 
reprinted,  in  1794  and  181"*,  and  is  still  of  value  for  the 
documents  embodied  in  it.  His  edition  of  Barbour's 
Bruce  and  a  Medallic  Ilistory  of  Englarul  to  tlie  Revolution 
appeared  in  1790  ;  a  collection  of  Scottish  Poems  reprinted 
from  scarce  Editions  in  1792  ;  anda  scries  of  biographical 
sketches,  the  Iconographia  Scotica,  in  the  years  1795-97. 
In  the  last-mentioned  year  he  published  a  History  of 
Scotland  from  the  Accession  of  the  House  of  Stuart  to  that 


of  3fary,  containing  valuable  material,  but  almost  entirely 
devoid  of  "literary  finish.  A  new  biographical  collection, 
the  Gallery  of  Eminent  Persons  of  Scotland  (1799),  was 
succeeded  after  a  short  interval  by  a  2Iodem  Geography 
digested  on  a  New  Plan  {\^Q2  ;  enlarged,  1807).  About 
this  time  he  left  London  for  Paris,  where  he  chiefly  resided 
until  his  death  on  May  10,  1826.  His  remaining  publica' 
tions  were  the  Recollections  of  Paris  in  the  years  1802-3- 
4-5  (1806);  a  very  useful  General  Collection  of  Voyage* 
and  Travels  (1808-1813) ;  a  New  Modem  Atlas  (1809-15); 
and  his  Petralogy  (1811).  An  unsuccessful  tragedy  by 
him  was  performed  at  Edinburgh  in  1813. 

Pinkerton  possessed  an  exceedingly  vigorons  and  acute  mind, 
but  very  lacking  in  high  constructive  power ;  and,  as  he  was  less 
patient  in  the  formation  of  opinion  than  in  research,  his  best  work 
is  marred  by  imperfect  judgments  crudely  and  obstinately  asserted. 
At  the  same  time  his  writings  take  no  mean  rank  in  the  advance 
towards  a  scientific  treatment  of  history.  Walpole,  notes  of  whose 
conversations  were  published  at  his  death  by  I'inkerton  under  the 
title  of  Walpoliana,  regarded  his  understanding  as  "one  of  the 
strongest,  most  manly,  and  clearest  he  ever  knew;"  and  Gibbon 
not  only  praised  his  faculty  of  persistent  application  as  herculean 
and  heroic,  but  wished  to  secure  his  cooperation  in  a  scheme  for 
organizing  the  materials  of  early  English  history.  The  final 
verdict  upon  his  work  must  he  tliat  of  the  Earl  of  Buchan,  who 
endorsed  Pinkerton's  statement  that  he  was  "a  homo  umiratilis, 
of  a  hypochondriac  unsocial  disposition,"  with  the  comment  "  te 
■ij>se  dixit:  it  is  his  best  apology;  yet  undoubtedly  he  has  been  a 
benefactor  to  literature." 

PINSK,  a  district  town'  of  the  government  of  Minsk, 
Russia,  is  situated  in  a  marshy  region  at  the  confluence  of 
the  Strumeii  and  Pina  rivers,  172  miles  to  the  south-west 
of  Minsk.  It  has  a  lyceum,  several  primary  schools,  and 
a  great  number  of  Jewish  schools.  The  town  is  almost 
entirely  built  of  wood,  and  has  a  poor  appearance.  The 
population  (13,000  in  1865)  was  in  1884  22,950,' more  than 
four-fifths  of  whom  are  Jews,  who  live  almost  exclusively 
on  trade.  This  development  of  trade  in  a  town  situate^ 
at  a  distance  from  all  railways  (the  nearest,  that  from 
Moscow  to  Warsaw,  being  60  miles  ofl)  is  due  to  the 
navigable  river  Pina,  which  connects  it  with  the  fertile 
regions  on  the  Dnieper,  and,  by  means  of  the  Dnieper-and- 
Bug  Canal,  with  Poland  and  Prussia,  while  the  canal  of 
Oginsky  connects  it  with  the  basin  of  the  Nieraen.  The 
merchandise  brought  from  the  Dnieper  is  unshipped  at 
Pinsk,  and  sent  west  or  north-west  on  smaller  vessels. 

Pinsk  (Pinesk)  is  first  mentioned  in  Russian  annals  in  1097  as  a. 
town  belonging  to  Sviatopolk,  prince  of  Kieff'.  In  1132  it  formed 
part  of  the  Minsk  principality,  and  it  often  changed  its  rulers 
subsequently.  After  the  Mongol  invasion  it  became  the  chief  town 
of  a  separate  principality,  and  continued  to  be  so  until  the  en^ 
of  tlie  13th  century.  In  1320  it  was  annexed  to  Lithuania  ;  and  in 
1569,  after  the  union  of  Lithuania  with  Poland,  it  was  reoognizeU 
as  chief  town  of  the  ])rovinco  of  Brest.  During  the  rebellion  of 
Bogdan  Khmelnitzky  (1040),  as  it  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
Cossacks,  the  Poles  took  it  by  assault,  destroying  14,000  persons 
and  burning  6000  houses.  Eight  years  later  the  town  was  burned 
again  by  the  Russians.  Charles  Xll.  took  it  in  1706,  and  when 
compelled  to  quit,  burned  the  palace  of  Prince  Wisznewecld,  and 
the  town  with  its  suburbs.     Pinsk  was  annexed  to  Rus-sia  in  1795. 

PINTO,  Fernao  Mendes  (1509(?)-1583),  a  noted 
Portuguese  adventurer,  was  born  in  1509  or  1510  at 
Montemor-o-Velho,  near  Coimbra,  and  died  near  Lisbon, 
July  18,  1583.  After  spending  some  years  in  Lisbon 
and  Sctubal,  and  experiencing  various  adventures,  ho  left 
his  native  country  in  1537,  in  a  fleet  of  five  ships, 
committing  himself  to  a  career  of  adventure  at  seA, 
which-  lasted  twenty-one  years,  in  the  course  of  which  he 
was  five  times  shipwrecked,  thirteen  times  taken  captive, 
and  seventeen  times  sold  as  a  slave.  If  Pinto's  own  nar- 
rative is  coloured  in  many  paissages  by  a  wandering  and 
fervid  imagination,  its  substantial  honesty  is  now  generally 
admitted,  in  spito  of  Congrcve's  opprobrium  in  Loiv  for 
Love, — "  F.  M.  yinto  was  but  a  typo  of  thee,  thou  liar  of 
the  first  magnitude."     The  fleet  with   which   Pinto  left 


108 


P  I  N  — P  I  N 


Portugal  anchored,  after  various  adventures,  at  Socotra, 
and  he  himself  was  taken  cajjtive  near  the  Straits  of 
Babelmandeb,  carried  to  Mocha,  sold  as  a  slave,  and  ran- 
somed by  the  Portuguese  governor  of  Ormuz.  Returning 
to  the  Indies,  he  was  again  engaged  in  several  expedi^ 
tions,  again  enslaved,  again  ransomed,  and  again  captured 
by  pirates.  In  1512  he  was  engaged  in  an  expedition  to 
Calempin,  near  Peking,  to  rifle  the  tombs  of  seventeen 
Chinese  kings.  Shipwrecked  and  captured  on  the  Chinese 
coast,  he  was  set  to  work  in  repairing  the  Great  Wall, 
whence  an  inroad  of  Tartars  transported  him  to  the  siege 
of  Peking  and  next  to  Tartary.  Hence  we  follow  him  to 
Cochin-China,  Macao,  and  Japan.  At  Ningpo  his  report 
of  Japan  and  its  wealth  caused  the  equipment  of  nine 
ships,  eight  of  which  foundered,  Pinto's  ship  being  driven 
to  the  Lew-chew  Islands.  After  a  variety  of  other  adven- 
tures, Pinto  returned  a  third  time  to  Japan  with  Francis 
Xavier  in  1548.  In  1553,  while  at  Goa  on  his  return  to 
Portugal  with  his  rich  fortune,  he  was  induced  to  devote 
nearly  all  his  wealth  to  the  foundation  of  a  seminary  for 
propagating  the  faith  in  Japan.  Returning  to  Lisbon  in 
1558,  he  spent  a  few  years  at  court,  but  found  the  life 
very  stale  after  his  stirring  adventures  in  the  East. 

The  first  extai.t  account  of  liis  adventures  is  to  be  found  in  a 
collection  of  Jesuits'  letters  published  in  Italian  at  Venice  in  1565. 
\he  full  narrative,  however,  of  his  life  is  his  own  Peregrina<;do, 
Jvhich  was  first  published  in  quarto  at  Lisbon  in  1614  by  Francisco 
de  Herrera.  In  1620  appeared  a  Spanish  translation,  and  in  162S 
at  Paris  a  French  translation  by  b.  Figuier,  followed  by  two  other 
editions  (1645  and  1S30).  There  is  also  an  English  translation 
by  H.  Cogan  (London,  1663  and  1692).  See  also  Barbosa  Machado, 
Bibt.  Lusitana  ;  Fr.  da  Sylva,  Dicionario  bibliographico  Portiiguez  ; 
Castclho,  Liferaria  Classica  Portugveza. 

PINTURICCHIO  (U54-1513),  whose  full  name  was 
Bernardino  di  Betti,  the  son  of  a  citizen  of  Perugia, 
Benedetto  or  Betto  di  Biagio,  was  one  of  a  very  important 
group  of  painters  who  inherited  the  artistic  traditions  and 
developed  the  style  of  the  older  Perugian  painters  such  as 
Bonligli  and  Fiorenzo  di  Lorenzo.  According  to  Vasari  he 
was  a  pupil  of  Perugino  ;  and  so  in  one  sense  no  doubt  he 
was,  but  rather  as  a  paid  assistant  than  as  an  apprentice. 
The  strong  similarity  both  in  design  and  methods  of 
execution  which  runs  through  the  works  of  this  later 
Perugian  school,  of  which  Perugino  was  the  oldest  member, 
is  very  striking ;  paintings  by  Perugino,  Pinturicchio,  Lo 
Spagna,  and  Raphael  (in  his  first  manner)  may  often  be 
mistaken  one  for  the  other.  In  ihost  cases,  especially  in 
the  execution  of  large  frescos,  pupils  and  assistants  had  a 
large  share  in  the  work,  either  in  enlarging  the  master's 
sketch  to  the  fuU-siied  cartoon,  in  transferring  the  cartoon 
to  the  wall,  or  in  painting  backgrounds,  drapery,  and  other 
accessories.  In  this  way  the  spirit  and  individuality  of 
one  man  could  impress  itself  indelibly  on  a  numerous 
school  of  younger  artists. 

After  assisting  Perugino  in  the  execution  of  his  frescos 
in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  Pinturicchio  was  employed  by 
various  members  of  the  Delia  Rovere  family  and  others  to 
decorate  a  whole  series  of  chapels  in  the  church  of  S. 
Maria  del  Popolo  in  Rome,  where  he  appears  to  have 
worked  from  1484,  or  earlier,  to  1492  with  little  interrup- 
tion. The  earliest  of  these  is  an  altarpiece  of  the  Adora- 
tion of  the  Shepherds,  in  the  first  chapel  (from  the  west) 
on  the  south,  built  by  Cardinal  Domenico  della  Rovere ;  a 
portrait  of  the  cardinal  is  introduced  as  the  foremost  of 
the  kneeling  shepherds.  In  the  lunettes  under  the  vault 
Pinturicchio  painted  small  scenes  from  the  life  of  St 
Jerome.  The  frescos  which  he  painted  in  the  next 
chapel,  that  built  by  Card.  Innocenzo.Cibo,  were  destroyed 
in  1700,  when  the  chapel  was  rebuilt  by  Card.  Alderano 
Cibo.  The  third  chapel  on  the  south  is  that  of  Giov. 
della  Rovere,  duke  of  Sora,  nephew  of  Sixtus  PV.,  and 
brother  of  Giuhano.  who  was  afterwards  Pope  Julius  II. 


This  contains  a  fine  altarpiece  of  the  Madonna  enthroned 
between  Four  Saints,  and  on  the  east  side  a  very  nobly 
composed  fresco  of  the  Assumption  of  the  Virgin.  The 
vault  and  its  lunettes  are  richly  decorated  with  small 
pictures  of  the  life  of  the  Virgin,  surrounded  by  graceful 
arabesques ;  and  the  dado  is  covered  with  monochrome 
paintings  of  scenes  from  the  lives  of  saints,  medallions 
with  prophets,  and  very  graceful  and  powerfully  drawn 
female  figures  in  full  length,  in  which  the  influence  of 
Signorelli  may  be  traced.  In  the  fourth  chapel  Pinturic- 
chio painted  the  Four  Latin  Doctors  in  t'ne  lunettes  of  the 
vault.  Most  of  these  frescos  are  considerably  injured  by 
damp,  but  happily  have  suffered  little  from  restoration ; 
the  heads  are  painted  with  much  minuteness  of  finish, 
and  the  whole  of  the  pictures  depend  very  largely  for 
their  effect  on  the  final  touchings  a  secco.  The  last  paint- 
ings completed  by  Pinturicchio  in  this  church  were  the 
frescos  on  the  vault  over  the  retro-choir,  a  very  rich  and 
well-designed  piece  of  decorative  work,  with  main  lines 
arranged  to  suit  their  surroundings  in  a  very  skilful  way. 
In  the  centre  is  an  octagonal  panel  of  the  Coronation  of 
the  Virgin,  and  round  it  medallions  of  the  Four  Evangelists 
■ — the  spaces  between  them  being  filled  up  by  reclining 
figures  of  the  Four  Sibyls.  On  each  pendentive  is  a  figure 
of  one  of  the  Four  Doctors  enthroned  under  a  niched 
canopy.  The  bands  which  separate  these  pictures  have 
elaborate  arabesques  on  a  gold  ground,  and  the  whole  is 
painted  with  broad  and  effective  touches,  very  telling 
when  seen  (as  is  necessarily  the  case)  from  a  considerable 
distance  below.  No  finer  specimen  of  the  decoration  of  a 
simple  quadripartite  vault  can  anywhere  be  seen. 

In  1492  Pinturicchio  was  summoned  to  Orvieto,  where 
he  painted  two  Prophets-  and  two  of  the  Doctors  in  the 
duomo.  In  the  following  year  he  returned  to  Rome,  and 
was  employed  by  Pope  Alexander  VI.  (Borgia)  to  decorate 
a  suite  of  six  rooms  in  the  Vatican,  which  Alexander  had 
just  built.  These  rooms,-  called  after  their  founder  th» 
Appartamenti  Borgia,  now  form  part  of  the  Vatican 
library,  and  five  of  them  still  retain  the  fine  series  of 
frescos  with  which  they  were  so  skilfully  decorated  by  Pin- 
turicchio. The  upper  part  of  the  walls  and  vaults,  not  only 
covered  with  painting,  but  further  enriched  with  delicate 
stucco  work  in  relief,  are  a  masterpiece  of  decorative 
design  applied  according  to  the  truest  prineiples  of  mural 
ornament,^ — a  much  better  model  for  imitation  in  that 
respect  than  the  more  celebrated  Stanze  of  Raphael 
immediately  over  the  Borgia  rooms.  The  main  subjects 
are — (1)  the  Annunciation,  the  Nativity,  the  Magi,  and  the 
Resurrection  ;  (2)  Scenes  from  the  lives  of  St  Catherine, 
St  Antony,  and  other  saints ;  (3)  allegorical  figures  of 
Music,  Arithmetic,  and  the  like ;  (4)  four  figures  in  half 
length,  with  rich  arabesques  ,  (5)  figures  of  the  planets,  the 
occupations  of  the  various  months,  and  other  subjects. 
The  sixth  room  was  repainted  by  Perino  del  Vaga^ 

Though  not  Avithout  interruption,  Pinturicchio,  assisted 
by  his  pupils,  worked  in  these  rooms  from  1492  till  1498, 
when  they  were  completed.  His  other  chief  frescos  in 
Rome,  still  existing  in  a  very  genuine  state,  are  those  in 
the  Cappella  Bufalini  at  the  south-west  of  St  Maria  in  Ara 
Coeli,  probably  executed  from  1497  to  1500.  These  are 
well-designed  compositions,  noble  in  conception,  and  finished 
with  much  care  and  refinement.  On  the  altar  wall  is  a 
grand  painting  of  St  Bernardino  of  Siena  between  two 
other  saints,  crowned  by  angels ;  in  the  upper  part  is  a 
figure  of  Christ  in  a  vesica-glory,  surrounded  by  angel 
musicians ;  on  the  left  wall  is  a  large  fresco  of  the  miracles 
done  by  the  corpse  of  St  Bernardino,  very  rich  in  colour, 
and   full   of  very  carefully   painted   heads,   some  being, 

'  See  Guattani,  Quadri  nell'  AppaH.  Borgia,  Rome,  ISC- 


P I N— P I N 


109 


portraits  of  members  of  the  Bufalini  family,  for  wiiom 
these  frescos  were  executed.  One  group  of  three  females, 
the  central  figure  with  a  child  at  her  breast,  is  of  especial 
beauty,  recalfing  the  grace  of  Raphael's  second  manner. 
The  composition  of  the  main  group  round  the  saint's 
corpse  appears  to  have  been  suggested  by  Giotto's  painting 
of  St  Francis'  on  his  bier  in  S.  Croce  at  Florence.  On 
the  vault  are  four  noble  figures  of  the  Evangelists,  usually 
attributed  to  Luca  Signorelli,  but  certainly,  like  the  rest 
of  the  frescos  in  this  chapel,  by  the  hand  of  Pinturicchio. 
On  the  vault  of  the  sacristy  of  S,  Cecilia  in  Trastevere, 
Pinturicchio  painted  the  Almighty  surrounded  by  the 
Evangelists,  a  work  which  still  exists  in  a  fair  state  of 
preservation  and  unrestored.  During  a  visit  to  Orvieto 
in  1496  Pinturicchio  painted  two  more  figures  of  the 
Latin  Doctors  in  the  choir  of  the  duomo — now,  like  the 
rest  of  his  work  at  Orvieto,  almost  destroyed.  For  these 
he  received  fifty  gold  ducats. 

Among  his  panel  pictures  the  following  are,  the  most 
important.  An  altarpiece  for  St  Maria  de'  Fossi  at  Perugia, 
painted  in  1496-98,  now  moved  to  the  picture  gallery, 
is  a  Madonna  enthroned  among  Saints,  graceful  and 
sweet  in  expression,  and  very  minutely  painted  ;  the  wings 
of  the  ratable  have  standing  figures  of  St  Augustine  and 
St  Jerome  ;  and  the  predella  has  paintings  in  miniature  of 
the  Annunciation  and  the  Evangelists.  Another  fine  altar- 
piece,  similar  in  delicacy  of  detail,  and  probably  painted 
about  the  same  time,  is  that  in  the  cathedral  of  San 
Severino — the  Madonna  enthroned  looks  down  towards 
the  kneeling  donor.  The  angels  at  the  sides  in  beauty  of 
face  and  expression  recall  the  manner  of  Lorenzo  di  Credi 
or  Da  Vinci.  The  Vatican  picture  gallery  has  the  largest 
of  Pinturicchio's  panels — the  Coronation  of  the  Virgin, 
with  the  apostles  and  other  saints  below.  Several  well- 
executed  portraits  occur  among  .the  kneeling  saints.  The 
Virgin,  who  kneels  at  Christ's  feet  to  receive  her  crown,  is 
a  figure  of  great  tenderness  and  beauty,  and  the  lower 
group  is  composed  with  great  skill  and  grace  in  arrange- 
ment. Other  important  panel  paintings  by  Pinturicchio 
exist  in  the  cathedral  of  Spello,  in  the  Siena  gallery,  at 
Florence,  at  Perugia,  and  in  other  collections. 

In  1501  Pinturicchio  painted  several  fine  frescos  in  S. 
Maria  Maggiore  at  Spello, — all  very  decorative,  and  full 
of  elaborate  architectural  accessories.  One  of  them, 
the  Annunciation,  is  signed  "  Bernardinvs  Pintvrichivs 
PervsinvB."  They  are  much  injured  by  damp  and  clumsy 
restoration.  The  most  striking  of  all  Pinturicchio's 
frescos,  both  for  brilliance  of  colour  and  their  wonderful 
state  of  preservation,  are  those  in  the  cathedral  library  at 
Siena,  a  large  room  built  in  1495  by  Cardinal  Francesco 
Piccolomini,  afterwards  Pius  ILL  In  1502  the  cardinal 
contracted  with  Pinturicchio  to  decorate  the  whole  room 
with  arabesques  on  the  vault,  and  on  the  walls  ten  scenes 
from  the  life  of  jEneas  Sylvius  Piccolomini,  Pius  11.,  the 
uncle  of  Cardinal  Francesco. 

The  contract,  given  in  fuU  by'Milanesi  (Vosari,  iii.  p.  619),  is  a 
very  interesting  one  ;  It  specialiy  provides  that  the  cartoons,  their 
transference  on  to  the  walls,  and  all  the  heads,  were  to  bo  by 
Pinturicchio's  own  hand,  thus  contradicting  Vasari's  assertion  that 
the  cartoons  were  the  work  of  Raphael.  In  fact  when  closely  ex- 
amined the  evidence  which  would  give  Raphael  an  important  share 
in  the  execution  of  these  fine  paintings  amounts  to  very  little.  The 
document  provides  for  the  price  of  these  frescos,  namely  one  thousand 
gold  ducats,  to  be  paid  in  various  instalments.  The  work  was 
begun  early  in  1503,  but  was  interrupted  for  a  while  by  the  death 
of  Pius  III.  His  will,  however,  provided  for  the  completion  of  the 
work  by  his  executors,  and  the  whole  series  were  finished  in  1507. 
The  subjects  are  (1)  the  journey  of  the  young  Sylvius  Piccolomini 
to  the  council  of  Basel,  in  the  suite  of  Cardinal  Capranica  ;  (2)  his 
reception  by  James  I.  of  Scotland  as  envoy  from  the  council  of 
Basel ;  (3)  his  being  crowned  with  the  poet's  laurel  by  Frederick 
III.;  (4)  his  reception  by  Pope  Eugenius  IV.  as  ambassador  from 
Frederick    III.;    (6)  outside  the  wall  of   Siena  bo  presents  to 


Frederick  III.  his  bride  Leonora,  infanta  of  Portugal;  (6)  he 
receives  the  cardinal's  hat  from  Pope  Calixtus  111.;  (7)  he  is 
borne  in  procession  after  his  election  as  Pope  Pius  II.;  (8)  bo 
presides  at  a  council  at  Mantua  ;  (9)  ho  canonizes  St  Catherine  of 
Siena  ;  (10)  he  arrives  in  Ancona  to  promote  the  ciusade  against 
the  Turks.  In  addition  to  these  there  is,  outside  the  library,  ovei 
the  door,  the  Coronation  of  Pius  III. 

Though  this  splendid  series  of  paintings  are  laid  in  with  true 
Iresco-colours,  there  is  bat  little /rcsco  buono  visible;  almost  the 
whole  is  painted  over  a  seeco  with  colours  much  more  brilliant  in 
tone  than  could  be  used  on  the  wet  stucco.  This  retouching,  which 
was  employed  by  all  fresco  painters,  was  used  by  Pinturicchio  more 
than  by  most  artists.  In  tne  lower  part  of  the  scene  of  St  Cathec- 
ine's  canonization  ho  has  introduced  his  own  portrait,  and  standing 
by  him  is  a  youth  who  bears  some  resemblance  to  Raphael.  The 
paintings  are  all  finished  with  much  care,  Ijut  Pinturicchio  has  not 
kept  to  the  flat  and  simply  decorative  treatment  of  his  earlier  man- 
ner ;  there  is  much  more  of  aerial  perspective  and  distance  destroy- 
ing the  apparent  solidity  of  the  waU  surface. 

In  1508  Pinturicchio  painted  another  panel  of  the 
Madonna  enthroned  among  Saints  for  the  church  of  the 
Minori  Conventuali  at  Spello.  It  is  now  over  the  altar 
in  the  sacristy.  On  his  return  to  Siena  he  painted  a 
whole  series  of  frescos  on  the  walls  of  the  Palazzo 
Petrucci,  now  all  destroyed  except  one  scene  of  the  return 
of  Ulysses  to  Penelope  (or  possibly  Collatinus  and  Lucretia), 
which  is  now  in  the  National  Gallery  of  London,  trans- 
ferred to  canvas.  One  of  his  last  works,  painted  in  1513, 
the  year  of  his  death,  is  a  very  beautiful  and  highly 
finished  panel  with  Christ  bearing  His  Cross,  now  in  the 
Palazzo  Borromeo  in  Milan.  Pinturicchio  married  Grania 
di  Niccol6,  and  had  by  her  two  sons  and  four  daughters ; 
there  is  probably  no  truth  in  the  story  of  his  being  starved 
by  his  wife  during  his  last  illness. 

The  frescos  in  the  Cappella  Bufalini  were  engraved  in  ten  plates 
by  Fran.  Giangiacomo,  and  published  by  the  Calcografia  Canierale 
of  Rome.  The  Siena  library  series  were  engraved  by  Faucci  in  the 
the  last  century,  and  more  recently  by  Lasinio.  Neither  set  is 
remarkable  for  fidelity  or  spirit.  The  Siena  frescos  and  those  at 
Spello  have  been  published  in  chromolithograph  by  the  Arundel 
Society  of  London. 

Pinturicchio's  worth  as  a  painter  has  been  for  the  most  part 
undervalued,  partly  owing  to  the  very  strong  prejudice  and  dislike 
which  tinges  Vasari's  biography  of  him.  Even  recent  writers,  such 
as  Crqwe  and  Cavalcaselle,  have  hardly  done  him  justice.  A  fairer 
estimate  of  his  position  in  th»  history  of  art  is  given  by  Vermiglioli, 
Memorie  di  Pinturicchio,  Perugia,  1837  ;  and  in  the  valuable  notes 
and  appendix  of  Milanesi's  edition  of  Vasari,  iii.  p.  493-531, 
Florence,  1878.  See  also  Schmarsow,  liaphael  und  Pinturicchio  m 
Siena,  Stuttgart,  1880,  a.nd  Pinturicchio  in  Eom,  Stuttgart,  1882, 
both  well  illustrated  by  photolithography.  (J.  H.  M.) 

PINZON,  a  family  of  wealthy  Spalnish  navigators,  of 
Palos  de  Moguer,  in  Andalusia,  three  members  of  which 
— Alonzo,  Francesco,  and  Vicente,  brothers — were  associ- 
ated with  Columbus  in  his  great  discovery. 

Martin  Axonzo  Pinzon,  born  about  the  middle  of  the 
15th  century,  gave  material  assistance  to  Columbus  in 
carrying  out  his  project.  In  the  expedition  of  1492 
Alonzo  commanded  the  "Pinta,"  on  board  of  which  his 
brother  Francesco  was  pilot;  another  brother,  Vicente 
Yanez,  had  command  of  the  "  Nina."  It  was  at  Alonzo'a 
pursuasion  that  on  October  7th  the  course  of  the  expedi- 
tion was  changed  to  the  south-west ;  the  island  of  Guana-" 
hani  or  San  Salvador,  four  days  after,  was  sighted.  Ori 
November  21,  off  the  coast  of  Cuba,  Alonzo  separated 
himself  from  the  expedition,  and  crowded  sail  to  the  wcst^ 
ward,  hoping  to  bo  the  first  to  arrive  at  the  land  of  gold 
of  which  they  had  heard  the  natives  speak.  "After  an 
absence  of  six  weeks  ho  rejoined  Columbus,  who  accepted 
the  excuses  ho  gave  for  his  absence.  On  the  return 
journey  Alonzo  again  separated  from  his  loader,  probably 
by  design,  and  when  Columlnia  arrived  at  Palos  on  March 
15,  1493,  he  learned  that  Alonzo  had  already  landed  at 
Bayona  in  Galicia.  If  his  object  was  to  forestall  Columbue 
and  obtain  the  credit  of  being  the  discoverer  of  the  New 
World,  his   intentions   were   foiled  ;  he   was  rcfusod  th« 


.110 


r  1  0  — p  I  p 


audience  wbieh  he  craved  of  the  sovereigns,  and  very 
shortly  after  died,  it  is  supposed  of  chagrin.  Even 
although  it  could  be  proved  that"  Alonzo's  intentions  were 
dishonourable,  we  should  remember  that  it  was  largely 
through  his  liberality  that  Columbus  was  enabled  to  carry 
out  his  immortal  voyage. 

ViCE.VTE  Tanez  Pinzon,  who  commanded  the  "Nina," 
also  gave  Columbus  material  help,  and  remained  loyal  to 
his  leader  throughout.  In  after  years  he  made  important 
discoveries  on  his  own  account.  In  1499  he  sailed  with 
four  caravels  across  the  Atlantic  to  the  south-west,  and  on 
January  20,  1500,  he  struck  the  South-American  continent 
at  Cape  S.  Agostinho,  its  most  easterly  projection,  three 
months  before  the  Portuguese  navigator  Cabral  reached 
Brazil,  the  discovery  of  which  is  geperally  attributed  to 
him.  Proceeding  southwards  a  short  distance,  he  then 
turned  north,  followed  the  coast  to  the  north-west,  and 
went  as  far  at  least  as  what  is  now  Costa  Rica.  After 
touching  at  Hayti,  and  losing  two  of  his  vessels  among  the 
Bahamas,  Vicente  returned  to  Palos  in  the  end  of  Septem- 
ber 1500.  Although  concessions  were  made  to  him,  and 
he  was  created  governor  of  the  newly  discovered  lands  by 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  he  does  not  seem  to  have  ever 
taken  possessioru  In  1508  we  find  Vicente  sailing  with 
Juan  Diaz  de  Salis  along  the  east  coast  of  South  America, 
in  their  attempt  to  find  an  opening  towards  the  west  that 
would  conduct  them  to  the  Spice  Islands.  He  did  not 
get  beyond  the  40th  degree  of  S.  lat.,  about  the  mouth  of 
the  Rio  Negro,  having  passed  the  mouth  of  the  La  Plata 
without  recognizing  it.  After  1523  all  traces  of  Vicente 
are  lost. 

Navarrete,  Cokceion  de  Viajes ;  Humboldt,  Geography  of  the 
New  World ;  Wasliington  Irving's  Columbus  and  Companions  of 
Columbus  ;  bibliogj-apliy  in  Joaquin  Caetano  da  Silva's  L'Oijapoc  el 
VAmazone  ;  Peschel,  Geschkhte  des  Zeitalters  der  Entdeclmngm. 

PIOJIBO,  Sebastiano  del.     See  Sebastiano. 

PIOTRKOW,  the  chief  town  of  a  government  of  the 
same  name  in  Russian  Poland,  and  formerly  the  seat  of 
the  high  court  of  Poland,  is  situated  on  the  railway  from 
Warsaw  to  Vienna,  90  miles  by  rail  to  the  south-west  of 
the  capital,  5  miles  to  the  west  Of  the  river  Pilica.  Ten 
years  ago  it  was  a  poor  town  of  17,000  inhabitants,  but 
".t  has  -  grown  during  the  last  few  years,  partly  as  the 
seat  of  the  provincial  administration,  and  partly  in  conse- 
quence of  the  development  of  trade.  In  April  1882  it 
had  23,050  inhabitants,  including  3000  military.  Its 
manufactures  are  still  insignificant ;  it  has  a  few  flour- 
mills,  saw-mills,  soap-works,  and  breweries. 

PIOZZI,  Hester  Lynch  (1741-1821),  the  daughter  of 
John  Salisbury  of  Bodville,  Carnarvonshire,  was  born 
there,  as  it  would  appear  from  a  protracted  dispute 
between  Croker  and  Macaulay,  27th  January  1741.  After 
an  education  which  e.\tended  considerably  beyond  that 
given  to  most  ladies  of  her  period — for  she  was  acquainted 
with  the  learned  languages  as  well  as  with  French,  Italian, 
and  Spanish — she  was  married  in  1763  to  Henry  Thrale,  a 
brewer  of  Southwark,  whose  house  was  at  Streatham  on 
the  south-east  corner  of  Tooting  Beck  Common.  In  this 
retreat  she  drew  around  her  many  of  the  most  distin- 
guished men  of  letters  of  the  age.  She  was  introduced  to 
Johnson  by  Arthur  JIurphy  in  the  year  after  her  marriage, 
and  for  nearly  twenty  years  the  sage  remained  on  the  closest 
intimacy  with  her.  He  travelled  with  them  in  Wales  in 
1774,  and  visited  France  in  their  company  in  1775. 
Boswell's  first  visit  to  Streatham  took  place  in  October 
1769.  Madama  D'Arblay  was  first  received  there  in 
August  1778.  In  spite  of  this  intercourse  with  the  princi- 
pal writers  of  the  day  troubles  grew  upon  her  in  her 
married  life.  ^  Her  talents  were  not  appreciated  by  her 
husband :  he  was  always  ill  and  frequently  in  pecuniary 


anxiety  ;  and  when  children  were  born  to  her  they  oft^ 
succumbed  to  sickness.  After  some  years'  illness  Mr 
Thrale  died  on  April  4,  1781,  and,  as  the  brewery  in  the 
borough  sold  for  £135,000,  the  widow  found  herself  amply 
provided  for.  At  the  time  of  !Mr  Thrale's  death  Dr 
Johnson  was  in  declining  health,  and  he  soon  began  to 
think  himself  slighted,  nor  was  his  indignation  abated  at 
the  announcement  in  the  spring  of  1783  of  her  engage- 
ment to  Piozzi,  an  Italian  musician  For  a  time  the 
engagement  was  broken  off,  but  it  was  quickly  resumed, 
and  on  the  25th  of  July  1784  they  were  married.  The 
union  provoked  the  resentment  of  her  children,  and  the 
undying  denunciations  of  Dr  Johnson ;  but,  when  her 
husband  was  found  to  be  a  man  of  quiet  and  inoffensive 
manners  and  a  careful  guardian  of  his  wife's  resources,  her 
children  acquiesced  in  the  marriage  and  most  of  her 
friends  returned  to  her.  Baretti,  always  her  enemy, 
abused  her,  and  Boswell  ridiculed  her,  but  her  character 
has  survived  the  insinuations  of  the  one  and  the  open 
malevolence  of  the  other,  as  well  as  the  satiric  attacks  of 
Peter  Pindar.  Piozzi  died  of  gout  at  Brynbella,  March 
1809,  and  from  that  time  his  widow's  life  was  chiefly  spent 
in  the  social  circles  of  Bath  and  Clifton  or  in  the  retire- 
ment of  Penzance.  When  long  past  seventy  she  took  a 
fancy  to  William  Augustus  Conway  the  actor,  and  the 
"  love  letters  "  which  she  wrote  to  him  have  been  published 
with  a  catchpenny  title.  She  died  at  Clifton,  2d  May 
1821. 

Airs  Piozzi  was  bright  and  witty,  and  possessed  of  manners  which, 
if  not  refined,  never  failed  to  attract.  Several  of  her  literary 
publications  have  long  since  perished  from  want  of  vitality,  but 
her  Little  poem  of  "  The  Three  Warnings  "  forms  a  part  of  most 
selections  of  English  poetry.  Her  Anecdotes  of  Dr  Johmcn,  now  a 
scarce  book,  ai'e  contained,  "as  she  lierself  gave  them  to  the 
world,"  in  the  concluding  volume  of  Napier's  Johnson  (1884),  and 
her  notes  to  Wraxall's  Historical  Memoirs  are  reprinted  in  the 
1884  edition  of  tliat  work.  The  Anecdotes  and  the  Letters  to  and 
frojn  Dr  Johnson  are  inferior  in  interest  only  to  the  work  of 
Boswell.  Two  editions  of  the  Autobiography  of  Mrs  Piozzi,  under 
the  editoi'ship  of  Abraham  Hayward,  have  been  issued,  and  the 
Rev.  Edward  Mangin  published  in  1833,  under  the  disguise  of  "by 
a  friend,"  a  thin  volume  of  PiozziavM,,  Her  features  are  reproduced 
in  the  lady's  countenance  in  Hogarth's  picture  of  the  Lady's 
Last  Stake. 

PIPE  (see  Music,  vol.  xvii.  p.  77 ;  and  Oegas,  ih.  p. 
SSt)).  Stnitt,  in  his  Sports  and  Pastimes  of  the  People  of 
England,  gives  representations  of  the  pipe  and  tabor  as 
used  in  England  in  the  14th  century  to  accompany  a 
dancing-dog,  a  cock  on  stilts,  a  horse  rearing,  (fee.  From 
the  drawings  we  cannot  ascertain  the  nature  of  the  pipe 
represented.  We  may,  however,  suppose  it  to  have  been 
similar  to  the  galoubet  used  in  France,  along  with  the 
tabor,  from  a  very  remote  period.  This  galoubet  is  a  small 
instrument  of  the  flageolet  kind.  Its  use  for  more  than 
the  last  two  centuries  has  been  confined  to  Provence.  „  It 
has  only  three  fingerJioles,  and  is  played  with  the  left 
hand,  whilst  the  right  beats  the  tabor,  which  is  attached 
to  the  performer.  ^  The  compass  of  the  galoubet  is  two 
octaves  and  a  tone  from  D  on  the  third  line  of  the  treble 
clef  up  to  E  in  altissimo.  Great  skill  is  required  to  bring 
out  all  the  sounds  of  its  compass.  Some  of  the  players  on 
this  small  and  imperfect  instrument  are  said  to  be  so 
dexterous  as  to  be  able  to  perform  upon  it  very  difficult 
pieces  of  music  composed  for  other  instruments,  such  as 
the  violin,  &c.  It  is  always  accompanied  by  the  tabor, 
which  is  a  small  drum  of  a  cylindrical  form,  and  rather 
longer  and  narrower  in  its  relative  proportions,  than  the 
common  drum.  _  In  the  last  century  several  books ,  of 
instruction  were  published  at  Paris  by  distinguished  per- 
formers on  the  galoubet. 

^PIPE,  Tobacco.  The  smoking  of  tobacco  in  pipes  is 
a  custom  which  prevailed  in"  America  for  a  period  of 
unknown  duration  previous  to  the  discovery  of  that  con.^ 


F  1  r  E 


HI 


"Monitor  "Pific. 


Fio.  2.  —Heron  Pipe. 


lineni  by  Columbus.  The  most  ancient •  pipes  of  whicb 
remains  e.\ist  liave  been  found  in  mounds  or  tumuli  called 
pipe  mounds,  piincijially  in  the  States  of  Ohio,  Indiana, 
Illinois,  and  Iowa.  These  mound  pipes,  which  are  carved 
in  porphyry  and  other  hard  stones,  are  very  uniform  in 
type.  The  pipe,  cut  out  of  a  single  piece  of  stone,  consists 
of  a  slightly  convex  platform  or  base,  generally  from  3  to 
4  inches  in  length,  and  about  an  inch  broad,  with  the 
bowl  on  the  centre.  A  fine  hole  is  pierced  from  one  end 
of  the  platform  to  the  bottom  of  the  bowl,  the  ojiposite 
end  being  obviously  for  holding  in  the  hand  while  the  pijje 
is  being  smoked.    In  the 


commonest  forms  the 
bowl  is  a  simple  cylinder 
or  urn  (fig.  1),  but  in 
many  cases  remarkable 
artistic  skill  has  been 
displayed  in  carving  the 
bowls  into  miniature 
figures  of  bird.s,  mammals,  reptiles,  and  human  heads,  often 
grotesque  and  fantastic,  but  always  vigorously  expressed 
(fig.  2).  These  mound 
or  platform  pipes  with 
carved  human  and  ani- 
mal forms  are  objects 
of  the  highest  ethno- 
graphic interest  and  im- 
portance, being  among 
the  most  characteristic 
remains  of  the  ancient 
inhabitants  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi valley.  The  wide  area  over  which  they,  as  well 
as  remains  of  baked  clay  pipes,  are  found  throughout  the 
American  continent  testifies  to  the  universal  prevalence 
of  smoking  in  the  pre-Columbian  era.  Many  of  the 
ancient  clay  pipes  found  in  Mexico,  &c.,  are  elaborately 
moulded  and  ornamented,  while  others  show  considerable 
Bimiiarity  to  the  early  clay  pipes  of  Europe.  Among  the 
North-American  Indian  tribes  the  tobacco  pipe  occupies  a 
position  of  peculiar  symbolic  significance  in  connexion 
with  the  superstitious  rites  and  usages  of  the  race.  The 
calumet,  peace  pipe,  or  medicine  pipe  is  an  object  of  the 
most  profound  veneration,  entrusted  to  the  care  of  a  highly 
honoured  oiiicial,  and  produced  and  smoked  with  much 
ceremony  only  on  occasions  of  great  importance,  and 
solemnity.  It  is  remarkable  that,  whilst  the  most  ancient 
American  pipes  had  no  Separate  stem,  it  is  the  stem  only 
of  the  medicine  pipe  which  is  the  object  of  veneration 
among  the  Indians,  the  bowl  used  being  a  matter  of 
indifference.  Tho  favourite  material  for  Indian  pipe 
bowls  is  the  famous  red  pipe  stone  (catlinito),  a  fine- 
grained easily-worked  stone  of  a  rich  red  colour  of  the 
Coteau  des  Prairies,  west  of  the  Big  Stone  Lake  in 
Dakota.  The  quarries  were  formerly  neutral  ground 
among  the  warring  Indian  tribes,  many  sacred  traditions 
being  associated  with  the  locality  and  its  product  (see 
Longfellow's  Hiaioaiha,  i.).  The  Babeen  Indians  of  the 
British-Columbian  coast  xiarve  from  a  soft  blue  clay  slate 
very  elaborate  and  massive  pipes  with  intricate  pierced 
work  and  fantastic  animal  forms,  tho  pipe  tube  being 
pierced  from  some  protruding  part  of  the  sculpture. 

There  is  considerable  dispute  as  to  whether  pipes  for 
'smoking  were  at  all  known  in  Europe  previous  to  tho  dis- 
covery of  America.  That  tobacco-smoking  was  unknown 
is  certain  ;  but  pipes  of  iron,  bronze,  and  clay  have  been  so 
frequently  found  associated  with  Roman  remains  and  other 
antiquities  as  to  lead  many  authorities  to  maintain  that 
Buch  pipes  must  have  been  anciently  used  for  burning 
incense  or  for  smoking  aromatic  herbs  or  hemp.  Through- 
out Great.  Britain  and  Ireland  small  clay  pipes  are  fre- 


quently dug  up,  in  some  instance.s  associated  with  Roman 
relics.  These  are  known  amongst  the  people  as  elfin, 
fairy,  or  Celtic  pipes,  and  in  some  districts  supernatural 
agencies  have  been  called  in  to  account  for  their  existence. 
The  elfin  pipes  have  commonly  flat  broad  heels  in  place  of 
the  sharp  spur  now  found  on  clay  pipes,  and  on  that  flat 
space  the  mark  or  initials  of  the  maker  is  occasionally 
found.  There  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  these  pipes  are 
older  than  the  17th  century.  The  introduction  of  the 
tobacco  pipe  into  Europe  is  generally  ascribed  to  Ralph 
Lane,  first  governor  of  Virginia,  who  in  1586  brought  an 
Indian  pipe  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  and  taught  that  courtiejr 
how  to  use  the  implement.  The  pipe  makers  of  London 
became  an  incorporated  body  in  1G19,  and  from  England 
the  other  nations  of  Europe  learned  the  art  of  making  clay 
pipes.  Baillard,  in  his  Discours  du  Tahac  (1668)  says  of 
the  English — "  Ces  derniers  ont  invents  les  pipes  de  terre 
cuite,  qui  ont  cours  aujourd'huy  par  tout  le  monde." 

The  habit  of  smoking  with  pipes  spread  with  incredible 
rapidity  ;  and  among  the  various  peoples  the  pipe  assumed 
special  characteristics,  and  its  modifications  became  the 
medium  of  conveying  social,  political,  and  personal  allu- 
sions, in  many  cases  with  no  little  artistic  skill  and 
humour.  The  ijipo  also  became  the  object  of  much  inven- 
tive ingenuity,  and  it  varied  as  greatly  in  material  as  in 
form — wood,  horn,  bone,  ivory,  ttone,  precious  and  other 
metals,  amber,  glass,  porcelain,  and  above  all  clay  being 
the  materials  employed  in  various  forms.  By  degrees 
pipes  of  special  form  and  material  came  to  be  associated 
with  particular  people,  so  that  now  we  have  the  elongated 
painted  porcelain  bowls  and  pendulous  stem  of  the  German 
peasantry,  the  red  clay  bowl  and  long  cherry  wood  stem 
of  the  Turk,  and  the  very  small  metallic  bowl  and  cane 
stem  of  the  Japanese,  (fee.  The  moat  luxurious  and  elabo- 
rate form  of  pipe  is  the  Persian  kalyun,  hookah,  or  water 
tobacco  pipe.  This  consists  of  three  pieces,  the  head  or 
bowl,  the  water  bottle  or  base,  and  the  snake  or  long 
flexible  tube  ending  in  the  mouthpiece.  The  tobacco, 
which  must  be  previously  prepared  by  steeping  in  water, 
is  placed  in  the  head  and  lighted  with  live  charcoal,  a 
wooden  stem  passes  from  its  bottom  down  into  the  water 
which  fills  the  base,  and  the  tube  is  fitted  to  a  stem  which 
ends  in  the  bottle  above  the  water.  Thus  the  smoke  is 
cooled  and  washed  .before  it  reaches  the  smoker  by  passing 
through  the.  water  in  the  bottle,  and  by  being  drawn 
through  the  coil  of  tube  frequently  some  yards  in  length. 
The  bottles  are  in  many  cases  made  of  carved  and  other- 
wise ornamented  cocoa-nut  shells,  whence  the  apparatus 
is  called  ndrgila,  from  ndrfil,  a.  cocoa-nut.  Silver,  gold, 
damascened  steel,  and  precious  stones  are  freely  used  in  tho 
making  and  decoration  of  these  pipes  for  wealthy  smokers. 

Pipe  Manufacture. — Tho  rcfrular  pipe-making  industries  divide 
into  many  brandies,  of  which  the  more  important  arc  tho  clay  five,' 
meerscliaum  (real  and  artificial),  and  wooden  bowl  trades.  Clay 
pipes  are  made  in  prodigious  nimibcrs  by  hand  labour  with  an  iron 
mould  and  a  steel  wire  for  forming  the  tube  of  the  stem.  Tipo 
moulding  is  a  very  simple  operation  in  pottery,  and  the  work  is 
performed  with  astonishing  celerity.  A  number  of  machiii(«  have 
been  devised  for  automatic  pipe-moulding  ;  but  the  manual  oiwra- 
tions  are  so  rapid  and  inexpensive  that  there  is  little  margin  fo^ 
saving  by  tho  substitution  of  machinery.  Tho  jiipes  are  very 
lightly  fired  ao  ns  to  keep  them  soft  and  porous ;  niid  so  cheaply 
made  arc  they  that  the  commoner  kinds  can  bo  retailed  at  a  profit 
for  a  farthing  each.  Tlic  principal  centre  of  tbo  clay  pipe  industry 
is  at  Broscley  in  StafTordsliiro,  where  tho  trade  has  been  established 
since  tho  early  part  of  tbo  17th  century.  Meerschaum  pipes  (sco 
Mebiischaum,  vol.  XV.  p.  825)  aro  tho  expensive  luxury  of  tho 
European  smoker,  and  largo  sums  of  money  arc  occnsionally 
expended  on  tho  artistic  treatment  of  tlio  meerschaum  bowl  or  on 
the  adornment  of  its  adjuncts.  Tho  common  meerschaum  is  gene- 
rally provided  with  n  mimth-pieco  of  amber,  but  modern  ingenuity 
has  succeeded  in  providing  a  remarkably  clever  imitation  of  both 
substances,  so  that  a  large  proportion  of  the  so-called  meersehaum 
pipes  arc  factitious.     Tho  hcadquartirs  of  the  meerschaum  pij^a 


112 


P  I  P  —  P  I  P 


^industry  is  at  Eulila  iii  Thuriiigil,  anil  in  connexion  with  an 
official  imiuiiy  into  tlio  German  tobacco  trade  in  1879  the  average 
iproJuctipu  of  pipes  ailJ  pipe  ailjuncts  ia  tliat  district  for  several 
lyears  was  ascertained.  Of  pipe  bowls  there  were  made  yearly 
1540,000  genuine  raeerscliaums;  5,4p0,0O0  artificial  meerschaums; 
14,800,000  wooden  heads;  9,600,000  common  porcelain  bowls  (the 
favourite  of  the  German  peasant) ;  and  2,700,000  Cue  clay  or  lava 
itowls.  Jurther  the  trade  included  15,000,000  pipe  stems  or 
tubes  of  various  materials;  19,200,000  adjuncts,  such  as. flexible 
tubes,  chains,  tops,  Jcc. ;  144,000  pipe  cases;  9,600,000  mouth-pieces 
and  cigar-holders  of  am  ber,  horn,  meerschaum,  wood,  &c. ;  and 
finally  15,000,000  compUte  pipes  of  various  materials.  The  whole 
annual  value  of  the  industry  is  estimated  at  £1,000,000  sterling. 
The  favourite  wooden  pipe  generally  known  as  a  briar-wood  or 
briar-root  pipe  is  really  made  from  the  roots  of  the  tree  heath,  Erica 
(irborea  (French,  hruylrc),  principally  obtained  on  the  hills  of  the 
Maremma  and  tal<en  thence  to  Leghorn.  There  the  roots  are 
shaped  into  blocks  each  suitable  for  a  pipe,  the  cutting  of  the  wood 
60  as  to  avoid  waste  requiring  considerable  skill.  These  blocks 
are  simmered  in  a  vat  for  twelve  hours,  which  gives  them  the  much 
appreciated  yellowish-brown  hue  of  a  good  "briar-root."  So  pre- 
pared the  blocks  are  exportsd  for  boring  and  finishing  to  St  Claude 
(Jura)  in  France  and  to  Nuremberg,  the  two  rival  centres  of  the 
(Wooden  pipe  trade.  (J.  PA.) 

PIPE-FISHES,  small  marine  fishes,  which  with  the  Sea- 
horses form  a  distinct  family,  Syngnathidse,  of  the  order 
of  Lophobranchiate  Fishes  (see  Ichthyology,  vol.  xii.  p. 
€94).  ;  The  name  is  derived  from  the  peculiar  form  of  their 


>T?;5g^ 


Fio.  \.—Syngnathtis  acus,  male,  with  aub-candal  pouch.^ 

snout,  which  is  produced  into  a  more  or  less  long  tubej" 
ending  in  a  narrow  and  small  mouth  which  opens  upwards 
and  is  toothless.  The  body  and  tail  are; 
long  and  thin,  snake-like,  encased  in  hard  ^ 
integuments  which  are  divided  into  regu-'. 
larly  arranged  segments.  This  dermal 
skeleton  shows  several  longitudinal  ridges,''' 
80  that  a  vertical  section  through  the  body 
represents  an  angular  figure,  not  round  or 
oval  as  in  the  majori,ty  of  other  fishes.* 
A  dorsal  fin  is  always  present,  and  the 
principal  (in  some  species,  the  only)  organ 
of  locomotion.  The  ventral  fins  are  as 
constantly  absent,  and  the  other  fins  may 
OT  may  not  be  developed.  ■  The  gill-open- 
ings are  extremely  small,  and  placed  near 
the  upper  posterior  angle  of  the  gill-cover. 
Pipe-fishes  are  abundant  on  such  coasts  of 
the  tropical  and  temperate  zones  as  offer 
by  their  vegetation  shelter  to  these  de- 
fenceless creatures.  They  are  very  bad 
swimmers,  slowly  moving  through  the 
■water  by  means  of  the  rapid  undulatory 
movement  of  the  dorsal  fin.  Their  tail, 
even  when  provided  with  a  caudal  fin,  is  J 
of  no  use  in  swimming,  and  not  prehensile  \ 
as  in  sea-horses.  Specimens,  therefore,  ria 
are  not  rarely  found  at  a  great  distance  Sc.^%imi"hTyoung 
from  land,  having  been  resistlesslv  carried    ■'eady  to  leave  the, 

T.  J.       •    1.       ^1  ■  pouch.    One  side  of 

by  currents  into  the  open  ocean;  one  the  membrane  of  the 
species,  Syngnathus  pelagicus,  has  an  extra-  J°,"g'',„  aamft'tf 'a 
ordinarily  wide  range  over  the  tropical  view  of  its  interior, 
seas,  and  is  one  of  the  common  fishes  in-  (Natural  size.) 
habiting  the  vegetation  of  the  Sargasso  Sea.  In  pipe- 
fishes the  male  is  provided  with  a  pouch — in  some  species 
on  the  abdomen,  in  others  on  the  lower  side  of  the  tail — 


in  which  the  ova  are  lodged  during  their  development 
This  marsupial  pouch  is  formed  by  a  fold  of  the  skin 
developed  from  each  side  of  the  trunk  or  tail,  the  free 
margins  of  the  fold  being  firmly  united  in  the  median  line 
throughout  the  period  during  which  the  egga  are  being 
hatched.  When  the  young  are  hatched  the  folds  separate,' 
leaving  a  wide  slit,  by  which  the  young  gradually  escape 
when  quite  able  to  take  care .  of  themselves.  Nearly  a 
hundred  different  species  of  pipe-fishes  are  known,  of 
which  Sipkonostoma  typlde,  Syngnathus  acus  (the  Great 
Pipe-fish,  up  to  18  inches  in  length),  Nerophis  aquoreus 
(Ocean  Pipe-fish),  Nerophis  ophidion  (Straightnosed  Pipe^ 
fish),  and  Nerophis  lumbriciformis  (Little  Pipe-fish)  are 
British  species.  The  last  three  are  destitute  of  a  caudal 
fin. 

PIPIT,  French  Pipit,  cognate  with  the  Latin  Pipio  (see 
Pigeon,  supra  p.  84),  the  name  applied  by  ornithologista 
to  a  group  of  birds  having  a. great  resemblance  both  in 
habits  and  appearance  to  the  Larks  (vol.  xiv.  p..  317), 
with  which  they  were  formerly  confounded  by  systematiets 
as  they  are  at  the  present  day  in  popular  speech,  but 
differing  from  them  in  several  important  characters,  and, 
having  been  first  separated  to  form  the  genus  Anthus, 
which  has  since  been  much  broken  up,  are  now  generally 
associated  with  the  Wagtails  {q.v.)  in  the  Family  Mota- 
cillidx.^  Pipits,  of  which  over  fifty  species  have  been  de- 
scribed, occur  in  almost  all  parts  of  the  world,  but  in  North 
America  are  represented  -by  only  two  species — Neocorys 
spraguii,  the  Prairie-Lark  of  the  north-western  plains,  and 
Anthus  ludovicianus,  the  American  Titlark,  which  last  is 
very  nearly  allied  to  the  so-called  Water-Pipit  of  Europe, 
A.  spipoletta.  To  most  English  readers  the  best  known 
species  of  Pipit  is  the  Titlark  or  Meadow- Pi  pit,  A.  pratensis, 
a  bird  too  common  to  need  description,  and  abundant  on 
pastures,  moors,  and  uncultivated  districts  generally  ;  but 
in  some  localities  the  Tree-Pipit,  A.  trivialis,  or  A.  arhoreus 
of  some  authors,  takes  its  place,  and  where  it  does  so  it 
usually  attracts  attention  by  its  loud  song,  which  is  not 
unlike  that  of  a  Canary-bird,  but  delivered  (as  appears  to 
be  the  habit  of  all  the  Pipits)  on  the  wing  and  during  a 
short  circuitous  flight.  Another  species,  the  Eock-Lark,* 
A.  obtcurus,  scarcely  ever  leaves  the  sea-coast  and  is  found 
almost  all  round  the  British  Islands.  The  South-African 
genus  Macronyx,  remarkable  for  the  extreme  length  of  its 
hind  claw,  -.  is  generally  placed  among  the  Pipits,  but 
differs  from  all  the  rest  in  its  brighter  coloration,  which 
has  a  curious  resemblance  to  the  American  genus  Stumella 
(see  IcTEEUS,  vol.  xii.  p.  697),  though  the  bird  is  certainly, 
not  aUied  thereto.  (a.  n.) 

PIPPI,  GnjLio  (c.  1492-1546),^  the  head  of  the  Roman 
school  of  painting  in  succession  to  Raphael.  This  prolific 
painter,  modeller,  architect,  and  engineer  is  currently 
named  Giulio  (or  Julio)  Romano,  from  the  place  of  his 
birth — Rome,  in  the  MaceUo  de'  Corbi.  His  name  in  full 
was  Giulio  di  Pietro  di  Filippo  de'  Gia.nnuzzi, — Giannnzzi 
being  the  true  family  name,  and  Pippi  (which  has  prac- 
tically superseded  Giannuzzi)  being  an  abbreviation  from 
the  name  of  his  grandfather  Filippo. 
iThe  date  of  Giulio's. birth  is  a  little  uncertain."' Vasari 
(who  knew  him  personally)  speaks  of  him  as  fifty-four 
years  old  at  the  date  of  his  death,  Ist  November 
1546;  thus  he  would  have  been  bom  in  1492.  Other 
accounts  assign  1498  as  the  date  of  birth.  This  would 
make  Giulio  young  indeed  in  the  early  and  in  such  case 
most  precocious  stages  of  his  artistic  career,  and  would 
show  him  as  .djdng,  after  an  infinity  of  hard  work,  at  the 
comparatively  early  age  of  forty -eight. 

Giulio   must  at   all  events  have  been  quite  youthful 

^  Pipits  can  always  be  distinguished  from  Larks  by  having  the  hind 
part  of  the  .^tarsuj"  undivided,  while  the  Larks  have  it  scutellateJ. 


p  I  p  p  I 


113 


■when   be   first  'became   the   pupil   of   Raphael,    and    at 
Raphael's  death  in  1520  he  was  at  the  utmost  twenty- 
eight  years  of  age.     Raphael  had  loved  him  as  a  son,  and 
had  employed  him  in  some  leading  works,  especially  in  the 
Loggie  of  the  Vatican ;  the  series  there  popularly  termed 
"  Raphael's  Bible  "  is  done  in  large  measure  by  Giulio, — 
as  for  instance  the  subjects  of  the  Creation  of  Adam  and 
Eve,  Noah's  Ark,  and  Moses  in  the  Bulrushes.     In  the 
saloon  of  the  "  Incendio  del  Borgo,"  also,  the  figures  of 
Benefactors  of  the  Church  (Charlemagne,  &c.)  are  Giulio's 
handiwork.     It  would  appear  that  in  subjects  of  this  kind 
Raphael  simply  furnished  the  design,  and  committed  the 
execution  of  it  to  some  assistant,  sach  as  Giulio, — taking 
heed,  however,  to  bring  it  up,  bv  final  retouching,  to  his 
own  standard  of  style  and  typdf     Giulio  at  a  later  date 
followed   out   exactly   the   same   plan ;  so   that   in  both 
instances  inferiorities  of  method,  in  the  general  blocking- 
out  and  even  in  the  details  of  the  work,  are  not  to  be  pre- 
cisely charged  upon  the  caposcuola.     Amid  the  multitude 
of  Raphael's  pupils,  Giulio  was  eminent  in  pursuing  his 
style,  and  showed  universal  aptitude ;  he  did,  among  other 
things,  a  large  amount  of  architectural  planning  for  his 
chief.     Raphael  bequeathed  to  Giulio,  and  to  his  fellow- 
pupil  Gianfrancesco  Penni  ("  II  Fattore"),  his  implements 
and  works  of  art ;  and  upon  them  it  devolved  to  bring  to 
completion  the  vast  fresco-work  of  the  "  Hall  of  Constan- 
tine  "  in  the  Vatican — consisting,  along  with  much  minor 
matter,  of  the  four  large  subjects,  the  Battle  of  Constan- 
tine,  the  Apparition  of  the  Cross,  the  Baptism  of  Constan- 
tino, and  the  Donation  of  Rome  to  the  Pope.     The  two 
former  compositions   were   executed   by  Pippi,    the   two 
latter  by  Penni.     The  whole  of  this  onerous  undertaking 
was  completed  within  a  period  of  only  three  years, — which 
is  the  more  remarkable  as,  during  some  part  of  the  in- 
terval since  Raphael's  decease,  the  Fleming,  Adrian  VI., 
had  been  pope,  and  his  anti-aesthetic  pontificate  had  left 
art  and  artists  almost  in  a  state  of  inanition.     Clement 
VII.  had  now,  however,  succeeded  to  the  popedom.     By 
this  time  Giulio  was  regarded  as  the  first  painter  in  Rome ; 
but  his  Roman  career  was  fated  to  have  no  further  sequel. 
Towards  the   end   of    1524   his  friend  the  celebrated 
■  -writer  Baldassar  Castiglione   seconded   with   success  the 
urgent  request  of  the  duke  of  Mantua,  Federigo  Gonzaga, 
that  Giulio  should  migrate   to  that   city,  and  enter  the 
duke's  service  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  out  his  projects 
in  architecture  atid  pictorial  decoration.     Those  projects 
were  already  considerable,  and  under  Giulio's  management 
they  became  far  more  extensive  still.     The  duke  treated 
his  painter   munificently  as  to  house,  table,  horses,  and 
whatever   was    in    request ;    and    soon    a    very   cordial 
attachment  sprang  up  between  them.     In  Pippi's  multi- 
farious  work  in   Mantua    three    principal   undertakings 
.should  bo   noted.      (1)  In   the   Castello  he  painted  the 
History  of  Troy,  along  with  other  subjects.     (2)  In  the 
suburban  ducal  residence  named  the  Palazzo  del  T  (this 
designation  being  apparently  derived  from  the  form  of  the 
roads  which  led  towards  the  edifice)  ho  rapidly  carried  out 
a  rebuilding  on  a   vastly  enlarged  scale, — the  materials 
being  brick  and  terracotta,  as  there  is  no  local  stone, — 
and  decorated  the  rooms  with  his  most  celebrated  works 
it.-  oil  and  fresco  painting — the  story  of  Psycho,  Icarus, 
the   Fall  of  the  Titans,  and  the  portraits   of  the   ducal 
horses  and  hounds.      The    foreground    figures   of   Titans 
are  from   12  to    14    feet   high;    the    room,    even    in    its 
structural  details,  is  made  to  subserve  the  general  artistic 
purpose,  and   many  of  its  architectural  features  are  dis- 
torted accordingly.     Greatly  admired    though  these    pre- 
eminent works  have  always  been,  and  at  most  times  even 
more  than  can  now  bo  fully  ratified,  they  have  suffered 
severely  at  the  hands  of  restorers,  and  modern  eyes  see 


them  only  through  a  dull  and  deadening  fog  of  renovation. 
The  whole  of  the  work  on  the  Palazzo  del  T,  which  is  of 
the  Doric  order  of  architecture,  occupied  about  five  years. 
(3)  Pippi  recast  and  almost  rebuilt  the  cathedral  of 
Mantua;  erected  his  own  mansion,  replete  with  nunjerous 
antiques  and  other  articles  of  vertu ;  reconstructed  the 
street  architecture  to  a  very  largo  extent,  and  njado  the 
city,  sapped  as  it  is  by  the  shallows  of  the  Minoio,  com- 
paratively healthy ;  and  at  Marmiruolo,  some  five  miles 
distant  from  Mantua,  he  worked  out  other  important 
buildings  and  paintings.  He  was  in  fact,  for  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  a  sort  of  Demiurgus  of  the  arts  of 
design  in  the  Hantaan  territory. 

Giulio's  activity  was  interrupted  but  not  terminated  by 
the  death  of  Duke  Federigo.  The  duke's  brother,  a 
cardinal  who  became  regent,  retained  him  in  full  em})loy- 
ment.  For  a  while  he  went  to  Bologna,  and  constructed 
the  facade  of  the  church  of  S.  Petronio  in  that  city.  He 
was  afterwards  invited  to  succeed  Antonio  Sangallo  as 
architect  of  St  Peter's  in  Rome,— a  splendid  appointment, 
which,  notwithstanding  the  strenuous  opposition  of  his 
wife  and  of  the  cardinal  regent,  he  had  almost  resolved  to 
accept,  when  a  fever  overtook  him,  and,  acting  upon  a 
constitution  somewhat  enfeebled  by  worry  and  labour, 
carried  him  off  on  1st  November  1546.  He  lies  buried  in 
the  church  of  S.  Barnaba  in  Mantua.  At  the  time  of  his 
death  Giulio  enjoyed  an  annual  income  of  more  than  1000 
ducats,  accruing  from  the  liberalities  of  his  patrons.  He 
left  a  widow,  and  a  son  and  daughter.  The  son,  named 
Rafiaello,  studied  painting,  but  died  before  ho  could  pro- 
duce any  work  of  importance ;  the  daughter,  Virginia, 
married  Ercole  Malatesta. 

Wide  and  solid  knowledge  of  design,  combined  with  a  prompti- 
tude of  composition  that  was  never  at  fault,  formed  the  chief 
motive  power  and  merit  of  Giulio  Romano's  art.  Whatever  was 
wanted,  he  produced  it  at  ouce,  throwing  olf,  ns  Vasari  says,  a 
large  design  in  an  hour  ;  and  he  may  in  that  sense,  though  not 
equally  so  when  an  imaginative  or  ideal  test  is  apjdied,  be  called  a 
great  inventor.  It  would  bo  difficult  to  name  any  oilier  artist  who, 
working  as  an  architect,  and  as  the  plastic  and  pictori.il  embellisher 
of  his  architecture,  produced  a  total  of  work  so  fully  and  homo- 
geneously his  own  ;  hence  ho  has  been  named  "  the  prince  of 
decorators."  Ho  had  great  knowledge. of  the  human  frame,  and 
represented  it  with  force  and  truth,  though  sometimes  with  an 
excess  of  movement ;  he  was  also  learned  in  other  matters, 
especially  in  medals,  and  in  the  plans  of  ancient  buildings.  In 
design  he  was  more  strong  and  emphatic  than  grnccful,  and  worked 
a  great  deal  from  his  accumulated  stores  of  knowledge,  without 
consulting  nature  direct.  As  a  general  rule,  his  designs  are  finer 
and  freer  than  his  paintings,  whether  in  fresco  or  in  oil — his  easel 

Sictures  being  comparatively  few,  and  some  of  them  the  reverse  of 
eccnt ;  hisicolouring  is  marked  by  an  excess  of  blackish  and  heavy 
tints. 

Giulio  Romano  introduced  the  style  of  Raphael  into  Mantun,  and 
established  there  a  considerable  school  of  art,  which  surpassed  in 
development  that  of  his  predecessor  Mantegna,  and  almost  rivalled 
that  ol  Rome.  Very  many  engravings — more  than  three  hundred 
are  mentioned — wore  made  contoinporancously  from  his  works  ;  and 
this  not  only  in  Italy,  but  in  Franco  and  Flanders  as  well.  His 
pl.in  of  entrusting  principally  to  assi.'-.tanLs  the  pictorial  execution 
of  his  cartoons  has  already  been  referred  to  ;  Primoticcio  wos  one 
of  the  leading  coadjutor.i.  Rin.ildo  Mnn^ovano,  a  man  of  groat 
ability  who  died  young,  was  the  chief  executant  of  the  Fall  or  th(j 
Giants  ;  ho  also  cooperated  with  lienedetto  Pagni  da  Pcscia  In 
painting  the  remarkable  series  of  horses  and  hounds,  and  the  stoi-i 
of  Psycho.  Another  pupil  was  Formo  Guisoni,  who  rcmainoill 
settled  in  Mantua.  "The  oil  pictures  of  Giulio  Romano  are  not 
generally  of  liigli  importance;  two  leading  ones  are  the  Slartyrdoni| 
of  .Stephen,  in  the  church  of  that  saint  in  Genoa,  and  a  Holy 
Family  in  the  Dresden  Gallery.  Among  his  architectural  works 
not  already  mentioned  is  the  Villa  Madania  in  Rome,  with  a  fresco 
of  PdlyphemuB,  and  boys  and  satyrs  ;  the  Ionic  fsfado  of  this 
building  may  have  been  sketched  out  by  Raphael. 

Vasari  gives  a  pleasing  impression  of  tlie  character  of  Giulio 
Ho  was  very  loving  to  liis  friends,  Kcninl,  alTablo,  well-bred, 
temperate  in  the  pleasures  of  the  table,  but  liking  fine  opparrl  and 
a  handsome  scale  of  living.  ,  Ho  was  good-looking,  of  nii<ldl« 
Height,  with  bl.ack  curly  hnir  41id  dark  eyes,  aii<l  an  siiiplo  beard  ; 
his  portrait,  painted  by  himself,  is  in  the  l/ouvro,       (W.  M.  R.) 


19-7 


114 


P  I  P  -  P'  I 


Q 


PIPPIN,  or  Pf.piji,  a  name  borne  by  several  members  of 
the  Carlovingian  family.  (1)  Pippin  of  Landen,  or  Pippin 
tlie  Old,  may^/r  of  the  palace,  died  G39.  (2)  His  grand- 
son. Pippin  of  Heristal,  the  father  of  Charles  Martel,  died 
714.  (3)  Cartel's  son,  Pippin  the  Short, ,  king  of  the 
Franks,  died  768.  See,  for  these  three,  Frakce,  vol.  i.^.  p. 
530  sq.  (4)  Pippin,  son  of  Charles  the  Great  (776-810), 
was  his  father's  deputy  in  Italy,  and  as  such  was  anointed 
"king  for  Italy"  by  Pope  Adrian  I.  in  781.  (5)  Pippin, 
second  son  of  Louis  the  Pious,  appointed  king  of  Aquitaine 
by  his  father  in  817,  died  in  838  after  a  reign  spent  in  the 
family  conflicts  of  the  period  (6)  The  son  of  the  iast- 
named  Pippin  was  called  to  the  throne  by  the  Aquitanians 
on  his  father's  death,  and  maintained  himself  with  varying 
fortunes  against  Charles  the  Bald,  to  whom  Louis  had 
■given  the  vacant  throne,  till  in  864  he  was  taken  by 
treachery  and  soon  died  in  confinement. 

PIQUA,  a  city  of  Miami  county,  Ohio,  U.S.,  is  situated 
in  a  rich  agricultural  district  on  the  Miami  river,  on  the 
Miami  and  Erie  Canal,  and  on  the  Pittsburgh,  Cincinnati, 
and  St  Louis  and  the  Cincinnati  and  Michigan  railways, 
about  90  miles  N.  by  E.  of  Cincinnati.  Besides  a  large 
agricultural  trade  the  city  has  woollen  manufactures,  iron 
foundries,  and  agricultural  machine  works.  The  popula- 
tion, 3277  in  1850,  was  5967  in  1870  and  6131  in  1880. 

PIQUET,  a  game  at  cards.  The  name,  of  uncertain 
etymology,  is  probably  from  pique  (the  spade  suit).  The 
Germans  had  formerly  a  Sckioerter  game,  the  packs  used 
being  like  piquet  packs.  The  pique  of  French  cards  corre- 
sponds to  the  spade  (sword)  of  Italian  and  to  the  espadas 
of  Spanish  cards.     Hence  piquet  may  be  the  sivord  game. 

It  seems  likely  that  piquet  is  a  development  of  ronfa,  a 
game  mentioned  by  Berni  in  1526  ;  la  ronJJe  (included  in 
Kabelais's  list,  circa  1530)  may  be  regarded  as  the  same 
game.     The  point  at  piquet  was  anciently  called  ronfle. 

The  Spanish  name  of  the  game  was  cientos  {centum,  a 
hundred).  Piquet  was  played  in  England  under  the  name 
of  cent,  or  sant,  probably  as  early  as  1550  (contemporane- 
ously with  the  marriage  of  Mary  to  Philip  of  Spain). 
About  the  middle  of  the  17th  century  (shortly  after  the 
marriage  of  Charles.  I.  to  Maria  Henrietta  of  France)  the 
name  cent  was  diopped  in  England,  and  the  French  eaui- 
valent,  piquet,  adopted. 

Piquet  is  played  by  two  persons,  with  a  pack  of  thirty- 
two  cards, — the  oixes,  fives,  fours,  threes,  and  twos. being 
thrown  out  from  a  complete  pack.  Until  recently  the 
partie  was  the  best  of  five  games  of  a  hundred  up  (a  player 
not  obtaining  fifty  losing  a  double  game).  But  now  the 
paHie  is  generally  determined  in  sLs  hands,  the  player 
making  the  largest  aggregate  score  being  the  winner. 
The  number  of  points  won  is  the  difference  between  the 
two  scores,  with  a  hundred  added  for  the  game.  If,  how- 
ever, the  loser  fails  to  make  a  hundred  in  six  hands,  the 
number  of  points  won  is  the  two  scores  added  together, 
with  a  hundred  for  the  game.  Piquet  played  in  this  way 
is  called  Rubicon  Piquet. 

The  dealer  (see  "Laws")  deals  twelve  cards  to  his  adversary 
and  twelve  to  himself,  by  two  at  a  time  or  by  three  at  a  time  to 
each  alternately.  He  then  places  the  undealt  cards,  called  the 
stock,  face  downwards  on  the  table. 

Thep-.ayers  now  look  at  their  hands  and  discard,  i.e.,  put  out, 
Buch  cards  as  they  deem  advisable,  and  take  in  an  equivalent 
number  from  the  stock.  The  elder  hand  (non-dealer)  may  exchange 
five  or  any  less  number.  He  separates  his  discard  from  his  hand, 
places  it  face  downwards  on  the  table,  and  takes  from  the  top 
of  the  stock  the  number  discarded.  If  he  discards  less  than  five, 
he  must  state  how  many  he  leaves.  He  is  entitled  to  look  at  cards 
he  leaves,  replacing  them  face  downwards  on  the  top  of  the  stock. 

The  younger  hand  may  exchange  three  cards  or  any  less  number. 
If  the  elder  nand  leaves  any  cards,  the  younger  may  exchange  as 
many  as  remain  in  the  stock,  discarding  an  equal  number.  He 
takes  his  cards  from  the  top  of  the  stock,  including  any  left  by  the 
elder  hand.     If  the  younger  hand  leaves  any  cards,  he  announces 


the  number  left  He  has  the  option  of  looking  at  cards  lie  leaves. 
If  he  looks  at  them,  he  must  show  them  to  the  elder  Iiand,  afteC 
the  elder  has  named  the  suit  he  will  first  lead,  or  has  led  a  card. 
If  the  younger  hand  elects  not  to  look  at  the  cards  left  the  elder 
cannot  see  tliem.  The  younger  hand  must  make  his  election  before 
he  plays  to  the  card  first  led,  or,  if  so  required,  after  the  dealer  has 
named  the  suit  he  will  first  lead. 

Each  pl.ayer  may  examine  his  own  discard  at  any  time  during 
the  hand  ;  but  he  must  keep  it  separate  from  his  other  cards. 

The  elder  hand  next  calls  his  point,  sequences,  and  quatorzes  or 
trios,  and,  if  good,  scores  for  them. 

The  point  must  be  called  first  or  the  right  to  call  a  point  is  lost. 
It  is  scored  by  tiie  player  who  announces  the  suit  of  greatest 
strength,  valued  thus  :  ace,  11  ;  court  cards,  10  each  ;  other  cards, 
the  number  of  piys  on  each.  Thus,  if  the  elder  hand's  best  suit  is 
ace,  king,  knave,  nine,  eight,  he  calls  "  five  cards."  If  the  younger 
hand  has  no  suit  of  five  cards,  he  says  "good."  The  elder  hard 
then  says  "in  spades,"  or  whatever  the  suit  may  be,  or  shows  his 
point  face  upwards.  If  the  younger  hand  has  a  suit  of  more  th:iii 
five  cards,  he  says  "not  good."  If  the  younger  hand  has  also  fiv-e 
cards,  he  says  "  equal "  or  ' '  what  do  they  make  ? "  when  the  elder 
calls  "forty  eight"  (or  "making  eight,"  short  for  forty-eight). 
The  younger  must  not  inquire  what  the  point  makes  unless  he  has 
an  equal  number  of  cards.  If  the  younger  hand's  five  cards  make 
less  than  forty-eight  he  says  "good"  ;  if  exactly  forty-eight  he 
says  "  equal"  ;  if  more  than  forty-eight,  he  says  "not  good," 

The  player  whose  point  is  good  reckons  one  for  each  card  of  it  ; 
if  the  points  are  equal  neither  player  scores  for  point. 

Sequences  are  usually  called  next,  the  elder  hand  stating  what 
his^est  sequence  is,  and  the  younger  saying,  "good,"  "equal,"  or 
"  hot  good,"  as  in  the  case  of  the  point.  Any  three  or  more  con- 
secutive cards  of  the  same  suit  held  in  hand  constitute  a  sequence. 
The  order  of  the  cards  is  as  follows  : — ace  (highest),  king,  queen, 
knave,  ten,  nine,  eight,  seven  (lowest).  A  sequence  of  three  cards 
is  called  a  tierce ;  of  four,  a  quart ;  of  five,  a  quint ;  of  six,  a 
sixiime  ;  of  seven,  a  scptiime;  of  eight,  a  huiliiyne,  A  tierce  of 
ace,  king,  queen  is  called  a  tierce  major ;  a  tierce  of  king,  queen, 
knave  is  called  tierce  to  a  king  (and  so  -on  for  other  intermediate 
sequences  according  to  the  card  which  heads  them) ;  a  tierce  of 
nine,  eight,  seven  is  called  a  tierce  minor.  Sequences  of  four  or 
more  cards  follow  the  same  nomenclature,  e.g.,  ace,. king,  queen, 
knave  is  a  quart  major ;  knave,  ten,  nine,  eight  is  a  quart  to  a 
knave  ;  and  so  on. 

A  sequence  of  a  greater  nnmoer  of  cards  is  good  against  a 
sequence  of  a  smaller  number  ;  thus,  a  quart  minor  is  good  against 
a  tierce  major.  As  between  sequences  containing  the  same  number 
of  cards,  the  one  headed  by  the  highest  card  is  good  ;  thus,  a 
quart  to  a  queen  is  good  against  a  quart  to  a  knave.  Only  iden- 
tical sequences  can  be  equal. 

The  elder  hand  announces,  say,  a  quint  major.  If  the  younger 
has  a  sixieme  he  says  "  not  good  "  ;  if  he  has  a  quint  major  he 
says  "  equal "  ;  if  he  has  a  lower  sequence,  or  no  sequence,  he  says 
"good."  The  player  whose  sequence  is  good  reckons  one  for  each 
card  of  it,  and  ten  in  addition  for  quints  or  higher  sequences. 
Thus  a  tierce  counts  three  ;  a  quart,  four  ;  a  quint,  fifteen  (5  + 10) ; 
a  sixieme,  sixteen  ;  and  so  on.  If  tlie  elder  hand's  sequence  i| 
good,  he  names  the  suit,  or  shows  it  face  upwards. 

If  the  highest  sequence  (or  the.  sequence  first  called)  is  good,  ali 
lower  sequences  can  be  reckoned,  notwithstanding  that  the  adver- 
sary has  a  sequence  of  intermediate  value.  For  example,  A  has 
a  quart  to  a  queen  (good),  and  a  tierce  minor.  He  calls  and 
reckons  seven,  notwithstanding  that  B  has  a  quart  to  a  knave. 
B's  quart  counts  nothing. 

If  the  highest  sequence  is  equal,  neither  player  scores  anything 
for  sequence,  even  though  oiSe  player  may  hold  a  second  sequence 
of  equal  or  inferior  value. 

Quatorzes  are  composed  of  four  aces,  four  Kings,  four  queens,  four 
knaves,  or  four  tens  ;  trios  of  three  of  any  of  these.  They  are 
called  and  reckoned  as  before,  except  that  here  there  can  be  no 
equality.  A  quatorze,  if  good,  reckons  fourteen  :  a  trio,  if  good, 
reckons  three.  Any  quatorze  is  good  against  a  trio  ;  if  each  player 
has  a  quatorze  the  highest  is.  good  ;  the  same  if  each  has  a  trio. 
As  in  the  case  of  sequences,  anything  that  is  good  enables  the 
player  to  reckon  all  smaller  quatorzes  or  trios  in  his  hand.  A 
quatorze  or  trio  is  called  thus  : — the  elder  hand  says  "four  aces," 
"three  queens,"  or  as  the  case  may  be;  the  younger  replies 
"good"  or  "not  good,"  as  before.  When  a  player  calls  a  trio  of 
a  denomination  of  which  he  might  hold  a  quatorze,  the  adversary 
is  entitled  to  be  informed  which  card  is  not  reckoned.  Thus,  A, 
who  might  hold  four  kings,  calls  "three  kings";  B  says 
"good"  ;  A  says  "I  do  not  reckon  the  king  of  diamonds,"  or 
whichever  king  it  may  be  that  he  has  put  out  or  suppresses. 

When  the  elder  hand  has  done  calling  he  leads  a  card.  Before 
playing  to  this  card,  the  younger  hand  reckons  all  that  he  has 
good,  stating  of  what  cards  his  claims  are  composed,  or  showing 
the  cai-ds  claimed  for. 

The  next  step  is  playing  the  hands.     The  elder  hand  leads  and 


PIQUET 


115 


pii-.l  lie  pleases  ;  t!io  younger  plays  to  it.  The  youncer  hand  must 
f.illu«'  suit  if  aljlo  ;  otherwise  he  may  play  any  card  ne  thinks  lit. 
Tile  two  cards  thus  played  constitute  a  trick.  The  trick  is  won 
bv  the  higlier  card  of  the  suit  led.  It  is  not  compulsory  to  win 
(he  irick  if  able  to  follow  suit  without.  The  winner  of  the  trick 
(cads  to  tlio  next,  and  so  nn  until  the  twelve  cards  in  hand  are 
played  out. 

During  the  play  of  the  hands  the  leader  counts  one  for  each 
laid  led,  whether  it  wins  the  trick  or  not.  If  the  leader  wins  the 
trick,  his  adver.<ary  reckons  nothing  that  trick  ;  but  if  the  second 
player  wins  the  trick  he  also  counts  one  ;  and  so  on.  The  winner 
i)f  the  last  trick  counts  two  instead  of  one. 

The  tricks  are  left  face  upwards  on  the  table,  in  front  of  the 
player  who  wins  them.  They  may  bo  examined  by  either  player 
»t  any  time. 

If  each  player  wins  six  tricks  the  cards  are  divided,  and  there  is 
po  further  score.  If  one  player  wins  more  than  six  tricks  ho  wins 
the  cards,  and  adds  ten  Xo  his  score.  If  one  player  wins  every 
trick,  he  wins  a  capol,  and  scores  forty  for  the  cards,  instead  of  ten. 

During  the  play  of  the  hand,  a  player  is  entitled  to  be  informed 
as  to  any  cards  liis  adversary  holds  whicli  he  has  reckoned  as  good, 
or  has  declared  to  bo  equal.  A  player  may  require  his  adversary 
to  exhibit  any  such  cards  ;  but  the  usual  practice  is  to  reply  to  all 
necessary  questions  with  regard  to  them,  such  as  "  how  many  of 
your  point?"  meaning  how  many  in  hand,  "how  many  of  your 
tierce ! "  and  so  on. 

Liming  iiie  progress  of  the  hand  each  jilaycr  repeats  aloud  the 
amount  of  his  score  for  the  time  being  (see  example).  At  the  end 
of  the  hand  the  number  scored  is  recorded  on  a  ruled  card.     Each 

fdayer  has  a  card  and  writes  down  the  scores  of  both  himself  and 
lis  opponent.  At  the  end  of  the  sixth  hand,  the  totals  are  recorded, 
auJ  the  necessary  subtraction  or  addition  made.  The  scores  are 
then  compared.  If  there  is  any  difference  in  tlie  written  scores,  a 
ulayer's  score  of  his  own  hand  is  deemed  to  be  the  correct  ono. 

Example. — A  (elder  hand)  has"dealt  him  ace,  king,  knave  of 
spades  ;  ace,  queen,  knave,  eight  of  hearts  ;  knave,  eight,  seven  of 
tr.ibs  ;  and  nine,  eight  of  diamonds.  He  discards  king  of  spades  ; 
eight,  seven  of  clubs  ;  and  nine,  eight  of  diamonds.  Mo  takes  in 
nine,  eight  of  spades  ;  king  of  hearts  ;  nine  of  clubs;  and  king  6f 
diamonds. 

B  (younger  hand)  has  ten,  seven  of  spades  ;  ten,  nine,  seven  of 
hearts  ;  king,  queen,  ten  of  clubs  ;  and  ace,  queen,  knave,  ten  of 
diamonds.  He  discards  seven  of  spades  ;  and  nine,  seven  of  hearts. 
He  takes  in  queen  of  spades  ;  ace  of  clubs;  and  seven  of  diamonds. 

The  hand  tlien  proceeds  thus.  A  (calls  his  point)  "  five  cards." 
Il  (says)  "  equal,"  or  "  what  do  they  make  ?" 

A  "forty-nine,"  or  "  making  nine."    B  "good." 

A  (counting  his  point)  "  five  "  and  (counting  his  sequence,  which 
is  good)  "a  quart  major,  nine.     Three  knaves  ?  "     B  "  not  good." 

A  (leads  ace  of  hearts  and  says)  "  ten."  B  "  four  tens,  fourteen, 
and  threo  queens,  seventeen  "  (plays  the  ten  of  hearts). 

A  (leads  the  remaining  hearts  and  says)  "eleven,  twelve, 
thirteen,  fourteen."  B  (plajs  seven,  ten,  knave,  queen  of 
diamonds,  and  repeating  his  score,  says)  "seventeen." 

A  has  now  five  tiTck3,and  in  order  to  win  the  cards  should  lead  an  v 
cnrd  but  a  high  spade.  He  leads  king  of  diamonds, nnd  says  "  fifteen.'' 
B  (wins  with  ace  and  says)  "  eighteen,"  (and  then  leads  tlic  winning 
clubs,  saying)  "nineteen,  twenty,  twenty-one,  twenty-two 

A  (keens  ace,  knave  of  clubs,  and  repeating  his  scoi'e  says) 
"fifteen.'      B  (leads  queen  of  spades  and  says)  "  twenty-three." 

A  (wins  with  ace  and  says)  "  sixteen  "  (and  leads  knave,  saying) 
"eighteen"  (and  adding  ten  for  the  cards)  "  twenty-eight." 

A  then  writes  on  his  scoring  cud  28  ;  23.     B  writes  on  his  23  ;  | 
28.     The  pack  is  collected,  and  tlio  next  hand  commences. 

Three  scores  (omitted  in  order  to  simplify  the  descrijition  of  the 
game)  have  yet  to  be  mentioned.' 

Carte  Blanche. — If  either  player  has  neithef  king,  queen,  nor 
knave  in  the  hand  dealt  him,  he  holds  carte  blanche,  for  which  ho 
scores  ten.  As  soon  as  a  player  discovers  ho  has  a  earte  blanche, 
he  must  tell  his  adversary  ;  this  he  usually  does  by  saying  "  dis- 
card for  carle  blanche."  The  adverse  discard  is  ilicii  made  (as 
explained  under  discarding),  after  which  the  carte  blanche  is  shown 
by  dealing  the  cards  quickly  one  on  top  of  the  other,  faco  upwards 
on  the  table. 

Pijuc.—K  the  elder  hand  scores,  in  hand  and  play,  thirty  or 
more,  before  the  younger  counts  anything,  he  gains  a  jnque,  for 
which  ho  adds  thirty  to  hia  score.  For  example,  A  has  a  quint 
'""JO"'.  gooJ  for  point  and  sequence,  and  three  aces,  also  good. 
For  thcso  he  coi'nts  twenty-three  in  hand.  Ho  next  leads  the 
quint  major  (twenty-eight),  ono  of  the  aces  and  another  canl, 
making  him  thirty.  Ho  then  adds  thirty  for  the  pique  and  calls 
hiE  score  "sixty." 

Tiepti/uc. — If  a  player  scores,  in  hand  alone,  thirty  or  more, 
hofoio  his  adversary  reckons  pnything,  ho  gains  u  rc]nquf,  for  which 
he  adds  sixty  to  his  score.  Thus,  point,  quint,  and  quatorzc,  all 
good,  make  thirty-four.  A  player  holding  these  adds  sixty  for  the 
icpiquo,  and  calls  his  score  "  ninety- four." 


The  order  in  which  the  scores  accrue  is  of  importance.  For  the 
sake  of  convenience,  the  elder  hand  finishes  his  reckoning  before 
the  younger  begins.  The  scores,  however,  wlietlier  made  by  the 
elder  or  younger  hand  are  recordable  in  the  following  order :— (1) 
carte  blanche  ;  (2)  point ;  (3)  sequences ;  (4)  quatorzes  and  trios  ; 
(5)  points  made  in  play  ;  (6)  the  cards.  This  will  often  allect  a 
pique  or  repique.  'Ihus,  a  piqu"  can  only  bo  mado  by  the  elder 
hand,  as  the  ono  he  reckons  in  play  when  ho  leads  his  first  card 
counts  before  points  subsequently  made  in  play  by  the  younger 
hand.  The  youfiger,  therefore,  cannot  make  thirty  in  hand  and 
play  before  the  elder  scores  one.  But  the  one  reckoned  by  the 
elder  hand  when  he  leads  his  first  card  docs  not  prevent  hi;  being 
repiqued,  because  scores  mado  in  hand  have  precedence  of  points 
made  in  play.  The  elder  leads  his  first  card  and  counts  for  it 
before  the  younger  reckons,  simply  an  a  couveuient  way  of  stating 
that  he  has  nothing  in  hand  wtiicli  is  good.  Again,  say  A  has  t 
quint  (good),  a  tierce,  and  a  quatorzo  (good).  He  scores  thirty-two 
in  hand  alone  ;  but,  if  his  point  is  not  good,  he  does  not  gain  a. 
repique,  because  the  younger  hand's  point  is  recordable  in  ordei 
before  the  sequences  and  quatorze.  And  again,  say  A  has  a  httitiimt 
(good  for  twenty-six),  and  a  tierce,  and  leads  a  card  tlius  reaching 
thirty  in  hand  and  play.  B  has  threo  tens.  The  t:io  reckoning 
in  order  before  the  point  made  in  play  by  A  saves  a  pique. 

Carle  blanche,  taking  precedence  of  all  other  scores,  savfs  piques 
and  tfpiques.  It  also  counts  towards  piques  and  repiquea.  Thus, 
a  player  showing  earte  blanche,  and  having  point  and  quint,  both 
good,  would  repique  his  adversary. 

A  eapot  does  not  count  towards  a  piquij,  as  the  capot  is  not  made 
in  play.     It  is  added  after  the  play  of  the  hand  is  ever. 

A  player  who  reckons  nothing  that  hand  a.s  a  penalty  (sec 
"  Laws  ")  is  not  piqued  or  repiqued  if  he  holds  any  cards  which, 
but  for  the  penalty,  would  have  reckoned  before  his  adversary 
reached  thirty. 

Equalities  do  not  prevent  piqnes  or  repiques.  A  player  whc 
has  an  equal  point  or  sequence  scores  nothing  for  it.  ITierefore  if, 
notwithstanding  the  equality,  a  player  makes  thirty,  in  hand  and 
play,  or  in  hand,  by  scores  which  reckon  in  order  before  anything 
his  adversary  can  count,  he  gains  a  pique  or  a  repique. 

Hintsto  Players. — On  taking  up  your  hand  look  lor  cane  blanelie. 

Before  discarding,  ascertain  wliat  there  is  ag.ainst  yon.  Thus:  il 
you  have  knave  or  ten  of  a  suit,  there  is  no  quint  against  you  in 
that  suit. 

When  discarding,  elder  hand,  your  main  object  is  to  plan  an 
attack.  Younger  hand,  on  the  contrary,  should  guard  his  weak 
places  and  then  see  if  he  has  a  chance  of  attacking  anywhere. 
Thus,  the  elder  hand  may  freely  ungiiard  kings  and  que^s,  ot 
discard  whole  suits  of  which  he  has  indillerent  cards  only.  The 
younger  should  do  just  the  reverse,  keeping  guards  to  kings  and 
queens,  and  should  not  leave  himself  blank  of  a  weak  suit,  as  his 
small  cards  may  guard  high  ones  taken  in. 

In  most  hands,  and  especially  younger  hand,  it  is  essential  to 
keep  tlio  whole  of  your  best  suit  for  point.  Gaining  the  point 
makes  an  average  diifeience  of  at  least  ten  to  the  score  ;  and,  what 
is  of  more  consequence,  it  saves  piques  and  repiques. 

The  cards  are  next  in  importance  to  the  point.  In  discarding 
you  should,  when  in  doubt,  take  the  best  chance  of  dividing  oi 
winning  the  cards.  Winning  the  cards  instead  of  losing  tlieni 
makes  a  diU'crenco  of  about  twenty-three  points.  Hence,  especially 
elder  hand,  you  should  not  necessarily  keep  the  longest  suit  foi 
point,  if  that  suit  is  composed  of  low  cards,  and  keeping  it  involves 
the  discard  of  high  cards  from  other  suits. 

As  a  rule,  it  is  not  advisable  to  leavo^ny  cards.  The  younget 
hand  is  at  less  disadvantage  in  leaving  a  card  than  the  older  ;  foi 
a  card  left  by  the  elder  can  be  taken  by  tho  younger  ;  but  a  card 
left  by  the  younger  is  only  excluded  from  his  hand.  A  card  may 
generally  bo  left  when  there  is  a  chance  of  a  great  score  if  the  cardi 
in  hand  ore  not  parted  with,  there  being  at  the  sanio  tiino  no  piqut 
or  rcjiiquo  against  you. 

It  i3»^enerally  right  to  keep  unbroken  suits.  Having  made  u|. 
your  mind  to  discard  from  a  given  suit,  you  should  thriiw  tli< 
whole  of  it,  except  (o)  winning  cards  ;  (b)  guards  to  kings  or  queens 
especially  younger  hand  ;  or  (c)  cards  which  make  up  a  quaturzi 
or  trio.  It  is  better  to  keep  cards  in  sequence  than  cards  not  in 
sequence.  Trios  should  bo  kept  if  they  can  bo  retained  without 
injury  to  tho  hand  in  other  respects;  but  it  is  seldom  advisable  to 
put  out  a  high  card  for  the  sake  of  kicping  a  trioof  knave*  or  toii.'<, 
especially  if  there  is  a  quator/!0  against  you. 

Tho  discard  is  further  allVctid  in  the  last  hand  of  n  portie  by 
tho  state  of  tho  score.  Thus,  if  you  are  a  long  way  beliin^d,  and 
your  only  chance  is  a  desperate  discard,  in  order  to  keep  curds  whirl, 
may  possibly  give  you  a  pique  or  a  repi(|Uo,  you  may  run  consider- 
able risk  Willi  that  object.  On  tho  other  hand,  if  you  are  wtdl 
ahead,  make  a  safe  discard,  i.e.,  ono  which  is  likely  to  win  tho 
canls  or  to  keep  your  adversary  back. 

When  taking  in  after  discanliiig,  count  that  yon  leave  the  full 
number  of  cards  for  tho  younger  iiand,  tho  penalty  for  taking  id 
one  of  your  adversary's  cards  being  that  jrou  e4D  reckon  notUin 


116 


r  I  R  —  p  I  R 


that  deal.  The  younger  hand  should  also  count  .that  the  proper 
number  of  cards  are  in  the  stock,  before  he  takes  in,  as,  if  he  mixes 
one  of  the  elder's  card.s  v,-ith  bis  hand,  he  can  reckon  nothing  that 

deal.  .   ■         1 

After  taking  in  and  before  calling  your  hand,  look  through  it  and 
your  discard  to  ascertain  what  remains  against  you.  If  there  is 
anything  against  you  which  is  not  called,  you  will  probably  be 
able  to  judges  from  this  some  portion  of  the  discard,  and  will  so  be 
assisted  in  playing  the  cards.  But  implicit  reliance  must  not  be 
placed  on  this.  For  experienced  players  not  unfrequently  omit  to 
call  some  small  score,  such  as  a  tierce,  in  order  intentionally  to 
mislead  you.  This  manoeuvre  (called  sinking  a  score)  is  especially 
resorted  to  when  a  player  has  a  high  card  unguarded.  In  order  to 
induce  you  to  believe"that  it  is  guarded,  he  will  put  up  with  the 
loss  of  several  points  in  calling,  on  the  chance  of  recouping  himself 
by  afterwards  saving  or  winning'the  cards  in  consequence  of  your 
misconceiving  his  discard. 

If  your  adversary  calls  a  point  which  is  not  good,  you  should  at 
once  note  in  which  suit  it  is  (or  may  be),  in  order  to  count  the 
hand.  If  the  younger  hand  admits  a  point  to  be  good  (as  regards 
the  number  of  cards  that  compose  it),  the  elder  should  observe 
whether  the  younger  could  possibly  have  had  equal  or  better  in  any 
suit.  If  so  he  has  ]irobably  put  out  that  suit.  But  it  may  be 
that  the  younger  hand,  if  a  good  judge  of  the  game,  will  admit  the 
number  of  cards  of  a  point  to  bo  good  when  ho  has  an  equal  number. 
Thus:— A  c.-iUs  five  cards,  and  B  knows,  from  examining  his 
hand  and  discard,  that  there  is  only  one  suit  in  which  A  can  have 
five  cards,  and  that  they  make  fifty.  B  has  five  cards  making 
forty-nine.  B  should  promptly  reply  "good,"  although  he  has 
five  curds  himself ;  because  he  ought  to  know  that  A's  five  cards 
aro  better  than  his.  By  saying  "equal,"  he  unnecessarily  e-xposes 
his  hand. 

In  playing  the  cards,  you  must  be  guided  a  good  deal  by  what 
your  adversary  has  called,  and,  to  some  extent,  by  what  he  has  not 
called.  You  "will  generally  know  several  cards  in  the  adverse  hand, 
or  will  be  able  to  mark  some  that  have  been  put  out.  Sometimes 
you  will  know  all  the  cards.  Thus,  if  the  younger  hand  fails  to 
follow  suit  to  your  first  lead  in  which  you  could  only  have  five  cards, 
it  is  evident  he  has  put  out  three  cards  of  that  suit,  and  you  know 
every  card  in  his  hand. 

Failing  direct  indications,  lead  the  point,  unless  you  have  a  small 
point  and  there  is  a  tenace  in  that  suit  against  you. 

When  playing  to  the  opponent's  lead,  keep  guards  to  kings  and 
queens.  Having  the  clioice  between  throwing  a  card  you  have 
declared  and  one  you  have  not,  prefer  the  former. 

If  you  can  make  a  pique,  lead  your  winning  cards  one  after  the 
other,  without  considering  how  many  of  the  remaining  tricks  you 
■will  lose.  There  is  one  exception  to  this  :— in  the  sixth  hand,  if 
your  losing  the  cards  will  enable  the  younger  hand  to  save  his 
rubicon,  and  your  score  is  such  that  you  can  win  the  partie  without 
the  pique,  you  should  forego  the  pique,  when  by  not  leading  out 
your  winning  cards  immediately  you  can  divide  or  win  the  cards. 

When  you  have  five  or  six  tricks  and  a  winning  card,  lead  the 
winning  card,  unless  certain  that  your  opponent  has  cards  of  that 
suit.  By  playing  otherwise,  jou  risk  eleven  points  for  the  chance 
of  gaining  one  for  the  last  trick.  This,  of  course,  is  liable  to  a 
similar  exception  as  the  previous  case,  viz.,  in  the  sixth  hand 
with  five  tricks  up,  if  you  must  win  the  cards  or  the  last  trick  to 
win  the  partie  or  to  save  the  rubicon. 

In  the  sixth  hand,  if  a  player  has  scored  less  than  a  hundred,  he 
should  consider,  before  calling  or  playing,  whether  he  can  make 
his  aggregate  score  up  to  a  hundred  or  more.  If  he  cannot,  his 
object  should  be  to  reckon  as  little  as  he  can,  and  to  prevent  his 
adversary  from  scoring,  by  making  his  point  or  sequence  equal  (if 
possible),  and  by  endeavouring  to  divide  the  cards.  If  he  is  satis- 
fied he  cannot  divide  the  cards,  and  there  is  no  capot  against  him, 
he  is  at  liberty  to  score  two  (one  for  a  trick  he  wins,  and  one  for  a 
card  he  plays),  and  to  throw  his  cards  down,  allowing  the  adversary 
to  reckon  thirteen  in  play. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  player  who  is  aliead,  and  who  sees  his 
adversary  cannot  reach  a  hundred,  should  endeavour  to  prevent  the 
declaration  of  equalities,  and,  if  he  cannot  win  the  cards  himself, 
should  play  to  lose  them. 

During  the  calling  and  play  of  the  hand,  always  keep  in  mind 
your  adversary's  score  and  satisfy  yourself  that  he  does  not  reckon 
too  many.  •  Mistakes  occur,  even  among  the  most  honourable 
players.  If  your  adversary  reckons  too  few,  you  are  not  bound  to 
correct  hira. 

LnicH  of  Piquet.— \,  A  player  may  shuffle  either  pack,  above  the  table.' 
Tlie  dealer  has  the  right  to  shuffle  last.  2.  A  cut  must  consist  of  at  least  two 
cards.  S.  Highest  has  choioe  of  deal  and  cards.  (Ace  highest,  seven  lowest.)' 
i.  If  a  card  is  exposed  in  cutting  or  before  dealing,  there  must  be  a  fresh 
oat.  5.  The  mode  of  distributing  the  cards  (by  twos  or  by  threes)  must  not 
he  altered  during  tlie  partie.  6.  The  stock  must  be  placed,  in  one  pacliet, 
lace  downwards,  between  the  players.  7.  If  the  cards  are  dealt  wrongly,  the 
error  may  be  rectified  befor*  either  player  heo  taken  np  his  hand,  or  the 
sdvcrsary  may  demand  a  fresh  deal.  8.  If  a  card  belonging  to  the  elder 
baud  or  the  stock  is  exposed  when  dealing,  the  adversary  has  the  option  of  a 
Ar^A  deal    U  there  is  a  faci^d  cui'd  in  the  pack,  there  must  be  a  fresh  deal. 


9.  If,  after  the  deal  is  completed,  more  than  one  card  is  found  to  have  beea 
dealt  wrongly,  or  nine  cards  are  found  in  tlie  stock,  there  must  be  a  fresh 
deal.  The  same  if  the  wrong  pack  is  dealt  witli,  and  the  error  is  discovered 
before  either  player  has  taken  up  his  cards ;  otherwise  the  packs  remain 
changed.  10.  If  only  one  card  has  been  dealt  wrongly,  the  elder  hand, 
after  !  ikilig  at  his  cards  and  before  taking  in  a  card,  has  the  option  of  a 
fresli  deal,  and  if  there  are  only  se\en  cards  in  the  stock,  he  may  alter  his 
discard  (see  Laws  12  57.).  11.  The  players  deal  alternately.  If  a  player 
deals  out  of  turn,  and  the  error  is  discovered  by  either  player  befuro 
he  takes  up  his  eards,  the  deal  is  void,  and  the  right  dealer  deals.  If 
the  error  is  discovered  later,  the  elder  hand  must  deal  twice  running 
with  his  own  pack,  unless  that  or  the  next  deal  is  the  last  of  the  partie^ 
12.  Each  plajcr  is  bound  to  discard  at  least  one  card  (but  see  Laws  21,  22,  and 
23).  13.  When  taking  in,  the  cards  must  be  taken  in  order  from  tlie  top  of  the 
stock.  14.  After  taking  a  card,  a  player  cannot  alter  his  discard  ;  and  if  hft 
tlien  takes  back  any  of  his  discard,  he  must  play  with  more  than  twelve  cards 
(see  Law  30);  it  after  taking  a  card  he  mixes  any  of  lus  hand  with  his  discard,; 
lie  must  play  with  less  than  twelve  cards  (see  Law  29).  15.  If  either  player,^ 
when  taking  in,  exposes  a  card  of  the  stock  belonging  to  his  adversary,  he  can 
reckon  nothing  that  deal.  16.  If  either  player  mixes  with  his  hand  a  card  of 
the  stock  which  belongs  to  his  adversary,  he  can  reckon  nothing  that  deal ; 
or  the  adversary  may  have  a  fresh  deal.  If  he  stands  the  deal  he  can  only 
take  iiisuchofliis  cards  as  have  not  been  mixed.  17.  If  aVlayer  discards  more 
cards  than  he  takes  in,  he  must  play  with  less  tlian  twelve  cards  (see  Law 
29).  18.  If  a  player  discards  fewer  cards  than  he  takes  in,  he  can  reckon 
notliing  that  deal.  19.  The  adversary  has  the  option  of  not  enforcing  the 
penalty  of  reckoning  nothing  that  deal.  20.  If  the  younger  hand  leaves  any 
cardsand  mixes  them  with  his  discard,  without  showing  them  to  the  elder  hand, 
the  elder,  after  leading  a  card,  is  entitled  to  see  the  younger's  discard.  21. 
If  the  elder  hand  elects  to  stand  the  deal  when  one  card  has  been  dealt  wrongly, 
and  he  has  thirteen  cards,  he  must  discard  one  card  more  than  he  takes  in, 
and  must  discard  at  least  two  cards.  If  tJiere  are  eight  cards  in  the  stock,  the 
younger  hand  discards  one  less  than  he  takes  in,  and  if  he  only  takes  one  card 
he  need  uot  discard  any ;  if  there  are  seven  cards  in  the  stock,  and  the  elder 
h.ind  discards  six  cards  and  takes  hve,  the  younger  hand  can  only  take  two 
cards.  22.  If  the  elder  hand  elects  to  stand  the  deal  when  he  has  eleven  cards, 
and  there  are  eight  in  the  stock,  he  must  discard  one  less  than  he  takes  in ; 
if  he  only  takes  one  card  He  need  not  discard  any.  The  younger  hand  must 
discard  one  more  than  he  t.ikes  in,  and  must  discard  at  least  two  cards.  23. 
If  the  elder  hand  elects  to  stand  the  deal  when  he  has  twelve  cards,  and  there 
are  seven  in  the  stock,  he  discards  the  same  number  as  he  takes  in ;  the 
younger  discards  one  more  than  he  takes  in,  and  must  discard  at  least  two 
cards.  24.  When  the  elder  hand's  call  is  good  against  the  cards,  it  is  suffi- 
cient if  he  states  the  number  of  cards  that  compose  it;  if  not  he  must  say 
what  it  makes  or  to  what  card  it  is,  or  the  value  of  the  cards  of  which  it  con- 
sists. 25.  The  elder  hand  calling  ton  little  may  correct  his  miscall  before  it 
has  been  replied  to  by  the  younger  hand  ;  and  the  younger  hand,  allowing  a 
correct  call  to  be  good  or  equal,  when  he  holds  better,  may  correct  his  reply 
before  the  elder  hand  has  made  another  call,  or,  if  there  is  no  further  call, 
before  the  elder  hand  has  led  a  card.  26.  If  a  player  calls  what  he  docs  not 
hold,  he  may  correct  liis  call  before  the  younger  hand  has  played  to  the  first 
trick ;  and,  if  the  younger  hand  has  miscalled,  the  elder  hand  may  take  up  his 
card  and  play  dilferently.  In  the  absence  of  correction,  the  offender  can 
reckon  nothing  that  deal,  and  the  adversary,  on  discovery  of  the  error,  can 
reckon  anything  he  has  good,  which  is  not  barred  by  a  correct  call  made  iu 
addition  to  the  miscall.  But  there  is  no  penalty  for  calling  anything  which 
a  player  could  not  possibly  hold  in  his  hand  and  discard  taken  together,  nor 
for  misnaming  a  suit,  nor  for  misnaming  the  rank  of  a  sequence,  when  one  of 
the  counting  value  named  is  held,  provided  the  claim  could  not  have  been 
held  in  the  hand  and  discard  taken  together;  and.  If  a  player  voluntarily 
shows  what  he  claims  for,  he  is  liable  to  no  penalty  for  miscalling  it.  27.  A 
player  who  calls  anything  which  is  allowed  to  be  good  or  equal  must  show 
the  cards  called  at  any  time  they  are  asked  for  during  the  play  of  the  hand. 
23.  When  the  younger  hand  lias  played  to  the  first  trick,  neither  player  can 
reckon  anything  omitted  (but  see  Law  2C).  29.  A  player  is  liable  to  no  penalty 
for  playing  with  less  than  twelve  cards.  His  adversary  counts  as  tricks  all 
eards  that  cannot  be  played  to.  30.  If  a  player  plays  with  more  than  twelve 
cards,  ho  can  reckon  nothing  that  deal ;  but  his  cards,  though  not  good  to 
score,  are  good  to  bar  his  adversary.  31.  A  card  led  or  played  cannot  be  taken 
up  (but  see  Law  26),  but  cards  accidentally  dropped  may  be  retaken.  Also, 
if  the  leader  leads  several  cards  consecutively  without  waiting  for  them  to  be 
played  to,  and  the  adversary  plays  too  many  cards,  he  may  retake  the  extra 
ones;  and  cards  subsequently  played  in  error  must  be  taken  up  and  played 
over  again.  Or.  if  a  player  leads  out  of  turn,  he  may  take  up  his  card  unle'j 
it  has  been  played  to.  Or,  if  a  player  does  not  follow  suit  when  able,  the  card 
played  in  error  and  all  cards  subsequently  played  must  be  taken  up  and 
played  over  again.  Or,  il  a  player  misinforms  his  adversary  when  asked  what 
cards  he  holds  that  liavo  been  allowed  to  be  good  or  equal,  the  adversary 
may  retake  all  the  cards  he  has  subsequently  played,  and  may  play  differently. 
32.  Errors  in  counting  the  hand,  11  proved,  may  be  rectified  before  the  player 
in  error  has  seen  his  next  hand.  33.  If  both  players  score  the  same  number 
in  six  deals,  each  deals  once  more,  when  the  partie  is  concluded,  even  if  there 
should  be  a  second  tie.  34.  11  the  loser  falls  to  score  a  hundred,  he  is  rubl- 
coned,  whether  the  winner's  score  reaches  a  hundred  or  not.  33.  The  deal  in 
which  the  discovery  of  an  incorrect  pack  is  made  is  void.  All  preceding  deals 
stand  good.  34.  A  bystander  calling  attention  to  any  error  or  oversight,  and 
thereby  affecting  the  score,  may  be  called  upon  to  pay  all  stakes  and  bets  01 
the  player  whose  interest  he  has  prejudiiially  alTecteii. 

See  Edmond  Hoyle,  A  Short  Treatise  on  the  Game  of  Piquet  (1744); 
"Cavendish,"  The  Laws  0/  Piquet  and  of  Rubicon  Piquet,  adopted  by  tht 
Portlarui  Club,  with  a  Treatise  on  the  Game  (1382).  (H.  J.) 

PIRACY.  Sir  Edward  Coke  (Instit.  iii.  113)  describi;g 
a"  pirate  (Latin  pirata,  from  Greek  irftparijs)  as  hostit 
humani  generis,  and  as  a  rover  and  robber  upon  the  sea' 
Piracy  may  be  defined  in  law  as  an  offence  which  consists 
in  the  commission  of  those  acts  of  pillage  and  violence 
upon  the  high  seas  which  on  land  would  amount  to  felony.' 
By  the  ancient  common  law  of  England  piracy,  if  com^ 
mitted  by  a  subject,  was  deemed  to  be  a  species  of  treason, 
being  contrary  to  his  natural  allegiance,  and  by  an  alien 
to  be  felony  ;  but  since  the  Statute  of  Treasons,  25  Edw.! 
III.  0.  2  (1351-52),  piracy  has  been  held  to  be  felony 
only.  Formerly  this  offence  ^as  only  cognizable^.by  thq 
Admiralty  courts,  whose  proceedilngs  wgrg^  based  upon  the 


P  I  R  —  P  I  K 


117 


civil  law,  but  by  the  statute  28  Hen.  VIII.  c.  15  (1536) 
a  new  jurisdiction  proceeding  according  to  the  common 
law  was  set  up  which,  modified  and  regulated  by  subse- 
quent enactments,  such  as  39  Geo.  III.  c.  37  (1798-99), 
4  i  5  Will.  IV.  c.  36  (1834),  and  7  i  8  Vict.  c.  2  (1844), 
■continues  to  be  the  tribunal  by  which  offenders  of  this 
description  are  tried. 

Piracy,  being  a  crime  not  against  any  particular  state 
but  against  ■all  mankind,  may  be  punished  in  the  compet- 
ent court  of  any  country  where  the  offender  may  be  found 
or  into  which  he  may  be  carried.  But,  whilst  the  law  of 
nations  gives  to  every  one  the  right  to  pursue  and  exter- 
minate pirates  without  any  previous  declaration  of  war 
(pirates  holding  no  commission  or  delegated  authority 
from  any  sovereign  or  state),  it  is  not  allowed  to  kill  them 
without  trial  except  in  battle.  Those  who  surrender  or 
are  taken  prisoners  must  be  brought  before  the  proper 
tribunal  and  dealt  with  according  to  law. 

The  earliest  of  all  sea-rovers  were  perhaps  the  Phoeni- 
cians. During  the  heroic  age  of  Greece  piracy  was  univer- 
sally practised.  In  the  Homeric  poems  frequent  mention 
is  made  of  piracy,  which  indeed  was  held  in  honourable 
estimation, — the  vocation  of  a  pirate  being  recognized,  so 
that  a  host,  when  he  asked  his  guest  what  was  the  purpose 
of  his  voyage,  would  enumerate  enrichment  by  indis- 
criminate maritime  plunder  as  among  those  projects  which 
might  naturally  enter  into  his  contemplation.  So  late  as 
the  time  of  Solon  the  Phoceans,  on  account  of  the  sterility 
of  their  soil,  were  forced  to  roam  the  seas  as  pirates.  That 
legislator  tolerated  whilst  he  regulated  the  association  of 
sea-rovers  which  he  found  established  by  inveterate  usage. 
The  prevalence  of  the  piratical  spirit  in  Greece  in  the 
early  ages  may  perhaps  be  explained  by  the  number  of 
small  independent  states  into  which  the  country  was 
divided,  and  the  violent  animosity  subsisting  among  them. 
In  this  way  predatory  habits  were  diffused  and  kept  alive. 
As  a  more  regular  system  of  government  grew  up,  and  a 
few  states  such  as  Athens  and  Corinth  had  become  naval 
powers,  piracy  was  made  a  capital  offence.  It  -was,  how- 
ever, never  entirely  put  down.  Cilicia  was  at  all  times 
the  great  stronghold  of  the  pirates  of  antiquity,  and  in 
consequence  of  the  decline  of  the  maritime  forces  which 
had  kept  them  in  check  they  increased  so  much  in  numbers 
and  audacity  as  to  insult  the  majesty  of  Home  itself,  so 
that  it  became  necessary  to  send  Pompey  against  them 
with  a  largo  fleet  and  army  and  more  extensive  powers 
than  had  ever  previously  been  conferred  on  any  Roman 
general.  The  Etruscans  were  notorious  sea-rovers  who 
infested  the  Mediterranean ;  and  Polybius  relates  that  the 
■Romans  imposed  upon  the  Carthaginians  as  a  condition 
of  peace  the  stipulation  that  they  should  not  sail  beyond 
Cape  Faro,  either  for  the  purposes  of  trade  or  piracy. 

Haliam  {Middle  Ages,  iii.  336)  says  that  in  the  13th 
and  14  th  centuries  a  rich  vessel  was  never  secure  from 
attack,  and  neither  restitution  nor  punishment  of  the 
criminals  was  to  be  obtained  from  Governments.  Hugh 
Despenser  seized  a  Genoese  vessel  valued  at  14,300  marks, 
for  which  no  restitution  was  ever  made.  The  famous 
Hanseatic  League  was  formed  in  the  middle  of  the  13th 
century  in  northern  Germany  chiefly  for  the  purpoift!  of 
protecting  the  ships  of  the  confederated  cities  from  the 
attacks  of  the  pirates  by  which  the  Raltic  was  then  infested. 

A  graphic  account  of  piracy  as  it  existed  at  the  end  of 
the  16lh  century  in  European  waters,  especially  on  the 
English,  French,  and  Dutch  coasts,  will  be  found  in 
Motley,  Hist.  United  Netherlands  (vols.  iii.  and  iv.).  The 
nuisance  was  not  almtetl  in  Europe  until  the  feudal  system 
had  been  subverted  and  the  ascendency  of  the  law  finally 
secured.  In  more  modern  times  some  of  the  smaller  West 
India  Islands  became  a  great  resort  of  pirates,  from  which, 


however,  they  have  for  many  years  been  driven  ;  for  con- 
tinued acts  of  piracy  the  city  of  Algiers  was  successfully 
bombarded  by  the  British  fleet  under  Lord  Exmouth  as 
lately  as  August  1816  ;  and  pirates  are  still  not  unfre- 
quently  met  with  in  the  Indian  and  Chinese  seas,  but 
piracy  in  its  original  form  is  no  longer  in  vogue.  The 
Buccaneers  (q.v.)  were  cruel  piratical  adventurera  of  a 
later  date  who  commenced  their  depredations  on  the 
Spaniards  soon  after  they  had  taken  possession  of  the 
American  continent  and  the  West  Indies,  although  there 
was  a  time  when  the  spirit  of  buccaneering  approached  in 
some  degree  to  the  spirit  of  chivalry  in  point  of  adventure. 
Scaliger  observes  in  a  strain  of  doubtful  compliment, 
"Nulli  melius  piraticam  exercent  quam  Angli."  The  first 
levy  of  ship  money  in  England  in  1635  was  to  defray 
the  expense  of  chastising  these  pirates.  The  buccaneering 
confederacy  was  broken  up  through  the  peace  of  Ryswick 
in  1697. 

At  a  very  early  period  of  English  history  the  law  pro- 
vided for  the  restitution  of  property  taken  by  pirates,  if 
found  within  the  realm,  whether  belonging  to  strangers  or 
Englishmen  ;  but  any  foreigner  suing  for  the  recovery  of 
his  goods  was  required  to  prove  that  at  the  time  of  the 
capture  his  own  sovereign  and  the  sovereign  of  the  captor 
■were  in  mutual  amity,  for  it  ■nas  held  that  piracy  could 
not  be  committed  by  the  subjects  of  states  at  war  ■with 
each  other.  In  England  the  crown  is,  generally  speaking, 
entitled  to  all  bona  piratorum;  but  if  any  person  can  estab- 
lish a  title  to  the  goods  the  claim  of  the  crown  thereto 
ceases.  By  13  &  14  Vict.  c.  26  (1850),  ships  and  effects 
captured  from  pirates  are  to  be  restored  on  the  payment  of 
one-eighth  of  their  value  (by  way  of  salvage),  which  is  to 
be  distributed  among  the  recaptors. 

Cowcl  (Lnio  Diet.,  1727)  states  that  in  former  times  the  wonl 
pirate  was  used  in  a  better  sense  than  that  of  a  sea-robber,  being 
attributed  to  persons  to  whose  care  the  mole  or  pier  of  a  haven  was 
entrusted,  and,  quoting  the  learned  Spelman,  ho  adds,  sometimes 
to  a  sea  soldier:  "  Robertus  vero  Comes  (Normania;)  attcmptavit 
venire  in  Angliam  eum  magno  cxercitu,  sed  a  piratis  Kegis  qui 
curam  maris  a  Rege  (WilUelnio)  susceperant  ropulsus  est'  (Glos- 
sarium,  1687,  p.  460).  (J.  C.  W.) 

PIRiEUS.     See  Athens-. 

PIRANESI,  Giovanni  Battista,  an  eminent  Italian 
engraver  of  ancient  architectural  subjects,  was  born  in 
the  former  half  of  the  18th  century,  and  studied  his  art 
at  Rome.  The  great  remains  of  that  city  kindled  his 
enthusiasm  and  demanded  portrayal.  His  hand  faith- 
fully imitated  the  actual  remains  of  a  fabric ;  his  inven- 
tion, catching  the  design  of  the  original  architect,  supplied 
the  parts  that  were  wanting;  his  skill  introduced  groups 
of  vases,  altars,  tombs  ;  and  his  broad  and  scientific  dis- 
tribution of  light  and  shade  completed  the  picture,  and 
threw  a  striking  effect  over  the  whole.  One  engraving 
after  another  was  executed  with  much  brilliancy  ;  and,  as 
the  work  went  on,  the  zeal  of  the  arti.st  only  waxed 
stronger.  In  course  of  time  it  was  found  necessary  to  call 
in  the  aid  of  all  his  children  and  of  several  pupils.  Ho 
did  not,  in  fact,  slacken  in  his  exertions  till  his  death  in 
1778.'  The  plates  of  Piranesi,  in  which  the  severity  of 
burin  work  is  largely  supplemented  by  the  freer  lines  of 
the  etching-needle,  were  collected  and  preserved  by  his 
son  and  coadjutor  Francesco.  They  were  published,  to  thb 
number  of  about  2000,  in  29  vols,  fol.,  Paris,  1835-37. 

PIRMASENS,  a  small  manufacturing  town  of  the  Bava- 
rian palatinate,  lies  in  a  hilly  district,  nearly  40  miles  west 
by  south  of  Spires.  The  staple  industry  is  the  production 
of  boots  and  shoes,  which  ore  exported  to  Austria,  Russia, 
and  even  America;  but  musical  instruments,  stoneware,  and 
other  articles  arc  olso  manufactured.  The  only  noteworthy 
buildings  are  the  town  house  and  the  principal  church,  the 
latter  containing  a  fine  monument  to  Louis  IX.,  landgravo 


118 


P  I  R  — P  I  S 


of  Hesse-Darmstadt.     In  1880  tte  town  contained  12,039 
inhabitants,  three-fourths  of  whom  were  Protestants. 

Pirmasens  owes  its  name  to  a  St  Pivmin;  who  is  said  to  have 
preached  Christianity  here  in  the  8th  ccntnry.  It  originally 
liclonged  to  the  count  of  Hanau-Lichtenbcrg,  but  passed  to  Hesse- 
Darmstadt  in  1736.  In  1793  the  Prussians  gained  a  victory  here 
over  a  body  of  French  troops. 

PIRNA,  an  ancient  town  of  Saxony,  lies  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  Elbe,  on  the  margin  of  the  "  Saxon  Switzer- 
land," 11  miles  above  Dresden.  It  is  on  the  whole  a 
regularly  built  town,  with  promenades  on  the  site  of  the 
former  ramparts,  but  contains  no  notable  edifices  except 
the  fine  Gothic  Hauptkirche  (1502— 16)  and  the  towm- 
house.  The  chief  source  of  its  prosperity  is  formed  by 
the  excellent  sandstone  found  on  both  banks  of  the  Elbe 
above  the  town ;  but  manufactures  of  cigars;  chemicals, 
enamelled  tinware,  pottery,  and  leather  are  also  carried 
on.  Besides  the  export  of  the  sandstone,  it  transacts  a 
trade  in  grain,  fruit,  and  timber,  mainly  by  river.  The 
population  in  1S80  was  11,680,  almost  all  Protestants. 

Pirna,  originally  a  .Slavonic  settlement,  long  oscillated  between 
Bohemia  and  Weissen  (Saxony),  but  became  permanently  united 
with  the  latter  in  1404.  Having  at  a  very  early  period 
received  the  privilege  of  holding  fairs,  it  was  at  one  time  among 
the  most  flourishing  of  Saxon  towns,  but  afterwards  lost  its  import- 
ance through  pestilence  and  the  disastere  of  the  Thirty  Years  and 
Seven  Years'  Wars.  On  a  rock  above  the  town  rises  the  fortress  •of 
Sonnenstein,  now  a  lunatic  asj'lum,  erected  in  the  16th  century  on 
the  site  of  an  older  castle,  and  once  considered  the  most  important 
fortress  on  the  Elbe.  It  successfully  withstood  the  Swedes  in  the 
Thirty  Years'  War,  though  the  town  was  stormed,  but  was  cap- 
tured and  dismantled  by  the  Prussians  in  1758.  In  1813  it  was 
occupied  by  the  French,  and  held  for  several  months. 

PIRON,  Alexis  (1689-1773),  the  foremost  epigramma- 
tist of  France,  was  born  at  Dijon  on  the  9th  July  1689. 
His  father,  Aime  Piron,  was  an  apothecary,  but  was  also 
a  frequent  writer  of  verse  in  Burgundian  patois.  Alexis 
began  life  as  clerk  and  secretary  to  a  banker,  and  tlien 
studied  law  without  any  success  or  much  seriousness.  As 
a  young  man  he  made  himself  notorious  by  the  composi- 
tion of  a  piece  of  licentious  verse  which  might  have 
brought  him  into  serious  difficulties  but  for  the  good 
nature  of  a  high  legal  official,  the  president  Bouhier.  His 
sarcastic  tongue  made  him  unpopular  in  his  neighbour- 
hood, and  at  last  in  1719,  when  nearly  thirty  years  old,  ho 
went  to  seek  his  fortune  at  Paris.  His  first  experiences 
were  not  very  encouraging,  and  he  had  to  put  up  with  the 
unpleasant  and  not  very  honourable  position  of  literary 
adviser  and  corrector  to  the  Chevalier  de  BeUe  Isle.  An 
accident,  however,  brought  him  money  and  notoriety.  The 
jealousy  of  the  regular  actors  produced  an  edict  restricting 
the  Theatre  de  la  Foire,  or  licensed  booths  at  fair  times, 
to  a  single  character  on  the  stage.  None  of  the  ordinary 
■writers  for  this  theatre,  not  even  Lesage,  would  attempt  a 
monologue-drama  for  the -purpose,-  and  Piron  obtained  a 
footing  as  a  dramatic  author,  much  applause,  and  three 
hundred  crowns,  with  a  piece  called  Arlequin  Deucalion. 
Thenceforward  he  was  constantly  employed  for  this 
theatre,  and  not  seldom  for  the  more  dignified  Comddie 
Frangaise,  but  with  the  exception  of  the  excellent  verse 
comedy  of  La  Metromanie  no  one  of  his  comedies  and. 
none  of  his  tragedies  at  all  deserve  mention.  .  His  real 
vocation  was  that  of  an  epigram  maker,  and  this,  though 
it  made  him  not  a  few  enemies,  recommended  him  to  not 
a  few  patrons  who  supplied  his  necessities.  His  most 
intimate  associates,  however,  during  the  middle  period  of 
his  life  were  two  ladies  of  talent  though  not  of  position. 
Mademoiselle  Quinault,  the  actress,  and  her  friend  Made- 
moiselle Quenaudon  or  De  Bar,  companion  to  a  lady  »*f 
rank.  She  was  slightly  older  thac  Piron  and  not  beauti- 
ftil,  but  after  twenty  years  acquaintance  he  married  her  in 
1741,  lived  happily  envi:gh  with  her  for  four  years,  and 
nursed  her  tenderly  during  an  attack  of  madness  which 


in  other  two  years  proved  fatal.  He  long  outlived  her,' 
dying  on  the  21st  January  1773  in  his  eighty-fourth  year. 
The  discredit  of  his  early  literary  misdeed,  and  perhaps  hia 
indiscriminate  habits  of  lampooning,  prevented  his  election 
to  the  Academy,  certain  persons  having  induced  the  king 
to  interpose  his  veto.  But  Piron  was  pensioned,  and 
during  the  last  half  century  of  his  life  was  never  in  any 
want.  He  was  a  complete  literary  free-lance,  and  lam- 
pooned Froron  and  Desfontaines  as  sharply  as  he  lam- 
pooned Voltaire  and  the  jikilosophe  coterie.  Socially  he 
was  a  rather  loose  liver,  though  probably,  except  on  paper^ 
not  worse  than  most  of  his  contemporaries.  He  was  a 
member  of  the  somewhat  famous  convivial  society  of  the 
Caveau.  But  his  true  title  to  remembrance  lies  in  his' 
epigrams,  one  of  which,  the  burlesque  epitaph  on  himself 
but  reflecting  on  the  Academy  (see  vol.  viii.  p;'  496),  is 
known  to  almost  everybody,  while  many  others  equal  or 
surpass  it  in  brilliancy.  Grimm  called  him  a  "machine  a 
saillies,"  and  probably  no  man  who  ever  lived  possessed 
more  of  the  peculiarly  French  faculty  of  sharply  pointed 
verbal  wit  than  he.  It  is  noteworthy  too  that  he  was  as 
ready  with  conversational  retort  as  with  his  pen.' 

Piron  published  his  own  theatrical  worl;s  in  1758,  and  after  hii 
death  his  friend  and  literary  executor  Rigollot  de  Juvigny  pub- 
lished his  CEuvres  Computes,  During  the  last  thirty  years  a  good 
deal  of  unpublished  work  has  been  added  by  MM.  Bonhomme, 
Lalanne,  and  others.  '  But  the  epigrams,  which  take  up  but  little 
room  and  have  been  frequently  reissued  in  various  selections,  are 
alone  of  great  importance. 

PISA,  which  has  always  been  one  of  the  most  imports 
ant  cities  of  central  Italy,  is  situated  on  the  banks  of  the 
Arno  at  a  short  distance  from  the  sea,  in  the  midst  of  a 


1.  Cavalierl  di  S.  Stefano. 

2.  Academy  of  Fine  Arts. 

3.  Royal  Theatre. 

4.  University. 


6.  Palazzo  Lanfreducd  or  Alia 

Giomata. 
6.  Post  Office. 


fertile  plain  backed .  by  marble  mountains  wooded  with 
pines  and  other  forest  trees.  In  the  days  of  Strabo  it 
was  only  two  geographical  miles  from  the  sea-shore,  but 
the  continual  increase  of  the  delta  at  the  mouth  of  the 
river  has  now  trebled  that  distance.  In  the  Middle  Ages 
the  Arno  was  stiy  navigable  for  all  ships  of  war  then  ia 
use,  and  formed  the  safest  of  harbours. 

The  origin  of  Pisa  is  very  ancient,  and  is  involved  int 
obscurity.  The  Romans  believed  it  to  date  from  the  day? 
of  Troy,  and  also  gave  a  legendary  account  of  its  foundation 
by  colonists  from  Greece.  Strabo  mentions  it  as  one  of 
the  bravest  of  the  Etruscan  cities.  From  Polybius  we  learn 
that  in  225  B.C.  it  was  already  the  friend  of,  the  Romansj 


F  I  S  A 


aiiJ  later  it  became  thoir  any  ana  was  delended  by  them 
from  the  ferocious  onslaughts  of  the  Ligurian  and  Apuan 
tribes.  Thus  the  Ilomans  acquired  great  power  over  the 
citj,  and  finally  subjected  it  to  their  rule.  la  Coesar's 
time  according  to  some  writers,  in  that  of  Augustus 
according  to  others,  they  established  a  military  colony 
there.  Nevertheless,  excepting  some  inscriptions,  sarco- 
phagi, statues,  and  columns,  very  few  remains  of  Roman 
buildings  have  been  discovered  in  Pisa.  Little  is  known 
of  the  history  of  Pisa  during  the  barbarian  invasions,  but 
it  is  an  ascertained  fact  that  it  was  one  of  the  first  towns 
to  regain  its  independence.  Under  the  Byzantine  dominion 
Pisa,  like  many  other  of  the  maritime  cities  of  Italy,  pro- 
fited by  the  weakness  of  the  Government  at  Constan- 
tinople to  reassert  its  strength.  And  cvjn  during  the  first 
years  of  the  harsh  Lombard  rule  the  need  recognized  by 
these  oppressors  of  defending  the  Italian  coast  from  the 
attacks  of  the  Greeks  was  favourable  to  the  development 
of  the  Pisan  navy.  Few  particulars  are  extant  concerning 
the  real  condition  of  the  town;  but  we  occasionally  find  Pisa 
mentioned,  almost  as  though  it  were  an  independent  city, 
at  moments  when  Italy  was  overwhelmed  by  the  greatest 
calamities.  According  to  Amari's  happy  expression,  "it 
was  already  independent  by  sea,  while  still  enslaved  on 
land."  Its  prosperity  notably  declined  after  the  re-estab- 
lishment of  the  Lombard  rule  and  under  the  Franks.  It 
again  began  to  flourish  under  the  marquises  of  Tuscany, 
who  governed  it  in  the  name  of  the  emperor. 

In  1003  we  find  records  of  a  war  between  Pisa  and 
Lucca,  which,  according  to  Muratori,  was  the  first  waged 
between  Italian  cities  in  the  Middle  Ages.  But  the 
military  development  and  real  importance  of  Pisa  in  the 
11th  century  must  be  attributed  to  the  continuous  and 
desperate  struggle  it  maintained  against  the  tide  of 
Saracenic  invasion  from  Sicily.  And,  although  the  numer- 
ous legends  and  fables  of  the  old  chroniclers  disguise  the 
true  history  of  this  struggle,  they  servo  to  attest  the 
importance  of  Pisa  in  those  days.  In  1004  the  Saracens 
forced  the  gates  and  sacked  a  quarter  of  the  town,;  and  in 
1011  they  renewed  the  attack.  But  the  Pisans  repulsed 
them  and  assumed  the  offensive  in  Calabria,  Sicily,  and 
even  in  Africa.  Still  more  memorable  was  the  expedition 
afterwards  undertaken  by  the  united  forces  of  Pisa  and 
Genoa  against  Mogihid,  better  known  in  the  Italian 
chronicles  as  JIugcto.  This  Moslem  chief  had  made  him- 
self master  of  Sardinia,  and  was  driven  thence  by  the 
allied  fleets  in  1015.  Again  invading  the  island,  he  was 
again  attacked  and  defeated  by  the  same  adversaries, 
leaving  a  brother  and  son,  or,  as  some  authorities  aver, 
a  wife  and  son,  prisoners  in  their  hands.  Sardinia  con- 
tinued to  be  governed  by  native  magistrates,  who  were 
like  petty  sovereigns,  but  were  now  subject  to  the  sway 
cf  Pisa.  This  was  the  primary  cause  of  the  jealou.sy  of  the 
Genoese,  and  of  the  wars  afterwards  made  by  thom  upon 
Pisa  and  carried  on  until  its  power  was  crushed.  Mean- 
while the  Pisans  flourished  more  and  more,  and  continued 
hostilities  against  the  Saracens.  In  1062  their  ships 
returned  from  Palermo  laden  with  spoil.  Thus  it  is  not 
surprising  that  Pisa  should  already  have  had  its  own  code 
of  laws  (Consuetudini  di  Marc),  which  in  1075  were 
approved  by  Gregory  VII.,  and  in  1081  confirmed  by  a 
patent  from  the  emperor  Ilenry  IV.,  that  supplies  the 
first  authentic  notice  of  tho  existence  of  consuls  iu 
mediaeval  Italy.'  Tho  oldest  of  Pisan  statutes  still  extant 
is  the  Breve  dei  Consoli  di  Mare  of  1162. 

*  it  must  be  remembered  tliat  tlio  Pisans  and  Florentines  dated  tho 
be^nning  of  tlio  year  a4  incamalivne,  i.e.,  from  tho  25lh  Mnnli.  Cut 
the  Florentines  dated  it  from  flio  2Sth  following  and  the  Pii,aDS  from  tho 
2Glh  March  preceding  tho  comniencemcnt  of  the  coninion  year.  Tho 
new  or  cummoa  etvlo  was  adopted  thr"U|ihout  Tuscanv  iu  tho  year  1760. 


119 

In  1099  the  Pisans  joined  in  the  second  crusade,  proved 
their  valour  at  the  capture  of  Jerusalem,  and  derived 
many  commercial  advantages  from  it;  for  within  a  short 
time  they  had  banks,  consuls,  warehouses,  and  privileges 
of  all  kinds  in  every  Eastern  port.  Thus,  while  the  com- 
mune of  Pisa  was  still  under  the  rule  of  tho  marquises 
of  Tuscany,  all  negotiations  with  it  were  carried  on  at 
with  an  independent  state  officially  represented  by  the 
archbishop  and  consuls.  The  aristocrats  were  the  domin- 
ant party,  and  filled  the  highest  ofiTices  of  the  republic, 
which,  in  the  12th  century,  rose  to  great  power,  both 
on  sea  and  land,  by  its  wars  with  the  Lucchese, 
Genoese,  and  Jloslems.  In  1110  Pisa  made  peace  with 
Lucca  after  six  years  of  continuous  hostilities.  And 
between  1114  and  1116  it  achieved  a  still  greater  en- 
terprise. Tho  Pisan  ileet  of  three  hundred  sail,  com- 
manded by  the  archbishop  Pietro  Jloriconi,  attacked  the 
Balearic  Isles,  where- as  many  as  20,000  Chi-istians  were 
said  to  be  held  captive  by  the  Moslems,  and  returned 
loaded  with  spoil  and  with  a  multitude  of  Christian 
and  Moslem  prisoners.  The  former  were  set  at  liberty  or 
ransomed,  and  among  the  latter  was  the  last  descendant 
of  the  reigning  dynasty.  The  chief  eunuch  who  had 
governed  Majorca  perished  iu  the  siege.  Immediately 
afterwards  the  fourteen  years'  war  with  Genoa  broke  out. 
The  two  republics  contested  the  dominion  of  the  sea,  and 
both  claimed  supreme  power  over  the  islands  of  Corsica 
and  Sardinia.  A  papal  edict  awarding  the  supremacy 
of  Corsica  to  the  Pisan  church  proved  sufficient  cause 
for  the  war,  which  went  on  from  1118  to  1132.  Then 
Innocent  II.  transferred  the  supremacy  over  part  of 
Corsica  to  the  Genoese  church,  and  compensated  Pisa  by 
grants  in  Sardinia  and  elsewhere.  Accordingly,  to  gratify 
the  pope  and  the  emperor  Lothair  II.,  the  Pisans  entered 
the  Neapolitan  territory  to  combat  the  Normans.  They 
aided  in  tho  vigorous  defence  of  tho  city  of  Naples,  and 
twice  attacked  and  pillaged  Amalfi,  in  1135  and  1137, 
with  such  effect  that  the  town  never  regained  its  pro- 
sperity. It  has  been  said  that  the  copy  of  the  Pandects 
then  taken  by  the  PL»,ans  from  Amalfi  was  the  first  known 
to  them,  but  in  fact  they  were  already  acquainted  with 
those  laws.  The  war  with  Genoa  never  came  to  a  real 
end.  Even  after  tho  retaking  of  Jerusalem  by  the 
Moslems  (1187)  the  Pisans  and  Genoese  again  met  in 
conflict  in  the  East,  and  performed  many  deeds  of  valour. 
They  were  always  ready  to  come  to  blows,  and  gave 
still  more  signal  proofs  of  their  enmity  during  the  Sicilian 
war  in  behalf  of  the  emperor  Ilenry  VI.  From  that 
moment  it  was  plain  that  there  could  be  no  lasting  peace 
between  these  rival  powers  until  the  one  or  tho  other 
should  be  crushed.  The  greatness  and  wealth  of  tho 
Pisans  at  this  period  of  their  history  is  proved  by  tho 
erection  of  tho  noble  buildings  by  which  their  city  is 
adorned.  Tho  foundations  of  the  cathedral  were  laid  in 
10G3,  and  its  consecration  took  place  in  1118;  tho  ba|i- 
tistery  was  begun  in  1152,  and  tho  campanile  (the  famous 
leaning  tower)  in  1174.  And  all  three  magsificcnt  struc- 
tures were  mainly  tho  work  of  Pisan  artists,  who  gave  new 
life  to  Italian  architecture,  as  they  afterwards  renewed  tho 
art  of  sculpture. 

It  ia  asserted  by  some  writers,  especially  by  Tronci,  that 
in  the  12th  century  Pisa  adopted  a  more  democratic  form 
of  government.  But  in  fact  the  chief -authority  was  still 
vested  in  the  nobles,  who,  both  in  Pisa  and  in  Sardinia, 
exercised  almost  sovereign  power.  They  formed  the  real 
strength  of  tho  repiiblic,  and  kept  it  faithful  to  the  em- 
pire and  tho  GhiVlline  party.  The  Gucif  and  popular 
element  which  constituted  the  force  and  prosperity  of 
Florence  was  hostile  to  Pisa,  and  led  to  its  downfall.  Tho 
independence  of  the  former  city  was  of  much  later  origiu 


120 


PISA 


only  dating  from  the  death  of  Countess  Matilda  (1115), 
but  it  rapidly  rose  to  an  ever-increasing  power,  and  to 
inevitable  rivalry  with  Pisa.  Owing  to  the  political  and 
commercial  interests  binding  Florence  to  the  Roman  court, 
the  Guelf  element  naturally  prevailed  there,  while  the 
growth  of  its  trade  and  commerce  necessarily  compelled 
that  state  to  encroach  on  waters  subject  to  Pisan  rule. 
And,  although  Pisa  had  hitherto  been  able  to  oppose  a 
glorious  resistance  to  Genoa  and  Lucca,  it  was  not  so 
easy  to  continue  the  struggle  when  its  enemies  were  backed 
by  the  arms  and  political  wisdom  of  the  Florentines, 
who  were  skilled  in  obtaining  powerful  allies.  The 
chroniclers  ascribe  the  first  war  with  Florence,  which 
broke  out  in  1222,  to  a  most  ridiculous  motive.  The 
ambassadors  of  the  rival  states  in  Rome  are  said  to  have 
quarrelled  about  a  lapdog.  This  merely  shows  that  there 
were  already  so  many  general  and  permanent  reasons 
for  war  that  no  special  cause  was  needed  to  provoke  it. 
In  1228  the  Pisans  met  and  defeated  the  united  forces  of 
Florence  and  Lucca  near  Barga  in  the  Garfagnana,  and  at 
the  same  time  they  despatched  fifty-two  galleys  to  assist 
Frederick  IL  in  his  expedition  to  the  East.  Shortly  after 
this  they  renewed  hostilities  with  the  Genoese  on  account 
of  Sardinia.  The  judges  who  governed  the  island  were 
always  at  strife,  and,  as  some  of  them  applied  to  Pisa  and 
some  to  Genoa  for  assistance  against  one  another,  the 
Italian  seas  were  once  more  stained  with  blood,  and  the 
war  burst  out  again  and  again,  down  to  1259,  when  it  ter- 
minated in  the  decisive  victory  of  the  Pisans  and  the  con- 
solidation of  their  supremacy  in  Sardinia.  But  meanwhile 
Florence  had  made  alliance  with  Genoa,  Lucca,  and  all  the 
Guelf  cities  of  Tuscany  against  its  Ghibelliue  rival.  The 
pope  had  e.^ccommunicated  Frederick  II.  and  all  his  adher- 
ents. And,  as  a  crowning  disaster,  the  death  of  Frederick  in 
1250  proved  a  mortal  blow  to  the  Italian  Ghibelline  cause. 
Nevertheless  the  Pisans  were  undaunted.  Summoning 
Siena,  Pistoia,  and  the  Florentine  exiles  to  their  aid,  they 
boldly  faced  their  foe,  but  were  defeated  in  1254.  Soon 
after  this  date  we  find  the  old  aristocratic  government  of 
Pisa  replaced  by  a  more  popular  form.  Instead  of  the 
consuls  there  were  now  twelve  elders  (anziani) ;  besides  the 
podestk,  there  was  a  captain  of  the  people ;  and  there  was 
a  general  council  as  well  as  a  senate  of  forty  members.  The 
rout  of  the  Tuscan  Guelfs  on  the  field  of  Montaperto  (1260) 
restored  the  fortunes  of  Pisa.  But  the  battle  of  Benevento 
(1266),  where  Manfred  fell,  and  the  rout  of  Tagliacozzo 
(1268),  sealing  the  ruin  of  the  house  of  Hohenstauffen  in 
Italy  and  the  triumph  of  that  of  Anjou,  were  fatal  to  Pisa. 
For  the  republic  had  always  sided  with  the  empire  and 
favoured  Conradin,  whose  cruel  end  struck  terror  into  the 
Ghibelline  faction.  The  pope  hurled  an  edict  against  the 
I'isans  and  tried  to  deprive  them  of  Sardinia,  while  their 
merchants  were  driven  from  Sicily  by  the  Angevins.  The 
internal  condition  of  the  city  was  affected  by  these  events. 
Owing  to  the  increasing  influence  of  the  Guelf  and  popular 
side,  to  which  the  more  ambitious  nobles  began  to  adhere 
for  the  furtherance  of  personal  aims,  the  aristocratic 
Ghibelline  party  was  rapidly  losing  ground.  The  first  man 
to'step  to  the  front  at  this  moment  was  Count  Ugolino 
della  Gherardesca  of  the  powerful  house  of  that  name.  He 
had  become  the  virtual  head  of  the  republic,  and,  in  order 
to  preserve  its  independence  and  his  own  sway,  inclined 
to  the  Guelfs  and  the  popular  party,  in  spite  of  the 
Ghibelline  traditions  of  his  race.  He  was  supported  by 
his  kinsman  Giovanni  Visconti,  judge  of  Gallura ;  but 
almost  all  the  other  great  families  vowed  eternal  hatred 
against  him,  and  proclaimed  him  a  traitor  to  his  party, 
his  country,  and  his  kin.  So  in  1274  he  and  Visconti 
were  driven  into  exile.  Both  then  joined  the  Florentines, 
took  part  in  the  war  against  their  native  city,  and  laid 


waste  its  surrounding  territories.  In  1276  the  Pisans  wera 
compelled  to  agree  to  very  grievous  terms, — to  exempt 
Florentine  merchandise  from  all  harbour  dues,  to  yield 
certain  strongholds  to  Lucca,  and  to  permit  the  return  of 
Count  Ugolino,  whose  houses  they  had  burnt,  and  whose 
lands  they  had  confiscated.  Thus  the  count  again  became 
a  powerful  leader  in  Pisa.  Visconti,  however,  was  dead.  '■ 
This  was  the  moment  chosen  by  Genoa  for  a  desperate 
and  decisive  struggle  with  her  perpetual  rival.  For  some 
years  the  hostile  fleets  continued  to  harass  each  other  and 
engage  in  petty  skirmishes,  as  if  to  measure  their  strength 
and  prepare  for  a  final  effort.  On  tbe  6th  August  12?i 
the  great  battle  of  Meloria  took  place.  Here  seventy-two 
Pisan  galleys  engaged  eighty-eight  Genoese,  and  half  tliB 
Pisan  fleet  was  destroyed.  The  chroniclers  speak  of  5000 
killed  and  11,000  prisoners;  and,  although  these  figures 
must  be  exaggerated,  so  great  was  the  number  of  captives 
taken  by  the  Genoese  as  to  give  rise  to  the  saying — "  To 
see  Pisa,  you  must  now  go  to  Genoa."  This  defeat  crushed 
the  power  of  Pisa.  She  had  lost  her  dominion  over  the 
sea,  and  the  Tuscan  Guelfs  again  joined  in  attacking  her 
by  land.  Count  Ugolino  had  taken  part  in  the  battle  of 
Meloria  and  was  accused  of  treachery.  At  the  height  of 
his  country's  disasters,  he  sought  to  confirm  his  own 
power  by  making  terms  with  the  Florentines,  by  yielding 
certain  castles  to  Lucca,  and  by  neglecting  to  conclude 
negotiations  with  the  Genoese  for  the  release  of  the 
prisoners,  lest  these  should  all  prove  more  or  less  hostile  to 
himself.  This  excited  a  storm  of  opposition  against  him 
i  The  archbishop  Ruggieri,  having  put  himself  at  the  head 
I  of  the  nobles,  was  elected  podestk  by  the  Lanfranchi, 
j  Sismondi,  and  Gualandi,  and  a  section  of  the  popular  party 
I  The  city  was  plunged  into  civil  war.  The  great  bell  of  tho 
commune  called  together  the  adherents  of  the  archbishop; 
the  bell  of  the  people  summoned  the  partisans  of  the 
count.  After  a  day's  fighting  (1st  July  1288)  the  count,  his 
two  sons,  and  his  two  nephews  were  captured  in  the  Pala.^zo 
del  Popolo  (or  town  hall),  and  cast  into  a  tower  belonging 
to  the  Gualandi  and  known  as  the  "  Tower  of  the  Seven 
Streets."  Here  they  were  all  left  to  die  of  hunger.  Their 
tragic  end  was  afterwards  immortalized  in  the  Divina 
Commedia.  The  sympathies  of  Dante  Alighieri,  tho 
Florentine  patriot  and  foe  of  Rome,  were  naturally  in 
favour  of  the  victims  of  an  aristocratic  prelate,  opposed  to 
all  reconciliation  with  Florence. 

The  Florentines  were  now  allied  with  Lucca  and  Genoa, 
and  a  few  of  their  vessels  succeeded  in  forcing  an  entry 
into  the  Pisan  port,  blocked  it  with  sunken  boats,  and 
seized  its  towers.  Their  own  internal  dissensions  of  1203 
pat  a  stop  to  the  campaign,  but  not  before  they  had  con- 
cluded an  advantageous  peace.  They  and  all  the  members 
of  the  Guelf  league  were  freed  from  all  imposts  in  Pisa 
and  its  port.  In  addition  to  these  privileges  the  Genoese 
also  held  Corsica  and  part  of  Sardinia  ;  and  throughou\ 
the  island  of  Elba  they  were  exempted  from  every  tax 
They  likewise  received  a  ransom  of  160,000  lire  for  their 
Pisan  prisoners.  These  were  no  longer  numerous,  many 
having  succumbed  to  the  hardships  and  sufferings  of  all 
kinds  to  which  they  had  been  exposed. 

In  1312  the  arrival  of  the  emperor  Henry  VII.  gladdened 
the  hearts  of  the  Pisans,  but  his  sudden  death  in  1313 
again  overthrew  their  hopes.  He  was  interred  at  Pisa, 
and  .Uguccione  della  Faggiuola  remained  as  imperial 
lieutenant,  was  elected  podestk  and  captain  of  the  people, 
and  thus  became  virtual  lord  of  the  city.  As  a  Ghibelline 
chief  of  valour  and  renown,  he  was  able  to  restore  the 
military  prestige  of  the  Pisans,  who  under  his  command 
captured  Lucca  and  defeated  the  Florentines  atMonteca^ 
tini  on  the  29th  August  1315.  So  tyrannical,  however, 
was  his  rule  that  in  1316  he  was  expelled  by  the  popular 


PISA 


121 


lary.  But  Pisa's  freedom  was  for  ever  lost.  He  was 
fcusceedcd  by  other  lords  or  tyrants,  of  whom  the  most 
renowned  was  Castruccio  Castracane,  a  political  and  mili- 
tary adventurer  of  much  the  same  stamp  as  Uguccione 
himself.  With  the  help  of  Louis  the  Bavarian,  Cas- 
truccio became  lord  of  Lucca  and  Pisa,  and  was  victorious 
over  the  Florentines;  but  his  premature  death  in  1328 
again  left  the  city  a  prey  to  the  conflicts  of  opposing 
factions.  New  lords,  or  petty  tyrants,  rose  to  power  in 
turn  during  this  period  of  civil  discord,  but  the  milita"y 
valour  of  the  Pisans  was  not  yet  extinguished.  By  sea 
they  were  almost  impotent — Corsica  and  Sardinia  were  lost 
to  them  for  ever  ;  but  they  were  still  formidable  by  land. 
In  13-11  they  besieged  Lucca  in  order  to  prevent  the  entry 
of  the  Florentines,  to  whom  the  city  had  been  sold  for 
250,000  florins  by  the  powerful  Mastino  della  Scala. 
Aided  by  their  Milanese,  Mantuan,  and  Paduan  allies,  they 
gave  battle  to  their  rivals,  put  them  to  rout  at  Altopascio 
(2nd  October),  and  then  again  excluded  them  from  their 
port.  Thereitpon  the  Florentines  obtained  Porto  Talamone 
from  Siena  and  established  a  navy  of  their  own.  By  this 
means  they  were  enabled  to  capture  the  island  of  Giglio, 
and,  attacking  the  Pisan  harbour,  carried  oS  its  chains, 
bore  them  in  triumph  to  Florence,  and  suspended  them 
in  front  of  the  baptistery,  where  they  remained  until 
1848.  Then,  in  pledge  of  the  brotherhood  of  all  Italian 
cities,  they  were  given  back  to  Pisa,  and  placed  in  the 
Campo  Santo. 

The  war  was  now  carried  on  by  the  free  companies  with 
varying  fortune,  but  always  more  or  less  to  the  hurt  of 
the  Pisans.  In  13G9  Lucca  was  taken  from  them  by  the 
emperor  Charles  IV. ;  and  afterwards  Giovan  Galeai^zo 
Visconti,  known  as  the  count  of  Virtii,  determined  to 
forward  his  ambitious  designs  upoii  the  whole  of  Italy  by 
wresting  Pisa  from  the  Gambacorti.  For  at  this  time  the 
conflicts  of  the  Ilaspanti-  faction,  headed  by  the  Gherar- 
desca,  with  the  Bergolini  led  by  the  Gambacorti,  had  left 
the  latter  family  masters  of  the  city.  At  Visconti's 
instigation  Piero  Gambacorti,  the  ruler  of  the  moment, 
■was  treacherously  assassinated  by  Jaeopo  d'Appiano,  who 
succeeded  him  as  tyrant  of  Pisa,  and  bequeathed  the  state 
to  his  son  Ghcrardo.  The  latter,  a  man  of  inferior  ability 
and  daring,  sold  Pisa  to  the  count  of  Virtii,  receiving  in 
exchange  200,000  florins,  Piombino,  and  the  islands  of 
Elba,  Pianosa,  and  Jlontc  Cristo.  Thus  in  1399  Visconti 
took  possession  of  Pisa,  and  left  it  to  his  natural  son 
Gabriele  Maria  Visconti,  who  was  afterwards  expelled  from 
its  gates.  But  even  during  this  century  of  disaster  the 
Pisans'  continued  to  cherish  the  fine  arts.  In  the  year 
1278  they  had  entrusted  the  erection  of  theirfine  Campo 
Santo  to  Niccola  and  Giovanni  Pisano,  by  whom  tho 
architectural  part  of  it  was  completed  towards  the  end  of 
the  century.  In  the  following  year  tho  first  artists  of 
Italy  were  engaged  in  its  decoration,  and  Orcagna  pointed 
Lis  celebrated  frescos  on  its  walls.  Others  were  after- 
wards supplied  by  Benozzo  Gozzoli  and  men  of  lesser  note, 
and  ths  labour  of  ornamentation  was  only  discontinued  in 
l(iM. 

Meanwhile,  in  1406,  the  Florcntijies  made  another 
.•xtlack  upon  Pisa,  besieging  it  simultaneously  by  sea  and 
laud.  Owing  to  tho  starving  condition  of  its  defenders, 
and  aided  by  the  treachery  of  Giovanni  Gambacorti,  they 
entered  the  city  in  triumph  on  the  9th  October,  and 
-bought  to  "  crush  every  germ  of  rebellion  and  drive  out  its 
citizens  by  measures  of  tho  utmost  har.shness  and  cruelty." 
Such  were  the  orders  sent  by  the  Ten  of  War  to  the  repre- 
sentatives of  tho  Florentine  Government  in  Pisa,  and  such 
was  then  tho  established  policy  of  every  Italian  state. 
Oonsequently  for  a  long  time  there  was  a  continual  stream 
«<  emiyratiou  from  Pisa.     The  Medici  pursued  a  humanor 


course.  In  1472  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent  tried  to  restord 
the  ancient  renown  of  the  Pisan  universitj'.  To  that  end 
he  filled  it  with  celebrated  scholars,  and,  leaving  only  a  feW 
chairs  of  letters  and  philosophy  in  Florence,  compelled  the 
Florentines  to  resort  to  Pisa  for  the  prosecution  of  their 
studies.  But  nothing  could  now  allay  tho  inextinguish- 
able hatred  of  the  conquered  [)Cople.  When  Charles  YIII. 
made  his  descent  into  Italy  iu  1494,  and  came  to  Sarzana 
on  his  yay  to  Tuscany,  ho  was  welcomed  by  the  Pisans 
with  the  greatest  demonstrations  of  joy.  And,  although 
that  monarch  was  ostensibly  the  friend  of  Florence,  they 
did  not  hesitate,  even  in  his  presence,  to  assert  their  owu 
independence,  and,  casting  the  Florentine  ensign,  the 
Marzocco,  into  the  Arno,  made  instant  preparations  for 
war.  Between  1499  and  150.5  they  heroically  withstood 
three  sieges  and  repulsed  three  attacking  armies.  But 
their  adversaries  always  returned  to  the  assault,  and,  what 
was  worse,  yearly  laid  waste  their  territories  and  destroyed 
all  their  crops.  Sodorini,  who  was  perpetual  gonfalonier  of 
Florence,  and  Machiavelli,  the  secretary  of  the  Ten,  urged 
on  the  war.  In  1509  the  latter  encamped  his  forces  on 
three  sides  of  the  distressed  city,  which  at  last,  reduced 
to  extremity  by  famine,  was  forced  to  surrender  on  the 
8th  June  1509.  Thenceforth  the  Florentines  remained 
lords  of  Pisa.  But  now,  mainly  owing  to  the  efforts  of 
Soderini  and  Machiavelli,  the  conquerors  showed  great 
magnanimity.  They  brought  with  them  large  stores  of 
provisions,  which  were  freely  distributed  to  all ;  they  tried 
to  succour  the  suffering  populace  in  every  way,  and  gave 
other  assistance  to  the  wealthier  classes.  Nevertheless, 
emigration  continued  even  on  a  larger  scale  than  in  1406, 
and  the  real  history  of  Pisa  may  be  said  to  have  ended. 
In  Naples,  in  Palermo,  in  all  parts  of  Italy,  Switzerland, 
and  the  south  of  France,  we  stil!  find  tho  names  of  Pisan 
families  who  quitted  their  beloved  liome  at  that  time. 
The  Florentines  immediately  built  a  new  citadel,  and  this 
was  a  great  bitterness  to  the  Pisans.  The  Medici,  how- 
ever, remained  well-disposed  towards  the  city.  Leo  X.  was 
an  active  patron  of  the  university,  but  it  again  declined 
after  his  death.  The  grand-duke  Cosmo  I.,  a  genuine 
statesman,  not  only  restored  the  university;  but  instituted 
the  "  Uffizio  dei  Fossi,"  or  drainage  office  for  the  reclama- 
tion of  marsh  lands,  and  founded  tho  knighthood  of  St 
Stephen.  This  order  played  a  noble  part  in  the  protection 
of  Tuscan  commerce,  by  fighting  the  Barbary  pirates  and 
establishing  tho  prestige  of  tho  grand-ducal  navy  (see 
Medici).  Under  the  succeeding  Medici,  Pisa's  fortunes 
steadily  declined.  Ferdinand  I.  initiated  a  few  public 
works  there,  and  above  all  restored  tho  cathedral,  which 
had  been  partly  destroyed  by  fire  in  1595.  These  dreary 
times,  however,  are  Wightened  by  one  glorious  name — 
that  of  Galileo  Galilei.  'A  uativo  of  Pisa,  ho  taught  in 
its  university  ;'  ho  made  his  first  experiments  in  gravity 
from  its  bell  tower,  discovered,  by  observing  tho  swing 
of  the  cathedral  lamp,  the  law  of  tho  oscillation  of  the 
pendulum,  and  began  there  his  stupendous  reform  of 
natural  philosophy.  But  tho  sufferings  inflicted  on  him 
by  the  Inquisition  prove  tho  dei>th  of  ignorance  to  which 
Tuscany  and  all  Italy  had  then  sunk. 

As  to  Pisa,  it  is  enough  to  mention  that  its  population 
within  the  walls  had  been  reduced  in  1551  to  8574  souls, 
and  that  l>y  1745  it  had  only  risen  to  tho  number  of 
12,406.  Under  tho  house  of  Lorraine,  or  more  correctly 
during  tho  reign  of  that  enlightened  reformer  Pietro 
Leopoldo  (1765-1790),  Pisa  shared  in  tho  general  pro- 
sperity of  Tuscany,  and  its  population  constantly  increased. 
By  1840  it  contained  21,670  souls,  exclusive  of  the 
suburbs  and  outlying  districts.  At  the  present  day  I'isa 
is  again  one  of  the  most  flouri.'<hing  cities  of  Tuscany. 
It  counts  26,863  inhabitants    within  tho   walk,  and  in- 


122 


P  I  S  -  F  I  S 


eluding  the  suburbs  a  total  of  44,518.  Its  university 
is  one  of  the  best  in  Italy;  it  is  an  important  railway 
centre;  its  commerce .  and  manufactures  are  continually 
on  the  increase;  its  agriculture  is  rich  and  flourishing; 
and  it  is  the  chief  city  of  a  province  numbering  283,563 
inhabitant."  ■ 

See  P.  ■rrone>,  Aniiali  Pisani,  2  vols.',  Pisa,  1868-1871  ; 
Roncioni,  "  Istorifi  risaiie, "  in  the  Archivio  Storico  Italianu, 
vol.  vi.  pt,  1  ;  "Cronache  Pisane,"  in  the  same  Archivio,  vol. 
vi.  pt.  2  ;  Repctti,  Dizionario  Gcografico  Storico  della  Toscana, 
S.I..  "Pisa."  (P.  V.) 

A  few  details  regarding  the  principal  buildings  may  be  given 
by  way  of  supplement  to  the  foregoing  article.  The  architects  of 
the  cathedral  were  Boschetto  and  Kinaldo,  both  Italians,  probably 
Pisans.'  It  is  in  plan  a  Latin  cross,  with  an  internal  length  of  311i 
feet  and  a  breadth  of  252  feet.  The  nave,  109  feet  high,  has  double 
vaulted  aisles  and  the  transepts  single  aisles  ;  and  at  the  inter- 
section of  nave  and  transepts  there  is  a  cupola.  The  basilica  is  still 
the  predominant  ty]>e,  but  the  influence  of  the  domed  churches  of 
Constantinople  and  the  mosques  of  Palermo  is  also  apparent.  The 
pillars  which  support  the  nave  are  of  niarbTe  flora  Elba  and  Giglio  ; 
those  of  the  si\le  aisles  are  the  spoils  of  ancient  Greek  and  Roman 
buildings  bruiight  by  the  Pisan  galleys.  Kxternally  the  finest  part 
of  the  building  is  the  west  front,  in  which  the  note  struck  by  the 
range  of  arches  running  round  the  base  is  repeated  by  four  open 
arcades.  Of  the  four  doors  three  are  by  John  of  Bologna,  who  was 
greatly  helped  by  Francaviila,  Tacca,  and  others  ;that  of  the  south 
side,  of  much  oMer  date,  is  generally  supposed  to  be  the  w-ork  of 
Bonanno.  Of  the  interior  decorations  it  is  enough  to  mention  the 
altars  of  the  nave,  said  to  be  after  designs  by  Michelangelo,  and  the 
mosnics  in  the  dome  and  the  apse,  which  were  among  the  latest 
designs  of  Cimabue  {q.v.).  The  baptistery  was  completed  only  in 
1278,  and  marred  in  the  14th  century  by  the  introduction  of  Gothic 
details.  The  building  is  a  circle  100  feet  in  diameter,  and  is 
covered  with  a  cone-surmounted  dome  190  feet  high,  on  which 
stands  a  statue  of  St  Eaniero.  The  lowest  range  of  semicircular 
arches  consists  of  twenty  columns  and  the  second  of  sixty;  and. 
above  this  is  a  row  of  eighteen  windows  ia  the  same  style  separated 
by  as  many  pilasters.  In  the  interior,  which  is  supported  by  four 
pilasters  and  eight  columns,  the  most  striking  features  are  the 
octagonal  font  and  the  hexagonal  pulpit,  erected  in  1260  by  Niceola 
PiSANO  iq.v.).  The  campanile  or  "leaning  tower  of  Pisa"  is  a 
round  tower,  the  noblest,  according  to  Freeman,  of  the  southern 
Romanesfjue.  Though  the  walls  at  the  base  are  13  feet  thick,  and 
at  the  top  about  half  as  much,  they  are  constructed  throughout  of 
marble.  The  basement  is  .surrounded  by  a  r.inge  of  semicircular 
arches  supported  by  fifteen  columns,  and  above  this  rise  si.'c  arcades 
vrith  thirty  columns  each.  The  eighth  story,  which  contains  the 
bells,  is  of  much  smaller  diameter  than  the  rest  of  the  tower,  and 
has  only  twelve  columns.  It  is  less  to  the  beauty  of  its  archi- 
tecture, great  though  that  is,  than  to  the  fact  that,  being  11  feet 
2  inches  (or  if  the  cornice  be  included  13  feet  8  inches)  out  of  the 
perpendicular,  it  strikes  the  imagin.ation  in  a  way  peculiarly  its 
own.  The  entire  height  is  183  feet,  but  the  ascent  is  easy  by  a 
stair  in  the  wall,  and  the  visitor  hardly  perceives  the  inclination 
till  he  reaches  the  top  and  from  the  lower  edge  of  the  gallery  looks 
"  doivn  "  along  the  shaft  receding  to  its  base.  There  is  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  the  architects,  Bonanno  and  William  of  Innsbriick, 
intended  that  the  campanile  should  be  built  in  this  oblique  position  ; 
it  would  appear  to  have  assumed  it  while  the  work  was  still  in  pro- 
gress. The  Campo  Santo,  lying  to  the  north  of  the  cathedral,  owes 
its  origin  to  Archbishop  Ubaldo  (1188-1200),  who  made  the  spot 
peculiarly  sacred  by  bringing  fifty. three  shiploads  of  earth  from 
Mount  Calvary.  The  building,  erected  in  the  Italian  Gothic  style 
between  1273  and  1283,  by  Giovanni  Pisano,  is  of  special  interest 
chiefly  for  its  famous  frescos  noticed  above  (see  also  Orcagna, 
vob  xvii.  p.  815). 

PISA,  Leonakdo  of.  -^  See  Pis.vntjs. 

PISAN ELLO.     See  Pisano,  Vittoee. 

PISANO,  Aj^drea.  Andrea  da  Pontadera  (c.  1270- 
1348),  generally  known  as  Andrea  Pisano,  the  chief  pupil 
of  Giovanni  Pis.vno  (q.v.),  was  born  about  1270,  and  first- 
learned  the  trade  of  a  goldsmith,  as  did  many  other  after- 
wards celebrated  artists.  This  early  training  was  of  the 
greatest 'value  to  him  in  his  works  in  bronze,  to  which  the 
manipulatfon  of  the  precious  metals  gave  precision  of  desigu 
and  refinement  of  execution.  He  became  a  pupil  of  Giovanni 
Pisano  about  1300,  and  worked  with  him  on  the  sculpture 
for  S.  ilaria  della  Spina  at  Pisa  and  elsewhere.  But  it 
is  at  Florence  that  his  chief  works  were  executed,  and  the 
form^.tion  of  liis  mature  style  was  due  rather  to  Giotto 


than  to  his  earlier  master.  Of  the  three  world-famed 
bronze  doors  of  the  Florentine  baptistery,  the  earliest  one 
— that  on  the  south  side — was  the  work  of  Andrea;  he 
spent  many  years  on  it ;  ani  it  was  finally  set  up  in 
1336.'  This  marvellous  piece  of  hronze  work,  in  many 
respects  perhaps  the  finest  the  world  has  ever  seen,  has  all 
the  breadth  of  a  sculptor's  modelling,  with  the  finish  of  a 
piece  of  gold  jewellery.  It  consists  of  a  number  of  small 
quatrefoil  panels — the  lower  eight  containing  single  figure^ 
of  the  Virtues  (see  the  figure),  and  the  rest  scenes  from  thj 


Part  of  the  first  bronze  door  of  the  Baptistery  at  Florence, 
by  Andrea  Pisano. 

life  of  the  Baptist.  In  design  the  panels  owe  much  to 
Giotto  :  the  composition  of  each  is  simple  and  harmonious, 
kept  strictly  within  the  due  limits  of  the  plastic  art,  no 
attempt  at  pictorial  effects  and  varied  planes  being  made, — 
in  this  very  unlike  the  perhaps  more  magnificent  but  less 
truly  artistic  reliefs  on  the  third  door,  that  last  executed 
by  Ghiberti.  Andrea  Pisano,  v.hile  living  in  Florence,  also 
produced  man}'  important  works  of  marble  sculpture,  all 
of  which  show  strongly  Giotto's  influence.  In  some  cases 
probably  they  were  actually  designed  by  that  artist,  as, 
for  instance,  the  double  band  of  beautiful  panel-reliefs 
which  Andrea  executed  for  the  great  campanile.  The  sub- 
jects of  these  are  the  Four  Great  Prophets,  the  Seven 
Virtues,  the  Seven  Sacraments,  the  Seven  Works  of  Mercy, 
and  the  Seven  Phinets.  .The  duomo  contains  the  chief  of 
Andrea's  other  Florentine  works  in  marble.  In  1347  he 
was  appointed  architect  to. the  duomo  of  Orvieto,  •vhicb 
had  already  been  designed  and  begun  bj"  Lorenzo  JIaitani. 
The  exact  date  of  his  death  is  not  known,  but  it  must 
have  been. shortly  before  the  year  1349. 

Andrea  Pisano  had  two  sons,  Nino  aiid  Tommaso, — both,  especi- 
ally the  former,  sculptors  of  considerable  ability.  Nino  was  very 
successful  in  his  statues  of  the  Madonna  and  Child,  which  are  full 
of  human  feeling  and  soft  loveliness, — a  perfect  embodiment  of  thcl 
Catholic  ideal  of  the  Divine  Mother.  Andrea's  chief  pupil  wad 
Andrea  di  Clone,  better  known  as  Obcagna  (i^.t'.).  Balduccio  dil 
Pisa,  another,  and  in  one  branch  (that  of  sculpture)  equally 
gifted  pupil,  executed  the  wonderful  shrine  of  S.  Eustorgio  at 
Milan — a  most  magnificent  mass  of  sculptured  figures  and  reliefs. 

PISANO,  GiovANia  (c.  1250-1330),  son  of  Niccola 
Pisano  (see  below),  born  about  1250,  was  but  little  inferior 
to  his  father  either  as  an  architect  or  a  sculp,tor.    Together 

^  The  date  on  the  door,  1330,  refers  to  the  completion  of  the  wax 
model,  not  of  the  casting,  which  was  at  first  unsuccessful,  and  had  to 
be  done  over  again  by  Andrea  himself. 


P  I  S  A  N  0 


123 


with  Arnolfo  del  Cainbio  and  other  pupils,  he  developed 
and  extended  into  other  paits  of  Italy  the  renaissance  of 
sculpture  which  in  the  main  was  due  to  the  extraordinary 
talent  of  that  distinguished  artist  After  he  had  spent  the 
first  part  of  his  life  at  home  as  a  pupil  and  fellow-workej 
of  Niccola,  the  younger  Pisano  was  summoned  between  1270 
and  1274  to  Naples,  where  he  worked  for  Charles  of  Anjou 
on  the  Castel  Nuovo.  One  of  his  earliest  independent 
lierformances  was  the  Campo  Santo  at  Pisa,  finished  about 
1283  ;  along  with  this  he  executed  various  pieces  of  sculp- 
ture over  the  main  door  and  inside  the  cloister.  The 
richest  in  design  of  all  his  works  (finished  about  1286)  is 
in  the  cathedral  of  Arezzo, — a  nip.gnificent  marble  high 
altar  and  reredos,  adorned  both  in  front  and  at  the  back 
with  countless  figures  and  reliefs — mostly  illustrative  of 
the  lives  of  St  Gregory  and  St  Donato,  whose  bones  are 
enshrined  there.  The  actual  execution  of  this  was  pro- 
bably wholly  the  work  of  his  pupils.  In  1290  Giovanni 
v^as  appointed  architect  or  "capo  maestro"  of  the  new 
cathedral  at  Siena,  in  which  office  he  succeeded  Lorenzo 
.Maitani,  who  went  to  Orvieto  to  build  the  less  ambitious 
but  equally  magnificent  duomo  which  had  just  been 
iounded  there.  The  design  of  the  gorgeous  fa>-ade  of  that 
(luomo  has  been  attributed  to  him,  but  it  is  more  probable 
that  he  only  carried  out  Maitani's  design.  According 
to  Vasari,  Giovanni  and  other  pupils  of  Niccola  also 
executed  the  bas-reliefs  on  the  west  front  of  Orvieto,  but 
this  assertion  is  unsupported  by  any  documentary  evidence. 
At  Perugia,  Giovanni  built  the  church  of  S.  Domenico  in 
1304,  but  little  of  the  original  structure  remains.  The 
north  transept,  however,  still  contains  his  beautiful  tomb 
of  Benedict  XL,  with  a  sleeping  figure  of  the  pope,  guarded 
b)'  angels  who   draw  aside   the   curtain  (see  woodcut). 


Part  of  the  tomb  of  Benedict  XI.,  by  Giovanui  Pisauo. 

Above  IS  a  sculptured  plinth  supporting  canopied  figures 
of  the  Madonna  and  other  saints.  The  whole  composition 
is  framed  by  a  high  cusped  and  gabled  arch,  on  twisted 
columns,  enriched  with  glass  mosaic  in  the  style  of  the 
Cosmati.  The  general  design  is  like  the  earlier  tomb  of 
Cardinal  de  Braye  at  Orvieto,  the  work  of  Giovanni's 
fi'Uow-pupil,  Arnolfo  del  Cambio. 

One  of  Giovanni's  most  beautiful  architectural  works  is 
tOio  little  chapel  of  S.  Maria  dclla  Spina,  on  tho  banks  of 
t\c  Arno  in  Pisa;  the  actual  execution  of  this  gem-liko 
chapel,  and  tho  sculpture  with  which  it  is  adorned,  was 
D-iostly  the  work  of  his  pupils.'  This  exquisite  little  build- 
irig  has  recently  been  pulled  down  and  rebuilt,  under  tho 
pretext  of  "restoration." 

The  influence  of  his  father  Niccola  is  seen  strongly  in  all 

'  See  Schultz,  Drxkmalcr  dor  Knnst  in  Untcr-llalicn.  vol.  vii. 
«5. 


Giovanni's  works,  but  especially  in  tlie  pulpit  of  S.  Andrea 
at  Pistoia,  executed  about  1300.  In  design  it  resembles 
that  in  the  Pisan  baptistery ;  but  the  reliefs  are  less 
severely  classical,  and  more  full  of  vivid  dramatic  power 
and  ccmplicated  motives.  Another  pulpit,  designed  on  the 
samff  lines,,  was  made  by  him  for  the  nave  of  Pisa 
cathedral  between  T^SIO  and  1311.  Only  fragments  of  this 
now  exist,  but  it  is  in  course  of  restoration.  The  last  part 
of  Giovanni's  life  was  spent  at  Prato»  near  Florence,  where 
with  many  pupils  he  worked  at  the  cathedral  tilC  big  <^.ea,tb 
about  1330. 

PISANO,  Niccola.  (c.  1206-1278),  one  of  the  chief 
sculptors  and  architects  of  mediaeval  Italy,  was  born  about 
1206.  Though  he  called  himself  Fisauus,  from  Pisa, 
where  most  of  his  life  was  spent,  be  was  not  a  Pisan  by 
birth.  There  are  two  distinct  accounts  of  his  parentage, 
both  derived  mainly  from  existing  documents.  According 
to  one  of  these  he  is  said  to  have  been  the  son  of  "  Petrus, 
a  notary  of  Siena ; "  but  this  statement  is  very  doubtful, 
especially  as  the  word  "  Siena  "  or  "  de  Senis  "  appears  to 
be  a  conjectural  addition.  Another  document  among  the 
archives  of  the  Sienese  cathedral  calls  him  son  of  "  Petrus 
de  Apulia."  Crowe  and  Cavalcasello,  as  well  as  the 
majority  of  modern  writers,  accept  the  latter  statement, 
and  believe  that  he  not  only  was  a  native  of  the/province 
of  Apulia  in  southern  Italy,  but  also  that  he  gained  there 
his  early  instruction  in  the  arts  of  sculpture  and  architec- 
ture. Thos'e  on  the  other  hand  who,  with  most  of  the 
older  writers,  prefer  to  accept  the  theory  of  Niccola's  origin 
being  Tuscan  suppose  that  he  was  a  native  of  a  small 
town  called  Apulia  near  Lucca.  As  is  the  case  with  the 
biographies  of  so  many  of  those  artists  who  lived  long 
before  Vasari's  own  time,  that  author's  account  of  Niccola 
is  quite  untrustworthy.  There  is  no  doubt  that  in  the 
century  preceding  Niccola  Pisano's  birth  Apulia,  and  the 
southern  provinces  generally,  were  more  advanced  in  the 
plastic  art  than  any  part  of  northern  Italy — witness 
especially  the  magnificent  architecture  and  sculpture  in 
the  cathedrals  of  Salerno,  Bari,  Amalfi,  Ravello,  and  many 
others,  in  which  still  exist  bronze  doors,  marble  pulpits, 
and  other  works  of  art  of  great  merit,  dating  from  the 
11th  and  12th  centuries,~a  period  when  northern  Italy 
produced  very  little  art-work  of  any  real  beauty.  That 
the  young  Niccola  Pisano  saw  and  was  influenced  by  these 
things  cannot  be  denied,  but  Crowe  and  Cavalcasello,  in 
their  eagerness  to  contradict  tho  old  traditions,  go  very 
much  too  far  when  they  deny  the  story,  told  by  Vasari,  of 
Niccola's  admiration  for  and  keen  study  of  the  remains  of 
ancient  Roman  sculpture  which  were  then  beginning  to  be 
sought  for  and  appreciated.  In  Niccola  Pisano's  works  it 
is  somewhat  ditticult  to  trace  tho  direct  influence  of  Ajmlian 
art,  while  in  many  of  them,  especially  tho  panel-reliefs  of 
his  Pisan  pulpit  (see  figure),  classical  feeling  is  apiiaront 
in  every  fold  of  the  drapery,  in  tho  modelling  of  tho  nude, 
and  in  the  dignified  reserve  of  tho  main  lines  of  tho  com- 
position. 

For  all  that,  Niccola  was  no  dull  cojiyist ;  .though  he 
emancipated  himself  from  tho  stifl'ness  and  unreality  of 
earlier  sculpture,  yet  his  adtroration  and  knowledge  of  tho 
physical  beauty  of  the  human  form  in  no  way  dctr.actcd 
from  tho  purity  and  religious  spirit  of  his  snbjecU. 
Though  pagan  in  their  beauty  of  modelling  and  grace  of 
attitude,  his  Madonnas  are  as  worshipful,  and  his  saints 
as  saintly,  aa  tho.so  of  any  sculptor  llie  world  has  over  seen. 
With  true  genius  ho  ojiened  out  to  the  church  a  new  field 
in  which  all  tho  gifts  of  God,  even  purely  i)hysical  ones, 
weto  made  use  of  and  adopted  o-s  types  and  symbols  of 
inward  purity  and  love — not  repudiated  and  supi)rc.ssed  oa 
snares  of  tho  evil  ona  Except  through  his  works,  but 
little  is  known  of  the  history  of  Niccola's  life.     As  early 


124 


P  I  S  — P  I  S 


as  1221  he  is  said  to  have  been  summoned  to  Naples  by 
Frederick  IL,  to  do  work  in  the  new  Castel  dell'  Uovo. 
This  fact  supports  the  theory  of  his  southern  origin,  though 
not  perhaps  very  strongly,  as,  some  years  before,  the  Pisan 
Bonannus  had  been  chosen  by  the  Norman  king  as  the 
sculptor  to  cast  one  of  the  bronze  doors  for  Monreale 
cathedral,  where  it  still  ejdsts.  •  The  earliest  existing  piece 
of  sculpture  which  can  be  attributed  to  Niccola  is  a 
beautiful  relief  of  the  Deposition  from  the  Cross  in  the 
tympanum  of  the  arch  of  a  side  door  at  San  Martino  at 
Lucca  ;  it  is  remarkable  for  its  graceful  composition  and 
delicate  finish  of  execution.  The  date  is  about  1237. 
In  1260,  as  an  incised  inscription  records,  he  finished  the 
marble  pulpit  for  the  Pisan  baptistery;  this  is  on  the 
whole  the  finest  of  his  works. 

It  is  a  high  octagon,  on  semicircular  arches,  with  trefoil  cusps, 
supported  by  nine  marble  columns,  three  of  whicli  rest  ou  white 
marole  lions.  In  Jesign  it  presents  that  curious  combination  of 
Gothic  forms  with  classical  details  which  is  one  of  the  character- 
istics of  the  mediaral  architecture  of  northern  Italy  ;  though  much 
enriched  with  sculpture  both  in  relief  and  in  the  round,  the  general 
lines  of  the  design  are  not  sacrificed  to  this,  but  the  sculptui'e  is 
kept  subordinate  to  the  whole.  In  this  respect  it  is  superior 
to  the  more  magnificent  pulpit  at  Siena,  one  of  Niccola's  later 
works,  which  sutfei-s  greatly  from  want  of  repose  and  purity  of 
outline,  owin^  to  its  being  overloaded  with  leliefs  and  statuettes. 
Five  of  the  sides  of  the  main  octagon  have  panels  with  subjects — 
the  Nativity,  the  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  the  Presentation  in  the 
Temple,  the  Crucifixion,  and  the  Doom.  These  are  all,  especially 
the  first  three,  works  of  the  highest  beauty,  and  a  wonderful 
advance  on  anything  of  the  sort  that  had  been  produced  by 
Niccola's  predecessors.  The  drapery  is  gracefully  arranged  in 
broad  simple  folds  ;  the  heads  are  full  of  tlie  most  noble  dignity  ; 
and  the  sweet  yet  stately  beauty  of  the  Madonna  could  hardly  be 
surpassed.  The  panel  with  the  Adoration  of  the  Magi  is  perhaps 
the  one  in  which  Niccola's  study  of  the  anti(}ue  is  most  apparent 
(see  figure).     Tlie  veiled  and  diademed  figure  of  the  Virgin  Mother, 


The  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  one  of  the  panels  in  the  pulpit  of  the 
Pisan  Baptistery,  by  Niccola  Pisano. 
seated  on  a  throne,  recalls  tho  Roman  Juno  ;  the  head  of  Jose)>h 
behind  her  might  be  that  of  Vulcan  ;  while  the  youthful  beauty 
of  an  Apollo  and  the  mature  dignity  of  a  Jupiter  are  suggested  by 
the  standing  and  kneeling  figures  of  the  Magi.  Certain  figures  in 
others  of  the  panels  are  no  less  deeply  imbued  with  classical  feeling. 

The  next  important  work  of  Niccola  in  date  is  the  Area 
di  San  Domenico,-  in  the  church  at  Bologna  consecrated  to 
that,  saint,  who  died  in  1221."  Only  the  main  part,  the 
actual  sarcophagus  covered  with  sculptured  reliefs  of  St 
Dominic's  life,  is  the  work  of,  Niccola  and  his  pupils.  The 
sculptured  base  and  curved  roof  with  its  fanciful  orna- 
ments are  later  additions.  This  "Area"  was  made  when 
St  Dominic  was  canonized,'  and  his  bones  translated  ;  it 
was  finished  in  1267,  not  by  Niccola  himself,  but  by  his 
pupils.  The  most  magnificent,  though  not  the  most 
beautiful,  of  Niccola's  works  is  the  great  pulpit  in  Siena 
cathedral  (1268).  It  is  much  larger  than  that  at  Pisa, 
thoup-h  somewhat  similar  in  general  design,  being  an  octa- 


gon on  cusped  arches  and  columns.  Its  stairs,  and  a  large 
landing  at  the  top,  with  carved  balusters  and  panels, 
rich  with  semi-classical  foliage,  are  an  addition  of  about 
1500.  The  pulpit  itself  is  much  overloaded  with  scul[>- 
ture,  and  each  relief  is  far  too  crowded  with  figures.  An 
attempt  to  gain  magnificence  of  effect  has  destroyed  the 
dignified  simplicity  for  which  the  earlier  pulpit  is  so  re- 
markable. 

Niccola's  last  great  work  of  sculpture  was  the  fountain 
in  the  piazza  opposite  the  west- end  of  the  cathedral  at 
Perugia.  This  is  a  series  of  basins  rising  one  above 
another,  each  with  sculptured  bas-reliefs  ;  it  was  begun 
in  1274,  and  completed,  except  the  topmost  basin,  which 
is  of  bronze,  by  Niccola's  son  and  pupil  Giovanni 

Niccola  Pisano  was  not  only  pre-eminent  as  a  sculptor, 
but  was  also  the  greatest  Italian  architect  of  his  cen- 
tury ;  he  designed  a  number  of  very  important  buildings, 
though  not  all  which  are  attributed  to  him  by  Vasari. 
Among  those  now  existing,  the  chief  are  the  main  part  of 
the  cathedral  at  Pistoia,  the  church  and  cotivent  of  Sta 
Margherita  at  Cortona,  and  Sta  Trinita  at  Florence.  The 
church  of  Sant'  Antonio  at  Padua  has  also  been  attributed 
to  him,  but  without  reason.  Unfortunately  his  architec- 
tural works  have  in  most  cases  been  much  altered'  and 
modernized.  Niccola  was  also  a  skilled  engineer,  and 
was  compelled  by  the  Florentines  to  destroy  the  great 
tower,  called  the  Gnarda-morto,  which  overshadowed  the 
baptistery  at  Florence,  and  had  for  long  been  the  scene  of 
violent  conflicts  between  the  Guelfs  and  GhibeUines.  He 
managed  skilfully  so  that  it  should  fall  without  injuring 
the  baptistery.  Niccola  Pisano  died  at  Pisa  in  the  year 
1278,  leaving  his  son  Giovanni  a  worthy  successor  to  his 
great  talents  both  as  an  architect  and  sculptoj;. 

Though  his  importance  as  a  reviver  of  the  old  traditions  of 
beauty  in  art  has  been  to  some  extent  exaggerated  by  Vasari,  yet 
it  is  probable  that  he,  more  than  any  other  one  man,  was  the 
means  of  starting  that  "  new  birth  "  of  the  plastic  arts  which,  in 
the  years  following  his  death,  was  so  fertile  in  countless  works  of 
the  most  unrivalled  beauty.     Both  Niccola  and  his  son  had  many 

fupils  of  great  artistic  power,  and  these  carried  the  influence  of  the 
isani  throughout  Tuscany  and  northern  Italy,  so  that  the  whole 
art  of  tho  succeeding  generations  may  be  said  to  have  owed  the 
greater  part  of  its  rapid  development  to  this  one  family. 

On  the  three  preceding  Pisani  see  Perkins,  Tuscan  Sculptors,  vol,  i..  1864; 
Clcoenara,  Sloria  delta  Sculltira,  152^24;  Gaye,  Kumlblall,  1839;  Riimohr, 
JtaJieniscfie  Forschuno^n,  1827-31;  Milancsi.  Hocumeitti  dclV  Arte  and  Vita  di 
yiccnla  Pisano;  Vasari,  Miiiinesi's  ed.,  L  p.  293  and  48!,  1882;  Crowe  and 
Cavaioselle.  Painting  in  Italy,  1864-^6;  Gnmer,  ilarmor-RHduerke  der  Schule 
der  Pisaner,  ISoS;  Leader  Scott,  Early  Jtatian  Sculptors,  1882;  Symonds, 
Renaissance  in  Italti:  Fine  Arts,  p.  100  s<j.,  1877  ;  Dolime,  Kuust  vnd  Kunstler 
Italieas,  Leipsic,  1378  ;  Le  tre  porte  del  Battistero  di  Firente,  1821.        (J,  H.  M.) 

PISANO,  ViTTORE  {c.  1380-1456),  commonly  called 
PiSANBLLO,  the  greatest  of  Italian  medallists,  was  a  native 
of  San  Vigilio  svd  Lago  in  the  territory  of  Verona.  Speci- 
mens of  his  work  as  a  painter  are  stUl  extant  in  Rome, 
Venice,  Verona,  and  Pistoia,  and  entitle  him  to  a  place  of 
some  distinction  in  the  history  of  that  art.  The  National 
Gallery  in  London  possesses  a  very  fine  specimen  of  Pisa- 
nello's  work — a  panel  painted  vvith  miniature-like  delicacy. 
For  his  pre-eminent  position  as  a  medallist,  see  Numis- 
matics, vol.  xvii.  p.  657.  During  the  latter  portion  of  his 
life,  he  lived  in  Home,  where  he  enjoyed  great  repute. 

PISANUS,  Leonaedus  (Leojiardo  of  Pisa),  an  Italian 
mathematician  of  the  13th  century  who  has  left  the  stamp 
of  his  name  on  a  whole  period  in  the  history  of  the  science. 
Of  Leonardo's  personal  history  few  particulars  are  known. 
His  father  was  palled  Bonaccio,  most  probably  a  nickname 
with  the  ironical  meaning  of  "  a  good  stupid  fellow,"  while 
to  Leonardo  himself  another  nickname  Bigollone  (dunce, 
blockhead)  seems  to  have  been  given.  The  father  was 
secretary  in  one.  of  the  numerous  factories  erected  on  the 
southern  and  eastern  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean  by  the 
warlike  and  enterprising  merchants  of  Pisa.  WTiere  Euro- 
pean and  Arab  merchants  met  was  at  that  time  the  right 


P  I  S  A  N  U  S 


125 


place  for  learning  arithmetic,  and  it  was  certainly  with  a 
view  to  this  that  the  father  had  Leonardo  sent  to  Bugia 
to  continue  his  education.  But  Leonardo  aimed  at  some- 
tliing  higher  than  to  malie  himself  an  accomplished  clerk, 
and  during  his  travels  round  the  Mediterranean  he  obtained 
8uch  erudition  as  would  have  gained  him  the  name  of  a 
great  scholar  in  much  later  times.  In  1202  Leonardo 
Fibonacci  {i.e.,  son  of  Bonaccio)  was  again  in  Italy  and 
published  bis  great  work  Liber  Abaci,  which  probably  pro- 
cured him  access  to  the  learned  and  refined  court  of  the 
emperor  Frederick  II.  Leonardo  certainly  was  in  relation 
with  some  persons  belonging  to  that  circle,  when  he 
published  in  1220  another  more  extensive  work  De  Prac- 
tica  Geometriee,  which  he  dedicated  to  the  imperial  astro- 
nomer Domiuicus  Hispanus.  Some  years  afterwards 
(perhaps-  in  1228,  as  is  related  by  an  author  on  the 
authority  of  a  manuscript  only  once  seen  by  him)  Leonardo 
dedicated  to  another  courtier,  the  well  known  astrologer 
Michael  Scott,  the  second  edition  of  his  Liber  Abaci,  which 
has  come  down  to  our  times,  and  has  been  printed  as  well 
as  Leonardo's  other  works  by  Prince  Bald.  Boncompagni 
(Rome,  1857-62,  2  vol.?.).  The  other  works  consist  of  the 
Practica  Geonietrise  and  some  most  striking  papers  of  the 
greatest  scientific  importance,  amongst  which  the  Liber 
Quadratorum  may  be  specially  signalized.  It  bears  the 
notice  that  the  author  wrote  it  in  1225,  and  in  the  intro- 
duction Leonardo  himself  tells  us  the  occasion  of  its  being 
written.  Dominicus  had  presented  Leonardo  to  Frederick 
II.i  ITie  presentation  was  accompanied  by  a  kind  of 
mathematical  performance,  in  which  Leonardo  solved 
several  hard  problems  proposed  to  him  by  John  of 
Palermo,  an  imperial  notary,  whose  name  is  met  with  in 
several  documents  dated  between  1221  and  =1240.  The 
methods  which  Leonardo  made  use  of  in  solving  those 
problems  fill  the  Liber  Quadratorum,  the  Flos,  and  a  Letter 
to  Magister  Theodore.  All  these  treatises  seem  to  have 
been  written  nearly  at  the  same  period,  and  certainly 
before  the  publication  of  the  second  edition  of  the  Liber 
Abaci,  in  which  the  Liber  Quadratorum  is  expressly 
mentioned.  We  know  nothing  of  Leonardo's  fate  after 
he  issued  that  second  edition,*  and  we  might  compare 
him  to  a  meteor  flashing  up  suddenly  on  the  black  back- 
ground of  the  midnight  sky,  and  vanishing  as  suddenly, 
were  it  not  that  his  influence  was  too  deep  and  lasting 
to  allow  of  his  being  likened  to  a  phenomenon  passing 
quickly  by. 

To  explain  thia  influence  and  the  whole  importance  of  Leonardo's 
Bcieiitific  work,  we  must  rajiidly  sketch  the  state  of  mathematics 
about  the  year  1200.  The  GreeKs,  the  most  geometrical  nation  on 
the  earth,  had  attained  a  high  degree  of  sciciitilic  perfection,  when 
they  were  obliged  to  yield  to  tlie  political  supremacy  of  Rome. 
From  this  time  mathematics  in  Europe  sunk  lower  and  lower,  till 
only  some  sorry  fragiiient~s  of  the  science  were  still  ])reserve(l  in  the 
cell  of  the  studious  monk  and  behind  the  counting-board  of  the 
eager  merchant  Geometry  was  nearly  forgotten  ;  arithmetic  made 
use  of  the  abacus  with  counters,  or  with  the  nine  characters  the 
origin  of  which  is  still  a  matter  of  controversy  (see.  Niimkrai.8); 
the  zero  was  still  unknown.  Among  the  Arabs  it  was  quite  other- 
wise. Greek  mathematics  found  amongst  them  a  second  homo, 
where  the  science  was  not  only  preserved  but  came  to  new 
strength,  and  was  recruited  from  India,  whence  in  particular  came 
the  symbol  "zero"  and  ita  use,  which  alone  renders  possible 
numerical  calculation  in  the  modern  sense  of  the  word.  Ancient 
astronomy  as  well  as  ancient  mathematics  reappeared  in  Europe, 
from  tlie  beginning  of  the  12th  century  onwards,  in  an  Arabian 
dress.  Two  men  especially  recognized  the  worth  of  those  sciences 
and  made  it  the  task  of  their  life  to  propagate  them  amongst  their 

'  The  words  "  cum  Magister  Dominicus  pedibus  celsitudinifl  vcatnc 
me  Pisis  duceret  prtcscntandum  "  have  always  been  taken  to  niwin 
that  Leonardo  was  presented  to  the  emperor  at  Pisa,  but  the  dale  of 
1225  excludes  this  interpretation,  as  Freilcrick  II.  cvrtainly  never  was 
in  Pisa  before  July  1226.  Tlie  tranj^lation,  therefore,  oui^lit  to  be — 
**  when  Magister  Dominicua  brou^bl  nie  from  Pisa,  Ac,"  the  plac« 
wUcn  Leonardo  met  tb«  ouiMiur  ramaining  unlutowo. 


contemporaries, — the  German  monk  Jordaniis  Nemorarius  and  ths 
Italian  merchant  Leonardus  Pisanus.  Leonardo,  as  we  have  said, 
travelled  all  round  the  Mediterranean  gathering  knowledge  of  every 
kind.  He  studied  the  geometry  of  Euclid,  the  algebra  of  Moham- 
med ibn  Musa  AJchdrizmi ;  he  made  himself  acquainted  with  Indian 
methods;  he  found  out  by  himself  new  theories.  So  runs  his  own 
account ;  and  an  exact  comparison  of  Leonardo's  works  with  older 
sources  not  only  confirms  the  truth  of  Iiis  narrative,  but  shows 
also  that  he  must  have  studied  some  other  authors, — for  instance, 
Alkarchi.  In  his  Practica  Geometrim  plain  traces  of  the  use  of 
the  Roman  " agrimensorcs "  are  met  with;  in  his  Liber  Alaci  old 
Egyptian  problems  occur  revealing  their  origin  by  the  reappearance 
of  the  very  numbers  in  which  the  problem  is  given,  though  one 
cannot  guess  through  what  channel  they  came  to  Leonardo's 
knowledge.  Leonardo  cannot  now  be  regarded  (as  Cossali  regarded 
him  about  1800)  as  the  inventor  of  that  very  great  variety  of  truths 
for  which  he  mentions  no  earlier  source.  But  even  were  the  i)re- 
decessors  to  whom  he  is  indebted  more  numerous  than  we  are 
inclined  to  believe,  were  he  the  Columbus  only  of  a  territory  the 
existence  of  which  was  unknown  to  his  century,  the  historical 
importance  of  the  man  would  be  nearly  the  same.  We  ruust 
remember  the  general  ignorance  of  his  age,  and  then  fancy  the 
sudden  appearance  of  a  work  like  the  Liber  Abaci,  which  fills  459 
jirinted  pages.  These  pages  set -forth  the  most  perfect  methods  of 
calculating  with  whole  numbers  and  with  fractions,  practice, 
extraction  of  the  square  and  cube  roots,  proportion,  ciiaiu  rule, 
finding  of  proportional  parts,  averages,  progressions,  even  compound 
interest,  just  as  in  the  completest  mercantile  arithmetics  of  our 
days.  They  teach  further  the  solution  of  problems  leading  to 
equations  of  the  first  and  second  degree,  to  determinate  and  iude- 
termiuate  equations,  not  by  single  and  double  position  only,  but 
by  real  algebra,  proved  by  means  of  geometric  constructions,  and 
including  the  use  of  letters  as  symbols  for  knowu  numbers,  the 
unknown  quantity  being  called  res  and  its  srjuare  census.  We  may 
well  wonder,  not  that  the  impression  caused  by  a  work  of  such 
ovorwhelmiug  character  was  so  deep,  but  that  it  made  any  impres- 
sion at  all,  and  that  the  unprepared  soil  could  receive  the  seed. 
The  second  work  of  Leonardo,  his  Practica  Geometrim  (1220),  is 
still  more  remarkable,  since  it  requires  readers  already  acquainted 
with  Euclid's  planimetry,  who  are  able  to  follow  rigorous  demon- 
strations and  feel  the  necessity  for  them.  Among  the  contents  of 
this  book  we  simply  mention  a  trigonometrical  cliaptcr,  in  which 
the  words  sinus  versus  arcus  occur,  the  approximate  extraction  of 
cube  roots  shown  more  at  large  than  in  the  Liber  Abaci,  and  a 
very  curious  problem,  which  nobody  would  search  for  in  a  geome- 
trical work,  viz.,  to  find  a  stjuare  number  which  remains  a  square 
number  when  5  is  added  to  it  This  problem  evidently  suggested 
the  first  quastion  put  to  our  mathematician  iu  presence  of  the 
emperor  by  John  of  Palermo,  who,  perhaps,  was  quite  enough 
Leonardo's  friend  to  set  him  such  problems  only  as  he  had  himself 
asked  for.  The  problem  was  : — To  find  a  square  number  remain- 
ing so  after  the  addition  as  well  as  the  subtraction  of  5.  Leonardo 
gave  as  solution  the  numbers  llA'ii  16,Vt.  *nd  SAV. — the  squares 
of  3j",,  4,^5,  and  2/5;  and  thoi,i7«r  Quadratorum  gives  the  method 
of  finding  them,  which  we  cannot  discuss  here.  We  observe,  how- 
ever, that  the  kind  of  problem  was  not  new.  Arabian  authors 
already  had  found  three  square  numbers  of  equal  difference,  but  the 
difference  itself  had  not  been  assigned  in  proposing  the  question. 
Leonardo's  method,  therefore;  when  the  difference  was  a  fixed 
condition  of  the  problem,  was  necessarily  very  different  from  the 
Arabian,  and,  in  all  probability,  was  his  own  discovery.  The  Ftoa 
of  Leonardo  turns  on  the  second  question  set  by  John  of  Palermo, 
which  required  the  solution  of  tno  cub'ic  equation  ar" -f  iar*  + 1 0.r 
—  20.  Leonardo,  making  use  of  fractions  of  tno  soxagosimnl  scale, 
gives  x-l"  22'  7"  42'"  33"  4T  40'',  after  having  demonstrated,  by 
a  discussion  founded  on  the  10th  book  of  Euclid,  that  8  noliitiou 
by  square  roota  is  impossible.  It  is  much  to  be  deplored  that 
Leonardo  does  not  give  the  least  intimation  bow  he  found  hie 
approximative  value,  outrunning  by  this  result  mora  than  three 
centuries.  Genocchi  believes  lA!onardo  to  have  been  la  posses-* 
sion  of  a  certain  method  called  regula  aurea  by  Cardan  in  the  Idth 
century,  but  this  is  a  mere  hypothesis  without  solid  foonditioDj 
In  the  Flos  equations  with  nogatiro  values  of  the  unknown 
quantity  are  also  to  be  met  with,  and  Leonardo  perfectly  undei" 
stands  the  meaning  of  tlicse  negative  solutions.  In  the  Letter  U\ 
AVaffiiter  ThtocLore  indotemiinate  problems  are  chiefly  worked,  anJ 
Leonardo  hints  at  his  being  able  to  eolvo  by  a  general  method 
any  problem  of  this  kind  not  exceeding  the  first  degree.  We  have 
enumerated  the  main  substance  of  wlikt  appear  to  be  Leonardo's 
own  discoveries,  and  the  experienced  reader  will  not  hesitate  to 
conclude  that  they  prove  him  \o  have  been  one  of  the  greatest 
algebraists  of  any  time.  As  for  the  influence  ho  exorcised  on 
posterity,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  Luca  Parioli,  about  1500,  in  his 
celebrated  Summa,  leans  eo  exclusively  to  Leonardo's  works  (at 
that  time  known  in  manuscript  only)  that  bo  frankly  acknowledges 
his  dependence  on  them,  and  states  that  wherever  no  nl)„ir 
author  is  quoted  all  belongs  to  Leonardus  Pisauus.  (M.  CA.> 


126 


PISCICULTUKE 


PISCICULTURE.  This  art  as  at  present  pursued 
is  not  limited  to  those  animals  which  are  grouped  by 
zoologists  in  the  class  of  Pisces.  "  Fishery  "  is  now  under- 
stood to  signify  the  exploitation  of  all  products  of  the 
sea,  lake,  and  river,  the  capture  of  whales,  turtles,  pearls, 
corals,  and  sponges,  as  well  as  of  fish  proper.  The  pur- 
pose of  fish-culture  (or  aquiculture,  as  it  is  in  France 
more  appropriately  named)  is  to  counteract  by  reparative 
and  also  by  preventive  measures  the  destructive  effects  of 
fishery. 

The  possibilit}'  of  exterminating  aquatic  animals  within 
the  restricted  limits  of  a  lake  or  a  river  cannot  be  doubted  ; 
authorities  are  decidedly  at  variance,  however,  as  to  the 
extent  of  the  influence  of  man  upon  the  abundance  of  life 
in  the  open  seas.     Distinction  must  be  made  between  the 
extermination  of  a  species,  even  in  a  restricted  locality,  and 
the  destruction  of  a  fishery;  the  former  is  very  unusual,  and 
is  seemingly  impossible  in  the  case  of  oceanic  species,  but 
the  latter,  especially  for  limited  regions,  is  of  almost  yearly 
occurrence.     Aquatic  mammals,  such  as  seals,  may  be  en- 
tirely exterminated,  especially  when,  like  the  fur  seal,  they 
forsake  the  water  for  a  season  and  resort  to  the  land  for 
breeding  purposes.     The  fur  seals  of  the  Pacific  and  Ant- 
arctic are  now  nearly  gone,  except'  in  two  groups  of  islands, 
the  Pribylovs  in  Alaska  and  the  Commander  Islands  in 
Siberia,    where    they    enjoy    Government    protection,    the 
islands  being  leased  to  the  Alaska  Commercial  Company 
by  whom  only  a  stated  number,  all  non-breeding  males, 
may  be  killed  each  year,  the  permanence  of  the  fishery 
being    thus    perfectly    secured.      Aquatic    mammals    also 
which  never  leave  the  water,  ■  like  whales  and  sirenians, 
being  conspicuous  by  reason  of  their  size,  and  incapable 
of  rapid  multiplication,  may,  especially  when  they  breed 
near  the  shore,  suffer  extermination.     As  examples  (iiay 
be   cited    the   Arctic   sea  coV  {Rhytina   stelleri)  and  the 
Pacific    grey  whale   {Rhachiaiifctes   glawus),    the    former 
extinct,  the  latter  having  practically  become  so  within  the 
present  century.     The   sperm   whale   is  also  rapidly  dis- 
appearing.    In  the  case  of  fixed  animals  like  the  oyster, 
the   corals,  and  the  sponges,   again,  the  colonies  or  beds 
may  be  swept  out  of  existence  exactly  as  forests  are  hewn 
down.     The  native  oyster  beds  of  Europe  are  for  the  most 
part  gone,  and  still  more  rapid  has  been  the  recent  destruc- 
tion of  the  oyster  reefs  in  Pocomoke  Sound,  Maryland,  a 
large  estuary,  formerly  very  productive — the  result  being 
due  more  directly  to  the  choking  up  of  the  beds  by  the 
rubbish  dragged  over  them  by  dredges,  and  the  demolition 
of  ledges  suitable  for  the  reception  of  young  spat,  than  to 
the  removal  of  all  the  adult  oysters,  which  could,  of  course, 
never  have  been  effected.     The  preservation  of  oyster-beds 
ia  a  matter  of  vital  importance  to  the  United  States,  for 
oyster-fishing,  unsupported    by   oyster-culture,    will    soon 
destroy  the  employment  of  tens  of  thousands  and  a  cheap 
and  favourite  food  of  tens  of  millions  of  the  people.    Some- 
thing may  undoubtedly  be  effected  by  laws  which  shall 
allow  each  bed  to  rest  for  a  period  of  years  after  each  season 
of  fishing  upon  it.     It  is,  however,  the  general  belief  that 
shell-fish  beds  must  be  cultivated  as  carefully  as  are  garden 
beds,  and  that  this  can  be  done  only  by  giving  to  indivi- 
duals rights  in  submerged  lands,  similar  to  those  which 
may  be  acquired  upon   shore.      Tt  is  probable  that  the 
present  unregulated  methods  will  prevail  until  the  dredging 
of  the  natural  beds  shall  cease  to  be  remunerative,  and 
that  the  oyster  industry  will  then  pass  from  the  improvi- 
dent fishermen  to  the  painstaking  oyster-grower,  with  a 
corresponding  increase  in  price  and  decrease  in  consump- 
tion.    Such  a  change  has  already  taken  place  in  France 
aad  Holland,  and  to  a  large  extent  in  England,  but  there 
appear  to  be  almost  unsurmountable  difficulties  in  the  way 
rf  protecting  the  property  of  oyster-culturists  from  depre- 


dations—difficulties apparently  as  formidable  in  England 
as  in  America. 

Fishes  in  ponds,  lakes,  or  streams  are  quickly  exter- 
minated unless   the    young  be    protected,   the   spawning 
season  undisturbed,  and    wholesale    methods    of   capture 
prohibited.     Salmon  and  trout  streams  are  preserved  in 
all  countries  of  northern  Europe  ;  and  in  Canada  also  a 
large    service  of  fishery  wardens  is  maintained.     In  the 
United  States  there  are  in  many  of  the  older  common 
wealths  excellent  codes  of   laws  for  the   preservation  of 
fish  and  game,  which  are  enforced  by  anglers'  clubs.     A 
river  may  quickly  be  emptied  of  its  anadromous  visitors, 
salmon,  shad,  andalewives,  by  over-fishing  in  the  spawning 
season,  as  well  as  by  dams  which  cut  off  the  fish  from 
their  spawning-grounds.     Numerous  rivers  in  Europe  and 
America  might  be  named  in  which  this  has  occurred.     In 
the  same  way,  sea  fishes  approaching  the  coasts  to  spawn 
in  the  bays  or  upon  the  shoals  may  be  embarrassed,  and 
the  numbers  of  each  school  decimated, — particularly  if,  as 
in   the  case  of   the    herring,    the  eggs  are  adhesive  and 
become  entangled  in  nets.    Sea  fishes  spawning  in  festuaries 
are  affected  much   in  the  same  manner  as  the  salmon  in 
rivers,  though  in  a  less  degree,  by  wholesale  capture  in 
stationary  nets.      The  shad  and  alewife  fisheries  of  the 
United  States  are  protected  by  an  extensive  code  of  laws, 
varying  in  the  several  States  and  in  the  different  rivers  of 
each  State.     The  most  satisfactory  laws  appear  to  be  those 
which  regulate  the  dates  when  fishery  must  commence 'and 
end,  and  prescribe  at  least  one  day  in  each  week,  usually 
Sunday,  during  which  the  ascent  oL  the  fish  may  not  be 
interrupted.      Migratory,   semi-migratory,    or    wandering 
fishes,  ranging  singly  or  in  schools  over  broad  stretches  of 
ocean,  the  mackerels,  the  tunnies,  the  sardines  or  pilchards, 
the  menhaden,  the  bluefioh,  the   bonitoes,  and  the  sque- 
teague,  stand  apparently  beyond  the  influence  of  human 
agency,  especially  since,  so  far  as  is  known,  they  spawn  at  a 
distance  from  the  coast,  or  since  the  adults,  when  about  to 
spawn,  cannot  be  reached  by  any  kind  of  fishery  apparatus. 
Their  fecundity  is  almost  beyond  comprehension,  and  in 
many  instances  their  eggs  float  free  near  the  surface,  and 
are  quickly  disseminated  over  broad  areas.     The  conclu- 
sions gained  by  Prof.  Baird,  U.S.  commissioner  of  fisheries, 
agree  exactly  with  those  of  Prof.  H'lxley,  that  the  number 
of  any  given  kind  of  oceanic  fish  killed  by  man  is  perfectly 
insignificant  wben  compared  with  the  destruction  effected 
by  their  natural  enemies.     Almost  any  body  of  water,  be 
it  a  bay  or  sound,  or  be  it  the  co\ering  of  a  ledge  or  shoal 
at  sea,  may  be  over-fished  to  such  a  degree  that  fishing 
becomes  unprofitable,  especially  if  fishing  be  carried  on  in 
the  spawning  season.     In  this  manner,  no  doubt,  have  the 
coasts  of  England  been  robbed  of  the  formerlv  abundant 
supplies  of  turbot  and  sole. 

The  character  of  the  various  destructive  influences  which 
man  brings  to  bear  upon  the  inhabitants  of  the  water  and 
their  effects  having  thus  been  briefly  noticed,  the  student 
of  fish  culture  is  confronted  by  the  question.  What  can  be 
done  to  neutralize  these  destructive  tendencies?  There 
are  evidently  three  things  to  do: — (I)  to  preserve  fish 
waters,  especially  those  inland,  as  nearly  as  it  may  be 
possible  in  their  normal  condition  ;  (2)  to  prohibit  waste- 
ful o\  immoderate  fishing;  and  (3)  to  put  into  practice 
the  art  of  fish  breeding — (a)  to  aid  in  maintaining  a 
natural  supply,  (b)  to  repair  the  effects  of  past  improvi- 
'den'ces,  and  {c)  to  increase  the  supply  beyond  its  natural 
limits  rapidly  enough  to  meet  the  necessities  of  a  con- 
stantly increasing  population. 

The  preservation  of  normal  conditions  in  inland  waters 
is  comparatively  simple.  A  reasonable  system  of  forestry 
and  water-purification  is  all  that  is  required ;  and  thi.s  is 
needed  not  only  by  the  fish  in  the  streams  but  by  the 


FiSCI  CULTURE 


127 


people  living  on  the  banks.  It  has  been  shown  that  a 
river  which  is  too  foul  for  fish  to  live  in  is  not  fit  to  flow 
near  the  habitations  of  man.  Obstructions,  such  as  dams, 
may,  in  most  instances,  be  overcome  by  fish  ladders.  The 
salmon  has  profited  much  by  those  devices  in  Europe,  and 
the  immense  dams  in  American  rivers  will  doubtless  bo 
passable  even  for  shad  and  alewives  if  the  new  system 
of  fishway  construction  devised  by  Col.  M'Donald,  and 
now  being  applied  on  the  Savannah,  James,  and  Potomac, 
and  ofhor  large  rivers,  fulfils  its  present  promises  of 
success.' 
1  The  protection  of  fish  by  law  is  what  legislators  have 
been  trying  to  effect  for  many  centuries,  and  the  success 
of  their  efforts  must  be  admitted  to  have  been  very  slight 
indeed.  Great  Britain  has  at  present  two  schools  of  fishery- 
economists, — the  one  headed  by  Prof.  Huxlc)^,  opposed 
to  legislation,  save  for  the  preservation  of  fish  in  inland 
waters ;  the  other,  of  which  Dr  Francis  Day  is  the  chief 
leader,  advocating  a  strenuous  legal  regulation  of  sea 
fisheries  also.  Continental  Europe  is  by  tradition  and 
belief  committed  to  the  last-named  policy.  In  the  United 
States,  on  the  contrary,  public  opinion  is  generally  anta- 
gonistic to  fishery  legislation ;  and  Prof.  Baird,  the  com- 
missioner of  fisheries,  after  carrying  on  for  fourteen  years, 
with  the  aid  of  a  large  staff  of  scientific  specialists,  inves- 
tigations upon  this  very  question,  has  not  yet  become 
satisfied  that  laws  are  necessary  for  the  perpetuation  of  the 
sea  fisheries,  nor  has  he  ever  recommended  to  Congress  the 
enactment  of  any  kind  of  fishery  laws 
.  Just  here  we  meet  the  test  problem  in  fish  culture. 
Many  of  the  most  important  commercial  fisheries  of  the 
world,  the  cod  fishery,  the  herring  fishery,  the  sardine 
fishery,  the  shad  and  alewife  fishery,  the  mullet  fishery, 
the  salmon  fishery,  the  whitefish  fishery,  the  smelt  fishery, 
and  many  others,  owe  their  existence  to  the  fact  that  once 
a  year  these  fishes  gather .  together  in  closely  swimming 
schools,  to  spawn  in  shallow  water,  on  shoals,  or  in  estua- 
ries and  rivers.  There  is  a  large  school  of  quasi  econo- 
mists who  clamour  for  the  complete  prohibition  of  fishing 
during  spawning  time.  Their  demand  demonstrates  their 
ignorance.  Deer,  game,  birds,  and  other  land  animals 
may  easily  be  protected  in  the  breeding  season,  and  so 
may  trout  and  other  fishes  of  strictly  local  habits.  Not  so 
the  anadromous  and  pelagic  fishes.  If. they  are  not  caught 
ia  the  spawning  season,  they  cannot  be  caught  at  aU. 

The  writer  recently  heard  a  prominent  fishculturist 
advocating  before  a  committee  of  the  United  States  Senate 
the  view  that  shad  should  not  be  caught  in  the  rivers 
because  they  come  into  the  rivers  to  spawn.  When  asked 
what  would  become  of  the  immense  shad-fisheries  if  tliLs 
were  done,  he  ventured  .the  remark  that  doubtless  some 
ingenious  person  would  invent  a  meaYis  of  catching  them 
at  sea.y  The  fallacy  in  the  argument  of  these  economists 
lies,  in  part,  in  supposing  that  it  is  more  destructive  to 
the  progeny  of  a  given  fish  to  kill  it  when  its  eggs  are 
nearly  ripe  than  to  kill  the  same  fish  eight  or  ten  months 
earlier.  We  must  not,  however,  ignore  the  counter-argu- 
ment. Such  is  the  mortality  among  fish  that  only  an 
infinitesimal  percentage  attains  to  maturity.  Professor 
Mdbius  has  shown  that  for  every  grown  oyster  upon  the 
beds  of  Schleswig-Holstein  J, 045, 000  have  died.  Only  a 
very  small  percentage,  perhaps  not  greater  than  this,  of 
the  shad  or  the  sipelt  ever  comes  upon  the  breeding 
grounds.  Some  consideration,  then,  ought  to  be  shown 
to  those  individuals  which  have  escaped  from  their  enemies 
and  have  come  up  to  deposit  the  precious  burden  of  eggs. 
How  much  must  they  be  protected  ?  Here  the  fish-cul- 
turist  comes  in  with  the  proposition  that  "  it  is  cheaper  to 

'  /iepori  of  United  States  Fish  Commission  for  1883 


make  fish  so  plentiful  by  artificial  means  that  every  fisher.* 
man  may  take  all  he  can  catch  than  to  enforce  a  code  of 
protection  laws." 

The  salmon  rivers  of  the  Pacific  slope  of  the  United 
States,  the  shad  rivers  of  the  cast,  and  the  whitefish 
fisheries  of  the  lakes  are  now  so  thoroughly  under  control 
by  the  fish-culturist  that  it  is  doubtful  if  any*  one  will 
venture  to  contradict  his  assertion.  The  question  is 
whether  he  can  e.xtend  his  domain  to  other  species. 

Fish-culture  in  a  restricted  sense  must  sooner  or  later 
be  resorted  to  in  all  densely  populated  countries,  for,  with 
the  utmost  protection,  nature  unaided  can  do- but  little  to 
meet  the  natural  demand  for  fish  to  eat.  Pond-culture 
{I'eichivirthschafl),  has  been  practised  for  many  centuries, 
and  the  carp  and  the  gold-fish  have  become  domesticated 
like  poultry  and  cattle.  The  culture  of  carp  is  an  import- 
ant industry  in  China  and  in  Germany,  though  perhaps 
not  more  so  than  it  was  in  England  three  and  four 
centuries  ago;  the'  remains  of  ancient  fish-stews  may  be 
seen  upon  almost  every  large  estate  in  England,  and 
particularly  in  the  vicinity  of  old  monasteries.  Strangely 
enough,  not  a  single  well-conducted  carp-pond  e.\ists  in 
England  to-day  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  tens  of 
thousands  which  were  formerly  sustained,  and  the  carp, 
escaping  from  cultivation,  have  reverted  to  a  feral  state  and 
are  of  little  value.  Until  "improved  varieticfs  of  carp  are 
introduced  from  Germany,  carp-culture  can  never  be  made 
to  succeed  in  England.  Carp-culture  is  rapidly  coming 
into  favour  in  the  United  States  ;  a  number  of  young  scale 
carp  and  leather  carp  were  imported  in  1877  for  breeding 
purposes,  and  the  fish  commission  has  since  distributed 
them  to  at  least  30,000  ponds.  Two  railway  cars  especi- 
ally built  for  the  purpose  are  employed  during  the 
autumn  months  delivering  cargoes  of  carp,  often  making 
journeys  of  over  three  thousand  miles,  and  special  ship- 
ments have  been  made  to  Mexico  and  Brazil.  The  carp  is 
not  recommended  as  a  substitute  for  the  salmon,  but  ia 
especially  suited  to  regions  remote  from  the  sea  whore 
better-flavoured  fish  cannot  be  had  in  a  fresh  condition. 

A  kind  of  pond-culture  appears  to  have  been  practised 
by  the  ancient  Egyptians,  though  in  that  country  as  in 
ancient  Greece  and  llomc,  the  practice  seems  to  have  been 
similar  to  that  now  employed  in  the  lagoons  of  the  Adriatic 
and  of  Greece,  and  to  have  consisted  in  driving  the  young 
fish  of  the  sea  into  artificial  •  enclosures  or  vivaria,  when 
they  were  kept  until  they  were  large  enough  to  be  used. 

The  discovery  of  the  art  of  artificially  fecundating  the 
ova  of  fish  must  apparently  be  accredited  to_  Stephen 
Ludwig  Jacobi  of  Hohenhauscn  in  Westphalia,  who,  as 
early  as  1748,  carried  on  successful  experiments  in  breed- 
ing salmon  and  trout.  The  importance  of  this  discovery 
was  thoroughly  appreciated  at  the  time,  and  from  1763 
to  1800  was  a  fruitful  subject  of  discussion  in  England, 
France,  and  Germany.  George  HI.  of  England  in  1771 
granted  to  Jacobi  a  life  pension.  It  has  been  claimed  by 
many  French  writers  that  the  process  of  artificial  fecunda- 
tion was  discovered  as  early  as  1420  by  Dom  Pinchon,  a 
monk  in  the  abbey  of  Keomc,  but  this  claim  is  but  a  fcoblo 
one,  not  having  been  advanced  until  18.04,  and  it  '\i\ 
believed  by  many  t!.-l  the  practice  of  the  French  monk 
was  sim(ily  to  collect  and  transplant  the  eggs  .which  he 
had  already  found  naturally  fertilized.  Ho.wcvcr  interest- 
ing to  the  antiquarian,  the  proceedings  of  Horn  Pinchon 
had  no  influence  upon  the  progress  of  fish-culture.  To 
Germany,  beyond  question,  belongs  the  honour  of  discover- 
ing and  carrying  into  practical  usefulness  the  art  of  fish- 
culture.  Upon  the  estate  of  Jacobi,  by  the  discoverer 
and  his  sons,  it  was  carried  on  as  a  branch  of  agriculture 
for  fully  eighty  years— from  1741  to  1825 — though  it 
'  was  nearly  a  hundred  years   before  public  oi)inion  \vm 


PISCICULTURE 


12« 

ripe  for  a  general  acceptance  of  its  usefulness,  a  period 
during  which  its  practice  was  never  abandoned  by  the 
Germans. 

Fish-culturb  m  Britain  was  inauguratea  m  lasi  by  Mr 
John    Shaw,  gamekeeper  to    the    duke    of    Buccleuch  at 
Urumlanrig,  who,  in  the  course  of  ichthyological  investiga- 
tions, had  occasion'  to  fecundate  the  eggs  of  salmon  and 
rear  the  young  ;  and,  as  regards  France,  an  illiterate  fisher- 
man, Joseph  Remy,  living  in  the  mountains  of  the  Vosges, 
rediscovered,  as  it  is  claimed,  or  at  any  rate   successfully 
practised,  in  association  with  Antoine  Gehin,  the  culture  of 
trout  in  1842.     The  originality  and  practical  influence  of 
Remy  and  Gehin's  work  appear  to  have  been  exaggerated 
by  French  writers.     On  the  other  hand  the  establishment 
in  1850  at  Huningue  (Huiiingen)  in  Alsace  by  the  French 
Government  of  the  first  fish-breeding  station,  or  "  pisci- 
factory,"  as  it  was  named  by  Professor  Coste,  is  of  great 
signiflc'lnce,  since  it  marks  the  beginning  of  public  fish- 
culture.     The  art  discovered  in  Germany  was  practised  in 
Italy  as  early  as  1791  by  Baufalini,  in  France  in  1820,  in 
Bohemia  in  1824,  in  Great  Britain  in  1837,  in  Switzerland 
in  1842,  in  Norway  under  Government  patronage  in  1850, 
in   Finland   in    1852,  in   the  United  States   in   1853,  in 
Belgium,  Holland,  and  Russia  in  1854,  in  Canada  about 
1863    in  Austria  in  1865,  in  Australasia,-  by  the  intro- 
duction of  English  salmon,   in   1862,  and  in  Japan  in 
1877. 

Artificial  Propagation.— Sjmigcs  have  been  sxicccssfully  niiiUi- 
plied  by  cuttings,  like  plants,  in  Austria  and  in  Florida.  Oijsiers 
have  lone  been  raised  m  artificial  enclosures  from  spat  naturally 
deposited  upon  artificial  stools.  The  eggs  of  the  American  and 
Portuguese  oysters  have  been  artificially  fecundated  and  the  young 
liatcbed,  and  in  July  1883  Mr  John  A.  Ryder,  embryologist  of 
tho  U  S  Fish  Commission,  solved  the  most  difticult  problem  m 
American  oysterculture  by  completing  a  mechanical  device  for  pre- 
venting tho  escape  of  the  newly  hatched  oysters  while  swimming 
about  prior  to  fixation,  i  The  English  oyster,  being  hermUphrod.te, 
ot  nioncecious,  cannot  be  artificially  propagated  from  the  egg  like 
the  dicecious  American  species. 

The  fertilization  of  the  tish  egg  is  the.  simplest  of  processes,  con- 
sisting, as  every  one  knows,  in  simply  pressing  tho  ripe  ova  Irom 
the  female  fish  into  a  shallow  receptacle  and  then  squeezing  out 
the  milt  of  the  male  upon  them.  Formerly  a  gr^at  dea  of  water 
was  placed  in  the  ran ;  now  the  "dry  method,    mth  only  a  little. 


was  placea  in  rue  pan  ;  uuw  mo      "ij  i.i^i..^ — ,     ■;•—;■■•.'- 
discovered  by  the  Russian  Vrasski  in  1854,  is  preferred.     The  eggs 
haying  been  fertilized,  the  most  difficult  part  of  the  task  remains, 
namely,  the  care  of  the  eggs  until  they  are  hatched,  and  the  care 
of  the  young  until  they  are  able  to  care  for  themselves. 

The  apparatus  employed  is  various  in  principle,  to  correspond  to 
the  physical  peculiarities  of  the  eggs.     Fish-cultuiLsts  divide  eggs 
Into  four  classes,  viz.  :-(l)  heavy  eggs,  rion-adliesive,  whose  specihc 
gravity  is  so  great  that  they  will  not  float,  such  as  the  eggs  ot  the 
Llmon  and  trout ;  (2)  heavy  adhesive  eggs,  such  as  those  of  the 
herring,    smelt,  and  perch:  (3)  semi-bnoyant  eggs,  like  those  ot 
the  shad  and  whitefish  (Coregonus)  ■  and  (4)  buoyant  eggs,  like  those 
of  the  cod  and  mackerel.     (1)  Heavy  non-udhesive  eggs  are  placed 
in  thin  layers  either  upon  gravel,  grilles  of  glass,  or  sheets  ot  wire 
cloth,  in  receptacles  through  which  a  current  of  water  is  constantly 
passing      There  are  numerous  forms  of  apparatus  for  eggs  of  this 
class   but  the  most  effective  are  those  in  which  a  number  of  trays 
of  wire  cloth,  sufficiently  deep  to  carry  single  layers  of  eggs,  are 
placed  one  upon  the  other  in  a  box  or  jar  into  which  the  water 
enters  from  below,  passing  out   at  the  top.     (2)  Heavy  adhesive 
eggs  are  received  upMi  bunches  of  twigs  or  frames  of  glass  plates 
to  which  they  adhere,  and  which  are  placed  in  receptacles  through 
which   wat«r  is  passing.     (3)  Semi-buoyant  eggs,  or  those  whose 
specific   gravity  is  but  slightly  greater   than  that  of  the   water, 
require  altogether  different  treatment.     They  are  necessarily  placed 
together  in  Targe  numbers,  and  to  prevent  their  settling  upon  the 
bottom  of  the  receptacle  it  is  necessary  to  introduce  a  gentle  current 
from  below.     For  many  years  these  eggs  could  be  hatched  only  in 
floating  receptacles  with  wire-cloth  bottoms,  placed  at  an  angle  to 
the  current  of  the  stream  in  which  they  were  fixed,  the  motion  of 
which  was  utilized  to   keep   the   eggs   in   suspension.     Later   an 
arrangement  of  plunging-buckets  was  invented,  cylindrical  recep- 
Ucles  with  tops  and  bottoms  of  wire  cloth,  which  were  susp«nded 
•n  rows  from  beams  worked  up  and  down   at  the  surface  of  the 
water  by  machinery.     The  eggs  in  the  cylinders  were  thus  kept 

\  Bulletin,  United  States  Fish  CommissioD.  1883. 


constantly  in  motion.  Finally  the  device  now  mgst  in  favour  was 
perfected  ;  this  is  a  receptacle,  conical,  or  at  least  with  a  constricted 
termination,  placed  with  its  apex  downward,  through  which  piisacs 
from  below  a  strong  current,  keeping  the  eggs  constantly  suspended 
and  in  motion.  This  form  of  apparatus,  of  which  the  M'Donald 
and  Clark  hatching-jars  are  the  most  perfect  development,  may  bo 
worked  in  connexion  with  any  common  hydrant^  (4)  Floatmg 
eccs  have  been  hatched  only  by  means  of  rude  contrivances  for 
sustaiiiinc  a  lateral  circular  eddy  of  water  in  the  receptacle. 

Tho  use  of  refrigerators,  to  retard  the  development  of  the  eggs 
until  such  time  as  ii;  is  most  convenient  to  take  care  of  the  fiy, 
has  been  extensively  introduced  in  the  United  States,  and  haa 
been  experimented  upon  in  Germany. 

The  (fistinction  between  private  and  public  fish-culture  must  oo 
carefully  observed.     The  maintenance  of  ponds  for  carp,  trout  and 
other  domesticated  species  is  an  industry  to  be  classed  with  poultry- 
raisinc  ami  bee-keeping,  and  its  interest  to  the  political  economist 
is  but"  slight.     Tho   proper   function  of  public  fish-culture  is  tho 
stocking  of  the  public  witers  with  fish  in  which  no  individual  can 
claim  the  right  of  property.     This  is  being  done  in  the  rivers  of 
the  United  States,  witrh  salmon,  shad,  and  alewives,  and  in  the 
lakes  with  whitefish.     The  use  of  steamships  and  steam  machinery, 
the  construction  of  refrigerating  transportation  cars,  two  of  which, 
with  a  corps  of  trained  experts,  are  constantly  employed  by  the 
United  States  Fish  Commission,  moving  fish  and  eggs  from  ilaine 
to  Texas   and  from  Maryland  to  California,  and  the  maintenance 
of  permanent  hatching  sUtions,  seventeen  in  number,  in  different 
parts  of  the  continent,  are  forms  of  activity  only  attainable  by 
Government  aid.     Equally  unatUinable  by  private  effort  would  be 
the  enormous  experiments  in  transplanting  and  acclimatizing  tisl« 
in  new  waters,— such  as  the  planting  of  Californian  salmon  lu  the 
rivers  of  the  east,  land-locked  salmon  and  smelt  in  the  lakes  and 
rivers  of  the  interior,  and  shad  in  California  and  the  Mississippi 
valley   and  the  extensive  acclimatization  of  German  carp  ;  the  two 
last-named  experiments  carried  out  within  a  period  of  three  years 
have  met  with   successes  beyond  doubt,  and  are  of  the  grea  est 
importance  to   the  country  ;  the  others  have   been  more  or  less 
successful,  though  their  results  are  not  yet  fully  realized.     It  has 
been  demonstrated,  however,  that  the  great  river  fisheries  of  tho 
United  States,  which  produced  in  1880  48,000,000  lb  of  alewives. 
18  000,000  lb  of  shad,  52,000,000  lb  of  salmon,  l'«si'l/s  bass   stur- 
geon, and  smelt,  and  worth  "  at  first  hand    between  4,000,000  and 
6  000  000  dollars,  are  entirely  under  the  control  of  the  fish-cultuiist 
to  sustain  or  to  destroy,  and  are  capable  of  immense  extension 

Having  now  attempted  to  define  the  field  of  modem  fish-culture, 
and  to  show  what  it  has  already  accomplished,  it  remains  to  ho 
stated  what  appear  to  be  its  legitimate  aims  and  limitations. 

The  aims  oKmbdern  fish-culture,  as  understood  by  the  present 
writer,  aie-(l)  to  arrive   at  a- thorough   knowledge  of  the  Ule 
history  from  beginning  to  end  of  every  species  of  economic  value 
?he  histories  of  the  aliimals   and   plants   "r^v'i't,   o'fM'e^ 
or   upon  which   their   food   is   nourished     the   histories   of  their 
enemies  and  friends,  and  the  friends  and  foes  of  their  enemies  and 
friends,  as  well  as  the  currents,  temperatures,  and  other  physical 
phenomena  of  the  waters  in  relation  to  migration,  reproduction 
and  growth  ;  and  (2)  to  apply  this  knowledge  m  such  a  practical 
manSer  that  every  form  of  fish  shall  be  at  least  as  thoroughly  under 
Control  as  are  now  the  salmon,  the  shad,  the  alew.fe,  the  car,.,  and 
the   whitefish.     Its   limitations   are' precisely  those   of   scientiho 
agriculture  and   animal  rcaiiiig,  since,  altliongh  certain  I'l  5 ^ica) 
conditions  may  constantly  intervene  to  thwart  man  s  e^"^'^  '"  ^^ 
given  direction,  it  is  quite  within  the  bpunds  of  reasonable  expecta- 
tion to  be  able  to  understand  what  these  are,  and  how  their  effects 
are  produced.     An  important  consideration  concerning  the  limita- 
tions of  fish-culture  must  always  be  kept  ^"."^'"d  in  weighing  the 
arguments  for  and  against  its  success,  viz.,  tl>ft/«^°:,  ,.*,"^^^'tt,t  ^ 
acclimatization  of  fishes  in  new  waters  is  "»*  .  I V.h  c^.lhiremav 
simply  one  of  the  necessary  experiments  upon  which  fi«h-culture  may 
be  b  Jed.     The  introduction  of  carp  from  Germany  to  the  Un    ed 
States  was  not  fish-culture;  it  was  an  experiment ;  the  exner  ment 
has  succeeded,  and  fish-culture  is  now  one  of  its  results.     The  intro- 
Suction  of  Caifornia  salmon  to  the  Atlantic  slope  was  an  experr- 
men    ;  it  has  not  succeeded;  its  failure  has  nothing  to  do  with 
Sie  success  of  fish-culture.     If  any  one  wants  to  see  successful  fish- 
cu  t^eTn  connexion  with  this  fish  let  him  go  to  the  Sacramento 
dver      The   introduction   of  shad   to   the   Pacific   coast   was   an 
ex^riment ;   it  succeeded  ;   shad  culture  can  now  be  carried  on 
:^\^Zl«  of  failure  by  the  Fish  Commission  "f   he  Pacific  Spates. 
An   eniiallv  established  success  is  whitehsh  culture  in  the  t.reat 
li^es^    The  experimentb  with  cod  and  Spanish  mackerel  were  not 
fith-culture,  though  it  is  hoped  that  they  may  yet  lead  up  to  it 
AM  there  is  every  reason   to   believe,  from  experiments  in  part 
^mpkted,  that  the  dominion  of  fish-culture  may  be -tendei  m 
like  manner  to  certain  of  the  great  sea  fisheries,  such  as  the  cod. 
haddock,  herring,  mackerel,  and  Spanishmackerel  fisheries. 


I 


Traniactions.  American  Fish  Cultural  Association.  1883. 


P I S— P I s 


.29 


Public  6shcuUure  exists  only  in  the  Uuitcd  States  ami  Canada. 
European  fish  culturista  liave  always  operated  with  only  small 
numbers  of  eggs.  The  hatchery  of  Sir  James  Maitland  at  Howieton 
near  Stirling,  Scotland,  may  be  specially  mentioned  in  this  con- 
nexion, since  it  is  undoubtedly  the  finest  private  fish-cultural 
establishment  in  the  world.  It  is  described  in  one  of  the  Confer- 
ence papers  of  tlfe  International  Fishery  Exhibition. 

The  recent  organization  of  the  Scottish  Fishery  Board,  and  the 
establishment  of  a  society  for  the  biological  investigation  of  the 
coasts  of  Great  Britain,  are  indications  that  England,  having  at  last 
recognized  the  importance  of  protecting  its  extensive  fishery 
industries,  will  at  no  distant  time  become  a  leader  in  matters  of 
6shery  economy. 

Holland,  Germany,  and  Norway  have  hitherto  been  the  only 
European  nations  manifesting  intelligent  enterprise  in  the  con- 
Eideration  of  fishery  questions  in  general,  although  fair  work  has 
been  done  by  Sweden  and  other  countries  in  the  treatment  of 
limited  special  branches  of  this  industry.  In  Germany  the 
functions  of  the  German  Fishery  Union  {Deutsche-  FUcherci- 
Verein)  and  of  the  commission  for  the  investigation  of  the  German 
seas  {Ministerlal-JCommissUm  zur  u'issejischa/tlichen  Vntcrsttchutig 
der  deutschcn  Meere  zu  Kiel),  taken  together,  represent  practically 
the  two  divisions  of  the  work  of  the  United  States  Fish  Commission, 
— propagation  and  investigation.  The  latter  body  is  composed  of 
a  commission  of  scientific  men,  whose  head  is  appointed  by  the 
Government ;  it  is  carried  on  with  Government  funds,  but  is  not  in 
any  way  subjected  to  Government  control,  the  central  headquarters 
being  at  Kiel  instead  of  Berlin.  .  The  Fischerei- Vermin  is  also  a 
privat"  body,  under  the  patronage  of  the  emperor,  and  with  funds 

Sartly  furnished  by  the  Government  and  having  also  the  general 
irection  of  the  5fational  Fish  Cultural  Society  at  Hiiningen. 
This,  also,  is  not  a  bureau  of  any  Government  department,  but 
managed  entirely  by  its  own  officers.  It  is  the  only  European  fish- 
eries institution  that  has  so  far  constituted  a  thoroughly  successful 
experiment  The  Netherlands  Commission  of  Sea  Fisheries  [Collegie 
vooT  de  Zeevisscherijeii)  is  a  body  of  fifteen  men,  chiefly  workers  in 
science,  occupying  a  responsible  position  in  the  national  economy, 
their  function  being  "to  advise  Government  in  all  subjects  con- 
nected with  the  interest  of  the  fisheries."  During  the  twenty-five 
years  of  its  existence,  says  its  historian,  "the  commission  has  con- 
stantly been  consulted  fcy  Government  on  the  difTerent  measures 
that  might  be  beneficial,  or  on  the  abolition  of  others  that  were 
detrimental,  to  the  fisheries."  The  Society  for  the  Development 
of  Norwegian  Fisheries  (Sclskabel  for  de  Korske  Fiskerkrs  Fremme) 
is  an  organization  independent  of  the  Government,  and  electing  its 
own  officers,  but  receiving  largo  grants  from  Government  to  carry 
on  work  precisely  similar  to  that  of  the  United  States  Commission. 
In  1882-83  these  grants  amounted  to  49,000  kroner. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  interest  manifested  in  fish-culture  in  the 
United  States,  it  may  be  stated  that  from  1871  to  1883  $1,190,955 
lias  been  appropriated  by  Congress  for  the  use  of  the  United  States 
Fish  Commission,  and  that  thirty-five  of  the  State  Governments 
have  made  special  grants  for  fish-culture,  in  the  aggregate  equal  to 
$1,101,000.  To  show  tho  wholesale  methods  employed  in  this,  a 
letter  by  Mr  Livingston  Stone,  superintendent  of  One  of  the 
seventeen  hatcheries  supported  by  tho  United  States  Fish  Commis- 
sion, that  on  the  M'Cloucf  river  in  California,  may  be  quoted :  — 

"  In  the  eleven  years  since  the  salmon-breeding  station  has  been  In  operation 
67,000,000  eKgs  have  been  taken,  most  of  which  have  been  distributed  In  the 
Tarjouj  States  of  the  Union.  Several  millions,  however,  have  been  sent  to 
forel^  countries,  including  Germany,  France,  Great  Briuin,  Denmark,  RuasIh, 
Belgium,  Holland,  Oanada,  New  Zealand,  Australia,  and  tho  Sandwich  Islands. 
About  15,000,000  have  been  hatched  at  tho  station,  and  tho  young  ttsh  placed  In 
tha  M'Cloud  and  other  tributaries  of  tho  Saciamento  river.  So  gicat  have  been 
the  benefits  of  this  restocking  of  tho  Saciamento  that  tho  statistics  of  the  salmon 
fisheries  show  that  tho  annual  salmon  catch  of  the  river  has  increased  6,000,000 
pounds  each  year  during  tho  lost  few  years." 

Fifteen  canneries  now  are  fully  supplied,  whereas  in  1872  the 
single  establishment  then  on  the  river  was  obliged  to  close  for  lack 
of  fish.  In  the  two  Government  hatcheries  at  Alpena  and  North- 
villc,  Michigan,  there  have  been  produced  in  the  winter  of  1883-84' 
over  100,000,000  eggs  of  the  whitcfish,  Coregoims  clupciformh,  and 
the  total  number  of  young  fish  to  bo  placed  in  tho  Great  Lakes 
this  year  by  these  and  the  various  State  hatcheries  will  exceed 
225,000,000.  Tho  fishermen  of  tho  Great  Lakes  admit  that  but 
for  public  fish-culture  half  of  them  would  be  obliged  to  abandon 
their  calling.  Instances  of  great  impro\cmcnt  might  be  cited  in 
connexion  with  nearly  every  shad  river  in  tho  United  Stato.s.  In 
the  Potomac  alone  the  annual  yield  has  been  brought  up  by  tho 
operations  of  fi.sh-culturo  from  668,000  lb  in  1877  to  an  average  of 
mor"  than  1,600,000  lb  in  recent  years.  In  1882  carp  bred  in  tho 
Fieh  Commission  ponds  in  Washington  were  distributed  in  lots 
of  20  to  10,000  applicants  throughout  every  State  and  Tcrritflry,  at 
en  average  distance  of  more  than  900  miles,  tlio  total  milcngo  of  tho 
sni|imcnl3  being  about  9,000,000  miles,  and  thi"  uctuiil  distance 
traversed  by  the  transportation  car  34,000  miles.  There  still 
exists  in  Europe  some  scepticism  as  to  tho  bcnclicial  results  of  fish- 
culture.     Such  doubts  do  not  exist  on  the  other  sido  of  tho  Atlantic, 


If  the  continuance  from  year  to  year  of  liberal  grants  of  public 
money  may  be  considered  to  be  a  test  of  public  confidence. 

Perhaps  the  best  general  treatises  upon  the  methods  or  artificial  propagation 
practised  by  plsclcuhuilsts  are  Hcrr  Max  Von  Dem  Bojne's  Fiifhtufht,  Berlin 
1880,  and  from  the  philosophical  standpoint,  Dr  Francis  Day's  Fith  Culture,  oic 
of  the  handbooks  of  the  International  Fisheries  Exhibition  of  less.  The  repor'v 
and  bulletins  of  the  United  States  Fish  CommUsIon,  In  twelve  volumes,  from  187  J 
to  1884,  contain  full  descriptions  of  American  methods,  and  discussions  of  all 
foreign  discoveries  and  movements.  Two  prominent  London  Journals,  the  Fieltl 
and  Land  and  Water,  contain  authoritative  articles  upon  the  subject,  and  the 
museum  of  tlshcrles  and  flsh-ciilturo  at  South  Kensington,  enriched  as  It  has  been 
by  the  coniributlnns  of  exhibitors  at  the  Flsheiles  Exhibition  of  1883,  Is  an 
excellent  exponent  of  the  methods  and  Implements  In  use  In  the  past  and  at 
present.  For  a  hIstoi7  of  the  subject  see  "  Epochs  In  the  History  of  Fish 
Culture,"  by  G.  Blown  Goode,  In  Transactions  of  the  American  Fish  Cultuidl 
Association  (10th  meeting,  1881,  pp.  34-68),  and  "The  Status  of  the  United  States 
Fish  Commls.slun  In  1884,"  by  the  same  author.  In  part  xll,  of  the  Kfpori  of 
that  commission;  and  for  a  discussion  of  modem  methods  and  apparatus,  as 
shown  at  the  late  Fisheries  Exhibition,  the  essays  by  Mr  R.  Edward  Earl!  In  tho 
report  of  the  United  States  commissioner  to  the  exhibitioo  and  In  Mature  (Oct.  4, 
1883).  (G.  E.  G.) 

PISEK,  a  small  tovra  of  Bohemia,  55  miles  to  the  south 
of  Prague,  lies  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Wottawa,  which 
is  here  crossed  by  an  interesting  stone  bridge  of  great 
antiquity.  The  to^\Ti  generally  has  a  mediaeval  air, 
heightened  by  the  preservation  of  part  of  the  old  walls 
and  bastions.  The  most  prominent  buildings  are  the 
church  of  the  Nativity,  the  town-house,  and  the  venerable 
chateau.  The  name  of  Pisek,  which  is  the  Czech  for  sand, 
is  said  to  be  derived  from  the  gold-washing  formerly  carried 
on  in  the  bed  of  the  Wottawa.  This  source  of  profit, 
however,  has  been  long  extinct,  and  the  inhabitants  now 
support  themselves  by  iron  and  brass  founding,  brewing, 
and  the  manufacture  of  shoes  and  Turkish  fezes.  The 
population  in  1880  was  10,545. 

Pisek  was  one  of  the  chief  centres  of  the  Hussites,  and  it 
suffered  very  severely  in  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  when  Maximilian 
of  Bavaria  put  almost  all  the  inhabitants  to  the  sword.  It  was 
also  occupied  by  the  French  in  1741.  In  spite  of  these  reverses 
Pisek  is  now  a  very  wealthy  commuuity,  possessing  large  and 
valuable  tracts  of  woodland. 

PISIDIA,  in  ancient  geography,  was  the  name  given 
to  a  country  in  the  south  of  Asia  Minor,  immediately 
north  of  Pamphylia,  by  which  it  was  separated  from  the 
Mediterranean,  while  it  was  bounded  on  the  north  by 
Phrygia,  on  the  east  by  Isauria,  Lycaonia,  and  Cilicia,  and 
on  the  west  and  south-west  by  Lycia  and  a  part  of  Phrygia 
(see  vol.  XV.  PI.  11.).  It  was  a  rugged  and  mountainous 
district,  comprising  some  of  the  loftiest  portions  of  the 
great  range  of  Mount  Taurus,  together  with  the  offsho()t3 
of  the  same  chain  towards  the  central  tableland  of  Phrygia. 
Such  a  region  was  naturally  occupied  from  a  very  early 
period  by  wild  and  lawless  races  of  mountaineers,  who 
were  very  imperfectly  reduced  to  subjection  by  the  powers 
that  successively  established  their  dominion  in  Asia  Minor. 
The  Pisidians  are  not  mentioned  by  Herodotus,  either 
among  tho  nations  that  were  subdued  by  Croesus,  or  among 
those  that  furnished  contingents  to  tho  army  of  Xerxes, 
and  tho  first  mention  of  them  in  history  occurs  in  tho  Ana- 
basis of  Xenophon,  when  they  furnished  a  pretext  to  tho 
younger  Cyrus  for  levying  tho  army  with  which  ho  designed 
to  subvert  his  brother's  throne,  while  ho  pretended  only  to 
put  down  the  Pisidians  who  were  continually  harassing  the 
neighbouring  nations  by  their  lawless  forays  \Anab.  i.  1,  11 ; 
ii.  1,  4,  i'c).  They  are  afterwards  mentioned  by  Ephorus 
among  the  inland  nations  of  Asia  Minor,  and  assume  a 
more  prominent  part  in  the  history  of  Alexander  the  Great, 
to  whoso  march  through  their  country  thoy  opposed  a  deter- 
mined resistance.  In  Strabo's  time  they  had  passed  tran- 
quilly  under  the  Roman  dominion,  though  still  governed 
by  their  own  petty  chiefs  and  retaining  to  a  considerable 
extent  their  predatory  habits. 

Tho  boundaries  of  Pisidia,  like  those  of  most  of  tho 
inland  provinces  or  region.s  of  Asia  Minor,  were  not  clearly 
defined,  and  appear  to  have  fluctuated  at  different  times. 
This  was  especially  tho  ca.io  on  the  side  of  Lycia,  where 
tho  upland  district  of  Milyaa  was  Boractimi«  included 
in   Pisidia,   at   other   times   assigned    to    Lycia.      Some 

XIX.  —   17 


130 


P  I  S  —  P  I  S 


writers,  indeed,-  considered  tlie  Pisidians  as  the  same 
people  with  the  Milyans,  while  others  regarded  them  as 
descendants  of  the  Solymi,  but  Strabo  speaks  of  the 
language  of  the  Pisidians  as  distinct  from  that  of  the 
Solymi,  as  well  as  from  that  of  the  Lydians.  The  whole 
of  Pisidia  is  an  elevated  region  of  tablelands  or  upland 
valleys  in  the  midst  of  the  ranges  of  ilount  Taurus  which 
descends  abruptly  on  the  side  of  Pamphylia.  It  contains 
several  small  lakes,  but  the  only  one  of  any  importance  is 
that  now  called  the  Egerdin  Gol,  of  which  the  ancient 
name  has  not  been  preserved.  It  is  a  fresh-water  lake  of 
about  30  miles  in  length;  situated  in  the  north  of  Pisidia 
on  the  frontier  of  Phrygia,  at  an  elevation  of  2800  feet 
above  the  sea.  The  only  rivers  of  any  importance  are  the 
Cestrus  and  the  Eurymedon,  both  of  which  take  their  rise 
in  the  highest  ranges  of  Mount  Taurus,  and  flow  down 
through  deep  and  narrow  valleys  to  the  plain  of  Pamphylia, 
which  they  traverse  on  their  way  to  the  sea. 

Notwithstanding  its  rugged  axid  mountainous  character, 
Pisidia  contained  in  ancient  times  several  ■  considerable 
towns,  the  ruins  of  which  have  been  brought  to  light  by 
the  researches  of  recent  travellers  (Arundell,  Hamilton, 
Daniell),  and  show  them  to  have  attained  under  the 
Roman  empire  to  a  degree  of  opulence  and  prosperity  far 
beyond  what  we  should  have  looked  for  in  a  country  of 
predatory  mountaineers.  The  most  important  of  them  are 
Termessus,  near  the  frontier  of  Lycia,  a  strong  fortress  in 
a  position  of  great  natural  strength  and  commanding  one 
of  the  principal  passes  into  Pamphylia;  Cremna,  another 
mountain  fortress,  north  of  the  preceding,  impending  over 
the  valley  of  the  Cestrus ;  Sagalassus,  a  little  farther 
north,  a  large  town  in  a  strong  position,  the  ruins  of  which 
are  among  the  most  remarkable  in  Asia  Minor;  Selge,  on 
the  right  bank  of  the  Eurymedon,  surrounded  by  rugged 
mountains,  notwithstanding  which  it  was  in  Strabo's  time 
a  large  and  opulent  city ;  and  Antioch,  known  for  dis- 
tinction's sake  as  Antioch  in  Pisidia,  and  celebrated  for 
the"  visit  of  St  Paul.  This  was  situated  in  the  extreme 
north-east  of  the  district  immediately  on  the  frontier 
of  Phrygia,  between  Lake  Egerdin  and  the  range  of  the 
Sultan  Dagh.  Besides  these  there  were  situated  in  the 
rugged  mountain  tract  west  of  the  Cestrus  Cretopolis, 
Olba  or  Olbasa,  Pogla,  Isinda,  Etenna,  and  Conana. 
Pednelissus  was  in  the  upper  valley  of  the  Eurymedon 
above  Selge.  The  only  place  in  the  district  at  the  present 
day  deserving  to  be  called  a  town  is  Isbarta,  the  residence 
of  a  pasha ;  it  stands  at'  the  northern  foot  of  Mount 
Taurus,  looking  over  the  great  plain  which  extends  from 
thence  into  Phrygia.  North  of  this  and  immediately  on 
the  borders  of  Phrygia  stood  Apollonia,  caUed  also  Mor- 
diaeum.  Several  other  towns  are  assigned  to  Pisidia  by 
Strabo,  Pliny,  and  Ptolemy,  of  which  the  sites  have  not 
yet  be6n  determined. 

We  have  no  clue  to  the  ethnic  character  and  relations  of 
the  Pisidians,  except  that  we  learn  from  Strabo  that  they 
were  distinct  from  the  neighbouring  Solymi,  who  were 
probably  a  Semitic  race,  but  we  find  mention  at  an  early 
period  in  these  mountain  districts  of  various  other  tribes, 
as  the  Cabali,  Milyans,  &c.,  of  all  which,  as  well  as  the 
neighbouring  Isaurians  and  Lycaonians,  the  origin  is 
wholly  unknown,  and  in  the  absence  of  monuments  of 
|their  language  must,  in  all  probabUity,  ever  remain  so. 

PISISTRATUS,  citizen  and  afterwards  tyrant  "of 
Athens,  was  the  son  of  Hippocrates,  through  whom  he 
traced  his  pedigree  to  Neleus  and  Nestor,  princes  of 
Messene  in  ttie  Heroic  Age.  A  branch  of  the  family  had 
reigned  at  Athens  in  the  persons  of  Codrus  and  his 
descendants.  Pisistratus  was  second  cousin  to  Solon, 
t&eir  mothers  having  been  cousins,  and  the  early  friendship 
between  the  two  men  was  not  entirely  broken  off  even  by 


the  wide  political  differences  which  separated  them  imaier 
life.  Pisistratus,  who  was  much  junior  to  Solon,  was 
born  about  605  B.C.  In  his  youth  there  was  a  teen 
rivalry  between  Athens  and  iMcgara,  and  Pisistratus  as 
general  of  Athens  contrived  by  stratagem  to  defeat  the 
Megarians  and  capture  their  port  NisKa  (perhaps  570  or 
a  little  later). 1  But  Pisistratus  was  ambitious  of  move 
than  military  triumphs,  and  in  the  internal  condition  of 
Attica  he  discerned  the  road  to  power.  The  constitution 
which  Solon  had  given  to  Athens  a  few  years  before  (594 
B.C.)  was  too  moderate  to  satisfy  either  of  the  extreme 
parties.  The  wealthy  nobles  chafed  at  the  political  rights 
granted  to  the  lower  classes,  while  the  poor  were  dissatis- 
fied with  what  they  regarded  as  merely  a  half  measure  of 
relief.  The  nobles  themselves  were  divided  into  the 
parties  known  as  the  Plain  {Pcdieis)  and  the  Coast 
(Paraloi),  the  former  inhabiting  the  western  lowlands  of 
Attica,  the  latter  the  level  districts  on  the  southern  and 
eastern  coasts.^  The  former  were  led  by  the  noble 
Lycurgus,  the  latter  by  Megacles,  of  the  proud  house  of 
the  Alcmsonidae.  Pisistratus  took  advantage  of  their 
dissensions  to  form  a  third  political  party  out  of  the  men 
of  the  Mountain  (Diacreis  or  Bia'-rioi),  the  poor  cottars 
and  shepherds  of  the  eastern  and  northern  hills,  among 
whom  his  own  estates  lay.  He  easily  won  the  affection 
of  these  simple  highlanders.  His  manners  were  captivat- 
ing, his  good  humour  imperturbable  ;  his  purse  was  ever  at 
the  service  of  the  needy  ;  his  fields  and  gardens  stood  opeu 
for  their  enjoyment.  Equality  and  fraternity,  together 
with  the  maintenance  of  the  constitution,  were  the  watch- 
words of  this  eloquent  and  handsome  aristocrat,  the 
people's  friend.  But  his  easy  and  affable  deportment  hid 
a  boundless  ambition.  Solon  detected  his  schemes,  and 
warned  the  people  against  him,  but  in  vain.  One  day, 
not  long  after  a  violent  dispute  with  Megacles  in  the 
public  assembly,  Pisistratus  drove  into  the  market-place, 
himself  and  his  mules  bleeding  from  wounds  which  he  had 
inflicted  with  his  own  hand,  but  which  he  pretended  to 
have  received  from  his  political  enemies.  The  indignant 
people  decreed  a  guard  for  the  protec 'ion  of  their  cham- 
pion. Of  this  guard  the  champion  soon  availed  himself 
in  order  to  seize  the  Acropolis  and  make  himself  master 
of  Athens  (560).  Megacles  .and  the  Alcmseonidae  fled, 
but  Solon  remained  and  continued  to  lift  his  voice  against 
the  usurper,  who,  however,  treated  the  old  man  with  the 
utmost  deference,  as  a  valued  friend  and  counsellor. 
Solon  did  niw  long  survive  his  country's  freedom  ;  he  died 
in  the  next  year  (559).  The  government  of  Pisistratu.s 
was  marked  by  great  moderation ;  he  maintained  the 
existing  laws,  to  which  he  exacted  obedience  from  all,  and 
Set  the  example   of  it  himself.     Being  once  accused  of 

'  Herod.,  i.  59;  Justin,  ii.  8;  Frontinus,  iv.  7,  44.  Other  writers 
(Polyaenua,  i.  20;  .Elian,  Var.  Hist.,  rii.  19)  erroneously  attributii 
the  stratagem  to  Solon,  and  refer  it  to  the  expedition  in  which  Solon 
recovered  Salamis.  Plutarch  {Solon,  8)  falls  into  this  ipistake,  and 
adds  to  it  the  blimder  of  representing  Pisistratus  as  having  taken  part 
in  the  expedition,  which  happened  about  600  B.C.  The  two  events 
(Solon's  conquest  of  Salamis  and  Pisistratus's  capture  of  Salamis)  arj 
distinguished  by  Justin  (ii.  7,  8),  and  after  him  by  Duncker  {Oesch. 
des  Alterlkums,  vi.  pp.  145,  244)  and  others,  but  they  are  confussd 
by  Thirlwall  and  Grote.  From  Plutarch  {Solon,  8,  9)  we  may  in)er 
that  the  confusion  arose  in  popular  tradition.  The  account  of  tlie 
stratagem  itself  in  the  Greek  writers  Plutarch  and  Polysenus  differa 
somewhat  from  that  in  the  I  atin  writers  Justin  and  Froutinu.*. 
.ffilian  follows  (with  some  variations)  the  latter  account. 

'  The  difference  between  the  Pedieis  and  the  Paraloi  seems  to  have 
beeir  of  the  nature  of  a  local  feud  between  two  ancient  districts  of 
Attica  (Sohol.  on  Aristoph.,  Lys.,  58  ;  Strabo,  ix.  p.  39!  ;  Steph.  Byz. , 
s,v-v.  AidKpia,  Tldf  -Aos,  tteS/ov  ;  Suidas,  s.v,  UdpaXoi)  rather  than  a 
disagreement  between  two  political  parties.  It  is  true  that  Plutaith 
(Solon,  13)  represents  the  Paraloi  as  a  moderate  political  party,  inter, 
mediate  between  the  Pedieis  (oligarchs)  and  the  Diaorioi  (democrats), 
but  this  has  the  appearance  of  being  a  mere  conjecture  of  his  own. 
His  view  is,  however,  accepted  by  Curtius  and  Duncker. 


P I S— P I s 


131 


murder,  he  appeared  in  court  like  a  private  citizen  to 
answer  the  cliarge,  which,  however,  the  accuser  did  not 
venture  to  press.  But  before  he  had  time  to  e-tablish 
himself  firmly  on  the  throne,  he  was  expelled  by  a  coalition 
of  the  Plain  and  Coast  parties  (perhaps  in  555).i.  His 
property  was  confiscated  and  sold  by  auction.  But  after 
five  or  six  years  Megacles,  unable  to  make  head  against 
the  party  of  the  I'lain,  proposed  to  Pisistratus  to  secure 
his  recall  on  condition  that  Pisistratus  should  marry  his 
daughter  Coesyra.  Pisistratus  agreed,  and  his  return  was 
effected  by  a  stratagem.  A  tall  and  beautiful  woman, 
Phya  by  name,  was  dressed  as  the  goddess  Athene,  and 
drove  into  Athens  on  a  chariot  with  Pisistratus  at  her  side, 
while  heralds  proclaimed  that  Athene  herself  was  bringing 
back  Pisistratus.  Thus  restored,  Pisistratus  fulfilled  his 
part  of  the  bargain  by  marrying  Coesyra ;  but  by  his 
former  marriage  he  had  already  sons  approaching  manhood 
(Hippias  and  Hipparchus),  and  ho  treated  his  young  wife 
so '  slightingly  that  Megacles,  feeling  himself  affronted, 
made  peace  with  his  adversaries,  and  the  united  parties 
once  more  compelled  Pisistratus  to  quit  Athens  (perhaps 
in  549).  But  he  did  not  renounce  his  designs  on  the 
tyranny.  The  contributions  which  he  received  from 
various  cities,  especially  Thebes,  enabled  him  to  hire  a 
body  of  Argive  mercenaries,  with  which  he  landed  at 
Marathon  in  the  eleventh  year  after  his  expulsion  (perhaps 
in  538).  His  partisans  flocked  to  him,  and  he  defeated 
the  Athenians  at  Pallene,  and  repossessed  himself  of  the 
tyranny,  which  he  thenceforward  held  till  his  death.  He 
now  placed  his  power  on  a  securer  basis  by  keeping  a  body 
of  mercenaries  in  his  pay,  and  levying  a  tax  of  a  tenth  or 
a  twentieth  on  the  produce  of  the  soil.  A  further  revenue 
accrued  to  him  from  the  Thracian  mines,  and  probably 
from  the  silver  mines  of  Laurium,  and  the  harbour  and 
market  dues.  He  now  developed  his  plans  for  the  exten- 
sion of  the  naval  empire  of  Athens  in  the  JEgenn.  The 
island  of  Naxos  was  conquered  by  him,  and  handed  over 
to  Lygdamis,  a  native  of  the  island,  who  had  zealously 
supported  the  restoration  of  Pisistratus  with  men  and 
money.  In  Naxos  Pisistratus  deposited  the  hostages 
he  exacted  from  those  of  his  enemies  who  chose  to  re- 
main at  Athens.  In  Sigcum  on  the  Hellespont,  which 
he  conquered  from  the  Mytilenians,  he  established  as 
tyrant  Hegesistratus,  his  son  by  an  Argive  wife,  whom  ho 
had  married  in  his  second  exile.  The  European  side  of 
the  Hellespont  was  already  in  Athenian  hands,  Miltiades 
having  established  an  Athenian  colony  on  the  Thracian 
Chersonese  during  the  first  tyranny,  and  with  the  consent 
of  Pisistratus.  Athens  thus  commanded  the  straits 
through  which  passed  the  corn  trade  of  the  Black  Sea. 
Pisistratus  further  raised  the  reputation  of  Athens  by 
purifying  the  sacred  island  of  Delos ;  all  the  graves  within 
sight  of  the  teriiple  of  Apollo  were  opened  and  the  dead 
removed  to  another  part  of  the  island.  His  rule  was  as 
wise  and  beneficent  at  home  as  it  was  glorious  abroad. 
He  encouraged  agriculture  by  lending  the  poorer  peasants 
cattle  and  seed,  and  he  paid  special  attention  to  the  culti- 
vation of  the  olive.  He  enacted  or  enforced  a  law  against 
idleness,  and  he  required  that  the  state  should  maintain 
its  disabled  soldiers.  Under  his  rule  and  that  of  his  sons 
Attica  was  intersected  by  high  roads,  which,  converging  to 
the  capital,  helped  to  unite  the  country  and  thus  to  abolish 

*  Out  of  tlie  thirty-threo  years  which  elapsed  between  Piaistratus'a 
first  usurpation  and  his  death  in  .127  B.C.,  we  know  (from  Aristotle, 
PoL,  V.  p.  1315  b)  that  lio  reigned  Qw,vng  seventeen.  Ho  was  twice  de- 
posed and  banished,  and  his  second' exile  lasted  between  ten  and  eleven 
years  (Herod. ,  i.  62) ;  hence  his  lirst  must  have  lasted  between  five  and 
•ix.  But  we  cannot  fix  with  certainty  the'datcs  of  thee  two  exiles. 
Dunckof  (with  whom  riLiiton,  Fasli  J/cllenici,  ii.  p.  254,  and  Stein 
on  Herod.,  i.  64,  ne.irly  agree)  places  the  first  in  555-550,  and  the 
ucond  ia  549-538  (see  his  Ocsch.  d.  AUcrthums,  vi.  p.  454  aj.) 


local  feuds  and  factions.  To  the  tyrants  Athens  furlh'  >• 
owed  those  subterranean  channels  in  the  rock  which  st.' 
supply  i^  with  drinking  water  from  the  hills  Pisistratus 
also  adorned  Athens  with  splendid  public  buildings.  The 
temple  of  the  Pythian  Apollo  was  his  work ;  and  he 
began,  but  did  not  finish,  the  great  temple  of  Zeus,  the 
remaining  columns  of  which  still  astonish  the  beholder. 
Modern  authorities^  further  ascribe  to  him  the  old 
Parthenon  on  the  Acropolis,  which  was  afterwards  burned 
by  the  Persians  and  replaced  by  the  Parthenon  of  Pericles. 
The  Lyceum  was  attributed  to  him  by  Thcopompus,  but 
to  Pericles  by  the  better  authority  of  Philochorus.  He 
caused  the  Panathenaic  festival  to  be  celebrated  everj 
fourth  year  with  unusual  magnificence. 

The  well-known  story  that  Pisistratus  wa3  the  first  tc 
collect  and  publish  the  poems  of  Homer  in  their  present 
form  rests  on  the  authority  of  late  writers  (Cicero  being 
the  earliest),  and  seems  to  be  sufficiently  disproved  by  the 
silence  of  all  earlier  authorities  (see  Homer).  The  state- 
ment of  Aulus  Gellius  that  Pisistratus  was  the  first  to 
establish  a  public  library  at  Athens  is  perhaps  equally  void 
of  foundation.  The  tyrant  seems  to  have  been  merciful 
and  amiable  to  the  last.  It  is  not  recorded  of  him  that  he 
ever  put  an  enemy  to  death,  and  the  easy  good  humour 
with  which  he  submitted  to  affronts  offered  to  himself  and 
his  family  reminds  us  of  C»sar.  Solon's  description  of  him 
appears  to  have  been  justified — that  apart  from  his  ambi- 
tion there  was  not  a  better-disposed  man  at  Athens  than 
Pisistratus.  He  died  at  an  advanced  age  in  527,  and 
was  succeeded  by  his  sons  Hippias  and  Hipparchus  (the 
Pisistratids),  who  continued  to  rule  Athens  in  the  same 
moderate  and  beneficent  spirit.  (j.  g.  fr.) 

PISTACHIO  NUT,  see  Nut,  vol.  xvii.  p.  665.  The 
pistachio  nut  is  the  species  named  in  Gen.  xliii.  11  (Heb. 
O'^P?,  Ar.  bofm)  as  forming  part  of  the  present  which 
Joseph's  brethren  took  with  them  from  Canaan,  and  in 
Egypt  it  is  still  often  placed  along  with  s.weetmeats  and 
the  like  in  presents  of  courtesy.  The  nut  is  used  in 
various  ways ;  but  the  simplest  plan  is  to  boil  it  with  salt. 

PISTOIA,  or  PisTOJA,  a  well-walled  ancient  city,  21 
miles  north-west  of  Florence,  on  a  slight  eminence  near 
the  Ombrone,  one  of  the  tributaries  of  the  Arno;  it  now 
contains  about  12,500  inhabitants.  The  chief  manufac- 
ture of  the  place  is  iron-working,  especially  fire-arms.' 
It  is  on  the  site  of  the  Roman  Pisioria,  of  which  little 
trace  remains.  During  the  Middle  Ages  Pistoia  was  at 
times  a  dangerous  enemy  to  Florence,  and  the  scene  of 
constant  conflicts  between  the  Guelfa  and  the  Ghibellines  : 
it  was  there  that,  in  the  year  1300,  the  great  party 
struggle  took  place  which  resulted  in  the  creation  of 
the  IJianchi  and  Neri  factions  (see  Danto,  Infer.,  xxiv., 
1.  '121  to  end).  In  the  early  development  of  architec- 
ture and  sculpture  Pistoia  played  a  very  important  part ; 
these  arts,  as  they  existed  in  Tuscany  before  the  time  of 
Niccola  Pisano,  can  perhaps  bo  better  studied  in  Pistoia 
than  anywhere  else ;  nor  is  the  city  less  rich  in  the  later 
works  produced  by  the  school  of  sculptors  founded  by 
Niccola.  In  the  14th  century  Pistoia  possessed  a  number 
of  the  most  skilful  artists  in  silver  work,  a  wonderful 
specimen  of  whoso  powers  exists  now  in  the-  cathedral, — 
the  great  silver  altar  and  frontal  of  St  Jnmcs,  originally 
made  for  the  high  nltnr,  but  now  placed  in  a  chnpcl  on  the 
south  side  (see  5Ietal  Work,  vol.  xvi.  p.oC5,  fig.  4).  The 
cathedral  is  partly  of  the  12th  century,  but  rebuilt  by  one 
of  the  Pisani,  and  in.iido  .sadly  modernized  in  the  worst 

'  Ciirtius  and  Duncker  In  their  hlalorioi  at  Greece  ;  >ea  alio 
Wachsniuth,  Die  Stadt  A  then  im  AUrrlhum,  vol.  I.  p.  602.- 

'  The  word  "pistol"  1«  derived  (appaicntly  through  pistolesr,  x 
dagger, — dagger  and  pistol  being  both  snuill  arms)  from  riitoia,  wkcr* 
that  wcopoD  was  largely  inanufacturod  iu  Iko  Middle  Ages. 


132 


P  I  T  — P  1  T 


taste.  Besides  the  silver  altar  it  contains  many  fine  works 
of  sculpture;' the  chief  are  the  monument  of  Cino  da 
Pistoia,  lawyer  and  poet,  Dante's, contemporary  (1337), 
and  Verrocchio's  finest  work  in  marble,  the  monument 
to  Cardinal  Forteguerra  (1474),  with  a  large  figure  of 
Christ,  surrounded  by  angels,  in  high  relief.  Unhappily 
two  of  the  principal  figures  were  destroyed  not  many  years 
ago,  and  replaced  by  worthless  modern  ones.^  Among  the 
very  early  churches  the  principal  is  Sant'  Andrea,  enriched 
with  sculpture,  and  probably  designed,  by  Gruamons  and 
his  brother  Adeodatus,  in  1136;  in  the  nave  is  Giovanni 
Pisano's  magnificent  pulpit,  imitated  from  his  father's 
pulpit  at  Pisa.  Other  churches  of  almost  equal  interest 
are  S.  Giovanni  Evangelista,  also  with  sculpture  by 
Gruamons,  about  1160,  and  S.  Baitolomeo  iu  Pantano  by 
the  architect  Rudolfinus,  1 1 07.  S.  Piero  Maggiore  and  San 
Paolo  are  also  churches  begun  in  the  12th  century.  San 
Francesco  al  Prato  is  a  fine  church  of  the  school  of 
Niccola  Pisano,  end  of  the  13th  century.  San  Domenico, 
a  noble  church  built  about  1380,  contains  the  beautiful 
tomb  of  Filippo  Lazari  by  Bernardo  di  Jlatteo,  1464.  In 
addition  to  its  fine  churches,  of  which  the  above  is  a  very 
incomplete  list,  Pistoia  contains  many  noble  palaces  and 
public  buildings.  The  Palazzo  del  Commune  and  the 
Palazzo  Pretorio,  once  the  residence  of  the  podesta,  are 
both  fine  specimens  of  14th-century  domestic  architecture, 
in  very  good  preservation.  The  Ospedaie  del  Ceppo,  built 
originally  in  the  13th  century,  but  remodelled  in  the 
15th,  is  very  remarkable  for  the  reliefs  in  enamelled  and 
coloired  terra-cotta  with  which  its  e.xterior  is  richly 
decorated.  Besides  various  medallions,  there  is  a  frieze 
of  figures  in  high  relief  extending  along  the  whole  front, 
over  its  open  arcade.  The  reliefs  consist  of  a  series  of 
groups  representing  the  Seven  Works  of  Mercy  and  other 
figures ;  these  were  executed  by  the  younger  members  of 
the  Delia  Robbia  family  between  1525  and  1535,  and, 
though  not  equal  to  the  best  work  of  Luca  and  Andrea,  are 
yet  very  fine  in  conception  and  modelling,  and  extremely 
rich  in  their  general  decorative  effect. 

PITCAIRN,  or  Pitcairn's  Island,  an  island  of  the 
eastern  Pacific,  in  25°4'  N.  lat.  and  130°  8'W.  long.,  may 
be  considered  as  a  member  or  appendage  of  the  Paumotu, 
Tuamotu,  Low,  or  Dangerous  Archipelago,  but  is  nearly 
100  miles  south  of  Oeno.  It  is  not  more  than  3  miles 
long  from  east  to  west  and  about  2  miles  broad.  Unlike 
the  other  islatids  of  this  region  it  has  no  coral  reef,  but 
rises  abruptly  from  the  depths  with  steep  and  rugged 
clifEs  of  dark  basaltic  lava.  There  is  no  anchorage  except 
on  a  bank  at  the  west  end ;  and  even  the  best  of  its  three 
landing  places— Bounty  Bay  on  the  north  coast— is  danger- 
ous from  the  violence  of  the  surf  and  the  existence  of  a 
strong  undertow.  The  longer  axis  of  the  island  is  formed 
by  a  range  of  steep  hills,  attaining  in  Outlook  Ridge 
a  maximum  height  of  1008  feet.  On  a  plateau  about 
400  feet  above  the  sea  lies  the  village  of  Adamstown, 
with  its  fields  and  gardens.  The  climate  is  variable  and 
rainy,  and  show  sometimes  falls  on  the  mountains  ;  but, 
as  there  are  no  springs  or  streamlets,  drinking  water  is  apt 
to  grow  scarce  in  a  dry  season.  Vegetation  is  luxuriant. 
Neither  the  bread  fruit  nor  the  cocoa  nut,  introduced  by 
the  settlers,  are  fully  successful ;  but  the  sweet  potato, 
which  forms  their  staple  food,  banana,  yam,  taro,  pine- 
apple, &c.,  produce  abundantly.  Com  cannot  be  grown 
because  of  rats.  The  Pitcairn  Islanders  (not  more  than 
ninety  in  1878),  descended  mainly  from  the  mutineers  of 
the  "  Bounty  "  and  their  Tahitian  wives,  are  a  healthy,  virtu- 
ous, cheerful,  and  hospitable  people,  proud  of  their  English 

'  One  of  the  chief  treasures  of  the  S.  Kensington  Museum  is  the 
firiginal  sketch  in  clay  for  this  monument,  about  18  inches  high, — now 
the  only  record  of  the  original  design  of  the  two  chief  figures. 


♦blood,  and  grateful  for  the  services  rendered  them  from  time 
to  time  by  the  English  Government  and  private  liberality. 

Stone  axes,  remains  of  sculptured  stone  pillars  similar  to  thoso 
of  Rapanui  (Easter  Island),  and  skeletons  with  a  pearl-mussel 
beneath  their  head,  have  been  found  in  the  island,  and  show  that, 
though  it  was  uninhabited  when  discovered  by  Carteret  in  1767, 
it  had  previously  been  occupied.  Pitcairn  was  the  name  of  the 
midshipman  who  first  descried  it  from  the  mast-head.  On  28th 
April  1789  a  mutiny  broke  out  on  board  the  "  Bounty,"  then 
employed  by  the  English  Government  in  convoying  young  bread- 
fruit trees  from  Tahiti  to  the  West  Indies.  The  commanQer, 
Lieutenant  Bligh  (q.v.),  was  set  adrift  in  the  launch  with  a 
number  of  his  officers  and  crew,  but  managed  to  maive  his  way  to 
Kupang  in  Timor  (Dutch  Indies).  The  mutineers,  twenty-five  in 
number,  at  first  all  returned  to  Tahiti.  Of  those  who  chose  to  hi 
landed  on  that  island,  six  were  condemned  to  death  by  court-martiat 
in  England,  and  three  of  these  were  ultimately  executed  (1792), 
Two  yo^'.rs  earlier  (1790)  the  other  party  (consisting  of  Fletcher 
Christian,  the  leader  of  the  mutiny,  eight  other  Englishmen,  six 
Polynesian  men,  and  twelve  Polynesian  women)  had  taken  pos- 
session of  Pitcairn  and  burned  the  "  Bounty."  The  beautiful  island, 
which  niight  have  been  a  paradise,  was  soon  turned  into  a  little  hell 
Treachery,  di  jnkenness,  madness,  and  murder  fill  the  first  yeari 
of  its  annals.  By  1800  r.U  the  men  were  dead  except  Alexander 
Smith  (afterwards  known  as  John  Adams),  whose  endeavours  t>j 
train  up  the  youthful  generation  thus  left  in  his  sole  charge  weie 
crowned  with  success.  An  American  vessel,  the  "  Topaze,  under 
May  hew  Folger,  discovered  the  stran^'e  colony  in  1808,  and  again, 
by  accident,  it  was  visited  by  the  "  Briton,"  Captain  Sir  F.  Staines, 
and  the  "Tagus,"  Captain  Pipon,  in  1817.  On  the  death  of  John 
Adams,  29th  JIarch  1829,  George  Hunn  Kobbs,  who,  after  an 
adventurous  life  had  settled  at  Pitcairn  in  1828,  was  appointed 
pastor  and  chief  magistrate  c  f  the  settlement.  Through  fear  of 
drought  the  islanders,  now  numbering  87  persons,  removed  in  18S0 
to  Tahiti,  but  neither  the  climate  nor  the  morals  of  the  place  were 
such  as  they  approved,  and  in  1831  they  returned  to  their  lonely 
island.  Hardly  had  they  settled  into  their  old  ways  when  Joshua 
Hill,  a  sti<inge  adventurer,  rather  cracy  than  criminal,  appeared 
among  thern ;  claiming  to  be  under  Government  authority,  he 
tyrannized  over  them  till  his  removal  by  an  English  man-of-war  in 
1838.  Iu  18.'>6  the  whole  population  of  Pitcairn — 60  married  per- 
sons and  134  young  men,  women,  and  children — were  landed  on 
Norfolk  Island  {q.v.};  and  the  little  island  was  again  left  to  the 
occupancy  of  goats  and  cattle.  In  1858,  however,  two  men,  William 
and  Moses  Young,  chose  to  return  with  their  families  to  their  old 
homes,  and  their  exe.mple  was  afterwards  followed  by  a  few  others. 

See  ShilUbeer,  The  '*  Briton's"  Voyage  to  Pitcairn's  Island,  181S;  Beechey, 
Vouage  to  the  Pacific,  1831  ;  Sir  John  Barrow,  History  of  the  Mutiny  of  iht 
••  Dcunly,"  1831;  W.  Brodle.  Pitcairn's  Island,  1850;  T.  B.  Munay,  Pitcairn, 
1854  ;  Meinicke,  Die  Inset  Pitcairn,  1858,  and  Die  Inseln  des  Stillen  Oceans, 
vol.  U.,  1876  ;  and  Lady  Belcher,  The  Mutineers  of  the  "  Bounty,"  1870. 

PITCAIRNE,  Archibald  (1652-1713),  a  distinguished 
Scottish  physician,  born  at  Edinburgh  in  1652,  and  de- 
scended of  an  ancient  Fifeshire  family  which  barely  escape*! 
extinction  at  the  battle  of  Flodden, — the  proprietor  of 
the  estate  and  his  seven  sons  having  fallen  in  the  battle, 
and  the  succession  being  only  preserved  by  the  birth  of  a 
posthumous  child.  After  obtaining  some  classical  education 
at  the  school  of  Dalkeith,  Pitcairne  entered  Edinburgh 
university  in  1668,  and  took  his  degree  of  M.A.  in  1671. 
Like  some  men  of  great  general  ability,  he  seems  to  have 
remained  long  undetermined  as  to  his  future  profession, 
am"  before  taking  to  medicine  he  had  made  some  progress 
first  in  divinity  and  then  in  law.  But,  having  been  sent 
to  France  for  the  benefit  of  his  health,  he  was  induced  at 
Paris  to  begin  the  study  of  medicine.  On  his  return  to 
Scotland  he  applied  himself  for  a  time  and  with  great 
success  to  the  study  of  mathematics.  Having  at  last 
taken  vigorously  to  medicine,  first  at  Edinburgh  and  after- 
wards for  the  second  time  at  Paris,  he  obtained  in  1680 
his  degree  of  M.D.  from  the  faculty  at  Rheims.  On 
returning  to  Scotland  he  at  once  began  practice  at  Edin- 
burgh, and  in  a  short  time  acquired  •?.  great  and  wide 
reputation — so  much  so  that  in  1692  he  was  invited  to  fill 
a  professor's  chair  at  Leyden,  and  is  said  to  have  lectured 
there  with  great  applause.  Among  his  pupils  were  at  least 
two  men  who  afterwards  rose  to  great  eminence  in  their 
prof-^ssion.  Mead  and  Boerhaave,  and  both  of  them  are 
understood  to  have  attributed  much  of  their  skill  to  what 
they  had  learned  from  Pitcairne.     In  the  following  year 


P  I  T -P  I  T 


13^ 


fitcairne  returned  to  Scotland  to  fulfil  a  matrimonial 
sngagement  with  a  daughter  of  Sir  Archibald  Stevenson,  an 
eminent  physician  in  Edinburgh ;  and,  the  family  of  the 
young  lady  having  objected  to  their  daughter  going  abroad, 
Pitcairne  did  not  return  to  Leyden,  but  settled  once  more 
in  Edinburgh,  speedily  acquired  a  most  extensive  practice, 
rose  indeed  to  be  the  first  physician  of.  his  time  in  Scotland, 
and  was  frequently  called  in  as  consulting  physician  not 
only  in  England  but  even  in  Holland. 

Soon  aft^r  his  return  to  Edinburgh,  feeling  the  great 
Want  of  the  means  of  anatomical  study,  he  importuned 
the  town  council  to  permit  himself  and  certain  of  his 
medical  friends  to  dissect  the  bodies  of  paupers  in  "  Paul's 
Work  "  unclaimed  by  their  relations,  and  who  therefore  had 
hitherto  been  buried  at  the  town's  expense.  They  offered 
to  attend  them  gratis  when  ill,  and  after  dissection  to  bury 
them  at  their  own  charges.  Strangely  enough  this  pro- 
posal was  strongly  opposed  by  the  chief  surgeons  of  the 
place,  but  ultimately  the  town  council  had  the  good  sense 
to  comply  with  Pitcairne's  request,  and  in  this  way  he  may 
be  said  to  have  the  credit  of  laying  the  foundation  of  the 
great  Edinburgh  school  of  medicine. 

Though,  according  to  Boerhaave,  Pitcairne  had  not  com- 
pletely emancipated  himself  from  some  of  the  fanciful 
theories  prevalent  in  his  age  in  the  science  of  medicine,  yet 
the  main  characteristic  of  his  superiority  appears  to  have 
been  that,  like  Sydenham  and  the  higher  class  of  physicians 
ID  England  at  that  time,  he'  insisted  on  strict  adherence 
to  the  Bnconian  method  of  attending  chiefly  to  facts  of 
experience  and  observation.  "  Nothing,"  he  remarks, 
"  more  hinders  physic  from  being  improved  than  the 
curiosity  of  searching  into,  the  natural  causes  of  the  effects 
of  medicines.  The  business  of  men  is  to  know  the  virtues 
of  medicines,  but  to. inquire  whence  they  have  that  power 
is  -a  superfluous  amusement,  since  nature  lies  concealed. 
A  physician  ought  therefore  to  apply  himself  to  discover 
by  experience  the  effects  of  medicines  and  diseases,  and 
reduce  his  observations  into  maxims,  and  not  needlessly 
fatigue  himself  by  inquiring  into  their  causes,  which  are 
neither  possible  nor  necessary  to  be  known.  If  all 
physicians  would  act  thus  we  should  not  see  physic  divided 
into,  so  many  sects." 

Pitcairne's  medical  opinions  are  chiefly  contained  in  a 
volume  of  Dissertations  which  he  published  in  1701 
(second  and  improved  edition,  1713).  In  these  he  dis- 
cusses the  application  of  geometry  to  physic,  the  circula- 
tion of  the  blood  in  the  smaller  vessels,  the  difference  in 
the  quantity  of  the  blood  contained  in  the  lungs  of  animals 
in  the  womb  a^nd  of  the  same  animals  after  birth,  the 
motiofis  by  which  food  becomes  fit  to  supply  the  blood, 
the  question  as  to  inventors  in  medicine  (in  which  ho 
repels  the  idea  of  certain  medical  discoveries  of  modern 
times  having  been  known  to  the  ancients,  especially 
vindicating  for  Harvey  the  discovery  of  the  circulation  of 
the  blood,  and  refuting  the  opinion  of  Dacier  and  others 
that  it  was  known  to  Hippocrates),  the  cure  of  fevers  by 
evacuating  medicines,  and  the  effects  of  acids  and  alkalis 
in  medicine. 

In  addition  to  his  great  knowledge  and  skill  as  a 
physician,  Pitcairne  is  understood  to  have  been  also  an 
accomplished  mathematician.  He  was  intimate  with  the 
two  Oregorj's,  and  is  said  to  have  made  some  improvement 
on  the  method  of  infinite  series  invented  by  David  Gregory. 
His  strong  addiction  to  mathematics  seems  to  have  misled 
him,  along  with  some  other  eminent  men  of  his  time,  into 
the  idea  of  applying  its  methods  of  reasoning  to  subjects 
for  which  they  are  quite  unfitted  :  in  Pitcairne's  case  the 
attempt  is  made  in  one  of  his  papers  to  adapt  them  to 
medicine.^ 

Be  was  also  a  very  tboreugU  classical  scholar,  and  wrote 


Latin  verses,  occasionally  with  something  more  than  mere 
imitative  cleverness  and  skill.  Some  verses  of  his  on 
the  death  of  Lord  Dundee  were  translated  by  Dryden, 
and,  as  one  of  the  latest  editors  of  Drjden's  poetry  with 
perfect  justice  remarks,  "  the  translation  will  not  be 
thought  so  happy  as  the  original." 

According  to  the  representations  which  are  left  by  his 
contemporaries  of  his  personal  bearing  and  character,  ho 
seems  to  have  carried  his  great  faculties  very  lightly.  A 
strong  man  all  round,  with  great  animal  spirits  and  jovial 
habits,  somewhat  contemptuous  of  the  gravities  and 
feeblosities  around  him,  a  loudly  avowed  Jacobite  and 
Episcopalian,  rather  reckless  in  his  jests  and  sarcasms,  and 
spending  a  good  deal  of  his  time  in  clubs,  public  houses, 
and  drinking  jollities,  he  was  evidently  regarded  with  little 
favour  and  some  suspicion  by  'the  sober  and  decent 
Presbyterian  circles  of  Edinburgh.  "  Drunk  twice  a  day," 
according  to  the  worthy,  credulous,  gossiping  Wodrow 
(in  one  of  his  notebooks);  "an  unbeliever,"  "much  given 
to  profane  jests,"  an  "atheist,"  according  to  others. 
These  reports  may  be  taken  for  what  they  are  worth,' 
which  perhaps  is  not  very  much.  What  is  certain  is  that 
he  was  repeatedly  involved  in  violent  quarrels  with  hia 
medical  brethren  and  others,  and  once  or  twice  got  into 
scrapes-with  the  Government  on  account  of  his  indiscreet 
political  utterances.  Among  his  friends,  however,  he  was 
evidently  well  liked,  and  he  is  known  to  have  acted  with 
great  kindness  and  generosity  to  deserving  men  who  needed 
his  help.  Ruddiman,'  the  great  Scottish  scholar,  for 
example,  was  rescued  from  a  life  of  obscurity  by  his 
encouragement  and  assistance,  and  by  no  one  was  his 
memory  more  gratefully  cherished. 

" — Vale,  lux  Scoti"enum,.pnncepsque  McdentUDi, 
Musarum  columen  delioisequc,  vale !  " 

are  the  concluding  lines  of  a  Latin  epitaph  by  him  on 
his  venerated  patron  and  frien-d,  which  still  remains  on 
Pitcairne's  monument  in  the  Greyfriars  churchyard.  Mead 
too,  appears  never  to  have  forgotten  what  he  owed  to 
his  old  teacher  at  Leyden.  A  son  of  Pitcairne's  had 
gone  out  in  the  rebellion  of  1715,  and,  having  been  con- 
demned to  death  was  saved  by  the  earnest  interposition 
of  Mead  with  Sir  Robert  Walpole.  He  pleaded,  very  art- 
fully, that  if  Walpole's  health  had  been  bettered  by  hia 
skill,  or  if  members  of  the  royal  family  were  preserved 
by  his  care,  it  was  owing  to  the  instruction  he  had 
received  from  Dr  Pitcairne.  Pitcairne  died  in  October 
1713.  Among  his  other  scholarly  tastes  he  had  been  a 
great  collector  of  books,  and  his  library,  which  is  under- 
stood to  have  lu?en  of  considerable  value,  was,  through  the 
influence  of  Ruddiman,  disposed  of  to  Peter  the  Great  of 
Russia. 

PITCH.     See  Tar. 

PITCHER  PLANTS.  See  iNSECxrvoEOUS  PuiUTs. 
vol.  xiii.  pp.  138,  139. 

PITHOM,  a  city  of  Egypt,  mentioned  in  Exod.  i.  11. 
filong  with  Rameses  (q.v.). 

PITHOU,  Pierre  (1539-1596),  lawyer  and  scholar,  W8« 
born  at  Troyes  on  November  1, 1539.  His  taste  for  litera- 
ture was  early  seen,  and  his  father,  ah  advocate,  cultivated 
it  to  the  utmost.  Ho  first  studied  at  Troyes,  and  afterwards 
went  to  Pari.s,  where  ho  completed  his  classical  studies 
under  Adrien  Turn&bo  and  Pierre  Galand.  He  ncxti 
attended  the  lectures  in  law  of  Ciyas  at  Bourgcs  and 
Valence,  and  was  called  to  the  Paris  bar  in  1560.  Her« 
he  achieved  but  little  success  as  a  pleader,  but  soon  acquired 
a  'considerable  practice  as  a  con.sulting  lawyer.  On  the  out- 
break of  the  second  war  of  religion  in  1067,  Pithou,  \»ho 
'  was  a  Calvinist,  withdrew  to  Sedan  and  afterwards  to  Basel, 
whence  ho  returned  to  Franco  on  tho  publication  of  th» 
edict  of  pacification.     Soon  afterwards  he  accompanied  thd 


134 


P  I  T  — P  I  T 


Due  de  Montmorency  on  his  embassy  to  England,  return- 
ing shortly  before  the  massacre  of  St  Bartholomew,  in 
which  he  narrowlj'  escaped  with  his  life.  Next  year  he 
followed  the  example  of  Henry  of  Navarre,  to  whose  cause 
he  was  ardently  attached,  by  abjuring  the  Protestant  faith. 
Henry,  shortly  after  his  own  accession  to  the  throne  of 
France,  recognized  Pithou's  talents  and  services  by  bestow- 
ing upon  him  various  legal  appointments.  It  was  con- 
siderably after  this  date  that  Pithou  achieved  what  was 
probably  the  most  important  work  of  his  life,  whether 
political  or  literary,  by  co-operating  in  the  production  of  the 
powerful  Satire  Menippee  (1593),  which  did  so  much  to 
damage  the  cause  of  the  League ;  the  harangue  of  Daubray 
is  usually  attributed  to  his  pen.  He  died  at  Nogent-sur- 
Seine  on  November  1, 1596.  His  valuable  library,  specially 
rich  in  MSS.,  was  for  the  most  part  transferred  to  what  is 
now  the  Bibliothfeque  Nationale  in  Paris. 

Pithou  wrote  a  great  number  of  legal  and  historical  books, 
besides  preparing  editions  of  several  ancient  authors.  -  His  earliest 
publication  was  Advcrsariorum  Suisecivorum  Lib.  II.  (1565),  which 
was  highly  praised  by  Turn^be,  Lipsins,  and  others.  Perhaps  his 
edition  of  tne  Leges  Visigothorum  (1579)  was  his  most  valuable 
contribution  to  historical  science ;  in  the  same  line  he  edited  the 
Capitula  of  Charlemagne,  Louis  the  Pious,  and  Charles  the  Bald 
in  1588,  and  he  also  assisted  his  brother  Francois  in  preparing  an 
edition  of  the  Corpus  Juris  Canonici  (1687).  His  essay  On  the  Oal- 
liccm  Liberties  (1594)  is  reprinted  in  his  Opera  sacra  juridica 
historica  miscellanea  collecta  (1609).  In  classical  literature  he  was 
the  first  who  made  the  world  acquainted  with  the  Fables  of 
Phaidrus  (1596)  ;  he  also  edited  the  Pervigilium  Veneris  (1587), 
and  Juvenal  and  Persius  (1585). 

PITT,  William,  FntST  Earl  of  Chatham.  See 
Chatham. 
Bom  at  PITT,  William  (1759-1806),  the  second  son  of 
Hayes,  William  Pitt,  earl  of  Chatham,  and  of  Lady  Hester 
B^romley  GCeuviUe,  daughter  of  Hester,  Countess  Temple,  was 
itont,  '  bori  on  the  28th  of  May  1759.  The  child  inherited 
May  28,  a  name  which,  at  the  time  of  his  birth,  was  the  most 
1759.  illustrious  in  the  civilized  world,  and  was  pronounced 
by  every  Englishman  with  pride,  and  by  every  enemy  of 
England  with  mingled  admiration  and  terror.  During 
the  first  year  of  his  life  every  month  had  its  illumina- 
tions and  bonfires,  and  every  wind  brought  some  mes- 
senger charged  with  'joyful  tidings  and  hostile  standards. 
In  Westphalia  the  English  infantry  won  a  great  battle 
which  arrested  the  armies  of  Louis  XV.  in  the  midst  of  a 
career  of  conquest ;  Boscawen  defeated  one  French  fleet  on 
the  coast  of  Portugal ;  Hawke  put  to  flight  another  in  the 
Bay  of  Biscay ;  Johnson  took  Niagara ;  Amherst  took 
Ticonderoga ;  Wolfe  died  by  the  most  enviable  of  deaths 
under  the  walls  of  Quebec  ;  Clive  destroyed  a  Dutch  arma- 
ment in  the  Hooghly,  and  established  the  English  supre- 
taacy  in  Bengal ;  Coote  routed  Lally  at  Wandewash,  and 
established  the  English  supremacy  in  the  Carnatic.  The 
nation,  while  loudly  applauding  the  successful  warriors, 
considered  them  all,  on  sea  and  on  land,  in  Europe,  in 
America,  and  in  Asia,  merely  as  instruments  which  received 
their  direction  from  one  superior  mind.  It  was  the  great 
William  Pitt,  the  great  commoner,  who  had  vanquished  the 
French  marshals  in  Germany  and  French  admirals  on  the 
Atlantic, — who  had  conquered  for  his  country  one  great 
empire  on  the  frozen  shores  of  Ontario  and  another  under 
the  tropical  sun  near  the  mouths  of  the  Ganges.  It  was 
not  in  the  nature  of  things  that  popularity  such  as  he  at 
this  time  enjoyed  should  be  permanent  That  popularity 
had  lost  its  gloss  before  his  children  were  old  enough  to 
understand  that  their  father  was  a  great  man.  He  was  at 
length  placed  in  situations  in  which  neither  his  talents  for 
administration  nor  his  talents  for  debate  appeared  to  the 
best  advantage.  The  energy  and  decision  which  had 
eminently  fitted  him  for  the  direction  of  war  were  not 
beeded  in  time  of  peace.     The  lofty  and  spirit-stirring 


eloquence  which  had  mad-e  him  supreme  in  the  Houbm 
of  Commons  often  fell  dead  on  the  House  of  Lords.  A 
cruel  malady  racked  his  joints,  and  left  his  joints  only  to 
fall  on  his  nerves  and  on  his  brain.  During  the  closing 
years  of  his  life  he  was  odious  to  the  court,  and  yet  was 
not  on  cordial  terms  with  the  great  body  of  the  Opposition. 
Chatham  was  only  the  rain  of  Pitt,  but  an  awful  and 
majestic  ruin,  not  to  be  contemplated  by  any  man  of  sense 
and  feeling  without  emotions  resembling  those  which  are 
excited  by  the  remains  of  the  Parthenon  and  of  the  Colos- 
seum. In  one  respect  the  old  statesman  was  eminently 
happy.  Whatever  might  be  the  vicissitudes  of  his  public 
life,  he  never  failed  to  find  peace  and  love  by  his  own 
hearth.  He  loved  all  his  children,  and  was  loved  by  them  ; 
and  of  all  his  children  the  one  of  whom  he  was  fondest 
and  proudest  was  his  second  son. 

The  child's  genius  and  ambition  displayed  themselves  ChiW. 
with  a  rare  and  almost  unnatural  precocity.  At  seven  the  hood 
interest  which  he  took  in  grave  subjects,  the  ardour  with 
which  he  pursued  his  studies,  and  the  sense  and  vivacity 
of  his  remarks  cm  books  and  on  events  amazed  his  parents 
and  instructors.  One  of  his  sayings  of  this  date  was 
reported  to  his  mother  by  his  tutor.  In  August  1766, 
when  the  world  was  agitated  by  the  news  that  Mr  Pitt  had 
become  earl  of  Chatham,  little  William  exclaimed,  "  I  am 
glad  that  I  am  not  the  eldest  son.  I  want  to  speak  in  the 
House  of  Commons  like  papa."  A  letter  is  extant  in  which 
Lady  Chatham,  a  woman  of  considerable  abilities,  remarked 
to  her  lord  that  their  younger  son  at  twelve  had  left  far 
behind  him  his  elder  brother,  who  was  fifteen.  "  The  fine- 
ness," she  wrote,  "  of  William'^mind  makes  him  enjoy  with 
the  greatest  pleasure  what  would  be  above  the  reach  of  any 
other  creature  of  his  small  age."  At  fourteen  the  lad  was 
in  intellect  a  man.  Hayley,  who  "net  him  at  Lyme  in  the 
summer  of  1773,  was  astonished,  delighted,  and  somewhat 
overawed,  by  hearing  wit  and  wisdom  from  so  young  a 
mouth.  The  poet,  indeed,  was  afterwards  sorry  that  his 
shyness  had  prevented  him  from  submitting  the  plan  of  an 
extensive  Hterary  work,  which  he  was  then  meditating,  to 
the  judgment  of  this  extraordinary  boy.  The  boy,  indeed, 
had  already  written  a  tragedy,  bad,  of  course,  but  not  worse 
than  the  tragedies  of  his  friend.  This  piece  is  still  pre- 
served at  Chevening,  and  is  in  some  respects  highly  curi- 
ous. There  is  no  love.  The  whole  plot  is  political ;  and 
it  is  remarkable  that  the  interest,  such  as  it  is,  turns  on  a 
contest  about  a  regency.  On  one  side  is  a  faithful  servant 
of  the  crown,  on  the  other  an  ambitious  and  unprincipled 
conspirator.  At  length  the  king,  who  had  been  missing, 
reappears,  resumes  his  power,  and  rewards  the  faithful 
defender  of  his  rights.  A  reader  who  should  judge  only 
by  internal  evidence  would  have  no  hesitation  in  pronoun- 
cing that  the  play  was  written  by  some  Pittite  poetaster  at 
the  time  of  the  rejoicings  for  the  recovery  of  George  III. 
in  1789. 

The  pleasure  with  which  William's  parents  observed  the! 
rapid  development  of  his  intellectual  powers  was  alloyed  by 
apprehensions  about  his  health.  He  shot  up  alarmingly 
fast ;  he  was  often  ill,  and  always  weak ;  and  it  was  feared 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  rear  a  stripling  so  tall,  so 
slender,  and  so  feeble.  Port  wine  was  prescribed  by  his 
medical  advisers ;  and  it  is  said  that  he  was,  at  fourteen, 
accustomed  to  take  this  agreeable  physic  in  quantities 
which  would,  in  our  abstemious  age,  be  thought  much  more 
than  sufficient  for  any  full-grown  man.  This  regimen, 
though  it  would  probably  have  killed  ninety-nine  boys  out 
of  a  hundred,  seems  to  have  been  Well  suited  to  the  peculi- 
,arities  of  William's  constitution ;  for  at  fifteen  hs  ceased  to 
be  molested  by  disease,  and,  though  never  a  strong  man, 
continued,  during  many  years  of  labour  and  anxiety,  ofi 
nights  passed  in  debate  and  of  summers  pas'^d  in  London' 


PITT 


135 


foXyd  &  tolerably  healthy  one.    It  was  probably  on  account 
of  the  delicacy  of  his  frame  that  he  was  not  educated  like 
other  boys  of  the   same  rank.     Almost  all   the  eminent 
English  statesmen  and  orators  to  whom  he  was  afterwards 
opposed  or  allied — North,  Fox,  Shelburne,  Windham,  Grey, 
Wellesley,  Grenville,  Sheridan,  Canning — went  through  the 
training  of  great  public  schools.     Lord  Chatham  had  him- 
self been  a  distinguished  Etonian ;  and  it  is  seldom  that  a 
distinguished  Etonian  forgets  his  obligations  to  Eton.    But 
(William's  infirmities  required  a  vigilance  and  tenderness 
JBUch  as  could  be  found  only  at  home.     He  was  therefore 
Tared  under  the  paternal  roof.     His  studies  were  superin- 
tended by  a  clergyman  named  Wilson ;  and  those  studies, 
though  often  interrupted  by  illness,  were  prosecuted  with 
extraordinary  success.     Before  the  lad  had  completed  his 
fifteenth  year  his  knowledge  both  of  the  ancient  languages 
and  of  mathematics  was  such  as  very  few  men  of  eighteen 
ti  then  carried  up  to  college.     He  was  therefore  sent,  towards 
in-  the  close  of  the  year  1773,  to  Pembroke  Hall,  in  the  uni- 
versity of  Cambridge.     So  young  a  student  required  much 
more  than  the  ordinary  care  which  a  college  tutor  bestows 
e     on  undergraduates.     The  governor  to  whom  the  direction 
J     of  William's  academical  life  was  confided  was  a  bachelor 
of  arts  named  Pretyman,i  who  had  been  senior  wrangler  in 
the  preceding  year,  and  who,  though  not  a  man  of  prepos- 
sessing appearance  or  brilliant  parts,  was  eminently  acute 
and  laborious,  a  sound  scholar,  and  an  excellent  geometri- 
cian.     At  Cambridge  Pretyman  was,  during  more  than 
two  years,  the  inseparable  companion,  and  indeed  almost 
the  only  companion,  of  his  pupil.     A  close   and  lasting 
friendship  sprang  up  between  the  pair.     The  disciple  was 
able,  before  he  completed  his  twenty-eighth  year,  to  make 
his  preceptor  bishop  of  Lincoln  and  dean  of  St  Paul's  ;  and 
the  preceptor  showed  his  gratitude  by  writing  a  life  of 
the  disciple,  which  enjoys  the  distinction  of  being  the  worst 
biographical  work  of  its  size  in  the  world. 

Pitt,  till  he  graduated,  had  scarcely  one  acquaintance, 
attended   chapel  regularly  morning  and   evening,    dined 
every  day  in  hall,  and  never  went  to  a  single  evening  party. 
At  seventeen  he  was  admitted,  after  the  bad  fashion  of 
iigof  those  times,  by  right  of  birth,  without  any  examination,  to 
'■      the  degree  of  master  of  arts.     But  he  continued  during 
some  years   to  reside   at   college, 'and  to   apply  himself 
vigorously,  under  Pretyman's  direction,  to  the  studies  of 
the  place,  while  mixing  freely  in  the  best  academic  society. 
The  stock  of -learning  which  Pitt  laid  in  during  this  part 
«nt   of  his  life  was  certainly  very  extraordinary.     In  fact,  it  was 
'**    all  that  he  ever  possessed ;  for  he  very  early  became  too 
„     busy  to  have  any  spare  time  for  books.     The  work  in  whish 
he  took  the  greatest  delight  was  Newton's  Frincipia.    His 
liking  for  mathematics,  indeed,  amounted  to  a  passion, 
which,  in  the  opinion  of  his  instructors,  themselves  distin- 
guished mathematicians,  required  to  be  checked  rather  than 
encouraged.     The  aciiteness  and  readiness  with  which  he 
solved  problems  was  pronounced  by  one  of  the  ablest  of 
the  moderators,  who  in  those  days  presided  over  the  dis- 
putations in  the  schools  and  conducted  the  examinations  of 
the  senate  house,  to  bo  unrivalled  in  the  university.     Nor 
was  the  youth's  proficiency  in  classical  learning  less  remark- 
able.    In  one  respect,  indeed,  he  appeared  to  disadvantage 
when  compared  with  even  second-rate  and  third-rate  men 
from  public  schools.     Ho  had  never,  while  under  Wilson's 
care,  been  in  the  habit  of  composing  in  the  ancient  lan- 
guages ;  and  he  therefore  never  acquired   that  knack  of 

['  Oeorgo  Pretyman  (17S0-1827)  was  senior  wrangler  in  1772.  In 
1803,  on  faUing  hoir  to  a  largo  estato,  bo  assumod  the  namo  of 
Tomlino.  From  Lincoln,  to  which  eeo  ho  had  been  olevatod  in  1787, 
he  was  translated  to  Winch»st«r  in,  1820.  Totnline,  to  whom  Pitt 
when  dyin^;  had  bequeathed  his  papers,  pnbliahod  hie  Memoiri  of  the 
Life  of  William  Pitt  (down  to  the  cloeo  of  1792)  in  1821  (8  vols.  8»o).] 


versification  which  is  sometimes  possessed  by  clever-  boys 
whose  knowledge  of  the  language  and  literature  of  Greece 
and  Rome  is  very  superficial.  It  would  have  been  utterly 
out  of  his  power  to  produce  such  charming  elegiac  lines  as 
those  in  which  Wellesley  bade  farewell  to  Eton,  or  such 
Virgilian  hexameters  as  those  in  which  Canning  described 
the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca.  But  it  may  be  doubted  whether 
any  scholar  has  ever,  at  twenty,  had  a  more  solid  and  pro- 
found knowledge  of  the  two  great  tongues  of  the  old 
civilized  world.  The  facility  w^ith  which  he  penetrated  the 
meaning  of  the  most  intricate  sentences  in  the  Attic  writers 
astonished  veteran  critics.  He  had  set  his  heart  on  being 
intimately  acquainted  with  all  the  extant  poetry  of  Greece, 
and  was  not  satisfied  till  he  had  mastered  Lycophron's 
Cassandra,  the  most  obscure  work  in  the  whole  range  of 
ancient  literature.  This  strange  rhapsody,  the  difficulties 
of  which  have  perplexed  and  repelled  many  excellent 
scholars,  "  he  read,"  says  his  preceptor,  "  with  an  ease  at 
first  sight  which,  if  I  had  not  witnessed  it,  I  should  have 
thought  btyond  the  compass  of  human  intellect." 

To  modern  literature  Pitt  paid  comparatively  little  atten- 
tion. Ho  knew  no  living  language  except  French ;  and 
French  he  knew  very  imperfectly.  With  a  few  of  the 
best  English  writers  he  was  intimate,  particularly  with 
Shakspeare  and  Milton.  The  debate  in  Pandemonium  was, 
as  it  well  deserved  to  be,  one  of  his  favourite  passages  ;  and 
his  early  friends  used  to  talk,  long  after  his  death,  of  the 
just  emphasis  and  the  melodious  cadence  with  which  Ihey 
had  heard  him  recite  the  incomparable  speech  of  Belial. 
He  had  indeed  been  carefully  trained  from  infancy  in  the 
art  of  managing  his  voice,  a  voice  naturally  clear  and  deep- 
toned.  His  father,  whose  oratory  owed  no  small  part  of  its 
effect  to  that  art,  had  been  a  most  skilful  and  judicious 
instructor.  At  a  later  period  the  wits  of  Brookes's,  irri- 
tated by  observing,  night  after  night,  how  powerfully  Pitt's 
sonorous  elocution  fascinated  the  rows  of  country  gentle- 
men, reproached  him  with  having  been  "  taught  by  his  dad 
on  a  stool." 

His  education,  indeed,  was  well  adapted  to  form  a  great 
parliamentary  speaker.  One  argument  often  urged  against 
those  ckssical  studies  which  occupy  so  largo  a  part  of  the 
early  life  of  every  gentleman  bred  in  the  south  of  our  island 
is,  that  they  prevent  him  from  acquiring  a  command  of  his 
mother  tongue,  and  that  it  is  not  unusual  to  meet  with  a 
youth  of  excellent  parts,  who  writes  Ciceronian  Latin  prose 
and  Horatian  Latin  alcaics,  but  who  would  find  it  impos- 
sible to  express  his  thoughts  in  pure,  perspicuous,  and 
forcible  English.  There  may  perhaps  be  some  tiutli  in 
this  observation.  But  tho  classical  studies  of  Pitt  were 
carried  on  in  a  peculiar  manner,  and  had  tho  eftect  of 
enriching  his  English  vocabulary,  and  of  making  him 
wonderfully  expert  in  the  art  of  constructing  correct  Eng- 
lish sentences.  His  practice  was  to  look  over  a  page  or 
two  of  a  Greek  or  Latin  author,  to  make  him.solf  master  of 
the  meaning,  and  then  lo  read  the  [jassage  straight  forward 
Into  his  own  languaga  This  practice,  begun  under  his  first 
teacher  Wilson,  was  continued  under  Prctymnu.  It  is  not 
strange  that  a  young  man  of  groat  abilities  who  had  been 
exercised  daily  in  this  way  during  ten  years,  should  have 
acquired  an  almost  unrivalled  power  of  putting  his  thmiglita, 
without  premeditation,  into  words  well  selected  and  ^cll 
arranged. 

Of  all  the  remains  of  antiquity,  the  orations  wcro  th(  se 
on  which  he  bestowed  tho  most  minute  examination.  Hia 
favourite  employment  was  to  compare  harangues  on 
opposite  sides  of  tho  same  question,  to  analy.<!0  them,  and 
to  observe  which  of  tho  orguraontii  of  tho  fir.-it  speaker  wero 
refuted  by  the  second,  which  wero  evaded,  and  which  wcro 
left  untouched.  Nor  was  it  only  in  books  that  bo  at  this 
time  studied  the  art  of  parliamoutary  fencing.     When  he 


130 


PITT 


was  at  home,  he  bad  frequent  opportunities  of  hearing 
important  debates  at  Westminster  ;  and  he  heard  them,  not 
only  with  interest  and  enjoyment,  but  with  a  close  scien- 
tific attention  resembling  that  with  which  a  diligent  pupil 
at  Guy's  Hospital  watches  every  turn  of  the  hand  of  a  great 
surgeon  through  a  difficult  operation  On  one  of  these  occa- 
sions Pitt,  a  youth  whose  abilities  were  as  yet  known  only  to 
his  own  family  and  to  a  small  knot  of  college  friends,  was 
introduced  on  the  steps  of  the  throne  in  the  House  of  Lords 
to  Fox,  who  was  his  senior  by  eleven  years,  and  who  was 
already  the  greatest  debater,  and  one  of  the  greatest  orators, 
that  had  appeared  in  England.  Fox  used  afterwards  to 
relate  that,  as  the  discussion  jiroceeded,  Pitt  repeatedly 
turned  to  him,  and  said,  "  But  surely,  Mr  Fox,  that  might 
be  met  thus;"  or  "Yes;  but  he  lays  himself  open  to  this 
retort."  What  the  particular  criticisms  were  Fox  had  for- 
gotten ;  but  he  said  that  he  was  much  struck  at  the  time 
by  the  precocity  of  a  lad  who,  through  the  whole  sitting, 
seemed  to  be  thinking  only  how  all  the  speeches  on  both 
aides  could  be  answered. 

One  of  the  young  man's  visits  to  the  House  of  Lords 
was  a  sad  and  memorable  era  in  his  life.  He  had  not  quite 
completed  his  nineteenth  year  when,  on  the  7th  of  April 
1778,  he  attended  his  father  to  Westminster.  A  great 
debate  was  expected.  It  was  known  that  France  had 
recognized  the  independence  of  the  United  States.  The 
duke  of  Richmond  was  about  to  declare  his  opinion  that 
all  thought  of  subjugating  those  states  ought  to  be  relin- 
quished Chatham  had  always  maintained  that  the 
resistance  of  the  colonies  to  the  mother  country  was 
justifiable.  But  he  conceived,  very  erroneously,  that  on 
the  day  on  which  their  independence  should  be  acknow- 
ledged the  greatness  of  England  would  be  at  an  end. 
Though  sinking  under  the  weight  of  years  and  infirmities, 
he  determined,  in  spite  of  the  entreaties  of  his  family,  to 
be  in  his  place.  His  son  supported  him  to  a  seat.  The 
excitement  and  exertion  were  too  much  for  the  old  man. 
In  the  very  act  of  addressing  the  peers,  he  ftU  back  in 
convulsions.  A  few  weeks  later  his  corpse  was  borne, 
with  gloomy  pomp,  from  the  Painted  Chamber  to  the 
Abbey.  The  favourite  child  and  namesake  of  the  deceased 
statesman  followed  the  coffin  as  chief  mourner,  and  saw 
it  deposited  in  the  transept  where  his  own  was  destined 
to  lie. 

His  elder  brother,  now  earl  of  Chatham,  had  means 
sufficient,  and  barely  sufHcient,  to  support  the  dignity  of 
the  peerage.  The  other  members  of  the  family  were 
poorly  provided  for.  Wilkam  had  little  more  than  three 
hundred  a  year.  It  was  necessary  for  him  to  follow  a 
profession.  He  had  already  begun  to  eat  his  terms.  In 
the  spring  of  1780  he  came  of  age.  He  then  quitted 
Cambridge,  was  called  to  the  bar,  took  chambers  in 
Lincoln's  Inn,  and  joined  the  western  circuit.  In  the 
autumn  of  that  year  a  general  election  took  place ;  and  he 
offered  himself  as  a  candidate  for  the  university ;  but  he 
was  at  the  bottom  of  the  poll.  It  is  said  that  the  grave 
doctors  who  then  sat,  robed  in  scarlet,  on  the  benches  of 
Golgotha  thought  it  great  presumption  in  so  young  a  man 
to  solicit  so  high  a  distinction.  He  was,  however,  at  the 
request  of  a  hereditary  friend,  the  duke  of  Rutland, 
brought  into  parliament  by  Sir  James  Lowther  for  the 
borough  of  Appleby. 

The  dangers  of  the  country  were  at  that  time  such  as 
might  well  have  disturbed  even  a  constant  mind.  Army 
after  army  had  been  sent  in  vain  against  the  rebellious 
colonists  of  North  America.  On  pitched  fields  of  battle 
the  advantage  had  been  with  the  disciplined  troops  of  the 
mother  country.  But  it  was  not  on  pitched  fields  of  battle 
that  the  event  of  such  a  contest  could  be  decided.  An 
armed  nation,  with  hunger  and  the  Atlantic  for  auxiliaries. 


was  not  to  be  subjugated.  Meanwhile  the  house  of  Bour- 
bon, humbled  to  the  dust  a  few  years  before  by  the  genius 
and  vigour  of  Chatham,  had  seized  the  opportunity  of 
revenge.  France  and  Spain  had  united  against  us,  and 
had  recently  been  joined  by  Holland.  The  command  of 
the  Mediterranean  had  been  for  a  time  lost.  The  British 
flag  had  been  scarcely  able  to  maintain  itself  in  the  British 
Channel.  The  northern  powers  professed  neutrality  ;  but 
their  neutrality  had  a  menacing  aspect.  In  the  East, 
Hyder  had  descended  on  the  Carnatic,  had  destroyed 
the  little  army  of  Baillie,  and  had  spread  terror  even  to 
the  ramparts  of  Fort  St  George.  The  discontents  of 
Ireland  threatened  nothing  less  than  civil  war.  In 
England  the  authority  of  the  Government  had  sunk  to 
the  lowest  point.  The  king  and  the  House  of  Commons 
were  alike  unpopular.  The  cry  for  parliamentary  reform 
was  scarcely  less  loud  and  vehement  than  in  the  autumn 
of  1830.  Formidable  associations,  headed,  not  by  ordi- 
nary demagogues,  but  by  men  of  high  rank,  stainless 
character,  and  distinguished  ability,  demanded  a  revision 
of  the  representative  system.  The  populace,  emboldened 
by  the  impotence  and  irresolution  of  the  Government,  had 
recently  broken  loose  from  all  restraint,  besieged  the 
chambers  of  the  legislature,  hustled  peers,  hunted  bishops, 
attacked  the  residences  of  ambassadors,  opened  prisons, 
burned  and  pulled  down  houses.  London  had  presented 
during  some  days  the  aspect  of  a  city  taken  by  storm  ; 
and  it  had  been  necessary  to  form  a  camp  among  the  trees 
of  St  James's  Park. 

In  spite  of  dangers  and  difficulties  abroad  and  at  home, 
George  III.,  with  a  firmness  which  had  little  affinity 
with  virtue,  or  with  wisdom,  persisted. in  his  determination 
to  put  down  the  American  rebels  by  force  of  arms  ;  and 
his  ministers  submitted  their  judgment  to  his.  Some  of 
them  were  probably  actuated  merely  by  selfish  cupidity  ; 
but  their  chief.  Lord  North,  a  man  of  high  honour,  amiable 
temper,  winning  manners,  lively  wit,  and  excellent  talents 
both  for  business  and  for  debate,  must  be  acquitted  of  all 
sordid  motives.  He  remained  at  a  post  from  which  he 
had  long  wished  and  had  repeatedly  tried  to  escape,  only 
because  he  had  not  sufficient  fortitude  to  resist  the  entreaties 
and  reproaches  of  the  king,  who  silenced  all  arguments  by 
passionately  asking  whether  any  gentleman,  any  man  of 
spirit,  could  have  the  heart  to  desert  a  kind  master  in  the 
hour  of  extremity. 

The  Opposition  consisted  of  two  parties  which  had  once 
been  hostile  to  each  other,  and  which  had  been  very  slowly 
and,  as  it  soon  appeared,  very  imperfectly  reconciled,  but 
which  at  this  conjuncture  seemed  to  act  together  with 
cordiality.  The  larger  of  these  parties  consisted  of  the 
great  body  of  the  Whig  aristocracy.  Its  head  was  Charles, 
marquis  of  Rockingham,  a  man  of  sense  and  virtue,  and 
in  wealth  and  parliamentary  interest  equalled  by  very  few 
of  the  English  nobles,  but  afilicted  with  a  nervous  timidity 
which  prevented  him  from  taking  a  prominent  part  in 
debate.  In  the  House  of  Commons  the  adherents  of 
Rockingham  were  led  by  Fox,  whose  dissipated  habits  and 
ruined  fortunes  were  the  talk  of  the  whole  town,  but 
whose  commanding  genius,  and  whose  sweet,  generous, 
and  affectionate  disposition,  extorted  the  admiration  and 
love  of  those  who  most  lamented  the  errors  of  his  private 
life.  Burke,  superior  to  Fox  in  largeness  of  comprehen- 
sion, in  extent  of  knowledge,  and  in  splendour  of  imagina- 
tion, but  less  skilled  in  that  kind  of  logic  and  in  that  kind 
of  rhetoric  which  convince  and  persuade  great  assemblies, 
was  willing  to  be  the  lieutenant  of  a  young  chief  who 
might  have  been  his  son. 

A  smaller  section  of  the  Opposition  was  composed  of  the 
old  followers  of  Chatham.  At  their  head  was  William, 
earl  of  Shelburne,  distinguished  both  as  a  statesman  and 


PITT 


137 


BS  a  lover  of  science  and  letters.  With  liim  were  leagued 
Lord  Camden,  who  had  formerly  held  the  gr«at  seal,  and 
whose  integrity,  ability,  and  constitutional  knowledge 
commanded  the  public  respect ;  Barre,  an  eloquent  and 
vcrimonious  declaimer ;  and  Dunning,  who  had  long  held 
ihe  first  piace  at  the  English  bar.  It  was  to  this  party 
;hat  Pitt  was  naturally  attracted. 

On  the  2Gth  of  February  1781  he  inado  his  first  speech 
in  favour  of  Burke's  plan  of  economical  reform.  Fox  stood 
up  at  the  same  moment,  but  instantly  gave  way.  The 
lofty  yet  animated  deportment  of  the  young  member,  his 
perfect  self-possession,  the  readiness  with  which  he  replied 
to  the  orators  who  had  preceded  him,  the  silver  tones  of 
his  voice,  the  perfect  structure  of  his  unpremeditated 
sentences,  astonished  and  delighted  his  hearers.  Burke, 
moved  even  to  tears,  exclaimed,  "  It  is  not  a  chip  of  tho 
old  block  ;  it  is  the  old  block  itself."  "  Pitt  will  be  one  of 
the  first  men  in  parliament,"  said  a  member  of  the 
opposition  to  Fox.  "  He  is  so  already,"  answered  Fox, 
in  whose  nature  envy  had  no  place.  It  is  a  curious  fact, 
well  remembered  by  some  who  were  very  recently  living,* 
that  soon  after  this  debate  Pitt's  name  was  put  up  by  Fox 
at  Brookes's. 

On  two  subsequent  occasions  during  that  session  Pitt 
addressed  the  House,  6,nd  on  both  fully  sustained  the 
reputation  which  he  had  acquired  on  his  first  appearance. 
In  the  summer,  after  the  prorogation,  he  again  went  tho 
■western  circuit,  held  several  briefs,  and  acquitted  himself 
in  such  a  manner  that  he  was  highly  complimented  by 
Buller  from  the  bench,  and  by  Dunning  at  the  bar. 

On  the  27th  of  November  the  parliament  reassembled. 
Only  forty-eight  hours  before  had  arrived  tidings  of  the 
surrender  of  Cornwallis  and  his  army ;  and  it  had  conse- 
quently been  necessary  to  rewrite  the  royal  speech.  Every 
man  in  the  kingdom,  except  the  king,  was  now  convinced 
that  it  was  mere  madness  to  think  of  conquering  the  United 
States.  In  the  debate  on  the  report  of  the  address,  Pitt 
spoke  with  even  more  eilergy  and  brilliancy  than  on  any 
former  occa.sion.  He  was  warmly  applauded  by  his  allies; 
but  it  was  remarked  that  no  person  on  his  own  side  of  the 
house  was  so  loud  in  eulogy  as  Henry  Diindas,  the  lord 
advocate  of  Scotland,  who  spoke  from  tho  ministerial 
ranks.  That  able  and  versatile  politician  distinctly  fore- 
saw the  approaching  downfall  of  the  Government  with 
which  ho  was  connected,  and  was  preparing  to  make  his 
own  escape  from  tho  ruin.  From  that  night  dates  his 
connexion  with  Pitt,  a  connexion  which  soon  became  a 
close  intimacy,  and  which  lasted  till  it  was  dissolved  by 
death. 

About  a  fortnight  later  Pitt  spoke  in  tho  committee 
of  supply  on  the  army  estimates.  Symptoms  of  dissen- 
sion had  begun  to  appear  on  the  treasury  bench.  Lord 
Georgo  Gcrmaine,  the  secretary  of  sta-te  who  was  especi- 
ally charged  with  the  direction  of  the  war  in  America,  had 
held  language  not  easily  to  be  reconciled  with  declarations 
made  by  tho  first  lord  of  the  treasury.  Pitt  noticed  tho 
discrepancy  with  much  force  and  keenness.  Lord  Georgo 
and  Lord  North  began  to  whisper  together  ;  and  Wclboro 
Ellis,  an  ancient  placeman  who  had  been  drawing  salary 
almost  every  quarter  since  tho  days  of  Henry  Pelham,  bent 
down  between  them  to  put  in  a  word.  Such  interruptions 
sometimes  discompose  veteran  speakers.  Pitt  stopped, 
and,  looking  at  the  group,  said,  with  admirable  readiness, 
"I  shall  wait  till  Nestor  has  composed  the  dispute  between 
Agamemnon  and  Achilles." 

After  several  defeats,  or  victories  hardly  to  be  distin- 
guished from  defeats,  the  ministry  resigned.  Tho  king, 
reluctantly  and  ungraciously,  consented  to  accept  Rock- 


'  [It  is  to  bo  noted  that  this  and  some  other  allusions  in  tlie  pre- 
sent avliclo  refer  to  the  date  of  iti  oricii-al  nninarani-e,  1S59  1 


ingham  as  first  minister.  Fox  and  Shelburne  became 
secretaries  of  state.  Lord  John  Cavendish,  one  of  the 
most  upright  and  honourable  of  men,  was  made  chancellor 
of  the  exchequer.  Thurlow,  whose  abilities  and  force  of 
character  had  made  him  the  dictator  of  the  House  of 
Lords,  continued  to  hold  the  great  seal. 

To  Pitt  was  offered,  through  Shelburne,  the  vice- 
treasurership  of  Ireland,  one  of  the  easiest  and  most 
highly  paid  places  in  the  gift  of  the  crown ;  but  the  offer 
was  without  hesitation  declined.  The  young  statesman 
had  resolved  to  accept  no  post  which  did  not  entitle  him  to 
a  seat  in  the  cabinet ;  and  a  few  days  later  he  announced 
that  resolution  in  the  House  of  Commons.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  the  cabinet  was  then  a  much  smaller  and 
more  select  body  than  at  present.  We  have  seen  cabinets 
of  sixteen.  In  the  time  of  our  grandfathers  a  cabinet  of 
ten  or  eleven  was  thought  inconveniently  large.  Seven 
was  a  usual  number.  Even  Burke,  who  had  taken  the 
lucrative  office  of  paymaster,  was  not  in  the  cabinet. 
Many  therefore  thought  Pitt's  declaration  indecent.  He 
himself  was  sorry  that  he  had  made  it.  The  words,  he 
said  in  private,  had  escaped  him  in  the  heat  of  speaking  ; 
and  he  had  no  sooner  uttered  them  than  he  would  have 
given  the  world  to  recall  them.  They,  however,  did  him 
no  harm  with  the  public.  The  second  William  •  Pitt,  it 
was  said,  had  shown  that  he  had  inherited  the  spirit  as 
well  as  the  genius  of  the  first.  In  the  son,  as  in  the 
father,  there  might  perhaps  be  too  much  pride  ;  but  there 
was  nothing  low  or  sordid.  It  might  be  called  arrogance 
in  a  young  barrister,  living  in  chambers  on  three  hundred 
a  year,  to  refuse  a  salary  of  five  thousand  a  year,  merely 
because  he  did  not  choose  to  bind  himself  to  speak  or  vote 
for  plans  which  he  had  no  share  in  framing ;  but  surely 
such  arrogance  was  not  very  far  removed  from  virtue. 

Pitt  gave  a  general  support  to  the   administration  of 

Rockingham,  but  omitted,  in  the  meantime,  no  opportunity 

of  courting  that  ultra-Whig  party  which  tho  persecution 

of   Wilkes  and  the  Middlesex   election   had   called  into 

existence,  and  which  the  disastrous  events  of  the  war,  and 

the  triumph  of  republican  princii)les  in  America,  had  made 

formidable  both  in  numbers  and  in  temper.     He  supported 

a  motion  for  shortening  the  duration  of  parliaments.     He 

made  a  motion  for  a  committee  to  examine  into  the  state  Intro- 

of  tho  representation,  and,  in  tho  speech  by  which  that  '^'" "' 

•,11  J  i,"         If   ii  r   ii,     motion 

motion  was  introduced,  avowed  himself  the  enemy  oi  the  ^^^  ,,arli» 

close  boroughs,  the  strongholds  of  that  corruption  to  which  mcatary 

he  attributed  all  the  calamities  of  the  nation,  and  which,  as  refonn, 

he  phrased  it  in  one  of  those  exact  and  sonorous  sentences  ?l"^^' 

of  which  he  had  a  boundless  command,  had  grown  with  the 

growth  of  England  and  strengthened  with  her  strength, 

but  had  not  diminished  with  her  diminution  or  decayed 

with  her  decay.     On  this  occasion  he  was  supported 'by 

Fox.     The  motion  was   lost   by  only  twenty  votes  in  a 

house   of    more    than    three    hundred    members.      The 

reformers  never  again  had  so  good  a  division  till  tho  year 

1831. 

The  new  administration  was  strong  in  abilities,  and 
was  more  popular  than  any  administration  which  had 
held  ofiice  since  the  first  year  of  Georgo  III.,  but  was 
hated  by  tho  king,  hesitatingly  supported  by  the  Parlia- 
ment, and  torn  by  internal  dissensions.  Tho  chancellor 
was  disliked  and  distrusted  by  almost  all  his  colleagues. 
The  two  secretaries  of  state  regarded  each  other  with  no 
friendly  feeling.  The  line  between  their  departments  had 
not  been  traced  with  precision  ;  and  there  were  conse- 
quently jealousies,  encroachment*,  and  complaints.  It 
was  all  that  Rockingham  could  do  to  keep  the  peace  in 
his  cabinet ;  and  before  tho  cabinet  had  oxi>tcd  three 
months  Rockingham  died. 

In  an  instant  all  was  confusion.     The  adherents  of  the 

XIX.  —  k' 


138 


PITT 


deceased  statesman  looked  on  tlie  duke  of  Portland  as 
their  chief.  The  king  placed  Shelburne  at  the  head  of 
the  treasury.  Fox,  Lord  John  Cavendish,  and  Burke 
immediately  resigned  their  offices  ;  and  the  new  prime 
minister  was  left  to  constitute  a  Government  out  of  very 
defective  materials.  His  own  parliamentary  talents  were 
great  ;  but  he  could  not  bo  in  the  place  where  parliamen- 
tary talents  were  most  needed.  It  was  necessary  to  find 
some  member  of  tbe  House  of  Commons  who  could 
confront  the  great  orators  of  the  Opposition;  and. Pitt 
alone  had  the  eloquence  and  the  courage  which  were 
required.  He  was  offered  the  great  place  of  chancellor 
of  the  exchequer,  and  he  accepted  it.  He  had  scarcely 
completed  his  twenty-third  year. 

The  parliament  was  speedily  prorogued.  During  the 
recess  a  negotiation  for  peace  which  had  been  commenced 
under  Rockingham  was  brought  to  a  successful  termination. 
England  acknowledged  the  independence  of  her  revolted 
colonies ;  and  she  ceded,  to  her  European  enemies  some 
places  in  the  Mediterranean  and  in  the  Gulf  of  ^Mexico. 
But  the  terms  which  she  obtained  were  quite  as  advanta- 
geous and  honourable  as  the  events  of  the  war  entitled  her 
to  expect,  or  as  she  was  likely  to  obtain  by  persevering  in 
a  contest  against  immense  odds.  All  her  vital  parts,  all 
the  real  sources  of  her  power,  remained  uninjured.  She 
preserved  even  her  dignity ;  for  she  ceded  to  the  house  of 
Bourbon  only  part' of  what  she  had  won  from  that  house 
in  previous  wars.  She  retained  her  Indian  empire  un- 
diminished ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  mightiest  efforts  of  two 
great  monarchies,  her  flag  still  waved  on  the  rock  of 
Gibraltar.  There  is  not  the  slightest  reason  to  believe  that 
Fox,  if  he  had  remained  in  office,  would  have  hesitated  one 
moment  about  concluding  a  treaty  on  such  conditions. 
Unhappily  that  great  and  most  amiable  man  was,  at  this 
crisis,  hurried  by  his  passions  into  an  error  which  made  his 
genius  and  his  virtues,  during  a  long  course  of  years,  almost 
useless  to  his  country. 

He  saw  that  the  great  body  of  the  House  of  Commons 
was  divided  into  three  parties — his  own,  that  of  North,  and 
that  of  Shelburne ;  that  none  of  those  three  parties  was 
large  enough  to  stand  alone ;  that,  therefore,  unless  two  of 
them  united  there  must  be  a  miserably  feeble  administra- 
tion, or,  more  probably,  a  rapid  succession  of  miserably 
feeble  administrations,  and  this  at  a  time  when  a  strong 
Government  was  essential  to  the  prosperity  and  respecta- 
bility of  the  nation.  It  was  then  necessary  and  right  that 
there  should  be  a  coalition.'  To  every  possible  coalition 
there  were  objections.  But  of  all  possible  coalitions  that 
to  which  there  were  the  fewest  objections  was  undoubt- 
edly a  coalition  between  Shelburne  and  Fox.  It  would 
have  been  generally  applauded  by  the  followers  of  both. 
It  might  have  been  made  without  any  sacrifice  of  public 
principle  on  the  part  of  either.  Unhappily,  recent  bicker- 
ings had  left  in  the  mind  of  Fox  a  profound  dislike  and 
distrust  of  Shelburne.  Pitt  attempted  to  mediate,  and 
was  authorized  to  invite  Fox  to  return  to  the  service  of  the 
crown.  "  Is  Lord  Shelburne,"  said  Fox,  "  to  remain  prime 
minister  t  "  Pitt  answered  in  the  affirmative.  "  It  is  im- 
possible that  I  can  act  under  him,"  said  Fox.  "  Then 
negotiation  is  at  an  end, "  said  Pitt ;  "  for  I  cannot  betray 
him."  Thus  the  two  statesmen  parted.  They  were  never 
again  in  a  private  room  together. 

As  Fox  and  his  friends  would  not  treat  with  Shelburne, 
nothing  remained  to  them  but  to  treat  with  Forth.  That 
fatal  coalition  which  is  emphatically  called  "  The  Coali- 
tion "  was  formed.  Not  three  quarters  of  a  year  had 
elapsed  since  Fox  and  Burke  had  threatened  North  with 
impeachment,  and  had  described  him  night  after  night  as 
the  most  arbitrary,  the  most  corrupt,  and  the  most  incap- 
able of  ministers.     Thev  now  allied  themselves  with  him 


for  the  purpose  of  driving  from  office  a  statesman  with 
whom  they  cannot  be  said  to  have  difTered  as  to  any 
important  question.  Nor  had  they  even  the  prudence  and 
the  patience  to  wait  for  some  occasion  on  which  they 
might,  without  inconsistency,  have  combined  with  their 
old  enemies  in  opposition  to  the  Government.  That 
nothing  might  be  wanting  to  the  scandal  the  great  orators 
who  had,  during  seven  years,  thundered  igaiust  the  war 
determined  to  join  with  the  authors  of  that  war  in  passing 
a  vote  of  censure  on  *^he  peace. 

The  parliament  met  before  Christmas  1782.  But  it 
was  not  tUl  January  1783  that  the  preliminary  treaties 
■were  s'.gned.  On  the  17th  of  February  they  were  taken 
into  consideration  by  the  House  of  Commons.  There  had ' 
been,  during  some  days,  floating  rumours  that  Fox  and 
North  had  coalesced ;  and  the  debate  indicated  but  too 
clearly  that  those  rumours  were  not  unfounded.  Pitt  was 
suffering  from  indisposition ;  he  did  not  rise  till  his  own 
strength  and  that  of  his  hearers  were  exhausted ;  and  he 
was  consequently  less  successful  than  on  any  former  occa- 
sion. His  admirers  owned  that  his  speech  was  feeble  and 
petulant.  He  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  advise  Sheridan 
to  confine  himself  to  amusing  theatrical  audiences.  This 
ignoble  sarcasm  gave  Sheridan  an  opportunity  of  retorting 
with  great  felicity.  "  After  what  I  have  seen  and  heard 
to-night,"  he  said,  "I  really  feel  strongly  tempted  to 
venture  on  a  competition  with  so  great  an  artist  as  Ben 
Jonson,  and  to  bring  on  the  stage  a  second  Atigry  Boy." 
On  a  division,  the  address  proposed  by  the  supporters  of 
the  Government  was  rejected  by  a  majority  of  sixteen. 

But  Pitt  was  not  a  man  to  be  disheartened  by  a  single 
failure,  or  to  be  put  down  by  the  most  lively  repartee. 
When,  a  few  days  later,  the  Opposition  proposed  a  resolu- 
tion directly  censuring  the  treaties,  he  spoke  with  an 
eloquence,  energy,  and  dignity  which  raised  his  fame  and 
popularity  higher  than  ever.  To  the  coalition  of  Fox  and 
North  he  alluded  in  language  which  drew  forth  tumultu- 
ous applause  from  his  followers.  "  If,"  he  said,  "  this  ill- 
omened  and  unnatural  marriage  be  not  yet  consummated, 
I  know  of  a  just  and  lawful  impediment;  and,  in  the  name 
of  the  public  weal,  I  forbid  the  banns." 

The  ministers  were  again  left  in  a  minority,  and 
Shelburne  consequently  tendered  his  resignation.  It  was 
accepted ;  but  the  king  struggled  long  and  hard  before  he 
submitted  to  the  terms  dictated  by  Fox,  whose  faults  he 
detested,  and  whosq  high  spirit  and  powerful  intellect  be 
detested  still  more.  The  first  place  at  the  board  of 
treasury  was  repeatedly  offered  to  Pitt;  but  the  offer, 
though  tempting,  was  steadfastly  declined.  The  young 
man,  whose  judgment  was  as  precocious  as  his  eloquence, 
saw  that  his  time  was  coming,  but  was  not  come,  and  was 
deaf  to  royal  importunities  and  reproaches.  His  Majesty, 
bitterly  complaining  of  Pitt's  faintheartedness,  tried  to 
break  the  coalition.  Every  art  of  seduction  was  practised 
on  North,  but  in  vain.  During  several  weeks  the  country 
remained  without  a  Government.  It  was  not  tiU  all 
devices  had  failed,  and  till  the  aspect  of  the  House  of 
Commons  became  threatening,  that  the  king  gave  way. 
The  duke  of  Portland  was  declared  first  lord  of  the 
treasury.  Thurlow  was  dismissed.  Fox  and  North 
became  secretaries  of  state,  with  power  ostensibly  equal 
But  Fox  was  the  real  prime  minister. 

The  year  was  far  advanced  before  the  new  arrangements 
were  completed ;  and  nothing  very  important  was  done 
during  the  remainder  of  the  session.  Pitt,  now  seated  on 
the  Opposition  bench,  brought  the  question  of  parliament- 
ary reform  a  second  time  under  the  consideration  of  the 
Commons.  He  proposed  to  add  to  the  House .  at  once  a 
hundred  county  members  and  several  members  for  metro- 
lidlitan.  districts,  and  to  enact  that  every  borough  of  which 


PITT 


139 


on  election  committee  shovJd  report  that  the  majority  of 
Toters  appeared  to  he  corruot  should  lose  the  franchise. 
The  motion  was  rejected  by  393  votes  to  149. 

After  the  prorogation,  Pitt  Tisiied  the  Continent  for  the 
first  and  last  time.  His  travelling  companion  was  one  of 
his  most  intimate  friends,  a  young  man  of  his  own  age 
who  had  already  distinguished  himself  in  parliament  by  an 
engaging  natural  eloquence,  set  ofi  by  the  sweetest  and 
most  exquisitely  modulated  of  human  voices,  and  whose 
affectionate  heart,  caressing  manners,  and  brilliant  wit 
made  him  the  most  delightful  of  companions,  William 
Wilberforco.  That  was  the  time  of  Anglomania  in 
France ;  and  at  Paris  the  son  of  the  great  Chatham  was 
absolutely  hunted  by  men  of  letters  and  women  of  fashion, 
and  forced,  much  against  his  vidll,  into  political  disputa- 
tion. One  remarkable  saying  which  dropped  from  him 
during  this  tour  has  been  preserved-  A  French  gentleman 
expressed  some  surprise  at  the  immense  influence  which 
Fox,  a  man  of  pleasure,  ruined  by  the  dice-box  and  the 
turf,  exercised  over  the  English  nation.  "  You  have  not," 
said  Pitt,  "  been  under  the  wand  of  the  magician." 

In  November  1783   the  parliament  met   again.     The 
Government   had    irresistible   strength    in   the   House   of 
Commons,  and  seemed  to  be  scarcely  less  strong  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  but  was,  in  truth,  surrounded  on  every 
side  by  dangers.     The  king  was  impatiently  waiting  for 
the  moment  at  which  he  could  emancipate  himself  from  a 
yoke  which  galled  him  so  severely  tliat  he  had  more  than 
once  seriously  thought  of  retiring  to  Hanover ;  and  the 
king  was  scarcely  more  eager  for  a  change  than  the  nation. 
Fox  and  North  had  committed  a  fatal  error.     They  ought 
to  have  known  that  coalitions  between  parties  which  have 
long  been   hostile  can  succeed  only  when  the  wish  for 
coalition  pervades  the  lower  ranks  of  both.     If  the  leaders 
unite  before  there  is  any  disposition  to  union  among  the 
followers,  the  probability  is  that  there  will  be  a  mutiny  in 
both  camps,  and  that  the  two  revolted  armies  will  make  a 
truce  with  each  other  in  order  to  be  revenged  on  those. by 
whom  they  think  that  they  have  been  betrayed.     Thus  it 
was  in    1783.     At  the   beginning  of  that  eventful  year 
North  had  been  the  recognized  head  of  the  old  Tory  party, 
which,  though  for  a  moment  prostrated  by  the  disastrous 
issue  of  the  American  war,  was  still  a  great  power  in  the 
state.     To  Lira  the  clergy,  the  universities,  and  that  largo 
body  of  country  gentlemen  whose  rallying  cry  was  "  Church 
and  King  "  had  long  looked  up  with  respect  and  confid- 
ence.    Fox  had,  on  the  other  hand,  been  the  idol  of  tho 
Whigs,  and  of  the  whole  body  of  Protestant  dissontera 
The  coalition  at  once  alienated  the  most  zealous  Tories 
from  North  and  tho  most  zealous  Whigs  from  Fox.     The 
university  of  Oxford,  which  had  marked  its  approbation 
of  North's  orthodoxy  by  electing  him  chancellor,  the  city 
of  London,  which  had  been  during  two  and  twenty  years 
at  war  with  tho  court,   were  equally  disgusted.     Squires 
and  rectors  who  had  inherited  tho  principles  of  tho  cava- 
liers of  the  preceding  century  could  not  forgive  their  old 
leader  for  combining  with  disloyal  subjects  in  order  to  put 
a  force  on  the  sovereign.     The  members  of  the  Bill  of 
Rights  Society  and  of  the  reform  associations  wore  enraged 
by   learning  that  their  favourite  orator  now  called  tho 
great  champion  of  tyranny  and  corruption  his  noble  friend. 
Two  great  multitudes  were  at  once  left   without  any  head, 
and  both  at  once,  turned  their  eyes  on  Pitt.     One  party 
saw  in  him  the  only  man  who  could  rescue  the  king ;  the 
other   saw   in   him  the   only  man   who  could   purify  tho 
parliament.     He  was  supported  on  one  side  by  Archbishop 
Markham,  the  jircacher  of  divine  right,  and  by  Jenkinson, 
the  captain  of  the  pr.itorian  band  of  the  king's  friends ; 
on  tho  other  side  by  .Tobb  and  Priestley,  Sawbridgo  and 
Carlwright,    Jack    Wilkes    and    Homo    Tooke.     On    the 


benches  of  the  House  of  Commons,  however,  the  ranks  of 
the  ministerial  majority  were  unbroken ;  and  that  any 
statesman  would  venture  to  brave  such  a  majority  was 
thought  impossible.  No  prince  of  the  Hanoverian  line 
had  ever,  under  any  provocation,  ventured  to  appeal  from 
the  representative  body  to  the  constituent  body.  The 
ministers,  therefore,  notwithstanding  the  sullen  looks  and 
muttered  words  of  displeasure  with  which  their  sugges- 
tions were  received  in  the  closet,  notwithstanding  the  roar 
of  obloquy  which  was  rising  louder  and  louder  every  day 
from  every  corner  of  the  island,  thought  themselves 
secure. 

Such  was  their  confidence  in  their  strength  that,  as 
soon  as  the  parliament  had  met,  they  brought  forward  a 
singularly  bold  and  original  plan  for  the  government  of 
the  British  territories  in  India.  What  was  proposed  was 
that  the  whole  authority  which  till  that  time  had  been 
exercised  over  those  territories  by  the  East  India  Com- 
pany should  be  transferred  to  seven  commissioners,  who 
were  to  be  named  by  parliament,  and  were  not  to  be 
removable  at  the  pleasure  of  the  crov/n.  Earl  Fitzwilliam, 
the  most  intimate  personal  friend  of  Fox,  was  to  be  chair- 
man of  this  board,  and  the  eldest  son  of  North  was  to  be 
one  of  the  members. 

As  soon  as  the  outlines  of  the  scheme  were  known  all 
the  hatred  which  the  coalition  had  excited  burst  forth 
with  an  astounding  explosion.  The  question  which  ought 
undoubtedly  to  have  been  considered  as  paramount  to 
every  other  was  whether  the  proposed  change  was  likely 
to  be  beneficial  or  injurious  to  the  thirty  millions  of  people 
who  were  subject  to  the  company.  But  that  question 
cannot  be  said  to  have  been  even  seriously  discussed. 
Burke,  who,  whether  right  or  wrong  in  the  conclusions  to 
which  ho  came,  had  at  least  tho  merit  of  looking  at  the 
subject  in  the  right  point  of  view,  vainly  reminded  his 
hearers  of  that  mighty  population  whose  daily  rice  might 
depend  on  a  vote  of  the  British  parliament.  He  spoke 
with  even  more  than  his  wonted  power  of  thought  and 
language,  about  the  desolation  of  Rohilcund,  about  the 
spoliation  of  Benares,  about  the  evil  policy  which  had 
suffered  the  tanks  of  the  Carnatic  to  go  to  ruin ;  but  he 
could  scarcely  obtain  a  hearing.  The  contending  parties, 
to  their  shame  it  must  be  said,  would  listen  to  none  but 
English  topics.  Out  of  doore  the  cry  against  the  ministry 
was  almost  universal.  Town  and  country  were  united. 
Corporations  exclaimed  against  the  violation  of  the  charter 
of  the  greatest  corporation  in  tho  realm.  Tories  and 
democrats  joined  in  pronouncing  the  proposed  board  an 
unconstitutional  body.  It  was  to  consist  of  Fox's  nomi- 
nees. The  effect  of  his  bill  was  to  give,  not  to  the  crowi, 
but  to  him  personally,  whether  in  office  or  in  opposition, 
an  enormous  power,  a  patronage  Bufficient  to  counter- 
balance the  patronage  of  the  trensui^  and  of  the  admiralty, 
and  to  decide  the  elections  for  fifty  boroughs.  Ho  know, 
it  was  said,  that  ho  was  hateful  alike  to  king  and  people ; 
and  he  had  devised  a  plan  which  would  nmko  him  inde- 
pendent of  both.  Some  nicknamed  him  Cromwell,  and 
some  Carlo  Khan.  Wilberforce,  with  his  usual  folicity  of 
expression,  and  with  very  unusual  bitterness  of  feeling, 
described  the  scheme  as  tho  genuine  offspring  of  tho  coali- 
tion, as  marked  with  the  feature."*  of  both  its  parent*,  the 
corruption  of  one  and  the  violence  of  tho  other.  In  spite 
of  all  opposition,  however,  tho  bill  was  BUpi>orted  in  ovory 
stage  by  great  majorities,  was  ropidly  pa.'xscd,  and  was  sent 
up  to  the  Lords.  To  tho  general  ftMtunlHhmont.  when  tho 
second  reading  was  moved  in  tho  Upper  House,  the 
OpjwHition  proposed  an  adjournment,  and  carried  it  by 
eighty-seven  votes  to  novonty-nine.  Th»  cause  of  this 
strange  turn  of  fortune  was  soon  known.  Pitt's  cousin, 
Earl  Tcmolc,  had  been  in  the  royal  closet,  and  had  there 


140 


P  1  T  1' 


Ifeen  autborized  to  let  it  be  known  that  His  Majesty  would 
fonsidei'  all  who  voted  for  the  bill  as  his  enemies.  -  The 
ignominious  commission  was  performed,  and  instantly  a 
»roop  of  lords  of  the  bedchamber,  of  bishops  who  wished  to 
')e  translated,  and  of  Scotch  peers  who  wished  to  be  re^ 
elected  made  haste  to  chan.se  sides.  On  a  later  day  the 
Lords  rejected  the  bill.  Fox  and  North  were  immediately 
directed  to  send  their  seals  to  the  palace  by  their  under 
secretaries ;  and  Pitt  was  appointed  first  lord  of  the 
treasury  and  chancellor  of  the  exchequer. 

The  general  opinion  was  that  there  would  be  an  im- 
mediati.  dissolution.  But  Pitt  wisely  determined  to  give 
the  public  feeling  time  to  gather  strength.  On  this  point 
he  differed  from  his  kinsman  Temple.  The  consequence 
was  that  Temple,  who  had  been  appointed  one  of  the  secre- 
taries of  state,  resigned  his  office  forty-eight  hours  after  ho 
had  accepted  it,  and  thus  relieved  the  new  Government 
from  a  great  load  of  unpopularity  ;  for  all  men  of  sense  and 
honour,  however  strong  might  be  their  dislike  of  the  India 
Bill,  disapproved  of  the  manner  in  which  that  bill  had  been 
thrown  out.  Temple  carried  awdy  with  him  the  scandal 
which  the  best  friends  of  the  new  Government  could  not 
but  lament.  The  fame  of  the  young  prime  minister  pre- 
served Its  whiteness.  He  could  declare  with  perfect  truth 
that,  if  unconstitutional  machinations  bad  been  employed, 
he  had  been  no  party  to  them. 

He  was,  however,  surrounded  by  difficulties  and  dangers. 
Tn  the  House  of  Lords,  indeed,  be  had  a  majority  ;  nor 
could  any  orator  of  the  opposition  in  that  assembly  be  con- 
sidered as  a'  match  for  Thurlow,  who  was  now  again  chan- 
cellor, or  for  Camden,  who  cordially  supported  the  son  of 
his  old  friend  Chatham.  But  in  the  other  House  there  was 
not  a  single  eminent  speaker  among  the  official  men  who 
sat  round  Pitt.  Plis  most  useful  assistant  was  Dundas, 
who,  though  he  had  not  eloquence,  had  sense,  knowledge, 
readiness,  and  boldness.  On  the  opposite  benches  was  a 
powerful  majority,  led  by  Fox,  who  was  supported  by 
Burke,  North,  and  Sheridan.  The  heart  of  the  young 
minister,  stout  as  it  was,  almost  died  within  him.  He 
could  not  once  close  his  eyes  on  the  night  which  followed 
Temple's  resignation.  But,  whatever  his  internal  emotions 
might  be,  his  language  and  deportment  indicated  nothing 
but  unconquerable  firmness  and  haughty  confidence  in  his 
own  powers.  His  contest  against  the  House  of  Commons 
lasted  from  the  17th  of  December  1783  to  the  8th  of 
March  1784.  In  sixteen  divisions  the  Opposition  tri- 
umphed. Again  and  again  the  king  was  requested  to 
dismiss  his  ministers ;  but  he  was  determined  to  go  to 
Germany  rather  than  yield.  Pitt's  '  resolution  never 
wavered.  The  cry  of  the  nation  in  his  favour  became 
vehement  and  almost  furious.  Addresses  assuring  him  of 
public,  support  came  up  daily  from  every  part  of  the  king- 
dom. The  freedom  of  the  city  of  London  was  presented 
to  him  in  a  gold  box.  He  went  in  state  to  receive  this 
mark  of  distinction.  He  was  sumptuously  feasted  in 
Grocers'  Hall ;  and  the  shopkeepers  of  the  Strand  and 
Fleet  Street  illuminated  their  houses  in  his  honour.  These 
things  could  not  but  produce  an  effect  within  the  walls  of 
parliament.  The  ranks  of  the  majority  began  to  waver ; 
a  few  passed  over  to  fhe  enemy  ;  some  skulked  away  ; 
many' were  for  capitulating  while  it  was  still  possible  to 
capitulate  with  the  honours  of  war.  Negotiations  were 
oi)ened  w'ith  the  view  of  forming  an  administration  on  a 
wide  basis,  but  they  had  scarcely  been  opened  when  they 
were  closed.  The  Opposition  demanded,  as  a  preliminary 
article  of  the  treaty,  that  Pitt  should  resign  the  treasury ; 
and  with  this  demand  Pitt  steadfastly  refused  to  comply. 
While  the  contest  was  raging,  the  clerkship  of  the  Pells,  a 
sinecure  place  for  life,  worth  three  thousand  a  year,  and 
tenable  with  a   seat  in  the  House  of  Commons,  became 


vacant.  The  appointment  was  with  the  chancellor  of  tha 
exchequer  ;  nobody  doubted  that  he  would  apiioint  him- 
self, and  nobody  could  have  blamed  him  if  he  had  done 
so  ;  for  such  sinecure  offices  had  always  been  defended  on 
the  ground  that  they  enabled  a  few  men  of  eminent  abili- 
ties and  small  incomes  to  live  without  any  profession,  and 
to  devote  themselves  to  the  service  of  the  state.  Pitt,  in 
spite  of  the  remonstrances  of  his  friends,  gave  the  Pells  to 
his  father's  old  adherent.  Colonel  Barr^,  a  man  distin- 
guished by  talent  and  eloquence,  but  poor  and  afllicted 
with  blindness.  By  this  arrangement  a  pension  which  the 
Rockingham  administration  had  granted  to  BarriS  was 
saved  to  the  public.  Never  was  there  a  happier  stroke  of 
policy.  About  treaties,  wars,  expeditions,  tariffs,  budgets, 
there  will  always  be  room  for  dispute.  The  policy  which 
is  applauded  by  half  the  nation  may  be  condemned  by  tb« 
other  half.  But  pecuniary  disinterestedness  everyb-  iy 
comprehends.  It  is  a  great  thing  for  a  man  who  has  only, 
three  hundred  a  year  to  be  able  to  show  that  he  considers 
three 'thousand  a  year  as  mere  dirt  beneath  his  feet,  when 
compared  with  the  public  interest  and  the  public  esteem: 
Pitt  had  his  reward.  No  minister  was  ever  more  rancorously 
libelled  ;  but  even  when  he  was  known  to  be  overwhelmed 
with  debt,  when  millions  were  passing  through  his  hands,' 
when  the  wealthiest  magnates  of  the  realm  were  soliciting 
him  for  marquisates  and  garters,  his  bitterest  enemies  did 
not  dare  to  accuse  him  of  touching  unlawful  gain. 

At  length  the  hard-fought  fight  ended.  A  final  remon- 
strance, drawn  up  by  Burke  with  admirable  skill,  was 
carried  on  the  8th  of  March  by  a  single  votfi  in  a  full 
house.  Had  the  experiment  been  repeated,  the  sup- 
porters of  the  coalition  would  probably  have  been  in  a 
minority.  But  the  supplies  had  been  voted;  the  Mutiny 
Bill  had  been  passed  ;  and  the  parliament  was  dissolved. 

The  popular  constituent  bodies  all  over  the  country 
were  in  general  enthusiastic  on  the  side  of  the  new 
Government.  A  hundred  and  sixty  of  the  supporters  of 
the  coalition  lost  their  seats.  The  first  lord  of  the  treasury 
himself  came  in  at  the  head  of  the  poll  for  the  university 
of  Cambridge.  His  young  friend,  Wilberforce,  was  elected 
knight  of  the  great  shire  of  York,  in  opposition  to  the 
whole  influence  of  the  Fitzwilliams,  Cavendishes,  Dun- 
dases,  and  Saviles.  In  the  midst  of  such  triumphs  Pits 
completed  his  twenty-fifth  year.  He  was  now  the  greatest 
subject  that  England  had  seen  during  nrany  generations. 
He  domineered  absolutely  ,over  the  cabinet,  and  was  the 
favourite  at  once  of  the  sovereign,  of  the  parliament,  and 
of  the  nation.  His  father  had  never  been  so  powerful, 
nor  Walpole,  nor  Marlborough. 

This  narrative  has  now  reaobed  a  point  beyond  which  a  full 
history  of  the  life  of  Pitt  would  be  a,  history  of  England,  or  rather 
of  the  whole  civilized  world  ;  and  for  such  a  history  this  is  not  th« 
proper  place.  Here  a  very  slight  sketch  must  suffice ;  and  in  that 
sketch  prominence  will  be  given  to  such  points  as  may  enable  a 
reader  who  is  already  acquainted  with  the  general  course  of  events 
to  form  a  just  notion  of  the  character  of  the  man  on  whom  so  much 
depended. 

If  we  wish  to  arrive  at  a  correct  judgment  of  Pitt's  merits  and 
defects,  we  must  never  forget  that  he  belonged  to  a  peculiar  class 
of  statesmen,  and  that  he  must  be  tried  by  a  peculiar  standard.  It 
is  not  easy  to  compare  him  fairly  with  such  men  as  Ximcnes  and 
Sully,  Richelieu  and  Oxenstiern,  John  de  Witt  and  Warren 
Hastings.  The  means  by  which  those  politicians  governed  great 
communities  were  of  quite  a  different  kind  from  those  which  Pitt 
was  under  the  necessity  of  employing.  Some  talents,  which  they 
never  had  any  opportunity  of  showing  that  they  possessed,  were 
developed  in  him  to  an  extraordinary  degree.  In  some  qualities, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  which  they  owe  a  large  part  of  their  fame, 
he  was  decidedly  their  inferior.  They  transacted  business  in  their 
closets,  or  at  boards  where  a  few  confidential  councillors  sat.  It 
was  his  lot  to  be  born  in  an  age  and  in  a  country  in  which  parlia- 
mentary government  was  completely  established  ;  his  whole  training 
from  infancy  was  such  as  fitted  him  to  bear  a  part  in  parliamentary 
government ;  and,  from  the  prime  of  his  manhood  to  his  death,  all 
the  powers  of  his  vigorous  mind  were  almost  constantly  exerted  in 


I>\9solv« 

parlia 

ment, 

Marcb 

J78«' 


Retnniec 

for  Cam 

bridgt 

uni- 

versijj 

1784. 


PITT 


141 


♦he  work  of  pailiamentary  govprnmctit.  He  accordingly  became 
*lie  createst  master  of  the  who'.j  art  of  parliamentary  government 
■hat  has  ever  existed,  a  greater  than  Jlontagao  or  Walpole,  a 
"reater  than  his  father  Chatham  or  his  rival  Fox,  a  greater  than 
either  of  his  illustrious  successorj  Canning  and  Peel. 

Parliamentary  government,  Ul:c  every  other  contrivance  of  man, 
has  its  advantages  and  its  disadvantages.     On  the  advantages  there 
is  no  need  to  dilate.     The  history  of  England  during  the  hundred 
ami  seventy  years  which  have  elapsed  since  the  House  of  Commons 
became  the  most  powerful  body  in  the  state,  her  immense  and  still 
crowing  prosperity,  her  freedom,  her  tranquillity,  her  greatness  in 
arts,    in   sciences,    and   in   arms,    her   maritime   ascendency,   the 
marvels   of  her   public   credit,    her   American,    her  African,   her 
Australian,  her  Asiatic  empires,  sufficiently  prove  the  excellence  of 
li»r  institutions.       But   those   institutions,  though   excellent,  are 
assuredly  not  perfect.     Parliamentary  government  is  government 
by  speaking.     In  such  a  government,  the  power  rff  speaking  is  the 
most   highly  prized  of  all  the  qualities  which  a  politician  can 
Tiossess ;  and  that  power  may  exist,  in  the  highest  decree,  without 
ludgment,  without  fortitude,  without  skill  in  reading  the  characters 
of  men  or  the  signs  of  the  times,  without  any  knowledge  of  the 
rrinciples  of  legislation  or  of  political  economy,  and  without  any 
skill  in  diplomacy  or  in  the  administration  of  war.     Nay,  it  may 
well  haiJiicn  that  those  very  intellectual  qualities  which  give  a 
ijeculiar  charm  to  the  speeches  of  a  public  man  may  be  incompatible 
with  the  qualities  which  would  fit  him  to  meet  a  pressing  emer- 
ceuey  with  promptitude  and  firmness.     It  was  thus  with  Charles 
Townshend.     It  was  thus  with  Windham.  ,  It  was  a  privilege  to 
listen  to  those  accomplished  and   ingenious   orators.       But  in  a 
perilous  crisis  they  would  have  been  found  far  inferior  in  a"  the 
qualities  of  rulers  to  such  a  man  as  Oliver  Cromwell,  who  talked, 
nonsense,  or  as  William  the  Silent,  who  did  not  talk  at  all.     A\  hen 
T-arliamentary  government  is  established,  a  Charles  Town.shend  or 
11  Windham  will  almost   always  exercise  much  greater  inliuence 
than  such  men  as  the  great  Protector  of  England,  or  as  the  lounder 
of  the  Batavian  commonwealth.      In  such  a  government,  parlia- 
mentary talent,  though  quite  distinct  from  the  talents  of  a  good 
executive  or  judicial  officer,  will  bo  a  chief  qualification.lor  executive 
and  judicial  office.     From  the   Book  of  Dignities  a  curious  list 
might  be  made  out  of  chancellors  ignorant  of  the  principles  of 
equity,  and  first  lords  of  the  admiralty  ignorant  of  the  principles  of 


navigation,  of  colonial  ministers  who  could  not  repeat  the  names  or 
the  colonies,  of  lords  of  the  treasury  who  did  not  know  the  differ- 
ence  between  funded  and  unfunded  debt,  and  of  secretaries  of  the 
India  board  who  did  not  know  whether  the  Mahrattas  were  Moham- 
medans or  Hindus.  On  these  grounds,  some  persons,  incapatjle 
of  seeing  more  than  one  side  of  a  question,  have  pronounced  parlia- 
mentary government  a  positive  evil,  and  have  maintained  that  the 
administration  would  be  .greatly  improved  if  the  power,  now  eoter- 
cised  by  a  large  assembly,  were  transferred  to  a  single  person.  Men 
of  sense  will  probably  think  the  remedy  very  much  worse  than 
the  disease,  and  will  bo  of  opinion  that  there  would  bo  small  gain 
in  exchanging  Charles  Townshend  and  Windham  for  the  1  nnco  ot 
the  Peace,  or°the  poor  slave  and  dog  Steenie. 

Pitt  was  emphatically  the  man  of  parliamentarj-  government,  the 
type  of  his  class,  the  minion,  the  child,  the  spoiled  child,  of  t he 
House  of  Commons.     For  the  House  of  Commons  bo  had  a  heredi- 
tary, an  infantine  love.     Through  his  whole  boyhood  the  House  of 
Commons  was  never  oufof  his  thoughts,  or  out  of  the  Uioughts  ol 
his  instructors.     Keciting  at  his  father's  knee,  reading  Thucydides 
and  Cicero  into  English,  analysing  the  great  Attic  speeches  on  the 
Embassy  and  on  the  Crown,  he  was  constantly  in  training  for  tho 
connicts  of  the   House  of  Commons.      Ho  was  a  distmguishcd 
member  of  tlie  House  of  Commons  at  twentyono.      The  .ability 
which  ho  had  displayed  in  tho  House  of  Commons  made  him  the 
most  powerful  subjoct  in  Europe  before  ho  was  twenty-five.      It 
would   have  been   happy  for  himself  and  for  his  country  if  his 
elevation  had  been  deferred.     Eight  or  ten  years,  dunng  which  ho 
would  have  had  leisure  and  opportunity  for  reading  and  reflexion, 
for  foreign  travel,  for  social  intercourse  and  free  exchange  of  thought 
on  equal  terms  with  a  great  variety  of  companions,  would  have 
Bupi.lied  what,  without  any  fault  on  his  part,  was  wanting  to  his 
powerful  iutollect.     He  had  all  the  knowledge  that  he  could   bo 
expected  to  have-that  is  to  say,  all  tho  knowledge  that  a  man 
can  acquire  while  ho  is  a  student  at  Cambridge,  and  all  tho  know- 
ledge that  a  man  can  acquire  when  he  is  first  lord  of  the  treasury 
and  chancellor  of  tho  exchequer.     But  the  stock  of  general  mforma- 
tion  which  ho  brought  from  college,  extraordinary  Inr  a  boy,  vm 
far  inferior  to  what  Fox  possessed,  and  beggarly  when  compared 
with  the  massy,  tho  splendid,  tho  various  treasures  laid  ur.  in  tho 
lar"o  mind  of  Burke.      After  Pitt  became  minister,  he  had   no 
leisure  to  learn  more  than  w.as  necessary  for  tho  purposes  of  tlio 
d.ay  which  was  jiassing  over  him.      Wliat  was  neccRsary  for  thos» 
punioscs  such  a  man  could  ham  with  little  difficulty.      He  was 
au.Toiindcd  by  experienced  and  able  public  servants.     Ho  could  at 
any  moment  command  tlieir   bent   assistance.      From    the   stores 
wliicl    they    rrodueed   Uis    viirorous    mind   rapidly   coUcctca   tho 


materials  for  a  good  parliamentary  case;  and  that  was  enough. 
Le"islaiic.i  and  administration  were  with  him  secondary  matters. 
To^hc  work  of  framing  statutes,  of  negotiating  treaties,  of  organiz- 
ing fleets  and  armies,  of  sending  forth  expeditions,  he  gave  only 
the  leavings  of  his  time  and  the  dregs  of  his  fine  mtellect.  Ihe 
strength  and  sap  of  his  mind  were  all  drawn  in  a  different  direction. 
It  was  when  the  House  of  Commons  was  to  be  convinced  and  per- 
suaded that  he  put  forth  all  his  powers.  ,  .  .  ,  ^  ,-.■  „ , 
Of  those  powers  we  must  form  our  estimate  chiefly  from  tradition , 
for  of  all  the  eminent  speakers  of  the  last  age,  Pitt  has  suffered 
most  from  the  reporters.  Even  while  he  was  still  living,  critics 
remarked  that  his  eloquence  could  not  be  preserved,  that  ho  must 
bo  heard  to  be  appreciated.  They  more  than  once  applied  to  him 
the  sentence  in  which  Tacitus  describes  the  fate  of  a  senator  whoso 
rhetoric  was  admired  in  the  Augustan  age:  "Hatern  canorumillud 
ct  proflueus  cum  ipso  simul  exstinctum  est."  There  is,  however, 
abundant  evidence  that  nature  had  bestowed  on  Pitt  the  talents  oi 
a  great  orator ;  and  those  talents  had  been  developd  in  a  very 
peculiar  manner,  first  by  his  education,  and  secondly  by  the  high 
official  position  to  which  ho  rose  early,  and  in  which  he  passed  tho 
greater  part  of  his  public  life.  ,  ,  .       it 

At  his  first  appearance  in  parliament  he  showed  himself  supenot 
to  all  his  contemporaries  in  command  of  language.     He  could  pour 
forth  a  long  succession  of  round  and  stately  periods,  without  pre- 
meditationrwithout  ever  pausing  for  a  word,  without  ever  repeating 
a  word,  in  a  voice  of  silver  clearness,  and  with  a  pronunciation  so 
articulate  that  not  a  letter  was  slurred  over.    He  had  less  amplitude 
of  mind  and  less  richness  of  imagination  than  Burke,  less  ingenuity 
than  Windham,   less  wit  than  Sherid.an,   less  perfect  mastery  ol 
dialectical  fence  and  less  of  that  highest  sort  of  eloquence  wdiich 
consists  of  reason  and  passion  fused  together  than  Fox.     Yet  the 
almost  unanimous  judgment  of  those  who  were  in  the  habit  of 
listening  to  that  remarkable  race  of  men  placed  Pitt,  as  a  speaker, 
above  Burke,  above  Windham,  above  Sheridan,  and  not  below  tox. 
His  declamation  was  copious,  polished,  and  splendid      In  power  of 
sarcasm  ho  was  probably  not  surpassed  by  any  speaker,  ancient  or 
modern ;  and  of  this  formidable  weapon  he  made  merciless  use.     In 
two  parts  of  the  oratorical  art  which  are  of  the  highest  value  to  a 
minister  ot  state  he  was  singularly  expert.     No  man  knf  ^  ™tter 
how  to  be  luminous  or  how  to  be  obscure. ,,  When  he  wished  to  be 
understood,  he  never  failed  to  make  himself  understood.     He  could 
with  ease  present  to  his  audience,  not  perhaps  an  exact  or  profound, 
but  a  clear,  popular,  and  plausible  view  of  the  most  extensive  and 
complicated  subject.      Nothing  was  out  of  place;    nothing  was 
forgotten;  minute  details,  dates,  sums  of  money,  were  all  faithfully 
preserved  in  his  memory.     Even  intricate  questions  of  finance,  when 
explained  by  him,  seemed  clear  to  the  plainest  man  among  his 
hearers     On  the  other  hand,  when  he  did  not  wish  to  be  explicit,— 
and   no  man  who  is  at  tho  head  of  affairs  always  wishes  to  bo 
explicit,— ho  had  a  marvellous  power  of  saying  nothing  in  language 
which  loft  on  his  audience  the  impression  that  ho  had  said  a  gi-eat 
deal.     He  was  at  once  tho  only  man  who  could  open  a  budget  with- 
out notes,  and  the  only  man  who,  as  Windham  said,  could  speak 
that  most  elaborately  evasive  and  unmeaning  of  human  composi- 
tions, a  king's  speech,  without  premeditation.  

The  effect  of  oratory  will  always  to  a  great  extent  depend  on  tli 
character  of  the  orator.     There  perhaps  never  were  two  speaker 
whose  eloquence  had  more  of  what  may  bo  called  tho  ™ce    "ore  ol 
tho  flavour  imparted  by  moral  qualities,  than  Fox  and  Pitt.     J  no 
8  ee  hes  of  Fox'  owe  a  great  part  of  their  charm  to  that  warmth  and 
so  tncs"of  heart,  that  s^ymp.athy  with  human  snfl^er.ng, «  '-^t  -iJmira- 
tion  for  everything  great  and  beaut. fu,  and  that  hatred  of  cruelty 
and  injustice,  which  interest  and  delight  us  ^^«'' '"^'"^  "^°»^^,f^=, 
tivo  reports.     No  person,  on  the  other  hand,  could  hear  Pitt  without 
perceiving  him  to  be  a  man  of  high,  intrepid,  and  comnandinf 
snirit    proudly  conscious  of  his  own  rectitude  and  of  his  own 
IkcfuaTsuperiority.  incapable  of  the  low  vices  <?,  »- ,""  ^  ^^^j 
but  too  prone  to  feel  and  to  show  disdain      Prido,  iiidee,!       "»  '■'1 
the  whofe  man,  was  written  in  the  harsh   "«'|    '"j  f  ,^f  ''''    "^^ 
was  marked  by  tho  way  in  w.  ich  ho  w.alked.  m  which  he  sat,  la 
whch  ho  stood!  and,  above  all,  in  which  ho  bowved.     S"ch  pdo 
of  course   inflicted  many  wounds.     It  may  confidently  bo  nflirnied 
?hat  there  cannot  bo  found,  in  all  fhe  ten  thousand  invectives 
^rilt:;:'  gainst  Fox,  a  w.rd  indi>.ting  tliat     IS  den^^ 


Rlrntion— run.bcr  and,  lor  example,  iwm..m,  ...,>. .............     ■•-•--- 

rnucdriritaed  by  the  contempt  with  which  ho    roated  them    tm 
O^v  complained  in  print  of  their  wrongs      But  his  pride    though 
it  made    .in    bitterly  disliked  by  individuals,  in.sp.red  the   gient 
borof  Is  followers  in  parliament  ....d  throughout  the  country 

wTth  reject  and  eunllden  ce.  They  took  him  attus  own  ynl..al.on. 
They  saw  that  his  self-esteem  was  not  that  of  an  npstnrt  who  w.-i. 
.  idc  with  good  luck  and  with  applause,  and  who  if  fortuno 
,i,.'.l.  wnuhf  sink  from  arrogance  Into  abject  humility.  It  w« 
that  of  tho  magnanimous  man  so  Qucly  described  by  AristoUe  W 


B2 


PITT 


tho  Ethics,  of  tho  man  who  thinks  himself  worthy  of  great  things, 
being  in  truth  worthy.  It  sprang  from  a  consciousness  of  great 
powers  and  groat  virtues,  and  was  never  so  conspicuously  displayed 
as  in  the  midst  of  difficulties  and  dangers  which  would  have 
'unnerved  and  bowed  down  any  ordinary  mind.  It  was  closely 
connected,  too,  with  an  ambition  which  had  no  mixture  of  low 
cupidity.  There  was  something  noble  in  the  cynical  disdain  with 
which  the  mighty  minister  scattered  riches  and  titles  to  right  and 
<eft  among  those  who  valued  them,  while  he  spurned  them  out  c^f 
his  way.  Poor  himself,  he  was  surrounded  by  friends  on  whom  he 
had  bestowed  three  thousand,  six  thousand,  ten  thousand  a  year. 
Plain  Mister  himself,  he  had  made  more  lords  than  any  three 
ministers  that  had  preceded  him.  The  garter,  for  which  the  first 
jdukes  in  the  kingdom  were  coutanding,  waS  repeatedly  offered  to 
pim,  Slid  offtred  in  vain.  "^ 

Tho  correctness  of  his  private  life  added  much  to  the  dignity  of 
his  public  character.  In  the  relations  of  son,  brother,  uncle, 
master,  friend,  his  conduct  was  exemplary.  In  the  small  circle  of 
liis  intimate  associates  he  was  amiable,  alTectionate,  even  playful. 
They  lovod  him  sincerely  ;  they  regretted  him  Ion"  ;  and  they 
would  hai'dly  admit  that  he  who  was  so  kind  and  gentle  with  them 
could  bo  stern  and  haughty  with  others.  He  indulged,  indeed, 
somewhat  too  freely  in  wine,  which  he  had  early  been  directed  to 
take  as  a  medicine,  and  which  uso  had  made  a  necessary  of  life  to 
him.  But  it  was  very  seldom  that  any  indication  of  unduo  excess 
could  be  detected  in  hia  tones  or  gestures  ;  and,  in  truth,  two 
bottles  of  port  were  little  more  to  him  than  two  dishes  of  tea.  He 
had,  when  he  was  first  introduced  into  the  clubs  of  St  James's 
Street,  shown  a  strong  taste  for  play;  but  he  had  the  prudence  and 
the  resolution  to  stop  before  this  taste  had  acquired  the  strength 
of  habit.  From,  tho  passion  which  generally  exercises  the  most 
tyrannical  dominion  over  the  young  he  possessed  an  immunity, 
which  is  probably  to  be  ascribed  partly  to  his  tempe'ament  and 
partly  to  his  situation.  His  constitution  was  feeble  ;  he  was  very 
shy  ;  and  he  was  very  busy.  Tho  strictness  of  his  morals  furnished 
such  buffoons  as  Peter  Pindar  and  Captain  Morris  virith  an  inexhaust- 
ible theme  for  merriment  of  no  very  delicate  kind.  But  the  great 
body  of  the  middle  class  of  Englishmen  could  not  see  the  joke 
They  warmly  praised  the  young  statesman  for  commanding  his 
passions,  and  for  covering  his  frailties,  if  he  had  frailties,  with 
'Jecoroua  obscurity,  and  would  have  been  very  far  indeed  from 
thinking  better  of  him  if  he  had  vindicated  himself  from  the  taunts 
of  his  enemies  by  taking  under  his  protection  a  Nancy  Parsons  or 
a  Marianne  Clark. 
K'itron.  No  part  of  the  immense  popularity  which  Pitt  long  enjoyed  is  to 
tge  of  be  attributed  to  the  eulogies  of  wits  and  poets.  It  might  have  been 
letters  naturally  expected  that  a  man  of  genius,  of  learning,  of  taste,  an 
ttielart  orator  whose  diction  was  often  compared  to  that  of  Tully,  the  repre- 
sentative, too,  of  a  great  university,  would  have  taken  a  peculiar 
pleasure  in  befriending  eminent  writers  to  whatever  political  party 
they  might  have  belonged.  The  love  of  literature  had  induced 
'Augustus  to  heap  benefits  on  Pompeians,  Somers  to  be  the  pro- 
itector  of  nonjurors,  Harley  to  make  the  fortunes  of  Whigs.  But 
it  could  not  move  Pitt  to  show  any  favour  even  to  Pittites.  He 
was  doubtliss  right  in  thinking  that,  in  general,  poetry,  history, 
and  philosophy  ought  to  be  suffered,  like  calico  and  cutlery,  to  find 
their  proper  price  in  the  market,  and  that  to  teach  men  of  letters 
to  look  habitually  to  the  state  for  their  recompense  is  bad  for  the 
state  and  bad  for  letters.  Assuredly  nothing  can  be  more  absurd 
or  mischievous  than  to  waste  the  public  money  in  bounties  for  the 
purpose  of  inducing  people  who  ought  to  be  weighing  out  grocery 
or  measuring  out  drapery  to  write  bad  or  middling  books.  But, 
though  the  sound  rule  is  that  authors  should  be  left  to  be  remuner- 
ated oy  their  readers,  there  will,  in  every  generation,  be  a  few  ex- 
ceptions to  this  rule.  To  distinguish  these  special  cases  from  the 
mass  is  an  employment  well  worthy  of  the  faculties  of  i  great  and 
accomplished  ruler ;  and  Pitt  would  assuredly  have  had  little 
difficulty  in  finding  such  cases.  While  he  was  in  power,  the 
greatest  philologist  of  the  age,  his  own  contemporary  at  Cambridge, 
was  reduced  to  earn  a  livelihood  by  the  lowest  literary  drudgery, 
and  to  spencj  in  writing  squibs  for  the  Morning  Chronicle  years  to 
which  we  might  have  owed  an  all  but  perfect  text  of  the  whole 
tragic  and  comic  drama  of  Athens.  The  greatest  historian  of  the 
age,  forced  by  poverty  to  leave  his  country,  completed  his  immortal 
work  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Leman.  The  political  heterodoxy  of 
Torsou  and  the  religious  heterodoxy  of  Gibbon  may  perhaps 
be  pleaded  In  defence  of  the  minister  by  whom  those  eminent 
mei^were  neglected.  But  there  were  other  cases  in  which  no 
such  excuse  could  be  set  up.  Scarcely  had  Pitt  obtained  posses- 
sion of  unbounded  power  when  an  aged  writer  of  the  highest 
eminence,  who  had  made  very  little  by  his  writings,  and  who 
»vas  sinking  into  tlie  grave  under  a  load  of  infirmities  and  sorrows, 
wanted  five  or  six  hundred  pounds  to  enable  him,  during  the 
winter  or  two  which  might  still  remain  to  him,  to  draw  his  breath 
more  easily  in  the  soft  climate  of  Italy.  Not  a  faithiiig  wa.'j  to 
be  obtained  ;  antl  before  Ohiistmas  tlie  anther  of  the  English 
UiMoiiary  and  oi  liio  Lives  of  the  J'ocla  liad  gasped  his  last  in  the 


river  fog  and  coal  smoke  of  Fleet  Street.  A  few  months  after  tho 
death  of  Johnson  appeared  the  Task,  incompa.'ably  the  best  poem 
that  any  Englishman  then  living  had  produced — a  poem,  too, 
which  could  hardly  fail  to  excite  in  a  well-constituted  mind  a 
feeling  of  esteem  and  compassion  for  the  poet,  a  man  of  genius  and 
virtue,  whose  means  were  scanty,  and  whom  the  most  cruel  of  all 
the  calamities  incident  to  humanity  had  ma^e  incapable  of  support- 
ing himself  by  vigorous  and  sustained  exertion.  Nowhere  had 
Chatham  been  praised  with  more  enthusiasm,  or  in  verse  more 
worthy  of  the  subject,  than  in  the  TcLsk.  The  son  of  Chatham, 
however,  contented  himself  with  reading  and  admiring  the  book, 
and  left  the  author  to  starve.  The  nension  which  long  after  enabled 
poor  Cowper  to  close  his  melancholy  life  unmolested  by  duns  and 
bailiffs  was  obtained  for  him  by  the  strenuous  kindness  of  Lord 
Spencer.  What  a  contrast  between  the  way  in  which  Pitt  acted 
towards  Johnson  and  the  way  in  which  Lord  Grey  acted  towards 
his  political  enemy  Scott,  when  Scott,  worn  out  by  misfortune  and 
disease,  was  advised  to  try  the  effect  of  the  Italian  air  !  What  a 
contrast  between  the  way  in  which  Pitt  acted  towards  Cowper  and 
the  way  in  which  Burke,  a  poor  man  and  out  of  place,  acted  towards 
Crabbe !  Even  Dundas,  wHo  made  no  pretensions  to  literary  taste, 
and  was  content  to  be  considered  as  a  hard-headed  and  somewliat 
coarse  man  of  business,  was,  when  compared  with  his  eloquent  and 
classically  educated  friend,  a  llsecenas  or  a  Leo.  Dundas  made 
Burns  an  exciseman,  with  seventy  pounds  a  year  ;  'and  this  was 
more  than  Pitt,  during  his  long  tenure  of  power,  did  for  tho 
encouragement  of  letters.  Even  those  who  may  think  that  it  is, 
in  general,  no  part  of  the  duty  of  a  Governmei.t  to  reward  literary 
merit,  will  hardly  deny  that  a  Government  which  has  much 
lucrative  church  preferment  in  its  gift  is  bound,  in  distributing 
that  preferment,  not  to  overlook  divines  whose  writings  have 
rendered  great  service  to  the  cause  of  religion.  But  it  seems  never 
to  have  occurred  to  Pitt  that  he  lay  under  any  such  obligation. 
All  the  theological  works  of  all  the  numerous  bishops  wdiom  he 
made  and  translated  are  not,  when  put  together,  worth  fifty  pagci 
of  the  Horss  Paulinm,  of  the  Natural  Theology,  or  of  the  View 
of  the  Evidences  of  Christianity.  But  on  Paley  the  all-powerful 
minister  never  bestowed  the  smallest  benefice.  Artists  Pitt  treated 
as  contemptuously  as  writers.  For  painting  he  did  simply  nothing. 
Sculptors  who  had  been  selected  to  execute  monuments  voted  by 
parliament  had  to  haunt  the  ante-chambers  of  the  treasury  during 
many  years  before  they  could  obtain  a  farthing  from  him.  One 
of  them,  after  vainly  soliciting  the  minister  for  payment  during 
fourteen  years,  had  the  courage  to  present  a  memorial  to  the  king, 
and  thus  obtained  tardy  and  ungracious  justice.  Architects  it  was 
absolutely  necessary  to  employ  ;  and  the  worst  that  could  be  found 
seem  to  have  been  employed.  Not  a  single  fine  public  building  of 
any  kind  or  in  any  style  was  erected  during  his  long  administra- 
tion. It  may  be  confidently  affirmed  that  no  ruler  whose  abilities 
and  attainments  would  bear  any  comparison  with  hia  has  ev?r 
shown  such  cold  disdain  for  what  is  excellent  in  arts  and  lettei's. 

His  first  administration  lasted  seventeen  years.  That  long 
period  is  divided  by  a  strongly  marked  line  into  two  almost  exactly 
equal  parts.  The  first  part  ended  and  the  second  began  in  the 
autumn  of  1792.  Thuoughout  both  parts  Pitt  displayed  in  tho 
liighest  degree  the  talents  of  a  parliamentary  leader.  During  the 
first  part  he  was  a  fortunate  and  in  many  respects  a  skilful 
administrator.  With  the  difficulties  which  he  had  to  encounter 
during  the  second  part  he  was  altogether  incapable  of  contending ; 
but  his  eloquence  and  his  perfect  mastery  of  the  tactics  of  the  Housa 
of  Commons  concealed  his  incapacity  from  the  multitude. 

The  eight  years  which  followed  the  general  election  of  1784  were 
as  tranquil  and  prosperous  as  any  eight  years  in  the  whole  history 
of  England.  Neighbouring  nations  which  had  lately  been  in  arms 
against  her,  and  which  had  flattered  themselves  that,  in  losing  her 
American  colonies,  she  had  lost  a  chief  source  of  her  wealth  and 
of  her  power,  saw.  With  wonder  and  vexation,  that  she  was  more 
wealthy  and  more  powerful  than  ever.  Her  trade  increased.  Her 
manufactures  flourished.  Her  exchequer  was  full  to  overflowing. 
Very  idle  apprehensions  were  generally  entertained  that  the  public 
debt,  though  much  less  than  a  third  of  the  debt  which  we  now 
bear  with  ease,  would  be  found  too  heavy  for  tho  strength  of  the 
nation.  Those  apprehensions  might  not  perhaps  have  been  easily 
quieted  by  reason.  But  Pitt  quieted  them  by  a  juggle.  He  suc- 
ceeded in  pursuading  first  himself  and  then  the  whole  nation,  his 
opponents  included,  that  a  new  sinking  fund,  which,  so  far  as  it 
differed  from  former  sinking  funds,  differed  for  the  worse,  would, 
by  virtue  of  some  mysterious  power  of  propagation  belonging  to 
money,  put  into  the  pocket  of  the  public  creditor  great  sums  not 
taken  out  of  the  pocket  of  the  tax-payer.  The  country,  terrified 
by  a  danger  wliich  was  no  danger,  hailed  with  delight  and  bound- 
less confidence  a  remedy  which  was  no  remedy.  The  minister  was 
almost  universally  extolled  as  the  greatest  of  financici-s.  Mcau- 
wiiile  both  the  ijiauches  of  the  house  of  Bourbon  found  tliat 
England  was  as  formidable  an  antagonist  as  she  had  ever  been. 
Fr.ince-liad  formed  a  plan  for  reducing  Holland  to  vassalage.  I5ul 
England   interjioscd,  and  France  receded.     Spain  interrupted  by 


PITT 


i43 


violence  the  trade  of  our  merchants  with  the  regions  near  the 
Oregon.  But  England  armed,  and  Spain  receded.  Within  the 
islan'i  there  was  profound  tranquillity.  The  king  was,  for  the  first 
time,  popular.  IJuring  the  twenty-three  years  whicL  had  followed 
his  accession  he  had  not  been  loved  by  his  subjects.  His  domestic 
virtues  werff  acknowledged.  But  it  was  generally  thought  that 
the  good  qualities  by  which  he  was  distinguished  in  private  life 
were  wanting  to  his  political  character.  As  a  sovereign  he  was 
resentful,  unforgiving,  stubborn,  cunning.  Under  his  rule  the 
country  had  sustained  cruel  disgraces  and  disasters  ;  and  every  one 
of  those  disgraces  and  disasters  was  imputed  to  his  strong  anti- 
pathies, and  to  his  perverse  obstinacy  in  the  wrong.  One  states- 
man after  another  complained  that  he  had  been  induced  hy  royal 
caresses,  entreaties,  and  promises  to  undertake  the  direction  of 
affairs  at  a  difficult  conjuncture,  and  that  as  soon  as  he  had,  not 
without  sullying  his  fame  and  alienating  his  best  friends,  served 
the  turn  for  which  he  was  wanted,  his  ungrateful  master  began  to 
intrigue  against  him  and  to  canvass  a^inst  him.  Grenville, 
Rockingham,  Chatham — men  of  widely  different  characters,  but  all 
three  upright  and  high-spirited — agreed  in  thinking  that  the  prince 
under  whom  they  had  successively  held  the  highest  place  in  the 
Government  was  one  of  the  most  insincere  of  mankind.  His  con- 
fidence was  reposed,  they  said,  not  in  those  known  and  responsible 
counsellors  to  whom  he  had  delivered  the  seals  of  office,  but  in 
secret  advisers  who  stole  up  the  back  stairs  into  his  closet.  In 
parliament  his  ministers,  while  defending  themselves  against  the 
attacks  of  the  opposition  in  front,  were  perpetually,  at  his  instiga- 
tion, assailed  on  the  flank  or  in  the  rear  ny  a  vile  band  of  mercen- 
aries who  called  themselves  his  friends.  These  men  constantly, 
while  in  passession  of  lucrative  places  in  his  service,  spoke  and 
voted  against  bills  which  he  had  authorized  the  first  lord  of  the 
treasury  or  the  secretary  of  state  to  bring  in.  But  from  the  day 
on  which  Pitt  was  placed  at  the  head  of  aflairs  there  was  an  end 
of  secret  influence.  His  hatighty  and  aspiring  spirit  was  not  to  be 
satisfied  with  the  mere  show  of  power.  Any  attempt  to  undermine 
him  at  court,  any  mutinous  movement  among  his  followers  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  was  certain  to  be  at  once  put  down.  He  had 
only  to  tender  his  resignation  and  he  could  dictate  his  own  terms. 
For  he,  and  he  alone,  stood  between  the  king  and  the  coalition. 
He  was  therefore  little  less  than  mayor  of  the  palace.  The  nation 
loudly  applauded  the  king  for  having  the  wisdom  to  repose  entire 
confidence  in  so  excellent  a  minister.  His  Majesty's  private  virtues 
now  began  to  produce  their  full  effect.  He  was  generally  regarded 
as  the  model  of  a  respectable  country  gentleman,  honest,  good- 
natured,  sober,  religious.  He  rose  early,  he  dined  temperately, 
he  was  strictly  faithful  to  his  wife,  he  never  missed  church,  and  at 
church  he  never  missed  a  response.  His  people  heartily  prayed 
that  he  might  long  reign  over  them  ;  and  they  prayed  the  more 
heartily  because  his  virtues  were  set  off  to  the  best  advantage  by 
the  vices  and  follies  of  the  prince  of  Wales,  who  lived  in  close 
intJmacy  with  the  chiefs  of  the  Opposition. 
How  strong  this  feelin"  was  in  the  public  mind  appeared  signally 
■"Ti  on  one  great  occasion.  In  the  autumn  of  1788  the  king  became 
'•  insane.  The  Opposition,  eager  for  office,  committed  'the  great 
indiscretion  of  assertin"  that  the  heir  apparent  had,  by  the  funda- 
mental laws  of  England,  a  right  to  be  regent  with  the  full  powers 
of  royalty.  Pitt,  on  the  other  hand,  maintained  it  to  bo  the  con- 
stitutional doctrine  that  when  a  sovereign  is,  by  reason  of  infancy, 
disease,  or  absence,  incapable  of  exercising  the  regal  functions,  it 
belongs  to  the  estates  of  the  realm  to  determine  who  shall  be  the 
vicegerent,  and  with  what  portion  of  the  executive  authority  such 
vicegerent  shall  bo  entrusted.  A  long  and  violent  contest  followed, 
in  wTiich  Pitt  was  supported  by  the  great  body  of  the  people  with 
as  much  enthusla.sm  as  during  the  first  months  of  his  administra- 
tion. Tories  with  one  voice  applauded  him  for  defending  the  sick- 
bed of  a  virtuous  and  unhappy  sovereign  against  a  disloyal  faction 
and  an  undutiful  son.  Not  a  few  Whigs  applauded  him  for  assert- 
ing the  authority  of  parliaments,  and  the  principles  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, in  opposition  to  a  doctrine  which  seemed  to  have  too  much 
affinity  with  the  servile  theory  of  indefeasible  hereditary  right. 
The  middle  class,  always  zealous  on  the  side  of  decency  and  the 
domestic  virtues,  looked  forward  with  dismay  to  a  reign  resem- 
bling that  of  Charles  II.  The  palace,  which  had  now  been,  during 
thirty  years,  the  pattern  of  an  English  homo,  would  be  a  public 
nuisance,  a  school  of  profligacy.  To  tho^good  king's  repast  of  mutton 
and  lemonade,  despatched. at  three  o'clock,  would  succeed  midnight 
banquets,  from  which  the  guests  would  be  carried  homo  speechless. 
To  the  backgammon  board  at  which  the  good  king  played  lora  little 
silver  with  his  equerries  would  succeed  faro  tables  from  which 
yonne  imtricians  who  had  sat  down  rich  would  rise  up  bcgRars. 
The  drawing-room,  from  which  the  frown  of  the  queen  had  repelled 
a  whole  generation  of  frail  beauties,  would  now  bo  again  what  it 
had  been  in  the  days  of  Barbara  Pnlmcr  and  Louisa  do  Querounllle. 
Nay,  severely  as  tno  public  reprobated  the  prince's  many  illicit 
att'iclimenta,  his  one  virtuous  attachment  was  reprobated  more 
aevoroly  still.  Even  in  grave  and  pious  circles  his  Protestant 
misticiiaes  gave  less  scandal  than  his  Popinh  wifo     That  ho  must 


be  regent  nobody  ventured  to  deny.  But  he  and  his  friends  were 
so  unpopular  that  Pitt  could,  with  general  approbation,  propose 
to  limit  the  powera  of  the  regent  by  restrictions  to  which  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  subject  a  prince  beloved  and  trusted  by 
the  country.  Some  interested  men,  fully  expecting  a  change  ol 
administration,  went  over  to  the  Opposition.  But  the  majority, 
purified  by  these  desertions,  closed  its  ranks,  and  presented  a  more 
firm  array  than  ever  to  the  enemy.  In  every  division  Pitt  was 
victorious.  When  at  length,  after  a  stormy  interregnum  of  thrco 
months,  it  was  announced,  on  tho  very  eve  of  the  inauguration  of 
the  regent,  that  the  king  was  himself  again,  tho  nation  was  wild 
with  delight.  On  the  evening  of  tho  day  on  which  His  Majesty 
resumed  his  functions  a  spontaneous  illumination,  the  most  general 
that  had  ever  been  seen  in  England,  brightened  tho  whole  vast 
space  from  Highgate  to  Tooting,  and  from  Hammersmith  to 
Greenwich.  On  the  day  on  which  he  returned  thanks  in  the 
cathedral  of  his  capital  all  the  horses  and  carriages  within  a 
hundred  miles  of  London  were  too  few  for  tho  multitudes  which 
flocked  to  see  him  pass  through  the  streets.  A  second  illumination 
followed,  which  was  even  superior  to  the  first  in  magnificence 
Pitt  with  difficulty  escaped  from  the  tumultuous  kindness  of  «n 
innumerable  multitude  which  insisted  on  drawing  his  coach  from 
St  Paul's  Churchyard  to  Downing  Street.  This  was  the  moment 
at  which  his  fame  and  fortune  may  be  said  to  have  reached  the 
zenith.  His  influence  in  the  closet  was  as  great  as  that  of  Carr  or 
Villiers  had  been.  His  dominion  over  the  parliament  was  more 
absolute  than  that  of  Walpole  or  Pelham  had  been.  He  was  at  the 
same  time  as  high  in  the  favour  of  the  populace  as  ever  Wilkes  or 
Sacheverell  hid  been.  Nothing  did  more  to  raise  his  character 
than  his  noble  poverty.  It  was  well  known  that,  if  he  had  been 
dismissed  from  office  after  more  than  five  years  of  boundless  power, 
he  would  hardly  have  carried  out  with  him  a  sum  sufficient  to 
furnish  tho  set  of  chambers  in  which,  as  he  cheerfully  declared, 
he  meant  to  resume  the  practice  of  the  law.  His  admirers,  how- 
ever, were  by  no  means  disposed  to  suffer  him  to  depend  on  daily 
toil  for  his  daily  bread.  The  voluntary  contributions  which  wei« 
awaiting  his  acceptance  in  the  city  of  London  alone  would  have 
sufficed  to  make  him  a  rich  man.  But  it  may  be  doubted  whether 
his  liaughty  spirit  would  have  stooped  to  accept  a  provision  so 
honourably  earned  and  so  honourably  bestowed. 

To  such  a  height  of  power  and  glory  had  this  extraordinary  man 
risen  at  twenty-nine  years  of  age.  And  now  the  tide  was  on  tho 
turn.  Only  ten  days  after  the  triumphant  procession  to  St  Paul's, 
the  states-general  of  France,  after  an  interval  of  a  hundred  and 
seventy-four  years,  met  at  Veisailles. 

The  nature  of  the  great  Revolution  which  followed  was  long  very  Freneli 
imperfectly  understood  in  this  country.  Burko  saw  much  further  Revoln 
than  any  of  his  contemporaries  ;  but  whatever  his  sagacity  dcscri»'d  tion. 
was  refracted  and  discoloured  by  his  passions  and  his  imagination. 
More  than  three  years  elapsed  before  the  principles  of  the  English 
administration  underwent  any  material  change.  Nothing  could 
as  yet  be  milder  or  more  strictly  constitutional  than  the  minister's 
domestic  policy.  Not  a  single  act  indicating  an  arbitrary  ten. per 
or  a  jealousy  of  the  people  could  be  imputed  to  him  H"  h.i'f 
never  applied  to  parliament  for  any  extraordinarj  powera.  He 
iad  never  used  with  harshness  the  ordinary  powers  cntrustj-d  by 
the  constitution  to  the  executive  Government.  Not  a  slngl"  state 
prosecution  which  would  even  now  bo  called  oppressive  had  been 
instituted  by  him.  Indeed,  the  only  oppressive  stoto  piosccution 
instituted  during  the  first  eight  years  of  his  administration  was 
that  of  Stockdalo,  which  is  to  be  attributed,  not  to  the  Government, 
but  to  ho  chiefs  of  tho  Opposition  In  oflice,  Pitt  had  rcdeeini-d  tlia 
pledges  which  he  had,  at  his  entrance  into  public  life,^ given  to  the 
supporters  of  parliamentary  reform.  Ho  had,  in  1786,  brought 
forward  a  judicious  plan  for  tho  Improvement  of  th»  rcprcscntativ* 
system,  and  had  prevailed  on  tho  king,  not  only  to  refrain  from 
talking  against  that  plan,  but  to  recommend  it  to  tho  Iloases  in 
a  speech  from  the  throne.'  This  nttiinpt  failed  ;  but  there  can  bo 
little  doubt  that,  if  tho  French  Rcvoluliou  had  not  produced  a 
violent  reaction  of  public  feeling,  Pitt  would  have  ncrformed,  with 
little  difliculty  and  no  danger,  that  great  work  which,  at  o  InlT 
period.  Lord  Grey  could  accomplish  only  by  means  which  for  a 
time  loosened  the  very  foundations  of  tho  commonwealth.  When 
tho  atrocities  of  the  slave  trade  wore  first  brought  under  the  con- 
sidcration  of  parliament,  no  abolitionist  was  nioro  zealous  than  Pilt. 
When  sickness  prevented  Wilborforco  from  appearing  in  public, 
hia  place  was  most  efficiently  supplied  by  his  friend  the  minister. 
A  humane  bill,  which  mitigated  the  horrors  of  the  middle  pas.vigr, 
was,  in  1788,  carried  Ijy  the  eloquence  and  determined  spirit  ol 
Pitt,  In  spilu  of  the  opposition  of  some  of  his  own  oollongucs  ;  and 
it  ought  always  to  bo  rcmenibcred  to  his  honour  that,  in  order  to 
carry  that  bill,  ho  kept  tho  Houses  sitting,  in  siiito  of  many 
murmurs,  long  after  the  business  of  tlio  Oovernment  had  been  done 

1  Tho  tpocrh  with  which  tho  klnR  or«nra  tho  KC»lon  of  1785  concluOcI  wlin  an 
ajMufknco  Ihit  Htii  Majcaty  would  tiiaitlly  C'>tirui  In  ovory  mowun)  whicli  couM 
tond  to  acniro  tho  Iruo  princiiilc*  of  Itio  conntltu'.lon.  Tlieae  woitU  were  ai  the 
Umo  uadoralood  to  r«for  to  Plu'a  Rolonn  UlU. 


,144 


PITT 


and  tiie  Appropriation  Act  passed.  In  1791  he  cordially  con- 
curred with  Fox  in  maintaining  the  sound  constitutional  doctrine 
that  an  impeachment  is  not  terminated  by  a  dissolution.  In  the 
course  of  the  same  year  the  two  great  rivals  contended  side  by  side 
in  a  far  more  important  cause.  They  are  fairly  entitled  to  divide 
the  high  honour  of  having  added  to  our  statute-book  the  inestimable 
Jaw  which  places  the  liberty  of  the  press  under  the  protection  of 
juries.  On  one  occasion,  and  one  alone,  Pitt,  during  the  first  half 
of  his  long  administration,  acted  in  a  manner  unworthy  of  an  en- 
lightened Whig.  In  the  debate  on  the  Test  Act,  he  stooped  to 
gratify  the  master  whom  he  served,  the  university  which  he  repre- 
sented, and  the  great  body  of  clergymen  and  country  gentlemen  on 
whose  support  he  rested,  by  talking,  with  little  heartiness  indeed, 
and  with  no  asperify,,  the  language  of  a  Tory.  With  this  single 
exception,  his  conduct  from  the  end  of  1783  to  the  middle  of  1792 
was  that  of  an  honest  friend  of  civil  and  religious  liberty. 

Nor  did  anything,  during  that  period,  indicate  that  he  loved  war, 
or  harboured  any  malevolent  feeling  against  any  neighbouring 
nation.  Those  French  writers  who  have  represented  him  as  a 
Hannibal  sworn  in  childhood  by  his  father  to  bear  eternal  hatred 
to  France,  as  having,  by  mysterious  intrigues  and  lavish  bribes, 
instigated  the  leading  Jacobins  to  commit  those  excesses  which 
dishonoured  the  Revolution,  as  having  been  the  real  author  of  the 
first  coalition,  know  nothing  pf  his  character  or  of  his  history.  So 
far  was  he  from  being  a  deadly  enemy  to  France  that  his  laudable 
attempts  to  bring  about  a  closer  connexion  with  that  country  by 
means  of  a  wise  and  liberal  treaty  of  commerce  brought  on  him  the 
severe  censure  of  the  Opposition.  He  was  told  in  the  House  of 
Commons  that  he  was  a  aegenerate  son,  and  that  his  partiality  for 
the  hereditary  foes  of  our  island  was  enough  to  make  his  great 
father's  bones  stir  under  the  pavement  of  the  Abbey. 
Its  in-  And  this  man,  whose  name,  if  he  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  die 

8uence  in  1792,  would  now  have  been  associated  with  peace,  with  freedom, 
hi  Eng-  with  philanthropy,  with  temperate  reform,  with  mild  and  constitu- 
Ush  poll-  tional  administration,  lived  to  associate  his  name  with  arbitrary 
Bcs.  government,  with  harsh  laws  harshly  executed,  with  alien  bills,  with 
gagging  bills,  with  suspensions  of  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act,  with 
cruel  punishments  inflicted  on  some  political  agitators,  with  un- 
justifiable prosecutions  instituted  against  others,  and  with  the 
most  costly  and  most  sanguinary  wars  of  modern  times.  He  lived 
to  be  held  up  to  obloijuy  as  the  stern  oppressor  of  England,  and 
the  indefatigable  disturber  of  Europe.  Poets,  contrasting  his 
earlier  with  his  later  years,  likened  him  sometimes  to  the  apostle 
who  kissed  in  order  to  betray,  and  sometimes  to  the  evil  angels  who 
kept  not  their  first  estate.  A  satirist  of  great  genius  introduced 
the  fiends  of  famine,  slaughter,  and  fire,  proclaiming  that  they  had 
received  their  commission  from  one  whose  name  was  formed  of  four 
letters,  and  promising  to  give  their  employer  ample  proofs  of  grati- 
tude. Famine  would  gnaw  the  multitude  till  they  should  rise  up 
against  him  in  madness.  The  demon  of  slaughter  would  impel 
them  to  tear  him  from  limb  to  limb.  But  fire  boasted  that  she  alone 
could  reward  him  as  he  deserved,  and  that  she  would  cling  round 
him  to  all  eternity.  By  the  French  press  and  the  French  tribune 
every  crime  that  disgraced  and  every  calamity  that  afHicted  France 
was  ascribed  to  the  monster  Pitt  and  his  guineas.  While  the 
Jacobins  were  dominant  it  was  he  who  had  corrupted  the  Gironde, 
who  had  raised  Lyons  and  Bordeaux  against  the  Convention,  who 
had  suborned  Paris  to  assassinate  Lepelletier,  and  Cecilia  Regnault 
to  assassinate  Robespierre.  When  the  Thermidorian  reaction  came, 
all  the  atrocities  of  the  Reign  of  Terror  were  imputed  to  him. 
Collot  D'Herbois  and  Fouquier  Tinville  had  been  his  pensioners. 
It  was  he  who  had  hired  the  murderers  of  September,  who  had 
dictated  the  pamphlets  of  Marat  and  the  carmagnoles  of  Barere, 
who  had  paid  Lebon  to  deluge  Arras  with  blood  and  Carrier  to 
choke  the  Loire  with  corpses. 

The  truth  is  that  he  liked  neither  war  nor  arbitrary  government. 
He  was  a  loVer  of  peace  and  freedom,  driven,  bj  a  stress  against 
which  it  was  hardly  possible  for  any  will  or  any  intellect  to  struggle, 
out  of  the  course  to  which  his  inclinations  pointed,  and  for  which 
his  abilities  and  acquirements  fitted  him,  and  forced  into  a  policy 
repugnant  to  his  feelings  and  unsuited  to  his  talents. 

The  charge  of  apostasy  is  grossly  unjust.  A  man  ought  no  more 
to  be  called  an  apostate  because  his  opinions  alter  with  the  opinions 
of  the  great  body  of  his  contemporaries  than  he  ought  to  bo  called 
an  Oriental  traveller  because  he  is  always  going  round  from  west  to 
east  with  the  globe  and  everything  that  is  upon  it.  Between  the 
spring  of  1789  and  the  close  of  1792  the  public  mind  of  England 
underwent  a  great  change.  If  the  change  of  Pitt's  sentiments 
attracted  peculiar  notice,  it  was  not  because  he  changed  more  than 
his  neighbours,  for  in  fact  he  changed  less  than  most  of  them,  but 
tecause  his  position  was  far  more  conspicuous  than  theirs,  because 
he  was,  till  Bonaparte  appeared,  the  individual  who  filled  the 
greatest  space  in  the  eyes  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  civilized  world. 
During  a  short  time  the  nation,  and  Pitt  as  one  of  the  nation, 
looked  with  interest  and  approbation  on  the  French  Revolntion. 
But  soon  vast  confiscations,  the  violent  sweeping  away  of  ancient 
institutions,   the  domination  of  clubs,  the   barbarities  of  mobs 


maddened  by  famine  and  hatred,  produced  a  reaction  here.  Tlic 
court,  the  nobility,  the  gentry,  the  clergy,  the  nianufiicturers,  the 
merchants,  in  short  nineteen-twentieths  of  those  who  had  good 
roofs  over  their  heads  and  good  coats  on  their  backs,  became  eager 
intolerant  Antijacobins.  This  feeling  was  at  least  as  strong  among 
the  minister's  adversaries  as  among  his  supporters.  Fox  in  vain 
attempted  to  restrain  his  followers.  All  his  genius,  all  his  vast  ' 
personal  influence,  could  not  prevent  them  from  rising  up  against 
him  in  general  mutiny.  Burke  set  the  example  of  revolt ;  and 
Burke  was  in  no  longtime  joined  by  Portland,  Spencer,  Fitzwilliam, 
Loughborough,  Carlisle,  Malmesbury,  Windham,  Elliot.  In  th? 
House  of  Commons  the  followers  of  the  great  Whig  statesman  and 
orator  diminished  from  about  a  hundred  and  sixty  to  fifty.  In  the 
House  of  Lords  he  had  but  ten  or  twelve  adherents  left.  There  can 
be  no  doubt  that  there  would  have  been  a  similar  mutiny  on  the 
ministerial  benches,  if  Pitt  had  obstinately  resisted  the  general 
wish.  Pressed  at  once  by  his  master  and  by  his  colleagues,  by  old 
friends  and  by  old  opponents,  he  abandoned,  slowly  and  reluctantly, 
the  policy  which  wiis  dear  to  his  heart.  He  laboured  hard  to 
avert  the  European  war.  When  the  European  war  broke  out,  he 
still  flattered  himself  that  it  would  not  be  necessary  for  thin 
country  to  take  either  side.  In  the  spring  of  1792  he  congratu- 
lated the  parliament  on  the  prospect  of  long  and  profound  peace, 
and  proved  his  sincerity  by  proposing  large  remissions  of  taxation. 
Down  to  the  tnd  of  that  year  he  continued  to  cherish  the  hope 
that  England  might  be  able  to  preserve  neutrality.  But  the 
passions  which  raged  on  both  sides  of  the  Channel  were  not  to  he 
restrained.  The  republicans  who  ruled  France  were  inflamed  by  a 
fanaticism  resembling  that  of  the  Mussulmans,  who,  with  the  Koran 
in  one  hand  and  the  sword  in  the  other,  went  forth  conquering  and 
conveidng,  eastward  to  the  Bay  of  Bengal,  and  westward  to  the 
Pillars  of  Hercules.  The  higher  and  middle  classes  of  England 
were  animated  by  zeal  not  less  fiery  than  that  of  the  crusaders  who 
raised  the  cry  of  Deus  vult  at  Clermont.  The  impulse  which  drove 
the  two  nations  to  a  collision  was  not  to  be  arrested  by  the  abilities 
or  by  the  authority  of  any  single  man.  As  Pitt  was  in  front  of 
his  fellows,  and  towered  high  above  them,  he  seemed  to  lead  them. 
But  in  fact  he  was  violentlj  pushed  on  by  them,  and,  had  he  held 
back  but  a  little  more  than  he  did,  would  have  been  thrust  out  of 
their  way  or  trampled  under  their  feet. 

He  yielded  to  the  current ;  and  from  that  day  his  misfortunes 
began.  The  truth  is  that  there  were  only  two  consistent  courees 
before  him.  Since  he  did  not  choose  to  oppose  himself,  side  by 
side  with  Fox,  to  the  public  feeling,  he  should  have  taken  the 
advice  of  Burkie,  and  should  have  availed  himself  of  that  feeling  to 
the  full  extent.  If  it  was  impossible  to  preserve  peace,  he  should 
have  adopted  the  only  policy  which  could  lead  to  victory.  He 
should  have  proclaimed  a  holy  war  for  religion,  morality,  property, 
order,  public  law,  and  should  have  thus  opposed  to  the  Jacobins 
an  energy  equal  to  their  own.  Unhappily  he  tried  to  find  a  middle 
path  ;  and  he  found  one  which  united  all  that  was  worst  in  both 
extremes.  He  went  to  war  ;  but  he  would  not  understand  the  War 
peculiar  character  of  that  war.  He  was  obstinately  blind  to  the  poliij 
plain  fact  that  he  was  contending  against  a  state  which  was  also  a 
sect,  and  that  the  new  quarrel  between  England  and  France  was  of 
quite  a  difl'erent  kind  from  the  old  quarrels  about  colonies  in 
America  and  fortresses  in  the  Netherlands.  He  had  to  combat 
frantic  enthusiasm,  boundless  ambition,  restless  activity,  the 
wildest  and  most  audacious  spirit  of  innovation  ;  and  he  acted  as  if 
he  had  had  to  deal  with  the  harlots  and  fops  of  the  old  court  of 
Versailles,  with  Madame  de  Pompadour  and  the  Abbe  de  Bemis. 
It  was  pitiable  to  hear  him,  year  after  year,  proving  to  an  ad- 
miring audience  that  the  wicked  republic  was  exhausted,  that  she 
could  not  hold  out,  that  her  credit  was  gone,  that  her  assignati 
were  not  worth  more  than  the  paper  of  which  they  were  made, — as 
if  credit  was  necessary  to  a  government  of  which  the  principle  was 
rapine,  as  if  Alboin  could  not  turn  Italy  into  a  desert  till  he  had 
negotiated  a  loan  at  five  per  cent.,  as  if  the  exchequer  bills  of  Attila 
had  been  at  par.  It  was  impossible  that  a  man  who  so  completely 
mistook  the  nature  of  a  contest  could  carry  on  that  contest  suc- 
cessfully. Great  as  Pitt's  abilities  were,  his  military  administra- 
tion was  that  of  a  driveller.  He  was  at  the  head  of  a  nation 
engaged  in  a  struggle  for  life  and  death,  of  a  nation  Eminently  dis- 
tinguished by  all  the  physical  and  all  the  moral  qualities  which 
make  excellent  soldiers.  The  resources  at  his  command  were 
unlimited.  The  parliament  was  even  more  ready  to  grant  him 
men  and  money  than  he  was  to  ask  for  them.  In  such  an 
emergency,  and  \vith  such  means,  such  a  statesman  as  Richelieu, 
as  Louvois,  as  Chatham,  as  Wellesley,  would  have  created  in  a  few 
months  one  of  the  finest  armies  in  the  world,  and  would  soon  have 
discovered  and  brought  forward  generals  worthy  to  command  such 
an  army.  Germany  might  have  been  saved  by  another  Blenheim  ; 
Flanders  recovered  by  another  Ramillies  ;  another  Poitiers  might 
have  delivered  the  Royalist  and  Catholic  provinces  of  France  from 
a  yoke  which  they  abhorred,  and  might  have  spread  terror  even  to 
the  barriers  of  Paris.  "Biit  the  fart  is  that,  after  eight,  years  oT 
war.  after  a  vast  destruction  of  life,  after  an  expenditure  of  wealth 


P  1  T  T 


145 


far  exceeding  the  expenditure  of  the  American  War,  of  the  Seven 
Yeai-s'  War,  of  the  War  of  the  Austrian  Succession,  and  of  tlio  War 
of  the  Spanish  Succession  united,  the  English  amiy  under  I'itt 
was  the  laughingstock  of  all  Europe.  It  cuuld  not  boast  of  one 
single  brilliant  exploit.  It  had  never  shown  itself  on  the  Continent 
but  to  be  beaten,  chased,  forced  to  re-embark,  or  forced  to  capitu- 
late. To  take  some  sugar  island  in  the  West  Indies,  to  scatter 
some  mob  of  half-naked  Irish  peasants — such  were  the  most  splendid 
victories  won  by  the  British  troops  under  Pitt's  auspices. 

The  English  navy  no  mismanagement  could  ruin.  But  during 
ft  long  period  whatever  mismanagement  could  do  was  done.  The 
eail  of  Chatham,  without  a  single  qualification  for  high  public  trust, 
was  made,  by  fraternal  partiality,  first  lord  of  the  admiralty,  and 
was  kept  in  that  great  post  during  two  years  of  a  war  in  which  the 
very  existence  of  the  state  depended  on  the  elFicicncy  of  the  fleet. 
He  continued  to  doze  away  and  trifle  away  the  time  which  ought 
to  have  been  devoted  to  the  public  service,  till  the  whole  mercantile 
l)ody,  though  generally  disposed  to  support  the  Government,  com- 
plained bitterly  that  our  flag  gave  no  protection  to  our  trade, 
rortunately  he  was  succeeded  by  George,  Earl  Spencer,  one  of  those 
chiefs  of  the  Whig  party  who,  in  the  great  schism  caused  by  the 
Vrench  Revolution,  had  followed  Burke.  Lord  Spencer,  though 
inferior  to  many  of  his  colleagues  as  an  orator,  was  decidedly  the 
best  administrator  among  them.  To  him  it  was  owing  that  a  long 
and  gloomy  succession  of  days  of  fasting,  and  most  emphatically  of 
humiliation,  was  interrupted,  twice  in  the  short  space  of  eleven 
months,  by  days  of  thanksgiving  for  great  victories. 

It  may  seem  paradoxical  to  say  that  the  incapacity  which  Pitt 
showed  in  all  that  related  to  the  conduct  of  the  war  is,  in  some 
sense,  the  most  decisive  proof  that  he  was  a  man  of  very  extra- 
ordinary abilities.     Yet  this  is  the  simple  truth.     For  assuredly 
one-tenth  part  of  liis  errors  and  disasters  would  have  been'fatal  to 
the  power  and  influence  of  any  minister  who  had  not  possessed,  in 
tho  Highest  degree,  the  talents  of  a  parliamentary  leader.     While 
his  schemes  were  confounded,  while  his  predictions  were  falsified, 
while  the  coalitions  which  he  had  laboured  to  form  were  falling  to 
pieces,  while  the  expeditions  which  he  had  sent  forth  at  enormous 
cost  were  ending  in  rout  and  disgrace,,  while  the  enemy  against 
whom   he  was   feebly  contending  was  subjugating  Flanders  and 
Brabaut,  tho  electorate  of  Mainz  and   the   electorate  of  Treves, 
HolLjnd,  Piedmont,  Lignria,  Lombardy,  his   authority  over   tho 
House 'of  Commons    was   constantly   becoming  more    and   more 
absolute.     There  was  his  empire.     There   were  his  victories — his 
Lodi  and  his  Areola,  his  Rivoli  and  his  Marengo.     If  some  great 
misfortune,  a  pitched  battle  lost  by  the  allies,  the  annexation  of  a 
new  department  to  tho  French  republic,  a  sanguinary  insurrection 
in  Ireland,  a  mutiny  in  tho  fleet,  a  panic  in  the  city,  a  run  on  the 
bank,  had  spread  dismay  through  the  ranks  of  his  majority,  that 
dismay  lasted  only  till  he  rose  from  the  treasury  bench,  drew  up 
his  haughty  head,  stretched  his   arm  with  Commanding  gesture, 
and  poured  forth,  in  deep  and  sonorous  tones,  tho  lofty  language 
ef  inextinguishable  hope  and  inflexible  resolution.     Thus,  through 
a  long  ana- calamitous  period,  every  disaster  that  happened  with- 
out the  walls  of  parliament  was  regularly  followed  by  a  triumph 
within  them.     At  length  he  had  no  longer  an  Opposition  to  en- 
counter.    Of  tho  great  party  which  had  contended  against  him  dur- 
ing the  first  eight  years  of  his  administration  more  than  one-half 
now  marched  under  his  standard,  with'hisold  competitor  the  duke 
of  Portland  nt  their  head  ;   and  the  rest  had,  after  many  vain 
struggles,  quitted  the  field  in  despair.       Fox  had  retired  to  the 
nhttuS  of  St  Anne'a  Hill,  and  had  there  found,  in  the  society  of 
friends  whom  no  vicissitude  could  estrange  from  hin.,  of  a  woman 
whom  ho  tenderly  loved,  and  of  the  illustrious  dead  of  Athens,  of 
Rome,  and  of  Florence,  ample  compensation  for  all  the  misfortunes 
of  his  publiclife.     Session  followed  session  with  scarcely  a  single 
division.      lu  the  eventful   year  1799  the  largest   mmnrity  that 
could  he  mustered  against  tho  Government  was  twcnty^vo. 

In  Pitt's  domestic  policy  there  was  at  this  time  assuredly  no 
want  of  vigour.  While  ho  offered  to  French  Jacobinism  a  resist- 
ance so  feeble  that  it  only  encouraged  the  evil  whicli  ho  'vishcd  to 
suppress,  he  put  down  English  Jacobinism  with  a  strong  hand. 
The  Habeas  Corpus  Act  was  repeatedly  suspended.  Public  meet- 
ings were  placed  under  severe  restraints.  The  Government  ohUiincd 
from  parliament  power  to  send  out  of  the  country  aliens  who  were 
suspected  of  evil  designs ;  and  that  power  was  not  suffereil  to  bo 
idle.  Writers  who  propounded  doctrines  adverse  to  monarchy  and 
aristocracy  were  proscribed  and  punished  without  mercy.  It  was 
h.ardly  safe  for  a  republican  to  avow  his  political  creed  over  his 
l*cfsteak  and  his  bottle  of  port  at  a  chop-house.  The  old  laws  of 
Scotland  against  sedition,  laws  which  were  considcrctl  by  English- 
men as  barbarous,-  and  which  a  succcsBion  of  Governments  had 
BulTcred  to  rust,  were  now  furbished  uj)  and-shnrpcned  anew.  Men 
of  cultivated  minds  and  polished  manncra  were,  for  ofTencea 
>yhich  at  Westminster  would  have  been  treated  as  nicro  misde- 
meanours, sent  to  herd  with  felons  at  Botiny  Bay.  Soino 
reformers,  whose  opinions  were  extravagant,  nnd  whose  Inngungo 
was  intemperate,  but  who  had  never  dreamed  of  subverting  the 


government  by  pliysical  force,  were  indicted  for  high  treason,  and 
were  saved  from  tho  gallows  only  by  the  righteoua  verdicts  of  juricji. 
'i'liis  severity  was  at  the  time  loudly  applauded  by  alarmists  whom 
fear  had  made  cruel,  but  will  be  seen  in  a  very  dilfercnt  light  by 
posterity.  The  truth  is  that  tho  Englishmen  who  wisheil  lor  a 
levolution  were,  even  in  number,  not  formidable,  and  in  every- 
thing but  number  a  faction  utterly  contemptible,  without  arms,  t>r 
funds,  or  plans,  or  organization,  or  leader  There  can  bo  no  doubt 
that  Pitt,  strong  as  he  was  in  the  support  of  the  gioat  body  of  tho 
nation,  might  easily  have  repressed  the  turbulence  of  the  discon- 
tented minority  by  firmly  yet  temperately  enforcing  the  ordinary 
law.  Whatever  vigour  ho  showed  during  this  unfortunate  part  of 
his  life  was  vigour  out  of  place  and  season.  Ho  was  all  feebleness 
and  languor  in  his  conflict  with  the  foreign  enemy  who  was  really 
to  be  dreaded,  and  reserved  all  his  energy  and  resolution  for  tho 
domestic  enemy  who  might  safely  have  been  de.«r>iscd. 

One  part  only  of  Pitts  conduct  during  tho  last  eight  years  of 
the  18th  century  deserves  high  praise.     He  was  tho  firet  English 
minister  who  formed  great  designs  for  the  benefit  of  Ireland.     Tho 
manner  in  which  the  Roman  Catholic  population  of  that  unfortunate 
.country  had  been  ke|it  down  during  many  generations  seemed  to 
hira  unjust  and  cruel ;  and  it  was  scarcely  possible  for  a  man  of 
his  abilities  not  to  perceive  that,  in  a  contest  against  the  Jacobins, 
the  Roman  Catholics  were  his  natural  allies.     Had  he  been  able  to 
do  all  that  he  wished,  it  is  probable  that  a  wise  and  liberal  policy 
would  have   averted   tho   rebellion  of  1798.     But  the  difTicultiea 
which  he  encountered  were   great,  perhaps  insurmountable  ;  and 
the  Roman  Catholics  were,  rather  by  his  misfortune  than  by  his 
fault,  thrown  into  tho  hands  of  Jacobins.     There  was  a  third  great 
rising  of  the  Irishry  against  tho  Englishry,  a  rising  not  less  formid- 
able than  the  risings  of  1C41  and  1689.     The  Englishry  remained 
victorious  ;  and  it  was  necessary  for  Pitt,  as  it  had  been  necessary 
for  Oliver  Cromwell  and  William  of  Orange  before  him,  to  consider 
how  the  victory  should  be  used.     It  is  only  just  to  his  memory  to 
say  that  he  formed  a  scheme  of  policy  so  grand  and  so  simple,  so 
righteous  and  so  humane,  that  it  would  alone   entitle  him  to  a 
l(igh  place.umong  statesmen.     He  determined  to  make  Ireland  one 
kingdom   with   Enghand,  and,  at  the   same -time,  to  relieve   the 
Roman  Catholic  laity  from  civil  disabilities,  and  to  grant  a  public 
maintenance  to  the  Roman  Catholic  clergy.     Had  he  been  able  to 
carry  these  noble  designs  into  en"ect,  the  Union  would_have  been  a 
union  indeed.     If  would  have  been  inseparably  associated  in  the 
minds  of  the  great  majority  of  Irishmen  with  civil  and  re  i^ioua 
freedom  ;  and   the  old  pariiamcnt  in    College   Green   would  have 
been   regretted   only  by  a  small   knot   of  discarded  jobbers  an(^ 
oppressors,  and  would  have  been  remembered  by  the  body  of  the 
nation  with  the  loathing  and  contempt  due  to  the  most  tyrannical 
and  tiro  most  corrupt  a.ssembly  that  had  ever  sat  in  Europe.     But 
Pitt  could  execute  only  one  half  of  what  bo  had  projected.     Ho 
SHCCcedod   in  obtaining  the  consent  of  the  pariiamenU  of  both 
kingdoms  to  the  Union  ;  but  that  rcconriliation  of  races  and  sccta 
without  which  the  Union  could  exist  only  in  name  was  not  arcom- 
pliblicd      He  was  well  aware  that  he  was  likely  to  find  difficulties 
in  the  closet.     But  he  flattered  himself  that,  by  cautious  and  dex- 
terous management,  those  dimcultics   might  be  overcome.      Un- 
happily, there  were  traitors  and  sycophants  in  high  place  who  .lid 
not  EUlfer  him  to  take  his  own  time  and  his  own  way,  but  pre- 
maturely  disclosed  his  scheme  to  the  king,  and  disclosed  it  m  tho 
manner  most  likely  to  irritate  and  alarm  a  weak  and  diseased  imita. 
His  Majesty  absurdly  imagined  that  his  coronation  oath  hound  him 
to  refuse  his  asseut  to  any  bill  for  relieving  Roman  Cntholics  fr.'in 
«.ivil  disabilities.      To  argue  with  him  was  iinpos.sible.      nun.ias 
tried  to  explain  tho  matter,  but  w.as  told  to  keep  his  Scotch  luela- 
iihysics  to  himself.     Pitt  and  Pitt's  nblest  colleagues  resigned  llicir 
oHiccs.      It  was  necc.<vsary  that  the  king  should  make  a  now  ar- 
rangement.    But  by  this  time  his  anger  and  distress  had    .roiiglit 
back  tho  -malady  which  had,  many  years  before,  ,,,caparit.itcd  Imn 
for   tho   discharge  of  his    functions,      lie   actually  assembled  his 
family,  read  tho  coronation  oath  to  them,  and  told  thein  that,  if  ho 
broke"  it,  the  crown  would  immediately  Pass  to  the  house  of  bavoj . 
It  was  not  until  after  an  interregnum  of  several  weeks  that  lie  re- 
gained tho  full  use  of  his  small  faculties,  and  that  a  ministry  tflor 
his  own  heart  was  at  length  formed.,  />,.„„„„„, 

The  materials  out  of  which  ho  had  to  constrret  a  Oovcrnmeiil 
were  neither  solid  nor  splendid.  To  that  parly,  weak  in  mimber. 
but  strong  in  .very  kind  of  talent,  which  wa,  hostile  to  the  'IomicM^c 
an  ■  ' 
Ft 

tioint  on  wiiicii   nit;j(   II ^ »  ■.' 1  :  .1.  I...I 

onlially  agree!  with  then,  n«  to  the  Mngle  matter  which  had 
brought  on  them  his  displeasure.  All  that  w»h  left  to  h.m  WM  to 
call  up  the  rear  ranks  of  tho  old  ministry  to  fonn  Uio  front  rank  of 
a  new  ministry.  In  an  age  pre-eminently  fniitful  of  puliainentary 
talenlfl,  a  cabinet  w.as  fnrm.d  containing  hardly  a  single  man  who 
in  imrliamcnUrv  talent.',  conl.l  1«  ronsiderrd  a«  even  of  the  Kcond 
rate  The  mo-"t  important  oni.-.:8  in  the  »tal.-  were  IwatowcJ  oil 
decoroua  and  laborious  mediocrity,     Henry  Add.ngton  wai  at  tin 


;„i  fo^^  .  i  y  o^  h  »  l"to  adVi^eis,  he  could  no,  liave  ■econ.>o. 
For  that  paVtv,  while  it  differed  from  his  late  n.lviser,  on  oveiy 
point  on  IvhiJh   they  lia.l    l-en  hononie.l    wUh  hi,    ap,.,.,b..,o,. 


ly-b 


146 


PITT 


head  of  tho  treasury.     He  Lad  been  an  early,  indeed  a  hereditary, 
friend  of  Pitt,  and  "had  by  Pitfs  influence  been  placed.-while  still 
a  young  man,  in  the  chair  of  the  House  of  Com.uons       He  waa 
universlUy  admitted  to  have  been  tho  best  Speaker  that  had  sat  in 
that  chair  since  the  retirement  of  Ons!o^T.     But  nature  had  not  be- 
stowed  on  him  very  vigorous  faculties;  and  the  highly  respectable 
situation  which  ha  long  occupied  with  hononr  had  rattier  unfitted 
than  fitted  him  fii-  the  discharge  of  his  new  duties.     His  business 
had  been  to  bear  himself  evenly  between   contending  factions. 
He  had  taken  no  p.-jrt  in  ths  war  of  words  ;  and  he  had  always 
been  addressed  with  marked  deference  by  the  great  orators  who 
thundered  against  each  other  from  his  right  and  from  his  left.     It 
was  not  strange  that  when,  for  the  first  time,  he  had  to  encounter 
keen  and  vigorous  antagonists,  who  dealt  hard  blows  without  the 
smallest  ceremony,  he  should  have  been  awkward  and  unready,  er 
that  the  air  of  dignity  and  authority  which  he  had  acquired  in  his 
former  post,  and  of  which  he  had  not  divested  himself,  should 
have  made  his  helplessness  laughable  and  pitiable.     NevCTtheless, 
during  many  months,  his  power  seemed  to  stand  firm.     He  was  a 
favourite  with  the  king,  whom  he  resembled  in  narrowness  of  mmd, 
and  to  whom  he  was  more  obsequious  than  Pitt  had  ever  been. 
Tho  nation  was  put  into  high  good  humour  by  ap3aoe  with  *  ranee. 
The   enthusiasm   with  which  the  upper  and   middle  classes   had 
rushed  into  the  war  had  spent  itself.     Jacobinism  was  no  longer 
formidable.     Everywhere  there  was  a  strong  reaction  a^inst  what 
was  called  the  atheistical  and  anarchical  philosophy  of  the  ISth 
century.     Bonaparte,  now  first  consul,  was  busied  m  constructing 
out  of  the  ruins  of  old  institutions  a  new  ecclesiastical  estabUsii- 
ment  and  a  new  order  of  knighthood.     That  nothing  less  than  the 
dominion  of  the  whole  civilized  world  would   satisfy  his   selhsh 
ambition  was  not  yet  suspected  ;  nor  did  even  wise  men  see  any 
reasou  to  doubt  that  he  might  be  as  safe  a  neighbour  as  any  prince 
of  the  house  of  Bourbon  had  been.      The  treatj.  of  Amiens   was 
therefore  haUed  by  the  groat  body  of  the  English  peop  e  with  ex- 
travagant joy.     The  popularity  of  the  minister  was  for  tho  mpmeut 
imme°nse.     His  want  of  pariiamentary  ability  was,  as  yet,  of  little 
consequence  ;  for  he  had  scarcely  any  adversary  tfl  encounter.      1  he 
old  Opposition,  delighted  by  the  peace,  regarded  him  with  favour. 
A  new  Opposition  had  indeed  been   formed  by  some  of  the  lato 
ministers,  and  was  led  by  GrenviUe-  in  the  House  of  Lords  and  by 
Windham  in  the  House  of  Commons.     But  the  new  Opposition 
could  scarcely  muster  ten  votes,  and  was  regarded  with  no  favour 
by  the  country.     Oa  Pitt  the  ministers  relied  as  on  their  firmest 
support.     He  had  not,  like  some  of  his  colleagues,  retired  in  anger. 
He  had  expressed  the  greatest  respect  for  the  conscientious  scruple 
which  had  taken  possession  of  the  royal  mind  ;  and  he  had  promised 
his  successors  aU  the  help  in  his  power.     In  private  his  advice  was 
at  their-service.     In  parliament  he  took  his  seat  on  the  bench  be- 
hind  them,  and  in  more  than  one   debate   defended   them  with 
powers  far  superior  to  their  osvn.     The  king  perfectly  understood 
the  value  of  such  assistance.     On  one  occasion,  at  the  palace,  he 
took  tho  old  minister  and  the  new  minister  aside.        If  we  three, 
he  said,  "keep  together,  aU  Till  go  well."  ,.  ^  -^  ■         j 

But  it  was  hardly  possible,  human  nature  being  what  it  is,  ana 
more  especially  Pitt  and  Addington  being  what  tney  were,N;hat 
'  this  union  should  be  durable.  Pitt,  conscious  of  snpenor  powers, 
imagined  that  the  place  which  he  had  nuitted  was  now  occupied  by 
a-mere  puppet  which  hehad  set  up,  which  ho  was  to  govern  while 
he  suffered  it  to  remain,  and  which  he  was  to  fling  aside  as  soon  as 
he  wished  to  resume  his  old  position.  Nor  was  it  long  be^re  he 
be-^n  to  pine  for  the  power  which  ho  had  relinquished.  He  had 
been  so  early  raised  to  supreme  authority  in  the  state,  and  had 
enjoyed  that  authority  so  long,  that  it  had  become  necessary  to 
him.  In  retirement  his  days  passed  heavHy.  He  could  not,  like 
Fox  forget  the  pleasures  and  cares  of  ambition  in  the  company  ol 
Euripide"s  or  Herodotus.  Pride  resti-ained  him  from  intimating, 
even  to  his  dearest  friends,  that  he  wished  to  be  again  minister. 
But  he  thought  it  strange,  almost  ungrateful,  that  his  wish  had 
not  been  divined,  that  it  had  not  been  antic' nated  by  one  whoto  he 
regarded  as  his  deputy,  .     .-     j  ^ 

Addmfton,  oh  the  other  hand,  Was  by  no  means  inclined  to 
ftescend  from  his  high  position.  He  was,  indeed,  under  a  delusion 
much  resembling  that  of  Abou  Has.san  in  the  Arabian  tale.  His 
brain  was  turned  by  his  short  and  unreal  caliphate.  He  took  his 
elevation  quite  seriously,  attributed  it  to  his  own  merit,  and.  con- 
Bidered  himself  as  one  of  the  great  triumvirate  of  English  statesmen, 
as  worthy  to  make  a  third  with  Pitt  and  Fox.  - 

Such  being  the  feelings  of  the  late  minister  Jind  o.  the  present 
minister,  a  rupture  was  inevitable ;  and  there  was  no  .vant  of  pei-sons 
bent  on  making  that  rupture  speedy  and  violent.  Some  of  these 
persons  wounded  Addington'a  pride  by  representing-  him  as  a 
kcquey,  sent  to  keep  a  place  on  the  treasury  bench  till  his  master 
should  find  it  convenient  to  come.  Others  took  every  opportunity 
of  praising  him  at  Pitt's  expense.  Pitt  had  waged  a  long,  a  Woody, 
a  costly,  an  unsuccessful  wa?  Addington  had  made  peace.  Pitt 
had  suspended  tho  constitutional  liberries  of  Englishmen.  Under 
A.ddington  .those  liberties  were  again  enjoyed.      Pitt  had-  wasted 


the  public  resources.     Addington  was  carefully  nursing  them.     It 
was  sometimM!  but  too  evident  that  these  compliments  were  not 
unpleasing  to  Addington.     Pitt  became  cold  and  reserved.     During 
many  months  he  remained  at  a  distance  from  London.     Jleanwhile 
his  most  intimate  friends,  in  spite  of  his  declarations  that  he  made 
no  complaint,  and  that  he  had  no  wish  for  office,  exerted  themselves 
to  efl'ect  a  change  of  ministry.      His   favourite   uisciple,    George 
Canning,  young,  ardent,  ambitions,  with  great  powers  and  great 
virtues,  but  with  a  temper  too  restless  ana  a  wit  too  satirical  for 
his  own  happiness,  was  indefatigable.     He  spoke  ;  he  wrote  ;  he 
intrigued  ;  he  tried  to  induce  a  large  number  of  the  supporters  ot 
the  Government  to  sign  a  round  robin  desiruig  a  change  ;  he  made 
game  of  Addington  and  'of  Addington's  relations  in  a  succession  ot 
Hvely  pasquinades.     The  minister  s  partisans  retorted  with  equal 
acrimony,  if  not  with  equal  vivacity.     Pitt  could  keep  out  of  the 
affray  only  by  keeping  out  of  politics  altogether;  and  this  it  soon 
became  impossible  for  him  to  do.     Had  Napoleon,  content  with 
the  first  place  among  the  sovereigns  of  the  Continent,  and  with  a 
military  reputation  surpassing  that  of  Marlborough  or  of  Turenne 
devoted  himself  to  the  noble  task  of  making  Fiance  happy  by  mild 
administration  and  wise,  legislation,  our  country  might  have  long 
continued  to  tolerate  a  Government  of  fair  intentions  and  feeblo 
abUities.      UnhappUy,   the  treaty  of  Amiens   had   scarcely  been 
signed  when  the  restiess  ambition  and  the  insupportable  insolence 
of  the  first  consul  convinced  the  gi'eat  body  of  the  English  people 
that  the  peace  so  eagerly  welcomed  was  only  a  precarious  armi- 
stice     As  it  became  clearer  and  dealer  that  a  war  for  the  dignity, 
the  indepen'lence,  the  very  existence  of  the  nation  was  at  hand, 
men  looked  with  increasing  uneasiness  on  the  weak  and  languid 
cabinet  wKioh  would  have  to  contend  against  an  enemy  who  united 
more  than  the  power  of  Louis  the  Great  to  more  than  the  genius  ot 
Frederick  the  Great.     It  is  ti:ue  that  Addington  might  easi  y  have 
made  a  better  war  minister  than  Pitt,  and  could  not  possibly  have 
been  a  worse.     But  Pitt;  had  cast  a  speU  on  the  public  nund.     Tlio 
eloquence,  the  judgment,,  the  calm  and  disdainful  firmness  which 
he  had  during   many  years  displayed  in  parliament  deluded  the 
worid  into  the  belief  that  he  must  be  eminently  qualified  to  superin- 
tend every  department  of  politics;  and  they  imagined,  even  after 
the  miserable  faUures  of  Dunkirk,  of  Quiberon,  and  of  the  Helder, 
that  he  was  the  only  statesman  who  could  cope  with  Bonaparte. 
This  feeling  was  nowhere  stronger  than  among  Addington  s  own 
coUeagnesi     The  pressure  put  on  him  was  so  strong  that  he  could 
not  help  yielding  to  it;  yet,  even  in  yielding,. he  showed  how  far- 
he  was  from  knowing  hLs  own  place.     His  first  proposition  was  that 
some  insignificant  nobleman  should  be  first  lord  of  the  h-easury  am 
nominal  head  of  the  administration,  and  that  the  real  power  should 
be  divided  between  Pitt  and  himself,  who  were  to  be  secretaries  of 
state      Pitt,  as  might  have  bedn  expected,  refused  even  to  discuss 
such   a   scheme,    and   talked  of  it   with   bitter  mirth.        Which 
secretaryship  was  ofi-ered  to  you!"  his  friend  Wilberforce  asked. 
"  Really  "  said  Pitt,  "  I  had  not  the  curiosity  to  inquire.       Adding- 
toa  was  frightened  into  bidding  higher.     He  offered  to  resign  the 
treasury  to  Pitt,  on  condition  that  there  should  be  no  extensive 
change  in  the  Government,      But  Pitt  would  listen  to  no  such 
terms.     Then  came  a  dispute  such  as  often  arises  after  negotiations 
orally  conducted,  even  when   the  negotiators   are   men   of  sti-ict 
honour      Pitt  gave  one  account  of  what  had  passed ;   Addington 
gave  another;    and,  though  the  discrepancies   were   not  such   as 
necessarUy   impUed  any  intentional  violation  of  trath  on  either 
side,  both  were  greatly  exasperated'. 

MeanwhUe  the  quarrel  with  the  first  consul  had  come  to  a 
crisis  On  the  16th  of  May  1803  the  king  sent  a  message  calling 
on  the  House  of  Commons  to  support  him  in  withstanding  the 
ambitious  and  encroaching  policy  of  France  ;  and  on  the  22d  the 
House  took  the  message  into  consideration.  _ 

Pitt -had  now  been  living  many  months  in  retirement  there 
bad  been  a  general  election  since  he  had  spoken  in  pariianicnt,  and 
there  were  two  hundred  members  who  had  never  heard  him.  It 
was  known  that  on  this  occasion  he  would  be  m  his  place,  and 
curiosity  was  wound  up  to  the  highest  poifit.  Unfortunately,  the 
shorthand  writers  were,  in  conse<Iuence  of  some  mistake,  shut  out 
on  that  day  from  the  gallery,  so  that  the  newspapers  contained 
only  a  very  meagre  report  of  the  proceedings.  But  several  accounts 
of  what  passed  are  extant ;  and  of  those  accounts  the  most  inter- 
esting U  contained  in  an  unpublished  letter  written  by  a  very 
young  member,  John  William  Ward,  afterwards  earl  of  Dudley. 
When  Pitt  rose,  he  was  received  with  loud  cheering.  At  every 
pause  in  his  speech  there  was  a  burst  of  applause  The  peroration 
a  said  to  have  been  one  of  the  most  animated  and  magnificent 


Pitt  de 

clines 
sv.bord) 
nate 
office. 


ever  heard  in  parUament.  -"Pitt's  8peech,"'Fox  wrote  a  few  days 
later  "was  admired  very  much,  and  very  justly.  I  think  it  was 
the  best  he  ever  made  in  that  style.".'  .The  debata  was  adjourned  i 
and  on  the  second  night  Fox  replied  to  it  in  ail  oration  which,  as  the 
most  zealous  Pittites  were  forced  to  acknowledge,  left  Che  palm  o( 
eloquence  doubtful  Addington  made  a  pitiable  appsarance  between 
the  two  great  rivals;  and  it  was  observed  that  Pitt,  whuo  exhort- 
ing the  Commons  to  stand  resolutely  by  the  executive  Government 


PITT 


147 


agaidst  France,  said  not  o  wonj  iuilicating  esteem  or  frieuilaliip  for 
Ibe  prime  miiusLbr. 

War  was  speedily  declared.  The  fir**  oonsel  flirmitvncil  to  in- 
vade Eli$;laDd  at  tb«  head  of  llie  conmiests  of  liclgiiim  and  Italy, 
and  formed  a  f;reat  camp  near  tlio  Straits  of  lJo\  er.  On  the  otliur 
side  of  tlioso  straits  tlie  wliole  puimlutioii  of  our  island  was  ready 
to  rise  up  as  one  man  in  defence  of  the  soil  AX  tUia  conjunc- 
ture, as  at  some  other  great  conjunctiues  iii  our  history — the  coti- 
juncturo  of  1660,  for  example,  a&d  the  conju|ictuie  ot  16S8— there 
was  a  general  disposition  among  honest  and  jukltiotie  m«u  to  formt 
old  quarrels,  and  to  regard  as  a  friend  every  person  who  was  ready, 
in- the  existing  emergency,  to  do  his  part  towards  the  saving  of  the 
state.  Acoalitionof  all  the  first  men  in  the  country  would,  at  that 
moment,  have  been  as  popular  as  the  coalition  of  irS3  had  been  un- 
popular. Aloue  in  the  kingdom  the  kiug  looked  with  perfect  com- 
placency on  a  cabinet  in  which  no  man  sn)jerior  to  himself  in  genius 
was  to  be  found,  and  was  so  far  from  being  willing  to  admit  all  bis 
ablest  subjects  to  olfiqe  that  ho  was  bent  ou  excludin"  them  all. 

A  few  months  passed  before  the  different  parties  which  agreed  in 
regarding  the  Government  with  dislike  ana  contempt  came  to  an 
understanding  with  each  other.  But  in  the  spring  of  180$  it  be- 
came evident  that  the  weakest  of  ministries  would  have  to  delcnd 
itself  agarinst  the  strongest  of  Oppositions,  an  Opposition  made  up 
of  three  Oppositions,  each  of  which  would,  separately,  liave  been 
formidable  from  ability,  and  which,  when  united,  were  also  for- 
midable from  number.  The  party  which  had  opposed  the  peace, 
headed  by  Grenville  and  Windham,  and  the  party  which  had  op- 
posed the  renewal  of  the  war,  Iieaded  by  Fox,  concurred  in  thinkin;: 
that  the  men  now  in  power  were  incapable  of  either  making  a  gooil 
peace  or  waging  a  vigorous  war.  1  itt  had  in  1802  spoken  for 
peace  against  the  party  of  Grenville,  and  had  in  1803  spokin  for 
war  against  the  party  of  Kox.  lint  of  the  capacity  of  the  cabinet, 
and  especially  of  its  chief,  for  the  conduct  of  great  allaii-s,  he 
thought  as  meanly  as  either  Fox  or  Grenville.  Questions  were 
easily  found  on  which  all  the  enemies  of  the  Governnient  could  net 
cordially  together.  The  unfortunate  first  lord  of  the  treasury, 
who  had,  during  the  earlier  months  of  his  adiuinistration,  been 
supported  by  Pitt  on  one  side  and  by  Fox  on  the  other,  now  had 
to  answer  Pitt  and  to  bo  answered  by  Fox.  Two  sharp  debates, 
followed  by  jclose  divisions,  made  him  weary  of  his  post.  It  was 
known,  too,  that  the  Upper  House  was  ever  more  ho.stilo  to  him 
than  the  Lower,  that  the  Seotcli  representative  peers  wavered,  that 
there  were  signs  of  nmtiny  among  the  bishops.  In  .the  cabinet 
itself  there  was  discord,  and,  worse  than  discord,  treachery.  It 
llding-  was  necessary  to  give  way;  the  ministry  was, dissolved,  and  the 
1  task  of  forming  a  Governraont  was  entrusted  to  Pitt. 

aistry  Pitt  was  of  opinion  that  there  was  now  an  opportunity,  such  as 
ign».  had  never  before  offered  itself,  and  such  as  might  never  offer  itself 
again,  of  uniting  in  the  pu'dic  service,  on  honourable  terms,  all 
tlio  eminent  talents  of  the  kingdom.  The  passions  to  which  the 
French  Kcvolution  Iiad  given  birth  were  extinct.  The  madness  of 
the  innov.rtor  and  the  madness  of  the  alarmist  had  alike  had  their 
day.  Jacobinism  and  Antijacobiiiism  had  gone  out  of  fashion 
togothen  The  most  iiberal  statesman  did  not  think  that  season 
propitious  for  schemes  of  pailiameiitary  reform;  and  the  most 
conservative  statesman  could  not  pretend  that  there  was  any 
occasion  for  gagging  bills  and  suspensions  of  the  Habeas  Corpus 
Act.  The  great  struggle  for  indopendcuco  and  national  lionour 
occupied  all  minds;  and  those  who  were  agreed  as  to  the  duty  of 
maintaining  that  struggle  with  vigour  might  well  iiostpone  to  a 
more  couvoaient  time  all  di.'iputcs  about  matters  comparatively 
unimportant.  Strongly  inijni'ssed  by  these  considerations,  Pitt 
wisiicu  to  form  a  ministry  including  all  the  firstmcn  in  the  country. 
The  treasury  he  reserved  for  himself;  and  to  Fox  he  proposed  to 
a.Hsi[;n  a  .share  of  power  little  inferior  to  his  own. 

The  plan  was  excellent;  but  the  king  would  not  hear  of  it. 
Dull,  obstinate,  unforgiving,  and  at  that  time  half  mad,  he 
positively  refused  to  admit  Fox  into  his  service.  Anybody  else. 
oven  men  who  had  gone  as  far  as  Fox,  or  further  than  Fox,  in  what 
His  Majesty  considered  as  Jacobinism— Sheridan,  Grey,  Erskino— 
should  lie  gi-acionsly  received,  but  Fox  never.  During  several 
houra  Pitt  laboured  in  vain  to  reason  down  this  senseless  antipathy. 
That  he  was  perfectly  sincere  there  can  bo  no  doubt ;  but  it  wus 
not  enoH'-h  to  bo  sincere — he  should  have  been  resolute.  Had  he 
declared  himself  determined  not  to  take  office  without  Fox,  the 
royal  obstinacy  would  have  given  way,  ns  it  gave  way,  a  few 
months  later,  when  oppo.sed  to  the  iminutablo  nwulution  of  I.t^rd 
Grenville.  In  an  evil  hour  Pitt  yielded.  He  flattered  himself 
with  the  ho^c  (hat,  though  he  consented  to  forego  the  aid  of  his 
illustiious  rival,  thor»  would  still  remain  ample  materials  for  the 
formation  of  an  cfEcient  ministry.  That  llopo  was  cruelly 
disappointed.  Fox  entiX'ated  his  friends  to  leave  iiorsonal  con.Hider.v 
tions  out  of  the  ipiestion,  and  ileclared  that  lie  wouhl  support, 
with  the  ntmost  nordiality,  an  cllieicnt  and  patriotic  mirdstry  from 
which  ho  slinnld  bo  himself  excluded.  Not  only  his  fricnda,  bow* 
cveiv  hut  Grenville  and  Givavillu'ii  adherents  answered  with  one 
voice  that  the  question  was  not  pcinonal,  that  a  great  couttitu- 


lioiial  principle  was  at  stako,  and  that  thoy  would  not  take  olTio* 
wliili  a  man  eniiueully  (|iialilied  to  render  service  to  the  roinmou- 
wealth  was  placed  under  a  ban  merely  bceauso  ho  nas  di^iliked  at 
court.  All  that  was  left  to  J'itt  was  to  eonstniet  a  GovemiiK'nt 
out  of  the  wreck  of  Addington's  feeble  administration.  The  small 
circle  of  his  personal  reUiiiiers  fnm'isheit  him  with  ft  very  few 
useful  assistants,  particularly  Dundas  (who  had  boon  CKaletl 
Viscount  Melville),  IiOid  llarrowby,  and  Canning. 

Such  was  tile  inauspicious  manner  in  which  Pitt  entered  on  Ida 
second  adiniiiistration.  The  whole  history  of  that  administratinu 
was  of  a  picio  with  the  comnieucement.  Almost  every  iiioutli 
brought  some  new  disaster  or  disgiace.  To  the  war  with  Franco 
was  soon  added  a  war  with  S|.aiH.  The  o]iponents  of  tlio  ministry 
were  numerous,  able,  and  active.  His  most  nsefnl  coadjutoni  he 
soon  last.  Sickncsr  deprived  him  of  t!i«i  help  of  Lord  HarroMhy. 
It  was'  discovered  that  Lord  llelvillu  had  been  guilty  of  Idghlf 
iulpablc  laxity  in  transactions  relating  to  public  money.  Ho  w.ai 
'censured  by  the  House  of  Commons,  driven  from  olliro,  ejected 
from'the  Privy  Council,  and  impeaihed  of  high  ciiincs  end  mi» 
demeanours.  The  blow  fell  heavy  on  Pitt.  It  gave  him,  he  sait, 
in  parliament,  a  deep  pang  ;  and,  as  he  uttered  the  word  ]>aiig  his 
lip  quivered,  his  voice  shook,  he  paused,  and  his  heaieis  thoiifjlu 
that  ho  was  about  to  burst  into  tears.  Such  tcnre  shed  by  Eldoi, 
would  have  moved  nothing  but  liiughter.  Shed  by  the  narin 
hearted  and  open-hearted  Fox.  they  would  have  moved  symjalliy, 
hut  would  have  caused  no  surprise.  T?ut  a  tear  from  Pitt  would 
have  been  something  porteutou*.  ■  He  .suppressed  his  emotion,  how- 
ever,  and  proceeded  with  his  usual  niajesiic  self-possession. 

His  diflicnltics  compelled  him  to  resort  to  v.arious  exjicdiciiU. 
At  one  time  Addington  was  persuaded  to  accept  olHco  with  k 
peerage;  but  he  brought  no  additional  strength  to  the  Govern- 
ment. Though  he  went  through  the  form  of  reixmcilialiou,  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  forgot  the  past.  While  he  remained  in  place 
he  was  jealous  and  punctilious ;  and  he  soon  retired  again.  At 
another  time  Pitt  renewed  his  efforts  lo  overcome  his  ma.stcr'» 
aversion  to  Fox  ;  and  it  was  rumoured  that  the  king's  obstinacy 
was  gradually  giving  w.ay.  lint,  iiieanwhilo,  it  was  iiniiossible  for 
the  minister  to  conceal  from  the  jmblic  eye  the  decay  of  his  health 
and  the  constant  anxiety  which  gnawed  at  his  heart.  His  sleep 
was  broken.  His  food  ceased  to  nourish  him.  All  who  i>a.«sed 
him  in  the  park,  all  who  had  interviews  with  him  in  Downing 
Street,  saw  misery  written  in  his  face.  The  peculiar  look  wliieli  ha 
wore  during  the  hast  months  of  his  life  was  often  pathetically 
described  by  Wilberfoice,  who  used  to  call  it  the  Austeilitz  look. ' 

Still  the  vigour  of  Pitt's  intellectual  facnilies  and  the  intrepid 
haughtiness  of  his  spirit^  remained  unaltered.  Ho  had  staked 
everything  on  a  great  venture.  Ho  had  succeeded  in  foriuiuj 
another  mighty  coalition  against  the  French  ascemlciicy.  Tlia 
united  forces  of  Austria,  Russia,  and  England  might,  he  hoiicd/ 
oppose  an  insurmountable  barrier  to  (he  ambition  of  the  commoit 
enemy.  But  the  gDni|l8  and  tnpffiy  of  Ka|ioleoii  ]ircvailcd.' 
While  the  English  troope  were  prepaiing  to  embark  for  Germany, 
while  the  Russian  trooil,s  Were  slowly  coming  up  from  PolamI,  liou 
with  rapidity  unprecedented  in  modern  war,  moved  a  humlrxsil 
thousand  men  from  the  shores  of  the  ocean  to  the  Black  Forest, 
and  compelled  a  great  Austrian  army  to  surrender  at  Ulm.  To  tlie 
first  faint  rumours  of  this  calandty  Pitt  would  give  no  credit  He 
was  irritated  by  the  alarms  of  those  aronnil  him.  "Do  not  believe 
a  word  of  it,"  lie^aid  ;  "it  is  all  a  fiction. "  The  next  day  he  rcccivcj 
a  Dutch  news)iaper  containing  the  capitulation.  He  knew  no  Hutch. 
It  W.1S  Sunday,  and  the  public  offices  were  shut.  He  caviiid  the 
paper  to  Loid  Walmesbury,  .^vlio  hnd  been  minister  in  Holl.iml; 
and  Lord  Malmesbuiy  translated  it.  Pitt  tried  to  bear  up,  but  the 
shock  was  too  great;  and  he  went  away  with  death  in  his  face.  ' 

The  news  of  tho  battle  of  Trafalgar  arrived  four  days  later,  and 
seemed  for  a  moment  to  revive  him.  Forty-eight  houi.i  after  tliaC 
most  glorious  and  most  monriiful  of  victories  had  been  aiinouiiceil 
to  tho  country  came  the  LoM  JInyor's  Day;  and  Pitt  dined  a( 
Giiildhnll.  !li9  popularity  had  declined.  Gut  on  this  occasion 
the  multituilo,  greatly  excited  by  the  recent  tidings,  welcumod 
him  cnthusiaslicaily,  took  off  his  horses  in  Clieapside,  anil  ilre\»* 
his  earring"  up  King  Street.  When  his  hoiillh  was  drunk,  lie 
returned  thanks  in  two  or  three  of  those  stiely  sentences  of  which 
ho  bad  a  boundless  eommnnd.  Several  of  those  who  hoard  him  laid 
up  his  words  in  their  hearts;  for  they  were  the  last  words  thai, 
ho  ever  uttered  in  public :  "  Lot  ns  hoi>o  that  Knglnnd,  having 
saveil  herself  by  her  energy,  may  save  Etnn|M!  by  her  example." 

This  was  but  a  momentary  rally.  Aiisteililr.  soon  completed 
what  Ulm  had  begun.  ICaily  in  Decemlur  I'itt-Jiail  retired  (o 
Bath,  in  tho  hojie  that  ho  might  there  gither  strength  fur  the 
approaching  session.  While  ho  was  lniigiiii<Jiiiig  thcj-o  <ui  hia  sofa 
arrived  the  news  that  a  di'cisive  battle  lia^l  lieeii  fuiight  and  loet 
in  Moravia,  that  the  coalition  wa."  di«olved,  thit  the  CuntiiMiit 
was  at  tho  feyt  of  Fraiiee.  Hn  sank  down  under  the  blow.  ';.  it 
d»y«  later  he  was  so  emaciated  that  bin  nio^t  intimeio  li'"iidi 
hardly  knew  liim.  lie  camu  up  from  Bath  by  kIow  jouriiey,  •  mJ 
on  the  mil  of  January  IbOG  reached  Iris  villa  at  Puliioy,     i'arlia- 


148 


P  I  T  — P  I  T 


I 


ment  was  to  meet  on  tlie  21st.  On  the  20111  was  to  be  the  parlia- 
mentary dinner  at  the  house  of  the  first  lord  of  the  treasury  in 
Downing  Street ;  and  the  cards  were  already  issued.  But  the 
days  of  the  great  minister  were  numbered.  The  only  chance  for 
his  life,  and  that  a  very  slight  chance,  was  that  ho  should  resign 
Iiis  office,  and  pass  some  months  in'  profound  repose.  His  colleagues 
paid  him  very  short  visits,  and  carefully  avoided  political  conver- 
eatioii.  Biit  hi.s  spirit,  long  accustomed  to  dominion,  could  not, 
even  in  that  extremity,  relinquish  hopes  which  everybody  but  him- 
self perceived  to  be  vain.  On  the  day  on  which  he  was  carried 
into  his  bedroom  at  Putney  the  Marquis  Wellesley,  whom  he  had 
long  loved,  whom  he  had  sent  to  govern  India,  and  whose  adminis- 
tration had  been  eminently  able,  energetic,  and  successful,  arrived 
in  London  after  an  absence  of  eight  years.  The  friends  saw  each 
other  once  more.  There  was  an  affectionate  meeting  and  a  last  part- 
ing. That  it  was  a  last  parting  Pitt  did  not  seem  to  be  aware.  He 
fancied  himself  to  be  recovering,  talked  on  various  subjects  cheer- 
fully and  with  an  unclouded  mind, -and  pronounced  a  warm  and 
discerning  eulogiura  on  the  marquis's  brother  Arlhur.  "  I  never," 
he  said,  "  met  with  any  military  man  with  whom  it  was  so  satisfac- 
tory to  converse."  The  excitement  and  exertion  of  this  interview 
were  too  much,  for  the  sick  man.  He  fainted  away ;  and  Lord  Wel- 
lesley left  the  house  convinced  that  the  close  was  fast  approaching. 
And  now  members  of  parlianient  were  fast  coming  up  to  London. 
The  chiefs  of  the  Opposition  met  for  the  purpose  of  considering  the 
course  to  be  taken  on  the  first  'day  of  the  session.  It  was  easy  to 
guess  wnat  would  be  the  language  of  the  king's  speech,  and  of  the 
address  which  would  be  moved  in  answer  to  that  speech.  An 
amendment  condemning  the  policy  of  the  Government  had  been 
irepared,  and  was  to  have  been  proposed  in  the  House  of  Commons 
ly  Lord  Henry  Petty,  a  young  nobleman  who  had  already  won 
for  himself  that  place  in  the  esteem  of  his  country  which,  after  the 
lapse  of  more  than  half  a  century,  he  still  retains.'  He  was  unwill- 
ing, however,  to  come  forward  as  the  accuser  of  one  who  was  incap- 
able of  defending  himself.  Lord  Gi-enville,  who  had  been  informed 
of  Pitt's  state  by  Lord  Wellesley,  and  had  been  deeply  affected  by 
it,  earnestly  recommended  forbearance  ;  and  Fox,  with  characteristic 
generosity  and  good  nature,  gave  his  voice  against  attacking  his 
pow  helpless  rival.  "Sunt  lacrymse  ferum, "  he  said,  "et'mentem 
luortalia  tangunt."  On  the  first  day,  therefore,  there  was  no 
debate.  It  was  rumoured  that  evening  that  Pitt  was  better.  .But 
>n  the  following  morning  his  "physicians  pronounced  that  there 
were  no  hopes.  The  commanding  faculties  of  which  he  had  been 
too  proud  were  beginning  to  fail.  His  old  tutor  and  friend,  the 
Vshop  of  Lincoln,  informed  him  of  his  danger,  and  gave  such 
religious  advice  and  consolation  as  a  confuseil  and  obscured  mind 
Bouid-  receive.  Stories  were  told  of  devout  sentiments  fervently 
tittered  by  the  dying  man.  But  these  stories  found  no  credit  with 
Anybody  who  knew  him.  Wilherforce  pronounced  it  impossible 
that  they  could  be  true  ;  "  Pitt,"  he  added,  "  was  a  man  who 
ftlways  said  less  than  he  thought  on  such  topics."  It  was  asserted 
tn  many  after-dinner  speeches,  Grub  Street  elegies,  and  academic 
prize  poems  and  prize  declamations  that  the  great  minister  died 
exclaiming,  "Oh  my  country  f"  This  i«  a  fable,  but  it  is  true 
that  the  last  words  which  he  uttered,  while  he  knew  what  he  said, 
vera  broken  exclamations  about  the  alarming  state  of  public  affairs. 
He  ceased  to  breathe  on  the  morning  of  the  23rd  of  January  1806, 
the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  the  day  on  which  he  first  took  his 
seat  in  parliament.  He  was  in  his  forty-seventh  year,  and  had 
been  during  near  nineteen  years  first  lord  of  the  treasury,  and  un- 
lisputed  chief  of  the  administration.  Si;ice  pai'liamentary  govem- 
Tient  was  established  in  England,  no  English  statesman  has  held 
supreme  jiower  so  long.  Walpole,  it  is  true,  was  first  lord  of  the 
treasury  during  more  than  twenty  years,  but  it  ^^■a3  not  till 
Walpole  had  been  some  time  first  lord  of  the  treasury  that  he 
could  be  properly  called  prime  minister. 

It  was  moved  in  the  House  of  Commons  that  Pitt  should  be 
honoured  with  a  public  funeral  and  a  monument.  The  motion 
Was  opposed  by  Fox  in  a  speech  which  deserves  to  be  studied  as  a 
model  of  good  taste  and  good  feeling.  The  task  was  the  most 
invidious  that  ever  an  orator  undertook  ;  but  it  was  performed 
with  a  humanity  and  delicacy  which  were  warmly  acknowledged 
by  the  mourning  friends  of  hini  who  was  gone.  'Thw  motion  was 
carried  by  288  votes  to  89. 

The  2'2d  of  February  was  fixed  for  the  funeral.  The  corpse 
having  lain  in  state  during  two  days  in  the  Painted  Chamber,  was 
borne  with  great  pomp  to  the  northern  transept  of  the  Abbey.  A 
splendid  train  of  princes,  nobles,  bishops,  and  privy  councillors 
followed.  The  grave  of  Pitt  had  been  made  near  to  the  spot  wbere 
his  great  father  lay,  near  also  to  the  spot  where  his  great  rival  was 
soon  to  lie.  The  sadness  of  the  assistants  was  beyond  that  of 
ordinary  mourners.     For  he  whom  they  were  committing  to  the 


*  [Henry  Petty  Fitzmnurice,  third  marquis  of  Laiiadowne,  was  bom  in  London, 
Jaly  2,  1780,  and  died  at  Bowood,  January  31,  1663.  Ho  entered  parliament  In 
1801,  and  succeeded  to  the  peerage  in  IS09.  For  a  brief  period  in  1823  he  was 
secretary  of  state  for  the  home  department,  and  again,  Id  1828-29,  secretary  for 
rar£l|;n  nffaii-s.  From  1831  to  1841,  and  from  1846  to  1853,  be  was  loid  presidint 
If  the  council.] 


dust  had  died  of  sorrows  and  anxieties  of  which  none  of  the 
survivors  could  be  altogether  without  a  share.  Wilherforce,  who 
carried  the  banner  before  the  hearse,  described  the  awful  ceremony 
with  deep  feeling.  As  the  coffin  descended  into  the  earth,  he  said, 
the  eagle  face  of  Chatham  from  above  seemed  to  look  down  wftl' 
consternation  into  the  dark  house  which  was  receiving  all  that 
remained  of  so  much  power  and  glory. 

All  parties  in  the  House  of  Commons  readily  concurred  in  voting 
forty  thousand  pounds,  to  .satisfy,  the  demamis  of  Pitt's  creditors. 
Some  of  his  admirers  seemed  to  consider  the  magnitude  of  his 
embarrassments  as  a  circumstance  highly  honourable  to  him  ;  but 
men  of  sense  will  probably  be  of  a  different  opinion.  It  is  far 
better,  no  doubt,  that  a  great  minister  should  carry  his  contempt 
of  money  to  excess  than  that  he  should  contaminate  his  hands 
with  unlawful  gain.  But  it  is  neither  right  nor  becoming  in  a  man 
to  whom  the  public  has  given  an  income  more  than  sufficient  for 
his  comfort  and  dignity  to  bequeath  to  that  public  a  great  debt, 
the  effect  of  mere  negligence  and  profusion.  As  first  lord  of  tli^ 
treasury  and  chancellor  'of  the  exchequer  Pitt  never  had  less  thau 
six  thousand  a  year,  besides  an  excellent  house.  In  1792  he  was 
forced  by  his  royal  master's  fnendly  importunity  to  accept  for 
life  the  office  of  warden  of  the  Cinque  Ports,  with  near  four 
thousand  a  year  more.  Ho  had  neither  wife  nor  child  ;  he  had  no 
needy  relations  ;  he  had  no  expensive  tastes  ;  he  had  no  long 
election  bills.  Had  he  given  but  a  quarter  of  an  hour  a  week  to 
the  regulation  of  his  household,  he  would  have  kept  his  expendi- 
ture within  bounds.  Or,  if  he  could  not  spare  even  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  a  week  for  that  purpose,  he  had  numerous  friends, 
excellent  men  of  business,  who  would  have  been  proud  to  act  as 
his  stewards.  One  of  those  friends,  the  chief  of  a  great  commer- 
cial house  in  the  city,  made  an  attempt  to  put  the  establishment 
in  Downiilg  Street  to  rights,  but  in  vain.  He  found  that  the 
waste  of  the  servants'  hall  was  almost  fabulous.  The  quantity 
of  butcher's  meat  charged  in  the  bills  was  nine  hundredweight  a 
week.  The  consumption  of  poultry,  of  fish,  of  tea,  was  in  propor-. 
tion.  The  character  of  Pitt  would  have  stood  higher  if  with  the 
disinterestedness  of  Pericles  and  of  De  Witt  he  had  united  their 
dignified  frugality. 

The  memoi'y  of  Pitt  has  been  assailed,  times  innumerable,  often 
justly,  often  unjustly;  but  it  has  suffered  much  less  from  his 
assailaflts  than  from  his  eulogists.  For,  during  many  years,  his 
name  was  the  rallying  cry  of  a  class  of  men  with  whom,  at  one  of 
those  terrible  conjunctures  which  confound  all  ordinary  distinc- 
tions, he  was  accidentally  and  temporarily  connected,  but  to  whom, 
on  almost  all  great  questions  of  principle,  he  was  diametrically 
opposed.  The  haters  of  parlianlentary  reform  called  themselves 
Pittites,  not  choosing  to  remember  that  Pitt  made  three  motions 
for  parliamentary  reform,  and  that,  thotigh  he  thought  that  such 
3- reform  could  not  safely  be  made  while  the  passions  excited  by 
the  French  Revolution  were  raging,  ha  never  uttered  a  word 
indicating  that  he  should  not  be  prepared  at  a  more  convenient 
season  to  bring  the  question  forward  a  fourth  time.  The  toast  of 
Protestant  ascendency  was  drunk  on  Pitt's  birthday  by  a  set  of 
Pittites  who  could  not  but  be  aware  that  Pitt  had  resigned  his 
office  because  he  could  not  carry  Catholic  emancipation.  The 
defenders  of  the  Test  Act  called  themselves  Pittites,  though  they 
could  not  be  ignorant  that  Pitt  had  laid  before  George  III.  un- 
answerable reasons  for  abolishing  the  Test  Act.  The  enemies  of 
free  trade  called  themselves  Pittites,  though  Pitt  was  far  more 
deeply  imbued  with  the  doctrines  of  Adam  Smith  than  either  Fox 
or  Grey'  The  very  negro-drivers  invoked  the  name  of  Pitt,  whose 
eloquence  was  never  more  conspicuously  displayed  than  when  ha 
spoke  of  the  wrongs  of  the  negro.  This  mythical  Pitt,  who 
resembles  the  genuine  Pitt  as  little  as  the  Charlemagne  of  Ariosio 
resembles  the  Charlemagne  of  Eginhard,  has  had  his  day.  History" 
will  vindicate  the  real  man  from  calumny  disguised  under  tha 
semblance  of  adulation,  and  will  exhibit  him  as  what  he  was— a 
minister  of  great  talents,  honest  intentions,  and  liberal  opinions, 
pre-eminently  qualified,  intellectually  and  morally,  for  the  part  of 
a  parliamentary  leader,  and  capable  of  aidministering  with  pnidence 
and  moderation  the  government  of  a  prosperous  and  tranquil 
country,  but  unequal  to  surprising^  and  terrible  emergencies,  aiul 
liable  in  such  emergencies  to  err  grievously,  both  ou  the  side  o( 
weakness  and  on  the  side  of  violence.  (M.) 

PITTA,  in  Ornithology,  from  the  Telegu  Pitta,  meaninj^ 
a  small  Bird,  lyatinized  by  VieUlot  in  1816_  \Analy§e,  p. 
42)  as  the  name  of  a  genus,  and  since  adopted  by  English 
ornithologists  as  the  general  name  for  a  group  of  Birds, 
called  by  the  French  Breves,  and  remarkable  _  for  theii 
great  beauty.^  For  a  long  ■while  the  Pittas  were  commonly 
supposed  to  be  allied  to  the  Turdidx,  and  some  English 

^  '  In  Ornithology  the  word  Is  flrsl  fotind  as  part  of  the  native  name,  *'PonJ 
nunky  pitta,"  of  a  Bird,  Riven  in  1713  by  Petiver,  In  the  **  Mantissa  "to  Ray'a 
Synopiia  (p.  195),  on  the  authority  of  Buckley  (see  Ornitholoot,  vol.  xviil.  p.  s, 
note  1).  This  bird  la  the  Pitta  bengalensis  of  modem  omitholoclsts.  and  is  8:ild 
b^  Jerdon  {Birds  o^  India,  L  p.  503^  now  to  bear  the  Telegu  name  of  Pona-int*t 


PIT  —  P  I  T 


149 


writers  applied  to  them  the  name  of  "  Water-Thrashes  " 
and  "Ant- Thrushes,"  though  there  was  no -evidence  of  their 
having  aquatic  habits  or  predilections,  or  of  their  preying 
especially  upon  ants ;  but  the  fact  that  they  formed  a 
separate  Family  was  gradually  admitted.  Their  position 
was  at  last  determined  by  Garrod,  who,  having  obtained 
examples  for  dissection,  in  a  communication  to  the  Zoo- 
logical Society  of  London,  printed  in  its  Prt>ceedings  for 
1876,  proved  (pp.  512,  513)  that  the  Pittidx  belonged  to 
that  section  of  Passerine  Birds  which  he  named  Mesomyodi 
(Ornithology,  vol.  xviii.  p.  41),'  since  their  syrinx,  like 
that  of  the  Tyrannidx  (Kino-bird,  vol.  xiv.  p.  80),  has  its 
muscles  attached  to  the  middle  of  its  half-rings,  instead 
of  to  their  extremities  as  in  the  higher  Passerines  or 
Acromyudi.  This  in  itself  was  an  unexpected  determina- 
tion, for  such  a  structure  had  been  thought  to  be  confined 
to  Birds  of  the  New  World,  to  which  none  of  the  Pittas 
belong.  But  it  is  borne  out  by,  and  may  even  serve  to 
explain,  the  sporadic,  xlistribution  of  the  latter,  which 
seems  to  point  them  out  as  survivors  of  a  somewhat 
ancient  and  lower  type  of  Passeres.  Indeed  except  on 
some  theory  of  this  kind  the  distribution  of  the  Pittas  is 
almost  unaccountable.     They  form  fl  yerv  homogeneous 


Pitta  elegaiis,  male  uii'l  feniale.\ 

Ifamily,  riot  to  say  genus,  which  it  is  not  easy  to  split^up 
justifiably,  for  all  its  members  bear  an  unmistakable  and 
close  resemblance  to  each  other — though  the  species 
inhabit  countries  so  far  apart  as  Angola  and  China,  India 
and  Australia  ;  and,  to  judge  from  the  little  that  has  been 
recorded,  they  are  all  of  terrestrial  habit,  while  their  power 
of  flight,  owing  to  their  short  wings,  is  feeble.  Nearly 
fifty  s[)ecies  have  now  been  described,  most  of  them  found 
in  the  Malay  Archipelago,  between  ■  the  eastern  and 
western  divisions  of  which  they  are  pretty  equally  divided; 
and,  in  Mr  Wallace's  opinion, '  they  attain  their. maximum 
of  beauty  arid  variety  in  Borneo  and  Sumatra,  from  the 
latter  of  which  islands  comes  the  species,  Pitta  eler/an.i, 
represented  in  the  accompanying  woodcut.  Few  Birds 
can  vie  with  the  Pittas  in  brightly-contrasted  'coloration. 
Deep  velvety  black,  pure  white,  and  intensely  vivid 
scarlet,  turquoise-bluo  and  beryl-green — mostly  occupying 
a  considerable  extent  of  surface— are  foiind  in  a  great  many 
of  the  species, — to  say  nothing  of  other  composite  or  inter- 
mediate hues  ;  and,  though  in  some  a  modification  of  these 
tints  is  observable,  there  is  scarcely  a  trace  of  any  blend- 
ihg  of  shade,  each  patch  of  colour  standing  out  distinctly. 

'  Owing  to  recent  discoveries  in   Papuasia  it  is  poasibln  that  this 
opinion  may  require  some  modification. 


This  is  perhaps  the  more  remarkable  as  the  feathers  have 
hardly  any  lustre  to  heighten  the  effect  produced,  and  in 
some  species  the  brightest  colours  are  exhibited  by  fhe 
plumage  of  the  lower  parts  of  the  body.  Pittas  vary  in 
size  from  that  of  a  Jay  to  that  of  a  Lark,  and  generally 
have  a  strong  bill,  a  thickset  form,  which  is  mounted  on 
rather  hi^h  legs  with  scutellated  "  tarsi,"  and  a  very  short 
tail.  In  many  of  the  forms  there  is  little  or  no  external 
difference  between  the  se.xes.  All  the  species  then  known 
were  figured  in  Mr  Elliot's  Monograj}h  of  the  PiUidx,  com- 
pleted iu  1863  ;  but  so  n>any  have  since  been  described 
that  this  work  but  imperfectly  represents  the  existing  know- 
ledge of  the  Family,  and  even  Schlegel's  revised  catalogiie 
of  the  specimens  contained  in  the  Leyden  Museum  (il/«». 
des  PaysBas,  livr.  11),  published  in  1874,  is  now  out  of 
date,  so  that  a  new  synopsis  is  very  desirable.  Many  of 
the  lately-discovered  species  have  been  figured  in  Gould's 
Birds  of  Asia  and  Birds  of  New  Guinea. 

Placed  by  some  authorities  among  the  Pittidx  is  the 
genus  PhikpiiM,  consisting  of  two  species  peculiar  to 
Madagascar,  while  other  system'atists  would  consider  it  to 
form  a  distinct  Family.  This  last  is  the  conclusion  arrived 
at  by  W.  A.  Forbes  [Proc.  Zool  Society,  1880,  pp.  387- 
391)  from  its  syringeal  characters,  -n'hich,- though  shewing 
it  to  be  allied  to  the  Pittas,  are  yet  sufficiently  different  to 
justify  its  separation  as  the  type  of  a  Family  Pliilepiitidee. 
The  two  species  which  compose  it  have  little  ouvward 
resemblance  to  the  Pittas,  not  having  the  same  style  of 
coloration  and  being  apparently  of  more  arboreal  habits. 
The  sexes  differ  greatly  in  plumage,  and  the  males  have 
the  skin  round  the  eyes  bare  of  feathers  and  tarunculated. 

It  may  be  advisable  to  remark  that  nomenclatorial 
purists,  objecting  to  the  names  Pitta  and  Philcpitta  as 
"  barbarous,"  call  the  former  Coloburis  and  the  latter 
Paicies.  Brachyurus  also- has  frequently  t^en  used  for 
Pitta;  but,  having  been  previously  applied  in  another  sense, 
'  it  is  inadmissible.  (a.  -n.) 

PITTACUS  of  Mytilene  in  Lesbos,'  one  of  the  seven 
sages  of  Greece,  was  born  in  651  B.C.  His  father 
Hyrradius  (or  Caicus)  was  a  Thracian,  his  mother  was  a 
Lesbian.  '  About  611  B.C.  Pittacus,  along  with  the  brothers 
of  the  poet  Alcieus,  overthrew  Jlelanchrus, .  tyrant  of 
Lesbos..-  In  a  war  between  the  Mytilenians  and  Athenians 
for  the  possession  of  the  town  of  Sigeum  on  the  Helle- 
spont, P.ittacus,''as  general  of  the  Mytilenians,  slew  the 
Athenian  commander  Phrynon  in  single  combat,  having 
entangled  him  in  a  net  (606  B.C.).  In  589  his  fellow-, 
citizens  entrusted  Pittacus  with  despotic  power  for  the 
purpo.se  of  protecting  them  against  the  exiled  nobles,  at 
the  head  of  whom  were  Alcjeus  and  Antimetiides.  Pittacus 
effected  this  object,  and,  without  introducing  a  new  con- 
stitution, contrived  by  legislatio.n  to  restore  the  existing 
constitution  to  regular  working  order.  One  of  his  laws 
.enacted  that  offences  committed  during  intoxication  shoiJd 
be  punished  with  double  severity.  For  the  historian  of 
the  law  of  inheritance  some  interest  attaches  to  the  enact- 
ment of  Pittacus  that  father  and  mother  should  succeed, 
in  equal  shares,  to  the  property  of  a  decca.sed  child.  Ji  He 
resigned  the  government  after  holding  it  for  ten  years,  and 
died  ton  years  later  (5G9  ii.c). 

The  stories  which  bring  rittacus  and  Cnrsiu  into  connexion  aro 
probably  mere  legend,  since  Ciiesus  wan  only  twenty  live  years  of 
ago  at  the  duto  of  Tittacus's  dc.ith.  nitncus  was  regarded  :is  a 
patternof  all  the  virtues,  anil  this  high  character  is  borne  out  by 
wh.-it  wo  know  of  him.  When  .-Mca-ns,  who  had  bittcrlv  assuilcil 
him  in  his  poems,  fell  into  his  hands,  lie  let  liim  go,  sa\iiig  that 
forgiveness  was  better  thnii  revenge.  Of  the  lands  which  his 
grateful  countrymen  woulil  have  bestowed  on  liini  lie  accepted  onl>- 
a  small  part.  Amongst  tho  sayings  attributed  to  him  are  these  :— 
it  is  hard  to  bo  good  ;  rule  reveals  tho  man  ;  tho  best  rule  is  that  of 
law;  speak  ill  neither  of  friend  nor  foe.  I'itlacus  was  also  a  luiet ; 
Diogenes  I.acrtius  sL-itcs  thai  he  composed  iix  hundred  elegiac  vcrsc».' 


150 


PITTSBURGH 


PITTSBURGH,  the  second  largest  city  of  Pennsylvania, 
and  the  leading  iron,  steel,  and  glass  manufacturing  centre 
of  the  United  States,  lies  at  the  confluence  of  the  Alle- 
gheny and  the  Monongahcla,  which  unite  here  to  form  the 
Ohio,  250  miles  west  by  north  of  Philadelphia.  The 
business  quarter  of  the  city  is  built  on  a  nearly  level 
triangular  plain,  between  the  two  rivers,  measuring  about 
three  quarters  of  a  mile  on  each  side  back  to  the  hills 
•which  rise  to  the  east. 

The  manufacturing  establishments  stretch  for  a  distance 
iof  7  miles  up  the  Allegheny,  7  up  the  Monongahela,  and 
2  down  the  Ohio,  and  occupy  the  strip  of  low  ground 
usually  a  few  hundred  feet  broad  between  the  river  banks 
and  the  hills  ■which  generally  face  them.  Tie  slope  of 
the  hills  to  the  east  of  the  business  quarter  is  closely  built 
v-,-ith  residences  and  retail  stores  for  the  distance  of  a  mile 
and  a  half,  but  the  summits,  400  or  500  feet  Jiigh,  are 
partially  unoccupied.  Beyond  the  hills  extends  a  rolling 
country  which,  for  a  space  of  about  5  miles  long  by  2 


the  city  is  obtained  from  a  view  of  the  suburban  quarters 
of  the  East  End  and  the  parks  and  residence  quarters  of 
Allegheny.  And,  all  disfigurement  and  dirtiness  notwith- 
standing, it  is  full  of  interesting  and  striking  sights.  The 
interiors  of  its  rolling-mills  and  glass-houses,  and  the  views 
of  the  city  from  the  surrounding  hills,  with  the  manufac- 
turing quarters  marked  out  by  their  smoke  by  day  and 
their  fires  by  night,  are  of  a  unique  and  picturesque  char- 
acter. Along  the  rivers  are  fleets  of  siearaers  touring 
barges  laden  with  coal  for  consumption  at  this  point  and 
for  shipment  to  the  cities  lower  down.  Joining  the 
various  quarters  of  the  city  are  ten  bridges  for  ordinary 
traffic  and  four  railway  viaducts,  among  which  the  Point 
Bridije  and  the  Smithfield  Street  Bridge  are  fine  examples 
of  engijieeriog  in.  iron.  Six  inclined-plane  railways  afford 
access  to  the  sununits  of  the  high  hills. 

i  Pittsburgh  is  of  historicnl  interest  from  the  struggle  (1755-1758) 
for  its  possession  between  England  and  France  in  the  Seven  Yeai-s' 
War,  and  the  fact  that  the  public  nnd  military  career  of  George 


...  .  ,  ,  ,  .,1  »  ,  .  .  mP  1  •ii"  '  Washington  was  commenced  Tvith  those  cnmpaigns  (see  Washikg- 
wide  IS  occupied  by  the  villas  of  tlie  citizens.  The  hills  j  ^ok).  ^Vith  the  termination  of  that  struggle  in  the  capture  of  the 
facing  the  rivers  are  generally  precipitous,  and  vary  in  I  ruins  of  Fort  Duquesne  by  the  British,  the  history  of  the  place 
height  from  300  to  600  feet,  but  at  different  points  they  becomes  that  of  an  ordinary  frontier  town.  A  new  fort  was  erected 
recede  from  the  river  banks  and  afford  sites  for  the  I  and  n.imed  Fort  Pitt  in  honour  of  the  prime  minister  whose  energy 
had  urged  the  war  forward  to  its  capture. 


and  wrested  the  Ohio  valley  and  Canada  from 
French  Control.  After  one  or  two  Indian 
wars,  in  which  the  post  was  threatened,  and 
on  one  occasion  nearly  taken.  Fort  Pitt  lost 
its  military  character  and  became  a  trading 
town.  The  first  streets  were  laid  out  neaJ- 
the  fort  in  1764,  and  in  1769  the  first  survey 
of  the  unsettled  lands  in  the  vicinity  was 
made  forthe  proprietors,  the  heirs  of  William 
Penn,  under  the  name  of  the  manor  of  Pitts- 
burgh. After  the  termination  of  the  revolu- 
tion, the  legislature  of  Pennsylvania  incor- 
porated Pittsburgh  as  a  village  on  April  22, 
1794,  and  on  March  IS,  1S16,  its  charter  as  a 
city  was  granted.  During  the  colonial  period 
a  dispute  arose  between  Virginia  and  Penn- 
sylvania as  to  the  possession  of  the  territory 
surrounding  the  town,  and  in  the  first  few 
years  cf  its  history  under  the  United  States 
it  attracted  attention  from  its  proximity  to 
the  liimoos  "  Whisky  Insurrection  "  of  Western 
Pennsylvania.  Alter  it  had  attained  a  popu- 
lation of  30,000  it  was  visited  on  the  10th  of 
April  1845  by  a  disastrous  conflagration  in 
which  the  buildings  in  the  business  centre, 
covering  a  space  of  56  acres,  and  valued  at 
$5,000,000  dollars,  were  consumed. 

in  the  Pittsburgh  of  to-day  there  is  little 
besides  names  of  streets,  hills,  and  suburbs  to  recall  the  struggle 
which  decided  the  Anglo-Saxon  charart»T  of  the  country.  The 
locality  knoivn  as  the  Point,  where  Fort  Duquesne  stood,  is  covered 
Avith  thickly  built  factories  and  dingy  tenements.  In  a  squalid  and 
obscure  court  a  portion  of  the  wall  of  a  blockhouse  erected  in  1763 
bv  Colonel  Boquet,  one  of  the  British  commandants  of  Fort  Pitt, 
still  forms  a  part  of  a  building,  and  on  the  wall  of  the  staircase  of 
Municipal  Hall  is  a  stone  bearing  the  inscription  with  which  that 
officer  commemorated  its  erection.  Immediately  across  the  Monon- 
gahela a  range  of  precipitous  hills  some  500  feet  high  bears  the  names 
of  Mount  Washington  and  Duquesne  Heights.  On  the  first  hill 
rising  to  the  east  of  the  level  part  of  the  citj%  a  red  granite  court- 
house, to  cost  $2,000,000,  is  in  process  of  construction  near  to  the 
spot  where  Major  Grant  was  defeated  and  slain,  .indjihe  new  build- 
ing will-  replace  the  brown  stone  structure  Tvhich  for  many  yeai-s 
fronted  on  the  street  bearing  that  unfortunate  officer's  name. 
Twelve  miles  away,  the  suburb  long  known  as  Braddock's  Field 
and  now  as  Braddock's,  attracts  -  attention  chiefly  by  the  roar  and 
glare  of  its  great  steel  manufacturing  establishment. 

Deriving  its  early  importance  in  commerce  from  its  position  at 
the  head  of  the  Ohio,  which  was  until  1855  the  principal  route 
between  the  middle  States  and  the  west  and  south -west,  Pittsburgh 
has  since  obtained  its  greatest  growtli  from  the  coal  which  under- 
lies nearly  all  Western  Pennsylvania.  This  has  made  tiie  city  and 
its  immediate  suburbs  the  most  important  manufacturing  district 
in  America,  in  both  pig  and  bar  iron,  steel,  glass,  and  copper.  la 
1883  Allegheny  county  produced  llj  per  cent,  of  the  pig  iron 
produced  in  the  United  States,  and  21  per  cent,  of  the  rolled  iron 
and  steel,  The  iron  industry  consists  of  16  blast  furnaces,  pro- 
ducing, in  1883,  59i..475  tons  ;  32  rolling  mills,  producing  472.35J 


suburbs  of  Lawrenceville  (on  the  Allegheny),  Hazlewood, 
and  Birmingham  (on  the  north  and  south  banks  respec- 
tively of  the  Monongahela),  which  are  within  the  muni- 
cipality of  Pittsburgh,  and  (on  the  north  bank  of  the 
Allegheny  and  Ohio)  for  the  city  of  Allegheny,  which, 
with  its  separate  municipal  governmept  and  population  of 
78,000  inhabitants,  is  commercially  and  socially  a  part  of 
Pittsburgh.  The  two  cities  together  cover  an  irregular 
space  of  9  miles  between  the  extreme  eastern  and  western 
points,  with  a  breadth  varying  from  2  to  4  miles. 

From  the  character  of  its  site  Pittsburgh  would  natur- 
ally be  very  attractive,  but  the  free  use  of  the  bituminous 
«oal  which  has  been  the  principal  agent  in  its  development 
has  so  spoiled  its  beauty  as  to  give  it  the  name  of  the 
Smoky  City.  Not  only  do  the  manufacturing  quarters 
show  long  lines  of  smoke-stained  buildings,  but  the  busi- 
ness quarter,  which  is  composed  of  rather  narrow  streets 
laid  out  early  in  the  century,  is  mainly  constructed  of 
brick  and  iron,  and  in  spite  of  the  presence  of  some  fine 
public  buildings  in  granite  and  brown  stone — the  municipal 
hall,  the  petroleum  exchange,  tTie  new  United  States  post 
office  and  court-house  (1884),  the  new  county  court-house 
(1884),  (kc. — has  a  generally  grimy  and  nnattractive 
Appearance.     A  better  opinion  of  the  wealth  and  taste  of 


P  I  T  —  P  1  U 


151 


tons  of  finished  iron  ;  anil  91  other  establishments,  turning  out  a 
largo  variety  of  other  manufactures  of  iron,  from  boilers  to  safes 
anil  steam  pumps.  The  steel  industry  comprises  20  large  mills 
with  an  output  for  1883  of  405,530  tons.  The  blast  furnaces  and 
rolling-mills  of  Pittsburgh  employ  a  capital  of  §23,910,000  and 
21,190  workmen,  the  steel  induBtry  $10,170, 000  and  7060  work- 
men. Next  in  importance  is  the  glass  manufacture,  in  which  75 
establishments  are  engaged,  24  making  table  ware,  i!4  window 
^lass,  10  green  glass  bottles,  and  9  lamp  chimneys.  The  capital 
invested  in  them  is  §5,985,000.  They  employ  6i42  hands,  and  the 
■value  of  their  last  reported  annual  production  is  $6,832,683.  The 
coal  and  coke  industry  of  the  disbict,  which  Ls  controlled  mainly 
by  Pittsburgh,  comprises  a  capital  of  ?26, 406,500,  employs  23,621 
miners  and  other  labourers,  and  makes  an  annual  output  of 
7,720,000  tons  of  coal  and  2,760,000  tons  of  coke,  valued  at 
^16,600,000.  The  total  oi  all  the  manufacturing  industries  of  the 
city  is  1380  establishments,  with  ^105,401,481  of  capital,  employing 
85,936  workmen  of  all  kinds,  and  producing  to  the  value  of 
S149, 721^19.  The  wholesale  trade  of  the  city  is  ,much  less 
important  than  its  manufacturing  industries,  and  with  a  few 
exceptions  is  confined  to  the  immediate  vicinity.  It  includes  90 
firms  with  an  aggiegate  capital  of  Sll,206,000  and  total  Eales  of 
4125,390,472.  Wituin  the  last  year  a  new  and  unitjue  industry 
has  been  developed.  By  drilling  in  the  earth  to  a  depth  of 
1200  to  2000  feet,  what  is  practically  the  fire-damp  of  the  coal 
mine  is  tapped  in  such  quantity  that  it  comes  to  the  surface  in 
great  force.  It  has  been  found  to  bo  useful  as  a  fuel  for  all  the 
purposes  of  coal  except  the  smelting  of  ores  in  blast  furnaces;  and, 
as  it  is  cheaper  both  for-  making  steam  and  for  the  heating  of  the 
iron  and  glass  furnaces,  its  adoption  has  been  general  among  the 
tnanufacturers. 

As  the  railway  system  has  developed,  ■  the  important  boating 
interest  of  Pittsburgh  has  become  confined  to  the  transportation  of 
coal  from  the  Monongabela  river  min^s  to  the  down-river  .cities. 
The  coal  is  only  taken  out  when  freshets  have  raised  the  river,  and 
at  that  time  Heets  of  steamers,  each  towing  from  eight  to  fifteen 
barges,  covering  acres  in  .extent  and  carrying  thousands  of  tons  of 
coal,  start  down  stream.  The  total  steam  tonnage  of  Pittsburgh 
is  36, 845  tons  with  163  vessels,  but  the  addition  of  the  barges  brings 
the  tonnage  up  to  1,359,972  andtho  number  of  vessels  to  3208. 

Pittsburgh  is  stated  to  be  the  origin  of  more  railway  freight  than 
any  other  point  in  the  country.  There  are  a  largo  number  of  lines, 
under  the  control  of  three  great  companies.  The  most  important 
is  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad,  whoso  trunk  lines  pass  through  tne 
city,  and  number  amoung  their  feeders  the  West  Pennsylvania ; 
the  Allegheny  Valley  ;  the  Pittsburgh,  "Virginia,  and  Charleston  ; 
the  Pittsburgh,  Cincinnati,  and  St  Louis  ;  the  Pittsburgh,  Fort 
■Wayne,  and  Chicago-,  and  the  Cloveland.and  Pittsburgh  Eailroads. 
The  Pittsburgh  division  of  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railroad  gives 
a  connexion  with  that  trunk  line,  and  by  the  Pittsburgh  and 
Wcslem,  znd  the  Pittsburgh,  Cleveland,  and  Toledo,  reaehes  the 
Chicago  branch  of  the  same  system  to  the  west.  The  Pittsburgh 
and  ljl;e  Erie  affords  the  New  York  Central  and  the  New  York, 
Pennsylvania,  and  Ohio  lines  an  access  to  Pittsburgh,  while  its 
exltnsion  under  the  name  of  the  Pittsburgh,  MacKeesport,  and 
Youghiogheny  penetrates  the  coal  and  coke  district  to  the  south- 
east. 

In  1796,  by  the  first  iiccurate  census  on  record,  the  population 
of  Pittsburgh  was  1395.  By  1810  it  had  increased  to  4968  ;  by 
1820  to  7248  ;  by  1830  to  12,452  ;  by  1840  to  21,115  ;  by  1850  to 
36,001  ;  by  1860  to  49,221  ;  by  >870  to  86,076.  In  1874  the  con- 
solidation of  outlying  boroughs  made  the  population,  according 
to  the  census  of  1870,  121,769  ;  and  in  1880  this  had  increased  to 
156,389.  These  figures  do  not  comprise  the  population  of  Alle- 
gheny, which  was  28,702  in  18C0,  53,180  in  1870,  and-78,682  in 
1880.  Including  the  manufacturing  and  residential  suburbs,  the 
total  population  by  the  census  of  1880  was  274,160  ;  and,  with  the 
large  extension  of  manufacturing  and  building  that  has  gone  on 
«ince  then,  it  was  estimated  in  18S4  at  325,000. 

The  municipal  governments  of'Pittsburgh  and  Allegheny  are  each 
composed  of  a  mayor,  controller,  and  treasurer,  witli  city  councils 
in  two  branches  styled  respectively  select  and  common.  These  arc 
«loctod  by  the  people,  and  appoint  other  administrative  officials  to 
take  charge  of  tiio  police  and  fire  departments,  assessment^!,  and 
public  works.  The  total  assesiiod  valuation  of  the  city  of  Pitts- 
burgh  for  (jurposes  of  taxation  is  $101,508,603,  on  which  a  revenue 
is  collected  for  all  purposes  of  $2,777,406.  Allegheny  has  an 
assessed  valuation,  of  $40,707,858,  and  spends  $0.')0,0QO  annually.' 
The  total  indebtedness  of  Pittsburgh  is  §14,197,800,  of  which 
nearly  $10,000,000  was  expended  for  waterworks.,  and  street 
pavements.     The  debt  of  Allegheny  is  but  $1,400,000. 

The  school  system  of  each  city  is  governed  by  a  centra!  boanl  of 
education  and  ward  boards,. both  elected  by  papular  vote.  The 
I'ittsbutgh  system  comprises  a  fine  stone  high  school  overlooking 
the  city,  and  62  ward  schools,  in ,  which  are  469  teachers  nud 
23,629  schol.ars,  ilie  approximate  annual  expenditure  being 
9650,000.      In  the  Allegheny  system  there  are  the  high  school 


and  18  ward  schools,  with  207  teachers,  9392  scholars,  and  an 
annual  expenditure  of  about  $200,000.  The  principal  institutions 
established  by  public  taxation  are  the  Rivirside  Sbite  Peniten- 
tiary, completed  in  1884  in  the  lower  part  of  Allegheny;  the 
Morganza  Reform  School ;  the  workhouse  at  Clarcmcnt,  on  the 
Allegheny  river ;  and  the  Pittsburgh,  Allegheny,  and  County 
poorhouses. 

The  churches  and  chapels  in  Pittsburgh  and  Allegheny  number 
237  :  67  are  Roman  Catholic,  including  13  monastic  and  conventual 
establishments  ;  53  represent  the  various  branches  of  Presbyterian- 
ism  ;  39  are  llethodist  Episcopal,  and  16  Protestant  Episcopal. 
Among  the  leading  examples  of  clmrch  architecture  arc  St  Paul's 
Cathedral  (Roman  Catholic),  Trinity  and  St  Peter's  (Protestant 
Episcopal),  the  First  and  Third  Presbyterian  and  the  German 
Lutheran  churches  in  Pittsburgh,  and  the  Noith  Presbyterian 
in  Allegheny.  Private  charity  has  established  the  West  Penn. 
Hospital  with  a  large  branch  for  the  treatment  of  the  insane  at 
Dixmont,  the  Homeopathic  Hospital,  the  llercy  H.ospitjil,  the 
Pittsburgh  Infirmary,  the  Free  Dispensary,  the  North  Side  Hospi- 
tal, and  St  Francis  Hospital ;  and  18  asylums  for  oi'phans  and  the 
aged  and  infu'm  are  maintained  throughout  the  two  cities.  The 
collegiate  institutions  comprise  the  Western  University,  the 
Western  Theological  Seminary  (Presbyterian),  the  United  Presby- 
terian Seminary,  the  Catholic  College,  the  Pennsylvania  Female 
College,  and  the  Pittsburgh  Female  College.  (J.  F.  H.) 

PITTSFIELD,  a  borough' and  township  of  the  United 
States,  the  shire  town  of  Berkshire  county,  Massachusetts, 
lies  at  a  height  of  from  1000  to  1200  feet  above  the  sea 
on  a  plain  between  the  Hoosacs  on  the  east  and  the 
Taconics  on  the  west.  It  is  traversed  by  the  headwaters 
of  the  Housatonic  and  Hoosac  rivers,  and  derives  its  supply 
of  drinking  water  from  Lake  Ashley,  a  romantic  loch  on 
the  top  of  the  Washington  Hills,  7  miles  to  the  south-east 
As  the  northern  terminus  of  the  Housatonic  Railroad,  and 
a  junction  on  the  Boston  and  Albany  and  the  Pittsfield 
and  North  Adams  Railroads,  it  is  an  important  centre  of 
tra^c.  Most  of  the  dwelling  houses  are  built  of  wood. 
Among  the  public  edifices  are  a  court-house,  in  white 
marble ;  the  Berkshire  Athenaeum,  with  a  free  library  and 
reading-room  ;  the  Roman  Catholic  church  of  St  Joseph,  in 
marble  ;  the  Methodist  church,  a  spacious  edifice  of  brick ; 
the  First  Congregational  church  (rebuilt  in  1853),  for 
thirty  years  under  the  charge  of  Rev.  John  Todd,  author 
of  the  Student's  Manual ;  and  the  Maplewood  Institute  for 
young  ladies.  The  Berkshire  Medical  Institute  (1S22) 
ceased  to  exist  in  1869.  There  is  a  small  park  with  a  fine 
soldiers'  monument  (1872)  in  the  heart  of  the  town,  as 
well  as  a  larger  park  with  a  race-course  in  tlio  eastern 
suburb.  Cotton  ond  woollen  goods,  silk,  knit  goods, 
shoes,  and  tacks  are  among  the  local  manufaeturea.  The 
population  in  1860  was  8045  ;  in  1870,  11,132  ;  in  'l880, 
13,364.  Pittsfield,  which  once  formed  part  of  the  Indian 
domain  of  Pontoosuc,  and  for  a  time  was  known  as  Boston 
Plantation,  was  incorporated  in  1761,  and  received  its 
present  name  in  honnur  of  the  carl  of  Clmthani.  Oliver 
W.  Holmes  long  resided  on  a  small  farm  two  miles  south 
of  Pittsfield. 

PITTSTON,  a  borough  of  the  United  States,  in 
Luzerne  county,  Pennsylvania,  on  the  east  bank  of  tho 
Susquehanna,  just  below  the  confluence  of  the  Lackawanna, 
105  miles  corth  by  west  of  Philadelphia.  It  is  tho  centre 
of  tho  Wyoming  anthracite  region  aud  the  seat  of  tlie 
Pennsylvania  Coal  Company's  operations,  contains  knit- 
ting mills,  planing  mills,  terra  cotta  works,  a  stovo 
factory,  lumber  yards,  <fcc.,  and  comumnds  four  distinct 
railway  lines.  >  The  population  was  G760  in  1870  and 
7472  in  1880.  -If  West  I'ittston  (a  borougli  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Susquehanna,  with  which  Pittston  communi- 
cates by  two  bridges)  were  included,  tho  total  would  lie 
10,016. 

PIUS. I.  Hardly  "anything  it  known  with  certainty 
tcspecting,  Pius  L,  except  that  ho  was  bishop  of  Rome 
from  158  to  167  a.d.  He  is  said  to  have  been  born  at 
Aqiiilcia  and  to  have  been  the  son  of  a  certain  Rulinus  ; 
it  is  added  that  he  suficred  marlyrdom,   but,  although 


152 


PIUS 


he  is  celebrated  as  a  martyr  in  the  breviary,  there  seems 
no  other  evidence  for  this  assertion.  A  few  letters  extant 
under  his  name  are  spurious. 

PIUS  II.  (Enea  Silvio  Piccolomini,  commonly  known  in 
literature  as  ^neas   Sylvius),  pope   from   1458  to  1464, 
"  whose  character  reflects  almost  every  tendency  of  the  age 
in  which  he  lived,"  was  born  at  Corsignano  in  the  Sienese 
territory,  October  18,  1405,  of  a  noble  but  decayed  family. 
After  studying  at  the  universities  of  Siena  and  Florence,  be 
settled  in  theiormer  city  as  a  teacher,  but  in  1431  accepted 
the  post  of  secretary  to  Domenico  Capranica,  bishop  of 
Fermo,  then  on  his  way  to  Basel  to  protest  against  the  in- 
justice of  the  new  pope  Eugenius  IV.  in  refusing  him  the 
c^rdinalate  for  which  he  had  been  designated  by  Martin  V. 
Arpving  at  Basel  after  numerous  adventures,  he  successively 
served    Capranica  and    several  other  masters.       In   1435 
he  was  sent  by  Cardinal  Albergata,   Eugenius's  legate  at 
the  council,  on  a  secret  mission  to  Scotland,  the  object  of 
which  is  variously  related,  even  by  himself.     He  visited 
England  as  well  as  Scotland,  underwent  many  perils  and 
vicissitudes   in    both  countries,    and  has   left   a  valuable 
account  of  each.     Upon  his  return  he  sided  actively  with 
the  council  in  its  conflict  with  the  pope,  and,  although  still 
a  layman,  obtained  a  leading  share  in  the  direction  of  its 
affairs.     But  when  in  1442  the  council  elected  Amadeus, 
duke  of  Savoy,  as  an  antipope  under  the  name  of  Felix  V., 
vEneas,  perceiving  that  the  step  was  generally  disapproved, 
found  a  pretext  for  withdrawing  to  the  emperor  Frederick 
III.'s  court  at  Vienna.     He  was  there  crowned  imperial 
poet  laureate,  and  obtained  the  patronage  of  the  emperor's 
chancellor,  Kaspar  Schlick,  a  love  adventure  of  whose  at 
Siena  he  celebrated  in  his  romance,  Eunahis  and  Lucretia. 
His  character  had  hitherto  been  that  of  an  easy  man  of 
the  world,  with   no  pretence    to   strictness  in    morals  or 
consistency  in  politics.     He  now  began  to  be  more  regular 
in  the  former  respect,  and  in  the  latter  adopted  a  decided 
line  by  making  his  peace  with  Rome.     Being  sent  on  a 
mission  to  Rome  in  1445,  with   the  ostensible  object  of 
inducing   Eugenius   to  convoke   a   new  council,   he   was 
absolved    from    ecclesiastical   censures,    and    returned    to 
Germany  under  an  engagement  to  assist  the  pope.     This 
he  did  most  elfectually  by  the  diplomatic  dexterity  with 
which  he  smoothed  away  diilerences  between  the  court  of 
Romeand  the  (Jerman  electors;  and  he  had  a  leading 
part    in  the  compromise   by   which,  in  1447,  the  dying 
Eugenius  accepted   the   reconciliation   tendered    by   the 
German  princes,  and  the  council  and  the  antipope  were 
left  without  support.     He  had  already  taken  orders,  and 
one  of  the  first  acts  of  Eugenius's  successor  Nicholas  V. 
was  to  make  him  bishop  of  Trieste.     In  1450  he  was  sent 
ambassador    by   the   emperor   Frederick   to  negotiate  his 
marriage    with    the  Princess   Leonora   of  Naples,    which 
object  he  successfully  achieved ;  in  1451  he  undertook  a 
mission  to  Bohemia,  and  concluded  a  satisfactory  arrange- 
ment with  the  Hussite  chief  George  Podiebrad ;  in  1452 
he  accompanied  Frederick  to  Rome,   where  the  emperor 
wedded  Leonora  and  was  crowned  king  of  the  Romans. 
In   August  1455   ./Eneas  again  arrived   in-  Rome  on  an 
embassy  to  proflfer  the  obedience  of  Germany  to  the  new 
pope,  Calixtus  IIL     He  brought  strong  recommendations 
from  the  emperor  and  King  Ladislaus  of  Hungary  for  his 
nomination  to  the  cardinalate,  but  delays  arose  from  the 
pope's  resolution  to  promote  his  own  nephews  first,  and  he 
did  not  attain  the  object  of  his  ambition  until  December 
in  the  following  year. 

CaUxtus  III.  died  on  August  6,  1458.  On  August  10 
the  cardinals  entered  into  conclave.  The  wealthy  cardinal 
of  Rouen,  though  a  Frenchman  and  of  exceptionable 
character,  seemed  certain  to  be  elected.  ^Eneas  has  told 
us   in   a  passage  of   his  own  history  of  his  times,  long 


retrenched  from  that  work  but  printed  clandestinely  in  the 
Conclavi  de'  Ponlijici  Komani,  by  what  art,  energy,  and 
eloquence  he  frustrated   this  false  step.     It  seemed  but 
meet  that  the  election  should  fall  upon  himself  :  no  other 
candidate  appears  to  have  been  seriously  thought  of ;  nor, 
although  the  sacred  college  probably  included  a  few  men 
of   higher  moral    standard,  had  it   any  on  the  whole  so 
worthy  of  the  tiara.     It  was  the  peculiar  faculty  of  .(Eneas 
to  accommodate  himself  perfectly  to  whatever  position  he 
might  be  called  upon  to  occupy  ;  it  was  his  peculiar  good 
fortune  that  every  step  in  life  had  placed  hira  in  circum- 
stances appealing  more  and  more  to  the  better  part  of  his 
nature,  an  appeal  to  which  he  had  never  failed  to  respond. 
The  party  pamphleteer  had  been  more  respectable  than  the 
private  secretary,  the  diplomatist  than  the  pamphleteer, 
the  cardinal  than  the  diplomatist ;  now  the  unscrupulous 
adventurer  and  licentious  novelist  of  a  few  short  years  ago 
seated  himself  quite  naturally  in  the  chair  of  St  Peter, 
and  from  the  resources  of  his  versatile  character  produced 
without  apparent  effort  all  the    virtues  and  endowments 
becoming  his  exalted  station.     After  allying  himself  with 
Ferdinand,  the  Aragonese  claimant  of  the  throne  of  Naples, 
his  next  important  act  was  to  convene  a  congress  of  the 
representatives  of  Christian  princes  at  Mantua  for  joint 
action  against  the  Turks.     His  long  progress  to  the  place 
of  assembly  resembled  a  triumphal  procession ;  and  the 
congress,    a   complete    failure    as    regarded   its  ostensible 
object,  at  least  showed  that  the  impotence  of  Christendom 
was  not  owing  to  the  pope.     On  his  return  from  the  con- 
gress Pius  spent  a  considerable  time  in  his  native  district 
of  Siena,  and  has  described  his  delight  and  the  charms  of 
a  country  life  in  very  pleasing  language.     He  was  recalled 
to  Rome  by  the  disturbances  occasioned  by  Tiburzio  de 
Maso,    who   was   ultimately   seized   and   executed.     The 
papal  states  were  at  this  time  greatly  troubled  by  rebellious 
barons  and  marauding  condottieri,  but  these  evils  gradu- 
ally abated.     The  Neapolitan  war  was  also  terminated  by 
the  success  of  the  pope's  ally  Ferdinand.     In  July  1461 
Pius  canonized  St  Catherine  of  Siena,  and  in  October  of 
the  same  3'ear  he   gained  what  at  first  ajipeared  to  be  a 
most  brilliant  success  by  inducing  the  new  king  of  France, 
Louis  XI.,  to  abolish  the  pragmatic  sanction,  by  which  the 
pope's  authority  in  France  had  been  grievously  impaired. 
But  Louis  had  expected  that  Pius  would  in  return  espouse 
the  French  cause  in  Naples,  and  when  he  found  himself 
disappointed  he  virtually  re-established  the  pragmatic  sanc- 
tion by  royal  ordinances.     Pius  was   also   engaged  in  a 
series  of  disputes  with  the  Bohemian  king  and  the  count 
of  Tyrol,  and  the  crusade  for  which  the  congress  of  Mantua 
had  been  convoked  made  no  progress.     The  pope  did  his 
best :  he  addressed  an  eloquent  letter  to  the  sultan  urging 
him  to  become  a  Christian ;  he  succeeded  in  reconciling 
the  emperor  and  the  king  of  Hungary,  and  derived  great 
encouragement  as  well  as  pecuniary  advantage  from  the 
discovery  of  mines  of  alum  in  the  papal  territory.     But 
France  was  estranged  ;  the  duke  of  Burgundy  broke  his 
positive  promise  ;  ililan  was  engrossed  with  the  attempt  to 
seize  Genoa  ;  Florence  cynically  advised  the  pope  to  let  the 
Turks  and  the  Venetians  wear  each  other  out.     Pius  was 
unawares    nearing    his   end,    and    his    malady   probably 
prompted  the  feverish  impatience  with  which  on  June  18, 
1464,  he  assumed  the  cross  and  departed  for  Ancona  to 
conduct  the  crusade  in  person.     It  seemed  certain  that  the 
issue  of  such  an  enterprise  could  only   be  ridiculous  or 
disastrous.     Pius  II. 's  good  genius  again  stepped  in,  and 
rendered  it  pathetic.     He  was  suffering  from  fever  when 
he   left    Rome.     The   crusading   army   melted   away   at 
Ancona   for   want    of   transport,    and   when    at   last   the 
Venetian  fleet  arrived  the  dying  pope  could  only  view  it 
from  a  window.     He  expired  two  days  afterwards,  August 


PIUS 


153 


14,  1464,  in  his  death  as  in  his  life  a  figure  picturesque 
and  significant  far  beyond  the  wont  of  Roman  pontiffs. 
He  was  succeeded  by  Paul.  IL 

Pius,  indeed,  regarded  as  a  man  and  not  merely  as  an 
historical  personage,  is  the  most  interesting  of  all  the 
successors  of  St  Peter.  It  is  easy  to  take  his  character  to 
pieces,  but  the  aroma  of  something  exquisite  lingers  around 
every  fragment.  He  bad  a  healthy,  sincere,  loving  nature, 
frank  and  naive  even  in  his  aberrations  and  defects,  which 
seem  after  all  sufficiently  venial.  The  failings  of  other 
popes  have  most  frequently  been  those  of  the  priest,  and 
therefore  in  the  true  sense  of  the  term  inhuman.  It  is 
a  refreshing  transition  to  the  faults  of  the  adventurer,  the 
diplomatist,  the  man  of  letters  and  pleasure.  The  leading 
trait  of  Pius's  character  was  his  extreme  impressionable- 
ness.  Chameleon-like  he  took  colour  from  surrounding  cir- 
cumstances, and  could  always  depend  on  being  what  these 
circumstances  required  him  to  be  As,  therefore,  his 
prospects  widened  and  his  responsibilities  deepened,  his 
character  widened  and  deepened  too ;  and  he  who  had 
entered  upon  life  a  shifty  adventurer  quitted  it  a  model 
chief  shepherd.  His  virtues  were  not  only  great,  but  the 
most  conspicuous  were  those  especially  characteristic  of 
the  finer  natures.  While  he  vied  with  any  man  in  indus- 
try, prudence,  wisdom,  and  courage,  he  excelled  most  men 
in  simplicity  of  tastes,  constancy  of  attachments,  kindly 
l)layfulness,  magnanimity,  and  mercy.  As  chief  of  the 
church  he  was  able  and  sagacious,  and  showed  that  he 
comprehended  the  conditions  on  which  its  monopoly  of 
spiritual  power  could  for  a  season  be  maintained ;  his 
views  were  far-seeing  and  liberal ;  and  he  was  but  slightly 
swayed  by  personal  ends.  He  is  especially  interesting  as 
the  type  of  the  scholar  and  publicist  who  wins  his  way  by 
intellectual  strength,  foreshadowing  the  age  to  come  when 
the  pen  should  be  mightier  than  the  sword ;  and  no  less 
as  the  figure  in  whom  the  mediaeval  and  the  modern  spirit 
are  most  distinctly  seen  to  meet  and  blend,  ere  the  latter 
definitively  gains  the  mastery. 

Pius  was  a  versatile  and  voiaminous  author,  one  of  the  best  and 
most  industrious  of  his  period.  His  most  important  work  is  his 
Commenlnries  of  his  owA  Times,  published  in  1584  under  the  namo 
of  Gobelinus,  to  whom  it  has  been  ascribed,  but  who  was  in  fact 
only  the  copyist.  It  appears  to  have  been  altered  to  some  slight 
txtent  by  his  secretary  Campanus.  Numerous  passages  suppressed 
at  tlio  time  of  publication  have  been  recently  published  in  the  Trans- 
actions  of  the  Accademia  de'  Lincei  by  Signer  Cugnone,  together 
witli  other  inedited  works.  Pius's  Commentaries  are  delightful 
reading,  and  their  historical  value  is  very  great.  "  Pius  II.,  says 
Oreighton,  "  is  the  first  writer  who  attempted  to  represent  the 
present  as  it  would  look  to  posterity,  who  consciously  applied  a 
scientific  conception  of  history  to  the  explanation  and  arrange- 
ment of  passing  events."  His  Epistles,  wnich  were  collected  oy 
himself,  are  also  an  important  source  of  historical  information. 
The  most  valuable  of  htS  minor  historical  writings  are  his  histories 
of  Bohemia  and  of  the  emperor  Frederick  III.,  the  latter  partly 
aulobiographical.  He  sketched  geographical  treatises  on  Europe 
and  Asia,  and  in  early  and  middle  life  produced  numerous  tracts 
on  the  political  and  theologicnl  controversies  of  his  day,  as  well  as 
on  ethical  subjects.  Pius  was  greatly  admired  as  a  poet  by  his 
contemporaries,  but  his  reputation  in  belles  Icttrcs  rests  princi- 
pally aipon  his  Eurialus  and  Lncretia,  which  continues  to  be  read 
to  this  d-.y,  partly  from  its  truth  to  nature,  and  partly  from  the 
singularity  of  an  erotic  novel  being  written  by  a  pope.  Ho  also 
composed  some  comedies,  one  of  which  alone  is  extant,  and  as  yet 
only  in  MS.  All  these  works  are  in  Latin.  Pius  was  not  an 
eminent  scholar  :  his  Latin  is  frequently  incorrect,  and  he  knew 
little  Greek  ;  but  his  writings  have  high  literary  qualities,  and 
will  always  be  prized  as  vivid  and  accurate  reproductions  of  the 
spirit  of  a  very  remarkable  age. 

All  the  chief  Authorities  for  Pius's  life  arc  sifted  and  condensed  In  tho  odmlr- 
•We  biography  hy  Volgt  (3  voh.,  Devlin,  18iB-63).  Trofessiir  Crcl«thlon,  In  his 
inaslcrly  History  of  the  Pa pacij  during  the  Ite/ormatiort  (%-ol.  11.,  London,  1882), 
hns  f*lvcn  tho  English  render  the  substance  of  Volgt's  Durratlvc,  whtlo  preserving 
a  full  Indepcndoiiec  of  Judgfticiit.  (R.  G.) 

PIUS  III.  (Francesco  Todeschini),  pope  from  September 
22  to  October  18,  1.503,  was  born  at  Biena,  May  9,  1439. 
As  the  nephew  of  Pius  II.  by  his  sister  Laodamia,  ho  was 

lO-S* 


received  into  fa«<)ur  by  that  pontiff,  who  permitted  him  to 
assume  the  name  and  arms  of  the  Piccolomini,  and  raised 
him,  when  only  twenty-two  years  of  age,  to  the  see  of 
Siena  and  the  cardinalate.  He  was  employed  by  subse- 
quent popes  in  several  important  legations,  as  by  Paul  II. 
at  the  diet  of  Ratisbon,  and  by  Sixtus  IV.  to  secure  the 
restoration  of  ecclesiastical  authority  in  Umbria  Amid 
the  disturbances  consequent  upon  the  death  of  Alexander 
VI.  he  was,  by  the  not  wholly  disinterested  influence  of 
Cardinal  Rovera,  elected  pope  on  September  22,  1503,  his 
installation  taking  place  on  the  8th  October  following. 
He  at  once  took  in  hand  the  reform  of  the  papal  court  and 
arrested  Caesar  Borgia;  but  after  a  brief  pontificate  of 
twenty-six  days  he  died  (October  18,  1.'303)  of  an  ulcer 
in  the  leg,  or,  as  some  have  alleged,  of  poison  administered 
at  the  instigation  of  Pandolfo  Petrucci,  governor  of  Siena. 
Ho  was  succeeded  by  Julius  11. 

PIUS  IV.  (Giovanni  Angelo  Medici),  pope  from  1559 
to  1565,  was  born  of  humble  parentage  at  Milan,  March 
31,  1499.  His  early  career  connects  itself  in  some 
measure  with  the  romantic  rise  of  his  elder  brother  from 
the  position  of  bravo  to  that  of  Marchese  di  Marignano. 
After  studying  at  Bologna  and  acquiring  reputation  as  a 
jurist,  he  went  in  1527  to  Rome,  and  as  the  favourite  of 
Paul  III.  was  rapidly  promoted  to  the  governorship  of 
several  towns,  the  archbishopric  of  Ragusa,  the  vice- 
legateship  of  Bologna,  and  in  April  1549  to  tie  cardinal- 
ate.  On  the  death  of  Paul  IV.  he  was  elected  pope  on 
December  28,  1559,  and  installed  on  the  6th  January 
1560.  His  first  public  acts  of  importance  were  to  grant  a 
general  pardon  to  the  participators  in  the  riot  which  had 
closed  the  previous  pontificate,  and  to  bring  to  trial  the 
nephews  of  his  predecessor,  of  whom  Cardinal  Carlo 
Caraffa  was  strai^led,  and  the  duke  Paliano,  with  his 
nearest  connexions,  beheaded.  On  the  18th  January  1562 
the  council  of  Trent,  which  had  been  suspended  by  Julius 
III.,  was  opened  for  the  third  time.  Great  skill  and 
caution  were  necessary  to  effect  a  settlement  of  the  ques- 
tions before  it,  inasmuch  as  tho  three  principal  nations 
taking  part  in  it,  though  at  issue  with  regard  to  their  own 
special  demands,  were  prepared  to  unite  their  forces 
against  the  demands  of  Rome.  Pius,  howev;r,  aided  by 
Morone  and  Borromeo,  proved  himself  equal  to  the  emer- 
gency, and  by  judicious  management  and  concession 
brought  the  council  to  a  termination  satisfactory  to  the 
disputants  and  favourable  to  the  pontifical  authority.  Its 
definitions  and  decrees  were  confirmed  by  a  bull  dated 
January  26,  1564;  and,  though  they  were  received  with 
certain  limitations  by  France  and  Spain,  tho  famous  Creed 
of  Pius  IV.,  or  Tridentine  Creed,  remained  tho  authorita- 
tive expression  of  the  Catholic  faith.  The  more  marked 
manifestations  of  stringency  during  his  pontificate  appear 
to  have  been  promjited  rather  than  spontaneous,  his 
personal  character  inclining  him  to  moderation  and  case. 
Thus  a  monitory,  issued  in  1564,  summoning  tho  queen  of 
Navarre  before  the  Inquisition  on  a  charge  of  Calvinism, 
was  withdrawn  by  him  in  deference  to  tho  indignant  pro 
tcst  of  Charles  IX.  ;  and  in  the  same  year  ho  ]iublislied  a 
bull  granting  the  use  of  the  cup  to  tho  laity  of  Austria 
and  Bohemia.  One  of  his  strongest  passions  appears  to 
have  been  that  of  building,  which  somewhat  strained  his 
resources  in  contributing  to  tho  ndornment  of  Rome,  and 
in  carrying  on  the  work  of  restoration,  erection,  and  forti- 
fication in  various  parts  of  tho  ecclesiastical  states.  A 
conspiracy  against  him,  headed  by  tho  Catholic  fanatic 
Benedetto  Accoiti,  was  discovered  and  crushed  in  1565. 
He  died  shortly  afterwards,  on  December  9th  of  that  year, 
and  was  succeeded  by  Pius  V. 

PIUS  V.  (Miohcle  Ghi.slicri),  \)0\)e  from  15G6  to  1572, 
was  born  at  Bosco  in  tho  duchy  of  Milan,  January  17, 


154 


PIUS 


1504.  At  the  age  of  fourteen- he  entered  the  Dominican 
order,  passing  from  the  monastery  of  Voghera  to  that  of 
Vigevano,  and  thence  to  Bologna.  Having  been  ordained 
priest  at  Genoa  in  1528,  he  settled  at  Pavia,  where  he 
lectured  for  sixteen  years.  He  soon  gave  evidence  of  the 
opinions  which  found  a  more  practical  expression  in  his 
pontificate,  by  advancing  at  Parma  thirty  propositions  in 
support  of  the  papal  chair  and  against  the  heresies  of  the 
time.  As  president  of  more  than  one  Dominican  monast- 
ery he  proved  himself  a  rigid  disciplinarian,  and,  in 
accordance  with  his  own  wish  to  discharge  the  office  of 
inquisitor,  received  an  appointment  to  that  post  at  Como. 
His  zeal  provoking  resentment,  he  was'  compelled  in  1 550 
to  return  to  Rome,  where,  after  having  been  employed  in 
several  inquisitorial  missions,  he  was  elected  to  the  com- 
missariat of  the  Holy  Office.  Paul  IV.,  who  while  still 
Cardinal  Caraffa  had  shown  him  special  favour,  conferred 
upon  him  the  bishopric  of  Sutri  and  Nepi,  the  cardinalate 
with  the  title  of  Alessandrino,  and  the  honour — unique  Ln 
one  not  of  pontifical  rank — of  the  supreme  inquisitorship. 
tJnder  Pius  IV.  he  became  bishop  of  Jlondovi  in  Pied- 
mont, but  his  opposition  to  that  pontiff  procured  his 
dismissal  from  the  palace  and  the  abridgment  of  his 
authority  as  inquisitor. 

Before  Ghislieri  could  return  to  his  episcopate,  Pius  FV. 
died,  and  on  January  7,  1566,  he  was  elected  to  the  papal 
chair  with  duly  attendant  prodigies,  his  coronation  taking 
place  on  his  birthday,  ten  days  later.  Fully  alive  to  the 
necessity  of  restoring  discipline  and  morality  at  Rome  to 
ensure  success  without,  he  at  once  proceeded  to  reduce  the 
cost  of  the  papal  court,  compel  residence,  regulate  inns, 
expel  prostitutes,  and  assert  the  importance  of  ceremonial. 
In  his  wider  policy,  which  was  characterized  throughout 
by  a  stringency  which  tended  to  defeat  its  own  ends,  the 
maintenance  and  increase  of  the  efficacy  of  the  Inquisition 
and  the  enforcement  of  the  canons  and  decrees  of  the 
Tridentine  council  had  precedence  over  all  other  considera- 
tions. _  The  prudence  of  Commendone  alone  saved  him  at 
the  commencement  of  his  pontificate  from  trouble  with 
Germany,  as  in  the  general  diet  of  the  empire  at  Augsburg 
(March  26,  1566)  Pius  saw  a  threatSned  invasion  of  his 
own  supremacy  and  was  desirous  of  limiting  its  discussions. 
In  France,  where  his  influence  was  stronger,  he  directed 
the  dismissal  of  Cardinal  Odet  de  Coligny  and  seven 
bishops,  nullified  the  royal  edict  tolerating  the  extra-mural 
services  of  the  Reformers,  introduced  the  Roman  catechism, 
restored  papal  discipline,  and  strenuously  opposed  all  com- 
promise with  the  heretics — his  exertions  leading  up  in  no 
small  degree  to  the  massacre  of  St  Bartholomew.  In  the 
list  of  more  important  bulls  issued  by  him  the  famous  bull 
"In  Coena  Domini"  (1568)  takes  a  leading  place;  but 
amongst  others  throwing  light  on  his  character  and  policy 
there  may  be  mentioned  his  prohibition  of  qurestuary 
(February  1567  and  January  1570);  the  condemnation  of 
Michael  Baius,  the  heretical  professor  of  Louvain  (1567); 
the  reform  of  the  breviaiy  (July  1568) ;  the  denunciation 
of  the  diriim  nefas  (August  1568) ;  the  banishment  of  the 
Jews  from  the  ecclesiastical  dominions  except  Rome  and 
Ancona  (1569) ;  the  injunction  of  the  use  of  the  reformed 
missal  (July  1570);  the  confirmation  of  the  privileges  of 
the  Society  of  Crusaders  for  the  protection  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion (October  1570);  the  prohibition  of  discussions  con- 
cerning the  miraculous  conception  (November  1570) ;  the 
suppression  of  the  Fratres  Humiliati  for  alleged  profligacy 
(February  1571) ;  the  approbation  of  the  new  office  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  (March  1571);  the  enforcement  of  the 
daily  recitation  of  the  canonical  hours  (September  1571) ; 
and  the  purchase  of  assistance  against  the  Turks  by  offers 
of  plenary  pardon  (March  1572).  His  antagonism  to 
Elizabeth  was  sh5wn,  not  only  in  the  countenance  lent  by 


him  to  Jlary  Stuart  and  those  who  sought  in  her  name  to 
deliver  England  "  ex  turpissima  muliebris  libidinis  servi- 
tute,"  but  in  the  publication  of  a  bull,  dated  April  27, 
1570,  excommunicating  Elizabeth  and  releasing  her  sub- 
jects from  their  allegiance.  His  energy  was  in  no  respect 
more  favourably  exhibited  than  in  his  persistent  and  suc- 
cessful endeavours  to  form  a  general  league  against  the 
Turks,  as  the  result  of  which  the  battle  of  Lepanto  (Oct. 
7,  1571)  was  won  by  the  combined  fleet  under  Colonna. 
Three  national  synods  were  held  during  his  pontificate — 
at  Naples  under  Cardinal  Alfonso  Caraffa  (whose  family 
had,  after  inquiry,  been  reinstated  by  Pius  V.),  at  Milan 
under  Carlo  Borromeo,  and  at  Mechlin.  His  death  took 
place  on  May  1,  1572,  and  he  was  canonized  by  Clemenf 
XI.  on  May  24th  1712.  He  was  succeeded  by  Gregory 
XIII. 

PIUS  VI.  (Giovanni  Angelo  Braschi),  pope  from  1775 
to  1799,  was  born  at  Cesena,  December  27,  1717.  After- 
taking  the  degree  of  doctor  of  laws  in  1735,  he  went  to 
Ferrara  and  became  the  private  secretary  of  Cardinal 
Ruifo,  in  whose  bishopric  of  Ostia  and  Velletri  he  held  the 
post  of  uditore  until  1753.  His  .skill  in  the  conduct  of  a 
mission  to  the  court  of  Naples  won  him  the  esteem  of 
Benedict  XIV.  who  appointed  him  one  of  his  secretaries 
and  canon  of  St  Peter's.  In  1758  he  was  raised  to  the 
prelature  and  then  to  the  treasurership  of  the  apostolic 
chamber  by  Clement  XIII.,  whose  successor,  Clement 
XIV.  created  him  cardinal  on  the  26th  April  1773.  On 
the  death  of  Clement  XIV.  and  after  protracted  debate; 
Brasehi  was  elected  to  the  vacant  see  on  the  1 5th  February 
1775.  His  assumption  of  the  title  Pius  VI.  even  then 
re(!alled  to  the  populace  the  verse  current  in  the  pontificate 
of  Alexander  VI.  "  Semper  sub  Sextis  perdita  Roma  fuit," 
though  his  earlier  acts  gave  fair  promise  of  liberal  rule  and  ■ 
reform  in  tlie  defective  administration  of  the  papal  states. 
He  showed  discrimination  in  his  benevolences,  reprimanded 
Potenziani,  the  governor  of  Rome,  for  unsuppressed  dis- 
orders, appointed  a  council  of  cardinals  to  remedy  the 
state  of  thS  finances  and  relieve  the  pressure  of  imposts, 
called  to  account  Nicolo  Bischi  for  the  expenditure  of 
moneys  intended  for  the  .purchase  of  grain,  reduced  the 
a-nnual  disbursements  by  the  suppression  of  several  pen- 
sions, and  adopted  a  system  of  bounties  for  the  encourage- 
ment of  agriculture.  The  circumstances  of  his  election, 
however,  involved  him  in  difficulties  from  the  outset  of 
his  pontificate.  He  had  received  the  support  of  the 
ministers  of  the  crowns  and  the  anti-Jesuit  party  upon  a. 
tacit  understanding  that  he  would  continue  the  action  of 
Clement,  by  whose  brief  Dominus  ac  Redemptor  (1773)  tha 
dissolution  of  the  Society  of  Jesus  had  been  pronounced. 
On  the  other  hand  the  zelanti,  who  believed  him  secretly 
inclined  towards  Jesuitism,  expected  from  him  some 
reparation  for  the  alleged  wrongs  of  the  previous  reign. 
As  the  result  of  these  complications,  Pius  was  betrayed 
into  a  series  of  half  measures  which  gave  little  satisfaction 
to  either  party.  The  ease  of  Ricci  and  the  other  Jesuit* 
imprisoned  in  the  castle  of  St  Angelo  had  scarcely  been 
settled,  by  formal  discountenance  but  informal  relaxations 
and  final  release,  before  the  question  became  an  inter- 
national one.  Driven  from  devout  Catholic  countries,  the 
members  of  the  condemned  society  found  an  asylum  under 
the  rule  of  the  heretic  Frederick  II.  and  the  schismatic 
Catherine  II.,  who  welcomed  them  upon  educational 
grounds.  A  long  correspondence  ensued  in  which  both 
monarchs  maintained  their  right,  Catherine  carrying  the 
matter  still  further  and  wresting  from  Pius  a  series  of 
important  concessions.  Even  in  countries  acknowledging 
the  papal  authority  practical  protests  arose  which  tended 
to  its  limitation.  In  Austria  the_  social  and  ecclesiasti- 
cal reforms  undertaken  by  Joseph  II.  and  his  minister 


p 


I  u  s 


155 


I 


^.aunitz  touched  the  supremacy  of  Rome  so  nearly  that 
jl  the  hope  of  staying  them  Pius  adopted  the  exceptional 
course  of  visiting  Vienna  in  person.  He  left  Rome  oa  the 
■27th  February  17S2,  and  was  magnificently  received  by 
the  emperor,  but  his  mission  was  unattended  by  any 
marked  success.  In  Naples  difficulties  necessitating  cer- 
tain concessions  in  respect  of  feudal  homage  were  raised 
by  the  minister  Tannucci,  and  more  serious  disagreements 
arose  with  Leopold  I.  and  Ricci,  bishop  of  Pistoia  and 
Prato,  upon  questions  of  reform  in  Tuscany.  The  outbreak 
of  the  French  Revolution  followed,  and  Pius  in  vain 
endeavoured  to  preserve  the  ecclesiastical  discipline  and 
property.  The  old  Gallican  Church  was  suppressed;  the 
pontifical  and  ecclesiastical  possessions  in  Franco  were 
confiscated  ;  and  an  effigy  of  himself  was  burnt  by  the 
populace  at  the  Palais  Royal. .  The  ruurder  of  the  Re- 
publican agent,  Hugo  Basseville,  in  the  streets  of  Rome 
(January  1793)  gave  new  ground  of  offence;  the  papal 
court  was  charged  with  complicity  by  the  French  Conven- 
tion ;  and  Pius  threw  in  his  lot  with  the  league  against 
France.  In  1796  Napoleon  invaded  Italy,  defeated  the 
papal  troops,  and  occupied  Ancona  and  Loreto.  Pius  sued 
for  peace,  which  was  granted  at  Tolentino  on  the  19th 
February  1797  ;  but  on  the  2Sth  December  of  that  year, 
in  a  riot  created  by  some  Italian  and  French  revolution- 
ists. General  Duphot  of  the  French  embassy  was  killed  and 
1  new  pretext  furnished  for  invasion.  General  Berthier 
marched  to  Rome,  entered  it  unopposed  on  February  10, 
1798,  and,  proclaiming  it  a  republic,  demanded  of  the 
pope  the  renunciation  of  his  temporal  authority.  Upon 
his  refusal  he  was  taken  prisoner,  and  on  February  20th 
was  escorted  from  the  Vatican  to  Siena,  and  thence  from 
place  to  place — in  succession  to  Florence,  Parma,  Piacenza, 
Turin,  Grenoble,  and  Valence,  where  he  died  six  weeks 
later,  on  the  night  of  the  28th  August  1799,  Pius  Vil. 
succeeded  him. 

Tho  name  of  Pius  VI.  is  associated  with  many  and  often  un- 
popular attempts  to  revive  the  splendour  of  Leo  X.  in  the  promo- 
tion of  art  and  "public  works, — the  words  "  Munificentia  Pii  VI. 
<-.  IL,"  graven  in  all  parts  of  the  city,  giving  rise  amongst  his 
impoverished  subjects  to  such  satire  as  the  insertion  of  a  minute 
loaf  in  the  hands  of  Pasrjuin  with  that  inscription  beneath  it.  He 
is  best  remembered  in  connexion'  with  the  estatilishment  of  the 
museum  of  tho  Vatican,  commenced  at  his  suggestion  by  liis 
liredeccssor,  and  with  the  attempt  to  drain  the  Pontine  Marshes. 
In  the  latter  undertaking  large  sums  were  expended  to  such  small 
purpose  that  the  phrase  '  Sono  andate  alle  paludi  Pontine  "  passed 
into  a  proverb  applied  to  funds  employed  in  extravagant  projects. 
The  chief  result  was  the  restoration  of  the  Appian  Way  by  tho 
removal  of  the  additions  of  Trajan  juid  Theodorio  with  later, 
accumulations,  and  tho  erection  of  a  new  viaduct  to  Terracina  upoij 
the  original  road  of  Appius  Claudius. 

PIUS  VII.  (Gregorio  Luigi  Barnaba  Chiararaonti),  pope 
from  1800  to  1823,  wasbornatCesenaonAugust  14,  1742. 
After  studying  at  Ravenna,  he  entered  tho  Benedictine 
monastery  of  St  Mary  in  his  native  town,  but  was  almost 
immediately  sent  by  his  superiors  to  Padua  and  to  Rome 
for  a  further  course  of  studies  in  theology.  Ho  then  held 
various  teaching  appointments  in  the  colleges  of  his  order 
at  Parma  and  at  Rome.  He  was  created  an  abbot  of  his 
order  by  Pius  VI.,  who  appointed  him  bishop  of  Tivoli  oii 
the  IGth  December  1782,.  and  on  February  14,  1785, 
raised  him  to  the  cardinalate  and  the  see  of  Imola.  At 
tho  death  of  Pius  VI.  the  conclave  met  at  Venice  on  the 
1st  December  1799,  with  tho  result  that  Chiararaonti  was 
declared  his  successor  on  March  14,  1800,  .and  crowned 
on  the  21st  of  that  month.  In  the  following  July  he 
entered  Rome,  appointed  Cardinal  Consalvi  secretary  of 
state,  and  busied  himself  with  administrative  rofcums. 
Ills,  attention  was  at  once  directed  to  the  ecclesiastical 
marchy  of  France,  where,  apart  from  the  broad  schism 
on  the  question  of  submission  to  the  republican  constilu-, 
tion,  discipline  had  been  so  far  neglected  that  a  largo  pro- 


portion of  the  churches  were  closed,  dioceses  existed  with- 
out  bishops    or   with   more   than    one,   Jansciusm    and 
marriage   had  crept   into   tho   ranks  of  the   clergy,  and 
indifference  or   hostility   widely   prevailed  amoiigst   the 
people.     Encouraged  by  the  Jntiiiiatioa  through  Cardinal 
Martiniana  of  Napoleon's  desire  for  the  re-establi.^hment  of 
the  Catholic  religion  in  France,  Pius  appointed  Cuislli  and 
Archbishop  Spina  to  arrange  a  concordat  v/ith  three  aomi 
nees   of   Napoleon — Joseph  Bonaparte,   Crete*,  and.  the 
Vendean  priest  Bernier.     Difficulties  having  arisen,  the 
aid  of  Consalvi  was  called  in,  and  the  concordat,  signed  at 
Paris   on  July  loth,   was  ratified  by  Pius  oa  the  14tk 
August   1801.     Its   value,  however,  from   the  pontifical 
point  of  view  was  considerably  lessened  by  the  "Articles 
Organiques "  appended  to  it  by  the  French  Government 
on  the  8th  April  1802.      In  1804   Napoleon    opened 
negotiations  to  secure  at  the  pope's  hands  his  formal  con- 
secration as  emperor.     After   some  hesitation   Pius  was 
induced  to  perform  the  ceremony  at  Notre  Dame  and  to 
extend  his  visit  to  Paris  for  four  months.     He  returned  to 
Rome  on  the  16th  May  1805,  with  many  expressions  of 
good  will;  but  in  the  October  following  the  French  troops, 
in  evacuating  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  suddenly  occupied 
Ancona  upon  the  alleged  necessity  of  protecting  the  Holy 
See.     Resistance  by  force  was  out  of  the  question,  but  to 
a  requisition  from  the  emperor  that  all  Sardinians,  English, 
Russians,  and  Swedes  should  be  e.xpelled  from  th&  ponti- 
fical states,  and  that  vessels  of  all  nations  at  war  with 
France  should  be  excluded  from  his  ports,  Pius  r-eplied  by 
asserting  the  independence  and  neutrality  of  his  realm. 
After  negotiations  had  dragged  on  for  two  years,  in  the 
course  of  which  the  French  occupied  the  chief  Adriatic 
ports,    Civita  Vecchia  was  seized  and   the  papal  troops 
placed  tmder  French  officers.     On  tho  2d  February  1808 
Rome  itself  was  occupied  by  General  MioUis;  a  month 
later   the   provinces   of   Ancona,  .Macerata,    Fermo,    and 
Urbino  wore  united  to  the  kingdom  of  Italy,  and  diploma^ 
tic  relations  between  Napoleon  and  Rome  were  broken  off ; 
finally,  by  a  decree  issued  from  Vienna  on  May  17,  1809, 
the 'emperor  declared  the  papal  states  reunited  to  France 
by  resumption  of  the  grant  of  Charlemagne.     Pius  retali- 
ated-by  a  bull,  drawn  up  by  Fontana  and  dated  June  10, 
1809,   excommunicating  tho  invaders;    and,  to   prevent 
insurrection,  Miollis — either  on  his  own  lesponsibilitj',  as 
Napoleon  afterwards  asserted,  or  by  order  of  the  latter — 
employed  General  Radet  to  take  possession  of  the  pope's 
person.     The  palace  on  the   Quirinal   was  broken   open 
during   the   night   of  July  5th,    and,  on  tho  persistent 
refusal  of  Pius  to  renounce  hia  temporal  authority,  he  was 
carried  off,  first  to  Grenoble^  thence  after  an  interval  to 
Savona,  and  in  June  1812.  to  Fontaineblcau.     There  ho 
was  induced,  on  the  25th  January  1813,  >to  sign  a  now 
concordat,  which  was  published  as  an  imperial  decree  on 
the  13th  February.     On  conference  with  tho  cardinals, 
however,   Pius  withdrew  liis  concessions  and  proposed  a 
concordat  upon  a  now  basis.     At  first  no  attention  was 
paid  to  this,  and,  when  after  the  French  armies  wero.driven 
from  Germany  Napoleon  endeavoured  to  purchase  a  new 
concordat  by  offering  to  restore  tho  papal  possessioua  south 
of  tho  Apennines,  Pius  refused  to  treat  with  him  from  any 
place   other   than   llom&     Tho   order  for  his  departure 
thither  reached  him  on  the  V! 2d  jBBuary  1814,  and  after  i> 
brief  delay  at  Cesena  ho  entered  Rome  on  tho  21th  ifay 
1814.     With  his  states  restored  to  him  by  tho  congress  of 
Vienna  and  freed  from  the  Napoleonic  terror,  he  devoted 
the  remainder  of  his  life  to  social  and  ecclesiastic  reform 
in  accordance  with  the  modern  spirit,  suppressing  niany  of 
the  feudal  survivals,  abolishing  torture,  reconstituting  civil 
ahd  judicial  y  roccdure,  and  giving  effect  to  many  beneficial 
changes  intro  luccd  by  the  French.     His  long  and  in  many 


156 


PIUS 


respects  admirable  pontificate  of  more  than  twenty-three 
years'  duration  was  brought  to  a  close  by  an  accident. 
His  thigh  having  been  broken  by  a  fall  in  July  1823, 
acute  inflammation  supervened,  and  he  died  on  the  20th 
August  in  that  year.     His  successor  was  Leo  XH. 

PIUS  VIII.  (Francesco  Xaviero  Castiglioni),  pope,  was 
born  at  Cingoli  near  Ancona  on  November  20,  1761. 
After  having  been  appointed  bishop  o£  Montalto  in  1800, 
cardinal  and  bishop  of  Cesena  in  1816,  and  bishop  of 
Frascati  in  1821,  he  was  in  1829  declared  successor  of 
Leo  XII.  His  unimportant  pontificate  was  of  little  more 
than  sufficient  duration  to  enable  him  to  give  expression 
to  convictions  largely  characterized  by  narrowness  and 
intolerance  in  his  choice  of  Cardinal  Albani  as  head  of 
affairs,  and  in  his  encyclical  letter  against  the  liberty  of 
the  press,  civil  marriage,  and  similar  impious  institutions. 
His  death  took  place  at  Rome  on  the  30th  November 
1830.     He  was  succeeded  by  Gregory  XVI. 

PIUS  IX.  (Giovanni  Maria  Mastai  Ferretti),  pope  from 
1846  to  1878,  was  born  13th  May  1792  at  Sinigaglia,  near 
Ancona,  the  fourth  son  of  Count  Jerome  and  the  Countess 
Catherine  VoUazi  of  the  same  place.  The  family  of 
Mastai  is  of  ancient  descent,  and  its  representatives  have 
frequently  filled  the  office  of  mayor  in  Sinigaglia.  The 
title  of  count  was  first  given  to  its  head  by  Prince  Farnese, 
duke  of  Parma,  towards  the  close  of  the  17th  century. 
Somewhat  later  the  elder  branch,  having  become  allied 
by  marriage  with  the  last  representative  of  the  family  of 
Ferretti,  assumed  its  second  name.  From  the  age  of 
eleven  to  sixteen  Giovanni  received  his  education  at  the 
college  of  Piarists  at  Volterra,  in  Tuscany ;  a  liability  to 
epileptic  fits  precluded,  however,  much  application  to 
study.  On  one  occasion,  when  thus  attacked,  he  fell 
into  a  lake  and  was  only  saved  from  drowning  by  the 
intervention  of  a  herdsman  who  observed  the  occurrence. 
A  handsome  lad,  with  a  certain  charm  of  expression  and 
demeanour  which  characterized  him  throughout  his  life, 
he  frequently  attracted  the  attention  of  visitors  to  the 
college.  On  leaving  Volterra,  he  conceived  an  attachment 
for  a  lady  (afterwards  a  duchess),  and  the  non-requital  of 
his  passion  is  said  to  have  been  a  main  cause  of  his  resolu- 
tion to  enter  the  church.  In  1818  he  was  invited  to  accom- 
pany Monsignor  Odescalchi,  a  prelate  attached  to  the  ponti- 
fical court,  on  a  visitation  tour  in  his  native  province.  On 
returning  to  Rome,  he  was  encouraged  by  Pius  VII.  to 
persevere  in  his  design  of  entering  the  church,  was  admit- 
ted (18th  December  1818)  to  deacon's  orders,  and  cele- 
brated his  first  mass  at  the  church  of  S.  Maria  del 
Falignani  on  Easter  Sunday  1819.  His  benevolent  dis- 
position had  led  him  about  this  time  to  interest  himself  in 
an  orphanage,  familiarly  known  by  the  name  of  "  Tata 
Giovanni,"  and  he  was  now  appointed  by  Pius  to  preside 
over  the  establishment,  and  continued  to  fill  the  post  for 
five  years.  In  1823  he  accompanied  the  apostolic  delegate, 
Monsignor  Muzi,  to  the  republic  of  Chili,  and  remained  at 
Santiago  for  two  years,  actively  engaged  in  missionary 
labours.  In  1825  he  returned  to  Rome,  was  made  a  canon 
of  S.  Maria  in  the  Via  Lata,  and  appointed  to  preside 
over  the  hospice  of  San  Michele, — a  vast  charitable  insti- 
tution for  destitute  children.  Here  he  remained  somewhat 
less  than  two  years,  being  promoted  21st  May  1827,  by 
Leo  XII.,  to  the  archbishopric  of  Spoleto.  His  residence 
in  that  city  was  marked  by  many  acts  of  benevolence,  and 
especially  by  the  foundation  of  a  large  orphanage  where 
poor  children  were  maintained  and  educated  and  also 
taught  some  mechanical  art.  Here,  as  at.  Rome,  his 
genuine  kindliness  and  conciliatory  disposition  made  him 
deservedly  popular,  but  his  defects  were  also  not  less 
apparent.  He  had  allowed  the  hospice  to  become  financi- 
ally embarrassed,    and  after  succeeding  to  the  episcopal 


office  showed  himself  incapable  of  duly  regulating  his  own 
expenditure. 

During  the  insurrectionary  movements  which  followed 
upon  the  election  of  Gregory  XVL  to  the  papal  chair, 
headed  byMenotti  and  the  two  Napoleons —Charles  Loais 
(afterwards  emperor  of  the  French)  and  his  brother — 
Archbishop  Mastai  did  his  best  to  protect  the  insurgents. 
He  disapproved  of  the  reactionary  policy  of  the  new  pope, 
and  strongly  resented  the  oppressive  rule  of  the  Austrians. 
When  Napoleon  (against  whom  sentence  of  death  had  been 
pronounced)  fled  to  Spoleto,  the  archbishop,  to  whom  he 
applied  for  help,  obtained  for  him  the  services  of  an  oflBcer 
who  conducted  him  beyond  the  frontier  to  a  place  of 
safety.  In  the  following  year  (1832)  he  was  translated  to 
the  bishopric  of  Imola,  and  a  few  years  later  was  elected  a 
cardinal,  being  reserved  in  petto  in  the  consistory  of  23d 
December  1839,  and  proclaimed  cardinal  14th  December 
1840.  It  was  not  until  overcome  by  the  persuasion  of 
others  that  Gregory  XVI.  consented  to  bestow  this  dignity 
on  his  future  successor.  He  is  said  to  have  expressed  his 
conviction  that  Mastai's  liberal  tendencies  and  impulsive 
disposition  unfitted  him  for  power,  and  that  if  he  should 
ever  become  pope  he  would  be  the  ruin  of  the  church. 
During  the  tenure  of  his  bishopric  at  Imola,  Mastai  gained 
additional  reputation  by  the  foundation  of  various  philan-i 
thropic  institutions  and  marked  simplicity  of  life. 

On  the  death  of  Gregory  XVL,  he  repaired  to  Eome,\ 
and  on  the  evening  of  16th  June  1846  was  elected  to  the 
papal  chair  as  Pius  IX.,  having  chosen  this  name  out  of 
respect  for  his  predecessor  in  the  see  of  Imola,  Pius  VII. 
His  election,  at  the  final  scrutiny,  proved  to  be'unanimous, 
the  cardinals  Patrizzi  and  De  Angelis  throwing  all  their 
influence  in  his  favour.  On  the  following  morning,  when 
it  was  too  late,  the  Austrian  ambassador  received  instruc- 
tions from  his  Government  to  veto  the  new  pope's  elec- 
tion. 

Pius's  first  act  in  his  new  capacity  was  to  proclaim  a 
general  amnesty  for  political  offences,  whereby  thousands 
of  unhappy  beings  who  had  dragged  out  weary  years  in 
prison  or  in  exile,  ignorant,  many  of  them,  even  of  the 
offences  with  which  they  were  charged,  were  restored  to 
society.  With  genuine  catholicity  of  feeling  he  visited  and 
relieved  even  the  poor  Jewish  population  in  the  city.  He 
authorized  the  construction  of  railways,  organized  a,  civil 
guard,  and  considerably  modified  the  restrictions  on  the 
press.  In  order  to  develop  further  reforms  he  instituted  a 
commission  largely  composed  of  laymen;  and  in  1847  he 
brought  forward  his  scheme  of  a  Coiisulta,  or  council  of 
state,  designed  to  assist  him  in  the  general  temporal 
government.  But,  notwithstanding  these  concessions,  the 
supreme  power  remained  in  the  hands  of  ecclesiastics,  and 
no  measure  passed  by  the  council  could  acquire  validity 
until  it  had  been  examined  and  approved  in  a  conclave  of 
cardinals.  Hence,  although  both  Mazzini  {q.v.)  and 
Garibaldi  were  among  his  avowed  supporters,  the  liberal 
party  were  still  far  from  satisfied.  His  policy  was 
regarded,  on  the  one  hand,  with  extreme  dissatisfaction 
by  Austria,  and  on  the  17th  July  1847  that  power  sent  a 
force  of  1500  men  into  Ferrara,  where  she  was  entitled  by 
the  treaty  of  1815  to  maintain  a  garrison.  To  this  direct 
menace  Pius  replied  by  counter  demonstrations  and  an 
indignant  protest,  but  hostilities  were  ultimately  averted. 
His  policy  was  viewed  with  not  less  dislike  at  the  court  of 
Naples,  but  by  the  rest  of  Italy  and  throughout  Europe 
he  was  at  this  time  regarded  as  the  champion  of  the 
national  rights  of  his  countrymen.  Such  was  the  posture 
of  affairs  when  the  revolution  in  Paris  (February  1848) 
fanned  into  flames  the  already  smouldering  elements  of 
insurrection  throughout  Europe.  The  Austrians'  were 
driven  out  of  Milan  ;  a  republic  was  proclaimed  in  Venice 


PIUS      IX 


157 


(see  Italy,  vol.  xni.  pp.  488-89);  and  a  "free  Italy" 
became  the  general  cry.  At  fir.st  Pius,  who  felt  but 
little  sympathy  with  the  views  r'^presented  by  the  son  of 
Philippe  ligalit(5,  seemed  disposed  to  head  the  movement. 
He  dismissed  his  state-secretary,  Gizzi,  an  irresolute  and 
timorous  politician,  and  appointed  Cardinal  Ferretti  in  his 
place.  On  14th  March  1848  appeared  the  Stat uto  Fonda- 
mentale,  a  more  complete  scheme  for  the  reorganization  of 
the  temporal  government  of  the  papal  states.  By  this  two 
deliberative  assemblies  were  created, — the  first,  the  high 
council,  the  members  of  which  were  to  be  nominated  by 
the  pope  himself  for  life  ;  the  second,  the  council  of  depu- 
ties, to  be  elected  by  the  people,  and  to  be  entrusted  vnth. 
the  chief  voice  in  all  questions  relating  to  taxation.  Over 
both  these  bodies,  hoVever,  the  college  of  cardinals  retained 
the  supreme  authority  ;  without  its  consent  no  measure 
could  acquire  legal  validity.  Liberty  of  the  press  was 
jiromised,  but  the  ecclesiastical  censorship  was  to  be 
retained.  A  new  ministry  was  formed,  which,  with  two 
exceptions  (Antonelli  and  Morichini),'  was  composed  of 
laymen.  But  at  this  juncture  Pius  began  to  waver. 
Although  he  had  hitherto  shown  no  sympathy  with  the 
Jesuits,  he  endeavoured  to  protect  them  against  the 
measures  now  brought  forward  with  a  view  to  their  expul- 
sion, and  when  his  general,  Durando,  crossed  the  Po  with- 
out his  orders,  and  denounced  the  Austrians  as  "  the 
enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ,"  he  disowned,  in  an  allocu- 
tion (29th  April),  all  intention  of  participating  in  an  offen- 
sive war  for  the  purpose  of  rectifying  the  boundaries  of 
Italy,  and  at  the  same  time  disavowed  all  complicity  in 
the  schemes  then  in  agitation  for  creating  an  Italian 
federal  republic,  with  himself  as  the  nominal  head.  This 
apparent  desertion  of  the  national  cause,  at  a  time  when 
the  public  mind  had  been  roused  to  the  highest  pitch  of 
excitement  by  the  course  of  events  at  other  centres,  created 
an  irreparable  breach  between  Pius  and  the  people.  His 
new  chief  minister,  'Mamiani,  who  wished  to  see  him  a 
constitutional  monarch,  advocated  further  concessions — 
the  handing  over  of  the  political  government  to  the  new 
assemblies  and  a  responsible  ministry.  But  after  the 
Austrian  successes  in  the  north  and  Radetsky's  entry  into 
Milan  (5th  August),  Mamiani  was  dismissed,  and  iis  place 
was  filled  by  Count  Rossi,  the  French  ambassador,  a  states- 
man of  signal  ability  and  intrepid  character,  but  of  conser- 
vative views.  On  the  15th  November  1848,  as  Rossi  was 
alighting  at  the  steps  of  the  house  of  assembly,  he  was 
assassinated  in  broad  daylight.  It  wa^  an  ominous 
symptom  of  the  prevailing  temper  of  the  capital  that 
this  atrocious  act  elicited  no  expression  of  disapproval  in 
the  assembly,  and  drew  forth  no  marks  of  sympathy  with 
the  victim's  family.  Two  days  later  a  numerous  mob, 
largely  composed  of  di.sbanded  soldiers,  assembled  in  the 
square  of  the  Quirinal,  and  proffered  fresh  demands,  at 
the  same  time  intimating  their  intention,  if  these  were  not 
conceded,  of  commencing  a  general  massacre  of  the  inmates, 
excepting  only  the  pope  himself.  After  his  secretary, 
Palma,  had  been  shot  by  a  bullet,  Pius,  in  order  to  avert 
further  bloodshed,  made  the  requisite  concessions,  and 
assented  to  the  formation  of  a  new  ministry,  while  he  him- 
self was  made  a  virtual  prisoner.  On  the  24  th  November 
ho  effected  his  escape,  with  the  connivance  of  the  French 
Government,  to  Gaeta,  disguised  as  a  dependant  of  Count 
Spaur,  the  Bavarian  minister.  Thus  terminated  what  has 
boon  described  as  "  tho  first  and  only  attempt  of  a  pope 
to  govern  in  a  liberal  spirit." 

From  Gaeta  ho  published  a  formal  jirotest  against  tho 
violence  to  which  he  had  boon  subjected,  and  whereby  his 
latest  enactments  had  been  extorted  from  him,  at  tho 
same  time  declaring  all  measures  decreed  in  Rome  during 
,his   absence    null   and  .void.     .Gioberti,    tho  .  Sardinian 


minister,  endeavoured  without  success  to  gain  his  concur- 
rence in  a  new  scheme  for  the  formation  of  an  Italian 
federation  of  princes.  In  the  following  February  it  was 
resolved  in  a  consistory  of  cardinals  to  appeal  to  the  chief 
Catholic  powers  (France,  Austria,  Spain,  and  Naples)  for 
their  aid  in  bringing  about  the  re-establishment  of  the' 
temporal  sovereignty.  About  the  same  time  (3d  Februarj' 
1849),  as  if  to  mark  his  undisturbed  sense  of  his  spiritual 
supremacy,  Pius  himself  addressed  an  encyclic  to  the 
superior  Catholic  clergy  throughout  the  world,  enjoining 
that  on  appointed  days  of  the  year  the  doctrine  of  the 
Immaculate  Conception  B.  V.M.  should  be  preached  through- 
out their  dioceses.  The  decisive  defeat  of  the  Sardinian 
forces  at  Novara  by  Radetsky  (23d  March  1849)  encouraged 
the  papal  party  now  to  demand  that  Pius  should  be  rein- 
stated at  Rome  without  any  conditions  being  attached  to 
his  restoration.  This  demand  created  a  divergence  of 
opinion  among  the  above-named  powers ;  eventually 
General  Oudinot  landed  at  Civita  Vecchia  with  10,000 
French  soldiers,  and  De  Tocqueville,  the  French  minister 
for  foreign  affairs,  sought  to  induce  Pius  to  resume  his 
sovereignty  on  the  basis  of  the  Siatuto  Fondamentale. 
This  he  resolutely  refused  to  do,  and  after  the  occupation 
of  Rome  by  Oudinot's  forces  he  was  permitted  to  return 
(12th  April  1850)  unfettered  by  any  condition  whatever. 

Pius  returned  an  altered  man  in  relation  to  his  state 
policy,  in  which,  in  fact,  he  was  from  this  time  guided 
almost  entirely  by  Antonelli.  A  certain  profession  of  a 
design  to  reform  abuses  was  indeed  made,  but  the  former 
ecclesiastical  ascendency  in  the  government  was  re-estab- 
lished, while  the  pope  entered  iato  the  closest  relations 
with  the  Jesuit  party.  Notwithstanding  his  specious  dis- 
claimers of  any  desire  to  take  revenge  for  the  past,  the 
Documenti  Officiali,  published  in  1860,  prove  that  little 
mercy  was  shown  to  those  who  were  suspected  of  disaffec- 
tion. As,  however,  the  continuance  of  the  French  occupa- 
tion reliered  him  from  any  anxiety  with  respect  to  the 
maintenance  of  order,  Pius  was  enabled  to  devote  his 
attention  chiefly  to  the  objects  which  undoubtedly  lay 
nearest  to  his  heart, — the  more  complete  definition  of 
Roman  dogma  and  the  enhancement  of  the  prerogatives 
of  his  office.  In  this  direction  his  views  had  never  been 
characterized  by  any  liberality,  as  is  sufficiently  shown  by 
his  encyclic  of  9th  November  1846,  his  letter  to  the  arch- 
bi.shop  of  Cologne  (3d  July  1847),  and  his  allocution  of  17th 
December  1847,  in  which  all  the  modern  tendencies  to  a 
more  philosophic  interpretation  of  doctrine  are  visited  with 
unqualified  condemnation.  He  now  proceeded  skilfully  to 
avail  himself  of  the  reaction  that  began  to  set  in,  especially 
in  Germany  and  in  England,  after  the  repression  of  the 
revolutionary  movements,  by  taking,  as  the  burden  of 
his  allocutions,  tho  essential  connexion  between  political 
innovation  and  freedom  of  scientific  or  religious  thought. 
The  activity  of  tho  Jesuits  was  studiously  encouraged  ;  the 
"  beatification  "  of  several  eminent  deceased  members  of 
their  order  was  proclaimed  ;  and  lives  of  the  saints,  full  of 
marvellous  and  legendary  incidents,  were  widely  circulated 
among  the  poorer  laity.  A  combination  of  circumstances, 
at  this  period,  largely  contributed  to  tho  success  of  these 
efforts  both  in  Europe  and  in  America.  By  tho  bull 
"  Ineffabilis  Deus  "  (8th  December  1854)  tho  doctrine  of 
the  immaculate  conception  was  formally  "defined,"  qs  a 
dogma  binding  on  the  accc[)tanco  of  all  tho  faithful,  and 
in  pamjihlets  favourable  to  the  assumptions  of  tho  curia 
it  was  pointed  out  that  tho  supremo  pontiff  had  thus 
defined  tho  doctrine  without  rccnursc  to  any  council.  In 
18G2  tho  canonization  of  six  hundred  and  twenty  mission- 
aries, who  hod  met  with  martyrdom  in  Japan  some  Iwp 
centuries  and  a  half  before,  was  made  the  occasion  of  an 
irtiDOsing  ceremonial.     In  a  letter  (1  Ith  December  1 862)  lu 


158 


PIUS      IX 


the  archbishop  of  Munich,  the  teaching  of  Frohschammer,  a 
distinguished  professor  of  philosophy  in  the  university  in 
that  city,  was  singled  out  for  severe  reprobation.  The 
famous  encylio  Quanta  cura,  and  the  Syllabus,  or  list  of 
prevalent  errors  calling  for  especial  reprobation,  appeared 
in  December  1864. 

The  war  between  France  and  Austria  and  the  treaty  of 
Villafranca  (8th  July  1859 ;  see  Italy,  vol.  xiii.  p.  490) 
seemed  at  one  time  Ukely  to  result  in  placing  the  temporal 
power  on  a  basis  somewhat  resembling  that  indicated  in 
Gioberti's  pamphlet  of  1843,  and  the  ultramontane  party 
waited  with  lively  expectation  the  assembling  of  the 
congress.  Among  the  inhabitants  of  the  Eomagna  them- 
selves, however,  discontent  with  the  political  administra- 
tion was  intense.  The  papal  rule  had  become  almost  as 
oppressive  as  that  at  Naples;  and  the  prisons  of  Kome 
were  filled  with  inmates  against  whom  no  more  definite 
charge  could  be  brought  than  that  of  suspected  disaffection 
towards  the  Government.  The  manner  in  which  the 
currency  had  been  tampered  with  was  alone  sufficient  to 
produce  the  gravest  dLscontent,  and  the  lira  papalina-  was 
eventually  accepted  at  the  money-changers'  only  at  a 
heavy  loss  to  the  holder.  'When,  in  the  spring  of  1857, 
Pius  visited  central  Italy,  it  was  observed  that,  while  in 
other  provinces  he  was  greeted  with  enthusiasm  as  the 
pope,  in  his  ovm  dominions  he  was  received  with  auUen 
coldness.  A  pamphlet;  published  at  Paris  in  December 
1859  (ascribed  to  imperial  inspiration),  after  describing 
the  condition  of  the  Eomagna,  openly  raised  the  question 
of  the  continuance  of  the  temporal  power,  and  suggested 
that  it  would  at  least  be  desirable  that  it  should  be 
restricted  to  the  capital  itself.  Pius  replied  in  an  encylic 
issued  on  the  19th  of  the  ensuing  January — a  document 
since  widely  known  as  his  Non  Possumus.  His  obstinacy 
proved  of  no  avail.  The  Eomagna  was  occupied  by 
Sardinia,  and  the  Central-Italian  states  shortly  afterwards 
formed  themselves  into  a  league  to  prevent  its  reoccupa- 
tion  by  the  pontifical  forces.  Antonelli  rejoined  by  raising 
a  motley  force,  composed  of  French,  Belgians,  Bavarians, 
and  Irish,  who  were  placed  under  the  command  of  Lamori- 
ciere,  an  able  French  officer  who  had  seen  active  service  in 
Algiers.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that,  in  making  this 
apparently  hopeless  effort,  the  curia  was  deluded  by  the 
belief  that,  if  matters  proceeded  to  extremities,  France 
would  intervene  in  its  behalf.  After  a  stubborn  resistance 
at  Ancona,  the  superior  forces  of  Sardinia  prevailed,  and 
in  September  1860  the  whole  of  the  States  of  the  Church, 
with  the  exception  of  the  pairimonium,  Fetri(se&  Popedom), 
were  annexed  to  the  kingdom  of  Victor  Emmanuel 

From  the  reduction  of  Ancona  to  the  year  1870  Pius 
was  maintained  in  Eome  only  by  a  French  garrison.  The 
emperor  of  the  French  was  reluctant  to  appear  altogether 
to  desert  the  papal  cause,  while  Cavour  was  unwilling,  in 
like  manner,  to  proceed  to  extremities.  After  the  capture 
of  Garibaldi  at  Aspromonte,  however,  Victor  Emmanuel 
felt  himself  strong  enough  to  put  in  a  formal  claim  for 
Eome ;  and  it  was  eventually  arranged,  by  the  convention  of 
15th  September  1864,  that  the  French  should  withdraw 
from  the  city  before  the  end  of  1866.  This  stipulation  was 
duly  observed,  and  -on  the  11th  December  1866  the  last 
of  the  French  forces  quitted  the  capital.  The  engagement 
was,  however,  virtually  violated  by  the  entry,  in  the 
following  year,  of  the  Antibes  legion,  and  for  some  time 
longer  the  French  soldiery  continued,  to  ward  off  both  the 
daring  assaults  of  Garibaldi  and  the  more  insidious 
approaches  of  Eatazzi.  In  this  manner,  at  the  outbreak 
of  the  war  of  1870,  France  had  come  again  to  be  looked 
,npon  as  the  ally  of  the  papacy;  and  the  overweening 
claims  put  forward  by  Pius  in  convening  a  general  council 
ko  proclaim  the  dogma  of  Papal  Infallibility  were  generally 


interpreted  as  in  a  certain  sense  correlative  with  the 
aggressive  designs  of  France  on  Protestant  Germany.  The 
dogma  was  decreed  in  the  Vatican  on  the  1 8lh  July,  but 
■not  without  strenuous  opposition  on  the  part  of  some  of 
the  most  distinguished  members  of  the  Catholic  episcopal 
order,  who,  at  the  same  time,  were  staunch  supporters  of 
the  temporal  power  (see  Old  Catholics).  At  nearly  the 
same  time  the  occupation  by  the  French  came  definitively  to 
an  end.  Their  forces  were  withdraven  from  Civita  Vecchia 
at  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  when  the  Due  de  Gramont 
announced  that  his  Government  relied  on  the  convention 
of  1864,  whereby  Italy  was  bound  not  to  attack  the  papal 
territory.  That  territory  being  now,  however,  again 
exposed  to  the  dangers  of  revolution,  Victor  Emmanuel, 
on  receiving  the  tidings  of  the  battle  of  Gravelotte,  notified 
to  Pius  that  "  the  responsibility  of  maintaining  order  in 
the  peninsula  and  the  security  of  the  Holy  See "  had 
devolved  upon  himself,  and  that  his  army  must  enter  the 
pontifical  dominions.  This  intimation  was  received  by 
Pius  with  demonstrations  of  the  liveliest  indignation,  but 
the  appearance  of  the  Sardinian  troops  was  hailed  by 
his  own  subjects  with  enthusiasm.  On  arriving  outside 
Eome,  General  Cadorna  summoned  the  garrison  to  sur- 
render, and  after  a  "short  bombardment  the  white  flag  was 
hoisted.  On  the  following  day  (21st  September  1870)  the 
Zouaves,  some  nine  thousand  in  number,  after  receiving, 
as  they  stood  massed  in  the  square  of  St  Peter's,  the 
pontifical  blessing,  inarched  out  of  Eome,  and  the  temporal 
power  of  the  pope  iad  ceased  to  exist. 

For  the  rest  of  his  days  Pius  IX.  remained  tmmolested 
at  the  Vaticau,  while  the  king  resided  at  the  QuirinaL 
The  pontiff  was  virtually  a  prisoner ;  and  his  position, 
although  viewed  with  comparative  indifference  in  Eome, 
was  regarded  with  not  a  little  sympathy  by  the  Catholic 
world  at  large.  The  tribute  of  Peter's  Pence  was  revived 
in  order  to  supply,  in  some  measure,  the  loss  of  his  alien- 
ated-revenues  ;  and  numerous  pilgnmages,  in  which  dis- 
tinguished and  wealthy  individuals  took  part,  were  made 
to  St  Peter's  from  all  parts  of  Catholic  Christendom,  and 
especially  from  England.  His  advanced  years,  fine  pre- 
sence, dignified  demeanour,  and  elasticity  of  spirits 
(tmbroken  by  his  adverse  fortunes)  combined  to  invest 
bott  the  person  and  the  office  of  the  pope  with  a  kind  of 
fascination  for  devout  minds,  which  those  about  him  well 
understood  how  to  turn  to  the  best  advantage.  Occasion- 
ally, however,  his  naturally  impetuous  temper  still  mani- 
fested itself.  The  complicity  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
clergy  with  the  Polish  insurrection  of  J  863  had  been 
punished  by  Eussia  with  excessive  rigour,  apd,  on  receiving 
the  Eussiau  deputies  who  came  to  offer  the  customary 
felicitations  on  New  Year's  J)ay  1866,  Pius  so  far  forgot 
the  proprieties  of  the  occasion  as  to  himself  address  them 
in  terms  of  reproach.  A  suspension  of  diplomatic  relations 
ensued;  and  Eussia  now  eagerly  availed  herself  of  the 
pretext  afforded  by  the  promulgation  of  the  new  dogmas 
to  aim  a  severe  blow  at  Eoman  Catholic  influence  within 
her  dominions,  by  annexing  to  the  Eussian  Church  the 
bishopric  of  Chelm,  with  a  population  of  over  300,000 
souls.  Pius  showed  his  resentment  by  espousing  the  side 
of  Turkey  in  the  struggle  of  that  country  with  the  Eussian 
power.  On  the  3d  June  1877  he  celebrated  the  fiftieth 
anniversary  of  his  consecration  to  the  archbishopric  of 
Spoleto,  and  the  event  was  made  singularly  memorable 
by  the  spectacle  of  numerous  deputations,  bearing  costly 
offerings,  from  all  parts  of  the  world  Pius  died  on  the 
8th  of  the  following  February,  and  was  succeeded  by 
Cardinal  Pecchi  as  Leo  XIII. 

The  life  of  Pius  has  been  written  by  the  late  J.  F.  Maguire 
(2d  ed.,  18781,  and  by  Leopold  Wappmannsperger,  Leben  utuI 
IVirken  des  Papstes  Pius  des  NeunUn  (Ratisbon,  1878).      Both 


P  I  Z  — P  L  A 


159 


•nthoi-s  write  from  the  ultramontane  point  of  view,  but  the  latter 
much  more  ii\  detail,  giving  original  documents  and  information 
respecting  events  subsequent  to  1870  not  to  be  found  in  English 
sources.  Nippold's  Handbuch  dcr  neuesten  Kirchengeschichte,  vol. 
ii.,  supplies  an  outline  of  the  papal  policy  in  connexion  with  other 
contemporaneous  religious  movements;  and  a  concise  but  more 
impartial  sketch  will  be  found  in  Kauke,  Die  rmidschcn  Pdpstc 
(7tn  cd.),  ii.  162-208.  The  literature  connected  with  the  Vatican 
Council  is  given  under  Old  Catholics.  (J.  B.  M.) 

PIZARKO,  FfiANCisco  (c.  1471-1541^,  discoverer  of 
Peru,  and  the  principal  hero  of  its  conquest,  born  at 
Truxillo  in  Estremadura,  Spain,  about  the  year  1471,  was 
an  illegitimate  son  of  Gonzalo  Pizarro,  who  as  colonel  of 
infantry  afterwards  served  in  Italy  under  Gonsalvo  de  Clor- 
dova,  and  in  Navarre,  with  some  distinction.  Of  Pizarro's 
early  years  hardly  anything  is  known  ;  but  he  appears  to 
have  been  only  poorly  cared  for,  and  his  education  was  cer- 
tainly neglected.  Shortly  after  the  news  of  the  discovery 
of  the  New  World  had  reached  Spain  he  was  in  Seville, 
and  thence  found  his  way  across  the  Atlantic ;  there  he  is 
first  heard  of  in  1510  as  having  taken  part  in  an  expedi- 
tion from  Hispaniola  to  Urabd  under  Aloozo  de  Ojeda,  by 
■whom,  in  his  absence,  he  was  entrusted  with  the  charge  of 
the  unfortunate  settlement  at  San  Sebastian.  Afterwards 
he  accompanied  Balboa  to  Darien;  and  under  Balboa's  suc- 
cessor, Pedrarias,  he  received  a  "  repartimento,"  and  be- 
came a  cattle  farmer  at  Panama,  where  in  1522  he  entered 
into  a  partnership  with  a  priest  named  Hernando  de  Luqup 
and  a  soldier  named  Diego  de  AIniagro  for  purposes  of  ex- 
ploration and  conquest  towards  the  south.  An  expedition 
along  the  coast  of  New  Granada  (November  1524)  was 
unfortunate,  but  supplied  various  confirmations  of  rumours 
previously  heard  as  to  the  existence  of  a  great  and  opuleiit 
empire  farther  to  the  south.  On  March  10,  152G,  Pizarro, 
Almagro,  and  Luque  renewed  their  compact,  but  in  a 
mucli  more  solemn  and  explicit  manner,  to  conquer  and 
divide  equally  among  themselves  this  empire  still  undis- 
covered, and  Pizarro  and  Almagro,  with  a  force  of  about 
one  hundred  and  sixty  men,  again  sailed  from  Panama. 
The  force  was  too  small  to  effect  much  at  the  time,  and 
was  at  length  recalled  by  the  governor,  but  Pizarro  was 
not  to  be  shaken,  and,  though  he  was  left  for  months  with 
but  thirteen  followers  on  a  small  island  without  ship  or 
stores,  persisted  in  his  enterprise  till  at  length  ho  had 
coasted  as  far  as  to  about  9°  S.  lat.,  and  obtained  distinct 
accounts  of  the,  Peruvian  empire.  The  governor  still  show- 
ing little  disposition  to  encourage  the  adventurers,  Pizarro 
resolved  to  apply  to  the  sovereign  in  person  for  help,  and 
with  this  object  sailed  from  Panama  for  Spain  in  the 
spring  of  1528,  reaching  Seville  in  early  summer.  After 
long  and  tedious  delays,  the  queen,  in  Cliarlcs's  absence, 
executed  at  Toledo  on  26th  July  1529  the  famous  capilu- 
lacinn  by  which  Pizarro  was  upon  certain  conditions  made 
governor  and  captain-general  of  the  province  of  "  New 
Castile  "  for  the  distance  of  200  leagues  along  the  newly 
discovered  coast,  and  invested  with  all  the  authority  and 
prerogatives  of  a  viceroy.  One  of  the  conditions  of  the 
grant  was  that  within  six  months  ho  should  raise  a  suffi- 
ciently equipped  force  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  men,  of 
whom  one  hundred  might  bo  drawn  from  the  colonies ; 
but  this  he  had  some  difficulty  in  fulfilling.  Sailing  from 
San  Lucar  clandestinely  (for  his  due  complement  was  not 
yet  made  up)  in  January  1530,  Pizarro  was  afterwards 
joined  by  his  brother  Heruati'do  with  the  remaining  ves.sels, 
and  when  the  expedition  left  Panama  in  January  of  the 
following  year  it  numbered  three  ships,  one  hundred  and 
eighty  men,  and  twenty-seven  horses.  A  footing  was 
established  on  tlio  mainland  at  Tumbez,  whence  Pizarro 
set  out  for  the  interior  in  May  1532.  San  Miguel  do 
Piura  was  founded  a  few  weeks  afterwards,  and  Caxamarca 
entered  on  November  15th.     The  subsequent  movements 


of  Pizarro  belong  to  the  history  of  Peru  (see  vol.  xviii.  p. 
677;  and,  for  authorities,  comp.  p.  679). 

PLAGUE  (Xoi/ids,  Pestis,  Pestileniia).  This  name  has 
been  given  to  any  epidemic  disease  causing  a  great 
mortality,  and  in  this  sense  was-  used  by  Galen  and  the 
ancient  medical  writers,  but  is  now  confined  to  a  special 
disease,  otherwise  called  Oriental,  Levantine,  or  Bubonic 
Plague,  which  may  be  shortly  defined  as  a  specific  febrile 
disease,  transmissible  from  the  sick  to  healthy  persons, 
accompanied  usually  by  buboes  and  sometimes  by'  car- 
buncles. This  definition  excludes  many  of  the  celebrated 
pestilences  recorded  in  history, — such  tis  the  plague  of 
Athens,  described  by  Thucydides ;  that  not  less  celebrated 
one  which  occurred  in  the  reign  of  Marcus  Aurelius  and 
spread  over  nearly  the  whole  of  the  Eoman  world  (164- 
180  A.D.),i  which  is  referred  to,  though  not  fully  described, 
by  the  contemporary  pen  of  Galen;  and  that  of  the  3d 
century  (about  253),  the  symptoms  of  which  are  known 
from  the  allusions  of  St  Cyprian  (Sermo  de  Mortalitate). 
There  is  a  certain  resemblance  between  all  these,  but  they 
were  very  different  from  Oriental  plague. 

Symptoms. — There  are  two  chief  forms : — (1)  mild  plague, 
pestis  minor,  larval  plague  (Radcliffe),  peste  fruste,  in 
which  the  special  symptoms  are  accompanied  by  little 
fever  or  general  disturbance  ;  and  (2)  ordinary  epidemic  or 
severe  plague,  pestis  major,  in  which  the  general  disturb- 
ance is  very  severe.  Cases  which  are  rapidly  fatal  from 
the  general  disturbance  without  marked  local  symp- 
toms have  been  distinguished  as  fulminant  plague  (pestis 
siderans,  jieste  foudroyantt). 

1.  In  the  minor  form  of  the  disease  spontaneous 
swellings  of  the  glands  occur,  chiefly  in  groins  and  arm' 
pits,  but  also  in  neck  or  other  parts,  which  either  undergo 
resolution  or  suppurate.  There  is  a  certain  amcJunt  of 
fever ;  the  temperature  is  rarely  high,  but  has  been  knowu 
to  be  104°  Fahr.  The  duration  of  the  disease  is  ten  tc 
twenty  days  usually,  but  may  be  eight  weeks,  for  mosi 
of  which  time  the  general  health  is  little  impaired  and  the 
patient  able  to  go  about  as  usual.  It  rarely,  if  ever, 
causes  death,  the  only  fatal  case  at  Astrakhan  in  1877 
having  been  so  through  a  complication.  The  disease  is 
not  obviously  contagious ;  whether  it  is  propagated  by 
infection  or  not  is  unkaown.  It  is  possibly  rather  of  a 
miasmatic  character.  This  form  of  disease  has  sometLmef 
preceded  or  followed  severe  epidemics,  as  in  Mesopotamia 
(Irak)  on  several  occasions,  1873-78,  and  in  Astrakhan, 
1877 ;  its  importance  in  relation  to  the  origin  of  plague  haf 
only  lately  been  appreciatcd." 

It  might  be  expected  that  gcadations  would  be  found 
connecting  this  form  with  the  severe  epidemic  form  ;  but 
this  appears  to  be  not  usually  the  case,  the  latter  form 
appearing  somewhat  suddenly  and  abruptly.  Heuco  the 
minor  form  has  probably  often  been  regarded  as  a  distinct 
disease,  even  when  observed  in  plague  coimtries. 

2.  AlS  regards  pestis  major,  or  severe  plague,  tho  eyrap 
toms  appear  to  have  been  nearly  tho  same  in  all  grcjif 
epidemics  for  scleral  centuries,  if  not  for  two  thousnnvj 
years,  but  will  be  best  given  from  modern  observations, 
such  as  those  of  Surgeon-Major  Colvill,  Dr  CobiadLs,  and 
others  in  Irak,  and  recent  observers  in  India.  Tho  early 
symptoms  are  sometimes  like  those  of  ague  (shivers,  often 
long  continued,  and  pains  in  the  limbs),  but  combined  with 
nervous  symptoms.  The  patient  becomes  distracted,  tosses 
about  in  constant  fear  of  something  he  cannot  describe, 

'  Amm.  Martell.,  Iiiii.  7 ;  boo  Iloekor,  D»  PttU  AnUmiana, 
Berlin,  18S5. 

'  Payne,  Trans.  Kpuiem.  Snc.  nf  I^ond.,  iv.  S'j2  ;  Tboloian,  /.a 
Peste  en  T\mr>uf,  Paris,  1880;  J.  N.  Raidcliffo,  Report  of  Lotnl 
Oovemment  Board,  187a-80  (Supplement,  pp.  1A,  48),  and  orticle 
"Plague,"  in  Quain'a  Dictionary  ojf  Medicine,  London,  1882. 


IGO 


PLAGUE 


lias  a  difTiculty  in  understanding  the  questions  put  to  liim, 
and  is  slow  in  answering.  He  is  often  described  as 
staggering  like  a  drunken  man.  There  is  severe  head- 
ache, intense  thirst,  and  severe  pain  in  tlie  epigastrium. 
The  eyes  are  red  and  turbid ;  the  tongue  swollen,  dry,  and 
fissured,  sometimes  black,  sometimes  remarkably  white 
(Colvill).  This  condition  may  pass  into  coma  even  before 
fever  sets  in.  In  other  cases  bilious  vomiting  is  the 
earliest  symptom.  The  fever  which  sets  in  may  last 
twenty-four  to  thirty  liours,  or  more.  The  temperature 
maybe  100°  to  107°  Fahr.,  or  even  higher;  but  in  the 
most  rapidly  fatal  cases  there  may  be  little  or  no  fever. 
Generally  there  is  obstinate  constipation,  but  sometimes 
diarrhoea.  Besides  these  symptoms  there  are  certain  special 
ones  especially  characteristic  of  plague. 

(a)  Buboes  or  glandular  swellings  are  observed  in  all 
except  very  rapidly  fatal  cases.  They  occur  in  45  or  50 
per  cent,  of  the  cases  in  the  groin,  in  35  per  cent,  in  the 
a.xilla,  also  less  frequently  in  the  neck  or  other  parts. 
These  swellings  may  occur  before  the  fever,  simultaneously 
with  it,  or  some  hours  after  it  has  set  in.  A  sudden 
pain  like  that  of  a  stab  is  felt  in  some  region  of  the  body, 
which  has  given  rise  to  the  superstition  that  the  unfor- 
tunate victim  was  wounded  by  the  arrow  of  an  invisible 
demon, — a  belief  recorded  in  Constantinople  in  the  6th 
century,  and  said  still  to  survive  in  Mohammedan  couti- 
tries.  The  buboes  may  suppurate,  and  free  discharge  of 
matter  from  them  has  in  all  times  been  held  to  be  a 
favourable  sign  and  conducive  to  recovery. 

(6)  Carbuncles  were  observed  in  about  2i  or  3  per  cent, 
of  the  cases  in  recent  epidemics  in  Irak.  They  are  always 
an  unfavourable  sign. 

(c)  Petechiie  or  hsemorrhagic  spots  on  the  skin  have 
always  been  regarded  as  signs  of  the  worst  omen.  Under 
the  name  of  "  tokens  "  they  were  considered  in  the  English 
epidemics  of  the  16th  century  as  the  infallible  signs  of 
approaching  death.  "  They  appear  generally  only  a  few 
hours  before  death  "  (Colvill).  Hodges  (1665)  noticed  hard- 
ness which  showed  the  existence  of  haemorrhage  under  the 
skin.  The  skin  is  sometimes  so  covered  with  petechia  as  to 
become  of  a  dark  livid  hue  after  death,  recalling  the  name 
Black  Death  (Cabiadis). 

The  occurrence  of  the  above  symptoms,  especially  the 
first,  in  an  idiopathic  fever  attacking  many  persons  at  one 
time  is  sufficient  to  make  the  diagnosis  of  plague. 

A  very  notable  and  fatal  form  of  the  disease  is  that  in 
which  hffiraorrhages  from  the  lungs,  stomach,  bowels, 
nose,  itc,  occur.  These  are  of  the  worst  omen,  and  are 
seen  in  some  cases  where  there  are  no  buboes,  and  which 
are  rapidly  fatal.  This  was  observed  in  Irak  in  recent 
epidemics,  in  the  outbreak  on  the  Volga  in  1878-79,  and  in 
the  plague  of  India,  ft  was  a  noticeable  symptom  in  the 
black  death,  and  was  observed  even  in  the  plague  of  the 
6th  century.  The  bleeding  is  mostly  from  the  lungs,-  and 
is  sometimes  associated  wifh  other  symptoms  of  lung 
affection.  This  form  of  the  disease  appears,  however,  to 
have  no  distinct  historical  or  geographical  limit.  A  similar 
haemorrhaglc  form  has  been  observed  in  small-pox  and 
scarlet  fever,  and  is  always  extremely  fatal. 

In  all  plague  epidemics  cases  occur  in  which  deatn  takes 
place  very  rapidly,  even  within  twenty-four  hours,  without 
the  development  of  the  special  symptoms  of  the  disease. 
Such  cases  are  reported  by  Diemerbroek,  Hodges,  and 
others  in  the  17th  century,  and  have  been  observed  in 
recent  epidemics  in  Irak,  as  well  as  in  the  recent  plague 
on  the  Volga.  Some  are  more  like  cases  of  poisoning  than 
of  infection,  and  much  resemble  the  instances  of  death 
from  the  exhalations  of  dead  bodies  (cadaveric  poisoning) 
which  are  met  with  from  time  to  time.  It  is  these  which 
have  given  rise  to  the  expression  fulminant  plague. 


Duration.  —  The  duration  of  an  attack  of  plague  may  b« 
from  some  hours  to  a  month.  Threc-filths  of  the  cases 
observed  by  Mr  Colvill  were  fatal  on  the  third  day,  and  the 
majority  of  cases  in  India  had  the  same  termination 
(Francis).  Five-sixths  of  fatal  cases  end  by  the  fifth  day. 
Most  of  those  who  survive  the  fifth  day  get  well;  after  the 
seventh  day  a  patient  in  Baghdad  was  considered  by  his 
friends  safe  ;  and  In  Mr  Colvlll's  cases  only  4  per  cent,  of 
fatal  cases  died  after  the  tenth  day.  In  non-fatal  cases 
with  suppurating  buboes  the  disease  may  be  i>rotracted 
to  two  or  three  weeks  or  a  month. 

Mortality. — Plague  is  the  most  fatal  of  all  known 
diseases  which  affect  large  numbers  of  people.  The 
mortality,  according  to  official  registers  in  Baghdad,  was 
557  per  cent,  of  those  attacked.  Lir  Cabiadis  thinks  this 
too  high,  owing  to  many  cases  of  recovery  not  being  re- 
ported. But  in  some  epidemics  the  proportion  of  fatal 
cases  is  much  higher.  In  Vetlanka  it  was  about  90  per 
cent.,  and  in  some  other  villages  on  the  Volga  every  persoi> 
who  took  the  disease  died.  The  older  accounts  do  not 
give  the  proportion  of  deaths  and  attacks. 

Morbid  Anatomy. — Examinations  after  death  have  not 
done  much  to  elucidate  the  nature  of  plague,  except  nega- 
tively. The  appearances  are  those  of  death  from  an  acute 
infective  disease,  and  resemble  those  of  typhus,  except 
for  the  special  affection  of  the  lymphatic  glands.  The 
brain  and  the  lungs  are  found  to  contain  excess  of  blood  ; 
the  right  side  of  the  heart  distended,  the  blood  dark- 
coloured  and  undergoing  rapid  decomposition.^  The  spleen 
is  found  enlarged,  and  in  a  less  degree  the  liver.  The- 
stomach  and  intestinal  canal  often  show  signs  of  inflam- 
mation and  hcemorrhage,  sometimes  ulceration.  The 
characteristic  swelling  of  the  lymphatic  glands,  both  ex- 
ternal and  internal,  is  often  accompanied  by  inflammation 
of  the  cellular  tissue  around.  Petechial  patches  are  some- 
times found  on  the  internal  organs.^ 

Pathology  of  Plague. — All  that  is  known  of  plague  goes 
to  show  that  it  is  a  specific  febrile  disease  depending  on 
the  reception  into  the  body  of  a  specific  organic  contagion, 
which  becomes  multiplied  in  the  body  of  the  patient. 
Analogy  makes  it  very  probable  that  this  contagion  is  a 
living  organism  of  the  class  Bacteria,  but  the  suspected 
organism  has  not  yet  been  discovered.  The  nearest  ally 
of  plague  is  typhus  fever,  so  that  some  authorities  have 
spoken  of  it  as  the  typhus  of  hot  climates,  modified  by 
temperature,  ic,  but  this  opinion  does  not  appear  to  have 
ever  been  held  by  any  competent  physician  who  has 
examined  the  disease  at  first  hand.  It  appears  to  be  as 
distinct  from  typhus  as  this  is  from  enteric  fever,  or  other 
so-called  typhoid  diseases.  It  has  also  been  thought  that 
plague  is  related  to  intermittent  or  remittent  malarious 
fevers ;  but  the  most  recent  observations  show  that  there 
is  no  real  connexion  between  these  diseases.  In  India, 
says  Dr  Francis,  neither  intermission  nor  remission  has 
ever  been  observed  in  plague.  It  is  quite  distinct  from 
and  in  no  way  modified  by  the  types  of  fever  that  are 
caused  by  malaria.  Dr  Cabiadis  speaks  to  the  same  effect 
of  plague  in  Irak,  and  insists  that  the  physical  conditions 
which  favour  the  production  of  marsh  poison  are  not 
necessarily  favourable  to  plague. 

External  Conditions  of  Plague. — The  nature  of  the  soil 

This  post-mortem  decomposition  of  the  blood  is  doubtless  the 
cause  of  some  appearances  described  with  ^reat'  pni-ticularity  in  the 
older  accounts. 

'  Our  knowledge  of  the  morbid  anatomy  of  plague  is  derived  almost 
entirely  from  the  observation  of  the  Frencli  physicians  in  Egypt  during 
the  epidemic  in  1835-36.  Earlier  observations  are  of  no  value,  and  in 
later  epidemics  of  Irak  and  Russia  none  have  been  made.  In  Ind;» 
Drs  Pearson  and  Francis  made  a  few  autopsies.  Clot-Bey,  De  '' 
Pesle  en  igtjpte,  Paris,  1840  ;  Bulard,  De  la  Peste  Orientate,  Pari'-. 
1839;  Francis,  Indian  Annals  of  Medical  Science,  vol.  i.,  1854. 


PLAGUE 


161 


bas  little  influence  on  plague.  It  may  flourish  in  alluvial 
deltas,  on  calcareous  ridges  or  granitic  mountains.  ^Moisture 
in  the  soil  has  generally  been  thought  to  be  an  important 
factor  in  its  production,  but,  though  often  found  in  marsh 
situations,  such  as  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  the  Euphrates, 
or  even  the  Volga,  it  also  occurs  in  India  at  elevations 
approaching  7000  feet,  and  in  Kurdistan  at  5000  to  6000 
feet  above  the  sea. 

The  temperature  most  favourable  to  plague  is  a  moder- 
ately high  one.  The  disease  is  unknown  in  the  tropics. 
When  prevalent  in  Egypt  it  was  said  never  to  penetrate 
farther  south  than  Assouan.  It  has  not  crossed  the  plains 
of  India  within  historic  times.  Where  the  disease  does 
occur,  a  temperature  of  80°  to  85°  or  more,  combined 
with  absence  of  moisture,  usually  stops  the  epidemic.  In 
Egypt  it  was  observed  to  cease  as  an  epidemic  almost 
suddenly  about  the  22d  to  24th  of  June,  and  not  to  begin 
again  till  September.  In  Irak  it  dies  out  suddenly  during 
the  summer.  When  the  temperature  rises  above  86°  it 
begins  to  diminish;  and  it  ceases  abruptly  at  a  temperature 
of  113°.  In  India  it  has  been  observed  by  Dr  Francis 
when  the  temperature  of  his  tent  was  83°  to  95°,  or  in  a 
grass  hut  to  105°,  while  the  air  was  moist ;  but  he  thinks 
a  lower  temperature  with  dryness  renders  the  poison  inert. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  northern  countries,  the  disease  is 
usually  checked  by  the  cold  of  winter,  starts  up  in  the 
spring,  and  is  most  active  in  August  and  September.  To 
this  rule  there  have  been  some  remarkable  exceptions, 
such  as  the  epidemic  on  the  Volga  in  1878-79,  which 
raged  during  severe  winter  weather,  and  the  great  plague 
of  Moscow  in  1770. 

Sanitary  Conditions. — Of  al!  the  co-operating  causes  of 
the  plague,  undeanlinem  is  the  most  powerful, — meaning 
Ijy  this  the  accumulation  of  decaying  animal  matter  around 
human  bodies  or  dwellings.  The  saturation  of  the  soil 
with  filth  is  perhaps  the  most  important  point.  A  plague 
seat  in  Mesopotamia  is  thus  described  by  Colvill : — "  The 
ground  is  so  saturated  with  moisture  that  the  refuse  of  the 
village  is  neither  absorbed  nor  evaporated,  but  .  .  . 
acquires  the  form  of  a  bluish-black  oily  fluid,  which  sur- 
rounds the  huts  and  covers  the  paths,  and  stains  the  walls 
2  feet  from  the  ground ;  and,  in  fact  the  village  is  in  such 
a  state  of  filth  that  it  requires  to  be  seen  to  be  believed." 
Of  the  people  among  whom  the  Pali  plague  of  India 
raged  it  is  said  "  they  were  filthy  beyond  conception  " 
(Francis).  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  European  cities  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  down  to  the  17th  century,  presented 
very  similar  conditions.  These  conditions  may  be  con- 
sidered to  act  by  supjilying  a  suitable  environment  for  the 
life  and  growth  of  the  organized  poison  (or  bacterium) 
outside  the  human  body.  Where  these  are  wanting  one 
of  the  main  factors  in  the  spread  and  permanence  of  the 
disease  will  be  absent,  a  fact  which  makes  it  probable  that 
increased  cleanliness  is  the  chief  cause  of  the  disappearance 
of  plague  from  Europe. 

Overcrowded  dwellings,  especially  with  deficient  ventila- 
tion, greatly  favour  the  spread  of  the  disease  ;  but  this  is 
not  necessarily  correlative  with  density  of  population,  and 
plague  may  flourish  in  thinly-peopled  countries. 

Of  social  conditions  poverty  has  by  far  the  most  power- 
ful influence  on  the  spread  and  development  of  plague. 
Many  plague  epidemics  have  fol  jwed  on  years  of  famine, 
or  been  connected  with  destru..tion  of  crops  and  cattle. 
The  races  among  which  the  disease  is  endemic  are  almost 
without  exception  under-nourished,  if  not  destitute.  In 
the  villages  on  the  Volga  there  api>eared  to  the  writer,  in 
1879,  to  bo  little  destitution,  though  the  diet  of  tJie  people 
was  very  meagre.  In  all  city  epidemics  the  poor  are  the 
chief  or  almost  the  only  sufferers.  This  is  as  true  of 
Baghdad  in  the  19th  century  as  it  was  of  London  in  the 


17th.  Those  of  the  upper  classes  who  have  been  attacked 
have  been  chiefly  doctors,  clergy,  officials,  and  others 
whose  occupations  take  them  among  the  sick. 

Origin  and  Spread  of  Plague. — Although  the  above- 
mentioned  conditions  are  those  in  which  plague  originates, 
and  may  be  considered  in  a  general  way  essential  to  its 
continued  existence,  it  is  plain  that  they  do  not  account 
for  its  origin.  .  Poverty,  overcrowding,  filth,  and  marsh 
soil,  with  a  temperature  suited  to  plague,  occur  in  many 
parts  of  the  world  where  this  disease  has  never  been  heard 
of  or  has  ceased  to  exist.  The  geographical  distribution 
of  diseases  cannot,  any  more  than  the  distribution  of 
plants  or  animals,  be  explained  by  climatic  causes  alone. 
With  regard  to  plague  it  is  quite  clear  that  there  are  some 
parts  of  the  world  where  it  is  at  home,  or,  as  the  phrase  is, 
"  endemic. "  In  other  parts  it  is  probable  (or,  as  some  think, 
certain)  that  its  existence,  and  even  its  periodical  recur- 
rence, depend  on  importation  from  an  endemic  centre. 
Although  it  is  not  always  easy  to  distinguish  between 
these  cases,  they  must  be  considered  separately. 

In  the  case  of  an  endemic  disease  we  suppose  that  the 
poison  is  either  kept  in  existence  by  continued  transmission 
from  one  case  to  another,  or  that  it  can  subsist  outside  the 
human  body  in  soil,  water,  or  otherwise.  The  first  mode 
of  existence  is  that  of  a  pure  contagious  disease,  such  as 
small-pox ;  and  it  is  plain  that  this  mode  of  continued 
existence  obtains  in  the  case  of  plague  also.  It  is  not, 
however,  clear  that  the  second  may  not  also  be  one  of  the 
modes  of  existence  of  plague,  which  would  then  be  a  so- 
called  "miasmatic"  disease  like  ague,  as  well  as  a  conta- 
gious one.  In  India,  for  instance,  the  disease  appears  as  if 
it  depended  on  a  poison  in  the  soil,  since  it  returns  years 
after  to  the  same  spot,  appearing  in  many  villages  simul- 
taneously ;  and  some  morbid  influence  causes  the  death  of 
animals  (rats)  which  live  under  ground.  Similar  facts 
have  been  observed  in  China;  and,  if  further  inquiry 
should  confirm  the  hypothesis,  it  would  show  that  plague 
is  (like  anthrax  or  the  "  steppe  murrain  "  of  cattle)  both 
miasmatic  and  contagious.  If  so,  there  is  no  difliculty  in 
supposing  the  disease  to  be  carried  by  contagion  to  a 
distant  part,  and  there  to  be  established  in  the  soil,  for  a 
longer  or  shorter  period,  as  the  conditions  are  more  or  less 
favourable.  The  adoption  of  this  hypothesis  would  remove 
many  of  the  difficulties  attending  the  explanation  of 
plague  epidemics,  and  to  some  extent  reconcile  the  contro- 
versies of  the  last  three  centuries  between  the  "  contagi- 
onist "  and  "  non-contagionist "  scht)ols.  It  has  been 
maintained  by  the  former  that  European  epidemics  have 
always  been  caused  by  the  importation  of  the  disease  from 
its  homo  in  the  East,  by  the  latter  that  it  arose  on 
European  soil  in  the  same  way  as  in  Egypt  or  Syria. 

In  the  case  of  an  imported  non-endemic  disease,  the 
only  question  which  arises  is  how  tho  importation  is 
effected, — whether  the  disease  ....y  be  brought  by  the  air 
alone,  whether  by  infected  persons  only,  or  whether  also 
by  objects  which  have  been  in  close  relation  to  infected 
persons.  Transmission  of  the  disease  by  tho  air  cannot 
bo  pronounced  impossible ;  and  there  are  facts  to  show 
that  it  is  even  probable  with  distances  measured  by  yords, 
or  possibly  even  hundreds  of  yards ;  but  there  is  no  evidence 
whatever  that  the  di.scaso  has  ever  been  carried  by  tho  air 
over  distances  measured  by  milea.  Transmission  of  tho 
disease  by  infected  persons  over  longer  or  shorter  distances, 
and  from  one  country  to  another,  is  an  established  fact. 
Transmission  by  infected  objects  over  great  distances  and 
from  one  country  to  onother  seems  less  cliarly  established. 
Tho  last  two  ca.scs  must  bo  separately  considered. 

1.  It  is  clear  that  tho  first  necessary  condition  to  such 
transmission  is  contagion,  or  transference  (jf  the- disease 
from  tho  sick  to  the  healthy.     The  existence  of  contagion 


1 02 


PLAGUE 


is  shown  by  such  facts  as  these  : — when  a  case  of  plague 
breaks  out  in  a  house  the  other  inmates  are  extremely 
likely  to  take  the  disease ;  and  cveB  in  severe  forms  the 
plague  does  not  cease  till  it  has  afiected  all  or  nearly  all 
the°hous6hold.  This  is  indisputably  an  almost  universal 
law.  In  the  plague  of  Lond^;:  in  1603  it  was  said  the 
disease  entered  hardly  any  house  but  it  seized  all  that 
lived  in  it.  And  in  1879,  on  the  Volga,  in  one  village, 
as  was  ascertained  by'  Mr  Colvill  and  the  present  writer, 
the  plague  attacked  £ve  houses  containing  thirty-three 
persons,  all  of  whom  except  two  took  the  disease  and  died. 
In  this  respect  plague  resembles  typhus.  In  the  next 
place  the  disease  will  spread  from  an  infected  house  to 
persons  who  have  close  relations  with  it.  Thus  in  the 
villages  on  the  Volga  it  was  noticed  that  after  one  family 
was  affected  cousins  and  relations  by  marriage  were  the 
next  to  be  attacked.  Doctors  and  those  visiting  the  house 
are  also  exposed  to  the  risk,  though  in  a  less  degree.  In 
Vetlanka  on  the'  Volga  three  physicians  and  six  surgical 
assistants  died.  On  the  ether  hand,  doctors  in  some 
instances  have  singularly  escaped  from  being  attacked 
by  the  disease.  In  Egypt,  in  1835,  out  of  ten  French 
physicians  engaged  one  only  died,  nor  was  this  immunity 
secured  by  any  precautions.  These  experiences'do  not  prove 
that  the  disease  is  not  contagious,  but  they  modify  the  ex- 
aaserated  notions  which  have  been  held  on  the  subject. 
The  facts  appear  to  be  expressed  by  saying  that^  it  may 
undoubtedly  be  communicated  from  one  person  to  another, 
but  chiefly  by  breathing  the  air  of  the  sick  room,  and  thia 
generally  from  prolonged  not  from  momentary  exposure, — 
so  that  the  possibility  of  communication  by  chance  meet- 
ings and  similar  contingencies  may  be  disregarded.  This 
view  is  that  of  Dr  Cabiadis  and  others  who  have  studied 
plague  in  Irak  where  no  doctor  or  assistant,  with  one 
exception,  suffered  from  the  disease.  It  is  not  inconsist- 
ent with  the  experience  recorded  in  Egypt.  But  it. is 
clear  that  the  intensity  of .  contagion  varies  greatly  in 
different  epidemics.  Modern  experience  contradicts  the 
belief  formerly  entertained  that  contact  with  plague 
patients  was  the  only  or  even  the  chief  means  of  acquiring 
the  disease.  Everything  tends  to  show  that  the  atmo- 
sphere immediately  surrounding  the  patient  is  the  most 
effectual  conveyer  of  contagion,  and'  more  effectual  in  pro- 
portion as  the  poison  is  concentrated.  Precisely  the  same 
relations  are  observed  with  regard  to  typhus. 

It  has  been  disputed  whether  dead  bodies  convey  infec- 
tion of  plague.  Formerly  the  contagion  from  this  source 
was  greatly  dreaded,  and  the  task  of  burying  thought  to, 
be  specially  dangerous.  But  the  French  in  Egypt  made 
more  than  a  hundred  post-mortem  examinations  without 
precautions  and  without  harm.  In  Mesopotamia  and  in 
Russia  no  autopsies  were  made,  but  in  the  latter  country 
some  striking  instances  were  noted  of  those  engaged  in 
burying  the  dead  themsv.vos  dying  of  the  plague.-  On  the 
whole  both  facts  and  analogy  lead  to  the  belief  that  the 
disease  maybe  derived  from  touching  or  being  near  a  dead 
body,  but  not  that  there  is  any  special  danger  of  infection 
from  this  source. 

2.  It  is  a  very  momentous '  question  whether  the  con- 
tagion is  capable  of  being  conveyed  by  clothes  and  other 
objects  which  hav«  been  in  contact  with  the  sick.  The 
very  general  belief  that  this  is  so  has  been  controverted 
only  by  the  French  physicians  in  Egypt,  one  of  whom, 
Bulard,  himseK  wore  a  shirt,  taken 'direct  from  the  body 
of  a  plague  -paliient,  for  two  days.  They  also  state  that 
in  Egypt  it  was  ctBtomary,- when  a  plague  epidemic  was 
over,  to  sell  the  clothes  and  effects  of  those  who  had  died 
of  plague,  without,  as  is  affirmed,  communicating  the  dis- 
ease. In  Constantinople  they  were  customarily  sold  at 
once  ;  and  it  is  alleged  that  the  dsalers  in  old  clothp-s  did 


not  specially  suffer.  In  1835  the  hospital  at  Cairo, 'Whera 
3000  plague  patients  had  been  treated,  was  used,  without 
even  changing  the  bed  coverings,  immediately  after  the 
epidemic  for  other  patients,  without  harm.  Negative 
instances  of  this  kind  might  be  multiplied,  but  their  im- 
portance is  .  diminished  by  the  consideration  that  the 
communicability  of  plague,  by  whatever  means,  is  always 
found  to  become  spontaneously  weak  at  the  decline  of 
the  epidemic,  till  it  is  extinct  altogether.  While  the 
epidemic  influence  la-sts  there  is  abundant  evidence  that 
infected  clothes,  &c.,  are  among  the  means  by  which  the 
disease -spreads.  In  Egypt,  in  1835,  two  criminals  con- 
demned to  death  were  for  the  sake  of  experiment  placed 
in  the  clothes  and  beds  of  those  who  had  died  of  plague, 
and  both  took  the  disease,  one  dying.  Instances  are  given 
by  White  {Treatise  on  the  Plagtte,  p.  161,  London,  1847) 
of  the  disease  spreading  "  like  wildfire "  through  the  dis- 
tribution of  infected  garments,  and  of  those  engaged  in 
disinfecting  clothes  and  other  objects  being  suddenly  seized 
with  the  complaint,  e.g.,  on  opening  a  box  containing 
infected  garments.  While  the  reality  of  this  mode  of  com- 
munication cannot  reasonably  be  doubted,  it  admits  of 
some  question  whether  the  plague  has  ever  been  thus  con- 
veyed over  great  distances,  or  from  one  country  to  another. 
The  best  known  instance  ia  England  is  the  alleged. trans- 
mission of  plague  from  London  to  the  village  of  Eyam  in 
Derbyshire  in  1665  by  an  infected  parcel  of  clothes, — a 
story  which  cannot  be  criticized  at  this  distance  of  time, 
but  which  presents  some  weak  points.^  Dr  Cabiadis  states 
that  he  has  seen  plague  thus  conveyed  in  Irak  to  places 
outside  the  existing  focus  of  infection,  but  gives  no  details. 
On  the  whole  we  must  consider  the  exportation  of  plague 
by  clothes  over  great  distances,  and  into  countries  not 
subject  to  the  same  epidemic  conditions  *s  the  infected 
country,  "  not  proven." 

The  communication  of  "plague  by  merchandise  or  objects 
not  personal,  conung  from  an  infected  country,  rests  upon 
still  more  defective  evidence,  though  at  one  tine  generally 
believed.  In  virtue  of  this  belief  all  goods,  especially 
those  regarded  as  susceptible  (as  wool,  furs,  raw  cotton, 
&c.),  were,  when  coming  from  an  infected  or  suspected 
country,  subjected  to  disinfection  under  special  regula- 
tions. But  there  is  really  no  evidence  that  plague  was 
ever  thus  transmitted  or  that  these  regulations  kept  it 
out.  On  the  contrary  there  are  numberless  instances  of 
this  supposed  cause  having  failed  to  operate  when  it  might 
have  been  most  expected  to  do  so. 

During  the  plague  at  Alexandria  in  1835,  which 
destroyed  9000  persons  in  that  city,  the  exportation  of 
cotton  from  the  Government  warehouses  was  never  inter- 
rupted, though  the  plague  was  most  destructive  in  those 
very  buildings.  It  was  loaded  on  English  and  other  ships 
without  any  precautions  whatever.  Twenty-five  ships, 
eight  of  which  were  infected  with  plague,  conveyed  cotton 
amounting  to  31,000  bales  to  England.  Nevertheless  no 
case  of  plague  is  known  to  have  occurred  among  the 
quarantine  officers  or  others  engaged  in  unloading  these 
ships  or  disinfecting  their  cargoes  in  quarantine.  Equally 
large  quantities  were  exported  to  MarseiUes  and  Trieste, 
and  smaller  quantities  to  other  ports,  with  the  same  result. 
Further,  no  case  of  infection  has  occurred  among  quaran- 
tine officers  or  persons  e:  iployed  to  disinfect  goods,  from 
this  cause  alone,  either  at  Marseilles  since  1720,  or  at  any 
European  lazaretto.^  The  conclusion  is  that  the  fear  of 
importation  of  plague  by  merchandise  coming  from  an 
infected  country  rests  on  no  solid  foundation. 

By  whatever  means,  there  is  no  doubt  that  plague  is 

'  See  W.  Wood,  Bistory  of  Eyam,  London,  1848. 
2  Laidlaw,  quoted  in  Pru3,  Rapport,  p.  479. 


PLAGUE 


1G3 


difTuseJ  or  "spreads"  from  one  place  to  another,  and  that 
its  spread  is  connected  mediately  or  immediately,  in  most 
cases  at  least,  with  human  intcrcotirse.  But  this  diffusion 
appears  to  take  place  as  a  rule  slowly,  and  to  be  effected  by 
the  formation  of  new  foci  of  contaminated  atmosphere. 
Such  foci  on  land  will  bo  inhabited  houses,  and  the  disease 
■will  creep  in  a  gradual  though  irregular  manner  from  house 
to  house  and  street  to  street.  It  was  so  in  London  in 
1665  ;  and  in  llussia"in  1878,  as  has  been  said,  the  disease 
-was  confined  to  one  village  for  two  months,  though  for 
great  part  of  the  time  communication  was  perfectly  open. 
In  1834  piaguc  existed  eight  months  at  Alexandria  before 
passing  to  Daniietta  and  Mansoorah,  though  traffic  was 
quite  uninterrupted.  These  new  foci  of  disease  are  doubt- 
less mostly  produced  by  persons  infected  with  the  disease, 
actually  or  ip  incubation,  who  form  a  contaminated  atmo- 
sphere around  thew  in  a  place  previously  healthy. 

Trq.nsmission  of  the  disease  by  sea  may  take  place  in  the 
same  manner, — a  ship  forming  a  focus  of  disease  as  easily 
as  a  house,,  and  being  obviously  specially  liable  to  concen- 
trate the  poison.  It  is  by  a  floating  atmosphere  of  plague, 
and  not  by  casual  contaminated  objects,  that  the  disease 
has  been  conveyed,  when  it  has  been,  from  one  port  to  ; 
another  of  the  Mediterranean.  The  reality  of  the  mode  of 
transmission  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  between  1720  and 
1846  twenty-five  ships  arrived  at  French  and  Italian  ports 
with  the  plague  among  their  crews ;  and  in  the  case  of 
those  arriving  at  Marseilles  (ten  in  number),  which  were 
carefully  observed,  there  were  several  instances  of  plague 
being  communicated  in  the  lazaretto  to  surgeons  and 
others,  or  to  those  placed  in  charge  of  the  ships.  Of 
these  persons  several  died, — without,  however,  any  exten- 
sion of  the  disease  to  the  town.  From  this  it  is  clear  that 
jilague  may  be  transmitted  by  ships,  and  may  sj)read  at 
the  point  to  which  it  is  conveyed,  if  the  surrounding  cir- 
cumstances are  favourable.  ,  In  all  these  cases  the  ships 
iad  left  the  infected  ports  at  a  time  when  an  epidemic  of 
plague,  and  not  merely  sporadic  cases,  prevailed  there. 
No  similar  facts  are  on  record  as  to  the  importation  of 
3)lague  by  ships  to  England,- — the  probable  cause  of  this 
■difference  being  the  greater  length  of  the  voyage  from  the 
Levantine  ports,  and  the  precautions  taken  at  those  ports 
to  preventthe  shipment  of  infected  persons  orgoods.  Plague 
lias  never  been  brought  to  an  English  quarantine  station.' 

In  such  cases  it  must  remain  undetermined  whether  the 
<li8ease  would  have  spread,  had  it  not  been  interrupted  by 
tbe  quarantine.  As  we  have  seen,  plague  will  often  die 
out  in  the  cswes  which  convey  it  without  spreading ;  and 
lience  some  have  supposed  (with  .Sydenham)  that  an 
*'  epidemic  constitution "  is  necessary  at  any  particular 
time  and  place  in  order  that  the  disease  should  become 
general,  but  the  practical  value  of  this  law  is  diminished 
i>y  the  fact  that  there  is  no  means  of  recognizing  the 
epidemic  constitution  except  by  the  actual  production  of 
an  epidemic 

Plague,  like  all  similar  diseases,  and  in  a  specially  high 
degree,  is  subject  to  the  law  of  periodicity.  Even  when  it 
Js  most  strictly  endemic  it  seldoms  prevails  continuously, 
bnt  appears  in  definfte  outbreaks,  or  epidemics,  with  intcr- 
■vals  in  which  there  are  either  no  cases  of  plague  or  only 
«o-callod  sporadic  cases.  This  may  be  partly  due  to  the 
general  law  that  the  susceptibility  of  the  population  ic  ?. 
special  disease  is  exhausted  by  an  epidemic,  partly  to  the 
immensely  increased  transmiasibility  of  the  disease  caused 
by  the  increased  number  of  cases,  so  that  when  once  a 
certain  stage  of  severity  has  been  reached  the  disease  pro- 
gresses in  a  far  more  rapid  ratio.  In  most  epidemics  of 
|)lague  there  is  at  one  time  a  sudden  and  alarming  increase 

'  Prus,  Rapport  sur  la  Pestr,  Pari.i,  1846,  p.  133  ;  Report  of  Com- 
•aillcc  of  Uouso  of  Coiumona,  1810,  p.  101. 


in  mortality ;  but,  by  a  law  not  yet  understood,  each 
epidemic  is  liable  to  a  spontaneous  .decline,  which  is  some 
times  sudden.  This  may  be  connected  with  rise  or  fall  in 
the  temperature  of  the  air,  but  is  not  always  so.  The 
disease  may  be  dormant  during  the  cold  or  hot  weather 
(as  the  case  may  be)  and  reappear  when  the  temperature 
is  favourable  again,  but  not  necessarily.  It  is  generally 
agreed  that  plague  is  transmissible  to  another  country 
only  when  it  is  epidemic,  and  not  from  sporadic  cases. 

Incubation. — It  is  a  very  important  question  what  time 
may  elapse  between  a  person  receiving  the  poison  and 
showing  symptoms  of  the  disease.  The  usual  time  of 
incubation  ajipears  to  be  from  three  to  five  days.  In 
certain  very  malignant  epidemics  this  period  may  be 
shortened,  and,  it  is  thought,  reduced  to  even  less  than  a 
day.  In  rare  cases  incubation  may  be  prolonged  to  eight 
days.  There  are  doubtful  accounts  of  ten  days'  incubation. 
Generally  a  week's  observation  ^  would  show  whether  a 
suspected  person  was  really  affected  or  no.  It  has  been 
thought  that  articles  contaminated  by  contact  with  plague 
patients  may  retain  the  power  of  communicating  the  disease 
for  weeks,  months,  or  even  years ;  but  of  this  there  is  no 
adequate  proof. 

Treatment. — No  special  line  of  treatment  has  proved 
efficacious  in  checking  the  disease  once  established. 
Special  symptoms  are  -treated  in  accordance  with  the 
ordinary  rules  of  practice,  and  need  not  here  bo  con- 
sidered; Free  ventilation  appears  to  be  of  the  greatest 
service  in  preventing  the  spread  of  the  disease,  and  pro- 
bably in  promoting  recovery. 

Freventinn. — ^There  can  be  no  doubt  whatever  of  the 
efficacy  of  hygienic  measures  in  rendering  a  lecality 
unsuitable  for  the  spread  of  plague.  Such  measures 
include,  not  only  personal  cleanliness,  but  especially  the 
removal  of  all  foul  organic  matters,  good  drainage,  and 
))revention  of  overcrowding ;  all  such  measures  might  be 
looked  upon  by  our  readers  generally  as  matters  of  course, 
but  are  quite  unknown  in  most  of  the  homes  of  plagus. 
Since  there  is  no  doubt  that  plague  may  be  carried  frcm 
places  where  it  prevails  epidemically,  measures  to  prevent 
such  importation  cannot  be  neglected.  The  best  known  of 
such  measures  is  the  system  of  quarantine  first  produced 
about  1480.  See  Quarantine.  The  efficiency  of  quaran- 
tine has  been  much  discussed,  and  very  strong  opinions 
have  been  expressed  for  and  against  it.  The  subject  is  too 
large  for  discussion  here  ;  but  it  would  appear  tl;at,  while 
the  system  a-s  originally  applied  in  the  Jlediterranean, 
when  traffic  was  compaiatively  slow  and  infrequent,  aud 
when  European  cities  presented  an  extremely  Jfavourable 
soil  for  plague  if  introduced,  was  a  real  protection,  the 
regulations  have  long  ceased  to  correspond  to  the  actual 
state  of  medical  knowledge ;  and,  in  addition,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  apply  them  to  our  crowded  traffic.  The 
alternative  is  a  system  of  medical  in-spection  of  all  arrivals 
in  our  ports,  and  strict  isolation  of  ships  in  which  plngue 
has  occurred  or  is  suspected.  Such  a  ship  should  then  bb 
treated  as  an  infected  house. 

['reixulion  of  the  .Sj/ivad  of  Plague. — When  cases  ot 
plaj;ue  have  once  occurred  in  a  town  or  on  board  a  ship  in 
port,  the  house  or  shij)  should  be  emptied  of  its  inhabit 
ants,  the  sick  removed  to  a  hospital,  the  sound  placed 
in  an  isolated  building  and  subjected  to  ob»cr\'ation  for  at 
least  a  week,  or,  better,  ten  days.  The  clothes  of  sick 
per.sons  ha<U  better  bo  burnt,  their  bedding  and  furniture 
completely  di.sinfected.  The  house  should  in  the  mean 
time  be  rigidly  closed  until  it  has  been  disinfected.  If 
these  measures  are  taken  in  time,  there  can  bo  no  objection 
to  allowing  free  emigration  of  the  population.  •■  Isolation 
of  the  ploce  by  a  "  sanitary  cordon  "  would  only  bo  possible 

•  Prus.  Itapporl,  J.  IBfl, 


164 


PLAGUE 


in  very  exceptional  positions,  and  as  a  rule  would  aggravate, 
by  overcrowding,  the  intensity  of  the  disease  within. 

History  of  the  Plague.  — The  first  historical  notice  of  the  plague 
is  contained  in  a  Iragment  of  the  physician  Eufus  of  Ephesns, 
who  lived  in  the  time  of  Trajan,  preserved  in  the  Collections  of 
Oribasitis.^  Rufus  speaks  of  the  buboes  called  pestilential  as  being 
specially  fatal,  and  as  being  found  chiefly  in  Libya,  Egypt,  and 
Syria.  He  refers  to  the  teatimony'of  a  physician  Dionysius,  who 
lived  probably  in  the  3d  century  B.c.  or  earlier,  and  to  Dioscorides 
and  Posidonius,  who  fully  described  these  buboes  in  a  work  on  the 
plague  which  prevailed  in  Libya  in  their  time.  Whatever  the 
precise  date  of  these  physicians  may  have  been,  this  passage  shows 
the  antiquity  of  the  plague  in  northern  Africa,  which  for  centuries 
was  considered  as  its  home.  The  great  plague  referred  to  by  Livy 
(Ix.,  Epitome)  an  dmore  fully  by  Orosius  {Uistor.,  iv.  11)  was  pro- 
bably the  same,  though  the  symptoms  are  not  recorded.  It  is 
reported  to  have  destroyed  a  million  of  persons  in  Africa,  but  is 
not  stated  to  have  passed  into  Europe. 

It  is  not  till  the  6th  century  of  our  era,  in  the  reign  of  Justinian, 
that  we  find  bubonic  plague  in  Europe,  as  a  part  of  the  great  cycle 
of  pestilence,  accompanied  by  extraordinary  natural  phenomena, 
which  lasted  fifty  years,  and  is  described  with  a  singular  misunder- 
standing of  medical  terms  by  Gibbon'  in  his  forty-third  chapter. 
The  descriptions  of  the  contemporary  writers  Procopius,  Evagrius, 
and  Gregory  of  Tours  ar«  quite  unmistakable."  The  plague  of 
Justinian  began  at  Pelusium  in  Egypt  in  542  a.d.  ;  it  spread  over 
Egypt,  and  in  the  same  or  the  next  year  passed  to  Constantinople, 
where  it  carried  off  10,000  persons  in  one  day,  with  all  the 
symptoms  of  bubonic  plague.  It  appeared  in  Gaul  in  546,  where 
it  is  described  by  Gregory  of  Tours  with  the  same  symptoms  as 
Uies  inguinaria  (from  the  frequent  seat  of  buboes  in  the  groin). 
In  Italy  there  was  a  great  mortality  in  543,  but  the  most  notable 
epidemic  was  in  565,  which  so  depopulated  the  country  as  to  leave 
it  an  easy  prey  to  the  Lombards.  In  571  it  is  again  recorded  in 
Liguria,  and  in  590  a  great  epidemic  at  Kome  is  connected  with  the 
pontificate  of  Gregory  the  Great.  But  it  sprea/i  in  fact  over  the 
whole  Roman  world,  beginning  in  maritime  towns  and  radiating  in- 
land. In  another  direction  it  extended  from  Egypt  along  the  north 
coast  of  Africa.  Whether  the  numerous  pestilences  recorded  in  the 
7th  century  were  the  plague  cannot  now  be  said ;  but  it  is  pBssihle 
the  pestilences  in  England  chronicled  by  Bede  in  the  years  664,  672, 
679,  and  683  may  have  been  of- this  disease,  especially  as  in  690 
pestis  inguinaria  is  again  recorded  in  Rome.  For  the  epidemics  of 
the  succeeding  centuries  we  must  refer  to  more  detailed  works.' 

It  is  impossible,  however,  to  pass  over  tlie  gi'eat  cycle  of  epi- 
demics in  the  14th  century  known  as  the  Black  Death.  Whether 
in  all  the  pestilences  known  by  this  name  the  disease  was  really 
the  same  may  admit  of  doubt,  but  it  is  clear  that  in  some  at  least 
it  was  the  bubonic  plague.  Contemporary  observers  agree  that 
the  disease  was  introduced  from  the  East;  and  one  eye-witness, 
Gabriel  de  Mussis,  an  Italian  lawyer,  traced,  or  indeed  accom- 
panied, the  march  of  the  plague  from  the  Crimea  (whither  it  was 
said  to  have  been  introduced  from  Tartary)  to  Genoa,  where  with 
a  handful  of  survivors  of  a  Genoese  expedition  he  landed  pro- 
bably at  the  end  of  the  year  1347.  He  narrates  how  the  few  that 
had  themselves  escaped  the  pest  transmitted  the  contagion  to  all 
they  met.*  Other  accounts,  especially  old  Russian  chronicles, 
place  the  origin  of  the  disease  still  further  to  the  east  in  Cathay 
(or  China),  where,  as  is  confirmed  to  some  extent  by  Chinese 
records,  pestilence  and  destructive  inundations  are  said  to  have 
destroyed  the  enormous  number  of  thirteen  millions.  It  appears 
to  have  passed  by  way  of  Armenia  into  Asia  Minor  and  thence  to 
Egypt  and  northern  Africa.  Kearly  the  whole  of  Europe  was 
gradually  overrun  by  the  pestilence.  It  reached  Sicily  in  1346, 
Constantinople,  Greece,  and  parts  of  Italy  early  in  1347,  and 
towards  the  end  of  that  year  Marseilles.  In  1348  it  attacked 
Spain,  northern  Italy  and  Rome,  eastern  Germany,  many  parts  of 
France  including  Paris,  and  England;  from  England  it  is  said  to 
have  been  conveyed  to  the  Scandinavian  countries.  In  England 
the  western  counties  were  first  invaded  early  in  the  year,  and 
London  in  November.  In  1349  we  hear  of  it  in  the  midlands  ;  and 
in  subsequent  years,  at  least  till  1357,  it  prevailed  in  parts  of  the 
country,  or  generally,  especially  in  the  towns.     In  1352  Oxford 


*  Lib.  xliv.  cap.  11  ,—(Euvre$  de  Oribase,  ed.  Bussemaker  and  Daremberg,  Paris, 
1851,  vnl.  111.  p.  607. 

2  Evagrius,  ffisl.  Ecclet.,  Iv.  29 ;  Procoplns,  De  Bella  Persico,  ii.  22,  23. 

*  See  Noah  Webster's  History  of  Epidemic  Diseases^  8vo,  2  vols.,  London,  1800 
<a  work  which  makes  no  pretension  to  medical  learning,  but  exhibits  the  history 
of  epidemics  in  connexion  with  physical  cMsasters,  aa  earthquakes,  famines,  Ac); 
Lersch,  Kleine  Pest-Chronik,  8vo,  1880  (a  convenient  short  compendium,  but  not 
always  accurst*);  "  Athanasil  Kircherl  Chronologia  Peslium  "  (to  1656  a.d.),  in 
Scrutinium  Pestis  (Rome,  1658),  Leipsic,  Ifffl,  4to;  Bascome,  History  of  Epidemic 
Pestilences,  London,  1851,  8vo.  The  most  complete  medical  history  of  epidemics 
is  Haeser's  Qeschichte  der  epidemischen  Krankheiien  (3d  edition,  Jena,  1882),  form- 
InK  the  third  volume  of  his  History  of  Medicine. 

*  See  the  oHginal  account  reprinted  with  other  documents  in  Haeser,  Op.  cit.; 
also  Hecker,  Epidemics  of  the  Middle  Ages,  ti  ans.  by  Babington,  Sydenham  Soc, 
London,  1844  ;  Volkskrankheiten  des  Mitlelalters,  ed.  Hirsch.,  Berlin,  1865 ;  R. 
Hoenlger,  Der  Schwarze  Tod  in  Deutsehland,  Berlin,  1882. 


lost  two-thirds  of  her  academical  population.  The  oiilbrcaks  of 
1361  and  1368,  known  as  the  second  and  thiid  plagues  of  the  reign 
of  Edward  III.,  were  doubtless  of  tho  same  disease,  though  by 
some  historians  not  called  the  black  death.  Scotland  and  Ireland, 
though  later  affected,  did  not  escape. 

The  nature  of  this  pestilence  has  been  a  matter  of  much  contro- 
versy, and  some  have  doubted  its  being  truly  the  plague.  But 
when  the  symptoms  are  fully  described  they  seem  to  justify  this 
conclusion,  one  character  only  being  thought  to  make  a  distinction 
between  this  and  Oriental  plague,  viz.,  the  special  implication  of 
the  lungs  as  shown  by  spitting  of  blood  and  other  symptoms.  Guy 
de  Chauliac  notes  this  feature  in  the  earlier  epidemic  at  Avignon, 
not  in  the  later.  Moreover,  as  this  complication  was  a  marlced 
feature  in  certain  epidemics  of  ])lague  in  India,  the  hypothesis  has 
been  framed  by  Hirsch  that  a  special  variety  of  plague,  pestis 
Indica,  still  found  in  India,'  is  that  which  overran  the  world  iu  the 
14th  century.  But  the  same  symptoms  (haemoptysis)  have  been 
seen,  though  less  notably,  in  many  plague  epidemics,  even  in  the 
latest,  that  in  Russia  in  1878-79,  and,  moreover,  according  to  the 
latest  accounts,  are  not  a  special  feature  of  Indian  plague.  Accord- 
ing to  Surgeon-General  Francis  (Trans.  Epideth.  Soc.,  vol.  v. 
?.  398)  "  hsemorrhage  is  not  an  ordinary  accompaniment "  of 
ndian  plague,  though  when  seen  it  is  in  the  form  of  haemoptysis. 
It  seenis,  therefore,  impossible  to  make  a  special  variety  of  Indian 
plague,  or  to  refer  the  black  death  to  any  such  special,  form. 
Gabriel  de  Mussis  describes  it  even  in  the  EasV,  before  its  arrival  in 
Europe,  as  a  bubonic  disease. 

The  mortality  of  the  black  death  was,  as  is  well  known,  enor- 
mous. It  is  estimated  in  various  parts  of  Europe  at  two-thirds  or 
three-fourths  of  the  population  in  the  first  pestilence,  in  England 
even  higher,  but  some  countries  were  much  less  severely  affected. 
Hecker  calculates  that  one-fourth  of  the  population  of  Europe,  or 
25  millions  of  persons,  died  in  the  whole  of  the  epidemics.  It  b 
hardly  necessary  to  dwell  upon  the  social  results  of  this  terrible 
mortality.  In  England  great  part  of  the  country  remained  unfilled, 
and  tho  deficiency  of  labourers  was  such  as  to  cause  a  sudden  rise 
of  wages,  which,  in  spite  of  attempts  to  check  it  by  legislation,  is 
thought  to  have  effected  the  final  emancipation  of  the  labouring 
class.  On  the  other  hand  a  great  transfer  of  property  to  Iho 
church  took  place,  with  what  results  is  well  known. 

In  the  15th  century,  the  plague  recurred  frequently  in  nearly  all 
parts  of  Europe.  In  the  first  quarter  it  was  very  destructive  in 
Italy,  in  Spain  (especially  Barcelona  and  Seville) ,  in  Germany,  and 
in  England,  where  London  was  severely  visited  in  1400  and  1400, 
and  again  in  1428.  In  1427  80,000  persons  died  in  Dantzic  and  the 
neighbourhood.  In  1438-39  the  plague  was  in  Germany,  audits 
occurrence  at  Basel  was  described  by  .ffineas  Sylvius,  aiterwards 
Pope  Pius  II.  In  1448-.  0  Italy  (Kircher),  Germany  (Lersch,  from 
old  chronicles),  France,  and  Spain  were  ravaged  by  a  plague  supposed 
to  have  arisen  in  Asia,  scarcely  less  destructive  than  the  black 
death.  England  was  probably  seldom  quite  free  from  plague,  but 
the  next  great  outbreak  is  recorded  in  1472  and  following  years. 
In  1466  40,000  persons  died  of  plague  in  Paris;  in  1477-85  the 
cities  of  northern  Italy  were  devastated,  and  in  1485  Brussels. 
In  the  fifteenth  year  of  Henry  VII.  (1499-1500)  a  severe  plague  in 
London  caused,  the  king  to  retire  to  Calais. 

'The  16th  century  was  not  more  free  from  plague  than  the  15th. 
Simultaneously  with  a  terrible  pestUence  which  is  reported  to  have 
nearly  depopulated  China,  plague  prevailed  over  Germany,  Holland, 
Italy,  and  Spain  in  the  first  decade  of  the  century,  and  revived  at 
various  times  in  the  first  half.  In  1529  there  was  plague  in  Edin- 
burgh ;  in  London  in  1537-39,  and  again  1547-48  ;  and  also  in  the 
north  of  England,  though  probably  not  absent  before.  Some  of 
the  epidemics  of  this  period  in  Italy  and  Germany  are  known  by 
the  accounts  of  eminent  physicians,  as  Vochs,  Fracastor,  Mercuri- 
alis,  Borgarucci,  Ingrassia,  Massaria,  Amici,  &c.,'  whose  writings 
are  important  because  the  question  of  contagion  first  began  to  be 
raised,  and  also  plague  had  to  be  distinguished  from  typhus  fever, 
which  began  in  this  century  to  appear  in  Europe. 

The  epidemic  of  1563-64  in  London  and  England  was  very 
severe,  a  thousand  dying  weekly  in  London.  In  Paris  about  this 
time  plague  was  an  everyday  occurrence,  of  which  some  were  less 
afraid  than  of  a  headache  (Borgarucci).  In  1570  200,000  persons 
died  in  Moscow  and  the  neighbourhood,  in  1572  50,000  at  Lyons ;  in 
1568  and  1574  plague  was  at  Edinburgh,  and  in  1570  at  Newcastle. 
When,  however,  in  1575  a  new  wave  of  plague  passed  over  Europe, 
its  origin  was  referred  to  Constantinople,  whence  it  was  said  to 
have  spread  by  sea  to  Malta,  Sicily,  and  Italy,  and  by  land  through 
the  Austrian  territories  to  Germany.     Others  contended  that  the 

»  Vochs,  Opmculum  de  Pestilenlia,  1537  ;  Fracastorius,  "Dc  Contagione,  &c.." 
Opera,  Ven.,'l555  ;  Hleron.  Merourialis,  De  Pcste,  pnesertim  dr.  Vencta  et  Pata- 
vina,  Basel,  1577;  Prosper  Borgarutius,  De  Peste,  Ven.,  1685,  ,8vo ;  .Filippo 
Ingrassia,  fnformatione  del  pestifero  morbo  .  .  .  Palermo  e  .  .  .  Regno  di 
Sicilia,  1.575-76,  410,  Palermo,  1676-77;  A.  Massaria.  De  Pcste,  Vcn.,  1597; 
Diomedes  Amicus,  Tres  Iractatus,  Ven.,  1599,  4to;  Victor  de  Bonagentlbus, 
Decern  Problemata  de  Pesle,  Ven.,  1556,  8vo;  Georpius  Agricola,  De  Pcste  hbii 
tres,  Basel,  1654,  8vo.  The  works  of  Englisli  physicians  of  tliis  period  arc  of  litlle 
medical  value ;  but  Lodge's  Treatise  oflhePlague  (London,  160S)  deserves  mention. 


PLAGUE 


1G5 


disease  originated  locally;  anJ,  indeed,  considering  previous  history, 
HO  importation  of  plague  would  seem  necessary  to  explain  its  pres- 
ence in  Europe.  Italy  suffered  severely(Vcnice,inl576,lost  70,000); 
the  north  of  Europe  not  less,  though  later  ;  London  in  1580-82.  In 
1585  Breslau  witnessed  the  most  destructive  plague  known  in  its 
liistory.  The  great  plague  of  1592  in  London  seems  to  have  been  a 
jiart  of  the  same  epidemic,  which  was  hardly  extinguished  by  the 
end  of  the  century,  and  is  noted  in  London  again  in  1599.  On  the 
whole,  this  century  shows  a  decrease  of  plague  iu  Europe. 

In  the  first  half  of  the  17th  century  plague  was  still  prevalent 
in  Europe,  though  considerably  less  so  than  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
In  the  second  half  a  still  greater  decline  is  observable,  and  by  the 
third  quarter  the  disease  had  disappeared  or  wa's  disappearing  from 
a  great  part  of  western  Europe.      The  epidemics  in  England  will 
be  most  conveniently  considered  In  one  series.     From  this  time 
onwards  we  have  the  guidance  of  the  "  Bills  of  Mortality  "  issued 
in  London,  which,  though  drawn  up  on  the  evidence  of  ignorant 
persons,  are  doubtless  roughly  true.     The  accession  of  James  I.  in 
1603  was  marked  by  a  very  destructive  plague  which  killed  38,000 
in  London.     In  this  and  subsequent  years  the  disease  was  widely 
difl'used  in  England — for  instance,  Oxford,  Derbyshire,  Newcastle. 
It  prevailed  at  the  same  time  in  Holland,  and  had  done  so  some 
years  previously  in  northern  Germany.     In  the  same  .year  (1603) 
one  million  persons  are  said  to  have  died  of  plague  iu  Egypt.    This 
plague  is  said  to  have  lasted  eight  years  iu  London.     At  all  events 
in  1609  we  have  the  second  great  plague  year,  with  a  mortality  of 
11,785.      After  this  there  is  a  remission  till  about  1620,  when 
jilague   again   began   to   spread   in    northern    Europe,    especially 
Germany  and  Holland,  which  was  at  that  time  ravaged  by  war. 
In  1025  (the  year  of  the  siege  of  Breda  iu  Holland)  is  the  third 
great  London  plague  with  35,417  deaths, — though  the  year  1624 
was  remarkably  exempt,  and  1626  nearly  so.     In   1630  was  the 
great  plague  of  Milan,  described  by  Ripamonti.'      In  1632  a  severe 
epidemic,  apparently  plague,   was  in   Derbyshire.       1636   is   the 
fourth  great  plague  year  in  London  with  a  mortality  of  10,400,  and 
even  in  the  next  year  3082  persons  died  of  the  same  disease.     The 
same  year  7000  out  of  20,000  inhabitants  of  Newcastle  died  of 
plague;  in  1635  it  was  at  Hulk     About  the  same  time,  1635-37, 
plague  was  prevalent  in  Holland,  and  the  epidemic  of  Nimeguen 
IS  celebrated  as  having  been  described  by  Diemerbroeck,  whose 
v/otk .  (TraclaCus  de  Pcsle,    4to,    1641-65)  is    one    of    the    most 
important  on  the  subject.     The  English  epidemic  was  widely 
spread  and  lasted  till  1647,  in  which  year,  the  mortality  amount- 
ing to  3597,  we  have  the  fifth  epidemic  in  London.     The  army 
diseases  of  the  Civil  Wafs  were  chiefly  typhus  and  malarial  .fevers, 
but  plague  was  not  unknown  among  them,  as  at  Wallingford  Castle 
(Willis,  "OfFeavcrs,";fo)-i!:s,  ed.  1681,  p.  131)aud  Dunstar  Castle. 
From  this  time  till  1664  little  was  heard  of  plague  in  England, 
though  it  did  not  cease  on  the  Continent.     In  Ireland  it  is  said  to 
have  been  seen  for  the  last  time  in  1650.' 

In  1656  one  of  the  most  destructive  of  all  recorded  epidemics 
in  Europe  raged  in  Naples  ;  it  is  said  to  have  carried  off  300,000 
persons  in  the  apace  of  five  months.  It  passed  to  Korae,  but  there 
was  much  less  fatal,  making  14,000  victims  only — a  result  attri- 
buted by  some  to  the  precautions  and  sanitary  measures  introduced 
by  Cardinal  Gastaldi,  whose  work,  a  splendid  folio,  written  on 
this  occasion  (Tractalva  de  averUiula  et  projliganda  peste  politico- 
legalis,  Bofogna,  1684)  is  historically  one  of  the  most  important 
on  the  subject  of  quarantine,  &o.  Genoa  lost  60,000  inhabitants 
from  the  same  disease,  but  Tuscany  remained  untouched.  The 
comparatively  limited  spread  of  this  frightful  epidemic  in  Italy  at 
this  time  is  a  most  noteworthy  fact.  Minorca  is  said  to  have  been 
depopulated.  Nevertheless  the  epidemic  spread  in  the  next  few 
years  over  Spain  and  Germany,  and  a  little  later  to  Holland,  where 
Amsterdam  in  1663-64  was  af;ain  ravaged  with  a  mortality  given  as 
50,000,  also  Rotterdam  and  Haarlem.  Hamburg  suffered  in  1664. 
The  Oreat  Plague  of  London. — The  preceding  enumeration  will 
have  prepared  the  reader  to  view  the  great  plague  of  1664-66  in  its 
true  relation  to  others,  and  not  as  an  isolated  phenomenon.  The 
preceding  years  had  been  unusually  free  from  plague,  and  it  was 
not  mentioned  in  the  bills  of  mortality  till  in  the  autumn  of  1664 
(November  2d)  a  few  isolated  cases  were  observed  in  the  parishes 
of  St  Giles  and  St  Martin's,  Westminster,  and  a  few  occurred  in 
the  following  winter,  which  was  very  severe.  About  May  1C85  the 
disease  again  became  noticeable,  and  spread,  but  somewhat  slowly. 
Boghurst,  a  contemporary  doctor,  notices  that  it  crept  down  Hol- 
bora  and  took  six  months  to  travel  from  the  western  suburbs  (St 
Giles)  to  the  eastern  (Stepney)  through  the  city.  The  mortality 
rapidly  rose  from  43  in  M.iy  to  690  in  Juno,  6137  in  July,  17,036  in 
August,  31,159  in  September,  after  which  it  began  to  decline.  The 
total  number  of  deaths  from  plague  in  that  year,  according  to  the 
hills  of  mortality  was  68,696,  in  a  population  estimated  at  400,000,' 

'  Joaephua  Rlpomonllm,  De  Petit  annt  1650,  Milan.  1641,  4to. 

'  For  thti  period  sco  Index  to  l{ememl>ranc(a  In  Arehtvit  of  Clly  cf  LcnJon, 
I.'j79-166-I,  Land.,  1878;  IHcliardson,  I'lague  and  PatUcnce  in  Norlli  of  Enotani 
Newc.isHe,  1902. 

'  GrauDt,  Obiervationl  on  tin  DilU  of  iforlalUt,  3d  cd..  Londoi>.  'MS. 


out  of  whom  two-thiicls  arc  supposed  to  have  lied  to  escape  the 
contagion.  This  number  is  likely  to  be  rather  too  low  than  too 
high,  since  of  the  6432  deaths  from  spotted  fever  many  were  pro- 
bably really  from  plague,  though  not  declared  so  to  avoid  painful 
restrictions.  In  December  there  was  a  sudden  fall  in  the  mortality 
which  continued  through  the  winter ;  but  in  1666  nearlv  2000 
deaths  from  plague  are  recorded. 

According  to  some  authorities,  especially  Hodges,  the  piague  wiis 
imported  into  London  by  bales  of  merchandise  from  Holland,  which 
came  originally  from  the  Levant ;  according  to  others  it  was  intro- 
duced by  Dutch  prisoners  of  war  ;  but  Boghurst  regarded  it  as  of 
local  origin.  It  is  in  favour  of  the  theory  that  it  spread  by  some 
means  from  Holland  that  plague  had  been  all  but  extinct  in 
London  for  some  seventeen  years,  and  prevailed  in  Holland  in 
1603-04.  But  from  its  past  his*ory  and  local  conditions,  London 
might  well  be  deemed  capable  of  producing  such  an  epidemic.  In 
the  bills  of  mortality  since  1603  there  are  only  three  years  when  no 
deaths  from  plague  are  recorded.  The  uncleanlincss  of  the  city 
was  comparable  to  that  of  Oriental  cities  at  the  present  day,  and, 
according  to  contemporary  testimony  (Garencieres,  Anglies  Flagcl- 
htm,  London  1047,  p.  85),  little  improved  since  Erasnius  wrote  his 
well-known  description.  The  spread  of  the  disease  only  partially 
supported  the  doctrine  of  contagion,  as  Boghurst  says: — "The 
disease  spread  not  altogether  by  contagion  at  first,  nor  began  only 
at  one  place  and  spread  further  and  further  as  an  eating  sore  doth 
all  over  the  body,  but  fell  upon  several  places  of  city  and  suburbs 
like  rain."  In  fact  dissemination  seems  to  have  taken  place,  as 
usual,  by  the  conversion  of  one  house  after  another  into  a  focus  of 
disease,  a  process  favoured  by  the  fatal  custom  of  shutting  up  infected 
houses  with  all  their  inmates,  which  was  not  only  almost  equivalent 
to  a  sentence  of  death  on  all  therein,  but  caused  a  dangerous  con- 
centration of  the  poison.  The  well-known  custom  of  marking  such 
houses  with  a  red  cross  and  the  legend  "God  have  mercy  upon  us  !" 
was  no  new  thing;  it  is  found  in  a  proclamation  in  the  possession 
of  the  present  writer  dated  1641  ;  and  it  was  probably  older  still. 
Hodges  testifies  to  the  futility  and  injurious  ellects  of  these  regu- 
lations.  The  lord  mayor  and  magistrates  not  only  carried  out  the 
appointed  administrative  measures,  but  looked  to  the  cleanliness  of 
the  city  and  the  relief  of  the  poor,  so  that  there  was  little  or  no 
actual  want ;  and  the  burial  arrangements  appear  to  have  been  well 
attended  to.  The  college  of  physicians,  by  royal  command,  put 
forth  such  advice  and  prescriptions  as  were  thought  best  for  the 
emergency.  But  it  is  clear  that  neither  these  measures  nor  nicdicnl 
treatment  had  any  effect  in  checking  the  disease.  Early  in 
November  with  colder  weather  it  began  to  decline ;  and  in 
December  there  was  so  little  fear  of  contagion  that  those  who  had 
left  the  city  "crowded  back  as  thick  as  they  fled."  As  has  often 
been  observed  in  other  plague  epidemics,  sound  people  could  enter 
infected  houses  and  even  sleep  in  the  beds  of  those  who  had  died  of 
the  plague  ""before  they  were  even  cold  or  cleansed  from  the  stench 
of  the  diseased  "  (Hodges).  The  symptoms  of  the  disease  being  such 
as  have  been  generally  observed  need  not  be  here  considered.  The 
disease  was,  as  always,  most  destructive  in  squalid,  dirty  neighbour- 
hoods and  among  the  poor,  so  as  to  be  called  the  "  poor's  plague." 
Those  who  lived  in  the  town  in  barges  or  ships  did  not  take  tlio 
disease  ;  and  the  houses  on  London  Bridge  were  but  little  affected. 
Of  those  doctors  who  remained  in  the  city  some  eight  or  nine 
died,  not  a  large  proportion.  Some  had  the  rare  courage  to  investi- 
gate the  mysterious  disease  by  dissecting  the  bodies  of  the  dead. 
Hodges  implies  that  ho  did  so,  though  ho  left  no  full  account  of  hia 
observations.  Dr  George  Thomson,  a  chemist  and  a  disciple  of  Van 
Helmont,  followed  the  example,  and  nearly  lost  his  life  bv  an  attack 
which  immediately  followed.* 

The  plague  of  1665  was  widely -spread  over  England,  and  was 
generally  regarded  as  having  been  transmitted  from  London,  as  it 
appeared  mostly  later  than  in  the  metropolis,  ami  in  many  cases  the 
importation  by  a  particular  person  could  bo  traced.  Places  near 
London  were  earliest  offcctod,  as  Brentford,  Greenwich,  Dcptford  ; 
but  in  July  or  August  1066  it  was  already  in  Southampton,  hunder- 
land,  Newcastle,  &c.  A  wider  distribution  occurred  in  the  next 
year.  Oxford  entirely  escaped,  though  tho  residence  of  tho  court 
and  ill  constant  communication  with  London.  Tho  exemption  was 
attributed  to  cleanliness  and  good  driiiimge. 

After  1666  there  was  no  epidemic  of  plague  in  London  or  any 
part  of  England,  though  sporadic  cases  appear  in  bills  of  mortality 
up  to  1679  ;  and  a  column  filled  up  with  "0"  was  left  till  1703, 


*  On  tho  plflsnio  of  1665  w»o  Nutli.  Ilodfre s,  Loimotoffia  itre  Petti*  nuperm  apud 
populum  Londittmifm  narraiio.  I.on*lon.  167a,  8vo,— In  Kn^llah  by  Qlilncjr.  Londr>n, 
1720  <tJio  chief  authority);  Aot^oypatjita,  or  an  Krpei-imnitat  lithttion  of  thf  tati 
Plague  in  the  City  of  London,  liy  Wllllnm  Bogluinl,  apoHipcary  In  St  Ollca'K-ln- 
thc-Klel'U,  London,  1666.— a  JI.S.  tn  Hi1tl»h  >Ius4!Uni  (Slonno  34P),  conlaltilns 
Important  delfdtn';  GcorRO  Thonuon,  AOIMOTOMIA,  or  the  Pett  Anatomitnl, 
8vo,  London,  1666  ;  Sydenham,  "  Kcbria  irnUlrntlall.'  ct  pe»lla  nnnonim  1666-66," 
Opera,  cd.  Orccnhlll,  p.  96,  London.  IStl;  follrettcn  of  Scarce  Pieeet  on  the 
Plague  m  166C,  London,  1721.  Hvo  ;  Drfoc  ■  fnrrlnatlnR  youmof  o/ a  Citixfn, 
which  ahould  bo  l-pnd  and  aduihcd  aa  a  fIcUon,  but  accepted  «lUi  caution  aa 
history ;  T.  Vincent  (minlaler  of  tho  «oi|iel),  (lodt  Trrrible  Voice  in  the  CUy, 
8vo,  London,  16C7  i  Calendar  of  Stale  P.aptrt,  166&-6  (DomcaUc  Scrica),  by  H.  IL 
Gr^cD. 


166 


PLAGUE 


ivhcn  it  finally  ilisappcareil.  Tlie  disappearance  of  plague  in  London 
WAS  attributed  to  the  Great  Fire,  but  no  such  cause  existed  in  other 
cities.  It  has  also  been  ascribed  to  quarantine,  but  no  effective 
quarantine  was  established  till  1720,  so  that  the  cessation  of  plague 
in  England  must  b*  regarded  as  spontaneous. 

But  this  was  no  isolated  fact.  A  similar  cessation  of  plague  was 
noted  soon  after  in  the  greater  part  cf  western  Europe.  In  1666  a 
severe  plague  raged  in  Cologne  and  on  the  Rhine,  which  was  pro- 
longed till  16"0  in  the  district.  In  the  Netherlands  there  was 
]ilague  in  1667-69,  but  there  are  no  definite  notices  of  it  after  1672. 
France  saw  the  last  plague  epidemic  in  1668,  till  it  reappeared  in 
1720.  In  the  years  1675-84  a  new  plague  epidemic  appeared  in 
North  Africa,  Turkey,  Poland,  Hungary,  Austria,  and  Germany,  pro- 
gressing generally  northward.  JIalta  lost  11,000  persons  in  1675. 
The  plague  of  Vienna  in  1679  was  very  severe,  c.using  76,000  or 
probably  more  deaths.  Prague  in  1681  lost  83,000  by  plague. 
Dresden  was  affected  in  1680,  Magdeburg  and  Hallo  in  1682, — in 
the  latter  to\vn  with  a  mortality  of  4397  out  of  a  population  of 
about  10,000.  Many  North  German  cities  s'lfiered  about  the  same 
time  ;  but  in  1683  the  plague  disappeared  from  Germany  till  the 
epidemic  of  1707.  In  Spain  it  ceased  about  1681;  in  Italy  cer- 
tain cities  were  attacked  till  the  end  of  the  century,  but  not  later 
(Hirsoh). 

Plague  in  the  19th  Centiirtj. — At  the  beginning  of  this  period 
plague  was  vei-y  prevalent  in  Constantinople  and  along  the  Danube. 
In  1703  it  caused  great  destruction  in  the  Ukraine.  In  1704  it 
began  to  spread  through  Poland,  and  later  to  Silesia,  Lithuania, 
Prussia,  and  a  great  part  of  Germany  and  Scandinavia.  In  Prus- 
sia and  Lithuania  283,000  persons  perished  ;  Dantzic,  Hamburg, 
and  other  northern  cities  suffered  severely.  Copenhagen  was 
attacked  in  1710.  In  Stockholm  there  was  a  mortality  of  40,000. 
Cert.-iin  places  near  Brunswick  (10°  E.  long. )  marked  the  western 
limit  of  the  epidemic  ;  and  cholera  was  arrested  at  the  same  spot 
in  later  years  (Haescr). ' 

At  the  same  time  the  plague  spread  westward  from  the  Danube 
to  Transylvania  and  Styria,  and  (1713)  appeared  in  Austria  and 
Bohemia,  causing  great  mortality  in  Vienna.  Thence  it  passed  to 
Prague  and  Ratisbon— to  the  former,  possibly  to  the  latter,  almost 
certainly  conveyed  by  human  intercourse.  This  city  (12"  E.  long.) 
was  the  western  limit  reached  in  this  year.  Haeser  states  that  the 
plague  disappeared  everywhere  in  Europe  after  the  great  hurricane 
of  February  27,  1714. 

In  1717  plague  raged  severely  in  Constantinople;  and  in  1719 
it  made  a  fresh  progress  westwards  into  Transylvania,  Htingary, 
Galicia,  and  Poland,  but  not  farther  (about  20°  E.  long.).  It 
thus  appears  that  each  successive  invasion  had  a  more  easterly 
western  limit,  and  tliat  the  gradual  narrowing  of  the  range  of 
plague,  which  began  in  the  17th  century,  was  still  going  on. 

This  process  suffered  a  temporary  intermprion  by  the  outbreak  of 
plague  of  southern  France  in  1720-22.  In  1720  Slarseilles  became 
affected  with  an  epidemic  plague,  the  origin  of  which  was  attributed 
by  some  to  contagion  through  the  ship  of  a  Captain  Chataud  which 
arrived.  May  20,  1720,  from  Syria,  where  plague  at  that  time  pre- 
vailed, though  not  epidemically  when  he  sailed.  Si.x  of  the  crew 
had  died  on  the  voyage  to  Leghorn,  but  the  disease  was  declared 
not  to  be  plague.  Cases  of  plague  occurred,  however,  on  the  ship, 
and  on  June  22  among  porters  unloading  the  cargo.  Hence, 
according  to  believers  in  contagion,  the  disease  passed  to  families 
in  the  "old  town,"  the  poorest  and  unhealthiest  quarter.  In  the 
meantime  other  ships  had  arrived  from  Syria,  which  were  put  in 
quarantine.  According  to  others  the  plague  arose  in  Marseilles 
from  local  causes ;  and  recently  discovered  data  show  that  suspicious 
cases  of  contagious  disease  occurred  in  the  town  before  the  arrival  of 
Chataud's  ship.'  Opinions  were  divided,  and  the  evidence  appears 
even  now  nearly  balanced,  though  the  believers  in  contagion  and 
importation  gained  the  victory  in  public  opinion.  The  pestilence 
was  fearfully  severe.  Thousands  of  unburied  corpses  filled  the 
streets,  andin  all  40,000  to  60,000  persons  were  carried  off.  In 
December  1721  the  plague  passed  away,  though  isolated  cases 
occurred  in  1722.  It  passed  to,  or  at  least  broke  out  in,  Aries  and 
Aix  in  1720,  causing  great  mortality,  but  in  Toulon  not  till  1721, 
when  it  destroyed  two-thirds  of  the  population.  The  epidemic 
spiKad  generally  over  Provence,  but  not  to  other  parts  of  France, 
notwithstanding  that,  as  confessed  .by  D'Antrechaus,  consul  of 
Toulon,  a  believer  in  the  exclusive  power  of  contagion,  there  were 
abundant  opportunities.  The  disease  was  in  fact,  as  in  other  cases, 
self-limited-.  In  all  87,659  persons  are  said  to  have  died  out  of  a 
population  of  nearly  250,000.^^ 

This  great  epidemic  caused  a  panic  in  England,  which  led  to  the 
introduction  (under  Mead's  advice)  of  quarantine  regulations,  never 
previously   enforced,   and   also   led   to   the   publication  of  many 

'  Relation  kislori()ue  tit  la  Peste  de  Marseille,  Cologne,  1721.  Paris,  1722,  4c.; 
Chicoyncau,  Vcrny,  &C.,  Vbserval ions  rt  Rrfiexions  .  .  .  d6  la  Peste,  Marseilles, 
1721;  Cliicoyncau,  'iraite  aela  Peste,  Pahs,  1744;  Littr^,  article  "  Peste,"  ia 
Gictiomuire  ae  ileJicine,  vol.  xxW.,  Paris,  1841.,        #  , 

'  O'Amrcrhnus,  /telalion  de  la  PeAe  de  Toulon  en  1721,  Palis,  1756  ;  G.  Lam- 
bci-t,  lliiioir'  de  la  Peste  tie  Touhn  en  1721,  Toulon.  18C1,  quoted  iy  Hicscr, 
Hesch^  tlir  epldenu  Krankh, 


pamphlets,  &c.,  beside  Jkad's  well-kuown  ZHteourse  on  rcstilcntiai 
Contagion  (London,  1720). 

Plague  ill  Sicily  in  1743. — An  outbreak  of  plague  at  Messina  in 
1743  is  important,  not  only  for  its  fatality,  but  as  one  of  tha 
strongest  cases  in  favour  of  the  theory  of  imported  contagion. 
Me.ssina  had  been  free  from  plagne  since  1624,  and  the  Sicilians 
prided  themselves  on  the  rigour  of  the  quarantine  laws  which  were 
thcujht  to  have  preserved  them.  In  May  1743  a  vessel  arrived 
from  Corfu,  on  board  of  which  had  occurred  some  suspicious  deaths. 
The  ship  and  cargo  were  burnt,  but  soon  after  cases  of  a  suspicious 
form  of  disease  were  observed  in  the  hospital  and  in  the  poorest 
parts  of  the  town  ;  and  in  tho  summer  a  fearful  epidemic  of  plagua 
developed  itself  which  destroyed  40,000  or  50,000  persons,  and  thea 
became  extinct  without  spreading  to  other  parts  of  Sicily. 

Spread  of  Plague  from  tht  East. — Independent  of  the  episodes  ol 
Marseilles  and  Jlessina,  the  spread  of  plagne  from  the  East  continued 
to  exhibit  the  above-mentioned  law  of  limitation.  In  1738-44  the 
disease  was  in  the  Ukraine,  Hungary,  the  borders  of  Carniola, 
Moravia,  and  Austria,  extending  along  the  Carpathians  as  far  aa 
Poland  (20°  E.  long.),  and  also  in  Bukowina  (25°  E.  long.).  It 
lasted  till  1745,  and  then  disappeared  from  those  parts  for  fifteen 
years.  In  1755-57  plague  prevailed  in  parts  of  Enropcan  Turkey, 
whence  it  on  one  occasion  extended  into  Transylvania,  in  the  neigh- 
bonrhood  of  Cronstadt,  where  it  was  checked  (25°-5  15.  long.).' 

In  1770  a  destructive  plague  arose  in  Moldavia  dnring  the  Russo- 
Turkish  War,  and  shortly  afterwards  in  Wallachia,  apparently 
endemic  in  the  former  country  at  least  It  ali'ected  also  Transyl- 
vania and  part  of  Hungary,  and  still  more  severely  Poland,  but 
was  confined  to  Podolia,  Volhynia,  the  Ukraine,  and  the  eastern 
part  of  Galicia  (25°  E.  long.),  not  even  penetrating  as  far  as 
Warsaw.  After  destroying,  it  is  said,  300,000  persons,  and  without 
being  checked  by  any  quarantine  regulations,  the  plague  died  out 
finally  in  March  1771,  being  remarkable  for  its  short  duration  and 
spontaneous  limitation  (Haeser). 

In  another  direction  the  plagne  spread  over  Little  Kusrfain  1770, 
and  desolated  Kieff,  while  in  the  next  year  it  broke  out  in  Moscow 
and  prodnced  one'  of  the  most  destructive  epidemics  of  modem 
times.  More  than  50,000  persons,  neariy  one-fourth  of  the  popula- 
tion, were  carried  off.'' 

The  remaining  European  phigue-epidemics  of  the  18th  ccntniy 
were  inconsiderable,  but  on  tnat  very  account  noteworthy.  Tran- 
sylvania was  again  affected  in  1785,  Slavonia  and  Livonia  (a  dis- 
trict of  eastern  Galicia)in  1795-96  (25'E.  long.),  Volhynia  in  1798. 
The  disease,  while  reappearing  in  the  seats  of  the  terrible  earlier 
epidemics,  was  more  limited  in  its  range  and  of  shorter  duration.* 
An  epidemic  in  Dalmatia  in  1783-84  is  noteworthy  in  connexion 
with  later  outbreaks  in  the  same  region.  In  tlie  last  years  of  th» 
century  (1799-1800)  there  was  a  new  epidemic  in  Syria  and  Egypt, 
where  it  affected  the  French  and  afterwards  the  English  army. 

Plague  in  tlu  19(/i  Century. — This  history  divides  itself  natnrally- 
into  two  periods — 1800-1845,  and  1853  to  the  present  time. 

lSOO-1845. — Plague  appeared  at  Constantinople  in  1802-3,  about 
the  same  time  in  Armenia  (Kars),  and  in  1801  in  Baghdad.  It  had 
prevailed  since  1798  in  Georgia  and  the  Caucasus,  and  m  1803-5 
began  to  spread  from  the  north  of  the  Caucasus  into  Russia,  till  ire 
1806  it  was  established  at  or  near  Astrakhan,  and  in  1807  reacheil 
Zareff,  200  miles  higher  up  the  Volga.  These  localities  are  inter- 
esting as  being  near  those  where  plagne  appeared  in  1877-78.  It  is 
also  said  to  have  entered  the  government  of  S'ratoff,  but  probably  no 
great  distance.'  The  plague  remained  in  the  Caucasus  and  Georgia, 
till  1819  at  least.  In  1828-31  it  was  m  Armenia,  and  again  in 
1840-43,  since  which  time  it  has  not  been  heard  of  in  that  country. 

In  1808  plague  was  at  Constantinople,  in  1809  at  Smyrna.     In 

1812  was  a  more  general  epidemic  affecting  these  places  and  also 
Egj^it.  An  outbreak  at  Odessa  is  supposed  to  have  been  brought 
from  Constantinople  and  thence  to  have  passed  to  Transylvania.     Iii 

1813  a  severe  plague  at  Bucharest  is  supposed  to  have  been  brought 
from  Constantinople.  About  the  same  time  plague  prevailed  in 
Bosnia,  and  is  supposed  to  have  passed  thence;  to  Dalmatia  in  1815. 
In  1814-15  it  again  appeared  in  Egypt,  and  o.ice  more  invaded  tho 
continent  of  Europe  iu  Albania  and  Bosnia.  Two  insular  outbreaks, 
Malta  in  1813  and  Corfu  in  1815,  atti'acted  much  attention  as  bein,5 
both  thought  to  be  cases  of  importation  by  sea-traffic  ^  and  thero 
seems  good  reason  for  this  opinion. 

A  panic  spread  through  Europe  in  1815  in  consequence  of  at. 
outbreak  in  Noja  on  the  eastern  coast  of  Italy,  its  last  appcaranco- 

3  Adam  Chenot,  Mhandlung  fon  dcr  Pest,  Dresden,  1776 ; 
17G6. 

<  Samoilowitz,  Me'moire  stir  la  Peste  en  Russie,  1771,  Par: 
De  la  Peste  en  1771,  Paris,  1784. 

5  Loiinser,  Pest  des  Orients,  Berlin,  1837,  p.  103;  Schraud 
179.1,  2  vols.,  Pesth,  1801. 

«  From  the  annals  of  the  Jlnvavian  community  of  Sarepta 
sclticfite  der  Druder-Gemeinde  Sarepta,  by  A.  Glitscli.  Sarepta 
also  Tholozan,  £pidemies  de  Peste  du  C'aucasi,' Paris.  1S73. 

7  Fuulltner,  On  the  Platjue  in  Malta,  Lnndon,  1820,  8vo;  J. 
of  the  Plague  in  Malta,  Goto,  Corfu,  and  Cephalonia,  London, 
'  treatise  on  the  Platjue  (at  Corfu),  London.  18J7:  Calvert.  " 
Malta,  1813,"  Mei.-Clti.  Iransactioni.  vi.  1. 


De  Peste,  Vienna, 

:s,  17S3 ;  Mcrtcns, 

,  Pest  in  Syrnnen, 

on  the  Volga.  (7<- 
and  Berlin,  i8Gi; 

.  D,  TuUy,  nistorj, 
1321,  8\-o:  While, 
On  the  Plague  ii> 


r  L  A  G  U  E 


1G7 


;n  tnat  country.  AccoHing  to  one  view  it  was  importoil  from  tlia 
opj)osite  coast  of  Dalmafia,  though  no  dcliiiite  history  of  contagion 
ivas  ostablislicdj  according  to  others,  it  originated  endcinically  in 
that  place.  It  remained,  liowever,  strictly  confined  to  a  suiall 
district,  porhans  in  consequence  of  the  extraordinarily  rigorous 
measures  of  isolation  adopted  by  the  Italian  Government.  In  1828 
an  isolated. epidemic  appeared  in  Greece  in  the  More.i,  supposed  to 
have  been  bronsht  by  ti-oops  from  Ejfjypt.  1  In  1824-25  an  outbreak 
took  place  atTutclikoffin  Bessarabia;  the  town  was  strictly  isol.ated 
by  a  military  coidou  aud  the  disease  did  not  spread."  Cronstadt 
in  Transylvania  was  tlvo  scene  of  a  small  outbreak  in  1828,  which 
was  said  to  be  isolated  by  similar  racasOres  (Lorinscr).  A  far  more 
serious  epidemic  wns  coimccted  with  the  campaign  of  the  liussian 
army  against  Turkay  in  1828-29.  Moldavia,  wSlachia,  and  Bes- 
sarabia were  widely  affected  ;  the  disease  broke  out  also  in  Odessa 
and  the  Crimea,  and  isolated  cases  occurred  in  Transylvania.  The 
most  northerly  points  reached  by  the  plague  were  near  Czernowitz 
on  the  frontier  of  Bessarabia,  and  Buko»  ina,  and  its  limitatiou  was 
as  before  attributed  to  the  Russian  and  Austrian  military  cordons. 

In  1831  another  epidemic  occurred  in  Constantinople  and 
Roumelia ;  in  1837  again  in  Koumelia,  and  in  Odessa, — its  l.ist 
appearance  in  those  regions,  and  the  last  on  the  European  continent 
except  an  isolated  outbreak  in  Dalmatia  in  1840,  and  one  in  Cou- 
stantinoplo  in  1841.' 

The  plague-epidemics  in  Egypt  between  1833  and  1845,  when  it 
was  last  observed  in  that  country,  are  very  important  in  the  history 
of  plague,  since  the  disease  wasalraost  for  the  first  time  scientifically 
studied  in  its  home  by  skilled  European  physicians,  chiefly  French. 
The  disease  was  found  to  be  less  contagious  than  reported  to  bo 
by  popular  tradition,  and  most  of  the  French  school  went  so  far  as 
to  deny  the  contagiousness  of  the  disease  altogether.  The  epidemic 
of  1S34-35  was  not  less  destructive  than  many  of  those  notorious  in 
history ;  but  in  1844-45  the  disease  disr.ppcared,  and  it  has  never 
been  seen  since  in  th?  country  which  was  for  centuries  regai-ded  as 
its  native  home.  This  result  can  hardly  be  attributed  to  quaran- 
tine, though  it  is  probable  that  increased  attention  to  sanitary 
measures  under  the  influence  of  educated  medical  officials  may  have 
had  much  to  do  with  it.  But  on  the  large  scale  it  is  a  part  of  tho 
great  eastward  recession  of  the  plague,  which  is  an  undoubted  fact, 
however  it  is  to  bo  explained.-  In  1840  Dalm.ntia  (17°  E,  long.),  in 
1841  Constantinople  (29°  E.  long.),  iu  1843-44  the  eastern  parts  or 
Egypt  (31°  E.  Ion".),  were  the  western  boundaries  of  plague.  Tho 
same  law  has,  with  one  notable  exception,  been  observed  since. 

1853-84. — Since  the  apparent  extinction  of  plagiie  in  Egypt  iu 
1845,  it  has  appeared  in  several  i)oint3of  Asia  and  jifrica,  and  once 
in  Europe. 

Iu  1853,  plagui  appeared  in  a  district  of  western  Arabia,  the 
Asir  country  in  North  Yemen,  and  it  is  known  to  have  occurred  in 
the  same  district  in  1815,  as  it  did  afterwards  in  1874  and  1879. 
In  1874  the  disease  extended  within  four  days'  march  of  Mecca. 
From  the  scantiness  of  population  the  mortality  has  not  been  grcat^ 
but  it  is  clear  that  this  is  one  of  the  endemic  seats  of  plague.'' 

In  June  1858  iutelligence  was  received  in  Constantinople  of  an 
outbreak  of  disease  at  the  small  town  Benghazi,  in  the  district  of 
Barca,  province  of  Tripoli,  North  Africa,  which  though  at  P.rst 
misunderstood  was  clearly  bubonic  plague.  From  later  researches 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  it  commenced  in  1856  or  i»  1855. 
The  disease  did  not  spread,  and  ceased  in  the  autumn,  to  return 
with  less  violence  in  1859,  when  it  died  out.  In  the  autumn  of 
1873  it  returned,  but  apparently  came. -^gain  to  a  spontaneous  termi- 
nation.    At  all  events  it  has  not  been  heard  of  since.' 

After  the  epidemic  of  Benghazi  in  1856-59,  plague  was  next 
heard  of  in  tho  district  of  Maku,  in  the  extreme  north-west  of  Persia 
in  November  1863.  It  occurred  in  a  scattered  population,  and  tho 
mortality  was  not  absolutely  large.' 

In  1867anontbreak  ofplague  was  reported  in  Mesopotamia  (Irak), 
among  the  marshes  of  llindioh  bordering  on  tho  lower  Euphrates  ; 
and,  as  it  has  ])revaiied  at  intervals  up  to  the  present  time  iu  tho 
sanie  country,  great  importance  attaches  to  its  history.  Tho  epi- 
demic began  in  December  1806  (or  probably  earlier)  and  ceased  in 
June  1867.  But  numerous  cases  of  non-fatal  mild  bubonic  disease 
(mild  plaguo  or  pcstis  minor)  occurred  both  before  and  after  tho 
epidemic,  and  according  to  Tholozan  sinvlar  cases  had  been  observed 
nearly  every  year  from  1856  to  1866.' 

The  next  severe  epidemic  of  plaguo  in  Irak  began  in  December 
1873.  But  facts  collected  by  Tholozan  show  that  pcstis  minor,  or 
sporadic  cases  of  true  plagne,  had  appeared  in  1808  and  subsequent 
years.  Tho  outbreak  of  1873-74  began  about  CO  miles  from  the 
origin  of  that  of  1867.  It  catisod  a  much  greater  mortality  and 
extended  over  a  much  wider  area  than  that  of  1867,  including  tho 


1  I..  A.  Gossc,  Rilation  tie  In  Piile  m  Orttt,  1827-28,  Paris,  1838. 
»  Lorlnser,  Pht  det  Orirnlf,  ji.  .'J19. 

•  For  tho  nuthorltk's,  see  Ui'-scr.  Op.  cil, 

•  J.  N.  Kadcllffo,  Jtrport  o/  Local  Oovrrnmtni  Boartl  1879-80,  Rtippl..  p.  43. 

•  Tllolozsn.'Za  /'rxle  en  Turijute  Jam  IfS  Tempi  UoJemei,  rurls,  1880. 

•  J.  Ncltcn  lUJrIlffc,  Report  of  the  Meiliciit  O^rir  of  the  J'riiy  Coiinett,  Ac, 
1876  :  also  In  J'upert  on  Lcpanline  Plague,  prcBcntcd  10  parliament,  187J),  p.  7, 

'  Xtiolo^an,  La  Peste  en  Turquie,  p.  86. 


towns  of  Kcrbela  and  Ililloli.  After  a  short  liitorval  it  rcappcird 
at  Divauieh  in  December  1874,  and  spread  over  a  much  wider  area 
than  iu  the  previous  epidemics.  This  epidemic  was  cartfuUy  stuiliod 
by  Surgeon-M,ajor  Colvill.*  He  estimated  the  mortality  at  4000. 
The  epidemic  ceased  in  July,  but  broke  out  agaiji  early  in  187G, 
and  in  this  year  extencjed  northwards  to  Baghdad  and  beyond. 
Tho  whole  area  now  affected  extended  250  miles  from  nortli-west 
to  south-east,  and  tho  total  number  of  deaths  was  believed  to  be 
20, COO.  In  1877  plague  also  -occurred  at  Shuster  in  south-west 
Persia,  probably  conveyed  by  pilgrims  rctnraiug.  from  Irak,  and 
caused  great  mortality. 

After  ita  customary  cessation  in  the  autumn  (a  pause  attributed 
33  before  to  the  clliciency  of  quarantine  regulations),  the  epidemic 
began  again  in  October  1876,  though  sporadic  cases  occurred  all  tlie 
summer.  TJie  disease  appeared  in  1877  in  other  parts  of  Mtsopo- 
timia  also  with  less  severity  than  in  1876,  but  over  a  wider  area, 
being  now  announced  at  Samara,  a  town  70  miles  above  Baglukid 
on  tho  Tigris.  Since  thou  the  existence  of  plague  iu  Caglidad  or 
Mesopotamia  has  not  been  announced  till  the  year  1834,  when  ac- 
counts again  appeared  in  the  newspapers,  and  in  July  the  usual 
official  statement  occurs  that  the  plague  has  been  stamped  out.  Tho 
above  account  of  plague  iu  Irak  is  the  most  coriiplete  history  of  a, 
succession  of  epidemics  in  one  couutry  which  we  have  had  of  lata 
years. 

To  complete  the  history  of  phiguo  in  Persia  it  skould  be  stated 
that  in  1870-71  it  appeared  iu  a  district  of  Mukri  in  Persi.in 
Kurdistan  to  the  south  of  Lake  Urumiah  (far  removed  from  the  out- 
break of  18tj3).  The  epidemic  appears,  however,  to  have  died  out  iu 
1871,  and  no  further  accounts  of  plaguo  there  have  been  received. 
Tho  district  iiad  sull'ered  in  the' great  epidemic  of  plague  in  Persia 
in  18'29-35.  In  the  ^\inter  1876-77  a  disease  which  appears  to 
have  been  plague  appeared  in  two  villages  in  the  extreme  north  of 
the  province  of  Khorasan,  about  25  leagues  from  the  south-east 
angle  of  tho  Caspian  Sea.  In  March  1877  plaguo  broko  out  in 
Ecsht,  a  town  of  20,000  inhabitants,  in  the  province  of  Ghil.in, 
near  the  Caspian  Sea  at  its  south-west  angle,  from  which  there  is  a 
certain  amount  of  trade  with  Astrakhan.  In  lS32a  very  destruc- 
tive plague  had  carried  oil'  half  the  inhabitants.  In  1877  the 
pl.aguo  was  very  fatal.  From  March  to  September  4000  persona- 
were  calculated  to  have  died.  The  disease  continued  till  the  spring 
of  1878.  In  1877  there  ii'as  a  doubtful  report  of  the  samo  disease 
at  Astrabad,  and  also  in  some  parts  nrar  the  Perso-Afghan  frontier. 
In  1878  plague  again  occurred  iu  Kurdistan  in  thedisti-ictof  So-uj- 
Bulak,  said  by  Dr  Tholozan  to  be  tho  samo  as  in  tho  district  of 
Mukri  wIkto  it  occurred  in  1870-71.  These  scattered  outbreaks  of 
plague  in  Persian  territory  are  the  more  remarkable  because  that 
country  has  been  generally  noted  for  its  freedom  from  plngue  (ns 
compared  with  Asiatic  Turkey  and  tho  Levant). 

It  has  since  been  known  that  a  few  cases  of  plaguo  occurred  iu 
January  1877  at  Baku  on  the  west  shore  of  the  Caspian,  iu  Russian 
territory. '' 

The  last  outbreak  of  pliigno  on  European  soil  was  that  of  1878-7'J 
on  the  banks  of  the  Volga,  which  caused  a  panic  thronghout 
Europe."  It  is  now  knon-n  that  in  tho  summer  of  1877  a  disease 
prevailed  in  several  villages  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Astrakhan 
and  in  tho  city  itself,  n-liich  was  cicariy  a  mild  form  of  plague 
{pestis  mintrr).  It  caus«l  no  deaths  (or  only  one  duo  to  acomplica- 
tion)  and  died  out  apparently  spontaneously.  An  oHicial  idiysicinn, 
Dr  Knstorsky,  who  investigated  tho  matter  for  the  Government, 
declared  tho  disease  to  I)o  identical  with  that  prevailing  in  the  suno 
year  at  Rcsht  in  Persia, ;  another  physician,  Dr  Janizky,  oven  gave 
it  tho  ntanGo{  jKstis  nostras.  In  October  1878  some  c.iscs  nppearetl 
in  the  4/fHit7;«orCoss?<!kmilitary  settlement  of  Vetlanka,  130  miles 
from  Astrakhan  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Volga,  which  seem  to 
have  puzzled  the  physicians  who  first  observed  them,  hut  on  Nov- 
ember 30th  were  recognized  as  being  but  tho  samo  mild  plngiio  ns 
had  been  observed  the  year  before  near  Astrakhan  by  Dr  Pbppner, 
chief  medical  officer  of  the  Cossacks  of  Astrnkhnn.  His  report  on 
tho  epidemic  is  the  only  original  one  wo  have.  At  tho  end  oj 
November"  the  disease  became  siuldonly  more  sovcrc,  and  most  of 
those  attacked  died;  and  from  the  21st  December  it  became  still 
more  malign[int,  death  occurring  in  some  cnse.s  in  a  few  hours,  and 
without  any  buboes  being  formed.  No  case  of  n-coviry  \vn»  known 
in  this  ]>cri"od.  At  the  end  of  tho  year  it  rapidlv  declimd,  and  in 
tho  first  weeks  of  January  still  more  so.  'nio  last  di-ath  ^ras  on 
January  24.  In  the  second  half  of  December,  when  tho  difesso 
had  already  lasted  two  months,  cases  of  plngun  occurred  in  sovcrni 
neighbouring  villages,  all  of  an  extremely  malignant  tj-po,  so  tha) 
iu  some  places  all  who  wore  attacked  died.  In  most  of  these  cases 
tho  disease  began  with  porsnna  who  had  been  at  Vetlanka,  though 
this  wos  not  univcrsalK  '    ^.      The  inhabitants  of  these 


t  on  Ueantine  Plague,  1879. 
'iiiziin  liittoire  *lc  la  Petto  Buboniqve  en 


8  See  Ills  report  cKod  by  I:  ■ 

0  J.  Nelten   IMdcllffo.  yifuin 
Perse,  I'orls,  1874. 

'•  Sec  Hu.lclir/c,  Reporit,  1879-('0;  Illricli  niwl  Sonunorbrodl,  PellKpUimie 
1.178  9,  in  Atlrarhan,  Beillll,  lisO;  Zijlnr,  t4  PeUe  d  MIrailian  en  I8;s  9, 
I'ails,  I8sn  ;  Culvlll  ond  I'ayne,  liepoit  to  Ihe  lord  PrciidtM  o/lHiCauncU,  18If 

11  TLc  dates  arc  alt  reduced  to  li(.w  ilf  Ic. 


168 


P  L  A  — P  L  A 


villages,  terrified  at  the  accounts  from  Vetlanka,  strictly  isolated  the 
sick,  and  thus  probably  checked  the  spread  of  the  disease.  But  it 
evidently  sutTered  a  spontaneous  decline.  By  the  end  of  January 
there  were  no  cases  left  in  the  district  except  at  one  village  (Selitren- 
noye),  where  the  last  occurred  on  the  9th  February.  The  total 
number  of  cases  in  Vetlanka,  out  of  a  population  of  about  1700, 
was  417,  of  whom  362  died.  In  the  other  villages  there  were 
about  62  deaths  from  plague,  and  not  more  than  two  or  three  cases 
of  recovery.  In  consequence  of  the  alarm  excited  by  this  last 
appearance  of  plague  upon  European  soil,  most  European  Govern- 
ments sent  special  commissions  to  the  spot  The  British  commis- 
sioners were  Surgeon-Major  Colvill  and  the  present  writer,  who,  like 
all  the  foreign  commissioners,  reached  the  spot  when  the  epidemic 
was  over.  With  respect  to  the  origin  of  this  epidemic,  the  possi- 
bility of  its  having  originated  on  the  spot,  as  in  Resht  and  on  the 
Euphrates  in  very  similar  situations,  is  not  to  be  denied.  An  attempt 
;was  made  to  show  that  the  contagion  was  brought  home  by  Cossacks 
returning  from  the  Turkish  War,  but  on  absolutely  no  evidence.  In 
the  opinion  of  the  writer  the  real  beginning  of  the  disease  was  in  the 
year  1877,  in  the  vicinity  of  Astrakhan,  and  the  sudden  develop- 
ment of  the  malignant  out  of  a  mild  form  of  the  disease  is  no  more 
than  has  been  observed  in  other  places.  The  Astrakhan  disease 
may  have  been  imported  from  Resht  of  Baku,  or  may  have  been 
caused  concurrently  with  the  epidemics  of  these  places  by  some 
cause  affecting  tne  basin  of  the  Caspian  generally.  But  the  condi- 
tions under  which  these  mild  or  miasmatic  forms  of  plague  are 
spread  are  as  yet  unknown. 

Plague  in  India. — It  used  to  be  held  as  a  maxim  that  plague 
never  appeared  east  of  the  Indus ;  nevertheless  it  has  been  observed 
during  this  century  in  more  than  one  distinct  centre  in  India.  So 
long  ago  as  1815  the  disease  appeared  in  Guzerat,  Kattywar,  and 
Cutch,  "after  three  years  of  severe  famine."  It  reappeared  early 
next  year,  in  the  same  locality,  when  it  extended  to  Sind  as  far  as 
Hyderabad,  and  in  another  direction  south-east  as  far  as  Ahmeda- 
bad  and  Dhollerah.  But  it  disappeared  from  these  parts  in  1820 
or  early  in  1821,  and  was  not  heard  of  again  till  July  1836,  when 
a  diseasa  broke  out  into  violence  at  the  town  of  Pali  in  Marwar  in 
Rajputana.  It  spread  from  Pali  to  the  province  of  Meywar,  but 
died'  out  spontaneously  in  the  hot  season  of  1837,  and  has  never 
been  heard  of  again  in  that  part  of  India.  The  origin  of  these  two 
epidemics  was  obscure.  No  importation  from  other  countries  could 
be  traced.  _ 

In  1823  (though  not  officially  known  till  later)  an  epidemic 
broke  out  at  Kedarnath  in  Gnrwhal,  a  sub-district  of  Kumaon  on 
the  south-west  of  the  Himalayas,  on  a  high  situation.  In  1834  and 
1836  other  epidemics  occurred,  which  at  last  attracted  the  attention 
of  Government.  In  1849-50,  and  again  in  1852.  the  disease  raged 
very  severely  and  spread  southward. .  In  1853  Dr  Francis  and  Dr 
Pearson  were  appointed  a  corhmission  to  inquire  into  the  malady. 
In  1876-77  another  outbreak  occurred,  since  wtich  time  no  accounts 
of  the  epidemic  have  been  received.  The  symptoms  of  this  disease, 
called  maha  murree  by  the  natives,  are  precisely  those  of  Oriental 
plague.  The  feature  of  blood-spitting,  to  which  much  importance 
has  beeirattached,  appears  to  be  not  a  common  one.  A  very  remark- 
able circumstance  is  the  death  of  animals  (rats,  and  more  rarely 
snakes),  which  occurs  at  the  outbreak  of  an  epidemic.  The  rats 
bring  up  blood,  and  the  body  of  one  examined  after  death  by  Dr 
Francis  showed  an  affection  of  the  lungs.  Maha  murree  is  inteiisely 
communicable,  but  does  not  show  much  tendency  to  spread,  since 
pilgrims  who  visit  the  mountain  shrines  are  not  affected  and  do  not 
convey  the  disease.  It  is  doubtless  connected  with  uncleanliness 
and  poverty,  but  Dr  Francis  believes  that  the  poison  exists  in  the 
soil,  which  becomes  more  and  more  contaminated  with  it.  The 
disease  is  pretty  clearly  endemic,  not  imported.' 

It  is  remarkable  that  of  late  years  reports  have  come  of  the 
occurrence  of  Oriental  plague  in  China.  It  has  been  observed  in 
the  province  of  Yunnan  since  1871,  and  also  at  Pakhoi,  a  port  in 
the.Tong-king  Gulf,  as  lately  as  1882, — but  said  to  have  prevailed 
there  at  least  fifteen  years.  In  Yunnan  it  appears  to  be  endemic, 
though  there  are  rumours  of  its  having  been  brought  from  Barmah, 
and  become  more  noticeable  after  the  suppression  of  a  rebellion  in 
that  province.  The  climate  is  temperate  and  the  countiy  partly 
mountainous.  Some  regard  the  disease  as  being  conveyed  from 
Pakhoi  to  Yunnan.  In  both  places  the  symptoms  were  the  same, 
of  undoubted  bubonic  plague.  It  has  always  been  noticed,  as  in 
India,  that  rats  leave  their  holes  and  die  at  the  beginning  of_an 
epidemic  ;  and  the  same  mortality  has  been  observed  among  oats, 
dogs,  cattle,  ponies,  deer,  &c.  At  Pakhoi  it  recurs  nearly  every 
year.'  Uncleanly  habits  have  much  to  do  with  fostering  the 
disease. 

>  On  Indian  plague.  Bee  Francis,  Trans.  Epidem.  Soe.  Land.,  vol.  iv.  pp.  407-8 ; 
John  Murray,  ibid.,  vol.  iv,  part  2 ;  J.  N.  Radcliffe,  Reports  of  Local  Government 
Board,  1875, 1876, 1877,  and  for  1879-80  ;  PartiamentaryPapers,  1879;  Frederick 
Forbes,  On  Plague  in  P^orth-West  Provinces  of  India,  Edinburgh,  1840  (Disaerta- 
tion);  Hirsch,  Randbuch  der  hiUorischen-geogr.  Pathologie,  vol.  i.  p.  209,  .1860 
(Enc  trans,  by  Crelghton,  London,  1883);  Heckcr's  VoU-skrankheilen  da  Slillel- 
alters,  Berlin,  186.5,  p.  101 ;  Webb,  Palhotogia  Jndica,  2d  ed.,  Calcutta,  1848. 

«  See  J.N.  lUaaiBe't  Report  for  1879-80,  p.  45;  Hiaaoaia  Reports  o/ Imperial 


It  thus  appears  that  at  the  present  time  plague  exist.'!,  or  h.na 
existed  within  ten  years,  in  the  following  parts  of  the  world : — (1) 
Benghazi,  Africa  ;  (2)  Persian  Kurdistan  ;  (3)  Irak,  on  the  Tigris 
and  Euphrates ;  (4)  the  Asir  country,  western  Arabia ;  (5)  on  the 
lower  Volga,  Russia  ;  (8)  northern  Persia  and  the  shores  of  the 
Caspian;  (7)  Kumaon  and  Gurhwal,  India;  (8)  Yunnan  and  Pak- 
hoi, China.  Except  Benghazi  all  these  places  show  an  eastward 
recession  as  compared  with  the  old  seats  of  plague  known  to  us. 

Lilei'ature. — See  the  following  works,  besides  those  already  quoted'  : — Kamin- 
tus,  Regim  en  conira  epidimiam  sive  pestem,  4to,  circa  1494  (many  editions); 
Jacobus  Soldoa,  Opus  insigne  de  Peste,  4to,  Bologna,  1478;  Alex.  IJenedictus, 
De  Observalione  in  Pestilentia,  4to,  Ven.,  1493;  Nicolaua  Jlasst,  De  Febre 
PesCilenlia,  4to,  Yen.,  1556,  Ac;  [Fioravanti,  Rcgimenlo  delta  Peste,  8vo.  Ven., 
1565);  John  Woodall,  The  Surgeon's  Mate,  folio,  London,  1639;  Van  Helmont, 
Tumulus  Pestis,  8vo,  Cologne,  1644,  Ac;  [Muratori,  Trattato  del  Goremo  delta 
Peste,  Modena,  1714];  John  Howard,  An  Account  of  Lazarettoes  in  Europe,  <tc., 
4to,  London,  1789  ;  Patrick  Russell,  A  Treatise  of  the  Plague,  4to,  London,  1791  ; 
Thomaa  Hancock,  Researches  into  the  LaufS  of  Pestilence,  8vo,  London,  1821  ; 
[Foder^,  Lemons  sur  tes  Epidemies,  &c.,  4  vols.  8vo,  Paris,  1822-24] ;  [Se'gur 
DupevTon,  Recherches  Historiques,  ttc,  sur  la  Peste,  1837] ;  Bulard,  La  Peste 
Orientate,  8vo,  Paris,  1839;  Griesinger,  Die  Infectionskrankheiten,  2d  ed.,  8vo, 
Erlangen,  1864.  (J.  F.  P.) 

PLAICE  (Pleuronectes  platessa),  a  species  of  Flat-fish, 
common  on  the  coasts  of  northern  Europe  from  Iceland 
to  the  Bay  of  Biscay.  It  is  readily  recognized  by  the 
yellow  or  orange-coloured  spots  which  are  placed  in  a  row 
along  the  dorsal  and  anal  fins,  and  scattered  over  the  body. 
The  eyes  are  on  the  right  side,  and  the  teeth  in  the  jawa 
compressed  and  truncate.  The  scales  are  minute  and 
smooth.  In  the  dorsal  fin  from  sixty-seven  to  seventy- 
seven  rays  may  be  counted,  in  the  anal  from  fifty  to  fifty- 
seven.  Plaice,  like  other  flat-fishes,  prefer  a  sandy  flat 
bottom  to  a  rocky  ground,  and  occur  in  suitable  localities 
in  great  abundance ;  and,  as  they  belong  to  the  better  class 
of  fishes  for  the  table,  immense  quantities  are  brought  to 
the  market.  They  spawn  early  in  spring,  and  are  in  finest 
condition  in  the  month  of  May.  Individuals  of  seven  or 
eight  pounds  weight  are  considered  fish  of.  large  size,  but 
specimens  of  double  that  weight  have  been  caught.  Plaice 
grow  quickly  and  are  tenacious  of  life ;  and,  as  they  thrive 
in  brackish  water,  their  culture  in  littoral  back-waters 
would  seem  to  be  deserving  of  every  attention. 

PLAINFIELD,  a  city  of  the  United  States,  in  Union 
county,  New  Jersey,  lies  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Orange,  and 
on  the  left  side  of  the  Green  Brook,  a  tributary  of  the 
Earitan.  It  may  to  some  extent  ,be  regarded  as  a  residen- 
tial suburb  of  New  York,  from  which  it  is  distant  24  miles 
by  the  Central  Kailroad.  The  local  manufactures — hats 
and  clothing — are  comparatively  tr jfling.  Laid  out  in.  1 7  35 
and  made  a  city  in  1869,  Plainfield  had  5095  inhabitants 
in  1870  and  8125  in  1880.  A  railroad  consisting  of 
narrow  iron  bands  nailed  down  to  wooden  logs-was  con- 
structed between  Plainfield  and  Elizabeth  as  early  as  1838. 
Two  miles  to  the  south-west  is  Washington's  Rock,  a 
coign  of  vantage  from  which  the  general  used  to  watch 
the  British  movements, 

PLAIN  SONG,  or  Plain  Chant  {Gregorian  Music; 
Lat.  Cant-US  planus ;  Ital.  Canto  Gregoriano ;  Fr.  Plain, 
Chant),  a  style  of  music,  easily  recognizable  by  certain 
strongly-marked  characteristics,  some  very  ancient  frag- 
ments of  v.hich  are  believed  to  have  been  in  use  under  the 
Jewish  dispensation  from  a  remote  period,  and  to  have 
been  thence  transferred  _  to  the  ritual  of  the  Christiaa 
church. 

The  theories  advanced  as  to  the  origin  of  this  solemn 
form  of  ecclesiastical  music  are  innumerable.  The  most 
widely-spread  opinion  is  that  the  older  portion  of  it 
originated  with  the  Psalms  themselves,  or  at  least  sprang 
from  the  later  synagogue  music.  Another  theory  traces 
the  origin  of  plain  song  to  the  early  Greeks ;  and  the 
supporters  of  this  view  lay  much  stress  on  the  fact  that 
the  scales  in  which  its  melodies  are  composed  are  named 
after  the  old  Greek  "modes."     But,  beyond  the  name, 

Chinese  Customs,  special  oeries  No.  2,  for  half-year  ended  3l3t  March  1878,  16th 
issue,  Shanghai ;  Lowry,  "  Notes  on  Epidemic  Disease  at  Pakhoi,"  1S82,  ibid.i 
24th  issue,  p.  31. 
'  Those  in  sqoare  brackets  [  ]  have  not  been  seen  bj  the  writer. 


PLAIN      SONG^ 


1G9 


no  connexion  whatever  exists  between  the  two  tonalities, 
which  bear  not  the  remotest  resemblance  to  each  other. 
Less  reasonable  hypotheses  attribute  the  origin  of  plain 
song  to  the  Phoenicians,  to  the  Egyptians,  to  the  early 
Christian  converts,  and  to  the  musicians  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  These  divergent  views,  however,  though  entirely 
hypothetical,  arc  defended  by  arguments  so  voluminous 
that  for  the  elucidation  of  the  subject  we  must  con- 
tent ourselves  with  referring  the  reader  to  the  works  of 
Gerbert,  P.  Martini,  P.  Kircher,  Mersennus,  P.  Lambil- 
lotte,  the  Abb^  Raillard,  Coussemak«r,  Kiesewetter,  Jakob, 
Ambros,  and  other  authors,  who  have  treated  it  at  great 
length. 

The  earliest  important  fact  upon  which  we  can  rest  with 
absolute  confidence  is  that  towards  the  close  of  the  4th 
century  Ambrose  of  Milan,  fearing  the  loss  or  corruption 
of  the  venerable  melodies  which  up  to  that  time  had 
been- preserved  to  the  church  by  means  of  oral  tradition 
only,  endeavoured  to  restore  them  as  nearly  as  possible  to 
their  primitive  purity,  and  at  the  same  time  to  teach  the 
clergy  to  sing  them  with  greater  precision  than  had  pre- 
viously been  attempted.  A  still  more  extensive  work  of 
the  same  nature  was  undertaken,  two  centuries  later,  by 
Pope  Gregory  the  Great.  And  thus  arose  two  sghools  of 
ecclesiastical  music,  still  known  as  the  "  Ambrosian  "  and 
the  "Gregorian  chant," — the  first  of  which  is  now  practised 
only  in  the  diocese  of  Milan,  while  the  latter  is  universally 
accepted  as  the  authorized  "Roman  use."  In  order  to 
explain  the  essential  differences  existing  between  these  two 
schools,  we  must  here  describe  in  detail  some  of  the 
peculiar  characteristics  of  plain  song  to  which  allusion  has 
been  made. 

The  melodies  which  collectively  form  the  repertoire  of 
plain  chant  are  not  written  in  modern  major  and  minor 
scales,  but  in  ctrtain  tonalities  bearing  names  analogous  to 
those  of  the  early  Greek  "  modes,"  though  constructed  on 
very  different  principles.  Of  these  "modes,"  fourteen 
exist  in  theory,  though  twelve  only  are  in  practical  use. 
The  intervals  of  each  "mode"  are  derived  from  a  funda- 
mental sound,  called  its  "  final."  i  The  compass  of  each 
mode  comprises  eight  sounds, — that  of  the  first,  third, 
fifth,  seventh,  ninth,  eleventh,  and  thirteenth  "modes," 
extending  to  the  octave  above  the  "final,"  and  that  of  the 
second,  fourth,  sixth,  eighth,  tenth,  twelfth,  and  fourteenth, 
extending  from  the  fourth  note  below  the  final  to  the  fifth 
note  above  it.  Consequently,  the  "  finals "  of  the  first 
series,  called  the  "authentic  modes,"  occupy  the  lowest 
place  in  each  system  of  sounds,  and  those  of  the  second 
series,  called  the  "  plagal  modes,"  the  middle  place, — the 
same  "final"  being  common  to  one  "authentic"  and  one 
"plagal  mode."  The  following  table  exhibits  the  entire 
system,  expressed  in  the  alphabetical  notation  peculiar  to 
modern ■  English  music, — the  "final"  being  indicated  in 
each  case  by  an  asterisk,  and  the  position  of  the  semitones, 
from  which  each  mode  derives  its  distinctive  character,  by 
brackets. 

Plagal  Modes, 

2.  Hypodorlan,  A,  bTc,  'D,  eTf,  G,  A. 

4.  Hypopliryglan,  bTc.  D,  '^,0,  A,  B. 

6.  Hypolydlan,  C,  D,  E/F,  G,  A,  bT^. 

8.  Hypomlxolydlon.D.KiF.'O.A.BiS.D. 
10.  HypoKollan,  E,  K,  0,  'A,  liTc,  D,  E. 
IS.  Uupolmian,  F,0,A,  'B^,  D,  £,"?. 
14.  Hypolonlan,  G,  A,  B/C,  D,  e7?,  O. 


Autftentie  ifodel. 

1.  Ddrian.'D,  O.  O,  A,  CS,  D. 

3.  Phryglnn,  •eTf,  G,  A,  B,  C,  D,  E. 

S.  Lydlan,  T,  0,  A,  bTc,  D,  eTf. 

7.  Mliolydlan,  "0,  A,  B,  C,  D,  O,  O. 

9.  iEollan,  'A,  Cc,  D,  eTf,  G,  A. 
IL  Locrian,  'B,  C,  D,  E,  f,  0,A,B 
13.  Ionian,  'C,  D,  E,  F,  G,  A,  0^. 


Nos.  11  and  12  In  this  series  aro  rejected,  for  technical  reasons  Into  which  w<k 
iva  not  space  to  enter;   tliey  aio  practically  useless  * 


haro  I 


Of  these  modes  Ambrose  used  four  only — the  first  four 

'  Analogous  to  the  tonic  or  key-note  of  the  modem  scale. 
'  For  fuller  information  on   the  subject  see  the  article  "  Modes, 
lJi»  Kccleaiastical,"  in  Sir  O.  Grove's  Dictionary  of  Muiic. 


"  authentic  modes,"  now  numbered  1,  3,  5,  and  7.  Gregory 
acknowledged,  and  is  said  by  some  historians  of  credit  to 
have  invented,  the  first  four  "plagal  modes," — Nos  2,  4, 
6,  and  8.  The  use  of  the  remaining  "  modes,"  except  per- 
haps the  ninth,  was  not  formally  authorized  until  the  reign 
of  Charlemagne,  who  published  an  official  decision  upon 
the  subject.  In  one  or  other  of  the  twelve  "modes" 
recognized  by  this  decision,  every  plain-chant  melody  is 
composed.  The  number  of  such  melodies  preserved  to  us 
the  genuineness  of  which  is  undoubted  is  immensely  large; 
and  the  collection  is  divided  into  several  distinct  classes, 
the  most  important  of  which  are  the  melodies  proper  to 
the  Psalm-Tones  and  Antiphons  ;  the  Ordinarium  Misses ; 
the  Introtts,  Graduals,  and  Offertoria;  the  Prsfationes, 
Versiculi,  and  Bespotisoria;  the  Hymns  and  Sequences  ;'  and 
the  Lamentationes,  Exultet,  and  other  music  used  in  Holy 
Week. 

Of  these  classes  the  <inost  interesting  by  far  is  that 
which  includes  the  psalm-tones,  or  psalm-tunes,  called  by 
modern  English  historians,  the  "  Gregorian  tones."  The 
oldest  of  these  are  tones  1,  3,  5,  and  7,  as  sung  by 
Ambrose.  The  antiquity  of  tones  2,  4,  6,  and  8  is 
less  firmly  established,  though  there  is  no  ddubt  that 
Gregory  the  Great  sanctioned  their  use  on  strong  tradi- 
tional evidence.  In  addition  to  these,  a  peculiarly  beauti- 
ful melody  in  mode  9,  known  as  the  Tonus  pefegrinus, 
has  been  sung  from  time  immemorial  only  to  the  psalm 
In  exitu  Israel.  The  oldest  version  of  this  melody  now 
extant  is  undoubtedly  to  a,  certain  extent  impure;  but 
tradition  imputes  to  it  a  very  high  antiquity,  and  even  our 
doubts  as  to  the  authenticity  of  the  now  generally  accepted 
reading  extend  only  to  one  single  note.  A  widely-accepted 
tradition  points  out  this  melody  as  the  tune  sung  to  In 
.  exitu  Israel,  as  part  of  the  Great  Hallel  (see  Psalms), 
which  is  generally  (but  hardly  rightly)  identified  with  the 
hymn' sung  by  our  Lord  and  His  apostles  immediately  after 
the  institution  of  the  Last  Sujiper. 

One  very  powerful  argument  in  favour  of  the  Jewish 
origin  of  the  psalra-tones  lies  in  the  peculiarity  of  their 
construction.  We  aro  not  aware  that  this  argument  has 
ever  been  previously  brought  forward ;  but  it  is  im- 
possible to  subject  the  venerable  melodies  to  minute 
e.xamination  without  observing  their  perfect  adaptation  to 
the  laws  of  Hebrew  poetry,  as  opposed  to  those  which 
governed  Greek  and  Latin  verse.  The  division  of  the 
tune  in  every  case,  without  exception,  into  two  distinct 
strains,  exactly  balancing  each  other,  points  assuredly  to 
the  intention  of  singing  it  to  the  two  contrasted  phrases 
which,  inseparable  from  the  constitution  of  a  Hebrew 
verse,  find  no  place  in  any  later  form  of  poetry.  And  it  is 
very  remarkable  that  this  constructional  peculiarity  was 
never  imitated,  cither  in  the  earliest  hymns  or  antiphons 
we  possess  or  in  those  of  the  Middle  Ages, — evidently 
because  it  was  found  impossible  to  adapt  it  to  any  medi- 
aaval  form  of  verso — even  to  the  Te  Deum,  which,  though 
a  manifest  reproduction  of  the  Hebrew  psalm,  was  adapted 
by  Ambrose  to  a  melody  of  very  different  formation,  and 
naturally  so  since  so  many  of  its  phrases  consist  of  a  single 
clause  only,  balanced  in  the  following  verse  This  peculi- 
arity now  passes  for  the  most  part  unnoticed ;  and  the  Te 
Deum  is  constantly  sung  to  a  psalni-fono,  very  much  to  the 
detriment  of  both.  But  in  the  Middle  Ages  this  abuse 
was  unknown  ;  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that,  until  the 
"School  of  the  Ilestoration "  gave  birth,  in  England,  to 
the  single  chant,  avowedly  built  \x\\<.m  fho  lines  of  ita 
Gregorian  predecessor,  and  a  sonicwlint  later  period  to  the 
double  one,  so  constructed  as  to  weld  two  verses  of  the 
psalm  into  one,  often  with  uttnr  disregard  to  the  sense  of 
the  words,  tho  venerable  psalra-tones  stood  quite  alone — 
the  only  melodies  in  oxistcnco  to  which  the  psalms  (uuld 


170 


P  L  A  — P  L  A 


be  chanted.  And  so  intimate  is  tlie  adaptation  of  these 
plain-chant  melodies  to  the  rhythm  as  well  as  to  the  sense 
of  the  sacred  text,  even  after  its  translation  into  more 
modern  languages,  so  strongly  do  they  swing  with  the  one 
and  emphasize  the  other,  that  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that 
the  composition  of  the  music  was  not  coeval  with  that  of 
the  poetry. 

Next  in  antiquity  to  the  psalm-tones  are  the  melodies 
adapted  to  the  antiphons,  the  offertoria,  the  graduals,  and 
the  introits,  sung  at  high  mass.  Those  proper  to  the 
Ordinarktm  Missx  are  probably  of  later  date.  Those 
belonging  to  hymns  and  sequences  are  of  all  ages.  Among 
the  latest  we  possess — perhaps  the  very  latest  of  any  great 
importance- — is  that  of  Laiida  Sion, — a  very  fine  one,  in 
modes  7  and  8,  adapted  to  the  celebrated  sequence  written 
by  Thomas  Aquinas  about  1261. 

To  the  melodies  adapted  to  the  Lamentationcs  and  the 
Exultet,  as  sung  in  the  Church  (3f  Kome  during  Holy 
Week,  it  is  absolutely  impossible  to  assign  any  date  at  all. 
All  we  know  is  that  they  are  of  extreme  antiquity,  and 
beautiful  beyond  all  description.  The  melody  of  Exultet 
is,  indeed,  very  frequently  cited  as  the  finest  example  of 
plain  song  in  existence. 

To  assert  that  melodies  so  old  as  these  have  "been 
handed  down  to  us  in  their  original  purity  would  be 
absurd.  But  the  presence  of  corruption  rarely  passes 
undetected  by  the  initiated;  and  vigorous  efforts  have 
been  made  from  time  to  time  to  purify  the  received  text 
by  reference  to  the  oldest  and  most  trustworthy  MSS. 
attainable.  Such  an  effort  was  made  on  a  very  extensive 
scale  by  the  "  Congregation  of  Eites,"  at  the  instigation 
of  Pope  Pius  IX.,  in  the  year  1868 ;  and  the  labours  of 
that  learned  body,  still  in  active  progress,  are  doing  all 
that  can  now  be  done  towards  the  restoration  of  plain 
chant  to  the  highest  state  of  purity  possible  in  the  present 
stage  of  its  existence.  (vv.  s.  e.) 

PLANARIANS.  The  name  Flanaria  was  first  applied 
byO.  F.  Miiller  in  his  Prodromus  Zoologix  Daniae  (1776) 
to  a  group  of  worms,  inhabitants  of  fresh  and  salt  water, 
characterized,  so  far  as  was  then  known,  by  a  flattened 
leaf -like  form.  Ehrenberg  in  1831  changed  this  name  to 
Turbellaiia  on  account  of  the  cilia  with  which  the  body  is 
furnished,  ■  by  means  of  which  the  worms  create  a  whirl- 
pool in  the  surrounding  water.  The  extent  of  this  group 
was  subsequently  more  restricted,  and  at  present  the  name 
TurbeUaria  is  applied  to.  all  those  (mainly  free-swimming) 
Platyhelrainths  whose  .body  is  clothed  externally  with  a 
ciliated  epidermis  (fig.  9),  and  which  possess  a  mouth 
and  (with  the  exception  of  one  division)  an  alimentary 
canal,  but  are  without  an  anus.  The  Turbellarians,  exclud- 
ing the  Nemeetines  {q.v.),  which  until  recently  were  classed 
with  them,  form  an  order  of  the  class  PlatyMminthes, 
and  the  old  name  Flanaria  is  now  confined  to  a  group  of 
the  fresh-water  representatives  of  this  order. 

Size  and  External  Characters.  —  Many  forms  of  the 
Turbellarians  are  so  minute  as  to  be  hardly  visible  with 
the  naked  eye,  while  others  attain  to  a  length  of  several 
inches,  and  a  land  Planarian  of  no  less  than  9  inches  in 
length  has  been  described  by  Moseley.  The  freshwater 
forms  are  generally  small,  the  largest  representatives 
of  the  order  being  marine  or  terrestrial.  The  smaller 
species  are  mostly  cylindrical,  or  convex  dorsally  and 
flat  ventrally ;  the  anterior  extremity  is  commonly  trun- 
cated and  the  posterior  extremity  pointed  (fig.  1,  a,  b). 
The^  larger  aquatic  forms  are  thinner  in  proportion  to 
the  increasing  surface  of  the  body,  so  that  they  come  to 
resemble  thin  leaf-like  lamellaj  (d),  while  the  large  land 
Planarians  instead  of  increasing  in  superficies  grow  in 
length  (e  and  /),  so  that  they  may  be  best  compared  to 
leeches.*-  The  larger  ac^uatic  forms  are  frequently  provided 


Fig.  I. — o,  Cojjvoluta  paradoxa,  Oc;  6,  Tor- 
ter  viridts,  jr.  Sch.;  c,  Monotus  fuiCUi, 
Off.  ;  d,  Tliysanozoon  brofhii,  Gr.,  with 
elevated  anterior  extremity  (after  Joh. 
Sclimi(lt);  e,  Rhynchodaius  tcrrestni,0. 
F.  Miiller  (after  Kennel) ;  /,  Bipatium 
ceres,  Mo«.  (after  Jloselcy);  g,  fohjcelif 
comuta,  0.  Sell.,  attached  by  the  pharynx 
[ph)  to  a  dtad  worm  (after  Jubnson).  AH 
tiie  lignres  of  natural  ftize,  and  viewed 
from  the  dorsal  surface. 


with  tentacles  in  the  shape  of  paired  finger-like  processes 
or  ear-like  folds  of  the  anterior  part  of  the  body  {d  and 
g) ;  sometimes  the  tentacles  are  papillary  outgrowths  of 
the  dorsal  surface;  the 
land  Planarians  are  often 
to  be  distinguished  by  a 
crescent-shaped  area  at 
the  fore  end  of ,  the  body, 
which  is,;;separated  off 
from  the',  rest ,  (/).  In 
many  cases  the  whole  dor 
sal  surface  is  beset  with 
papillae  {d).  The  aper- 
ture of  the  mouth  varies 
greatly  in  its  position ; 
sometimes  it  is  situate(i 
at  the  anterior  extremity, 
sometimes  in  the  middle  of 
the  ventral  surface  of  the 
body,  occasionally  quite 
close  to  the  posterior  ex- 
tremity; the  single  com- 
mon or  distinct  male  and 
female  generative  aper- 
tures are  also  situated 
upon  the  ventral  surface  of 
the  body,  and  the  former 
in  rare  cases  open  in  com- 
mon with  the  mouth  ;  the 
genital  apertures  always 
lie  behind  the  mouth. 
Many  Turbellarians  have 
a  sucker  which  serves  to 
attach  the  animal  to  sur- 
rounding objects,  or  to  another  individual  during  copulation. 
Integument. — The  integument  is  composed  of  a  single 
layer  of  ciliated  epithelium ;  between  the  cilia  there  are 
often  long  flagella  and  stiff  tactile  hairs  and  even  (in  a 
single  instance)  chitinous  spines ;  these  latter  must  be 
regarded  as  local  thickenings  of  the  firm  cuticle  which 
covers  the  epidermic  cells.  The  epidermic  cells  are  flat  or 
columnar,  and  are  united  to  each  other  by  smooth  opposed 
margins  or  by  denticulate  processes  which  fit  into  similar 
processes  in  the  adjacent  cells  (fig.  2).  Sometimes  the 
epidermic  cells  are  separated  by  an  interstitial  nucleated 
tissue.  The  structure  and  functions  of  the  cells  of  the 
epidermis  differ,  and  four  varieties  are  to  be  found  : — (a) 
indifferent  ciliated  cells;  {b)  cells  containing  certain  definite 
structures  (rhabdites,  nematocysts) ;  (c)  gland  cells;  and  {d) 
glutinous  cells  (Ivlcbzellen).  The  rhabdites  are  refracting 
homogeneous  rod-like  bodies,  of  a  firm  consistency,  which 
are  met  with  in  most  TurbeUaria,  and  often  fill  all  the 
cells  of  the  epidermis ;  they  are  not  always  foimd  entirely 
within  the  cells,  but  the  extremity  often  projects  freely 
on  to  the  exterior  of  the  body.  They  are  readily  extruded 
from  the  cells  by  pressure,  and  are  often  found  in  great 
abundance  in  the  mucus  secreted  by  the  glandular  cells 
(many  Tui'bellarians,  like  snails,  deposit  threads  of  mucus 
along  their  track)  ;  in  this  case  the  epidermic  cells  become 
perforated  like  a  sieve.  In  many  Turbellarians  the  rhabdites 
are  chiefly  massed  in  the  anterior  part  of  the  body ;  fre- 
quently there  are  several  varieties  of  rhabdites  in  one  and 
the  same  species, — some  being  pointed  at  both  ends,  others 
cylindrical  with  truncated  extremities.  These  structures 
are  either  formed  directly  in  the  ordinary  epidermis  cells 
as  a  kind  of  secreted  product  of  the  cell,  or  in  special 
formative  cells  which  lie  beneath  the  integument  and  are 
connected  with  the  epidermis  cells  by  protoplasmic  fila- 
ments, by  means  of  which  the  rhabdites  reach  the  surface 
of  the  body.  _  These  cells  must  be  regarded  as  epidermic 


PLANARIANS 


171 


c.flls  which  have  become  disconnected  with  the  epidermis 
iiself,  and  wandered  into  the  subjacent  parenchyma.  The 
fmction  of  the  ihabdites  seems  to  be  to  support  the 
Iftctile  sense.  In  rare  instances  nematocysts  are  present 
which  in  structure  and  developmeut  entirely  resemble 
those  of  the  Calmtera  (see  vol.  xii.  p.  550).  Very  com- 
monly structures  known  as  pseudo-rhabdites  are  present; 
these  have  a  rod-like  form,  but  instead  of  being  homo- 
geneous are  finely  granular ;  they  are  an  intermediate  step 
between  the  rhabdites  proper  and  a  granulated  secretion 
occasionally  thrown  off  by  the  gland  cells.  The  unicellu- 
lar glands  are  either  situated  among  tlie  epidermic  cells  or 
in  the  parenchyma,  in  which  case  they  are  connected  with 
the  exterior  only  by  tlie  excretory  duct.  A  peculiar  modi- 
fication of-  the  epidermic  cells  are  the  so-called  "glutinous 
colls,"  which  occur  on  the  ventral  surface  or  at  the  hinder 
end  of  the  body  of  many  TurbelJarians,  and  compensate 
for  the  suckers ;  the  surface  of  these  cells  is  furnished 
with  numerous  minute  processes  by  means  of  which  and  a 
sticky  secretion  the  animals  can  attach  themselves  to  sur- 
rounding objects.  Sometinies  the  epidermic  cells  contain 
calcareous  concretions,  and  very  commonly  pigment  is 
found  either  in  the  cells  themselves  or  within  the  inter- 
stitial tissue.  Thd  colours  of  Turbellarians  are,  however, 
not  always  due  to  the  pigment  of  the  epidermis  but  to 
pigment  contained  in  the  parenchyma.  Beneath  the 
epidermis  is  a  basement  membrane  (fig.  2,  bm)  which  is  in 

St. 


rjT-^fe^^Srnr-:^':.-.^,  ^"'■ 


2  .'i. 


—sC: 


Iv, 


r»o.  J.— Integument  of  Uescstoma  lingua,  O,  Sch.  On  tho  viElit  Imnd  Is  tlic 
epidermis  (t)  with  iJLMtoralions  (/)  tliioui;li  which  thu  rhab'llica  (.'()  P'OJeC' 
BL'llCiah  tilts  the  basement  iiit;mbi'ane(6/7J),  and  hc-neath  this  ut'Uln  ttiemuscului' 
liiycrs  consisting  ot  circului-  inn),  dlagoiiul  (sm),  uud  longitudinal  (//ji)  fit)ras, 

some'  cases  very  delicate  and  structureless,  and  in  other 
cases  much  thicker  and  enclosing  branched  cells ;  this 
membrane  is  attached  more  firmly  to  the  subjacent  tissue 
than  to  the  epidermis.  tSince  this  tissue  is  the  strongest  in 
tho  body,  and  serves  as  a  surface  of  attachment  for  the 
muscles,  it  has  been  termed  by  Lang  a  skeletal  membrane. 
The  third  section  of  the  integument  is  formed  by  the 
muscular  layers.  These  form  a  continuous  covering  to 
the  rest  of  the  body,  but  their  arrangement  and  thickness 
are  very  different  in  different  forms.  In  the  smaller  species 
{Rhiihdocrtiid't)  there  are  two  layers,  an  outer  circular  and 
an  inner  longitudinal,  only  in  a  few  cases  the  circular  layer 
is  external  to  the  longitudinal ;  sometimes  there  are  three 
distinct  layers,  as  in  fig  2,  where  a  diagonal  layer  is  inter- 
posed. The  larger  forms  {Dendrocoelida)  have  a  much 
more  complicated  muscular  system  :  in  the  most  diftcrcn- 
tiatcd  forms  there  are  six  separate  layers  (two  circular, 
two  diagonal,  and  two  longitudinal),  which  are,  however, 
always  less  developed  upon  the  dorsal  than  upon  tho 
ventral  surface  in  that  the  thickest  layer  of  the  ventral 
surface  (the  innermost  longitudinal)  is  absent  or  very 
feebly   developed    upon    the   dorsal    side.     Besides    the 


integumentary  muscular  system,  there  are  also  found  dorso- 
vcntral  muscular  bands  which  traverse  the  whole  body 
from  the  dorsal  to  the  ventral  basement  membrane,  being 
branched  at  both  extremities,  and  the  special  muscles  of 
the  pharynx,  genital  organs,  and  suckers. 

The  perivisceral  cavity,  bounded  by  the  integument  and 
traversed  by  the  dorso-ventral  muscles,  contains  the 
organs  of  the  body — alimentary  canal,  excretory  system, 
nervous  system,  and  genital  glands.  The  space  left 
between  these  organs  is  filled  with  parenchyma  ;  the  latter 
varies  much  in  appearance  and  is  very  difficult  to  study. 
Generally  it  consists  of  a  network  of  fibres  and  trabecute, 
which  contain  nuclei,  and  between  which  is  a  system  of 
cavities  filled  during  life  with  the  perivisceral  fluid.  These 
cavities  are  generally'  but  few  in  number  and  vary  with 
the  stronger  or  feebler  development  of  the  reticulum; 
they  occasionally  contain  free  coUs. 

AlimentaTy  Canal. — All  Turbellarians  are  furnished 
with  a  mouth,  which,  as  there  is  no  anus,  serves  both 
to  take  in  nutriment  and  expel  the  undigested  remains 
of  food.  The  alimentary  canal  consists  of  a  muscular 
pharynx  and  an  intestine.  The  pharynx  (figs  3,  5  to  8,  ph) 
is  cylindrical  in  form,  rather  complicated  in  structure,  and 
surrounded  by  a  muscular  sheath,  which  opens  on  to  the 
exterior  by  the  mouth  {m).  Often  the  pharynx  consists 
merely  of  a  circular  fold  lying  within  the  pharyngeal 
pouch  (fig.  8) ;  it  can  be  protruded  through  the  mouth 
and  acts  like  a  sucker,  so  that  the  animal  can  fasten  it-self 
upon  its  prey  and  draw  it  into  the  intestine  by  suction. 
At  the  junction  of  tho  pharynx  with  the  intestine  open  the 
salivary  glands,  which  are  frequently  large  and  well 
developed  (fig.  5,  s).  The  intestine  (i)  has  a  very 
characteristic  form  in  the  different  sections,  and  has  long 
served  to  divide  the  Turbellaria  into  two  groups: — (1) 
Rhabdocoelida,  with  a  straight  unbranched  intestine  (figs.  5, 
6),  and  (2)  Dendrocoslula,  with  a  branched  intestine  (figs.  7, 
8).  In  tho  latter  group  Lang  has  recently  called  attention 
to  further  differences  that  exist  in  the  form  of  the  intestine  : 
in  the  Tridadlda  (fig.  7)  there  is  no  central  "stomach," 
but  three  eijualiy-sized  intestinal  branches  (which  have 
secondary  ramifications)  unite  together  to  open  into  the 
pharynx;  in  the  second  group,  the  I'dydadida  (fig.  8), 
there  is  a  median  stomach  (*?),  from  which  numerous 
intestinal  branches  arise ;  this  stomach  coramunicates 
directly  with  the  pharynx ;  the  branches  of  the  intestine 
are  much  ramified  and  often  form  an  anastomosing  net- 
work. The  epithelium  of  the  intestine  is  a  single  layer  of 
cells  generally  not  ciliated,  capable  of  protniding  aniaboid 
processes  by  which  tho  food  is  absorbed  ;  tho  digestion  of 
these  animals  is  intracellular.  Sometimes  a  muscular 
coat  surrounds  the  intestine,  the  lumen  of  which  is  Uius 
capable  of  being  totally  or  partially  contracted.  To  the 
above-mentioned  divisions  of  the  group,  distinguished 
from  each  other  by  the  varying  form  of  the  alimentary 
tract,  another  has  been  added,  viz.,  the  Aca/a  (Ulianin), 
which  are  characterized  by  the  entire  absence  of  any 
intestine.  In  these  forms  (fig.  4)  the  mouth  loads  directly 
into  the  parenchyma  of  tlio  body  l)y  a  short  tube  which  is 
merely  an  invagination  of  tho  integument ;  tho  paren- 
chyma is  a  syncytium,-  consisting  of  a  soft  protoplasmic 
mass  with  scattered  nuclei,  which  represents  tho  elements 
of  tho  intestine  and  tho  boily  parenchyma  (ento-  and 
mesoderm)  completely  fused  and  without  anj^  traces  of 
differentiation.  This  fact,  as  well  as  tho  disajipcaranco  of 
a  nervous  and  excretory  system,  reduces  tho  Aca'hi  to  the 
lowest  position  not  only  among  the  Turbellaria,  but  among 
the  whole  group  of  the  Vermes. 

Excretory  Sy.item. — Tho  excretory  system  of  the  Turbel- 
larians is  quite  similar  to  that  of  tho  Trematodes  and 
Cestoids;  it  consists  of  (I)  thn  mnin  trunks  with   :h«it 


172 


PLANAEIANS 


on  to  the  exteriov  through 
the  mouth,  ph^  pharynx. 


external  aperture,  (2)  the  secondary  branches  of  these,  and 
(3)  the  excretory  cells  with  the  fine  tubules  leading  from 
them.  Rarely  is  there  but  a  single  main  excretory  trunk 
present  opening  at  the  hinder  end  of  the  body  (Steno- 
sioma);  generally  there  are  a  pair  of  such  trunks  which 
open  in  common  at  the  hinder  end  of  the  body,  or 
separately  (most  Bhabdocoela),  or  by  the  mouth  (fig.  3). 
In  the  Tridadida  there  are  two  or 
four  lateral  trunks  present  which 
open  by  a  number  of  pores  arranged 
in  pairs  upon  the  dorsal  surface  of 
the  body ;  the  same  appears  to  be 
the  case  in  the  Polydadida.  The 
main  trunks  of  the  excretory  sys- 
tem are  generally  much  twisted  in 
their  course,  and  anastomose  with 
each  other ;  they  receive  the  fine 
tubules  either  directly  or,  as  in  the 
Rhahdococla,  there  is  a  network  of 
secondary  tubules  interposed.  The 
excretory  cells  are  pear-shaped ; 
they  are  branched  and  furnished 
with  a  nucleus  and  a  large  vacuole 
which  is  directly  continuous  with 
the  lumen  of  the  tubule ;  from  the 
boundary  wall  of  the  vacuole  springs 
a  single  flagellum,  which  depends 
into  the  lumen  of  the  tubule  and  is 
capable  of  active  movement.  Lang 
discovered  in  a  marine  form  of  the 
Tridadida  (Gnnda)  similar  vacuo-  Fio.  3.— Main  trunks  of  the  ex- 

,.,        11       ^.,1  '.       1       f,         1,  cietory  system  of  i/«50s/oma 

lated  cells  with   a   single   flagellum      eUrmbergU,    O.    Sch.     Open 

among  the  epithelial  cells  of  the 
intestine,  and  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  excretory  cells  were  on  that  account  derived 
from  the  epithelium  of  the  intestine.  The  movements  of 
the  excretory  fluid  towards  the  external  pore  are  directed 
by  this  flagellum  as  well  as  by  cilia  developed  upon  the 
walls  of  the  fine  tubules ;  the  motion  of  aU  these  cilia  is 
such  as  to  drive  the  contents  of  the  tubules  towards  the 
excretory  pore.  The  main  trunks  of  the  excretory  system 
are  either  sparsely  (Tridadida  according  to  Jijima)  or  com- 
pletely (Polydadida  according  to  Lang)  lined  with  cilia. 

Nervous  System. — The  central  organ  of  the  nervous 
system,  the  brain  (en),  is  a  double  ganglion  at  the  anterior 
end  of  the  body,  and  has  been  noticed  in  all  the  known 
forms  with  the  exception  of  the  Acoela.  It  is  situated  in 
front  of  or  above  the  pharynx ;  in  those  species  in  which 
a  process  of  the  intestine  extends  beyond  the  region  of  the 
brain  (cf.  figs.  7  and  8  viewed  from  the  ventral  surface)  it  is 
placed  below  this.  In  such  cases  there  is  sometimes  a  com- 
missure encircling  the  prolongations  of  the  intestine.  Each 
of  the  two  ganglia  gives  off  a  strong  longitudinal  nerve 
cord  (figs.  5-8,  In)  from  which  arise  branches  going  to  the 
various  organs  of  the  body.  The  structure  of  the  nervous 
system  is  somewhat  diSerent  in  the  Rhahdocala,  Trida- 
dida, uni  Polydadida.  In  the  first  group  (figs.  5,  6)  the 
two  longitudinal  cords  and  their  branches  are  the  most 
feebly  developed,  and  there  is  but  rarely  (Mesostoma, 
Monotus)  a  transverse  commissure  uniting  the  longitudinal 
cords.  These  cords  are  very  large  in  the  Tridadida, 
where  the  brain  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  simple  thickening  of 
them  ;  in  this  group  there  are  numerous  transverse  com- 
missures between  the  longitudinal  nerve  cords  (fig.  7),  and 
the  nerves  arising  from  them  and  passing  to  the  periphery 
form  a  subcutaneous  nerve  plexus  within  the  muscular 
eoat.  Lang  has  observed  a  similar  nerve  plexus  in  the 
Polydadida,  the  central  nervous  system  of  which  differs 
from  that  of  the  Tridadida  in  that  a  number  of  stout 
nerve  cor.ls  radiate  outwards  from  the  brain  as  well  as  the 


two  longitudinal  cords;  they  are  all  united  together  by 
-m 


-ir 


Fig.  4.  Fig.  5. 

Fio.  4. — Plan  of  an  Accelons  Turbella^Ian.  e,  eye;  m,  mouth  ;  ot,  otolith;  o», 
ovary  ;  p,  digesting  parenchyma  ;  (,  testicular  follicles ;  vs,  vesicula  semioalis 
J ,  male  organ  of  copulation  ;  ^  9  .  common  sexual  aperture. 

Fio.  5. — Plan  of  a  Rhahdoccelous  Turbellaiian.  be.  bursa  copulatrix  ;  m,  brain ; 
e,  eye ;  g.  gennarium ;  i.  intestine ;  In,  longitudinal  ner\'e  tnink ;  m,  mouth  ; 
ph,  pharynx;  r5,  receptaculum  semlnis;  $,  sallvai-y  gland;  f,  testis;  u,  nteruB 
(containing  an  egg);  v,  yelk  gland;  vs,  vesicula  scnilnalis ;  Z,  chltlnons 
copnlatoiy  organ;    3  9  t  common  sexual  aperture;  be,  bui^a  copulatrix. 

numerous   commissures,  and   a   network  is   thus  formed 
which  extends  throughout  the  body. 


Fig.  6.  Fig.  ■>((.■% 

Fio.  6.— Plan  of  an  AUolocoelons  Turbcllarian.    Lettering  as  In  fi^6. 

Fio.  7. — Plan  of  aTrlcladid.     i,,  anterior,  and  u,  i^,  paired  posterior  branches  ot 

intestine;  od,  oviduct;  te,  tentacle;  vet,  vas  de'ferens;   $,  male,  and  9  .  female 

copulatorj'  organ.    Other  letters  as  In  flg.  fi. 

Sense  Organs. — These  are  represented  by  tactile  organs 


PLANARIANS 


173 


auditory  organs  (otoliths),  and  eyes.  The  whole  surface  of 
the  body  is  very  sensitive  and  {e.g.,  in  the  Polydadida)  con- 
tains cells  which  end  in  tufts  of  fine  hairs,  so  that  certain 
regions  thus  become  specially  sensitive  and  serve  as  tactile 
organs.  The  anterior  pointed  extremity  of  the  body  in 
the  E/iabdocoila  is  characterized  by  an  abundant  develop- 
ment of  rhabdites  and  tactile  hairs,  and  thus  becomes  a 
special  tactile  organ;  in  other  cases  this  region  of  the  body 
is  transformed  into  a  conical  tactile  proboscis  which  can  be 
retracted  into  a  sheath  (Proboscida).  In  the  freshwater 
Tridadida  the  anterior  margin  of  the  head  is  richly  inner- 
vated, and  is  beset  with  a  special  row  of  tactile  cells  which 
contain  no  rhabdites  ;  in  the  terrestrial  forms  of  the  same 
family  (BipaliuM)  Moseley  has  described  a  row  of  papilla; 
along  the  crescent-shaped  anterior  extremity'  which  can  be 


Flo.  8.— Plan  of  a  Polycladld.  m,  bjaln;  i,  Intestinal  branches;  «,,  anterlir 
Qotialrecl  Intestinal  brunch;  In,  longitudinal  nci-vo  cord;  m,  mouth;  ot/, 
oviduct:  or, ovarian  follicle  ;  pA,pliarynx  ;;>A,,phal7ngeal  pouch  ;  *f,stoi1^ach; 
i,  testicular  folliclo;  u,  utei"us;  vt/,  vas  deferens;  5,  male  copulolory  or^an, 
with  the  male  aperture  behind;  9i  feinalo  copulatory  organ,  with  the  femalu 
aperture  before  It.    The  eyes  are  omitted. 

extended  and  form  tactile  organs  ;  between  the  papilla;  are 
peculiar  ciliated  grooves  connected  with  nerves.  In  the 
Polydadida  there  are  tactile  cells  with  stiff  hair-liko  pro- 
cesses on  the  summit  of  the  dorsal  papiUce  and  the  various 
tentacular  structures;,  the  tentacles  in  this  family  also 
serve  to  support  tho  eyes. 

The  majority  of  tho  Turbellarians  possess  eyes ;  the 
Rhabdoccelida  commonly  have  two  or  four,  as  also  have  tho 
Tridadida ;  the  latter,  however,  are  in  some  instances 
funnished  with  a  greater  number  arranged  in  a  continuous 
row  round  the  anterior  end  of  the  body ;  in  tho  Poly- 
dadida there  are  from  fourteen  to  several  hundred  eyes 
arranged  in  two  symmetrical  groups  round  tho  brain  or 


scattered  over  the  whole  of  the  anterior  margin  of  the 
body  and  upon  the  tentacles.  The  eyes  are  always  situ- 
ateil  beneath  the  integument  within  the  parenchyma, 
sometimes  directly  upon  the  brain  or  connected  with  it  bj 
special  optic  nerves.  In  its  simplest  form  the  eye  is  a 
pigmented  spot  with  or  without  a  refractory  lens-like 
body  ;  the  more  complicated  eyes  consist  of  a  pigmented 
sheath  containing  a  number  of  refracting  rods  which  are 
connected  at  their  outer  extremity  with  a  series  of  retinal 
cells,  one  to  each  rod ;  the  retinal  cells  are  prolonged  into 
a  nerve  thread  running  to  the  brain  ;  the  arrangement  of 
the  visual  elements  is  therefore  precisely  the  same  as  in  the 
vertebrate  eye.  Of  great  interest  is  the  fact  that  in  the 
Polydadida  the  number  of  eyes  increases  with  the  growth 
of  the  animal,  and  Lang  has  shown  that  the  eyes  increase 
in  number  by  actual  division.  On  the  other  hand  Carriere 
has  discovered  by  experimenting  with  certain  freshwater 
Tridadida  that  the  compound  eyes  (those  containing  a 
number  of  rods)  are  formed  by  the  coalescence  of  several 
simple  eyes.  Only  a  single  eye  is  found  in  the  Monotida, 
which  has  the  form  of  a  simple  pigment  spot  in  front  of 
the  otolith. 

Auditory  organs  are  found  in  the  shape  of  vesicles  fiUed 
with  fluid  and  containing  circular  lenticular  or  spindle 
shaped  otoliths  formed  of  carbonate  of  lime.  Otolithic 
vesicles  of  this  kind  are  found  in  many  Rhahdoccelida 
(Ac«la,  Monotida,  fig.  4,  ot)  embedded  in  a  depression  ou 
the  anterior  surface  of  the  brain.  In  the  Dendrocalida 
these  organs  are  but  rarely  present. 

As  a'  sensory  organ  of  unknown  function  must  be  men- 
tioned the  paired  lateral  ciliated  grooves  which  are  met 
with  on  eitl\er  side  of  the  brain  in  many  Rhabdocxla  (fig. 
9,  c).;  they  are  also  found  commonly  in  Nemertines  (q.  v.), 
but  are  hero  more  complicated  in  structure. 

Ecprodnctive  Organs.  — With  a  few  exceptions  all  the  Turbellarians 
are  hermaphrodite,  and  reproduce  themselves  sexually.  ■  Only 
ampng  tlie  Microstomida  is  there  an  asexual  as  ■nell  as  a  sexual 
reproduction.  The  male  and  female  organs  open  to  the  exterior, 
either  through  a  common  cloaca  (alrium  gcnitnle)  on  the  ventral  sur- 
face (most  lihahdocxlida  and  all  Tridadida,  figs.  4-7),  or  tlieie  ore 
separate  male  and  female  apeitures.  In  this  case  the  mnio  aperture 
is  generally  placed  in  front  of  tho  female  aperture  (some  lihabdo- 
ccelida  Ski\A  all  Polydadida,  fig.  8),  but  occasionally  tho  positions 
are  reversed  (certain  RhaMoccelida).  Tho  genital  glands  display  a 
primitive  condition  in  bciiig  paired,  though  frequently,  the  ger- 
marium  (fig.  5,  g)  of  the  JViabdomla,  and  occasionally  also  the 
testis,  is  developed  only  upon  one  side  of  the  body. 

Tho  structure  of  the  feinalo  organs  varies.  In  some  cases  there 
are  simple  ovaries  (ou  in  figs.  4,  8)  in  which  the  ova  originate  and 
become  fully  mature  without  being  furnished  with  the  secretion 
of  a  second  gland  ;  in  other  cases  there  is  a  division  into  ger- 
mariuin  (fig.  5-7,  g)  and  yelk  gland  (r) ;  tho  primordial  ova  or  genus 
originate  in  the  i'uimei',  and  absorb  tho  products  of  tho  yelk  gland 
in  the  atrium,  where  they  beeonio  ready  for  fertilization.  An 
inteimediato  condition  is  seen  in  those  forms  where  there  is  but  a 
simple  gland  ]n-Psont  which  produces  genus  in  its  upper  portion 
and  yelk  in  tho  lower  portion.  Tho  ovaries  are  generally  compact 
round  or  tubular  glands  (fig.  4);  sometimes  they  are  formed  of  a 
number  of  pear-shaped  follicles  (fi^.  8);  there  is  usually  a  simple  nr 
paired  uterus  («)  which  retains  the  ova  for  some  time  before  they 
are  deposited  ;  sometimes,  however,  the  ova  undergo  their  develop- 
ment within  tho  uterus  and  are  completely  developed  before  expul- 
sion ;  in  some  cases  the  eggshell  is  detached  within  tlio  uterus  so 
that  the  young  are  produced  alive. 

In  Turbellarians  without  a  yelk  gland  tho  utenis  is  n  ainiplo 
wideniiigof  tho  oviduct  (lig.  8);  in  those  forms  which  possess  addi- 
tional yolk  glands  tho  uterus  is  a  simple  or  paired  diverticulum  of 
the  atrium  genitalo  (figs.  6,  7).  The  x)va  are  either  stirrounded  by 
a  moro  or  less  hard  chitinous  shell,  or  one  shell  contains  a  number 
of  ova  ("cocoon"  of  Tridadida.  and  many  J'vlt/dadiiia).  The 
Polydadida  deposit  an  egg-string  which  like  that  of  tho  Oa3tro]>0(Ia 
consists  of  a  number  of  ecgs  bound  tugilher  by  a  transparent 
albumen-like  mass.  Many  KhabilococlTiirbellaiinn3(<-.<7.,  ifeaostormi 
thrcnlcrgii)  jiroduco  two  sorts  of  «rvo,  thin-shelled  summer  ova  and 
tliickslielleil  winter  ova;  tho  latter  are  capabla  of  withstanding  a 
considerable  amount  of  desiccation,  nnd  nro  dejiosited  in  the  autumn. 
Tho  accessory  female  organs  of  reproduction  are  represented  by  bursa- 
seminales,  which  receive  tho  semen  during  copulatioa  and  retain  it 


174 


PLANARTANS 


until  fertilization  is  accomplished.  A  further  division  of  labour  is 
brought  about  by  the  presence  of  two  diverticula  of  the  atrium 
genitale,  one  of  which  'serves  as  a  bursa  copulatiix  (fig.  5,  be)  and 
the  other  as  .1  receptaculum  seminis  ()'s)  in  the  same  sense  as  the 
equivalent  organs  of  insects.  In  the  place  of  a  special  receptaculum 
seminis  the  efferent  duct  of  the  ovary  is  often  {MesQslomida) 
metamorphosed  into  a  chamber  to  contain  the  semen.  In  the 
Tridadida  and  Pohjcladida  the  female  efferent  duct  is  often 
differentiated  into  a  muscular  vagina  which  closelv  resembles  the 
penis  (figs.  7,  8,  9 ).  .,.,..,_■ 

Finally,  the  female  generative  apparatus  is  furnished  with  a 
number  of  glands  which  have  been  termed  cement  glands,  albumini- 
parous  glands,  and  shell  glands. 

The  male  sexual  glands  (figs.  4-8,  t)  resemble  the  ovaries  in  being 
either  compact  tubular  (fig.  6)  or  follicular  (figs.  4,  6,  7,  8)  struc- 
tures. The  vasa  deferentia  (I'rf)  are  often  widened  out  into  vesiculie 
seminales  (figs.  4,  6,  vs)  ;  or  there  are  special  vesicul.-c  seminalea 
present,  formed  by  a  portion  of  the  penis  (fig.  5,  vs).  In  the  male 
organ  of  copulation  there  is  frequently  found  in  addition  to  the' 
spermatozoa  an  accessory  granulated  secretion  produced  by  special' 
glands,  but  of  unknown  function.  i 

The  muscular  penis,  especially  in  the  EJialdococla,  has  a  number 
of'  cliitinous  spines  and  hooks  which  serve  to  assist  the  animal  in 
maintaining  a  firm  hold  during  copulation,  but  also  in  capturing 
and  retaining  it.s  prey.  In  Macrorhynchus  hdgolandicus,  Gff., 
there  is  a  peculiar  poison  dart  connected  with  the  male  copulatory 
organ  which  only  serves  the  latter  purpose.  Very  remarkable  is, 
the  opening  of  the  penis  into  the  mouth  cavity  ia. Sl'jlostovium 
(Polydcidida)  and  Prorhynchus  (Khahdoaela),  and  also  the  existence 
of  several  (2-15)  pairs  of  male'  copulatory  organs  and  genital 
apertures  in  certain  Pobjdadida. 

The  spermatozoa  vary  much  in  form,  especially  in  the  Khabdo- 
eoelida,  where  frequently  the  species  of  one  and  the  same  genus  are 
distinguished  by  the  different  form  of  the  spermatozoa.  Copulation 
in  the  Turbellarians  is  generally  reciprocal;  only  in  those  cases 
where  both  summer  and  winter  ova  (see  above)  'are  formed  do  the 
former  arise  from  self-fertilization;  the  latter  are  the  result  of  the 
copulation  of  two  individuals.  The  fertilization  of  the  ova  always 
takes  place  in  the  atrium  genitale.  Jlany  Turbellarians,  especially 
the  Acmla,  display  the  phenomenon  known  as  "successive  her- 
maphroditism," the  male  organs  of  an  individual  attain  to  maturity 
first,  and  the  female  organs  become  ripe  subsequently.  During 
copulation,  therefore,  one  individual  is  physiologically  a  male  and 
the  other  a  female. 

Asexual  generation  is  met  with  only  in  the  Microstomida ;  it 
takes  the  form  of  transverse  division  accompanied  by  budding. 
The  posterior  third  of  the  body  becomes  separated  off  by  a  septum 
running  from  the  gut  to  the  integument  and  an  e.-cteraal  furrow 
corresponding  to  this ;  this  part  of  the  body  grows  in  length  until 
it  equals  the  anterior  portion.  By  further  repetition  of  this  double 
procedure  of  separation  and  equalization  there,  chains  of  4,  then  8, 
16,  and  32  buds  are  formed,  which  remain  attached  (fig.  9),  and, 
altliough  fresh  mouth  apertures  {in',  in",  vi'")  have  been  formed,  are 
still  in  communication  by  the  intestinal  lumen ;  this  becomes  closed 
before  or  after  the  several  buds  break  off  from  their  connexion  with 
each  other.  Throughout  the  whole  summer  chains  of  zooids  are  met 
with ;  in  autumn  this  asexual  division  probably  ceases  to  occur ;  the 
several  individuals  become  sexually  mature,  separate  from  each  other, 
and  lay  eggs  which  remain  quiescent  during  the  winter  and  in  the 
spring  develop  into  fresh  individuals  reproducing  asexually. 

Z)e»f/o;)mc»<.— The  study  of  the  development  of  the  Turbellarians 
is  unfortunately  not  Very  far  advanced,  particularly  among  the 
small  Ehabdocalida,  which  are  extremely  difficult  to  investigate, 
and  about  which  hardly  any  developmental  facts  are  known.  The 
larger  freshwater  Tridadida  and  the  Polydadida  on  the  contrary 
have  been  recently  very  fully  investigated.  The  Rhabdocxla  and 
the  Tridadida  appear  to  develop  directly  without  any  metamor- 
phosis while  a  great  part  of  the  Polydadida  undergo  a  metanior- 
phosis'and  pass  through  a  larval  condition,  during  which  they  are 
furnished  with  provisional  ciliated  processes  (fig.  10) ;  the  Aca'.a 
have  also  a  free  larval  form ;  pelagic  larvie  with  a  coat  of  long  cilia 
apparently  belonging  to  this  group  have  been  observed  by  Ulianiu. 
The  sp"mentation  of  the  ovum  is  total,  but  unequal ;  an  epibolic 
gastruia  is  formed  and  the  aperture  of  invagination  becomes  the 
permanent  mouth  of  thg  adult.  ™     ,  ,,     • 

Syslemalic  An-unqcmcnt  and  Mode o/Life.—OrdeT  Turbdlana.— 
Platyhelminths  with  a  ciliated  integument,  a  nwiith  and  pharynx, 


pharynx,  but  having  otoliths  ;  all  the  forms  marine.  Many  quit* 
flat,  with  the  lateral  margins  bent  down  towards  the  ventral  surfaco 
{Convoluta),  frequently  with  brown  or  green  parasitic  algse  in  »» 
parenchyma. 

Tribe  U;    Rhaoaocceta  (fig.  1,  I). — Intestinal  tract  and  paren- 
chyma separate  ;  nervous   system   and  excretory  organs  present ; 
with  compact  testes  and   female   generative 
«»*,  ^  glands  (ovaries  or  separated  germarium  and 

r'i-c  yelk  glands);  with  a  complicated  pharynx, 

^■■|>S>.         but  generally  without   otoliths.     Numerous 
llJ^Ci™     forms,    freshwater  and   marine ;    the  genua 
Iv^^'kMW        Prorhynchus  (two  species)  also  in  damp  earth. 
The  Microstomida  (hg.  9)  propagate  asexuallyj 


depressed  ;  without  an  intestine,  or  with  a  simple  unbranched 
intestine;  the  female  genital  glands  alnays  compact,  not  follicular ; 
genital  apertures  single  or  distinct. 

Tribe  I.  Acicla  (fig.  1,  o).-With  a  digestive  parenchyma  not 
differentiated  into  intestine  and  parenchyma  proper;  with  no 
nervous  system  or  excretory  organs  ;  sexual  organs  hermaphrodite, 
with'  follicular  testes  and  paired  o\aries  :  generally   without  a 


mm 


Sji" 


Fig.  9.  flg-IO- 

fio  9 -i/.'cra(oma  ;■•««!«,  Oe.,  undergoing  division.   There  are  16  individual* 

8  nl'lh  mouth  apertures,  showing  the  buds  of  the  flist  (m).  second  (m').  thirj 

(m")  and  fourth  (m"')  geneiallon.    Tlie  fifth  geneiallon  has  not  yet  agqulreJ 

a  mouth  aperture.    <:,  ciliated  giooves;  «,  eye  spots  ;  i,  intesune 

Fio. To-Lmvaof  ruugia  cmrantica,  U  (Polydadida),vm  provisional  dilated 

processes  (after  A.  Lang). 
Freshwater  forms  mostly  belong  to  the  families  Mesostomida  and 
Vorticida,  some  of  wliich  contain  green  parasitic  alga;.  Marine 
forms  include  representatives  of  these  two  families  and  of  the 
Proboscida  (with  a  tactile  proboscis).  Of  the  family  Vorlioda, 
the  "enera  Gniftlla  and  Anoplodium  are  parasitic,  the  lormer  lu 
Gastropods  the  latter  in  Echinodcrms  (Holothunans). 

Tribe  III.  Alloioc^la(tg.  1,  <:).— Intestinal  tract  and  parenchyma 
separate  ;  nervous  system  .and  excretory  organs  present ;  with  folli- 
cular testes  and  compact  female  glands  (as  in  the  Rhabdocala) ; 
pharynx  similarly  developed  as  a  shorter  or  longer  sac.  One  family 
hfciolida),  with  otoliths.  All  the  species  marine,  with  one  excep- 
tion, Plagiostoraa  Umani,  which  lives  in  the  deep  water  of  the 

sX-orderB.  /)c)«?roc(eh'(?o.— Large  forms,  with  .a  flattened  body, 
branched  intestine,  follicular  testes  and  follicular  velk  glands  or 
ovaries ;  without  otoliths.  .         .,,   ,, 

Tribe  I.  Tridadida.-  Body  elongate ;  intestine  with  three  main 
branches  uniting  to  open  into  a  cylindrical  retractile  pharynx  ;  with 
follicular  testes,  two  round  germariuras,  and  numerous  yelk  folicles, 
with  a  single  sexual  aperture.  Planaria,  Dcndrocoslum,  Polycdts 
(fig  1,  o)  are  inhabitants  of  fresh  water  (with  great  power  of 
reproduction).  Terrestrial  forms  (fig.  1,  e,f)  of  leech-like  shape, 
especially  met  with  in  the  tropics  (only  two  European  species  Uyn- 
cliodcmits  tcrrcslris  and  Geodesmus  bilincaiiis) ;  marine  forms  Guuda 
(characterized  by  a  metameric  structure),  Bdelloura  (external  para- 
site of  XiotuZhs).  ,,.,.,      ,,  .  ,,       , 

Tribe  II.  Polydadida  {fig.  1,  rf).— Body  leaf-like,  thm,  and  broad, 
with  numerous  branched  or  retiform  intestinal  cceca  which  unite  to 
form  a  central  tube  (stomach) ;  with  follicular  testes  and  folliculai- 
ovaries,  with  t«o  separated  genital  apertures  the  male  in  front  ol 
the  female  ;  without  (Acotyka),  or  with  {Cotylea)  a  sucker  situated 
behind  the  female  generative  opening.     All  marine. 

Uteralure.-Jhe  mos-t  recent  works,  which  also  conlain  a  full  account  of  what 
hs»  cone  betoie,  are  the  following  :-/I'.»Wofa(a.-L.  v.  Graff,  Monograph,, 
^r  Turbellaiiu\  1.  mabdoc<,lida,  Leipsio,  IS62,  with  20  plates.    /''"'■"""■J 

\4rwandtscha(t  der  Platyhelminthen  rait  Ccelenleiaten  uml  Hniidmeen.  In 
Mu7h  foorscj  A-eapel.  vol.  iii.,  1881;  El.  Mctschn.koff,  "Die  Embrjolog.e 
yTp)an7Hap^iclXa^"  in  Z.Usc/u:/.  -(>..  7.c.!..  vol.  xxxv.ii.,  18S3;  >»«o  J'l'"^^ 
"  [Tntersuchunccn  iibei'  den  Bau  und  die  Entwickelungsxcschichte  der  iiiss- 
w.ISer-Dend""eoelen;"to^«'<«A--  /. ...'«.2f.<.(., vol. :.l.,  ISS4.   Land J-lanan.,.,.^ 


P  L  A  —  P  L  A 


175 


H.  N.  MoMley,  *'0n  tlie  Anatomy  and  Histolopy  of  Ihe  tand  Planarians  nf 
Ceylon,  with  somr  Account  of  their  Hab:t.s,  «nd  wirh  a  Desciipljtm  of  Two  New 
Species,  and  with  Xote^  on  the  Anatomy  of  some  Kuropcan  Aquatic  Species,"  in 
Phil.  Trans.  (London,  1874).  and  "Xotcs  on  tlic  Srnictnrc  of  sr-rcnil  Fonns  of 
Lan<I  Planarinns,  with  a  Description  of  Two  Xcm'  Genera  and  Several  New  Species, 
and  a  LiiJt  of  all  Species  at  present  kno\vn,'*  in  Quart.  Jour,  Mia;  ,Sc(:,  vol.  xlvii., 
1877;  J.v,  lCennel,"Di;;  in  Detilsctiland  Kefundcncn  Lanilplnnaricn  RItt/ncliode- 
mus  terre^tris  nnd  Oeott'smu.^  bitineatus,"  in  Arbeit.  ZooL-Zootom.  Justit.  jru/-r- 
burff,  v.,  1879.  Polytlniiida. — A.  I^ng,  "Pio  Polyclnrten,"  in  /"uw-ia  vttci  /7ora 
ttes  (j'of/cs  ton  ^'eajjel.  No.  II,  39  plates,  Leipsic,  lriS4-y-J.  (I*  v.  G.) 

PLANCK,  Gottlieb  Jakob  (1751-1833),  tlieologiaa 
and  church  historian,  was  born  at  Niirtingen  in  Wiirtein- 
bcrg,  where  his  father  ^vas  a  notary,  on  November  15, 
1751.  He  was  educated  for  the  Protestant  ministry  at 
Blaubeuren,  Bebenhausen,  and  Tiibingen,  and  from  177-1- 
to  1784  held  successive  appointments  asrepctent,  preacher, 
and  professor  in  Tiibingen  and  Stuttgart.  In  1781  he 
published  anonymously  the  first  volume  of  his  Geschichte 
des  Protestantischen  Lehrbefjrifs ;  the  second,  also  anony- 
mous, appeared  in  1783 ;  and  in  1784  he  was  chosen  to 
succeed  Walch  at  Gottingen.  Here  in  the  course  of  a 
long  and  useful  professional  career  he  enjoyed  a  large 
number  of  academical  and  ecclesiastical  honours.  His 
death  took  place  on  August  31,  1833. 

The  Geschichte  A.s  ProtJi.itanlischen  Lehrhegriffs  was  completed  in 
6  vols,  in  1800.  It  was  followed  by  an  extensive  Geschichte  clcr 
Kirchcnverfassung,  in  5  vols.  (1803-1809).  Both  are  works  of 
considerable  importance,  and  are  characterized  by  abundant  learn- 
ing and  acuteness,  the  most  conspicuous  fault  in  the  eyes  of  his 
least  favourable  critics  being  a  tendency,  which  cannot  be  wholly 
denied,  to  ' '  subjective  pragmatism. " 

PLANTAGENET.  This  sumamo,  distinctive  of  a  line 
of  kings  who  ruled  in  England  for  more  than  three 
hundred  years,  was  first  adopted  by  Geoffrey,  count  of  Anjou, 
in  reference  to  a  sprig  of  broom  {planta  ffenisla-)  which  he 
is  said  to  have  worn  in  his  bonnet.  He  is  described  by 
early  •(vriters  as  a  very  hand.'spme  man,  but  there  was 
certainly  nothing  very  striking  in  his  character.  He  was 
the  son  of  Fulk,  count  of  Anjou,  king  of  Jerusalem,  who, 
before  his  departure  for  the  Holy  Land,  placed  him  in 
possession  of  the  counties  of  Anjou  and  Maine.  This 
made  him  in  the  eyes  of  Henry  I.  of  England,  who  was 
anxious  to  protect  Normandy,  an  eligible  husband  for  his 
widowed  daughter,  the  empress  lilan;!,  whom  he  proposed 
to  make  his  heiress,. both  in  England  and  beyond  sea.  It 
was  a  purely  political  marriage,  and  the  couple  immediately 
afterwards  had  violent  quarrels.  Nor  was  either  of  them 
popular  in  England,  whore  a  female  sovereign  would  at 
that  time  have  been  an  innovation,  and  Geoffrey  was  dis- 
liked as  a  foreigner— although  the  same  objection  might 
have  seemed  to  apply  to  Stephen  of  Blois,  whose  superior 
activity  gained  possession  of  the  throne  before  Maud  could 
make  good  her  pretensions.  In  a  long  war  with  the 
usurper,  though  recogniEed  as  "lady  of  Englajid"  and 
virtual  sovereign  by  one  part  of  the  country,  she  wa.s  only 
able  in  the  end  to  secure  the  succession  for  her  son. 
Stephen  ended  his  days  in  peace,  and  the  house  of 
Plantagenet  succeeded  to. the  throne  in  the  person  of 
Henry  II.  by  virtue  of  a  compact. 

Henry,  the  son  of  Geoffrey  of  Anjou  and  the  empress 
Maud,  was  born  at  Le  Mans  in  the  year  1133,  and  was 
just  twenty-one  years  of  age  when  ho  attained  the  crown. 
But  his  youth  had  been  well  spent  in  preparation  for  it. 
When  eight  years  old  he  was  brought  to  England  to  be 
trained  in  arms.  At  sixteen  he  was  knighted  by  his 
greaUincle  David  of  Scotland.  In  1151  his  father  put 
him  in  possession  of  Normandy,  and,  dying  soon  after,  left 
him  also  the  succession  to  Anjou.  These  a<lvantages  ho 
imprcived  next  year  by  his  marriage  with  Eleanor  of 
Aquitaino,  which,,  by  adding  Poitou  and  G  jienne  to  his 
dominions,  gave  him  the  lorJ.ship  over  the^.'holo  western 
side  of  France  from  north  to  south,  with  the  exception  of 
Britanny,  which  also  some  time  afterwards  came  under  his 
power. 


Having  thus,  even  before  he  was  twenty,  become  master 
of  so  many  fair  provinces,  he  then  sailed  to  England,  and, 
though  he  did  not  dethrone  Stephen,  compelled  him  to 
acknowledge  him  as  his  successor.  Next  year  he  was  king. 
It  is  a  new  era  in  the  history  of  England  as  well  as  in  the 
fortunes  of  his  house.  The  country,  which  was  lately  so 
impatient  of  the  nde  of  a  foreigner — fearing,  doubtless, 
that  English  interests  would  be  sacrificed  to  those  of  Anjou 
— now  j'ields  an  easy  submi-ssion  to  the  ruler  of  all  western 
France  from  Picardy  to  the  Pyrenees.  And,  though  Henry 
is  in  fact  one  of  the  greatest  of  Continental  potentates, 
greater  really  than  his  feudal  supci-ior  the  king  of  France, 
there  is  no  great  cause  for  anxietv.  Henry  devotes  him- 
self to  the  interests  of  his  island  '-ingdom,  takes  steps  to 
secure  the  succession  there  to  his  issue,  causing  his  eldest 
son  even  to  be  crowned  king  during  his  own  lifetime,  and 
is  much  more  intent  on  the  subjugation  of  Wales  and 
Ireland  and  the  recognition  of  his  feudal  superiority  over 
Scotland  than  upon  any  extension  of  his  responsibilities 
abroad.  Personally  a  man  of  fiery  temperament  and 
strong  passions,  his  patience  as  a  politician  is  remarkable. 
Bit  by  bit  he  is  building  up  a  strong  empire,  and  even 
keeping  the  pretensions  of  the  church  \vithin  definite  and 
reasonable  bounds. ,  But  a  single  angry  word  undoes  the 
work  of  years.  He  is  responsible  for  Becket's  murder. 
He  must  do  penance  and  make  his  peace  with  the  church. 
He  must  humiliate  himself  before  Becket's  grave. 

His  dynastic  policy  seemed  almost  an  equal  failure, 
but  was  productive  of  wide  and  far-reaching  consequences. 
His  ungrateful  sons  rebelled  against  him,  and  when  he 
heard  that  even  John  had  joined  the  confederacy  he  felt 
that  he  had  nothing  more  to  live  for.  The  eldest,  Henry, 
whom  he  had  been  so  anxious  to  make  a  king  during  his 
own  life,  sickened  and  died  in  France  after  flagrant  acts 
of  ingratitude  and  ia^)iety.  Geoffrey,  to  whom  he  had 
secured  the  duchy  of  Britannj',  soon  followed  his  brother; 
and  there  remained  but  Richard  and  John,  besides  three 
daughters,  who  were  all  disposed  of  in  marriage  to 
Continental  princes.  As  Richard,  though  he  came  to  the 
crown,  also  died  without  legitimate  issue,  the  male  line 
was  continued  in  the  two  sons  of  John,  Henry  III.  and 
Richard,  king  of  the  Romans,  and  the  issue  of  the  latter 
became  extinct  in  the  next  generation. 

It  IS  remarkable  how  the  prosperity  of  England  seemed 
to  keep  pace  with  the  stability  of  the  succession.  The 
short'  reigns  of  Richard  I.  and  John  were  times  of  peculiar 
misery,  which  was  only  brought  to  a  climax  by  the  war 
of  the  Great  Charter  <and  by  the  dauphin  being  called  in 
to  enforce  it,  Jlatters  improved  under  Henry  III.,  even 
during  the  minority  ;  but  he,  too,  had  a  war  with  his  barons 
in  the  latter  part  of  his  reign.  He,  too,  like  his  father, 
had  but  two  sons  who  grew  up  to  manhood  ;  and,  while  the 
elder,  Edv,-ard  I.,  succeeded  him  on  the  throne  and  was  the 
ancestor  of  all  the  following  kings,  the  younger,  Edmund 
Crouchback,  became  progenitor  of  the  house  of  Lancaster 
by  the  marriage  of  his  great  granddaughter  Blanche  to 
John  of  Gaunt,  fourth  son  of  Edward  III.  Edward  I.  had 
three  sons  who  came**)  man's  estate;  Edward  II.  only  two, 
or  moro  properly  only  one,  for  the  second,  John  of  ICltham, 
died  in  Scotland  at  the  age  of  nineteen.  Finally  the  time 
of  Edward  HI.  with  his  great  family  was  the  clima.x  in  the 
fortunes  of  the  house  of  Plantagenet  Nor  need  wo  pursue 
the  family  histoi-y  further,  as  the  story  of  its  descent  after 
the  days  of  Edward  III.  will  be  found  sufficiently  treated 
elsewhere  ■  (see  Lancaster,  House  of,  and  York, 
HopsK  of). 

Of  the  alliances  of  this  great  dynasty  the  most  import- 
ant after  thi  doys  of  Henry  II.  were  those  of  the  hoaso 
of  Lancaster.  Henry  III.  married  his  daughter  Margaret 
to  Alexander  III .  of  Scotland,  and  another  daughter  U>  the 


176 


P  L  A  — P  L  A 


duke  of  Britanny.  Edward  I.  had  for  his  sons-in-law 
Gilbert  de  Clare,  earl  of  Gloucester,  the  duke  of  Brabant, 
and  the  earl  of  Holland.  A  daughter  of  Edward  II. 
married  a  duke  of  Gueldres.  But  "  the  aspiring  blood  of 
Lancaster  "  spread  itself  over  Europe  by  alliances  with 
Castile  and  Portugal,  Navarre  and  Denmark,  Bavaria  and 
other  foreign  states.  It  has  reigned  in  Portugal  to  the 
present  day,  and  it  continued  to  reign  in  Spain  till  the  end 
of  the  17  th  century.  (j.  ga.) 

PLANTAIN  (liat.  plantago),  a  name  given  to  plants 
with  broad  palm-like  leaves.  This  is  the  case  with  certain 
species  of  Plantago,  Alisma,  and  Musa,  to  all  of  which  the 
term  is  popularly  applied.  Of  the  Plantago  little  need  be 
said  here,  the  species  being  for  the  most  part  mere  weeds, 
though  one  species,  P.  lanceolata,  is  eaten  by  cattle,  and 
the  seeds  of  another,  P.  major,  are  collected  for  the  food 
of  birds.  Of  far  greater  general  importance  is  the  genus 
Mum,  to  which  belong  the  Plantain,  and  the  Banana 
{q.v.).  These  are  gigantic  herbs,  now  diffused  by  cultiva- 
tion throughout  the  tropics  of  both  hemispheres,  and 
sending  up  from  a  short 
thick  underground  stem 
shoots  with  a  number  of 
very  large  leaves  whose 
long,  thick  leaf-stalks 
are  wrapped  one  round 
another.  The  blades  are 
usually  oblong -obtuse, 
like  the  blade  of  an  oar, 
with  a  very  thick  midrib 
from  which  diverge  on 
each  side  numerous  pa- 
rallel densely  arranged 
secondary  ribs.  The 
flowers  are  borne  in  huge 
pendulous  spikes  pro- 
vided with  large  boat- 
shaped,  often  coloured, 
bracts,  in  whose  axils  the 
whorls  of  flowers  are  pro- 
duced; the  lower  ones  Musa  sapienUm. 
are  usually  female  or  hermaphrodite,  those  at  the  apex  of  the 
spike  are  male  only.  These  flowers  consist  of  a  perianth  of 
six  divisions  partly  united  below,  slightly  two-lipped  above, 
and  enclosing  five  perfect  and  one  imperfect  stamen.  The 
ovary  is  inferior  and  three-celled — ripening  iuto  a  long  ob- 
long fruit  filled  with  spongy  pulp,  in  which  the  numerous 
seeds  are  embedded.  The  accumulation  of  starch  and  sugar 
in  this  pulp  renders  the  fruit  of  vast  importance  as  an  article 
of  diet  in  the  tropics.  Corenwinder,  cited  by  Pavy,  says 
that,  while  starchy  matter  forms  more  than  19  per  cent,  of 
the  ripe  fruit — there  is  also  nearly  5  per  cent,  of  nitrogen- 
ous matter,  about  double  that  of  the  potato.  The  plant 
requires  but  little  attention,  and  the  produce  from  a  rela- 
tively small  area  is  enormous ;  hence  it  is  one  of  the  most 
valuable  of  all  food-plants.  After  fruiting,  the  stem  dies 
down,  but  provision  for  new  growth  is  made  by  the  pro- 
duction from  the  underground  stock  of  numerous  offsets. 
The  number  of  varieties  is  very  great,  a  circumstance 
which  in  itself  testifies  to  the  long  period  during  which 
the  plant  has  been  cultivated.  It  is  also  the  more 
remarkable  in  that  perfect  seeds  are  comparatively  rarely 
produced,  the  inference  being  that  the  different  forms  have 
arisen  from  bud -variations  or  "  sports."  In  spite  of  the 
vast  number  of  varieties  grown  in  the  tropics  of  both 
hemispheres — varieties  mostly  dependent  on  diversities  in 
the  size,  form,  and  flavour  of  the  fruit — the  general 
opinion  among  botanists  is  that  they  have  all  sprung  from 
one  species,  the  Mv^a  eapienluvi  of  Brown.  Were  it 
otherwise,    it   is   presumed   that   the   V£  rieties   found  in 


America  would  be  different  from  the  Asiatic  ones,  and 
these  again  from  those  found  in  the  South  Sea  Islands, 
etc.;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  there  are  no  geographic 
limitations,  the  same  varieties  being  found  in  different 
quarters  of  the  globe.  The  varieties  are  arranged  under 
two  heads  by  Desvaux  according  to  the  size  of  their  fruit 
— the  bananas,  with  fruit  7-15  inches  in  length,  and  the 
fig  bananas,  with  fruit  from  1-6  inches  long;  but  these 
variations  are  not  constant,  and  Schoniburgk  has  recorded 
a  case  in  which  a  spike  of  the  fig  banana  bore  numerous 
fruits  proper  to  that  variety,  and  in  addition  a  large 
number  of  fruits  like  those  of  the  Chinese  dwarf-plantain, 
Musa  chinaisis,  the  Cavendish  banana  of  gardens — a  case 
analogous  to,  but  even  more  remarkable  than,  the  not 
infrequent  occurrence  of  peaches  and  nectarines  on  the 
same  branch.  The  plantain  and  the  banana  are  sometimes 
spoken  of  as  distinct.  The  former  has  a  green  stem  and 
yellow  angular  fruit  not  fit  for  eating  till  cooked.  The 
banana  {M.  sapienlum)  has  the  stem  marked  with  purple 
spots,  and  a  sho'rter  more  cylindric  fruit  which  may  be 
eaten  without  cooking,  but  the  two  run  one  into  the  other 
so  that  no  absolute  distinction  can  be  drawn  between 
them.  The  species  have  been  found  in  a  wild  state  in 
Chittagong  and  Khasia,  in  the  Philippine  Islands,  in  Siam, 
and  in  Ceylon,  but  nowhere  truly  wild  on  the  American 
continent. 

Throughout  tropical  and  subtropical  Asia  the  plant  has 
numerous  and  diverse  native  names;  and  it  was  mentioned 
by  old  Greek  and  I,atin  authors.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  are  no  native  names  for  the  plant  in  Mexico,  Peru, 
or  Brazil  From  such  considerations  as  these  Alphonse  de 
Candolle,  in  his  Origine  des  Planies  Cultivees,  sums  up  the 
evidence  by  asserting  the  Asiatic  origin  of  the  plantain 
and  its  early  introduction  into  America  by  the  Spaniards 
or  Portuguese.  If  it  should  turn  out  that  the  banana  or 
the  plantain  existed  in  America  before  the  discovery  of 
that  continent,  then  M.  de  Candolle  would  attribute  that 
circumstance  to  some  fortuitous  introduction  at  no  very 
remote  date  rather  than  to  the  simultaneous  existence  of 
the  banana  as  an  indigenous  plant  in  both  hemispheres. 

It  is  not  only  for  their  fruit  that  these  plants  are 
valuable.  The  leaves  are  used  for  thatching,  and  the 
abundant  fibre  they  contain  forms  a  good  substitute  for 
hemp.  Musa  textilts  is  of  special  value  from  this  point  of 
view.  The  Abyssinian  banana,  3f.  Ensete,  has  dry  capsular 
fruit,  and  very  handsome  foliage. 

PLANTAIN-EATER.     See  Tourakoo. 

PLANTIN,  Christophe  (1514-1589),  born  in  a  vil- 
lage near  Tours  (probably  Saint- Avertin)  in  1514,  learned 
book-binding  and  book-selling  at  Caen,  and,  having  mar- 
ried in  that  town,  settled  in  1549  as  bookbinder  in  Antwerp, 
then  the  principal  commercial  town  of  the  Netherlands, 
where  he  was  soon  known  as  the  first  in  his  profession. 
A  bad  wound  in  the  arm,  which  unfitted  him  for  this 
occupation,  seems  to  have  been  the  cause  that  first  led  hina 
(about  1555)  to  apply  himself  to  typography.  The 
first  known  book  printed  in  his  office  was  La  Institv^ 
tione  di  una  fancinlla  nata  nobilmente,  by  J.  M.  Bruto, 
with  a  French  translation,  and  this  was  soon  followed  by 
many' other  works  in  French  and  Latin,  which  in  point  of 
execution  rivalled  the  best  printing  of  his  time,  while  the 
masters  in  the  art  of  engraving  then  flourishing  in  the 
Netherlands  illustrated  many  of  his  editions.  In  1562, 
Plantin  himself  being  absent  in  Paris,  his  workmen  printed 
an  heretical  pamphlet,  which  caused  his  movables  to  be 
seized  and  sc  Id.  It  seems,  however,  that  he  recovered  a 
great  deal  of  the  money,  and  in  1563  he  associated  him- 
self with  some  friends  to  carry  on  his  business  on  a  larger 
scale.  Among  them  were  two  grand-nephews  of  Dan. 
Romberg,  who  furnished  him  with  the  fine  Hebrew  types 


P  L  A— P  L  A 


177 


of  tliat  renowned  Venetian  printer.  He  was  now  in  a 
position  to  spare  no  expense  in  printing  his  books  with  all 
the  care  he  deemed  necessary;  and  his  editions  of  the 
Rible  in  Hebrew,  Latin,  and  Dutch,  his  Corpus  Juris, 
I.atin  and  Greek  classics,  and  many  other  works  produced 
;it  this  period  are  renowned  for  their  beautiful  execution 
and  accuracy.  A  much  greater  enterprise  was  planned  by 
him  in  those  yeai-s — the  publication  of  a  BMia  Foiyglotta, 
■which  should  fix  the  original  text  of  Old  and  New 
Testaments  on  a  scientific  basis.  In  spite  of  clerical 
opposition  he  was  supported  by  Philip  II.  king  of  Spain, 
who  sent  him  the  learned  Benedictus  Arias  Montanus  to 
lake  the  leading  part  in  the  work  of  editorship.  With  his 
lealous  help  the  work  was  finished  in  five  years  (1569-73, 
8  vols.  fol.).  Plantin  earned  much  renown  by  it,  but 
little  profit,  or  rather  less  than  none ;  but  in  compensation 
he  received  the  privilege  of  printing  all  liturgical  books 
for  the  states  of  King  Philip,  and  the  office  of  "prototypo- 
graphus  regius,"  which  carried  with  it  the  oversight  over 
«11  printers  in  the  Netherlands,  a  charge  of  which  Plantin 
seems  to  have  acquitted  himself  indifferently.  This  need 
not  surprise  us,  when  we  know  that  Plantin,  though  out- 
wardly a  faithful  son  of  the  church,  was  till  his  death  the 
partisan  of  a  mystical  sect  of  heretics;  and  it  is  now  proved 
that  many  of  their  books  published  without  the  name  of  a 
printer  came  from  his  presses  together  with  the  missals, 
breviaries,  <tc.,  for  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 

Besides  the  polyglott  Bible,  Plantin  published  in  those 
years  many  other  works  of  note,  such  as  editions  of 
St  Augustine  and  St  Jerome,  the  botanical  works  of 
Dodonasus,  Clusius,  and  Lobelius,  the  description  of  the 
Netherlands  by  Guicciardini,  ikc.  In  1575  his  printing- 
office  reckoned  more  than  twenty  presses  and  seventy-three 
workmen,  besides  a  similar  number  that  worked  for  the 
office  at  homo.  But  soon  there  came  bad  times  for 
Antwerp.  In  November  1576  the  town  was  plundered 
and  in  part  burnt  by  the  Spaniards,  and  Plantin  had  to 
|iay  an  exorbitant  ransom.  A  great  many  inhabitants 
<if  the  once  flourishing  city  emigrated,  and  Plantin  also 
thought  of  settling  elsewhere.  He  established  a  branch 
of  his  office  in  Paris;  and  when  in  1583  the  states  of 
Holland  sought  a  typographer  for  the  newly  erected 
university  at  Leyden,  and  invited  him  to  occupy  this  place, 
he  left  his  much  reduced  business  in  Antwerp  to  his  sons- 
in-law  John  Moerontorf  (Morctus)  and  Francis  van  Ravol- 
inghen  (Raphelengius),  and  settled  at  lioydcn.  But  he 
could  not  thrive,  it  seems,  in  Holland.  When  in  1585 
Antwerp  was  taken  by  the-  prince  of  Parma  and  affairs 
became  there  more  settled,  he  left  the  office  in  Leyden  to 
Raphelengius  and  returned  to  Antwerp,  excusing  himself 
for  having  served  the  states  of  the  revolted  provinces 
by  the  difficulties  of  his  situation.  In  Antwerp  he 
laboured  till  his  death  on  the  Ist  July  1589.  His  son-in- 
law,  John  Moretus,  ani."  his  descendants  continued  to  print 
many  works  of  note  "in  officina  Plantiniana,"  but  from 
the  second  half  of  the  17th  century  the  house  began  to 
decline.  It  continued,  however,  in  the  possession  of  the 
Moretus  family,  which  religiously  left  all  the  old  things 
in  the  office  untouched,  and  when  in  1876  the  town  of 
Antwerp  acquired  the  old  buildings  with  all  their  contents, 
for  1,200,000  francs,  the  authorities  were  able  with  little 
trouble  to  create  one  of  the  most  remarkable  museums  in 
existence  (Mus6e  Plantin,  opened  19th  August  1877). 

Pee  Max  Rooscs,  Chrielnpht  Planlin  imprimeur  AnversoU, 
Antwerp,  1882  ;  Aug.  do  Bncker  and  Ch.  Knclona,  Annates  de 
timprimcric  Plant inicnnc,  BrnsscU,  1865;  Dcguorge,  La  maism 
Planlin,  2d  cd.,  Bnisaels,  1878.  (P.  A.  T.) 

PLANTING.     See  Arboriculture. 
PLASENCtA,  a  city  of  Spain  and  an  episcopal  see,  in 
the  north   of  the  province  of  Caceres  (Estremadura),  ia 

1  <)—'.• 


pleasantly  situated  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Xerte  or 
Jerte,  a  sub-tributary  of  the  Tagus,  and  at  the  foot  of  the 
sierras  of  Bejar  and  Vera,  continuations  of  the  Guadarrama 
range.  Industrially  and  commercially  insignificant,  the 
place  has  some  interest  for  the  artist  and  ecclesiologist  on 
account  of  its  fine  walls,  biiilt  in  1197  by  Alphonso  VIII. 
of  Castile,  and  of  its  cathedral,  begun  in  1498,  which  is  a 
favourable  specimen  of  the  ornate  Gothic  of  its  period, 
and  also  shows  good  examples  of  the  vorkmanship  of 
Berrugueto,  Aleman,  and  Other  artists.  The  population 
of  the  ayuntamiento  was  7090  in  1877.  The  Hieronymite 
convent  of  Yuste,  the  scene  of  the  last  years  of  the 
emperor  Charles  V.,  lies  about  24  miles  to  the  westward, 
and  is  most  conveniently  reached  from  Plasencia. 

PLASTER  OF  PARIS.     See  Gypsum. 

PLATA,  LA.     See  Argentine  Republic. 

PLATA,  RIO  DE  LA.     See  Plate  River,  p.  187. 

PLATyEA,  or  Plat*^,  a  celebrated  city  of  ancient 
Greece,  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  northern  slope  of  Mount 
Cithseron  iu  Boeotia,  about  6i  miles  by  road  south  of 
Thebes,  or  a  little  over  5  geographical  miles  in  a  direct  line. 
Its  territory  was  separated  from  that  of  Thebes  by  the 
river  Asopus.  The  Thebans  claimed  to  have  founded 
Platsea,  but,  however  this  may  have  been,  Plataea  was 
always  at  feud  with  its  more  powerful  neighbour.  In  519 
B.C.  the  Plat*ans,  being  hard  pressed  by  Thebes,  applied 
for  help  to  the  Spartan  king  Cleomenes,  who  advised  them 
to  place  themselves  under  the  protection  of  Athens.  They 
did  so,  and  Athens  and  Plataea  were  thenceforward  fast 
friends.  It  was  perhaps  on  this  occasion  that  the 
Platseans  were  granted  that  restricted  citizenship  of  Athens 
which  we  know  that  they  enjoyed  at  a  later  time.  When 
Athens  faced  the  Persians  alone  at  Marathon,  the  Platseans 
to  a  man  marched  out  to  their  help  and  shared  in  the 
victory  (490  B.C.).  From  that  day  the  names  of  Athens 
and  Plataea  were  always  associated  in  solemn  prayers  at 
Athens.  Though  dwellers  in  an  inland  town,  and  therefore 
ignorant  of  seamanship,  the  Plataeans  helped  to  man  the 
Athenian  ships  at  the  sea  n^bt  with  the  Persians  off 
Artemisium  (480).  In  revenge  iHf  Persians  burned 
Plat«a.  The  great  battle  of  Platsa,  whicL  finally  secured 
the  freedom  of  Greece  against  the  Persians,  was  fought  on 
the  uneven  and  broken  ground  to  the  east  and  north  of 
the  town  (September  479).  After  the  battle  the  Greeks 
declared  the  city  and  territory  of  Platoca  to  be  independent 
and  inviolable.  The  Plata^ans  undertook  to  bring  annual 
offerings  of  food  and  raiment  to  the  graves  of  those  who 
had  fallen  in  the  battle;  and  a  festival  of  liberation 
(Elcutheria)  was  celebrated  every  fifth  year.  These  offer- 
ings continued  to  be  brought,  and  the  festival  to  be  held, 
as  late  as  the  2d  century  of  our  era.  With  the  spoils  of  the 
Persian  wars  the  Platinans  raised  a  temple  of  Athene  the 
Warlike.*  The  Peloponnesian  War  began  with  an  attempt 
of  the  Thebans  to  seize  Plataai  (431  B.C.).  The  attempt 
failed,  but  in  427,  after  a  siege  of  about  two  years,  the  city 
was  taken  by  the  Peloponncsians  and  the  garrison  put  to 
the  sword.  The  bulk  of  the  population  had  previously 
taken  refuge  in  Athens.  A  year  afterwards  the  Thebans 
razed  the  city  to  the  giound,  and  built  a  largo  hospice 
close  to  the  old  temple  of  Hera,  to  whom  they  erected  a 
new  temple  100  feet  long.  In  421  the  surviving  Plata.'ann 
received  from  the  Athenians  the  town  of  Scione  in 
Macedonia  as  a  residence,  but  they  had  no  doubt  to  quit 
it  at  the  end  of  the  war  (404).  When  the  peace  of 
Antalcidas  was  concluded  between  Greece  and  Persia 
(387)  Plat«a  was  restored,  but  a  few  years  afterwards  it 
was  surprised  and  destroyed,  except  the  temple.^  by  the 
Thebans  (about  373).     The  Plataeans  were  ogain  received 

>  It  WM  built,  according  to  riiiUrch  (/I  run'.  20),  nfter  thn  b»tllo  of 
Plattoa;  according  to  P»a«»niaa  (ix.  4,  1),  afUr  the  batUa  of  Marafjoa 


178 


P  L  A  —  P  L  A 


at  Athens,  where  they  were  now  admitted  to  full  citizen- 
ship, except  that  they  were  not  eligible  for  the  priesthood 
and  the  archonship.  After  the  battle  of  Chaeronea  (338) 
Philip  of  Macedon  brought  back  the  Plateeans  as  a  counter- 
poise to  the  power  of  Thebes,  but  the  walls  were  not  fully 
restored  till  some  years  later.  Alexander  the  Great,  then 
monarch  of  Asia,  contributed  to  rebuild  them,  in  recog- 
nition, he  declared,  ot  the  services  •which  the  Plateaus 
had  rendered  against  the  Persians  of  old-  With  the  loss 
of  Greek  freedom  Plataea  sank  into  insignificance.  The 
inhabitants  lived  on  the  glories  of  the  past,  and  were 
regarded  as  braggarts  by  the  rest  of  the  Boeotians.  In  the 
6th  century  the  walls  w«re  once  more  restored  by  Justinian. 

The  fullest  description  of  ancient  Plataea  is  that  of  Pausanias, 
who  visited  it  iu  tlio  2d  century.  The  gi'eat  temple  of  Hera^  he 
tells  us,  contained  a  statue  of  Khea  by  Praxiteles;  the  temple 
of  Athene  the  Warlike  was  adorned  with  an  image  of  the'  goddess 
by  Phidias  and  paintings  by  Polygnotus.  Close  to  the  city  gates 
were  the  tombs  of  the  Greeks  who  had  fallen  in  the  battle  of 
Platsea,  and  an  altar  and  image  of  Leus  the  Liberator  in  white 
marble.  The  ruins  of  the  ancient  toivn  lie  about  500  yards  east 
of  the  modern  village  of  Koklila.  They  occupy  a  slightly  elevated 
plateau  forming  a  rude  triangle  about  two  and  a  half  miles  in 
circumference,  of  which  the  apex  to  the  south  almost  touches  the 
great  rocky  slope  of  Cithaeron,  and  the  base  to  the  north  has  a  steep 
though  short  descent  to  the  plain.  The  outer  walls  follow  the 
edge  of  the  plateau,  but  an  inner  cross-wall  divides  it  into  two 
auequal  parts.  The  southern  and  higher  part  is  probably  as  old  as 
the  Persian  wars ;  the  masonry  of  the  northern  parf  is  more  recent, 
and  probably  belongs  to  the  age  of  Philip  and  Alexander.  It  is 
likely  that  these  two  parts  were  never  included  at  the  same  time 
within  the  city  walls,  but  that  the  southern  was  the  ancient  city, 
and  that  at  one  of  the  restoraticns  (perhaps  that  of  387  B.C.)  tte 
northern  and  more  spacious  part  of  the  plateau  was  preferred  as  the 
site.  Within  this  northern  half,  and  close  to  the  northern  wall, 
is  a  terrace  on  which  may  have  stood  the  temple  of  Hera.  The 
north-western  comer  of  the  northern  town  is  portioned  off  by  a 
wall,  and  is  conjectured  to  have  been  the  acropolis  of  the  newer  city. 

See  Dodwell's  Tour  tfirouffh  Ore&ce^  i.  p.  274  sq,\  Leake's  Travels  in  Northern 
Greece,  vul.  ii.  chap.  16 ;  UDd  Barslan's  Qeographie  von  Oriechentand,  vol.  i.  p. 
243  tq. 

PLATK  The  word  plate  (connected  with  the  Greek 
irXari;9,  flat,  the  late  Latin  p?ata  =  lamina,  and  the  Spanish 
plata,  sUver)  is  usually  employed  to  denote  works  in  silver 
or  gold' which  belong  to  any  class  other  than  those  of  per- 
sonal ornaments  or  coins.^ 

On  account  of  the  ease  with  which  it  can  be  worked 
and  the  pure  state  in  which  it  is  generally  found,  it  is  pro- 
bable that  gold  was  the  first  metal  used  by  man ;  and  it 
is  certain  that,  in  some  countries  at  least,  he  attained  to 
the  most  marvellous  skill  in  its  manipulation  at  a  time 
when  the  other  arts  were  in  a  very  elementary  condition. 
As  an_  instance  of  this  we  may  mention  a  sword  of  tho- 
bronze  age,  found  in  a  barrow  near  Stonehenge,  and  now 
in  the  museum  at  Devizes.^  The  hilt  of  this  sword  is 
covered  with  the  most  microscopically  minute  gold  mosaic. 
A  simple  design  is  formed  by  fixing  tesserte,  or  rather  pins, 
of  red  and  yellow  gold  into  the  wooden  core  of  the  handle. 
Incredible  as  it  may  appear,  there  are  more  than  two 
thousand  of  these  gold  tesserie  to  the  square  inch.  The 
use  of  sUver  appears  to  belong  to  a  rather  later  period, 
probably  because,  though  a  widely  spread  metal  in  almost 
all  parts  of  the  world,  it  is  usually  found  in  a  less  pure 
ttate  than  gold,  and  requires  some  skill  to  smelt  and 
refine  it.  Though  both  these  precious  metals  were 
largely  and  skilfully  used  by  prehistoric  races,  they  were 
generally  employed  as  personal  ornaments  or  decorations 
for  weapons.  Except  in  Scandinavian  countries  but  little 
that  can  be  called  "  plate "  has  been  discovered  in  the 
early  barrows  of  the  prehistoric  period  in  western  Europe. 

'  In  mediaeval  English  the  term  "  a  plate  "  was  occasionally  used 
lu  tlie  sense  of  a  silver  vessel.  A  curious  survival  of  this  use  of  the 
word  still  exists  at  Queen's  College,  Oxford,  where  the  servants  may 
yet  be  heard  asking  at  the  battery  for  so  many  "  plates  of  boor,"  that 
is,  silver  t.-inkarJs. 

'  Hoare,  AncUiU  WilUit-e,  1810. 


It  will  be  convenient  to  consider  the  no  less  prenistoric 
gold  and  silver  work  recently  found  at  Troy,  Tiryns,  and 
Mycena  as  forming  a  stage  in  the  history  of  Greek  art. 

Ancient  Egypt. — An  enormous  amount  of  the  precious 
metals  was  annually  brought  as  tribute  to  the  Egyptian 
kings  ;  according  to  Diodorus,  who  quotes  the  authority  of 
Hecatseus,  the  yearly  produce  of  the  royal  gold  and  silver 
mines  amounted  to  thirty-two  millions  of  minae — that  is, 
about  133  millions  sterling  of  modern  money.  Though 
this  estimate  is  probably  an  exaggeration,  the  amount  must 
have  been  very  great.  The  gold  chiefly  came  from  the 
mines  in  the  Bishdri  desert,  about  eighteen  days'  journey 
south-east  of  Kum  Ombos.  These  mines  were  constantly 
vi-orked  down  to  the  time  of  the  Arab  caliphs,  but  now 
appear  to  be  exhausted.  It  is  not  known  where  the  silver 
came  from.  Gold  appears  to  have  been  relatively  more 
abundant  than  silvef,  and  the  difierence  in  value  between 
them  was  very  much  less  than  it  is  now.  Tribute  was  paid  to 
the  Egyptian  kings,  not  in  coined  money,  which  was  then 
unknown,  but  in  rings  or  ingots.  Owing  to  the  Egyptian 
practice  of  burying  with  their  dead  personal  ornaments 
and  jewellery,  rather  than  other  possessions  less  intimately 
connected  with  the  person  of  the  deceased,  but  few  speci- 
mens of  either  gold  or  silver  plate  have  survived  to  our 
times,  whereas  the  amount  of  gold  jewellery  that  has  been 
discovered  is  very  large,  and  shows  the  utmost  amount  of 
skill  in  working  the  precious-  metals.  We  can,  however, 
form  some  notion  of  what  the  larger  works,  such  as  plates 
and  vases  in  gold  and  silver,  were  like  fron\  the  frequent 
representations  of  them  in  mural  sculpture  and  paintings. 
In  many  cases  they  were  extremely  elaborate  and  fanciful 
in  shape,  formed  with  the  bodies  or  heads  of  griffins,  horses, 
and  other  animals  real  or  imaginary.  Others  are  simple 
and  graceful  in  outline,  enriched  vsith  delicate  surface 
ornament  of  leaves,  wave  and 
guilloche  patterns,  hieroglyphs,  or 
sacred  animals.  Fig.  1  shows  a 
gold  vase  of  the  time  of  Thothmes 
III.  (Dynasty  XVIII.,  about  1 500 
B.C.),  taken  from  a  wall-painting 
in  one  of  the  tombs  at  Thebes. 
The  figure  on  its  side  js  the 
hieroglyph  for  "gold."  Others 
appear  to  have  been  very  large  and 
massive,  with  human  figures  in 
silver  or  gold  supporting  a  great 
bowl  or  crater  of  the  same  metal. 

In  the  language  of  the  hiero- 
glyphs silver  is  called  "  white  gold,"  and  gold  is  the  generic 
name  for  money, -r-unlike  most  languages,  in  which  silver 
usually  has  this  special  meaning,- — a  fact  which  points 
strongly  to  the  ptiority  of  the  use  of  gold.  On  the  walls 
of  one  of  the.  tombs  at  Beni  Hassan  there  is  an  interesting 
representation  of  a  gold-  and  silver-smith's  workshop,  show- 
ing the  various  processes  employed — 'weighing,  melting  or 
soldering  with  the  blow-pipe,  refining  the  metal,  and  polish- 
ing the  almost  finished  bowl  or  vase.  In  the  time  of 
Barneses  III.,  about  1300  B.C.,  a  clearly  defined  Assyrian 
influence  appears  in  the  decoration  of  some  of  the  gold 
plate.  A  gold  basket,  represented  in  the  tomb  of  this 
king  at  Thebes,  has  on  its  side  a  relief  of  the  sacred  tree 
between  two  beasts,  the  oldest  of  purely  Aryan  or  Indo- 
European  subjects,  and  quite  foreign  to  Egypt. 

The  chief  existing  specimens  of  Egyptian  plate  are  five 
silver  pkialx  or  bowls,  found  at  the  ancient  Thumuis  in 
the  Delta,  and  now  in  the  Bulak  Museum  (Nos.  482  to  486 
in  the  catalogue).  These  are  modelled  in  the  form  of  a 
lotus  blossom,  most  graceful  in  design,  but  are  apparently 
not  earlier  than  the  5th  century  B.C.  The  Louvre  possesses 
',  a  fine  gold  patera,  6J  inches  across,  with  figure*  A  fiahes 


1.— Gold  Vas''.  from  wall- 
paintings  at  Tliebts. 


PLATE 


179 


svithin  a  lotus  border  in  repoussS  work  ;  an  inscription  on 
'lie  rim  shows  it  to  have  belonged  to  an  officer  of  ThotLraes 
III.  (Mem.  Soc.  Ant.  de  France,  xxiv.  1858). 

Assyrian  and  Phcenicicin  Piute. — Among  the  many 
treasures  of  early  art  found  by  General  Cesnola  in  the 
tombs  of  Cyprus  none  are  of  more  interest  than  a  large 
number  of  Pha^nician  silver  phial:e  or  saucer-like  dishes, 
enriched  with  delicate  repouss6  and  tooled  reliefs,  which 
in  their  design  present  many  characteristics  of  Assyrian 
art  mingled  with  a  more  or  less  strong  Egyptian  influence. 
A  considerable  number  of  bowls  -and  phialfe  found  in 
Assyria  itself  are  so  exactly  similar  to  these  Cyprian  ones, 
both  in  shape  and  ornamentation,  that  they  cannot  but 
be  classed  together  as  the  production  of  the  same  peoi)le 
and  the  same  age.  The  British  Jluseuni  possesses  a  fine 
collection  of  these  bowls,  mostly  found  in  the  palace  at 
Nimrud.  Though  they  are  made  of  bronze,  and  only 
occasionally  ornamented  with  a  few  silver  studs,  they  are 
evidently  the  production  of  artists  who  were  accustomed 
to  work  in  the  precious  metals,  some  of  them  in  fact  being 
almost  identical  in  form  and  design  v.ith  the  silver  phialse 
found  at  Curium  and  elsewhere  in  Cyprus.  They  are 
ornamented  in  a  very  delicate  and  minute  manner,  partly 
by  incised  lines,  and  partly  by  the  repouss^  process,  finally 
completed  by  chasing.  Their  designs  consist  of  a  central 
geometrical  pattern,  with  one  or  more  concentric  bands 
round  it  of  figures  of  gods  and  men,  with  various  animals 
and  plants.  In  these  bands  therfe  is  a  strange  admixture 
of  Assyrian  and  Egyptian  style.  The  main  motives 
belong  to  the  former  class,  the  -principal  groups  being 
purely  Assyrian — such  as  the  sacred  tree  between  the  two 
attendant  beasts,  or  the  king  engaged  in  combat  and  van- 
quishing a  lion  single-handed ;  while  mingled  with  these 
are  figures  and  groups  purely  Egj-ptian  in  style,  such  as 
the  hawk-headed  deity,  or  a  king  ■slaying  a  whole  crowd 
of  captives  at  one  blow.     Fig.  2  gives  a  silver  dish  from 


Fifl.  2.— Silver  Dowl,  «hnul  7  Inches  In  illiimckr.  found  In  a  tomb  In  Cyr™'.  w'l'' 
ix-puussd  reliefs  of  i^gyptUii  and  Aiuyrluii  »tyiu 

Curium  containing  example.")  of  all  the  above  mentioned 
subjects.  Some  of  the  designs  are  exceedingly  beautiful, 
and  are  arranged  with  great  decorative  skill :  a  favourite 
composition  is  that  of  antelopes  walking  in  a  forest  of  tall 
papyrus  plants,  arranged  in  radiating  lines,  so  as  to  suit 
the  circular  phiale,  and  yet  treated  with  ])erfect  grace  and 
freedom.  In  addition  to  the  numerous  silver  pliiahu  some 
were  found,  with  similar  deroratiio,  made  of  pure  gold. 


The  Curium  find  alone  is  said  to  have  included  more  than 
a  thousand  objects  in  gold  and  silver. 

Etruscan  Plate. — The  Etruscan  races  of  Italy  were 
specially  renowned  for  their  skill  in  working  all  the 
metals,  and  above  all  in  their  gold  work.  Large  quanti- 
ties of  the  most  exquisite  gold  jewellery  have  been  found  in 
Etruscan  tombs,  including,  in  addition  to  smaller  objects, 
sceptres,  wreaths  of  olive,  and  massive  head-pieces.  The 
Museo  Kircheriano  in  Rome  possesses  a  magnificent  speci- 
men of  the  last  form  of  ornament;  it  is  covered  with 
nearly  a  hundred  little  statuettes  of  lions  arranged  in 
parallel  rows.^  Little,  however,  that  can  be  classed  under 
the  head  of  plate  has  j'et  been  found.  A  number  of  silver 
bowls  found  in  Etruscan  tombs  have  ornaments  in  the 
Egypto-Assyrian  style,  and  were  probably  imported  into 
Italy  by  the  Phceniclans ;  some  almost  exactly  resemble 
those  found  in  Cyprus. 

The  British  Museum  (gold  ornament  room)  possesses  a 
fine  specimen  of  early  plate  found  at  Agrigentum  in 
Sicily.     This   is  a  gold  phiale  or  bowl,  about  5  inches 


-fe^L 


Fio.  3. — Archaic  Gold  Phiale,  found  at  AgrlRcnium,  novr  In  (he  British  Museonii 
It  Is  shown  In  seclioQ  below.     It  Is  5  Inches  In  diameter. 

across,  with  central  boss  or  omphalos  ((pidXr]  fU(r6/j.<t>aXoi) 
Avhich  seems  once  to  have  contained  a  large  jewel.  Round 
the  inside  of  the  bowl  are  six  figures  of  oxen,  rcpoussiS  in 
relief,  and  at  one  side  a  crescent,  formed  by  punched  dots. 
A  delicate  twisted  moulding  surrounds  the  edge ;  the 
workmanship  of  the  whole  is  very  skilful  (see  fig.  3). 

Ildhnic  Plate. — Discoveries  made  of  late  years  on  the 
plains  of  Troy,  at  MycenK,  and  at  Camirus  in  Rhodes 
have  brought  to  light  a  large  quantity  of  gold  and  silvor 
lilate  of  very  remote  antiquity.  These  early  specimens  of 
plate  are  all  very  similar  in  character,  graceful  in  ,-=hape, 
hammered,  cast,  and  soldered  with  great  skill,  but,  with 
the  exception  of  weapons  and  ornaments,  mo.stly  dcvoU  of 
surface  decoration.  Tlio  most  remarkable  find  wa.s  that 
which  Dr  Schliomann  calls  "  Priam's  treasure,"  including 
a  large  nutnbor  of  silver  vases  ond  bowls,  with  fine  massive 
double-handled  cups  in  gold,  and  a  very  curious  spherical 
gold  bottle.  Fig.  4  shows  a  silver  ruji,  with  gold  mounts, 
found  in  a  tomb  at  Camirus  in  Rhodes,  opparcntly  a  work 
of  the  same  eorly  date  and  class.  Homer's  jwems  are  full 
of  descriptions  of  rich  works  in  both  the  jirccious  mctalr 
{Iliad  xxiii.  741),  showing  thot  the  tasto  for  valuable 
])ieces  of  plate  was  developed  omong  the  Greeks  at  a  vcrj 
early  time — much  more  ho  probably   than  it  wa.s  during 

>  Another,  very  BimlUr,  cxiaU  In  tlio  Vatican  Hiu.  Orcgor. 


180 


PLATE 


the  most  flourishing  period  of  Hellenic  art,  when  the  pro- 
duction of  beautifully  painted  fictile  vases  seems  to  some 
extent  to  have  superseded  the  more  barbaric  magnificence 


f  lo.  4.— Silver  Canthanis  from  Rhodes,  with  gold  mounts.    Possibly  the  lorm  of 
the  Homeric  &ena^  aixifttKvneWov. 

of  gold  and  silver.  During  the  6th  century  B.C.  the 
demand  for  works  of  this  class,  valuable  not  only  for  their 
material  but  for  their  workmanship,  seems  to  have  been 
very  great  under  the  last  dynasty  of  Lydian  kings,  whose 
wealth  in  gold  and  silver  has  become  proverbial.  Crcesus 
especially  encouraged  the  art,  and  paid  enormous  sums  for 
silver  vases  and  cups  to  the  most  repowned  artists  of  his 
time,  such  as  Glaucus  and  Theodorus  tne  Samian. 

Pliny  (iV.  H.,  XKxiii.)  gives  a  valuable  account  of  the 
sources  whence  the  Greeks  and  Romans  derived  their 
precious  metals,  their  methods  of  refining,  and  the  sculptors 
who  were  most  celebrated  for  flieir  skill  in  making  articles 
of  plate.  Among  the  Greeks  and  Romans  the  greatest 
artists  of  the  day  did  not  disdain  to  practise  this  branch 
of  art.  The  same  sculptor  who  produced  noble  and 
colossal  statues  for  the  temples  of  the  gods  would  at 
another  time  put  forth  his  utmost  skill  and  artistic  talent 
in  chasing  and  embossing  some  small  silver  cup  or  vase. 
In  this  way  ancient  pieces  of  plate  ranked  among  the 
most  perfect  productions  of  art — very  different  from  the 
custom  of  the  19th  century,  which  leaves  its  plate  to  be 
executed  by  some  dull  mechanical  craftsman,  after  the 
pompous  designs  supplied  by  a  tradesman  whose  only 
standard  of  merit  appears  to  be  the  pretentiousness  of  the 
design  and  the  number  of  ounces  of  silver  it  contains.- 

In  the  best  times  of  Greek  art,  the  chief  works  in  gold 
and  silver  seem  to  have  been  dedicated  to  religious  pur- 
poses, and  to  have  been  seldom  used  for  the  ostentatious 
pomp  of  private  individuals.  Vessels  for  the  use  of  the 
temples,  tripods  in  gold  or  silver  of  the  richest  work,  and 
statues  of  the  gods  were  the  chief  objects  on  which  the 
p-recious  metals  were  lavished.' 

The  gold  used  by  the  Greeks  probably  came  from  Asia 
Minor  or  Egypt,  while  the  mines  of  Laurium,  in  the 
mountains  which  form  the  promontory  of  Sunium  in 
Attica,  supplied  an  abundant  amount  of  silver  for  many 
centuries.-  According  to  Pliny,  Phidias  was  the  first 
sculptor  who  produced  works  of  great  merit  in  the  precious 
metals ;  he  mentions  a  number  of  other  Greek  artists  who 
were  celebrated  for  this  class  of  work,  but  unluckily  does 
not  give  their  dates.  The  chief  of  these  were  Mentor  and 
Mys  (both  of  the  5th  century  B.C.),  Acragas,  Boethus,  the 
sculptors  Myron  and  Stratonicus,  as  well  as  the  well-known 
Praxiteles  and  Scopas.  In  Pliny's  time  many  works  in  gold 
and  silver  by  these  artists  still  existed  in  Rhodes  aild 
elsewhere.  Among  later  workers  he  specially  mentions 
Zopyrus,  who  made  two  silver  cups,  embossed  with  the  scene 
of  the  judgment  of  Orestes  by  the  Areopagite  court,  and 
Pytheas,  who  made  a  bowl  with  reliefs  of  Ulysses  and  Dio- 
medes  carrying  off  the  Palladium.  Enormous  prices  were 
given  by  wealthy  Romans  for  ancient  silver  plate  made  by 
distinguished  Greek  artists;  according  to  Pliny,  more  than 
;£300  an  ounce  was  paid  for  the  last-mentioned  cup. 

'  The  golij  eagles  on  the  sacred  omphalos  at  Delphi  were  notable 
examples  oftbia;  see  Pindar,  Pyih,  iv,  4. 
*  Boeckh,  Silver  Mines  of  Laurium,  1842. 


Though  a  large  quantity  of  later  Graeco-Roman  plate 
still  exi.sts  in  various  museums,  the  specimens  of  Greek 
silver-work  of  the  best  period  are  extremely  rare,  and 
mostly  unimportant  in  point  of  size.  In  1812  Dr  Lee  dis- 
covered at  Ithaca  a  very  beautiful  vase  or  cyathus  3J 
inches  high  (see  fig.  5)  and  a  phiale  or  patera,  9|  inches 


Fio  6.— Silver  Crater,  found  iu  Ithaca.    8J  inches  iiigi^. 

across,  both  of  silver,  repouss6  and  chased,  with  very  rich 
and  graceful  patterns  of  leaves  and  flowers — suggesting  a 
slight  tinge  of  Assyrian  style.^  These  are  probably  not 
later  than  the  5th  century  B.C.  A  good  many  silver 
mirror-cdses,  with  repouss^  figure-subjects  in  high  relief, 
have  been  found  at  various  places ;  as,  for  instance,  one 
with  a  beautiful  seated  figure 
of  Aphrodite  found  at  Taren- 
tum  and  now  in  the  British 
Museum.*  The  South  Ken- 
sington Museum  contains  a 
most  exquisite  little  silver 
vase  found  in  the  baths  of 
Apollo  at  Vicarello  iu  Italy  ' 
(fig.  6),  enriched  with  a  band 
in  low  relief  of  storks  devour- 
ing serpents,  executed  with 
gem-like  minuteness  and 
finish  —  probably  not  later 
than  the  3rd  century  B.C. 
The  British  Museum  has  a 
little  vase  of  similar  form 
and  almost  equal  beauty, 
though  perhaps  later  in  date ; 
it  is  decorated  with  bands  of 
vine  branches  in  a  graceful 
flowing  pattern,  and  is  partly 
gilt.      The    most    important  ^-^^-G-f^f"-  ^ase,  ^5^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

find    of     Greek    silver     plate,      mental  band  is  shown  below  in  piano. 

mingled     with     pieces     of    <^"""''"'^'°8'°" ^'''^'""^ 
Roman  or  Grseco-Roman  work,  was  that  discovered  in  the 
crypt  of  the  temple  of  ilercury  Augustus,  at  Villeret,  near 
Bernay,  in  France  (tly  ancient  Canetum),  in  1830.^     It 

'  See  Arclimologia,  xxxiii.  36-54.  *  lb.,  xxxiv.  265-72. 

"*  See  Chabouillet,  Catalogue  des  Camees,  iHx.,  de  la  BiUiothiqu* 
Imperiale,  Paris,  1858,  pp.  418-57;  ali.0  Raoul  Rochette,  UmvmienU, 
d'Antiquiti,  p.  272,  and  Leuorjiiaot,  huil.  delV  Iiui..  jlrc^^BoiBij 
1830 


PLATE 


181 


'"onsists  of  silver  vessels  and  two  silver  statuettes,  sixty-nino 
pieces  in  all,  the  gift  of  various  donors  to  the  temple.  It 
is  in  itself  a  small  museum  of  specimens  of  ancient  plate, 
containing  objects  of  great  variety  of  date  and  workmanship, 
from  fine  Greek  work  of  about  300  b.c.  down  to  the  coarser 
Roman  production  of  the  2nd  or  3rd  century  A.D.  The 
shapes  of  the  vessels  composing  this  treasure  are  very 
numerous — ewers,  bowls,  paterae,  large  ladle-shaped  cups, 
and  drinking  cups  with  and  without  handles.  Those  of 
Greek  workmanship  are  in  slight  relief,  while  some  of  the 
Roman  wine-cups  and  bowls  have  heads  and  figures  almost 
detached  from  the  ground  Some  of  these  latter  much 
resemble  some  silver  canthari  found  in  Pompeii.*  The 
dedicatory  Roman  inscriptions,  in  some  cases,  appear  to  be 
later  additions,  made  by  the  various  donors  who  presented 
these  treasures  to  the  temple.^  It  is  interesting  to  note 
that  two  vases  among  the  Bernay  treasure  have  reliefs  of 
the  theft  of  the  Palladium,  like  the  celebrated  cup  by 
Pytheas  mentioned  by  Pliny  ;  another  subject  described 
by  him  as  decorating  silver  plate  by  Zopyrus,  the  judgment 
of  Orestes,  is  represented  on  a  fine  cup  found  at  Antium, 
apparently  of  Greek  design,  which  is  preserved  in  the  Cor- 
sini  Palace  in  Rome.  These  may  possibly  be  copies  from 
originals  by  those  much-renowned  artists. 

Grxco-Roman  and  Roman  Plate. — Of  what  may  be 
called  Grasco-Roman  plate  a  much  larger  number  of 
specimens  still  exist.  Even  during  the  1st  century  the 
growing  pomp  and  ostentation  of  the  wealthy  Romans  led 
to  an  enormoys  demand  for  large  and  elaborate  pieces 
of  plate,  while  their  good  taste  induced  them  to  prefer  the 
■works  of  Greek  coelatores, — a  branch  of  art  which  even  at 
that  time  showed  but  little  signs  of  decay.  It  was  no 
doubt  the  desire  for  objects  which  should  combine  intrinsic 
value  with  artistic  merit,  and  also  be  of  a  more  durable 
sort,  that  by  slow  degrees  gave  the  death-blow  to  the 
art  of  vase  painting.  It  is  not  always  easy  to  distinguish 
the  best  works  in  silver  of  this  Roman  period  from  the 
more  purely  Greek  works  of  an  earlier  time.  They  are 
often  of  the  highest  merit  both  in  design  and  execution. 
The  finest  collection  of  these  was  found  in  1869  at  Hildes- 
heim  in  Hanover,  and  is  now  in  the  Berlin  Museum. 
They  consist  of  a  large  number  of  cups,  bowls,  vases, 
dishes,  and  tripods,  all  of  silver,  some  decorated  with 
gilding  and  enriched  in  the  most  elaborate  way  with  figure 
and  scroll-work  reliefs  of  the  greatest  beauty  and  finish  ; 
these,  except  one  or  two  of  very  rude  work,  can  hardly  be 
later  in  date  than  the  first  century  after  Christ.  The 
most  remarkable  is  a  cylix,  inside  which  a  geometrical 
Greek  border  in  slight  relief  forms  a  frame  for  a  seated 
figure  of  Athene — an  "  emblema  "  soldered  on,  in  very 
high  relief.  The  attitude  of  this  figure,  the  folds  of  the 
drapery,  and  other  details  are  arranged  with  extreme 
grace.  Almost  the  only  point  which  recalls  the  fact  that 
this  exquisite  piece  does  not  belong  to  the  best  period 
of  Greek  art  is  the  very  salient  relief  of  the  figure, 
whereas  in  earlier  times  the  silver-worker  was  content 
with  a  more  moderate  amount  of  relief,  and  thus 
decorated  the  surface  of  his  vessel  without  injuring  its 
main  contour.  A  large  silver  crater  in  the  same  set  (fig.  7) 
is  free  from  this  fault.  It  is  covered  outside  with  delicate 
floral  scroll-work,  growing  in  graceful  curves  all  over  the 
surface  of  the  vessel,-  with  very  slight  projection  from  the 
main  surface,— a  perfect  model  in  every  way  for  the  treat- 
ment of  silver.  Pliny  specially  mentions  the  custom  of 
Roman  generals  and  other  ofiiccrs  travelling  on  military 

*  Quaranta,  QMa^iorrfia  Ka5i  rfM  rt/ento  .  .   ,  /'(jmpc/,  Naples,  1837. 

*  See  a  valuable  paper  on  llii.s  subject  in  the  Journal  of  Jletiaiic 
StudUs'^  vol.  iii.  No.  1,  by  Dr  WaM.stein,  who  attributea  part  of  this 
treasure  to  the  Epbesian  scliool  of  aiti^t.'i,  and  tracca  in  some  of  the 
designs  miniature  reproUuclioni]  of  large  works  uf  Greek  seulpiuru. 


expeditions    with  magnificent   services    of  plate ;    and    it 
appears   probable  that  this   had  been  the  case  with  the 


Fio.  7.— SUvcr  Crater,  15J  inches  high,  from  the  Hildeshelm  linJ. 
(Berlin  Muaeum.) 

Hildesheim  treasure  ;  defeat  or  some  other  disaster  may 
have  forced  the  Roman  owner  to  hide  and  relinquish  the 
whole  set.^ 

The  museum  at  Naples  contains  a  very  large  number  of 
silver  cups  found  in  Pompeii,  encrusted  with  figure-subjects 
or  branches  of  ivy  and  vine  in  relief.  In  cases  of  this  sort 
the  cup  is  made  double,  with  a  smooth  inner  skin  to  hide 
the  sinkings  produced  by  the  repoussd  work  in  relief  on 
the  outside.  Silver  vessels  ornamented  in  relief  were 
called  by  the  Romans  coslata  or  nspn-a,  to  distinguish  them 
from  plain  ones,  which  were;  called  leiia.* 

Among  later  specimens  of  Roman  plate  the  most 
remarkable  is  the  gold  patera,  nearly  10  inches  in  dia- 
meter, found  at  Renuos  in  1777,  and  now  in  the  Paris 
Bibliothfeque— a  work  of  the  most  marvellous  delicacy  and 
high  finish — almost  gem-like  in  its  minuteness  of  detail. 
Though  not  earlier  than  about  210  a.d.,  a  slight  clumsi- 
ness in  the  proportion  of  its  embossed  figures  is  the  only 
visible  sign  of  decadence.  The  outer  rim  is  set  with 
sixteen  fine  gold  coins — ourei  of  various  members  of  the 
Antoninc  family  from  Hadrian  to  Gcta.  The  central 
emblema  or  medallion  represents  the  drinking  contest  be- 
tween Bacchus  and  Ilercule?,  and  round  this  medallion  is 
a  band  of  repousse  figures  showing  the  triumphal  proces- 
sion of  Bacchus  after  winning  the  contest.  He  sits 
triumphant  in  his  leopard-drawn  car,  while  Hercules  is  led 
along,  helplessly  intoxicated,  supported  by  bacchanals.  A 
long  line  of  nymphs,  fauns,  and  satyrs  complete  the 
circular  band. 

The  so-called  "shield  of  Scipio,"  also  in  the  Paris 
Bibliothtque,  which  was  found  in  the  Rhone  near  Avignon, 
is  the  finest  example  of  Roman  plate  of  the  4th  century. 
It  is  not  a  shield,  but  a  large  silver  patera,  about  2G  inches 
in  diameter,  with  a  repoussiJ  relief  representing  the  restora- 
tion of  Briseis  to  Achilles.  The  composition  and  general 
design  are  good,  but  the  execution  is  feeble  and  rather 
coarse. 

»  Darcel,  Trlsor  de  Jlildcsheim,  1870.  The  number  of  gold  and 
silver  statues  in  Ronio  was  very  great.  In  tlio  inscription  of  Ancyra, 
Augu.stu3  records  that  he  melted  do\™  no  less  tlian  SO  silver  statues 
of  himself,  an<l  with  tho  money  thus  obtained  presented  "  golden 
gifts"  to  tho  templo  of  Apollo  I'ulatinus.  See  jl/im.  /Incyr.,  cd. 
MomniBon,  1883. 

*  For  tho  various  classical  metliods  of  working  in  silver  and  giM 
see  Metal- WoiiK. 


182 


PLATE 


The  British  J^Iuseum  possesses  good  specimens  of 
Boman  silver  work  in  its  last  stage  of  decline.  These  are 
two  large  caskets  or  toilet  boxes,  with  silver  unguent  vases,' 
oblong  lances,  paterae,  ewers,  spoons,  and  other  objects,  all 
found  iu  Rome  in  1793.  The  caskets  are  decorated  in 
low  relief  with  somewhat  blunt  repouss6  figures  and  orna- 
ments. The  rim  of  one  casket  is  incised  with  the  follow- 
ing   words — SECUNDE    ET   PKOIECTA    VIVATIS    IN    CHEISTO. 

One  of  the  silver  vases  has  the  words  pelegrina  vtere 
FELIX."  The  legend  on  the  casket,  and  the  if'  which 
appears  among  the  ornaments,  show  that  it  wras  made  for 
%  Roman  lady,  named  Projecta,  who  was  a  Christian  ;  her 
portrait,  together  with  that  of  her  husband  Secundus,  is 
on  the  centre  of  the  lid  in  a  medallion  supported  by  two 
cupids.  With  the  exception  of  a  pair  of  small  silver  two- 
handled  vases,  undecorated,  but  of  the  purest  Greek-like 
form,  these  various  pieces  of  silver  work  probably  date 
irom  the  5th  century.^ 

Plate  from  the  Ciimea. — The  finest  collection  of  early 
gold  and  silver  plate  is  that  in  the  Musee  de  I'Ermitage  at 
St  Petersburg,  the  result  of  many  years'  excavation  in  the 
tombs  of  the  Cimiperian  Bosphorus.^  !Most  of  these 
magnificent  pieces  of  plate,  both  in  style  of  workmanship 
and  the  character  of  their  decoration,  resemble  the  work 
of  Greek  artists ;  in  some  cases  nothing  but  the  costume 
of  the  figures  embossed  upon  them  shows  that  they  were 
not  produced  in  Athens. 

The  earliest  in  style  is  a  massive  gold  phiale  ((judXri 
/x€cro/i<^a\os)  covered  with  the  richest  and  most  minute 
surface  ornament.  The  motive  of  the  design  is  taken  from 
an  open  lotus  flower ;  the  petals  form  radiating  lobes,  and 
these  petals  are  entirely  covered' with  delicate  scroll-work, 
surrounding  Greek-like  gorgons'  heads,  and  other  smaller 
heads,  savage-looking  and  bearded  •  Though  perhaps 
rather  overloaded  with  ornament,  this  "beautiful  phiale, 
which  shows  strong  traces  of  Phoenician  or  Assyrian 
influence,  is  a  real  masterpiece  of  decorative  design.  Of 
later  date,  probably  4th  century  B.C.,  is  a  small  gold  bottle, 
Hellenic  in  form,  but  ornamented  with  a  band  of  non- 
Hellenic  figures  in  relief — Scythian  bowmen,  as  their  dress 
clearly  shows.  The  grandest  piece  of  all  is  a  large  silver 
amphora,  of  about  the  same  date,  shaped  like  the  Greek 
fictile  amphorie,  and  ornamented  with  a  beautiful  flowing 
pattern,  of  pure  Hellenic  honeysuckle  form,  mingled  with 
birds  and  very  highly  projecting  animals'  heads.  On  the 
shoulder  of  the  vase  there  is  a  band  of  Scythians  and 
horses,  executed  with  great  spirit  and  refinement.'  It  is 
difficult  to  believe  that  this  splendid  vase,  so  graceful  in 
outline,  and  so  pure  iu  its  decoration,  was  not  produced 
by  some  famous  Athenian  toreiites. 

Oriental  Plate. — Some  very  curious  pieces  of  plate  both 
in  gold  and  silver  have  been  found  in  northern  India;  these 
appear  to  be  of  native  workmanship,  but  the  subjects  with 
which  they  are  embossed,  and  the  modelling  of  the  figures, 
show  that  they  were  produced  under  late  Roman  influence, 
or  in  some  cases  possibly  even  Greek  influence  in  a  highly 
degraded  state,  handed  down  from  the  time  of  Alexander's 
Indian  conquests. 

Under  the  Sasanian  kings  of  Persia  (from  the  3rd  to 
6th  centiu-ies)  very  massive  and  richly  decorated  gold 
vases,  bowls,  and  bottles  were  made  (fig.  8).  Those  which 
still  exist  show  a  curious  mingling  of  ancient  Assyrian  art 
with  that  of  Rome  in  its  decline.  Reliefs  representing 
winged  lions,  or  the  sacred  tree  between  its  attendant 
beasts,    alternate  with  subjects  from  Roman  mythology, 

'  Visconti,  Una  Supdleltile  d'Argenlo,  Eome,  1825. 

^  See  Stepbani,  Aniiquites  du  Dosphore  Cimmtrien,  1854,  and 
Compte-rendu  de  la  Commission  ImperiaU,  St  Petersburg,  1859,  and 
alill  in  progress. 

'  Gaz.  des  B.  Arts,  xxv.  19-39,  1882 


such  as  the  rape  of  Ganymede;  but  all  are  treated  alik* 
with  much  originality,  and  in  a  highly  decorative  manner. 
The  Paris  Bibliotheque  and  the  Vienna  Museum  contain 
some  fine  specimens. 

.The  gold  and  silver  work  of  Russia  resembles  in  style 
that  of  Byzantium  at  an  early  period.  Shrines  and  other 
magnificent  pieces  of  plate  in  the  treasm-y  of  the  cathedral 
at  Moscow  (see  Weltmann,  Le  trC-sor  de  3Iosco7t,  1861), 
though  e.xecuted  at  the  end  of  the  15th  century,  are 
exactly  similar  in  design  to  Byzantine  work  of  the  11th  or 
12th' century,  and  even  since  theu  but  little  change  or 
development  of  style  has  taken  place. 

The  caUphs  of  Baghdad,  the  sultans  of  Egypt,  and  other 
Moslem  rulers  were  once  famed  for  their  rich  stores  of 
plate,  which  was  probably  of  extreme  beauty  both  in 
design  and  workmanship.  Little  or  nothing  of  this  Moslem 
plate  now  remains,  and  it  is  only  possible  to  judge  of  its 
style  and  magnificence  from  the  fine  works  in  brass  and 
other  less  valuable  metals  which  have  survived  to  our 
time. 

£arly  Medieval  Plate. — The  Gothic,  Gaulish,  and  other 
semi-barbarian   peoples,    who   in   the  6th   century   were 


Fig.  3.  _  Fig.  9. 

Fio.  8.— Sasanian  GoI4  Bottle,  atont  10  inches  hich.    In  the  Vienna  Museum. 
Flo.  9.— Gold  Ewer,  15  inches  high,  from  the  Fetrossa  treasure. 

masters  of  Spain,  France,  ana  parts  of  central  Europe, 
produced  great  quantities  of  work  in  the  precious  metals, 
especially  gold,  often  of  great  magnificence  of  design  and 
not  without  some  skill  in  workmanship.  In  1837  a  large 
number  of  pieces  of  very  massive  gold  plate  were  found  at 
Petrossa  in  Roumania ;  much  of  this  find  was  unfortun- 
ately broken  up  and  melted,  but  a  considerable  portion 
was  saved,  and  is  now  in  the  museum  at  Bucharest. 
These  magnificent  objects  are  all  of  solid  gold,  and  consist 
of  large  dishes,  vases,  ewers,  baskets  of  open  work,  and 
personal  ornaments  (fig.  9).  Some  of  them  show  a  strong 
Roman  influence  in  their  design,  others  are  more  purely 
barbaric  in  style.  To  the  first  of  these  classes  belongs  a 
very  fine  phiale  or  patera,  10  inches  in  diameter.  In  the 
centre  is  a  seated  statuette  of  a  goddess,  holding  a  cuj), 
while  all  round,  in  high  relief,  are  standing  figures  of 
various  male  and  female  deities,  purely  Roman  in  style. 
Though  the  execution  is  somewhat  clumsy,  there  is  much 
reminiscence  of  classical  grace  in  the  attitudes  and  drapery 
of  these  figures.  A  large  basket  and  other  pieces,  made 
of  square  bars  of  gold  arranged  so  as  to  form  an  opcu 
pattern  of  stiff  geometrical  design,  have  nothing  in 
common    with  the    vessels    in  which  Roman  influence  is 


PLATE 


183 


apparent,  and  can  hardly  be  the  work  of  the  same  school 
■  f  goldsmiths.'  The  date  of  this  Petrossa  treasure  is 
apposed  to  be  the  6th  century.  The  celebrated  Grourdon 
_'old  cup  and  tray  now  preserved  in  Paris  belong  to  about 
the  same  date.  They  are  very  rich  and  magnificent,  quite 
free  from  any  survival  of  classic  influence,  and  in  style 
resemble  the  Aferovingian  gold  work  which  was  found  in 
the  tomb  of  Childeric  I.  The  cup  is  three  inches  high, 
shaped  like  a  miniature  two-handled  chalice ;  its  com- 
panion oblong  tray  or  plate  has  a  large  cross  in  high  relief 
in  the  centre.  They  are  elaborately  crnaniented  with 
inlaid  work  of  turquoises  and  gacflets,  and  delicate  filigree 
patterns  in  goM,  soldered  on. 

In  the  6th  century  Byzantium  was  the  chief  centre  for 
the  production  of  large  and  magnificent  works  in  the 
precious  metals.  The-  religious  fervour  and  the  great 
wealth  of  Justinian  and  his  successors  filled  the  churches 
of  Byzantium,  not  only  with  enormous  quantities  of  gold 
and  silver  chalices,  shrines,  and  other  smaller  pieces  of 
ecclesiastical  plate,  but  even  large  altars,  with  tall  pillared 
baldacchini  over  them,  fonts,  massive  candelabra,  statues, 
and  high  screens,  all  made  of  the  precious  metals.  The 
wealth  and  artistic  splendour  with  which  St.  Peter's  in 
Rome  and  St  Sophia  in  Constantinople  were  enriched  is 
now  almost  inconceivable.  To  read  the  mere  inventories 
of  these  treasures  dazzles  the  imar;ination, — such  as  that 
given  in  the  Liber  Poniijicalis  of  Anastasius  Bibliothe- 
cariuSj  which  includes  the  long  list  of  treasures  given  by 
Constantine  to  St  Peter's  before  he  transferred  his  scat  of 
empire  to  Byzantium  (330),  and  the  scarcely  less  wonder- 
ful list  of  gold  and  silver  plate  presented  to  the  same 
basilica  by  Pope  Synlmachus  (498-514).'^ 

During    the    7th     century  France    and    other  Western 

countries  were  but  little  behind  Italy  and  Byzantium  in 

their    production    of    massive    works,    both    secular   and 

religious,  in  the  precious  metals.     St  Eloy,  the  French  gold- 

iiith  bishop,  made  a  number  of  most  splendid  shrines  and 

'her  sacred  furniture  in  beaten  gold — among  them  large 

irinos'  for  the  relics  of  St  Denis,  St  Genevieve,  and  St 

1  irtin,  as  well  as  gold  thrones,  plate,  and  jewellery  for  the 

'  rench  kings  Clothaire  II.  and  Dagobert  I.     At  this  time 

.  cry  cathedral  or  abbey  church  in  Germany,  France,  and 

en  England  began  to  accumulate  rich  treasures  of  every 

iiid  in  gold  and  silver,  enriched  with  jewels  and  enamel; 

but  few  specimens,  however,  still  exist  of  the  work  of  this 

early  period.     The  most  notable  are  Charlemagne's  regalia  ^ 

and  other  treasures  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  a  few  j)rcscrvcd  at 

St  Peter's  in  Rome,  and  the  remarkable  set  of  ecclesiastical 

utensils  which  still  exist  in  the  cathedral  of  ilonza  near 

Milan — the  gift  of  Queen  Theodelinda  in  the  early  part  of 

the  7th  century.'' 

The  existing  examples  of  magnificent  early  work  in  the 
precious  metals  mostly  belong  to  a  somewhat  later  period. 
The  chief  are  the  gold  and  silver  altar  in  Sant'  Ambrogio 
at  Milan,  of  the  9th  century;  the  "  Pala  d'Oro,"  or  gold 
rctable,  in  St  ilark's  at  Venice,  begun  in  the  10th  century 
(see  Metal-Work);  and  the  gold  altar  frontal  given  by 
the  emperor  Henry  II.  and  his  wife  Cunigundc,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  11th  century,  to  the  cathedral  at  Basel. 
Tlie  last  is  about  4  feet  high  by  6  feet  long,  repQUSs(5  in 
high  relief,  with  figures  of  Christ,  the  three  archangels, 
ami  St  Benedict,  standing  under  an  arcade  of  round  arches  ; 
it  is  now  iri  the  Cluny  Museum  in  Paris.''  ■  A  similar  gold 
frontal,  of  cqiuU  splendour,  was  that  made  for  the  arch- 
bishoi;  nl  Sens  in"999.     This  was  melted  down  by  Louis 


■nstn,  1809. 


'  Soilcii  Smith,  Tirasnre  o/  Prln.,^..,  .„„.,. 

'  Sco  D'Acincourt,  llhlnircde  I'Ail,  1823. 

'  Bock,  liic  Klfinntlirn  lUs  hell.  r^niuscUcn  Rcklus,  ISCJ. 

*  <\rrli.  Jinir.,  xiv.  8. 

■  ^lichwolo^ia,  XX-..  1  1 1    IS. 


XV.  in  1760,  but  fortunately  a  drawing  of  it  was  preserved, 
and  is  p\iblished  by  Du  Sonmierard  {Album,  9th  series, 
pi.  xiii.). 

A  most  valuable  description  of  the  various  methods  of 
work  practised  by  gold-  and  silver-smiths  in  the  11th  and 
12th  centuries  is  given  by  the  monk  Theophilus  in  hii 
Diversarwa  Artium  Schedula  (Hendrie's  ed.,  1847).  He 
minntely  describes  every  possible  process  that  could  bo 
employed  in  making  and  ornamenting  elaborate  pieces  of 
ecclesiastical  plate — such  as  smelting,  refining,  hammering, 
chasing  and  repoussd  work,  soldering,  casting  (by  the 
"cire  perdue"  process),  wire-drawing,  gilding  with  mercury 
amalgam,  and  the  application  of  niello,  enamel,  and  gems. 

The  silversmith  of  those  days,  as  in  classical  times,  was 
not  only  a  thorough  artist  with  a  complete  sense  of  beauty 
and  fitness  in  his  work,  but  he  was  also  a  craftsman  of 
the  most  varied  fertility  of  resource,  and  made  himself 
thoroughly  responsible  for  every  part  qf  his  work  and 
every  stage  through  which  it  passed, — a  most  striking 
contrast  to  the  modern  subdivision  of  labour,  and  eager- 
ness to  produce  a  show  of  neatness  without  regard  to  rea^ 
excellence  of  work,  which  is  the  curse  of  all  19th-centurj 
handicrafts,  and  one  of  the  main  reasons  why  our' modern 
productions  are  in  the  main  neither  works  of  true  art  nor 
objects  of  real  lasting  utility. 

Italian  Plate. — Before  the  latter  part  of  the  15t]i 
century,  large  pieces  of  silver  work  were  made  more  for 
ecclesiastical  use  than  for  the  gratification  of  private 
luxuiy.  Tlie  great  silver  shrine  in  Orvieto  cathedral, 
made  to  contain  the  blood-stained  corporal  of  the  famous 
Bolsena  miracle,  is  one  of  the  chief  of  these.  It  is  a  very 
large  and  elaborate  work  in  solid  silver,  made  to  imitate 
the  west  front  of  a  cathedral,  and  decorated  in  the  most 
.sumptuous  way  with  figures  cast  and  chased  in  relief,  and 
a  wonderful  series  of  miniature-like  pictures  embossed  in 
low  relief  and  covered  with  translucent  enamels  of  various 
brilliant  colours.  This  splendid  piece  of  .silver  work  was 
executed  about  1338  by  Ugolino  da  Siena  and  his  pupils- 
The  other  most  important  pieces  of  silver  work  in  Italy 
are  the  frontal  and  rctable  of  St  James  in  the  cathedral  at 
Pistoia,  and  the.  altar  of  San  Giovanni  at  Florence  (see 
ilETyU.-Wo'RK).  On  these  two  works  were  employed  a 
whole  series  of  the  chief  Tuscan  artists  of  the  14th  and 
15th  centuries,  many  of  whom,  though  of  great  reputation 
in  other  branches  of  art,  such  as  painting,  sculpture  on  i) 
large  scale,  and  architecture,  did  not  disdain  to  devote  theii 
utmost  skill,  and  years  of  labour,  to  work  which  we  nowa's 
a  rule  consign  to  craftsmen  of  the  very  smallest  capacity. 

Among  the  distinguished  names  of  Florentines  whq 
during  the  space  of  one  century  only,  the  15th,  worked  \x\ 
gold  and  silver,  the  following  may  be  given  to  suggest  the 
high  rank  which  this  class  of  work  took  among  the  arts  : — ■ 
Brunellcschi,  Ghiberti,  Donatello,  Luca  della  Robbin,  th« 
two  Pollaiuoli,  Verrpcchio,  Jlichelozzo,  Ghirhmdaio,  Botti- 
celli, Lorenzo  di  Ci'edi,  Baceio  Baldini,  and  Francia.  The 
cities  of  Italy  which  chiefly  excelled  in  this  religious  and 
beautiful  class  of  silver-work  during  the  14th  and  15th 
centuries  were  Florence,  Siena,  .\rczzo,  Pisa,  and  "Pistoia. 

Owing  to  the  demoralization  and  incrcnso'of  luxury 
which  grew  fii  Italy  with  such  stailling  rapidity  duriny 
the  early  years  of  the  16th  century,  the  wealth  and  artistii 
skill  which  in  the  previous  centuries  had  been  mainly 
devoted  to  religious  objects  were  diverted  into  a  different 
channel,  and  became  for  the  niost''part  absorbed  in.tho 
production  of  magnificent  pieces  of  plate — vasea,  ewers, 
dishes,  and  the  like — of  large  size,  and  decorated  in  th<s 
most  lavish  way  with  the  fanciful  and  ovcrluxuriani 
forms  of  ornament  jntroduccd  by  the  already  declining 
taste  of  the  lienaissancc.  This  demand  created  a  new 
school  of  metalworkers,  niuon>'  wlinnv  Bcnvonuto  Cellini 


184 


P  L  A  T  E 


(1501)^1571)  was  perhaps  the  ablest,  and  certainly  the 
ihosi*  nroniinent.  His  graphic  and  often  shameless  auto- 
"fetiDgraphy  makes  him  one  o(  the  foremost  and  most  vivid 
figures  of  this  wonderful  16th  century,  in  which  the  most 
bestial  self-indulgence  was  mingled  with  the  keenest 
enthusiasm  for  art.  Cellini's  work  is  always  perfect  in 
execution,  but  very  unequal  in  merit  of  design  ;  some  of 
his  silver  pieces,  such  as  the  large  salt-cellar  made  for 
Francis  I.,  are  much  marred  by  an  attempt  to  produce 
a  massive  grandeur  of  effect,  on  a  scale  and  in  a  material 
quite  unsuited  to  such  ambitious  and  sculpturesque  effects. 
Cellini's  influence  on  the  design  of  silver  plate  was  very 
great,  not  only  in  Italy  and  France,  where  his  life  was 
spent,  but  also  on  the  great  silversmiths  of  Augsburg  and 
Nuremberg,  many  of  whose  finest  pieces  are  often  attri- 
buted to  Cellini.'  During  the  17th  and  even  the  18th 
centuries  fine  pieces  of  plate  were  produced  in  Italy, 
many  of  them  still  retaining  some  of  the  grace  and  refine- 
ment of  the  earlier  Renaissance. 

Germany. — From  very  early  times  Germany  was  speci- 
ally famed  for  its  w'orks  in  the  precious  metals,  mostly,  as 
in  other  countries, 
for  ecclesiastical  use. 
In  the  15th  century 
a  large  quantity  of 
secular  plate  was  pro- 
duced, of  very  beauti- 
ful design  and  the 
most  skilful  work- 
manship. Tall  cov- 
ered cups  or  hanaps 
on  slender  stems, 
modelled  with  a 
series  of  bosses  some- 
thing like  a  pineapple 
and  surmounted  by 
a  cleverly  wrought 
flower,  or  beakers, 
cylindrical  tankards 
with  lids,  enriched 
with  delicate  Gothic 
cresting  or  applied 
foliage,  are  the  most 
beautiful  in  form  and 
decoration.  On  the 
lids  of  these  cups 
are  frequently  placed 
heraldic  figures,  hold- 
ing shields  with  the 
owner's  arms,  modelled  and  cast  with  great  spirit  and 
finish.  One  celebrated  silver  beaker,  of  about  1 400,  now 
in  the  South  Kensington  Museum  (fig.  10),  is  ornamented 
with  Gothic  traceried  windows  filled  in  with  translucent 
enamels.'  Another,^  rather  later  in  date,  preserved  in  the 
print  room  of  the  British  Museum,  is  covered  with  figures 
and  foliage  in  minute  niello  work,  a  most  elaborate  and 
splendid  piece  of  plate. 

During  the  first  half  of  the  16th  century  Augsburg  and 
Nuremberg,  long  celebrated  for  their  silver  work,  developed 
a  school  of  artists  in  plate  whose  productions  are  of  the 
most  unrivalled  beauty,  at  once  graceful  in  general  form 
and  decorated  in  slight  relief  with  arabesques,  strap-work, 
wreaths,  and  figure  subjects  arranged  with  the  utmost 
good  taste,  and  modelled  and  chased  with  the  most  perfect 
precision  of  touch.  Though  influenced  by  the  contempo- 
rary silver-work  of  Italy,  the  works  of  Paul  Flint,  Wenzel 

'  See  the  valuable  work  liy  Eugi-iie  Plon,  Ben.  Cellini,  sa  riV,  etc., 
Paris,  1S83;  also  Cellini's  o\ra  work.  Sell'  Orefceria,  156S. 
-  Shaw,  Decnrative  Arts  o,f  the  Middle  Ages,  1851. 
•Shaw,  Dresses  and  Dicoiull'nis  ifthe  Muhlle  Ages,  1858. 


Fig.  10. — Silver  Beaker,  decorated  with  open  work, 
filled  in  with  translucent  enamels.  German  or 
Flemish,  of  the  isth  century.    (S.  K.  M.) 


[G.  11. — Sih-er  Cup.  S|  inches  hi^h,  vsuallx 
atti'ibuted  to  J.imnirzyr,  but  more  piobably  bjr 
Paul  Flint.  Made  at  Kurembtrg  about  tlitt 
middle  of  the  ICtli  century.     (S.  K.  M.) 


Jamnitzer  (1508-1585),  and  Theodor  de  Bry  of  Lieg» 
(1528-98)  are  free  from  the  extravagance  of  outline  and 
over-elaboration  of  detail  which  often  disfigure  the  grand 
silver  pieces  of  men  like  Cellini  (see  fig.  11).  In  German;| 
the  traditions  of  earlier 
Gothic  art  were  less 
rapidly  broken  with ; 
and  many  purely 
Gothic  forms  survived 
there  till  quite  the  end 
of  the  IGth  century. 
In  the  first  half  of 
the  17th  century  the 
technical  skill  of  the 
German  silversmiths 
reached  its  highest 
point  of  perfection,  but 
there  was  some  falling 
off  in  their  designs, 
which  rapidly  lost 
their  purity  of  outline. 
Switzerland  produced 
several  silversmiths 
whose  work  is  similar 
to  that  of  this  German 
school,  especially  their 
large  plateau.x  and 
ewers,  most  richly  and 
gracefully  covered  with 
ornament,  all  finished 
with  almost  gem-like' 
minuteness.  The  prin- 
cipal among  these  art- 
ists was  Francjois  Briot,  all  of  whose  productions  are  of 
extreme  beauty.  The  majority  of  his  existing  works  aro 
not  in  silver,  but  in  pewter, 
and  thus  by  their  absence  of 
intrinsic  value  have  escaped 
the  melting  pot  (fig.  12) 
Gaspar  Enderlein  was  an- 
other workman  of  this 
school,  whose  productions 
cannot  alwaj's  be  distin- 
guished from  those  of  Briot. 
Though  born  in  Switzerland, 
these  artists  really  belong  to 
the  great  Augsburg  and 
Nuremberg  school. 

Many  of  the  famous  15th 
and  16th  century  painters, 
such  as  Martin  Schon,  Israel 
von  Mecken,  and  Holbein, 
used  to  supply  the  silver- 
workers  with  elaborate  de- 
signs for  plate.  Virgil  Soils 
of  Nuremberg  (1514-1562) 
was  especially  fertile  in  this 
sort  of  invention,  and  exe- 
cutedahrge  seriesof  etchings 
of  designs  for  vases,  cups, 
ewers,  tazze,  and  all  sorts  of 
plate.'* 

o       ■  rpi  1        A       *r.      Fig.  1-2.— twer  by  Fianc'is  bnot.  abo«l 

iipain. InrOUgllOUt      the      lO  inches  lilgh.    Middle  ot  16th  «•»• 

Middle     Ages     Spain     was     ""■/. 

remarkable  for  its  large  and  magnificent  works  in  the 
precious  metals.  The  cathedral  of  Gerona  still  possesses  a. 
most  massive  silver  rotable,  made  by  a  Valcncian  silver- 
smith   called    Peter   Bcrnoc.     The  gold   and  silver  altar- 


■'  See  twenty-j:ie  laciimiks  of  these  rare  eteliiiiga  published  by  J. 
Bimell,  Lomlon,  1862. 


PLATE 


185 


frontal,  a  work  of  the  11th  century,  was  carried  off  from 
this  cathedral  by  the  French  in  the  present  century. 
Another  very  large  and  beautiful  piece  of  silver  work  i? 
the  throne.  Northern  Gothic  in  style,  made  for  King 
Martin  of  Aragon,  about  1400,  and  now  preserved  in  Bar- 
celona cathedral.  Till  after  1500  little  that  is  distinctively 
Spanish  appears  in  the  style  of  their  silver  work.  At  first 
Moorish  influence,  and  then  that  of  France  and  Germany, 
appear  to  have  been  paramount.  It  is  not  till  the  IGth 
century  that  a  really  Spanish  school  of  art  was  developed; 
and  the  discovery  of  America  with  its  rich  stores  of  gold 
and  silver  gave  an  enormous  impetus  to  this  class  of  work.^ 
The  "  custodia,"  or  tabernacle  for  the  host,  in  many  of  the 
Spanish  cathedrals,  is  a  large  and  massive  object,  decorated 
in  a  very  gorgeous  though  somewhat  debased  style.  In 
spite  of  the  plundering  of  the  French,  even  now  no 
country  is  so  rich  in  ecclesiastical  plate  as  Spain. 

England. — The  Celtic  races  of  both  England  and  Ireland 
appear  to  have  possessed   great  wealth  in  gold  and  silver, 
but  especially  the    former.      It  seems,  however,  to  have 
been   mostly  used    in  the   manufacture  of  personal    orna- 
ments, such  as  torques,   fibulae,  and  thei  like.     A  magni- 
ficent suit  of  gold  armour,   repouss6  with  simple  patterns 
of  lines  and  dots,  was  found  some  years  ago  at  Mold  in 
Flintshire,  and    is    now  in    the    British    Museum. ^     The 
amount  of  gold  jewellery  found  in  Ireland  during  the  past 
century  has  been  enormous  ;  but,  owing  to  the  unfortunate 
law   of    "treasure-trove,"    by    far   the    greater   part   was 
immediately  melted  down  by  the  finders.     Little  of  this 
period  that  can  be  called  plate  has  been  discovered  in  the 
British    Isles, — unlike  Denmark  and  other   Scandinavian 
countries,   where   the   excavation  of  tombs  has  in  many 
cases   yielded    rich  res-ults    in   the   way  of  massive  cups, 
bowls,  ladles,  and  horns  of   solid  gold,  mostly  decorated 
with  simple  designs  of  spirals,  concentric  circles,  or  inter- 
laced grotesques.     Others    are    of  silver,  parcel-gilt,  and 
some  have  figure  subjects  in  low  relief  (fig.   1 3).     In  like 
manner,  during  the  Saxon 
period,   though    gold    and 
silver  jewellery   was  com- 
mon, yet  little  plate  appears 
to  have  been  made,  with 
the    exception   of    shrines, 
altar-frontals,    and    vessels 
for    ecclesiastical    use,    of 
which      every      important 
church   in    England    must 
have  posseslsed  a  magnifi- 
cent stock.      With   regard 
to    English  secular    plate, 
though  but  few  early  ex- 
amples still  exist,  we  know 
frum  various  records,  such 
us    wills   and    inventories, 
that  the  14  th  century  was 
one  in  which  every  rich  lord 


348  marks  of  gold.  The  English  silvetsmiths  of  this 
period  were  highly  skilled  in  theii'  art,  and  produced 
objects  of  great  beauty  both  in  design  and  workmanship. 
One  of  the  finest  specimens  of  late  14th  century  plate 
which  still  exists  is  a  silver  cup  belonging  to  the  mayor 
and  corporation  of  King's  Lynn.  It  is  graceful  and 
chalice-like  in  form,  skilfully  chased,  and  decorated  in 
a  very  rich  and  elaborate  way  with  coloured  translucent 
enamels  (fig.  14)  of  ladies  and  youths,  several  with  hawks 
on  their  wrists.^  Silver  salt- 
cellars were  among  the  most  ela- 
borate pieces  of  plate   produced 


Fio.  n.— silver  Cup,  4J  Inches  lilgh,  with 
embossed  gold  Land  ;  found  In  a  kvuvc 
lu  tlio  cast  of  Sccland  (Denmark).  This 
cup  dates  from  tho  earlier  pai'l  of  the 
Iron  Age. 

or  burgher  prided  himself  on  his  fine  and  ma.ssive  collection 
of  silver  vessels  ;  on  festive  occasions  this  was  displayed,  not 
only  on  the  dinner-table,  but  also  on  sideboards,  arranged 
with  tiers  of  steps,  one  above  the  other,  so  as  to  show  off  to 
advantage  the  weighty  silver  vases,  flagons,  and  di.shc.s  with 
which  it  was  loaded.  The  central  object  on  every  rich 
man's  table  was  the  "  nef " — a  large  silver  casket,  usually 
(as  the  name  suggests)  in  the  form  of  a  ship,  and  arranged 
to  contain  the  host's  napkin,  goblet,  spoon,  and  knife,  with 
an  assortment  of  spices  and  salt.'  Groat  sums  were  often 
spent  on  this  largo  and  elaborate  piece  of  plate,  e.f/.,  one 
inad&-for  tho  duke  of  Anjou  in  tho  14th  century  weighed 

•  See    Riaho,    Industrial    Arts   in    Sjxiin,   1879  ;    and    D.ivillier, 
Var/ivrtrie  en  Espagne,  1379.  '  ArclxmoL.  x.\vi.  422. 


Fig.  14.  1  ig-  15. 

Fio.  14.— Silver  Cup,  with  translucent  enamels.  Kobalily  French  work  of  th» 

*4th  century.  ^             ..   .     .  ■ 

'•'Fio.  15.— SUvergilt  Salt-ceHar,  14J  Inches  high.  Given  to  New  College,  Oxford, 
In  1493. 

during  the  ISth  century.  Several  colleges  at  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  still  possess  fine  specimens  of  these  (fig.  15); 
the  favourite  shape  was  a  kind  of  liour:glass  form  richly, 
ornamented  with  spiral  fluting  or  bosses. 

But  few  existing  specimens  of  English  plate  are  oldeo 
than  the  beginning  of  the  15th  century.  Among  the  few 
that  remain  the  principal  are  two  or  three  chalices — such 
as  the  two  large  gold  ones  found  in  the  coflin  of  an 
arclibi.shop  of  York,  now  used  for  holy  communion  in 
the  cathedral,  and  a  fine  silver  chalice  from  the  church  of 
Berwick  St  James,  Wilts,  now  in  tho  British  Museum. 
Both  this  and  the  York  chalices,  are  devoid  of  ornament, 
but,  judging  from  their  shape,  appear  to  bo  of  the  12th  or 
13th  century.'' 

It  is  interesting  to  nolo  the  various  changes  of  form  tli rough 
wliich  the  ecclesiastical  elialice  passed  from  early  Christian  times 
till  the  16th  century.  It  was  at  first  on  ordinary  secular  cup 
{fig.  10,  A),  with  two  handles  classical  in  form,  and  of  large 
capacitv,  because  the  laity  as  well  ns  the  clergy  received  tho  wino. 
The  double  handles  were  of  iiracticnl  use  in  passing  the  cup  round 
like  a  modem  "  loving  cup."  Tho  first  altoration  was  tlio  omission 
of  the  handles,  so  that  it  took  the  form  B,  with  largo  licmi- 
spborical  bowl,  a  round  foot,  and  a  Knopfor  security  in  holding  it 
For  ■  some  centuries  it  appears  to  have  been  the  custom  for  the 
priest  to  hold  tbo  clialicc,  while  the  coinniunicant  sucked  the  win6 
througli  a.  silver  tube  or  "  fiatnla."    Some  of  tho  most  mngiiificent 

'  See  Carter,  Specimens  of  Ancient  Sculpture,  i-c,  1838. 

*  Among  tho  most  important  existing  «i>eciinon«  are  tlio  solid  goW 
chalice  and  paten  preserved  at  Corpus  Cliristi  College,  Oxford,  tli« 
gift  of  tho  founder,  Bisliop  Fox.  Tlicso  have  tlic  year-mark  K  fo« 
15Q7-8      Sec  Ouarl.  Kcv..  c\l.  p.  3.13. 


T.I-' 


186 


PLATE 


«arly  examples  of  tliis  form  of  chalice  have  the  Dowl  mounted  in 
bands,  set  with  jewels,  and  enriched  with  minute  filigree  work,— a 
design  which  appears  to  have  been  taken  from  those  cups,  such  as 
the  four  magnificent  examples  in  the  treasury  of  St  Mark's  at 
Venice,  which  have  their  bowl  cut  out  of  crystal,  onyx,  or  some 
other  precious  stone.'  The  finest  examples  of  this  class  arc  the 
Ardagh  chalice,  now  in  .the  Dublin  Museum,  and  the  chalice  of 
St  Eemigius,  in  Rheims  cathedral ;  both  are  most  magnificent 
specimens  of  the  taste  and  skill  of  llth-eentury  goldsmiths. 
C  shows  the  nextform  {12th  and  13th  centuries).  Tlie  design 
is  simpler  ;  thefe  is  a  distinct  shaft,  extending  above  and  below 
the  knop  ;  and  on  the  foot  is  marked  a  cross,  not  found  in  the 
earlier  ones,  to  show  which  side  the  priest  is  to  hold  townvds 
himself  at  celebration.     The  next  alteration  in  the  form  of  chalice, 


..•:'i^       ,^,.:£^^^ 


Fig.  16. — Vaiious  bh.?pes  of  Ojialires,  shewing  devulopraeiit  fioii:  tlie 
earliest  forin. 

wWch  occurred  in  the  1  Uh  century,  was  to  make  the  foot  not 
circular  in  plan  but  polygonal  or  lobed,  so  that  the  cup  might  not 
roll  when  laid  on  its  side  to  I'rain.  after  it  had  been  rinsed  out. 
It  thus  took  the  shape  D,  and  tliis  form  lasted  in  most  countries 
till  about  1500,  and  in  England  till  the  Reformation.  In  countries 
which  did  not  adopt  the  Ref'^irmed  faith  the  shape  was  altered, 
by  the  general  growth  of  the  Renaissance,  into  a  form  frequently 
like  E.  But  in  England  the  change  was  more  complete;  the- bowl, 
which  in  .the  previous  two  or  three  centuries  had  been  slowly 
reduced  in  size,  owing  to  the  gradually  introduced  practice  of  re- 
fusing the  wine  to  the  laity,  was  suddenly  mide  more  capacious, 
and  the  form  was  altered  to  tlie  shape  F,  in  order  that  the  Pro- 
testant "communion  cup"  miglit  bear  no  resemblance  to  the  old 
Catholic  "massing  chalice."  This  was  ordered  to  be  done  in  1562, 
(see  ArcJi.  Jour.  xxv.  44-63).  The  last  form,  G,  shows  the  usual 
shape  of  sepulchral  chalices,  which,  before  the  Reformation,  were 
enclosed  in  the  coffins  of  all  ecclesiastics  who  had  received  priest's 
orders.  These  are  without  the  knop,  and  were  frequently  made 
of  pewter,  tin,  or  even  wax,  as  they  were  not  meant  for  use.  In 
some  few  cases  a  real  chalice  was  buried  with  some  ecclesiastic  of 
rank,  but  this  was  exceptional. 

Secular  plate  during  the  15th  and  16th  centuries  was 
very  similar  in  stylo  to  that  made  in  Germany,  though  the 
English  silversmiths  of  the  latter  century  never  quite 
equalled  the  skill  or  artistic  talent  of  the  great  Nurem- 
berg and  Augsburg  silver- workers.  In  the  17  th  century, 
during  the  reigns  of  James  I.  and  Charles  I.,  many  fine 
pieces  of  plate,  especially  tall  hanaps  and  tankards,  were 
made  of  very  graceful  form  and  decoration.  The  greater 
part  of  this,  and  all  earlier  plate,  especially  the  fine 
collections  belonging  to  the  universities,  were  melted  do^\n 
during  the  Civil  War.  In  Charles  II.'s  roign  returning 
prosperity  and  the  increase  of  luxury  in  England  caused 
the  production  of  many  magnificent  pieces  of  plate,  often 

'  See  De  Fleury,  La,  Messe,  Paris.  1£82.  in  proEress. 


on  a  large  scale,  such  as  toilet  services,  wme-coolers,  and 
even  fire-dogs  and  tables.  These  are  very  florid  in  their 
ornament,  and  mostly  have  lost  the  beautiful  forms  of 
the  century  before   (fig.    17).     In  the  early  part  of  the 


Fic.  17. — Covered  Cup  of  solid  fColiS.  6  incites  lilch.  circa  1660-70.    Given  to 
Exeter  College,  Oxford,  by  Geoj^e  Haii,  Bishop  of  ChesJer. 

18th  century  the  designs  are  mostly  poor,  and  the  decora- 
tion rather  coarse,  till  tho  time  of  the  classical  revival 
which  was  brought  about  mainly  by  the  discovery  of  the 
buried  cities  of  Pompeii  and  Herculaneura.  A  quite 
different  style  of  plate  then  came  into  vogue — semi- 
classical  both  in  form  and  decoration,  and  often  worked 
with  great  delicacy  of  treatment.  A  good  deal  of  plate  in 
this  style  was  made  tinder  the  influence  of  the  brothers 
Adam  (fig.  18),  distinguished  architects  in  the  second  half 
of  the  18th  century.  Of  modern  plate 
from  the  art  point  of  view  there  is 
nothing  to  say;  it  is  nearly  always  poor 
in  design  and  feeble  in  execution. 

Tlie  Assay  of  Gold  and  Silver  Plate.— The 
primitive  method  of  testing  the  purity  of  the 
metal  was  by  marking  a  streak  with  it  on  tlie 
touch-stone,  and  comparing  the  colour  of  the 
mark  with  that  made  by  various  pieces  of  gold 
or  silver  of  known  degrees  of  purity.  AsFay 
by  cupellation  is  now  employed  for  silver:  a 
piece  of  the  silver  to  be  tested  is  melted  with 
some  lead  in  a  cupel  or  bone-ash  crucible  ; 
the  lead  is  oxidized,  and  rapidly  sinks  into 
the  bone-ash,  carrying  with  it  any  other  im- 
purities which  arc  present.  The  residue  of 
pure  silver  is  then  weighed,  and  by  its  Iossfig.  is.— Sihcr  Vnse.  i) 
shows  how  much  alloy  it  contained.  Gold  is  inclies  high,  dated  177'.' 
now  tested  by  an  elaborate  chemical  process  Desienedbythebroihcn 
by  which  the  trial  bit  is  dissolved  in  acid,  and  ""'■ 
then  thrown  down  in  the  form  of  precipitate,  which  can  be  ex- 
amined by  a  careful  quantitative  analysis.  See  Assaying,  Gold. 
and  Silver. 

The  standard  of  purity  required  in  the  time  of  Edward  T.  was, 
for  gold,  that  it  should  bo  of  the  "Paris  touch,"  i.e.,  195  carats  out 
of  24.  Before  then  22  carats  was  the  standard.  Silver  was  to  be 
"of  the  sterling  alloy,"  viz.,  11  oz.  2  dwts.  to  the  pound.  Except 
for  a  time  during  the  16th  century,  this  standard  of  silver  has  been 
kept  up,  and  is  still  required  by  law. 

■Ifall-marks  on  Silver. — In  the  13th  century  the  English  Guild 
of  Gold-  and  Silver-smiths  had  grown  into  great  importance,  and 
had  acquired  monopolies  and  many  special  privileges.  In  order  to 
keep  the  standard  up  to  the  require<l  purity  tho  system  of  requir- 
ing each  article  to  be  stamped  with  certain  marks  was  introduced 
by  royal  command.  The  first  of  these  was  the  King's  mark—n 
leopard's  or  lion's  head  crowned.  This  was  introduced  in  1300 
by  Edward  I.  {29  Edw.  I.  stat.  3,  c.  30).  The  second,  the  Maker's 
mark,  was  added  in  1363  (37  Edw.  III.  c.  7).  This  might  be  any 
badge  or  initial  chosen  by  the  master  silversmith  himself.  Tho 
third  was  the  Tear  leUcr  or  Assayer's  mark  ;  this  was  an  alphabet, 
one  letter  being  used  for  a  year,  counting  from  the  day  of  tho 
annual  election  of  the  waiden  of  the  Goldsmiths'  Comjiany.  When 
one  alphabet  was  exhausted,  another  with  dillerently  shaped  letters 
was  begun.  The  first  of  these  scries  of  year-letters  commencis  in 
1438-    The  eailiest  existing  jiieco  of  plate  which  has  the  three  markx 


PLATE 


187 


tomplele  is  a  spoon  wliich  was  given  by  Henry  VI.  to  Sir  Ralph 
Pudsey  ;  this  has  the  year  niaik  for  1445.  Other  marks,  subse- 
Queiitly  introduced,  were  the  lion  passant,  first  used  in  1545  ;  the 
lion's  head  erased,  and  a  full-length  figure  of  Britannia,  used  only 
between  1697  and  1720  ;  and  lastly  the  portrait  of  the  reigning 
sovereign,  which  has  been  in  use  since  1784.  In  addition  to  these 
general  hall  marks,  the  plate  made  in  various  towns  had  from  the 
year  1423  certain  special  provincial  marks.  '  The  best  work  on 
hall-marked  plate  and  the  marks  themselves,  with  the  history  of 
the  Silversmiths'  Company,  is  Cripps,  Old  English  Plate,  1881. 
See  also  Ci-ipps,  Old  Frmch  Plate,  1880. 

The  South  Kensington  Museum  has  a  very  fine  illustrative 
collection  of  plate,  from  early  mediaeval  times  downwards.  It  also 
possesses  a  very  valuable  and  large  assortment  of  electrotype 
copies,  including  the  HiMesheira  and  a  part  of  the  Petrossa 
treasures,  as  well  as  a  nnniber  of  the  best  specimens  of  college  and 
corporation  plate.  Tlie  museum  handbooks  on  this  subject  by 
J.  H.  Pollen  and  W.  Cripps  arc  extremely  useful  to  the  student. 
The  same  department  has  also  published  a  most  valuable  List  of 
IVorka  on  Gold-  aiid  Silrer-smiths'  Works  in  the  National  /lit 
Library,  1682. 

Modem  Plate  in  the  East. — Though  little  plate  of  real 
artistic  merit  is  now  made  in  Europe,  in  the  East,  among 
the  Moslem  and  Hindu  races,  there  still  survive  some  real 
taste  in  design  and  skill  in  execution.  Delhi,  Benares, 
Lucknow,  Cutch,  and  other  places  in  India  and  Kashmir 
stni  produce  a  quantity  of  beautiful  silver  and  gold  work, — 
chiefly  ewers,  basins,  rose-water  sprinklers,  salvers,  coffee- 
pots, and  the  like.  These  are  of  graceful  form,  covered 
with  rich  repouss^  work,  or  more  often  with  very  delicate 
chased  patterns.  Their  style  in  the  main  is  Moslem,  but 
some  combine  an  Arab  form  with  native  Indian  surface 
decoration.  This  class  of  work  is  not  a  revival,  but  has 
been  practised  and  handed  down  by  unbroken  tradition, 
and  with  little  or  no  change  in  style  from  the  16th  century 
or  even  earlier.'  The  silversmiths  of  Persia,  Damascus, 
and  other  Eastern  places  are  still  skilful,  and  retain  some 
good  tradition  in  their  designs.  They  are,  however,  more 
occupied  in  the  production  of  personal  ornaments  than  in 
making  larger  works  of  silver  or  gold. 

Authorities. —The  PlXtb  of  Classical  Tikes.— Lpc,  "Sliver  Plate  found  In 
Ithaca,*'  Archtfologia,  vril.  xxxtli..  p.  36  sq.;  Arneth,  Die  antiken  Ootd-  und 
SUber-Afonumente  .  .  .  in  Wien,  1850;  Overbcck,  Geseliirhte  der  tjrieehischen 
Ptatttfc.M  etl,,  ISha;  MUIler,  Handbuch  der  Arcbiiolorjie  der  Kttnst,  Breslau.  Ift48; 
Cesnola,  Antiquititi  of  Ci/pnis  0873),  Ct/prus  (1877),  and  SaJaminia  (1882); 
StephanI,  Antiquitit  du  Boiphore  .  .  .  ilut^e  de  f'£rmil{tj/f,  St  Putcnsbuiy. 
1H54;  Salzmann,  ^'ccropole  de  Camiros,  1875;  Schllemann,  Troy  (1875),  Uycetite 
(1878), and  IHos  (1880);  .MacPherson,  AKtiquilits  o/Kerleh,  1857  ;  Stophani,Coni,-vIc- 
Rendu  de  ta  Commiifion  Archeotogique,  St  I'etersbur^,  18G0  sq.;  BalT<5.  Her- 
cutaneum  el  Poiiipri,  vot.  vil.,  pi.  04  ;  Quaranta.  Quattordiei  Vasi  d'Argenlo  .  .  . 
Pempei,  Naples,  1S"7;  ARlncouit,  Rtoria  del  Arte,  182G;  Viardot,  "Vase  Grec  en 
Argent,  4c.  .  .  tinuvdsdans  la  Crlmde,"  Gaz.  des  D.  Arts,  let  series,  vot.  xxiv., 
p.  234;  Darcel,  Treror  de  nUdeiheim,  1870:  Holzer.  Der  iltldeiheimtr  Rilber- 
ftmd,  1870  ;  aUo  the  Catalo'jurs  of  the  Museums  of  Paris,  Berlin,  Vienna,  and  Buiak 
(Cairn);  Gazette  des  B>aux-Arts,  2d  scries,  vol.  11.  p.  408,  vol.  xii.  p.  450,  vol.- 
xlx.  p.  105,  and  vol.  xxv.  p.  I'J;  Daiemberg,  Dtctionnalre  des  A'Uiquitc's,  art. 
"Coclatura"  (in  proKfess);  ifuseo  Etruteo  Vat.,  \.  pi.  63-66  (silver  bowls  from 
Cojre);  Gazette  Arcfieotogiqur,  1877,  pi.  5;  Lonppcrier,  Musfe  Xapol^on  III.,  pi. 
10-11,  1804  ^q.;  Kolilcr,  ilinheitunqen  d.  dei/tfli.  Are/iiial.  Jnst.  Atliem,  18S2, 
p.  241 ;  Koumunoudcs,  'AOii-oiui',  1880,  p.  162,  and  1881,  p.  303  (the  last  two  on 
the  gold  treasure  of  Myccna:). 

ScANDiHAviAK  Ai*D  Iftmn  Platf. — hninnou,  ifindeJIiJode  fra  de  danske  Kon- 
ffen  Samling,  1S67;  Danviarks,  Norges,  eg  Srerigs  Historie,  i'^Ol ;  .itlns  de 
I'ArchMogle  du  Nord,  1857;  Madsen,  A/Oildriinger  tif  DattJ^ke  Oldsaticr,  1868-7C; 
Worsaao.  Aflildninger  fra  det  Kongelige  Museum  (1854),  Primeval  Antiquities  of 
Denmark  (IM9),  "Industrial  Arts  of  Dcnniaik."  S.K.U.  Handbook  (1882); 
Hildobrand.  "Industrial  Arts  of  Scandinavia,"  S.K.M.,  1382  ;  Stralsund.  Der 
Gotdtehmuck  von  lliddensoe,  1881;  Montetiiis.  Antiquitei  Suidoises,  1873-75; 
Rccvc^  Hhrine  of  St  Patrick's  Bell,  1850;  Wilde,  Catalogue  of  Antiquities  of 
O  Id,  Irish  R.  Academp  Museum,  \m1. 

.>!  Knivf-,vAL  Platr. — Abel,  L'orfevrerie  mosellane  au  lO*'  S\eele,  1S7-1-74  ;  Bock, 
Der  Reliquim-Sehalz  .  .  .  zu  Aael'en  (l^dO).  Das  heilige  /:t>ln  (liiS):  tier  Kran- 
teuehter  Kaisers  Barbarossa  zu  Aar/ien  (1864),  Die  Kleijiodim  des  h,  il.  romisehen 
R,-iehrs{iSe4)iCaMernnaiti\Titn,ifelant/esd'ArehMogie.lMl-ir,:ClnMyt\,nilliees 
des  Pays-Bos,  vol.  111.,  1769;  Clement  de  Rls,  "Lo  trt^sor  Imptirlal  de  Vlcnne," 
Oar.  des  B.  Arts,  2d  scries,  vol.  11.  p.  200;  CoUiSemakcr  Orf^vrerie  du  XII I'm 
Sfieele,  Paris.  1861 ;  Darcel.  articles  in  Gaz.  des  B.  Arts  ('■  L'Orfdvreric  dn  Moven- 
A(fc,"  vol.  Iv.  p.  254,  18.19;  "La  Collection  Soltykoff,"  vol.  x,  p.  212,  1661; 
"  Lea  tr^sora  de  Cologne,"  vol.  Ix.  p.  226,  1861  ;  "  Le  tr<!sor  do  1ft  CtthtJdralo  do 
Itclms,"  vol.  xxili.  p.  08,  1881;  "  Lcs  Autels  do  PisLoia  et  do  FInicnco,"  vol. 
xxvJI.);    Du   Sommorurd,   Les    Arts    au    Moyrn-Age,    1838  46;     Kabre,    Trisor 

.  .  des  Dues  de  Ststoie,  1875;  Heury.  7Vc>or  de  la  Catfiedrate  de  I.aon,  1855; 
Frlti,  liemorie  delta  ehlesa  Uonsese.  1774-80;  tlelder,  MIttrlalterllche  Kunsl- 
denkmale  (1356-60),  Der  AUaraufsatz  zu  Ktosterneuburg  (i860);  Jouy  and  Jncquc- 
mait.  Les  gemmes  ft  joyaux  de  la  couronne,  1865-67  ;  Jouy.  "  Lo  Reilfiuairo  rt' 
Orvlcto, '  Gaz.  des  B.  Arts,  vol.  x».  p.  M!,  1877;  King,  Mrtal-work  of  the  Middle 
Aijes,  1852;  Y^ztXt,  Der  Dom su  IIildesheim,\MO;  Llnas,  Orfirrei-ie  Mirovingienne, 
1864 ;  De  Lnstcyrie,  Trlsor  de  Ouarrazar,  ParlH,  1860 ;  Tarb(<,  Tr/iors  des  iglises 
de  Reims,  1843;  Auberl,  Trtsor  de  r Abbaye  <[ A guune,  Paris.  1873;  Way.  "Gold 
Crowns  from  Toledo,  and  St  Flllan'a  Croiier,"  In  Arch  Jour.,  vol.  ivl,  18411 ;  and 
"Ancient  Ornaments,"  <6M.,  vol.  III.;  Aus'm  V'ecrth,  X'utud/raliiKifrr  <lra  ehrisl- 


■  8e«,filrdwood,  Jnduslriat  Arts  nf  India,  1830,  p.  144. 


liehen  Mittrlalters  In  den  Rheinlanden.  Lclpsic.  1867-60;  "  Clialicc  irom  Donegal 
Abbey,"  Kilkmny  Arch.  Soc.,  n  s  ,  vol.  v  ;  Duniaven,  T/.e  Ardagh  rhaliee,  1874  ; 
Morgan,  "  Leominster  and  Ncttlccombe  t\\a.\\eei,^'  Ar■h^eologia,\<^.  .ixxr.  p.4S«*, 
and  vol.  ilil.:  Specimens  of  Ancient  Church  Plate,  Oxford,  1845;  Heilfeldcr, 
Basilica  S-l.  Udalnei  el  Afrx,  Augsburg.  1627;  Schacpkcns,  Ti-^Jor  de  V Art 
Ancien  en  Belgique,  1846;  Shaw.  Dresses  and  Deeoratitm*  of  the  Middle  Ages 
(1843),  and  Decoralire  Arts  of  the  .Middle  Ages  (1651);  Miiner,  "  Jlitre  and  Croiier 
of  Limerick,"  Archlrologia,  vol.  xvll.  p.  30,  and  "  GlastonbuQ-  Cup,"  vol.  IL: 
see  also  "Tho  Pastoral  Staff  of  Llsmore."  i6irf.,  vol.  xxxil.  p.  3G0. 

Renaissance  Plate.— F.-iicholt,  Lord  LondesborougKs  Collection  of  Plate,  18CT); 
Fiampton,  Gold  Plate  at  Windsor  Castle,  n.d.;  Catalogue  of  Plate,  ic,  exhibited 
In  1861  at  Iionmongera*  Hall.  London,  le0.'i-60:  Richardson,  Old  Erglish  yansicius 
and  their  />(ii(c  (I841-4S),  Draieings  and  Sketches  of  Elizab  'han  Plate,  LiJUJ-n, 
n.d.;  Shaw,  Ancient  Plate  from  Oxford,  1837;  Smith,  "Specimens  of  College 
Plate."  Cam.  Ant.  Soc.,  1845;  "  LOrfevrciio  Anglaise,"  Gas,  des  B.  Arts,  vol.  ix. 
p.  6,  and  voL  xvl.  p.  297;  Keller.  "  Three  Silver  Cups  at  Zurich,"  Arch.  Jour.,  vol. 
x\1.,  p.  153;  Autotypes  of  Italian  Designs  for  Plate,  London,  1871;  Schotel,  La 
Coupe  de  van  .Vispen,  18.iO;  Strada.  E/ttu-urfe  fur  Prachtgejdsse  in  Silber  und 
Gold,  VientiB,  1869;  Zeilschrift  des  Kunst.Gcuerbe-Vereii  -  zu  Mitnchen,  1871; 
Cerceau,  (Sucre  de  Jacques  Androuet,  Patis,  and  /.ir*-e  dOrnenttuts  d' Or.titrerie, 
Paris,  n.d.;  Van  Loon,  Histoire  Metallique  des  Pays-Bas.  Hague,  1732-37;  Hirth, 
Formenschatz  der  Renaissance,  I.eli-5ic,  1877  sq.;  Lessine.  Die  Silber-Arbeiten 
von  Anton  Eisenhcil,  lieilin,  1880;  Luthmer,  Goldsclimuck  da-  R  naissanee, 
Berlin,  18S0;  Masson,  Keuc  Vorrisse  con  Sachen  die  auf  allcrtri  Goldsmidts 
Arbeit,  etc.,  Aug-buig,  1710;  Sibmacher,  EnticuifefUr  Goldschiniede.  Nut,.u.o«rg, 
1679 ;  Arneth,  Die  Canteen  und  Arbeiten  des  Ben.  Cell  mi,  Vienna,  1858  ,  uoldiu, 
Recueil  dOrnements.  Paris,  1866  ;  Quarterly  Reviete,  vol.  cxll.  p.  353. 

Works  on  Plate  of  Variucs  Pkkioi,». — Texier,  Dietionnaire  d' Orfivrtrit, 
1857;  Do  Lastcyne,  Ilistoirc  de  VOrfirrerie;  Vioilet-I'-Duc.  Dictionnaire  du 
Mobilier,  1858-75;  Jacquoumrt.  Histoire  da  Mobilier,  1876;  Labaile.  .Wj<oi<'« 
des  Arts  au  .Moyen-Agt,  1861-66;  Ltkcyoix.  Arts  in  the  Middle  Agei,  1870;  Greco 
and  Emnnuel.ylds  of  the  Goldsmith  ani  Jeirell-r.  1883;  Wheatleyand  Delamotte, 
Aii  Work  in  Gold  and  Sitter,  1882;  Kulmer,  Lie  KunsI  del  Cold-Arbeitert,  tc. 
Weimar,  1872;  Luthmer.  Der  Schatz  des  K.  con  Rothschild,  Kr-niifoit,  18-82  sq.; 
Schom,  Kunst  und  Gewerbe,  1874  !q.;  Becker  and  Hefnei-Alteneck,  Kunslieerke 
und  Oerathschaflcn,  Frankfort,  1852-57;  Catalogue  of  Exhibition  of  Works  of 
Art  at  South  Kmsington,  18G2;  Filiraoroff,  Plate,  Jciiellery,  ic,  in  the  Musle 
d'Armures  at  SI  Petersburg,  Moscow,  1849;  Cripps,  Old  £nghth  Plate.  1881, 
College  aiut  Corporation  Plate,  18SI,  and  Old  Frutch  Plate,  18S0;  Ferguson, 
Church  Plate  of  the  Diocese  of  Carlisle.  18S2. 

Designs  for  Plate.— Gial-dini.  Prompftiarittm  ./Irf is  Argrntariie,  Rome.  1750: 
Holbein,  Original  Designs  for  Plate,  in  the  Print  Room,  British  JIuseum,  and  In 
ihe  Bodleian  "at  Oxford  (the  South  Kensington  Museum  also  has  a  line  collecllun 
of  original  16tli-century  designs  in  pen  and  luk);  Viane,  ilodels  of  Silver  Vases, 
Ac,  Utrecht,  17th  cenluiy  ;  Loie,  Brasiers  .  ,  .  el  Autrrs  Outrages  de  Orferrerie, 
and  .Vourea«.r  dessins  de  guendons,  Ac,  Paris,  n.d.:  Maria,  Litre  de  dessins  de 
jouaillene,  ic,  Paris,  n.d.;  Fortefeuitte  tTornement,  Paris,  1841.  (J.  H.  M.) 

PLATE,  The  KiviiK,  or  Kio  de  l.\  Plata  ("River  of 
Silver "),  in  South  America  (see  vol.  ii.  Plate  xxv.,  and 
vol.  iv.  Plate  xvii.),  was  at  first  known  as  Pdo  de  Solis, 
after  Juan  Diaz  de  Solis,  who  discovered  it  in  1515,  and 
lost  his  life  on  its  banks.  Tho  present  name,  a  double 
misnomer,  was  bestowed  by  Sebastian  Cabot,  who,  ignorant 
that  he  was  on  the  wrong  side  of  tho  continent,  thought 
he  had  reached  a  country  of  mineral  wealth— a  mistake 
(perpetuated  also  in  the  designation  Argentine  Republic) 
which  may  be  said  to  have  received  a  kind  of  poetic 
justification  in  the  fact  that  the  distant  mim-s  of  Potosi 
lie  within  the  drainage  area  of  the  La  Plata  system. 
Like  Rio  Grande  do  Sul  and  Rio  de  Janeiro  ou  the 
Brazilian  coast,  this  Rio  is  not  a  river  but  a  vast  estuary 
into  which  rivers  discharge.  At  its  narrowest  it  is  23 
miles  acros.s,  opposite  Buenos  Ayres  34  miles,  and  opposite 
Montevideo  63  miles.  By  some  writers  the  conventional 
limit  between  estuary  and  ocean  is  drawn  from  Montevideo, 
where  the  water  is  still  fresh  enough  to  be  drunk ;  but 
others  go  farther  out  and  take  the  line  150  miles  across 
from  Maldonado  to  Cabo  San  Antonio.  In  the  former 
case  the  length  of  tho  estuary  is  125  miles.  At  one  time 
it  must  evidently,  have  extended  200  miles  farther  inland 
to  Diamante,  at  the  bend  of  the  ParanA ;  and  nature  is 
steadily  and  rapidly  at  work  prolonging  the  rivers  proper 
at  the  expcn.se  of  the  estuary.  At  low  water  the  average 
depth  may  be  taken  at  18  feet,  and  shoals  and  .sandbanks 
are  abundant,  especially  in  the  upper  end.  Nearly  the 
whole  expanse  between  Buenos  Ayres  and  Martin  Carcio 
Island  is  between  3  and  6  feet  deep,  and  a  great  portion 
is  even  shallower.  In  tho  shallower  portions  tho  bottom 
consists  of  a  very  fine  hard-grained  sand,  in  the  dpcpci 
portions  of  a  sticky  ooze.  Tho  tidal  movement  is  so 
disguised  by  the  more  obviou.s  offccta  of  wind  that  Mr 
R(Svy  found  people  who  had  lived  ail  their  lives  on  the 
banks  ready  to  deny  its  existence.  But  at  Buenos  Ayres 
the  normal  ncai>tide  is  5  feet  3  inche.s  above  nrdinory  low 
water,  ond  tho  spring  tides  vary  from  6  to  more  than  10 
feet.  Tho  region  bring  one  of  "storms  and  oxtraordin.-iry 
electric  disturbance,"  with  the  pampero  at  uue  lime  blow: 


18H 


P  L  A  T  E 


[lUVER. 


ing  hard  from  the  land  and  at  another  a  sea  wind  driving 
the  ocean  before  it,  the  ordinary  levels  and  currents  are 
often  violently  disturbed.  The  general  slope  of  the  sur- 
face may  even  be  reversed,  and  the  main  current  of  estuary 
and  river  run  up  stream  for  a  hundred  miles  or  more. 
It  has  been  estimated  that  the  volume  of  water  poured 
into  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  exceeds  the  aggregate  discharge 
of  all  the  rivers  of  Europe  put  together.  Nor  need  this 
be  matter  of  surprise  when  the  enormous  extent  and  the 
character  of  the  drainage  area  are  taken  into  account.  The 
headwaters  of  the  Rio  Blanco  (a  feeder  of  the  Pilcomayo 
sub-system)  rise  only  125  miles  from  the  coast  of  the 
Pacific,  in  68°  10'  W.  long.,  and  those  of  the  Rio  Grande 
are  not  more  than  70  miles  from  the  coast  of  the  Atlantic, 
in  44°  W.  long.;  the  basin  thus  extends  east  and  west 
over  twenty-four  degrees  of  longitude,  or  1500  miles,  and 
the  direct  distance  from  the  northmost  source  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Parana  is  about  as  great.  A  considerable 
.proportion  of  this  vast  area  lies  within  the  tropics,  and 
receives  an  abundant  rainfall,  which,  owing  to  the  character 
of  the  strata,  is  largely  carried  off  by  the  surface  drainage. 
As  an  instance  of  the  effect  of  this  rainfall  on? even  the 
secondary  tributaries,  Mr  Bigg-Wither's  experience  may  be 
cited  :  at  Jatahy  on  the  Tibagy  he  was  detained  from  the 
2d  to  the  25th  of  July  by  the  river,  after  nine  days  of 
incessant  downpour,  rising  33  feet  at  a  place  where  it  was 
200  yards  wide,  and  pouring  along  a  volume  of  90,000 
cubic  feet  per  second,  or  twenty-live  times  its  low-water 
volume  (see  Journ.  Roy.  Geogr.  Soc,  1876). 

The  three  great  rivers  of  the  La  Plata  system  are 
the  Parand,  its  equal  affluent  the  Paraguay,  and  the 
Uruguuy — the  second  being  the  most  important  as  a  water- 
way, and  the  first  the  most  interesting  from  its  physical 
features.^  As  the  general. course  of  the  Parand  and  the 
Paraguay,  both  of  which  rise  in  Brazil,  has  already  been 
sketched  in  the  article  on  that  country  (vol.  iv.  p.  222),  it 
simply  remains  to  direct  attentiofl  to  a  few  points  of 
interest.  In  regard  to  the  great  "Seven  Falls"  of  the 
ParanA,  we  have  still  no  better  account  than  that  of  Azara 
in  the  18th  century;  but  the  Hundred  Cataracts  or 
Victoria  Falls  of  the  Curityba  or  Y-guazu  have  been 
described  in  detail  by  the  members  of  the  first  Germano- 
Argentine  colonial  land  surveying  expedition  to  Misiones 
in  1883  (see  Verhandl.  d.  Ges.  f.  Erdkunde  zu  Berlin, 
vol.  x.  pp.  357-364).  For  combined  beauty  and  grandeur 
of  scenery  they  claim  to  rank  among  the  foremost  cataracts 
in  the  world.  About  6  or  7  miles  higher  up  the  river  is 
3  miles  broad ;  it  gradually  narrows  until,  after  passing 
through  a  perfect  labyrinth  of  islands  (King  Albert 
Archipelago),  it  pours,  not  in  a  single  mass,  but  in  numer- 
ous streams,  over  a  horse-shoe  edge  of  rock  into  a  gorge 
120  to  150  feet  deep.  <  Niederlein  divides  the  falls  into 
three  groups — a  northern  or  Brazilian,  a  central  or  insular, 
and  a  southern  or  Argentine,  to  which  he  has  attached 
respectively  the  names  of  the  Emperor  Don  Pedro,  the 
Emperor  William,  and  General  Roca.  The  river  continues 
for  some  distance  shut  in  by  overhanging  cliffs ;  and  a 
large  number  of  secondary  cataracts  (Bosetti  Falls,  Prince 
Bismarck  Falls,  kc.)  are  formed  by  tributary. streams,  and_ 
add  to  the  bewildering  beauty  of  the  scene.' 

The  watersheds  between  the  north-eastern  headwaters  of  the 
Paraguay  system  and  the  southern  affluents  of  the  Amazons  are  so 
low  and  narrow  that  in  some  instances  canoes  have  been  conveyed 
pverlaud  from  the  one  to  the  other.  Interest  has  recently  been 
.lonceiitrated  on  the  e.\ploration  of  the  Pilcomayo,  a  right-hand 
tributary  wliich  joins  the  Paraguay  proper  in  25°  20'  S.  lat. 
Though  its  sources  have  long  been  known,  all  attempts  tQ  trace  it 
iowuwaid  from  Bolivia  or  upward  from  the  Argentine  Repuljlic 

i,  The  word  Parana,  meaning  simply  n'rer,  appears,  it  is  to  be  re- 
aiembered,  alone  or  in  composition  again  and  again  tliroughout  South 
imerica^Sec  Lallemant,  in  Zeitschr.  fur  Erdk.,  Berlin,  1863,  p.  156. 


had  been  foiled  by  the  hostility  of  the  Indians.  At  lengtli,  on 
April  27,  1882,  Dr  Crevaux,  the  great  French  wplorcr  of  South- 
Auierican  rivers,  was  slain  with  all  his  party  by  the  Tobas  ai,  a 
place  called  Ipanticapu.  General  interest  was  thus  aroused  ;  anil 
the  task  in  which  Dr  Crevaux  perished  has  since  been  practi- 
cally accomplished  by  Dr  Thouar,  his  fellow-countryman,  who, 
leaving  the  San  Francisco  mission -station  on  10th  Septemlwr  1S&3, 
reached  the  mouth  of  the  river  on  10th  November,  though  he  had 
not  been  able  to  keep  close  to  its  course  in  the  lower  section  of  the 
journey.  The  Pilcomay'i  rises  in  Vilcapujia  (a  mountain  13,500  feet 
high  to  the  E.  of  Lago  Pcopo),  and  passes  between  the  Cordillera  of 
Livichuco  and  the  Cordillera  de  los  Frailes,  a  few  miles  to  the 
north  of  Potosi.  It  cuts  through  tlie  last  range  of  the  Andes  in 
21- 16'  50"  S.  lat.  and  63°  25'  W.  long.,  and  enters  the  plains  of  the 
Gran  Chaco  at  a  height  of  1456  feet  atiove  seadevel(J.  B.  Miuchin-). 
It  is  soon  after  joined  by  the  Pilaga,  which  brings  down  the  wateis 
of  the  Kio  Blanco  and  other  streams  from  the  mountains.  TilLiu 
its  south-eastern  course  it  reaches  22°  S.  lat.,  the  river  has  a  very 
regular  course,  flowing  at  the  rate  of  6500  feet  per  hour  over  a  sandy 
bed  600  to  700  feet  wide,  unimpeded  by  rocks  or  trees,  and  enclosed 
by  steep  banks  15  to  20  feet  high,  above  which  the  country  stretches 
out  in  pasture-covered  plains.  Farther  down  the  banks  increase 
in  height  to  from  20  to  45  feet,  and  embrace  a  channel  or  valley 
5500  feet  or  more  in  breadth,  though  the  actual  river  does  not 
exceed  150  or  200  feet.  At  the  point  called  Cabello  Muerto,  24° 
20'  S.  lat.,  commence  the  marshy  plains  of  the  lower  course,  in 
which  the  banks  hardly  rise  above  the  level  of  the  water,  and  a 
whole  series  of  lagoons  lie  at  a  distance  of  a  mile  or  two  on  the  left 
hand.  So  flat  is  the  country,  and  so  tortuous  the  river  that  when 
Mr  Robinson,  in  1873,  ascended  for  150  miles,  he  never  lost  sight 
of  the  white  houses  of  Asuncion.' 

About  150  miles  below  the  mouth  of  the  Pilcomayo  the  Paraguay 
is  joined  by  another  Andean  river  the  Rio  Vermejo  or  Y-py  ta,  whoso 
red  waters,  pouting  into  the  dark  clear  water  of  the  main  stream, 
are  sufficient  to  tinge  the  whole  curient  downwards  to  the  conflu- 
ence of  the  Parana.  "From  the  junction  of  its  headsti'eams  down 
to  the  Paraguay,  the  Vermejo  does  not  receive  a  single  affluent ;  its 
breadth  varies  from  70  to  250  yards,  its  dejith  from  5  to  16  feet ; 
and  the  current  appears  to  average  IJ  miles  an  hour"  (Keith 
Johnston).  Its  navigability  was  shown  about  1780  by  the  Fran- 
ciscan missionaries  ilurillo  and  Lapa  descending  tlie  whole  way  in 
a  canoe,  but  it  was  not  till  1S74  that,  under  Don  Katalio  Roldao, 
the  regular  navigation  was  undertaken. 

At  their  confluence  the  Paraguay  has  a  width  of  half  a  mile,  th« 
Parana  of  3  miles.  The  united  river  continues  for  686  miles,  first 
in  a  south-south-west,  then  in  a  south,  and  finally  in  a  south-easl 
direction  before  it  reaches  the  head  of  the  La  Plata  estuary.  Down 
to  Diamante,  or  for  433  miles,  its  left  bank  is  at  intervals  formed 
by  lines  of  bold  bluff's  from  100  to  200  feet  high,  on  which  several 
of  the  more  important  towns  are  built ;  but  the  channel  often 
breaks  up  so  as  to  enclose  extensive  islands.  The  worst  reach  in 
this  respect  is  the  45  miles  below  Goya,  a  little  town  in  29°  7'  S 
lat.  At  Diamante  begins  the  enormous  delta  (some  5000  or  6000 
square  miles)  wliich  is  traversed  by  countless  and  changing  chan- 
nels, and  presents  nothing  else,  even  if  viewed  from  tlie  masthead 
of  the  steamer,  but  a  boundless  labyrinth  of  islands  clothed  with 
e.xuberant  vegetation.  The  two  chief  liiies  of  navigation  through 
this  deltaic  region  are  the  Parana  de  las  Palmas  (so  called  by  Cabot, 
in  1526,  but  now  showing  comparatively  few  palms  among  its 
ceibos,  willows,  and  poplars)  ana  the  Parana  Guazu.  The  former 
has  its  mouth  about  24  miles  north  of  Buenos  Ayres,  the  lattei 
joining  the  estuary  of  tlie  Uruguay  22  miles  fanlier  north,  in 
34°  N.  lat.  and  58°  24'  30"  W.  long. 

The  third  great  confluent  of  the  La  Plata  system,  the  Uruguay,' is 
"quite  unlike  the  other  two.  Instead  of  having  a  fairly  steady  and 
continuous  flow,  it  appears  sometimes  as  an  insignificant  torrent 
and  at  other  times  as  a  magnificent  river.  It  has  its  headwaters 
in  the  Serra  Geral,  and  for  several  hundred  miles  continues  to  flow 
west  through  Brazil  (forming  the  northern  boundary  of  Rio  Grande 
do  Sul  province),  as  if  it  meant,  like  the  Curityba,  to  carry  its 
waters  to  the  Parana ;  but  about  54°  W.  long,  it  is  turned  aside  by: 
the  mountain  range  of  Jlisiones,  and  flows  south-west  and  soutli 
almost  parallel  with  the  Parana.  It  has  a  total  length  of.950 
.miles,  and  a  drainage  area  of  200,000  square  miles. 
.^.  In  the  matter  of  annual  rise  and  fall  the  three  rivers  difler  con- 
■siderably.  The  Paraguay  is  regular,  reaching  its  lowest  stage  in 
the  end  of  February,  anil  its  highest  about  the  end  of  June,  and 
showing  an  average  difi"erence  of  level  not  exceeding  15  feet.  .  The 
ordinary  flow  at  Asuncion  is  between  97,400  and  99,950  cubic  feet' 
per  second.  Above  the  junction  of  the  Paraguay  the  Parana  appeal's 
to  have  numerous  and  rapid  risings  at  irregular  intervals,  but  ta 
reach  its  maximum  in  December.  Below  the  junction  it  has  much 
the  same  movement  as  the  Paraguay,  having  high  water  in  sum-. 

'  "Eastern  Bolivia,  &c.,"  in  Proc.  Roy.  Geo.  Soc,  ISSl. 
'  See  Thouar's  account  in  L' Exploration,  1884  ;    and  map  of  tlioi 
Pilcomayo,  in  Bol.  Inst.  Georjr.  Ari/ciitino,  1882. 


P  L  A  —  P  I.  A 


189 


tncr,  gradually  shrinking  tlirough  September,  October,  ami  Decem- 
ber, flooding  in  January,  and  conti)iuing  high  and  steady  till  June. 
Tlie  Uruguay  rises  about  tlie  middle  of  January  (at  Salto  sometimes 
22  ieit  above  low  water);  again  in  April,  to  continue  in  Hood  for 
two  montlis  (30  feet  at  Salto);  and  lor  the  tliird  time,  and  with 
preat  regularity,  in  September  or  October,  to  last  a  whole  month, 
and  reach  40  to  50  feet  above  low  water.  Occasionally  the  flood 
level  of  the  Parana  is  maintained  throughout  a  whole  year,  or  even 
two  years  in  succession ;  and  at  intervals,  as  in  1858  and  1868,  tlie 
water  rises  so  high  that  the  whole  delta  is  submerged.  The  highest 
floods  on  record  stood  24  feet  above  ordinary  low-water  maik  at 
Kosario,  or  12  feet  above  ordinary  high  water.  As  a  system  of 
waterways  the  La  Plata  rivers  are  but  partially  developed.  Steamers, 
mainly  Brazilian,  ascend  from  Buenos  Ayres  by  the  Pai'ana,  Para- 
guay, and  Cuyab.i,  a  total  distance  of  2146  miles,  to  the  town  of 
Cuyabd  in  Brazil  ;  and  the  Pilcomayo  and  the  Vermejo,  the  Apa, 
the  Jejuy,  and  the  Tebiquary  are  all  more  or  less  navigable.  The 
Parana  affords  a  free  passage  for  280  miles  above  tl*e  confluence  to 
the  Seveu  Falls,  except  during  low  water,  when  the  rapids  of  Ajiipe 
interfere;  and,  according  to  Bigg-Wither,  the  upper  Parani  and 
its  tributaries  the  Tibagy,  Paranapancma,  Tiete,  Ibahy,  &c. ,  fur- 
nish 1290  miles  of  navigable  stream,  of  which  510  could  be  at  once 
utilized  by  steamers  of  light  draught,  while  the  remainder  would 
require  a  certfiin  outlay  in  the  way  of  improvements.  Vessels 
drawing  4jj  feet  of  water  can  always  ascend  the  Uruguay  to  Salto 
(200  miles),  and  during  six  months  they  can  cross  the  Salto  Chico, 
or  I<esser  Fall,  a  mile  higher  up;  but  the  Salto  Grande,  8  miles 
farther,  stops  all  progress  except  during  six  weeks  in  October  and 
September.  The  whole  system  may  be  estimated  to  give  upwifrds 
of  5000  miles  of  waterway,  of  which  3500  are  accessible  from  the 
sea,  without  counting  the  secondary  deltaic  channels. 

Sec  T.  S.  Tage,  U.S.N.,  La  Ptala,  1850  (the  surveys  of  the  "  Waterwllch  "); 
Burton,  Battle -Jields  of  Paraguay ,  lt^"0;  Bigg-Wither,  Pioneering  in  South  Brazil, 
1S7S ;  j.  J.  Rtjvy,  Hyilraulies  of  Great  Rieerst  the  Parana,  the  Uruguay,  and  the 
La  Plata  Sstuary,  18"4  (a  series  of  elaborate  investigations  and  nieasurenienta 
vt  gi-eat  value) ;  and  other  woiks  mentioned  under  Pabagcat.  (H.  A.  \V.) 

PLATEAU,  Joseph  A_ntoine  Ferdinand,  was  born  at 
Brussels  in- 1801,  and  died  in  1883  at  Ghent,  where  he 
had  been  professor  of  physics  from  1835.  He  was  a  pupil 
and  friend  of  Quetelet,  who  had  much  influence  on  the 
early  part  of  his  career.  The  more  original  investigations 
of  Plateau  refer  chiefly  to  portions  of  one  or  other  of  two 
branches  of  science — physiological  optics  and  molecular 
forces.  His  doctoral  thesis  (Liege,  1829)  had  for  its  subject 
"Impressions  produced  by  Light  on  the  Organs  of  Vision"; 
and  it  was  succeeded  by  numerous  memoirs,  some  of  much 
value,  on  the  persistence  of  visual  impressions,  subjective 
impressions  of  colour,  irradiation,  &c.  Among  other  results 
of  his  studies  was  the  invention  of  the  philosophical  toy 
known  as  the  "  thaumatrope."  We  owe  to  him  also  some- 
thing n\uch  more  important,  the  process  of  studying  the 
motion  of  a  vibrating  body  by  looking  at  it  through 
equidistant  radial  slits  in  a  revolving  disk.  In  1829  he 
imprudently  gazed  at  the  midday  sun  for  20  seconds, 
with  the  view  of  studying  the  after  effects.  The  result 
was  blindness  for  some  days,  succeeded  by  a  temporary 
recovery ;  but  for  the  ne.xt  fourteen  years  his  sight 
gradually  deteriorated,  and  in  1843  ho  became  perma- 
nently blind.  This  calamity  did  not  interrupt  his  scientific 
activity.  Aided  by  his  wife  and  son,  and  afterwards  by 
his  son-in-law  Van  dor  Mensbrugghe,  he  continued  to  tho 
end  of  his  life  his  researches  on  vision, — directing  the  course 
of  the  experiments  which  they  made  for  him,  and  inter- 
preting the  bearing  of  the  results.  He  also  published  a 
Valuable  analytical  catalogue  of  all  the  more  important 
memoirs  which  had  been  written,  from  the  earliest  times 
to  the  end  of  the  18th  century,  on  his  favourite  theme  of 
subjective  visual  phenomena.  But  even  more  extraordi- 
nary were  this  blind  man's  investigations  about  molecular 
forces,  embracing  hundreds  of  novel  experiments  whoso 
results  he  saw  only  with  others'  eyes.  These  form  the 
subject  of  his  great  work  Statique  expcrimentale  et  thi:ori(jve 
dts  Liqiiides  soumis  <mx  seulcs  Forces  moleculaires  (2  vols., 
1873),  which  is  a  valuaVile  contribution  to  our  knowledge 
of  the  phenomena  usually  called  capillary.  To  avoid,  as 
(ar  as  possible,  complications  due  to  gravity.  Plateau  em- 
ployed  either  films   formed  of  a  solution  aS  .soap  with 


glycerin,  or  masses  of  oil  suspended  in  a  mixture  of  alcohol 
and  water  of  the  same  density  as  the  oil.  See  CaI'ILLaet 
Action. 

PLATED  WARE.  The  plating  or  coating  of  one  metal 
or  alloy  with  another  is  extensively  practised  in  metal 
working.  In  some  cases  the  coating  metal  is  a  valuable 
protector  from  oxidation,  ic,  of  the  underlying  metal ;  in 
other  cases  the  properties  and  advantages  of  two  metals — 
such  as  strength  and  lustre — are  combined  in  one  object ; 
and  more  frequently  a  cheap  and  inferior  body  by  a  super- 
ficial coating  gets  the  appearance  of  a  more  valuable  and 
important  metal.  The  art  of  plating  was  originally  ajiplied 
to  the  production  of  imitation  silver  plate,  whence  the 
term  "  plating."  The  original  method  of  silver  plating 
consisted  in' attaching,  by  a  kind  of  autogenous  soldering, 
thin  plates  of  silver  to  the  opposite  suifaces  of  a  prejtared 
ingot  of  copper  alloy  or  of  German  silver.  The  silver  plates 
were  firmly  wired  to  the  ing-it  and  submitted  to  a  soldering 
temperature  in  a  plating  furnace,  in  which  the  surfaces 
became  firmly  united.  Subsequently  the  ingot  was  rolled 
down  to  a  sheet  in  which  the  relative  thickness  of  tho 
metals  was  maintained,  and  from  such  sheets  "silver 
plated  "  articles  were  fashioned.  This  method  of  plating 
may  be  regarded  as  now  extinct,  being  superseded  by 
electro-plating  (see  Electeo-Metalltjegy,  vol.  viii.  p. 
114).  Piecently,  however,  cooking  vessels,  kc,  of  iron 
plated  in  an  analogous  manner  with  nickel  have  come  into 
use  (see  Nickel,  vol.  xvii.  p.  488).  The  plating  or  casing 
of  iron  with  brass  is  extensively  practised  in  the  manufac- 
ture of  stair-rods,  curtain  and  picture  rods,  and  "  cased  " 
tubing  for  upholstery  purposes  generally ;  and  in  the 
manufacture  of  pipes  for  conveying  water  the  body  of 
lead  is  frequently  lined  with  a  coating  of  pure  tin.  The 
gilding  of  metals  is  a  process  analogous  to  plating,  as  are 
also  the  ga,lvanizing  of  iron  and  the  manufacture  of  tin 
and  terne  plates.     For  these  see  Ieon,  vol.  xiii.  p.  357. 

PLATEN-HALLERMUND,  August,  Geaf  von  (1796- 
1835),  German  poet,  was  born  at  Ansbach  on  October  24, 
1796,  and  died  at  Syracuse  on  December  5,  1835.  His 
.principal  publications  were  Lyrische  Blatter  (1821),  Sonelte 
aus  Veiifdig  (1825  ),  an  historical  fragment  entitled  Geschich- 
ten  des  Kdnigreichs  Neapel  1414-43  (1833),  and  a  poem 
in  nine  cantos,  Die  Abbasiden  (1835).  Ho  wrote  also  a 
number  of  dramas,  of  which  may  be  mentioned  Der  fflasenie 
Pantoffel  and  Die  Liga  von  Cambrai.     See  vol.  x.  p.  545. 

PLATINUM  AND  THE  PLATINUM  METALS.  TL9 
metals  platinum  (Pt),  palladium  (Pd),  rhodium  (V\\i), 
iridium  (Ir),  ruthenium  (Ku),  and  osmium  (Os)  are  uniteil 
into  a  family  by  a  striking  similarity  in  chemical  characters 
and  by  their  association  in  natural  occurrence.  A  rather 
rare  ore,  called  platinum  ore  or  polyxcnc,  is  almost  tho 
only  native  material  which  is  available  for  their  extrac- 
tion ;  it  contains  them  all  in  the  reguline  form.  Tra^rs 
of  platinum  are  found  in  almost  all  native  gold. 

As  early  as  the  first  half  of  the  16th  century  it  appears 
to  have  been  noticed  that  the  gold  ore  in  tho  Spani.sli 
mines  of  Darien  includes  grains  of  a,  white  metal,  endowed 
with  the  qualities  of  a  noble  metal  and  yet  distinctly 
different  from  silver;  but  tho  fact  remained  unknown  in 
Europe  because  tho  Spanish  Government,  having  found  out 
that  the  new  metal  lent  itself  most  admirably  for  the 
adulteration  of  gold,  prohibited  its  exportation.  Only 
from  about  the  middle  of  last  century  did  the  metal  begin 
to  find  its  way  to  Euroj'e  and  to  become  known  there,  at 
first  as  a  curiosity,  under  its  Spanish  name  of  "  platina  del 
Pinto  "  (tho  little  silver  from  tho  river  Pinto).  Itn  chemi- 
cal individuality  and  qualities  were  established  by  the 
successive  labours  of  Scheffer  (1752),  Murggraft  (1757), 
Bergmann  (1777),  and  others.  An  amateur,  Count  vnn 
Sickingen,  it  appears,  wns  the  first  who  succeeded  in  work 


190 


PLATINUM 


ing  the  metal  (1772)  ;-tlie  first  platinum  crucible  was  pro- 
duced by  Acliard  (1784).  AcUard's  mode  of  rendering  the 
nativo  metal  amenable  to  mechanical  working  was  founded 
upon  the  fact  that  it  forms  a  readily  fusible  alloy  with 
arsenic,  from  which  the  latter  can  be  driven  off  again  by 
intense  heating.  This  method  was  worked  industrially  for 
a  time,  but  subsequ&ntly  superseded  by  ^another  superior 
process,  w-hich  is  usually  credited  to  Wollaston,  because  it 
was  he  who,  after  having  wrought  it  as  a  rich  source  of 
revenue  for  years,  published  it  in  1828.  But  as  early  as 
1800  Knight  of  London  bad  published  all  that  is  essential 
in  the  process;  and  Messrs  Johnson,  Matthey,  &  Co.  in- 
form the  writer  that  Wollaston  obtained  the  secrets  of  both 
the  refining  and  the  compressing  of  the  spongy  into  com- 
pact metal  from  a  relative  of  theirs,  Thomas  Cock,  who, 
they  are  convinced,  is  the  true  inventor.  Undisputed 
merits  of  WoUaston's  are  his  discoveries  of  palladium  (1803) 
and  rhodium  (1804).  About  the  same  time  iridium  and 
osmium  were  discovered  by  Smithson  Tennant. 

Platinum  ore  well  deserves  its  cognomen  of  "polyxene," 
because  it  is  a  most  complex-  mixture  of  mineralogical 
species,  including  (1)  a  number  of  heavy  reguline  species 
designated  as  platinum,  osmiridium,  iron-platinum,  platin- 
iridium,  iridium,  palladium  (also  gold),  and  (2)  a  number 
of  non-metallic  species,  notably  chrome-iron  ore,  magnetic 
oxide  of  iron,  zircone,  corundum,  and  occasionally  also 
diamond.  The  reguline  components  always  form  detached 
granules,  which  are  generally  small,  but  occasionally  assume 
considerable  dimensions.  The  Demidoff  museum  contains 
a  native  platinum  lump  weighing  21  pounds  troy.  The 
ore,  as  already  stated,  was  discovered  first  in  South 
America  ;  it  is  found  there  chiefly  in  the  provinces  of  Choco 
and  Barbacos,  New  Granada,  and  also  in  Brazil.  It  occurs 
besides  in  San  Domingo,  in  California,  at  the  Rogue  river 
in  Oregon,  in  Canada,  and  in  the  island  of  Borneo.  But  the 
richest  deposits  are  those  of  the  Ural  Mountains ;  these 
were  discovered  about  1823,  and  have  been  wrought  by 
the  Russian  Government  since  about  1828.  Part  at  least 
of  the  Ural  ore,  as  Daubr^  showed,  was  embedded  origin- 
ally with  chrome-iron  in  a  serpentine  derived  from  olivine. 
The  very  variable  percentages  of  the  several  components 
range  appro.ximately  as  follows  : — platinum,  60  to  87  ; 
other  polyxene  metals  3  to  7;  gold  up  to  2  and  more;  iron 
4  to  12;  copper  0  to  4 ;  non-metallic  gangue  1  to  3. 

Platinum,  though  a  noble  metal  chemically,  has  too 
modest  an  appearance  to  lend  itself  muci^  to  the  jeweller's 
purposes.  The  Russian  Government  used,  for  a  while,  to 
strike  platinum  coins,  but  soon  came  to  give  up  the  prac- 
tice on  account  of  the  immense  fluctuations  in  the  commer- 
cial value  of  the  metal.  Almost  all  the  platinum  produced 
now-a-days  is  made  into  chemical  utensils.  Platinum,  in 
fact,  is  the  metal  of  the  chemist.  "  Without  platinum 
crucibles,  which  share  the  infusibility  of  porcelain  with  the 
chemical  inertness  of  gold  ones  the  competition  of  most 
minerals  could  not  have  been  ascertained  "  (Liebig),  and 
chemistry  generally  could  not  have  come  up  to  its  present 
leveL  In  industrial  chemistry  platinum  is  used  chiefly  for 
the  construction  of  those  stills  for  the  concentration  of  oil 
of  vitriol  which,  although  a  single  one  costs  a  fortune,  are 
cheaper  in  the  long  run  than  glass  retorts. 

The  technical  extraction  of  platinum  from  its  ore  is  to  the 
present  day  effected  everywhere  by  some  modification  or  other  of 
the  so-called  "Wollaston"  process.  Heraeus  of- Hanau  operates 
as  follows.  The  ore  is  digested  within  glass  retorts  in  aqua  regia 
iliUited  with  three  times  its  weight  of  water,  an  over-pressure  of 
some  12  inclics  of  water  being  established  within  the  retorts  to 
accelerate  the  process,  which  always  takes  several  days.  The 
w'hole  of  the  osmiridium,  along  with  more  or  less  of  other 
polyxene  metals,  and  the  "sand"  (corundum,  chrome-iron,  kc.) 
remain  undissolved,  as  a  heavy  black  deposit;  the  platinum, 
palladium,  part  of  the  rhodium,  and  more  or  less  of  the  other  three 


polyxene  metals  pass  into  solution,  the  platinum,  iridium,  and  p^-l- 
ladiuni  as  tetrachlorides.  From  the  clarified  solution  the  whoi; 
(almost)  of  the  platinum  can  be  precipitated  as  PtClg(NH4)j  by 
addition  of  a  large  excess  of  sal-ammoniac  ;  and  this  simple  process 
used  to  be  adoi)ted  formerly.  But  the  precipitate  then  include? 
much  cliloro-iridiate  of  ammonium  IrUljtJS'Hjo  and  other  impnri 
tics.  Heraeus,  therefore,  first  evaporates  to  dryness  and  heats  the 
residue  to  125°  C.  for  a  sufficient  time,  to  reduce  the  palladic  and 
iridic  chlorides  to  the  lower  stages  of  PdC%  and  Ir.^Clj,  w-hich  form 
soluble  double  salts  with  sal-ammoniac.  The  heated  residue  is 
dissolved  iu  water  acidulated  with  hydrochloric  acid,  the  solution 
filtered,  and  mixed  with  hot  concentrated  solution  of  sal-ainmoiiiac, 
when  a  (relatively)  pure  chloroplatinate  comes  down  as  a  yellow 
])recipitat6  (the  iridium  compound  is  dark-red),  wliich  is  washed, 
first  with  saturated  sal-ammoniac  solution,  tiien  with  dilute  hydro- 
chloric acid.  The  precipitate  needs  only  be  exposed  to  a  dull 
red  heat  to  be  converted  into  "spongy  platinum,"  i.e.,  metallic 
platinum  in  the  form  of  a  grey  porous  mass.  As  platinum  is 
infusible  even  at  tire  highest  temperature  producible  in  a  wind- 
furnace,  the  spongy  metal  caimot  bo  fused  together  into  a  regulus 
like  an  ordinary  metal ;  but  it  shares  with  WTOught  iron  the  rare 
quality  of  assuming  a  high  degree  of  softness  and  viscosity  at  a 
strong  red  heat ;  and  consequently  the  sponge,  after  a  preliminary 
compression  by  purely  mechanical  means,  needs  only  be  exposed  to 
a  strong  heat  to  "  frit "  into  a  coherent  mass  ;  and  this  riass,  by 
repeated  forging  at  a  white  heat  is  readily  made  into  a  perfectly 
homogeneous  compact  bar,  which,  as  the  metal  is  very  ductile,  is 
easily  rolled  out  into  sheet  or  diawn  into  wire.  In  the  former  form 
more  especially  it  goes  into  the  workshop  to  be  made  into  utensils. 

This  process  of  welding  ajt  the  tinve  of  Achard  (who  used  it  first) 
and  of  Knight  was  a  necessary  make-shift  ;  but  it  is  singular  that 
it  was  retained  long  after  the  invention  of  the  oxyhydrogen  blast 
(see  voL  xviii.  p.  105),  by  means  of  which  platinum  can  be  fused 
as  easily  as  lead  can  in  au  ordinary  fire.  With  the  oxyhydrogen- 
blowpipe  Hare,  as  early  as  1347,  fused  970  grammes  (upwards  of 
two  pounds)  of  platinum  into  one  regulus.  Yet  platinum  manu- 
facturers did  not  utilize  this  obvious  process  until  Deville  and 
-Debray,  in  1859,  again  demonstrated  its  practicability.  Their 
furnace  is  of  the  simplest  description.  Two  flat  pieces  of  quick- 
lime, scooped  out  so  as  to  represent  two  cupels,  are  placed  one 
upon  the  other  so  that  they  enclose  a  flat  space  similar  in  form  to 
two  superimposed  soup-plates.  The  lower  cupel  has  a  notch  rut 
out  of  its  side  to  serve  as  a  spout  for  poiiring  out  the  liquefied 
metal,  the  upper  and  shallower  one  is  pierced  with  a  central  slightly 
conical  round  hole  through  which  the  (platinum)  nozzle  of  the 
blowpipe  enters,  so  that  the  flame  flattens  itself  out  on  the  intro- 
duced metal.  By  means  of  this  simple  contrivance  Deville  and 
Debray  had  no  difficulty  in  fusing  as  much  as  twelve  kilogrammes 
of  platinum  into  one  regulus  ;  and  Messrs  Johnson,  Matthey,  k 
Co.  of  London  now  think  nothing  of  fusing  up  as  much  as  1000 
ounces  of  metal  in  one  operation.  A  regulus  made  under  Mr  Geo. 
Matthey's  superintendence  for  the  metric  commission  in  Paris  in 
187-4  weighed  one  quarter  of  a  ton. 

The  shaping  of  compact  platinum  is  effected  pretty  much  in  the 
same  way  as  that  of  gold  or  silver  ;  only  the  difficulties  are  less 
because  platinum,  unlike  the  two  ordinary  noble  metals,  is  sus- 
ceptible of  "welding";  i.-e.,  two  pieces  of  the  metal,  at  a  white 
heat,  can  be  united  into  one  by  a  stroke  of  the  hammer.  Soldering 
is  rarely  necessary;  it  used  to  be  effected  (and  still  is  occasionally) 
by  means  of  gold  as  a  connecting  medium  and  au  ordinary  blow- 
pipe. But  platinum  workers,  following  the  lead  of  Messrs  Johnson, 
Matthey,  k  Co.,  have  long  learned  to  unite  two  platinum  seams  by 
the  "autogenic"  process — the  local  fusing  of  the  two  contiguous 
parts  in  the  oxyhydrogen  flame. 

For  the  preparation  of  chemically  jiure  platinum  Schneider's 
process  is  the  one  most  easily  executed  and  explained.  The 
commercial  metal  is  dissolved  in  aqua  regia  and  the  excess  of 
nitric  acid  removed  by  evaporation  to  a  syrup  in  a  water-bath. 
The  residue  is  redissolved  in  water  and  boiled  for  a  long  time  with 
a  large  excess  of  potash-free  caustic  soda.  .If  care  be  taken  to  main- 
tain a  strong  alkaline  reaction,  all  the  foreign  polyxene  chlorides 
are  reduced  to  lower  forms  than  that  of  tetrachloride  ;  "while  only 
the  platinum  itself  retains  this  state  of  combination.  The  hypo- 
chlorite formed. is  then  reduced  (to  NaCl)  by  addition  of  a  little 
alcohol  to  the  boilin^  alkaline  liquid,  which  is  now  allowed  to  cool' 
and  acidified  strongly  with  hydrochloric  acid  so  as  to  redissolve 
any  hydrated  platinic  oxide  which  may  have  been  precipitated  by 
the  first  instalments  of  acid.  The  liquid  at  last  is  filtered,  and 
precipitated  by  sal-ammoniac  to  obtain  a  ptire  chloroplatinate 
(PtCl5(NH4),),  which,  on  ignition,  of  course,  yields  an  equally  pure 
spongy  metal. 

Pure  compact  platinum  is  a  tin-white  metal  about  as  soft  as  pur* 
copper  and  nearly  (but  not  quite)  equal  in  plasticity  to  gold. 
The  specific  gravity  of  the  fused  metal  is  21  '48  to  21  '50  at  17° -6  C, 
(Deville  and  Debray).  The  breaking  strain  is  34'1  kilos  for  hari 
drawn  and  23 '5  kilos  for  annealed  wires  ;  the  modulus  of  elasticit} 
15,618  (kilogramme  and  millimetre!  as  units  ;   by  Werthuui's  ez- 


I'  L  A  T  r  N   U  ]\I 


ini 


j)eriments  on  aiinoaled  wcldod  wire).  L'nit  length  of  tliu  (fnseu} 
metal  exjiaiiils  by  0  000907  from  0°  to  100°  C.  (Fizean).  The 
specific  conductivity  for  heat  at  12"  C.  is  8'4,  for  electricity  at  0°C. 
16'4  (silver- 100).  The  statement  regarding  electricity  refcrstoths 
annealed  metal.  The  fusinc;  point,  according  to  recent  determina- 
tion by  Violle,  is  1779  C. ;  the  sanio  experimenter  finds  for  the  true 
specific  heat  5Q/«  =  0-03I7  +  0000012<  (centigrade  scale).  When 
platinum  is  heated  beyond  its  fusing  point,  it  soon  begins  to  vola- 
tilize. The  fused  metal,  like  silver,  absorbs  oxygen,  and  consequently 
"spits  "  on  freezing.  At  a  red  heat  the  then  viscid  metal,  as  Graham 
las  shown,  "occludes"  hydrcgengas;  i.e.,  it  dissolves  tlicgas  (just 
a.s,  for  instance,  liquid  water  would),  which  explains  the  fuct  pre- 
viously discovered  by  Deville  that  a, platinum  tube,  although  it 
may  be  perfectly  gas-tight  in  the  cold,  at  a  red  heat  allows  hydrogen 
(but  not,  for  instance,  oxygen,  nitrogen,  or  carbonic  acid)  to  pass 
through  its  walls.  According  to  Graham  the  quantity  of  gas 
ocrlujed  is  independent  of  the  surface  of  the  metal  operated  on, 
but  proportional  to  its  weight.  No  gas  is  taken  up  in  the  cold  ; 
but  the  gas  occluded  at  a  red  heat,  though  extractablo  at  that 
temperature  by  means  of  an  absolute  vacuum  as  producible  by  a 
Sprengel  pump  (see  MEiicuniAL  AiK  Pl'MP,  vol.  xvi.  p.  30),  is 
retained  on  cooling  and  cannot  be  thus  liberated  at  the -ordinary 
temperature.  The  volume  of  hydrogen  absorbed  by  nnit-volunie 
of  metal  at  a  red  heat  under  one  atmosphere's  pressure  was  found, 
in  the  case  of  fused  metal,  to  vary  from  0'13  to  0'21  volume 
measured  cold ;  in  the  case  of  merely  welded  metal,  from  2 '34  to 
3 '8  volumes  (compare  Palladium  below).  Oxygen  gas,  tliough 
absorbed  by  the  liquid,  is  not  occluded  by  the  solid  metal  at  any 
temperature,  but  when  brought  in  contact  with  it  at  moderate  tem- 
peratures suffers  considerable  condensation  at  its  surface.  The 
thin  condensed  film  of  oxygen  exiiibits  a  high  degree  of  chemical 
activity  :  a  perfectly  clean  piece  of  platinum  foil,  when  immersed  in 
a  mixture  of  hydrogen  or  ammonia  gr  other  combustible  gas  and  air, 
begins  to  glow  and  starts  a  process  of  slow  combustion  or  there  may 
be  an  explosion.  The  spongy  metal  of  course  exhibits  a  very  high 
degree  of  activity:  a  jet  of  hydrogen  gas  when  made  to  strike 
against  a  layer  of  spongy  platinum  causes  it  to  glow  and  takes  fire. 
This  is  the  principle  of  the  (now  defunct)  Dbbereiner  lamp.  But 
the  most  striking  effects  are  produced  by  a  peculiar  kind  of  very 
finely  divided  platinum,  which  was  discovered  by  Licbig  and  called 
by  him  platinum  black  on  account  of  its  resejfiblance  to  lamp-black. 
A  particularly  active  "bla?k"  is  produced  by  dropping  platinum 
chloride  solution  into  a  boilingniixture  of  three  volumes  ot  glycerin 
and  two  of  caustic  potash  of  1  '08  specific  gravity.  Platinum  black, 
according  to  Eiebig,  absorbs  800  times  its  volume  of  oxygen  fVoni 
the  air,  and  in  virtue  thereof  is  a  most  active  oxidizing  agent, 
which,  in  general,  acts  "catalytically  "  because  the  black,  after 
having  given  up  its  oxygen  to  tne  oxidizable  .substance  present,  at 
once  takes  up  a  fresh  supply  from  the  atmosphere.  For  examples 
see  Feumentation,  vol.  ix.  pp.  94-98. 

Platinum  Alloys. 

Platinum  alloys  of  almost  any  kind  are  easily  produced  syntheti- 
cally; and,  as  a  rule,  a  temperature  little  if  at  all  above  the  fusing 
poiu<  of  the  more  fusible  component  suffices  to  start  the  union. 
We  will  begin  with  the  cases  in  which  the  metal  combines  with 
another  mcjiibcr  of  its  own  family.  Iridium. — In  the  heat  of  an 
oxyhydrogeii  flame  the  two  metals  unite,  permanently  in  all  pro- 
portions. The  alloy  has  pretty  much  the  appearance  of  platinum, 
but  it  is  less  fusible,  harder,  ni%i-e  clastic,  specifically  heavier,  and 
less  readily  attacked  bv  aqua  rcgia, — all  these  iiualities  increasing  as 
the  percentage  of  iridium  increases.  Tlie  19  per  cent,  alloy  was 
produced  for  tlie  first  time  by  G.  Matthcy.  It  has  the  hardness 
and  elasticity  of  soft  steel  (modulus  of  eIastieity-22,000  for  milli- 
metre and  kilogramme),  and  is  hardly  attacked  by  aqua  regla. 
Alloys  richer  in  iridium  are  difficult  to  work.  The  10  per  cent, 
alloy  on  tlio  other  hand  still  retains  enough  of  the  virtues  referred 
to  to  be  far  superior  to  platinum  itself— i)erhap3  wo  might  s.ay,  to 
any  other  solid — as  a  material  for  standard  measures  of  length 
or  weight.  In  1870  Messi-s  Johnson,  llatthey,  &  Co.  exhibited  a 
standard  metre  made  of  this  alloy,  and  it  gave  such  unqualified 
satisfartion  that  the  international  metric  committee  which  sat  in 
Paris  some  years  ago  ndojited  it  for  tho  construction  of  their 
standards.  Jlhodiiim. — An  alloy  of  30  per  cent,  of  tliis  metal  and 
70  of  platinum  is  absolutely  proof  against  aqua  regia,  but  is  very 
expensive.  Devillo  and  Debriiy  once  elaborated  an  igneous  process 
for  producing,  directly  from  the  ore,  a  triple  alloy  of  platinum,  iri- 
dium, and  rhodium,  which  is  quite  workable  and,  besiiles  being  more 
highly  infusible  than  platinum,  is  almost  proof  against  aqua  regia. 
Crucibles  made  of  this  alloy  used  to  be  sold  in  Paris  and  elsewhero 
at  moderate  prices  ;  but  they  are  now  no  longer  to  be  had.  Gold. 
— This  metal  unites  with  platinum  in  all  proportions,  forming 
greyish-yellow  or  greyish-white  alloys.  A  graduated  series  of  these 
alloys  was  recommended  by  Schertcl  and  Khrhard  as  a  means  for 
drfiuing  certain  ranges  of  high  temperatures.  According  to  their 
experiuitfnts,  v/hilo  tho  fiisingpoint  for  gold  was  1075°  C. ,  and  for 
platinum  1775°.  it  was  1130°  for  10  per  cunt,  of  platinum,  llOO" 


for  20,  1255°  for  30,  1320'  for  40,  1385"  for  50,  1460°  for  60,  1535* 
for  70,  1610°  for  80,  and  1690°  for  90  per  cent.  Silver  am) 
platinum  unite  readily  in  any  proportion,  but  the  alloys  arc  in 
general  liable  to  "liqiiation"  (see  Metals,  vol.  xvi.  p.  67).  Kow 
platinum  is  as  proof  against  nitric  acid  as  gold;  and  yet  thcss 
alloys  cannot,  like  gold-silver,  be  parted  by  means  of  nitric  acid  ; 
because,  if  tho  alloy  is  rich  enough  in  silver  to  be  at  all  attacked  by 
the  acid,  part  at  least  of  the  platinum  passes  into  solution  along 
with  the  silver.  But  concentrated  oil  of  vitriol  effects  a  sharp 
separation;  the  platinum  remains.  A  considerable  variety  of 
alloys  of  platinum  with  other  noble  metals  are  used  in  mechanical 
dentistry.  The  following  examples  may  be  quoted:— 667  pel 
cent,  of  gold  and  33  of  platinum  ;  platinum  50,  silver  25,  palladium 
25  ;  platinum  417,  gold  25,  palladium  33-3. 

Of  the  great  variety  of  alloys  of  platinum  with  base  metals  which 
Lave  been  recommended  as  substitutes  for  noble  metals  or  other 
wise  we  select  the  following  : — 


Platinum. 

'Siiver. 

Copiier. 

lln. 

Brnss. 

Klckel. 

1 

19 

0 

1 

0 

0 

0 

2 

1 

0 

26 

0 

0 

0 

3 

2 

1 

5 

0 

2 

1 

4 

1 

0 

0 

10 

0 

100 

5 

1 

2 

0 

20 

0 

100 

« 

0-5 

0 

0 

15 

0 

100 

7 

20 

0 

0 

20 

0 

(00 

8 

5  to  10 

0 

0 

0 

120 

60 

(IJ  iCiiown  ro  jcwellei's  and  dentihts  as  hai'U  platinum  ;  (2)  a  rosc-cgloured  fine- 
grained ductile  alloy;  (3)  Iiitioduced  by  Bolzanl  In  Palis  as  an  imitation  pold : 
(4  to  7)  pktlnum  bronzes,  recommended— .<4)  for  knife  and  fork  handles,  (5)  for 
belts,  (6)  fur  articles  de  luxe,  (7)  for  telescopts  ;  (6)  not  subject  to  oxidation. 

Platinum  Compounds. 

Platinum  is  not  changed  by  air,  water,  or  steam  at  any  tempera- 
ture. It  is  nioof  against  tho  action  of  all  ordinary  single  acids, 
including  hydrofluoric,  in  tho  heat  or  cold.  Aqua  regia  (a  mixture 
of  hydiochloiic  and  nitric  acids)  dissolves  it  slowdy  as  chloro- 
platinic  acid  PtCigH,.  The  metal  is  not  attacked  by  even  very 
strong  boiling  caustic  potash  or  soda  ley,  nor  is  it  changed  by 
fusion  with  carbonate  of^  soda  or  potash.  Carbonate  of  lithia,  and 
tho  hydrates  of  potash,  soda,  and  baryta,  however,  when  fused  in 
platinum  vessels,  attack  them  strongly,  with  formation  of  com- 
pounds of  PtOn  with  the  respective  bases.  According  to  recent 
experiments  by  the  writer,  none  of  these  reactions  go  on  in  the 
absence  of  air  ;  hence,  for  instance,  a  fusion  with  caustic  baryta  or 
potash  can  safely  be  carried  out  in  a  platinum  crucible  if  the  latter 
IS  protected  by  an  atmosphere  of  hydrogen  or  nitrogen.  Fused 
hepar  (alkaline  sulphide)  (lissolves  platinum  at  a  red  heat ;  so  does 
fused  cyanide  of  potassium,  especially  if  mixed  yith  caustic  potash. 

Chloroplatinic  Acid. — The  solution  of  the  metal  in  aqua  regia  is 
evaporated  down  repeatedly  in  a  water  bath  with  hydrochloric 
acid  to  destroy  the  excess  of  nitric  acid  and  the  very  concentrated 
solution  allowed  to  stand,  when  the  acid  gradually  separates  out  in 
brown-red  deliquescent  crystals  of  the  composition  PtC^HJ-^6HJ0, 
which  are  abundantly  soluble  in  water  and  also  easily  in  even 
strong  alcohol.  The  aqueous  solution,  if  free  of  iridium  and 
platinous  chlorides,  is  of  a  rich  but  clear  yellow  colour  free  of  any 
tingo  of  brown.  The  "chloride  of  platinum"  solution  of  tho 
analyst  is  an  aqueous  solution  of  this  acid.  A\  hen  the  solution  is 
mixed  with  those  of  certain  chlorides,  the  2IIC1  are  displaced  by 
their  equivalent  of  metallic  chloriile,  and  metallic  "chloroplatin- 
ales "  are  produced.  Of  these  the  potassium  (rubidium  and 
ca'siuin)  and  the  ammonium  salts  are  most  easily  prepared, — by 
addition  of  tho  respective  chlorides  to  a  moderately  strong  solution 
of  chloroplatinic  acid  ;  they  come  down  almost  completely  as  palo 
yellow  crystalline  precipitates,  little  soluble  in  cold  water  and  very 
nearly  insoluble  in  alcohol.  The  sodium  salt  PtCI«Na;j-f6H,(l 
and  the  littiium  salt  PtCl„U,-f6H,0  are  iwidily  soluble  in  water 
and  in  aqueous  alcohol  (tho  Li.,-compound  dissolves  even  in  ab- 
solute alcohol);  hcnco  "chloriile  of  platinum"  is  used  for  tho 
separation  of  K,  Nil,,  lib,  Cs  from  Na  and  Li.  On  tho  other  hand 
chloride  of  potassium  or  ammonium  may  .servo  as  o  precii'itnnt 
for  platinum,  but  in  this  case  a  largo  excess  of  a  concentrated 
solution  of  the  precipitant  must  bo  used  to  bring  the  solubility  of 
tho  chloroplalinato  precipitate  to  it.H  minimum.  Gold,  copper, 
iron,  and  many  other  metals  not  belonging  to  the  polyxeno  group, 
if  present,  remain  dissolved.  Real  ptnliiiic  clihridt;  PtClj,  can  be 
produced  from  tho  acid  PlCl„IIj  only  by  precipitating  from  its 
solution  the  chlorine  of  the  2licl  by  the  exart  equivniciit  of  nitrnte 
of  silver.  The  filtrate  when  evaporated  (cold)  over  vitriol  deposits 
red  crystals  of  the  composition  PlCl^-l- 511.0.  When  chloropla- 
tinic acid  is  hented  to  300°  C.  it  loses  its  2IICI  and  half  the  chloriiio 
of  its  PtCI,  and  platinous  chloride,  PtCI,,  remains  as  a  dull  gicen 
powder,  insoluble  in  water  but  soluble  in  aqueous  hydrochloric 
aciil.  Kither  chloride  when  heated  to  redness  leaves  sj^oiigy 
metal.     The  hydrochloric  solution  of  platinous  chluride,   when 


192 


PLATINUM 


evaporated  with  one  of  cliloriJe  of  potassium  to  a  sufficiently 
small  volume,  deposits  rose-coloured  crystals  of  a  double  salt 
PtCU  l-2KCl  =  PtCl4Kj.  From  a  solution  of  this  double  salt 
plali'nous  hydrate,  Ptc'OH),,  is  obtained,  by  boiling  it  with  the 
calculated  quantity  of  caustic  soda,  as  a  black  precipitate,  which, 
when  gently  heated,  becomes  anhydrous.  Plalinic  hydrate,  Pt(OH)j, 
is  obtained  by  boiling  chloroplatinic  arid  solution  with  excess  of 
caustic  soda  and  then  acidifying  with  acetic  acid,  as  an  almost 
white  precipitate,  rt(OH)4  +  '2H„0,  which  loses  its  2H2O  at  100°  C. 
and  becomes  brown  ;  at  a  certain  higher  temperature  it  loses  all 
its  water  and  asbumes  the  form  of  the  black  anhydride  PtOj.  Both 
oxides  are  bases  in  so  far  as  their  hydrates  combine  with  a 
limited  number  of  acids;  towards  stronw  bases  they  behave  as 
feeble  acids.  Only  a  few  of  the  salts  of  the  acid  FtO,  have  been 
investigated.  Either  oxide  when  heated  to  redness  breaks  up 
into  oxygen  and  metal. 

Platin- Ammonium  Coinpouiicls.  —In  this  very  numerous  family  of 
bodies  a  compound  radical  containing  platinum  and  some  ammonia 
residue  plays  the  part  of  a  basilous  metal.  The  first  member 
was  discovered  by  Magnus  in  1828.  By  adding  ammonia  to  a 
hydrochloric  solution  of  platinous  chloride,  he  obtained  a  green 

tirecipitate   of  the  composition    PtCIj.NjH.,  which  soon  became 
mown  as  "Magnus's  grr»n  salt,"  and  served  as  a  starting  point  for 
subsequent  investigations. 

Plaliiiocyanides. — These  were  discovered  by  L.  Gmelin,  who 
obtained  the  potassium  salt  Pt(NC)4K;  by  fusing  the  metal  with 
prussiate  of  potash.  Martius's  method  is  more  convenient : 
chbroplatinate  of  ammonia  is  heated  in  a  stVong  mixed  solution 
of  caustic  potash  and  cyanide  of  potassium  as  long  as  ammonia 
is 'going  oif.  The  solution  on  cooling  deposits  crystals  contain- 
ing 3H^0  of  water,  which  appear  yellow  in  transmitted  and 
blue  in  reflected  light.  From  the  potash  salt  numerous  other 
platinocyanides  can  be  made  by  doul)lc  decompositions  ;  and  a  very 
interesting  series  is  derived  from  these  by  the  adilition  of  chlorine 
or  bromine.  All  these  bodies  are  distinguished  by  their  magnificent 
fluorescence. 

The  Polijitie  Metals  Oenerally. 

The  metals  all  exist  in  the  three  forms  of  "Xlack,"  "sponge," 
and  compact  regulus.  The  colours  of  the  compact  metals  are  shades 
of  white,  except  in  the  case  of  osmium,  which  forms  blue'crystals. 
Platinum,  palladium,  and  rhodium  arc  ductile  ;the  rest  break  under 
the  hammer.'  In  regard  to  specific  gravity  thi^  arrange  themselves 
into  two  groups  as  shown  by  the  following  table,. which  at  the  same 
time  gives  the  atomic  weights  (these  of  Pt  and  Ir  according  to 
Seubert)  and  the  formulae  of  the  most  stable  chlorides  : — 


Name. 

Atomic  Weight. 
0  =  16. 

Specific 
Gravity. 

Cbloildea. 

Platinum . 

Iridium    

Pt  =194-8 
Ir  =193-0 
Os  =195 
Pd -106-6 
Rh-104-3 
Ru  =  103-8 

21-50 

22-38 

22-48 

11-4 

12-1 

12-26 

PtClj ;  PtCl., 
Ir.Cl,. 

(?) 
PdCl,. 
Rh.Cl,,. 
Ru.Clj  +  arRa. 

Osmium 

Palladium .. 

Rhodium .-. 

Hnthenium....^ 

The  order  of  fusibility  is  as  follows :— Pd,  Pt,  Ir,  Rh,  Ru,  Os. 
Palladium  almost  fuses  in  the  strongest  heat  of  a  wind  furnace, 
but  like  the  four  metals  following  requires  an  oxyhydrogen  flame 
for  its  real  fusion  ;  osmium  has  never  been  fused  at  all  ;  but  it 
volatilizes  abundantly  at  the  highest  temperature  producible  by  the 
oxyhydrogen  blast. 

''Action  of  Air, — Platinum  and  palladium  do  not  oxidize  at  any 
temperature  ;  rhodium  also  does  not  oxidize  by  itself,  but  when 
cupelled  with  lead  it  remains  as  monoxide  RhO.  Compact  iridium 
does  not  oxidize  appreciably  even  in  the  heat ;  but  the  finely-divided 
metal,  at  some  temperature  below  800°  C,  suffers  gradual  conversion 
into  Ir^O.,,  which  when  heated  more  strongly  begins  to  dissociate  at 
800°,  and  is  completely  reduced  at  1000°  C.  Ruthenium  draws  a  film 
of  oxide  in  even  cold  air  ;  at  a  red  heat  it  passes  into  Ru^Oj,  which 
retains  its  oxygen  at  a  white  heat.  Osmium  (the  finely-divided 
metal),  when  heated  in  air  to  about  400°  C,  takes  fire  and  burns  into 
vapour  of  tetroxide,  OsO^.  This  and  tlie  analogous  ruthenium 
compound  are  the  onlj  volatile  oxides  of  the  group. 

Water. — None  of  our  metals  seem  to  decompose  water  or  steam 
et  any  temperature. 

Hydrochloric  A  cid  acts  slowly  on  palladium  in  the  nresence  of  air; 
6therwise  there  is  no  action  in  any  case. 

Hot  Nitric  Acid  dissolves  palladium  as  nitrate  Pd(N03)j,  and 
converts  finely  divided  osmium  into  tetroxide  vapour.  Compact 
osmium,  and  platinum,  iridium,  and  rhodium  in  any  form,  are  not 
Sttacked  by  the  acid. 

1  lit  still  remnms  in  be  seen  hnwfarthls  latter  statement  holds  for  the  absolutely 
pare  metjil-*.  "Nlr  tJeorte  Matihev  Ii.t:  snfcecdni  in  produciiii^lildium  wU-e,  wliitii 
£ould  be  bent  Into  a  lo'>i)  witNout  bivai.i<ii/. 


Aqua  Hcgia,  in  the  heat,  dissolves  palladium  (very  readily)  and 
platinum  (somewhat  more  slowly)  as  MeCljHj ;  only  "the  palladium 
compound  is  very  unstable,  being  completely  reduced  to  dichloride, 
PdClj,  by  mete  evaporation  over  a  water-bath.  Iridium  black, 
or  iridium  alloyed  with  much  platinum,  dissolves  slowly  as 
IrCljHj,  readily  reducible  (by,  for  instance,  addition  of  alcohol,  or 
evaporation  to  dryness  and  heating  of  the  residue  to  about  150°  C.) 
to  li'oCL.  Compact  iridium,  like  ruthenium  or  rhodium,  is  hardly 
attacked  even  by  the  hot  acid ;  rhodium  exhibits  the  highest 
degree  of  stability.  Native  osmiridium  is  not  touched  by  aqoA 
regia.     Osmium,  in  the  heat  at  least,  becomes  tetroxide. 

Free  Chlorine  combines  directly  with  all  polyxene  metals'at 
suitable  temperatures.  As  a  disintegrator  it  is  useful  chiefly  for 
the  manipulation  of  osmiridium  and  other  such  platinum-or» 
components  as  refuse  to  dissolve  in  aqua  regia.  The  action  of  th» 
gas  is  greatly  facilitated  by  the  presence  of  fixed  alkaline  chloride.' 

Polyxene  Oxides  and  Salts, 

Monoxides  have  been  produced  from  platinum,  palladium, 
ruthenium,  and  osmium.  PtO  and  PdO  are  decided,  the  other  tw» 
are  very  feeble  bases. 

Sesquioxides,  McoOj,  have  been  got  from  rhodium,  iridium,  ruthe- 
nium, and  osmium.     All  are  basic. 

Binoxides,  Me02,  exist  from  all  the  metals  except  rhodium.  PdO^ 
like  PtO„  (see  above),  is  basic  or  feebly  acid  ;  IrOj  is  a  feeble  basej 
RuOj  anil  OsOj  are  neutral. 

Telroxidcs,  MeO^,  are  formed  by  osmium  and  ruthenium  onlji 
Both  OsOj  and  RiiOj  are  easily  fusible  and  very  volatile  solid^ 
Their  vapours  have  a  most  powerful  smell  and  are  most  dangerously 
poisonous. 

Trioxidex  and  Heptoxides  do  not  exist  as  substances  ;  but  th» 
groups  RuOj,  O3O3,  and  RjO,  unite  with  alkalies  into  soluble  salts 
analogous  to  chromates  and  permanganates  in  their  constitutio 
respectively.  The  oxides  MeO,  MejOj,  MeO,  are  as  a  rule  pr»- 
parable  by  evaporatfng  a  solution  of  the  respective  chloride  or 
potassio-  kc.  chloride  to  dryness  with  excess  of  carbonate  of  sod% 
heating  the  residivp  to  dull  redness,  and  removing  the  alkalint 
chloride  and  excess  of  carbonate  by  lixiviation  with  water.  The 
oxides  remain  as  very  dark-coloured  powders  insoluble  in  acids.' 
The  corresponding  hydrates  are  precipitated  from  the  solutions  of 
the  chlorides  or  potassio-  &c.  chlorides,  on  addition  of  excess  of 
caustic  potash  or  soda  and  heating.  These  hydrates  of  the  oxidci 
are  soluole  in  certain  aqueous  acids  with  formation  of  salts,  and  iB 
this  limited  sense  only  the  "oxides"  can  be  said  to  be  "bases." 

Salts. — Of  these  the  most  characteristic  and  the  best  known  ar* 
compounds  of  certain  of  their  chlorides  with  alkaline  chlorides. 

1.  The  compounds  MeCl^R^  (chloroplatinates  and  analogues),' 
formed  by  all  polyxene  metals,  except  rnodium,  are  all  crystallin* 
salts,  more  or  less  soluble  in  water  but  as  a  rule  insoluble  or  nearly  s* 
in  alcohol.  The  acids  MeCljHj,  in  which  Me  is  not  platinum,  exist 
only  as  unstable  solution,  which  by  the  action  of  excess  of  causne 
soda  in  the  heat,  if  not  by  the  action  of  a  gentle  heat  alone,  are  all 
reduced  to  lower  chlorides  ;  only  the  platinum  compound  possesses 
a  higher  degree  of  stability. 

2.  Chlorides,  MeCI,,  ami  potassio-  &c.  chlorides,  MeCl  R.  exist 
only  in  the  platinum  and  palladium  series. 

3.  Hexachloridcs,  Me^Clj,  and  compounds  thereof  with  othoc 
chlorides  are  formed  ontj"  bv  rhodium,  iridium,  and  ruthenium. 

Preparation  of  the  Rarer  Polyxene  Metals. 

For  this  the  residues  obtained  in  the  industrial  extraction  of 
platinum  from  the  ore  form  the  natural  raw  material.  Thes»| 
residues  are  two  in  number, — (1)  that  part  of  the  ore  which  resistedj 
the  action  of  aqua  regia  (we  will  call  it  the  osmiridium  residueV 
and  (2)  the  filtrate  from  the  chloroplatinate  of  ammonia. 

1.  Part  of  the  osmiridium  in  the  first  residue  consists  of  scales 
or  grains  so  hard  that  they  cannot  be  powdered  even  in  a  steel 
mortar.  They  must  be  reduced  to  a  fine  powder,  which  is  best 
done  by  fusing  them  up  with  eight  to  ten  parts  of  zinc  and  then 
driving  off  the  "solvent"  in  a  wind-furnace.  The  osnriridium 
remains  as  a  dark  friable  mass,  which  is  easily  powdered  and  in- 
corporated with  the  originally  sifted-ofT  part.  The  disintegration 
of  the  residue  may  then  be  efl"ected,  according  to  Wdhler,  by 
mixing  it  with  its  own  weight  of  common  salt  and  exposing  the 
mixture  to  a  current  of  chlorine  at  a  dull  red  heat  within  a  com- 
bustion tube.  If  the  chlorine  is  moist  much  of  the  osmium  goes  off 
as  vapour  of  tetroxide,  which  must  bo  collected  in  solution  of  caustic 
potash.  After  complete  chlorination  the  contents  of  the  tube  are 
treated  with  water,  when  as  a  rule  some  undisintegrated'osmiridinm 
remains  which  is  filtered  oflT.  .The  solution  is  mixed  with  nitria 
acid  and  distilled  as  long  as  any  osmic  tetroxide  vapours  are  going 
off,  which  are,  readily  recognized  by  their  powerful  pungent  smell, 
and  of  course  must  be  carefully  collected  in  caustic  potash  ley- 
The  residual  liquor  (which  contains  the  iridium  as  IrCl,Naj)  is 
supersaturated  with  carbonata  of  soda,  and; evaporated  to  oryoe:^ 


P.LATINUM 


193 


the  residue  kept  at  a  dull  rod  licnl  and  then  lixiviated  villi  water. 
AlkalifcroHS  oxide  of  iridium,  IroOj,  remains  as  a  blue-blaok  powder, 
which  needs  only  be  heated  in  hydrogen  to  be  reduced  to  metal,  from 
which  the  alttali  is  now  easily  removed  by  washing  with  water. 
Such  iridium  is  always  contaminated  with  more  or  less  osmium, 
ruthenium,  rhodium,  and  platinum,  to  remove  wliich  the  crude 
metal  is  fused  up  with  ten  parts  of  lead,  and  the  alloy  treated  with 
dilute  nitric  acid  to  dissolve  the  bulk  of  the  lead,  when  the 
polyxene  metals  remain  in  the  shape  of  a  black  powder.  From  this 
the  platinum  is  extracted  by  prolonged  treatment  with  dilute  aqua 
regia,  and  from  the  residue  the  rhodium  by  fusion  with  bisulplmte 
of  potash  and  subsequent  treatment  with  water,  wdiich  dissolves 
away  tlie  sulphate  of  rhodium  foraied.  The  residue  now  left  is 
fused  in  a  gold  crucible  with  ten  parts  of  caustic  and  three  of 
nitrate  of  potash,  when  the  ruthenium  and  osmium  assume  the  form 
of  soluble  MeOjKjO  salts,  which  are  extracted  with  water  and  thus 
reraovea.  What  remains  is  an  alkaliferous  (blue)  sesquioxido  of 
iridium,  which  as  a  rule  still  retains  some  iron,  ruthenium,  and 
traces  of  gold  and  silica  (G.  Matthey).  For  the  final  purification 
of  the  metal  and  the  recovering  of  the  ruthenium  and  rhodium  see 
G.  Matthey's  memoir  (Chem.  Soc.  Joum.,  1879,  Abstr.,  p.  772) 
and  chemical  handbooks. 

The  osmium,  as  already  stated,  is  obtained  at  an  early  stage 
of  the  process  in  the  shape  of  a  solution  of  its  volatile  tetroxide 
in  caustic  potash.  This  solution  is  mixed  with  a  little  alcohol  to 
bring  the  osmium  into  the  state  of  osmite,  K, 0  +  .x'OsO.,,  which  is 
insoluble  in  alcohol.  This  precipitate  is  digested  in  sal-ammoniac, 
to  convert  it  into  a  yellow  compound  of  the  composition 
2NH4Cl  +  OsO.;(NH3)j„  which  latter  needs  only  bo  heated  in  hydro- 
gen to  be  converted  into  finely  divided  metallic  osmium. 

2.  The  second  residnqconsistsof  a  solution  of  a  variety  of  polyxene 
chlorides  in  sal-ammoniac.  This  liquor  is.  kept  in  contact  with 
metallic  iron,  when  the  dissolved  polyxene  metals,  and  any  gold  or 
copper  present,  come  down  as  a  black  heavy  precipitate.  This 
precijiitate  includes  all  the  palladium  and  part  of  the  rhodium  as 
principal  components.  Bunsen  has  worked  out  an  exhaustive 
method  for  the  extracting  of  all  its  polyxene  metals  in  pure  forms ; 
but  it  is  too  complicated  to  be  reproduced  here.'  The  customary 
method  for  extracting  the  palladium  is  to  treat  the  metallic  preci- 
pitate with  aqua  regia,  which  dissolves  the  palladium  and  platinum 
along  with  some  of  the  iridium  and  -rhodium,  to  filter,  evaporate 
the  residue  to  a  syrup  (for  bringing  the  palladium  into  the  form  of 
PdCIj),  redissolve  and  precipitate  the  palladium  by  addition  of  the 
exact  quantity  of  mercuric  cyanide  as  cyanide  rd(NC')2.  This 
cyanide  needs  only  be  ignited  strongly  to  leave  a  residue  of  metal. 
But  this  metal  includes  at  least  part  of  the  copper  of  the  original 
material.  To  remove  it  and  other  impurities,  the  crude  metal  is 
dissolved  in  hydrochloric  acid  with  the  help  of  free  chlorine^  and 
the  solution  next  evaporated  to  dryness  to  reduce  the  PdCljH^  to 
PdClj.  The  chloride  is  redissolvcd,  the  solution  mixed  with 
enough  of  ammonia  to  redissolvo  the  precipitate  first  produced, 
and  hydrochloric  acid  gas  is  now  passed  into  the  solution.  Yellow 
palladiochloride  of  ammonium,  PdCl4(NHj)5,  is  precipitated,  while 
copper  and  iron  remain  dissolved.  After  removal  of  the  mother 
liquor  the  double  salt  is  ignited  and  thus  converted  into  palladium- 
sponge,  which  is  easily  fused  up  in  the  oxyhydrogen  flame  and 
thus  Drought  into  the  form  of  regulus. 

Notes  on  Palladium,  Osvxiv.m,  and  Osmiridium. 

Palladium,  a  silver-white  metal  of  great  ductility,  is  much 
used,  notwithstanding  its  high  price,  in  mechanical  dentistry  and 
occasionally  also  for  the  graduated  limbs  of  theodolites  and  other 
instruments,  because,  unlike  silver,  it  remains  bright  in  sulphur- 
etted hydrogen. 

Of  all  the  properties  of  this  metal  the  most  remarkable  is  its  extra- 
ordinary power  of  "occluding"  hydrogen.  According  to  Graham 
(to  whom  wo  owe  almost  all  our  knowledge  on  the  subject)  the 
compact  metal  when  immersed  in  cold  hydrogen  gas  takes  up  none 
or  at  most  very  little  of  it ;  but  at  higher  temperatures  very  con- 
siderable occlusions  take  pdace.  A  certain  specimen  of  foil  was 
found  to  occlude  620  volumes  of  the  gas  at  245°  C,  and  643  at  90° 
to  97°  C. ,  measured  at  17°'5  to  18°  and  one  atmosphere's  pressure, 
per  unit-volume  of  metal.  The  hydrogen,  as  in  the  case  of 
platinum,  is  retained  on  cooling,  and  from  the  cold  compound 
cannot  be  extracted  by  means  of  an  absolute  vacuum,  which  re- 
extracts  the  gas  at  a  red  heat. 

Far  more  striking  results  can  be  obtained  by  using  pa-Uadium 
as  a  negative  pole  in  the  electrolysis  of  (acidulated)  water.  The 
coofTicientof  occlusion  then  assumes  very  high  values  ;  in  Graham's 
hands  it  attained  ita  maximum  when  the  palladium'was  produced 
electrolytically  from  a  1  C  per  cent,  solution  of  its  chloride,  and 
thus  hydrogsuixed  while  itself  in  tlio  nascent  state.  The  galvani- 
cally  deposited  sheet  was  fcund  to  contain  982  volumes  of  hydrogen 
(measured  cold)  per  unit-volume  of  original  metal.  corK'spjU'Iiii/ 

'  Jahrub.  d.  C/umi<,  latiU,  p.  3a0:  Ann.  d,  Chemit,  vul.  cilvL  M&. 


approximately  to  t1io  formula  Pd^Hj  for  the  compotind.  'When 
palladium  unites  with  (nascent  or  free)  hydrogen  it  sufl'ers  a  vei'y 
appreciable  expansion  which  on  the  removal  of  the  hydrogen  is 
followed  by  a  contraction  beyond  the  original  volume  of  the  plain 
metal.  This  can  be  most  beautifully  illustrated  by  electrolysing 
water  in  an  apparatus  in  which  the  negative  electrode  consists  of 
a  long  strip  of  palladium-foil  of  wliich  one  side  is  covered  over  with 
varnish  or  electrolytically  deposited  platinum.  The  hydrogen  goes 
in  at  the  bare  side  of  the  electrode  ;  this  side  consequently  expands 
more  strongly  than  the  other  and  the  originally  straight  strip  of 
metal  becomes  curved.  When  the  current  is  reversed,  hydrogen 
bubbles  at  once  rise  from  wdiat  is  now  the  negative  pole,  but  the 
oxygen  due  at  the  palladium  plate  is  for  a  time  taken  up  by  the 
hydrogen  occluded  there  ;  this  hydrogen  is  gradually  consumed, 
and  as  it  diminishes  the  plate  unbends  more  and  more  completely 
and  at  last  gets  bent  over  in  the  opposite  sense.  Palladium  by 
being  hydrogenized  does  not  lose  any  of  its  metallic  properties,  but 
(in  the  case  of  complete  saturation)  its  density  sinks  from  12  38  to 
1179,  its  tenacity  to  82  per  cent,  of  its  original  value,  its  elcctrio 
conductivity  in  the  ratio  of  8'1  to  5  9. 

Graham  views  hydrogenized  palladium  as  n  true  alloy,  containing 
its  hydrogen  in  the  form  of  a  metal  "hydrogenium.  '  He  found 
that  certain  palladium  alloys  take  up  hydrogen  as  readily  (though 
less  abundantly)  as  the  pure  metal  does  with  corresponding  expan- 
sion, but  when  dehydrogenized  shrink  back  into  exactly  their  ori- 
ginal volume.  He  calculated  that  the  density  of  hydrogenium  lies 
somewhere  about  the  value  0733  (water- 1),— which  of  course 
means  only  that  the  weight  of  the  occluded  hydrogen,  measured  by 
the  weight  of  a  volume  of  water  equal  to  the  expansion  observed, 
is  =0733.  Dewar  arrived  at  0-620  as  being  probably  nearer  the 
truth,  and  for  the  specific  heat  of  hydrogenium  found  values  from 
379  to  5-88. 

Osmitcm. — According  to  Deville  and  Debray,  powdery  osmium  is 
mast  readily  obtained  by  mixing  the  vapour  of  the  tetroxide  with 
that  gas  (CO-fCOj)  which  is  prepared  by  the  decomposition  of 
oxalic  acid  with  oil  of  vitriol,  and  passing  the  mixture  through  a 
red-hot  porcelain  tube.  The  powdery  metal  readily  fuses  up  with 
3  or  4  parts  of  tin  into  a  homogeneous  alloy.  When  this  alloy  is 
treated  with  hydrochloric  acid  most  of  the  tin  dissolves,  and  the 
rest  of  it  can  be  driven  off  by  heating  the  residue  in  HCl  gas.  There 
remains  ultimately  pure  osmium  in  the  (orm  of  bluo  crystals 
endowed  with  a  grey  to  violet  reflex,  which  are  hard  enough  to 
scratch  glass.  Their  specifk:  gravity  is  22 '48,  so  that  osmium, 
besides  being  the  most  infusible  of  metals,  is  the  heaviest  of  all 
known  bodies. 

Osmiridium. — Native  osmiridium  forms  crystalline  plate-shaped 
grains,  distinguished  by  an  extraordinary  degree  of  hardness,  which 
certainly  exceeds  that  of  hard-tempered  steel.  Most  of  the  grains 
are  very  minute  ;  the  larger  ones  are  utilized  for  makini'  ths 
so-called  "diamond  points"  of  gold  pens.  Osmiridium  would  lend 
itself  for  endless  other  applications  if  it  were  possible  to  unite  the 
native  dust  into  large  compact  ma-sses.  From  a  series  of  articles  ill 
the  C/icmical  News  (Jan.  2,  9,  ond  16,  1885),  by  Nelson  W.  Pcrry^ 
it  would  appear  that  this  problem  has  been  solved,  in  a  sense, 
John  Holland,  an  American  [len-maker,  starting  from  the  long- 
known  fact  that  platinum  metals  readily  unite  with  phosphorus 
into  relatively  easily  fusible  alloys,  succeeded  in  producing  a  phos- 
phorized  osmiridium  which  can  be  cast  (and  pressed  while  liquid) 
into  thin  continuous  slabs  even  harder  than  the  native  substance, 
and  susceptible  of  being  wrought  into  drills,  knife-edges,  &c. 

Slalistics. 

The  production  of  platinum-ore  !n  Eussia  was  2327  kilogramnie) 
in  1862,  492  in  1863,  397  in  1864,  2273  in  1865,  1768  in  1867,  and 
2050  in  1871,— a  total  in  those  six  years  of  9307.  The  averngj 
production  of  platinum  metal,  from  1828  to  1845,  amounted  to 
2623-8  kilogrammes  per  annum.  In  1870  it  was  only  2005-8  kilos, 
of  which  about  80  per  cent,  came  from  the  Ural  Mountains." 

The  manufacture  of  platinum  utensils  is  in  the  hands  of  a  very 
few  firms,  of  which  that  of  Messrs  Johnson,  Matthey,  &  Co.  of 
London  is  generally  understood  to  bo  the  most  important.  Ever\ 
the  total  amount  of  metal  which  passes  through  these  works  in 
the  aggregate  is  dirticult  of  ascertainment,  the  more  so  as  some  of 
them  at  least  are  discounting  largo  reserves  of  old  metal,  including 
more  or  less  of  the  obsolete  coins.  According  to  an  approximate 
estimate  which  a  very  competent  authority  hius  kindly  furnished, 
the  consumption  during  the  last  five  years  fell  little  short  of 
100,000  lb  troy,'  of  which  from  75  to  80  per  cent,  are  believed 
to  have  passed  through  the  hands  of  Ixindon  manufacturers. 

The  price  of  the  metal  during  the  last  ten  or  twelve  years  has 
ranged  from  four  to  tight  times  that  of  silver.  ■  It  is  very  high- 
at  present  (1855)  in  consequence  of  the  constantly  increasing 
demand  for  platinum  utensils.  (W.  D. )    , 

2  Frum  Kaiiinr5cli  anJ  Uccrcn'i  Tfrfiniuhri  Wdrterbueh. 
'  Ki)ua)  to  7-tC4  kilugramoics  pur  anjiuai,  whlcti  Is  3-7  timet  lh«  amount  i{i\-uk 
above  for  I6i0. 

X^A,  —  as 


194 


PLATO 


PLATO,  the  Athenian  philosopher  and  father  of  ideal- 
ism, ■was  born  427  B.C.,  and  lived  to  the  age  of  eighty. 
His  literary  activity  may  be  roughly  said  to  have  extended 
over  the  first  half  of  the  4th  century  B.C.  His  father's 
name  wa^  Ariston,  and  his  mother's  family,  which  claimed 
descent  from  Solon,  included  Critias,  one  of  the  thirty 
tyrants,  and  other  Athenian  notables.  That  throughout 
his  early  manhood  he  was  the  devoted  friend  of  Socrates, 
that  in  middle  life  he  taught  those  who  resorted  to  him  in 
the  grove  named  of  Academus,  near  the  Cephisus,  and  there 
founded  the  first  great  philosophical  school,  that  (with 
alleged  interruptions)  he  continued  to  preside  over  the 
Academy  until  his  death,  are  matters  of  established  fact. 
It  is  said  by  Aristotle  that  he  was  at  one  time  intimate 
■with  Cratylus  the  Heraclitean.  Beyond  this  we  have 
no  authentic  record  of  his  outward  life.  That  his  name 
was  at  first  Aristocles,  and  was  changed  to  Plato  because 
of  the  breadth  of  his  shoulders  or  of  his  style  or  of  his 
forehead,  that  he  wrestled  well,i  that  he  -n-rote  poetry^ 
which  he  burnt  on  hearing  Socrates,  that  he  fought  in 
three  great  battles,^  that  he  had  a  thin  voice,  that  (as  is 
told  of  other  Greek  philosophers)  he  travelled  to  Cyrene 
and  conversed  ■with  priests  in  Egypt,  are  statements  of 
Diogenes  Laertius,  which  rest  on  more  or  less  uncertain 
tradition.  The  express  assertion — which  this  author  attri- 
butes to  Hermodorus — that  after  the  death  of  Socrates 
Plato  and  other  Socratics  took  refuge  with  Euclides  in 
Megara,  has  a  somewhat  stronger  claim  to  authenticity. 
But  the  fact  cannot  be  regarded  as  certain,  still  less  the 
elaborate  inferences  which  have  been  drawn  from  it.  The 
tomantic  legend  of  Plato's  journeys  to  Sicily,  and  of  his  re- 
lations there  with  the  younger  Dionysius  and  the  princely 
out  unfortunate  Dion,  had  attained  some  degree  of  con- 
sistency before  the  age  of  Cicero,  and  at  an  unknown 
out  probably  early  time  were  worked  up  into  the  so-called 
Epui/es  of  Plato,  now  all  but  universally  discredited. 
Nor  is  there  sufficient  ground  for  supposing,  as  some  have 
done,  that  an  authentic  tradition  is  perceptible  behind 
the  myth.  For  the  details  of  the  story  the  reader  is 
referred  to  Grote.^*  who  believed  in  the  genuineness  of  the 
Epistles. 

It  is  more  important  than  any  further  balancing  of 
uncertainties  to  observe  the  intellectual  tendencies  of  the 
preceding  generation  (c.  430-400  B.C.). 
Lntece-  The  later  years  of  the  Peloponnesian  War  witnessed 
lent  ten-  much  mental  disturbance  and  restlessness  at  Athens. 
lenciei  Thoughtful  minds  looked  forward  with  apprehension  and 
backwards  with  regret,  while  even  the  most  thoughtless 
were  stirred  into  superficial  activity.  More  than  at  any 
time  since  the  age  of  Clisthenes,  the  city  was  divided, 
3,nd  a  man's"  foes  were  often  men  of  his  own  tribe  or  deme. 
Athenian  politics  were  .'more  factious  and  less  significant 
than  ever.  Contention  in  the  law-courts  and  rivalries  in 
the  assembly  had  for  many  men  a  more  absorbing  interest 
than  questions  of  peace  and  war.  Hereditaiy  traditions 
had  relaxed,  their  hold,  and  political  principles  were  not 
yet  formulated.  Yet  there  was  not  less  scope  on  this 
account  for  personal  ambition,  while  the  progress  of 
democracy,  the  necessity  of  conciliating  the  people,  and 
the  apportionment  of  public  offices  by  lot  had  a  distract- 
ing and,  to  reflecting  persons,  often  a  discouraging  effect. 

'  See  Laws,  viL  814  c. 

*.Som6  epigrams  in  the  Anthology  are  attributed  to  him. 

•  This  is  told  on  the  anthority  of  Aristoxenus.     But  Plato  cannot 
have  heen  at  Delium. 

*  History  of  Greece,  c.  Uiiiv. ;  Plato,  vol.  i.  c.  iiu 


For  those  amongst  whom  Plato  was  brought  up  this  eflect 
■was  aggravated  by  the  sequel  of  the  oligarchical  revolution, 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  for  some  years  after  the  restorb- 
tion  of  the  democracy,  a  new  stimulus  had  been  imparted, 
which,  though  of  short  duration,  was  universally  felt. 

The  events  and  circumstances  thus  briefly  summarized 
appear  in  two  way^  to  have  encouraged  the  diffusion  of 
ideas.  The  ambitious  seem  to  have  welcomed  them  as  a 
means  of  influence,  while  those  who  turned  from  public 
life  were  the  more  stimulated  to  speculative  disputation. 
However  this  may  have  been,  it  i^  manifest  that  before  the 
beginning  of  the  4th  century  B.C.  the  intellectual  atmo- 
sphere was  already  charged  with  a  new  force,  which 
although  essentially  one  may  be  differently  described, 
according  to  the  mode  of  its  development,  as  (1)  rhetorical 
and  (2)  theoretical  and  "sophistical."  This  last  word 
indicates  the  channel  through  which  the  current  influences 
were  mostly  derived.  A  new  want,  in  the  shape  both  of 
interested  and  of  disinterested  curiosity,  had  insensibly 
created  a  new  profession.  !Men  of  various  fatherlands, 
some  native  Athenians,  but  more  from  other  parts  of 
Hellas,  had  set  themselves  to  supplement  the  deficiencies 
of  ordinary  education,  and  to  train  men  for  the  require- 
ments of  civic  life,  llore  or  less  consciously  they  based 
their  teachings  on  the  philosophical  dogmas  of  an  earlier 
time,  when  the  speculations  of  Xenophanes,  Heraclitus, 
or  Parmenides  had  interested  only  a  few  "wise  men." 
Those  great  thoughts  were  now  to  be  expounded,  so  that 
"  even  cobblers  might  understand."  ^  The  self-appointed 
teachers  found  a  rich  field  and  abundant  harvest  among 
the  wealthier  youth,  to  the  chagrin  of  the  old-fashioned 
Athenian,  who  sighed  with  Aristophanes  for  tlie  good  old 
days  when  men  knew  less  and  listened  to  their  elders  and 
obeyed  the  customs  of  their  fathers.  And  such  distrust 
was  not  wholly  unfounded.  For,  amidst  much  that  was 
graceful  and  improving,  these  novel  questionings  had  an 
influence  that,  besides  being  unsettling,  was  aimless  and 
unreal  A  later  criticism  may  discern  in  them  the  two 
great  tendencies  of  naturalism  and  humanism.  But  it 
may  be  doubted  if  the  sophist  was  himself  aware  of  the 
direction  of  his  own  thoughts.  For,  although  Prodicus  or 
Hippias  could  debate  a  thesis  and  moralize  with  eSect, 
they  do  not  appear  to  have  been  capable  of  speculative 
reasoning.  What  passed  for  such  was  often  either  verbal 
quibbling  or  the  pushing  to  an  extreme  of  some  isolated 
abstract  notion.  That  pnidens  quseslio  which  is  dimidium 
scientix  had  not  yet  been  put.  And  yet  the  hour  for 
putting  it  concerning  human  life  was  fully  come.  For  the 
sea  on  which  men  were  drifting  i.^as  profoundly  troubled, 
and  would  not  sink  back  into  it>i  former  calm.  Conserva 
five  reaction  was  not  less  hopeless  than  the  dreams  of 
theorists  were  mischievously  v.-ild.  In  random  talk,  with 
gay,  irresponsible  energy,  the  youth  were  debating  problems 
which  have  exercised  great  minds  in  Europe  through  all 
after  time. 

Men's  thoughts  had  begun  to  be  thus  disturbed  and 
eager  when  Socrates  arose.  To  understand  him  is  the 
most  necessary  preliminary  to  the  study  of  Plato.  In  our 
first  authentic  knowledge  of  him  he  is  a  man  in  mature 
life,  attracting  the  attention  of  his  fellow-citizens  no  less 
by  his  courage  as  a  soldier  than  by  his  strange-familiar 
presence  in  the  Athenian  agora.  Like  the  cicada  of  the 
trees  by  the  Ilissus,  his  voice  was  never  silent — except  when 
checked  by  his  divine  monitor,  or  when  wrapt,  as  he  some 

0  Thext.,  180  D. 


PLATO 


195 


times  was  for  hours,  in  a  catalepsy  of  reverie  (see  Socrates). 
Wlisn  he  appeared  in  the  market-place  about  midday, 
ready  to  single  out  his  man  for  questioning,  he  had  already 
spent  some  hours  in  the  wrestling-schools,  conversing  with 
the  youth.  This  was  not,  as  it  appeared  to  his  contempo- 
raries, mere  idleness  or  mental  dissipation  (aSoXia-xfa),  but 
the  exercise  of  his  self-chosen  profession.  There  is  no 
reason  to  doubt  the  general  truth  of  the  assertion  which 
Plato  attributes  to  him  in  the  Apoloyia.  He  felt  a  divine 
vocation  .to  examine  himself  by  questioning  other  men. 
Gifted  with  an  iron  frame,  and  having  trained  himself  to 
have  fewer  wants  than  a  soldier,  or  a  slave,  he  could  devote 
all  his  time  to  this  one  object,  without  engaging  in 
remunerative  business,  or  setting  hours  apart  for  recrea- 
tion, since  he  was  indefatigable  alike  in  body  and  mind. 
He  was  really  doing  for  the  Athenians,  whether  they 
would  or  no,  what  the  sophist  professed  to  do  for  his 
adherents,  and  what  such  men  as  Protagoras  and  Prodicus 
liad  actually  done  in  part.  One  obvious  difference  was 
that  he  would  take  no  fee.  But  there  was  another  and 
more  deep-lying  difference,  which  distinguished  him  not 
only  from  the  contemporary  sophists  but  from  the  thinkers 
of  the  previous  age.  This  was  the  Socratic  attitude  of 
inquiry. 

The  sceptical  movement  had  confused  men's  notions  as 
to  the  value  of  ethical  ideas.^  "If  'right 'is  one  thing 
in  Athena  and  another  at  Sparta,  why  strive  to  follow 
right  rathep  than  expediency?  The  laws  put  restraint  on 
Nature,  which  is  prior  to  them.  Then  why  submit  to  law?" 
And  the  ingenuities  of  rhetoric  had  stirred  much  unmean- 
ing disputation.  Every  case  seemed  capable  of  being 
argued  in  opposite  ways.  Even  on  the  great  question  of 
the  ultimate  constitution  of  things,  the  conflicting  theories 
of  absolute  immutability  and  eternal  change  appeared  to 
be  equally  irrefragable  and  equally  untenable. 

Now  Socrates  first  of  all  maintained  imperturbably  the 
simple  habits  of  an  ordinary  Athenian  citizen,  observing 
scrupulously  even  minute  religious  customs,  entering  also 
unreservedly  into  the  lightest  pastimes  of  his  associates, 
while  the  plain  and  strenuous  tenor  of  his  own  peculiar  life 
remained  unaffected.  But  into  all  ho  carried  the  same  irre- 
pressible, insatiable  spirit  of  search,  to  which  nothing  human 
was  alien  or  uninteresting.  Taking  men  and  women  as  he 
found  them,  and  conversing  casually,  as  it  appeared,  on  the 
topic  which  chanced  to  interest  his  hearer,  he  had  not  gone 
far  before  ho  had  unmasked  some  vain  pretence,  cut  folly 
to  the  quick,  or  raised  some  doubt  of  wide  significance. 
And,  though  he  often  ended  with  negation,  his  negative 
achievements  had  a  positive  aim.  For  there  underlay  the 
[irocess  even  when  most  ironical  the  conviction,  not  less 
lirofound  because  implicit,  that  in  spite  of  false  appearances, 
in  spite  of  error,  there  are  realities  not  undiscoverable,  and 
whatsoever  is  real  is  good.  His  hearers  had  been  confused 
by  contradictory  voices, — one  crying  "All  is  motion," 
another  "  All  is  rest";  one  "  The  absolute  is  unattainable," 
another  "  The  relative  alone  is  real ";  some  upholding  a 
vague  sentiment  of  traditional  right,  while  some  declared 
for  arbitrary  convention  and  some  for  the  "  law  of  nature." 
Some  held  that  virtue  was  spontaneous,  some  that  it  was 
due  to  training,  and  some  paradoxically  denied  that  either 
vice  or  falsehood  had  any  meaning.  The  faith  of  Socrates, 
whether  instinctive  or  inspired,  remained  untroubled  by 
these  jarring  tones.  He  did  not  ask — "  Is  virtue  a 
reality?"  or  "Is  goodness  a  delusion?"  But,  with 
perfect  confidence  that  there  was  an  answer,  he  asked 
himself  and  others  "What  is  it?"  {ri  co-tO  ;  or,  more 
particularly,  aa  Xenophon  testifies,  "  What  is  a  state  ? 
What  is  a  statesman?     What  is  just?    What  is  unjust? 


^  See  Caird,  Hegel,  p.  16». 


What  is  government?  What  is  it  to  be  a  ruler  of  men? " 
In  this  form  of  question,  however  simple,  the  originality 
of  Socrates  is  typified;  and  by  means  of  it  he  laid  the  first 
stone,  not  only  of  the  fabric  of  ethical  philosophy,  but  ot 
scientific  method.  The  secret  of  his  success  lay  in  the 
combination  of  a  deep  sense  of  human  ignorance  with  u 
confidence  not  less  deep  in  the  power  of  reason. 

The  first  result,  and,  as  the  Platonic  Socrates  declares, 
the  only  result  he  had  obtained,  was  the  consciousness 
of  knowing  nothing.  But  he  who  knows  that  he  knows 
nothing  is  disposed  to  seek,  and  only  those  who  seek  will 
find.  And  the  seeking  mind  attains,  if  not  to  knowledge, 
yet  to  a  new  standard  of  knowing.  So  long  as  results  are 
contradictory,  so  long  as  negative  instances  are  success- 
fully applied,  the  searcher  may  make  progress  but  is  still 
to  seek.     For  the  aim  of  inquiry  is  the  universal. 

Human  life  and  experience  the  sphere  of  search;  truth 
and  good,  regarded  as  identical,  the  end  of  it ;  universality 
the  test  of  reality,  conversation  the  method,  rational 
thought  the  means, — these  are  the  chief  notes  of  the 
dialectic  of  Socrates.  Applying  the  native  strength  of  his 
intelligence  directly  to  the  facts  of  life,  he  revealed  their 
significance  in  countless  ways,  by  unthought-of  generaliza- 
tions, by  strange  analogies,  combining  what  men  had  not 
combined,  distinguishing  what  they  had  not  distinguished, 
—but  always  with  the  single  aim  of  rousing  them  to  the 
search  after  eternal  truth  and  good. 

The  spirit  which  led  on  towards  this  unseen  goal  was 
not  less  practical  than  speculative.  Socrates  desired  not 
only  that  men  might  know,  but  that  they  might  know  and 
do.  Utility  is  the  watchword  no  less  of  the  Socratic  than 
of  the  Baconian  induction.  But  Socrates  never  doubted 
that  if  men  once  know  they  will  also  do.  His  own  conscious 
conviction  of  the  unity  of  truth  and  good  he  believed  to 
be  unconsciously  the  basis  of  all  men's  actions.  They 
erred,  he  thought,  from  not  seeing  the  good,  and  not 
because  they  would  not  follow  it  if  seen.  This  is 
expressed  in  the  Socratic  dicta,  "Vice  is  ignorance," 
"  Virtue  is  knowledge."  Men  therefore  must  be  brought 
to  see  the  good  and  true,  and  that  they  may  see  it  they 
must  first  be  made  aware  that  they  do  not  see. 

This  lifelong  work  of  Socrates,  in  which  the  germs  ot 
ethics,  psychology,  and  logic  were  contained, — after  it  had 
been  sealed  by  the  death  in  which  he  characteristically  at 
once  obeyed  his  countrymen  and  convinced  them  of  error, — 
was  idealized,  developed,  dramatized— first  embodied  and 
then  extended  beyond  its  original  scope — in  the  writings 
of  Plato,  which  may  be  described  as  the  literary  outcome 
of  the  profound  impression  made  by  Socrates  upon  his 
greatest  follower. 

These  writings  (in  pursuance  of  the  impoi-tance  given 
by  Socrates  to  conversation)  are  all  cast  in  the  form  of 
imaginary  dialogue.  But  in  those  which  are  presumably 
the  latest  in  order  of  composition  this  imaginative  form 
interferes  but  little  with  the  direct  expression  of  the 
philosopher's  own  thoughts.  The  many-coloured  veil  at 
first  inseparable  from  the  features  is  gradually  worn 
thinntA-,  and  at  last  becomes  almost  imperceptible. 

Little  more  will  be  attempted  in  the  following  p.igeii 
than  to  give  a  general  outline  of  these  immortal  works  in 
the  order  which  is  on  the  whole  most  probable,  omitting 
those  whose  claim  to  authenticity  is  weakest,  and  passing 
lightly  over  some  which,  although  genuine,  are  less  import- 
ant than  the  rest,  or  have  less  to  do  with  the  main  current 
of  Plato's  thought. 

The  Platonic  dialogues  are  not  merely  the  embodiment 
of  the  mind  of  Socrates  and  of  the  reflexions  of  Plato., 
They  are  the  portraiture  of  the  highest  intellectual  life  of 
Hellas  in  the  time  of  Pkto, — a  life  but  distantly  related  to 


196 


PLATO 


military  and  political  events,  and  scarcely  interrupted  by 
them,  \thens  appears  as  the  centre  of  the  excitable 
Hellenic  mind,  profoundly  stirred  by  the  arrival  of  great 
sophists,'  and  keenly  alive  to  the  questions  of  Socrates, 
although  in  the  pages  of  Plato,  even  more  than  in  reality, 
he  only  "  whispers  with  a  few  striplings  in  a  corner.  " 
For,  in  the  Platonic  grouping,  the  agora,  which  was  the 
chief  scene  of  action  for  the  real  Socrates,  retires  into  the 
background,  and  he  is  principally  seen  consorting  with  his 
chosen  companions,  who  are  also  friends  of  Plato,  and  with 
the  acquaintances  whom  he  makes  through  them.  The 
scene  is  narrowed  (for  the  Academy  was  remote  from  the 
biistle  of  resort,  and  Plato  judged  the  Hellenic  world 
securely  from  the  vantage-ground  of  partial  retirement) — 
but  the  figures .  ate  distinct  and  full  of  life.  In  reading 
the  dialogues,  we  not  only  breathe  the  most  refined 
intellectual  atmosphere,  but  are  also  present  witnesses  of 
the  urbanity,  the  freedom,  the  playfulness,  the  generous 
warmth  of  the  "  best  society  "  in  Athens.  For  Plato  has 
a  numerous  repertory  of  dramatis  personal,  who  stand'  in 
various  relations  to  his  chief  character — the  impetuous 
Chaerephon,  Apollodorus.the  inseparable  weak  brother,  old 
Crito  the  true-hearted,  Phiedo  the  beloved  disciple, 
Simmias  and  Cebes,  who  have  been  with  Philolaus,  the 
graceful  and  ingenuous  Phaedrus,  the  petulant. Philebus, 
Theaetetus  of  the  philosophic  nature,  who  is  cut  off  in  his 
prime,  and  the  incorrigible  Alcibiades ;  then  Plato's  own 
kinsmen — Glaucon  the  irrepressible  in  politics,  in  quarrel, 
and  in  love,  Adimantus,  solid  and  grave,  Critias  in  his 
phase  of  amateur  philosopher,  and  not  as  what  he  after- 
wards became,  Charmides,  not  in  fiery  manhood,  but  in 
his  first  bloom  of  diffident  youth  ;  and  many  others  who 
appear  as  mere  acquaintances,  but  have  an  interest  of  their 
own — the  accomplished  Agathon,  "the  gay  Aristophanes, 
Eryximachus  the  all-worthy  physician,  Meno,  light  of 
Bpirit,  Callias,  entertainer  of  sophists,  Callicles  the  wilful 
man  of  the  world,  Cephalus  the  aged  father  of  Lysias,  and 
Nicias  the  honoured  soldier.  AH  these  appear,  not  as 
some  of  them  do  on  the  page  of  history,  in  sanguinary 
contention  or  nerce  rivalry,  but  as  peaceful  Athenians,  in 
momentary  contact  with  Socrates,  whose  electric  touch 
now  benumbs  and  now  exhilarates,  and  sometimes  goads 
to'  frenzy  of  love  or  anger.  Still  more  distantly  related 
to  him,  as  it  were  standing  in  an  outer  circle,  are  the' 
imposing  forms  of  Gorgias  and  Protagoras,  surrounded 
with  the  lesser  lights  of  Hippias,  Prodicus,  and  Polus. 
Thrasymachus,  Euthydemus,  Dionysodorus  hang  round 
like  comic  masks,  adding  piquancy  to  the  design.  The 
adversaries  Anytus  and  Meletus  are  allowed  to  appear  for 
a  moment,  but  soon  vanish.  The  older  philosophers, 
though  Socrates  turned  away  from  them,  also  make  their 
entrance  on  the  Platonic  stage.  Parmenides  with  his 
magnificent  depth  is  made  to  converse  with  the  imaginary 
Socrates,  who  is  still  quite  young.  A  stranger  from  Elea 
plays  an  important  part  in  some  later  dialogues,  and 
Timaeus  the  Pythagorean  is  introduced  discoursing  of  the 
creation  of  the  world.  In  these  dialogues  Socrates  is 
mostly  silent;  in  the  Philehus  he  has  lost  himself  in  Plato; 
and  in  the  twelve  books  of  the  Laws,  where  an  unnamed 
Athenian  is  the  chief  speaker,  even  the  Platonic  Socrates 
finally  disappears. 

Now,  in  evolving  his  philosophy  from  the  Socratic 
basis,  Plato  works  along  three  main  lines, — the  elhical 
and  political,  the  metaphysical  or  scientific,  and  the 
mystical.  All  three  are  often  intimately  blended,  as  in 
the  close  of  Eep.,  bk.  vi.,  and  "feven  where  one  element  is 
uppermost  the  others  are  not  wholly  suppressed.  But  this 
distinction,  like  that    sometimes  made  in  modern  philo- 


■  It  had  'been  part  of  the  policy  of  Pericles  to  draw  distinguished 
foreigners  to  Athens. 


sophy  between  the  good,  the  true,  and  the  beautiful,  la 
one  which,  if  not  unduly  pressed,  may  be  usefully  borne  >o 
mind.  Having  noted  this  once  for  all,  we  pass  to  tbo 
more  detailed  consideration  of  the  several  dialogues. 

L  Laches,  Channides,  Lysis. — In  this  first  group 
Socrates  is  dealing  tentatively  'with  single  ethical  notions. 
The  result  in  each  case  is  a  confession  of  ignorance,  but 
the  subject  has  been  so  handled  as  to  point  the  way  to 
more  fruitful  discussions  in  the  future.  And  suggestions 
are  casually  thrown  out  which  anticipate  some  of  the  most 
far-reaching  of  Plato's  subsequent  contemplations. 

The  Laches  is  a  vigorous  sketch,  in  which  the  characters 
of  the  soldier,  the  aged  citizen,  and  the  prudent  general 
are  well  preserved ;  and  Socrates  is  seen  conversing  with 
his  elders,  although  with  reference  to  the  treatment  of  the 
young.  The  question  raised  is  the  definition  of  courage  ; 
and  the  humour  of  the  piece  consists  in  showing  that  three 
men,  aU  of  whom  are  unquestionably  brave,  are  unable  to 
give  an  account  of  bravery,  or  to  decide  whether  courage 
is  an  animal  instinct  or  a  mental  accomplishment. 

Similarly,  in  the  dialogue  which  bears  his  name,  ths 
temperate  Charmides,  of  whom  .all  testify  that  (as  Aristo- 
phanes has  it  -)  he  "  fills  up  the  gracious  mould  of 
modesty,"  is  hopelessly  embarrassed  when  challenged  by  the 
Socratic  method  to  put  in  words  his  conception  of  the 
modesty  or  temperance  which  he  possesses,  and  which,  as 
Socrates  assures  him,  is  a  priceless  gift.  The  Ckarmi'.ks 
contains  some  hints  of  Platonic  notions,  such  as  that  of 
knowledge  as  self -consciousness,  and  of  virtue  as  "doing 
one's  own  business." 

The  graceful  little  dialogue  which  bears  the  name  of 
Lysis  ends,  like  the  two  former,  with  a  confession  of 
failure.  Socrates,  Lysis,  and  Menexenus  are  all  friends, 
and  think  highly  of  friendship,  yet  after  many  efforts  they 
are  unable  to  tell  "  what  friendship  is."  Yet  some  of 
the  suggestions  which  are  here  laid  aside  are  afterwards 
allowed  to  reappear.  The  notion  that  "what  is  neither 
good  nor  evil  loves  the  good  because  of  the  presence  of 
evil "  is  expanded  and  emphasized  in  the  Symposium.  And 
the  conception  of  an  ideal  object  of  friendship,  an  ai<T» 
<ft!\ov  (though  rejected  as  in  the  criticism  of  Aristotle  by 
the  characteristic  redndio  ad  infinitum),  is  destined  to  have 
a  wider"scope  in  the  history  of  Platonism. 

II.  Protagoras,  Jo,'  Meno. — The  previous  dialogues 
have  marked  the  distinction  between  unconscious  and 
conscious  morality,  and  have  also  brought  out  the  Socratic 
tendency  to  identify  virtue  with  the  knowledge  of  good. 
Now,  the  more  strongly  it  is  felt  that  knowledge  i» 
inseparable  from  virtue  the  more  strange  and  doubtful 
appears  such  unconscious  excellence  as  that  of  Laches, 
Charmides,  or  Lysis.  Hence  arises  the  further  paradox  of 
Socrates, — "Virtue  is  not  taught,  and  that  which  is  com- 
monly regarded  as  virtue  springs  up  spontaneously  or  is 
received  unconsciously  by  a  kind  of  inspiration." 

Protagoras,  in  the  dialogue  named  after  him,  is  the  l""** 
professor  of  popular,  unscientific,  self-complacent  excel-**** 
lence  ;  while  Socrates  appears  in  his  life-long  search  after  • 
the  ideal  knowledge  of  the  best.  The  two  men  are 
naturally  at  cross  purposes.  Protagoras  contends  that 
virtue  is  taught  by  himself  and  others  more  or  less  success- 
fully, and  is  not  one  but  many.  Socrates  disputes  the 
possibility  of  teaching  virtue  (since  all  men  equally  pro- 
fess it,  and  even  statesmen  fail  to  give  it  to  their  sons), 
but  affirms  that,  if  it  can  be  taught,  virtue  is  not  many, 
but  one.  The  discussion,  as  in  the  former  dialogues,  ends 
inconclusively.  But  in  the  course  of  it  Plato  vividly 
sets  forth  the  natural  opposition  between  the  empiric  and 
scientific  points  of  view,  between  a  conventional  and  an 

'  Nui.,  995,  inis  oi'SoSj  ^e'XAtis  ^iyaK^t  i.va.Tr\^tM. 


PLATO 


197 


intellectual  standard.  He  does  full  justice  to  the  tbcsis'of 
Protagoras,  and  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  be  was  con^ 
tented  to  remain  in  the  attitude  which  be  has  here  attri- 
buted to  Socrates.  In  bis  ideal  state,  where  the  earlier 
training  of  the  best  citizens  is  a  refinement  on  the  actual 
Hellenic  education,  he  has  to  some  extent  reconciled 
the  conceptions  which  are  here  dramaticall}ir opposed. 

The  jjreparations  for  the  encounter  and  the  description 
of  it  include  many  life-like  touches, — such  as  the  eagerness 
of  the  young  Athenian  gentleman  to  hear  the  sophist, 
though  be  would  bo  ashamed  to  be  thought  a  sophist 
himself ;  the  confusion  into  which  the  house  of  Callias 
has  been  thrown  by  the  crowd  of  strangers  and  by  the 
self-importance  of  rival  professors  ;  the  graceful  dignity 
of  the  man  who  has  been  forty  years  a  teacher,  the  graphic 
description  of  the  whole  scene,  the  characteristic  speeches 
of  Prodicus  and  Hippias  (from  which  some  critics  have 
elicited  a  theory  of  their  doctrines),  and  the  continued 
irony  with  which  Socrates  bears  them  all  in  hand  and 
soothes  the  great  man  after  disconcerting  him. 

In  the  argument  there  are  two  points  which  chiefly 
deserve  notice.  (1)  Protagoras,  in  accordance  with  bis 
relative  view  of  things  (which  Plato  afterwards  criticized 
in  the  Thextetus),  claims  not  to  give  men  principles 
but  to  improve  them  in  those  virtues  which  Providence 
has  given  in  some  measure  to  all  civilized  men.  (2) 
Socrates  in  postulating  a  scientific  principle,  which  be 
expressly  reserves  for  future  consideration,  would  have 
it  tested  by  the  power  of  calculating  the  amount  of 
pleasure.  Grote  dwells  with  some  complacency  on  the 
"  utilitarianism  "  of  Socrates  in  the  Protagoras.  And  it 
is  true  that  a  principle  of  utility  is  here  opposed  to  con^ 
ventional  sentiment.  But  this  opposition  is  intended  to 
prepare  the  way  for  the  wider  and  deeper  contrast  between 
an  arbitrary  and  a  scientific  standard,  or  between  impres- 
sions and  conceptions  or  ideas.  And  when  Plato  (in 
the  Gorgias  and  Philchus)  endeavours  to  define  the  art 
of  measurement,  which  is  here  anticipated,  it  is  not 
wonderful  that  differences  here  unthought  of  should  come 
into  view,  or  that  the  pleasant  should  be  again  contra- 
distinguished from  the  good.  In  all  three  dialogues  he 
is  equally  asserting  the  supremacy  of  reason. 

On  the  first  vision  of  that  transcendental  knowledge* 
which  is  to  be  the  key  at  once  to  truth  and  good,  philosophy 
is  apt  to  lose  her  balance,  and  to  look  with  scorn  upon 
"  the  trivial  round,  the  common  task,"  and  the  respectable 
common-places  of  "  ordinary  thinking."  Yet,  as  Socrates 
is  reminded  by  Protagoras,  this  unconscious  wisdom  also 
has  a  value.  And  Plato,  who,  when  most  ideal,  ever 
strives  to  keep  touch  with  experience,  is  fully  convinced  of 
the  reality  of  this  lower  truth,  of  this  unpbilosophic  virtue. 
But  he  is  long  puzzled  how  to  conceive  of  it.  For,  if 
knowledge  is  all  in  all,  what  are  we  to  make  of  wisdom 
and  goodness  in  those  who  do  not  know  ?  Protagoras  had 
boldly  spoken  of  honour  and  right  as  a  direct  gift  from 
Zeus,  and  Socrates,  in  the  lo  and  Meno,  is  represented  as 
adopting  an  hypothesis  of  inspiration  in  order  to  account 
for  these  unaccredited  graces  of  the  soul. 

Socrates  has  observed  that  rbapsodists  and  even  poets 
have  no  definite  knowledge  of  the  things  which  they  so 
powerfully  represent  (comp.  AjmL,  22;  Phad.,  245  A; 
Rep.,  iii.  398  A).  He  brings  the  rhapsode  lo  to  admit  this, 
and  to  conclude  that  he  ia  the  inspired  medium  of  a  mag- 
netic influence.  The  Muse  is  the  chief  magnet,  and  the  poet 
is  the  first  of  a  series  of  magnetic  rings.  Then  follow  the 
rhapsode  and  the  actor,  who  are  rings  of  inferior  power, 
and  the  last  ring  is  the  hearer  or  spectator. 

The  Meno  raises  again  the  more  serious  question,  Can 

'  Phssd.,  82  B ;  ife;).,~x.  619  C 


virtue  be  taught?  Socrates  here  states  explicitly  the 
paradox  with  which  the  Protagoras  ended.  "  Virtue  ia 
knowledge;  therefore  virtue  can  be  taught.  But  virtue  is 
not  taught.  Therefore  (in  the  highest  sense)  there  can  be 
no  virtue."  And  he  repeats  several  of  his  former  reasons, 
— that  Athenian  statesmen  failed  to  teach  their  sons,  and 
that  the  education  given  by  sophists  is  unsatisfying.  (The 
sophists  are  here  denounced  by  Anytus,  who  is  angered 
by  Socrates's  ironical  praise  of  them.)  But  the  paradox  is 
softened  in  two  ways: — (1)  the  absence  of  knowledge 
does  not  preclude  inquiry,  and  (2),  though  virtue  cannot 
be  taught,  yet  there  is  a  sense  in  which  virtue  exists. 

1.  Meno  begins  in  gaiety  of  heart  to  define  virtue,  but 
is  soon  ■'  benumbed  "  by  the  "  torpedo  "  shock  of  Socrates, 
and  asks  "  How  can  one  inquire  about  that  which  he  docs 
not  know?"  Socrates  meets  this  "eristic"  difiiculty  with 
the  doctrine  of  reminiscence  (ai'd/xKijo-ts).  All  knowledge 
is  latent  in  the  mind  from  birth  and  through  kindred  (or 
association)  of  ideas  much  may  be  recovered,  if  only  a 
beginning  is  made.  Pindar  and  other  poets  have  said 
that  the  soul  is  immortal  and  that  she  has  passed  through 
many  previous  states.^  And  Socrates  now  gives  a 
practical  illustration  of  the  truth  that  knowledge  is  evolved 
from  ignorance.  He  elicits,  from  a  Greek  slave  of  Meno's, 
the  demonstration  of  a  geometrical  theorem.^  About 
the  middle  of  the  process  he  turns  to  Meno  and  observes 
that  the  slave  (who  has  made  a  false  start)  is  now  becom- 
ing conscious  of  ignorance.  He  then  gradually  draws 
from  the  man,  by  leading  questions,  the  positive  proof. 

2.  Though  virtue  is  not  yet  defined,  it  may  be  affirmed 
"  hypothetically  "  that,  if  virtue  is  knowledge,  virtue  can 
be  taught.  And  experience  leads  us  to  admit  two  phases 
of  virtue — the  one  a  mode  of  life  based  on  scientific 
principle,  which  hitherto  is  an  ideal  only ;  the  other 
sporadic,  springing  of  itself,  yet  of  divine  origin,  relying 
upon  true  opinion,  which  it  is,  however,  unable  to  make 
fast  through  demonstration  of  the  cause  or  reason.  But, 
if  there  were  a  virtuous  man  who  could  teach  virtue,  ho 
would  stand  amongst  his  fellows  like  Tiresias  amongst  the 
shades.* 

This  mystical  account  of  ordinary  morality  is  in  keeping 
with  the  semi-mythical  defence  of  the  process  of  inquiry^ 
that  all  knowledge  is  implicit  in  the  mind  from  birth. 

III.  Euthyphro,  Apologia,  Crito,  Phrcdo. — There  is  no 
ground  for  supposing  that  these  four  dialogues  were 
written  consecutively,  or  that  they  belong  strictly  to  the 
same  period  of  Plato's  industry.  But  they  are  linked 
together  for  the  reader  by  their  common  reference  to  the 
trial  and  death  of  Socrates;  no  one  of  them  has  been 
proved  to  be  in  the  author's  earliest  or  latest  manner ; 
and  they  may  therefore  fitly  end  the  series  of  dialogues  in 
which  the  personal  traits  of  the  historic  Socrates  are  most 
apparent,  and  Plato's  own  peculiar  doctrines  are  as  yet 
but  partially  disclosed. 

The  little  dialogue  known  by  the  name  of  Euthi/phro 
might  have  been  classed  with  the  Laches,  Chamiides,  and 
Lysis,  as  dealing  inconclusively  with  a  single  notion.  But, 
although  slight  and  tentative  in  form,  it  has  an  und«.'r- 
tone  of  deeper  significance,  in  keeping  with  the  gravity 
of  the  occasion.  Plato  implies  that  Socrates  had  thought 
more  deeply  on  the  nature  of  piety  than  Lis  accusers  had, 
and  also  that  his  piety  was  of  a  higher  mood  than  that  of 
ordinary  religious  men. 

Euthyphro  is  a  soothsayer,  well-disposed  to  Socrates, 
but  not  one  of  his  particular  friends.     They  meet  at  the 

'  The  origin  of  this  traditional  tcliof  is  vory  obscure.  The  Orcekn 
themselves  were  apt  to  associate  it  with  Pythagoras  ond  with  tho 
"Orphic  "  mysteries. 

'  End.,  \.  47  (the  case  where  tho  triangle  is  i^o^cclcs). 

*  Horn.,  Odj/ss.,  X.  495,  Otif  WTyiaOai,  Tal  ii  cmiai  itiraouaiv. 


198 


PLATO 


door  of  the  king  archon,  whither  Socrates  has  been 
Bummoned  for  the  "  precognition  "  (avaKpuri^)  preliminary 
to  his  trial.  Both  men  are  interested  in  cases  of  alleged 
impiety.  For  Euthyphro's  business  is  to  impeach  his 
father,  '  who  has  inadvertently  caused  the  death  of  a 
criminal  labourer.  The  prophet  reels  the  duty  of  purging 
the  stain  of  blood  to  be  more  imperative  the  nearer 
home.  Socrates  is  struck  by.  the  strong  opinion  thus 
evinced  .  respecting  the  nature  of  _.  piety,  and  ■  detains 
Euthyphro  at  the  entrance  of  the  court,  that  he  may 
learn  from  so  clear  an  authority  "what  piety  is,"  and  so 
be  fortified  against  Meletus.  He  leads  his  respondent 
from  point  to  point,  until  the  doubt  is  raised  whether 
God  loves  holiness  because  it  is  holy,  or  it  is  holy  because 
loved  by  God.  i  Does  God  will  what'  is  righteous,  or  is 
tha,t  righteous  which  is  willed  by  God  ?.  Here  they  find 
themselves  wandering  round  and  round.  .  Socrates  proves 
himself  an  involuntary  Daedalus  who  makes  opinions 
fnove,  while  he  seeks  for  one  which  he  can  "  bind  fast 
teith  reason." 

'  The  holy  is  a  portion  of  the  just.  -  But  wnat  portion  ? 
J' Due  service  of  the  gods  by  prayer  and  sacrifice.'  But 
'  ow  does  this  affect  the  gods  1  "  It  pleases  them."  Again 
e  ate  found  to  be  reasoning  in  a  circle. 
Thus  far  has  Socrates  proceeded  in  placing  reiigion  on  a  moral 
foundation.  He  is  seeking  to  realize  the  harmony  of  religion  and 
morality,  which  the  great  poets  jEschylus,  Sophocles,  and  Piiular 
bad  unconsciously  anticipated,  and  which  is  the  universal  want  of 
all  men.  To  this  the  soothsayer  adds  the  ceremonial  element, 
attending  upon  the  gods.'  .When  further  interrogated  by  Socrates 
as  to_the_  natiu-e  of  this  'attention  to  the  gods,"  he  replies 
that  piety  is  an  affair  of  business,  a  science  of  giving  and  asking 
and  the  like.  Socrates  points  out  the  anthropomorphisnl  of  these 
notions.  Birt  when  we  expect  hira  to  go  on  ^nd  show  that  the  true 
serviceof  the  gods  is  the  service  of  the  spirit  and  co-opeiatiou  with 
them  in  all  things  true  and  good,  he  stops  short ;  this  was  a 
lesson  which  the  soothsayer  could  not  have  been  made  to  under- 
stand, and  which  everyone  must  learn  for  himself."^ 

In  Plato's  Apology  the  fate  of  Socrates  is  no  longer  the 
subject- of  mere  allusions,  such  as  the  rage  of  Anytus  at 
the  end  of  the  Meno,  and  the  scene  and  occasion  of  the 
Euthyphro.^  He  is  now  seen  face  to  face  with  his  accusers, 
Boid  with  his  countrymen  who  are  condemning  him  to  death. 
TVTiat  most  aggravated  his  danger  (after  life-long 
impunity)  is  thus  stated  by  Mr  James  Riddell,  in  the  intro- 
duction to  his  edition  of  the  dialogue  :— "  The  Ivi^lkuo.  " 
(clemency)  "  of  the  restored  people  did  not  last  long,  and 
was  naturally  succeeded  by  a  sensitive  and  fanatical  zeal  for 
their  revived  political  institutions.  Inquiry  into  the  founda- 
tions of  civil  society  was  obviously  rAther  perilous  for  the 
inquirer  at  such  a  time.  Socrates  knew  the  full  extent  of 
his  danger.  But,  according  to  Xenophon  (Mem.,  iv.  c.  8, 
§  14),  he  prepared  no  defence,  alleging  that  his.  whole  life 
had  been  a  preparation  for  that  hour." 

The  tone  of  the  Platonic  Apology  is  in  full  accordance 
with  that  saying ;  but  it  is  too  elaborate  a  work  of  art  to 
be  taken  literally  as  a  report  of  what  was  actually  said. 
Professor  Jowett  well  compares  it  to  "  those  .speeches  of 
Thucydides  in  which  he  has  embodied  his  conception  of  the 
lofty  character  and  policy  of  the  great  Pericles."  Yet  "  it 
is  significant  that  Plato  is  said  to  hav$  been  present  at  the 
defence,  as  he  is  also  said  to  have  been  absent  at  the  last 
scene  of  the  Pheedo.  Some  of  the  topics  may  have  been 
actually  used  by  Socrates,  and  the  recollection  of  his  very 
words  may  have  rung  in  the  ears  of  his  disciple." 

The  Platonic  Apology  is  in  three  parts  ;— (1)  before  conviction, 
(2)  after  conviction  and  before  sentence,  (3)  after  the  sentence. 

I.  Socrates  cares  ijot  for  acquittal.  But  he  does  caro  to 
explain  his  life.  And  he  selects  those  aspects  of  it  which  there 
is  hopo  of  making  his  audience  understand.  That  he  partly 
succeeded  in  this  is  shown  by  the  large  number  of  those  (220  out 
of  600)  who  voted  for  his  acquittal. 


'  Jowett. 


a.  His  answer  to  Meletus,  as  least  important,  is  reserved  fori 
the  middle  of  his  speech.  He  addresses  himself  llrst  to  '•othcil 
accusers,  —comic  poets  and  the  rest,  who  have  prejudiced  his'- 
ropuiation  by  falsely  identifying  him  with  the  physical  philosophers' 
and  the  sophists.  But  what  tlien  is  the  strange  ]misuit  which  has 
given  to  Socrates  the  name  of  wise?  It  is  the  practice  of  cross- 
examining,  to  which  ho  was  first  impelled  by  the  oracle  at  Dcljihi,' 
and  which  he  has  followed  ever  since  .is  a  religious  mission.  The  go  j 
said  "Socrates  is  wise,"  when  he  was  conscious  of  no  wisdom  great 
or  small.  So  he  went  in  search  of  some  one  wiser  than  himself, 
bnt  could  find  none,  though  he  found  manv  who  had  conceit  of 
wisdom.  And  he  infcncd  that  the  god  mus"t  mean  "  He  is  wi.scst 
who,  like  Socrates,  is  most  aware  of  his  own  ignorance."  TliiS 
unceasing  quest  has  left  him  in  great  poverty,  and  h.ns  made  him 
enemies,  who  are  )-epresented  by  Anytus,  Jleletus,  and  Lycou.' 
And  their  enmity  is  further  embittered  by  tlie  pleasure  which' 
young  men  take  in  seeing  pretence  unmasked,  and  in  imitatiiig 
the  process.of  refutation.  Hence  has  arisen  the  false  charge  that 
Socrates  is  a  corrupter  of  youth. 

b.  Here  he  turns  to  Meletus.  "  If  I  cornipt  the  youth,  who  does 
them  good?"  JIIcl.  "The  laws,  the  judges  tbe  audience,  the 
Athenians  generally"  (comp.  Protagoras  and  Slaio).  "Strange, 
that  here  only  should  be  one  to  corrupt  and  many  to  improve;  or 
that  any  one  should  be  so  infatuated  as  to  w'ish  to  have  bad 
neiglibours."  ^  2lcl.  "Socrates  is  an  atheist.  He  believes  tlie  sun 
to  be  a  stone."     "  You  are  accusing  Anaxagoras.     I  liave  said  tljat 

I  know  nothing  of  such  theories.     And  you  accuse  inc  of  introduc-  -_ 

ing   novel  notions  about  divine  things..   How  can    I   believe   in  ■ 

divine  things  iSaifi.6via)  and  not  in  divine  beings  (SaifioKs)  ?  and  ■ 

now  in  divine  beings,  if  not  in  gods  who  are  their  authors  ?  " 

c.  That  is  a  sufficient  answer  for  his  present  accuser.  Ho 
returns  to  the  general  long-standing  defamation,  which  may  \ycll  he 
his  death,  as  slander  has  often  befn  and  again  will  be  the  death  of 
many  a  man. 

Yet  if  spared  he  will  continue  the  same  course  of  life,  in  spite  of 
the  danger.  As  at  Potidtea  and  Deliura  he  faced  deatli  where  the 
Athenians  posted  him,  so  now  he  will  remain  at  the  post  where  ho 
is  stationecf  by  the  god.  .  For  to  fear  death  is  to  assume  pretended 
knowledge. 

One  thing  is  certain.  A  worse  man  cannot  harm  a  better.  But 
if  the  Athenians  kill  Socrates,  they  will  harm  themselves.  For 
they  will  lose  the  stimulus  of  his  exhortations  ;— and  his  poverty 
is  a  sufficient  witness  that  he  was  sincere.  Not.  that  he  would 
engage  in  politics.  If  he  had  done  that  lie  would  have  perished  long 
before,^  as  he  nearly  did  for  his  independent  vote  after  the  battlo 
of  Arginusfe,  and  for  disobeying  the  murderous  command  of  the 
thirty  tjTants. 

But  have  not  Socrates's  disciples,  Alcibiades,  Critias,  Charmides, 
proved  bad  citizens  ?  He  has  no  disciples.  Any  one,  bad  or  good," 
may  come  and  hear- him,  and  the  talk  which  is  his  life-work  is 
not  unamusing.  But  why  aiono  witnesses  brought  to  substantiate 
this  charge  ?  There  are  elder  friends  of  his  companions,  who 
would  be  angry  if  he  had  used  his  influence  for  harm.  But  these 
men's  confidence  in  Socrates  is  unshaken. 

He  will  not  appeal  ad  misericord iam.  That  would  be  a  disgr.ice 
for  one  who  (rightly  or  not)  has  been  reimtcd  wise,  and  to  admit 
such  an  appeal  in  any  case  is  a  violation  of  the  juror's  oath. 

Socrates  has  told  the  Athenians  the  whole  truth,  so  far  as 
a  mixed  audience  of  them  could  receive  it.  Elaboration  and 
subtlety  could  have  no  place  in  addressing  the  Heliastic  court, 
nor  could  that  universal  truth  towards  wdiich  he  was  leading 
men  be  made  intelligible  to  a  new  audience  while  the  clepsydra, 
was  running.  But  his  tone  and  attitude,  must  have  made  a 
strong  a]ipeal  to  the  better  nature  of  his  hearers.  With  Meletus 
he  played  rather  than  fought,"  but  he  has  shown  clearly  that  he 
has  no  fear  of  death,  that  he  chooses  to  obey  God  rather  than  man 
and  that  for  very  love  of  the  Athenians  he  will  not  be  swayed  liy 
their  desires.  j        j 

2.  One  convicted  on  a  capital  charge  had  the  right  of  plcaai'ie  M 
before   sentence   in   mitigation   of  the   penalty   proposed   by   l,is  • 
accuser.     Socrates  was  convicted  by  fewer  votes  than  he  himself 
anticipated.     The  indictment  of  Meletus  was  inefl"ectual,  and  if  it 

had  not  been  for  the  speeches  of  Anytus  and  Lycon  the  defendant 
would  have  been  triumphantly  acquitted. '  Could  he  but  have 
conversed  with  his  judges  more  than  once,  he  might  have  removed 
their  prejudices.  In  no  spirit  of  bravado,  therefore,  but  in  simple 
justice  t^o  himself,  he  meets  the  claim  of  Meletus  that  he  shall  ba 
punished  with  death  by  the  counter  claim  that  he  shall  be 
maintained  in  the  nrytaneura  as  a  public  benefactor.  He  cannot 
ask  that  death,  which  may  be  a  good,  shall  be  commuted,  for 
imprisonment  or  exile,  which  are.  certainly  evils.  A  fine  would  be 
no  evil :  but  he  has  no  money  ;— he  can  offer  a  mina. .  Here  Plato 
and  others  interpose,  and  with  their  friendly  help  heoffers  thirtv 
nnnse.  ^ 

3.  He  is  sentenced  to  death,  and  the  public  business  of  the  court 


'  Cr>mp.  (Jorg.,  .')21 ;  Rep.,  vi.  49a. 


^.. 


PLATO 


199 


is  cndcJ.  But,  while  tlie  record  is  being  entered  and  tlio  magia- 
tiatea  are  thus  occiii)ied,  Socrates  is  imagined  as  addressing  (a)  the 
niajoriiy,  and  (6)  the  minority  in  the  court. 

a.  To  those  who  have  condemned  him  he  speaks  in  a  prophetic 
tone.  "  For  the  sake  of  depriving  an  old  man  of  the  last  dregs  of 
life,  they  have  given  Athensabad  name.  He  would  not  run  away, 
ami  so  dcnth  has  overtaken  him.  But  his  accusers  are  overtaken 
l.y  unrighteousness,  and  must  reap  the  fruits  of  it. 

"  Nor  will  the  Athenians  find  the  di'sired  relief.  Other  reprovers, 
whom  Socrates  has  hithrrto  restrained,  will  now  arise,  not  in  a 
friendly  but  in  a  hostile  spirit.  The  only  way  for  the  citizens  to 
c-napc  reproof  is  to  reform  their  lives." 

b.  To  the  minority,  who  would  have  acquitted  him,  he  speaks 
w  ilh  gentle  solemnity.  "  Let  them  know  to  their  comfort  that  the 
divine  voice  has  not  once  checked  him  throughout  that  day.  This 
judicates  that  death  is  not  an  evil  And  reason  shows  that  death 
is  either  a  long  untroubled  sleep,  or  removal  to  a  better  world, 
where  are  no  unjust  judges, 

"  No  evil  can  happen  to  a  good  man  either  in  life  or  after  death. 
Wherefore  Sociatca  will  not  be  angry  with  his  condemners,  who 
have  done  him  no  harm,  although  they  meant  him  anything  but 
good.  Ho  will  only  ask  of  them  to  do  to  the  sons  of  Socrates  as 
Socrates  has  done  to  them." 

Is  the  love  of  trutli  consistent  with  civic  duties  ?  Is 
the  philosopher  a  good  citizen?  are  questions  which  are 
sure  to  arise  where  the  truth  involves  practical  improve- 
ment. In  the  Apology  Socrates  appears  as  an  intrepid 
reformer;  the  Crito  gives  an  impressive  picture  of  him  as 
a  loyal  and  law-abiding  Athenian. 

Execution  had  been  delayed  during  the  annual  mission  to  Dclos 
(during  which  no  one  could  be  put  to  death).  But  the  returning 
vessel  had  just  been  reported  as  descried  from  Sunium.  At  early' 
dawn  Crito,  the  oldest  friend  of  Socrates,  obtained  access  to  his  cell, 
and  found  him  sleeping  peacefully.  Presently  he  awoke,  and  Crito 
told  him  of  the  ai>proach  of  the  fatal  ship.  Socrates  replies  by 
telling  his  dream.     A  fair  form  stood  over  him  and  said, 

"The  thlid  day  henco  to  Phtlilft  ahalt  thou  come." 
And  It  would  seem  that  the  day  after  to-morrow  will  really  be  the 
day  for  going  home. 

Crito  then  reveals  his  plan  for  an  escape.  And  Socrates  argues 
the  question  in  the  old  familiar  way.  Crito's  zeal  is  excellent, 
and  most  men  would  think  his  object  right.  But  the  few  who 
think  soundly  say  that  it  is  wrong  to  return  evil  for  evih  The 
laws  of  Athens  (through  the  fault  of  men)  are  doing  Socrates  harm. 
But  ought  he  therefore  to  infringe  the  law  ?  Might  not  the  laws  of 
his  country  plead  with  him  and  say  : — '  You  owe  to  us  your  birth 
and  breeding  ;  and  when  grovvu  up  you  voluntarily  submitted  to 
lis.  For  you  might  havo  gone,  elsewhere.  But  you  preferred  us 
to  all  other  laws,  and  have  been  the  most  constant  resident  in 
Athens.  Even  at  the  last,  you  accepted  death  rather  than  exile. 
If  you  now  break  your  covenant,  you  will  ruin  your  friends  and 
will  be  rejected  by  all  well-ordered  cities.  Yon  might  be  received 
in  Tliessaly,  but  could  only  live  there  by  cringing  to  forcignci-s  for 
food.  Where  in  that  case  will  be  your  talk  about  virtue?  You 
would  not  take  your  sons  thither.  And  vour  friends  would  be 
equally  kind  to  them  if  you  were  dead. 

"  Think  not  of  life  and  children  lii-st  and  of  justice  afterwards, 
but  think  of  justice  first,  that  you  may  be  justified  in  the  world 
below."     Crito  admits  these  arguments  to  be  unanswerable. 

The  Meiior  referred  to  the  immortality  and  pre-:existence 
of  the  soul  as  a  traditional  doctrine,  and  it  was  there 
associated  with  the  possibility  of  inquiry.  In  the  Phscdo 
Plato  undertakes  to  substantiate  this  belief  and  base  it 
anew,  by  narrating  the  last  hours  of  Socrates,  who  is 
represented  as  calmly  discussing  the  question  with  his 
friends  when  his  own  death  was  immediately  at  hand. 
iThe  argument  turns  chiefly  on  the  eternity  of  knowledge, 
and  is  far  from  satisfying.  For,  granting  that  eternity 
of  knowledge  involves  eternity  of  mind,  does  the  eternity 
of  mind  assure  continued  being  to  the  individual  ?  *  Yet 
no  unijrcjudiced  reader  of  the  Phsdo  can  doubt  that  Plato, 
at  the  time  of  writing  it,  sincerely  believed  in  a  con-scious 
personal  o.xi.stence  after  death.  The  words  of  Socrates, 
when  he  declares  his  hope  of  going  to  be  with  other  friends, 
are  absolutely  unambiguous,  and  his  reply  to  Crito's 
question,  "How  shall  we  bury  you?"  has  a  convincing 

'  In  the  Timwus  immortality  is  made  to  rest  on  the  goodwill  of  God, 
hooauBO  "only  an  evil  being  wouM  wish  to  diBRolve  that  whieh  i»  har- 
monious and  happy"  (7V))i.,  41  A> 


lorce  beyond  all  dialectic  : — "  I  cannot  persuade  Crito  that 
I  here  am  Socrates — I  who  am  now  reasoning  and  order- 
ing discourse.  He  imagines  Socrates  to  be  that  other, 
whom  he  will  see  by  and  by,  a  corpse."  This  and  similar 
touches  not  only  stamp  the  P/isdo  as  a  marvel  of  art,  but 
are  indisputable  evidences  of  the  writer's  profound  belief. 
They  may  be  inventions,  but  they  have  nothing  "  mythi- 
cal "  about  them,  any  more  than  the  charge  of  Socrates 
to  his  friends,  that  they  would  best  fulfil  his  wishes  by 
attending  to  their  own  live.s. 

The  narrative,  to  be  appreciated,  must  be  read  in  full.  But  a 
short  abstract  of  the  argument  may  be  given  here. 

1.  Death  is  merely  the  separation  of  soul  and  body.  And  this 
is  the  very  consummation  at  which  philosophy  aims.'  The  body 
hinders  thought.  The  mind  attains  to  truth  by  retiring  into  her- 
self. Through  no  bodily  sense  does  she  perceive  justice,  beauty, 
goodness,  and  other  ideas.  The  philosopher  has  a  life-long  quarrel 
with  bodily  desires,  and  he  should  welcome  the  release  of  his  soul. 
Thus  he  alone  can  have  true  courage,  even  as  temperance  and  all 
the  virtues  are  real  in  him  alone. 

But  does  the  soul  exist  after  death  ? 

a.  An  old  traditicu  tells  of  many  successive  births,  the  soiU 
departing;  to  Hades  and  returning  again,  so  that  the  living  are 
born  froin  the  dead.  And  if  the  dead  had  no  existence,  this  could 
not  be,  since  from  nothing  nothing  can  arise.  Moreover,  experi- 
ence shows  that  opposite  states  come  from  their  opposites,  and  that 
such  a  process  is  always  reciprocal.  Death  certainly  succeeds  to 
life.  Then  life  must  succeed  to  death. .  And  that  which  undergoes 
these  changes  must  exist  through  all  If  the  dead  came  from  the 
living,  and  not  the  living  from  the  dead,  the  universe  would 
ultimately  be  consumed  in  death. 

This  presumption  is  confirmed  by  the  doctrine  (here  attributed 
to  Socrates,  eomp.  Mcno)  that  knowledge  comes  through  recollection. 
What  is  recollected  must  be  previously  known.  Now  we  have 
never  since  birth  had  intuition  of  the  absolute  equality  of  which 
(through  association)  we  are  reminded  by  the  sight  of  things 
approximately  equal.  And  we  cannot  have  seen  it  at  the  moment 
of  birth,  for  at  what  other  moment  can  we  havo  forgotten  itl 
Therefore,  if  ideals  be  not  vain,  our  souls  must  have  existed  before 
birth,  and,  according  to  the  doctrine  of  Spposites  above  stated  will 
have  continued  existence  after  death. 

*.  To  charm  away  the  fears  of  the  "child  within,"  Socrates  adds, 
as  further  considerations: — 

(1)  The  soul  is  uncompounded,  incorporeal,  invisible,  and  there- 
fore indissoluble  and  immutable. 

(2)  The  soul  commands,  the  boay  serves ;  tnterefore  tlie  soul  li 
akin  to  the  divine. 

(3)  Yet  even  the  body  holds  together  long  after  death,  and  thi 
bones  are  all  but  indestructible. 

The  soul,  if  pure,  departs  to  the  invisible  world,  but,  if  tainted 
by  communion  with  the  body,  she  lingers  hovering  near  the  eartli) 
and  is  aftei-wards  born  into  the  likeness  of  some  lower  form.  Thai 
which  true  philosophy  has  purified  alone  rises  ultimately  to  th* 
gods.     This  lesson  is  impressively  applied. 

2.  A  pause  ensues  ;  and  Simmias  and  Cebes  are  invited  to  express 
their  doulits.  For,  as  the  swan  dies  singing,  Socrates  would  dii 
discoursing. 

a.  Simmias  desires  not  to  rest  short  of  demonstration,  though 
he  is  willing  to  make  the  highest  fi^tainable  probability  the  guidt 
of  life. 

If  the  soul  is  the  harmony  of  the  body,  what  becomes  of  hcf 
"  when  the  lute  is  broken  "  ? 

b.  Cebes  compares  the  body  to  a  garment  which  the  soul  keeps 
weaving  at.  The  ganuent  in  which  the  weaver  dies  outhast^  him. 
So  the  soul  may  have  woven  and  worn  many  bodies  in  one  lifetime, 
yet  may  perish  and  leave  a  body  behind.,  Or  even  supposing  hct 
to  havo  many  lives,  does  even  this  hypothesis  exempt  her  from 
ultimate  decay! 

Socrates  warns  his  friends  against  losing  faith  in  inquiry. 
Theories,  like  men,  are  disappointing ;  yet  wo  should  bo  iKithcf 
misanthropists  nor  misologista.      Then  he  answers  his  two  friends. 

(a)  (1)  Tly;  soul  is  acknowledged  to  be  prior  to  the  body.  But 
no  harmony  is  prior  to  the  elements  which  are  harmonized. 

(2)  The  soul  has  virtue  and  vice,  «.c.,  harmony  and  discord.  la 
there  harinony  of  harmony  I     Comp.  Hep.,  x.  609. 

(3)  All  soul  is  equally  soul,  but  all  harmony  is  not  equally 
harmonious. 

(4)  If  the  eoUl  wore  the  harmony  of  the  body,  they  would  be 
agreed  ;  but,  as  has  been  already  shown,  they  arc  perpetually 
quarrelling. 

(5)  The  soul  is  not  conditionea  oy  the  bodily  elements,  but  htx 
the  power  of  controlling  them. 

(ft.)  Cebes  has  raised  the  wide  question  whether  Iho  soul  is  ind-^- 
pendent  of  gcueraliou  and  corruption,     Socrates  owni  that  ha  liim< 


BOO 


PLATO 


self  (i.e.,  Plato?)  had  once  been  fascinated  by  natnral  philosophy, 
and  had  sought  to  give  a  physical  account  of  everything.  Then, 
hearing  out  of  Anaxagoras  that  mind  was  the  disposer  of  all,  he  had 
hoped  to  learn  not  only  how  things  were,  but  also  why.  But  he 
found  Anaxagoras  forsaldng  his  own  first  principle  and  jumbling 
causes  with  conditions.  ("  The  cause  why  Socrates  sits  here  is  not 
a  certain  disposition  of  joints  and  sinews,  but  that  he  has  thought 
best  to  undergo  his  sentence, — else  the  joints  and  sinews  would 
have  been  ere  this,  by  Crito's  advice,  on  the  way  to  Thessaly.") 
Physical  science  never  thinks  of  a  power  which  orders  everything 
for  good,  but  expects  to  find  another  Atlas  to  sustain  the  world 
more  strong  and  lasting  than  the  reason  of  the  best. 

Socrates  had  turned  from  such  philosophers  and  found  for  him- 
self a  way,  not  to  gaze  directly  on  the  universal  reason,  but  to 
seek  an  image  of  it  in  the  world  of  mind,  wherein  are  reflected 
the  ideas,  as,  for  example,  the  idea  of  beauty,  through  partaking  of 
which  beautiful  things  are  beautiful.  Assuming  the  existence  of 
tlie  ideas,  he  felt  his  way  from  hypothesis  to  hypothesis^ 

Now  the  participation  of  objects  in  ideas  is  in  some  cases  essential 
and  inseparable.  Snow  is  essentially  cold,  fire  hot,  three  odd,  two 
even.  And  things  thus  essentially  opposite  are  exclusive  of  each 
other's  attributes.  (When  it  was  said  above  that  opposites  come 
from  opposites,  not  opposite  things  were  meant,  but  opposite  states 
or  conditions  of  one  thing.)  Snow  cannot  admit  heat,  nor  fire  cold; 
for  they  are  inseparable  vehicles  of  heat  and  cold  respectively. 
The  soul  is  the  inseparable  vehicle  of  life,  and  therefore,  ay  parity 
of  reasoning,  the  soul  cannot  admit  of  death,  but  is  immortal  and 
imperishable. 

3.  What  follows  is  in  the  true  sense  mythological,  atid  is  admitted 
by  Socrates  to  be  uncertain. — "Howbeit,  since  the  soul  is  proved 
to  be  immortal,  men  ou"ht  to  charm  their  spirits  with  such  tales. " — 

The  earth,  a  globe  self-balanced  in  the  midst  of  space,  has  many 
mansions  for  the  soul,'  some  higher  and  brighter,  some  lower  and 
darker  than  our  present  habitation.  We  who  dwell  about  the 
Mediterranean  Sea  are  like  frogs  at  the  bottom  of  a  pool.  In  some 
higher  place,  under  the  true  heaven,  our  souls  may  dwell  hereafter, 
and  see  not  only  colours  and  forms  in  their  ideal  purity  but  truth 
and  justice  as  they  are. 

la  the  Phxdo,  ^jnore  than  elsewhere,  Plato  preacbes 
withdrawal  from  the  world.  The  Delian  solemnity  is  to 
Socrates  and  his  friends  a  period  of  "retreat,"  in  which 
their  eyes  are  turned  from  earthly  things  to  dwell  on  the 
eternal.  The  theory  of  ideas  here  assumes  'its  most 
transcendental  aspect,  and  it  is  from  portions  of  this 
dialogue  and  of  the  Phsedrus  and  Timeeus  that  the  popular 
conception  of  Platonism  has  been  principally  derived. 
But  to  understand  Plato  rightly  it  is  not  enough  to  study 
isolated  passages  which  happen  to  charm  ihe  imagina^ 
tion ;  nor  should  single  expressions  be  interpreted  without 
regard  to  the  manner  in  which  he  presents  the  truth  else- 
where. 

It  has  already  been  shown  (1)  that  Socratic  inquiry 
implied  a  standard  of  truth  and  good,  undiscovered  but  end- 
lessly discoverable,  and  to  be  approached  inductively;  and 
(2)  that  in  Plato  this  implicit  assumption  becomes  explicit, 
in  the  identification  of  virtue  with  knowledge  [Lack., 
Ckarm.)  as  an  art  of  measurement  {Protag.),  and  in  the 
vision  (towards  the  end  of -the  Lysis). oi  an  absolute  object 
of  desire.  The  Socratic  "  self-knowledge  "  has  been  de- 
veloped {Charm.)  into  a  science  of  mind  or  consciousness, 
apart  from  which  no  physical-studies  can  be  fruitful  (3) 
Co-ordinate  with  these  theoretical  tendencies  there  has 
appeared  in  Plato  the  determination  not  to  break  with 
experience.' — The  bearing  of  these  remarks  on  the  further 
progress  of  Plato's  thoughts  will  appear  in  the  sequel. 
Meanwhile,  in  the  Plisedo,  a  long  step  is  made  in  the 
direction  of  pure  idealism.  The  ordinary  virtue,  which  in 
the  Protagoras  and  Meno  was  questioned  but  not  con- 
demned, is  here  rejected  as  unreal,  and  the  task  proposed 
to  the  philosopher  is  less  to  understand  the  world  than  to 
escape  from  it.  The  universal  has  assumed  the  form  of  the 
ideal,  which  is  supposed,  as  elsewhere  in  Plato,  to  include 

'  Comp.  Milton,  n  Penseroao,  88-92- 

•*  To  nnsphere 
The  spirit  of  Plato,  to  unfold 
What  worlds  or  what  vast  regions  hoW 
The  Immortal  mind  that  hath  foi-souk 
Utr  man&ion  lo  thii  fleshly  nook." 


mathematical  as  well  as  moral  notions.  The  only  function 
of  perception  is  to  awaken  in  us  some  reminiscence  of  this 
idfeal.  By  following  the  clue  thus  given,  and  by  searching 
for  clearer  images  of  truth  in  the  world  of  mind,  we  may 
hope  to  be  emancipated  from  sensation,  and  to  lay  hold 
upon  the  sole  object  of  pure  reason. 

It  is  obvious  that  when  he  wrote  the  Phxdo  PlatO 
conceived  of  universals  as  objective  entities  rather  than 
as  forms  of  thought.  The  notion  of  "  ideal  colours ' 
(though  occurring  in  the  myth)  is  an  indication  of  hia 
ontological  mood. 

Yet  even  here  the  ciSi;  are  not  consistently  hypostatized, 
■file  notion  of  "  what  is  best  "  has  a  distinctly  practical 
side,  and  the  "  knowledge  through  reminiscence  "  is  in  one 
aspect  a  process  of  reflexion  on  experience,  turning  ou 
the  laws  of  association.^  It  is  also  said  that  objects 
"  partake  "  of  the  ideas,  and  some  concrete  natures  are 
regarded  as  embodiments  or  vehicles  of  some  of  them. 
Still,  if  taken  as  a  whole,  notwith.'itanding  the  scientific 
attitude  of  Socrates,  the  Phxdo  is  rather  a  meditation  than 
an  inquiry, — a  -study  of  the  soul  as  self-existent,  aud  o£ 
the  mind  and  truth  as  co-eternal. 

rV.  Symposium,  Phsedrus,  Cratylus. — Socrates  is  again 
imagined  as  in  the  fulness  of  life.  But  the  real  Socrates 
is  becoming  more  and  more  inextricably  blended  with 
Platonic  thought  and  fancy.  In  the  Apology  there  is  a 
distinct  echo  of  the  voice  of  Socrates ;  the  Phsdo  gives 
many  personal  traits  of  him  ;  but  the  dialogues  which  are 
now  to  follow  are  replete  with  original  invention,  based  in 
part,  no  doubt,  on  personal  recollections. 

The  Symposium  admits  both  of  comparison  and  of  con-  Syinp« 
trast  with  the  Phsedo.  Both  dialogues  are  mystical,  both  s'n"^ 
are  spiritual,  but  the  spirituality  in  either  is  of  a  different 
order.  That  is  here  immanent  which  was  there  transcend- 
ent; the  beautiful  takes  the  place  of  the  good.  The  world 
is  not  now  to  be  annihilated,  but  rather  transfigured,  until 
particular  objects  are  lost  in  universal  light.  Instead  of 
flying  from  the  region  of  growth  and  decay,  the  mind, 
through  intercourse  with  beauty,  is  now  the  active  cause 
of  production.  Yet  the  life  of  contemplation  is  still  the 
highest  life,  and  philosophy  the  truest  fiovo-iKi}. 

The  leading  conception  of  the  Sifitiposima  has  been  anticipated 
in  the  Lysis,  where  it  was  said  that  "  the  indifferent  loves  the 
good,  because  of  the  presence  of  evil." 

The  banqueters  (including  Socrates),  who  are  met  to  celebrate 
the  tragic  victory  of  Agathon,  happen  not  to  be  disposed  for  hard 
drinking.  They  send  away  the  flute-girl  and  entertain  each  other 
with  the  praise  of  Love. 

Phsedrus  tells  how  Love  inspires  to  honourable  deeds,  and  horf 
Alcestis  and  Achilles  died  for  Love. 

Pausanias  rhetorically  distinguishes  the  earthly  from  the 
neavenly  Love. 

The  physician  Eryximachns,  admitting  the  distinction,  yet  holds 
that  Love  pervades  all  nature,  and  that  art  consists  in  followiu' 
the  higher  Love  in  each  particular  sphere.  So  Empedocles  had 
spoken  of  Love  as  overcoming  previous  discord.  For  opposites 
cannot,  as  Heraclitus  fancied,  coexist. 

Aristophanes,  in  a  comic  myth,  describes  the  origin  of  Love  as  an 
imperfect  creature's  longing  for  completion.  The  original  doable 
human  beings  were  growing  impious,  and  Zeus  split  them  in  twain, 
ever  since  which  act  the  bereaved  halves  wander  in  search  of  one 
another. 

Agathon  speaks,  or  rather  sings,  of  Love  and  his  works.  He  is 
the  youngest,  not  the  eldest  of  gods,  living  and  moving  delicately 
wherever  bloom  is  and  in  the  hearts  of  men, — the  author  of  all 
virtue  and  of  all  good  works,  obeyed  by  gods,  fair  and  cau.sing 
all  things  fair,  making  men  to  be  of  one  mind  at '.'feasts — piict, 
defender,  saviour,  in  whose  footstens  all  should  follow,  chanting 
strains  of  love. 

Socrates  will  not  attempt  to  rival  the  poet,  and  begins  by  stipu- 
lating that  he  may  tell  the  truth.  He  accepts  the  distinction 
between  Love  and  his  works,  but  points  out  that,  since  ilesiro 
implies  want,  and  the  desire  of  Love  is  toward  beauty,  Love,  as 
wanting  beauty,  is  not  beautiful.     So  much  being  established  in 


»  Comp.  rhea:t.,  184-186. 


E  L  A  T  0 


201 


th«   Socratic  manner,  he   proceeds    to  unfold   the   mystery   one 
revealed  to  him  by  Diotima,  the  llantinean  wise  woman. 

Love  is  neither  beautiful  nor  ugly,  neither  wise  nor  foolish, 
neither  god  nor  mortal.  Between  gods  and  mortals  is  the  world 
of  mediating  spirits  (rh  Sai/j.6yiov).  And  Love  is  a  great  spirit,  child 
of  Resource  (the  son  of  Prudence)  and  Poverty  the  beggar  maid,  who 
conceived  hira  at  the  birthday  feast  of  Aphrodite.  Ho  is  far  from 
living  "  delicately,"  but  is  ragged  and  shoeless,  always  in  difficul- 
ties, yet  always  brimming  with  invention,  a  mighty  hunter  after 
wisdom  and  all  things  fair  ;  sometimes  "all  full  with  feasting  "  on 
them,  the  next  moment  "  clean  starved  "  for  lack  ;  never  absolutely 
knowing  nor  quite  ignorant  That  is  to  say,  he  is  a  "  philosopher.  ' 
For  knowledge  is  the  most  beautiful  thing,  and  love  is  of  the 
beautiful. 

But  what  does  love  desire  of  the  beautiful  ?  The  possession  is 
enough.  But  there  is  one  kind  of  love — called  "  being  in  love  " — 
which  desires  beauty  for  a  peculiar  end.  The  lover  is  seeking,  not 
his  '■  other  half,"  but  possession  of  the  beautiful  and  birth  in  bcantij. 
For  there  is  a  season  of  puberty  both  in  body  and  mind,  when 
human  nature  longs  to  create,  and  it  cannot  save  in  presence  of 
beauty.  This  yearning  is  the  earnest  of  immortality.  Even  in 
the  bird's  devotion  to  its  mate  and  to  its  young  there  is  a  craving 
after  continued  being.  In  individual  lives  there  is  a  flux,  not 
only  of  the  body,  but  in  the  mind.  Nay,  the  sciences  themselves 
also  come  and  go  (here  the  contrast  to  the  Phxdo  is  at  its  height). 
But  in  mortal  things  the  shadow  of  continuity  is  succession. 

The  love  of  fame  is  a  somewhat  brighter  image  of  immortality 
than  the  lovo  of  offspring.  Creative  souls  would  bring  into  being 
not  children  of  their  body,  but  good  deeds.  And  such  a  one  is 
readiest  to  fall  in  love  with  a  fair  mind  in  a  fair  body,  and  then  is 
filled  with  enthusiasm  and  begets  noble  thoughts.  Homer,  Hesiod, 
Lycurgus,  Solon,  were  such  genial  minds.  But  they  stopped  at 
the  threshold  (comp.  Prol.,  Mcno),  and  saw  not  the  higher  mysteries, 
which  are  reserved  for  those  who  rise  from  noble  actions,  institu- 
tions, laws,  to  universal  beauty.  The  true  order  is  to  advance  f^om 
one  to  all  fair  forms,  then  to  fair  practices,  fair  thoughts,  and 
lastly  to.  the  single  thought  of  absolute  beauty.  In  that  com- 
munion only,  beholding  beauty  with  the  eye  of  the  mind,  one  shall 
bring  forth  realities  and  become  the  friend  of  God  and  be  immortal, 
if  mortal  man  may. 

Alcibiades  here  breaks  in  and  is  vociferously  welcomed.  He  is 
crowning  Agathon,  when,  on  perceiving  Socrates,  he  declares  that 
he  will  crown  him  too.  Then  he  announces  himself  king  of  the 
feast,  and  insists  upon  hard  drinking  (though  this  will  make  no 
difference  to  Socrates). 

Eryximachus  demands  from  the  newcomer  a  speech  in  praise  of 
love.  But  Alcibiades  will  praise  no  one  else  when  Socrates  is 
near.  And  with  the  freedom  of  one  who  is  deep  in  wine  he 
proceeds  with  his  strange  encomium  of  "  this  JIarsyas." 

"  In  face  and  outward  bearing  he  is  like  a  Satyr  or  Silenus,  and 
by  his  voice  he  charms  more  powerfully  than  they  do  by  their 
pipings.  The  eloquence  of  Pericles  has  no  effect  in  comparison 
with  hia.  His  words  alone  move  Alcibiades  to  shame,  and 
fascinate  him  until  he  stops  his  ears  and  runs  from  him." — "I 
often  wish  him  dead.  Yet  that  would  break  my  heart.  He  brings 
me  to  my  wit's  end." — "And,  as  carved  Sileni  are  made  to  encase 
images  of  gods,  so  this  Silenus-mask  entreasures  things  divine. 
He  affects  ignorance  and  suscc]jtibility  to  beauty.  Thus  he  mocks 
mankind.  .  But  he  cares  nothing  for  outward  shows,  and  his  tem- 
perance {<Tu><t>po(rvyn)  is  wonderful." 

To  prove  this  Alcibiades  reveals  his  own  heart-secret.  (He  is  not 
ashamed  to  speak  it  amongst  others  who  have  felt  the  pang  which 
Socrates  inflicts.)  And  ho  makes  it  abundantly  manifest  that  in 
their  widely-rumoured  intercourse  (comp.  Prolog,  init. )  Socrates  had 
never  cared  for  anything  but  what  was  best  for  his  younger  friend. 
Alcibiades  then  relates  as  an  eyewitness  the  endurance  shown  by 
Socrates  at  Potid.-ca,  his  strange  persistence  in  solitary  meditation, 
— standing  absorbed  in  thought  for  a  day  and  anight  together, —and 
his  intrepid  conduct  in  the  retreat  from  Delium  (comp.  Laches). 
"  The  talk  of  Socrates  is  of  pack-asses  and  cobblers,  and  ho  is  ever 
saying  the  same  things  in  the  same  words  ;  but  one  who  lifts  tho 
mask  and  looks  within  will  find  tliat  no  other  words  have  mean- 
ing. "  Alcibiades  ends  by  warning  his  companions  against  the  wiles 
of  Socrates. 

Some  raillery  follows,  and  they  are  invaded  by  another  band  of 
revellers,  who  compel  them  to  drink  still  more  deeply.  Tho 
soberly  inclined  (led  by  Eryxiinachus)  slink  off,  and  Aristodomus, 
the  reporter  of  tho  scene,  only  remembers  further  that  when  ho 
awoke  at  cock-crow  Socrates  was  still  conversing  with  Agathon  and 
Aristophanes,  and  showing  them  that  tragedy  and  comedy  wore 
essentially  one.  He  talked  them  both  asleep,  and  at  daybreak  went 
about  his  usual  business. 

The  philosopher  of  the  Symposium  is  in  tho  world  and 
yet  not  of  it,  apparently  yielding  but  really  overcoming. 
In  the  Phsedo  the  soul  was  exhorted  to  "  live  upon  her 
%ervaixt's  k)ss,"  as  in  Shakspeare's  most  religious  sonnet ; 


'  this  dialogue  tells  of  a  "  soul  within  sense  "  in  the  spirit  of 
some  more  recent  poetry.  By  force  of  imagination  rather 
than  of  reason,  the  reconciliation  of  becoming  (ycvca-K) 
with  being  (ova-la),  of  the  temporal  with  the  eternal,  is 
anticipated.  But  through  the  bright  haze  of  fancy  and 
behind  the  mask  of  irony,  Socrates  still  appears  the  same 
strong,  pure,  upright,  and  beneficent  human  being  as  in 
the  Apology,  Crito,  and  Phsedo. 

The  impassioned  contemplation  of  the  beautiful  is  again 
imagined  as  the  beginning  of  philosophy.  But  the 
"  limitless  ocean  of.  beauty "  is  replaced  by  a  world  of 
supramundane  forms,  beheld  by  unembodied  souls,  and 
remembered  here  on  earth  through  enthusiasm,  proceeding 
by  dialectic  from  multiform  impressions  to  one  rational  con- 
ception, and  distinguishing  tho  "  lines  and  veins  "  of  truth. 
The  Pkasdrus  records  Plato's  highest  "  hour  of  insight," 
when  he  willed  the  various  tasks  hereafter  to  be  fulfilled. 
In  it  he  soars  to  a  pitch  of  contemplation  from  whence  he 
takes  a  comprehensive  and  keen-eyed  survey  of  the  country 
to  be  explored,  marking  off  the  blind  alleys  and. paths  that 
lead  astray,  laying  down  the  main  lines  and  chief  branches, 
and  taking  note  of  the  erroneous  wanderings  of  others. 
Reversing  the  vulgar  adage,  he  flies  that  he  may  creep. 

The  transcendent  aspiration  of  the  Phsedo  and  the  mystic 
glow  of  the  Symposium  are  here  combined  with  the  notion 
of  a  scientific  process.  No  longer  asking,  as  in  the  Prota- 
goras, Is  virtue  one  or  many  ?  Plato  rises  to  the  conception 
of  a  scientific  one  and  many,  to  be  contemplated  through 
dialectic, — no  barren  abstraction,  but  a  method  of  classifi- 
cation according  to  nature. 

This  method  is  to  be  applied  especially  to  psychology, 
not  merely  with  a  speculative,  but  also  with  a  practical 
aim.  For  the  "  birth  in  beauty "  of  the  Symposium  is 
here  developed  into  an  art  of  education,  of  which  the 
true  rhetoric  is  but  the  means,  and  true  statesmanship  an 
accidental  outcome. 

Like  all  imaginative  critics,  Plato  falls  to  some  extent 
under  the  influence  of  that  which  he  criticizes.  The  art 
of  rhetoric  which  he  so  often  travestied  had  a  lasting  effect 
upon  his  stylo.  Readers  of  his  latest  works  are  often 
reminded  of  the  mock  grandiloquence .  of  the  Phecdrus. 
But  in  this  dialogue  the  poetical  side  of  his  genius  is  at 
the  height.  Not  only  can  he  express  or  imitate  anything, 
and  produce  any  effect  at  will,  but  he  is  standing  behind 
his  creation  and  disposing  it  with  tho  most  perfect  mastery,' 
preserving  unity  amidst  profuse  variety,  and  giving  han^ 
mony  to  a  wildness  bordering  on  the  grotesque. 

The  person  of  Socrates  is  here  deliberately  modified.  He 
no  longer  (as  in  the  Syiiiposium)  teaches  positive  wisdom 
under  tho  pretence  of  repeating  what  he  has  heard,  but  is 
himself  caught  by  an  exceptional  inspiration,  which  is 
accounted  for  by  the  unusual  circumstance  of  his  finding 
himself  in  the  country  and  alone,  with  Phxdrus.  lie  has 
been  hitherto  a  stranger;  to  the  woods  and  ficld.s,  which 
would  tempt  him  away  from  studying  himself  through 
intercouioo  with  men.  But  by  tho  promise  of  discourse 
— especially  of  talk  with  Fha;drus — ho  may  be  drawn 
anywhither. 

Phsedrus  han  been  charmed  by  a  discourse  of  Lysias,  which  atuet 
some  coy  excuses  he  consents  to  read. 

It  is  a  frigid  orotic  diatribe,  in  which  one  not  in  lovo  pleads  for 
preference  over  tho  lover.  Socrates  hints  at  criticism,  and  in  chal- 
lenged to  produce  something  better  on  tho  same  Ihcinc. 

1.  Distinguishing  desire  from  tnio  opinion,  he  defines  love  as 
desire  prevailing  against  truth,  and  then  iinatiatos  on  tho  htirinful 
tendencies  of  lovo  as  bo  defined.  Hut  ho  neconua  alnrined  at  his 
own  unwonted  eloquence,  and  isalvmt  to  remove,  when  the  "divine 
token"  warns  him  that  lie  must  first  recite  a  "pnlino'lo"  in  praiso 
of  love.     For  no  divine  power  can  bo  Ihe  causo  of  evil 

2.  LoVo  is  madncsJ ;  but  there  is  a  noble  madness,  as  is  shown 
by  soothsayers  (callcti  fiivrtit  from  fiatt'o^at).  And  of  tho  highoC 
madness  there  are  four  kinds. 

XIX.  -  26 


202 


PLATO 


To  explain  this  it  is  uccessary  to  understand  psychology.  Tlie 
Boul  is  self-existent  and  self-moving,  and  therefore  eternal.  And 
her  form  is  like  a  pair  of  wingetl  steeds  with  their  charioteer.  In 
divine  souls  both  steeds  are  good,  but  in  hitman  souls  one  of  them  is 
bad.  Now  before  entering  tlte  body  the  soul  lost  her  wings,  which  in 
her  unenibodied  state  were  nourished  by  beauty,  wisdom,  goodness, 
and  all  that  is  divine.  For  at  the  festival  of  souls,  in  which  they 
visit  the  heaven  that  is  above  the  heavens,  the  unruly  steed 
caused  the  charioteer  to  see  imperfectly.  So  the  .soul  cast  her 
feathers  and  fell  down  and  passed  into  the  human  form.  And, 
according  to  the  comparative  clearness  or  dimness  of  that  first 
vision,  her  earthly  lot  is  varied  from  that  of  a  philosopher  or 
artist  down  through  nine  gi'ades  (including  woman)  to  that  of  a 
tyrant.  On  her  conduct  in  this  state  of  jjrobatiou  depends  her 
condition  when  again  born  into,  the  world.  And  only  in  ten 
thousand  years  can  she  return  to  her  pristine  state,  except 
through  a  life  of  philosophy  (comp.  Phsodo)  or  of  pure  and  noble 
love  (cotnp.  Symposium). 

The  mind  of  the  philosopher  alone  has  wings.  He  is  ever  being 
initiated  into  perfect  mysteries,  and  his  soul  alone  becomes 
complete.  But  the  vulgar  deem  him  mad  and  rebuke  him  ;  they 
do  not  see. that  he  is  inspired. 

This  divine  madness  (the  fourth  kind  of  those  above  mentioned) 
i.B  kindled  through  the  renevred  vision  of'  beauty.  For  wisdom  is 
not  seen  ;  her  loveliness  would  have  been  transporting  if  she  had 
a  visible  form.  The  struggle  of  the  higher  passion  with  the  lower 
is  then  described  with  extraordinary  vividness,  uuder  the  image 
of  the  tv/o  steeds.  When  the  higher  impulse  trium])hs,  the  issue 
is  a  philosophic  friendship,  at  once  passionate  and  absolutely  pure. 

3.  From  \\s  ^  palinode "  Socrates  returns  to  Lysias,  who  is 
advised  to  leave  speech-writing  for  philosophy. 

a.  Phaedrus  remarks  that  the  speech-writer  is  despised  by  the 
politician.  Socrates  replies  that  speech-writing  and  politics  are 
one  concern.  The  real  difference  is  between  those  who  base  their 
teaching  On  philosophy  and  Ihose  who  are  content  with  fules  of 
art.  For  example,  if  the  first  speech  of  Socrates  is  compared  with 
that  of  Lysias,  the  one  is  found  to  distinguish  and  define,  tlie 
other  not ;  the  one  observes  order  in  discourse,  the  other  "  begins 
where  he  should  end^"  and  his  utterance  is  like  a  disordered  chain. 
A  speech  should  be  au  organic  whole,  a  "  creature  having  hands  and 
feet. "  So  in  the  "  palinode  "  there  was  a  classificatiqn  of  the  kinds 
of  madness,  which  led  the  way  to  "a  possibly  true  though  partly 
erring  myth." 

This  approximation  to  truth  in  the  midst  of  much  that  was 
playful  was  due  to  the-observance  of  two  principles,  generaliza.tion 
and  division  {trvyayuyii^  Siafpeo-is).  Whoever,  sees  the  one  and 
niany  in  nature,  him  Socrates  follows  and  walks  in  his  footsteps,  as 
if  he  v/ere  a  god. 

In  comparison  of  dialectic,  as  thus  conceived,  the  frigid  rules  of 
Lysias,  Thrasyraachus,  Theodoras,  Evenus,  Tisias,  Gorgias,  Polus, 
and  Protagoras  are  futile  and  absurd. 

b.  Another  condition  of  teaching  (or  true  rhetoric)  H  the  science 
of  mind.  Whether  the  sonl  be  one  or  many,  complex  or  multiform, 
and  if  multiform  what  are  its  parts  and  kinds,  are  questions  which 
the  teacher  must  have  already  solved.  And  he  must  likewise  have 
ckssified  all  arguments  and  know  them  in  their  various  applica- 
bility to  divers  souls.  An  art  of  speaking  that  should  fultil  this 
condition  is  non-existent.  Yet  how  can  even  verisimilitude 'be 
attained  without  knowledge  of  truth  ? 

c.  The  art  of  writing  is  kindred  to  the  art-  of  speech.  But 
Socrates  maintains  that  oral  teaching  through  the  living  contact 
of  mind  with  mind  has  many  .advantages  over  written  composition, 
which  is,  comparatively  speaking,  a  dead  thing,  lien  may  write  for 
amusement  or  to  record  the  intercoui-se  that  has  been.  But  the 
serions  occupation  of  the  true  thinker  and  teacher  is  the  com- 
munication of  truth  through  vital  converse  with  others  like- 
minded, — the  creation  of  "thoughts  that  breathe"  iu  spirits 
conscious  of  their  value. 

In  conclnsioii,  a  friendly  hint  is  given  to  Isocrates  that  he  may  do 
better  than  Lysias  if  he  will  but  turn  his  attention  to  philosophy. 

The  Plixdrus  anticipates  much  that  Plato  afterwards 
slowly  elaborated,  and  retains  some  things  which  he  at  last 
eliminated.  (1)  The  presence  of  movement  or  impulse  in 
the  highest  region  is  an  aspect  of  truth  which  reappears 
in  the  Sophistea  and  other  later  dialogues.  It  has  been 
thought  strange  that  it  should  be  found  so  early  as  in  the 
Pheedrus.  But  does  not  this  remark  imply  an  unwarrant- 
able assumption,  viz.,  that  Plato's  idealism  took  its  depar- 
ture from  the  being  of  Parmenides  1  Is  it  not  rather  the 
fact  Uiat  his  own  theory  was  formulated  before  the 
Megarian  ascendency  led  him  to  examine  the  Eleatic 
doctrine,  and  tiat  it  was  by  a  tendency  from  the  first 
inherent  in  Platonisin    that    that  doctrine  was  modified 


1  in  his  final  teaching?  (2)  The  outimes  of  method 
which  are  thrown  out  atwhite  heat  in  the  Phsedrus  are-a 
preparation  for  the  more  sober  treatment  of  the  ideas  in 
the  dialectical  dialogues.  In  these,  however,  the  con- 
ception of  classification  is  somewhat  altered  through  contact 
with-  Eleaticism.  (3)  The  Phsedrus  aims,  not  merely  at 
realizing  universals,  but  at  grasping  them  in  and  through 
particulars.  This  is  an  ideal  of  knowledge  which  was 
"  lost  as  soon  as  seen,"  but  one  which  in  some  of  his  latest 
dialogues,  such  as  the  Politicus  and  Philetnis,  Plato  again 
endeavours  to  work  out.  (4)  The  Phsdrvs  contains  the 
elements  of  that  true  psychology  into  which  the  ontologi-c 
cal  theory  of  the  ideas  is  gradually  transmuted  in  Plato's 
more  advanced  writing.?,  when  the  difficulties  of  his  ideal 
doctrine  in  its  cruder  forms  have  been  clearly  felt  and 
understood.  (5)  Plato  here  appears  as  a  professor  of 
education,  preferring  oral  intercourse  to  authorship.  In 
this  paradoz  he  at  once  exalts  the  work  of  Socrates  and 
avows  his  own  vocation  as  a  teacher.  The  passage  throws 
an  interesting  light  upon  the  form  of  dialogue  iu  which  hia 
works  are  cast.  But  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  ha 
remained  long  unconscious  of  the  influence  he  was  destined 
to  wield  by  writing.  In  undertaking  a  great  task  like  the 
Republic,  he  practically  receded  from  the  untenable  vieW 
asserted  here ;  and  in  theXaws  he  recommends  his  longest 
an"d  most  prosaic  work  as  a  suitable  basis  for  the  edacation 
of  the  future.  (6)  It  must  always  appear  strange,  even  to 
those  most  familiar  with  the  conditions  of  Hellenic  life,  that 
in  portraying  the  idealizing  power  of  passionate  love  Plato 
should  have  taken  his  departure  from  unnatural  feeling. 

On  this  subject  he  has  sung  his  own  "  palinode  "  in  the 
Laws,  which  he  intended  as  his  final  legacy  to  mankind.' 
Not  that  he  ceased  to  .exalt  genius  and  originality  above 
mere  talent,  or  to  demand  for  philosophy  the  service  of  the 
heart  as  well  as  the  head,  nor  yet  that  friendship  was  less 
valued  by  him  in  later  years.  All  this  remained  unchanged 
And  in  the  Republic  the  passion  of  love  is  still  distantly 
referred  to  as  the  symbol  of  ideal  aspiration.  But  a  tim6 
came  when  he  had  learned  to  frown  on  the  aberration  of 
feeling  which  in  the  Symposium  and  Plixdrus  he  appears 
to  regard  as  the  legitimate  stimulus  of  intellectual  enthu- 
siasm. And  already  in  the  Thextetus  not  love  but 
wonder  is  described  as  the  only  beginning  of  philosophy 

While  calling  attention  to  this  change  of  sentiment,  it  Is 
right  to  add  that  Platonic  love  in  the  "  erotic  "  dialoguea 
of  Plato  is  very  different  from  what  has  often  been  so 
named,  and  that  nothing  even  in'  the  noble'  passage  of  tha 
Laws  above  referred  to  casts  the  slightest  shadow  of  blame 
on  the  Socrates  of  the  Symposium. 

Such  changes  are,  amongst  other  things,  a  ground  toi 
caution  in  comparing  the  two  steeds  of  the  Phxdrus  with 
the  spirit  {6vft.6%)  and  desire  (liridvfjiia.)  of  the.  Republic  and 
Timssus.  The  Phezdrus.  in  common  with  these  dialogues, 
asserts  tha  existence  of  higher  and  lower  impulses  in 
human  nature,  but  there  is  no  sufficient  ground  for  suppos- 
ing that  when  Plato  wrote  the  Phsedrus  he  would  have 
defined  them  precbely  as  they  are  defined  in  the  Repidilic. 
The  Cratylus  is  full  of  curious  interest  as  marking  the 
highest  point  reached  by  the  "  science  of  lasguage "  in 
antiquity ;  but,  as  this  dialogue  "  hardly  derives  any  light 
from  Plato's  other  writings,"  ^  so  neither  does  it  reflect 
much  light  on  them.  It  deals  slightly  with  the  contrast 
between  Heracliteanism  and  Eleaticism,  the  importance  o( 
dialectic,  the  difficulty  about  the  existence  of  falsehood, 
and  ends  with  a  brief  allusion  to  the  doctriiie  of  ideas  — 
but  these  topics  are  all  more  fully  discussed  elsewhere. 

'  Lau-s,  viii.  S36. 

-  Professor  Jowett,  — who  has,  notwithstanding  thtTr*n  much  UjM 
on  the  Cratylus  in  his  brilliant  introduction. 


P  L  A  T  O 


203 


Three  pcreons  maintain  differeiil  views  respecting  the  nature  and 
wrigin  of  lanpiage. 

Hermogenea  afBrma  that  language  13  conventional,  Cratylus  (the 
Jleraclitean)  that  it  is  natural.  Socrates,  mediating  between  these 
Bonhistical  extremes,  declares  that  lanenage,  like  other  institutions, 
u  national,  and  therefore  <1)  is  based  on  nature,  but  (2)  modified 
by  convention. 

In  his  dialectical  treatment  of  the  subject,  Socrates  displays  a 
tissue  of  wild  etymologies  in  reliance  on  the  "  inspiration  '  of 
Euthyphro.  Presently  a  distinction  appears  between  primary  and 
tecondary  words.  Many  primary  words  convey  the  notion  of  move- 
ment ancl  change.  It  follows  that  the  legislator  or  word-maker  held 
Heraclitean  views.  Socrates  thus  far  presses  on  Hermogencs  the 
view  of  Cratylus.  Then  turnLog  to  Cratylus  he  asks  if  there  are  no 
Cilse  names.  "Faldo  language,  Cratylus  argues,  "is  impossible." 
Socrates  shows  that  a  true  image  may  bo  inadequate,  so  that  we 
have  a  right  to  criticize  the  work  of  the  word-maker.  And  the 
facts  indicate  an  element  of  meaningless  convention.  Nor  was  tho 
original  word-maker  consistently  Ileraclitea'n.  For  some  imnortant 
%rords  point  not  to  motion  but  to  rest. 

But  the  question  returns — Are  wo  sure  that  tho  theory  of 
tature  T\-hicli  the  word-maker  held  was  true  I  This  difficulty 
cannot  be  touched  by  verbal  arguments.  In  seeking  to  resolve  it 
wo  must  consider,  not  words,  but  things.  If  there  is  a  true  beauty 
and  a  true  good,  which  are  immutable,  and  if  these  sre  accessible 
to  knowledge,  that  world  of  truth  can  have  nothing  to  do  with 
flux  and  change. 

V.  Gorgias,  Bepublie. — In  the  Symposium  and  Phxdrui 
Plato  largely  redeems  the  promise  implied  in  the  Phxdo, 
where  Socrates  t«lls  Lis  friends  to  look  among  themselves 
for  a  charmer  \Yho  may  soothe  away  the  fear  of  death. 
But  he  was  pledged  also  to  a  sterner  duty  by  the  warning 
of  Socrates  to  tho  Athenians,  in  the  Apology,  that  after  he 
was  gone  there  would  arise  others  for  their  reproof,  more 
harsh  than  he  had  been.  To  this  graver  task,  which  he 
had  but  partially  fulfilled  with  the  light  satire  upon  Lysias 
or  the  gentle  message  to  Isocrates,  the  philosopher  now 
directs  his  powers,  by  holding  up  the  mirror  of  what 
ought  to  bp  against  what  is,  the  principles  o^  truth  and 
right  against  the  practice  of  men.  For  the  good  ias  more 
than  one  aspect.  Tho  beautiful  or  noble  when  realized 
in  action  becomes  the  just.  And  to  the  question,  What  is 
just  i  are  closely  alfied  those  other  questions  of  Socrates — 
What  is  a  state  ?    What  is  it  to  be  a  statesman  % 

In  the  Gorgias  Plato  asserts  the  absolute  supremacy  of 
Justice  through  the  dramatic  portraiture  of  Socrates  in  his 
opposition  to  the  world  ;  in  the  Republic  he  strives  at 
greater  length  to  define  tlie  nature  of  justice  through  the 
imaginary  creation  of  an  ideal  community. 

In  tliQ  former  dialogue  the  Platonic  Socrates  appears 
in  direct  antagonism  with  the  Athenian  world.  The 
shadow  of  his  fate  is  hanging  over  him.  Chaerephon 
(who  is  still  alive)  understands  him,  but  to  the  other  inter- 
locutors, Gorgias,  Polus,  Callicles,  he  appears  perversely 
paradoxical.  Yet  he  effectively  dominates  them  all.  And 
to  the  reader  of  tho  dialogue  this  image  of  "  Socrates 
contra  mundum  "  is  hardly  less  impressive  than  that  former 
image  of  Socrates  confronting  death. 

L  Gorgias  asserts  that  rhetoric  is  an  art  concerned  with  justice, 
and  that  persuasion  is  the  secret  of  power. 

a.  Socrates,  after  suggesting  some  ironical  doubts,  declares  his 
opinion  that  rhetoric  is  no  art,  but  a  knack  of  pleasing,  or  in 
other  words  "tho  counterfeit  of  a  subsection  of  statesmanship." 
(This  oracular  definition  rouses  the  interest  of  Gorgias,  and  Socrates 
proceeds  with  the  following  "  generalization  and  division  ": — 
Manngcmcnt  of 


Soul. 
I 


lical. 
I 

i_ 

i         i 

Legli-     Jurt»- 
UUon.  pi'udonce. 


Body. 

I 


Urol. 


rrot«ndod. 


Sophistic.  Rhetoric.    Gymnastic  Medicine.  Cosmetic.  Coiifcc 
I  I  I  tionory. 


Flattery. 


Flattery  influences  men  through  pleasure  without  knowledge. 
And  the  rhetor  is  a  kind  of  confectioner,  who  can  with  difficulty 
be  distinguished  from  tho  sophist. 

b.  Rhetoric,  then,  ia  not  an  art.  And  persuasion  is  not  the 
secret  of  power.  Here  Socrates  maintains  against  Polus  the  threo 
paradoxes : — 

The  tyrant  does  what  he  chooses  hut  not  what  he  wishes ; 

It  is  less  evil  to  suffer  wrong  than  to  do  wrong  ; 

It  is  better  for  the  wrongdoer  to  b«  punished  than  to  escape 
punishment.- 

The  only  use  of  rhetoric,  therefore,  is  for  sell-accusation,  and  (it 
it  is  ever  permissible  to  do  harm)  to  prevent  the  punishment  of 
one's  enemy. 

2.  Callicles  here  loses  patience  and  breaks  in.  He  proponndt 
his  theory,  which  is  based  on  the  opposition  of  nature  and  custom. 

"  There  is  no  natural  right  but  tlie  rijjht  of  the  stronger.  And 
natural  nobility  is  to  have  strong  passions  and  power  to  gratifs 
them.     The  lawful 

Is  a  word  that  cowards  use, 
PovlBCd  at  tirst  to  keep  the  stron;;  id  awe." 

Socrates  entangles  him  in  an  argument  in  -which  it  is  proved  that 
pleasure  is  different  from  good,  and  that  there  are  good  and  bad 
pleasures. 

Now  the  question  is  whether  the  life  of  philosophy,  or  tho  life 
which  Callicles  defends,  is  conducive  to  good.  And  it  has  been 
shown  that  rhetoric  ia  one  of  a  class  of  pursuits  wliich  minjster  to 
pleasure  without  discriminating  what  is  good. 

Callicles  again  becomes  impatient.  Did  not  Themistocles, 
Cimon,  Pericles  labour  for  their  country's  good !  Socrates  then 
renews  his  demonstration,  proving  that  it  tho  just  man  is  wronged 
the  evil  lies  with  the  wrongdoer,  not  with  him,  and  that  it  is 
worst  for  the  wrongdoer  if  he  escape.  And  for  avoidance  of  this 
greatest  evil  not  rhetoric  avails  anything,  nor  any  of  the  arts 
which  save  life  (seeing  that  life  may  be  used  well  or  ill),  nor  even 
such  an  art  of  politics  as'Tliemistocles,  Cimon,  or  Pericles  knew, 
but  another  science  of  politics  which  Socrates  alone  of  tho 
Athenians  practises.  The  pursuit  of  it  may  well  endanger  him  ; 
but  his  strength  lies  in  haviug  done  no  wrong.  For  in  the  world 
to  como  he  can  present  his  soul  faultless  before  her  .judge.  Not 
the  show  of  justice  but  the  reality  will  avail  him  there. 

This  truth  is  enforced  by  an  impressive  myth.  And  Callicles  is 
invited  to  leave  the  life  which  relies  on  rhetoric  and  to  follow 
Socrates  in  practising  the  life  of  philosophic  virtue. 

The  value  of  justice  has  been  shown.  But  what  is 
justice  1  Is  the  life  upheld  by  Socrates  sufficiently  defi- 
nite for  practical  guidance  ?  Tho  views  of  Callicles  have 
been  overborne  ;  but  have  they  been  thoroughly  examined  1 
Socrates  claims  to  be  the  only  politician.  But  how  can 
that  deserve  the  name  of  policy  which  results  in  doing 
nothing?  These  and  cognate  questions  may  well  have 
haunted  Plato  when  he  planned  the  greatest  of  his  \  orks.  Beputim 
For  that  which  lay  deepest  in  him  was  not  mere  specula- 
tive interest  or  poetic  fervour,  but  the  practical  enthusiasm 
of  a  reformer.  The  example  of  Socrates  had  fired  him 
with  an  ideal  of  wisdom,  courage,  temperance,  and 
righteousness,-  which  under  various  guises,  both  abstract 
and  concrete,  has  appeared  and  reappeared  in  the  preceding 
dialogues.  But  the  more  vividly  he  conceived  of  this 
ideal  life,  the  more  keenly  he  felt  its  isolation  in  the 
present  world — that  of  the  restored  Athenian  democracy. 
For  to  a  Greek  mind  above  all  others  life  was  nothing  with- 
out the  social  environment,  and  justice,  of  all  virtues,  could 
least  bo  realized  apart  from  a  community.  Henco  it  became 
necessary  to  imagine  a  form  of  society  in  which  the  ideal 
man  might  find  him.sclf  at  homo,  a  state  to  which  tho 
philosopher  might  stand  in  harmonious  relationship,  no 
longer  as  an  alien  sojourner,  but  as  a  native  citizen,  not 
standing  aloof  in  lonely  contemplation,  but  acting  with  tho 
full  consent  of  other  men  and  ruling  in  tho  right  of 
wisdom:  Plato  did  not  regard  his  own  rojiublic  as  a  barren 
dream.  lie  believed  that  sooner  or  laler  in  tho  course  of 
time  a  state  essentially  resembling  his  ideal  commonwealtli 
would  como  into  being.  Still  more  firmly  was  lie  con- 
vinced that  until  then  mankind  would  not  attain  their 
highest  possible  dcTclopmcnt.  To  ignore  this  real  aspect 
of  his  most  serious  work  is  to  lose  much  of  tho  author's 
moaning.  Yet  it  is  hardly  less  ervcneoua  to  interpret  a 
great  imoginativc  rrcation  au  pitd  d«  la  Itttre,  aa  if  esam< 


204 


PLATO 


ining  a  piece  of  actual  legislation.  Even  in  his  Laws,  a 
far  more  prosaic  writing,  Plato  himself  repeatedly  protests 
against  such  criticism.  In  his  most  aspiring  flights  he  is 
well  aware  of  the  difference  between  the  imaginary  and 
actual  embodiment  of  an  ideal,'  although  as  a  literary 
artist  he  gives  to  his  creations,  whether  in  anticipation  or 
retrospect,  an  air  of  sober  reality  and  matter-of-fact.  He 
is  more  in  earnest  about  principles  than  abftut  details,  and 
if  questioned  would  probably  be  found  more  confident 
with  regard  to  moral  than  to  political  truth.  He  may 
have  been  wholly  unconscious  of  the  inconsistencies  of  his 
scheme,  but  it  would  not  have  greatly  disconcerted  him  to 
have  discovered  them,  or  to  have  been  told  that  this  or 
that  arrangement  would  not  "  work."  He  would  have 
trusted  the  correction  of  his  own  rough  draft  to  the  philo- 
sopher-kings of  the  future. 

The  Republic  falls  naturally  into  five  portions.  (1)  Bk.  i._  is 
prelimiuary,  raising  the  main  question  about  justice.  (2)  Bks.  ii., 
lii.,  iv.  contain  the  outlines  of  the  perfect  state,  including  the 
education  of  the  "guardians,"  and  leading  up  to  the  definition  o( 
justice  (a)  in  the  state,  and  (6)  in  the  individual.  (3)  Bks.  v., 
vi.,  vii.  (which  to  some  critics  present  tlie  appearance  of  an  after- 
thought or  excrescence  on  the  original  design)  contain  the  cardinal 
provisions  (1)  of  communism  (for  the  guardians  only),  (2)  that 
philosophers  shall  be  kings,  (3)  of  higher  education  for  the  rulers 
(viz.,  the  philosopher-kings).  This  third  provision  occupies  bks. 
vi.  aiid  vii.  (which  have  again,  as  some  think,-  the  appearance  of 
an  outgrowth  from  bk.  v.).  (4)  Bks.  viii.  and  ix.,  resuming  the 
general  subject  from  bk.  iv.,  present  the  "  obverse  side,"  by  showing 
the  declension  of  the  state  and  individual  through  four  stages, 
until  in  the  life  of  tyranny  is  found  the  image  of  ideal  injustice,  as 
that  of  justice  was  found  in  the  life  of  the  perfect  state.  (5)  Bk. 
X.  forms  a  concluding  chapter,  in  which  several  of  the  foregoing 
enactments  are  reviewed,  and  the  work  ends,  like  the  Goraias,  with 
a  vision  of  judgment. 

Thus  the  main  outlines  of  t'le  scheme  are  contained  in  bks.  ii., 
iii.,  iv.,  viii.,  ix.  And  yet  bk.s.  v.,  vi.,  vii.  form  the  central 
portion,  a  sort  of  inner  kernel,  and  are  of  the  highest  significance.. 
In  speculating  about  the  composition  of  the  Repuhlic 
(as  is  the  fashion  of  some  interpreters),  it  is  important  to 
bear  in  mind  the  general  character  of  Plato's  writings. 

"The  conception  of  unity,"  says  Professor  Jowrtt,*  "really 
applies  in  very  different  degrees  to  different  kinds  of  art, — to  a 
statue,  for  example,  far  more  than  to  any  kind. of  literary  com- 

Sosition,  and  to  some  species  of  literature  far  more  than  to  others, 
for  does  the  dial£)|;ue  appear  to  be  a  style  of  composition  in  which 
the  requirement  ot  unity  is  most  stringent  ;  nor  should  the  idea 
of  unity  derived  from  one  sort-  of  art  be  hastily  transferred  to 
another.  .  .  .  Plato  subjects  himself  to  no  rule  of  this  sort.  Like 
every  great  artist  he  gives  unity  of  form  to  the  different  and 
apparently  distracting  topics  which  he  brings  together.  He  works 
freely,  and  is  not  to  be  supposed  to  have  arranged  every  part  of 
the  dialogue  before  he  begins  to  write.  He  fastens  or  weaves  to- 
gether the  frame  of  his  discourse  loosely  and  imperfectly,  and 
which  is  the  warp  and  which  the  woof  cannot  always  be  determined." 
It  should  be  added,  that  as  Dialectic  was  still  a  "  world 
not  realized,"  and  he  was  continually  conscious  of  using 
imperfect  methods,  he  was  not  solicitous  to  bind-  himself 
to  any  one  method,  or  to  watch  carefully  over  the  logical 
coherence  of  his  work.  "  Sailing  with  the  wind  of  his 
argument,"  he  often  tacks  and  veers,  changing  his  method 
with  his  subject-matter,  much  as  a  poet  might  adopt  a 
change  of  rhythm.  Absorbed  as  he  is  in  each  new  phase 
of  his  subject,  all  that  precedes  is  cancelled  for  the  time. 
And  much  of  what  is  to  come  is  deliberately  kept  out  of 
view,  because  ideas  of  high  importance  are  reserved  for 
the  place  where  their  introduction  will  have  most  effect. 
Another  cause  of  apparent  inconsequence  in  Plato  is  what 
he  himself  would  call  the  use  of  hypothesis.  He  works 
less  deductively  and  more  from  masses  of  generalized 
experience  than  Platonists  have  been  ready  to  admit. 
And  in  the  EepuUic  he  is  as  much  engaged  with  the 
criticism  of  an  actual  as  with  the  projection  of  an  ideal 
condition  of  society.^     If  we  llnew  more  of  the  working  of 

'  See  especially  Rep.,  v.  p.  472;  Legg.,  v.  p.  746. 

'  Jowett,  Introd.  to  the  Phiednts. 

•  Krohn,  Der  Plalonische  Staat,  Halle,  1876, 


Attic  institutions  as  he  observed  them,  we  should  often 
understand  him  better. 

These  general  considerations  should  be  weighed  against 
the  inequalities  which  have  led  some  critics  to  suppose 
that  the  "  first  sketch  of  the  state  "  in  bks.  ii.-iv.  is  much 
earlier  than  the  more  -exalted  views  of  bks.  v.-vli.  If  ra 
these  later  books  new  conditions  for  choosing  the  future 
rulers  are  allowed  to  emerge,  if  in  discussing  the  higher 
intellectual  virtues  the  simple  psychology  of  bk.  iv.is  lost 
sight  of  (it  reappears  in  the  Timxus),  if  the  "  knov.-ledge 
of  the  expedient "  at  first  required  falls  far  short  of  the 
conception  of  knowledge  afterwards  attained,  all  this  is 
quite  in  keeping  with  Plato's  manner  elsewhere,  and  may 
be  sufficiently  accounted  for  by  artistic  and  dialectical 
reserve.  It  can  hardly  be  an  altogether  fortuitous  circum- 
stance that'  the  culminating  crisis,  the  third  and  highest 
wave  of  difficulty, — the  declaration  that  philosophers  must 
be  kings  and  kings  philosophers,— comes  in  precisely  at 
the  central  point  of  the  whole  long  work. 

The  great  principle  of  the  political  supremacy  of  mind, 
though  thus  held  back  through  half  the  dialogue,  really 
dominates  the  whole.  It  may  be  read  between  the  lines 
all  through,  even  in  the  institution  of  •  gymnastic  and  the 
appraisement  of  the  cardinal  virtues.  It  is  a  genuine 
development  cf  Socratic  thought.  And  it  is  this  more 
than  any  other  single  feature  which  gives  i^x&^Repuhlic  a 
prophetic  significance  as  "  an  attempt  towards  anticioating 
the  work  of  future  generations."^ 

Other  aspects  of  the  great  dialogue,  the  Dorian  frame- 
work, so  inevitable  in  the  reaction  from  Ionian  life,  the 
traces  of  Pythagorean  influence,  the  estimate  of  oligarchy 
and  democracy,  the  characters  of  the  interlocutors  in  their 
bearing  on  the  exposition,  have  been  fully  treated  by 
recent  writers,  and  for  brevity's  sake  are  here  passed  over. 
There  are  other  points,  however,  which  must  not  be 
omitted,  because  they  are  more  intimately  related  to  the 
general  development  of  Plato's  thoughts. 

1.  The  question  debated  by  Proclus  has  been  raised 
before  and  since,  whether  the  proper  subject  of  the 
Repuhlic  is  justice  or  the-state.  The  doubt  would  be  more 
suggestive  if  put  in  a  somewhat  different  form  :  Is  Plato 
more  interested  in  the  state  or  the  individual  ?  That  he 
is  in  earnest  about  both,  and  that  in  his  view  of  them  they 
are  inseparable,  is  an  obvious  answer.  And  it  is  almost  a 
truism  to  say  that  political  relations  were  prior  to  ethical 
in  the  mind  of  a  Greek.  Yet  if  in  some  passages  the 
political  analogy  reacts  on  moral  notions  (as  in  the  defini- 
tion of  temperance),  in  others  the  state  is  spoken  of  in 
language  borrowed  from  individual  Ufa.  And  it  remains 
questionable  whether  the  ethics  or  the  politics  of  the 
Repuhlic  are  less  complete.  On  the  whole  Plato  himself 
seems  to  be  conscious  that  the  ideal  derived  from  the  life- 
work  of  Socrates  could  be  more  readily  stamped  on 
individual  lives  than  on  communities  of  men  (see  especi- 
ally Rep.,  vii.  528  A,  ix.  592). 

2.  The  analogy  of  the  individual  is  often  used  to  enforce 
the  requii-ement  of  political  unity  and  simplicity  (see 
especially  v.  462  C).  This  is  also  to  be  referred,  however, 
to  Plato's  general  tendency  to  strain  after  abstractions. 
He  had  not  yet  reached  a  point  of  view  from  which  he 
could  look  steadily  on  particulars  in  the  light  of  universal 
principles.  He  recurs  often  to  experience,  but  is  sooa 
carried  oS  again  into,  the  abstract  region  which  .to  him 
seemed  higher  and  purer.^  "  It  has  been  said  that  Plato 
flies  as  well  as  walks,  but  this  hardly  expresses  the  whole 
truth,  for  he  flies  and  walks  at  the  same  time,  and  is  in 
the  air  and  on  firm  ground  in  successive  instants  '(Jowett). 

<  Grote. 

*  See,  for  example,  the  admission  of  luxury  and  the  aft.er-pu*-tti% 
^tion  through  "music,"  bks.  ii.."iii. 


'•A 


P  L  A  T  O 


20  fj 


Plato's  scheme  of  communistn  liad  been  suggested  to  him 
partly  by  Dorian  institutions  and  partly  by  the  Pytliagorean 
rule.  But  it  was  further  commended  by  the  general  con- 
sideration that  the  state  is  a  higher  and  more  abstract 
unity  than  the  family.  The  lower  obligation  must  give 
way  to  the  higher ;  the  universal  must  overrule  the 
(►articular  bond. 

.3.  Similarly  it  may  be  argued  that,  while  the  subordina- 
tion of  music  to  state  discipline,  and  the  importance 
attached  to  rhythm  and  harmony  in  education,  had  like- 
wise a  connexion  with  Sparta  and  the  Pythagoreans 
severally,  Plato's  deliberate  attitude  towards  poetry  and 
art  could  hardly  be  other  than  it  is.  Philosophy,  while 
still  engaged  in  generalization,  could  not  assign  to  the 
imagination  its  proper  function.  "  .^sthetik  "  could  not 
enter  into  her  purview.  For  a  moment,  in  the  Symposium, 
the  ancient  quarrel  of  poetry  and  philosophy  had  seemed 
to  be  melted  in  a  dominant  tone,  but  this  was  only  a 
fond  anticipation.  Plato,  if  man  ever  did  so,  had  felt  the 
siren  charm,  but  he  is  now  embarked  on  a  more  severe 
endeavour,  and,  until  the  supreme  unity  of  truth  and  good 
is  grasped,  vagrant  fancy  must  be  subdued  and  silent. 

4.  In  the  early  education  of  the  guardians  a  place  is 
fcmnd  for  the  unconscious  virtue  acquired  through  habit 
which  the  Protagoras  and  Metio  stumbled  over  and  the 
I'fixdo  treated  with  disdain.  In  the  ideal  state,  however, 
this  lower  excellence  is  no  longer  a  wild  plant,  springing 
of  itself  through  some  uncovenanted  grace  of  inspiration,' 
but  cultivated  through  an  education  which  has  been 
purified  by  philosophy  so  as  to  be  in  harmony  with  reason. 
But  if  Plato  were  cross-questioned  as  to  the  intrinsic  value 
of  habits  so  induced  as  a  preservative  for  his  pupils  against 
temptation,  he  would  have  replied,  "  I  do  not  pretend  to 
have  removed  all  difficulties  from  their  path.  Enough  of 
evil  still  surrounds  them  to  test  their  moral  strength.  I 
have  but  cleared  the  well-springs  of  the  noxious  weeds 
that  have  been  fatal  to  so  many,  in  order  that  they  may 
have  little  to  unlearn,  and  be  exposed  only  to  such  dangers 
as  are  inevitable." 

5.  It  is  a  singular  fact,  and  worth  the  attention  of  those 
who  look  for  system  in  Plato,  that  the  definition  of  justice 
here  so  laboriously  wrought  out,  viz.,  the  right  division  of 
labour  between  the  three  classes  in  the  state  and  between 
the  three  corresponding  faculties  in  the  individual  soul,  is 
nowhere  else  repeated  or  applied,  although  the  tripartite 
division  of  the  soul  recurs  in  the  Tivissus,  and  the  notion 
of  justice  is  of  great  importance  to  the  arguments  of  the 
Politicus  and  the  Laws. 

6.  Before  leaving  the  Republic,  it  is  important  to  mark 
the  stage  which  has  now  been  reached  by  Plato's  doctrine 
of  ideas.  The  statements  of  the  Republic  on  this  subject 
are  by  no  means  everywhere  consistent. 

a.  Towards  the  end  of  bk.  v.  philosophers  are  defined 
as  lovers  of  the  whole,  who  recognize  the  unity  of  justice, 
goodness,  beauty,  each  in  itself,  as  distinguished  from  the 
many  just  or  good  or  beautiful  things.  The  former  are 
said  to  be  objects  of  knowledge,  the  latter  of  opinion, 
which  is  intermediate  between  knowledge  and  ignorance. 
Knowledge  is  of  being,  ignorance  of  the  non-existent, 
oi>inion  of  that  which  is  and  is  not. 

b.  In  bk.  vi.  there  is  a  more  elaborate  statement, 
implying  a  more  advanced  point  of  view.  The  "con- 
templation of  all  time  and  all  existence  "  is  a  riper  concep- 
tion than  "  the  love  of  each  thing  as  a  whole."  Ignorance 
and  nonentity  have  now  disappeared,  and  the  scale  is 
graduated  from  the  most  evanescent  impression  of  sense 
to  the  highest  reach  of  absolute  knowledge.  And  in  the 
Righest  region  there  is  again  a  gradation,  rising  to  the  form 
of  good,  and  descending  from  it  to  the  true  forms  of  all 
things.     In  the  iipplieation  of  this  scheme,  to  the  theory 


of  education  in  bk.  vii.  there  are  still  further  refinements. 
The  psychological  analysis  becomes  more  subtle,  and  more 
stress  is  laid  on  the  connexion  of  ideas. 

c.  The  doctrine  reverts  to  a  cruder  aspect  in  bk.  x., 
where  we  are  told  of  an  ideal  bed,  which  is  one  only  and 
the  pattern  of  all  the  many  actual  bed.s. 

d.  A  yet  different  phase  of  idealism  presents  it-sclf  in 
bk.  ix.  {sub  Jill.),  in  the  mention  of  a  "  jiattern  "  of  the 
perfect  state  laid  up  in  heaven  which  the  philosopher  is 
to  make  his  rule  of  life. 

What  is  said  above  concerning  Plato's  mode  of  composi- 
tion has  some  bearing  on  these  inconsistencies  of  expres- 
sion. And  that  bks.  vi.,  vii.,  as  being  the  most  important, 
were  finished  last  is  a  not  untenable  hypothesis.  But  that 
Plato,  in  prei)aring  the  way  for  what  he  had  in  contempla- 
tion, should  content  himself  with  provisional  exjiressions 
which  he  had  himself  outgrown,  or  that  in  a  casual  illus- 
tration (as  in  bk.  x.)  he  should  go  back  to  a  crude  or  even 
childish  form  of  his  own  theory,  is  equally  conceivable 
and  in  accordance  with  his  manner  elsewhere.  Socrates 
in  the  Parmenides  confessedly  wavers  on  this  very  point. 
And  there  are  "  ideas  "  of  the  four  elements  in  the  Tiinxus. 

VI.  Eul/iydemus,  Parmenides,  Tliesetelus,  Sophist,  Slalfs-  Thr  Jia* 
man,  Philebus  (the  dialectical  dialogues).  —  Even  in  the  '«'"^»l 
most  advanced  metaphysics  of  the  Republic  there  is  a  "  "*"'*' 
hyperbolical,  transcendental  tendency,  from  which  Plato 
ultimately  to  some  extent  worked  himself  free.  But  it 
was  not  in  conversation  with  "  dear  Glaucon,"  or  "  between 
the  lines  "  of  an  ethico-political  writing,  that  this  partial 
emancipation  could  be  effectually  attained.  Wo  have 
now  to  consider  a  series  of  dialogues,  probably  intended 
for  a  narrower  circle  of  readers,  in  which  Plato  grapples 
directly  with  the  central  difficulties  of  his  own  theory 
of  knowing  and  being.  It  is  not  necessary  to  assume 
that  all  of  these  are  later  than  the  Republic.  The  position 
of  the  Euthydemus  and  Parmenides  in  the  order  of  com- 
position is  very  uncertain.  The  Thexletus  has  points  of 
affinity  with  the  Republic.  The  Sophist,  Politicus,  and 
Philebus  are  in  a  later  style.  But,  on  account  of  their 
cognate  subject-matter,  these  six  dialogues  may  be  .con- 
veniently classed  together  in  a  group  by  themselves.  And 
the  right  place  for  such  a  group  is  intermediate  between 
the  Repiublic  and  the  Laws. 

The  unity  of  the  object  of  definition,  the  identity  of 
virtue  and  knowledge,  the  existence  of  an  absolute  good, 
which  would  be  universally  followed  if  universally  known, 
and  of  a  standard  of  truth  which  is  implied  in  the 
confession  of  ignorance,  were  postulates  underlying  the 
Socratic  process,  which  in  bo  far  made  no  claim  to  bo  a 
"philosophy  without  assumptions."  These  postulates, 
when  once  apprehended,  drew  Plato  on  to  speculate 
concerning  the  nature,  the  object,  and  the  method  of 
knowledge.  Now,  so  far  as  we  have  hitherto  followed  him, 
his  speculation  has  either  been  associated  with  ethical 
inquiry,  or  has  been  projected  in  a  poetical  ami  semi- 
mythical  form.  In  the  PLrdrus,  however,  the  vision  of 
ideas  was  expressly  conjoined  with  an  outline  of  psychology 
and  a  foreshadowing  of  scientific  method.  And,  while  the 
opposition  of  ideas  to  phenomena  and  of  knowledge  to 
opinion  has  been  repeatedly  assumed,  it  has  also  been 
implied  that  there  is  a  way  between  them,  and  that  the 
truth  can  only  bo  approached  by  man  through  interrogation 
of  experience.  For  it  is  nowhere  supposed  that  the  human 
inquirer  is  from  the  first  in  a  position  to  deduce  facts  from 
ideas.  Much  rather,  the  light  of  the  ideas  is  one  which 
fitfully  breaks  in  upon  experience  as  men  struggle  towards 
the  universal. 

But  it  is  not  less  true  that  the  metaphysical  aspirations 
from  which  Socrates  had  seemed  to  recall  men's  thoughts 
had  been  reawakened  in  consequence  of  the  impulse  which 


206 


PLATO 


Jioerates  himself  had  given.  From  asking,  Is  virtue  one  ? 
iCan  virtue-  be  taught  1  Plato  passes  on  to  ask,  What  is 
.unity?  What  are  knowledge  and  being?  From  criticiz- 
ing imperfect  modes  of  teaching  virtue,  he  has  begun  to 
speculate  about  the  right  and  wrong  uses  of  the  intellect, 
and  from  dramatic  portraits  of  the  individual  Protagoras  or 
Gorgias  goes  on  to  the  ideal  delineation  of  the  sophist.  He 
has  entered  upon  the  "longer  way,"  and  is  no  longer  con- 
tented with  mere  "hypotheses."  With  this  demand  for 
scientific  precision  his  conception  of  the  ideas  themselves  is 
modified,  and  he  strives  anew  to  conceive  of  them  in  relation 
to  one  another,  to  the  mind,  and  to  the  world.  As  the 
balance  of  ethical  truth  was  restored  by  admitting  an  uncon- 
scious (or  inspired)  conformity  to  reason,  so  now  a  fresh 
attempt  is  made  on  the  intellectual  side  to  bridge  the  gulf 
between  sense  and  knowledge. 

This  endeavour  involves,  not  only  an  expansion  of  the 
method  of  Socrates,  but  an  examina;tion  of  the  earlier 
philosophies  from  which  Socrates  had  turned  away.  Their 
influence  on  Plato  has  been  traceable  in  the  preceding 
dialogues,  though,  except  in  the  case  of  Pj'thagoreanisra 
{Plixd.,  Rep.),  it  has  been  mostly  indirect  and  casual.  But 
in  these  dialectical  dialogues  he  manifests  his  serious  con- 
viction that  the  contemporary  fallacies  which  formed  the 
chief  hindrance  to  inquiry  were  deeply  rooted  in  forms 
of  thought  created  by  earlier  thinkers,  above  all  by 
lleraclitiis  and  Parmenides.  To  the  exclusiveness  of  their 
iirst  principles  as  held  by  their  followers  Plato  attributed 
the  barrenness'  and  impracticable  unreality  of  many 
discussions,  which  put  shadow-fighting  and  controversy  in 
the  place  of  real  investigation,  and  led  men  to  think  that 
truth  was  unattainable.  He  therefore  enters  into  conver- 
sation, as  it  were,  with  the  great  minds  of  former  times, 
and  in  the  spirit  of  Socrates  compels  each  of  them  to  yield 
up  his  secret,  and  to  acknowledge  a  supplemental  truth. 
To  this  effort  he  may  very  probably  have  been  stimulated 
by  the  dialectical  activity  of  his  Socratic  friends  at  Megara, 
whose  logical  tastes  had  drawn  them  towards  Eleaticism. 
But,  unlike  them,  while  strengthening  his  metaphysical 
theory,  he  was  also  led  to  give  to  his  political  soeculations 
a  more  practical  turn. 
!uth-y-  The  Euthydemus  is  a  treatise  "  De  Sophisticis  Elenchis  " 
lemus.  in  the  form  of  a  farce,  and  may  serve  to  introduce  the  five 
other  dialogues,  as  the  encounter  with  Thrasymachus  intro- 
duces the  serious  part  of  the  Republic.  Under  the  veil  of 
mockery  there  is  more  of  concentrated  thought,  and.  also 
more  of  bitterness,  in  this  dialogue  than  in  the  Protagoras 
or  the  Gorgias. 

A  sample  of  educational  dialectic — in  which  Socrates 
draws  out  of  young  Clinias  the  admissions  (1)  that  a 
philosophy  is  needed,  (2)  that  the  highest  philosophy  is 
a  science  of  king-craft,  which  remains  for  the  present 
undefined, — is  contrasted  with  a  series  of  ridiculous 
sophisms,  propounded  by  Dionysodorus  and  his  brother 
Euthydemus,  in  which  absolute  and  relative  notions, 
whether  affirmative  or  negative,  object  and  subject, 
universal  and  particular,  substance  and  attribute,  action 
and  modality,  are  capriciously  confused.  Crito,  to  whom 
Socrates  narrates  the  scene,  is  moved  to  contempt.  But 
Socrates  warns  him  not  on  this  account  to  despair  of 
]ihilosophy.  In  conclusion,  Isocrates,  or  some  one  else, 
who  prematurely  mixes  up  philosophy  with  practical 
politics,  is  cautioned  against  spoiling  two  good  things. 

Such  puzzles  as — How  can  I  learn  either  what  I  know 
or  what  1  do  not  know  ?  ^  How  can  things  become  what 
they  are  not?  How  is  falsehood  or  denial  possible? — 
although  treated  jocularly  here,  will  be  found  returning 
afterwards  to  "  trouble  the  mind's  eye." 


'  Comii.  Mcno. 


Plato  apjiears  in  the  same  act  td  have  become  aware  of 
his  affinity  with  Parmenides,  and  to  have  been  led  to  recon- 
sider the  foundations  of  his  own  doctrine.  The  one  being 
of  Parmenides  was  a  more  abstract  notion  than,  justice, 
beauty,  or  the  good.  And  the  Zenonian-  method  had 
more  pretension  to  exactness  than  the  Socratic.  But  it 
remained  barren,  because  contented  to  repeat  its  own  first 
essays  in  the  destructive  analysis  of  experience,  without 
rising  to  the  examination  of  its  own  first  principles.  For 
this  higher  criticism,  of  which-  he  himself  also  stood  in 
need,  Plato  looks  up  from  the  disciples  to  the  master, 
Parmenides.  The  appeal  to  him  is  put  into  the  mouth  of 
Socrates,  as  a  very  young  man,  who  has  framed  for  him- 
self a  theory  of  ideas,  and  would  gladly  see  the  Zenonian 
process  applied  to  the  notions  of  sameness,  difierence,  like-. 
ness,  unlikeness,  unity,  and  being. 

Parmenides,  whom  Plato  treats  with  tender  reverence 
not  unmixed  with  irony,  proposes  to  the  youth  a  series  of 
questions  which  reveal  the  crudity  of  the  doctrine  of  ci3)/. 
(1)  Are  there  ideas  of  trivial  things  ?2  (2)  How  do  things 
"  partake  "  of  them  ?  (3)  Must  not  idealism  proceed  in 
infinitum  ?  (4)  If  ideas  are  thoughts,  do  they  and  their 
participants  think  ?  (5)  If  they  are  patterns,  and  things 
resemble  them,  must  there  not  be  a  pattern  of  the  resem- 
blance, and  so  on  in  infinitum  ?  (6)  If  absolute,  are  they 
thinkable  by  man? 

These  difficulties  are  real,  and  yet  to  deny  ideas  is  to 
destroy  philosophy.  (As  the  paradoxical  doubts  in  the 
Protagoras  do  not  shake  the  faith  of  Socrates  in  the 
existence  of  good,  so  neither  does  Plato  here  intend  for  a 
moment  to  derogate  from  the  belief  in  the  existence  of  the 
One  and  the  Trile.) 

Parmenides  advises  Socrates  to  arm  himself  for  the  further  pur- 
suit of  truth  (1)  by  the  higher  application  and  (2)  by  tlie  extension 
or  completion  of  the  Zenonian  method.  (1)  The  method  is  to  be 
applied  to  abstracWons.  (2)  It  is  not  enough  to  show  the  inferences 
^vhich  may  be  drawn  from  the  admission  of  an  hypothesis,  but 
account  must  also  be  taken  of  the  inferences  which  follow  from  its 
rejection. 

Parmenides  exemplifies  his  suggestion  by  examining  his  own  first 
principle  in  conversation  with  a  youth  who,  while  a  contemporary 
of  Socrates,  is  a  namesake  of  Plato's  pupil  Ai-istotle."  Not  content 
with  the  affirmative  and  negative  hypotheses,  he  pursues  either 
along  two  lines,  according  as  either  terni  of  the  proposition  is 
emphasized,  and  this  not  only  as  regards  the  hypothesis  of  unity, 
but  also  as  applied  to  the  alternative  hypothesis  of  plurality.  The 
result,  as  in  the  Prolagwas,  is  purely  destructive,  and  the  dialogue 
ends  abruptly  without  a  word  of  reply  from  Socrates.  . 

The  second  part  of  the  Parmenides' md.y  be  regarded  as 
an  experiment  in  which  Plato  "  assays  to  go"  in  Eleatic 
armour.  Yet  the  strange  -web  is  "shot"  with  colours  of 
original  thought.  .The  mode  of  conceiving  time  and 
becoming,  and  the  vision  of  nothingness  towards  the  end, 
may  be  noted  as  especially  Platonic.  These  passages  may 
be  regarded  in  the  same  light  as  the  wise  words  of  Pro- 
tagoras or  the  sober  truths  which  occur  amidst  the  wild 
fancies  of  the  Cratyhis.  They  should  not  mislead  the 
interpreter  into  a  search  for  recondite  meanings. 

The  Zenonian  methqd  has  been  carried  out  to  the  utmost 
in  application  to  the  highest  subject,  and  has  led  the  mind 
into  a  maze  of  contradiction,  It  remains  to  call  in  question 
the  method  itself,  and  the  notion  of  absolute  identity  and 
difference  on  which  it  hinges^  and  so  to  lay  anew  the 
foundation-stone  of  thought. 

Before  this  can  be  attempted,  however,  another  set  of 
difficulties  have  to  be  met,  and  another  set  of  philosophers 
examined.  For  the  current  scepticism  had  undermined 
the  conception  of  knowledge  as  well  as  that  of  being,  and 
the  fame  of  Heraclitus  was  hardly  second  to  that  of 
Parmenides.     Protagoras  appeared  in  a  former  dialogue  as 

^  Comp.  Hep.,  X,  597. 

'  Comp.  the  younger  Socr.ites  of  the  Polilicus.  It  would  be  pie- 
c.irious  to  draw  any  inference  from  this  minute  fact. 


i 


PLATO 


20; 


tbe  «hamj)ion  of  ordinary  morality ;  he  is  now  made  the 
exponent  of  ordinary  thinking.  His  saying  "  Man  the 
measure"  is' shown  to  rest  on  the  unstable  basis  of  the 
Heraclitcan  ■  flux.  By  an  elaborate  criticism  of  both 
theories  knowledge  is  at  last  separated  from  the  relativity 
of  sense ;  but  the  subsequent  attempt  to  distinguish  on 
abstract  grounds  between  true  and  false  opinion,  and  to 
define  knowledge  as  true  opinion  with  a  reason  (comp. 
Meno),  proves  ineffectual.  Plato  still  shows  traces  of 
Megarian  influence.  But  the  disjurtctive  method  of  the 
Parmenides  is  not  resumed.  The  indirect  i:)roofs  are  so 
arranged  as  to  exhibit  the  skill  of  Socrates  in  "  bringing 
t.)  the  birth"  the  germs  of  thought  in  a  richly-endowed  and 
"  pregnant  "  young  mind.  Thcsetetus  is  the  embodiment 
of  the  philosophic  nature  described  in  Rep.,  bk.  vi.,  and  has 
already  been  trained  by  Theodorus  of  Cyrene  in  geometry 
and  the  other  preparatory  sciences  of  Rep.,  bk.  vii.  It  is  in 
conversation  with  Theodorus  that  Socrates  impressively 
contrasts  the  lives  of  the  lawyer  and  the  philosopher.  The 
Theaitetus  marks  a  great  advance  in  clearness  of  meta- 
physical and  psychological  expression.  Sen  for  example 
the  passage  (184-186)  in  which  the  independent  function 
of  the  mind  is  asserted,  and  ideas  are  shown  to  be  the  truth 
of  experience.  There  is  also  a  distinct  approach  towards  a 
critical  and  historical  method  in  philosophy,  while  the  per- 
fection of  style  continues  unimpaired,  and  the  person  of 
Socrates  is  as  vividly  represented  as  in  any  dialogue. 

Notwithstanding  the  persistence  of  an  indirect  and 
negative  method,  the  spirit  of  this  dialogue  also  is  the 
reverse  of  sceptical.  "  Socrates  must  assume  the  reality  of 
knowledge  or  deny  himself"  (197  A).  Perhaps  in  no 
metaphysical  writing  is  the  balance  more  firmly  held 
between  experience,  imagination,  and  reflexion.  Plato 
■would  seem  to  have  made  a  compact  with  himself  to 
abstain  rigidly  from  snatching  at  the  golden  fruit  that  had 
so  often  eluded  his  grasp,  and  to  content  himself  with 
laboriously  "  cutting  steps  "  towards  the  summit  that  was 
still  unsealed. 

With  Plato,  as  with  other  inventive  writers,  a  time 
Bcems  to  have  arrived  when  he  desired  to  connect  succes- 
sive works  in  a  series.  Thus  in  planning  the  Sopkistes  he 
linked  it  to  the  I'hewktus  (which  had  been  written  with- 
out any  such  intention),  and  projected  a  whole  tetralogy 
of  dialectical  dialogues,  I'hetelctus,  Sophisles,  Foliticus, 
Philosophtis,  of  which  the  last  piece  seems  never  to  have 
been  written. 

After  an  interval,  of  which  our  only  measure  is  a  change 
of  fitylo,  the  philosopher  returns  to  the  great  central 
question  of  knowledge  and  being.  The  obstacle  in  his 
path,  on  which  he  has  often  played  with  light  satire, 
dramatic  portraiture,  and  indirect  allusion,  is  now  to  bo 
made  the  object  of  a  seriously  planned  attack.  He  has 
made  his  approaches,  and  the  enemy's  fortress  is  to  bo 
forthwith  sapi>cd  and  overthrown.  This  hostile  position 
is  not  merely  the  "  Sophistik  "  which,  as  some  tell  us,  is  an 
invention  of  the  Germans,  and  as  Plato  himself  declares 
id  only  the  reflexion  or  embodiment  of  the  average 
mind,'  but  the  fallacy  of  fallacies,  the  prime  falsehood 
(ir/)WTo>/  i/^tCSo?)  of  all  contemporary  thought.  This  is 
nothing  else  than  the  crude  absoluteness  of  afllrmation  and 
negation  which  was  ridiculed  in  the  Eutliydemus,  and  has 
been  elsewhere  mentioned  as  the  first  principle  of  the  art 
of  controversy.*  For  dramatic  purposes  this  general  error  is 
personified.  And  the  word  "  sophist,"  which  had  somehow 
become  the  IHe  noire  of  the  Platonic  school,  thus  for  the 
first  time  fixedly  acquires  the  significance  which  has  since 
clung  to  the  name. — That  Plato  himself  -would  not  ndhcro 
pedantically  to  the  connotation  here  imi)iied  is  shown  by 


»  Rep.,  vi.  493. 


'  AFTiXoyiic^ 


the  admission,  at  the  opening  of  the  dialogue,  that 
amongst  other  disgui.ses  under  which  the  philosopher 
walks  the  earth,  the  sophist  is  one. — In  this  dialogue,  as 
in  the  Parmenides,  a  new  method  is  introduced,  and  again 
by  an  Eleatic  teacher.  This  method  is  repeated  with 
improvements  in  the  Politicus,  and  once  more  referred  to 
in  the  Philehus.  It  bears  a  strong  resemblance  to  tho 
"  synagoge"  and  "  diaeresis"  of  the  Phsdrus,  but  is  applied 
by  the  "friend  from  Elea"  with  a  degree  of  pedantry  which 
Socrates  nowhere  betrays.  And  tho  two  ijiethods,  although 
kindred,  have  probably  come  through  different  channels, — 
the  classifications  of  the  Plucdrus  being  Plato's  own 
generalization  of  the  Socratic  process,  while  the  dichotomies 
of  the  Sophistes  and  Politicus  are  a  caricature  of  Socrates 
cast  in  the  Mogarian  mould.  Plato  seems  to  have  regardetl 
this  method  as  an  implement  which  might  be  used  with 
advantage  only  when  the  cardinal  principles  on  which  it 
turned  had  bean  fully  criticized." 

1.  After  various  attempts  to  "catch  the  sophist,"  he  is  defined 
as  the  maker  of  an  unreal  likeness  of  truth.  Here  tho  difficulty 
begins-— for  the  definition  implies  tho  e.\istence  of  the  unreal,  i.e., 
of  not-being.  In  our  extremity  it  is  necessary  to  "lay  hands  on 
our  father  l^armenidca." 

2.  Tlie  contradictious  attendant  on  tho  notion  of  "being," 
whether  as  held  by  Parmenides  or  his  opponents  or  by  the  "  less 
exact"  thinkers  who  camo  after  them,  are  then  examined,  and  in 
an  extremely  subtle  and  siigKCstivo  passage  (2'46-249)  an  attempt 
is  made  to  mediate  between  idealism  and  materialism.  The  result 
is  that  while  consummate  being  is  exempt  from  change  it  cannot 
be  devoid  of  life  and  motion.  Like  children,  ^Give  us  both,'  say 
we." 

3.  This  lends  up  to  the  main  question  : — (n)  are  different  notions 
incommunicable,  or  (6)  are  all  ideas  indiscriminately  communicable, 
or  (c)  is  there  communion  of  some  kinds  and  not  of  others!  Tho 
last  view  is  alone  tenable,  and  is  confirmeil  by  experience.  And 
qf  the  true  combination  and  sejiavation  of  kinds  tho  philosopher  is 
•judge. 

4.  Then  it  is  asked  (in  order  to  "bind  the  sophist")  whether 
being  is  predicable  of  not-being. 

Five  chief  kinds  (or  categories)  aro  now  examined,  viz.,  being, 
rest,  motion,  sameness,  difference.  Rest  and  motion  aro  rautuallj 
incommunicabio,  but  dilTerenco  is  no  less  universal  than  being  itself. 
For  everything  is  "other"  than  the  rest,  i.e.,  is  not.  Thus. 
positive  and  negative  not  only  coexist  but  are  coextensive. 

6.  And,  in  spite  of  Parmenides,  wo  have  discovered  the  existence, 
and  also  the  nature,  of  not-being.  It  follows  that  tho  mere  pur- 
suit of  contradictions  is  cliildish  and  useless  and  wholly  incompa. 
tible  with  a  philosophic  spirit. 

Negation,  falsity,  contradiction,  are  three  notions  whicli 
Plato  from  his  height  of  abstraction  does  hot  hold  apart. 
His  position  is  tho  converse  of  the  Spinozistic  saying, 
"  Omnis  dctcrminatio  est  negalio."  According  to  him, 
every  negative  implies  an  affirmative.  And  his  main  point 
is  that  true  negation  is  correlative  to  true  affirmation, 
much  as  he  has  said  in  the  Phxdrus  that  the  dialectician 
separates  kinds  according  to  tho  "lines  and  veins  of 
nature."  The  SophiMes  is  a  standing  protest  against  tho 
error  of  marring  the  finely-graduated  lineaments  of  truth, 
and  so  destroying  the  vitality  of  thought. 

Tho  idealists  whom  the  Eleatic  stranger  troat«  so  gently 
have  been  identified  with  tho  Megarians.  But  moy  not 
Plato  be  reflecting  on  a  Megarian  influence  operating  within 
tho  Academy  ? 

Here,  as  partly  already  in  tho  Pai-vienidct  and  The.rtetut, 
the  ideas  assume  tho  nature  of  categories,  and  being  ia 
tho  sum  of  positive  attributes,- while  negation,  as  tho 
.shadow  of  affirmation,  is  likewise  finally  comprehended 
in  tho  totality  of  being. 

The  remark  made  incidentAlly,  but  with  intense  em- 
phasis, that  tho  universe  lives  and  moves  "according  to 
God,"  is  an  indication  of  the  religious  tone  which  rcapjicara 
increasingly  in  the  Po/itims,  P/il/clms,  Tiviiruf,  and  Laws. 

In  ])assing  on  to  con.sidcr  tho  statesman,  true  and  false, 
the  Eleatic  stranger  docs  not  forget  tho  K-iison  which  has 
just  been  learned.     While  coiutinuing  his  method  uf  dicho- 


208 


PLATO 


tomies,  ho  is  careful  to  look  on  both  sides  of  each  alterna- 
live,  and  he  no  longer  insists  on  dividing  between  this  and 
not-this  when  anotlier  mode  of  classification  is  more  natural. 
A  rule  not  hitherto  applied  is  now  brought  forward,  the 
rule  of  proportion  or  right  measure  {to  /xeVpcov),  as  distin- 
guished from  arbitrary  limitations.  Nor  is  formal  logical 
treatment  any  longer  felt  to  be  adequate  to  the  subject 
in  hand,  but  an  elaborate  myth  is  introduced.  On  the 
ethico-political  side'  also  a  change  has  come  over  Plato.  As 
he  has  stripped  his  ideas  of  transcendental  imagery,  so  in 
reconsidering  his  philosopher-king  he  turns  away  from  the 
smiling  optimism  of  the  Republic  and  looks  for  a  scientific 
statesmanship  that  shall  lay  a  strong  grasp  upon  the  actual 
iWorld.  He  also  feels  more  bitterly  towards  the  demagogues 
and  other  rulers  of  Hellas.  The  author  of  the  Poliiicus 
must  have  had  some  great  quarrel  with  mankind.  But  so 
far  as  they  will  receive  it  he  is  still  intent  on  doing  them 
good. 

1.  The  king  is  first  defined  as  a  herdsman  of  men,  who  as  "slow 
bipeds  "  are  distinguished  from  the  jiig  and  the  ape.  But  the 
king  is  not  all  in  all  to  his  charges,  as  the  herdsman  is.  The 
above  definition  confuses  liumau  with  divine  rule. 

2.  Now  the  universe  is  like  a  top,  which  God  first  winds  in  one 
direction  and  then  leaves  to  spin  the  other  way.  In  the  former 
or  divine  cycle  all  w.'\s  spontaneous,  and  mankind,  who  had  all 
things  in  common,  were  under  the  immediate  care  of  gods.  They 
were  happy,  if  they  used  their  leisure  in  interrogating  nature.  But 
in  this  reign  of  Zeus  it  is  far  otherwise.  Men  have  to  order  their 
own  ways  and  try  to  imitate  in  some  far-oif  manner  the  ail-but 
forgotten  divine  rule. 

3.  Therefore  in  our  present  definition  the  term  '"  superintendent " 
must  be  substituted  for  "herdsman." 

What  special  kind  of  superintendence  is  true  statesmansliip  ? 

4.  By  way  of  an  example,  the  art  of  weaving  is  defined.  The 
example  shows  that  kingcraft  has  fii'st  to  be  separated  from  other 
kindred  arts,  both  causal  and  co-operative.  Kine  categories  are 
adduced  which  exhaust  social  functions.  Eight  are  eliminated,  and 
the  ninth,  the  class  of  ministers,  remains.  Of  these  (a)  slaves,  (6) 
hirelings,  (c)  traders,  (d)  officials,  (e)  priests  are  again  jiarted  off", 
although  the  last  are  only  with  difficulty  separated  from  the  king, 
when  {f)  a  strange  medley  of  monstrous  creatures  come  into  view. 
Some  are  fierce  like  lions,  some  crafty  like  the  fox,  and  some  have 
mixed  natures  like  centaurs  and  satyrs.  These  are  the  actual  rulers 
of  mankind,  more  sophistical  and  juggling  than  the  sophist  him- 
self.    And  they  too  must  be  separated  from  the  true  king. 

5.  The  familiar  tripartite  distinction  of  monarchy,  oligarchy, 
democracy,  is  doubled  by  inti'oducing  into  each  the  distinction 
involved  in  the  presence  or  absence  of  wealth,  and  in  the  observance 
or  non-observance  of  law.  But  no  one  of  the  six  carries  in  itself  a 
scientific  principle. 

The  true  government  is  the  rale,  not  of  many,  but  of  one  or  of 
a  few.  "  And  they  may  govern,  whether  poor  or  rich,  by  freewill 
or  compulsion,  and  either  with  or  without  law,  so  long  as  they 
govern  scientifically." 

6.  The  respondent,  a  youthful  namesake  of  Socrates,  is  shocked 
at  the  remark  that  the  true  ruler  may  govern  without  law. 

This  leads  to  a  discussion  of  the  nature  of  law,  which  is  com- 

Sared  to  the  prescription  left  by  a  physician.  If  present,  he  might 
ispense  with  his  own  rule.  So  the  presence  of  a  competent  ruler 
is  better  than  the  sovereignty  of  law,  which  makes  no  allowance 
for  nature  or  circumstance,  but  tyrannically  forces  its  own  way. 
Imagine  medicine,  navigation,  &c.,  similarly  conducted  by  time- 
lionoured  prescription,  with  penalties  for  inuovation ; — what  would 
'become  of  civilization  ?  Yet  if  law  is  disregarded  by  rulers  who 
'are  unscientific  and  warped  by  self-interest,  this  leads  to  far- worse 
'evils.  For  the  laws  are  based  on  some  experience  and  wisdom. 
'Hence,  in  the  continued  absence  of  the  true  ruler,  the  best  course, 
though  only  second  best,  is  the  strict  observance  of  law.  And  he 
who  so  rules  in  humble  imitation  of  the  scientific  governor  may  be 
truly  called  a  king,  although.if  the  divine  lawgiver  were  to  appear 
his  living  will  would  supersede  the  law. 

7.  As  it  is,  though  cities  survive  many  evils,  yet  many  are  ship- 
^wrecked  because  of  the  ignorance  of  those  at  the  helm.  The  order 
of  badness  in  the  actual  states  is — 

1.  Constitutional  monarchy. 

I     I 2.  Constitutional  oligarchy, 

11    I —  3.  Law-abiding  democracy. 
I     —  4.  Law-breaking  democracy. 
I 5.  Law-defying  oligarchy. 
6.  Tyranny. 

8.  It  remains  to  separate  from  the  true  ruler  those  who  co-operate 
Kitlt  liim  as  subordinates,  the  general,  the  judge,  the  orator.     His 


own  peculiar  function  is  an  art  of  weaving  strength  (the  warp)  witfi 
gentleness  (the  woof),  when  education  has  prepared  them, — and  this 

(1)  by  administration,  (2)  by  marriage. 

The  four  preceding  dialogues  have  shown  (1)  the 
gradual  transformation  of  the  Platonic  ideas  (while  still 
objective)  into  forms  of  thought,  (2)  the  tendency  to  group 
them  into  series  of  categories,  (3)  a  corresponding  advance 
in  psychological  classification,  (4)  an  increasing  importance 
given  to  method,  (5)  the  inclination  to  inquire  into  pro- 
cesses (y€vc'o-£is)  as  well  as  into  the  nature  of  being. 

Meanwhile  Plato's  approach  to  the  Eleatics,  though  in  the 
way  of  criticism,  has  brought  into  prominence  the  notions 
of  unity,  being,  sameness,  difierence,  and  has  left  some- 
what in  abeyance  the  idea  of  good.  To  this  "highest  of 
all  studies  "  Plato  now  returns,  equipped  with  his  improved 
instruments,  and  ready  to  forge  new  ones  in  the  same 
laboratory,  or  in  some  other,  should  occasion  serve.  His 
converse  with  Parmenides  ended  in  his  assertion  of  an 
element  of  difierence  pervading  all  things,  in  other  words, 
of  an  indeterminate  element  underlying  all  deterniinations. 
This  brings  him  again  into  relation  with  the  Pythagoreans, 
who  had  simUarly  asserted  the  combination  of  finite  and 
infinite  in  the  universe. 

Taking  advantage  of  their  help,  he  gains  a  more 
advanced  (but  still  ideal)  conception  of  the  concrete  har- 
mony of  things,  and  approaches  the  definition  of  that  which 
in  the  Republic  he  but  shadowed  forth. 

With  this  most  serious  inquiry  there  is  combined  (as  in 
the  Sophistes  and  Politiciis)  an  ironical  and  controversial 
use  of  dialectic,  by  which  the  juggler  and  false  pretender 
(who  is  in  this  case  the  goddess  of  pleasure),  after  claiming 
the  highest  place,  is  thrust  down  to  the  lowest. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  style  of  the  Philelms  is  far 
from  brilliant,  or  even  clear.  In  the  effort  of  connecting 
abstractions  Plato's  movement  is  more  laboured  than  in  his 
first  glad  realization  of  them. 

Instead  of  attempting  here  to  follow  the  windings  of 
the  dialogue,  it  must  suffice  to  state  the  main  result 
Neither  pleasure  nor  knowledge  is  the  highest  good,  anA 
the  good  eludes  definition  ;  but  the  shrine,  or  habitation, 
of  the  good  is  a  complex  life  of  which  the  elements  are,  in 
order  of  merit — (1)  measure,  the  cause  of  all  right  mixture; 

(2)  (a)  beauty,  the  effect,  and  (6)  reality,  the  inseparablt 
condition ;  (3)  intellect ;  (4)  science,  art,  and  right 
opinion ;  (5)  pure  pleasure  unaccompanied  with  pain. 
"  Not  all  the  animal  kingdom  shall  induce  us  to  put 
pleasure  first." 

The  Philehtis  introduces  us  to  the  interior  of  the 
Academy  in  the  lifetime  of  the  master.  More  than  any 
other  of  the  dialogues  it  recalls  Aristotle's  description  of 
Plato's  "teaching.  But,  while  his  followers  seem  early  to 
have  fallen  under  the  dominance  of  the  latest  jihase  of  his 
doctrine,  Plato  himself,  even  in  the  Philtbus,  is  still  detached 
from  any  servitude  to  the  creations  of  his  own  mind.  He 
manipulates  them  as  the  medium  for  expressing  his  fresh 
thoughts,  but  they  are  not  yet  crj'stallized  into  a  system. 

"I  will  remind  you,"  Socrates,  "of  what  has  been 
omitted,"  says  Protarchus  at  the  conclusion  of  this 
dialogue.  The  last  (presumably)  of  Plato's  metaphysical 
writings  thus  fitly  ends  with  a  confession  of  incompletel 
ness.  Bat  if,  as  M.  Renan  says,  "  the  most  fatal  error  is 
to  believe  that  one  serves  one's  country  by  calumniating 
those  who  founded  it,"  neither  is  it  for  the  interest  of 
science  to  ignore  these  imperfect  anticipations.  By 
methods  elaborated  in  the  course  of  centuries,  and  fa^ 
more  sure  than  any  which  Plato  had  at  his  command, 
man]iind  have  gained  an  extent  of  knowledge  which  he 
dreamt  not  oi}     But  the  Greek  metaphysician  is  none  the 

>  See,  however,  PUit.,  272  C,  D. 


r  L  A  T  o 


209 


fuss  a  pioneer  of  knowledge,'  while  the  special  sciences  of 
ethics  and  psychology  had  been  carried  from  infancy  to 
adolescence  in  a  single  lifetime. 

Vfl.  Timseus,  Critias,  [I/ermncrates]. — ^As  tim'  Sophist es 
and  Polili'-us  were  written  in  continuation  of  the  Thextetus, 
so,  at  some  uncertain  time,  Plato  conceived  the  design  of 
writing  a  great  trilogy,  for  which  the  ideal  state  depicted 
in  the  Republic  should  be  the  point  of  departure.  The 
L'rand  outline  there  sketched  by  Socrates  was  .now  to  be 
tilled  up  by  Critias  and  Hcrmocrates.  The  form  set  up  by 
reasoning  should  be  made  alive,  the  "airy  burghers" 
should  bo  seen  "  making  history."  As  a  prelude  to  this 
magnificent  celebration,  Timaous,  the  Pythagorean  philo- 
sopher, who  is  present  at'  the  Panathenoea,  is  invited  to 
discourse  of  the  origin  of  all  things,  and  to  bring  down  the 
glorious  theme  to  the  creation  of  man.  What  should  have 
followed  this,  but  is  only  commenced  in  the  fragment  of 
the  Critian,  would  have  been  the  story,  not  of  a  fall,  but  of 
^he  triumph  of  reason  in  humanity. 

In  tha  ■Philchus  (59  A,  comp.  62  D)  PJato  speaks  with  a 
touch  of  contempt  of  the  life-long  investigation  of  nature, 
*s  being  concerned  only  with  this  visible  universe,  and 
immersed  in  the  study  of  phenomena,  whether  past, 
l)resent,  or  to  come,  which  admit  of  no  stability  and  there- 
fore of  no  certainty.  "  These  things  have  no  absolute  first 
(jrinciple,  and  can  never  be  the  objects  of  reason  and  true 
6cience."_ 

Yet  even  this  lower  knowledge  is  there  admitted  as  an 
clement  of  that  life  which  is  the  habitation  of  the  good. 
And  there  are  not  wanting  signs  in  his  later  dialogues 
that  Plato's  imagination  had  again  been  strongly  drawn 
towards  those  physical  studies  which,  as  the  Phxdo  shows, 
liad  fascinated  him  in  youth.  That  nature  and  the  world 
(Ijroceed  "according  to  God  and  not  according  to  chance  " 
is  the  belief  of  the  Eleatic  stranger,  to  which  he  perceives 
that  Thextetus  will  bo  irresistibly  drawn  as  he  grows 
older.  In  the  midst  of  dialectical  abstractions,  the  pro- 
cesses of  actual  production  (ycvcVfis)  have  been  increas- 
ingly borne  in  mind.  And  the  myth  in  the  Politicus  turns 
on  cosmological  conceptions  which,  although  differing  from 
those  in  the  Timxus,  and  more  accordant  with  Plato's 
bitterest  mood,  yet  throw  a  new  light  on  the  deeper  current 
of  his  thoughts.  In  the  same  passage  (272  C)  there 
pccurs  the  first  '  clear  anticipation  of .  an  interrogatio 
nnturx. 

The  impulse  in  this  new  direction,  if  not  originated,  was 
rnanifestly  reinforced,  through  closer  intercourse  with  the 
Pythagorean  school.  And  the  choice  of  Tima;us  the 
Pythagorean  as  chief  .speaker  is  an  acknowledgment  of 
this  obvious  tendency.  If  in  the  course  of  the  dialogue 
there  occur  ideas  apparently  borrowed  from  the  Atomists, 
whom  Plato  persistently  ignored,  this  fact  ought  probably 
to  be  referred  to  some  early  reaction  of  Atomic  on  Pytha- 
gorean doctrine.  It  is  important  to  observe,  however,  that 
not  only  the  Timxus,  but  the  unfinished  whole  of  which 
it  forms  the  introduction,  is  professedly  an  imaginative 
creation.  For  the  legend  of  prehistoric  Athens  and  of 
Atlantis,  whereof  Critias  was  to  relate  what  belonged  to 
internal  policy  and  Hcrmocrates  the  conduct  of  the  war. 
Would  have  been  no  other  than  a  proso  poem,  a  "  mytho- 
logical lie,"  conceived  in  the  spirit  of  the  Republic,  and  in 
the  form  of-  a  fictitious  narrative.  And,  therefore,  when 
Timfeus  professes  to  give  only  a  probable  account  of 
shadowy  truths,  l.e  must  be  taken  at  his  word,  and  not 
criticized  in  too  exacting  a  spirit.  His  descriptions  have 
much  the  same  relation  to  the  natural  philosophy  of  Plato's 
time  that  Jlilton's  cosmology  has  t»  the  serious  investiga- 
tionii^Qt^GftlJlco  or  Copernicus, — except  that  all  physical 

^■■.■c  Juwctt;  Iiiti'oi.1.  to  tUi;  TiMttiti. 

10-1(1 


speculation  hitherto  partook  in  some  measure  of  this  half- 
mythological  character,  and  that  Plato's  mind,  although 
working  in  an  unfamiliar  region,  is  still  that  JjfiA.  specu-f 
lative  philosopher.  « 

As  Parmenides,  after  demonstrating  theTionentity'6l 
growth  and  decay,  was  yet  impelled  to  give  some  account 
of  this  non-existent  and  unintelligible  phenomenal  world, 
so  Plato,  although  warned  off  by  Socrates,  must  needi» 
attempt  to  give  a  probable  and  comprehensive  description 
of  the  visible  universe  and  its  creation.  In  doing  so  ha 
acknowledges  an  imperfect  truth  in  theories  which  his 
dialectic  had  previously  set  aside.  In  examining  the 
earlier  philosophers  he  has  already  transgressed  the  limita 
prescribed  by  Socrates,  and  the  effort  to  connect  ideas  has 
made  him  more  and  more  conscious  of  the  gap  between  th6 
ideal  and  the  actual.  He  cannot  rest  until  he  has  done 
his  utmost  to  fill  up  the  chasm — calling  in  the  helpj),' 
imagination  where  reason  fails  him. 

His  dominant  thought  is  still  that  of  a  deduction  from 
the  "  reason  of  the  best,"  as  in  the  Phacdo,  or  "  the  idea  of 
good,"  as  in  the  Republic.  But  both  his  abstract  idealisro 
and  his  absolute  optimism  were  by  this  time  considerably 
modified,  and,  although  not  confounding  "  causes  with  con* 
ditions,"  as  he  once  accused  Anaxagoras  of  doing,  he  yet 
assigns  more  scope  to  "  second  causes  "  than  he  would  thea 
have  been  willing  to  attribute  to  them.  This  partly  comes 
of  ripening  experience  and  a  deepening  sense  of  the  per* 
sistency  of  evil,  and  partly  from  the  feeling — which  seems 
to  have  grown  upon  him  in  later  life — of  the  distance 
between  God  and  man. 

Timaeus  begins  by  assuming  (1)  ihat  the  universe  being  corporeal 
is  caused  and  had  a  beginning,  and  (2)  that  its  mysterious  authol 
made  it  after  an  everlasting  jiatteni.'  Yet,  being  bodily  and  visible, 
it  can  only  be  made  the  subject,  liumanly  speaking,  of  probablt 
discourse. 

Thus  much  being  premised,  he  proceeds  to  unfold — (A)  the  wtfrk 
of  mind  in  creation,  (B)  the  etlects  of  necessity,  inchidinj'  the 
general  and  specific  attributes  of  bodies,  (C)  the  principles  .nj 
physiology,  and  (D)  an  outline  of  patholoOT  and  medicine. 

To  give  a  full  account  of  such  a  comprehensive  treatise  is  beyonS 
the  scope  of  this  article,  and  the  Timwus,  however  great  and 
interesting,  has  been  well  described  as  an  out-building  of  the  great 
fabric  of  orifrinal  Platonism.  A  very  few  scattered  observation! 
are  all  that  theic  is  space  for  here, 

(A)  1.  lu  the  mythology  of  the  Tlmsrus  some  of  the  conccptiom 
which  attained  logical  clearness  in  the  Sophist  and  Pldhbits  rcsums 
an  ontological  forni.  Thus,  in  compounding  the  sonl-stuflf  of  the 
universe,  the  father  of  all  takes  of  the  continuous  anol  discrete  and 
fuses  them  into  an  essence  ^the  composite  being  of  the  Philebua). 
Again  ho  takes  of  the  same  and  other  (comp.  the  Sophist),  ovoi^ 
coming  their  inherent  repugnance  by  his  sovereign  act. 

2.  The  notion  of  an  economy  or  reservation  in  Plato  has  "been 
often  e.taggerateil  and  misapplied.  liut  it  is  difficult  to'acquil 
him  of  intentional  obscurity  in  speaking  of  the  creation  of  th« 
Earth.  It  is  clear,  though  I'lato  docs  npt  .s.ay  so,  that  she  is  meant 
to  have  been  created  togetlier  with  tlie  Heaven  and  together  with 
Time,  and  so  before  the  other  "gods  within  the  heaven,"  i.e.,  the 
sun  and  moon  and  five  planets,  and  it  is  a  plausible  supposition  thai 
she  is  the  "artilicer  of  day  and  night"  by  interposing  her  bulk  to 
the  sun's  rays.  If  the  word  <i\Aa>i<'>'>i  in  p.  10  implies  motion  (a* 
Aristotle  thought  -),  it  cannot  bo,  as  Grotc  supposed,  a  motiou 
consentaneous  with  that  of  the  outer  sphere,  but  either  sonic  fai 
slower  motion,  perhaps  assumed  in  order  to  account  for  the  shiftiug 
of  the  seasons,  or  an  erjunl  retrograde  motion  which  is  supposed  tc 
neutralize  in  her  case  the  "  motion  of  the  same."  .Slie  clings  to  tU« 
centre,  as  her  natural  abode.  And  the  diurnal  motion  of  the  heavcin 
is  due  not  to  any  mechanical  force  but  to  the  soul  of  the  world 
extending  from  the  centre  to  the  poles  and  compreliending  all. 

3.  Immortality  is  in  tho'/'im/riu  dependent  on  the  will  of  (lu 
Eternal.     And  the  sublime  idea  of  cternily  is  hero  first  formulateii. 

•1.  The  phenomena  of  vision  and  hearing  bio  included  among  the 
works  of  reason,  because  the  (inal  cause  of  those  higher  senses  is  to 
give  men  perception  of  nuinber,  through  couteniplatioii  of  the 
measures  of  time. 

(B)  1.  It  has  been  commonly  said  that  the  four  elements  of  the 
7imeeiis  are  geometrical  ligures,  without  content.  "This  is  not  true. 
For  what  'purpose  does  I'luto  introduce,  "  besides  the  archetyys  aiiJ 

*  Aristotle,  however,  uses  ti\ovfittri,  a  dilTereiit  word. 


210 


PLATO 


the  created  form,  a  third  kind,  dim  and  hard  to  conceive;  a  sort  of 
limbec  or  matrix  of  creation,"  if  not  to  fill  up  the  triangles  which 
are  elements  of  elements,  and  to  be  the  vehicle  of  the  forms  com- 
pounded of  them  ?  It  has  been  supposed  that  this  "  nurse  of 
generation"  is  identical  with  "space,  and  it  cannot  be  said  that 
they  are  clearly  kept  apart  by  Plato.  But  he  had  a  distinct 
nomenclature  for  either,  and,  although  gravity  is  explained  away 
(so  that  his  molecules,  unlike  Olerk  Itaxwell's,  may  be  called 
imponderable),  yet  extension,  or  the  property  of  filling  space,  is 
sufficiently  implied. 

2.  The  difference  of  size  in  the  triangles  and  varying  sharpness 
of  their  outlines  are  ingenious  though  inadequate  expedients, 
adopted  in  order  to  account  for  qualitative  difference  and  physical 
change. 

3.  In  criticizing  the  iUusory  notion  of  up  and  down  Plato  broaches 
the  conception  of  antipodes. 

4.  More  distinctly  than  in  the  TkiUbus,  bodily  pleasure  is 
Rjxplained  by  "a  sudden  and  sensible  return  to  nature"  (comp.  Ar., 
'iiheh,  i.  11,  §  1 ;  N.  E.,  vii.  10). 

5.  Natural  philosophers  are  warned  against  experimenting  on 
the  mixture  of  colours,  which  is  a  divine  process  and  forbidden  to 
man.  / 

(C)  1.  Plato  tends  more  and  more  in  his  later  writings  to  account 
for  moral  evil  by  physical  conditions,  thus  arriving  at  the  Socratic 
principle  of  the  involuntariness  of  vice  by  a  different  road. 

Hence  in  the  Timmas  not  the  body  only  is  made  by  the  inferior 
gods,  but  they  also  create  the  lower  and  mortal  parts  of  the  human 
soul : — the  principle  of  anger  which  is  planted  in  the  breast,  within 
hearing  of  reason,  and  tliat  of  appetite  which  is  lodged  below  the 
diaphragm  like  an  animal  tied  in  a  stall,  with  the  stomach  for  a 
crib  and  the  liver  for  a  "  soothsaying  "  looking-glass  to  soothe  or 
terrify  it  when  tempted  to  break  loose. 

2.  The  brain-pan  was  left  bare  of  protecting  flesh  "  because  the 
sons  of  God  who  framed  us  deliberately  chose  for  us  a  precarious 
life  with  capability  of  reason,  in  preference  to  a  long  secure  existence 
with  bbstruction  of  thought." 

3.  The  nails  are  a  rudimentary  provision  for  the  lower  animals, 
into  which  degenerate  souls  were  afterwards  to  be  transformed. 

4.  Vegetables  have  sensation  but  not  motion. 

5.  By  way  of  illustrating  the  very  curious  account  here  given  of 
respiration,  it  is  asserted  that  what  is  commonly  thought  to  be 
the  attraction  of  the  magnet  is  really  due  to  rotatory  motion  and 
displacement. 

6.  When  the  original  particles  wear  out,  and  the  bonds  of  soul 
and  body  in  the  marrow  give  way,  the  soul  escapes  delightedly  and 
(lies  away.     This  is  the  painless  death  of  natural  decay, 

(D)  1.  The  do|iendence  of  mental  disease  on  bodily  conditions  is 
more  fully  recognized  in  the  Tiwmus  than  elsewhere  in  Plato  (con- 
trast the  Charmijes,  for  example). 

2.  He  has  also  changed  his  mind  about  the  treatment  of  disease, 
and  shows  more  respect  for  regimen  and  diet  than  in  the  Jiepublic. 
Diseases  are  a  kind  of  second  nature,  and  should  be  treated  accord- 
ingly. 

3.  It  is  also  a  remark  in  contrast  with  the  Rcpvhlie,  that  over- 
study  leads  to  head  complications,  which  physicians  ascribe  to 
chill  and  find  intractable. 

Lastly,  it  is  one  of  the  strange  irregularities  in  the  composition 
of  the  Timmvs  that  the  creation  of  woman  and  the  relation  of  the 
sexes  ^  to  each  other  are  subjects  reserved  to  the  end,  because  this  is 
the  place  given  to  the  lower  animals,  and  woman  (compare  the 
Phsedrus)  is  the  first  transmigration  from  the  form  of  man.  This 
order  is  probably  not  to  be  attributed  to  Plato's  own  thought,  but 
to  some  peculiarity  of  Pythagorean  or  Orphic  tradition. 

VIII.  The  Laws. — The  two  series  of  dialogues,  tlie 
dialectical  aud  the  imaginative, — Sophisies,  Puliticus, 
PHlosophvs, — Tiinirus,  Critins,  Iffrinccrates, — were  left 
incomplete.  For  Plato  had  concentrated  his  declining 
po(ver.=i,  in  the  evening  of  his  life,^  upon  a  different  task. 
He  was  resolved  to  leave  behind  him,  if  he  could  so  far 
overcome  the  infirmities  of  age,^  a  code  of  laws,  conceived 
in  a  spirit  of  concession,  and  such  as  he  still  hoped  that 
some  Hellenic  state  might  sanction.  The  motive  for  this 
great  work  may  be  gathered  from  the  Politints.  The 
physician  in  departing  is  to  give  a  written  prescrijition, 
adapted  as  far  as  possible  to  the  condition  of  those  from 
whom  he  goes  away.  This  is  the  second-best  course,  in 
the  absence  of  the  philosoi>her-king.  And,  as  the  Hellenic 
world  will  not  listen  to  Plato's  heroic  remedy,  he  accom- 

'  There  is  an  anticipation  of  niicrnscoiiic  observ.ition  tu  the  words 
iSpara  v-jrh  fffiiKp6Tr}Tos  Kal  aSidvKaaTa  f(^a=  spermatozoa. 
^  rifius  5"  ev  5v(r^a7$  tov  ^lov,  Ler/r/.,  vi.  770  A. 
'  iv  .  .  .  yfjpus  €TritipaTu>fj.fv  ye  joaoiiTov,  L*00-t  ^'''  "*'2  ■^- 


moaates  his  counsel  to  their  preconceptions.  He  returns 
once  more  from  abstract  discussions  to  study  the  applica- 
tion of  ideas  to  life,  and  though,  by  the  conditions  of  the 
problem,  his  course  is  "  nearer  earth  and  less  in  light,"  this 
iofig  WTiting,  which  is  said  to  have  been' posthumous,*  has  a 
peculiar  interest.  The  ripeness  of  accumulated  experience 
and  the  mellowness  of  wise  contemplation  make  up  for  tho 
loss  of  prophetic  insight  and  poetic  charm. 

The  form  of  dialogue  is  still  retained,  and  an  aged 
Athenian  is  imagined  as  discoursing  of  legislation  with  the 
Lacedemonian  Megillus  and  the  Cretan  Clinias,  who  has 
in  view  the  foundation  of  a  new  colony,  and  is  on  his  way 
with  his  two  companions  from  Cnossus  to  the  temple  and 
oracle  of  Zeus. 

Plato  now  aims  at  moderating  between  Dorian  a-nd 
Ionian  law,  freely  criticizing  both,  and  refining  on  theni 
from  a  higher  point  of  view.  "  The  praise  of  obedience, 
the  authority  assigned  to  elders,  the  prohibition  of  dovrties, 
the  enforcement  of  marriage,  the  common  meals,  the 
distribution  and  inalienability  of  land,  the  institution  of 
the  Crypteia,  the  freedom  of  bequest  to  a  favourite  son, 
the  dislike  of  city  walls — all  reflect  the  custom  of  Sparta." 
.  .  .  "  The  use  of  the  lot,  the  scrutiny  of  magistrates,  the 
monthly  courses  of  the  council,  the  pardon  of  the  forgiven 
homicide,  most  of  the  regulations  about  testaments  and 
the  guardianship  of  orphans,  the  degrees  of  consanguinity 
recognized  by  law,  correspond  to  Athenian  laws  and 
customs"  (Jowett). 

The  philosojiher's  own  thoughts  come  out  most  strongly 
■in  the  "  preludes "  to  the  laws,^  and  in  thq  regulations 
concerning  education,  marriage,  and  the  punishment  .of 
impiety  {i.e.,  1st,  atheism,  2d,  denial  of  providence,  3d 
and  worst,  immorafsuperstition).  The  difhculty  which  is 
met  in  the  Polidrus  by  the  abandonment  of  the  world  for 
a  time,  and  in  the  Timseus  by  the  lieutenancy  of  lower 
gods,  here  leads  to  the  hypothesis  of  an  evil  souL  The 
priority  of  mind  (often  before  a-sserted)  and  the  increased 
importance  attached  to  numbers  are  the  chief  indications 
of  Plato's  latest  thoughts  about  the  intelligible  world. 
But  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  higher  education 
(answering  to  Rep.,  vi.,  vii.)  is  expressly  reserved.^  Had 
Plato  written  his  own  Epmomis,  the  proportions  of  the 
whole  work  (not  then  "acephaloas")  might  have  been 
vastly  changed. 

The  severity  of  the  penalties  attached  to  the  three  forms 
of  heresy,  especially  to  the  third  and  worst  of  them,  has  led 
to  the  remark  that  Plato,  after  asserting  "  liberty  of  pro- 
phesying," had  become  intolerant  and  bigoted  in  his  old 
age.  But  the  idea  of  toleration  in  the  modern  sense  was 
never  distinctly  present  to  the  mind  of  any  ancient  philo- 
sopher. And,  if  in  the  Latus  the  lines  of  thought  have  in 
one  way  hardened,  there  are  other  ways  in  which  experience 
has  softened  them.  Plato's  "  second-best  "  constitution 
contains  a  provision,  which  was  not .  admissible  in  the 
"perfect  state,"  for  possible  changes  and  readaptations  in 
the  future.  The  power  of  self-reformation  is  hedged  round 
indeed  with  extreme  j)recautions ;  and  no  young  or  middle- 
aged  citizen  is  ever  to  hear  a  word  said  in  depreciation 
of  any  jot  or  tittle  of  the  existing  law.  But  that  it 
should  be  provided,  however  guardedly,  that  select  com- 
missioners, after  travelling  far  and  wide,  should  bring- back 
of  the  fruit  of  their  observations  for  the  consideration  of 
the  nocturnal  council,  and  that  a  power  of  constitutionally 

*  Published  by  Philippus  the  Opuntian. 

'  See  especially  iv.  716  sq.  ;  v.  727  sq.,  735  sq.  ;  vi.  766 ;  vii.  773 
s-/.,  777,  794,  SOS  s^.,  811,  817  ;  riii.  835  «iy.;  ix.  875;  x.  887  sq., 

897  sq.,  904  sq.  ■  '  ■ 

.  '  Legg.,  xii.  968  E.  (Ath.^  "  I  am  willing  to  share  with  you  the 
danger  of  stating  to  you  my  views  about  education  aud  nurture,  which 
is  the  question  coming  to  tlie  ^Hr;ace  again." 


L  A  T  O 


2U 


amending  the  laws  should  thus  be  admitted  into  the  state, 
is  sufficiently  remarkable,  when  the  would-be  finality  of 
ancient  legislation  is  considered.  Plato  even  comes  near 
to  the  reflexion  that  "  constitutions  are  not  made,  but 
grow  "  (iv.  709  A). 

Plato  in  the  Laws  desists  finally  from  impersonating 
Socrates.  But  he  is  in  some  ways  nearer  to  his  master  in 
spirit  than  when  he  composed  the  Phxdrus.  The  sympathy 
with  common  life,  the  acceptance  of  Greek  religion,  the 
deepening  humanity,  are  no  less  essentially  Socratic  than 
the  love  of  truth  which  breathes  in  every  page.  And 
some  particular  aspects  of  Socratism  reappear,  such  as  the 
question  about  courage  *  and  that  concerning  the  unity  of 
virtue.^' 

Of  the  dialogues  forming  part  of  the  "  Platonic  canon," 
and  .  not  included  in  the  preceding  survey,  the  Lesser 
Sippias,  First  Alcibiades,  and  Menexenus  are  the  most 
Platonic,  though  probably  not  Plato's.  The  Greater 
ffippias  and  the  Clilophon  are  also  admitted  to  have 
some  plausibility.  The  Secoml  Alcibiades  (on  Prayer),  the 
[lipparckus  (touching  on  Pisistratus  and  Homer),  Minos 
("de  lege"),  Epinomis,  Erastx,  2'heages,  are  generally  con- 
demned, though  most  of  them  are  very  early  forgeries  or 
Academic  exercises.*  And  the  Ariochus  (though  some- 
times prized  for  its  subject,  "  the  contempt  of  death  "), 
the  De  Justo,  De  Virtute,  Demodociis,  Sis>/phus,  Eryxias 
(a  not'Uninteresting  treatise  on  the  use  of  money),  together 
with  the  so-called  Definitions,  were  rejected  in  ancient 
iimes,  and  are  marked  as  spurious  in  the  MSS. 

Two  great  forces  are  persistent  in  Plato,  the  love  of 
truth  and  zeal  for  human  improvement.  In  the  period 
culminating  with  the  Republic,  these  two  motives,  the 
speculative  and  the  practical,  are  fused  in  one  harmonious 
«orkin§.  In  the  succeeding  period,  without  excluding 
one  another,  they  operate  with  alternate  intensity.  In  the 
varied  outcome  of  his  long  literary  career,  the  metaphysical 
'doctrine  of  ideas"  which  has  been  associated  with  Plato's 
name  underwent  many  important  changes.  Butpervauing 
Bill  of  these  there  is  the  same  constant  belief  in  the 
Bupromacy  of  reason  and  the  identity  of  truth  and  good. 
From  that  abiding  root  spring  forth  a  multitude  of  thoughts 
concerning  the  mind  and  human  thing.s,  — turning  chiefly  on 
the  principles  of  psychology,  education,  and  political  reform, 
— thoughts  which,  although  unverified,  and  often  needing 
rorrection  from  experience,  still  constitute  Plato  the  most 
Iniitful  of  philosophical  writers.  While  general  ideas  are 
powerful  for  good  or  ill,  while  abstractions  are  necessary 
to  science,  while  mankind  are  apt  to  crave  after  perfection, 
ind  ideals,  either  in  art  or  life,  have  an  acknowledged 
value,  so  long  the  renown  of  Plato  will  continue.  "  All 
philosophic  truth  is  Plato  rightly  divined  ;  all  philosophic 
Error  is-  Plato  misunderstood  " — is  the  verdict  of  one  of 
the  keenest  of  modern  metaphysicians.* 

Plato's  followers,  however,  havb  seldom  kept  the  propor- 
tions of  his  teaching."  >.  The  diverse  elements  of  his  doctrine 
have  survived  the  spirit  that  informed  them.  .  The 
Pythagorizing  mysticism  of  the  Timieus  has  been  more 
prized  than  the  subtle  and  clear  thinking  of  the  I'hesetetns. 
Logical-' inquiries  have  been-  hardened  into  a  barren 
ontology.  *■  Semi-mythical  statements  have  been  construed 
literally,  arid  mystic  fancies  perpetuated  without  the 
genuine  thought  which  underlay  them.  A  part  (and  not 
the  essential  part)  of  his  philosophy  has  been  treated  as 
the  whole.  ■  But  the  influence  of  Plato  has  extended  far 
lieyond  the  limits  of  tlie  Platonic  schools.  The  debt  of 
1 , ^ 

'  Conip.  Laches. 
'  Ac 
frotag 


'  Conip.  Protarjnras. 


'  According  to  Rclioarsohmidt,  only  iiino  dialogues  arc  genuine, — 
rolag.,  Phmtlr.,  Sijmp.,  Apnl.,  Crilo,  Phmlo,  Jlep.,  Tim.,  Leyef. 
*  ftnler,  Iiislilutea  v/ JUit'ijihi/iicf,  p,  109  (NCt.  i.,  prop.  vi.  §  12).... 


I  Aristotle  to  his  master  has  never  yet  been  luiiy  estimated: 
Zeno,  Chrysippus,  Epicurus  borrowed  from  Plato  more 
than  they  knew.  The  moral  ideal  of  Plutarch  and  that 
of  the  Roman  Stoics,  which  have  both  so  deeply  atfectej 
the  modern  world,  could  not  have  existed  without  him. 
Neopythagoreanism  was  really  a  crude  Neoplatonism.. 
And  the  Sceptics  availed  themselves  of  weapons  either 
forged  by  Plato  or  borrowed  by  him  from  the  Sophists.  A 
wholly  distinct  line  of  infiltration  is  suggested  by  the 
mention  of  Philo  and  the  Alexandrian  schools,  and  of 
Clement  and  Origen,  while  Gnostic  heresies  and  even 
Talmudic  mysticism  betray  perversions  of  the  sumo 
influence.  The  effect  of  Hellenic  thought  on  Christian 
thcologj'  and  on  the  life  of  Christendom  is  a  subject  for 
a  volume,  and  has  been  pointed  out  in  part  by  Professcil 
E.  Zeller'  and  others  (comp.  Neoplatonism).  Yet  wheo 
Plotinus  in  the  3d  century  (after  hearing  Ammonius); 
amidst  the  revival  of  religious  paganism,  founded  a  new 
spiritualistic  philosophy  upon  the  study  of  Plato  and 
Aristotle  combined,  this  return  to  the  fountain-head  had 
all  the  effect  of  novelty.  And  for  more  than  two  centuries, 
from  Plotinus  to  Proclus,  the  great  effort  to  baao  life  anew 
on  the  Platonic  wisdom  was  continued.  But  it  was  rather 
the  ghost  than  the  spirit  of  Plato  that  was  so  "unsphered." 
Instead  of  striving  to  reform  the  world,  the  Neoplatonist 
sought  after  a  retired  and  cloistered  virtue.  Instead  of 
vitalizing  science  with  fresh  thought,  he  lost  hold  of  all 
reality  in  the  contemplation  of  infinite  unity.  He  had 
some  skill  in  dealing  with  abstractions,  but  laid  a  feeble 
hold  upon  the  actual  world. 

"  Hermes  Trismegistus  "  and  "  Dionysius  Areopagita  " 
are  names  that  mark  the  continuation  of  this  influence  into 
the  Middle  Ages.  The  pseudo-Dionysius  was  translated 
by  Erigena  in  the  9th  century. 

Two  more  "  Platonic  "  revivals  have  to  be  recorded, — 
at  Florence  in  the  15th  and  at  Cambridge  in  the  17th 
century.  Both  were  enthusiastic  and  both  uncritical. 
The  translation  of  the  dialogues  into  Latin  by  Marsiglio 
Ficino  was  the  most  lasting  effect  of  the  former  movement, 
which  was  tinged  with  the  unscientific  ardour  of  the 
Renaissance.  The  i)reference  still  accorded  to  the  Timseua 
is  a  fair  indication  of  the  tendency  to  bring  fumum  ex 
ftitgore  which  probably  marrpd  the  discussions  of  the 
Florentine  Academy  concerning  the  "  chief  good."  The 
new  humanism  had  also  a  sentimental  cast,  which  was 
alien  from  Plato.  Yet  the  effect  of  this  spirit  on  art  and 
literature  was  very  great,  and  may  be  clearly  traced  not 
only  in  Italian  but  in  English  poetry. 

"  The  Cambridge  Platonists  "  have  been  described  by 
Principal  Tulloch  in  his  important  work  on  Rational  Theo- 
logy in  Enrjlarid  in  the  Mlh  Century.  Their  views  weca 
mainly  due  to  a  reaction  from  the  philosophy  of  llobbes, 
and  v.ere  at  first  suggested  as  much  by  Plotinus  as  by  Plato. 
It  is  curious  to  find  that,  just  as  Socrates  and  Ammonius 
(the  teacher  of  Plotinus)  left  no  writings,  so  Whichcoto,  tho 
founder  of  this  school,  worked  chiefly  through  convcrsatiork 
andpreaching.  His  jiupils  exercised  a  considerable  influence' 
for  good,  especially  on  English  theology  ;  and  in  as[)iralion 
if  not  in  thought  they  derived  something  from  Plato.but 
they  seem  to  have  been  incapable  of  separating  his  mean- 
ing from  that  of  his  inturpretcr.i,  and  Cudwurth,  their 
most  consistent  writer,  was  at  once  more  systematic  and 
less  scientific  than  the  Athenian  philosopher.  Tho  trans- 
lations of  Sydenham  and  Taylor  in  the  ISth  century  ami 
the  beginning  of  tho  19th  are  proofs  of  the  eoutinucd 
influence  of  Platoniam  in  England. 

The  critical  study  of  I'lato  be;jins  from  Schlciermachcr, 
who  did  good  work  as  an  interjiretcr,  and  tried  to  arrango 
tho  dialngues  in  tho  order  of  composition.  His  attemptj 
\vhich,  like  many  efforts  of  constructive  criticifcUJiWcnt  fiK 


212 


r  L  xV  — P  L  A 


beyond  possibility,  was  vitiated  "by  the  ground-fallacy  of 
supposing  that  Plato  had  from  the  first  a  complete  system 
in  his  mind  which  he  partially  and  gradually  revealed  in 
writing.  At  a  considerably  later  time  Karl  Friedrich 
Hermann,  to  whom  all  students  of  Plato  are  indebted, 
renewed  the  same  endeavour  on  the  far  more  plausible 
assumptio"  that  the  dialogues  faithfully  reflect  the  growth 
of  Plato's  mind.  But  he  also  was  too  sanguine,  and 
exaggerated  the  possibility  of  tracing  a  connexion  between 
the  outward  events  of  Plato's  life  and  the  progress  of  his 
thoughts.  '  This  great  question  of  the  order  of  the 
dialogues,  which  has  been  debated  by  numberless  writers, 
is  one  which  only  admits  of  an  approximate  solution. 
Much  confusion,  however,  has  been  obviated  by  the 
hypothesis  (first  hinted  at  by  Ueberweg,  and  since  supported 
by  the  present' writer  and  others)  that  the  Sophistes  a.nd 
Foliticus,  whose  genuineness  had  been  called  in  question 
by  Socher,  are  really  intermediate  between  the  Republic 
and  the  Laxvs.  The  allocation  of  these  dialogues,  and 
consequently  of  the  P/d/ebus,  not  only  on  grounds  of 
metaphysical  criticism,  but  also  on  philological  and  other 
evidence  of  a  more  tangible  kind,  supplies  a  point  of  view 
from  which  it  becomes  possible  to  trace  with  confidence 
the  general  outlines  of  Plato's  literary  and  philosophical 
development.  Piefiecting  at  first  in  various  aspects  the 
impressions  received  from  Socrates  he  is  gradually  touched 
■with  an  inspiration  which  becomes  his  own,  and  which 
seeks  utterance  in  half-poetical  forms.  Then  first  the 
ethical  and  by  and  bj'  the  metaphysical  interest  becomes 
predominant.  And  for  a  while  this  last  is  all  absorbing, 
as  he  confronts  the  central  problems  which  his  own  thoughts 
have  raised.  But,  again,  the  hard-won  acquisitions  of  this 
dialectical  movement  must  be  fused  anew  with  imagination 
and  applied  to  life.  And  in  a  final  effort  to  use  his 
intellectual  wealth  for  the  subvention  of  human  need  the 
great  spirit  passed  away. 

Editions — Aldine  (fol..  Vcn..l5l3);  TT.  Stcphanus  (t,flus.inTip,  1587).  Separate 
Dialogues. —  Timxits  (Or.  and  L!it.,Ch.ilciJiiis,  1579;  rrpi-.  by  Wrobel.  Lelps.,  187G). 
German  and  Dtitcfi. — Tiedcniaiin  (Zwcibiiicken,  179U87);  BckUer  {wilh  v.  11.; 
Berlin,  1816-17-23;  London,  ISJC);  Stallbaura  (crit.  e(i..Leips.,  [lS21)lSi5:  test, 
(1850]  1874;  ed.  major.  Gnilm,  118l'71  1800;  ed.  maior,  paillv  re-«lited  by  Wolilrab, 
(1.S77J  1882);  BaiterOrclli-Whikelmann  (Ziirtcli,  [1S39]  I'sSl);  Engelinann  («itll 
tJerni.  trans,  and  comm.,  [ISll]  1877);  K.  F.  Hermann  (Leips..  1851-53  and  18<jS- 
74);  Wohlrab  (see  Staltbinm,  1877);  Martin  Sclianz  (1875-81,  not  yet  completed): 
I..  F.  Heiridorf  {L]is.,  Chnim.,  Hipp.  AfaJ.,  Ph.i^dr.,  Gorg.,  Tliext.,  Crat.,  Parm., 
Eiillii/il.,  PhxJ.,  fiot.,  S''/'lt..  18112-10);  F.  Ast  {Promg..  Phxd/-.,  Goig..  Ph.-ed., 
■witli  coinm,,  1813-22).  S''/iarale  Dialogues. — SymposiuJn.  by  F.  A.  Wolf  ([17821 
1828)  and  Otto  Jalin  ([18Gt]  1875);  Repuhlic,  by  Ast  (isoi)nnd  Sclineidcr  (lismj 
1833);  PImdo,  by  Wyltcnbaeh  (1810);  Legg.  el  £piuoiiiis,  by  Ast  (Leips.,  ISH); 
Parme'tides,  by  Stallbauin  (1839);  PhUthus,  by  Stallbaum  (ISlOj;  Crilias,  by 
Sclineidcr  (Wratislaw,  1855);  riVnsfiis  (Clialcidius.  15fi9;  ivpr.  by  Wrobel,  Leips., 
1876);  and  Ooig..  by  Krohn.  English.— Tim.viis  {Gv.  tin<i  Lat.,  Canib.,  1670); 
De  rebus  dirinitdialogidehrli(Cnnih..  1673);  EiitUifd.,Gorg.  (cum  notis),  by  Routh 
(Camb..  1784);  Prolag.,bv  Wayte  (11854]  1871);  PMIebus.  by  Badham  (Lond., 
[1855]  1678)  and  Poste  (ISoO);  Tlie^el..  by  L.  Cinipbell  (Oxford.  [ISni]  1882)  and 
Kennedy  (Camb.,  1881);  />;i.«/o,  by  Geddes(ISC3)  and  Archer  Hind  (Camb.  1883); 
Euthyd..  Sjimp.,  by  Bailliam  (IS^li);  Soph.,  Polil..  by  L.  Campbell  (1867);  Ptixdrus, 
by  W.  H.  Thompson  (lS(i3) ;    Apol.,  by  W    Wagner  (Camb.,  1S69),  and  James 


r.iddell(Oxf.nd.  18771;  Obrg  .  by  W  .11.  Tliompson  (1871):  and /"iti-m.by  M»i;iiir« 
(Dublin.  1882).  Frencli — llirscliiif  mid  Sc-luicidcr  (in  Didot's  nibtiotheca  Script 
Ur.ec.,  Paris,  [1856]  1873).  Separate  Dialogues.— .Apologie  de  Socrates,  by  H. 
David  (Paris,  1866) ;  PUxdo,  by  Belin  (Paris,  1878).  Italian.— Protag.,  by  (i 
Oliva  (Florence,  1877). 

TKA^■SLATlo^3. — Latin. — itarsiJii  Ficini  cum  vita  Plalonis  (Venice,  1517;  tbi» 
is  the  basisjof  Latin  tran-latiotis  accompjinving  later  editions,  such  as  that 
of  Bekkcr,  1816-23,  said  to  have  been  revised  by  F.  A.-  Wolf,  and  that  of 
Uiischig  and  Sclnivider:  Didot.  T.iris.  [1S53]  1873).  Single  iJiatogues.—Timxue 
(Cliakidius.  1579,  and  Cambritge,  1670) ;  Gorgias  and  Apologia,  by  Leonardo 
Arclino.  German. —J.  F.  KlcuUer  (6  vols.,  Lein'go,  [1778]  1707);  Sclileiennacll  r 
(wilh  introductions.  Bei-Iin,  [1804]  1810);  Entrelmann  (wilh  text  and  COD 
mcnlary,  [1841]  1877);  J.  F.  Drescher.  Apol.,  Crit.,  Plixd..  Suiup.,  Corf., 
/'/otaj.  (Gicssen.  [1848]  1854);  Hievon.  Jluller  (wjth  introd.  by  S:e.nliuidt,  [186*1 
1873);  GeovK.  Susemihl.  Jul.  Dcutschle.  W.  S.  Teuffel,  and  Sv.  Wi.u'and  (Stull- 
gart,  [1853]  1876);  I'rantl  and  others  (Sluttgait,  [1854]  1875).  ^.i^/is/i.— Floyei 
Sydenham  ([1759]  1776)  ;  Thomiis  Taylor  (the  complete  edition,  including  tlie  nllM 
diah.gues  translated  by  Sydenham,  Lond.,  1804);  W.  Wliewell  (Plat.  Utal.  .(<n 
Eug.  Readers,  Camb..  1860,  contains  poflions  of  oiiginal  translaliim);  B.  Jowetl 
(with  introductions.  4  vols..  1871 ;  5  vols.,  Oxford,  1.S75;  see  also  Critical  \\'urks)\ 
selections  from  Jowclt  by  C.  A.  IL  Eulkey  {The  M'isdom  of  Plato,  New  York,  1876). 
Separate  Dialogue^.— Republic,  by  Spens  (Glasgow.  1763),  by  Davies  and  \'aughua 
([1852]  1866),  and  by  Jowett  (publ.  separatclv,  1881);  Symposium,  Ion.  Memxenut, 
by  Shelley  ([1822]  1840);  Philebus.  bv  Poste  ("isno)  and  F.  A.  Palcy  (1873);'  Gorgiat, 
by  Cope  (1864);  Sophistes,  and  Mend  to  69,  by  .Mackay  (i858);  Tliextelus,  by  K.  A. 
Paley(1875);  Phxdo,  by  Cope  (1875);  "Eulhyiiliro,'  "  Apolocy,"  "  Crilo,"  and 
"Phsdo,"  hy  F.  J.  Church  {The  Tiial  and  Death  of  Socrates,  London,  IS80). 
French- — .\ndrd  Dacier.  l.ts  (Euvres  de  Platon  en  Francois  (2  vols.,  Paris,  1699), 
and  ^Vorks  abridged  with  notes,  by  M.  Diicicr  (2  vols.,  3d  cd.,  London,  1678); 
Victor  Cousin,  <Euvres  Iraduiles  avee  argumens  et  no^e-i  (13  vols.,  [1822]  1840); 
Thurot,  Gi'<iw,  A.  Dacier,  Translations  sous  la  direction  de  Entile  Saissel  (ISIS), 
transl.  of  Crifo  (see  above).  7((i/jan.— Daidi  Beinbn.  Delle  opere  di  Platotn 
Iradotio  in  lingua  rulgare  (Venice,  1601);  lluggicro  Bonghi  (vols,  i.,  ii.,  Milan, 
1858);  E.  Fenai  (Padua,  1873-74).  Separate  Dialogues.— Eulhuphr..  Apol.,  Ciil„ 
Phxd.,  Tim.,  by  Seb.  Erizzo  (Venice,  1574).  Stcedish. — Translation  begita 
(Stockholm,  1S70-72). 

Lexicons. — Timxus,  ed.  Ruhnkcn  (Leips.,  [1754]  1833) ;  Wagner,  M'arterbufh' 
der  Platonischen  Philosn-'hie  (Giittingcn,  1799)  ;  Ast,  Lexicon  Platouicum  (Leips., 
[1635]  1638). 

Si-EciAL  Studies  on  the  Lakcuage  of  Plato. — Braun,  Tie  I/uperbato  Platonieo 
(Culm,  [1846-47]  1847-52);  Engelhaitlt.  De  periodorum  Platonicorum  Structura 
([18531  1864);  XI.  Sclianz,  "  Bifurcation  der  hypolheiischen  periode  nach  Platon" 
(in  Fleckeiscn's  Neue  Jahrbucher,  Leips..  1870);  anil  Riddel],  "Digest  of  the 
Platonic  ldiom^'"  in  his  edition  of  the  Apology. 

On  the  MSS.— Cornarius,  Eclog.e  (ed.  Fischer,  Leips..- 1771)  ;  F.  J.  Bait, 
Kritischer  Versuch  uber  d^n  Text  des  Platon  (Leips..  1794);  Oaisford.  Lec'ioiiea 
Platonice  (Oxford,  1820);  Bekker.  Commentaria  to  his  ed.(IS23);  .M.  Selionz, 
yovx  Commetilationes  Plalouicx  (Wiirzburc,  1S7I),  Slailien  ziir  Geschichte  dew 
Plalonisehen  Textes  (Wiiizburg,  1874),  and  Veber  den  Platonischen  Codex  des 
Marcus  Bibliothek  in  Venedig  (Leips.,  1877;.  Ac. 

LirtRART  OR  Philosophical  Criticism  on  Plato. — German  and  Dutch. — 
Slorgenslern,  Commentaria  de  Rrjiublica  (1794);  Sclilcieimaclier,  Jntrodtic 
lions  to  his  tianslation  ([1804]  1810;  see  also  Oobson);  Itiickh,  Kleine  Srhriften 
(vols.  iii..  iv.,froni  1806);  J.  a.  Grimm,  De  Epistolis  Plalonis  ([coinp.  Kai-slt-n, 
1804]  1815):  F.  Ast.  Plato's  Leben  mid  Schriften  (1816);  TrendekiibuiR.  De 
Xumeris  (1820);  Van  Heu-de,  Inilla  Philosophix  Plalouicx  (Utrecht,  [18271 
1831;  2d  cd..  Leyden.  1842);  K.  F.  Hermann.  Geschichte  n.  System  der  Plat. 
Philosophic  (Heidelberg.  1838).  aad  Dispulatio  de  reipublicx  Plalouicx  temporibtn 
(Marburg,  1839);  ZtUer,  Philosophic  der  Griechen  (vol.  ii.,  [1839]  1859);  Stein* 
Iiaidl.  introductions  to  lliernn.  Miillcr's  Ii-anslation  (1850);  Suckow,  Die  ll'issm* 
scha^tlic'ie  II.  kunsllerische  Form  der  Plntouisrhen  Schrifteii  (Berlin.  1855);  Suae* 
mill.  [)ie  genelisrhe  Enticiekelung  der  Plat.  Philosophic  (Leips.,  [1855]  1860);  K,' 
Albci  i.  Zar  DiuUktik  des  Paton  (1856);  E.  Muiik.  Die  nattitiiche  Ordnung  der 
Plat  Schrtften  (Bi-rlin.  1857);  Diilliiiccr.  in  Ihidenthiiiii  u.  Jadentiium  (l;atisbon, 
1857);  Mictielis.  Die  Philosophic  Platans  (1859);  Ccberwcg.  Platons  Srhriftea 
V.  Leben  (\'ieniia,  1861);  Sleiii.  Sieben  Diieher  zur  Geschiclile  des  Platonisniui 
(1862);  nibhin;.'.  denetische  Darstellung  (Leips..  1863-04);  L.  Speniiel.  hocratn 
u.  Platon  (186;:);  Karslen.  Couinieutalio  Critica  de  Plalonis  qiix .teruiii nr  Epistoli* 
(L'trcciit.  186t);  Schaarscliinid-,  Die  Sammluiig  der  Plat.  Schri.llrn  {\:nui\,  lsi;fi); 
E.  Alberti.  Zur  Dialektik  des  Socrates  (Giittingen.  1869);  \V.  S.  TenlTel,  C'cber- 
sicht  der  Plat.  ii((«(i(i/r  (Dis~.  7-10  (14],  18741;  Ji^y.h!..  Platonlschr  Sludicn  (iil 
cd..  1875):  A.  Krolin.  Der  Plntonische  Staat  (llallc.  187.'.).  and  Seiidschreibei* 
an  Zeller—ilie  Flat.  Frag.  (1878);  Teichiniillcr,  Literarische  Fihder  (Uiexhni. 
1881).  English.— W.  Dob-cn.  translation  uf  Schleiermaclicr'?* /«(ro(/»r(irtHj  (IS:ni); 
Grole  (186.>:  3d  ed..  1875);  Joweti,  Introductions  to  tran.slaiion  ([H75J  J8'<1); 
see  also  introd.  XaStleit  Passages  from  Plato  (Camb.,  1882) ;  S.  F.  .\Hi-)-ne."  I'lato 
and  the  Older  Academy,"  in  translation  of  Zciler  (vol.  ii.,  l.ond  .  1.^76);  P..  L. 
Xettleship.  "The  Theory  of  Educaliou  in  tlie  Rcpuldic  of  Plato."  in  /tell-'uiea 
(ed.  by  Evelyn  Abbott.  1880);  .K.  Benn,  in  liis  Greek  Phllosophirs  (1882). 
French.~Pj.vi\  Janet,  Etudes  sur  la  Diateclique  (Palis,  1800);  Jlarlin  Etudes  snr 
le  Timee  (Paris,  1841).  (L.  C.) 


PLATON,  LEVsnix  (1737-1812),  a  celebrated  Russian 
archbishop,  was  horn  at  the  village  of  Tchashnikovo,-near 
^Moscow,  in  1737,  and  was  educated  in  the  academy  of  that 
city.  On  completing  his  studies  there  in  1758  he  was 
appointed  teacher  of  rhetoric  in  the  school  connected  with 
the  monastery  of  St  Sergius,  and  about  this  time  entered 
the  priesthood.  In  1763  Catherine  invited  him  to  instruct 
iier  son  Paul  in  theology,  and  he  became  one  of  the  court 
chaplains.  Three  years  afterwards  Platon  was  appointed 
archimandrite  of  the  monastery  of  the  Trinity  (Troitzkaia 
Lavra)  near  SIoscow ;  in  1770  he  was  made  archbishop  of 
Tver,  and  finally  in  1787  archbishop  of  Moscow  and  metro- 
politan. He  died  in  1812.  Platon  was  a  brilliant  and 
learned  man,  not  only  in  the  opinion  of  his  countrymen, 
bnt'in  the  estimation  of  all  foreigners  who  made  his 
4|quaJntauce.     We  get  a  graphic  and  interesting  picture 


of  him  at  the  beginning  of  the  present   century  in  the 
travels  of  Edward  Clarke  of-  Cambridge,  who  was  iiiucli 
struck  with  his  wit  and  wide   range   of  reading.     As  a. 
preacher   he    enjoyed    great    celebrity,    one   of  the    most 
remarkable  specimens  of  his  eloquence  being  the  sermon 
jireached  at  the  coronation  of  Alexander  I.     He  was  also 
the  author  of  several  works  "wliieli   enjoyed  considerable 
reputation  in  their  time,  such  as  A  Slmrt  Course  nf  Diviniti/, 
compiled  for  the  use  of  the  emperor  Paul   when  grand- 
duke,  several  Catecfiisms,  A   ShuH  Hi'itory  of  ilir  Jiiinsiiin 
Church,  which  has  been  translated  into  Engli.sli,  and  other 
I  works.     Platon    is  altogether   a    striking   and    impDrluiit 
!  figure  in  a  very  eventful  period  of  his  country's  histmy. 
i     "PLATTXER,  Capj.  Fp.iedrich   (1 800-1  ^^58),  a  famous 
i  scientific  metallurgist,  was   born  in  Kleinwaltersdorf,  no;if' 
;  Freiberg  in   Saxony,   on  the  2d  January   1800,  and  died' 


r  "L  A  — P  L  A 


213 


In  the  latter  town  on  the  22d  January  1S58.  Planner's 
father,  though  only  a  poor  working  miner,  found  the 
means  for  having  his  son  educated  first  at  the  "  Berg- 
echule "  and  then  at  the  "  Bergakademie  "  of  Freiberg. 
After  having  completed  his  curriculum  there  in  1820,  he 
obtained  a  position  in  connexion  with  the  royal  mines 
&.nd  metal  works,  and  was  employed  chiefly  as  an  assayer, 
in  which  capacity  he  soon  became  conspicuous  by  his 
rare  exactness  and  circumspection,  and  his  constant  striving' 
after  scientific  advancement. 

The  mouth-blowpipe,  after  doing  service  for  centuries 
lo  metal-workers  as  a  soldering  tool  (hence  the  German 
name  Lothrohr),  in  the  hands  of  Gahn  and  subsequently  of 
Berzelius  became  the  most  useful  of  instruments  for  the 
qualitative  testing  of  mineral  substances.  Through  the 
Efforts  of  the  latter,  in  fact,  blowpipe  analysis  had  developed 
into  almost  an  independent  branch  of  analysis.  But  nobody 
dreamt  of  quantitative  mouth-blowpipe  assaying  until 
Harkort  in  1827  (while  a  student  in  the  Freiberg  academy) 
succeeded  in  working  out  a  blowpipe-assay  for  silver. 
Harkort  stopped  there ;  but  the  idea  of  blowpipe-assaying 
was  taken  up  subsequently  by  Plattner,  who,  by  bringing 
his  characteristic  thoroughness,  indefatigability,  and  unex- 
ampled dexterity  to  bear  on  the  subject,  succeeded  in 
working  out  reliable  methods  for  all  the  ordinary  useful 
metals.  His  modes  of  assaying  for  cobalt  and  nickel  more 
especially  quickly  found  favour  with  metallurgists,  because 
they  were  more  exact  than  the  tlien  known  corresponding 
methods  of  "  wet-way"  analysis,  and  required  a  less  number 
of  hours  than  the  latter  required  of  days  for  their  execu- 
tion. Our  analytical  methods  for  the  determination  of 
cobalt  have  since  become  far  more  perfect  but  no  less 
troublesome,  and  to  the  present  day  Plattner's  nickel-assay 
is  the  most  precise  method  for  the  estimation  of  this  metal 
in  complex  mixtures. 

Plattner,  while  working  at  this  specialty  of  his  own,  at 
the  same  time  overhauled  the  entire  field  of  qualitative 
blowpipe  assaying,  and  ultimately  summed  up  the  whole 
of  his  vast  experience  in  his  Probirkunst  mit  dem  Lothrohr, 
which  soon  became,  and  to  the  present  day  ranks  as,  the 
standard  book  on  the  subject.  Since  its  first  publication 
in  1835  the  work  has  gone  through  four  editions,  apart 
from  two  independent  English  translations. 

With  all  his  high  and  recognized  distinction  in  his  own 
Bpecialty,  Plattner  most  keenly  felt  that  his  scientific 
education  in  Freiberg  had  been  somewhat  one-sided ;  and 
in  18.39  he  left  his  post  and  family  to  work  for  a  year  in 
Hcinrich  Piose's  laboratory  in  Berlin,  and  supplement  his 
knowledge  of  modern  methods  of  chemical  analysis. 
While  there  as  a  student  he  at  the  same  time  acted  as  a 
teacher  in  his  branch,  and  won  the  lasting  friendship  of  a 
number  of  distinguished  scientific  men.  On  his  return 
home  in  1840  ho  was  raised  to  tlifi  rank  of  assessor  at  the 
Government  board  of  mining  and  metallurgy,  and  made 
chief  of  the  royal  department  of  assaying.  In  1842  ho 
was  deputed  to  complete  a  course  of  lectures  on  metallurgy 
in  the  Bergakademie  which  had  been  commenced  by 
Lampadius  ;  and  he  subsequently  became  Lampadius's  suc- 
cessor as  professor  of  that  branch,  and  for  the  then  newly 
instituted  course  of  blowpipe-assaying.  In  addition  to 
these  functions  he  instituted,  in  1851,  a  special  course  on 
the  metallurgy  of  iron.  He  -continued  lecturing  in  the 
academy  as  long  as  ho  was  able,— until  the  session  of 
1856-57.  It  was  during  this  period  of  professorial 
activity  that  he  made  the  extensive  studies  and  experi- 
mental researches  w'hich  form  the  basis  of  his  work 
Die  metallurgischen  Roatprocesse  theoretisch  belrachlet 
(Freiberg,  185G).  His  well-known  Vorhsungen  tiler 
nll(/emeine  Iliittevkunrh  (vol.  i.  and  ii.,  Freiberg,  18G0)  is 
»  DOsthumous  publication  edited  by  Prof.  Thomas  Ricbter. 


in  addition  to  these  great  works  (and  the  Prolirhmsf) 
Plattner  published  (in  Erdmann's  Journal  and  in  8dnoeig- 
ger's  Journal  and  elsewhere)  numerous  memoirs  on  metal- 
lurgical or  mineralogical  subjects,  regarding  which  we 
must  confine  ourselves  to  saying  that  they  mark  him  as 
an  investigator  of  rare  diligence  and  power.  How  he 
found  time  for  all  his  original  work  is  difficult  to  say ; 
it  certainly  did  not  cause  him  to  neglect  his  students. 
He  attended  to  them  in  the  most  conscientious  and  effi- 
cient manner,  as  hundreds  of  his  pupils  all  over  the  world 
can  testify.  His  marked  success  as  a  teacher  was  no 
doubt  owing  greatly  to  his  high  personal  qualities, — his 
cheerful,  untiring,  unselfish  devotion  to  duty,  his  kind- 
liness of  heart  and  manner,  his  freedom  from  all  rant  and 
morbid  ambition.  The  latter  years  of  his  life  were 
embittered  by  intense  suffering.  After  a  long  period  of 
lingering  illness  he  succumbed  to  a  disease  of  the  brain. 

PLATTSBURGH,  a  viUage  and  township  of  the  United 
States,  the  shire-town  of  Clinton  county,  New  York,  and 
the  port  of  entry  of  Champlain  customs  district,  lies  on 
the  west  side  of  Lake  Champlain  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Saranac.  By  rail  it  is  168  miles  north  of  Albany  and  73 
south-south-east  of  Montreal  (Canada).  A  branch  line  runs 
20  miles  south-west  to  Au  Sable  and  forms  a  favourite 
route  to  the  Adirondacks,  and  the  Chateaugay  Railroad  runs 
34  miles  west  by  north  to  Lyon  Mountain,  where  there  are 
extensive  iron  mines.  Plattsburgh  contains  county  build- 
ings and  court-house,  a  custom-hou^u,  a  high  school,  and 
a  small  public  library.  It  has  nail  and  waggon  factories, 
flour-mills,  saw-mills,  an  iron  furnace,  machine  shops,  and 
a  large  sewing-machine  manufactory.  It  is  a  garrison  town 
of  the  United  States  army,  with  extensive  barracks  about 
a  mile  south  of  the  village.  The  value  of  the  imports  and 
exports  of  the  district  for  the  year  ending  June  30th  1884 
was  $3,169,780  and  $1,319,422  ;  and  1279  vessels  entered 
from  Canada,  while  1179  cleared.  The  aggregate  burthen 
of  the  vessels  belonging  to  the  district  was  57,477  tons^ 
In  1870  the  township  had  8414  inhabitants,  the  village 
5139  ;  in  1880  the  figures  were  8283  and  5245. 

Plattsburgh  dates  from  1785.  It  has  twice  been  destroyed  by  fire 
(1849  and  1867).  In  1812  it  became  the  hcadriuarters  of  the  L'.S. 
army  on  the  northern  frontier;  and  in  Suptcmber  1814  it  was 
renilered  famous  through  the  capture  of  the  liritish  flotilla  under 
Commodore  Downie  by  the  Uiiittd  States  flotilla  under  Commodore 
Macdonougb,  and  the  con'iequent  retreat  across  the  Saranac  of  Sir 
George  Prevost,  who  had  been  attacking  the  village  with  a  powerful 
army.  Downie  and  fifteen  other  oflicers  of  the  contending  forces  aro 
buiiod  in  Plattsburgh  cemetery. 

PLATYHEL5IINTHES.  See  Planarians  and  Tape- 
worms. 

PLATYPUS.  The  Duck-billed  Platypus  {Platypus 
anatitms)  was  the  name  assigned  to  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  of  known  animals  by  Shaw,  who  had  the  good 
fortune  to  introduce  it  to  the  notice  of  the  scientific  world 
in  the  Naturalist's  Miscellany  (vol.  x.,  1799).  In  the  fol- 
lowing year  it  was  independently  described  by  Blumenbac^ 
{Voigis  Magazin,  ii.  p.  205)  under  the  name  of  Ornitho^ 
rhynchus  paradoxus.  Shaw's  generic  name,  although 
having  priority  to  that  of  Blumonbach,  could  not  be 
retained,  as  it  had  been  used  at  a  still  earlier  time  (1793) 
by  Herbst  for  a  genus  of  Coleoptera.  Ornithnrhynrhus  is 
therefore  now  universally  adopted  as  the  scientific  designa- 
tion, although  Duck-billed  Platypus  may  bo  conveniently 
retained  as  a  vernacular  appellation.  By  the  colonists  it 
is  called  "Water-Mole,"  but  its  affinities  with  the  true 
moles  are  of  the  slightest  and  most  superficial  description. 

The  anatomical  differences  by  which  the  plotypus,  and 
its  only  ally  the  echidna,  aro  separated  from  all  other 
mammals,  so  as  to  form  a  distinct  subclass  with  relation- 
ship to  the  inferior  vcrtebroted  classes,  have  been  de8cribcd| 
in  the  article  Mammalia  (vol  xv.  pp.  371  and  377),  wher^ 


»214 


PLATYPUS 


also  will  be  found  the  main  distinctive  cliaracters  of  the 
two  existing  representatives  of  the  group.  It  is  there 
stated  that  the  early  stages  of  the  development  of  the 
young  are  not  yet  fully  known  ;  in  fact  this  was  till  very 
recently  one  of  the  most  interesting  problems  in  zoology  to 
La  solved.  It  has  bo^n  repeatedly  affirmed,  in  some  cases 
by  persons  wlro  have  had  actual  opportunities  of  observa- 
tion, that  the  platypus  lays  eggs;  but  these  statements  have 
been  generally  received  with  scepticism  and  even  denial. 
This  much-vexed  question  has,  however,  been  settled 
by  the  researches  of  Mr  W.  H.  Caldwell  (1884),  who  has 
found  that  these  animals,  although  undoubtedly  mammals 
throughout  the  greater  part  of  their  structure,  are  ovipar- 
ous, laying  eggs,  which  in  the  manner  of  their  development 
bear  a  close  resemblance  to  the  development  of  those  of  the 
[ReptUia.  Two  eggs  are  produced  at  a  time,  each  measuring 
about  three-fourths  of  an  inch  in  its  long  and  half  an  inch  in 
its  short  axis,  and  enclosed  in  a  strong,  flexible,  white  shell. 
The  platypus  is  pretty  geiierally  distributed  in  situa- 
^tions  suitable  to  its  aquatic  habits  throughout  the  island 
of  Tasmania  and  the  southern  and  eastern  portions  of 
Australia.  Slight  variations  in  the  colouring  and  size  of 
different  individuals  have  given  rise  to  the  idea  that  .more 


Platypus.     From  Gould's  Mammah  of  Australia, 

t^an  one  species  may  exist ;  but  all  naturalists  who  haVe] 
had  the  opportunity  of  investigating  this  question  by  the 
aid  of  a  good  series  of  specimens  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  there  is  but  one;  and  no  traces  of  any  extinct 
allied  forms  have  yet  been  discovered. 

The  length  of  the  animal  when  full  grown  is  from  18 
to  20  inches  from  the  extremity  of  the  beak  to  the  end  of 
the  tail,  the  male  being  slightly  larger  than  the  female. 
The  fur  is  short,  dense,  and  rather-  soft  to  the  touch,  and 
composed  of  an  extremely  fine  and  close  under-fur,  and  of 
longer  hairs  which  project  beyond  this,  each  of  which 
is  very  slender  at  the  base,  and  expanded,  flattened,  and 
glossy  towards  the  free  end.  The  general  colour  is  deep 
brown,  but  paler  on  the  under  parts.  The  tail  is  short, 
broad,  and  depressed,  and  covered  with  coarse  hairs,  which 
in  old  animals  generally  become  worn  off  from  the  under 
surface.     The  eyes  are  small  and  brown.     There  is  no  pro- 

Ejting  pinna  or  ear-conch.  The  mouth,  as  is  well  known, 
ars  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  bill  of  a-  duck.  It  is 
vered  with  a  naked  skin,  a  strong  fold  of  which  projects 
outwards  around  its  base  The  nostrils  are  situated  near 
the  extremity  of  the  upper  surface.  There  are  no  true 
teeth,  but  their  purposes  are  served  bjjiorny  prominences, 


two  on  each  side  of  each  jaw, — those  in  the  front  narrow, 
longitudinal,  sharp-edged  ridges,  and  those  behind  broad, 
flattened,  and  molariform.  The  upper  surface  of  the 
lateral  edges  of  the  mandible  has  also  a  number  of  parallel 
fine  transverse  ridges,  like  those  on  the  bill  of  a  duck.  In 
the  cheeks  are  tolerably  capacious  pouches,  which  appear 
to  be  used  as  receptacles  for  food. 

The  limbs  are  strong  and  very  short,  each  with  five  well- 
developed  toes  provided  with  strong  claws.  In  the  fore 
feet  the  web  not  only  fills  the  interspaces  between  the 
toes,  but  extends  considerably  beyond  the  ends  of  the 
long,  broad,  and  somewhat  flattened  nails,  giving  great 
expanse  to  the  foot  when  used  for  swimming,  though 
capable  of  being  folded  back  on  the  palm  when  the 
animal  is  burrowing  or  walking  on  the  land.  On  the  hind 
foot  the  nails  are  long,  curved,  and-  pointed,  and  the  web 
extends  only  to  their  base.  On  the  heel  of  the  male  is  a 
strong,  curved,  sharply  pointed,  movable  horny  spur, 
directed  upwards  and  backwards,  attached  by  its  expanded 
base  to  the  accessory  bone  of  the  tarsus.  This  spur, 
which  attains  the  length  of  nearly  an  inch,  is  traversed  by 
a  minute  canal,  terminating  in  a  fine  longitudinal  slit 
near  the  point,  and  connected  at  its  base  with  the  duct 
of  a  large  gland  situated  at  the  back  part  of  the  thigh. 
The  whole  apparatus  is  so  exactly  analogous  in  structure 
to  the  poison  gland  and  tooth  of  a  venomous  snake 
as  to  suggest  a  similar  function,  but  evidence  that  the 
platypus  ever  employs  its  spur  as  an  offensive  weapon 
has,  at  all  events  until  lately,  been  wanting.  A  case  is, 
however,  related  by  Mr  Spicer  in  the  Proceedings  of  the 
Royal  Society  of  Tasmania  for  1876  (p.  162)  of  a  captured 
platypus  inflicting  a  severe  wound  by  a  powerful  lateral 
and  inward  movement  of  the  hind  legs,  which  wound  was 
followed  by  symptoms  of  active  local  poisoning.  It  is  not 
improbable  that  both  the  inclination  to  use  the  weapon 
and  the  activity  of  the  secretion  of  the  gland  may  be 
limited  to  the  breeding  season,  and  that  their  purpose  may 
be,  like  that  of  the  antlers  of  deer  and  many  similai 
organs,  for  combat  among  the  males.  In  the  young  of 
both  sexes  the  spur  is  present  in  a  rudimentary  condition, 
but  it  disappears  in  the  adult  females. 
'  The  platypus  is  aquatic  in  its  habits,  passing  most  of 
its  time  in  the  water  or  close  to  the  margin  of  lakes  and 
streams,  swimming  and  diving  with  the  greatest  ease,  and 
forming  for  the  purpose  of  sleeping  and  breeding  deep 
burrows  in  the  banks,  which  generally  have  two  orifices, 
one  just  above  the  water  level,  concealed  among  long 
grasses  and  leaves,  and  the  other  below  the  surface.  The 
passage  at  first  runs  obliquely  upwards  in  the  bank,  some- 
times to  a  distance  of  as  much  as  50  feet,  and  expands  at 
its  termination  into  a  cavity,  the  floor  of  which  is  lined 
with  dried  grass  and  leaves,  and  in  which  the  eggs  are 
laid  and  the  young  brought  up.  Their  food  consists  of 
aquatic  insects,  small  crustaceans,  and  worms,  which  are 
caught  under  water,  the  sand  and  small  stones  at  the 
bottom  being  turned  over  with  their' bills  to  find  them^ 
They  appear  at  first  to  deposit  what  they  have  thus  col- 
lected in  their  cheek  pouches,  and  when  these  are  filled 
they  rise  to  the  surface  and  quietly  triturate  their  meal 
with  the  borpy  teeth  before  swallowing  it.  Swimming 
is  effected  chieHv  by  the  action  of  the  broad  forepaws,- 
the  hind  feet  and  tail  taking  little  share  ia  locomotion 
in  the  water.  When  asleep  they  roll  themselves  into 
a 'ball,  as  shown  in  the  figure,  in  their  native  haunts 
they  are  .extremely  timid  and  wary,  and  vfei*7  difficult  to 
approach,  being  rarely  seen  out  of  their  burrows  \ii  the 
daytime.  Mr  A.  B.  Crowther,  who  has  supplemented  the 
often  quoted  observations  of  Dr  George  Bennett  upon  the 
habits  of  these  animals  in  confinement,  says,  "  They  soon 
become  very  tame  in  captivity ;  in  a  few  days  the  jfouns 


P  L  A  — P  L  A 


21  ^ 


ones  appeared  to  recognize  a  call,  swimming  rapidly  to 
the  hand  paddling  the  water  ;  and  it  is  curious  to  see  their 
attempts  to  procure  a  worm  enclosed  in  the  hand,  which 
bhey  greedily  take  when  offered  to  them.  I  have  noticed 
tliat  they  appear  to  be  able  to  smell  whether  or  not  a 
worm  is  contained  in  the  closed  hand  to  vhich  they  swim, 
tor  they  desisted  from  their  efforts  if  an  empty  fist  was 
offered."  When  irritated  they  utter  a  soft  low  growl,  re- 
sembling that  of  a  puppj-".  (w.  h.  F.) 

PLADEN,  a  busy  manufacturing  town  of  Saxony,  in  the 
government  district  of  Zwickau,  is  situated  on  the  Elster, 
60  miles  to  the  south  of  Leipsic.  It  was  formerly  the 
capital  of  the  Voigtland,  a  territory  governed  directly  by 
the  imperial  voigts  or  bailiffs,  and  this  name  still  clings 
in  popular  speech  to  the  hilly  manufacturing  district  in 
which  it  lies.  The  most  prominent  buildings  are  the  fine 
Gothic  church  of  St  John,  the  town-house  (about  1550), 
the  new  post-office,  and  the  loftily-situated  old  castle  of 
Hradschin,  now  occupied  by  a  law  court.  Plauen  is  now 
the  chief  place  in  Germany  for  the  manufacture  of  em- 
broidered white  goods  of  all  kinds,  and  for  the  finishing  of 
■woven  cotton  fabrics.  Dyeing,  tanning,  bleaching,  and 
the  making  of  paper  and  machinery  are  also  prosecuted  ; 
and  an  active  trade  is  carried  on  in  these  various  industrial 
products.  In  1880  the  town  contained  35,078  inhabitaAts 
and  in  1884  above  40,000,  almost  all  Protest?." *-• 

As  indicated  by  tne  name  oT  tlie  casfle,  Plauen  was  proBably 
founded  by  the  Slavs,  after  whose  e.xpulsion  it  was  goveint'd  directly 
by  the  imiierial  baililfs.  In  1827  it  became  a  Bolieniian  fief,  but 
X>asscd  ii}to  tlie  possession  of  Saxony  in  1166  and  remained  per- 
manently united  to  it  from  1569  onwards.  The  manufacture  of 
white  goods  was  introduced  by  Swabian  or  Swiss  immigrants  about 
1570,  and  since  then  the  prosperity  of  the  town  has  been  great, 
in  spite  of  the  storms  of  tlio  Thirty  Years'  and  Seven  Years'  Wars. 
The  advance  of  Plauen  has  been  especially  rapid  since  its  incor- 
poration in  the  ZoUverein. 

PLAUTUS,  T.  Maocius,  was  the  greatest  comic  and 
dramatic  genius  of  Rome,  and 'still  ranks  among  the 
great  comic  dramatists  of  the  world.  While  the  other 
creators  of  Roman  literature,  Naevius,  Ennius,  Lucilius,  &c., 
are  known  to  us  only  in  fragments,  we  still  possess  twenty 
plays  of  Plautus.  A  few  of  them  are  incomplete,  and  in 
fome  cases  they  show  traces  of  later  interpolations,  but 
they  have  reached  us  in  the  main  as  they  were  written  by 
him  in  the  end  of  the  3d  and  the  beginning  of  the  2d  cen- 
tury B.C. '  At  the  date  of  his  birth  Roman  literature  may  be 
said  to  have  been  non  existent.  When  he  died  the  Latin 
language  had  developed  its  full  capacities  as  an  organ  of 
social  intercourse  and  familiar  speech,  and  the  litera- 
ture of  the  world  had  been  enriched  by  a  large  number  of 
adaptations  from  the  New  Comedy  of  Athens,  animated  by 
the  new  life  of  ancicut  Italy  and  vivified  by  the  genius 
and  robust  human  nature  of  their  author ;  and  those 
have  been  the  chief  means  of  transmitting  the  traditions 
of  the  ancient  drama  to  modern  times.  The  maturity 
which  comedy  attained  in  a  single  generation  affords  a 
remarkable  contrast  to  the  slow  processes  by  which  tho 
higher  forms  of  Roman  poetical  and  prose  literature  were 
brought  to  perfection.  It  may  bo  explained  partly  by  tho 
existence,  for  some  generations  before  the  formal  begin- 
ning of  literature  at  Rome,  of  the  dramatic  and  musical 
medleys  ("saturM  impletai  modis")  wliich  in  their  allu- 
sions to  current  events  and  their  spirit  of  banter  must 
have  had  a  considerable  affinity  with  tho  dialogue  of 
Plautus,  and  partly  to  the  diffusion  of  the  Latin  language, 
as  the  organ  of  practical  business  among  the  urban  com- 
munities of  Italy.  But  much  also  was  due  to  tho  indivi- 
dual genius  and  the  command  over  their  native  idiom 
possessed  by  the  two  oldest  of  the  genuine  creators  of 
Roman  literature,  Nievius  and  Plautus. 
.  A  question  might  be  raised  aa  to  whether  Plautus  or 


his  younger  contemporary  Ennius  was  the  most  charactei 
istic  representative  of  the  national  literature  of  their  time; 
Ennius  certainly  exercised  a  much  more  important  influ- 
ence on  its  subsequent  development.  He  arrested  tho 
tendency  imparted  to  that  development  by  Ka2vius  and 
Plautus.  He  made  literature  the  organ  of  the  serious 
spirit  and  imperial  ambition  of  the  Roman  aristocracy, 
while  the  genius  of  Plautus  appealed  to  the  taste  and 
temperament  of  the  mass  of  the  people,  at  a  time  when 
they  were  animated  by  the  spirit  of  enjoyment  and  com- 
paratively indifferent  to  political  questions.  The  ascend- 
ency of  the  aristocracy  in  public  affairs  for  two  generations 
after  the  end  of  the  Second  Punic  War  determined  the 
ascendency  of  Ennius  in  Roman  literature  ;  and  it  may  be 
admitted  that,  if  the  genius  of  Plautus  and  of  Ennius  could 
not  work  harmoniously  together,  it  was  best  that  that  of 
the  younger  poet,  as  representative  of  the  truer  genius  of 
Rome,  should  prevail.  The  popularity  of  Plautus  was 
greatest  in  his  own  time  and  in  the  generation  succeeding 
him,  but  his  plays  still  continued  to  be  acted  with 
applause  till  the  age  of  Cicero,  and  he  was  greatly  admired 
both  by  Cicero  and  by  the  man  among  his  contemporaries 
who,  both  from  his  learning  and  taste,  retained  most  of  the 
antique  spirit,  Varro.  The  literary  taste  of  the  Augustan 
age  and  of  the  first  century  of  the  empire  was  adverse  to 
him  ;  but  the  archaic  revival  in  the  latter  part  of  the  2d 
century  of  our  era  brought  him  again  into  favour,  with  the 
result  of  securing  the  preservation  of  his  works  through 
mediaeval  times  and  their  revival  with  great  acceptance  at 
the  Renaissance.  That  his  original  popularity  was  due  to 
genuine  gifts  of  humour  and  genuine  power  in  represent- 
ing human  life  is  clear  from  their  reception  by  a  world  so 
much  altered  from  that  in  which  he  himself  had  played 
his  part.  And  if  his  influence  was  not  felt  like  that 
of  Ennius  in  determining  the  form  and  spirit  of  the  litera- 
ture of  his  country,  it  was  not  without  effect  on  the  two 
greatest  dramatists  of  modern  times,  Shakespeare  and 
Molifere. 

The' few  facts  known  of  his  life  rest  on  the  authority  of 
Cicero,  of  Aulus  Gellius,  and  of  Jerome  in  his  continuation 
of  the,Eusebian  Chronitk.  He  was  born  in  the  earlier 
half  of  the  3d  century  B.C.,  and  died  at  an  advanced  age  in 
the  year  184  B.C.  He  was  a  native  of  Sarsina  in  Umbria.' 
His  first  employment  was  in  some  way  connected  with  the 
stage  "  in  operis  artificum  scenicorum."  He  saved  money 
in  this  employment,  engaged  in  foreign  trade,  and  return- 
ing to  Rome  in  absolute  poverty  was  reduced  to  work  as  a 
hired  servant  in  a  mill ;  and  then  for  the  first  time  ho 
began  to  write  comedies.  The  earliest  allusion  to  any 
contemporary  event  which  wo  find  in  any  of  his  plays  is 
that  in  tho  Miles  Gloriosus  (1.  212-3)  to  the  imprisonment 
of  Neevius,  which  happened  about  the  )-ear  207  B.C.  Tho 
Cistellaria  and  Slichus  were  apparently  written  immcdi-' 
atoly  after  the  end  of  the  Second  Punic  War.  The  last 
ten  years  of  his  life  were  the  most  productive,  and  tho 
greater  number  of  his  extant  comedies  belong  to  that 
period.  They  do  not  seem  to  havo  been  published  as 
literary  works  during  his  lifetime,  but  to  havo  been  left 
in  possession  of  the  players,  to  whom  the  interpolations 
and  some  other  unimjtortant  changes  arc  to  be  ascribed. 
The  prologues  to  tho  I'lays,  with  three  or  four  exceptions,' 
belong  to  the  generation  after  his  death.  In  a  later  ago 
the  pJays  of  many  contemporary  playwrights  were  attri- 
buted to  him.  Twcntyono  were  accepted  by  Varro  aa 
undoubtedly  genuine,  and  of  these  wo  possess  twenty 
nearly  complete,  and  fragments  of  anotlicr,  the  Vidularia! 
Other  nineteen  Varro  regarded  oa  probably  genuine,  anj 
the  titles  of  some  of  them,  e.g.,  Salurio,  Addidns,  Com- 
morientes,  are  also  known  to  us. 

Wo  get  the  impression  from  his  works  and  from  aneieut 


210" 


P  I..A  U  T  U  S 


criticisms -on  them"  that  he  was,  in  his  latter  years,  a 
i-apid  and  productive  writer,  more  concerned  _  with  the 
immediate  success  of  his  works  than  with  their  literary 
perfection.!  Yet  he  shows  that  he  took  pride  and  ple,isure 
in  his  art  (Bacch.,  214),  and  Cicero  testifies  especially  to 
the  gratificati.on  which  he  derived  from  two  works  of  his 
old  age,  the  Psetidoiiis  and  Trucukntus  (De  Seiuc,  li). 
We  get  further  the  impression  of  a  man  of  strong  animal 
spirits  and  of  large  intercourse  with  the  world,  especially 
with  the  trading  and  middle  classes.  We  find  rio  indication 
of  familiarity  with  the  manners,  tastes,  or  ideas  of  the 
governing  aristocracy.  The  story  told  of  his  unsuccessful 
inercantile  speculations  might  seem  to  derive  confirmation 
from  the  "  flavour  of  the  sea  "  and  the  spirit  of  adventure 
present  in  many  of  his  plays,  from  his  frequent  colloquial 
use  of  Greek  phrases,  and  from  indications  of  familiarity 
fwith  the  sights,  manners,  and  pleasures  of  the  Greek  cities 
ion  the  Mediterranean.  He  has  many  allusions  to  works 
»f  art,  to  the  stories  of  Greek  mythology,  and  to  the  sub- 
jects of  Greek  tragedies  ;  and  he  tried  to  enrich  the  native 
■voeahulary  with  a  ccmsiderable  number  of  Greek  words 
which  did  not  maintain  their  place  in  the  language.  The 
knowledge  of  these  subjects  which  he  betrays,  and  his 
copious  use  of  Greek  words  and  phrases,  seem  to  be  the 
result  rather  of  active  and  varied  intercourse  with  contem- 
Jiorary  Greeks  than  of  the  study  of  books. 
i  Like  all  the  old  Eoman  dramatists,  he  borrows  his  plots, 
incidents,  scaines,  characters,  and  probably  the  outlines  of 
]his  dialogue  from  the  authors  of  the  new  comedy  of 
Athens, — Diphilus,  Philemon,  Menander,  and  others.  But 
he  treated  his  borrowed  materials  with  much  more  freedom 
tind  originality  than  the  only  other  dramatist  of  whom 
\ve  possess  complete  pieces — Terence.  A  note  of  this  dif- 
ference appears  in  the  fact  that  the  titles  of  all  the  plays 
of  Terence  are  Greek,  while  those  of  Plautus  are  nearly 
all  Latin.  We  find  a  much  greater  range  and  variety 
In  the  scenes  and  incidents  introduced  by  Plautus,  and 
>uuch  greater  divergence  from  a  conventional  type  in  bb 
characters.  But  it  is  especially  on  his  dialogue  and 
Ijis  metrical  soliloquies  that  his  originality  is  stamped. 
Though  all  the  personages  of  his  plays  are  supposed  to  be 
Greeks,  living  in  tJreek  towns,  they  constantly  speak  as  if 
they  were  Eomans  living  in  the  heart  of  Rome.  Frequent 
mention  is  made  of  towns  in  Italy,  of  streets,  gates,  and 
markets  in  Rome  itself,  of  Roman  magistrates  and  of 
^heir  duties,  of  the  business  of  the  law-courts,  the  comitia, 
and  the  senate,  ire.  We  constantly  meet  with  Roman 
formulre,  expressions  of  courtesy,  proverbs,  and  the  like. 
While  avoiding  all  direct  reference  to  politics,  he  fre- 
quently alludes  to  recent  events  in  Roman  history,  and  to 
Jaws  of  recent  enactment.  Although  he  maintains  and 
Beems  to  inculcate  an  attitude  of  political  indifference,  he 
is  not  altogether  indifferent  to  social  conditions,  and  in 
juore  than  one  of  his  plays  comments  on  the  growing 
estrangement  between  the  rich  and  poor,  as  an  element  of 
ganger  to  the  state.  Still  he  writes  neither  as  a  political 
por  as  a  social  satirist,  but  simply  with  the  wish  to  represent 
the  humours  of  human  life  and  to  amuse  the  people  in 
their  holiday  mood. 

His  independence  of  his  originals,  in  regard  to  expres- 
kion,  is  further  shown  by  the  puns  and  plays  on  words, 
the  alliterations,  assonances,  &c.,'  which  do  not  admit  of 
being  reproduced  in  translation  from  one  language  to 
another ;  in  the  metaphors  taken  from  Roman  military 
operations,  business  transactions,  and  the  trade  of  various 
irtisans ;  and  in  his  profuse  use  of  term.s  of  endearment 
find  vituperation,  characteristic  of  the  vivacity  of  the 
Italian  temperament  in  modern  as  in  ancient  times.  But 
in  nothing  is  his  difference  from  Terence,   and  presum- 

'•"Securus  cadat  au  recto  stet  fa'bula  talo."— Hor.  £/>.  u.  J,  17o. 


ably  from  the  originals  which  they  both  followed,  mors 
decided  than  in  his  large  use  of  lyrical  monologue,  or 
"  cantica,"  alternating  with  the  ordinary  dialogue  in  much 
the  same  way  as  the  choral  odes  do  in  the  old  Greek 
comedy.  These  one  may  conjecture  to  have  been  a  partial 
survival  of  passages  in  the  old  dramatic  saturx,  which 
were  repeated  to  a  musical  accompaniment.  In  the 
naivete  of  the  reflexions  which  they  contain,  and  the  pro. 
lixity  with  which  the  thought  is  worked  out,  we  recognize 
the  earliest  effort  of  the  Roman  mind  applied  to  reflexion 
on  life,  and  no  reproduction  of  any  phase  of  the  Greek 
mind  to  which  the  expression  of  such  reflexion  had  been 
familiar  for  generations. 

lu  the  diction  of  Plautus  accoromgly  we  may  consider 
that  we  have  a  thorough  reflexion  of  his  own  mind,  antl 
ail  important  witness  of  Roman  "life  and  thought  in  his 
time.  The  characters  in  his  plays  are  the  stock  characters 
of  the  New  Comedy  of  Athens,  the  "  fallax  servus,"  the 
"  leno  insidiosus,"  the  "  meretrix  blanda,"  the  "  parasitus 
edart,"  the  "amans  ephebus,"  the  "pater  attentus,"  <fec. 
We  n.ay  miss  the  finer  insight  into  humau  nature  and  the 
delicate  touch  in  drawing  character  which  Terence  pre- 
sents to  us  in  his  copies  from  Menander,  but  there  is 
wonderful  life  and  vigour,  and  considerable  variety  in  the 
embodiment  of  these  different  types  by  Plautus.  The 
characters  of  Ballio  and  Pseudolus,  of  Euclio  in  the 
Auhdaria,  of  the  two  Mena;chmi,  and  of  many  others 
have  a  real  individuality,  which  shows  that  in  reproducing 
Greek  originals  Plautus  thoroughly  realized  them  and 
animated  them  with  the  strong  human  nature  of  which  he 
himself  possessed  so  large  a  share.  For  his  plots  and 
incidents  he  has  been  much  more  indebted  to  his  originals. 
There  is  a  considerable  sameness  in  many  of  them.  A 
large  number  turn  upon  what  are  called  "  frustrationes  " 
— tricks  by  which  the  slave  who  plays  the  principal  part 
in  the  comedy  succeeds  in  extracting  either  from  the 
father  of  his  young  master  or  from  some  other  victim  a 
sum  of  money  to  aid  his  master  in  his  love  affairs.  But 
Plautus,  if  not  more  original,  is  more  varied  than  Terence 
in  his  choice  of  plots.  In  some  of  them  the  passion  of 
love  plays  either  no  part  or  a  subordinate  one.  He  also 
varies  his  scenes  much  more  than  Terence.  Thus  in  some 
of  his  plays  we  find  ourselves  at  Epidamnus,  at  Ephesus, 
at  Cyrene,  and  not  always  in  Athens. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  the  comedies  according  to  their  nsnai 
ariaugement,  which  is  nearly,  but  not  strictly  alphabetical:—! 
Amphitruo,  Asbmria,  Aulalaria,  CajHivi,  CuixuUo,  Otsinn, 
Cistcllaria,  E/iidicus,  BruchUlcs,  McstcHaria,  ilcnirclimi,  i'ilii 
G/oriosiis,  Mercalor,  PscadoUis,  Pcruulns,  Pcrsn,  linden^,  Slirhiis, 
Trinummus,  Trucuhnlns.  Of  these  the  most  generally  read,  ami 
on  the  whole  the  most  interesting,  are  the  Aiiliilnrin,  Capliii, 
Mcnxchmi,  Mihs  Ghriosus^  Mostctlarift^  Puctidohts,  Jittdcns^  and 
Trinummus.  Besides  these  the  Amjihili-uo,  Bucchidcs,  and  Slichiis 
(although  the  last  two  are  incomplete)  are  of  special  interest. 
The  Amphitruo  is  altogetlicr  cxeeiitional,  and  gives,  perhaps,  as 
liigh  an  idea  both  of  the  comic  and  of  the  imaginative  power  of 
tlie  author  as  any  of  the  others.  Tlie  interest  attaching  to  it  is 
enhanced  by  the  fact  that  it  has  been  imitated  both  by  Jlolieroancj 
Dryden,  that  attaching  to  the  A  ulularia  by  its  having  suggested  the 
subject  of  L'Avarcot  the  French  dramatist,  and  to  t\\c  Mnia-chmi 
by  the  reappearance  of  its  principal  motive  in  the  Comedy  of  Errors 
of  Shakespiare.  Tlie  Ccipliii  was  characterized  by  Lessing  as  the 
best  constructed  drama  in  existence.  It  may  be  classed  with  thq 
Rudctis  as  ajipealing  to  a  higher  and  purer  class  of  feelings,  and  as 
coming  nearer  to  the  province-  of  serio\is  poetry,  than  any  othci 
extant  specimens  of  Latin  comedy.  The  Auhdaria  and  Trinuin^ 
vuts  may  be  mentioned  along  with  tlieso  as  bringing  us  into 
contact  with  characters  more  estimable  and  attractive  than  thos^ 
in  the  great  majority  of  the  other  pieces. 

While  there  are  abundant  good  seiisc  aud  good  hnmour  in  the 
comedies  of  Plautus,  and  occasional  touclics  of  pathos  and  elcvatei) 
feeling  in  one  or  two  of  them,  there  is  no  trace  of  any  serious 
purpose  behind  his  humorous  scenes  and  represent.ations  o| 
character.  He  presents  a  remarkable  exception  to  the  didactic; 
and  moralizing  spirit  which  appears  in  most  of  the  leading  repie- 
tcntiitives  of  P.c::-in  literature.     He  is  to  be  judged  on  the  claim 


P  L  A  — P  L  E 


217 


which  is  put  fonvurd  in  the  epitaph  which  in  ancitnt  times  was 

attributed  to  Iiimself  : — 

"  Postquam  est  mortem  flptus  Tlautus,  comccdia  luget, 
ycflena  tst  dcscrta,  dfin  lisus,  lutlu'  jocusQue, 
Et  numeil  innumcri  simiU  oinnes  conlacrumarunl."! 

He  has  not  the  more  subtle  and  penetrating  irony  which  wo 
recognize  in  Terence,  iu  Horace,  and  in  Fetronius;  still  less  can  wc 
attribute  to  him  the  "  rigidi  censura  cachinni"  which  accompanied 
and  inspired  the  humorous  fancies  of  Lucilius  and  Juvenah  But 
among  all  the  ancient  humorists,  with  the  exception  of  Aristo- 
phanes, ho  must  have  had  the  power  of  immediately  provoking  the 
heartiest  and  broadest  mirth  and  laughter.  He  was  too  careless  in 
the  construction  of  his  plots  to  be  a  finished  dramatic  artist.  He 
was  apparently  more  popular  among  the  mass  of  his  countrymen 
than  any  Koman  author  of  any  age  ;  but  to  bo  thoroughly  popular 
he  had  to  satisfy  the  tastes  of  an  audience  accustomed  to  the 
indigenous  farces  of  Italy.  This  is  the  defect,  according  to  the 
judgment  of  educated  critics  in  tho  Augustau  age,  which  Horace 
indicates  in  the  line 

"Quantus  ait  Dosgennus  cdacibus  in  parasitls." 
But  he  had  the  most  wonderful  power  of  dramatic  expression  of 
feeling,   fancy,   and  character  by  means  of  action,   rhythm,  and 
language.     In  the  line  in  which  Horace  expresses  the  more  favour- 
able criticism  of  his  time, — 

"Plautus  ad  exemplar  Siculi  propcrare  Epicharml," — 
the  term  propcrare  expresses .  the  vivacity  of  gesture,  dialogue, 
declamation,  and  recitative  in  which  the  plays  of  Plautus  never 
fail,  and  which  must  have  made  them  admirable  vehicles  for  tlie 
art  of  the  actor.  The  lyrical  recitative  occupies  a  much  larger 
place  in  his  comedies  tlian  in  those  of  Terence,  and  in  them  he 
shows  the  true  poetical  gift  of  adapting  and  varying  his  metres  in 
accordance  with  the  moods  and  fancies  of  his  characters.  But  the 
gift  for  which  he  is  pre-eminent  above  almost  every  other  Roman 
author  is  the  vigour  and  exuberant  flow  of  his  language.  No  other 
Vyriter  enables  us  to  feel  the  life  and  force  of  the  Latin  idiom,  un- 
disguised by  the  mannerisms  of  a  literary  style,  in  the  same  degree. 
Among  the  masters  of  expression  in  which  the  prose  and  poetical 
literature  of  Rome  abounds,  none  was  more  prodigally  gifted  than 
Plautus,  and  this  gift  of  expression  was  the  accompaniment  of  tho 
exuberant  creativeness  of  his  fancy  and  of  the  strong  vitality  and 
lively  social  nature  which  was  the  endowment  of  tho  race  to  which 
he  belonged. 

Ill  the  beginning  of  tlie  1.5tli  century  only  the  first  eight  play9(from  Anphitruo 
to  Kpidicui)  were  in  clrculatiim.  The  other  twelve  were  recovered  in  the  course 
of  that  century,  and  two  new  manusciipts,  one  of  them  containing  the  wlioio 
twenty,  were  discovered  in  the  following  century.  The  Ambrosian  palimpsest, 
discovered  in  1815,  has  been  recognized  tis  (he  moat  trustworthy  text  for  tliose 
pl«y3  which  it  preserves,  and  it  is  on  this  that  the  critical  labours  of  Ritsciil  liave 
been  based.  His  great  ciltleal  edition  is  being  continued  by  his  pupils  G,  Loewe, 
G.  Gotz,  Fr.  Schoell.  An  edition  of  the  plays  with  a  commentary  by  Professor 
L'ssing  of  Copenhagen  is  now  nearly  complete.  The  most  useful  editions  of 
separate  plays  arc  those  of  Lorenz  and  IJrix.  (W,  Y.  S.) 

PLAYFMK,  John  (1748-1819),  mathematician  and 
physicist,  was  born  at  Bcnvio,  Forfarshire,  whare  his  father 
was  parish  minister,  on  March  10,  1748.  He  was 
educated  at  homo  until  the  age  of  fourteen,  when  he 
entered  the  university  of  St  Andrews.  Ability  for  scien- 
tific studies  must  have  appeared  very  early  with  him,  for 
while  yet  a  student  he  was  selected  to  teach  natural 
philosophy  during  the  occasional  absence  of  the  professor. 
In  1766,  when  only  eighteen,  he  was  candidate  for  tho 
chair  of  mathematics  in  Marischal  College,  Aberdeen,  and, 
although  he  was  unsuccessful,  his  claims  were  admitted  to 
be  high.  Six  years  later  he  made  application  for  the  chair 
of  natural  philosophy  in  his  own  university,  but  again 
without  success,  and  in  1773  he  was  offered  and  accepted 
the  living  of  the  united  parishes  of  Liff  and  Bcnvie,  vacant 
by  the  death  of  his  father.  He  continued,  however,  to 
carry  on  his  mathematical  and  physical  studies,  and  in 
1782  he  resigned  his  charge  in  order  to  become  the  tutor 
of  Ferguson  of  Raith.  By  this  arrangement  ho  was  able 
to  be  frequently  in  Edinburgh,  and,  to  cultivate  tho 
literary  and  scientific  society  for  which  it  was  at  that  time 
specially  distinguished ;  and  through  Maskelync,  whoso 
acquaintance  ho  had  first  made  in  the  course  of  the  cele- 
brated Schiehallion  experiments  in  1774,  be  also  gained 
access  to  the  scientific  circles  of  London.  In  1785  when 
Dugald  Stewart  succeeded  Ferguson  in  the  Edinburgh  chair 

'  "  After  Plautus  died,  comedy  mourns,  tho  stago  is  deserted,  then 
laughter,  mirth,  and  jest,  and  his  numbcrlcas  numbers  all  wept  in 

1!J— If 


of  moral  philosophy,  Playtair  succeeded  the  former  in  that 
of  mathematics.  In  1802  he  published  a  volume  entitled 
Illmtratiom  of  the  Iluttonian  Theory  of  the  Earth,  and  in 
1805  he  exchanged  the  chair  of  mathematics  for  that  of 
natural  philosophy  in  succession  to  Robison,  whom  also  he 
succeeded  as  general  secretary  to  the  Royal  Society  of 
Edinburgh.  He  took  a  prominent  part,  on  the  liberal 
side,  in  the  ecclesiastical  controversy  which  arose  in  con- 
nexion with  Leslie's  appointment  to  the  post  he  had  vacated,' 
and  published  a  satirical  Letter  (1806)  which  was  greatly 
admired  by  his  friends.  His  election  as  a  fellow  of  the 
Royal  Society  took  place  in  1807.  In  1815,  after  the 
establishment  of  a  European  peace,  he  made  a  journey 
through  France  and  Switzerland  to  Italy,  and  remained 
abroad  for  nearly  eighteen  months,  interesting  himself 
chiefly  in  the  geology  and  mineralogy  of  the  districts  he 
visited.  After  a  few  years  of  gradually  failing  health  he 
died  on  July  19,  1819. 

A  collected  edition  of  Playfair's  works,  with  a  memoir  by  James 
G.  Playfair,  appeared  at  Edinburgh  in  4  vols.  8vo.  His  writings 
include  a  number  of  essays  contributed  to  the  Edinburgh  Review 
from  1S04  onwards,  various  papers  in  the  Phil.  Trans,  (including  his 
earliest  publication  "  On  the  Arithmetic  of  Impossible  Quantities," 
1779,  and  an  "  Account  of  the  Lithological  Survey  of  Schehallion  " 
1811)  and  in  the  Transactions  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh 
("On  the  Causes  which  affect  the  Accuracy  of  Barometrical 
Measurement,"  &c. ),  also  tho  articles  "jEpinus"  and  "Physical 
Astronomy,"  and  a  "Dissertation  on  the  Progress  of  Mathematical 
and  Physical  Science  since  the  Revival  of  Learning  in  lEurope,"  iu 
the  Encyclopaedia,  BrUannica  (Supplement  to  fourth,  fifth,  and, 
sixth  editions).  His  Elements  of  Geometry  first  appeared  in  1795 
and  have  passed  through  many  editions  ;  his  Outlines  of  Natural 
Philosophy  (2  vols.,  1812-16)  consist  of  the  propositions  and 
formulae  which  were  the  basis  of  his  class  lectures.  Playfair's  con- 
tributions to  pure  mathematics  were  not  considerable,  his  paper 
"On  the  Arithmetic  of  Impossible  Quantities,"  that  "On  the  Causes 
which  affect  the  Accuracy  of  Barometrical  Measurements,"  and  his 
Elements  of  Geometry,  all  already  referred  to,  being  the  most  im» 
^ortant.  As  a  mathematician  simply  ho  was  far  inferior  to  the 
first  two  Gregorys,  to  Colin  Maclaurin,  and  even  to  Matthew, 
Stewart.  He  was,  however,  a  man  of  great  general  ability  and  was, 
conspicuous  for  a  calm  intellect.  His  scientific  style  was  a  model 
of  clearness,  and  his  Illustrations  of  the  Huttonian  Theory  of  thi 
Earth  attained  great  popularity  through  its  literary  merits.  His 
lives  of  Matthew  Stewart,  Hutton,  Robison,  many  of  his  reviews, 
and  above  all  his  "Dissertation"  are  of  the  utmost  value.  The 
English  mathematicians  of  his  day  professed  unlimited  admiration 
of  Newton,  but  few  of  them  were  found  able  to  wield  his  weapons, 
and  the  majority  had  come  simply  to  rest  under  the  shadow  of 
that  great  man  ;  to  Playfair  belongs  the  credit  of  having  been  ono 
of  the  first  to  diCTuse  among  his  countrj'mcn  a  knowledge  of  the 
substantial  progress. which  the  infinitesimal  calculus  had  been 
making  in  tho  hands  of  the  Continental  analysts. 

PLEADING,  in  law,  denotes  in  civil  procedure  the 
statement  in  legal  form  of  tho  grounds  on  which  a  party 
to  an  action  claims  the  decision  of  the  court  in  his  favour, 
in  criminal  procedure  the  accusation  of  the  prosecutor  or 
the  answer  of  the  accused.  The  term  "  pleadings  "  is  used 
for  tho  collected  whole  of  the  statements  of  both  parties, 
the  term  "  pleading  "  for  each  separate  [lart  of  the  plead- 
ings. A  pleading  maybe  tho  statement  of  cither  party;  a 
"  plea"  is  (except  in  Scots  and  ecclesiastical  law)  confined 
to  the  defence  made  by  an  accused  person.  To  "  plead  " 
is  to  frame  a  pleading  or  plea. 

All  systems  of  law  agree  in  making  it  necessory  to  bring 
the  grounds  of  a  claim  or  defence  before  tho  court  in  a 
more  or  less  technical  form.  In  Roman  law  tho  action 
passed  through  three  stages  (see  Action),  and  tho  manner 
of  pleading  changed  with  tho  action.  In  tho"  earliest 
historical  jicriod,  that  of  tho  hgis  actioncf,  the  plcadinga 
were  verbal,  and  raado  in  court  by  the  parties  thomselvci, 
the  proceedings  imitating  as  far  as  possible  the  natural 
conduct  of  persons  who  had  been  disputing,  but  who 
suffered  their  quarrel  to  be  appeased  (Elaine,  Ancient  Law, 
ch.  X.).  Though  pleadings  wore  probably  not  couched  in 
technical  language  originally,  this  soon  became  a  necessity. 


218 


PLEADING 


and  was  regarded  as  so  important  that,  as  Gaius  tells  us, 
the  party  who  made  even  the  most  trifling  mistake  would 
lose  his  suit.  This  excessive  reverence  for  formality  is  a 
universal  characteristic  of  archaic  law.  Its  probable 
explanation  is  to  be  found  in  the  weakness  of  the  execu- 
tive. In  the  second  period,  that  of  the  procedure  by 
formulx,  the  issue  which  the  judex  decided  was  made  up 
Jjy  the  prxlor  in  writing  from  the  statements  of  the  parties 
before  him.  The  formula  was  a  short  summary  of  the 
facts  in  dispute  in  technical  language,  with  instructions  to 
'ithe  judex.  The  part  of  the  formula  which  contained  the 
iplaintiS's  claim  was  called  the  inte-Uio.  Any  equitable 
defence  in  iheformida  was  set  up  by  means  of  an  exceptio, 
which  was  either  peremptory,  denying  the  right  of  the 
■plaintiff  to  recover  at  all,  or  dilatory,  denying  only  that 
the  action  could  be  brought  at  the  time  or  by  the  parti- 
cular plaintiff.  The  plaintiff  might  meet  the  exceptio  with 
a  replicalio,  the  defendant  on  his  side  might  set  up  a 
duplicatio,  and  the  plaintiff  might  traverse  the  duplicatio 
by  a  triplicatio.  The  parties  might  proceed  even  further, 
but  beyond  this  point  the  pleadings  had  no  special  names. 
Actions  ho7ise  fidei  implied  every  exceptio  that  could  be 
set  up  ;  in  other  actions  the  exceptio  must  be  specially 
I)leaded.  From  the  formida  the  judex  derived  his  whole 
authority,  and  he  was  liable  to  an  action  for  exceeding  it. 
He  could  not  amend  Van  formida;  that  could  only  be  done 
by  the  prxtor.  In  the  third  period  the  formula  did  not 
exist,  the  plaintiff's  claim  appeared  in  the  summons 
{libellus  conventionis),  and  the  defendant  might  take  any 
defence  that  he  plea.sed,  all  actions  being  placed  on  the 
footing  of  actions  bonx  fidei.  The  issue  to  be  tried  was 
determined  by  the  judge  from  the  oral  statements  of  the 
parties.  In  criminal  procedure  the  indictment  (inscriptio 
or  libellus  accusatiohis)  was  usually  in  writing,  and  con- 
tained a  formal  statement  of  the  offence.  In  some  cabes 
oral  accusations  were  allowed.  The  pleading  of  the  accused 
seems  to  have  been  informal. 

The  development  of  the  system  of  pleading  in  Roman 
and  English  law  proceeded  upon  very  similar  lines.  It  is 
possible  that  tlie  English  system  was  directly  based  upon 
the  Roman.  Bracton  (temp.  Henry  III.)  uses  many  of  the 
Roman  technical  terms.  Pleading  was  oral  as  late  as  the 
reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  but  in  the  reign  of  Edward  III. 
pleadings  began  to  be  drawn  up  in  writing,  perhaps  at  first 
more  for  the  purpose  of  entry  on  the  court  records  than  of 
the  instruction  of  the  court  (see  2  Reeves,  History  of 
Earjiish  Law,  398).  Tlie  French  language  was  used  up  to 
36  Edvv.  III.  St.  1,  c.  15,  after  which  English  was  used 
for  oral  pleading,  but  Latin  for  enrolment.  Latin  was 
the  language  of  written  pleadings  at  common  law  until  4 
Geo.  II.  c.  2G.1  Such  terms  as  declaration,  ansiver, 
replication  are  survivals  of  the  oral  period.  It  is  no  doubt 
from  the  circumstance  of  pleading  having  been  originally 
oral  that  the  word  in  the  popular  though  not  in  the  legal 
BCnse  is  used  for  the  oral  conduct  of  the  case  by  an 
advocate."  The  period  of  the  Roman  formula  has  its 
Analogue  in  the  period  of  the  original  writ  in  England  ^ 
The  writ  was  at  first  a  formal  commission  from  the  crown 
to  a  judicial  officer  to  do  justice  between  the  parties,  the 
claim  being  made  by  means  of  a  count.  The  issue  of  the 
iwrit  was  jxirt  of  the  prerogative  of  the  crown,  unlimited 
Until  the  Provisions  of  Oxford  (1258)  forbade  the  issue  of 
Ifresli  writs  (except  writs  de  cursu)  without  the  consent  of 

'  tn  Chancery  tlio  "  English  Bill,"  so  calleil  from  its  being  iu  tlio 
Kiiglish  langunge,  Imd  existed  long  liefore  this  time, — according  to  Mr 
Bjience,  as  early  as  the  reign  of  Heury  V.  [Eqmialle  Jurisdiction, 
Uol.  i.  p.  348). 

'  In  France  plaider  and  plaidoycr  still  bear  this  meaning. 
,'  The  origin.al  writ  was  so  called  to  distingnisli  it  from  the  judicial 
'writ,  which  was  a  part  of  the  process  of  the  court.     The  jntUcial  writs 
BliU  exist,  e.g.,  writs  of  certiorari  or  fieri  facias. 


the  council.  Gradually  the  writ  came  to  absorb  the  count 
and  included  the  plaintiff's  claim  and  sometimes  the  nature 
of  his  evidence.  The  defendant  pleaded  to  the  writ.  The 
writ  became  the  universal  form  of  instituting  proceedings 
in  the  king's  court,  irrespective  of  the  method  of  trial 
which  followed,  and  probably  grew  fixed  in  form  about  the 
reign  of  Henry  II.  (see  Bigelow,  History  of  Procedure,  ch. 
iv.).  At  a  later  date  the  writ  again  tended  to.approach  its 
earlier  form  and  to  split  into  two  parts,  the  writ  of 
summons  and  the  declaration  or  plaintiff's  claim.  The 
writ  of  summons  was  addressed  to  the  defendant,  and  not, 
as  the  original  writ,  to  a  judicial  officer.  The  pleadings 
became  the  act  of  the  party,  difl'ering  in  this  from  Roman 
law,  in  which  they  were  a  judicial  act.  The  writs  became 
precedents  for  the  forms  of  action,  which,  like  the  writs, 
were  limited  in  number.  The  plaintiff's  claim  was  a  sub- 
stantial repetition  of  the  writ.  Modern  legislation,  in  the 
case  of  the  specially  indorsed  writ  of  summons  (see  below), 
practically  returns  to  this  ancient  stage  of  law.  In  the 
writ,  as  in  the  foi-mula,  the  slightest  failure  in  form  was 
as  a  rule  fatal.  "  The  assigning  of  a  writ  of  a  particular 
frame  and  scope  to  each  particular  cause  of  action,  the 
appropriating  process  of  one  kind  to  one  action  and  of  a. 
different  kind  to  another,  these  and  the  like  distinctions 
rendered  proceedings  very  nice  and  complex,  and  made  the 
conduct  of  an  action  a  matter  of  considerable  difficulty") 
(1  Reeves,  Hist,  of  English  Laiv,  147).  Fines  were  levied 
for  mistakes  in  pleading,  non-liability  to  which  was  some- 
times granted  by  charter  as  a  special  privilege  to  favoured 
towns.  In  both  Roman  and  English  law  fictions,  equity,' 
and  legislation  came  to  mitigate  the  rigour  of  the  law. 
In  England  this  result  was  largely  attained  by  the  framing 
of  the  action  of  trespass  on  the  case  under  the  powers 
of  the  Statute  of  Westminster  the  Second  (13  Edw.  I.' 
Stat.  1,  c.  24),  and  by  the  extension  of  the  action  of 
assumpsit  to  non-feasance.  To  a  less  extent  the  same 
difficulties  were  found  in  the  period  of  special  pleading  * 
which  followed  the  writ  period,  owing  to  the  particularity 
with  which  the  claim  had  to  be  set  out  and  the  narrow 
powers  of  amendment  possessed  by  the  courts.  .The 
practical  questions  at  issue  were  thrown  into  the  shade  by 
questions  of  the  proper  way  of  stating  them.  Substantive 
law  could  only  be  arrived  at  through  the  medium  of  adjec- 
tive law.  Special  pleading  became  an  art  of  the  utmost 
nicety,  depending  on  numerous  rules,  some  of  Uiem  highly 
technical  (see  Goke  upon  Littleton,  303).  Those  who  made 
it  their  business  to  frame  pleadings  were  called  special 
pleaders.  They  were  not  necessarily  members  of  the  bar, 
but  might  be  licensed  to  practise  under  the  bar.  Pleaders 
under  the  bar  still  exist,  but  recent  legislation  has  much 
diminished  their  numbers  and  importance.  Changes  were 
gradually  introduced  by  a  long  series  of  statutes  of  which 
the  most  important  have  been  the  Statutes  of  Jeofails,' 
beginning  as  early  as  14  Edw.  III.,  c.  6,  the  Statutes  of 
Set-off,  the  Common  Law  Procedure' Acts,  and  the  Judica-I 
ture  Acts.  The  advance  has  always  been,  as  in  Romari 
law,  in  the  direction  of  less  formality.  Up  to  1875  the 
system  of  pleading  varied  in  the  different  courts  which 
now  compose  the  High  Court  of  Justice.  In  the  Common 
Law  Courts  the  action  was  commenced  by  a  declaration 
(containing  either  special  or  common  count%,  or  both  com-' 
bined).  to  which  the  'defendant  put  in  a  plea  or  pleasj 
The  plea  was  either  of  the  general  issue,  i.e.,  a  bare  denial  (as 
"  Never  Indebted"  to  an  action  of  debt),  or  special,  setting 
out  the  facts  with  greater  particularity.  Pleas  were  also 
peremptory  or  dilatory,  names  taken  from'  the  Roman  law. ' 

*  The  ingenuity  of  the  pleader  chiefly  showing  itself  in  framing 
special  as  opposed  to  general  picas,  the  term  special  pleading  grew  to 
be  nsed  for  the  whole  proceedings  of  which  it  was  the  most  import>*< 
piirt. 


PLEADING 


219 


Hy  tbe  Common  I,a\Y  Proccilure  Act,  1854,  equitable  j.lcas 
miglit  bo  pleaded.  To  the  defendant's  plea  the  plaintiff 
|>leaded  a  replication  ;  the  defendant  might  follow  with  a 
f^'oinder,  tlio  plaintiff  with  a  surrejoinder^  >th(  defendant 
with  a  rebutter,  the  plaintiff  with  a  sxirreoutter.  Beyond 
that  point,  which  was  seldom  reached,  the  pleadini,-j  had  no 
Mpecial  names.  Tho  pleadings  concluded  with  s,  joinder  of 
issue.  A  copy  of  the  pleadings  constituted  the  record.  Since 
the  Judicature  Acts  there  has  been  no  record,  properly  so 
called,  in  civil  cases,  though  it  has  not  been  expressly 
abolished.  Its  place  is  supplied  by  copies  of  the  pleadings 
delivered  for  the  use  of  tbe  judge  and  of  the  officer  enter- 
ing the  judgment  under  the  Rules  of  the  Supreme  Court, 
1883  (Ord.  xxxvL  r.  30;  Ord.  xli.  r.  1).  Either  party 
might  demur  at  any  stage  of  the  pleadings  (see  Demdr- 
eer).  In  certain  cases  the  replication  of  the  plaintiff  pro- 
ceeded by  way  of  new  assignment ;  e.g.,  iu  an  action  of 
trespass  to  which  justification  was  pleaded,  the  plaintiff 
might  complain  of  acts  in  excess  of  those  covered  by  the 
justification.  In  this  case  he  was  said  to  new  assign,  and 
the  defendant  pleaded  to  the  new  assignment.  In  the 
Court  of  Chancery  the  plaintiffs  claim  was  contained  in  a 
but  (in  certain  matters  of  a  public  nature  an  information), 
to  which  the  defendant  filed  an  answer  on  oath  or  a 
demurrer  or,  more  rarely,  2^leas,  and  the  plaintiff  a  replica- 
tion. Beyond  the  replication  equity  pleadings  did  not 
extend,  the  place  of  further  pleadings  being  supplied  by 
amendment.  Urceptions  (note  again  a  Roman  law  term) 
might  be  taken  to  the  bill  or  answer  on  various  grounds. 
Equity  pleadings,  unlike  common  law  pleadings,  were 
signed  by  counsel.^  In  the  High  Court  of  Admiralty 
the  pleadings  were  called  petition,  aiisiver,  reply,  and 
conclusion.  In  the  Court  of  Probate  they  were  called 
declaration,  plea,  and  replication,  but  tho  procedure  was 
not  tho  same  as  that  in  use  in  the  Common'  Law 
Courts.  In  all  the  courts  a  special  case  without  plead'ngs 
could  by  leave  of  the  court  be  stated  for  the  opinion  of 
the  court. 

The  Judicature  Act,  1873,  introduced  a  uniform  system 
of  pleading  in  tbe  High  Court  of  Justice.  The  practice  is 
now  regulated  by  the  Rules  of  the  Supreme  Court,  1883. 
By  Ord.  xix.  r.  4,  "  every  pleading  shall  contain,  and  con- 
tain only,  a  statement  in  a  summary  form  of  the  material 
facts  on  which  the  party-pleading  relies  for  his  claim  or 
defence,  as  the  case  may  be,  but  not  the  evidence  by  which 
they  are  to  be  proved,  and  shall,  when  necessary,  be 
divided  into  paragraphs,  numbered  consecutively.  Dates, 
sums,  and  numbers  shall  be  expressed  in  figures  and  not 
in  words.  Signature  of  counsel  shall  not  be  necessary ; 
but  where  pleadings  have  been  settled  by  counsel  or  a 
special  pleader  they  shall  be  signed  by  him,  and  if  not  so 
settled  they  shall  be  signed  by  the  solicitor  or  by  tho  party 
if  he  sues  or  defends  in  person."  Tlio  term  "pleading" 
in  the  Judicature  Acts  includes  a  petition  or  summons,  3G 
&  37  Vict.  c.  66,  §  100.  From  1875  to  1883  the  plaintiff 
had  in  almost  every  case  to  deliver  a  .statement  of  claim. 
But  now  no  statement  of  claim  is  delivered  where  the 
action  is  commeoped  by  a  specially  indorsed  writ,  or  where 
tho  writ  is  not  specially  indorsed  unless  tho  defendant 
gives  notice  in  writing  that  ho  requires  a  statement  of 
claim  to  bo  delivered.'  Tho  defendant  presents  his  case  in 
a  statement  of  defence,  and  may  also  set  off  or  sot  up  by 
way  of  counter-claim  any  right  or  claim  against  the  plaintilt 
whether  sounding  in  damages   or  not.     A  counter-claim 

'  For  tho  pleaclin;j  before  1S75  see  Stephen  on  Pleading  for  tho 
Common  Law  Courts,  Story  on  Equity  Pleading  for  tho  Court  of 
Chancery,  and  tho  articles  Bill  and  Decl.uiation. 

'■'  A  sjiecially  indorscil  writ  may  bo  used  in  an  action  for  a  debt  or 
liquidated  demand.  Tho  advautago  of  using  it  io  tliat  tho  defendant 
must  obtain  leave  to  defend  the  action  by  aJiowin;'  to  too  sati^ifactioa 
of  a  juJ^u  tliat  hn  Ins  reasouablo  ;;foui)ds  of  dclonw. 


may  be  made  against  tho  plaintiff  and  a  tliird  party.  Tu 
a  statement  of  defence  or  counter-claim  the  plaintiff  or 
third  party  delivers  a  repli/.  No  pleading  other  than  a 
joinder  of  issue  can  be  pleaded  after  reply  except  by  leave 
of  the  court  or  a  judge.  Both  the  parties  and  the  court 
or  a  judge  have  large  powers  of  amending  the  pleadings. 
Issues  are  in  certain  cases  settled  by  the  court  or  a  judge. 
Demurrers  are  abolished,  and  a  party  is  now  entitled  to 
raise  by  his  pleading  any  point  of  law.  Forms  of  plead- 
ings are  given  in  Appendices  C,  D,  and  E  to  the  Rules  of 
1883.  In  actions  for  damages  by  collision  between  ships, 
a  document  called  a  preliminary  act  (before  the  Judii-<v- 
ture  Act  peculiar  to  tho  Court  of  Admiralty)  must  bo 
filed,  containing  details  as  to  the  time  and  place  of  collision, 
the  speed,  tide,  lights,  ikc.  The  case  may  be  tried  on  the 
preliminary  act.  without  pleadings.  In  all  actions  such 
ground  of  defence  or  reply  as  if  not  raised  would  bo  likely 
to  take  the  opposite  party  by  surprise,  or  would  raise 
issues  of  fact  not  arising  out  of  the  preceding  pleadings, 
must  be  specially  pleaded.  Such  are  compulsory  pilotage, 
fraud,  the  Statute  of  Limitations,  the  Statute  of  Frauds. 
The  pleadings  in  rejylevin  and  petition  of  right  are  governed 
by  special  rules.  To  courts  other  than  the  High  Courts 
of  Justice  the  Judicature  Acts  do  not  apply.  In"  some 
courts,  however,  such  as  the  Chancery  of  the  County  Pala- 
tine of  Lancaster  and  the  Court  of  Passage  of  the  City  of 
Liverpool,  the  rules  of  pleading  used  in  the  High  Court 
have  been  adopted  with  the  necessary  modifications.  In 
the  Mayor's  Court  of  London  the  common  law  pleading, 
as  it  existed  before  the  Judicature  Acts,  is  still  in  use.  In 
the  ecclesiastical  courts  the  statements  of  the  parties  are 
called  generally  pleas.  The  statement  of  the  plaintiff  in 
civil  suits  is  calk  I  a  libel,  of  the  promoter  in  criminal 
suits  articles.  Every  subsequent  plea  is  called  an  allega- 
tion. To  the  responsive  allegation  of  the  defendant  tho 
promoter  may  plead  a  counter-allegation.  The  cause  is 
concluded  when  the  parties  renounce  any  further  allega- 
tion. In  the  Divorce  Court  the  pleadings  are  named 
petition,  ansioer,  replication.  In  that  court  and  in  tho 
ecclesiastical  courts  there  exists  in  addition  a  more  short 
and  summary  mode  of  pleading  called  an  act  on  petition. 
In  tho  county  courts  proceedings  are  commenced  by  a 
plaint,  followed  by  an  ordinary  or  default  summons.  No 
further  pleadings  are  necessary,  but  the  defendant  cannot 
set  Up  certain  special  defences,  such  as  set-off  or  infancy, 
without  tho  consent  of  tho  plaintiff,  unless  after  notice  in 
writing  of  his  intention  to  sot  up  the  special  defence. 

Tho  pleading  in  English  criminal  law  has  been  less 
affected  by  legislation  than  the  pleading  in  actions.  Tho 
pleading  is  more  formal,  and  oral  pleading  i^  still  retained. 
Cases  in  which  the  crown  was  a  party  early  became  known 
as  pleas  of  tho  crown  (placita  coronx),  as  distinguisheil 
from  common  pleas  (comtnunia  placita),  or  pleas  between 
subject  and  subject,  that  is  to  say,  ordinary  civil  actions. 
Pleas  of  tho  crown  originally  included  all  matters  in 
which  the  crown  was  concerned,  such  as  exchequer  cases, 
franchises,  and  liberties,  but  gradually  became  confined  to 
criminal  matters,  strictly  to  the  greater  crimes  triable  only 
in  tho  king's  courts.  In  criminal  pleading  tho  crown 
states  the  case  in  an  indictment  or  information.  Tho 
answer  of  tho  accused  is  a  plea,  which  must  in  almost  all 
cases  be  pleaded  -by  tho  accused  in  person.  Tho  ploa, 
according  to  Blackstono,  is  either  to  tho  jurisdiction,  a 
demurrer,  in  abatement,  special  in  bar,  or  tho  general 
issue.  Tho  latter  is-  the  only  plea  that  often  occurs  iii 
practice;  it  consists  iu  the  oral  answer  of  "Guilty"  or 
"Not  Guilty"  to  tho  charge.  A  demurrer  is  atrictly  not 
a  plea  at  all,  but  an  objection  on  legal  grounds.  Picas  to 
the  jurisdiction  or  in  abatement  do  not  go  to  tho  merits  -if 
tha  c«se,  but  Jlege  that  tho  court  bfs  no  juri-oliclion  Xo, 


220 


P  L.E  — P  L  E 


try  the  particular  offence,  or  that  there  is  a  misnomer  or 
some  other  technical  ground  for  stay  of  proceedings.  The 
power  of  amendment  and  the  procedure  by  motion  in 
arrest  of  judgment  have  rendered  these  pleas  of  little 
jiractical  importance.  The  special  pleas  in  bar  are  autre- 
fois convict  or  autrefois  acquit  (alleging  a  previous  convic- 
tion or  acquittal  for  the  same  crime),  autrefois  attai7it 
(practically  obsolete  since  the  Felony  Act,  1870,  has 
abolished  attainder  for  treason  or  felony),  and  pardon  (see 
Pardon).  There  are  also  special  pleas  in  indictments  for 
libel  under  the  provisions  of  Lord  Campbell's  Act,  6  &  7 
Vict.  c.  96  (see  Libel),  and  to  indictments  for  non-repair 
of  highways  and  bridges,  where  the  accused  may  plead 
that  the  liability  to  rejjair  falls  upon  another  person. 
These  special  pleas  are  usually,  and  in  some  cases  must  be, 
in  writing.  Where  there  is  a  special  plea  in  writing,  the 
crown  puts  in  a  re2)licatinn  in  writing.  (For  the  history 
of  criminal  pleading  see  Stephen,  Uistory  of  the  Criminal 
Law,  vol.  i.  ch.  ix.) 

In  Scotland  an  action  in  tlio  Court  of  Session  begins  by  a  sum- 
inoiis  on  tlie  part  of  the  pursuer  to  which  is  annexed  a  condesccn- 
dene;,  containing  the  allegations  in  fact  on  which  the  action  is 
founded.  The  jyleas  in  law,  or  statement  of  the  legal  rule  or  rules 
relied  upon  (introduced  by  6  Geo.  IV.  c.  120,  §  9),  are  subjoined 
to  the' condescendence.  The  term  Uhc!  is  also  used  (as  in  Roman 
law)  as  a  general  term  to  express  the  claim  of  the  pursuer  or  the 
accusation  of  the  frosccutor.  The  statement  of  the  defender, 
including  his  pleas  in  law,  is  called  Iiis  defences.  They  are  either 
dilatory  or  peremptory.  There  is  no  formal  .joinder  of  issue,  as  in 
England,  but  tire  same  end  is  attaiued  by  adjustment  of  the  plead- 
ings and  tlie  closing  of  the  record.  Large  powers  of  amendment 
and  revisal  are  given  by  the  Court  of  Session  Act,  1868.  In  the 
Sheriff  Court  pleadings  are  very  similar  to  those  in  the  Court  of 
Session.  They  are  commenced  by  a  petition,  whicli  includes  a  con- 
descendence and  a  note  of  the  pursuer's  pleas  in  law.  The  defender 
may  upon  notice  lodge  defences.  The  procedure  is  now  governed 
by  39  k  40  Vict.  c.  70.  The  term  "  pleas  of  the  crown  "  is  confined 
in  Scotland  to  four  offences — murder,  rape,  robbery,  and  fire-raising. 
A  prosecution  is  commenced  cither  by  indictment  or  criminal  letters, 
tlie  former  being  the  privilege  of  the  lord  advocate.  In  the  Supreme 
Court  the  indictment  or  criniin.il  letters  run  in  the  name  of  the  lord 
advocate  ;  in  the  Sheriff  Court  the  criminal  letters  (indictments  not 
being  used  in  that  court)  run  in  the  name  of  the  judge.  The 
Scotch  indictment  differs  from  the  English,  and  is  in  the  form  of  a 
syllogism,  the  major  proposition  stating  the  nature  of  the  crime, 
the  minor  the  actual  offence  committed  and  that  it  constitutes  tho 
crime  named  in  the  major,  the  conclusion  that  on  conviction  of 
the  panel  he  ought  to  suffer  punishment.  The  panel  usually 
pleads  "Guilty"  or  "Not  Guilty"  as  in  England,  but  he  may 
plead  in  bar  want  of  jurisdiction  or  res  judicata,  or  make  special 
defences  (such  as  alibi  or  insanity),  which  must  be  lodged  with  the 
clerk  of  the  court  in  writing  signed  by  him  or  his  counsel.  The 
special  defence  is  read  to  the  jury  immediately  after  they  have  been 
sworn.     (See  Macdonald,  Criminal  Law  of  Scotland.) 

In  the  United  States  two  systems  of  pleading  in  civil  procedure 
exist  side  by  side.  Up  to  1848  the  pleading  did  not  materially 
differ  from  that  in  use  in  England  at  the  same  date.  But  in  1S48 
the  New  York  legislature  made  a  radical  change  in  the  system, 
and  the  example  of  New  York  has  been  followed  by  more  than 
twenty  States.  The  New  York  Civil  Code  of  1848  established  a 
uniform  procedure  called  the  civil  action,  applicable  indifferently 
to  common  law  and  equity.  The  pleadings  are  called  complaint, 
mis'.ocr  (which  includes  counterclaim),  and  reply.  The  demurrer 
also  is  still  used.  In  some  States  which  follow  the  new  procedure 
the  complaint  bears  the  name  of  petition.  In  the  inferior  courts, 
such  as  courts  of  justices  of  the  peace,  the  pleadings  are  more 
simple,  and  in  many  cases  oral.  In  States  which  do  not  adopt 
the  amended  procedure,  tho  pleading  is  much  the  same  as  it  was 
in  the  days  of  Blackstone,  and  the  old  double  jurisdiction  of  com- 
mon law  and  equity  still  remains.  Criminal  pleading  differs  little 
from  that  in  use  in  England.  (See  Bishop,  Laio  of  Criminal  Pro- 
cedure.) ■  (J.  Wt. ) 

PLEBEIANS.     See  Nobility  and  Kome. 

PLEDGE,  or  Pawn,  in  law,  is  "  a  bailment  of  personal 
jproperty  as  a  security  for  some  debt  on  engagement" 
(Story  on  Bailments,  §  286).  The  term  is  also  used  to 
[denote  the  property  which  constitutes  the  security.  Pledge 
is  the  pignus  of  Koman  law,  from  which  most  of  the 
modern  law  on  the  subject  is  derived.  It  differs  from 
hypothec  and  from  the  nore  usual  kind  of  mortgage  in 


that  the  pledge  is  in' the  possession  of  the  pledgee"^;  ,il  also 
differs  from  mortgage  in  being  confined  to  personal  pro, 
perty.  A  mortgage  of  personal  property  in  most  cases 
takes  the  name  and  form  of  a  bill  of  sale  (see  Bill,  tho 
giving  of  bills  of  sale  being  now  regulated  by  the  Bills  of 
Sale  Acts,  1878  and  1882).  The  chief  difference  between 
Roman  and  English  law  is  that  certain  things,  e.g.,  wearing 
apparel,  furniture,  and  instruments  of  tillage,  could  not  be 
pledged  in  Roman  law,  while  there  is  no  such  restriction 
in  English  law.  In  the  case  of  a  pledge,  a  special  property 
passes  to  the  pledgee,  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  maintain 
an  action  against  a  WTongdoer,  but  the  general  property, 
that  is  the  property  subject  to  the  pledge,  remains  in  the 
pledgor.  As  the  pledge  is  for  the  benefit  of  both  parties, 
the  pledgee  is  bound  to  exercise  only  ordinary  care  over 
the  pledge.  The  pledgee  has  the  right  of  selling  the 
pledge  if  the  pledgor  make  default  in  payment  at  the 
stipulated  time.  No  right  is  acquired  by  the  wrongful 
sale  of  a  pledge  except  in  the  case  of  property  passing  by 
delivery,  such  as'  money  or  negotiable  securities.  In  the 
case  of  a  wrongful  sale  by  a  pledgee,  the  pledgor  cannot 
recover  the  valne  of  the  pledge  without  a  tender  of  thei 
amount  due.  For  pledges  by  factors  see  Factor.  A 
pledge  by  a  banker,  merchant,  broker,  attorney,  or  othtr 
agent,  in  violation  of  good  faith,  and  contrary  to  tho 
purpose  for  which  the  property  pledged  was  intrusted  to 
him,  or  a  p^ledge  of  property  with  which  he  was  intrusted 
for  safe  custody,  renders  the  offender  guilty  of  a  mis- 
demeanor, punishable  with  a  maximum  term  of  seven 
years'  penal  servitude,  24  &  25  Vict.  c.  96,  §§  75,  76. 
Pledges  with  pawnbrokers  are  regulated  by  the  Pawn- 
brokers' Act,  1872,  35  i;  36  Vict.  c.  93  (which  applies  to 
Great  Britain).  By  the  provisions  of  the  Act  (which  does 
not  affect  loans  above  £10),  a  pledge  is  redeemable  within 
one  year  and  seven  days  of  grace  added  to  the  year. 
Pledges  pawned  for  10s.  or  under  not  redeemed  in  time 
become  the  property  of  the  pawnbroker,  pledges  above 
10s.  are  redeemable  until  sale.  The  sale  must  be  by 
public  auction.  The  pawnbroker  is  entitled  to  charge  as 
interest  one  halfpenny  per  month  on  every  two  shillings 
lent  where  the  loan  is  under  40s,,  on  every  two  shillings 
and  sixpence  where  the  loan  is  above  40s.  Special  con-- 
tracts  may  be  made  where  the  loan  is  above  40s.  Unlaw- 
ful pawning  of  goods  not  the  property  of  the  pawner,  and. 
taking  in  pawn  any  article  from  a  person  apparently! 
under  the  age  of  sixteen  or  intoxicated,  or  any  linen  ot 
apparel  or  unfinished  goods  or  materials  intrusted  to  washj 
make  up,  &c.,  are  {inter  alia),  made  offences  punishable  bv* 
•summary  conviction.  An  annual  licence,  costing  £1,  lOa.J 
must  be  taken  out  for  every  pawnbroker's  shop. 

The  law  of  Scotland  as  to  pledge  generally  agrees  with  that  of 
England,  as  does  also  that  of  the  United  States.  The  main  differ] 
ence  is  that  in  Scotland  and  Louisiana  a  pledge  cannot  be  sold  unless 
with  judicial  authority.  In  some  of  tho  States  the  common  law  as 
it  existed  apart  from  the  Factors'  Acts  is  still  followed;  in  other^ 
the  factor  has  more  or  less  restricted  power  to  give  a  title  by  pledge. 
In  some  States  pawnbroking  is  regulated  by  the  local  authoritie.si 
and  not,  as  in  most,  by  the  general  law  of  tho  State. 

PLESIOSAURIANS.  The  remarkable  extinct  marino 
reptiles  included  in  the  group  of  the  Plesiosauria  (oj 
Sauropterygia,  as  they  are  sometimes  called)  existed  during 
the  whole  of  the  ]\Iesozoic  period,  that  is,  from  Triassio 
into  Cretaceous  times,  when  they' appear  to  have  died 
out.  The  best  known  of  these  reptiles,  and  that  which 
gives  its  name  to  the  group  is  the  Flesiosaicrus,  a  genua 
established  by  Conybeare  in  1821,  and  including  numerous 
species,  some  of  which  may  have  attained  a  length  of  as 
much  as  20  feet.  The  nearly  allied  Elasmosaurus-  of 
North  America,  however,  reached  a  much  greater  size,  its 
remains  indicating  an  animal  about  45  feet  in  length. 
Several  almost  perfect  skeletons  of  I'lesiosaurus  hOuving  ai 


P  L  E  S  1  0  S  A  U  U  I  A  N  S 


221 


rllfTcrcnt  times  been  found,  tlio  general  projiortions  of  tlio 
l)ocly  are  well  known.  Altliough  the  different  species 
vary  in 'regard  to  proportions,  tlie  small  size  of  the  licad 
ana  extreme  length  of  the  neck  are  always  striking  points 
in  the  skeleton  of  a  Plcsiosmirus,  while  the  tail  is  propor- 
tionately short.  The  limbs,  both  fore  and  hind,  arc  well 
developed  and  modified  for  swimming,  the  forms  of  the 
various  bones  making  it  clear  that  the  digits  of  each  limb 
were  not  separate,  but  enclosed  in  one  covering  of  integu- 
ment, as  in  the  flippers  of  a  whale  or  a  turtle.  The 
exterior  of  the  body,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe,  was 
smooth  as  it  is  in  Cetacea,  and  not  provided  with  either 


Fig.  1. — Plesiosauriis  (after  Oweii;. 

fostrum.  On  the  base  of  the  skull  four  fossK  arc  to  be 
^een ;  the  front  pair  of  these  are  bounded  behind  by  the 
palatine  bones,  and  are  regarded  as  the  true  posterior 
Cares.  The  teeth  are  slender,  sharp,  curved,  and  striated ;" 
(hey  haVe  single  fangs,  and  are  placed  loosely  in  separate 
Alveolar  sockets. 

The  spinal  column  is  composed  of  a  large  number  of 
yertebrae,  some  species  having  ninety  or  more  in  the  entire 
>erie3.  The  centrum  of  each  vertebra"  has  the  fore  and 
(lind  surfaces  slightly  concave ;  the  neural  arch  is  con- 
nected with  the  centrum  by  a  suture,,  which  seems  never 
to  have  been  entirely  obliterated.  The  cervical  vertebrre 
jfary  in  number  from  twenty-four  to  upwards  of  forty  in 
JifEerent  species.  Each  is  provided  with  a  pair  of  ribs, 
closely  resembling  those  found  in  the  cervical  region  in 
the.^  crocodile..  Jut  with  a .  single  articular  head  only. 
Towards  the  hinder  part  of  the  neck  the  ribs  become  more 
elongated,  and  take  on  the  form  of  dorsal  ribs ;  but,  as 
none  of  the  ribs  join  the  sternum,  the  usual  means  of  dis- 
tinguishing the  dorsal  and  cervicak  regions  is  wanting. 
(There  may  be  from  twenty^  to /thirty  dors.\i  vertebra;, 
true  ster;ial  ribs  have  never  been  detected  ;  but  abdominal 
osf 


Fig.  2. 


Fig.  3. 


»io.  2.— Pectoral  «rch  of  Pleiloiaurus^  ttm  from  bolow  (after  Ilulkc),  eo, 
BOracoJd;  tc,  scapula;  pc,  prccoracold  ;  03/,  omi)8tcrnuni. 

Fio  3  —Pelvic  arch  o(  J'Icsiosaurui,  from  above  (after  Huxley).  I'j,  Ischium  ; 
^6,  pubis  ;  il.  Ilium. 

bones,  or  ribs,  are  well  developed.  The  sacrum  consists  of 
two  vertebra;,  with  stout  broad  ribs  for  attachment  to  the 
Ih'ac  bone,?.  The  caudal  vertebra;,  between  thirty  and 
forty  in  number,  have  distir.ct  chevron  bones,  which  are 
attached  between  the  sijccessivo  vertebrae.  The  pectoral 
arch  (fig.  2)  consists  of  a  large  coracoid  on  eich  side,  in 


bony  or  liorny  scutes  or  scales  as  in  the  living  crocodiicg 
and  turtles.  The  internal  skeleton  therefore  is  the  only 
part  available  for  study. 

The  skull  of  J'lcsios'turus  has  a  tapering  and  c>c)ires?td 
snout,  and  in  consequence  of  the  largo  size  of  the  pre' 
maxillary  bones  the  na.'^al  apertures  arc  placed  far  back) 
just  in  front  of  the  orbit,  as  in  birds.  There  is  a  di.<tiiK) 
parietal  foramen,  as  in  lizards.  The  orbit  is  complct<;l>' 
surrounded  by  bone,  and  there  are  supra-  and  infra, 
temporal  fossa;.  The  single  occipital  condyle  is  formed 
almost  entirely  by  the  basi-occipital  bone.  The  ba.^^i^ 
sphenoid  is  well  developed,  and  is  produced  into  a  lond 


front  and  outside  of  which  is  a  peculiarly 
shaped  scapula  with  a  plate  extending  dor- 
sally  from  the  glenoid  cavity,  and  a  second 
jirocess  directed  inwards  and  downwards.' 
The  latter  process  is  now  regarded  as  the 
precoracoid  by  Jlr  J.  W.  Hulke,  who  also 
considers  the  plate  of  bone — originally  of 
two  pieces — found  in  the  middle  and  in 
front  of  the  coracoids  to  be  the  homologuo 
of  the  omosternum  of  Batracliia.  Jf  this 
interpretation  be  correct,  Flesiosavrus  has  neither  clavicles 
nor  interclavicles.  In  the  fore  limb  all  the  characteristic 
bones  are  present.  The  humerus  is  an  elongated  bone 
with  the  anterior  border  nearly  straight  and  tlie  hinder 
border  concave ;  it  is  rounded  at  the  upper  end,  and  flat^ 
tened  beloWj  where  it  is  articulated  to  two  much  shorter 
bones,  the  radius  and  ulna.  Next  to  these  is  a  row  of 
three  carpal-  bones — the  radiale  (scaphoid),  the  ulnare 
(cuneiform),  and  the  intermedium  (lunar) ;  a  second  row 
of  four  bones  succeeds  these,  three  of  wliich  are  carpals, 
but  the  outer  one  may  be  a  metacarpal ;  next  comes  a 
row  of  five  metacarpals.  The  digits  are  five  in  muiibcr, 
and  with  the  exception  of  the  first  are  made  up  of  numerous 
separate  ossicles,  or  phalanges. 

The  pelvic  ^rch  (fig.  3)  is  large,  and  ventrally  consists  of 
a  pair  of  flattened  more  or  less  quadrate  pube.s,  and  a  pair  of 
somewhat  triangidar  ischia.  The  iliac  bones  are  elongated, 
narrower  where  they  form  part  of  th(;  acetabular  articula* 
tion  and  becoming  broader  above. where  they  join  the 
sacral  ribs.'  ■  The  hind  limb  very  closely  resembles  the  foro 
liiirb.  The  front  and  back  nvargins  of  the  femur  aio 
straighter  than  they  are  in 'the  liumerus ;  but  tl'C  other 
parts  almpst  exactly  reo^ai  the  corresponding  bones  of  tho 
fore  limb. 

With  regard  to  the  probable  habits  of  the  Flesiosaurus 
we  are  not  without  some  indications.  The  paddle-like  form 
of  the  limbs  leaves  no  doubt  as  to  its  aquatic  mode  of  life,' 
and  judging  from  the  fossils  with  wliicli  it  is  u^r-jJly,  asso- 
ciated it  must  have  been  an'  inhabitant  of  tjie  sea ;  it  ig 
highly  probable,  however,  that  some  species  at  lea.st  ascended 
rivers,  for.  remains  of  Plesiosauria  arc  found  in  th(r  WcaldeiJ 
freshwater  deposits.  Tlio  comparatively  small  tail  ond  largo 
paddles  render  it  probable  that  tho  limbs  wcro  tho  chief 
means  of  propulsion.  The  long  neck  would  tend  to  impedci 
its  progress  through  the  water,  and  it  wotdd  bo  better 
adapted,  thci'efore,  for  swimming  on  or  near  the  surface. 
It  is  unlikely  that  the  Plesiosaitrus  could  move  aS  rapidly 
through  the  water  as  the  Ichlhyosaurus ;  but  this  slower 
movement  would  bo  compensated  for  by  tho  rapidity  witli 
which  its  long  and  flexible  neck  could  bo  darted  at  ita 
prey.  Seeing  tliat  the"  marine  turtles  and  6ca^3  of  tho 
present  day  make  their  way  on  shore,  it  is  quite  possiblu 
tliat  tho  1  lexiosaurus  may  also  have  occa.sionall^viaited  thol 


222 


P  L  E  —  P  L  E 


land.  The  sharp  and  slender  teeth  would  be  admirably 
adapted  for  catching  and  holding  a  slippery  prey,  and  there 
is  no  doubt  that  fishes  formed  in  part,  if  not  altogether,  its 
natural  food.  Indeed  tlie  scales  and  teeth  of  fishes  have 
been  found,  in  one  case  at  least,  just  below  the  vertebrce, 
in  the  region  which  must  have  been  occupied  by  the 
creature's  stomach. 

It  is  of  interest  to  note  the  differences  which  exist  between  the 
PUsiosaurui  and  the  IcHTHYOsAur.us  {q.r. ),  the  latter  being  the  type 
bf  another  group,  the  Idilhyosauria,  which  is  by  some  pah-eontolo- 
gists  included  ivith  the  Plcsiosauria  in  a  lai'ger  group  called  EnaJio- 
sauria.  lu  outward  form  the  Ichlhyosaurus  must  have  resembled 
some  of  the  recent  Cctacca,  inasmuch  as  the  head  is  proportionately 
Jarge,  and  without  any  appearance  of  a  neck  joins  directly  on  to 
the  trunk.  The  hind  limbs  are  smaller  than  the  front  ones,  and 
the  bones  of  both  limbs  are  much  more  shortened  and  flattened 
than  in  PUsiosaurus  ;  in  addition  to  this  there  are  supernumerary 
rows  of  bones,  besides  the  five  typical  digital  series.  The  pectoral 
arch  differs  in  having  distinct  clavicles  and  interclavicles.  The 
vertcbrfe  are  short  from  back  to  front,  deeply  biconcave,  and  their 
neural  arches  never  have  a  bony  connexion  with  the  centra.  There 
is  no  sacrum.  The  teeth  arc  placed  in  a  groove,  and  not  in 
separate  sockets.  The  eye-ball  was  protected  by  a  series  of  bony 
sclerotic  plates,  which  are  not  found  in  Plcsiosaimis. 

The  group  Plcsiosauria  includes  several  other  genera  besides  the 
Plesiosaurus ;  but  most  of  these  are  only  represented  by  such 
imperfect  specimens  that  the  distinctions  between  them,  as  at 
present  known,  are  far  from  satisfactory.  The  characters  which 
have  been  relied  upon  for  their  separation  are  to  be  found  chiefly  in 
the  structure  of  the  pectoral  arch,  limbs,  and  vertebra.  Plesiosaurus 
is  only  certainly  known  to  have  existed  from  the  time  of  the  Lower 
Lias  to  the  Chalk  ;  and  it  is  especially  characteristic  of  the  Laas. 
ilore  than  fifty  species,  sometimes  placed  in  several  subgenera, 
liave  been  described  from  difl'erent  localities  in  Britain,  some  of 
which  are  represented  by  remarkably  perfect  specimens,  and  others 
by  fragments  only.  This  genus  has  a  wide  geographical  distribu- 
tion, species  having  been  named  from  Secondary  strata,  on  the  con- 
tinent of  Kiiropc,  in  India,  Australia,  South  America,  and  North 
America.  The  closely  allied  and  gigantic  {ovm Pltosaurus is  chiefly 
characteristic  of  the  English  Oolites. 

In  European  Triassic  beds,  Plcsiosauria  are  represented  by  such 
genera  as  Nothosaurus,  Simosaurus,  and  Pistosaurus,  in  all  of 
which  the  neural  arches  seem  to  have  been  less  closely  united  to  the 
vertebral  centra  than  in  Plesiosaurus.  Neuslicosaurus  is  another 
Triassic  form,  remarkable,  not  only  on  account  of  its  small  size, 
being  less  than  12  inches  in  length,  but  also  because  its  limbs  seem  to 
show  a  transitional  condition  ;  for,  while  the  structure  of  the  hind 
limb  resembles  that  of  a  landreptile,  the  fore  limb  sesms  to  have 
liad  more  the  structure  of  a  paddle. 

A  number  of  forms  closely  related  to  the  Plrsiosaurus  have  been 
•described  from  rocks  of  Cretaceous  age  in  North  America  under  the 
following  generic  names  —  Cimoliasaurus,  Elasniosaurv^Sy  Oligo- 
simus,  Piratosaurus,  and  Polycotijlus.  Of  these  the  Elasmosaurus 
is  better  known  than  any  of  the  others.  It  was  an  e.\tremely  elon- 
gated form,  as  may  be  gathered,  from  the  fact  that  the  snake-like 
neck  alone  consisted  of  more  than  sixty  vertebr£e,^the  entire  body, 
as  we  have  noticed  above,  being  more  than  45  feet  in  length. 

See  Conybeave,  Tram.  Oeol.  Soc,  ser.  1,  vol.  v.  p.  659, 1821,  and  ser.  2,  vol.  i. 
p.  103,  1824;  ftwen,  Bril.  Assoc.  Rep.,  1839,  p.  43;  Hawkins,  Oreat  Sea 
Dragons,  1840;  Phillips,  Vallty  o/  the  Thames,  1871;  Huxley,  Anal.  <)/  Vert. 
Anim.,  1871,  p.  208;  Nicholson,  Palxontolcgy,  vol.  ii.  p.  218,  1879;  Sollas, 
Quart.  Joam.  Oeol.  Soc,  vol.  xxxviii.  p.  440,  1881;  Hulke,  Presidential  Address, 
Oeol.  Soc.,  1383  ;  Leidy,  "  Fossil  Vertebrates,"  in  Report  V.  S.  Oeol.  Surv.  Terri- 
tgries,  vol  i.,  1873  ;  and  Cope,  ibid.,  voL  ii.,  1875.  (E.  T.  N.) 

PLETHO.     See  Gemistus. 

PLEUKISY,  or  Pleueitis,  inflammation  of  the  pleura 
or  serous  membrane  investing  the  lungs  and  lining  the 
jinterior  of  the  thoracic  cavity.  It  is  a  common  form  of 
(Chest  complaint,  and  may  be  either  acute  or  chronic,  more 
frequently  the  former. 

The  morbid  changes  which  the  pleura  undergoes  when 
Inflamed  are  similar  to  those  which  tike  place  in  other 
serous  membranes,  such  as  the  peritoneum  (see  Peeitoni- 
ns),  and  consist  of  three  chief  conditions  or  stages  of  pro- 
gress. (1)  Inflammatory  congestion  and  infiltration  of 
the  pleura,  which  may  spread  to  the  tissues  of  the  lung  on 
i;he  one  hand,  and  to  those  of  the  chest  wall  on  the  other. 
(2)  Exudation  of  lymph  on  the  pleural  surfaces.  This 
Jyniph  is  of  variable  consistence,  sometimes  composed  of 
thin  and  easily  separated  pellicles,  or  of  extensive  thick 
masses  or  strata,  or  again  showing  itself  in  the  form  of  a 
tough   membrane.     It   is   of   greyish-yellow   colour,   and 


mici-oscopically  consists  mainly  of  coagulated  fibrinc  along 
with  epithelial  cells  and  red  and  white  blood  corpuscles. 
Its  presence  causes  roughening  of  the  two  pleural  surfaces, 
which,  slightly  separated  in  health,  may  now  be  brought 
into  contact  by  bands  of  lymph  extending  between  them. 
These  bands  may  break  up  or  may  become  organized  by 
the  development  of  new  blood-vessels,  and  adhering  per- 
manently may  obliterate  throughout  a  greater  or  less  space 
the  pleural  sac,  and  interfere  to  some  extent  with  the  free 
play  of  the  lungs.  (3)  Effusion  of  fluid  into  the  pleural 
cavity.  This  fluid  may  vary  in  its  characters.  Most 
commonly  it  is  clear  or  sligbtly  turbid,  of  yellowish-green 
colour,  sero-fibrinous,  and  containing  flocculi  of  lymph.  In 
bad  constitutions  or  in  cases  where  the  pleurisy  complicates 
some  severe  form  of  disease,  e.g.,  the  acute  infectious 
maladies,  it  is  deeply-coloured,  bile-stained,  sero-purulent, 
purulent,  or  bloody,  occasionally  containing  bubbles  of  aif 
from  decomposition.  The  amount  may  vary  from  an 
almost  inappreciable  quantity  to  a  gallon  or  more.  When 
large  in  quantity  it  may  fill  to  distension  the  pleural  sac, 
bulge  out  the  thoracic  wall  externally,  and  compress  more 
or  less  completely  the  lung,  which  may  in  such  cases  have- 
all  its  air  displaced  and  be  reduced  to  a  mere  fraction  of 
its  natural  bulk  lying  squeezed  up  upon  its  own  root. 
Other  organs,  such  as  the  heart  and  liver,  may  in  conse- 
quence of  the  presence  of  the  fluid  be  shifted  away  from 
their  normal  position.  In  favourable  cases  the  fluid  ia 
absorbed  more  or  less  completely  and  the  pleural  surfaces 
again  may  unite  by  adhesions ;  or,  all  traces  of  inflam- 
matory products  having  disappeared,  the  pleura  may  be 
restored  to  its  normal  condition.  When  the  fluid  is  not 
speedily  absorbed  it  may  remain  long  in  the  cavity  and 
compress  the  lung  to  such  a  degree  as  to  render  it  incapable 
of  re-expansion  as  the  effusion  passes  slowly  away.  Tha 
consequence  is  that  the  chest  wall  falls  in,  the  ribs  become 
approximated,  the  shoulder  is  lowered,  the  spine  becomes 
curved  and  internal  organs  permanently  displaced,  whil^ 
the  affected  side  scarcely  moves  in  respiration.  Some- 
times the  unabsorbed  fluid  becomes  purulent,  and  an 
empyema  is  the  result.  In  such  a  case  the  matter  seeks 
vent  in  some  direction,  and  it  may  point  as  an  abscess 
upon  the  chest  or  abdominal  wall,  or  on  the  other  hand 
burst  into  the  lung  and  be  discharged  by  the  mouth.  It 
must  be  observed  that  many  cases  of  pleurisy  do  not  reach 
the  stage  of  effusion,  the  inflammation  terminating  with 
the  exudation  of  lymph.  To  this  form  the  term  dry 
pleurisy  is  applied.  Further  pleurisy  may  be  limited  to  a 
very  small  area,  or,  on  the  contrary,  ""may  affect  throughout 
a  greater  or  less  extent  the  pleural  surfaces  of  both  lungs. 

Pleurisy  frequently  arises  from  exposure  to  cold ;  hence 
it  is  more  common  in  the  colder  weather ;  but  besides  this 
various  other  causes  are  connected  with  its  occurrence. 
Thus  it  is  often  associated  with  other  forms  of  disease 
within  the  chest,  more  particularly  pneumonia,  bronchitis, 
and  phthisis,  and  also  occasionally  accompanies  pericarditis. 
Again  it  is  apt  to  occur  as  a  secondary  disease  in  certain 
morbid  constitutional  states,  e.g.,  the  infectious  fevers; 
rheumatism,  gout,  Bright's  disease,  diabetes,  ic.  Further) 
wounds  or  injuries  of  the  thoracic  walls  are  apt  to  set  uj 
pleurisy,  and  the  rupture  of  a  phthisical  cavity  in  thg 
lungs  causing  the  escape  of  air  and  matter  into  the  pleura 
has  usually  a  similar  effect.  '     ;'  .-. 

The  symptoms  of  pleurisy  vary,  being  generally  well- 
marked,  but  sometimes  obscure.  In  the  case  of  •  dry 
pleurisy,  which  is  on  the  whole  the  milder  form,  the  chief 
symptom  is  a  sharp  pain  in  the  side,  felt  especially  in 
breathing.  Fever  may  or  may  not  be;  present.  There  is 
slight  dry  cough  ;  the  breathing  is  quicker  than  natural, 
and  is  shallow  and  of  catching  character.  If  much  pain 
is  present  the  body  leans  somewhat  to  the  affected  side  to 


i^  L  E  U  R  I  S  Y 


223 


I 


I 


rolax  tlic  iciibion  on  tlio  intercostal  muscles  and  tbcir 
covering,  which  arc  even  tender  to  touch.  On  listening 
to  the  chest  by  the  stethoscope  the  physician  recognizes 
sooner  or  later  "friction,"  a  superficialrough  rubbing  sound, 
occurring  only  with  the  respiratory  acts  and  ceasing  when 
the  breath  is  held.  It  is  due  to  the  coming  together 
during  respiration  of  the  two  pleural  surfaces  which  are 
roughened  by  the  exuded  lymph.  The  patient  may  him- 
self be  aware  of  this  rubbing  sensation,  and  its  vibration 
or  fremitus  may  be  felt  by  the  hand  laid  upon  the  thoracic 
wall  during  breathing.  This  form  of  pleurisy  may  be 
limited  or  may  extend  over  the  greater  part  of  one  or  both 
sides.  It  is  a  not  unfrequent  complication  of  phthisis  in 
all  its  stages.  In  general  it  disappears  in  a  short  time, 
and  complete  recovery  takes  place  ;  or  ou  the  other  hand 
extensive  adhesions  may  form  between  the  costal  and 
pulmonary  surfaces  of  the  pleura,  preventing  uniform 
expansion  of  the  lung  in  respiration,  and  leading  to 
emphysema.  Although  not  of  itself  attended  with  danger, 
dry  pleurisy  is  sometimes  preliminary  to  more  serious 
lung  disease,  and  is  always  therefore  to  be  regarded  while 
it  lasts  with  some  degree  of  anxiety. 

Pleurisy  with  effusion  is  usually  more  severe  than  dry 
pleurisy,  and,  although  it  may  in  some  cases  develop  insidi- 
ously, it  is  in  general  ushered  in  sharply  by  rigors  and  fever, 
like  other  acute  inflammatory  diseases.  Pain  is  felt  in  the 
side  or  breast,  of  a  severe  cutting  character,  referred  usually 
to  the  neighbourhood  of  the  nipple,  but  it  may  be  also  at 
some  distance  from  the  affected  part,  such  as  through  the 
middle  of  the  body  or  in  the  abdominal  or  iliac  regions. 
This  transference  of  the  pain  occasionally  misleads  the 
medical  examiner.  The  pain  is  greatest  at  the  outset,  and 
tends  to  abate  as  the  effusion  takes  place.  A  dry  cough 
is  almost  always  present,  which  is  particularly  distressing 
owing  to  the  increased  pain  the  effort  excites.  The 
breathing  is  painful  and  difficult,  tending  to  become 
shorter  and  shallower  as  the  disease  advances  and  the  lung 
on  the  affected  side  becomes  compressed.  The  patient  at 
first  lies  most  easily  on  the  sound  side,  but  as  the  effusion 
increases  ho  finds  his  most  comfortable  position  on  his 
back  or  on  the  affected  side.  When  there  is  very  copious 
effusion  and,  as  is  apt  to  happen,  great  congestion  of  the 
■other  lung,  or  disease  affecting  it,  the  patient's  breathing 
jiiay  be  so  embarrassed  that  he  cannot  lie  down. 

On  phy.sical  examination  of  the  chest  the  following  are 
among  the  chief  points  observed.  (1)  On  inspection  there 
is  more  or  less  bulging  of  the  side  affected,  obliteration  of 
the  intercostal  spaces,  and  sometimes  elevation  of  the 
shoulder.  (2)  On  palpation  with  the  hand  applied  to  the 
side  there  is  diminished  expansion  of  one-half  of  the 
thorax,  and  the  normal  vocal  fremitus  is  abolished. 
Should  the  effusion  be  on  the  right  side  and  copious,  the 
liver  may  be  felt  to  have  been  pushed  downwards,  and  the 
heart  somewhat  displaced  to  the  left ;  while  if  the  effusion 
bo  on  the  loft  side   the  heart   is  displaced  to  the  right. 

(3)  On  percussion  there  is  absolute  dulness  over  the 
Beat  of  the  effusion.  If  the  fluid  docs  not  fill  the  pleural 
sac  the  floating  lung  may  yield  a  hyper-resonant  note. 

(4)  On  auscultation  the  natural  breath  iound  is  in- 
audible over  the  effusion.  Should  the  latter  be  ■  only 
partial  the  breathing  is  clear  and  somewhat  harsh,  with 
or  without  friction,  and  the  voice  sound  is  a:'gophonic. 
Posteriorly  there  may  be  heard  tubular  breathing  with 
rcgophony.  The.se  various  physical  signs  render  it  im- 
possible to  mistake  the  disease  for  other  maladies  the 
symptoms  of  which  may  bear  a  resemblance  to  it,  such  as 
pleurodynia. 

The  absorption  or  removal  of  the  fluid  is  marked  by  the 
disappearance  or  diminution  of  tho  above-mentioned 
physical  signs,  except  that  of  percussion  dulnosa,  which 


may  last  a  long  time,  and  is  probably  due  in  part  to  the 
thickened  pleura.  I'rietion  may  again  be  heard  as  tho 
fluid  passes  away  and  the  two  pleural  surfaces  come 
together.  The  displaced  organs  are  restored  to  their 
position,  and  the  compressed  lung  re-expanded.  Fre- 
quently this  expansion  is  only  partial,  and  consequently,  as 
already  indicated,  the  chest  falls  in,  the  respiration  on  one 
side  is  imperfectly  performed,  and  the  patient  remains 
permanently  short  in  breathing  to  a  greater  or  less  degree. 

In  most  instances  the  termination  is  favourable,  tho 
acute  symptoms  subsiding  and  the  fluid  (if  not  drawn  off) 
gradually  or  rapidly  becoming  absorbed,  sometimes  after 
re-accumulation.  On  the  other  hand  it  may  remain  long 
without  undergoing  much  change,  and  thus  a  condition  of 
chronic  pleurisy  becomes  established.  Such  cases  are  to  bo 
viewed  with  suspicion,  particularly  in  those  who  are  predis- 
posed to  phthisis,  of  which  it  is  sometimes  the  precursor. 

Pleurisy  may  exist  in  a  latent  form,  the  patient  going 
about  for  weeks  with  a  large  accumulation  of  fluid  in  his 
thorax,  the  ordinary  acute  symptoms  never  having  been 
present  in  any  marked  degree.  Cases  of  this  sort  arc 
often  protracted,  and  their  results  unsatisfactory  as  regards 
complete  recovery. 

The  chief  dangers  in  pleurisy  are  tlie  occurrence  of  a  large  and 
rapid  effusion,  particularly  if  both  sides  be'allcctcd,  causing  much 
embarrassment  to  the  breatliing  and  tendency  to  collapse;  tlio 
formation  of  an  em  pytenia  (often  marked  by  recurring  rigors  and 
hectic  symptoms) ;  severe  collateral  congestion  of  the  other  lung; 
imperfect  recovery ;  and  the  supervention  of  phthisis.  Further  tlio 
consequences  are  apt  to  bo  more  serious  where  pleuiisy  cxista  as  a 
complication  of  some  pre-existing  disease. 

The  treatment  of  plein-isy  need  only  be  ajluded  to  in  general 
terms.  It  will  uecessaiily  depend  as  regards  details  upon  the  fonu 
and  severity  of  tlie  attack.  One  of  the  first  symptoms  c.illing  for 
treatment  is  the  pain.  Opiates  in  the  form  of  morphia  or  Dover's 
powder  are  useful  along  with  the  application  to  tlie  chest  of  hot 
poultices  or  fomentations  sprinkled  with  turpentine.  In  severe 
cases  much  relief  to  the  pain  and  difficulty  of  breathing  may  be 
afforded  by  the  application  of  a  few  leeches  to  the  .'■idc.  Cases  of 
simple  dry  pleurisy  usually  soon  yield  to  such  treatment,  aided  if 
need  he  by  the  application  of  a  fly-blister  or  of  iodine  to  the  chest 
The  fi.\ing  as  far  as  possible  of  the  one  side  of  the  thorax  bynicans 
of  cross  straps  of  adhesive  plaster  according  to  the  plan  recom- 
mended by  Dr  Roberts  seems  of  use  in  many  instances.  In  tlio 
C.1S0  of  pleurisy  with  effusion,  in  addition  to  these  measures, 
including  blistering,  tho  internal  use  of  saline  cathartics  and 
diuretics  appears  to  bo  often  of  service  in  diminishing  the  amount 
of  the  fluid  in  the  pleural  cavity,  as  arc  also  powerful  di.iphoietics 
such  as  pilocarpin.  When  these  measures  fail  to  rcduco  the 
effusion  tho  question  of  the  artificial  removal  of  the  fluid  comes  to 
bo  considered.  The  opeiation,(thoracentesis)  was  practised  by  tho 
ancient  jihysicians,  but  was  revived  in  modern  times  by  Trousseau 
iu  Fiance  and  Kowditch  in  America,  by  tho  latter  of  whom  an 
excellent  instrument  was  devised  for  emptying  the  dicst,  which, 
however,  has  bceu  displaced  in  practice  by  tlie  still  more  convenient 
aspirator.  Tho  propriety  of  this  -proceeding  in  pleurisy  with  effu- 
sion has  been  much  discussed,  but  there  now  appears  to  be  a  general 
consent  that  in  cases  of  extensive  nccumulatioii,  when  other  means 
such  as  those  briefly  referred  to  fail  to  rcduco  or  reniovo  the  fluid 
ill  a  short  time,  the  only  hope  of  preventing  such  compression 
of  tho  lung  as  will  impair  its  function  lies  in  tho  performance  of 
thoracentesis.  All  the  nioro  will  tho  operation  bo  justifiable  if  tho 
accumulated  iluid  is  interfering  with  tho  function  of  other  organs, 
such  as  tho  heart,  or  is  attended  with  marked  embarrassment  of  tho 
breathing.  Tho  chest  is  punctured  in  tho  lateral  or  posterior 
regions,  and  in  most  cases  tho  greater  portion  or  all  of  tho  llui.l  may 
bo  safely  drawn  off.  In  general  tho  operation  is  unattended  with 
danger,  although  not  entirely  exempt  from  such  risks  as  sudden 
syncope,  and  therefore  not  to  bo  undortjiken  without  duo  vigilance 
03  well  nsa  careful  consiiUration  ofthe  individual  ease  and  its  nssoclo- 
tions.  In  many  instances  not  only  is  tho  removal  of  distressing- 
symptoms  speedy  and  complete,  but  tho  lung  ia  relieved  from 
pressure  in  time  to  enable  it  to  resume  its  normal  function.  \\'\tti\ 
there  is  any  evidence  that  the  fluid  is  purulent  tho  operation  should 
bo  performed  early.  In  such  coses  it  is  sometiines  necessary  to 
establish  for  a  time  a  drainage  of  tho  pleural  cavity  by  surgical 
measures. 

Tho  convalescence  from  plcnrisy  requires  careful  tending,  and 
the  state  of  tho  chest  should  be  inquired  into  from  timo  to  time, 
in  view  of  tho  risks  o(  more  serious  forma  of  lung  disease  super- 
vening. (J.  Oi  <^,) 


224 


P  L  E  — r  L  1 


PLEURO-PNEUMONIA.  See  Murrain,  vol.  xvii. 
p.  CO. 

PLEVNA,  or  Pleven,  the  chief  town  of  one  of  the  pro- 
vinces in  the  principality  of  Pulgaria,  lies  in  the  midst  of 
k  series  of  hills  (whose  crests  rise  above  it  for  200  to  600 
Eeet)  and  about  6000  yards  to  the  east  of  the  river  Vid  (a 
tributary  of  the  Danube),  into  which  the  streamlets  by 
which  it  is  traversed  discharge.  Its  position  at  the  meet- 
ing place  of  roads  from  Widdin,  .Sofia,  Shipka,  Biela, 
Zimnitza,  and  Nikopoli  gives  it  a  certain  military  import- 
&nce,  and  in  the  Russian  campaign  of  1877  it  became  one 
bf  the  great  centres  of  operation.  The  Russians,  who 
had  been  defeated  in  two  minor  attacks  on  the  20th  and 
30th  of  July,  were  again  repulsed  with  a  loss  of  18,000 
men  in  an  assault  (September  7-13)  in  which  they  em- 
ployed 75,000  infantry  and  60,000  cavalry  They  formally 
invested  the  town  on  October  2fth  and  obliged  Osman 
Pasha  to  surrender  on  December  10th  In  142  days  the 
assailants  had  lost  40,000  men  and  the  defenders  30,000. 
Plevna,  which  contains  two  old  Christian  churches  as  well 
is  a  number  of  mosques,  had  11,129  inhabitants  in  1881, 
the  province  at  the  same  date  containing  100,870. 

See  f.  v.  Greene,  The  Russian  Army  and  its  Campaigins  in 
Turkey  in  1877-78,  London,  1879. 

PLEYEL,  Ignaz  Joseph  (1757-1831),  though  now 
almost  forgotten,  was  once  one  of  the  most  popular  com- 
posers in  Europe.  He  was  born  at  Ruppersthal,  near 
Vienna,  June  1,  1757,  studied  the  pianoforte  under  Van 
Hal  (known  in  England  as  Vanhall),  and  learned  com- 
position from  Haydn,  who  became  his  dearest  friend.  He 
was  appointed  maitre  de  chapelle  at  Strasburg  in  1783 ; 
and  in  1791  he  was  invited  to  London,  where,  though 
Haydn  was  also  there,  he  achieved  an  immense  success. 
On  his  return  to  Strasburg  he  narrowly  escaped  the  guillo- 
tine ;  but,  after  proving  that  he  was  not  an  aristocrat,  he 
was  permitted  to  remain  until  1795,  when  he  migrated  to 
Paris.  Here  he  opened  a  large  music  shop,  published  the 
first  complete  edition  of  Haydn's  quartetts,  and  founded, 
in  1807,  the  pianoforte  manufactory  which  still  bears  his 
name.     He  died  at  Paris,  November  14,  1831. 

Pleyel's  compositions  are  very  numerous,  "but  it  is  only  in  the 
earlier  ones  that  the  fire  of  true  genius  is  discernible.  His 
daughter-in-law,  Maria  Plcyel, — n^e  Moke  {lSll-1875),  and  wife 
of  his  oldest  son,  Camille, — was  one  of  the  most  accomplished 
pianistes  of  the  age. 

PLINY,  THE  Naturalist  (23-79  a.d.).  Cains  Plinius 
Secundus,  commonly  distinguished  as  the  elder  Pliny,  the 
author  of  the  Natural  History,  is  believed  to  have  been 
born  (23  a.d.)  at  Novum  Comum  (Como).  In  the  first 
sentence  of  his  preface  he  calls  Catullus,  born  at  Verona, 
"  contcrraneum  meum,"  meaning,  perhaps,  a  native  of 
rjallia  Cisalpina,  though  it  may  be  that  Verona  was  the 
actual  birthplace  of  both.i  At  Comum,  however,  was  the 
family  estate  which  the  younger  Pliny  inherited  from  his 
uncle.  Like  his  nephew,  the  elder  Pliny  had  seen  military 
service,  having  joined  the  campaign  in  Germany  under 
p.  Pomponius  Secundus  j^  like  him  also,  he  had  been  a 
pleader  in  the  law-courts,  and  a  diligent  student  of  Greek 
5,nd  Roman  literature.  Much  of  his  literary  work  was 
[lone,  he  tells  us  himself,  in  the  hours  stolen  from  sleep. 
0f  his  many  works  the  Naturalis  Historia  in  thirty-seven 
books  has  alone  been  preserved,  and  in  a  nearly  complete 
ftate.  This  voluminous  treatise  professes  to  be  an  encyclo- 
paedia of  Roman  knowledge,  mainly  based  on  the  researches 
find  speculations  of  the  Greeks.     What  A.  von  Humboldt 

'  But,  as  has  been  shrewdly  remarked  hy  Mr  Long,  "  this  some- 
what barbarous  word  is  much  better  adapted  to  intimate  that  Catullus 
was  a  fellow-countryman  of  Pliny  than  that  he  was  a  fellow-townsman." 

•  "  De  Vita  Pomponi  Secundi  duo  (libri)"  ar.e  enumerated  among 
jiis  uncle's  works  by  the  younger  Pliny,  Ep.  iii.  5,  §  3,  who  adds,  "  a 
juo  singulariter  amatus  hoc  raemoria!  amiol  cjaasi  .(iebitum  piunus 
MsUvit.'' 


accomplisned  in  our  own  times,  in  his  great  work  Cosmon^ 
Pliny  had  essayed  to  carry  (5ut  on  similar  principles,- — but, 
of  course,  without  the  scientific  knowledge,  and  also  with- 
out the  comprehensive  view  of  the  universe  which  is  th^ 
inheritance  of  the  present  age.  Pliny,  we  must  admit,  was 
an  industrious  compiler,  but  he  was  not,  like  Aristotle,  t 
man  of  original  research. ^ 

In  his  first  book,  which  contains  a  summary  oi  th£ 
whole  work,  he  names  the  authors,  both  Greek  and  Latin, 
from  which  the  matter  of  each  book  was  derived.*  Tht 
list  indeed  is  a  surprising  one,  and  of  comparatively  few 
have  we  any  remains.  Among  Roman  authors  he  mosl 
frequently  cites  Cato  the  censor,  M.  Varro,  Celsus,  Cor: 
nelius  Nepos,  Pomponius  Mela,  Columella ;  among  t\\i 
Greeks,  Aristotle,  Theophrastus,  Deraocritus,  more  than 
oneApoUodorus,  Apollonius  of  Pergamum,and  Hippocrates; 
The  Latin  writers  he  calls  simply  "auctores;"  the  Greeks, 
of  whom  the  list  is  considerably  longer,  are  "  externi." 

The  preface,  written  in  a  rather  inflated  and  by  no 
means  clear  style,  very  inferior  to  the  Latinity  of  t\\h 
younger  Pliny,  is  a  dedication  of  the  work  in  a  strain  of 
extravagant  adulation  to  Titus,  who  was  then,  as  Caesar, 
joint  emperor  with  his  father  Vespasian.  Pliny  apologizes 
for  dedicating  to  such  a  man  a  work  of  such  commonplace 
and  hackneyed  subject-matter,  but  he  pleads  the  novelty 
of  the  undertaking,  and  boasts  of  being  the  first  who  had 
attempted  so  comprehensive  a  theme. 

The  w^ork  itself  commences  with  a  pantheistic  definition 
of  the  universe,  Mundus,  i.e.,  world  and  sky,  and  the  sun 
and  stars  in  space.  This,  he  says,  is  reasonably  regarded 
as  a  divinity — eternal,  boundless,  uncreated,  and  inde- 
structible. Nature,  he  adds,  and  Nature's  work  are  one, 
and  to  suppose  there  is  more  than  one  universe  is  to 
believe  there  can  be  more  than  one  Nature, — which  he  calls 
"furor."  His  theology  is  "agnostic,"  or  Epicurean;  if 
there  is  any  God,  he  says,  it  is  vain  to  inquire  His  form 
and  shape  ;  He  is  entirely  a  Being  of  feeling  and  sentiment 
and  intelligence,  not  of  tangible  existence.  He  believes 
in  the  "  religion  of  humauity,"  according  to  a  rather  recen-t 
definition  of  the  idea.  God  is  what  Nature  is ;  God 
cannot  do  what  Nature  cannot  do  ;  He  cannot  kill  Himself, 
nor  make  mortals  immortal,  nor  raise  the  dead  to  life,  nor 
cause  one  who  has  lived  never  to  have  lived  at  all,  or 
make  twice  ten  anything  else  than  twenty.  Tlie  last 
sentence  of  his  work  is  remarkable,  and  is  characteristic  of 
a  pagan  piety  which  takes  Nature  alone  for  its  God : — 
"  Salve,  parens  rerum  omnium  Natura,  teque  nobis  Quiri- 
tium  soils  celebratum  esse  numeris  omnibus  tuis  fave " 
(xxxvii.  205). 

But,'  although  he  regarded  nature  as  one  whole,  of  i\\% 
great  doctrine  of  the  unity  of  nature  and  tl;e  tendency  of 
all  its  operations  to  one  definite  end  Pliny  had  no  correc? 
idea.  He  had  a  great  store  of  ill-digested  knowledge,  no} 
only  imperfect  in  itself,  but  put  together  on  no  con.sistcnj 
plan.  His  style  too  is  forced  and  somewhat  pedantic,  so 
that  to  read  through  and  understand  even  a  single  book  it 
by  no  means  a  light  task. 

To  give  an  outline  sketch  orihi  Natural  History,  it  may  bo  saij 
that  book  ii.  treats  of  earth,  stars,  mcteorics,  and  terrestrial  i>1icik>. 
mena,  such  as  earthquakes,  elevation  of  islands,  &c.  Books  iii.  tg 
vi.  inclusive  are  devoted  to  a  geographical  account  of  the  knowii 

•  He  claims  for  himself  "  ingenium  perquam  mediocre," /Yir/.  §  12. 
His  nephew  (iii.  5,  §  8)  calls  it  "acre,  ingenium,"  which  may  meau 
active  and  energetic. 

*  Hence  he  reckons  the  number  of  books  at  36,  the  subject  bcgni. 
ning  with  Book  ii.  The  matter  of  these,  he  says,  comprising  20,000 
points  worthy  of  attention,  he  has  collect:.d  from  the  perusal  of  aboitt 
2000  books,  and  from  100  Roman  authors  of  special  note  (c.x  e.xqui!>itis 
auctoribus  centum),  Pi^f.  §17.  The  first  book  the  author  regard^ 
as  an  appendix  to  the  dedicatory  letter  or  preface,  "Quia  occupationi- 
bus  tuis  publico  bono  parcendum  erat,  quid  singulis  coiitintretur  libiis 

-tuic^gistula;  suljjviiixu^-y'ia:/  J  32. 


PLINY 


225 


Wjorld,  in  giving  which  tho  author  makes  no  mention  of  Strabo. 
Book  vii.  contains  a  pliysical  treatise  on  man,  his  form,  tlie  laws 
of  his  birth,  age,  mental  qnalities,  &c.  Book  viii.  treats  of  the 
larger  beasts,  as  elephants,  lions,  tigers,  camels,  descending  to 
snakes,  crocodiles,  and  the  smaller  and  domesticated  animals. 
Book  ix.  includes  marine  animala  of  all  kinds,  fishes,  shells, 
crustaceans,  sponges,  &c.  Book  x.  is  on  birds,  xi.  on  insects, — the 
latter  half  being  devoted  to  an  anatomical  description  of  animals 
generally.  Book  xii.  is  on  trees ;  xiu.  on  their  products,  fruit,  gums, 
perfumes,  &c.  ;  xiv.  on  the  grape  and  the  making  of  wine  ;  xv.  on 
the  olive,  fig,  apple,  and  otiier  luscious  fiuits  ;  xvi.  on  forest  trees, 
canes,  and  reeds,  kinds  of  timber,  and  different  ages  of  trees.  Book 
xvii.  treatschiefly  of  the  culture  of  trees,  their  diseases,  and  the  arts 
of  pruning,  manuring,  training,  &c.  Book  xviii.  is  on  farming  and 
cereal  crops  ;  xix,  on  other  kinds  of  produce,  including  horticulture ; 
XX.  on  the  medicinal  properties  of  plants  ;  xxi.  on  flowers,  bees, 
honey,  and  on  botanical  distinctions  as  to  leaves,  thorns,  and  times 
of  flowering.  Book  xxii.  treats  of  all  kinds  of  herbs  used  in  medicine 
and  in  cookery  ;  xxiii.  the  medicinal  properties  of  cultivated  trees  ; 
xxiv.  the  same  of  forest  trees,  and  their  useful  products  generally. 
(These  two  books  are  chiefly  derived  from  Greek  anthorities,  and 
include  the  names  and  properties  of  a  vast  number  of  species.) 
Books  XXV.  to  xxvii.  inclusive  treat  of  the  properties  of  plants,  and 
these  books  also  are  chiefly  from  Greek  sources, — Cornelius  C'elsus 
being  tho  principal  Roman  authority.  Books  xxviii.  to  xxx.  discuss 
the  medicinal  properties  residing  in  animals;  xxxi.  and  xxxii.  those 
in  fishes.  These  books  are  full  of  tho  most  extraordinary  and 
iionsensical  superstitions,  including  discussions  on  magic  in  book 
xxx.  Book  xxxiii.  is  on  the  nature  and  use  of  the  precious  metals  ; 
xxxiv.  on  the  different  kinds  of  bronze,  on  lead,  iron,  and  the 
oxides  generally.  Book  xxxv.  is  .on  tlie  origin  and  practice  of 
painting  ;  xxxvi.  on  the  different  kinds  of  stone  and  marble,  includ- 
ing lime,  sand,  and  gypsum  ;  xxxvii.  on  precious  stones. 

It  will  be  observed  that,  though  there  is  no  scientific  classifica- 
tion in  this  long  work,  a  kind  of  sequence,  not  altogether  unphilo- 
Bophical,  is  observed.  The  amount  of  matter  and  the  number  of 
Bubjects  treated  of  in  each  book  are  always  recorded  at  the  end  of 
the  epitome  (book  i.),  just  before  the  list  of  authors,  in  the 
formula,  "Summa:  reset  historise  et  observationes  mdcvi. "  &c. ; 
but  in  the  medical  books,  in  place  of  res,  "subjects,"  medicinss, 
"prescriptions,"  is  used.  By  histories  he  means  "inquiries,"  or 
"the  results  of  iuauiries,"  as  distinguished  from  observationes, 
"  remarks." 

With  all  its  faults,  inevitable  to  the  infant  state  of 
science,  Pliny's  work  is  an  astounding  monument  of  in- 
dustry. It  is  believed  to  have  been  published  about  two 
years  before  his  deatli.  He  wrote,  besides  several  other 
treatises,'  a  history  of  the  wars  from  the  first  in  Germany, ^ 
in  twenty  iDOok.s,  and  a  continuation  of  the  history  of 
Aufidius  Bas.sus  down  to  his  own  times,  in  thirty-one  books 
—all  now  lost 

He  is  said  to  have  been  a  great  student,  an  eajrly  riser, 
abstemious  and  temperate  in  Jiis  meals.^  In  his  later  days 
he  appears  to  have  grown  somewhat  unwieldy  and  asth- 
matic, for  Pliny  the  younger,  in  describing  his  uncle's 
death  by  suffocation  from  the  fumes  in  the  eruption  of 
Vesuvius,  79  a.d.,  says  that  his  breathing  "propter  ampli- 
tudinom  corporis  gravior  et  sonantior  erat."*  Pliny's 
intimate  friepd.ship  with  Vespasian  may  be  inferred  from 
his  custom  ojf  attendiag  the  morning  levee;  he  seems  to 
have  first  known  him  in  thfe  German  wars  in  the  time  of 
Claudius. 

Besides  his  published  works,  the  elder  Pliny  left,  as  his 
nephew  tells  us,  one  hundred  and  sixty  note-books  of 
extracts  (electorum  commentaries  clx.)^  written  in  a  very 
small  hand  on  both  sides  of  the  page.  So  valuable  were 
these  volumes  considered  that  Pliny  assured  his  nephew 
he  could  have  sold  them  in  Spain  for  £.3500,  even  before 
the  full  number  had  been  made  up.     He.  acted  as  procu- 

'  Tliree  books,  in  six  volumes,  were  entitled  "Studiosu.s, "  and 
eight  books  borcthe  title  "  Dubius  Sermo."  To  this  last  ho  probably 
refers,  Praef.  §  28,  "  audio — Epicureos  quoque  parturire  adversus 
libellos  quos  de  grammatica  edidi." 

^  Bellurum  Gtrmaniaj  visinti  (libri),  quibus  omnia  qua?  cum 
Germanis  gessimus  bclla  collegit  (Hliny,  Ep.  iii.  5,  §  4).  A  trcatisu 
OU'  throwing  the  Innco  from  horseback,  "  Do  jaculntiono  cqucstri," 
is  mentioned  here  as  his  first  work,  writtna  when  he  WM  ia  command 
of  ft  squadron  of  cavalry  (prajfectiis  ate). 

3  Pliny,  Ep.  iii.  5,  §  16  ;  see  ibid.  §S  8-10 

*  Epist.  vi.  16,  §  13. 


rator  in  Spain  in  71,  and  was  recalled  to  Rome  by  the 
death  of  his  brother-in-law  Caius  Caicilius,  who  by  will 
appointed  him  guardian  of  the  younger  Pliny.  At  the 
time  of  his  death,  the  elder- Pliny  had  the  command  of  the 
Roman  fleet  at  Jlisonutn.  He  fell  a  victim  to  his  imprudent 
curiosity  in  advancing  within  the  range  of  the  thickly- 
falling  ashes  during  the  eruption  of  Vesuvius  in' 79  a.d. 

Pliny's  influence  on  the  nomenclature  and  the  popular* 
ideas  about  common  pbjects  long  continued  to  be  verj( 
extensive,  and  survived  till  the  dawn  of  the  age  of  morq 
exact  science.  The  knowledge  he  gives  us  of  the  writings 
and  opinions  of  so  large  a  number  of  lost  authors  opens  a 
view  of  the  whole  cycle  of  the  science  of  the  period. 

The  best  editions  of  the  Natural  History  are  those  by  Julius 
Sillig  (Leipsic,  1831-36,  in  .5  vols.  12mo),  and  by  Louia  Janus 
(Teubner,  Leipsic,  185i-59,  in  6  vols.),  which  is  virtually  a  revised 
reprint  of  it,  the  whole  of  the  last  volume  being  occupied  with 
copious  and  accurate  indices  of  authors  and  subjects.  "These  may 
be  called  critical  editions  ;  two  French  editions  with  scientific  com- 
mentaries had  preceded, -^by  Hardouin  (1685  and  1723),  and  by 
Panckoueke  (1829-33),  in  twenty  volumes  with  a  Freiich  transla- 
tion.. .     (F.  A.  P.) 

PLINY  theToungek  (G1-c.  115  a.d.)  Caius  Cajcilius 
Secundus,  commonly  called  Pliny  the  Ydunger,  was  the 
nephew  and  heir  of  the  elder  .Pliny,  the  naturalist.  He 
was  born  61  a.d.  at  Comum  (Como)  on  the  southern  shore 
of  Lake  Larius  in  northern  Italy,  near  to  which,  on  the 
east  side,  stood  the  spacious  and  beautiful  family  villa.* 
He  took  the  name  of  Caecilius  from  his  father,  who  had 
married  Plinia,  the  elder  Pliny's  sister.  At  ten  years  of  agft 
he  was  left  to  the  care  of  Virginius  Rufus,  a  distinguished 
man  and  thrice  consul." 

Pliny  was  a  man  of  refined  taste,  highly  accomplished, 
devoted  to  literature,  kind  and  indulgent  to  his  freedmen 
and  his  slaves,  gentle  and  considerate  in  all  his  family 
relations,  just  in  his  dealings,  munificent  in  the  use  of  his 
wealth,  humane  and  forgiving  to  all  who  had  offended 
him.'  By  profession  an  advocate,  and  a  aupil  of  the 
famous  Quintilian  (ii.  H),  he  was  a  frequent  and  very 
popular  pleader  at  the  courts  of  the  centumviri  held  in  the 
Julian  basilica,  as  well  as  occasionally  in  the  senate  and  in 
public  prosecutions  (vi.  29). 

His  fame  in  centumviral  trials,  which  were  chiefly  con' 
cerned  with  will  cases,  is  attested  by  Martial-  (x.  19,  17), 
whose  epigratn  he  quotes  in  lamenting  the  poet's  deatl< 
(iii.  21).  But,  though  himself  somewhat  atnbitious  ol 
praise  as  a  pleader  (for  he  seems  to  have  regarded  .Cicerd 
as  his  model  in  everything),  he  sternly  reproved  tho  arts 
of  bribery  and  flattery  which  were  commonly  adopted  by 
patrons  to  secure  thn  applause  of  their  clients.  "  Fo| 
half-a-crown  a  hea^  ho  complains,  "you  may  fill  tha 
benches  with  any  number  of  shoutors  and  bawlers  of  youi 
praises."  Fond  as  he  was  of  eloquence,  ho  seems  to  havi 
given  up  legal  practice  from  some  feeling  of  disgust  a' 
these  abuses,  and  to  have  devoted  himself  to  the  duties  o{ 
the  state-offices.  He  was  appointed  augur  and  pra;fect  ot 
the  treasury  in  the  temple  of  Saturn,  and  rose  in  dug 
course  through  the  oflices  of  quKstor,  pr;ctor,  and  tribuna 
of  the  people,  finally  attaining  to  the  consulship,  100  a.d{ 
His  inaugural  address  to  the  emperor  Trajan,  a  loud 
and  finished  but  rather  pedantic  oration  in  Ciceroniaij 
■ 1 

"  "  Quid  agit  Comum,  tua;  mctequc  dellcio!  ? "  ho  writes  to  Caiiiniut 
Rufus,  Ep.  i.  3.  Ho  had  several  country  houses  on  this  estate  (pluron 
villa!,  Ep.  ix.  7).  Two  of  these,  his  especial  favouritea,  ho  pinylully 
called  "  Tragedy  and  Comedy,"  comparing  the  low  end  the  loftv  sit<) 
to  the  soccus  and  the  cothurnus  of  tho  actors. 

•  Pliny  speaks  of  him  with  great  regard  in  it  ,1,  §  8j— :*llle  niihi 
tutor  rclictus  adfectum  parentis  cxhibuit." 

'  His  motto  was  "to  pardon  others  as  if  ono  dirily  needed  pnnlon 

oneself,  and  to  abstain  from  sins  as  if  one  viewed  sin  as  unpanlonable," 

viii.  22.     In  Ep.  2  of  tho  same  book  he  finely  say.-*,  "  Mihi  rgrogium 

in  priniis  videtur,  «t  foris  ita  douii,  ut  in  iiiagnis  ita  in  pnrvia   ul  in 

.alicuiS  ita  in  suis,  agilarc  justitiaiu." 

XIX.  —  29 


22G 


PLINY 


Latinity,  entitled  Panegyricw,  is  extant.* ""  The' good 
old  custom,"  he  says  in  his  opening  sentence,  "of  com- 
mencing all  public  business  with  prayers  to  the  gods  is 
especially  to  be  observed  by  a  consul,  and  on  an  occasion 
of  offering  public  thanks  to  the  best  of  princes  by  the 
command  of  the  senate  and  the  state."  The  piece  teaches 
us  a  good  deal  about  the  imperial  policy  and  the  military 
'career  of  Trajan  (§§  13-16). 

Between  Pliny  and  Trajan  the  sincerest  regard  and  even 
affection  seem  to  have  subsisted.  In  the  last  book  of  the 
Epistles,  vfbich  contains  a  hundred  and  twenty-one  letters 
and  replies  on  matters  of  business  connected  with  the  pro- 
vince between  Pliny  and  the  emperor,  the  latter  is  always 
addressed  as  "  Domine  "  (sire),  the  former  as  "  Secunde  (or 
mi  Secunde)  carissime."  Most  of  these, were  written  by 
Pliny  as  propraetor  (103-5)  of  Bithynia  and  Pontica,  and 
they  show  the  careful  interest  taken  in  the  welfare  and  pro- 
sperity of  the  cities  under  his  charge.  The  replies  of  the 
emperor  are  characteristically  brief ;  they  are  written  in 
'jood  and  literary  Latin,  and  show  Trajan  to  have  been  a 
man  of  letters  as  well  as  a  man  of  business.  Pliny's 
celebrated  inquiry  what  should  be  done  with  recusant 
Christians,  in  which  he  says  -  that  "  not  only  cities  but 
country  towns  and  rural  districts  have  been  touched  by 
the  contagion  of  this  superstition,"  is  briefly  replied  to.; 
"  conquirendi  non  sunt,"  writes  the  emperor,  "si  defer- 
antur  et  arguantur,  puniendi  sunt,  ita  tamen  ut  qui 
negaverit  se  Christianum  esse,  idque  re  ipsa  manifestum 
fecerit,  id  est  supplicando  dis  nostris,  quamvis  suspectus 
in  prseteritum,  veniam  ex  pcenitentia  impetret."  Pliny 
had  said  : — "  Those  who  obstinately  persisted  that  they 
were  Christians,  after  being  warned  of  the  consequence,  I 
ordered  to  be  led  off  to  punishment,  not  doubting  that, 
whatever  it  was  that  they  professed,  their  inflexible 
obstinacy  deserved  it."  Doubts  have  even  been  raised  as 
to  the  genuineness  of  a  passage  which  appears  so  inconsist- 
ent with  the  established  Roman  policy  of  tolerating  every 
superstitio.  But  it  is  clear  that  what  Pliny  doubted  was 
the  fidelity  to  the  emperor  of  those  who  refused  to  make 
the  customary  religious  offerings  to  his  statue.  It  was 
zeal  for  loyalty  that  led  him  into  a  course  which  his 
humane  nature  condemned.^ 

Pliny  was  tmce  married,  but  had  no  children.  The 
emperor  bestowed  on  him  the  jus  trium  liberorum,  which 
conferred  certain"  state  privileges  upon  those  who  brought 
up  that  number  of  legitimate  children  to  become  Eoman 
citizens.  Three  affectionate  letters,  none  of  them  long, 
are  addressed  to  his  second  wife  Calpurnia  Hispulla. 

In  health  Pliny  seems  to  have  been  far  from  robust. 
He  speaks  of  his  slight  and  thin  figure,  "  gracilitas  mea,"  ^ 
though  in  his  youth  he  had  seen  military  service  in  the 
East.^  He  was  fond  too  of  hunting,  but  used  to  boast 
that  he  combined  the  worship  of  Diana  with  that  of 
Minerva.® 

Pliny's  great  wealth  was  most  liberally  bestowed,  both 
privately  and  publicly.  He  undertakes  to  rebuild  a  temple 
of  Ceres  on  his  estate,  entirely  at  his  own  cost,  with  a 

'  He  alludes  to  it  in  iii.  13,  and  in  ill.  18  he  explains  how  the 
Kddress  in  the  senate  was  afterwards  expanded  into  a  book,  and 
recited  for  three  consecutive  daj's  to  his  friends.  The  title  Panegyricus 
oppears  tlien  to  have  been  given  to  it. 

'  X.  96,  §  9. 

'  The  context  shows  that  he  had  some  suspicion  that  the  Christiana 
were  forming  secret  and  illegal  societies  (hctieriae,  §  8).  This  is  his 
only  excuse  for  having  put  two  deaconesses  (ministrx)  to  the  torture, 
to  find  out  what  thev  really  held. 

*  ii.  11,  §  15.  »  iii.  11,  §  5. 

•  ix.  10.  In  i.  6  he  gives  a  droll  account  of  his  hunting  wild  boars, 
and  reading  books  while  the  beaters  were  at  work  :  "ad  retia  sede- 
bam  ;  erat  in  proximo  non  venabulum  aut  lancea,  sed  stilus  et  pugil- 
lares ;  meditabar  aliquid  euotabamque,  ut  si  mauus  vacuas  plenas 
tamen  ceras  reportarem." 


new  statue  and  the  addition  of  a  portico,  with  walls  and 
floor  decorated  with  marbles.^  To  his  friend  Eomatiua 
Firmus,  a  fellow-townsman,  he  writes^  that  in  order  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  an  eques  he  offers  £2500 
to  make  up  the  equestrian  census.  To  Calvina,  in  addi- 
tion to  nearly  £1000  which  he  had  given  her  as  a  marriage 
portion,  he  offers  to  remit  the  whole  of  the  mortgage  debt 
on  an  encumbered  estate  which  she  had  inherited  from  her 
father.  He  founded  and  endowed  with  landed  property 
an  almshouse  for  people  of  free  birth  of  both  sexes.*  He 
presented  his  nurse  with  a- farm  worth  nearly  £1000 ;  ^^  he 
gave  fifty  sestertia  ii  as  a  marriage  present  to  the  daughter 
of  his  tutor  Quintilian ;  he  gave  up  to  the  township  of 
Comum  a  sum  of  about  £3500,  which,  having  been  illeg- 
ally left  to  it  by  Saturninus,  Pliny,  as  his  heir,  could  have 
claimed  for  himself, — and  this  in  addition  to  over  £10,000 
which  he  had  already  given  to  the  same  township.  He 
generously  returned  a  large  percentage  of  the  sum  he  had 
sold  his  vintage  for,  when  the  produce  had  been  found  to 
disappoint  the  purchasers. '^  In  a  beautiful  letter  to 
Sabinianus  '^  he  kindly  intercedes  for  a  libertus  with  whom 
his  friend  was  offended.  In  a  word,  the  letters  are  full  of 
acts  of  Pliny's  goodness  and  generosity,  and  these  are  not 
boastfully  expressed,  but  rather  with  the  view  of  inciting 
others  by  his  example. 

There  are  few,  if  indeed  any,  remains  of  Roman  prose  literature 
which  are  as  elegant,  as  interesting,  and  as  varied  as  Pliny'a  Lellers. 
They  were  evidently  written  and  published'*  on  the  model  and 
precedent  of  Cicero's  Letters.  They  are  all  carefully  com\)Osed, 
and  couched  in  the  most  graceful  and  polished  Latinity.  The  first 
letter  is  a  reply  to  a  friend,  Septicius,  who  had  ofton  requested 
Pliny  to  collect  and  publish  his  more  carefully  written  correspond- 
ence,— "si  quaspaullo  curatius  scripsisset. "  An  admircrof  nature, 
and  with  the  faculty  for  observatiou  perhaps  learntfrom  his  uncle,  he 
sometimes  describes,  and  in  the  most  beautiful  language,  the  scenes 
or  wonders  he  had  visited."  Of  his  spacious  and  beautiful  villas  in 
Tuscany  and  at  Laurentum  he  has  given  full  and  detailed  accounts, 
which  are  of  especial  value  as  almost  the  sole  authority  on  the 
difficult  subject  of  Roman  houses."  The  Tuscan  estate  appears  to 
have  been  his  favourite  residence.  In  reply  to  his  friend  Fuscus 
(1.1.  36)  he  gives  a  pleasing  account  of  the  daily  life  and  studies  of 
a  refined  and  temperate  man,  and  a  considerate  countiy  gentleman, 
neighbour,  and  landlord.  Of  the  eruption  of  Vesuvius  in  79  a.d.  , 
and  the  death  of  his  uncle,  he  gives  a  minute  and  evidently  faithful 
account  as  an  eye-witness.  This  is  contained  in  two  long  letters  " 
to  his  friend  Tacitus  the  historian.  Two  excellent  ghost-stories  are 
given,''  and  a  letter  to  Tacitus  on  the  omens  of  dreams  "  shows  that 
both  the  friends  had  considerable  credulity  on  this  subject. 

Like  Cicero,  but  not  so  frequently,  Pliny  occasionally^"  "  venti- 
lates "  his  Greek,  and  he  tells  us  that  at  the  age  of  fourteen  he 
wrote  a  Greek  tragedy,  adding  jocosely,  "  qualem  ?  inquis  :  nescio  ; 
tragoedia  vocabatur  "  (vii.  4,  §  2).  Like  Cicero  too,  he  was  fond  of 
art ;  he  describes  with  enthusiasm  "  a  Corinthian  bronze  statuette 
which  he  had  just  purchased  out  of  a  legacy  received. 

As  a  writer  Pliny  tlie  younger  is  as  graceful,  fluent,  and  polished 
as  the  style  of  the  elder  Pliny  is  crabbed  and  obscure.  Indeed,  the 
Latinity  of  the  epistles  cannot  fairly  be  called  inferior  to  that  of 
Cicero  himself.     There  are  few  indications  of  the  "  deterioration  " 


'  ix.  39.  A  similar  offer  is  made  to  Trajan,  including  the  dedicar 
tiou  of  his  statue,  E}).  PI.  el  Tr.,  -8. 

8  i.  19.  »  vii.  18.  "  vi.  3. 

"  About  £430,  vi.  32.  ^    "  viii.  2. 

".  ix.  21.  "  Tunc  prwcipua  mansuetudin!:  laus,"  he  well  says,  "  cum 
irje  causa  justissinia  est." 

"  Kcil  (Prie/.  to  ed.  Teuhner,  1865,  p.  1)  quotes  Sidonius  ApoUi- 
naris,  Epist.  ix.  1,  to  show  that  nine  books  of  his  Letters  were  edited 
by  Pliny  himself. 

'5  E.g.,  the  sources  of  the  Clitumnus,  viii.  8,  and  the  floating 
islands  on  a  lake  at  Ameria,  viii.  20. 

'°  See  ii.  17  and  v.  6.      Tlie  tormer  describes  in  glewing  terms  the 
Laurentian  villa,  though  he  says  of  it  in  iv.  6,   "nihil  ibi  possideo 
praeter  tectum  et  hortum,  scatimque  h.irenas";  but  he  is  comparing 
the  extent  of  other  landed  properties. 
■  "  vi.  16  and  20.  's>ii.-27. 

"  i.  18.  It  is  clear  from  Ann.  vi.  2S  that  Tacitus  liad  some  belief 
in  astrology.  Pliny  the  elder  wrote  his  history  of  the  German  wars 
"somnio  monitus,"  E}).  iii.  5,  §  4. 

=»  E.g.  in  i.  18  and  20  ;  ii.  3  ;  iv.  7  ;  ix.  26. 

''  iii.  6.  He  says,  however  (§  1),  that  in  bronzes  he  was  not  much 
of  a  critic  :  _"  in  hac  re  certo  perquam  exiguum  sapio. " 


P  L  O  — P  L  O 


227 


(if  process  and  development  in  a  Uugaage  onght  tto  to  he  called) 
of  tbe  Silver  Age."  That  he  imitated  Cicero  botli  in  his  style 
and  hie  eloquence  is  avowed  by  himself.'  As  a  friend  of  Tacitus, 
•whom  he  often  mentions,  he  predicts  the  "immortality"  of  the 
books  of  hi»  history,  and  he  even  proffered  his  services  in  reading 
Tacitus's  MS3.'  He  writes  also  to  Suetonius  and  to  Cornelius 
Nepos,  the  latter  of  whom  he  speaks  of  aa  "vir  gravissimus, 
doctissimus,  disertissimus ; "  the  former  he  praises  to  Trajan,'  in 
:asking  for  him  the  }us  trium  liberarum,  as  "  probissimum  honestis- 
simum  eruditissimum  virum. " 

Pliny's  Epistles  were  first  primed  In  1471,  but  Incomplete,  fts  was  the  Aldtne 
«dUlon  of  1608.  A  full  arcounl  of  the  MSS.  and  editions  is  given  by  H.  Kuil  In 
his  preface ; -among  tlie  best  editions  of  Iat«r  times  are  thst  of  Coitins,  piililislicd 
In  1734  ;  after  his  death  that  of  G.  H.  Sch«efer  (who  reprinted  with  corrections, 
in  1805,  the  text  of  Gesner  and  Glerig,  l.-^OO),  and  that  of  .Maurice  Doei  Ing,  lS-13. 
The  latest  and  beat  is  the  Teubncr  text  of  U.  Keil  (Leipsic,  1865,  12mo), 
with  full  Indices  and  brief  lutroductoiy  notice  of  the  most  important  different 
readings.  (F.  A.  P.) 

,  PLOCK  (Plotsk),  a  government  of  Russian  Poland,  on 
the  right  bank  of  the  Vistula,  having  the  provinces  of 
Western  and  Eastern  Prussia  on  the  north,  and  the  Polish 
provinces  of  iomza  on  the  east  and  Warsaw  on  the  south ; 
its  area  is  4200  square  miles.  Its  flat  surface,  350  to  500 
feet  above  the  sea-level,  gently  rises  towards  the  north, 
where  it  merges  in  the  Baltic  coast-ridge  of  the  Prussian 
lake  district.  Only  a  few  hills  reach  600  feet  above  the 
sea,  while  the  broad  valley  of  the  Vistula  has  an  elevation 
of  but  130  to  150  feet.  In  the' west — district  of  Lipno — 
broad  terraces  covered  with  forests,  small  lakes,  and  ponds, 
and  very  poor  in  vegetation,  descend  from  the  Baltic  lake- 
district  towards  the  plains  of  Ptock ;  and  in  the  central 
■district  of  Mtawa  extensive  marshes  cover  the  upper  basin 
of  the  Wkra.  The  Vistula  border^  the  province  on  the 
aouth,  almost  from  Warsaw  to  Thorn,  receiving  the  Skrwa 
and  Wkra,  which  last  rises  on  the  Prussian  frontier,  and, 
flowing  south-east,  joins  the  Narew  close  to  its  confluence 
with  the  Vistula,^  in  the  south-eastern  corner  of  PtocK. 
The  Drw§ca,  or  Drewenz,  flows  along  the  north-west 
boundary  of  Ptock,  while  several  small  tributaries  of  the 
Narew  water  the  north-eastern  district  of  Ciechanow. 
Petty  lakes  and  ponds  dot  the  plains  in  the  west,  and 
the  whole  country  bears  traces  of  a  very  wide  exten- 
sion of  lakes  during  the  post-Glacial  period.  Peat-bogs, 
used  of  late  for  fuel,  and  marshes  containing  bog-iron,  fill 
many  depressions  in  the  north,  while  the  more  elevated 
parts  of  the  plains  are  covered  with  fertile  clays,  or  a  kind 
of  "black-earth."  Lacustrine  post  Glacial  deposits  cover 
all  depressions  in  the  thick  sheet  of  boulder  clay,  with 
Scandinavian  erratic  boulders,  which  extends  everywhere 
over  the  Tertiary  sands  and  marls, — these  last  containing 
masses  of  silicatcd  wood  and  lignite.  Layers  of  gypsum 
are  found  in  the  hills  on  the  Vistula.  The  soil  is  very 
fertile  in  several  parts  of  the  province,  especially  in  the 
district  of  Lipno  and  closer  to  the  Vistula,  and  agriculture 
is  the  chief  occupation  of  the  inhabitants  even  in  the 
towns.  The  chief  crops  are,  however,  rye,  oats,  and 
barley ;  but  wheat  gives  good  crops  in  some  parts  of 
the  province ;  beetroot  is  also  cultivated  for  sugar,  especi- 
ally on  the  great  estates  of  the  west,  where  machinery 
finds  application  to  agriculture  on  a  large  scale;  in  the 
north  the  property  is  much  divided,  and  the  szlachla- 
landholders,  very  numerous  in  Ciechanow,  are  far  from 
prosperous.  The  average  crops  of  lato  years  may  bo 
valued  at  1,700,000  quarters  of  corn  and  1,575,000 
quarters  of  potatoes.  The  forests,  which  formerly  covered 
very  extensive  tracts,  are  much  destroyed  now,  but  still 
Ptock  is  one  of  the  best  wooded  provinces  of  Poland. 

The  population  of  the  province  of  Ptock,  which  was  but  400,950 
in  1873,  reached  638,150  in  1881,  and  must  be  now  about  557,000. 
It  is  Polish  throughout,  but  contains  a  largo  admixture  of  Jews 
(more  than  H  per  cent.)  and  of  Germans,  the  number  of  whom  is 
yearly  increasing.     Besides  agriculture,  the  inhabitants  find  a  per- 

'  or-  i-  6,  §  12;  iv.  8,  §4.  ~ 

'  See  vii.  20;  viii.  7  ;  vii.  33,  §  1  ;  ix    1 1. 
•  JSv.  PI.  et  TraJ.   9i.. 


ttianent  sonrce  of  occupation  in  shipping  on  the  Vistula,  some 
mining,  and  various  domestic  trades,  such  as  the  fabiicalion  of 
wooden  cars,  sledges,  and  wheels,  and  textile  industry.  The  whole 
value  of  manufactures  in  1879  was  £211,000  (flour  mills  £68,900, 
saw-mills  £17,500,  sugar  works  £45,700,  and  iron  works  £32,200), 
and  1750  hands  were  employed.  There  is  some  export  trade, 
especially  in  the  Lijnio  district ;  but  its  develo)micnt  is  limited  by 
the  lack  of  facilities  of  communication,  the  best  being  those  olfered 
by  the  Vistula.  The  railway  from  Warsaw  to  Dantzic,  nVi  Ciechanow 
and  Mtawa,  will  now  help  the  eastern  part  of  the  province. 

Since  the  Prussian  occupation,  and  perhaps  under  the  inflncnco 
of  Prussian  neighbourhood,  the  province  of  Ptock  is  somewhat 
better  sujinlicd  with  primary  scliools,  especially  in  its  northern 
districts,  than  other  provinces  of  Poland  ;  still  there  are  only  272 
primary  schools  (exclusive  of  the  Jewish  holers),  with  15,000 
scholars.  There  are  two  colleges  for  boys  and  girls,  and  one  semi- 
nary for  teachers  at  AVymysty. 

The  province  is  divided  into  eight  districts,  the  chief  towns  of 
which  are  Ptock  (22,1-10  inhabitants),  Ciechanow  (5800),  Lipno 
(5650),  Mtawa  (10,050),  Plonsk  (6350),  Przasnysz  (7200),  Rypin 
{3350),  and  Sierpce  (6850).  Novogeoi-gievsk,  or  Modlin,  on  the 
Vistula,  12  mUes  below  its  confluence  with  the  Narew,  is  a  fortress 
of  the  fii-st  rank  ;  Wyszgorod  (4400)  has  considerable  trade  in  com. 

History. — After  the  second  dismemberment  of  Poland  in  1793, 
what  is  now  the  government  of  Ptock  became  part  of  Prussia.  It 
fell  under  Russian  dominion  after  the  treaty  of  Vienna,  and,  in  the 
division  of  that  time  into  five  provinces,  extended  over  the  western 
part  of  the  present  province  of  tomza,  which  was  created  in  1864 
from  the  Ostrolenka  and  Pultusk  districts  of  Ptock  together  with 
parts  of  the  province  of  Augustowo. 

PLOCK,  capital  of  the  above  province,  is  situated  on 
the  right  bank  of  the  Vistula,  GO  miles  to  the  west-north- 
west of  Warsaw.  It  is  well  built  of  stone  on  a  high  hill 
facing  the  river,  and  has  an  ancient  cathedral.  It  is  now 
of  importance  only  as  the  seat  of  the  provincial  adminis- 
tration; and  its  population,  which  is  partly  agricultural, 
increases  very  slowly.  In  May  1883  it  had  19,640  inhabit- 
ants, of  whom  7135  were  Jews  and  about  450  Germans. 
The  Russian  garrison  numbered  2500.  Ptock  has  two 
colleges  for  boys  and  girls,  with  864  male  and  496  female 
scholars,  and  twelve  primary  schools  (exclusive  of  •  the 
Jewish  heders),  with  890  scholars.  Its  manufactures  are 
insignificant  (not  above  100,000  roubles  yearly),  and  there 
is  some  trade  in  agricultural  produce. 

PLOTINUS.     See  Neoplatonism,  vol.  xvii.  p.  335  sq. 

PLOUGH.     See  AoiticnLTURE,  vol.  i.  p.  311. 

PLOVER,  French  Pluiner,  Old  French  Plovier,  which 
doubtless  has  its  origin  in  the  Latin  plmna,  rain  (as 
witness  the  German  equivalent  Reyenpfeifer,  Rain-fifer) ; 
but  the  connexion  of  ideas  between  the  words  therein 
involved,  so  that  the  former  should  have  become  a  bird's 
name,  is  doubtful.  Belon  (1555)  says  that  the 'name 
riuvier  is  bestowed  "  pour  ce  qu'on  Ic  prcnd  micux  en 
temps  pluvieux  qu'  en  nulle  autre  saison,"  which  is  not  in 
accordance  with  modern  observation,  for  in  rainy  weather 
Plovers  are  ^vilder  and  harder  to  approach  than  in  fine. 
Others  have  thought  it  is  from  the  spotted  (as  though  with 
rain-drops)  upper  plumage  of  two  of  the  commonest  species 
of  Plovers,  to  which  the  name  especially  belongs — the 
Charadrius  pluvialis  of  Linnaius,  or  Golden  Plover,  and 
the  Squalarota  helvetica  of  recent  ornithologists,  or  Grey 
Plover.  Both  these  birds  are  very  similar  in  general 
appearance,  but  the  latter  is  the  larger  and  has  an  aborted 
hind-toe  on  each  foot.''  Its  axillary  feathers  are  also  black, 
while  in  the  Golden  Plover  they  are  jmre  white,  and  this 
difference  often  affords  a  ready  means  of  di.stinguishing  the 
two  species  when  on  the  wing,  even  at  a  considerable 
distance.  The  Grey  Plover  is  a  bird  gf  almost  circum- 
polar  ran^e,  breeding  in  the  far  north  of  America,  Asia, 
and  eastern  Eurbpe,  frcqucnliug  in  spring  and  autumn  tlio 
coasts  of  the  more  temperate  parts  of  each  continent,  and 
generally  retiring  further  southward  in  winter — examples 


*  Hut  for  tills  really  uiiiiiipurtant  diitinction  both  birds  could 
doubtless  have  been  kept  by  ornithologists  In  the  same  genus,  for 
they  agree  in  most  other  structural  charactem.  As  it  is  they  have  long 
been  sundered. 


223 


P  L  U  —  P  L  tJ 


not  anfrequently  reaching  the  Cape  Colony,  Ceylon, 
Australia,  and  even  Tasmania.  Charadrius  pluvialis  has 
b  much  narrower  distribution,  though  where  it  occurs  it  is 
much  more  numerous  as  a  species.  Its  breeding  quarters 
do  not  extend  further  than  from  Iceland  to  western  Siberia, 
but  include  the  more  elevated  tracts  in  the  British  Islands, 
whence  in  autumn  it  spreads  itself,  often  in  immense  flocks, 
over  the  cultivated  districts  if  the  fields  be  sufficiently 
open.  Here  some  will  remain  so  long  as  the  absence  of  frost 
or  snow  permits,  but  the  majority  make  for  the  Mediter- 
ranean basin,  or  the  countries  beyond,  in  which  to  winter ; 
and,  as  with  the  Grey  Plover,  stragglers  find  their  way  to 
the  southern  extremity  of  Africa.  The  same  may  be  said, 
■mutatis  mutandis,  of  what  are  usually  deemed  to  be  two 
other  cognate  forms,  C.  virginicus  and  C.  fulvus,  which 
respectively  represent  C.  pluvialis  in  America  and  eastern 
Asia,  where  they  are  also  known  by  the  same  English  name. 
The  discrimination  of  these  two  birds  from  one  another 
requires  a  very  acute  eye,  and  room  is  here  wanting  in 
which  to  specify  the  minute  points  in  which  they  differ ; ' 
but  both  are  easily  distinguished  from  their  European  ally 
by  their  smaller  size,  their  greyish-brown  axillary  feathers, 
and  their  proportionally  longer  and  more  slender  legs.  All, 
however, — and  the  same  is  the  case  with  the  Grey  Plover, 
— undergo  precisely  the  same  seasonal  change  of  colour, 
greatly  altering  their  appearance  and  equally  affecting  both 
sexes.  In  the  course  of  spring  or  early  summer  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  lower  plumage  from  the  chin  to  the  vent,  which 
during  winter  has  been  nearly  pure  white,  becomes  deep 
black.  This  is  partly  due  to  the  growth  of  new  feathers, 
but  partly  to  some  of  the  old  feathers  actually  changing 
their  colour,  though  the  way  in  which  the  alteration  is 
brought  about  is  still  uncertain."  A  corresponding  alteration 
is  at  the  same  season  observable  in  the  upper  plumage ;  but 
this  seems  chiefly  due  (as  in  many  other  birds)  to  the  shed- 
ding of  the  lighter-coloured  margins  of  the  feathers,  and 
does  not  produce  so  complete  a  transformation  of  appear- 
ance, though  the  beauty  of  the  wearer  is  thereby  greatly 
increased. 

Though  the  birds  just  spoken  of  are  those  most  emphati- 
cally entitled  to  be  called  Plovers,  the  group  of  Ringed 
Plovers  before  mentioned  (Killdeer,  vol.  xiv.  p.  76)  and 
the  Lapwing  (vol.  xiv.  p.  308),  with  its  allies,  have, 
according  to  usage,  hardly  less  claim  to  the  name,  which 
is  also  e.\tended  to  some  other  more  distant  forms  that  can 
here  have  only  the  briefest  notice.  Among  them  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  is  the  "  Zickzack  "  (so  called  from  its 
cry)— the  rpoxiKo's  of  Herodotus  (see  Humming-Birp,  vol. 
xh.  p.  358,  n.  3),  ttie  Pluvianus  or  Hyas  xgyptius  of 
ornithologists,  celebrated  for  -the  services  it  is  said  to 
render  to  the  crocodile — a  small  bird  whose  plumage  of 
delicate  lavender  and  cream-colour  is  relieved  by  markings 
of  black  and  white.  This  probably  belongs  to  the  small 
section  generally  known  as  Coursers,  Cursorius,  of  which 
some  eight  or  ten  species  inhabit  the  deserts  of  Africa  and 
India,  while  one,  C.  galliots,  occasionally  strays  to  Europe 
and  even  to  England.  Allied  to  them  are  the  curious 
Pratincoles  (?.».),  also  peculiar  to  the  Old  World,  while 

'  Schlegel  (Miis.  Pays-Das,  Cursores,  p.  63)  states  taat  in  some 
examples  it  seems  impossible  to  determine  t'je  form  to  which  they 
helong ;  but  ordinarily  American  specimens  .ire  rather  liirger  and 
stouter,  and  have  shorter  toes  than  those  from  Asia. 
•  '  It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  ornithologists  favourably  sitH^'«d 
in  regard  to  zoological  gardens  ha\e  not  more  extensively  used  o;ipor- 
timities  which  might  thus  be  accorded  to  them  of  conducting  useful 
observations  on  this  subject  and  others  of  similar  kind.  Elsewhere  it 
would  be  hardly  possible  to  carry  on  such  an  investigation,  and  even 
under  the  best  circumstances  it  would  not  be  easy  and  would  require 
unremitting  attention.  The  results  of  some  p.artial  observations 
»u))erintende>l  by  Yarrell  in  the  gardens  of  the  Zoological  Society  of 
tendon  are  given  in  its  Transactions  (i.  pp.  13-19).  Little  has  been 
ione  tbere  eiuce  of  this  nature. 


the  genera  Thinocoris  and  Attagis  form  an  ->ul"ving  group 
peculiar  to  South  America,  that  is  by  some  syctematista 
regarded  as  a  separate  Family  Thiriocoridx,  near  which  are 
often  placed  the  singular  Sheathbills  {q.v:).  By  nost 
authorities  the  Stone-Curlews  (Corlew,  vol.  vi.  p.  Ill), 
the  Oyster-catchers  (vol.  xviii.  p.  Ill),  and  TuRNSTorFJ 
(q.v.)  are  also  regarded  as  belonging  to  the  Family  Char- 
adriidse,  and  some  would  add  the  Avocets  (Recurvirostra) 
and  Stilts  {q.v.),  among  which  the  Cavalier,  Dromus 
ardeola — a  form  that  has  been  bandied  about  from  one 
Family  and  even  Order  to  another — should  possibly  find 
its  resting-place.  It  frequents  the  sandy  shores  of  the 
Indian  Ocean  and  Bay  of  Bengal  from  Natal  to  Aden, 
and  thence  to  Ceylon,  the  Malabar  coast,  and  the  Andaman 
and  Nicobar  Islands, — a  white  and  black  bird,  mounted  on 
long  legs,  with  webbed  feet,  and  a  bill  so  shaped  as  t« 
have  made  some  of  the  best  ornithologists  lodge  it  among 
the  Terxs  (q.v.). 

Though  the  various  forms  here  spoken  of  as  Plovers  are 
almost  certainly  closely  allied,  they  must  be  regarded  as 
constituting  a  very  indefinite  group,  for  hardly  any  strong 
line  of  demarcation  can  be  drawn  between  them  and  the 
Sandpipers  and  Snipes  (q.v.).  United,  however,  with 
both  of  the  latter,  under  the  name  of  Limicolx,  after  th« 
method  approved  by  the  most  recent  systematists,  the 
whole  form  an  assemblage  the  compactness  of  which  ne 
observant  ornithologist  can  hesitate  to  admit,  even  if  he  be 
not  inclined  to  treat  as  its  nearest  relations  the  Bustards 
on  the  one  hand  and  the  Gaviss  on  the  other,  as  before 
suggested  (Ornithology,  vol.  xviii.  p.  45).  (a.  n.) 

PLiJCKER,  Julius  (lSOl-1868),  mathematician  and 
physicist,  was  born  at  Elberfeld  on  the  16th  June  1801. 
After  being  educated  at  the  gymnasium  at  Dusseldorf  and 
studying  at  the  universities  of  Bonn,  Heidelberg,  and 
Berlin,  he  went  in  1823  for  a  short  time  to  Paris,  where 
he  came  under  the  influence  of  the  great  school  of  Frencl 
geometers,  whose  founder,  Monge,  was  only  recently  dead 
and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  his  intercourse  with  th» 
mathematicians  of  that  school,  more  particularly  wit* 
Poncelet  and  Gergonne,  greatly  helped  to  determine  the 
earlier  part  at  least  of  his  career.  In  1825  he  was 
received  as  "  privat-docent  "  at  Bonn,  and  after  three  years 
he  was  made  professor  extraordinary.  The  title  of  hi.» 
"  habilitationsschrift,"  Generalem  analyseos  applicationen 
ad  ea  quse  geometrix  altioris  et  mechanicx  basis  et  fundor 
menta  sunt  e  serie  Tayloria  deducit  Julius  PlUcker  (Bonn, 
1824),  indicated  the  course  of  his  future  researches.  The 
mathematical  influence  of  Monge  had  two  sides  representee 
respectively  by  his  two  great  works,  the  Geomitrie  Descrip 
live  and  the  Application  de  I'Analyse  d,  la  Geomeirit 
Although  fully  master  of  those  general  ideas  of  moderi 
geometry  whose  development  began  with  the  publicatioi 
of  the  former  of  these  works,  Plucker's  actual  labours  laj 
more  in  the  direction  of  the  latter.  It  was  his  aim  tc 
furnish  modern  geometry  with  «uitable  analytical  methods 
and  thus  to  give  it  an  independent  analytical  development 
In  this  efl'ort  he  was  as  successful  as  were  his  great  con 
temporaries  Poncelet  and  Steiner  in  cultivating  geometry 
in  its  purely  synthetical  form.  From  his  lectures  arc 
researches  at  Bonn  sprang  his  first  great  work  Analytisclo 
Geometrische  Entunckelungen.(\o\.  i.   1828,  vol.  ii.  1831) 

In  the  first  volume  of  this  treatise  Pliicker  introduced  for  tli, 
first  time'  the  method  of  abridged  notation  which  has  become  om 
of  the  characteristic  features  of  modern  analytical  geometry.  Th« 
peculiarity  of  this  method  consists  in  this,  that  the  Setters  used  it 
the  equations  of  curves  and  surfaces  represent,  not  coordinates  of  t 
jioint  with  respect  to  arbitrary  chosen  axes,  but  straight  lines,  o) 
It  may  bo  curves  or   surfaces,  intrinsically  rdatej   to   tho   fig<:r« 

'  The  independent  development  of  a  similar  idea  by  the  Lrilli.inl 
young  French  geometer  BoWUicr  (1797-1832)  Wis  cut  short  bj-  lii» 
premature  death. 


F  L  U  C  K  E  R 


22i) 


Uniter  disoussio.i.  Fov  «T:>.mn.'«,  if  it  be  wished  to  investigate 
the  properties  of  a  oiiiic  .vet-on  with  respect  to  a  pair  of  tangents 
and  their  chord  of  contact,  wo  AV'io  its  equation  uv  +  tv-^0,  where 
«  =  0,  «-=0,  w  =  0  rc^.ves-'.ni  thrf  t.vo  tangents  and  the  chord  of 
contact  resoectively.  This  procet'jrs  has  two  gi-eat  advantages. 
It  enables  us  to  greatly  abridge  the  .iccessary  analytical  equations, 
lo  arrive  at  them  moro  easily,  and  ihus  to  lighten  or  altogether 
avoid  the  cumbersomu  algebraical  calculations  which  had  broken 
the  back  oftho  old-fashioned  Carteson  geometry  and  arrested  its 
progress  altogether ;  and  it  greatl)'  facilitates  the  geometrical 
interpretation  of  analytical  results  whether  intermediate  or  final. 
In  the  first  volume  of  tho  Enlioickdun'jcn,  Pliickcr  applied  tlie 
method  of  abridged  notation  to  the  straight  line,  circle,  and  conic 
sections,  and  he  subsequently  used  it  with  great  effect  in  many  of 
his  researches,  notably  in  his  theory  of  cubic  curves. 

In  tho  second  volume  of  the  Entwickelungcn,  Pliicker  clearly 
established  on  a  firm  and  independent  basis  the  great  principle  of 
duality.  This  principle  had  originally  been  established  by  Poncelet 
as  a  corollary  on  the  theory  of  the  pole  and  polar  of  a  conic  section. 
Gergonne  maintained  the  independent  and  fundamental  nature  of 
the  principle,  and  hence  arose  a  violent  discussion  between  him  and 
Poncelet  into  which  Pliicker  was  drawn.  He  settled  the  matter  in 
Gergonne's  favour  by  introducing  the  notion  of  the  coordinates  of  a 
line  and  of  a  plane,  and  showing  that  in  plane  geometry,  for  example, 
we  could  with  equal  readiness  represent  a  point  either  by  means  of 
coordinates  or  by  means  of  an  equation,  and  that  the  same  was 
true  of  a  line.  Hence  it  appeared  that  the  point  or  the  line  in  plane 
geometry,  and  the  point  or  the  plane  in  solid  geometry,  could  with 
equal  readiness  and  with  equal  reason  bo  taken  as  elements.  It 
was  thus  made  evident  that  any  system  of  equations  proving  a 
theorem  regarding  points  and  lines  or  regarding  points  and  planes 
could  at  once  be  read  as  proving  another  in  which  the  words  jMint 
and  Hm  or  the  words  j>oint  and  plane  were  everywhere  interchanged. 

Another  subject  of  importance  which  Pliicker  took  up  in  the  Ent- 
wickelungcn was  the  curious  paradox  noticed  by  Euler  and  Cramer, 
that,  when  a  certain  number  of  the  intersections  of  two  algebraical 
curves  are  given,  the  rest  are  thereby  determined.  Gergonne  hud 
shown  that  when  a  number  of  the  intersections  of  two  curves  of  the 
(p  +  q)th  degree  lie  on  a  curve  of  the  pth  degree  the  rest  lie  on  a 
curve  of  the  gth  degi-ee.  Pliicker  finally  (Gergonne  Ann.,  1S28-29) 
showed  how  many  points  must  be  taken  on  a  curve  of  any  degree  so 
that  curves  of  the  same  degree  (infinite  in  number)  may  be  drawn 
through  them,  and  proved  that  all  the  points,  beyond  the  given 
ones,  in  which  these  curves  intersect  tho  given  one  are  fi.\ed  by  the 
original  choice.  Later,  simultaneously  with  Jacobi,  he  extended 
thoeo  results  to  curves  and  surfaces  of  unequal  order.  AUied  to  the 
matter  just  mentioned  was  Pliicker's  discovery  of  the  six  equations 
connecting  the  numbers  of  singularities  in  algebraical  curves.  It 
will  be  best  described  in  the  words  of  Clebsch  : — "Cramer  was  tho 
first  to  give  a  more  exact  discussion  of  the  singularities  of  alge- 
braical curves.  The  consideration  of  singularities  in  the  modern 
geometrical  sense  originated  with  Poncelet.  Ho  showed  that  }he 
class  k  of  a  curve  of  the  nth  order,  which  Gergonno  by  an/extra- 
ordinary mistake  had  considered  to  be  identical  with  its  order,  is 
in  general  n{n  -  1) ;  and  hence  aro.so  a  paradox  whose  explanation 
became  possible  only  through  the  theory  of  the  simple  singularities. 
P.y  the  principle  of  duality  the  order  «  of  a  curve  should  be  derived 
in  the  same  way  from  tho  class  k  as  /;:  is  from  n.  I!ut  if  we  derive  n 
in  this  way  from  k  we  return  not  to  n  but  to  a  much  greater  number. 
Hence  there  must  be  causes  which  effect  a  reduction  during  this 
operation.  Poncelet  had  already  recognized  that  a  doublo  point 
reduces  tho  class  by  2,  a  cusp  at  least  by  3,  and  a  multiple  point 
of  the  joth  order,  all  of  whoso  tangents  are  distinct,  by  ii>(p-  1). 
Hero  it  was  that  Pliicker  took  up  the  question.  By  first"  directly 
determining  tho  number  of  tho  points  of  inflexion,  considering  the 
influence  of  double  points  and  cusps,  and  finally  applying  tho 
principle  of  duality  to  tho  result  obtained,  he  was  led  to  tho  famous 
tormulai  for  the  singularities  of  curves  which  bear  his  name,  and 
which  completely  resolve  tho  paradox  of  Poncelet — formulae  which 
already  in  the  year  1854  Steincr  could  cite  as  tho  'well  known,' 
without,  however,  in  any  way  mentioning  Pliicker's  name  in  con- 
Bexion  with  them.  Pliicker  communicated  his  formuh-o  in  the  first 
place  to  Crelle's  Journal,  vol  xii.  (WZi),  and  gave  a  further  exten- 
sion and  complete  account  of  his  theory  in  his  Thcorie  der  Alge- 
braisdien  Cunien,  1839." 

In  1 833  Pluckcr  left  Bonn  for  Berlin,  wliere  he  occupied  for 
a  short  time  a  post  in  the  Friedrichi  Wilhclm's  Gymnasium. 
He  was  then  called  in  1834  as  ordinary  professor  of  mathe- 
matics to  Halle.  While  there  he  published  his  System  der 
Analytischeti  Geometrie,  avfneue'BdracMungsweisenffegrUn- 
det,  und  insbesondere  eine  AusfiUirliche  Thcorie  der  Curven 
dritter  Ordnung  enthaltend,  Berlif,  1835.  In  this  work  ho 
introfl'iced  the  use  of  linear  functions  in  place  of  tho 
ordina  y  coordinates,  and  thereby  increased  the  generality 


and  elegance  of  his  equations;  he  also  made  the  fullest 
use  of  tlie  principles  of  collineation  and  reciprocity.  In 
fact  he  develops  and  applies  to  plane  curves,  mainly  of  the 
third  degree,  the  methods  which  he  had  indicated  in  the 
Entimkelungen  and  in  various  memoirs  published  in  the 
interim.  His  discussion  of  curves  of  the  third  order 
turned  mainly  on  the  nature  of  their  asymptotes,  and 
depended  on  the  fact  that  the  equation  to  everj'  such  curve 
can  be  put  into  the  iorxn.  jxp- -^^  fis  =0.  He  gives  a  com- 
plete enumeration  of  them,  including  two  hundred  and 
nineteen  species.  In  1836  Pliicker  returned  to  Bonn  as 
ordinary  professor  of  mathematics.  Here  he  published 
his  TliPorie  der  Algehraischen  Cvrven  w^hich  formed  a  con- 
tinuation of  the  System  der  Analytischen  Geometrie.  The 
work  falls  into  two  parts,  which  treat  of  the  asymptotes 
and  singularities  of  algebraical  curves  respectively ;  and 
extensive  use  is  made  of  the  method  of  .counting  constants 
which  plays  so  large  a  part  in  modern  geometrical 
researches.  Among  the  results  given  we  may  mention  the 
enumeration  of  curves  of  the  fourth  order  according  to  the 
nature  of  their  asymptotes,  and  according  to  the  nature  of 
their  singularities,  and  the  determination  for  the  first  time 
of  the  number  of  double  tangents  of  a  curve  of  the  fourth 
order  devoid  of  singular  points. 

From  this  time  Pliicker's  geometrical  researches  practi- 
cally ceased,  only  to  be  resumed  towards  the  end  of  his 
life.  It  is  true  that  he  published  in  1846  his  System  der 
Geometrie  des  Emmies  in  neuer  Ancdytischer  Behandhmgi- 
iveise,  but  this  contains  merely  a  more  systematic  and 
polislied  rendering  of  his  earlier  results.  It  has  been  said 
that  this  cessation  from  pure  mathematical  work  was  due 
to  the  inappreciativB  reception  accorded  by  his  country- 
men to  his  labours,  and  to  their  jealousy  of  his  fame  in 
other  lands ;  it  seems  likely,  however,  that  it  was  duo  in 
some  degree  to  the  fact  that  he  was  called  upon  to  under- 
take the  work  of  the  physical  chair  at  Bonn  in  addition 
to  his  proper  duties.  In  1847  he  was  made  actual 
professor  of  physics,  and  from  that  time  his  wondrous 
scientific  activity  took  a  new  and  astonishing  turn. 

Pliicker  now  devoted  himself  to  experimental  physics  in 
the  strictest  sense  as  exclusively  as  he  had  formerly  done 
to  pure  mathematics,  and  with  equally  brilliant  results. 
His  first  physical  memoir,  published  in  Poggeiidorff's 
Annalen,  vol.  Ixxii.,  1847,  contains  his  great  discovery  of 
magnecrystallic  action.  Then  followed  a  long  series  of 
researches,  mostly  published  in  the  same  journal,  en  the 
properties  of  magnetic  and  diamagnetic  bodies,  establishing 
results  which  are  now  part  and  pa'rcel  of  our  magnetic 
knowledge.  It  is  unnecessary  here  to  analyse  these  re- 
searches, of  which  an  account  has  been  given  in  the  article 
Magnftism  (vol.  XV.  p.  262  sq.) ;  it  will  bo  sufficient  to 
say  that  in  this  work  Pliickcr  was  the  worthy  collaboratcur, 
and,  had  it  not  been  that  their  fast  friendship  and  mutual 
admiration  renders  tho  word  inappropriate,  wo  might  have 
said  rival,  of  Faraday. 

In  1858  {Pogg.  Ann.,  vol.  ciii.)  ho  published  tho  first 
of  his  classical  researches  on  the  action  of  tho  magnet  on 
tho  electric  discharge  in  rarefied  gases  (see  ELEcruiciTY, 
voh  viii.  p.  74).  It  is  needless  rc»w  to  dilate  upon  the 
groat  beauty  and  importance  of  tneso  researches,  which 
remain  tho  leading  lights  in  ono  of  the  darkest  channels 
of  magnetic  science.  All  tho  best  work  that  has  recently 
been  done  on  this  important  subject  is  simply  development 
of  what  Pliickcr  did,  and  in  somo  instances  (notably  in 
many  of  tho  researches  of  Crookes)  merely  reproduction 
.  on  a  larger  scale  of  his  results. 

Pliickcr,  first  by  himself  and  afterwards  in  conjunction 
with  Ilittorf,  mado  many  important  discoveries  in  the 
spcctro.scopy  of  gases.  Ho  was  the  first  to  use  tho  vacuum 
tube  with  the  capillary  part  now  called  a  OoisiJcr'a  tuliOi 


230 


P  L  U  —  P  L  U 


by  means  of  which  the  Iiiminotfs  intensity  of  feeble  electric 
discharges  was  raised  sufficiently  to  allow  of  spectroscopic 
investigation.  He  anticipated  Bunsen  and  Kirchhoff  in 
announcing  that  the  lines  of  the  spectrum  were  character- 
istic of  the  chemical  substance  which  emitted  them,  and 
in  indicating  the  value  of  this  discovery  in  chemical 
analysis.  According  to  Hittorf  he  was  the  first  who  saw 
the  three  lines  of  the  hydrogen  spectrum,  which  a  few 
months  after  his  death  were  recognized  in  the  spectrum 
of  the  solar  protuberances,  and  thus  solved  one  of  the 
mysteries  of  modern  astronomy.  For  a  fuller  account  of  the 
important  discoveries  regarding  the  influence  of  tempera- 
ture and  pressure  on  the  nature  of  gaseous  spectra  made 
in  conjunction  with  Hittorf  see  Spectrum  Analysis. 

Hittorf,  who  had  good  means  of  knowing,  tells  us  that 
Pliicker  never  attained  great  manual  dexterity  as  an 
experimenter.  He  had  always,  however,  very  clear  con- 
ceptions as  to  what  was  wanted,  and  possessed  in  a  high 
degree  the  power  of  putting  others  in  possession  of  his 
ideas  and  rendering  them  enthusiastic  in  carrying  them 
into  practice.  Thus  he  was  able  to  procure  from  the 
Sayner  Hiitte  in  1846  the  great  electromagnet  which  be 
turned  to  such  noble  use"  in'^his  magnetic  researches; 
thus  he  attached  to  his  service  his  former  pupil  the  skilful 
mechanic  Fessel ;  and  thus  he  discovered  and  fully  availed 
himself  of  the  ability  of  the  great  glass-blow-er  Geissler,  in 
conjunction  with  whom  he  devised  many  of  those  physical 
instruments  whose  use  all  over  the  civilized  •world  has 
tendered  the  name  of  the  artificer  of  Bonn  imntortal.  It 
was  thus  also  that,  when  he  felt  his  own  want  of  chemical 
knowledge  and  manipulative  skill,  he  sought  and  obtained 
the  assistance  of  Hittorf,  one  of  the  ablest  of  German 
experimenters. 

Induced  by  the  encouragement  of  his  mathematical 
friends  in  England,  Pliicker  in  1865  returned  once  more 
to  the  field  in  which  ho  first  became  known  to  fame,  and 
adorned  it  by  one  more  great  achievement — the  invention 
of  what  is  now  called  Line  Geometry.  A  remark  containing 
the  fundamentally  new  idea  of  this  new  geometry  had,  as 
Clebsch  remarks,  already  been  embodied  in  the  System  der 
Geometrie  des  Maumes  : — "A  straight  line  depends  on  four 
linear  constants.  The  four  magnitudes  which  we  consider 
as  variables  receive  for  any  given  line  constant  values, 
which  may  be  easily  constructed  and  are  the  four  coordin- 
ates of  the  straight  line.  A  single  equation  between  these 
four  coordinates  does  not  determine  a  locus  for  the  straight 
line,  but  merely  a  law  according  to  which  infinite  space  is 
made  up  of  straight  lines."  Hero  we  have  the  new  idea 
of  the  straight  line  considered. as  an  element  of  space,  and 
of  the  "complex,"  as  Pliicker  afterwards  called  it,  made 
up  of  a  threefold  infinity  of  straight  lines  subject  to  a 
onefold  relation.  Space  thus  becomes  as  it  were  four- 
dimensioned,  and  we  have,  instead  of  the  three  degrees  of 
freedom  of  space  considered  as  an  aggregate  of  points, 
four  degrees  of  freedom  according  as  the  linear  element 
is  (1)  absolutely  unconditioned,  (2)  subject  to  a  onefold, 
(3)  subject  to  a  twofold,  or  (4)  subject  to  a  threefold 
relation.  In  the  first  case  we  have  the  complex  of  straight 
lines,  in  the  second  the  congruency  of  lines,  in  the  third 
the  regulus  or  ruled  surface.  The  last  of  these  geometri- 
cal figures  had  been  considered  long  before,  and  even  the 
congruency  had  been  discussed  before  or  independently  of 
Pliicker,  notably  by  Hamilton  and  Kummer.  The  general 
conception  of  the  linear  complex  seems  to  be  entirely  due 
to  Pliicker.  At  all  events  he  developed  the  notion  to  such 
an  extent  that  he  is  entitled  to  be  called  the  founder  of 
Line  Geometry,  in  which  the  theory  of  the  complex  holds 
a  fundamental  position.  His  first  memoir  on  the  subject 
Kas  published  in  the  Philosophical  Transactions  of  the 
Boyal  Society  of  Londna.     It  attracted  much  attention. 


and  almost  at  once  became  the  source  of  a  large  literature 
in  which  the  new  science  was  developed.  Pliicker  himself 
worked  out  the  theory  of  complexes  of  the  first  and  second 
order,  introducing  in  his  investigation  of  the  latter  the 
famous  complex  surfaces  of  which  he  caused  those  models 
to  be  constructed  which  are  now  so  well  known  to  the 
student  of  the  higher  mathematics.  He  was  engaged  in 
bringing  out  a  large  work  embodying  the  results  of  his 
researches  in  Line  Geometry  when  he  died  on  the  22d  Slay 
1868.  The  work  was  so  far  advanced  that  his  pupil  and 
assistant  Klein  was  able  to  complete  and  publish  it,  there- 
by  erecting  the  worthiest  monument  to  the  genius  of 
his  master,  whose  wonderful  scientific  activity  endured  to 
the  very  last.  Of  the  very  numerous  honours  bestowed 
on  Pliicker  by  the  various  scientific  societies  of  Europe  it 
may  suffice  to  mention  here  the  Copley  medal,  awarded  to 
him  by  the  Royal  Society  two  years  before  his"death. 

Jfost  of  the  facts  in  the  above  notice  have  been  Liken  from 
Clebsch's  obituary  notice  of  Pliicker  (Ab)i.  d.  Kon.  Gcs.  d.  JFiss.  z. 
Gotlinijcn,  xvi. ,  1871),  to  which  is  a]ipended  an  appreciation  of 
Pliicl<er's  plijsical  researches  by  Hittorf,  and  a  list  of  Pliicker's 
works  by  F.  Klein.  See  also  Gerliardt,  Gcsddchic  der  Mnthe- 
matik  in  Deuischland,  p.  282;  and  Pliicker's  life  by  Dronke 
(Bonn,  1871).  (G.  CH.) 

PLUM  (Pniniis).  Our  cultiva'ted  plums  are  supposed 
to  have  originated  from  one  or  other  of  the  species  P. 
domestica  or  P.  insititia.  The  young  shoots  of  P.  domesiica 
are  glabrous,  and  the  fruit  oblong ;  in  P.  insititia  the 
young  shoots  are  pubescent,  and  the  fruit  more  or  less 
globose.  A  third  species,  the  common  sloe  or  blackthorn, 
P.  spinosa,  has  stout  spines;  its  flowers  expand  before  the 
leaves ;  and  its  fruit  is  very  rough  to  the  taste,  in  which 
particulars  it  differs  from  the  two  preceding.  These  dis- 
tinctions, however,  are  not  maintained  with  much  con- 
stancy. P.  domestica  is  a  native  of  Anatolia  and  the 
Caucasus,  and  is  considered  to  be  only  naturalized  in 
Europe.  P.  insititia,  on  the  other  hand,  is  wild  in  southern 
Europe,  in  Armenia,  and  along  the  shores  of  the  Caspian. 
In  the  Swiss  lake-dwellings  stones  of  the  P.  insititia  as 
well  as  of  P.  spinosa  have  been  found,  but  not  those  of 
P.  domestica.  Nevertheless,  the  Romans  cultivated  large 
numbers  of  plums.  The  cultivated  forms  are  now  ex- 
tremely numerous,  some  of  the  groups,  such  as  the  green 
gages,  the  damsons,  and  the  egg  plums  being  very  distinct, 
and  even  reproducing  themselves  from  seed.  This,  how- 
ever, cannot  be  depended  on,  and  hence  the  choice  varie- 
ties are  propagated  by  budding  or  by  layers.  The  colour 
of  the  fruit  varies  from  green,  pale  yellow,  red,  up  to  deep 
purple,  the  size  from  that  of  a  small  cherry  to  that  of  a 
walnut;  the  form  is  oblong  acute  or  obtuse  at  both  ends  or 
globular  ;  the  stones  or  kernels  vary  in  like  manner  ;  and 
the  flavour,  season  of  ripening,  and  duration  are  all  subject 
to  variation.  From  its  hardihood  the  plum  is  one  of  the 
most  valuable  fruit  trees  for  the  farmer,  as  it  is  not  parti- 
cular as  to  soil,  and  the  crop  is  less  likely  to  be  destroyed 
by  spring  frosts.  Prunes  and  French  plums  are  merely 
plums  dried  in  the  sun.  Their  preparation  is  carried  on 
on  a  large  scale  in  Bosnia  and  Servia,  as  well  as  in  Spain, 
Portugal,  and  southern  France.  The  cherry  plum,  Prnmis 
myrohalana,  is  employed  chiefly  as  a  stock  for  grafting 
upon,  and  for  the  sake  of  its  ornamental  flowers.  See  also 
Horticulture,  vol.  xii.  p.  275. 

PLUMBAGO,  a  name  frequently  applied  to  graphite  in 
allusion  to  its  remote  resemblance  to  lead,  whence  it  is 
popularly  called  "black  lead."  When  Scheele,  in  1779, 
examined  this  mineral  he  regarded  it  as  a  compound  of 
carbon  and  iron,  and  consequently  termed  it  a  "  carburet 
of  iron";  but  Vanuxem  in  1825  showed  that  the  iron 
existed  in  the  form  of  an  oxide,  and  was  not  essential  to 
the  constitution  of  the  mineral — a  conclusion  also  reached 
about  this  time  by  Karsten.     It  thus  became  fully  eslab- 


P  L  U  — P  L  U 


231 


lislied  that  plumbago  is  simply  an  impure  form  of  native 
carbon.  Plumbago  is  principally  used  in  the  manufacture 
of  "  black-lead  "  pencils,  for  which  purpose  it  was  at  one 
time  very  extensively  worked  at  Borrowdale  in  Cumber- 
land. It  was  known  locally  as  "  wad,"  and  a  grant  of  the 
manor  of  Borrowdale,  as  far  back  as  the  reign  of  James  I., 
refers  to  "  the  wad-holes  and  wad,  commonly  called  black 
cawke."  The  Cumberland  plumbago  is  found  in  pipes, 
strings,  and  irregular  masses  .known  as  "sops,"  which 
occur  in  a  dyke  of  diorite,  associated  with  a  compact  blue 
diabase,  penetrating  some  of  the  altered  ash-beds  of  the 
volcanic  series.  Important  mines  of  plumbago,  yielding 
fine  pencil  lead,  were  opened  some  years  ago  by  M.  Alibert 
in  the  government  of  Irkutsk  in  eastern  Siberia.  A  good 
deal  of  plumbago  is  also  worked  near  Passau  in  Bavaria. 
The  graphite  so  largely  used,  when  mixed  with  fire-clay, 
in  the  manufacture  of  "  black-lead  "  crucibles,  is  obtained 
chiefly  from  Ceylon  ;  and  it  is  notable  that,  notwithstand- 
ing the  purity  of  the  Ceylon  plumbago,  it  is  not  applicable 
to  the  manufacture  of  lead  pencils.  Large  quantities  of 
plumbago  occur  in  the  Laurentian  limestones  of  Canada; 
while  in  the  United  States  the  mineral  is  worked  at 
Sturbridge,  Mass.  ;  at  Ticonderoga  and  Fishkill,  N.Y. ; 
at  Brandon,  Vt.;  and  at  Wake,  N.C.  It  was  formerly 
yielded  by  the  mines  of  Ashford  in  Connecticut.  Among 
the  minor  applications  of  plumbago  may  be  mentioned  its 
use  as  a  lubricating  agent  for  machinery  and  for  polishing  ' 
cast  iron.  In  the  preamble  to  an  Act  for  protecting  the 
black-lead  mines  of  Cumberland,  25  Geo.  II.  c.  10,  it  is 
stated  that  plumbago  is  necessary  "  for  divers  useful  pur- 
poses, and  more  particularly  in  the  casting  of  bomb-shells, 
round  shot,  and  cannon  balls."  It  was  formerly  held  in 
repute  in  medicine,  and  a  writer  on  the  Cumberland 
plumbago  in  1709  asserts — "  It 's  a  present  remedy  for  the 
cholick  ;  it  eascth  the  pain  of  gravel  stone  and  strangury  ; 
and  for  these  and  the  like  uses  it 's  much  bought  up  by 
apothecaries  and  physicians."  It  is  notable  that  plumbago 
is  occasionally  found  in  masses  of  meteoric  iron,  and  that 
a  substance  of  similar  physical  and  chemical  characters  is 
produced  in  the  blast-furnace  during  the  preparation  of 
cast  iron,  and  is  known  to  the  workmen  as  kish.  Plum- 
bago bears  ai  s.trong  resemblance  to  the  mineral  termed 
molybdenite,  while  it  resembles  to  a  less  extent  certain 
varieties  of  micaceous  iron-ore  ;  the  molybdenite,  however, 
is  easily  distinguished  by  giving  a  slightly  greenish  streak, 
while  the  iron-ore  yields  a  red  streak. 

For  the  mineralogical  cliaractcristics  of  plumbago  or  graphite, 
see  vol.  xvi.  p.  331 ;  for  it3  chemical  relations,  vol.  v.  p.  86  ;  and 
for  ita,use  iir crucible-making,  vol.  ix.  p.  843. 

PLUNKET,  William  Conyngham  Plunket,  Baron 
(1765-1854),  an  eminent  la\vyer,  orator,  and  statesman,  was, 
born  in  the  county  of  Fermanagh  in  July  1765.  He  was' 
educated  in  boyhood  by  his  father,  a  man  of  considerable 
ability  and  reputation  ;  and  in  1779  ho  became  a  student 
of  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  Though  well  versed  in  regular 
academic  studies,  ho  was  most  conspicuous  in  his  university 
career  as  tho  acknowledged  leader  of  the  Historical  Society, 
the  debating  club  of  Trinity  College,  then  full  of  young 
men  of  remarkable  promise. 

Having  entered  Lincoln's  Inn  in  1784,  Plunket  was 
called  to  tho  Irish  bar  in  1787.  His  intellect  was  exactly 
that  of  a  jurist  or  a  great  master  of  equity — ^not  too  refin- 
ing or  overprone  to  speculation,  and  yet  capable  of  tho 
highest  legal  generalizations,  and  of  applying  them  to 
masses  of  fact,  however  tedious  and  complicated.  His 
power  of  close  and  rapid  argument  was  very  remarkable, 
his  memory  equally  capacious  and  exact,  and  lie  had 
enriched  an  amjilo  store  of  professional  learning  with  tho 
fruits  nf  assiduous  general  study.  Althougli  at  first  bis 
progress  at  the  bar  was  not  rapid,  ho  gradually  obtained 


a  considerable  practice  in  equity;  and,  after  an  apprentice- 
ship of  eleven  years  as  a  junior,  he  was  raised  to  the  rank 
of  king's  counsel  in  1798. 

In  1798  he  entered  the  Irish  paruament  as  member  for 
Charlemont.  His  political  faith  was-  already  settled,  and 
was  only  slightly  modified  in  after  life,  at  least  as  regards 
its  cardinal  tenets.  He  was  an  anti-Jacobin  Whig  of  the 
school  of  Burke,  not  ungracefully  filled  with  a  fervent 
Irish  patriotism.  He  disliked  the  principles  of  the  French 
Revolution,  and  its  excesses  made  such  an  impression  upon 
him  that  he  always  showed  the  greatest  antipathy  to  merely 
democratic  movements.  But  he  was  a  sincere  admirer  of 
the  constitutional  government  of  England  as  established 
in  1688  ;  he  even  justified  the  ascendency  it  had  given  to 
the  Established  Church,  although  he  thought  that  the  time 
had  arrived  for  extending  toleration  to  Roman  Catholics 
and  dissenters.  To  transfer  it  to  Ireland  as  thus  modified, 
and  under  an  independent  legislature,  was  even  in  his 
youth  the  only  reform  he  sought  for  his  country;  and, 
although  he  opposed  the  Union  with  all  his  power,  this  was 
only  because  he  thought  it  incompatible  with  this  object. 

When  Plunket  became  a  member  of  parliament,  the 
Irish  Whig  party  was  almost  extinct,  and  Pitt  was  feeling 
his  way  to  accomplish  the  Union.  In  this  he  was  seconded 
ably  by  liord  Castlereagh,  by  the  panic  caused  by  a  wild 
insurrection,  and  by  the  secession  of  Grattan  from  politics. 
When,  however,  the  measure  was  actually  brought  forward, 
it  encountered  a  vehement  opposition  ;  and  among  the 
ablest  and  fiercest  of  its  adversaries  was  Plunket,  whoso 
powers  as  a  great  orator  were  now  universally  recognized. 
His  speeches  in  these  debates  show  all  the  force  of  reason- 
ing, the  admirable  arrangement,  and  the  grasp  of  facta 
which  characterize  his  later  efforts;  but  they  are  some- 
what disfigured  by  personal  invective,  and  here  and  there 
betray  an  indecent  acrimony.  They  raised  him,  however, 
immediately  to  the  front  rank  of  his  party  ;  and,  when 
Grattan  re-entered  the  moribund  senate,  he  took  his  scat 
next  to  Plunket,  thus  significantly  recognizing  the  place  tho 
latter  had  attained. 

After  tho  union  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  Plunket 
returned  to  the  practice  of  his  profession,  and  became  at 
once  a  leader  of  the  equity  bar.  In  1803,  after  the  out- 
break of  Emmet's  rebellion,  ho  was  selected  as  one  of  the 
crown  la\vyers  to  prosecute  the  unfortunate  enthusiast,  and 
at  tho  trial,  in  summing  up  the  'evidence,  delivered  a 
speech  of  remarkable  power,  which  shows  his  characteristic 
dislike  of  revolutionary  outbursts.  For  this  speech  he 
was  exposed  to  much  unmerited  obloquy,  and  more  espe- 
cially to  the  abuse  of  Cobbett,  against  whom  he  brought 
a  successful  action  for  damages.  In  1804,  in  Pitt's  second 
administration,  ho  became  solicitor-general  and  then  attor- 
ney-general for  Ireland;  and  he  continued  in  oftico  when 
Lord  Grenville  came  into  power  at  the  head  of  the  ministry 
of  All  tho  Talents.  Plunket  held  a  seat  in  the  imperial 
parliament  during  this  period,  and  there  made  several 
able  speeches  in  favour  of  Catholic  emanciimtion,  and  of 
continuing  tho  war  with  Franco;  but,  when  tho  Grenville 
cabinet  was  dissolved,  he  returned  once  more  to  jirofcssionnl 
life,  and  for  some  years  devoted  himself  exclusively  to  it. 

In  1812,  having  amassed  a  considerable  fortune,  ho  re- 
entered parliament  as  member  for  Trinity  College,  and 
identified  himself  thoroughly  with  tho  Grenville  or  anli- 
Gallican  Whig.s.  He  was  now  in  the  full  maturity  of  his 
powcr.s,  and  very  soon  was  acknowledged  one  of  tho  first 
orators,  if  not  the  first,  of  the  House  of  Commons.  His 
reverence  for  tho  English  constitution  in  church  and  state, 
his  strong  dislike  of  French  princi|iles,  his  steady  advocacy 
of  tho  war  with  Napoleon,  and  his  antipathy  to  anything 
like  democracy  made  him  popular  with  the  Tory  par'.y. 
On-  the'  other  hand,  ho  wa.<v  tho  zealous  and  most  ablo  faup« 


232 


P  L  U  — P  L  U 


port.civ  of  Oatholifi  emancipation ;  he  was  not  averse  to 
some  measure  of  parliamentary  reform ;  and,  as  generally 
he  was  on  the  side  of  constitutional  progress,  he  was 
reckoned  a  principal  ornament  of  one  of  the  sections  of  the 
^Vhigs. 

In  1822  Plunket  was  once  more  attorney-general  for 
Ireland,  with  Lord  Wellesley  as  lord-lieutenant.  One  of 
his  first  oiBcial  acts  was  to  prosecute  for  the  "  bottle  riot," 
'an  attempt  on  his  part  to  put  down  the  Orange  faction  in 
Ireland.  But,  though  always  the  advocate  of  the  Catholic 
claims,  he  strenuously  opposed  the  Catholic  Association, 
iwhich  about  this  time,  under  the  guidance  of  O'Connell, 
began  its  extraordinary  and  successful  agitation.  He 
struggled  vehemently  to  extinguish  it,  and  in  1825  made 
(a  powerful  speech  against  it ;  and  thus  the  curious  spectacle 
■■was  seen  of  the  ablest  champion  of  an  oppressed  sect 
doing  all  in  his  power  to  check  its  efforts  to  emancipate 
itself. 

In  1827  Plunket  was  made  master  of  the  rolls  in  Eng- 
land ;  but,  owing  to  the  professional  jealousy  of  the  bar, 
who  not  unnaturally  thought  him  an  intruder,  he  was 
obliged  to  abandon  this  office.  Soon  afterwards  he  became 
chief  justice  of  the  common  pleas  in  Ireland,  and  was  then 
created  a  peer  of  the  United  Kingdom.  In  1830  he  was 
appointed  lord  chancellor  of  Ireland,  and  held  the  office, 
with  an  interval  of  a  few  months  only,  until  1841,  when 
he  finally  retired  from  public  life.  During  this  period  he 
made  some  able  speeches  in  favour  of  parliamentary  reform; 
but  they  were  scarcely  equal  to  his  earlier  efforts ;  and  his 
reputation  as  a  judge,  though  far  from  low,  was  not  so 
eminent  as  might  have  been  expected.  He  died  in  1854, 
in  his  ninetieth  year.  (w.  o.  M.) 

PLUSH  (French  Peluche),  a  textile  fabric  having  a  cut 
nap  or  pile  the  same  as  fastian  or  velvet.  Originally  the 
pile  of  plush  consisted  of  mohair  or  worsted  yarn,  but  now 
siUc  by  itself  or  with  a  cotton  backing  is  used  for  plush, 
the  distinction  from  velvet  being  found  in  the  longer  and 
less  dense  pile  of  plush.  The  material  is  largely  used  for 
upholstery  and  furniture  purposes,  and  is  also  much 
employed  in  dress  and  millinery.  The  most  distinctive 
form  of  plush  is  that  which  has  taken  the  place  of  the 
napped  beaver  felt  in  the  dress  hats  of  gentlemen,  which 
are  now  consequently  known  as  "silk"  hats.  That  plush, 
a  considerable  manufacture,  is  principally  made  in  Lyons. 
PLUTAECH  (nXou'rapxos  Xaipwytus),  a  Greek  prose 
writer,  born  at  ChKronea  in  Boeotia,  and  a  contemporary 
of  Tacitus  and  the  Plinys.  The  precise  dates  of  his  birth 
and  death  are  unknown ;  but  it  is  certain  that  he  flourished 
under  the  Roman  emperors  from  Nero  to  Trajan  inclusive, 
so  that  from  50  to  100  a.d.  will  probably  include  the  best 
years  of  his  life.  There  is  some  probability  that  he  out- 
lived Trajan,'  who  died  in  117.  In  the  Cunsolatio7i  to  his 
Wife  on  the  loss  of  his  young  daughter,  he  tells  us  (§  2) 
that  they  had  brought  up  four  sons  besides,  one  of  whom 
was  called  by  the  name  of  Plutarch's  brother,  Lamprias. 
We  learn  incidentally  from  this  treatise  (§  10)  that  the 
writer  had  been  initiated  in  the  secret  mysteries  of  Dionysus, 
which  held  that  the  soul  was  imperishable.  He  seems  to 
have  been  an  independent  thinker  rather  than  an  adherent 
(to  any  particular  school  of  philosophy.  His  forte,  so  to 
say,  was  learning,  and  the  application  of  it  to  the  casualties 
of  human  existence.  His  vast  acquaintance  with  the  litera- 
ture of  his  time  is  everywhere  apparent;  and  with  history 
especially  he  was  thoroughly  conversant,  and  hardly  less 
so  with  i^hysics. 

The  celebrity  of  Plutarch,  or  at  least  his  popularity,  is 
mainly  founded  on  his  forty-six  Parallel  Lives.  He  is 
thought  to  have  written  this  work  in  his  later  years  after 

'  The  scanty  evidences  of  date  collected  from  Plutarch's  writings 
•are  well  discussed  by  Long  in  Smith's  DM.  of  Biog.,  iii.  p.  429. 


his  return  to  his  native  town  Chseronea.  His  knowledge 
of  Latin  and  of  Roman  history  he  must  have  partly 
derived  from  some  years'  residence  in  Rome  and  other 
parts  of  Italy,-  though  he  says  he  was  too  much  engaged 
in  lecturing  (doubtless  in  Greek,  on  philosophy)  to  turn 
his  attention  much  to  Roman  literature  during  that 
period.  jong  observes  that  "  we  must  expect  to  find  him 
imperfectly  informed  on  Roman  institutions,  and  we  can 
detect  in  him  some  errors.  Yet,  on  the  whole,  his  Roman 
lives  do  not  often  convey  erroneous  notions ;  if  the  detail 
is  incorrect,  the  general  impression  is  true." 

Plutarch's  design  in  writing  the  Parallel  Lives — for  this 
is  the  title  which  he  gives  them  in  dedicating  Theseus  and 
Eomulus  to  Sosius  Senecio — appears  to  have  been  th6 
pubUcation,  in  successive  books,  of  authentic  biographies 
in  pairs,  a  Greek  and  a  Roman  (generally  with  som^ 
approximation  to  synchronism  as  well  as  some  well-marked 
resemblances  in  political  career)  being  selected  as  the 
subject  of  each.  In  the  introduction  to  the  Theseus  he 
speaks  cf  having  already  issued  his  Lycvrgus  and  Nunia, 
viewing  them,  no  doubt,  as  bearing  a  resemblance  to  each 
other  in  their  legislative  character ;  and  so  Theseus  and 
Romulus  are  compared  as  the  legendary  founders  of  states. 

In  the  opening  sentence  of  the  life  of  Alexander  he  says 
that  "  in  this  book  he  has  WTitten  the  lives  of  Alexander  and 
Ccesar  "  (Julius),  and  in  his  Demosthenes,  where  he  again 
(§  1)  mentions  his  friend  Sosius,  So'trcrtos,  he  calls  the  life 
of  this  orator  and  Cicero  the  fifth  book.^  It  may  there- 
fore fairly  be  inferred  that  Plutarch's  original  idea  was 
simply  to  set  (irapafidWeiv,  iVic,  §  1)  a  Greek  warrior, 
statesman,  orator,  or  legislator  side  by  side  with  some 
noted  Roman  celebrated  for  the  same  qualities.  In  his 
age,  when  Rome  held  the  supremacy,  but  Greece  was  still 
looked  up  to  as  the  centre  and  source  of  wisdom  and  art, 
such  a  comparison  of  the  greatest  men  of  both  nations  had 
a  special  propriety  and  significance,  and  was  more  than  a 
mere  literary  exercise.  It  was  a  patriotic  theme,  to  show 
the  superiority  of  this  or  that  race ;  and  Plutarch,  in  a 
sense,  belonged  to  both.  Now  Alexander  and  C.  Cajsar, 
Demosthenes  and  Cicero,  Solon  and  Valerius  Publicola, 
have  some  fairly  obvious  resemblances,  which  are  not  so 
conspicuous  in  some  other  pairs.  But  the  sequel  which 
follows  most  (not  all)  of  the  Lives,  entitled  o-vyKpto-ts,  viz., 
a  comparison  in  detail,  is  by  modern  critics  rejected  as 
spurious.  .  It  was  manifestly  added  as  an  appendix  from  a 
misapprehension  of  Plutarch's  real  motive  ;  the  effort  to 
bring  out  exact  points  of  resemblance*  which  are  either 
forced  or  fanciful  far  exceeded  the  design  contemplated  by 
him.  Moreover,  the  marked  difference  in  style  between 
the  /Jt'oi  and  the  crvyKpiaei's  is  quite  decisive  of  the  ques- 
t'on. 

Nearly  all  the  lives  are  in  pairs ;  but  the  series  con- 
cludes with  single  biographies  of  Artaxerxes,  Aratus  (of 
Sicyon),  Galba,  and  Otho.  In  the  life  of  Aratus,  not 
Sosius  Senecio,  but  one  Polycrates,  is  addressed. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Plutarch  was  content  to 
write  merely  amusing  or  popular  biographies.  On  the 
contrary,  the  Lives  are  works  of  great  learning  and 
research,  and  they  must  for  this  very  reason,  as  well  as 
from  their  considerable  length,  have  taken  many  years  in 
their  compilation.  For  example,  in  the  life  of  Theseus 
the  following  long  list  of  authorities  appears : — the 
llegarian  historians,''  Hellanicus,  Simonides,  Philochorus, 
Pherecydes,  Demo,  Pteon  of  Amathus,  Dica^archus,  Hero- 

*  Demoslh.,  §  2.  Plutarch's  oi'thograjiliy  of  Roman  words  .liid 
names  is  important  as  bearing  on  the  question  of  pronunciation.  A 
curious  e-xaniple  (De  Forlun.  Rom.,  §  5)  is  Virtutis  et  Honoris, 
written  OviprovTis  re  koX  'Ovupis.     The  Volsci  are  OvoXovtTKOi,  ibid. 

^  It  is  quite  evident  that  the  original  order  of  the  hooks  has  been 
altered  in  the  series  of  Lives  as  wo  now  have  them. 

*  Oi  M(yap6d(y  <rvyypa,<pi~is,  referred  to  iu  §  10, 


t 


PLUTAKCH 


233 


dorus,  Bio,  Menecrates,  Clidcmus,  Hereas,  Ister,*  Dio- 
dorus.  For  the  life  of  Romulus  he  refers  to  "  one 
Promathio  who  composed  a  history  of  Italy  "  (§  2  fin.), 
Diodes  of  Peparethus,  Fabius  Pictor,  Herodorus,  Varro, 
Valerius,  Juba  ('lo'^aj),  Zenodotus  of  Troezen,  Simulus 
the  poet  (from  whom  he  quotes  eight  elegiac  verses), 
Antigonus,  "one  Butas,"^  and  Caius  Acilius,  and  (as 
a  viva  voce  informant)  Sextius  Sulla  of  Carthage.  In 
the  life  of  Lycurgus  he  cites  Aristotle,  Eratosthenes, 
Apollodorus,  TimasuS,  Xenophon,  Simonides,  Aristocrates 
the  Spartan,  Sphserus,  Critias,  Theo])hrastus,  Dioscorides, 
Hippias  the  sophist,  Philostephanus,  Demetrius  Phalereus, 
Herniippus,  Sosibius,  Thucydides,  Apollothemis,  Aristox- 
enus,  Aristocrates.  In  the  life  of  Alexander,  which  is  a 
long  and  elaborate  essay,  mention  is  made  of  Onesicritus, 
Aristobulus,  Duris,  Chares,  Callisthenes,  Eratosthenes, 
Clitarchus,  Polyclitus,  Antigenes  Ister,  Ptolemoeus,  Ariti- 
clides,  Philo  of  Thebes,  Philippus  of  Theangele.  Philippus 
of  Eretria,  Hecataaus,  Hermippus,  Sotion. 

It  is  true  that  many  of  the  lives,  especially  of  Romans, 
do  not  show  such  an  extent  of  research  or  such  a  wealth 
of  authorities.  But  Plutarch  must  have  possessed  or  had 
access  to  a  great  store  of  books,  and  his  diligence  as  an 
historian  cannot  be  questioned,  if  his  accuracy  is  in  some 
points  impeached. 

His  sympathy  with  Doric  characters  and  institutions  is 
very  evident;  he  delights  to  record  the  exploits,  the 
maxims,  and  the  virtues  of  Spartan  kings  and  generals. 
This  feeling  is  the  key  to  his  apparently  unfair  and 
virulent  attack  on  Herodotus,  who,  as  an  Ionian,  seemed 
to  -him  to  have  exaggerated  the  prowess  and  the  foresight 
of  the  Athenian  leaders. 

The  voluminous  and  varied  writings  of  Plutarch  exclu- 
sive of  the  Lives  are  known  under  the  common  term  Opera 
Moraliu.  These  consist  of  above  sixty  essays,  some  of 
them  long  and  many  of  them  rather  difficult,  some  too  of 
very  doubtful  genuineness.  Their  literary  value  is  greatly 
enhanced  by  the  large  number  of  citations  from  lost  Greek 
poems,  especially  verses  of  the  dramatists,  among  whom 
Euripides  holds  by  far  the  first  place.  They  evince  a 
mind  of  vast  and  varied  resources,  historical  as  well  as 
philosophical — the  mind  of  an  inquirer  and  a  seeker  after 
knowledge,  rather  than:  that  of  an  exponent  or  an  opponent 
of  any  particular  philosophical  system. 

But  Plutarch's  Greek  is  not,  like  Lucian's,  fluent  and 
easy,  nor  even  clear.  He  uses  many  words  not  in  the 
ordinary  Greek  vocabulary,  and  he  too  often  constructs 
long  sentences,  the  thread  of  which  separately,  as  well  as 
the  connexion,  cannot  bo  traced  without  close  attention. 
Hence  he  is  unattractive  as  a  writer,  so  far  as  style  is  con- 
cerned, and  ho  is  often  diffuse  and  carries  his  discussions 
to  an  unnecessary  length. 

It  is  certain  that  to  most  persons  in  Britain,  even  to 
those  who  call  themselves  scholars,  the  Opera  Moralia  of 
Plutarch  are  practically  almost  unknown.  No  English 
translation  of  them,  we  believe,  has  been  printed  since  the 
bulky  folio  of  Philemon  Holland,  published  at  the  end  of 
the  17th  century,  with  the  exception  of  a  single  volume 
in  Bohn's  Classical  Library,  lately  added  to  that  series  by 
Mr  C.  W.  King,  M.A.  It  is  therefore  the  more  desirable 
to  devote  the  remainder  of  this  article  to  a  brief  notice  of 
the  principal  treatises. 

On  the  Education  of  Children  recommends  (1)  Rood  birth,  and 
sobriety  ill  the  father ;  (2)  pood  disposition  and  good  training  aro 
alike  necessary  for  virtue  ;  (3)  a  motlitr  ought  to  nurse  lier  own  off- 
spring, on  the  analogy  of  all  animals ;  (4)  tlie  pacdarjogus  must  be 
honest  and  trustworthy ;  (5)  all  the  advantages  of  life  and  fortune 
must  bo  held  secondary  to  education ;  (6)  mere  mob-oratory  is  no 

*  'O^lffTpos  ^v  T^  TpiaKatSfKdTit  Twv*ArrtKU)P,  §  34. 
^  Boi/Tat  TIT  airlcLS    uvGutSfis    tV    ^Af-ycfoiy  irtpl   Tuv   'PwfiatKuf 
ivaypiipwy,  §  21. 


pant  of  a  good  education ;  (7)  philosophy  should  foiin  the  principal 
study,  but  not  to  the  exclusion  of  the  other  sciences ;  (8)  gj-mnas- 
tics  are  to  be  practised ;  (9)  kindness  and  advice  are  better  than 
blows;  (10)  over-pressure  in  learning  is  to  bo  avoided,  and  plenty 
of  relaxation  is  to  be  allowed;  (11)  self-control,  and  not  least  over 
the  tongue,  is  to  be  learned;  (12)  the  giown-up  youth  should  be 
under  the  eye  and  advice  of  his  father,  and  all  bad  company 
avoided,  flatterers  included;  (13)  fathers  should  not  be  too  har.-,h 
and  exacting,  but  remember  that  they  were  themselves  once  young : 
(14)  marriage  is  recommended,  and  without  disjiarity  of  rank;  (15)' 
above  all,  a  father  should  be  an  example  of  virtue  to  a  son. 

How  a  Voung  Man  ought  to  Hear  Poetry  is  largely  made  up  oi 
quotations  from  Homer  and  the  tragic  poets.  The  points  of  the 
essay  are  the  moral  effects  of  poetry  as  combining  the  true  with 
the  false,  the  praises  of  virtue  and  heroism  with  a  mythology 
depraved  and  unworthy  of  gods,  d  Beol  ti  Spuim  ()iav\ov,  oiiK  italy 
Btol  (§  21).  "  So  long  as  the  young  man,"  says  Plutarch,  "  admires 
what  is  rightly  said  and  done  in  the  poets,  but  feels  annoyed  at 
the  contrary,  no  harm  is  dono  ;  but  if  he  learns  to  admire  every- 
thing which  is  presented  to  him  under  the  name  of  a  hero,  he  will 
unconsciously  become  morally  deteriorated  "  (§  26). 

On  the  Might  }Vay  of  Hearing  (vcpX  toD  duoueiy)  advocates  the 
listening  in  silence  to  what  is  being  said,  and  not  giving  a  precipi- 
tate reply  to  statements  which  may  yet  receive  some  addition  or 
modification  from  the  speaker  (§  4).  The  hearer  is  warned  not  to 
give  too  much  weight  to  the  style,  manner,  or  tone  of  the  speaker 
(§  7),  not  to  be  either  too  apathetic  or  too  prone  to  praise,  not  to 
be  impatient  if  he  finds  his  faults  reproved  oy  the  lecturer  (§  16). 
He  concludes  with  the  maxim,  "  to  hear  rightly  is  the  beginning 
of  living  rightly,"  and  perhaps  he  has  in  view  throughout  his  own 
profession  as  a  lecturer. 

How  a  Flatterer  viay  he  Disiinguiihed  from  a  Friend  is  a  rather 
long  and  uninteresting  treatise.  The  ancient  writers  are  full  of 
warnings  against  flatterers,  who  do  not  seem  to  exercise  much 
influence  in  modem  society.  The  really  dangerous  flatterer  (g  4) 
is  not  the  parasite,  ,but  the  pretender  to  a  diiinterested  friendship, 
— one  who  aifects  similar  tastes,  and  so  insinuates  himself  into  your 
confidence.  Your  accomplished  flatteier  does  not  always  praise,, 
but  flatters  by  act,  as  when  he  occupies  a  good  seat  at  a  public 
meeting  for  the  express  purpose  of  resigning  it  to  his  patron  (§  15). 
A  true  friend,  on  the  contrary,  speaks  freely  on  proper  occasions. 
A  good  part  of  the  essay  turns  on  vappi)aia,  the  honest  expression 
of  opinion.  The  citations,  which  are  fairly  numerous,  are  mostly 
from  Homer. 

How  one  may  be  Conscious  of  Progress  in  Goodness  is  addressed 
to  Sosius  Senecio,  who  was  consul  in  the  last  years  of  Nerva, 
and  more  than  once  (99,  102,  107)  under  Trajan.  If,  says 
Plutarcli,  a  man  could  become  suddenly  wise  instead  of  foolish, 
he  could  not  bo  ignorant  of  the  change ;  but  it  is  otherwise  with 
moral  or  mental  processes.  Gradual  advance  in  virtue  is  like 
steady  sailing  over  a  wide  sea,  and  can  only  bo  measured  by  tho 
time  taken  and  the  forces  applied  (§  3).  Zeno  tested  advance  by 
dreams  (§  12) ;  if  no  excess  or  immorality  presented  itself  to  tho 
imagination  of  the  sleeper,  his  mind  had  been  purged  by  reason 
and  philo.5ophy.  When  wo  love  the  truly  good,  and  adapt  our- 
selves to  their  looks  and  manners",  and  this  even  with  the  loss  of 
worldly  prosperity,  then  wo  are  really  getting  on  in  goodness  our- 
selves (§  16).  Lastly,  the  avoidance  of  little  sins  is  an  evidence  o.' 
a  scrupulous  conscience  (§  17). 

How  to  get  Benefit  out  of  Fnemies  argnes  that,  as  primitive  man 
had  savage  animals  to  fight  against,  but  learnt  to  malte  use  of  their 
skins  for  clothing  and  their  flesh  for  food,  so  we  are  bound  to  turn 
even  our  enemies  to  some  good  purpose.  One  service  they  do  to  us 
is  to  make  us  live  warily  against  plots;  another  is,  they  induce  us 
to  live  honestly,  so  as  to  vex  our  rivals  not  by  scolding  them  but 
by  making  them  secretly  jealous  of  us  (§  4).  Again,  finding  fault 
leads  us  to  consider  if  wo  aro  ourselves  faultless,  ami  to  bo  found 
fault  with  by  a  foe  is  likely  to  bo  plain  truth  speaking,  ixovaTtoy 
iari  iropi  tUv  IxOpuv  tV  i.\T]0(mv  (§  G).  Jeiifousies  and  strifes, 
so  natural  to  man,  aro  diverted  from  our  friends  by  being  legiti- 
mately expended  on  our  enemies  (§  10). 

On  Having  Many  Friends,  On  Chance,  On  Virtue  and  Vire,  ara 
three  short  essays,  tho  first  advocating  the  concentiation  of  onc'^ 
affections  on  a  few  who  aro  worthy  {robs  i(lovs  ij>t\tas  SiuKdv,  §  4), 
rather  than  diluting  them,  as  it  were,  on  the  many;  the  soi-onj 
pleads  that  intelligence,  (ftpiytifrts,  not  mere  luck,  is  tho  ruling 
principle  of  all  suecess ;  tho  third  shows  that  virtue  and  vice  aru 
but  other  names  -for  happiness  and  misery.  All  these  ore  intci- 
Bporsed  with  citations  from  the  poets,  several  of  them  unknowi* 
from  other  sources. 

A  longer  treatise,  well  and  clearly  written,  and  not  less  valuable 
for  its  many  quotations,  is  the  Consolation  addressed  to  ytjiollxmius, 
on  tho  early  death  of  his  "generally  beloved  and  religious  and 
dutiful  son.  Equality  of  mind  both  in  prosperity  and  in  adversity 
is  recommended  {§  4),  since  there  aro  "  ups  and  downs  "  (Ci^os  «ol 
Tairtii'($Tiji)  in  life,  as  there  are  storms  and  calms  on  the  sea,  and 
good  and  bad  seasons  on  the  earth.     Tliat  man  is  born  to  rcveists 

XIX.  —  ^o 


234 


P  L  U  T  A  11  C  II 


lie  illustrates  by  citing  fiftaen  fkie  "verses  irom  Menanrter  (§  5). 
Tlie  iiselessness  of  indulging  in  gi'ief  ia  pointed  out,  de^th  being  a 
debt  to  all  and  not  to  be  regarded  as  an  evil  (§§  10-12).  Plato's 
doctrine  ia  cited  (§  13)  that  the  body  is  a  burden  and  an  impediment 
■to  the  soij.  Death  may  be  annihilation,  and  therefore  the  dead 
are  in  the  same  category  as  the  unborn  (§  15).  The  lamenting  a 
death  because  it  is  untimely  or  premature  has  something  of  selfish- 
ness in  it  (§  19),  besides  that  it  only  means  that  one  has  arrived 
sooner  than  another  at  the  end  of  a  common  journey.  If  a  death 
is  more  grievous  because  it  is  untimely,  a  new  borri  infant's  death 
■would  be  the  most  grievous  of  all  (§  23).  One  who  has  died  early 
may  have  been  spared  many  woes  rather  than  have  been  deprived 
of  many  blessings ;  and,  after  all,  to  die  is  but  to  pay  a  debt  due  to 
the  gods  when  they  ask  for  it  (§  28).  Examples  are  given  of 
fortitude  and  resignation  under  such  affliction  (§  33).  If,  says  the 
author  in  conclusion,  tliere  is  a  heaven  for  the  good  hereafter,  be 
sure  that  such  a  son  will  have  a  place  in  it. 

I  'Pncepts  about  JTcalth  commences  as  a  dialogne,  and  extends  to 
some  length  as  a  lecture.  It  is  technical  and  difficult  throughout, 
and  contains  but  little  that  falls  in  with  modern  ideas.  Milk,  he 
says,  should  be  taken  for  food  rather  than  for  drink,  and  wine 
should  not  be  indulged  in  after  hard  work  or  mental  effort,  for  it 
does  but  tend  to  increase  the  bodily  disturbance  {§  17).  Better 
than  purges  or  emetics  is  a  temperate  diet,  which  induces  the 
bodily  functions  to  act  of  themselves  (§  20).  Another  wise  saying 
is  that  idleness  does  not  conduce  to  health  (oiS'  akriBfs  iart  t6 
ftaWov  vyiaifeiv  roi/s  ijcrvxiav  HyovTas,  §  21),  and  yet  another  that 
a  man  should  learn  by  experience  his  bodily  capabilities  without 
always  consulting  a  pliysician  (§  26). 

Advice  to  the  Married  is  addressed  to  his  newly  wedded  friends 
Pollianus  and  Eurydice.  It  is  simply  and  plainly  written,  and  con- 
sists chiefly  of  short  maxims  and  anecdotes,  with  but  few  citations 
ffom  the  poets. 

The  Baiiquet  of  the  Seven  Wise  Men  is  a  longer  treatise,  one  of 
the  several  "Symposia"  or  imaginary  conversations  that  have 
come  down  to  us.  It  is  supposed  to  be  given  by  Periander  in  the 
public  banqueting-room  {iirTiaT6ptov)  near  tlie  harbour  of  Corinth 
(Lechajum)  on  the  occasion  of  a  sacrifice  to  Aphrodite.  The  whole 
party  consisted  of  "  more  than  twice  seven,"  the  friends  of  the 
principal  guests  being  also  present  Like  Plato's  Symposium  this 
treatise  takes  the  form  of  a  narrative  of  what  was  said  and  done, 
the  narrator  being  one  Diodes,  a  friend  of  Periander's,  who  professes 
jto  give  Nicarchus  a  correct  account  as  having  been  present.  The 
dinner  was  simple,  and  ia  contrast  ■with  the  usual  splendour  of 
"  tyrants  "  (§  4).  The  conversation  turns  on  various  topics ;  Solon 
is  credited  with  the  remarkable  opinion  that  "  a  king  or  tjTant  s 
most  likely  to  become  celebrated  if  he  nukes  a  democracy  out  of  a 
monarchy  "  (§  7).  There  is  much  playful  banter  throughout,  but 
neither  the  wit  nor  the  wisdom  seems  of  a  very  high  standard. 
Solon  delivers  a  speech  on  food  being  a  necessity  rather  than  a 
pleasure  of  life  (§  IC),  and  one  Gorgus,  a  brother  of  the  host,  comes 
in  to  relate  how  ho  has  just  shaken  hands  with  Arion  brought 
across  the  sea  on  the  b.ick  of  a  dolphin  (§  18),  which  brings  on  a 
discussion  about  the  habits  of  th;:t  creature.  Among  the  speakers 
are  .fflsop,  Anacharsis,  Thales,  Chilo,  Cleobulus,  and  one  Chersias, 
a  met 

A  short  essay  On  Superstition  contains  a  good  many  quotations 
from  the  poets.  It  opens  with  the  wise  remark  that  ignorance 
about  the  gods,  which  makes  the  obstinate  man  an  atheist,  also 
begets  credulity  in  weak  and  pliant  minds.  The  atheist  fears 
nothing  because  he  believes  nothing  ;  the  superstitious  man  believes 
there  are  gods,  but  that  they  are  unfriendly  to  him  (§  2).  A  man 
who  fears  the  gods  is  never  free  from  fear,  whatever  he  may  do  or 
whatever  may  befall  him.  He  extends  his  fears  beyond  his  death, 
and  believes  in  the  "gates  of  bell,"  and  its  fires,  in  tlie  darkness, 
the  ghosts,  the  infernal  judges,  and  what  not  (§  4).  The  atheist 
does  not  believe  in  the  gods  ;  the  superstitious  man  wishes  he  did 
not,  but  fears  to  disbelieve  (§  11).  On  the  whole,  this  is  a  most 
interesting  treatise.  Mr  King  has  given  a  translation  of  it,  and  of 
the  next  five  essays. 

On  Isis  ami  Osiris  is  a  rather  long  treatise  on  Egyptian  symbolism, 
interesting  chiefly  to  students  of  Egyptology.  It  gives  an  exposi- 
tion of  the  strange  myths  and  superstitions  of  this  ancient  solar 
cult,  including  a  full  account  of  the  great  antagonist  of  Osiris, 
Typhon,  or  the  Egyptian  Satan.  Plutarch  thus  lays  down  the 
Zoroastrian  theory  of  good  and  bad  agencies  (§  45)  :  "if  nothing 
can  happen  without  cause,  and  good  cannot  furnish  cause  for  evil, 
it  follows  that  the  nature  of  evil,  as  of  good,  must  have  an  origin 
and  principle  of  its  own." 

0:1  the  Cessation  of  Oracles  is  a  dialogue,  discussing  the  reasons 
why  divine  inspiration  seemed  to  be  withdrawn  from  the  old  seats 
sf  prophetic  lore.  'I'lie  real  reason  of  their  decline  in  popularity  is 
2>robably  very  simple ;  when  the  Greek  cities  became  Roman 
ornvinces  the  fashion  of  consulting  oracles  fell  off,  as  unsuited  to 
the  more  practical  inlluenccs  of  Roman  thought  and  Roman 
politics.  Tlie  question  is  discus.scd  whether  there  are  such  inter- 
mediate beings  as  daimons,  who  according  to  Pl.ato  communicate 


the  will  of  the  gods  to  men,  and  the  prayers  and  vows  of  men  to 
the  god.-?. 

The  possibility  of  a  plurality  of  worlds  is  entertained,  and  of  the 
planets  being  itore  or  less  composed  of  the  essence  of  the  five 
elements,  iiie,  ether,  earth,  air,  and  water  (§  37).  The  whole 
treatise  is  metaphysical,  but  it  concludes  with  remarks  on  the 
exhalations  at  Delphi  having  different  effects  on  difl'creijt  people 
and  at  different  times.  The  ancient  notion  doubtless  was  that  tho 
vapour  was  the  breath  of  some  mysterious  being  sent  up  from  the 
under-world.      ' 

On  the  Ptjthian  Responses,  u-hy  no  longer  given  in  Verse,  is  also  a 
dialogue,  the  first  part  of  which  is  occupied  mainly  with  conver- 
sation and  anecdotes  about  the  statues  and  other  offerings  at 
Delphi.  It  is  lather  an  amusing  essay,  and  may  be  regarded_as  a 
kind  ai  appendix  to  the  last.  The  theory  propounded  (§  24)  is 
tliat  verse  was  the  older  vehicle  of  philosophy,  liistory,  and  religion, 
but  tliat  plain  prose  has  become  the  later  fasliion,  and  therefore 
that  oracles  are  now  generally  delivered  "  in  the  same  form  as  laws 
speak  to  citizens,  kings  reply  to  their  subjects,  and  scholars  hear 
their  teachers  speak."  Discredit  too  was  brought  on  the  verse-oracle 
by  the  facility  with  which  it  was  employed  by  impostors  {§  25). 
Moreover,  verse  is  better  suited  to  ambiguity,  and  oracles  now-a-daya 
h.Tve  less  need  to  be  ambiguous  (§  28). 

On  tlie  E  at  Delphi  is  an  inquiry  why  that  letter  or  symbol  was 
written  on  or  in  the  Delphic  temple.  Some  thought  it  represented 
pie  number  five,  otiiers  that  it  introduced  the  inquiry  of  oracle- 
seekers.  If  so-and-so  was  to  be  done  ;  while  one  of  the  speakers, 
Ammonius,  decides  that  it  means  EI,  "thou  art,"  an  address  to 
Apollo  containing  tlie  predication  of  existence  {§  17). 

On  the  Face  on  the  Muon's  Disk  is  a  long  and  curious  if  somewhat 
trifling  speculation,  yet  not  without  interest  from  its  calculations 
of  the  sizes  and  the'di^tance  from  earth  of  the  sun  and  moon  {§  10), 
and  from  the  contrast  between  ancient  lunar  theories  and  mcJern 
mathematics.  The  cause  of  the  moon's  liglit,  its  peculiar  colour, 
the  possibility  of  its  being  inhabited,  and  many  kindred  questions 
are  discussed  in  this  dialogue,  the  beginning  and  end  of  which  are 
alike  abrupt.  Some  of  the  "guesses  at  truth  "  are  very  near  the 
mark,  as  when  it  is  suggested  (§§  21-2)  tnai  the  moon,  like  the 
earth,  contains  deep  recesses  into  which  the  iun's  liglit  does  not 
descend,  and  the  appearance  of  the  "face"  is  nothing  but  the 
shadows  of  streams  or  of  deep  ravines. 

On  the  Late  Fengeance  of  the  Deity  is  a  di.ilogue  consequent  on  a 
supposed  lecture  by  Epicurus.  An  objection  is  raised  to  the 
ordinary  dealings  of  providence,  that  long  delayed  punishment 
encourages  tlio  sinner  and  disappoints  the  injured,  tlie  reply  to 
which  is  {§  5)  that  the  god  sets  man  an  example  to  avoid  hasty 
and  precipitate  resentment,  and  that  he  is  willing  to  give  time  for 
repentance  {§  6).  Moreover,  he  may  wish  to  await  the  birth  of 
good  progeny  from  erring  parents  (§  7).  Another  fine  reflexion  is 
that  sin  has  its  own  punishment  in  causing  misery  to  the  sinner,' 
and  thus  the  longer  tlie  life  the  greater  is  the  share  of  misery  (§  9). 
The  ess.ay  concludes  with  a  long  story  about  one  Thesppsius,  and 
the  treatment  which  he  saw,  during  a  trance,  of  the  souls  iu  tho 
other  world. 

On  Fate  discusses  the  law  of  chance  as  against  the  overruinig 
of  providence.  This  treatise  ends  abruptly  ;  the  ]ioint  of  the 
argument  is  that  both  fate  and  providence  have  their  due  inllucin'C 
in  mundane  affairs  {§  9),  and  that  all  things  are  constituted  for  the 
best.  .  ' 

On  the  Genius  of  Socrates  is  a  long  essay,  and,  like  so  many  of  the 
rest,  in  the  forni  of  a  dialogue.  The  experiences  of  one  Timarchus, 
and  liis  supernatural  visions  in  the  cave  of  Trophouius,  are  related  it 
longth  in  the  Platonic  style  (§  22),  and  the  true  nature  of  the 
Sainoves  is  revealed  to  him.  "They  are  the  souls  of  the  just,  who 
still  retain  regard  for  human  affairs  and  assist  the  good  in  their 
efforts  after  vii-tue  (§  28).  The  dialogue  ends  with  an  iuteresting 
narrative  of  the  concealment  of  Pelopidas  and  some  of  the  Tliebau 
conspirators  against  the  Spartans  in  the  house  of  Charon. 
-  On  Exile  is  a  fine  essay,  rendered  the  more  interesting  from  its 
numerous  quotations  from  the  poets,  including  several  from  the 
Phcenissee.  Man  is  not  a  plant  that  grows  only  in  one  soil  ;  he 
belongs  to  heaven  rather  th.an  to  eartli,  and  wherever  he  goes  there 
are  the  same  sun,  the  same  seasons,  the  same  providence,  the  same 
laws  of  virtue  and  justice  (§  5).  There  is  no  discredit  in  being 
driven  from  one's  country  ;  Apollo  himself  was  banished  from 
heaven  and  condemned  to  live  for  a  time  on  earth  (§  18). 

The  Consolation  to  his  IVife,  on  the  early  death  of  their  only 
daughter  Timoxena  (§  7),  is  a  feeling  and  sensible  exhortation  to 
moderate  her  grief. 

Nine  books  of  Symposiaca  extend  to  a  great  length,  discussing 
inquiries  {wpo$\t'ifjiaTCL)  on  a  vast  number  of  subjects.  The  gencrni 
treatment  of  these,  in  which  great  literary  knowledge  is  displayed, 
is  not  unlike  tho  style  of  AthenKUs.  It  is,  of  course,  impossible 
here  to  give  any  summary  of  the  questions  propounded. 

The  Amorous  Man  is  a  dialogue  of  some  length,  describing  a 
conversation  on  the  nature  of  love  held  at  Helicon,  pending  a 
quiuqueuuial   feast   of  the   Thespians,  who   specially  worshijjpcd 


P  L  U  —  P  L  U 


235 


that  doity  along  with  the  Muses.  It  is  amply  illustrated  by  poetical 
quotations.  In  §  24  mention  is  made  of  the  emperor  Vespasian. 
It  is  followed  hy  a  sliort  treatise  entitled  Love  StoricSj  giving  a  few 
narratives  of  sensational  adventures  of  lovers. 

Short  Sayiriffn  (aircKpOiyfiaTa),  dedicated  to  Trajan,  extend  to  a 
great  length,  and  are  divided  into  three  parts  : — (1)  of  kings  and 
commanders  (including  many  Koman) ;  (2)  of  Sp.irtans  ;  (3)  of 
Spartan  women  (a  short  treatise  on  Spartan  insiitutions  being 
interposed  between  the  last  two).  The  names  of  the  authors  are 
added,  and  to  some  of  them  a  large  number  of  maxims  are  attributed.  ■ 
Many  are  terse,  shrewd,  wise,  or  pointed  with  strong  common- 
tense  ;  but  a  good  many  seem  to  us  now  somewhat  commonplace. 

A  rather  long  treatise  On  the  Virtues  of  Women  contains  a  series 
of  narratives  of  noblo  deeds  done  "by  the  sex  in  times  ot  danger 
Bnd  trouble,  especially  from  "tyrants."  Many  of  the  stories  are 
interesting,  and  the  style  is  easy  and  good. 

Another  long  and  learned  work  bears  the  rather  obscure  title 
Tit(t>aKaiav  liaTaypaipii.  It  is  generally  known  as  Queeslioncs 
Romanm  and  Grmcm,  in  two  parts.  In  the  former,  which  contains 
one  -hundred  and  thirteen  headings,  the  inquiry  (on  some  matter 
political,  religious,  or  antiquarian)  always  commences  with  5i4  t(, 
usually  followed  by  ir6Tepov,  with  alternative  explanations.  In  the 
Greek  Questions  the  form  of  inquiry  is  more  often  t(j  or  rfi/es,  not 
followed  by  v6t(pov.  This  treatise  is  of  great  interest  and  import- 
ance to  classical  archseology,  though  the  inquiries  seem  occasionally 
trifling,  and  sometimes  tlie  answers  are  clearly  wrong. 

Parallels  are  a  series  of  similar  incidents  which  occurred  respec- 
tively to  Greeks  and  Romans,  the  Greek  standing  first  and  tlie 
Homan  counterpart  following.  Many  of  the  characters  are  mytho- 
logical, though  Plutarcli  regards  them  as  historical. 

Qn  the  Fortune  of  the  Romans  discusses  whether,  on  the  whole, 
go'od  luck  or  valour  liad  more  influence  in  giving  the  Romans  the 
supremacy.  This  is  followed  by  two  discourses  (\6yoi)  on  the 
same  question  as  applicable  to  the  career  of  Alexander  the  Great, 
fVhether  the  Athenians  were  more  reiwumed  for  War  or  for 
Wisdom  ?  'The  conchision  is  (§  7)  that  it  was  not  so  much  by  the 
fame  oT  their  poets  as  by  the  deeds  of  their  heroes  that  Athens 
became  renowned. 

Gnjllus  is  a  most  amusing  dialogue,  in  which  Circe,  Ulysses,  and 
a  talking  pig  take  part.  Ulysses  wishes  that  all  the  human  beings 
that  have  been  changed  by  the  sorceress  into  bestial  forms  should 
be  restored  ;  but  "  piggy  "  is  quite  opposed  to  the  refurn,  arguing 
that  in  moral  virtues,  such  as  true  bravery,  chastity,  temperance, 
ind  general  simplicity  of  life  and  contentment,  animals  are  very 
far  superior  to  man. 

Wlietlier  Land  Animals  or  Water  Animals  arc  the  Cleverer  is  a 
father  long  dialogue  on  the  intelligence  of  ants,  bees,  elephants, 
spiders,  dogs,  &c. ,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  crocodile,  the  dolphin, 
the  tunny,  and  many  kinds  of  fish,  on  the  otlier.  This  is  a  good 
essay,  much  in  the  style  of  Aristotle's  Uislory  of  Animals. 

On  Flesh-Eating,  in  two  orations,  discusses  tlie  origin  of  the 
practice,  viz.,  necessity,  and  makes  a  touching  appeal  to  man  not 
to  destroj"  life  for  mere  gluttony  (§  4).  This  is  a  short  but  very 
eensible  and  interesting  argument.  Questions  on  Plalo  are  ten  in 
number,  each  heading  subdivided  into  several  speculative  replies. 
The  subjects  are  for  the  most  part  metaphysical;  the  essay  is  not 
long,  but  it  concerns  Platonists  only.  Whether  Water  or  Fire  is 
more  Useful  is  also  short;  after  di.scussing  the  u?es  of  both  elements 
it  decides  in  favour  of  the  latter,  since  nothing  can  exceed  in 
importance  the  warmth  of  life  and  the  light  of  the  sun.  On 
Primary  Cold  is  a  physical  speculation  on  the  true  nature  and 
prigin  of  the  quality  antithetical  to  heat.  Physical  Reasons 
IQumsliones  Nalurales)  are  replies  to  inquiries  as  to  why  certain 
facts  or  phenomena  occur  ;  e.g.,  "Why  is  salt  the  only  flavour  not 
in  fruits?"  "Why  do  fishing-nets  rot  in  winter  more  tlian  in 
summer?"  "Why  does  pouring  oil  on  the  sea  produce  a  calm?" 
On  the  Opinions  accepted  by  the  Philosophers,  in  five  books,  is  a 
valuable  compendium  of  the  views  of  the  Ionic  school  and  tlio 
Stoics  on  the  phenomena  of  the  universe  and  of  life.  On  the  VI- 
naturc  of  Uerodolua  is  a  well-known  critique  of  the  historian  for 
his  unfairness,  not  only  to  the  Hceotians  'and  Lacedaemonians,  but 
to  the  Corinthians  and  other  Greek  states.  It  is  easy  to  say  that 
this  essay  "  neither  requires  nor  merits  refutation  "  ;  but  I'lutarch 
knew  history,  and  he  writes  like  one  who  thoroughly  understamls 
the  charges  which  ho  brings  against  the  liistorian.  Tlio  Lives  of 
the  Ten  Orators,  from  Antipho  to  Dinarchus,  Ire  blograiihios  of 
various  length,  com])iled,  doubtless,  from  materials  now  lost. 

Two  rather  long  essays,  Shoxdd  a  Man  engage  in  Politics  uhcn  he 
■is  no  longer  Young,  and  Precepts  for  Governing  (ttoAitikA  irapa77^\- 
/loTo),  are  interspersed  with  valuable  quotations.  In  fiivour  of 
the  l^ormcr  view  the  administrations  of  Pericles,  of  Agcsilnus,  ot 
Augustus,  are  cited  (§  2),  and  the  preference  of  older  men  for  the 

fleasurcs  of  doing  good  over  the  pleasures  of  tho  sen.sca  (§  5). 
n  the  latter,  tho  true  use  of  eloquence  is  discussed,  and  a  con- 
trast drawn  between  tho  brilliant  and  risky  and  the  slow  and  safe 
policy  ;5  10).  The  choice  of  friends,  and  the  caution  against  ennii- 
t-.-s.  the  dangers  of  love,   of  gain,  and  of  ambition,   with  many 


topics  of  the  like  kind,  aro  sensibly  adranccd  and  illustrated  by 
examples. 

Besides  the  numerous  works  that  hare  come  down  to  us,  Plutarck 
speaks  of  a  work  called  Afna,  the  same  title  with  the  lost  poem  of 

Callimachus  (/JoiimZiw,  §  15). 

The  live*  have  often  been  tranBtatcd  ;  the  most  popular  version  Into  Cngnsli 
is  tlitit  by  John  and  William  LanKhorne ;  more  recently  many  of  the  Koniaa 
lives  have  been  tianslated,  with  notes,  by  the  late  Mr  George  Long.  An 
excellent  and  convenient  edition  of  the  Gicek  text,  In  6  vols.  I'Jmo.  has  been 
published  in  the  Teubner  series  by  Carl  Sintenis.  It  scema  strange  that  nm 
modern  edition  of  the  Opera  ilorulia  exists,  and  that  the  student  lias  to  fal 
back  on  the  old-fashioned  volumes  of  Wyttcnbuch  (G  vols.  4to,  Oxford,  als# 
printed  In  Svo),  Keiske  (in  J2  vols.  8vo),  and  Hutten  (U  vols.  8vo).  Whether 
tiiere  Is  any  hope  of  Rudolph  lieicheis  single  volume  (1872)  In  the  Teubner 
seiles  being'/oUowcd  by  others,  we  have  no  Information.  (F.  A.  1*.) 

PLUTO,  the  god  of  tho  dead  in  Greek  mythplogy. 
His  oldest  name  was  Hades  ('At8)j9,  "AiStjt,  '^hrj<;),  "  the 
Unseen";  the  name  Pluto  (nXoiVtui')  was  given  him  as 
the  bestower  of  the  riches  (ttAovto?)  of  the  mine,  and  ia 
ordinary  language  it  ousted  the  dread  name  of  Hades, 
which  was,  however,  retained  in  poetry.  He  was  the  sob 
of  Cronus  and  Rhea,  and  brother  of  Zens  and  Poseidon. 
Having  deposed  Cronus,  the  brothers  cast  lots  for  the  king- 
doms of  the  heaven,  the  sea,  and  the  infernal  regions,  and 
Pluto  obtained  the  infernal  regions,  which  from  their  ruler 
■were  afterwards  known  as  Hades.  The  "  house  of  Hades  " 
was  a  dark  and  dreadful  abode  deep  down  in  the  earth. 
How  literally  the  god  was  supposed  to  dwell  underground 
is  shown  by  the  method  of  invoking  him,  which  was  by 
rapping  on  the  ground  to  attract  his  attention.  According 
to  another  view  the  realm  of  Hades  was  in  a  land  beyond 
the  ocean  in  the  far  west,  which  to  the  Greek  was  always 
tlie  region  of  darkness  and  death,  as  the  cast  of  light  and 
life.  This  is  the  view  of  Hades  presented  in  the  Odyssey. 
Ulysses  sails  all  day  with  a  north  wind,  and  at  sunset 
reaches  a  land  at  the  limits  of  ocean.  Here,  wrapped  in 
mist  and  cloud,  dwell  the  Cimmerians,  who  never  see  the 
sun.  He  lands,  and  moving  along  the  shore  he  calls  the 
ghosts  of  the  departed  to  meet  him.  In  the  description  of 
tho  Cimmerians  we  have  perhaps  a  traveller's  tale  of  the 
long  dark  winters  of  the  north.  Besides  this  gloomy  region, 
we  find  in  another  passage  of  the  Odyssey  (iv.  561  sq.)  a 
picture  of  Elysium,  a  happy  land  at  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
whore  rain  and  snow  fall  not,  but  tho  cool  west  wind  blows 
and  men  live  at  ease.  After  Homer  this  happy  land,  the 
abode  of  the  good  after  death,  was  known-as  the  Islands 
of  the  Blest,  and  these  in  later  times  were  identified  with 
Madeira  and  tho  Canary  Islands.^  But  in  the  oldest  Greek 
mythology  the  "  house  of  Hades  "  was  a  place  neither  of 
reward  nor  punishment ;  it  was  simply  the  home  of  the 
dead,  good  and  bad  alike,  who  led  a  dim  and  shadowy 
reflexion  of  life  on  earth.  The  differentiation  of  this  "home 
of  Hades  "  into  a  heaven  and  a  hell  was  the  result  of  pro- 
gressive thought  and  morality.  Pluto  was  himself  sinqily 
tho  ruler  of  the  dead  ;  in  no  sense  was  he  a  tempter  and 
seducer  of  mankind  like  the  devil  of  Christian  theology. 
Indeed  tho  very  conception  of  a  devil,  as  a  principle  of  evil 
in  continual  conflict  with  God  or  tho  princijile  of  good,  is 
totally  foreign  to  Greek  mythology,  as  it  was  also  to  Indian 
and  Teutonic  mythology.     Pluto  was  certainly  depicted  as 

'  The  conception  of  tlio  land  of  tho  dead,  whctlior  In  tho  far  west  or 
l>cncalh  the  earth,  nii^lit  be  paralleled  from  tho  bclicf.i  of  ninny  s.ivoro 
tribes.  Tlio  Snmoan  Islanders  unite  the  two  conoeptiuns  :  tlio  enlrnnco 
to  their  spirit-land  is  at  tho  wcMeriimost  point  of  tho  wp^tcrllnlo^t 
island,  where  tho  ghosts  descend  by  two  holes  into  tho  uiidor-wnild.' 
Long  ago  the  inhabitants  of  the  French  const  of  the  English  Channel 
believed  that  the  flouls  of  tlio  dead  wore  ferried  across  In  Britain,  and 
there  nro  still  traces  of  this  belief  in  tho  folk-lore  of  Brillnny  (Tylor, 
Primitive  Culture,  il.  p.  61;  Grimm,  Deutsche  Mythnlogie,  ii,  p.  694). 
In  classical  mythology  the  underground  Hadca  prevailed  over  th« 
western.  It  was  nn  Ktruscan  custom  nl  lh«  founilation  of  a  city  to 
dig  a  deep  hole  in  the  earth,  and  close  it  with  n  stone  ;  on  three  dny« 
in  tho  year  this  stono  was  removed,  and  the  ghosts  were  then  snpposeil, 
U>  ascend  from  tlio  lower  worlil.  ^In  Asia'Minor  caves  (lUcJ  with 
mcphitic  vapours  or  containing  hot  springs  were  known  as  Plulonia 
or  Chnronin.  Tlio  most  foinons  entrances  to  tho  un''.;r-wwrlJ  were  <i^ 
Twnarum  in  Laconi.i,  and  nl  tho  Lake  Avcnuia  in  Italy; '' 


236 


r  L  u  —  r  L  Y 


stern  and  pitUess,  but  he  was  so  only  in  discharge  of  his 
•duty  as  custodian    of    the    dead.     But   even    Pluto  once 
melted  at  the  music  of  Orpheus  when  he  came  to  fetch 
from  the  dead  his  wife  Eurydice.     The  cap  of  Hades,  like 
the  Nebelkappe  of  German  mythology,  rendered  its  wearer 
invisible  ;  as  a  sort  of  thick  cloud  it  was  the  reverse  of 
•the   nimbus    or   halo  of  the  heavenly  gods.     While    the 
victims  sacrificed  to  the  latter  were  white,  those  offered  to 
Pluto  were  black.  .  His  wife  was  Proserpine  (Persephone), 
daughter  of  Demeter  (Ceres),  whom  he  carried  off  as  she 
was  gathering  flowers  at  Enna  in  Sicily.     Like  the  Greeks, 
the  ancient  Italians  believed  that  the  souls  of  the  dead 
dwelt  underground ;  in  Latin  the  names  for  the  god  of  the 
dead  are  Orcus  and  Father  Dis,  but  the  Greek  name  Pluto 
also  frequently  occurs.     But,  while  Orcus  was  rather  the 
actual  slayer,  the  angel  of  death.  Father  Dis  was  the  ruler 
of    the   dead,    and   thus    corresponded    to   Plutc.     Their 
names  also  correspond,  Dis  being  a  contraction  for  Dives, 
;'  wealthy."     The  Etruscan  god  of  death  was  represented 
as  a  savage  old  man  with  wings  and  a  hammer  ;  at  the 
gladiatorial   games   of   Rome   a  man   masked   after  this 
fashion  used  to  remove  the  corpses  from  the  arena.     In 
Romanesque  folklore   Orcus  has  passed  into  a  forest-elf, 
a  black,  hairy,    man-eating    monster,  upon    whose  house 
children  lost  in  the  woods  are  apt  to  stumble,  and  who 
sometimes  shows  himself  kindly  and  helpful.     He  is  the 
Italian  orco,  the  Spanish  ogro,  the  English  ogre. 

PLLTTUS  (ttXoStos,  "  wealth  "),  the  Greek  god  of  riches, 
*hom  Demeter  bore  to  lasion  "in  the  fat  land  of  Crete." 
He  enriched  every  one  whom  he  fell  in  with.  According 
to  Aristophanes,  he  was  blinded  by  Zeus  in  order  that  he 
might  not  enrich  the  good  and  wise  alone.  At  Thebes 
there  was  a  statue  of  Fortune  holding  the  child  Plutus  in 
her  arms  ;  at  Athens  he  was  similarly  represented  in  the 
arms  of  Peace ;  at  ThespisB  he  was  represented  standing 
beside  Athene  the  Worker.  Elsewhere  he  was  represented 
as  a  boy  with  a  cornucopia.  He  is  the  subject  of  one  of 
the  extant  comedies  of  Aristophanes. 

PLYMOUTH,  a  municipal  and  parliamentary  borough 
and  seaport  town  of  Devonshire,  England,  is  picturesquely 
situated  on  Plymouth  Sound  in  the  south-west  corner  of  the 
county,  at  the  confluence  of  the  Tamar  and  Plym,  44  miles 
eouth-west  of  Exeter.  With 
the  borough  of  Devonport 
and  the  township  of  East 
Stonehouse  it  forms  the  ag- 
gregate town  known  as  the 
"  Three  Towns."     There  is 
railway  communication  by 
means  of  the  Great  Western 
and    South-Western    lines, 
and  by  several  branch  lines 
connected  with  these  sys- 
tems.   The  defences  of  the 
town,  in   addition   to   the. 

citadel, an  obsolete  fortifica-  Environs  of  Plymouth. 

Ition  built  by  Charles  II.,  on  the  site  of  an  older  fort,  con- 
bist  of  a  most  elaborate  chain  of  forts  of  great  strength 
mounted  with  guns  of  the  heaviest  calibre,  and  forming  a 
pomplete  line  of  defence  round  the  whole  circumference  both 
landwards  and  seawards.  The  streets  are  for  the  most  part 
narrow  and  crooked,  and  the  houses  very  irregular  both  in 
5tylo  of  architecture  and  in  height.  Great  improvements 
bave,  however,  recently  taken  place.  The  more  ancient  part 
Df  the  town  near  the  water-side  has  been  much  altered-,  and 
1  number  of  model  dwellings  have  also  lately  been  erected. 
tn  the  principal  thoroughfares  there  are  numerous  hand- 
some shops  and  other  imposing  business  establishments. 
Among  the  most  important  of  the  public  buildings  is  the 
Uttildhall,  completed  in  1874  at  a  cost  of  £56,000,  a  fine 


Siiim^S^- 


group  in  the  Gothic  style  of  the  13th  century,  with  a  lofty 
tower,  and  containing  the  town-hall  with  a  fine  organ  and 
a  series  of  historical  windows,  a  police  court  and  offices,  a 
sessions  and  pther  court  rooms,  and  the  council  chamber 
and  municipal  oflices.     The    new  post  office  in  Westwell 
Street  was  erected    at  a  co.st  of  £12,000.     The  market, 
dating  from  1804,  and  occupying  about  three  acres  in  the 
centre  of  the  town,  is  in  course  of  reconstruction.     A  fine 
clock-tower,    erected    by    the  corporation,    stands   at   the 
junction  of  George  Street  and  Union  Street.     The  parish 
church  of  St  Andrews,  some  portions  of  w^hich  date  from 
about  1430,  has  undergone  alterations  and  improvements 
at   different   periods,    and   in     1874-75    was   completely 
restored  under  the  direction  of  the  late  Sir  G.  G.  Scott. 
The  tower,  built  in  1460,  contains  a  fine  peal  of  bells. 
The  church  of  Charles  the  Martyr  was  begun  in    1640, 
when  the  parish  was  divided,  but  owing  to  the  Civil  War 
was  not  completed  till  1657.     Of  the  other  more  modern 
parish  churches  there  are  none  of  special  interest.     The 
town  is  the  seat  of  a  Roman  Catholic  bishopric,  the  cathedral 
of  which,  a  good  building  in  the  Early  English  style,  was 
opened  in  1858  at  a  cost  of  £10,000.     Attached  to  it  is 
the  convent  of  Notre  Dame,  and  several   other  religious 
houses  and  chapels.     The  Athenjeum  (1812)  is  the  home 
of  the  Plymouth  Institution  and  the  Devon    and  Corn- 
wall Natural  History  Society.     In  connexion  with  it  there 
are  a  lecture  hall,  a  museum,  art  gallery,  and  a  small  but 
select  scientific  library.    The  Plymouth  Proprietary  Library 
(1812)  has  a  good  selection  of  books  in  general  literature, 
and  the  building  also  contains  the  library  of  the  Plymouth 
Incorporated  Law   Society  and  the  Cottonian  collection, 
which  includes  many  relics  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  and  ^ 
number  of  his  pictures.     The  Free  Public  Library,  estab. 
lished    in   1876,  at  present    occupies  the    old    Guildhall. 
The  principal  educational  establishments  are  the  Western 
College  for  the  training  of  students  for  the  ministry  of  the 
Independent  denomination  ;  the  Plymouth  College,  a  high 
school  for  boys  ;  the  High  School  for  Girls ;   the  Corpora- 
tion Grammar  School,  founded  in  1572  ;  the  Public  School, 
established  in  1809  (one  of  the  largest  public  schools  in 
England) ;  the  Grey  Coat  School ;  the  Blue  Coat  School ; 
the  Orphan's  Aid ;    Lady  Rogers's  School ;   the    Orphan 
Asylum ;  and  the  Household   of  Faith   founded   by  the 
well   known   Dr  Hawker.     The  Plymouth  school   board 
has  nine  schools  in  full  operation ;  and  each  of  the  prin- 
cipal  parishes   has   also   its  parochial    day  school.     The 
charitable  institutions  embrace  the  South  Devon  and  East 
Cornwall  Hospital,  for  which  a  fine  range  of  buildings  has 
lately   been    erected;    the   Devon   and   Cornwall  Female 
Orphan  Asylum  (1834) ;  the  Penitentiary  and  Female  Home 
(1833);  the  Royal  Eye  Infirmary  (1821) ;  the  South  Devon 
and  Cornwall  Institution  for  the  BUnd  (1860,  new  building 
erected  1876),  and  various  other  philanthropic  societies. 
The  only  public   recreation  ground  of  any  extent  is  the 
Hoe  Park,  18  acres,  a  fine  promenade  sloping  gradually  to 
the  sea,  attached  to  which  is  a  handsome  promenade  pier. 
On  the  Hoe  a  statue  in  bronze,  by  Boehm,  of  Sir  Francis 
Drake  was  unveiled  in  1884.     Smeaton's  lighthouse  has 
been  removed  from  the  reef  on  which  it  stood   for  one 
hundred  and  twenty  years,  and  is  now  a  prominent  object  on 
the  Hoe.    The  viewfrom  the  Hoe  includes  Mount  Edgcumbe 
with  its  beautifully  wooded  slopes,  the  Cornwall  hills,  the 
Dartmoor  hills  on  the  north-eastern  horizon,  and  Eddy- 
stone  lighthouse  far  away  over  the  waters  of  the  Channel. 
Plymouth   not   only  holds   a   leading   position   in  the 
country  as  a  naval  station,  but  is  the  centre  of  the  growing 
trade  of  Devonshire  and  Cornwall,  and  is  also  becoming  a 
holiday  centre   and   health  resort.     To  the  south  of  the 
town   is  the  Sound,  protected  by  the  magnificent  break- 
water, within  the  limits  of  which  and  the  harbours  con- 


P  L  Y  I\l  O  U  T  H 


237 


nected  with  it  the  whole  Britjsh  navj  might  find  a  safe 
anchorage.  The  western  harbour,  known  as  the  Hamoaze, 
at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Tamar,  is  devoted  almost  exclu- 
sively to  the  requirements  of  the  royal  navy,  as  along  its 
banks  are  the  dockyard,  the  Keyham  factory,  the  arsenal, 
and  other  Government  establishments  (See  Devonport, 
vol.  vii.,  138;  and  Dockyards,  vol.  vii.,  315).  The 
eastern  harbour,  Cattewater  with  Sutton  Pool,  now  pro- 
tected by  a  new  breakwater  at  Mount  Batten,  is  the 
anchorage  ground  for  merchant  shipping.  Commodious 
dock  accommodation  is  provided  at  the  Great  Western 
Docks,  Millbay,  between  Plymouth  and  Stonehouso,  opened 
in  1857,  and  comprehending  a  floating  basin  over  13  acres 
in  e.xtent  with  a  depth  of  22  feet  at  spring  tides,  a  tidal 
harbour  of  35  acres,  and  a  graving  dock.  The  port  has  an 
extensive  trade  with  America,  the  West  Indies,  Mauritius, 


Africa,  and  the  Baltic  ports,  as  well  as  an  extensive  coast- 
ing trade.  It  is  the  starting  point  for  many  of  the 
emigrant  ships  for  Australia,  New  Zealand,  and  British 
America.  The  chief  exports  are  minerals,  including 
copper,  lead,  tin,  granite,  and  marble.  There  is  also  some 
trade  in  pilchards  and  other  fish.  The  imports  are  chiefly 
agricultural  produce  and  timber.  The  total  number  of 
vessels  that  entered  the  port  in  cargo  and  in  ballast  in 
1883  was  3852,  of  843,227  tons,  the  number  that  cleared 
3443,  of  754,318  tons.  Plymouth  has  few  manufactures, 
the  principal  being  biscuits,  black-lead,  candles,  manures, 
soap,  starch,  sugar,  lead,  and  the  celebrated  PljTnouth  gin. 
The  principal  industries  are  connected  with  shipbuilding, 
^and  the  fisheries.  According  to  the  Act  of  1835,  the 
borough  is  divided  into  six  wards,  and  is  governed  by  a 
mayor,  twelve  aldermen,  and  thirty-six  councillors.     The 


Plan  of  Plymouth. 

water-works  are  under  the  control  of  the  corporation,  but 
the  gas  works  are  in  the  hands  of  a  company.  The  popula- 
tion of  the  municipal  borough  (area  1468  acres)  in  1871 
was  68,758,  and  in  1881  it  was  73,794.  The  population 
of  the  parliamentary  borough  (area  2061  acres)  in  the  same 
years  was  70,091  and  76,080.  It  returns  two  members  to 
parliament. 

The  Hoo  at  Plymoutli  is  claimed  to  bo  the  high  rock  from  which, 
according  to  Geoirroy  of  Monmouth,  Corintcua  the  Trojan  hurled  tho 
pinnt  Goeinagot  into  tho  sea,  and  at  an  early  period  there  wa.s  cut 
out  in  the  ground  at  the  IIoo  tho  likeness  of  two  figures  with  clubs  in 
their  hands,  wliich  for  many  years  was  renewed  by  tho  corporation, 
and  was  in  existence  till  tho  erection  of  the  citadel  about  1C7I. 
Both  Britishand  Roman  remains  have  been  foundin  tho  neighbour- 
hooj,  the  most  important  being  those  of  a  Romano-British  cemetery 
discovered  in  1864  during  tho  constrnction  of  Fort  Stamford.  In 
Domesday  it  occurs  as  Sutone,  and  afterwards  it  was  divided  into 
tile  town  of  Sutton  Prior,  tho  hamlet  of  Sutton  Vallctort,  ond  tho 
tithing  of  Sutton  Ralph,  a  part  of  it  liaving  been  granted  to  the 
Norniau  family  of  Valletort,  while  the  greater  pa^t  belonged  to  tho 


priory  of  Plympton.  About  1253  a  market  was  established,  and  iii 
1292  the  town  lii-st  returned  members  to  parliament.  In  tho  Mlh 
century  it  was  frequently  tho  port  of  embarkation  and  of  disem- 
barkation in  connexion  with  expeditions  to  France.  It  sulTercd 
considerably  at  tho  hands  of  the  French  in  1338,  13.^0,  1377,  1400,, 
and  1402,  tho  Bretons  on  the  last  occasion  destroying  six  hundred 
houses.  In  1412  the  inhabitants  petitioned  for  a  charter,  but  for  a 
long  time  their  application  was  opposed  by  tho  |jrior  and  convent 
of  Plympton.  In  1439  a  charter  was,  however,  at  last  granted  by 
Henry  VI.,  defining  tho  limitsof  tho  town,  permitting  the  erection 
of  w.alls  and  defences,  allowing  the  levying  of  dues  on  ship^iing  for 
the  purpose  of  such  buihlingsand  their  maintenance,  ami  directing 
the  institution  of  a  corporate  body  under  the  title  of  the  "  mayoi' 
and  commonalty  of  tho  borough  of  Plymouth."  Leland  speaks 
(1540-47)  of  Plymouth  harboiff  as  being  cliained  across  in  times  of 
necessity,  and  of  an  "old  '  castel  quadrate'  between  tho  town 
and  the  sea."  A  small  fragment  of  one  of  tho  outer  works  of  this 
castle  still  stands  at  tho  foot  of  Lambhay  Street.  During  iho 
rebellion  of  1648-49  tho  town  siitTored  severely  at  tho  hands  of  tho 
insurgents,  and  according  to  Westcoto  tho  "evidences"  of  tho 
borough  were  burnt  Under  Eli/jibeth  it  rose  to  bo  tlio  foremost 
poi  t  of  England,  and  Camdeu,  who  vi&itcd  tho  town  about  1U88, 


238 


P  L  Y  —  P  L  Y 


states  that  "  though  not  very  large  its  name  and  reputation  is  very' 
great  among  all  nations."  In  the  discovery  of  the  New  World 
It  played  a  part  of  prime  importance.  Martin  Cockeram,  a  native 
of  the  town,  sailed  with  Sebastian  Cabot  when  he  touched  the 
coast  of  America  in  1497.  Sir  John  Hawkins  and  his  father  Wil- 
liam were  natives  of  the  town,  and. in  1571  Sir  John  was  returned 
member  of  parliament  for  the  borough.  In  1572  Sir  Francis 
Drake  left  the  port  for  the  West  Indies,  and  in  1577  he  set  out 
from  it  on  his  voyage  "about  the  earth."  He  was  elected  mayor 
of  the  town  in  1581,  and  in  1592-93  represented  it  in  parliament. 
Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert,  who  was  M.  P.  for  Plymouth  in  1571,  had 
in  1578  received  from  Queen  Elizabeth  letters  patent  for  a  colony 
ia  America  ;  but,  after  setting  out  in  1579,  he  was  compelled  to 
return  with  the  loss  of  his  principal  ship.  In  1583  he  sailed  again 
from  Plymoutli  (see  Gilbert).  In  1585  Drake  again  sailed  from 
Plymouth  for  the  West  Indies,  bringing  back  on  his  return  the 
remnant  of  Raleigh's  Virginian  colony.  The  port  supplied  seven 
ships  against  the  Spanish  Armada,  and  it  was  ia  the  Sound  that 
the  English  fleet  of  120  sail  awaited  the  sighting  of  the  Spaniards. 
In  1590  Drake  was  aueoessfiil  in  the  oft  attempted  task  of  bringing 
in  a  stream  of  fresh  water  for  the  use  of  the  town,  from  the  river 
Meavy  near  Sheepstor,  Dartmoor.  He  and  Sir  John  Hawkins 
sailed  from  Plymouth  on  their  last  voyage  in  1595,  both  dying  at 
sea  in  the  following  year.  Many  other  expeditions  from  Drake's 
time  to  the  present  have  been  despatched  from  this  port,  which  was 
the  last  at  which  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  touched  when  they  set  sail 
for  America.  Plymouth  was  throughout  nearly  the  whole  Civil 
War  closely  invested  by  the  Royalists,  and  was  the  only  town  in 
the  west  of  England  which  never  fell  into-  their  hands.  The  town 
was  one  of  the  first  to  declare  for  William  of  Orange.  It  was  in 
1691,  during  his  reign,  that  the  dockyard  was  commenced.  The 
"  local  literature  "  of  Plymouth  is  singularly  rich  and  comprehensive. 
It  has  also  a  connexion  with  many  men  of  great  eminence.  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  born  at  Plympton,  first  practised  his  art  in  the 
tewn,  and  its  native  artists  are  represented  by  Sir-Charles  Lock 
Eastlake,  James  Northcote,  Benjamin  Robert  Haydon,  and  Samuei 
I'rout.  Besides  Sir  John  Hawkins  and  other  celebrated  seamen, 
it  has  also  given  birth  to  Sir  William  Snow  Harris,  Dr  James 
Yonge,  Dr  John  Kitto,  Dr  S.  P.  Tregelles,  Dr  Robert  Hawker, 
N.  T.  Carrington  the  Dartmoor  poet,  Mortimer  Collins,  and  Sir  R. 
P.  Collier. 

Seelllstorlesby  Worth,  1871,  and  by  Jewitt,  1873;  Rowe,  Ecclesiastical  Bistort/  , 
tf  Old-Plymouth  \  The  Western  Antiquafy;  Worth,  The  Three  Towns  SibiiotL'^a. 

PLYMOUTH,  a  township  and  village  of.  the  United 
States,  the  shire-town  of  Plymouth  county,  Massachusetts, 
and  a  port  of  entry  on  Cape  Cod  Bay,— the  village  lying  at 
the  terminus  of  a  branch  of  the  Old  Colony  Railroad,  37 
miles  south-south-east  of  Boston.     The   main   interest  of 
Plymouth  is  historical,  and  centres  in  the  fact  that  it  was 
the  first  settlement  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  of  New  England, 
who  landed  December  21  (n.  s.),  1620,  on  the  rock  now 
covered  by  a  handsome  granite  canopy  in  Walter  Street. 
Leyden  Street,  so  called  in  memory  of  the  Dutch  town 
where  the  exiles  had  stopped  for  a  season,  is  the  oldest 
street  in  New  England.     The  houses  and  general  appear- 
ance   of    Plymouth    are,    however,    thoroughly    modern. 
Pilgrim  Hall  (which  is  built  of  granite  and  measures  70 
feet  long  by  40  feet  wide)  was  .erected  in  1824-25  by  the 
Pilgrim  Society  constituted  in  1820;  it  contains  a  public 
library  and  many  relics  of  the  fathers — including  Miles 
Standish's  sword  and  Governor  Carver's  chair.     The  corner 
stone  of  a  national  monument  to  the  Pilgrims  was  laid 
August  1,  1859,  on  a  high  hill  near  the  railroad  station; 
1500  tons  of  granite  were  used  for  the  foundation;  and  a 
pedestal  45  feet  high  is  surrounded   by  statues   20  feet 
high 'of  Morality,  Law,  Education,  and  Freedom,  and  bears 
a  colossal  statue  of  Faith,  36  feet  high,  holding  a  Bible 
in  her  right  hand  (the  largest  granite  statue  in  the  world). 
Burying  HiU  was  the  site  of  .the  embattled  church  erected 
in  1622,  and  contains  many  ancient  tombstones  and  the 
foundations  of  the  watchtower  (1643)  now  covered  with 
sod.     Cole's  Hill  is  the  spot  where  half  of  the  "  Mayflower  " 
Pilgrims  found  their  rest  during  the  first  winter.     Five  of 
their  graves  were  discovered  in   1855  while  pipes  for  tlie 
town   water-works  were   being  laid,  and  two  more  ^uow 
marked  with  a  granite  slab)  in  1883.     The  bones  of  the  first 
five  ^re  deposited  in  a  compartment  of  the  canopy  over  the 
"Forefathers'  Rock."      A  town  hall  0749),  the  county 


court-house,  and  the  house  of  correction  are  the  main 
public  buildings  of  Plymouth.  The  population  of  the 
township  was  4758  in  1830,  6024  in  1850,  6238  in  1870, 
7093  in  1880,  and  7500  in  1884.  Manufactures  of  sail- 
duck,  cotton-cloth,  tacks,  nails,  plate-iron,  rolled  zinc  and 
copper  rivets,  hammers,  &c.,  are  carried  on  ;  the  cordage 
factories  are  among  the  largest  and  most  complete  works 
of  the  kind  in  the  world. 

PLYMOUTH,  a  borough  of  the  United  States,  in 
Luzerne  county,  Pennsylvania,  on  the  Bloomsburg  division 
of  the  Delaware,  Lackawanna,  and  Western  Railroad,  8 
miles  from  Wyoming,  is  a  flourishing  coal-mining  town, 
which  increased  its  population  from  2648  in  1870  to  6065 
in  1880.  At  Plymouth  junction,  2  miles  to  the  north- 
east, a  branch  line  to  Wilkesbarre  connects  with  the 
Central  Railroad. 

PLYMOUTH  BRETHREN  (Beethken,  or  Chsistian 
Beethken)  are  a  sect  of  Christians  who  received  the  name 
in  1830  when  the  Rev.  J.  N.  Darby  induced  many  of  the 
inhabitants  of  Plymouth  to  associate  themselves  with  him 
for  the  promulgation  of  opinions  which  they  held  in 
common.  Although  small  Christian  communities  existed 
in  Ireland  and  elsewhere  calling  themselves  Brethren  and 
holding  similar  views,  the  accession  to  the  ranks  of  Ml 
Darby  so  increased  their  numbers  and  influence  that  he  ii 
usually  reckoned  the  founder  of  Plymouthism.  Darby  (bore 
in  Nov.  1800,  in  London  ;  graduated  at  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,  in  1819;  died  April  29,  1882  at  Bournemouth) 
was  a  curate  in  the  Episcopalian  Church  of  Ireland  until 
1827,  when  he  felt  himself  constrained  to  leave 
Established  Church  ;  betaking  himself  to  Dublin,  he  be 
came  associated  with  several  devout  people  who  refused 
all  ecclesiastical  fellowship,  met  statedly  for  public  worship, 
and  called  themselves  the  Brethren.  In  1830  Darby  at 
Plymouth  won  over  a  large  number  of  people  to  his  way 
of  thinking,  among  whom  were  the  Rev.  Benjamin  Wills 
Newton,  who  had  been  a  clergyman  of  the  Established 
Church  of  England ;  the  Rev.  James  L.  Harris,  a  Plymouth 
clergyman ;  and  the  well  known  Biblical  scholar  Dr 
Samuel  Prideaux  Tregelles.  The  Brethren  started  a 
newspaper,  The  Christian  Witness,  continued  under  tha 
names  The  Present  Testimony  (1849)  and  The  Bible  Trea- 
sury (1856),  with  Harris  as  editor  and  Darby  as  the  most 
important  contributor.  During  the  next  eight  years  the 
progress  of  the  sect  was  rapid,  and  communities  of  the 
brethren  were  to  be  found  in  many  of  the  principal  towns 
in  England. 

In  1838  Darby,  after  a  short  stay  in  Paris,  went  to 
reside  in'  French  Switzerland,  and  found  many  disciplea. 
Congregations  were  formed  in  Geneva,  at  Lausanne, 
where  most  of  the  lilethodist  and  other  dissenters  joined 
the  Brethren,  at  Vevey,  and  elsewhere  in  Vaud.  His 
opinions  also  found  their  way  into  Germany,  German 
Switzerland,  Italy,  and  France;  but  French  Switzerland 
has  always  remained  the  stronghold  of  Plymouthism  on 
the  Continent,  and  for  his  followers  there  Mr  Darby  wrote 
two  of  his  most  important  tracts,  Le  llinistere  coisidefe 
dans  sa  Nature  and  De  la,  Presence  et  de  V Action  du  -S. 
Esprit  dans  I'^glise.  The  revolution  in  the  canton 
Vaud,  instigated  by  the  Jesuits  in  1845,  brought  persecu- 
tion to  the  Brethren  in  the  canton  and  in  other  parts  of 
French  Switzerland,  and  Darby,  felt  his  own  life  insecure 
there. 

He  returned  to  EngLnd,  and  his  reappearance  was 
accompanied  by  divisions  among  the  Brethren  at  home. 
These  divisions  began  at  Plymouth.  Mr  B.  Wills  Newton, 
at  the  head  of  the  community  there,  was  accused  of 
departing  from  the  testimony  of  the  Brethren  againas  an 
official  ministry,  and  of  reintroducing  the  spirit  of  cI&S- 
calisra.     Unable   to    detach   the   congregation   from   tbi 


F  N  E  — P  N  E 


23i) 


preacber.  Darby  began  a  rival  and  separate  assembly. 
The  majority  of  the  Brethren  out  of  Plymouth  supported 
Darby,  but  a  minority  kept  by  Newton.  The  separation 
became  wider  in  1847  on  the  discovery  of  supposed 
heretical  teaching  by  Newton.  In  1848  another  divi- 
sion took  place.  The  Bethesda  congregation  at  Bristol, 
Where  Mr  George  Miiller  was  the  most  influential  member, 
received  into  communion  several  of  Newton's  followers 
ind  justified  their  action.  A  large  number  of  communi- 
ties approved  of  their  conduct ;  others  were  strongly 
opposed  to  it.  Out  of  this  came  the  separation  into 
Neutral  Brqthren  led  by  Miiller,  and  Exclusive  Brethren 
5r  Darbyite.s,  who  refused  to  hold  communion  with  the 
'ollowers  of  Newton  or  Miiller.  The  exclusives,  who  were 
the  more  numerous,  suffered  further  divisions.  An  Irish 
flergj'man  named  Cluff  had  adopted  the  views  of  Mr 
Pearsall  Smith,  and  when  these  were  repudiated  seceded 
with  his  followers.  The  most  important  division  among 
the  exclusives  came  to  a  crisis  in  1881,  when  Mr  William 
Kelly  and  Jlr  Darby  became  the  recognized  leaders  of  two 
sections  who  separated  on  some  point  of  discipline.  There 
are  therefore  at  least  five  official  divisions  or  sects  of 
Plymouthists  : — (1)  the  followers  of  Mr  B.  AVills  Newton  ; 
(2)  the  Neutrals,  who  incline  to  the  Congregationalist  idea 
that  each  assembly  should  judge  for  itself  in  matters  of 
discipline,  headed  by  Jlr  George  Miiller ;  (3)  the  Darbyite 
Exclusives  ;  (4)  the  Exclusives  who  follow  Mr  Kelly  ;  and 
(5)  the  followers  of  Mr  Cluff.  The  fundamental  principle 
of  the  Exclusives,  "  Separation  from  evil  God's  principle 
of  unity,"  has  led  to  many  unimportant  excommunications 
and  separations  besides  those  mentioned. 

The  theological  views  of  the  Brethren  do  not  differ  greatly 
from  those  held  by  evangelical  Protestants  (for  a  list  of 
divergences,  see  Reid,  Plymouth  Brethrenism  Unveiled  atid 
Refuted);  they  make  the  baptism  of  infants  an  open  question 
and  celebrate  the  Lord's  Supper  weekly.  Their  distinctive 
doctrines  are  ecclesiastical.  They  hold  that  all  official 
ministry,  anything  like  a  clergj',  whether  on  Episcopalian, 
Presbyterian,  or  Congregationalist  theories,  is  a  denial  of  the 
spiritual  priesthood  of  all  believers,  and  a  striving  against 
the  Holy  Spirit.  Hence  it  is  a  point  of  conscience  to  have 
no  communion  with  any  church  which  possesses  a  regular 
ministry.  The  gradual  growth  of  this  opinion,  and  per- 
haps the  reasons  for  holding  it,  may  bo  traced  in  Mr 
Darby's  earlier  writings.  While  a  curate  in  the  Church  of 
Ireland  he  was  indignant  with  Archbishop  Magee  for 
stopping  the  progress  of  mission  work  among  Roman 
Catholics  by  imposing  on  all  who  joined  the  church  the 
oath  of  supremacy.  This  led  Darby  to  the  idea  that 
established  churches  are  as  foreign  to  the  spirit  of  Christi- 
anity as  the  papacy  is  ("  Considerations  addressed  to  the 
Archbishop  of  Dublin,  &c.,"  Coll.  Works,  vol.  i.  1).  The 
parochial  system,  when  enforced  to  the  extent  of  prohibit- 
ing the  preaching  of  the  gospel  within  a  parish  where  the 
incumbent  was  opposed  to  it,  led  him  to  consider  the 
whole  system  a  hindrance  to  the  proper  work  of  the 
church  and  therefore  anti-Christian  ("  Thoughts  on  the 
present  position  of  the  Home  Mission,"  Coll.  Works,  i. 
78).  And  the  waste  of  power  implied  in  the  refusal  to 
sanction  lay-preaching  seemed  to  him  to  lead  to  the  con- 
clusion that  an  official  ministry  was  a  refusal  of  the  gifts 
of  the  Spirit  to  the  church  ("  On  Lay  Preaching,"  Coll. 
Works,  p.  200).  These  three  ideas  seem  to  have  led  in  the 
end  to  Plymouthism  ;  and  the  movement,  if  it  has  had  small 
results  in  the  formation  of  a  sect,  has  at  least  set  churches 
to  consider  how  they  might  make  their  machinery  more 
elastic.  Perhaps  one  of  the  reasons  of  the  comparatively 
small  number  of  Brethren  may  be  found  in  their  idea  that 
their  mission  is  not  to  the  heathen  but  to  "  the  awakened 
in  tho  churches." 


AjUhoritics.—'DiThy,  Collected  Works,  32  vols.,  edited  by  Kelly  ; 
Reid,  I'll/mouth  Brethrenism  Unveiled  and  Rtfuted,  3d  ed.,  1880, 
and  Hislory  and  Literature  of  the  so-called  Plymouth  Brethren, 
2d  ed.,  1876;  Miller,  Tlu:  Brethren,  tlteir  Rise,  Progress,  and 
Testimony,  1879  ;  Teulon.  History  and  Dndrincs  of  the  Plymouth 
Brethren,  1883.  (T.  M.  L.) 

PNEUMATIC  DESPATCH.  The  transport  of  written 
despatches  through  long  narrow  tubes  by  the  agency  of 
air-pressure  was  introduced  in  1853,  by  !Mr  Latimer  Clark, 
between  the  Central  and  Stock  Exchange  stations  of  the 
Electric  and  International  Telegraph  Company  in  London. 
The  stations  were  connected  by  a  tube  IJ  inches  in 
diameter  and  220  yards  long.  Carriers  containing  batches 
of  telegrams,  and  fitting  piston-wise  in  the  tube,  were 
sucked  through  it  (in  one  direction  only)  by  the  production 
of  a  partial  vacuum  at  one  end.  In  1858  !Mr  C.  F.  Varley 
improved  the  system  by  using  compressed  air  to  force  the 
carriers  in  one  direction,  a  partial  vacuum  being  still  used 
to  draw  them  in  the  other  direction.  This  improvement 
enables  single  radiating  lines  of  pipe  to  be  used  both  for 
sending  and  for  receiving  telegrams  between  a  central 
station  supplied  with  pumping  machinery  and  outlying 
stations  not  so  supplied.  In  the  hands  of  Messrs  CuUey 
and  Sabine  this  radial  system  of  pneumatic  despatch  has 
been  brought  to  great  perfection  in  connexion  with  the 
telegraphic  department  of  the  British  post  office.  Another 
method  of  working,  e.^tensively  used  in  Paris  and  other 
Continental  cities,  is  the  circuit  system,  in  which  stations 
are  grouped  on  circular  or  loop  lines,  round  which  carriers 
travel  in  one  direction  only.  In  one  form  of  circuit  .system 
—that  of  Messrs  Siemens — a  continuous  current  of  air  is 
kept  up  in  the  tube,  and  rocking  switches  are  provided  by 
which  carriers  can  be  quickly  introduced  or  removed  at 
any  one  of  the  stations  on  the  line  without  interfering 
with  the  movement  of  other  carriers  in  other  parts  of  the 
circuit.  More  usually,  however,  the  circuit  system  is 
worked  by  despatching  carriers,  x>t  trains  of  carriers,  at 
relatively  long  intervals,  the  pressui-e  or  vacuum  which 
gives  motive  power  being  applied  only  while  such  trains 
are  on  the  line.  On  long  circuits  means  are  provided  at 
several  stations  for  putting  on  pressure  or  vacuum,  so  that 
the  action  may  be  limited  to  that  section  of  the  line  on 
which  tho  carriers  are  travelling  at  any  time. 

The  followiiig  particulars  refer  to  the  radial  system  of  pneumatic 
despatch  as  used  in  tho  British  post  ofhco.  In  London  most  of  the 
lines  connect  Vhe  central  office  with  district  offices  for  tho  pur^>oso 
of  collecting  and  distributing  telegrams.  Iron  tubes  wore  used  in 
some  of  tlie  earliest  lines,  but  now  tho  tubes  are  always  made  of 
load,  with  soldered  joints,  and  are  enclosed  in  outer  pipes  of  iroii 
for  the  sake  of  mechanical  protection.  The  bore,  which  is  very 
smooth  and  uniform,  is  normally  2\  inches,  though  in  a  few  cases 
it  is  as  much  as  3  inclies,  and  in  some  only  IJ  inches.  Tho  greatest 
single  length  of  any  of  tho  existing  London  lines  is  3873  yards, 
but  a  more  usual  length  is  from  1000  to  2000  yards.  In  most 
cases  a  single  tube  serves  both  to  send  and  to  receive,  but  where 
the  traflic  is  heavy  a  pair  of  tubes  are  used,  one  to  send  by  jircssuro 
and  tho  other  to  receive  by  vacuum.  The  pumps,  whicii  supply 
pressure  and  vacuum  to  two  mains,  are  situnted  in  tho  ccntr.il 
office.  At  tho  outlying  stations  tho  tubes  tcrminalo  in  a  glass 
box,  open  to  the  atmosphere.  At  tho  central  station  tho  end  of 
each  tube  is  a  short  vertical  length,  facing  downwards,  and  )iro- 
vidcd  with  a  double  valve,  consisting  of  two  sluices,  one  at  tho 
end  and  the  other  a  little  way  above  tho  end,  tho  distance  between 
the  sluices  being  somewhat  longer  than  tho  length  of  a  currier. 
Tho  sluices  aro  geared  together  in  such  a  manner  that  a  singlo 
movement  of  a  handle  closes  one  and  ojiens  tho  other,  or  vice  versa. 
To  send  a  carrier  from  tho  central  station,  tho  carrier  is  introduced 
into  tho  tube,  the  lower  sluice  being  open  ;.  a  singln  movcinent  of 
the  handle  then  successively  (1)  clo.scs  the  lower  sluice,  (2)  o|iens  lh« 
upper  sluice,  and  (3)  opens  a  valve  which  admits  air  behind  tho 
carrier  from  tlio  compressed-air  main.  As  soon  as  tho  arrival  of  tho 
carrier  is  signalled  (electrically)  from  tho  out-station,  the  handle 
is  pushed  back,  thus  (1)  cutting  off  tho  compressed  air,  (2)  closing 
the  upper  sluice,  and  (3)  opening  tho  lower  sluice.  Tho  lube  is 
then  ready  for  the  sending  of  another  caiTicr.  When  an  clcctrio 
signal  arrives  from  an  out  stjition  that  a  carrier  is  inserted  thero 
for  transmission  to  tho  central  station  tho  handio  is  pulled  lOi' 


240 


FN  E  — P  N  E 


ward  far  enough  to  close  tlie  lower  and  open  the  upper  sluice, 
but  not  far  enough  to  put  on  the  air-pressure.  The  vacuum  main 
is  then  put  in  connexion  with  the  tube  by  a  separate  stop-cock. 
When  the  carrier  arrives  the  vacuum  is  shut  otf  and  the  lower 
sluice  opened  to  allow  it  to  drop  out.  This  arrangement  of  double 
sluices  admits  of  the  insertion  or  removal  of  a  carrier  while  other 
carriers  are  travelli'.g  in  the  same  tube,  and  without  sensible  dis- 
turbance of  their  motion.  But  great  caution  requires  to  be  cterciscd 
ia  allowing  two  or  more  carriers  to  follow  one  another  on  a  single 
section  of  line,  especially  on  lines  worked  by  pressure,  since-no  two 
carriers  travel  at  precisely  the  same  speed.  When  the  same  tube 
is  used  alternately  for  sending  and-  receiving  the  upper  sluice  is 
dispensed  with.  On  some  lines  there  are  intermediate  stations, 
and  the  sections  are  then  worked  by  a  block  system  like  that  used 
on  railways.  The  carriers  are  cylindrical  cases  of  gutta-percha 
covered  with  felt,  which  is  allowed  to  project  loosely  at  the  back,  so 
that  the  pressure  makes  it  expand  and  fit  the  pipe  closfily.  In 
front  the  carrier  is  closed  by  a  buffer  or  piston  composed  of  disks 
of  felt  of  the  diameter  of  the  pipe.  The  despatches  are  held  in  by 
an  elastic  band  at  the  back.  An  ordinary  carrier  weighs  2|  oz., 
and  holds  about  a  dozen  despatches.  During  business  hours 
carriers  are  passing  through  tlie  London  tubes  abnost  incessantly. 
With  a  pressure  of  10  lb  per  square  inch,  or  a  vacuum  of  7  ft,  the 
time  of  transit,  if  through  a  2J:  inch  tube,  is  1  minute  for  a  length 
of  nearly  1000  yards,  and  5  J  minutes  for  a  length  of  3000  yards. 

The  following  statistics  show  the  growth  of  the  pneumatic 
despatch  in  tlifi  post  office  during  ten  years  (the  figures  for  1875  are 
taken  from  a  paper  by  Messrs  Culley  and  Sabine,  cited  below,  and 
those  for  1885  have  been  furnished  by  Mr  W.  H.  Preece) :  — 


January  1S75. 

January  1885. 

No.  of  Tubes. 

Total  Length. 

No.  of  Tubes. 

Total  Length. 

London 

Liverpool 

Glasgow 

Dublin 

25 
i 
1 
3 
5 
3 
0 

Miles.  Yaids. 

17      1160 

1     1237 

242 

940 

1       266 

917 

0 

82 
5 
5 
5 
6 
4 
1 

Miles.  Yards, 

33       635 

2         39 

1     1142 

1       954 

1       294 

1235 

460 

Manchester ... 
Birmingliam.. 
Newcastle 

Total 

41 

21     1242 

108 

40     1239 

1  Including  29  shoit  *' house"  tubes. 

In  Paris  large  areas  of  the  city  have  been  covered  by  pneumatic 
circuits  made  up  of  iron  pipes  round  which  omnibus  trains  of  carriers 
are  sent  at  intervals  of  fifteen  minutes.  The  trains  consist  of 
several  carriers  much  heavier  than  the  English  type,  linked  to  one 
another  and  to  a  leading  piston.  The  trains  are  stopped  at  the  suc- 
cessive stations  to  take  up  and  deposit  despatches.  The  pneumatic 
despatch  took  root  in  Paris  in  1866,  and  has  been  developed  there 
in  a  way  which  differs  greatly  in  mechanical  details  from  the 
English  system.  An  arrangement  like  that  used  in  Paris  has  been 
followed  in  Vienna  and  in  Berlin,  where  the  Siemens  system  has 
also  been  used.  In  New  York  the  EiK^lish  system  is  adonted,  but 
with  brass  instead  of  lead  tubes. 

Interruptions  occurring  in  the  pipes  can  be  localized  by  firing  a 
pistol  at  one  end  and  registering  by  a  chronograph  the  interval 
of  time  between  the  explosion  and  the  arrival  of  the  air-wave 
reflected  from  the  obstacle. 

In  addition  to  its  use  for  postal  and  telegraphic  purposes  the 
pneumatic  despatch  is  occasionally  employed  for  internal  com- 
munication in  offices,  hotels,  kc,  and  also  in  shops  for  the  transport 
of  money  and  bills  between  the  cashier's  desk  and  the  counters. 

References. — The  system  as  now  used  in  the  United  Kingdom  is  fully  described 
in  a  paper  by  Messrs  Culley  and  Sabine  (Min.  Proe.  Jnst.  Civ.  Eng.,  vol.  xliii.). 
The  same  volume  contains  adescription  of  the  pneumatic  telegraphs  of  Paris  and 
of  experiments  on  them  by  M.  Bontemps,  and  also  a  discussion  of  the  tbeory  of 
pneumatic  transmission  by  Prof.  W.  C.  Unwin.  P.eference  should  also  be 
made  to  a  paper  by  C.  Siemens  {Min.  Proc.  Inst.  Civ.  £ng.,  vol.  xxxiii.)  de- 
scribing the  Siemens  circuit  system  ;  and  to  Let  T^Ugraphes,  by  M.  A.  L.  Ternant 
<Paris,  W81).  ,  (J.  A.  E.) 

PNEUMATICS  is  that  department  of  hydrodynamics 
■which  treats  of  the  properties  of  gases  as  distinct  from 
liquids.  Under  Hydromechanics  will  be  found  a  general 
discussion  of  the  subject  as  a  branch  of  mathematical 
physics ;  here  \ye  shall  limit  our  attention  mainly  to  the 
experimental  aspect. 

The  gaseous  fluid  with  which  we  have  chiefly  to  do  is 
our  atmosphere.  Though  practically  invisible,  it  appeals 
in '  its  properties  to  other  of  our  senses,  so  that  the 
evidences  of  its  presence  are  manifold.  Thus  we  feel  it  in 
its  motion  as  wind,  and  observe  the  dynamical  effects  of 
this  motion  in  the  quiver  of  the  leaf  or  the  momentum  of 


the  frigate  under  weigh.  It  offers  resistance  to  the  passage: 
of  bodies  through  it,  destroying  their  motion  and  trans- 
forming their  energy — as  is  betrayed  to  our  hearing  in  the 
whiz  of  the  rifle  bullet,  to  our  sight  in  the 'flash  of  the 
meteor.  In  its  general  physical  properties  air  has  much 
in  common  with  other  gases.  It  is  advisable  therefore  first 
to  establish  these  general  properties,  and  then  consider  the 
characteristic  features  of  the  several  gases. 

Matter  is  conveniently  studied  under  the  two  great 
divisions  of  solids  and  fluids.  The  practically  obvious 
distinction  between  these  may  be  stated  in  dynamieall 
language  thus  : — solids  can  sustain  a  longitudinal  pressure 
without  being  supported  by  a  lateral  pressure ;  fluids  can- 
not. Hence  any  region  of  space  enclosed  by  a  rigid 
boundary  can  be  easily  filled  with  a  fluid,  which  then  takes 
the  form  of  the  bounding  surface  at  every  point  of  it.  But 
here  we  distinguish  between  fluids  according  as  they  are 
gases  or  liquids.  The  gas  wLU  always  completely  fill  the 
region,  -however  small  the  quantity  put  in.  Remove  any 
portion  and  the  remainder  will  expand  so  as  to  fill  the 
whole  space  again.  On  the  other  hand  it  requires  a  de^^ 
finite  quantity  of  liquid  to  fill  the  region.  Remove  any 
portion  and  a  part  of  the  space  will  be  left  unoccupie4 
by  liquid.  Part  of  the  liquid  surface  is  then  otherwisa 
conditioned  than  by  the  form  of  the  wall  or  bounding 
surface  of  the  region  ;  and  if  the  portion  of  the  wall  not  ia 
contact  with  the  liquid  is  removed  the  form  and  quantity 
of  the  liquid  are  in  no  way  affected.  Hence  a  liquid  can 
be  kept  in  an  open  vessel ;  a  gas  cannot  so  be. 

The  mutual  action  between  any  two  portions  of  matter 
is  called  the  stress  between  them.  This  stress  has  two 
aspects,  according  as  its  effect  or  tendency  is  considered 
with  reference  to  the  one  or  the  other  body.  Thus 
between  the  earth  and  moon  there  is  a  stress  which  is  an 
attraction.  The  one  aspect  is  the  force  which  attracts  the 
moon  to  the  earth ;  the  other  is  the  force  which  attracts 
the  earth  to  the  moon.  According  to  Newton's  third  law 
of  motion  these  are  equal  and  opposite.  Similarly,  the 
repulsive  stress  between  the  like  poles  of  two  magnets  haa 
its  two  aspects,  which  are  equal  but  oppositely  directed 
forces.  In  the  case  of  a  mass  hanging  by  a  cord,  the  stress 
is  a  tension  at  every  point  of  the  cord.  At  any  given 
point  this  tension  has  two  equal  and  opposite  aspects, 
one  of  which  is  the  weight  of  the  mass  and  the  portion  of 
the  cord  below  the  given  point.  Finally,  the  stress  between 
any  body  and  the  horizontal  table  on  which  it  rests  is  a 
two-faced  pressure,  being  downwards  as  regards  the  table, 
upwards  as  regards  the  body.  The  total  pressure  upon 
the  table  over  the  whole  surface  of  contact  is  clearly  the 
weight  of  the  body.  If  the  total  pressure  is  supposed  to 
be  uniformly  distributed,  the  measure  of  the  pressure  on 
unit  surface  is  the  quotient  of  this  weight  by  the  area  of 
the  surface,  'When  we  speak  of  pressure  at  a  point,  it  ia 
this  pressure  on  unit  surface  that  is  meant.  When  the 
pressure  varies  from  point  to  point  over  a  silrface,  the 
pressure  at  any  point  is  defined  to  be  the  limit  of  the  ratio 
of  the  total  pressure  over  any  small  element  of  surface 
around  that  point  to  the  area  of  the  element  as  the 
element  is  diminished  indefinitely, ' 

The  stress  which  exists  between  the  contiguous  portions 
of  a  fluid  is  of  the  nature  of  a  pressure.  The  ideal  or 
perfect  fluid  is  a  substance  in  which  this  stress  between 
contiguous  portions  is  always  perpendicular  to  the  common 
interface.  In  other  words  there  is  no  stress  tangential  to 
the  interface  at  any.  point.  Hence  if  the  contiguous 
portions  are  at  relative  rest,  or  have,  a  relative  motion 
-  parallel  to  the  interface,  neither  state  can  be  affeWed  by 
the  mutual  stress.  This  condition  is  perfectly  fulfilled  in 
the  case  of  any  known  fluid  in  equilibrium  ;  but  for  a  fluid 
in  motion  it  is  not  even  approximately  fulfiUed.     For,  anj» 


PNEUMATICS 


241 


visible  relative  motion  set  up  among  the  parts  of  a  fluid 
rapidly  decays  ia  virtue  of  viscosity,  which  even  for  the 
subtlest  gases  is  .quite  appreciable  in  its  efEecta. 

In  a  fluid  at  rest,  then,  the  pressure  over  any  surface 
which  we  may  imagine  to  be  drawn  is  perpendicular  (or 
normal)  to  the  surface  at  every  point  of  it ;  and  from  this 
it  follows  at  once,  as  has  been  proved  in  Hydromechanics, 
vol.  xii.  p.  439,  that  the  pressure  at  any  point  of  a  fluid  at 
rest  has  the  same  value  in  all  possible  directions. 

The  pressures  at  two  contiguous  points  in  a  fluid  may 
cither  differ  or  not.  If  they  differ,  the  change  of  pressure 
must  be  balanced  by  some  extraneous  force  acting  on  the 
fluid  in  the  direction  in  which  the  pressure  increases.  Any 
direction  in  which  no  such  force  acts  must  be  a  direction 
in  which,  there  is  no  change  of  pressure ;  otherwise,  equi- 
librium wi,ll  be  destroyed.  Suppose  now  the  resultant 
force  at  every  point  in  a  fluid  at  rest  to  be  given.  In 
directions  at  right  angles  to  the  force  at  any  given  point 
the  pressure  will  not  vary.  Hence  we  can  pass  to  an 
infinite  number  of  contiguous  points  at  which  the  pressure 
is  the  same  as  at  the  given  point.  By  making  eaeh  of 
these  in  turn  the  warting-point,  we  can  pass  on  to  another 
set  of  point.i;  and  so  gradually  trace  out  within  the  fluid  a 
surface  at  every  point  of  which  the  pressure  is  the  same. 
Such  a  surface  ia  called  a  surface  of  equal  pressure,  or  briefly 
"K  level  surface  ;  and  we  see  from  the  mode  of  its  construc- 
tion that  it  is  at  every  point  of  it  perpendicular  to  the 
resultant  force  at  that  point. 

Imagine  any  two  contiguous  level  surfaces  to  be  drawn, 
at  every  point  of  the  one  of  which  the  pressure  is  p,  at 
every  point  of  the  other  p  +  Sp.  Consider  the  equilibrium 
of  a  small  column  of  average  density  p,  bounded  at  its  ends 
by  these  surfaces.  Let  A  be  the  area  of  each  end,  and  Sr 
L^e  length  of  the  column  or  perpendicular  distance  between 
the  lev?l  surfaces.  If  R  is  the  average  resultant  force  per 
unit  mabs  acting  on  the  column,  then  we  have,  for 
equilibrium  of  the  column, 

ASp  —  ASr.  pR , 
or  tp  —  S.pSr. 

or  the  rate  of  increase  of  the  pressure  at  any  point  per 
unit  of  length  at  right  angles  to  the  level  surface  is  equal 
to  the  resultant  force  per  unit  of  volume  at  that  point. 

If  the  applied  forces  belong  to  a  conservative  system, 
for  which  V  is  the  potential  (see  Mechanics),  we  may 
write  the  equation  in  the  form 

5p-  -p5V. 
Ipo.  Hence  over  any  equipotential  surface,  for  which  8V  — 0,  p 
l»I  is  constant,  and  is  therefore  a  function  of  V.  Consequently 
*'*'•  p  also  is  a  function  of  V.  For  a  fluid  in  equilibrium, 
therefore,  and  under  the  influence  of  a  conservative  system 
of  forces,  the  pressure  and  density  are  constant  over  every 
equipotential  surface,  that  is,  over  every  surface  cutting  the 
lines  of  force  at  right  angles. 

Now  in  the  case  of  gaSes,  to  which  our  attention  is  at 
present  confined,  the  density  (temperature  remaining  con- 
stant) varies  with  every  change  of  pressure ;  in  mathemat- 
ical language  p  is  a  function  of  p.  Thus,  before  we  can 
solve  the  equation  of  equilibrium  for  a  gas,  we  must  be 
able  to  express  this  function  mathematically  ;  in  other 
Words,  we  must  know  the '  exact  relation  between  the 
density  of  a  gas  and  the  pressure  to  which  it  is  subject. 
This  problem,  which  can  only  be  settled  by  experiment, 
was  solved  for  the  case  of  air  within  a  certain  range  of 
pressures  by  Robert  Boyle  (1GG2).  Before  discussing 
his  results  and  the  later  results  of  other  investigators,  we 
shall  first  consider  the  general  properties  of  our  atmo- 
sphere as  recognized  before  Boyle's  day. 

It  is  evident  that,  for  a  fluid  situated  as  our  atmosphere 
ifl,  the  pressure  must  diminish  as  wo  ascend.     The  equi- 

19-11 


potential  surfaces  and  consequently  the  surfaces. of  equal 
pressure  and  of  equal  density  will  be  approximately  spheres 
concentric  with  the  earth.  At  any  point  ihere  will  be  & 
definite  atmospheric  pressure,  which  is  equal  numerically 
to  the  weight  of  the  superincumbent  vertical  cjlumn  of 
air  of  unit  cross-section.  The  effect  of  this  pressure,  aa 
exemplified  in  the  action  of  the  common  suction-pump, 
seems  to  have  been  first  truly  recognized  by  Galileo,  who 
showed  that  the  maximum  depth  from  which  water  can 
be  pumped  is  equal  to  the  height  of  the  water  colunm 
which  would  exert  at  its  base  a  pressure  equal  to  the 
atmospheric  pressure.  As  an  experimental  verification, 
he  suggested  filling  with  water  a  long  pipe  closed  at  the 
upper  end,  and  immersing  it  with  its  lower  and  c^en  end 
in  a  reservoir  of  the  same  liquid  The  liquid  surface  ia 
the  pipe  would;  if  the  pipe  were  long  enough,  stand  at  a 
definite  height,  which  would  be  the  same  for  all  longer 
lengths  of  pipe.  The  practical  diflSculty  of  constructing  u 
long  enough  tube  (33  feet  at  least)  prevented  the  experi- 
ment being  really  made  till  many  years  later. 

Torricelli,  however,  in  1642,  by  substituting  mercury  for  Torri- 
water,  produced  the  experiment  on  a  manageable  scale.    As  cell;''  •«■ 
mercury  is  denser  than  water  in  the  ratio  of  about  13.6:1,  P*''"'^*'* 
the  mercury  column  necessary  to  balance   by  its  weight 
the  atmospheric  pressure  will  be  less  than  the  water  column 
in  the  inverse  ratio,  or  a  little  under  30  inches.     Torricelli'a 
experiment  is  exhibited  in  every  mercurial  barometer  (see 
Barometer  and  Meteorology).     By  this  experiment  he 
not  only  gave  the  complete  experimental  verification  of 
Galileo's  views  relating  to  atmospheric  pressure,  but  pro- 
vided a  ready  means  of  measuring  that  pressure. 

The  most  obvious  applications  of  the  barometer  are 
these  : — (1)  to  measure  the  variation  ^in  time  of  atmo- 
spheric pressure  at  any  one  locality  on  the  earth's  sur- 
face (the  existence  of  _  this  variation  was  discovered 
soon  after  the  date  of  Torricelli's  experiment  by  Pascal, 
Descartes,  Boyle,  and  others) ;  (2)  to  measure  the  varia- 
tion of  atmospheric  pressure  with  change  of  height  above 
the  earth's  surface  (Descartes  mentions  this  application 
in  the  Principia  Philosophise,  1644  ;  but  to  Pascal  ia  the 
honour  due  of  having  first  carried  the  experiment  into 
execution,  1647)  ;  and  (3)  to  compare  pressures  at  different 
localities  which  are  on  the  same  level  (if  the  pressures 
are  equal,  the  air  is  in  equilibrium ;  if  they  are  not,  there 
must  be  flow  of  air  from  the  place  of  higher  pressure  to 
that  of  lower — in  other  words,  there  must  be  wind,  whose 
direction  of  motion  depends  on  the  relative  position  of  the 
places,  and  whose  intensity  depends  on  the  distance  between 
the  places  and  the  difference  of  pressures).  The  first  and  last 
of  these  raeasurenients  are  of  the  greatest  importance  in 
meteorology.  The  second  is  a  valuable  method  for  measur- 
ing attainable  heights,  and  is  intimately  connected  with  the 
problem  as  to  the  relation  between  the  pressure  and  density 
of  the  air.  Thus  it  would  be  possible,  by  barometric 
observations  at  a  scries  of  points  in  the  same  vertical  line, 
to  obtain  a  knowledge  of  this  relation — more  and  more 
truly  approximate  the  closer  and  more  numerous  the  points 
of  observation  taken.  At  best,  however,  such  a  method 
could  give  the  law  connecting  density  with  pressure  for 
those  pressures  only  which  are  less  than  the  normal  atmo- 
spheric pressure.     The  problem  is  better  solved  otherwise. 

Assuming  lioylo's  law  tliat  tlu)  densily  of  air  ij  dirfcfty  <u  thi 
pressure,  we  can  now  iutoKrato  the  equation  of  equilibrium  f 


and  put  it  iu  tho  form 


J/i-  -p«V, 


where  p,  is  tho  pressure  at  zero  potential  and  E  ia  the  constant 
ratio  of  the  proasure  to  tho  density. 

For  all  ttttaiii.ablo  heights  in  our  atmosphere  wo  may  ns.sumo  the 
force  of  gravity  to  bo  tho  same.     Hence  wo  may  write   V— j^,- 


242 


PNEUMATICS 


^viierc  g  is  Uie  force  acting  on  unit  mass.  aJLtieiglit  h.  If  w.e  put 
K  =</H,  the  etiuatiou  UtCuiucs 

M-here  H  is  obviously  the  height  of  a  fluicTof  uniform  density  Po/K 
which  would  give  at  it&  base  the  pressure^o— in  other  words,  the 
height  of  the  homogeneous  atmosphere,  as  it  is  called. .  Its  value  is 
readily  found,  since  it  bears  to  the  height  of  the  mercurial  baro- 
metric column  the  same  ratio  which  the  density  of  meicury  bears 
to  the  density  of  the  atmosphere  at  the  sea-level.  For  dry  air 
at  0°  C.  and  wit'h  g  taken  as  equal  to  981  dynes  (-32-2  poundals 
nearly),  the  value  of  H  is  7-9887  x  lO*  centimetres,  or  26,210  feet. 
Hence  tlie  formula  giving  the  height  above  the  sea-level  in  terms 
9f  the  pressure  may  be  written, 

/i=.7-9887xlO'xNap.  log.  (jOj/p... 
In  practice  this  formula  must  be  modified  to  suit  regions  w^ere  3  is 
other  than  981,  and  where  the  temperature  is  other  than  0  .  The 
effect  of  the  water-vapour  present  must  also  be  taken  into  account, 
and  the  constants  involved  carefully  tested  by  observation.  The 
pubject  ia  treated  in  detail  under  Baro.meter. 

In   an    appendix    to    the   New    Exjienments,    Physico- 
Mechanical,  d-c,  touching  the  Spring  of  Air  (166.0),  Robert 
Boyle  states    that    the    density  of  air  is  directly  as  the 
.pressure.     His  apparatus  and  method  of  experiment  are 
as  follows.     A  U-shaped  tube  is  taken,  one  of  whose  limbs 
is  considerably  longer  than  the  other.     The  shorter  limb 
is   closed  at  the    end;  and  the   whole  apparatus   is    set 
vertically  with  the  open  end  pointing  upwards.     A  small 
quantity  of  mercury  fills  the  bend,  so  that  at  the  beginning 
of  the  experiment  the  two  mercury  surfaces  are  at  the 
same  level.     Hence  the  air  confined  in  the  shorter  limb  is 
Subjected  to  a  pressure  aloug  its  lower  surface  equal  to 
the  atmospheric  pressure,  or  one  atmosphere  as  it  is  com- 
monly called.     As  the  height  of   the  air  column  in  the 
closed  tube  is  small,  the  pressure  and  density  are  practic- 
ally the  same  throughout.     Now  let  mercury  bo  poured 
into  the  longer  limb.     The  free   mercury  surface  will  be . 
observed  to  rise  in  the  shorter  limb,  so  that  the  air  con- 
fined there  becomes  compressed  into  smaller  bulk.  •  Since 
the  mass  of  air  has  not  altered,  the  density  is  obviously 
inversely  as  the  bulk,  and  can  therefore  be  easily  measured. 
Again,  the  pressure  to  which  the  confined  air  is  now  sub- 
jected is  equal  to  the  pressure  over  that  surface  in  the 
mercury  in  the  open  limb  which  is  at  the  same  level  as 
the  free  mercury  surface  in  the  closed  limb.     But  this  pres- 
sure is  clearly  the  sum  of  the  atmospheric  pressure  and  the 
pressure  due  to  the  supenncumbent  column  of  mercury, 
which  latter  can   be  readily  expressed  in  atmospheres  if 
the  height  of  the  barometer  is  known.     In  other  words, 
divide  the  vertical  distance  between  the  two  mercury  sur- 
faces by  the  height  of  the  barometer  column.    The  quotient 
added  to  unity  gives  the  required  pressure  in  atmospheres. 
Fourteen   years  after    the   date  of   the  publication  of 
Boyle's,  results,    Mariotte,*    working   independently,    dis- 
covered the  same  law,  which  is  still  widely  known  on  the 
Continent  as  Mariotte's  law.'    He   supplemented   Boyle's 
experiments  by  investigating  the  effect  of  pressures  less 
than  that  of  the  atmosphere,  and  proved  that  the  same 
law  held  "at  these  diminished  pressures.     His  method  was 
essentially  as  follows.     A  barometer  tube  is  filled  in  the 
ordinary  way  with  mercury  and  fixed  up  as  in  the  Tor- 
ricellian experiment.      A  little  air  is  then  introduced  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  tube  which  is  dipping  in  the  reservoir 
of  mercury.     This  air  travels   up  the  tube  and  fills  the 
Torricellian  vacuum  at  the  top,  thereby  depressing  to  a 
slight   extent    the    barometer    column.     The   amount   of 
depression  divided  by  the  true  height  of  the  barometer 
gives  the  pressure  in  atmospheres  which  acts  upon  the  air 
in  the  tube.     The  tube,  always  kept  truly  vertical,  dips  in 
d  reservoir  of    mercury  sufficiently  deep  to  admit  of  its 
complete  immersion.     For  a  certain  position  of  the  tube 
the  free  surfaces  of  mercury  in  the  tube  and  reservoir  are 

'  TruHi  de  la  Mature  de  I' Air,  167Q. 


at  the  same  level.  For  that  position  the  confined  air  is 
at  the  atmospheric  pressure ;  and  for  any  higher  position 
of  the  tube  the  pressure  in  the  confined  mass  of  air  is  1^3 
than  the  atmospheric  pressure  by  the  pressure  due  to  the 
column  of  mercury  between  the  free  surfaces.  Kecent 
experiments  by  Kraevitch  and  Petersen  (Journal  of  the 
Bussian  Chemical  Society,  vol.  xvi.)  seem  to  show  that 
very  rarefied  air  is  very  far  from  obeying  Boyle  s  law„  ••  At 
such  low  pressure,  the  condensation  of  the  gas  upon  soUcJ 
surfaces  is  an  important  factor. 

For  most  ordinary  purposes  Boyle's  law— tnat,  at  con- 
stant temperature,  the  density  of  a  gas  vanes  directly  a^ 
the  pressure— may  be  assumed  to  be  true,  at  least  toi< 
moderate  rajiges  of  pressure  ;  but  the  careful  mvestigationg 
of  later  experimenters,  such  as  Oersted,  Despretz,  I>ulong, 
Recnault,  Andrews,  CaiUetet,  and  Amagat,  have  prove(^ 
that  the  law  is  only  approximate  for  every  known  gas^ 
and  that  the  deviation  from  correspondence  with  the  la^ 
is  different  for  each  gas.  The  most  recent  investigations 
are  those  of  CaiUetet  and  Amagat,  who  have  earned  tha 
results  to  much  higher  pressures  than  former  expenmenters 
employed.  Both  adopted  in  the  first  place  a  form  of 
apparatus  essentially  the  same  as  Boyle's, .  only  much 
longer.  The  gas  was  eu'goc.tcd  to  the  pressure  of  a 
mercury  column  enclosed  in  a  strong  narrow  steel  tube ; 
and,  as  oxygen  acts  vigorously  upon  mercury  at  high 
pressures,  nitrogen  was  used.  In  this  way  CaiUetet  ^ 
attained  to  a  pressure  of  182  metres  of  mercury,  and' 
Amagat '  to  a  pressure  of  nearly  330. 

Having  thus  determined  accurately  the  corresponding 
pressures  and  densities  of  nitrogen,  Amagat  proceeded  to 
determine  the  relation  for  other  gases  by  PouiUet's 
differential  method.  That  is,  the  pressure  to  which  the 
new  gas  was  subjected  was  made  to  act  simultaneous! j 
upon  a  given  mass  of  nitrogen,  whose  volume  could  be 
readily  measured  and  pressure  estimated.  Oxygen,  hydro- 
gen, carbonic  oxide,~dry  air,  olefiant  gas,  and  marsh  gas 
were  investigated  in  this  way.  The  general  ■  results 
obtained  by  Amagat  are  exhibited  in  the  subjoined  chart 
taken  from  his  paper.  For  all  gases  except  hydrogen  the 
product /)ii  (pressure  into  volume),  instead  of  being  con- 
stant, as  Boyle's  law  would  require,  diminishes  at  first  as 
the  pressure  is  increased.  At  a  certain  pressure,  however, 
different  for  each  gas,  the  diminution  ceases,  and  if  the 
pressure  is  stiU  further  increased  the  product  pv  begin! 
to  increas«  also,  and  continues  so  to  do  to  the  greatest 
pressure  used.  In  the  case  of .  hydrogen  the  product 
increases  from  the  very  beginning. 

On  the  diagram,  abscissae  represent  pressures 'in  metres  of 
mercury,  and  the  ordinates  represent  the  deviations  from  the 
Boylean  law.  .It  will  be  observed  that  aU  the  curves  pass  through 
the  point  on  the  pressure  axis  which  represents  a  pressure  of  24 
metres  of  mercury.  If  ir  represents  the  product  pv  for  any  gas  at 
this  pressure,  and  ir'  the  corresponding  product  for  auy  other  prea: 
sure,  theu  we  may  write 

7r/jr'  =  l-f5, 

where  S  represents  the  deviation  from  Boyle's  law.  -'AU  the  curvea 
except  that  for  hydrogen  show  a  well-marked  minimum,  at  and 
near  the  pressure  corresponding  to  which  the  particular  gas  obeys 
Boyle's  law.  For  the  several  gases  these  positions  occur  a£  the 
pressures  as  given  in  the  (pUowing  table  : — 

Nitrogen £0  ra.   j  Carbonic  acid ,^^,,     50  m. 

Oxygen 100  m.      Marsh  gas .i.«„.  120  m. 

j^if _ 65  m.   I  Olefiant  gas „■«.    66  m. 

For  olefiant  gaa  i  is  so  great,  and  varies  so  rapidly,  that  only 
portions  of  the  curve  are  represented.  The  value  of  S  for  ita 
minimum  point  is  -  1  '3,  while  the  corresponding  value  for  oxygen 
is  -0'05.  In  these  experiments  the  temperature  of  the  gases 
varied  between  18°  and  22°  C. 

Amagat  *  has  extended  hia  researches  to  higher  temperatures  up 

'  Journal  de  Physique,  vol.  viii.,  1879. 

'  Annates  de  Chhnie  ei  de  Physique,  vol.  iix.,  1880. 

«  Annates  de  Chimie  el  de  Physique,  vol.  xiiii.,  1881. 


PNEUMATICS 


243 


to  100°  C.  The  general  characters  of  the  curves  obtained  for 
hydrogen,  nitrogen,  olefiant  gas,  and  marsh  pas  remain  the  same 
as  at  the  ordinary  temperature  ;  that  is,  with  the  exception  of 
hydrogen,  the  product  pv  decreases  to  a  minimum  and  then 
increases  indefinitely. 

The  position  of  the  minimum  changes  with  the  temperature. 
Thus  for  olefiant  gas  and  carbonic  acid  gas  (whoso  properties  were 
also  studied  at  these  higher  temperatures),  the  pressure  at  which 
the  minimum  occurs  increases  with  the  temperature,  while  in  the 
case  of  nitrogen  and  marsh  gas  this  critical  pressure  decreases  as 
the  temperature  rises.  Probably  at  some  temperature  higher  than 
100°  olefiant  gas  and  carbonic  acid  gas  would  begin  to  behave  like 
nitrogen,  and  all  would  appear  to  tend  more  and  more,  as  the  tem- 
perature rises,  to  the  condition  of  which  hydrogen  is  the  type. 
That  is,  the  deviation  from  the  Boylean  law  up  to  the  minimum 
point  would  steadily  decrease  until  finally  the  curve  would  cease  to 


020 


0'I5 


010 


♦  0-OB 


a-06 


0-10 


oati 


Their  results  were  putlisheJ  in  1801  ^  and  1802^  respec- 
tively; and  it  is  upon  the  authority  of  the  latter,  who 
accidentally  became  acquainted  with  the  fact,  that  the  law 
is  now  named  after  Charles.  The  careful  measurements 
of  Magnus,'  Regnault,*  Jolly,  and  others  have  established 
that  there  is  an  appreciable  difference  in  the  coefficients  of 
expansion  for  the  diSerent  gases.  The  difference  is  slight 
for  the  so-called  permanent  gases — air,  nitrogen,  oxygen, 
hydrogen,  and  marsh  gas ;  but  for  the  more  easily  lique- 
fiable  gases  it  is  quite  marked.  The  mean  coefficient  of 
expansion  for  air  between  0°  C.  and  100°  C.  and  at  the 
ordinary  atmospheric  pressure  is  '003665  per  degree,  and 
the  value  for  any  one  of  the  gases  just  mentioned  does  not 
certainly  differ  from  this  by  one-half  per 
cent.^  This  may  be  expressed  by  the 
formula 

r  =  KT, 

where  K  is  a  constant  and  T  the  tempera- 
ture measured  from  absolute  zero,  which 
is  274°  C.  below  the  freezing  point  of 
water  (see  Heat).  When  T  is  constant, 
we  have  by  Boyle's  law  the  product  pu 
also  constant.  Hence  we  may  combine 
the  two  laws  in  the  form 

pv='RT, 

where  R  is  a  constant.  We  thus  see 
that,  Boyle's  law  being  assumed  to  be 
true  at  all  temperatures,  Charles's  law,  if 
true  for  any  given  pressure,  is  true  for 
every  other  pressure.  Further,  if  v,  is 
kept  constant  the  rate  of  increase  of  log 
p  with  temperature  will  be  expressed  by 
the  same  number  as  the  rate  of  increase 
of  log  V  when  p  is  kept  constant.  Ex- 
periment has  fuUy  verified  this  co.nclusion 
to  as  close  an  approximation  as  Boyle's 
and  Charles's  laws  themselves  are  fulfilled. 
The  rate  of  increase  of  log  v  with  tempera- 
ture, or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  the  ratio 
of  the  rate  of  increase  of  the  volume  to 
the  original  volume,  is  given  by  the 
formula 


1  dv 
vdT' 


hare  a  marked  minimum.  For  any  one  gas,  the  higher  the  tern- 
perature  the  less  the  curvature  at  the  minimum  point ;  and  the 
comparison  of  different  gases  seems  to  indicate  that  the  curvature 
is  greater  for  the  more  easily  liqucfiablo  gas.  At  sufficiently  high 
temperatures  the  law  of  comjircasibility  for  all  gasea  approximates 
to  the  relatioe 

P(V  -  o)  -  constant 

where  P  is  the  pressure,  V  the  volume,  and  a  a  constant.  Hydrogen 
follows  this  law  very  closely  at  the  ordinary  temperature  of  the  air, 
as  the  straightnoss  of  its  representative  curve  shows  at  a  glance. 

Amagat  has  further  discussed  by  means  of  his  results 
the  law  of  dilatation  of  gases.  This  law  is  named  Charles's 
law,  after  the  discoverer  of  it.  Stated  simply,  it  is  that  at 
constant  pressure  every  gas  expands  hy  the  same  frdction  of 
t<»c(/"for  a  given  rise  from  a  given  temperature.  Charles 
did  not  publish  his  results;  and  it  was  not  till  fifteen  years 
later,  when  Dalton  and  Oay-Lussac,  working  independently, 
rediscovered  it,  that  the  law  became  geuRrally  known. 


and  this  is  the  measure  of  the  coefficient 
of  expansion  at  temperature  T.  Hence 
the  coefficient  of  expansion  diminishes  as 
the  temperature  rises,  a  conclusion  also 
in  accordance  with  experiment  so  long  an 
we  are  dealing  with  gases  which  nearly- 
obey  Boylo'a.and  Charles's  lawa 
Wo  have  seen,  however,  that  even  in  the  case  of 
hydrogen  the  departure  from  Boyle's  law  is  very  marked 
at  the  higher  pressures ;  and  therefore  we  cannot  expect  a 
closely  numerical  agreement  between  the  results  of  experi- 
ment and  the  results  of  calculation  from  the  above  formula. 
Thus,  it  is  not  surprising  that  practically  the  coefficient 
of  expansion  should  be  affected  by  the  pressure,  as 
Amagat's  experiments  clearly  show, — although  in  the 
equation  deduted  above  the  pressure  docs  not  enter.  In 
the  following  table  given  by  Amngat,  the  second  column 
contains  the  mean  coefficients  of  expansion  of  hydrogen 
between  17°  and  60"  C.  ot  the  pressures  given  in  the  firsli 

'  Memoiri  o/ithe  Philosophical  Society  qf  Manchester,  vol.  v. 
'  Annala  de  Chimie,  xllil.,  An  X. 
•  Pogg.  Ann.,  1v.,  1841.         *  Affm.  deTAead.,  »il. 
'  The  first  wlio  really  gave  accurate  values  of  thcrf)  quantities  wa* 
Rudber^t. 


244 


PNEUMATICS 


column  ;  and  the  third  column  contains  the  corresponding 
nnoan  coefficients  between  60°  and  100°  C. 


Pressure  in  Metres 
of  Mercury. 

17*-60*. 

«0°-100". 

40 
100 
180 
260 
S20 

•0033 
■0033 
•0031 
•0030 
•0028 

■0029 
•0028 
•0027 
•0025 
•0024 

The  temperature  effect  upon  the  coefficient  of  expan- 
sion, as  sho'mi  by  these  numbers,  is  approximately  that 
indicated  above,  viz.,  that  at  constant  pressure  the  co- 
efficient of  expansion  is  inversely  as  the  absolute  tempera- 
ture. A  glance  down  each  column  shows  at  once  the 
marked  effect  of  pressure.  In  this  steady  decrease  of  the 
coefficient  of  expansion  •with  increase  of  pressure,  hydrogen 
stands  alone  amongst  the  substances  discussed  by  Amagat. 
His  conclusions  are  given  in  these  words  : — 

1.  The  coefficient  of  expansion  of  gases  increases  with  the  pres- 
sure to  a  maximum,  after  which  it  decreases  indefinitely. 

2.  This  maximum  occurs  at  the  pressure  for  which  at  constant 
temperature  the  product yv  is  a  minimum,  that  is,  the  pressure  at 
which  the  gas  follows  for  the  instant  Boyle's  law. 

3.  With  increasing  temperature  this  maximum  becomes  less  and 
Jess  sensible,  finally  disappearing  with  the  minimum  characteristic 
of  the  compressibility  curve. 

Thus,  as  hydrogen  does  not  show  this  minimum 
characteristic,  its  coefficient  of  expansion  has  no  maximum 
value.  Possibly  at  lower  temperatures  hydrogen  may, 
.however,  possess  these  characteristics. 

It  thus  appears  that  the  simple  gaseous  laws  established 
by  Boyle  and  Charles  are  most  nearly  fulfilled  by  those 
gases  which  are  difficult  to  liquefy,  and  are  better  fulfilled 
by  all  the  higher  the  temperature  is.  When  a  gas  is  near 
its  point  of  liquefaction  the  density  increases  more  rapidly 
than  the  pressure,  or  in  other  words  the  volume  diminishes 
more  quickly  than  Boyle's  law  requires.  ^Vhen  the  point 
of  liquefaction  is  actually  reached,  the  slightest  increase 
of  pressure  condenses  the  whole  of  the  gas  into  a  liquid  ; 
and  in  this  state  the  alteration  of  volume  is  very  small 
even  for  a  large  increase  of  pressure. 

The  transition  from  the  gaseous  to  the  liquid  state  is 
conveniently  studied  by  the  help  of  isothermal  lines,  which 
may  be  generally  defined  as  curves  showing  the  relation 
between  two  mutually  dependent  variables  for  given  con- 
stant temperatures.  Such  variables  are  the  pressure  and 
volume  of  a  mass  of  gas.  Let  the  numbers  representing 
the  volumes  be  measured  from  a  chosen  origin  along  a 
horizontal  axis,  and  the  numbers  representing  the  pressures 
Bimilarly  along  a  vertical  axis  passing  through  the  same 
origin.  If  we  consider  a  mass  of  gas  at  a  given  tempera- 
ture, for  any  volume  that  can  be  named  there  will  be  a 
definite  pressure  corresponding,  and  vice  verm.  Hence  the 
point  whose  coordinates  are  the  corresponding  volume 
and  pressure  is  completely  determined  if  either  coordinate 
is  given.  The  temperature  always  being  kept  constant, 
let  now  the  volume  change  continuously.  The  pressure 
will  also  alter  according  to  a  definite  law ;  and  the  point 
Whose  coordinates  are  at  any  instant  the  corresponding 
volume  aad  pressure  will  trac«  out  a  curve.  This  curve  is 
^n  isothermal  curve,  or  simply  an  isotherm.  If  Boyle's  law 
Were  fulfilled,  the  equation  to  the  isotherm  for  any  given 
temperature  would  be  of  the  form 

.  ^  =  constant. 
The   isotherm  ■would  be  a  rectangular  hyperbola,  whose 
asymptotes   are    the    coordinate  axes.     For   any  gas  not 
near  its  point  of  liquefaction  the  isotherm  will  not  deviate 
greatly  from  the  hyperbolic  form. 

Let  now  the  pressure  be  kept  constant,  and  the  gas  raised 


somewhat  in  temperature.  The  volume  of  course  increases^ 
and  the  corresponding  point  on  the  diagram  moves  off  the 
original  isotherm.  Through  this  point  in  its  new  position 
we  can  draw  a  second  isotherm  corresponding  to  the  new 
temperature.  And  thus  the  whole  field  may  be  mapped 
out  by  a  series  of  isotherms,  each  one  of  which  corresponds 
to  a  definite  temperature.  The  higher  the  temperature 
the  farther  does  the  isotherm  lie  from  the  origin.  Such  a 
mapped  out  diagram  or  chart  shows  at  a  glance  the  rela- 
tions between  the  volume,  pressure,  and  temperature  of  a 
given  mass  of  gas,  so  that  if  any  two  of  these  are  given 
the  third  can  be  found  at  once. 

So  long  as  the  substance  is  in  the  gaseous  form,  the 
isotherm  remains  approximately  hyperbolic ;  but  at  the 
pressure  at  which  liquefaction  takes  place  a  marked  change 
occurs  in  the  form  of  the  curve.  For  greater  definiteness 
consider  the  case  of  a  gramme  of  steam  at  100°  C.  and  at 
a  pressure  somewhat  below  one  atmosphere.  As  the  pres- 
sure is  increased,  the  volume  diminishes  appreciably  faster 
than  Boyle's  law  requires,  but  still  in  such  a  way  as  to 
give  an  approximately  hyperbolic  form  to  the  isotherm. 
When  Jhe  pressure  reaches  one  atmosphere,  however,  any 
further  increase  is  accompanied  by  the  liquefaction  of  th3 
whole ;  that  is,  the  volume  suddenly  diminishes  from 
1647^5  cubic  centimetres  to  1  cubic  centimetre.  Between 
these  extremes  of  volume,  the  isotherm  is  a  straight  line 
parallel  to  the  horizontal  axis.  The  pressure  remains 
constant  until  the  whole  of  the  gas  is  liquefied.  In  other 
words,  the  pressure  of  a  gas  in  presence  of  its  liquid  does  not 
alter  provided  the  temperature  is  kept  constant.  This  is  a 
partial  statement  of  the  more  general  law  that  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  liquid  surface  alone  determines  the  maximum 
pressure  which  its  vapour  or  gas  in  contact  therewith  can 
exert  (see  Heat).  After  the  whole  has  been  liquefied,  any 
increase  of  pressure  is  accompanied  .by  a  very  minute 
diminution  of  volume.  Hence  the  isotherm  rises  abruptly 
from  the  point  whose  coordinates  are  1  cubic  centimetre 
and  1  atniosphere,  becoming  nearly  but  not  quite  vertical. 
Thus,  the  isotherm  for  water-substance  at  100°  consists  of 
three  parts  : — an  approximately  hyperbolic  portion  for 
pressures  less  than  one  atmosphere,  the  substance  being 
then  wholly  gaseous ;  a  horizontal  portion,  corresponding 
to  the  state  in  which  the  substance  is  partly  liquid  partly 
gaseous  ;  and  a  nearly  vertical  portion  for  pressures  higher 
than  one  atmosphere,  the  substance  being  then  wholly 
liquid.  If  we  trace  out  the  isotherm  for  some  higher 
temperature,  say  150°  C,  we  obtain  the  same  general 
characteristics.  The  straight  line  portion,  however,  is  not 
so  long,  for  two  reasons  : — the  steam  must  be  reduced  to  a 
smaller  volume  before  liquefaction  begins  ;  and  the  volume 
of  the  liquid  when  condensed  is  greater.  The  pressure 
corresponding  to  the  transition  state  is  in  this  case  4'7 
atmospheres,  and  the  range  of  volumes  is  from  384^4  cubic 
centimetres  in  the  gaseous  state  to  1'038  cubic  centimetres 
in  the  liquid  state.  It  thus  appears  that  the  positions  of 
the  two  points  of  .abrupt  change  on  an  isotherm  draw 
nearer  the  higher  the  temperature,  coming  together  finally 
when  the  temperature  has  reached  a  certain  critical  value. 
In  other  words,  at  and  above  a  certain  temperature  a 
liquid  and  its  vapour  cannot  co-exist.  This  temperature 
for  water-substance  is  very  high,  somewhere  .about  the 
point  of  fusion  of  zinc,  and  is  therefore  difficult  to  measure. 
Dr  Andrews,  however,  in  his  classical  researches  on  car- 
bonic acid  gaSji  to  which  we  owe  most  of  what  is  said 
above,  has  discussed  the  whole  subject  in  a  very  complete 
manner.  This  substance,  at  a  temperature  of  13°^1  C, 
begins  to  liquefy  at  a  pressure  of  47  atmospheres.  During 
the   process  of  liqrefaction    there   is   a  perfectly   vjsiUo 

'  r/iil.  Trans.,  1S69. 


PNEUMATICS 


245 


liquid  surface  separating  the  two  coexisting  states  of  the 
substance ;  and  the  isotherm  has  a  corresponding  straight 
line  portion.  At  a  temperature  of  21°'5  C.  liquefaction 
occurs  at  a  pressure  of  60  atmospheres.  The  horizontal 
portion  of  the  isotherm,  which  marks  the  co-existence  of 
the  gaseous  and  liquid  states,  is  considerably  shorter  than 
at  the  former  temperature.  The  isotherm  for  Sl'^l  C, 
however,  has  no  such  rectilinear  characteristic  ;  and  at  this 
and  higher  temperatures  the  substance  is  never  during  the 
whole  compression  in  two  distinct  conditions  at  once.  It 
is  impossible  to  say  when  the  dense  gaseous  condition 
passes  into  the  light  liquid  condition.  The  two  states  are 
absolutely  continuous.  The  critical  temperature— that  is, 
the  temperature  below  which  there  is  a  distinct  separation 
between  the  liquid  and  the  gas — is  fixed  by  Dr  Andrews 
at  30°'92  C.  for  carbonic  acid  gas.  Above  this  tempera- 
ture it  is  impossible  to  obtain  a  free  liquid  surface  in  a 
closed  vessel.  This  conclusion  had  already  been  arrived 
at  by  Faraday  in  1826,  when  he  considered  himself  entitled 
to  state  that  above  a  certain  temperature  no  "amount  of 
pressure  will  produce  the  phenomenon  known  as  condensa- 
tion. 

Andrews's  results  also  give  the  true  explanation  of  the 
observations  made  by  Cagniard-Latour '  in  1822  upon 
the  effect  of  high  temperature  on  liquids  enclosed  in  glass 
tubes  which  they  nearly  filled.  He  found  that  at  a  certain 
temperature  the  free  liquid  surface  disappeared,  and  the 
tube  became  filled  with  a  substance  of  perfectly  uniform 
appearance  throughout.  He  concluded  that  the  whole 
had  become  gaseous.  In  reality  he  had'  reached  the 
critical  temperature  at  which  the  liquid  and  gaseous  con- 
ditions pass  continuously  the  one'  into  the  other.  The 
following  are  Cagniard-Latour's  estimated  values  for  the 
temperature  and  pressure  of  various  substances  at  the 
critical  point 


1    Temperature. 

PrcMore.             j 

F.ther 

175°  C. 
24  3°  „ 
268°  „ 

■38  atmospheres. 
119 
71 

Bisulphide  of  carbon 

Avenarius^  and  Drion'have  studied  the  critical  tem- 
peratures of  other  substances,  such  as  sulphuric  acid,  ace- 
ton,  and  carbon  tetrachloride.  The  substances,  however, 
which  can  be  so  studied  are  comparatively  few,  since  the 
greater  number  of  those  which  are  liquid  under  ordinary 
conditions  have  their  critical  temperatures  very  high,  while 
the  majority  of  those  which  are  gaseous  have  theirs  very 
low. 
Hqne-  The  necessity  for  a  very  low  temperature  long  prevented 
tiui  of  the  obtaining  in  a  liquid  form  of  the  standard  gases — 
**  hydrogen,  oxygen,  nitrogen,  &c. — which  .were  accordingly 
distinguished  by  the  name  permanent  gates.  Faraday  * 
proved  that  these  could  not  be  liquefied  at  a  temperature 
of  -110°  C,  even  when  subjected  to  a  pressure  of  27 
atmospheres.  Natterer'  likewise  failed  to  reduce  these 
gases  to  the  liquid  state,  even  at  a  pressure  of  3000  atmo- 
spheres. His  means  for  reducing  the  temperature  were  not 
satisfactory.  In  1877  Cailletet  and  Pictet,  working  inde- 
pendently, first  successfully  eflfected  their  approximate 
liquefaction.  The  former  compressed  each  of  the  gases 
oxygon,  nitrogen,  and  carbonic  oxide  to  300  atmospheres 
in  a  glass  tube,  which  was  cooled  to  -  29°  C."  When  the 
gas  was  allowed  to  escape,- it  did  so  in  the  form  of  a  cloud, 

'  Annates  de  Chtmie,  2d  ser. ,  xxi,,  xxii. 

'  Poggendorff's  Annalen,  cli.,  1874. 

'  Ann.  de  Chimie  et  de  Physique,  3<1  Beries,  IvI. 

*  Phil.  Tram.,  1846.  ^  '      " 

'   Wienische  Beriehle,  1850,  1851,  1854  ;  «nd  Pogg.  Ann.,  xcir., 
)f5.V 

•  A"«  •<'«  Clumie  et  de  Pkyaijue,  1878  ;  Cmptrj  Rendus,  1882. 


condensing  for  the  moment  to  the  liquid  state  under  the 
influence  of  the  extreme  cold  produced  by  the  rapid 
expansion  of  the  gas.  Pictet  in  a  similar  way  obtained 
an  issuing  stream  of  liquid  oxygen.  Von  Wroblewski  and 
Ulzewski^  have  more  recently  obtained  oxygen,  nitrogen, 
and  carbonic  oxide  in  a  more  evident  liquid  state.  They 
used  CaiUetet's  form  of  apparatus,  and  cooled  the  gas  by 
means  of  the  evaporation  of  liquid  ethylene.  Under  this 
extreme  cold  they  observed  these  substances  forming  a 
weU-defined  liquid  in  the  bottom  of  the  tube.  The  foUow- 
ing  table  gives  the  results  of  five  different  observations  at 
slightly  different  temperatures. 


Temperature,  C... 
Pressure,  in  atmos. 


«129°a 
27  02 


-131°-6 
25-86 


-133° -4 
24-4 


-134°-8 
23-18 


-135°-8] 
22-2 


At  slightly  higher  temperatures,  the  pressure  necessary 
for  the  liquefaction  increased  very  rapidly.  Nitrogen  and 
carbonic  oxide  were  not  so  easUy  reduced,  remaining  still 
gaseous  at  -  136°  C,  and  under  a  pressure  of  150  atmo- 
spheres. By  a  sudden  diminution  of  the  pressure  to  50 
atmospheres  there  was  obtained  under  the  influenro  of  the 
reduced  temperature  a  rapidly  evaporating  liquid.  The 
critical  point  of  oxygen  has  been  experimentaUy  fixed  by 
Von  Wroblewski  8  at  -  113°  C.  and.  50  atmospheres  pres- 
sure. With  the  data  given  by  Amagat's  researches, 
Sarrau  ^  has  calculated  from  a  formula  of  Clausius's  the 
following  values  of  the  critical  temperature  and  pressure 
for  oxygen,  nitrogen,  hydrogen. 


Critical  Temperature. 


Ciltlcul  PreMnre. 


Oxygen.... 

Nitrogen  .. 
Hydrogen. 


-105° -4  C. 

■123°-8 

-174°-2 


48 '7  atmospberea. 
421 


It  will  be  observed  that  Von  Wroblewski's  observed 
values  for  oxygen  are  in  remarkably  close  agreement  with 
the  calculated  values  given  here.  Apparently  oxygen  is 
just  at  the  limit  fixed  by  Faraday. 

The  behaviour  of  a  gas  under  varying  pressure  is  a  Jfano 
phenomenon  of  great  practical  importance,  and  gives  a  valu-  ™«'« 
able  method  for  measuring  pressures  (see  Manometer). 

A  modification  of  the  ordinary  mercury  manometer  is 
used  for  measuring  volumes,  and  is  especially  valuable  in 
estimating  the  densities  of  substances  which  cannot  be  put 
into  water,  such  for  example  as  liquids  or  powders.  The 
closed  end  of  the  manometer  tube,  which  by  means  of  a 
stop-cock  may  be  opened  to  the  air  at  jeill,  -is  fitted  to  a 
flask  with  which  it  may  be  put  into  connexion  when 
required.  Two  fiducial  marks  are  tlien  made  upon  it — 
one  at  the  position  where  the  mercury  surfaces  in  the  two 
limbs  of  the  tube  are  co-level,  and  the  other  somewhat 
higher  at  a  convenient  spot.  Between  the  two  marks  the 
tube  expands  into  a  bulb,  thereby  increasing  the  interven- 
ing volume  and  minimizing  the  effect  of  any  slight  error 
in  bringing  the  mercury  surface  to  the  higher  mark.  Let 
the  volume  of  the  flask  and  tube  down  to  the  higher  mark 
be  V,  and  the  volume  of  the  rest  of  the  tube  down  to  the 
lower  mark  V.  At  first  the  volume  of  air  in  the  flask  and 
tube  is  V  +  i',  at  the  atmospheric  pressure  P.  Now  pour 
mercury  into  the  open  end  till  the  liquid  surface  in  the 
closed  end  reaches  the  higher  mark.  The  air  has  been 
compressed  to  volume  v  ;  and  the  corrcsi)onding  pressure, 
as  measured  by  the  balanced  mercury  column,  ia  p  +  f. 
Hence 

(p  +  r)i;-r(V  +  »). 

Let  now  a  volume  x  be  placed  in  the  flask,  and  let  the 


'  ComyUs  Pendut,   1882-83;    Wiedemann't  Annaltn,  1883;  ui6 
A nnaUt  de  Chimie  et  d*  Phyeiqut^   If84. 
'  Comptet  Rendu;  188 ».  »  Comptts  Reudut.  1882. 


24Cy 


r  N  E  U  M  A  T  I  C  b 


same  succession  of  operations  be  made.  Then,  if  p'  be  the 
increase  of  pressure  necessary  to  bring  the  mercury  surface 
from  the  lower  to  the  higher  fiducial  mark,  we  have 

{p'  +  P){v-x)  =  P{V  +  v-x). 
As   V  can  be  readily  determined  by  gauging   the  tube, 
and  as  P,  p,  p'  are  all  known,  the  quantities  v  and  x  can 
be  at  once  found  from  these  equations. 

In  many  experiments  on  the  properties  of  gases  it  is 
necessary  to  have  an  efficient  and  rapid  means  for  altering 
the  density.  Instruments  for  this  purpose  are  called  air- 
pumps,  and  their  function  may  be  either  to  rarefy  or  con- 
dense the  air — usually  the  former. 

Otto  Von  Guericke  of  Magdeburg  constructed  the  first 
air-pump  about  the  year  1652.  It  was  simply  a  spherical 
glass  vessel  opening  below  by  means  of  a  stop-cock  and 
narrow  nozzle  into  the  cylinder  of  an  "  exhausting  syringe," 
■which  inclined  upwards  from  the  extremity  of  the  nozzle. 
The  cylinder,  in  which  a  well-fitting  piston  worked,  was 
provided  at  its  lower  end  with  two  valves.  One  of  these 
opened  from  the  nozzle  into  the  cylinder,  the  other  from 
the  cylinder  into  the  outside  air.  During  the  down-stroke 
of  the  piston  the  former  was  pressed  home,  so  that  no  air 
entered  the  nozzle  and  vessel,  while  the  latter  was  forced 
open  by  the  air  which  so  escaped  from  the  cylinder. 
During  the  return-stroke  the  latter  was  kept  closed  in 
virtue  of  the  partial  vacuum  formed  within  the  cylinder, 
while  at  the  same  time  the  former  was  forced  open  by  the 
pressure  of  the  denser  air  in  the  vessel  and  nozzle.  Thus, 
at  every  complete  stroke  of  the  piston,  the  air  in  the  vessel 
or  receiver  was  diminished  by  that  fraction  of  itself  which 
is  expressed  by  the  ratio  of  the  volume  of  the  available 
cylindrical  space  above  the  outward  opening  valve  to  the 
whole  volume  of  receiver,  nozzle,  and  cylinder. 

Boyle,  on  hearing  of  Von  Guericke's  success  in  applying 
the  expansive  properties  of  air  as  a  means  to  its  rarefacficn, 
constructed  a  machine  essentially  the  same  as  Von 
Guericke's,  of  which  no  description  had  then  been  pub- 
lished. Boyle,  however,  made  the  exhausting  cylinder  a 
continuation  of  the  nozzle,  which  was  thus  considerably 
reduced  in  size,  and  worked  the  piston  by  means  of  a 
■wheel  and  racket  work.  He  also  employed  a  transparent 
glass  receiver  with  removable  cover,  so  that  the  operator 
could  observe  what  was  going  on  inside,  and  more  easily 
alter  the  contents.  Other  modifications  and  improvements 
followed  rapidly ;  and  in  the  carrying  out  of  these  Boyle 
was  greatly  aided  by  Hooke,  who  conceived  the  happy 
idea  of  using  two  syringes  opening  into  the  same  duct 
from  the  receiver.  This  improvement  has  recently  been 
credited  to  Papin.i  In  this  form  the  pistons  are  worked 
by  the  same  toothed  wheel,  and  are  so  adjusted  that  the 
one  rises  as  the  other  falls.  This  arrangement  not  only 
doubles  the  rate  of  exhaustion  per  stroke,  but  vastly 
increases  the  ease  of  working.  In  the  single-barrelled 
form  the  piston  is  drawn  back  against  a  pressure  of  air 
which  is  greater  the  more  complete  the  exhaustion  is 
■within  ;  but  in  the  double-barrelled  form  the  downward 
pressures  upon  the  two  pistons  to  a  certain  extent 
counteract  each  other,  producing  opposite  rotational  effects 
on  the  toothed  wheel  and  driving  handle.  Boyle  also 
early  adopted  the  flat  plate,  on  which  could  be  set  receivers 
of  various  shapes  and  sizes.  The  junction  of  the  plate  and 
receiver  he  made  tolerably  air-tight  by  covering  the  plate 
with  wet  leather  and  having  the  receiver  rim  ground  flat. 
According  to  Gerland,  the  invention  of  the  plate  is  due  to 
Huygens,  who  constructed  the  first  air-pump  so  provided 
in  1661,  shortly  after  a  visit  to  London,  where  his  interest 
in  the  subject  was  awakened  by  Boyle.  To  Huygens,  prob- 
fcbly  in  conjunction  with  Papin,  is  also  due  the  applica- 

*  See  Gerland,  in  Wiedemann's  AnnaUn,  1877,  1883. 


tion  of  the  mercury  manometer  to  measure  the  pressure  in 
the  receiver — an  indispensable  equipment  in  all  serviceable 
air-pumps.  The  form  of  the  piston  plugs  and  valves 
received  the  special  attention  of  Papin,  who  by  his  refined 
and  detailed  improvements  did  much  to  increase  the 
efficiency  of  the  apparatus. 

The  important  characteristics  of  an  efficient  air-pump  are 
as  follows.  The  piston  must  work  smoothly  and  easily. 
The  valves  must  act  precisely,  and  be  when  closed  absolutely 
air-tight.  The  plate  on  which  the  receivers  rest  must  be 
smooth  and  plane,  so  that  the  ground  edges  of  the  receivers 
may  be  in  close  contact  all  round.  This  perfect  fitting  is 
beyond  the  powers  of  the  best  workmanship,  so  that  it  is 
necessary  to  press  between  the  receiver  and  plate  a  thin 
layer  of  lard,  which  renders  the  junction  air-tight.  Some- 
where in  the  duct  leading  from  the  receiver  to  the  piston 
cylinders,  a  stop-cock  must  be  fixed,  so  that  it  may  be 
possible  to  shut  off  the  receiver  completely  from  these. 
Then  a  second  stop-cock  is  required  as  a  ready  means  for 
admitting  air  to  the  receiver,  whenever  the  need  should 
arise.  A  combination  three-way  stop-cock  is  a  very  usual 
form.  And,  finally,  the  apparatus  should  be  provided  with 
a  pressure  gauge — a  mercury  manometer  communicating 
by  means  of  a  duct  with  the  main  duot  and  receiver. 

The  double-barrelled  form  of  reciprocating  air-pump,  as 
finally  employed  by  Boyle,  is  still  much  in  use  ;  but  it  is 
gradually  being  superseded  by  Bianchi's,  which  has  but 
one  cylinder  and  piston.     The  piston  is,  however,  double- 
acting,  as  the  cylinder  communicates  both  above  and  below 
by  suitable  valves  with  the  main  duct  which  leads  to  the 
receiver.     Hence,  during  both  the  up  and  down  strokes  of 
the  piston,  exhaustion  is  being  effected,  the  gas  which  is 
in  the  diminishing  chamber  being  driven  out  through  a 
suitable  valve  to  the  open  air.     The  chief  merit  of  Bianchi's 
machine,  however,  as  compared  with  the  older  form,  lies  in 
the  mechanism  by  which  the  piston  is  driven.     The  end 
of  the  piston  rod  is  attached  by  a  crank  to  a  rotating 
horizontal  axle,  which  is  in  gearing  with  the  axle  of  a  fly- 
wheel.    The  piston  cylinder  is  capable  of  a  reciprocating 
oscillatory  motion  about  its  lower  end,  which  pivots  on  a 
horizontal  axis.     Thus,  as  the   crank  rotates,  the.  piston 
rises  and  falls  in  the  cylinder,  and  oscillates  along  with  it 
from    side    to    side.     The  driving  power  is  applied  to  a 
handle  fixed  to  the  fly-wheel.     This  substitution  of  a  coa- 
tinuous  rotatory  motion  for  a  reciprocating  motion  greatly 
facilitates  rapid  exhaustion. 
_  At  every  complete  stroke  of  the  piston  the  pressure  of  Comple 
air  in  the  receiver  is  reduced  by  a  definite  fraction  of  itself,  exliaus- 
which  depends  upon  the  relative  volumes  of  the  receiver  '•'''" .'"' 
and  piston  cylinder.     Hence  the  absolute  change  of  pres  '*°''    ' 
sure  per  stroke  is  smaller  as  the  piessure  is  smaller ;  and 
the  rate  of  exhaustion  at  very  low  pressures  becomes  prac- 
tically inappreciable.     There  is,  in  fact,  a  practical  limit 
to  exhaustion,  the  particular  value  of  which  depends  upon 
the  special  characteristics  of   the  instrument.     The  best 
air-pumps  of  the  type  described  above  cannot  reduce  the 
pressure   to   less   than  what  would   balance   one  or  two 
millimetres   of   mercury — that  is,  to  what  is  technically 
called  a  pressure  of  one  or  two  millimetres.     To  obtain  a 
lower  pressure  or   a  higher   vacuum,  as   it    is  commonly 
termed,  requires  the  use  of  a  different  principle. 

In  a  well-constructed  barometer  the  region  above  the 
mercury  contains  no  air.  It  is  not  an  absolute  vacuum, 
but  is  filled  ■with  vapour  of  mercury  at  a  very  low  pressure 
—according  to  Kegnault,  -0372  mm.  at  20°  C,  and  -02 
mm.  at  0°  C.  The  way  in  which  the  Torricellian  vacuum 
has  been  applied  to  give  a  practical  air-pump  has  been 
described  in  Meecueial  Air-Pdmp.  So  long  as  mercury 
vapour  is  permitted  to  pass  freely  through  the  exhausting 
tubes,  it  is  impossible  to  obtain  by  the  mercurial  air-pump 


k 


P  N  E  U  BI  A  T  I  C  S 


247 


pressures  lower  than  the  fortieth  of  a  millimetre.  If, 
however,  there  is  placed  somewhere  in  the  duct  leading 
from  the  mercury  pump  to  the  receiver  a  non-volatile  sub- 
stance which  absorbs  mercury  vapour,  the  mercury  vapour 
will  be  arrested.  With  similar  precautions  for  the  absorp- 
tion of  water  vapour  or  other  vapour  which  may  be  present, 
it  is  possible  to  obtain  very  low  pressures  indeed.  Thus 
Crookes '  in  his  radiometer  experiments  obtained  pressures 
as  low  as  '00015  mm.  or  the  '2  millionth  of  an  atmosphere. 
The  form  of  pump  used  was  of  Geissler's  type.  The 
water  vapour  was  absorbed  by  phosphoric  anhydride. 
Sulphur  was  used  to  absorb  the  mercury  vapour ;  and  on 
the  further  side  metallic  copper  was  placed  to  absorb  any 
sulphur  vapour  which  might  tend  to  pass. 

The  best  test  of  a  good  vacuum  is  tlie  electrical  test.  Disruptive 
discharge  through  a  long  tube  filled  with  gas  is  possible  only  when 
the  gas  is  very  rare,  but  there  is  a  point  in  the  rarefaction  of  a  gas 
at  which  the  discharge  passes  most  easily.  In  otlier  words,  the 
dielectric  strength  of  a  gas  reaches  a  njinimum  as  its  pressure  is 
diminished,  and  it  is  jjossible  to  obtain  such  a  high  vacuum  that 
electric  di'scharge  will  not  take  place  through  any  considerable 
length  of  the  exhausted  .space  (see  Elf.ctkicitt).  In  this  con- 
nexion we  may  notice  a  simple  but  iustructive  experiment  of 
Dewar's.  He  caiefully  exhausted  a  vacuum  tube,  in  which  he  had 
))reviously  inserted  a  piece  of  carbon.  In  the  last  stages  of  the 
exhaustion  the  carbon  was  strongly  heated  so  as  to  drive  off  most 
of  the  gas  which  is  always  condensed  on  its  surface.  After  the 
completion  of  the  exhaustion,  the  tube  was  sealed  up  and  the 
carbon  allowed  to  cool.  As  it  cooled,  it  condensed  over  its  surface 
the  greater  portion  of  the  small  quantity  of  gas  left  in  the  vacuum 
tube.  The  vacuum  was  thus  vastly  improved,  so  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  pass  an  electric  spark  between  two  platinum  electrodes 
which  had  been  previously  fused  into  the  glass.  A  gentle  heat 
api>lied  to  the  carbon,  liowever,  was  sufficient  to  drive  off  from  its 
surface  enough  of  the  occluded  gas  to  raise  the  pressure  to  the 
point  necessary  for  the  piassage  of  the  electricity.  As  the  carbon 
cooled  again,  the  high  vacuum  was  restored  and  the  discharge 
ceased. 
lens-  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  do  mora  than  mention  the  other 
"r-  class  of  air-pumps.  Let  the  essential  valves  in  an  exhaust- 
ing pump  have  their  actions  reversed,  and  the  apparatus 
will  become  a  condensing  pump.  The  condensing  syringe 
is  the  usual  form  of  such  a  pump  ;  but,  compared  to  the 
exhausting  instrument,  it  has  very  limited  applications. 
For  the  mere  obtaining  of  high  pressures  hydraulic  means 
are  preferable,  being  at  once  more  manageable  and  less 
,dangerous.  Besides,  even  moderately  slow  compression 
of  a  gas  is  acgompanied  by  considerable  rise  of  tempera- 
ture, just  as  rarefaction  of  a  gas  is  accompanied  by 
|ftppreciable  lowering  of  temperature.  In  the  former  case 
work  is  done  in  compressing  the  gas  agtfitist  its  own  pres- 
Hure,  and  this  energy  appears  as  heat  which  raises  the 
temperature  of  the  gas.  In  the  latter  .case  the  gas  in 
expanding  draws  upon  its  own  energy  and  so  cools. 

The  thermal  properties  of  gases  are  treated  as  a  branch 
of  mathematical  physics  under  Heat  and  Tuermo^ 
DYNAMICS,  where  also  will  be  found  discu.ssed  .such  experi- 
mental details  a.s  bear  intimately  upon  the  theory.  The 
article  Atom  contains  a  concise  statement  of  the  modern 
kinetic  theory  of  gases ;  and  in  Constitution  of  Bodies 
and  Diffusion  certain  more  special  aspects  of  the  same 
theory  are  regarded.  For  the  mathematical  theory  see 
Molecule.  The  principles  embodied  in  these  articles  have 
been  assumed  throughout  the  present  article. 

The  cooling  of  a  gas  by  its  own  expansion  may  be 
observed  in  one  of  its  effects  during  exhaustion  in. an 
ordinary  receiver.  Frequently  a  cloud  of  minute  drops  of 
water — a  veritable  fog— forms  in  the  exhausted  air.  The 
reason  simply  is  that  the  air  has  become  cooled  below  its 
dew-point,  or  the  temperature  corresponding  to  the  prcs- 
eure  of  water  vapour  present.  If  the  receiver  is  first  filled 
with  dry  air  and  then  exhausted,  no  cloud  forms.  Also  if 
Ure  air  is  carefully  filtered  through  cotton  wool,  no  cloud 

*  See  his  B.ikcrian  Lecture,  I'hil.  Trans.,  1878,  cUix.  300. 


pa 


rnial 
>er- 


forms,  even  though  the  air  be  thoroughly  saturated  with 
water  vapour.  This  latter  fact  was  established  by  Mr 
Aitken  in  his  beautiful  series  of  experiments  on  dust,  fogs, 
and  clouds.2  It  thus  appears  that  the  formation  of  fog 
and  cloud  depends  -not  only  upon  the  humidity  of  the  air 
but  also  upon  -the  amount  of  dust  in  the  air.  The  littla 
particles  of  dust  are  necessary  as  nuclei  upon  which  the 
vapour  can  begin  to  condense.  The  more  numerous  tha 
dust  particles  the  finer  are  the  drops  which  form  on  them. 
As  these  coalesce  into  larger  dropis  and  fall,  they  bring 
down  the  dust  nuclei  with  them  ;  and  hence  the  tendency 
of  rain  is  to  clear  the  atmo-sphere,  and  make  conditions  less 
favourable  for  the  formation  of  more  cloud  and  rain.  Thus 
rain,  fog,  and  dew  all  require  for  their  formation  a  free 
solid  surface,  colder  than  the  temperature  of  saturation, 
on  which  to  condense.  In  a  dustless  atmosphere  no  cloud 
can  ever  form. 

It  has  been  already  pointed  out  that  when  a  fluid  is  in  motion  it  nii<t 
cnn  no  longer  be  regarded  as  even  approximately  possessing  the  pro-  (riQtiOJk 
pcrtiee  of  the  ideal  perfect  fluid.  The  postulate  that  the  stress  lis 
tween  contiguous  portions  is  perpendicular  to  the  common  interfact 
cannot  be  for  a  moment  admitted.  A  few  examples  will  make  this 
clear.  Thus,  if  a  vessel  filled  with  a  liquid  be  set  in  rotation,  tha 
liquid  will  soon  be  found  to  bo  rotating  with  the  vessel ;  and  if  the 
niutioD  of  the  vessel  be  stopped,  the  motion  of  the  liquid  inside 
will  gradually  subside.  These  phenomena  show  the  existence  of  a 
stress  tangential  to  the  fluid  elements,  whereby  the  relative  motion 
of  the  difl'erent  parts  of  the  system  is  gradually  destroyed,  until  the 
vessel  and  its  contents  behave  as  one  solid  body.  Again,  a  fluid 
stream  flowing  along  a  tube  or  canal  moves  fastest  in  the  middle, 
slowest  at  the  bounding  walls,  and  with  all  possible  intermediate 
speeds  at  intermediate  places.  Phis  retardation,  due  in  the  first 
instance  to  the  action  of  the  walls  upon  the  fluid  in  direct  contact 
therewith,  and  then  to  the  friction  betwoen  the  successive 
contiguous  sheets  of  fluid,  plainly  implies  the  existence  of 
tangential  stress.  The  action  of  the  wind  in  causing  waves  on  the 
smooth  surface  of  a  sheet  of  water  is  a  further  illustration. 

In  the  discussion  of  fluid  motion,  however,  it  is  custoranry  to 
consider  first  the  properties  of  the  ideal  fluid  in  this  respect. 
Under  Hydromechanics,  and  especially  under  AioM,  will  be  found 
the  mathematical  theory  treated  la  full  so  far  08  the  motion  of  a 
non-viscous  fluid  is  concerned. 

The  possibility  of  setting  up  vortox-motion  in  a  fluid  depends  General 
upon  its  imperfection,  upon  the  property  of  viscosity  or  fluid  effecta  of 
friction  which  is  possessea  by  all  known  fluids.  Some  of  the  more  viscoaitfi 
obvious  efl'ects  ol  this  jiroperty  have  been  already  noticed.  Its 
efl"ects  indeed  are  conspicuous  wherever  there  is  relative  motion  of 
the  contiguous  parts  of  a  fluid.  A  current  of  air  moving  through 
a  mass  of  air  at  rest  soon  loses  its  momentum ;  a  solid  body 
moving  through  still  air  likewise  has  its  motion  retarded.  The 
loss  of  energy  which  a  meteoric  stone  so  suffers  as  it  speeds 
through  tlie  atmosphere  appears  in  the  form  of  heat,  which  is  suffi- 
cient to  make  the  stone  glow  to  incandescence  or  to  the  temperature 
of  rapid  combustion.  The  waves  of  rarefaction  and  condensation, 
which  constitute  sound  physicaUy,  gradually  decay  in  virtue  of 
viscosity.  It  appears  thiit  the  rate  of  this  decay  is  quickest  for 
the  shortest  waves  ;  so  that  a  sound  after  ti-avelling  through  a 
long  distance  may  lose  its  shriller  constituents  and  so  be  modified 
and  mellowed.  It  is  viscosity  also  which  supports  the  minute 
dust  particles  and  cloud-forming  drops  of  water  ii)  our  atmo- 
sphere. These  are  bulk  for  bulk  heavier  than  the  atmosphero,  ajid 
in  tranquil  air  are  slowly  sinking.  Tlie  slowness  of  their  down- 
ward motion  is  directly  due  to  the  effect  of  fluid-friction. 

The  term  fluid-friction  is  applied  because  of  the  similarity  oC 
its  efl'ects  to  the  effects  of  friction  between  solid  masses.  Otlior- 
wiso  there  need  bo  no  further  resemblance.  The  true  nat\iro  of 
friction  betwoen  solid  surfaces  is  not  known  ;  ])Ossibly,  as  6Ugge.^ted 
by  Sir  \V.  Thomson,  it  mtiy  bo  in  great  measure  electrical.  In  the 
case  of  gases,  however,  the  origin  of  friction  is  more  apiwrent.  Its 
laws  can  be  deduced  from  the  kinetic  theory,  and  dcjiond  directly 
upon  the  principle  of  diffusion.  According  to  the  kinetic  theory 
of  gases,  the  molecules  of  a  gas  are  in  constant  motion  amongst 
themselves.  Compared  to  their  own  dinun.'iions,  ihoy  are  by  no 
means  closely  packed,  so  that  any  individual  molmnle  travels  a 
comparatively  largo  space  between  its  encounters  with  other 
molecules.  Any  two  contiguous  regions  are  continually  inter- 
changing molecules.  This  diffusion  of  a  giis  into  itself  wo  have  no 
means  of  measuring  oxperinuMitally,  as  we  niniiot  dejl  with  the 
individual  molecules.  Suppose,  however,  that  wo  have  two  con- 
tiguous layers  of  a  gas  floniiig  in  parallel  directions  with  diMercnt 
speeds.     The  general  drirt  of  inolecuh-s  in  the  one  layer  is  fastrr 

•  Train.  Roij.  Soc.  Sciiti.,  1980-81. 


248 


PNEUMATICS 


than  in  the  other.  But  this  dilferenee  will  not  prevent  the 
individual  molecules  diffusing  across  the  interface  between  the 
layers.  Diffusion  will  go  on  freely.  The  result  wiU  be  that  the 
slower  moving  layer  will  on  the  whole  gain  momentum  in  the 
direction  of  its  motion  and  the  faster  moving  layer  lose  momentum. 
Thus,  diffusion  tends  to  the  equalization  of  momentum  between 
two  contiguous  regions,  and  the  rate  at  which  this  takes  place 
across  unit  area  is  the  measure  of  the  viscosity.     Maxwell  has 

S roved'  that  the  viscosity  so  measured  is  independent  of  the 
ensity  of  the  gas  when  the  temperature  is  constant ;  whereas  the 
relation  between  the  viscosity  and  temperature  depends  upon  the 
particular  mode  of  action  between  the  molecules  when  they  approach 
each  other. 

The  above  definition  of  viscosity  is  not  one  which  can  be  used  in 
experimental  determinations,  since  we  cannot  take  account  of  the 
individual  molecules  of  a  gas.  The  coefficient  of  viscosity  must 
be  defined  in  terms  of  dii'ectly  measurable  quantities. 
■  Maxwell  has  defined  viscosity  in  these  words  ; — the  viscosity  of 
a  substance  is  measured  by  the  tangential  force  on  unit  of  area  of 
either  of  two  horizontal  planes  at  the  unit  of  distance  apart,  one  of 
which  is  fixed,  while  the  other  moves  with  unit  of  velocity,  the 
ppace  between,  being  filled  with  the  viscous  substance.  This  is 
the  dynamical  definition.  When  the  effects  of  viscosity  on  the 
internal  motions  of  a  fluid  itself  are  being  considered  it  is  often 
more  convenient  to  use  the  kinematical  definition.  It  is  given  iu 
terms  of  /i,  the  coefficient  of  viscosity,  by  the  equation 

where  p  is  the  density  of  the  substance,  and  v  the  kinematic  viscosity. 

The  viscosity  of  fluids  has  been  determined  experimentally  in 
three  distinct  ways — by  flow  of  the  fluid  through  tubes,  by  motion 
in  the  fluid  of  pendulums  or  vibrating  disks,  and  by  the  oscilla- 
tions of  spheres  filled  with  the  fluid.  The  last  was  employed  by 
Helmholtz  and  Von  PiotroVski  in  their  investigation  of  liquids,' 
but  it  is  not  applicable  to  the  case  of  gases.  Experiments  on  tlie 
flow  through  capillary  tubes  have  been  carried  out  by  Poiseuille '  for 
liquids,  and  by  Graham,*  Meyer,"  Springmiih),'  andPuluj  »  for  ga.ses. 
This,  the  transpiration  method,  is  the  most  effective. for  comparing 
Tiscosities,  which  are  directly  proportional  to  the  times  of  trans- 
piration of  the  respective  gases.  Jhere  is,  however,  a  little 
uncertainty  as  to  the  effect  of  the  capillary  tube, — so  that,  for 
measurijx^  absolutely  the  viscosity  for  any  one  gas,  the  method  is 
not  80  trastworthy  as  the  second  method.  Here  we  may  use 
either  pendulams  swinging  through  small  arcs  or  disks  oscillating 
in  their  own  plane  under  the  action  of  torsion.  In  both  the 
measurement  depends  upon  the  rate  at  which  the  amplitude  of 
oscillation  diminishes. 

Stokes,  who  first  satisfactorily  discussed  the  true  nature  of 
piscosity,  tested  the  theory  by  a  discussion'  of  the  pendulum 
experiments  of  Dubuat  (1786),  Bessel  (1826),  and  Baily  (1832). 
From  Baily's  results  he  calculated  -000104  (in  metric  units)  as  the 
coefiicient  of  viscosity  of  air.  Meyer  ^  similarly  deduced  from 
Bessel's  and  Girault's'  experiments  the  values  •000275  and 
•000384.  It  is  not  in  the  least  surprising  that  these  are  all  pretty 
wide  of  the  true  value,  seeing  that  the  experimenters  had  not  the 
special  problem  of  finding  the  viscosity  before  them. 

Meyer,  to  whom  we  owe  a  very  complete  series  of  valuable 
memoirs  on  the  subject,  has  more  recently  experimented '"with  three 
different-sized  pendulums.  The  values  deduced  for  the  viscosity 
were  -000232,  -000233,  and  -600184.  The  last  number,  given  by  the 
shortest  pendulum,  Meyer  considers  to  be  the  best. 

Maxwell,"  Meyer,'^  and  Kundt  and  Warburg"  have  experimented 
with  oscillating  disks.  The  methods  of  Maxwell  and  Meyer  were 
BO  far  similar  that  each  used  an  arrangement  of  three  horizontal 
circular  disks,  fixed  centrally  to  the  same  vertical  axis,  and  sus- 
pended by  a  torsion  wire  inside  a  receiver.  The  pressure  and  tem- 
perature of  the  air  or  gas  inside  could  be  adjusted  to  any  desired 
values  within  certain  limits.  In  Maxwell's  apparatus,  which  Meyer 
adopted  in  his  later  researches,  the  moving  disks  vibrated  between 
parallel  fixed  disks,  which  were  perforated  in  the  centre  so  as  to 
allow  the  vertical  suspended  axis  to  pass  freely  through  them. 
Each  disk  thus  oscillated  in  its  own  plane  between  two  parallel 
fixed  surfaces.  After  the  disks  were  set  in  position,  and  the  air  in 
<he  receiver  brought  to  the  desired  temperature  and  pressure,  the 
suspended  disks  were  set  in  oscillation.  This  was  effected  magneti- 
^ly,  a  small  magnet  fixed  to  the  end  of  the  suspended  axis  being 
ticted  upon  by  an  external  magnet  suitably  adjusted.  Each  disk, 
in  its  oscillations,  dragged  aft»r  it  the  lajier  of  air  in  immediate  con- 
tact with  it ;  and  in  virtue  c/'  viscosity  this  oscillation  was  trans- 

»  Phil,  ifag.,  1860.  and  Phil.  Trans..  1867. 

•  Sittu>igsber.  der  Winner  Akad.,  1860. 

•  Mem.  des  Saranis  grangers,  1R46.  *  Phil.  Trans.,  1846,  1849. 
5  Poggendor^s  Ann.,  cxlviii..  1873. 

«  SUiungsber.  d.  Wiener  Akad.,  Ixlx.,  1878. 

7  Cam.  Phil.  Tram.,  Ix.,  1850.  '  Poggendorff't  Ann.,  0«xv.,  1865. 

»  Uim.  de  rAiad.,  etc.,  de  Cam.  1860. 

">  Poggendorjrs  Ann.,  cxlll.,  1871.  "  Phil.  Trans.,  clil.,  1866. 

"  Poggendorff't  Ann.,  cxclil..  IS71.  and  fxlviil.,  1R73. 

"  Poggendorff't  Ann.,  civ.  clvl..  187i- 


mitted  with  diminishing  amplitude  from  layer  to  layer  until  the 
fixed  disks  were  reached.  In  thus  setting  and  sustaining  in  motion 
a  mass  of  gas,  the  disk  wa^  doing  work  ;  and,  if  left  to  itself  and  to 
the  action  of  the  torsion  suspension,  it  oscillated  with  gradually 
diminishing  range  until  it  came  to  rest.  The  viscosity  of  the  air 
was  not  the  only  retarding  influence.  The  torsion  wire  had  also  a 
coefficient  of  viscosity  ;  and  then  there  was  a  possible  resistanoe  due 
to  the  slipping  of  the  fluid  at  the  surfaces  of  the  disks.  These  vari- 
ous effects  were  discriminated  by  suitable  modifications.  Thus  by 
placing  the  oscillating  disks  in  contact  with  each  other,  and  setting 
two  of  the  fixed  disks  at  measured  distances  above  and  below, 
Maxwell  reduced  the  number  of  surfaces  in  contact  with  the  fluid, 
and  60  increased  the  relative  importance  of  the  effect  due  to  the 
wire's  viscosity.  Again,  by  diminishing  the  distances  between  th6 
fixed  and  oscillating  disks,  he  made  the  conditions  more  favourable 
to  the  effect  (if  any)  due  to  the  slipping.  This  latter  effect  was 
found  to  be  so  small  as  to  be  almost  within  the  errors  of  obsetvation  ; 
consequently  Maxwell  felt  himself  warranted  in  calculating  the 
coefficient  of  viscosity  on  the  assumption  that  there  was  no  slipping. 

Maxwell's  final  result  in  metric  (C.  G.  S.  1  units  for  the  coefficient 
of  viscosity  of  dry  air  is 

^=-0001878(1 -I- -003659), 
where  i  is  the  temperature  in  degrees  Centigrade.  Meyer's  reenlt  i» 

/I  =-000190(1-1- -00266). 
Maxwell  found  the  effect  of  pressure  to  be  inappreciable  down  to  a 
pressure  of  12  mm.,  and  thus  verified  the  deduction  from  theory. 

Kundt  and  Warburg,  in  their  experiments,  used  only  one  disk, 
which  oscillated  under  the  influence  of  a  bifilar  suspension 
between  two  fixed  disks.  They  carried  the  pressure  down  to  as 
low  as  0-6  mm.  At  20  mm.  pressure  the  viscosity  was  the  same 
as  at  the  atmospheric  pressure  ;  but  at  lower  pressures  a  slight 
diminution  began  to  snow  itself.  According  to  Crookes's  later 
researches,  this  diminution  becomes  more  and  more  marked  at  the 
higher  exhaustions.  The  manner  in  which  the  viscosity  then 
diminishes  coincides  remarkably  with  the  manner  in  which  the  free 
path  increases.  It  could  not  be  expected  that  in  such  modified 
circumstances  Maxwell's  law  would  continue  to  apply.  When 
the  gas  becomes  so  far  rarefied  that  the  mean  free  path  of  a  mole- 
cule is  not  small  compared  to  the  space  in  which  the  gas  is  confined, 
the  motion  of  the  molecules  cannot  be  treated  statistically.  Hence 
the  deductions  from  a  theory  based  upon  the  statistic  method  will 
no  longer  hold  good. 

Maxwell,  Kundt  and  Warburg,  and  Crookcs  investigated  by  the 
disk  method  the  viscosities  of  other  gases,  the  values  for  which  are 
compared  below  with  the  transpiration  times  of  the  same  gases 
through  capillary  tubes.  Maxwell  also  found  that  damp  air,  at 
100  mm.  pressure,  and  over  water  at  about  20°  C,  was  one-sixtieth 
less  viscous  than  dry  air  at  the  same  temperature.  Kundt  and 
Warburg  found  for  water  vapour,  at  21°  C.  and  16  mm.  pressure, 
the  value 

^--0000976, 

a  little  more  than  half  that  of  air. 

The  results  obtained  by  Meyer  and  Springmiihl  and  by  Prhij 
from  their  transpiration  experiments  agree  well  with  those  already 
given.  In  such  experimeuts,  however,  the  slipping  of  the  gas  over 
the  solid  surface  has  iu  certain  circumstances  a  measurable  effect. 
This  slipping  is  measured  by  a  certain  coefficient,  called  the 
Ohitungs-Coefficwnt  by  Helmholtz  and  Von  Piotrowski.  When  this 
coefficient  becomes  appreciable,  the  gas  in  contact  with  the  solid 
surface,  instead  of  being  at  rest  relatively  to  that  surface,  will  be 
gliding  over  it  with  a  finite  velocity  v.  'The  circumstances  of  the 
motion  will  be  very  nearly  the  same  if  we  remove  a  layer  of  the  solid 
surface  and  replace  it  by  fluid,  the  new  surface  of  fluid  in  contact 
with  the  new  solid  surface  being  at  rest.  The  thickness  which  must 
be  so  removed  is  the  measure  of  the  coefficient  of  slipping.  Kundt 
and  Warburg,'*  in  their  experiments  with  glass  tubes,  found  this 
coefficient  for  dry  air  at  about  20°  C.  to  be 
8//)  centimetres, 
where  p  is  the  pressure  in  dynes  per  square  centimetre,  which  i* 
nearly  the  same  as  in  millionths  of  an  atmosphere.  The  value  for 
hydrogen  on  glass  is  15/p.  Hence  at  ordinary  pressures  and 
moderate  exhaustions  this  coefficient  is  very  small,  becoming 
appreciable  only  at  low  pressures. 

The  relation  between  viscosity  and  temperature  is  indicated_  at 
once  by  Maxwell's  and  Meyer's  formulse  given  above.  According 
to  Maxwell,  the  viscosity  is  proportional  to  the  absolute  tempera- 
ture. If  in  the  kinetic  theory  the  forces  between  the  molecules  are 
disiegarded,  that  is,  if  the  molecules  are  assumed  to  rebound  after 
collision  like  elastic  spheres,  the  relation  deduced  is  that  the  vis- 
cosity varies  as  the  square  root  of  the  absolute  temperature. 
Hence  the  mutual  molecular  forces  must  be  taken  into  account. 
Maxwell's  experimental  law  would  require  any  two  molecules  to 
repel  each  other  with  a  force  varying  inversely  as  the  fifth  power  of 
the  distance.     According  to  Meyer,  however,   the  viscosity  v,-irie« 

"  Poggendorff't  Ann.,  1876. 


P  N  E  — F  N  E 


249 


nccording  to  a  power  of  the  absolute  temperature  Ies3  than  unity, 
hut  greater  than  one-half.  His  results  in  this  respect  are  corro- 
borated by  those  of  Kundt  and  Warburg,  Puluj,  and  other  later 
experimenters.  The  '77  power  is  probably  not  far  from  the  truth. 
Hence  we  may  give  as  the  final  value  for  the  viscosity  of  dry  air 
the  expression 

^=■000185(1+ ■00286). 

The  following  table  gives  the  values  for  the  different  gases,  as 
Jetermined-by  the  different  investigators,  the  viscosity. of  air  being 
taken  as  unity. 


Air 

Oxygen 

Nitrogen 

Carbonic  oxide.. 
Carbonic  acid  .. 
Hydrogen 


1000 

1-112 

.  -971 

■968 

■840 

■488 


1^000 


•859 
■516 


Meyer. 


1-000 
r095 


•851 
■601 


Kundt  and 
Warburg, 


rooo 


•806 
■488 


Crookcs. 

rooo 

M19 
•972 
■972 
■920 
•444 


i^kes  s 

lio. 

iter) 


Vi'e  do  not  here  enter  into  the  question  of  the  thermodynamics 
of  gases  ;  enough  to  say  that  the  relations  between  viscosity, 
diffusion,  and  therm^  conductivity  deduced  by  Jlaxwell  from  tbe 
kinetic  theory  have  received  remarkable  corroboration  from  the 
experiments  of  Losehmicht,  Stefan,  Kundt  and  Warburg,  and 
others.  A  discussion  of  the  dynamical  properties  of  gases  would 
not.  however,  appear  complete  without  mention  of  Crookes's  so- 
called  radiometer,  even  though  these  phenomena  of  high  vacua  are 
ultimately  thermodynamic. 

The  typical  form  of  the  radiometer  is  a  glass  balb,  in  which  is 
hung  a  delicately  poised  arrangement  of  vanes.  These,  usually 
four  in  number,  are  fixed  at  the  extremities  of  two  light  horizontal 
cross-rods,  which  are  supported  so  as  to  be  capable  of  easy  rotation 
about  a  central  vertical  axis.  The  vanes  or  disks  ai-e  set  in  vertical 
planes  passing  through  the  axis  ;  and  each  has  its  one  side  brigl>t, 
and  the  other  blat^kened.  For  any  rotation  the  motion  of  each 
vane  is  exactly  alike  ;  that  is,  either  the  bright  faces  all  move  first, 
or  the  dark  faces  do  so.  If  the  pressure  of  the  gas  inside  the  bulb 
is  reduced  to  a  very  low  exhaustion,  the  vanes  under  the  action  of 
light  or  heat  will  begin  to  rotate.  The  mere  bringing  the  radio- 
meter out  of  a  dark  region  into  daj-light  is  enough  to  set  up  this 
rotation.  In  ordinary  circumstances  the  dark  faces  are  apparently 
repelled,  and  the  vanes  move  round  with  their  bright  faces  in 
advance. 

The  phenomenon  is  really  a  thermal  one,  as  was  demonstrated 
experimentally  by  Tait  and  Dewar.'  Further,  although  it  is  most 
evident  in  high  vacua  (provided  they  are  not  too  high),  it  can  be 
produced  in  very  moderate  exhaustions  by  a  suitable  arrangement, 
as  was  long  ago  pointed  out  by  Fresnel.  Thus,  if  under  the  receiver 
of  an  ordinary  air-pump  a  light  disk  be  delicately  poised  near  a 
)iarallel  fixed  surface,  it  will  be  apparently  strongly  repelled  by 
this  surface  if  the  opposing  surfaces  are  brought  to  different  tem- 
peratures. This  may  be  effectively  done  by  means  of  a  ray  of 
sunlight.  In  this  experiment,  the  essential  condition  is  (as  shown 
by  Tait  and  Dcw-ar)  that  the  surfaces  be  at  a  distance  comparable 
to  the  mean  free  path  of  tlie  gaseous  molecules.  In  Ci'ookes's 
radiometer  the  free  path  is  very  long,  and  hence  there  is  apparent 
repulsion  between  the  blackened  surfaces  and  the  walls  of  the 
bulb.  The  reason  simply  is  that,  imder  the  action  of  the  radiant 
energy  directed  in  upon  the  vanes,  the  dark  faces,  absorbing  more 
energy,  become  warmer  than  the  bright  faces.  Hence  an  inequality 
of  temperature  is  produced  in  thehiglily  rarefied  gas,  and  this  urings 
into  existence  a  stress  which  displaces  the  vanes. 

Liquid  in  the  spheroidal  state  illust'rates  the  same  princi|ile. 
That  a  drop  of  water  may  be  supported  over  a  hot  surface  without 
touching  it  re<iuires  an  upward  pressure.  In  other  words,  the 
vertical  stress  in  the  vapour  and  gas  which  separate  the  drop  from 
the  surface  must  bo  greater  than  the  ordinary  gaseous  pressure  all 
round  the  drop.  This  stress  exists  because  of  the  difference  of 
temperature  between  the  drop  and  the  surface,  so  that  the  pressure 
in  the  thin  layer  of  vapour  and  gas  is  slightly  greater  in  the 
vertical  than  in  any  horizontal  direction. 

A  general  notion  of  the  manner  in  which  this  stress  is  sustained 
may  be  obtained  from  the  following  consideration.  According  to 
the  kinetic  theory  of  gases,  the  mean  speed  of  the  molcculw  is  a 
function  of  the  temperature— the  higher  the  tempcraluro  the 
greater  the  speed.  Hence  molecules,  impinging  upon  a  surfuco 
at  a  higher  temperature,  and  in  a  direction  more  nearly  perpen- 
dicular to  it,  will  rebound  from  that  surface  with  increased 
momentum.  The  simultaneous  motion  of  the.  surface,  as  if 
repelled,  is  then  somewhat  analogous  to  the  recoil  of  n  cannon 
when  fired.  The  whole  investigation  of  the  question  is,  however, 
by  no  means  simple.  Maxwell  has  discussed  it  with  char.ictorialic 
lucidity  in   his  latest  contribution'  to  the  dynamical   theory  of 


'  Proc.  Roy.  Spc.  Edin.,  Kni  Nature,  1875. 

10— Yl 


*Phil.  Traiw.,  1879. 


gases.  He  finds  that,  when  inequalities  of  temperature  exist  at  a 
given  point  in  a  gas,  the  pressure  is  not  the  same  in  all  directions. 
Its  value  in  any  given  direction,  in  so  far  as  it  depends  npon  tb6 
temperature  inequality,  is  proportional  to  the  space-rate  of  change 
of  the  space-variation  of  the  temperature  in  that  direction — that 
is,  to  the  second  differential  coefficient  of  the  temperature  with 
respect  to  the  given  direction.  Hence  the  pressure  will  be  greatest 
along  the  line  tor  which  this  'differential  coefficient  is  a  maximum. 
It  appears  that  the  pressure  so  called  into  existence  by  a  possible 
temperature  inequality  is  very  minute  at  ordinary  hydrostatic 
pressures,  but  becomes  considerable  when  the  pressure  of  the  gas  is 
made  very  small.  If  the  inequality  of  temperature  throughout  the 
gas  is  due  to  the  presence  of  small  bodies,  w-hose  temperatures 
differ  from  the  temperature  of  the  gas  at  a  distance  from  them, 
then  the  small  bodies  will  be  acted  upon  by  the  stresses  set  up, 
provided  they  are  of  the  same  order  of  smallness  as  the  mean  free 
path  of  the  molecules.  In  the  case  of  two  such  small  bodies,  there 
will  be  apparent  repulsion  between  them  if  the  bodies  are  w-armer 
than  the  air  at  a  distance  from  them,  and  attraction  if  they  are 
colder.  If  one  is  warmer  and  the  other  colder,  the  action  may  bo 
either  attractive  or  repulsive,  according  to  the  relative  sizes  of  the 
bodies  and  their  exact  temperatures.  The.se  result3"are  obtained  by 
considering  only  the  stresses  normal  to  the  solid  surfaces.  Wheu 
the  tangential  stresses  are  taken  into  account,  then  it  appears  that 
inequality  of  temperature,  when  the  flow  of  heat  becomes  steady, 
cannot  produce  other  than  equilibrium  in  the  material  system 
immersed  in  the  gas.  Hence  Maxwell  believes  that  the  explana- 
tion of  Crookes's  phenomenon  must  depend  ultimately  upon  the 
slipping  of  the  gas  over  the  solid  surface.  If  such  slipping  be 
permitted,  its  effect  will  be  to  diminish  the  tangential  stresses 
acting  on  the  solid  surface  without  affecting  the  normal  stresses  ;  and 
hence  the  equilibrium  will  be  destroyed.  In  attempting  to  express 
the  conditions  to  be  satisfied  by  the  gas  at  the  solid  surface, 
Jlaxwell  is  led  to  the  consideration  of  the  phenomenon  discovercu 
by  Osborne  Reynolds'  and  named  thermal  transpiration.  This 
phenomenon  consists  of  a  sliding  of  the  gas  over  the  surface  of  an 
unequally  heated  solid  from  the  colder  to  the  hotter  parts. 
Maxwell  considers  the  particular  case  of  the  slow  steady  flow  of 
gas  along  a  capillary  tube  of  circular  section,  the  temperature  of 
which  varies  steadily  from  point  to  point.  The  amount  of  gas 
which  passes  through  any  section  depends  both  upon  the  rate  of 
change  of  pressure  and  the  rate  of  change  of  temperature  in  passing 
along  the  axis  of  the  tube.  If  the  pressure  is  uniform  there  wWX 
be  a  flow  of  pas  from  the  colder  to  the  hotter  end.  If  there  is  no 
flow  of  gas,  the  pressure  will  increase  from  the  colder  to  the  hotter 
end.  Tlie  case  of  uniform  temperature  is  the  ordinary  case  of 
transpiration  through  capillary  tubes,  as  discussed  experimentally 
by  Graham,  Meyer,  Puluj,  and  Kundt  and  Warburg.  The  experi- 
mental investigation  of  the  first  two  cases  seems  at  juesent  hopeless, 
on  account  of  the  minuteness  of  the  quantities  to  bo  measured. 
Reynolds  experimented,  not  on  ca]iillary  tubes,  but  on  the  passage 
of  the  gas  through  a  porous  plate,  the  temperatures  being  different 
on  the  two  sides.  (C.  G.  K.) 

PNEUMONIA,  or  inflammation  of  the  substance  of  tha 
lungs,  manifests  itself  in  several  forms  which  differ  from 
each  other  in  their  nature,  causes,  and  results, — viz.,  (1) 
Acute  Croupous  or  Lobar  Pneumonia,  the  most  common 
form  of  the  disease,  in  which  the  inflammation  affects  a 
limited  area,  usually  a  lobe  or  lobes  of  the  lung,  and  runs 
a  rapid  course  ;  (2)  Catarrhal  Pneumonia,  Broncho- Pneu- 
monia, or  Lobular  Pneumonia,  which  occurs  as  a  result  of 
antecedent  bronchitis,  and  is  more  diffuse  in  its  distribu- 
tion than  the  former ;  (3)  Interstitial  Pneumonia  or  Cir 
rhosis  of  the  lung,  a  more  chronic  form  of  inflammation, 
which  affects  chiefly  the  franicwork  or  fibrous  stroma  of 
the  lung  and  is  closely  allied  to  jihthisis. 

Acute  Croupous  or  Lobar  Pneumonia. — ITiis  is  the 
disease  commonly  known  as  inflammation  of  the  lungs. 
It  derives  its  name  from  its  pathological  chnmctcrs,  which 
are  well  marked.  The  ch.nges  which  take  place  in  the 
lung  are  chiefly  three.  (1)  Congestion,  or  engorgement, 
the  blood-ves.sels  being  distended  and  the  lung  more 
voluminous  and  heavier  than  normal,  and  of  dark  red 
colour.  Its  air  cells  still  contain  air.  (2)  Red  Hepatiza- 
tion, so  called  from  its  rcsenibianco  to  liver  tissue.  In 
this  stage  there. is  poured  into  the  air  cells  of  the  affected 
part  an  exudation  consisting  of  amorphous  fibrin  together 
with  epithelial  cells  and  red  and  white  blood  corpuscles, 
the  whole  forming  a  viscid  mass  which  occupies  not  only 

IPtoc.  Roy.  Soc,  1879. 


250 


P  N  E  U  M  0  Is   I  A 


the  cells  but  also  the  finer  bronchi,  and  which  speedily 
coagulates,  causing  the  lung  to  become  firmly  consolidated. 
In  this  condition  the  cells  are  entirely  emptied  of  air,  their 
blood-vessels  are  pressed  upon  by  the  exudation,  and  the 
lung  substance,  rendered  brittle,  sinks  in  water.  The  appear- 
ance of  a  section  of  the  lung  in  this  stage  has  been  likened 
to  ^  that  of  red  granite.  It  is  to  the  character  of  the 
exudation,  consisting  largely  of  coagulable  fibril,  that  tlie 
terra  croupous  is  due.  ^  (3)  Grey  Hepaii-atioiuC  In  this 
stage  the  lung  still  retains  its  liver-like  consistence^  but  its 
colour  is  now  grey,' not  unlike  the  appearance  of  grey 
granite.  This  is  due  to  the  change  taking  place  in  the 
exudation,  which  undergoes  resolution  by  a  process  of  fatty 
degeneration,  pus  formation,  liquefaction,  and  ultimately 
absorption, — so  that  in  a  comparatively  short  period  the 
air  vesicles  get  rid  of  their  morbid  contents  and  resume 
their  normal  function.  This  is  hapipily  the  termination  of 
the  majority  of  cases  of  croupous  pneumonia,  yet  it  occa- 
Bionally  happens  that  this  favourable  result  is  not  attained, 
and  that  further  changes  of  a  retrograde  kind  take  place 
in-  the  inflamed  lung  in  the  form  of  suppuration  and 
abscess  or  of  gangrene.  In  such  instances  there  usually 
exists  some'  serious  constitutional  cause  which  contributes 
to  give  this  unfavourable  direction  to  the  course  of  the 
disease.  Further,  pneumonia  may  in  some  instances 
become  chronic,  the  lung  never  entirely  clearing  up,  and 
it  may  terminate  in  phthisis.  Pneumonia  may  be  confined 
to  a  portion  or  the  whole  of  one  lung,  or  it  may  be  double, 
affecting  both  lungs,  which  is  a  serious  and  often  fatal 
form.  The  bases  or  middle  of  the  lungs  are  the  parts  most 
commonly  inflamed,  but  the  apex  is  sometimes  the  only 
part  affected.  The  right  lung  is  considerably  more  fre- 
quently the  seat  of  pneumonia  than  the  left  lung. 

JIany  points  in  the  pathology  of  tliis  form  of  pneumonia  remain 
Btill  to  be  cleared  up.  Thus  there  is  a  growing  opinion  that  it  is 
not  a  simple  lung  inflammation,  as  was  formerly  suriposeJ,  but 
that,  as  regards  its  origin,  progress,  and  termination,  it  possesses 
many  of  the  characters  of  a  fever  or  of  a  constitutional  affection. 
An  interesting  and  important  fact  in  this  connexion  is  the  recent 
discovery  by  Friedkinder  and  others  of  a  micro-organism  or  bacillus 
in  the  blood,  lungs,  and  other  tissues  in  cases  of  pneumonia,  which, 
when  inoculated  into  certain  lower  animals,  is  followed  by  the 
symptoms  and  appearances  characteristic  of  that  disease.  While  it 
must  be  confessed  that  such  inoculation  e.tperiments  carried  on  in 
rabbits,  guinea  pigs,  or  mice  are  scarcely  suflicient  by  themselves 
to  settle  the  question  of  the  specific  and  infectious  nature  of 
pneumonia  as  it  affects  the  human  subject,  yet  they  are  of  distinct 
value  as  evidence  pointing  in  that  direction.  Further,  there  are 
numerous  instances  on  record  in  which  this  disease  has  appeared 
to  spread  as  an  epidemic  in  localities  or  in  families  in  such  a  way 
as  strongly  to  suggest  the  idea  of  infectiveness.  Cases  of  this  kind, 
however,  are  open  to  the  question  as  to  whether  there  may  not 
coexist  some  other  disease,  such  as  a  fever,  of  which  the  pneumonia 
present  is  but  a  complication.  The  whole  subject  of  the  pathology 
of  pneumonia  is  still  under  investigation,  and  all  that  can  in  the 
meantime  be  alKrmed  is  that  it  presents  many  features  which  render 
its  phenomena  unlike  those  of  an  ordinary  inflammation,  while  on 
the  other  hand  it  has  strong  analogies  to  some  of  the  specific 
fevers.  As  regards  known  causes,  in  the  vast  majority  of  instances 
an  attack  of  pneumonia  comes  on  as  the  result  of  exposure  to  cold 
as  the  exciting  agent,  while  such  conditions  as  fatigue  and  physical 
or  mental  depression  are  often  traceable  as  powerful  predisposing 
infiuences. 

The  symptoms  of  acute  pneumonia  are  generally  well  marked  from 
xhe  beginning.  The  attack  is  usually  ushered  in  by  a  rigor  (or  in 
thildren  a  convulsion),  together  with  vomiting  and  the  speedy 
development  of  the  febrile  condition,  the  temperature  rising  to  a 
considerable  degree— 101°  to  104°  or  more.  The  pulse  is  quickened, 
and  there  is  a  marked  disturbance  in  the  respiration,  which  is  rapid, 
shallow,  and  ditticult,  the  rate  being  usually  accelerated  to  some 
two  or  three  times  its  normal  amount.  The  lips  aro  livid,  and  the 
face  has  a  dusky  flush.  Pain  in  the  side  is  felt,  especially  should 
any  amount  of  pleurisy  be  present,  as  is  often  the  case.  Congh  is 
an  early  symptom.  It  is  at  first  frequent  and  hacking,  and  is 
accompanied  with  a  little  tough  colourless  expectoration,  which 
soon,  however,  becomes  more  copious  and  of  a  rusty  brown  colour, 
either  tenacious  or  frothy  and  liquid.  Microscopically  this  con- 
sists mainly  of  epithelium,  casts  of  the  air  cells,  and  fine  bronchi, 
.together  with  granular  matter  and  blood  and  pus  corpuscles. 


The  following  are  the  chief  physical  signs  in  the  various  stag«8 
of  the  disease.  In  the  stage  of  congestion  fine  crackling  or  crepi- 
tation is  heard  'over  the  aJfcctcd  area ;  sometimes  thcie  is  very 
little  change  from  tlie  natural  breathing.  In  the  stage  of 
red  hepatization  the  allected  side  of  the  chest  is  seen  to  expand 
less  freely  tliau  the  opposite  side ;  there  is  dulness  on  percussion, 
and  increase  of  the  vocal  fremitus  ;  while  on  auscultation  the  breath 
sounds  are  tubular  or  bronchial  in  character,  with,  it  may  be,  some 
amount  of  fine  crepitation  in  certain  parts.  In  the  stage  of  grey 
hepatization  the  percussion  note  is  still  dull  and'  the  breathing 
tubular,  but  crepitations  of  coarser  quality  than  before  are  also 
audible.  These  various  physical  signs  disappear  moro  or  less 
rapidly  during  convalescence.  With  the  progress  of  the  inflammation 
the  febrile  symptoms  and  rapid  breathing  continue.  The  patient 
during  the  greater  jiart  of  the  disease  lies  on  the  back  or  on  the 
atfected  side.  The  pulse,  which  at  first  was  full,  becomes  small 
and  soft  owing  to  the  interruption  to  the  pulmonary  circulation. 
Occasionally  slight  jaundice  is  present,  due  probably  to  a  similar 
cause.  The  urine  is  scanty,  sometimes  albuminous,  and  its 
elilorides  are  diminislieil.  In  favourable  cases,  however  severe, 
there  generally  occurs  after  six  or  eight  days  a  distinct  crisis, 
marked  by  a  rapid  fall  of  the  temperature  accompanied  with 
perspiration  and  with  a  copious  discharge  of  lithates  in  the  urine. 
Although  no  material  change  is  as  yet  noticed  in  the  physical 
signs,  the  patient  breathes  more  easily,  sleep  returns,  and  conval- 
escence advances  rapidly  in  the  majority  of  instances.  In  unfavour- 
able cases  death  may  take  place  either  from  the  extent  of  the 
inflammatory  action,  especially  if  the  pneumonia  is  double,  from 
excessive  fever,  from  failure  of  the  heart's  action  or  general 
strength  at  about  the  period  of  the  crisis,  or  again  from  the 
disease  assuming  from  the  first  a  low  adynamic  form  with  delirium 
and  with  scanty  expectoration  of  greenish  or  "prune  juico" 
appearance.  Such  cases  are  seen  in  persons  worn  out  in  strength, 
in  the  aged,  and  especially  in  the  intemperate.  Death  may  also 
take  place  later  from  abscess  or  gangrene  of  the  lung  ;  or  again 
recovery  may  be  imnerfect  and  the  disease  cass  into  a  chronic 
pneumonia. 

The  treatment  of  acute  pneumonia,  which  at  one  time  was  con- 
ducted on  the  antiphlogistic  or  lowering  principle,  has  of  late 
years  undergone  a  marked  change  ;  and  it  is  now  generally  held 
that  in  ordinary  cases  very  little  active  interference  is  called  for, 
the  disease  tending  to  run  its  course  very  much  as  a  specific  fever. 
The  employment  of  blood-letting  once  so  general  is  now  only  in 
rare  instances  resorted  to ;  but,  just  as  in  pleurisy,  pain  and 
difliculty  of  breathing  may  sometimes  be  relieved  by  the  applica- 
tion of  a  few  leeches  to  the  afl"ected  side.  In  severe  cases  the 
cautious  employment  of  aconite  or  antimony  at  the  outset  appears 
useful  in  diminishing  the  force  of  the  inflammatory  action. 
Warm  applications  in  the  form  of  poultices  to  the  chest  give  com- 
fort in  many  cases.  Cough  is  relieved  by  expectorants,  of  which 
those  containing  carbonate  of  ammonia  are  specially  useful.  Any 
tendency  to  excessive  fever  may  often  be  held  in  check  by  quinine. 
The  patient  should  be  fed  with  milk,  soups,  and  other  light  forms 
of  nourishment.  In  the  later  period  of  the  disease  stimulants  may 
be  called  for,  but  most  reliance  is  to  be  placed  on  nutritious  aliment. 
After  the  acute  symptoms  disappear  counter-irritation  by  iodine  or 
a  blister  \*ill  often  prove  of  service  in  promoting  the  absorption  of 
the  inflammatory  products.  After  recovery  is  complete  the  health 
should  for  some  time  be  watched  with  care. 

When  pneumonia  is  complicated  with  any  other  ailment  or 
itself  complicates  some  pre-existing  malady,  it  must  be  dealt  with 
on  principles  applicable  to  these  conditions  as  they  may  affect  the 
individual  case. 

Catarrhal  or  Lobular  Pneumonia  (Broncho-Pneumonia) 
differs  from  the  last  in  several  important  pathological  and 
clinical  points.  Here  the  inflammation  is  more  diffuse  and 
tends  to  affect  lobules  of  lung  tissue  here  and  there,  rather 
than  one  or  more  lobes  as  in  croupous  pneumonia.  At 
first  the  affected  patches  are  dense,  non-crepitant,  with  a 
bluish  red  appearance  tending  to  become  grey  or  yellow. 
Under  the  microscope  the  air  vesicles  and  finer  bronchi  are 
crowded  with  cells,  the  result  of  the  inflammatory  process, 
but  there  is  no  fibrinous  exudation  such  as  is  present  in 
croupous  pneuraona.  In  favourable  cases  resolution  takes 
place  by  fatty  degeneration,  liquefaction,  and  absorp- 
tion of' the  cells,  but  on  the  other  hand  they  may  undergo 
caseous  degenerative  changes,  abscesses  may  form,  or  a 
condition  of  chronic  interstitial  pneumonia  be  developed 
in  both  of  which  cases  the  condition  passes  into  one  of 
phthisis.  Evidence  of  previous  bronchitis  is  usually 
present  in. the  lungs  affected  ■with  catarrhal  pneumonia. 
In  the  great  majority  of   instances   catarrhal  pneumonia 


p  N  O  — P  O 


251 


occur;  as  an  accompaniment  or  sequel  of  bronchitis  either 
from  the  inflammation  passing  from  the  finer  bronchi  to 
the  pulmonary  air  vesicles,  or  from  its  affecting  portions  of 
lung  which  have  undergone  collapse.  It  occurs  most 
frequently  in  children,  and  is  often  connected  with  some 
pre-existing  acute  ailment  in  which  the  bronchi  are 
implicated,  such'  as  measles  or  hooping  cough.  It  likewise 
affects  adults  and  aged  people  in  a  more  chronic  form 
as  the  result  of  bronchitis.  Sometimes  a  condition  of 
catarrhal  pneumonia  may  be  set  up  by  the  plugging  of  one 
or  more  branches  of  the  pulmonary  artery,  as  may  occur  in 
heart  disease,  pyaemia,  <fcc. 

The  symptoms  characterizing  the  onset  of  catarrhal  pneumonia 
in  its  more  acute  form  are  the  occurrence  during  an  attack  of 
bronchitis  of  a  sudden  and  marked  elevation  of  temperature,  to- 
gether with  a  quickened  pulse  and  increased  difficulty  in  breathing. 
The  cough  becomes  short  and  painful,  and  there  is  little  or  no  ex- 
pcctoratiou.  The  physical  signs  are  not  distinct,  being  mixed  up 
witli  those  of  the  antecedent  bronchitis;  but,  should  the  pneumonia 
be  extensive,  there  may  be  an  inipaired  percussion  note  with  tubular 
bieathiiig  and  some  bronchophony. 

Acute  catarrhal  pneumonia  must  be  regarded  as  a  condition  of 
Rfirious  import.  It  is  apt  to  run  rapidly  to  a  fatal  termination,  but 
on  the  other  hand  a  favourable  result  is  not  unfrequent  if  it  is  re- 
cognized in  time  to  admit  of  efficient  treatment.  In  the  more 
chronic  form  it  tends  to  assume  the  characters  of  chronic  phthisis 
(see  Phthisis).  The  treatment  is  essentially  that  for  the  more 
severe  forms  of  bronchitis  (see  Bronchitis),  where,  in  addition  to 
expectorants,  together  with  ammoniacal,  ethereal,  and  alcoholic 
stimulants,  the  maintenance  of  the  strength  by  good  nourishment 
and  tonics  is  clearly  indicated.  The  breathing  may  often  be  re- 
lieved by  light  warm  applications  to  the  chest  and  back.  Con- 
valescence is  often  prolonged,  and  special  care  will  always  be  required 
ill  view  of  the  tendency  of  the  disease  to  develop  into  phthisis. 

Chronic  Interstitial  Pneumonia  or  Cirrhosis  of  the  Lung 
is  a  slow  inflammatory  change  affecting  chiefly  one  portion 
of  the  lung  texture,  viz.,  its  fibrous  stroma. 

The  changes  produced  in  the  lung  by  this  disease  are 
marked  chiefly  by  the  growth  of  nucleated  fibroid  tissue 
around  the  walls  of  the  bronchi  and  vessels,  and  in  the 
intervesicular  septa,  which  proceeds  to  such  an  e.xtent  as 
to  invade  and  obliterate  the  air  cells.  The  lung,  which  is 
at  first  enlarged,  becomes  shrunken,  dense  in  texture,  and 
solid,  any  unaffected  portions  being  emphysematous ;  the 
bronchi  are  dilated,  the  pleura  thickened,  and  the  lung 
substance  often  deeply  pigmented,  especially  in  the  case  of 
miners,  who  are  apt  to  suffer  from  this  disease.  In  its 
later  stages  the  lung  breaks  down,  and  cavities  form  in  its 
substance  as  in  ordinary  j)lithisis. 

This  condition  is  usually  present  to  a  greater  or  less 
degree  in  almost  ail  chronic  diseases  of  the  lungs  and 
bronchi,  but  it  is  specially  apt  to  arise  in  an  extensive  form 
from  pre-existing  catarrhal  pneumonia,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  occurs  in  connexion  with  occupations  which 
necessitate  the  habitual  inhalation  of  particles  of  dust,  such 
as  those  of  colliers,  flax-dressers,  stonemasons,  millers,  ic. 

The  symptoms  are  very  similar  to  those  of  chronic  phthisis  (see 
PilTHisi.s),  especially  increasing  difficulty  of  breathing,  particularly 
on  exertion,  cough  either  dry  or  with  expectoration,  sometimes 
copious  and  fetid.  In  the  case  of  cnul-mincrs  the  sputum  is  black 
from  containing  carbonaceous  matter. 

The  physical  signs  are  deficient  expansion  of  the  affected  side  — 
tlie  disease  being  mostly  confined  to  one  lung — increasing  dnlncss 
en  percussion,  tubular  breathing,  and  moist  sounds.  ■  As  the  disease 
progresses  retraction  of  the  side  becomes  manifest,  and  the  heart 
and  liver  may  bo  displaced.  Ultimately  the  condition  both  as 
regards  physical  signs  and  symptoms  takes  the  character^  of  the 
later  stages  of  phthisis  with  colliquative  symptoms,  increasing 
emaciation,  and  death.  Occasionally  dro|)sy  is  present  from  the 
heart  becoming  affected  in  the  coarse  of  the  disease.  The  malady 
is  usually  of  long  duration,  many  cases  remaining  for  years  in  a 
stationary  condition  and  even  undergoing  temporary  improvement 
in  mild  weather,  but  the  tendency  is  on  the  whole  downward. 

The  treatment  is  conducted  on  similar  principles  to  tho.se 
applicable  in  the  case  of  phthisis.  Should  the  malady  bo  con- 
nected with  a  particular  occupation,  the  disease  might  bo  averted 
or  at  least  greatly  modified  by  early  withdrawal  from  such  source 
of  irritation.  (J.  0.  A.) 


PNOM-PENH,  the  capital  of  Cambodia  (see  vol.  iv. 
p.  72.5). 

PO,  the  largest  river  of  Italj',  traverses  the  whole  length 
of  the  great  plain  between  the  Alps  and  the  Apennines, 
which  was  in  the  Miocene  period  an  arm  of  the  sea  con- 
necting the  Adriatic  with  the  Mediterranean  by  what  is 
now  the  Col  d'Altare  or  Col  di  Cadibona  and  has  gradually 
been  filled  by  detritus  from  the  surrounding  highlands. 
That  its  course  lies  much  nearer  the  Apennines  than  the 
Alps  is  evidently  due  to  the  fact  that  the  tributaries  from 
the  loftier  range  on  the  north,  whether  in  the  form  of 
glacier  or  stream,  have  all  along  been  much  more  powerful 
than  the  tributaries  from  tl^g  south.  The  total  length  of 
the  river  from  its  conventional  source  to  the  mouth  of  the 
principal  channel  is  417J  miles,  and  the  area  of  its  basin, 
which  includes  portions  of  Switzerland  and  Austria,  is 
estimated  at  26,798  square  miles.  The  general  course  of 
the  river  haa  been  already  described  in  Italy  (vol.  liiL 
p.  435). 

The  Po  forms  a  very  extensive  delta,  and  is  probably 
one  of  the  most  active  of  all  rivers  in  the  work  of  denuda- 
tion. Prony  has  calculated  that  between  1200  and  1600 
the  delta  advanced  at  the  rate  of  80  feet  per  annum  ;  and 
between  1600  and  1804  the  rate  is  said  to  have  been  as 
much  as  230  feet.  This  advance  has  naturally  been 
attended  by  great  changes  in  the  course  and  size  of  the 
several  channels.  Kavenna,  for  example,  once  a  great 
port,  now  stands  on  dry  land  4  miles  from  the  sea.  The 
modern  lagoons  of  Comacchio,  which  stretch  southwards 
from  the  delta,  are  being  artificially  reclaimed  by  the  help 
of  the  alluvial  deposits. 

In  its  ordinary  condition  the  Po  has  a  depth  between  Pancalicri 
and  the  mouth  of  the  Ticino  of  from  6  to  10  feet,  and  between  the 
mouth  of  the  Lambio  and  that  of  the  Adda  of  about  14  or  15  feet. 
Lower  down  the  depth  occasionally  exceeds  40  feet.  Permanent 
fords  exist  only  in  the  upper  Po,  and  between  the  mouths  of 
the  Ticino  and  the  Lambro.  In  times  of  great  drought  the  bed 
is  quite  dry  at  Rovells,  and  fords  appear  below  Casalmaggiore  and 
at  Borgoforto,  where  the  French  and  Germans  crossed  in  1796, 
1807,  1813,  and  1814  ;  but  in  general  the  river  forms  a  complete 
barrier  both  to  foot  and  horse.  The  principal  points  where  crossing 
is  effected  by  ferries  or  bridges  are  'Jloncalieri,  Turin,  'Casale 
Mouferrato,  Frassinato,  *Valenza,  *JIezzana  Corti,  "Piaccnza, 
Cremona,  Casalmaggiore,  BresccUo,  *Borgoforte,  Sau  Benedetto, 
Ostiglia,  *Occhiobello,  Pontelagoscuro,  Francolino.  Itailway 
bridges  exist  nt  the  places  distinguished  by  an  asterisk. 

Tlie  river  in  general  is  at  its  fullest  in  May  ami  June,  and  at  its 
lowest  in  January  (see  details  in  Lombardini's  elaborate  study  ou 
the  lower  Po  in  Mcmorie  del  llralc  Jstiluio  Lombanio,  Milan, 
1870).  The  ordinary  Hoods  on  the  Po  arc  attended  with  little 
danger  ;  but  at  intervals  sometimes  of  a  few  sometimes  of  many 
years  they  become  events  of  the  gravest  national  concern.  Those 
of  U51  and  170.5  are  among  the  most  destructive  recorded  in 
history,  and  in  the  present  century  the  more  memorable  are  those 
of  1839,  184G,  1855,  1857,  18U8,  18/2,  and  1879.  In  1872  H.-iO 
square  miles  of  country  between  the  Keno  and  tlic  Adige  were 
submerged,  the  district  about  Modcna  was  turned  into  a  lake, 
the  people  of  Revere  saved  the  rest  of  their  tnwn  only  by  sacri- 
ficing the  front  row  of  houses  to  form  a  temporary  embankment, 
and  it  was  only  by  the  wisely  conducted  energy  of  iU  inhabit- 
ants that  Ostiglia  was  kept  from  destniction.  During  April 
and  May  1879  the  rainfall  w.as  exceptionally  heavy,  the  quan- 
tity for  May  alone  being  equal  to  more  than  a  third  of  Ihft  an- 
nual total.  The  result  was  a  rise  in  all  the  tributaries  of  the  Po, 
and  on  May  30  the  flood  in  the  main  river  was  21  feet  above  low 
water  at  Mezzana  Corta.'  A  breach  720  feet  long  in  the  enihank- 
ment  between  Boiiizzo  and  Borgofianco  caused  the  siibnn'igeiicc  of 
155  square  miles  in  the  provinces  of  Mantua,  Medina,  and  I'errara, 
and  involved  in  its  repair  a  national  expenditure  of  £53,400. 

Of  tlie  £5,902,981  devoted  by  the  Government  to  the  regulation 
of  the  rivers  of  Italy  in  the  twenty  years  1S61-18S0,  £2,257,872 
had  to  be  appropriated  to  the  Po  and  its  tributaries.  Nowhere  in 
Knropo  except  in  Holland  lias  the  Mstcm  of  embankment  been 
carried  to  such  perfection  on  so  extensive  a  sc.ile.  A  wide  bed  for 
the  river  at  its  height  is  enclosed  for  long  distances  by  a  massive 
mnstcr-dykc  OT/rol<to,  and  in  the  space  between  this  and  the  onli- 
nary  channels  suitable  areas  arc  often  enclosed  by  sccondnry  dykes 
or  ciiitcnc.  The  following  figures  show  the  extent  of  the  Byslcui  iu 
1880 ;— 


252 


P  O  C  —  P  O  (J 


Length  of 
Embankment. 

Froldo. 

Golena. 

Fo             

Miles. 
509-97 
166-12 
148-30 
146-72 
100-34 

89-75 

Miles. 
71-93 
109-81 
^5-62 
33-68 
48-26 
28-21 

Miles. 

438-03 

46-30 

,112-68 

113-04 

62-07 

61-54 

.ifli^e    

Tartaro  and  Po  di  Levante 

Panaro , 

Secchia 

Recent  researches  (see  Helbig,  Die  Italiker  in  der  Po-Ebene, 
Leipsic,  1879)  show  that  the  lower  valley  of  the  Po  was  at  an  early 
period  occupied  by  people  of  the  Palaeolithic  and  Neolithic  stages 
of  civilization,  who  built  houses  on  piles  along  the  swampy  borders 
of  the  streams.  It  is  possible-  that  even  they  may  have  begun  by 
crude  dykes  the  great  system  by  which  the  waters  are  now"  con- 
trolled ;  at  least  it  is  certain  that  these  works  date  their  origin  from 
pre-Roman  antiquity.  Pliny  refers  them  to  the  Etruscans,  who 
occupied  the  country  before  the  arrival  of  the  Gauls.  The  reclaim- 
ing and  protecting  of  the  riparian  lands  went  on  rapidly  under 
the  Romans,  and  in  several  places  the  rectangular  divisions  of  the 
ground,  still  remarkably  distinct,  show  the  military  character  of 
some  of  the  agricultural  colonies.  During  the  time  of  the  barba- 
rian invasions  much  of  the  protective  system  was  allowed  to  fnll 
into  decay;  but  the  later  part  of  the  Middle  Ages  saw  the  works 
resumed  and  carried  out  with  great  energy,  so  that  the  main  features 
of  the  present  arrangement  were  in  existence  by  the  close  of  the 
15th  century. 

The  usual  name  for  the  Po  among  Greek  and  Latin  authors  was 
Padus  (niSos) ;  but  the  Greek  writers  of  the  empire  began  to  apply 
to  it  the  poetic  name  of  Eridanus,  familiar  in  the  Phaethon  myth. 

POCHARD,  PocKARD,  or  Poker,i  namea  properly 
belonging  to  the  male  of  a  species  of  Duck  (the  female  of 
which  is  known  as  the  Dunbird),  the  Anas  ferina  of 
Linnieus,  and  Fuligula  or  ^thyia  ferina  of  later  ornitho- 
logists— rbut  names  very  often  applied  by  -writers  in  a 
general  way  to  most  of  the  group  or  Subfamily  Fuligulinx, 
commonly  called  Diving  or  Sea-Ducks  {cf.  Duck,  vii.  p. 
505).  The  Pochard  in  full  plumage  is  a  very  handsome 
bird,  with  a  coppery-red  head,  on  the  sides  of  which 
sparkle  the  ruby  irides  of  his  eyes,  relieved  by  the  greyish- 
blue  of  the  basal  half  of  his  broad  bill,  and  the  deep  black 
of  his  gorget,  while  his  back  and  flanks  appear  of  a  light 
grey,  being  really  of  a  dull  white  closely  barred  by  fine 
undulating  black  lines.  The  tail-coverts  both  above  and 
below  are  black,  the  quill  feathers  brownish-black,  and  the 
lower  surface  of  a  dull  white.  The  Dunbird  has  the  head 
and  neck  reddish-brown,  with  ill-defined  whitish  patches 
on  the  cheeks  and  chin,  the  back  and  upper  tail-coverts 
dull  brown,  and  the  rest  of  the  plumage,  except  the  lower 
tail-coverts,  which  are  brownish-grey,  much  as  in  the 
Pochard;  This  species  is  very  abundant  in  many  parts  of 
Europe,  northern  Asia,  and  North  America,  generally  fre- 
quenting in  winter  the  larger  open  waters,  and  e.xtending 
its  migrations  to  Barbary  and  Egypt,  but  in  summer 
retiring  northward  and  inland  to  breed,  and  is  one  that 
certainly  seems  to  have  profited  by  the  legislative  protec- 
tion lately  afforded  to  it  in  Britain,  for,  whereas  during 
many  years  it  had  but  a  single  habitual  breeding-place  left 
in  England,  it  is  now  known  to  hare  several,  to  some  of 
which  it  resorts  in  no  inconsiderable  numbers.  American 
examples  seem  to  be  slightly  larger  and  somewhat  darker 
in  colour,  and  hence  by  some  writers  have  been  regarded 
as  specifi<»Jly  distinct  under  the  name  of  Fuligula 
americana ;  but  America  has  a  perfectly  distinct  though 
allied  species  in  the  celebrated  Canvas-back  Duck,  F. 
vallisneriana,  a  much  larger  bird,  with  a  longer,  higher, 

*  The  derivation  of  these  words,  in  the  first  of  which  the  ch  is  pro- 
nounced hai-d,  and  the  o  in  all  of  them  generally  long,  is  very  uncer- 
tain. Cotgrave  has  Poeheculier^  which  he  renders  Shoueler,"  now- 
a-days  the  name  of  a  kind  of  Duck,  but  in  his  time  meaning  the  bird 
we  commonly  call  Spoonbill  (q.v:).  Littr^  gives  Pochard  as  a 
popular  French  word  signifying  dninkard.  That  this  word  would  in 
the  erdinary  way  become  the  English  Pochard  or  Poker  may  be  re- 
Rtr.led  as  certain  ;  but  then  it  is  not  known  to  be  vised  in  French  as  a 
bird's  name. 


ana  narrower  bill,  which  has  no  blue  at  the  base,  and, 
though  the  plumage  of  both,  especially  in  the  females,  is 
very  similar,  the  male  Canvas-back  has  a  darker  head,  and 
the  black  lines  on  the  back  and  flanks  are  much  broken 
up  and  further  asunder,  so  that  the  effect  is  to  give  these 
parts  a  much  lighter  colour,  and  from  this  has  arisen  the 
bird's  common  though  fanciful  name.  Its  scientific  epithet 
is  derived  from  the  freshwater  plant,  a  species  of  Vallit- 
neria,  usually  known  as  "  wild  celery,"  from  feeding  on 
which  its  flesh  is  believed  to  acquire  the  delicate  flavour 
that  is  held  in  so  great  a  repute.  The  Pochard  and 
Dunbird,  however,  in  Europe  are  in  much  request  for  the 
table  (as  the  German  name  of  the  species,  Tafelente,  testi- 
fies), though  their  quality  in  this  respect  depends  almost 
wholly  on  the  food  they  ha;ve  been  eating,  for  birds  killed 
on  the  searcoast  are  so  rank  as  to  be  almost  worthless, 
while  those  that  have  been  frequenting  fresh  wuXer  'are 
generally  well-tasted.^ 

Among  other  species  nearly  allied  to  the  Pochard  that  frequent 
the  northern  hemisphere  may  be  mentioned  the  Scaup  Duck-,  P. 
marila,  with  its  American  representative  F.  affinis,  in  both  of 
which  the  male  has  the  head  black,  glossed  with  blue  or  green  ;  but 
these  are  nearly  always  uneatable  from  the  nature  of  their  food, 
which  is  mostly  gathered  at  low  tide  on  the  "scaups"  or  "scalps,"* 
• — as  the  banks  on  which  mussels  and  other  marine  molluscs  grow 
are  in  many  places  termed.  Then  there  are  the  Tufted  Duck, 
F.  cristata — black  with  a  crest  and  white  flanks — and  its  American 
equivalent  F.  collaris,  and  the  White-eyed  or  Castaneous  Duck,  F. 
nyroca,  and  the  Red-crested  Duck,  F.  rufina—hotXi  peculiar  to 
the  Old  World,  and  the  last,  conspicuous  for  its  red  bill  and  legs, 
well  known  in  India.  In  the  southern  hemisphere  the  genus  is 
represented  by  three  species,  F.  capensis.  F.  anstralis,  and  F. 
novse-zealandue,  whose  respective  names  indicate  the  counti-y  each 
inhabits,  and  in  South  America  exists  a  somewhat  divergent  form 
which  has  been  placed  in  a  distinct  genus  as  Metopiana  peposaca. 

Generally  classed  with  the  Fuligiilinee  is  the  small  group  known 
as  the  Eiders,*  which  ditfer  from  them  in  several  respects  :  the  bulb 
at  the  base  of  the  trachea  in  the  male,  so  largely  developed  in  the 
members  of  the  genus  Fuligula,  and  of  conformation  so  similar  in 
all  of  them,  is  here  much  smaller  and  wholly  of  bone  ;  the  males 
take  a  much  longer  time,  two  or  even  three  years,  to  attain  theif 
full  plumage,  and  some  of  the  feathers  on  the  head,  when  that 
plumage  is  completed,  are  always  stiff,  glistening,  and  of  a  peculiar 
pale-green  colour.  This  little  group  of  hardly  more  than  half  a 
dozen  species  may  be  fairly  considered  to  form  a  separate  genus 
uiidi-r  the  name  of  Somateria.  Many  authors  indeed  have— un- 
justifiably, as  it  seems  to  the  present  writer— broken  it  up  into  three 
or  four  genera.  The  well-known  Eider,  S.  mollissima,  is  the 
largest  of  this  group,  and,  beautiful  as  it  is,  is  excelled  in  beauty 
by  the  King-Duck,  S.  spectabilis,  and  the  little  S.  slclleri.  Space 
fails  here  to  treat  of  the  rest,  but  the  sad  fate  which  has  overtaken 
one  of  them,  S.  labradoria,  has  been  before  mentioned  (Birds,  vol. 
iii.  p.  736);  and  only  the  briefest  notice  can  bo  taken  of  a  most 
interesting  form  generally,  but  obviously  in  error,  placed  among 
them.  This  is  the  Logger-head,  Racehorse,  or  Steamer-Duck, 
Microptencs  (or  more  properly  Tachyercs)  cinereus  of  the  Falkland 
Islands  and  Straits  of  Magellan — nearly  as  large  as  a  tame  Goose, 
and  subject  to  the,  so  far  ns  known,  unique  peculiarity  of  losing  its 
power  of  flight  after  reaching  maturity.  Its  habits  have  been  well 
described  by  Darwin  in  his  Journal  of  Researches,  and  its  anatomy 
is  the  subject  of  an  excellent  paper  in  the  Zoological  Society's 
Transactions  (vii.,  pp.  493-501,  pis.  Iviii.-Ixii.)  by  Prof.  R.  0. 
Cunningham.  (A.  N.) 

POCOCK,  Ed-waed  (1604-1691),  one  of  the  most 
eminent  of  English  Oriental  and  Biblical  scholars,  was 
born  in  1604,  the  son  of  a  Berkshire  clergyman,  and  re- 
ceived his  education  up  to  his  fourteenth  year  at  the  free 
school  of  Tame  in  Oxfordshire  and  then  at  Oxford,  where 
he  became  scholar  of  Corpus  Christi  College  in  1620  and 
fellow  in  1628.  The  foundation  of  his  Eastern  learning 
was  laid  at  Oxford  under  Matthias  Pasor,  son  of  the  better 

'  The  plant  known  in  some  parts  of  England  as  "  willow.weed  " — 
not  to  be  confounded,  as  is  done  by  some  writers,  with  the  willow- 
wort  (Epilobium) — one  of  the  many  species  of  Polygonum,  is  especially 
a  favourite  food  with  most  kinds  of  Ducks,  and  to  its  effects  is  attri- 
buted much  of  th»  fine  flavour  which  distinguishes  the  birds  that  have 
had  access  to  it. 

Cognate  with  scallop,  and  the  Dutch  schelp,  a  shell. 

'  Icelandic,  jEdur. 


P  O  C  — P  0  D 


253 


known  George  Pasor,  who  had  been' driven  to  En^'land  by 
the  troubles  in  the  Palatinate,  and  he  subsequently  received 
instruction  from  the  learnod  W.  Bedwell.  The  first  fruit  of 
his  studies  was  an  edition  from  a  Bodleian  MS.  of  the  four 
New  Testament  epistles  which  were  not  in  the  old  Syriac 
canon,  and  were  not  contained  in  European  editions  of  the 
Pesliito.  This  was  published  at  Leyden  at  the  instigation 
of  G.  Vossius  in  1630,  and  in  the  same  year  Pocock  sailed 
for  Aleppo  as  chaplain  to  the  English  factory.  •  At  Aleppo 
he  made  himself  a  profound  Arabic  scholar  and  collected 
many  valuable  MSS.  At  this  time  Laud  was  busy  with 
the  learned  collections  with  which  he  afterwards  enriched 
his  university,  and  Pocock  became  known  to  him  as  one 
who  could  help  his  schemes.  ,A  correspondence  ensued, 
and  ultimately  Laud  resolved  to  set  up  an  Arabic  chair  at 
Oxford  and  to  invite  Pocock  home  to  fill  it.  The  invita- 
tion was  accepted,  and  the  lecturer  entered  on  his  duties 
on  August  10,  1036,  but  next  summer  sailed  again  for 
Constantinople  with  the  archbishop's  consent  to  prosecute 
further  studies  and  collect  more  books,  and  remained  there 
for  about  three  years.  When  he  returned  to  England 
Laud  was  in  the  Tower  ;  and,  tliough  he  had  taken  the 
precaution  to  place  the  Arabic  chair  on  a  permanent  foot- 
ing, a  time  soon  followed  in  which  to  have  been  a  protege 
of  the  archbishop  was  a  dangerous  distinction.  Pocock 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  an  extreme  churchman  or  to 
have  meddled  actively  in  polities,  but  his  views  were 
decided  enough  to  make  him  objectionable  to  the  Parlia- 
mentary party,  and  to  bring  on  him  many  troubles  nol^ 
only  at  Oxford  but  in  his  parish  of  Childrey,  where  he 
accepted  a  college  living  in  1643,  On  the  other  hand  his 
rare  scholarship  and  personal  qualities  raised  him  up 
inftuential  friends  even  among  men  of  the  opposite  party 
in  church  and  state,  foremost  among  these  being  Seldeu. 
Through  the  offices  of  these  friends  he  was  even  advanced 
in  1648  to  the  chair  of  Hebrew,  though  as  he  could  not 
take  the  engagement  of  1649  he  lost  the  emoluments  of 
Jhe  place  very  soon  after,  and  did  not  recover  them  till  the 
Restoration.  All  these  cares  seriously  hampered  Pocock 
in  his  studies,  as  he  complains  in  the  preface  to  his 
Eutychius ;  he  seems  to  have  felt  most  deeply  the  attempts 
to  remove-  him  from  Childrey,  where  he  attended  to  his 
parochial  work  with  the  same  modest  and  diligent  zeal 
that  marks  him  as  a  scholar.  But  he  continued  to  work 
hard  ;  in  1^49  ho  published  the  Specimen  llislorins  Arahum, 
that  is,  a  short  account  of  the  origin  and  manners  of  the 
Arabs,  taken  from  Barhebraius  (Abulfaraj),  with  a  mass  of 
learned  notes  from  a  vast  number  of  MS.  sources  which 
are  still  highly  valuable  to  the  student  of  Oriental  history. 
This  was  followed  in  1055  by  the  Porta  Mosis,  extracts 
from  the  Arabic  commentary  of  Maimonides  on  the 
Mishna,  with  translation  and  very  learned  notes  ;  ^  and  in 
1656  by  Uio  annals  of  Eutychius  in  Arabic  and  Latin,  a 
work  of  great  value  which  has  not  found  an  editor  since. 
He  also  gave  active  assistance  to  Walton's  polyglott,  and 
the  preface  to  the  various  readings  of  tho  Arabic  Penta- 
teuch is  iium  his  hand.  After  tho  Restoration  Pocpck's 
political  and  pecuniary  troubles  were  removed,  but  tho , 
reception  of  his  complete  edition  of  the  Arabic  history  of 
Barhobrajus  (Greg.  Abidfaragii  Jlittoria  Dynastiarum), 
which  he  dedicated  to  the  king  in  1063,  showed  that  tho 
pew  order  of  things  was  not  very  favourable  to  profound 
scholarship.  After  this  his  most  important  works  wOro 
his  English  commentaries  on  Micali  (1677),  Malachi' 
(1677),  Hosea  (1685),  Joel  (1691),— admirable  in  every 
way,'  and  still  thoroughly  worth  reading.  An  Arabic 
translation  of  Grotius  De  Veritate  which  af)peared  in  1660 
may  also  be  mentioned  as  a  proof  of  Pocock's  interest  in 

*  Pocock  was  justly  iinprcsRcd  with  the  fart  thnt  the  best  parts  of 
R-tbhinic  literature  belODg  to  the  Jewa  who  wrote  iu  Arabic. 


the  propagation  of  Christianity  in  the  East.  This  was  an 
old  plan  which  he  had  talked  over  with  Grotius  at  Paris 
on  his  way  back  from  Constantinople 

Pocock  married  in  1646  and  died  in  1691.^  Oue  of  his 
sons,  Edward,  published  several  contributions  to  Arabic 
literature — a  fragment  of  Abdullatif's  description  of  Egypt 
and  the  Philosophus  Avtodidadus  of  Ibn  Tofail. 

The  theological  works  of  Pocock  were  collecteil  in  2  vols,  folio, 
in  1740,  with  a  tedious  but  curious  account  of  his  life  and  writings 
by  L.  Twells. 

POCOCKE,  Richard  (1704-1765),  distantly  related 
to  the  preceding,  was  the  son  of  Richard  Pococke,  head 
master  of  the  free  school  at  Southampton,  where  he  was 
born  in  the  year  1704.  He  received  his  school  learn- 
ing under  his  father,  and  his  academical  education  at 
Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford,  whore  he  took  his  various 
degrees.  He  commenced  his  travels  in  the  East  in  1737, 
and  returned  in  1742.  In  1743  he  published  his  Observa- 
tions on  Egypt,  under  the  general  title  of  A  Description  oj 
the  East  and  some  other  Countries.  In  1744  he  was  made 
precentor  of  Waterford ;  and  in  1745  ho  printed  the 
second  volume  of  his  travels,  under  the  title  of  Observa- 
tions on  'Palestine,  or  the  Holy  Land,  Syria,  Mesopotamia, 
Cyprus,  and  Candia.  In  1756  Pococke  was  promoted  to 
the  bishopric  of  Ossory;  in  July  1765  he  was  translated 
to  the  see  of  Meath,  and  in  September  following  he  died 
suddenly  of  apople.xy,  whilst  engaged  in  visiting  his 
diocese. 

PODIEBRAD,  George  of  (1420-1471),^  king  of 
Bohemia,  was  the  son  of  Herant  of  Podiebrad,  a  Bohemian 
nobleman,  and  was  born  6th  April  1420  After  the  death 
of  the  emperor  Sigismund  he  took  up  arms  against  Albert 
of  Austria,  who  was  finally  compelled  to  raise  the  siege  of 
Tabor  and  retreat  to  Prague.  On  the  death  of  Patzek  in 
1444  George  of  Podiebrad  became  the  recognized  head  of 
the  Calixtines  or  Utraquists,  and  was  chosen  to  represent 
them  as  one  of  the  two  governors  of  Bohemia  during  tho 
minority  of  Ladislaus  the  son  of  Albert.  After  some  years 
of  conflict  with  the  Catholic  party  he  was  in  1451  recog- 
nized as  sole  governor.  Following  a  policy  of  conciliation, 
ho  made  no  opposition  to  tho  accession  of  Ladislaus  in 
1453,  who  repeated  to  the  Bohemians  the  promises  mado 
by  Sigismund.  The  Catholic  predilections  of  Ladist^ua 
rendered  him  in  a  great  measure  blind  to  the  obligations 
into  which  he  had  entered,  but  the  result  was  silently  to 
strengthen  the  influence  of  George  of  Podiebrad,  who  on  the 
death  of  Ladislaus  in  1457  was  chosen  king  of  Bohciniii 
(March  1458),  and  on  May  7,  1459,  was  crowned  by 
Catholic  bishops,  promising  on  his  part  due  obedience  to 
tho  church.  This  effort  at  a  reconciliation  was,  however, 
soon  seen  to  be  futile.  In  1462  Popo  Pius  II.  refused  thq 
ratification  of  tho  compactata,  agreed  upon  in  1433,  and 
still  no  basis  of  a  settlement  had  been  found  when  Pim 
died  in  November  1464.  Tho  new  pope,  Paul  II.,  at  onc« 
brought  matters  to  a-  crisis  by  issuing  against  Georgo  cH 
Bohemia  the  ban  of  excommunication,  and  a»  summons  foi 
a  crusade  to  crush  his  authority.  To  this  CJcorge  replied 
by  a  letter  of  grievances  to  kings  and  prince.s,  and  an 
appeal  to  a  general  council.  The  summons  af.  Paul  II. 
did  not  awaken  any  general  response,  and,  although 
Matthias  of  Hungary  was  proclaimed  king  of  Tiulicmia, 
Georgo  successfully  resisted  all  attempts  to  wrest  from 
him  his  dominion,  and  in  July  1470  Matthias  agreed  Ip 
an  armistice.  Georgo  dit'd  March  22,  1171,  and  was  sue- 
ccedad  by  Ladislaus,  eldest  son  of  Casiinir  IV 

See  Markpraf,  Utberd  at  fcrhHHnisi  (Us  Klini'jf  dtnrij  I'lU 
Jiiihmni  :n  Papst  Pius//.,  1867;  Uiclitcr,  Ocnrij  von  rodxrliriutt 
/Ic^trdnin'jrn,  1863;  Jordan,  Dns  KOniijIhum  fJeor'js  xnn  /'oJiehruJ, 
1867;  liachmann,  Ein  Jnhr  Mnnisc/icr  C'cschiclite,  1876. 

PODOLIA,  a  government  of  south-western  Russin, 
having  Volhynia  on  the  N,,  Kicff  and  Khcraon  on  the  L. 


254 


P  0  D  — P  0  D 


and  S.,  Bessarabia  on  the  S.W.,  and  Galicia  (Austria)  on 
the  W;,  from  which  last  it  is  separated  by  the  Zbrutch,  or 
Rodvotcha,  a  tributary  of  the- Dniester.  It  has  an  area 
of  16,223  r  ]uare  miles,  extending  for  200  miles  from  north- 
west to  south-east  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Dniester.  In 
the  same  direction  two  ranges  of  hills,  nearly  parallel,  and 
separated  by  the  Bug,  traverse  the  government ;  they  are 
ramifications  of  the  so-called  "Avratynsk  heights."  One 
of  these  ranges  runs  parallel  to  the  Dniester  at  a  distance  of 
some  40  miles,  and  reaches  a  ma.ximum  elevation  of  1185 
feet  in  the  northern  districts,  sending  a  lateral  branch  to  the 
Dniester  at  Kamenets.  The  other  range,  entering  also  from 
the  north-west,-  follows  the  boundaries  of  the  government 
of  KiefE  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Bug;  its  highest  eminences 
do  not  exceed  1050  feet.  The  geological  structure  of  Podolia 
is  in  accordance  with  the  above-mentioned  orographical 
features ;  a  strip  of  land  to  the  east  of  the  Bug  belongs  to 
the  Huronian  granitic  region  of  the  Dnieper,  granites  and 
aplites  (granulites)  appearing  also  in  the  bed  of  the  Bug, 
and  being  covered  with  Quaternary  deposits  only,  while 
the  remainder  of  the  province,  towards  the  west,  is  covered 
with  Tertiary  (Miocene).v  In  the  deep  valleys  of  the  rivers, 
older  formations — the  Cretaceous  and  Silurian,  as  also 
sometimes  the  granites — appear  from  beneath  the  Tertiary. 
The  whole  is  covered  with  a  boulder-clay,  mostly  contain- 
ing d(5bris  of  the  local  rocks,  and  with  loess,  the  origin  of 
both  still  being  a  subject  of  controversy  among  Russian 
geologists.  Two  large  rivers,  with  numerous  tributaries, 
water  the  government, — the  Dniester,  which  forms  its 
boundary  with  Bessarabia  and  is  navigable  throughout  its 
length,  and  the  Bug,  which  flows  almost  parallel  to  the 
former  in  a '  higher,  sometimes  swampy  valley,  and  is 
broken  at  several  places  by  strong  rapids.  The  Dniester 
is  an  important  channel  for  trade,  no  less  than  30,000  tons 
of  corn,  spirits,  and  timber  being  exported  every  year  from 
its  eighteen  ports,  the  chief  of  which  are  Moghileflf,  Kalus, 
Zhvanets,  and  Porog.  The  rapid  smaller  tribiitaries  of  the 
Dniester  supply  numerous  flour-mills  -with  motive  power. 
The  soil  is  almost  throughout  "black-earth,"  and  Podolia 
is  one  of  the  most  fertile  provinces  of  Russia.  Forests 
cover  about  245,000  acres.  Marshes  occur  only  on  the 
Bug.  The  climate  is  moderate,  the  average  temperature 
of  the  year  at  Kamenets  being  48°-3  (24°'5  in  January, 
69°  in  July). 

The  population,  -n-htch  -was  2,242,650  in  1831,  and  is  no-w 
;stimated  at  2,335,000,  consists  chiefly  of  Little  Russians,  Poles 
'.about  12  per  ceut.),  and  Jews  (about  13  per  cent.),  of  whom 
some  9000  are  agriculturists.  There  are  besides  about  300 
Armenians,  some  2500  Germans,  and  nearly  45,000  Moldavians. 
There  are  many  Nonconformists  among  flie  Russians,  Tultchin 
being  the  seat  of  their  bishops  and  a  centre  of  propaganda.  The 
chief  occupation  is  agriculture,  56  per  cent,  of  the  surface  being 
under  crops,  and  the  average  harvests  of  recent  years  reaching 
8,382,000  qrs.  of  corn  and  453,000  qrs.  of  potatoes.  The  chief 
crops  are  wheat,  Indian  corn,  oats,  rye,  potatoes,  and  beetroot. 
No  less  than  2,600,000  qrs.  of  corn  are  exported  every  year  to 
Austria  or  to  Odessa.  Gardening  is  in  a  flourishing  condition,  and 
fruit  is  largely  exported  to  the  interior ;  the  vine  is  cultivated, 
mostly  for  grapes,  but  partly  also  for  wine  ;  the  culture  of  tobacco 
is  a  considerable  source  of  Income.  Cattle-breeding  is  less  de- 
veloped, owing  to  a  want  of  grazing  grounds  and  meadows.  Horned 
cattle — a  mixture  of  the  Hungarian  and  Bessarabian  breeds— are, 
however,  exported  to  Moscow  and  to  Austria.  Finer  breeds  of 
sheep  are  raised  in  the  proportion  of  two-fifths  of  the  whole  number. 
In  1881  Podolia  had  169,000  horses,'432,000  horned  cattle,  513,000 
sheep,  and  307,000  swine.  Bees  are  kept  throughout  the  territory, 
and  honey  is  exported.  Sericulture  has  developed  considerably  of 
late  years,  and  will  probably  take  an  important  position,  owing  to 
the  climate.  Agriculture  and  cattle-breeding  are  on  the  whole 
declining.  Lately  manufactures  have  grown  rapidly.  la  1865 
they  already  employed  14,450  hands,  but  produced  only  to  the  value 
of  6,334,000  roubles.  Fourteen  years  later  they  employed  more 
than  20,000  hands,  and  their  yearly  production  was  valued  at 
29,411,000  roubles.  The  first  "place  is  taken  by  beetroot  sugar 
works  (15,800  hands;  £1,03S,000\  after  which  come  distilleries 
(Xl,372,000),   eugar  refineries  (£287.100),  flour-mills   Oei34,600J, 


tobacco  manufacture  (£32,200),  the  woollen  cloth  industry,  and 
several  smaller  manufactures  (spirits,  leather,  soap,  candles,  ma- 
chinery, and  agricultural  implements).  An  active  trade  is  carried 
on  -n-ith  Austria,  especially  through  the  Isakovets  and  Gusyatin 
.custom-houses, — corn,  cattle,  horses,  skins,  wool,  linseed,  and 
hemp  seed  being  exported,  in  exchange  for  wooden  w-ares,  linen, 
woollen  stuffs,  cotton,  glass,  and  agricultural  implements.  The 
trade  with  the  interior  is  also  carried  ou  very  briskly,  especially 
at  the  twenty-six  fairs,  the  aggregate  returns  of  -nhich  exceed 
3,000,000  roubles ;  the  chief  are  at  Balta  and  Yarmolintsy. 
Podolia  is  travei-sed  by  a  railway  which  runs  parallel  to  the 
Dniester,  from  Lemberg  to  Odessa,  and  has  two  branch  lines  to 
Kietf  (from  Zhmerinka.)  and  to  Poltava  (from  Balta).  Primary 
schools  are  better  than  in  many  central  provinces  of  Russia,  and 
Kamenets-Podolsk  has  of  late  years  begun  to  show  some  develop- 
ment of  intellectual  life.  The  publications  of  the  provincial 
assembly  and  the  memoirs  of  the  historical  and  statistical  com- 
mittee of  the  government  are  especially  w-orthy  of  notice.  Podolia 
is  divided  into  twelve  districts,  the  chief  towns  of  which  are — 
Kamenets-P'  dolsk,  capital  of  the  government  (22,650),  Balta 
(22,450),  Bratslaff  (5550),  Gaysin  (9450),  Letitcheff  (4800),  Litin 
(7100),  Moghileff-on-Dniester  (18,150),  Novava  Ushitsa  (4500), 
Olgopol  (6950),  Proskurofl'  (11,750),  Vinnitsa  (18,800),  and  Yampol 
(4300).  The  following  towns  have  municipal  institutions: — Bar 
(7800),  Khmelnik  (7800),  Nemirofi'  (6450,  has  a  lyceum),  Salnitsa 
(3300),  Staraya  Ushitsa  (3700),  Verbovets  (2150),  and  Tultchin 
(11,220),  besides  Toajiy  niyestetchH,  having  Polish  municipal  insti- 
tutions. 

ffistory. — The  country  has  been  inhabited  since  the  beginning 
of  the  Neolithic  period.  In  the  5th  century  B.C.  it  was  already 
known  to  geographers,  and  Herodotus  mentions  it  as  the  seat  of 
the  Alazones  and  Neuri,  w-ho  were  foUow-ed  by  the  Dacians  and 
Getse.  The  Romans  left  traces  of  their  rule  in  the  Wall  of  Trajan, 
which  stretches  through  the  modern  districts  of  Kamenets,  Ushitsa, 
and  ProskurofT.  Many  nationalities  passed  through  this  territory, 
or  settled  within  it  for  some  time,  during  the  great  migrations, 
leaving  traces  in  numerous  archaeological  remains.  The  aunals  of 
Nestor  mention  that  the  Slavonians,  Bujanes,  and  Dulebes  occu- 

Sicd  the  Bug,  while  the  Tivei-tsi  and  Uglitches  were  settled  ou  the 
'niester.  They  wore  conquered  by  the  Avars  iu  the  7th  cen- 
tury. Oleg  extended  his  rule  over  this  territory — the  Ponizie, 
or  lowland,  which  became  later  a  part  of  the  principalities  of 
Volhynia,  liiefT,  and  Galicia.  In  the  13th  century  the  Ponizio 
was  plundered  by  the  Mongols ;  a  hundred  years  afterw-ards 
Olgerd  freed  it  from  this  rule,  annexing  it  to  Lithuania  imder 
the  name  of  Podolia,  a  word  which  has  the  same  meaning  as 
Ponizie.  After  the  death  of  AVitowt  Podolia  was  annexed  t* 
Poland,  w-ith  the  exception  of  its  eastern  part — the  province  of 
Bratslaff — which  remained  under  Lithuania  until  its  union  with 
Poland.  The  Poles  retained  Podolia  until  the  third  division  of 
Poland  in  1793,  when  it  was  taken  by  Russia,  which  instituted  the 
present  government  of  Podolia  in  1796. 

PODOLSK,  a  district-town  of  Russia,  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Moscow,  is  situated  23  miles  to  the  south  of  the 
capital,  at  the  junction  of  the  two  main  roads  going  from 
Moscow  to  the  Crimea  and  to  Warsaw,  and  within  a  mile 
from  the  Podolsk  railway  station.  It  is  picturesquely  built 
on  the  hUly  banks  of  the  Pakhra,  here  crossed  by  an  elegant 
suspension  bridge  for  carriages  as  well  as  by  the  railway 
bridge.  Down  to  1781,  when  it  became  a  district  town, 
the  wealthy  village  of  Podol  was  a  dependency  of  the 
Danilofi  monastery  of  Moscow,  and  it  still  maintains  many 
of  the  features  of  a  suburb  of  that  city.  The  numberless 
caravans  of  cars  and  sledges  which  before  the  opening  of 
the  southern  railway  carried  on  the  entire  transport  of 
merchandise  to  and  from  Moscow  (as  they  still  to  some 
extent  continue  to  do)  had  their  chief  halting  place  at 
Podolsk  before  setting  out  on  a  long  journey,  or  before 
entering  the  capital ;  the  principal  occupation  of  the 
inhabitants  was  accordingly  to  keep  inns  and  taverns,  and 
to  supply  the  caravans  with  provisions  and  other  neces- 
saries of  travel.  The  merchants  of  Podolsk  prefer  to  carry 
on  their  trade  at  Moscow,  and  in  itself  the  town  has  no 
commercial  importance.  Still,  notwithstanding  the  recent 
modifications  in  traffic  produced  by  the  railway  system, 
the  population  of  Podolsk  (11,000  in  1881)  is  increa.sing. 
The  limestone  quarries  in  the  neighbourhood,  at  the  con- 
fluence of  the  Desna  and  Pakhra,  supply  the  capital  with 
a  good  building  material,  -while  a  steam  factory  of  cement' 
lime,  and  bricks  employs  900  hands  and  has  an  annual 


P  O  D  —  F  0  E 


255 


production   of  about   £20,000.      A   paper-mill   close   to 
Podolsk  has  an  annual  production  of  about  i"! 5,000. 

PODOPHYLLIN,  a  popular  remedy  which  is  much 
used  by  those  who  are  averse  to  the  employment  of 
calomel  and  other  mercurial  preparations,  and  hence  has 
been  called  vegetable  mercury.  The  drug,  as  used  in 
medicine,  is  obtained  from  the  rhizome  of  the  American 
mandrake  or  May  apple.  Podophyllum  jHllalum,  L.,  an 
herbaceous  perennial  belonging  to  the  natural  order  Ber- 
beridacese,  indigenous  in  woods  in  Canada  and  the  United 
States.  The  plant  is  about  a  foot  high,  bearing  two  pel- 
tate, deeply-divided  leaves,  which  are  about  5  inches  in 
diameter,  and  bear  in  the  axil  a  solitary,  stalked,  white 
Hower  about  the  size  and  shape  of  the  garden  anemone, 
with  six  or  more  petals  and  twice  as  many  hypogynous 
stamens.  The  fruit  is  ripe  in  May,  and  is  an  ovaJ,  yellow- 
ish, fleshy  berry  containing  twelve  or  more  arillate  seeds. 
The  rhizome,  as  met  with  in  commerce,  occurs  in  cylin- 
drical pieces  two  or  three  inches  long  and  about  \  inch 
in  diameter,  of  a  chocolate  or  purplish  brown  colour, 
smooth  and  slightly  enlarged  where  the  juncture  of  the 
leafy  stem  is  indicated  by  a  circular  scar  on  the  upper 
and  a  few  broken  rootlets  on  the  under  side.  The  odour 
is  heavy  and  disagreeable,  and  the  taste  acrid  and  bitter. 

Podophyllin  .is  a  resinous  powder  obtained  by  precipitating  an 
alcoholic  tincture  of  the  rhizome  by  means  of  water  acidulated  with 
hydrochloric  acid.  It  varies  in  colour  from  greyish  to  bright  yel- 
low or  greenish  brown,  the  first-named  being  the  purest.  The 
drug  has  been  the  subject  of  numerous  chemical  investigations,  the 
most  recent  of  which  (Podwyssotzki,  iii  Zlschr.  /.  Eussland,  xx.  777) 
indicates  that  its  activity  is  due  to  a  definite  resinous  compound 
which  has  been  named  by  its  discoverer  podophyllotoxin  ;  another 
constituent  named  podophylloqucrcctin  has  neither  emetic  nor 
purgative  properties,  but  appears  to  1,  '.  d  cause  of  the  griping  pains 
which  sometimes  accompany  the  action  of  podophyllin  ;  a  third 
substance,  podophyllic  acid,  has  no  medicinal  action.  Fodophyl- 
lotoxin  is  a  bitter  amorphous  principle  soluble  in  weak  alcohol  and 
in  hot  water,  ether,  and  chloroform,  but  insoluble  in  petroleum 
spirit.  It  is  split  up  by  the  action  of  alkalies  into  a  resin-acid 
named  picropodophyllic  acid,  which  is  inert,  and  a  very  active 
substance.  ]iicropodophylIin,  which  crystallizes  in  delicate  silky 
needles.  Picropodophyllin  is  in.soluble  in  water,  and  almost  in- 
soluble in  spirit  of  less  than  80  per  cent.,  but  is  rendered  soluble 
when  united  to  the  picropodophyllic  acid.  Podophylloqxurcelin  crys- 
tallizes in  short  needles  of  a  yellow  colour  and  metallic  lustre.  It 
is  soluble  in  ether  and  alcohol,  and  forms  a  compound  with  acetate 
of  lead  which  is  soluble  in  acetic  acid  and  can  bo  sublimed  in 
shining  yellow  crystals,  and  which  on  exposure  to  the  air  gradu- 
ally becomes  green.  Pixlophyllic  acid  is  insoluble  in  water  and  in 
«ther,  but  soluble  in  alcohol.  In  medicine  podophyllin  is  employed 
for  torpor  of  the  liver  and  obstinate  constipation,  arising  from 
sedentary  employment,  imprudence  in  diet,  and  irregularity  of 
habits.  In  small  doses  it  acts  as  a  slow  and  gentle  laxative, 
especially  if  combined  with  henbane  and  belladonna,  but  in  largo 
doses  it  is  an  irritant  hydragogue  cathartic,  the  action  of  which 
persists  for  some  time.  The  usual  dose  as  a  laxative  and  mild 
hepatic  stimulant  is  about  J  of  a  grain,  but  the  samples  met  with 
in  commerce  vary  considerably  in  strength,  and  act  with  varying 
effect  upon  different  individuals.  Specimens  having  agrecnish  tint 
should  bo  avoided,  since  they  probably  contain  podophyllo- 
quercetin  and  tend  to  cause  severe  griping.  In  largo  doses  it 
appeara  to  lose  its  stimulant  action  on  tiio  liver.  I'odoiibyllin  is 
official  in  the  pharmacopoeias  of  Great  Britain,  India,  Franco, 
Russia,  ai^d  the  united  States. 

POE,  Edgar  Allan  (1809-1849),  is  the  most  interest- 
ing figure  in  American  literature,  and  his  life  furnishes 
the  most  extraordinary  instance  on  record  of  By.steuiatic 
misrepresentation  on  the  part  of  a  biographer.  The 
greater  part  of  his  short  working  life  was  passed  in  intense 
and  unremitting  literary  toil,  and  no  poems  or  romances 
were  ever  produced  at  greater  expense  of  brain  and  spirit 
than  his.  Yet,  till  lately,  when  Mr  J.  II.  Ingram,  the 
careful  editor  of  Poe's  works,  undertook  to  collect  the  jilain 
facts  of  the  poet's  life,  the  current  statement  and  belief 
were  that  his  strange  tales  and  poems  were  flung  off  from 
a  distempered  imagination  in  the  intervals  of  degraded 
•debauchery.     This  m^th  was  studiously  floated  by  his  first 


biographer,  Griswold,  and  found  readier  acceptance  with 
the  public  owing  to  the  weird  and  horrible  character  of 
much  of  his  imaginative  work.  Griswold's  story  of  a  life 
wayward  and  irregular  from  hapless  beginning  to  disgrace- 
ful close  was  just  what  people  were  prepared  to  believe 
about  a  genius  so  eccentric  and  with  such  a  turn  for  dark 
mysteries,  horrible  crimes,  inhuman  doings  and  sufferings. 
That  the  author  of  such  works  should  have  been  expelled 
from  the  university  and  from  the  army,  and  from  situation 
after  situation  when  he  tried  to  make  a  living  by  litera- 
ture, all  owing  to  the  gross  irregularity  of  his  habits,  and 
should  finally  have  died  in  a  hospital  in  a  fit  of  intoxi- 
cation, seemed  credible  enough  when  affirmed  by  a  self- 
constituted  biographer.  JIany  of  Griswold's  allegations 
were  denied  at  the  time,  but  the  denials  were  local  and 
isolated,  and  the  truth  had  no  chance  against  the  system- 
atic libel,  repeated  as  it  was  in  many  editions,  till  Mr 
Ingram  prepared  a  regular  and  authoritative  memoir.* 

There  was  a  sufTicient  mixture  of  truth  with  falsehood 
to  make  Griswold's  story  plausible.  It  was  not  quite 
correct  to  describe  Foe  as  the  son  of  strolling  players,  but 
his  father,  a  man  of  good  family,  had  married  an  actress 
and  taken  to  -the  stage  as  a  profession.  Their  son  was 
born  in  Baltimore,  February  19,  1809  ;  and  father  and 
mother  died  in  1811  when  he  was  a  child.  The  orphan 
was  adopted  by  his  godfather,  Mr  Allan,  a  wealthy  mer- 
chant, and  from  his  eighth  till  his  thirteenth  j'ear  (1816- 
1821)  was  placed  at  school  in  England.  Thence  he  was 
transferred  to  an  academy  at  Richmond,  Virginia,  and 
thence  at  the  age  of  seventeen  to  the  university  of  Virginia 
at  Charlottesville.  Mr  Allan  was  childless,  and  apparently 
treated  his  adopted  son  as  his  own  child.  Why  Poe  left 
the  university  after  one  session  is  not  clearly  explained, 
but  it  has  been  ascertained  that  he  was  not  expelled,  but 
on  the  contrary  was  honourably  distinguished  as  a  student, 
although  it  is  admitted  that  he  had  contracted  debts  and 
had  "an  ungovernable  passion  for  card-playing."  These 
debts  may  have  been  sufficient  cause  for  a  quarrel  with 
Mr  AUan.  Poe  disappeared  for  two  years,  setting  oa.t  for 
Europe  to  join  the  Greeks  in  their  fight  for  independence. 
Reappearing  at  Richmond  in  1829,  he  stayed  at  home  for 
a  year,  and  then  was  entered  as  a  military  cadet  at  West 
Point.  But  all  his  ambitions  by  this  time  were  towards 
literature  ,  he  neglected  his  duties,  disobeyed  orders,  and 
was  dismissed  from  the  service  of  the  United  States. 
What  he  did  for  two  years  after  is  not  ascertained,  but  in 
1833  he  rcai)peared  as  the  successful  competitor  for  a 
prize  offered  by  a  Baltimore  newspaper  for  a  jjrose  story. 
From  that  time  ho  sub.'isted  by  literature.  Mr  Allan  had 
married  again,  and  died  soon  afterwards,  leaving  an  heir 
by  his  second  wife,  and  "not  a  mill,"  as  Griswold  puts  it. 
to  Poo. 

It  is  chiefly  in  his  account  of  Poe's  literary  career  that 
Griswold  has  been  guilty  of  slandering  the  subject  of  his 
biography,  representing  him  as  rendered  incapable  of 
permanent  employment  by  his  intemperate  liabits.  There 
would  seem  to  be  not  the  slightest  foundation  for  this 
coarse  slander.  During  tlie  fifteen  years  of  his  literary  life 
Poo  was  connected  with  various  ncw.spaiicra  and  magazines 
in  Richmond,  New  York,  and  Philadcliihia,  and  there  is 
unanimous  testimony  that^  so  far  from  being  nn  irregular 
contributor,  he  was  a  model  of  punctuality  and  thorough- 
ness, and  took  a  pride  in  these  homely  virtues.  His 
connexion  was  not  in  any  ono  case  "severed  by  his  irregu- 
larities." Ho  wrote  first  for  the  Sout/ifm  Literary  Met- 
senner  in  Richmond,  and  edited  it  for  some  time  ;  then,  in 
1837,  ho  removed  to  New  Y'ork,  and'wroto  criticisms  and 
did  editorial  work  for  the  New  York  Quarterly  Review : 

»  Soo  his  \YoTki  of  Edgar  AUan  Pee,  4  vols.,  1874-76. 


256 


r  0  E  — P  O  E 


then,  after  a  year,  with  a  prospect  of  more  lucrative 
©mploymeuc,  he  removed  to  Philadelphia,  and  for  four 
years  was  the  mainstay  of  Graham's  Magazine.  His 
literary  work  was  poorly  paid  for,  though  some  of  his  most 
powerful  tales — Hans  Pfaal,  Arthur  Gordon  Pym,  Ligeia, 
The  House  of  Usher,  The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue, 
Marie  Roget,  The  Descent  into  the  Maelstrom — were  among 
Poe's  contributions  to  these  periodicals.  Not  unnaturally 
he  conceived  the  idea  of  starting  a  magazine  of  his  own  as 
the  most  hopeful  way  of  living  by  his  work,  but  he  had 
no  capital,  and  was  obliged  to  abandon  the  project,  and 
return  to  New  York  and  miscellaneous  journalism.  To 
add  to  his  troubles  bis  wife,  a  cousin  of  his  own,  whom  he 
had  married  in  1836,  and  to  whom  he  was  passionately 
attached,  was  in  very  delicate  health,  and  during  a  linger- 
ing illness  of  eight  years  gave  him  constant  anxiety.  We 
have  only  to  look  at  the  character  of  Poe's  work,  and  the 
condition  of  such  literature  commercially,  to  see  why  it 
■was  that  the  most  popular  writer  of  his  generation  in 
America  had  to  struggle  so  hard  for  a  bare  subsistence. 
His  short  stories  were  an  easy  prey  for  the  newspaper 
pirate,  and  when  thousands  were  reading  them  the  author 
received  nothing  but  the  few  dollars  paid  him  by  the  pub- 
lication in  which  they  first  appeared.  The  Raven  was 
published  first  in  1845,  and  in  a  few  months  was  being 
read  and  recited  and  parodied  wherever  the  English 
language  was  spoken ;  but  the  half-starved  poet,  who  had 
to  live  by  his  genius,  received  only  two  pounds  for  the 
production.  And,  fertile  and  active  as  his  imagination 
was,  these  short  works  of  his,  which  served  for  the  pass- 
ing sensation  of  the  newspaper  reader,  were  far  from  being 
extempore  effusions.  His  Pkilosopht/.  of  Composition  is 
sometimes,  indeed  generally,  regarded  as  half-serious  half 
a  jest  in  the  author's  peculiar  way  of  mystification.  But 
to  any  one  who  examines  Poe's  work  closely  by  the  light 
of  this  essay  it  is  obvious  that  the  disclosure  of  his 
method  is  only  too  seriously  true.  It  would  have  been 
well  for  his  own  powers  of  endurance  if  he  had  composed 
on  a  less  exacting  and  exhausting  system.  The  most  fan- 
tastic of  Poe's  creations  are  not  the  product  of  the  imagina- 
tion abandoned  to  the  impulses  of  a  dominant  mood  ;  the 
effects  are  deliberately  calculated,  as  he  says  they  were, 
Btep  by  step  and  point  by  point  to  a  prearranged  culmina- 
tion. A  man  writing  on  such  a  system,  with  the  wolf  at 
the  door  and  affections  daily  on  the  rack,  could  hardly 
have  endured  the  strain  if  he  had  had  a  constitution  of 
iron.  It  was  no  wonder  that  Poe's  health  became  dis- 
tempered, or  that,  during  the  last  years  of  his  wife's  illness 
and  the  two  remaining  years  through  which  he  survived 
her,  he  had  recourse  to  the  dangerous  help  of  stimulants. 
Not  only  did  he  subject  his  imagination  to  exhaiftting  con- 
ditions, but  he  wasted  his  force  in  doing  with  superfluous 
thoroughness  what  a  ready  journalist  would  have  dismissed 
with  a  few  easy  sentences  of  commonplace.  When  we 
read  his  criticisms,  which  are  full  of  insight  and  sugges- 
tion, we  see  that  in  reviewing  a  book  or  a  poem  he  was 
never  satisfied  till  he  had  thought  out  what  could  be  done 


with  the  subject.  His  famous  feat  in  anticipating  the  plot 
of  Bamaby  Rudge  from  the  opening  chapters  was  only  a 
sample  of  the  thoroughness  with  which  he  threw  himself 
into  whatever  he  undertook.  Poe  failed  to  make  a  living 
by  literature,  not  because  he  was  an  irregular  profligate  in 
the  vulgar  sense,  but  because  he  did  ten  times  as  much 
work  as  he  was  paid  to  do — a  species  of  profligacy, 
perhaps,  but  not  quite  the  same  in  kind  as  that  with  which 
he  was  charged  by  his  malignant  biographer. 

The  current  story  about  his  breaking  off  his  engagement 
with  Mrs  Whitman  by  presenting  himself  at  her  house  iu 
a  state  of  violent  drunkenness  has  been  proved  to  be  a 
fabrication,  and  many  other  stories  about  him  have  been 
exploded  by  Mr  Ingram.  His  wife  died  in  1847,  and  he 
followed  her  in  1849,  dying  under  painful  circumstances 
at  Baltimore.  For  a  critical  estimate  of  Poe's  writings  the 
reader  may  be  referred  to  Professor  Nichol's  American, 
Literature.  There  are  few  English  writers  of  this  century 
whose  fame  is  likely  to  be  more  enduring.  The  feelings 
to  which  he  appeals  are  simple  but  universal,  and  he 
appeals  to  them  with  a  force  that  has  never  been  sur- 
passed, (w.  M.) 

POERIO,  Caelo  (1803-1867),  Italian  statesman,  bora 
in  1803,  was  descended  from  an  old  Calabrian  family  and 
was  the  son  of  Giuseppe  Poerio,  a  distinguished  lav/yer  of 
Naples.  In  1815  be  accompanied  his  father  into  political 
exile,  but,  a  pardon  having  been  obtained  in  1818,  he 
returned  to  Naples  where  he  afterwards  adopted  the  pro- 
fession of  advocate.  From  1837  to  1848  he  was  frequently 
arrested  and  imprisoned,  but,  when  Ferdinand,  moved  by 
the  demonstration  of  27th  January  of  the  latter  year, 
promulgated  a  constitution,  he  w-as  at  once  raised  to 
honour,  being  made  prefect  of  police  and  shortly  after- 
wards minister  of  public  instruction.  Discovering,  how- 
ever, that  the  king  was  only  temporizing,  he  resigned 
office  in  April  of  the  same  year  and  was  returned  for 
Naples  to  parliament,  where  he  led  the  constitutional 
opposition.  On  19th  July  1849  he  was  arrested,  and 
after  trial  on  the  charge  of  belonging  to  the  sect  dencK 
minated  the  "Italian  Unity,"  was  condemned  to  irons. 
Chained  in  pairs,  he  and  other  fifteen  political  prisoners 
were  confined  in  one  small  room  in  the  bagno  of  Nisida 
near  the  lazaretto.  The  eloquent  exposure  of  the  horrors 
of  the  Neapolitan  dungeons  by  Mr  Gladstone  in  1851, 
who  emphasized  especially  the  case  of  Poerio,  awakened 
the  universal  indignation  of  Europe,  but  he  did  not  obtain 
his  liberty  till  1858.  He  and  other  exiles  were  then 
placed  on  board  a  ship  bound  for  the  United  States,  but 
they  compelled  the  crew  to  land  them  at  Cork,  whence 
Poerio  made  his  way  to  London.  In  the  following  year 
he  returned  to  Italy,  and  in  1860  he  was  elected  deputy 
to  the  parliament  of  Turin,  of  which  he  was  chosen  vice-pre- 
sident in  1861.     He  died  at  Florence,  28th  April  1867. 

See  Baldachinni,  Delia  Vita  e  de'  Tempi  di  Carlo  Poeria,  1867; 
W.  E.  Gladstone,  Two  Letters  to  the  Earl  of  Aberdeen,  1851; 
Carlo  Poerio  and  the  Neapolitan  Police,  London,  1858;  CoUetta, 
History  of  Naples. 


POETRY 


IN  modern  criticism  the  word  poetry  is  used  sometimes  to 
denote  any  expression  (artistic.or  other)  of  imaginative 
feeling,  sometimes  to  designate  one  of  the  fine  arts. 

As  an  expression  of  imaginative  feeling,  as  the  -move- 
ment of  an  energy,  as  one  of  those  great  primal  human 
forces  which  go  to  the  development  of  the  race,  poetry  in 
the  wide  sense  has  played  as  important  a  part  as  science. 
In  some  literatures  (such  as  that  of  England)  poetic 
energy  and  in  others  (such  as  that  of  Rome)  poetic  art  is 


tne  dominant  quality.  It  is  the  same  with  individual 
writers.  In  classical  literature  Pindar  may  perhaps  be 
taken  as  a  type  of  the  poets  of  energy ;  Virgil  of  the  poets 
of  art.  With  all  his  wealth  of  poetic  art  Pindar's  mastery 
over  symmetrical  methods  never  taught  him  to  "  sow  with 
the  hand,"  as  Coriiina  declared,  while  his  poetic  energy 
always  impelled  him  to  "sow  with  the  whole  sack."  In 
English  poetical  literature  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning 
typifies,  perhaps,  the  poets  of  energy;  whQe  Keats  (not- 


P  C)  E  T  R  i^ 


257 


withstanding  all  his  unquestionable  inspiration)  is  mostly 
taken  as  a  type  of  the  poets  of  art.  In  French  literature 
Hugo,  notwithstanding  all  his  mastery  over  poetic  methods, 
represents  the  poets  of  energy. 

In  some  writers,  and  these  the  very  greatest — in  Homer, 
./Eschylus,  Sophocles,  Dante,  Shakespeare,  Jlilton,  and 
perhaps  Goethe — poetic  energy  and  poetic  art  are  seen  in 
something  like  equipoise.  It  is  of  poetry  as  an  art,  how- 
ever that  wo  have  mainly  to  speak  here ;  and  all  we  have 
to  say  upon  poetry  as  an  energy  is  that  the  critic  who,  like 
Aristotle,  takes  this  wide  view  of  poetry— the  critic  who, 
like  him,  recognizes  the  importance  of  poefjy  in  its  rela- 
tions to  man's  other  expressions  of  spiritual  force,  claims 
a  place  in  point  of  true  critical  sagacity  above  that  of  a 
critic  who,  like  Plato,  fails  to  recognize  that  importance. 
And  assuredly  no  philosophy  of  history  can  be  other  than 
inadequate  should  it  ignore  the  fact  that  poetry  has  had 
as  much  effect  upon  human  destiny  as  that  other  great 
human  energy  by  aid  of  which,  from  the  discovery  of  the 
use  of  fire  to  that  of  the  electric  light;  the  useful  arts  have 
been  developed. 

With  regard  to  poetry  as  an  art,  in  the  present  work 
most  of  the  great  poems  of  the  world  have  been  or  will  be 
examined  either  in  connerion  with  the  names  of  the 
writers  or  with  the  various  literatures  to  which  they 
belong ;  consequently  these  remarks  must  be  confined  to 
general  principles.  To  treat  historically  so  vast  a  subject 
&<<  poetry  would  be  obviously  impossible  here. 
Hvisions  AH  that  can  be  attempted  is  to  inquire  briefly — (1 )  What 
f  the  is  poetry  1  (2)  What  is  the  position  it  takes  up  in  relation 
object,  jg  jjjQ  otijer  arts  1  (3)  What  is  its  value  and  degree  of 
expressional  power  in  relation  to  these  1  and,  finally,  (4) 
What  varieties  of  poetic  art  are  the  outcome  of  the  two 
great  kinds  of  poetic  impulse,  dramatic  imagination  and 
lyric  or  egoistic  imagination  ? 
Thit  is  1.  What  is  Poetryl — Definitions  are  for  the  most  part 
**''?'  alike  unsatisfactory  and  treacherous;  but  definitions  of 
poetry  are  proverbially  so.  Is  it  possible  to  lay  down 
invariable  principles  of  poetry,  such  as  those  famous 
"invariable  principles"  of  the  Rev.  Mr  Bowles,' which  in 
the  earlier  part  of  the  century  awoke  the  admiration  of 
Southey  and  the  wrath  of  Byron  ?  Is  it  possible  for  a 
critic  to  say  of  any  metrical  phrase,  stanza,  or  verse, 
"This  is  poetry,"  or  "This  is  not  poetry"?  Can  he, 
with  anything  like  the  authority  with  which  the  man  of 
science  pronounces  upon  the  natural  objects  brought 
before  him,  pronounce  upon  the  qualities  of  a  poem? 
These  are  questions  that  have  engaged  the  attention  of 
critics  ever  since  the  time  of  Aristotle. 

Byron,  in  his  rough  and  ready  way,  has  answered  them 
in  one  of  those  letters  to  the  late  John  Murray,  which, 
rich  as  they  are  in  nonsense,  are  almost  as  rich  in  sense. 
"So  far  are  principles  of  poetry  from  being  invariable," 
says  he,  "  that  they  never  were  nor  ever  will  be  settled. 
These  principles  mean  nothing  more  than  the  predilec- 
tions of  a  particular  age,  and  every  ago  has  its  own  and  a 
different  from  its  predecessor.  It  is  now  Homer  and  now 
Virgil ;  once  Dryden  and  since  Sir  Walter  Scott ;  now 
Corneille  and  now  Racine ;  now  Cr6billon  and  now 
Voltaire."  This  is  putting  the  case  very  strongly — perhaps 
too  strongly.  But  if  wo  remember  that  Sophocles  lost  the 
first  prize  for  the  (Edipus  Tijrannus  ;  if  we  remember  what 
in  Dante's  time  (owing  partly,-no  doubt,  to  the  universal 
ignorance  of  Greek)  wore  the  relative  positions  of  Homer 
and  Virgil,  what  in  the  time  of  Milton  were  the  relative 
positions  of  Milton  himself,  of  Shakespeare,  and  of  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher;  again,  if  wo  remember  Jeffrey's 
famous  classification  of  the  poets  of  his  day,  wo  shall  bo 
driven  to  pause  over  Byron's  words  before  dismissing 
them.     Yet  some  definition,  for  the  purpose  of  this  essay, 


must  be  here  att-empted  jand,  using  the  phrase  "absolute 
poetry"  as  the  musical  critics  use  the  phrase  "absolute 
music,"  we  may,  perhaps,  without  too  great  presumption 
submit  the  following  : — 

A  bsolute  poeliy  is  the  concrete  and  artistic  expression  of, 
the  human  mind  in  emotional  and  rhythmical  language. 

This  at  least  will  bo  granted,  that  no  literary  expression 
can  properly  speaking  be  called  poetry  that  is  not  in  ai 
certain  deep  sense  emotional,  whatever  may  be  its  subject 
matter,  concrete  in  its  method  and  its  diction,  rhythmical 
in  movement,  and  artistic  in  form. 

That  the  expression  of  all  real  poetry  must  be  concrete 
in  method  and  diction  is  obvious,  and  yet  this  dictum 
would  exclude  from  the  definition  much  of  what  is  called 
didactic  poetry.  With  abstractions  the  poet  has  nothing 
to  do,  save  to  take  them  and  turn  them  into  concretions ; 
for,  as  artist,  he  is  simply  the  man  who  by  instinct 
embodies  in  concrete  forms  that  "  universal  idea "  which 
Gravina  speaks  of —that  which  is  essential  and  elemental 
in  nature  and  in  man ;  as  poetic  artist  he  is  simply  the 
man  who  by  instinct  chooses  for  his  concrete  forms 
metrical  language.  And  the  questions  to  be  asked  con- 
cerning any  work  of  art  are  simply  these — 

Is  that  which  is  here  embodied  really  permanent,  uni> 
versal,  and  elemental?  and  Is  the  concrete  form  em- 
bodying it  really  beautiful — acknowledged  as  beautiful  by 
the  soul  of  man  in  its  highest  moods  ?  Any  other  ques- 
tion is  an  impertinence. 

Examcies  are  always  useful  in  discussions  such  as  this. 

As  an  example  of  the  .absence  of  concrete  form  in 
verse  take  the  following  lines  from  George  Eliot'a  Spanish 
Gypsy : — 

■•■^peecli  is  but  broken  light  upon  the  depth 
Of  the  unspoken  ;  even  your  loved  woMS 
Float  in  the  larger  meaning  of  your  voice 
As  something  dimmer." 

Without  discussing  the  question  oT  blank  verse  cadence  and 
the  weakness  of  a  line  where  the  main  accent  falls  upon  a 
positive  hiatus,  "  of  the  unspoken,"  we  would  point  out 
that  this  powerful  passage  shows  the  spirit  of  poetry  without 
its  concrete  form.  The  abstract  method  is  substituted 
for  the  concrete.  Such  an  abstract  phrase  as  "  the  un- 
spoken "  belongs  entirely  to  prose. 

As  to  what  is  called  ratiocinative  poetry,  it  might  per- 
haps be  shown  that  it  does  not  exist  at  all.  Not  by 
syllogism,  but  per  sultum,  must  the  poet  reach  in  every 
case  his  conclusions.  We  listen  to  the  poet — wo  allow  him 
to  address  us  in  rhythm  or  in  rhyme — we  allow  him  to 
sing  to  us  while  other  men.  are  only  allowed  to  talk,  nob 
because  he  argues  more  logically  than  they,  but  because 
ho  feels  more  deeply  and  perhaps  more  truly.  It  is  for  his 
listeners  to  be  knowing  and  ratiocinativo.;  it  is  for  him  to 
be  gnomic  and  divinely  wise. 

That  poetry  must  be  metrical  or  oven  rhythmical  iij 
movement,  however,  ia  what  some  have  denied.  Her^ 
we  touch  at  once  the  very  root  of  the  eubjoct.  Thd 
difference  between  all  literature  and  more  "  word  knead, 
ing "  is  that,  while  literature  is  alive,  word-kneading  '\\ 
without  life.  This  literary  life,  while  it  is  only  bipartito 
in  prose,  seems  to  be  tripartite  in  poetry  ;  that  is  to  say, 
while  prose  requires  intellectual  life  and  emotional  life, 
poetry  seems  to  require  not  only  intellectual  lifd  and 
emotional  life  but  rhythmic  life,  thi.s  last  being  the  most 
important  of  all  according  to  many  critics,  tlnHigh  Aristotio 
is  not  among  those.  Here  indeed  is  the  "  fork  "  between 
the  old  critics  and  the  new.  Unless  the  rhythm  of  any 
metrical  passage  is  so  vigorous,  bo  natural,  and  so  free 
that  it  seems  as  though  it  could  live,  if  need  were,  by  its 
rhythm  alone,  has  that  jiossago  any  right  to  exist?  and 
should   it   not,  if   the   substance   is   good,  bo   forthwith 

XIX.  -  33 


258 


POETRY 


demetricized  and  turned  into  prose?  "  Tboreau  has  affirmed 
that  prose,  at  its  best,  has  high  qualities  of  its  owtL  beyond 
the  ken  of  poetry;  to  compensate  for  the  sacrifice  Of  these, 
should  not  the  metrical  gains  of  any  passage  be  beyond 
all  cavil  1 

But  this  argument  might  be  pressed  further  still.     It 
might  seem  bold  to  assert  that,  in  many  cases,  the  mental 
Value   of   poetry  may   actually  depend   upon   form   and 
colour,  but  would  it.  not  be  true  ]     The  mental  value  of 
poetry  must  be  judged^by  a  standard  not  applicable  to 
prose ;   but,  even  with'  regard   to  the   different  kinds  of 
poetry,  we  Biust  not  compare  poetry  whose  mental  value 
consists  in  a  distinct  and  logical  enunciation  of  ideas,  such 
as  that  of  Lucretius  and  Wordsworth,  and  poetry  whose 
mental  value  consists  partly  in  the  suggestive  richness  of 
passion  or  symbol  latent  in  rhythm  (such  as  that  of  Sappho 
sometimes,   Pindar  often,    Shelley  always),    or   latent  in 
nnpor-    color'',  such  as  that  of  some  of  the  Persian  poets.     To 
""trlcal  discuss  the  question.  Which  of  these  two  kinds  of  poetry 
jues-      is  the  more  precious  ?  would  be  idle,  but  are  we  not  driven 
^°°**     to  admit  that  certain  poems  whose  strength  is  rhythm, 
and  certain  other  poems  whose  strength  is  colour,  while 
devoid   of  any  logical  statement  of  thought,    may   be  as 
fruitful  of  thoughts,  and  emotions  too  deep  for  words  as  a 
shaken, prism  is. fruitful  of   tinted  lights'!     The  mental 
forces   at   work   in,  the  production  of   a  poem  like  the 
Excursion  are  of  a  very  different  kind  from  the  mental 
forces  at  work  in  the  production  of  a  poem  like  Shelley's 
"Ode  to  the  West  Wind.""  In  the  one  case  the  poet's 
artistic  methods,  like  those  of  the  Greek  architect,  show, 
and  are  intended  to  show,  the  solid  strength  of  the  struc- 
ture.    In  the  other,  the  poet's  artistic  methods,  like  those 
of    the  Arabian   architect,   contradict    the    idea    of    solid 
strength — make    the  structure    appear  to  hang  over  our 
heads  like  the  cloud  pageantry  of  heaven.     But,  in  both 
cases,  the  solid  strength  is,  and  must  be,  there,  at  the  base. 
Before  the   poet  begins  to  write  he   should  ask   himself 
■which   of   these  artistic   methods  is   natural   to  him ;  he 
should  ask  himself  whether  his  natural  impulse  is  towards 
the  weighty  iambic  movement  whose  primary  function  is 
to  state,  or   towards  those  lighter  movements  which  we 
still  call,  for  want  of  more  convenient  words,  anapaestic  and 
dactylic,  whose  primary  function  is  to  suggest.     Whenever 
Wordsworth  and  Keats  pass  from  the  former  to  the  latter 
they  pass  at  once  into  doggerel.     Nor  is  it  difficult  to  see 
why  English  anapaestic  and  dactylic  verse  must  suggest 
and  not  state,  as  even  so  comparatively  successful  a  iotir 
de  force  as  Shelley's  "  Sensitive  Plant "  shows.     Concise- 
ness is  a  primary  virtue  of  all  statement.     The  moment 
the  English  poet  tries  to  "  pack  "  his  anapaestic  or  dactylic 
line,   as  he  can   pack   his  iambic    line,    his    versification 
becomes  rugged,  harsh,  pebbly — becomes  so  of  necessity. 
Nor  is  this  all :   anapaestic    and    dactylic  verse    must  in 
English    be  obtrusively  alliterative,  or  the  same  pebbly 
effect  begins  to  be  felt.     The  anapaestic  line  is  so  full  of 
syllables  that  in  a  language  where  the  consonants  dominate 
the  vowels  (as  in  English),  these  syllables  grate  against 
each  other,  unless  their  corners  are  artfully  bevelled  by 
one  of  the  only  two  smoothing  processes  at  the  commajid 
of  an  English  versifier — obtrusive  alliteration,  or  an  ob- 
trusive use  of  liquids.     Now  these  demands  of  form  may 
be-  turned   by  the   perfect  artist   to  good  account  if  his 
appeal  to  the  listener's  soul  is  primarily  that  of  suggestion 
by  sound  or  symbol,   but  if  his  appeal  is  that  of  direct 
and    logical    statement  the    difiuseness   inseparable   from 
good  anapaestic  and  dactylic  verse  is  a  source  of  weakness 
such  as  the  true  artist  should  find  intolerable. 

But  enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  in  discussing 
poetry  questions  of  versification  touch,  as  we  have  said, 
the  very  root  of  the  subject. 


Using  the  word  "form"  in  a  wider  sense  still,  a  sense 
that  includes  "composition,"  it  can  be  shown  that  poetry 
to  be  entitled  to  the  name  must  be  artistic  in  form. 
^Vhether  a  poem  be  a  Welsh  triban  or  a  stomello  impro- 
vised by  an  Italian  peasant  girl,  whether  it  be  an  ode  by 
Keats  or  a  tragedy  by  Sophocles,  it  is  equally  a  work  of 
art.  The  artist's  command  over  form  may  be  shown  in  the 
peasant  girl's  power  of  spontaneously  rendering  in  simple 
verse,  in  her  stomello  or  rispetto,  her  emotions  through 
nature's  symbols ;  it  may  be  shown  by  Keats  in  that  pe.-" 
feet  fusion  of  all  poetic  elements  of  which  he  was  such  a 
master,  in  the  manipulation  of  language  so  beautiful  both 
for  form  and  colour  that  thought  and  words  seem  but  ono 
blended  loveliness ;  or  it  may  be  shown  by  Sophocles  in  a 
mastery  over  what  in  painting  is  called  composition,  in  the 
exercise  of  that  wise  vision  of  the  artist  which,  looking 
before  and  after,  sees  the  thing  of  beauty  as  a  whole,  and 
enables  him  to  grasp  the  eternal  laws  of  cause  and  effect  in 
art  and  bend  them  to  his  own  wizard  will.  In  every  case, 
indeed,  form  is  an  essential  part  of  poetry ;  and,  although 
George  Sand's  saying  that  "  L'art  est  une  forme  "  applies 
perhaps  more  strictly  to  the  plastic  arts  (where  the  soul  is 
reached  partly  through  mechanical  means),  its  application 
to  poetry  can  hardly  be  exaggerated. 

Owing,  however,  to  the  fact  that  the  word  ttoitjtt;?  (first 
used  to  designate  the  poetic  artist  by  Herodotus)  means 
maker,  Aristotle  seems  to  have  assumed  that  the  indis- 
pensable basis  of  poetry  is  invention.  He  appears  to  have 
thought  that  a  poet  is  a  poet  more  on  account  of  the  com- 
position of  the  action  than  on  account  of  the  composition 
of  his  verses.  Indeed  he  said  as  much  as  this.  Of  epic 
poetry  he  declared  emphatically  that  it  produces  its  imita- 
tions either  by  mere  articulate  words  or  by  metre  super- 
added. This  is  to  widen  the  definition  of  poetry  so  as  to 
include  all  imaginative  literature,  and  Plato  seems  to  have 
given  an  equally  wide  meaning  to  the  word  ttoiijo-is.  Only, 
while  Aristotle  considered  Troi'v/cris  to  be  an  imitation  of  the 
facts  of  nature,  Plato  considered  it  to  be  an  imitation  of 
the  dreams  of  man.  Aristotle  ignored,  and  Plato  slighted,  the 
importance  of  versification  (though  Plato  on  one  occasion 
admitted  that  he  who  did  not  know  rhythm  could  be  called 
neither  musician  nor  poet).  It  is  impossible  to  discuss  here 
the  question  whether  an  imaginative  work  in  which  the 
method  is  entirely  concrete  and  the  expression  entirely 
emotional,  while  the  form  is  unraetrical,  is  or  is  not  entitled 
to  be  called  a  poem.  That  there  may  be  a  kind  of  un- 
metrical  narrative  so  poetic  in  motive,  so  concrete  in  dic- 
tion, so  emotional  in  treatment,  as  to  escape  altogether 
from  those  critical  canons  usually  applied  to  prose,  we 
shall  see  when,  in  discussing  the  epic,  we  come  to  touch 
upon  the  Northern  sagas. 

Perhaps  the  first  critic  who  tacitly  revolted  against  the 
dictum  that  substance,  and  not  form,  is  the  indispensable 
basis  of  poetry  was  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  whose 
treatise  upon  the  arrangement  of  words  is  really  a  very  fine 
piece  of  literary  criticism.  In  his  acute  remarks  upon  the 
arrangement  of  the  words  in  the  sixteenth  book  of  the 
Odyssey,  as  compared  with  that  in  the  story  of  Gyges  by 
Herodotus,  was  perhaps  first  enunciated  clearly  the  doctrine 
that  poetry  is  fundamentally  a  matter  of  style.  The  Aristo- 
telian theory  as  to  invention,  however,  dominated  all  criti- 
cism after  as  well  as  before  Dionysius.  When  Bacon  came 
to  discuss  the  subject  (and  afterwards)  the  only  division 
between  the  poetical  critics  was  perhaps  between  the  fol- 
lowers of  Aristotle  and  those  of  Plato  as  to'  what  poetry 
should,  and  what  it  should  not,  imitate.  It  is  eurious  to 
speculate  as  to  what  would  have  been  the  result  had  the 
poets  followed  the  critics  in  this  matter.  Had  not  the 
instinct  of  the  poet  been  too  strong  for  the  schools,  would 
poetry  as  an  art  have  been  lost  and  merged  in  such  imagica.- 


Itia 

artUW 
in  forw 


POETRY 


259 


tive  prose  as  Plato's  1  Or  is  not  the  instinct  for  form  too 
strong  to  be  stifled  ?  By  the  poets  themselves  metre  was 
always  considered  to  be  the  one  indispensable  requisite  of 
a  poem,  though,  as  regards  criticism,  so  recently  as  the  time 
of  the  appearance  of  the  Waverley  Novels,  the  Quarterly 
Jteview  would  sometimes  speak  of  them  as  "  poems  ";  and 
perhaps  even  now  there  are  critics  of  a  very  high  rank  who 
woula  do  the  same  with  regard  to  romances  so  concrete 
in  method  and  diction,  and  so  full  of  poetic  energy,  as 
Wuihering  Heights  and  Jane  Eyre,  where  we  get  absolutely 
all  that  Aristotle  requires  for  a  poem.  On  the  whole, 
however,  the  theory  that  versification  is  not  an  indispens- 
able requisite  of  a  poem  seems  to  have  become  nearly 
obsolete  in  our  time.  Perhaps,  indeed,  many  critics  would 
now  go  so  far  in  the  contrary  direction  as  to  say  \v-ith 
Hegel  {Aesthetik,  iii.  p.  289)  that  "  metre  is  the  first  and 
only  condition  absolutely  demanded  by  poetry,  yea  even 
more  necessary  than  a  figurative  picturesque  diction."  At 
all  events  this  at  least  may  be  said  that  in  our  own  time 
the  division  between  poetical  critics  is  not  between  Aristo- 
telians and  Baconians ;  it  is  now  of  a  different  kind  alto- 
gether. ^Vhile  one  group  of  critics  may  still  perhaps  say 
with  Dryden  that  "  a  poet  is  a  maker,  as  the  name  signi- 
fies," and  that  "  he  who  capnot  make,  that  is,  invent,  has 
Lis  name  for  nothing,"  another  group  contends  that  it  is 
not  the  invention  but  the  artistic  treatment,  the  form, 
which  determines  whether  an  imaginative  writer  is  a  poet 
or  a  writer  of  prose, — contends,  in  short,  that  emotion  is 
the  basis  of  all  true  poetic  expression,  whatever  be  the 
subject  matter,  that  thoughts  must  be  expressed  in  an 
emotional  manner  before  t"hey  can  be  brought  into  poetry, 
and  that  this  emotive  expression  demands  even  yet  some- 
thing else,  viz.,  style  and  form. 

But,  although  many  critics  are  now  agreed  that  "  L'art 
est  une  forme,"  that  without  metre  and  without  form 
there  can  be  no  poetry,  there  are  few  who  would  contend 
that  poetry  can  exist  by  virtue  of  any  one  of  these  alone, 
or  even  by  virtue  of  all  these  combined.  Quito  inde- 
pendent of  verbal  melody,  though  mostly  accompanying 
it,  and  quite  independent  of  "  composition,"  there  is  an 
atmosphere  floating  around  the  poet,  through  which  he 
sees  everything,  an  atmosphere  which  stamps  his  utterances 
as  poetry  ;  for  instance,  among  all  the  versifiers  contem- 
porary with  Donne  there  was  none  so  rugged  as  he  occa- 
sionally was,  and  yet  such  songs  as  "  Sweetest  love,  I  do 
not  go  for  weariness  of  thee"  prove  how  true  a  poet  he 
was  whenever  he  could  master  those  technicalities  which 
far  inferior  poets  find  comparatively  easy.  While  rhythm 
may  to  a  very  considerable  degree  be  acquired  (though,  of 
course,  •  the  highest  rhythmical  effects  never  can),  the 
power  of  looking  at  the  world  through  the  atmosphere 
that  floats  boTore  the  poet's  eyes  is  not  to  be  learned  and 
not  to  be  taught.  This  atmosphere  is  what  we  call  poetic 
imagination,  a  subject  which  will  have  to  be  fully  discussed 
further  on.  But  first  it  seems  necessary  to  say  a  word  or 
two  upon  that  high  terriper  of  the  soulwhich  in  truly  great 
poetry  gives  birth  to  this  poetic  imagination. 

The  "  message  "  of  poetry  must  be  more  unequivocal, 
more  thoroughly  accentuated,  than  that  of  any  of  the 
other  fine  arts.  With  regard  to  modern  poetry,  indeed, 
it  may  almost  bo'  said  that  if  any  writer's  verse  embodies 
a  message,  true,  direct,  and  pathetic,  wo  in  modern  Europe 
cannot  stay  to  inquire  too  curiously  about  the  degree  of 
artistic  perfection  with  which  it  is  delivered,  for  Words- 
worth's saying  "That  which  comes  from. the  heart  goes  to 
the  heart "  applies  very  closely  indeed  to' modern  poetry. 
The  most  truly  passionate  poet  in  Greece  was  no  doubt  in 
a  deep  sense  the  most  artistic  poet ;  but  in  her  case  art 
and  passion  were  one,  and  that  is  why  she  has  been  so 
cruelly  misunderstood.     The  most  truly  passionate  nature, 


and  perhaps  the  greatest  soul,  that  in  our  time  has  ex- 
pressed itself  in  English  verse  is  Elizabeth  Barrett  Brown-' 
ing  ;  at  least  it  is  certain  that,  with  the  single  exception 
of  Hood  in  the  '!Song  of  the  Shirt,"  no  writer  of  the 
century  has  really  touched  our  hearts  with  a  hand  so 
powerful  as  hers, — and  this  notwithstanding  violations 
of  poetic  form,  notwithstanding  defective  rhymes,  such 
as  would  appal  some  of  the  contemporary  versifiers  of 
England  and  France  "  who  lisp  in  numbers  for  the  numbers 
[and  nothing  else]  come."  The  truth  is  that  in  order  to 
produce  poetry  the  soul  must  for  the  time  being  have 
reached  that  state  of  exaltation,  that  state  of  freedom 
from  self-consciousness,  depicted  in  the  lines — 

"  I  started  once,  or  .wemeil  to  start,  in  p.iin, 

Rtsolvcd  on  iiolile  tliinfjs,  and  stroi\'e  to  speak, 
As  when  a  great  tlinnglit  strikes  along  the  brain, 
And  flushes  all  the  check.' 

Whatsoever  may  be  the  poet's  "  knowledge  of  bis  art," 
into  this  mood  he  must  always  pass  before  he  can  write  a 
truly  poetic  line.  For,  notwithstanding  all  that  we  have 
said  and  are  going  to  say  upon  poetry  as  a  fine  art,  it  is 
in  the  deepest  sense  of  the  word  an  "inspiration"  indeed. 
No  inan  can  write  a  line  of  genuine  poetry  without  having 
been  "born  again  "  (or,  as  the  true  rendering  of  the  text 
says,  "  born  from  above  ") ;  and  then  the  mastery  over 
those  highest  reaches  of  form  which  are  beyond  the  ken 
of  the  mere  versifier  comes  to  him  as  a  result  of  the  change. 
Hence,  with  all  Mrs  Browning's  metrical  blemishes,  the 
splendour  of  her  metrical  triumphs  at  her  best. 

For  what  is  the  deep  distinction  between  poet  and  prose- 
man  ?  A  writer  may  be  many  things  besides  a  poet ;  he 
may  be  a  warrior  like  yEschylus,  a  man  of  business  like 
Shakespeare,  a  courtier  like  Chaucer,  or  a  cosmopolitan 
philosopher  like  Goethe ;  but  the  moment  the  poetic 
mood  is  upon  him  all  the  trappings  of  the  world  with 
which  for  years  he  may  perhaps  have  been  clothing  his 
soul — the  world's  knowingness,  its  cynicism,  its  self-seek- 
ing, its  anbition — fall  away,  and  the  man  becomes  an 
inspired  child  again,  with  ears  attuned  to  nothing  but 
the  whispers  of  those  spirits  from  the  Golden  Age,  who, 
according  to  Hesiod,  haunt  and  bless  the  degenerate  earth. 
What  such  a  man  produces  may  greatly  delight  and  astonish 
his  readers,  yet  not  so  greatly  as  it  delights  and  astonishes 
himself.  His  passages  of  pathos  draw  no  tears  so  deep  or 
so  sweet  as  those  that  fall  from  his  own  eyes  while  he 
writes ;  his  sublime  passages  overawe  no  soul  so  imperi- 
ously as  hia  own;  his  humour  draws,  no  laughter  so  rich 
or  so  deep  as  that  stirred  within  his  own  breast.- 

It  might  almost,  be  said,  indeed,  that  Sincerity  and  Con-  Sinceritj 
science,  the  two  angels  that  bring  to  the  jioet  the  wonders  ">.dcon- 
of  the  poetic  dream,  bring  him  also  the  deepest,  truest  '"""*• 
delight  of  form.  It  might  almost  be  sa'id  t'.iat  by  aid  of 
sincerity  and  conscience  the  poet  is  enabled  to  see- more 
clearly'than  other  men  the  eternal  limits  of  his  own  art — 
to  see  with  Sophocles  that  nothing,  not  evtjn  [lootry  itself,' 
is  of  any  worth  to  man,  invested  as  ho  m  by  the  wholo 
army  of  evil,  unless  it  is  in  the  deepest  and  highest  sense 
good,  unless  it  comes  linking  us  all  together  by  closer 
bonds  of  sympathy  and  jjity,  strengthening  us  to  fight  the 
foes  with  .whom  fate  and  even  nature,  the  mother  Who 
bore  us,  sometimes  seem  in  league — to  see  with  Milton 
that  the  high  quality  of  man's,  soul  which  in  English  is 
expressed  by  the  word  virtue  is  greater  than  oven  the 
great  poem  ho  prized,  greater  than  all  the  rhythms  of  all 
the  tongues  that  have  been  spoken  since  Babel — and  to 
see  with  Shakespeare  and  with  Shelley  that  the  high 
passion  which  in  English  is  called  love  is  lovelier  than 
all  art,  lovelier  than  all  the  marbloMcrcurics  tbat  "await 
the  chisel  of  the  sculptor"  in  all  the  marble  hills.  So 
much  for  our  first  inquiry — ".What  is  poetry  i  " 


260 


POETRY 


2.  What  Position  does  Poetry  take  up  in  Pelation  to  the 
other  Arts  ? — Notwithstanding  the  labours  of  Lessing  and 
his  followers,  the  position  accorded  by  criticism  to  poetry 
in  relation  to  the  other  arts  was  never  so  uncertain  and 
anomalous  as  at  the  present  moment.  On  the  one  hand 
there  is  a  class  of  critics  who,  judging  from  their  perpetual 
comparison  of  poems  to  pictures,  claim  her  as  a  sort  of 
handmaid  of  painting  and  sculpture.  On  the  other  hand 
the  disciples  of  Wagner,  while  professing  to  do  homage  to 
poetry,  claim  her  as  the  handmaid  of  music.  To  find  her 
proper  place  is  therefore  the  most  important  task  the  critic 
can  undertake  at  this  time,  though  it  is  one  far  beyond 
■the  scope  of  a  paper  so  brief  as  this.  With  regard  to  the 
relations  of  poetry  to  painting  and  sculpture,  however,  it 
seems  necessary  to  glance  for  a  moment  at  the  saying 
of  Simonides,  as  recorded  by  Plutarch,  that  poetry  is  a 
speaking  picture  and  that  painting  is  a  mute  poetry.  It 
appears  to  have  had  upon  modern  criticism  as  much  in- 
fluence since  the  publication  of  Lessing's  Laocoon  as  it  had 
before.  Perhaps  it  is  in  some  measure  answerable  for  the 
modern  vice  "of  excessive  word-painting.  Beyond  this  one 
saying,  there  is  little  or  nothing  in  Greek  literature  to  show 
that  the  Greeks  recognized  between  poetry  and  the  plastic 
an"d  pictorial  arts  an  affinity  closer  than  that  which  exists 
between  poetry  and  music  and  dancing.  Understanding 
artistic  methods  more  profoundly  than  the  moderns,  and  far 
too  profoundly  to  suppose  that  there  is  any  special  and 
peculiar  affinity  between  an  art  whose  medium  of  expres- 
sion is  marble  and  an  art  whose  medium  of  expression  is  a 
growth  of  oral  symbols,  the  Greeks  seem  to  have  studied 
poetry  not  so  much  in  its  relation  to  painting  and  sculp- 
ture as  in  its  relation  to  music  and  dancing.  It  is  matter 
of  familiar  knowledge,  for  instance,  that  at  the  Dionysian 
festival  it  was  to  the  poet  as  "  teacher  of  the  chorus " 
(^opoSiSao-KoXos)  that  the  prize  was  awarded,  even  though 
the  "  teacher  of  the  chorus "  were  ^schylus  himself  or 
Relation  Sophocles.  And  this  recognition  of  the  relation  of  poetry 
of  poetry  to  music  is  perhaps  one  of  the  many  causes  of  the  superi- 
to  music.  pj.jty  pf  Greek  to  all  other  poetry  in  adapting  artistic 
means  to  artistic  ends.  In  Greek  poetry,  even  in  Homer's 
description  of  the  shield  of  Achilles,  even  in  the  famous 
description  by  Sophocles  of  his  native  woods  in  the  (Edipus 
^  Coloneus,  such  word-painting  as  occurs  seems,  if  not  inevit- 
able and  unconscious,  so  alive  with  imaginative  feeling  as 
to  become  part  and  parcel  of  the  dramatic  or  lyric  move- 
ment itself.  And  whenever  description  is  so  introduced 
the  reader  of  Greek  poetry  need  not  be  told  that  the 
scenery  itself  rises  before  the  listener's  imagination  with  a 
clearness  of  outline  and  a  vigour  of  colour  such  as  no 
ainount  of  detailed  word-painting  in  the  modern  fashion 
can  achieve.  The  picture  even  in  the  glorious  verses  at 
the  end  of  the  eighth  book  of  the  Iliad  rises  before  our 
eyes — seems  actually  to  act  upon  our  bodily  senses — 
simply  because  the  poet's  eagerness  to  use  the  picture  for 
merely  illustrating  the  solemnity  and  importance  of  his 
story  lends  to  the  picture  that  very  authenticity  which 
the  work  of  the  modern  word-painter  lacks. 

That  the  true  place  of  poetry  lies  between  music  on  the 
one  hand  and  prose,  or  loosened  speech,  on  the  other,  was, 
we  say,  taken  for  granted  by  the  one  people  in  whom  the 
artistic  instinct  was  fully  developed. 

No  doubt  they  used  the  word  music  in  a  very  wide 
sense,  in  a  sense  that  might  include  several  arts.  But  it 
is  a  suggestive  fact  that,  in  the  Greek  language,  long 
before  poetic  art  was  called  "  making "  it  was  called 
"singing."  The  poet  was  not  iroijyTTjs  but  doiSds.  And 
as  regards  the  Romans  it  is  curious  to  see  how  every  now 
and  then  the  old  idea  that  poetry  is  singing  rather  than 
making  will  disclose  itself.  It  will  be  remembered  for 
instance  how  Terence,  in  the  prologue  of  Phormio.  alludes 


to  poets  as  musicians.  That  the  ancients  were  right  in 
this  we  should  be  able  to  show  did  our  scheme  permit  an 
historical  treatment  of  poetry  :  we  should  be  able  to  show 
that  music  and  the  lyrical  function  of  the  poet  began 
together,  but  that  here,  as  in  other  things,  the  progress 
of  art  from  the  implicit  to  the  explicit  has  separated  the 
two.  Every  art  has  its  special  function,  has  a  certain  work 
which  it  can  do  better  than  any  one  of  its  sister  arts. 
Hence  its  right  of  existence.  For  instance,  before  the 
"sea  of  emotion"  within  the  soul  has  become  "curdled 
into  thoughts,"  it  can  be  expressed  in  inarticulate  tone. 
Hence,  among  the  fine  arts,  music  is  specially  adapted  for 
rendering  it.  It  was  perhaps  a  perception  of  this  fact 
which  made  the  Syrian  Gnostics  define  life  to  be  "  moving 
music."  When  this  sea  of  emotion  has  "  curdled  into 
thoughts,"  articulate  language  rhythmically  arranged — 
words  steeped  in  music  and  colour,  but  at  the  same  time 
embodying  ideas — can  do  what  no  mere  wordless  music  is 
able  to  achieve  in  giving  it  expression,  just  as  unrhyth- 
mical language,  language  mortised  in  a  foundation  of  logic, 
that  is  to  say  prose,  can  best  express  these  ideas  as  soon 
as  they  have  cooled  and  settled  and  cleared  themselves  of 
emotion  altogether.  Yet  every  art  can  in  some  degree 
invade  the  domain  of  her  sisters,  and  the  nearer  these 
sisters  stand  to  each  other  the  more  easily  and  completely 
can  this  invasion  be  accomplished.  Prose,  for  instance, 
can  sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  Plato,  do  some  of  the 
work  of  poetry  (however  imperfectly,  and  however  tram- 
melled by  heavy  conditions) ;  and  sometimes  poetry,  as  in 
Pindar's  odes  and  the  waves  of  the  Greek  chorus,  can 
do,  though  in  the  same  imperfect  way,  the  work  of  music. 
The  poems  of  Sappho,  however,  are  perhaps  the  best  case 
in  point.  Here  the  poet's  passion  is  expressed  so  com- 
pletely by  the  mere  sound  of  her  verses  that  a  good  recita- 
tion of  them  to  a  person  ignorant  of  Greek  would  convey 
something  of  that  passion  to  the  listener ;  and  similar 
examples  almost  as  felicitous  might  be  culled  from  Homer, 
from  ^schylus,  and  from  Sophocles.  Nor  is  this  power 
confined  to  the  Greek  poets.  The  students  of  Virgil  have 
often  and  with  justice  commented  on  such  lines  as  yEn.  v. 
481  (where  the  sudden  sinking  of  a  stricken  ox  is  rendered 
by  means  of  rhythm),  and  such  lines  as  Georg.  ii.  441, 
where,  by  means  of  verbal  sounds,  the  gusts  of  wind  about 
a  tree  are  reridered  as  completely  as  though  the  voice  were 
that  of  the  wind  itself.  In  the  case  of  Sappho  the  effect 
is  produced  by  the  intensity  of  her  passion,  in  the  case  of 
Homer  by  the  intensity  of  the  dramatic  vision,  in  the  case 
of  Virgil  by  a  supreme  poetic  art.  But  it  can  also  be  pro- 
duced by  the  mere  ingenuity  of  the  artist,  as  in  Edgar 
Poe's  "  Ulalume."  The  poet's  object  in  that  remarkable 
tour  de  force  was  to  express  dull  and  hopeless  gloom  in  the 
same  way  that  the  mere  musician  would  have  expressed 
it,- — that  is  to  say,  by  monotonous  reiterations,  by  hollow 
and  dreadful  reverberations  of  gloomy  sounds — though  as 
an  artist  whose  vehicle  was  articulate  speech  he  was  obliged 
to  add  gloomy  ideas,  in  order  to  give  to  his  work  the 
intellectual  coherence  necessary  for  its  existence  as  a  poem. 
He  evidently  set  out  to  do  this,  and  he  did  it,  and 
"  Ulalume  "  properly  intoned  would  produce  something 
like  the  same  effect  upon  a  listener  knowing  no  word  of 
English  that  it  produces  upon  us. 

On  the  other  hand,  music  can  trench  very  far  upon  the 
domain  of  articulate  speech,  as  we  perceive  in  the  wonder- 
ful instrumentation  of  Wagner.  Yet,  while  it  can  be 
shown  that  the  place  of  poetry  is  scarcely  so  close  to 
sculpture  and  painting  as  to  music  on  the  one  side  and 
loosened  speech  on  the  other,  the  affinity  of  poetry  to 
music  must  not  be  exaggerated.  We  must  be  cautious 
how  we  follow  the  canons  of  Wagner  and  the  more  enthusi- 
astic of   his  disciples,   who   almost  seem   to  think  that 


POETRY 


261 


inarticulafo  tona  can  not  only  suggest  ideas  but  express 
them — can  give  voice  to  the  Verstand,  in  short,  as  well  as 
to  the  Vtmunft  of  man.'  Even  the  Greeks  drew  a  funda- 
mental diiiinction  between  melic  poetry  (poetry  written  to 
bo  sung)  ahd  poetry  that  was  written  to  be  recited.  It  is  a 
pity  that,  while  modern  critics  of  poetry  have  understood  oi* 
at  least  have  given  attention  to  painting  and  sculpture,  so 
few  have  possessed  any  knowledge  of  music — a  fact  which 
makes  Dante's  treatise  De  Vulgari  Eloipiio  so  important. 
Dante  was  a  musician,  and  seems  to  have  had  a  con- 
siderable knowledge  of  the  relations  between  musical  and 
metrical  laws.  But  he  did  not,  we  think,  assume  that 
these  laws  are  identical. 

If  it  is  indeed  possible  to  establish  the  identity  of 
musical  and  metrical  laws,  it  can  only  be  done  by  a 
purely  scientific  investigation;  it  can  only  be  done  by  a 
most  searching  inquiry  into  the  subtle  relations  that  we 
know  must  exist  throughout  the  universe  between  all  the 
laws  of  undulation.  And  it  is  curious  to  remember  that 
Bome  of  the  greatest  masters  of  verbal  melody  have  had 
no  knowledge  of  music,  while  some  have  not  even  shown 
any  love  of  it.  All  Greek  boys  were  taught  music,  but 
whether  Pindar's  unusual  musical  skill  was  born  of  natural 
instinct  and  inevitable  passion,  or  came  from  the  accidental 
circumstance  that  his  father  was,  as  has  been  alleged,  a 
musician,  and  that  he  was  as  a  boy  elaborately  taught 
musical  science  by  Lasus  of  Hermione,  we  have  no  means 
of  knowing.  Nor  can  we  now  learn  how  much  of  Milton's' 
musical  knowledge  resulted  from  a  iike  exceptional  "  en- 
vironment," or  from  the  fact  that  his  father  was  a  musician. 
But  when  we  find  that  Shelley  seems  to  have  been  with- 
out the  real  passion  for  music,  that  Rossetti  disliked  it,  and 
that  Coleridge's  apprehension  of  musical  effects  was  of  the 
ordinary  nebulous  kind,  we  must  hesitate  before  accepting 
the  theory  of  Wagner. 

The  question  cannot  be  pursued  here ;  but  if  it  should 
on  inquiry  be  found  that,  although  poetry  is  more  closely 
related  to  music  than  to  any  of  the  other  arts,  yet  the 
power  over  verbal  melody  at  its  very  highest  is  so  all- 
eufficing  to  its  possessor  as  in  the  case  of  Shelley  and 
Coleridge  that  absolute  music  becomes  a  superfluity,  this 
would  only  be  another  illustration  of  that  intense  egoism 
and  concentration  of  force — the  impulse  of  all  high  artistic 
energy — which  is  required  in  order  to  achieve  the  rarest 
miracles  of  art. 

With  regard  to  the  relation  of  poetry  to  prose,  Coleridge 
cnce  asserted  in  conversation  that  the  real  antithesis  of 
poetry  was  not  prose  but  science.  And  if  he  was  right  the 
difference  in  kind  lies,  not  between  the  poet  and  the  prose 
writer,  but  between  the  literary  artist  (the  man  whcse 
instinct  is  to  manipulate  language)  and  the  man  of  facts 
and  of  action  whose  instinct  impels  him  to  act,  or,  if  not 
to  act,  to  inquire. 

One  thing  is  at  least  certain,  that  prose,  however  fervid 
and  emotional  it  may  become,  must  always  be  directed,  or 
eeem  to  be  directed,  by  the  reins  of  logic.  Or,  to  vary  the 
metaphor,  like  a  captive  balloon  it  can  never  really  leave 
the  earth. 

Indeed,  with  the  literature  of  knowledge  as  opposed  to 
the  literature  of  power  poetry  has  nothing  to  do.  Facts 
have  no  place  in  poetry  until  they  are  brought  into  relation 
with  the  human  soul.  But  a  mere  cfataloguo  of  ships  may 
become  poetical  if  it  tends  to  show  the  strength  and  nrido 
and  glory  of  the  warriors  who  invested  Troy  ;  a  detailed 
description  of  the  designs  upon  a  shield,  howcvur  beautiful 
and  poetical  in  itself,  becomes  still  more  so  if  it  tends  to 
show  the  skill  of  the  divine  artificer  and  the  invincible 
splendour  of  a  hero  like  Achilles.  But  mere  dry  exacti- 
tude of  imitation  is  not  for  poetry  but  for  loosened  speech. 
Hence,  most  of  the  so-called  poetry  of  Hesiod  ia  not  poetry 


at  all.  The  Muses  who  spoke  to  him  about  "  truth  "  on 
Mount  Helicon  made  the  common  mistake  of  confounding 
fact  with  truth.  And  here  we  tputb  upon  a  very  import- 
ant matter.  The  reason  why  in  proso  speech  is  loosened 
is  that,  untrammelled  by  the  laws  of  metre,  language  is 
able  with  more  exactitude  to  imitate  nature,  though  of 
course  speech,  even  when  "loosened,"  cannot,  when  actual 
sensible  objects  are  to  be  depicted,  compete  in  any  real 
degree  with  the  plastic  arts  m  accuracj  of  imitation,  for 
the  simple  reason  that  its  media  are  not  colours  nor  solids 
but  symbols— arbitrary  symbols  which  can  be  made  to 
indicate,  but  never  to  reproduce,  colours  and  solids. 
Accuracy  of  imitation  is  the  first  requisite  of  prose.  But 
the  moment  language  has  to  be  governed  oy  the  laws  of 
metre — the  moment  the  conflict  begins  bttween  the  claims 
of  verbal  music  and  the  claims  of  colour  and  form — then 
prosaic  accuracy  has  to  yield ;  sharpness  ot  outline,  mere 
fidelity  of  imitation,  such  as  is  within  tlie  compass  of 
prose,  have  in  some  degree  to  be  sacrificed.  But,  just  as 
with  regard  to  the  relations  between  poetry  and  music  the 
greatest  master #is  he  who  borrows  the  most  that  can  be 
borrowed  from  music,  and  loses  the  least  that  can  be  lost 
from  metre,  so  with  regard  to  the  relations  between  poetry 
and  prose  the  greatest  master  is  he  who  borrows  the  most 
that  can  be  borrowed  from  prose  and  loses  the  least  that 
can  be  lost  from  verse.  No  doubt  this  is  what  every  poet 
tries  to  do  by  instinct ;  but  some  sacrifice  on  either  side 
there  must  be,  and,  with  regard  to  poetry  and  prose, 
modern  poets  at  least  might  be  divided  into  those  who 
make  picturesqueness  yield  to  verbal  melody,  and  those 
who  make  verbal  melody  yield  to  picturesqueness. 

With  one  class  of  poets,  fine  as  is  perhaps  the  melody, 
it  is  made  subservient  to  outline  or  to  colour ;  with  the 
other  class  colour  and  outline  both  yield  to  metre.  The 
chief  aim  of  the  first  cla.ss  is  to  paint  a  picture  ;  the  chief 
aim  of  the  second  is  to  sing  a  song.  Weber,  in  driving 
through  a  beautiful  country,  could  only  enjoy  its  beauty 
by  translating  it  inco  music.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
some  poets  with  regard  to  verbal  melody.  The  supreme 
artist,  however,  is  he  whose  pictorial  and  musical  power 
are  so  interfused  that  each  seems  born  of  the  other,  as  is 
the  case  with  Sappho,  Homer,  ./Eschylus,  Sophocles,  and 
indeed  most  of  the  great  Greek  poets.  Among  our  own 
poets  (leaving  the  two  supremo  masters  undiscussed)  Keats 
and  Coleridge  have  certainly  done  this.  The  colour  seems 
born  of  the  music  and  the  music  born  of  the  colour.  In 
French  poetry  the  same  triumph  has  been  achieved  irf 
Victor  Hugo's  magnificent  poem  "  En  Marchant  la  Nuit 
dans  un  Bois,"  which,  as  a  rendering  through  verbal  music 
of  the  witchery  of  nature,  stands  alone  in  the  poetry  of 
France.  For  there  the  jioet  conquers  that  crowning  diffi- 
culty we  have  been  alluding  to,  the  difliculty  of  stealing 
from  prose  as  much  distinctness  of  colour  and  clearness 
of  outline  as  can  bo  imported  into  verse  with  as  little 
sacrifice  as  possible  of  melody. 

But  to  return  to  the  geneial  relations  of  poetry  to 
prose.  If  poetry  can  in  some  degree  invade  the  domain 
of  prose,  80  on  the  other  hand  prose  can  at  times  invaJo 
the  domain  of  poetry,  and  no  doubt  the  prose  of  Plato — 
what  is  called  poetical  prose — is  a  legitimate  form  of  art. 
Poetry,  the  earliest  form  of  literature,  is  also  the  final  and 
ideal  form  of  all  pure  literature  ;  and,  when  Jjandor  insists 
that  poetry  and  poetical  pro.so  are  antagonistic,  wo  must 
remember  that  Landor's  judgments  are  mostly  ba.sed  on 
feeling,  and  that  his  hatred  of  Plato  would  bo  quite 
suflicicnt  basis  with  him  for  an  entire  system  of  critici.sm 
upon  poetical  jirose.  As  with  Carlyle,  there  was  a  time  in 
his  life  when  Plato  (who  of  course  is  the  great  figure 
standing  between  the  two  arts  of  metro  and  loosened 
speech)  had  serious  thoughts  of  becoming  a  poet.     And 


262 


POETRY 


perhaps,  like  Carlyle,  having  the  good  sense  to  see  his  true 
function,  he  himself  desisted  from  writinc?,  and  strictly 
forbade  other  men  to  write,  in  verse.  If  we  consider  this, 
and  if  we  consider  that  certain  of  the  great  English  masters 
of  poetic  prose  in  the  17th  century  were  as  incapable  of 
writing  in  metre  as  their  followers  Richter  and  Carlyle, 
we  shall  hardly  escape  the  con'clusion  on  the  one  hand  that 
the  faculty  of  writing  poetry  is  quite  another  faculty  than 
that  of  producing  work  in  the  arts  most  closely  allied  to 
it,  musiq  and  prose,  but  that  on  the  other  hand  there  is 
nothing  antagonistic  between  these  faculties.  So  much  for 
poetry's  mere  place  among  the  other  arts. 

Importance  of  Poetry  in  Relation  to  other  Arts. — As  to 
the  comparative  importance  and  value  of  poetry  among  the 
other  arts,  this  is  a  subject  upon  which  much"  discussion, 
of  a  more  or  less  idle  kind,  has  been  wasted.  We  do  not 
feel  called  to  dwell  at  any  length  upon  it  here.  Yet  a 
word  or  two  upon  the  question  is  necessary  in  order  that 
we  may  understand  what  is  the  scope  and  what  are  the 
iiniits  of  .poetry  with  regard  to  the  other  arts,  especially 
with  regard  to  music  and  to  prose.  * 

Wiiere  There  is  one  great,  point  of  superiority  that  musical  art 
poetry  is  exhibits  over  metrical  art.  This  consists,  not  in  the 
Itnd""""  ^^P^<^''y  ^o"^  melody,  but  in  the  capacity  for  harmony  in 
^jjgrg  the  musician's  sense.  The  finest  music  of  ^schylus,  of 
•aperior  Pindar,  of  Shakespeare,  of  Milton,  is  after  all  only  a  succes- 
to  music;  sion  of  melodious  notes,  and,  in  endeavouring  to  catch  the 
harmonic  intent  of  strophe,  antistrophe,  and  epode  in  the 
Greek  chorus  and  in  the  true  ode  (that  of  Pindar),  we  can 
only  succeed  by  pressing  memory  into  our  service.  We 
have  to  recall  by  memory  the  waves  that  have  gone  before, 
and  then  to  imagine  their  harmonic  power  in  relation  to 
the  waves  at  present  occuppng  the  ear.  Counterpoint, 
therefore,  is  not  to  be  achieved  by  the  metricist,  even 
though  he  be  Pindar,  himself ;  but  in  music  this  perfect 
ideal  harmony  was  foreshadowed  perhaps  in  the  earliest 
writing.  We  know  at  least  that  as  early  as  the  12th 
centur}"-  counterpoint  began  to  show  a  vigorous  life,  and 
the  study,  of  it  is  now  a  familiar  branch  of  musical 
science.  Now,  inasmuch  as  "  Nature's  own  hymn  "  is  and 
must  be  the  harmonic  blending  of  apparently  independent 
and  apparently  discordant  notes,  among  the  arts  whose 
appeal  is  through  the  ear  that  which  can  achieve  counter- 
point must  perhaps  rank  as  a  pure  art  above  one  which 
cannot  achieve  it.  We  are  of  course  speaking  here  of 
metre  only.  We  have  not  time  to  inquire  whether  the 
counterpoint  of  absolute  poetry  is  the  harmony  underlying 
apparently  discordant  emotions — the  emotion  produced  by 
a  word  being  more  persistent  than  the  emotion  produced 
by  an  inarticulate  sound. 

But  if  poetry  falls  behind  music  in  rhythmic  scope,  it  is 
capable  of  rendering  emotion  after  emotion  has  become 
disintegrated  into  thoughts,  and  here,  as  we  have  seen, 
it  enters  into  direct  competition  with  the  art  of  prose.  It 
can  use  the  emphasis  of  sound,  not  for  its  own  sake 
merely,  but  to  strengthen  the  emphasis  of  sense,  and  can 
*".us  give  a  fuller  and  more  adequate  expression  to  the 
fioul  of  man  than  music  at  its  highest  can  give.  With 
regard  to  prose,  no  doubt  such  writing  as  Plato's  descrip- 
tion of  the  chariot  of  the  soul,  his  description  of  the  island 
of  Atlantis,  or  of  Er's  visit  to  the  place  of  departed  souls, 
comes  but  a  short  way  behind  poetry  in  imaginative  and 
even  in  rhythmic  appeal.  It  is  impossible,  however,  here 
to  do  more  than  touch  upon  the  subject  of  the  rhythm  of 
prose  in  its  relation  to  the  rhythm  of  poetry ;  for  in  this 
matter  the  genius  of  each  individual  language  has  to  be 
taken  into  account. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  said  that  deeper  than  all  the  rhythms 
of  art  is  that  rhythm  wliich  art  would  fain  catch,  the 
rhythm  of  nature  ;  for  the  rhythm  of  nature  is  the  rhythm 


of  life  itself.  This  rhythm  can  be  caught  by  prose  as  well 
as  by  poetry,  such  prose,  for  instance,  as  that  of  the 
English  Bible.  Certainly  the  rhythm  of  verse  at  its 
highest,  such,  for  instance,  as  that  of  Shakespeare's 
greatest  writings,  is  nothing  more  and  nothing  less  than 
the  metre  of  that  energy  of  the  spirit  which  surges  within 
the  bosom  of  him  who  speaks,  whether  he  speak  in  verse 
or  in  impassioned  prose.  Being  rhythm,  it  is  of  course 
governed  by  law,  but  it  is  a  law  which  transcends  in 
subtlety  the  conscious-  art  of  the  metricist,  and  is  only 
caught  by  the  poet  in  his  most  inspired  moods,  a  law 
which,  being  part  of  nature's  own  sanctions,  can  of  course 
never  be  formulated  but  only  expressed,  as  it  is  expressed 
in  the  melody  of  the  bird,  in  the  inscrutable  harmony  of 
the  entire  bird-chorus  of  a  thicket,  in  the  whisper  of  the 
leaves  of  the  tree,  and  in  the  song  or  wail  of  wind  and  sea. 
Now  is  not  this  rhythm  of  nature  represented  by  that 
"  sense  rhythfn  "  which  prose  can  catch  as  well  as  poetry, 
that  sense  rhythm  whose  finest  expressions  are  to  be  found 
in  the  Bible,  Hebrew  arid  English,  and  in  the  Biblical 
movements  of  the  English  Prayer  Book,  and  in  the  dramatic 
prose  of  Shakespeare  at  its  best?  Whether  it  is  caught 
by  prose  or  by  verse,  one  of  the  virtues  of  the  rhythm  of 
nature  is  that  it  is  translatable.  Hamlet's  peroration  about 
man  and  Raleigh's  apostrophe  to  death  are  as  translatable 
into  other  languages  as  are  the  Hebrew  psalms,  or  as  is 
Manu's  magnificent  passage  about  the  singleness  of  man 
(we  quote  from  memory) :  — 

"  Single  13  each  man  born  into  the  world  ;  single  he  dies  ; -single 
he  receives  the  reward  of  his  good  deeds,  and  single  the  punishment 
of  his  evil  deeds.  When  he  dies  his  body  lies  like  a  fallen  tree  upon 
the  earth,  but  his  virtue  accompanies  his  soul.  Wherefore  let  man 
harvest  and  garner  virtue,  so  that  he  may  have  an  inseparable  com- 
panion in  traversing  that  gloom  which  is  so  hard  to  be  traversed." 

Here  the  rhythm,  being  the  inevitable  movement  of 
emotion  and  "sense,"  can  be  caught  and  transla,ted  by 
every  literature  under  the  sun.  While,  however,  the  great 
goal  before  the  poet  is  to  compel  the  listener  to  expect  his 
caesuric  effects,  the  great  goal  before  the  writer  of  poetic 
prose  is  in  the  very  opposite  direction ;  it  is  to  make  use 
of  the  concrete  figures  and  impassioned  diction  of  the  poet, 
but  at  the  same  time  to  avoid  the  recognized  and  expected 
metrical  bars  upon  which  the  poet  depends.  The  moment 
the  prose  poet  passes  from  the  rhythm  of  prose  to  tfte 
rhythm  of  metre  the  apparent  sincerity  of  his  writing  is 
destroyed. 

And  now  how  stands  poetry  with  regard  to  the  plastic  to 
arts  1  This  is  in  truth  a  vast  subject,  and  has  given  birth  ""^ 
to  an  infinitude  of  eloquent  criticism  in  the  present  century. 
It  cannot  be  expected  that  we  should  be  able  to  discuss  it 
adequately  here.  Yet  this,  too,  must  be  glanced  at.  On 
the  one  side  poetry  is  inferior  to  the  plastic  arts ;  on 
another  side  it  is  superior  to  them. 

As  compared  with  sculpture  and  painting  the  great 
infirmity  of  poetry,  as  an  "imitation  "  of  nature,  is  of  course 
that  the  medium  is  always  and  of  necessity  words — even 
when  no  words  could,  in  the  dramatic  situation,  have  beSn 
spoken.  It  is  not  only  Homer  who  is  obliged  sonJetimes  to 
forget  that  passion  when  at  white  heat  is  never  voluble,  is 
scarcely  even  articulate ;  the  dramatists  also  are  obliged 
to  forget  that  in  love  and  in  hate,  at  their  tensest,  words 
seem  weak  and  foolish  when  compared  with  the  silent  and 
satisfying  triumph  and  glory  of  deeds,  such  as  the  plastic 
arts,  can  render.  This  becomes  manifest  enough  when  we 
compare  the  Niobe  group  or  the  Laocoon  group,  or  the 
great  dramatic  paintings  of  the  modern  world,  with  even 
the  finest  efforts  of  dramatic  poetry,  such  as  the  speech*  of 
Andromache  to  Hector,  or  the  speech  of  Priam  to  Achilles, 
nay  such  as  even  the  cries  of  Cassandra  in  the  Agamemnon,, 
or  the  wailings  of  Lear  over  the  dead  Cordelia.  Even  when 
writing  the  words  uttered  by  CEdii)us,  as  the  terrible  truth 


« 


pla* 
art 


POETRY 


263 


Ireaks  in  upon  his  soul,  Sophocles  must  have  felt  that,  in  the 
holiest  chambers  of  sorrow  and  in  the  highest  agonies  of 
sutiering  reigns  that  awful  silence  which  not  poetry,  but 
painting  sometimes,  and  sculpture  always,  can  render. 
What  human  sounds  could  render  the  agony  of  Niobe, 
or  the  agony  of  Laocoon,  as  we  see  them  in  the  sculptor's 
rendering  1  Not  articulate  speech  at  all ;  not  words  but 
wails.  It  is  the  same  with  hate ;  it  is  the  same  with  love. 
We  are  not  speaking  merely  of  the  unpacking  of  the  heart 
in  which  the  angry  warriors  of  the  Iliad  indulge.  Even 
such  subtle  writing  as  that  of  jEschylus  and  Sophocles 
falls  below  the  work  of  the  painter.  Hate,  though  voluble 
perhaps,  as  Clytaamnestra's  when  hate  is  at  that  red-heat 
glow  which  the  poet  can  render,  changes  in  a  moment 
whenever  that  redness  has  been  fanned  to  hatred's  own 
last  complexion — whiteness  as  of  iron  at  the  melting- 
point, — when  the  heart  has  grown  far  too  big  to  be 
"unpacked"  at  all,  and  even  the  bitter  epigrams  of  hate's 
own  rhetoric,  though  brief  as  the  terrier's  snap  before  he 
fleshes  his  teeth,  or  as  the  short  snarl  of  the  tigress  as  she 
springs  before  her  cubs  in  danger,  are  all  too  slow  and 
sluggish  for  a  soul  to  which  language  at  its  tensest  has 
become  idle  play.  But  this  is"  just  what  cannot  be  ren- 
dered by  an  art  whose  medium  consists  solely  of  words. 

It  is  in  giving  voice,  not  to  emotion  at  its  tensest,  but 
to  the  variations  of  emotion,  it  is  in  expressing  the  count- 
less shifting  movements  of  the  soul  from  passion  to 
passion,  that  poetry  shows  in  spite  of  all  her  infirmities 
her  superiority  to  the  plastic  arts.  Hamlet  and  the 
Agamemnon,  the  Iliad  and  the  (Edipus  Tyrannus,  are 
adequate  to  the  entire  breadth  and  depth  of  man's  soul. 

Poetic  Imagination. — We  have  now  reached  our  last 
general  inquiry— What  varieties  of  poetic  art  are  the 
outcome  of  the  two  kinds  of  poetic  impulse,  dramatic 
imagination  and  lyric  or  egoistic  imagination  1  It  would 
of  course  be  impossible  within  the  space  at  our  command  to 
examine  fully  the  subject  of  poetic  imagination.  For  in 
order  to  do  so  -we  should  have  to  enter  upon  the  vast 
question  of  the  effect  of  artistic  environment  upon  the 
development  of  man's  poetic  imagination;  wo  should 
have  k)  inquire  how  the  instinctive  methods  of  each  poet 
and  of  each  group  of  poets  have  been  modified  and  often 
governed  by  the  methods  characteristic  of  their  own  time 
and  country.  We  should  have  to  inquire,  for  instance, 
how  far  such  landscape  as  that  of  Sophocles  in  the  Oidipiia 
Colonexis  and  such  landscape  as  that  of  Wordsworth  depends 
upon  difference  of  individual  temperament,  and  how  far 
■Kstic  upon  difference  of  artistic  environment.  That,  iu  any 
'^f°°-  thorough  and  exhaustive  discussion  of  poetic  imagina- 
tion, the  question  of  artistic  environment  must  be  taken 
into  account,  the  case  of  the  Iliad  is  alone  sufficient 
to  show — a  case  that  will  at  once  occur  to  the  reader. 
Ages  before  Phrynichus,  ages  before  an  acted  drama  was 
dreamed  of,  a  dramatic  poet  of  the  first  order  arose,  and, 
though  he  was  obliged  to  express  his  splendid  dramatic 
imagination  through  epic  forms,  he  expressed  it  almost  as 
fully  as  if  he  had  inherited  the  method  and  the*  stage  of 
Sophocles.  And  if  Homer  never  lived  at  all,  then  an 
entire  group  of  dramatic  poets  arose  in  remote  times 
■whose  method  was  epic  instead  of  dramatic  simply  be- 
cause there  was  then  no  stage. 

This,  contrasted  with  the  fact  that  in  a  single  half- 
century  the  tragic  art  of  Greece  arose  with  yEschylus, 
culminated  with  Sophocles,  and  decayed  with  P^uripides, 
and  contrasted  also  with  the  fact  that  in  England  at  one 
time,  and  in  Spain  at  one  time,  almost  the  entire  poetic 
imagination  of  the  country  found  expression  in  the  acted 
drama  alone,  is  sufficient  to  show  that  a  poet's  artistic 
methods  are  very  largely  influenced  by  the  artistic  environ- 
ments of  his  country  and  time.     So  vast  a  subject  as  this, 


however,  is,  as  we  say,  quite  beyond  the  scope  of  any  essay 
like  this,  and  we  can  only  point  to  the  familiar  instance  of 
the  troubadours  and  the  trouvires  and  then  pass  on.* 

With  the  trouvfere  (the  poet  of  the  iangue  d'o'il)^  the 
story  or  situation  is  always  the  end  of  which  the  musical 
language  is  the  means;  with  the  troubadour  (the  poet  of 
the  langue  d'oc),  the  form  is  so  beloved,  the  musical 
language  so  enthralling,  that,  however  beautiful  may  be 
the  story  or  situation,  it  is  felt  to  be  no  more  than  the 
means  to  a  more  beloved  and  beautiful  end.  But  then 
nature  makes  her  own  troubadours  and  her  own  trouvferes 
irrespective  of  fashion  and  of  time — irrespective  of  langue 
d'oc  and  langue  d'o'il.  And,  in-  comparing  the  trouba- 
dours with  the  trouvke's,  this  is  what  strikes  us  at  once — - 
there  are  certain  troubadours  who  "by  temperament,  by 
original,  endowment  of  nature,  ought  to  have  been  trou- 
vferes,  and  there  are  certain  trouvferes  who  by  temperament 
ought  to  have  been  troubadours.  Surrounding  conditions 
alone  have  made  them  what  they  are.  There  are  those 
whose  impulse  (though  writing  in  obedience  to  contem- 
porary fashions  lyrics  in  the  langue  d'oc)  is  manifestly  to 
narrate,  and  there  are  those  whose  impulse  (though  writing 
in  obedience  to  contemporary  fashions  fabliaiu  in  the 
langue  d'o'il)  is  simply  to  sing.  In  other  words,  there 
are  those  who,  though  writing  after  the  fashion  of  their 
brother-troubadours,  are  more  impressed  with  the  romance 
and  wonderfulness  of  the  human  life  outside  them  than 
with  the  romance  and  wonderfulness  of  their  own  passions, 
and  who  delight  in  depicting  the  external  world  in  any 
form  that  may  be  the  popular  form  of  their  time;  and 
there  are  those  who,  though  writing  after  ths  fashion  of  their 
brother-trouvferes,  are  far  more  occupied  with  the  life  within 
them  than  with  that  outer  life  which  the  taste  of  their  time 
and  country  calls  upon  them  to  paint — born  rhythmists 
who  must  sing,  who  translate  everything  external  as  well 
as  internal  into  verbal  melody.  Of  the  former  class 
Pierre  Vidal  of  the  latter  class  the  author  of  "  Le  Lay 
de  rOiselet,  "  say  be  taken  as  the  respective  types. 

That  the  same  forces  are  seen  at  work  in  all  literatures 
few  students  of  poetry  will  deny, — though  in  some  poetical 
groups  these  forces  are  no  doubt  more  potent  than  in 
others,  as,  for  instance,  with  the  great  parable  poets  of 
Persia,  in  some  of  whom  there  is  perpetually  apparent  a 
Conflict  between  the  dominaxice  of  the  Oriental  taste  for 
allegory  and  subtle  suggestion,  as  expressed  in  the  Zoro- 
astrian  definition  of  poetry, — "apparent  pictures  of  un- 
apparent  realities," — and  the  opposite  yearning  to  represent 
human  life  with  the  freshness  and  natural  freedom  charac- 
teristic of  Western  poetry. 

Allowing,  however,  for  all  the  potency  of  externa! 
influences,  we  shall  not  bo  wrong  in  saying  that  of  poetic 
imagination  there  are  two  distinct  kinds — (1)  the  kind  of 
poetic  imagination  seen  at  its  highest  in  yEscliylua, 
Sophocles,  Shakespeare,  and  Homer,  and  (2)  the  kind  of 
poetic  imagination  seen  at  its  highest  in  Pindar,  Dante, 
and  Milton,  or  else  in  Sappho,  Heine,  and  Shelley.  The 
former,  being  in  its  highest  dramatic  exercise  uncondi- 
tioned by  the  personal  or  lyrical  impulse  of  the  poet,  might 
perhaps  be  called  absolute  dramatic  vision;  the  latter, 
being  more  or  less  conditioned  by  the  personal  or  lyrical 
impulse  of  the  poet,  might  bo  called  relative  dramatic 
vision.  It  seems  impossible  to  classify  poets,  or  to  classify 
the  different  varieties  of  poetry,  without  drawing  some 
such  distinction  as  this,  whatever  words  of  definition  we 
may  choose  to  adopt. 

For  the  achievement  of  all  pure  lyric  poetry,  such  a.s  the 
ode,  the  song,  the  clogy,  the  idyl,  the  ."sonnet,  the  storntiio, 
it  is  evident  that  the  imaginative  force  we  have  called 
relative  vision  will  suffice.  And  if  we  coniiider  the  matter 
thoroughly,   in   many  other    forms  sf   jiottir    art — forms 


2G4 


POETRY 


■wliich  at,  first  sight  miglit  seem  to  require  absolute  vision 
■ — we  shall  find  nothing  but  relative  vision  at  work. 

Even  in  Dante,  and  even  in  Milton  and  Virgil,  it 
might  be  difficult  to  trace  the  working  of  any  other  than 
^•elative  vision.  And  as  to  the  entire  body  of  Asiatic  poets 
it  might  perhaps  be  found  (even  in  view  of  the  Indian 
drama)  that  relative  vision  suffices  to  do  all  their  work. 
Indeed  the  temper  which  produces  true  drama  is,  it  might 
almost  be  said,  a  growth  of  the  Western  mind.  For, 
unless  it  be  Semitic  as  seen  in  the  dramatic  narratives  of 
the  Bible,  or  Chinese  as  seen,  in  that  remarkable  prose 
story,  The  Two  Fair  Cousins,  translated  by  Kurausat, 
absolute  vision  seems  to  have  but  small  place  in  the 
literatures  of  Asia.  The  wonderfulness  of  the  world  and 
the  romantic  possibilities  of  fate,  or  circumstance,  or 
chance — not  the  wonderfulness  of  the  character  to  whom 
these  possibilities  befall — are  over  present  to  the  mind  of 
the  Asiatic  poet.  Even  in  so  late  a  writer  as  the  poet  of 
the  S/idh  y^dme/i,  the  hero  Irij,  the  hero  Zal,  and  the  hero 
Zohreb  are  in  character  the  same  person,  the  virtuous 
young  man  who  combines  the  courage  of  youth  with  the 
wisdom  and  forbearance  of  age.  And,  as  regards  the 
earlier  poets  of  Asia,  it  was  not  till  the  shadowy  demigods 
and  heroes  of  the  Asiatic  races  crossed  the  Caucasus,  and 
breathed  a  more  bracing  air,  that  they  became  really  indi- 
vidual characters.  But  among  the  many  qualities  of  man's 
mind  that  were  invigorated  and  rejuvenated  by  that  great 
exodus  from  the  dreamy  plains  of  Asia  is  to  be  counted, 
above  all  others,  his  poetic  imagination.  The  mere  sense 
of  wonder,  which  had  formerly  been  an  all-sufficing  source 
of  pleasure  to  him,  was  all-sufficing  no  longer.'  The 
wonderful  adventure  must  now  be  connected  with  a  real 
and  interesting  individual  character.  It  was  left  for  the 
poets  of  Europe  to  show  that,  given  the  interesting 
character,  given  the  Achilles,  the  Odysseus,  the  Helen,  the 
Priam,  any  adventure  happening  to  such  a  character 
becomes  interesting. 

What  then  is  this  absolute  vision,  this  true  dramatic 
imagination  which  can  hardly  be  found  in  Asia — which 
even  in  Europe  cannot  be  found  except  in  rare  cases? 
Between  relative  and  absolute  vision  the  difference  seems  to 
be  this,  that  the  former  only  enables  the  poet,  even  in  its 
very  highest  e.xercise,  to  make  his  own  individuality,  or  else 
humanity  as  represented  by  his  own  individuality,  live  in 
the  imagined  situation ;  the  latter  enables  him  in  its  highest 
exercise  to  make  special  individual  characters  other  than 
the  poet's  own  live  in  the  imagined  situation. 

"That  which  exists  in  nature,"  says  Hegel,  "is  a  some- 
thing purely  individual  and  particular.  Art  on  the  contrary 
is  essentially  destined  to  manifest  the  general."  And  no 
doubt  this  is  true  as  regards  the  plastic  arts,'  and  true  also 
as  regards  literary  art,  save  in  the  very  highest  reaches  of 
pure  drama  and  pure  lyricj  when  it  seems  to  become  art 
no  longer^-when  it  seems  to  become  the  very  voice  of 
l^ature  herself.  The  cry  of  Priam  when  he  puts  to  his 
lips  the  hand  that  slew  his  son  is  not  merely  the  cry  of  a 
bereaved  and  aged  i)arent ;  it  is  the  cry  of  the  individual 
king  of  Troy,  and  expresses  above  everything  else  that 
jndst  naif,  pathetic,  and  w'insome  character.  Put  the 
words  into  the  mouth  of  the  irascible  and  passionate  Lear 
and  they  would  be  entirely  out  of  keeping. 

It  may  be  said  then  that,  while  the  poet  of  relative 
vision,  even  in  its  very  highest  exercise,  can  only,  when 
depicting  the  external  world,  deal  with  the  general,  the 
poet  of  absolute  vision  can  compete  with  Nature  herself 
and  deal  with  both  general  and  particular.  Now  if  this  is 
really  so  we  may  perhaps  find  a  basis  for  a  classification 
of  poetry  and  of  poets.  That  all  poets  must  be  singers 
has  already'  been  maintained.  But  singers  seem  to  be 
divisible  into   three  classes  :— first  the  pure   lyrists,  each 


of  whom  can  with  his  one  voice  sing  .only  ono  lune ; 
secondly  the  epic  poety,  save  Homer,  the  bulk  of  the 
narrative  poets,  and  the  quasi-dramatists,  each  of  whom 
can  with  his  one  voice  sing  several  tunes  ;  and  thirdly 
the  true  dramatists,  who,  having,  like  the  iiic^htingale  of 
Gongora,  many  tongues,  can  sing  all  tunes. 

It  is  to  the  first-named  of  these  classes  that  mo>t  poets 
belong.  With  regard  to  the  second  class,  there  are  not 
of  course  many  poets  left  for  it :  die  first  absorbs  so 
many.  But,  when  we  come  to  consider  that  among  those 
who,  with  each  his  one  voice,  can  sing  many  tunes,  arc 
Pindar,  Firdausi,  Jami,  Virgil,  Dante,  !>Iilton,  Spenser, 
Goethe,  Byron,  Coleridge,  Shelley,  Keats,  Schiller,  Victor 
Hugo,  the  second  class  is  so  various  that  no  generalization 
save  such  a  broad  one  as  ours  could  embrace  its  members.' 
And  now  we  come  to  class  three,  and  must  pause.  The 
third  class  is  necessarily  very  small.  In  it  can  only  be 
placed  such  names  as  Shakespeare,  yEschylus,  Sophocles, 
Homer,  and  (hardly)  Chaucer. 

These  three  kinds  of  poets  reprcfcriit  three  totally 
different  kinds  of  poetic  activity. 

With  regard  to  the  first,  the  pure  lyribt^*,'  tJie  impulse 
is  pure  egoism.  JIany  of  them  have  less  of  even  relative 
vision  at  its  highest  than  the  mass  of  mankind.  They 
are  often  too  much  engaged  with  the  emotious  within  to 
have  any  deep  sympathy  with  the  life  around  them.' 
Of  every  poet  of  this  class  it  may  be  said  that  his  mind 
to  him  "  a  kingdom  is,"  and  that  the  smaller  the  poet  tlie 
bigger  to  him  is  that  kingdom.  To  make  use  of  a  homely 
imago — like  the  chaffinch  whose  eyes  have  been  pricked 
by  the  bird-fancier,  the  pure  lyrist  is  sometimes  a  warbler 
because  he  is  blind.  Still  he  feels  that  the  JIuse  loves 
him  exceedingly.  She  takes  away  his  eyesight,  but  she 
gives  him  sweet  song.  And  his  song  is  very  sweet,  very 
sad,  and  very  beautiful;  but  it  is  all  about  the  world  within 
his  own  soul — its  sorrows,  joys,  fears,  and  aspirations. 

With  regard  to  the  second  class  the  impulse  here  is  no 
doubt  a  kind  of  egoism  too ;  yet  the  poets  of  this  class  aro 
all  of  a  different  temper  from  the  pure  lyrists.  They  have 
a  wide  imagination  ;  but  it  is  still  relative,  still  egoistic. 
They  have  splendid  eyes,  but  eyes  .that  never  get  beyond 
seeing  general,  universal  humanity  (typified  by  them- 
selves) in  the  imagined  situation.  Not  even  to  these  is  it 
given  to  break  through  that  law  of  centrality  by  which 
every  "me"  feels  itself  to  be  the  central  "me" — the  only 
"me"  of  the  universe,  round  which  all  other  spurious 
"mes"  revolve.  This  "me"  of  theirs  they  can  transmute 
into  many  shapes,  but  they  cannot  create  other  "mcs,"— 
nay,  for  egoism,  some  of  them  scarcely  would  perhajie  if 
they  could. 

The  third  class,  the  true  dramatists,  whose  imimlsc  is 
the  simple  yearning  to  create  akin  to  that  which  made 
"the  great  Vishnu  yearn  to  create  a  world,"  are  "of 
imagination  all  compact," — so  much  so  tliat  when  at 
work  "the  divinity  "  which  lamblichus  speaks  of  "seizes 
for  the  time  the  soul  and  guides  it  as  he  will." 

The  distinction  between  the  pure  lyrists  and  the  other 
two  classes  of  poets  is  obvious  enough.  But  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  quasi-dramatists  and  the  pure  dramatists 
requires  a  word  of  explanation  before  we  proceed  to  touch 
upon  the  various  kinds  of  poetry  that  spring  from  the  exer- 
cise of  relative  and  absolute  vision.  Sometimes,  to  be  sure, 
the  vision  of  the  true  dramatists — the  greatest  dramatists 
— will  suddenly  become  narrowed  and  obscured,  as  in  tliat 
part  of  the  (Edipus  Tprcmniis  where  Sophocles  makes 
ffidipus  ignorant  of  what  every  one  in  Thebes  must  have 
kno'A-n,  the  murder  of  Laius.  And  again,  finely  as  So- 
phocles has  conceived  the  character  of  Eloctra,  ho  nmkcs 
her,  in  her  dispute  with  Cliry.sothcmis,  give  cxfirussion  to 
sentiments  that,  in  another  play  of  his  own,  come  far  mom 


P  O  E  1'  R  Y 


265 


appropriately  from  the  kfty  character  of  Antigone  in  a 
parallel  dispute  with  Istaene.  And,  on  the  other  band, 
examples  of  relative  vision,  in  its  furthest  reaches,  can  be 
found  in  abundance  everywhere,  especially  in  Virgil,  Dante, 
Calderon,  and  MUton  ;  but  in  our  limited  space  we  can 
give  but  two  or  three.  Some  of  the  most  remarkable 
examples  of  that  high  kind  of  relative  vision  which  may 
easily  be  mistaken  for  absolute  vision  may  be  found  in 
those  great  prose  epics  of  the  North  which  Aristotle  would 
have  called  poems.  Here  is  one  from  the  Vdlsunga  Saga. 
While  the  brothers  of  Gudrun  are  about  their  treacherous 
business  of  murdering  Sigurd,  her  husband,  as  he  lies  asleep 
in  her  arms,  Brynhild,  Sigurd's  foi-mer  love,  who  in  the 
frenzy  of  "love  turned  to  hate"  his  instigated  the  mur- 
derers to  the  deed,  hovers  outside  the  chamber  with  Gunnar, 
her  husband,  and  listens  to  the  wail  ot  her  rival  who  is 
weltering  in  Sigurd's  blood.  At  the  sound  of  that  wail 
Brynhild  laughs 

"  Then  said  Gunnar  to  her,  Thou  laughest  not  because  thy  heart 
roots  are  glaJded,  or  else  why  doth  thy  visage  wax  so  wan  ? "  ' 

This  is  of  course  very  fine ;  but,  as  any  two  characters 
in  that  dramatic  situation  might  have  done  that  dramatic 
business,  fine  as  it  is, — as  the  sagaman  gives  us  the  general 
and  not  the  particular, — the  vision  at  work  is  not  absolute 
but  relative  at  its  very  highest  exercise.  But  our  example.s 
will  be  more  intere'sting  if  taken  from  English  poets.  In 
Coleridge's  "  Ancient  Mariner"  we  find  an  immense  amount 
of  relative  vision  of  so  high  a  kind  that  at  first  it  seems 
absolute  vision.  When  the  ancient  mariner,  in  his  narra- 
tive to  the  wedding  guest,  reaches  the  slaying  of  the 
albatross,  he  stops,  he  can  proceed  no  further,  and  the 
wedding  guest  exclaims  — 

"God  save  thee,  Ancient  llariner, 

From  the  fiends  that  plajjue  thee  thus  ! 
Why  look'st  thou  so  ? "     "With  my  cross-bow 

I  shot  tlie  albatross." 

But  there  are  instances  of  relative  vision — especially  in 
the  great  master  of  absolute  vision,  Shakespeare— which 
are  higher  still, — so  high  indeed  that  not  to  relegate  them 
to  absolute  vision  seems  at  first  sight  pedantic.  Such  an 
example  is  the  famous  speech  of  Lady  Macbeth  in  the 
second  act,  where  she  says — 

"  Had  he  not  resembled 
My  father  as  he  slept,  I  had  done  't." 

Marvellously  subtle  as  is  this  speech,  it  will  be  found, 
if  analysed,  that  it  expresses  the  general  human  soul  ralher 
than  any  one  special  human  soul.  Indeed  Leigh  Hunt 
records  the  caae  of  a  bargeman  who,  charged  with  robbing  a 
sleeping  traveller  in  his  barge,  used  in  his  confession  almost 
identical  words — "Had  he  not  looked  like  my  fathsr  as 
he  slept,  I  should  have  killed  as  well  as  robbed  him." 
Again,  the  thousand  and  one  cases  (to  be  found  in  every 
literature)  where  a  character,  overwhelmed  by  some  sudden 
surprise  or  terror,  asks  whether  the  action  going  on  is  that 
of  a  dream  or  of  real  life,  must  all,  on  severe  analysis, 
be  classed  under  relative  rather  than  under  absolute  vision, 
— even  such  a  fine  speech,  for  instance,  as  that  where 
Pericles,  on  discovering  Marina,  exclaims — 

"  This  is  the  rarcat  dream  that  o'er  dull  sleep 
Did  mock  aad  fools  withal ;" 

or  as  that  in  the  third  act  of  Tiln.i  Andronxcus,  where 
Titus,  beholding  his  mutilated  and  ruined  daughter, 
asks — 

"  When  will  this  fearful  slumber  have  an  end  t " 

aven  here,  we  say,  the  humanity  rendered  is  general  and 
not  particular,  the  vision  at  work  is  relative  and  not 
absolute.  The  poet,  as  representing  the  whole  human 
race,  throwing  himself  into  the  imagined  situation,  gives 
us  what  general  humanity  would  have  thought,  felt,  said, 

>  Traiislatiou  of  Morria  oud  MagnusMon. 


or  done  in  that  situation,  not  what  one  jiarticular  indi- 
vidual and  he  alone  would  have  thought,  felt,  said,  or  done. 

Now  what  we  have  called  absolute  vision  operates  in  a 
very  different  way.  So  vividly  is  the  poet's  mere  creative 
instinct  at  work  that  the  (go  sinks  into  passivity — becomes 
insensitive  to  all  impressions  other  than  those  dictated 
by  the  vision — by  the  "  divinity  "  which  has  "  seized  the 
souL" 

We  have  left  ourselves  little  room  for  examples ;  but 
Shakespeare  is  full  of  them. 

Take  the  scene  in  the  first  act  of  Haniltt>.  where  Hamlet 
hears  for  the  first  time,  from  Horatio,  that  his  father's 
ghost  haunts  the  castle.  Having  by  short  sharp  questions 
elicited  the  salient  facts  attending  the  apparition,  Hamlet 
says,  "  I  would  I  had  been  there."  To  this  Horatio 
makes  the  very  commonplace  reply,  "  It  would  have  much 
amazed  you."  Note  the  marvellously  dramatic  reply  of 
Hamlet — "Very  like,  very  like  !  Stayed  it  long  1"  Sup- 
pose that  this  dialogue  had  been  attempted  by  any  other 
poet  than  a  true  dramatist,  or  by  a  true  draroatist  in  any 
other  mood  than  his  very  highest,  Hamlet,  on  hearing 
Horatio's  commonplace  remarks  upon  phenomena  which 
to  Hamlet  were  more  subversive  of  the  very  order  of  the 
imi  verse  than  if  a  dozen  stars  had  fallen  from  their  courses, 
would  have  burst  out  with — "  Amazed  me  !"  and  then 
would  have  followed  an  eloquent  declamation  about  the 
"amazing  "  nature  of  the  phenomena  and  their  effect  upon 
him.  But  so  entirely  has  the  poet  become  Hamlet,  so 
completely  has  "  the  divinity  seized  his  soul,"  that  all 
language  seems  equally  weak  for  expressing  the  turbulence 
within  the  soul  of  the  character,  and  Hamlet  exclaims  in 
a  sort  of  meditative  irony,  "Very  like,  very  like!"  It  is 
exactly  this  one  man  Hamlet,  and  no  other  man,  who  in 
this  situation  would  have  so  expressed  himself.  Charles 
Knight  has  some  pertinent  remarks  upon  this  speech  of 
Hamlet ;  yet  he  misses  its  true  value,  and  treats  it  from 
the  general  rather  than  from  the  particular  side.  Instances 
of  absolute  vision  in  Shakspeare  crowd  upon  us  ;  but  we 
can  find  room  for  only  one  other.  In  the  pathetic  speech 
of  Othello,  just  before  he  kills  himself,  ho  declares  himself 
to  be — 

"  One  not  easily  jealous,  but,  being  wrought. 
Perplexed  in  the  extreme." 

Consider  the  marvellous  timbre  of  the  word  "  wrought," 
as  coming  from  a  character  like  Othello.  When  writing 
this  passage,  especially  when  writing  this  word,  the  poet 
had  become  entirely  the  simple  English  soldier-hero,  as  the 
Moor  really  is— he  had  .become  Othello,  looking  upon 
himself  "as  not  easily  jealous,"  whereas  ho  was  "  wrought" 
and  "  perplexed  in  the  extreme  "  by  tricks  which  Hamlet 
would  have  seen  through  in  a  moment. 

While  all  other  forms  of  poetic  art  can  be  vitalized  by 
relative  vision,  there  are  two  forms  (and  those  the  greatest) 
in  which  absolute  vision  is  demanded,  viz.,  the  drama,< 
and  in  a  lesser  degree  the  Greek  epic,  especially  the  Iliad. 
This  will  bo  seen  more  plainly  perhaps  if  we  now  vary 
our  definitions  and  call  relative  vision  egoistic  imagina- 
tion, absolute  vision  dramatic  imagination. 

Drama  has  been  alreiuly  fully  treated  in  the  present 
work  (see  Dkama).  But  it  follows  from  what  has  been 
hero  said  that  very  much  of  the  dramatist's  work  can  bo, 
and  in  fact  is,  effected  by  egoistic  imagination,  while  truo 
dramatic  imagination  is  only  called  into  play  on  compara- 
tively rare  occasions.  Not  only  fine  but  sublime  dramatic 
poems  have  been  written,  however,  where  the  vitalizing 
power  has  been  entirely  that  of  lyrical  imagination.  We 
need  only  instance  the  Prometheus  Jiinnid  of  y1'"schylus, 
the  most  sublime  jiocm  in  the  world.  The  dramn.s  of 
Shelley  too,  like  those  of  Victor  Hugo  and  Calderon,  are 
informed  entirely  by  egoistic,  imagination.     In  all  these 

XJX.  —  34 


266 


POETRY 


splendid  poems  the  dramatist  places  himself  in  the  imagined 
situation,  or  at  most  he  places  there  some  typical  concep- 
tion of  universal  humanity.  There  is  not  in  all  Calderon 
any  such  display  of  dramatic  imagination  as  we  get  in 
that  wonderful  speech  of  Priam's  in  the  last  book  of  the 
Iliad  to  which  we  have  before  alluded.  There  is '  not  in 
the  Cenci  such  a  display  of  dramatic  imagination  as  we 
get  in  the  sudden  burst  of  anger  from  the  spoilt  child  of 
gods  and  men,  Achilles  (anger  which  alarms  the  hero  him- 
self as  much  as  it  alarms  Priam),  when  the  prattle  of  the 
old  man  has  carried  him  too  far.  It .  may  seem  bold  to 
say  that  the  drama  of  Goethe  is  informed  by  egoistic 
imagination  only, — assuredly  the  prison-scene  in  Faust  is 
unsurpassed  in  the  literatures  of  the  world.  Yet,  perhaps, 
it  could  be  shown  of  the  passion  and  the  pathos  of 
Gretchen  throughout  the  entire  play,  that  it  betrays  a 
female  character  general  and  typical  rather  than  individual 
and  particular. 

The  nature  of  this  absolute  vision  or  true  dramatic 
imaginatiott  is  easily  seen  if  we  compare  the  dramatic 
work  of  writers  without  absolute  vision,  such  as  Cal- 
deron, Goethe,  Ben  Jonson,  Fletcher,  and  others,  with 
the  dramatic  work  of  .(Eschylus  and  of  Shakespeare. 
While  of  the  former  group  it  may  be  said  that  each  poet 
skilfully  works,  his  imagination,  of  ^schylus  and  Shake- 
speare it  must  be  said  that  each  in  his  highest  dramatic 
mood  does  not  work,  but  is  worked  by  his  imagination. 
Note,  for  instance,  how  the  character  of  Clytaemnestra 
grows  and  glows  under  the  hand  of  jEschylus.  The  poet 
of  the  Odyssei/  had  distinctly  said  that  ^gisthus,  her 
paramour,  had  struck  the  blow,  but  the  dramatist,  having 
imagined  the  greatest  tragic  female  in  all  poetry,  finds  it 
impossible  to  let  a  man  like  ^gisthus  assist  such  a  woman 
in  a  homicide  so  daring  and  so  momentous.  And  when 
in  that  terrible  speech  of  hers  she  justifies  her  crime 
(ostensibly  to  the  outer  world,  but  really  to  her  own 
conscience),  the  way  in  which,  by  the  sheer  magnetism 
of  irresistible  personality,  she  draws  our  sympathy  to  her- 
self and  her  crime  is  unrivalled  out  of  Shakespeare  and 
not  surpassed  even  there.  In  the  Great  Drama,  in  the 
Agamemnon,  in  Othello,  in  Hamlet,  in  Macbeth,  there  is 
an  imagination  at  work  whose  laws  are  inexorable,  are 
inevitable,  as  the  laws  by  the  operation  of  which  the 
planets  move  around  the  sun.  But  in  this  essay  our 
business  with  drama  is  confined  entirely  to  its  relations  to 
epic. 
Epic  aod  Considering  how  large  and  on  the  whole  how  good  is 
drama  the  body  of  modern  criticism  upon  drama,  it  is  surprising 
how  poor  is  the  modern  criticism  upon  epic.  Aristotle, 
comparing  tragedy  with  er^ic,  gives  the  palm  to  tragedy 
as  being  the  more  perfect  art,  and  nothing  can  be  more 
ingenious  than  the  way  in  which  he  has  marshalled  his 
reasons.  He  tells  us  that  tragedy  as  well  as  epic  is  capable 
of  producing  its  effect  even  without  action ;  we  can  judge 
of  it  perfectly,  says  he,  by  reading.  He  goes  so  far  as  to 
say  that,  even  in  reading  as  well  as  in  representation, 
tragedy  has  an  advantage  over  the  epic,  the  advantage  of 
greater  clearness  and  distinctness  of  impression.  And  in 
some  measure  this  was  perhaps  true  of  Greek  tragedy,  for 
as  Miiller  in  his  Dissertations  on  the  Eumenides  has  well 
said,  the  ancients  always  remained  and  wished  to  remain 
conscious  that  the  whole  was  a  Dionysian  entertainment ; 
the  quest  of  a  common-place  airaTTj  came  afterwards.  And 
even  of  Romantic  Drama  it  may  be  said  that  in  the  time 
of  Shakespeare,  and  indeed  down  through  the  18th  century, 
it  never  lost  entirely  its  character  of  a  recitation  as  well 
as  a  drama.  It  was  not  till  melodrama  began  to  be  recog- 
nized as  a  legitimate  form  of  dramatic  art  that  the  dialogue 
had  to  be  struck  from  the  dramatic  action  "at  full  speed" 
--•struck  like   sparks   from   the   roadster's   shoes.      The 


com- 
pared. 


truth  is,  however,  that  it  was  idle  for  Aristotle  to  inquire 
which  is  the  more  important  branch  of  poetry,  epic  or 
tragedy. 

Equally  idle  would  it  be  for  the  modern  critic  to  inquire 
how  much  romantic  drama  gained  and  how  much  it  lost 
by  abandoning  the  chorus.  Much  has  been  said  as  to  the 
scope  and  the  limits  of  epic  and  dramatic  poetry.  If  in 
epic  the  poet  has  the  power  to  take  the  imagination  of 
his  audience  away  from  the  dramatic  centre  and  show 
what  is  going  on  at  the  other  end  of  the  great  web  of  the 
world,  he  can  do  the  same  thing  in  drama  by  the  chorus, 
and  also  by  the  introduction  into  the  dramatic  circle  of 
messengers  and  others  from  the  outside  world. 

But,  as  regards  epic  poetry,  is  it  right  that  we  should 
hear,  as  we  sometimes  do  hear,  the  voice  of  the  poet  him- 
self as  chorus  bidding  us  contrast  the  present  picture  with 
other  pictures  afar  off,  in  order  to  enforce  its  teaching  and 
illustrate  its  pathos  ?  This  is  a  favourite  method  with 
modern  poets  and  a  stLU  more  favourite  one  with  prose 
narrators.  Does  it  not  give  an  air  of  self-consciousness  to 
poetry  ?  Does  it  not  disturb  the  intensity  of  the  poetic 
vision?  Yet  it  has  the  sanction  of  Homer;  and  who  shall 
dare  to  challenge  the  methods  of  the  great  father  of  epic  ? 
An  instance  occurs  in  Iliad  v.  158,  where,  in  the  midst  of 
all  the  stress  of  fight,  the  poet  leaves  the  dramatic  action  to 
tell  us  what  became  of  the  inheritance  of  Phoenops,  after 
his  two  sons  had  been  slain  by  Diomedes.  Another  instance 
occurs  in  iii,  243-4,  where  the  poet,  after  Helen's  pathetic 
mention  of  her  brothers,  comments  on  the  causes  of  their 
absence,  "criticizes  life"  in  the  approved  modern  way, 
generalizes  upon  the  impotence  of  human  intelligence — 
the  impotence  even  of  human  love — to  pierce  the  darkness 
in  which  the  web  of  human  fate  is  'Nvoven.  Thus  she 
spoke  (the  poet  tells  us);  but  the  life-giving  earth  already 
possessed  them,  there  in  Lacedsemon,  in  their  dear  native 
land  : — 

&s  ^OTO*  70VS  S'  ^Stj  Kanx^v  ipvtrt(oos  ata 
iv  AaKi^atfMoyi  audi,  <p[\rj  iv  warpiSi  7«fp. 

This  of  course  is  "beautiful  exceedingly,"  but,  inasmuch 
as  the  imagination  at  work  is  egoistic  or  lyrical,  not  dra- 
matic, inasmuch  as  the  vision  is  relative  not  absolute,  it 
does  not  represent  that  epic  strength  at  its  very  highest 
which  we  call  specially  "  Homeric,"  unless  indeed  we 
remember  that  with  IJomer  the  Muses  are  omniscient: 
this  certainly  may  give  the  passage  a  deep  dramatic  value 
it  otherwise  seems  to  lack. 

The  deepest  of  all  the  distinctions  between  dramatic 
and  epic  methods  has  relation,  however,  to  the  nature  of 
the  dialogue.  Aristotle  failed  to  point  it  out,  and  this  is 
remarkable  until  we  remember  that  his  work  is  but  a  frag- 
ment of  a  great  system  of  criticism.  In  epic  poetry,  and 
in  all  poetry  that  narrates,  whether  the  poet  be  Homer, 
Chaucer,  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  Gottfried  von  Strasburg, 
or  Turoldus,  the  action,  of  course,  moves  by  aid  partly  of 
narrative  and  partly  by  aid  of  dialogue,  but  in  drama  the 
dialogue  has  a  quality  of  suggestiveness  and  subtle  inference 
which  we  do  not  expect  to  find  in  any  other  poetic  form 
save  perhaps  that  of  the  purely  dramatic  ballad.  In  ancient 
drama  this  quality  of  suggestiveness  and  subtle  inference 
is  seen  not  only  in  the  dialogue,  but  in  the  choral  odes. 
The  third  ode  of  the  Agamemnon  is  an  extreme  case  in 
point,  where,  by  a  kind  of  double  entendre,  the  relations  of 
Clytaemnestra  and  vEgisthus  are  darkly  alluded  to  under 
cover  of  allusions  to  Paris  and  Helen.  Of  this  dramatic 
subtlety  Sophocles  is  perhaps  the  greatest  master;  and 
certain  critics  have  been  led  to  speak  as  though  irony  were 
heart-thought  of  Sophoclean  drama.  But  the  suggestive- 
ness of  Sophocles  is  pathetic  (as  Prof.  Lewis  Campbell 
has  well  pointed  out)  not  ironical.  This  is  one  reason 
why  drama  more  than  epic  seems  to  satisfy  the  mere  iutek 


POETRY 


267 


lect  of  the  reader,' though  this  may  be  counterbalanced  by 
the  hardness  of  mechanical  structure  ■n-hich  sometimes  dis- 
turljs  the  reader's  imagination  in  tragedy. 

When,  for  instance,  a  dramatist  paj's  so  much  attention 
to  the  evolution  of  the  plot  as  Sophocles  does,  it  is  inevit- 
able that  his  characters  should  be  more  or  less  plot-ridden  ; 
they  have  to  say  and  do  now  and  then  certain  things  which 
they  would  not  say  and  do  but  for  the  exigencies  of  the 
plot.  Indeed  one  of  the  advantages  which  epic  certainly 
has  over  drama  is  that  the  story  can  be  made  to  move  as 
rapidly  as  the  poet  may  desire  without  these  mechanical 
modifications  of  character. 

The  only  kind  of  epic  for  Aristotle  to  consider  was 
Greek  epic,  between  which  and  all  other  epic  the  difference 
is  one  of  kind,  if  the  Iliad  alone  is  taken  to  represent 
Greek  epic.  In  speaking  of  the  effect  that  surrounding 
conditions  seem  to  have  upon  the  form  in  which  the  poetic 
energy  of  any  time  or  country  should  express  itself,  we 
instanced  the  Jliad  as  a  typical  case.  The  imagination 
vivifying  it  is  mainly  dramatic.  The  characters  represent 
much  more  than  the  mere  variety  of  mood  of  the  delineator. 
Notwithstanding  all  the  splendid  works  of  Calderon,  ^lar- 
lowe,  Webster,  and  Goethe,  it  is  doubtful  whether  as  a 
Born  dramatist  the  poet  of  the  Iliad  does  not  come  nearer 
to  .(Eschylus  and  Shakespeare  than  does  any  other  poet. 
His  passion  for  making  the  heroes  speak  for  themselves  is 
almost  a  fault  in  the  Iliad  considered  as  pure  epic,  and  the 
unconscious  way  in  which  each  actor  is  made  to  depict 
his  own  character  is  in  the  highest  spirit  of  drama.  It 
is  owing  to  this  sjsecic.lity  of  the  Iliad  tliat  it  stands  apart 
from  all  other  epic  save  that  of  the  Odyssey,  where,  how- 
ever, the  dramatic  vision  is  less  vivid.  It  is  owing  to  the 
dramatic  imagination  disyilayed  in  the  Hind  that  it  is 
impossible  to  say,  from  internal  evidence,  whether  the 
poem  is  to  be  classified  with  the  epics  of  growtli  or  with 
the  epics  of  art.  All  epics  are  clearly  divisible  into  two 
classes,  first  those  which  are  a  mere  accretion  of  poems  or 
traditionary  ballads,  and  second,  those  which,  though  based 
indeed  on  tradition  or  history,  have' become  so  fused  in  the 
mind  of  one  great  poet,  so  stained,  therefore,  with  the  colour 
and  temper  of  that  mind,  as  to  become  new  crystallizations 
— inventions,  in  short,  as  wo  understand  that  word.  Each 
kind  of  epic  has  excellencies  peculiar  to  itself,  accompanied 
by  peculiar  and  indeed  necessary  defects.  In  the  one  we 
get  the  freedom — apparently  schemeless  and  motiveless — 
of  natiu-e,  but,  as  a  consequence,  miss  that  "  hard  acorn 
of  thought "  (to  use  the  picturesque  definition  in  the 
Volsim^a  Saga  of  the  heart  of  a  man)  which  the  mind  asks 
for  as  the  core  of  every  work  of  art.  In  the  other  this 
great  requisite  of  an  adequate  central  thought  is  found, 
but  accompanied  by  a  constriction,  a  lack  of  freedom,  a 
cold  artificiality,  the  obtrusion  of  a  jiedantic  scheme,  which 
would  bo  intolerable  to  the  natural  mind  unsophisticated 
by  literary  study.  The  flow  of  the  one  is  as  that  of  a  river, 
the  flow  of  the  other  as  that  of  a  canal.  Yet,  as  has  been 
already  hinted,  though  the  great  charm  of  Nature  herself 
is  that  she  never  teases  us  with  any  obtrusive  exhibitions 
of  scheme,  she  doubtless  has  a  scheme  somewhere,  she  docs 
somewhere  hide  a  "  hard  acorn  of  thought"  of  which  the 
poem  of  the  universe  is  the  expanded  expression.  And, 
this  being  so,  art  should  have  a  scheme  too ;  but  in  such 
a  dilemma  is  she  placed  in  this  matter  that  the  tjiic  poet, 
unless  ho  is  evidently  telling  the  slorj'  for  its  own  sake, 
ecornful  of  purposes  ethic  or  esthetic,  must  sacrifice 
illusion. 

Among  the  former  class  of  epics  are  to  bo  placed  the 
great  epics  of  growth,  such  as  the  MahuhhnraUt,  tlio 
Nibbing  story,  itc. ;  among  the  latter  the  Odyssey,  the 
ySneid,  Paradise  Lost,  the  d'erusalemme  Liberata,  the 
Lusiadits. 


But  where  in  this  classification  are  we  to  find  a  place  for 
the  Iliad?  The  heart-thought  of  the  greatest  epic  in  all 
literature  is  simply  that  Achilles  was  vexed  and  that  the 
fortunes  of  the  world' depended  upon  the  rtliim  of  a  sulky 
hero.  Yet,  notwithstanding  all  the  acute  criticisms  of 
Wolff,  it  remains  difficult  for  us  to  find  a  i)lace  for  tho 
Iliad  among  the  epics  of  growth.  And  whyl  Because 
throughout  the  Iliad  the  dramatic  imagination  shown  ia 
of  the  first  order ;  and,  if  we  are  to  suppose  a  multiplicity 
of  authors  for  the  poem,  we  must  also  suppose  that  ages 
before  the  time  of  Pericles  there  existed  a  group  of 
dramatists  more  nearly  akin  to  the  masters  of  the  gi'eat 
drama,  .(Eschylus,  Sophocles,  and  Shakespeare  than  any 
group  that  has  ever  existed  since.  Yet  it  is  equally 
difficult  to  find  a  place  for  it  amongst  the  epics  of  art. 
In  the  matter  of  artistic  motive  the  Odyssey  stands  ftlono 
among  the  epics  of  art  of  the  world,  as  we  are  going  to 
see. 

It  is  manifest  that,  as  the  pleasure  derived  from  the  epic  a  con< 
of  art  is  that  of  recognizing  a  conscious  scheme,  if  the  epic  scions 
of  art  fails  through  confusion  of  scheme  it  fails  altogether.  *<^''«'''« 
What  is  demanded  of  the  epic  of  art  (as  some  kind  of  com-  ^°',. .  _ 
pensation  for  that  natural  ireedora  of  evolution  which  it  nuiic.i  m 
can  never  achieve,  that  sweet  abandon  which  belongs  to  tlie  tm* 
nature  and  to  the  epic  of  growth  alike)  is  unity  of  im-  *!"''  "f 
pression,  harmonious  and  .symmetrical  dcveloi)nieut  of  a 
conscious  heart-thought,  or  motive.     This  being  so,  where 
are  we  to  place  the  yEneid,  and  where  are  we  to  place  the 
Shah  Ndmehl     Starting  with  the  intention,  as  it  seems,  of 
fusing  into  one  harmonious  whole  the  myths  and  legends 
upon  which  the  Roman  story  is  based,  Virgil,  by  the  time 
he  reaches  tho  middle  of  his  epic,  forgets  all  about  this 
primary  intent,  and   gives  us  his  own  thoughts  and  re- 
flexions on  things  in  general.     Fine  as  is  tho  si)eech  of 
Anchises  to  .^Eneas  in  Elysium  {^En.  vi.  721-755),  its 
incongruity   with    the    general    scheme    of    the    poem    as 
developed  in  the  previous  books  shows  how  entirely  Virgil 
lacked  that  artistic  power  shown  in  the  Odyssey  oi  making 
a  story  become  the  natural  and  inevitable  outcome  of  au 
artistic  idea. 

In  the  Shall  Ndmeh  there  is  the  artistic  redaction  of 
Virgil,  but  with  even  less  attention  to  a  central  thought 
than  Virgil  exhibits.  Firdausi  relies  for  his  effects  upon 
the  very  qualities  which  characterize  not  the  epic  of  art 
but  the  epic  of  growth — a  natural  and  not  an  artificial 
flow  of  the  story;  so  much  so  indeed  that,  if  the  Shalt 
Ndmeh  were  studied  in  connexion  with  the  Iliad  on  tho 
one  hand  and  with  the  Kalevala  on  the  other,  it  might 
throw  a  light  upon  the  way  in  which  an  epic  may  be  at 
one  and  the  same  time  an  aggregation  of  the  national 
ballad  poems  and  the  work  of  a  single  artificer.  That 
Firdausi  was  capable  of  working  fioin  a  centre  not  only 
artistic  but  [ihilosophic  his  Yusii/aiid  ZuUikha  shows;  anil 
if  we  consider  what  was  the  artistic  temper  of  tho  Persians 
in  Firdausi's  time,  what  indeed  has  been  tliat  temper 
during  the  whole  of  the  Mohammedan  period,  the  subtle 
temper  of  t!ic  parable  poet, — tho  Shah  Kdmth,  with  its 
direct  appeal  to  popular  svmpatbies,  is  a  standing  wonder 
in  poetic  literature. 

With  regard,  however,  to  Virgil's  defective  power  of 
working  from  an  artistic  motive,  as  compared  with  tho 
poet  of  the  Odyssey,  this  is  an  infirmity  ho  shares  with  all 
the  poets  of  the  Western  world.  Certainly  ho  shares  it 
with  tho  writer  of  Paradisi  Lo4,  who,  setting  out  to 
"justify  the  ways  of  God  to  man,"  forgets  occasionally  tho 
original  worker  of  tho  evil,  as  where,  for  instance,  he 
substitutes  chance  as  soon  as  he  comes  (at  tho  end  of  tho 
second  book)  to  tho  jioint  ujion  which  the  entire  ei  ic 
movement  turns,  the  escape  o\  Satan  from  hell  and  Ida 
.journe^V'  '<>  '-urth  fur  the  ruin  of  uiuu  ■  — 


268 


POETRY 


"  At  last  his  sail-brond  vans 
He  spreads  for  flight,  and,  in  the  surging  8010156 
Uplifted,  spurns  the  ground ;  thence  niaoy  r  league. 
As  in  a  cloudy  chair,  ascendiug  rides 
Audacious;  but,  that  seat  soon  failing,  meets 
A  vast  vacuity ;  all  unawares, 
Fluttering  his  pinions  vain,  plumb  down  he  drops 
Ten  thousand  fathoms  deep,  and  to  this  hpur 
Down  had  been  falling,  had  not,  by  ill  chanoe. 
The  strong  rebuff  of  some  tumultuous  cloud. 
Instinct  with  fire  and  nitre,  hurried  him 
As  many  miles  aloft." 
In  Milton's  case,  however,  the  truth  is  that  he  made  the 
mistake  of  trying  to  disturb  the  motive  of  a  story  for 
artistic  purposes, — a  fatal  mistake  as  we  shall  see  when 
we  come  to  speak  of  the  Nibelungeiilied  in  relation  to  the 
old  Norse  epic  cycle. 

Though  Vondel's  mystery  play  of  Lucifer  is,  in  its 
execution,  rhetorical  more  than  poetical,  it  did,  beyond  all 
question,  influence  Milton  when  he  came  to  write  Paradke 
Lost.  The  famous  line  which  is  generally  quoted  as  the 
key-note  of  Satan's  character — 

"  Better  to  reign  in  hell  than  serve  in  heaven  " — 
seems  to  have  been  taken  bodily  from  Vondel's  play,  and 
Milton's  entire  epic  shows  a  study  of  it.  While  Marlowe's 
majestic  movements  alone  are  traceable  in  Satan's  speech 
(written  some  years  before  the  rest  of  Paradise  Lost,  when 
the  dratoatic  and  not  the  epic  form  had  been  selected), 
Milton's  Satan  became  afterwards  a  splendid  amalgam  not 
of  the  Mephistopheles  but  of  the  Faustus  of  Marlowe  and 
the  Lucifer  of  Vondel.  Vondel's  play  must  have  possessed 
a  peculiar  attraction  for  a  poet  of  Milton's  views  of  human 
progress.  Defective  as  the  play  is  in  execution,  it-  is  far 
otherwise  in  motive.  This  motive,  if  we  consider  it  aright, 
is  nothing  less  than  an  explanation  of  man's  anomalous  con- 
dition on  the  earth — spirit  incarnate  in  matter,  created 
by  God,  a  little  lower  than  the  angels — in  order  that  he 
may  advance  by  means  of  these  very  manacles  which 
imprison  him,  in  order  that  he  may  ascend  by  the  staircase 
of  the  world,  the  ladder  of  fleshly  conditions,  above  those 
cherubim  and  seraphim  who,  lacking  the  education  of 
sense,  have  not  the  knowledge  wide  and  deep  which  brings 
man  close  to  God. 

Here  Milton  found  his  own  favourite  doctrine  of  human 
development  and  self-education  in  a  concrete  and  vividly 
artistic  form.  Much,  however,  as  such  a  motive  must 
have  struck  a  man  of  Milton's  instincts,  his  intellect  was 
too  much  chained  by  Calvinism  to  permit  of  his  treating 
the  subject  with  Vondel's  philosophic  breadth.  The  cause 
of  Lucifer's  wrath  had  to  be  changed  from  jealousy  of 
human  progress  to  jealousy  of  the  Son's  proclaimed 
superiority.  And  the  history  of  poetry  shows  that  once 
begin  to  tamper  with  the  central  thought  around  which 
any  group  of  incidents  has  crystallized  and  the  entire  story 
becomes  thereby  re- written,  as,  we  have  seen  in  the  case  of 
the  Agamemnon  of  ./Eschylus.  Of  the  motive  of  his  own 
epic,  after  he  had  abandoned  the  motive  of  Vondel,  Milton 
had  as  little  permanent  grasp  as  Virgil  had  of  his.  As 
regards  the  Odi/ssey,  however,  we  need  scarcely  say  that 
its  motive  is  merely  artistic,  not  philosophic.  And  now 
we  come  to  philosophic  motive. 

The  artist's  power  of  thought  is  properly  shown  not  in 
the  direct  enunciation  of  ideas  but  in  mastery  over  motive. 
Here  iEschylus  is  by  far  the  greatest  figure  in  Western 
poetry, — a  proof  perhaps  among  many  proofs  of  the 
Oriental  strain' of  his  genius.  (As  regards  pure  drama, 
however,  important  as  is  motive,  freedom,  organic  vitality 
in  every  part,  is  of  more  importance  than  even  motive, 
and  in  this  freedom  and  easy  abandonment  the  concluding 
part  of  the  Oresteia  is  deficient  as  compared  with  such  a 
play  as  Othello  or  Lear.)  Notwithstanding  the  splendid 
xcepHoa  pf  ,/E3chylus,  the  truth  seems  to  be  that  the 


facuTty  of  developing  a  poetical  narrative  from  a  philosophic 
thought  is  Oriental,  and  on  the  whole  foreign  to  the  geruus 
of  the  Western*  mind.  Neither  in  Western  drama  nor  la 
western  epic  do  we  find,  save  in  such  rare  cases  as  that  of 
Vondel,  anything  like  that  power  of  developing  a  story 
from  an  idea  which  not  only  Jami  but  all  the  parable 
poets  of  Persia  show. 

In  recent  English  poetry,  the  motive  of  Shelley's 
dramatic  poem  Prometheus  Unbound  is  a  notable  illustra- 
tion of  what  is  here  contended.  Starting  with  the  full 
intent  of  developing  a  drama  from  a  motive — starting  with 
a  universalism,  a  belief  that  good  shall  be  the  final  goal  of 
ill — Shelley  cannot  finish  his  first  three  hundred  lines 
without  shifting  (in  the  curse  of  Prometheus)  into  a 
Manichaeism  as  pure  as  that  of  Manes  himself : — 
"  Heap  on  thy  soul,  by  virtue  of  this  curse, 

111  deeds,  then  be  thou  damned,  beholding  good; 

Both  infinite  as  is  the  universe." 

According  to  the  central  thought  of  the  poem  human 
nature,  through  the  heroic  protest  and  struggle  of  the 
human  mind  typified  by  Prometheus,  can  at  last  dethrone 
that  supernatural  terror  and  tyranny  (Jupiter)  which  the 
human  mind  had  itself  installed.  But,  after  its  dethrone- 
ment (when  human  nature  becomes  infinitely  perfectible), 
how  can  the  supernatural  tyranny  exist  apart  from  the 
human  mind  that  imagined  it  ?  How  can  it  be  as  "  infinite 
as  the  universe  "  ? 

The  motive  of  Paradise  Lost  is  assailed  with  much 
vigour  by  Victor  Hugo  in  his  poem  Religions  et  Peligion. 
But  when  M.  Hugo,  in  the  after  parts  of  the  poem,  having 
destroyed  Milton's  "  God,"  sets  up  an  entirely  French 
"Dieu"  of  his  own  and  tries  "to  justify"  him,  we  perceive 
how  pardonable  was  Milton's  failure  after  all.  Compare 
such  defect  of  mental  grip  and  such  nebulosity  of  thought 
as  is  displayed  by  Milton,  Shelley,  and  M.  Hugo  with  the 
strength  of  hand  shown  in  the  "  SdUmiin  "  and  "  Absal " 
of  Jami,  and  indeed  by  the  Sufi  poets  generally. 

There   is,   however,   one   exception   to   this  rule   that  The  Giwj 
Western  poetry  is  nebulous  as  to  motive.     There  is,  besides  Northern 
the  Iliad,  one  epic  that  refuses  to  be  classified,  though  *y"" 
for  entirely  different  reasons.     This  is  the  Niblung  story, 
where  we  find  unity  of  piurpose  and  also  entire  freedom 
of  movement.     We  find  combined  here  beauties  which 
are  nowhere  else  combined — which  are,  in  fact,  at  war 
with  each  other  everywhere  else.     We  find  a  scheme,  a 
real  "acorn. of  thought,"  in  an  epic  which  is  not  the  self- 
conscious  work  of  a  single  poetic  artificer,  but  is  as  much 
the  slow  growth  of  various  times  and  various  minds  as  is 
the  Mahabhdrata,  in  which  the  heart-thought  is  merely 
that  the  Kauravas  defeated  their  relatives  at  dice  and 
refused  to  disgorge  their  winnings. 

This  Northern  epic-tree,  as  we  find  it  in  the  Icelandic 
sagas,  the  Norns  themselves  must  have  watered ;  for  it 
combines  the  virtues  of  the  epic  of  growth  with  those 
of  the  epic  of  art.  Though  not  written  in  metre,  it 
may  usefully  be  compared  with  the  epics  of  Greece  and 
of  India  and  Persia.  Free  in  movement  as  the  wind, 
which  "  bloweth  where  it  listeth,"  it  listeth  to  move 
by  law.  Its  action  is  that  of  free-will,  but  free  will 
at  play  within  a  ring  of  necessity.  Within  this  ring 
there  throbs  all  the  warm  and  passionate  life  of  the 
world  outside,  and  all  the  freedom  apparently.  Yet 
from  that  world  it  is  enisled  by  a  cordon  of  curses — by  a 
zone  of  defiant  flames  more  impregnable  than  that  which 
girdled  the  beautiful  Brynhild  at  Hindfell.  Natural  laws, 
familiar  emotions,  are  at  work  everywhere  in  the  story; 
yet  the  "  Ring  of  Andvari,"  whose  circumference  is  but 
that  of  a  woman's  finger,  encircles  the  whole  mimic  world 
of  the  sagaman  as  the  Midgard  snake  encircles  the  earth. 
For  this  artistic  perfection  in  an  epic  of  jjrowth  there  arc 


P  O  E  T  1^  T 


2()i) 


of  course,  many  causes,  some  of  them  traceable  and  some 
of  them  beyond  all  discovery, — causes  no  doubt  akin  to 
those  which  gave  birth  to  many  of  the  beauties  of  other 
epics  of  growth.  Originally  Sinfiotli  and  Sigurd  were  the 
same  person,  and  note  how  vast  has  been  the  artistic  effect 
of  the  separation  of  the  two !  Again,  there  were  several 
different  versions  of  the  story  of  Brynhild.  The  sagamen, 
•finding  all  these  versions  too  interesting  and  too  much 
beloved  to  be  discarded,  adopted  them  all — worked  them 
up  into  one  legend,  so  that,  in  the  Vulsunga  Saga  we  have 
a  heroine  possessing  all  the  charms  of  goddess,  demi- 
godd^ss,  earthly  princess,  and  amazon — a  heroine  surpass- 
ing perhaps  in  fascination  all  other  heroines  that  have  ever 
figured  in  poetry. . 

It  is  when  we  come  to  consider  such  imaginative  work 
as  this  that  we  are  compelled  to  pause  before  challenging 
the  Aristotelian  doctrine  that  metrical  structure  is  but  an 
accidental  quality  of  epic  ;  and  it  will  now  be  seen  why, 
in  the  early  part  of  this  essay,  this  doctrine  was  examined 
so  carefully. 

In  speaking  of  the  Niblung  story  we  do  not,  ol  course, 
speak  of  the  German  version,  the  Nibelungenlied,  a  fine 
epic  still,  though  a  degradation  of  the  elder  form.  Between 
the  two  the  differences  are  fundamental  in  the  artistic 
sense,  and  form  an  excellent  illustration  of  what  has  just 
been  said  upon  the  disturbance  of  motive  in  epic,  and 
indeed  in  all  poetic  art.  It  is  nofmerely  that  the  endings 
of  tlie  three  principal  characters  Sigurd  (Siegfried),  Gudrun 
(Kriemhilt),  and  Brynhild  are  entirely  different ;  it  is  not 
merely  that  the  Icelandic  version,  by  missing  the  blood- 
bath at  Fafnir's  lair,  loses  the  pathetic  situation  of  Gudrun's 
becoming  afterwards  an  unwilling  instrument  of  her  hus- 
band's death;  it  is  not  merely  that,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  German  version,  by  omitting  the  early  love  passages 
between  Brynhild  and  Sigurd  at  Hindfell,  misses  entirely 
the  tragic  meaning  of  her  story  and  the  terrible  hate  that 
is  love  resulting  from  the  breaking  of  the  troth ;  but  the 
conclusion  of  each  version  is"  so  exactly  the  opposite  of 
that  of  the  other  that,  while  the  German  story  is  called 
(and  very  properly)  "  Kriemhilt's  Revenge  "  the  story  of 
the  Volsunga  Saga  might,  with  equal  propriety,  be  called 
Gudrun's  Forgiveness. 

If  it  bo  said  that,  in  both  cases,  the  motive  shows  the 
same  Titanic  temper,  that  is  because  the  Titanic  temper  is 
the  special  characteristic  of  the  North-Western  mind.  The 
temper  of  revolt  against  authority  seems  indeed  to  belong 
to  that  energy  which  succeeds  in  the  modern  development 
of  the  great  racial  struggle  for  life..  Although  no  epic. 
Eastern  or  Western,  can  exist  without  a  struggle  between 
good  and  evil — and  a  struggle  upon  apparently  equal  terms 
— it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  warring  of  conflicting 
forces  which  is  the  motive  of  Eastern  epic  has  much  real 
relationi  to  the  warring  of  conflicting  forces  which  is  the 
motive  of  Western  epic. 

And,  is  regards  the  machinery  of  epic,  there  is,  wc 
suspect,  a  deeper  significance  than  is  commonly  appre- 
hended in  the  fact  that  the  Satan  or  Sbaitan  of  the 
Eastern  world  becomes  in  Vondel  and  Milton  a  sublime 
Titan  who  attracts  to  himself  the  admiration  which  in 
Eastern  poetry  belongs  entirely  to  the  authority  of  heaven. 
In  Asia,  save  perhaps  among  the  pure  Arabs  of  the  desert, 
underlying  all  religious  form.s,  there  is  apiiarcnt  a  temper 
of  resignation  to  the  irresistible  authority  of  heaven. 
And  as  regards  the  Aryans  it  is  probable  that  the  Titanic 
temper — the  temper  of  revolt  against  authority — did  not 
begin  to  show  itself  till  they  had  moved  acros.s  the  Cauca-sus. 
But  what  concerns  us  here  is  the  fact  that  the  further  they 
moved  to  the  north-west  the  more  vigorously  this  temper 
a-tserted  itself,  the  prouder  grew  man  in  his  attitude 
towards  the  gods,  till  at  last  in  the  Scandinavian  cycle 


he  became  their  equal  and  struggled  alongside  them, 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  in  the  defence  of  heaven  against  the 
assaults  of  hell.  Therefore,  as  we  say,  the  student  of  epic 
poetry  must  not  suppose  that  there  is  any  real  parallel 
between  the  attitude  of  Vishnu  (as  Rama)  towards  Bavana 
and  the  attitude  of  Prometheus  towards  Zeus,  or  the 
attitude  of  the  human  heroes  towards  Odin  in  Scandi- 
navian poetry.  Had  Ravana  been  clothed  with  a  properly 
constituted  authority,  had  he  been  a  legitimate  god  instead 
of  a  demon,  the  Eastern  doctrine  of  recognition  of  authority 
would  most  likely  have  come  in  and  the  world  would  have 
been  spared  one  at  least  of  its  enormous  epics.  Indeed,  the 
Ravana  of  the  Rdmdyana  answers  somewhat  to  the  Fafnir 
of  the  Volsunga  Saga ;  and  to  plot  against  demons  is  not 
to  rebel  against  authority.  The  Tast  field  of  Indian  epic, 
however,  is  quite  beyond  us  here. 

Nor  can  we  do  more  than  glance  at  the  Kalevala.  From 
one  point  of  view  that  group  of  ballads  might  be  taken,' 
no  doubt,  as  a  simple  record  of  how  the  men  of  Kalevala 
were  skilful  in  capturing  the  sisters  of  the  Pojohla  men. 
But  from  another  point  of  view  the  universal  struggle  of 
the  male  for  the  female  seems  typified  in  this  so-called 
epic  of  the  Finns  by  the  picture  of  the  "Lady  of  the 
Rainbow  "  sitting  upon  her  glowing  arc  and  weaving  her 
golden  threads,  while  the  hero  is  doing  battle  with  the 
malevolent  forces  of  nature. 

But  it  is  in  the  Niblung  story  that  the  temper  of 
Western  epic  is  at  its  best-.-the  temper  of  the  simple 
fighter  whose  business  it  is  to  fight.  The  ideal  Western 
fighter  was  not  known  in  Greece  till  ages  after  Uomer, 
when  in  the  pass  of  Thermopylae  the  companions  of 
Leonidas  combed  their  long  hair  in  the  sun.  The  business 
of  the  fighter  in  Scandinavian  epic  is  to  yield  to  no  power 
whatsoever,  whether  of  earth  or  heaven  or  hell — to  take  a 
buffet  from  the  Allfather  himself,  and  to  return  it ;  to  look 
Destiny  herself  in  the  face,  crying  out  for  quarter  neither 
to  gods  nor  demons  nor  Norns.  This  is  the  true  temper 
of  pure  "  heroic  poetry  "•  as  it  has  hitherto  flourished  on 
this  side  the  Caucasus — the  temj>er  of  the  fighter  who  is 
invincible  because  he  feels  that  Fate  herself  falters  when 
the  hero  of  the  true  strain  defies — the  fighter  who  feels 
that  the  very  Norns  themselves  must  cringe  at  last  before 
the  simple  courage  of  man  standing  naked  and  bare  of 
hope  against  all  assaults  whether  of  heaven  or  hell  or 
doom.  The  proud  heroes  of  the  ViJhwiga  Saga  utter  no 
moans  and  shed  no  Homeric  tears,  knowing  as  they  know 
that  the  day  prophesied  is  sure  when,  shoulder  to  .shoulder, 
gods  an(J  men  shall  stand  up  to  fight  the  entire  brood  of 
night  and  evil,  storming  the  very  gates  of  Asgard. 

That  this  temper  is  not  the  highest  from  the  ethical 
point  of  view  is  no  doubt  true.  Against  the  beautiful 
resignation  of  Buddhism  it  may  seem  barbaric,  and  if 
moral  suasion  could  supjilant  pliysical  force  in  epic — if 
Siddartha  could  take  the  place  of  Achilles  or  Sigurd — it 
might  bo  better  for  the  human  race. 

But  it  would  be  difficult  even  to  glance  at  the  countless 
points  of  interest  that  suggest  themselves  in  connexion 
with  epic  poetry.  Returning  now  to  the  general  subject 
of  egoistic  or  lyrical  and  dramatic  imagination, — as  might 
bo  cxjicctcd,  we  occasionally  meet  imagination  of  a  purely 
dramatic  kind  in  narrative  poetry,  such  for  instance  as 
that  of  Gottfried  von  Stra.sburg,  of  Chaucer,  and  of  the 
author  of  the  Cfianfuii  de  liotand. 

But  we  must  now  givo  undivided  attention  to  pure 
egoistic  or  lyric  imagination.  This,  as  has  been  said,  is 
sufficient  to  vitalize  all'^forms  of  poetic  art  save  drama  and 
the  Greek  epic.  Many  of  these  forms  have  been  or  will 
bo  treated  in  this  work  under  separate  heads. 

It  would  bo  impossible  to  discuss  ndcquately  here  tl;e 
Hebrew  poets,  who  have  produced  a  Ivric  so  different  in 


270 


POETRY 


kind  from  all  other  lyrics  as  to  stand  in  a  class  by  itself. 
As  it  is  equal  in  importance  to  the  Great  Drama  of  Shake- 
speare, ^schylus,  and  Sophocles,  we  may  perhaps  be 
allowed  to  call  it  the  "Great  Lyric."  The  Great  Lyric 
must  be  religious — it  must,  it  would  seem,  be  an  out- 
pouring of  the  soul,  not  towards  man  but  towards  God, 
like  that  of  the  God-intoxicated  prophets  and  psalmists  of 
Scripture.  Even  the  lyric  fire  of  Pindar  owes  much  to  the 
fact  that  he  had  a  child-like  belief  in  the  myths  to  which 
so  many  of  his  contemporaries  had  begun  to  give  a  languid 
assent.  But  there  is  nothing  in  Pindar,  or  indeed  else- 
where in  Greek  poetry,  like  the  rapturous  song,  combining 
unconscious  power  with  unconscious  grace,  which  we  have 
called  the  Great  Lyric.  It  might  perhaps  be  said  indeed 
that  the  Great  Lyric  is  purely  Hebrew. 

But,  although  we  could  hardly  expect  to  find  it  among 
those  whose  language,  complex  of  syntax  and  alive  with 
self-conscious  inflexions,  bespeaks  the  scientific  knowing- 
ness  of  the  Western  mind,  to  call  the  temper  of  the  Great 
Lyric  broadly  "  Asiatic"  would  be  rash.  It  seems  to  belong 
as  a  birthright  to  those  descendants  of  Shem  who,  yearning 
always  to  look  straight  into  the  face  of  God  and  live,  could 
(when  the  Great  Lyric  was  sung)  see  Jiot  much  else. 

Though  two  of  the  artistic  elements  of  the  Great  Lyric, 
unconsciousness  and  power,  are  no  doubt  plentiful  enough 
in  India,  the  element  of  grace  is  lacking  for  the  most 
part.  The  Vedic  hymns  are  both  nebulous  and  unemo- 
tional, as  compared  with  Semitic  hymns.  And  as  to  the 
Persians,  they,  it  would  seem,  have  the  grace  always,  the 
power  often,  but  the  unconsciousness  almost  never.  This 
is  inevitable  if  we  consider  for  a  moment  the  chief  charac- 
teristic of  the  Persian  imagination — an  imagination  whose 
wings  are  not  so  much  "  bright  with  beauty "  as  heavy 
with  it — heavy  as  the  wings  of  a  golden  pheasant — steeped 
in  beauty  like  the  "  tiger-moth's  deep  damasked  wings." 
Now  beauty  of  this  kind  does  not  go  to  the  making  of  the 
Great  Lyric. 

Then  there  comes  that  poetry  which,  being  ethnologic- 
ally  Semitic,  might  be  supposed  to  exhibit  something  at 
least  of  the  Hebrew  temper — the  Arabian.  But,  whatever 
may  be  said  of  the  oldest  Arabic  poetrj,  with  its  deep 
sense  of  fate  and  pain,  it  would  seem  that  nothing  can  be 
more  unlike  than  the  Hebrew  temper  and  the  Arabian 
temper  as  seen  in  later  poets.  It  is  not  with  Hebrew  but 
with  Persian  poetry  that  Arabian  poetry  can  be  usefully 
compared.  If  the  wings  of  the  Persian  imagination  are 
heavy  with  beauty,  those  of  the  later  Arabian  imagination 
are  bright  with  beauty — brilliant  as  an  Eastern  butterfly, 
quick  and  agile  as  a  dragon-fly  or  a  humming-bird.  To 
the  eye  of  the  Persian  poet  the  hues  of  earth  are  (as 
Firdausi  says  of  the  garden  of  Afrasiab)  "  like  the  tapestry 
of  the  kings  of  Ormuz,  the  air  is  perfumed  with  musk, 
and  the  waters  of  the  brooks  are  the  essence  of  roses." 
And  to  the  later  Arabian  no  less  than  to  the  Persian 
the  earth  is  beautiful ;  but  it  is  the  clear  and  sparkling 
beauty  of  the  earth  as  she  "  wakes  up  to  life,  greeting 
the  Sabfean  morning " :  we  feel  the  light  more  than  the 
colour. 

But  it  is  neither  the  Persian's  instinct  for  beauty  nor 
the  Arabian's  quenchless  wit  and  exhaustless  animal  spirits 
that  go  to  the  making  of  the  Great  Lyric ;  far  from  it. 
In  a  word,  the  Great  Lyric,  as  we  have  said,  cannot  be 
assigned  to  the  Asiatic  temper  generally  any  more  than  it 
can  be  assigned  to  the  European  temper. 

In  the  poetry  of  Europe,  if  we  cannot  say  or  Pindar, 
devout  as  he  is,  that  he  produced  the  Great  Lyric,  whaf 
can  we  say  of  any  other  European  poet  ?  The  truth  is 
that,  like  the  Great  Drama,  so  straight  and  so  warm  does 
it  seem  to  come  from  the  heart  of  man  in  its  highest 
mSods  that   we   scarcely  feel    it   to  be  literature  at  ail. 


Passing,  however,  from  this  supremo  expression  of  lyrical 
imagination,  we  come  to  the  artistic  ode,  upon  which 
subject  the  present  writer  can  only  reiterate  here  what 
he  has  more  fully  said  upon  a  former  occasion.  What- 
ever may  have  been  said  to  the  contrary,  enthusiasm  is, 
in  the  nature  of  things,  the  very  basis  of  the  ode  ;  for 
the  ode  is  a  mono-drama,  the  actor  in  which  is  the  poet 
himself;  and,  as  JSfarmontel  has  well  pointed  out,  if  the 
actor  in  the  mono-drama  is  not  affected  by  the  sentiments 
he  expresses,  the  ode  must  be  cold  and  lifeless.  But, 
although  the  ode  is  a  natural  poetic  method  of  the  poet 
considered  as  prophet — although  it  is  the  voice  of  poetry 
as  a  fine  frenzy — it  must  not  be  supposed  that  there  is 
anything  lawless  in  its  structure.  "Pindar,"  says  the 
Italian  critic  Gravina,  "  launches  his  verses  upon  the  bosom 
of  the  sea ;  he  spreads  oat  all  his  sails  ;  he  confronts  the 
tempest  and  the  rocks  ;  the  waves  arise  and  are  ready  to 
engulf  him  ;  already  he  has"  disappeared  from  the  spec- 
tator's view  ;  when  suddenly  he  springs  up  in  the  midst  of 
the  waters,  and  reaches  happily  the  shore."  Now  it  is  this 
Pindaric  discursiveness,  this  Pindaric  unrestraint  as  to  the 
matter,  which  has  led  poets  to  attempt  to  imitate  him  by 
adopting  an  unrestraint  as  to  form.  Although  no  two 
odes  of  Pindar  exhibit  the  same  metrical  structure  (the 
yEolian  and  Lydian  rhythms  being  mingled  with  the  Doric 
in  different  proportions),  j'et  each  ode  is  in  itself  obedient, 
severely  obedient,  to  structural  law.  This  we  feel ;  but 
what  the  law  is  no  metricist  has  perhaps  ever  yet  been 
able  to  explain. 

It  was  a  strange  misconception  that  led  people  for 
centuries  to  use  the  word  "  Pindaric "  and  irregular  as 
synonymous  terms  ;  whereas  the  very  essence  of  the  odes 
of  Pindar  (of  the  few,  alas  !  which  survive  to  lis)  is  their 
regularity.  There  is  no  more  difficult  form  of  poetry  than 
this,  and  for  this  reason  :  when  in  any  poetical  composi- 
tion the  metres  are  varied,  there  must,  as  the  present 
writer  has  before  pointed  out,  be  a  reason  for  such  free- 
dom, and  that  rea5on  is  properly  subjective — the  varying 
form  must  embody  and  express  the  varying  emotions  of  the 
singer.  But  when  these  metrical  variations  are  governed 
by  no  subjective  law  at  all,  but  by  arbitrary  rules  sup- 
posed to  be  evolved  from  the  practice  of  Pindar,  then  that 
very  variety  which  should  aid  the  poet  in  expressing  his 
emotion  crystallizes  it  and  makes  the  ode  the  most  frigid 
of  all  compositions.  Great  as  Pindar  undoubtedly  is,  it  is 
deeply  to  he  regretted  that  no  other  poet  survives  to  repre- 
sent the  triumjihal  ode  of  Greece, — the  digressions  of  hi.s 
subject-matter  are  so  wide,  and  his  volubility  is  so  greafr! 

In  modern  literature  the  ode  has  been  ruined  by  theories  The 
and  experiments.     A   poet  like    La  ifothe,  for  instance,  modem 
writes  execrable  odes,  and  then  writes  a  treatise  to  prove  °''*- 
that  all  odes  should  be  written  on  the  same  model. 

There  is  much  confusion  of  mind  prevalent  among  poets 
as  to  what  is  and  what  is  not  an  ode.  All  odes  are,  no 
doubt,  divisible  into '  two  great  classes  : — those  which, 
following  an  arrangement  in  stanzas,  are  commonly  called 
regular,  and  those  which,  following  no  such  arrangement, 
are  commonly  called  irregular. 

We  do  not  agree  with  those  who  assert  that  irregular 
metres  are  of  necessity  inimical  to  poetic  art.  On  the 
contrary,  we  believe  that  in  modern  prosody  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  rhymes  and  the  length  of  the  lines  in  any 
rhymed  metrical  passage  may  be  determined  either  by  a 
fixed  stanzaic  law  or  by  a  law  infinitely  deeper — by  the 
law  which  impels  the  soul,  in  a  state  of  poetic  exaltation, 
to  seize  hold  of  every  kind  of  metrical  aid,  such  as  rhyme, 
C£Esura,  itc,  for  the  purpose  of  accentuating  and  marking 
off  each  shade  of  emotion  as  it  arises,  regardle.ss  of  any 
demands  of  stanza.  But  between  the  irregularity  of  mafee- 
shift,  such  as  we  find  it  in  Cowley  and  his  imitators,  and 


fe 


p  o:e  T  R  T 


271 


the  irregularity  of  the  "  fiue  frenzy  "  of  such  a  poem,  for 
instance,  as  Coleridge's  Kubla  Khan,  there  is  a  difference 
in  kind.  Strange  that  it  is  not  in  an  ode  at  all  but 
in  this  unique  lyric  Kubla  Khan,  descriptive  of  imagina- 
tive landscape,  that  an  English  poet  has  at  last  conquered 
the  crowning  difficulty  of  writing  in  irregular  metres. 
Having  broken  away  from  all  restraints  of  couplet  and. 
BtatLza, — having  caused  his  rhymes  and  pauses  to  fall  just 
where  and  just  when  the  emotion  demands  that  they 
should  fall,  scorning  th9  exigencies  of  makeshift  no  less 
than  the  exigencies  of  stanza, — he  has  found  what  every 
writer  of  irregular  English  odes  has  sought  in  vain,  a 
music  as  entrancing,  as  natural,  and  at  the  same  time  as 
inscrutable,  as  the  music  of  the  winds  or  of  the  sea. 

The  prearranged  effects  of  sharp  contrasts  and  anti- 
phonal  movements,  such  as  some  poets  have  been  able 
to  compass,  do  not  of  course  oome  under  the  present  defi- 
nition of  irregular  metres  at  all.  If  a  metrical  pas.sage 
does  not  gain  immensely  by  being  written  independently 
of  stanzaic  law,  it  loses  immensely  ;  and  for  this  reason, 
perhaps,  that  the  great  charm  of  the  music  of  all  verse,  as 
distinguished  from  the  music  of  prose,  is  inevitableness  of 
cadence.  In  regular  metres  we  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  feel- 
ing that  the  rhymes  will  inevitably  fall  under  a  recognized 
law  of  couplet  or  stanza.  But  if  the  passage  flows 
independently  of  these,  it  must  still  flow  inevitably — it 
must,  in  short,  show  that  it  is  governed  by  another  and  a 
yet  deeper  force,  the  inevitableness  of  emotional  expres- 
sion. The  lines  must  be  long  or  short,  the  rhymes  must 
be  arranged  after  this  or  after  that  interval,  not  because  it 
is  convenient  so  to  arrange  them,  but  because  the  emotion 
of  the  poet  inexorably  demands  these  and  no  other 
arrangements.  When,  however,  Coleridge  came  to  try  his 
hand  at  irregular  odes,  such  as  the  odes  "  To  the  Departing 
Year  "  and  "  To  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire,"  he  certainly 
did  not  succeed. 

As  to  Wordsworth's  magnificent  "  Ode  on  Intimations 
of  Immortality,"  the  sole  impeachment  of  it,  but  it  is  a 
grave  one,  is  that  the  length  of  the  lines  and  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  rhymes  are  not  always  inevitable ;  they  are, 
except  on  rare  occasions,  governed  neither  by  stanzaic  nor 
by  emotional  law.  For  instance,  what  emotional  necessity 
was  there  for  the  following  rhyme-arrangement  1 

"  lly  heart  is  at  your  festival. 
My  head  Lath  it3  coronal, 
The  fulness  of  your  hXaa  I  feel— I  feel  it  alL 
Oh,  evil  day !  if  I  were  sullen 
■Wliile  earth  herself  is  adorning. 
This  sweet  May  mornint; ; 
^nd  the  children  are  culling. 

On  every  side, 
In  a  thousand  valleys  far  and  widf. 

Fresh  flowers." 

Beautiful  as  is  the  substance  of  this  entire  passage,'  so  far 
from  gaining,  it  loses  by  rhyme — loses,  not  in  perspicuity, 
for  Wordsworth  like  all  his  contemporaries  (except 
Shelley)  is  mostly  perspicuous,  but  in  that  metrical- 
emphasis  the  quest  of  which  is  one  of  the  impulses  that 
leads  a  poet  to  write  in  rhyme.  In  spite,  however,  of  its 
metrical  defects,  this  famous  ode  of  Wordsworth's  is 
the  finest  irregular  ode  in  the  language  ;  for,  although 
Coleridge's  "Ode  to  the  Departing  Year"  excels  it  in 
Pindaric  fire,  it  is  below  Wordsworth's  masterpiece  in 
almost  every  other  quality  save  rhythm.  Among  the 
writers  of  English  irregular  odes,  next  to  Wordsworth, 
stands  Dryden.  The  second  stanza  of  the  "  Ode  for  St 
Cecilia's  Day  "  is  a  great  triumph. 
lie  true  Leaving  the  irregular  and  turning  to  the  regular  odo,  it 
iiiilnric  ia  natural  to  divide  these  into  two'  classes  r — (1)  those 
eii'lar  "^''^^  "^  really  Pindaric  in  so  far  as  they  consist'  of 
strophes,  antistrophes,  and  epodes,  variously  arranged  and 


contrasted ;  and  (2)  those  which  consist  of  a  regular 
succession  of  regular  stanzas.  Perhaps  all  Pindaric  odes 
tend  to  show  that  this  form  of  art  is  in  English  a  mistake. 
It  is  easy  enough  to  write  one  stanza  and  call  it  a  strophe, 
another  in  a  different  movement  and  call  it  an  antistrophe, 
a  third  in  a  different  movement  still  and  call  it  an  epode. 
But  in  modern  prosody,  disconnected  as  it  is  from  musical 
and  from  terpsichorean  science,  what  are  these  ?  No  poet 
and  no  critic  can  say. 

What  is  requisite  is  that  the  ear  of  the  reader  should 
catch  a  great  metrical  scheme,  of  which  these  three 
varieties  of  movement  are  necessary  parts, — should  catch, 
in  short,  that  inevitableness  of  structure  upon  which  we 
have  already  touched.  In  order  to  justify  a  poet  in  writ- 
ing a  poem  in  three  different  kinds  of  movement,  governed 
by  no  musical  and  no  terpsichorean  necessity,  a  necessity 
of  another  kind  should  make  itself  apparent ;  that  is,  the 
metrical  wave  moving  in  the  strophe  should  be  metrically 
answered  by/the  counter-wave  moving  in  the  antistrophe, 
while  the  epode— wtich,  as  originally  conceived  by  Stesi- 
chorus,  was  merely  a  standing  still  after  the  balanced 
movements  of  the  strophe  and  antistrophe — should  clearly, 
in  a  language  like  ours,  be  a  blended  echo  of  these  two. 
A  mere  metrical  contrast  such  as  some  poets  labour  to 
effect  is  not  a  metrical  answer.  And  if  the  reply  to  this 
criticism  be  that  in  Pindar  himself  no  such  metrical  scheme 
•is  apparent,  that  is  the  strongest  possible  argument  in 
support  of  our  position.  If  indeed  the  metrical  scheme  of 
Pindar  is  not  apparent,  that  is  because,  having  beea 
written  for  chanting,  it  was  subordinate  to  the  lost  musical 
scheme  of  the  musician.  It  hai  been  contended,  and  is 
likely  enough,  that  this  musical  •  scheme  was  simple — as 
simple;  perhaps,  as  the  scheme  of  a  cathedral  chant ;  but 
to  it,  whatever  it  was,  the  metrical  scheme  of  the  poet  was 
subordinated.  It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  the  phrase 
"  metrical  scheme  "  is  used  here  not  in  the  narrow  sense 
as  indicating  the  position  and  movement  of  strophe  and 
antistrophe  by  way  of  simple  contrast,  but  in  the  deep 
metrical  sense  as  indicating  the  value  of  each  of  these 
component  parts  of  the  ode,  as  a  counter-wave  balancing 
and  explaining  the  other  waves  in  the  harmony  of  the 
entire  composition.  We  touch  upon  this  matter  in  order 
to  show  that  the  moment  odes  ceased  to  bo  chanted,  the 
words  strophe,  antistrophe,  and  epodo  lost  the  musical 
value  they  had  among  the  Greeks,  and  pretended  to  a 
complex  metrical  value  which  their  actual  metrical  struc- 
ture does  not  appear  to  justify.  It  docs  not  follow  from 
this  that  odes  should  not  be  so  arranged,  but  it  does  follow 
.that  the  poet's  arrangement  should  justify  itself  by  dis- 
closing an  entire  metrical  scheme  in  place  of  the  musical 
scheme  to  which  the  Greek  choral  lyric  was  evidently  sub- 
ordinated? But  even  if  the  poet  wore  a  sufficiently  skilled 
metricist  to  compass  a  scheme  embracing  a  wave,  an 
answering  wave,  and  an  echo  gathering  up  the  tones  of 
each,  i.e.,  the  strophe,  the  antistrophe,  and  the  epodo,  the 
ear  of  the  reader,  unaided  by  the  musical  emphasis  which 
supported  the  rhythms  of  the  old  choral  lyric,  is,  it  should 
seem,  incapable  of  gathering  up  and  remembering  the 
sounds  further  than  the  strophe  and  the  antistrophe,  after 
which  it  demands  not  an  epodo  but  a  return  to  the  strophe. 
That  is  to  say,  an  epode,  as  alternating  in  the  body  of  the 
modern  ode,  is  a  mistako ;  a  single  epodo  at  tho  end 
of  a  group  of  strophes  and  antistrophes  (as  in  some 
of  the  Greek  odes)  ha«,  of  course,  a  different  functiou 
altogether. 

.  Tho  groat  difficulty  of  the  English  ode  is  that  of  pre- 
venting tho  apparent  siioutancity  of  the  impulse  from  being 
marred  by  the  apparent  artifice  of  the  form  ;  for,  as.surcdly. 
no  writer  subsequent  to  Coleridge  and  to   Keats  would 
I  dream  of  writing  an  ode  on  the  cold  Horatian  principles 


272 


POETRY 


adopted  by  Warton,  and  even  by  Collins,  m  his  beautiful 
"  Ode  to  Evening." 

Of  the  second  kind  of  regular  odes,  those  consisting  of 
a  regular  succession  of  regular  stanzas,  the  so-called  odes 
of  Sappho  are,  of  course,  so  transcendent  that  no  other 
amatory  lyrics  can  be  compared  with  them.  Never  before 
these  songs  were  sung  and  never  since  did  the  human  soul, 
in  the  grip  of  a  fiery  passion,  utter  a  cry  like  hers ;  and, 
from  the  executive  point  of  view,  in  directness,  in  lucidity, 
in  that  high  imperious  verbal  economy  which  only  Nature 
herself  can  teach  the  artist,  she  has  no  equal,  and  none 
worthy  to  take  the  plac*^  of  second — not  even  in  Heine, 
not  even  in  Burns.  Turning,  however,  to  modern  poetry, 
there  are  some  magnificent  examples  of  this  simple  form 
of  ode  in  English  poetry — Spenser's  immortal  "  Epithal- 
amion  "  leading  the  way  in  point  of  time,  and  probably 
also  in  point  of  excellence. 

Fervour  being  absolutely  essential,  we  think,  to  a  great 
English  ode,  fluidity  of  metrical  movement  can  never  be 
dispensed  with.  The  more  billowy  the  metrical  waves  the 
better  suited  are  they  to  render  the  emotions  expressed 
by  the  ode,  as  the  reader  will  see  by  referring  to 
Coleridge's  "  Ode  to  France"  (the  finest  ode  in  the  English 
language,  according  to  Shelley),  and  giving  special  atten- 
tion to  the  first  stanza — to  the  way  in  which  the  first 
metrical  wave,  after  it  had  gently  fallen  at  the  end  of  the 
first  quatrain,  leaps  up  again  on  the  double  rhymes  (which 
are  expressly  introduced  for  this  effect),  and  goes  bound- 
ing on,  billow  after  billow,  to  the  end  of  the  stanza.  Not 
that  this  fine  ode  is  quite  free  from  the  great  vice  of  the 
English  ode,  rhetoric.  If  we  except  Spenser  and,  in  one 
instance,  Collins,  it  can  hardly  be  said  that  any  English 
writer  before  Shelley  and  Keats  produced  odes  independent 
of  rhetoric  and  supported  by  pure  poetry  alone.  But  fervid 
as  are  Shelley's  "Ode  to  the  West  Wind,"  and  Keats's 
Odes  "  To  a  Nightingale  "  and  "  On  a  Grecian  Urn,"  they 
are  entirely  free  from  rhetorical  flavour.  Notwithstanding 
that  in  the  "  Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn  "  the  first  stanza  does 
not  match  in  rhyme  arrangement  with  the  others,  while 
the  second  stanza  of  the  "  Ode  to  a  Nightingale  "  varies 
from  the  rest  by  running  on  four  rhyme-sounds  instead 
of  five,  vexing  the  ear  at  first  by  disappointed  expectation, 
these  two  odes  are,  after  Coleridge's  "  France,"  the  finest 
regular  odes  perhaps  in  the  English  language. 

With  regard  to  the  French  ode,  Malherbe  was  the  first 
writer  who  brought  it  to  perfection.  Malherbe  showed 
also  more  variety  of  mood  than  it  is  the  fashion  just  now 
to  credit  him  with.  This  may  be  especially  noted  in  his 
"Ode  to  Louis  XIII."  His  disciple  Racan  is  not  of  much 
account.  There  i.s  certainly  much  vigour  in  the  odes  of 
Rousseau,  but  it  is  not  till  we  reach  Victor  Hugo  that  we 
realile  what  French  poetry  can  achieve  in  this  line ;  and 
-contemporary  poetry  can  hardly  be  examined  here.  We 
may  say,  however,  that  some  of  Hugo's  odes  are  truly 
magnificent.  As  a  pure  lyrist  his  place  among  the  greatest 
poets  of  the  world  is  very  high.  Here,  though  writing  in 
an  inferior  language,  he  ranks  with  the  greatest  masters 
of  Greece,  of  England,  and  of  Germany.  Had  he  attempted 
no  other  kind  of  poetry  than  lyrical,  his  would  still  have 
been  the  first  name  in  French  poetry.  Whatever  is 
defective  in  his  work  arises,  as  in  the  case  of  Euripides, 
from  the  importation  of  lyrical  force  where  dramatic  force 
is  mainly  needed. 

As  most  of  the  other  varieties  of  lyrical  poetry,  such 
as  the  idyl,  the  satire,  the  ballad,  the  sonnet,  &c.,  have 
been  or  will  be  treated  under  different  heads,  or  under  the 
names  of  the  various  masters  of  poetic  art,  it  would  be 
superfluous  to  discuss  them  here. 

A.  word  or  two,  however,  must  be  said  about  the  song 
and  the  elegy.     To  write  a  good  song  requires  that  simoli-  | 


city  of  grammatical  structure  which  is  foreign  to  many 
natures — that  mastery  over  direct  and  simple  speech  which 
only  true  passion  and  feeling  can  give,  and  which  "  coming 
from  the  heart  goes  to  the  heart."  Without  going  so  far 
as  to  say  that  no  man  is  a  poet  who  cannot  write  a  good 
song,  it  may  certainly  be  said  that  no  man  can  write  a 
good  song  who  is  not  a  good  poet. 

In  modern  times  we  have,  of  course,  nothing  in  any 
way  representing  those  choral  dance-songs  of  the  Greeks, 
which,  originating  in  the  primitive  Cretan  war-dances, 
became,  in  Pindar's  time,  a  splendid  blending  of  song 
and  ballet.  Nor  have  we  anything  exactly  representing 
the  Greek  scolia,  those  short  drinking  songs  of  which  Ter- 
pander  is  said  to  have  been  the  inventor.  That  these  scolia 
were  written,  not  only  by  poets  hke  Alcaeus,  Anacreoa, 
Fraxilla,  Simonides,  but  also  by  Sappho  and  by  Pindar, 
shows  in  what  high  esteem  they  were  held  by  the  Greeks. 
These  songs  seem  to  have  been  as  brief  as  the  stornelli  of 
the  Italian  peasant.  They  were  accompanied  by  the  lyre, 
which  was  handed  from  singer  to  singer  as  the  time  for 
each  scohon  came  round. 

With  regard  to  the  stornello,  many  critics  seem  to  con- 
found it  with  the  rispetto,  a  Very  different  kind  of  song. 
The  Italian  rispetto  consists  of  a  stanza  of  inter-rhyming 
lines  ranging  from  six  to  ten  in  number,  but  often  not 
exceeding  eight.  The  Tuscan  and  Umbrian  stornello  is 
much  shorter,  consisting,  indeed,  of  a  hemistich  naming 
some  natural  object  which  suggests  the  motive  of  the  little 
poem. 

The  nearest  approach  to  the  Italian  stornello  appears  to 
be,  not  the  rispetto,  but  the  Welsh  triban. 

Perhaps  the  mere  difficulty  of  rhyming  in  Enghsh  and 
the  facility  of  rhyming  in  Itahan  must  be  taken  into 
account  when  we  inquire  why  there  is  nothing  in  Scot- 
land— of  course  there  could  be  nothing  in  England — 
answering  to  the  nature-poetry  of  the  Italian  peasant. 
Most  of  the  Italian  rispetti  and  stornelli  seem  to  be  impro- 
visations :  and  to  improvise  in  Enghsh  is  as  difficult  as  to 
improvise  is  easy  in  Italian.  Nothing  indeed  is  more 
interesting  than  the  improvisatorial  poetry  of  the  Italian 
peasants,  such  as  the  canzone.  If  the  peasantry  discover 
who  is  the  composer  of  a  canzone,  they  will  not  sing  it. 
The  speciality  of  Italian  peasant  poetry  is  that  the  symbol 
which  is  mostly  erotic  is  of  the  purest  and  most  tender 
kind.  A  peasant  girl  will  improvise  a  song  as  impassioned 
as  "Comeinto  the  Garden,  Maud,"  and  as  free  from  un- 
wholesome taint. 

With  regard  to  English  songs,  the  critic  cannot  but  Engli 
ask — Wherein  lies  the  lost  ring  and  charm  of  the  Eliza-  song*, 
bethan  song-writers  ?  Since  the  Jacobean  period  at  least, 
few  have  succeeded  in  the  art  of  writing  real  songs  as 
distinguished  from  mere  book  lyrics.  Between  songs  to 
be  sung  and  songs  to  be  read  there  is  in  our  time  a  differ- 
ence as  wide  as  that  which  exists  between  plays  for  the 
closet  and  plays  for  the  boards. 

Heartiness  and  melody — the  two  re(Juisites  of  a  song 
which  can  never  be  dispensed  with — can  rarely  be  com- 
passed, it  seems,  by  one  and  the  same  individual.  In 
both  these  qualities  the  Elizabethan  poets  stand  pre» 
eminent,  though  even  with  them  the  melody  is  not  so 
singable  as  it  might  be  made.  Since  their  time  heartiness 
has,  perhaps,  been  a  Scottish  rather  than  an  English  endow- 
ment of  the  song-writer.  It  is  difficult  to  imagine  an 
Englishman  writing  a  song  hke  "  Tullochgorum  "  or  a  song 
hke  "Maggie  Lauder,"  where  the  heartiness  and  impulse 
of  the  poet's  mood  conquer  all  impediments  of  close  vowels 
and  rugged  consonantal  combinations.  Of  Scottish  song- 
writers Burns  is,  of  course,  the  head ;  for  the  songs  of 
John  Skinner,  the  heartiest  song-writer  that  has  appeared 
in  Great  Britain  (not  excluding  Herrick),  are  too  few  in 


P  0  G  — P  0  G 


273 


number  to  entitle  him  to  be  placed  beside  a' poet  so  prolific 
in  heartiness  and  melody  as  Burns.  With  regard  to 
Campbell's  heartiness,  this  is  quite  a  different  quality  from 
the  heartiness  of  Burns  and  Skinner,  and  is  in  quality 
English  rather  than  Scottish,  though,  no  doubt,  i^  is  of  a 
fine  and  rare  strain,  especially  in  "The  Battle  of  the 
Baltic."  His  songs  illustrate  an  infirmity  which  even  the 
Scottish  song-writers  share  with  the  English — a  defective 
senso  of  that  true  song-warble  which  we  get  in  the 
stornelli  and  rispetti  of  the  Italian  peasants.  A  poet  may 
'have  heartiness  in  plenty,  but  if  ho  has  that  love  of  conso- 
nantal effects  which  Donne  displays  he  will  never  write 
a  first-rate  song.  Here,  indeed,  is  the  crowning  difficulty 
of  song-writing.  An  extreme  simplicity  of  structure  and 
of  diciion  must  be  accompanied  by  an  instinctive  appre- 
hension of  the  melodic  capabilities  of  verbal  sounds,  and 
of  what  Samuel  Lover,  the  Irish  song-writer,  called  "  sing- 
ing "  wo/ds,  which  is  rare  in  this  country,  and  seems  to 
belong  to  the  Celtic  rather  than  to  the  Saxon  ear.  "  The 
song-writer,"  says  Lover,  "must  frame  his  song  of  open 
Towels  with  as  few  guttural  or  hissing  sounds  as  possible, 
and  he  must  be  content  sometimes  to  sacrifice  grandeur 
and  vigour  to  the  necessity  of  selecting  singing  words  and 
not  reading  words."  And  he  exemplifies  the  distinction 
between  singing  words  and  reading  words  by  a  line  from 
one  of  Shelley's  songs — - 

"  "The  fresh  earth  in  new  leaves  drest,' 

"  where  nearly  every  word  shuts  up  the  mouth  instead  of 
opening  it."  But  closeness  of  vowel  sounds  is  by  no  means 
the  only  thing  to  be  avoided  in  song-writing.  A  phrase 
may  be  absolutely  unsingable,  though  the  vowels  be  open 
enough,  if  it  is  loaded  with  consonants.  The  truth  is  that 
in  song-writing  it  is  quite  as  important,  in  a  consonantal 
language  like  ours,  to  attend  to  the  consonants  as  to  the 
vowels;  and  perhaps  the  first  thing  to  avoid  in  writing 
English  songs  is  the  frequent  recurrence  of  the  sibilant. 
But  this  applies  to  all  the  brief  and  quintessential  forms 
of  poetry,  such  as  the  sonnet,  the  elegy,  A:c. 

As  to  the  elegy — a  form  of  poetic  art  which  has  more 
relation  to  the  objects  of  the  external  'vorld  than  the  song, 
but  less  relation  to  these  than  the  stornello — its  scope 
seems  to  be  wide  indeed,  as  practised  by  such  various 


writers  as  Tyrtaus,  Theognis,  Catullus,  Tibullus,  and  our 
own  Gray.  It  may  almost  be  said  that  perfection  of  forra 
is  more  necessary  here  and  in  the  sonnet  than  in  the  song, 
inasmuch  as  the  artistic  pretensions  are  more  pronounced. 
Hence  even  such  apparent  minutia;as  those  we  have  hinted 
at  above  must  not  be  neglected  here. 

We  have  quoted  Dionysius  of  Halicamassus  in  relation 
to  the  arrangement  of  words  in  poetry.  His  remarks  oe 
sibilants  are  equally  deserving  of  attention.  lie  goes  sc 
far  as  to  say  that  o-  is  entirely  disagreeable,  and,  when  il  , 
often  recurs,  insupportable.  "The  hiss  seems  to  him  to  hi 
more  appropriate  to  the  beast  than  to  man.  Hence  certain 
writers,  he  sajs,  often  avoid  it,  and  employ  it  with  regret. 
Some,- he  tells  us,  have  composed  entire  odes  without  it. 
But  if  sibilation  is  a  defect  in  Greek  odes,  where  the 
softening  effect  of  the  vowel  sounds  is  so  poteut,  it  is 
much  more  so  in  English  poetry,  where  the  consonants 
dominate,  though  it  will  be  only  specially  noticeable  in 
the  brief  and  quintessential  forms  such  as  the  song,  the 
sonnet,  the  elegy.  Many  poets  onlj'  attend  to  their  sibilants 
when  these  clog  the  rhythm.  To  write  even  the  briefest 
song  without  a  sibilant  would  be  a  tour  de  force ;  to  write 
a  good  one  would  no  doubt  be  next  to  impossible.  It  is 
singular  that  the  only  metricist  who  ever  attempted  it  was 
John  Thelwall,  the  famous  "Citizen  John,"  friend  of  Lamb 
and  Coleridge,  and  editor  of  the  famous  Champion  news- 
paper where  many  of  Lamb's  epigrams  appeared.  Thehyall 
gave  much  attention  to  metrical  questions,  and  tried  his 
hand  at  various  metres.  Though  "Citizen  John's"  sap- 
phics  might  certainly  have  been  better,  he  had  a  very 
remarkable  critical  insight  into  the  rationale  of  metrical 
effects,  and  his  "Song  without  a  Sibilant"  is  extremely 
neat  and  ingenious.  Of  course,  however,  it  would  be 
mere  pedantry  to  exaggerate  this  objection  to  sibilants 
even  in  these  brief  forms  of  poetry. 

As  a  fine  art  English  poetry  is  receiving  much  attention 
in  our  time.  Defective  rhymes  once  allowable,  and  make- 
shift work  in  general,  are  no  longer  tolerated.  And  we 
believe  the  time  is  not  far  distant  when  even  such  a  sub- 
ject as  vowe!  ccnipoiii-ioa  (the  arrssgesiest  of  one  vowel 
.sound  with  regard  to  another)  will  have  to  be  studied 
with  the  care  which  the  Greeks  evidently  bestowed  upon 
it.  (t.  w.) 


POGGENDOBFF,  Johann  Cheistian  (1796-1877), 
physicist,  and  editor  for  more  than  half  a  century  of  the 
•well-known  scientific  journal  called  after  him  Poggendo'^ff's 
Annalen,  was  born  in  Hamburg  on  the  29th  December 
1796.  His  father,  a  wealthy  manufacturer  of  that  town, 
vas  all  but  ruined  by  the  French  siege.  His  son  Christian, 
after  receiving  his  education  at  Hamburg  and  Schillbeck, 
had  therefore,  when  only  sixteen,  to  apprentice  himself  to 
f.n  apothecary  in  Hamburg,  and  when  twenty-two  began 
to  earn  his  living  as  an  a[>othecary'a  assistant  at  Itzehoe. 
Ambition  and  a  strong  inclination  towards  a  scientific 
career  led  him  to  throw  up  his  business  and  remove  to 
Berlin,  where  he  entered  the  university  in  1820.  Hero 
his  abilities  were  speedily  recognized,  and  in  1823  ho  was 
appointed  meteorological  observer  to  tho  Academy  of 
Sciences  wi'h  a  small  salary,  which  was  important  to  him, 
inasmuch  as  tho  expenses  of  his  university  career  had 
nearly  exhausted  his  slender  patrimony.  Even  at  this 
early  period  he  had  conceived  tho  idea  of  founding  a 
physical  and  chemical  scientific  journal.  Tho  realization 
of  this  plan  was  hastened  by  the  sudden  death  of  Gilbert, 
the  editor  of  Gilbert's  Annalen  der  Physik,  in  1824. 
Poggendorf!  immediately  put  himself  in  communication 
with  the  publisher,  Earth  of  Leipsic,  with  the  result  that 

1!)— 12 


he  was  installed  as  editor  of  a  scientific  journal  which  was 
to  bo  a  continuation  of  Gilbert's  Annalen  on  a  somewhat 
extended  plan,  indicated  by  its  title  Annalen  der  Physik 
und  Chemie.  Poggendorll  was  admirably  qualified  for  tho 
po.st  which  ho  thus  attained.  He  had  an  extraordinary 
memory,  well-stored  with  scientific  knowledge,  both  modern 
and  histc«-ical,  which  served  him  in  good  stead  in  the 
critical  part  of  his  editorial  duty.  Ho  had  a  cool  and 
impartial  judgment,  with  a  strong  preference  for  facts  oa 
against  theory  of  the  speculative  kind  at  least,  and  was 
able  to  throw  himself  into  tho  spirit  of  modern  experi- 
mental science,  represented  in  tho  eivrly  part  of  his  edi- 
torial career  by  such  great  names  a.s  Berzelius,  Faraday, 
Brewster,  Fresnel,  Regnault.  He  also  possessed  in  more 
than  German  measure  tho  German  virtue  of  orderliness  in 
tho  arrangement  of  knowledge  and  in  the  conduct  of  busi- 
ness. To  this  ho  added  an  engaging  geniality  of  manner 
and  much  tact  in  dealing  with  men;  so  marked  in  fact 
was  this  part  of  his  character  that,  notwithstanding  his 
somewhat  trying  position,  he  never  during  his  long  life 
was  involved  in  anything  that  could  bo  fairly  called  a 
literary  quarreL  These  qualities  of  its  editor  soon  made 
Poggendorf's  Annalen  tho  foremost  scientific  journal  iu 
Europe.     Ho  collected  around  him  all  tho  eminent  scien- 


274 


P  0  G  — P  O  G 


tific  men  of  his  own  country,  and  he  managed,  either 
through  original  contributions  or  by  translations  of  memoirs 
of  approved  value  already  printed,  to  secure  for  many 
years  an  adequate  representation  of  the  scientific  work 
of  other  lands.  So  true  is  this  that,  for  years  after  the 
beginning  of  Poggendorff's  editorship,  the  tables  of  con- 
tents of  his  annual  volumes  read  like  an  index  of  the 
history  of  physical  science. 

In  the  course  of  his  fifty-two  years'  editorship  of  the 
Annalen  PoggendorfE  could  not  fail  to  acquire  an  unusual 
acquaintance  with  the  labours  of  modern  men  of  science. 
This  knowledge,  joined  to  what  he  had  gathered  by 
historical  reading  of  equally  unusual  extent,  he  carefully 
digested  and  gave  to  the  world  in  his  Biographisch- 
literarisches  Handbuch  zur  Geschichte  der  Exacten  Wissen- 
schaften,  containing  notices  of  the  lives  and  labours  of 
mathematicians,  astronomers,  physicists,  chemists,  minera- 
logists, geologists,  (fee,  of  all  peoples  and  all  ages.  The 
two  volumes  of  this  work  contain  an  astounding  collection 
of  facts  invaluable  to  the  scientific  biographer  and  his- 
torian ;  they  form  in  fact  the  basis  of  the  yet  unwritten 
history  of  physical  science.  We  possess  a  small  fragment 
of  such  a  history  in  the  form  of  lectures  delivered  by 
PoggendorfE  himself  at  Berlin  ;  and  probably  he  had  con- 
templated at  one  time  writing  a  continuous  narrative ;  but 
even  his  long  life  was  too  short  for  the  double  task  of 
collecting  and  using  the  material. 

PoggendorfE  was  a  physicist  of  high  although  not  of 
the  very  highest  rank.  He  was  wanting  in  mathematical 
ability,  and  never  displayed  in  any  remarkable  degree  the 
still  more  important  power  of  scientific  generalization, 
which,  whether  accompanied  by  mathematical  .skill  or  not, 
never  fails  to  mark  the  highest  genius  in  physical  science. 
He  was,  however,  an  able  and  conscientious  experimenter. 
He  was  very  fertile  and  ingenious  in  devising  phj'sical 
apparatus,  and  contributed  greatly  in  the  earlier  part  of 
his  life  to  enrich  the  resources  of  experimental  science. 
Contemporaneously  with  Schweigger,  he  succeeded  in 
greatly  increasing  the  sensitiveness  of  the  galvanometer  by 
introducing  the  multiplying  coil,  and  he  made  important 
improvements  on  that  particular  type  of  this  instru- 
ment which  is  usually  called  the  sine  galvanometer.  To 
him  (according  to  Wiedemann)  we  owe  the  use  of  binding 
screws  in  most  of  their  various  forms.  He  invented 
the."  Inversor  "  for  rapidly  alternating  the  direction  of  a 
voltaic  current, 'and  the  "  Wippe  "  for  throwing  a  number 
of  -voltaic  or  electrolytic  cells  suddenly  into  "  series  "  or 
into  "  multiple  arc  " ;  and  to  him  is  due  the  suggestion  of 
the  telescope  and  mirror  method  for  reading  galvanometers 
and  other  physical  instruments,  a  device  which  has  proved 
very  valuable  in  all  branches  of  physical  science. 

Poggendorff's  contributions  to  physics  were  published 
for  the  most  part  in  his  own  journal.  They  form  an 
important  part  of  the  scientific  work  of  the  19th  century; 
but  it  would  be  difficult  in  a  few  words  to  characterize 
them  inasmuch  as  they  do  not  constitute  a  single  coherent 
group  or  even  a  few  coherent  groups  of  connected 
researches.  By  far  the  greater  and  more  important  part 
of  his  work  related  to  electricity  and  magnetism.  As 
specimens  we  may  mention  his  investigations  into  the 
working  of  Holtz's  machines,  and  his  variations  on  their 
construction  ;  his  researches  on  the  resistance  and  electro- 
motive force  of  electrolytic  cells,  along  with  which  ought 
to  be  noticed  his  admirable  method  of  comparing  electro- 
motive forces  by  "compensation";  and  finally  Ms  researches 
on  magnetism  and  diamagnetism. 

Poggendorff's  literary  and  scientific  reputation  speedily 
brought  him  honourable  recognition.  In  1830  he  was 
made  royal  profes-sor  and  in  183i  Hon.  Ph.D.  and  extra- 
ordinary professor  in  the  university  of  Berlin,  and  in 


1839  member  of  the  Berlin  Academy  of  Sciences.  He 
ultimately  became  a  member  of  many  foreign  societies, 
and  received  more  than  the  usual  share  of  the  orders 
bestowed  by  Continental  nations  for  scientific  merit.  Dur- 
ing his  lifetime  many  offers  of  ordinary  professorships 
were  made  to  him,  but  he  declined  them  aU,  devoting 
himself  to  his  duties  as  editor  of  the  Annalen,  and  to 
the  pursuit  of  his  scientific  researches.  He  died  at  Berlin 
on  January  24,  1877. 

POGGIO  (1380-1459).  Gian  Francesco  Poggio  Brac- 
ciolini,  eminent  in  the  annals  of  the  revival  of  learning, 
was  born  in  1380  at  Terranova,  a  village  in  the  territory 
of  Florence.  He  studied  Latin  under  John  of  Ravenna, 
and  Greek  under  Manuel  Chrysoloras.  His  distinguished 
abilities  and  his  dexterity  as  a  copyist  of  MSS.  brought 
him  into  early  notice  with  the  chief  scholars  of  Florence. 
Coluccio  Salutati  and  Niccolo  de'  Niccoli  befriended  him, 
and  in  the  year  1402  or  1403  he  was  received  into  the 
service  of  the  Roman  curia.  His  functions  were  those  of 
a  secretary  ;  and,  though  he  profited  by  benefices  conferred 
on  him  in  lieu  of  salary,  he  remained  a  layman  to  the  end 
of  his  life.  It  is  noticeable  that,  while  he  held  his  oflSce  in 
the  curia  through  that  momentous  period  of  fifty  years 
which  witnessed  the  councils  of  Constance  and  of  Basel,  and 
the  final  restoration  of  the  papacy  under  Nicholas  V.,  hLi 
sympathies  were  never  attracted  to  ecclesiastical  affairs. 
Nothing  marks  the  secular  attitude  of  the  Italians  at  an 
epoch  which  decided  the  future  course  of  both  Renaissance 
and  Reformation  more  strongly  than  the  mundane  pro- 
clivities of  this  apostolic  secretary,  heart  and  soul  devoted 
to  the  resuscitation  of  classical  studies  amid  conflicts  of 
popes  and  antipopes,  cardinals  and  councils,  in  all  ol 
which  he  bore  an  official  part.  Thus,  when  his  duties 
called  him  to  Constance  in  1414,  he  employed  his  leisure 
in  exploring  the  libraries  of  Swiss  and  Swabian  convents. 
The  treasures  he  brought  to  light  at  Reichenau,  Wein- 
garten,  and  above  all  at  St  Gall,  restored  many  lost  master- 
pieces of  Latin  literature,  and  supplied  students  with  the 
texts  of  authors  whose  works  had  hitherto  been  accessible 
only  in  mutilated  copies;  In  one  of  his  epistles  he 
describes  how  he  recovered  QuintUian,  part  of  Valerius 
Flaccus,  and  the  commentaries  of  Asconius  Pedianus  at 
St  Gall.  MSS.  of  Lucretius,  Columella,  Silius  Italicus, 
Manilius,  and  Vitruvius  were  unearthed,  copied  by  his 
hand,  and  communicated  to  the  learned.  Wherever  Poggio 
went  he  carried  on  the  same  industry  of  research.  At 
Langres  he  discovered  Cicero's  Oration  for  Cxdna,  at 
Monte  Cassino  a  MS.  of  Frontinus.  He  also  could  boast 
of  having  recovered  Ammianus  Marcellinus,  Nonius  Mar- 
cellus,  Probus,  Flavius  Caper,  and  Eutyches.  If  a  code^ 
could  not  be  obtained  by  fair  means,  he  was  ready  to  use 
fraud,  as  when  he  bribed  3  monk  to  abstract  a  Livy  and 
an  Ammianus  from  the  convent  library  of  Hersfeld. 
Resolute  in  recognizing  erudition  as  the  chief  concern  of 
man,  he  sighed  over  the  folly  of  popes  and  princes,  who 
spent  their  time  in  wars  and  ecclesiastical  disputes  when 
they  might  have  been  more  profitably  employed  in  reviving 
the  lost  lealrning  of  antiquity.  This  point  of  view  is 
eminently  characteristic  of  the  earlier  Italian  Renaissance. 
The  men  of  that  nation  and  of  that  epoch  were  bent  oa 
creating  a  new  intellectual  atmosphere  for  Europe  by 
means  of  vital  contact  with  antiquity.  Poggio,  like  a  still 
more  eminent  humanist  of  his  age,  .iEneas  Sylvius 
Piccolomini,  was  a  great  traveller,  and  wherever  he  went 
he  brought,  like  jEneas  Sylvius,  enlightened  powers  of 
observation  trained  in  liberal  studies  to  bear  upon  the 
manners  of  the  countries  he  visited.  We  owe  to  his  pea 
curious  remarks  on  English  and  Swiss  customs,  valuable 
notes  on  the  remains  of  antique  art  in  Rome,  and  ai 
singularly  striking  portrait  b£  Jerome  of  Prague  as  he 


1^  O  G  —  P  O  I 


275 


appeared  before  the  judges  who  condemned  him  to  the 
stake.  It.  is  necessary  to  dwell  at  length  upon  Poggio's 
devotion  to  the  task  of  recovering  the  classics,  and  upon 
his  disengagement  from  all  but  humanistic  interests, 
because  these  were  the  most  marked  feature  of  his 
character  and  career.  In  literature  he  embraced  the 
whole  sphere  of  contemporary  studies,  and  distinguished 
himself  as  an  orator,  a  writer  of  rhetorical  treatises,  a 
panegyrist  of  the  dead,  a  violent  impugner  of  the  living,  a 
translator  from  the  Greek,  an  epistolographer  and  grave 
historian,  and  a  facetious  compiler  of  fabliaux  in  Latin. 
Of  his  moral  essays  it  may  suffice  to  notice  the  disserta- 
tions On  Nobility,  On  Vicissitudes  of  Fortune,  On  the 
Misery  of  Human  Life,  On  the  Infelicity  of  Princes, 
and  On  Marriage  in  Old  Age.  These  compositions 
belonged  to  a  species  which,  since  Petrarch  set  the  fashion, 
were  very  popular  among  Italian  scholaxs.  They  have 
lost  their  value,  except  for  the  few  matters  of  fact  em- » 
bedded  in  a  mass  of  commonplace  meditation,  and  for 
some  occasionally  brilliant  illustrations.  Poggio's  History 
of  Florence,  written  in  avowed  imitation  of  Livy's  manner, 
requires  separate  mention,  since  it  exemplifies  by  its 
defects  the  weakness  of  that  merely  stylistic  treatment 
which  deprived  so  much  of  Bruni's,  Carlo  Aretino's,  and 
Berabo's  work  of  historical  weight.  A  somewhat  different 
criticism  must  be  passed  on  the  Facetise,  a  collection  of 
humorous  and  indecent  tales  expressed  in  such  Latinity  as 
Poggio  could  command.  This  book  is  chiefly  remarkable 
for  its  unsparing  satires  on  the  monastic  orders  and  the 
secular  clergy.  It  is  also  noticeable  as  illustrating  the 
Latinizing  tendency  of  an  age  which  gave  classic  form  to 
the  lightest  essays  of  the  fancy.  Poggio,  it  may  be 
observed,  was  a  fluent  and  copious  writer  ia  the  Latin 
tongue,  but  not  an  elegant  scholar.  His  knowledge  of  the 
ancient  authors  was  wide,  but  his  taste  was  not  select, 
and  his  erudition  was  superficial.  His  translation  of 
Xenophon's  Cyropxdia  into  Latin  cannot  be  praised  for 
accuracy.  Among  contemporaries  he  passed  for  one  of  the 
most  formidable  polemical  or  gladiatorial  rhetoricians;  and 
a  considerable  section  of  Ms  extant  .works  are  invectives. 
One  of  these,  the  Dialogue  against  Hypocrites,  was  aimed 
in  a  spirit  of  vindictive  hatred  at  the  vices  of  ecclesiastics ; 
another,  written  at  the  request  of  Nicholas  V.,  covered  tiw 
anti-pope  Felix  with  scurrilous  abuse.  But  his  most 
famous  comjx)sitions  in  this  kind  arc  the  personal  invec- 
tives which  he  discharged  against  Filelfo  and  Valla.  All 
the  resources  of  a  copious  and  unclean  Latin  vocabulary 
were  employed  to  degrade  the  objects  of  his  satire ;  and 
every  crime  of  which  humanity  is  capable  was'  ascribed  to 
them  without  discrimination.  In  Filelfo  and  Valla  Poggio 
found  his  match ;  and  Italy  was  amused  for  years  with 
the  spectacle  of  their  indecent  combats.  To  dwell  upon 
such  literary  infamies  would  be  below  the  dignity  of  the 
historian,  were  it  not  that  these  habits  of  the  early  Italian 
humanists  imposed  a  fashion  upon  Europe  which  extended 
to  the  later  age  of  Scaliger's  contentions  with  Scioppius 
and  Milton's  with  Salmasius.  The  greater  part  of  Poggio's 
long  life  was  spent  in  attendance  to  his  duties  in  the 
papal  curia  at  Rome  and  elsewhere.  But  about  the  year 
1452  he  finally  retired  to  Florence,  where  he  was  admitted 
to  the  burghership,  and  on  the  death  of  Carlo  Arelino 
in  1153  was  appointed  chancellor  and  historiographer  to 
the  republic.  He  had  already  built  himself  a  villa  in 
Valdarno,  which  ho  adorned  with  a  collection  of  antique 
sculpture,  coins,  and  inscriptions.  In  1435  he  had  married 
a  girl  of  eighteen  named  VaggiaJ  of  the  famous  Buondel- 
monte  blood.  His  declining  days  were  spent  in  the  dis- 
charge of  his  honourable  Florentine  office  and  in  the  com- 
position of  his  history.  He  died  in  1459,  and  was  buried 
in  the  church  of  Santa  Croce.     A  statue  by  Donatello  and 


a  picture  by  Antonio  del  PoUajuolo  remained  to  com- 
memorate a  citizen  who  chiefly  for  his  services  to  human- 
istic literature  deserved  the  notice  of  posterity. 

Toggio'sworks  were  printed  at  Basel  in  1538,  "ex  ffidibus  Henrici 
Petri."  Dr  Shephera's  Life  of  Poggio  Bracciolini  is  a  good 
authority  on  his  biography.  For  his  po.sition  in  the  history  of  the 
revival,  students  may  consult  Voigt's  IViedcrhtlehung  des  elassicheu 
Allerthums,  and  Sjmonds's  Renaissauce  in  Italy.  (J,  A.  S.) 

POGY,  a  popular  name  for  the  fish  Clupea  menhaden, 
almost  universally  in  use  in  the  States  of  Maine  and 
Massachusetts  (see  Menhaden,  vol.  xvi.  p.  10). 

POINSOT,  Louis  (1777-1859),  mathematician,  -  was 
born  at  Paris  January  3,  1777.  In  1794  he  became  » 
scholar  at  the  Polytechnic  School,  which  ho  left  in  1796  ti 
act  as  a  civil  engineer.  In  1804  he  was  appointed  pro- 
fessor  of  mathematics  at  the  Lyceum,  in  1809  professor 
of  applied  mathematics  and  in  1816  examiner  at  the 
Polytechnic  School.  On  the  death  of  Lagrange  in  1813, 
Poinsot  was  elected  to  his  place  in  the  French  Academy  ; 
and  in  1840  he  became  a  member  of  the  superior  council 
of  public  instruction.  In  1846  he  was  made  an  officer  of 
the  legion  of  honour  ;  and  on  the  formation  of  the  senate 
in  1852  he  was  chosen  a  member  of  that  body.  He  died 
at  Paris,  December  5,  1859.  "Poinsot's  earliest  wort  was 
his  £lemens  de  Statique,  in  which  ho  introduces  the  idea  of 
statical  couples  and  investigates  their  properties.  In  the 
Theorie  Nouvelle  de  la  Rotation  des  Corps  he  treats  the 
motion  of  a  rigid  body  geometricaUy,  and  shows  that  the 
most  general  motion  of  such  a  body  can  be  represented  at 
any  instant  by  a  rotation  about  an  axis  combined  with  a 
translation  parallel  to  this  axis,  and  that  any  motion  of  a 
body  of  which  one  point  is  fixed  may  bo  produced  by  the 
rolling  of  a  cone  fixed  in  the  body  on  a  cone  fixed  in 
space.  The  previous  treatment  of  the  motion  of  a  rigid 
body  had  in  every  case  been  purely  analytical,  and  so  gava 
no  aid  to  the  formation  of  a  mental  picture  of  the  body's 
motion  ;  and  the  great  value  of  this  work-  lies  in  the  fact 
that,  as  Poinsot  himself  says  in  the  introduction,  it  enables 
us  to  represent  to  ourselves  the  motion  of  a  rigid  body  as 
clearly  as  that  of  a  moving  point.  Poinsot  also  con- 
tributed a  number  of  papers  on  pure  and  applied  mathe- 
matics to  Liouville's  Journal  and  to  the  Journal  of  the 
Polytechnic  School 

POINT  DE  GALLE.     See  Galle,  vol.  x.  p.  40. 

POINTE  A.  PITRE,  the  principal  port  of  the  island  of 
Guadeloupe  (q.v.). 

POISONS.  An  exact  definition  of  the  word  "poison" 
is  by  no  means  easy.  There  is  no  legal  definition  of  what 
constitutes  a  poison,  and  the  definitions  usually  proposed 
are  apt  to  include  either  too  much  or  too  little.  Gene- 
rally, a  poison  may  be  defined  to  bo  a  substance  having 
an  inherent  deleterious  property,  rendering  it  capable  of 
destroying  life  by  whatever  avenue  it  is  taken  into  the 
system;  or  it  is  a  substance  which  when  introduced  into  the 
system,  or  applied  externally,  injures  health  or  destroys  lifo 
irrespective  of  mechanical  means  or  direct  thermal  changes. 
In  popular  language,  a  poison  is  a  substance  capable  of 
destroying  hfe  when  taken  in  small  quantity ;  but  a  sub- 
stance which  destroys  lifo  by  mcchani<al  means  as,  e.g., 
powdered  glass,  is  not,  strictly  s|)caking,  a  poison. 

The  subject  of  toxicology  forms  one  of  the  most  important 
branches  of  Medical  Jurlsprudknce  (7.1'.).  The  medical 
jurist  should  be  familiar  with  the  natuj-o  and  actions  of 
poisons,  the  symptoms  which  they  produce,  the  circum- 
stances which  modify  their  working,  the  pathological  results 
of  their  action,  and  the  methods  of  combating  the.sc. 

Action  of  Poisons. — Poisons  may  exert  a  twofold  action. 
This  may  bo  either  local,  or  remote,  or  both  local  and 
remote.  The  local  action  of  a  poison  is  usually  one  of 
corrosion,  inflammation,  or  a  direct  effect  upon  the  sensory 
or  motor   nerves.     The   remote    actions   of   poisons  aro 


27G 


POISONS 


Msually  of  a  specific  character,  though  somo  writers  group 
the  remote  effects  of  poisons  under  two  heads,  and  s[)eak 
of  the  common  and  the  specilifc  remote  effects  of  a  poison. 
The  local  action  of  a  poison  of  the  corrosive  class  is  usually 
so  well  marked  and  obvious  that  the  fact  of  the  adminis- 
tration of  a  poison  of  this  class  is  generally  unmistakable. 
The  same  may  be  said,  in  a  less  degree,  of  the  irritant 
poisons,  especially  the  mineral  irritants ;  but  here  the 
symptoms  sometimes  so  closely  simulate  those  of  natural 
disease  as  to  render  the  recognition  of  the  administration  of 
poison  a  matter  of  difficulty.  Henco  an  accurate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  remote  specific  effects  of  the  various  poisons 
is  indispensable  to  the  medical  jurist.  The  class  of  poisons 
which  has  been  administered  or  taken  will  thus  be  sug- 
gested to  his  mind  by  the  observation  of  the  symptoms ; 
and  not  unfrequently  the  specific  poison  taken  will  be 
suspected.  It  is  almost  universally  admitted  that  absorp- 
tion of  a  poison  is  necessary  for  the  production  of  its 
specific  remote  effects,  and  the  old  notion  that  a  poison 
may  kill,  by  its  action  through  the  nervous  system,  without 
absorption,  is  abandoned. 

Modifying  Circumstances. — The  ordinary  action  of  a 
poison  may  be  greatly  modifisd  by  the  largeness  of  the 
dose,  by  the  state  of  aggregation,  admixture,  or  of  chemi- 
cal combination  of  the  poison,  by  the  part  or  membrane 
to  which  it  is  applied,  and  by  the  condition  of  the  patient. 
Thus,  for  example,  opium  may  be  a  medicine  or  a  poison 
according  to  the  dose  in  which  it  is  given  ;  and  a  dose  of 
the'  drug  which  may  be  beneficial  to  an  adult  in  certain 
states  of  the  system  may  be  fatal  to  a  child,  or  to  an 
adult  when  suffering  from  some  forms  of  disease.  All 
barium  salts,  again,  are  poisonous,  except  the  quite  in- 
soluble sulphate.  The  simple  cyanides,  and  many  double 
cyanides,  are  highly  poisonous ;  but  yellow  prussiate  of 
potash,  which  is  a  double  cyanide  of  iron  and  potassium, 
is  almost  without  action  upon  the  system.  The  part  or 
tissue  to  which  a  poison  is  applied  greatly  affects  the 
activity  of  a  poison,  owing  to  the  varying  rapidity  with 
which  absorption  takes  place  through  the  cutaneous, 
mucous,  and  serous  surfaces,  and  by  the  other  tissues  of 
the  body.  Curare,  an  arrow  poison,  may  be  swallowed 
in  considerable  quantity  without  appreciable  result,  whilst 
a  minute  quantity  of  the  same  substance  introduced  into 
a  wound  is  speedily  fataL  Idiosyncracy  has  an  important 
bearing  in  toxicology.  Pork,  mutton,  certain  kinds  of 
fish,  more  especially  shell  fish  so-called,  and  mushrooms 
have  each  produced  all  the  symptoms  of  violent  irritant 
poisoning,  whilst  other  persons  who  have  partaken  of 
the  same  food  at  the  same  time  have  experienced  no  ill 
effects.  Some  persons  are  stated,  on  good  authority,  to 
be  capable  of  taking  with  impunity  such  poisons  as  opium, 
corrosive  sublimate,  or  arsenic,  in  enormous  doses, — and 
this  irrespective  of  habit,  which  is  known  to  have  such  an 
influence  in  modifying  the  effects  of  some  poisons,  notably 
the  narcotics.  A  tolerance  of  poisons  is  sometimes  en- 
gendered by  disease,  so  that  a  poison  may  fail  to  pro- 
duce its  customary  effect.  Thus,  opium  is  tolerated  in 
large  quantities  in  tetanus,  and  in  delirium  tremens ;  and 
mercurial  compounds  may  in  some  febrile  affections  fail  to 
produce  the  usual  constitutional  effects  of  the  metal.  On 
the  other  hand,  diseases  which  impede  the  elimination  of  a 
poison  may  intensify  its  effects. 

The  evidence  that  a  poison  has  been  administered  is 
based  upon  the  symptoms  produced,  on  the  appearances  met 
with  in  the  body  after  death,  on  the  analysis  of  articles  of 
food  and  drink,  of  excreta  and  ejecta,  and  of  the  organs  of 
the  body  after  death,  and  on  physiological  experiments 
made  with  substances  extracted  from  the  same  articles. 
These  physiological  experiments  are  usually  made  upon 
aniDials,  but  in  some  cases,  as  for  instance  when  aconite 


has  to  be  searched  for,  the  pjiysiological  experiments  mu6t 
be  made  also  upon  the  human  subject.  The  evidence 
obtained  from  one  or  more  of  these  sources,  as  compared 
with  the  properties  or  effects  of  various  known  poisons, 
will  enable  the  medical  jurist  to  form  an  opinion  as  to  the 
administration  or  non-administration  of  a  poison. 

The  sym}>toins  exhibited  by  the  patient  during  life 
rarely  fail  to  afford  some  clue  to  the  poison  taken. 
Persons  may,  however,  be  found  dead  of  whose  history 
nothing  can  be  learned.  Here  post-mortem  appearances, 
chemical  analysis,  and,  it  may  be,  physiological  experi- 
ments are  all-important  for  the  elucidation  of  the  nature 
of  the  case. 

Poisoning  may  be  acute  or  chronic.  The  general  condi- 
tions which  should  arouse  a  suspicion  of  acute  poisoning 
are  the  sudden  onset  of  serious  and  increasingly  alarming 
symptoms  in  a  person  previously  in  good  health,  especially 
if  there  be  pain  in  the  region  of  the  stomach,  or,  where 
there  is  complete  prostration  of  the  vital  powers,  a  cada- 
veric aspect,  and  speedy  death.  In  all  such  cases  the  aid 
of  the  analytical  chemist  must  be  called  in  either  to  con- 
firm well-founded  or  to  rebut  ill-founded  suspicions. 

The  mode  of  treatment  to  be  adopted  in  the  case  of 
poisoned  persons  varies  greatly  according  to  the  nature  of 
the  poison.  The  first  indication,  when  the  poison  has 
been  swallowed,  is  to  evacuate  the  stomach ;  and  this  may 
usually  be  done  by  means  of  the  stomach-pump  when  the 
poison  is  not  of  the  corrosive  class ;  or  the  stomach  may 
be  gently  washed  out  by  means  of  a  funnel  and  flexible 
siphon-tube.  In  many  cases  emetics  are  valuable.  Anti- 
dotes and  counter-poisons  may  then  be  given.  The  former 
are  such  substances  as  chalk  to  neutralize  the  mineral  acids 
and  oxalic  acid ;  the  latter  have  a  physiological  counter- 
action, and  are  such  as  atropine,  which  is  a  counter-poison 
to  morphia.  These  may  usually  be  administered  most 
effectively  by  hypodermic  injection.  The  stomach  may  to 
a  certain  degree  be  protected  from  the  injurious  effects  of 
irritants  by  the  administration  of  mucilaginous  drinks ; 
alkaloids  may  be  rendered  sparingly  soluble  by  means  of 
astringent  substances  containing  tannin  ;  and  pain  may  be 
relieved  by  means  of  opium,  unless  contra-indicated  by  the 
nature  of  the  poison.  The  effects  of  the  convulsant 
poisons,  such  as  strychnine,  may  be  combated  by  means  of 
the  inhalation  of  chloroform. 

The  classification  of  poisons  is  a  matter  of  difficulty. 
Various  attempts  have  been  made  to  classify  them  scienti- 
fically, but  with  no  signal  success ;  and  perhaps  the  best 
system  is  that  which  groups  the  various  poisons  according 
to  the  more  obvious  symptoms  which  they  produce.  Our 
knowledge  of  the  more  intimate  action  of  poisons  is  still 
too  imperfect  to  admit  of  any  useful  classification  according 
to  the  manner  in  which  they  specifically  affect  the  vital 
organs.  Poisons  may  in  the  manner  indicated  be  classified 
as  (1)  Corrosives,  (2)  Irritants,  (3)  Neurotics,  and  (4) 
Gaseous  Poisons.  The  subject  of  poisonous  food  has 
already  been  treated  under  the  heading  Medical  Juris- 
prudence (vol.  XV.  pp.  781-2). 

1.  Corrosives. 

The  t3rpical  member  of  this  class  is  corrosive  sublimate, 
the  soluble  chloride  of  mercury.  In  it  are  included  also 
the  concentrated  mineral  acids  (sulphuric,  nitric,  and 
hydrochloric) ;  oxalic  acid  ;  the  alkalies  (potash,  soda,  and 
ammonia)  and  their  carbonates ;  acid,  alkaline,  and  cor- 
rosive salts  of  the  metals  (such  as  bisulphate  of  potash, 
alum,  butter  of  antimony,  and  nitrate  of  silver) ;  also 
carbolic  acid. 

The  symptoms  produced  by  the  mineral  acids  and  the 
alkalies  are  almost  altogether  referrible  to  local  action;  but 
some  corrosive  poisons,    such   as  carbolic   acid,  produce, 


POISONS 


277 


besides  a  local  action,  remote  and  specific  constitutional 
effects.  The  symptoms  of  corrosive  poisoning  are  marked 
and  unmistakable,  except  in  infants.  Immediately  on 
ewallowing  the  corrosive  substance,  an  acid,  Ciustic,  or 
metallic  burning  sensation  is  experienced  in  the  mouth, 
fauces,  gullet,  and  region  of  the  stomach,  and  this  speedily 
extends  over  the  whole  belly  ;  as  a  rule  vomiting  speedily 
follows.  In  the  case  of  the  mineral  acids,  aiul  in  oxalic 
acid  poisoning,  the  vomit  is  so  acid  that  if  it  falls  upon  a 
marble  or  concrete  floor  effervescence  ensues.  No  relief 
follows  the  evacuation  of  the  stomach.  The  ejected  matters 
contain  blood,  and  even  fragments  of  the  corroded  walls  of 
the  alimentary  canal.  The,  belly  becomes  distended  with 
gas,  and  horribly  tender.  High  fever  prevails.  The  mouth 
is  found  to  be  corroded.  Death  usually  ensues  within  a 
few  hours  ;  or,  if  the  patient  survives,  he  or  she  may  perish 
miserably,  months  after  the  poison  was  taken,  through 
starvation  consequent  upon  the  gradual  contraction  of  the 
gullet,  brought  about  by  its  corrosion  and  subsequent 
healing. 

The  treatment  of  corrosive  poisoning  consists  in  very 
gently  emptying  and  washing  out  the  stomach  by  means 
of  a  soft  siphon-tube.  The  stomach-pump  cannot  be  used 
with  safety  in  consequence  of  the  weakening  of  the  walls 
of  the  .  stomach  by  corrosion.  Demulcents  and  opiates 
may  be  subsequently  administered.  After  death  from 
corrosive  poisoning  the  walls  of  the  stomach  are  found 
corroded,  and  even  perforated. 

1.  Corrosive  Sublimate. — Here  all  the  signs  and  symptoms  of 
corrosive  poisoning  are  produced  in  their  severest  form.  A  grain  or 
two  of  this  poison  may  prove  fatal.  Fortunately  there  is  an  cfticient 
antidote  in  white  of  egg,  tlie  albumen  of  which,  if  administered 
at  once,  renders  the  salt  insoluble.  The  eggs  should  be  divested  of 
their  yolks,  beaten  up  with  water,  and  given  promptly,  repeatedly, 
and  abundantly,  followed  by  emetics.  Poisoning  by  corrosive 
sublimate  may  be  followed  by  the  specific  toxic  effects  of  mercury, 
such  as  salivation  and  tremor. 

Workers  in  mercury,  such  as  water-gilders,  looking-glass  makers, 
and  the  makers  of  barometers  and  thermometers,  are  apt  to  suffer 
from  a  peculiar  form  of  shaking  palsy,  known  as  "the  trembles," 
or  mercurial  tremor.  This  disease  affects  most  frequently  those 
who  are  exposed  to  mercurial  fumes.  The  victim  is  affected  with 
tremors  when  an  endeavour  is  made  to  exert  the  muscles,  so  that  he 
is  unable,  for  instance,  to  convey  a  glass  of  water  to  the  lips  steadily, 
and  when  lie  walks  he  breaks  into  a  dancing  trot.  The  treatment 
consists  in  removal  from  the  mercurial  atmosi)here,  baths,  fresli  air, 
and  the  administration  of  iron  and  other  tonics. 

2.  Mineral  Acids. — These  are  oil  of  vitriol  or  sulphuric  acid, 
aqua  fortis  or  nitric  acid,  and  spirit  of  salt  or  hydrochloric  (muri- 
atic) acid.  These  when  taken  in  a  concentrated  form  produce  well- 
marked  symptoms  of  corrosion.  When  they  are  diluted,  the  symp- 
toms are  those  of  an  irritant  poison.  Nitric  acid  stains  tlie  mouth 
and  skin  of  a  yellow  colour.  The  treatment  consists  in  the  admin- 
istration of  alkalies  or  their  carbonates,  chalk,  whiting,  or  even 
uncolourcd  plaster  scraped  off  tho  walls  or  ceiling,  with  the  view 
of  neutralizing  the  acid. 

3.  Oxalic  acid  is  a  vegetable  acid.  When  taken  in  tho  state  of 
concentrated  solution  it  acts  as  a  corrosive,  but  when  diluted  as  an 
irritant.  But  it  also  exerts  a  specific  effect,  killing  tho  patient  by 
cai'diac  syucopo  not  unfrcqueutly  within  a  few  minutes.  When  a 
person  after  tnking  a  crystalline  substance,  tasting  strongly  ucid, 
dies  within  15  or  30  minutes,  after  the  manifestation  of  great  weak- 
ness, small  pulse,  and  failure  of  tho  heart's  power,  poisoning  by 
oxalic  ncid  is  almost  certain.  The  treatment  consists  in  promptly 
Administering  an  emetic,  followed  by  chalk,  whitinp,  or  any  sub- 
stance containing  carbonate  of  calcium.  The  alkaline  carbonates 
are  valueless,  for  tho  alkaline  oxalates  are  almost  aa  poisonous  as 
oxalic  ncid  itself. 

•4.  T/ic  Alkalies. — Potash,  soda,  and  their  carbonates  and  sul- 
phides pioduco  symptoms  resembling  those  of  tho  mineral  acids, 
lexcept  that  purging  is  a  usual  accom]aiiimcnt. 

5.  Carbolic  add  when  taken  in  the  form  of  a  concentrated  liquid 
beta  aa  a  corrosive,  causing  wliiteiiing  and  shrinking  of  all  the 
animal  membrnncs  with  which  it  comes  in  contact.  Tho  patient, 
liowevcr,  becomes  speedily  comatose,  tho  poison  acting  profoundly 
ppoii  the  great  nervous  centres.  A  curious  phenomenon — black  or 
dark  green  urine— is  commonly  observed  aftir  the  administration  of 
this  poison.  Sacchanitcd  lime-water,  diluted  and  drunk  freely, 
•ml  a  solution  of  suliiliato  of  soda  are  perhaps  tho  most  useful 
tcmedios. 


2.  Irritant  Pottons. 

Irritant  poisons  are  of  two  classes — metallic  irritants, 
and  vegetable  and  animal  irritants,  these  latter  being  for 
convenience  grouped  together.  Perhaps  none  of  the 
irritants  act  purely  as  such,  the  irrit-int  symptoms  being 
usually  accompanied  by  well-marked  effects  upon  the 
nervous  system.  An  irritant  is  a  substance  which  causes 
inflammation  of  the  part  to  which  it  is  applied, — usually 
the  alimentary  canal.  Arsenic  is  by  far  the  most  im- 
portant of  the  metallic  irritants.  Other  irritants  are  the 
moderately  diluted  acids,  many  metallic  salts,  such  as 
those  of  antimony,  lead,  copper,  zinc,  and  chromium. 
Elaterium,  gamboge,  aloes,  colocynth,  and  croton  oil  aro 
good  examples  of  vegetable  irritants ;  and  cantharides  of 
animal  irritants.  Animal  and  vegetable  food  when  decom- 
posed, or  infested  with  certain  organisms  known  as  bacteria, 
may  produce  violent  irritant  symptoms.  The  symptoms 
produced  by  irritant  poisons  are  usually  more  slow  in  their 
development  than  where  a  corrosive  has  been  administered. 
Usually,  after  an  interval,  greater  or  less  according  to  the 
specific  nature  of  the  irritant  swallowed,  a  burning  pain  is 
felt  in  the  mouth,  throat,  and  gullet,  with  a  sense  of  con- 
striction of  the  parts,  and  followed  by  burning  pain  in  the 
region  of  the  stomach.  This  is  increased,  and  not  allevi- 
ated, by  pressure,  a  mark  which  serves  to  distinguish  the 
attack  from  one  of  ordinary  colic.  Nausea,  vomiting,  and 
thirst  ensue,  speedily  followed  by  distension  of  the  whole 
abdomen,  which  is  exceedingly  tender  to  the  touch. 
Ordinarily  the  vomiting  is  followed  by  profuse  diarrhoea. 
Should  the  poison  not  be  speedily  eliminated  in  the 
vomited  and  faecal  matters,  inflammatory  fever  sets  in, 
followed  by  collapse ;  and  death  may  ensue  in  a  few 
hours. 

Therfe  is  danger  of  confounding  irritant  poisoning  with 
some  forms  of  natural  disease,  such  as  gastritis  and  gastric 
ulcer,  colic,  peritonitis,  cholera,  and  rupture  of  the  intes- 
tines. 

1.  .lYraenic  is  a  specific  irritant  poison.  Almost  all  the  compounds 
of  this  metal  aro  poisonous.  The  term  "arsenic"  is,  however, 
most  commonly  applied,  not  to  the  metal  itself,  but  to  its  lower 
oxide,  arsenious  oxide,  which  is  also  known  as  uhite  arsenic.  By 
whatever  channel  arsenic  is  introduced  into  the  system,  it  invari- 
ably afl'ects  specifically  tho  stomach  and  intestines,  causing  conges- 
tion or  indammation.  Tho  common  sources  of  arsenical  poisoning 
aro  the  taking  of  white  arsenic,  which  causes  acute  poisoning,  anu 
the  inhalation  of  dust  from  arsenical  wall-iiapers  and  textile  fabrics, 
whereby  a  chronic  form  of  poisoning  is  induced. 

The  symptoms  of  acute  arsenical  poisoning  do  not  come  on,  as  in 
tho  case  of  corrosive  poisoning,  immediately  after  the  jioison  is 
swallowed.  There  is  usually  an  interval  of  h.alf  an  hour  or  so  beforo 
prominent  symptoms  supervene.  Generally,  after  a  feeling  of  faint- 
ncss  and  depression,  an  intense  burning  pain  is  felt  in  the  region 
of  tho  stomach,  with  tenderness  on  pressure.  Nausea  and  vomit- 
ing generally  follow,  increased  by  every  act  of  swallowing.  Unliko 
wliat  occurs  in  ordinary  vomiting,  the  pain  and  sickness  are  not 
relieved  by  tho  evacuation  of  tho  stomach.  Vomiting  is  followed 
by  purging,  blood  being  frequently  distingnishaldo  in  tho  evacua- 
tions. Tnero  is  thirst,  a  feeble  irregular  pulso,  and  a  perspiring 
clammy  skin.  Tho  victim  usually  succumbs  within  eighteen  to 
seventy-two  hours  ;  if  he  survives  the  Litter  period,  good  hopes  may 
bo  entertained  of  liis  recovery.  Tho  treatment  consists  in  tho  use 
of  tho  stomach-pump,  emetics,  such  as  mustard  and  warm  water, 
demulcents,  anil  tho  free  administration  of  magnesia  emulsion  and 
eit'nsr  freshly  precipitated  ferric  liydiato  or  dialysed  iron.  Ferric 
hydrate,  and  the  solution  known  as  dialysed  iron,  have  tho  property 
of  rendering  arsenious  anhydride  insoluble. 

Chronic  arsenical  poisoning  is  usually  accidental.  Tho  inhala- 
tion of  arsenical  vapours  in  factories,  or  of  arsonical  dust  from  green 
wall-papers  and  in  tho  manufactuio  of  artificinl  flowers,  aro  commcii 
sources  of  this  form  of  poisoning.  Ai'senic  when  thus  slowly 
absorbed  into  tho  system  produces  congrslion  and  inflammation  of 
tho  mucou's  membranes,  redness  anii  irritation  of  tho  conjunctiva-, 
sore  throat,  a  peculiar  eruption  of  tho  skin,  and  diarihcva.  Tho 
treatment  consists  in  removal  from  tho  poisoned  atmosphere,  ard 
the  administration  of  tonics. 

Arsenic-eating,  or  the  ability  of  some  persons  to  take  relatively 
.Inrgo  doses  of  arsenic  habitually,  is  a  woll-catablislicd  fact     The 


278 


POISONS 


cause  of  tliis  singular  immunity  from  the  ordinary  results  of  arsenic 
is  quite  unknown. 

2.  Lead.  — The  salts  of  lead,  more  especially  the  acetate  (sugar  of 
lead),  are  irritant  poisons  of  no  very  great  activity  ;  and,  though 
occasionally  death  ensues,  recovery  is  tlio  rule.  Chrome  yellow, 
or  lead  cliromate,  is  a  powerful  irritant  poison.  All  chromates  are, 
indeed,  irritant  poisons. 

Chronic  lead  poisoning  is  a  much  more  common  affection  than 
acute  irritant  poisoning  by  lead.  When  lead  in  any  form  is  slowly 
absorbed  into  the  system,  a  peculiar  affection  results,  known  as  satur- 
nine poisoning,  and  characterized  by  two  prominent  symptoms — 
colic  and  paralysis.  'Workers  in  lead  and  its  compounds,  such  as 
plumbers  and  painters,  are  frequently  affected  by  this  form  of 
disease.  Water,  especially  soft  water  or  such  as  is  contaminated 
with  sewage,  on  being  passed  through  leaden  pipes  or  stored  in  leaden 
cisterns  may  become  contaminated  with  lead  to  a  dangerous  extent. 
Acid  liquids,  such  as  cider,  vinegar,  &c.,  may  also  contain  lead  as 
an  impurity.  Potmen,  who  drink  beer  which  has  rested  for  some 
time  in  pewter  vessels,  are  also  the  occasional  victims  of  saturnine 
poisoning.  Water  which  contains  lead  in  a  soluble  form  to  the 
e,ittent  of  more  than  one-tenth  of  a  grain  per  gallon  should  not  be 
used  for  drinking  purposes.  If  more  than  this  quantity  be  present, 
the  water  when  placed  in  a  wliite  porcelain  dish  will  become  more 
or  less  dark  in  colour  on  the  addition  of  a  few  drops  of  a  solution 
of  sulphuretted  hydrogen. 

The  commonest  manifestation  of  chronic  lead  poisoning  is  lead 
colic, — a  pec\iliar  twisting  and  agonizing  sensation  around  the 
navel,  attended  with  obstinate  constipation.  This,  Uke  all  forms 
of  chronic  lead  poisoning,  is  almost  invariably  attended  ■with  a 
peculiar  blue  line  on  tha  margin  of  the  gums,  and  .when  this  is 
present  the  nature  of  the  affection  can  scarcely  be  doubtful.  The 
treatment  consists  in  the  free  use  of  purgatives,  opiates,  and  the 
internal  use  of  potassium  iodide,  which  favo^rs  the  elimination  of 
the  metal  through  the  urine.  "Wrist-drop"  or  lead  paralysis  is  also 
B  common  result  of  the  ingestion  of  lead.  It  consists  in  a  paralysis 
of  the  extensor  muscles  of  the  forearm,  accompanied  by  a  wasting 
of  that  structure.  A  dropping  of  the  wrist  is  the  result  of  this 
degeneration.  Baths,  the  use  of  galvanism,  and  the  administration 
of  potassium  iodide  and  tonics  usually  afford  relief.  Should,  how- 
ever, the  patient  in  any  form  of  lead  poisoning  be  exposed  for  a 
lengthened  period  to  the  effects  of  the  metal,  degenerations  of  the 
liver,  kidneys,  and  brain  supervene,  with  fatal  results. 

In  all  cases  of  lead  poisoning  removal  of  the  exciting  cause  is 
indispensable ;  the  worker  in  lead  must  suspend  his  occupation 
for  a  time ;  the  use  of  contaminated  aiticles  of  food  or  drink  must 
cease. 

3.  Copper. — The  soluble  salts  of  copper,  such  as  blue  vitriol  (the 
sulphate)  and  verdigris  (subcarbonate  and  subacetate),  are  emetic  and 
irritant  salts.  Their  emetic  effects  usually,  but  not  invariably, 
secure  their  prompt  rejection  by  the  stomach.  Occasionally  fatal 
effects  liave  resulted  from  their  administration.  Copper  becomes 
accidentally  mixed  with  articles  of  dietary  in  a  variety  of  modes, 
[t  is  also  used  for  improving  the  colour  of  preserved,  fruits  and 
vegetables.  Its  deleterious  properties  when  thus  used  in  minute 
quantities  have  been  both  asserted  and  denied.  There  is,  however, 
a  large  body  of  evidence  in  favour  of  the  at  all  events  occasional 
poisonous  effects  of  minute  quantities  of  copper. 

4.  Zinc  sails  andbarium  sails,  except  the  quite  insoluble  barium 
sulphate,  are  irritant  poisons ;  and  barium  compounds  act  also 
upon  the  central  nervous  system. 

5.  Chromates,  e.g.,  bichromate  of  potash,  are  violent  irritants. 
Chrome  yellow,  or  lead  chromate,  has  already  been  mentioned. 

6.  Phosphorus. — Of-  the  two  chief  forms  of  the  elements — the 
yellow  or  ordinary  and  the  red  or  amorphous — the  former  only 
is  poisonous.  Rarely  there  is  met  with  a  chronic  form  of  poison- 
ing among  workers  in  the  material,  arising  from  the  inhalation 
of  phosphorus  vapours.  Its  special  characteristic  is  a  peculiar 
necrosis  or  death  of  the  bony  structure  of  the  lower  jaw.  Acute 
phosphorus  poisoning  is  moro  common.  Phosphorus  is  used  for 
tipping  matches,  and  is  also  the  basis  of  several  vermin  destroyers. 
When  swallowed,  phosphorus  produces  a  variable  amount  of  irri- 
tation and  disturbance  of  the  alimentary  canal.  There  may  be 
fi  burning  sensation  felt  in  the  mouth,  throat,  and  stomach, 
followed  by  vomiting.  ■  The  vomited  ijiatters,  and  also  the  excreta, 
may  be  observed  to  be  luminous  in  the  dark.  These  symptoms 
usually  subside,  and  for  three  or  four  days  the  person  appears  to 
have  recovered  his  or  her  usual  health.  The  liver  then  enlarges, 
and  this  and  other  structures  undergo  fatty  degeneration ;  jaundice 
supervenes ;  and  the  patient  dies  in  a  few  days  in  a  semi-typhoid 
condition.  Rarely  there  is  recovery.  Oil  of  turpentine  is 
thonght  to  bo  the  best  remedy.  Most  of  the  organs  undergo 
fatty  degeneration. . 

7.  Fcgclal'lc  Irritants. — These  produce  drastic  purgative  effects. 
Frequently  the  nature  of  the  illness  may  be  ascertained  by  the  dis- 
poyery  of  jjortions  of  the  vegetable  substance — recognizable  by  the 
iuicroscope— in  tlie  matters  ejected  by  the  patient. 

8-  Cantharitlcs. — The  administration  of  Canihakides  (j.v.)  is 


followed  by  vomiting,  purging,  strangury,  or  even  entire  inability 
to  pass  the  urine.  In  tha  ejecta  portions  of  the  shining  elytra  or 
wing-cases  of  the  fly  may  often  be  recognized.  There  is  often  grtat 
excitement  of  the  Boxual  proclivities.  The  uctive  principle  of  the 
fly,  cantharidin,  may  be  extracted  from  suspected  matters  by  means 
of  chloroform,  and  the  residue  left  after  the  evaporation  of  this 
blisters  the  lip  or  any  tender  mucous  surface  to  which  it  is  applied. 
Demulcent  remedies,  with  opiate  enemata  and  injections,  aflord  tha 
best  relief  by  way  of  treatment. 

3.  Neurotics. 

It  is  premature,  for  the  present,  to  attempt  a  systematic 
division  of  this  most  important  class,  which  embraces 
poisons  so  widely  different  in  their  actions  as  opium  and 
strychnine.     We  at  once  proceed  to  details. 

1.  Frussie  or  Bydfocyanic  Aeid, — Hydrocyanic  acid  is  one  of  tha 
best-known  poisons,  and  a  very  deadly  one.  In  the  pure  state  it  is 
said  to  kill  with  lightning-like  rapidity.  It  is  met  with  in  commerce 
only  in  a  dilute  state.  Id  Great  Britain  two  kinds  of  acid  are  com- 
monly sold — the  pharmacopoeial  acid,  containing  2  per  cent,  of 
anhydrous  prussio  acid,  and  Scheele's  acid,  containing  4  or  5  per 
cent.  Less  than  a  teaspoonful  of  the  2  per  cent,  acid  has  caused 
death.  Given  in  fatal  doses,  the  symptoms  of  piiissic-acid  poisoning 
set  in  with  great  rapidity ;  and,  in  consequence  of  the  readiness  with 
which  the  poison  is  absorbed  from  the  stom.ach  and  diffused  through 
the  circulation,  the  onset  of  symptoms  is  reckoned  by  seconds  rather 
than  by  minutes.  Occasionally  the  victim  may  be  able  to  perform 
a  few  voluntary  actions  before  alarming  symptoms  are.  developed. 
There  is  f  rst  a  very  brief  stage  of  difficult  breathing,  and  slow 
action  of  the  hpart,  with  a  tendency  for  the  organ  to  stop  in  the  state 
of  dilatation.  With  widely-dilated  pupils  of  the  eye,' the  patient  is 
then  seized  with  violent  in'egular  convulsive  movements.  The 
rhythm  of  the  respiratory  movements  is  disturbed,  and  the  coun- 
tenance becomps  of  a  bluish  east.  The  patient  now  sinks  to  the 
ground  with  complete  loss  of  muscular  power ;  and  the  third  or 
asphyxial  stage  is  reached,  in  which  tliere  are  slow  gasping  respira- 
tions, loss  of  pulse,  and  parqlysis  of  motion.  Death  is  frequently  pre- 
ceded by  muscular  spasms.  The  fotidroyant  character  of  the  illness, 
and  the  speedy  death  of  tha  patient,  coupled  with  the  peculiar  odoui 
of  the  acid  in  the  breath  and  atmosphere  around  the  body,  seldom 
leave  any  doubt  as  to  the  nature  of  the  case.  The  treatment  con- 
sists in  inhalation  of  the  fumes  of  strong  ammonia,  drinks  of  warm 
and  cold  water  alternately,  friction  of  the  limbs,  and  artificial 
respiration.  The  subcntaceous  injection  of  atropine,  which  acts  as 
a  cardiac  stimulant,  may  prove  serviceable. 

Other  soluble  cyanides,  more  especially  cyanide  of  potassium,  a 
salt  largely  used  in  photography  and  in  the  arts,  are  equally 
poisonous  with  hydrooyanio  acid.     See  Prussio  Acid. 

2.  Opium. — In  consequence  ofthe  extent  to  which  OviVJi{q.v.),it» 
preparations,  and  its  active  alkaloid  ,-norphia  are  used  for  the  relief 
of  pain,  poisoning  by  opinm  is  of  frequent  occurrence.  It  is  largely 
used  by  suicides;  and  children,  being  very  susceptible  to  its  influ- 
ence, frequently  die  from  misadventure  after  administration  of  an 
overdose  of  the  dmg.  The  ordinary  preparations  of  opium  are  tbii 
drug  itself,  which  is  the  inspissated  juice  of  the  Oriental  poppy,  and 
the  tincture,  commonly  known  as  laudanum.  ■  Opium  contains  a 
variety  of  more  or  less  active  principles,  the  chief  of  which  is  the 
alkaloid  morphia,  which  is  present  in  good  opium  to  the  extent  of 
about  10  per  cent,  in  combination  with  mecouic  acid,  which  is  phy- 
siologically inactive.  Opium  is  largely  used  by  Eastern  nations  for 
smoking,  and  there  is  great  discrepancy  of  opinion  as  to  the  extent  to 
which  opiiim  smoking  is  deleterious.  The  preponderance  of  opinion 
is  in  favour  of  the  view  that  opium  smoking  is  a  demoralizing, 
degrading,  and  pernicious  habit,  and  that  its  victims  are  suffereia 
both  in  body  «nd  mind  from  its  use. 

The  first  symptom  of  the  administration  of  a  poisonous  dose  of 
opium  is' a  state  of  exaltation — ^which  may  not,  however,  be  well- 
marked — soon  passing  into  a-  second  stage,  in  which  the  symp- 
toms are  those  of  congestion  of  the  brain.  The  countenance  is 
suffused  and  of  a  bluish  cast,  known  as  cyanosis,  due  to  imperfect 
aeration  of  the  blood;  the  pupils  of  the  eyes  are  minutely  con< 
traeted,  the  skin  dry  and  warm,  and  the  breathing  slow,  laboured, 
and  becoming  stertorous.  The  patient  is  apparently  unconscious, 
but  may  be  roused  by  shaking,  or  by  shouting  into  the  ear.  When 
this  has  taken  place,  the  breathing  becomes  more  natural,  and  the 
skin  less  cyanosed.  If  he  bo  left  alone  there  is  a  speedy  relapse  into 
a  state  of  insen.sibility.  If  efl'ective  treatment  be  not  adopted,  a 
third  stage  of  prostration  supervenes,  in  which  there  is  profound 
coma,  and  it  may  be  impossible  to  arouse  the  patient.  The  pupils 
of  the  eyes  are  now  contracted  to  the  size  of  pin-points.  Breathing 
is  slow,  shallow,  and  intermittent.  The  countenance  is  at  once 
pallid  and  cyanosed,  the  skin  bathed  in  perspiration.  The  pulse 
becomes  more  rapid  with  increased  feebleness,  and  at  length  all 
signs  of  it  are  lost,  until  death  supervenes. 

The  treatment  consists  in  the  use  of  the  stomach-jiump.    Emetics 


P  O  1  —  P  o 


279 


.ire  nsinlly  iiinper.Uii-c.  ATtPr  tliis  tlio  patient  must  be  kept  awake 
l.y  walking'  him  aliniit,  applyin;;  colJ  ami  warm  UouclKd  allcriiau-ly 
tu  the  chctit,  bhoiUiii;^'  iiiti)  tlie  l'ui¥,  llii;kiii^'  the  hatuU  auJ  I'cut 
witli  ihiiiip  liAvcls,  ami  the  .npiilicatioii  of  thu  ^Mlvanii;  ciuTcnt. 
Ciiculatioii  slioulj  Ijc  |»iomotuil  l.y  friotinu  of  the  liiiilid  ami  trunk. 
Stinii^  infusion  of  collce,  amuKinia,  and  alrDliolic  stirnuhmts  may 
Iw  frei'ly  ailniiiiistuicil.  As  a  last  rcsoit  \vln-]i  the  lucatliinj;  intci-- 
mits,  ai'tiKci:il  respiration  may  be  pfrfornicd.  Tlio  liypoiU-rmic 
injection  of  full  iloses  of  atropine  has  proveil  of  marked  benefit, — 
ati'o|>ino  and  riior[iliia  being  to  d  ccrtiiin  extent  counter-poisons. 

Opium  ia  a  drug  to  whieli  its  victims  njay  become  lialiitnatcd  by 
tlio  use  of  "jraduiilly  incrcasiiij;  doses  ;  and  tho  practice  of  opium- 
laling,  as  it  is  tcrnied,  is  a  pernicious  one.  An  atrojtliicd  condition 
of  tlie  body  usually  results,  'i'lie  only  remedy  is  abstineucc  from 
tlie  drug. 

3.  islri/elininc  anil  SinjJininc-yicIiliHy  PImits. — Tlie  alkaloids 
stvyrlinine  and  brucinc,  as  well  as  all  the  plants  in  wiiicli  tliey  are 
found,  all  act  in  the  same  manner,  being  highly  poisonous,  and 
causing  death  after  .siiasms  of  .i  severe  character.  Stryelmine  was 
liist  extracted  from  the  seeds  of  Slri/chnos  A'lix-  fomka  in  1819.  by 
Pellelier  and  Caventou.  It  exists  in  larger  quantity  in  other  species 
of  the  pvnua  Stry  /iiins,  and  notably  iu  iSV/'/c/iHus  I'nuUii.  From 
tho  bark  of  Sty^ichnos  KnX'l'uinii'fi^  known  as  fulso  Anqoslui'a 
Irark,  anotber  alkaloid,  hniciiic,  is  also  extracted.  This  bark  was 
at  ono  time  wrongly  Eupposc<l  to  bo  tlie  bark  of  Liucca  anli- 
lijf.iiUi'ica  ;  hence  the  name  l/ntrla  or  brucinc.  Its  etiects  are 
•iimilar  to  tliose  of  strychnine,  but  its  jdiysiological  activity  is  not 
s<i  great.  Many  vcrmin-Uillcrs  contain  strychnine  as  tlieir  active 
ingredient. 

Strycliniufi,  and  all  substances  containing  tliat  alkaloid,  produce 
llieir  effects  within  a  very  few  minutes — usually  witliin  ten  or  fifteen 
minutes.  'I'lic  patient  conipl.Tins  of  stifTuess  about  tlie  neck,  and  his 
aspect  exhibits  terror.  There  is  an  impression  of  imijending  calamity 
or  death.  Very  speedily  tlie  head  is  jerked  back,  the  limbs  ex- 
tended, the  back  arched  (opisthotonos),  so  that  tho  body  may  rest  on 
the  head  and  heels  only.  The  mouth  is  -Iraivii  ;  and  the  condition 
is  one  known  as  tetanus.  In  a  few  moments  these  symptoms  pass 
oir,  and  there  is  complete  relaxation  of  the  spasm.  The  spasmodic, 
condition  speedily  returns,  and  is  brought  about  by  the  slightest 
touch  or  movement  of  tlie  jiatient.  Accessions  and  remissions  of  the 
tetanic  state  ensue  rapidly  till  the  patient  succumbs,  usually  within 
Imlfau  hour  of  the  adminietr.itinn  of  thejioison.  The  best  treatment 
b  to  put,  aud  keep,  the  patient  under  the  influenceof  chloroform 
till  time  is  given  for, the  excretion  of  tho  alkaloid,  having  prc- 
tiously  given  a  f'dl  dose  of  chloral  hydrate. 

4.  /toailc  Pois'jiilii'j. — Tho  ordinary  blue  rocket,  wolfsbane,  or 
•monkshood,  Aco  iHiun,  Xaiitlliis,  and  an  alkaloid  extracted  from  it, 
iiconitine,  are  pi-rhaps  the  most  deadly  of  known  poisons.  Onc- 
nixteenth  of  a  gr.iiw  of  aconitine  has  proved  fatal  to  a  man.  All  tho 
j>rep.irati'>ns  ol  amnite  produce  a  peculiar  burning,  tingling,  and 
iiumhii';.--!  of  tile  jiarts  to  which  they  are  applied.  Wlieu  given  in 
large  doses  rhey  jiroduce  violent  vomiting,  as  a  rule,  more  or  less 
jjaralysis  of  motion  and  sensation,  and  great  depression  of  tho  heart, 
usually  ending  in  death  from  syncope.  InteUigenco  remains 
unaffecled  till  almost  the  last.  The  treatment  consists  in  tho 
liypodermic  injection  of  tincture  of  foxglove  (DUjitalis)  or  its  active 
principle  digitalin,  which  is  a  counter-poison  in  its  action  upon 
the  heart.  The  root  of  aconite  has  been  eaten  in  mistake  for  that 
of  hurseradish. 

5.  Hellndouua. — Tho  belladonna  or  deadly  nighlshade,  Atropa 
liclladniuKi,  contains  an  alk.nloid,  atropine,  which  is  largely  used  by 
oi-ulibts  to  procure  dilatation  of  the  jiupils  of  the  eve.  The  bright 
srarlct  benies  of  the  plant  have  been  eaten  by  c'lildren,  who  are 
attracted  by  tlicir  tempting  appearance.  Helladonna  produces 
Uilalation  of  tho  pupils,  raiiid  pulse,  hot  dry  flushed  skin,  with  an 
".•rujition  not  unlike  that  of  scarlatina,  soreness  of  the  throat,  with 
•ililhcnlty  of  swallowing,  intense  thirst,  aud  gay  mirthful  delirium. 
The  treatment  consists  in  evacuation  of  the  ]>oison  by  means  of  the 
stoniac!i.])Uiop,  and  the  hypodermic  injcclioa  of  inorphia  u  t 
counter-poison. 

4.   Gaseous  Poisons. 
Tho  effects  of  tliese  are  varied, — some  of  them  acting  as 
irritants,  while  others  have  a  specific  effect,  apjiarently  in 
consequence  of  their  forming  chctnical  compounds  with  the. 
red  pigment  of  the  blood,  and  thus  destroying  its  capa-. 
bility  of  acting  as  a  carrier  of  oxygon. 

1.  Chlorine  M\A  ///•omjuc  act  as  powerful  irritants.  They  provoke 
spasm  of  the  glottis  when  inhaled,  and  subseiiuently  inunco  in- 
ilammation  of  the  respiratory  mucous  membrane,  which  may  prove' 
speedily  fatal.  Inhalation  of  diluted  ammonia  vapour  is  the  best 
remedy. 

2.  jfi/diochlorie  or  wurinlk  acid  i/aj  and  hydrojlitorie  or  flum-ie 
ncul  ijds  are  irritating  and  destructive  to  life.  Tho  former  is  more 
<lfstructivo  to  vegetable  life  than  even  chlorine.     They  are  omitted 


iu  many  processe.s  of  manufacture,  and  especially  in  the  maniifac- 
turc  of  rarbunato  of  soda  lioiii  cumuiou  salt  by  Le  Ilia  lie's  pi  ooss, 
iu  the  salt-glazing  of  cartheuware,  and  iu  tliu  nianufacluru  of  arti- 
ticial  manures. 

3.  Hiilphtiroiis  Acid  Gets. — Tlie  gas  given  off  by  burning  sulphur 
is  most  sullbcating  and  irrititing.  Iu  inhalation,  even  in  a  highly 
diluted  state,  may  cause  sj^iedy  deatli  from  spasmodic  closuii;  of  the 
glottis. 

4.  Nitrous  vaiKvrs,  or  gaseous  oxides  of  nitrogen  (except  nitroin 
oxide),  are  given  olV  from  galvanic  batteries  excited  by  nitric  acid  ; 
also  iu  thu  process  of  etching  on  copper.  They  produce,  wlnu 
diluted,  little  immediate  irritation,  but  are  exceedingly  dangerous, 
Setting  np  extensive  and  fatal  innamiiiation  of  the  lungs. 

6.  Aiiiiiiunia  j(«  is  highly  irritant,  but  docs  not  often  prove 
fatal. 

6.  Carbonic  acid  gns  it  heavier  Uian  atmospheric  air,  is  totally, 
inespirable  when  pure,  and  is  fatal  wheu  jiresent  in  large  rpiaiitilies 
in  respired  air.  It  is  given  oil  from  burning  fuel,  aceunmlalcs  in 
pits  and  wells  as  choke-damp,  and  constitutes  tlic  deadly  after- 
damp of  coal-mines.  It  is  also  formed  durinj;  alcoholic  fermen- 
tation, and  hence  accumulates  in  ]iartially  filled  vats  in  which  fer- 
mented Honors  are  stored.  When  it  is  breathed  in  a  concentrated 
state,  dealli  isolmost  instantaneous.  Persons  descending  into  wells 
foul  with  this  gas  sink  down  powerless,  and  are  usually  dead  befiuc 
they  can  be  removed  from  the  vitiated  atmosphere.  In  tlieso  casis 
there  is  true  asphyxia;  but  carbonic  acid  is  also  a  narcotic  gas. 
Persons  exposed  toau  atniosphero  partially  composed  of  this  gas, 
but  not  long  enough  to  produce  fatal  results  are  all'ccted  with  ster- 
torous breathings,  oppression,  flushed  face,  prominent  eyes,  swollen 
tongne,  and  feeble  pulse.  The  ]iroper  treatment  is  removal  from 
the  fonl  atmosphere,  alternate  cold  and  tepid  donclios  1o  the  chest, 
friction  of  tho  limbs  and  trunk,  and  artiticial  respiration.  When 
animation  is  restored  the  patient  should  be  put  to  bed  and  kept 
quiet,  but  should  he  carefully  watched  in  ca'^o  of  relapse. 

7.  Carbonic  oxide  gas  is  given  olf  Jiy  burning  charcoal  and  oilier 
forms  of  fuel,  mixed  with  carbonic  acid.  The  poisonous  ed'ects  of 
charcoal  fumes  are  perhaps  due  rather  to  the  more  poisonous  car- 
bonic oxide  than  to  the  less  poisonous  carbonic  acid.  An  atmo- 
sphere containing  less  than  1  per  cent  of  carbonic  oxide  would 
doubtless  be  fatal  if  breathed  for  many  minutes.  Carbonic  oxide 
forms  with  ha;moglobin,  tho  red  iiignient  of  the  blood,  a  luiglit 
scarlet  compound.  The  compouml  is  very  stable,  and  the  oxide 
cannot  be  disjdaced  by  atmospheric  oxygeu.  Hence  the  blood  after 
death  from  the  inhalation  of  carbonic  oxide  is  of  a  bright  arterial 
hue,' which  it  retains  on  exposure  to  air. 

8.  Coal-ijas  acts  as  an  asphyxiant  and  narcotic.  The  appear- 
ances met  with  after  death — more  especially  the  fluid  slate  of  the 
blood — are  similar  to  those  observed  after  death  fi-om  carbonic  oxido 
gas,  whicli  is  a  constituent  of  coal-gas,  aud  to  which  the  chief 
clfect  of  coal-gas  may  be  due. 

9.  Sulphuretted  Jujdroyen  gas  is  highly  poisonous  by  whatever 
channel  it  gains  access  to  the  body.  In  a  concentrated  form  it 
produces  almost  instant  deatli  from  asphyxia.  Even  iu  a  diluted 
stale  it  produces  colic,  nausea,  vomiting,  and  drowsiness.  Tiiis 
may  pass  into  insensibility  with  lividity  and  feeble  respiration. 
The  skin  is  cold  and  clammy,  or  bathed  in  pers|iiraliou.  The  red 
blood  corpuscles  are  disintegrated.  Tho  treatment  consists  in  re- 
moval from  tho  containinateil  atmosphere,  friction  to  the  surface  of 
the  body,  warmth,  and  the  adniiuistration  of  stimulants.  The  inha- 
lation of  chlorine  gas  has  been  recommended  on  chemical  grounds; 
but  it  must  bo  remembered  that  chlorine  is  icself  i.oisonous. 

10.  Aiitcslhetics. — Nitrous  oxide,  or  laughing  gas,  and  the  gases 
or  vapours  of  other  aniesthetic  substances,  such  as  chloroform,  pro- 
duce death  by  asphyxia,  and  perhaps  otherwise.  Obviously,  os  a 
rule,  medical  assistance  is  at  hand.  The  treatment  consists  ill 
artificial  respiration,  and  tho  use  of  g«"vanic  current. 

11.  Vapours  of  MtjdroearboHS. — The  volatile  vapours  of  the  natural 
hydrocarbons  known  as  benzoline,  jMStrolcuin,  ic,  are  |K>isonou» 
wheu  inhaled  for  leugtheued  periods.  (T.  B.*) 

POISSON,  SiMfoN  Denis  (1781-1840)  a  celebratctl 
French  mathematician,  was  born  at  Pilhiviers  in  tho 
department  of  Loiret,  on  the  21st  Juno  1781.  His  father, 
Simeon  Poisson,  served  as  a  common  soldier  iu  tho 
Hanoverian  wars  ;  but,  disgu.«tcd  by  the  ill  treatment  ho 
received  from  his  patrician  officers,  ho  deserted.  About 
the  time  of  tho  birth  of  his  .son  Simbon  Denis  he  occupied 
a  small  administrative  post  at  Pithiviers,  and  seems  to 
have  been  at  tho  head  of  the  local  government  of  the  plnro 
during  tho  revolutionary  ]>oriod.  The  infant  Pois.'ion  was 
put  out  to  nurse,  and  concerning  his  nursing  Arago  reiotcs 
the  following  story,  which  he  had  from  its  hero  himself. 
Ono  day  the  anxious  father. went  to  visit  his  son,  bat 
found  that  tho  nurse  had  gone  to  the  fields.     Impatient.^ 


280 


P  0  I  S  S  O  N 


he  broke  into  the  cottage,  and  there  saw,  with  painful 
astonishment,  the  object  of  all  his  hopes  suspended  by-  a 
small  cord  to  a  nail  fixed  in  the  wall.  This  was  a  precau- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  peasant  nurse  to  prevent  her  charge 
from  perishing  under  the  teeth  of  the  carnivorous  and 
unclean  animals  that  circulated  in  the  house.  Poisson,  in 
telling  the  story,  added — "  A  gymnastic  effort  carried  me 
incessantly  from  one  side  of  the  vertical  to  the  other ;  and 
it  was  thus,  in  my  tenderest  infancy,  that  I  made  my  pre- 
lude io  those  studies  on  the  pendulum  that  were  to  occupy 
80  much  cf  my  maturer  age." 

Having  survived  the  perils  of  infancy,  and  received  the 
elements  of  his  education  (reading  and  writing)  from  his 
father,  the  question  arose  what  calling  he  waJ  to  follow. 
It  was  at  first  suggested  that  he  should  be  made  a  notary ; 
but  the  family  council,  with  amusing  irony,  decided  that 
this  profession  made  too  great  demands  upon  the  intellect, 
and  surgery  was  preferred.  He  was  sent  to  an  uncle  who 
exercised  this  art  at  Fontainebleau,  and  forthwith  began 
to  take  lessons  in  bleeding  and  blistering,  then  the  leading 
branches  of  a  surgeon's  practice.  To  train  him  in  the 
former,  he  was  set  to  prick  the  veins  of  cabbage  leaves 
with  a  lancet,  but  made  little  progress ;  how  he  sped  in 
the  latter  he  himself  relates  as  follows : — "  Once  my  uncle 
sent  me,  with  one  of  my  comrades,  !M.  Vanneau,  now 
established  in  the  colonies,  to  put  a  blister  on  the  arm  of 
a  child ;  the  next  day,  when  I  presented  myself  to  remove 
the  apparatus,  I  found  the  child  dead ;  this  event,  very 
common  they  say,  made  the  most  profound  impression 
upon  me ;  and  I  declared  at  once  that  I  would  never  be 
either  physician  or  surgeon.  Nothing  could  shake  my  reso- 
lution, and  they  sent  me  back  to  Pithiviers. "  Here  accident 
and  the  bent  of  nature  solved  the  problem  that  had  passed 
the  wisdom  of  the  family  council.  The  elder  Poisson, 
being  a  Government  official,  received  a  copy  of  the  Journal 
de  I'Ecole  Polytechniqiie  ;  the  son  read  it,  and  soon  began 
unaided  to  solve  the  problems  propounded  there  from  time 
to  time ;  and  thus  his  mathematical  talent  was  discovered. 
He  was  sent  to  the  ficole  Centrale  of  Fontainebleau,  and 
was  fortunate  in  having  a  kind  and  sympathetic  teacher, 
M.  Billy,  who,  when  he  speedily  found  that  his  pupil  was 
becoming  his  master,  devoted  himself  to  the  study  of 
higher  mathematics  in  order  to  follow  and  appreciate  him, 
and  predicted  his  future  fame  by  the  punning  quotation 
from  Lafontaine  ^ — 

"Petit  Poisson  deviendra  grand 
Pourva  que  Dieu  lui  prete  vie." 

At  the  age  of  seventeen  the  young  provincial,  less 
lemarkabfe  for  the  elegance  of  his  attire  than- for  the  pro- 
fundity of  his  scientific  knowledge,  came  up  to  Paris  to 
undergo  the  entrance  examination  for  the  Polytechnic 
SchooL  He  passed  first  in  his  year,  and  immediately 
began  to  attract  the  notice  of  the  professors  of  the  school, 
who,  seeing  his  obvious  genius,  excused  him  from  the 
ordinary  drudgery  of  the  curriculum,  and  left  him  free 
to  follow  the  studies  of  his  predilection.  The  wisdom 
pf  this  course  was  soon  proved ;  for,  in  1 SOO,  less  than 
two  years  after  his  entry,  he  published  two  memoirs,  one 
pn  Bezout's  method  of  elimination,  the  other  on  the 
number  of  integrals  of  an  equation  of  finite  differences. 
The  latter  of  these  memoirs  was  examined  by  Lacroi:?  and 
Jjegendre,  who  recommended  that  it  should  be  published 
in  the  Recueil  des  Savants  Strangers,  an  unparalleled 
honour  for  a  youth  of  eighteen.  This  success  at  once  pro- 
cured for  Poisson  an  entry  into  the  Parisian  scientific 
society  of  the  day,  the  like  of  which  for  brilliancy  has 
(lever  elsewhere  been  seen.  Its  two  kings  both  patronized 
bim.     Lagrange,  whose  lectures  on  the  theory  of  functions 

J  This  j)rediction  is  sometimes  attributed  to  Laplace, 


he  attended  at  the  Polytechnic  School,  early  recognized  his 
talent,  and  became  his  friend ;  while  Laplace,  in  whose 
footsteps  Poisson  followed,  regaixled  him  almost  as  his  son. 
The  rest  of  his  career,  till  his  death  on  the  25th  of  April 
1840,  was  almost  entirely  occupied  in  the  composition  and 
publication  of  his  many  works,  and  in  discharging  the 
duties  of  the  numerous  educational  offices  to  which  he  was 
successively  appointed.  Immediately  after  finishing  his 
course  at  the  Polytechnic  School  he  was  appointed 
repetiteur  there,  an  office  which  he  had  discharged  as  an 
amateur  while  still  a  pupil  in  the  school ;  for  it  had  been 
the  custom  of  his  comrades  often  to  resort  to  his  room 
after  an  unusually  difficult  lecture  to  hear  him  repeat  and 
explain  it.  He  was  made  professeur  suppleant  in  1802,  and 
full  professor  in  succession  to  Fourier  in  1806.  In  1808 
he  became  astronomer  to  the  Bureau  des  Longitudes  ;  and, 
when  the  Faculte  des  Sciences  was  instituted  in  1809,  he 
was  appointed  Professeur  de  la  Mteanique  Rationelle.  He 
further  became  member  of  the  Institute  in  1812,  exa- 
miner at  the  military  school  at  St  Cyr  in  1815,  leaving 
examiner  at  the  Polytechnic  in  1816,  councillor  of  the 
university  in  1820,  and  geometer  to  the  Board  of  Longitude 
in  succession  to  Laplace  in  1827. 

In  1817  he  married  Mademoiselle  Nancy  de  Barrli, 
daughter  of  a  French  family  which  had  emigrated  to  Eng- 
land, and  by  her  he  had  two  sons  and  two  daugnters. 

Poisson  was  a  simple-minded  affectionate  man.  This 
is  seen  in  the  close  relations  which  he  kept  up  with  his  old 
teacher  M.  Billy,  who  ardently  loved  and  admired  his 
former  pupil,  and  whose  presence  at  the  Institute  was  a 
well-known  sign  that  Poisson  was  to  read  a  paper  there. 
Although  he  never  returned  to  Pithiviers  after  his  entry 
into  the  Polytechnic  School,  he  corresponded  constantly 
with  his  parents,  more  especially  with  his  mother ;  and  he 
regularly  sent  copies  of  his  memoirs  to  his  father,  who  read 
and  re-read  with  unwearied  patience  the  parts  of  them 
within  his  comprehension.  His  tastes  seem  to  have  beea 
of  the  simplest  description ;  he  took  little  exercise,  and  he 
had  more  than  a  Frenchman's  horror  of  travelling.  Arago 
says  that  he  only  travelled  once,  and  that  by  medical 
prescription,  disguised  under  the  form  of  some  tnissioii 
connected  with  the  Polytechnic  School,  and  that,  after 
devoting  his  savings  to  the  purchase  of  a  beautiful  farm  in 
the  department  of  Seine-et-Marne.  he  never  so  much  as 
visited  it. 

It  is  probable  that  his  simplicity  of  character  had  much 
to  do  with  his  passing  apparently  quite  undisturbed 
through  the  stormy  time  in  which  he  lived,  a  period  in 
which  many  men  of  mark  lost  their  heads,  and  few  such 
escaped  without  loss  of  office  and  fortune.  His  father, 
whose  early  experiences  led  him  to  bate  aristocrats,  bred 
him  in  the  stern  creed  of  the  first  republic.  Throughout 
the  empire  Poisson  faithfully  adhered  to  the  family  prin- 
ciples, and  refused  to  worship  Napoleon.  Napoleon,  how- 
ever, never  interfered  with  Poisson's  promotion.  He  said 
once  himself  that  he  never  did  anything  uselessly,  cer- 
tainly never  committed  a  useless  crime  ;  and  he  was  wise 
enough  to  see  that  nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  persecut- 
ing the  harmless  academician,  whose  fame  he  doubtless 
regarded  like  that  of  the  other  savants  of  France  as  an 
apanage  of  his  own  glory.  When  the  Bourbons  were 
restored,  his  hatred  against  Napoleon  led  him  to  become  a. 
Legitimist — a  conclusion  which  says  more  for  the  simplicity 
of  his  characte"-  than  for  the  strength  or  logic  of  his 
political  creed. 

He  was  faithful  to  the  Bourbons  during  the  Hundred 
Days,  in  fact  was  with  difficulty  dissuaded  from  volunteer- 
ing to  fight  in  their  cause.  After  the  second  restoratioR 
his  fidelity  was  recognized  by  his  elevation  to  the  dignity 
of  baron   in   1825;  but  he  never,  either  .took_QUt_ his 


ll 


P  0  I  — P  0  I 


281 


diploma  or  used  the  title.  The  revolution  of  July  1830 
threatened  him  with  the  loss  of  all  his  honours ;  but  this 
disgrace  to  the  Government  of  Louis  Philippe  was  adroitly 
averted  by  Arago,  who,  while  his  "  revocation  "  was  being 
plotted  by  the  council  of  ministers,  procured  him  an  invita- 
tion to  dine  at  the  Palais  Koyale,  where  he  was  openly  and 
effusively  received  by  the  citizen  king,  who  "  remembered  " 
him.  After  this,  of  course,  his  degradation  was  impossible; 
he  was  left  in  undisturbed  possession  of  all  his  well-earned 
appoiutraents ;  and  seven  years  later  he  was  made  a  peer 
of  France,  not  for  political  reasons,  but  as  a  representative 
«f  French  science. 

As  a  teacher  of  mathematics  Poisson  is  said  to  have 
been  more  than  ordinarily  successful,  as  might  have  been 
expected  from  his  early  promise  as  a  repetiteur  at  the 
Polytechnic  School.  As  a  scientific  worker  his  activity 
has  rarely  if  ever  been  equalled.  Notwithstanding  his 
many  official  duties,  he  found  time  to  publish  more  than 
Ihree  hundred  works,  several  of  them  extensive  treatises, 
and  many  of  them  memoirs  dealing  with  the  most  abstruse 
branches  of  pure  and  applied  mathematics.  There  are  two 
remarks  of  his,  or  perhaps  two  versions  of  the  same  remark, 
that  explain  how  he  accomplished  so  much  :  one,  "  La  vie 
o'est  bonne  qu'  i  deux  choses — k  faire  des  matht-matiques 
^t  4  les  professer;"  the  other,  "  La  vie  c'est  le  travail." 

A  list  of  Poisson's  works,  drawn  up  by  himself,  is  giveu  at  the 
»nd  of  Arago's  biography.  A  lengthened  analysis  of  them  would 
Ik!  out  of  place  hero,  and  all  that  is  possible  is  a  brief  mention  of 
the  more  important.  There  are  few  branches  of  mathematics  to 
which  he  did  not  contribute  something,  but  it  was  in  the  applica- 
tion of  matheqi.Uics  to  physical  subjects  that  his  greatest  services 
to  science  were  performed.  Perhaps  the  most  original,  and 
certainly  the  most  permanent  in  their  iulluence,  were  his  memoirs 
on  the  theory  of  electricity  and  magnetism,  which  virtually  created 
a  new  branch  of  mathematical  physics.  They  have  been  already 
repeatedly  referred  to  in  the  articles  Electeicitv  and  Magnetism 
{q.v.).  Next  (perhaps  in  the  opinion  of  some  first)  in  importance 
«tand  the  memoirs  on  celestial  mechanics,  in  which  he  proved  him- 
self a  worthy  successor  to  Laplace.  The  most  important  of  these 
are  his  memoirs  "  Sur  les  inegalites  sc'culaires  des  moyens  mouve- 
ments  des  planetes,'' "Sur  la  variation  des  constantes  arbitraires 
dans  les  questions  de  mdcanique,"  both  published  in  the  Journal  ot 
the  Polytechnic  School,  1809;  "  Sur  la  libration  de  la  luiie,"  in 
Connaiss.  d.  Temps,  1821,  &c.;  and  "Sur  la  mouvement  de  la  terro 
autour  do  son  centre  da  gravite,"  in  Mim.  d.  I'Acad.,  1827,  &c. 
In  the  first  of  these  memoirs  Poisson  discusses  the  famous  question 
cf  the  stability  of  the  planetary  orbits,  which  had  already  been 
settled  by  Lagrange  to  the  first  degree  of  approximation  for  the 
disturbing  forces.  Poisson  showed  that  the  result  could  bo  extended 
to  a  second  approximation,  and  thus  msde  an  important  advance  in 
the  planetary  theory.  The  memoir  is  i-cmarkable  inasmuch  as  it 
roused  Lagrang,?,  after  an  interval  of  im  ctivity,  to  compose  in  his 
old  age  one  of  the  greatest  of  his  mcMoirs,  viz.,  that  "Sur  la 
theorio  des  vari.\  ions  des  Elements  des  planitcs,  et  en  particulicr 
<lo3  variations  des  grands  axes  de  leurs  orbitcs."  So  highly  did 
lie  think  of  Poisson  3  memoir  that  he  made  a  copy  of  it  with  his 
own  hand,  which  was  found  among  his  papers  after  his  death. 
Poisson  made  important  contributions  to  the  theory  of  attraction. 
His  well-known  correction  of  Laplace's  partial  dilferential  equation 
for  the  potential  was  first  published  in  the  Bulletin  de  la  Sociiti 
Philomalique,  1813.  His  two  most  important  memoirs  on  the 
.subject  are  "  Sur  I'attraction  des  Epheroide3"(C'ortnai»j.  d.  Temps, 
1^'29),  and  "Sur  I'attraction  d'un  cUipsbido  homogeno  {Mim.  d. 
I' Acad.,  1835).  In  concluding  our  selection  from  liis  physical 
incmoirs  wo  may  mention  his  memoir  on  the  theory  of  waves 
{iUm.  d.  VJcad.,  1825). 

Tn  pure  mathematics,  his  most  important  works'  wore  his  series 
of  memoirs  on  definite  integrals,  and  his  discussion  of  Fourier's 
sciies,  which  paved  the  way  for  the  classical  researches  of  Dirichlct 
ani  Riomnnn  on  the  same  subject;  these  arc  to  bo  found  in  tho 
Journal  of  the  Polytechnic  School  from  1813  to  1823,  and  in  the 
Mcnwirs  of  the  Academy  for  1823.  In  addition  wo  may  also 
mention  his  cpay  on  the  calculus  of  variations  (j1/c)?i.  d.  I  Acad., 
1833),  and  his  memoirs  on  the  probability  of  tho  mean  results  of 
observations  (Con )!««•».  d.  Temps,  1827,  &c.). 

Besides  his  many  memoirs  Poisson  published  a  number  of 
treatises,  most  of  which  were  intended  to  form  part  of  a  groat  work 
o«  mathematical  physics,  which  he  did  not  live  to  complete. 
Among  these  mav  be  mentioned  his  Traiti  de  MecaniqtLC,  2  vols, 
avo,  1811  and  1833,  which  was  long  a  standard  work;  Thloric 
Jfoiivclle  de  I' Action  Capillaire,  4to,  1831 ;  Thiorie  Mathematijue  de 

1  n— 1  •_>* 


la  Clialcur,  4to,  1835;  SuppUtMntU>  t\ifi  same,  4to,  1837;  lUdicrclitt 
sur  la  probahiliti  da  jugements  tn  matUres  criminclles.  kc  4to, 
1837,  all  published  at  Paris. 

Enough  has  been  said  to  establish  Poisson's  fertility  as 
a  writer  on  mathematical  subjects,  and  the  question 
naturally  suggests  itself,  What  is  his  rank  among  the 
mathematicians  of  all  ages'?  Since  his  own  age  was  more 
productive  of  great  mathematicians  than  any  other  the 
world  has  yet  seen,  it  is  natural  to  compare  him  with  his 
contemporaries,  chief  among  whom  were  Lagrange  and 
Laplace.  In  so  doing  we  see  at  once  that,  although  we 
cannot  seat  him  alongside  of  these  mighty  sovereigns,  yet 
it  is  impossible  to  deny  him  the  nearest  rank  to  them  in 
the  temple  of  mathematical  fame.  In  confirmation  of 
this  judgment,  we  cannot  do  better  than  quote  one  of 
them — "I  am  old,"  said  Lagrange  to  Poisson  one  day; 
"during  my  long  intervals  of  sleeplessness  I  divert  myself 
by  making  numerical  approximations.  Keep  this  one  ;  it 
may  interest  you.  Huygens  was  thirteen  years  older 
than  Newton,  I  am  thirteen  years  older  than  Laplace ; 
D'Alembert  was  thirty-two  years  older  than  Laplace, 
Laplace  is  thirty-two  years  older  than  you."  Arago,  who 
gives  this  story,  justly  remarks  that  no  more  delicate  way 
could  be  conceived  of  intimating  to  Poisson  his  admission 
into  the  inner  circle  of  the  fraternity  of  mathematical 
genius.  (g-  ch.) 

POITIERS,  a  town  of  France,  formerly  the  capital  of 
Poitou,  and  now  the  chief  town  of  the  department  of 
Vienne,  lies  206  miltss  south-west  of  Paris  on  the  railway 
to  Bordeaux,  at  the  junction  of  the  Boivre  with  the  Clain 
(a  tributary  of  the  Loire  by  the  Vienne),  and  occupies 
the  slopes  and  stinimit  of  a  plateau  which  rises  1 30  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  streams  by  which  it  is  surrounded 
on  three  sides.  The  town  is  picturesque  ;  and  its  narrow, 
ill-paved,  irregular,  and  deserted  streets  with  their  ill- 
built  houses  are  interesting  for  certain  remains  of  ancient 
architecture  and  the  memories  of  great  historical  events. 
Blossac  park,  named  after  the  intendant  of  the  "gene- 
rality" of  Poitiers  (1751-1786),  and  situated  on  the 
south  side  of  the  town,  and  the  botanic  garden  on  the 
north-east,  are  the  two  principal  promenades.  Besides 
being  the  see  of  a  bishopric,  which  comprises  the  depart- 
ments of  Vienne  and  Deux-Sivres,  Poitiers  possesses  a 
court  of  appeal,  national  faculties  of  law,  literature,  and 
science,  a  free  faculty  of  Catholic  theology,  a  school  of 
artillery,  and  numerous  learned  societies,  of  which  the 
most  celebrated  is  that  of  tho  "Antiquaires  de  I'Ouest" 
dating  from  1831.  though  not  strictly  a  commercial 
or  industrial  town,  it  is  the  centre  from  which  railways 
branch  out  to  Tours,  Angers,  Niort,  Angoulfimo,  Limoges, 
and  prospectively  to  Chateauroux  and  Nantes.  Up  till 
1857  it  contained  the  ruins  of  a  Roman  amphitheatre  more 
extensi%'o  than  that  of  Nimes ;  remains  of  Roman  baths, 
constructed  in  the  1st  and  demolished  in  tho  3d  century, 
were  laid  bare  in  1877  ;  and  in  1879  a  pagan  burial  place 
and  tho  tombs  of  a  number  of  Christian  martyrs  were 
discovered  on  tho  heights  to  tho  south-cast — tho  names  of 
some  of  tho  Christians  being  preser\'ed  in  paintings  and 
inscriptions.  Not  far  from  these  tombs  is  a  huge  dolmen 
(tho  "Pierro  Levdo"),  22  feet  long,  16  feet  broad,  and  G  or 
7  feet  high,  around  which  used  to  bo  held  tho  great  fair 
of  St  Luke. 

Tho  cathedral  of  St  Peter,' begun  in  1162  by  Eleanor 
of  Quicnno  on  tho  ruins  of  a  Roman  basilica,  and  well 
advanced  at  tho  time  of  her  death  in  1204,  is  a  building 
after  tho  Plantagenet  or  Angevin  style.  Its  length  is 
308  feet,  its  width  128,  and  the  keystone  of  tho  central 
vaulted  roof  is  89  feet  above  tho  pavement.  There  is  no 
apse,  and  the  exterior  generally  baa  a  hca^^  appearance.' 
Xho  principal  front  Las  unilnished  sidc-towcrs  105  and  110 


282 


P  O  I  — P  O  K 


feet  in  height,  begun  in  the  1 3th  century.  Most  of  the 
windows  of  the  choir  and  the  transepts  preserve  their 
stained  glass  of  the  12th  and  13th  centuries;  the  end 
window,  which  is  certainly  the  first  in  the  order  of  time, 
contains  the  figures  of  Henry  II.  of  England  and  Eleanor. 
The  choir  stalls,  carved  between  1235  and  1257,  are  the 
oldest  in  France.  The  church  of  St  Jean  (originally  a 
baptistery)  near  the  cathedral  is  the  most  ancient  Christian 
monument  in  the  country.  The  church  of  St  Hilaire  was 
erected  at  the  close  qf  the  4th  century  over  the  tomb  of 
the  celebrated  bishop.  At  first  an  unpretending  oratory, 
it  was  rebuilt  on  a  larger  scale  by  Clovis,  and  afterwards 
became,  in  the  10th,  11th,  and  12th  centuries,  a  sumptuous 
collegiate  church,  of  which  the  nave  was  flanked  by  triple 
aisles  and  surmounted  by  six  cupolas.  Great  damage  was 
done  to  it  in  the  wars  of  religion  and  the  French  Revolu- 
tion. ■  The  confessional  or  oratory  under  the  choir  contains 
the  relics  of  St  Hilary  and  a  Christian  sarcophagus  of  the 
4th  century.  The  church  of  St  RadegOnde,  a  great  resort 
of  pilgrims,  commemorates  the  consort  of  Hlothar  I.  (c. 
560),  and  preserves  in  its  crypt,  not  only  the  tomb  of 
Radegonde,  who  founded  at  Poitiers  the  abbey  of  the  Holy 
Cross,  but  those  of  St  Agnes  and  St  Disciola.  The  church 
is  in  the  Angevin  style;  the  choir  is  of  the  11th,  and 
the  nave  of  the  13  th  century.  Notre  Dame  la  Grande, 
which  dates  from  the  close  of  the  11th  century,  and  re- 
presents a  collegiate  church'  one  or  two  hundred  years 
older,  has  a  richly  sculptured  Romanesque  facade.  The 
first  stone  of  the  church  of  Moutierneuf  (Monasterivm 
Novum)  was  laid  in  1077  by  William,  duke  of  Aquitaine 
and  count  of  Poitiers,  who  is  buried  within  its  walls ;  and 
the  choir  (afterwards  in  the  13th  century  modified  by  the 
erection  of  a  "  lantern ")  was  solemnly  consecrated  by 
Urban  II.  in  1096.  Mutilated  about  1640  and  during 
the  Revolution,  the  building  was  partly  restored  between 
1850  and  1860.  The  tower  of  St  Porchaire,  a  precious 
remnant  of  11th-century  arcTiitecture,  has  been  restored 
in  the  present  generation  under  the  auspices  of  the  Anti- 
quaires  de  I'Ouest  attd  the  French  archsological  society. 
Other  churches  of  interest  are  the  Chapel  of  the  Lyc6e, 
that  of  the  Sisters  of  the  St  Croix,  and  the  old  church  of 
the  Jesuits. 

Among  the  secular  buUdings  the  first  place  belongs 
to  the  law  courts,  formerly  the  palace  of  the  dukes  of 
Aquitaine  and  counts  of  Poitiers,  and  rebuilt  between 
the  12th  and  the  15th  century.  The  Salle  des  Pas  Perdus 
forms  a  fine  nave  160  feet  long  by  56  feet  wide,  with  a 
vaulted  wooden  roof.  The  southern  wall  is  the  work  of 
Duke  Jean  de  Berri,  brother  of  Charles  V. ;  above  its  three 
vast  fireplaces  are  muUioned  windows  filled  with  stained 
glass.  The  Maubergeon  tower  attached  to  the  palace 
represented  the  feudal  centre  of  all  the  lordships  of  the 
coimtship  of  Poitiers.  The  pr6v6t^  or  provost's  mansion, 
now  occupied  by  a  communal  school,  has  a  fine  fagade  of 
the  15th  century.  In  the  new  hotel  de  ville,  erected 
between  1869  and  1876,  are  museums  of  archccology, 
natural  history,  and  painting.  The  museum  of  the  Anti- 
quaires  de  I'Ouest  occupies  the  chapel  and  the  great  hall 
of  the  old  university,  now  located  in  the  old  hotel  de  ville; 
it  is  a  valuable  collection  comprising  Roman  antiquities, 
ilerovingian  sculptures,  medals,  a  fine  Renaissance  fire- 
place, &c  The  building  devoted  to  the  faculties  of  law, 
science,  and  literature  (of  which  the  first  dates  from  1431) 
also  contains  the  library  (35,000  printed  volumes  and  300 
MSS.).  The  municipal  records  are  very  rich  in  charters 
of  Eleanor  of  Aquitaine,  Philip  Augustus,  Alphonse  of 
Poitiers,  &c.  Convents  and  religious  educational  estab- 
lishments are  numerous  in  the  town.  The  population  of 
Poitiers  in  1881  was  34,355. 

Poitiers,  called  Limonnm  at  the  time  of  the  Roman  conquest, 


then  took  the  name  of  its  Gallic  founders  the  Pictones  or  Pictavi. 
Christianity  was  introduced  in  the  3d  century,  and  the  first 
bishop  of  l-'oitiers,  from  350  to  367,  was  Still  la  r.i  us  (q.v).  i'ifty 
years  later  the  city  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Arian  Visigoths, 
and  become  one  of  the  pvim-ipal  residences  of  tlieir  kings.  Alaric, 
one  of  their  number,  was  defeated  by  Clovis  at  Vouille  not  far  from 
Poitiers  in  507.  This  was  the  first  orffcasion  on  which  the  peoples 
of  northern  and  southern  Gaul  met  in  conflict  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  town  which  was  destined  to  see  them  so  frequently 
join  battle.  By  his  victory  in  732  over  the  Jlohanimedans  at 
Moussais-la-Bataille  in  this  region,  Cliarles  Martel  proved  the 
saviour  of  Christendom.  Under  the  Carlovinginns,  Poitiers  was 
dependent  on  the  crown  and  afterwards  on  the  duchy  of  Aquitaine. 
Eleanor  of  Guienne,  after  her  divorce  from  Louis  VII.,  carried 
it  to  her  new  husband  Henry  Plantagenet.  She  frequently  re- 
sided in  the  city,  which  she  embellished  and  fortified,  and  in  1199 
entrusted  with  communal  rights.  Philip  Augustus,  having  confis- 
cated the  Continental  territories  of  John  of  England,  united  Poitoii 
to  the  French  crown  ;  Louis  VIIL  made  it  an  apanoge  for  his  son 
Alphonse  of  Poitici-s,  who  aftei-wards  became  count  of  Toulouse.  At 
a  plenary  court  held  in  1241  in  the  great  hall  of  the  palais  de 
justice,  Alphonse  received  the  homage  of  his  numerous  vassals. 
After  his  death  in  1271  Poitou  reverted  to  tlie  crown.  But,  King 
John  having  been  defeated  and  made  prisoner  iji  the  disastrous 
battle  of  Poitiers  (fought  4  miles  E.  of  the  town  on  the  hillside  of 
Nouaille,19th  September  1356),  Poitou  was  recognized  as  an  English 
possession  by  the  treaty  of  Bretigny  (1360).  Nine  years  later  it  was 
recovered  by  Duguesclin  ;  and  it  became  in  succession  the  apanage 
of  Jean  de  Berri,  brother  of  king  Charles  VL,  and  of  the  dauphin, 
afterwards  Charles  VIL  It  was  at  Poitiers  that  the  latter  was 
proclaimed  king  (1423);  and  he  removed  thither  the  parlement  ami 
university  of  Paris,  which  remained  in  exile  till  the  English  with 
drew  from  the  capital  in  1436.  During  this  interval  (1429)  Joan 
of  Arc  was  subjected  to  a  formal  inquest  by  the  doctors  of  the  uni- 
versity. Calvin  had  numerous  converts  at  Poitiers.  Of  the  violent 
proceedings  which  attended  the  wars  of  religion  the  city  had  its 
share.  In  1569  it  was  defended  by  Count  du  Lude  against  Coligny, 
who  after  an  unsuccessful  bombardment  retired  from  t^e  siege  aj 
the  end  of  seven  weeks. 

POITOU,  one  of  the  old  pro\'inces  of  France,  which 
also  formed  one  of  the  great  military  governments  of 
the  kingdom,  was  bounded  N.  by  Brittany,  Anjou,  and 
Touraine ;  S.  by  Angoumois  and  Aunis ;  E.  by  Touraine, 
Berri,  and  Marche ;  and  W.  by  the  ocean.  It  was  divided 
into  Lower  Poitou,  which  corresponded  to  the  modem 
department  of  La  Vendde,  and  Upper  Poitou,  now  split 
into  the  departments  of  Deux-Sevres  and  Vienne.  The 
principal  towns  in  Upper  Poitou  were  Poitiers  the  capital, 
Mirebeau,  Chfttellerault,  Richelieu,  Loudun,  Thouars, 
Mauldon,  Parthenay,  Niort,  &c. ;  and  in  Lower  Poitoii 
Fontenai-le-Corat6,  Maillezais,  Luijon,  and  Roche-sur-Yon. 
lie  d'Yeu  or  lle-Dieu  and  Noirmoutier  belonged  to  the 
province.  Ecclesiastically  Poitou  was  distributed  among 
the  dioceses  of  Poitiers,  Lu^on,  and  La  Rochelle ;  for  the 
administration  of  justice,  it  was  attached  to  the  parlement 
of  Paris. 

Poitou  (Poicton,  Pictavia)  takes  its  name  from  the  Pictones  or 
Pictavi,  a  Gallic  nation  mentioned  by  Caesar,  Strabo,  and  Ptolemy, 
and  described  by  Strabo  as  separated  from  the  Namnetes  on  the 
north  by  the  Loire.  It  formed  part  of  the  territory  known  as 
Aqtjitania  {q.v. ).     For  the  history  see  Poitieks. 

POKER,  a  game  at  cards, — probably  a  development  of 
ilfrusso  (played  in  Italy  in  the  15th  century)  A  similar 
but  less  simple  game,  called  primiera,  was  also  played  in 
Italy  in  the  16th  century,  whence  under  the  name  of 
primero  it  travelled  to  Spain.  La  prime  is  mentioned 
by  Rabelais  (16th  century) ;  and  later  the  game  of  prime 
elaborated  was  played  in  France  under  the  name  of 
Vambigu  or  le  meale.  Prime  was  also  played  in  Eng- 
land in  the  16th  century;  and  later  a  bastard  kind  of 
prime,  called  post  and  pair,  was  much  played  in  the  west 
of  England.  Gleek  had  some  points  of  resemblance  to 
these  games.  The  more  modern  game  of  brag  is  only 
post  and  •  pair  with  variations.  Poker  (originally  played 
in  America)  may  be  described  as  developed  brag,  though 
in  some  respects  it  "  throws  back  "  to  the  parent  game* 
post  and  pair,  I'ambigu,  and  primero. 


POKER 


283 


Any  ndinber  of  persons  may  play.  If  a  pack  of  fifty-two 
cards  is  played  with,  from  five  to  seveu  players  makes  the 
best  game.  Sometimes  an  ecart^  pack  of  thirty-two  cards 
is  used,  when  three  or  four  makes  the  best  game.  There 
are  numerous  varieties  of  poker.  Draw  poker,  with  fifty- 
two  cards,  is  the  most  common. 

The  dealer  being  determined  (see  Laws),  he  puts  up 
a  sum,  previously  agreed  on  (called  the  ante),  gene- 
rally one  chip  or  counter,  and  deals  five  cards  to  each 
[rfayer.  Then  each  in  rotation  from  the  dealer's  left  looks 
at  his  cards,  and  either  throws  up  his  hand  (called  going 
riiU  of  tke  game),  when  he  stakes  nothing,  or  chips,  i.e., 
puts  up  twice  the  amount  of  the  ante  (say  two  counters). 
T)ie  dealer  finally  looks  at  his  hand  and  either  goes  out  of 
ths  game  or  viakes  good  his  ante  by  putting  up  another 
counter. 

The  dealer  then  asks  those  in  rotation  who  have  chipped 
wiether  they  W\\\  fill  their  hands  {i.e.,  whether  they  will 
exchange  any  cards  for  an  equivalent  number  from  the  top 
of  the  pack)  or  play  the  hand  dealt. 

When  the  hands  are  filled,  the  players  to  the  left  of  the 
dealer  have  the  say  in  rotation.  Each  player  Bays  whether 
ho  will  {\-)  go  out  of  the  game  (forfeiting  what  he  has 
already  staked) ;  or  (2)  raise,  i.e.,  put  up  a  sum  in 
atldition  to  that  already  staked.  Ao  soon  as  any  one 
raises,  the  next  in  rotation  to  say  must  either  (1)  go  out 
of  the  gatne ;  or  (2)  see  the  raise,  i.e.,  put  up  an  equal 
amount ;  or  (3)  go  letter,  i.e.,  increase  the  raise.  This 
continues  round  and  round,  each  succeeding  player  being 
obliged  either  to  see  the  stake  made  by  the  previous  one, 
or  to  go  better,  or  go  out  of  the  game. 

Eventually  the  raising  comes  to  an  end,  because 
either  every  player  but  one  goes  out  of  the  game  (when 
all  the  stakes  are  taken  by  the  player  who  remains  in, 
without  showing  his  cards),  or  the  players  left  in  all  see 
the  last  raise,  no  one  going  better.  When  all  the  stakes 
are  thus  equal,  it  becomes  a  call.  The  last  to  stake,  who 
makes  his  raise  equal  to  that  of  each  of  the  others,  sees 
them,  i.e.,  the  player  to  his  left  has  to  show  his  hand,  or 
rather  such  part  of  it  as  he  claims  to  compete  with.  The 
next  to  the  left,  then  similarly  shows  his  hand,  if  it  can 
beat  the  one  first  shown  ;  if  not,  he  throws  up  ;  and  so  on 
all  round  ;  the  holder  of  the  best  hand  takes  the  pool,  and 
the  next  dealer  deals. 

Hands  thrown  up,  either  on  a  refusal  to  chip  to  fill,  or 
on  being  beaten,  and  cards  discarded  when  filling,  are 
placed  face  down  in  the  middle  of  the  table,  and  no  one  is 
allowed  to  look  at  them. 

It  is  usual  to  limit  the  raise  to  prevent  very  high  chip- 
ping. The  modern  usage  is  to  play  table  stakes ;  i.e.,  each 
player  puts  up  such  an  amount  as  he  plesises  at  the  com- 
mencement of  each  deal,  and  he  cannot  be  raised  more 
than  ho  has  on  the  table  ;  but  he  has  the  option  of  making 
good  from  his  pocket  a  previous  raise  which  exceeds  his 
table  stake. 

Value  of  the  Hands. — 1.  A  straight  flush  (sequence  of 
five  cards  of  the  same  suit).  2.  Fours  (four  card.s  of  the 
same  rank,  with  one  other  card).  3.  A  full  (three  cards 
of  the  same  rank,  with  a  pair).  4.  A  flush  (five  cards  of 
ths  .same  suit,  not  in  sequence).  5.  A  straight  (sequence 
of  five  cards,  not  all  of  the  same  suit).  6.  Triplets  (three 
cards  of  the  same  rank,  with  two  other  cards  not  a  pair). 
7.  Two  pairs  (with  one  other  card  not  of  the  same  rank 
with  either  pair).  8.  One  pair  (with  three  other  cards  of 
(different  ranks).     9.  Highest  card. 

An  ace  may  either  begin  or  end  a  straight,  e.g.,  ace, 
king,  quoen,  knave,  ten ;  or,  five,  four,  three,  two,  aco. 
By  agreement  an  ace  may  be  made  not  to  rank  in  se- 
quence with  the  two.  In  no  case  can  ace  occupy  an  inter- 
tnediate  position  in  a  straight,  and  when  an  ^cart6  pack  ia 


used,  ace  is  not  in  a  straight  with  the  seven.  A  higher 
straight  flush,  or  straight,  wins  of  a  lower  one;  the  cards 
rank  as  at  whist,  except  that  ace  may  be  highest  or 
lowest.  In  combinations  other  than  straights  ace  is 
highest.  High  fours  win  of  low  ones;  of  two  fulls  the 
one  that  contains  the  highest  triplet  wins ;  of  two  flushes 
the  one  that  contains  the  highest  card  wins,  if  equal  the 
next  highest,  and  so  on  ;  a  straight  beats  triplets  (this  is 
sometimes  disputed,  but  calculation  shows  a  straight  is 
the  less  frequent  hand) ;  of  two  triplets,  the  highest  wins ; 
of  two  two-pair  hands,  the  highest  pair  wins,  if  both  pairs 
are  equal,  the  highest  card ;  of  two  hands  each  containing 
a  pair  the  highest  pair  wins,  if  equal  the  highest  remain- 
ing card  wins  ;  of  hands  containing  none  of  the  above  the 
highest  card  wins,  if  equal  the  next  highest,  and  so  on. 
In  case  of  an  absolute  tie  between  the  best  hands  they 
divide  the  pool. 

Variations  in  the  Mode  of  Playing. — Sometimes  the 
ante  may  be  raised  by  any  one  who  chips  to  fill  his  hand, 
when  succeeding  players  must  make  good  the  raise,  or  go 
better,  or  go  out  of  the  game.  This  is  a  mere  excuse  lor 
higher  play. 

The  player  to  the  dealer's  left  (the  age)  is  generally 
allowed  to  pass  the  first  round  after  the  hands  are  filled, 
and  to  come  in  again.  If  he  passes  he  says  "  my  age." 
Also,  sometimes  the  age  puts  up  the  ante  instead  of  the 
dealer.  These  useless  complications,  which  only  have  the 
effect  of  making  the  first  player  the  last  player,  are  better 
omitted. 

The  age  is  sometimes  allowed  to  go  blind,  i.e.,  to  raise 
the  ante  before  he  sees  his  cards.  The  next  player  may 
double  the  blind,  i.e.,  raise  to  double  what  the  age  staked  ; 
the  next  may  straddle  the  blind,  i.e.,  double  again  ;  the  next 
may  double  the  straddle,  and  so  on.  Only  the  age  can 
start  a  blind,  and  any  one  who  refuses  to  double  or  straddle 
prevents  a  further  raise ;  but  he  must  make  good  the  pre- 
vious stake  or  go  out  The  player  to  the  left  of  the  last 
straddler  has  the  first  say;  i.e.,  on  looking  at  his  hand 
and  before  filling,  he  declares  whether  he  will  make  good 
or  go  out.  Going  blind,  like  raising  the  ante,  is  a  mere 
pretext  for  higher  play. 

Some  players  do  not  consider  straights  in  the  game,  and 
omit  them.  This  makes  four  aces,  or  four  kings  and  an 
ace,  invincible ;  and  it  is  open  to  the  objection  that  if 
those  cards  are  held  the  player  is  backing  a  certainty. 

Hints  to  Flayers. — 1.  The  dealer  should  generally  go 
in,  as  half  his  stake  is  ah-eady  up.  2.  When  drawing  to 
fill  a  hand,  it  should  be  done  off-hand  and  without  hesita- 
tion. If  in  doubt,  it  is  better  to  go  out  of  the  game  at 
once.  A  player  may  loose  by  going  in,  but  can  never 
loose  by  going  out.  3.  In  filling  to  a  pair  it  is  generally 
right  to  diuw  three  card.s,  unless  drawing  to  a  low  pair, 
with  a  king  or  ace  in  hand.  4.  In  filling  to  two  pairs,  to 
a  four,  or  to  a  straight  or  flush  which  wants  one  card, 
exchange  one.  It  is  not  advisable  to  chip  to  fill  to  a 
straight  or  flush  wanting  more  than  one  card  ;  a  draw  to 
a  straight  or  flush  is  usually  a  dear  purchase.  With  it 
four  the  hand  cannot  be  improved  by  drawing ;  but  one 
card  should  be  taken  that  the  value  of  the  hand  may  bo 
concealed.  5.  In  filling  to  triplets  one  card  only  should 
be  drawn,  or  triplets  are  at  once  declared ;  but,  6. 
Players  should  vary  their  mode  of  discarding  to  mystify 
the  opponents,  and  should  bo  .sometimes  cautious,  somu- 
times  bold.  7.  A  good  pokerfare  is  essential ;  the  coun- 
tenance should  not  betray  the  nature  of  the  hand.  Talk 
ing  without  regard  to  facts  (poker  talk)  is  allowed,  and  is 
considered  fair  ;  but  the  best  players  put  their  cards  face 
downwards  on  the  table  and  leave  them  there,  and  neither 
move  nor  speak  until  it  is  their  turn  to  say.  8.  lilujing 
(i.e.,  raising  high  on  poor  cards),  in  hopes  of  induciug  tliu, 


284 


P  O  K  — P  O  L 


other  players  to  go  out  of  the  game,  may  be  resorted  to 
occasionally  with  success ;  but,  as  a  rule,  the  player  who 
goes  in  best  will  come  out  best.  When  about  to  bluff 
draw  only  one  card  or  no  cards.  9.  A  straight  or  higher 
hand  "may  be  backed  freely,  but  the  other  players  are 
more  likely  to  go  on  staking  if  the  raise  is  by  small  sums 
at  a  time.  The  only  general  rule  that  can  be  given  is  to 
change  the  raising  tactics  pretty  frequently. 

Lnws  of  Poker. — These  vary  cousiderably.  The  following  are 
based  on  "  the  Amerioau  Hoyle."  Determination  of  Deal. — 1.  One 
card  is  given  to  eacli  player.  Lowest  lias  the  deal.  Ace  is  lowest. 
Ties  of  lowest  card  have  one  card  each  given  again.  The  deal  goes 
in  rotation  to  the  left  of  the  last  dealer.  Shuffling,  Cntting,  and 
Dealing. — 2.  Any  one  may  shuffle,  the  dealer  last.  3.  The  player 
to  tlie  dealer's  right  cuts  at  least  four  cards.  The  dealer  reunites 
tlic  packets.  If  before  the  deal  a  card  is  exposed,  there  must  be  a 
.  fresh  cut.  A  blank  card  is  usually  placed  under  the  pack  to 
prevent  exposure  of  the  bottom  card.  4.  The  dealer  must  deal 
from  the  top  of  the  pack,  one  card  to  each  player  in  rotation, 
beginning  to  his  left.  5.  If  the  dealer  deals  without  having  the 
pack  cut,'  or  shuffles  after  it  is  cut,  or  misses  a  hand,  or  gives  too 
many  or  too  few  cards  to  any  player  (but  see  Law  6),  or  e.'cposes  a 
card  in  dealing,  he  forfeits  an  ante  to  the  pool  and  dtals  again. 
The  forfeit  does  not  raise  Hhe  other  players,  and  the  dealer  must 
still  make  his  first  ante  good  wheu  it  comes  to  his  turn,  or  go  out  of 
tlio  game.  (Some  players  merely  require  a  fresh  deal  without  any 
forfeit,  and  some  require  a  player  to  take  the  card  dealt  him  if 
only  one  card  is  exposed.)  Filling  the  Bands. — 6.  If  a  player,  after 
lifting  any  of  his  cards,  is  found  to  have  too  many  or  too  few  cards, 
he  must  go  out  of  the  game.  (Some  players  give  a  hand  with 
only  four  cards  the  option  of  going  in.)  7.  If,  when  drawing  to 
fill,  the  dealer  gives  a  player  too  many  or  too  few  cards,  and  the 
player  lifts  any  of  them,  ho  must  go  out  of  the  game.  If  the  error 
is  discovered  before  lifting,  it  can  be  rectified, — in  the  case  of  too 
many  cards  by  withdrawing  the  superfluous  ones,  in  the  case  of  too 
few  cards  by  filling  from  the  top  of  the  pack.  8.  If,  when  drawing 
to  fill,  a  card  is  exposed,  it  must  be  placed  at  the  bottom  of  the 
pack,  and  the  top  card  given  instead  (sometim«9  the  top  card 
after  all  the  other  players  are  served).  9.  Cards  thrown  out  must 
be  placed  face  downwards  in  the  middle  of  the  table  before  any  are 
drawn ;  otherwise  the  player  is  liable  to  the  penalty  for  holding 
too  many  cards  (Law  6).  10.  Any  player  before  taking  up  his 
filled  hand  may  ask  how  m.any  cards  the  dealer  drew.  Chipping. — 
11.  If  all  the  players  pass  without  chipping  to  fill,  the  dealer  takes 
back  his  ante,  and  the  deal  passes.  If,  after  filling,  no  one  before 
the  dealer  raises,  the  dealer  takes  the  pool.  12.  If  a  player  chips 
with  more  or  less  than  five  cards  (but  see  note  to  Law  6),  he  must 
go  out  of  .the  game.  But,  if  all  the  other  players  have  gone  out  of 
the  game  before  the  discovery  is  made,  there  is  no  penalty.  ,-13.  A 
player  who  passes  or  throws  up  cannot  come  in  again.  14.  Players 
are  bound  to  put  up  distinctly  the  amount  they  chip,  separate 
from  their  other  chips.  Aftercomers. — 15.  The  place  of  an  after- 
comer  is  dstermined  by  dealing  a  card  between  every  two  players. 
The  aftercomer  sits  where  the  lowest  card  was  dealt.  Incorrect 
Padis.—IQ.  The  deal  in  which  an  imperfection  of  the  pack  is  dis- 
covered is  void.     All  preceding  deals  stand  good.  (H.  J.) 

POKROYSKAYA  SLOBODA,  or  Pokeovsk,  also 
Kasakstadt,  a  village  of  the  district  of  Novo-uzen,  in  the 
government  of  Samara,  Russia,  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
Volga,  almost  opposite  Saratoff.  la  the  18th  century  it 
was  a  small  cluster  of  clay  huts  occupied  by  a  number  of 
runaway  serfs  who  had  gathered  round  the  storehouses 
erected  by  the  crown  for  salt  brought  from  Lake  Elton ; 
but,  a  body  of  free  settlers  having  been  enticed  to  the  spot 
in  1747  by  large  grants  of  grazing  ground,  the  village 
rapidly  increased,  its  inhabitants,  who  numbered  12,776 
in  1859,  now  exceeding  20,000.  They  support  themselves 
by  cattle  breeding  and  agriculture  ;  and  the  Pokrovskaya 
landing  place  is  one  of  the  most  important  on  the  Volga, 
'^the  exports,  mostly  of  -wheat,  reaching  99,850  cwts.  in 
1880. 

POLA,  the  principal  naval  harbour  and  arsenal  of  the 
Austrian-Hungarian  monarchy,  is  picturesquely  situated  at 
the  south  extremity  of  the  peninsula  of  Istria,  55  miles  to 
the  south  of  Trieste.  Its  safe  and  commodious  harbour  is 
almost  completely  landlocked,  and  there  is  also  a  good 
roadstead  between  its  mouth  and  the  Brionian  Islands. 
The  harbour  is  divided  into  two  basins  by  a  chain  of  three 
email  i.slands,  and  the  inner  basin  is  subdivided  into  the 


naval  and  the  commercial  harbour  by  the  Scoglio  Olivi,  a 
larger  island  connected  with  the  mainland  by  an  aqueduct.' 
The  hills  enclosing  the  harbour  are  defended  by  forts  and 
batteries.  The  town  proper  lies  opposite  the  Scoglio 
Olivi,  round  the  base  of  a  hill  formerly  crowned  by  the 
Roman  capitol  and  now  by  a  castle  of  the  17th  century.] 
Besides  the  castle  the  chief  mediaeval  and  modern  buildings 
are  the  cathedral  (15th  century),  the  Franciscan  convent 
(13th  century),  the  Government  and  municipal  offices,  tha 
huge  infantry  barracks,  and  the  theatre.  To  the  south-| 
west,  along  the  coast,  extends  the  marine  arsenal,  a  va.st 
and  well-planned  establishment  employing  about  2000 
workmen  and  possessing  all  the  requisites  for  the  equip- 
ment of  a  large  fleet.  It  contains  an  interesting  naval 
museum,  and  is  supplemented  by  the  docks  and  wharfs  of 
the  Scoglio  Olivi.  The  artillery  laboratory  and  the  powder 
magazine  are  on  the  north  bank  of  the  harbour.  Behind 
the  arsenal  lies  the  suburb  of  San  Policarpo,  almost  exclu- 
sively occupied  by  the  naval  population  and  containing 
large  naval  barracks  and  hospitals.  In  the  middle  of  it  is 
a  pleasant  park,  with  a  handsome  monument  to  the 
emperor  Maximilian  of  Mexico,  who  had  been  a  rear- 
admiral  in  the  Austrian  navy.  To  the  north,  between 
San  Policarpo  and  the  town  proper,  rises  the  Monte  Zarro, 
■surmounted  by  an  observatory  and  a  statue  of  Admiral 
Tegetthoff.  Pola  has  no  manufactures  outside  of  its  naval 
stores,  but  its  shipping  trade  is  now  considerable,  the 
exports  consisting  of  fish,  timber,  and  quartz  sand  used  in 
making  Venetian  glass,  and  the  imports  of  manufactured 
and  colonial  wares.  The  population  has  increased  from 
600  at  the  close  of  last  century  and  5000  in  1857  to 
25,175  in  1880,  including  a  garrison  of  5000  men.  To 
many  people,  however,  the  chief  interest  of  Pola  centres 
in  its  fine  Roman  remains.  The  most  extensive  of  these 
is  the  amphitheatre,  which  is  400  feet  long  and  320  feel 
wide,  and  could  accommodate  20,000  spectators.  It  h 
remarkable  as  the  only  Roman  amphitheatre  of  which 
the  outer  walls  have  been  preserved  intact ;  the  inte 
rior,  however,  is  now  completely  bare,  —  though  the 
arrangements  for  the  naumachiK,  or  naval  contests,  can 
still  be  traced.  The  oldest  Roman  relic  is  the  fine 
triumphal  arch  of  the  Sergii,  erected  soon  after  the  battle; 
of  Actium ;  and  of  not  much  later  date  is  the  elegant  and 
well-preserved  temple  of  Augustus  and  Roma.  Among 
the  other  antiquities  are  three  of  the  old  town-gates  and  a 
fragment  of  a  temple  of  Diana. 

The  foundation  of  Pola  is  usually  carried  back  to  the 
mythic  period,  and  ascribed  to  the  Colchian  pursuers  of 
Jason  and  the  Argonauts.  In  all  probability  it  was  a 
Thracian  colony,  but  its  verifiable  history  begins  with  its 
capture  by  the  Romans  in  178  B.C.  It  was  destroyed  by 
Augustus  on  account  of  its  espousal  of  the  cause  of  Pom- 
pey,  but  was  rebuilt  on  the  intercession  of  his  daughter 
Julia,  and  received  (according  to  Pliny)  the  name  of  Pietas 
Julia.  It  seems  to  have  attained  its  greatest  prcsperity 
about  the  time  of  the  emperor  Septimius  Severus  (193- 
211  A.D.),  when  it  w-as  an  important  war  harbour  and  con- 
tained 35,000  to  50,000  inhabitants.  At  a  later  period 
Pola  became  the  capital  of  the  margraves  of  Istria,  and 
was  more  than  once  captured  and  plundered  by  the  Vene- 
tians, who  finally  made  themselves  masters  of  the  penin- 
sula. In  1379  the  Genoese,  after  defeating  the  Venetians 
in  a  great  naval  battle  off  the  coast,  took  and  destroyed 
Pola,  which  disappears  from  history  for  the  next  four 
hundred  and  fifty  years.  It  remained  under  Venetian 
supremacy  down  to  1797,  and  has  been  permanently 
united  with  Austria  since  1815.  In  1848  a  new  era 
began  for  Pola  in  its  being  selected  as  the  principal 
naval  harbour  of  Austria,  and  since  then  its  progress  has 
been  constant. 


285 


POLAND 


POLAND  (the  Polish  Pols'ka,  German  Polen,  French 
Fologne)  was  till  towards  the  ead  of  the  18th  century 
a  large  and  powerful  kingdom,  extending  with  Lithuania, 
■which  was  incorporated  with  it,  over  the  basins  of  the  Warta, 
Vistula,  Dwina,  Dnieper,  and  upper  Dniester,  dnd  having 
under  its  dominion,  besides  the  Poles  proper  and  the 
Baltic  Slavs,  the  Lithuanians,  the  White  Kussians,  and  the 
Little  Russians  or  Ruthenians. 

If  Schafarik  is  correct  in  seeing  the  name  of  the  Poles 
in  the  Bulanes  of  the  geographer  Ptolemy,  we  should  have 
this  Slavonic  people  mentioned  as  early  as  the  2d  century 
after  Christ.'  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  the  derivation 
of  the  name  ;  the  country  is  one  vast  plain,  and  thus  the 
Poles  come  to  mean  dwellers  of  the  plain  or  field  (pole). 
Jordanes  has  no  distinct  name  for  them,  although  he  speaks 
ef  Slavs  inhabiting  the  banks  of  the  Vistula.  About  the 
6th  or  7th  century  we  find  a  people  called  Lekhs  settled  near 
that  river,  and  this  appears  to  be  the  oldest  name  which 
■we  can  positively  assign  to  the  Poles.  These  Lekhs  are 
considered  by  Szajnocha  and  some  of  the  modern  school  of 
historians  to  have  been  a  Norse  -tribe  who  in  the  6th  cen- 
tury ruled  over  the  Slavonic  peoples  from  the  Baltic  to  the 
Carpathians.  And,  if  this  were  the  case,  the  origin  of  the 
Polish  kingdom  would  be  traced  to  the  same  source  as  the 
Russian  empire.  No  satisfactory  etymology  has  been 
given  as  yet  of  the  word  Lekh  or  Lech ;  we  cannot  accept 
Schafarik's  attempt  to  connect  it  with  szlachta,  nobility, 
as  that  word  is  in  all  probability  derived  from  the  German 
geschlecht.  From  the  form  of  the  word  Lech,  Russian 
Liakh,  we  can  see  that  the  vowel  represents  a  suppressed 
nasal,  and  this  is  further  proved  by  the  change  which  it 
undergoes  in  the  neighbouring  languages  ;  thus  in  Lithu- 
anian we  get  Lenkas  and  in  Magyar  Lengyel.  The 
chronicle  of  Thomas,  archdeacon  of  Spalato,  calls  them 
Lingones  (Bielowski,  Mon.  Hist.  Pol.),  the  Polish  chronicles 
of  Mierzwa  and  of  Vincent  Kadlubek  Lenchitx,  Linchitx. 
The  loss  of  the  nasal  in  the  modern  Polish  form  is 
curious,  and  contrary  to  the  analogy  of  the  language  ;  it  is 
supposed  to  have  disappeared  under  the  influence  of 
Russian  pronunciation.  In  the  13th  century  Kadlubek 
invented  the  imaginary  heros  eponymus  Lekh,  supposed  to 
have  been  the  father  of  the  Poles,  and  two  brothers  were 
found  for  him,  Czech  and  Rus.^  A  great  similarity  has 
teen  noticed  between  these  early  heroes  and  others  among 
the  Czechs.  Thus  we  may  compare  Cracus  and  Krok, 
Piast  and  Premysl.  Many  of  the  legendary  tales  greatly 
resemble  Scandinavian  sagas,  as  indeed  much  of  the  early 
Russian  history  does  which  is  contained  in  the  chronicle 
of  Nestor.  Gradually  the  name  Lekh  was  superseded  by 
Poliani  or  Polaki.  Nestor,  the  old  Russian  chronicler,  or 
at  least,  the  work  which  goes  under  his  name,  knows  both 
appellations  and  distinguishes  between  Poliani  Liakhove 
nn  the  Vistula  and  Poliane  Rousove  on  tlie  Dnieper. 
When  wo  first  become  acquainted  with  the  Poles  we  find 
them  like  the  other  Slavonic  peoples  living  in  a  kind  of 
democratic  communism,  to  which  we  need  not  assign  the 
patriarchal  simplicity  and  happiness  in  which  some  of  their 
chroniclers,  e.g.,  Dlugosz,  would  make  us  believe.  All 
the  early  period  of  Polish  history  is  mixed  up  ■\vith  fables. 
Their  first  writers  Gallus,  Kadlubek,  Dlugosz,  Kromer, 
and   others,  who  were  ecclesiastics  and  used   the  Latin 

'  There  is  another  reading,  Sulanes  or  Sulonu  ;  but  tho  former  is 
oreferred  by  tho  best  editors. 

^  For  a  furtlier  discussion  of  this  subject,  see  tno  inacxea  to  M. 
Lcgor's  Nestor  (p.  328),  and  especially  tho  Archiv  f\lT  Statpuche 
Philologie  (vol.  iii.,  Ueber  die  NamenfUr  Polcn  vnd  Lechen,  by  Prof. 
Nehrins,  and  vol.  iv.,  Polen,  Ljachen,  Wenden,  by  Prof.  Pcrwnin. 


languEge  as  their  literary  medium  and  handled  it~witli 
considerable  dexterity,  have  treated  these  stories  as 
genuine  history, — ^just  as  Holinshed,  Milton,  Sir  Richard 
Baker,  and  others  did  the  Arthurian  legends.  The  careful 
criticism,  however,  of  modern  times  has  relegated  them  to 
their  proper  place,  and  Lelewel  has  classified  all  the  period 
of  Polish  history  from  the  earliest  times  to  the  reign  of 
Mieczystaw  I.  as  belonging  to  the  era  of  myths.  W^e  are 
hardly  likely  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  a  Duke  Lech  or 
a  beautiful  Princess  Wanda,  who  flourished  in  the  8th  cen- 
tury, or  in  Cracus,  said  to  have  been  the  founder  of  Cracow. 
AH  these  are  obviously  only  generic  and  national  names 
individualized.  Many  of  the  quaint  and  striking  stories  of 
these  princes  have  done  duty  in  all  the  legendary  history  of 
Europe.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  poems  corresponding 
to  the  Russian  bllini  are  imbedded  in  the  writings  of  these 
early  chroniclers.  The  good  peasant  Piast,  from  whom 
was  derived  the  celebrated  line  of  kings,  reminds  us  of  the 
Mikoula  Selianinovich  of  the  Russians  and  the  Pfemysl  of 
the  Czechs.  Kromer  has  tricked  out  the  legend  of  his  call 
to  the  throne  in  all  the  graces  of  his  elegant  Latinity. 

Bielowski,    the    editor    of    the    Monumenta    Polonix  -^i^ws  • 
Ilistorica,  in   his    Wstep   Krytyczny   do    Dziejow   i^o/sArt '  Bie'owsU 
("Critical  Introduction  to  Polish  History")  endeavoured 
to  prove  that  the  original  Poles  dwelt  on  the  banks  of  the 
Danube,    from  which  they  were  driven  by  the  Romans. 
He  also  attempts  to  trace  them  in  the  2d  and  3d  centuries 
after  Christ.     According  to  the  whimsical  theory  of  this 
author — a  man  to  whom  Slavonic  history  in  other  respects 
owes  so  much — the  original  habitation  of  the  Poles  was 
by  the  Lake  of  Ochrida.     The  L^chites  (Lyncestae)  in  the 
3d  century  before  Christ  were  driven  by  the  Celts  beyond 
the  Danube,  and  there  the  kingdom  of  Dacia  was  founded 
King  Boirebista  is  Leszek  II.,  Decebalus  is  Semowit,  Ac. 
Lelewel  and  Bielowski   seem  to  have  identified  all  the 
Thracian  peoples  with  the  Slavs. 

All  that  we  are  told  of  the  early  Slavs  shows  them  to  The  ear* 
have  been  a  quiet  agricultural  people.  We  find  them  at  S'"* 
first  living  in  village  communities  with  a  tribal  govern- 
ment. Nestor  says,  "  The  Poliani  lived  in  separate 
groups,  and  each  governed  his  family."  Gradually  a 
class  of  serfs  sprung  up,  whose  Origin  cannot  be  clearly 
traced.  Rdpell  in  his  history  supposes  that  they  were 
the  descendants  of  rival  tribes  who  had  been  conquered. 
At  all  events  wo  soon  find  the  following  divisions  of 
society  among  the  Poles: — (1)  the  nobility,  szlac/i'a,  who 
throughout  Polish  history  constitute  the  nation  properly 
so-called ;  (2)  a  superior  cla-ss  of  peasants  who  were  per 
sonally  free,  but  bound  to  perform  certain  services  (these 
are  always  called  in  the  old  Polish  documents  cmetones, 
or  kmetono,  Polish  kmieci) ;  and  (3)  the  peasants  strictly 
so  called,  who  were  the  property  of  their  masters  and  had 
no  rights.  We  shall  see  how  there  was  gradually  formed 
in  Poland  a  proud  military  aristocracy,  which  circumscribed 
tho  power  of  tho  king  by  the  pucta  coiiventa,  so  that  h« 
became  a  mere  puppet  in  their  hands.  Tho  nobles  had  ab- 
solute power  over  their  serfs,  as  each  separate  imlatinato  had 
its  tribunals.  In  course  of  time  tho  kmieci  became  mere 
bondsmen.  The  miserable  condition  of  the  latter  is  seen 
in  such  books  as  Connor'.s  Letters  on  Poland,  published  at 
the  conclusion  of  tho  17tli  century.  Connor,  who  was 
physician  to  John  Sobieski,  had  good  opportunities  foi 

•  The  following  directions  for  pronunciation  may  bo  useful  :— 
e~t3;  cz  —  ch;  sz  —  ah;  «  — «A  (tho  French  j,  as  in  ^our)  ;  I  has  a 
thicic  sound  which  can  only  bo  acquired  by  car.  In  nearly  every 
word  the  n'-cent  is  on  llic  |>cniilt. 


286 


P  0  L  A.  N  D 


[lIISTOBT. 


forming  an  opinion."  Thus  the  trade  of  the  country  fell 
wholly  into  the  hands  of  foreigners  and  Jews. 

With  the  reign  of  Jlieczystaw  I.  (962-992)  we  begin  to 
have  something  firmer  in  our  grasp.  He  became  a  suitor 
for  the  hand  of  Dabr6wka,  the  daughter  of  the  king  of 
Bohemia.  Being  a  Christian  she  refused  to  give  her  hand 
to  a  pagan,  and  Mieczystaw  consented  to  be  baptized  in 
965.  He  had  been  previously  conquered  by  the  Germans, 
who  seem  to  have  enforced  conversion  from  all  whom  they 
brought  into  subjection.  After  this  he  proceeded  to 
fxtirpate  the  worship  of  idols  in  as  autocratic  a  manner  as 
Vladimir  had  employed,  when  at  Kieff  Peroun,  the  god  of 
Jirar,  was  thrown  from  his  pedestal  and  ignominiously  cast 
jnto  the  Dnieper.  In  980  an  edict  was  issued  that  every 
Pole  who  had  not  already  submitted  to  baptism  should 
immediately  undergo  it.  No  opposition  was  offered  to 
this  strange  decree,  which  from  its  easy  adoption  would 
seem  to  have  left  but  little  impression  upon  the  neo- 
phytes, and  probably  the  chroniclers  have  some  reason 
for  their  assertion  that  Mieczystaw  liimself  subsequently 
relapsed  into  gross  sins.  This  complete  conversion  of 
the  nation  appears  to  have  been  aided  by  the  labours  of 
Bt  Adalbert,  bishop  of  Prague.  Such  traces  as  remained 
of  the  early  Orthodox  creed  which  had  been  introduced 
from  Moravia  were  effaced,  although  they  remained  for 
Bome  time  in  the  sister  kingdom  of  Bohemia,  and  we 
find  a  monastery  established  by  the  emperor  Charles  IV. 
for  Greek  monks  at  Prague.  Mieczystaw  acknowledged 
himself  to  be  the  feudatory  of  Otho  of  Germany ;  he  also 
resisted  the  encroachments  of  Vladimir  of  Russia,  for 
already  the  feud  between  the  two  nations  was  commencing. 
He  died  in  992  universally  regretted,  as  we  are  told,  and 

J"iie8ta\y  waa  succeeded  by  his  son  Bolestaw,  surnamed  the  Great. 

*«Grettt.  During  his  reign  Otho  III.  of  Germany  paid  him  a  visit, 
and  the  Polish  prince  received  him  with  such  magnificence 
that  the  emperor  elevated  his  duchy  into  a  kingdom, 
probably  intending  that  it  should  always  remain  a  fief  of 
the  empire.  Dlugosz  and  Kromer  vie  with  each  other  in 
describing  the  splendour  of  this  meeting ;  they  are,  how- 
ever, far  outdone  by  their  predecessor  Gallus,  who  speaks 
of  magnificent  military  manoeuvres  prepared  by  Bolestaw 
to  delight  his  guest,  and  of  the  gorgeous  array  of  the 
lords  and  court  ladieu ;  "  for  gold,"  he  adds,  "  was  at  this 
time  held  as  common  as  silver  and  silver  as  cheap  as 
straw."  Finally,  Otho  hailed  Bolestaw  as  king,  and  him- 
self put  the  diadem  upon  his  head.  At  his  departure  he 
presented  the  Polish  king  with  the  lance  of  St  Maurice, 
etill  to  be  seen,  as  Kromer  tells  us,  in  the  cathedral  of 
Cracow  ;  and  Bolestaw  in  turn  offered  as  a  gift  the  arm  of 
Bt  AdallDert,  the  patron  saint  of  Poland.  Lelewel  treats 
the  whole  story  of  this  coronation  as  a  myth,  because,  as 
he  observes,  at  that  time  kings  were  always  crowned  by 
bishops.  Bolestaw  afterwards  defeated  the  Russi  ".  prince, 
and  spent  the  latter  part  of  his  reign  in  administering 
justice  throughout  his  kingdom.  By  the  commencement 
pf  the  11th  century  he  had  absorbed  nearly  all  the  western 
Slavonic  states,  including  Bohemia.  He  enjoyed  among 
his  subjects  the  epithet  of  Chrohry,  or  brave.  The  Germans, 
however,  in  derision  of  his  corpulence,  which  he  endea- 
voured to  lessen  by  hunting,  called  him  Trinkhier.  To  him 
is  due  the  foundation  of  the  archbishopric  of  Gniezno 
(Gnesen),  the  chief  see  in  Poland. 

Towards  the  end  of  his  life  he  sought  to  aggrandize 
himself  at  the  expense  of  Russia.  He  had  previously,  in 
1013  according  to  Thietmar,  given  his  daughter  in 
marriage  to  Sviatopolk,  the  nephew  of  Vladimir.  His 
expedition  against  Kieif  is  alluded  to  by  Nestor,  but 
narrated  more  in  detail  by  Thietmar  and  Martin  Gallus. 
According  to  the  latter  he  entered  Kieff  with  the  Polovtzi 
«  his  auxiliaries,  and  struck    the  golden  gate  with  bis 


sword.  He  was  succeeded  by  Mieczystaw  his  son,  who 
abandoned  himself  to  pleasure  and  left  the  kingdom  in  a 
disordered  state.  He  is  said  to  have  first  divided  Poland 
into  palatinates,  a  term  which  will  be  explained  shortly. 
On  his  death  an  interregnum  ensued  and  his  queen  Ryxa, 
niece  of  Otho  of  Germany,  held  the  regency.  Owing, 
however,  to  the  continual  feuds  between  the  Slavs  and 
Germans,  she  was  driven  out  of  the  kingdom  and  betook 
herself  to  Saxony,  whither  her  son  soon  followed  her. 
During  their  absence  Poland  presented  a  spectacle  of 
anarchy,  the  commencement  of  the  long  series  of  miseries 
of  this  unhappy  country.  The  serfs  are  said  to  have  risen 
everywhere  and  massacred  their  lords,  and  even  the 
priests  were  not  spared.  Moreover,  two  foreign  wars,  with 
Bohemia  on  the  one  hand  and  Russia  on  the  other,  increased 
their  miseries..  The  pious  Kromer  chiefly  laments  the 
sacred  relics  carried  o£E  by  the  ferocious  Bohemians 
which  were  never  restored.  To  heal  the  universal  wounds 
it  was  resolved  to  send  for  Kazimierz  (Casimir),  the  son  of 
Mieczystaw  and  Ryxa.  But  it  required  some  time  to  find 
him,  for  he  was  hidden  in  Germany,  although  the  story  of  his 
having  become  a  monk  in  the  abbey  of  Cluny  in  Burgundy 
has  been  shown  by  Ropell  to  be  groundless.  We  shall  see 
afterwards  that  a  Polish  king  did  actually  seek  in  a  cloister 
re^t  from  the  turbulence  of  his  subjects.  Kazimierz 
married  Maria  the  sister  of  Yaroslav,  the  prince  of  Kieff, 
who  was  willing  to  abjure  the  Greek  faitli,  and  embrac- 
ing the  I<atin  took  the  name  of  Dohrogniewa.  By  this 
marriage  he  became  the  brother-in-law  of  Henry  I.  of 
France,  who  had  married  another  sister.  This  king 
induced  several  monks  to  come  from  Cluny,  and  founded 
two  monasteries  for  them,  one  near  Cracow  and  the  other 
in  Silesia,  at  this  time  forming  part  of  the  kingdom  of 
Poland.  From  the  earliest  period  we  find  the  country 
inundated  with  foreign  ecclesiastics ;  and  to  this  cause  we 
may  probably  trace  the  long  use  among  the  Poles  of  the 
Latin  language.  Kazimierz  was  succeeded  by  a  second 
Bolestaw  (1058-1101),  of  whom  many  curious  stories  are 
told.  In  an  expedition  against  Iziaslav,  the  prince  of 
Kieff,  he  took  that  city  and  remained  in  it  some  time  with 
his  troops.  The  stay  of  Bolestaw  and  his  soldiers  at  Kiefi 
is  said  to  have  been  attended  with  the  same  deleterious 
efi'ects  as  befell  Hannibal  and  the  Carthaginians  at  Capua; 
and  the  conduct  of  the  Polish  ladies  during  the  absence  of 
their  lords,  unless  the  chroniclers  belie  them,  cannot  be 
held  up  as  an  example  to  wives.  The  whole  story,  how- 
ever, has  a  very  mythical  air. 

The  most  remarkable  event,  however,  of  the  reign  of 
Bolestaw  was  the  murder  of  St  Stanistaw.  In  this  respect 
he  emulated  Henry  11.  of  England;  he  dared  to  come  into 
collision  with  the  ecclesiastical  power,  but  he  did  not  sug- 
gest the  assassination  of  so  prominent  a  person  to  others ; 
he  accomplished  the  deed  with  his  own  hand.  His 
excesses  had  long  drawn  upon  him  the  censure  of  Stanis- 
taw, who  concluded  by  putting  all  the  churches  of  Cracow 
under  an  interdict.  Upon  this  the  king  vowed  vengeance 
on  his  denunciator.  The  Polish  chroniclers  tell  us  that,  on 
hearing  that  the  saint  was  to  celebrate  mass  in  a  chapel, 
he  took  with  him  a  few  determined  followers  and  hurried 
to  the  place.  He,  however,  forbore  to  break  in  upon  the 
scene  till  the  service  was  concluded.  This  being  over,  he 
ordered  some  of  his  attendants,  to  enter  and  slay  the  pre- 
late. '  They  were  restrained,  however,  by  a  miracle,  for, 
endeavouring  to  strike  Stanistaw  to  the  earth,  they  all 
suddenly  fell  backward.  Again  and  again  Bolestaw  urged 
them  on,  and  the  miracle  was  repeated  a  third  time,  until 
the  king  rushed  in  and  with  one  blow  clove  the  skull 
of  the  ecclesiastic.  Kromer  tells  us  that  immediately 
after  the  murder  the  king  and  his  impious  satellites 
slashed  the  body,  separated  it  into  many  pieces,  and  cast 


S62-1279.] 


POLAND 


28; 


it  to  be  devoured  by  dogs  and  birds  of  prey.  It  was;- 
however,  guarded  by  eagles  who  kept  off  the  assailants ; 
»nd,  some  inoiiks  collecting  the  remains,  they  all  became 
hiysteriously  reunited  and  were  afterwards  honourably 
interred  at  Cracow.  Such  a,  crime  was  not  likely  to  go 
unpunished  in  those  days.  Gregory  VII.  (Ilildebrand) 
placed  the  whole  kingdom  under  an  interdict.  Bolestaw, 
regarded  with  hatred  by  all  his  subjects,  fled  into  Hungary, 
but  of  his  end  wo  have  no  certain  information.  After  the 
disappearance  of  Boleslaw,  who  had  taken  his  son  with 
bim,  the  state  remained  nearly  a  j'ear  without  a  sovereign. 
Finally,  being  afraid  of  a  Russian  or  Hungarian  invasion, 
the  Poles  called  to  the  throne  Wtadyslaw  (Ladislaus),  the 
brother  of  Bolestaw.  Anxious  to  remove  the  interdict,  he 
at  once  despatched  ambassadors  to  the  pope  ;  but,  although 
the  churches  were  allowed  to  be  reopened,  so  great  was 
the  authority  of  the  occupant  of  the  chair  of  St  Peter, 
who  refused  again  to  ratify  the  title  of  king,  that  for 
two  hundred  years  from  this  time  no  Polish  rulor  could 
legitimately  assume  such  a  dignity,  but  was  obliged  to 
consent  to  the  humbler  appellation  of  duke.  Wtadystaw, 
who  was  engaged  in  constant  wars  with  the  Russians 
And  the  heathen  inhabitants  of  Prussia,  died  in  1202 
at  Ptock,- — as  was  suspected,  of  poison.  The  power  of 
Poland  was  diminished  in  his  reign,  as  many  provinces 
were  occupied  by  the  Russians.  He  was  succeeded  by  his 
son,  Bolestaw  III.,  to  whom  the  Poles  have  affixed  the 
surname  of  Krzywousty,  or  the  Wry-mouthed.  Kromer 
tells  us,  "  Fuit  autem  Boleslaus  hie,  habitudine  corporis 
satis  firma,  vegeta,  et  laborum  patiente,  colore  fusco,  statura 
mediocri,  os  ei  carbunculus  morbus  ab  ineunte  adolescentia 
distorserat,  atque  inde  Criuousti  cognomentum  habuit." 
He  married  Sbislava,  the  daughter  of  Sviatopolk,  the 
prince  of  Kieff,  and  was  successful  in  many  wars,  till,  hav- 
ing eventually  been  defeated  by  the  Hungarians  on  the 
banks  of  the,  Dniester,  he  is  said  to  have  died  of  grief. 
He  seems  to  have  been  a  redoubtable  warrior,  and  to  have 
distinguished  himself  in  some  very  hard  fighting.  His 
expeditions  against  the  Pomeranians  were  characterized 
fay  much  cruelty,  for  we  are  told  that  Gniewomir,  one  of 
their  chiefs,  was  beaten  to  death  in  the  presence  of  the 
Polish  army.  Besides  his  attack  upon  the  Pomeranians 
we  learn  from  Gallus  that  he  also  marched  against  the 
Prussians,  whom  he  utterly  defeated,  returning  with  a 
large  spoil  of  cattle  and  other  booty.  His  most  import- 
ant war,  however,  was  with  the  German  emperor  Henry 
v.;  the  husband  of  Matilda,  the  daughter  of  our  Henry  I. 
He  had  probably  become  jealous  of  the  rising  power  of 
Bolestaw,  for  the  Germans  at  that  time  affected  to  regard 
Poland  as  a  fief  of  the  empire.  The  only  event  of  much 
interest  in  this  war  is  the  gallant  defence  of  Glogau,  where 
the  imperialists  were  driven  off,  in  spite'  of  their  furious 
onslaught,  and  were  ultimately  routed  near  Breslau.  The 
emperor  fled  precipitately,  and  the  Poles  gave  little  or  no 
tjuarter.  The  field,  says  Kromer,  where  the  battle  iook 
place  was  full  of  corpses,  and  exhibited  a  .sorry  and  lament- 
able spectacle.  The  bodies  of  the  Poles  weio  carefully 
sought  out  and  interred,  but  the  Germans  were  unburied 
and  lay  as  food  for  dogs  and  birds.  In  consequence  of 
this  the  number  of  dogs  who  frequented  tlio  spot  was  bo 
great  that  the  road  was  rendered  difficult  to  travellers. 
The  place  was  called  the  Field  of  the  Dog  botfi  by  the 
Poles  and  Germans,  a  name  which  has  obtained  till  the 
present  day.  Kromer,  however,  tells  us  that  some  of  the 
German  historians  claimed  the  victory  for  their  nation. 
Whatever  the  result  may  have  been,  peace  was  soon  after- 
wards made  between  the  emperor  and  the  duke,  a  peace 
which  was  further  con.solidatod  by  the  marriage  of  Bolestaw 
and  his  son  Wtadystaw  to  members  of  the  imperial  family. 
Before  his  death  the  Polish  duke,  following  the  same  fatal 


course  which  in  Russia  paved  the  way  tor  its  subjugatiot 
by  the  INIongols,  parcelled  out  his  territories  to  his  song 
Wtadystaw,  Boleslaw,  Mieezyslaw,  and  Henrj.  Therf 
remained  a  fifth  and  youngest  son,  at  that  time  of  tendel 
age,  Kazimierz.  The  duke  being  asked  why  be  had 
left  him  portionless  is  said  to  have  declared  that  the  four 
wheeled  chariot  must  have  a  driver,  thus,  as  it  were, 
prophesying  the  future  pre-eminence  of  this  child.  Th« 
prediction,  which  looks  very  much  like  a  prophecy  atiei 
the  event,  reminds  us  of  William  the  Conqueror  distribut- 
ing his  kingdom  to  his  sons.  The  quarrels  of  these 
princes  are  very  tedious.  Wtadystaw  was  ultimatelj 
driven  out  and  Bolestaw  became  supreme.  His  subjecte 
gave  him  the  nickname  of  R^dzierzawy,  or  the  curiy. 
He  was  drawn  into  a  contest  with  the  German  einperoi 
Frederick  Barbarossa,  who  invaded  Poland  in  the  yea> 
1158.  It  would  have  been  impossible  fur  Bolestaw  tc 
meet  so  formidable  a  foe  in  the  field ;  he,  however, 
succeeded  in  forcing  him  to  make  peace  by  continuaHj 
harassing  his  army,  and  laying  waste  the  territory  befort 
it.  Frederick  again  attempted  to  convert  Poland  into  ( 
fief  of  the  German  empire,  but  failed.  Bolestaw  signed  t 
peace  by  which  he  consented  to  give  Silesia  to  his  brothei 
Wladystaw,  and  the  Poles  were  to  furnish  three  hundred 
spearmen  to  assist  the  emperor  Frederick  against  Milan.  An 
expedition  which  he  undertook  against  the  Prussians  in  1 167 
was  unsuccessful ;  in  consequence,  as  Kromer  assures  us, 
of  treachery,  the  Poles  became  entangled  in  the  marshes  ol 
the  country  and  were  cut  to  pieces.  On  his  death  Bolestai 
was  succeeded  by  his  brother  Mieczystaw,  who  was  8< 
unpopular  that  he  was  expelled  from  the  country  in  1177 
The  crown,  therefore,  according  to  the  prophecy,  devolved 
upon  Kazimierz,  the  youngest  son  of  Bolestaw  Krzywousty 
During  his  reign  many  judicious  laws  were  passed  in 
Poland  ;  among  other  improvements  he  abolished  the  evil 
custom  of  purveyance.  His  reign  was  tranquil,  and  by 
summoning  a  council  of  the  bishops  and  nobles  at  £i§czyca 
he  may  be  said  to  have  instituted  the  Polish  senate,  at  all 
events  to  have  laid  the  foundations  of  it.  At  this  time 
the  third  crusade  was  preached  in  Poland,  and  the  ordoi 
of  the  Cistercians  was  introduced  into  the  country.  W« 
shall  pass  rapidly  over  the  reigns  of  Leszek  V.  (the  White\ 
Wtadystaw  III.,  and  another  Bolestaw.  Conrad,  duke  d 
Masovia  and  brother  of  Leszek,  introduced  the  order  ol 
Teutonic  knights  into  the  Polish  territories  on  the  Baltic; 
from  whom  the  Prussian  monarchy,  one  of  the  greaf 
enemies  of  the  republic,  was  afterwards  to  develop  itself 
In  the  reign  of  Bolestaw  V.  (1227-1279)  the  Mongol 
made  an  incursion  into  Poland,  but  were  subsequentL 
diverted  into  Hungary,  having  gained  a  victory  ot  Lig 
nica  (Liegnitz)  in  Silesia  in  1241.  They  carried  off  great 
quantities  of  booty.  It  is  said  that  on  this  oconsion 
nine  sacks  were  filled  with  the  ears  of  the  slain.  During 
their  stay  Bolestaw,  like  Ivan  the  Terrible  at  n  latei 
period,  remained  cloistered  in  a  monastery  Leiewel 
dwells  pathetically  upon  the  many  evils  suffered  by  Poland 
during  the  long  reign  of  this  jirince,  and  says  ho  was  an 
unjust  judge,  a  soldier  who  had  aversion  to  fighting,  and 
a  sovereign  who  neglected  the  government.  At  this  time 
al.so  commenced  the  introduction  of  Germans  into  the 
country  in  such  numbers  as  to  threaten  to  denationaliz* 
it.  The  trade  was  almost  entirely  in  their  hands,  aud 
instead  of  being  governed  by  Polish  laws  they  enjoyed  the 
benefit  of  the  Jim  Marjdtlmrrjicmn.  The  wide  influence  of 
those  foreigners  is  shown  by  the  many  words  of  Ocrman 
origin  to  bo  found  in  the  Polish  language. 

An    unfortunate  and  uninteresting  j)rinco,  Leszek  the 

Black,   succeeded,  but  the  dignity  of  the  house  of  Piast 

wa-s  fully  restored  when  Trzemystaw,  without  condescending 

,  to  solicit  the  title  of  aovercigu  from  the  hands  of  the  popa 


288 


POLAND 


[HISTORy. 


received  the  crown  from  his  nobles  and  clergy  at  Gniezno 
(Guesen).  Thus  did  Poland  again  become  a  kingdom. 
This  unfortunate  prince,  however,  was  afterwards  murdered 
by  the  margrave  of  Brandenburg  at  Kogozno  (1295).  The 
reign  of  Wactaw  (Wenceslaus)  (1300-5)  was  not  of  great 
importance.  He  united  the  crowns  of  Poland  and 
Bohemia,  but  soon  became  unpopular  on  account  of  his 
preference  of  his  Bohemian  subjects.  Shortly  after  his 
election  he  left  the  country,  and,  confiding  the  control  of 
Poland  to  the  Bohemian  garrisons,  retreated  with  his  wife 
to  Prague,  having  been  invited  to  take  the  crDwn  of 
Hungary,  which  he  soon  abandoned  to  his  son.  His 
death  in  the  year  1305  was  accompanied  by  suspicious 
circumstances  which  rendered  it  probable  that  it  had  been 
brought  about  by  poison.  With  him  expired  the  race  of 
the  holy  peasant  Pf  emysl,  which  had  ruled  Bohemia  accord- 
ing to  the  ancient  chronicles  for  nearly  six  hundred  years. 
The  relations  of  the  latter  country  to  the  German  empire 
were  now  to  become  much  closer.  Wladyslaw  Loketiek, 
who  succeeded  Wactaw,  was  constantly  engaged  in  wars 
with  the  Teutonic  knights.  In  three  expeditions  against 
them  he  allowed  his  troops  to  commit  great  excesses.  A 
full  account  of  them  may  be  found  in  Kromer,  who  has 
given  us  a  florid  speech  said  to  have  been  uttered  by 
Wladystaw  before  one  of  the  battles.  Several  heretics  at 
this  time  made  their  appearance  in  Poland,  advocating 
among  other  things  communistic  doctrines.  They  were 
severely  .repressed,  and  from  this  time  dates  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Inquisition  in  the  country  which  lasted  till 
the  days  of  Sigismund  I.  About  1312  Cracow  appears  to 
have  been  made  the  capital  of  the  kingdom,  and  continued 
BO  till  the  reign  of  Sigismund  IIL 

Wtadystaw  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Kazimi^rz  (Casimir) 
IIL,  justly  surnamed  the  Great,  whose  reign  was  a  golden 
period  for  Poland.  The  material  prosperity  of  the  country 
increased  very  much  at  this  time.  Commerce  was  active  ; 
the  Russians  supplied  the  inhabitants  with  furs  ;  the  south- 
em  parts  of  Europe  sent  wines,  carpets,  silks,  cotton,  &c. 
The  principal  towns  of  Poland,  Dantzic  and  Cracow,  to  assist 
the  development  of  their  commerce,  joined  the  Hanseatic 
league.  The  towns  on  the  Vistula  now  began  to  increase 
in  number  and  importance,  and  we  first  hear  of  Warsaw, 
which,  however,  was  not  made  the  capital  of  the  kingdom 
till  the  reign  of  Sigismund  III.  In  1364  Kazimi^rz  laid 
the  foundation  of  the  university  of  Cracow,  but  it  was 
reserved  for  Queen  Jadwiga  to  carry  out  his  plans.  One 
of  the  most  important  events  of  his  reign  was  the  pass- 
ing of  the  statute  of  Wislica  (1347).  In  this  legal  docu- 
ment the  palatines  and  castellans  are  mentioned,  and  the 
authority  possessed  by  them  is  carefully  defined.  It  may 
be  well  to  enumerate  here  some  of  the  chief  functionaries 
of  the  republic.  The  duty  of  a  palatine  was  to  lead 
the  troops  of  his  palatinate  on  any  military  expedition, 
and  to  preside  in  the  little  diets  or  assemblies  of  the 
nobility  of  his  province.  Immediately  after  the  palatines 
came  the  castellans,  who,  like  the  former,  were  all  senators. 
They  were  lieutenants  of  the  palatines  in  time  of  war, 
leading  the  nobility  of  their  jurisdiction  into  the  field, 
under  the  command  of  the  palatines.  Both  the  palatines 
and  castellans  held  judicial  tribunals  in  their  respective 
provinces.  The  nuntii  (posit/)  were  the  deputies  returned 
by  the  various  districts  of  the  palatinates.  There  were 
sixteen  ecclesiastical  senators,  including  the  primate  (the 
archbishop  of  Gniezno)  and  the  archbishop  of  Lemberg. 
They  all  sat  in  one  house.  The  starosias,  employed  in 
collecting  the  revenue  and  other  functions,  had  no  seat  in 
the  house.  There  are  many  things  in  the  statute  of  Wislica 
favourable  to  the  peasant ;  thus  the  power  of  life  and  death 
over  him,  which  his  master  had  previously  enjoyed,  was 
abolished.     The  peasant  was  not  r/lebx  ascriptus,  and  if  ill- 


treated  by  one  lord  could  move  to  the  estate  of  another. 
The  inhabitants  of  the  towns,  foreign  and  chiefly  German 
artisans  were  governed  by  the  Jus  Magdelmrgicum ;  but 
appeals  to  Magdeburg  itself  were  prohibited ;  for  tiiis 
purpose  a  Teutonic  tribunal  was  established  at  Cracow 
consisting  of  a  judge  properly  acquainted  with  foreigi 
law,  and  of  seven  citizens  nominated  by  the  starosta 
Kromer,  in  his  Polonia,  says,  "  Legum  scriptarnm  nuUus 
fuit  usus  apud  Polonos  vetustioribus  temporibus ;  nee 
ullje  extant  antiquiores  iis  quas  Cazimirus  magnus  rex 
condidit."  A  national  diet  was  now  being  formed.  It 
consisted  of  the  upper  clergy  and  the  nobles,  but  the  in 
ferior  clergy  and  the  citizens  seem  sometimes  to  have  been 
admitted.  Gradually  questions  of  peace  and  war  were 
introduced  and  even  the  election  of  kings,  the  principle  oi 
departing  from  the  hereditary  line  being  admitted— a  con- 
cession afterwards  attended  with  great  evils  to  Poland. 
The  improvements  of  Kazimierz  were  not  confined  to  law- 
making ;  he  fortified  the  chief  towns  of  his  kingdom,  and 
built  many  of  their  most  handsome  edifices.  He  also  intro 
duced  many  artisans  from  Germany.  By  his  marriage  with 
his  first  wife  Anna  Aldona  of  Lithuania,  he  had  only  a 
daughter.  He  therefore  convoked  a  diet  at  Cracow  on  the 
8th  May  1339,  in  which  he  proposed  as  his  successor  his 
nephew  Louis  of  Hungary,  the  son  of  his  sister.  This  waa 
to  concede  to  the  diet  a  very  important  privilege,  as  the 
throne  became  virtually  elective.  The  nobles  were  not  slow 
in  availing  themselves  of  the  concession  which  had  been 
made  to  them.  Before  they  allowed  Louis  to  succeed  they 
exacted  some  very  important  terms  from  him  which  became 
the  foundation  of  the  celebrated  pacta  conventa.  The  year 
after  the  appointment  of  a  successor  his  wife  died.  Accord- 
ing to  Kromer  she  was  passionately  fond  of  music,  and 
took  musicians  with  her  wherever  she  travelled.  The 
wars  of  Kazimierz  against  the  hereditary  enemies  of  the 
country,  the  Russians,  Lithuanians,  and  Mongols,  were 
successful.  His  private  life  was  stained  with  licentious 
ness,  but  his  reign  marks  a  distinct  epoch  in  the  political 
and  legislative  development  of  the  country.  With  him 
the  glory  of  Poland  begins,  and  he  is  well  worthy  of  the 
glowing  eulogy  of  the  national  historian  Dlugosz.  We 
cannot  wonder  also  that  the  Poles  dwell  with  pleasure  upon 
the  splendour  of  the  court  of  Kazimierz,  but  he  certainly 
squandered  the  royal  treasures  too  freely.  We  .are  told  that 
at  one  time  he  entertained  at  Cracow  the  emperor  of  Ger- 
many and  the  kings  of  Denmark,  Hungary,  and  Cyprus. 
His  death  was  occasioned  by  a  fall  from  his  horse  while 
hunting  near  Cracow  on  the  6th  November  1370,  and  with 
him  expired  the  line  of  the  Piasts.  Casimir  was  succeeded, 
as  had  been  arranged,  by  Louis  of  Hungary,  who  held  the 
crown  for  twelve  years  only,  and  of  that  period  spent  but 
a  short  time  in  the  country.  Louis  showed  too  great  a 
fondness  for  his  own  subjects ;  he  had  also  the  misfortune 
to  be  unacquainted  with  the  Polish  language.  After  his 
death  his  second  daughter  Jadwiga  was  elected  queen,  but 
she  was  to  accept  as  husband  any  prince  whom  the  diet 
might  propose  to  her.  Her  election  is  declared  by  Kromer 
to  have  been  due  to  the  eloquence  of  one  Jan  Tfnczyn  (a 
member  of  a  celebrated  Polish  family),  whose  speech,  oi 
an  imaginary  reproduction  of  it,  is  given  at  great  length 
in  very  classical  Latinity.  Jadwiga  is  said  to  have  been  a 
woman  of  great  beauty  and  worth.  As  a  matter  of  state 
policy  she  was  induced  to  marry  Jagielto,  the  prince  of 
Lithuania,  a  man  of  savage  manners ;  but  Lithuania  was 
thus  annexed  to  Poland,  with  which  it  remained  joined 
ever  afterwards, — a  more  complete  federation  having  taken 
place  at  Lublin  in  the  year  1569.  Jagiello  was  a  pagan, 
but  he  offered  to  renounce  his  creed  and  to  introduce  the 
Christian  faith  into  his  dominions ;  although  not  educated 
in  that  religion  he  was  born  of  a  Christian  mother,  and  its 


roL.xix 


POLAND 


25  UmgiBLa.  E-af  inann^h  30 


) 


d 


12S0-1447.] 


POLAND 


289 


doctrines  were  not  entirely  strange  to  Lira.  Tbe  prin- 
cipality of  Lithuania  at  that  time  stretched  from  the 
Baltic  to  the  Black  Sea,  and  eastwards  to  within  a  short 
distance  of  Moscow.  Its  religion  was  Greek  Church,  and 
its  official  language  White  Russian.  The  Lithuanian 
tongue,  so  interesting  to  the  philologist,  seems  never  to 
have  been  anything  more  than  a  peasants'  language,  and 
no  official  documents  whatever  have  come  down  to  us  in  it. 
This  was  not  the  first  marriage  between  the  sovereigns  of 
the  two  countries,  as  the  first  wife  of  Casimir  the  Great, 
Anna  Aldona,  had  been  a  daughter  of  Gedymin,  a  Lithu- 
anian prince.  Originally  Jadwiga  felt  a  repugnance  to  the 
marriage  with  Jagielto  on  account  of  the  coarse  and  repul- 
sive manners  of  the  barbarian,  and  also  because  she  had 
previously  plighted  herself  to  the  archduke  William  of 
Austria.  The  matter  was  referred  to  her  mother  Elizabeth 
of  Hungary,  who  expressed  herself  favourable  to  the 
marriage.  The  archduke,  however,  did  not  abandon  his 
hopes  without  a  struggle ;  he  made  his  appearance  with  a 
splendid  retinue  at  Cracow,  but  eventually  retired  on  finding 
that  the  prosecution  of  his  suit  would  lead  to  no  favourable 
result.  The  new  candidate  arrived  at  the  metropolis  after 
him,  and  Jadwiga  accepted  his  proposals.  In  1386  they 
were  married,  and  from  that  year  we  may  date  the  com- 
mencement of  the  dynasty  of  the  Jagieltos  in  Poland, 
which  lasted  for  nearly  two  centuries,  terminating  in 
1572, — indeed,  we  may  say  nearly  a  century  longer,  omit- 
ting the  short  and  brilliant  period  of  Batory  (1576-1586), 
for  Sigismund  III.  was  the  son  of  Catherine  daughter  of 
Sigismund  II.,  and  Wtadyslaw  IV  and  John  Casimir  were 
his  sons ;  after  the  death  of  the  latter  the  throne  became 
entirely  elective.  The  new  sovereign  was  baptized  by  ';he 
name  of  Wtadyslaw.  Having  been  converted  himself,  ho 
forced  his  subjects  to  be  converted  by  the  simple  process 
which  seems  to  have  prevailed  over  all  Slavonic  countries. 
Wtadystaw  is  said  to  have  assisted  in  these  pious  labours 
with  persuasion  as  well  as  command,  and  by  these  means 
Lithuania,  which  had  remained  heathen  longer  than  any 
other  part  of  Europe,  was  finally  Christianized.  We  are 
told,  however,  by  travellers  of  heathen  customs  remaining 
long  afterwards.  Although  owing  so  much  to  his  consort, 
the  king  seems  to  have  treated  her  with  jealousy  and 
suspicion.  On  his  impugning  her  chastity,  she  insisted  on 
Jaeing  confronted  with  her  calumniators.  The  investigation 
resulted  in  Jadwiga's  triumphant  acquittal ;  and  we  are  told 
by  Dlugosz  that  her  accu.scr  was  compelled  in  the  singular 
fashion  of  the  country  to  prostrate  him.self  under  a  table 
and  declare  that  he  had  lied  like  a  dog,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  imitate  the  barking  of  that  animal.  We  are 
further  informed  that  this  punishment  for  defamation 
continued  in  force  in  Poland  until  the  close  of  the  18th 
century.  The  nobles  wrested  scvetal  important  privileges 
from  Wtadyslaw ;  and  from  this  time  we  can  trace  step 
by  stop  the  rise  of  that  fierce  oligarchy  which  brought 
60  much  trouble  upon  the  unfortunate  kingdom.  They 
secured  for  themselves  exemption,  from  all  contributions 
when  called  to  serve  beyond  the  frontiens,  and  an  allow- 
ance of  five  marks  for  every  horseman  ;  thej'  also  procured 
the  exclusion  of  members  of  the  royal  family  from  all  the 
higher  offices  of  the  state,  reserving  these  for  themselves. 
In  the  reign  of  Wtadystaw  many  expeditions  were  under- 
taken against  those  inhabitants  of  Lithuania  who  preferred 
to  remain  pagans.  In  11 10  also  occurred  the  great  battle 
of  Griinwald  near  Tanncberg  in  Prussia,  in  which  the 
Teutonic  knights  were  completely  defeated  and  Ulrich  von 
Jungingen,  the  grand  master,  killed.  Wtadystaw  died  in 
1434,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  son  of  the  same  name. 
His  queen  Jadwiga  had  died  in  1399;  she  appears  to 
have  been  greatly  beloved  by  the  Poles,  and  was  canonized 
after  death, — miracles,  it  is  said,  being  wrought  at  her 


intercession.  The  consolidation  of  Lithuania  with  Polaud 
was  destined  to  be  a  much  more  tedious  and  protracted 
matter  than  its  somewhat  violent  union.  Great  as  may 
have  been  the  grief  of  Wtadystaw  at  the  death  of  Jad- 
wiga, it  did  not  prevent  him  from  contracting  three  subse- 
quent marriages, — the  third  wife  being  Sophia,  a  princess 
of  Kieff. 

The  younger  Wtadystaw  was  able  soon  after  his  acces- 
sion to  add  (by  election)  both  Bohemia  and  Hungary  to  his 
dominions.  He  then  commenced  an  expedition  against  the 
Turks,  who  under  their  sultan  Amurath  II.  were  pressing 
the  siege  of  Belgrade,  having  already  annihilated  the  ill- 
starred  Lazar  and  his  army  at  the  battle  of  Kossovo  in  1389. 
At  first  Wtadystaw  was  everywhere  successful,  and  had 
instilled  such  terror  into  the  Turks  that  Amurath  proposed 
a  truce  for  ten  years  and  offered  to  cede  all  his  conquests 
except  Bulgaria.  The  conditions,  having  been  accepted, 
were  ratified  by  mutual  pledges ;  unfortunately  Wtadystaw 
was  induced  by  Cardinal  Cesarini  to  recommence  the  war 
and  violate  his  oaths.  The  sultan  on  hearing  of  this 
perjury  at  once  prepared  for  battle  at  the  head  of  a  for- 
midable army.  The  encounter  took  place  at  Varna,  in  Battle  o> 
the  present  principality  of  Bulgaria.  After  performing  V.in.a. 
prodigies  of  valour,  Wtadystaw  was  defeated  and  slain.  ^^^^ 
Hardly  a  fifth  part  of  the  Polish  army  escaped  from  the 
battle,  and  of  these  many  perished  in  the  sv.-amps  of  the 
Dobrudja.  This  melancholy  engagement,  which  formed, 
as  the  Polish  chroniclers  tell  us,  the  subject  of  so  many 
lays — whereof  it  is  a  great  pity  that  none  have  come  down 
to  us — is  fully  described  by  Kromer  (p.  327-8),  who  adda 
many  omens  and  pious  reflexions.  He  dwells  with  delight 
upon  the  conspiracy  of  twelve  noble  captives,  who  W'ould 
have  murdered  Amurath  if  their  plot  had  not  been  re- 
vealed by  a  Bulgarian,  whereupon  they  committed  suicide: 
"  In  necem  ejus  conjurarunt,  peregissentqne  facinus  prse- 
clarum  et  omnibus  seculis  memorabile  nisi  in  ipso  articulo 
a  Bulgaro,  quem  unura  consilii  socium  adhibuerant,  proditi 
essent."  There  is  also  another  curious  account  in  the 
Memoirs  of  a  Janissari/,  an  early  Polish  work  which  will 
be  further  described  in  the  section  devoted  to  literature. 
The  memory  of  the  unhapi)y  young  prince,  who  was 
only  in  his  twenty-first  year,  was  long  cherished  amongst 
his  countrymen,  although,  as  Kromer  tolls  us,  during  his 
sliort  reign  he  almost  drained  the  treasury  and  was  so 
busied  with  the  Turkish  war  that  he  had  but  little  time  to 
attend  to  the  wants  of  his  Polish  subjects.  The  votaries 
of  Mohammed  were  now  beginning  to  make  themselves  a 
great  name  in  Europe,  and  were  already  marching  trium- 
phant over  the  ruins  of  the  effete  Eastern  empire.  Tho 
imperial  city  itself  was  soon  to  fall,  and  the  crescent  to  be 
placed  upon  the  domes  of  Saint  Sojihia. 

After  a  brief  interregnum  Kazimierz,  brother  of  the 
deceased  king,  was  chosen  to  succeed  him ;  he  had  previously 
been  grand-duke  of  Lithuania.  In  this  reign  tho  Polos 
carried  on  successful  wars  with  tho  Teutonic  knights, 
which  resulted  in  a  peace,  by  which  western  Prussia, 
including  Pomerania  and  the  cities  Dantzic,  Thorn,  and 
others,  were  to  belong  to  Kazimi<5rz,  while  eastern  Pru.ssia 
was  left  to  the  knights,  who  were,  however,  to  hold  it  as 
a  fief  of  tho  crown,  and  each  subsequent  grand  master 
was  to  be  tho  vassal  (Jtoidoivnik)  of  the  Polish  king  and 
senate.  Permanent  encroachments  were  made,  however, 
upon  the  dominions  of  tho  "  Republic  "  (lizeczpospoliia) 
by  Ivan  III.,  who  rcannexed  to  tho  Russian  crown  Novi 
gorod,  which  had  boon  incorporated  by  tho  Lithuanians ; 
ho  also  appropriated  a  considerable  portion  .of  White 
Russia.  Tho  great' Muscovite  empire  was  now  just  becom- 
ing welded  into  a  compact  whole;  with  Ivan  III.  was  to 
commence  the  era  of  consolidation,  with  Ivan  IV.  that  of 
absolutism.     In  this  reicn  tho  nobles  first  elected  nui.til 

XIX.  —  ■>■' 


290 


POLAND 


[history. 


or  deputies  {posl}/)  to  attend  at  the  diet,  wlieu  tney  them- 
selves were  unable  to  bo  present  in  person.  They  also 
passed  some  mischievous  laws,  aggravating  the  bondage  of 
the  miserable  serfs.  Previously  it  was  possible  for  a 
peasant  who  had  been  ill-treated  to  fly  from  his  lord ; 
how  it  was  enacted  that  he  must  be  surrendered  upon 
demand,  and  whoever  harboured  him  incurred  severe 
penalties.  ,  The  researches  of  recent  Polish  historiogra- 
jjhers  have  shown  the  importance  of  the  reign  of  this 
monarch,  who  may  be  said  to  have  consolidated  the  Polish 
kingdom ;  from  his  time  the  influence  of  the  diet  began. 
The  statute  of  Nieszawa  in  1454-  has  been  called  as  im- 
portant in  Polish  law  as  Magna  Charta  in  English  ;  it 
is  the  great  charter  of  the  rights  and  privileges  of  the 
Polish  nobility. 

Kazimi^rz  was  succeeded  by  his  son  John  I.,  surnamed 
Albert  (in  Polish,  Jan  Olbracht),  a  feeble  prince,  most  of 
whose  wars  were  unsuccessful.  He  led  an  expedition 
against  Stephen  the  hospodar  of  Wallachia,  which  resulted 
in  a  complete  defeat.  In  this  reign,  at  one  of  the  diets  (at 
Piotrkow  in  1496, — -for,  as  was  the  case  with  the  parlia- 
ments anciently  in  England,  they  were  held  at  various 
places),  the  nobles  decreed  that  henceforth  no  burgher  or 
peasant  should  aspire  to  any  of  the  higher  offices  in  the 
church  ;  all  such  appointments  they  reserved  to  themselves. 
Thus  they  constituted  their  clergy  a  mere  aristocratic 
caste,  and  imitated  the  prince  bishops  and  other  spiritual 
potentates  of  the  Germans.  The  peasantry  were  now  ob- 
liged to  bring  aU  their  cases  before  tribunals  presided  over 
by  their  own  masters,  where  they  were  likely  at  best  to  get 
but  a  scant  measure  of  justice.  Finally,  this  memorable 
diet  still  further  limited  the  power  of  the  king  by  enacting 
that  none  of  their  sovereigns  should  in  future  declare  war 
without  their  permission.  Short  as  was  the  reign  of  John 
Albert,  it  saw  him  involved  in  many  disputes  with  his 
nobility.  An  Italian  refugee,  Buonacorsi,  who  had  been 
his  tutor,  gave  him  many  suggestions  with  a  view  to  limit 
the  power  of  the  nobility.  About  the  same  time,  in  1497, 
some  nobles  were  killed  in  an  unfortunate  expedition  in 
Bukowina,  and  a  report  was  spread  that  this  disaster  had 
been  caused  by  the  king  himself  through  the  bad  counsels  of 
Buonacorsi.  In  this  reign  also  laws  were  passed  in  the  diets 
further  limiting  the  powerof  the  burghers  and  the  peasantry, 
who  were  now  forbidden  to  possess  any  landed  property. 
John  Albert  was  succeeded  by  his  brotlier  Alexander,  an 
utterly  insignificant  king ;  in  his  reign,  however,  we  trace 
the  first  germ  of  the  detestable  liberum  veto,  which  ruined 
Poland.  In  a  diet  held  at  Radom  it  was  settled  that  the 
decision  of  the  deputies  was  not  to  depend  upon  the 
majority,  but  must  imply  unanimity  of  sufTrages.  At  a 
diet  in  1652,  as  we  shall  afterwards  see,  it  occurred  for 
the  first  time  that  a  single  nuntius  annulled  by  his  liberum 
veto  the  decisions  of  the  whole  body  present  and  broke  up 
the  assembly.  By  this  absurd  custom  an  element  of 
confusion  and  disintegration  was  introduced  into  all  the 
meetings ;  it  was  possible  to  hire  a  venal  nuntius,  for  the 
majority  of  the  Polish  nobles  seem  to  have  had  their  price ; 
and  as  soon  as  such  a  man  appeared,  however  important 
the  subjects  to  be  debated  might  be,  he  could  put  an  end 
to  all  further  discussion.  The  lord  high  treasurer  had  the 
complete  control  of  public  finance ;  he  was  appointed  by 
the  king,  but  could  not  be  removed.  According  to  the 
strict  letter  of  the  constitution,  he  must  give  in  his  accounts 
to  the  diet,  but  he  might  easily  evade  doing  so.  As  the 
diets  only  lasted  six  weeks  he  might  bring  them  in  too 
late,  or  if  the  scrutiny  became  somewhat  tiresome  he  would 
probably  be  able  to  find  a  convenient  nuntius  who  would 
veto  the  whole  proceedings. ^  .The  story  told  by  Connor  of 
a  certain  Count  Morsztyn,  whom  we  shall  find  afterwards 

'  See  Letters  concerning  the  Present  Slate  of  Poland,  1773,  p^7i> 


mentioned  among  Polish  authors,  is  certainly  a  very  pain- 
ful one.  He  says — "  I  may  here  give  an  account  of  a 
passage  that  happened  when  Count  Morsztyn  was  great 
treasurer  of  Poland,  who,  having  more  regard  to  his  own 
private  interest  than  the  public  benefit,  sent  all  the  rich* 
of  the  treasury  into  France,  when,  fearing  that  the  diet 
would  soon  think  fit  to  call  him  to  account,  he  retired 
privately  with  all  his  effects  out  of  the  kingdom  and  went 
to  settle  in  France,  where  he  purchased  the  whole  county 
of  Chateau-Villain,  which  is  worth  above  one  hundred 
thousand  livres  a  year."  Such  was  the  corrupt  character 
of  the  Polish  parliament.  Other  details  are  given  of  an 
equally  painful  description.^  "We  are  told  that  these 
meetings  rarely  happened  without  bloodshed.  A  serious 
fracas  occurred  among  the  turbulent  nobles — who  them- 
selves, while  dictating  laws,  embodied  every  principle  of 
anarchy — when  Sigismund  III.  was  elected.  Blood  flowed 
in  torrents,  and  the  booths  erected  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  senators  were  burnt.  At  the  election  of  King 
Michael  balls  from  pistols  flew  about  the  tents  of  the 
senators,  and  nuntii  were  actually  killed.  Even  worse 
scenes  occurred  at  the  election  of  Augustus  II.,  as  will 
be  shown  subsequently.  In  the  reign  of  Alexander  we 
find  an  instance  where  a  few  deputies  from  the  towns 
were  admitted,  but  their  presence  was  only  invited  on  rar-o 
occasions,  reminding  us  how  Ivan  IV.  now  and  then 
summoned  the  Russian  citizens  to  his  despotic  doumq. 
"  He  was  of  a  middle  stature,"  says  Connor,  "  had 
a  long  visage  and  black  hair,  was  very  strong  built  but 
exceeding  dull-witted,  and  consequently  but  a  little  talker. 
He  exceeded  all  his  brothers  in  generosity,  and  was  wont 
to  delight  much  in  musicians  and  such  trifling  artists. 
Nevertheless,  this  his  liberality  was  generally  esteemed 
but  prodigality,  insomuch -that  some  were  so  bold  as  to  say 
that  he  died  in  time,  or  else  both  Poland  and  Lithuania 
might  have  been  lavished  away.  To  prevent  the  like 
pernicious  generosity  for  the  fixture,  the  diet  made  a  law, 
calling  it  Statutum  Alexandrmiim,  by  which  they  revoked 
all  this  king's  profuse  gifts."  In  the  reigmof  this  sovereign 
the  former  statutes  of  Wislica,  Warta,  Nieszawa,  and 
many  others  were  confirmed  and  published  in  a  single 
volume  under  the  superintendence  of  the  chancellor 
Laski.  The  feeble  Alexander  was  succeeded  by  his 
brother  Sigismund  (in  Polish,  Zygraunt),  another  son  of 
Kazimierz.  Sigismund  was  engaged  in  constant  wars  with 
Basil,  the  czar  of  Russia ;  his  court  was  also  filled  with 
factions  fomented  by  his  wife  Bona  Sforza,  the  daughter 
of  the  duke  of  Milan,  a  woman  thoroughly  hated  in  her 
adopted  country,  on  whom  the  Poles  made  the  following 
epigram — 

Si  pavcuiit  Parcae,  si  luci  luraine  lucent, 
Si  bellum  bellura,  turn  bona  Bona  fuit. 

When  she  left  the  country  in  the  reign  of  her  son 
Sigismund  II.,  she  carried  large  sums  of  money  with  her 
to  Italy. 

In  this  reign  the  order  of  Teutonic  Knights  embracivd 
the  doctrines  of  Luther ;  their  dominions  were  already  a 
fief  of  the  Polish  kingdom.  Gradually  this  smaU  pria- 
cipality  was  to  absorb  the  Slavonic  elements  which  sur^ 
rounded  it,  and  to  rise  triumphant  over  the  ruins  of 
Poland.  The  doctrines  of  the  Reformation  were  nowr 
becoming  widely  spread  over  Europe,  and  the  element  of 
religious  animosity  was  largely  infused  into  this  land  of 
perpetual  anarchy  and  tumults.  Sigismund,  however,  vas 
a  man  of  remarkable  ability,  and  under  his  rule  the  country 
flourished.  He  survived  to  the  age  of  eighty-two,  and 
his  memory  is  still  cherished  with  affection  by  the  Po'«s. 
His  broad  heavy  physiognomy  may  be  seen  accurately 
represented  in  the  old  editions  of  Kromer,  who  dwells 
,  =  Ibid..  V-  27.' 


^ 


SIgismW 
I.  (I5if  11 
48).       ^1 


1U8-1572.] 


POLAND 


291 


much  upon  his  merits.  In  1538  occurred  the  first  roiosz, 
as  it  is  termed  in  Polish,  or  rebellion  of  the  nobility 
against  the  king.  The  affairs  of  Wallachia  caused  Sigis- 
inund  to  undertake  a  military  expedition.  Accordingly  he 
appealed  to  the  rzeczpospolita,  or  commonwealth,  as  the 
I'olish  republic  was  called.  One  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  nobles  assembled  at  Lemberg,  but  instead  of 
marching  to  the  war  they  laid  their  complaints  before  the 
king  and  refused  to  serve,  and  the  old  man  was  obliged 
to  put  them  off  with  promises.  The  Lithuanians  had  not 
vet  become  reconciled  to  their  union  with  Poland,  even 
after  so  long  a  time,  and  one  of  thc-r  chief  men,  Glinski, 
taking  advantage  of  this  feeling,  attempted  to  restore  its 
former  independence  to  the  country.  Sigismund,  however, 
succeeded  in  defeating  Glinski,  who  fled  to  Russia.  He 
then  persuaded  the  grand-duke  to  invade  Lithuania,  and 
assisted  him  in  getting  possession  of  Smolensk  in  1514. 
Sigismund  made  a  treaty  with  the  grand-duke,  but  he  did 
not  succeed  in  getting  back  Smolensk.  In  1526,  by  the 
death  of  the  last  of  the  dukes  of  Masowszie  (Masovia),  this 
duchy  was  i^united  to  the  crown  of  Poland.  In  1533 
Sigismund  concluded  a  treaty  with  the  Turks,  then  at  the 
height  of  their  power.  This  peace  guaranteed  to  Poland 
the  free  navigation  of  the  Black  Sea,  with  the  sovereignty  of 
Moldavia,  and  prevented  the  irruption  of  the  Mongols  into 
PocJolia,  where  they  were  in  the  habit  of  committing  great 
excesses,  as  the  Little-Russian  national  ballads  pathetically 
tell  us.  The  reign  of  Sigismund  -was  a  period  of  great 
peace  for  Poland,  and  we  may  truly  say  that  its  glory  at 
this  time  culminated.  It  seems  a  rule  that  the  great 
men  of  a  country  are  produced  at  periods  of  national  pro- 
sperity, so  we  now  find  Copernicus  flourishing,  the  one 
man  of  genius  produced  by  Poland  whose  glory  has  re- 
.  sounded  throughout  the  world.  In  1529  Sigismund  pub- 
lished his  code  of  laws  for  Lithuania,  which  was  issued  in 
the  White-Russian  language,  and  forms  one'  of  the  most 
important  monuments  of  Polish  law. 

He  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Sigismund  IL  (1548-72), 
otherwise  called  Sigismund  Augustus,  but  this  prince 
was  not  elected  till  a  very  stormy  debate  had  ensued 
as  to  whether  he  should  repudiate  his  wife  or  not.  He 
had  iflarried,  as  a  widower  (his  first  wife  having  been 
Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Ferdinand  of  Austria),  a  fair  widow 
of  the  house  of  RadziwitI  one  of  the  most  illustrious  of  the 
families  of  Lithuania.  The  nobles,  however,  who  already 
treated  their  sovereign  as  a  chief  magistrate  and  nothing 
more,  and  had  begun  to  control  all  his  movements, 
required  at  the  diet  of  Piotrkow  that  the  marriage  should 
be  annulled,  merely  on  the  grounds  that  the  country  would 
gain  more  by  his  alliance  with  the  daughter  of  a  foreign 
potentate.  But  Sigismund,  by  sowing  discord  in  the 
ranks  of  his  opponents — proposing  among  other  things  to 
destroy  pluralities  in  church  and  state — contrived  to  carry 
his  point.  His  wife  was  crowned  in  1550,  but  died 
within  si.x  months  after,  not  without  suspicions  of  having 
been  poisoned  by  her  mother-in-law.  She  is  said  to  have 
made  herself  universally  beloved  during  the  short  period 
in  which  the  Poles  had  beheld  her  as  queen.  In  three 
years'  time  Sigismund  married  a  third  wife,  the  sister  of 
the  first,  and  widow  of  Francis  Gonzaga,  duke  of  Mantua. 
During  this  reign  the  quarrels  between  Protestants  and 
Romanists  raged  fiercely  in  Poland,  and  the  latter  were 
very  severe  in  their  'persecutions.  A  priest  was  burnt  to 
death  for  administering  the  sacrament  in  both  kinds,  and 
a  lady  suffered  the  same  terrible  fate  for  denying  the  real 
presence.  Many  of  the  nobles  were  infected  with  the  new 
teaching,  but  Sigismund  was  disingenuous  and  inconsist- 
ent in  his  conduct.  He  is  himself  supposed  to  have  been 
inclined  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Reformation  ;  ho  certainly 
permitted  Calvin  to  dedicate  to  him  a  commentary  on 


one  of  the  epistles  of  Paul,  and  Luther  an  edition  of  his 
German  Bibfe.  Finally,  realizing  that  the  majority  of  his 
subjects  were  Catholics,  he  abandoned  e  faith  to  which 
he  had  perhaps  given  but  a  half-hearted  adherence,  and 
allowed  the  bishops  to  suppress  with  severity  all  promulga- 
tion of  the  new  doctrines. 

The  religious  question  was  keenly  debated  in  a  diet  held 
at  Wola  near  Warsaw  the  year  after  the  death  ot  Sigis- 
mund. It  was  resolved  not  to  allow  the  sword  to  settle 
any  religious  differences.  According  to  the  language 
then  used  there  was  to  be  universal  toleration.  We  shall 
soon  see  how  little  this  was  carried  out.  We  find  from 
it  that  the  Polish  peers  were  supposed  to  be  masters  of  the 
spiritual  as  well  as  the  material  condition  of  their  serfs,  for 
it  was  expressly  stated  that  their  power  over  them  was  to 
be  unlimited,  "  tam  in  s«cularibus  quam  in  spiritualibus." 

In  his  wars  with  Ivan  the  Terrible,  in  which  the  subject 
of  quarrel  was  the  Baltic  provinces,  Sigismund  was  not  very 
fortunate ;  he  was  not  able  to  prevent  the  Russians  from 
acquiring  the  palatinate  of  Polotsk,  nor  could  ho  sub- 
sequently hinder  the  Swedes  from  making  themselves 
masters  of  Livonia.  He  died  in  1572,  leaving  no  issue 
by  his  three  wives  ;  and  with  him  became  extinct  the  race 
of  the  Jagiellos,  the  second  great  family  which  had  ruled 
over  Poland.  His  reign  was  very  favourable  to  the  develop- 
ment of  PoUsh  literature.  Then,  too,  the  laws  were  first 
authoritatively  promulgated  in  the  native  language,  which 
was  spoken  at  court,  although  Latin  continued  to  be  ex- 
tensively employed.  During  the  reign  of  Sigismund 
Augustus,  Poland  reached  the  height  of  outward  prosperity. 
It  included  Lithuania  and  western  Prussia,  and  by  the  ad- 
dition of  Masovia  and  Livonia  extended  its  limits  from  the 
Baltic  to  the  Black  Sea,  and  almost  from  the  Oder  to  the 
Don.  The  seeds  of  disintegration,  however,  had  long  been 
sown  ;  since  the  marriage  of  Jadwiga  with  Wtadystaw 
Jagiello  the  crown  of  Poland  had  been  more  or  less  elective, 
although  it  continued  in  the  same  family.  One  important 
event  which  marked  this  reign  must  not  be  forgotten  ;  in  Diet  of 
1569  took  place  the  celebrated  diet  of  Lublin.  By  this  a  Lubh; 
close  union  was  effected  between  Poland  and  lathuania, 
which  up  to  this  time  had  been  ill  united,  and  indeed  there 
were  continual  jealousies  breaking  out  during  the  exist- 
ence of  Poland  as  a  nation — two  great  points  being  the 
difference  of  religion  and  language.  Even  the  union  of 
Lublin  was  not  effected  without  considerable  resistance. 
Tho  following  were  its  condition's  : — Lithuania  gives  Pod- 
lasie  to  Poland  ;  Livonia,  under  the  title  of  duchy,  belongs 
equally  to  the  two  states;  Volhynia  and  the  duchy  of 
Kieff — that  is  to  say,  the  Ukraine — are  incorporated  with 
Poland  ;  the  kingdom  of  Poland  and  tho  grand-duchy  of 
Lithuania  are  to  form  a  single  indivisible  republic,  and 
are  to  have  a  single  head,  elected  by  their  common  votes; 
tho  senate  is  to  bo  composed  of  nobles  of  both  nationali- 
ties. Warsaw  was  fixed  upon  as  tho  seat  of  tho  diet, 
since,  being  part  of  Masovia  (Masow.sze),  it  wns,  strictly 
speaking,  neither  Polish  nor  Lithuanian.  It  afterwords 
became  the  regular  capital  of  the  country  in  tlie  reign 
of  Sigismund  HI. ;  as  we  have  seen,  the  first  two  capitals 
of  Poland  were  Gniezno  (Gnesen)  and  Cracow.  Warsaw 
is  of  comparatively  late  origin.  It  is  said  to  have  been 
founded  by  Conra<l,  tho  duke  of  Masovia,  in  1269.  The 
old  dukes  of  Masovia  resided  at  Czersk  near  Warsaw, 
of  which  some  of  tho  ruins  might  bo  seen  one  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ngo  (C.  H.  Emdtcl,  Warsaxna  p/iynice  UluMrata, 
Dresden,  1730).  Tlio  city  is  most  advantageously  situated, 
and  with  a  bettor  railway  system  and  fewer  fiscal  restric- 
tions would  bo  one  of  the  greatest  emporiums  in  Europe. 
An  intcrrefT'Um  now  occurred  on  the  failure  of  the  line  of 
tho  Jagiellos,  and  the  throne  was  publicly  offered  for 
competition.     Four  candidates  appeared  : — Ernest,  arch- 


292 


POLAND 


duke  of  Austria  ;  Henry  of  Valois,  duke  of  Anjou,  Tarother 
of  the  French  king  ;  a  Swedish  prince ;  and  finally  Ivan  the 
Terrible   of    Russia.     The    contest,    hosvever,    really    lay 
between  the  first  two ,  the  Swedish  alliance  was  despised 
as  likely  to  bring  with  it  no  soli,d  advantage ;  the  czar  .was 
hated  both  as  coming  from  a  race  which  had  ever  been 
Tto.stile  to  Poland,  and  also  on  account  of  his  detestable 
cruelties,  which  were  well  known  throughout  Europe.     The 
political  importance  of  France  and  the  astute  diplomacy  of 
Montluc,  the  ambassador  from  that  country,  caused  the 
decision  to  be  given  in  favour  of  the  French  candidate. 
But,  just  as  his  name  was  brought  iorward  as  their  prob- 
able king,-  the  Poles,  many  of  whom,  we  must  remember, 
had  embraced  the  Reformed  doctrines,  were  startled  by  the 
news  of   the  massacre  of   St   Bartholomew  (August  24, 
1572),     From   the  awkward  dUemma  in   which  he   was 
placed  by  his  complicity  in  this  act,  Henry  endeavoured 
to  escape  by  a  falsehood, — impudently  denying  at  first  that 
anything  of  the  sort  had  happened.     Finding,  however, 
but  little  credence  given  to  his  assertions,  he  attempted  to 
explain  away  the  affair  and  to  lower  the  number 'of  its 
victims,   which  he   reduced   to  fifty,  alleging  that  they 
had  been  really  executed  for  a  conspiracy.     The  Polish 
ambassadors  duly  made  their  appearance  in  Paris,  show- 
ing their  gay  equipages,  quaint  and  semi-Asiatic;  their 
bows  and  arrows  and  shaven  crowns  with  a  single   tuft 
of  hair  greatly  amused  the  inquisitive  French.      Loose 
flowing   robes,    high   boots,  and   a   sword   resembling   a 
scimitar  completed  the  tout   ensemble  of   a  Polish  noble- 
man, i 

Readers  of  French  history  must  be  well  acquainted  with 
the  character  of  this  duke  of  Anjou,  one  of  the  most  de- 
testable of  the  house  of  Valois,  who  afterwards  became 
king  of  France  under  the  title  of  Henry  III.  The  articles, 
some  of  which  the  Polish  nobles  required  Henry  to  sign, 
'acta  called  the  pacta  conventa  so  well  illustrate  the  extiaordi- 
oDvcuta.  nary  influence  of  the  aristocracy,  and  the  shadow  to  which 
they  had  reduced  the  regal  authority,  that  they  are  worth 
quoting  in  extenso.  From  this  time  every  Polish  king  was 
compelled  to  accept  them,  together  with  the  additions  sub- 
sequently made. 

(1)  The  king  was  to  have  no  voice  in  the  election  of  his  suc- 
cessor ;  the  appointment  was  to  depend  entirely  upon  the  nobles.* 
(2)  He  was  to  keep  rigidly  the  terms  of  the  treaty  made  with 
the  Dissidents,  as  the  Polish  Protestants  were  called.  (3)  No 
war  was  to  be  declared  nor  military  expedition  undertaken  without 
the  consent  of  the  diet.  (4)  Ko  taxes  were  to  be  imposed  without  the 
consent  of  the  diet.  (5)  The  king  was  not  to  appoint  ambassadors 
to  foreign  courts.  (6)  If  different  opinions  prevailed  among  the 
members  of  the  diet,  the  king  was  to  adopt  only  such  as  were  in 
accordance  with  the  laws  or  advantageous  to  the  nation.  (7)  The 
sovereign  must  have  a  permanent  council,  consisting  of  five  bishops, 
four  palatines,  and  eight  castellans,  who  were  to  be  changed  every 
year  and  elected  by  the  diet.  (8)  A  general  diet  was  to  be  convoked 
every  two  years,  or  ofteuer,  if  there  were  any  need.  The  assembling 
of  these  diets  seems  to  have  depended  upon  the  will  of  the  kitig. 
(9)  The  duration  of  each  diet  was  not  to  exceed  six  weeks.'  (10) 
None  but  a  native  could  hold  any  dignity  or  benefice.  (11)  The 
king  must  ueither  marry  nor  divorce  a  wife  without  the  consent  of 
Jhe  diet. 

Thus  the  regal  shadow  who  was  to  sit  upon  the  throne  of 
Poland  was  able  to  interfere  but  little  in  questions  either 

'  '  The  Poles  regarded  the  national  dress  with  peculiar  fondness,  and 
Coxe  tells  us  that  they  were  somewhat  indignant  with  their  la-st  king, 
Stanislaus  (StauisJaw  August  Poniatowski,  1764-95),  because  he 
always  appeared  with  flowing  hair  and  adopted  a  French  style  of  dress. 
They  even  meditated  introducing  a  new  clause  into  the  pacta  conventa, 
J-equiring  that  every  king  of  Poland  must  wear  the  Polish  dress. 

^  We^hall  find,  however,  this  rule  sometimes  infringed,  and  instances 
'occur  in  which  the  opinion  of  a  sovereign  affected  the  next  nominee. 
{Thus  the  malicious  -n-ife  of  Sobieski  was  able  to  exclude  her  son  James 
Irora  the  succession,  to  whicli  the  national  voice  had  almost  called  him. 

'  We  shall  afterward.^  see  that  this  mischievous  law  was  fruitful  of 
fevil  consequences  to  tlie  country,  as  frequently- debates  upon  the  most 
important  questions  would  he  brought  to  an  end  by  the  interference  of 
Sine  of  the  nuutii  declaring  that  the  legitimate  six  weeks  had  elapsed. 


lHistoey, 

of  peace  or  war.  The  latter,  we  have  seen,  he  could  not 
declare ;  and,  as  each  of  the  palatines  held  nearly  supreme 
power  in  his  own  territories,  the  king  could  interfere  in 
little  relating  to  the  former.  A  vexatious  control  was  ex- 
ercised even  over  his  private  relations ;  his  wife  could  not 
be  of  his  own  choosing,  and,  however  odious  she  might 
become  to  him,  she  must  remain  attached  as  a  state  ap- 
pendage till  his  nobles  consented  to  release  him.  Not 
that  Henry  was  likely  to  trouble  himself  with  any  scruples 
on  the  score  of  marriage.  He  arranged  all  those  matters 
very  easily.  What  was  left  for  the  Polish  king  was  chiefly 
to  eat  and  drink  at  the  expense  of  his  subjects,  and  to 
form  a  glittering  addition  to  their  costly  and  semi-barbar- 
ous pageants.  Still  his  revenue  was  ample,  and  when  he 
commanded  the  army  in  the  field  his  power  was  unchecked ; 
he  had  also  the  nomination  to  the  highest  ecclesiastical 
and  military  appointments. 

Even  before  the  severe  terms  of  the  pacta  conventa  had 
been  presented  to  Henry,  Montluc  had  agreed  to  all,  but 
probably  felt  convinced  that  his  sovereign  would  carry  out 
no  more  of  them  than  he  could  possibly  help.     He  even 
promised  that  France  should  send  a  fleet  into  the  Baltic, 
so  that  its  dominion  might  be  secured  to  t"he  Poles,  and 
that  in  the  event  of  a  war  with  Russia  she  should  supply 
four  thousand  of  her   best  troops,   and  herself  pay  their 
expenses;  in  all  cases  of  war  she  was  to  aid  Poland  with 
money.     Henry  was  to  spend  a  large  portion  of  the  rents 
which  he  drew  from  his  estates  in  France  for  the  benefit 
of  his   adopted  country ;    he  was  also  to  pay  the  crown 
debts,  and   to   educate  one  hundred  young  Polish  nobles 
either  at  Pans  or  Cracow.     Probably  no  sovereign  in  the 
world  ever  signed  such  galling  stipulations.     Henry,  how- 
ever, had  no   intention   of   observing  them,   and  had  so 
little  relish  for  his  new  kingdom  that  he  did  not  set  out 
till  he  had  almost  been  driven  from  France  by  his  brother, 
and  the  Polish  nobles  already  talked  of  a  new  election. 
He  proceeded  on  his  way  slowly,  with  all  the  dignity  of  a 
royal  progress,  but  did  not  escape  the  gibes  of  the  German 
princes  through  whose  dominions  he  passed,  for  his  con- 
nexion with  the  massacre  of  St  Bartholomew.     He   was 
feasted   at^  Heidelberg   opposite   a   large   picture    which 
delineated  the  tragedy  in  all  its  horrors,  and  attendants  ■ 
were  allotted  him  selected  from  French  Huguenot  refugees. 
He  was  crowned  at   Cracow  in  February  1574,  but   soon 
began  to  repent  of  his  choice.     The  effeminate  king  re- 
lished but  little  the  throne  he  ha:d  chosen  among  a  war. 
like  and  turbvdent -people,  where  he  seemed  to  enjoy  but 
the  shadow  of  sovereignty— a  people  also  in  every  way 
inferior  in  civilization  to  the  agreeable  Parisians  he  had  left 
behind.     He  felt  himself  a  mere  puppet  in  their  hands,  and, 
burying  himself  in  the  recesses  of  his  palace,  led  a  life  of 
dissipation.     But  release  was  at  hand  in   an  unexpected 
way ;  he  was  destined  to  be  king  of  Poland  for  five  months 
only.     By  the  death  of  his  brother  Charles  IX.  he  became 
heir  to  the  French  crown.     This  delightful  piece  of  news 
he  attempted  at  first  to  conceal,  and  to  escape  before  it 
could  get  noised  abroad  in  Poland,  principally  to  avoid 
the  ambitious  designs  of  his  brother,  the  duke  of  Alencon  ; 
but  unfortunately  the  report  oozed  out.     He  refused  to 
follow  the  counsel  of  his  advisers  that  he  should  convoke  a 
general  diet  to  see  what  measures  should  be  taken.     On 
the  evening  of  the  ISth  July  he  gave  a  grand  entertain- 
ment in  honour  of  the  sister  of  the  late  king  Sigismund, 
The  conviviality  was  great ;  and  never  had  Henry  assumed 
a  more  pleasing  manner  or  seemed  more  genially  to  identify 
himself  with  his  new  subjects.     At  the  usual  hour,  to  all 
appearance,  he  retired  to   his  aiiartment  and  the  lighls 
were  extinguished  ;  but  already  the  king  had  flown.'     He 
was  led   by  an  attendant   through  secret  passages  to  a 
chapel  in  the  suburbs  of  the  city,  as  some  say — but  accord- 


1573-1586.] 


P  O   L  A  JN   0 


293 


Jug  to  a  more  probable  account  to  the  royal  stables,  where 
a  rendezvous  had  been  appointed.  Here  horses  had  been 
prepared ;  and  with  a  few  chosen  attendants  he  rode  pre- 
cipitately from  his  kingdom,  reaching  the  frontiers  of  Silesia 
early  on  the  following  day.  Great  was  the  consternation 
in  Cracow  when  it  was  known  that  he  had  fled,  and  hot 
the  pursuit  of  the  authorities.  The  probability  of  the  king's 
flight,  gathered  perhaps  from  his  ill-concealed  uneasiness, 
had  caused  it  to  be  suspected  before  it  was  known  as  an 
actual  fact.  The  grand  chamberlain,  anxious  to  calm  the 
universal  excitement,  returned  to  the  palace  to  which  by 
virtue  of  his  office  he  had  general  access.  At  first  he 
knocked  at  the  king's  door,  but  no  answer  was  forthcom- 
ing; he  then  tried  the  chambers  of  the  gentlemenin- 
waiting ;  there  equally  he  found  a  dead  silence.  Again, 
he  returned  to  the  king's  bedroom,  and,  not  being  able  to 
force  the  door,  entered  by  the  window — for  even  in  matters 
of  etiquette  they  seem  in  Poland  to  have  treated  their 
kings  somewhat  roughly.  The  candles  were  burning  as 
usual  in  the  room  ;  the  two  pages  were  near  the  bed  ;  the 
curtains  of  the  bed  were  drawn,  but  there  was  no  Henry 
to  be  found.  The  grand  chamberlain,  amazed,  rushed  in 
pursuit,  attended  by  five  hundred  cavaliers.  Probably  such 
a  ludicrous  sight  had  never  been  seen  before  as  a  monarch 
flying  from  his  kingdom  and  subjects  without  being  driven 
out  by  them.  Owing  to  his  ignorance  of  the  route  the 
horsemen  were  soon  on  his  track,  and  many  of  his  com- 
panions, to  save  themselves,  deserted  him.  One  of  them 
named  Pibrac  hid  himself  in  a  bog,  and  was  even  obliged 
to  make  several  dives  to  escape  the  infuriated  peasants, 
who  pelted  him  with  stones,  unconscious  of  what  he  had 
done,  but  satisfied,  from  his  efforts  at  concealment,  that  he 
must  be  flying  from  justice.  In  vain  did  Henry  cause  the 
bridges  to  be  broken  down  behind  him;  the  Slavs  on  his 
track  forded  the  rivers  on  horseback,  and  the  king  was  at 
last  overtaken  on  the  very  boundaries  of  the  German  em- 
pire. There  T§nczyn,  the  grand  chamberlain,  and  five 
horsemen  came  up  with  the  fugitives  and  shouted  after  the 
king,  "Sorenissima  Majestas,  cur  fugis?"  Finding  that 
he  was  quite  safe,  Henry  admitted  T§nczyn  to  an  audience, 
■who  remonstrated  with  him  on  account  of  the  manner  in 
which  he  was  leaving  th«  kingdom,  and  recommended  him 
to  return  and  convoke  a  diet  so  that  with  the  consent  of 
his  subjects  he  might  take  possession  of  his  new  kingdom. 
But  he  refused  to  be  influenced  by  their  entreaties,  and 
merely  promised  in  a  vague  manner  that  he  would  return 
as  soon  as  he  had  placed  France  in  a  state  of  tranquillity — 
a  promise  which,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  he  had  no  inten- 
tion whatever  of  carrying  out.  Nor  did  the  king  show  any 
special  alacrity  in  repairing  to  France,  for  before  reaching 
that  country  he  lingered  a  considerable  time  at  Vienna  and 
Venice,  trifling  with  the  highest  interests  of  his  country, 
and  devoted  only  to  frivolous  amusement.  The  Poles,  how- 
ever, were  well  rid  of  one  of  the  most  corrupt  sovereigns  of 
a  corrupt  house.  In  1589  the  knife  of  the  Dominican  friar 
terminated  his  life,  and  with  it  the  line  of  the  Valois. 

The  Poles,  piqued  at  the  contempt  with  which  their 
crown  had  been  treated,  assembled  at  St^zyca  and  resolved 
to  declare  the  throne  vacant  if  the  king  did  not  return  by 
the  12tb^May  1575.  During  the  interregnum  the  Mon- 
gols mad'e  incursions  into  Podolia  and  Volhynia,  ond  griev- 
ously devastated  those  countries.  The  appointed  period 
having  elapsed,  Stephen  Batory,  prince  of  Transylvania, 
was  elected,  having  previously  stipulated  to  marry  the 
princess  Anne,  sister  of  Sigismund  Augustus.  There  were 
some  difficulties,  however,  before  ho  succeeded  in  obtaining 
the  royal  authority.  The  primate  Ucharski  nominated 
the  emperor  Maximilian  king.  This  caused  considerable 
opposition,  and  the  city  of  Dantzio  did  not  recognize  the 
new  sovereign  till  compelled.     To  onnciliBte  the  nobility 


Batory  was  obliged  to  consent  to  some  serious  diminutions 
of  the  royal  prerogative.  This  king  was  a  great  soldier, 
successful  against  both  Prussians  and  Russians,  the  latter 
of  whom  he  compelled,  in  1582,  to  evacuate  Livonia, 
which  was  thus  again  annexed  to  Poland.  He  also 
did  much  to  encourage  letters,  having  founded  the 
university  of  Vilna,  which  has,  however,  been  suppressed 
in  more  recent  times.  His  great  fondness  for  the  Latin 
language  is  said  by  Schafarik  to  have  had  a  bad  effect 
upon  Polish ;  for  from  this  time  may  be  dated  the  classical 
words  and  idioms  which '  have  been  thrust  upon  the 
language,  and  have  disfigured  Polish  more  than  her  Slavonic 
sisters.  It  was  Stephen  Batory  who  first  organized  the 
regiments  of  Cossacks  who  play  such. an  important  part  in 
Polish  history.  Before  his  death,  foreseeing  the  constant 
anarchy  which  the  system  of  elective  sovereignty  would 
cause,  he  in  vain  urged  the  nobility  to  make  the  crown 
hereditary.  Sarnicki,  •  the  Polish  historian,  says  of  him — 
"  Fuit  vir  tam  in  pace  quara  in  bello  excelso  et  forti 
animo,  judicii  magni,  przesertim  ubi  ab  affectibus  liber 
erat ;  in  victu  et  amictu  parens,  et  omni  jactantia  et 
ostentatione  alienus,  eruditione  insigniter  tinctus,  sermonis 
Latini  valde  studiosus  et  prorfeus  Terentianus."  It  would 
naturally  be  concluded  that  before  the  election  of  Batory 
the  royal  power  had  been  sufficiently  curtailed,  but  it  was 
to  undergo  further  mutilations.  Sixteen  senators  were 
now  chosen  at  each  diet  to  attend  the  king  and  give  their 
opinion  in  important  matters,  and  no  decree  could  be 
issued  without  their  consent.  Besides  this,  in  1578  the 
right  of  final  appeal  to  the  king,  which  had  always  been  a 
royal  prerogative,  was  taken  away.  The  king  could  now 
only  give  the  ultimate  decision  in  a  small  district  within  a 
certain  radius  of  his  residence.  The  courts  exercising 
judgments  within  these  narrow  limits  were  called  Assessoria 
Regni,  and  even  these  judicial  powers,  slight  as  they  were, 
were  gradually  abandoned  after  the  time  of  Augustus  II., 
and  were  exercised  by  the  high  chancellor  of  the  realm. 
The  king  was  supposed  to  have  some  control  of  the  courts 
which  were  governed  by  the  Jus  Magdeburgicum  ;  but, 
Batory  being  busy  with  foreign  wars,  those  were  generally 
managed  by  the  chancellor  also.  The  palatines  had  the 
right  of  electing  their  own  judges  in  their  dietines  or 
potty  diets,  who  formed  supreme  courts  of  justice  called 
2'ribunalia  Regni ;  here  the  causes  of  the  nobles,  for  tlio 
peasants  had  no  voice  in  the  matter,  were  decided  finally 
and  without  option  of  any  appeal. 

On  the  death  of  Batory  in  15S6,  after  many  quarrels 
among  the  leading  families,  the  throne  was  again  brought 
into  the  market.  The  candidates  were,  among  others,  the 
archduke  Maximilian  of  Austria ;  Feodore  Ivanovich,  the 
feeble  Russian  czar ;  and  Sigismund,  a  Swedish  prince, 
son  of  Catherine,  sister  of  Sigismund  Augustus.  The  last 
of  the  three  was  finally  elected,  although  not  without  con- 
siderable opposition  from  Maximilian,  who  was  only  driven 
from  his  candidature  by  main  force.  The  Zborowskis,  a 
very  powerful  family  always  in  opposition  to  Znmoiski,  the 
chancellor  of  the  kingdom,  invited  him.  But  /amoiski 
defeated  him  at  Byczyna  in  Silesia,  and  ho  wa.s  there 
made  prisoner,  and  was  only  released  on  the  promise  of 
desisting  from  being  a  candidate.  The  Ausirians,  how- 
ever, were  always  interfering  in  the  affairs  of  Poland,  and, 
if  they  could  not  jirocuro  the  admission  of  any  of  their 
family  to  the  headship  of  the  republic,  wo  shall  observe 
that  during  four  generations  the  house  of  Hapsburg 
furnished  queens  to  Poland.  A  very  serious  riot  occurred' 
at  the  election  on  this  occasion,  as  Lengnich  tells  us  in  his 
Jm  J'uUicitm  Regni  Puloni ;  the  booths  erected  for  the 
senators  were  burnt  to  the  ground.  Such  proceedings 
were  only  to  bo  expected  in  a  country  where  each  Boblei 
might  keep  as  many  nrmed  rctainera  as  ho  pleased. 


294 


POLAND 


[  mSTOE^ 


The  now  king  signed  the  pada  conventa,  and  an  alliance 
offensive  and  defensive  between  Poland  and  Sweden  ;  the 
navigation  of  the  Baltic  was  secured,  and  the  debts  of  the 
nation  were  to  be  discharged.  Sigismund,  however,  soon 
became  unpopular  among  his  new  subjects,  and  among 
other  causes  of  oflfence  he  violated  the  pacta  conventa  by 
marrying  an  Austrian  princess,  Anne,  daughter  of  the 
archduke  Charles,  without  their  consent.  In  1595,  at 
Brzesc  in  Lithuania,  took  place  the  so-called  union  of  the 
Greek  and  Latin  Churches,  but  this  union  was  not  brought 
about  without  considerable  violence.  The  disputes  between 
the  king  and  the  diet  were  destined  to  be  renewed  when 
(his  wife  being  dead)  he  married  her  sister  Constantia  in 
1605.  This  union  was  also  entered  into  without  the  con- 
Bent  of  his  subjects,  and  caused  the  cup  of  their  wr..!:h, 
already  full,  to  overflow.  On  this  occasion  Jan  Zamoiski, 
the  chancellor  already  mentioned,  addressed  a  vehement 
oration  to  the  king,  which  is  quoted  at  full  length  by 
Lelewol,  in  which  he  brought  his  marriage  against  him 
among  many  other  charges.  When  Zamoiski  had  finished, 
Sigismund  rose  from  his  throne  in  a  moment  of  anger  and 
seized  his  sword.  At  this  gesture  a  murmur  of  indignation 
ran  through  the  diet,  and  Zamoiski  cried  in  the  midst  of  the 
crowd,  "  Eox,  ne  move  gladium ;  ne  te  Caium  Cassarem, 
nos  Erutos  sera  posteritas  loquatur.  Sumus  electores 
regum,  destructores  tyraanorum  ;  regna,  sed  ne  impera." 
A  great  rokos:  or  secession,  as  the  phrase  was  in  Polish, 
was  the  result  of  this.  But  the  rebels  wanted  able  leaders, 
and  the  king  defeated  them  at  Guzow,  near  Radom,  on  the 
Cth  July  IG07,  and  thus  his  throne,  already  tottering, 
seemed  to  become  a  little  stronger.  He  pardoned  the 
insurgents ;  and  the  country,  on  the  verge  of  civil  war, 
seemed  pacified  ;  but  the  rebellion  was  a  fatal  precedent. 
The  most  important  events  in  this  reign  were  the  transac- 
tions which  took  place  between  Poland  and  Russia.  The 
renegade  monk  Otrepief?  personated  the  young  Dmitri  of 
Russia,  who  had  been  assassinated,  probably  by  the  orders 
of  Boris  Godounoff,  and  aspired  to  seat  himself  upon  the 
Ihrone  of  the  czars.  This  wonderful  plot  was  concocted 
at  Cracow,  and  seems  to  have  been  a  plan  of  the  Jesuits  to 
bring  over  the  Russians  to  the  Latin  Church.^  In  160G 
the  pretender  was  killed  in  a  tumult,  and  many  of  the 
Poles  who  had  accompanied  him  to  Moscow  were  murdered. 
[n  1617  Sigismund  sent  his  son  Wtadystaw  to  Moscow, 
which  had  been  taken  by  the  Polish  general  Zolkiewski. 
Wtadystaw  was  elected  czar  by  a;' certain  faction;  but  the 
Russians,  disliking  to  have  a  heretic  for  their  emperor, 
rose  against  the  newly  appointed  .sovereign ;  and  the 
patriotism  which  was  lacking  to  the  boyars  was  found  in 
the  unselfish  devotion  of  a  provincial  butcher.  Russia 
was  freed,  and  a  new  dynasty  was  established  in  the 
person  of  ilichael  Romanoff.  Sigismund  had  many  wars 
with  the  Turks,  which  led  to  no  very  important  results  ; 
the  great  victory,  however,  of  Chodkie»-icz  at  Khotin 
(September  28,  1G22)  has  become  ever  memorable  in 
Polish  annals,  and  has  formed  the  subject  of  several 
poems.  Lengnich,  in  his  Jus  Publicum  Regni  Poloni,  tells 
us  that  in  1632  the  Cossacks  petitioned  to  bo  allowed  to 
take  part  in  the  diets.  Their  request  was  refused  in  an 
insulting  manner ;  and  the  Poles  had  soon  to  pay  dear  for 
their  insolence.  Sigismund  died  in  1632  ;  his  statue  still- 
ornaments  the  city  of  Warsaw,  which  he  made  the  capital 
in  the  place  of  Cracow.  He  was  unceasing  in  his  efforts 
pi  extirpate  Protestantism  from  his  dominions. 

The  luxury  of  the  nobles  at  this  period  has  been 
(Icsoribed  at  great  length  by  Lelewel,  He  has  also  much 
to  tell  us  about  the  small  armies  of  retainers  kept  up  by 
the  Joles.  which  it  is  a  pity  there  was  no  statute  of 

'See,  however,  Jiome  et  Uemarm^y^X.  P.  rierliug,  S.  J.  (Paris, 
"ZSj^Jfor.tJie  coiitrary_vie«r. 


maintenance,  as  in  England,  to  check.  These  private 
troops,  however  much  bravery  they  may  have  occasionally 
shown,  prevented  aU  unity  of  action.  The  reign  ol 
Sigismund  III.  was  on  many  grounds  a  disastrous  one  foj 
Poland,  and  it  was  a  very  long  one.  There  were  constant 
military  revolts  and  religious  tumults.  The  king  and  his 
Austrian  wife  were  so  foolish  as  to  be  partly  drawn  into 
the  Thirty  Years'  War.  They  thought  that,  supported  by 
the  emperor  and  the  king  of  Spain,  they  might  be  able  lo 
regain  the  crown  of  Sweden.  They  therefore  permitted 
the  emperor  to  enrol  troops  in  Poland,  and  even  sent  him 
some  regiments  of  Cossacks ;  they  al.so  got  ready  a  fleet  in 
the  Baltic — strange  as  it  may  seem  to  hear  of  Poland  as  a 
naval  power.  All  these  plans,  however,  ended  miserably. 
By  the  treaty  of  Malborg  (Marienburg),  in  1623,  Sweden 
gained  Livonia,  Elbing,  and  part  of  Prussia. 

He  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Wtadystaw  IV.,  who  was 
elected  by  the  diet.     During  his  reign  the  usual  wars  took 
place  with  the  ancient  enemies  of  the  republic, —  the  Swedes,' 
Russians,    and   Turks.     Before    its   close    the   revolt   of 
Bogdan  Chmielnicki  had  broken  out,  which  cost  Poland 
her    Cossack  subjects,   who   had  been    so  happily  gained 
over  by  the  more  vigorous  policy  of  Batory.     The  Zapor- 
ogians,  oi  Cossacks  of  the  Dnieper,  now  transferred  theii 
allegiance    to    Alexis     of    Russia.     They    had    long    fell 
uncomfortable  under  the  Polish  government  owing  to  the 
jiroselytizing  tendencies   of   the    bigoted   Sigismund  III; 
Fresh  alarms  were  caused  by  the  erection  of  the  fortress 
of  Kudak  on  the  Dnieper,  and  they  broke  cut  into  oijeti 
rebellion.     In  1638  they  were  deprived  of  the  right  <A 
having  a  hetman  ;  and  Pawluk,  their  chief,  was  decapitated 
in    spite  of    an  express  promise    that  his  life  should   be 
spared.     Wtadystaw  was    in  constant  collision    with   his 
nobles.     He  fretted  under  the  restrictions  placed  upon  his 
power,  and  attempted  to  carry  on  wars  without  the  con- 
sent of  the  diet      But  the  nobles  compelled  him  to  break 
all  his  engagements.     He   died   at   Merecz  in  Lithuania, 
between  Grodno  and  Vilna,   May  20,  16-18,  and  was  suc- 
ceeded by  his  brother  John  Casimir  (Jan  Kazimi^rz),  the  Jorn 
other  candidates  being  the  czar  Alexis,  father  of  Peter  the  '\"!',^* 
Great,  and  Ragotzi,  prince  of  Transylvania.     One  of  the  , 
first  acts  of  the  new  king  was  to  endeavour  to  negotiate 
with   Bogdan,   but  the   negotiations  were  brought  to  an 
abrupt  termination  by  the   treachery  of  ATisniowiecki,  the 
Polish  general,  who  fell  upon  the  unsuspecting  Cossacks 
while  they  were  deliberating  about  the  terms  of  the  con- 
vention.    After    this    massacre   Bogdan    raised    another 
army,  but  was  completely  defeated  by  John  Casimir  at 
Beresteczko  in  1651.     The  kingdom,  however,  was  thrown 
into  the  greatest  confusion  by  the  disputes  of  the  nobles, 
and  all  vigorous  action  was  paralysed.     Tlie  blood-stained 
annals  of  these  wars  are  full  of  horrors  :  the  population 
in  many   districts   was   entirely   extirpated;   everywhere 
murder  and  plunder  were  rampant ;  and  tortures  too  hor- 
rible to  mention  were  inflicted  upon  the  unhappy  prisoners; 
At  a  diet  held  in  1652  a  single  nuntius  for  the  first  time 
annulled  by  his  Uherum  veto  the  united  resolutions  of  the 
whole  assembly, — Sicinski,  from  Upita  in  Lithuania,  stop- 
ping the   diet  with  the   simple  word  "  niepozwalam "  (I 
forbid).     As  soon  as  he  had  uttered  this  ominous  protest 
he  quitted  the  assembly.     Those   who  were  present  were 
puzzled  as  to  what  construction  they  ought  to  put  upon 
such  a  proceeding,  but  Sicinski  had  not  acted  without  con- 
federates on  whom  he  could  rely.     An  angry  debate  ensued, 
but  the  principle  was  finally  carried  by  a  majority  and  firmly 
established.     Ruptures  of  this  kind  became  more  frequenifc, 
as  Lelewel  tells  us,  and  the  queen  Louise  Marie,  who  had 
great  influence  over  the  king,  frequently  made  use  of  thcni. 
Lengnich,  in  his  Jus  Publicum  Regni  Polctni  (1742),  enu- 
merates thirteen  occasions  on  which  this  Jjaleful  practice 


(1M8- 
'  6.S). 


I 


1587-1674.] 


P  0   L  A   ^s   U 


295 


had  broken  up  the  die€  Tt  was  not  finally  abolished  til! 
1791.  The  reasons  why  it  was  popular  have  already  been 
Bpoken  of.  Among  other  causes  may  be  mentioned  the 
anxiety  of  the  great  officers  of  the  realm — the  commander- 
Wi-chief,  treasurer,  marshal,  and  others — to  be  free  from 
the  control  of  the  diet.  These  important  functionaries 
held  their  appointments  for  life,  and  were  under  no  super- 
vision during  the  intervals  between  the  sessions  of  the  diet. 
Again,  it  was  only  before  the  diet  that  a  noble  accused  of 
capital  crimes  could  be  brought  to  trial,  for  the  nobility 
Exercised,  as  has  already  been  said,  supreme  judicial  powers 
in  their  own  palatinates.  If,  therefore,  as  was  frequently 
'the  case,  a  criminal  of  this  rank  happened  to  be  brought 
forward,  it  was  very  convenient  for  him  to  be  able  to  pro- 
cure a  dissolution  of  the  only  tribunal  by  which  he  could 
be  convicted.  Again,  it  was  an  admirable  way  to  oppose 
the  levying  of  taxes,  which  could  only  be  raised  by  the 
consent  of  the  diet ;  and  taxes,  owing  to  the  constant  wars 
fa  which  she  was  engaged,  were  very  heavy  in  Poland. 
There  were  emissaries  of  foreign  powers,  too,  who  fomented 
these  internal  discords  and  profited  by  fomenting  them. 

The  ill  effects  of  the  liherum  veto  soon  began  to  be  felt. 
Tn  1670  the  members  of  the  diet  bound  themselves  by  an 
oath  not  to  make  use  of  the  privilege.  In  spite,  however, 
of  this  resolution  that  very  diet  was  brought  to  an  end  by 
the  appeal  of  Zabokrzycki,  the  nuntius  from  Braclaw  in 
Podolia.  In  1667,  by  the  treaty  of  Andruszowo,  Poland 
lost  to  Russia  Smolensk,  Vitebsk,  Polotsk,  and  other  towns, 
the  Dnieper  now  becoming  the  boundary  ;  Kieff,  the  inter- 
esting old  historical  city,  was  to  go  two  years  later.  In 
the  midst  of  all  these  misfortunes  the  exhausted  country 
was  attacked  by  a  new  enemy,  Sweden,  in  consequence  of 
tte  Polish  monarch  asserting  a  right  to  the  Swedish 
crown,  as  the  heir  of  the  house  of  Vasa — a  claim  which  he 
had  no  possibility  of  enforcing.  Hampered  as  he  was  by 
a  war  with  Russia,  John  could  effect  nothing  against  his 
new  enemies,  who  took  both  Warsaw  and  Cracow,  and 
ended  by  entirely  subjugating  the  country,  while  the 
wretched  king  fled  to  Silesia.  Although  these  new 
enemies  were  afterwards  expelled,  yet  the  war  was  pro- 
tracted for  some  years,  and  ended  disastrously  for  Poland. 
Charles  Gustavus,  the  Swedish  king,  is  said  to  have  pro- 
posed the  partition  of  the  country ;  he  offered  Great 
Poland  to  the  elector  of  Brandenburg,  Little  Poland  to  the 
duke  of  Transylvania,  and  a  part  of  Lithuania  to  a  Polish 
nobleman  named  Radziwitt.  But  Poland's  hour  had  not 
yet  come.  The  elector  of  Brandenburg  procured  the 
release  of  East  Prussia  from  all  seignorial  rights  in  1657. 
Livonia  was  also  another  loss,  having  been  ceded  to 
Sweden  in  1660.  An  army  of  Cossacks  and  Mongols,  which 
had  invaded  Podolia,  was  defeated  by  the  celebrated  John 
Sobieski,  who  now  first  appears  in  history  and  was  made 
commander-in-chief  of  the  Polish  troops.  Worn  out  with 
age,  and  disgusted  with  his  repeated  failures,  the  king 
abdicated  in  1668.  At  a  previous  diet  ho  had  warned  his 
turbulent  subjects  that  the  partition  of  the  kingdom  must 
1)6  the  inevitable  consequence  of  their  dissensions.  John 
Casimir  had  already  been  an  ecclesiastic ;  ho  had  been 
absolved  from  his  vows  by  the  pope  when  he  became  a 
candidate  for  the  throne.  He  now  resolved  to  betake  him- 
self again  to  the  cloister, — his  wife,  Louise  Marie,  daughter 
of  the  duke  of  Nevers,  a  woman  of  beauty  and  spirit,  being 
dead.  He  took  his  leave  of  the  Poles  in  an  affectionate 
and  dignified  address,  which  is  still  preserved,  and  has 
been  pronounced  by  Coxe  to  bo  "  the  finest  piece  of 
pathetic  eloquence  that  history  has  ever  recorded."  There 
Was  something  very  touching  in  the  fact  that  Jan  Kazimi(5rz 
repre>!'jntert  the  last  of  the  Jagieltos  and  Vasas,  the  former 
of  whom  had  so  long  ruled  over  Poland.  He  wa.s  son,  as 
previously  mentioned,  of  Sigismund  IIL,  and  great-grand- 


son of  Sigismund  I.,  whose  daughter  Catherine  had  married 
John,  king  of  Sweden.     Connor  says,  "  While  1  was  at 
Warsaw  I  spoke  with  several  old  gentlemen,  who  told  me 
that  Casimir,  the  day  after  his  resignation,  observing  the 
people  hardly  paid  him  the  respect  due  to  a  gentleman, 
much  less  to  a  king,  seemed  to  have  repented  heartily  of 
the  folly  he  had  committed"  (i.  135).     He  now  returned 
to  France,  a  country  in  which  some  years  previously  he 
had  suffered  a  strange  captivity,  having  been  detained  in 
the  reign  of  Louis  XIII.  while  passing  its  coasts ;  but  the 
story  is  too  long  to  bo  narrated  in  these  pages.     Here  he 
became  abb6  of  St  Germain  and  St  Martin,  and  drew  his 
means  of  subsistence  from  these  ecclesiastical  foundations  ; 
for  the   Poles,   although   to  all  appearance  abundantly 
moved  by  his  melancholy  rhetoric,  refused  to  continue  his 
pension.     Nor   does  he   appear  to  have  spent  the  short 
remainder  of  his  life  entirely  in  the  cloister,  as  we  are  told 
that  he  contracted  a  secret  marriage  with  an  amiable  widow 
who  had  formerly  been  a  laundress.     He,  however,  sur, 
vived  only  four  years,  dying  in  1672,  forgotten  by  the 
world  but  not  forgetting  it, — his  disease,  according  to  some 
accounts,  being  greatly  aggravated  by  his  receiving    the 
intelligence  that  Kamenets  in  Podolia  had  been  ceded  tQ 
the  Turks.     His  body  was  afterwards  brought  to  Cracow 
and   buried   in  the  cathedral.     The  diet,  which   met  on 
his   abdication,    passed  a  decree  that  for  the    future    no 
Polish  king  should  be  allowed  to  abdicate.     During  this 
reign,  in  the  year  1658,  the  Socinians  were  banished  froii 
Poland,  in  consequence  of  which  Pope  Alexander  U.  gave 
to  the  king  and  his  successors  on  the  Polish  throne  the 
title  Rex  Orthodoxus.     In  due  time  three  candidates  for 
the  vacant  throne  made  their  appearance — the  prince  of 
Condd,  the  prince  of  Neuburg,  supported  by  Louis  XIV.. 
and  Charles  of  Lorraine,  who  was  put  forward  by  Austria. 
The  first  of  these  could  rely  upon  the  cooperation  of  the 
great   Sobieski,  but   eventually   none   of    the  three    was 
chosen.     The   election    fell   upon  a  native  Pole — Priuci! 
Jlichael  Korybut  Wi^niowieckj,  of  a  noble  family  indeed,' 
but  so  impoverished  that  he  may  be  said  to  have  had  regal 
honours  thrust  upon  him  against  his  will,  and  we  are  even 
told  that  he  was  offered  the  crown  half  in  derision.     A 
graphic  picture  of  this  extraordinary   scene    is  given  in 
Pasek's  contemporary  memoirs.     Michael   soon  became  a 
mere  puppet  in  the  hands  of  his  turbulent  subjects.     His 
reign,  however,  was  rendered  illustrious  by  the  great  suc- 
cesses of  Sobieski  against  the  Turks,  although  the  Poles 
suffered  the  loss  of  the  important  town  of  Kamenets,  and 
Michael,  powerless  to  make  head  against  them,  concluded 
the  treaty  of  Buczacz,  by  which  he  even  stipulated  to  pay 
them  tribute.     By  the  great  victory  of  Khotin  in  1673,' 
Sobieski  did  much  to  repair  these  losses,  and  was  about  to 
follow  up  his  glorious  campaign  when  ho  heard  of  the  death 
of  Wis'niowiecki  at  Lembergin  Galicia  ;  so  sudden  was  tho 
end  of  Michael  that  some  have  even  supposed  that  ho  was 
poisoned, — "  by  a  Frenchman,"  says  Connor.     Tiic  diet  met 
at  Warsaw  ;  there  wore  several   candidates  ;   and   among 
others  Charles  of  Lorraine  and  Philip  of  Neuburg  again 
put  forward  their  claims.     While  the  nobles  were  still  iq 
session,  Sobieski,  fresh  from  his  glorious  victory,  entered  and 
proposed  the  prince  of  Cond^.     A  stormy  discus-sion  ensued, 
and  in  tho  midst  of  it  one  of  the  nobles,  Jablonowski,  was 
heard  to  say,  "  Let  a  Polo  rule  over  Poland."     Tlio  cry 
found  a  magic  echo  among  those  who  were  present,  and 
the  gallant  Sobie-ski,  the  greatest  of  Polish  generals,  and 
one  of  tho  first  .soldiers  of  hLs  time,   was  appointed  kiity 
under  tho  title  of  John  III     although  not  without  con- 
siderable opposition  from  Michael  Pac,  the  general  inchicfj 
of   Lithuania,  who   wa.s    however,  ultimately  induced    to 
withdraw  his  protest.     This  king  signed   the  same  jMcta 
convaita  as  the  preceding  monarrhs  ;  there  was,  howcvcrj 


296 


POLAND 


[HisTony. 


a  trifling  addition  made  to  them,  but  that  a  very  absurd 
one.  To  the  article  declaring  that  offices  should  only  be 
conferred  on  native  nobles  it  was  added,  "and  on  such 
only  as  have  had  their  honours  during  three  generations." 
The  leading  idea  of  Sobieski  was  to  drive  the  Turks  out 
of  Europe,  and  if  possible  to  resuscitate  the  Byzantine 
empire.  He  was  soon  roused  to  action  by  a  new  invasion 
of  the  Turks  and  Mongols,  whose  united  armies  are  said  to 
have  amounted  to  210,000  men,i  commanded  by  the 
Seraskier  Ibrahim,  whose  ferocious  character  was  suffi- 
ciently indicated  by  his  soubriquet,  Shaitan  or  Devil. 
We  are  told  that  Sobieski  had  only  10,000  men  to  oppose 
to  this  vast  host ;  he,  however,  set  out  from  Lemberg,  and 
was  soon  hemmed  in  by  his  adversaries  at  Zurawno,  in 
Galicia,  but  by  consummate  bravery  and  adroitness  suc- 
ceeded in  rescuing  himself  and  his  soldiers,  even  conclud- 
ing a  treaty  with  the  Porte  on  favourable  terms,  by  which 
Poland  received  back  a  part  of  the  Ukraine  and  Podolia. 

Some  years  of  peace  followed,  during  which  the  king  in 
vain  endeavoured  to  raise  supplies  for  an  army  to  recon- 
quer the  provinces  which  Russia  had  appropriated.  All 
his  plans  were  neutralized  by  the  absurd  practice  of  the 
liberum  veto.  In  1683  the  Turks  made  their  grand  inva- 
Siege  of  sion  which  they  had  long  been  preparing.  After  scouring 
Vienna  tile  plains  of  Hungary,  they  advanced  to  the  very  walls  of 
(1683).  Vienna.  The  emperor  Leopold  at  once  fled  with  his  court, 
but  had  great  difficulty  to  avoid  falling  into  the  hands  of  the 
Mongols.  The  imperial  party  made  no  stay  till  it  reached 
the  Bavarian  fortress  of  Passau.  Quick  in  its  track 
followed  also  the  wealthier  portion  of  the  inhabitants ; 
their  selfish  desertion  aroused  murmurs  of  disapprobation, 
and  also  considerably  thinned  the  number  of.  the  popula- 
tion capable  of  bearing  arms ;  many  of  these  fugitives  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  invaders,  who  were  capable  of  any 
cruelty.  The  command  of  the  city  was  taken  by  Count 
Stahremberg ;  he  had  already  approved  himself  a  brave 
soldier,  and  had  been  nominated  to  the  post  by  the 
emperor.  All  classes  at  once — including  even  priests  and 
women — laboured  diligently  at  the  fortifications,  the  bur- 
gomaster Von  Liebenberg  himself  setting  an  excellent 
example.  The  imperial  archives  had  already  been  removed; 
nothing  now  remained  for  the  devoted  city  but  to  await 
the  approach  of  the  enemy.  The  inhabitants  could  see 
the  desolated  villages,  and  the  fire  and  smoke  of  the  burn- 
ing cottages  were  conspicuous  for  miles  around.  At  sun- 
rise on  July  14  the  vast  hordes  of  the  invaders,  a  pro- 
miscuous crowd  of  soldiers,  camp-fa' lowers,  camels,  and 
baggage-waggo.is  made  their  appearance.  The  camp  was 
arranged  in  tht  form  of  a  crescent ;  jplendid  above  all 
other  things  was  the  tent  of  the  vizier,  Kara  Mustapha, 
made  of  green  silk,  worked  with  gold  and  silver,  set  with 
precious  stones,  and  containing  inside  the  holy  standard 
of  the  prophet.  Marvellous  stories  are  told  of  the  foun- 
tains, baths,  gardens,  and  all  the  appliances  of  Oriental 
luxury  which  it  contained.  Many  painful  incidents  char- 
acterized the  siege  before  the  arrival  of  Sobieski ;  a  fire  at 
one  time  broke  out  in  the  city,  which  was  only  suppressed 
with  difficulty.  Diseases  raged  among  the  townspeople 
owing  to  their  being  compelled  to  spend  their  days  in 
such  close  quarters  and  to  live  chiefly  upon  salt  meat. 
Belief,  however,  was  rapidly  approaching.  The  elector  of 
Saxony,  John  George,  marched  out  of  Dresden  on  the  22d 
July  with  twelve  thousand  men  and  eighteen  guns,  and 
reached  Krems  on  the  28th  August.  The  Polish  king,  who 
had  been  solicited  by  the  emperor  himself,  and  to  whom  all 
Europe  looked  now  as  its  saviour,  left  Cracow  accompanied 
by  his  son,  and  succeeded  in  reaching  the  quarters  of 
Prince  Charles  of  Lorraine.     He  was  to   act  in  concert 

'  80,000  Turks  and  130,000  Mongols,  as  we  are  told  by  the  Poli^li 
historians. 


with  a  man  who  had  been  competitor  with  him  for  the 
Polish  crown  ;  their  meeting  passed  ofi  amicably,  and  no 
subsequent  jealousies  seem  to  have  marred  their  opera- 
tions. The  Polish  and  German  troops  effected  their 
junction  at  Krems  on  the  Danube,  near  Vienna ;  there 
were  about  seventy-seven  thousand  men  ready  for  active 
operations  in  the  field.  On  the  12th  September,  after 
mass,  Sobieski  descended  from  the  city  to  encounter  the 
dense  masses  of  the  Moslems  in  the  plains  below.  He 
appeared  with  his  hair  partly  shaven  in  the  Polish  fashion, 
and,  although  plainly  attired  himself,  was  accompanied  by  a 
brilliant  retinue.  In  front  went  an  attendant  bearing  the 
king's  arms  emblazoned,  and  with  him  another  who  carried 
a  plume  on  the  point  of  his  lance.  On  his  left  rode  his 
son  James,  unfortunate  in  afterwards  incurring  the  hatred 
of  his  mother,  who  perhaps  prevented  him  from  being 
elected  to  the  throne  of  Poland  ;  on  his  right  was  his  old 
rival,  Charles  of  Lorraine.  Before  the  battle  the  king 
knighted  his  son  and  made  a  patriotic  address  to  his 
troops,  in  which  he  told  them  that  on  that  occasion  they 
did  not  defend  Vienna  alone,  but  rather  all  Christendom, 
and  that  they  were  not  fighting  for  an  earthly  sovereign 
but  for  the  King  of  kings.  The  shouts  of  the  soldiers  bore 
to  the  enemy  the  dreaded  name  of  Sobieski,  familiar  to 
them  on  many  a  weU-fought  field.  He  is  said  to  have 
been  provoked  to  give  the  order  for  battle  by  seeing  Kara 
Mustapha,  the  Turkish  commander,  tranquilly  taking 
coffee  with  his  two  sons  in  his  splendid  tent. 

The  assault  was  made  simultaneously  on  the  wings  and 
centre  of  the  enemy.  The  king  himself  dashed  forward 
to  the  pasha's  tent,  bearing  down  all  opposition  and 
repeating  with  a  loud  voice,  "  Non  nobis,  non  nobis, 
Domine  exercituum,  sed  nomini  Tuo  da  gloriam."  "Allah  I" 
said  the  Mongol  khan,  "the  king  is  surely  among  them." 
In  spite  of  the  bravery  of  the  Turks  they  were  overpowered 
by  the  elan  of  the  Poles.  Six  pashas  were  slain,  and  the 
vizier  fled  with  the  remnant  of  his  army.  The  booty  taken 
was  immense.  The  details  of  the  battle  may  be  gathered 
from  the  interesting  letters  which  Sobieski  wrote  to  his 
wife  in  the  Polish  language.  She  was  a  Frenchwoman, 
daughter  of  Henri  de  la  Grange,  captain  of  the  guard  to 
Phihp,  duke  of  Orleans,  and  had  been  originally  maid  of 
honour  to  Louisa,  queen  of  Wtadystaw  IV.,  was  then 
married  to  Count  Zamoiski,  and  after  his  death  became 
the  wife  of  Sobieski.  It  is  said  that  chiefly  on  her  account 
the  Polish  king  was  induced  to  assist  Austria.  The  selfish 
policy  of  Louis  XIV.  would  have  allowed  this  outpost  of 
Chn'stian  Europe  to  be  tai'cen  by  the  Turks,  and  he  used 
all  tKe  secret  springs  of  his  diplomacy  to  divert  Sobieskf 
from  his  purpose.  He  had,  however,  given  mortal  offence 
to  this  ambitious  woman  in  refusing  the  title  of  duke 
to  her  father.  After  the  complete  rout  of  the  Moslem, 
Sobieski  and  his  troops  entered  Vienna,  and  divine  service 
was  performed  in  the  cathedral ;  a  priest  read  aloud  the 
text,  "  There  was  a  man  sent  from  God,  whose  name  was 
John."  In  spite  of  his  success,  the  brave  Pole  was 
doomed  to  meet  with  ingratitude  at  the  hands  of  the 
emperor  Leopold,  and  through  the  selfishness  of  his  own 
troops  and  the  Lithuanian  contingent,  who  seem  to  have 
been  always  at  cross  purposes  with  the  Poles,  he  was  not 
able  to  follow  up  his  victory  to  its  legitimate  end. 

The  king,  after  this  brilliant  achievement,  showed  some 
inclination  to  be  reconciled  to  Louis  XIV.,  but  the 
emperor  succeeded  in  diverting  him  by  holding  out  hopea 
of  securing  the  government  of  Moldavia  and  Wallachia  for 
his  son.  By  the  treaty  of  Moscow,  which  Sobieski  con- 
cluded in  1686  with  Sophia,  the  regent  of  Russia, 
Smolensk,  Severia,  Tchernigoff,  and  Kieff  were  definitely 
annexed  to  the  latter  country.  The  private  life  of  Sobieski 
,was  embittered  by  family  dissensions ;  he  was  very  muoh 


IC75-17G8.] 


POLAND 


297 


under  the  iftfluence  of  his  wife,  a  woman  of  great  beauty, 
but  avaricious,  fond  of  power,  and  revengeful.  Thus  the 
illustrious  soldier  had  not  peace  in  his  own  house,  nor  was 
he  likely  to  meet  with  it  in  the  stormy  debates  of  the 
diet,  several  of  which  were  broken  off  by  the  exercise  of 
the  liberum  veto  ;  and  so  wearisome  had  his  position  become 
that  he  several  times  thought  of  abdicating,  and  the 
Austrian  party  (such  was  the  gratitude  he  met  with) 
sought  to  effect  this.  He  finally  sank  under  an  accumula- 
tion of  disorders,  and  expired  on  the  17th  Juno  1696,  at 
his  favourite  castle  of  Willanow.  Many  incidents  of  his 
death-bed  have  been  recorded  by  Zatuski,  the  bishop  of 
Plock,  which  show  that  the  king  died  ill  at  ease,  being 
filled  with  the  gravest  apprehensions  concerning  the  future 
of  his  country.  The  family  is  now  extinct.  With  him 
sank  the  glory  of  Poland,  which  was  rapidly  hastening 
to  its  fall. 

After  a  time  the  diet  met  as  usual  to  elect  the  new 
sovereign.  The  three  chief  candidates  were  James  Sobi- 
eski,  the  son  of  the  late  king ;  the  prince  of  Cond6,  a 
nephew  of  Louis  XIV.;  and  the  elector  of  Saxony.  The 
elector  was  appointed,  and,  in  order  to  qualify  for  the 
throne,  abjured  Protestantism.  In  1699,  by  the  peace  of 
Carlowitz,  the  Turks  renounced  all  gjaim  over  the  Ukraine 
and  Podolia,  but  the  king  was  foolish  enough  to  allow 
himself  to  be  drawn  into  a  war  with  the  Swedes,  in  conse- 
quence of  which  Cracow  was  taken  in  1702.  Charles 
XII.  of  Sweden  became  master  of  the  country,  and  de- 
posed the  newly  elected  Frederick  Augustus,  in  whose 
[)lace  was  chosen  Stanistaw  Leszczynski,  palatine  of  Posen, 
a  man  of  benevolence  and  learning.  All  the  courts  of 
Europe  recognized  this  new  king  except  the  czar  Peter,  and 
when  the  latter  defeated  Charles  at  the  battle  of  Poltava  in 
1709  Leszczynski  was  compelled  to  leave  the  country,  and 
Augustus  II.,  as  he  was  styled,  was  restored.  Stanistaw 
at  the  approach  of  the  Russian  troops  retired  to  Lorraine, 
which  he  governed  till  his  death  at  an  advanced  age.  In 
this  reign  Poland  lost  Courland,  which  had  long  been  one 
of  its  fiefs,  but  was  now  seized  by  the  Russians  and  giveti 
by  the  empress  Anne  to  her  favourite  Biren.  The  Dissi- 
dents, as  the  Protestants  were  called,  were  slowly  decreas- 
ing in  number,  and  in  an  emeute  which  occurred  at  Thorn 
in  1724  many  were  cruelly  put  to  death.  A  little  later, 
in  1733,  a  law  was  passed  by  which  they  were  declared 
incapable  of  holding  any  ofEce  or  enjoying  any  dignity. 
Augustus  II.  died  at  Warsaw  in  the  last-mentioned  year. 
He  was  a  contemptible  king,  notorious  for  his  private 
vices.  At  the  instigation  of  many  of  the  Poles,  Stanistaw 
Leszczyriski,  who  was  now  residing  in  Lorraine,  and  had 
become  the  father-in-law  of  Louis  XV.,  was  induced  to 
return  to  Poland,  and  was  elected  king  at  Warsaw  by  a 
large  majority.  This  election,  however,  was  displeasing 
to  Austria  and  Russia,  who  resolved  to  resist  his  preten- 
sions and  to  secure  the  election  of  Frederick  Augustus, 
the  son  of  the  late  king.  A  Russian  army  arrived  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Warsaw,  and  a  pa^-ty  of  the  nobles 
opposed  to  the  French  influence  proclaimed  the  Saxon.  Ho 
accordingly  swore  to  the  pacta  conventa,  and  was  crowned 
king  at  Cracow  in  1734.  Meanwhile  the  unfortunate 
Stanistaw  fled  to  Dantzic,  where  he  hoped  to  hold  out  till 
assistance  should  arrive  from  France.  The  city,  however, 
was  obliged  to  capitulate  after  a  siege  of  five  months  ;  and 
Stanistaw,  after  many  adventures  and  narrow  escapes, 
reached  the  Prussian  dominions.  In  1736  a  diet  of  pacifi- 
cation was  held  at  Warsaw,  which  was  followed  by  a  general 
imnesty.  The  condition  of  the  country  during  this  reign 
wa^  deplorable,  although  Poland  was  engaged  in  no  wars. 
Factions  rent  the  government,  and  the  peasantry,  crushed 
and  sufl'ering,  betook  themselves  to  robbery  and  iiillapo. 
The  king  was  a  man  of  low  tastes  and  abandoned  himself 


to  pleasure.  One  of  his  favourite  amusements  was  shooting 
dogs  from  the  windows  of  his  palace  at  Warsaw,  in  conse^ 
quence  of  which  dogs  became  very  scarce  in  the  city.  He 
was  too  idle  to  learn  a  word  of  Polish,  and  left  everything 
to  the  management  of  his  minister  Briihl.  Frederick  died 
on  October  3,  176.3,  at  Dresden,  where  he  was  buried 
In  1764  Stanistaw  August  Poniatowski  was  elected  king, 
chiefly  through  the  machinations  of  the  Russian  empress 
Catherine.  The  new  monarch  was  a  man  of  refined 
manners  and  elegant  mind,  but  weak,  and  a  mere  puppet 
in  Muscovite  hands.  He  caused  the  libtnmi  veto  to  be 
abolished,  but  it  was  soon  restored  (in  1766),  in  conse- 
quence, it  is  said,  of  Russian  influence,  as  the  ruin  of 
Poland  had  been  resolved  upon.  In  1768  a  few  patriots 
met  at  the  little  town  of  Bar  in  Podolia,  and  formed  what 
was  called  the  Confederation  of  Bar,  their  object  being  to 
free  the  country  from  foreign  influence.  Among  the 
members  of  this  confederation  were  the  Pulawskis  (Casi- 
mir  and  Joseph),  Joachim  Potocki,  and  Adam  Krasiriski, 
bishop  of  Kamenets.  Their  military  operations  extended 
over  all  Poland  and  Lithuania,  but  the  Russian  troops 
stationed  round  the  capital  prevented  the  junction  of  the 
confederates  with  the  national  army.  Moreover  the  con- 
federates, whose  number  amounted  to  about  eight  thousand 
fighting  men,  were  badly  organized.  In  spite  of  a  few 
trifling  successes  they  saw  their  efforts  gradually  growing 
weaker.  Nor  did  a  bold  attempt  to  carry  off  the  king 
result  in  success.  Their  party  speedily  broke  up,  and 
Casimir  Pulawski,  one  of  the  leading  spirits,  left  the 
country  and  joined  the  Americans  in  their  War  of  In- 
dependence, in  which  he  soon  afterwards  perished.  In 
consequence  of  the  efforts  of  these  patriots  the  pernicious 
liberum  veto  was  put  a  stop  to,  though  afterwards  for  a 
short  time  restored  ;  but  the  partition  of  the  country  had 
already  been  secretly  agreed  upon  by  Russia,  Prussia,  and 
Austria.  The  idea  appears  to  have  been  first  suggested 
by  Frederick  the  Great.  M.  Rambaud,  in  his  Histoire  de 
la  Bussie,  gives  the  following  as  the  chief  causes  which  led 
to  the  destruction  of  Poland,  which,  in  addition,  had 
always  suffered  from  the  want  of  natural  frontiers  : — 

1.  The  national  movement  in  Russia,  wliich  fostered  the  iJea  of 
recovering  the  provinces  in  the  west  which  had  formerly  beeu 
Russian  territory,  and  spoke  a  lanpuoge  but  little  dili'ering  from 
Russian.  To  this  was  to  be  added  the  fact  that  the  majority  of  the 
inhabitants  weie  members  of  the  Greek  Church.  This  feeling  liad 
already  led  to  the  conquest  of  some  of  the  western  provinces  in  th« 
time  of  Alexis  Mikhailovich  as  previously  mentioned.  Moreover, 
tlie  members  of  the  Greek  Church  were  being  constantly  persecuted 
by  the  Jesuits,  who  had  done  so  much  mischief  to  the  country. 

2.  The  great  desire  of  Prussia  to  become  possessed  of  tlio  lower 
part  of  the  Vistula,  with  the  towns  of  Thorn  and  Pantzic.  A  reason 
for  Pru.ssian  interference  was  alTorded  by  the  Polish  persecution  of 
the  "  Dissidents,"  as  a  sample  of  which  the  cruelties  committed  at 
Thorn  may  be  cited. 

3.  The  general  political  condition  of  Poland— an  anaclironism 
among  the  nations  of  Europe.  They  had  become  strong  by  centralized 
power  and  by  harmonizing  their  governments  with  the  spirit  of  th6 
age.  In  Poland  there  was  no.  middle  class  ;  for  the  trade  in  tha 
towDB  was  in  the  hands  of  foreigners,  and  especially  Jews. 

There  were  to  be  seen  a  proud  nobility,  the  members 
of  which  were  engaged  in  constant  feuds  among  them- 
selves, and  far  below  them  miserable  serfs  deprived  of  all 
political  rights.  There  was  no  national  spirit  in  the 
country,  no  sympathy  between  the  nobility  and  peasantry. 
It  was  the  Jews  who  chiefly  busied  themselves  with  com- 
merce; they  distributed  the  products,  selling  at  the  same 
time  to  the  serfs  and  their  masters,  and  preventing  the  two 
clas.ses  of  the  natives  of  the  country  to  a  grcot  extent  from 
coming  into  contact  with  each  other.  By  their  efforts  the 
economic  functions  of  evcry-day  life  were  carried  on,  and 
yet  they  could  not  bo  considered  a  real  part  of  the  nation. 
In  the  moment  of  danger  they  were  not  at  hand  to  bring 
together  distinct  classes  and  to  establish  a  common  bond 

XIX.  —  .^8 


298 


POLAND 


fHISlOKY. 


61  interest;  tlie~nation,'thus  consisting  of  men  who  did 
act  understand  each  other,  remained  perplexed  and  divided. 
The  peasants,  who  had  at  one  time  communal  possession 
of  the  land,  according  to  the  old  Slavonic  custom,  had 
long  ago  lost  all  their  rights.  Those  Poles  who  struggled 
for  liberty  themselves  were  not  willing  to  extend  it  to 
their  unhappy  serfs.  Kosciuszko  desired  to  see  serfdom 
abolished ;  but  the  peasants  who  followed  him  only 
enjoyed  their  liberty  during  the  war,  and  his  decree  of 
emancipation  was  so  vaguely  expressed  that  it  was  ineffec- 
tual It  is  strange  to  think  that  the  real  liberators  of  the 
peasant  were  the  Russians,  who  in  the  revolt  of  1863  gave 
him  a  portion  of  the  land  which  he  cultivated. 

In  J772  Prussia  took  the  palatinates  of  Malborg, 
Pomeria,  and  Warmia,  Culm,  except  Dantzic  and  Thorn, 
and  a  part  of  Great  Poland ;  Austria  took  Red  Russia  or 
Galicia,  with  a  part  of  Podolia,  Sandomir,  and  Cracow ; 
and  Russia  took  White  Russia,  with  all  the  part  beyond 
the  Dnieper.  The  Poles  were  obliged  to  sanction  this 
plundering  of  their  country  in  a  diet  held  in  1778. 
The  only  real  benefit  conferred  on  the  nation  by  this  diet 
was  the  introduction  of  a  better  system  of  education ;  the 
Jesuits  were  also  suppressed,  and  their  immense  estates 
became  national  property.  Although  the  courtry  had 
been  mutilated  in  this  fashion,  it  yet  enjoyed  tranquillity 
for  a  short  time,  and  even  made  som§  material  progress. 
Thus  some  useful  manufactures  were  introduced.  In 
1788  a  remarkable  diet  was  opened  which  lasted  four 
years,— the  longest  on  record,  for  the  others  had  only 
endured  a  few  days  or  a  few  weeks  at  most.  At  this 
many  important  changes  were  introduced,  such  as  the 
amelioration  of  the  condition  of  the  burghers  and  peasants ; 
but  it  was  now  too  late.  On  this  occasion  the  liheruni 
veto  was  decisively  suppressed  and  the  throne  declared 
hereditary.  The  elector  of  Saxony,  grandson  af  the 
wretched  and  incapable  Augustus  III.,  was  declared  the 
successor  of  Stanislaus.  The  Roman  Catholic  was  to  be 
the  dominant  religion,  but  the  Dissidents  were  to  be  toler- 
ated. The  burghers  were  to  send  deputies  to  the  diet  on 
the  same  footing  as  the  nobles.  The  peasants  were  not 
yet  emancipated,  but  their  condition  was  improved.  The 
new  constitution  was  finally  promulgated  on  the  3d  May 
1791.  The  king  and  the  two  chambers  took  the  oaths  to 
preserve  it.  The  country  now  seemed  to  breathe  afresh, 
and  to  be  established  upon  a  new  basis.  But  the  selfish- 
ness of  the  Polish  nobles,  who  had  alvrays  been  the  evil 
genius  of  the  country,  overturned  all  the  arrangements. 
Among  the  most  prominent  non-contents  was  Felix 
Potocki,  who  was  anxious  to  restore  to  the  nobility  the 
privileges  they  had  lost  by  the  new  constitution.  In 
concert  with  him  were  Francis  Xavier  Branicki  and 
Severin  Rzewuski,  who  sought  the  assistance  of  foreign 
powers,  and  especially  Russia.  These  enemies  of  their 
country  formed,  in  1792,  the  Confederation  of  Targovica, 
and  soon  afterwards  at  their  instigation  Russian  troops 
invaded  Poland  and  Lithuania.  The  feeble  king,  Stanis- 
laus Augustus,  made  no  resistance ;  he  signed  the  conven- 
tion of  Targovica,  and  the  Russians  occupied  Warsaw.  In 
1793  another  treaty  of  partition  was  signed,  by  which 
Prussia  acquired  the  remainder  of-  Great  and  a  portion  of 
Little  Poland,  and  the  Russian  boundary  was  advanced  to 
the  centre  of  Lithuania  and  Volhynia.  An  insurrection 
now  broke  out  under  the  leadership  of  Thaddeus  Kosci- 
uszko, which  at  first  made  head  against  the  Prussians  and 
Russians,  who  had  invaded  the  country  from  all  quarters  ; 
but  the  successes  of  the  insurgents  were  stained  by  the 
murders  committed  by  the  popular  party  at  Warsaw. 
Suwaroff  now  entered  the  country,  and  Kosciuszko  was 
finally  defeated  and  made  prisoner  at  the  battle  of  Macie- 
jowice  in  1794;  there  is  no  truth,  how  ever,  in  the  assertion 


that  he  cried  out  on  that  occasion,  "Finis  Poloniae  ";  this 
he  always  denied  till  the  day  of  his  death.  After  storming 
the  suburb  Praga,  Suwaroff  took  Warsaw,  and  the  city  was 
sacked  with  great  cruelty.  The  kingdom  of  Poland  was 
now  at  an  end,  and  the  third  division  took  place.  Austria 
had  Cracow,  with  the  country  between  the  PUica,  the 
Vistula,  and  the  Bug ;  Prussia  had  the  capital,  with  the 
territory  as  far  as  the  Niemen ;  and  the  rest  went  to 
Russia.  Stanislaus  resigned  the  crown  at  Grodno  on 
April  25,  1795 ;  he  was  summoned  to  St  Petersburg, 
where  he  is  said  to  have  endured  many  indignities  from 
the  emperor  Paul,  who  never  allowed  him  to  remain  seated 
in  his  presence.     There  he  died  in  1798. 

Many  of  the  Poles  now  entered  foreign  services,  as,  for 
instance,  the  legion  which  followed  the  fortunes  of  France  ; 
but  the  fate  of  these  exiled  patriots  was  often  a  sad  one. 
Many  perished  on  the  burning  sands  of  St  Domingo. 
Many  were  killed  in  the  famous  expedition  to  JIoscow. 
The  Poles  looked  anxiously  to  the  success  of  Napoleon. 
But  all  that  the  conqueror  did  for  them  was  to  form  the 
duchy  of  Warsaw,  consisting  of  six  departments — Posen, 
Kalisz,  Ptock,  Warsaw,  Lomza,  and  Bydgoszcz — with  a 
population  of  more  than  two  millions,  which  he  united 
with  Saxony. 

A  resettlement  of  Poland  took  place  by  the  treaty  of 
Vienna  (1814).  (1)  Austria  was  to  have  Galicia  and  the 
salt-mines  of  Wieliczka.  (2)  Posen  was  to  belong  to 
Prussia.  This  power  was  also  confirmed  in  what  it  had 
gained  at  the  first  partition.  (3)  The  city  and  district  of 
Cracow  were  to  form  an  independent  republic  under  the 
guarantee  of  the  three  powers.  This  historical  town  was 
annexed  by  Austria  in  1846  in  defiance  of  all  international 
law.  (4)  The  remainder  of  ancient  Poland,  comprising  the 
chief  parts  of  the  recent  grand-duchy  of  "Warsaw  (embracing 
a  tract  bounded  by  a  line  drawn  from  Thorn  to  near 
Cracow  on  the  west,  to  the  Bug  and  Niemen  in  the  east), 
reverted  to  Russia,  and  was  to  form  a  constitutional 
kingdom  subject  to  the  czar.  This  constitution,  consider- 
ing the  circumstances,  was  a  very  liberal  one.  Poland 
was  to  be  governed  by  responsible  ministers,  a  senate,  and 
a  legislative  chamber.  There  were  to  be  a  national  army 
under  the  national  flag  and  a  separate  budget.  Polish 
was  to  be  the  ofiicial  language  ;  personal  liberty  and  the 
freedom  of  the  press  were  also  guaranteed.  It  was 
obvious  from  the  first  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  unite  a 
country  with  such  a  liberal  constitution  to  another  still 
governed  by  a, patriarchal  despotism.  Zajacek  was  named 
viceroy,  and  the  grand-duke  Constantine,  brother  of  the 
emperor  Alexander,  took  the  command  of  the  army. 

The  rebellions  of  the  Poles  in  1830  and  1863  more 
properly  belong  to  Russian  history  ;  perhaps,  however,  a 
few  facts  connected  with  them  may  be  appropriately  intro- 
duced here. 

Considering  the  delicate  position  of  affairs  in  Russian 
ioland,  things  had  worked  fairly  well.  The  impulse  to 
the  Polish  revolution  was  undoubtedly  given  by  the  French. 
It  was  begun  by  some  students,  who  hoped  to  seize  the 
grand-duke  Constantine  at  his  residence.  Belvedere,  in  the 
vicinity  of  Warsaw.  In  the  evening  of  November  29, 
1830,  they  accordingly  proceeded  to  the  palace,  but  did  not 
succeed  in  capturing  the  grand-duke.  The  city,  however, 
rose,  the  troops  fraternized  with  the  people,  and  the  chief 
•command  was  entrusted  to  General  Chlopicki,  a  veteran 
of  the  wars  of  Napoleon.  Early  in  1831  a  large  Russian 
army,  commanded  by  Diebitsch,  advanced  to  reduce  them 
to  submission.  Chlopicki  laid  down  his  dictatorship,  but 
the  Poles  pursued  the  insurrection  with  vigour  under 
the  command  of  Prince  Adam  Czartoryskl  They  were 
disappointed  in  their  hopes,  of  assistance  from  foreign 
powers.     On  the  8th  September  Warsaw  surrendered  to 


Resettle- 
ment by 
treaty  ol 
Vieaua, 


LIXEUATURE.] 


1^  0  L  A  :n  D 


299 


Paskewitch,  who  had  taken  the  command,  Diebitsch  having 
died  of  cholera  (June  10th),  and  a  few  weeks  afterwards 
the  grand-duke  Constantino  died  at  Vitebsk.  On  February 
36,  1832,  Poland  was  declared  a  Russian  province. 

No  other  outbreak  occurred  till  18C3,  but  for  some 
time  previously  the  country  had  been  disturbed.  On  the 
29th  November  1860,  on  the  occasion  of  the  thirtieth 
anniversary  of  the  revolution  of  1830,  many  political 
manifestations  took  place  both  in  the  churches  and 
streets,  and  portraits  of  Kosciuszko  and  Kilinski,  a  patriot 
of  the  time  of  the  last  partition,  were  distributed.  Some 
riots  took  place,  and  unfortunately  several  persons  were 
killed.  These  proceedings  were  followed  by  concessions 
from  the  emperor  Alexander,  who  established  municipal 
institutions  in  Warsaw  and  the  chief  cities  of  the  king- 
dom. The  Russian  czar  was  acting  under  the  advice 
of  Wielopolski,  a  Pole,  who  was  appointed  director  of 
public  instruction  and  worship.  Riots,  however,  still 
continued,  and  in  1862  the  grand-duke  Constantino 
was  named  viceroy.  On  the  night  of  January  15,  1863, 
a  secret  conscription  was  held,  and  the  persons  sus-^ 
pected  of  being  most  hostile  to  the  Government  were 
dragged  from  their  beds  and  enlisted  as  soldiers.  Immedi- 
ately after  this  the  insurrection'  broke  out,  wTiich  was 
directed  by  a  secret  committee  (Rzad),  the  proceedings  of 
which  wore  as  mysterious  as  those  of  the  Fehmgerichte. 
Soon  after  bands  of  rebels  began  to  make  their  appearance 
in  the  Polish  forests.  There  were,  however,  no  regnlar 
battles  between  the  Russian  troops  and  the  Poles, — only 
guerilla  fighting,  in  which  the  Poles,  under  the  greatest 
a isad vantages,  showed  splendid  heroism.  The  secret 
emissaries  of  the  revolutionary  Government,  armed  with 
daggers,  succeeded  in  putting  to  death  many  Russian 
npies — not  the  least  memorable  case  being  that  of  the 
Jew  Herman!,  stabbed  while  on  the  staircase  of  the 
H6tol  de  I'Europe  at  Warsaw.  On  the  other  hand  the 
chaefs  of  the  insurgents  captured  were  shot  or  hanged. 
Langiewicz  held  out  for  some  time,  but  was  defeated  by 
the  Russians,  and  succeeded  in  making  his  escape  into 
Galicia.  A  reign  of  terror  was  inaugurated  by  General 
Mouraviefl,  and  all  attempts  at  reconciliation  made  by  the 
great  powers  of  Europe  were  useless.  By  May  1864  the 
rebellion  was  quite  suppressed,  and  it  will  be  seen  by  the 
results  that  it  cost  Poland  dear.  The  kingdom  of  Poland 
now  ceased  to  exist ;  it  has  been  parcelled  out  into  six 
governments.  The  Russian  language  was  ordered  to  bo- 
used in  all  public  documents  instead  of  Polish,  and  the 
university  of  Warsaw  has  been  Russified,  all  lectures  now 
being  delivered  in  that  language. 

We  have  not  dwelt  upon  the  terrible  massacres  of  the 
Polish  nobles  by  the  peasants  in  Galicia  in  1846,  said  to 
have  been  instigated  by  the  Austrian  Government.  This 
;>rovincc  has  been  tolerably  quiet  since,  but  the  Poles  have 
to  struggle  with  the  largo  Ruthonian  or  Red-Russian  po[>u- 
lation,  speaking  a  different  language,  and  adherents  of  the 
Greek  Church  or  TJniates. 

In  Prussian  Poland,  though  it  is  bi)t  fair  to  add  that  wo 
hear  no  stories  of  massacres,  the  Gcrnianization  of  the  pro- 
vince has  been  more  complete.  Posen  will  soon  bo  lost  as 
ii  Polish  town,  and  many  historical  places  have  had  their 
names  obliterated  for  such  substitutes  as  Bismarcksdorf 
und  Sedan. 

PoUSn  LlTERAXTTRE. 

The  Polish  Langusige,  according  to  the  latest  statistics,  ia 
stiU  spoken  by  nearly  ten  millions  of  people,  di-stributed, 
according  to  the  Revue  Slave  (Warsaw,  1878,  vol.  i.  p.  78), 
as  follows:— in  Russia,  4,610,000;  in  Austria,  2,444,200; 
in  Prussia,  2,405,800;  in  Turkey,  10,000.  It  belongs  to 
the  western  branch  of  the  Slavor.ic  tonyues,  and  exhibits 


the  closest  afSnities  with  the  Czech  or  Bohemian  and 
Lusatian  Wendish  (see  Slavonic  Languages).  Unlike 
the  people  of  other  Slavonic  countries,  the  Poles  are  com- 
paratively poor  in  popular  and  legendary  poetry,  but  such 
compositions  undoubtedly  existed  in  early  times,  as  may 
be  seen  by  the  writings  of  their  chroniclers ;  thus  Gallus 
translated  into  Latin  a  poem  written  on  Boloslaw  the 
Brave,  and  a  few  old  Polish  songs  are  included  in  Wojcicki's 
Library  of  Ancient  Writeri.  A  great  deal  of  the  early 
literature  written  in  Poland  is  in  Latin..  The  earliest 
specimen  of  the  Polish  language  is  the  so-called  Psalter  of 
Queen  Margaret,  discovered  in  1826  at  the  convent  of  St 
Florian.  The  dat«  of  the  MS.  appears  to  be  the  middle 
of  the  14th  century,  and  probably  in  its  present  form  it 
is  only  a  copy  of  a  much  older  text ;  there  is  also  a  trans- 
lation of  the  fiftieth  psalm  belonging  to  the  13th  cen- 
tury.^ The  ancient  Polish  hymn  or  war  song,  "Piesn  Boga 
Rodzica,"  was  an  address  to  the  Virgin,  sung  by  the  Poles 
when  about  to  fight.  The  oldest  manuscript  of  this  pro- 
duction is  dated  1408,  and  is  preserved  at  Cracow.  By 
a  legend  which  subsequently  grew  up  the  composition  of 
it  was  assigned  to  St  Adalbert.  John  Lodzia,  bishop  of 
Posen  from  1335  to  1346,  composed  several  religious  songs 
in  Latin. 

The  next  monument  of  Polish  literature  to  which  we 
come  is  the  Bible  of  Queen  Sophia  or  Bible  of  Szarosz- 
patak.  It  is  imperfect,  and  only  contains  the  early  books 
viz.,  the  Pentateuch,  Joshua,  Ruth,  and  Kings ;  there  are 
however,  fragments  of  three  others.  It  is  said  to  have 
been  written  for  Sophia,  the  fourth  wife  of  Jagiello,  about 
the  year  1455.  It  has  been  edited  with  great  care  by 
Matecki.  Five  religious  songs  in  Polish  dating  from  the 
15th  century  have  been  preserved;  the j' are  ascribed  to 
Andrew  Slopuchowski,  prior  of  the  monastery  of  the  Holy 
Cross  on  Lysa  G6ra.  There  is  also  the  fragment  of  a 
hymn  in  praise  of  Wickliffe.  To  these  fragments  may  be 
added  the  prayer  book  of  a  certain  Waclaw,  a  sermon  on 
marriage,  and  some  Polish  glosses.  These  are  all  the  exist- 
ing memorials  of  the  Polish  language  before  the  16tb 
century. 

Perh(ips  a  few  words  should  be  said  concerning  theTh« 
writers  in  Latin.  Martin  Gallus  lived  in  Poland  between  1*^'" 
1110  and  1 135.  From  his  name  he  has  been  supposed  by  ■^"'' 
some  to  have  been  a  Frenchman,  and  wo  must  remember 
that  Poland  swarmed  at  that  time  with  foreign  ecclesias- 
tics. Lelewel,  the  Polish  historian,  considers  that  it  is 
merely  a  translation  into  Latin  of  some  such  name  as 
Kura,  signifying  "a  fowl."  Others  suppose  him  to  have 
been  an  Italian,  or  a  monk  from  the  convent  of  St  Gall  iu 
Switzerland.  He  has  plenty  of  legends  to  tell  us,  and 
writes  altogether  in  a  poetical  style,  so  that  his  prose  seems 
to  fall  into  rhythm  unconsciously.  His  quotations  from 
the  classics,  Sallust,  Lucan,  and  others,  show  tlio  extent  ot 
his  reading.  Gallus  was  followed  by  Matthew  Cliolewa  and 
Vincent  Kadlubck,  two  bishops  of  Cracow,  ami  liogufal  or 
Bnguchwal  (Gottlob),  bisho])  of  Posen,  who  all  used  Latin. 
The  work  of  Kadlubck  is  more  ornate  in  diction  than  that 
of  Bogufal  and  for  a  long  time  enjoyed  great  popularity.  Ho 
was  born  in  1160,  educated  at  the  university  of  Paris,  and 
died  in  Poland  in  1223,asaCistorcian  monk.  His  I^tin, like 
that  of  Gallus,  is  far  from  classical,  but  ho  writes  with  spirit 
and  throws  a  good  deal  of  light  upon  the  events  of  his  lime. 
Tho  education  of  the  country  was  wholly  in  the  bands  of 
the  ecclesiastics,  many  of  whom  were  foreigners.  In  this 
way  wo  must  explain  tho  great  prevalence  of  th(i  Latin 
language.  Such  a  system  would  be  sure  to  stino  all 
national  outgrowth,  and  accordingly  wo  have  among  the 

'  Tho  Ps»Iter  !•  c»11od  nfter  M»ntiir«l,  tlm  flrtt  wlfo  of  Klnft  Loai«, 
who  iliod  hi  IIUO,  by  a  mcro  rnDJi'cturc.  Cam  thinks  It  more  probable 
lliat  Ihn  book  bilonjcd  to  Mnry,  hi«  ilauf^btcr. 


300 


POLAND 


[literature. 


iPolcs  none  of  those  eariy  monuments  of  the  language  which 
other  countries  boast.  For  instance,  there  are  no  btlirii  or 
legendary  poems,  such  as  are  found  among  the  Russians, 
altliough  many  passages  in  the  ancient  chroniclers  from 
their  poetical  colouring  seem  to  be  borrowed  from  old 
songs  or  legends,  and  the  first  verses  of  some  of  these 
compositions  have  been  preserved.  Mention  may  here  be 
made  of  other  chroniclers  such  as  Martin  the  Pole  (Polonus), 
who  died  in  1279  or  1280,  and  Jan  of  Czarnkow,  who  died 
in  1389  ;  the  latter  was  the  historian  and  panegyrist  of 
Kazimierz  the  Great.  With  the  reign  of  Kazimierz  III. 
(1333-1370)  must  be  associated  the  statutes  of  Wislica. 
Jadwiga,  the  wife  of  Jagielto,  was  mainly  instrumental  in 
creating  the  university  of  Cracow,  which  was  not  founded, 
however,  till  1400.  In  this  institution  for  many  years  all 
tlie  great  men  of  Poland  were  trained — among  others 
Gregory  of  Sanok,  Dlugosz,  and  Copernicus.  Kazimierz 
the  Great  may  be  said  to  have  laid  the  foundation  of  this 
university.  Having  obtained  the  consent  of  Pope  Urban 
v.,  he  establislied  at  Cracow  a  studiiim  ffenerale  on  the 
'fhodel  of  the  university  of  Bologna.  It  consisted  of  three 
'faculties — Roman  law,  medicine,  and  philosophy.  But  the 
aristocratic  youth  still  preferred  frequenting  the  universities 
of  Prague,  Padua,  and  Paris,  and  accordingly  the  newly- 
founded  studium  languished.  Jadwiga,  however,  obtained 
from  Boniface  IX.  permission  to  create  a  new  chair,  that 
,of  theology  ;  and  the  university  of  Cracow  was  remodelled, 
Laving  been  reorganized  on  the  same  basis  as  that  of  Paris. 
'Another  university  was  founded  later  at  Vilna  by  Batory, 
and  one  at  Zamosc  by  the  chancellor  Zamoiski.  There 
were  also  good  schools  in  various  places,  such  as  the 
Collegium  Lubranskiego  of  Posen  and  the  school  of  St 
Mary  at  Cracow.  In  the  year  1474  a  press  was  set  up  in 
the  latter  city,  where  Giinther  Zainer  printed  the  first  book. 
The  first  press  from  which  books  in  the  Polish  language 
appeared  was  that  of  Hieronymus  Wietor,  a  Silesian,  who 
commenced  publishing  in  1515.  A  few  fragments  printed 
in  Polish  had  appeared  before  tliis,  as  the  Lord's  Prayer  in 
the  statutes  of  the  bishops  of  Breslau  in  1475,  the  story  of 
Pope  Urban  in  Latin,  German,  and  Polish  in  1505,  (fcc. ; 
but  the  first  complete  work  in  the  Polish  language  appeared 
from  the  press  of  this  printer  at  Cracow  in  1521,  under  the 
title  Speeches  of  the  Wise  King  Solomon.  The  translation 
was  executed  by  Jan  Koszycki,  as  the  printer  inf-orms  us  in 
the  preface,  and  the  work  is  dedicated  to  Anna  Wojnicka, 
the  wife  of  a  castellan.  In  1522,  a  Polish  translation  of 
Ecclesiastes  appeared  from  that  press,  and  before  the  con- 
clusion of  that  year  The  Life  of  Christ,  with  Woodcuts, 
translated  into  Polish  by  Balthasar  Opeo  Many  other 
presses  were  soon  established.  Printers  of  repute  at  Cra- 
cow, during  the  16th  and  beginning  of  the  17th  century, 
were  Sybeueicher  and  Piotrkowczyk. 

Little  as  yet  had  been  produced  in  Polish,  as  the 
chroniclers  still  adhered  to  Latin ;  and  here  mention  must 
be  made  of  Jan  Dlugosz,  who  called  himself  Longinus. 
He  was  bishop  of  Lemberg,  the  capital  of  Galicia,  and  has 
left  us  a  very  valuable  history  which  has  merits  of  style 
and  shows  considerable  research.  So  anxious  was  Dlugosz 
to  make  his  work  as  perfect  as  he  could  that  he  learned 
Russian  so  as  to  be  able  to  read  the  Chronicle  of  Nestor. 
The  best  part  of  his  book  is  that  which  treats  of  the 
period  between  1386  and  1480.  About  1500  was  wrttten 
an  interesting  little  work  entitled  "  Memoirs  of  a  Polish  • 
Janissary "  (PamieiniH  lanczara  Polal-a).  Although 
written  in  the  Polish  language,  i±  was  probably  the  pro- 
duction of  a  Serb,  Michael  Konstantinorich  of  Ostro- 
vitza.  He  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Turks  in  1455  and 
served  ten  years  among  the  Janissaries,  after  which  he 
escaped  into  Hungary.  About  this  time  also  flourished 
Nicholas  Copernicus,  a  native  of  Thorn,  one  of  the  few 


Poles  who  have  made  themselves  known  beyond  the  limits 
of  their  country. 

The  Poles  call  the  period  between  1548  and  1606  their 
golden^ age.  Poland  was  the  great  land  of  eastern  Europe, 
and  owing  to  the  universal  toleration  encouraged  by  the 
Government  Protestantism  was  widely  spread.  Many  of 
the  chief  nobility  were  Calvinists,  and  the  Socini  came  to 
reside  in  the  country.  All  this,  however,  was  to  pass  away 
under  the  great  Jesuit' reaction.  At  Rakow  in  Poland  was 
published  the  catechism  of  the  Socinian  doctrines  in  1605. 
The  Jesuits  made  their  appearance  in  Poland  in  1564,  and 
soon  succeeded  in  getting  the  schools  of  the  country  into 
their  hands.  Besides  extirpating  the  various  sects  of  Pro- 
testants, they  also  busied  themselves  with  destroying  the 
Greek  Church  in  Lithuania.  Latin  poetry  was  cultivated 
with  great  success  by  Clement  Janicki  (1516-1543),  but 
the  earliest  poet  of  repute  who  wrote  in  Polish  is  Rej  of 
Nagtowice  (1505-69).  After  a  somewhat  idle  youth  he 
betook  himself  to  poetry.  He  was  a  Protestant,  and  among 
other  religious  works  translated  the  Psalms.  His  best 
work  was  Zwierciadio  albo  zywol  Poczciwego  Cdowieka 
("  The  Mirror  or  Life  of  an  Honourable  Man"), — a  some- 
what tedious  didactic  piece.  He  was  also  the  author 
of  a  kind  of  play — a  mystery  we  may  term  it,  ana 
productions  of  this  sort  seem  to  have  been  common  it 
Poland  from  a  very  early  time — entitled  Life  of  Joseph  ir<. 
Egypt.  This  piece  is  interesting  merely  from  an  anti- 
quarian point  of  view;  there  is  but  little  poetry  in  it. 
It  teems  with  anachronisms ;  thus  we  have  mention  of 
the  mass  and  organs,  and  also  of  a  German  servant. 

Jan  Kochanowski  (1530-1584),  called  the  prince  of 
Polish  poets,  came  of  a  poetical  family,  having  a  brother, 
a  cousin,  and  a  nephew  who  all  enriched  the  literature 
of  their  country  with  some  productions.  Kochanowski 
studied  for  some  time  at  the  university  of  Padua,  and  also 
resided  in  Paris,  where  he  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Ronsard,  then  one  of  the  most  celebrated  poets.  He 
exercised  his  talents  in  various  ways  ;  thus  he  has  left  The 
Game  of  Chess,  an  imitation  of  Vida,  and  Proporzec  albo 
Hold  Prushi  ("  The  Standard  or  Investiture  of  Prussia  "), 
where  he  describes  the  fealty  done  by  Albert  of  Brandenburg 
to  Sigismund  Augustus.  He  also  wrote  the  first  regular 
play,  and  executed  a  translation  of  the  Psalms.  The  title 
of  his  play — a  piece  of  one  act,  with  twelve  scenes — is 
Tlie  Despatch  of  the  Greek  Ambassadors.  It  is  written  in 
rhymeless  five-foot  iambics,  and  is  altogether  a  product  of 
the  Renaissance,  reminding  us  of  some  of  the  productions 
of  George  Buchanan.  Rhyme  is  employed  in  the  choruses 
only.  It  was  acted  on  the  marriage  of  the  chancellor  Jan 
Zamoiski  with  Christine  Radziwitt,  in  the  presence  of  King 
Stephen  and  his  wife,  at  Ujazdowo  near  Warsaw,  in  1578. 
The  poet's  most  popular  work,  however,  is  his  Treriy  or 
"  Lamentations,"  written  on  the  death  of  his  daughte' 
L^rsula.  These  beautiful  elegies  have  been  justly  praised 
by  Mickiewicz  ;  they  are  enough  to  raise  Kochanowski  far 
above  the  level  of  a  merely  artificial  poet.  Besides  poem? 
in  Polish,  he  also  wrote  some  in  Latin.  It  will  be  observe< 
that  we  get  this  double-sided  authorship  in  many  Polish 
writers.  They  composed  for  an  exclusive  and  learned 
circle,  certainly  not  for  the  Jew,  the  German  trader  of  the 
town,  or  the  utterly  illiterate  peasant.  It  may  be  said 
with  truth  of  Kochanowski  that,  although  the  form  of  his 
poetry  is'  classical  and  imitated  from  classical  writers,  the 
matter  is  Polish,  and  there  is  much  national  feeling  in  what 
he  has  left  us.  Mention  must  also  be  made  of  his  epigrams, 
which  he  styled  "  Trifles  "  (Fraszki) ;  they  are  full  of  spirit 
and  geniality.  Stanislaus  Grochowski  (1554-1612)  was  a 
priest ;  but  his  poetry  is  of  little  merit,  although  he  was 
celebrated  in  his  time  as  a  WTiter  of  panegyrics.  His  satire 
Babie  Kolo  ("  The  Women's  Circle  ")  gave  offence  on  account 


» 


Kocha* 
owski' 


uteratukf;.] 


1'  O  L  A  N   D 


301 


of  its  personalities.  A  great  partisan  of  the  Catholics  in 
the  time  of  Sigismund  III.  was  Caspar  Miaskowski,  whose 
W<drta  H7o5."-J'/reows^-a(" Farewell  tu  his  Native  Country") 
<leserves  mention.  Szarzynski,  who  died  young  in  1581, 
deserves  notice  as  having  introduced  the  sonnet  to  the 
Coles.  This  s)jecics  of  poetry  was  afterward  to  be  carried 
>o  great  perfection  by  Mickiewicz  and  Gaszynski. 

Szymonowicz  (1554-1624)  was  a  writer  of  good  pas- 
torals. Although  they  are  imitated  from  classical  writers, 
Le  has  introduced  many  scenes  of  national  life,  which 
he  describes  with  much  vigour.  Among  the  best  are 
"The  Lovers,"  "The  Eeapers,"  and  "The  Cake"  (Koiacz). 
Mickiewicz  is  very  loud  in  his  praise,  and  considers  him 
one  of  the  best  followers  of  Theocritus.  The  condition, 
however,  of  the  Polish  peasants  was  too  miserable  to 
admit  of  their  being  easily  made  subjects  for  bucolic 
poetry.  There  is  an  artificial  air  about  the  idyls  of 
Szymonowicz  which  makes  one  feel  too  keenly  that  they 
are  jiroduetions  of  the  Renaissance ;  one  of  their  best 
features  is  the  humane  spirit  towards  the  miserable 
peasantry  which  they  everywhere  display.  Another  e.x- 
cellent  writer  of  pastorals  was  Zimorowicz,  a  native  of 
Lemberg,  who  died  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-five.  Some 
of  his  short  lyrics  are  very  elegant,  and  remind  us  of 
Herrick  and  Carew, — e.g.,  that  beginning  "Ukochana 
Lancelloto  !  Ciebie  nie  prosz§  o  ztoto."  Another  writer 
of  pastorals,  but  not  of  equal  merit,  was  Jan  Gawinski,  a 
native  of  Cracow.  Some  good  Latin  poetry  was  written 
by  Casimir  Sarbiewski,  better  known  in  the  west  of  Europe 
as  Sarbievius  (d.  1640).  He  was  considered  to  have 
approached  Horace  more  nearly  than  any  other  modern 
poet,  and  a  gold  medal  was  given  him  by  Pope  Urban 
VIIL  JIartin  Kromer  (1512-1589)  wrote  a  history  of 
Poland  in  thirty  books,  and  another  volume,  giving  a 
de.scrii)tion  of  the  country  and  its  institutions, — both  in 
Latin.  The  history  is  written  in  an  easy  style  and  is 
a  work  of  great  merit.  A  poet  of  some  importance  was 
Klonowicz  ( 1545-1 G02),  who  Latinized  his  name  into 
Acernus,  Klon  being  the  Polish  for  maple,  and  wrote  in 
both  Latin  and  Polish.  Sometimes  he  is  descriptive,  as  in 
bis  Polish  poem  entitled  /'7/,s  ("The  Boatman"),  in  which  he 
gives  a  detailed  account  of  the  scenery  on  the  banks  of  the 
Vistula.  There  is  some  poetry  in  this  composition,  but  it 
alternates  with  very  prosaic  details.  In  another  piece, 
Rlioxolanin,  in  Latin,  he  describes  the  beauties  of  Galicia. 
Occasionally  he  is  didactic,  as  in  Worek  Judaszow  ("  The 
Pag  of  Judas")  and  Victoria  Deorum,  where,  under  the 
allegory  of  the  gods  of  Olympus,  he  represents  the  struggles 
of  parties  in  Poland,  not  without  severely  satirizing  the 
nobility  and  ecclesiastics.  A  curious  work  called  Quincunx, 
written  by  Orzechowski,  is  concerned  with  religious  pol- 
emics. Andrew  !Mcdrzewski,  a  Protestant,  in  his  work 
De  liepul/lica  Emendanda  (1551),  recommended  the 
establishment  of  a  national  church  which  should  be 
indei)endent  of  Rome,  something  upon  the  model  of  the 
Anglican. 

A  florid  Jesuitical  style  of  oratory  became  very  popular 
in  the  time  of  Sigismund  III.,  not  without  rhetorical 
power,  but  frequently  becoming  tawdry.  The  chief  repre- 
sentative of  this  school  was  Peter  Skarga,  one  of  the  main 
agents  in  extirpating  Calvinism  in  Poland  and  the  Greek 
Church  in  Lithuania.  Among  his  numerous  writings  may 
bo  mentioned  Lives  of  (he  Saints,  Discourses  071  the  Seve/i 
Sacraments,  and  especially  his  .sermons  pleached  before  the 
■diet,  in  which  ho  lashed  the  Poles  for  their  want  of 
patriotism  and  prophesied  the  downfall  of  tho  country. 
Mecherzynski,  in  his  "  History  of  Eloquence  in  Poland  " 
(llistorya  Wymoicy  w  Polsce),  especially  praises  his  two 
funeral  sermons  on  the  burial  of  Anna  Jagieltonka,  widow 
of  Ste])hcn  Batory,  and  Anna  of   Austria,  first  wife  of 


Sigismund  III.  Besides  the  Latin  histories  of  AVapowski 
and  Gwagnin  (Guagnini,  of  Italian  origin),  we  have  the 
first  historical  work  in  Polish  by  Martin  Bielski,  a  Pro- 
testant, viz.,  Kronika  Polska,  which  was  afterwards  con- 
tinued by  his  son.  The  author  was  born  in  1495  on  his 
father's  estate,  Biata,  and  was  educated,  like  so  many  other 
of  his  illustrious  contemporaries,  at  the  university  of  Cra- 
cow. He  lived  to  the  age  of  eighty;  but,  however  great 
were  the  merits  of  his  Chronicle,  it  was  long  considered  a 
suspicious  book  on  account  of  the  leanings  of  the  author  to 
Calvinism.  After  his  death  his  work  was  continued  by 
his  son  Joachim  (1540-1699).  There  is  also  a  C/ironic/e 
by  Bartholomew  Paprocki.  In  1582  was  also  published 
tlie  Chronicle  of  Stryjkowski,  full  of  curious  learning,  and 
still  of  great  use  to  the  student  of  history.  Five  years 
later  appeared  the  Annates  Polonix  of  Sarnicki.  The 
last  three  works  are  in  Latin. 

A  few  words  may  be  said  here  about  the  spread  of 
Protestantism  in  Poland,  whici  is  so  intimately  mixed  up 
with  the  development  of  the  national  language.  The 
doctrines  of  Huss  had  entered  the  country  in  very  early 
times,  and  we  find  Polish  recensions  of  Bohemian  hymns ; 
even  the  hymn  to  the  Virgin  previously  mentioned  is  sup- 
posed to  have  a  Czech  basis.  The  bishops  were  soon  active 
against  those  who  refused  to  conform  to  the  doctrines  of 
the  Roman  Church.  Thus  we  find  that  Bishop  Andrew 
of  Bnin  seized  five  Hussite  priests  and  caused  them  to  be 
burnt  in  the  market  of  Posen  in  1439.  A  hundred  years 
afterwards  a  certain  Katharina  Malcher,  on  account  of  her 
Utraquist  opinions,  was  condemned  by  Gamrat,  the  bishop 
of  Cracow,  to  be  burnt,  which  sentence  was  accordingly 
carried  out  in  the  ragmarket  at  Cracow.  As  early  as 
1530  Lutheran  hymns  were  sung  in  the  Polish  language 
at  Thorn.  In  Konigsberg  John  Seklucyan,  a  personal 
friend  of  Luther,  published  a  collection  of  Christian  Songs. 
He  was  born  in  Great  Poland,  and  was  at  first  a  Roman 
Catholic  priest  in  Posen,  but  afterwards  embraced  the 
Protestant  faith  and  was  invited  by  Duke  Albert  as  a 
preacher  to  Konigsberg,  where  he  died  in  1578.  He  exe- 
cuted the  first  translation  of  the  New  Testament  iji  1551. 
Four  years  afterwards  appeared  a  complete  Polisli  Bible 
published  by  Scharft'cnberg  at  Cracow.  In  1553  appeared 
at  Brzes'd  the  Protestant  translation  of  the  whole  Bible 
made  by  a  committee  of  learned  men  and  divines,  and 
published  at  the  expense  of  Nicholas  Radziwitt,  a  very 
rich  Polish  magnate  who  had  embraced  the  Protestant 
doctrines.  This  book  is  now  of  great  rarity  because  hia 
son  Christopher,  having  been  induced  to  become  a  Roman ' 
Catholic  by  the  Jesuit  Skarga,  caused  all  copies  of  his 
father's  Bible  whk;h  he  could  find  to  be  burnt.  One,  how- 
ever, is  to  be  seen  in  the  Bodleian  Library,  and  another 
in  tho  library  of  Christ  Church,  at  Oxford.  A  Socinian 
Bible  was  issued  by  Simon  Budny  in  1570  at  Nics'wiez, 
as  he  professed  to  find  many  faults  in  tho  version 
issued  under  the  patronage  oT  Radziwill ;  in  1597  ap- 
peared the  Roman  Catholic  version  of  the  Jesuit  Wujek  ; 
and  in  1032  tho  so-called  Dantzic  Bible,  which  is  in 
use  among  Protestants  and  is  still  the  most  frequently 
reprinted. 

Up  to  this  time  Polish  literature,  although  frequently 
rhetorical  and  too  much  tinctured  with  classical  inlluence* 
had  still  exhibited  signs  of  genius.  But  now,  owing 
to  the  frivolous  studies  introduced  by  tho  Jesuits,  tho 
so-called  macaronic  period  supervened,  which  lasted 
from  1606  to  1764,  and  was  a  time  of  great  degradation 
for  tho  language  and  literature.  The  former  was  nowr 
mixed  with  Latin  and  classical  oxpre9.sion8 ;  much  of 
the  literature  consists  of  fulsome  panegyric,  verses  written 
on  the  marriages  and  funerals  of  nobles,  with  conceits 
and  fantastic  ideas,  devoid  of  all  taste,  drawn  from  their 


602 


POLAND 


[literature. 


coats  of  arms.     The"  poets 'of  "this  period  ~  are,  as  may' 
be    imagined,  in   most  cases  mere  rhymsters ;  there  are, 
however,  a   few  whose  names   are  worth   recapitulating, 
such  as  Wactaw  Potocki  (c.  1622-c.  1696),  now  known 
to  have  been  the  author  of  the  Wojjia  Chocimsht,  or  "  War 
of  Khotin,"  the  same  campaign  which  afterwards  formed 
the  subject  of  the  epic  of  Krasicki.     At  first  the  author 
was  supposed  to  have  been  Andrew  Mpski,  but  the  real 
poet  was  traced  by  the  historian  Szajnocha.     The  epic, 
which   remained   in   manuscript   till   1850,  is  a  genuine 
representation  of  Polish  life ;   no  picture  so  faithful  -ap- 
peared  till    the  Pan  Tadeusz  of  Jlickiewicz.       Moreover 
Potocki  had  the  good  taste  to  avoid  the  macaronic  style 
60  much  in  vogue  ;  his  language  is  pure   and  vigorous. 
He  does  not  hesitate   to  introduce  occasionally  satirical 
remarks  on  the  luxury  of  the  times,  which  he  compares, 
to  its  disadvantage,  with  the  simplicity  of  the  old  Polish 
life.      There  is  also  another  poem  attributed  to  Potocki 
called  the  New  Mercury.     In  one  passage  he  censures  King 
Michael  for  ceding  Podolia  to  the  Turks.     Samuel  Twar- 
dowski  (1600-1660)  was  the  most  prolific  poet  of  the 
period   of    the   Vasas.      His   most   important    poem    ia 
Wiodysiaw  IV.,  King  of  Poland,  in  which  he  sings  in  a 
very  bombastic  strain  the  various  expeditions  of  the  Polish 
monarch.     A  bitter   satirist  appeared  in   the   person   of 
Christopher  Opalinski  (1609-1656).    His  works  were  pub- 
lished under  the  title  of  Juvenalis  Redivivus,  and,  although 
boasting  but  little   poetical  merit,  give  us  veiy  curious 
pictures  of  the  times.    Vespasian  Kochowski  (born  between 
1630  and  1633,  died  in  1699)  was  a  soldier-poet,  who  went 
through  the  campaigns  against  the  Swedes  and  Cossacks ; 
he  has  left  several  books  of  lyrics  full  of  vivacity.    Another 
poet  was  Andrew  Morsztyn  (born  about  1620,  died  about 
the  commencement  of  the  18th  century),  an  astute  courtier, 
who  was  finance  minister  (podskdrbi)  under  John  Casimir, 
and  was  a  devoted  adherent  of  the  French  party  at  court, 
m  consequence  of  which,  in  the  reign  of  Sobieski,  he  was 
compelled  to  leave  his  native  country  and  settle  in  France 
(see  p.290).  His  poems  are  elegant  and  free  from  the  conceits 
and  pedantry  of  the  earlier  writers.     In  fact,  he  introduced 
into  Poland  the  easy  French  manner  of  such  writers  as 
Voiture.     He  translated  the  Cid  of  Corneille,  and  wrote  a 
poem  on  the  subject  of  Psyche,  based  upon  the  well-known 
Greek   myth.      History  in  the  macaronic  period  made  a 
backward  step :  it  had  been  written  in  the  Polish  language 
in   the   golden-  age;   it  was  now  again  to  take  a  Latin 
form,  as  in  the  Chronica  Gestartim  in  Europa  Singularium 
•  of  the  ecclesiastic  Paul  Piasecki  (1580-1649),  who  is  an 
authority  for  the  reigns  of  Sigismund  III.  and  Wtadyslaw 
IV.,  and  Rudawski,  who  describes  events  from  the  acces- 
sion of  John  Casimir  to  the  peace  of  Oliwa  (1648-1660) ; 
and  as  valuable  materials  for  history  may  be  mentioned 
the  five   huge   volumes    of  Andrew  Chrysostom   Zaluski 
(1711),  bishop  of  Warniia.     This  work  is  entitled \£juis<o/a! 
/listorico-Familiares.     It  would  be  impossible  to  recapitu- 
late here  the  great  quantity  of  material  in  the  shape  of 
memoirs  which  has   come   down,  but  mention  must   be 
made  of  those  of  John  Chrysostom  Pasek,  a  nobleman  of 
!Masovia,  who  has  left  us  very  graphic  accounts  of  life  and 
society  in   Poland ;    after  a  variety  of   adventures  and 
many  a  weU-fought  battle,  he  returned  to  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Cracpw,  where  he  died  between  1699  and  1701. 
Some  of  the  most  characteristic  stories  Ulustratir.g  Polish 
history  are  di'awn  from  this  book.     A  later  period,  that  of 
the  miserable  epoch  of  Augustus  III.,  is  described  very 
graphically  in  the  memoirs  of  Matuszewicz,  first  edited  by 
Pawinski   at   Warsaw  in    1876.     Relating   to   the   same 
period  are  also  the  memoirs  of  Bartholomew  Michalowski 
{Pamietniki  Bartlomieja  Michaloivskiego).     A  curious  in- 
sight into_the  course  of  education  which  a  young  Polish 


nobleman  underwent  is  furnished  oy  the  instructions 
which  James  Sobieski,  the  father  of  the  .celebrated  John, 
gave  to  Orchowski  the  tutor  of  his  sons.  This  has  been 
twice  printed  in  comparatively  recent  times  {Instrukeya 
Jakoha  Sobieskiego  kasztelana  Krakowskiego  dana  panu 
Orchowskiemu  ze  strony  synow,  Vilna,  1840).  The  old 
gentleman  in  his  aristocratic  imperiousness  frequently 
reminds  us  of  the  amusing  directions  given  by  Sir  John 
Wynne  to  his  chaplain,  quoted  in  Pennaut's  Tour  in  Waleis. 

A  History  of  the  Lithuanians  in  Latin  was  published 
by  the  Jesuit  Koialowicz ;  the  first  volume  appeared  at 
Dantzic  in  1650.  A  valuable  work  on  the  condition 
of  Poland  was  written  by  Stanistaw  Leszczynski,  who 
T/as  twice  chosen  king,  entitled  Gfos  toolny  wolnoic 
vbezpieczajacy  ("  A  Free  Voice  Guaranteeing  Freedom "), 
where  he  teUs  the  Poles  some  homely  and  perhaps  dis- 
agrojable  truths  illustrating  the  maxim  Summa  libeHas 
etiam  pierire  volentibus. 

A  notable  man  was  Joseph  Andrew  Zaluski,  bishop  of 
Kieff,  a  Pole  who  had  become  thoroughly  Frenchified, — so 
much  so  that  he  preached  in  French  to  the  fashionable 
congregStions  of  Warsaw.  He  collected  a  splendid  library 
of  about  300,000  volumes  and  15,000  manuscripts,  which 
he  bequeathed  to  the  Polish  nation ;  but  it  was  afterwards 
carried  oS  to  St  Petersburg,  where  it  formed  the  founda- 
tion of  the  imperial  public  library.  According  to  Nitsch- 
mann  in  his  Geschichte  der  Polnischen  Litteratur — a  work 
which  has  been  of  service  in  the  preparation  of  this 
article — the  books  were  transported  to  Jlussia  very  care- 
lessly, and  many  of  them  injured  by  the  way.  It  was 
especially  rich  in  works  relating  to  Polish  history,  Kon- 
arski  edited  in  six  volumes  a  valuable  work  entitled 
Voltunina  Legvm,  containing  a  complete  collection  of 
Polish  laws  frorm  the  time  of  the  statute  of  Wislica.  He 
did  much  good  also  in  founding  throughout  the  country 
schools  for  the  education  of  the  s6ns  of  the  upper  classes, 
but  as  yet  nothing  had  been  done  for  popular  education 
properly  so-called.  About  the  close  of  this  period  we 
have  some  valuable  writers  on  Polish  history,  which  now 
began  to  be  studied  critically,  such  as  Hartknoch  in  his 
Alt-  und  Neues  Preussen  (1684),  a  work  in  which  are  pre- 
served interesting  specimens  of  the  old  Prussian  language, 
and  Lengnich  (1689-1774),  author  of  the  valuable  Jus 
Publicum  Regni  Polonix,  which  appeared  in  1742. 

We  now  come  to  the  reign  of  the  last  Polish  king,  Stan- 
istaw Poniatowski,  and  the  few  quiet  years  before  the  final 
division  of  the  country,  during  which  the  French  taste 
was  all-powerful.  This  is  the  second  great  period  of  the 
development  of  PoUsh  literature,  which  has  known  nothing 
of  mediceval  romanticism.  The  literature  of  the  first  or 
Renaissance  period  gives  us  some  good  poets,  who  although 
occasionally  imitators  are  not  without  national  feeling,  and 
a  goodly  array  of  chroniclers,  most  of  whom  made  use  of 
Latin.  In  the  second  or  French  period  we  get  verse- 
makers  rather  than  poets,  who  long  to  be  Frenchmen,  and 
sigh  over  the  barbarism  of  their  country  ;  but  the  study  of 
history  in  a  critical  spirit  is  beginning  under  the  influence 
of  Naruszewicz,  Albertrandi,  and  others.  In  the  third 
period,  that  of  modern  romanticism,  we  get  true  national- 
ism, but  it  is  too  often  the  literature  of  exile  and  despair. 
Here  may  be  mentioned,  although  living  a  little  time 
before  the  reign  of  Stanistaw,  a  Polish  poetess,  Elizabeth 
Druzbacka  (1695-1760),  whose  writings  show  a  feeling 
for  nature  at  a  time  when  verse-making  of  the  most 
artificial  type  was  prevalent  throughout  the  couirtry.. 
The  portrait  prefixed  to  the  Leipsic  edition  of  her 
works  is  a  striking  one,  representing  a  handsome,  intel- 
lectual-looking woman,  dressed  in  the  garb  of  some 
religious  order.  Her  Life  of  David  in  verse  appears 
tedious,    but   manyj.of^the   descriptions  in   the  lieasuns 


% 


LITBRATURE.] 


POLAND 


3o;i 


are  elegant.  Unfortunately  she  introduces  Latinisms, 
so  that  her  Polish  is  by  no  means  pure.  A  national 
theatre  was  founded  at  Warsaw  in  1765  under  the 
influence  of  the  court,  but  it  was  not  till  long  after- 
wards that  anything  really  natioual  connected  with  the 
drama  appeared  in  Poland.  Thomas  Kajetan  W^gierski, 
who  was  chamberlain  to  the  king,  enjoyed  a  considerable 
reputation  among  his  countrymen  for  his  satirical  writing. 
He  was  a  kind  of  Polish  Churchill,  and  like  his  English 
parallel  died  young  (1755-1787).  His  life  also  appears 
to  have  been  as  irregular  as  Churchill's.  In  consequence 
of  an  attack  on  the  empress  of  Russia,  he  was  compelled 
to  leave  Poland,  and  accordingly  made  a  tour  in  Italy, 
France,  America,  and  England,  dying  at  JIarseilles  at  the 
early  age  of  thirty-three.  His  poetry  shows  the  influence 
of  the  French  taste,  then  prevalent  throughout  Europe.  In 
times  of  great  national  disasters  he  deserves  to  be  remem- 
bered as  a  true  patriot ;  but  the  spirit  of  his  poetry  is 
altogether  unwholesome.  It  is  the  wailing  cry  of  a  mori- 
bund nation.  The  great  laureate  of  the  court  of  Stanislaus 
was  Trembecki  (1722-1812),  whose  sympathies  were  too 
much  with  the  Eussian  invaders  of  his  country.  He  was 
little  more  than  a  fluent  poetaster,  ^nd  is  now  almost  for- 
gotten. One  of  his  most  celebrated  pieces  was  Zofjowka, 
written  on  the  country  seat  of  Felix  Potocki,  a  Polish 
magnate,  for  this  was  the  age  of  descriptive  as  well  ae 
didactic  poetry.  Perhaps  the  English  gave  the  hint  in 
such  productions  as  "  Cooper's  Hill."  The  old  age  of 
Trembecki  appears  to  have  been  ignoble  and  neglected ; 
he  had  indeed '" fallen  upon  evil  days  and  evil  tongues"; 
and  when  he  died  at  an  advanced  age  all  the  gay  courtiers 
of  whom  he  had  been  the  parasite  were  either  dead  or 
had  submitted  to  the  Muscovite  yoke.  He  comes  before 
us  as  a  belated  epicurean,  whose  airy  trifles  cannot  be 
warbled  in  an  atmosphere  surcharged  with  tempests  and 
gunpowder.  The  end  of  the  18th  century  was  not  the 
oeriod  for  a  court  poet  in  Poland. 

The  most  conspicuous  poet,  however,  of  the  time  was 
Ignatius  Krasicki,  bishop  of  Warmia  (1735-1801).  He 
was  the  friend  of  Frederick  the  Great  and  a  prominent 
member  of  the  king's  literary  club  at  Sans  Souci.  Krasicki 
wrote  an  epic  on  the  war  of  Khotin, — the  same  as  had 
furnished  the  subject  of  the  poem  of  Potocki,  of  which 
Krasicki  in  all  probability  had  never  heard,  and  a'so  that 
of  the  Dalmatian  Gundulid.  Krasicki's  poem  is  at  best 
but  a  dull  afiair,  in  fact  a  pale  copy  of  a  poor  original, 
the  Ilenriade  of  Voltaire.  His  mock  heroics  are,  to  say 
the  least,  amusing,  and  among  these  may  be  mentioned 
Myszeis,  where  ho  describes  how  King  Popiol,  according  to 
the  legend,  was  eaten  up  by  rats.  His  Monachomadtia  is 
in  six  cantos,  and  is  a  satire  upon  the  monks.  The  bishop 
was  also  the  writer  of  some  pretty  good  comedies.  In  fact 
most  styles  of  composition  were  attempted  by  him, — of 
course  satires  and  fables  among  the  number.  He 
presetits  himself  to  us  much  more  like  a  transplanted 
French  abb6  than  a  Pole.  In  the  year  1801  he  travelled 
to  Berlin,  and  died  there  after  a  short  illness.  Among  his 
other  works  the  bishop  published  in  1781-82  in  two 
volumes  a  kind  of  encyclopaidia  of  belles  kttres  entitled 
Zhior  Wiadomoici.  His  estimates  of  various  great  poets 
are  not  very  accurate.  Of  course  ho  finds  Shakespeare  a 
very  "incorrect"  author,  although  ho  is  willing  to  allow  him 
considerable  praise  for  his  vigour.  Another  bisliop-poct 
was  Adam  Naruszewicz.  The  existence  of  so  many  ecclesi- 
astical writers  was  a  natural  feature  in  Polish  literature;  they 
formed  the  only  really  cultured  class  in  the  community, 
which  consisted  besides  of  a  haughty  ignorant  nobility 
living  among  their  serfs,  and  (at  a  vast  distance)  those 
serfs  themselves,  in  a  brutalized  condition.  Burghers  there 
were,  properly  speaking,  none,  for  most  of  the  citizens  in 


the  large  towns,  were  foreigners  governed  by  the  Jut 
Magdeburg icvm.  Naruszewicz  has  not  the  happy  vivacity 
of  Krasicki ;  ho  attempts  all  kinds  of  poetry,  especially 
satire  and  fable.  He  is  at  best  but  a  mediocre  poet ;  but  he 
has  succeeded  better  as  a  historian,  and  especially  to  be 
praised  is  his  "  History  of  the  Polish  Nation  "  {Uislort/a 
Narodu  Pohkiego),  which,  however,  he  was  not  able  to 
carry  further  than  the  year  1386.  He  also  wrote  an 
account  of  the  Polish  general  Chodkiewicz  and  translated 
Tacitus  and  Horace.  Interesting  memoirs  have  been  pub- 
lished by  Kilinski,  a  Warsaw  shoemaker,  and  Kosiaian, 
state  referendary,  who  lived  about  this  time  and  saw  much 
of  the  War  of  Independence  and  other  political  affairs. 
Among  the  smaller  poets  of  this  period  may  be  mentioned 
Karpidski  (1741-1828),  a  writer  of  sentimental  elegies  in 
the  style  then  so  very  much  in  fashion,  and  Kniaznin,  who 
nourished  his  muse  on  classical  themes  and  wrote  some 
odes ;  but  his  poetry  is  not  of  a  high  order.  He  was  the 
court  poet  of  Prince  Adam  Czartorj'ski  at  Pulawj',  and 
furnished  odes  in  commemoration  of  all  the  important 
events  which  occurred  in  the  household.  He  lost  his 
reason  on  the  downfall  of  Poland,  and  died  after  eleven 
years'  insanity  in  1807.  Julian  Ursin  Niemcewicz  (1757- 
1841)  was  one  of  the  most  popular  of  Polish  poets  at  the 
commencement  of  the  present  century  (see  Niemcewicz). 
His  most  popular  work  is  the  "  Collection  of  Historical 
Songs  "  (Spiewy  Historyczne),  where  he  treats  of  the  chief 
heroes  of  Polish  history.  Besides  these  he  wrote  one  or 
two  good  plays,  and  a  novel  in  letters,  on  the  story  of  two 
Jewish  lovers.  John  Paul  Woronicz  (1757-1829)  born 
in  Volhynia,  and  at  the  close  of  his  life  bishop  of  Warsaw 
and  primate  of  Poland,  was  a  very  eloquent  divine,  and 
has  been  called  the  modem  Skarga.  A  valuable  worker' 
in  tl^e  field  of  Slavonic  philology  was  Linde,  the  author 
of  an  excellent  Polish  dictionary  in  six  volumes.  For 
a  long  time  the  cultivation  of  Polish  philology  was  in 
a  low  state,  owing  to  the  prevalence  of  Latin  in  the-  17  th 
century,  and  French  in  the  18th.  No  Polish  grammar 
worthy  of  the  name  appeared  till  that  of  Kopczj'uski  at 
the  close  of  the  18th  century,  but  the  reproach  has 
been  taken  away  in  modern  times  by  the  excellent  works 
of  Matecki  and  Malinowski.  Rakowiecki,  who  edited  the 
Rousskaia  Pravda,  and  Macieiowski  (who  died  in  1883, 
aged  ninety),  author  of  a  valuable  work  on  Slavonic  law, 
may  here  be  mentioned.  Here  we  have  a  complete  survey 
of  all  the  leading  codes  of  Slavonic  jurisprudence.  At 
a  later  period  (in  1856)  appeared  the  work  of  Helcel, 
Starodawne  prawa  pohkiego  pomniki  ("  Ancient  Memorials 
of  Polish  Law").  Aloysius  Felinski  (1771-1820)  produced 
an  historical  tragedy,  Barbara  RadAiviU,  and  some  good 
comedies  were  written  by  Count  Alexander  Fredro  (1793- 
1876).  In  fact  Fredro  may  be  considered  the  most  enter- 
taining writer  for  the  stage  which  Poland  has  produced. 
He  introduced  genuine  comedy  among  his  countrymen. 
The  influence  of  Moliiro  can  be  very  clearly  seen  in  his 
pieces ;  his  youth  was  spent  chiefly  in  France,  where  ho 
formed  one  of  the  soldiers  of  the  Polish  legion  of  Napolooa 
and  joined  in  the  expedition  to  lluasia.  His  first  produc- 
tion was  Pan  Gddhah,  written  in  1819  and  produced  at 
Warsaw  in  1821.  -PVom  1819  to  1835  ho  wrote  about 
seventeen  pieces  and  then  abandoned  publishing,  having 
taken  offence  at  some  severe  criticisms.  At  his  death  ho 
left  several  comedies,  which  were  issued  in  a  posthumous 
edition.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  local  colouring  in  the 
pieces  of  Fredro ;  although  the  stylo  is  French,  the 
characters  are  taken  from  Polish  life.  From  him  may  l>o 
said  to  date  the  formation  of  anything  like  a  national 
Polish  theatre,  bo  that  his  name  marks  an  epoch.  Tho 
Poles,  like  many  of  the  other  nations  of  Europe,  had 
reUgioua  plays  at  an  early  period.     Thoy  were  origiDallj 


304 


POLAND 


[litekature. 


performed  in  churches  ;  but,  Pope  Innocent  III.  finding 
fault  with  this  arrangement,  the  acting  was  transferred  to 
3hurchj-ards.  Mention  has  already  been  made  of  plays 
written  by  Eej  and  Kochanowski ;  they  are  mere  fruits  of 
the  Renaissance,  and  cannot  in  any  way  be  considered 
fiational.  The  wife  of  John  Casimir,  a  Frenchwoman, 
Marie  Louise,  hired  a  troop  of  French  actors  and  first 
familiarized  the  Poles  with  -something  which  resembled  the 
modern  stage.  The  Princess  Franciszka  Radziwitt  com- 
posed plays  which  were  acted  at  her  private  residence,  but 
they  are  spoken  of  as  inartistic  and  long  and  tedious. 
The  national  theatre  was  really  founded  in  the  reign  of 
Stanislaus  Augustus  ;  and  good  plays  were  produced  by 
Bohomolec,  Kamiriski,  Kropinski,  Boguslawski,  Zablocki, 
and  others.  Perhaps,  however,  with  the  exception  of  the 
works  of  Fredro,  the  Poles  have  not  produced  anything  of 
much  merit  in  this  line.  A  great  statesman  and  writer 
of  the  later  days  of  Polish  nationality  was  Koltataj, 
born  at  Sandorair  in  1750.  He  was  a  man  of  Liberal 
sentiments,  and,  had  his  plans  been  carried  out,  Poland' 
might  have  been  saved.  He  wished  to  abolish  serfdom 
and  throw  open  state  employments  to  all.  The  nobility, 
however,  were  too  infatuated  to  be  willing  to  adopt  these 
wise  measures.  Like  the  French  aristocrats  with  the 
reforms  of  Necker,  they  would  not  listen  till  ruin  had 
overtaken  them.  During  the  last  war  of  Poland  as  an 
independent  country  Koltataj  betook  himself  to  the  camp 
of  Kosciuszko,  but  when  he  saw  that  there  was  no  longer 
hope  he  went  to  Galicia,  but  was  captured  by  the  Austrians 
and  imprisoned  at  Olmiitz  till  1803.  He  died  in  1812. 
An  active  co-operator  with  Kollataj  was  Salesius  Jezierski, 
who  founded  clubs  for  the  discussion  of  political  questions, 
and  Stanislaus  Staszic,  who  did  much  for  education  and 
^improved  the  condition  of  the  university  of  Warsaw. 
Roman  The  reputation  of  all  preceding  poets  in  Poland  was 
licism.  -now  destined  to  be  thrown  into  the  shade  by  the  appear- 
ance of  Mickiewicz  (1798-1855),  the  great  introducer  of 
romanticism  into  the  country  (see  Mickiewicz).  Poland, 
as  has  been  said  before,  is  not  rich  in  national  songs  and 
legendary  poetry,  in  which  respect  it  cannot  compare  with 
its  sister  Slavonic  countries  Russia  and  Servia.  Collec- 
tions have  appeared,  however,  by  Wactaw  Zaleski,  who 
writes  under  the  pseudonyms  of  Wactaw  z  Oleska,  Wojcicki, 
Roger,  Zegota  Pauli,  and  especially  Dakar  Kolberg. 
Poland  and  Lithuania,  however,  abounded  with  supersti- 
tions and  legends  which  only  awaited  the  coming  poet  to 
put  them  into  verse.  In  the  year  1851  Romuald  Zieukie- 
wicz  published  Songs  of  the  People  of  Pinsk,  and  collections 
have  even  appeared  of  those  of  the  Kashoubes,  a  remnant 
of  the  Poles  living  near  Dantzic.  Mickiewicz  had  had  a 
predecessor,  but  of  far  less  talent,  Casimir  Brodzinski 
(1791-1835).  He  served  under  Napoleon  in  the  Polish 
_  legion,  and  has  left  a  small  collection  of  poems,  the  most 
important  being  the  idyl  Wiesiaiv,  in  which  the  manners 
of  the  peasants  of  the  district  of  Cracow  are  faithfully 
portrayed.  The  second  great  poet  of  the  romantic  school 
who  appealed  in  Poland  after  Mickiewicz  was  Julius 
Stowacki  (1809-1849),  born  at  Krzemieniec.  In  1831  he 
left  his  native  country  and  chose  Paris  as  his  residence, 
where  he  died.  His  writings  are  fuU  of  the  fire  of  youth, 
and  show  great  beauty  and  elegance  of  expression.  We 
can  trace  in  them  the  influence  of  Byron  and  Victor  Hugo. 
He  is  justly  considered  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  modern 
poets  of  Poland.  His  most  celebrated  pieces  are  Hugo ; 
Mnich  ("The  Monk");  Lamhro,  a  Greek  corsair,  quite  in 
the  style  of  Byron;  Ankelli,  a  very  Dantesque  poem  express- 
ing under  the  form  of  an  allegory  the  sufferings  of  Poland ; 
Krol  Duch  ("  The  Spirit  King  "),  another  mysterious  and 
allegorical  poem;  Waciaw,  on  the  same  subject  as  the  Mart/a 
of  Malczewski,  to  be  afterwards  noticed  ;  Beniowaki,  a  long 


poem  in  oUava  rima  on  this  strange  adventurer,  something 
in  the  style  of  Byron's  humorous  poems ;  Kordyan,  of  the 
same  school  as  the  English  poet's  Manfred;  Lilla  Weneda.^ 
a  poem  dealing  with  the  early  period'  of  Slavonic  history. 
The  life  of  Stowacki  has  been  published  by  Professor 
Anton  Matecki  in  two  volumes. 

Mickiewicz  and  Stowacki  were  both  more  or  less  mystics. 
but  even  more  we  may  assign  this  characteristic  to  Sigis- 
mund  Krasiriski,  who  was  born  in  1812  at  Paris,  and 
died  there  in  1859.  It  would  be  impossible  to  analyse 
here  his  extraordinary  poem  Nieboska  Konudja  ("  The 
Undivine  Comedy"),  Irydion,  and  others.  In  then 
Poland,  veiled  under  different  allegories,  is  always  the 
central  figure.  They  are  powerful  poems  written  with 
great  vigour  of  language,  but  enveloped  in  clouds  ol 
mysticism.  The  life  of  Krasiilski  was  embittered  by  the 
fact  that  he  was  the  son  of  General  Vincent  Krasitiski 
who  had  become  unpopular  among  the  Poles  by  his  ad- 
herence to  the  Russian  Government ;  the  son  wrote  anony- 
mously in  consequence,  and  was  therefore  called  "The 
Unknown  Poet."  Among  his  latest  productions  are  his 
"  Psalms  of  the  Future  "  {Psalmy  Przysdosci),  which  were 
attacked  by  the  democratic  party  as  a  defence  of  aristo- 
cratic views  which  had  already  ruined  Poland.  His  friend 
Slowacki  answered  them  in  some  taunting  verses,  and  this 
led  to  a  quarrel  between  the  f)oets.  One  of  the  most 
striking  pieces  of  Krasiriski  has  the  title  "  Resurrecturis. " 
The  sorrows  of  his  country  and  his  own  physical  sufferings 
have  communicated  a  melancholy  tone  to  the  writings  of 
Krasiriski,  which  read  like  a  dirge,  or  as  if  the  poet  stood 
always. by  an  t)pen  grave — and  the  grave  is  that  of  Poland. 
He  must  be  considered  as,  nest  to  Mickiewicz,  the  greatest 
poet  of  the  country.  Other  poets  of  the  romantic  school 
of  considerable  merit  were  Gorecki,  Witwicki,  Odyniec, 
and  Gaszynski ;  the  last-named  wrote  many  exquisite 
sonnets,  which  ought  alone  to  embalm  his  name.  Wit- 
wicki (1800-1847)  was  son  of  a  professor  at  Krzemieniec. 
He  was  a  writer  of  ballads  and  poems  dealing  with  rural 
Life,  which  enjoyed  great  popularity  among  his  country- 
men and  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  set  to  music  by 
Chopin.  The  historical  works  of  Lelewel  have  already 
had  separate  mention  (see  Lelewel)  ;  but  here  may  be 
specified  the  labours  of  Narbutt,  Dzieje  Siaroiytne  Narodu 
Litetvskiego  ("Early  History  of  the  Lithuanian  People"), 
published  at  Vilna  in  nine  volumes,  and  the  valuable 
Monumenta  Polonim  Hislorica,  edited  at  Lemberg  by 
Bielowski,  of  which  four  volumes  have  appeared,  con.- 
taining  reprints  of  most  of  the  early  chroniclers.  Bfa 
lowski  died  in  1876. 

A  further  development  of  romanticism  was  the  so-callecj 
Ukraine  school  of  pOets,  such  as  Malczewski,  Goszczynski, 
and  Zaleski.  Anton  Malczewski  (1793-1826),  who  died 
at  the  early  age  of  thirty-three,  wrote  one  poem,  Marya, 
which  passed  unnoticed  at  the  time  of  its  publication,  but 
after  its  author's  death  became  very  popular.  Malczewski 
led  a  wandering  life  and  became  intimate  with  Byron  at 
Venice  ;  he  is  said  to  have  suggested  to  the  latter  the  story 
of  Mazeppa.  Marya  is  a  narrative  in  verse,  written  with 
much  feeling  and  elegance,  and  in  a  most  harmonious  metre.' 
The  chief  poem  of  Goszczynski  is  Zamek  Kaniowski  ("The 
Tower  of  Kanioff").  The  most  interestipg  poem  ol 
Bogdan  Zaleski  is  his  "  Spirit  of  the  Steppe "  {Duch  od 
Stepu).  Other  poets  of  the  so-called  Ukraine  school, 
which  has  been  so  weU  inspired  by  the  romantic  legends  of 
that  part  of  Russia,  are  Thomas  or  Timko  Padoura  (who  also 
wrote  in  the  Malo-Russian,  or  Little-Russian,  language), 
Alexander  Groza,  and  Thomas  Olizarowski.  For  many  of 
the  original  songs  and  legends  we  must  turn  to  the  work  of 
Messrs  Antonovich  and  Dragomanoff.  Bogdan  Joseph 
Zaleski  was  boru  in  1802  in  the  Ukraine  'village,  Boha- 


LITERATURE.] 


POLAND 


305 


terka.  In  1820  he  was  sent  to  the  university  of  Warsaw, 
where  he  had  Goszczynski  as  a  fellow-student.  Since  1830 
he  has  resided  in  Paris.  Besides  the  longer  poem  previously 
mentioned,  he  is  the  author  of  many  charming  lyrics  in  the 
style  of  the  Little-Russian  poems,  such  as  Shevchenko  has 
■written  in  that  language.  Michael  Grabowski  (1805- 
18C3)  belongs  also  to  this  school  by  his  fine  Melodies  of  the 
Ukraine.  A  poet  of  great  vigour  was  Stephen  Qarczynski 
(1806-1833),  the  friend  of  Mickiewicz,  celebrated  for  his 
War' Sonnets  and  his  poem  entitled  The  Deeds  of  Wadaw. 

Amonj!  later  authors,  somo  of  whom  still  survive,  may  be  men- 
tioned Wincenty  Pol,  born  in  1807  at  Lublin.  He  wrote  a  fine 
descriptive  work,  Obrazy  z  Zycia  i  Podrdzy  ("  Pictures  of  Life  and 
Travel"),  and  also  a  poem,  Piesn  o  Zicmi  Naszej  ("Song  of  our 
Land").  For  about  three  years  from  1849  ho  was  protessor  of 
geography  in  the  imivei'sity  of  Cracow.  In  1855  he  published 
MohoH,  a  poem  relating  to  the-times  of  Stanislaus  Poniatowski. 
Ludwik-  Wtadystaw  Kondratowicz  (who  wrote  chiefly  under  the 
name  of  Syrokonila)  was  born  in  1823  in  the  government  of  Minsk. 
His  parents  were  poor,  and  he  received  a  meagre  education,  but 
made  up  for  it  by  careful  self-culture.  One  of  his  most  remarkable 
poems  is  his  Jan  Di;borog,  in  which,  like  Mickiewicz,  he  has  well 
described  the  scenery  of  his  native  Lithuania.  He  everywhere 
appears  as  the  advocate  of  the  suffering  peasants,  and  has  conse- 
crated to  them  many  beautiful  lyrics.  In  Kaczkowski  the  Poles  ' 
have  a  novelist  -who  has  treated  many  periods  of  their  history  with 
great  success.  His  sympathies,  however,  are  mostly  aristocratic, 
though  modified  by  the  desire  of  progress.  An  important  writer 
of  history  is  Karl  Szajnocha,  born  in  Galicia  of  Czech  parents  in 
1818.  He.  began  his  labours  with  The  Age  of  Casimir  the  Great 
(1848),  and  Bolesiuw  the  Brave  (1849),  following  these  with  Jadtoiga 
and  Jcgie'cio,  in  three  volumes  (1855-1856), — a  work  .vhich 
Spasovich,  in  his  Russian  History  of  Slavonic  Literature,  compares 
in  vigour  of  stylo  and  fulness  of  colour  with  Macaulay's  History  of 
England  and  Thierry's  Norman  Conquest.  Our  author  was  still 
further  to  resemble  the  latter  writer  in  a  great  misfortune  ;  from 
overwork  ho  lost  his  sight  in  1857.  Szajnocha,  however,  like 
Thierry  and  the  American  Prescott,  did  not  abandon  his  studies. 
His  excellent  memory  helped  him  in  his  affliction.  In  1858  ho 
published  a  work  in  which  ne  traced  the  origin  of  Poland  from  the 
Varangians  (Lcckicki  poczftek  Polski),  thus'  making  them  identical 
in  origin  with  the  Russians.  He  began  to  write  the  history  of 
John  feobieski,  but  did  not  live  to  finish  it,  dying  ^n  1868,  soon 
after  completing  a  history  of  the  Cossack  wars,  Z)wa  lata  dziejdui 
naszych  ("Two  Years  of  Our  History").  A  writer  of  romances  of 
considerable  power  was  Joseph  Korzeniowski,  tutor  in  early  youth 
to  the  poet  Krasinski,  and  afterwards  director  of  a  scliool  at 
Kharkoft.  Besides  some  plays  now  forgotten,  he  was  author  of 
some  popular  novels,  such  us  IVcdrdwki  oryginaia  ("Tours  of  an 
Original"),  1848;  Garbaty  ("The  Hunchback"),  1852,  &c.  Ho 
died  at  Dresden  in  1863.  But  the  most  fertile  of  Polish  authors 
beyond  all  question  is  Kraszewski  (born  in  1812).  His  works  con- 
stitute a  library  in  themselves  ;  they  are  chiefly  historical  novels, 
some  of  which  treat  of  early  times  in  Poland  and  some  of  its  condi- 
tion under  the  Saxon  kings.  Up  to  1879,  when  ho  celebrated  the 
fiftietli  anniversary  of  his  commencing  authorship,  ho  had  written 
two  hundred  and  fifty  separate  works  in  four  hundred  and  forty 
volumes.  One  of  the  most  popular  of  his  novels  is  Jermaia  the 
Potter,  a  pathetic  and  noble  story,  which  much  resembles  George 
El'ot's  Silas  Marner,  but  appcaroil  in  1857,  some  time  before  tho 
publication  of  that  work.  A  charge  of  treason  was  recently  brought 
against  Kraszewski  by  the  fJerman  Government,  and  he  is  now  (1885) 
ivndergoing  a  sen*  ;iice  of  imprisonment  nt  Madgeburg.  Among 
tho  various  works  of  Kraszewski  may  bo  mentioned  an  interesting 
one  on  Lithuania  (Litwa),  which  contains  many  valuable  accounts 
of  Lithuanian  customs  ;  peVhaps,  however,  the  historical  and  philo- 
logical parfj  of  tho  work  are  not  always  very  critically  treated.  Ho 
is  the  author  of  two  volumes  of  poetry.  As  lyrical  poets  may  al.so 
bo  mentioned  Jachowicz,  Jaskowski,  author  of  a  fine  poem  The 
Beginning  of  Winter,  Wasilewski,  and  Holowinski,  archbishop  of 
Moghilelf  (1807-1855),  author  of  religious  poems.  The  stylo  of 
poetry  in  vogue  in  tho  Polish  parts  of  Europe  at  tho  prcsfnt  time 
IS  chiefly  lyrical.  Otiicr  writers  deserving  mention  are  Cornelius 
Ujejski  (born  in  1823),  the  poet  of  tho  last  revolt  of  1803; 
Thcophilus  Lenartowicz  (born  182-2),  who  has  written  sonio  very 
graceful  poetry;  Sigismund  Jlilkowski  (bom  in  1820),  author  of 
romances  drawn  from  Polish  history,  for  the  novel  of  tho  school 
of  Sir  Walter  Scott  still  flourislics  vigorously  among  tho  Poles. 
Among  tho  very  numerous  writers  of  romances  may  bo  mentioned 
Henry  Uzewuski  (1791-18G6);  Joseph  Dzierzkowski  wrote  novels 
on  aristocratic  life,  and  Jlichael  Czajkowski  talcs  of  adventure  ; 
Valerius  Wiclogtowski  (1805)  gave  pictures  of  country  life.  Of 
tourso  at  the  hc.-d  of  all  "writers  in  th's  department  must  bo  con- 
•inlercJ  tho  unfortunate  Kraszc^vski. 

19-13 


In  1882  tlio  Polos  lost,  in  the  prime  of  life,  a  very  promising 
historian  Szujski  (born  in  1835),  and  also  Schmitt,  who  died  in  his 
sixty-sixth  year.  Szujski  commenced  his  literary  career  in  1859 
with  poems  and  dramas;  in  1860  npjieared  his  fii-st  historical 
production,  Rziit  oka  na  Historye  Polski  ("A  Glance  at  Polisli 
History"),  which  attracted  universal  attention;  and  in  1862  he 
commenced  tire  publication  in  parts  of  his  work  Vziejc  Polski  ("The 
History  of  Poland  ")  the  printing  of  which  ceased  in  1866.  The 
value  of  this  book  is  great  both  on  account  of  the  research  it  dis- 
plays and  its  philosophical  and  unprejudiced  style.  One  of  the  last 
works  of  Szujski,  written  in  German,  Die  Polen  und  Ruthenen  in 
Galizien,  attracted  a  great  deal  of  attention  at  the  time  of  its 
appearance.  Schmitt  got  mixed  up  with  some  of  the  political 
questions  of  the  day— he  was  a  native  of  Galicia  and  therefore  a 
subject  of  the  Austrian  emperor — and  was  sentenced  to  death  in 
1846,  but  the  penalty  was  commuted  into  imprisonment  in 
Spielberg,  whence  he  was  released  by  the  revolution  of  1848.  In 
1863  ho  took  part  in  the  Polish  rebellion,  and  was  compelled  to  fly 
to  Paris,  whence  he  only  returned  in  1871.  His  chief  works  are 
History  of  the  Polish  People  from  the  Earliest  Times  to  the  yearVSS 
(1854),  History  if  Poland  in  the  18th  and  I9th  Centuries  {l%66),  and 
History  of  Polakd  from  the  time  of  the  Partition  (1868),  which  ho 
carried  down  to  the  year  1832.  In  opposition  to  the  opinion  of 
many  historians,  his  contemporaries,  tliat  Poland  fell  through  tho 
nobility  and  the  diets,  Schmitt  held  (as  did  Lelewel)  that  the 
country  was  brought  to  ruin  by  the  kings,  who  always  preferred 
dynastic  interests  to  those  of  the  country,  and  by  tho  pernicious 
influence  to  tho  Jesuits.  Adalbert  Ketrzyiiski,  who  succeeded 
Bielowski  in  1877  in  his  post  of  director  of  the  Ossolinski  Instituts 
at  Lemberg,  is  the  author  of  some  valuable  monographs  on  the 
history  of  Poland.  He  was  born  in  1838.  Kasimir  Stadnicki  has 
treated  of  the  period  of  tho  Jagieltons  ;  and  Szaraniewicz,  professor 
at  the  university  of  Lemberg,  has  written  on  the  early  history  of 
Galicia.  Thaddeua  'VVojciechowski  has  published  a  clever  work  on 
Slavonic  antiquities.  Xavier  Liske,  born  in  1838,  and  now  pro- 
fessor of  universal  history  at  Lemberg,  has  published  many 
historical  essays  of  considerable  value,  and  must  be  a  linguist  of 
great  attainniu.'ts,  as  separate  works  by  him  have  oppeirtd  in  the 
German,  Polish,  Swedish,  Danish,  and  Spanish  languages.  The 
"Sketch  of  the  History  of  Poland"  (Dzieje  Polskie  w  Z^'rysie)  by 
Michael  Bobrzyiiski,  bom  in  1849  in  Cracow  (where  he  is  professor 
of  Polish  and  German  law),  is  a  very  spirited  work,  and  has  given 
rise  to  a  great  deal  of  controversy  on  account  of  the  opposition  of 
many  of  its  views  to  those  of  tho  school  of  Lelewel.  Vincent 
Zakrzcwski,  now  professor  of  history  at  Cracow,  has  written  somo 
works  which  have  attracted  considerable  attention,  such  as  On  the 
Origin  and  Growth  of  the  Reformation  in  Poland,  and  After  the  Flight 
of  King  Henry,  in  which  he  describes  the  condition  of  the  country 
during  tho  period  between  that  kiiig's  departure  from  Poland  and 
tho  election  of  Stephen  Batory.  Smotka  has  published  a  history 
entitled  Mieszko  the  Elder  and  his  Age.  Wfadyslaw  Wislocki  has 
prepared  a  catalogue  of  manuscripts  in  tho  Jagielton  library  at 
Cracow.  Dr  Joseph  Ca,simir  Plcbafiski  ie  now  editor  of  the 
Bibliotcka  Warszawska,  a  very  valuable  literary  journal  which 
stands  at  the  head  of  all  works  of  tho  kind  in  Poland.  Ho  has  also 
written  a  dissertation  (in  Latin)  on  the  liberum  relo,  which  puts 
that  institution  in  a  new  light  Felix  Jozierski,  the  previous  editor 
of  the  above-mentioned  journal,  published  in  it  translations  of  ports 
of  Homer,  and  is  also  the  author  of  an  excellent  version  of  Faust. 

Tho  history  of  Polish  literature  has  not  been  neglected.  Wo 
first  have  tho  early  history  of  Felix  Bentkowski  (1781-1852), 
followed  by  that  of  Michael  Wiszniewski  (1794-1865),  which,  how- 
ever, only  extends  to  tho  17th  century,  and  is  at  best  but  a  quarry 
of  materials  for  subsequent  writers,  tho  style  being  very  heavy.  A 
"History  of  lilonucnco"  (Hlstorya  Wymovy  w  Polsce)  was  pub- 
lished by  Karl  Mechcrzyuski.  An  elaborate  history  of  Polish 
literature  is  now  in  course  of  preparation  by  Anton  Matecki,  who  is 
tho  author  of  tho  best  Polisli  grammar  [Gramalyka  Historyanu- 
Poruwnawcza  Jczyka  Pohkiego,  2  vols.,  Lemberg,  1879).  Tho 
Polish  bibliography  of  Kurl  Estreicher,  nowdirectorof  the  Jagielton 
library  at  Cracow,  is  a  work  of  the  highest  importance.  One  of  tho 
most  active  writers  on  Polish  philology  and  literature  is  Wlo.lyslaw 
Nchring,  whose  numerous  contributions  to  tho  Archivfilr  Slaviarhi 
Philologic  of  Professor  Jagic  entitle  him  to  the  gratitude  of  nil  who 
have  devoted  thcms.;lves  to  .Slavonic  studies.  Wla<liniir  Spnsowicz, 
a  lawyer  of  St.  Petersburg,  has  assisted  Pipin  in  his  valuablo  work 
on  Slavonic  literature.  The  lectures  of  Professor  f'vbulski  {ob. 
1867)  on  Polish  literature  in  tho  first  half  of  tho  19th  century  art) 
written  with  much  spirit  and  appreciation.  The  larger  nodical 
works  which  appear  during  that  time  aro  carefully  analysed. 

In  recent  times  many  interesting  gcolojjic.il  and  anthropo- 
logical investigations  have  been  carried  on  in  Poland.  In  1808 
Count  Constantino  Tyszkicwicz  published  a  valuable  monogmph 
on  tho  Tombs  of  Lilhu,tnia  and  lyeslern  Riilhenia.  A  diligent 
Bcarehcr  for  antiquities  is  Prof.  Joseph  Lepkowxki  of  Cracow, 
who  bos  greatly  enriched  the  ai-choiological  museum  of  his  nativo 
city 


30f5 


POLAND 


[RUSSIAN. 


lu  philosophy  the  Poles  (as  the  Slavs  generally)  have  produced 
Imt  few  remarkable  names.  Goluchowski,  the  brothers  Audiew 
and.  John  Suiadecki,  the  latter  of  whoni  has  gained  a  reputation 
almost  European,  Brouisiaw  Trentowski.  Karol  Liebelt,  and 
Joseph  Kremer  deserve  mention.  Anc;UEt  Cieszkowski  has" written 
on  philosophical  and  economic  subjects.  Moritz  Straszewski,  tie 
present  profe^or  of  philosophy  at  the  uuiverBity  of  Cjaoow,  has  ako 
published  some  remarkable  works. 

Mention  has  already  been  made  of  the  poetess  Elizabeth 
Druzbaeka.  Female  writers  are  not  very  eommon  among  Slavo- 
nic nations.  Perhaps  the  most  celebrated  Polish  aitthoress  was 
Klenieutiua  Hoffmann,  whose  maiden  name  was  Tanska,  born  at 
Warsaw  in  1798.  She  married  J£arl  BoromauB  ifoffmann,  and 
accompanied  her  husband,  in  1831,  to  Passy  near  Paris,  where  she 
died  in  184.5.  Her  novels  still  enjoy  great  popularity  in  Poland. 
Of  the  poetesses  of  later  times  Gabriele  Narzysea  Zmichnwska 
(1823-1878),  Maria  llnicka,  translator  of  Scott's  iMrd  of  the  Isles, 
and  Jadniga  Luszczewska  may  be  mentioned. 

A  poet  of  considerable  merit  is  Adam  Asnyk,  born  in  1888.  In 
his  poetry  we  seem  to  trace  the  steps  between  romanticism  and  the 
modern  realistic  school,  such  as  we  see  in  the  Russian  poet 
Nekrasoft  In  some  of  the  flights  of  his  Muse  he  reminds  us  of 
Biowacki,  in  the  melody  of  his  verse  of  Zaleski.  Besides  showing 
talent  as  a  poet,  he  has  also  written  some  good  plays,  as  "The 
Jew"  {Zid),  Cola  di  JUaisi,  and  Kkjslut.  Other  living- poets 
worthy  of  mention  are  Zagorski,  Czerwienski,  and  Maria  Konop- 
nicka,  who  has  published  two  volumes  of  poems  that  have  been 
very  favourably  noticed.     Mention  must  al^  be  made  of  Baiacki, ' 


born  at  Cracow  in  1S37.  and  Nurijnifki  (18:in-]87i),  who  wan 
educated  in  France,  but  spout  jart  of  his  sliurt  life  in  Cracow, 
author  of  some  very  popular  tale*--. 

The  four  centres  of  I'olish  liLcratiu-e,  which,  in  sjiile  of  the 
attempts  which  have  been  made  to  dcn,\tioiiuli7e  the  country,  in 
fairly  active,  are  Cr.ieow.  Posen,  Leiiibeitr,  and  Warsaw.  A  few 
years  ago  a  cheap  edition  of  the  Icidiug  Polish  classics,  well 
adapted  for  dissemination  among  tlie  people,  was  published,  under 
the  title  of  Bibliotela  Pohka.  at  Cracow,  which  shows  a  gi-tat 
deal  of  vitality  and  is  an  interesting  city.  Not  only  are  the  pro- 
fessors of  its  university  some  of  the  most  eminent  living  Poles,  but 
it  has  been  chosen  as  a  place  of  residence  by  many  Polish  literary 
men.  The  aradeiny  of  sciences,  founded  in  1872,  celebrated  the 
bieentSnary  of  the  raising  of  the  siege  of  Vienna  by  Sobieski  by 
publishing  the  valuable  AcUi  Joannis  III.  Itcrjis  PoJonim.  Some 
good  Polish  works  have  been  issued  at  Posen,  but  it  is  becoinir.g 
extremely  Germanized,  and  no  part  .of  the  original  kingdom  if 
Poland  has  uudei^one  so  much  change  as  this.  At  Lemberg,  tie 
capital  of  Austrian  Galida. -there  is  an  active  Polish  press.  Her* 
appeared  the  Monuhicila  Polmiis  Uisloricn  of  Bielowski,  previouslj 
mentioned  ;  but  Polish  in  this  province  has  to  strugnle  with  the 
fied-Eussian  or' Enthenian,  a  language  or  dialect  which  for  all 
practical  purposes  is  the  same  as  the  Southern  or  Little  Russian. 
At  Warsaw,  since  the  last  insurrection,  the  university  has  become 
entiiely  Russianized,  and  its  Transad ions  -are  published  in 
Russian  ;  but  Polish  works  of  merit  still  issue  from  the  press, 
— among  others  the  leading  Polish  literary  jottfual,  BibUoicka 
ITaismicska.  (W.  R.  M.) 


POLAND,  EiJssi.'iN.  After  the  three  dismemberments 
of  the  old  kingdom,  the  name  of  Poland  was  chiefly  re- 
tained by  the  part  of  the  divided  territory  annexed  to 
Russia.  Since  the  insurrection  of  186.3,  however,  the 
name  "  kingdom  of  Poland  "  has  disappeared.  Thencefor- 
ward this  portion  of  the  Russian  empire  is  referred  to  in 
official  documents  only  as  the  "  territory  of  the  Vistula," 
and  later  on  as  the  "  Vistula  governments."  Nevertheless 
the  geographical  position  of  Russian  Poland,  its  ethno- 
graphical features,  its  religion,  and  its  traditions  differ- 
entiate it  so  widely  from  the  remainder  of  the  Russian 
empire  that  the  name  of  Poland  still  survives  in  current 
use.  The  area  of  this  territory  is  49,157  square  miles, 
and  the  population  exceeds  7,300,000.  Sea  Russia,  and 
map  accompanying  that  article. 

Projecting  to  the  west  of  Russia  in  a  wide  semicircle 
between  Prussia  and  Austria,  it  is  bounded  on  the  N.  by 
the  provinces  of  western  and  eastern  Prussia,  on  the  W.  by 
Posen  and  Prussian  Silesia,  on  the  S.  by  Galicia,  and  on 
the  E.  by  the  Russian  governments  of  Volhynia,  Vilna, 
Grodno,  and  Kovno.  It  consists  for  the  most  part  of  an 
undulating  plain,  300  to  450  feet  above  the  sea,  which 
joins  the  lowlands  of  Brandenburg  in  the  west,  and  the 
great  plain  of  central  Russia  in  the  east.  A  low  swelling 
separates  it  from  the  Baltic  Sea;  while  in  the  south  it 
gradually  rises  to  a  range  of  plateaus  which  imperceptibly 
blend  with  the  spurs  of  the  Carpathians.  These  plateaus, 
with  an  average  height  of  from  800  to  1000  feet,  occupy 
all  the  southern  part  of  Poland.  They  are  mostly  covered 
with  beautiful  forests  of  oak,  beech,  and  lime,  and  are 
deeply  cut  by  the  valleys  of  rivers  and  numerous  streams, 
some  being  narrow  and  craggy,  and  others  broad,  with 
gentle  slopes  and  marshy  bottoms.  Narrow  ravines  inter- 
Bect  them  in  all  directions,  and  their  surface  often  takes, 
especially  in  the  east,  the  puszcza  character, — in  other 
words,  that  of  wild,  unpassable,  woody,  and  marshy  tracts. 
In  these  tracts,  which  occupy  the  south-eastern  corner  of 
Poland,  and  are  called  Podlasie,  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  Polyesie  of  the  Pripet  is  felt.  The  Vistula,  which 
borders  these  plateaus  on  the  south-west,  at  a  height  of  700 
to  750  feet,  has  to  penetrate  them  before  finding  its  way 
to  the  great  plain  of  Poland,  and  thence  to  the  Baltic. 
tts  valley  divides  the  hilly  tracts  of  Poland  into  two 
|iarts, — the  Lublin  heights  in  the  east,  and  the  S?domierz 


(Sandomir),  or  central,  heights  in  the  west.  These  last 
are  diversified  by  several  ridges  which  run  east-south-east, 
parallel  to  the  Beskides,  the  highest  of  them  being  those 
of  the  "  Bald  "  or  "  Holy  Cross  Mountains  "  (Lysog6rski, 
or  Swi§tokrzyski),  two  summits  of  which  respectively  reach 
1813  and  1961  feet  above  the  sea.  Another  short  ridge, 
the  Ch^cinski  hills,  follows  the  same  direction  along  the 
Nida  river,  reaching  1135  feet  at  Zamkowa  "G6ra.  South 
of  the  Nida,  the  Olkusz  Hills,  already  blended  with  spurs 
of  the  Beskides,  fill  up  the  south-west  corner  of  Poland, 
reaching  1473  feet  at  Podzamcze,  knd  containing  the  chief 
mineral  wealth  of  the  country ;  while  a  fourth  range,  from 
1000  to  1300  feet  high,  runs  north-west  past  Czestochowo, 
separating  the  Oder  from  the  Warta  In  the  north,  the 
plain  of  Poland  is  bordered  by  a  flat  and  broad  swelling, 
600  to  700  feet  above  the  sea,  dotted  with  lakes,  and 
recalling  the  lake  regions  of  north-western  Russia.  Its 
gentle  southern  slopes  occupy  the  northern  parts  of  Poland, 
while  the  province  of  Suwatki,  |projecting  as  a  spur 
towards  the  north-east,  extends  over  the  flat  surface  of 
this  swelling.  Wide  tracts  covered  with  sands,  marshes, 
peat-bogs,  ponds,  and  small  lakes,  among  which  the 
streams  lazily  flow  from  one  marsh  to  another,  the  whole 
being  covered  with  poor  pine-forests  and  a  scanty  vegeta- 
tion, with  occasional  patches  of  fertile  soil — such  are  the 
general  characters  of  the  northern  border-region  of  the 
great  plains  of  central  Poland. 

These  plains  extend  in  a  broad  belt,  150  miles  wide,  from 
the  Oder  to  the  upper  Niemen  and  the  marshes  of  Pinsk, 
gently  sloping  towards  the  west,  and  slowly  rising  towards 
"  the  woods  "  of  Volhynia  and  Grodno.  Few  hills  raise 
their  flat  tops  above  the  surface,  the  irregularities  of -which 
for  the  most  part  escape  the  eye,  and  can  be  detected  only 
by  levellings.  As  far  as  the  eye  can  see,  it  perceives  a 
plain  ;  and  each  hill,  though  but  a  few  hundred  feet  above 
its  surface,  is  called  a  "gora"  (mountain).  The  rivers 
flow  in  broad,  level  yalleys,  only  a  few  hundred  or  even 
only  a  few'  dozen  .feet  lower  than  the  watersheds ;  they 
separate  into  many  branches,  enclosing  islands,  forming 
creeks,  and  covering  wide  tracts  of  land  during  inunda- 
tions. Their  basins,  especially  in  the  west,  are  mi.xed  up 
with  one  another  in  the  most  intricate  way,  the  whole 
bearing  unmistakable  traces  of  having  been  in  recent  geo- 
logical and  partly  in  historical  times  the  bottom  of  extenr. 


ErSSIAN.J 


POLAND 


307 


sive  lakes,  whose  alluvial  deposits  now  yieia  rich  crops. 
The  fertility  of  the  soil  and  the  facility  of  communication 
by  land  and  by  water  have  made  this  plafti  the  very  cradle 
of  the  Polish  nationality,  and  every  furlong  of  it  to  the 
Pole  is  rich  in  historical  memories.  The  very  name  of 
Poland  is  derived  from  it, — Wielkopolskaand  Wielkopolane 
being  the  Slavonian  for  the  great  plain  and  its  inhabitants. 

Russian  Poland  belongs  mostly,  though  not  entirely,  to  the 
basin  of  the  Vistula, — its  western  parts  extending  into  the  upper 
basin  of  the  Warta,  a  tributary  of  the  Oder,  and  its  north-east  spur 
(Suwalki)  penetrating  into  the  basin  of  the  Niemen,  of  which  it 
occupies  the  left  bank.  For  many  centuries,  however,  the  Poles 
have  been  driven  back  from  the  moutlra  of  their  rivers  by  the 
German  race,  maintaining  only  the  middle  parts  of  their  basins. 

The  chief  river  of  Poland,  and  the  very  cradle  of  the  Polish 
nationality,  is  the  Vistula  (Pol.,  fyisia),  the  Vandalus,  VisiUa,a.ni 
Jstula  of  antiquity.  It  has  A  length  of  620  miles,  and  a  driiiliage 
area  of  72,000  square  miles.  It  rises  in  Galicia,  in  the  Bcskides, 
3675  feet  above  the  sea,  where  the  Black  and  White  Vistulas  unite. 
Flowing  first  north-east,  in  an  elevated  valley  between  the  Beskides 
and  the  Sandomir  heights,  it  separates  Russian  Poland  from  Galicia, 
and  already  at  Cracow  has  a  bre.idth  of  90  yards.  It  enters  Russian 
Poland  at  Zawichwost,  473  feet  above  the  sea.  After  hi*ving  re- 
ceived the  San,  it  turns  north,  traversing  for  some  35  miles  a  broad 
valley  deeply  cut  through  the  plateaus  of  southern  Poland.  This 
valley  reaches  at  several  places  a  width  of  10  miles  between  the 
limestone  crags  which  border  it  on  both  sides,  the  space  between 
being  occupied  by  two  alluvial  terraces,  where  the  river  winds  freely, 
divides  into  several  branches,  and  frequently  changes  its  bed.  Here 
it  has  a  speed  of  8  feet  per  second,  with  a  gradient  of  1"3  to  1"5  feet 
per  mile,  and  a  depth  ranging  from  4  to  20  feet.  About  Juscfow  (51° 
If.  lat. )  it  enters  tho  great  central  plain,  where  it  flows  north  and 
west-north-west  between  low  banks,  with  a  breadth  of  1000  yards. 
Its  inundations,  dangerous  even  at  Cracow,  become  still  more  so  iu 
the  plain,  where  tlie  accumulations  of  ice  in  its  lower  course  obstruct 
the  outflow,  or  the  heavy  rains  in  the  Carpathians  raise  its  level. 
Dams,  20  to  24  feet  high,  are  maintained  at  great  e.vpenso  by  the 
inhabitants  for  CO  miles,  but  they  do  not  always  prevent  the  river 
from  inundating  the  plains  of  Opolic  and  Kozienic,  the  waters 
soiqetimes  spreading  as  far  as  150  miles  to  the  east.  Below  Warsaw 
(2G7  feet)  it  frequently  changes  its  bed,  so  that,  for  example,  Ptock 
(180  feet),  w:hich  formerly  was  on  its  left  bank,  Ls  now  on  the  right. 
About  Thorn  it  enters  Prussia,  and  a  few  miles  below  this  town  it 
finds  its  way  through  the  Baltic  ridge,  flowing  iu  a  north-east 
direction  aud  entering  the  Baltic  Sea  in  the  Frischc-HafT  at  Dautzic. 
On  tlio  whole,  it  is  what  tlie  physical  geographer  would  call  a 
"young"  river,  which  is  still  excavating  its  bed,  and  probably  on 
this  account  few  towns  of  importance  are  situated  on  the  Vistula 
in  Russian  Poland,  the  principal  being  Sedoniierz,  Warsaw,  and 
Pfock,  and  the  fortresses  of  I vangorod  and  Novo^eorgievsk(Modlin), 
while  very  many  small  towns  have  sprung  up  within  short  distances 
from  its  course.  It  is  navigable  almost  from  Cracow  for  small  boata 
and  rafts,  which  descend  it  at  high  water.  Real  navigation  begins, 
however,  only  below  its.  confluence  with  the  Wieprz,  tho  middle 
and  lower  Vistula  bein"  thi^  chief  artery  for  the  traflSc  of  Poland, 
Thousands  of  rafts  and  boats  of  all  de.scriptions  descend  every  year, 
with  cargoes  of  corn,  wool,  timber,  and  wooden  wares,  giving  occupa- 
tion to  a  large  number  of  men.  Steamers  ply  as  far  as  to  Sedomierz. 
Tho  Vistula  receives  many  tributaries,  tho  most  important  being 
the  San,  tho  Wieprz,  and  tho  Bug  on  the  right,  and  tho  Nida 
and  the  Pilica  on  tho  left.  The  San  (220  miles)  rises  in  Galicia, 
in  tho  same  prt  of  the  Carpathians  as  tho  Dneistcr,  and  flows 
north-west,  close  to  the  southern  frontier  of  Poland  ;  it  is  navi- 
gable downwards  from  IJynow,  and  is  ascended  by  boats  as  fur  as 
Yarosfaw  in  Galicia.  Tho  Wieprz  (180  miles)  is  tho  chief  artery  of 
tho  Lublin  government;  it  flows  north-west  past  Lublin  and 
Lubartow,  joining  tho  Vistula  at  Ivangorod.  It  is  navigable  for 
iBmall  boats  and  rafts  for  105  miles  from  Krasnostaw.  The  Bn" 
■which  describi:3  a  wide  curve  concentric  with  those  of  tho  middle 
(Vistula  and  Narew,  rises  to  the  east  of  Lwow  (Lcrabcrg)  and  flows 
jnoith  and  west,  past  Hrubicszow,  Chelm,  and  Brest-Litowski, 
separating  the  Polish  provinces  of  Lublin  and  Sicdlco  from 
jVolhynia  and  Grodno.  It  joins  the  Vistula  a  few  miles  below  ila 
coiiflucnco  with  the  Narew,  some  20  miles  below  Warsaw,  after  a 
course  of  more  than  675  miles.  Only  light-boats  {cjalary)  arc  floated 
down  this  broad  but  shallow  stre.im,  whose  flat  and  open  valley 
is  often  inundated.  Its  great  tributary,  tho  Narew  (150  miles), 
brings  the  forest-lands  of  Byelowezha  into  communicatinn  with 
Poland,  timber  being  floated  down  from  Surazh  and  li;.'ht  boats 
from  Tykocin.  Tho  mountain-stream  Nida  waters  the  hilly  tracts 
of  Kiclco,  and,  rapidly  descending  south-east,  joins  the  Vi-ituln  close 
by  tho  Opatowlec  custom-house.  Tho  Pilica  rises  iu  tlio  south- 
V,  I'.stcrn  corner  of  Poland,  and  flows  for  135  miles  north  and  east  in  a 
liioad,  flat,  sandy,  or  marehy  valley,  of  evil  repute  for  its  unhealtUi- 
ncii.1 ;  it  joins  the  Vistula  at  Mniszew,  30  miles  above  Warsaw. 


Tlie  Warta  (450  miles)  rises  in  the  Ch^tochowo  hills,  900  feet 
above  the  se.a,  and  flows  north  and  west  past  Sieradz  (448  feett  and 
Koto.  Below  Cz^stocliowo  it  watere  a  flat  lowland,  whose  surface 
rises  only  from  2  to  5  feet  above  the  level  of  tho  river,  and  the 
inhabitants  have  a  constant  struggle  to  keep  it  to  its  bed  ;  tho 
country  is,  however,  so  low  that  every  spring  an  immense  lake  is 
formed  by  the  river  at  the  mouth  of  tho  Ner  ;  as  regards  its  right 
hand  tributaries,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  define  them  from  those 
of  the  Bzura,  tributary  of  the  Vistula,  amidst  tho  marehy  grounds 
where  both  take  their  origin.  The  Warta  turns  west  at  Koto  and 
leaves  Poland  at  Pyzdry  in  the  govenimeut  of  Kalisz  ;  it  serves  to 
convey  timber  to  Prussia. 

The  Niemen,  which  has  a  total  length  of  500  miles  and  a  basin 
of  40,000  square  miles,  flows  alongthc  north-east  frontier  of  Poland, 
from  Grodno  to  Ynrburg,  separating  it  from  Lithuania.  Alreaily 
70  yards  wide  at  Grodno,  it  advances  northwards  in  great  windings, 
between  limestone  hills  covered  with  sand,  or  amidst  forests,  past 
numerous  ruins  of  castles,  or  koorgans,  which  witness  the  battles 
that  have  been  fought  for  its  possession.  The  yellowisli  sandy 
plains  on  its  left  allow  only  the  cultivarion  of  oats,  buckwheat,  and 
some  rye.  The  river  flows  so  slowly  below  Kovno  as  to  seem  almost 
stationary  ;  it  often  changes  its  bed,  and,  notwithstanding  repeated 
attempts  to  regulate  it,  olfei-s  great  diflicultics  to  navigation.  Still, 
large  amounts  of  corn,  wool,  and  timber  are  floated  down,  especially 
afterits  junction  with  the  Black  Hancza,-  giving  occupation  to  about 
90,000  men.  A  little  above  Kovno  the  Niemen  turns  west,  and 
after  having  received  the  Wilja  from  the  right,  it  attains  a  width 
of  nearly  500  yards.  At  Yurburg  it  enters  eastern  Pnissia,  and 
reaches  the  Baltic  Sea  at  tho  KurischeHatf.  Of  its  tribut.\ries  in 
Poland,  only  the  Hancza  Czarna  and  the  Szeszupa,  which  winds 
through  the  province  of  Suwatki,  are  worthy  of  mention. 

Lakes  are  numerous  in  the  province  of  Suwatki,  amounting 
there  to  over  five  hundred  ;  but  the  largest  of  them,  Wigry,  tra- 
versed by  the  Hancza,  covers  only  11,000  acres.  They  are  mostly 
concealed  amid  thick  coniferous  or  birch  forests,  and  their  watera 
stretch  with  undefined  banks  amidst  marshes,  sands,  or  layers 
of  boulders  thickly  covered  with  moss.  Another  group  of  some 
one  hundred  and  twenty  small  lakes  is  situated  in  the  basin  of  the 
Warta  (north  part  of  Kalisz),  the  largest  being  Gopfo,  18  miles 
long  and  100  feet  deep,  surrounded  by  many  smaller  lakes,  and 
receiving  the  Noted  river.  It  was  much  larger  even  within  historical 
times,  and  was  well  known  from  being  situated  on  the  highway 
from  the  Adriatic,  via  Koto  on  the  Oder,  to  tlio  basin  of  tho 
Vistula. 

Though  navigable  for  a  few  months  only,  the  rivers  of  Poland 
have  always  been  of  considerable  iuirortance  for  tlie  tiaflic  of  the 
country,  and  this  importance  is  further  increased  by  several' 
canals  connecting  them  with  Russian  and  German  rivers.  Tho 
Niemen  is  connected  with  the  Dnieper  by  the  Oginski  Canal, 
situated  in  the  Russian  government  of  Minsk.  The  Dnieperand- 
Bug{Hoiodecki,  Brzeski,  also  Krulewski)  Canal  in  Grodno  connects 
tho  Mukhavets,  tributary  of  the  Bug,  with  the  Pina  of  the  basin  of 
the  Pripet,  that  is,  the  Dnieper  witii  the  Vistula.  Tho  Vistula  is 
connected  also  with  the  Oder  by  the  Bydgoski  or  Broniberg  Canal 
in  Prussia,  which  connects  the  l3rda,  of  the  basin  of  the  Vi.'itula, 
with  tho  Noted,  or  Netzo,  tributary  of  the  Warta.  All  thesq 
canals  are,  however,  beyond  Russian  Poland.  In  Poland  proper, 
the  Xugustowski  Canal  connects  the  Vistula  with  the  Niemen, 
by  means  of  the  Hancza,  Netta,  Biebrz,  and  Narew.  Another 
canal,  to  tho  west  of  Leczyca,  connects  the  Bzura,  a  tributary  of 
tho  Vistula,  with  tho  Ner  and  Warta  ;  and  the  bed  of  the  former 
has  recently  been  altered  so  as  to  obtain  regular  irrigation  of  tho 
rich  meadows  extending  along  its  banks. 

With  the  c.tccption  of  its  southern  parts,  Poland  is  built  up 
almost  exclusively  of  Secondary  and  Tertiary  forniatinn«,  rovi-red" 
with  a   thick   sheet  of  Quaternary   deposits.     Tho    i  is 

rocks  are  represented  only  by  a  small  patch  of  p")  ir 

Ch^cin, 'and  another  of  basalts  at  the  castle  of  T  .  .    .11 

depo.siis  of  quartzitos  in  tho  Dyminski  Hills,'  by  the 

Orthi.1  kiekensis,  R<.'m.,  wliich  formerly  were  con  Minian, 

belong  to  the  Silurian  as  also  a  few  duloniiti.'i  ii|q>iaiiiig  from 
beneath  the  Devoiijin  Old  Red  Sandstone  and  limestones.  Tho 
last  two  cover  wide  tracts  in  tho  |>rovinca  of  Kitloe,  and  in  tho 
district  of  Bedziii,  on  tho  Silesian  fionlier.  The  Devonian  limo- 
stones  of  Kielco,  which  coiUaiii  the  Oi"  -  .  .  /  ' ,  \  .,,  ,  ■  .■il,i,if^ 
Atrypa  rcticulnris,  A.  dcsifunmata,  I  1 1 

Jlnlclli/tr,    Syirifcr   vcrncuili,    and  ,    . ;  ui 

exhibit  a  fauna  closely  akin  to  that  uf  the  l)e\ui,iju  ut  (.!<  uuany 
and  Belgium,  or  tho  lowest  iiart  of  Ihu  Upper  Devoninn — the  ao- 
callcd  "  Cu'/oWm  Schichti'n.'  Tiio  hard  ^ulMUtonco^  Dumbrowa, 
Br/czina,  &c.,  with  VIion<Us  saninuluttt,  Sinri/rr  /wirav/oxiu,  S, 
cullrijugatus,  and  I'Urinta  ]millrUi,  is  certainly  I..owor  Devuuian. 
This  formation  contains  the  chiel  mineral  rr.souri'rs  of  Poland. 

Tho  Carboniferous!  formation  appears  in  tho  Olkunx  and  Bcdtin 
districts.  It  consisti  of  sandstones  and  clays,  with  layers  of  coal 
30  feet  thick.  The  Pirmi.m  is  represented  by  iMirphyric  tiilfs  in 
the  OlkiLtz  district,  "  Ztchbtein  "  charactcrizcil  by  I'lvduclui  liur- 


308 


POLAND 


[bdssian. 


•^  a.,„  at  Kielcc  and  a  breccia  consisting  of  Devonian 
r^M-  ^TI.eTHas  is  widely  spread.  It  consists  of  vanegated 
boulders,  f'  f  Y'^^f,/by  Myophoria  coslala,  occurring  exten- 
sandstones,  characttiizea  uj   i    ,  ^  Radom,  y  elding  a  fine 

r-f/-  "  .'t^^TTi^T^fslnl  ont  n^nli  and  we'st'of  Kiefce,  con- 
building  stone,      iue  reu  baiiu  -,,,nV,ablv  belonK  to  the  same 

sidered^as  P!^™"f  "^^^.l^ones^'in^  the  m^rn^^  parts  of 

Vormation,  like  tb^.xed  |"'<'^\°";^^b\\7k  "appears  in  the  iistriets 
the  Kielce  mountains.     J'>«,*\^„'XKielce  mountains,  and  has 

i^^^t^^'^^'^J^'  ^lC.°a?^ 
|do:S:olsa:^!}:tS:=^e^^an^ll^;.^nes.  and  con- 

^^nlo°n   whicWe?s%e%'rag^t  Lt??hrtghou^^ 

S  of  low  r        e^of  sandst'onesT  and  of  an  upper  series  confining 

S[s:-sr-=:T^i:r::^luipLJ?:tKS 

'  VVe'wtl'l'^S'^uJrS-ry  deposits  reaching  at 
sev^er^l  Jets  a  very  great  thickness,     They  are  chieHy  rnade  up  of 

nf  the  rountrv  during  the  post-Glacial  period.  Thic.  pe^t-Bogs 
are  being  formed  in  the  moister  depressions,  and  cover  an  aggregate 

^'l:^:^.^::^^^'^^^^^  traces  of  prehistoric  man 
l,alc  be  n  found  but  th^  old  lake  beds  still  -v-t  a  niore  thorough 
einloration.     The  bone  caves  at  Ojcowo  have  yielded  rich  tinrts  oi 

rldnoceros  the  cave  hy=ena,  and  especially  the  reindeer,  are  repre- 
sented by  numerous  remains.  The  bones  of  extinct  mammals  have 
Ten  found  in  association  with  very  numerous  relics  oj  "lan  some 
of  which  are  most  probably  Palteolithic,  ''vl'ie  the  great  number 
?!,i!!nn-  tVtlm  Neolithic  period,— those  cave-inhabitants  being  m 
some'instlnces'^dolichoce'phalic.  like  those  of  the  shores  of  post- 
rtnpi'al  likes   and  in  others  mesocephalic. 

'''sou  hemPoland  is  rich  in  miueraFs,  especially  in  the  Kieke  moun 
tains  and  the  region  adjacent  to  Prussian  Silesia.     The  IJe^  onian 
.^anitones  contai°u  malachite  ores  at  MedzianaGora,  near  Kielce 
and  copper  has  been  worked   tlifre   since  the  15tl.  century.      in 
the   years  1816-1826  65,000  cwts.  of  copper  ore  were  extracted 
but   the  mines   are  now   neglected.     The   brown   iron   ores,  also 
Devonian,  of  Kielce,  and  especially  those  of  .Dale-yc.  contain  no 
less  than  40  piT  cent,  of  iron.     The  Tnassic  ziiic  ores  of  the  Ulkusz 
'^:Uct,^lore^han50feet  thick  at  B'''-*-^' ^-^^'^e'  o^OO  cwTs 
cent.,  sometimes  25  per  cent.,  of  zinc  ;  and  m  18J9 f'^^^'^^O  ew  s 
of  ore  were  extracted  from  nine  pits,  yielding  about  100,000  cwt.s. 
of  7inc     The  tin  ores  of  Olkusz,  also  Triassic,  are  still  more  import- 
ant  and  were  extensively  wrougbt  as  early  as  the  16th  century, 
notwithstanding  the  difficulties  arising  from  the  presence  o   wate 
tliey  are  reported  to  have  then  yielded  more  than  35,000  cwts  per 
annum.     lu   1878   the  very  fluctuating  yie^/'^a'^hed  only  8960 
cX     Brown  iron  ores  appearing  in  the  neighbourhood  of  B^dzm 
as  lenses  55  feet  thick,  and  conUining  25  to  33  per  cent,  of  iron, 
accomp^y  the  Triassic  zinc  ores.     Spherosiderites  and  brown  iron 
0 resTeTso  widely  spread  in  the  "  Keuper."     Sulphur  is  wrought 

°  Czarkowa,  in  the  iistrict  of  Pi*^-"- •  t^'-t^^to  7 J  f  e  ani 
tain  25  per  cent,  of  sulphur,  reach  a  thickness  of  7  to  70  feet,  and 
the  amount  of  sulphur  is  estimated  at  1,300,000  cwts. 

CarWerous  eoal  is  spread  in  south-west  P°land  over  a  surfaco 
0fabrt2M  square  miles  in  the  districts  of  Bedzin  and  Olkusz, 
which  are  estimated  to  contain  732.000,000  eulic  yards  of    oa 
Tlie  Triassic  brown  coal,.which  appears  in  the  Olkusz  d'-trict  in 
layers  3  M  7  feet  thick,  has  lately  been  worked  out    the   single 
Pit  of  St  Jtehn  yielding  in  1879  204,200  cwts.  of  coal.     Of  other 
S^  nil  prod"c'e    chail, exported  from  Lublin,  a  few  quarries  o 
TnarWe,-and  many  of  building  stones  are  wprthv  o   notice.     Mineral 
waters  are  nsed  medicinally  at  Ciechocin  and  Nat?chow 
,    With  the  exception  of  the  Lysa  G&ahilly  tracts   Kielce  andSouth 
Radom),  which  Uo  within  the  isotherms  of  41  and  42  ,  lolaua  is 


situated  between  the  isothei-msof  42'  and  46°  ^The  V^thej-es  aj^ 
isocheims  (ie..  lines  of  XlrTgr^nS'th  "^rr  CnnTn^ 
rt!ncf.hTast!"pS:nd1s7fc^^5tt^^^^^^ 

the  south  on  account  of  the  proximity  of  the  Cai-paUiiaBs  wnere 
+ul,r  ronnl,  •?n-1  inches      Of  the  above  amounts,  about  1/  per  ceni. 

uncommon,  and  the  rivers  are  covered  ^th  ice  ft,r  twa  ana  a  . 
the  climate  of  Poland  :— 


Warsaw. 


VUna. 


Earliest  frost 

Latest  frost 

Average  maximum  temperature. 
Average  minimum         do. 
Absolute  maximum        do. 
Absolute  minimum        do. 

Bright  days 

Cloudy  days ■• 

Annual  rainfall  (total) •••■ 

Rainfall— November  to  March. 
Prevailing  winds  in  January  ... 

in  July 

during  the  year. 


Oct  18 

Oct  17 

Mar.  15 

Mar.  25 

85°7 

85°-l 

l°-7 

-9°-6 

95°-5 

89°-3 

37° -6 

-39°-0 

40 

23 

154 

175 

22-8  in. 

7-6  in. 

6-7  in. 

4-7  in. 

S.E. 

S. 

W. 

W. 

S.E. 

W. 

The  flora  of  Poland  is  more  akiu  to  that  of  Germany  than  to  that 
of  Russia   several  middle  European  species  finding  their  north-east 
?fm^S  In  the  b^of  the  Niemen  o/in  the  marshes  o   Lithuania 
Con^erous  forests,  consisting  mostly  of  pine  if^^^.^{l^^J,^^i 
birch   cover  large  tracts  in  Mazovia,  extending  over  the  Kaltic  Jake 
ridee  relchin-  southwards  as  far  as  the  junction  of  the  Bug  ^^ 
the  Narew  and  joining  in  the  south-east  the    '  Polyesie.    of  the 
Pripet     The  pine  covers  also  the  Lysa  G6ra  hills  and  those  on  the 
San^    The  larch  {Larix  emopBa),  which  three  centuries  ago  covered 
farge  tracU  has  almost  entii-ely  disappeared  ;  it  is  now  met  wiA 
onfy  in  the  Samsonowski  forests  of  Sandomeria.    The  Pmu^  Cm6« 
U  July  remembered,  as  also  the  Ta^K.  '""tT'the  PUica  onlh* 
few  representatives  in  Sandomerian  forests,  on  the  P''«=a  on  too 
;;,"J^  of  Ostrot^ka,  and  in   the  Preny  forests  on  the  N.emen. 

^'of'^SJ^btrtg  trect'ilfcommon  beech  ^Fu^ussyl^atica);.  the 
most  twi.^1  of  4^  Pol  sh  flora  ;  it  extends  fron,  the  Carpathians  to 
^2°  N  ?1T  and  three  degrees  farther  north  in  small  groups  or 
fsola^d  specimens  ;  the  confluence  of  the  Bug  and  Narow  may  sti  1 
bere^rde'dasTtseaternlimit  The  white  beech (Carptn«.5.to;,«), 
the  a?pen  (PowiZus  Iremula),  and  two  elms  (Uhny^  camvestris,  U- 
cffam)Z^ioZi  nearly  everywhere,  mingled  with  other  trees  in 
S  The  same  is  true  with  regard  to  the  lime-tree  (rritapam- 
}:  Stwhich  appears  in  groves  o^?  i"  .t^e  east  (Niemen  Pr^pe^ 
r  ublin',  It  is  the  most  popular  tree  with  the  Poles,  as  tne  DircB 
^Uh  t^'e  Russians;  judf  e'nt  of  old  -f.Pf-""-Ve  o'akil 
shade  and  all  the  folk-lore  songs  repeat  its  name.  Ihe  oaK  a 
hi'hy  venerated  tree  in  Poland,  though  ^^ot  so  much  as  u. 
Lithuania-grows  in  forests  only  on  the  most  fertile  patches  of 
land  but  it  is  of  common  occurrence  in  conjunction  with  the 
heeci,  elm  &"  The  maples  (Acer  platanoidc  and^.  psa^opla- 
,nlul\  arrsomewhat  rare  the  black  alder  {Abms  gluhncsa)  covers 
th  banks  oTttie  rivers'  and  canals,  and  the  Ahms  t»^na« 
common,  The  willow,  and  the  orchard  trees-apple,  pear,  pUim, 
and  cherrv— are  cultivated  everywhere. 

The  flora  of  Poland  contains  12  per  cent  of  Com^os,«^  6  per 
cent  of  Leguminos^,  2  per  cent,  of  Labiatw,  4  per  cent  ofUmbelh- 
S   5  per  cent  of  CruH/cra,,  and  2  per  cent  of  Conr/cr^ 
■'^^  The  wheat  frontier  coincides  very  nearly  with  that  of  the    eaf- 
t,»,rJncr  forests      It  yields  good  crops  on  the  fertile  tracts  cf  Saudo- 
SLKiin'Ud  on  tL  plai  J  of  the  Vistula  and  W.th^,  bu 
does  not  thrive  very  weU  beyond  62°  N.  lat.      Rye,  °?ts,  M.riey, 
buckwheat  and  hemp  are  cultivated  everywhere,  and(  "ax  in  the  ea^t 
hons  are  very  common,  and  tobacco-culture  has  been  hegnn  in  the 


BUSSIAM.] 


1'  O  L  A  N  D 


309 


oiil)-  .IS  .1  fossil ;  tlif!  s.ilile,  mentioned  in  the  annals,  h.is  migrated 
castwaiils ;  the  wild  lioi-se,  also,  described  by  tlie  aiiuals  as 
intermediate  between  the  horse  and  tlie  ass — probably  like  the 
recently  discovered  Equus  przcwalskii — is  said  to  have  been  met 
with  in  the  13th  century  in  the  basin  of  the  Warta,  and  two  cen- 
turies later  in  the  forests  of  Lithuania.  The  wild  goat,  bison,  and 
elk  have  migrated  to  the  Lithuanian  forests.  The  lynx  and  beaver 
have  also  disappeared.  The  brown  bear  continues  to  haunt  the 
forests  of  the  south,  but  is  beconiiug  rarer  in  Poland  ;  the  wolf,  the 
wild  boar,  and  tho  fox  are  most  common  tliroughout  the  great 
plain,  as  also  the  hare  and  several  species  of  Arvicola.  The 
mamm.ils  in  Poland,  however,  do  not  exceed  fifty  species.  The 
lavi-launa,  which  does  not  differ  from  that  of  central  Europe,  is  repre- 
Iscnted  by  some  one  hundred  and  twenty  species,  among  which  tho 
singing  birds  (Dentiroslrse  and  Coiiirostrm)  are  the  most  numerous. 
On  the  whole,  Poland  lies  to  the  westward  of  tlie  great  line 
of  passage  of  the  migratory  birds,  and  is  less  frequented  by  them 
than  the  steppes  of  south-west  Russia.  Still,  numerous  aquatic 
birds  breed  on  the  waters  of  the  Baltic  lake-region. 

The  population  of  Poland,  6,193,710  in  1871,  reached  7,319,980 
tn  1881,  showing  an  increase  of  1'8  per  cent,  per  annum  during  the 
ten  years,  and  an  average  of  15  persons  per  square  mile.  Of  theio 
17  per  cent,  lived  in  towns.     They  were  distributeil  as  follows  : — 


Govemmeats. 

Area, 
Square  Miles. 

Total  Popula- 
tion, 1881. 

Urban 
Population. 

Per  Square 
Mile. 

Kalisz 

4,391 
3,897 
4,667 
6,499 
4,730 
4,200 
4,769 
6,535 
4,846 
5,623 

765,403 
622,842 
538,588 
860,382 
837,923 
538,141 
633,715 
616,649 
.603,174 
1,303,158 

96,848 
38,493 
51,554 
78,867 

144,246 
78,797 
69,058 

117,011 
61,827 

485,852 

17-4 
160 
11-5 
13-2 
17-7 
12-8 
13-3 
11  1 
12-4 
23-2 

14-9 

Kielce 

tomza 

Piotrkow 

Ptock 

Radom 

Siedlce 

.Siiwatki 

Warsaw 

Total 

49,157 

7,319,980 

1,222,653 

The  bulk  of  the  population  are  Poles.  During  prehistoric  times 
the  basin  of  tho  Vistula  seems  to  have  been  inhabited  by  a  dolicho- 
cephalic race,  dilferent  from  the  brachycephalic  Poles  of  the  present 
day ;  but  from  tho  dawn  of  history  the  Slavonians  (Poles),  mixed 
to  some  extent  with  Lithuanians,  are  found  on  the  plains  of  the 
Vistula  and  Warta.  The  purest  Polish  type  is  found  in  the  basin 
of  the  middle  Vistula  and  in  Posen  ;  in  the  north-east  there  is  a 
Lithuanian  admixture,  and  in  the  south-east  a  Little  Russian.  The 
geographical  domain  of  the  Poles  corresponds  approximately  with 
tho  limits  of  Russian  Poland.  Some  250,000  Lithuanians  (277,000 
or  284,000,  according  to  other  enumerations)  occupy  the  north  part 
of  Suwatki,  their  southern  limit  being  the  Hancza  river  and 
tho  towns  Seino  and  Snwalki ;  while  tho  Ruthenians  (about 
606,000  in  1873)  appear  in  compact  masses  in  the  ea.st  and  south- 
east, occupying  tho  whole  space  between  the  Bug  and  the  Wieprz 
as  far  as  Siedlce,  as  also  tho  region  between  the  upper  Wieprz  and 
the  San.  Tho  White  Russians  numbered  27,000  in  the  north-eost 
and  east,  and  the  Great  Ru.ssians  12,000.  The  Poles  extend  but 
little  beyond  the  limits  of  Ru.ssian  Poland.  In  east  Prussia  they 
occupy  the  southern  slope  of  the  P^ltic  ridge  (the  Mazurs) ;  and  on 
tho  left  bank  of  tho  lower  Vistula  tliey  siiread  to  its  mouth  (tho 
Kasziihes).  Westward  they  occupy  a  strip  of  land  of  an  average 
hrcadth  of  50  miles  in  Brandenburg,  Posen,  and  Silesia,  stretching 
down  the  Warta  as  far  as  to  Birnbaum  (100  miles  east  of  Berlin) ; 
lind  in  the  south  they  extend  along  the  right  bank  of  the  Vistula 
in  western  Galicia  to  the  San.  In  Rus.sia  they  constitute,  with 
Jews,  Lithuanians,  Ruthenians,  and  White  Russiams,  the  town  popu- 
lation, as  also  tho  landed  nobility  and  szlachta,  in  several  provinces 
west  of  the  Dwina  and  the  Dnieper.  Their  numbers  in  these  pro- 
vinces may  bo  seen  from  tho  following  figures: — 


Oorci-nmcnts. 

Population 
(18C7). 

Number  of 
Poles. 

Percentage 
o(  Poles. 

Probable  Number 
ot  Poles  In  1881. 

Vilua 

973,. 570 
1,940,760 
1,643,270 
1,135,590 

958,8.';0 

838,050 
2,144, 2ft0 

908,860- 
1,131,250 

597,290 
1,16.1,590 

143,290 

233,6.50 

172,405 

117,750 

89,8.50' 

40,725 

71,640 

26,115 

30,875 

13,155 

1,450 

147 

120 

10-5 

10-4 

9-3 

4-9 

3-3 

2-9 

27 

2-2 

01 

175,000 

269,000 

215,000 

160,500 

112,700 

64,960 

87,650 

82,700 

88,950 

•    14,000 

) 1,600 

Poiiolia 

Volliynia 

Minsk 

r.roilno 

Vitebsk 

Kieir. 

Mogliilcff..... 

Kovno 

Courland 

Siiiolensk  .... 

Total 

13,441,360 

940,905 

7  00 

1,162,050, 

Accordinglo  tlio  localities  ivliich  they  inhabit,  the  Poles  take' 
dilferent  names.  They  are  called  Wielkopolanie  on  the  jilains  of 
middle  Poland,  while  the  name  of  Matopolanie  is  reserved  for  tlioso 
on  the  Warta.  The  name  of  L^czycanic  is  given  to  the  inhabitanta 
of  tho  marshes  of  the  Ner,  that  of  Kurpie  to  those  ot  the  Podlasie ; 
Kujawiacy,  Szljcy  in  Silesia,  and  Goralo  in  the  Carpathians. 

The  Kaszubes,  and  especially  the  Miizurs,  m.iy  be  considered  as 
separate  stocks  of  the  Polish  family.  The  Maznrs  (whose  northern 
limits  may  be  thus  described— Przerosl  in  Suwatki,  Gohlap, 
Rastenburg,  and  Bischofsburg  in  Prussia,  and  Mtawa  in  I'tock)  ate 
distinguished  from  the  Poles  by  their  lower  stature,  broad 
shoulders,  and  massive  structure,  and  still  more  by  their  national 
dress,  which  has  nothing  of  the  smartness  of  that  of  the  southern 
Poles,  and  by  their,  ancient  customs  ;  they  have  also  a  dialect  of 
their  own,  containing  many  words  now  obsolete  in  Poland,  and 
several  grammatical  forms  bearing  witness  to  tho  Lithuanian  iuflu- 
ence.  They  submit  without  dithculty  to  German  iniUicnce,  and 
already  are  Lutherans  in  Prussia.  Tho  language  of  the  Kaszubes 
can  also  be  considered  as  a  separate  dialect.  The  Poles  proper 
are  on  the  whole  of  medium  stature  (5  feet  4 '6  inches),  finely 
built,  dark  in  the  south  and  fair  in  the  north,  richly  endowed  hy 
nature,  inclined  to  deeds  of  heroism,  but  perhaps  deticicnt  in  that 
energy  which  chaiact riizes  the  northern  races  of  Europe,  and  in 
that  sense  of  unity  which  has  been  the  strength  of  their  present 
rulers. 

The  German  element  is  annually  increasing  both  in  number  and 
in  influence,  especially  during  tho  last  twenty  years.  The  todz 
manufacturing  district,  the  Polish  Birmingham,  is  becoming 
more  German  than  Polish  ;  and  throughout  the  provinces  west  of 
the  Vistula  German  immigration  is  going  on  at  a  steadily  increas- 
ing rate,  especially  in  the  governments  of  Plock,  Kalisz,  Piotrkdw, 
and  Warsaw.  It  is  estimated  that  a  strip  of  land  35  miles  wido 
along  the  Prussian  frontier  is  already  in  the  hands  of  Germans, 
whose  advance  is  further  favoured  by  the  rapid  transference  of 
landed  property  into  German  hands  in  Posen.  In  Russian  Poland 
associations  of  four  to  six  men,  supported-  by  German  banks, 
purchase  large  numbers  of  properties  belonging  to  members  of  tho 
Polish  nobility  who  have  been  ruined,  since  the  last  insurrection. 
No  fewer  than  30,736  Gennan  landholders,  owning  5433  estates, 
were  enumerated  last  year  in  tlio  provinces  west  of  the  Vistula; 
while  13,714  foreign  proprietors,  farmers,  and  labourers  (11,497 
Prussians  and  1914  Austrians)  were  at  the  same  time  owners  of 
1,857,900  acres,  valued  at  135,000,000  roubles.  According  to  other 
statistics,  the  foreigners  in  Poland,  mostly  Germans,  who  remained 
foreign  subjects,  numbered  170,000  in  1881  (5'15  per  cent,  of 
the  population).  Of  these,  91,440  (families  included)  hold  landed 
property  to  the  amount  of  2,605,500  acres,  or  83  per  cent,  of  the 
area  of  the  kingdom.  The  aggregate  number  of  Germans  in  Russian 
Poland,  estimated  at  370,000  in  1873,  must  now  exceed  450,000, 
thus  constituting  about  one-fifteenth  of  the  population. 

The  Jews,  who  are  found  everywhere  throughout  Poland,  are  still 
more  numerous,  and  must  now  exceed  a  million.  Tlicy  are  nowhere 
agricultural ;  in  the  larger  towns  many  of  them  are  artisans,  but 
in  the  villages  they  aio  almost  exclusively  engaged  as  shopkeepers, 
second-hand  traders,  dealers  on  commission,  innkeepers,  and 
usurers.  In  the  country,  both  commerce  and  agriculture  are  in 
the  hands  of  their  intimately  connected  trading  associations. 
Their  relations  with  Poles  and  Kutheuians  arc  anything  but 
cordial,  and  "Jew-baiting"  is  of  frequent  occurrence.  They  are 
increasing  much  more  rapidly  than  tho  Slavs. 

The  relative  nuinbers  of  the  various  inhabitants  of  Poland  may 
be  seen  from  the  following  figures  : — 


Accoi-dlnK  to 
Galkin  (1868). 

Aceordlng  to 
Rltllch  (1873). 

Per 

cent. 

Polos 

3,900,580 
764,950 
428,380 
.33,520 
11,065 
234,160 
277,050 

4,375,840 
860,330 
605,980 
26,866 
12,166 
870,360 
241,150 

68-.f 
13-4 

8-5 

6-8 
8-8 

White  Russians , 

Great  Russians 

G  crmans 

Tho  prevalent  religion  is  tho  Roman  Catholic,  to  which,  in  1870, 
4,596,956  out  of  a  population  of  6,034,430  belonged;  at  the  same 
date  246,485  wero  adiicrent-i  of  tho  United  Church,  327,846  were 
liUthcrans.  34,135  were  of  the  Greek  Church,  and  4926  Noncon- 
formists. The  Jews  at  tho  same  date  were  reckoned  (certainly  an 
undcr-cstitiiati»)  at  815,443,  and  the  Mohammedans  at  426.  The 
number  of  followers  of  tho  United  Church  has  much  diminished 
since  1873,  when  they  wero  compelled  to  join  the  Greek  Church. 

Since  tho  last  insurrection  a  series  of  measures  have  been  taken 
to  reduce  the  numbers  of  tho  Roman  Catlioljc  clergy  in  Poland  ;  iu 
1883  there  remained  1313  churches  out  of  1401,  1544  priests  out 
of  2322,  10  monasteries  out  of  29,  and  8  convents  out  ot  80.  Ont 
diocese  (Podlasie)  having  been  abolished,  and  a  new  one  established 


3ia 


POLAND 


[RUSSIAN. 


»t  Kielce,  wliile  several  bishops  had  been  sent  out  of  the  country, 
the  whole  situation  remained  unsettled  until  1S33,  when  the  pojie 
recognized  the  new  diociisan  subdivisions  introduced  by  the  Russian 
Government  Poland  is  now  divided  into  foiir  dioceses  (Warsaw, 
Sjdoinierz,  Lublin,  and  Plock). 

From  remote  antiquity  Poland  has  been  celebrated  for  the  produc- 
tion and  export  of  grain.  Both,  however,  greatly  declined  in  the 
18th  century  ;  and  towards  the  beginning  of  this  century  the 
peasants,  ruined  by  their  proprietors,  or  abandoned  to  the  Jews, 
were  in  a  more  wretched  state  than  even  their  Kussian  neighbours. 
Serfdom  was  abolished  in  1807  ;  but  the  liberated  peasants  received 
no  allotments  of  land,  and  a  subsequent  law  (1808)  rendered  even 
fheir  transference  from  one  landlord  to  another  almost  impossible  ; 
tlie  old  patrimonial  jurisdictions  were  also  retained.  Compelled  to 
accept  the  conditions  imposed  by  the  landlords,  they  had  to  pay 
rack-rents  and  to  give  compulgory  labour  in  various  forms  for  the 
use  of  land.  Only  a  limited  number  were  considered  as  permanent 
farmers,  while  nearly  one-half,  of  the  peasants  became  mere 
proUlaires ;  in  1864  1,338,830  former  peasants  had  ceased  to  have 
land  rights  at  all.  Pursuing  a  policy  intended  to  reconcile 
the  peasantry  ta  fiussian  rule  and  to  break  the  power  of  the 
Polish  nobility,  tli"  Russian  Government  promulgated,  duriilg 
the  outbreak  in  1S64,  a  law  by  which  those  peasants  who  were 
holders  of  laud  oo  estates  belonging  to  private  persons,  institutions 
(such  as  monasteries  and  the  like),  or  the  crown  were  recognized 
as  proprietors  of  the  soil,  — the  state  paying  compensation  to  the 
landlords  in  bonds,  and  the  peasants  having  to  pay  a.}'early  annuity 
to  the  state  until  the  debt  thus  contracted  had  been  cleared.  The 
Toluation  of  these  allotments  was  made  at  a  rate  much  more 
advantageous  than  in  Russia,  and  the  average  size  of  holding 
reached  15  acres  per  family.  Of  those  who  held  no  land  a  number 
received  it  out  of  the  confiscated  estates  of  the  nobility  and  monas- 
teries. At  the  same  time  the  self-government  of  the  peasant 
was  organized  on  democratic  principles.  .  The  so-called  "servi- 
tudes," however,  that  is,  the  right  to  pasture  on  and  take  .wood 
fr?m  the  landlord's  estates,  were  maintained  for  political  reasons, 
becofliing  a  source  of  great  inconvenience  both  to  landlords  and 
jieasants. 

Whatever  be  the  opinion  held  as  to  the  intention  of  theae  reforms, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they  resulted  in  a  temporary  increase 
of  prosperity,  or  at  any  rate  an  alleviation  of  the  previous  misery 
of  the  peasants.  In  1864  there  were  342,500  peasant  families, 
holding  an  aggregate  of  8,300,080  acres  of  land  ;  but  only  22,000 
peasants,  that  is,  less  than  one-half  per  cent,  of  the  agricultural 
population,  were  proprietors,  the  remainder  (218,500)  being  nobles, 
while  2,000,000  peasants  were  czinszewiH,  that  is,  tenants  at  will, 
and  1,338,000  had  no  land  at  all.  In  1872  there  were  already 
672;100  free  peasant  estates,  occupying  13,000,000  acres.  In  ten 
years  (1864-73)  the  area  of  cultivated  soil  had  increased  by 
1,350,000  acres,  while  during  the.  fourteen  years  1845-59  its 
increase  was  only  640,000  acres.  The  crops,  which  stood  in 
1846-60  at  an  average  of  9,360,000  (juarters  of  corn  and  6,500,000 
•luartere  of  potatoes,  reached  respectively  15,120,000  and  14,400^00 
quarters.  The  yearly  increase,  which  was  only  2 '2  per  cent,  for 
corn  and  1'3  per  cent,  for  potatoes  during  the  years  1846-60, 
became  respectively  4  7  and  8 '3  per  cent,  during  the  years  1864-75, 
and  the  average'  crop  per  head  rose  from  1"S3  quarters  in  1850  to 
2  52  in  1872.  The  annual  increase  of  horses,  which  formerly  was 
1  per  cent.,  reached  2"7  per  cent,  in  1864-70,  while  the  yearly 
increase  of  cattle  remained  almost  stationary  (1*2  per  cent., 
against  I'l  per  cent).  In  fact,  Poland  had  in  1870  only  37 
liead  of  cattle  for  each  100  persons,  against  41  head  in  1860. 
Another  consequence  of  these  measures  was  a  notable  decrease  of 
crime,  and  a  rapid  increase  of  viUage  primary  schools,  maintained 
by  the  peasants  themselves. 

It  must  be  acknowledged,  however,  that  the  maintenance  of  the 
"  servitudes  "  has  become  a  serious  evil.  Moreover,  the  want  of 
pasture-land,  the  warrt  of  )noney  for  improvements,  quite  insuffi- 
ciently supplied  by  the  joint-stock  banks  in  the  villages,  and  the 
very  rapid  increase  in  the  price  of  land,  from  50  roubles  per  morgen 
(1'3835  acre)  to  120  and  250  roubles,  have  all  helped  to  lessen  the 
Iwnefits  of  the  agrarian  measures  of  1864.  The  peasants  are  unable 
to  purchase  land  proportionately  with  the  increase  of  population  ; 
and,  while  a  few  of  them  buy,  many  others  are  compelled  to  sell 
to  the  .Tews  (notwithstanding  the  law  which  prohibits  the  purchase 
of  Innd  by  Jews)  or  to  German  immigrants.  The  estates  of  the 
nobility  do  not  pass  into  the  hands  of  the  Polish  peasants  as  they 
are  told,  and  still  less  to  Russians,  but  largely  into  those  of  German 
immigrants. 

Agiiculture  in  Poland  is  carried  on  with  more  perfect  methods 
on  the  whole  than  in  Russia.  The  extensive  cultivation  of  beet- 
root, of  potatoes  for  distilleries,  and  of  grasses  has  led  to  the 
introduction  of  a  rotation  of  several  years  instead  of  the  former 
"  three-fields "  system  ;  and  agricultural  machinery  is  in  more 
general  use,  especially  on  the  larger  estates  of  the  west  Winter 
wheat  is  extensively  cultivated,  especially  in  the  south,  the  S.indo- 
inir  wheat  having  a  wide  repute.     In  1873  50  per  cent  (15,728  000 


acres)  of  the  surface  of  Poland  was  under  crops,  9  per  cent. 
(2,929,000  acres)  under  meadows,  and  26  per  cent  (8,242,000 
acres)  under  forests.  The  fii'st  of  these  figures  exceeds  now  54  ])cr 
cent.  In  1881  the  crops  reached  19,050,000  quarters  of  com, 
21,151,000  quarters  of  potatoes,  and  14,368,000  cwts.  of  beetroot 
(14,365,950  cwts.  in  1882).  The  corn  crops  were  distributed  as 
follows  : — wheat,  11  per  cent ;  rye,  38  ;  oats,  29  ;  barley,  12  ;  buck- 
wheat, 4;  various,  6  per  cent., — 3  per  cent,  being  used  for  manu- 
factures,' 22  per  cent,  for  seed,  60  per  cent,  for  home  consumption, 
and  15  percent,  for  export  The  potatoes  were  used  almost  entirely 
for  distilleries.  The  culture  of  tobacco  is  successfully  carried  on 
(about  3500  acres),  especially  in  Warsaw,  Ptock,  and  Lublin. 

Cattle  rearing  is  an  important  source  of  income.  In  1881  there 
were  appro.ximately  3,300,000  cattle,  4,500,000  sheep  ^including 
2,500,000  of  the  finer  breeds),  and  1,000,000  horses.  Fine  breed» 
of  hoi-ses  and  cattle"  occur  on  the  larger  estates  of  the  nobility, 
and  cattle  are  exported  to  Austria.  Bee-keeping  is  wiilely  spread, 
especially  in  the  south-east.  Fishing  is  carried  on  remuneratively, 
especially  on  the  Vistula  and  its  tributaries. 

Manufactures  have  shown  a  rapid  increase  during  the  last  twenty 
years.  While  in  1864  the  annual  production  was  only  50,000,000 
roubles,  it  now  exceeds  150,000,000,— the  manufactures  of.  Poland 
yielding  one-eighth  of  the  total  production  of  the  Russian  empire. 

Mining  has  shown  a  still  more  rapid  development  within  the 
.same  period.  While  in,'  1862  only  154,100  cwts.  of  pig-ii'on  and 
100,900  cwts.  of  iron  and  steel  were  made,  these  figures  respectively 
reached  947,800  and  1,742,500  cwts.  in  1881 ;  and,  whereas  the 
highest  figure  in  the  annual  returns  of  the  coal-mining  industry 
from  1867  to  1873  was  only  2,494,000  cwts.,  the  average  for  1876-80 
was  17,157,000,  and  the  amount  reached  27,659,000  cwts.  in  1881. 
The  zinc  mines  yielded  in  1881  89,640  cwts.,  aud  the  extraction 
of  tin  reached  7580  cwts.  in  1878.  Sulphur  was  obtained  to  the 
amount  of  6450  cwfc.  in  1879. 

The  developmentr  of  the  leading  manufactures  may  be  seen  froiQ 
the  following  figures : — 


1866. 

187a. 

Prodnce  !n 
Roubles. 

ITands. 

"Prnduce  to 
Roubles. 

Hands. 

7,134,483 

1,151,382 

6,099.474 

61,785 

606,656 

587,552 

311,126 

4,150,756 

1,591,833 

5,654,496 

443,880 

7,579 

6,669 

9,578 

100 

165 

1,083 
379 
5,579 
5,583 
7,149 
368 

26,833,000 

,  2,294,000 

22,492,000 

533,000 

4,318,000 

1,343,600 
2,665,000 
8,572,000 
4(469,000 
9,426,000 
900,000 

12,716 

6,900 

16,949 

350 

906 

1,289 

2,497 
3,182 
7,096 
7,899 
443 

Linen  and  hemp  stuffs 

Silks 

Preparation,  dyeing,  ) 
hats ( 

Produce  from  wood.,.. 

Animal  produce 

Mineral  produce..; 

Chemical  produce 

Total 

27,793,523    44.232 

83,845,000 
1,375 

60,227 

Average  production 
per  hand 

628 

Thus,  while  the  number  of  hands  occupied  in  these  industries 
has  increased  by  40  per  cent.,  the  production  has  nearly  trebled, 
showing  a  corresponding  improvement  in  the  machinery  cmploj'ed. 
The  chief  manufacturing  centres  are  the  tddi  region  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Piotrkow  (wooUen  stuffs,  cottons,  sugar,  corn-flour,  wine- 
spirit,  coal-mines)  and  Warsaw  (linen  stuffs,  leather,  machinery, 
sugar,  wine-spirit,  tobacco,  and  all  kinds  of  grocery  and  mercery 
wares).  Mining  is  chiefly  concentrated  in  the  south-west.  The 
annual  production  for  separate  governments  (exclusive  of  mining, 
flour-miUs,  and  breweries,  and  the  number  of  hands  employed  by 
distilleries  remaining  unknown)  was  given  in  1879  as  follows  : — 


Roubles. 

Hands. 

Piotrk6w 

60,900  000 

42,110,000 

14,670,000 

10,495,000 

4,543,000 

2,919,000 

2,121,000 

2,109,000 

1,862,000 

684,000 

36,550 

37,605 

9,159 

5,577 

581 

2,337 

1,708 

1,747 

1,815 

403 

Warsaw 

Lublin 

Lomia .' 

Radom 

Ptock 

Siedlce..- 

Suwatki 

Total 

142,413,000 
1,102,949,000 

97.4S2 
711,097 

Russia  in  Europe 

RUSSIAN.] 


POLAND 


311 


TUeae  figures,  however,  have  already  increased  considerably, 
especially  with  reganl  to  distilleries,  wliich  yielded,  in  1882-83, 
6."26D,50f)  gallons  of  pine  alcohol ;  while  the  sugar-works,  wliieh 
occupied  ill  1832^83  9774  men,  2636  women,  and  2403  children, 
produced  315,460  cwts.  of  rough  sugar  and  425,800  cwts.  of 
refined  sugar.  In  1832  the  production  reached  66,291,700  roubles 
in  I'iotikow,  3,948,200  in  Siedlce,  and  1,240,230  in  Suwalki. 

Tlie  railways  of  Poland  have  an  aggregate  length  of  888  miles. 
A  line  of  great  importance,  connecting  Vienna  with  St  Petersburg, 
Srosacs  the  country  from  south-west  to  north-east,  passing  through 
the  milling  district  and  Warsaw,  and  sending  a  short  branch 
;o  iodi.  Another  important  Hue,  connecting  Dantxic  with 
)dessa,  croeses  Polaml  from  north-west  to  south-east.  A  branch 
ine,  parallel  to  this  last,  connects  Skiernewice  with  Thorn  and 
iromberg ;  while  a  military  railway  connects  the  fortresses  of 
Warsaw  and  Ivangorod  with  Brest-Litowsky,  via  Siedlce  and 
tukow,  and  a  aide  lino  will  soon  connect  Siedlce  with  Matkin  on 
the  lower  Bug.  The  great  line  from  Berlin  to  St  Petersburg  crosses 
North  Snwaiki  for  54  miles,  between  Eyiltkunen  and  Kovno.  The 
aggregate  length  of  the  mncadaniizcd  roads,  increased  by  2110 
miles  since  1864,  is  now  abont  6700  milis. 

The  traffic  on  the  Polish  railways  is  very  brisk.  In  1880  the  aggre- 
gate amount  of  merchandise  brought  to  and  sent  from  Warsaw  reached 
respectively  36,055,000  and  18,248,000  cwts.;  and  the  whole  amount 
of  merchandise  conveyed  on  Polish  railways  within  Poland  (exclusive 
of  the  Eydtkunen  and  Kovno  line)  amounted  to  81,459,000  cwts. 

The  chief  custom-houses  of  the  Russian  empire — Wierzbotowo, 
Sosnowice,  Granica,  Warsaw — and  many  minor  ones  are  situated 
ou  the  frontiers  of  Poland.  Tlieir  aggregate  imports  and  exports 
reached  respectively  127,414;054  and  146,320,921  roubles  in  1882. 

The  "primai'y  cell  "  of  the  administrative  organization  of  Poland 
is  the  gmitul, — formerly  a  village  commune  for  the  common  posses 
sioa  and  partly  also  for  the  common  cultivation  of  land,  which 
lost  its  characters  with  the  introduction  of  serfdom,  but  has  been 
taken  by  the  law  of  1864  as  the  basis  of  the  organization  of  the 
peasantry  in  Poland.  Each  district  is  subdivided  into  twelve  to 
twenty  ^nbuis,  including  several  villages  and  all  farms  on  its  terri- 
tory, and  having  a  popuhation  of  from  2000  to  10,000  inhabitants. 
All  landholders  of  the  ijmina  who  are  in  possession  of  at  least  4  acres 
constitute  the  communal  assembly  of  the  gmina.  Only  the  clergy- 
men and  the  police  officials  are  excluded  from  it.  Each  member 
has  but  one  vote,  however  extensive  his  property.  The  gmiim 
'  differs  thus  from  the  Russian  volost  in  its  including,  not  only  pea- 
Bants,  but  also  all  landed  proprietors  of  the  territory.  The  assembly 
elects  the  wait,  or  elder  (the  executive  of  the  gmina),  a  clerk,  a 
soUijs  in  each  village,  and  a  tribunal  consisting  of  fazCTiiAi,  who  jud"e 
all  matters  of  mhior  importance,  according  to  local  customs.  It 
also  allocates  the  taxation  among  the  members  of  the  gmina, 
administers  the  common  inoperty  (pasturage,  grazing  lands,  forests), 
has  charge  of  the  poor,  and  generally  deals  with  all  questions  educa- 
tional, hygienic,  and  economic  which  concern  the  gmina.  The 
cost  of  administration  of  each  gmiim  varies  from  1000  to  3000  roubles. 
In  reality,  the  powers  of  the  gmina  are,  however,  very  much  limited 
in  all  but  purely  economical  questions  by  a  numerous  bureaucracy, 
and  especially  by  the  "chief  of  the  district"  nominated  by  the 
crown ;  there  is  also  a  general  tendency  towards  transforming  it 
into  a  mero  auxiliary  to  the  Russian  administration,  the  clerk  or 
secretary  becoming  its  chief  organ. 

The  provincial  administration  is  regulated  by  the  law  of  December 
81,  1866.  Each  government  being  subdivided  into  ten  to  twelve 
districts,  the  district  administration  consists  o,f  an  ouyezdnyi 
natchaltiik,  or  "chief  of  the  district,"  with  a  number  of  secretaries 
and  "chancelleries''  (military,  for  recruiting;  philanthropic;  for 
mutual  assurance  against  fire  ;  for  finance  ;  and  for  gendarmerie). 
The  provincial  administration,  under  a  military  governor,  consists 
in  each  of  the  ten  governments  of  the  following  institutions  : — (1) 
"chancellery"  of  tlie  governor;  (2)  a  provincial  "  college,"  with 
councillors  corresponding  to  the  following  departments — admini- 
stration, military  and  police,  finance,  state  domains,  law,  medicine, 
and  insurance  ;  (3)  a  philanthropic  committee  ;  (4)  a  postal  depart- 
ment;  (5)  a  "college  for  finance;  (6-10)  departments  of  excise, 
customs,  forests,  control,  and  education.  There  is  also  in  each 
government  a  special  institution  for  the  affairs  of  peasants. 

The  entire  administration  of  Poland  is  under  the  governor-general, 
residing  at  Warsaw,  whose  power  is  limited  only  by  "collegiate" 
institutions  corresponding  to  the  different  branches  of  administra- 
tion. He  is  at  the  same  time  the  commander  of  the  entire  military 
fiirce  of  the  "  Warsaw  military  district."  Justice  is  represented  by 
tlio  gmina  tribunals  ;  the  justices  of  the  peace  (nominated  by 
government) ;  the  syczd,  or  "court"  of  the  justices  of  the  peace  ; 
the  district  tribunals  (assizes)  in  each  government ;  and  the  ^\  arsaw 
courti  of  appeal  and  cassation.  The  prisons  of  Poland,  with  ercep- 
tion  of  a  leturmatory  for  boys  at  Studzieniec,  are  in  a  very  bp  J  slate. 
With  an  aggregate  capacity  for  only  4050  prisoners,  they  had  in 
18fc3  7210  inmates.  Poland  constitutes  also  a  separate  educational 
diatilct,  a  district  of  roads  and  communications,  an  administration 
»f  justice  district,  and  two  mining  districts. 


Poland  has  had  no  separate  budget  since  1867 ;  its  income  and 
expenditure  are  included  in  those  of  the  empire,  and  since  1881 
they  have  cea-sed  to  appear  under  .separate  heads.  The  p<-asants' 
arrears,  which  reached  6G3,685  in  1878,  have  notably  increased  since 
then,  ranging  from  200,000  to  600,000  roubles  in  cacli  government. 

Perhaps  no  other  country  in  Europe  had  so  many  towns  (453), 
for  the  most  part  enjoying  municipal  rights  according  to  tlio 
Magdeburg  and  Lithuanian  law,  as  Poland.  A  large  number  of 
them  (228)  remained,  however,  private  property,  or  proficrty  of  the 
crown.  In  .some  of  tliem  the  proprietors  only  levied  rents  on  the 
holders  of  land  that  had  been  built  upon  ;  while  in  others  tlia 
dominium  siipronum  was  maintained,  and  the  proprietor  cxactedi 
not  only  rents,  but  also  tares  from  the  inhabitants  and  visitors' 
ehuming  also  the  monopoly  of  selling  spirits,  &c 

After  the  last  insurrection,  all  towns  with  less  than  2000  inhab« 
itants  were  deprived  of  their  municipal  right-s,  and  were  included, 
under  the  designation  of  posculs,  in  the  gmi,tas.  The  seignorial 
rights  were  abolished  or  redeemed,  and  those  inhabitants  who  lived 
on  agriculture  received  allotments  of  land  re<Ieemed  by  the  state. 
But  the  spirit-selling  monopoly  was  maintained,  as  also  tin 
"  servitudes."  Viewed  with  suspicion  by  the  Russian  Government, 
the  Polish  towns  received  no  self-government  like  the  villages. 
Instead  of  the  former  elective  municipial  councils  (which  enjoyei' 
dc  jure  very  large  rights,  including  that  of  kceiiing  their  own  police, 
while  in  reality  they  were  under  the  rule  of  the  nobility),  Russian 
officials  were  nominated  and  entrusted  with  all  the  rights  of  the 
former  municipal  councils.  These  last  were,  however,  maintained 
to  carry  out  the  orders  of  the  military  chiefs.  The  new  mnnicirial 
law  of  1870,  first  introduced  at  Warsaw  and  then  applied  to  other 
towns,  reduced  the  functions  of  the  municipal  council  almost  to 
notiiing,  depriving  it  even  of  the  right  of  discussing  the  general 
budget,  which  is  established  by  a  special  administiative  committee 
aided  by  three  to  four  citizens  nominated  by  the  governor.  The 
burgomaster,  chosen  by  Government  out  of  three  candidates,  and 
the  members  of  the  municipality  (iawniki)  elected  by  one  -sectioi: 
of  the  citizens,  mostly  from  the  poorest  classes,  have  no  authority. 
The  burgomaster,  who  often  is  a  retired  private  soldier,  very  badly 
paid  (£18  to  £45  per  year),  is  entirely  dependent  upon  the  police 
and  the,  chief  of  the  district,  and  has  to  discharge  all  sorts  of 
functions  (bailiff',  policeman,  &c.)  which  have  nothing  to  do  with 
municipal  affaii-s. 

Poland  naturally  contains  the  fir.st  line  gf  the  fortifications  of 
the  Russian  empire  on  its  western  frontier.  These  fortifications, 
however,  are  intended  only  to  protect  the  country  to  the  east  of 
the  Vistula,  the  region  to  the  west  of  it,  which  contains  the  chief 
mining  and  manufacturing  districts  of  Poland,  remaining  quite  open 
to  invasion.  The  marshy  lowlands,  covered  with  forests  on  the 
western  bank  of  the  Vistula,  are  a  natural  defence  against  an  army 
advancing  from  the  west,  and  they  are  supported  by  the  fortresses 
on  the  Vistula  connected  by  the  Vistula  railway.  Their  centre  is 
at  Warsaw,  with  Novogeorgievsk,  fornvtrly  Mndlin,  in  the  north,  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Bug,  and  Ivangorod,  formerly  Demblin,  in  the 
south,  at  the  mouth  ot  the  Wieprz.  Novogeorgievsk  is  a  strongly 
fortified  camp,  which  requires  a  g.arrison  of  12,000  men,  and  may 
shelter  an  army  of  50,000  men.  The  town  Sierock,  at  the, junc- 
tion of  the  Bug  and  Naiew,  is  now  fortified  to  protect  the  rear  of 
Novogeorgievsk. 

The  citadel  of  Warsaw  protects  the  railway  bridge  over  the  Vistnla, 
and  six  forts — rather  out  of  date,'  however — protect  the  eai>ital. 
The  fortress  of  Ivangorod,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Vistula,  is  now 
supported  by  six  forts,  four  of  which  are  situated  on  the  right  bank 
and  two  on  the  left.  The  Vistula  line  of  fortresses  has,  however, 
the  great  disadvantage  of  being  easily  taken  from  the  rear  bj 
armies  advancing  from  East  Prussia  or  Galicia.  Urest-Litow.sky,  at 
the  western  issue  from  the  marshes  of  the  Pripet,  the  towns  ol 
Dubno  and  Lutsk,  now  about  to  be  fortified,  and  Bobruisk 
constitute  the  second  lino  of  defence. 

The  educational  institutions  of  Poland  are  represented  by  a 
university  with  1000  students  in  1881  ;  18  gymnasiums  and  8  pro- 
gymnasiums  for  boys,  with  8269  scholars  in  1878  ;  3  "  real-schulcn," 
with  914  scholars  ;  and  3279  primary  schools,  with  113,084  boys  and 
67,260  girls.  There  are  also  excellent  technical  sehool.s,  an  iusti 
tute  of  agriculture  and  forestry  at  Nowa-Alcxandrya,  and  several 
seminaries  for  teachers.  In  1881  the  number  of  sclinlurs  wr.s  1  to 
35  of  the  aggregate  population,  only  19  per  cent,  of  the  children 
of  school  age  receiving  instruction  in  school.  The  Jewish  childicn 
mostly  ore  taught  in  the  hcdcrs,  where  they  receive  almost  no  in 
struction  at  all. 

The  school  is  {lie  great  means  used  'by  the  Russian  Government 
for  the  so-called  "  Russification  "  of  Poland.  The  leaching  in  the 
former  S:iola  O'livna,  now  the  university  of  Warsaw  (even  that  of 
Polish  literature),  has  been  carried  on  in  Rnssian  since  1873,  both 
by  a  few  Polish  professors  and  by  the  new  R«s,sian  ones.  Polish  Is 
taught  in  primary  and  secondary  schools  only  twice  a  week,  in  the 
lower  classes  ;  and  the  scholars  are  prohibited  from  speaking  I'ldish 
within  the  walls  of  the  lyeeums.  In  all  olhcial  communiiations 
Russianjs  obligatory,  and  a  gradual  cliininatiou  of  Poles  from  the 


312 


P  O  L  — P  O  L 


administration  is  steadily  going  on,  Polish  cmiiloyes  being  either 
limited  in  number  (to  a  fourth,  for  instance,  for  the  examining 
magistrates),  or  else  totally  excluded  from  certain  administrations 
(such  as  that  of  certain  railways).  The  vexatious  measures  of 
Kussian  rule  kepp  up  a  continuous  feeling  of  discontent ;  and, 
though  it  was  allowed  in  1864  that  the  agrarian  measures  would 
conciliate  the  mass  of  the  peasantry  with  the  Russian  Government, 
it  now  appears  that  the  peasants,  while  gaining  in  those  feel- 
ings of  self-respect  and  independence  which  were  formerly  impossible 
to  them,  are  not  accommodating  themselves  to  Russian  rule  ;  the 
national  feeling  is  rising  into  activity  with  them  as  formerly  with 
the  szlachta,  ami  it  grows  every  day. 

There  are  27  towns  the  population  of  which  exceeded  10,000  in- 
habitants in  1880-82,  and  66  towns  having  a  population  of  more 
than  5000.  The  list  of  the  former  is  as  follows  :— Warsaw  (1882), 
406,260  ;  Augustow,  11,100  ;  Biata,  19,450  ;  Cz^stochowo,  15,520  ; 
Garwolin,  14,620;  Kalisz,  16,400;  Kalwarya,  10,610;  Kielce, 
10,050  ;  Konska  Wola,  14,300  ;  Kutno,  13,210  ;  task,  10,810; 
L<5dz,  49,590;  tomza,  15,000;  Lublin,  34,980;  Lukow,  11,030; 
Mtawa,  10,010;  Piotrkow,  23,050;  Ptock  (1883),  19,640;  Radom 
(1833),  19,870;  Sjdomierz,  14,080;  Siedlce,  12,320;  Sieradz, 
15,040;  Suwatki,  18,640;  Turek,  11,500;  Wtoctawek,  20,660; 
"Wtodaw'a,  17,980  ;  Zgerz,  13,360.  (P.  A.  K.) 

POLARITY  AND  ENANTIOMORPHISM.  Any  figure, 
sucli  as  a  solid  of  revolution,  whicli  has  one  line  in  it  in 
reference  to  whicli  the  figure  is  symmetrical  may  be  said 
to  have  an  axis,  and  the  points  at  which  the  axis  cuts  the 
surface  of  the  figure  are  poles.  But  the  term  polarity 
when  applied  to  material  figures  or  substances  is  usually 
confined  to  cases  where  there  are  not  only  ..  definite  axis 
an'd  poles,  but  where  the  two  poles  have  distinct  characters 
which  enable  us  to  recognize  them  and  say  which  is 
which.     It  is  in  this  sense  that  the  word  is  used  here. 

Two  figures  or  two  portions  of  matter  are  said  to  be 
enantiomorph  to  each  other  when  these  forms  are  not 
superposable,  i.e.,  the  one  will  not  fit  into  a  mould  which 
fits  the  other,  but  the  one  is  identical  in  form  with  the 
mirror  image  of  the  other. 

Polarity.  — As  examples  of  polarity  we  may  take  an  awn 
of  barley  or  a  cat's  tail,  in  which  we  recognize  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  two  poles  or  ends,  which  we  may  call  A 
and  B  by  finding  that  it  is  easy  to  stroke  from  say  A  to  B 
but  not  in  the  opposite  direction.  As  an  example  of 
enantiomorphism  we  may  take  our  two  hands,  which  will 
not  fit  the  same  mould  or  glove,  but  the  one  of  which 
resembles  in  figure  the  mirror  image  of  the  other. 

It  will  be  seen  by  and  by  that  there  is  a  close  relation 
between  polarity  and  enantiomorphism. 

In  the  examples  of  polarity  just  given  the  condition 
occurs  because  the  parts  of  the  body  are  arranged  in  the 
direction  of  the  axis  in  a  particular  order  which  is  different 
when  read  backwards.  The  simplest  expression  for  such 
a  state  of  matters  will  be  found  in  the  case  of  a  substance 
composed  of  equiil  numbers  of  three  different  kinds  of 
particles,  these  particles  being  arranged  along  the  axis  in 
the  order 

A  I  abcabc abc  I  B, 

where  A  and  B  are  poles  and  a,  b,  c  particles  of  three 
different  kinds.  Of  course  the  same  may  occur  with  a 
more  complicated  constitution,  the  condition  being  that 
the  cyclical  order  read  from  A  to  B  is  different  from  that 
read  from  B  to  A.  Even  with  particles  all  of  the  same 
kind  we  can  imagine  this  sort  of  polarity  produced  by  such 
an  arrangement  as 


\  aa  a    a 


.«    B. 


where  the  density  varies  periodically  as  we  pass  along  the 
axis,  but  so  that  the  order  of  variation  is  different  in 
passing  from  A  to  B  and  from  B  to  A.  There  is  another 
sort  of  polarity  produced  also  by  an  arrangement  such  as 
that  described  above,  but  here  not  along  the  axis  but 
about  it.  As  we  took  a  cat's  tail  as  an  example  of  the  one, 
60  we  may  take  a  sable  muff  as  an  example  of  the  other. 
As  we  stroke  the  tuil  in  one  dirctioo  along  the  axis,  so 


we  stroke  the  muff  in  one  sense  about  the  axis.  This 
arrangement  also  produces  polarity,  for  there  is  a  real 
difference  between  the  two  ends  of  the  muff.  The  one  is 
that  into  which  we  put  our  right  hand,  the  other  that  into 
which  we  put  our  left  hand  if  the  fur  is  to  lie  downwards 
in  front.  If  we  reverse  the  ends  we  find  the  fur  sticking 
up  in  front,  and  we  have  thus  as  little  difficulty  in  distin- 
guishing the  two  poles  from  one  another  in  this  as  in  the 
former  sort  of  polarity. 

We  can  easily  imagine  the  particles  of  a  compound  sub- 
stance to  be  arranged  so  as  to  produce  this  polarity.  To 
take  a  simple  case, — the  molecules  of  the  substance  may 

be  formed  of  three  atoms  a,  b,  and  c,  arranged  a     with 

the  planes  of  the  molecules  all  at  right  angles  to  the 
axis,  so  that  on  turning  the  substance  about  the  axis  in 
one  sense  the  atoms  in  every  molecule  follow  each  other  in 
the  order  abc,  and  of  course  in  the  opposite  order  when  the 
rotation  is  reversed. 

In  these  examples  the  polarity  is  due  to  an  arrangement 
of  the  matter  at  rest,  but  both  kinds  of  polarity  may  be 
produced  by  motion.  Thus  a  rotating  body  has  polarity 
of  the  second  kind;  the  axis  is  the  axis  of  rotation,  and  the 
two  poles  differ  from  each  other  as  the  two  ends  of  a  muff 
do.  A  wire  along  which  a  current  of  electricity  is  passing 
has  polarity  of  the  first  kind  ;  and  a  magnet,  in  which 
currents  of  electricity  may  be  supposed  to  circulate  about 
the  axis,  has  polarity  of  the  second  kind. 

There  is  an  important  difference  between  these  two 
kinds  of  polarity  We  have  seen  that  they  depend  on  two 
different  conditions — the  one  on  an  arrangement  of  matter 
or  motion  along  the  axis,  the  other  on  a  similar  arrange- 
ment about  the  axis.  This  gives  rise  to  a  difference  in 
their  relation  to  their  mirror  image. 

If  we  hang  up  a  cat's  tail  by  one  end,  say  the  A  end,  in 
front  of  a  mirror,  we  see  in  the  mirror  the  image  of  a  cat's 
tail  hanging  by  its  A  end.  But  if  we  hang  up  a  muff  by 
one  end,  say  the  right-hand  end,  before  a  mirror,  we  see 
in  the  mirror  the  image  of  a  muff  hanging  by  its  left-hand 
end.  If  we  put  our  hands  into  the  muff  in  the  usuai  way 
and  stand  before  the  mirror  we  see  a  person  with  his 
hands  in  a  muff  in  the  usual  way.  But  his  right  and  left 
hands  correspond  to  our  left  and  right  hands  respectively, 
and  the  right  and  left  ends  of  the  muS  in  the  mirror 
are  the  images  of  the  left  and  right  ends  respectively  of 
the  real  muff.  Thus  the  mirrcr  image  of  a  body  having 
polarity  of  the  second  kind  has  its  polarity  reversed. 

But  the  muff  and  its  image  are  not  truly  enantiomorph. 
They  differ  in  position  but  in  nothing  else.  Turn  the  one 
round  and  it  will  fit  the  other. 

Magnetic  and  electric  polarity  having  been  already  dis- 
cussed under  Electeicity  and  IIagnetism,  we  shall  here 
consider  some  cases  of  crystalline  polarity. 

Both  kinds  of  polarity  occur  in  crystals. 

We  have  no  direct  means  of  ascertaining  how  the 
ultimate  particles  of  a  crystal  are  arranged,  but  it  seems 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  there  is  a  relation  between  the 
form  of  the  crystal  and  the  structure  of  its  smallest  parts ; 
and,  when  we  find  the  crystals  of  particular  substances 
always  showing  polarity  of  the  one  or  the  other  kind,  we 
naturally  suspect  that  this  is  the  external  indication  of 
such  an  arrangement  of  the  particles  as  has  been  shown 
above  to  be  capable  of  producing  structural  polarity.  Of 
crystalline  polarity  of  the  first  kind  the  most  striking 
instances  are  tourmaline  and  electric  calamine  (hydrated 
silicate  of  zinc),  forms  of  which  are  shown  in  figs.  1  and  2, 
in  which  it  will  be  seen  that  the  crystals  are  not  similarly 
terminated  at  the  two  ends.  It  is  this  kind  of  crystalline 
polarity  (often  called  "  hemimorphism ")  which  (as  was 
first  observed  by  Haiiy  and  more  fully  investigated  by 


POLARITY 


ai3 


Gustav  Rose  and  by  Hankel)  is  associated  with  pyroeiec- 
tricity  (see  Mineralogy,  vol.  xvi.  p.  376).    It  is  worthy  of 


Ffo.  1. — Tourmaline. 


Fio.  2.— Electric  Calamine, 


W>*e  that  the  crystalline  polarity  and  the  physical  (electric) 
polarity  occurring  in  the  same  substances  are  both  of  the 
kind  not  inverted  by  reflexion  in  a  mirror. 

•  As  an  instance  of  the  same  kind  of  crystalline  polarity 
of  a  somewhat  rnore  complicated  character,  also  associated 
with  pyroelectricity,  we  may  take  boracite.  The  crystals  of 
this  mineral  exhibit  combinations  of  the  '"ube,  the  rhomb)'' 
dodecahedron,  and  the  tetrahedron,  as 
shown  in  fig.  3.  If  four  lines  are 
Jr»wn  corresponding  to  the  four  dia- 
gonals of  the  cube,  it  will  be  observed 
that  at  the  two  ends  of  each  of  these 
axes  the  crystal  is  differently  developed. 
(In  the  figure  one  of  these  axes  is  in- 
dicated by  the  dotted  line.)  These 
axes,  therefore,  resemble  the  single 
jixis  in  tourmaline  and  electric  calamine,  and  are  also  axes 
of  pyroelectricity,  the  end  at  which  the  tetrahedral  face  is 
ijtuated  being  the  antilogous  pole.^ 

Scheelite,  apatite,  ilmenite,  and  fergusonite  are  examples 


Fio.  8.— Boraclfe. 


Fio.  4. — Ilmenltei 


Flo.  S.— Apiitlto. 


of  crystalline  polarity  of  the  second  kind.  Figs.  4,  5,  and  6 
are  representations  of  forms  of  ilmenite, 
apatite,  and  fergusonite. 

Crystalline  polarity  of  both  kinds  no 
doubt  depends  on  the  arrangement  of 
the  molecules  and  on  their  structure; 
it  manifests  itself  by  the  occurrence 
of  hcmihcdral  or  hemimorphic  forms. 
A  erystal  may  have  a  polar  .structure 
although  these  external  marks  of  pol- 
arity are  absent,  just  ?.s  the  faces 
IKirallcl  to  planes  of  cleavage  do  not 
ai)i)ear  on  every  crystal. 

Another   kind   of    contrast  between 
the    two    coniijlcmentary    hemihedral     '"'°-  "•— fereusoniio. 
forms  of   the  same  substance   may  be  mentioned  here. 

'  Upon  some  crystals  of  bor.icile  the  facaa  of  both  tctralicdia  occur. 
They  can,  however,  be  easily  distinguished  from  one  anotlicr.  The 
faces  of  the  tetrahedron  represented  in  the  figure  are  smooth  and  shin- 
ing, while  those  of  tl)e  opposite  tctralicdron  are  rough  and  usually 
much  smaller.  It  has  been  suggested  that  boracite  is  only  apparently 
rcgnUr,  and  that  each  crystal  U  really  a  group  of  ciglit  jiyraraids 
with  their  apices  in  the  centre  of  the  group.  For  a  full  discussion  of 
the  relation  between  pyroelectricity  and  crystalline  form  the  reader  is 
ruferreil  to  a  series  of  papers  by  Prufes^r  Hankel  in  Trans.  R.  Saxon 
ffoc.  0/ Sciences,  1857-79. 

19-13" 


Marbach  observed  that  different  specimens  of  iron 
pyrites  (and  also  of  cobalt  glance)  have  very  different 
thermoelectric  characters,  differing  indeed  from  on^ 
another  more  than  bismuth  and  antimony.  Gustav  Rose 
showed  that  these  thermoelectricallj  opposite  kinds  are 
also  crystallographically  opposite.  There  is  indeed  no 
geometrical  difference  between  two  opposite  hemihedral 
forms  in  the  regular  system,  but  Rose  detected  a  differ- 
ence in  the  lustre  and  striation  of  the  faces  of  the  two 
kinds,  and  by  examining  the  rare  cases  in  which,  the 
two  opposite  pentagonal  dodecahedra  or  tetragonal 
icositetrahedra  occur  on  the  same  crystal  proved  that 
the  one  surface  character  belongs  to  the  one,  the  other 
surface  character  to  the  other  of  the  two  complementary 
hemihedra. 

Enaniioviorphism. — A  figure  having  polarity  of  the 
first  kind  gives  a  mirror  image  resembling  itself  in  form 
and  in  position;  a  figure  having  polarity  of  the  second 
kind  gives  a  rnirror  image  resembling  itself  in  form  but 
not  in  position — the  poles  being  inverted.  A  figure  the 
axis  of  which  has  both  kinds  of  polarity  will  therefore 
give  a  mirror  image  not  superposable  to  the  figure  itself, 
because  the  polarity  of  the  second  kind  is  reversed  while 
that  of  the  first  kind  remains  unchanged.  The  figure 
and  its  mirror  image  are  enantiomorph,  as  well  as  polar. 
We  can  construct  a  figure  which  is  enantiomorph  to  its 
mirror  image  but  not  polar, 
Imagine  a  muff  so  made 
that  in  one  half  the  fur 
lies  the  one  way,  and  the 
opposite  way  in  the  other 
half  (fig.  7,  where  the 
arrow-heads  indicate  the 
lie  of  the  fur).  In  which- 
ever way  we  put  our  hands 
into  this  muff  one  end  will 
bo  wrong ;  the  muff  in  the  figure  has,  in  fact,  two  right- 
hand  endc.  It  has  therefore  no  polarity ;  the  two  ends 
are  exactly  alike.  But  there  are  two  ways  in  which  sncb 
a  non-polar  muff  could  be  made — with  two  right-hand 
ends  as  in  the  figure,  or  with  two  left-hand  ends,  and 
these  two  forms  are  enaritioniorph.  A  helix  or  screw  has 
similar  properties  (compare  fig.  8  with  fig.  7) ;  if  uniform 
it  is  non-polar,  but  .is  either  right-  or  left-handed.  Hence 
the  property  which  each  of  two  enantiomorph  bodies  pos- 
sesses has  been  called  by  Sir  William  Thom.so'n  '.'helicoidal 
asymmetry." 

As  we  have  crystals  exhibiting  polarity  of  both  kinds, 
so  we  have  also  enantiomorph  crystals,  indeed  the  word 
enantiomorph  was  first  used  by  Naumann  to  express  the 
relation  between  such  crystals.  The  crystallographic 
theory  of  enantiomorph  crystals  has  been  very  fully 
worked  out.  We  may  divider  them  into  two  groups — 
(1)  tlioso  in  which  the  helicoidal  asymmetry  depends 
on  the  presence  of  tctartohcdral  forms  of  the  regular 
or  of  the  hexagonal  system,  and  (2)  those  in  which  it 
depends  on  tho  presence  of  hemihedral  forms  of  the 
rhombic  system  or  hemimoriibic  forms  of  tho  monoclinic 
system. 

In  the  first  group  tho  asymmetry  seems  to  be  produced 
by  tho  manner  in  which  tlio  molecules,  themselves  sym- 
metrical, are  arranged  in  tho  crystal.  In  the  second  group 
tho,  molecules  themselves  appear  to  have  helicoidal  asym- 
metry. This  is  shown  by  tho  action  of  these  substances 
on  polarized  light.  Wo  shall  tako  examples  from  each 
group.  If  we  allow  a  solution  of  sodium  chlorate  to 
crystallize  we  find  that  tho  crystals,  which  belong  to  the 
regular  system,  arc  of  two  kinds  enantiomorph  to  each 
other.  These  are  represented  in  fig.  9.  The  enantio- 
morphism  depends  on  the  combination  of  the  tetrahedron 


Fig.  7. 


Fig.  8. 


314 


POLARITY 


and  the  pentagonal  dodecahedron.^  Now  when  a  ray  of 
plane  polarized  light  is  passed  through  one  of  these 
crystals  the  plane  of  polarization  is  rotated,  the  amount  of 
rotation  being  proportional  to  the  length  of  the  pat)i  in 


Fig.  9. — Sodiam  Chlorate,     a,  right-handed  ;  &,  left-handed. 

the  crystal.  The  crystals  having  the  form  a  rotate  to  the 
right,  those  having  the  form  6  to  the  left.  They  are 
therefore  optically  as  well  as  crystallographically  enantio- 
morph.  But  a  solution  of  sodium  chlorate  is  without 
action  on  the  plane  of  polarization,  even  if  the  solution  be 
made  by  dissolving  only  right-handed  or  only  left-handed 
crystals,  and  if  a  crystal  be  fused  the  fused  mass  is 
optically  inactive,  so  that,  it  would  seem  that  the  optical 
activity  depends  on  the  arrangement  of  the  molecules  in 
the  crystal  and  not  on  any  enantiomorphisra  in  the  mole- 
cules. The  enantiomorphism  of  quartz  crystals  is  indi- 
cated by  the  presence  of  faces  of  a  tetartohedral  form 
(vol.  xvi.  p.  389).  The  two  kinds  of  crystals  rotate  the 
plane  of  polarization  equally,  but  in  opposite  senses,  when 
a  plane  polarized  ray  is  passed  through  a  section  cut  at 
right  angles  to  the  axis  of  the  crystal.  Here  also  the 
optical  activity  ceases  when  crystalline  structure  is  de- 
stroyed by  fusion  or  solution. 

Right-handed  and  left-handed  taxtaTic  acids  crystallize 
in  enantiomorph  forms  (fig.  10).     Their  solutions  are  optic- 


FiG.  10.— Tartaric  Acid,     a,  right-handed ;  6,  left-handed. 


ally  active,  the  amount  of  the  rotation  for  the  same 
strength  of  solution  and  the  same  length  of  path  in  it 
being  the  same  in  both  acids,  but  the  sense  of  the  rotation 
is  right-handed  in  the  one  and  left-handed  in  the  other. 
It  is  clear  that  here  we  have  to  do  with  enantiomorph 
molecules.  In  ordinary  physical  properties  such  as  den- 
sity, solubility,  refracting  power — in  short,  in  everything 
not  involving  right-  or  left-handedness — the  acids  are  iden- 
tical. When  mixed  in  equal  proportions  they  unite  and 
form  racemic  acid  which  is  optically  inactive,  and  from 
racemic  acid  we  can  by  various  meana  recover  unchanged 
the  right  and  left-handed  tartaric  acids.  We  now  know 
a  considerable  nvimber  of  cases  where,  as  in  that  of 
the  two  tartaric  acids,  both  enantiomorphs  have  been 
discovered,  and  manv  where  only  one  has  as  yet  been 
found. 

It  is  natural  that  we  should  ask  what  peculiarity  of 
constitution  can  give  a  molecule  this  helicoidal  asymmetry? 
A  very  ingenious  answer  to  this  question  was  given'simul- 
taneously  and  independently  by  the  French  chemist 
Le  Bel  and  the  Dutch  chemist  Van  't  Hoff.    We  shall 

•  This  comliuiation  is  regarded  as  tetartohedral  because  the  tetra- 
hedron and  the  pentagonal  dodecahedron  belong  to  two  different  classes 
of  hemihedral  forms. 


give  a  short  statement  of  the  essential  points  of  this  in- 
teresting theory. 

All  the  known  substances  which  are  optically  active  in 
solution  are  compounds  of  carbon,  and  may  be  regarded 
as  derived  from  marsh  gas,  a  compound  of  one  atom  of 
carbon  and  four  of  hydrogen,  by  the  replacement  of  hydro- 
gen by  other  elements  or  compound  radicals.  Now  we 
do  not  know  how  the  atoms  of  hydrogen  are  actually 
arranged  relatively  to  each  other  and  to  the  atom  of  carbon 
in  the  molecule  of  marsh  gas,  but,  if  we  may  make  a  sup- 
position on  the  subject,  the  most  simple  is  to  imagine  the 
four  hydrogen  atoms  at  the  apices  of  a  regular  tetrahedron 
in  the  centre  of  which  is  the  carbon  atom  as  in  the  diagrams 
(fig.  11),  where  C 
represents  the  posi-  , 
tlon  of  the  carbon 
atom  and  a,  /S,  y,  8 
that  of  the  four 
atoms  of  hydrogen. 

If  these  hydrogen 
atoms  are  replaced 
by  atoms  of  other 
elements  or  by  compound  radicals  we  should  expect  a 
change  of  form  of  the  tetiahedron.  If  two  or  more  of  the 
atoms  or  radicals  united  to  the  carbon  atom  are  similar 
there  is  only  one  way  of  arranging  them,  but  if  they  are 
all  different  there  are  two  ways  in  which  they  may  be 
arranged,  as  indicated  in  the  figures.  It  will  be  seen  that 
these  two  arrangements  are  enantiomorph.  In  the  figures 
the  tetrahedron  is  represented  as  regular,  but  if  the  dis- 
tance from  C  depends  on  the  nature  of  the  atom,  the 
tetrahedron,  when  a,  /3,  y,  and  S  are  all  different,  will  not 
be  symmetrical,  but  its  two  forms  will  be  enantiomorph. 
A  carbon  atom  combined  with  four  diff'erent  atoms  or  com- 
pound radicals  may  therefore  be  called  an  asymmetric 
carbon  atom. 

Now  all  substances  of  ascertained  constitution,  tae 
solutions  of  which  are  optically  active,  contain  an  asym- 
metric carbon  atom,  and  their  molecules  should  therefore, 
on  the  above  hypothesis,  have  helicoidal  asymmetry. 

The  converse  is  not  generally  true.  Many  substances 
contain,  an  asymmetric  carbon  atom  but  are  optically 
inactive.  It  is  easy  to  reconcile  this  with  the  theory; 
indeed,  a  little  consideration  will  show  that  it  is  a  necessary 
consequence  of  it. 

Let  us  suppose  that  we  have  the  symmetrical  combina- 
tion of  C  with  a,  OL,  P,  y  and  that  we  treat  the  substance 
in  such  a  way  that  one  a  is  replaced  by  8.  The  new 
arrangement  is  asymmetrical,  and  will  be  right  or  left  as 
the  one  or  the  other  a  is  replaced.  But  the  chances  for 
the  two  are  equal,  and  therefore,  as  the  number  of  mole- 
cules in  any  quantity  we  can  deal  with  is  very  great,  the 
ratio  of  the  number  of  right-handed  molecules  in  the  new 
substance  to  the  number  of  left-handed  ones  ■n^ill  be 
sensibly  that  of  unity.  It  is  therefore  evident  that  by 
ordinary  chemical  processes  we  cannot  expect  to  produce 
optically  active  from  optically  inactive  substances ;  all 
that  we  can  get  is  an  inactive  mixture  of  equal  quantities 
of  the  two  oppositely  active  substances. 

As  these  two  substances  have  identical  properties  in 
every  respect  where  right-  or  left-handedness  is  not  in- 
volved, the  problem  of  separating  them  is  a  difficult  one. 
We  may  note  three  distinct  ways  in  which  the  separation 
can  be  effected. 

(1)  By  crystallization.  For  example,  the  right  and  left 
double  tartrates  of  soda  and  ammonia  crystallize  in  enan- 
tiomorph forms  (fig.  12)  and  are  less  soluble  in  water  than 
the  double  racemate  formed  by  their  union.  If  therefore 
racemic  acid  (the  optically  inactive  compound  of  e(|aal 
quantities  of  right  and   left  tartaric  acids)  is  half  neutral- 


F  O  L  — P  O  L 


313 


Ized  with  ^oda  and  half  with  ammonia,  we  ol:itaiii  an 
Optically  inactive  solution  containing  a  mixture  of  the  two 
double  salts.  If  this  solution  is  allowed  to  crystallize 
each  salt  crystallizes  independently,  and  the  crystals  can 
be  separated  by  picking  them  out.  Further,  a  super- 
teturated  solution  of  flie  one  double  salt  is  not  made  to 
Ciystallize  by  contact  with  a  crystal  of  the- other,  so^that 


'Fig.  12.— Double  Taitiate  of  Soda  and  Ammonia,    a,  light-handed; 
b,  lett-handcd. 

if  we  make  a  supersaturated  solution  of  the  inactive  mix- 
ture and  drop  into  the  vessel,  at  different  places,  two 
oi-ystals  one  of  the  right  the'  other  of  the  left  salt,  crystal- 
lization occurs  at  each  place,  at  the  one  of  the  one  kind 
and  at  the  other  of  the  other. ' 

(2)  By  the  action  of  another  optically  active  substance. 
While  the  salts  of  the  two  opposite  tartaric  acids  with  an 
inactive  base  are  precisely  alike  in  solubility,  density,  and 
other  physical  characters,  and,  if  they  crystallize,  crystal- 
lize in  the  same  form  (or  in  enantioraorph  forms),  it  is  not 
at  all  so  when  the  base  is  optically  active;  thus  right 
itartaric  acid  forma  a  crystalline  salt  with  left  asparagine, 
Svhile  with  the  same  base  left  tartaric  acid  gives  an 
tincrystallizable  compound. 

(3)  By  the  action  of  living  ferments.  The  minute  fungi 
which  act  as  ferments  do  not  show  any  right-  or  left-hand- 
edness  as  far  as  their  obvious  anatomical  structure  is  con- 
cerned, but  Pasteur  has  shown  that  some  of  them  are,  if 
ive  may  use  the  e.xpression,  physiologically  asymmetrical. 
^s  an  example  we  may  give  the  very  interesting  case  of 
jnandelic  acid.  This  acid,  which  stands  to  benzoic  alde- 
byde  (bitter  almond  oil)  in  the  same  relation  as  lactic  acid 
does  to  common  aldehyde,  contains  one  asymmetric  carbon 
atom  in  its  molecula  It  is  optically  inactive,  and  there- 
fore, if  Le  Bel  and  Van  't  Hoff's  theory  is  true,  it  must  be 
a  mixture  of  two  oppositely  active  acids.  Now  Lewko- 
witsch  found  that  when  Penicilium  glaucim  is  cultivated  in 


a  solution  of  mandelic  acid  fermentation  takes  place.  Thiit 
goes  on  until  exactly  half  of  the  acid  is  decomposed,  and 
what  remains  has  all  the  properties  of  mandelic  acid,  but 
is  optically  active  ;  it  is  the  right-handed  component  of  the 
mixture,  the  growing  fungus  having  consumed  the  other. 

There  is  an  interesting  peculiarity  of  tartaric  acid  dis- 
covered by  Pasteur  (to  whom  we  owe  nearly  all  our  know- 
ledge of  the  relations  between  optical  activity  and  crystalline 
form  in  tartaric  acid)  which  is  of  importanceiin  connexion 
with  th,e  theory  we  have  just  been  explaining. 

We  have  not  only  right  and  left  tartaric  acid  and 
tacemic  acid,  the  inactive  compound  of  the  two,  but  also 
a  kind  of  tartaric  acid  which  is  inactive  but  incapable  ol 
being  separated  into  the  two  oppositely  active  acid^' 

.Now  the  chemical  formula  of  tartaric  acid  ia 
O    H      H      O 


H 

II      I        I 

c— c*— c*- 

I    I     I 

0    0      0 

I    I     I 

H    H      H 


It  will  be  observed  that  the  carbon  atoms  marked  *  are 
asymmetric,  and  that  they  occupy  precisely  similar  posi-< 
tions  in  the  molecule.  Each  of  them  is  combined  with 
H,  OH,  COOH  arid  CH(OH)COOH.  If  in  both  o« 
them  these  four  things  are  arranged  in  the  same  order 
there  is  helicoidal  asymmetry — the  one  order  giving  the 
one,  the  other  the  other  enantiomorph  form.  But  if  the 
one  has  one  order  and  the  other  the  opposite,  then  thcra 
is  in  the  whole  molecule  no  helicoidal  asymmetry,  as  the 
two  halves  exactly  balance  one  another.  There  is  not,  as 
in  racemic  acid,  a  compound  of  one  molecule  of  each  of  the 
two  opposite  active  acids,  but  rather  a  compound  of  half 
a  molecule  of  each,  and  we  should  not  expect  such  a  com- 
pound to  be  easily  separable.  Jungfleisch  has  shown  that 
if  any  one  of  the  four  tartaric  acids  (right,  left,  racemic, 
and  inactive)  is  mixed  with  a  little  water  and  kept  for  some 
time  at  a  temperature  of  about  200°  C,  it  is  converted  into 
a  mixture  of  racemic  and  inactive  tartaric  acids,  so  that, 
as  racemic  acid  can  be  divided  into  right  and  left  tartaric 
acids;  it  is  possible  to  prepare  any  one  of  the  four  froirt 
any  other.  (a.  c.  b.) 

POLARIZATION  OF  LIGHT.     See  Light  and  Wavt: 
Theory 


POLAR     REGIONS 


THE  polar  regions  extend  respectively  from  the  Arctic 
and  Antarctic  Circles,  in  66°  32'  N.  and  S.,  to  the  north 
and  south  poles,  the  circles  being  1408  geographical  miles 
from  the  poles.  The  intense  cold  and  the  difficulties  of 
ice  navigation  have  made  the  discovery  and  examination 
of  these  regions  a  slow  and  hazardous  task.  Millions  of 
8(|uaro  mik-s  are  still  entirely  unknown.  In  the  present 
article  the  history  of  the  progress  of  discovery  within  the 
north  polar  region  will  be  traced,  and  .some  account  of  its 
physical  geography  will  follow.  A  similar  review  of  work 
hi  the  south  polar  region  will  conclude  the  article. 

North  Polar  PuidioN. 

The  Arctic  Circle  is  a  ring  running  a  little  south  of  the 
northern  shores  of  America,  Asia,  and  Europe,  so  that  those 
shores  form  a  fringe  within  the  polar  region,  and  are  its 
boundary  to  the  south,  except  at  three  openings,  —  those 
of  the  North  Atlantic,  of  Davis  Strait,  and  of  Ikhring's 
(more  properly  Bering's)  Strait. 

The  width  of  the  a[ii)roach  to  this  region  by  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  in  its  narrowest  part,  is  GGO  niilus.  from  the 
Norwegian  Islands  of   Lofoten  to  Cape  Hodgson  on  the 


east  coast  of  Greenland.  The  width  of  the  approach  by 
Davis  Strait  in  the  narrowest  part,  which  is  nearly  on  tho 
Arctic  Circle,  is  165  miles;  and  tho  width  of  Behring 
Strait  is  4.")  miles.  Thus  out  of  the  whole  ring  of  8640 
miles  along  which  the  Arctic  Circle  passes  about  900 
miles  is  over  water.  This  great  environment  of  land  is  an 
important  feature  in  the  physical  condition  of  tho  north 
polar  region.  It  influences  the  currents  and  tho  movements 
of  ice,  which  are  still  further  affected  by  the  archipelagos 
lying  to  tho  northward  of  the  fringing  coast-lines.  The 
larger  opening  into  the  north  polar  region  by  way  of  thai 
Atlantic  is  divided  from  Davis  Strait  by  the  vast  mass  of 
Greenland,  which,  extending  for  an  unknown  distance  to 
the  north,  cros.ses  the  Arctic  Circle  and  ends  in  a  point  at 
Cape  Farewell  in  59'  48'  N.  lat.  It  was  inevitable  that 
the  routes  across  the  Arctic  Circle  by  tho  Atlantic  and  Davis 
Strait  should  first  become  known,  because  these  openings 
to  the  polar  regions  are  nearest  to  the  tomporatc  regions 
inhabited  by  tlie-cxploring  nations  of  Kuro[)0. 

A  rumour  respecting  Thule,  an  island  on'.the  Arctic 
Circle,  first  brought  by  Pvtmeas  (</.t'.),  and  afterwards 
doubted,  was  the  extent  of  the  knowledge  of  the  norl'' 


31G 


POLAR      REGIONS 


polar  regions  with  which  the  ancients  can  be  credited. 
But  in  the  9th  century  some  Irish  monks  really  appear  to. 
have  visited  Iceland.  The  monk  Dicuil,  writing  about 
825,  says  that  he  had  information  from  brethren  who  had 
been  at  Thule  during  several  months,  and  they  reported 
that  there  was  no  darkness  at  the  summer  solstice.    ' 

King  Alfred  told  the  story  of  the  first  polar  voyages 
undertaken  for  discovery  and  the  acquisition  of  knowledge, 
in  his  very  free  translation  of  Orosius.  In  the  first  book 
he  inserted  the  narrative  of  the  voyages  of  Other  and 
Wulfstan,  related  to  him'  by  the  former  explorer  himself. 
The  localities  mentioned  in "  the  story  cannot  now  be 
identified,  but  it  seems  probable  that  Other  rounded  the 
North  Cape,  and  visited  the  coast  of  Lapland. 

The  Norsemen  of  the  Scandinavian  peninsula,  after 
colonizing  Iceland,  were  the  first  to  make  permanent  settle- 
ments on  the  shores  of  Greenland,  and  to  extend  their 
voyages  beyond  the  Arctic  circle  along  the  western  coast 
■of  that  vast  glacier-covered  land.  See  Greenland.  The 
Norse  colonies  in  Greenland  at  Brattelid  and  Einarsfjord 
did  not  extend  farther  north  than  65°,  but  in  the  summer 
time  the  settlers  carried  on  their  seal  hunting  far  beyond 
the  Arctic  circle.  One  of  their  runic  stones  was  found  in 
Ci  cairn  in  latitude  73°  N.,  the  inscription  showing  that 
the  date  of  its  being  left  there  was  1235.  Another  expe- 
dition is  believed,  on  good  grounds,  to  have  reached  a 
latitude  of  75°  46'  N.  in  Barrow  Strait,  about  the  year 
1266.  Their  ordinary  hunting  grounds  were  in  73°  N.,  to 
the  north  of  the  modern  Danish  settlement  of  Upernivik. 
For  the  visits  of  the  Greenlanders  to  the  American  coasts 
see  America,  vol  i.  p.  706. 

The  last  trace  of  communication  between  Greenland 
and  Norway  was  in  1347.  The  black  death  broke  out  in 
Norway  and  the  far  off  colony  was  forgotten ;  while  the 
settlers  were  attacked  by  Skrellings  or  Eskimo,  who  over- 
tan  the  West  Bygd  in  1349.  Ivar  Bardsen,  the  steward 
to  the  bishopric  of  Gardar  in  the  East  Bygd,  and  a  native 
of  Greenland,  was  sent  to  convey  help  to  the  sister  colony. 
A  document,  of  which  Ivar  Bardsen  was  the  author,  has 
been  preserved.  It  consists  of  sailing  directions  for  reach- 
ing the  colony  from  Iceland,  and  a  chorography  of  the 
colony  itself.  It  is  the  oldest  work  on  arctic  geography, 
and  is  still  valuable  in  the  study  of  all  questions  relating 
to  the  early  settlements  in  Greenland.  From  1400  to 
1448  there  was  some  communication,  at  long  intervals, 
^ith  the  Greenland  settlers,  but  during  the  latter  half  of 
that  century  it  entirely  ceased.  Here  then  the  ancient 
portion  of  polar  history  comes  to  an  end.  The  next  period, 
comprised  in  the  16th  and  17th  centuries,  was  that  in 
which  expeditions  were  despatched  across  the  Arctic  Circle 
to  discover  a  shorter  route  to  India. 

Sebastian  Cabot,  whose  own  northern  voyages  have 
been  spoken  of  in  the  article  Cabot,  was  the  chief  pro- 
moter of  the  expedition,  which  sailed  under  Sir  Hugh 
Willoughby  and  Kichard  Chancellor  on  the  20th  May  1553, 
"  for  the  search  and  discovery  of  the  northern  parts  of  the 
world,  to  open  a  way  and  passage  to  our  men,  for  travel  to 
new  and  unknown  kingdoms."  WiUoughby,'  after  dis- 
covering Nova  Zembla  (Novaya  Zemlya)  by  sighting  the 
coast  of  Goose  Land,  resolved  to  winter  in  a  harbour  of 
Lapland,  where  he  and  all  his  men  perished  of  starvation 
and  cold.  Chancellor  reached  the  Bay  of  St  Nicholas, 
and  landed  near  Archangel,  which  was  then  only  a  castle. 
He  undertook  a  journey  to  Moscow,  made  arrangements 
for  commercial  intercourse  with  Russia,  and  returned 
safely.  His  success  proved  the  practical  utility  of  polar 
voyages.  It  led  to  a  charter  being  granted  to  the  Associa- 
tion of  Merchant  Adventurers,  of  which  Cabot  was  named 
governor  for  life,  and  gave  fresh  impulse  to  arctic  discovery. 

In    the  spring  of  1556  Stephen  Burrough,    who   had 


served  with  Chancellor,  sailed  in  a  small  pinnace  called 
the  "  Searchthrift,"  and  kept  a  careful  journal  of  his 
voyage.  He  went  to  Archangel,  and  discovered  the  strait 
leading  into  the  Kara  Sea,  between  Nova  Zembla  and  the 
island  of  Waigat.  In  May  1580  the  company  fitted  out 
two  vessels  under  Arthur  Pet  and  Charles  Jackman,  with  Pet 
orders  to  pass  through  the  strait  discovered  by  Burrough, 
and  thence  to  sail  eastward  beyond  the  mouth  of  the  river 
Obi.  Pet  discovered  the  strait  into  the  Kara  Sea,  between 
Waigat  and  the  mainland,  and  made  a  persevering  effort 
to  push  eastward,  returning  to  England  in  safety.  Jack- 
man,  after  wintering  in  ar  Norwegian  port,  sailed  home 
ward  but  was  never  heard  of  again. 

In  1558  a  narrative  and  map  were  published  at  Venice, 
which  profoundly  affected  the  system  of  polar  cartography 
for  many  years  afterwards.  The  publication  was  the 
handiwork  of  a  Venetian  nobleman  named  Niccol6  Zeno. 
Towards  the  close  of  the  14th  century  his  ancestor,  also 
named  Niccol6,  made  a  voyage  into  the  northern  seas,  and 
entered  the  service  of  a  chief  named  Zichnmi  as  pilot.  He 
'was  eventually  joined  by  his  brother  Antonio,  and  four 
years  afterwards  died  in  the  country  he  callgd  Frislanda. 
Antonio  remained  ten  years  longer  in  the  service  of 
Zichnmi,  and  then  returned  to  Venice.  The  younger 
Niccol6  found  the  mutilated  letters  of  these  brothers  in 
the  Zeni  palace,  with  a  map ;  and  out  of  these  materials 
he  prepared  the  narrative  and  map  which  he  published, 
adding  what  he  considered  improvements  to  the  map.  It 
was  accepted  at  the  time  as  a  work  of  high  authority,  and 
the  names  on  it  continued  to  appear  on  subsequent  maps 
for  at  least  a  century,  puzzling  both  geographers  at  home 
and  explorers  in  the  field.  After  a  very  exhaustive  study 
of  the  subject,  Mr  Major  has  identified  the  names  on  the 
Zeni  map,  as  follows  : — Engronelant,  Greenland ;  Islanda, 
Iceland;  Estland,  Shetlands  ;  Frisland,  Faroe  Isles;'  Mark- 
land,  Nova  Scotia ;  Estotiland,  Newfoundland :  Drogeo, 
coast  of  North  America ;  Icaria,  coast  of  Kerry  Li  Ireland. 

We  now  come  to  the  voyages  of  Frobisher,  undertaken 
to  obtain  the  means  for  equipping  an  expedition  for  the 
discovery  of  a  shorter  route  to  India  by  the  north-west. 
Added  by  Michael  Lok,  an  influential  merchant  and  dUigent 
student  of  geography,  Frobisher  sailed,  in  the  spring  of 
1576,  with  two  small  vessels  of  20  to  25  tons,  called  the 
"Gabriel  "and  "Michael."  But  the  "Michael"  parted 
company  in  the  Atlantic,  the  voyage  being  continued  in 
the  "  Gabriel "  alone.  On  20th  July  Frobisher  sighted 
high  land,  which  he  called  Queen  Elizabeth's  Foreland  ; 
and  the  next  day  he  entered  the  strait  to  which  he  gave 
his  own  name,  calling  the  land  "  Meta  Incognita."  On 
his  return  in  the  autumn,  with  various  specimens  of  plants 
and  stones,  the  "  goldfinders  "  in  London  took  it  into  their 
heads  that  a  glittering  piece  of  mica-schist  contained  gold 
ore.  This  caused  great  excitement,  and  much  larger  ex- 
peditions were  fitted  out,  in  the  two  following  years,  to 
collect  these  precious  ores.  As  many  as  fifteen  vessels 
formed  the  third  expedition  of  1578,  and  one  of  them,  a 
busse  (small  ship)  of  Bridgwater,  called  the  "Emma," 
reported  that  on  her  voyage  home  she  had  sighted  land 
in  the  Atlantic  and  sailed  along  it  for  three  days.  It 
was  never  seen  again,  and  may  have  been  only  a  large 
icefield;  but  it  soon  found  its  place  on  maps  and  charts 
under  the  name  of  Busse  Island,  and  afterwards  as  "sunken 
land  of  Busse."  For  a  long-  time  Frobisher  Strait  was 
supposed  to  pass  through  Greenland,  and,  the  map  of  th< 
Zeni  adding  to  the  confusion,  the  land  to  the  south  wag 
called  Frislanda.  It  is  now  clear  that  Frobisher  never 
saw  Greenland,  and  that  his  strait  and  "  Meta  Incognita  " 
are  on  the  American  side  of  Davis  Strait.    What  Frobisher 

'  Admiraf  Irminger  of  Copenh^en  holds  the  opinion  tHat  Frisland 
is  not  the  Faroe  Isles,  bat  Iceland. 


J 


POLAR      REGIONS 


317 


really  did  a  as  to  establish  the  fact  that  there  were  two  or 
more ,  wide  openings  leading  to  the  westward,  between 
latitudes  60°  and  63°,  on  the  American  coast. 

John  Davis,  who  made  the  nest  attempt  to  discover  a 
north-west  passage,  was  one  .of  the  most  scientific  seamen 
of  that  age.  He  made  three  voyages  in  three  successive 
years,  aided  and  fitted  out  by  William  Sanderson  and 
othei*  merchants.  Sailing  from  Dartmouth  on  the  7th 
June  1585,  he  was  the  first  to  visit  the  west  coast  of 
Greenland  subsequent  to  the  abandonment  of  the  Norse 
eoionies.  He  called  it  "The  Land  of  Desolation."  He 
discovered  Gilbert's  Sound  in  64°  10'  (where  now  stands 
the  Danish  Settlement  of  Godthaab)  and  then,  crossing  the 
strait  which  bears  his  name,  he  traced  a  portion  of  its 
western  shore.  In  the  second  voyage  Davis  noted  what 
he  calls  "  a  furiouS'  overfall,"  which  was  the  tide  flowing 
into  Hudson  Strait;  and  in  his  third  voyage,  in  1587,  he 
advanced  far  up  his  own  strait,  and  reached  a  lofty  granite 
island  in  72°  41'  N.  which  he  named  Sanderson's  Hope. 
He  considered  that  there  was  good  hope  of  advancing 
farther,  and  reported  "  no  ice  towards  the  north,  but  a 
great  sea,  free,  large,  very  salt  and  blue,  and  of  an 
unsearchable  depth."  The  results  of  his  discoveries  are 
shown  on  the  Molyneux  globe  which  is  now  in  the  library 
of  the  Middle  Temple ;  but  he  found  it  impossible  to 
reconcile  his  Work  with  that  of  Frobisher,  and  with  the 
Zeni  map.  In  1596  Davis  published  a  tract  entitled  The 
World's  UydrogfwpMcal  Description,  in  which  he  ably 
states  the  arguments  in  favour  of  the  discovery  of  a  north- 
west passage. 

The  Dutch  also  saw  the  importance  of  a  northern  route 
to  China  and  India,  especially  as  the  routes  by  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope  and  Magellan's  Strait  were  jealously  guarded 
by  Spaniards  and  Portuguese.  Their  plan  was  to  proceed 
by  the  north-east  along  the  coast  of  Asia.  As  early  as 
1578  Dutch  merchants  had  opened  a  trade  with  Kola  and 
Archangel,  but  it  was  Peter  Planeius,  the  learned  cosmo- 
grapher  of  Amsterdam,  who  conceived  the  idea  of  dis- 
covering a  north-east  passage.  In  1594  the  Amsterdam 
merchants  fitted  out  a  vessel  of  100  tons,  under  the  com- 
mand of  Willem  Barents.  The  coast  of  Nova  Zembia  was 
sighted  on  the  4  th  July,  and  from  that  date  until  the  3rd 
of  August  Barents  continued  perseveringly  to  seek  a  way 
through  the  ice-floes,  and  discovered  the  whole  western 
coast  as  far  as  Cape  Nassau  and  the  Orange  Islands  at  the 
north-west  extremity.  The  second  voyage  in  which  Barents 
Was  engaged  merely  made  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  enter 
the  Kara  Sea.  The  third  was  more  important.  Two 
vessels  sailed  from  Amsterdam  on  May  13,  1596,  under 
the  command  of  Jacob  van  Heemskerck  and  Corneliszoon 
Rijp.  Barents  accompanied  Heemskerck  as  pilot,  and 
Gerrit  do  Veer,  the  historian  of  the' voyage,  was  on  board 
as  mate.  The  masses  of  ice  in  the  straits  leading  to  the 
Sea  of  Kara,  and  the  impenetrable  nature  of  the  pack  near 
Nova  Zembia,  had  suggested  the  advisability  of  avoiding 
the  land  and,  by  keeping  a  northerly  course,  of  seeking  a 
passage  in  the  open  sea.  They  sailed  northvi'ards  and  on 
9th  Juno  di.scovered  Bear  Island.  Continuing  on  the  same 
course  they  sighted  the  north-western  extreme  of  Spitz- 
bergen,  soon  afterwards  being  stopped  by  the  polar  pack 
ice.  This  important  discovery  was  named  "Nieue  Land," 
and  was  believed  to  bo  a  part  of  Greenland.  Arriving  at 
Bear  Island  again  on  1st  July,  Rijp  parted  company,  while 
Heemskerck  and  Barents  proceeded  eastward,  intending  to 
pass  round  the  northern  extreme  of  Nova  Zembia.  On 
the  2Gth  August  they  reached  Ice  Haven,  after  rounding 
the  northern  extremity  of  the  land.  Hero  thoy  wintered 
in  a  house  built  out  of  driftwood  and  planks  from  the 
wrecked  vessel.  In  the  spring  thoy  made  their  way  in 
.boats  to  the  Lapland  coast;  but  Barents  died  during  the 


voyage.  This  was  the  first  time  that  an  arctic  winter  was 
successfully  faced.  The  voyages  of  Earents  stand  in  the 
first  rank  among  the  polar  enterprises  of  the  16  th  century. 
They  led  directly  to  the  flourLshing  whale  and  seal  fisheries 
which  long  enriched  the  Netherlands. 

The  English  enterprises  were  continued  by  the  Muscovy 
Company,  and  by  associations  of  patriotic  merchants  of 
London ;  and  even  the  East « India  Company  sent  an 
expedition  under  Captain  Way  mouth  in  1602  to  seek  for  a 
passage  by  the  opening  seen  by  Davis,  but  it  had  no  success. 

The  best  servant  of  the  Muscovy  Company  in  the  work 
of  polar  discovery  was  Henry  Hudson.  His  first  voyage 
was  undertaken  in  1607,  when  he  discovered  the  most 
northern  known  point  of  the  east  coast  of  Greenland  in 
73°  N.  named  "  Hold  with  Hope,"  and  examined  the  edge 
of  the  ice -between  Greenland  and  Spitzbergen,  reaching 
a  latitude  of  80°  23'  N.  On  his  way  home  he  discovered 
the  island  now  called  Jan  Mayen,  which  he  named 
"  Hudson's  Tutches."  In  his  second  expedition,  during  the 
season  of  1608,  Hudson  examined  the  edge  of  the  ice  be- 
tween Spitzbergen  and  Nova  Zembia.  In  his  third  voyage 
he  was  employed  by  the  Dutch  East  India  Company,  and 
he  explored  the  co'asts  of  North  America,  discovering  tho 
Hudson  river.  In  1610  he  discovered  Hudson's  Strait, 
and  the  great  bay  which  bears  and  immortalizes  his  namai 
(see  Hudson,  vol.  xii.  p.  332). 

The  voyages  of  Hudson  led  immediately  to  the  Spitz- 
bergen whale  fishery.  From  1609  to  1612  Jonas  Poole 
made  four  voyages  for  the  prosecution  of  this  lucrative 
business,  and  he  was  followed  by  Fotherby,  Baffin,  Joseph, 
and  Edge.  These  bold  seamen,  while  in  the  pursuit  of 
whales,  added- considerably  to  the  knowledge  of  the  archi- 
pelago of  islands  known  under  the  name  of  Spitzbergen, 
and  in  1617  Captain  Edge  discovered  a  large  island  to  tha 
eastward,  which  he  named  Wyche's  Land. 

At  about  the  same  period  the  kings  of  Denmark  began 
to  send  expeditions  for  the  rediscovery  of  the  lost  Green- 
land colony.  In  1605  Christian  IV.  sent  out  three  ships, 
under  the  Englishmen  Cunningham  and  Hall,  and  a  Dane 
named  Lindenov,  which  reached  the  western  coast .  of 
Greenland  and  had^  much  intercourse  with  the  Eskimo. 
Other  expeditions  followed  in  1606-7. 

Meanwhile  the  merchant  adventurers  of  London  con- 
tinued to  push  forward  the  western  discovery.  Sir  Thomas 
Button,  in  command  of  two  ships,  the  "  Resolution  "  and 
"Discovery,"  sailed  from  England  in  May  1612.  He 
entered  Hudson's  Bay,  crossed  to  its  western  shore,  and 
wintered  at  the  mouth  of  a  river  in  57°  10'  N.  which  was 
named  Nelson's  river  after  tho  master  of  the  ship,  who 
died  and  was  buried  there.  Next  year  Button  explored 
tho  shore  of  Southampton  Island  as  far  as-  65°  N.,  and 
returned  home  in  the  autumn  of  1613.  An  expedition 
under  Captain  Gibbons,  despatched  in  1614,  was  a  miser- 
able failure;  but  in  1615  Robert  Bylot  as  master  and 
William  Baffin  as  pilot  and  navigator  in  the  "Discovery" 
examined  the  coasts  of  Hudson's  Strait,  and  Baflin,  who 
was  .the  equal  of  Davis  as  a  scientific  seaman,  made  many 
valuable  observations.  In  1616  Bylot  and  Baffin  again 
set  out  in  the  "  Discovery."  Sailing  up  Davis  Strait  they 
passed  that  navigator's  farthest  point  at .  Sanderson's 
Hope,  and  sailed  round  the  great  channel  with  smaller 
channels  leading  from  it  which  has  been  known  over  sincd 
as  Baftin's  Bay.  Baflin  named  tho  most  northern  opening 
Smith  Sound,  after  the  first  governor  of  tho  East  India 
Company,  and  tho  nmnificcnt  promoter  of  tho  voyage, 
Sir  'rhonias  Smith.  Wolstcnholme  Sound,  Cape  Dudley 
Diggcs,  Hakluyt  Island,  Lancaster  Sound,  Jones  Sound, 
and  tho  Gary  Islands  were  named  after  other  proraotore 
and  friends  of  tho  voyage.  The  fame  of  Baflin  mainly 
rests  upon  the  discovery  of  the  great  channel  extcudiiig 


318 


EOLAR      REGIONS 


north  from  Davis  Strait ;  but  it  was  unjustly  dimmed  for 
many  years,  owing  'to  the  omission  of  Purchas  to  publish 
the  skilful  navigator's  tabulated  journal  and  map  in  his 
great  collection  of  voyages.  It  may  be  mentioned,  as  an 
illustration  of  the  value  of  these  early  voyages  to  modern 
science,  that  Professor  Hansteen  of  Christiania  made  use 
of  Baffin's  magnetic  observations  in  the  compilation  of  his 
series  of  magnetic  maps.  ■ 

In  1631  two  expeditions  were"" despatched,  one  by  the 
merchants  of  London,  the  others  by  those  of  Bristol.  In 
the  London  ship  "  Charles  "  Luke  Fox  explored  the  western 
side  of  Hudson's  Bay  as  far  as  the  place  called  "  Sir  Thomas 
Jtoe's  Welcome."  In  August  he  encountered  Captain  James 
and  the  Bristol  ship  "Maria"  in  the  middle  of  Hudson's 
Bay,  and  went  north  until  he  reached  "  North-west  Fox 
his  furthest,"  in  66°  47'  N.  He  then  returned  home  and 
wrote  the  most  entertaining  of  all  the  polar  narratives. 
Captain  James  was  obliged  to  winter  off  Charlton  Island, 
in  the  southern  extreme  of  Baffin's  Bay,  and  did  not  return 
until  October  1632.  Another  English  voyager.  Captain 
Wood,  attempted,  without  success,  to  discover  a  north-east 
passage  in  1676. 

The  16th  and  17th  centuries  were  periods  of  discovery 
and  daring  enterprise,  and  the  results  gained  by  the  gallant 
seamen  of  those  times  are  marvellous  when  we  consider 
their  insignificant  resources  and  the  small  size  of  their 
vessels.  Hudson's  Strait  and  Bay,  Davis  Strait,  and 
Baffin's  Bay,  the  icy  seas  from  Greenland  to  Spitzbergen 
and  from  Spitzbergen  to  Nova  Zembia,  had  all  been  dis- 
covered. The  following  century  was  rather  a  period  of 
reaping  the  results  of  former  efforts  than  of  discovery.  It 
saw  the  settlement  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Territory  and  of 
Greenland,  and  the  development  of  the  whale  and  seal 
fisheries. 

The  Hudson's  Bay  Company  was  incorporated  iii  1670, 
and  Prince  Rupert  sent  out  Zachariah  Gillan,  ^vho  wintered 
at  Kupert's  river.  At  first  very  slow  progress  was  made. 
A  voyage  undertaken  by  Mr  Knight,  who  had  been 
appointed  governor  of  the  factory  at  Nelson  river,  was 
unfortunate,  as  his  two  ships  were  lost  and  the  crews 
4eroggs.  perished.  This  was  in  1719.  In  1722  John  Scroggs  was 
sent  fronl  Churchill  river  in  search  of  the  missing  ships, 
but  merely  entered  Sir  Thomas  Eoe's  Welcome  and 
returned.  His  reports  were  believed  to  offer  decisive 
proofs  of  the  e.xistence  of  a  passage  into  the  Pacific  ;  and 
a  naval  expedition  was  despatched  under  the  command  of 
Middle-  Captain  Christopher  Middleton,  consisting  of  the  "  Dis- 
•*""•  covery "  pink  and  the  "  Furnace "  bomb.  Wintering  in 
Churchill  river,  Middleton  started  in  July  1742  and  dis- 
covered Wager  river  and  Repulse  Bay.  In  1746  Captain 
Moor.  W.  iloor  made  another  voyage  in  the  same  direction,  and 
Coats,  explored  the  Wager  Inlet.  Captain  Coats,  who  was  in  the 
service  of  the  company  1727-51,  wrote  a  useful  account 
of  the  geography  of  Hudson's  Bay.  Later  in  the  century 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company's  servants  made  some  important 
land  journeys  to  discover  the  shores  of  the  American  polar 
ocean.  From  1769  to  1772  Samuel  Hearne  descended 
the  Coppermine  river  to  the  polar  sea;  and  in  1789 
Alexander  Mackenzie  discovered  the  mouth  of  the  Mac- 
kenzie river. 

The  establishment  of  the  modern  Danish  settlements  in 
Greenland  has  already  been  spoken  of  under  the  heading 
GhBENL'O.'D  (q.v.). 

The  countrymen  of  Barents  vied  with  the  countrymen 
of  Hudson  in  the  perilous  calling  which  annually  brought 
fleets  "of  ships  to  the  Spitzbergen  seas  during  the  18th 
eentury.  The  Dutch  had  their  large  summer  station  for 
boiling  dow-n  'blubber  at  Smeerenberg,  near  the  northern 
spireme  '  of  « the  *  west  coast  of  Spitzbergen.'  Captain 
VTamingh.'in  1664,"advanced^as  far  round  the  northern 


end  of  Nova  Zembia  as  the  winter  quarters  of  Barents.^  In 
1700  Captain  Cornells  Roule  is  said  by  Witsen  to  have 
sailed  north  in  the  longitude  of  Nova  Zembia,  and  to  have 
seen  an  extent  of  40  miles  of  broken  land.  But  Theunis 
Ys,  one  of  the  most  e.\perienced  Dutch  navigators,  was  of 
opinion  that  no  vessel  had  ever  been  north  of  the  82d 
parallel.  In  1671  Frederick  Martens  visited  the  Spitz- 
bergen group,  and  wrote  the  best  account  of  its  physical 
features  and  natural  history  that  existed  previous  to  the 
time  of  Scoresby.  In  1707  Captains  Gilies  and  Outsgcr 
Rep  went  far  to  the  eastward  along  the  northern  shores  of 
Greenland  and  saw  very  high  land  in  80°  N  ,  which  has 
since  been  known  as  Gilies  Land.  The  Dutch  geographi- 
cal knowledge  of  Spitzbergen  was  embodied  in  the  famous 
chart  of  the  Van  Keulens  (father  and  son),  1700-1728. 
The  Dutch  whale  fishery  continued  to  flourish  until  the 
French  Revolution,  and  formed  a  splendid  nursery  for 
trainiilg  the  seamen  of  the  Netherlands.     From  1700  to 

1775  the  fleet  numbered  100  ships  and  upwards.  In 
1719  the  Dutch  opened  a  whale  fishery  in  Davis  Strait, 
and  continued  to  frequent  the  west  coast  of  Greenland  for 
upwards  of  sixty  years  fropi  that  time.  In  the  course  of 
6372  Dutch  whaling  voyages  to  Davis  Strait  between  1719 
and  1775  only  38  ships  were  wTecked. 

The  most  flourishing  period  of  the  English  "fisliery  in 
the  Spitzbergen  seas  was  from  1752  to  1820.  Bounties 
of  40s.  per  ton  were  granted  by  Act  of  Parliament ;  and 
in  1778  as  many  as  255  sail  of  whalers  were  employed. 
In  order  to  encourage  discovery  £5000    were  offered  in 

1776  to  the  first  ship  that  should  sail  beyond  the  89th 
parallel  (16  deo.  III.  c.  6).  Among  the  numerou.s  daring 
and  able  whaling  captains,  Captain  Scoresby  takes  the 
first  rank,  alike  as'  a  successful  fisher  and  a  scientific 
observer.  His  admirahle  Account  of  the  Arctic  Begions  is 
stiU  a  text  book  for  all  students  of  the  subject.  In  1806 
h"e  succeeded  in  advancing  his  ship  "  Resolution "  as  far 
north  as  81°  12'  42".  In  1822  he  forced  his  way  through 
the  ice  which  encumbers  the  approach  to  land  on  the  east 
coast  of  Greenland,  and  surveyed  that  coast  from  75°  down 
to  69°  N.,  a  distance  of  400  miles.  Scoresby  combined 
the  closest  attention  to  his  business  with  much  valuable 
scientific  work  and  no  insignificant  amount  of  exploration. 

The  Russians,  after  the  acquisition  of  Siberia,  succeeded 
in  gradually  exploring  the  whole  of  the  northern  shores  of 
that  vast  region.  As  long  ago  as  1648  a  Cossack  named 
Simon  Deshneff  equipped  a  boat  expedition  in  the  river 
Kolyma,  passed  through  the  strait  afterwards  named  after 
Bering,  and  reached  the  Gulf  of  Anadyr.  In  1738  a 
voyage  was  made  by  two  Russian  officers  from  Archangel 
to  the  mouths  of  the  Obi  and  the  Yenisei.  Efforts  were 
then  made  to  effect  a  passage  from  the  Yenisei  .to 'the 
Lena.  In  1735  Lieutenant  T.  Tchelyuskin  got  as  far  as 
77°  25'  N.  near  the  cape  which  bears  his  name ;  and  in 
1743  he  reached  that  most  northern  point  of  Siberia  in 
sledges,  in  77°  41'  N.  Captain  Vitus  Bering,  a  Dane, 
was  appointed  by  Peter  the  Great  to  command  an  expedi- 
tion in  1725.  'Two  vessels  were  built  at  Okhotsk,  and  in 
July  1728  Bering  ascertained  the  existence  of  a  strait 
between  Asia  and  America.  In  1740  Bering  was  again 
employed.  He  sailed  from  Okhotsk  in  a  vessel  called  tha 
"St  Paul,"  with  G.  AV.  Steller  on  board  as  naturalisW 
Their  object  was  to  discover  the  American  side  of  th<^ 
strait,  and  they  sighted  that  magnificent  peak  named  by^ 
Bering  Mount  St  Elias.  The  Aleutian  Islands  were  also 
explored,  but  the  ship  was  wrecked  on^an  island, named 
after  the  ill-fated  discoverer,  and  scurvy  broke  out  amoiigh* 
his  crew.     Bering  himself  died  there  on  December  8,  •!  74  \S 

Thirty  years  after  the  death'' of  i  Bering' a^' Russian' 
merchant  named  Liakhoff  discovered  the  New  Siberia  <>r 
Liakhoff  Islands,  and  in  1771  he  obtained  the  cxcluMro 


POLAR      REGIONS 


319 


right  from  the  empress  Catherine  to  dig  there  for  fossil 
ivory.  These  islands  were  more  fully  explored  by  an 
officer  named  Hedeustrom  in  1809,  and  seekers  for  fossil 
ivory  annually  resorted  to  them.  A  Russian  expedi- 
tion under  Captain  Tchitschakoff,  sent  to  Spitzbergen  in 
1764,  was  only  able  to  attain  a  latitude  of  80°  30'  N. 

Since  the  year  1773  the  objects  of  polar  exploration,  at 
least  so  far  as  England  is  concerned,  have  been  mainly  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge  in  various  branches  of  science. 
It  was  on  these  groands  that  the  Honourable  Daines  Bar- 
rington  and  the  Royal  Society  induced  the  Government  to' 
undertake  arctic  exploration  once  more.  The  result  was 
that  two  vessels,  the  "  Racehorse  "  and  "  Carcass  "  bombs, 
were  commissioned,  under  the  command  of  Captain  Phipps. 
The  expedition  sailed  from  the  Nore  on  the  2d  June  1773, 
and  was  stopped  by  the  ice  to  the  north  of  Hakluyt  Head- 
land, the  north-western  point  of  Spitzbergen.  They 
reached  the  Seven  Islands  and  discovered  Walden  Island ; 
but  beyond  this  point  progress  was  impossible.  When  they 
attained  their  highest  latitude  in  80°  48'  N.,  north  of  the 
central  part  of  the  Spitzbergen  group,  the  ice  at  the  edge 
of  the  pack  was  24  feet  thick.  Captain  Phipps  returned 
to  England  in  September  1773.  Five  years  afterwards 
Captain  Cook  received  instructions  to  proceed  northward 
from  Kamchatka  and  search  for  a  north-east  or  north-west 
passage  from  the  Pacific  to  the  Atlantic.  In  accordance 
with  these  orders  Captain  Cook,  during  his  third  voyage, 
reached  Cape  Prince  of  Wales,  the  western  extremity  of 
America,  on  August  9,  1 778.  His  ships,  the  "  Resolution  " 
and  "  Discovery,"  arrived  at  the  edge  of  the  ice,  after 
passing  Behring  Strait,  in  70°  41'  N.  On  August  17th  the 
farthest  point,  seen  on  the  American  side  was  named  Icy 
Cape.  On  the  Asiatic  side  Cook's  survey  extended  to  Cape 
North.  In  the  following  year  Captain  Clerke,  who  had 
succeeded  to  the  command,  made  another  attempt,  but  his 
ship  was  beset  in  the  ice,  and  so  much  damaged  that 
further  attempts  were  abandoned. 

The  wars  following  the  French  Revolution  put  an  end 
to  voyages  of  discovery  till,  after  the  peace  of  1815,  north 
polar  research  found  a  powerful  and  indefatigable  advocate 
in  Sir  John  B^uirow  (q.v.).  Through  his  influence  a 
measure  for  promoting  polar  discovery  became  law  in  1818 
(58  Geo.  III.  c.  20),  by  which  a  reward  of  £20,000  was 
offered  for  making  the  north-west  passage,  and  of  £5000 
for  reaching  89°  N.,  while  the  commissioners  of  longitude 
were  empowered  to  award  proportionate  sums  to  those  who 
might  achieve  certain  portions  of  such  discoveries.  In 
1817  the  icy  seas  were  reported  by  Captain  Scoresby  and 
others  to  be  remarkably  open,  and  this  circumstance  enabled 
Barrow  to  obtain  sanction  for  the  despatch  of  two  expe- 
dition,s,  each  consisting  of  two  whalers — one  to  attempt 
discoveries  by  way  of  Spitzbergen  and  the  other  by  Baffin's 
Bay.  The  vessels  for  the  Spitzbergen  route,  the  "  Doro- 
thea "and  "Trent,"  were  commanded  by  Captain  David 
Buchan  and  Lieutenant  John  Franklin,  and  sailed  in  April 
1818.  Driven  into  the  pack  by  a  heavy  swell  from  the 
eouth,  both  vessels  were  severely  nipped,  and  had  to  return 
to  England.  The  other  expedition,  consisting  of  the  "  Isa- 
bella" and  "Alexander,"  commanded  by  Captain  John 
Boss  and  Lieutenant  Edward  Parry,  followed  in  the  wako 
of  Baffin's  voyage  of  1616.  Ross  sailed  from  England  in 
April  1818.  The  chief  merit  of  his  voyage  was  that  it 
vindicated  Baffin's  accuracy  as  a  di.scoverer.  Its  practical 
result  was  that  the  way  was  shown  to  a  very  lucrative 
fishery  in  the  "North  Water"  of  Baffin's  Bay,  which 
continued  to  be  frequented  by  a  fleet  of  whalers  every 
year.  Captain  Ross  thought  that  the  inlets  reported  by 
Baffin  were  merely  bays,  while  the  opinion  of  his  second  in 
command  was  that  a  wide  opening  to  the  wcstwai'd  existed 
through  Lancaster  Sound  of  Baffin. 


Parry  was  consequently  selected  to  command  a  new 
expedition  in  the  following  year.  His  two  vessels,  the 
"  Hecla  "  and  "  Griper,"  passed  through  Lancaster  Sonnd, 
the  continuation  of  which  he  named  Barrow  Strait,  and 
advanced  westward,  with  an  archipelago  oo  his  starboard 
hand,  since  known  as  the  Parry  Islands.  He  observed  a 
wide  opening  to  the  north,  which  he  named  Wellington 
Channel,  and  sailed  onwards  for  300  miles  to  Melville 
Island.  He  was  stopped  by  that  impenetrable  polar  pack 
of  vast  thickness  which  appears  to  surround  the  archipelago 
to  the  north  of  the  American  continent,  and  was  obliged  to 
winter  in  a  harbour  on  the  south  coast  of  JlelviUe  Island. 
Parry's  sanitary  arrangements  during  the  winter  were  very 
judicious,  and  the  scientific  results  of  his  expedition  were 
most  valuable.  The  vessels  returned  in  October  1820; 
and  a  fresh  expedition  in  the  "Fury"  and  "Hecla,"  again 
under  the  command  of  Captain  Parry,  sailed  from  the  Nore 
on  May  8,  1821,  and  passed  their  first  winter  on  the  coast 
of  the  newly  discovered  Melville  Peninsula  in  66°  11'  N. 
Still  persevering,  Parry  passed  his  second  winter  among 
the  Eskimo  at  Igloolik  in  69"  20'  N.,  and  discovered  a 
channel  leading  westward  from  the  head  of  Hudson's  Bay, 
which  he  named  Fury  and  Hecla  Strait.  The  expedition 
returned  in  the  autumn  of  1823.  Meantime  Parry's  friend  Frank- 
Franklin  had  been  employed  in  attempts  to  reach  by  land  I'"'*  ^"* 
the  northern  shores  of  America,  hitherto  only  touched  at''""™''^' 
two  points  by  Hearne  and  Mackenzie.  Franklin  went  out 
in  1819,  accompanied  by  Dr  Richardson,  George  Back,  and 
Hood.  They  landed  at  York  factory,  and  proceeded  to 
the  Great  Slave  Lake.  In  August  of  the  following  year 
they  started  for  the  Coppermine  river,  and,  embarking  on 
it,  reached  its  mouth  on  July  18,  1821.  From  that  point 
550  miles  of  coast^line  wore  explored,  the  extreme  point 
being  called  Cape  Turnagain.  Most  frightful  sufferings, 
from  starvation  and  cold,  had  to  be  endured  during  the 
return  journey  ;  but  eventually  Franklin,  Richardson,  and 
Back  arrived  safely  at  Fort  Chippewyan.  It  was  now 
thought  desirable  that  an  attempt  should  be  made  to  con- 
nect the  Cape  Turnagain  of  Franklin  with  the  discoveries 
made  by  Parry  during  his  second  voyage ;  but  the  first 
effort,  under  Captain  Lyon  in  the  "  Griper,"  was  unsuc- 
cessful 

In    1824    three   combined    attempts    were   organized.  Parry 'i 
While  Parry  again  entered  by  Lancaster  Sound  and  pushed  tliinl 
down  a  great  opening  he  had  seen  to  the  south  named  ^'°y<V^ 
Prince    Regent's   Inlet,  Captain   Boechey   was   to  enter 
Behring's  Strait,  and  Franklin  was  to  make  a  second  journey 
to  the  shores  of  Arctic  America.     Parry  was  unfortunate, 
but  Beechey  entered  Behring  Strait  in  the  "  Blossom  "  in  Bcechi-y, 
August  1826,  and  extended  our  knowledge  as  far  as  Point 
Barrow  in  71°  23'  30"  H.  lat.     Franklin,  in  1825-20,  Frank- 
descended  the   Mackenzie   river  to   its  mouth,   and   ex-  ''■>'» 
nlored  the  coast  for  374  miles  to  the  westward  :   while  f^™'"' 
Dr  Richardson  discovered  the  shore  between  the  mouths 
of  the  Mackenzie  and  Coppermine,  and  sighted  land  to  the 
northward,  named  by  him  Wollaston  Land,  the  dividing 
channel   being  called  Union  and  Dolphin  Strait.     They 
returned  in  the  autumn  of  1826. 

Work  was  also  being  done  in  the  Spitzbergen  and 
Barents  Seas.  From  1821  to  1824  the  R\issian  Captain 
Lutko  was  survc3'ing  the  west  coast  of  Nova  Zenibia  a. 
far  as  Capo  Nas-sau,  and  examining  the  ice  of  the  adjacent 
sea.  In  May  1823  the  "Griper"  sailed,  under  tbo  com 
mand  of  Captain  Clavering,  to  convey  Captain  Sabine  to 
the  polar  regions  in  order  to  make  pendulum  obsen'ations.' 
Clavering  pushed  through  the  ice  in  75°  30'  N.,  and 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  cast  coast  of  Greenland,  whore 
observations  were  taken  on  Pendulum  Island.  Ho  laid 
down  the  land  from  7£°  to  72*  N. 

Parry's  attempt  in  1827  to  reach  the  polo   from  tli« 


320 


POLAR      REGIONS 


horthern  coast  oi  Spitzbergen,  by  means  of  sledge-boats, 
iias  been  described  under  the  beading  Parey.  The  highest 
latitude  reached  was  82°  45'  N. ;  and  the  attempt  showed 
that  it  is  useless  to  leave  the  land  and  trust  to  the  drifting 
pack  in  polar  exploration. 

In  1829  the  Danes  undertook  an  interesting  piece  of 
exploration  on  the  east  coast  of  Greenland.  Captain 
Graah  of  the  Danish  navy  rounded  Cape  Farewell  in  boats, 
■with  four  Europeans  and  twelve  Eskimo. '  He  advanced 
as  far  as  65°  18'  N.  on  the  east  coast,  where  he  was 
stopped  by  an  insurmountable  barrier  of  ice.  He  wintered 
at  Nugarlik  in  63°  22'  N.,  and  returned  to  the  settlements 
on  the  west  side  of  Greenland  in  1830. 

In  the  year  1829  Captain  John  Ross,  with  his  nephew 
James,  having  been  furnished  with  sufBcient  funds  by  a 
wealthy  distiller  named  Felix  Booth,  undertook  a  private 
expedition  of  discovery  in  a  small  vessel  called  the 
"Victory."  Ross  proceeded  down  Prince  Eegent's  Inlet 
to  the  Gulf  of  Boothia,  and  wintered  on  the  eastern  side  of 
a  land  named  by  him  Boothia  Felix.  In  the  course  of 
exploring  excursions  during  the  summer  months  James 
Ross  crossed  the  land  and  discovered  the  position  of  the 
north  magnetic  pole  on  the  western  side  of  it,  on  June  1, 
1831.  He  also  discovered  a  land  to  the  westward  of 
Boothia  which  he  named  King  William  Land,  and  the 
northern  shore  of  which  he  examined.  The  most  northern 
point,  opposite  the  magnetic  pole,  was  called  Cape  Felix, 
and  thence  the  coast  trended  south-west  to  Victory  Point. 
James  Boss  was  at  Cape  Felix  on  May  29,  1830.  The 
Rosses  never  could  get  their  little  vessel  out  of  its  winter 
quarters.  They  passed  three  winters  there,  and  then  fell 
back  on  the  stores  at  Fury  Beach,  where  they  passed  their 
fourth  winter  of  1832-33.  Eventually  they  were  picked 
up  by  a  whaler  in  Barrow  Strait,  and  brought  home. 
Great  anxiety  was  naturally  felt  at  their  prolonged  absence, 
Jack,  and  in  1833  Sir  George  Back,  with  Dr  Richard  King  as  a 
companion,  set  out  by  land  in  search  of  the  missing 
explorers.  Wintering  at  the  Great  Slave  Lake,  he  left 
Fort  Reliance  on  June  7,  1834,  and  descended  the  Great 
Fish  River,  which  is  obstructed  by  many  falls'  in  the 
course  of  a  rapid  and  tortuous  course  of  530  miles.  The 
mouth  was  reached  in  67°  11'  N.,  when  the  want  of 
supplies  obliged  them  to  return.  In  1836  Sir  George 
Back  was  sent,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  Royal  Geographical 
Society,  to  proceed  to  Repulse  Bay  in  his  ship,  the 
"Terror,"  and  then  to  cross  an  assumed  isthmus  and 
examine  the  coast-line  thence  to  the  mouth  of  the  Great 
Fish  River ;  but  the  ship  was  obliged  to  winter  in  the 
drifting  pack,  and  was  brought  back  across  the  Atlantic 
in  a  sinking  condition. 

The  tracing  of  the  polar  shores  of  America  was  completed 
by  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company's  servants.  In  June  1837 
Messrs  Simpson  and  Dease  left  Chippewyan,  reached  the 
mouth  of  the  Mackenzie,  and  connected  that  position  with 
Point  Barrow,  which  had  been  discovered  by  the  "Blossom" 
in  1826.  In  1839  Simpson  passed  Cape  Turnagain  of 
Franklin,  tracing  the  coast  eastward  so  as  to  connect  with 
Back's  work  at  the  mouth  of  the  Great  Fish  River.  He 
landed  at  Montreal  Island  in  the  mouth  of  that  river,  and 
then  advanced  eastwaivi  as  far  as  Castor  and  Pollux  river, 
his  farthest  ea,stern  point.  On  his  return  he  travelled 
along  the  north  side  of  the  channel,  which  is  in  fact  the 
south  shore  of  the  King  WiUiam  Island  discovered  by 
James  Ross.  The  south-western  point  of  this  island  was 
named  Cape  Herschel,  and  there  Simpson  built  a  cairn  on 
August  26,  1639.  Very  little  more  remained  to  be  done 
in  order  to  complete  the  delineation  of  the  northern  shores 
of  the  American  continent.  This  was  entrusted  to  Dr 
John  Rae,  a  Hudson's  Bay  factor,  in  1846.  He  went  in 
toats  to  Repulse  Bay,  where  he  wintered  in  a  stone  hut 


nearly  on  the  Arctic  Circle ;  and  he  and  lis  six  Orkney 

men  maintained  themselves  on  the  deer  they  shot.  Durinff 
the  spring  of  1847  Dr  Rae  explored  on  foot  the  shore?  oi 
a  great  gulf  having  700  miles  of  coast-line.  He  thus  con- 
nected the  work  of  Parry,  at  the  mouth  of  Fury  and  Hecla 
Strait,  with  the  work  of  Ross  on  the  coast  of  Boothia, 
proving  that  Boothia  was  part  of  the  American  continent. 

While  the  English  were  thus  working  hard  to  solve 
some  of  the  geographical  problems  relating  to  Arctic 
America,  the  Russians  were  similarly  engaged  in  Siberia. 
In  1821  Lieutenant  Anjou  made  a  complete  survey  «f  the 
New  Siberia  Islands,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it 
was  not  possible  to  advance  far  from  them  in  a  northerly 
direction,  owing  to  the  thinness  of  the  ice  and  to  open 
water  within  20  or  30  miles.  Baron  Wrangell  prosecuted 
similar  investigations  from  the  mouth  of  the  Kolyma 
between  1820  and  1823.  He  made  four  journeys  with 
dog  sledges,  exploring  the  coast  between  Cape  Tchelagskoi 
and  the  Kolyma,  and  making  attempts  to  extend  his 
journeys  to  some  distance  from  the  land.  He  was  always 
stopped  by  thin  ice,  and  he  received  tidings  from  a  native 
chief  of  the  existence  of  land  at  a  distance  of  several 
leagues  to  the  northward.  In  1843  Jliddendorf  was  sent  Mid4« 
to  explore  the  region  which  terminates  in  Cape  Tchel-  ^°^ 
yuskin.  He  reached  the  cape  in  the  height  of  the  short 
summer,  whence  he  saw  ppen  water  and  no  ice  blink  in 
any  direction.  The  whole  arctic  shore  of  Siberia  had  now 
been  explored  and  delineated,  but  no  vessel  had  yet 
rounded  the  extreme  northern  point,  by  sailing  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Yenisei  to  that  of  the  Lena.  When  that 
feat  was  achieved  the  problem  of  the  north-east  passage 
would  be  solved. 

The  success  of  Sir  James  Ross's  Antarctic  expedition 
and  the  completion  of  the  northern  coast-lino  of  America 
by  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company's  servants  gave  rise  in 
1845  to  a  fresh  attempt  to  make  the  passage  from  Lancas- 
ter Sound  to  Behring  Strait.  The  story  of  this  unhappy 
expedition  of  Sir  John  Franklin,  in  the  "Erebus"  and 
"'Terror,"  has  already  been  told  under  Feanklik  (q.v.); 
but  some  geographical  details  may  be  given  here. 

To  understand  clearly  the  nature  of  the  obstacle  whick 
finally  stopped  Sir  John  Franklin,  and  which  also  stopped 
Sir  Edward  Parry  in  his  first  voyage,  it  is  necessary  to 
refer  to  the  map.  Westward  of  Melville  and  Baring 
Islands,  northward  of  the  western  part  of  the  American 
coast,  and  northward  of  the  channel  leading  from  Smith 
Sound,  there  is  a  vast  unknown  space,  the  ice  which 
encumbers  it  never  having  been  traversed  by  any  ship. 
All  navigators  who  have  skirted  along  its  edge  describe 
the  stupendous  thickness  and  massive  proportions  of  the 
vast  floes  with  which  it  is  packed.  This  accumulation  of 
ice  of  enormous  thickness,  to  which  Sir  George  Nares  has 
given  the  name  of  a  "  Palseocrystic  Sea,"  arises  from  the 
absence  of  direct  communication  between  this  portion  of 
the  north  polar  region  and  the  warm  waters  of  the  Atlantic 
and  Pacific  Behring  Strait  is  the  only  vent  in  a  south- 
westerly direction,  and  that  chaimel  is  so -shallow  that  the 
heavy  ice  grounds  outside  it.  In  other  directions  the 
channels  leading  to  Baffin's  Bay  are  narrow  and  tortuous. 
In  one  place  only  is  there  a  wide  and  straight  lead.  The 
heavy  polar  ice  flows  south-east  between  Melville  and  Baring 
Islands,  down  what  is  now  called  M'Clintock  Channel,  and 
imping3S  on  the  north-west  coast  of  the  King  WiUiam 
Land  discovered  by  James  Ross.  It  was  this  branch  from 
the  palseocrystic  sea  which  finally  stopped  the  progress  of 
Franklin's  expedition.  On  leaving  the  winter-quarters  at 
Beechey  Island  in  1846,  Franklin  found  a  channel  leading 
south,  along  the  western  shore  of  the  land  of  North  Somerset 
discovered  by  Parry  in  1 8 1 9.  If  he  could  reach  the  channel 
on  the  American  coast,  he  knew  that  he  would  be  able 


^ 


c 


POLAR     REGIONS 


321 


'to  make  his  way  along  it  to  Beliring  Strait. "  This  channel 
leading  south,  now  called  Peel  Sound,  pointed  directly  to 
the  south.  He  sailed  down  it  towards  King  William  Island, 
with  land  on  both  sides.  But  directly  they  passed  the 
southern  point  of  the  western  land,  and  were  no  longer 
shielded  by  it,  the  great  palreocrystic  stream  from  Jlelville 
Island  was  fallen  in  with,  pressing  on  King  William 
Island.  It  was  impassable.  The  only  possibility  of  pro- 
gress would  have  been  by  rounding  the  eastern  side  of 
ttving  William  Island,  but  its  insularity  was  then  unknown. 
It  was  not  until  1848  that  anxiety  began  to  be  felt 
^bout  the  Franklin  expedition.  In  the  sjiring  of  that 
year  Sir  James  Eoss  was  sent  with  two  ships,  the  "  Enter- 
prise "  and  "  Investigator,"  by  way  of  Lancaster  Sound. 
He  wintered  at  Leopold  Harbour,  near  the  ijorth-east 
point  of  North  Devon.  In  the  spring  he  made  a  long 
sledge  journey  with  Lieutenant  Jl'Clintock  along  the 
northern  and  western  coasts  of  North  Somerset. 

On  the  return  of  the  Ross  expedition  without  any 
tidings,  the  country  became  thoroughly  alarmed.  An 
extensive  plan  of  search  was  organized, — the  "Enterprise" 
and  "Investigator"  under  Collinson  and  M'Clure  proceed- 
ing by  Behring  Strait,  while  the  "  Assistance "  and 
"  Resolute  "  with  two  steam  tenders,  the  "  Pioneer  "  and 
"  Intrepid,"  sailed  Ma,y  3,  1850,  to  renew  the  search  by 
Barrow  Strait,  under  Captain  Austin.  Two  brigs,  the 
"Lady  Franklin"  and  "Sophia,"  under  Captain  Penny, 
^,  very  energetic  and  able  whaling  captain,  were  sent  by 
the  same  route.  He  had  with  him  Dr  Sutherland,  a 
naturalist,  who  did  much  valuable  scientific  work.  Austin 
and  Penny  entered  Barrow  Strait,  and  Franklin's  winter- 
quarters  of  1845-46  were  discovered  at  Beechey  Island; 
but  there  was  no  record  of  any  kind  indicating  the  direc- 
tion taken  by  the  ships.  Stopped  by  the  ice,  Austin's 
expedition  wintered  (1850-51)  in  the  pack  of!  Griffith 
Island,  and  Penny  found  refuge  in  a  harbour  on  the  south 
coast  of  Cornwallis  Island.  Austin,  who  had  been  with 
Parry  during  his  third  voyage,  was  an  admirable  organizer. 
His  arrangements  for  passing  the  winter  were  carefully 
thought  out  and  answered  perfectly.  In  concert  with  Penny 
he  planned  a  thorough  and  extensive  system  of  search  by 
means  of  sledge  travelling  in  the  spring ;  and  Lieutenant 
Jl'Clintock  superintended  every  minute  detail  of  this  part 
of  the  work  with  unfailing  forethought  and  consummate 
skill.  Penny  undertook  the  search  by  Wellington  Channel. 
M'Clintock  advanced  to  Melville  Island,  marching  over 
770  miles  in  eighty-one  days  ;  Captain  Ommanncy  and 
Sherard  Osborn  pressed  southward  and  discovered  Prince 
of  Wales  Island.  Lieutenant  Brown  examined  the  western 
shore  of  Peel  Sound.  The  search  was  exhaustive ;  but, 
except  the  winter-quarters  at  Beechey  Island, '  no  record, 
no  sign  was  discovered.  The  absence  of  any  record 
made  Captain  Austin  doubt  whether  Franklin  had  ever 
gone  beyond  Beechey  Island.  So  he  also  examined  the 
entrance  of  Jones  Sound,  the  next  inlet  from  Baffin's  Bay 
north  of  Lancaster  Sound,  on  his  way  home,  and  returned 
to  England  in  the  autumn  of  1851.  'This  was  a  thoroughly 
well-conducted  expedition, — especially  as  regards  the  sledge 
travelling,  which  M'Clintock  brought  to  great  perfection. 
So  far  as  the  search  for  Franklin  was  concerned,  nothing 
remained  to  be  done  west  or  north  of  Barrow  Strait. 

In  1851  the  "Prince  Albert"  schooner  was  sent  out  by 
Lady  J'ranklin,  under  Captain  Kennedy,  with  Lieutenant 
Beltot  of  the  French  navy  as  second.  They  wintered  on 
the  east  coast  of  North  Somerset,  and  in  the  spring  of  1852 
the  gallant  Frenchman,  in  the  course  of  a  long  sledging 
journey,  discovered  Bcllot  Strait  separating  North  Somerset 
from  Boothia, — this  proving  that  the  Boothia  coast  facing 
the  strait  was  the  northern  extremity  of  the  continent  of 
America. 


The  "Enterprise"  and  "Investigator"  sailed  from 
England  in  January  1850,  but  accidentally  parted  com- 
pany before  they  reached  Behring  Strait.  On  May  G,  1851, 
the  "  Enterprise "  passed  the  strait,  and  rounded  Point 
Barrow  on  the  25th.  Collinson  then  made  his  way  up  the 
narrow  Prince  of  Wales  Strait,  between  Baring  and  Prince 
Albert  Island,  and  reached  Princess  Royal  Islands,  where 
Jl'Clure  had  been  the  previous  year.  Returning  south- 
wards, the  "  Enterprise "  wintered  in  a  sound  in  Prince 
Albert  Island  in  71°  35'  N  and  117°  35'  W.  Three 
travelling  parties  were  despatched  in  the  spring  of  1852, — 
one  to  trace  Prince  Albert  Land  in  a  southerly  direction, 
while  the  others  explored  Prince  of  Wales  Strait,  one  of  thera 
reaching  !Melville  Island.  In  September  1852  the  ship  was 
free,  and  Collinson  pressed  eastward  along  the  coast  of  North 
America,  reaching  Cambridge  Bay  (September  26),  where 
the  second  winter  was  passed.  In  the  spring  he  examined 
the  shores  of  Victoria  I^and  as  far  as  70°  26'  N.  and 
100°  45'  W.  He  was  within  a  few  miles  of  Point  Victory, 
where  the  fate  of  Franklin  would  have  been  ascertained. 
The  "Enterprise"  again  put  to  sea  on  August  5,  1853, 
and  returned  westward  along  the  American  coast,  until 
she  was  stopped  by  ice  and  obliged  to  pass  a  third  winter 
at  Camden  Bay,  in  70°  8'  N.  and  145°  29'  W.  In  1854 
this  most  remarkable  voyage  was  completed,  and  Captain 
Collinson  brought  the   '  Enterprise  "  back  to  England. 

Meanwhile  M'Clure  in  the  "  Investigator  "  had  passed  M'CSur* 
the  winter  of  1850-51  at  the  Princess  Royal  Islands,  only 
30  miles  from  Barrow  Strait.  In  October  M'Clure 
ascended  a  hill  whence  he  could  see  the  frozen  surface  of 
Barrow  Strait  which  was  navigated  by  Parry  in  1819-20. 
Thus,  like  the  survivors  of  Franklin's  crews  when  they 
reached  Cape  Herschel,  M'Clure  discovered  a  north-west 
jjassage.  It  was  impossible  to  reach  it,  for  the  branch  of 
the  pateocrystic  ice  which  stopped  Franklin  ofi  King 
William  Land  was  athwart  their  northward  course.  So, 
as  soon  as  he  was  free  in  1851,  M'Clure  turned  south- 
wards, round  the  southern  extreme  of  Baring  Island,  and 
commenced  to  force  a  passage  to  the  northward  between 
the  western  shore  of  that  land  and  the  enormous  fields  of 
ice  which  pressed  upon  it.  The  cliffs  rose  up  like  walls 
on  one  side,  while  on  the  other  the  stupendous  ice  of  the 
palaeocrystic  sea  rose  from  the  water  to  a  level  with  the 
" Investigator's "  lower  yards.  After  many  hairbreadth 
escapes  M'Clure  took  refuge  in  a  bay  on  the  northern 
shore  of  Bank's  Land,  which  ho  named  "  The  Bay  of  God's 
Mercy."  Here  the  "Investigator"  remained,  never  to 
move  agairi.  After  the  winter  of  1851-52  Jl'Clure  made 
a  journey  across  the  ice  to  Melville  Island,  and  left  a 
record  at  Parry's  winter  harbour.  Abundant  supplies  of 
musk  ox  were  fortunately  obtained,  but  a  third  winter 
had  to  be  faced.  In  the  spring  of  1853  M'Clure  was  pre- 
paring to  abandon  the  ship  with  all  hands,  and  attempt, 
like  Franklin's  crews,  to  reach  the  American  coast.  But 
succour  providentially  arrived  in  time. 

The  Hudson's  Bay  Company  assisted  in  the  search  for 
Franklin.  In  1848  Sir  John  Richardson  and  Dr  Rae 
examined  the  American  coast  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Mackenzie  to  that  of  the  Coppermine.  In  1849  and  1850 
Rae  continued  the  search  ;  and  by  a  long  sledge  journey 
in  the  spring  of  1851,  and  a  boat  voyage  in  the  summer, 
he  examined  the  shores  of  Wollaston  and  Victoria  Land^ 
which  were  afterwards  explored  by  Captain  Collinson  in 
the  "  Enterprise." 

In  1852  the  British  Government  resolved  to  despatch 
another  expedition  by  Lancaster  Sound.  Austin's  four 
vessels  were  reconimissioned,  and  the  "  North  Star "  was 
sent  out  as  a  depot  ship  at  Beechey  Island.  Sir  Edward 
Belcher  commanded  the  "Assistance,"  with  the  "Pioneer" 
under  Sherard  Osborn  as  steam  tender.  Ho  went  up  Wclling- 

XIX  — 41 


322 


:e  0  L  A  R      li  E  G  I  0  N  S 


ton  Channel  to  Xorthumberland  Bay,  where  he  wintered, 
passing  a  second  winter  lower  down  in  Wellington  Channel, 
and  then  abandoning  his  ships  and  coining  home  in  1854. 
But  Sherard  Osborn  and  Commander  Eichards  did  good 
work.  They  made  sledge  journeys  to  Melville  Island,  and 
thus  discovered  the  northern  side  of  the  Parry  grouii.' 
Captain  Kellett  received  command  of  the  "  Resolute," 
with  Jl'Clintock  in  the  steam  tender  "  fntrepid."  Among 
Kellett'a  officers  were  the  best  of  Austin's  sledgo  travellers, 
.M'Clintock,  ilecham,  and  Yesey  Hamilton,  so  that  good 
work  was  sure  to  be  done.  George  Nares,  the  future 
leader  of  the  expedition  of  ISVi-T.'J,  was  also  on  board  the 
"Besolute.''  Kellett  passed  onwards  to  the  westward  and 
passed  the  winter  of  1852-53  at  ifelville  Island.  During 
the  autumn  Jloeham  discovered  M'Clure's  record,  and  the 
position  of  the  "  Investigator  "  was  thus  ascertained.  The 
safety  of  her  crew  was  consequently  assured,  for  it  was 
only  necessary  to  send  a  message  across  the  strait  between 
two  fixed  positions.  This  service  was  performed  by 
Lieutenant  Pim  early  in  the  following  spring.  The 
officers  and  crew  of  the  "Investigator,"  led  by  M'Clure, 
arrived  safely  on  board  the  "Resolute"  on  June  17,  18.'i3, 
and  they  reached  England  in  the  folIowiTig  year.  They 
not  only  discovered  but  traversed  a  north-west  passage, 
though  not  in  the  same  ship,  and  partly  by  travelling  over 
ice.  For  this  great  feat  ji'Clure  received  the  honour  of 
knighthood, — a  reward  of  £10,000  being  granted  to  him- 
self, the  other  officers,  and  the  crew,  by  a  vote  of  the 
House  of  Commons, 
sie'lge  The  travelling  parties  of  Kellett's  expedition,  led   by 

travelling.  Jl'Clintock,  Mecham,  and  Vesey  Hamilton,  completed  the 
discovery  of  the  northern  and  western  sides  of  Melville 
Island,  and  the  whole  outline  of  the  large  Island  of  Prince 
Patrick,  still  further  to  the  westward.  M'Clintock  was 
away  from  the  ship  with  his  sledge  party  for  one  hundred 
and  five  days  and  travelled  over  1328  miles.  Mecham 
was  away  ninety-four  days  and  travelled  over  1163  miles. 
Sherard  Osborn,  in  1853,  was  away  ninety-seven  days  and 
travelled  over  935  miles.  The  "Resolute"  was  obliged 
to  winter  in  the  pack  in  1853-54,  and  in  the  spring  of 
1854  Mecham  made  a  most  remarkable  journey  in  the 
hope  of  obtaining  news  of  Captain  CoUinson  at  the  Princess 
Royal  Islands.  Leaving  the  ship  on  3d  April  he  was 
absent  seventy  days,  out  of  which  there  were  sixty-one  and 
a  half  days  of  travelhng.  The  distance  gone  over  was 
1336  statute  miles.  The  average  rate  of  the  homeward 
journey  was  23  J  miles  a  day,  the  average  time  of  travelling 
each  day  nine  hours  twenty-five  minutes.  This  journey  is 
without  a  parallel  in  arctic  records. 

Fearing  detention  for  another  winter,  Sir  Edward 
Belcher  ordered  all  the  ships  to  be  abandoned  in  the  ice, 
the  officers  and  crews  being  taken  home  in  the  "  North 
Star,"  arid  in  the  "  Phcenix "  and  "  Talbot "  which  had 
come  out  from  England  to  communicate.  They  reached 
liome  in  October  1854.  In  1852  Captain  Inglefield,  R.N., 
had  made  a  voyage  up  Baffin's  Bay  in  the  "  Isabel "  as  far 
as  the  entrance  of  Smith  Sound.  In  1853  and  1854  he 
came  out  in  the  "  Phoenix "  to  communicate  with  the 
"North  Star"  at  Beechey  Island.  The  drift  of  the 
"  Resolute  "  was  a  remarkable  proof  of  the  direction  of  the 
current  out  of  Barrow  Strait.  She  was  abandoned  in  74° 
41  N.  and  101°  11'  W.  on  May  14,  1854.  On  September 
10,  1855,  an  American  whaler  sighted  the  "Resolute"  in 
67°  N.  lat.  about  twenty  miles  from  Cape  Mercy,  in  Davis 
Strait.  She  was  brought  into  an  American  port,  and 
eventually  presented  to  the  British  Government.  She  had 
drifted  nearly  a  thousand  miles. 

In  1853  Dr  Rae  was  employed  to  connect  a  few  points 
which  would  quite  complete  the  examination  of  the  coast 
of  America,  and  establish  the  insularity  of  King  William 


Land.'  He  went  up  Chesterfield  Inlet  and  the  river 
Quoich  for  a  considerable  distance,  wintering  with  eight 
men  at  Repulse  Bay  in  a  snow  house.  Venison  and  fish 
were  abundant.  In  1854  he  set  out  on  a  journey  which 
occupied  fifty-six  days  in  April  and  May.  He  succeeded 
in  connecting  the  discoveries  of  Simpson  with  those  of 
James  'Ross,  and  thus  established  the  fact  that  King 
William  Land  was  ai  island.  Rae  also  brought  home 
tidings  and  relics  of  Franklin's  expedition  gathered  from 
the  Eskimo ;  and  this  led  to  the  expedition  of  M'Clintock 
in  the  "  Fox,"  already  described  in  the  article  FEANKLI^ 
(vol.  Lx.  p.  721-22).  While  M'Clintock  was  prosecuting 
his  exhaustive  search  over  part  of  the  west  coast  of 
Boothia,  the  whole  of  the  shores  of  King  William  Island, 
the  mouth  of  the  Great  Fish  River,  and  Montreal  Island, 
Allen  Young  completed  the  discovery  of  the  southern  side 
of  Prince  of  Wales  Island.  The  "Fox"  returned  to 
England  in  the  autumn  of  1S59. 

"The  catastrophe  of  Sir  John  Franklin's  expedition  led 
to  7000  miles  of  coast-line  being  discovered,  and  to  a  vast 
extent  of  unknown  country  being  explored,  securing  very 
considerable  additions  to  geographical  knowledge.  Much 
attention  was  also  given  to  the  collection  of  information, 
and  the  scientific  results  of'the  various  search  expeditions 
were  considerable.  The  catastrophe  also  afforded  a  warn- 
ing which  would  render  any  similar  disaster  quite  inexcus- 
able. If  arrangements  are  always  carefully  made  for  a 
retreat  beforehand,  if  a  depot  ship  is  always  left  within 
reach  of  the  advancing  expedition  as  well  as.  of  the  outer 
world,  and  if  there  is  annual  communication,  wth  positive 
rules  for  depositing  records,  no  such  catastrophe  can  ever 
happen  again. 

liie  American  nation  was  first  led  to  take  an  interest  in 
polar  research  through  a  veiy  noble  and  generous  feeling 
of  sympathy  for  Franklin  and  his  brave  companions.  Mr 
Grinnell  of  New  York  gave  practical  expression  to  this 
feeling.  In  1850  he  equipped  two  vessels,  the  "  Advance  " 
and  "Rescue,"  to  aid  in  the  search,  commanded  by 
Lieutenants  De  Haven  and  Griffith,  and  accompanied  by 
Dr  Kane.  They  reached  Beechey  Island  on  August  27, 
1850,  and  assisted  in  the  examination  of  Franklin's  winter- 
quai  iers,  but  returned  without  wintering.  In  1853  Dr 
Kane,  in  the  little  brig  "Advance  "of  120  tons,  undertook 
to  lead  an  American  expedition  up  Smith  Sound,  the  most 
northern  outlet  from  Baffin's  Bay.  The  "  Advance " 
reached  Smith  Sound  on  the  7th  August  1853,  but  was 
stopped  by  ice  in  78°  45'  N.  only  17  miles  from  the 
entrance.  He  described  the  coast  as  consisting  of  pre- 
cipitous cliffs  800  to  1200  feet  high,  and  at  their  base 
there  was  a  belt  of  ice  about  18  feet  thick,  resting  on  the 
beach.  Dr  Kane  adopted  the  Danish  name  of  "  ice-foot  " 
(is  fod)  for  this  permanent  frozen  ridge.  He  named  the 
place  of  his  winter-quarters  Van  Rensselaer  Harbour.  In 
the  spring  some  interesting  work  was  done.  A  great 
glacier  was  discovered  and  named  the  Humboldt  glacier, 
with  a  sea  face  45  miles  long.  Dr  Kane's  steward,  Morton, 
crossed  the  foot  of  this  glacier  with  a  team  of  dogs,  and 
reached  a  point  of  land  beyond  named  Cape  Constitution. 
But  sickness  and  want  of  means  prevented  much  from  being 
done  by  travelling  parties.  Scurvy  attacked  the  whole  party 
during  the  second  winter,  although  the  Eskimo  supplied 
them  with  fresh  meat  and  were  true  friends  in  need.  On 
May  17,  1855,  Dr  Kane  abandoned  the  brig,  and  reached 
the  Danish  settlement  of  Upernivik  on  6th  August.  Lieu- 
tenant Hartstene,  who  was  sent  out  to  search  for  Kane, 
reached  Van  Rensselaer  Harbour  after  he  had  gone,  buf 
took  the  retreating  crew  on  board  on  his  return  voyage. 

On  July  lO,  1860,  Dr  Hayes,  who  had  served  with 
Kane,  sailed  from  Boston  for  Smith  Sound,  in  the  schooner 
"  United  Stivtes  "  of  130  tons  and  a  crew  of  .fifteen  meu« 


Work  rf 
the  seartt 
expedU 
tiona. 


Grinneff 
expedi= 

tiOD. 


Kjids 


t 


POLAR     REGIONS 


323 


His  object  was  to  follow  np  the  line  of  research  opened  by 
Dr  Kane.  He  wintered  at  Port  Foulke,  in  78°  17'  N., 
and  about  ten  miles  from  Cape  Alexander,  which  forms 
the  eastern  portal  of  Smith  Sound.  Dr  Hayes  crossed 
Smith  Sound  in  the  spring  with  dog-sledges,  but  his 
observations  are  not  to  be  depended  on,  and  it  is  very 
uncertain  how  far  he  advanced  northwards  on  the  other 
side.     He  returned  to  Boston  on  October  23,  1861. 

The  story  of  Charles  Hall  of  Cincinnati,  who  was  led 
to  become  an  arctic  explorer  through  his  deep  interest  in 
the  search  for  Franklin,  has  been  told  in  the  article 
devoted  to  him  (vol.  xi.  p.  388).  In  his  first  journey 
(1860-62)  he  discovered  the  interesting  remains  of  a  stone 
house  which  Sir  Martin  Frobisher  built  on  the  Countess  of 
Warwick  Island  in  1578.  In  his  second  e-xpedition 
(1864-69)  Hall  by  dint  of  the  most  unwearied  persever- 
ance at  length  reached  the  line  of  the  retreat  of  the 
Franklin  survivors,  at  Todd's  Island  and  Pefifer  river,  oH 
the  south  coast  of  King  William  Island.  He  heard  the 
story  of  the  retreat  and  of  the  wreck  of  one  of  the  ships 
from  the  Eskimo ;  he  was  told  that  seven  bodies  were 
buried  at  Todd  Island ;  and  he  brought  home  some  bones 
which  are  believed  to  be  those  of  Lieutenant  Le  Vescomte 
of  the  "Erebus."  Finally,  in  1871,  he  took  the  "Polaris" 
for  250  miles  up  the  channel  which  leads  northwards  from 
Smith  Sound.  The  various  i)arts  of  this  long  channel  are 
called  Smith  Sound,  Kane  Basin,  Kennedy  Channel,  and 
Robeson  Channel.  The  "  Polaris  "  was  beset  in  82°  1 6'  N. 
on  30th  August;  and  her  winter-quarters  were  in  81°  38'  N., 
called  Thank  God  Bay.  The  death  of  Hall  and  the  subse- 
quent fortunes  of  the  expedition  have  been  described  in 
the  article  above  cited. 

The  Spitsbergen  seas  have  been  explored,  in  recent 
years,  by  Norwegian  fishermen  as  well  as  by  Swedish  and 
German  expeditions  and  by  English  yachtsmen.  The 
Norwegian  Spitzbergen  fishery  dates  from  1820,  but  it  is 
only  in  recent  years  that  Professor  Mohn  of  Christiania 
has  watched  over  the  voyages  and  carefully  collected 
information  from  the  captains.  In  1863  Captain  Carlsen 
circumnavigated  the  Spitzbergen  group  for  the  first  time 
in  a  brig  called  the  "Jan  Mayen."  In  1864  Captain 
Tobiesen  sailed  round  North-East  Land.  In  1872  Captains 
Altmann  and  Nils  Johnscn  visited  Wiche's  Land,  which 
was  discovered  by  Captain  Edge  in  1617.  In  that  year 
there  were  twenty-three  sailing  vessels  from  Tromso, 
twenty-four  from  Hammerfest,  and  one  from  Vardo 
engaged  .in  the  arctic  scaling  trade.  They  average  from 
35  to  40  tons,  and  carry  a  dozen  men.  There  were  also 
eight  vessels  from  Tromso  shark-fishing  for  cod-liver  oil, 
and  fifty  from  Hammerfest  and  Vardij.  Since  1869  the 
Norwegians  have  extended  their  voyages  to  Nova  Zembla. 
In  that  year  Carlsen  crossed  the  Sea  of  Kara  and  reached 
the  mouth  of  the  Obi.  In  1870  there  were  about  sixty 
Norwegian  vessels  in  the  Barents  Sea,  and  Captain 
Johannesen  circumnavigated  Nova  Zembla.  In  1873 
Captain  Tobiesen  was  unfortunately  obliged  to  winter  on 
the  Nova  Zembla  coast,  owing  to  the  loss  of  his  schooner, 
and  botli  ho  and  his  young  son  died  of  scurvy  in  the 
spring.  Two  years  previously  Captain  Carlsen  had  suc- 
ceeded in  reaching  the  winter-quarters  of  Barents,  the 
first  visitor  since  1597,  an  interval  of  two  hundred  and 
seventy-four  years.  He  landed  on  September  9,  1871, 
and  found  the  house  still  standing  and  full  of  interesting 
relics,  which  are  now  in  the  naval  museum  at  the  Hague. 

Betweenl858  and  1872  the  Swedes  sent  seven  expeditions 
to  Spitzbergen  and  two  to  Greenland.  All  returned  with 
valurble  scientific  results.  That  of  1864  under  Norden- 
akiijld  and  Duner  made  obeervations  at  eighty  different 
places  on  the  Spitibergen  shores,  and  fixed  the  heights  of 
jiumerous  mountains.     In  1868,  in  an  iron  steamer,  the 


"Sophia,"  the  Swedes  attained  a  latitude  of  81°  42'  N.  on 
the  meridian  of  18°  E.,  during  the  month  of  September. 
In  1872  an  expedition  consisting  of  the  "  Polhem  "  steamer 
and  brig"  Gladen,"  commanded  by  Professor  Nordcnskiold 
and  Lieutenant  Pal^oder,  wintered  in  Mussel  Bay,  on  the 
northern  shore  of  Spitzbergen.  In  the  spring  an  import- 
ant sledging  journey  of  sixty  days'  duration  was  made  over 
North-East  '•j'nd.  The  expedition  was  in  some  distress  as 
regards  provisions  owing  to  two  vessels,  which  were  to  have 
returned,  having  been  forced  to  winter.  But  in  the  summer 
of  1873  they  were  visited  by  Mr  Leigh  Smith,  in  his  yacht 
"  Diana,"  who  supplied  them  with  fresh  jirovisions. 

Dr  Petermann  of  Gotha  urged  his  countrymen  to  take" 
their  share  in  the  noble  work  of  polar  discovery,  and  at 
his  own  risk-  he  fitted  out  a  small  vessel  called  the 
"Germania,"  which  sailed  from  Bergen  in  Jlay  1868, 
under  the  command  of  Captain  Koldewey.  His  cruise 
extended  to  Hinlopen  Strait  in  Spitzbergen,  but  was  merely 
tentative;  and  in  1870  Baron  von  Heuglin  with  Count 
Zeil  explored  the  Stor  Fjord  in  a  Norwegian  schooner,  and 
also  examined  Walter  Thymen's  Strait.  After  the  return 
of  the  "Germania"  in  1868  a  regular  expedition  was 
organized  under  the  command  of  Captain  Koldewey,  pro- 
visioned for  two  years.  It  consisted  of  the  "  Germania," 
a  screw  steamer  of  140  tons,  and  the  brig  "Han.'ia"  com- 
manded by  Captain  Hegemann.  Lieutenant  Payer,  the 
future  discoverer  of  Franz  Josef  Land,  gained  his  first 
arctic  experience  on  board  the  "  Germania.'  The  expedi- 
tion sailed  from  Bremen  on  the  15th  June  1869,  its 
destination  being  the  east  coast  of  Greenland.  But  it 
latitude  70°  46'  N.  the  "  Hansa  "  got  separated  from  her 
consort  and  crushed  in  the  ice.  The  crew  built  a 
house  of  patent  fuel  on  the  floe,  and  in  this  strange 
abode  they  passed  their  Christmas.  In  two  months 
the  current  had  carried  them  south  for  400  miles. 
By  May  they  had  drifted  1100  miles  on  their  ice-raft, 
and  finally,  on  June  14,  1870,  they  arrived  safely  at 
the  Moravian  mission  station  of  Friedriksthal,  to  the 
west  of  Cape  Farewell.  Fairer  fortune-  attended  the 
"Germania."  She  sailed  up  the  east  coast  of  Greenland 
as  high  as  75°  30'  N.,  and  eventually  wintered  at  the 
Pendulum  Islands  of  Clavering  in  74°  30'  N.  In  March 
1870  a  travelling  party  set  out,  under  Koldewey  and 
Payer,  and  reached  a  distance  of  100  miles  from  the  ship 
to  the  northward,  when  want  of  provisions  compelled  them 
to  return.  A  grim  cape,  named  after  Prince  Bismarck, 
marked  the  northern  limit  of  their  discoveries.  As  soon 
as  the  vessel  was  free,  a  deep  branching  fjord  was  dis- 
covered in  73°  15'  N.  stretching  for  a  long  distance  into 
the  interior  of  Greenland.  Along  its  shore  are  peaks  7000 
and  14,000  feet  high.  The  expedition  returned  to  Bremen 
on  September  11,  1870. 

Lieutenant  Payer  was  resolved  to  continue  in  the  path" 
of  polar  discovery.  He  and  a  naval  officer  named 
Wcyprecht  freighted  a  Norwegian  schooner  called  the 
"  Isbjbrn,"  and  examined  the  edge  of  the  ice  between 
Spitzbergen  and  Nova  Zembla,  in  the  summer  of  1871. 
Their  observations  led  them  to  select  the  route  by  the 
north  end  of  Nova  Zembla  with  a  view  to  making  the 
north-cast  pas.sage.  It  was  to  be  an  Austria-Hungarian 
expedition,  and  the  idea  was  seized  with  enthusiasm  by 
the  whole  cnii>ire.  Wcyprecht  was  to  command  the  ship, 
while  Julius  Payer  conducted  the  sledge  parties.  The 
steamer  "  Tegethoff,"  of  300  tons,  was  fitted  out  in  the 
Elbe,  and  loft  Trom.so  on  July  1-t,  1872.  Tlio  season  was 
exceptionally  severe,  and  the  vessel  was  closely  beset  neat 
Cape  Nas.sau,  at  the  northern  end  of  Nova  Zembla,  in  the 
end  of  August  The  summer  of  1873  found  her  still  a  close 
prisoner  drifting,  not  with  a  current^  but  in  the  direction 
of  the  prevailing  wind.     At  length,  on  the  Slat  August,  a 


324 


POLAR     REGIONS 


mountainous  country  was  sighted  about  14  miles  to  the 
north.  In  October  the  vessel  was  drifted  within  3  miles 
of  an  island  lying  oS  the  main  mass  of  land.  Payer 
landed  on  it,  and  found  the  latitude  to  be  79°  54'  N.  It 
was  named  after  Count  Wilczek,  one  of  the  warmest 
friends  of  the  expedition.  Here  the  second  winter  was 
passed.  Bears  were  very  numerous  and  as  many  as  sixty- 
seven  were  killed,  their  meat  proving  to  be  a  most  eEcient 
remedy  against  scurvy.  In  March  1874  Payer  made  a 
preliminary  sledge  journey  in  intense  cold  (thermometer 
at  -  58°  F.).  On  24th  March  he  started  for  a  more  pro- 
longed journey  of  thirty  days.  Payer  found  that  the 
newly  discovered  country  equalled  Spitzbergen  in  extent, 
and  consisted  of  two  or  more  large  masses — Wilczek  Land 
to  the  east,  Zichy  Land  to  the  west,  intersected  by  numer- 
ous' fjords  and  skirted  by  a  large  number  of  islands.  A 
wide  channel,  named  Austria  Sound,  separates  the  two 
main  masses  of  land,  and  extends  to  82°  N.,  where  Rawlin- 
son  Sound  forks  off  to  the  north-east.  The  mountains 
attain  a  height  of  2000  to  3000  feet,  the  depressions 
between  them  being  covered  with  glaciers ;  and  aU  the 
islands  even  are  covered  with  a  glacial  cap.  The  whole 
country  was  named  Franz-Josef  Land.  Payer  returned  to 
the  "  TegethofE "  on  24th  April ;  and  a  third  journey  was 
undertaken  to  explore  a  large  island  named  after  M'Clin- 
tock.  It  then  became  necessary  to  abandon  the  ship  and 
attempt  a  retreat  in  boate.  ■This  perilous  voyage  was  com- 
menced on  20th  May.  Three  boats  stored  with  provisions 
were  placed  on  sledges.  It  was  not  until  14  th  August  that 
they  reached  the  edge  of  the  pack  in  77°  40'  N.,  and  launched 
the  boats.  Eventually  they  were  picked  up  by  a  Russian 
schooner  and  arrived  at  Vardci  on  September  3,  1874. 
This  great  achievement  is  one  of  the  most  important  con- 
nected with  the  north  polar  region  that  has  been  made  in 
the  present  century,  and  will  probably  lead  in  due  time  to 
still  further  discoveries  in  the  same  direction. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  problems  connected  with 
the  physical  geography  of  the  polar  regions  is  the  history 
and  actual  condition  of  the  vast  interior  of  Greenland, 
which  is  generally  believed  to  be  one  enormous  glacier. 
In  1867  Mr  Edward  Whymper  carefully  planned  an 
expedition  to  solve  the  question,  aind  went  to  Greenland, 
accompanied  by  Dr  Robert  Brown ;  but  the  season  was 
too  late,  and  progress  was  stopped,  after  going  a  short 
distance,  by  the  breaking  down  of  the  dog-sledges.  But 
Dr  Brown  made  most  valuable  geological  and  natural 
history  collections,  chiefly  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Disco, 
and  still  more  valuable  observations,  the  publication  of 
which  has  added  considerably  to  our  knowledge.  Dr 
Rink,  for  many  years  royal  inspector  of  South  Greenland 
and  the  most  distinguished  authority  on  all  Greenlandic 
questions,  has  also  visited  the  inland  ice,  and  has  given 
his  stores  of  information  to  the  world.  The  most  import- 
ant inland  journey  was  undertaken  by  Professor  Norden- 
skiold  in  1870,  accompanied  by  Dr  Berggren,  the  professor 
of  botany  at  Lund.  The  difficulty  of  traversing  the 
inland  ice  of  Greenland  is  caused  by  the  vast  glacier  being 
in  constant  motion,  advancing  slowly  towards  the  sea. 
This  movement  gives  rise  to  huge  chasms  and  clefts,  which 
from  their  almost  bottomless  depth  close  the  traveller's 
way.  The  chasms  occur  chiefly  where  the  movementof  the 
glacier  is  most  rapid,  near  the  ice  streams  which  reach  the 
sea  and  discharge  glaciers.  Nordenskiold,  therefore,  chose 
for  a  starting  point  the  northern  arm  of  a  deep  inlet  called 
Auleitsivikfjord,  which  is  60  miles  south  of  the  discharging 
glacier  at  Jakobshavn  and  240  north  of  that  at  Godtbaab. 
He  commenced  his  inland  journey  on  19th  July.  The 
party  consisted  of  himself,  Dr  Berggren,  and  two  Green- 
landers  ;  and  tliey  advanced  30  milci  over  the  glaciers  to 
9  height  of  2200  feet  above  the  sea. 


The  gallant  enterprises  of  other  countries  rekindled  the 
zeal  of  England  for  arctic  discovery;  and  in  October  1874 
the  prime  minister  announced  that  an  expedition  would' be 
despatched  in  the  following  year.  The  route  by  Smith 
Sound  was  selected  because  it  gave  the  certainty  of  ex- 
ploring a  previously  unknown  area  of  considerable  extent, 
because  it  yielded  the  best  prospect  of  valuable  scientific 
results,  and  because  it  offered,  with  proper  precautions, 
reasonable  security  for  a  safe  retreat  in  case  of  disaster. 

Two  powerful  screw  steamers,  the  "  Alert "  and  "  Dis- 
covery," were  selected  for  the  service,  and  Captain  Nares 
was  selected  as  leader.  Commander  Markham,  who  had 
made  a  cruise  up  Baffin's  Bay  and  Barrow  Strait  in  a 
whaler  during  the  previous  year,  Lieutenant  Aldrich,  an 
accomplished  surveyor,  and  Captain  Feilden,  R.A.,  as 
naturalist,  were  also  in  the  "  Alert."  The  "  Discovery  " 
was  commanded  by  Captain  Stephenson,  with  Lieutenant 
Beaumont  as  first  lieutenant.  The  expedition  left  Ports- 
mouth on  the  29th  May  1875,  and  entered  Smith  Sound 
in  the  last  days  of  July,  After  much  difficulty  with  the 
drifting  ice  Lady  Franklin  Bay  was  reached  in  81°  44'  N., 
where  the  "  Discovery  "  was  established  in  uinter-quarters. 
The  "  Alert "  pressed  onwards,  and  reached  the  edge  of 
the  paltEocrystic  sea,  the  ice-floes  being  from  80  to  100 
feet  in  thickness.  Leaving  Robeson  Channel,  the  vessel 
made  progress  between  the  land  and  the  grounded  floe 
pieces,  and  passed  the  winter  off  the  open  coast  and  facing 
the  great  polar  pack,  in  82°  .27'  N.  Autumn  travelling 
parties  were  despatched  in  September  and  October  to  lay 
out  dep6t3 ;  and  during  the  winter  a  complete  fecheme 
was  matured  for  the  examination  of  as  much  of  the 
unknown  area  as  possible,  by  the  combined  efforts  of 
sledging  parties  from  the  two  ships,  in  the  ensuing  spring. 
The  parties  started  on  April  3,  1876.  Captain  Markham 
with  Lieutenant  Parr  advanced,  in  the  face  of  almost 
insurmountable  difficulties,  over  the  polar  pack  to  the 
high  latitude  of  83°  20'  26"  N.  Lieutenant  Aldrich  ex- 
plored the  coast-line  to  the  westward,  facing  the  frozen 
polar  ocean,  for  a  distance  of  220  miles.  Lieutenant 
Beaumont  made  discoveries  of  great  interest  along  the 
northern  coast  of  Greenland.  The  parties  were  attacked 
by  scurvy,  which,  while  increasing  the  difficulty  and 
hardships  of  the  work  a  hundredfold,  also  enhanced  the 
devoted  heroism  of  these  gallant  explorers.  Captain 
Feilden  was  indefatigable  in  making  collections,  and  was 
zealously  assisted  by  all  the  officers.  The  expedition 
returned  to  England  in  October  1876.  The  "Alert" 
reached  the  highest  northern  latitude  ever  attained  by 
any  ship,  and  wintered  further  north  than  any  ship  had 
ever  wintered  before.  The  results  of  the  expedition 
were  the  discovery  of  300  miles  of  new  coast-line,  the 
examination  of  this  part  of  the  frozen  polar  ocean,  a 
series  of  meteorological,  magnetic,  and  tidal  observations 
at  two  points  farther  north  than  any  such  observations 
had  ever  been  taken  before,  and  large  geological  and 
natural  history  collections. 

In  the  same  year  1875  Sir  Allen  Young  undertook  a 
voyage  in  his  steam  yacht  the  "  Pandora "  to  attempt  to 
force  his  way  down  Peel  Sound  to  the  magnetic  pole,  and 
if  possible  to  make  the  north-west  passage  by  rounding 
the  eastern  shore  of  King  William  Island.  The  "  Pandora  " 
entered  Peel  Sound  on  August  29,  1875,  and  proceeded 
down  it  much  farther  than  any  vessel  had  gone  before 
since  it  was  passed  by  Franklin's  two  ships  in  1846. 
Sir  Allen  reached  a  latitude  of  72°  14'  N.,  and  sighted 
Cape  Bird,  at  the  northern  side  of  the  western  entrance 
of  Bellot  Strait..  But  here  an  ice-barrier  right  across 
the  channel  barred  his  progress,  and  he  was  obliged  to 
retrace  his  steps,  returning  to  England  on  October  16, 
1875.     In   the   following  year   Sir   Allen   Ycung   made 


POLAR     REGIONS 


325 


another  voyage  in  the  "  Pandora"  to  the  entrance  of  Smith 
Sound. 

Lieutenant  Koolemans  Beynen,  a  yt)ung  Dutch  officer, 
who  had  shared  Young's  two  polar  voyages,  on  his  return 
snccessfully  endeavoured  to  interest  his  countryraeQ  in 
polar  discovery.  It  was  wisely  determined  that  the  first 
expeditions  of  Holland  should  be  summer  reconnaissances 
on  a  small  scale.  A  sailing  schooner  of  79  tons  was  built 
it  Amsterdam,  and  named  the  "  Willem  Barents."  In 
her  first  cruise  she  was  commanded  by  Lieutenant  A.  de 
Bruyne,  with  Koolemans  Beynen  as  second,  and  she  sailed 
from  Holland  on  the  6th  May  1878.  Her  instructions 
were  to  examine  the*  ice  in  the  Barents  and  Spitzbergen 
Seas,  take  deep-sea  s  fundings,  and  make  natural  history 
collections.  She  waa  also  to  erect  memorials  to  early 
Dutch  polar  worthies  at  certain  designated  points.  These 
instructions  were  ably  and  zealously  carried  out.  Beynen 
died  in  the  following  year,  but  the  work  he  initiated  has 
been  continued.  E'-'ery  year  from  1878  to  1884  the 
"  Willem  Barents "  1  as  made  a  polar  voyage,  and  has 
brought  back  usefur  scientific  results.  In  1879  the  Dutch 
succeeded  in  sightir  v;  the  coast  of  Franz-Josef  Land. 

In  1879  Sir  H  Inry  Gore-Booth,  Bart.,  and  Captain 
A.  H.  Markham,  li.N.,  undertook  a  polar  cruise  in  the 
Norwegian  schoonT  "  Isbjorn."  They  sailed  along  the 
west  coast  of  Nova  IJembla  to  its  most  northern  point, 
p^sed  through  the  ^'atotchkin  Shar  to  the  east  coast,  and 
examined  the  ice  in  t'le  direction  of  Franz-Josef  Land  as 
far  as  78°  24'  N.  Captain  Markham  brought  home 
collections  in  variouij  branches  of  natural  history,  and 
made  useful  observations  on  the  drift  and  nature  of  the  ice 
in  the  Barents  and  Kara  Seas. 

In  1880  Mr  Leigh  Smith,  who  had  previously  made 
three  voyages  to  Spitzbergen,  reached  Franz-Josef  Land  in 
the  screw  steamer  "Eira."  It  was  observed  that,  while 
the  Greenland  icebergs  are  generally  angular  and  peaked, 
those  of  Franz-Josef  Land  are  vast  masses  quite  flat  on 
the  top,  like  the  Antarctic  bergs,  and  from  150  to  200  feet 
high.  The  "  Eira"  sailed  along  the  land  to  the  westward, 
and  discovered  110  miles  of  new  coast  line  as  far  as  ths 
western  extreme  of  the  south  side  of  Franz-Josef  Land, 
whence  the  land  trended  north-west.  ■  A  landing  was 
effected  at  several  points,  and  valuable  collections  were 
made  in  natural  history.  In  the  following  year  the  same 
explorer  left  Peterhead  on  July  14  ;  Franz-Joseph  Land  was 
once  more  sighted  on  the  23d  July,  and  the  "Eira" 
reached  a  point  farther  west  than  had  been  possible  in  her 
previous  voyage.  But  in  August  the  ship  was  caught  in 
the  ice,  was  nipped,  and  sank.  A  hut  was  built  on  shore 
in  which  Mr  Leigh  Smith  and  his  crow  passed  ^le  winter 
of  1881-82  ;  and  on  June  21,  1882,  they  started  in  four 
boats,  to  reach  some  vessels  on  the  Nova  Zembla  coast. 
It  was  a  most  laborious  and  perilous  voyage.  They  were 
first  seen  and  welcomed  by  the  "Willem  Barents"  on  2d 
August,  and  soon  afterwards  were  taken  on  board  the 
"Hope,"  a  whaler  which  had  come  out  for  their  rescue 
under  the  command  of  Sir  Allen  Young. 

Professor  Nordenskibkl,  when  ho  projected  the  achieve- 
ment of  the  north-east  passage,  was  a  veteran  polar 
explorer,  for  ho  had  been  in  six  previous  expeditions  to 
Greenland  and  Spitzbergen.  In  1875  ho  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  the  possibility  of  navigating  the  seas  along  the 
northern  coast  of  Siberia.  Captain  Wiggins  of  Sunderland 
was  a  pioneer  of  this  route,  and  his  voyages  in  1874, 
1875,  and  1876  led  the  way  to  a  trade  between  the  ports 
of  Europe  and  the  mouth  of  the  Yenisei  river.  *  In  June 
1875  Professor  Nordenskiijld  sailed  from  Tromsii  in  tho 
"  Proven,"  reached  the  Yenisei  by  way  of  the  Kara  Sea, 
and  discovered  an  excellent  harbour  on  the  eastern  side  of 
its  mouth,  which  was  namai  Port  Dickson,  in  honour  of 


Mr  Oscar  Dickson  of  Gothenburg,  the  munificent  sU['porter 
of  the  Swedish  expeditions. »  It  having  been  buggc^tc"! 
that  the  success  of  this  voyage  was  due  to  the  unusual 
state  of  the  ice  in  1875,  Nordenskibld  undertook  a  voyago 
in  the  following  year  in  the  "Ymer"  which  was  equally 
successful.  By  a  minute  study  of  the  history  of  former 
attempts,  and  a  careful  consideration  of  all  the  circum- 
stances, Profes.sor  Nordenskibld  convinced  himself  that  tlio 
achievement  of  the  north-east  passage  was  feasible.  Thi- 
king  of  Sweden,  Mr  Oscar  Dickson,  and  M.  Sibiriakoff,  a 
wealthy  Siberian  proprietor,  supplied  tho  funds,  and  the 
steamer  "  Yega  "  was  purchased.  Nordenskibld  was  leader 
of  the  expedition.  Lieutenant  Palander  was  appointed 
commander  of  the  ship,  and  there  was  an  efficient  staff  of 
officers  and  naturalists,  including  Lieutenant  Hovgaard  of 
the  Dutch  and  Lieutenant  Bove  of  the  Italian  navy.  A 
small  steamer  called  the  "  Lena  "  was  to  keep  company 
with  the  "Vega"  as  far  as  the  mouth  of  the  Lena,  and 
they  sailed  from  Gothenburg  on  the  4th  July  1878.  On 
the  morning  of  10th  August  they  left  Port  Dickson,  and 
on  the  19th  they  reached  the  most  northern  point  of 
Siberia  and  of  the  Old  World,  Cape  Severo  or  Tcholyuskin, 
in  77°  41'  N.  On  leaving  the  extreme  northern  point 
of  Asia  a  south-easterly  course  was  steered,  the  sea  being 
free  from  ice  and  very  shallow.  This  absence  of  ice  is 
due  to  the  mass  of  warm  water  discharged  by  the  great 
Siberian  rivers  during  the  summer.  On  27th  August  the 
mouth  of  the  river  Lena  was  passed,  and  the  "Vega" 
parted  company  with  the  little  "Lena,"  continuing  her 
course  eastward.  Professor  Nordenskibld  .very  nearly 
made  the  north-east  passage  in  one  season.  Towards  the 
end -of  September  the  "Vega"  was  frozen-in  off  the  shore 
of  a  low  plain  in  67°  7'  N.  and  173°  20'  W.  near  the 
settlements  of  the  Tchuktches.  During  the  voyage  very 
large  and  important  natural  history  collections  were  made, 
and  the  interesting  aboriginal  tribe  among  whom  the 
winter  was  passed  was  studied  with  great  care.  Tho 
interior  was  also  explored  for  some  distance.  On  July 
18,  1879,  after  having  been  imprisoned  by  the  ice  for  two 
hundred  and  ninety-four  days,  the  "  Vega "  again  pro- 
ceeded on  her  voyago  and  passed  Behring  Strait  on  tho 
20th.  Sir  Hugh  Willoughby  made  the  first  attempt  in 
1553.  After  a  lapse  of  throe  hundred  and  twenty-six 
years,  the  north-east  passage/  had  at  length  been  accom- 
plished without  the  loss  of  a  single  life  and  without  damage 
to  the  vessel.  The  "Vega"  arrived  at  Yokohama  on 
September  2,  1879. 

In  1879  an  enterprise  wsis  undertaken  in  the  UnUed 
States,  with  the  object  of  tUrowing  further  light  on  the^ 
sad  history  of  the  retreat  of  tho  officers  and  men  of  Sir, 
John  Franklin's  expedition,  by  examining  the  west  coastl 
of  King  William  Island  in  the  summer,  when  the  snow  is 
off  the  ground.  .  The  paity  consisted  of  Lieutenant 
Schwatka  of  tho  United  States  army  and  three  others. 
Wintering  near  the  entrance  of  Chesterfield  Inlet  in 
Hudson's  Bay,  they  set  out,  overland  for  tho  estuary  of 
tho  Great  Fish  River,  assisted  by  Eskimo  and  dogs,  on 
April  1,  1879.  They  only  took  one  month's  i)rovisions, 
their  main  reliance  being  ujxin  the  game  afforded  by  the 
region  to  be  traversed.  The  party  obtained,  during  the 
journeys  out  and  home,  no  less  than  five  hundred  and 
twenty-two  reindeer.  After  collecting  various  stories  from 
the  Eskimo  at  Montreal  Is'and  and  at  an  inlet  west  of 
Capo  Richardson,  Schwatka  crossed  over  to  Capo  Herschcl 
on  King  William  Island  in  June.  He  examined  tho 
western  shore  of  the  island  with  the  greatest  care  for 
relics  of  Sir  John  Franklin's  parties,  as  far  as  Cape  Felix, 
the  northern  extremity.  The  return  journey  was  com- 
menced in  November  by  ascending  the  Great  Fish  Rivet 
for  some  distance  and  then  marching  over  the  intcrvcnin 


526 


POLA.E      REGIONS 


region  to  Hudson's  Bay.  The  cold  of  the  winter  months 
in  this  country  is  intense,  the  thermometer  failing  as  low 
as  -  70°, —  so  that  the  return  journey  was  most  remarkable, 
and  reflects  the  highest  credit  on  Lieutenant  Schwatka 
and  his  companions.  As  regards  the  search  little  was 
left  to  be  done  after  M'Clintcck,  but  some  graves  were 
found,  as  well  as  a  medal  belonging  to  Lieutenaut  Irving 
of  H.M.S.  "Terror,"  and  some  bones  believed  to  be  his, 
which  were  brought  home  and  interred  at  Edinburgh. 

Mr  Gordon  Bennett,  the  proprietor  of  the  A^'eiv  Tori 
Herald,  having  resolved  to  despatch  an  expedition  of  dis- 
covery at  his  own  expense  by  way  of  Behring  Strait,  the 
''  Pandora  "  was  purchased  from  Sir  Allen  Young,  and  re- 
christened  the  "  Jeannette."  Lieutenant  De  Long  of  the 
United  States  navy  was  appointed  to  command,  and  it 
was  made  a  national  undertaking  by  special  Act  of  Con- 
gress, the  vessel  being  placed  under  martial  law  and 
officered  from  the  navy.  The  "Jeannette"  sailed  from 
San  Francisco  on  July  8,  1879,  and  was  last  seen  steaming 
towards  Wrangell  Land  on  the  3d  September.  This  land 
Lad  been  seen  by  Captain  Kellett,  in  H.M.S.  "Herald" 
on  Augustol7,  1879,  but  no  one  had  landed  on  it,  and  it 
was  shown  on  the  charts  by  a  long  dotted  line.  The 
"Jeannette"  was  provisioned  for  three  years,  but  as  no 
tidings  had  been  received  of  her  up  to  1881,  two  steamers 
were  sent  up  Behring  Strait  in  search.  One  of  these,  the 
"Eodgers,"  under  Lieutenant  Berry,  anchored  in  a  good 
harbour  on  the  south  coast  of  Wrangell  LatKl,  in  70°  57' 
(N.  on  the  26th  August  1881.  The  land  was  explored  by 
the  officers  of  the  "  Rodgers  "  and  found  to  be  an  island 
about  70  miles  long  by  28,  with  a  ridge  of  hills  traversing  it 
east  and  west,  the  71st  parallel  running  along  its  southern 
shore.  Lieutenant  Berry  then  proceeded  to  examine  the 
ice  to  the  northw'ard,  and  attained  a  higher  latitude  by 
21  miles  than  had  ever  been  reached  before  on  the  Behring 
Strait  meridian,  namely  73°  44'  N.  Sir  R.  Collinson,  in 
1850,  had  reached  73°  23'  N.  No  news  was  obtained  of 
the  "  Jeannette,"  but  soon  afterwards  melancholy  tidings 
arrived  from  Siberia.  After  having  been  beset  in  heavy 
pack  ice  for  twenty-two  months,  the  "  Jeannette "  was 
crushed  and^sunk  on  the  12th  June  1881,  in  77°  15'  N. 
lat.  and  155°  E.  long.  The  officers  and  mea  dragged  their 
boats  over  the  ice  to  an  island  which  was  named  Bennett 
Island,  where  thty  landed  on  the  29th  July.  They 
reached  one  of  the  New  Siberia  Islands  on  the  10th 
September,  and  on  the  12th  they  set  out  for  the  mouth  of 
the  Lena.  But  in  the  same  evening  the  three  boats  were 
separated  in  a  gale  of  wind.  A  boat's  crew  with  Jlr 
Melville,  the  engineer,  reached  Irkutsk,  and  Mr  Melville 
set  out  in  search  of  Lieutenaut  De  Long  and  his  party, 
who  had  also  landed.  The  other  boat  was  lost.  Eventually 
Melville  discovered  the  dead  bodies  of  De  Long  and  two  of 
his  crew  on  March  23,  1883.  They  had  perished  from»ex- 
haustion  a;nd  want  of  food.  The  "Rodgers"  was  burnt  in  its 
winter  quarters,  and  one  Of  the  officers,  Mr  Gilder,  made  a 
hazardous  journey  homewards  through  north-east  Siberia. 

The  Danes  have  been  very  active  in  prosecuting  dis- 
coveries and  scientific  investigations  in  Greenland,  since 
the  journey  of  Nordenskibld  in  1870.  Lieutenant  Jensen 
made  a  gallant  attempt  to  penetrate  the  inland  ice  in 
1878,  and  Professor  Steenstrup,  vrith  Lieutenant  Hammer, 
closely  investigated  the  formation  of  ice  masses  at  Omenak 
and  Jacobshavn.  In  1883  an  expedition  under  Lieu- 
tenants Holm  and  Garde  began  to  explore  the  east  coast 
of  Greenland,  the  discovery  of  the  outline  of  which  was 
completed  in  1879.  In  the  summer  of  that  year  Captain 
Mourier,  of  the  Danish  man  of  war  "Ingulf,"  sighted  the 
coast  from  the  6th  to  the  10th  of  July,  and  was  enabled 
to  observe  and  delineate  it  from  68°  IQ'  N.  to  65°  55'  N., 
being  exactly   the   gap   left   between  the  discoveries  of 


Scoresby  in  1822  and  those  of  Graah  in  1829.  Lieu- 
tenant Hovgaard  of  the  Danish  navy,  who  accompanied 
Nordenskiold  in  his  discovery  of  the  north-east  passage, 
planned  an  expedition  to  ascertain  if  land  existed  to  the 
north  of  Cape  "Tchelyuskin.  He  fitted  out  a  small  steamer 
called  the  "Dymphna"  and  sailed  from  Copenhagen  in 
July  1882,  but  was  unfortunately  beset  and  obliged  to 
winter  in  the  Kara  Sea.  In  1883  Baron  Nordenskiold 
undertook  another  journey  over  the  inland  ice  of  Green-i 
land.  Starting  from  Auleitsivikfjord  on  •  4th  July,  his 
party  penetrated  84  miles  eastward,  and  to  an  altitude  of 
5000  feet.  The  Laplanders  who  were  of  the  party  were 
sent  on  snow-shoes  143  miles  further,  travelling  over  a 
desert  of  snow  to  a  height  of  7000  feet.  Results  ir 
physical  geography  and  biology  were  obtained  which  ■ail) 
render  this  unparalleled  journey  memorable. 

On  September  18,  1875,  Lieutenant  Weyprecht,  one  of 
the  discovers  of  Franz-Josef  Land,  read  a  thoughtful  and 
carefully  prepared  paper  before  a  large  meeting  of  German 
naturalists  at  Gratz  on  the  scientific  results  to  be  obtained 
from  polar  research  and  the  best  means  of  securing  them. 
He  urged  the  importance  of  establishing  a  number  of 
stations  within  or  near  the  Arctic  Circle,  in  order  to  record 
complete  series  of  synchronous  meteorological  and  magnetic 
observations.  Lieutenant  Weyprecht  did  not  live  to  see 
his  suggestions  carried  into  execution,  but  they  bore  fruit 
in  due  time.  The  various  nations  of  Europe  w'ere  repre- 
sented at  an  international  polar  conference  at  Hamburg  in 
1879,  and  at  another  at  St  Petersburg  in  1882;  and  it 
was  decided  that  each  nation  should  establish  one  or  more 
stations  where  synchronous  observations  should  be  taken 
from  August  1882.  This  useful  project  was  matured  a.ru^ 
executed.  The  stations  were  at  the  following  localitie* 
round  the  Arctic  Circle  : — 


Norwegians Bosrlop,  Altcn  Fjord,  Xorway, 

Swedes /re  Fjord,  Spitzbergen, 

Dutch  .....«„..«J>/rJt5on  Harbour,  mouth  of  Yenisei,  Sibei  ia 
P       .  _  1  &j(7(isfj/r/s/and,  mouth  of  Lena,  Siberia, 

Kussians j  Miner  Bay,  Nova  Zembla,         , 

.„    . (  Point  Barrow,  North  America, 

Amencans.....  -j  ^^^^  franUik  Ba:j,  iV  44"  N, 

English Great  S/ace  Late,  Dominion  of  Canada, 

Germans Cumberland  Bap.  west  side  of  Davis  Strait, 

I)ancs Oodthaab,  Greenland, 

Austrians Jan  Mayen,  North  Atlantic,  IV  N., 


M.  Alisel  S.  Ste*n. 
Mr  Ekiiolm. 
,Dr  Smaller. 
Lieut.  Jiirger.8, 
Licur.  Andreief. 
Lieut.  Ray,  U.S.A. 
Lieut,  Gicely.U.S.A. 
Lieut.  Dawson. 
Dr  Gicse. 
A.  Paul>en. 
Lieut.  Wohlgemuth. 

The  whole  scheme  was  successfully  accomplished  with 
the  exception  of  the  part  assigned  to  the  Dutch  at  Dickson 
Harbour.  They  started  in  the  "Varna"  but  were  beset 
in  the  Kara  Sea  and  obliged  to  winter  there  The 
"Varna"  was  lost,  and  the  crew  took  refuge  on  board 
Lieutenaut  Hovgaard's  vessel,  which  was  also  forced  to 
winter  in  the  pack  during  1882-83. 

The  American  stations  commenced  work  in  1882. 
Lieutenant  Greely's  party  consisted  of  two  other  lieu- 
tenants, of  twenty  sergeants  and  privates  of  the  United 
States  army,  and  of  Dr  Pavy,  an  enthusiastic  explorer  who 
had  been  educated  in  France,  and  had  passed  the  previous 
winter  among  the  Eskimo  of  Greenland.  On  August  II, 
1881,  the  steamer  "Proteus"  conveyed  Lieutenant  Greely 
and  his  party  to  Lady  Franklin  Bay  during  an  exception- 
ally favourable  season  ;  a  house  was  built  at  the  "  Dis- 
covery's" winter-quarters,  and  they  were  left  with  two 
years'  provisions.  The  regular  series  of  observations  was 
at  once  commenced,  and  two  winters  were  passed  without 
accident.  Travelling  parties  were  also  sent  out  in  the 
summer,  dogs  having  been  obtained  at  Disco.  lieutenant 
Lockwood  made  a  journey  along  the  north  coast  of  Green- 
land, and  reached  a  small  island  in  83°  24'  N.  and  44 ' 
5'  W.  •  Dr  Pavy  and  another  went  a  short  distance  beyond 
the  winter-quarters  of  the  "Alert,"  and  a  trip  was  made 
into  the  interior  of  Grinnell  Land.  But  all  this  region 
had  already  been  explored  and  exhaustively  examined  by 
the  English  expedition  in   1875-76.     The  real  value  of 


f. 

1 


i 


POLAR     REGIONS 


;r27 


thij  work  of  Lieutenant  Groely's  party  will  consist  in  the 
sjiu'lironousobsorvalioiis  taken  during  1882.  A^no  succour 
arrived  in  the  summer  of  1883 — though  relieving  vessels 
were  despatched  both  in  1882  and  in  1883 — Lieutenant 
Greely  started  from  Lady  Franklin  Bay  with  Lis  men  on  tho 
9th  August,  expecting  to  find  a  vessel  in  Smith  Sound.  On 
the  21st  October  they  were  obliged  to  encamp  at  Cape 
Sabine,  on  the  western  shore  of  Smith  Sound,  and  build  a 
hut  for  wintering.  A  few  depots  were  found,  which  had 
boon  left  by  Sir  George  Nares  and  Lieutenant  Beebe,  but 
all  was  exhausted  before  the  spring.  Then  came  a  time 
of  indescribable  misery  and  acute  suffering.  The  poor 
fellows  began  to  die  of  actual  starvation ;  and,  when  the 
relieving  steamers  "Thetis"  and  "Bear"  reached  Cape 
Sabine,  Lieutenant  Greely  and  six  suffering  companions 
■were  found  just  alive.  If  the  simple  and  necessary 
precaution  had  been  taken  of  stationing  a  depot  ship 
in  a  good  harbour  at  the  entrance  of  Smith  Sound,  in 
annual  communication  with  Greely  on  one  side  and  with 
America  on  the  other,  there  would  have  been  no  disaster. 
If  precautions  proved  to  be  necessary  by  experience  are 
taken,  there  is  no  undue  risk  or  danger  in  polar  .enterprise. 

There  is  now  no  question  as  to  the  value  and  importance 
of  polar  discovery,  and  as  to  the  principles  on  which 
expeditions  should  be  sent  out.  Their  objects  are  explora- 
tion for  scientific  purposes  and  the  encouragement  of 
maritime  enterprise.  The  main  principles  have  been 
briefly  and  clearly  stated  by  Lieutenant  Weyprecht  :-^-(l) 
arctic  research  is  of  the  highest  importance  for  a  know- 
ledge of  nature's  laws ;  (2)  geographical  research  is  valu-. 
able  in  proportion  as  it  opens  the  field  to  scientific  research 
generally ;  (3)  the  north  pole  has,  for  science,  no  greater 
significance  than  any  other  point  in  the  higher  latitudes. 
Lieutenant  Weyprccht  thus  contends,  as  the  council  of  the 
Royal  Geographical  Society  has  contended  for  years,  that 
tho  attainment  of  the  highest  possible  latitude  or  of  the 
pole  itself  is  not.  the  object  to  be  sought,  but  the  explora- 
tion of  tho  unknovjn  area  with  a  view  to  scientific  results. 

In  planning  a  new  polar  expedition  on  an  adequate 
'scale  it  will  be  necessary  to  profit  by  the  lessons  of  experi- 
.ence.  This  experience  may  be  summed  up  in  a  few  words. 
Any  advanced  ship  or  party  must  have  a  depot  shij)  to 
fall  back  upon  which  is  within  reach,  and  also  in  com- 
munication with  the  outer  world.  This  makes  disaster  on 
a  large  scale,  humanly  speaking,  impossible.  Every 
precaution  that  medical  science  can  suggest  must  bo 
iaken  against  scurvy.  An  advancing  expedition  must 
always  follow  a  coast  line,  because  an  entry  into  the  drift- 
ing pack  entails  failure  and  probably  loss  of  the  ship. 
The  coast-line  should  trend  north  with  a  westerly  aspect, 
because  a  general  motion  .of  the  sea  towards  the  west 
causes  the  ice  to  set  in  that  direction,  unless  deflected  from 
purely  local  causes.  Hence  there  arc  usually  open  lanes 
of  water  along  the  west  sides  of  polar  lands  at  some  time 
of  tho  navigable  season,  while  the  eastern  sides  are 
usually  closed  with  ice.  These  well-established  canons 
point  to  the  western  side  of  Franz-Josef  Land  as  the  next 
region  to  be  explored. 

Fli'isir.ul  Geography  of  Ihe  NorCh  Polar  R:gi'm. — Our  iKnoranoo 
of  about  3,000,000  squnro  miles  within  tlio  north  polar  circle, 
out  of  a  total  area  of  of  8,201,883,  debars  us  from  the  possibility  of 
considering  tin  physical  pcognphy  of  the  polar  region  aa  a  whole. 
Wo  can  merely  take  stock  of  the  iiioUtod  facts  which  our  limited 
knowledge  enables  us  to  register. 

As  tho  physical  condition  of  the  whole  area  is  mainly  nfTocted  by 
tho  movenicHts  and  positions  of  the  ico  masses,  the  temperature, 
and  tho  circumstances  which  affect  it,  become  tlic  Jjrst  and  most 
fundamental  elements  for  consideration.  An  examination  of  Dove's 
isothermal  charts  shows  that  tho  isotherms  about  the  polo  fonn 
ellipses  ti'nding  to  arrange  themselves  betwaon  two  poles  of  cold, 
ono  in  North  America  and  the  other  in  eastern  Siberia.  The 
mildest  winters  appear  to  bo  in  tho  meridians  of  Behring  Strait 
and  tho  Spitzbergon  seas.     These  temperatures  appear  to  be  mainly 


influenced  by  the  extent  of  frozen  land  or  fixed  ico  on  tlie  one  h.-inj 
and  the  neighbourhood  of  open  water  and  moving  ico  on  the  other. 
The  following  table  sliows  tlie  mean  temperatures  for  the  summer 
mouths,  winter  montlis,  and  whole  year,  at  various  stations  in  tho 
ardiipelago  north  of  the  Ameiican  contiueut : — 


Eipedition. 

Loculity. 

Latitude  and 
Luntiitude. 

Thrco 
BummiT 
ftjontlis. 

Thit!c 

WUiti-i'    Vcor. 
Mouths 

MClure 

l'«'ry 

Stitberland.. 

ni;lcher 

Piuiy 

Banks  Islond  

Melville  Island 

74    ON.  IISW. 
74  2.'.  N.   Ill  W. 
74  45X.     04  W. 
77    0  N.    517  \y. 
73  2SN.    eOW. 

• 
4-30 
-HS7 
+:>c 

+  30-8 
-t-30-9 

•           • 

-  0-7  -l-l-R 
-lOO     +1-4 

-  sr,    +■.'•.-, 

—IIS     -11 

-  c-7     -I-4:! 

Xorthuinberltttid  Sound 

At  the  Great  Slave  Lake  in  North  America,  Sir  John  liiehardson 
found  the  mean  of  the  tluee  summer  nioutlis  to  be  -1-49°,  of  the 
three  winter  months  -0°"8,  and  of  the  year  -t-9°.  On  the  west 
coast  of  Greenland  the  climate  of  the  .southernmost  part  resembles 
that  of  Iceland  or  the  northern  shores  of  Norway.  It  exhibits 
a  gradually  decreasing  temperature  throughout  the  whole  of  its 
extent  to  the  north.  Tlie  annual  mean  temperature  at  tlie  soutli- 
ernmost  station  of  Julianshaab  is  +33°,  and  at  Iho  northernmost 
of  Upernivik  + 13°.  The  mean  temperature  of  the  three  summer 
months  for  Julianshaab  is  -f48"andfor  Upernivik  -f  48°;  for  tho 
three  winter  months  respectively  4-20°  and  -7°.  The  lowest 
temperature  ever  known  at  the  Danish  Greenland  stations  occurred 
at  Upernivik  and  was  -  47°.  Fartlier  north  on  the  west  coast  the 
"North  Star,"  in  1851-52,  observed  the  temperature  for  the  year 
in  Wolstenholme  Sound  (lat  76°  30'  N.).  For  the  three  summer 
months  the  mean  was  -t-S7°'8,  for  the  winter  months  -6°'8,  and 
fur  the  year  -)-4°'5.  The  most  northern  observations  ever  taken 
for  a  complete  year  were  those  of  H.M.S.  "Alert,"  at  Floeberg 
Beach  in  82°  27'  N.  Synchronous  observations  were  taken  by 
H.M.S.  "Discovery,"  in  Lady  Franklin  Bay,  lat.  81'  44'  N.  Tlie 
results  were  as  follows : — 


Ship. 

Latitude. 

Summer. 

Winter. 

Year. 

"Alert" 

82  27  N. 
81  44  N. 

■1-34 
+  33 

-36 
-37 

• 

-8 
-4 

"  Discovery" 

The  minimum  temperatriTcs  were  -73°,  registered  at  Floeberg 
lieach  in  March,  and  -  7U°,  at  Lady  Franklin  Bay  in  the  same 
month.  These  temperatures  can  be  compared  with  the  observations 
taken  at  Mossel  Bay,  on  the  north  coast  of  SpitEbergen,  by  Nor- 
dfenskibld  (lat  79°  54'  N.),  and  on  the  south  coast  of  Franz-Josef 
Land  by  Weyprecht  and  Leigh  Smith.  At  these  stations  the 
winters  are  Ices  severe  on  account  of  the  closer  proNimity  of  open 
Water.  In  Franz-Josef  Land  the  minimum  in  tne  winter  months 
was  -43°,  and  the  mean  was  -26°;  in  May  the  mean  was  ■f22°. 
The  climate  on  the  coast  of  Siberia  was  registered  at  the  winter 
quarters  of  the  "  Vega"  in  67°  7'  N.,  tlie  mean  temperature  of  the 
three  winter  months  being  -  10°,  minimum  -  51°,  and  the  mean  of 
the  three  summer  months  -f36°;  but  the  Siberian  cold  is  far  more 
intense  iiilaml. 

Tho  direction  of  the-  winds  allects  the  temperatures  and  the 
movements  of  ice,  but  no  general  remarks  upon  lliem  can  be 
usefully  made  until  our  knowledge  of  tho  polar  area  is  moro 
complete.  One  of  tho  most  interesting  features  in  polar  winds  is 
the  instability  of  tho  temperature  caused  by  them  over  certain 
areas  during  tlio  winter  months.  At  Jacobshavn,  in  Greenland, 
tho  mean  temperature  in  February  was  -1-10°  in  ono  year  (1872), 
and  -25°  in  another  (1863),  a  dillcrenco  of  41°.  It  was  remarked 
that  great  rises  in  the  winter  temperatures  ocourred  at  a  titne  when 
tlie  wind  was  blowing  from  the  interior  glacier.  Thin  wind  often 
turns  into  a  sudden  gale.  Greenland  is  surrounded  by  regions 
which  have  extremely  difTcront  winter  temperatures.  While  on 
one  side  there  is  the  intense  enl  I  of  Arctic  America  and  the  Pany 
l.slands,  on  the  other,  to  the  east  south-east,  there  is  tho  warm 
temperature  caused  by  the  Gulf  Strenni ;  ro  that  the  Greenland 
climate  is  at  all  tiuiea  dependent  on  the  direction  of  tho  winds. 
All  winds  from  south  through  west  to  north-west  bring  cold 
«voathor,  but  tho  oast  and  south-east  winds  raise  the  temperature. 
Tho  hot  south-east  winds  of  Greenland  nie  caused  in  the  Fame  way 
as  the  "  fohn  "  of  the  Alps.  The  iiiteri"r  glacier  of  Grccnlniid  rises 
to  a  height  of  at  least  7000  feet.  A  warm  wind  from  the  Atlantic 
saturateil  with  moisture  could  afford  to  lose  considerably  by  cooling 
oil  its  journey  of  400  miles  over  the  lofty  ice  deserts  of  Greenland, 
and  yet  arrive  on  the  west  cuast  with  a  comparatively  high 
temperature.  Tho  inlluence  of  tho  Greenland  fi>hns  extends  over 
a  wide  area.  In  1875  there  was  a  great  riso  of  tempernture  at  the 
Danish  statior.s  of  Greenland ;  nml  .Sir  George  Nares  obscrveil  tho 
same  phenomenon,  at  nearly  the  same  time,  at  his  winter  quarters 
in  82°  17'  N.  In  Franz-Josef  Land  there  are  also  great  rises  of 
temperature  during  the  winter,  with  southerly  winds  accomjiameJ 


328 


by  heavy  falls  of  snow,  as  these  winds  come  direct  from  prn,no.= 
of  open  M'ater  caused  by  the  current  fron,  the  Atlantic  ^ 

bea  water,  in  the  process  of  congelation   exnels  th«.!;ilf   =n,)  -f 
freezing  noint  iq  ahnnt-  OS-      ti      •       „    . '      i"-'' '■''"  s"'*,  and  its 

made  by  Sir  George  Nares  in  82°  17^  TJ         ti       ''  "f  observations 
land  and  bv  Cantfin    #Ifi  "  ,^-  ^  *^  ^'^^'  «"•«  "f  Green- 

identfcat  naSy  6fee^f  Ss°°  "jf^-^  side  in  74"  30'  N.  were 

thickerikasecoLwTnter   and  even  I    ''?/•         f^'-'^  *°  ^'"""' 
PpBt-      T„  ♦!,«       1     "'"'■''A>  3°a  even  to  attain  a  thicltness  of  10 

hick   but  thpf    °"/l""  ''"  '^"'  ''"'  fl™^  f'-o-n  80  to  100  feet 

by  a'cumni*  o"sT snol'^r'fh"'  "''"  ''^  f  a-glaciers.rrnied 

smaller  pieces  broken  frlm^l^e^   7"'   ^l"  ""''  ^'^^  =   ^""l  ">« 

pieces.      The  FranrjotfT»„/  ^     •  "■'  '^''^^I'a'-g'ng  smaller  herg 
Lbergs   which^rn^Xw^ifcTouttd^s ''''"  ^^"""^^^ 

of  It  aT;:rv:?sVh  eL':rf  :irt:rtirflrwir^^^^^^  *";  <=--'= 

ice-laden  counter-currente  whkh  prei  Xo.ih"''''''"''^.''  ^"'^  ''^ 
channel  in  the  opposite  direction  On  tl,«  f  ^  ^77  ",'""  ^"'i 
the  northern  shores  of  Ad,  ,n^  a  •  ^  '^"."^^  "^  ^^'"^  forming 
great  rivers  Of  tL  «7k  ^  America  are  the  mouths  of  several 
frtTsh,"has-  a  ^basiu'  cove'ns  cToOO*'''  '''''  ^'^^  '*^  affluent  the 
60,000,  and  the  Lena  40  000^  wT  '^""■'  '"'^'''  '^«  Yenisei 
wiihin   the    emperate  zone  '    Tn    f''^^''^?  ^''^  "l-nost  entirely 

from  the  Pacific  stTir  there  i,,"  *"  *'^°"'  "^  ""^  '"g«  "ow 
heavy  ice  at  soi^ie  d lUnce  ,'/  ^'''S  ""'"°'  ^^'^''^'^  '^'^^P'  *''« 
being  felt  beyond  Pc^ntBarrow  Th°  v"''  '^'''""'y-  ^'^  '"«"^"=« 
consfdered  t^  be  a  contl^"  ."on  o^thf  Gu'lfs^re"""''  "^"^"^ 

the'  winter.  ThettcurrenA  fln  'fi^'"  that  shore  throughout 
the  two  great  openrn'  b^aWs  StTa  r/n/Af'''  '°  «>«  directfon  of 
of  Greenland  b  it  the  wlmlp  hln  ^  ^^^  ^""^  °^  the  east  coast 

southwards  bV    be  former  outler^-Fh"'  '^^'"^'"^"•V  *«  find  its  way 

polar  current  K„«,w:,ttZlh^  '^'"'""^^ 

among  the  Parrv  Archineh,  Jn   o^^Ti?       ,  T'  '^''^""'^•s  aid  straits 

down^Baffin-s  Sy  and  Cl  S?ra1t      °"°  '  ^"'^  '"^  ^''^'  ^''''- 

i^^'^^i:::!^Ti:±rx  *°  'Vr  "^'"-"  *'>^' 

and  that,  in  one  part  of  rbe  n^l»,  ^-  '^  ='''''''  harvests  of  ice, 
and  form'  sea  borne  glaciers  ^  Co  1  rfon";,?'  '""'iT-'  '?  ^^'^"'"'"ate 
the  coast  of  I^orth  Amerta  ir.;.?"  "'f'^^'^.'^'^  formation  off 
coast  of  Banks  Island  wile  irCHl"tr/°""^  ',  ^[""S  '^'  «•"' 
«long  the  western  side  of  p':  Le' P  rtk ' sfand  ""''tT  'T'  '^ 
tha  £oe3  reaembles  rolling  hills,  some   f  t    ra-hund'^^dTLlTo^' 


POLAR     REGIONS 


^^^fTr/;^!^  -  i-:^:'; -^^e  centuries  old,  ond  iVo. 
d-'giee.  The  accumula  ed  acti^„  If  '"  thickness  to  an  unlimited 
snow  on  the  upper  surface ;ivP,;^  '?•'"''',''  "'^'"^  and  falls  of 

ance  »  The  iime  ce  was^ibuiu  bv^^'"''"  '''"  ?'^  ''='''=  ap,.ear- 
northern  coast  of  Grant  lL,1  nil  r^  ^T'^  expedition  along  the 
A  branch  from  U  flows  do  '"^^0^'""^  «°.  '^  ^^O  feet  thick. 
Gunnel  until  it  impinges  nontbl""'  ^l'""'  ^""^  "'Clintock 
William  Island.  This  is^wb,Tp^  r  """''•"■est  coast  of  King 
barrier  placed  in  til  '0  it/bv  Z'' M?"^  .'°"  ''"'  ""«"'^« 
meeting  of  the  Atlantic  ^ndraeific^ide3"^  "''"'  '""''^  ^^ '^' 

.eo.ogite^,:?rr  ir  ^G.';e';l\7  '^"'^''  """•--''  ''y  ^''- 

gneiss,  mica  schist,  hornblende  soW  """^^  """^-''^  "*'"'y  °'i 
granite  veins.     In  this  formaHnn  '   ?"■?   '>■""'«   Pierced   by 

natives  to  make  lamps  the  cr™!,.?  Tf-  ""  ''"'''"'^  "^^'^  ^y'^'^ 
the  plumbago  at  Upe;nivlk  ^Knltl  ^^^^t"''-^  "'^  south,  and 
extends  across  the  Nou  solk  „en^,?„  '  "^'^^t^.^'  ^  ""^^  "^  basalt 
an  area  of  about  70orsQuare^rnTl.=  /"''■^'''°  ^'^''"<^-  ^^cring 
feet.  With  these  trap  rocks  a;/"*^  ''=•'"«  to  a  height  of  600O 
Cretaceous  beds.  The  CreLceol  rnVT"^'''^,  ""  *''°"'^«  and 
Omenak-fjord  in  7o"n  wbiir^i,  m'  ''"'  °"'y  '"=""  fo"""!  i"  the 
to  the  shores  of  the  wii^at  St if/^.''"'  ^"Ji^-ation  is  confined 
land,  underlying  the  tral,  Co!  v'^f '"'°  ^'''°  and  the  main- 
along  the  shore  and  vcrv  fnter^  f-  "^'  TP'"  '"  «''»<"■»'  P'aces 
been  discovered.  At  thJ  te,r,?n»r  "  'TT'.,"!  ^°'''^  plants 'have 
compact  red  sandstone  is  fZdP  "i  ealliko-fjoid  in  61°  N.  a 
coast  ..re  Oolitic      But  with  tit.,  "-^  ''^"''^  ""^  *>>«  ^ast 

Greenland  is  granitic  or  g-eisso  Th'''"°"'  •''"  "l'"'-'^  -"a.s  of 
Bay  is  of  the  lame  charlcter  «  wMI  I  "fP"",'^  ''''^  °^  ^^affin-s 
The  Parry  Islandsare  partlv  Sib,,  ^5  ^'"'',  "^'^  "^  ^"^^1  Sound, 

period.  ^The  eas  ern  Pa  ^in  umn/xo.^f's ^'  °^ "''  Carbonife^us 
Wales  Land  (except  ^the  sWes  of  Ppls^°"n''' ?'"  P'""=«  «' 
Is  and  are  of  Silurian   f^r^i-  -V^^l  ^°""''    and  Cornwallis 

Wenlock  and  Dud iTgroups  Th;:'f''  ^"'fj'^'  ^l^-alents  to  the 
from  Boothia  Felk  and^  K,^,;  iv  1  '^"'■"',ation  extends  westward 
Land  and  thLouthern  haff  of  R  nl  T,'"'.'"''^,?""  P"""  ^'bert 
of  Bathui^t,  riX  and  &  P  ".''•■,  ^^^°"^''^™'>alves 
northern  half  of  Banks'lsLnd  ll^  t  ^r^"'^  '''""''^'  and  the 
stones  with  beds  of  coa  while  rr'  "fLojver  Carboniferous  sand- 
halves  of  Bathui^  ,  M  Ivm  and  Pr Le'"p  ^  "J^  ""■"'en, 
Carboniferous  limestone  Ti,=  T  ■,  /  '^  ^"''■"^'^  ^^'ands  are 
one  place  on  the  ealt  ide  oTpTK^TT''}'''^  ^'"'^  ''°"°d  at 
Sherard  Osborn  als?  found  tL^""?/'''"^'^  '^'and  if  76°  20'  N, 
sa^^rus)  at  the  no?  h  west  ex tremroTp  ^1°^  ^^"f  ^^""^"  (^^«> 
the  Lower  and  MiddirOoIUic^r^od  "'''  ^''''"''  P'o^ably  ot 

gneiisr"^"g  to  tCts  0^2000  7  f  ^°^S-'">  Sound,  consists  of 
at  Fort  Foidke.  Farther  norJh  the  "'^  ""''"'"'^  *''"»"«  '<^^^ 
black  slates  having  a  vervh\th»  fa  <^°"t'"""  «ith  stratified 
33'  N.  these  slates  five  p  ace  to^a  ,p"v  "  ''°  ^""'''  '^'P"  ^°  82° 
to  elevations  of  2000  and  30oJ  feet  Sil  ^"ar  zites  and  gi-its  rising 
on  the  shores  of  Kennedy  Channel,,  n,r'^"  limestones  are  found 
land  side.  Carboniferou^  lim«t^  ^  ^^P'  ^^''°"  ""  ^he  Green- 
Grant  Land,  as  far  wes^a  c  e'  "'t "  m"'1  T  "i^  """^  '^"^^  »' 
height  of  2000  feet.  Lar  LarFr,  r"'r  '"'^''  "^'"^  *»  » 
deposit  of  coal  nf  ti,o  HI-  y  i'ranklin   Bay  in  81°  45'  N    a 

flo?a"ndVd  g°'th  rt/'sprc'sP:?"';™: ''''°'''''-  "'"^  ^  ^a 

elm,  and  haze!  The  whol,  nf  *f ■  P'a"to-pines,  birch,  poplar, 
Bay' is  slowly  risini  °^  ^^''  ^'"'^  '°  "'^  "orth  of  BaL'i 

pfm1tw'eTcks.^1>;°o;?he^r  Spitzr  ^'-, -"•P"-'^  -ainly  of 
6eds  with  a  fossil  flora  closelVaUied1^n.f"f  'r 7'  ."t"'^"  ^'-o'^"' 
and  some  fossils  of  the  L  as  wr  oj  '"rt  i^"^^  ,^'f "'"  ^^i'- 
Pranz.Josef  Land  and  SpTtzbe^e"  Lcl  ]f:iUe^''''T^^^'!l"  ?' 
nant  rock  ,s  dolerite,  a  kind  of  greenstone   ^      '"*•     ^^'  P'^'^"""- 

between  the"  "e  of  fofe's't'and'.\:  "l"'  Y'  "^  ^'^^  intervening 
the  great  rivers.  It  is  frozenlr  f  ^  "  '^?''''  ^'"^  intersected  by 
and^iere  the  r  ma  ns  of  n,amm'?r'''''  '''^Ptbs  below  the  surface, 
along  the  river  bankrLverer,:'ufd""BLrt"h  ^"'f'  '^"'^''P^ 
occurs  in  greatest  quantity  in  the  Ke»  «-i  ■  "•■  ^"^"^  '"""^ 
islands  also  occur  tie  "  wlL' hill^.^c:";'    n""„r.°"L„?.?  l*"- 


stone  beds  alTe'rnati;;  wTtTstrlta  of  b"i?,t""^  "°f  "'■"'"^°°'»'  ^"■ 
on  each  other  to  the  top  of  the  ML  ^AZn".°f  ^'T.l'T-'-  ^'""^^ 
are  also  found  there  'Ammonites  of  the  Lias  period 

ArcHc*c1rc';e1".owi?he?a;f;i,l'°"l"J^r.--^-  *°  ''"^ 
occur  in  the 'south  Tf  Greenland  ^t?"f),'''™^^'['■"S  '"'"^'^ 
willow  alone  forms  wood  t"  ere  are  762  fli  '"""V  "j'  "''iP'"^ 
cryptogams  within  the  Arcf,vp;f„?      '^f  lowering  pfants,  and  925 

Lfp'lan'd  contain  by  fir  the  chest  arctic  n"^  '  '°'''  "^■^'^'^  P'^"*^' 
fourths  of  the  whole,  whle  three  fifthf'r  fl""'  amounting  to  three- 

A.ia  and  America  alse  b  on^to  Snd  I?  h"''/"""''  "'  '^^'"'= 
district  616  flowerin"  r,Un"^h,L^^  ,,  '","''=  European  arctic 
in  Arctic  Ame  id  east«aH  „A.  vf "  ,'=°"'=?'«d.  in  Arctic  .4si.  233. 
that  river  364  an rllnr  f  the  Mackenzie  379,  and  westward  of 
river  364,  and  in  Greecland  207.     The  most  arctic  plants  of 


1^  O  L  A  E      REGIONS 


329 


general  distribation,  which  are  found  far  north  in  all  the  arctic 
areas,  are  tI<roe  species  of  Hanunciiliis,  a  lioppy  (I'npnrcr  nudicnvh), 
tie  Draha  alpina  aud  five  other  species,  the  Brnya  nljiiiin,  lady's- 
smock  (Cardainine  prateiisis),  eiglit  species  of  saxifnige.  two  of 
■Potenlilla,  two  o{  Arciiaria,  the  moss  camjiion  {Silciic  nuaiilis),  the 
dandelion,  a  SMlaria,  the  Dryas  odopclala,  CcrasHhm  n/piniaii, 
Epilobium  latifolium,  crowberry,  dwarf  willow,  and  rushes  and 
grasses  of  the  genera  juncus,  Carect,  and  Poa. ,  The  most  ubiquitous 
of  all  is  the  Saxifraga  oppositifolia,  which  is  conbidered  the  com- 
monest and  most  arctic  of  the  flowerin"  plants. 

All  the  arctic  seas  team  with  the  lower  forms  of  animal  life. 
The  invertebrate  animals  have  been  enumerated  and  reported  upou 
in  full  detail  by  the  naturalists  to  whom  the  collections  of  the 
various  expeditions  have  been  entrusted.  The  fishes,  birds,  and 
mammals  of  the  north  polar  region  have  also  been  studied  and 
carefully  described  within  the  discovered  areas,  though  the  subject 
is  far  from  having  been  exhausted. 

The  human  race  is  found  to  exist  along  the  whole  fringe  of 
European,  Asiatic,  and  American  coast-line  within  the  Arctic  Circle, 
and  to  have  spread  up  the  shores  of  Boothia,  and  up  both  sides  of 
Davis  Strait  and  Baffin's  Bay.  Living  mainly  on  sea  animals,  the 
inhabitants  of  the  polar  regions  rarely  wander  from  the  coast. 
Spitzbergen,  Franz-Josef  Land,  and  Nova  Zenibla  are  uninhabited, 
except  that  occasional  summer  visits  are  made  to  the  southern 
shores  of  the  latter  group  of  isUnde.  The  Laps  are  the  denizens  of 
the  European  polar  regions,  and  the  Samoyeds  succeed  them  along 
the  shores  of  the  Kara  Sea  and  on  the  Yalmal  peninsula.  These 
Laps  and  Samoyeds  possess  herds  of  reindeer,  aud  during  the  winter 
they  withdraw  from  the  coast  In  Siberia  there  was  once  a  coast 
population,  but  it  has  retired  into  the  interior  or  died  out,  and 
inhabitants  are  not  met  with  until  the  encampments  of  the 
Tchuktches  are  reached,  from  the  Kolyma  to  Bebring  Strait.  A 
very  complete  account  of  this  interesting  people  has  been  given  bv 
Baron  Nordenskiold  in  his  narrative  of  the  voyage  of  the  Vega.'' 
The  Eskimo  race  extends  over  the  whole  of  Arctic  America  and 
along  the  Greenland  coasts,  the  warlike  Indian  tribes  preventing 
them  from  retreating  inland,  and  forcing  them  to  find  a  precarious 
living  or  starve  on  the  shores  of  the  polar  sea.  Differing  in  size 
and  physical  development,  the  individuals  of  the  different  tribes 
all  have  flat  broad  faces,  black  coarse  hair,  high  cheek  bones,  low 
foreheads,  short  flat  noses,  and  narrow  eyes  sloping  upwards  from 
the  nose.  Their  hands  and  feet  are  small.  Vast  tracts  of  country, 
including  the  archipelago  to  the  north  of  America,  are  not  inhabited, 
yet  there  are  traces  of  Eskimo  encampments  along  the  whole  line 
of  coast  from  Banks  Island  to  Baffin's  Bay.  This  may  have  been 
the  route  by  which  Greenland  was  first  peopled,  and  it  suggests  a 
continuation  of  land  along  the  same  parallel,  from  Banks  Island  to 
the  Siberian  coast.  Yet  it  may  be  that  the  wanderers  found  tbeir 
way  northwards  from  America  by  Prince  of  Wales  Strait.  The 
most  remarkable  tribe  is  that  named  Arctic  Highlanders  by  Sir 
John  Koss  in  1818,  and  they  are  the  most  northern  people  in  the 
world.  Their  stations  range  along  the  Greenland  coast  from  76° 
to  79°  N.,  a  deeply  indented  coast-line  of  gigantic  cliffs  broken  by 
deep  bays,  with  numerous  rocks  and  islands.  They  have  no 
cauoes,  but  dogs  and  good  sledges,  and  they  attack  the  walrus  at 
the  edge  of  the  ico  with  spears.  They  arc  separated  from  the 
Eskimo  of  Greenland  farther  stuth  by  the  glaciers  of  Mehdlle 
Bay.  In  Danish  Greenland  the  original  Eskimo  were  probably 
intermixed  in  blood  with  the  old  Norse  settlers,  and  since  the  time 
of  Hans  Egcde  the  number  of  half-breeds  has  increased.  In  1855 
the  half-breeds  were  calculated  at  30  per  cent,  of  the  inhabitants 
of  Greenland,  and  the  two  classes  have  since  blended  almost 
imperceptibly,  so  that  there  are  nOw  no  full-blooded  Eskimo. 
The  population  of  Danish  Greenland  in  1870  was  95S8,  distributed 
among  176  winter  stations.  There  are  a  few  scattered  families  on 
the  cast  coast  of  Greenland. 

South  Polar  Region. 

The  south  polar  region,  unliko  tho  northern  region,  is 
almost  covered  by  tho  ocean,  the  only  extensive  land  being 
far  to  the  south.  It  was  of  course  entirely  unknown  to 
the  ancients  and  to  tho  early  naTigators  of  modern  Europe, 
although  a  theory  prevailed  among  geographers  that  a 
great  continent  existed  round  the  south  pole,  the  "Terra 
Australis  Incognita."  Lope  Garcia  de  Castro,  tho  governor 
of  Peru,  sent  his  nephew  Alvaro  Mendafia  in  search  of  it, 
who  sailed  from  Callao  in  1567.  Another  expedition 
under  Pedro  Fernandez  de  Quiros  left  Callao  in  1605, 
and  discovered  land  in  April  1606,  which  he  called 
Australia  del  E.spiritu  Santo,  now  known  to  be  one  of  tho 
New  Hebrides  group.  These  were  the  first  regular  expedi- 
tions in  search  of  the  supposed  southern  continent. 

Tho  first  shii)  that  ever  aooroachcd  the  Antarctic  Circle 


was  one  of  a  fleet  wuich  sailed  from  Kotterdam  under  tho 
command  of  Jacob  Mabu  as  admiral  in  June  1598.  She 
was  called  the  "Good  jNews,''  a  yacht  of  150  tons,  with 
Dirk  Gerritz  as  her  captain.  She  was  separated  from  the 
rest  of  the  fleet  in  Magellan's  Strait  in  1599,  and  was 
carried  hy  tempestuous  weather  far  to  the  south,  discover- 
ing high  land  in  64°  S.  This  appears  to  have  been  the 
land  afterwards  named  the  South  Shetlands.  Gerritz  and 
his  crew  were  eventually  captured  by  the  Spaniards  at 
Valparaiso.  In  1671  La  Roche  discovered  South  Georgia, 
a  solitary  island  in  the  South  Atlantic,  but  north  even  of 
the  latitude  of  Cape  Horn.  AVhero  so  little  is  known, 
and  where  there'  is  so  little  land,  the  discoveries  within  a 
few  hundred  miles  of  the  Antarctic  Circle  come  to  be 
spoken  of  as  south  polar.  In  this  category  is  Kerguelen 
Island  in  48°  41'  S.,  as  it  is  at  least  a  good  base  whence 
south  polar  discovery  may  start,  though  its  latitude  in  the 
southern  is  almost  the  same  as  England  in  the  northern 
hemisphere,  on  a  meridian  nearly  half  way  between  the 
Cape  and  Australia.  Its  discovery  is  due  to  the  gallant 
but  unfortunate  Frenchman  whose  name  it  bears,  Yves  J. 
Kerguelen.  He  sighted  it  on  January  17,  177?,  on  the 
same  day  that  his  countryman  Marion  discovered  the 
island  named  after  himself,  on  a  meridian  nearer  the  Cape. 
Captain  Cook,  in  his  third  voyege,  visited  Kerguelen 
Island,  and  Robert  Rhodes  in  1799  mapped  a  considerable 
portion  of  its  coast.  The  Sandwich  group,  south-east  of 
South  Georgia,  was  discovered  in  1762. 

Captain  Cook  in  January  1773  sailed  southwards  from 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  in  the  "  Resolution "  with  the 
"Adventure"  in  company,  and,  after  passing  much  ice, 
crossed  the  Antarctic  Circle  on  the  17th,  in  longitude 
39°  35'  E.  In  the  same  afternoon  they  sighted  thirty-eight 
icebergs  to  the  southward  besides  much  loose  ice  ;  and  in 
67°  15'  their  progress  was  stopped.  Cook  did  not  think 
it  prudent  to  persevere  in  getting  farther  south,  and  bore 
up  for  New  Zealand.  In  December  1773  another  attempt 
was  made  to  discover  the  supposed  southern  continent,  by 
steering  southwards  from  New  Zealand.  On  the  20th 
Cook  again  crossed  the  Antarctic  Circle  in  147°  46  W., 
and  came  amongst  a  cluster  of  very  large  icebergs  with 
loose  ice  in  67°  5'  S.  He  got  clear  of  them  and  after 
standing  farther  east  ho  reached  a  latitude  of  69°  45'  S. 
in  108°  5'  VV.,  and  still  shaping  a  southerly  course  he 
reached  70°  23'  S.  on  January  29,  1774.  Next  day  he 
came  to  icebergs  forming  an  impenetrable  barrier.  He 
counted  ninety-seven,  which  looked  like  a  range  of  moun- 
tains, with  closely  packed  ice'  round  them.  Cook's 
farthest  point  was  in  71°  15'  S.  on  tho  meridian  of 
106°  54'  W.  Captain  Cook  discovered  islands  in  53° 
to  54°  30'  S.  in  January  1775,  which  ho  named  Sandwich, 
Willis,  Pickersgill,  and  Georgia  Isles,  in  about  32°  W.  In 
27°  45'.  W.  he  reached  land  which  he  named  tho  Southern 
Thule,  because  it  was  the  most  southern  land  that  had 
ever  yot  been  discovered.  It  is  in  59°  13'  S.  In  the 
South  Atlantic  ico  was  met  with  as  far  north  as  51°.  In 
this  second  voyage  Captain  Cook  made  the  circuit  of  the 
southern  ocean'  in  a  high  latitudq,  twice  cro.ssing  tho 
Antarctic  Circle.  Ho  established  tho  fact  that,  if  there' 
was  any  extensive  south  polar  land,  it  must  be  south  of 
the  parallels  along  which  he  sailed.  Tho  Russian  expedi- 
tion under  Bellingshausen  in  1820  also  sailed  over  a  greatj 
many  degrees  of  longitude  in  a  high  latitude,  but  only 
discovered  two  islet.s,  I'ctra  and  Alexander.  These  islands 
were  farther  south  than  any  land  then  known. 

Auckland  Island  was  discovered  by  Captain  Rristow  in 
1806,  and  Campbell  Island  by  Uazleburgh  in  1810,  both 
south  of  New  Zealand,  but  far  to  tho  north  of  tho  Antarc- 
tic Circle.  In  1818  Mr  William  Smith  of  Blyth  redis- 
covered the  land  known  as  South  Shetland.     His  work 

XIX.  —  4» 


:.-30 


P  0  L  — P  0  L 


was  confirmed  by  ^Ir  Bransfield,  the  master  of  H.  M.S. 
"  Andromache,"  flag-ship  on  .the  west  coast  of  South 
America,  who  further  discovered  another  portion  named 
Bransfield  Land.  Further  coast-line  was  sighted  by  the 
French  expedition  under  Duraont  d'Urville  in  1838,  who 
named  it  Prince  de  Joinville  and  Louis  Philippe  Land. 

The  South  Orkneys  were  discovered  by  Captain  George 
Powell,  in  the  sloop  "Dove,"  on  October  6,  1821.  Mr 
Weddell,  RN.,  with  the  sailing  vessels  "  Jane "  and 
"  Beaufoy,"  penetrated  as  far  south  as  74°  15'  S.  on  the 
20th  February  1823. 

In  the  early  part  of  this  century  Messrs  Enderty  hegan  to  send 
vessels  to  the  Antarctic  regions  for  the  whale  fishery,  which  made 
several  discoveries.  The  brig  "Tula"  of  148  tons  and  cutter 
"  Lively "  left  London  in  July  1830  under  the  command  of  Mr 
John  Kscoe,  R.N.,  on  a  sealing  voyage,  but  with  special  instruc- 
tions to  endeavour  to  make  discoveries  in  high  southern  latitudes. 
In  February  1831  land  was  discovered  in  longitude  47°  20'  E.  and 
latitude  65°  57'  S.,  whicli  Biscoe  named  Enderby  Land,  in  honour 
of  his  employers.  He  did  not,  however,  get  nearer  to  it  than  20 
or  30  miles.  In  February  1S31  Biscoe  again  discovered  land  in 
67°  1'  S.  lat.  and  71°  W.  long.,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of 
Adelaide  Island.  It  proved  to  be  the  westernmost  of  a  chain  of 
islands  fronting  a  high  continuous  coast,  since  called  Graham's 
Land.  A  few  days  afterwards  Captain  Biscoe  succeeded  in  landing 
on  Adelaide  Island.  In  1833  Captain  Kemp,  in  the  sealing  schooner 
"  Magpie, "  discovered  another  point  of  the  land  to  the  eastward, 
which  doubtless  forms  part  of  Enderby  Land. 

Messrs  Enderby  sent  out  another  expedition  of  discovery  in  1838, 
consisting  of  t)i6  "Eliza  Scott"  of  154  tons,  commanded  by  Mr 
John  Balleuy,  and  the  "  Sabrina "  cutter  of  64  tons,  under  Mr 
Freeman.  In  February  1839,  when  on  about  the  163d  E.  meridian, 
they  sighted  high  land  in  66°  30'  S.  On  the  12th,  Captain  Free- 
man managed  to  get  on  shore,  but  the  clilfs  were  perpendicular, 
and  the  valleys  were  filled  ivith  ice.  The  discovery  proved  to  be 
a  group  of  volcanic  islands,  one  of  them  rising  to  a  beautiful  peak 
estimated  at  12,000  feet  above  the  sea,  named  Freeman  Peak. 
Sabrina  Island  was  discovered  in  March  1839.  The  other  group 
received  the  name  of  the  Balleny  Islands.  The  Auckland  Islands 
were  ceded  to  Messrs  Enderby  in  .1849,  and  a  whaling  establish- 
ment was  formed  there  under  good  auspices. 

In  1839  the  French  expedition  under  Dumont  d'Urville  pro- 
ceeded south  from  Tasmania  and  discovered  two  small  islands  on 
the  Antarctic  Circle  named  "  Terre  Adelie"  and  "Cote  Clarie." 
At  the  same  time  Commander  Wilkes  of  the  United  States  expedi- 
tion made  a  cruise  to  the  southward  and  mapped  a  large  tract  of 
land  in  the  latitude  of  the  Antarctic  Circle  for  which  he  claimed  the 
discovery.  But  as  a  portion  of  it  had  already  been  seen  by  Balleny, 
and  the  rest  has  since  been  uroved  not  to  exist,  the  claim  has  not 
been  admitted. 

The  English  Antarctic  Expedition  of  1839-43  was  undertaken 
mainly  with  a  view  to  magnetic  observations,  and  the  determination 
of  the  position  of  the  south  magnetic  pole.  Two  old  bomb  vessels, 
the  "  E>-ebus  "  am'  "  Terror,"  were  fitted  out  under  the  command 
of  Captain  (afterwards  Sir  James)  Koss,  with  Captain  Crozier  in 
the  "Terror."  Dr  Joseph  D.  Hooker  accompanied  the  expedition 
as  naturalist.  Leaving  Chatham  in  September  1839,  the  two 
vessels  first  proceeded  to  the  Cape,  and  went  thence  southwards  to 
Kerguelen  Island,  which  was  reached  in  May  1840,  and  carefully 
surveyed.  In  August  Sir  James  Koss  established  a  magnetic 
observatory  at  Hobart  Town.  The  cruise  for  the  second  season 
was  commenced  from  Tasmania  in  November  1840.  The  Auckland 
Islands  and  Campbell  Island  were  first  visited  and  surveyed,  and 
on  New  Year's  Day  1841  the  Antarctic  Circle  was  crossed  in  about 
172°  E.  A  few  days  afterwards  the  two  vessels  were  beset  in  the 
pack  and  began  perscveringly  boring  through  it.  By  January  10th 
they  succeeded  and  were  clear  of  ice  in  70°  23*  S.,  and  next  day 
land  was  sighted,  rising  in  lofty  peaks  and  covered  with  perennial 
snow.  That  day  Eoss  passed  the  highest  latitude  reached  by  Cook 
(71°  15'  S. ).  On  a  nearer  approach  to  the  laud,  there  was  a  clear 
view  of  the  chain  of  mountains  with  peaks  rising  to  10,000  feet, 
and  glaciers  filling  the  intervening  valleys  and  projecting  into  the 
sea.  The  south  magnetic  pole  was  calculated  to  be  in  76°  S.  and 
145°  20'  E. ,  or  about  500  miles  south-west  from  the  ship's  position. 
The  land  interposed  an  insuperable  obstacle  to  any  nearer  approach 


to  it.  C.iptain  Ross  landed  with  great  difficulty,  owing  to  the 
strong  tide  and  drifting  ice,  on  a  small  island  near  the  shore,  named 
Possession  Island,  in  71°  58'  S.  and  171°  7'  E.  Inconceivable 
mj-riads  of  penguins  covered  the  surface,  but  no  vegetation  waa 
seen.  Next  morning  there  was  a  southerly  gale  which  moderated, 
and  on  ISth  January  they  were  again  sailing  south  in  an  unexploretl 
sea.  On  the  23d  they  were  in  74°  20'  S.,  and  thus  passed  the  most 
southern  latitude  previously  reached  (by  Captain  \\'eddell  in  1823). 
Sailing  along  the  newly  discovered  coast.  Captain  Ross  landed  alter 
much  difficulty  on  an  island  named  after  Sir  John  Franklin  in 
76°  8'  S.  On  the  27th  they  came  in  sight  of  a  mountain  12,400 
feet  above  the  sea,  which  proved  to  be  an  active  volcano  emitting 
flame  and  smoke  in  great  profusion.  It  was  named  Mount  Erebus, 
and  an  extinct  volcano  to  the  eastward  10,900  feet  high  was  named 
Mount  Terror.  Along  the  coast  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  to 
the  eastward  there  was  a  perpendicular  cliiT  of  ice  from  150  to  200 
feet  high,  perfectly  level  at  the  top,  and  without  any  fissures  or 
promontories  on  its  smooth  seaward  face.  Nothing  could  be  seen 
above  it  except  the  summits  of  a  lofty  range  of  mountains  extend- 
ing to  the  southward  as  far  as  79°  S.  To  this  range  the  name  of 
Parry  was  given.  The  most  conspicuous  headlands  under  Mount 
Erebus  were  named  Capes  Crozier  and  Bird.  Captain  Koss  then 
sailed  eastward  along  the  marvellous  wall  of  ice,  in  77°  47'  S.  to 
78°  S.  This  ice  barrier  was  calculated  to  be  1000  feet  thick,  and  it 
was  followed  for  a  distance  of  450  miles  without  a  break.  The 
winter  was  now  approaching,  young  ice  was  beginning  to  form,  but 
luckily  a  strong  breeze  enabled  them  to  force  their  way  through  it. 
The  whole  of  the  great  southern  land  discovered  by  Sir  James 
Ross  was  named  Victoria  Land. 

In  returning  to  Hobart  Town  the  expedition  visited  the  Balleny 
Islands,  and  searched  in  vain  for  the  land  which  Captain  Wilkes 
had  laid  down  on  his  chart. 

In  November  1841  the  "  Erebus  "  and  "Terror"  again  shaped  a 
southerly  course,  entered  the  pack  ice  on  December  18th,  and  once 
more  crossed^the  Antarctic  Circle  on  New  Year's  Day.  The  naviga- 
tion through  a  belt  of  ice  800  miles  broad  was  extremely  perilous. 
At  length  on  1st  February  1842  a  clear  sea  was  in  sight,  and  they 
proceeded  to  the  southward  in  174°  31' W.  On  the  22d  they  were 
surrounded  by  numerous  lofty  icebergs  aground,  and  at  midnight  the 
Great  Icy  Barrier  was  sighted  and  its  examination  recommenced  in 
77°  49'  S.  Next  day  the  expedition  attained  a.latitude  of  78°  11'  S., 
by  far  the  highest  ever  reached  before  or  since.  After  escaping 
imminent  dangers  in  navigating  through  chains  of  huge  icebergs, 
Captain  Ross  took  his  shins  northward,  and  wintered  at  the  Falk- 
land Islands. 

In  December  1842  the  expedition  sailed  from  Port  Louis  on  the 
third  visit  to  the  south  polar  region,  seeing  the  first  iceberg  in 
61°  S.  On  the  28th  the  ships  sighted  the  land  named  after  the  Prince 
de  Joinville  by  Dumont  d'Urville,  and  the  southern  side  of  the 
South  Shetlands  was  discovered  and  surveyed.  During  February 
about  160  miles  of  the  edge  of  the  pack  were  examined,  on  March 
11th  the  Antarctic  Circle  was  recrossed  for  the  last  time,  and  the 
expedition  returned  to  England  in  September  1843.  Thus  after 
four  years  of  most  diligent  work,  this  ably  conducted  and  quite 
unparalleled  voyage  to  the  south  polar  regions  came  to  an  end. 

In  1845  a  merchant  barque,  the  "  Pagoda, "_wa3  hired  at  the 
Cape,  in  order  that  magnetic  observations  might  be  completed 
south  of  the  60th  parallel,  between  the  meridians  of  the  Cape  and 
Australia.  The  ship's  progress  was  stopped  by  an  impenetrable 
pack  in  68°  S.     The  magnetic  work  was,  however,  completed. 

H.M.S.  "  Challenger,"  the  exploring  ship  commanded  Cy  Captain 
Nares,  arrived  at  Kerguelen  Island  on  the  6th  January  1874, 
where  surveys  were  made,  and  the  island  was  thoroughly  examined 
by  the  naturalists  of  the  expedition.  Two  islands,  named  Heard 
and  M 'Donald,  were  also  visited,  which  had  been  discovered  in 
November  1853  by  Captain  Heard  of  the  American  ship  "Oriental," 
owing  to  the  practical  application  of  the  problem  of  great  circle 
sailing.  There  is  in  fact  a  group  of  islands  about  240  miles  from 
Kerguelen.  In  February  the  Challenger"  ran  south  before  a 
gale  of  wind  and  the  first  iceberg  was  sighted  on  the  11th 
in  60°  52'  S.  It  was  200  feet  high  and  ibout  700  long.  On  the 
19th  the  ship  was  at  the  edge  of  a  dense  pack  in  65°  42'  iS. ;  and  on 
the  4th  March  they  bore  up  for  Australia.  Several  deep-sea 
soundings  were  taken,  the  greatest  depth  being  1975  fathoms. 
The  route  of  the  "  Challenger  "  was  much  the  same  as  that  of  the 
"Pagoda"  in  1845,  bait  more  to  the  north.  With  it  ends  the 
somewhat  meagre  record  of  voyages  across  and  towards  the  Antarctic 
Circle.  'C.  K.  M.^ 


POLE,  Kj:oiirAi.i>  (1500-1558),  generally  kno>vn  as 
Cardinal  Pole,  was  born  at  Stourton  Castle,  Staffordshire, 
ifarch  3,  1500.  He  was  the  son  of  Sir  Richard  Pole  and 
Margaret,  countess  of  'Salisbury.     R3signed  from   early 


youth  for  the  church,  he  was  educated  in  the  Carthusian 
monastery  at  Sheen,  and  at  Magdalen  College,  Oxford.  Ho 
was  admitted  to  deacon's  orders  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  and 
at  once  received  high  preferments  holding,  among  oibar 


P  0  L  — P  O  L 


331 


benefices,  the  deanery  of  Exeter.  He  continued  his  studies 
at  the  university  of  Padua,  where  he  made  acquaintance 
\nth  Erasmus  and  other  prominent  men,  and,  after  a  visit 
to  Kome  in  1525,  returned  to  England.  Henry  VIII. 
was  eager  to  keep  him  at  court,  but  Pole  appears  to  have 
held  aloof  from  politics  until  the  question  of  the  king's 
divorce  drew  him  from  his  retirement.  He  was  probably 
from  the  first  opposed  to  Henry's  policy,  but  we  find  him, 
nevertheless,  in  1530,  at  Paris,  charged  with  the  duty  of 
obtaining  the  decision  of  the  Sorbonne  on  the  question  at 
issue.  That  decision  given,  he  returned  to  England,  but 
refused  to  approve  the  king's  divorce,  or  the  other  measures 
connected  with  it.  The  king,  anxious  to  gain  his  adhesion, 
offered  him  the  archbishopric  of  York,  vacant  by  the  death 
of  Wolsey  in  1531.  After  some  hesitation,  he  refused  the 
offer  and  left  the  country. 

This  was  the  turning-point  in  his  career,  and  concludes 
the  first  of  the  three  periods  into  which  his  life  may  be 
divided.  During  the  second  period,  for  upwards  of  twenty 
years,  he  lived  abroad,  the  declared  and  active  enemy  of 
the  Protestant  movement  in  his  own  country.  After 
passing  a  year  at  Avignon,  he  took  up  his  residence  a 
second  time  at  Padua.  As  he  had  not  yet  declared  him- 
self publicly  against  Henry,  the  latter  continued  favour- 
ably disposed  tov.ards  him,  allowing  him  the  revenues  of 
his  deanery,  and  exempting  him  from  the  oath  of  allegi- 
ance to  Queen  Anne's  children.  In  1535,  however,  there 
came  a  change.  The  king  sent  to  ask  iis  formal  opinion 
on  the  divorce  and  the  ecclesiastical  supremacy.  Pole's 
answer,  afterwards  published,  with  considerable  additions, 
under  the  title  Pro  Unitate  Ecdesisi.  was  sent  to  England 
early  in  the  next  year.  It  contained  a  vigorous  attack 
upon  Henry's  policy  and  menaced  the  king  with  condign 
punishment  at  the  hands  of  the  emperor  and  the  king  of 
France  if  he  did  not  return  to  his  allegiance  to  Rome.. 
Summoned  to  England  to  explain  himself,  he  refused  to 
come.  Late  in  1536  he  was  made  cardinal,  and  early 
next  year  he  was  sent  as  papal  legate  with  the  object  of 
uniting  Charles  V.  and  Francis  I.  in  an  attack  upon  Eng- 
land, which  was  to  coincide  with  a  rising  of  the  Piomanists 
in  that  country.  The  terms  of  peace  between  England 
and  France  making  it  impossible  for  him  to  remain  in  the 
latter  country  (for  ho  was  now  attainted  of  high  treason), 
he  passed  into  Flanders,  and  soon  afterwards  (August 
1537)  returned  to  Rome.  A  year  later  (November  1538) 
he  published  his  book,  together  with  an  apology  for  Lis 
own  conduct,  addressed  to  Charles  V.  In  1539,  after  the 
bull  of  excommunication  had  been  issued  against  Henry 
Vin.,  Polo  went  to  Spain  in  order  to  urge  Charles  to 
attack  England.  An  invasion  was  threatened  but  given 
up,  and  Pole  retired  to  Carpentras.  From  1539  to  1542 
he  acted  as  papal  legate  at  Viterbo.  In  1543  he  was  con- 
templating an  expedition  to  Scotland  with  an  armed  force 
to  aid  the  anti-English  party,  and  in  1545  he  was  corre- 
spc  nding  with  the  same  party  and  with^  Charles  V.  for  a 
joint  attack  on  England.  In  the  same  year  ho  went  to 
Trent  in  disguise,  to  avoid  the  danger  of  seizure  on  the 
way,  and  presided  at  some  of  the  preliminary  meetings  of 
the  council.  On  the  death,  of  Henry  VIII.  ho  made  an 
attempt  to  reconcile  him.sclt  with  the  English  Govern- 
ment, but  in  vain.  In  1549  he  was  a  candidate  for  the 
papacy  on  the  death  of  Paul  III.,  and  at  one  moment  was 
on  the  point  of  being  elected,  but  in  the  end  was  unsuc- 
cessful, and  retired  to  Maguzzano,  on  tho  Lake  of  Garda. 
When  Edward  VI.  died  Polo  was  engaged  in  editing  his 
book  Pro  Unitate  Ecclesia,  with  an  intended  dedication  to 
that  king. 

Tho  accession  of  Mary  opens  the  third  period  of  his  life. 
The  pojic  at  once  appointed  him  legate,  and  entered  into 
oegotiationa  with  the   queen,     A  marriage  between  her 


and  Pole  was  at  one  moment  contemplated,  but  the  state 
of  public  feeling  in  England  rendered  his  return  impossible^ 
and  he  was  kept  waiting  for  a  year  in  Flanders  and 
Germany.  The  reaction  at  length  produced  a  parliament 
favourable  to  Rome,  and  enabled  him  to  return  (November 
1554).  As  legate  he  received  the  national  submission, 
and  pronounced  the  absolution,  accepting  at  the  same 
time,  on  behalf  of  the  pope,  the  demands  of  parliament 
with  respect  to  ecclesiastical  lands,  &c.  Next  year  he  was 
on  twooccasions  a  candidate  for  the  papacy,  but  was  twice 
disappointed.  After  Philip's  departure,  and  the  death 
of  Gardiner  (October  1555),  Pole  became  Mary's  chief 
adviser,  and,  with  her,  must  bear  the  blame  of  the  perse- 
cution which  followed  on  the  reunion  with  Rome.  On 
Cranmer's  death  (March  1556)  he  became  archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  but  soon  afterwards  (May  1557)  fell  into  dis- 
grace with  the  pope,  Paul  IV.,  who  was  his  personal 
enemy.  On  the  outbreak  of  w^ar  with  France,  Paul,  the 
political  ally  of  that  country,  cancelled  Pole's  legatine 
powers  and  even  charged  him  with  heresy.  No  remon- 
strances on  the  part  of  Mary  and  Pole  himself  could  induce 
the  pope  to  retract  this  sentence,  and  Pole  died  (November 
18,  1558)  at  enmity  with  the  power  in  whose  support  he 
had  spent  his  life. 

His  chief  works  are  Pro  Unitate  EceUsise,  ad  Heni-Uum  VIIT. 
(ed.  princ,  Rome,  n.  d. );  Reformatio  Angliie  (Rome,  1556);  De 
Concilia  (Rome,  1562);  De  summi  Ponlificis  ojiicio  el  poteslaU 
(Louvain,  15C9);  Dc  Jiistificatione  (Louvain,  1569);  Letters,  kc 
(ed.  Quiriui,  Brescia,  1744). 

See  Beccadelll,  Vita  Pali  Carlinatis,  Venice,  1S53,  lonilon,  1600;-  Qnlrlnl, 
"Vita  Ricardi  Poll,"  prefixed  to  the  Xeifera;  FtuDipps,  Uittory  of  the  Life  o/ R. 
Pole,  Oxford,  1764;  also  Stiypc'8  Mcmoruili\  Froude'a  Miitory  of  Enf/land; 
KooWb  Archbishops  of  Canterbury  \  &c.  ((i.  W.  P.) 

POLECAT.  This  name  is  applied  to  one  of  the  English 
members  of  the  large  Family  Mvitelids,  which  contains  be- 
sides the  Martens,  Weasels,  Otters,  and  Badgers  (see  if  am- 
MALIA,  vol.  XV.  p.  439,  and  the  separate  articles  under 
these  names). 

In  this  family  the  Polecats,  while  belonging,  with  the 
stoats,  weasels,  and  many  others,  to  tho  nearly  cosmo- 
politan genus  Ptitorius,  form  by  themselves  a  small  group 


Common  Polecat. 

confined  to  tbe  northern  hemisphere,  and  consisting  ol 
four  species,  of  which  the  best  known  and  most  widely 
distributed  is  the  common  polecat  of  Europe  {Putorittt 
faiidm).  This  animal,  at  least  so  far  as  its  disposition, 
size,  and  proportions  are  concerned,  is  well  known  in  its 
domesticated  condition  as  the  ferret,  which  is  but  a  tamed 
albino  variety  of  tho  true  polecat.  The  colour  of  tho 
latter,  however,  instead  of  thy  familiar  yellowish  white  of 
the  ferret  is  of  a  dark  brown  tint  above,  and  black  below, 
tho   face   being  variegated  with  dark  brown  and  whita 


332 


P  O  L  — P  0  L 


markings.  Its  skull  is  rough,  strongly  ridged,  and  alto- 
gether of  a  far  more  powerful  type  than  those  of  the 
swats,  weasels,  or  martens ;  the  skull  of  the  female  is  very 
much  smaller  and  lighter  than  that 'of  the  male.  Its. fur 
is  long;  coarse,  and  of  comparatively  small  value,  and 
changes  its  colour  very  little,  if  at  all,  at  the  different 
seasons  of  the  year. 

The  distribution  and  habits  of  the  common  polecat  have 
been  well  described  by  Blasius  in  his  Sduyethiere  Beutsch- 
lands,  and  the  following  is  an  abstract  of  his  account. 
The  polecat  ranges  over  the  greater  part  of  Europe,  reach- 
ing northwards  into  southern  Sweden,  and  in  Russia  to 
the  region  of  the  White  Sea,  It  does  not  occur  in  the 
extreme  south,  but  is  common  everywhere  throughout 
central  Europe.  In  the  Alps  it  ranges  far  above  the  tree- 
line  during  the  summer,  but  retreats  in  winter  to  lower 
ground.  In  fine  weather  it  lives  either  in  the  open  air,  in 
holes,  fox-earths,  rabbit-warrens,  under  rocks,  or  in  wood- 
stacks  ;  whUe  in  winter  it  seeks  the  protection  of  deserted 
buildings,  barns,  or  stables.  During  the  day  it  sleeps  in 
its  hiding  place,  sallying  forth  at  night  to  plunder  dovecots 
and  hen-houses. "  It  climbs  but  little,  and  shows  far  less 
activity  than  the  marten.  It  feeds  ordinarily  on  small 
mammals,  such  as  rabbits,  hamsters,  rats,  and  mice,  on 
such  birds  as  it  can  catch,  especially  poultry  and  pigeons, 
and  also  on  snakes,  lizards,  frogs,  fish,  and  eggs.  Its  prey 
is  devoured  only  in  its  lair,  but,  even  though  it  can  carry 
away  but  a  single  victim,  it  commonly  kills  everything 
that  comes  in  its  way,  often  destroying  all  the  inhabitants 
of  a  hen-house  in  order  to  gratify  its  passion  for  slaughter. 
The  pairing  time  is  towards  the  end  of  the  winter,  and  the 
young,  from  three  to  eight  in  number,  are  born  in  April 
or  May,  after  a  period  of  gestation  of  about  two  months. 
The  young,  Lf  taken  early,  may  be  easily  trained,  like 
ferrets,  for  rabbit-catching.  The  polecat  is  very  tena- 
cious of  life  and  will  bear  many  severe  wounds  before 
succumbing ;  it  is  also  said  to  receive  with  impunity 
the  bite  of  the  adder.  Its  fetid  smell  has  become  pro- 
verbial. To  this  it  is  indebted  for  its  generic  name  Puto- 
rius  (derived,  as  are  also  the  low  Latin  putacius,  the  French 
putois,  and  the  Italian  puzzola,  from  puteo),  as  well  as  the 
designation  foumart  (i.e.  foul  marten),  and  its  other  Eng- 
lish names  fitchet,  fitchew.  Attempts  to  account  for  the 
first  syllable  of  \  the  word  jt)o?€ca<  rest  entirely  on  conjec- 
ture. 

The  other  species  of  the  polecat  group  are  the  follow- 
ing :— 

The  Siberian  Polecat  {Futorius  evcrsmanni),  very  like  the 
European  iu  size,  colour,  and  proportions,  but  with  head  and  back 
both  nearly  or  quite  white,  and  skull  more  heavily  built  and 
sharply  constricted  behind  the  orbits,  at  least  in  fully  adult  indi- 
viduals. It  inhabits  the  greater  part  of  south-western  Siberia, 
extending  from  Tibet  into  the  steppes  of  south-eastern  European 
Russia. 

The  Black-footed  or  American  Polecat  (PiUorilts  nigripes),  a 
native  of  the  central  plateau  of  the  United  States,  and  extending 
southwards  into  Texas.  It  is  very  closely  allied  to  the  last  species, 
but  has  nevertheless  been  made  the  type  of  a  special  sub-genus 
named  Cijnomyonax,  or  "  King  of  the  Prairie  Marmots,"  a  name 
which  expresses  its  habit  of  living  in  the  burrows  of,  and  feeding 
upon,  the  curious  prairie  marmots  (Cynomj/s)  of  the  United  States. 
An  excellent  account  of  this  species  may  be  found  in  Dr  Elliott 
Coues's  Far-bearing  Aniinals  of  North  America. 

Lastly,  the  Mottled  Polecat  (Futorius  sarmaticiis),  a  rare  and 
peculiar  species  occurring  in  southern  Russia  and  south-western 
Asia,  extending  from  eastern  Poland  to  Afghanistan.  It  differs 
from  the  other  polecats  both  by  its  smaller  size  and  its  remarkable 
coloration,  the  whole  of  its  upper  parts  being  marbled  with  large 
irregular  reddish  spots  on  a  white  gi-ound,  and  its  underside,  limbs, 
and  tail  being  deep  shining  black.  Its  habits,  which  seem  to  be 
very  much  those  of  the  common  polecat,  have  been  studied  in 
Kandahar  by  Captain  Thomas  Hutton,  who  has  given  a  vivid 
description  of  them  in  the  Journal  of  the  Asiatic  Society  of  Bengal 
for  1845. 

POLEVOY.     See  Eussian  LiITeratuee. 


POLICE.  The  branch  of  criminal  justice  which  com- 
prises a  methodical  system  for  the  prevention  and  detection 
of  crime  is  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  "Police."  With 
the  system  having  these  objects  is  combined  the  execution 
of  many  duties  not  strictly  involved  in  the  popular  defini* 
tion  of  crime,  bui,  materially  affecting  the  security  and 
convenience  of  the  public.  Bentham,  more  comprehen' 
lively,  says  that  police  is  in  general  a  system  of  precaution 
either  for  the  prevention  of  crime  or  of  calamities.  It  is 
destined  to  prevent  evils  and  provide  benefits.  The  system 
for  the  attainment  of  these  objects  and  the  introduction 
and  establishment  of  that  system  in  the  United  Kingdom 
form  the  main  subject  of  this  article  ;  some  account  will 
afterwards  be  given  of  the  police  in  other  states. 

In  this  view  the  definition  and  use  of  the  word  "  police." 
as  meaning  the  regulation  and  government  of  the  city  and 
country  in  relation  to  the  inhabitants,  are  not  sufficiently 
close.  When  Blackstone  says  that  by  the  public  police 
and  economy  he  means  "  the  due  regulation  and  domes- 
tic order  of  the  kingdom,  whereby  the  individuals  of  the 
state,  like  members  of  a  well  governed  family,  are  bound 
to  conform  their  ger\eral  behaviour  to  the  rules  of  pro- 
priety, good  neighbourhood,  and  good  manners,  and  to  be 
decent,  industrious,  and  inoffensive  in  their  respective 
stations,"  the  definition  is  capable  of  an  interpretation  at 
once  too  wide  and  too  narrow  for  the  present  purpose.  It 
is  vain  to  look  for  an  accurate  description  of  police,  as  a 
system,  in  writers  of  a  period  when  the  thing  sought  for 
had  no  existence.  .  The  system  is  of  recent  growth,  and  it 
is  necessarily  more  associated  with  personal  instruments 
for  the  attainment  of  objects  than  with  the  objects  to  be 
attained.  An  observation  of  Gibbon,  referring  to  the 
tediles  and  quaestors  of  the  Roman  empire,  that  officers  erf 
the  police  or  revenue  easily  adapt,  themselves  to  any  form 
of  government,  correctly  presents  the  idea  of  distinctive 
personal  elements.  A  system  of  poUce  administration 
includes  neither  the  making  of  the  law  nor  the  law  itself. 
Officers  of  police  are  neither  legislators  nor  (in  the  usual 
sense)  magistrates.  They  are  the  instruments  by  whidi 
conformity  to  the  rules  of  the  commonwealth  is  attained. 

Apart  from  the  repression  of  crime'  as  generally  under- 
stood, it  is  plain  that,  at  least  in  crowded  cities,  a  power 
ought  to  exist  for  the  suppression  of  noise  and  disorder, 
the  regulation  of  locomotion  and  traffic,  the  correction  of 
indecency,  and  the  prevention  of  a  numerous  class  of 
annoyances  and  impositions  which  can  only  be  restrained 
by  cognizance  being  taken  of  them  at  the  instant.  To  these 
may  be  added  a  number  of  petty  disputes  the  immediate 
settlement  of  which  tends  materially  to  the  public  peace. 
Over  such  subjects  as  these  it  is  obviously  for  the  general 
advantage  the  police  should  have  a  summary  control.  Any 
apprehension  of  danger  to  liberty  can  only  be  founded  on 
its  abuse  and  not  upon  its  proper  exercise. 

The  employment  of  persons  in  these  various  duties,  as 
well  as  in  the  prevention  and  detection  of  graver  matters  of 
crime,  constitutes  a  division  of  state  labour.  Therefore, 
while  it  is  perfectly  correct  to  speak  of  the  various  legisla- 
tive and  other  measures  for  good  order  as  "matters  of 
police,"  the  organization  and  management  of  the  police 
forces  constitute  a  distinct  subject. 

The  essential  features  of  the  established  police  system, 
alike  in  Great  Britain  and  in  foreign  states,  in  cities  and 
towns  as  in  countries  and  village  communities,  comprise 
the  following  matters  : — 

I.  A  body  of  persons  in  relation  to  the  8ta,te  enforcing 
obedience  to  the  criminal  law,  the  prevention  and  detec- 
tion of  crime,  and  the  preservation  of  order,  over  a  defined 
area,  generally  divided  and  subdivided  for  the  purpose  of 
distribution  and  immediate  government  of  the  force,  bnt 
having  one  jurisdiction  throughout. 


POLICE 


333 


II.  The  division  of  that  force  into' classes  of  various 
rank,  comprising,  in  general,  in  ascending  order,  constables, 
sergeants,  inspectors,  and  superintendents  (or  their  equi- 
valents),— the  constables  being  the  most  numerous  and 
themselves  divided  into  classes. 

III.  General  control  of  the  entire  body  by  heads, 
whether  styled  commissioners  or  chiefs,  having  power  to 
make  regulations  for  the  government  of  the  force,  subject 
in  turn  to  the  control  of  state  authorities. 

rV.  Patrol  day  and  night  of  the  streets,  roads,  and 
public  places, — the  "  beats"  and  "  tours  of  duty  "  of  con- 
stables being  prescribed  by  regulations,  and  actual  per- 
formance and  compliance  being  secured  by  the  sergeants 
and  inspectors. 

v.  The  payment  of  the  force,  including  establishment 
charges,  out  of  public  funds  provided  for  the  purpose. 

In  dealing  with  these  subjects  as  nearly  as  may  be  in 
the  order  indicated,  the  relationship  of  the  police  force  to 
the  state  is  of  primary  importance.  A  general  control  by 
the  executive  Government  of  a  state  of  the  police  forces,  for 
the  legitimate  objects  for  which  they  are  established,  seems 
essential.  la  Great  Britain  every  member  of  the  force, 
from  an  ordinary  constable  upwards,  stands  in  the  direct 
position  of  a  servant  of  the  crown.  On  admission  he 
makes  a  promissory  declaration  (recently  substituted  for 
an  oath)  that  he  wUl  serve  the  sovereign  ;  and  it  is  upon 
the  fact  that  a  police  constable  has  the  powers,  duties,  and 
privileges  of  a  peace  officer  of  and  for  the  crown  that  many 
of  the  incidents  of  his  service  depend,  although  the  im- 
mediate power  of  dismissal  is  vested  in  heads  of  a  force, 
whoso  orders  he  is  bound  to  obey. 

The  state  employs  the  police  forces  for  the  public  wel- 
fare only.  "  There  is  not  in  England,"  remarked  the  late 
Chief-Justice  Cockburn,  "  any  more  than  in  America,  any 
system  of  espionage  or  secret  police  to  pry  into  men's 
secret  actions  or  to  obtain  information  for  the  Government 
by  underhand  and  unworthy  means."  The  truth  of  this 
is  exemplified  in  the  present  position  of  police  administra- 
tion in  the  metropolitan  police  district  of  England  acting 
under  the  immediate  control  of  the  secretary  of  state.  The 
fear  expressed,  and  no  doubt  felt,  on  the  first  establish- 
ment of  a  regularly  organized  system  of  police,  that  the 
freedom  of  holding  meetings  and  the  utterance  of  opinion 
at  them  would  be  suppressed,  has  been  dispelled.  The 
police  are  expressly  enjoined  not  to  interfere  with  persons 
attending  political  meetings  unless  specially  ordered,  and 
such  orders  are  not  given  unless  disorder  or  a  breach  of 
the  peace  is  imminent.  Public  addresses,  even  in  some  of 
the  royal  parks,  are  permitted,  provided  they  do  not  cause 
any  obstruction,  and  are  not  of  an  unlawful  character. 
There  are  no  Government  police  to  watch  the  delivery  of 
mere  political  opinion  or  the  tenor  of  its  reception  by  the 
auditory.  The  press  is  also  free  from  Government  inter- 
ference, through  the  police,  in  matters  short  of  crime  or 
not  directly  incentive  to  crime. 

The  sphere  of  action  of  the  police  force  in  relation  to 
the  state  has  been  extended  by  legislative  enactments  pro- 
viding that  criminals  who  have  escaped  to  or  from  colonies 
may  bo  followed  and  removed  by  process  of  law,  and  tried 
where  the  crime  originated.  The  practical  execution  of 
the  law  as  to  these  fugitive  offenders  rests  with  the  police. 
The  same  observation  applies  to  the  province  of  police 
under  extradition  treaties.  But  the  general  action  of  the 
police  force  of  a  country  is  bounded  by  its  shores.  As  the 
open  sea  is  not  the  territory  of  any  one  nation,  it  is  not 
competent  to  any  one  nation  to  preserve  order  or  remove 
all  <lclinqnents  on  its  surface,  as  it  is  in  the  ports,  rivers, 
and  lakes  of  a  state.  When  Lord  Castlereagh  at  the  con- 
gress of  Vienna  spoke  of  the  "  police"  to  be  exercised  over 
ships  carrying  slaves,  Talleyrand  asked  the  precise  meaning 


of'  the  expression  ;  and,  on  the  English  statesman  explain- 
ing that  he  intended  to  refer  to  what  every  Government 
exercised  in  virtue  of  its  .sovereignty  or  under  treaties  with 
other  powers,  Talleyrand  would  not  admit  the  existence 
of  any  maritime  police,  except  that  of  each  power  over  its 
own  vessels. 

The  supervision  of  the  )>olice  by  the  Government  stands 
thus.  The  commissioner  of  police  of  the  metropolis  of 
London  is  appointed  by  and  acts  under  the  immediate, 
direction  of  the  secretary  of  state  for  the  home  department. 
The  commissioner  of  jiolice  of  the  city  of  London  is  in 
communication  with  the  corporation,  who  appoint  him. 
There  is,  however,  a  power  of  approval  of  regulations  in 
the  secretary  of  state.  In  the  counties  of  England  the 
appointment  of  the  chief  constable  is  by  the  county 
magistrates  subject  to  the  approval  of  the  secretary  of 
state.  Tn  municipal  corporations  the  police,  including  the 
chief  or  head  constable,  are  appointed  by  the  watch  com- 
mittee. In  all  these  cases  except  in  the  metropolis  the 
secretary  of  state  leaves  the  immediate  control  to  local 
authorities  and  disclaims  responsibility.  In  Scotland  the 
secretary  of  state  has  a  voice  in  the  rules  for  the  govern- 
ment, pay,  and  necessaries  of  the  force.  The  appointment 
of  the  chief  constable  is  subject  to  his  approval,  but 
practically  there  is  no  interference  called  for  in  this  respect. 
In  Ireland  great  authority  is  vested  in  the  lord  lieutenant 
both  with  respect  to  the  police  of  Dublin  and  the  royal 
Irish  constabulary.  The  immediate  government  is  vested 
in  the  heads  of  the  forces,  and  the  parliamentary  responsi- 
bility is  in  the  chief  secretary  for  Ireland.  Eeports  and 
returns  as  to  the  police  forces  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland 
are  laid  before  parliament.  The  immediate  control  and 
responsibility  of  a  cabinet  minister  for  the  police  of  tho 
metropolis  of  London  makes  a  very  important  distinction 
between  the  position  of  that  force  and  of  the  other  police 
forces  of  the  empire.  There  is,  however,  a  general  relation- 
ship of  the  police  fortes  of  the  country  to  the  state,  arising 
from  the  contribution  (not  now  limited  to  a  particular  pro- 
portion) made  by  parliament  to  the  expenditure  for  a  police 
force.  Under  an  Act  of  1856  the  crown  appoints  three 
persons  as  paid  inspectors  to  visit  and  inquire  into  the  state 
and  etTiciency  of-the  police  appointed  for  every  county  and 
borough  in  England  and  Wales,  and  to  see  whether  the 
provisions  of  the  Acts  under  which  they  are  appointed 
are  duly  observed  and  carried  into  effect ;  and  upon 
the  secretary  of  state's  certificate  of  efficiency,  laid  before 
parliament,  the  contribution  is  made.  In  the  same  way  an 
inspector  for  Scotland  reports  annually. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  contribution  cannot  be 
made  to  a  borough  police  not  consolidated  with  tho  county 
police  where  the  population  is  less  than  5000.  In  Eng- 
land tho  state,  except  in  the  city  of  London,  contributes 
about  half  tho  pay  of  forces  which  submit  to  certain  regu- 
lations, to  inspection,  and  to  a  definite  amount  of  imperial 
control.  In  Scotland  tho  state  also  contributes.  About 
two-thirds  of  tho  cost  of  tho  Dublin  metropolitan  police 
is  met  by  the  treasury.  Tho  balance  in  all  tho  above 
cases  comes  from  the  locality.  Tho  ro3'al  Irish  consta- 
bulary is  the  only  force  whose  ordinary  strength  is  entirely 
supported  by  imperial  taxation,  subject,  however,  to  pay- 
ment by  districts  where  special  services  are  necessary. 

To  prevent  political  influence  being  brought  to  bear  upon 
tho  police,  they  cannot  vote  at  elections  of  members  of 
parliament  within  their  district ;  and  tho  chief  officers  are 
disqualified  from  sitting  in  parliament. 

Tho  rclationahi])  of  the  police  forces  of  tho  country  to 
tho  army  as  a  state  forco  is  satisfactory.  Tho  police  is  a 
civil  force.  Although  constables  constantly  speak  of  the 
public  as  "civilians,"  tho  police  are  in  turn  styled  civilians 
by  soldiers.     It  is  now  only  on  rare  occasions  that  soldiers 


334 


POLICE 


are  required  to  intervene  in  the  case  of  riot  or  tumult,  as 
fortunately  the  police  force  is  generally  sufficient  for  the 
preservation  of  the  peace  of  the  country.  If  disturbance  is 
apprehended  in  any  district,  special  constables  are  called 
upon  to  aid.  It  is  no  less  due  to  the  improved  temper  and 
habits  of  the  people  than  to  the  existence  of  the  police 
force  that  military  display  is  rarely  needed  to  suppress 
riots.  In  state  processions  and  on  some  other  occasions 
the  police  and  household  troops  together  maintain  the  line 
of  route,  and  where  troops  assemble  for  inspection  the 
police  sometimes  aid  in  keeping  the  ground.  The  police, 
as  constables,  are  required  to  carry  out  the  law  as  to  billet- 
ing and  the  impressment  of  carriages, ^at  one  time  a  very 
heavy  incident  of  duty,  but  considerably  lightened  by  the 
practice  of  conveying  troops  by  railway.  The  police  appre- 
hend deserters  on  reasonable  suspicion.  Police  in  charge 
of  a  station  must  receive  prisoners,  including  deserters  and 
absentees  subject  to  military  law,  if  duly  sent  there  by 
military  authority;  and,  as  a  person  subject  to  military 
law  is  usually  left  to  be  dealt  with  by  the  ordinary  civil 
tribunal  for  offences,  he  is  taken  by  the  police  before  a 
magistrate.  On  the  other  hand  no  person  subject  to  mili- 
tary law,  whether  an  officer  or  a  private,  can  neglect  or 
refuse  to  deliver  over  to  the  civil  magistrate  any  officer 
or  soldier  accused  of  an  offence  punishable  in  the  ordinary 
mode,  or  to  assist  the  police  in  his  lawful  apprehension ;  an 
adjustment  of  military  and  civil  law  is  therefore  effected. 

The  duties  devolving  on  a  police  force  require  a  fuller 
notice  than  the  general  remarks  already  made, 
eneral  A  constable  on  ordinary  patrol  duty  has  to  attend  to 
jties.  every  circumstance  that  a  keen  eye  and  ready  ear  bring 
under  his  notice.  In  a  carefully  drawn  statute,  although 
not  now  in  general' use,  the  general  sphere  of  observation 
and  duty  by  constables  is  thus  summarized  : — 

"  During  the  time  they  shall  be  on  duty,  use  their  utmost  en- 
deavours to  pre%'ent  any  mischief  by  fire,  aud  also  to  prevent  all 
robberies,  burglaries,  and  other  felonies  and  misdemeanors,  and 
other  outrages,  disorders,  and  breaches  of  the  peace  ;  and  to  appre- 
hend and  secure  all  felons,  rogues,  vagabonds,  and  disorderly  peisona 
who  shall  disturb  the  public  peace,  or  any  party  or  persons  wander- 
ing, secreting,  or  misbehaving  himself,  herself,  or  themselves,  or 
whom  they  shall  have  reasonable  cause  to  suspect  of  any  evil  designs ; 
and  to  secure  and  keep  in  safe  custody  any  such  person,  in  order  that 
he  or  she  may  be  conveyed  as  soon  as  conveniently  may  be  before 
a  justice  of  the  peace,  to  be  examined  and  dealt  with  according  to 
law  ;  and  it  shall  and  may  be  lawful  to  and  for  the  said  watchmen, 
Serjeants  of  the  watch,  patrols,  and  other  person  or  persons  to 
call  and  require  any  person  or  persons  to  aid  and  assist  them  in 
taking  such  felons,  rogues,  vagabonds,  and  all  disorderly  or  sus- 
pected persons  as  aforesaid"  (3  &  4  Will.  IV.  c.  90,  §  41). 

Police  action  in  relation  to  the  serious  matters  constitut- 
ing crime  is  familiar  knowledge.  It  is  essential  to  bear  in 
mind  that  the  powers  of  the  police  in  arresting  and  other- 
wise dealing  with  criminals  in  a  variety  of  ways  is  derived 
from  and  depends  on  police  constables  having  been,  ex- 
pressly invested  with  the  powers  aud  duties  of  the  old  parish 
constables.  Every  police  force  has  been  given  these  powers 
and  duties  of  constables,  and  the  possession  of  them  is  so 
essential  that,  however  they  may  be  supplemented  by 
modern  legislation,  without  them  no  police  force  could 
exist  for  a  day. 

A  statistical  or  other  inquiry  into  crime  is  necessarily 
beyond  the  limits  of  this  article.  A  few  facts,  however, 
bear  on  the  efficiency  of  the  police  forces. 

The  returns  indicate  that  the  apprehensions  in  1881-82  were 
(omitting  fractions)  in  the  proportion  of  41  per  cent  to  the  number 
of  crimes  committed  in  England  and  Wales,  against  a  like  propor- 
tion in  1880-81,  42  per  cent,  in  1879-80,  45  in  1878-79,  44  in 
1877-78,  46  for  1876-77,  and  47  per  cent,  for  1875-76. 

The  director  of  criminal  investigations  reported  for  the  year  1882 
that  a  comparison  of  the  statistics — which  are  prepared  by  an 
independent  service  with  a  scrupulous  regard  to  accuracy — with 
those  of  foreign  cities  shows  that  the  metropolis  of  London  (metro- 
}>olitan  police  district),  with  a  territory  nearly  700  square  miles  in 
extent,  covered  by  more  than  700,000  separate  houses,  and  inhabited 


by  a  population  barely  less  than  5,000,000,  is  the  safest  capital  fo 
lite  aud  property  in  the  world. 

Although  criminal  procedure  does  not  admit  of  being 
fully  treated  here  as  jiart  of  the  police  system,  yet  as  thi 
police  by  duty  as  well  as  practice  are  in  fact  prosecutors 
in  the  majority  of  criminal  cases,  the  important  part  taken 
by  the  police  force  requires  notice. 

The  efficiency  of  the  police,  as  well  as  the  exigCTicies  of  cases,  has 
led  to  the  arrest  of  offenders  or  suspected  persons  in  the  great 
majority  of  felonies  and  other  crimes,  where  the  power  exists,  with- 
out ajiplying  to  magistrates  for  warrants  in  the  first  instance. 
Although  there  are  some  advantages  attendant  upon  a  practice 
under  wiiich  magistrates  do  not  hear  of  the  matter  until  the  accused 
is  actually  before  them,  it  is  undoubtedly  better,  as  recently  declared 
by  the  commissioners  reporting  on  the  criminal  code,  for  the  police 
officer  to  obtain  a  warrant  where  circumstances  admit  of  his  doing 
so.  When  he  anests,  whether  with  or  without  a  warrant,  it  is  his 
duty  to  take  the  prisoner  before  a  magistrate. 

Without  attempting  to  enter  fully  into  the  rights  and  duties  of 
the  police  in  relation  to  arrest,  it  may  be  mentioned  that,  while  the 
important  action  of  the  police  is  derived  from  and  wholly  depend- 
ent (except  in  some  cases  where  recent  legislation  has  found  a 
place)  on  the  older  powers,  science  has  been  made  subservient  in 
facilitating  the  application  of  those  powers  to  police  duties.  As  iu 
old  times  the  reasonable  suspicion  giving  the  right  to  arrest  may 
still  be  founded  on  personal  observation  and  information  in  the 
ordinary  mode ;  but  the  electric  telegraph  and  the  photograph  now 
lend  their  aid  as  recognized  agents  in  favour  of  justice  and  truth  far 
more  than  in  aid  of  fraud  and  deception. 

If  an  arrest  is  without  a  warrant,  it  is  the  officer's  du;y  to  show 
that  he  acted  rightly  by  establishing  at  least  that  he  proceeded  on 
reasonable  information.  His  task  is  generally  much  more.  He  or 
some  police  officer,  whether  acting  under  a  warrant  or  not,  has  to 
adduce  all  the  evidence  to  justify  a  committal  for  trial,  or,  if  the  casf 
is  one  in  which  the  court  of  summary  jurisdiction  has  the  power, 
for  a  conviction.  In  carrying  out  this  duty  even  in  simple  cased 
.  a  multitude  of  matters  have  to  be  attended  to  in  which  a  number 
of  police  officers  take  a  part.  Whether  the  arrest  is  made  by  a 
constable  on  his  beat  or  under  other  circumstances,  the  ordinary 
dutj'  involves  taking  the  prisoner  to  the  police  station,  where  the 
charge  is  entered.  He  is  then  taken  before  the  magistrate,  oi', 
in  some  cases,  bailed.  If  the  charge  be  one  of  felony  it  generally 
involves  a  remand,  not  only  for  the  attendance  of  witnesses,  but  to 
ascertain  the  prisoner's  antecedents  ;  and  these  remands  are  often 
multiplied  in  complicated  cases.  Every  remand  involves  the  con- 
veyance of  the  •prisoner  to  and  from  the  prison  or  "lock-up," — 
generally  the  former.  Detective  police  attend  at  the  prison  to 
ascertain  whether  the  accused  has  been  previously  convicted  or 
charged.  Witnesses  must  be  seen  and  their  attendance  secured.  If 
the  prisoner  is  eventually  committed  for  trial  it  is  the  duty  of  the 
inspector  or.  other  officer  having  charge  of  the  case  to  aid  the 
magistrate's  clerk  in  making  out  the  certificate  of  costs,  so  thai 
"the  proper  amounts  for  the  allowance  of  witnesses  are  inserted. 
Although  in  ordinary  cases  there  is  a  nominal  ' '  prosecutor  "  (thle 
person  who  has  been  wounded  or  lost  his  property),  if  he  enters 
into  a  recognizance  before  the  magistrate,  he  leaves  everything  to 
the  police,  who  have  to  inform  him  even  when  and  where  he  must 
attend  for  the  trial,  and  the  police  are  required  in  many  cases  tfl 
give  the  necessary  instructions  for  the  indictment ;  and,  when  the 
proper  time  arrives  for  the  trial  at  the  sessions  or  assizes  (of  which 
public  notice  is  given),  the  police  must  inform  the  witnesses  and 
arrange  for  their  conveyance  and  prompt  attendance  in  the  precincts 
of  the  court,  first  before  the  grand  jury,  afterwards  on  the  trial. 
A  police  officer  must  attend  the  taxing  officer,  give  the  necessary 
particulars  as  to  the  witnesses,  and  see  that  they  receive  ttwi 
allowances. 

The  responsibilities  and  duties  of  the  police  may  be  varied,  i<at 
on  the  whole  are  scarcely  diminished,  •  if  there  is  a  solicitor  foi  •  a 
private  or  for  the  public  prosecutor ;  the  Act  of  1884  relating  to  iht 
public  prosecutor  regards  the  police  as  essential  parties,  and  it  is 
certain  that  no  general  system  of  prosecution  can  be  carried  on  with 
diminished  police  intervention. 

The  duties  of  police  to  accused  persons  are  too  important  to  be 
passed  over  in  complete  silence.  To  say  that  tliey  involve  perfect 
fairness  ought  to  be  a  sufficient  guide,  but  it  is  right  to  add 
that  the  indirect  as  well  as  the  direct  extortion  of  statements,  eithei 
by  threat  or  promise,  is  forbidden.  On  the  other  hand  to  caution 
accused  persons  is  not  the  province  of  the  police ;  as  on  the  on« 
hand  a  police  officer  ought  not  in  general  to  put  questions,  so  on 
the  other  hand  he  ought  not  to  prevent  voluntary  statements.  Hii 
general  duty  is  to  listen,  and  to  remember  accurately  what  the 
accused  says.  It  is  often  the  duty  of  an  officer  to  give  informa- 
tion to  the  accused,  as  for  instance  of  the  nature  of  the  charge  on 
which  he  is  arrested  or  to  read  the  warrant ;  but  information  of  this 
kind  should  not  be  given  interrogatively.     It  sometimes  happens, 


POLICE 


335 


however,  that  in  the  course  of  inquiries  a  person  maVes  a  criminatory 
Btatement  to  a  police  oHicer,  in  conse<)uence  of  which  it  is  the  duty 
of  tlie  officer  to  arrest  him.  This  is  distinct  from  questioning  a 
person  wliom  the  officer  has  not  merely  suspected  but  predetermined 
to  arrest 

Some  other  dnties,  the  growth  of  modern  times  and  unknown 
OBtil  recently,  devolve  on  the  police  in  relation  to  criminals. 
They  aiise  from  the  release  of  offenders  sentenced  to  penal  servitude 
before  the  expiration  of  the  period,  on  certain  conditions,  or  of 
offenders  sentenced,  after  the  expiration  of  their  sentence  of 
imprisonment,  to  be  under  police  supervision  for  a  given  period. 
Both  classes  of  convicts  involve  tlie  {>erformance  by  the  police 
of  very  responsible  duties  in  reference  to  reporting  and  giving  notice 
of  changes  of  residence,  so  as  to  make  the  watch  and  supervision  a 
real  thing,  and  at  the  same  time  to  give  the  convicts  the  oppor- 
tunity, S3  intended,  of  gaining  an  honest  livelihood  at  some  labour 
or  calling.  It  is  a  frequent  source  of  complaint  by  the  convicts 
that  they  are  so  watched  that  they  cannot  obtain  employment,  and 
are  driven  into  the  repetition  of  crime, — the  police  retorting  that 
the  allegations  are  ufitnie,  and  that  the  fresh  offence  is  the  result  of 
the  lialiitual  offender's  incurable  love  for  crime.  Any  constable  in 
any  police  district  may,  if  authorized  so  to  do  (in  wTiting)  by  the 
chief  officer  of  police  of  that  district,  without  warrant  take  into 
custody  any  convict  who  is  the  holder  of  a  licence  if  it  appears  to 
such  constable  that  sucli  convict  is  getting  his  livelihood  by  dis- 
honest means,  and  may  bring  him  before  a  court  of  summary  juris- 
diction. The  system  of  "reporting"  is  itself  a  branch  of  police 
administration  of  great  importance,  and  requiring  considerable 
knowledge.  Its  headquarters  may  be  said  to  be  in  the  metropolis 
and  under  the  superintendence  of  the  police  of  that  district,  but  it 
involves  constant  communication  with  other  districts  and  obiserva- 
tion  tliroughout  the  kingdom. 

The  extent  of  police  duty  in  respect  of  such  offenders  is  shown 
by  the  fact  that,  according  to  the  last  published  return,  there  were 
in  England  and  Wales  1268  convicts  on  licence  and  persons  under 
sentence  of  supervision. 

The  police  are  in  general  the  instruments  for  carrying  out  the 
Statutory  provisions  respecting  certified  industrial  schools  and 
reformatories.  Not  only  is  the  process  for  the  most  part  directed 
to  the  police,  but  magistrates  and  others  interested  look  to  the  force 
for  suggestions  and  assistance.  In  some'  respects  it  would  be  desir- 
able if  industrial  schools,  as  distinguished  from  reformatories,  could 
be  worked  without  the  intervention  of  police,  agency,  but  that 
pecms  impracticable. 

All  important  police  function  relates  to  ttie  exv'cntion  of  process, 
and  is  not  confined  to  subjects  or  cases  in  which  the  force  is  collec- 
tively or  individually  concerned  in  the  performance  of  their  duty. 
Whether  the  process  is  a  warrant  or  a  summons,  its  execution  or 
service  is  in  the  hands  of  the  police.  Magisterial  warrants  of  appre- 
hension and  search  are  by  law,  in  other  than  exceptional  cases, 
necessarily  directed  to  the  police  as  peace  officers,  whether  their 

iiurport  be  to  bring  tlie  person  before  the  tribunal  or  to  convey 
lim  from  it  or  from  one  place  to  another  ;  and  in  other  warrants  of 
execution,  although  parochial  officers  are  often  joined,  police  are 
afso  included  to  prevent  abuses  of  tlie  law  to  which  the  poor  are  so 
much  exposed.  Police  officers  are  now  expressly  required  to  have 
the  direction  of  warrants  of  distress.  The  service  of  a  magisterial 
summons,  altliough  not  in  general  prescribed  to  be  effected  by  a 
]K)lico  officer,  in  practice  properly  devolves  on  the  force.  In  the 
metropolitan  police  district  all  police  service  must  be  by  its  officers. 
In  a  great  variety  of  matters  where  notice  has  to  be  given  to  per- 
sons, the  duty  of  communicating  it  either  verbally  or  in  writing 
or  in  print  is  thrown  on  the  police.  So  convenient  a  medium  for 
the  orderly  administration  of  purely  civil  matters  are  the  police 
found  that,  at  the  requestof  the  local  government  board,  the  police 
are  allowed  to  deliver  and  collect  voting  papers  in  the  election  of 
parochial  officers. 

The  incrca.'icd  area  over  which  a  police  constable  as  compared  with 
the  old  parish  constable  has  jurisdiction  facilitates  both  arrests  and 
•crvice  of  process.  Although  stationed  within  a  defined  area  of 
jlimitcd  jurisdiction,  the  duties  of  the  force  often  involve  the  opera- 
tion of  functions  without  gcograjihical  limits,  requiring  the  actual 
presence  of  its  members  outside  as  well  as  the  performance  within 
the  district  of  much  that  relates  to  the  exterior. 

Tho  service  of  process  calls  for  constant  communication  between 
diiTercnt  police  forces.  The  law  provides  for  the  baeking  of  warrant*, 
by  which  a  constable  can  act  beyond  his  ordinary  jurisdiction  or 
by  which  the  warrants  can  bo  transmitted.  A  magisterial 
summons  for  appearance  does  not  require  formal  tranemission. 
It  is  addressed  not  to  the  police  but  to  the  defendant,  and  can  be 
served  by  an  officer  of  any  district ;  but,  as  until  recently  the. 
proof  of  service  could  only  bo  given  by  the  personal  attendance 
of  the  serving  officer  at  tho  magistrate's  court,  great  expense  was 
iiieuiTcd  in  travelling  to  effect  service,  and  inconvenience  in  attend- 
ing to  prove  it.  This  has  been  remedied  in  most  ci-ies  by  allowing 
service  to  bo  proved  by  a  declaration  before  a  magistrate. 

Tlio  tiausmission  of  process,  declarations  of  service,  payment  of  , 


fees,  and  many  other  incidents  arising  in  apparently  the  moft 
simple  cases  now  involve  constant  communication  between  police 
forces  by  whatever  distance  they  may  be  separated. 

A  few  lines  must  suffice  on  the  general  duties  of  the  police  force  in 
relation  to  a  variety  of  otlier  matters.  Some  of  these  are  closelj* 
connected  with  crime,  others  with  municipal  regulations  only.  The 
police,  as  having  all  tlie  duties  of  constables,  act  as  coroner's  officers; 
they  make  minute  inquiries  as  to  suicides,  accidents  of  every  kind, 
insane  persons  and  their  apprehension,  and  deal  with  destitute 
persons  and  persons  seized  with  sudden  Olness  iu  the  streets,  and 
with  vagrants. 

In  populous  districts  the  adjustment  of  street  traffic,  of  securing 
the  comfort  as  well  as  safety  of  persons  in  passing  to  and  fro, 
whether  on  foot  or  otherwise,  forms  a  very  important  branch  of  the 
constable's  duty.  This  may  be  and  often  is  effected  by  the  mere 
presence  of  the  constable  p.^ssing  on  his  round  without  gieater 
exercise  of  his  authority  than  a  request  to  persons  to  move  or  to 
wait  at  crossings.  Unless  in  crowded  parts,  this  higliway  branch 
of  duty  may  consist  in  preventing  riding  and  driving  furiously,  or 
on  footpaths.  The  general  or  local  laws  of  each  district  give  ample 
scope  for  the  exercise  of  the  police  constable's  authority  and  the 
performance  of  his  duties  in  such  matters,  including  obsti'uctions  of 
all  kinds. 

Ill  the  metropolitan  police  district  the  commissioner  has  large 
powers,  including  the  power  to  prescribe  ■  special  limits  in  tlie 
metropolis  within  which  some  acts  affecting  the  general  ease  and 
fi'eedom  of  the  public  are  forbidden  which  aie  innocent  elsewhere. 

On  the  police  almost  invariably  devolve  the  licensing  of  public  P'l'M'c 
carriages  and  the  enforcement  of  the  great  variety  of  regulations  *^*'^''"SC« 
respecting  them.     In  the  metropolitan  police  district  the  licensing 
of  public  carriages  is  vested  in  the  secretary  of  state,  who  makes 
numerous  regulations  respecting  the  caniages  and  their  drivers  and 
proprietors,  and  gives  (under  power  vested  in  him  by  the  legislature 
for  that  purpose)  the  administration  of  this  important  bi-ancli  of  the 
law  to  the  commissioner  of  police.     Elsewhere  in  Englanil  and  Wales 
the  administration  of  the  law  in  relation  to  hackney  carriages  is 
in  the  hands  of  local  authorities.     The  police  have  charge  of  the 
maintenance  of  good  order  in  houses  and  jilaces  licensed  for  the  Licsnsrid 
sale  of  intoxicating  liquors,  including  inquiries   and  notice  as  to  premises 
all   kinds   of   licences,  renewals,  and  transfers,  and  of  course  in- 
volving the  conduct  of  numerous  persons,  not  only  of  the  licensed 
persons  and  those  in  their  service,  but  of  persons  frequenting  theii' 
houses,  not  excepting  the  members  of  the  police  force. 

The  laws  and  regulations  for  common   lodging-houses  in  the  ReCTiiate* 
metropolis  are  under  the   police.      Other   traders    exercise   their  "■*"^^' 
constant  vigilance,  including  pawnbrokers,  marine-store  dealers 
pedlars,  and  chimney-sweepers. 

Among  almost  an  infinity  of  offences  may  be  enumerated  those  OHcnce* 
involving  cruelty  to  animals,  prize  fights  so  called,  and  all  descrip- 
tions of  unlawful  brawls  (including  brawling  in  places  of  public 
worship),  gaming,  gambling,  and  betting,  lotteries,  disorderly 
houses,  dangerous  performnnces,  the  infraction  of  fence  months 
and  seasons  for  birds  and  fish,  tlie  fraudulent  removal  of  goods, 
violations  of  cattle  plague  orders  (which  the  police  are  expressly 
required  to  observe  and  enforce,  involving  of  late  years  most 
arduous  duties),  and  tlic  sale  of  unwholosonie  food  and  of  poisons. 
The  police  have  also  to  deal  with  tho  care  and  keeping  of  explosive 
substances,  animals  straying,  and  dogs  reasonably  suspected  to  bo 
mad  or  not  under  proper  care. 

Some  public  olTences,  such  as  the  use  of  inaccurate  weights,  ad.uf- 
teration  of  articles  of  food,  kc,  are  generally  dealt  with  by  iu- 
spcctors  and  other  special  oflicei-s,  although  it  is  undoubtedly  tho 
duty  of  the  police  to  aid  in  enforcing  the  law,  and  to  report  to  the 
proper  quarter  offences  coming  to  their  knowledge.  In  the  metro- 
polis, smoke  nuisances  are  dealt  with  as  police  offences. 

Tlio  police  aid  the  inland  revenue  in  a  variety  of  waj-s,  and, 
although  it  is  generally  undesirable  for  the  police  to  take  part  in 
the  collection  or  enforcement  of  taxation,  they  are  required  in  the 
metropolitan  district,  by  order  of  the  secretary  of  state,  to  enforce 
as  far  as  lies  in  their  power  ilie  payment  of  the  dog  tax,  their  other 
duties  pving  them  gieater  knowledge  on  tho  subject. 

In  visiting  placcj  of  amusement  the  police  are  often  performing 
duties  of  a  multifarious  chanicter.  In  general  tho  one  object  is  the 
maintenance  of  good  order,  but  sometimes  tlie  observation  extends 
to  I  lie  chari\cter  of  tiie  amusement  and  tho  infringement  of  licences. 

Apart  IVom  the  special  duties  as  to  the  restoiation  of  pro|ierty 
left  or  lost  in  public  carriages,  or  with  reference  to  prisoners'  pro-] 
perty,  for  which  there  are  special  provisions,  the  police  exercise  a 
reasonable  r.ither  than  a  8()ecially  assigned  duty  in  facilitating  the 
recovery  of  lost  and  stray  property  by  tho  rightful  ownci-s. 

A  very  few  words  must  sullico  for  iiotioo  of  a  subject  which  has 
been  a  vexed  question  before  as  well  as  since  the  eatablishmcnt  of 
a  police  force  in  the  country,  and  down  to  tlio  present  moment — 
the  action  of  police  poweri  os  to  street  proslilntes.  Practically 
this  action  has  nearly  the  same  limits  throughout  England  nnd 
Wales.  In  the  metropolitan  police  district  and  in  tho  City  of 
London  it  is  an  offence  for  a  commou  prostitute  or  night-walker  to 


336 


POLICE 


loiter  or  to  be  in  a  public'  place  for  the  purpose  of  prostitution  or 
solicitation  to  the  annoyance  of  the  inhabitants  or  passengers. 
Elsewhere  the  offence  is  in  much  the  same  terms  included  in  the 
Police  of  Towns'  Clauses'  Act,  1847,  and  is  so  applied  to  all  urban 
authorities  under  the  Public  Health  Act,  1875.  In  the  practical 
application  of  the  law  it  is  generally  considered  that  there  must  bo 
some  evidence  of  a  personal  annoyance  by  and  to  one  or  more  persons 
to  justify  a  conviction. 

The  preceding  survey  of  some  of  the  multifarious  func- 
tions of  a  police  force  affords  an  illustration  of  Bentham's 
classification  of  the  business  of  police  into  distinct 
branches  : — police  for  the  prevention  of  offences ;  police 
for  the  prevention  of  calamities ;  police  for  the  prevention 
of  endemic  diseases ;  police  of  charity ;  police  of  interior 
communications ;  police  of  public  amusements ;  police  for 
recent  intelligence  and  information.  No  attempt,  hovf- 
ever,  is  made  in  the  present  article  to  follow  such  classifica- 
tion. It  would  lead  the  reader  astray,  where  the  object 
is  to  treat  principally  of  the  police  force. 
Area  of  As  to  the  defined  area  of  police  action,  for  general 
action,  purposes  the  legal  rights  and  powers  of  a  police  force 
(subject  to  the  observations  already  made)  are  coextensive 
with  the  police  district.  In  the  metropolitan  police  dis- 
trict the  members  of  the  force  have  the  powers  of  con- 
stables in  the  adjoining  counties  (10  Geo.  IV.  c.  44,  §  4; 
2  &  3  Vict.  c.  47,  §  5). 

The  determination  of  the  geographical  area  of  a  police 
district  is  necessarily  governed  by  a  variety  of  circum- 
stances. Physical  features  have  sometimes  to  be  taken 
into  account  as  affecting  the  demarcations  of  intercourse, 
more  frequently  the  occupations  of  the  people  and  the 
amount  of  the  population.  A  district  may  be  too  confined 
or  too  large  for  police  purposes.  The  limited  ideas  of 
simple-minded  rustics  of  a  former  generation  whose  views 
of  complete  independence  consisted  in  inhabiting  two 
adjacent  rooms  in  different  parishes,  so  as  to  effectually 
baffle  the  visits  of  parochial  officers,  is  probably  a  notion 
of  the  past ;  but  obstructions  of  a  like  kind  may  arise  from 
too  narrow  boundaries.  On  the  other  hand  dense  popula- 
tions or  long-accustomed  limits  may  outweigh  convenience 
arising  from  a  wide  area. 

In  any  case  the  making  of  altogether  new  boundaries 
merely  for  police  purposes  is  very  undesirable.  The 
county,  or  divisions  of  a  county  or  city,  or  the  combinatipn 
of  parishes,  ought  to  be  and  are  sufficient  for  determining 
the  boundaries  of  a  police  district.  A  boundary,  more- 
over, that  does  not  admit  of  ready  application  for  rating  is 
impracticable. 

In  England,  Wales,  and  Scotland,  with  the  exception  of  the 
metropolitan  police  district  and  the  area  of  the  City  of  London 
(geographically  included  within  but  distinct  from  it  in  police 
government),  the  police  districts  are  for  the  most  part  identical  in 
area  with  the  counties.  Large  towns  have  police  forces  distinct 
from  the  county  force  surrounding  them.  'There  are  290  police 
forces  in  the  island, — a  number  liable  to  frequent  variation,  as 
separate  forces  are  created  or  existing  forces  are  combined,  for  which 
Dowers  exist. 

By  far  the  largest  and  most  important  force,  as  regards  the  char- 
acter of  both  area  and  numbers,  is  that  of  the  metropolitan  police 
'district,  comprising  20  divisions.  The  total  number  of  the  police 
(including  of  course  the  county  constabulary)  for  England  and 
Wales  for  the  year  ending  29th  September  1883  was  34,488,  an 
increase  on  the  previous  year  of  1315.  During  the  last  decade  the 
increase  in  the  total  number  of  the  poUce,  allowing  for  the  aijg- 
mented  population,  is  tiifiiiig. 

The  following  are  the  numbers  composing  the  different  forces  in 
1882-83 :— 
In  boroughs  under  the  Municipal  Corporation  Act  and  under 

local  Acts 9,685 

In  counties  .11,255 

Metropolitan  police  constables,  including  royal  dockyards..  12,663 
City  of  London  .  •. 885 


Total 34,488 

The  total  gives  one  constable  for  every  774  of  the  population, 
according  to  the  census  of  1881.     In  boroughs,  &c.,  there  is  1  for 


every  758  ;  in  counties  1  for  1231  ;  in  the  metropolitan  police 
district  (deducting  807,  the  number  employed  in  royal  dockyards, 
and  446  paid  for  by  public  companies  and  private  individuals)  1 
for  every  413  ;  and  in  the  City  of  London  1  for  every  57  of  the 
City  population,  as  euumei-ated  on  the  night  of  the  census  of  1881. 
The  total  number,  exclusive  of  the  commissioner  and  assistant 
commissioners,  belonging  to  the  metropolitan  police  force  on  the 
1st  January  1884  was  12,404, — comprising  10,741  constables,  1028 
sergeants,  608  inspectors,  24  divisional  superintendents,  1  chief 
superintendent  (of  the  criminal  investigation  department),  and  2 
district  superintendents. 

The  strength  of  the  police  force  in  proportion  to  population 
varies  considerably  in  each  county  of  Scotland,  ranging  for  the  year 
ended  15th  March  1884  from  1  in.  731  in  Selkirk  to  1  in  2438  in 
Banff.  In  burghs  it  varies  from  1  in  532  in  Edinburgh  and  1  in 
535  in  Glasgow  to  only  1  in  upwards  of  1500  of  the  population  in 
the  smallest  burghs. 

The  strength  of  the  royal  Irish  constabulary  on  the  1st  July 
1882,  the  geographical  area  of  which  comprises  all  Ireland,  con- 
sisted of  258  officers  and  13,750  men,  and  it  was  subsequently 
increased  to  14,601  of  all  ranks. 

The  equal  distribution  of  the  force  throughout  a  district — 
not  a  uniform  distribution  either  as  to  area  or  population, 
but  equal  in  accordance  with  wants — is  one  of  the  greatest 
difficulties  in  the  administration  of  a  police  force.  It  is 
not  merely  that  recruits  must  be  sought  for  to  keep  pace 
with  increase  or  variations  of  population,  but  daily  and 
hourly  events  necessitate  'daily  and  hourly  changes  of  dis- 
tribution. The  duty  is  not  merely  to  draw  off  men  from 
adjacent  divisions  to  the  spot  for  a  few  hours,  where  they 
can  be  best  spared,  but  to  fill  places  where  required.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  extra  work  by  day  incapacitates 
men  for  the  night  watch,  and  it  takes  days  to  restore  the 
equilibrium.  It  is  needless  to  say  that,  although  the 
services  of  the  police  force  may  not  be  required  to  aid  in 
the  extinction  of  a  fire,  their  presence  is  required  in  great 
numbers  to  preserve  order ;  and  thus  men  are  necessarily 
kept  on  duty  beyond  their  prescribed  hours.  Nor,  in 
many  of  these  cases,  whether  foreseen  or  unforeseen,  ia 
the  distribution  of  the  force  self-adjusting.  Let  all  da 
what  they  may  in  aid  through  all  ranks  of  the  force,  in- 
equalities must'  occur ;  and  before  the  gaps  are  made  up  a 
fresh  displacement  occurs.  Much  may  be  done  and  is  done 
by  a  system  of  reserves',  and  by  averaging  the  yearly  extra 
calls  on  the  time  of  a  force ;  but  after  all  there  is  no 
perfect  equality.  The  peacefully  slumbering  citizen  may 
be  startled  by  the  announcement  that,  although  the  force 
of  the  metropolitan  police  district  has  been  under  anxious 
management  for  upwards  of  half  a  century,  on  no  two 
nights'  since  its  formation  have  the  beats  been  patrolled 
to  precisely  the  same  extent. 

■The  police  system  of  necessity  involves  the  existence  in 
a  district  of  police  stations  or  lock-ups,  for  the  temporary 
detention  of  prisoners  ;  and  magistrates  have  generallj 
the  power  to  remand  prisoners  to  these  for  short  periods. 
Power  to  make  police  sta.Jions  occasional  courts  of  sum- 
mary jurisdiction  has  been  recently  conferred  on  county 
magistrates.  A  police  power  of  admitting  arrested  persona 
to  bail  in  petty  cases,  with  a  corresponding  duty  to  exercise 
the  power,  is  vested  in  the  police  in  authority  at  stations. 
This  power  has  existed  throughout  the  metropolitan  police 
district  from  the  first  establishment  of  the  police  on  ita» 
present  footing,  and  also  in  the  City  of  London  and  in 
many  populous  places  under  local  Acts ;  and  the  principle 
has  been  recently  extended  to  the  country. 

The  selection  of  persons  for  the  force  is  a  matter  subject 
to  general  as  well  as  special  regulations,  varying  in  each 
district  according  to  circumstances  X>f  place  and  time. 
Testimonials  as  to  character  and  antecedents  should  be  and 
are  in  practice  always  required.  For  health  a  medical 
examination  is  enforced;  as  to' general  education,  reading 
and  writing  are  usualiy  required  ;  special  education  for 
police  duties  is  necessarily  unattainable  before  entry,  but 
in  the   metropolitan   police   force   of   England  approved 


POLICE 


337 


candidates  are  admitted  on  probation,  and  drilled.  When 
finally  aporoved  of,  on  admission  to  the  force  they  make 
a  declaration,  as  already  stated,  to  duly  serve. 

Discipline  is  enforced  by  dismissal,  reprimand,  fines, 
removal  to  another  division,  or  degradation  in  rank. 
Violation  or  neglect  of  duty  may  be  punished  by  summary 
conviction. 

For  the  detection  of  crime  and  offences  it  is  obviously 
necessary  that  some  members  of  the  force  should  perform 
their  duties  out  of  uniform.  Some  are  constantly  employed 
as  detectives,  others  doff  their  official  dress  on  emergencies. 
In  the  English  metropolis  the  detective  officers  form  a 
distinct  branch  of  the  police  service,  called  the  criminal 
investigation  department.  One  of  the  assistant  commis- 
sioners of  the  metropolitan  police  attends  specially  to  this 
department,  to  which  a  chief  superintendent  and  a  separate 
staff  of  inspectors  and  sergeants  are  attached,  having  an 
office  in  Scotland  Yard,  with  officers  of  the  department 
placed  in  the  divisions  of  the  district.  The  qualifications 
of  the  principal  officers  are  special,  and  they  are  selected 
for  their  aptitude,  knowledge  of  foreign  languages,  and 
a  variety  of  circumstances  rendering  the  application  of 
the  ordinary  ruutine°of  training  undesirable  and  imprac- 
ticable. Constables  and  sergeants  of  the  department  are 
selected  from  the  general  body  of  the  force.  Officers  of 
the  detective  department  of  the  metropolis  in  the  per- 
formance of  their  various  duties  travel  all  over  the  globe, 
to  foreign  states  as  well  as  to  the  colonies.  The  number 
of  detective  officers  in  England  and  Wales  for  1882-83 
was  551. 
ief  The  chiefs  of  the  metropolitan  police  force  are  the  com- 

•are.  missioner  and  three  assistant  commissioners,  one  acting 
in  place  of  a  director  of  criminal  investigations,  who  has 
recently  retired.  A  legal  adviser  to  the  commissioners 
is  appointed  •  by  the  secretary  of  state.  Besides  the 
divisional  superintendents,  there  are  now  two  district 
superintendents,  who  visit  the  whole  of  the  divisions.  All 
promotions  in  the  service  up  to  the  rank  of  superintend- 
ent are  made  from  the  next  rank  below.  When  vacancies 
occur  the  rule  is  to  recommend  to  the  commissioner  those 
best  qualified  in  all  respects,  seniority  of  service  being  duly 
considered ;  but  an  educational  examination  by  the  civil 
service  commisuioners  is  requisite.  A  different  standard 
and  subject  of  examination  is  provided  for  each' rank  : — 
(I)  constables  for  sergeants;  (2)  sergeants  for  inspectors; 
(3)  inspectors  for  superintendents. 
tara.  Orders  having  the  approval  of  the  secretary  of  state  for 
the  government  of  the  police  of  the  metropolis  in  a  variety 
of  matters  are  printed  and  issued  daily  throughout  Uw 
district.  The  majority  of  these  orders  relate  to  incidents 
and  contingencies  of  the  passing  hour,  and  affect  particular 
divisions ;  others  are  of  a  permanent  character  and  require 
attention  throughout  the  district.  Such  orders  form  the 
practice  of  the  police  in  almost  all  matters  of  detail  cither 
not  specifically  regulated  by  Act  of  Parliament  or  requiring 
B.xplanation  and  elucidation ;  and,  if  they  are  carefully 
considered  and  prepared,  their  issue  must  produce  a  uniform 
code  of  police  procedure  for  the  force. 

The  cost  of  a  police  system  is  defrayed  from  a  fund 
formed  by  local  rates  or  by  imperial  funds,  or  both,  and 
in  part  by  the  appropriation  of  fines  and  the  fees  payable 
by  law  in  respect  of  the  performance  of  individual  duties, 
but  not  permitted  to  bo  retained  by  the  performer.  This 
fund  is  collected  and  expended  through  the  medium  of  a 
receiver,  treasurer,  or  other  officer,  and  a  staff  of  clerks, 
with  the  aid  of  the  superintendents,  inspectors,  and  police 
officers.  The  regulation  and  amount  of  the  .salaries  (which 
are  generally  paid  weekly  or  monthly  according  to  the 
class),  depend  of  course  on  local  and  other  circumstances, 
but  do  not    vary  frequently.     Where    agriculture  is   the 

ly— 14 


general  occupation  the  pay  of  members  of  the  force  is 
low.  Where  mining  and  manufactures  compete  with  agri- 
culture it  is  higher;  where  they  are  the  principal  business 
they  create  a  demand  for  labour  which  raises  the  salary 
of  the  constable  as  well  as  those  of  other  workers.  The 
pay  of  the  constables  of  the  metropolitan  district  varies 
from  £C2,  lis.  6d.  toX83,  8s.  7d.  per  annum,  that  of  the 
sergeants  from  X88,  12s.  lid.  to  £146,  of  the  inspectors 
from  £88,  12s.  lid.  to  £351,  19s.  4d.  The  metropolitan 
police  constable  is  subject  to  deductions  for  pension,  and 
he  contributes  on  the  average  about  2d.  a  week  to  gratui- 
ties for  the  widows  or  orphans  of  comrades  who  have 
recently  died,  .and  is  under  a  rent  of  about  Ss.  6d.  if 
single  and  living  out  of  the  section  house,  and  about  6s.  6d. 
a  week  if  married.  Analogous  conditions  exist  in  all  the 
great  city  forces.  The  Liverpool  constable  begins  witli 
26s.  8d.  a  week ;  8d.  a  week  is  deducted  at  first,  and  lOd. 
after  a  short  period,  towards  pension  fund  ;  an  average  of 
4s.  a  week  is  spent  on  the  lodgings  of  a  single,  and  from 
5s.  6d.  to  7s.  6d.  on  those  of  a  mai-ried  man.  Model 
scales  of  pay  which  were  suggested  by  the  secretary  of 
state  in  1879  have  been  adopted  by  several  county  force-i 
in  Scotland,  but  not  in  burghs. 

In  addition  to  fixed  salaries,  the  police  system  generally 
provides  for  rewards  for  extraordinary  diligence  and 
gratuities  out  of  the  police  fund.  Gifts  or  payments  to 
individual  officers  by  private  persons  ought  to  be  con-i 
trolled  in  a  well-regulated  system,  where  good  conduct 
and  vigilance  ought  to  be  closely  watched  to  ensure  prch 
motion  in  due  time.  Specially  meritorious  acts,  however, 
are  sometimes  admitted  for  pecuniary  recognition  by 
magistrates,  or  representative  bodies.  In  England  the 
police  are  not  now  permitted  to  participate  in  Governmenfr 
or  other  rewards  for  the  discovery  of  crime.  Provision 
is  almost  invariably  made  for  pensions  by  a  fund  formed 
by  a  scale  of  deductions  from  pay,  as  already  stated,  and 
to  some  extent  by  fines.  The  general  subject  of  super- 
annuation is,  however,  too  largo  to  bo  entered  upon  here. 
For  the  ordinary  services  of  the  police  within  their  local 
jurisdiction  no  charge  should  fall  on  particular  persona 
who  happen  to  derive  special  advantage  from  such  police 
duty.  It  is  a  general  benefit  for  which  in  one  form  or 
another  the  inhabitants  are  taxed. 

Other  incidental  expenditure  in  the  performance  of 
duties  is  met  in  various  ways.  The  heavy  cost  connected 
with  the  conveyance  of  prisoners  to  and  from  prison  on 
committal  and  remand  is  in  England,  except  in  Middlesex, 
borne  by  the  state,  being  paid  by  the  prison  commissioners. 
The  preliminary  cost  attending  the  arrest  in  the  first 
instance  is  generally  borno  by  the  police  fund.  In  some 
exceptional  cases  where  the  police  perform  special  duties 
beyond  their  district,  the  cost  is  thrown  on  individuals 
putting  the  law  in  motion.  Thus  the  costs  incurred  under 
extradition  treaties  and  under  the  Fugitive  Offenders'  Act 
in  following  criminals  and  bringing  them  back  within  the 
jurisdiction  for  trial  where  the  offence  was  committed 
or  arose  are  not  expressly  provided  for  by  statute  ;  but 
the  regulations  laid  down  by  the  secretary  of  state  require 
all  costs  to  bo  paid  by  applicants  in  the  case  of  fugitive 
offenders. 

The  police  have  special  j'owers  in  furtherance  of  their 
duties ;  oven  the  exemption  from  toll  (not  now  of  general 
value)  has  that  aspect.  They  are  not  only  exempted  but 
disqualified  from  various  local  offices  as  interfering  witb 
the  time  and  attention  required  for  the  full  performance 
of  their  duties.  Rules  of  the  service  generally  forbid  ton- 
stables  following  any  trade  or  occupation  of  profit  even 
when  not  on  actual  duty,  and  in  the  metropolitan  police 
district  of  London  this  disqualification  extends  in  practicu 
to  their  wives.     The  police  are  protected  in  the  di.-,charj/oof 


338 


POLICE 


Arms. 


Tearly 
cost. 


their  duties  in  a  variety  of  ways.  Assaulting,  resisting, . 
or  wilfully  obstructing  a  peace  officer  in  the  due  execu- 
tion of  his  duty  or  any  person  acting  in  aid  of  such 
officer,  and  assaults  with  intent'.to  resist  or  prevent  lawful 
apprehension  or  detainer,  are  punishable  summarily  as  well 
as  upon  indictment.  Refusing  to  assist  a  constable  in 
the  execution  of  his  duty  in  order  to  preserve  the 
peace  is  an  indictable  misdemeanour  at  common  law. 
The  law  specially  provides  for  offences  by  the  police 
in  stealing  or  embezzling  property  entrusted  to  them  in 
virtue  of  their  employment  (24  &  25  Vict.  c.  96,  ^  69, 

Wearing  a  distinctive  dress  or  uniform  in  the  general 
performance  of  duty  is  a  matter  of  the  highest  import- 
ance. It  commands  and  has  a  very  great  effect  in  produc- 
ing obedience  and  conformity  to  law  and  order,  and  in 
preventing  violence,  without  the  use  of  even  a  word  or 
threat ;  and  it  has  a  scarcely  less  important  effect  in  pro- 
tecting the  public  from  the  illegal  or  irregular  action  of 
the  police  when  on  duty,  when  the  dress  involves,  as  it 
ordinarily  does,  the  exhibition  on  its  exterior  of  a  letter 
and  number. 

The  extent  to  which  the  individual  members  of  a  police 
force  are  allowed  or  required  to  be  armed  when  on  duty 
for  the  enforcement  of  the  kw  or  for  their  owri  protection 
from  violence  is  a  matter  of  important  discretion ;  for, 
although  the  principles  of  law,  entailing  or  withholding 
the  right  of  peace  officers  or  private  persons  to  employ 
weapons  of  offence,  are  comparatively  well-defined,  the 
emergency  depends  on  a  variety  of  circumstances  on  which 
it  is  extremely  difficult  for  heads  of  forces  to  make  regula- 
tions for  the  guidance  of  the  men.  In  general  the  only 
weapon  carried  about  the  person  of  a  police  constable  is 
the  familiar  wooden  staff  of  office  of  the  peace  officer,  and 
that  not  in  the  hands  openly,  but  in  a  sheath  at  his  side 
and  only  drawn  when  required. 

The  cost  of  the  police  in  England  and  Wales  for  the  year 
ending  29th  September  1883,  including  salaries  and  pay, 
allowances,  clothing  and  accoutrements,  horses,  harness, 
forage,  buildings,  station-house  charges,  printing,  station- 
ery, and  other  miscellaneous  charges  was  ^3,367,678,  a 
net  increase  of  .£107,598  as  compared  with  the  previous 
year.  The  cost  of  the  separate  forces  for  the  year  and 
the  amounts  contributed  from  the  public  revenue  stand 
thus : — 


Borough  police 

Total  Cliarge. 

Contributed  from 
Public  Revenue. 

£857,863 
1,101,621 

1,317,303 

90,891 

£379,210 
435,133 

508.183 

County 

Metropolitan  police  (including  1 
naval  dockyards  and  military  > 
stations) ) 

City  of  London 

TotaL 

£3,367,678 

£1,322,526 

Deducting  the  City  of  London  police,  towards  which  no 
sontribution  is  paid  from  the  public  revenue,  the  propor- 
tion of  the  amount  so  contributed  was  39-5.  But  if  the 
total  charge  for  the  metropolitan  police  is  reduced  by 
^131,560  received  from  public  departments  for  special 
services  rendered  by  the  police,  the  proportion  contributed 
from  the  public  revenue,  computed  upon  £1,185,743,  was 
42'8  per  cent.  All  moneys  received  for  the  service  of  the 
metropolitan  police  between  1st  April  1883  and  the  31st 
March  1884  amounted  to  £1,469,930,  4s.  5d.  Of  this 
total  the  sum  of  £639,751,  7s.  4d.  was  derived  from  the 
metropolitan  police  rate,  and  £510,933  as  the  contribution 
from  moneys  voted  by  parliament  of  4d.  per  £1  upon 
£30,663,903,  the  assee;;cd  rental  of  property  in  the  metro- 
politan police  district.      The  pay,  clothing,  and   equip- 


ments of  the  force  from  constables  to  superintendents  Wri^i 
£1,024,587,  13s.  .9d. 

In  concluding  this  general  account  of  the  existing 
police  system,  it  is  well  to  mention  that  the  old  system  of 
parish  constables  no  longer  exists  as  a  general  institution. 
As  an  auxiliary  force,  although  not  forming  part  of  the 
establishment  of  a  police  system,  special  constables  form 
r.n  important  resource  in  the  preservation  of  the  peace 
(see  Constable). 

History  of  the  Introduction  of  the  British  Police  System. 
— It  is  a  self-evident  proposition  that  the  duties  of  watch 
and  ward,  whether  under  the  Statute  of  Winchester  or 
otherwise  (see  Constable),  demanded  greater  attention 
in  populous  places  than  in  scattered  hamlets.  Neverthe- 
less the  inefficiency  of  the  arrangements  was  notorious 
from  an  early  period,  and  is  well  illustrated  by  the 
"  charge  "  of  a  Dogberry  and  the  graver  complaints  of 
Lord  Burleigh  of  the  dulness  of  constables.  In  relation 
to  London  alone  its  state  down  to  1828  forms  a  subject  not 
without  general,  interest  (see  London).  Here  it  must  suffice 
tosajthat  committees  of  the  House  of  Commons  in  1772, 
1793,  1812,  1817,  1818,  and  1822  produced  facts  tending 
to  the  formation,  but  with  hesitation,  of  a  police  establish- 
ment. To  Dr  Colquhoun,  a  magistrate,  the  chief  merit  is 
due  of  having,  before  the  close  of  the  18th  century,  in  a 
treatise  On  the  Police  of  the  llelropolis,  drawn  attention 
to  the  subject.  He  pointed  out  that  police  in  England 
may  be  considered  as  a  new  science,  the  properties  of 
which  consist,  not  in  the  judicial  powers  which  lead  to 
punishment,  and  which  belong  to  magistrates  alone,  but 
in  the  prevention  and  detection  of  crimes,  and  in  those 
other  functions  which  relate  to  internal  regulations  for  the 
well-ordering  and  comfort  of  civil  society.  His  work  went 
through  several  editions  in  a  very  brief  period.  It  was 
not,  however,  until  1828  that  a  committee  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  appointed  at  the  instance  of  Mr  (afterwards  Sir 
Robert)  Peel,  the  home  secretary,  to  inquire  into  the  cause 
of  the  increase  in  the  number  of  commitments  and  convic- 
tions in  London  and  Middlesex,  and  into  the  state  of  the 
police  of  the  metropolis  and  of  the  districts  adjoining,  re- 
ported that  a  decisivechange  should  be  made,  and  an  efficient 
system  of  police  instituted  for  the  adequate  protection  of 
property,  and  for  the  prevention  and  detection  of  crime 
in  the  metropolis.  In  the  following  year  the  famous  Act 
for  improving  the  police  in  and  near  the  metropolis  was 
passed  (10  Geo.  IV.  c.  44). 

The  Act  constituted  a  police  district,  excluding  the  City 
of  London,  with  a  radius  of  12  miles.  Two  persons  were 
constituted  justices  of  the  peace  (afterwards  called  com- 
missioners of  police)  to  administer  the  Act  under  the 
immediate  direction  of  a  secretary  of  state,  and  having  a 
police  office  in  Westminster.  This  office,  established  in  a 
room  ■R'ith  a,  table  and  two  chairs,  in  an  outlet  from 
Whitehall,  is  the  origin  (as  regards  police  associations) 
of  the  far-famed  "  Scotland  Yard,"  with  its  now  enlarged 
staff,  but  still  inadequate  structural  arrangements.  A 
sufficient  number  of  "  able  men  "  (at  first  about  3000) 
constituted  the  force  to  whom  were  given,  when  sworn  in, 
the  common  law  powers,  privileges,  and  duties  of  con- 
stables for  preserving  the  peace  and  preventing  robberies 
and  other  felonies,  and  apprehending  offenders  against  the 
peace,  with  the  duty  to  obey  the  lawful  commands  of  the. 
commissioners.  The  district  was  formed  into  divisions 
and  sections,  and  ranks  established  on  the  same  general 
system  as  at  present  exists.  A  fund  was  created  princi- 
pally by  rates  on  the  district  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
force,  with  rewards  for  extraordinary  diligence  and  com- 
pensation for  injuries. 

As  might  have  been  anticipated,  the  introduction  of  the 
new  system  of  police  attracted  great  public  attention.      At 


f  O  L  I  C  E 


33S 


this  distance  of  time,  with  the  experience  of  an  intervening 
Lah"  century,  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  the  change  by 
which  the  police  system  became  in  a  few  years  as  much  a 
necessity  of  towns  as  their  public  lighting  (and  lighting 
and  watching  -were  of  much  the  same  age  and  character, 
and  were  frequently  coupled  in  legislation)  was  regarded 
othe^^vise  than  with  the  approval  of  well-regulated  minds. 
It  substituted  the  vigorous  action  of  a  really  responsible 
and  well-regulated  body,  acting  in  an  enlarged  area,  and 
independently  of  parochial  authorities,  for  the  partial  and 
lax  action  of  a  variety  of  ill-governed  and  inadequate  bodies. 
Legitimate  tut  passing  regrets  might  be  satural  as  the 
introduction  of  vicarious  action  superseded  the  necessity 
for  self  help  and  responsibility.  No  poet  could  thereafter 
compose,  as  a  sally  of  fancy,  the  adventures  of  a  London 
citizen  between  Cheapside  and  Edmonton  mounted  on  a 
runaway  horse  with  associated  gentlemen  galloping  after  a 
presumed  horsestealer.  To  arrest  the  horse,  whether  a 
■runaway  or  stolen,  only  a  blue-coated  policeman  would 
thenceforward  be  seen  on  the  track.  The  objections  raised 
to  the  new  police  were  of  a  more  serious  although  scarcely 
of  a  more  substantial  kind.  The  assumption  that  a  good 
police  could  'only  bo  attained  at  the  expense  of  liberty, 
and  that  it  necessarily  involved  some  arbitrary  principle 
opposed  to  the  free  constitution  of  the  country,  had  been 
countenanced  even  by  the  report  of  the  committee  of 
1822,  ill  which  it  was  remarked  that  it  was  difficult  to 
reconcile  an  effective  system  of  police  with  that  perfect 
freedom  of  action  and  exemption  from  interference  which 
are  the  great  privileges  and  blessings  of  society  in  the 
country.  '  With  such  sedate  misgivings,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  when- the  system  was  actually  introduced  a 
few  years  later,  that  cries  arose  in  the  streets  of  "  dowm 
with  the  new  police,"  and  that  the  constables  were  fre- 
quently followed  by  hooting  crowds  calling  them  obnoxious 
names.  By  associating  them  with  the  statesman  who 
introduced  the  measure,  and  calling  them  "  Peelers  "  and 
"Bobbies,"  names  perpetuated  to  the  present  day  and 
apparently  likely  to  last,  a  compliment  was  really  paid  to 
the  minister  and  to  the  force.  But  at  that  time  Peel  was 
attacked  in  parliament  and  suspicion  thrown  on  the  Act 
because  the  same  minister  had  introduced  Roman  Catholic 
emancipation. 

Within  foifr  years,  of  the  establishment  of  the  police 
force  the  hostility  seems-  to  have  culminated.  It  was 
evinced  by  the  result  of  a  collision  between  the  police  and 
a  meeting  of  Chartists  in  Coldbath  Fields  in  May  1833, 
in  which  three  police  officers  were  stabbed  and  one  killed 
with  a  dagger.  At  the  inquest  the  coroner's  jury  returned 
a  verdict  of  "justifiable  homicide,"  in  the  teeth  of  the 
evidence.  The  crown  thereupon  adopted  the  strong  but 
justifiable  course  of  applying  to  the  Court  of  King's 
Bench,  and  the  inquisition  was  quashed.  Committees 
were  appointed  by  the  House  of  Commons  to  inquire  into 
the  circumstances  of  the  meeting,  and  also  regarding  an 
allegation  of  inhabitants  of  the  Surrey  side  that  policemen 
were  employed  as  spies,  and  a  third  committee  was  appointed 
to  inquire  into  the  state  of  the  police  and  crime  in  the 
district.  The  police  system  and  the  force  as  a  whole  came 
yout  with  credit,  notwithstanding  individual  instances  of 
undue  exercise  of  power  calling  for  greater  control. 

There  was  no 'hesitation  as  to  the  duty  of  maintaining 
the  principle  of  the  new  83'stem,  and  the  popular  hostility 
gradually  died  away.  After  intermediate  parliamentary 
reports  and  legislation  by  way  of  extension,  an  important 
Act  was  passed  in  1839,  reciting  that  the  system  .of  police 
established  had  been  found  very  efficient  and  might  be  yet 
further  improved  (i  ik  3  V'ict.  c.  47).  The  metropolitan 
jiolice  district  was  extended  to  15  miles  from, Charing 
Cro.-s.     The  whole  of  the  lliver  Thames  (which  had  been 


in  its  course  through  London,  so  far  as  related  to  police 
matters,  managed  under  distinct  Acts)  was  brought  within 
it,  and  the  collateral  but  not  exclusive  powers  of.  the 
metropolitan  police  were  extended  to  the  royal  palaces  and 
10  miles  around,  and  to  the  counties  adjacent  to  the  dis- 
trict. Various  summary,  powers  for  dealing  w»ith  street 
and  other  offences  were  conferred. 

At  the  same  time  that  the  police  were  put  on  a  more 
complete  footing  and  the  area  enlarged,  provision  was 
made  for  the  more  effectual  administration  of  justice  by 
the  magistrates  of  the  metropolis  (2  i  3  Vict.  c.  71).  The 
changes  .that  occurred  in  magisterial  functions  are  scarcely 
less  remarkable  than  the  transition  from  the  parish  con- 
stable to  the  organized  police.  The  misdirected  activity 
of  the  civil  magistrate  in  the  17th  century  is  illustrated  by 
the  familiar  literature  of  Butler,  Bunyan,  and  others.  The 
zeal  of  that  age  was  succeeded  by  apathetic  reaction,  and 
it  became  necessary  in  the  metropolis  to  secure  the  services 
of  paid  justices.  The  malpractices  of  the  so-called  "  trad- 
ing justices "  of  the  18th  century  are  described  and 
exposed  for  all  time  by  Fielding,  who  honourably  per- 
formed the  duties  of  justice  of  the  peace  for  Middlesex 
and  V/estminster.  At  the  beginning  of  the  19th  century 
outside  of  the  City  of  London  (where  magisterial  duties 
were,  as  now,  performed  by  the  lord  mayor  and  aldermen) 
there  were  various  public  offices  besides  the  Bow  Street 
and  the  Thames  police  offices,  where  magistrates  attended. 
To  the  Bow  Street  office  was  subsequently  attached  the 
"  horse  patrol,"  and  each  of  the  police  offices  had  a  fixed 
number  of  constables  attached  to  it,  and  the  Thames  police 
had  an  establishment  of  constables  and  surveyors.  The 
horse  patrol  was  in  1836,  as  previously  intended,  placed 
under  the  new  police.  It  became  desirable  that  the  horse 
patrol  and  constables  allotted  to  the  several  police  offices 
not  interfered  with  by  the  Act  of.  1828  should  be  incor- 
porated with  the  metropolitan  police  force.  This  was 
effected,  and  thus  magisterial  functions  were  completely 
separated  from  the  duties  of  the  executive  poli(je;  for, 
although  the  jurisdiction  of  the  two  justices,  afterwards 
called  commissioners,  as  magistrates  extended  to  ordinary 
duties  (except  at  courts  of  general  or  quarter  sessions),  from 
the  first  they  did  not  take  any  part  in  the  examination  or 
committal  for  trial  of  persons  charged  with  offences.  No 
persons  were  brought  before  them.  Their  functions  weio 
in  practice  confined  to  the  discipline  of  the  force  and  the 
prevention  and  detection  of  offences,  by  having  persons 
arrested  or  summoned  to  be  dealt  with  by  the  ordinary 
magistrates  whose  courts  wore  not  interfered  with. 

Important  alterations  have  been  made  since  1839  in  the 
arrangements  affecting  the  metropolitan  police.  In  1856 
one  commissioner  and  two  assistant  commissioners  were  sub- 
stituted for  two  commissioners,  and  a  third  assistant-coi..- 
missioner  has  now  (1884)  been  added.  In  18G6  jurisdic- 
tion was  given  to  the  metropolitan  police  in  the  royal 
naval  dock  yards  and  principal  military  stations  of  the 
war  department  in  England  and  Wales,  and  within  15 
miles,  with  the  restriction  that  the  powers  and  privilegoa 
of  the  constables  of  the  metropolitan  police  when  without 
the  yards,  naval  and  marine  hospitals  and  infirmaries,  and 
marine  barracks  or  stations,  and  not  on  board  or  in  any 
ship,  vessel,  or  boat  belonging  to  the  queen  or  in  her 
service,  shall  only  bo  used  in  respect  of  the  property  of 
the  crown  or  of  persons  subject  to  naval  or  marine  or 
military  disciiiline  (23  &.  24  Vict.  c.  135). 

Under  this  Act  the  metropolitan  police  exorcise  jurisdic- 
tion and  perform  duties  extending  from  Chatham  on  the 
east  and  Dover  and  Portsmouth  on  the  south  to  Devonport, 
Portsmouth,  and  Pembroke  on  the  west,  and  of  course 
including  Aldershot.  The  expenses  incurred  are  defrayed 
by  jiarliuniciit. 


340 


P  0  L  I  C  E 


Connected  with  the  last-mentioned  Act,  and  in  conse- 
quence of  it,  has  been  the  exercise  for  eighteen  years  by 
the  metropolitan  police  of  the  powers  of  the  Contagious 
Diseases  Act,  1866,  and  the  medical  examination  of  women 
under  it, — a  much  debated  and  warmly  contested  power. 
The  refusal  in  1883  by  the  House  of  Commons  to  provide 
money  for  the  expenses  of  the  Act  led  to  the  discontinu- 
ance of  action  by  the  metropolitan  police  under  it. 

The  Metropolitan  Streets  Act,  1867,  for  regulating  the 
traffic  in-the  metropolis,  and  for  making  provision  for  the 
greater  security  of  persons  passing  through  the  streets  and 
for  other  purposes,  gives  great  discretionary  power  to  the 
commissioner  of  police  whether  of  the  metropolis  or  of  the 
City  of  London,  in  relation  to  prescribing  special  limits, 
■with  the  approval  of  a  secretary  of  state,  within  which 
regulations  to  prevent  obstructions  in  the  streets  (without 
interfering  with  other  powers)  may  be  made  and  enforced. 
Apart  from  the  special  limits,  general  regulations  are  pre- 
scribed as  to  hackney  carriages,  stray  dogs,  and  various 
other  matters. 

As  already  observed,  the  Acts  noticed  as  to  the  metro- 
politan police  district  did  not  apply  to  the  City  of  London, 
which  was  and  is  left  as  an  island  surrounded  by  the 
metropolis.  The  nightly  watch  and  "  bedels  "  within  the 
City  were  regulated,  and  rates  imposed  for  the  purpose,  in 
the  reign  of  George  II.  In  1839,  on  the  same  day  that 
the  Act  of  Parliament  passed  with  respect  to  the  metro- 
politan police,  a  corresponding  Act  was  passed  for  the  City 
of  London  and  a  salaried  commissioner  of  the  police  for 
the  City  and  its  liberties  appointed  By  the  common  council. 
The  power  to  make  regulations  relative  to  the  general 
government  of  the  police  is  vested  in  the  commissioner, 
subject  to  the  approbation  of  the  mayor  and  aldermen  and 
a  secretary  of  state.  In  case  of  emergency  the  secretary  of 
state  may,  at  the  request  of  the  lord  mayor,  authorize  the 
metropolitan  police  to  act  within  the  City  of  London  under 
the  command  of  their  own  officers,  and  on  the  other  hand 
the  lord  mayor  may,  at  the  request  of  the  secretary  of  state, 
in  the  like  emergency,  authorize  the  City  police  to  act  under 
their  own  officers  within  the  metropolitan  police  district. 
The  Act  gives  various  special  powers  as  to  offences  cor- 
responding with  the  Metropolitan  Pohce  Act  of  1839.  It 
provides  for  a  police  rate,  and  the  corporation  is  required 
to  pay  out  of  its  revenues  a  fourth  part  of  the  expenses  of 
the  police  force.-  No  rated  person  is  liable  to  any  watch  or 
ward  by  virtue  of  the  Statute  of  Winchester  (13  Edw.  I.), 
and  the  ancient  custom  of  electing  ward  constables  is  sus- 
pended. 

In  the  article  London  (vol.  xiii.  p.  834)  some  statistics 
are  given  as  to  the  police  courts  of  the  metropolis,  and  the 
state  of  crime  and  the  proportion  of  police  to  the  popula- 
tion under  the  last  census. 

In  considering  the  introduction  of  the  police  system  into 
the  rest  of  England,  it  is  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  in- 
many  towns  and  places  an  organized  system  of  watching 
by  paid  officers,  whether  constables,  watchmen,  or  police, 
was  established  by  local  Acts  of  Parliament,  at  various 
dates,  but  especially  in  the  early  part  of  the  present 
century. 

An  attempt  at  a  paid  county  force  was  made  in  1829 
(in  the  same  year  with  the  Metropolitan  Police  Act),  but 
not  on  corresponding  lines,  by  a  local  Act  to  enable  the 
magistrates  of  the  county  palatine  of  Chester  to  appoint 
special  high  constables  and  assistant  petty  constables  (10 
Geo.  rV.  c.  97).  Ih  1830,  and  again  three  years  later, 
provision  was  made  to  facilitate  voluntary  lighting  and 
watching  parishes  throughout  England  and  Wales.  In 
1835  the  regulation  of  municipal  corporations  included 
power  (since  renewed)  to  appoint,  by  a  watch  committee, 
jgpnstables  called  "  watchmen  "  paid  by  a  watch  rate. 


Great  facilities  having  been  given  by  the  legislature  lor 
the  appointment  of  special  constables  (an  auxiliary  else- 
where noticed),  provision  was  made  in  1839  for  the 
appointment  of  county  paid  constables  where  the  ordinary 
officers  for  preserving  the  peace  were  insufficient  for  that 
purpose  and  for  the  protection  of  the  inhabitants  and  for 
the  security  of  property  within  the  county.  The  number 
recommended  (not  exceeding  one  man  for  every  thousand 
of  the  inhabitants,  after  deducting  corporate  boroughs 
already  provided  for,  a  restriction  in  after  years  removed 
from  the  statute  book)  and  the  rates  of  payment  were' 
required  to  be  reported  to  the  secretary  of  state,  who  made 
and  laid  before  parliament  rules  for  the  government,  pay, 
clothing,  accoutrements,  and  necessaries  of  such  constables; 
and  thereupon  the  justices  appointed,  subject  to  the 
approval  of  the  secretary  of  state,  a  chief  constable,  who 
had  the  appointment,  -control,  and  disposition  (subject  to 
the  approval  of  the  justices)  of  the  other  constables,  and 
a  deputy  and  superintendent  to  be  at  the  head  of  the  con- 
stables in  each  division  of  the  county.  On  these  constables 
were  conferred  all  the  powers  and  duties  of  constables  by 
the  common  law  or  statute. 

At  first  the  salaries  and  allowances  and  expenses  of  the 
Act  were  paid  out  of  the  county  rate  (2  &  3  Vict.  c.  93), 
but  in  the  following  year  (1840)  the  Act  was  amended 
and  extended,  and  a  separate  police  rate  levied  in  the 
county.  Provision  was  at  the  same  time  made  for  a 
superannuation  fund  and  for  "  station  houses  and  strong 
rooms,"  and  for  consolidating  the  police  of  a  borough  with 
the  county ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  as  the  number  of  eon- 
stables  needed  may  be  different  in  different  parts  of  the 
same  county,  it  might  be  divided  into  police  districts,  each 
district  paying  for  its  own  constables.  Power  is  given  to 
the  chief  constable  to  appoint  (with  the  approval  of  the 
justices)  additional  constables  at  the  cost  of  individuals, 
but  subject  to  the  orders  of  the  chief  constable. 

In  1842  an  important  statute  was  passed  enacting  that 
for  the  future  no  appointment  of  a  petty  constable,  head- 
borough,  borsholder,  tithing  man,  or  peace  officer  of  the 
like  description  should  be  made  for  any  parish  at  any 
court  leet,  except  for  purposes  unconnected  with  the  pre- 
servation of  the  peace,  and  providing,  as  a  means  of 
increasing  the  security  of  persons  and  property,  for  the 
appointment  by  justices  of  the  peace  in  divisional  petty 
sessions  of  fit  persons  or  their  substitutes  to  act  as  con- 
stables in  the  several  parishes  of  England,  and  giving 
vestries  an  optional  power  of  providing  paid  constables. 
The  justices  in  quarter  sessions  were  empowered  to  provide 
lock-up  houses  for  the  confinement  of  persons  taken  into 
custody  by  any  constable  and  not  yet  committed  for  trial, 
or  in  execution  of  any  sentence,  or  instead  to  appropriate 
for  that  purpose  existing  lock-up  houses,  strong  rooms,  or 
cages  belonging  to  any  parish  (5  &  6  Vict.  c.  109).  Con- 
stables appointed  under  this  Act  were  made  subject  to  the 
authority  of  the  chief  constable  or  superintendent,  if  any, 
appointed  under  the  Act  of  1839. 

Under  the  Acts  of  1839  and  1840  the  establishment  of 
a  paid  county  police  force  was  optional  with  the  justices. 
After  a  further  interval  of  fifteen  years  it  was  foupd 
expedient,  for  the  more  effectual  prevention  and  detection 
of  crime,  suppression  of  vagrancy,  and  maintenance  of 
good  order,  that  further  provision  should  be  made  for 
securing  an  efficient  police  force  throughout  England  and 
Wales,  and  the  previous  optional  power  became  compulsory 
(the  Police  Act,  1856).  In  every  county  in  which  a  con- 
stabulary had  not  been  already  established  undw-  the 
previous  Acts  for  the  whole  of  the  county,  the  justices  in 
quarter  sessions  were  required  to  proceed  to  establish  a 
sufficient  police  force  for  the  whole  of  the  county  and  ^ 
consolidate   divisions   so  aa  to  form  one  generaLcoMLty 


POLICE 


341 


police  establishment; — subject,  however,  to  the  power  by 
the  queen  in  council  to  require  the  justices  to  form 
separate  police  districts,  as  provided  for  in  the  earlier  Acts. 
The  privy  council  might  arrange  terms  of  consolidation  of 
a  borough  police  with  the  county. 

In  1869  provision  was  made  for  the  abolition  of  the  old 
office  of  high  constable  (the  High  Constables  Act,  18G9); 
and,  the  establishment  of  an  efficient  police  having  also 
rendered  the  general  appointment  of  parish  constables 
unnecessary,  the  appointment  ceased,  subject  to  the 
.appointment  by  vestries  of  paid  constables  who  aro  subject 
to  the  chief  constable  of  the  county  (the  Parish  Constables 
Act,  1872).  Thus  under  combined  provisions  the  police 
aystem  was  established  and  has  since  continued  through- 
out England. 

In  Scotland  legislation  for  a  system  of  police  began  early  in 
the  century  by  local  Acts  for  Edinburgh  and  Glasgow,  some  con- 
taining provisions  of  great  importance.  The  police  of  towns  and 
ropulous  places  is  now  regulated  chiefly  by  the  General  Police  and 
raprovement  (Scotland)  Act,  1862,  and  the  county  police  by  an 
Act  of  1857  (20  &  21  Vict.  c.  72),  under  which  counties  are  formed 
into  police  districts.  Some  details  of  the  government,  numbers, 
and  cost  have  been  already  given. 

The  police  in  Ireland  comprises  two  forces, — the  Dublin  metro- 
politan police  and  the  royal  Irish  constabulary.  Dublin  was  in 
1808  formed  into  a  district  called  "  the  police  distjict  of  Dublin 
metropolis  "  (48  G«o.  III.  c.  140).  After  intermediate  amendments 
in  1836,  concurrently  mth  the  consolidation  of  police  law  for 
Ireland  generally,  the  Dublin  system  was  placed  on  the  lines  of 
Sir  Robert  Peel's  Act  of  1829  for  the  metropolis  of  London, — the 
chief  secretary  of  the  lord  lieutenant  standing  in  the  place  of  the 
secretary  of  state  for  the  home  department  (6  &  7  Will.  IV.  c.  29) ; 
and  six  years  later  the  systems  were  further  assimilated  (5  &  6 
Vict.  c.  22).  Several  alterations  were  made  subsequently,  and 
police  courts  regulated.  The  Dublin  police  is  under  the  immo- 
oiate  direction  of  one  commissioner  and  an  assistant  commis- 
sioner and  the  offices  of  receiver  and  secretary  are  consolidated. 
The  royal  Irish  constabulary  dates  from  1836,  when  the  laws  re- 
lating to  the  constabulary  force  in  Ireland  were  consolidated  and 
a  number  of  older  Acts  reijealed  (6  &  7  Will.  IV.  c.  13).  This  Act, 
although  often  amended,  is  the  foundation  of  the  existing  police 
system  in  counties,  towns,  and  baronies  throughout  Ireland  except 
in  the  Dublin  metropolitan  district.  An  inspector  general,  resident 
in  Dublin  and  having  an  office  there,  and  appointed  by  the  lord 
lieutonant,  has  the  general  direction  of  the  constabulary,  and  with 
the  approbation  of  the  lord  lieutenant  frames  rules  for  their 
general  government,  classification,  and  distribution.  In  this  way 
a  uniform  administration  of  police  law  prevails  throughout  Ireland 
without  interfering  with  the  Dublin  metropolitan  police.  Under 
the  inspector  general  there  are  a  deputy  inspector  general  and 
assistant  inspectors  general.  The  Irish  constabulary  is  regarded 
as  a  semi-military  force.  Every  man  lives  in  barracks.  It  does 
not  interfere  with  the  Dublin  metropolitan  police,  but  a  reserve 
force  is  established  at  a  depot  in  Dublin.  The  strength  and  pay 
of  the  force  have  been  already  noticed. 
ttiik  Police  forces  have  been  formed  in  all  the  British  colonics,  includ- 

oniei.  ing  the  Dominion  of  Canada,  mainly  on  the  lines  established  in  the 
mother  co\intry,  having  for  their  basis  ef  action  the  common  law 
existing  there. 

The  early  legislation  for  Sydney  followed  very  closely  the 
metropolitan  polii-e  Acts,  and  some  of  the  existing  Acts  of  the 
Australian  colonies  exhibit  great  skill.  Colonial  forces  generally 
are  sworn  to  servo  the  queen,  **"*^  ^^  ^^^  ^^  ^^^  colonial  legis- 
lature of  New  South  Wales  in  1853  made  provision  for  the  engage- 
ment in  Great  Britain  of  persons  to  servo  in  the  police  force 
of  New  South  Wales.  The  general  features  of  the  Australian 
police  comprise  a  chief  commissioner  or  other  head  for  each  colony 
or  district,  appointed  by  the  governor  in  council,  with  various  grades 
of  oliiccr.-)  as  at  homo,  some  apnointed  by  the  governor  and  the  rest 
by  the  bead  of  the  police.  The  expense  of  the  police  establish- 
ments is  borne  by  the  colonial  revenue  (6  &  0  Vict.  c.  70,  §  40  ; 
13  &  14  Vict.  c.  69,  §  23). 

Nearly  the  whole  of  British  India  is  divided  into  police  districts, 
the  general  arrangements  of  the  system  of  the  regular  police  re- 
sembling in  most  respects  those  of  the  English  police,  but  differing 
in  details  in  the  different  presidencies.  All  are  in  uniform,  trained 
to  the  use  of  firearms,  and  drilled,  and  maybe  called  upon  to  perform 
military  duties.  The  superior  ollicers  aro  nearly  all  Kuropcans,  and 
many  of  tlicni  arc  military  officers.  The  rest  arc  natives,  in  Bombay 
chioily  Mobainrncd.ms.  The  organization  of  the  police  was  not  dealt 
(vith  by  the  criminal  code  whici  came  into  force  in  1883,  but  the 
code  is  full  of  provisions  tending  to  make  the  force  efficient.  By 
that  code  as  well  as  by  the  former  code  'he  police  have  a  legal 


sanction  for  doing  what  by  practice  they  do  in  England :  they  taka 
evidence  for  their  own  information  and  guidance  in  the  invc  ligation 
of  cases,  and  are  clothed  with  the  power  to  compel  the  attendance  ot 
witnesses  and  question  them.  The  smallness  of  the  number  of  th» 
European  magistrates  and  other  circumstances  make  the  poIic» 
more  important  and  relatively  far  more  powerful  in  India  than  in 
England  (Stephen).  The  difficulties  in  the  way  of  ascertaining  the- 
truth,  and  investigating  false  statements  and  supprtssed  cases,  are 
very  great. 

As  regards  the  rural  police  of  India  every  village  headman,  and 
the  village  watchman  as  weU  as  the  village  police  ofticer,  are  required 
by  the  code  to  communicate  to  the  nearest  magistrate  or  the  officer 
in  charge  of  the  nearest  police  station,  whichever  is  nearest,  any 
information  respecting  offenders. 

Reports  indicating  an  increase  in  the  number  of  dacoities  andl 
erimes  of  violence  since  1880,  especially  in  Rajputana,  Central 
India,  and  Hyderabad,  are  cited  as  proving  tlio  necessity  for  a 
system  of  detective  police  embracing  the  whole  of  India.  A  scheme 
for  that  purpose  has  been  matured  and  will  probably  be  carried  out. 

Taking  Lower  Bengal  as  an  illustration  of  tlie  existing  system 
throughout  India,  the  superior  ranks  of  the  police  comprise  an' 
inspector  general,  deputies,  district  superintendents  of  uifierent 
grades,  assistant  superintendents,  and  probationers.  The  subor- 
dinate officers  consist  of  inspectors  of  four  grades,  sub-inspectors 
(who  are  in  charge  of  police  stations),  head  constables,  and  con- 
stables. The  total  budget  grant  for  the  year  1881-82  (the  last 
examined)  for  the  police  department  was  3,695,572  rupees,  on  a 
sanctioned  strength  of  78  superior  officers,  3081  subordinate  ofEcei-s,! 
and  14,588  constables,  excluding  the  municipal  police  but  including 
the  civil  police  and  frontier  police  of  the  Chittagong  hill  tracts  and 
the  railway  police.  The  strength  of  the  municipal  police  was  371 
officers  and  5702  constables.  The  cost  of  the  force  cmpl<2jred  on' 
purely  police  work  was  2,154,000  rupees, — the  cost  per  head  of  tho 
total  population  being  6 '2  pice.  The  proportion  of  police  to  popu- 
lation was  in  Bengal  proper  1  to  3933.  The  number  of  oflences 
reported  during  the  year  was  104,153.  The  percentage  of  reported 
cases  not  inquired  into  is  under  four. 

In  India  generally,  including  Assam  and  British  Burmah,  the' 
total  regular  police  of  all  kinds  in  1881  was  147,200.  The  cost" 
was  £2,324,786,  of  which  £2,075,525  was  payable  from  imperial  or 
provincial  revenues,  and  the  remainder  from  other  sources.  The 
rural  police  are  not  paid  by  tho  state,  but  by  village  cesses. 

In  Bengal  and  the  Punjab  there  are  14  policemen  to  every  100 
square  miles,  and  in  the  North-Westem  Provinces  and  Oudh  27. 
The  ratio  of  these  figures  is  explained  partly  by  tho  greater  density 
of  population  and  partly  by  tho  frequency  of  crime. 

The  police  force  of  the  British  empire,  metropolitan,  niuniciiial.^Totil^ 
and  rural  together,  is  aboyt  210,000.     Of  this  total,  61,000  are  in  force  S 
the  United  Kingdom  and  147,000  in-India,  the  remainder  being  Briti«ll 
in  the  colonies  and  dependencies.     If  to  this  total  be  added  tho  einnifk^ 
number  of  village  police  in  India  who  are  legally  recognized,  whose 
number  is  not  less'than  350,000,  the  grand  total  of  tne  police  for 
the  empire  is  660,000.     Thus   we  have  for  tho  whole  empire  in 
average  of  one  ))oliceman  to  every  571  of  the  people  and  to  every 
16  square  miles  (Sir  Richard  Temple). 

Tho  United  States  of  America  have  a  system  of  police  closely  OSl** 
resembling  that  of  England,  and  founded  similarly  on  Acts  of  the  Statw. 
legislature  combined  with  the  common  law  applicable  to  peace 
oflicers.  Congress  as  well  as  the  States  separately  may  ostoblish 
police  regulations,  and  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the  criminal  lew 
of  England  has  been  reproduced  in  various  shapes  in  nearly  all  tho 
States.  The  source  of  revenue  for  the  maintenance  of  tho  police  ia 
taxation  of  real  and  personal  property.  Every  State  and  every  citjj 
in  a  State  has  its  separate  special  administration.  For  tho  pur- 
poses of  this  article  New  York  must  suffice.  The  regulations  of 
tho  police  of  Brooklyn,  Philadelphia,  and  other  cities  present  the 
same  general  features. 

Tho  police  department  of  tho  city  of  New  York  consists  of  a 
"board  of  police"  composed  of  four  "commissioners"  (appointed 
by  tho  mayor  with  the  consent  of  tho  board  of  aldermen)  and  the 
"police  force  "and  officers  appointed  by  tho  board.  Tho  board, 
consisting  of  the  commissioners,  is  the  head  of  the  police  depart- 
ment, and  governs  and  controls  its  business;  it  is  invested  with 
and  exorcises  all  the  powers  conferred  by  law  upon  the  police 
department,  makes  appointments,  and  by  rules  and  regulations 
through  a  suiwriutcnilent  prescribes  the  general  discipline  of  the 
department.  The  orders  cannot,  however,  conflict  with  the  consti- 
tution of  tho  United  States  nor  with  tho  constitution  or  laws  of  the 
State  ot  New  York. 

Tho  police  force  of  tho  city  comprises  olHjera  ranking  as  fnllows : — 
superintendent  of  tho  whole  force,  four  Inspectors  (tlio  whole  area 
of  tho  city  being  divided  into  four  inspection  di.itricla,  subdivided 
into  precincts,  with  an  inspector  to  each),  sergeants,  and  roundsmen, 
who  are  visiting  officers, — tho  body  of  tho  force  being  termed  " patrol 
men,"  with  "  ovorincn  "  at  stations  and  prisons. 

The  force  (clothed  in  nnifonn)  i«  divided  into  as  Many  companiea 
as  there  are  precincts,  and  such  other  companies  and  "squads"  aa 


342 


POLICE 


the  board  may  order.  The  siiperinteudent  is  the  chief  executive 
officer  of  the  force,  subject  to  the  orders,  rules,  and  regulations  of 
the  board,  and  it  is  his  duty  to  enforce  in  the  city  all  the  laws  of 
the  State  and  ordinances  of  the  city,  and  the  rules  and  regulations 
of  the  police  board.  The  superintendent  promulgates  written  or 
printed  orders  to  the  officei-s  and  members  of  the  police  force  not 
inconsistent  with  law  or  the  rules  and  regulations  of  the  board. 
It  is  t'.;fl  duty  of  the  police  force  at  all  times  of  the  day  and 
night  within  the  city  and  county  of  New  York,  and  they 
are  accordingly  empowered,  to  especially  preserve  the  public 
jipace  ;  prevent  crime  ;  detect  and  arrest  otfenders  ;  suppress  riots 
aud  insurrections  ;  protect  the  riglfts  of  pei-sons  and  of  property ; 
guard  the  public  health  ;  preserve  order  at  every  primary  and  pub- 
lic election  ;  remove  nuisances  existing  in  public  streets,  roads, 
places,  and  highways;  repress  and- restrain  disorderly  houses  and 
houses  of  ill-fame  ;  "arrest  all  street  beggars  and  mendicants  ;  pro- 
vide a  proper  police  attendance  at  every  fire  in  order  that  the  fire- 
men, fire-engines,  and  property  exposed  may  be  suitably  assisted  or 
protected  ;  assist,  advise,  and  protect  immigrants,  sti-angers,  and 
travellers  in  public  streets,  or  at  steamboat  and  ship  landings  or 
railroad  stations  ;  enforce  any  law  relating  to  the  suppression  and 
punishment  of  crime,  or  to  the  observance  of  Sunday,  or  regarding 
pawnbrokers,  or  mock  auctions,  or  emigration,  or  elections,  or 
gambling,  or  intemperance,  or  lotteries,  or  lottery  policies,  or 
vagrants,  .or  disorderly  persons,  or  the  public  health,  or  any  ordi- 
nance or  resolution  of  common  councils,  within  the  said  district, 
applicable  to  police,  health,  or  criminal  procedure. 

Special  regulations  are  made  on  these  and  other  kindred  subjects, 
Buch  as  the  regulation  of  traffic,  preventing  obstructions,  the  visita- 
tion of  places  of  amusement;,  public  houses  and  drinking  places, 
observation  of  servants  in  charge  of  hoases,  and  of  suspicious 
persons,  lost  children,  processions,  balls  and  parties,  elections,  &c., 
and  the  attendance  of  an  adequate  number  of  police  at  every 
assembly  of  citizens. 

The  arrest  of  persons  with  or  without  process  does  not  call  for 
special  notice  as  distinguished  from  the  common  law  and  statute 
law  in  England,  and  tlie  practice  as  to  the  entry  of  charges  and 
taking  bail  by  the  police  is  akin  to  the  practice  in  the  English 
metropolis,  but  the  rules  are  somewliat  stricter.  A  squad  is 
organi2ed  for  the  sole  purpose  and  duty  of  serving  criminal  process. 
Persons  making  complaint  of  a  felony  or  misdemeaaour  may  be 
required  to  make  aflSrmation  or  oath  which  toe  police  officers  have 
power  to  administer.  Charges  against  police,  whether  by  members 
of  the  force  or  citizens,  are  made  and  dealt  with  under  strict  rules, 
and  are  tried  upon  written  charges  by  one  or  more  of  the  commis- 
sioners in  power,  a  comnuttee  dismissing  charges  or  directing  their 
trial.  Evidence  ia  taken  upon  oath,  and  if  the  case  is  heard  by  less 
than  three  commissioners  no  judgment  can  be  acted  on  until  the  wit- 
ness is  brought  before  and  examined  by  all  the  commissioners.  The 
board  draws,  by  its  .president,  on  the  treasurer  of  the  city  for  the 
cost  of  arrest  and  conviction  of  crimiuals  and  others  endangering  the  ' 
s.ifety  of  the  community  and  jirocuring  information  the  use  of  which 
may  prevent  crime  and  enable  the  department  to  perform  its  import- 
ant duties  more  successfully  and  with  greater  satisfaction  to  the 
public.  The  sum  so  drawn  is  charged  as  a  "secret  service  fund." 
A  place  is  provided  in  accordance  with  statute  law  for  the  detention 
of  such  witnesses  as  are  unable  to  furnish  security  for  their  appear- 
ance in  criminal  proceedings. 

The  detective  force,  called  the  "detective  squad,"  consists  of  a 
captain  and  other  members  assigned  by  the  board  to  detective 
duty.  This  portion  of  the  force  has  an  office,  as  other  portions  of 
the  police  force,  and  is  under  the  direct  orders  of  the  superintendent, 
to  whom  reports  are  made,  and  who  in  turn  reports  to  the  board. 
There  is  also  a  "special  service  suuad  "  under  the  officer  command- 
ing the  detective  force. 

There  is  a  sanitary  code,  and  a  "  sanitary  police  company"  is  set 
apart  from  the  police  force  by  the  board  of  police,  performing  duties 
assigned  by  the  board.  The  captain  of  the  sanitary  company  assigns 
policemen  to  act  as  school  officers.  There  are  harbour  police, 
a  police  steamboat  and  steam-boiler  inspection  squad  to  enforce 
the  statute  law  on  the  subject,  an  "ordinance  police  squad"  to 
enforce  ordinances  of  the  corporation,  and  a  "property  office." 

Members  of  the  force  are  subject  to  rules;  at  the  discretion  of  the 
board,  on  written  application,  they  are  permitted  to  receive  rewards 
or  presents  for  services  rendered  by  them  in  the  discharge  of  duties 
which  are  both  "  meritorions  and  extraordinary,"  but  for  such  only. 

Admission  to  the  force,  examination,  instruction,  drill,  and  dis- 
cipline are  provided  for  by  special  regulations.  The  right  of  every 
member  of  the  police  force  to  entertain  political  or  partisan 
opinions,  and  to  express  the  same  freely  when  anch  expression  shall 
not  concern  the  immediate  discharge  of  his  official  duties,  as  well 
8s  the  right  of  the  elective  franchise,  is  deemed  sacred  and  inviol- 
able ;  but  no  member  of  the  force  is  permitted  to  be  a  delegate  or 
representative  to,  or  member  of,  or  to  take  part  in  any  political  or 
partisan  convention,  whose  purpose  is  the  nomination  of  a  candidate 
or  candidates  to  any  political  office.  Upon  the  days  of  election  for 
"jiblic  offices  held  under  the  laws  of  the  State,  ho  must  do  all 


within  his  power  to  preserve  the  peace,  protect  the  integrity  of  the 
ballot  box,  enforce  the  rights  of  lawful  voters,  and  prevent  illegal 
and  fraudulent  voting. 

The  estimated  salaries  for  tbe  police  of  Kew  York  for  1884,  com- 
prising upwards  of  2816  members  of  the  force  of  all  ranks,  amounted 
to  $3,328,333,  besides  the  salaries  of  the  clerical  force.  The  ap- 
propriations for  the  maintenance  of  the  city  government  (including 
the  police)  are  made  by  the  board  of  estimate  and  apportionment, 
composed  of  the  mayor,  comptroller,  president  of  the  board  of 
aldermen,  and  president  of  the  department  of  taxes  and  assessments. 
Some  police  statistics  are  given  in  the  article  New  York  [q.v.). 

Looked  at  from  a  general  point  of  view,  the  police  in  France 
may  be  regarded  as  divided  into  two  great  branches — administrative 
police  {!a  police  administrative)  and  judicial  police  {la  police  judi- 
ciat're),— the  former  having  for  its  object  the  maintenance  of  order, 
and  the  latter  charged  with  tracing  out  offenders,  collecting  the 
proofs,  and  delivering  the  presumed  offendeis  to  the  tribunals 
charged  by  law  with  their  trial  and  punishment. 

Police  duties  are  exercised  under  the  minister  of  the  interior,  in 
the  departments  and  municipalities  by  the  prefects  and  sub-prefects, 
aopointed  by  the  president  of  the  republic,  and  mayors,  having  as 
auxiliaries  the  commissaries  of  police  and  other  officers  (appointed 
by  the  president,  but  under  the  orders  of  the  prefects).  One  of  the 
chief  prerogatives  of  tb^  administrative  police  is  to  make  rules  to 
ensure  public  order.  <  Of  thess  rules  some  embrace  general  interests 
of  the  state,  these  being  regulations  of  high  or  grand  police  ;  others 
have  no  other  object  than  the  ruling  of  the  particular  district  and 
its  inhabitants,  and  are  simply  termed  police  regulations.  Accord- 
ing as  it  deals  with  the  general  interests  of  the  state  or  only  with 
those  of  a  municipality,  the  administrative  police  is  said  to  be 
general  or  municipal  ;  and  each  of  these  branches  admits  of  other 
divisions  according  to  the  subject.  The  police  gtnerale,  besides 
more  obvious  matters,  includes  all  matters  relating  to  public  health, 
the  regulation  of  prostitution,  the  inspectiou  of  food,  the  carrjnng 
on  of  trades  and  manufactures ;  and  in  relation  to  the  welfare  of  the 
state  it  embraces  public  meetings,  banquets,  societies  and  clubs,  cafes 
and  public  places,  and  the  enforcement  of  laws  relating  to  the  pub- 
lication and  distiibution  of  printed  or  written  matter,  the  sale  of 
journals,  the  surveillance  of  strangers  or  fugitives,  the  system  of 
passports,  the  sale  of  gunpowder  and  firearms,  designs  against  the 
state,  and  a  variety  of  such  matters.  In  this  way  the  police  who 
look  after  the  safety  of  the  state  is  closely  allied  with  political 
matters  (fa  police  politique).  Under  a  government  really  represent- 
ing the  popular  w  ill  the  duties  of  the  police  politique  are  trifling,  or 
at  least  innocuous",  but  under  a  despotic  government  they  become 
of  the  highest  importance.  It  is  matter  of  history  which  cannot 
he  treated  of  here  that  under  Louis  XIV.  and  in  succeeding  times 
the  most  unpopular  and  unjustifiable  use  was  made  of  police  as  a 
secret  instrument  for  thepurposes  of  despotic  government.  Napoleon 
availed  himself  largely  of  police  instruments,  especially  through  his 
minister  Fouchi.  On  the  restoration  of  constitutional  government 
under  Lonis  Philippe  police  action  was  less  dancerous,  but  the 
danger  revived  under  the  second  empire. 

The  ministry  of  police  created  by  the  act  of  the  Direcrtory  in  1796 
was  in  1818  suppressed  as  an  independent  office,  and  in  1852  it  was 
united  with  the  ministry  of  the  interior. 

The  detection  and  punishment  of  crime  is  theoretically  as  well 
as  practically  regarded  by  the  French  as  cssf-ntiaUy  a  matter  of 
public  concern,  and  to  be  provided  for  by  public  officials  appointed 
for  that  purpose,  and  on  the  other  hand  in  every  French  criminal 
proceeding,  from  the  most  trifling  to  the  most  important,  every 
person  injured  by  the  ofience  may  make  himself  ^((rt«<  civile.  It 
follows  that  in  many  features  the  French  police  is  organized  in  a 
different  manner  from  the  British,  and  hassome  very  different  duties 
(Stephen).  An  observation  has  been  already  cited,  that  neither  in 
England  nor  in  America  is  there  a  system  of  espionage  by  whicli 
private  matters  can  be  made  the  subject  of  police  investigation  or 
interference.  On  the  other  hand  the  English  system  is  open  to  the 
observation  that  the  police,  in  practice  at  least,  are  powerless  to  pro- 
tect from  annoyance  in  many  matters  essential  to  perfect  rule. 
Short  of  absolute  indecency  or  obscenity,  printed  matter  of  a  scurri- 
lous and  offensive  kind  is  openly  sold  in  the  streets  without  police 
interference ;  and,  owing  apparently  to  the  much -abused  maxim  that 
an  Englishman's  house  is  his  castle,  the  quiet  aud  freedom  from 
annoyance  in  the  performance  and  fulfilling  of  the  daily  duties  and 
engagements  of  life  are  not  secured.  The  annoyance  to  which 
Carlyle  was  subject  is  only  an  illustration  of  the  almost  daily  com- 
plaints that  arise  in  the  English  metropolis.  Although  the  noise  of 
a  bell  may  be  the  subject  of  indictment  or  injunction,  the  officers  of 
police  do  not  complain  of  or  even  remonstrate  with  an  inconsiderate 
or  selfish  neighbour  in  such  a  matter,  or  even  in  still  greater  annoy- 
ances, such  as  those  arising  from  animals  kept  in  a  state  of  confine- 
ment (not  affecting  public  health),  because  the  source  of  annoyance 
is  within  private  territory,  or  because  there  is  no  summary  mode 
of  dealing  with  it.  It  is  unreasonable  that  compliinants  should 
be  told,  as  they  are  every  day,  and  con'ectly,  by  magistrates,  that 
the  annoyances  which  render  the  enjoyment  of  life  iropracticabW 


\ 


POLICE 


343 


may  bo  subject  of  indictment  or  injunction,  but  not  of  summary 
iiolice  intervention.  The  fear  of  uriwing  down  ridicule  ikin  to 
Vergcs's  direction  to  the  watch,  "If  you  hear  a  cliild  cry  in  the 
night,  you  must  call  to  the  nurse  to  bid  her  still  it,"  probably 
stands  unduly  in  the  way  of  police  interference  with  real  nuisances. 
It  i:!  not,  however,  in  the  minute  details  of  regulation -^nd 
inspection  of  tho  incidents  of  every-day  life  that  the  distinctions 
between  the  police  systems  of  the  two  countries  chiefly  consist. 
Such  dLstinctions  have  of  late  years  greatly  diminished  ;  the  inter- 
vention in  all  matters  of  health,  for  e-^taniple,  places  the  English 
system  more  aliiri  to  the  French,  and  on  the  other  hand  all 
travellers  of  mature  years  can  testify  to  the  mitigation  and  even 
total  cessiitiou  iu  France,  and  on  tlie  Continent  generally,  of  the 
minute  investigation  of  a  stranger  who  is  not  a  "suspect."  "To  the 
word  espionage  a  stigma  is  attached,"  says  Bentham.  "Let  us  sub- 
stitute the  word  inspection,  which  is  unconnected  with  the  same  pre- 
judices. If  this  inspection  consists  iu  the  maintenance  of  an  oppres- 
sive system  of  police,  which  subjects  innocent  actions  to  punishment, 
wliijh  condemns  secretly  and  arbitrarily,  it  is  natural  tliat  such  a 
system  aud  its  agents  should  become  odious.  But  if  the  inspection 
consists  in  the  maintenance  of  a  system  of  police  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  public  tranquillity  and  the  execution  of  good  laws,  all 
its  inspectors  and  all  its  guardians  act  a  nseful  and  salutary  part ;  it 
13  only  the  vicious  who  will  have  reason  to  complain,  and  it  will  be 
formidable  to  them  alone."  It  is  with  reference  to  criminal  matters 
and  the  police  jiuiiciuire  that  important  distinctions  exist  between 
tho  French  and  English  systems.  In  every  arrondissemenl  there 
is  a  jitge  iV instruclian  who  makes  the  first  formal  inquiry  in 
criminal  cases  ;  and  iu  every  tribunal  of  first  instance,  or  tribunal 
'.on-eclUmnd,  there  is  a  procureur  de  la  rfpitilique  who  with 
deputies  forms  the  ministire  public  of  that  court.  In  tho  court 
of  the  jur)cs  de  paix  (who  may  be  compared  to  police  magis- 
trates) the  commissary  of  the  police  is  the  ministire  public.  iTie 
jicjes  do  paix,  the  maire,  the  commissaries  of  police,  the  gendar- 
merie, and  in  rural  districts  the  gardes  cluimpUres  and  the  gardes 
/orestiers,  are  olTicers  of  the  judicial  police  ;  and  by  the  Code 
d'  fnstruclion  Criminclle  all  these  officers,  even  the ^k^/cs  d^instruc- 
tion,  are  under  the  orders  of  the  procureiir-geniral.  The  vocations 
of  these  officers  as  well  as  the  courts  are  briefly  explained  in  the 
article  France  (vol.  Ix.  p.  511). 

Sergents  de  iille,  in  Paris  now  called  gardieiis  de  la  paix  (the 
name  having  been  changed  thus  in  September  1370),  arc  the 
nearest  equivalents  of  English  policp  constables  and  are  not  officers  of 
the  police  judieiaire.  Their  powers  in  preserving  the  public  peace 
closely  resemble  the  common  law  powers  and  duties  and  protection 
of  the  English  constable.  Their  reports  of  cases  have  not  the 
authority  of  a  p-rocis  verbal. 

In  Paris,  as  elsewhere,  the  prffel  de  police  is  at  the  head  of  the 
force,  with  commissaii'cs  de  police,  appointed  by  the  president  of  the 
republic  on  the  nomination  of  the  minister  of  the  interior,  but 
acting  under  tho  orders  of  the  prefect,  and  having  both  administra- 
tive and  judicial  duties.  The  commis-saries  see  that  the  Laws 
relating  to  good  order  and  public  safety  are  observed,  and  that  the 
police  orders  are  executed,  and  take  special  action  in  serious 
matters.  As  ofCccrs  of  the  judicial  police  they  are  the  auxiliaries 
of  tho  procureur  of  the  republic  in  correctional  and  criminal  police 
action,  and  in  the  ordinary  police  tribunal  (le  tribunal  de  simple 
police)  they  exercise  tho  functions  of  magistrates. 

The  organization  of  tho  central  administration  (administtfition 
f.f,nl/>'alc)  comprises  three  classes  or  functions  which  together  consti- 
tute la  police.  First  there  is  the  office  or  cabinet  of  the  prefect  for  tho 
general  police  (Inpoliee  ginlrale),  with  three  bureaus  having  for  their 
special  object  the  safety  of  tho  president  of  the  republic,  matters  con- 
neetcil  with  tho  use  of  arms,  various  societies,  tho  regulation  and 
order  of  public  ceremonies,  theatres,  amusements  and  entertain- 
ments, movements  of  troops,  the  military  police  [la  police  militaire), 
.ind  various  other  matters  ;  secondly,  tho  judicial  police  {la  police 
judieiaire)  alrc.idy  spoken  of,  with  five  bureaus,  in  constant  com- 
munication with  tho  courts  of  judicature,  and  including  tho  pcrvico 
of  tho  prisons  of  tho  Seine,  matters  relating  to  aliens,  and  the  pro- 
tection of  children  ;  thirdly,  the  administrative  police  (la  police 
administrative),  with  four  bureaus,  includin"  everything  relating 
to  supplies,  navigation,  public  carriages,  animals,  firemen,  public 
health,  and  the  enforcement  of  tho  law  respecting  tho  employment 
of  young  persons.  Some  minor  matters  are  under  tho  supervision 
of  tho  prefect  of  the  Seine.  Concuixently  with  these  divisions  there 
is  tho  muniripal  police,  which  comprise-  all  tho  agents  in  enforcing 
police  regulations  in  the  streets  or  public  thoroughfires,  acting 
un<lcr  tho  orders  of  a  chief  (chef  de  la  police  mtinicipalc)  with  a 
central  bureau^  The  municipal  police  is  divided  iiitfl  two  prin(  ipal 
branches— tho  service  in  uniform  of  tho  gardicns  de  la  paix,  and  tho 
service  out  of  nniform  of  inspcctcura  de  police,  the  latter  a  compara- 
tively small  number. 

For  purposes  of  municipal  police,  Paris  is  divided  into  twenty 
arrondisseinents  (corresponding  in  a  great  measure  with  tho  divi.sions 
of  tho  metropolitan  police  of  England),  which  tho  uuifonn  police 
Jiatrol. 


The  total  police  strcngtli  of  the  Paris  arrondisscments,  according 
to  the  latest  return,  showed  6932  gardiens  de  la  paix,  each 
arrondissement  officered  by  an  officier  de  paix  (an  office  peculiar  to 
Paris),  with  3  or  4  brigadiers  and  from  24  to  27  sous-brigadiera 
under  his  command.     There  are  two  divisional  inspectors. 

Besides  these  divisional  gardiens  de  la  paix  police,  there  is  a  cen- 
tral administration  consisting  of  6  central  brigades  of  100  each,  4  of 
the  brigades  carrying  out  the  orders  of  the  prefecture  at  theatres, 
assemblies,  races,  and  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  elsewhere  in 
tho  capital  where  their  presence  is  required,  wlulo  the  5th  brigade 
regulates  traffic  generally,  and  the  6th  prevents  obstrnctioiiB  in  tho 
markets. 

The  service  de  sHrell,  or  detective  department  (out  of  uniform), 
with  which  is  now  amalgamated  the  brigade  des  7nosurs  (which 
deals  with  public  morals,  houses  of  ill  fame,  prostitutes,  and  so 
forth),  comprises  a  commissary,  principal  inspectors,  brigadiers,  aud 
211  inspectors.  There  are  a  number  of  other  branches  of  service 
including  a  fire  brigade. 

The  proportion  of  police  to  inhabitants  as  last  estimated  is  1  in 
352. 

The  pay  of  the  gardiins  de  la  paix  is  from  1400  to  1700  francs  ; 
brigadiers,  2000  francs  ;  sous-brigadie;-3,  1800  francs  ;  ojiciers  da 
paix,  3000  to  6000  francs.  The  estimate  of  expenditure  of  the 
whole  Paris  police  for  1884  was  23,952,631  francs,— of  which  the 
state  contributed  7,693,825  francs. 

Whether  the  police  of  Paris  are  more  effectivB  than  those  of  the 
English  meti'opolis  is  doubted.  Persons  who  arc  best  entitled  to 
express  an  opinion,  having  practical  experience,  think  that,  while 
a  multitude  of  offices  and  officers  for  a  multitude  of  subjects  and 
stages  of  investigation — a  system,  in  short,  of  bu'oaucracy — exists, 
which  creates  an  impression,  the  actual  detection  of  grave  offences 
is  not  commensurate  with  the  display  of  attention. 

It  is  impossible  in  the  narrow  limits  of  this  article  to  go  through 
all  the  police  forces  of  Europe.  It  must  suffice  to  allude  to  a  few 
principal  states,  noting  the  police  forces  of  their  capitals  as  illustrat- 
ing the  systems.  Taking  the  Berlin  force  as  Ulustrative  of  the 
police  system  in  the  German  empire,  police  duties  aro  as  various  as 
in  France  ;  the  system  includes  a  political  police  contToUing  all 
matters  relating  to  the  press,  societies,  clubs,  and  public  r-nd  social 
amusements.  Police  duties  are  carried  out  under  tho  direction  of 
tho  royal  police  presidency,  the  executive  police  force  comprising 
a  police  colonel,  with,  besides  commissaries  of  criminal  investiga- 
tions, captains,  lieutenants,  acting  lieutenants,  sergeant-majors, 
and  a  large  body  of  constables  (SchuU:mdnner).  Tho  total  in 
1883-84  amounted  to  3441  e.xecutivo  officers,  including  criminal 
investigation  officers,  the  political  police,  and  the  department  for 
the  supervision  of  prostitution.  Taking  the  population  of  Berlin 
from  the  statistical  bureau  of  27th  July  1884  at  1,212,820,  this 
gives  301  to  each  officer.  The  pay  of  the  police  is  principally  pro- 
vided from  fiscal  sources,  and  varies  iu  an  ascending  scale  from  1125 
marks  and  lodging  allowance  for  the  lowest  class  of  constable. 

Taking  Vienna  in  the  same  way  as  illustrative  of  the  Austrian  Aus; 
police,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  there  aro  three  branches,^(l)  admini- 
stration; (2)  public  safety  and  judicial  police;  and  (3)  tho  Govern- 
ment police.  At  the  head  of  the  police  service  in  Vienna  there  is  a 
president  of  police,  and  at  tho  head  of  each  of  the  three  branches 
there  is  an  Oberpolizeirath  or  chief  commissary.  The  licad  of  the 
Government  branch  sometimes  fills  tho  office  of  president.  Each  of 
the  branches  is  subdivided  into  departments  at  tho  head  of  whic^ 
aro  PolizeiriUhe.  Passing  over  the  subdivisions  of  the  administrative 
branch,  tho  public  safety  and  judicial  branch  includes  tho  following 
dopartmcnts  : — the  office  for  public  safety,  tho  central  imiuiry 
office,  and  tho  record  office  or  Evidendiurcau.  The  Goverumont 
police  branch  comprises  tliree  departments  : — tho  Government  police 
office,  tho  press  office,  and  tho  Vercinnbureau  or  office  for  tho  rcgistia- 
tion  of  societies. 

Tho  Sicherticitswache  or  oxecutivo  police  of  Vienna  consists  of  a 
central  inspector  and  chief,  district,  divisional,  and  other  inspvctora, 
with  about  2500  constables,  Sicherheitswachmilnner.  Tlio  detective 
department  comprises  a  chief  and  other  inspectors,  and  l.SO  agents. 
In  July  1881  tho  proportion  of  police  constables  to  the  inhabitants 
was  1  to  436.  In  tho  latest  return,  the  entire  police  service  com- 
prises 2810  periODs,  at  a  cost  of  2,365,710  florins, — of  which  the 
stato  contributes  1,730,740  florins,  and  tho  communes  tho  greater 

Sart  of  the  reraaindor.     Tho  pa^  of  tho  cooatabla  ascends  from  860 
orins  with  allowances  of  90  florins. 
It  is  obvious  that  there  is  a  general  rosembhmco  between  the 
organization  and  scope  of  the  police  forces  of  Gcnuany  and  Austria' 
and  of  France. 

In  Belgian  municipnlitios  tho  burgomasters  aro  tho  heads  of  (ho 
forco,  which  is  und.'r  their  control.  Tho  administialor  of  public 
Biifoty  is,  however,  specially  instructed  by  tho  minister  of  justice 
to  sec  that  tho  laws  and  rcgulotions  ofl"ecting  tho  police  aro  properly 
carried  out,  and  ho  can  call  on  all  public  funclionaiii's  to  act  in 
furtherance  of  that  object.  The  administrator  of  public  safety  ia 
specially  charged  with  tho  administration  cf  tho  law  in  regard  to 
aliens,  and  this  law  is  applied,  as  iu  the  ca.se  of  Victor  Hugo,  to 


344 


F  O  L  —  F  O  L 


persons  stirring  up  sedition.  The  dtvty  of  the  gendarmerie,  who 
constitute  the  horse  and  foot  police,  is  generally  to  maintain 
internal  order  and  peace.  In  Brussels  as  elsewhere  the  burgo- 
master is  the  head,  but  for  executive  purposes  there  is  a  chief 
commissary  (subject,  however,  to  the  orders  of  the  burgomaster), 
with  assistant  commissaries  and  commissaries  of  divisions  and  other 
officers,  and  central  and  other  bureaus,  with  a  body  of  agents  (police 
constables)  in  each. 

.  There  are  two  main  classes  of  police  functions  recognized  by  law, 
the  administrative  and  the  judicial  police,  the  former  engaged  in  the 
daily  maintenance  of  peace  and  order  and  so  preventing  otfences,  the 
latter  in  the  investigation  of  crime  and  tracing  offenders  ;  but  the 
duties  are  necessarily  performed  to  a  great  extent  by  the  same 
agents.  The  two  other  functions  of  the  judicial  police  are,  however, 
limited  to  the  same  classes  of  officers,  and  they  perform  the  same 
duties  as  in  Paris, — the  law  in  practice  there  being  expressly  adopted 
^n  Brussels. 

In  Brussels  the  police  force  numbers,  according  to  the  latest  re- 
port, 485  of  all  ranks.  For  the  population  (162,489),  this  gives  1 
to  every  335  persons.  Strictly  speaking  there  is  no  detective  branch 
80  called,  but  the  special  and  judicial  officers  are  employed  in  de- 
tection as  the  necessity  arises.  The  pay  and  establishment  charges 
are  defrayed  by  local  taxation.  The  annual  pay  of  a  constable  is 
1600  francs. 

Wbile  this  article  is  going  through  the  press  the  idea  is  put  for- 
ward, in  consequence  of  political  disturbances,  to  place  the  police 
of  the  larger  Belgian  towns  undsr  the  control  of  Government  instead 
of  that  of  the  respective  municipalities  as  at  present,  and  establish 
a  sort  of  prefecture  of  police  iu  Brussels.     The  attempt,  if  made, 
will  probably  meet  with  opposition  from  local  authorities. 
BwItzKr-       In  Switzerland,,  which   is  sometimes  classed  with   Belgium  as 
fcaia.        among  the  least  policed  states  of  Europe,  the  laws  of  the  cantons 
Tary.     In  some  respects  they  are  stricter  than  in  Belgium  or  even 
in  France.     Thus  a  permis  de  sijour  is  sometimes  required  where 
none  is  in  practice  necessary  in  Paris  or  Brussels. 
Jtslj.  In  Italy  there  is  in  every  province  a  prefect  at  the  head  of  the 

police.  See  Italy. 
Nether-  The  police  in  the  Netherlands,  as  regards  the  sources  from  which 
hada.  its  powers  are  derived,  is  divided  into  the  state  police  and  the  com- 
munal police,  the  former  forming  part  of  the  general  executive 
government,  and  the  latter,  although  regulated  oy  the  executive, 
enforcing  general  and  local  police  legislation.  Regulations  for  the 
state  police  are  framed  by  the  minister  of  justice.  For  the  purposes 
of  ttie  state  police  the  country  is  divided  into  five  districts,  with  a 
dirjctor  of  police  at  the  head  of  each  district  responsible  for  the 
control  and  goverLment  of  the  state  police  within  it,  and  to  see  that 
the  laws  and  ordinances  for  the  safety  and  quietness  of  the  state, 
the  security  of  persons  and  property,  and  the  equality  of  all  before 
the  law  are  carried  out.  The  duty  specially  includes  the  supervision 
of  strangers  and  their  admission  into  and  departure  from  the  country, 
and  extends  even  to  the  enforcement  of  shooting  and  fishing  licences. 
In  each  district  there  is  an  officer  of  justice  who  directs  the  prosecu- 
tion of  criminal  offences. 

At  the  head  of  the  communal  police  stand  the  burgomasters,  and 
under  them  police  commissaries  entrusted  with  the  observance  of 
police  regulations,  whose  appointment  and  removal  rest  with  the 
crown,  but  they  are  paid  by  the  commune.  The  whole  of  the  com- 
munal police  are  bound  to  assist  the  state  police  ;  and,  on  the  other 
Land,  the  latter  assist  the  police,  especially  in  the  country  districts. 
The  duties  of  the  officer  of  justice  may  be  carried  out  by  the  com- 
missary of  police,  who  for  the  time  being  is  an  assistant  officer  of 
justice.  In  large  communes  the  police  force  is  divided  into  several 
grades.  Besides  commissaries,  of  whom  one  is  chief,  there  are  a  chief 
inspector,  classes  of  inspectors,  and  brigadiers ;  but  the  arrangements 
differ  in  almost  every  municipality. 

The  total  strength  of  the  nolice  is  6000 ;  at  The  Hague  there  is 
supposed  to  be  one  constable  to  1000  inhabitants.  Only  in 
Amsterdam,  Rotterdam,  and  The  Hague  are  there  special  depart- 
jnents  of  detective  police.  Police  salaries  vary  in  different  com- 
munes. The  highest  are  at  The  Hague,  and  range  from  600  florins 
for  a  thi;-(i>clas3  constable  to  1800  florins  for  a  chief  inspector. 
The  cost  of  the  state  police  and  the  expenses  incurred  in  prosecu- 
tions for  crime  are  defrayed  by  the  state.  The  expenses  of  the 
communal  police  are  paid  out  of  local  rates  on  houses  and  land. 

An  official  Russian  doi'ument  specially  obtained  for  this  article 
affords  the  following  scanty  particulars  regarding  the  police  in 
European  Russia. 

At  the  head  of  a  police  district  there  is  a  police  master,  who  has 
subordinate  officers  on  his  staff.  A  number  of  constables  are 
appointed,  depending  on  the  population.  Large  towns  are  sub- 
divided into  districts  with  inspectors  and  assistants,  smaller  towns 
with  an  assistant  inspector.  In  villages  police  duties  are  executed 
by  the  inhabitants  elected  for  that  purpose,  constituting  "hundreds " 
or  "tenths"  according  to  the  number  of  inhabitants.  There  is  a 
control  over  the  villages  by  the  police  of  the  district,  and  the 
governor  general  has  a  controlling  power  over  all,  including  the 
police  master.     Besides  the  ordinary  police  there  are  police  brigades 


in  large  towns  with  duties  of  a  special  kind,  as  attending  parade? 
and  fetes.  Each  member  of  the  brigade  has  five  hundred  inhabit- 
ants to  look  after  or  control.  In  the  ca|iital3  there  is  a  secret  polite 
having  a  staff  in  St  Petersburg  of  a  cliicf  and  his  assistant,  foui 
clerks,  and  twenty  inspectors,  and  in  Moscow  of  a  chief,  two  clerks, 
and  twelve  inspectors. 

The  principal  active  duties  of  the  Russian  police  comprise  tho 
enforcement  of  police  laws  and  the  suppression  of  nuisances, 
disturbances,  and  crime.  The  details  of  tliese  duties  are  laid  down 
in  a  special  Act,  which  is  subdivided  into  different  statutes,  taken 
from  the  criminal  code.  The  provincial  towns  are  governed  by  a 
special  law,  passed  in  1875,  as  .  upplementary  to  the  already  existing 
law.  The  towns  provide  tho  funds  for  the  maintenance  of  the  police. 
Laws  of  1853  regulated  the  lodgings  and  necessaries  for  the  whole 
police  staff  according  to  their  rank;  but  a  change  has  been  introduced 
since  1873,  and  many  officers  receive  payment  iu  the  place  of  lodg- 
ings.     Police  pay  varies  from  200  roubles  upwards. 

In  closing  this  article,  it  ia  well  to  observe  that  the  dia 
tinction  between  the  exercise  of  judicial  power  and  police 
functions  should  be  always  borne  in  mind.  "  The  func- 
tions of  justice  and  those  of  the  police  must  be  apt  in 
many  points  to  run  into  one  another,  especially  as  tha 
business  would  be  very  badly  managed  if  the  saraa 
persons  whose  more  particular  duty  it  is  to  act  as  officers 
of  the  police  were  not  upon  occasion  to  act  in  the  capacity 
of  officers  of  justice.  The  idea,  however,  of  the  two  func- 
tions may  still  be  kept  distinct  "  (Bentham).  The  employ- 
ment of  police  powers  in  the  ante-judiciary  part  of  criminal 
process,  which  previously  to  the  establishment  of  a  police 
force  in  England  was  thought  to  require  an  apology  as 
founded  on  convenience  and  utility  rather  than  on  prin- 
ciple, has  become  a  necessity. 

The  necessity  for  a  police  force  as  part  of  any  system  of 
orderly  government  is  exemplified  by  its  recent  introduc- 
tion into  Egypt.  Amid  differences  of  opinion  on  every 
subject,  and  even  on  the  administration  of  the  force  and 
its  duties,  the  abstract  propriety  of  a  police  force  is 
apparently  beyond  dispute. 

In  every  country  the  difficult  question,  apart  from  any 
as  to  the  extent  of  interference  with  the  freedom  of 
individual  action,  arises  in  actual  police  administration — 
Quis  custodiet  ipsos  custodes  ? 

By  whatever  name  the  head  of  a  police  force  is  known, 
whether  as  commissioner,  chief  constable,  superintendent, 
or  otherwise,  the  efficient  performance  of  his  duty  involves 
inquiry,  and  judgment  upon  that  inquiry.  The  character 
and  efficiency  of  his  force  must  largely  depend  upon  tlie 
insight  as  well  as  vigour  brought  to  bear  upon  the  indi- 
vidual members  of  that  force. 

In  relation  to  the  public  generally  a  perfect  police  codb 
must  be  full  of  restraints,  with  coextensive  powers  of 
inquiry,  even  in  matters  that  do  not  involve  punishment. 
The  extent  to  which  these  restraints  and  powers  are  applied 
greatly  depends  on  time  and  place.  Precautions  which 
are  necessary,  Bentham  observes,  at  certain  periods  of 
danger  and  trouble,  ought  not  to  be  continued  in  a  period 
of  quietness,  and  care  should  be  taken  not  to  shock  th? 
national  spirit.  One  nation  would  not  endure  what  i» 
borne  by  another.  (J.  f.  t>.) 

POLIGNAG,  an  ancient  French  family,  which  had  its 
seat  in  the  Cevennes  near  Puy-en-Velay  (Hautc-Loire). 
Cardinal  Mklchioe  de  Polignac  (1661-1742)  was  q 
younger  son  of  Armand  XVI.,  marquis  de  Polignac,  and 
at  an  early  age  achieved  distinction  as  a  diplomatist.  Iu 
1695  he  was  sent  as  ambassador  to  Poland,  where  he  con 
trived  to  bring  about  the  election  of  the  prince  of  Conti  as 
successorto  John  Sobieski  (1697).  The  subsequent  failure  of 
this  intrigue  led  to  his  temporary  disgrace,  but  in  1702  he 
was  restored  to  favour,  and  in  1712  he  was  sent  as  the 
plenipotentiary  of  Louis  XIV.  to  the  congress  of  I'trechl. 
During  the  regency  he  became  involved  in  the  Cellamare 
plot,  and  was  relegated  to  Flanders  for  three  year.s.  Fi-oiii 
172.5  to   1732  he  acted  for  France  at  the  Vatican.     In 


I 


P  0  L  — P  0  L 


345 


1726  be  received  the  archbishopric  of  Auch,  and  he  died 
at  Paris  in  1742.  He  left  unfinished  a  metrical  refutation 
of  Lucretius  which  was  published  after  his  death  by  the 
Abbd  de  Kothelin  (Aiiti-Lncrelius,  1715),  and  had  consider- 
able vogue  in  its  day.  Count  Jules  de  Polignac  (ob. 
1S17),  grand-nephew  of  the  preceding,  v/as  created  duke 
by  Louis  XVI.  in  1 780,  and  in  1782  was  made  postmaster- 
general.  His  position  and  influence  at  court  were  largely 
duo  to  his  wife,  the  bosom  friend  of  Marie  Antoinette  ;  the 
duke  and  duchess  alike  shared  the  iinpopidarity  of  the 
court,  and  were  among  the  first  who'  were  compelled  to 
"emigrate"  in  1789.  The  duchess  died  shortly  after  the 
queen,  but  her  husband,  who  had  received  an  estate  from 
Catherine  II.  in  the  Ukraine,  survived  till  1817.  Of  their 
three  sons  the  second.  Prince  Jules  de  Polignac  (1780- 
1847),  held  various  offices  after  the  restoration  of  the 
Bourbons,  received  from  the  pope  his  title  of  "  prince " 
in  1820,  and  in  1823  was  made  ambassador  to  the  court 
of  St  James's.  In-  August  8,  1829,  he  was  called  by 
Charles  X.  to  the  ministry  of  foreign  affairs,  and  in  the 
following  November  he  became  president  of  the  council. 
On  the  revolution  of  July  1830  he  fled  for  his  life, 
but  after  wandering  for  some  time  among  the  wilds  of 
Normandy  was  arrested  at  Granville.  His  trial  before 
the  chamber  of  peers  resulted  in  his  condemnation  to 
jjerpetual  imprisonment  (at  ^Ham),  but  he  benefited 
by  the  amnesty  of  1836,  when  the  sentence  was  com- 
muted to  one  of  exile.  During  his  captivity  he  wrote 
ConsidSrations  politiqves  (1832).  He  afterwards  spent 
some  years  in  England,  but  finally  was  permitted  to  re- 
enter France  on  condition  that  he  did  not  take  up  his 
abode  in  Paris.  He  died  at  St  Germain  on  March  29, 
1847. 

POLILLO.     See  Philippine  Islands. 

POLITIAN  (1454-1494).  Angelo  Ambrogini,  known 
in  literary  annals  as  Angelo  Poliziano  or  Politiands 
from  his  birth-place,  was  born  at  Montepulciano  in 
Tuscany  in  the  year  1454.  His  father,  Benedetto,  a  jurist 
of  good  family  and  distinguished  ability,  was  murdered 
by  political  antagonists  for  adopting  the  cause  of  Piero  de' 
Medici  in  Monteimlciano  ;  and  this  circumstance  gave  his 
eldest  son,  Angelo,  a  claim  on  the  family  of  Medici.  At 
the  age  of  ten  the  boy  came  to  prosecute  his  studies  at 
Florence,  where  he  learned  Latin  under  Cristoforo  Landino, 
and  Greek  under  Argyropulos  and  Andronicos  Kallistos. 
From  Marsilio  Ficino  he  imbibed  the  rudiments  of  philo- 
sophy. The  ])recocity  of  his  genius  for  scholarship  and 
poetry  was  early  manifested.  At  thirteen  years  of  ago  ho 
be<,'an  to  circulate  Latin  letters  ;  at  seventeen  he  sent  forth 
essays  in  Greek  versification  ;  at  eighteen  he  published  an 
edition  of  Catullus.  In  1470  ho  won  for  himself  the  title 
of  Ilomericus  juvenis  by  translating  four  books  of  the  Iliad 
into  Latin  hexameters.  Lorenzo  do'  Medici,  who  was 
then  the  autocrat  of  Florence  and  the  chief  patron  of 
learning  in  Italy,  took  Poliziano  into  his  household,  made 
him  the  tutor  of  his  children,  and  secured  him  a  distin- 
guished post  in  the  university  of  Florence.  Before  he 
reached  the  age  of  thirty,  Poliziano  expounded  the  humani- 
ties with  almost  unexampled  lustre  even  for  that  epoch  of 
brilliant  professors.  Among  his  pupils  could  bo  numbered 
the  chief  students  of  Europe,  the  men  who  were  destined 
to  carry  to  their  homes  the  spolia  opima  of  Italian  culture. 
Not  to  mention  Italians,  it  will  suftico  to  record  the  names 
of  the  German  Reuchlin,  the  English  Grocyn  and  Linacro, 
and  the  Portuguese  Tossiras.  Poliziano  had  few  advantages 
of  person  to  recommend  him.  He  was  ungainly  in  form, 
with  eyes  that  squinted,  and  a  nose  of  disproportionate 
length.  Yet  his  voice  was  rich  and  capable  of  fmo  modu- 
lation ;  his  eloquence,  ease  of  utterance,  and  copious  stream 
of  erudition  were  incomiiaraliltT.     It  was   the   method  of 


professors  at  that  period  to  read  the  Greek  and  Latin 
authors  with  their  class,  dictating  philological  and  critical 
notes,  emending  corrupt  passages  in  the  received  texts,  offer- 
ing elucidation:  of  the  matter,  and  pouring  forth  stores 
of  acquired  knowledge  regarding  the  laws,  manners,  reli- 
gious and  jihilosophical  opinions  of  the  ancients.  Poliziano 
covered  nearly  the  whole  ground  of  classical  literature  during 
the  years  of  his  professorship,  and  published  the  notes  of 
his  courses  upon  Ovid,  Suetoniu.s,  Statins,  the  j'ounger 
Pliny,  Quintilian,  and  the  writers  of  Augustan  histories. 
He  also  undertook  a  recension  of  the  text  of  the  PandecU 
of  Justinian,  which  formed  the  subject  of  one  of  his  courses; 
and  this  recension,  though  it  does  not  rant:  high  in  the  scale 
of  juristic  erudition,  gave  an  impulse  to  the  scholarly  criti- 
cism of  the  Roman  code.  At  the  same  time  he  was  busy 
as  a  translator  from  the  Greek.  His  versions  of  Epictetus, 
Herodian,  Hippocrates,  Galen,  Plutarch's  Eroticus,  and 
Plato's  Charmides  delighted  contemporaries  by  a  certain 
limpid  fluency  of  Latin  style  and  grace  of  manner  which  dis- 
tinguished him  also  as  an  original  writer.  Of  these  learned 
labours  the  most  universally  acceptable  to  the  public  of  that 
time  were  a  series  of  discursive  essays  on  philology  and  criti- 
cism, first  published  in  1489  under  the  title  of  Miscellanea. 
They  had  an  immediate,  a  lasting,  and  a  wide  renown, 
encouraging  the  scholars  of  the  next  century  and  a  half  to 
throw  their  occasional  discoveries  in  the  field  of  scholar.ship 
into  a  form  at  once  so  attractive  and  so  instructive.  Poli- 
ziano was  not,  however,  contented  with  these  simply  pro- 
fessorial and  scholastic  compositions.  Nature  had  endowed 
him  with  literary  and  poetic  gifts  of  the  highest  order. 
These  he  devoted  to  the  composition  of  Latin  and  Greek 
verses,  which  count  among  the  best  of  those  produced  by 
men  of  modern  times  in  rivalry  with  ancient  authors.  The 
Manio,  in  which  he  pronounced  a  panegyric  of  Virgil ;  the 
Ambra,  which  contains  a  beautiful  idyllic  sketch  of  Tuscan 
landscape,  and  a  studied  eulogy  of  Homer  ;  the  Eusticus, 
which  celebrated  the  pleasures  of  country  life  in  no  frigid 
or  scholastic  spirit ;  and  the  Nntricia,  which  was  intended 
to  serve  as  a  general  introduction  to  the  study  of  ancient 
and  modern  poetry, — these  are  the  masterpieces  of  Poliziano 
in  Latin  verso,  displaying  an  authenticity  of  inspiration, 
a  sincerity  of  feeling,  and  a  command  of  metrical  rcsourcea 
which  mark  them  out  as  original  productions  of  poetic 
genius  rather  than  as  merely  professorial  lucubrations. 
Exception  may  be  taken  to  their  style,  when  compared 
with  the  best  work  of  the  Augustan  or  even  of  the  Silver 
age.  But  what  renders  them  always  noteworthy  to  the 
student  of  modern  humanistic  literature  is  that  they  are 
in  no  sense  imitative  or  conventional,  but  that  they  convey 
the  genuine  thoughts  and  emotions  of  a  born  poet  in 
Latin  diction  and  in  metre  moulded  to  suit  the  character- 
istics of  the  singer's  temperament. 

Poliziano  was  great  as  a  scholar,  as  a  professor,  as  a 
critic,  and  as  a  Latin  poet  at  an  age  when  the  classics 
were  still  studied  with  the  passion  of  assimilative  curiosity, 
and  not  witli  the  scientific  industry  of  a  later  period.  He 
was  the  representative  hero  of  that  ago  of  scholarship  in 
which  students  drew  their  ideal  of  life  from  antiquity  and 
fondly  dreamed  that  they  might  so  restore  the  past  as  to 
compete  with  the  classics  in  production  and  bequeath  a 
golden  age  p(  resuscitated  i)agauism  tt-  the  modern  world. 
Yet  ho  was  even  greater  as  an  Italian  poet.  Between 
Boccaccio  and  Ariosto,  no  single  poet  in  the  mother  tongue 
of  Italy  deserves  so  high  a  place  as  Poliziano.  What  he 
might  have  achieved  in  this  dci)artmont  of  literature  had 
ho  lived  at  a  period  less  preoccupied  with  humanistic 
studios,  and  had  ho  found  a  congenial  sphere  for  his 
activity,  can  only  be  guessed.  As  it  is,  we  must  reckon 
him  as  decidedly  the  foremost  and  indubitubly  tho  moat 
highly  gifted  among  tho  Italian  Doeta  who  obeyed  Loronza 


346 


P  O  L  — P  O  L 


de'  Medici's  demaiid  foT  S  Resuscitation  of  the  vulgar 
literature.  Lorenzo  led  the  way  himself,  and  Poliziano 
was  more  a  follower  in  his  path  than  an  initiator.  Yet 
what  Poliziano  produced,  impelled  ^y  a  courtly  wish  to 
satisfy  his  patron's  whim,  proves  his  own  immeasurable 
superiority  as  an  artist.  His  principal  Italian  works  are 
the  stanzas  called  La  Giostra,  written  upon  Giuliano  de' 
Medici's  victory  in  a  tournament ;  the  Orfeo,  a  lyrical 
drama  performed  at  Mantua  with  musical  accompaniment ; 
and  a  collection  of  fugitive  pieces,  reproducing  various 
forms  of  Tuscan  popular  poetry.  La  Giostra  had  no  plan, 
and  remained  imperfect ;  but  it  demonstrated  the  capaci- 
ties of  the  octave  stanza  for  rich,  harmonious,  and  sonorous 
metrical  effect.  The  Orfeo  is  a  slight  piece  of  work, 
thrown  off  at  a  heat,  yet  abounding  in  unpremeditated 
lyrical  beauties,  and  containing  in  itself  the  germ  both  of 
the  pastoral  play  and  of  the  opera.  The  Tuscan  songs  are 
di.stinguished  by  a  "roseate  fluency,"  an  exquisite  charm 
of  half  romantic  half  humorous  abandonment  to  fancy, 
which  mark  them  out  as  improvisations  of  genius.  It  may 
be  added  that  in  all  these  departments  of  Italian  composi- 
tion Poliziano  showed  how  the  taste  and  learning  of  a 
classical  scholar  could  be  engrafted  on  the  stock  of  the 
vernacular,  and  how  the  highest  perfection  of  artistic  form 
might  be  attained  in  Italian  without  a  sacrifice  of  native 
spontaneity  and  natural  flow  of  language. 

It  is  difficult  to  combine  in  one  view  the  several  aspects 
presented  to  us  by  this  many-sided  man  of  literary  genius. 
At  a  period  when  humanism  took  the  lead  in  forming 
Italian  character  and  giving  tone  to  European  culture,  he 
climbed  with  facility  to  the  height  of  achievement  in  all 
the  branches  of  scholarship  which  were  then  most  seriously 
prized — in  varied  knowledge  of  ancient  authors,  in  critical 
capacity,  in  rhetorical  and  poetical  exuberance.  This  was 
enough  at  that  epoch  to  direct  the  attention  of  all  the 
learned  men  of  Europe  on  Poliziano.  At  the  same  time, 
almost  against  his  own  inclination,  certainly  with  very 
little  enthusiasm  on  his  part,  he  lent  himself  so  success- 
fully to  Lorenzo  de'  Medici's  scheme  for  resuscitating  the 
decayed  literature  of  Tuscany  that  his  slightest  Italian 


effusions  exercised  a  potent  influence  on  the  immedfati 
future.  He  appears  before  us  as  the  dictator  of  Italian 
culture  in  a  double  capacity — as  the  man  who  most  per- 
fectly expressed  the  Italian  conception  of  humanism,  and 
brought  erudition  into  accord  with  the  pursuit  of  noble 
and  harmonious  form,  and  also  as  the  man  whose  verna- 
cular compositions  were  more  significant  than  any  others 
of  the  great  revolution  in  favour  of  Italian  poetry  which 
culminated  in  Ariosto.  Beyond  the  sphere  of  pure  scholar- 
ship and  pure  literature  Poliziano  did  not  venture.  He 
was  present,  indeed,  at  the  attack  made  by  the  Pazzi 
conspirators  on  the  persons  of  Lorenzo  and  Giuliano  de' 
Medici,  and  wrote  an  interesting  account  of  its  partial 
success.  He  also  contributed  a  curious  document  on  tho 
death  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  to  the  students  of  Florentine 
history.  But  he  was  not,  like  many  other  humanists  of 
his  age,  concerned  in  public  affairs  of  state  or  diplomacy, 
and  he  held  no  office  except  that  of  professor  at  Florence. 
His  private  life  was  also  uneventful.  He  passed  it  as  a 
house-friend  and  dependant  of  the  Medici,  as  the  idol  of 
the  learned  world,  and  as  a  simple  man  of  letters  for  whom 
(with  truly  Tuscan  devotion  to  the  Saturnian  country) 
rural  pleasures  were  always  .  acceptable.'  He  was  never 
married ;  and  his  morals  incurred  suspicion,  to  which  his 
own  Greek  verses  lend  a  certain  amount  of  plausible 
colouring.  In  character  Poliziano  was  decidedly  inferior 
to  the  intellectual  and  literary  eminence,  which  he  dis- 
played. He  died  half  broken-hearted  by  the  loss  of  his 
friend  and  patron  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  in  1-194,  at  the  age 
of  forty,  just  before  the  wave  of  foreign  invasion  which 
was  gathering  in  France  swept  over  Italy. 

For  the  life  and  works .  of  Politian,  consult  F.  0.  Jleucken 
(Leipsic,  «736),  a  vast  repertory  of  accumulated  erudition  ;  Jac. 
Mahly,  Angelus  PolUianus  (Leipsic,  1864);  Carducci's  edition  of 
tlie  Italian  poems  (Florence,  Barbera,  1863);  Del  Lungo's  edition 
of  the  Italian  prose  works  and  Latin  and  Greek  poems  (Florence, 
Barbera,  1867);  the  Opera  Omnia  (Basel,  155i);  Greswell's  English 
Zi/e  of  Politian  ;  Roscoe's  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  ;  Von  Keumont's  Li/e 
of  Lorenzo  rf«'  Medici  ;  Symonds's  Menaissanc^  in  Itahj,  and  transla- 
tions from  Poliziano 's  Italian  poems  in  his  Sketches  and  Studies  in 
Italy,  which  include  the  Orfeo.  (J.  A.  S.) 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


THE  present  condition  of  the  study  of  political  economy 
seems  to  prescribe,  as  most  suitable  for  these  pages,  a 
treatment  of  the  subject  differerit  from  that  adopted  in 
relation  to  other  departments  of  knowledge.  There  pre- 
vails wide-spread  dissatisfaction  with  the  existing  state  of 
economic  science,  and  much  difference  of  opinion  both  as 
to  its  method  and  as  to  its  doctrines.  There  is,  in  fact, 
reason  to  believe  that  it  has  now  entered  on  a  transition 
stage,  and  is  destined  ere  long  to  undergo  a  considerable 
transformation.  Hence  it  has  appeared  to  be  unseasonable, 
and  therefore  inexpedient,  to  attempt  in  this  place  a  new 
dogmatic  treatise  on  political  economy.  What  is  known  as 
the. "  orthodox  "  or  "  classical  "  system,  though  in  our  time 
■very  generally  called  in  question,  is  to  be  found  set  out  in 
numerous  text-books  accessible  to  every  one  Again,  some 
of  the  most  important  special  branches  of  economics  are  so 
fully  explained  and  discussed  in  other  parts  of  the  present 
■work  (see  B.inking,  Exchange,  Finance,  Money,  &c.)  as 
to  dispense  with  any  further  treatment  of  them  here.  It 
has  been  thought  that  the  mode  of  handling  the  subject 
most  appropriate  to  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  and  likely 
to  be  most  profitable,  would  be  that  of  tracing  histonically 
firora  a  general  point  of  view  the  course  of  speculation 
regarding  economic  phenomena,  and  contemplating  the  suc- 
cessive forms  of  opiuion  concerning  them  as  products  of 
the  periods  at  which  they  were  respectively  evolved. 


Such  a  study  is  in  harmony  with  the  best  intellectual 
tendencies  of  our  age,  which  is,  more  than  anything  else, 
characterized  by  the  universal  supremacy  of  the  historical 
spirit.  To  such  a  degree  has  this  spirit  permeated  all  our 
modes  of  thinking  that  with  respect  to  every  branch  of 
knowledge,  no  less  than  with  respect  to  every  institution 
and  every  form  of  human  activitj-,  we  almost  instinctively 
ask,  not  merely  what  is  its  existing  condition,  but  what 
were  its  earliest  discoverable  germs,  and  what  has  been 
the  course  of  its  development  1  The  assertion  of  J.  B.  Sa.y 
that  the  history  of  political  economy  is  of  little  value, 
being  for  the  most  part  a  record  of  absurd  and  justly 
exploded  opinions,  belongs  to  a  system  of  ideas  already 
obsolete,  and  requires  at  the  present  time  no  formal  refuta- 
tion. It  deserves  notice  only  as  reminding  us  that  we 
must  discriminate  between  history  and  antiquarianism : 
what  from  the  first  had  no  significance  it  is  mere  pedantry 
to  study  now.  We  need  concern  ourselves  only  with 
those  modes  of  thinking  which  have  prevailed  largely  and 
seriously  influenced  practice  in  the  past,  or  in  which  we 
can  discover  the  roots  of  the  present  and  the  future. 

When  we  thus  place  ourselves  at  the  point  of  view  of 
history,  it  becomes  unnecessary  to  discuss  the  definition  of 
political  economy,  or  to  enlarge  on  its  method,  at  the  out- 
set. It  will  suffice  to  conceive  it  as  the  theory  of  social 
wealth,  or  to  accept  provisionally  Say's  definition  which 


r  O  L  1  T 


I  C  A  L      ECONOMY' 


347 


makes  it  the  science  of  the  production,  distribution,  and 
consumption  of  wealth.  Any  supplementary  ideas  which 
require  to  be  taken  into  account  will  be  suggested  in- the 
progress  of  our  survey,  and  the  determination  of  the 
proper  method  of  economic  research  will  be  treated  as  one 
of  the  principal  results  of  the  historical  evolution  of  the 
science. 

The  history  of  political  economy  must  of  course  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  economic  history  of  mankind,  or  of 
any  separate  portion  of  our  race.  The  study  of  the  suc- 
cession of  economic  facts  themselves  is  one  thing ;  the 
study  of  the  succession  of  theoretic  ideas  concerning  the 
facts  is  another.  And  it  is  with  the  latter  alone  that  we 
are  here  directly  concerned.  But  these  two  branches  of 
research,  though  distinct,  yet  stand  in  the  closest  relation 
to  each  other.  The  rise  and  the  form  of  economic 
doctrines  have  been  largely  conditioned  by  the  practical 
situation,  needs,  and  tendencies  of  the  corresponding 
epochs.  With  each  important  social  change  new  economic 
questions  have  presented  themselves ;  and  the  theories 
prevailing  in  each  period  have  owed  much  of  their  influ- 
ence to  the  fact  that  they  seemed  to  o£Eer  solutions  of 
the  urgent  problems  of  the  age.  Again,  every  thinker, 
however  in  some  respects  he  may  stand  above  or  before 
^is  contemporaries,  is  yet  a  child  of  his  time,  and  cannot 
be  isolated  from  the  social  medium  in  which  he  lives  and 
moves.  He  will  necessarily  bo  affected  by  the  circum- 
stances which  surround  him,  and  in  particular  by  the 
practical  exigencies  of  which  his  fellows  feel  the  strain. 
This  connexion  of  theory  with  practice  has  its  advantages 
and  its  dangers.  It  tends  to  give  a  real  and  positive 
character  to  theoretic  inquiry ;  but  it  may  also  be  expected 
to  produce  exaggerations  in  doctrine,  to  lend  undue  pro- 
minence to  particular  sides  of  the  truth,  and  to  make 
transitory  situations  or  temporary  expedients  be  regarded 
as  universally  normal  conditions. 

There  are  other  relations  which  we  must  not  overlook 
in  tracing  the  progress  of  economic  opinion.  The  several 
branches  of  the  science  of  society  are  so  closely  connected 
that  the  history  of  no  one  of  them  can  with  perfect 
rationality  be  treated  apart,  though  such  a  treatment  is 
recommended — indeed  necessitated— by  practical  utility. 
The  movement  of  economic  thought  is  constantly  and 
powerfully  affected  by  the  prevalent  mode  of  thinking, 
and  even  the  habitual  tone  of  sentiment,  on  social  subjects 
generally.  All  the  intellectual  manifestations  of  a  period 
in  relation  to  human  questions  have  a  kindred  character, 
and  boar  a  certain  stamp  of  homogeneity,  which  is  vaguely 
present  to  our  minds  when  we  speak  of  the  spirit  of  the 
age.  Social-  speculation  again,  and  economic  research  as 
one  branch  of  it,  is  both  through  its  philosophic  method 
and  through  its  doctrine  under  the  influence  of  those 
simpler  sciences  which  in  the  order  of  development  precede 
the  social,  especially  of  the  science  of  organic  nature. 

It  is  of  the'  highest  importance  to  bear  in  mind  these 
several  relations  of  economic  research  both  to  external  cir- 
cumstance and  to  other  spheres  of  contemporarj'  thought, 
because  by  keeping  them  in  view  we  shall  be  led  to  form 
loss  absolute  and  therefore  juster  estimates  of  the  succes- 
sive phases  of  opinion.  Instead  of  merely  praising  or 
blaming  these  according  to  the  degrees  of  their  accordance 
with  a  predetermined  standard  of  doctrine,  wo  shall  view 
them  as  elements  in  an  ordered  series,  to  bo  studied 
mainly  with  respect  to  their  filiation,  their  opportuneness, 
and  their  influences.  We  shall  not  regard  each  new  step 
in  this  theoretic  development  as  implying  an  unconditional 
negation  of  earlier  views,  which  often  had  a  relative  justi- 
fication, resting,  as  they  did,  on  a  rcaly  though  narrower, 
basis  of  experience,  or  assuming  the  existence  of  a  different 
social  order.     Nor  shall  we  consider  all  the  theoretic  posi- 


tions now  occupied  as  definitive ;  for  the  practical  system 
of  life  which  they  tacitly  assume  is  itself  susceptible  of 
change,  and  destined,  without  doubt,  more  or  less  to 
undergo  it.  Within  the  limits  of  a  sketch  like  the  present 
these  considerations  cannot  be  fully  worked  out ;  but  an 
effort  will  be  made  to  keep  them  in  view,  and  to  mark  the 
relations  here  indicated,  wherever  their  influence  is  speci- 
ally important  or  interesting. 

The  particular  situation  and  tendencies  of  the  several 
thinkers  whos3  names  are  associated  with  economic 
doctrines  have,  of  course,  modified  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree  the  spirit  or  form  of  thosg  doctrines.  Their  rela- 
tion to  special  predecessors,  their  native  temperament, 
their  early  training,  their  religious  prepossessions  and 
political  partialities,  have  all  had  their  efltects.  To  these 
we  shall  in  some  remarkable  instances  direct  attention ; 
but,  in  the  main,  they  are,  for  our  present  purpose, 
secondary  and  subordinate.  The  ensemlle  must  prepon- 
derate over  the  individual;  and  the  constructors  of 
theories  must  be  regarded  as  organs  of  a  common  intel- 
lectual and  social  movement. 

The  history  of  economic  inquiry  is  most  naturally 
divided  into  the  three  great  periods  of  (1)  the  ancient,  (2) 
the  mediaeval,  and  (3)  the  modern  worlds.  In  the  two 
former,  this  branch  of  study  could  exist  only  in  a  rudi- 
mentary state.  It  is  evident  that  for  any  considerable 
development  of  social  theory  two  conditions  must  be  ful- 
filled. First,  the  phenomena  must  have  exhibited  them- 
selves on  a  suSiciently  extended  scale  to  supply  adequate 
matter  for  observation,  and  afford  a  satisfactory  basis  for^ 
scientific  generalizations;  and  secondly,  whilst  the  spectacle 
is  thus  provided,  the  spectator  must  have  been  trained  for 
his  task,  and  armed  with  the  appropriate  aids  and  instru- 
ments of  research,  that  is  to  say,  there  must  have  been 
such  a  previous  cultivation  of  the  less  complex  sciences  as 
will  have  both  furnished  the  necessary  data  of  doctrine 
and  prepared  the  proper  methods  of  investigation.  Socio- 
logy requires  to  use  for  its  purposes  theorems  which 
belong  to  the  domains  of  physics  and  biology,  and  which 
it  must  borrow  from  their  professors ;  and,  on  the  logical 
side,  the  methods  which  it  has  to  employ — deductive, 
ob.scrvational,  comparative — must  have  been  previously 
shaped  in  the  cultivation  of  mathematics  and  the  study 
of  the  inorganic  world  or  of  organisms  less  complex  than 
the  social.  Hence  it  is  plain  that,  though  some  laws  or 
tendencies  of  society  must  have  been  forced  on  men's 
attention  in  every  ago  by  practical  exigencies  which  could 
not  be  postponed,  and  though  the  questions  thus  raised 
must  have  received  some  empirical  solution,  a  really  scien- 
tific sociology  must  be  the  product  of  a  very  advanced 
stage  of  intellectual  development.  And  this  is  true  of  the 
economic,  as  of  other  branches  of  social  theory.  We  shall 
therefore  content  ourselves  with  a  general  outline  of  tho 
character  of  economic  thought  in  antiquity  and  tho  Middle 
Ages,  and  of  tho  conditions  which  determined  that 
character. 

Ancient  Times. 

The  Oriental  Theoa-ncifs.—T\^Q:  earliest  surviving  expres- 
sions of  thought  on  economic  subject'"  have  conio  down  to 
us  from  tho  Oriental  theocracies.  Tho  general  spirit  of 
tho  corresponding  typo  of  social  life  consisted  in  taking, 
imitation  for  tho  fumlamental  principle  of  education,  and 
consolidating  nascent  civilization  by  heredity  of  the  differ- 
ent functions  and  professions,  or  even  by  a  syHtem  of  castes, 
hierarchically  subordinated  to  each  other  according  to  tlio 
nature  of  their  respective  offices,  under  the  common  suiiremo 
direction  of  the  sacerdotal  caste.  This  la.st  was  charged 
with  the  traditional  stock  of  conceptions,  and  their  applica- 
tion for  purposes  of  discipline.     It  sought  to  realize  a  com- 


348 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


plete^ regulation  of  human  life  in  all  its  departments  on  the 
basis  of  this  transmitted  body  of  practical  ideas.  Conserva- 
tion is  the  principal  task  of  this  social  order,  and  its  most 
remarkable  quality  is  stability,  which  tends  to  degenerate 
into  stagnation.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  useful 
arts  v/ere  long,  though  slowly,  progressive  under  this  regime, 
from  which  they  were  inherited  by  the  later  civilizations, — 
the  system  of  classes  or  castes  maintaining  the  degree  of 
di'vision  of  labour  which  had  been  reached  in  those  early 
periods'.  The  eminent  members  of  the  corporations  which 
presided  over  the  theocracies  without  doubt  gave  much 
earnest  thought  to  the  conduct  of  industry,  which,  unlike 
war,  did  lyst  imperil  their  political  pre-eminence  by  deve- 
loping a  rival  class.  But,  conceiving  life  as  a  whole,  and 
making  its  regulation  their  primary  aim,  they  naturally 
considered  most  the  social  reactions  which  industry  is  fitted 
to  exercise.  The  moral  side  of  economics  is  the  one  they 
habitually  contemplate,  or  (what  is  not  the  same)  the 
economic  side  of  morals.  They  abound  in  those  warnings 
against  greed  and  the  haste  to  be  rich  which  religion  and 
philosophy  have  in  all  ages  seen  to  be  necessary.  They 
rhsist  on  honesty  in  mutual  dealings,  on  just  weights  and 
measures,  on  the  faithful  observance  of  contracts.  They 
admonish  against  the  pride  and  arrogance  apt  to  be  gene- 
rated b}'  riches,  against  undue  prodigality  and  self-indulg- 
ence, and  enforce  the  duties  of  justice  and  beneficence 
towards  servants  and  inferiors.  Whilst,  in  accordance 
with  the  theological  spirit,  the  personal  acquisition  of 
wealth  is  in  general  thesis  represented  as  determined  by 
divine  wills,  its  dependence  on  individual  diligence  and 
thrift  is  emphatically  taught.  There  is  indeed  in  the 
fully  developed  theocratic  systems  a  tendency  to  carry 
precept,  which  there  differs  little  from  command,  to  an 
excessive  degree  of  minuteness, -^-to  prescribe  in  detail  the 
time,  the  mode,  and  the  accompaniments  of  almost  every 
act  of  every  member  of  the  community.  This  system  of 
exaggerated  surveillance  is  connected  with  the  union,  or 
rather  confusion,  of  the  spiritual  and  temporal  powers, 
whence  it  results  that  many  parts  of  the  government  of 
society  are  conducted  by  direct  injunction  or  restraint, 
which  at  a  later  stage  are  intrusted  to  general  intellectual 
and  moral  influences. 

Greeh  and  Roman  Antiquity. — The  practical  economic 
enterprises  or  Greek  and  Roman  antiquity  could  not,  even 
independently  of  any  special  adverse  influences,  have  com- 
peted in  magnitude  of  scale  or  Variety  of  resource  with 
those  of  modern  times.  The  imadvanced  condition  of 
physical  science  prevented  a  large  application  of  the  less 
obvious  natural  powers  to  production,  or  the  extensive  use 
of  machinery,  which  has  acquired  such  an  immense 
development  as  a  factor  in  modern  industry.  The  imper- 
fection of  geographical  knowledge  and  of  the  means  of 
communication  and  transport  were  impediments  to  the 
growth  of  foreign  commerce.  These  obstacles  arose  neces- 
sarily out  of  the  mero  immaturity  of  the  industrial  life  of 
the  periodd  in  question.  But  more  deeply  rooted  impedi- 
ments to  »  vigorous  and  expansive  economic  practical 
system  existed  in  the  characteristic  principles  of  the  civi- 
lization of  antiquity.  Some  writers  have  attempted  to  set 
-aside  the  distinction  between  the  ancient  and  modern 
worlds  as  imaginary  or  unimportant,  and,  whilst  admitting 
the  broad  separation  between  ourselves  and  the  theocratic 
peoples  of  the  East,  to  represent  the  Greeks  and  Eomans 
as  standing  on  a  substantially  similar  ground  of  thought, 
feeling,  and  action  with  the  Western  populations  of  our 
own  time.  But  this  is  a  serious  error,  arising  from  the 
same  too  exclusive  preoccupation  with  the  cultivated 
classes  and  with  the  mere  speculative  intellect  which  has 
often  led  to  an  undue  disparagement  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Tbeie  is  this  essential  difierence  between  the  spirit  and 


life  of  ancient  and  ot  modern  communities,  that  the  formof 
were  organized  for  war,  the  latter  during  their  whole 
history  have  increasingly  tended  to  be  organ-zed  for 
industry,  as  their  practical  end  and  aim.  The  profound 
influence  of  these  differing  conditions  on  every  form  of 
human  activity  must  never  be  overlooked  or  forgotten. 
With  the  military  constitution  of  ancient  societies  the 
institution  of  slavery  was  essentially  connected.  Far  from 
being  an  excrescence  on  the  contemporary  system  of  life, 
as  it  was  in  the  modern  West  Indies  or  the  United  States 
of  America,  it  was  so  entirely  ih  harmony  with  that  life 
that  the  most  eminent  thinkers  regarded  it  as  iio  less 
indispensable  than  inevitable.  It  does,  indeed,  seem  to 
have  been  a  temporary  necessity,  and  on  the  whole,  regard 
being  had  to  what  might  have  taken  its  place,  a  relative 
good.  But  it  was  attended  with  manifold  evils.  It  led 
to  the  prevalence  amongst  the  citizen  class  of  a  contempt 
for  industrial  occupations ;  every  form  of  production,  with 
a  partial  exception  in  favour  of  agriculture,  was  branded 
as  unworthy  of  a  free  man, — the  only  noble  forms  of 
activity  being  those  directly  connected  with  public  life, 
whether  military  or  administrative.  Labour  was  degraded 
by  the  relegation  of  most  departments  of  it  to  the  servile 
class,  above  whom  the  free  artisans  were  but  little  elevated 
in  general  esteem.  The  agents  of  production,  being  for 
the  most  part  destitute  of  intellectual  cultivation  and 
excluded  from  any  share  in  civic  ideas,  interests,  or  efforts, 
were  unfitted  in  character  as  well  as  by  position  for  the 
habits  of  skilful  combination  and  vigorous  initiation 
which  the  progress  of  industry  demands.  To  this  must 
be  added  that  the  comparative  insecurity  of  life  and  pro- 
perty arising  out  of  military  habits,  and  the  consequent 
risks  which  attended  accumulation,  were  grave  obstructions 
to  the  formation  of  large  capitals,  and  to  the  establishment 
of  an  effective  system  of  credit.  These  causes  conspired 
with  the  undeveloped  state  of  knowledge  and  of  social 
relations  in  giving  to  the  economic  life  of  the  ancients  the 
limitation  and  monotony  which  contrast  so  strongly  with 
the  inexhaustible  resource,  the  ceaseless  expansion,  and 
the  thousandfold  variety  of  the  same  activities  in  the 
modern  world.  It  is,  of  course,  absurd  to  expect  incom- 
patible qualities  in  any  social  system  ;  each  system  must 
be  estimated  according  to  the  work  it  has  to  do.  Now 
the  historical  vocation  of  the  ancient  civilization  was  to  be 
accomplished,  not  through  industry,  but  through  war, 
which  was  in  the  end  to  create  a  condition  of  things 
admitting  of  its  own  elimination  and  of  the  foundation  of 
a  regime  based  on  pacific  activity. 

The  Greeks. — This  office  was,  however,  reserved  for 
Eome,  as  the  final  result  of  her  system  of  conquest ;  the 
military  activity  of  Greece,  though  continuous,  was  inco- 
herent and  sterile,  except  in  the  defence  against  Persia, 
and  did  not  issue  in  the  accomplishment  of  any  such  social 
mission.  It  was,  doubtless,  the  inadequacy  of  the  warrior 
life,  under  these  conditions,  to  absorb  the  faculties  of  the 
race,  that  threw  the  energies  of  its  most  eminent  members 
into  the  channel  of  intellectual  activity,  and  produced  a 
singularly  rapid  evolution  of  the  aesthetic,  philosophic,  and 
scientific  germs  transmitted  by  the  theocratic  societies. 

In  the  Works  and  Days  of  Hesiod,  we  find  an  order  of 
thinking  in  the  economic  sphere  very  similar  to  that  of  the 
theocracies.  With  a  recognition  of  the  divine  disposing 
power,  and  traditional  rules  of  sacerdotal  origin,  is  com- 
bined practical  sagacity  embodied  in  precept  or  proverbial 
saying.  But  the  development  of  abstract  thought,  begin- 
ning from  the  time  of  Thales,  soon  gives  to  Greek  culture 
its  characteristic  form,  and  marks  a  new  epoch  in  the  intel- 
lectual history  of  mankind. 

The  movement  v/as  n»w  begun,  destined  to  mould  the 
whole  future  of  humanity,  which,  gradually  sapping  the 


POLITICAL      ECONOMY 


349 


tbid  hereditary  structure  of  theological  convictions,  tended 
lo  the  substitution  of  rational  theories  in  every  department 
of  speculation.  The  eminent  Greek  thinkers,  while  taking 
a  deep  interest  in  the  rise  of  positive  seience,  and  most  of 
them  studying  the  only  science — that  of  geometry — then 
assuming  its  definitive  character,  were  led  by  the  social 
exigencies  which  always  powerfully  affect  great  minds  to 
study  with  special  care  the  nature  of  man  and  the  con- 
ditions of  his  existence  in  society.  These  studies  were 
indeed  essentially  premature;  a  long  development  of  the 
inorganic  find  vital  sciences  was  necessary  before  sociology 
or  morals  could  attain  their  norn'Jal  constitution.  But  by 
their  prosecution  amongst  the  Greeks  a  noble  intellectual 
activity  was  kept  alive,  and  many  of  those  partial  lights 
obtainad  for  which  mankind  cannot  afford  to  wait. 
Economic  inquiries,  along  with  others,  tended  towards 
rationality ;  Plutus  was  dethroned,  and  terrestrial  sub- 
stituted for  supernatural  agencies.  But  such  inquiries, 
resting  on  no  Sufficiently  large  basis  of  practical  life,  could 
not  attain  any  considerable  results.  The  military  consti- 
tution of  society,  and  the  existence  of  slavery,  which  was 
related  to  it,  leading,  as  has  been  shown,  to  a  low  estimate 
of  productive  industry,  turned  away  the  habitual  attention 
of  thinkers  from  that  domain.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
absorption  of  citizens  in  the  life  of  the  state,  and  their 
preoccupation  with  party  struggles,  brought  questions 
relating  to  politics,  properly  so  called,  into  special  promin- 
ence. The  principal  writers  on  social  subjects  are  there- 
fore almost  exclusively  occupied  with  tho  examination  and 
comparison  of  political  constitutions,  and  with  the  search 
after  the  education  best  adapted  to  train  the  ^itizen  for 
public  functions.  And  we  find,  accordingly,  in  them  no 
systematic  or  adequate  handling  of  economic  questions, — 
only  some  happy  ideas  and  striking  partial  anticipations 
of  later  research. 

In  their  thinking  on  such  questions,  as  on  all  sociological 
subjects,  the  following  general  features  are  observable. 

1.  The  individual  is  conceived  as  subordinated  to  the 
state,  through  which  alone  his  nature  can  be  developed  and 
completed,  and  to  the  maintenance  and  service  of  which 
all  his  efforts  must  be  directed.  The  great  aim  of  all  poli- 
tical thought  is  the  formation  of  good  citizens  ;  every  social 
question  is  studied  primarily  from  the  ethical  and  educa- 
tional point  of  view.  The  citizen  is  not  regarded  as  a 
producer,  but  only  as  a  possessor,  of  material  wealth ;  and 
this  wealth  is  not  esteemed  for  its  cAvn  sake  or  for  the 
enjoyments  it  procures,  but  for  the  higher  moral  and  public 
aims  to  which  it  may  be  made  sub.servient. 

2.  The  state,  therefore,  claims  and  exercises  a  control- 
ling and  regulating  authority  over  every  sphere  of  social 
life,  including  the  economic,  in  order  to  bring  individual 
action  into  harmony  with  the  good  of  the  whole. 

3.  With  these  fundamental  notions  is  combined  a  tend- 
ency to  attribute  to  institutions  and  to  legislation  an 
unlimited  efficacy,  as  if  society  had  no  spontaneous  tenden- 
cies, but  would  obey  any  external  impulse,  if  impressed 
upon  .it  with  sufficient  force  and  continuity. 

Every  eminent  social  speculatoiihad  his  ideal  state,  which 
approximated  to  or  diverged  from  the  actual  or  possible, 
according  to  the  degree  in  which  a  sense  of  reality  and  a 
positive  habit  of  thinking  characterized  the  author, 

Tlio  most  celebrated  of  tlicao  ideal  systems  is  that  of  Plato.  In 
it  the  Greek  idea  of  the  subordination  of  the  individual  to  the 
Klatc  appears  in  its  most  extreme  form.  In  that  i  lass  of  tlio  citizens 
«)f  Ids  republic  wlio  represent  the  highest  typo  of  life,  community 
of  property  mid  of  wives  is  established,  as  tlie  mo-^t  clfcctive  means 
of  sujipiessiiif;  tlio  seiiso  of  private  interest,  and  consecrating  tho 
individual  entirely  to  tlio  jiublic  ecrvice.  It  cannot  perhaps  be 
truly  said  tliat  Ids  scheme  was  incapable  of  realization  in  an  ancient 
coinuiunity  fuvouraldy  situated  for  tho  purpose.  But  it  would 
600U  be  broken  to  pieces  by  the  forces  whicli  .would  be  developed 
in  an  industrial  society      It  has   hunm.!,  been  the  fruitful  parent 


of  modern  Utopias,  specially  attr^ictivo  as  it  is  to  minds  in  which 
the  literary  instinct  is  stronger  than  the  scientific  judgment,  iii 
consequence  of  the  freshness  and  brilliancy  of  Plato's  exposition 
and  tlie  unrivalled  charm  of  his  style.  Mined- with  what  we  should 
call  the  chimerical  ideas  in  his  work,  there  are  many  striking  and 
elevated  moral  conceptions,  and,  what  is  more  to  our  present 
purpose,  some  just  economic  analyses.  In  'particular,  he  gives  a 
correct  account  of  the  division  and  combination  of  employments, 
as  they  naturally  arise  in  society.  The  foundation  of  the  social 
organization  he  traces,  perhaps,  too  exclusively  to  economic 
grounds,  not  giving  sufficient  weight  to  the  disinterested  social 
impulses  in  men  which  tend  to  draw  and  bind  them  together. 
But  he  explains  clearly  how  the  did'erent  wants  and  capacities  of 
individuals  demand  and  give  rise  to  mutual  services,  and  bow,  by 
the  restriction  of  each  to  the  sort  of  occupation  to  which,  by  his 
position,  abilities,  and  training,  he  is  best  adapted;  everything 
needful  for  tho  whole  is  more  easily  and  better  iirodticcd  or 
clTccted. .  In  the  spirit  of  all  the  ancient  legislators  ne  desires  ec 
self-sufficing  state,  protected  from  unnecessary  contacts  with 
foreign  populations,  which  might  tend  to  break  down  its  internal 
organization  or  to  deteriorate  tho  national  character.  Hence  ho 
discountenances  foreign  trade,  and  with  this  view  removes  his 
ideal  city  to  some  distance  from  the  sea.  The  limits  of  its  territory 
are  rigidly  fixed,  and  the  population  is  restricted  by  the  prohibi- 
tion of  early  marriages,  by  the  exposure  of  infants,  and  by  the 
maintenance  of  a  determinate  number  of  individual  lots  of  land  iii 
the  hands  of  the  citizens  who  cultivate  the  soil.  These  precautions 
are  inspired  more  by  political  and  moral  motives  than  by  the 
Malthusian  fear  of  failure  of  subsistence.  Plato  aims,  as  far  as 
possible,  at  equality  of  property  amongst  the  families  of  the  com- 
munity wliicii  are  engaged  in  the  immediate  prosecution  of 
industry.  This  last  class,  as  distinguished  from  the  governing  and 
military  classes,  he  holds,  according  to  the  spirit  of  his  age,  in  but 
little  esteem  ;  be  regards  their  habitual  occupations  as  tending  to 
the  degradation  of  the  mind  and  the  enfeeblement  of  the  body, 
and  rendering  those  who  follow  them  unfit  for  the  higher  duties  of 
men  and  citizens.  Tho  lowest  forms  of  labour  he  would  commit 
to  foreigners  and  slaves.  Again  in  tho  spirit  of  ancient  theory,  ha 
wishes  (Lcgg.,  v.  12)  to  banish  the  precious  metals,  as  far  as  practi- 
cable, from  use  in  internal  commerce,  and  forbids  the  lending  of 
money  on  interest,  leaving  indeed  to  the  free  will  of  the  debtor 
even  the  repayment  of  the  capital  of  the  loan.  All  economia 
dealings  he  subjects  to  active  contrA  on  the  part  of  the  Govern- 
ment, not  merely  to  prevent  violence,  and  fraud,  but  to  check  the 
growth  of  luxurious  habits,  and  secure  to  the  population  of  Iha 
state  a  due  supply  of  the  necessaries  and  comforts  of  life. 

Contrasted  with  the  exaggerated  idealism  ,of  Plato  is  the  some- 
what limited  but  eminently  practical  genius  of  Xenopbon.  lu 
him  tho  man  of  action  predominates,  but  he  has  also  a  large  element 
of  the  speculative  tendency  and  talent  of  the  Greek.  His  treatise 
entitled  CEconomicus  is  Well  worth  reading  for  the  interesting  and 
animated  picture  it  presents  of  some  aspects  of  contemporary  life, 
and  is  justly  praised  by  Sismondi  for  the  spirit  of  mild  pliilau- 
thropy  and  tender  piety  which  breathes  through  it.  But  it 
scarcely  passes  beyond  the  bounds  of  domestic  economy,  though 
within  that  limit  Hs  author  exhibits  much  sound  sense  and 
sagacity.  Ills  precepts  for  the  judicious  conduot  of  private  pro- 
perty do  not  concern  ns  here,  nor  his  wise  suggestions  for  tho 
government  of  the  family  and  its  dependants.  Vet  it  is  in  this 
narrowe.-  sphere  and  in  general  in  tho  concrete  domain  that  his 
chief  excellence  lies  ;  to  economics  in  tJieir  w  idcr  aspects  he  does 
not  contribute  much.  He  shares  tho  ordinary  preference  of  his 
fellow  countrymen  for  agriculture  over  other  employments,  and  is, 
indeed,  enthusiastic  in  his  praises  of  it  as  developing  patriotic  and 
rcligiou* feeling  and  a  respect  for  property,  as  the  best  preparation 
for  military  life,  and  as  leaving  sufficient  time  and  thought  dis- 
posable to  admit  of  considerable  intellectual  and  political  activity. 
Vet  his  praeticnl  sense  leads  him  to  attribute  greater  importanco 
than  most  other  Greek  writers  to  manufactures,  and  still  more  to 
trade,  to  enter  more  largely  on  questions  relating  to  their  con- 
ditions and  development,  and  to  bespeak  for  them  the  countenance 
and  protection  of  the  state.  Though  his  views  on  the  nature  of 
money  are  vagiio  and  in  some  respects  erroneous,  ho  sees  th«t  its 
export  in  exchange  for  commodities  will  not  im^wvorish  the  com- 
munity. IIo  also  insists  on  the  necessity,  with  a  view  to  a 
flourishing  commerce  with  other  countries,  of  peace,  of  a  courteous 
and  respectful  treatment  of  foreign  traders,  and  of  a  prompt  and 
equitable  decision  of  their  legal  suits.  The  in.stitution  of  slavery 
hoof  course  recognizes  and  does  not  disapprove;  he  oven  recom- 
mends, for  tho  increase  of  the  Attio  rcvouues,  the  hiring  out  of 
slaves  by  the  state  for  labour  in  the  mines,  after  branding  them 
to  prevent  their  escape,  the  number  of  slaves  being  constantly 
increased  by  fresh  purchases  out  of  the  gains  of  tho  enterprise. 
..•  Almost  "tho  whole  system  of  Greek  ideas'  up  to  tho  time  c"" 
Aristotle  is  represented  in  his  encyclopedic  construction.  Mathe 
matical  and  astronomical  science  was  largely  developed  at  a  later 
stage,  but  iu  the  Geld  of  social  studies  no  higher  point  waa  ev«r 


350 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


attaincil  by  tlio  Creoles  than  is  readied  in  tlie  writings  of  this  great 
thinker.  Both  liis  gifts  and  his  situation  eminently  favoured  Iiim 
in  the  treatment  of  these  subjecrs.  He  combined  in  rare  measure 
s  capacity  for  keen  observation  with  generalizing  power,  and 
sobriety  of  judgment  with  ardour  for  the  public  good.  All  that 
was  original  or  significant  in  the  political  life  of  Hellas  had  run 
its  course  before  his  time  or  uuder  his  own  eyes,  and  he  had  thus 
a  lai'ge  b.nsis  of  varied  experience  on  which  to  ground  his  conclu- 
sions. Standing  outside  the  actual  movement  of  contemporary 
public  life,  he  occnpied  the  position  of  thoughtful  spectator  and 
impartial  judge.  He  could  not  indeed,  for  reasons  already  stated,  ■ 
any  more  than  other  Greek  speculators,  attain  a  fully  normal 
attitude  in  these  researches.  Nor  could  he  pass  beyond  the  sphere 
of  what  is  now  called  statical  sociology  ;  the  idea  of  laws  of  the 
historical  development  of  social  plienomena  he  scarcely  apprehended, 
except  in  some  small  degree  in  relation  to  the  succession  of  political 
fomis.  But  there  is  to  be  found  in  his  writings  a  remarkable  body 
of  sound  and  valuable  thoughts  on  the  constitution  and  working 
of  the  social  organism.  The  special  notices  of  economic  subjects 
are  neither  so  numerous  nor  so  detaUed  as  we  should  desire.  Like 
all  the  Greek  thinkers,  he  recognizes  but  one  doctrine  of  the  state, 
under  which  ethics,  politics  proper,  and  economics  take  their  place 
as  departments,  bearing  to  each  other  a  very  close  relation,  and 
having  indeed  their  lines  of  demarcation  from  each  other'not  very 
distinctly  marked.  When  wealth  comes  under  consideration,  it  is 
studied  not  as  an  end  in  itself,  but  with  a  view  to  the  higher 
elements  and  ultimate  aims  of  the  collective  life. 

The  origin  of  society  he  traces,  not  to  economic  necessities,  but 
to  natural  social  immlses  in  the  human  constitution.  The  nature 
of  the  social  union*  when  thus  established,  being  determined  by 
tho  partly  spontaneous  partly  systematic  combination  of  diverse 
activities,  he  respects  the  independence  of  the  latter  whilst  seeking 
to  effect  their  convergence.  He  therefore  opposes  himself  to  the 
suppression  of  personal  freedom  and  initiative,  and  the  excessive  sub- 
ordination of  the  individual  to  the  state,  and  rejects  the  community 
of  property  and  OTves  proposed  by  Plato  for  his  governing  class. 
The  principle  of  private  property  he  regards  as  deeply  rooted  in 
man,  and  the  evils  which  are  alleged  to  result  from  the  correspond- 
ing social  ordinance  he  tliinks  ought  reallj-  to  be  atb'ibuted  either 
to  the  imjierfections  of  our  nature  or  to  the  vices'  of  other  public  insti- 
tutions. Community  of  goods  must,  in  his  view,  tend  to  neglect  of 
the  common  interest  and  to  the  disturbance  of  social  harmony. 

Of  the  several  classes  which  provide  for  the  different  wants  of 
the  society,  those  who  are  occupied  directly  with  its  material  needs 
' — tho  immediate  cultivators  <>f  the  soil,  the  mechanics  and  artificers 
' — are  excluded  from  any  share  in  the  government  of  the  state,  as 
being  without  the  necessary  leisure  and  cultivation,  and  apt  to  be 
debased  by  the  nature  of  their  occupations.  In  a  celebrated  passage 
he  propounds  a  theory  of  slavery,  in  which  it  is  based  on  the  uni- 
versality of  tho  relation  between  command  and  obedience,  and  on 
the  natural  division  by  which  the  ruling  is  marked  off  from  th( 
subject  race.  He  regards  the  slave  as  having  no  independent  will, 
bat  as  an  "animated  tool"  in  the  hands  of  his  master  ;  and  in  his 
Bubjection  to  such  control,  if  only  it  be  intelligent,  Aristotle  holds 
that  the  true  wellbeing  of  the  inferior  as  well  as  of  the  superior  is 
to  be  found.  This  view,  so  shocking  to  our  giodern  sentiment,  is 
of  course  not  personal  to  Aristotle  ;  it  is  simply  the  theoretic  pre- 
sentation of  the  facts  of  Greek  life,  in  which  the  maintenance  of  a 
body  of  citizens  pursuing  the  higher  culture  and  devoted  to  thei 
taaks  of  war  and  government  was  founded  on  the  sj'stematio  degra- 
dation of  a  wronged  and  despised  class,  excluded  from  all  the  higher 
offices  of  human  beings  and  sacrificed  to  tho  maintenance  of  a 
special  type  of  society. 

The  methods  of  economic  acquisition  are  divided  by  Aristotle 
into  two,  o-ie  of  which  has  for  its  aim  the  appropriation  of  natural 
products  and  their  application  to  the  material  uses  cf  the  household ; 
under  this  head  come  hunting,  fishing,  cattle-rearing,  and  agricul- 
ture. With  this  '"natural  economy,"  as  it  may  be  called,  is,  in 
some  sense,  contrasted  the  other  method  to  which  Aristotle  gives 
the  name  of  "chrematistic,"  in  which  an  active  exchange  of  pro- 
ducts goes  on,  and  money  comes  into  operation  as  its  medium  and 
regulator.  A  certain  measm-o  of  this  "  money  economy,"  as  it  may 
be  termed  in  opposition  to  the  preceding  and  simpler  form  of 
industrial  life,  is  accepted  by  Aristotle  as  a  necessary  extension  of 
the  latter,  arising  out  of  increased  activity  of  intercourse,  and 
satisfying  real  wants.  But  its  development  on  the  grc?-t  scale, 
founded  on  the  thirst  for  enjoyment  and  the  unlimited  desire  of 
gain,  he  condemns  as  unworthy  and  corrupting.  Though  his  views 
on  this  subject  appear  to  be  principally  based  on  moral  grounds, 
there  are  some  indicatioiis  of  his  having  entertained  the  erroneous 
opinion  held  by  the  physiocrats  of  the  ISth  centurj',  that-agricul- 
ture  alone  (with  the  other  branches  of  natural  economy)  is  truly 
productive,  whilst  the  other  kinds  of  industry,  which  either  modify 
tho  products  of  nature  or  distribute  them  by  way  of  exchange, 
however  convenient  and  useful  they  may  be,  make  no  addition  to  the 
^'ealth  oi  the  community. 

He  rightly  regards  money  as  altc\gether  different  from  wealth. 


illustrating  tho  difference  by  the  story  of  Jlidas.  An<l  he  seems 
to  have  seen  that  money,  though  its  use  rests  on  a  social  conven- 
tion, must  be  composed  of  a  material  possessing  an  independent 
value  of  it§  own.  That  his  views  on  capital  were  in<listinct  appeara 
from  his  famous  arg\iment  against  interest  on  loans,  which  is  based 
on  the  idea  that  money  is  barren  and  cannot  produce  money. 

Like  the  other  Greek  social  philosophers,  Aristotlo  recommends 
to  the  care  of  Governments  the  preservation  of  a  due  proportion 
between  the  extent  of  the  civic  territory  and  its  population,  and 
relies  on  pre-nuptial  continence,  late  marriages,  and  the  preven- 
tion or  destruction  of  births  for  tho  due  limitation  of  the  uuniber 
of  citizens,  the  insufficiency  of  the  latter  being  dangerous  to  the 
independence  and  its  superabundance  to  the  tranquillity  and  good 
(jrder  of  the  state. 

The  Romans. — Notwithstanding  the  eiriinently  practical,- 
realistic,  and  utilitarian  character  of  the  Romans,  there  wasf 
no  energetic  exercise  of  their  powers  in  the  economic  field; 
they  developed  no  large  and  many-sided  system  of  pro- 
duction and  exchange.  Their  historic  mission  was  military 
and  political,  and  the '  national  energies  were  mainly 
devoted  to  the  public  service  at  home  and  in  the  field. 
To  agriculture,  indeed,  much  attention  was  given  from  the 
earliest  times,  and  on  it  was  founded  the  existence  of  the 
hardy  population  which  won  the  first  steps  in  the  march 
to  universal  dominion.  But  in  the  course  of  their  history 
the  cultivation  of  the  soil  by  a  native  yeomanry  gave  place 
to  the  introduction  on  a  great  scale  of  slave  labourers, 
acquired  by  their  foreign  conquests ;  and  for  the  small 
properties  of  the,  earlier  period  were  substituted  the  vast 
estates — the  latifundia — which,  in  the  judgment  of  Pliny, 
were  the  ruin  of  Italy.  The  industrial  arts  and  commerce 
(the  latter,  at  least  when  not  conducted  on  a  great  scale) 
they  regarded  as  ignoble  pursuits,  unworthy  of  free  citi- 
zens ;  and  this  feeling  of  contempt  was  not  merely  a  pre- 
judice of  narrow  or  uninstructed  minds,  but  was  shared  by 
Cicero  {De  Off.  i.  42)  and  others  among  the  most  liberal 
spirits  of  the  nation.  As  might  be  expected  from  the 
want  of  speculative  originality  among  the  Romans,  there 
is  little  evidence  of  serious  theoretic  inquiry  on  economic 
subjects.  Their  ideas  on  these  as  on  other  social  questions 
were  for  the  most  part  borrowed  from  the  Greek  tMnkers. 
Such  traces  of  economic  thought  as  do  occur  are  to  be 
found  in  (1)  the  philosophers,  (2)  the  writers  de  re  rustica, 
and  (3)  the  jurists.  It  must,  however,  be  admitted  that 
many  of  the  passages  in  these  authors  referred  to  by 
those  who  assert  the  claim  of  the  Romans  to  a  more  pro- 
minent place  in  the  history  of  the  science  often  contaid 
only  obvious  truths  or  vague  generalities. 

In  tlie  philosophers,  whom  Cicero,  Seneca,  and  the  elder  Pliny 
sufficiently  represent  (the  last  indeed  being  rather  a  learned' 
encyclopaedist  or  polyhistor  than  a  philosopher),  we  find  a  general 
consciousness  of  the  decay  of  industry,  the  relaxation  of  morals, 
and  the  growing  spirit  of  self-indulgence  amonpst  their  contempo- 
raries, who  are  represented  as  deeply  tainted  with  the  imported 
vices  of  the  conquered  nations.  This  sentiment,  both  in  these 
writers  and  in  the  poetry  and  miscellaneous  literature  of  their 
rimes,  is  accompanied  by  a  half-factirious  enthusiasm  for  agricul- 
ture and  an  exaggerated  estimate  of  country  life  and  of  early  Koman 
habits,  which  are  principally,  no  doubt,  to  be  regarded  as  a  form  of 
protest  against  the  evils  of  the  present,  and,  from  this  point  of  view, 
remind  us  of  the  declamations  of  Rousseau  in  a  not  dissimilar 
age.  But  there  is  little  of  large  or  just  thinking  on  the  economic 
evils  of'the  time  and  their  proper  remedies.  Pliny,  still  further  in 
the  spirit  of  Rousseau,  is  of  opinion  that  the  introduction  of  gold 
as  a  medium  of  exchange  was  a  thing  to  be  deplored,  and  that  the 
age  of  barter  was  preferable  to  that  of  money.  He  expresses  views 
on  the  necessity  of  preventing  the  efflux  of  money  similar  to 
those  of  the  modern  mercantile  school — views  which  Cicero  also,' 
though  not  so  clearly,  appears  to  have  entertained.  Cato,  Varro, 
and  Columella  concern  themselves  more  with  the  technical  precepts 
of  husbandry  than  with  the  general  conditions  of  industrial  suc- 
cess and  social  wellbeing.  But  the  two  last  named  have  the  greet 
merit  of  having  seen  and  proclaimed  the  superior  value  of  free  to 
slave  labour,  and  Columella  is  convinced  that  to  the  use  of  the 
latter  the  decline  of  the  agricultural  economy  of  the  Romans  was 
in  a  great  measure  to  be  attributed.  These  three  writers  agree  in 
the  belief  that  it  was  chiefly  by  the  revival  and  reform  of  agricul- 
ture that  the  threatening  inroads  of  moral  corruption/  ouldJial 


POLITICAL     ECONO]\ll 


351 


suycd,  the  old  Roman  virtues  fostered,  and  the  foundations  of  tlie 
couniionweallli  streogtliened.     Their  attitudo  is  tlius  similar  to  that 
of  the  Frcjich  physiocrats  invoking  the  imiirovement  and  zealous 
pursuit  of  agriculture  alike  against  tljo  material  evils  and  the  social 
degeneracy  of  their  time.     The  question  of  the  comparative  merits 
of  the  large  and  small  systems  of  cultivation  appears  to  have  been 
much  discussed  in  the  old  Roman,  as   in  the  modern    European 
world;  Columella  is  a  decided  advocate  of  the  pclile  culture. ,    The 
jurists  were  led  by  the  coincidence  which  sometimes  takes  place 
between  their  point  of  view  and  that  of  economic  science  to  make 
certain  classifications  and  establish  some  more  of  less  refined  dis- 
tinctions which  the  modern  economists  have  eitlier  adopted  from 
them  or  used  independently.     Tliey  appear  also  (though  this  has 
been  disputed,  Neri  and  Carli  maintaining  the  affirmative,  Pagnini 
the  negative)  to  have  had  correct  notions  of  the  nature  of  money 
as  having  necessarily  a  value  of  its  own,  determined  by  economic 
conditions,  and  therefore  incapable  of  beinj^  impressed  upon  it  by 
convention   or  arbitrarily  altered   by  public   authority.     But    in 
general  we  find  in  these  writers,  as  might  be  expected,  not  so  much 
the  results  of  independent  thought  as  documents  illustrating  the 
facts  of  Roman  economic  life,  and  the  historical  policy  of  the  nation 
with  respect  to  economic  sulyects.     From  tlie  latter  point  of  view 
they  are  of  much  interest ;  and  by  the  information  they  supply  as 
to  t'lie  course  of  legislation  relating  to  property  generally,  to  sump- 
tuary  control,    to   the    restrictions   imposed   on   spendthrifts,    to 
slavery,   to  the  encouragement  of  population,  and  the  like,  they 
};ive  us  much  clearer  insight  than  we  should  otherwise  possess  into 
influences  long  potent  in  the  history  of  Rome  and  of  the   Western 
world  at  large.     But,  as  it  is  with  the  more  limited  field  of  system- 
atic thought  on  political  economy  that  we  are  here  occupied,  we  can- 
not enter  into  these  subjects.     One  matter,  however,  ought  to  lie 
adverted  to,  becau.se  it  was  not  only  rei)eatedly  dealt  with  by  legisla- 
tion, but  is  treated  more  or  less  fully  by  all  Roman  writers  of  note, 
namely,  the  interest  on  money  loans.     Tlie  rate  was  fi.ted  by  the 
laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables  ;obut  lending  on  interest  was  afterwards 
(B  c.  341)  entirely  prohibited  by  the  Genucian  Law.     In  the  legis- 
lation of  Justinian,  i-atea  were  sanctioned  varying  from    four  to 
ciglit  per  cent,  according  to  tlie  nature  of  the  case,  the  latter  being 
fixed  as  the  ordinary  mercantile  rate,  whilst  compound  interest  was 
forbidden.     The   Roman  tiieorists  almost  without   exception  dis- 
approve of  lending  on  interest   altogether.     Cato,  as  Cicero  tells 
us,  thought  it  as  bad  as  murder  ("Quid  fenerari?  Quid  hominem 
occiderel"  De  Off.  ii.  15);  and  Cicero,  Seneca,  Pliny,  Columella  all 
join  in  condemning  it.     It  is  not  dirticult  to  see  how  in  early  states 
of  society  the  trade  of  moncy-lendin"  becomes,  and  not  unjustly, 
the  object  of  popular  odium ;    but  that  these  writers,  at  a  period 
when  commercial  enterprise  had  made  such  considerable  progress, 
should  continue  to  reprobate  it  argues  very  imperfect  or  confused 
ideas  on  the  nature  and  functions  of  capital.     It  is  probable  that 
practice  took   little   heed  either  of  these  speculative  ideas   or  of 
legislation  on  the  subject,  which  experience  shows  can  always  be 
easily  evaded.     The   traffic  in  money  seems  to  have  gone  on  all 
through  Roman  history,  and  the  rate  to  have  fluctuated  according 
to  the  condition  of  the  market. 

Looking  back  on  the  history  of  ancient  economic  specu- 
lation, we  see  that,  as  might  be  anticipated  a  priori,  the 
results  attained  in  that  field  by  the  Greek  and  Roman 
writers  wore  very  scanty.  As  Duhring  has  well  remarked, 
the  question.s  with  which  the  science  has  to  do  were 
regarded  by  the  ancient  thinkers  rather  from  their  political 
than  their  properly  economic  side.  This  we  have  already 
pointed  out  with  respect  to  their  treatment  of  the  subject 
of  population,  and  the  same  may  be  seen  in  the  case  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  division  of  labour,  with  which  Plato  and 
Aristotle  are  in  some  degree  occupied.  They  regard  that 
principle  as  a  basis  of  social  classification,  or  use  it  in 
showing  that  society  is  founded  on  a  spontaneous  co-opera- 
tion of  diverse  activities.  From  the  strictly  economic 
point  of  view,  there  are  three  important  propositions 
which  can  bo  enunciated  respecting  that  division: — (1) 
that  its  extension  within  any  branch  of  production  makes 
'  the  products  cheaper  ;  (2)  that  it  is  limited  by  the  extent 
of  the  market ;  and  (3)  that  it  can  bo  carried  farther  in 
manufactures  than  in  agriculture.  But  we  shall  look  in 
vaiu  for  these  propositions  in  the  ancient  writers ;  the 
first -alone  might  bo  in/erred  from  their  discussions  of  the 
subject.  It  has  been  the  tendency  especially  of  German 
scholars  to  magnify  undulj'  the  e.\tcnt  and  value  of  the 
contributions  of  antiquity  to  economic  knowledge.  The 
Greek  and  Ilomau  authors  ought  certainly  not  to  bo  omitted 


in  any  account  of  the  evolution  of  this  branch  of  study. 
But  it  must  be  kept  steadily  in  view  that  we  find 'in  them 
only  first  hints  or  rudiments  of  general  economic  truths, 
and  that  the  science  is  essentially  a  modern  one.  We  shall 
indeed  see  hereafter  that  it  could  not  have  attained  its 
definitive  constitution  before  our  own  time. 

Middle  Ages. 
The  Middle  Ages  (400-1300  a.d.)  form  a  period  of 
great  significance  in  the  economic,  as  in  the  general,  his- 
tory of   Europe.     They  represent   a   vast   transition,   in 
which  the  germs  of  a  new  world  were  deposited,  but  iu 
which  little  was  fully  elaborated.     There  is  scarcely  any- 
thing in  the  later  movement  of  European  society  which 
we  do  not  find  there,  though  as  yet,  for  the  most  part, 
crude  and  undeveloped.     The  mediaeval  period  was  the 
object  of  contemptuous  depreciation  on  the  part  of  the 
liberal  schools  of  the  last  century,  principally  because  it 
contributed  so  little  to  literature.     But  there  are  things 
more   important   to   mankind   than   literature ;   and   the 
great  men  of  the  Middle  Ages  had  enough  to  do  in  other 
fields  to  occupy  their  utjnost  energies.     The  development 
of  the  Catholic  institutions  and  the  gradual  establishment 
and  maintenance  of  a  settled  order  after  the  dissolution  of 
the  Western  empire  absorbed  the  powers  of  the  thinkers 
and  practical  men  of  several  centuries.     The  first  mediseval 
phase,  from  the  commencement  of  the  5th  century  to  the 
end  of  the  7th,  was  occupied  with  the  painful  and  stormy 
struggle  towards  the  foundation  of  the  new  ecclesiastical 
and  civil  system  ;  three  more  centuries  were  filled  with 
the  work   of  its   consolidation   and   defence  against   the 
assaults  of  nomad  populations ;  only  in  the  final  phase, 
during  the  11th,  12th,  and  13th  centuries,  when  the  unity 
of  the  West  was  founded  by  the  collective  action  against 
impending  Moslem  invasion,   did   it   enjoy  a  sufficiently 
secure  and  stable  existence  to  exhibit  its  essential  character, 
and  produce  its  noblest  personal  types.     The  elaboration 
of  feudalism  was,  indeed,  in  progress  during  the  whole 
period,  showing  itself  in  the  decomposition  of  power  and 
the  hierarchical  subordination  of  its  several  grades,   the 
movement  being  only  temporarily  suspended  during  the 
second   phase   by  the   necessary  defensive   concentration 
under  Charlemagne.     But  not  before  the  first  century  of 
the  last  phase  was  the  feudal  system   fully  constituted. 
In  like  manner,  only  in  the  final  phase  could  the  effort 
of  Catholicism  after  a  universal  discipline  be  carried  out 
on  the  great  scale— an  effort  for  ever  admirable,  though 
necessarily  on  the  whole  unsuccessful. 

No  large  or  varied  economic  activity  was  possible  under 
the  ascendency  of  feudalism.  That  organization,  as  has 
been  abundantly  shown  by  philosophical  historians,  was 
indispensable  for  the  preservation  of  order  and  for  public 
defence,  and  contributed  important  elements  to  general 
civilization.  But,  whilst  recognizing  it  as  opportune  and 
relatively  beneficent,  wo  must  not  expect  from  it  advan- 
tages inconsistent  with  its  essential  nature  and  historical 
office.  The  class  which  predominated  in  it  was  not 
sympathetic  with  industiy,  and  held  the  handicrafts  in 
contempt,  except  those  subservient  to  war  or  rural  sports. 
The  whole  practical  life  of  the  society  was  founded  on 
territorial  property ;  the  wealth  of  the  lord  consisted  in 
the  produce  of  his  lands  and  the  dues  paid  to  him  in 
kind  ;  this  wealth  was  spent  in  supporting  a  body  of 
retainers  whose  services  were  repaid  by  their  maintenance 
There  could  be  little  room  for  manufactures,  and  less  for 
commerce;  and  agriculture  was  carried  on  with  a  view  to 
the  wants  of  the  family,  or  at  most  of  the  immediate 
neighbourhood,  not  .to  those  of  a>  wider  market.  The 
economy  of  the  period  was  therefore  simple,  and,  in  the 
absence  of  .special  motors  from  without,  uniirogresaive. 


352 


POLITICAL      ECONOMY 


In  tlie  latter  portion  of  the  Middle  Ages  several  circum- 
stances came  into  action  which  greatly  modified  these  con- 
ditions. •  The  crusades  undoubtedly  produced  a  powerful 
economic  effect  by  transferring  in  many  cases  the  posses- 
sions of  the  feudal  chiefs  to  the  industrious  classes,  whilst 
by  bringing  different  nations  and  races  into  contact,  by 
enlarging  the  horizon  and  widening  the  conceptions  of  the 
populations,  as  well  as  by  affording  a  special  stimulus  to 
navigation,  they  tended  to  give  a  new  activity  to  inj-erna- 
tional  trade.  The  independence  of  the  towns  and  the 
rising  importance  of  the  burgher  class  supplied  a  counter- 
poise to  the  power  of  the  land  aristocracy ;  and  the 
strength  of  these  new  social  elements  was  increased  by  the 
corporate  constitution  given  to  the  urban  industries,  the 
))olice  of  the  towns  being  also  founded  on  the  trade  guilds, 
as  that  of  the  country  districts  was  on  the  feudal  relations. 
The  increasing  demand  of  the  towns  for  the  products  of 
agriculture  gave  to  the  prosecution  of  that  art  a  more 
extended  and  speculative  character  ;  and  this  again  led  to 
improved  methods  of  transport  and  communication.  But 
the  range  of  commercial  enterprise  continued  everywhere 
narrow,  except  in  some  favoured  centres,  such  as  the 
Italian  republics,  in  which,  however,  the  growth  of  the 
normal  habits  of  industrial  life  was  impeded  or  perverted 
by  military  ambition,  which  was  not,  in  the  case  of  those 
communities,  checked  as  it  was  elsewhere  by  the  pressure 
of  an  aristocratic  class. 

Every  great  change  of  opinion  on  the  destinies  of  man 
and  the  guiding  princfples  of  conduct  must  react  on  the 
sphere  of  material  interests  ;  and  the  Catholic  religion  had 
a  powerful  influence  on  the  economic  life  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  Christianity  inculcates,  perhaps,  no  more  effectively 
than  the  older  religions  the  special  economic  virtues  of 
industry,  thrift,  fidelity  to  engagements,  obedience  to  law- 
ful authority ;  but  it  brought  out  niore  forcibly  and 
presented  more  persistently  the  higher  aims  of  life,  and  so 
produced  a  more,  elevated  way  of  viewing  the  different 
social  relations.  It  purified  domestic  life,  a  reform  which 
ha^  the  most  important  economic  results.  It  taught  the 
3octrine  of  fundamental  human  equality,  heightened  the 
dignity  of  labour,  and  preached  with  quite  a  new  emphasis 
tlie  obligations  of  love,  compassion,  and  forgiveness,  and 
the  claims  of  the  poor.  The  constant  presentation  to  the 
general  mind  and  conscience  of  these  ideas,  the  dogmatic 
bases  of  which  were  scarcely  as  j'et  assailed  by  scepticism, 
must  have  had  a  powerful  effect  in  morali;;ing  life.  But 
to  the  influence  of  Christianity  as  a  moral  doctrine  was 
added  that  of  the  church  as  an  organization,  charged  with 
the  application  of  that  doctrine  to  men's  daily  transactions. 
Besides  the  teachings  of  the  sacred  books,  there  was  a  mass 
of  ecclesiastical  legislation  providing  specific  prescriptions 
for  the  conduct  of  theifaithful.  And  this  legislation  dealt 
with  the  economic  as  with  other  provinces  of  social 
activity.  In  the  Corpus  Juris  Canonici,  which  condenses 
the  result  of  centuries  of  study  and  effort,  along  with  much 
else  is  set  ouc  what  we  may  call  the  Catholic  economic 
theory,  if  we  understand  by  theory,  not  a  reasoned 
explanation  of  phenomena,  but  a  body  of  ideas  leading  to 
prescriptions  for  the  guidance  of  conduct.  Life  is  here 
looked  at  from  the  point  of  view  of  spiritual  interests ;  the 
aim  is  to  establish  and  maintain  amongst  men  a  true 
kingdom  of  God. 

The  canonists  are  friendly  to  the  notion  of  a  community 
of  goods  from  the  side  of  sentiment  ("Dulcissima  rerum 
possessio  communis  est "),  though  they  regard  the  distinc- 
tion of  meum  and  tuum  as  an  institution  necessitated  by 
the  fallen  state  of  man.  In  cases  of  need  the  public 
authority  is  justified  in  re-establishing  pro  hac  vice  the 
primitive  community.  The  care  of  the  poor  is  not  a 
matter  of   free  choice;   the  relief  of  their  necessities  is 


debiiiim  legale.  Avaritia  is  idolatry;  cvpidiias,  even  when 
it  does  not  grasp  at  what  is  another's,  is  the  root  of  all 
evil,  and  ought  to  be  not  merely  regulated  but  eradicated. 
Agriculture  and  handiwork  are  viewed  as  legitimate  modes 
of  earning  food  and  clothing;  but  trade  is  regarded  with 
disfavour,  because  it  was  held  almost  certainly  to  lead  to 
fraud  :  of  agriculture  it  was  said,  "Deo  non  displicet";  but 
of  the  merchant,  "  Deo  placere  non  potest."  The  seller  was 
bound  to  fix  the  price  of  his  wares,  not  according  to  the 
market  rate,  as  determined  by  supply  and  demand,  but 
according  to  their  intrinsic  value  (Jtisivm  pretium).  He 
must  not  conceal  the  faults  of  his  merchandise,  nor  take 
advantage  of  the  need  or  ignorance  of  the  buyer  to  obtain 
from  him  more  than  the  fair  price.  Interest  on  money  is 
forbidden ;  the  prohibition  of  usury  is,  indeed,  as  Eoscher 
says,  the  centre  of  the  whole  canonistic  system  of  economy, 
as  well  as  the  foundation  of  a  great  part  of  the  ecclesias- 
tical jurisdiction.  The  question  whether  a  transaction 
was  or  was  not  usurious  turning  mainly  on  the  intentions 
of  the  parties;  the  innoiience  or  blameworthiness  of  deal- 
ings in  which  money  was  lent  became  rightfully  a  subject 
of  determination  for  the  church,  either  by  her  casuists  or 
in  her  courts. 

The  foregoing  principles  point  towards  a  noble  ideal, 
but  by  their  ascetic  exaggeration  the}-  worked  in  some 
directions  as  an  impediment  to  industrial  progress.  Thus, 
whilst,  with  the  increase  of  production,  a  greater  division 
of  labour  and  a  larger  employment  of  borrowed  capital 
naturally  followed,  the  laws  on  usury  tended  to  hinder  this 
expansion.  Hence  they  were  undermined  by  various 
exceptions,  or  evaded  by  fictitious  transactions.  These 
laws  were  in  fact  dictated  by,  and  adapted  to,  early  condi- 
tions— to  a  state  of  society  in  which  money  loans  were 
commonly  sought  either  with  a  view  to  wasteful  pleasures  or 
for  the  relief  of  such  urgent  distress  as  ought  rather  to  have 
been  the  object  of  Christian  beneficence.  But  they  were 
quite  unsuited  to  a  period  in  which  capital  was  borrowed 
for  ends  useful  to  the  public,  for  the  extension  of  enter- 
prise and  the  employment  of  labour.  The  absolute  theo- 
logical spirit  in  this,  as  in  other  instances,  could  not  admit 
the  modification  in  rules  of  conduct  demanded  by  a  hew 
social  situation  ;  and  vulgar  good  sense  better  understood 
what  were  the  fundamental  conditions  of  industrial  life. 

When  the  intellectual  activity  previously  repressed  by 
the  more  urgent  claims  of  social  preoccupations  tended  to 
revive  towards  the  close  of  the  mediffival  period,  the  want 
of  a  rational  appreciation  of  the  whole  of  human  affairs 
was  felt,  and  was  temporarily  met  by  the  adoption  of  the 
results  of  the  best  Greek  speculation.  Hence  we  find  in  the 
writings  of  St  Thomas  Aquinas  the  political  and  economic 
doctrines  of  Aristotle  reproduced  with  a  partial  infusion 
of  Christian  elements.  His  adherence  to  his  master's 
point  of  view  is  strikingly  shown  by  the  fact  that  he 
accepts  (at  least  if  he  is  the  author  of  the  Be  Reyimine 
Principum)  his  theory  of  slavery,  though  by  the  action  of 
the  forces  of  his  own  time  the  last  relics  of  that  institution 
were  being  eliminated  from  European  society. 

This  great  change — the  enfranchisement  of  the  working 
classes — was  the  most  important  practical  outcome  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  first  step  in  this  movement  was  the 
transformation  of  slavery,  properly  so  called,  into  serfdom. 
The  latter  is,  by  its  nature,  a  transitory  condition.  The 
serf  was  bound  to  the  soil,  had  fixed  domestic  relation.s, 
and  participated  in  the  religious  life  of  the  society ;  and 
tli9  tendency  of  all  his  circumstances,  as  well  as  of  the 
opinions  and  sentiments  of  the  time,  was  in  the  direction 
of  liberation.  This  issue  was,  indeed,  not  so  speedily 
reached  by  the  rural  as  by  the  urban  workman.  Already 
in  the  second  pjhase  serfdom  is  abolished  in  the  cities 
and  towns,  whilst  agricultural  serfdom  does  not  disaiijjtar 


4 


POLITICAL      E  C  0  N  O  ]\I   y 


355 


before  tlio  third.  The  latter  revolution  is  attributed  by 
Adini  Smith  to  the  operation  of  scllish  interests,  that  of 
the  jiroprietor  on  the  one  hand,  who  discovered  the  suiierior 
pioductiveness  of  cultivation  by  free  tenants,  and  that  of 
the  sovereign  on  the  other,  ulio,  jealous  of  the  great  lords, 
encouraged  the  encroachments  of  the  villeins  on  their 
authority.  But  that  the  church  deserves  a  share  of  the 
merit  s.eems  leyond  doubt — moral  impulses,  as  often 
happens,  conspiring  with  political  and  economic  motives. 
The  serfs  were  treated  best  on  the  ecclesiastical  estates, 
and  the  n^embers  of  the  priesthood,  both  by  their  doctrine 
and  by  their  sit.uation  since  the  Northern  conquests,  were 
constituted  patrons  and  guardians  of  the  oppressed  or 
subject  classes. 

Out  of  the  liberation  of  the  serfs  rose  the  first  linea- 
ments of  the  hierarchical  constitution  of  modern  industry 
in  the  separation  between .  the  entrepreneurs  and  the 
workers.  The  personal  enfranchisement  of  the  latter, 
stimulating  activity  and  developing  initiative,  led  to 
accumulations,  which  were  further  promoted  by  the  estab- 
lishment of  order  and  good  government  by  the  civic  cor- 
porations which  grew  out  of  the  enfranchisement.  Thus 
an  active  capitalist  class  came  into  existence.  It  appeared 
first  in  commerce,  the  inhabitants  of  the  trading  cities 
importing  expensive  luxuries  from  foreign  countries,  or 
the  improved  manufactures  of  richer  communities  for 
which  the  great  proprietors  gladly  exchanged  the  raw 
produce  of  their  lands.  In  performing  the  office  of 
carriers,  too,  between  different  countries,  these  cities  had 
an  increasing  field  for  commercial  enterprise.  At  a  later 
period,  as  Adam  Sniith  has  shown,  commerce  promoted 
the  growth  of  manufactures,  which  were  either  produced 
for  foreign  sale,  or  made  from  foreign  materials,  or  imitated 
from  the  work  of  foreign  artificers.  But  the  first  import- 
ant development  of  handicrafts  in  modern  Europe  belongs 
to  the  14th  and  15th  centuries,  and  the  rise  of  manufac- 
turing entreiJceneurs  is  not  conspicuous  within  the  Middje 
Ages  pro])erly  so  called.  Agriculture,  of  course,  lags 
behind  ;  though  the  feudal  lords  tend  to  transform  them- 
selves into  directors  of  agricultural  enterprise,  their  habits 
and  prejudices  retard  such  a  movement,  and  the  advance 
of  rural  industry  proceeds  slowly.  It  does,  however,  pro- 
ceed, partly  by  the  stimulation  arising  from  the  desire  to 
procure  the  finer  objects  of  manufacture  imported  froni 
abroad  or  produced  by  increased  skill  at  home,  partly  by 
the  expenditure  on  the  land  of  capital  amassed  in  the  pro- 
secution of  urban  industries. 

Some  of  the  trade  corporations  in  the  cities  appear  to 
have  been  of  great  antiquity;  but  it  was  in  the  13th 
century  that  they  rose  to  importance  by  being  legally 
recognized  and  regulated.  These  corporations  have  been 
much  too  absolutely  condemned  by  most  of  the  economists, 
who  i;isist  on  applying  to  the  Middle  Ages  the  ideas  of 
the  18th  and  19th  centuries.  They  were,  it  is  true, 
unfitted  for  modern  times,  and  It  was  necessary  that  they 
should  disapjjcar;  their  existence  indeed  was  (piite  unduly 
prolonged.  But  they  were  at  first  in  several  respects 
highly  beneficial.  They  were  a  valuable  rallying  point  for 
the  new  industrial  forces,  which  were  strengthened  by  the 
rise  of  the  exprit  de  corps  which  they  fostered.  They 
improved  technical  skill  by  the  precautions  which  were 
taken  for  the  solidity  and  finished  execution  of  the  wares 
produced  in  each  locality,  and  it  was  with  a  view  to  the 
advancement  of  the  industrial  arts  that  St  Louis  undertook 
the  better  organization  of  the  trades  of  Paris.  The  cor- 
porations also  encouraged  good  moral  habits  through  the 
sort  of  ppor.tancous  surveillance  which  they  exercised,  and 
they  tended  to  develop  the  social  sentiment  within  the 
limits  of  each  ]irofcssion,  in  times  when  a  larger  public 
Spirit  could  scarcely  yet  be  lookod  for, 


Modern  Times. 

The  close  of  the  Middle  Ages,  as  Comte  has  shown,  must 
be  placed  at  the  end,  not  of  the  15th,  but  of  the  l.'5th  cen- 
tury. The  modern  period,  which  then  began,  is  filled  by  a 
development  exhibiting  three  successive  phases,  and  is.suing 
in  the  state  of  things  which  characterizes  our  own  cixkIi. 
During  the  14th  and  15th  centuries  the  Catholico-feudal 
system  was  breaking  down  by  the  mutual  conflicts  of  its  own 
official  members,  whilst  the  constituent  elements  of  a  new 
order  were  rising  beneath  it.  On  the  practical  side  the  ant- 
agonists matched  against  each  other  were  the  crown  and  the 
feudal  chiefs ;  and  these  rival  powers  sought  to  strengthen 
themselves  by  forming  alliances  with  the  towns  and  the 
industrial  forces  they  represented.  The  movements  of  this 
phase  can  scarcely  be  said  to  find  an  echo  in  any  contem- 
porary economic  literature.  In  the  second  phase  of  th» 
modern  period,  which  opens  with  the  beginning  of  the  IGth 
century,  the  spontaneous  collapse  of  the  mediaeval  structure 
is  followed  by  a  series  of  systematic  assaults  which  still 
further  disorganize  it.  During  this  phase  the  central 
temporal  power,  which  has  made  a  great  advance  in  stabi- 
lity and  resources,  lays  hold  of  the  rising  elements  of 
manufactures  and  commerce,  and  seeks,  whilst  satisfying 
the  popular  enthusiasm  for  their  promotion,  to  use  them 
for  political  ends,  and  make  them  subserve  its  own  strength 
and  splendour  by  furnishing  the  treasure  necessary  for 
military  success.  With  this  practical  efltort  and  the  social 
tendencies  on  which  it  rests  the  mercantile  school  of  poli- 
tical economy,  which  then  obtains  a  spontaneous  ascend- 
ency, is  in  close  relation.  Whilst  partially  succeeding  in 
the  policy  we  have  indicated,  the  European  Governments 
yet  on  the  whole  necessarily  fail,  their  origin  and  nature 
disqualifying  them  for  the  task  o*'  guiding  the  industrial 
movement ;  and  the  discredit  of  the  spiritual  power,  witli 
which  most  of  them  are  confederate,  further  weakens  and 
undermines  them.  In  the  last  phase,  which  coincides 
approximately  with  the  18th  century,  the  tendency  to  a 
completely  new  systi^n,  both  temporal  and  spiritual, 
becomes  decisively  pronounced,  first  in  the  philosophy  and 
general  literature  of  the  period,  and  then  in  the  great 
French  explosion.  The  universal  critical  doctrine,  which 
had  been  announced  by  the  Protestantism  of  the  previous 
phase,  and  systematized  in  England  towards  the  close  of 
that  phase,  is  propagated  and  popularized,  especially  by 
French  writers.  The  spirit  of  individualism  inherent  in 
the  doctrine  was  eminently  adapted  to  the  wants  of  the 
time,  and  the  general  favour  with  which  the  dogmas''of  the 
social  contract  and  laissex  faire  were  received  indicated  a 
just  sentiment  of  the  conditions  proper  to  the  contempor- 
ary situation  of  European  societies.  So  long  as  a  new- 
coherent  system  of  thought  and  life  could  not  bo  intro-- 
duced,  what  was  to  bo  desired  was  a  largo  and  active 
development  of  personal  energy  under  no  further  control 
of  the  old  social  i)0wcr8  than  would  suffice  to  prevent 
anarchy.  Governments  were  therefore  rightly  called  on 
to  abandon  any  etioctivo  direction  of  the  social  novemcnt, 
and,  as  far  as  possible,  to  restrict  their  intervention  to  the 
maintenance  of  material  order.  This  policy  was,  from  its 
nature,  of  tcmjiorary  application  only  ;  but  tho  ncgativo 
school,  according  to  its  ordinary  spirit,  erected  what  was 
merely  a  transitory  and  exceptional  necessity  into  a  per- 
manent and  normal  law.  Tho  unanimous  European  niovo- 
ment  towards  the  liberation  of  elVort,  which  sometimes 
rose  to  tho  height  of  a  public  passion,  had  various  sidc.^, 
corres))onding  to  tho  dilTeront  aspccla  of  thought  and  life; 
and  of  tho  economic  side  the  French  physiocrata  were  tho 
first  theoretic  representatives  on  the  largo  scale,  though 
the  office  they  undertook  was,  both  in  its  destructive  and 
organic  provinces,  more  thoroughly  and  ellectively  done 

X!.\.  —  45 


354 


POLITICAL      L  C  O  N  O  Jl  Y 


by  Adam  Smith,  who  must  be  regarded  as  continuing  and 
completing  their  work! 

It  must  be  admitted  that  with  the  w^hole  modern  move- 
ment serious  moral  evils  were  almost  necessarily  con- 
nected. The  general  discipline  which  the  Middle  Ages 
had  sought  to  institute  and  had  partially  succeeded  in 
establishing,  though  on  precarious  bases,  having  broken 
down,  the  sentiment  of  duty  was  weakened  along  with  the 
spirit  of  tnsemhle  which  is  its  natural  ally,  and  individual- 
ism in  doctrine  tended  to  encourage  egoism  in  action.  In 
the  economic  field  this  result  is  specially  conspicuous. 
National  selfishness  and  private  cupidity  increasingly 
dominate ;  and  the  higher  and  lower  industrial  classes 
tend  to  separation  and  even  to  mutual  hostility.  The  new 
elements— science  and  industry — which  w^ere  gradually 
acquiring  ascendency  bore  indeed  in  their  bosom  an  ulti- 
mate discipline  more  efficacious  and  stable  than  that  which 
had  been  dissolved ;  but  the  final  synthesis  was  long  too 
remote,  and  too  indeterminate  in  its  nature,  to  be  seen 
through  the  dispersive  and  seemingly  incoherent  growth  of 
those  elements.  Now,  however,  that  synthesis  is  becoming 
appreciable ;  and  it  is  the  effort  towards  it,  and  towards 
the  practical  system  to  be  founded  on  it,  that  -gives  its 
])eculiar  character  to  the  period  in  which  we  live.  And  to 
this  spCBtaneous  nisus  of  society  corresponds,  as  we  shall 
see,  a  new  form  of  economic  doctrine,  in  which  it  tends  to 
be   absorbed  into  general  sociology  and  subordinated  to 

It  vrill  be  the  object  of  the  following  pages  to  verify 
and  illustrate  in  detail  the  scheme  here  broadly  indicated, 
and  to  point  out  the  manner  in  which  the  respective 
features  of  the  several  successive  modern  phases  find  their 
counterpart  and  reflexion  in  the  historical  development  of 
economic  speculation. 

FIRST  MODERN  PHASE. 

The  first  phase  was  marked,  on  the  one  hand,  by  the 
spontaneous  decomposition  of  the  mediaeval  system,  and, 
on  the  other,  by  the  rise  of  several  important  elements  of 
the  new  order.  The  spiritual  power  became  less  apt  as 
well  as  less  able  to  fulfil  its  moral  ofllce,  and  the  social 
movement  was  more  and  more  left  to  the  irregular  impulses 
of  individual  eneigy,  often  enlisted  in  the  service  of  am- 
bition and  cupidity.  Strong  Governments  were  formed, 
^hich  served  to  maintain  material  order  amidst  the  growing 
intellectual  and  moral  disorder.  The  universal  admission 
of  the  commons  as  an  element  in  the  political  system 
showed  the  growing  strength  of  the  industrial  forces,  as 
did  also  in  another  way  the  insurrections  of  the  working 
classes.  ■  The  decisive  prevalence  of  peaceful  activity  was 
indicated  by  the  rise  of  the  institution  of  paid  armies — at 
first  temporary,  afterwards  permanent — which  prevented 
the  interruption  or  distraction  'of  labour  by  devoting  a 
determinate  minority  of  the  population  to  martial  opera- 
tions and  exercises.  Manufactures  became  increasingly 
important  ;■  and  in  this  branch  of  industry  the  distinction 
between  the  entrepreneur  and  the  workers  was  first  firmly 
established,  whilst  fixed  relations  between  thesa  were  made 
possible  by  the  restriction  of  military  training  and  service 
to  a  special  profession.  Navigation  was  facilitated  by  the 
use  of  the  mariner  s  compass.  The  art  of  printing  showed 
how  the  intellectual  movement  and  the  industrial  develop- 
ment were  destined  to  be  brought  into  relation  with  each 
other  and  to  work  towards  common  ends.  Public  credit 
rose  in  Florence,  Venice,  and  Genoa  long  before  Holland 
and  England  attained  any  great  financial  importance.  Just 
at  the  close  of  the  phase,  the  discovery  of  America  and  of 
the  new  route  to  the  East,  whilst  revolutionizing  the  course 
of  trade,  prepared  the  way  for  the  establishment  of  colonies, 
which  contributed  powerfully  to  the  growing  prejjonderancs 


of  industrial  life,  and  pointed  to  its  ultimate  universality. 
It  is  doubtless  due  to  the  equivocal  nature  of  the  stage, 
standing  between  the  mediaaval  and  the  fully  characterizeo 
modern  period,  that  on  the  theoretic  side  we  find  nothing 
corresponding  to  this  maivcUous  practical  ferment  and  ex- 
pansion. The  general  political  doctrine  of  Aoninas  was 
retained,  with  merely  subordinate  modifications.  The  only 
special  economic  question  which  seems  to  have  received 
particular  attention  was  that  of  the  nature  and  functions 
of  money,  the  importance  of  which  began  to  be  felt  as 
payments  in  service  or  in  kind  were  discontinued,  and 
regular  systems  of  taxation  began  to  be  introduced.  ! 

Eoscher,  and  after  liiiu  W olowski,  have  called  attention  to  Nicole  , 
Oresme,  who  died  bishop  of  I.isieux  in  1382.  Roscher  pronouncea 
him  a  great  economist.  His  Traclatiis^  de  Origaie,  Natura,  Jure, 
et  Mutationibus  Monetarum  (reprinted  by  Wolowski,  1864)  contains 
a  theory  of  money  which  is  almost  entirely  correct  according  to 
the  views  of  the  19th  century,  and  is  stated  with  such  brevity,  cleai-- 
uess,  and  simplicity  of  language  as,  more  tlian  anythinf;  eke,  show 
the  work  to  be  from  the  hand  of  a  muster. 

SECOND   MODERN  PHASE  :    MERCANTILE  SYSTEM, 

Throughout  the  first  modern  phase  the  rise  of  the  new 
social  forces  had  been  essentially  spontaneous ;  in  the  second 
they  became  'the  object  of  systematic  encouragement  on  the 
part  of  Governments,  which,  now  that  the  financial  methods 
of  the  Middle  Ages  no  longer  sufficed,  could  not  further 
their  military  and  political  ends  by  any  other  means  than 
increased  taxation,  implying  augmented  wealth  of  the  com- 
munity. Industry  thus  became  a  permanent  interest  of 
European  Governments,  and  even  tended  to  become  the 
principal  .object  of  their  policy.  In  natural  harmony  with 
this  state  of  facts,  the  mercantile  system  arose  and  grew, 
attaining  its  highest  development  about  the  middle  of  the 
1 7th.  century. 

The  mercan'i;iJ3  doctrine,  stated  in  its  most  extreme 
form,  makes  wealt'a  and  money  identical,  and  regards  it 
I  therefore  as  the  great  object  of  a  community  so  to  conduct 
'  its  dealings  with  other  nations  as  to  attract  to  itself  the 
largest  possible  share  of  the  precious  metala.  Each 
country  must  seek  to  export  the  utmost  possible  quantity 
of  its  own  manufactures,  and  to  import  as  little  as  possible 
of  those  of  other  countries,  receiving  the  difference  of  the 
two  values  in  gold  and  silver.  This  difference  is  called 
the  balance  of  trade,  and  the  balance  is  favourable  when 
more  money  is  received  than  is  paid.  Governments  must 
resort  to  all  available  expedients — prohibition  of,  w  high 
duties  on,  the  importation  of  foreign  wares,  bounties  on  the 
export  of  home  manufactures,  restrictions  on  the  export  of 
the  precious  metals — for  the  purpose  of  securing  such  a 
balance. 

But  this  statement  of  the  doctrine,  though  current  in 
the  text  books,  does  not  represent  correctly  the  views  of 
all  who  must  be  classed  as  belonging  to  the  mercantile 
school.  Many  of  thd  members  of  that  school  were  much 
too  clear-sighted  to  entertain  the  belief,  which  the  modern 
student  feels  difficulty  in  supposing  any  class  of  thinkers 
to  have  professed,  that  wealth  consists  exclusively  of  gold 
and  silver.  The  mercantilists  may  be  best  described,  as 
Roscher  has  remarked,  not  by  any  definite  economic' 
theorem  which  they  held  in  common,  but  by  a  set  of 
theoretic  tendencies,  commonly  found  in  combination, 
though  severally  prevailing  in  different  degrees  in  different 
minds.  These  tendencies  may  be  enumerated  as  foUowi : 
— (1)  towards  overestimating  the  importance  of  possessing 
a  large  amount  of  the  precious  metals;  (3)  towards  an 
undue  exaltation  (a)  of  foreign  trade  over  domestic,  and 
(6)  of  the  industry  which  works  up  materials  over  that 
which  provides  them ;  (3)  towards  attaching  too  high  a 
value  to  a  dense  populat'on  as  an  element  of  national 
sti'ength  ,"  and  (4)  towards  invoking  the  action  of  the  state 


POLITICAL      ECONOMY 


35i 


in  furthering  artificially  the  attainment  of  the  several  ends 
thus  proposed  as  desirable. 

If  we  consider  the  contemporary  position  of  affairs  in 
western  Europe,  we  shall  have  no  ditficulty  in  understand- 
ing how  these  tendencies  would  inevitably  arise.  The 
discoveries  in  the  New  World  had  led  to  a  krge  de- 
\elopment  of  the  European  currencies.  ^'The  old  feudal 
economy,  founded  principally  on  dealings  in  kind,  had 
given  way  before  the  new  "  money  economy,"  and  the 
dimensions  of  the  latter  were  everywhere  expanding. 
Circulation  was  becoming  more  rapid,  distant  comniunica- 
tions  more  frequent,  city  life  and  movable  property  more 
importfant.  The  mercantilists  were  impressed  by  the  fact 
that  money  is  -wealth  sui  generis,  that  it  is  at  all  times  in 
universal  demand,  and  that  it  puts  into  the  hands  of  its 
possessor  the  power  of  acquiring  all  other  commodities. 
The  period,  again,  was  marked  by  the  formation  of  great 
states,  with  powerful  Governments  at  their  head.  These 
Governments  required  men  and  money  for  the  maintenance 
of  permanent  armies,  which,  especially  for  the  religious 
and  Italian  wars,  were  kept  up  on  a  great  scale.  Court 
expenses,  too,  were  more  lavish  than  ever  before,  and  a 
larger  number  of  civil  officials  was  employed.  The  royal 
domains  and  dues  were  insufficient  to  meet  these  require- 
ments, and  taxaiioa  grew  with  the  demands  of  the 
monarchies.  Statesmen  saw  that  for  their  own  political 
ends  industry  must  flourish.  But  manufactures  make 
possible  a  denser  population  and  a  higher  total  value  of 
exports  than  agriculture;  they  open  a  less  limited  and 
more  promptly  extensible  field  to  enterprise.  Henes  they 
became  the  object  of  special  Governmental  favour  and 
patronage,  whilst  agriculture  fell  comparatively  into  the 
background.  The  growth  of  manufactures  reactsd  on 
commerce,  to  which  a  new  and  mighty  arena  had  been 
opened  by  the  establishment  of  colonies.  These  were 
viewed  simply  as  estates  to  bo  worked  for  the  advantage 
of  the  mother  countries,  and  the  aim  of  statesmen  was  to 
m.ake  tho  colonial  trade  a  new  source  of  public  revenue. 
Each  nation,  as  a  whole,  working  for  its  own  power,  and 
the  greater  ones  for  predominance,  they  entered  into  a  com- 
petitive struggle  in  the  economic  no  less  than  in  the  politi- 
cal field,  success  in  the  former  being  indeed,  by  tho  rulers, 
regarded  as  instrumental  to  pre-eminence  in  the  latter. 
A  national  economic  interest  came  to  exist,  of  which  .the 
Government  made  itself  the  representative  head.  States 
became  a  sort  of  artificial  hothouses  for  the  rearing  of 
iirban  industries.  Production  was  subjected  to  systematic 
regulation  with  the  object  of  securing  the  goodness  and 
cheapness  of  the  exported  articles,  and  so  maintaining  the 
place  of  the  nation  in  foreign  markets.  The  industrial 
control  was  exercised,  in  part  directly  by  the  state,  but 
largely  also  through  privileged  corporations  and  trading 
companies.  High  duties  on  imports  were  resorted  to,  at 
first  perhaps  mainly  for  revenue,  but  afterwards  in  tho 
interest  of  national  production.  Commercial  treaties  were 
a  principal  object  of  diplomacy,  the  end  in  view  being 
to  exclude  the  competition  of  other  nations  in  foreign 
markets,  whilst  in  the  homo  market  as  little  room  as  pos- 
sible was  given  for  the  introduction  of  anything  but  raw 
materials  from  abroad.  The  colonies  were  prohibited  from 
trading  with  other  European  nations  than  tho  parent 
country,  to  which  they  supplied  cither  tho  precious  metals 
or  raw  produce  iiurchasod  with  home  manufactures.  It 
is  evident  that  what  is  known  as  tho  mercantile  doctrine 
was  essentially  the  theoretic  counterpart  of  tho  practical 
activities  of  the  time,  and  that  nations  and  Governments 
were  led  to  it,  not  by  any  form  of  scientific  thought,  but  by 
the  force  of  outward  circumstance,  and  the  observation  of 
facts  which,  lay  on  the  surface. 

.And  yet,  if  wo  regard  tho  question  from  the  highest 


[)oint  of  view  of  philosophic  history,  we  must  pronounce 
the  universal  enthusiasm  of  this  second  modern  phase  for 
manufactures  and  commerce  to  have  been  essentially  just, 
as  leading  the  nations  into  the  main  avenues  of  general 
social  development.  If  the  thought  of  the  period,  instead 
of  being  impelled  by  contemporary  circumstances,  could 
have  been  guided  by  sociological  prevision,  it  must  have 
entered  with  zeal  upon  the  same  path  which  it  empirically 
selected.  The  organization  of  agricultural  industry  could 
not  at  that  period  make  any  marked  progress,  for  the 
direction  of  its  operations  w'as  still  in  the'  hands  of  the 
feudal  class,  which  could  not  in  general  really  learn  the 
habits  of  industrial  life,  or  place  itself  in  sufficient  har- 
mony with  the  workers  on  its  domains.  The  indu5.try  of 
the  towns  had  to  precede  that  of  the  country,  and  the 
latter  had  to  be  developed  mainly  through  the  indirect 
action  of  the  former.  And  it  is  plain  that  it  was  in  the 
life  of  the  manufacturing  proletariat,  whose  labours  aro 
necessarily  the  most  continuous  and  the  most  social,  that  a 
.systematic  discipline  could  at  a  later  period  be  first  applied, 
to  be  afterwards  extended  to  the  rural  populations. 

That  the  efforts  of  Governments  for  the  furtherance  of 
manufactures  and  commerce  were  really  effective  towards 
that  end  is  admitted  by  Adam  Smith,  and  cannot  reason- 
ably be  doubted,  though  free  trade  doctrinaires  have  often 
denied  it.  Technical  skill  must  have  been  promoted  by 
their  encouragements ;  whilst  new  forms  of  national  pro- 
duction were  fostered  by  attracting  workmen  from  other 
countries,  and  by  lightening  the  burden  of  taxation  on 
struggling  industries.  Communication  and  transport  by 
land  and  sea  were  more  rapidly  improved  with  a  view  to 
facilitate  traffic ;  and,  not  the  least  important  effect,  tho 
social  dignity  of  the  industrial  professions  was  enhanced 
relatively  to  that  of  the  classes  before  exclusively  dominant. 

It  has  often  been  asked  to  whom  the  foundation  of  the 
mercantile  system,  in  the  region  whether  of  thought  or  oi 
practice,  is  to  be  attributed.  But  the  question  admits  of 
no  absolute  answer.  That  mode  of  conceiving  economic 
facts  arises  spontaneously  in  unscientific  minds,  and  ideas 
suggested  by  it  aro  to  be  found  in  the  Greek  and  Latin 
writers.  The  policy  which  it  dictates  was,  as  wo  have 
shown,  inspired  by  the  situation  of  the  European  nations 
at  the  opening  of  the  modern  period.  Such  a  policy  had 
been  already  in  some  degree  practised  in  the  lith  and 
15th  centuries,  thus  preceding  any  formal  exix)sition  or 
defence  of  its  speculative  basis.  At  the  commencement 
of  the  IGth  century  it  began  to  exercise  a  widely  ex- 
tended influence.  Charles  V.  adopted  it,  and  his  example 
contributed  much  to  its  predominance.  Henry  VIII. 
and  Elizabeth  conformed  their  measures  to  it.  Tho  lead- 
ing states  soon  entered  on  a  universal  competition,  in 
which  each  power  brought  into  i)lay  all  its  political  and 
financial  resonrces  for  the  purpose  of  securing  to  itself 
manufacturing  and  commercial  ])rcpondcrancc.  Through 
almost  the  whole  of  the  17th  century  tho  prize,  so  far  as 
commerce  was  concerned,  remained  in  tho  posscs.sion  of 
Holland,  Italy  having  lost  her  former  ascendency  by  tho 
opening  of  tho  now  maritime  routes  and  Spain  and 
Germany  being  depressed  by  protracted  wars  and  internal 
dissensions.  The  admiring  envy  of  Holland  felt  by 
English  politicians  and  economists  apjiears  in  such  writers 
us  llalcigh,  Mun,  Child,  and  Temple  ;  and  how  strongly 
tho  same  spectado  act>(:d  on  French  policy  is  shown  by  a 
well-known  letter  of  Colbert  to  M.  do  I'omponne,  arr^io 
sador  to  the  Dutch  States.  Cromwell,  by  his  Navigui.i. 
Act,  which  destroyed  tho  ciirrying  trade  of  Holland  ni... 
founded  tho  English  empire  of  the  sea,  and  Colbert,  by 
his  whole  economic  policy,  domestic  and  international, 
were  tho  chief  jiraclical  representative.'?  of  the  mercantile 
system.     From   tho   latter    great  statesman   tho   Itaiiau 


35G 


POLITICAL     ECONO]\IY 


publicist  Jlengotti  gave  to  tliat  system  the  name  of 
Colberlismo ;  but  it  would  be  an  error  to  consider  the 
French  minister  as  having  absolutely  accepted  its  dogmas. 
He  regarded  his  measures  as  temporary  only,  and  spoke  of 
jn'otective  duties  as  crutches  by  the  help  of  which  manu- 
facturers might  learn  to  walk  and  then  throw  them  away. 
The  policy  of  exclusions  had  been  previously  pursued  by 
Bully,  partly  with  a  view  to  the  accumulation  of  a  royal 
treasure,  but  chiefly  from  his  special  enthusiasm  for 
agriculture,  and  his  dislike  of  the  introduction  of  foreign 
luxuries  as  detrimental  to  the  national  character.  Colbert's 
tariff  of  1664  not  merely  simplified  but  considerably 
reduced  the  existing  duties ;  the  tariS  of  1667  indeed 
increased  them,  but  that  was  really  a  political  measure 
directed  against  the  Dutch.  It  seems  certain  that  France 
owed  in  a  large  measure  to  his  policy  the  vast  development  j 
of  trade  and  manufactures  which  so  much  impressed^  the 
imagination  of  contemporary  Europe,  and  of  which  we 
hear  so  much  from  English  wTiters  of  the  time  of  Petty. 
But  •  this  policy  had  also  undeniably  its  dark  side. 
Industry  ■  was  forced  by  such  systematic  regulation  to 
follow  invariable  courses,  instead  of  adapting  itself  to 
changing  tastes  and  popular  demand.  Nor  was  it  free  to 
simplify  the .  processes  of  production,  or  to  introduce 
iacreased  division  of  labour  and  improved  appliances. 
Spontaneity,  initiation,  and  invention  were  repressed  or 
discouraged,  and  thus  ulterior  sacrificed  in  a  great  measure 
to  immediate  results.  The  more  enlightened  statesmen, 
and  Colbert  in  particular,  endeavoured,  it  is  true,  to  mini- 
mize these  disadvantages  by  procuring,  often  at  great 
expense,  and  communicating  to  the  trades  through  inspec- 
tors nominated  by  the  Government,  information  respecting 
improved  processes  employed  elsewhere  in  the  several 
ftrts  ;  but  this,  though  in  some  degree  a  real,  was  certainly 
on  the  whole,  and  in  the  long  run,  an  insufficient  com- 
pensation. 

We  must  not  expect  from  the  writers  of  this  stage  any 
exposition  of  political  economy  as  a  whole ;  the  publica- 
tions which  appeared  were  for  the  most  part  evoked  by 
special  exigencies,  and  related  to  particular  questions, 
usually  of  a  practical  kind,  which  arose  out  of  the  great 
movements  of  the  time.  They  were  in  fact  of  the  nature 
of  counsels  to  the  Governments  of  states,  pointing  out  how 
best  they  might  develop  the  productive  powers  at  their 
disposal  and  increase  the  resources  of  their  respective 
countries.  They  are  conceived  (as  List  claims  for  them) 
strictly  in  the  spirit  of  national  economy,  and  cosmopoli- 
tanism is  essentially  foreign  to  them.  On  these  mono- 
graphs the  mercantile  theory'  sometimes  had  little  influ- 
ence, the  problems  discussed  not  involving  its  tenets.  But 
it  must  in  most  cases  be  taken  to  be  the  scheme  of  funda- 
mental doctrine  (so  far  as  It  was  ever  entitled  to  such  a 
description)  which  in  the  last  resort  underlies  the  writer's 
conclusions. 

The  rise  of  prices  following  on  the  discovery  of  the  American^ 
mines  was  one  of  the  subjects  which  first  attracted  th^  attention  of 
♦lieorists.  Tins  rise  brought  about  a  great  and  gradually  increasing 
disturbance  of  existing  economic  relations,  and  so  produced  much 
perplexity  and  anxiety,  which  were  all  the  more  felt  because  the'|. 
cause  of  the  change  was  not  understood.  To  this  was  added  the 
loss  and  inconvenience  arising  from  the  debasement  of  the  currency 
often  resorted  to  by  sovereigns  as  well  as  by  republican  states. 
Italy  suffered  most  from  this  latter  abuse,  which  was  multiplied  by. 
her  political  divisions.  It  was  this  evil  which  called  forth  the 
work  of  Count  Gasparo  Snarufii  {Discorso  sopra  le  moncte  e  dcHa 
vera  proporziont- frn  I'oro  e  Vargenlo,  1582).  I-n  this  he_  put 
forward  the  bold  idea  of  a  universal 'money,  everywhere  identical 
In  size,  shape,  composition,  and  designation.  The  project  was,  of 
sourse,  premature,  and  was  not  adopted  even  by  the  Italian  princes 
to  whom  the  author  specially  appealed  ;  but  the  reform  is  one  whirh,. 
ioubtlcss,  the  future  will  see  realized.  Gian  Donato  Tiirbolo, 
master  of  the  Neapolitan  mint,  in  his  Discorsi  e  Rdazioni,  1629, 
(irotested  a;^'ainst  any, tampering  with  the  currency.  Another 
j:Eatise  relating  to  the  subject  of  money  was  that  of  the  Florentine 


Bernardo  Davanzaii,  otherwise  known  as  the  able  translator  ol 
Tacitus,  Lezioiii  delle  Monetc,  1588.  It  is  a  slight  and  somewhat 
superficial  production,  only  remarkable  as.  written  with  conciscuess 
and  elegance  of  style. 

A  French  writer  who  dealt  wan  tne  question  of  money,  but  from 
a  different  point  of  view,  was  Jean  Bodiu.  In  his  Heponse  aux 
paradoxes  de  Jtf,  Malestroil  i'ouchant  I'enchirisscinent  dc  toutcs  les 
choscs  et  dcs  mounaics,  1568,  aud.in  his  Discours  sur  le  rehausscment! 
et  diminution  dcs  monnaics,  1578,  he  showed  a  more  ration.il 
appreciation  than  many  of  his  contemporaries  of  the  causes  of  tlie 
revolution  iu  prices,  and  the  relation  of  the  variations  in  money  ta 
the  market  values  of  wares  iu  general  as  well  as  to  the  wages  ol 
labour.  He  saw  that  the  amount  of  money  in  circulation  did  not 
constitute  the  wealth  of  the  community,  and  that  the  prohibition 
of  the  export  of  tlie  precious  metals  was  useless,  bec.iuse  rendered 
inoperative  by  the  necessitiis  of  trade.  Bodin  is  no  inconsidcrablt 
figure  in  the  literary  history  of  the  epoch,  and  did  not  confine  bin 
attention  to  economic  problems  ;  in  his  Six  livrcs  de  la  Eepubliqne^ 
about  1676,  he  studies  the  general  conditions  of  the  prosperity  au^I 
stability  of  states.  In  harmony  with  the  conditions  of  his  age,  li}< 
approves  of  absolute  Governments  as  the  most  competent  to  ensur( 
the  security  and  wellbeing  of  their  subjects.  He  enters  into  aq 
elaborate  defence  of  individual  property  against  Plato  and  Jlor*, 
rather  perhaps  because  the  scheme  of  his  work  recjuired  the  ticat^ 
nieut  of  that  theme  than  because  it  was  practically  urgent  in  bin 
day,  when  the  excesses  of  the  Anabaptists  had  produced  a  stroi>;j 
feeling  against  communistic  doctrines.  He  is  under  the  general 
influence  of  the  mercantilist  views,  and  approves  of  energctii: 
Governmental  interference  in  industrial  matters,  of  high  taxes  on 
foreign  manufactures  and  low  duties  on  raw  materials  and  artidet 
of  food,  and  attaches  great  importance  to  a  dense  population. 
But  he  is  not  a  blind  follower  of  the  system  ;  he  wishes  foruU' 
limited  freedom  of  trade  in  many  cases  ;  and  he  is  iu  advance  of  his 
more  eminent  contemporary  Montaigne  in  perceiving  that  the  gain 
of  one  nation  is  not  necessarily  the  loss  of  another.  To  the  public 
finances,  which  he  calls  the  sinews  of  the  state,  he  devotes  much 
attention,  and  insists  on  the  duties  of  the  Government  in  respect  to 
the  right  adjustment  of  taxation.  In  general  he  deserves  the  praisH 
of  steadily  keeping  in  view  the  higher  aims  and  interests  of  society 
in  connexion  with  the  regulation  and  develoi'ment  of  its  material 
life. 

Correct  views  as  to  the  cause  of  the  general  rise  of  prices  are  also  SlaBort 
put  forward  by  the  English  writer,  W.  S.  (William  Stafford),  in 
his  Briefe  Conceiptc  of  English  Policy,  published  in  1581,  and 
dedicated  to  Queen  Elizabeth.  It  is  in  the  fonu  of  a  dialogue,  and 
is  written  with  liveliness  and  spirit.  The  author  seems  to  have 
been  acquainted  with  the  writings  of  Bodin.  He  has  just  ideas  as 
to  the  nature  of  money,  and  fully  understands  the  evils  arising 
'from  a  debased  coinage.  He  describes  in  detail  the  way  in  which 
the  several  interests  iu  the  country  had  been  affected  by  such  debase- 
ment in  previous  reigns,  as  well  as  by  the  change  in  the  value  of 
the  precious  metals.  The  great  popular  giievance  of  his  day,  the 
conversion  of  arable  land  into  pasture,  he  attributes  chiefly  to  the 
restrictions  on  the  export  of  corn,  which  he  desires  to  see  abolished. 
But  iu  regard  to  manufactures  he  is  at  the  same  point  of  view 
with  the  later  mercantilists,  and  proposes  the  exclusion  of  all 
foreign  wares  which  might  as  well  be  provided  at  home,  and  the 
prohibition  of  the  export  of  raw  materials  intended  to  be  worked 
up  abroad. 

Out  of  the  question  of  money,  too,  arose  the  first  remarkable 
German  production  on  political  economy  which  had  au  original 
national  character  and  addressed  the  public  in  the  native  tongue. 
Duke  George  of  the  Ernesline  Saxon  line  was  inclined  (1530)  to 
introduce  a  debasement  of  the  currency.  A  pamphlet,  Gcmcine 
Stijmmcn  ran  der  Miintzc,  was  publisl>ed  in  opposition  to  this  pro- 
ceeding, under  the  auspices  of  the  Albertine  branch,  whose  policy  was 
sounder  in  the  economic  sphere  no  less  than  in  that  of  ecclesiasticaj 
afl'airs.  A  reply  appeared  justifying  the  Ernestine  project.  Thii 
was  followed  by  a  rejoinder  from  the  Albertinoside.  The  Ernestine 
pamphlet  is  described  by  Roscher  as  ill-writt'en,  obscure,  inflated, 
and,  as  might  be  expected  from  the  thesis  itmaintained,  sojihistical. 
But  it  is  interesting  as  containing  a  statement  of  the  fundamental 
principles  of  the  mercantile  system  more  than  one  hundred  years 
before  the  publication  of  Mun's  book,  and  forty-six  before  that  oi 
Bodin's  Six  livrcs  dc  la  Ilepiiblique..^,The  Albertine,  tracts,  accord- 
ing to  Roscher,  .exhibit  such  sound  vieys  of  the  conditions  and 
evidences  of- national  wealth,  of  the  nature  of  money  and  trade,  and 
of  the  rights  and  duties  of  Governments  in  relation-  to  economic 
action,  that  he  regards  the  unknown  author  as  entitled  to  a  place 
beside  Raleigh  and  the  other  English  "colonial-theorists'-  of  the  en-u 
of  the  16th  and  beginning  of  the  17th  century. 

In  connexion  with  the  same  subject  of  money  we  meet  the  great 
name  of  Copernicus.  His  treatise  De  moncise-cndendm  riitionti 
1526  (first  printed  in-1816),  was  written  by  older  of  King  Sigis- 
mund  I.,  and  is  an  exposition  of  the  ]irinoi]ilcs  on  which  it  was  pro 
poscil  to  reform  the  currency  of  the  rrnssiau  provinces  ofXolanih 
It  advocates  unity  of  the  monetary  system  throuKhout  t\\^  eiitirS 


Albert 
panij>]i 

'ets. 


POLITICAL     ECONOI^IY 


357 


Ktatc,  with  strict   integrity  in  the  tuiality  of  tlie  coin,   and  the  ' 
tliar^'O  of  a  seigniorage  sullicient  to  cover  the  cxjienscs  of  mintage.   | 

Antonio  Serra  is  regardcil  by  some  as  the  creator  of  modiTn 
jiolitieiil  economy.  He  was  a  nutive  of  Cuscnza  in  Calabria.  His 
JJrcic  Tiallato  delle  cause  cite  jiossono  fare  abOondcux  U  rcijui  d'oro  e 
tVaiyenlo  doce  non  soiio  iiiinicre,  1U13,  was  written  during  his 
inipri.sonniciit,  wliicli  is  believed  to  have  been  duo  to  his  having 
l.aken  p.irt  in  the  conspiracy  of  Campanella  for  the  liberation  of 
Naples  from  the  Spanisli  yoke  and  the  establishment  of  a  republican 
fjovernment.  This  work,  long  overlooked,  was  brought  into  notice 
in  the  following  century  by  Galiani  and  others.  Its  title  alone 
would  sulficiently  indicate  that  the  autlior  had  adopted  the 
]irinciplc8  of  tlie  mercantile  system,  and  in  fact  in  this  treatise  the 
u.s^.ential  doctrines  of  that  system  are  expounded  in  a  tolerably 
formal  and  consecutive  manner.  He  strongly  insists  on  the 
superiority  of  manufactures  over  agriculture  as  a  source  of  national 
wi'alth,  and  uses  in  supiiort  of  this  view  the  prosperity  of  Genoa, 
I'lorence,  and  Venice,  as  contrasted  with  the  depressed  condition 
of  Naples.  With  larger  in-iglit  tlian  many  of  the  mercantilists 
exhibit,  he  points  out  tlio  importance,  towanls  the  acquisition  of 
wealth,  not  alone  of  favourable  external  conditions,  but  of  energetic 
cljaracter  and  industrious  habits  in  a  population,  as  well  as  of  a 
.stable  government  and  a  good  administration  of  the  laws. 

Tiie  first  systematic  treatise  on  our  science  which  proceeded 
lioni  a  French  author  was  the  Traili  de  I'liconomie  Politique, 
puldished  by  llontcliretien  de  WatteviUe  in  1615.  The  use  of  the 
title,  says  Koscher,  now  for  the  first  time  given  to  the  science,  was 
in  itself  an  important  service,  since  even  Bacon  understood  by 
"Economia"  only  the  theory  of  domestic  management.  The 
general  tendencies  and  aims  of  the  period  are  seen  in  the  fact  that 
this  treatise,  notwithstanding  the  compreliensivo  name  it  bears, 
(lues  not  deal  with  agriculture  at  all,  but  only  with  the  mechanical 
nrts,  navigation,  commerce,  and  public  finance.  The  author  is 
filled  with  the  then  dominant  enthusiasm  for  foreign  trade  and 
colonies.  He  advocates  tlio  control  by  princes  of  the  industry  of 
tlieir  subjects,  and  condemns  the  too  great  freedom,  which,  in  his 
opinion  to  their  own  detriment,  the  Governments  of  Spain,  Portugal, 
and  Holland  had  given  to  trade.  His  book  may  be  regarded  as  a 
formal  exposition  of  the  principles  of  the  mercantile  system  for  the 
use  of  Frenchmen. 

A  similar  office  was  performed  in  England  by  Thomas  Mun.  In 
)iis  two  works  A  Discourse  of  Trade  from  England  unto  the  East 
Indies,  2d  ed. ,  1621,  and  especially  in  England's  Treasure  by  Foreign 
Trade,  1664  (posthnmonsl,  we  have  for  the  first  time  a  clear  and 
Hystematic  st.itenient  of  the  theory  of  the  balance  of  trade,  as  well 
as  of  the  means  by  which,  according  to  the  author's  view,  a  favour- 
able balance  could  bo  secured  for  England.  The  great  object  of 
the  economic  policy  of  a  state,  according  to  him,  should  he  so  to 
manage  its  export  of  manufactures,  its  direct  and  carrying  trade, 
and  its  customs  duties  as  to  attract  to  itself  money  from  abroad. 
He  was,  however,  opposed  to  the"  proljibition  of  the  export  of  the 
precious  metals  in  exchange  for  foreign  wares,  but  on  the  ground, 
iujly  according  \*ith  his  general  principles,  that  those  wares  might 
afterwards  be  re-exported  and  might  then  bring  back  more  treasure 
than  had  been  originally  expended  in  their  purchase;  the  first 
export  of  money  might  be,  as  lie  said,  the  seed-time,  of  which  tlie 
ultimate  receipt  of  a  larger  amount  would  be  the  harvest.  He  caw, 
too,  that  it  is  inexiicdieut  to  have  too  much  money  circulating  in  a 
country,  as  this  enhances  the  prices  of  commodities,  and  so  makes 
them  less  saleable  to  foreigners,  but  he  is  favourable  to  the  forma- 
tion and  maintenance  of  a  state  treasure.' 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  of  the  moderate  mercantilists  was 
Sir  Josiah  Child  {Brief  Observations  concerning  Trade  and  the 
Interest  of  Money,  1663,  and  A  New  Discourse  of  Trade,  1668  and 
1690).  Ho  was  one  of  tho.so  who  held  up  Holland  as  a  model  for 
the  imitation  of  his  fellow-countrymen.  He  is  strongly  impressed 
witli  tho  importance  for  national  wealth  and  wellheing  of  a  low  rate 
of  interest,  which  he  says  is  to  commerce  and  agriculture  what  tho 
Bonl  is  to  tho  body,  and  which  ho  held  to  be  the  "  causa  causans  of 
nil  tho  other  causes  of  the  riches  of  the  Dutch  people."  Instead  of 
regarding  such  low  rate  as  dependent  on  determinate  conditions, 
wltieh  should  be  allowed  to  evolve  themselves  spontaneously,  he 
thinks  it  .should  bo  created  and  maintained  by  iiublic  authority. 
Child,  whilst  adiiering  to  tho  doctrine  of  the  balance  of  trade, 
observes  that  a  people  cannot  always  sell  to  foreigners  without 
ever  buying  from  them,  and  denies  that  the  export  of  the  precious 
metals  is  necessarily  detrimental.     He  has  the  ordinary  mercantilist 

Iiartiality  for  a  numerous  population.  Ho  advocates  the  reservation 
>y  the  mother  country  of  tlic  .sole  right  of  trade  with  her  colonics, 
and,  under  certain  limitations,  the  formation  of  privileged  trading 
oonipanios.     As  to  tho  Navigation -Act,  ho  takes  up  a  position  not 

>  Writers  of  less  Imporfnncc  who  followet!  llio  same  direction  were  Sir  Tliomns 
Clilpcpcr  (A  Trnct  a<i<iiiitl  (he  Illfli  Rale  of  Unirji,  1C2.1,  and  Virfiil  Remark  on 
High  liiltreH,  ICll);  Sir  Duillcy  l)i|;Ki-s  Ulefeiice  of  Trade,  101.'));  G.  M.ilvnca 
{Contmtii'io  ttt  Li-x  Mtrcatoria,  IC'.'-');  E,  .Misspiclen  iCtrrJe  of  Commerce,  IG'i'i); 
Siimiiul  Koiticy  (^»f//riH<r«  /jit/re^t  aiitt  Improrrmriit,  1(1(1.1  nml  1(17.1);  nnd  Joiin 
Pnllcxfen  {Enjlanti  and  India  incomiitad  in  their  Manu/acturcs,  )<J97). 


unlike  that  afterwards  occupied  by  Adam  Smith,  regarding  that 
measure  much  more  favourably  from  the  political  than  from  tho 
economic  point  of  view.  It  will  be  seen  that  he  is  somewhat  eclectic 
in  his  opinions;  but  ho  cannot  properly  bo  regarded,  thougli  some 
have  attributed  to  him  that  character,  as  a  precursor  of  the  free- 
trade  school  of  the  18  Ih  century. 

Two  other  eclectics  may  bo  here  mentioned,  in  whom  just 
views  are  mingled  with  mercantilist  prejudices— Sir  William 
Temple  and  Charles  Davenant.  Tho  former  in  his  Observations 
iqion  the  United  Province^  of  the  Netherlands,  1672,  and  his  Essay 
on  the  Trade  of  Ireland,  1673,  ha.s  many  excellent  remarks  on 
fundamental  economic  principles,  as  on  the  functions  of  labour  ami 
of  saving  in  the  production  of  national  wealth;  but  he  is  infected 
with  the  errors  of  the  theory  of  the  balance  of  trade.  He  follows 
the  lead  of  Raleigh  and  Child  in  urging  his  fellow-countrymen  to 
imitate  the  example  of  the  Dutch  in  their  economic  policy— advica 
which  in  his  case  was  founded  on  his  observations  during  a 
lengthened  residence  in  Holland  as  ambassador  to  the  States- 
Davenant,  in  his  Essay  on  the  East-India  Trade,  1696-97,  Essay 
on  the  Probable  Ways  of  making  the  People  Gainers  in  the  Balance 
of  Trade,  1699,  &c.,  also  takes  up  an  eclectic  position,  combining 
some  correct  views  on  wealth  and  money  with  mercantilist  notions 
on  trade,  and  recommending  Governmental  restrictions  on  colonial 
commerce  as  strongly  as  he  advocates  freedom  of  exchange  at  home. 

Whilst  tlie  mercantile  system  represented  the  prevalent 
form  of  economic  thought  in  the  17th  century,  and  was 
alone  dominant  in  the  region  of  practical  statesmanship, 
there  was  growing  up,  side  by  side  with  it,  a  body  of 
opinion,  different  and  indeed  hostile  in  character,  which 
was  destined  ultimately  to  drive  it  from  the  field.  The 
new  ideas  were  first  developed  in  England,  though  it  was 
in  France  that  in  the  following  century  they  took  hold  of 
the  public  mind,  and  became  a  power  in  politics.  That 
they  should  first  show  themselves  here,  and  afterwards  be 
extended,  applied,  and  propagated  throughout  Europe  by 
French  writers,  belongs  to  the  order  of  things  according  to 
which  the  general  negative  doctrine  in  morals  and  politics, 
undoubtedly'  of  English  origin,  found  its  chief  home  in 
France,  and  was  thence  diffused  in  widening  circles 
through  the  civilized  world.  In  England  this  movement 
of  economic  thought  took  the  shape  mainly  of  individual 
criUcism  of  the  prevalent  doctrines,  founded  on  a  truer 
analysis  of  facts  and  conceptions ;  in  France  it  was  pene- 
trated with  a  powerful  social  sentiment,  furnished  the 
creed  of  a  party,  and  inspired  a  protest  against  institutiona 
and  an  urgent  demand  for  practical  reform. 

Regarded  from  the  theoretic  side,  tho  characteristic 
features  of  the  new  direction  were  the  following.  The 
view  of  at  least  the  extreme  mercantilists  that  national 
wealth  depends  on  the  accumulation  of  the  precious  metala 
is  proved  to  be  false,  and  the  gifts  of  nature  and  the 
labour  of  man  are  shown .  to  be  its  real  sources.  The 
exaggerated  estimate  of  tho  importance  of  foreign  com- 
merce is  reduced,  and  attention  is  once  more  turned  to 
agricultuie  and  the  conditions  of  its  successful  prosecu- 
tion. On  the  side  of  practical  policy,  a  so-caUed  favour- 
able balance  of  trade  is  seen  not  to  be  tho  true  object  of  a 
nation's  or  a  statesman's  efforts,  but  tho  procuring  for  the 
whole  population  in  the  fullest  measure  the  enjoyment  of 
tho  necessaries  and  conveniences  of  life.  And — what  more 
than  anything  else  contrasts  the  new  system  with  tho  old 
— the  elaborate  apparatus  of  prohibitions,  protective 
duties,  bounties,  monopolies,  and  privileged  corporations, 
which  the  European  Governments  had  created  in  the  sup- 
posed interests  of  manufactures  and  trade,  is  denounced  or 
deprecated  as  more  an  impediment  than  a  furtherance,  and 
the  freedom  of  industry  is  insisted  on  as  the  one  thing 
needful.  This  circle  of  ideas,  of  course,  emerges  only 
gradually,  and  its  earliest  representatives  in  economic 
literature  in  general  apprehend  it  imperfectly  and  advocate 
it  with  reserve ;  but  it  rises  steadily  in  importance,  being 
more  and  more  favoured  by  the  highest  minds,  and  finding 
an  increasing  body  of  supporters  amongst  tte  intelligent 
public. 


358 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


Some  occasional  traits  of  an  economic  scheme  in  harmony  witn 
these  new  tendencies  are  to  be  found  in  the  De  Cine  and  Leviathan 
of  Hobbes.  iJat  the  efficacy  of  that  great  thinker  lay  rather  in  the 
general  philosophic  field ;  and  by  systematizing,  for  the  first  time, 
the  whole  negative  doctrine,  he  gave  a  powerful  impulse  towards 
the  demolition  of  the  existing  social  order,  which  was  destined,  as 
we  shall  see,  to  have  momentous  consequences  in  the  economic  no 
less  than  in  the  strictly  political  department  of  things. 

A  writer  of  no  such  extended  range,  but  of  much  sagacity  and 
igood  sense,  was  Sir  William  Petty  (y.f. ),  author  of  a  number  of 
pieces  containing  germs  of  a  sound  economic  doctrine.  A  leading 
thought  in  his  writings  is  that  "labour  is  the  father  and  active 
principle  of  wealth,  lands  are  the  mother."  He  divides  a 
population  into  two  classes,  the  productive  and  the  unproductive, 
according  as  they  are  or  are  not  occupied  in  producing  useful 
material  things.  The  value  of  any  commodity  depends,  he  says, 
anticipating  Ricardo,  on  the  amount  of  labour  necessary  for  its 
production.  He  is  desirous  of  obtaining  a  universal  measure  of 
value,  and  chooses  as  his  unit  the  average  food  of  the  cheapest 
kind  required  for  a  man's  daily  sustenance.  He  underetands  the 
nature  of  the  rent  of  laud  as  the  excess  of  price  over  the  cost  of 
production.  He  disapproves  of  the  attempt  to  fix  by  authority  a 
maximum  rate  of  interest,  and  is  generally  opposed  to  Governmental 
interference  with  the  course  of  industry.  He  sees  that  a  country 
requites  for  its  exchanges  a  definite  quantity  of  money  and  may 
have  too  much  of  it,  and  condemns  the  prohibition  of  its  exporta- 
tion. He  holds  that  one  only  of  the  precious  metals  must  be  the 
foundation  of  the  currency,  the  other  circulating  as  an  ordinary 
article  of  merchandise.  Petty's  name  is  specially  associated  with 
the  progress  of  statistics,  with  which  he  was  much  occupied,  and 
which  he  called  by  the  name  of  political  arithmetic.  Reljing  on 
the  results  of  such  inquiries,  he  set  himself  strongly  against  the 
opinion  whicli  had  been  advanced  by  the  author  of  Britannia  Lan- 
(jiuns  (1680),  Fortrey,  Roger  Coke,  and  other  writers,  that  the 
prosperity  of  England  was  on  the  decline. 
Bit  Tlie  most  thorough-going  and  emphatic   assertion  of  the  free- 

Dudley  trade  doctrine  against  the  system  of  prohibitions  which  had 
North,  gained  strength  by  the  Revolution  was  contained  in  Sir  Dudley 
North's  Discourses  upon  Trade,  1691.  He  fhows  that  wealth  may 
exist  independently  of  gold  or  silver,  its  source  being  human 
industry,  applied  either  to  the  cultivation  of  the  soil  or  to  manu- 
factures. The  precious  metals,  however,  are  one  element  of  national 
wealth,  and  perform  highly  important  oftices.  Money  may  exist 
in  excess,  as  well  as  in  defect,  in  a  country";  and  the  quantity 
of  it  required  for  the  purposes  of  trade  wiU  vary  with  circum- 
stances ;  its  ebb  and  flow  will  regulate  themselves  spontaneously. 
It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  stagnation  of  trade  arises  from  want 
of  money  ;  it  must  arise  either  from  a  glut  of  the  home  market,  or 
from  a  disturbance  of  foreign  commerce,  or  from  diminished  con- 
sumption caused  by  poverty.  The  export  of  money  in  the  course  of 
traflic,  instead  of  diminishing,  increases  the  national  wealth,  trade 
being  only  an  exchange  of  superfluities.  Nations  are  related  to 
the  world  just  in  the  same  way  as  cities  to  the  state  or  as  families 
to  the  city.  North  emphasizes  more  than  his  predecessors  the 
value  of  the  home  trade.  With  respect  to  the  interest  of  capital,  he 
maintains  that  it  depends,  like  the  price  of  any  commodity,  on  the 
proportion  of  demand  and  supply,  and  that  a  low  rate  is  a  result 
of  the  relative  increase  of  capital,  and  cannot  be  brought  about  by 
arbitrary  regulations,  as  had  been  proposed  by  Child  and  others. 
In  arguing  the  question  of  free  trade,  he  urges  that  individuals 
often  take  their  private  interest  as  the  measure  of  good  and  evil, 
and  would  for  its  sake  debar  others  from  their  equal  right  of  buy- 
ing and  selling,  but  that  every  advantage  given  to  one  interest  or 
branch  of  trade  over  another  is  injurious  to  the  public.  No  trade 
is  unprofitable  to  the  public  ;  if  it  were,  it  would  be  given  up ; 
when  trades  thrive,  so  does  the  public,  of  which  they  form  a  part. 
Prices  must  determine  themselves,  and  cannot  be 'fixed  bylaw; 
and  all  forcible  interference  w  ith  them  does  harm  instead  of  good. 
No  people  can  become  rich  by  state  regulations, — only  by  peace, 
industry,  freedom,  and  unimpeded  economic  activity.  It  will  be 
seen  how  closely  North's  view  of  tilings  approaches  to  that  embodied 
some  eighty  years  later  in  Adam  Smith's  great  work. 

Locke  is  represented  by  Roscher  as,  along  with  Petty  and  North, 
making  up  the  "triumvirate"  oT  eminent  British  economists  of 
this  period  who  laid  the  foundations  of  a  new  and  more  rational 
doctrine  than  that  of  the  mercantilists.  But  this  view  of  his 
claims  seems  capable  of  being  accepted  only  with  considerable  de- 
ductions. His  specially  economic  writings, are  Comideraiions  of 
the  lowering  of  Interest  and.  raising  the  value  of  Money,  1691,  and 
Further  Considerations,  1698.  Though  Leibnitz  declared  with 
respect  to  these  treatises  tliat  nothing  moro  solid  or  intelligent 
could  be  said  on  their  subject,  it  is  difficult  absolutely  to  adopt 
that  verdict.  Locke's  spirit  of  sober  observation  and  patient 
analysis  led  him  indeed  to  some  just  conclusions ;  and  he  is  entitled 
to  the  credit  of  having  energetically  resisted  the  debasement  of 
the  currency,  which  Avas  t'neu  recommended  by  some  who  were 
held  to  be  eminent  practical  authorities.     But  he  falls  into  errors 


which  show  that  he  had  not  by  any  moans  completely  emancipates 
himself  from  the  ideas  of  tlie  mercantile  system.  He  attaches  far 
too  much  importance  to  money  as  sucli.  He  says  expressly  tliat 
riches  consist  in  a  plenty  of  gold  and  silver,  that  is,  as  he  explains, 
in  having  more  in  proportion  of-  those  metals  than  the  rest  of  the 
world  or  than  onr  neighbours.  "  In  a  country  not  furnished  with 
mines,  tliere  are  but  two  ways  of  growing  rich,  either  conquest  or 
commerce."  Hence  he  accepts  the  doctrine  of  the  balance  of  trade. 
He  shows  that  the  rate  of  interest  can  no  more  be  fixed  bylaw  than 
the  rent  of  houses  or  the  hire  of  ships,  and  opposes  Child's  demand 
for  legislative  interference  with  it.  But  he  erroneously  attributed 
the  fall  of  the  rate  which  had  taken  place  generally  in  Europe  to 
the  increase  of  the  quantity  of  gold  and  silver  by  the  discovery  of 
the  American  mines.  He  sets  too  absolute  a  value  on  a  numerous 
population,  in  this  point  agreeing  with  Petty.  On  wages  he 
observes  that  the  rate  must  be  such  as  to  cover  the  indispensable 
wants  of  the  labourer  ;  when  the  price  of  subsistence  rises,  wages 
must  rise  in  a  like  ratio,  or  the  working  population  must  come  on 
the  poor-rates.  The  fall  of  the  rent  of  land  he  regards  as  a  sure 
sign  of  the  decline  of  national  wealth.  "Taxes,  however  contrived, 
and  out  of  whose  hands  soever  immediately  taken,  do,  in  a  country 
where  their  great  fund  is  in  land,  for  the  most  part  terminate  upon 
land."  In  this  last  proposition  we  see  a  foreshadowing  of  the  imp6t 
unique  of  the  physiocrats.  Whatever  may  have  been  Locke's  direct 
economic  services,  his  principal  importance,  like  that  of  Hobbes, 
lies  in  his  general  philssophic  and  political  principles,  which  power- 
fully affected  French  and  indeed  European  thought,  exciting  a  spirit 
of  opposition  to  arbitrary  power,  and  laying  the  foundation  of  tho 
doctrine  developed  in  the  Contrat  Social.'^ 

THIRD  MODERN   PHASE  :    SYSTEM   OF   NATURAL    LIBERTY. 

Both  in  England  and  France  the  ruling  powers  had 
already  begun  to  be  alarmed  by  the  subversive  tendencies 
which  appeared  inherent  in  the  modern  movement,  and 
took  up  in  consequence  an  attitude  of  resistance.  Reaction 
became  triumphant  in  France  during  the  latter  half  (jf 
the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  under  the  disastrous  influence  of 
Madame  de  JIaintenon.  lu  England,  after  the  transaction 
of  1688,  by  which  the  government  was  consolidated  on  the 
double  basis  of  aristocratic  power  and  official  orthodoxy,  the 
state  policy  became  not  so  much  retrograde  as  stationary, 
industrial  conquest  being  put  forward  to  satisfy  the  middle 
class  and  wean  it  from  the  pursuit  of  a  social  renovation. 
In  both  countries  there  was  for  some  time  a  noticeable 
check  in  the  intellectual  development,  and  Roscher  and 
others  have  observed  that,  in  economic  studies  particularly, 
the  first  three  decades  of  the  1 8th  century  were  a  period 
of  general  stagnation,  eclecticism  for  the  most  part  taking 
the  place  of  originality.  The  movement  was,  however, 
soon  to  be  resumed,  but  with  an  altered  and  more  formid- 
able character.  The  negative  doctrine,  which'  had  risen 
and  taken  a  definite  form  in  England,  was  dift'used  and 
popularized  in  France,  where  it  became  evident,  even 
before  the  decisive  explosion,  that  the  only  possible  issue 
lay  in  a  radical  social  transformation.  The  partial  schools 
of  Voltaire  and  Rousseau  in  different  ways  led  up  to  a 
violent  crisis,  whilst  taking  little  thought  of  the  conditions 
of  a  system  which  could  replace  the  old;  but  the  more 
complete  and  organic  school,  of  which  Diderot  is  the  best 
representative,  looked  through  freedom  to  reorganization. 
Its  constructive  aim  is  shown  by  the  design  of  the  Ency- 
dopedie, — a  project,  however,  which  could  have  only  a 
temporary  success,  because  no  real  synthesis  was  forth- 
coming, and  this  joint  production  of  minds  often  divergent 
could  possess  no  more  than  an  external  unity.  It  was 
with  this  great  school  that  the  physiocrats  were  Specially 
connected;  and,  in  common  with  its  other  members,  whilst 

I  Minor  English  wi  iters  who  followed  the  new  econontic  direction  were  Lewis 
Roberts,  Treasure  of  Traffic}:,  1641;  Rice  Vaughnn,  Discourse^/  Coin  and  Coinage, 
lh75  ;  NiclioUs  Barijon,  Discourse  concerning  Coining  the  nexo  money  lighter,  icy6, 
in  which  some  of  Locke's  errors  were  pointed  out ;  and  the  author  of  an  anonymous 
book  entitled  Considerations  on  the  East  India  JTradf,  1701.  Practical  questions 
inuch  debated  at  this  period  were  those  connected  with  banking,  on  whirh  a 
lengthened  controversy  Took  place.  S.  Lamb,  W.  Pi.tter,  F.  Cradocke,  M.  Lewis, 
M.  Godfrey,  R.  Murray,  H.  Chamterlcn.  and  W.  Pateison,  founder  of  the  Biink 
of  England  (1694),  pioducing  many  pamphlets  on  the  subject ;  and  the  man.^ge-; 
ment  of  the  pot  r.  w  liich  was  treated  by  Locke,  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  R,  Haine£>. 
T.  firmin,  tmd  others. 


POLITICAL     ECONO]\IY 


359 


pushing  towards  an  entire  change  of  the  existing  system, 
they  yet  would  gladly  have  avoided  political  demolition 
through  the  exercise  of  a  royal  dictatorship,  or  contemplated 
it  only  as  the  necessary  condition  of  a  new  and  better  order 
of  things.  But,  though  marked  off  by  such  tendencies  from 
the  purely  revolutionary  sects,  their  method  and  funda- 
mental ideas  were  negative,  resting,  as  they  did.  essenti- 
ally on  the  basis  of  the  jus  naturx.  We  shall  follow  in 
detail  these  French  developments  in  their  special  relation 
to  economic  science,  and  afterwards  notice  the  correspond- 
ing movements  in  other  European  countries  which  showed 
themselves  before  the  appearance  of  Adam  Smith,  or  were 
at  least  unaffected  by  his  influence. 

1.  Before  Adam  Smith. 

France. — The  more  liberal,  as  well  as  more  rational, 
principles  put  forward  by  the  English  thinkers  of  the  new 
type  began,  early  in  the  18th  century,  to  find  an  echo  in 
France,  where  the  clearer  and  more  vigorous  intellects 
were  prepared  for  their  reception  by  a  sense  of  the  great 
evils  which  exaggerated  mercantilism,  serving  as  instru- 
ment of  political  ambition,  had  produced  in  that  country. 
The  impoverished  condition  of  the  agricultural  population, 
the  oppressive  weight  and  unequal  imposition  of  taxation, 
and  the  unsound  state  of  the  public  finances  had  produced 
a  general  feeling  of  disquiet,  and  led  several  distinguished 
writers  to  protest  strongly  against  the  policy  of  Colbert  and 
to  demand  a  complete  reform. 

Tlie  most  important  among5t  them  was  Pierre  Boisguillebert, 
whose  whole  life  was  devoted  to  these  controversies.  In  liis 
statistical  writings  {Detail  dc  la  France  sous  U  rigne  present,  1697 ; 
Factum  dc  la  France,  1707)  ho  brings  out  in  gloomy  colours  tlie 
dark  side  of  the  age  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  in  his  theoretic  works 
(Traill  de  la  natU7-c  ct  i!u  commerce  des  gravis  ;  Dissertations  sur  la 
■nature  des  richesscsde  V argent  et  destributs  ;  and  Essai  sur  la  rarete 
de  I'argent)  lie  appears  as  an  earnest,  even  passionate,  antagonist  of 
the  mercantile  school.  He  insists  again  and  again  on  the  lact  tliat 
national  wealth  does  not  consist  in  gold  and  silver,  but  in  useful 
things,  foremost  among  which  are  the  products  of  agriculture.  He 
even  goes  so  far  as  to  speak  of  "argent  criminel,"  which  from 
being  the  slave  of  trade,  as  it  ought  to  be,  had  become  its  tyrant. 
He  sets  the  "genuinely  French  Sully"  far  above  the  "Italianizing 
Colbert,"  and  condemns  all  arbitrary  regulations  aflTucting  either 
foreign  or  internal  commerce,  especially  as  regards  the  corn  trade. 
National  wealtli  does  not  depend  on  Governments,  whose  inter- 
ference docs  more  harm  than  pood  ;  the  natural  laws  of  the  economic 
order  of  things  cannot  bo  violated  or  neglected  with  impunity  ;  the 
interests  of  the  sevenil  classes  of  society  in  a  system  of  freedom  are 
identical,  and  tliose  of  individuals  coincide  with  that  of  the  state. 
A  similar  solidarity  exists  between  different  nations;  in  their  eco- 
nomic dealings  they  arc  related  to  the  world  as  individual  towns  to 
a  nation,  and  not  merely  plenty,  but  peace  and  harmonj-,  will  result 
from  tlieir  unfettered  intercourse.  Men  he  divides  into  two  classes 
—those  who  do  nothing  and  enjoy  everything,  and  those  who  labour 
from  morning  to  night  often  without  earning  a  bare  subsistence; 
the  latter  ho  would  favour  in  every  way.  Here  we  catch  the  breath 
of  popular  sympathy  which  fills  the  social  atmosphere  of  the  18th 
century.  Ho  dwells  with  special  emphasis  on  tho  claims  of 
agriculture,  which  had  in  Franco  fallen  into  unmerited  neglect, 
and  with  a  view  to  its  improvement  calls  for  a  reform  in  taxation. 
He  would  replace  indirect  taxes  by  taxes  on  income,  and  would 


restore  the  payment  of  taxes  in  kind,  with  the  object  of  securing 
ciiuality  of  burden  and  eliminating  every  element  of  tho  arbitrary. 
Ho  has   some  interesting  views  of  a  general  character :    thus  ho 


approxiniates  to  a  correct  conception  of  agricultural  rent ;  and  ho 
points  to  the  order  in  which  Iniman  wants  follow  each  other, — those 
of  necessity,  couvenience,  comfort,  superfluity,  and  ostentation  suc- 
ceeding in  tho  order  named,  and  ceasing  in  tlio  inverse  order  to 
be  felt  as  wealth  decreases.  Tho  doprecinting  tone  in  which 
Voltaire  speaks  of  Boisguillebert  (Siich  de  Louis  XIV.,  chap.  30)  is 
certainly  not  justified;  ho  had  a  great  economic  talent,  and  his 
writings  cont-iin  important  germs  of  truth.  But  ho  appears  to 
liavo  exerted  little  influence,  theoretical  or  practical,  in  Lis  own 
time. 

The  samo  general  line  of  thought  was  followed  by  the  illustrious 
^auhanin  his  economic  tracts,  especially  that  bearing  tho  title  of 
Trojet  d'unc  di.one  Roijalc,  1707.  He  is  deeply  impressed  with  tho 
deplorable  condition  of  the  working  clas.ses  of  Krnnco  in  his  day. 
iHo  urges  that  the  aim  of  the  Government  should  bo  the  welfare  of 
♦11  orders  of  tho  community  :  that  all  are  cntitLv!  to  like  favour 


and  furtherance  ;  that  the  often  despised  and  wronged  lower  class 
is  the  basis  of  the  social  organization  ;  that  labour  is  the  foundation 
of  all  wealth,  and  agriculture  the  most  important  species  of  labour; 
that  the  most  essential  condition  of  successful  industry  is  freedom  ; 
and  that  all  unnecessary  or  excessive  restrictions  on  manufactures 
and  commerce  should  be  swept  away.  He  protests  in  particular 
against  the  inequalities  of  taxation,  and  the  exemptions  and 
privileges  enjoyed  by  the  higher  ranks.  With  the  exccplion  of 
some  duties  on  consumption  he  would  abolish  all  the  existing  taxes, 
and  substitute  for  them  a  single  tax  on  income  and  land,  imparti- 
ally applied  to  all  classes,  which  he  describes  under  the  name  of 
"  Dixme  Hoyale,"  that  is  to  say,  a  tenth  in  kind  of  all  agricultural 
produce,  and  a  tenth  of  money  income  chargeable  ou  nianulaclurers 
and  traders. 

The  liberal  and  humane  spirit  of  Fcnelon  led  him  to  aspire  after 
freedom  of  commerce  with  foreign  nations,  and  to  preach  the  doc- 
trine that  the  true  superiority  of  one  state  over  another  lies  in  the 
number  indeed,  but  also  in  the  morality,  intelligence,  and  indus- 
trious habits  of  its  population.  The  Telimaquc,  in  which  these 
views  were  presented  in  an  attractive  form,  was  welcomed  and  read 
amongst  all  ranks  and  classes,  and  was  thus  an  effective  organ  for 
the  propagation  of  opinion. 

After  these  writers  there  is  a  marked  blank  in  the  field  of  French 
economic  thought,  broken  only  by  the  inflexions  Politiques  snr  Ics 
Finances  et  le  Commerce  (1738)  of  Dutot,  a  pupil  of  Law,  and  the 
semi-mercantilist  Essais  Politiques  sur  le  Commerce  (1731)  of  Melon, 
till  we  come  to  the  great  name  of  Jlontesquieu.  The  Esprit  des  Montci- 
Lois,  so  far  as  it  deals  with  economic  subjects,  is  written  upon  quiea. 
the  whole  from  a  point  of  view  adverse  to  the  mercantile  system, 
especially  in  his  treatment  of  money,  though  in  his  observalions 
on  colonies  and  elsewhere  he  falls  in  with  the  ideas  of  that  system. 
His  immortal  service,  however,  was  not  rendered  by  any  special 
research,  but  by  his  enforcement  of  the  doctrine  of  natural  laws 
regulating  social  no  less  than  physical  phenomena.  There  is  no 
other  thinker  of  importance  on  economic  subjects  in  France  till 
the  appearance  of  the  physiocrats,  which  marks  an  epoch  in  the 
history  of  the  science. 

The   heads   of  the   physiocratic   .school  were  Francois  Physicy 
Quesnay  (1694-1774)  and  Jean  Claude  Marie  Vincent,  "an. 
sieur  de  Gournay  (1712-1759).     The  principles  of  tiie 
school   had  been   put  forward  in  1755  by  Cantillon,   a 
French  merchant  of  Irish  extraction  (Essai  sur  la  nature 
du    Commerce   en  general),  whose   biography  Jevons  has 
elucidated,  and  whom  he  regards  as  the  true  founder  of 
political  economy;  but  it  was  in  tho  hands  of  Quesnay  and 
Gournay  that  they  acquired  a  systematic  form,  and  became 
the  creed  of  a  united  group  of  thinkers  and  [iractical  men, 
bent  on  carrying  them  into  action.     The  members  of  the 
group  called  themselves  "les  dconomistes,"  but  it  is  more 
convenient,  because  unambiguous,  to  designate  them  by 
the  name  "  physiocrates,"  invented  by  Dupontdo  Nemours, 
who  was  one  of  their  number.     In  this  name,  intended  to 
express  the  fundamental  idea  of  the  school,  much  more  is 
implied   than    the   subjection  of  the   phenomena  of  the 
social,  and  in  particular  tho  economic,  world  to  fi.xed  rela- 
tions of  coexistence  and  succession.     This  is  the  positive 
doctrine  which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  all  true  science.     But 
the  law  of  nature  referred  to  in  the  title  of  the  sect  was 
something  quite  different.     Tho  theological  dogma  which 
represented  all  the  movements  of  tho  universe  as  directed 
by  divine  wisdom  and  benevolence  to  tho  production  of 
tho  greatest  possible  sum  of  happiness  had  been  trans- 
formed in  the  hands  of  tho  metaphysicians  into  tho  con- 
ception of  a  jus  naturx,  a  harmonious  and  beneficial  code 
established    by   the   favourite   entity  of   these   thinkers, 
Nature,  antecedent  to  human  institution.s,  and  furnishing 
the  model  to  which   they  should    bo   made  to  conform. 
This  idea,  which  Buckle  apparently  supposes  to  have  been 
an   invention    of    Hutcheson's,   had   como  down    through 
Roman  juridical  theory  from  tho  speculations  of  Greece. 
It  was  taken  in  hand  by  the  modern  negative  school  from 
Hobbes  to  Rou.s8eau,  and  used  as  a  powerful  weapon  of 
assault  upon  the  existing  order  of  society,  with  which  the 
"  natural  "  order  was  perpetually  contrasted  ns  offering  the 
perfect  type  from   which  fact  had  deplorably  diverged. 
The   theory   received   different   n|iplications   according   to 
the  iiv^rsity  of  minds  or  circumstances.     By  some  it  was 


360 


POLITICAL      ECONOMI 


directed  against  the  artificial  manners  of  the  times,  by 
others  against  contemporary  political  institutions ;  it  was 
specially  employed  by  the  physiocrats  in  criticizing  the 
economic  practice  of  European  Governments. 

The  general  political  doctrine  is  as  follows.  Society  is 
composed  of  a  number  of  individuals  all  having  the  same 
natural  rights.  If  all  do  not  possess  (as  some  members  of 
the  negative  school  maintained)  equal  capacities,  each  can 
ab  least  best  understand  his  own  interest,  and  is  led  by 
nature  to  follow  it.  The  social  union  is  really  a  contract 
tetween  these  individuals,  the  object  of  which  is  the 
limitation  of  the  natural  freedom  of  each,  just  so  far  as  it 
is  inconsistent  with  the  rights  of  the  others.  Govern- 
ment, though  necessary,  is  a  necessary  evil ;  and  the 
governing  power  appointed  by  consent  should  be  limited 
to  the  amount  of  interference  absolutely  required  to  secure 
the  fulfilment  of  the  contract.  In  the  economic  sphere, 
this  implies  the  right  of  the  individual  to  such  natural 
enjoyments  as  he  can  acquire  by  his  labour.  That  labour, 
therefore,  should  be  undisturbed  and  unfettered;  and  its 
fruits  should  be  guaranteed  to  the  possessor ;  in  other 
words,  property  should  be  sacred.  Each  citizen  must  be 
allowed  to  make  the  most  of  his  labour  ;  and  therefore 
freedom  of  exchange  should  be  ensured,  and  competition 
in  the  market  should  be  unrestricted,  no  monopolies  or 
privileges  being  permitted  to  exist. 

The  physiocrats  then  proceed  with  the  economic  analysis 
as  follows.  Only  those  labours  are  truly  "  productive " 
■which  add  to  the  quantity  of  raw  materials  avaUable  for 
the  purposes  of  man ;  and  the  real  annual  addition  to  the 
■wealth  of  the  community  consists  of  the  excess  of  the 
mass  of  agricultural  products  (including,  of  course,  metals) 
over  their  cost  of  production.  On  the  amount  of  this 
"  produit  net "  depends  the  wellbeing  of  the  community, 
and  the  possibility  of  its  advance  in  civilization.  The 
manufacturer  merely  gives  a  new  form  to  the  materials 
extracted  from  the  earth  ;  the  higher  value  of  the  object, 
after  it  has  passed  through  his  hands,  only  represents  the 
quantity  of  provisions  and  other  materials  used  and  con- 
sumed in  its  elaboration.  Commerce  does  nothing  more 
than  transfer  the  wealth  already  existing  from  one  hand 
to  another ;  what  the  trading  classes  gain  thereby  is 
acquired  at  the  cost  of  the  nation,  and  it  is  desirable  that 
its  amount  should  be  as  small  as  possible.  The  occupa- 
tions of  the  manufacturer  and  merchant,  as  well  as  the 
liberal  professions,  and  every  kind  of  personal  service,  are 
"  useful "  indeed,  but  they  are  "sterile,"  drawing  their 
income,  not  from  any  fund  which  they  themselves  create, 
but  from  the  superfluous  earnings  of  the  agriculturist. 
Perfect  freedom  of  trade  not  only  rests,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  on  the  foundation  of  natural  right,  but  is  also  recom- 
mended by  the  consideration  that  it  makes  the  "  produit 
net,"  on  which  all  wealth  and  general  progress  depend,  as 
large  as  ])Ossible.  "  Laissez  faire,  laissez  passer  "  should 
therefore  be  the  motto  of  Governments.  The  revenue  of 
the  state,  which  must  be  derived  altogether  from  this  net 
product,  ought  to  be  raised  in  the  most  direct  and  simplest 
way, — namely,  by  a  single  impost  of  the  nature  of  a  land 
tax. 

The  special  floctrine  relating  to  the  exclusive  produc- 
tiveness of  agriculture  arose  out  of  a  confusion  between 
"  value  "  on  the  one  hand  and  "  matter  and  energy  "  on 
the  other.  Smith  and  others  have  shown  that  the  attempt 
to  fix  the  character  of  "  sterility "  on  manufactures  and 
commerce  was  founded  in  error.  And  the  proposal  of  a 
single  tmpbt  territorial  falls  to  the  ground  with  the  doctrine 
on  which  it  was  based.  But  such  influence  as  the  school 
eaerted  depended  little,  if  at  all,  on  these  peculiar  tenets, 
■which  indeed  some  of  its  members  did  not  hold.  The 
effective  result  of  its  teaching  was  mainly  destructive.     It 


continued  in  a  more  systematic  form  the  efforts  in  favour 
of  the  freedom  of  industry  already  begun  in  England  and 
France.  The  essential  historical  office  of  the  physiocrats 
was  to  discredit  radically  the  methods  followed  by  the 
European  Governments  in  their  dealings  with  industry. 
For  such  criticism  as  theirs  there  was,  indeed,  ample 
room  :  the  policy  of  Colbert,  which  could  be  only  tempor- 
arily useful,  had  been  abusively  extended  and  intensified ; 
Governmental  action  had  intruded  itself  into  the  minutest 
details  of  business,  and  every  process  of  manufacture  and 
transaction  of  trade  was  hampered  by  legislative  restric- 
tions. It  .was  to  be  expected  that  the  reformers  should, 
in  the  spirit  of  the  negative  philosophy,  exaggerate  the 
vices  of  established  systems ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  they  condemned  too  absolutely  the  economic  action  of 
the  state,  both  in  principle  and  in  its  historic  manifesta- 
tions, and  pushed  the  "  laissez  faire "  doctrine  beyond 
its  just  limits.  But  this  was  a  necessary  incident  of  their 
connexion  ■with  the  revolutionary  movement,  of  ■which 
they  really  formed  one  wing.  In  the  course  of  that 
movement,  the  primitive  social  contract,  the  sovereignty 
of  the  people,  and  other  dogmas  now  seen  to  be  untenable 
were  habitually  invoked  in  the  region  of  politics  proper, 
and  had  a  transitory  utility  as  ready  and  effective  instru- 
ments of  warfare.  And  so  also  in  the  economic  sphere 
the  doctrines  of  natural  rights  of  buying  and  selling,  of 
the  sufficiency  of  enlightened  selfishness  as  a  guide  in 
mutual  dealings,  of  the  certainty  that  each  member  of  the 
society  will  understand  and  follow  his  true  interests,  and 
of  the  coincidence  of  those  interests  with  the  public 
welfare,  though  they  will  not  bear  a  dispassionate 
examination,  were  temporarily  useful  as  convenient  and 
serviceable  weapons  for  the  overthrow  of  the  established 
order.  The  tendency  of  the  school  was  undoubtedly  to 
consecrate  the  spirit  of  individualism,  and  the  state  of 
non-government.  But  this  tendency,  which  may  with 
justice  be  severely  condemned  in  economists  of  the  present 
time,  was  then  excusable  because  inevitable.  And,  whilst 
it  now  impedes  the  work  of  reconstruction  which  is  for  us 
the  order  of  the  day,  it  then  aided  the  process  of  social 
demolition,  which  was  the  necessary,  though  deplorable, 
condition  of  a  new  organization. 

These  conclusions  as  to  the  revolutionary  tendencies  of 
the  school  are  not  at  all  affected  by  the  fact  that  the  form 
of  government  preferred  by  Quesnay  and  some  of  his  chief 
followers  was  what  they  called  a  legal  despotism,  which 
should  embrace  within  itself  both  the  legislative  and  the 
executive  -  funetion.  The  reason  for  this  preference  was 
that  an  enlightened  central  power  could  more  pronijitly 
and  efficaciously  introduce  the  policy  they  advocated  than 
an  assembly  representing  divergent  opinions,  and  fettered 
by  constitutional  checks  and  limitations.  Turgot,  as  we 
know,  used  the  absolute  power  of  the  crown  to  carry  into 
effect  some  of  his  measures  for  the  liberation  of  industry, 
though  he  ultimately  failed  because  unsustained  by  the 
requisite  force  of  character  in  Louis  XVI.  But  what  the 
physiocratic  idea  with  respect  to  the  normal  method  of  i 
government  was  appears  from  Quesnay's  advice  to  the 
dauphin,  that  when  he  became  king  he  should  "do  nothing, 
but  let  the  laws  rule,"  the  laws  having  been  of  course 
first  brought  into  conformity  with  the  jus  naiura.  The 
partiality  of  the  school  for  agriculture  ■was  in  harmony 
with  the  sentiment  in  favour  of  "nature"  and  primitive 
simplicity  which  then  showed  itself  in  so  many  forms  in 
France,  especially  in  combination  with  the  revolutionary 
spirit,  and  of  which  Kousseau  was  the  most  elo(|U(;ut 
exponent.  It  was  also  associated  in  these  writcis  with  a 
just  indignation  at  the  wretched  state  in  which  the^  rural 
labourers  of  France  had  been  left  by  the  scandalous  neglect 
of  tliR   superior   orders   of  society — a  state  of  whirJi  tbo 


POLITICAL     ECONOIMY 


3G1 


terrible  picture  drawn  by  La  Bruyere  is  an  indestructible 
record.  ■  The  members  of  the  physiocratic  group  were 
undoubtedly  men  of  thorough  uprightness,  and  inspired 
with  a  sincere  desire  for  the  public  good,  especially  for 
the  material  and  moral  elevation  of  the  working  classes. 
Quesnay  was  physician  to  Louis  XV.,  and  resided  in  the 
palace  at  Versailles ;  but  in  the  midst  of  that  corrupt 
court  he  maintained  his  integrity,  and  spoke  with  manly 
frankness  what  he  believed  to  be  the  truth.  And  never 
did  any  statesman  devote  himself  with  greater  singleness 
of  purpose  or  more  earnest  endeavour  to  the  service  of  his 
^country  than  Turgot,  who  was  the  principal  practical 
representative  of  the  school. 

I  The  publications  in  which  Quesnay  expounded  his  system  were 
the  following: — two  articles,  on  "  Fermiers"  and  on  "Grains,"  in  tho 
jEncydopt'die  of  Diderot  and  D'Alembcrt  (1756,  1757)  ;  a  discourse 
on  the  law  of  nature  in  the  Physiocratic  of  Dujjont  de  Nemours 
(1768);  Jlfaximes  geniralcs  de  gouvernement  eamomiqnc  d'uii 
royaume  aynt-o/e "(1758),' and  the  simultaneously  published  Tableau 
£conomique  avec  son  explication,  on  Extrait  des  Economics  Royalcs 
de  Sully  (with  the  celebrated  motto  "  pauvres  paysans,  pauvre 
royaume ;  pauvre  royaume,  pauvre  roi  ") ;  Dialogue  sur  Ic  coininirce 
et  les  travaux  des  artisans  ;  and  otlier  minor  pieces.  The  Tableau 
£conomiquc,  though  on  account  of  its  dryness  and  abstract  form  it 
met  with  little  general  favour,  may  be  considered  the  principal 
manifesto  of  the  school.  It  was  regarded  by  the  followers  of 
Quesnay  as  entitled  to  a  place  amongst  the  foremost  products  of 
human  wisdom,  and  is  named  by  the  elder  Mirabeau,  in  a  passage 
quoted  by  Adam  Smith,  as  one  of  the  three  great  inventiohs  which 
liave  contributed  most  to  the  stability  of  political  societies,  the 
other  two  being  those  of  writing  and  of  money.  Its  object  was  to 
exhibit  by  means  of  certain  formulas  the  way  iii  which  the  products 
of  agriculture,  which  is  the  only  source  of  wealth,  would  in  a  state 
of  perfect  liberty  be  distributed  among  the  several  classes  of  the 
community  (namely,  the  productive  classes  of  tho  proprietors  and 
cultivators  of  land,  and  the  unproductive  class  composed  of  manu- 
facturers and  merchants),  and  to  represent  by  other  formulas  the 
.  modes  of  distribution  wliich  take  place  under  systems  of  Goveru- 
mental  restraint  and  rcL'ulation,  with  the  evil  results  arising  to 
the  whole  society  from  ililferent  degrees  of  such  violation^  of  the 
natural  order.  It  follows  from  Quesnay's  theoretic  views  that  the 
oire  thing  deserving  the  solicitude  of  the  practical  economist  and 
the  statesman  is  the  increase  of  the  net  product ;  and  he  infers 
also  what  Smith  afterwards  affirmed  on  not  quite  the  same  ground, 
that  the  interest  of  the  landowner  is  "strictly  and  indissolubly 
connected  with  the  general  interest  of  the  society." 
\  Jean  V.  Gournay,  ns  we  have  seen,  was  regarded  as  one  of 
the  founders  of  the  school,  and  appears  to  have  exercised  some 
influence  even  upon  the  formation  of  Quesnay's  own  opinions. 
With  the  exception  of  a  translation  of  Sir  Josiali  Child,  Gournay 
wrote  nothing  but  memoirs  addressed  to  ministers,  which  have 
not  seen  the  light ;  but  we  have  a  full  statement  of  Iiis  views 
in  tho  £loge  dedicated  to  his  memory  by  his  illustrious  friend 
Turgot.  Whilst  Quesnay  had  spent  his  youth  amidst  rural  scenes, 
and  had  been  early  familiar  with  tlie  labours  of  the  field,  Gournay 
had  been  bred  as  a  merchant,  and  had  passed  from  the  counting- 
house  to  the  office  of  intendant  of  commerce.  They  thus  ap]iroaclied 
the  study  of  political  economy  from  different  sides,  and  this 
diversity  of  their  antecedents  may  in  part  explain  the  amount  of 
divergence  which  existed  between  their  views.  Gournay  softened  the 
rigour  of  Quesnay's  system,  and  brought  it  nearer  to  the  truth,  by 
rejecting  what  Smith  calls  its  "capital  error"— the  doctrine, namely, 
of  the  unproductiveness  of  manufactures  and  commerce,  lie 
directed  his  cfTorts  to  the  assertion  and  vindication  of  the  principle 
of  industrial  liberty,  and  it  was  by  him  that  this  princij)le  was 
formulated  in  the  jmrasc,  since  so  often  heard  for  good  and  lor  evil, 
_^"Laisse7.  faire,  laisscz  passer."  One  of  the  earliest  and  most  com- 
plete adherents  of  tho  physiocratic  school,  as  well  as  an  ardent  and 
unwearied  propagator  of  its  doctrines,  was  Victor  Miraboau,  whose 
sincere  and  independent,  though  somewhat  perverse  and  whimsical, 
•character  is  familiar  to  Knglish  readers  through  Carlyle's  essay  on 
his  more  celebrated  son.  He  had  expressed  some  physiocratic  views 
earlier  than  Quesnay,  but  owned  the  latter  for  his  spiritual  father, 
and  adopted  most  of  his  opinions,  the  principal  dilVerence  being 
that  he  was  favourable  to  tho  petite  as  ojipo-scd  to  the  grandc  culture, 
which  latter  was  preferred  by  his  chief  as  giving,  not  indeed  tho 
largest  gros  ,  but  the  largest  net  product.  Mirabeau's  jirincipal 
writing's  were  ^mi  des  llommes,  ou  trailf  sur  la  population  (1756, 
1760),  Thiorie  de  I'imjM  (17G0),  Les  £conomiques  (1709),  and 
Pliilosophie  rurale,  ou  Kcononiic  generaU  et  politique  de  V  A<jrieulture 
(1763).  The  last  of  these  was  tlic  earliest  complete  exposition  of 
the  jdiysiocratie  system.  Another  earnest  and  |>crseveriiig  a|iostlo 
of  tlio  svstcm  was  Dupout  dc  Nemours  (1739-1817),  known  by  his 


treatises  De  Vexportation  el  de  I'iynporlnlion  des  grains  (1764),  Dc 
Vorigine  et  des  progres  d'ime  science  nouvclle  (1767),  Du  commerce 
de  la  Compagnie  des  Indes  (1767),  and  especially  by  liis  more  com- 
prehensive work  Physiocratic,  on,  Constitution  nnturellcdu  ijourenie- 
ment  Ic  plus  avantageux' au  genre  humain  (1768).  The  title  of 
this  work  gave,  as  has  been  already  mentioned,  a  n;imc  to  the  sdiooL 
Another  formal  exposition  of  the  system,  to  which  Adam  Smith 
refers  as  "the  most  distinct  and  best  connected  account"  of  it,  was 
produced  by  Mercier-Lariviere,  under  the  title  L'Ordrc  nature!  et 
esscnticl  des  societes  politiqucs  (1767),  a  title  which  is  interesting  as 
embodying  the  idea  of  the  jus  naltirse.  Both  he  and  Du))onl  do 
Nemours  professed  to  study  human  communities,  not  only  in  rela- 
tion to  their  economic,  but  also  to  their  ]iolitical  anil  general 
social  aspects  ;  but,  notwithstanding  these  larger  pretensions,  their 
views  were  commonly  restricted  in  the  main  to  the  economic  sphere  ; 
4t  least  material  considerations  decidedly  prepondcr.Tlcd  in  their 
inquiries,  as  was  naively  indicated  by  Larivierc  when  he  said, 
" Property,  security,  liberty— these  com|uise  the  whole  social  ordor ; 
the  right  of  property  is  a  tree  of  which  all  the  institutions  of 
society  are  branches." 

The  most  eminent  member  of  the  group  was  without  doubt  Anna 
Robert  Jacques  Turgot  (1727-1781).  This  is  not  the  jilace  to  speak 
of  his  noble  practical  activity,  first  as  rntemlant  of  Limoges,  ami 
afterwards  for  a  brief  period  as  finance  minister,  or  of  the  eircuni- 
stances  which  led  to  uis  remov.Tl  from  ollice,  and  the  consequent 
failure  of  his  efforts  for  the  salvation  of  Fiance.  His  economic 
views  are  explained  in  tho  introductions  to  his  edicts  and  oidi- 
nances,  in  letters  and  occasional  papers,  but  especially  in  his 
Rfflcxions  svr  la  formation  et  la  distribution  des  riclicsses  (1766). 
This  is  a  condensed  but  eminently  clear  and  attractive  exposition 
of  the  fundamental  princi]>lcs  of  political  economy,  ns  they  were 
conceived  by  the  physiocrats.  It  embodies,  indeed,  the  eironcous 
no  less  than  the  sound  doctrines  of  that  school ;  but  several  sub- 
jects, especially  the  various  forms  of  land-economy,  the  dillVrent 
employments  of  capital,  and  the  legitimacy  of  interest,  are  handleil 
in  a  generally  just  as  well  as  striking  manner ;  and  the  moile  of 
presentation  of  the  ideas,  and  the  luminous  arrangement  of  tho 
whole,  are  Turgot's  own.  The  treatise,  which  contains  a  surprising 
amount  of  matter  in  proportion  to  its  length,  must  always  retain  a. 
jjlace  among  the  classics  of  the  science. 

The  physiocratic  school  never  obtained  much  direct 
popular  influence,  even  in  its  native  country,  though  it 
strongly  attracted  many  of  the  more  gifted  and  earnest 
mindn.  Its  members,  writing  on  dry  subjects .  in  an 
austere  and  often  heavy  style,  did  not  find  acceptance  with 
a  public  which  demanded  before  all  things  charm  of 
manner  in  those  who  addressed  it.  When  Morellet,  ono 
of  their  number,  entered  the  lists  with  (Jaliani,  it  waa 
seen  how  exprit  and  eloquence  could  triumph  over  science, 
sol-id  indeed,  but  clumsy  in  its  movements.  The  physio- 
cratic tenets,  which  were  in  fact  partially  erroneous,  were 
regarded  by  many  as  chimerical,  and  were  ridiculed  in 
the  contemporary  literature,  as,  for  cxamjile,  the  ini/iOl 
unique  by  Voltaire  in  his  L'homme  aiij:_  ijtiarante  ecus, 
which  was  directed  in  particular  against  Mercier-Lariviere.' 
It  was  justly  objected  to  the  groui)  that  tliey  were  too 
absolute  in  their  view  of  things  ;  they  sujipo.sed,  as  Smith 
remarks  in  speaking  of  Quesnay,  that  the  body  iiolitic 
could  thrive  only  under  one  iirecise  regime, — that,  namely, 
which  they  recommended, — and  thought  their  doctrines 
universally  and  immediately  applicable  in  practice.  They 
did  not,  as  theorists,  sufliciently  take  into  account  national 
diversities,  or  different  stages  in  social  dcveloimient ;  nor 
did  they,  as  politicians,  adequately  estimate  tho  imiiedi- 
ments  which  ignorance,  j)rejudice,  and  interested  opposi- 
tion present  to  enlightened  statesmanship.  It  is  possible 
that  Turgot  himself,  as  Cirimm  suggests,  owed  his  fniluro 
in  ]iart  to  tho  too  unbending  rigour  of  his  policy  and  tho 
aU-scnce  of  any  ntteni|it  at  conciliation.  He  this  as  it  may, 
his  defeat  helped  to  impair  the  credit  of  his  principJe-s 
which  were  represented  as  having  been  tried  and  found 
wanting. 

Tho  physiocratic  .system,  alter  guiding  in  some  degrv.» 
the  policy  of  the  Constituent  Assembly,  and  awakening  a 
few  echoes  here  and  there  in  foreign  countries,  soon  cea.->eT) 
to  exist  as  a  living  power  ;  but  the  good  elements  it  com- 
prised were  not  lost  to  mankind,  bcins  incorporated  int* 

XL\.  —  46 


362 


POLITICAL     ECONOJMY 


the   sounder  and  more   complete    construction  of  Adam 
Smith. 

Italy. — In  Italy,  as  in  the  other  European  nations,  there 
was  little  activity  in  the  economic  field  during  the  first 
half  of  the  18th  century.  It  was  then,  however,  that  a 
really  remarkable  man  appeared,  the  archdeacon  Salustio 
Antonio  Bandiiji  (1677-1760),  author  of  the  Discorso 
sidla  Jfaremma  Sienese,  written  in  1737,  but  not  published 
till  1775.  The  object  of  the  work  was  to  raise  the  Maremma 
from  the  wretched  condition  into  which  it  had  fallen  through 
the  decay  of  agriculture.  This  decay  he  showed  to  be,  at 
least  in  part,  the  result  of  the  wretched  fiscal  system 
which  was  in  force ;  and  his  book  led  to  important  reforms 
in  Tuscany,  where  his  name  is  held  in  high  honour.  Not 
only  by  Pecchio  and  other  Italian  writers,  but  by  Roscher 
also,  he  is  alleged  to  have  anticipated  some  leading  doc- 
trines .of  the  physiocrats,  but  this  claim  is  disputed.  There 
was  a  remarkable  renascence  of  economic  studies  in  Italy 
during  the  latter  half  of  the  century,,  partly  due  to  F.rench 
influence,  and  partly,  it  would  appear,  to  improved  govern- 
ment in  the  northern  states. 

The  movement  at  first  followed  the  lines  of  the  mercantile  school. 
Thus,  in  Antonio  Broggia's  Tratlati  dei  trihuti  e  ddh  vwnetc  e  del 
govemo  politico  della  societd  (1743),  and  Girolamo  Belloni's  Sis- 
sertuzione  sopra  il  commcrcio  (1750),  which  seems  to  have  had  a 
success  and  reputation  much  above  its  merits,  mercantilist  tendencies 

Genovesi.  decidedly  preponderate.  But  the  most  distinguished  writer  who  re- 
presented that  economic  doctrine  in  Italy  in  the  last  century  was 
Antonio  Genovesi,  a  Neapolitan  (1712-1769).  He  felt  deeply  the 
depressed  intellectual  and  moral  state  of  his  fellow-countrymen,  and 
aspired  after  a  revival  of  philo.sophy  and  reform  of  education  as  the 
first  condition  of  progress  and  wellbeing.  With  the  object  of  iM'otcct- 
ing  him  from  the  theological  persecutions  which  threatened  him 
on  account  of  his  advanced  opinions,  Bartolomeo  Intieri,  of  whom 
we  shall  hear  again  in  relation  to  Galiani,  founded  in  1755,  ex- 
jiressly  for  Genovesi,  a  chair  of  commerce  and  mechanics,  one  of  the 
conditions  of  foundation  being  that  it  should  never  be  iilled  by  a 
monk.  This  was  the  first  professorship  of  economics  established 
in  Europe  ;  the  sacond  was  founded  at  Stockholm  in  175S,  and  the 
tliird  in  Lombardy  ten  years  later,  for  Beccaria.  The  fruit  of  the 
labours  of  Genovesi  in  this  chair  was  his  Lczioiii  di  coynmercio,  ossia 
di  economin  civile  (1769),  which  contained  the  first  systematic 
treatment  of  the  whole  subject  which  had  appeared  in  Italy.  As 
the  model  for  Italian  imitation  he  held  up  England,  a  country  for 
which,  says  Pcccliio,  he  had  a  predilection  almost  amounting  to 
fanaticism.  He  does  not  rise  above  the  false  economic  system 
which  Englanil  then  pursued  ;  but  he  rejects  some  of  the  grosser 
errors  of  the  school  to  which  he  belonged  ;  he  advocates  the  freedom 
of  the  corn  trade,  and   deprecates   regulation  of  the  interest  on 

'  loans.     In  the  spirit  of  his  age,  he  denounces  the  relics  of  mediieval 

institutions,  such  as  cnt.uls  and  tenures  in  mortmain,  as  impedi- 
ments to  the  national  prosperity.  Ferdinando  Galiani  was  another 
distinguished  disciple  of  the  mercantile  schooh  Before  lie  had  com- 
pleted his  twenty-first  year  ho  published  a  work  on  money  {Delia 
moneta  lihn  cinque,  1750),  the  principles  of  which  are  supposed  to 
have  been  dictated  by  two  experienced  practical  men, -the  marquis 
Rinuccini  and  Bartolomeo  Intieri,  whose  name  we  have  already 
met.  But  his  reputation  was  made  by  a  book  written  in  French 
and  published  in  Paris,  where  he  was  secretary  of  embassy,  in  1770, 
namely,  his  Dialogues  sur  le  commerce  des  bles.  This  work,  by  its 
light  and  pleasing  style,  and  the  vivacious  wit  with  which  it 
abounded,  delighted  Voltaire,  who  spoke  of  it  as  a  book  in  the  pro- 
duction of  which  Plato  and  Moliere  might  have  been  combined  ! 
The  author,  says  Pecchio,  treated  his  arid  subject  as  Fontenelle  did 
the  vortices  of  Descartes,  or  Algarotti  the  Newtonian  system  of  the 
world.  The  question  at  issue  was  that  of  the  freedom  of  the  corn 
trade,  then  much  agitated,  and,  in  particular,  the  policy  of  the  royal 
edict  of  1764,  wiiich  permitted  the  exportation  of  grain  so  long  as 
the  price  had  not  arrived  at  a  certain  height.  The  general  principle 
he  maintains  is  that  the  best  system  in  regard  to  this  trade  is  to 
have  no  system, — countries  dilTerently  circumstanced  requiring,  ac- 
cording to  him,  different  modes  of  treatment.  This  seems  a  lame 
and  impotent  conclusion  from  the  side  of  science  ;  yet  doubtless 
the  physiocrats,  with  whom  his  controversy  lay,  prescribed  on  this, 
as  on  other  subjects,  rules  too  rigid  for  the  safe  guidance  of  statesmen, 
and  Galiani  may  have  rendered  a  real  sen'ice  by  protesting  against 
their  absolute  solutions  of  practical  problems.  He  fell,  liowever, 
^nto  some  of  the  most  serious  errors  of  the  mercantilists, — holding, 
as  inaeed  did  also  Voltaire  and  even  Verri,  that  one  country  cannot 
gain  without  another  losing,  and  in  his  earlier  treatise  going  so 
far  as  to  defend  the  action  of  Governments  in  dpbasing  the  nurrencv. 
Amongst  the  Italian  economists  who  were  most  under  the  iuilu- 


ence  of  the  modern  spirit,  and  in  closest  harmony  with  the  general 
movement  which  was  impelling  the  Western  nations  towards  a  new 
social  order,  Cesare  Becearia  (1738-]7;i4)  Iiohls  a  foremost  plaoe. 
He  is  best  known  by  his  celebrated  treatise  Dei  dcliUi  e  dclle  pene, 
by  which  Voltaire  said  he  had  made  himself  a  benefactor  of  all 
Europe,  and  which,  we  are  told,  has  been  translated  in'to  twenty-two 
languages.  The  empress  Catherine  having  invited  him  to  fix  his 
residence  at  St  Petersburg,  the  Austrian  Government  of  Lombardy, 
in  order  to  keep  him  at  home,  established  expressly  for  him  a  chair 
of  political  economy  ;  and  in  his  £lenicnli  di  econoinia  pubblica. 
(1769-1771  ;  not  published,  however,  till  1804)  are  embodied  his 
teachings  as  professor.  The  work  is  unfinished  :  he  had  divided 
the  whole  subject  under  the  lieads  of  agriculture,  manufactures, 
commerce,  taxation,  government ;  but  he  has  treated  adequately 
only  the  first  two  heads,  and  the  last  two  not  at  all,  having  beeii 
called  to  take  part  in  the  councils  of  the  state.  He  was  in  some 
degree  under  the  influence  of  physiocratic  ideas,  and  holds  that 
agriciiltnre  is  the  only  strictly  productive  form  of  industry,  whilst 
manufacturers  and  artisans  are  a  sterile  class.  He  was  strongly 
opposed  to  monopolies  and  privileges,  and  to  corjiorations  in  arts  and 
trades  ;  in  general  he  warmly  advocated  internal  industrial  freedoi.'i, 
though  in  regard  to  foreign  commerce  a  protectionist  In  the 
special  case  of  the  corn  trade  he  was  not,  any  more  than  Galiani,  a 
partisan  of  absolute  liberty.  His  exposition  of  economic  principles 
is  concise  and  sententious,  and  he  often  states  correctly  the  most 
important  considerations  relating  to  his  subject  without  adding  the 
developments  which  would  he  desirable  to  assist  comprehension  and 
strengthen  conviction.  Thus  on  "production  capital"  {capitali 
/ondalori),  as  distinct  from  "  revenue  caiiilal,"  in  its  aiiplication  to 
agriculture,  he  presents  in  a  condensed  form  essentially  the  same 
explanations  as  Turgot  about  the  same  time  gave  ;  and  on  the 
division  of  labour  and  the  circumstances  which  cause  different  rates 
of  wages  in  different  employments,  he  in  substance  comes  near  to 
Smith,  but  without  the  fulness  of  illustration  which  is  so  attrac- 
tive a  feature  of  the  ireallh- of  Nations.  Pietro  Verri  (1728-1797.1,  Ven* 
an  intimate  and  life-long  friend  of  Beccaria,  was  for  twentv-five 
years  one  of  the  principal  directors  of  the  administration  of  Lom- 
bardy, in  which  capacity  he  originated  many  economic  and  other 
reforms.  In  his  JUJlcssioni  sulle  lerjgi  vineolanti,  principalmente 
nel  commercio  de'  ijrani  (written  in  1769,  printed  in  1796),  he  con- 
siders the  question  of  the  regulation  of  the  corn  trade  both  histori- 
cally and  in  the  light  of  theoretic  principles,  and  arrives  at  the 
conclusion  that  liberty  is  the  best  remedy  against  famine  and 
against  excessive  fluctuations  of  price.  He  is  generally  opposed  to 
Governmental  interference  with- internal  commerce,  as  well  as  to 
trade  corporations,  and  the  attempts  to  limit  prices  or  fix  the  rate 
of  interest,  but  is  in  favour  of  the  protection  of  national  industry 
by  a  judiciously  framed  tariflT.  These  views  are  explained  in  his 
Meditazioni  su'lV  economia  polilica  (1771),  an  elementary  treatise 
on  the  science,  which  was  received  with  favour,  and  translated  into 
several  foreign  languages.  A  primary  principle  with  him  is  what  he 
calls  the  augmentation  of  reproduction — that  is,  in  Smith's  language, 
of  "  the  annual  produce  of  the  land  and  labour"  of  a  nation  ;  and 
by  its  tendency  to  promote  or  to  restrict  this  augmentation  ho  tests 
every  enactment  and  institution.  Accordingly,  unlike  Beccaria,  he 
prefers  the  petite  to  the  yrande  culture,  as  giving  a  larger  total  pro- 
duce. In  dealing  with  taxation,  he  rejects  the  physiocratic  pro- 
posal of  a  single  impot  territorial.  Giovanni  P..  Carli  (1720-17_95),  Catlt 
also  an  official  promoter  of  the  reforms  in  the  government  of  Austrian 
Lombardy,  besides  learned  and  soiind  treatises  on  money,  was 
author  of  Ragionamenii  sopta  i  bilnnci  economici  delle  nazioni,  in 
which  he  shows  the  falsity  of  the  notion  that  a  state  gains  or  loses 
in  foreign  commerce  according  to  the  so-called  balance  of  trade.  In 
his  letter  to  Pompeo  Neri  Sul  libera  commcrcio  dc'  grani  (1771),  he 
takes  up  a  position  similar  to  that  of  Galiani,  regarding  the  question 
of  the  freedom  of  the  corn  trade  as  not  so  much  a  scientific  as  an 
administrative  one,  to  be  dealt  with  differently  under  diflercnt  local 
or  other  conditions.  Rejecting  the  physiocratic  doctrine  of  the 
exclusive  productiveness  of  agiiculture,  he  illustrates  inau  interest- 
ing way  the  necessity  of  various  economic  classes  in  a  society,  and 
the  reflex  agency  of  manufactures  in  stinmlating  the  cultivation 
of  the  soil.  Giambattista  Vasco  (1733-1796)  wrote  discourses  on ' 
several  questions  proposed  by  academics  and  sovereigns.  In  these 
he  condemns  trade  corpoi-ations  and  the  attempts  by  Governments 
to  fix  the  price  of  bread  and  to  limit  the  interest  on  loans.  In 
advf/cating  the  system  of  a  peasant  proprietary,  he  suggests  that 
the  law  should  determine  the  minimum  and  maximum  portions  ot 
land  which  a  citizen  should  be  permitted  to  po.ssess.  He  also,  with 
a  view  to  prevent  the  undue  accumulation  of  property,  proposes  the 
abolition  of  the  right  of  bequest,  and  the  equal  division  of  the 
inheritance  amongst  the  childri'U  of  the  .deceased.  Gaetano; 
Filangieri  (1752-1788),  one  of  the  Italian  writei-sof  the  last  century  | 
whose  names  are  most  widely  known  throughout  Europe,  devoted 
to  economic  questions  the  se""v-l  book  of  his  S'cicnza  della  legis- 
laziune  (5  voU.,  1780-1785).  Filled  with  reforming  ardour  and  a 
passionate  patriotism,  ho  employed  his  vehement,  eloquence  in 
denouncing  all  the  abuses  of  his  time.     Appji'-utly  without  any 


i 


POLITICAL      ECONOMY 


3G3 


KiiowIeJge  of  A  Jam  Pinith,  he  insists  on  unlimitcJ  freeJoni  of  trade, 
calls  for  tlie  abolition  of  the  nicdicEval  institutions  which  impeded 
production  and  national  wellbcing,  and  condumns  the  colonial 
system  then  followed  by  England,  Spain,  and  Holland.  He  pro- 
phesies, as  Raynal  ami  Genovesi  had  done  before  him,  that  all 
America  would  one  day  be  imlependent,  a  prediction  wliicli  probably 
helped  to  elicit  Benjamin  Franklin's  tribute  of  admiration  for 
his  work.  Kather  a  propagator  than  a  discoverer,  he  sometimes 
adopted  from  others  erroneous  opinions,  as,  for  example,  when  hi) 
approves  the  impdt  unique  of  the  physiocrats.  On  the  whole,  how- 
ever, he  represents  the  most  advanced  political  and  social  tenden- 
cies of  his  age  ;  whilst  strongly  contrasted  with  Beccaria  in  tem- 
perament and  style,  he  was  a  worthy  labourer  in  the  same  cause 
of  national  and  universal  progress.  Ludovico  Ricci  (1742-1799) 
was  author  of  an  able  report  Sulla  riforma  degli  istituli  pii  della 
cittd  di  Modcna  (1787).  He  treated  the  subject  of  poor  relief  and 
charitable  institutions  in  so  general  a  way  tliat  the  work  possesses 
a  universal  and  permanent  interest.  He  dwells  on  the  evils  of 
indiscriminate  relief  as  tending  to  increase  the  misery  it  seeks  to 
remove,  and  as  lowering  the  moral  character  of  a  population.  He 
exposes  especially  the  abuses  connected  with  lying-in  and  foundling 
hospitals.  There  is  much  in  him  which  is  akin  to  the  views 
of  Malthus  ;  like  him  he  is  opposed  to  any  state  provision  for  the 
destitute,  who  ought,  he  thinks,  to  be  left  to  voluntary  private 

loktti.  beneficence.  Ferdinando  Paoletti  (1717-1801)  was  an  excellent 
and  public-spirited  priest,  who  did  much  for  the  diffusion  of 
intelligence  amongst  the  agricultural  population  of  Tuscany,  and 
for  the  lightening  of  the  taxes  which  pressed  upon  them.  He  corre- 
sponded with  Mirabeau  ("Friend  of  Men"),  and  appears  to  have 
accepted  the  physiocratic  doctrines,  at  least  in  their  general  sub- 
stance. He  was  author  of  Pcnsieri  sopra  Vagricoliura  (1769),  and 
of  I  vcri  mc:zi  di  render /dice  h  societa  (1772) ;  in  the  latter  he 
advocates  the  freedom  of  the  corn  trade.  •  The  tract  11  Colberlismo 

lOgotti.  (1791)  by  Count  Francesco  Mengotti  is  a  vigorous  protest  against 
the  extreme  policy  of  prohibition  and  protection,  which  may  still 
be  read  with  interest.  Mengotti  also  wrote  (1791)  a  treatise  Del 
commcrcio  dc'  Jiomani,  directed  mainly  against  the  exaggerations 
of  Huet  in  his  J/isloire  du  commerce  el  de  la  navigation  des  amiens 
(1716),  and  useful  as  marking  the  broad  difference  between  the 
ancient  and  modern  civilizations. 

itef  Here  lastly  may  be  mentioned  another  Italian  thinker  who, 

eminently  original  and  even  eccentric,  cannot  easily  be  classed 
among  his  contemporaries,  though  some  Continental  writers  of  our 
own  century  have  exhibited  similar  modes  of  thought.  This  was 
Giammaria  Ortes  (J713-1790).  He  is  opposed  to  the  liberalist 
tendencies  of  his  time,  but  does  not  espouse  the  doctrines  of  the 
mercantile  system,  rejecting  the  theory  of  the  balance  of  trade  and 
demanding  commercial  freedom.  It  is  in  the  Middle  Ages  that  he 
finds  his  social  and  economic  type.  He  advocates  the  maintenance 
of  church  property,  is  averse  to  the  ascendency  of  the  money  power, 
and  has  the  mcdi;»;val  di.-,like  for  interest  on  loans.  He  entertains 
the  singular  idea  that  the  wealth  of  communities  is  always  and 
everywhere  in  a  fixed  ratio  to  their  population,  the  latter  being 
detcnnineil  by  the  former.  Poverty,  therefore,  necessarily  waits 
on  wealth,  and  the  rich,  in  becoming  so,  only  gain  what  the  poor 
lose.  Those  who  are  interested  in  the  improvement  of  the  condi- 
tion of  the  people  labour  in  vain,  so  long  as  they  direct  their  efforts 
to  the  increase  of  the  sum  of  the  national  w('alth,  which  it  is 
beyond  their  rawer  to  alter,  instead  of  to  the  distribution  of  that 
wealth,  which  it  is  possible  to  modify.  The  true  remedy  for 
poverty  lies  in  mitigating  the  gain-pursuing  propensities  in  the 
rich  and  in  men  of  business.  Ortes  studied  in  a  separate  work  tho 
subject  of  population  ;  ho  formulates  its  increase  as  "geometrical," 
but  recognizes  that,  as  a  limit  is  set  to  such  increase  amongst  the 
lower  animals  by  mutual  destruction,  so  is  it  in  the  human  species 
by  "reason" — the  "prudential  restraint"  of  which  MuUhus  after- 
wards made  so  much.  Ho  regards  tlie  institution  of  celibacy  as 
no  less  necessary  and  advantageous  than  that  of  marriage.  He 
enunciates  what  has  since  been  known  as  the  "  law  of  diminishing 
returns  to  agricultural  industry."  He  was  careless  as  to  the  diffu- 
sion of  his  writings  ;  and  hence  they  remained  almost  unknown 
till  they  were  included  in  the  Custodi  collection  of  Italian  eco- 
nomists, when  they  attracted  much  attention  by  tho  combined 
sagacity  and  waywardness  which  marked  their  author's  intellectual 
character. 

Sixiin. — The  same  breath  of  a  new  era  which  was  in  the 
air  elsewhere  in  Europe  made  itself  felt  also  in  Spain. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  the  18th  century  Gerouimo  Ustariz  )iad 
written  his  Teorica  y  I'raelica  del  Comcrcio  y  Ufarina  (1724  ;  pub- 
lished, 1740;  Eug.  transl.  by  John  Kippax,  1751  ;  French  by 
Fovbonnais,  17&3),  in  which  he  carries  mercantile  principles  to 
their  utmost  extreme. 

The  reforming  spirit  of  the  latter  half  ef  the  century  was  best 
rtprcbcntcd  in  that  country  by  Pedro  Rodriguez,  count  of  Cam- 
pom.inr^  (1723-]S0'2\  He  pursued  with  ardour  tho  same  studios 
and  in  some  degree  the  same  policy  as  his  illustrious  contemporary 


Turgot,  without,  however,  having  arrived  at  so  advanced  a  point  of 
view.  He  was  author  of  ftcspiicstti  fiscal  sobre  abolir  la  tnsa  y 
Cftabkecr  el  comcrcio  dc  graiius  (1764),  l)iscH7so  sobre  el  fometilo 
de  vuluslria  popolar  {n7i),  and  Discurso  sobre  la  cducueioii  de  Ids 
arlesnnos  y  su/omcnlo  (1775).  By  means  of  these  writings,  justly 
eulogized  by  Kobertson,  as  well  as  by  his  personal  efforts  as 
minister,  he  sought  to  establish  the  freedom  of  the  corn  trade,  to 
remove  the  hindrances  to  industry  arising  from  nicdiKval  survivals, 
to  give  a  large  development  to  manufactures,  and  to  liberate  agri- 
culture from  the  odious  burdens  to  which  it  was  subject.  He  saw 
that,  notwithstanding  tho  enlightened  administration  of  Charles 
III.,  Spain  still  suffered  from  the  evil  results  of  the  blind  confidence 
reposed  by  her  people  in  her  gold  mines,  and  enforced  the  lesson 
that  the  real  sources  of  the  wealth  and  power  of  liis  country  must 
be  sought,  not  in  America,  but  in  her  own  industry. 

In  both  Italy  and  Spain,  as  is  well  observed  by  Comte, 
the  impulse  towards  social  change  took  principally  the 
direction  of  economic  reform,  because  the  pressure  exercised 
by  Governments  prevented  so  large  a  measure  of  free 
speculation  in  the  fields  of  philosophy  and  general  politics 
as  was  possible  in  France.  In  Italy,  it  may  be  added,  the 
traditions  of  the  great  industrial  past  of  the  northern 
cities  of  that  country  also  tended  to  fix  attention  chiefly 
on  the  economic  side  of  public  policy  and  legislation. 

Germany. — We  have  seen  that  in  Italy  and  England 
political  economy  had  its  beginnings  in  the  study  of 
practical  questions  relating  chiefly  to  money  or  to  foreign 
commerce.  lu  Germany  it  arose  (as  Roscher  has  shown) 
out  of  the  so-called  cameralistic  sciences.  From  the  end 
of  the  Middle  Ages  there  existed  in  most  German  countries 
a  council,  known  as  the  Kammer  (Lat.  r.amei-a),  which  was 
occupied  with  the  management  of  the  public  domain  and 
the  guardianship  of  regal  rights.  The  emperor  Maximiliar, 
found  this  institution  existing  in  Burgundy,  and  estaK 
lished,  in  imitation  of  it,  aulic  councils  at  Innsbruck  and 
Vienna  in  1498  and  1501.  Not  only  finance  and  taxation, 
but  questions  also  of  economic  police,  came  to  be  intrusted 
to  these  bodies.  A  special  preparation  became  necessary 
for  their  members,  and  chairs  of  cameralistic  science  were 
founded  in  universities  for  the  teaching  of  the  appropriata 
body  of  doctrine.  One  side  of  tho  instruction  thus  given 
borrowed  its  materials  from  the  sciences  of  external  nature, 
dealing,  as  it  did,  with  forestry,  mining,  general  technology, 
and  the  like;  the  other  related  to  the  conditions  of  national 
prosperity  as  depending  on  human  relations  and  institu- 
tions; and  out  of  the  latter  German  political  economy  was 
at  first  developed. 

In  no  country  had  mercantilist  views  a.  stronger  hold  than  in 
Germany,  though  in  none,  in  the  period  we  al^  now  considering, 
did  the  system  of  tiie  balance  of  trade  receive  a  less  extensive  paic- 
tical  application.  AH  the  leading  German  economists  of  the  17th 
century — Hornitz,  Besold,  Klock,  Bechcr,  Horneok,  Scckendorf,  and 
Schroder — stand  on  the  common  basis  of  the  mercantile  doctrine. 
And  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  writers  of  the  first  half  of  tho  18th 
century  in  general,  und  notably  of  Justi(d.  1771),  who  was  tho 
author  of  tho  first  systematic  German  treatise  on  political  economy, 
a  work  which,  from  its  currency  as  a  text  book,  had  much  effect  on 
tho  formation  of  opinion.  Only  in  Zincke  (169'2-1769)  do  wo  find 
occasional  expressions  of  n  circle  of  ideas  at  variance  with  the 
dominant  system,  and  irointing  in  tho  direction  of  indnstrinl 
freedom,  liut  these  writcre,  except  from  the  national  luiint  of 
view,  are  unimportant,  not  having  exercised  any  influence  on  the 
general  movement  of  Kuropcan  thought. 

The  principles  of  the  fihysiocratio  system  mot  with  a  certain' 
amount  uf  favour  in  Cerinany.  Karl  Fricdrioh,  morgravo  of  Hadon, 
wrote  for  the  use  of  his  sons  an  Abregi  dcs  vrivcipes  d' Kconomie 
Puliligue,  1772,  which  is  in  harmony  with  the  ductrinoa  of  that 
system.  It  possesses,  however,  little  scicntifiovalue.  Schlcttwcin 
(1731-1802)  and  Manvillon  (1743-1794)  were  followers  of  tho  same 
school.  Theodor  Scbmalz  (1764-1831),  who  is  eoinmonly  named 
as  "  tlie  last  of  the  )ihysiocrat.s,"  may  be  here  mentioned,  though 
somewhat  out  of  tho  historic  order.  He  romi  ares  Colbcrtism  with 
tho  Ptolemaic  system,  physiocratism  with  the  Cojicrnican.  Adam 
Smith  he  reproscnU  as  the  Tyclio  Hmho  of  political  economy, — a 
man  of  eminent  rawora,  who  could  not  resist  the  force  of  truth  in 
the  physiocrats,  but  partly  could  not  divcst  himself  of  rooted  pre- 
judices, and  i«irtly  was  ambitious  of  the  fame  of  a  discoverer  and  a 
reconc-.ler  of  divergent  systems.     Though  Smith   was  now  "th9 


mi 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


fashion,"  Schmalz  could  not  doubt  that  Quesnay's  doctrine'  was 
alone  true,  and  would  ere  long  be  triumphant  everywhere. 

Just  before  the  appearance  of  Smith,  as  in  England  Steuart,  and 
in  Italy  Genovcsi,  so  in  Austria  Sonnenfels  (1733-1817),  the-  first 
distinguished  economist  of  that  country,  sought  to  present  the 
mercantile  system  in  a  modified  and  more  enlightened  form  ;  and 
hisworlc  {Grimclsdlze  der  Polizei,  Handlung,  und  Finanz,  1765  ;  8th 
ed.,  1822)  exercised  even  during  a  considerable  part  of  the  present 
century  much  influence  on  opinion  and  on  policy  in  Austria, 

But  the  greatest  German  economist  of  the  18th  century  was,  iii 
Koscher's  oi)inion,  Justus  Moser  (1720-1794),  the  author  o{  Patrio- 
tische  Pkantfisicoi  (1774),  a  series  of  fragments,  which,  Goethe 
nevertheless  declares,  form  "ein  wahrhaftes  Ganzes."  The  poet 
was  much  influenced  by  Moser  in  his  youth,  and  has  eulogized  in 
the  Dichlung  und  yVahrheit  his  spirit,  intellect,  and  character,  and 
his  thorough  insight  into  all  that  goes  on  in  the  social  •  world. 
iWhilst  others  occupied  themselves  with  larger  and  more  prominent 
public  aft'airs  and  transactions,  Moser  observed  and  reproduced  the 
common  daily  life  of  his  nation,  and  the  thousand  "  little  things  " 
Jwhich  compose  the  te.\ture  of  popular  existence.  He  has  been  com- 
pared to  Franklin  for  the  homeliness,  verve,  and  freshness  of  his 
writings.  In  opinions  he  is  akin  to  the  Italian  Ortes.  He  is 
opposed  to  the  whole  spirit  of  the  "Aufklcirung,"  and  to  the  liberal 
and  rationalistic  direction  of  which  Smith's  work  became  after- 
wards the  expression..  He  is  not  merely  conservative  but  reaction- 
ary, manifesting  a  preference  for  medifeval  institutions  such  as  the 
trade  guilds,  and,  like  Carlyle  in  our  own  time,  seeing  advantages 
even  in  serfdom,  when  compared  with  the  sort  of  freedom  enjoyed 
by  the  modern  drudge.  He  has  a  marked  antipathy  for  the  growth 
of  the  money  power  and  of  manufactures  on  the  large  scale,  and 
for  the  highly  developed  divisi<?n  of  labour.  He  is  opposed  to 
absolute  private  property  in  land,  and  would  gladly  see  revived 
such  a  system  of  restrictions  as  in  the  interest  of  the  state,  the 
commune,  and  the  family  were  imposed  on  mediaeval  ownership. 
In  his  wayward  and  caustic  style,  he  often  criticizes  efl'ectively  the 
doctrinaire  narrowness  of  his  contemporaries,  throws  out  many 
striking  ideas,  and  in  particular  sheds  real  liglit  on  the  economic 
phenomena  and  general  social  conditions  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

2.  Adam  Smith,  with  his  Immediate  Predecessors 
and  hi^  Followers. 

England. — The  stagnation  in  economic  inquiry  which 
sho-wed  itself  in  England  in  the  early  part  of  the  18th 
century  was  not  broken  by  any  notable  manifestation 
before  1735,  when  Bi.shop  Berkeley  put  forward  in  his 
Querist,  with  much  force  and  point,  views  opposed  to 
those  of  the  mercantile  school  on  the  nature  of  national 
wealth  and  the  functions  of  money,  though  not  without  an 
iadraixture  of  grave  error.  But  soon  a  more  decisive 
advance  was  made.  Whilst  in  France  the  physiocrats 
were  working  after  their  own  fashion  towards  the  con- 
struction of  a  definitive  system  of  political  economy,  a 
Scottish  thinker  of  the  first  order  was  elucidating,  in  a 
series  of  short  but  pregnant  essays,  some  of  the  funda- 
mental conceptions  of  the  science.  'What  had  been  written 
on  these  questions  in  the  English  language  before  his  time 
had  remained  almost  altogether  within  the  limits  of  the 
directly  practical  sphere.  With  Locke,  indeed^  the  general 
system  of  the  modern  critical  philosophy  had  come  into 
relation  with  economic  inquiry,  but  only  in  a  partial  and 
indeterminate  way.  But  in  Hume  the  most  advanced 
form  of  this  philosophy  was  represented,  and  his  appear- 
ance in  the  field  of  economics  decisively  marks  the  tendency 
bf  the  latter  order  of  speculation  to  place  itself  in  con- 
nexion with  the  largest  and  deepest  thought  on  human 
nature  and  general  human  history,  ilost  of  the  essays 
here  referred  to  first  appeared  in  1752,  in  a  volume  entitled 
Political  Discourses,  and  the  number  was  completed  in  the 
collection  of  Essays  and  Treatises  on  Several  Subjects,  pub- 
lished in  the  following  year.  The  most  important  of  them 
are  those  on  Commerce,  on  Money,  on  Interest,  and  on 
the  Balance  of  Trade.  Yet  these  should  not  be  separated 
from  the  rest,  for,  notwithstanding  the  unconnected  form 
of  these  little  treatises,  there  runs  through  them  a  pro- 
found unity  of  thought,  so  that  they  indeed  compose  in  a 
certain  sense  an  economic  system.  They  exhibit  in  full 
measure  HunieV  wonderful  acuteness  and  subtlety,  which 


indeed  sometimes  di.=.pose  him  to  paradox,  in  combination 
with  the  breadth,  the  absence  of  prejudice,  and  the  social 
sympathies  which  so  eminently  distinguish  him  ;  and  they 
offer,  besides,  the  charm  of  his  easy  and  natural  style  and 
his  rare  power  of  lucid  exposition.  ' 

In  the  essay  on  money  he  refutes  the  mercantilist  error,  which 
tended  to  confound  it  with  wealth.  "  Men  and  commodities,"  he 
says,  "  are  the  real  strength  of  any  community."  "  In  the  national 
stock  of  labour  consists  all  real  power  and  riches."  Money  is  only 
the  oil  which  makes  the  movements  of  the  mechanism  of  commerce 
more  smooth  and  easj'.  He  shows  that,  from  the  domestic  as 
distinguished  from  the  international  point  of  view,  the  absolute 
quantity  of  money,  supposed  as  of  fixed  amount,  in  a  country  is  of 
no  consequence,  whilst  an  excessive  quantity,  larger,  that  is,  than 
is  required  for  the  interchange  of  commodities,  may  be  injurious  as 
raising  prices  and  driving  foreigners  from  the  home  markets.  He 
goes  so  far,  in  one  or  two  places,  as  to  assert  that  the  value  of  money 
is  chiefly  fictitious  or  conventional,  a  position  which  cannot  bo 
defended  ;  but  it  must  not  be  pressed  against  him,  as  he  builds 
nothing  on  it.  He  has  some  very  ingenious  observations  (since, 
however,  questioned  by  J.  S.  MiU)  on  the  eff'ects  of  the  increase  of 
money  in  a  country  in  srimulating  industry  during  the  interval  which 
takes  place  before  the  additional  amount  is  sufficiently  difl'used  to 
alter  the  whole  scale  of  prices.  He  shows  that  the  fear  of  the 
money  of  an  industrious  community  being  lost  to  it  by  passing 
into  foreign  countries  is  groundless,  and  that,  under  a  system  of 
freedom,  the  distribution  of  the  precious  metals  which  is  adapted 
to  the  requirements  of  trade  will  spontaneously  establish  itself. 
"  In  short,  a  Government  has  great  reason  to  preserve  with  care  its 
people  and  its  manufactures  ;  its  money  it  may  safely  trust  to  the 
course  of  human  affairs  without  fear  or  jealousy." 

A  very  important  service  was  rendered  by  his  treatment  of  tho 
rate  of  interest.  He  exposes  the  erroneous  idea  often  entertained 
that  it  depends  on  the  quantity  of  money  in  a  country,  and  shows 
that  the  reduction  of  it  must  in  general  be  the  result  of  ' '  the  increase 
of  industry  and  frugality,  of  arts  and  commerce,"  so  that  it  may 
serve  as  a  barometer,  its  lowness  being  an  almost  infalliblesign  of 
the  flourishing  condition  of  a  people.  It  may  be  observed  in  pass- 
ing that  in  the  essay  devoted  to  this  subject  he  brings  out  a  prin- 
ciple of  human  nature  which  economists  too  often  overlook,  "the 
constant  and  insatiable  desire  of  the  mind  for  exercise  and  employ- 
ment," and  the  consequent  action  of  c«)i!«'  in  prompting  to  exer- 
tion. 

With  respect  to  commerce,  he  points  to  its  natural  foundation  in 
what  has  since  been  called  "  the  territorial  division  of  labour,"  and 
proves  that  the  prosperity  of  one  nation,  instead  of  being  a  hin- 
drance, is  a  help  to  that  of  its  neigjj hours.  "Not  only  as  a  man, 
but  as  a  British  subject,"  he  says,  "I  pray  for  the  flourishing  com- 
merce of  Germany,  Spain,  Italy,  and  even  France  itself."  He  con 
demns  the  "  numberless  bars,  obstructions,  and  imposts  which  all 
nations  of  Europe,  and  none  more  thau  England,  have  put  upon 
trade."  Yet  on  the  question  of  protection  to  national  industry 
he  is  not  quite  at  the  free-trade  point  of  view,  for  he  approves  of  a 
tax  on  German  linen  as  encouraging  home  manufactures,  and  of  a 
tax  on  brandy  as  increasing  the  sale  of  rum  and  supporting  out 
southern  colonies.  Indeed  it  has  been  justly  observed  that  there 
are  in  him  several  traces  of  a  refined  mercantilism,  and  that  he 
represents  a  state  of  opinion  in  which  the  transition  from  tho  old 
to  the  new  views  is  not  yet  completely  effected. 

We  cannot  do  more  than  refer  to  the  essay  on  taxes,  in  which, 
amongst  other  tilings,  he  repudiates  the  imp6t  unique  of  the  physio- 
crats, and  to  that  on  public  credit,  iu  which  he  criticizes  the 
"  new  paradox  that  public  incumbrances  are  of  themselves  advan- 
tageous, independent  of  the  necessity  of  contracting  them,"  and 
objects,  perhaps  too  absolutely,  to  the  modern  expedient  of  raising 
the  money  required  for  national  enterprises  by  way  of  loan,  and  so 
shifting  our  burdens  upon  the  shoulders  of  posterity. 

The  characteristics  of  Hume  which  are  most  important 
in  the  history  of  economic  investigation  are  (1)  his 
practice  of  bringing  economic  facts  into  connexion  with  all 
the  weighty  interests  of  social  and  political  life,  and  (2) 
his  tendency  to  introduce  the  historical  spirit  into  the 
study  of  those  facts.  He  admirably  illustrates  the  mutual 
action  of  the  several  branches  of  industry,  and  the  influ- 
ences of  progress  in  the  arts  of  production  and  in  com- 
merce on  general  civilization,  exhibits  the  striking  con- 
trasts of  the  ancient  and  modern  system  of  life  (see  espe- 
cially the  essay  On  the  Populousness  of  Ancient  .N^ations), 
and  considers  almost  every  phenomenon  which  comes  under 
discussion  in  its  relations  to  the  contemporary  stage  of 
social  development.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  Hume 
exercised  a  most  important  influence  on  Adam  Smith,  whu 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


365 


in  the  Wealt/i  of -Nations  calls  him  "by  far  the  most  illus- 
trious philosopher  and  historian  of  the  present  age,"  and 
who  esteemed  his  character  so  highly  that,  after  a  friend- 
ship of  many  years  had  been  terminated  by  Hume's 
decease,  he  declared  him  to  have  "  approached  as  nearly 
to  the  idea  of  a  perfectly  wise  and  virtuous  man  as 
perhaps  the  nature  of  human  frailty  will  permit." 

Josiah  Tucker,  dean  of  Gloucester  (d.  1799),  holds  a  distinguished 
place  among  tlie  immediate  predecessors  of  Smith.  Most  of  'his 
numerous  productions  had  direct  reference  to  contemporary  ques- 
tions, and,  though  marked  by  much  sagacity  and  penetration  are 
deficient  in  permanent  interest.  In"  some  of  these  he  urged  the 
impolicy  of  restrictions  on  the  trade  of  Ireland,  advocated  a  union 
of  that  country  with  England,  and  recommended  the  recognition  of 
the  independence  of  the  United  States  of  America.  The  most 
important  of  bis  general  economic  views  are  those  relating  to  in- 
tei'national  commerce.  He  is  an  ardent  supporter  of  free-trade 
doctrines,  which  he  bases  on  the  principles  that  there  is  between 
nations  no  necessary  antagonism,  but  rather  a  harmony,  of  interests, 
and  that  their  several  natural  advantages  and  different  aptitudes 
naturally  prompt  them  to  e.'cchange.  Ho  had  not,  however,  got 
quite  clear  of  mercantilism,  and  favoured  bounties  on  exported 
manufactures  and  the  encouragement  of  population  by  a  tax  on 
celibacy.  Dupont,  and  after  him  Blanqui,  represent  Tucker  as  a 
follower  of  the  physiocrats,  but  there  seems  to  be  no  ground  for 
this  opinion  except  his  agreement  with  them  on  the  subject  of  the 
freedom  of  trade.  Turgot  translated  into  French  his  Important 
Questions  on.  Commerce  (1755). 
HeMrt.  In  1767  was  published  Sir  James  Steuart's /ji^'uin/  into  the  Prin- 
ciples of  Political  Economy,  This  was  one  of  the  most  unfortunate 
of  books.  It  was  the  most  complete  and  .systematic  survey  of  tlie 
science  from  the  point  of  view  of  moderate  mercantilism  which 
had  appeared  in  England.  Steuart  was  a  man  of  no  ordinary 
abilities,  and  had  prepared  himself  for  his  task  by  long  and  serious 
study.  But  the  time  for  the  mercantile  doctrines  was  past,  and 
the  system  of  natural  liberty  was  in  possession  of  an  intellectual 
ascendency  which  foreshadowed  its  political  triumph.  Nine  years 
later  the  Wealth  of  Nations  was  given  to  the  world,  a  xjork  as 
superior  to  Steuart's  in  attractiveness  of  style  as  in  scientific  sound- 
ness. Thus  the  latter  was  predestined  to  fail,  and  in  fact  never 
exercised  any  considerable  theoretic  or  practical  influence.  Smith 
never  quotes  or  mentions  it  ;  being  acquainted  with  Steuart,  whose 
conversation  he  said  was  better  than  his  book,  ho  probably  wished 
to  keep  clear  of  controversy  with  him.  The  German  economists 
have  examined  Steuart's  treatise  more  carefully  than  English 
writers  have  commonly  done  ;  and  they  recognize  its  high  merits, 
especially  in  relation  to  the  theory  of  value  and  the  subject  of 
population.  They  have  also  pointed  out  that,  in  the  .spirit  of  the 
best  recent  research,  he  has  dwelt  on  the  special  characters  which 
distinguish  the  economics  proper  to  dilTereut  nations  and  different 
grades  in  social  progress. 

dam  Coming  now  to  the  great  name  of  Adam  Smith  (1723- 

oth.  1790),  it  is  of  the  highest  importance  that  we  should 
rightly  understand  his  position  and  justly  estimate  his 
claims.  It  is  plainly  contrary  to  fact  to  represent  him,  as 
some  have  done,  as  the  creator  of  political  economy.  The 
subject  of  social  wealth  had  always  in  some  degree,  and 
incroasitgly  in  recent  times,  engaged  the  attention  of 
philosophic  minds.  The  study  had  even  indisputably 
assumed  a  systematic  character,  and,  from  being  an  assem- 
blage of  fragmentary  disquisitions  on  particular  questions 
of  national  interest,  had  taken  the  form,  notably  in 
Turgot's  Jiejlexion.^,  of  an  organized  body  of  doctrine. 
The  truth  is  that  Smith  took  up  the  science  when  it  was 
already  considerably  advanced  ;  and  it  was  this  very  cir- 
cum,stanco  which  enabled  him,  by  the  production  of  a 
classical  treatise,  to  render  most  of  his  predecessors  obso- 
lete. But,  whilst  all  the  economic  labours  of  the  preceding 
centuries  preparc>l  the  way  for  him,  they  did  not  anticipate 
his  work.  His  appearance  at  an  earlier  stage,  or  without 
those  previous  labours,  would  be  inconceivable  ;  but  ho 
built,  on  the  foundation  which  had  been  laid  by  others, 
much  of  his  own  that  was  precious  and  enduring. 

Even  those  who  do  not  fall  into  the  error  of  making 
Smith  the  creator  of  the  science,  often  separate  him  too 
broadly  from  Qucsnay  and  his  followers,  and  represent  the 
history  of  modern  economics  as  consisting  of  the  successive 
rise   and  reign   of   three   doctrines — the   mercantile,  the 


physiocratic,  and  the  Smithian.  The  last  two  are,  it  is 
true,  at  variance  in  some  even  important  respects.  But  it 
is  evident,  and  Smith  himself  felt,  that  their  agreements 
were  much  more  fundamental  than  their  differences  ;  and, 
if  we  regard  them  as  historical  forces,  they  must  be  con- 
sidered as  working  towards  identical  ends.  They  both 
iirged  society  towards  the  abolition  of  the  previously  pro- 
vailing  industrial  policy  of  European  Governments  ;  and 
their  arguments  against  that  policy  rested  essentially  on 
the  same  grounds.  Whilst  Smith's  criticism  was  more 
searching  and  complete,  he  also  analysed  more  correctly 
than  the  physiocrats  some  classes  of  economic  phenomena, — 
ill  particular  dispelling  the  illusions  into  which  they  had 
fallen  with  respect  to  the  unproductive  nature  of  manu- 
factures and  commerce.  Their  school  disappeared  from 
the  scientific  field,  not  merely  because  it  met  with  a 
political  check  in  the  person  of  Turgot,  but  because,  as 
we  have  already  said,  the  Wealth  of  Nations  absorbed  into 
itself  all  that  was  valuable  in  their  teaching,  whilst  it 
continued  more  effectually  the  impulse  they  had  given  to 
fAie  necessary  work  of  demoiition. 

The  history  of  economic  opinion  in  modern  times,  down 
to  the  third  decade  of  our  own  century,  is,  in  fact,  strictly 
bipartite.  The  first  stage  is  filled  with  the  mercantile 
system,  which,  as  we  have  shown,  was  rather  a  practical 
policy  than  a  speculative  doctrine,  and  which  came  into 
existence  as  the  spontaneous  growth  of  social  conditions 
acting  on  minds  not  trained  to  scientific  habits.  The 
second  stage  is  occupied  with  the  gradual  rise  and  ultimate 
ascendency  of  another  system  founded  on  the  idea  of  the 
right  of  the  individual  to  an  unimpeded  sphere  for  the 
exercise  of  his  economic  activity.  With  the  latter,  which 
is  best  designated  as  the  "  system  of  natural  liberty,"  we 
ought  to  associate  the  memory  of  the  physiocrats  as  well 
as  that  of  Smith,  without,  however,  maintaining  their 
services  to  have  been  equal  to  his. 

The  teaching  of  political  economy  was  in  the  Scottish 
universities  associated  with  that  of  moral  philosophy. 
Smith,  as  we  are  told,  conceived  the  entire  subject  ho  had 
to  treat  in  his  public  lectures  as  divisible  into  four  heads, 
the  first  of  which  was'  natural  theology,  the  second 
ethics,  the  third  jurisprudence  ;  whilst  in  the  fourth  "  he 
examined  those  political  regulations  which  are  founded 
upon  expediency,  and  which  are  calculated  to  increase  the 
riches,  the  power,  and  the  prosperity  of  a  state."  The 
last  two  branches  of  inquiry  are  regarded  as  forming  but 
a  single  body  of  doctrine  in  the  well-known  passage  of  the 
Theory  of  JJ oral  Sejiliments  in  which  the  author  promises 
to  give  in  another  discourse  "an  account  of  the  general 
principles  of  law  and  government,  and  of  the  different 
revolutions  they  have  undergone  in  the  different  ages  and 
periods  of  society,  not  only  in  what  concerns  justice,  but 
in  what  concerns  police,  revenue,  and  arms,  and  whatever 
else  is  the  subject  of  law.",.  This  shows  how  little  it  was 
Smith's  habit  to  separate  (except  provisionally),  in  his 
conceptions  or  his  researches,  the  economic  phenomena  of 
society  from  all  the  rest.  The  words  above  quoted  have, 
indeed,  been  not  unjustly  described  as  containing  "an 
anticipation,  wonderful  for  his  period,  of  general  sociology, 
both  statical  and  dynamical,  an  anticipation  which 
bepomes  still  more  remarkable  when  we  learn  from  his 
literary  executors  that  he  had  formed  the  plan  of  a  con- 
nected history  of  the  liberal  sciences  and  elegant  arts, 
which  must  have  added  to  the  branches  of  social  study 
already  enumerated  a  view  of  the  intellectual  progress  of 
society."  Though  these  large  desigivs  were  never  carried 
out  in  their  integrity,  as  indeed  at  that  period  they  could 
not  have  been  adequately  realized,  it  has  resulted  frqin 
them  that,  though  economic  phenomena  form  the  special 
subject  of  the    Wealth  of  Nations,  Smith  yet  incorporated 


366 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


into  that  work  much  that  relates  to  the  other  social 
aspects,  incurring  thereby  the  censure  of  some  of  his  fol- 
lowers, who  insist  with  pedantic  narrowness  on  the  strict 
isolation  of  the  economic  domain. 

There  has  been  much  discussion  on  the  question — What 
is  the  scientific  method  followed  by  Smith  in  his  great 
work  ?  By  some  it  is  considered  to  have  been  purely 
deductive,  a  view  which  Buckle  has  perhaps  carried  to  the 
greatest  extreme.  He  asserts  that  in  Scotland  the  induc- 
tive method  was  unknown,  that  the  inductive  philosophy 
exercised  no  influence  on  Scottish  thinkers ;  and,  though 
Smith  spent  some  of  the  most  important  years  of  his 
youth  in  England,  where  the  inductive  method  was 
supreme,  and  though  he  was  widely  read  in  general  philo- 
sophical literature,  he  yet  thinks  he  adopted  the  deductive 
method  because  it  was  habitually  followed  in  Scotland, — 
and  this  though  Buckle  maintains  that  it  is  the  only 
appropriate,  or  even  possible,  method  in  political  economy, 
which  surely  would  have  been  a  sufficient  reason  for  choos- 
ing it.  That  the  inductive  spirit  exercised  no  influence 
on  Scottish  philosophers  is  certainly  not  true ;  as  ■will  be 
presently  shown,  ^lontesquieji,  whose  method  is  essentially 
inductive,  was  in  Smith's  time  studied  with  quite  peculiar 
care  and  regarded  with  special  veneration  by  Smith's  fellow- 
countrymen.  As  to  Smith  himself,  what  may  justly  be 
said  of  him  is  that  the  deductive  bent  was  certainly  not 
the  predominant  character  of  his  miud,  nor  did  his  great 
excellence  lie  in  the  "  dialectic  skill "  which  Buckle  ascribes 
to  him.  What  strikes  us  most  in  his  book  is  his  wide  and 
keen  observation  of  social  facts,  and  his  perpetual  tendency 
to  dwell  on  these  and  elicit  their  significance,  instead  of 
drawing  conclusions  from  abstract  principles  by  elaborate 
chains  of  reasoning.  It  is  this  habit  of  his  mind  which 
gives  us,  in  reading  him,  so  strong  and  abiding  a  sense  of 
being  in  contact  with  the  realities  of  life. 

That  Smith  does,  however,  largely  employ  the  deductive 
method  is  certain ;  and  that  method  is  quite  legitimate 
when  the  premises  from  which  the  deduction  sets  out  are 
known  universal  facts  of  human  nature  and  properties 
of  external  objects.  Whether  this  mode  of  proceeding 
will  carry  us  far  may  indeed  well  be  doubted ;  but  its 
soundness-  cannot  be  disputed.  But  there  is  another 
vicious  species  of  deduction  which,  as  Clifte  Leslie  has 
shown,  seriously  tainted  the  philosophy  of  Smith, — in 
which  the  premises  are  not  facts  ascertained  by  observa- 
tion, but  the  same  a  priori  assumptions,  half  theological 
half  metaphysical,  respecting  a  supposed  harmonious  and 
beneficent  natural  order  of  things  which  we  found  in  the 
physiocrats,  and  which,  as  we  saw,  were  embodied  in  the 
name  of  that  sect.  In  his  view.  Nature  has  made  provi- 
sion for  social  wellbeing  by  the  principle  of  the  human 
constitution  which  prompts  every  man  to  better  his  condi- 
tion :  the  individual  aims  only  at  his  private  gain,  but  in 
doing  so  is  "  led  by  an  invisible  hand "  to  promote  the 
public  good,  which  was  no  part  of  his  intention  ;  human 
institutions,  by  interfering  with  the  action  of  this  principle 
in  the  name  of  the  public  interest,  defeat  their  own  end; 
but,  when  all  systems  of  preference  or  restraint  are  taken 
away,  "th6  obvious  and  simple  system  of  natural  liberty 
establishes  itself  of  its  own  accord."  This  theory  is,  of 
course,  not  explicitly  presented  by  Smith  as  a  foundation 
of  his  economic  doctrines,  but  it  is  really  the  secret  sub- 
stratum on  which  they  rest.  Yet,  whilst  such  latent 
postulates  warped  his  view  of  things,  they  did  not  entirely 
determine  his  method.  His  native  bent  towards  the 
study  of  things  as  they  are  preserved  him  from  extrava- 
gances into  which  many  of  his  followers  have  fallen.  But 
b'esides  this,  as  Leslie  has  pointed  out,  the  influence  of 
Montesquieu  tended  to  counterbalance  the  theoretic  pre- 
possessions produced  by  the  doctrine  of  the  jus  naturx. 


That  great  thinker,  though  he  could  not,  at  his  period, 
understand  the  historical  method  which  is  truly  approprr 
ate  to  sociological  inquiry,  yet  founded  his  conclusions  on 
induction.  It  is  true,  as  Comte  has  remarked,  that  his 
accumulation  of  facts,  borrowed  from  the  most  different 
states  of  civilization,  and  not  subjected  to  philosophic 
criticism,  necessarily  remained  on  the  whole  sterile,  or  at 
least  could  not  essentially  advance  the  study  of  society 
much  beyond  the  point  at  which  he  found  it.  His  merit, 
as  we  have  before  mentioned,  lay  in  the  recognition  of  the 
subjection  of  all  social  phenomena  to  natural  laws,  not  in 
the  discovery  of  those  laws.  But  this  limitation  was  over- 
looked by  iLe  philosophers  of  the  time  of  Smith,  who 
were  much  attracted  by  the  system  he  followed  of  tracing 
social  facts  to  the  special  circumstances,  physical  or  moral, 
of  the  communities  in  which  they  were  observed.  Leslie 
has  shown  that  Lord  Kaimes,  Dalrymple,  and  Millar 
— contemporaries  of  Smith,  and  the  last  his  pupil — were 
influenced  by  Montesquieu ;  and  he  might  have  added  the 
more  eminent  name  of  Ferguson,  whose  respect  and 
admiration  for  the  great  Frenchman  are  expressed  in 
striking  terms  in  his  History  of  Civil  Society.  We  are 
even  informed  that  Smith  himself  in  his  later  years  was 
occupied  in  preparing  a  commentary  on  the  Esprit  des 
Lois.  He  was  thus  affected  by  two  different  and  incon- 
gruous systems  of  thought, — one  setting  out  from  an 
imaginary  code  of  nature  intended  for  the  benefit  of  man, 
and  leading  to  an  optimistic  view  of  the  economic  consti- 
tution founded  on  enlightened  self-interest;  the  other 
following  inductive  processes,  and  seeking  to  explain  the 
several  states  in  which  human  societies  are  found  existing, 
as  results  of  circumstances  or  institutions  which  have  been 
in  actual  operation.  And  we  fi,nd  accordingly  in  his  great 
work  a  combination  of  these  two  modes  of  treatment — 
inductive  inquiry  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  a 
priori  speculation  founded  on  the  "  Nature  "  hypothesis. 
The  latter  vicious  proceeding  has  in  some  of  his  followers 
been  greatly  aggravated,  while  the  countervailing  spirit  of 
inductive  investigation  has  fallen  into  the  background,  and 
indeed  the  necessity  or  utility  of  any  such  investigation  in 
the  economic  field  has  been  sometimes  altogether  denied. 

Some  have  represented  Smith's  work"  as  of  so  loose  a 
texture  and  so  defective  in  arrangement  that  it  may  Vio 
justly  described  as  consisting  of  a  series  of  monographs. 
But  this  is  certainly  an  exaggeration.  The  book,  it  is 
true,  is  not  framed  ou  a  rigid  mould,  nor  is  there  any 
parade  of  systematic  divisions  and  subdivisions  ;  and  this 
doubtless  recommended  it  to  men  of  the  world  and  of 
business,  for  whose  instruction  it  was,  at  least  primarily, 
intended.  But,  as  a  body  of  exposition,  it  has  the  real  and 
pervading  unity  which  results  from  a  mode  of  thinking 
homogeneous  throughout  and  the  general  absence  of  such 
contradictions  as  would  arise  from  an  imperfect  digestion 
of  the  subject. 

Smith  sets  ont  from  the  thought  that  the  annua!  labourof  a  nation 
is  the  source  from  which  it  derives  its  supply  of  the  necessaries  and 
conveniences  of  life.  He  does  not  of  course  contemplate  labour  as  tlie 
only  factor  in  production  ;  but  it  has  been  supposed  that  by  empha- 
sizing it  at  the  outs'^.t  he  at  once  strikes  the  note  of  difference 
between  himself  ou  the  one  hand  and  both  the  mercantilists  and  the 
physiocrats  on  the  other.  The  improvement  in  the  productiveness 
of  labour  depends  largely  on  its  division  ;  and  he  proceeds  accord- 
ingly to  give  his  unrivalled  exposition  of  that  princijde,  of  the 
grounds  on  which  it  rests,  and  of  its  greater  applicability  le 
manufactures  than  to  agriculture,  in  consequence  of  which  the 
latter  relatively  lags  behind  in  the  course  of  economic  development. 
The  origin  of  the  division  of  labour  he  finds  in  the  projiensity  of 
human  nature  "to  truck,  barter,  or  exchange  one  thing  lor 
another."  Wp  shows  that  a  certain  accumulation  of  capital  is  a 
condition  precedent  of  this  division,  and  that  the  degree  to  w^^ieh 
it  can  be  carried  is  dependent  on  the  extent  of  the  market  When 
the  division  of  labour  has  been  established,  each  member  of  the 
society  must  have  recourse  to  the  others  for  the  supply  of  mo.st  of 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


367 


his  wants  ;  a  medium  of  exclinnge  is  tlius  found  to  be  necessary, 
and  money  conies  into  use.     The  exchange  of  goods  af;ainst  each 
other  or  against  money  gives  rise  to  the  notion  of   value.     This 
[word  has  tn-o  meanings— tlmt  of  utility,  and  that  of  purchasing 
power ;   the  one  may  be  called  value  in  use,   the  otlier   value  in 
exchange.     Merely  mentioning  the  former.  Smith  goes  on  to  study 
the   latter.      What,  he  asks,  is  the  measure  of  value  ?  what  regu- 
lates the  amount  of  one  thing  which  will  be  given  for  another! 
"Labour,"  Smith  answers,  "is  the  real  measure  of  the  exchange- 
able value  of  all  commodities,"     "  Equal  quantities  of  labour,  at 
all  times  and  places,  are  of  equal  value  to  the  labourer."     "Labour 
alone,  therefore,  never  varying  in  its  own  value,  is  alone  the  ultimate 
and  real  standard  by  which  the  value  of  all  commodities  can  at  all 
times  and  places  he  estimated  and  compared.     It  is  their  real  price ; 
money  is  their  nominal  price  only."     Money,  however,  is  in  men's 
actual  transactions  the  measure  of  value,  as  well  as  the  vehicle  of 
exchange  ;  and  the  precious  metals  are  best  suited  for  this  function, 
as  varying  little  in  tlieir  own  value  for  periods  of  moderate  length; 
for  distant  times,  corn  is  a   better   standard  of  comparison.     In 
relation  to  the  earliest  social  stage,  we  need  consider  nothing  but 
the  amount  of  labour  employed  in  the  production  of  an  article  as 
'  determining  its  exchange  value  ;   but  in  more  advanced  periods 
price  is  complex,  and  consists  in  the  most  general  case  of  three 
elements — wages,  profit,  and  rent.    Wages  are  the  reward  of  labour. 
Profit  arises  as  soon  as  stock,  being  accumulated  in  the  hands  of 
one  person,  is  employed  by  him  in   setting  others  to  work,  and 
supplying  them  with  mateiials  and  subsistence,  in  order  to  make  a 
gain  by  what  they  produce.      Rent  arises  as  soon  as  the  land  of  a 
country  has  all  become  private  property;  "the  landlords,  like  all 
other  men,  love  to  reap  where  they  never  sowed,  and  demand  a  rent 
even  for  its  natural  produce."     In  every  improved  society,  then, 
these  three  elements  enter  more  or  less  into  the  price  of  the  far 
greater  part  of  commodities.     There  is  in  every  society  or  neigh- 
bourhood an  ordinary  or  average  rate  of  wages  and  profit  in  every 
different  employment  of  labour  and  stock,  regulated  by  principles 
to  be  explained  hereafter,   as  also  an  ordinary  or  average  rate  of 
rent.     These  may  be  called  the  natural  rates  at  the  time  when  and 
the  place  where  tney  prevail ;   and  the  natural  price  of  a  commodity 
is  what  is  sufficient  to  pay  for  the  rent  of  the  land,  the  wages  of 
the  labour,  and  the  profit  of  the  stock  necessary  for  bringing  the 
commodity  to  market.     Tho  market  price  may  rise  above  or  fall 
below  the  amount  so  fixed,   being  determined  by  the  proportion 
between  tho  quantity  brought  to  market  and  the  demand  of  tliose 
who  are  willing  to  pay  the  natural  price.      Towards  the  natural 
price   as   a   centre   the    market-price,   regulated    by   competition, 
constantly  gravitates.     Some  commodities,  however,  are  .subject  to 
a  monopoly  of   production,  whether  from   the   peculiarities  of   a 
locality  or  from  legal  privilege :  their  price  is  always  the  highest 
that  can  be  got ;   the  natural  price  of  other  commodities  is  tho 
lowest  which  can  be  taken  for  any  length  of  time  together.     The 
three  component  parts  or  factors  of  price  vary  with  the  eircum- 
■tanccs  of  the   society.     The  rate  of   wages   is   determined   by  a 
"  dispute  "  or  struggle  of  opposite  interests  between  tho  employer 
and  the  workman.     A  minimum  rate  is  fixed  by  the  condition  that 
they  must  be  at  least  sufljcient  to  enable  a  man  and  his  wife  to 
maintain   themselves  and,   in  general,   bring  up  a  family.      The 
sxcess  above  this  will  depend  on  the  circumstances  of  the  country, 
and  the  consequent  demand  for  labour, — wages  being  high  when 
national  wealth  is  increasing,  low  when  it  is  declining.     The  same 
circumstances  determine  the  variation  of  profits,  but  in  an  opposite 
direction  ;  the  increase  of  stock,  which   raises  wages,  tending  to 
lower  profit  through  the  mutual  competition  of  capitalists.      "The 
whole  of  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  the  different  em- 
ployments of  labour  and  stock  must,  in  the  same  neighbourhood, 
be  cither  perfectly  equal  or  continually  tending  to  equality  ; "  if 
one  had  greatly  the  advantage  over  the  others,  people  would  crowd 
into  it,  and   the  level   would  soon   bo   restored.     Yet  pecuniary 
wages  and  profits  are  very  different  in  different  employments, — 
either  from  certain  circumstances  affecting  the  employments,  which 
recommend  or  disparage  them  in  men's  notions,  or  from  national 
policy,  "which  nowhere  leaves  things  at  perfect  liberty."     Here 
follows  Smith's  admirable  exposition  of  the  causes  which  produce 
the  inequalities  in  wages  and  profits  just  referred  to,   a  passage 
affording  ample  evidence  of  his  habits  of  nice  observation  of  the 
less  obvious  traits  in  human  nature,  and  also  of   tho  operation 
both  of  these  and  of  social  institutions  on  economic  facts.     The 
rent  of  land  comes  next  to  be  considered,  as  the  last  of  the  thVco 
elements  of  price.     Rent  is  a  monopoly  price,  equal,  not  to  what 
the  landlord  could  afford  to  take,  bnt  to  what  tho  farmer  can  afford 
to  give.  J   "Such  parts  only  of  the  produce  of  land  can  commonly 
be  Drought  to  market,  of  which  the  ordinary  price  is  sufficient  to 
replace   the   stock  which   must  be   employed   in   bringing   them 
thither,  together  with  the  ordinary  pmlits.     If  the  ordinary  price 
is  more  than  this,  the  surplus  part  will  naturally  go  to  tho  rent 
of  the  land.     If   it  is  'hot  more,  though  the  commodity  may  bo 
brought  to  market,  it  can  afford  no  rent  to  the  landlord.   '  Whither 
the  price  is  or  is  not  more  depends  on  the  demajid."     "Kent, 


therefore,  enters  into  the  price  of  comm  iditics  in  a  different  way 
from  wages  and  profits.  High  or  low  ivages  and  profit  are  the 
causes  of  high  or  low  price  ;  high  or  low  rent  is  the  ellect  of  it."  ■ 

Rent,  wages,  and  profits,  as  they  are  the  elements  of  price,  are 
also  the  constituents  of  income  ;  and  the  three  great  orders  of 
every,  civilized  society,  from  whcse  revenues  that  of  every  other 
order  is  ultimately  derived,  are  the  landlords,  the  labourers,  and 
the  capitalists.  The  relation  of  the  interests  of  these  three  classes 
to  those  of  society  at  large  is  dillcient.  The  interest  of  tho 
landlord  always  coincides  with  the  general  interest:  whatever 
promotes  or  obstructs  the  one  lias  the  same  effect  on  the  other. 
So  also  does  that  of  the  labourer :  when  the  wealth  of  the  nation  is 
progressive,  his  wages  are  high  ;  they  are  low  when  it  is  stationary 
or  retrogressive.  "The  interest  of  the  third  order  lias  not  the  same 
connexion  with  the  general  interest  of  the  society  as  that  of  the 
other  two ;  .  .  .  it  is»  always  in  some  respects  different  from  and 
opposite  to  that  of  the  public." 

Tlie  subject  of  the  second  book  is-"  the  nature,  accumulation, 
and  improvement  of  stock."  A  man's  whole  stock  •consists  of  two 
portions — that  which  is  reserved  for  his  immediate  consumption, 
and  that  which  is  employed  so  as  to  yield  a  revenue  to  its  owner. 
This  latter,  which  is  his  "  capital,"  is  divisible  into  the  two  classes 
of  "fixed"  and  "  circulating."  The  first  is  such  as  yields  a  profit, 
without  passing  into  other  haiids.  The  second  consists  of  such 
goods,  raised,  manufactured,  or  purchased,  as  are  sold  foi-  a  profit 
and  replaced  by  other  goods  ;  this  sort  of  capital  is  therefore  con- 
stantly going  from  and  returning  to  the  hands  of  its  owner.  The 
whole  capital  of  a  society  falls  under  the  same  two  heads.  Its 
fixed  capital  consists  chieHy  of  (1)  machines,  (2)  buildings  which 
aro  the  means  of  procuring  a  revenue,  (3)  agricultural  improve- 
ments, and  (4)  the  acquired  and  useful  abilities  of  all  members  of 
the  society  (since  sometimes  known  as  "pei'sonal  capital").  Its 
circulating  capital  is  also  composed  of  four  parts — (1)  money,  (2) 
provisions  in  the  hands  of  the  dealers,  (3)  materials,  and  (4)  com- 
pleted work  in  the  hands  of  the  manufacturer  or  merchant.  Next 
coines  the  distinction  of  the  gross  national  revenue  from  the  net, — 
the  first  being  the  whole  produce  of  the  land  and  labour  of  a 
country,  the  second  what  remains  after  deducting  tho  expense  of 
maintaining  the  fixed  capital  of  the  country  and  that  part  of  its 
circulating  capital  which  consists  of  money.  Jloney,  the  great 
wheel  of  circulation,'*  is  altogether  dilferent  from  the  goods  which 
are  circulated  by  means  of  it ;  it  is  a  costly  instrument  by  means 
of  which  alt  that  each  individual  receives  is  distributed  to  him  ; 
and  the  expenditure  required,  first  to  provide  it,  and  afterwards  to 
maintain  it,  is  a  deduction  from  the  net  revenue  of  tlie  society.  In 
development  of  this  consideration.  Smith  goes  on  to  explain  the 
gain  to  the  community  arising  from  the  substitution  of  paper 
money  for  that  composed  of  the  precious  metals  ;  and  here  occurs 
the  remarkable  illustration  in  wdiich  the  use  of  gold  and  silver 
money  is  compared  to  a  highway  on  the  ground,  that  of  pajier 
money  to  a  waggon  way  through  tho  air.  In  proccedingto  considei 
the  accumulation  of  capital,  lie  is  led  to  the  distinction  between 
productive  and  unproductive  labour,  tho  former  being  that  which 
is  fixed  or  realized  in  a  particular  object  or  vendible  article,  the 
latter  that  which  is  not  so  realized.  The  former  is  exemplified' in 
tho  labour  of  the  manufacturing  workman,  the  latter  in  that  of  tho 
menial  servant,  A  broad  lino  of  demarcation  is  thus  drawn  between 
the  labour  which  results  in  commodities  or  increased  value  of  com- 
modities, and  that  which  does  no  more  than  render  services  :  the 
former  is  productive,  the  latter  unproductive.  "  Productive"  is  by 
no  means  equivalent  to  "useful":  tho,  labours  of  the  magistrate, 
tho  soldier,  tho  churchman,  lawyer,  and  physician,  are,  in  omilh's 
senso,  unproductive.  Productive  labourers  alone  are  employed  out 
of  capital ;  unproductive  labourers,  as  well  as  those  ivno  do  not 
labour  at  all,'  aro  all  maintained  by  revenue.  In  advancing 
industrial  communities,  tho  portion  of  annual  produce  set  apart  as 
capital,  hears  an  increasing  proportion  to  that  which  is  immediately 
destined  to  constitute  are  venue,  either  as  rent  or  as  profit.  Par- 
simony is  the  source  of  the  increase  of  capital ;  by  augmenting  tho 
fund  devoted  to  the  maintenance  of  productive  hands,  it  puts  in 
motion  an  additional  quantity  of  industry,  which  adds  to  the  value 
of  the  annual  produce.  What  is  annually  saved  is  as  regularly 
consumed  as  wliat  is  spent,  but  by  a  dilferent  set  of  persons,  by 
productive  labourers  instead  of  idlers  or  unproductive  labourers; 
and  tho  former  reproduce  with  a  profit  the  value  of  their  consump- 
tion. The  prodigal,  encroaching  on  his  capital,  diminishes,  as  far 
as  in  him  lies,  tho  amount  of  productive  labour,  and  so  the  wealth 
of  the  country  ;  nor  is  this  ro.sult  affected  by  his  expenditure  being 
on  home-made,  as  distinct  from  foreign,  comuiodilics.  Every 
prodigal,  therefore,  is  a  public  enemy  ;  every  frugal  man  a  public 
bcnofnctor.  Tho  only  mode  of  incrra.sing  the  annual  produce  of 
tho  land  and  labour  is  to  increase  cither  tho  number  of  productivo 
labourers  or  tho  productive  ]>ower8  of  those  labourers.  Either 
process  will  in  general  reqnire  additional  capital,  tho  former  to 
maintain  the  new  labourer?,  the  lallir  to  provide  improved 
machinery  or  to  enable  tho  employer  to  introduce  a  more  complete 
division  of  labour.     In  what  are  commonly  called  lopns  of  mon^y. 


368 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


it  fsnot  really  tlie  money,  but  the  money's  worth,  that  the  borrower 
grants  ;  and  the  lender  really  assigns  to  liini  the  rif;lit  to  a  certain 
portioQ  of  tlie  annual  [noduoe  of  the  land  and  labour  of  tlie  country. 
As  the  general  capital  of  a  country  increases,  so  also  does  the  (lar- 
"ticular  portion  of  it  from  which  tlie  possessors  wish  to  derive  a 
Teveuue  witliout  being  at  the  trouble  of  employing  it  themselves  ; 
and,  as  the  quantity  of  stock  thus  available  for  loans  is  migmcnted, 
the  interest  diminishes,  not  merely  "  from  the  general  causes  which 
make  the  market  price  of  things  commonly  dimii  ish  as  their 
ijuautity  increases,"  but  because,  with  the  increase  of  capital,  "it 
becomes  gradually  more  and  more  dilhcnlt  to  find  within  the 
country  a  profitable  methodofenijiloying  any  new  capital," — whence 
arises  a  competitiou  between  ditlerent  capitals,  and  a  lowering  of 
profits,  which  must  diminish  the  price  which  can  be  paid  for  the 
use  of  capital,  or  in  other  words  the  rate  of  interest.  It  was 
formerly  wrongly  .supposed,  and  even  Locke  and  Montesquieu  did 
not  escape  this  error,  tliat  the  fall  in  the  value  of  the  precious 
metals  consequent  on  the  discovery  of  the  American  mines  was  the 
real  cause  of  the  general  lowering  of  the  rate  of  interest  iu  Eurojie. 
But  this  view,  already  refuted  by  Hume,  is  easily  seen  to  be 
erroneous.  *'  In  some  countries  the  interest  of  money  has  been 
prohibited  by  law.  Ent,  as  somethii>g  can  everywhere  be  made  by 
the  use  of  money,  something  ought  everywhere  to  be  paid  for  the 
use  of  it,"  and  will  in  fact  be  paid  for  it ;  and  the  prohibition  will 
only  heighten  the  evil  of  usury  by  increasing  the  risk  to  the  lender. 
The  legal  rate  should  be  a  very  little  above  the  lowest  market  rate  ; 
sober  people  will  then  be  preferred  as  borrowers  to  prodigals  and 
projectors,  who  at  a  higher  legal  I'ate  would  have  an  advantage 
over  them,  being  alone  willing  to  offer  that  higher  rate. 

As  to  the  different  employments  of  capital,  the  quantity  of  pro- 
ductive labour  put  in  motion  by  an  equal  amount  varies  extremely 
according  as  that  amount  is  employed — (1)  in  the  improvement  of 
lands,  mines  or  fisheries,  (2)  in  manufactures,  (3)  in  wholesale  or 
(4)  retail  trade.  In  agriculture  "  Nature  labours  along  with  man," 
and  not  only  the  capitjal  of  the  farmer  is  reproduced  with  his  pro- 
fits, but  also  the  rent  of  the  landlord.  It  is  therefore  the  employ- 
ment of  a  given  capital  which  is  most  advantageous  to  society. 
Next  in  order  come  manufactures  ;  then  wholesale  trade — first  the 
home  trade,  secondly  the  foreign  trade  of  consumption,  last  the 
carrying  trade.  All  these  employments  of  capital,  however,  are 
not  only  advantageous,  but  necessary,  and  will  introduce  them- 
selves in  the  due  degree,  if  they  are  left  to  the  spontaneous  action 
of  individual  enterprise. 

These  first  two  books  contain  Smith's  general  economic 
scheme;  and  we  have  stated  it  as  fully  as  w<.>s  consistent 
■with  the  brevity  here  necessary,  because  from  this  formu- 
lation of  doctrine  the  English  classical  school  set  out,  and 
round  it  the  discussions  of  more  recent  times  in  different 
countries  .have  in  a  great  measure  revolved.  Some  of  the 
criticisms  of  his  successors  and  their  modifications  of  his 
doctrines  will  come  under  our  notice  as  we  proceed. 

The  critical  philosophers  of  the  18th  century  were  often 
destitute  of  the  historical  spirit,  which  was  no  part  of  the 
endowment  needed  for  their  principal  social  office.  But 
some  of  the  most  eminent  of  them,  especially  in  Scotland, 
showed  a  marked  capacity  and  predilection  for  historical 
studies.  Smith  was  amongst  the  latter;  Knies  and  others 
justly  remark  on  the  masterly  sketches  of  this  kind  which 
occur  in  the  Wealth  of  Nations.  The  longest  and  most 
elaborate  of  these  occupies  the  third  book  ;  it  is  an  account 
of  the  course  followed  by  the  nations  of  modern  Europe 
in  the  successive  development  of  the  several  forms  of 
industry.  It  affords  a  curious  example  of  the  effect  of 
doctrinal  prepo.ssessions  in  obscuring  the  results  of  histori- 
cal inquiry.  Whilst  he  correctly  describes  the  European 
movement  of  industry,  and  explains  it  as  arising  out  of 
adequate  social  causes,  he  yet,  in  accordance  with  the 
absolute  principles  which  tainted  his  philosophy,  protests 
against  it  as  involving  an  entire  inversion  of  the  "  natural 
order  of  things."  First  agriculture,  then  manufactures, 
lastly  foreign  commerce ;  any  other  order  than  this  he 
considers  "  unnatural  and  retrograde."  Hume,  a  more 
purely  positive  thinker,  simply  sees  the  facts  accepts 
them,  and  classes  them  under  a  general  law.  "  It  is  a 
violent  method,"  he  says,  "and  in  most  cases  impractic- 
able, to  oblige  the  labourer  to  toil  in  order  to  raise  from 
the  land  more  than  what  subsists  himself  and  family. 
Furnish  him  with  manufactures  and  commodities,  and  he 


will  do  it  of  himself."  "  If  we  consult  history,  we  shall 
find  that,  in  most  nations,  foreign  trade  has  preceded  any 
refinement  in  home  manufactures,  and  given  birth  Ho 
domestic  lu.xury." 

The  fourth  book  is  principally  devoted  to  the  elaborate 
and  exhaustive  polemic  against  the  mercantile  system 
which  finally  drove  it  from  the  field  of  science,  and  has 
exercised  a  powerful  influence  on  economic  legislation. 
When  protection  is  now  advocated,  it  is  commonly  on 
different  grounds  from  those  which  were  in  current  use 
before  the  time  of  Smith.  He  believed  that  to  look  for 
the  restoration  of  freedom  of  foreign  trade  in  Great  Britain 
would  have  been  "as  absurd  as  to  expect  that  an  Oceana 
or  Utopia  should  be  established  iu  it ;"  yet,  mainly  in 
consequence  of  his  labours,  that  object  has  been  com- 
pletely attained ;  and  it  has  lately  been  said  with  justice 
that  free  trade  might  have  been  more  generally  accepted 
by  other  nations  if  the  patient  reasoning  of  Smith  had 
not  been  replaced  by  dogmatism.  His  teaching  on  the 
subject  is  not  altogether  unqualified  ;  but,  on  the  whole, 
with  respect  to  exchanges  of  every  kind,  where-  ecoiiomic 
motives  alone  entec,  his  voice  is  in  favour  of  freedom.  He 
has  regard,  however,  to  political  as  well  as  economic  inter- 
ests, and  on  the  ground  that  "  defence  is  of  much  more 
importance  than  opulence  "  pronounces  the  Navigation  Act 
to  have  been  "  perhaps  the  wisest  of  all  the  commercial 
regulations  of  England."  AVhilst  objecting  to  the  preven- 
tion of  the  export  of  wool,  he  proposes  a  tax  on  that 
export  as  somewhat  less  injurious  to  the  interest  of 
growers  than  the  prohibition,  whilst  it  would  "afford  a 
suflicient  advantage"  to  the  domestic  over  the  foreign 
manufacturer.  This  is,  perhaps,  his  most  marked  devia- 
tion from  the  rigour  of  principle ;  it  was  doubtless  a  con- 
cession to  popular  opinion  with  a  view  to  an  attainable 
practical  improvement.  The  wisdom  of  retaliation  in 
order  to  procure  the  repeal  of  high  duties  or  prohibitions 
imposed  by  foreign  Governments  depends,  he  says,  alto- 
gether on  the  likelihood  of  its  success  in  effecting  the 
object  aimed  at,  but  he  does  not  conceal  his  contempt  for 
the  practice  of  such  expedients.  The  restoration  of  freedom 
in  any  manufacture,  whsn  it  has  grown  to  considerable 
dimensions  by  means  of  high  duties,  should,  he  thinks, 
from  motives  of  humanity,  be  brought  about  only  by 
degrees  and  with  circumspection, — though  the  amount  of 
evil  which  would  be  caused  by  the  immediate  abolition  of 
the  duties  is,  in  his  opinion,  commonly  exaggerated.  The 
case  in  which  J.  S.  Mill  justified  protection- — that,  namely, 
in  which  an  industry  well-adapted  tO  a  country  is  kept 
down  by  the  acquired  ascendency  of  foreign  producers — is 
referred  to  by  Smith  ;  but  he  is  opposed  to  the  admission 
of  this  exception  for  reasons  which  do  not  appear  to  be 
conclusive  He  is  perhaps  scarcely  consistent  in  approving 
the  concession  of  temporary  monopolies  to  joint-stock  com- 
panies undertaking  risky  enterprises  "  of  which  the  public 
is  afterwards  to  reap  the  benefit."  ^ 

He  is  less  absolute  in  his  doctrine  of  Governmental  non- 
interference when  he  comes  to  consider  in  his  fifth  book 
the  "expenses  of  the  sovereign  or  the  commonwealth." 
He  recognizes  as  coming  within  the  functions  of  the  state 
the  erection  and  maintenance  of  those  public  institutions 
and  public  works  which,  though  advantageous  to  the 
society,  could  not  repay,  and  therefore  must  not  be  thrown 
upon,  individuals  or  small  groups  of  individuals.  He 
remarks  in  a  just  historical  spirit  that  the  performance 
of  these  functions  requires  very  different  degrees  of  ejt^ 
pense  in   the   different  periods   of  society.      Besides   the 

'  Professor  Bastable  calls  our  attention  to  the  interesting  fact  that 
the  proposal  of  an  export  duty  on  wool  and  the  justification  of  a  tem- 
porary monopoly  to  joint-stock  companies  both  appear  for  the  first 
time  in  the  edition  of  1784. 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


369 


institutions  and  works  intended  for  public  deience  and 
tlie  administration  of  justice,  and  those  required  for 
faciJitating  the  commerce  of  the  society,  he  considers 
those  necessary  for  promoting  the  instruction  of  the 
people.  He  thinks  the  public  at  large  may  with  propriety 
not  only  facilitate  and  encourage,  but  even  impose  upon 
almost  the  whole  body  of  the  people,  the  acquisition  in 
youth  of  the  most  essential  elements  of  education. ,,  He 
sitiggests  as  the  mode  of  enforcing  this  obligation  the 
requirement  of  submission  to  a  test  examination  "before 
any  one  could  obtain  the  freedom  in  any  corporation,  or 
be  allowed  to  set  up  a  trade  in  any  village  or  town  corpor- 
ate." Similarly,  he  is  of  opinion  that  some  probation, 
even  in  the  higher  and  more  difficult  sciences,  might  be 
enforced  as  a  condition  of  exercising  any  liberal  profession, 
or  becoming  a  candidate  for  any  honourable  office.  The 
^pense  of  the  institutions  for  religious  instruction  as  well 
as  for  general  eAcation,  he  holds,  may  without  injustice 
be  defrayed  out  of  the  funds  of  the  whole  society,  though 
he  would  apparently  prefer  that  it  should  be  met  by  the 
voluntary  contributions  of  those  who  think  they  have 
occasion  for  such  education  or  instruction.  There  is  much 
that  is  sound,  as  well  as  interesting  and  suggestive,  in  this 
fifth  book,  in  which  he  shows  a  political  inptinct  and  a 
breadth  of  view  by  which  he  is  favourably  contrasted  with 
the  Manchester  school.  But,  if  we  may  say  so  without 
disrespect  to  so  great  a  man,  there  are  traces  in  it  of 
what  is  now  called  Philistinism — a  low  view  of  the  ends 
of  art  and  poetry — which  arose  perhaps  in  part  from 
personal  defect,  though  it  was  common  enough  in  even  the 
higher  minds  in  his  century.  There  are  also  indications 
of  a  certain  deadness  to  the  lofty  aims  and  perennial  im- 
portance of  religion,  which  was  no  doubt  chiefly  due  to 
the  influences  of  an  age  when  the  critical  spirit  was  doing 
an  indispensable  work,  in  the  performance  of  which  the 
transitory  was  apt  to  be  confounded  with  the  permanent. 

For  the  sake  of  considering  as  a  whole  Smith's  view  of 
the  functions  of  government,  we  have  postponed  noticing 
his  treatment  of  the  physiocratic  system,  which  occupies  a 
part  of  his  fourth  book.  He  had  formed  the  acquaintance 
of  Quesnay,  Turgot,  and  other  members  of  their  group 
during  his  sojourn  in  Franco  in  1765,  and  would,  as  he 
told  Dugald  Stewart,  had  the  patriarch  of  the  school  lived 
long  enough,  have  dedicated  to  him  the  Wealth  of  Nations. 
He  declares  that,  with  all  its  imperfections,  the  system  of 
Quesnay  is  "  perhaps  the  nearest  approximation  to  the 
truth  that  had  yet  appeared  on  the  subject  of  political 
economy."  Yet  he  seems  not  to  be  adequately  conscious 
of  the  degree  of  coincidence  between  his  own  doctrines  and 
those  of  the  physiocrats.  Dupont  de  Nemours  complained 
that  he  did  not  do  Quesnay  the  justice  of  recognizing  him 
as  his  spiritual  father.  It  is,  however,  alleged,  on  the 
other  side,  that  already  in  1753  Smith  had  been  teaching 
as  professor  a  body  of  economic  doctrine  the  same  in  its 
broad  features  with  that  contained  in  his  great  work. 
This  is  indeed  .said  by  Stewart ;  and,  though  lie  gives  no 
evidence  of  it,  it  is  possibly  quite  true  ;  if  so.  Smith's  doc- 
trinal descent  must  be  traced  rather  from  Hume  than  from 
the  French  school.  The  principal  error  of  this  school,  that, 
namely,  of  representing  agricultural  labour  as  alone  produc- 
tive, he  refutes  in  the  fourth  book,  though  in  a  manner 
which  has  not  always  been  considered  effective.  Traces 
of  the  influence  of  their  mistaken  view  appear  to  remain 
in  his  own  work,  as,  for  example,  his  assertion  that  in 
agricultufo  nature  labours  along  with  man,  whilst  in 
manufactures  nature  does  nothing,  man  does  all ;  and  his 
distinction  between  productive  and  unproductive  labour, 
which  was  doubtless  suggested  by  their  use  of  those 
epithets,  and  which  seems  to  be  inconsistent  with  his 
recognition  of  what  is  now  called  "personal  capital."     To 


the  same  source  M'CuUoch  and  others  reTer  the  origin  of 
Smith's  view,  which  they  represent  as  an  obvious  error, 
that  "  individual  advantage  is  not  always  a  true  test  of 
the  public  advantageousness  of  different  employments." 
But  that  view  is  really  quite  correct,  a-s  Prof.  Nicholson 
has  recently  .made  plain.  That  the  form  taken  by  the  use 
of  capital,  profits  being  given,  is  not  indifferent  to  the 
working  class  as  a  whole  even  Ricardo  admitted ;  and 
Cairnes,  as  we  shall  see,  built  on  this  consideration  some 
of  the  most  far-reaching  conclusions  in  his  Leading  Prin- 
ciples. ( 

.  On  Smith's  theory  of  taxation  in  his  fifth  book  it  is  not 
necessary  for  us  to  dwell  (see  Taxation).  The  well-known 
canons  which  he  lays  down  as  prescribi.ig  the  essentials  of  a 
good  system  have  been  generally  accepted.  They  have  lately 
been  severely  criticized  by  Prof.  Walker — of  whose  objec- 
tions, however,  there  is  only  one  which  appears  to  be  well 
founded.  Smith  seems  to  favour  the  view  that  the  con- 
tribution of  the  individual  to  public  expenses  may  be 
regarded  as  payment  for  the  services  rendered  to  him  by 
the  state,  and  ought  to  be  proportional  to  the  extent  of 
those  services.  If  he  held  this  opinion,  which  some  of 
his  expressions  imply,  he  was  certainly  so  far  wrong  in 
principle. 

We  shall  not  be  held  to  anticipate  unduly  if  we  remark 
here  on  the  way  in  which  opinion,  revolted  by  the  aberra- 
tions of  some  of  Smith's  successors,  has  tended  to  turn 
from  the  disciples  to  the  master.  A  strong  sense  of  his 
comparative  freedom  from  the  vicious  tendencies  of  Ricardo 
and  his  followers  has  recently  prompted  the  suggestion 
that  we  ought  now  to  recur  to  Smith,  and  take  up  once 
more  from  him  the  line  of  the  economical  succession.  But 
notwithstanding  his  indisputable  superiority,  and  whilst 
fully  recognizing  the  great  services  rendered  by  his 
immortal  work,  we  must  not  forget  that,  as  has  been 
already  said,  that  work  was,  on  the  whole,  a  produot, 
though  an  exceptionally  eminent  one,  of  the  negative 
philosophy  of  the  last  century,  resting  largely  in  its  ulti-' 
mate  foundation  on  metaphysical  bases.  The  mind  of 
Smith  was  mainly  occupied  with  the  work  of  criticism  so 
urgent  in  his  time  ;  his  principal  task  was  to  discredit  and 
overthrow  the  economic  system  then  prevalent,  and  to 
demonstrate  the  radical  unfitness  of  the  existing  European 
Governments  to  direct  the  industrial  movement.  This 
office  of  his  fell  in  with,  and  formed  a  part  of,  the  general 
work  of  demolition  carried  on  by  the  thinkers  who  gave 
to  the  18th  century  its  characteristic  tone.  It  is  to  hi.s 
honour  that,  besides  this  destructive  operation,  ho  contri- 
buted valuable  elements  to  the  preparation  of  an  organic 
system  of  thought  and  of  life.  In  his  special  domain  he 
has  not  merely  extinguished  many  errors  and  prejudices, 
and  cleared  the  ground  for  truth,  but  has  left  us  a  per- 
manent possession  in  the  judicious  analyses  of  economic 
facts  and  ideas,  the  wi.se  practical  suggestions,  and  the 
luminous  indications  of  all  kinds,  with  which  his  work 
abounds.  Belonging  to  the  best  philosophical  school  of 
his  period,  that  with  .which  the  names  of  Humo  and 
Diderot  are  associated,  ho  tended  strongly  towards  the 
positive  point  of  view.  But  it  was  nofjiossible  for  him  to 
attain  it;  and  the  final  and  fully  normal  treatment  of  the 
economic  life  of  societies  must  bo  constituted  on  other  and 
more  lasting  foundations  than  those  which  underlie  his 
imposing  construction. 

It  has  been  well  said  that  of  philosophic  doctrines  the 
saying  "  by  their  fruit  ye  shall  know  them  "  is  eminently 
true.  And  it  cannot  bo  doubted  that  the  germs  of  the 
vicious  methods  and  false  or  cxaggcrate4  theories  of 
Smith's  8UCces.sors  arc  to  be  found  in  his  own  work,  though 
his  good  sense  and  practical  bent  prevented  bis  foPowing 
out  his  principles  to  their   extreme  conseqiiences.  ."  Tho 


370 


POLITICAL      E  C  0  N  O  i\l   y 


objections  of  Hildebrand  and  others  to  the  entire  historical 
development  of  doctrine  which  the  Germans  designate  as 
"Sinithianismus"  are  regarded  by  those  critics  as  applic- 
able, not  merely  to  his  school  as  a  whole,  but,  though  in  a 
less  degree,  to  himself.  The  following  are  the  most 
important  of  these  objections.  It  is  said — (1)  Smith's  con- 
ception of  the  social  economy  is  essentially  individualistic. 
In  this  he  falls  in  with  the  general  character  of  the  nega- 
tive philosophy  of  his  age.  That  philosophy,  in  its  roost 
typical__  forms,  even  denied  the  natural  existence  of  the 
disinterested  affections,  and  e.\plained  the  altruistic  feel- 
ings as  secondary  results  of  self-love.  _,  Smith,  however, 
like  Hume,  rejected  these  extreme  views;  and  hence  it 
has  been  held  that  in  the  Wealth  of  Nations  he  consciously, 
though'  tacitly,  abstracted  from  the  benevolent  principles 
in  human  ,  nature,  and  as  a  logical  artifice  supposed  an 
"  economic  man "  actuated  by  purely  selfish  motives. 
However  tliis  may  be,  he  certainly  places  himself  habitu- 
ally at  the  point  of  view  of  the  individual,  whom  he  treats 
»s  a  purely  egoistic  force,  working  uniformly  in  the  direc- 
tion of  private  gain,  without  regard  to  the  good  of  others 
or  of  the  community  at  large.  (2)  He  justifies  this  per- 
sonal attitude  by  its  consequences,  presenting  the  optimis- 
tic view  that  the  good  of  the  community  is  best  attained 
through  the  free  play  of  individual  cupidities,  provided 
only  the  law  prevents  the  interference  of  one  member  of 
the  society  with  the  self-seeking  action  of  another.  He 
assumes  with  the  negative  school  generally — though  he 
has  passages  which  are  not  in  harmony  with  these  proposi- 
tions— that  every  one  knows  his  true  interest  and  will 
pursue  it,  and  that  the  economic  advantage  of  the  indi- 
vidual coincides  with  that  of  the  society.  To  this  last 
conclusion  he  is  secretly  led,  as  we  have  seen,  by  a  priori 
theological  ideas,  and  also  by  metaphysical  conceptions  of 
a  supposed  system  of  nature,  natural  right,  and  natural 
liberty.  (3)  By  this  reduction  of  every  question  to  one  of 
individual  gain,  he  is  led  to  a  too  exclusive  consideration 
of  exchange  value  as  distinct  from  wealth  in  the  proper 
sense.  This,  whilst  lending  a  mechanical  facility  in  arriv- 
ing at  conclusions,  gives  a  superficial  character  to  economic 
investigation,  divorcing  it  from  the  physical  and  biological 
sciences,  excluding  the  question  of  real  social  utility, 
leaving  no  room  for  a  criticism  of  production,  and  leading 
to  a  denial,  like  J.  S.  Mill's,  of  any  economic  doctrine 
dealing  with  consumption — in  other  words,  with  the  use  of 
wealth.  (4)  In  condemning  the  existing  industrial  policy, 
he  tends  too  much  towards  a  glorification  of  non-govern- 
ment, and  a  repudiation  of  all  social  intervention  for  the 
regulation  of  economic  life.  (5)  He  does  not  keep  in  view 
the  moral  destination  of  our  race,  nor  regard  wealth  as  a 
means  to  the  higher  ends  of  life,  and  thus  incurs,  not 
altogether  unjustly,  the  charge  of  materialism,  in  the  wider 
sense  of  that  word.  Lastly,  (6)  his  whole  system  is  too 
absolute  in  its  character ;  it  does  not  sufficiently  recognize 
the  fact  that,  in  the  language  of  Hildebrand,  man,  as  a 
member  of  society,  is  a  child  of  civilization  and  a  product 
of  history,  and  that  account  ought  to  be  taken  of  the 
different  stages  of  social  development  as  implying  altered 
economic  conditions  and  calling  for  altered  economic 
action,  or  even  involving  a  modification  of  the  actor. 
Perhaps  iia  all  the  respects  here  enumerated,  certainly  in 
some  of  them  and  notably  in  the  last.  Smith  is  less  open 
to  criticism  than  most  of  the  later  English  economists  ;  but 
it  must,  we  think,  be  admitted  that  to  the  general  principles 
which  lie  at  the  basis  of  his  scheme  the  ultimate  growth 
of  these  several  vicious  tendencies  is  traceable.' 

Great  expectations  had  been  entertained" respecting 
Saaith's  work  by  competent  judges  before  its  publication, 
as  ■  is  shown  by  the  language  of  Ferguson  on  tlie  subject 
in  his  History/  of  Civil  oocieti/.     That  its  merits  received 


prompt  recognition  is  proved  by  the  fact  of  six  editions 
having  been  called  for  within  the  fifteen  years  after  its 
appearance.'  From  the  year  1783  it  was  more  and  more 
quoted  in  parliament.  Pitt  was  greatly  impressed  by  its 
reasonings ;  Smith  is  reported  to  have  said  that  that 
minister  understood  the  book  as  well  as  himself.  Pulteney 
said  in  1797  that  Smith  would  convince  the  then  living 
generation  and  would  rule  the  next. 

Smith's  earliest  critics  were  Bentham  and  Lauderdale, 
who,  though  in  general  agreement  with  him,  differed  on 
special  points.  Jeremy  Bentham  was  author  of  a  short 
treatise  entitled  A  Manual  of  Political  Economy  (1843), 
and  various  economic  monographs,  the  most  celebrated  of 
which  was  his  Defence  of  Ustiry  (1787).  This  contained 
(Letter  xiii.)  an  elaborate  criticism  of  a  passage  in  the 
Wealth  of  Rations,  already  cited,  in  which  Smith  had 
approved  of  a  legal  maximum  rate  of  ii^erest  fixed  but  a 
very  little  above  the  lowest  market  *e,  as  tending  to 
throw  the  capital  of  the  country  into  the  hands  of  sober 
persons,  as  opposed  to  "  prodigals  and  projectors."  Smith 
is  said  to  have  admitted  that  Bentham  had  made  out  his 
case.  He  certainly  argues  it  with  great  ability ;  and  the 
true  doctrine  no  doubt  is  that,  in  a  developed  industrial 
society,  it  is  expedient  to  let  the  rate  be  fixed  by  contract 
between  the  lender  and  the  borrower,  the  law  interfering 
only  in  case  of  fraud. 

Bentham's  main  significance  does  not  belong  to  the 
economic  field.  But,  on  the  one  hand,  what  is  known 
as  Benthamism  was  undoubtedly,  as  Comte  has  said,  a 
derivative  from  political  economy,  and  in  particular  from 
the  system  of  natural  liberty;  and,  on  the  other,  it  pro- 
moted the  temporary  ascendency  of  that  system  by  extend- 
ing to  the  whole  of  social  and  moral  theory  the  use  of  the 
principle  of  individual  interest  and  the  method  of  deduc- 
tion from  that  interest.  This  alliance  between  political 
economy  and  the  scheme  of  Bentham  is  seen  in  the 
personal  group  of  thinkers  which  formed  itself  round  him, 
— thinkers  most  inaptly  characterized  by  J.  S.  Mill  as 
"profound,"  bu-t  certainly  possessed  of  much  acuteness 
and  logical  power,  and  tending,  though  vaguely,  towards 
a  positive  sociology,  which,  from  their  want  of  genuinely 
scientific  culture  and  their  absolute  and  unhistorical  modes 
of  thought,  they  were  incapable  of  founding. 

Lord  Lauderdale,  in  his  Incjuiry  into  the  Nature  and 
Origin  of  Public  Wealth  (1804),  a  book  still  worth  read- 
ing, pointed  out  certain  real  weaknesses  in  Smith's  account 
of  value  and  the  measure  of  value,  and  of  the  productivity 
of  labour,  and  threw  additional  light  on  several  subjects, 
such  as  the  true  mode  of  estimating  the  national  income, 
and  the  reaction  of  the  distribution  of  wealth  on  its  pro- 
duction. 

Smith  stood  just  at  the  beginning  of  a  great  industrial 
revolution.  -  The  world  of  production  and  commerce  in 
whiih  he  lived  was  still,  as  Cliffe  Leslie  has  said,  a  "  very 

*  Five  editions  of  the  Wealth  of  Nations  appeared  duriog  the  life 
of  the  author; — the  second  in  1779,  the  third  in  1784,  the  fourth  in 
1786,  and  the  fifth  in  1789.  After  the  third  edition  Smith  made  no 
change  in  th»  text  of  his  work.  -  The  principal  editions  containing 
matter  added  by  other  economists  are  those  by  David  Buchanan,  with 
notes  and  an  additional  volume,  181i;  by  J.  II.  M'CulIoch,  with  life 
of  the  author,  introductory  discourse,  notes,  and  supplemental  disser- 
tations, 1S28  (also,  with  numerous  additions,  1839;  since  reprinted 
several  times  with  further  .idJitions);  by  the  author  of  England  and 
AmericaY,ivia.vA  Gibbon  Wakefield),  with  a  commentary,  which,  how- 
ever, is  not  continued  beyond  the  second  book,  1835-9  ;  by  James  E. 
Thorold  Rogers,  now  professor  of  political  economy  at  Oxford,  with 
biographical  preface  and  a  -careful  verification  of  all  Smith's  quota, 
tions  and  references,  1869  (2d  cd.,  1880)  ;  and  by  J.  S.  Nicholson, 
professor  at  Edinburgh,  with  notes  referring  to  sources  of  further 
information  on  the  various  topics  handled  in  the  text,  1884.  There 
is  a  careful  Abridgment  by  W.  P.  Emerton  (2d  ed.,  1881),  foUDded 
on  the  earlier  ^ nu/i^sis  of  Jeremiah  Joyce  (3d  ed.,  1821), 


POLITICAL     ECONOIMY 


371 


early  "  and  comparatively  narrow  one ;  "  the  only  steam- 
engine  he  refers  to  is  Newcomen's,"  and  the  cotton  trade 
is  mentioned  by  him  only  once,  and  that  incidentally. 
"Between  the  years  1760  and  1770,"  says  Mr  Marshall, 
"  Roebuck  began  to  smelt  iron  by  coal,  Brindley  connected 
the  rising  seats  of  manufactures  with  the  sea  by  canals, 
Wedgwood  discovered  the  art  of  making  earthenware 
pheaply  and  well,  Hargreaves  invented  the  spinning  jenny, 
Arkwright  utilized  Wyatt's  and  High's  inventions  for 
spinning  by  rollers  and  applied  water  power  to  move  them, 
and  Watt  invented  the  condensing  steam-engine.  Cromp- 
ton'a  mule  and  Cartwright's  powerloom  came  shortly 
pfter."  Out  of  this  rapid  evolution  followed  a  vast 
fixpa<^sion  of  industry,  but  also  many  deplorable  results, 
which,  had  Smith  been  able  to  foresee  them,  might  have 
made-  him  a  less  enthusiastic  believer  in  the  benefits  to 
be  wrought  by  the  mere  liberation  of  effort,  and  a  less 
vehement  denouncer  of  old  institutions  which  in  their  day 
had  given  a  partial  protection  to  labour.  Alongside  of 
these  evils  of  the  new  industrial  system,  socialism  appeared 
as  the  alike  inevitable  and  indispensable  expression  of  the 
protest  of  the  working  classes  and  the  aspiration  after  a 
better  order  of  things ;  and  what  we  now  call  "  the  social 
question,"  that  inexorable  problem  of  modern  life,  rose 
into  the  place  which  it  has  ever  since  maintained.  This 
question  was  first  effectually  brought  before  the  English 
nind  by  Thomas  Robert  Maltbus  (1766-1834),  not,  how- 
Bver,  under  the  impulse  of  revolutionary  sympathies,  but 
(n  the  interests  of  a  conservative  policy. 

The  first  edition  of  the  work  which  achieved  this  result 
appeared  anonymously  in  1798  under  the  title — An  Essay 
on  t/te  Principle  of  Population,  as  it  affects  the  future 
improvement  of  Sariety,  with  remarks  on  the  speculations  of 
Mr  Godvnn,,  M.  Condorcet,' and  other  writers.  This  book 
arose  out  of  certain  private  controversies  of  its  author 
With  his  father  Daniel  Malthus,  who  had  been  a  friend  of 
Rousseau,  and  wa.j  aa  ardent  believer  in  the  doctrine  of 
human  progress  asi  p-eached  by  Condorcet  and  other 
French  thinkers  and  by  their  English  disciples.  The 
most  distinguished  of  the  latter  was  William  Godwin, 
.whose  Enquiry  coyicernini/  Political  Justice  had  been  pub- 
lished in  1793.  The  views  put  forward  in  that  work  had 
been  restated  by  its  author  m  the  Etiquirer  (1797),  and 
it  was  on  the  essay  in  this  volume  entitled  "  Avarice  and 
Profusion  "  that  the  discussion  between  the  father  and  the 
son  arose,  "  iho  general  quesdan  of  the  future  improve^ 
ment  of  society  "  being  thus  yi»ised  between  them — the 
elder  Malthus  defending  the  dociiines  of  Godwin,  and  the 
younger  assailing  them.  The  laU<r  "  sat  down  with  an 
intention  of  merely  stating  his  thofights  on  paper  in  a 
clearer  manner  than  he  thought  he  eould  do  in  conversa- 
tion," and  the  Essay  on  population  was  the  result. 

The  social  scheme  of  Godwin  was  founded  on  the  idea 
that  the  evils  of  society  arise  from  the  vices  of  human 
institutions.  There  is  more  than  enough  cf  wealth  avail- 
ftble  for  all,  but  it  is  not  equally  shared:  one  has  too 
much,  another  has  little  or  nothing.'  Let  this  wealth,  as 
well  as  the  labour  of  producing  it,  be  aqually  divided ; 
then  everyone  will  by  moderate  exertion  obtain  sufficient 
for  plain  living ;  there  will  be  abundant  Jeisuro,  which 
|Will  be  spent  in  intellectual  and  moral  self-improvement; 
reason  will  determine  human  actions ;  government  and 
every  kind  of  force  will  be  unnecessary ;  and,  in  time,  by 
the  peaceful  influence  of  truth,  perfection  and  happiness 
will  bo  established  on  earth.  To  these  glowing  anticipa- 
tions Malthus  opposes  the  facts  of  the  necessity  of  food, 
and  the  tendency  of  mankind  to  increase  up  to  the  limit 
of  the  available  supply  of  it.  In  a  state  of  universal 
physical  wellbeing,  this  tendency,  which  in  real  life  is  held 
»a  check  by  the  difficulty  of  procuring  a  subsistence,  would 


operate  without  restraint.  Scarcity  would  follow  the 
increase  of  numbers ;  the  leisure  would  soon  cease  to 
exist  J  the  old  struggle  for  life  would  recommence ;  and 
inequality  would  reign  once  more.  If  Godwin's  ideal 
system,  therefore,  could  be  established,  the  single  force  of 
the  principle  of  population,  Malthus  maintained,  would 
suffice  to  break  it  down. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  essay  was  written  with  a  pole- 
mical object ;  it  was  an  occasional  pamphlet  directed 
against  the  Utopias  of  the  day,  not  at  all  a  systematic 
treatise  on  population  suggested  by  a  purely  scientific 
interest.  As  a  polemic,  it  was  decidedly  successful ;  it 
was  no  difficult  task  to  dispose  of  the  scheme  of  equality 
propounded  by  Godwin.  Already,  in  1761,  Dr  Robert 
Wallace  had  published  a  work  (which  was  used  by  Malthus 
in  the  composition  of  his  essay)  entitled  Various  Prospects 
of  Mankind,  Nature,  and  Providence,  in  which,  after  speak- 
ing of  a  community  of  goods  as  a  remedy  for  the  ills  of 
society,  he  confessed  that  he  saw  one  fatal  objection  to 
such  a  social  organization,  namely,  "  the  excessive  popula- 
tion that  would  ensue."  With  Condorcet's  extravagances, 
too,  Malthus  easily  dealt.  That  eminent  man,  amidst  the 
tempest  of  the  French  Revolution,  had  written,  whilst  in 
hiding  from  his  enemies,  his  Esquisse  d'un  tableau  histori- 
que  de  I'esprit  humain.  The  general  conception  of  this 
book  makes  its  appearance  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  the 
rise  of  sociology.  In  it,  if  we  except  some  partial  sketches 
by  Turgot,  is  for  the  first  time  explained  the  idea  of  a 
theory  of  social  dynamics  founded  on  history  ;  and  its 
author  is  on  this  ground  recognized  by  Comte  as  his  prin- 
cipal immediate  predecessor.  But  in  the  execution  of  his 
great  project  Condorcet  failed.  His  negative  metaphysics 
prevent  his  justly  appreciating  the  past,  and  Le  indulges, 
at  the  close  of  his  work,  in  vague  hypotheses  respecting 
the  perfectibility  of  our  race,  and  in  irrational  expectations 
of  an  indefinite  extension  of  the  duration  of  human  life. 
Malthus  seems  to  have  little  sense  of  the  nobleness  of 
Condorcet's  attitude,  and  no  appreciation  of  the  grandeur 
of  his  leading  idea.  But  of  his  chimerical  hopes  he  is 
able  to  make  short  work ;  his  good  sense,  if  somewhat 
limited  and  prosaic,  is  at  least  effectual  in  detecting  and 
exposing  Utopias. 

The  project  of  a  formal  and  detailed  treatise  on  poptila- 
tion  was  an  afterthought  of  Malthus.  The  essay  in  which 
he  had  studied  a  hypothetic  future  led  him  to  examine  the 
effects  of  the  principle  he  had  put  forward  on  the  past  and 
present  state  of  .society ;  and  he  undertook  an  historical 
examination  of  these  effects,  and  sought  to  draw  such 
inferences  in  relation  to  the  actual  state  of  things  as 
experience  seemed  to  warrant.  The  consequence  of  this 
was  such  a  change  in  the  nature  and  composition  of  the 
essay  as  made  it,  in  his  own  language,  'a  new  work." 
The  book,  so  altered,  appeared  in  1803  under  the  title — 
An  Essay  on  the  Principle  of  Population,  or  a  view  of  iit 
Past  and  Present  Effects  on  Human  Happiness;  ivkh  an 
Enquiry  into  our  prospects  respecting  the  future  removal  or 
mitigation  of  the  evils  which  it  occasions. 

In  the  original  form  of  the  essay  ho  had  spoken  of  no 
checks  to  jiopulation  but  those  which  came  under  the  head 
either  of  vice  or  of  misery.  He  now  introduces  the  new 
element  of  the  preventive  check  supplied  by  what  ho  calls 
"moral  restraint,"  and  is  thus  enabled  to  "  soften  some 
of  the  harshest  conclusions"  at  which  he  had  before 
arrived.  The  treatise  pas.sed  through  six  editions  in  liis 
lifetime,  and  in  all  of,  them  he  introduced  various  additions 
and  corrections.  That  of  1816  is  the  last  Le  revised, 
and  supplies  the  final  text  from  which  it  has  since  been 
reprinted.  \ 

^Notwithstanding  the  great  development  which  he  gav» 
to   his   work   and  the  alraost'Unprcccdcntcd   amouot  ot 


572 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


discussion  to  which  it  gave  rise,  it  remains  a  matter  of 
some  difficulty  to  discover  what  solid  contribution  he  has 
made  to  our  knowledge,  nor  is  it  easy  to  ascertain  precisely 
what  practical  precepts,  not  already  familiar,  he  founded 
on  his  theoretic  princi^fles.  This  twofold  vagueness  is 
■well  brought  out  in  his  celebrated  correspondence  with 
Senior,  in  the  course  of  which  it  seems  to  be  made  appar- 
ent that  his  doctrine  is  new  not  so  much  in  its  essence  as 
in  the  phraseology  in  which  it  is  couched.  He  himself 
tells  us  that  when,  after  the  publication  of  the  original 
essay,  the  main  argument  of  which  he  had  deduced  from 
Hume,  Wallace,  Smith,  and  Price,  he  began  to  inquire 
more  clossly  into  the  subject,  he  found  that  "  much  more 
had  been  done"  upon  it  "than  he  had  been  aware  of." 
It  had  "  been  treated  in  such  a  manner  by  some  of  the 
French  economists,  occasionally  by  Montesquieu,  and, 
among  our  own  writers,  by  Dr  Franklin,  Sir  James 
Steuart,  Mr  Arthur  Young,  and  Mr  Townsend,  as  to  create 
a  natural  surprise  that  it  had  not  excited  more  of  the 
public  attention."  "Much,  however,"  he  thought,  "re- 
mained yet  to  be  done.  The  comparison  between  the 
increase  of  population  and  food  had  not,  perhaps,  been 
stated  with  sufficient  force  and  precision,"  and  "few 
inquiries  had  been  made  into  the  various  modes  by  which 
the  level "  between  population  and  the  means  of  subsist- 
ence "  is  effected."  The  first  desideratum  here  mentioned 
— the  want,  namel/,  of  an  accurate  statement  of  the  rela- 
tion between  the  increase  of  population  and  food — Malthus 
doubtless  supposed  to  have  been  supplied  by  the  celebrated 
proposition  that  "  population  increases  in  a  geometrical, 
food  in  an  arithmetical  ratio."  This  proposition,  however, 
has  been  conclusively  shown  to  be  erroneous,  there  being  no 
such  difference  of  law  between  the  increase  of  man  and  that 
of  the  organic  beings  which  form  his  food.  J.  S.  Mill  is 
indignant  with  those  who  criticize  Malthus's  formula,  which 
he  groundlessly  describes  as  a  mere  "passing  remark," 
because,  as  he  thinks,  though  erroneous,  it  sufficiently 
suggests  what  is  true  ;  but  it  is  surely  important  to  detect 
unreal  science,  and  to  test  strictly  the  foundations  of 
beliefs.  When  the  formula  whici^  we  have  cited  is  not 
used,  other  somewhat  nebulous  e.xpressions  are  sometimes 
employed,  as,  for  example,  that  "  population  has  a  tend- 
ency to  increase  faster  than  food,"  a  sentence  in  which 
both  are  treated  as  if  they  were  spontaneous  growths,  and 
which,  on  account  of  the  ambiguity  of  the  word  "  tend- 
ency," is  admittedly  consistent  with  the  fact  asserted  by 
Senior,  that  food  tends  to  increase  faster  than  population. 
It  must  always  have  been  perfectly  well  known  that 
population  will  probably  (though  not  necessarily)  increase 
with  every  augmentation  of  the  supply  of  subsistence,  and 
may,  in  some  instances,  inconveniently  press  upon,  or 
even  for  a  certain  time  exceed,  the  number  properly  corre- 
sponding to  that  supply.  Nor  could  it  ever  have  been 
doubted  that  war,  disease,  poverty — the  last  two  often 
the  consequences  of  vice — are  causes  which  keep  popula- 
tion down.  In  fact,  the  way  in  which  abundance,  increase 
of  numbers,  want,  increase  of  deaths,  succeed  each  other 
in  the  natural  economy,  when  reason  does  not  intervene, 
had"been  fully  explained  by  the  Rev.  Joseph  Townsend  in 
his  Dissertation  on  the  Poor  Laws  (1786),  which  was 
known  to  Malthus.  Again,  it  is  surely  plain  enough  that 
the  apprehension  by  individuals  of  the  evils  of  poverty, 
or  a  sense  of  duty  to  their  possible  offspring,  may  retard 
the  increase  of  population,  and  has  in  all  civilized  com- 
munities operated  to  a  certain  extent  in  that  way.  ■  It  is 
only  when  such  obvious  truths  are  clothed  in  the  techni- 
cal terminology  of  "  positive  "' and  "preventive  checks." 
that  they  appear  novel  and  profound  ;  and  yet  they  appear 
to  contain  the  whole  message  of  Malthus  to  mankind. 
11)1.9  Jftborious  apparatus  of  historical  and  statistical  facts 


respecting  the  several  countries  of  the  globe,  adduced  iq 
the  altered  form  of  the  essay,  though  it  contains  a  good 
deal  that  is  curious  and  interesting,  establishes  no  general 
result  which  was  not  previously  well  known,  and  is  accord- 
ingly ignored  by  James  Mill  and  others,  who  rest  the 
theory  on  facts  patent  to  universal  observation.  ^  Indeed,' 
as  we  have  seen,  the  entire  historical  inquiry  was  an  after- 
thought of  Malthus,  who,  before  entering  on  it,  had  already 
announced  his  fundamental  principle. 

It  would  seem,  then,  that  what  has  been  ambitiously 
called  Malthus's  theory  of  population,  instead  of  being  a 
great  discovery,  as  some  have  represented  it,  or  a  poisonous 
novelty,  as  others  have  considered  it,  is  no  more  than  a 
formal  enunciation  of  obvious,  though  sometimes  neglected,' 
facts.  The  pretentious  language  often  applied  to  it  by, 
economists  is  objectionable,  as  being  apt  to  make  us  forget 
that  the  \T4iole  subject  with  which  it  deals  is  as  yet  very 
imperfectly  understood — the  causes  which  modify  the 
force  of  the  sexual  instinct,  and  those  which  lead  to 
variations  iu  fecundity,  still  awaitine  a  complete  investiga- 
tion. 

It  is  the  law  of  diminishing  returns  from  land  (of  which 
we  shall  hear  more  hereafter),  involving  as  it  does — though 
only  hypothetically — the  prospect  of  a  continuously  in- 
creasing difficulty  in  obtaining  the  necessary  sustenance 
for  all  the  members  of  a  society,  that  gives  the  principal 
importance  to  population  as  an  economic  factor.  It  is,  ia 
fact,  the  confluence  of  the  Malthusian  ideas  with  the  theories 
of  Ricardo,  especially  with  the  corollaries  which  the  latter, 
as  we  shall  see,  deduced  from  the  doctrine  of  rent  (though 
these  were  not  accepted  by  Malthus),  that  has  led  to  the 
introduction  of  population  as  an  element  in  the  discussion 
of  so  many  economic  questions  in  recent  times. 

Malthus  had  undoubtedly  the  great  merit  of  having 
called  public  attention  in  a  striking  and  impressive  way  to 
a  subject  which  had  neither  theoretically  nor  practically 
been  sufficiently  considered.  But  he  and  his  followers 
appear  to  have  greatly  exaggerated  both  the  magnitude 
and  the  urgency  of  the  dangers  to  which  they  pointed. '  In 
their  conceptions  a  single  social  imperfection  assumed  such 
portentous  dimensions  that  it  seemed  to  overcloud  the 
whole  heaven  and  threaten  the  world  with  ruin.  This 
doubtless  arose  from  his  having  at  first  omitted  altogether 
from  his  view  of  the  question  the  great  counteracting 
agency  of  moral  restraint.  Because  a  force  exists,  capable, 
if  unchecked,  of  producing  certain  results,  it  does  not 
follow  that  those  results  are  imminent  or  even  possible  in 
the  sphere  of  experience.  A  body  thrown  from  the  hand 
would,  under  the  single  impulse  of  projection,  move  for 
ever  in  a  straight  line  ;  but  it  would  not  be  reasonable  to 
take  special  action  for  the  prevention  of  this  result,  ignor- 
ing the  fact  that  it  will  be  sufficiently  counteracted  by  the 
other  forces  which  will  come  into  play.  And  such  other 
forces  exist  in  the  case  we  are  considering.  If  the 
inherent  energy  of  the  principle  of  population  (supposed 
everywhere  the  same)  is  measured  by  the  rate  at  which' 
numbers  increase  under  the  most  favourable  circumstances," 
surely  the  force  of  less  favourable  circumstances,  acting 
through  prudential  or  altruistic  motives,  is  measured  by  the 
great  difference  between  this,  maximum  rate  and  those' 
which  are  observed  to  prevail  in  most  European  countries.* 
Under  a  rational  system  of  institutions,  the  adaptation  of 
numbers  "-to  the  means  available  for  their  support  is 
effected  by  the  felt  or  anticipated  pressure  of  circumstances 
and  the  fear  of  social  degradation,  ^  within  a  tolerable 
degree  of  approximation   to  what  is  desirable.  *,,  To  bring 

the  result  nearer  to  the  just  standard,  a  higher  measure  of 

^ . -1 

-•  '  Malthus  himself  said,  "  It  is  probable  that,  having  found  the  how 
bent  too  much  one  way,  I  was  induced  to  bend  it  too  much  the  othei 
in  Older  to  make  it  straight." 


POLITICAL      EC0N0  31Y 


373 


popular  enlightenment  and  more  serious  habits  of  moral 
reliexion  ought  indeed  to  be  encouraged.  But  it  is  the 
duty  of  the  individual  to  his  possible  offspring,  and  not 
any  vague  notions  as  to  the  pressure  of  the  national  popu- 
lation on  subsistence,  that  will  be  adequate  to  influence 
conduct. 

The  only  obligation  on  which  Malthus  insists  is  that  of  abstinence 
from  marriage  so  long  as  the  necessary  provision  for  a  family  has 
not  been  acquired  or  cannot  be  reasonably  anticipated.  The  idea. 
of  post-nuptial  continence,  which  has  since  been  put  forward  by 
J.  S.  Mill  and  others,  is  foreign  to  his  view.  He  even  suggests 
that  an  allowance  might  be  made  from  the  public  funds  for  every 
child  in  a  family  beyond  the  number  of  six,  on  the  ground  that, 
when  a  man  marries,  he  cannot  tell  how  many  children  he  shall 
liave,  and  that  the  relief  from  an  unlooked-for  distress  afforded  by 
such  a  grant  would  not  operate  as  an  encouragement  to  marriage. 
The  duty  of  economic  prudence  in  entering  on  the  married  state  is 
plain ;  but  in  the  case  of  working  men  the  idea  of  a  secured  pro- 
vision must  not  be  unduly  pressed,  and  it  must  also  be  remembered 
that  the  proper  age  for  marriage  in  any  class  depends  on  the  dura- 
tion of  lite  in  that  class.  Too  early  inarfiages,  however,  are 
certainly  not  unfrequeut,  and  they  are  attended  with  other  than 
material  evils,  so  that  possibly  even  legal  measures  might  with 
advantage  be  resorted  to  for  preventing  them  in  all  ranks  by  some- 
what postponing  the  age  of  full  civil  competence.  On  the  other 
hand,  however,  the  Malthusians  often  speak  too  lightly  of  involun- 
tary celibacy,  not  recognizing  sufficiently  that  it  is  a  deplorable 
necessity.  They  do  not  adequately  estimate  the  value  of  domestic 
life  as  a  schoo^^of  the  civic  virtues,  and  the  social  importance  (even 
ajmrt  from  personal  happiness)  of  the  mutual  affective  education 
arising  from  the  relations  of  the  sexes  in  a  well-constituted  union. 

Malthus  further  infers  from  his  principles  that  states  should  not 
artificially  stimulate  population,  and  in  particular  that  poor-laws 
should  not  be  established,  and,  where  they  exist,  should  be  abolis|ied. 
The  first  part  of  this  proposition  cannot  be  accepted  as  applying  to 
every  social  phase,  for  it  is  evident  that  in  a  case  like  that  of  ancient 
Rome,  where  continuous  conquest  was  the  chief  occupation  of  tlie 
national  activity,  or  in  other  periods  when  protracted  wars  threatened 
the  independence  or  security  of  nations,  statesmen  might  wisely  take 
speci.al  action  of  the  kind  deprecated  by  Malthus.  In  relation  to 
modern  industrial  communities  he  is  doubtless  in  general  riglit, 
though  the  piomotion  of  immigration  in  new  states  is  similar 
in  principle  to  the  encouragement  of  population.  The  question 
of  poor-laws  involves  other  considerations.  The  English  system 
of  his.  day  was  certainly  a  vicious  one,  though  acting  in  some 
degree  as  a  corrective  of  other  evils  in  our  social  institutions ;  and 
ofibrts  for  its  amendment  tended  to  the  public  good.  But  the  pro- 
posal of  abolition  is  one  from  which  statesmen  have  recoiled,  and 
which  general  ojiinion  has  never  adopted.  It  is  difficult  to  believe 
that  the  present  system  will  be  permanent;  it  is  too  mechanical 
and  undiscriminating;  on  some  sides  too  lax,  it  is  often  unduly 
rigorous  in  the  treatment  of  the  worthy  poor  who  are  the  victims 
of  misfortune  ;  and,  in  its  ordinary  modes  of  dealing  with  the 
young,  it  is  open  to,  grave  objection.  But  it  would  certainly  bo  rash 
to  abolish  it ;  it  is  one  of  several  institutions  which  will  more  wisely 
be  retained  until  the  whole  subject  of  the  life  of  the  working  classes 
ha*  been  more  thoroughly,  and  also  more  sympathetically,  studied. 
The  position  of  Malthus  with  respect  to  the  relief  of  destitution  is 
subject  to  this  general  criticisnr  that,  first  proving  too  much,  ho 
then  shrinks  from  the  consequences  of  his  own  logic.  It  follows 
from  his  arguments,  and  is  indeed  explicitly  stated  in  a  celebrated 
passage  of  his  original  essay,  that  he  who  has  brought  children  into 
the  world  without  adequate  provision  for  them  should  bo  left  to  the 
punishment  of  Nature,  that  "  it  is  a  miserable  ambition  to  wish  to 
snatch  the  rod  from  her  hand, "and  to  defeat  the  action  of  her  laws, 
which  are  the  laws  of  God,  and  wliich  "  have  doomed  him  and  his 
family  to  sulfer."  Though  his  theory  leads  him  to  this  conclusion, 
lie  could  not,  as  a  Christian  clergyman,  maintain  the  doctrine 
that,  seeing  our  brother  in  need,  we  ought  to  shut  up  our  bowels  of 
compassion  from  him  ;  and  thus  he  is  involved  in  the  radical  incon- 
sequence of  admitting  the  lawfulness,  if  not  the  duty,  of  relieving 
distress,  whilst  he  yet  must  regard  the  act  as  doing  mischief  to 
society.  Buckle,  who  was  imposed  on  by  more  than  one  of  the 
exaggerations  of  tho  economists,  accepts  tho  logical  inference  which 
jMalthus  evaded.  He  alleges  that  the  only  ground  on  which  we 
Bro  justified  in  relieving  destitution  is  tho  essentially  self-rej;arding 
|onc,  that  by  remaining  deaf  to  the  appeal  of  the  sulferer  wo  should 
probably  blunt  the  edge  of  our  own  finer  sensibilities. 

It  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  the  favour  which  was 
at  once  accorded  to  the  views  of  Malthu-s  in  certain  circles 
was  due  in  part  to  an  impression,  very  welcome  to  the 
higher  ranks  of  society,  that  they  tended  to  relieve  the 
rich  and  ["-werful  of  responsibility  for  tho  condition  of  the 
Iworking  classes,  by  showing  that  the  latter  had  chiefly 


themselves  to  blame,  and  not  either  the  negligence  of  theii| 
superiors  or  the  institutions  of  the  country.  The  applicai 
tion  of  his  doctrines,  too,  made  by  some  of  his  successors 
had  the  effect  of  discouraging  all  active  effort  for  social 
improvement.  Thus  Chalmers  "  reviews  seriatim  aild 
gravely  sets  aside  all  the  schemes  usually  proposed  for  the 
amelioration  of  the  economic  condition  of  the  people  "  on 
the  ground  that  an  increase  of  comfort  will  lead  to  an 
increase  of  numbers^  and  so  the  last  state  of  things  will  ba 
worse  than  the  first. 

Malthus  has  in  more  recent  times  derived  a  certaitv 
degree  of  reflected  lustre  from  the  rise  and  wide  acceptance, 
of  the  Darwinian  hypothesis.  Its  author  himself,  irf 
tracing  its  filiation,  points  to  the  phrase  "  struggle  for 
existence  "  used  by  Malthus  in  relation  to  the  social  com- 
petition. Darwin  believes  that  man  has  advanced  to  hi* 
present  high  condition  through  such  a  struggle,  consequent 
on  his  rapid  multiplication.  He  regards,  it  is  true,  tho 
agency  of  this  cause  for  the  improvement  of  our  race  as 
largely  superseded  by  moral  influences  in  the  more 
advanced  social  stages.  Yet  he  considers  it,  even  in  these 
stages,  of  so  much  importance  towards  that  end  that,  not- 
withstanding the  individual  suffering  arising  from  the 
struggle  for  life,  he  deprecates  any  great  reduction  in  the 
natural,  by  which  he  seems  to  mean  the  ordinary,  rate  of 
increase. 

Tliere  has  been  of  late  exhibited  in  some  quarters  a 
tendency  to  apply  the  doctrine  of  the  "  survival  of  the. 
fittest  "  to  human  society  in  such  a  way  as  to  intensify  tho 
harsher  features  of  Malthus's  exposition  by  encouraging 
the  idea  that  whatever  cannot  sustain  itself  is  fated,  and 
must  be  allowed,  to  disappear.  But  what  is  reiiellent  in 
this  conception  is  removed  by  a  wider  view  of  the  influence 
of  Humanity,  as  the  presiding  race,  alike  on  vital  and  on 
social  conditions.  As  in  the  general  animal  domain  the 
supremacy  of  man  introduces  a  now  force  consciously  con- 
trolling and  ultimately  determining  the  destinies  of  the 
subordinate  species,  so  human  providence  in  the  social 
sphere  can  intervene  for  the  protection  of  the  weak,  modi- 
fying by  its  deliberate  action  what  would  otherwise  be  a 
mere  contest  of  comparative  strengths  inspired  by  selfish 
instincts. 

David  Ricardo  (1772-1823)  is  essentially  of  the  school! 
of  Smith,  whose  doctrines  he  in  the  main  accepts,  whilst: 
he  seeks  to  develop  them,  and  to  correct  them  in  certain 
particulars.  But  his  mode  of  treatment  is  very  different 
from  Smith's.  Tho  latter  aims  at  keeping  close  to  the 
realities  of  life  as  he  finds  them, — at  representing  the  con- 
ditions and  relations  of  men  and  thing.s  as  they  are  ;  and, 
as  Hume  remarked  on  first  reading  his  great  work,  his 
principles  are  everywhere  exeniiilified  and  illustrated  with 
curious  facts.  Quite  unlike  this  is  tho  way  in  which' 
Ricardo  proceeds.  He  moves  in  a  world  of  abstractions.' 
Ho  sets  out  from  more  or  less  arbitrary  assumptions,! 
reasons  deductively  from  these,  and  announces  his  conclu-( 
sions  as  true,  without  allowing  for  the  partial  unreality  of 
tho  conditions  assumed  or  confronting  his  results  with! 
experience.  When  he  seeks  to  illustrate  his  doctrines,  it 
is  from  hypothetical  eases, — his  favourite  device  being  that 
of  imagining  two  contracting  savages,  and  considering  how 
they  would  be  likely  to  act.  He  does  not  explain — prob* 
ably  he  had  not  systematically  examined,  perhaps  was 
not  competent  to  examine — tho  appropriate  method  ok 
political  economy;  and  the  theoretic  defence  of  his  mode 
of  proceeding  wus  left  to  be  elaborated  by  J.  S.  Mill  an(i 
Cairnes.  But  h>s  example  had  a  great  effect  in  determin-^ 
ing  the  practico  of  his  successors.  There  was  something 
highly  attractivM  to  the  ambitious  theorist  in  tho  sweeping' 
march  of  logic  which  seemed  in  Ricardo's  hands  to  cmulatei 
the    certainty    and    comprehensiveness   of    malhematicali 


374 


POLITICAL     ECONOMi^ 


proof,  and  in  the  portable  and  pregnant  formulas  which 
were  so  convenient  in  argument,  and  gave  a  prompt,  if 
often  a  more  ap[)arent  than  real,  solution  of  difficult 
problems.  Whatever  there  was  of  false  or  narrow  in  the 
fundamental  positions  of  Smith  had  been  in  a  great  degree 
corrected  by  his  practical  sense  and  strong  instinct  for 
reality,  but  was  brought  out  in  its  full  dimensions  and 
even  exaggerated  in  the  abstract  theorems  of  Ricardo  and 
his  followers. 

The  dangers  inherent  in  his  method  were  aggravated  by 
the  extreme  loosen^s  of  his  phraseology.  Senior  pro- 
nounces him  "  the  most  incorrect  writer  who  ever  attained 
philosophical  eminence."  His  most  ardent  admirers  find 
him  fluctuating  and  uncertain  in  the  use  of  words,  and 
generally  trace  his  errors  to  a  confusion  between  the 
ordinary  employment  of  a. terra  and  some  special  applica- 
tion of  it  which  he  has  himself  devised. 

The  most  complete  exposition  of  his  system  is  to  De 
found  in  his  I'rinciplei  of  Political  Economy  and  Taxation 
(1817).  This  work  is  not  a  complete  treatise  on  the 
science,  but  a  rather  loosely  connected  series  of  disquisi- 
tions on  value  and  price,  rent,  wages  and  profits,  taxes, 
trade,  money  and  banking.  Yet,  though  the  connexion  of 
the  parts  is  loose,  the  same  fundamental  ideas  recur  con- 
tinually, and  determine  the  character  of  the  entire  scheme. 

The  principal  problem  to  which  he  addresses  himself  ia 
this  work  is  that  of  distribution, — that  is  to  say,  the  pro- 
portions of  the  whole  produce  of  the  country  which  will  be 
allotted  to  the  proprietor  of  land,  to  the  capitalist,  and  to 
the  labourer.  And  it  is  important  to  observe  that  it  is 
especially  the  variations  in  their  respective  portions  which 
take  place  in  the  progress  of  society  that  he  professes  to 
study, — one  of  the  most  unhistorical  of  writers  thus  in- 
dicating a  sense  of  the  necessity  of  a  doctrine  of  economic 
dynamics — a  doctrine  which,  from  his  point  of  view,  it 
was  impossible  to  supply. 

The  principle  which  he  puts  first  in  order,  and  which  is  indeed  the 
key  to  the  whole,  is  this — that  the  exchange  value  of  any  commodity 
the  supply  of  which  can  be  increased  at  will  is  regulated,  under  a 
regime  o£  free  competition,  by  the  labour  necessary  for  its  production. 
Similar  propositions  are  to  be  found  in  the  Wealth  of  Nations,  not 
to  speak  of  earlier  English  writings.  Smith  had  said  that,  "  in  the 
early  and  rude  state  of  society  which  precedes  both  the  accumula- 
tion of  stock  and  the  appropriation  of  land,  the  proportion  between 
the  quantities  of  labour  necessary  for  acquiring  different  objects 
seems  to  be  the  only  circumstance  which  can  afford  any  rule  for 
exchanging  them  with  one  another."  But  Ite  wavers  in  his  con- 
ception, and  presents  as  the  measure  of  value  sometimes  the 
quantity  of  labour  necessary  for  the  production  of  the  object,  some- 
times the  quantity  of  labour  which  the  object  would  command  in 
the  market,  which  are  'identical  only  for  a  given  time  and  place. 
The  theorem  requires  correction  for  a  developed  social  system  by 
the  introduction  of  the  consideration  of  capital,  and  takes  tho  form 
in  which  it  is  elsewhere  quoted  from  Malthus  by  Kicardo,  that  the 
real  price  of  a  commodity  "depends  on  the  greater  or  less  quantity 
of  capital  and  labour  which  must  be  employed  to  produce  it.  (The 
expression  "quantity  of  capital"  is  lax,  the  element  of  time  being 
omitted,  but  the  meaning  is  obvious).  Kicardo,  however,  constantly 
takes  no  notice  of  capital,  mentioning  labour  alone  in  his  statement 
of  this  principle,  and  seeks  to  justify  his  practice  by  treating 
capitalas  "accumulated  labour";  but  this  artificial  way  of  viewing 
the  facts  obscures  thenature  of  the  co-operation  of  capital  in  produc- 
tion, and  by  keeping  the  necessity  of  this  co-operation  out  of  sight 
baa  encouraged  some  socialistic  errors.  Ricardojioes  not  sufficiently 
distinguish  between  the  cause  or  determinant  and  the  meisure  of 
value  ;  nor  does  he  carry  back  the  principle  of  cost  of  production 
as  regulator  of  value  to  its  foundation  in  the  effect  of  that  cost  on 
the  limitation  of  supply.  It  is  the  "  natural  price  "  of  a  commodity 
that  is  fixed  by  the  theorem  we  have  stated  ;  the  market  price  will 
be  subject  to  accidental  and  temporary  variations  from  this  standard, 
depending  on  changes  in  demand  and  supply;  but  the  price  will, 
permanently  and  in  the  long  run,  depend  on  cost  of  production  de- 
nned as  above.  On  this  basis  Ricardo  j,oes  on  to  explain  the  laws 
according  to  which  the  produce  of  the  land  and  the  labour  of  the 
country  is  distributed  amongst  the  several  classes  whicb  take  part 
in  production. 

The  theory  of  rent,  with  which  bo  begins,  though  cominonly 
issociatcd  with  his  name,  and  though  it  certainly  forma  the  most 


vital  part  of  bis  general  eccmomic  scheme,  was  not  really  his,  rj<i» 
did  he  lay  claim  to  it.  He  distinctly  states  in  the  preface  to  ll<« 
Principles,  that  "in  1815  Mr  JIalthus,  in  his  Inquiry  into  Ihs 
Nature  and  Progress  o)  Rent,  and  a  fellow  of  CJniversity  College, 
Oxford,  in  his  Essay  on  the  Application  of  Capital  to  Land,  presented 
to  the  world,  nearly  at  the  same  moment,  tho  true  doctrine  of 
rent."  The  second  writer  here  referred  to  was  Sir  Edward  AVest, 
afterwards  a  judge  of  the  supreme  court  of  Bombay.  •  Still  earlier 
than  the  time  of  Walthus  and  West,  as  M'CuUoch  has  pointed  out, 
this  doctrine  had  been  clearly  conceived  and  fully  stated  by  Di 
James  Anderson  in  his  Enquiry  into  the  Nature  of  Corn-Laws, 
published  at  Edinburgh  in  1777.  That  this  tract  was  unknown  to 
Malthus  and  West  we  have  every  reason  to  believe ;  but  the  theory 
is  certainly  as  distinctly  enunciated  and  as  satisfactorily  supported 
in  it  as  in  their  treatises  ;  and  the  whole  way  in  which  it  is  put 
forward  by  Anderson  strikingly  resembles  the  form  in  which  it  if 
presented  by  Ricardo. 

The  essence  of  the  theory  is  that  rent,  being  the  price  paid  by  tin 
cultivator  to  the.  owner  of  land  for  the  use  of  its  productive  powers, 
ia  equal  to  the  excess  of  the  price  of  the  produce  of  the  land  ovei 
the  cost  of  production  on  that  land.  With  the  increase  of  popula- 
tion,  and  therefore  of  demand  for  food,  inferior  soils  wOl  be  taken 
into  cultivation  ;  and  the  price  of  the  entire  supply  necessary  foi 
the  community  will  be  regulated  by  the  cost  of  production  of  that 
portion  of  the  supply  which  ia  produced  at  the  greatest  expense. 
But  for  the  land  which  will  barely  repay  the  cost  of  cultivation  no 
rent  will  be  paid.  Hence  the  rent  of  any  quality  of  land  will  be 
equal  to  the  difference  between  the  cost  of  production  on  that  land 
and  the  cost  of  production  of  that  produce  which  is  raised  at  the 
greatest  expense. 

The  doctrine  is  perhaps  most  easily  apprehended  by  means  of  tht 
supposition  here  made  of  the  coexistence  in  a  country  of  a  series  ot 
soils  of  different  degrees  of  fertility  wliich  are  successively  taker 
into  cultivation  as  population  increases.  But  it  would  be  an  erroi 
to  believe,  though  Kicardo  sometimes  seems  to  imply  it,  tliat  such 
difference  is  a  necessary  condition  of  the  existence  of  rent.  If  all 
the  land  of  a  country  were  of  equal  fertility,  still  if  it  were  appro. 
priated,  and  if  the  price  of  the  produce  were  more  than  an  equiva- 
lent for  the  labour  and  capital  applied  to  its  production,  rent  would 
be  paid.  This- imaginary  case,  however,  after  using  it  to  clear  oui 
conceptions,  we  may  for  the  futue  leave  out  of  account 

The  price  of  produce  being,  as  we  have  said,  regulated  by  thi 
cost  of  production  of  that  which  pays  no  rent,  it  is  evident  thai 
"corn  13  not  high  because  a  rent  is  paid,  but  a  rent  is  paid  becaus« 
com  is  high," and  that  "no  reduction  would  take  place  in  thepric* 
of  corn  although  landlords  should  forego  the  whole  of  their  rent  * 
Rent  is,  in  fact,  no  determining  element  of  price  ;  it  is  paid,  indeed, 
out  of  tiie  price,  but  the  price  would  be  the  same  if  no  rent  wen 
paid,  and  the  whole  price  were  retained  by  the  cultivator. 

It  has  often  been  doubted  whether  or  not  Adam  Smith  held  thii 
theory  of  rent  Sometimes  he  uses  language  which  seems  to  implj 
it,  and  states  propositions  which,  if  developed,  would  infallibly 
lead  to  it  Thus  he  says,  in  a  passage  already  quoted,  "  such  parti 
only  ot  the  produce  of  land  can  commonly  be  brought  to  market  ol 
which  the  ordinary  price  is  sufficient  to  replace  the  stock  which 
must  be  employed  in  bringing  them  thither,-  together  with  iti 
ordinary  profits.  If  the  ordinaiy  price  is  more  than  this,  th« 
surplus  part  of  it  will  naturally  go  to  the  rent  of  land.  If  it  ia 
not  more,  though  tho  commodity  can  be  brought  to  market,  it  can 
afford  no  rent  to  the  landlord.  Whether  the  price  is  or  is  not 
more  depends  on  the  demand."  Again,  in  Smith's  application  of 
these  considerations  to  mines,  "the  whole  principle  of  rent,"  Ricardo 
tells  us,  "  is  admirably  and  perspicuously  explained. "  But -he  had 
formed  the  opinion  that  there  is  in  fact  no  land  which  does  not 
afford  a  rent  to  the  landlord  ;  and,  strangely,  he  seems  not  to  have 
seen  tliatthis  appearance  might  arise  from  the  aggregation  into  an 
economic  whole  of  parcels  of  land  which  can  and  others  which 
cannot  pay  rent.  The  truth,  indeed,  is  that  the  fact,  if  it  were  a 
fact,  that  all  the  land  in  a  country  pays  rent  would  be  irrelevant 
as  an  argument  against  the  Andersoniau  theory,  for  it  is  the  same 
thing  in  substance  if  there  be  any  capital  employed  on  land  already 
cultivated  which  yields  a  return  no  more  than  equal  to  ordinary 
profits.  Such  last-employed  capital  cannot  afford  rent  at  the  exist- 
ing rate  of  profit,  unless  the  price  of  produce  should  rise. 

The  belief  which  some  have  entertained  that  Smith,  notwith- 
standing some  vague  or  inaccurate  expressions,  really  held  th« 
Andersonian  doctrine,  can ,  scarcely  be  maintained  when  w« 
remember  that  Hume,  writing  to  him  after  having  read  for  the  fits4 
time  the  Wealth  of  Nations,  whilst  expressing  general  agreement 
with  his  opinions,  said  (apparently  with  reference  to  bk.  I.  chap.  viL), 
"  I  cannot  think  that  the  rent  of  farms'  makes  any  part  of  the  pric* 
of  the  produce,  but  that  the  price  is  determined  altogether  by  the 
quantity  ard  the  demand."  It  is  further  noteworthy  that  a  state- 
ment of  the  theory  of  rent  is  given  in  the  same  volume,  published 
in  1777,  which  contains  Anderson's  polemic  against  Smith's  objec 
tions  to  a  bounty  on  the  exportation  of  corn  ;  this  volume  can 
hardly  have  escaped  Smith's  notice,  yet  neither  by  its  contents  nn» 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


375 


by  Hume's  letter  was  he  led  to  modify  what  he  had  said  in  his  first 

edition  on  the  subject  of  rent.  .    ^^^  „„,q„al  fertUities  of 

It  must  be  remembered  that  not  merely  i      ^^^^  ^^  ^^^ 

different  soUs  «]  ^  fj^'^^^'^  j^^l""  at°on  to  m'avkets,  and  there- 
advantageous  «'t"^''°°  "J  *f '^iii  have  a  similar  effect.  Every 
fore  to  roads   and   railways  J^m   u  produce  to  be 

diminution  of  the  cost  of  t^n^^'  ■  w^  enao^      J  ^^^ 

brcught.to  market  at  a  sniane  This  onTide'tlon  is  indicated  by 
SXttghTe  dot  not  give-it  prominence,  but  dwells  mainly 
on  the  comparative  productiveness  of  BOi^^^^^^  ^^^  ^^  ..^^^ 

4r°L"nliSt^^c.^r^rr^mC^^^^^ 


d iadestnictible powers 01  uiooui..     "^y   -^^f 'i  w  the 

Tnce  to  man  "     He  then  goes  on  to  quote  from  Buchanan  the  re- 
mark thr"  the  notion  of  agriculture  yielding  a  produce  and  a  rent 

f,.nn,  tl.o  nrice  at  which  the  produce  is  sold,  that  the  rent  is  aerivLu , 
and  thb  pHce  isgot,  not  because  nature  assists  in  the  production 
•  tut  h'aSse  it  is^  the  price  which  suits  the  consumption  o  the 
ciTnnlv  •■»  There  is  no  ga  n  to  the  society  at  large  from  the  use  oi 
r  'it  is  Id:^ntageons^o  the  landlords  aloue  and  the-r  -n  eres  s 
!.r«  thiia  nermanontly  in  opposition  to  those  of  all  other  classes. 
Therise  ofrent  may  be  retarded,  or  prevented,  or  even  tern  poranly 
cWed  to  I  "all,  by  agricultural  improvements,  such  as  the  intro 
dS  of\\w  n  Juris  or  of  machines  or  o  a  beUer  or^amza  ion 
nf  labour  (thouch  there  s  not  so  much  room  for  this  last  as  in  otner 
branches  of  production),  or  the  onening  of  nevv.sources  o  sur-ply 
in  riJeign  countries  ;   but  the  tendency  to  a  rise  is  constant  so  long 

"^^^e  'grllJZrnTeTf  the  theory  of  rent  in  Ri-^o'-ystem 
arises  fi^m  the  f^ct  that  he  makes  the  general  economic  condition 
o??he  society  to  depend  altogether  on  the  position  in  which  agn- 
culturalexpfoiution  stands.^  This  will  be  seen  from  he  foUowing 
suement  of  his  theory  of  wages  and  profits.  The  P[°^l»;  °f  \7^ 
expenditure  of  labour  and  capital  being  divided  hetween  the 
labourer  and  the  camtalist,  in  proporl  on  ^^^  o""  ."''*""/ „7°"o? 
other  will  necessarily  obtain  less.  The  productiveness  of  labour 
being  given,  nothing  can  diminish  profit  but  a  ''f  °f  "»g«.^„«^ 

inJrfase  it  but  a  fall  of  wages.     N^  t^'VP",?'',  f ..^^f „7,;  ^^f"  h! 

the  same  as  its  cost  of  production,  is  determined  by  the  price  oi  tne 

comrdities  necessary'for  the  support  of  the  ^<^^ZZ-..tuJoZl 

of  such  manufactured  articles  as  he  requires  has  a  <:°"ft'\"* '""7'"^^ 

to  fall   nrinciiwally  by  reason  of  the  progressive  application  of  the 

dWson'^Tabour^o  their  production.     But  the  cost  of  his  ma  n- 

t  nance  essentially  depends',  not  on  the  price  of  th-o  ar  icl  s.  lu 

on  that  of  his  food  :  and,  ac  the  production  of  food  \mU  in   me 

^^oi:L  of  s'oiiety  and  of  p'opulation'^require  the  sacrifice  of  more  and 

^oro  labour,  its  price  will  rise  ;    n;,'''>'=y.,«-aR'j»  "tL^ T^s  to  the 

rise,  and  with  the  rise  of  wages  proh  s  will  fall.     Thus  -t"  to  the 

necessary   crftdual   descent   to   inferior   soils,    or  less    pro.lucuve 

:, PndUurf  on  the  same  soil,  that  the.decrcase  ■"  the  mty   profit 

which  has   historically  taken    place   is   to   be   ."^^  "buted    hmi  h 

ascribed  this  decrease  to  the  competition  of  capitalists,  though  in 


?:jS^So&l:t^df:Sm^^t||^?3^ 

a„°d  oUier  c'^e's  L  reinl  the  Lt  of  the  P"-?  -e-^O,^  '^\ 
Uhm.rer-  but  here  again,. the  tendency  is  constant  W hilst  in« 
can°S  thus  loses,  the  labourer  does  not  gain  :  his  .>n«=reasea 
mon^y  wates  only  enable  him  to  pay  the  increased  Pnce  of  hu 
ZesLies  of  which  he  wUl  have  no  greater  and  protably  a  lew 
rarethan  he  had  before.     In  fact,  the  labourer  can  never  for  any 

rent  has  a  constant  tendency  to  riso  and  profit  to  taH.  the  rise  or 
f^l  of  wa^es  will  depend  "on  the  rate  of  mcrease  of  the  working 
rlLes  FOTthe  improvement  of  their  condition  Ricardo  thus  ha« 
fo  an  back  on  the  Malthusian  remedy,  of  the  effective  applicatioD 
of  which  he  does  not,  however,  seem  to  have  much  expectabon 
Thr  securities  acainsi  a  superabundant  population  to  which  he 
noitts  are  the  gradual  abolition  of  the  poor  laws-for  their  afend- 
n  would  not  content  him-and  the  development  amongst  th. 
woilcing  classes  of  a  taste  for  greater  comforts  and  enjoyments 

it  wUl  be  seen  that  the  socialists  have  somewhat  exaggerated  in 
announcing  aTKicardo's  "iron  law"  of  ^age«.  tl"='^^^^»  "*«  "l,^"; 
ritn°th  the  amount  'necessary  to  sustain  the  existence  of  the 
labourer  and  enable  him  to  continue  the  race.  He  recognizes  the 
inrtuence  of  a  "standard  of  living"  as  limiting  the  increase  of  the 
nnmbers  of  the  working  classes,  and  so  keeping  their  wages  above 
?riowesf  point  But  li*  also  holds  that,  in  long-settled  countries, 
in  the  ordi^ry  course  of  human  affairs,  and  in  the  absence  of  specia 
efforts  restricting  the  growth  of  population,  the  condition  of  the 
labourer'Sf  decline  as' surely,  and  Ifrom  the  same  causes,  as  that 

"^rwltrl^^'kld^whe^hrtlit  doctrine  of  rent,  and  the  conse- 
nuencTs  which  Ricardo  deduced  from  it,  are  true   we  must  answe 
?hat  thev  Se  hypothetically  true  in  the  most  advanced  mdustri^ 
,„,,nftiP,   and  there  only  (though  they  have  been  rashly  applied 
toThc  ca    s  of  Inta  and  IrclLd),  but  that  even  in  those  commuiiitie, 
nether  safe  inference  nor  sound  action  can  be  built  upon  them. 
Is  we  shall  see  hereafter,  the  value  of  most  of  the  theorems  o   th. 
clasreal  economics  is  a  good  deal  attenuated  by  the  habitual  !«. 
sunipttons  that  we  are  dealing  with  "  economic  men     actuated  b, 
one  principle  only;  that  custom,  as  against  <=?'"P.etition,  has  n 
existence  -that  the  e  is  no  such  thing  as  combination  ;  that  ther, 
is  equalTty  of  contract  between  the  parties  to  each  transaction  and 
thatTherl  is  a  deQnite  uniyersal  rate  of  profit  and  wages  ma  com- 
muni  y  which  implies  that  the  capital  embarked  in  any  undertak 
r"viu  pass  at  once  to  another  in  which  larger  profits  are  for  thj 
time  to  be  made  ;  that  a  labourer,  whatever  his  local  ties  of  feeling, 
fimilv   habit    or  other  engagements,  will  transfer  himself  imme- 
&  to  any  place  where!  o^r  employment  in  which,   or  the  time, 
larger  wages  are  to  be  earned  than  those  he  had  previously  obtained 
anfthit  both  capitalists  and  labourers  have  a  perfect  knowledge  ol 
?he  condition  and  prospects  of  industry,  throughout  the  country, 
both  in  their  own  aSd  other  occupations.     But    n  R'^ardo's  spccn 
htions  on  rent  and  its  consequences  there  ,s  still  more  of  abstrac 
tion      The  influence  of  emigration,  which  has  assumed  vast  dimen^ 
»  ons  since  his  .time,  is  loft  out  of  account,  and  the  amount  of  land 
TtThe  disposal  of  a'community  is  ^"PPO.^ed  limited  to  it^o.vn  l^r, 
ritorv  whilst  contemporary  Europe  is  in  fact  largely  ted  by  the 
wes  era  States  of  Am'erica.'    He  did  not  adequately  aPP'ecm  «  the 
degree  in  which  the  augmented  productiveness  of  labour   w  ethet 
f,!om   ncreased  intelligence,  improved  organization,  •"''of "'   °°  ?^ 
machinery    or  more  rapid  and  cheaper   communication,  steadily 
keeps  down  the  cost  J  production.     To  these  influences  must  b. 
added  those  of  legal  refor?.,s  in  tenure,  and  fa'^*'/""'"  -f"  ^'"„=<2; 
tracts    which  operate  in  the  same  direction.     As   a  result  of  iJI 
Uiese'cau  es,  the  pressure  anticinated  by  Kicardo  ,s  not  felt   and 
Z  cry  is  rat^erj  the   landlor^^s  over    .U^^^^ 

X'd  thar  ProrSfclfoUot.  no  e^emy  to  the  "orthodox  "  econo- 
mics  when  recently  conducting  an  inquiry  into  the  present  sUt. 
^t  the  apicSuira/question.  pronounced  the  so-called  R.cardi.n 
theory  of  rent  "  too  abstract  to  be  of  practica   utility 

■A  narticular  economic  subject  on  which  Ki.ardo  has  thrown  . 
usefuriig  is  the  nature  of  the  advantages  derived  from  foreign 
con  me  ce  and  the  conditions  under  which  such  commerce  can  gc 
on  Whi  St  preceding  writer  had  represented  those  benefits  a. 
consisUng  in  affording  a  vent  for  sumlus  produce  or  enab  ing  . 
consisiiug  lu  »       .__»,  „.,;,„,  ,„  .„„,,.„  iiso  r  with  a  rmht,   h 


.  senior,  however,  h»,  poinic;i  m.t  "'•'fj:;'"' '' '^''^jv.'f.i'ro'  :-'''imt!cd.';;;;s 

l„cr««d  pop"'''"""/''!"'™','''''"  "7.3''"'",fTo    '  i™   »hl=''  """  '""* 
tho  necesiury  .upply.  on   the  other  honil.    t  Is  too  powir^  rcQUlrud  tor 

?ucttltW.Uon  that  .upp»e=  tho  lund  out  ot  which  rent  can  h-  ■'-'J. 


^t;:n  ;L";;;^iial-ia,dur.o  roniace  Asolf  with  a  prtjh^  1« 
pointed  out  that  they  consist  "»imp(y  and  »oU-ly  m  this,  hat  i. 
Sles  each  nation  to  obtain,  with  a  given  amount  of  labour  and 
capital,  a  greater  quantity  of  all  commodities  taken  toec  her 
Thb  is  no  doubt  the  point  of  view  at  whicU"  we  tl.ould  halnluall 


,ll> 


376 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


place  ourselvfes  ;  tut  tlie  other  forms  of  expression  employed  by  his 
'  (jredecessora  arc  sometimes  useful  as  representing  real  considerations 
ilfccting  national  production,  and  need  not  be  absolutely  disused. 
Hicardo  protceds  to  show  that  what  determines  the  purchase  of  any 
(ommodity  from  a  foreign  country  is  not  tlie  circumstance  that  it 
ran  lie  produced  there  with  less  labour  and  capital  than  at  home. 
If  we  have  a  greater  positive  advantage  in  the  production  of  some 
>lhcr  article  tlian  in  that  of  tlie  commodity  in  question,  even 
though  we  liave  an  advantage  in  producing  the  latter,  it  may  be 
»ur  interest  to  devote  ourselves  to  the  production  of  that  in  which 
ive  Iiave  the  greatest  advantage,  and  to  import  that  in  producing 
ivhich  we  sliould  have  a  less,  though  a  real,  advantage.  It  is,  in 
khort,  not  absolute  cost  of  productiou,  but  coinpara'ive  cost,  which 
determines  the  interchange.  This  remark  is  just  ard  interesting, 
tlisugh  an  undue  importance  seems  tu  be  attributed  to  it  by  J.  S. 
Jlill  and  Cairnes,  the  latter  of  whom  maguiloquently  describes  it 
as  "sounding  tlie  depths"  of  the  problem  of  international  dealings, — 
though,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter,  he  modilies  it  by  the  introduction 
of  certain  considerations  rcsnecting  the  conditions  of  domestic  pro- 
tluction. 

For  the  nation  as  a  whole,  according  to  Ricardo,  it  is  not  the 
gross  produce  of  the  land  and  labour,  as  Smith  seems  to  assert, 
that  is  of  importance,  but  the  net  income — the  excess,  that  is,  of 
this  produce  over  tlie  cost  of  ]noduction,  or,  in  other  words,  the 
amount  of  its  rent  and  its  profits  ;  for  the  wages  of  labour,  not  essen- 
tially exceeding  the  maintenance  of  the  labourers,  are  by  him  con- 
sidered only  as  a  part  of  the  "  necessary  expenses  of  production." 
Hence  it  follows,  as  he  hiinsi'lf  in  a  characteristic  and  often  quoted 
passage  says,  that,  "provided  the  net  real  income  of  the  nation  he 
the  same,  it  is  of  no  importance  whether  it  consists  of  ten  or  twelve 
millions  of  inhabitants.  If  five  millions  of  men  could  produce  as 
nnich  food  and  clothing  as  was  necessary  for  ten  millions,  food  and 
clothing  for  five  millions  would  be  the  net  revenue.  Would  it  be 
•f  any  advantage  to  the  country  that  to  produce  this  same  net 
revenue  seven  millions  of  men  should  be  required, — that  is  to 
say,  tliat  .seven  millions  should  be  employed  to  produce  food  and 
clothin;;  suftieient  for  twelve  millions?  The  food  and  clothing  of 
five  millions  wouhl  be  still  the  net  revenue.  The  employing 
a  greater  number  of  men  would  enable  us  neither  to  add  a  man  to 
•ui'  army  and  navy  nor  to  contribute  one  guinea  more  in  taxes." 
Industry  is  here  viewed,  just  as- by  the  mercantilists,  in  relation  to 
the  military  and  political  power  of  the  state,  not  to  the  maintenance 
and  improvement  of  human  beings,  as  its  end  and  aim.  The 
labourer,  as  Held  has  remarked,  is  regarded  not  as  a  member  of 
society,  but  as  a  means  to  the  ends  of  society,  on  whose  sustenance 
a  part  of  the  gross  income  must  be  ex])ended,  as  another  part  must 
he  spent  on  the  sustenance  of  horses.  We  may  well  ask,  as 
Sismondi  did  in  a  personal  interview  with  Eicardo,  '•  What !  is 
wealth  then  everything  ?  are  men  absolutely  nothing  ?  " 

On  the  whole  what  seems  to  us  true  of  Ricardo  is  this, 
that,  whilst  he  had  remarkable  powers,  they  were  not 
the  powers  best  fitted  for  sociological  research.  Nature 
intended  him  rather  for  a  mathematician  of  the  second 
order  than  for  a  social  philosopher.  Nor  had  he  the  due 
previous  fireparation  for  social  studies;  for  we  must 
decline  to  accept  Bagehot's  idea  that,  though  "  in  no  high 
sense  an  educated  man,"  he  had  a  specially  apt  training 
for  such  studies  in  his  practice  as  an  eminently  successful 
stockjobber.  The  same  writer  justly  notices  the  "  anxious 
j)enetration  with  which  he  follows  out  rarefied  minutiae." 
Hut  he  wanted  breadth  of  survey,  a  comprehensive  view 
of  human  nature  and  human  life,  and  the  strong  social 
sympathies  which,  as  the  greatest  minds  have  recognized, 
are  a  most  valuable  aid  in  this  department  of  study.  On 
a  subject  like  that  of  money,  where  a  few  elementary  pro- 
positions^into  which  no  moral  ingredient  enters — have 
alone  to  be  kept  in  view,  he  was  well  adapted  to  succeed  ; 
but  in  the  larger  social  field  he  is  at  fault.  He  had  great 
deductive  readiness  and  skill  (though  his  logical  accuracy, 
as  Mr  Sidgwick  remarks,  has  been  greatly  exaggerated). 
But  in  human  affairs  phenomena  are  so  complex,  and  prin- 
piples  so  constantly  limit  or  even  compensate  one  another, 
that  rapidity  and  daring  in  deduction  may  be  the  greatest 
of  dangers,  if  they  are  divorced  from  a  wide  and  balanced 
appreciation  of  facts.  Dialectic  ability  is,  no  doubt,  a 
valuable  gift,  liut  the  first  condition  for  success  in  social 
investigation  is  to  see  things  as  they  are. 

A  sort  of  Ricardo-mythus  for  some  time  existed  in  econo- 
mic circles.     It  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  esasgeratcd 


estimate  of  his  merits  arose  in  part  from  a  sense  of  thft 
support  his  system  gave  to  the  manufacturers  and  other 
capitalists  in  their  growing  antagonism  to  the  old  aristo- 
cracy of  landowners.  The  same  tendency,  as  well  as  his 
affinity  to  their  too  abstract  and  unhistorical  modes  of 
thought,  and  their  eudsemonistic  doctrines,  recommended 
him  to  the  Benthamite  group,  and  to  the  so-called  Philo- 
sophical Radicals  generally.  Brougham  said  he  seemed 
to  have  dropped  from  heaven — a  singular  avatar,  it 
must  be  owned.  His  real  services  in  connexion  with 
questions  of  currency  and  banking  naturally  created  a 
prepossession  in  favour  of  his  more  general  views.  But, 
apart  from  those  special  subjects,  it  does  not  appear 
that,  either  in  the  form  of  solid  theoretic  teaching  or  of 
valuable  practical  guidance,  he  has  really  done  much  for 
the  world,  whilst  he  admittedly  misled  opinion  on  several 
important  questions.  De  Quincey's  presentation  of  him 
as  a  great  revealer  of  truth  is  now  seen  to  be  an  ex- 
travagance. J.  S.  Mill  and  others  speak  of  his  "  superior 
lights  "  as  compared  with  those  of  Adam  Smith  ;  but  his 
work,  as  a  contribution  to  our  knowledge  of  human  society, 
will  not  bear  a  moment's  comparison  with  the  Wealth  of 

It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  Malthus,  though  the 
combination  of  his  doctrine  of  population  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  Ricardo  composed  the  creed  for  some  time  pro- 
fessed by  all  the  "  orthodox  "  economists,  did  not  himself 
accept  the  Ricardian  scheme.  He  prophesied  that  "  the 
main  part  of  the  structure  would  not  stand."  "The 
theory,"  he  says,  "  takes  a  partial  view  of  the  subject,  like 
the  system  of  the  French  economists ;  and,  like  that 
system,  after  having  drawn  into  its  vortex  a  great  number 
of  very  clever  men,  it  will  be  unable  to  support  itself 
against  the  testimony  of  obvious  facts,  and  the  weight  of 
those  theories  which,  though  less  simple  and  captivating, 
are  more  just,  on  account  of  their  embracing  more  of  the 
causes  which  are  in  actual  operation  in  all  economical 
results." 

We  saw  that  the  foundations  of  Smith's  doctrine  in 
general  philosophy  were  unsound,  and  the  ethical  character 
of  his  scheme  in  consequence  injuriously  affected;  but  his 
method,  consisting  in  a  judicious  combination  of  induction 
and  deduction,  we  found  (so  far  as  the  statical  study  of  eco- 
nomic laws  is  concerned)  little  open  to  objection.  Mainly 
through  the  influence  of  Ricardo,  economic  method  was 
perverted.  The  science  was  led  into  the  mistaken  course 
of  turning  its  back  on  observation,  and  seeking  to  evolve 
the  laws  of  phenomena  out  of  a  few  hasty  generalizations 
by  a  play  of  logic.  The  principal  vices  which  have  been 
in  recent  times  not  unjustly  attributed  to  the  members 
of  the  "  orthodox "  school  were  all  encouraged  by  his 
example,  namely, — (1)  the  viciously  abstract  character  of 
the  conceptions  with  which  they  deal,  (2)  the  abusive 
preponderance  of  deduction  in  their  processes  of  research, 
and  (3)  the  too  absolute  way  in  which  their  conclusions 
are  conceived  and  enunciated. 

The  two  works  of  JIalthus  already  named  are  by  far  tlie  most 
important  in  the  history  of  the  science.  He  was  also  author 
of  Principles  of  Political  Economij  (1S20),  Dejinilions  in  Polificat 
Economtj,  and  some  minor  pieces.  The  works  of  Eicardo  have  been 
collected  in  one  vo'ume,  with  a  bioeranhical  notice,  by  J.  R. 
M'CuUoch  (lS-t6). 

After  Malthus  and  Ricardo,  tne  first  of  whom  had  fixed 
public  attention  irresistibly  on  certain  aspects  of  society, 
and  the  second  had  led  economic  research  into  new,  if 
questionable,  paths,  came  a  number  of  minor  writers  who 
were  mainly  their  expositors  and  commentators,  and 
whom,  accordingly,  the  Germans,  with  allusion  to  Greek 
mythical  history,  designate  as  the  Epigoni.  By  them  the 
doctrines  of  Smith  and  his  earliest  successors  were  thrown 
into  more  systematic  shape,  limited  and  guarded  so  as  to 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


377 


6(5  less  opeu  to  criticism,  coudied  in  a  more  accurate  fer^ 
iwinology,  modified  in  subordinate  particulars,  or  applied 
'to  the  solution.of  the  practical  questions  of  their  day.    , 

James  Jlill's  £lcmcnls  (162\)  deserves  special  notice,  asexljibiting 
Ihx;  system  of  Ricardo  with  a  tliorougli-going  rigour,  a  comiiactness 
of  presentation,  and  a  skill  in  the  disposition  of  material*  which 
t;ive  to  it  in  sonie  degree  tlie  character  of  a  work  of  art.  The  a 
piiori  political  economy  is  here  reduced  to  its  simplest  expression." 
J.  R,  Jl'Culloch  (1779-186-1),  authorof  a  number  of  Laborious  statis- 
tical aud  other  compilations,  criticized  current  economic  legislation 
\n  \he  Edinburgh  UevUw  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  Ricardiau 
doctrine,  tnkiiig  up  substantially  the  same  theoretic  position  as 
was  occupied  at  a  somewhat  later  period  by  the  Jlanchester  school. 
He  is  altogether  without  originalitj',  and  never  exhibits  .iny  philo- 
sophic elevation  or  breadth.  His  confident  dogmatism  is  often 
repellent;  he  admitted  in  )iis  later  years  that  he  had  been  too  fond 
of  novel  opinions,  and  defended  tlicni  wiili  more  heat  and  perti- 
nacity than  they  deserved.  It  is  noticeable  that,  though  often  spoken 
of  in  his  own  time  both  by  those  wlio  agreed  with  liis  views,  and 
those,  like  Sisniondi,  wlio  differed  from  them,  as  one  of  the  liglitsof 
the  reignin"  school,  his  name  is  now  tacitly  dropped  in  the  writings 
of  the  members  of  tliat  school.  Whaliever  may  have  been  hispaitial 
usefulness  in  vindicating  the  policy  of  free  trade,  it  is  at  least  plain 
that  for  tile  needs  of  our  social  future  he  .has  nothing  to  olTer. 
Nassau  William  Senior  (1790-1864),  who  was  professor  of  political 
oeonqray  in  the, university  of  Oxford,  published,  besides  a  number 
of  separate  lectures,  a  treatise  on  the  science,  which  first  apiieared 
as  an  article  in  the  Encijclopsedia  Mciropolitana.  He  is  a  writer  of 
a  high  order  of  merit."  He  made  considerable  contributions  to  the 
elucidation  of  ceonomic  principles,  specially  studying  exactness  in 
uoraenclature  and  strict  accuracy  in  deduction.  His  explan.ttions 
ou  cost  of  production  and  the  way  in  which  it  affects  price,  on 
font,  on  the  difference  between  rate  of  wages  and  price  of  labour, 
on  tlic  relation  between  profit  and  wages  (with  special  reference  to 
Sicardo's  theorem  on  this  subject,  which  he  corrects  by  the  substi- 
tution of«  proportional  for  absolute  amount),  and  on  the  dis- ' 
♦I'ibution-of  the  plccious  metals  between  different  countries  are 
Jiarticulafjy  valuable.  His  new  term  "abstinence,"  invented  to 
express  the  conduct  for  which  interest  is  the  reniuncralion,  was 
nseful,  though  not  quite  appropriate,  because  negative  in  meininj. 
It  is  on  the  question  of  wages  that  Senior  is  least  satisfautorj'.  Ho 
makes  the  average  rate  in  a  country  (which,  we  must  maintain,  is 
not  a  real  quantity,  though  the  rate  in  a  given  employment  and 
neighbourhood  Is)  to  be  expressed  by  the  fraction  of  which  the 
Numerator  is  the  amount  of  the  wages  fund  (an  unasccrtaiuable 
and  indeed,  except  as  actual  total  of  wages  paid,  imaginary  sum) 
and  the  denominator  the  number  of  the  working  pp]uilation  ;  and 
from  this  he  proceeds  to  draw  the  most  important  and  f.ir-reaching 
'eonsequences,  though  the  ctjnntion  on  which  he  founds  his  inferences 
conveys  at  most  only  an  aritlinietical  fact,  which  would  be  true  of 
every  case  of  a  division  amongst  individuals,  and  contains  no 
economic  element  whatever.  The  phrase'"  wages  fund"  originated 
in  some  expressions  of  Adam  Sjnith  used  only  lor  the  purpose  of 
illustration, 'and  never  intended  to  bo  rigorously  interpreted  ;  and 
we  shall  see  that  the  doctrine  has  been  repudiated  by  several 
Snembers  of  what  is  regarded  as  the  orthodox  school  of  political 
aconomy.  As  regards  method.  Senior  makes  the  science  a  purely 
deducjive  one,  in  which  there  is  no  room  for  any  other  "facts"  than 
the  four  fundamental  propositions  from  which  he  undertakes  {o 
'deduce  all  economic  truth.  And  he  does  not  regard  himself  as 
arriving  at  hypothetic  conclusions;  his  postulates  and  his  inferences 
|«rc  alike  conceived  as  corresponding  to  actual  phenomena.  Colonel 
Robert  Tbrrens  (1780-1864)  was  a  prolific  writer,  partly  on  economic 
theory,  but  principally  on  its  applications  to  financial  and  com- 
mercial policy.  Almost  the  whole  of  the  programme  whieh  was, 
carried  out  in  legislation  by  Sir  Robert  Peel  had  been  laid  down  in 
principle  in  the  writings  of  Torrens.  He  gave  substantially  the 
samo  theory  of  foreign  trade  which  was  afterwards  stated  by  J.  S. 
Jklill  in  ohe  of  his  Essaijs  'on  UnscltJcd  Questions.  He  was  on 
early  and  earnest  advocate  of  the  rciwal  of  the  corn  laws,  but  was 
not  in  favour  of  a  general  system  of  absolute  free  trade,  maintain-' 
ing  that  it  is  expedient  to  impose  retaliatory  duties  to  countervail 
similar  dutiifs  imposed  by  foreign  countries,  and  that  a  lowering  of 
iinport  duties  on  the  productions  of  countries  retaining  their  hostile 
tariffs  would  occasion  an  abstraction  of  the  precious  .metals,  and  a 
decline  in  prices,  jiiofita,  and  wages. .' His  principal  writings  of  a 
general  character  were — The  Economist  [rTo.,  I'hysiocrat]  n-fiitcd, 
1808;  Essay  on  the  Proibudion  of  Wealth,  1821;  Essay  on  the 
External  Corn-trade  (eulogized  by  Ricardo),  1827;  The  lludgel,  a. 
Scries  of  Leticrs  on  Financial,  Commercial,  and  Colonial  Policy,^. 
11841-3.  ll.irrict  Marlineau  (1802-1876)  popularized  the  doctrines 
of  Multhus  and  KicarJo  in  hcT  Illustrations  o/  Political  Economy 
(1832-34),  a  scries  of  talcs,  in  which  there  is  much  excellent 
description,  hut  the  effect  of  the  narrative  is  often  marred  by  the 
■omowhat  ponderous  disquisitions  here  and  there  .thrown  in, 
luually  ID  ttie  form  of  dialogue. 


>  Other  w.itcrs  who  ought  tcTlie  naiur'd  in  any  hiJlory  of  ihcieienif 
are  Charles  liabbage.  On  the  Kcononuj  of  Machines  and  Munufactitrra 
(1832),  chie/ly  descriptive,  but  also  in  part  theoretic;  William 
Thomas  Thornton,  Ovcrj'ojjulntion  and  its  HcmcHy  (1846),  yf  Plea 
for  Peasant  Proprietors  (1848),  On  Labour  (1869;  2d  ed.,  1870); 
Herman  Merivale,  lectures  un  Coloni-.ntion  and  Colonies,  (1841-2; 
new  ed.,  1861) ;  T.  C.-Banfield,  The  Organ iiiUion  vf  Industry 
explnincd  (1844;  2d  ed.,  1848);  and  Edward  CUbbon  WakclieW, 
A  yicto  of  the  Art  of  Colonization,  1849.  Thomas  Chalmers,  well 
known  in. other  fields  of  thought,  was  author  of  The  Christian 
and  Civic  Economy  of  ■  Large  Towns  (1821-36),  and  On  Political 
Economy  in  Connexion  with  the  Moral  State  and  Moral  Prospects  of 
Society  (1832);  he  strongly  opposed  any  system  of  legal  charity, 
and,  whilst  justly  insisting  on  the  primary  importance  of  morality, 
industry,  and  thrift  as  conditions  of  popular  wcUbeing,  carried  the 
Malthusian  doctrines  to  excess.  Nor  was  Ireland  without  a  share 
in  the  economic  movement  of  the  period.  Whatcly,  having  beaiii 
second  Drummond  professor  of  pulitical  economy  at  Oxford  (in, 
succession  to  Senior),  founded  (1832),  when  he  went  to  Ireland 
as  archbishop '  fif  IJublin,  n  similar  professorship  in  Trinity 
College,  Dublin.,  It  was  first  held  by  Jlountifort  Longficld,  after- 
wards judge  of  the  Landed  Estates  Court,  Ii  eland  (d.  188.4).  He  pub- 
lished lectures  on  the  sriencc  generally  (1834),  on  Poor  Zatcs(1834), 
and  ou  Commerce  and  Absenteeism  (1835),  which  were  marked 
by  independence  of  thought  and  sagacious  observation.  He  was 
laudably  free  from  many  of  the  exaggerations  of  his  contemporaries ; 
he  said,  in  1835,  "  in  political  economy  we  must  not  abstract  too 
ninch,"  and  protested  against  the  assumption  too  often  made  that 
"men  are  guided  in  all  their  conduct  by  a  prudent  regard  to  their 
own  interest."  James  A.  Lawson  (now  Jlr  Justice  Lawson)  also 
published  some  lectures  (1844)  delivered  from  the  same  chair,  which 
may  still  be  read  with  interest  and  profit  ;  his  discussion  of  tlie 
question  of  population  is  especially  good  ;  he  also  asserted  againsk 
Senior  that  the  science  is  avide  de  fails,  and  that  it  must  reason 
about  the  world  and  mankind  a3  they  really  arc. 

The  most  systematic  and  thorough-going  contemporary 
critic  of  the  Eicardian  systtem  vas  Richard  Jones  (1790-' 
1855),  professor  at  Haileybury.  Jones  has  received  scant 
justice  at  the  hands  of  his  successors.  J.  S.  Mill,  whilst 
using  his  work,  ga^e  his  merits  but  faint  recognition. 
Even  Roscher  says  that  he  did  not  thoroughly  understand 
Ricardo,  \vithout  giving  any  proof  of  that  assertion,  whilst 
he  is  silent  as  to  the  fact  that  much  of  what  has  beet^ 
preached  by  the  German  historical  school  is  found  dis^ 
tinctly  indicated  in  Jones's  writings.  He  has  been  soms^ 
times  represented  as  having  rejected  the  Andersoniaii 
doctrine  of  rent  ;•  but  such  a  statement  is  .incorrect. 
Attributing  the  doctrine  to  Jlalthus,  he  says  that  that 
economist  "showed  satisfactorily  that,  when  land  is  culti-> 
vated  by  capitalists  living  on  the  profits  of  their  stock, 
and  able  to  move  it  at  pleasure  to  other  employments,  the 
expense  of  tilling  tlie  worst  quality  of  land  cultivated 
detcrmines  the  -average  price  of  raw  produce,  while  the 
diiference  of  quality  on  the  sufjerior  lands  measures  the 
rents  yielded  by  them."  '  What  he  really  denied  was  tha 
application  of  the  doctrine  to  all  cases  where  rent  is  paid ; 
he  pointed  out  in  his  Essay  on  the  DistriiiUion  of  Wealth 
and  on  the  Sources  of  Taxation,  1831,  that,  besides  "farmcrsT 
rents,"  which,  under  the  suiiposeJ_ conditions,  conform  to 
the  above  law,  there  are  "  peasant  rents,"  jiaid  every  where 
tlirough  the  most  extended"  periods  of  hlstorj',  and  still 
paid  over  by  far  the  largest  part  of  the  earth's  surface,  whicli 
are  not  so  regulated. >  Peasant  rents  ho  divided  under  the/ 
heads  of  ())  .serf,  (2)  metayer,  (3)  ryot,  and  (4)  cottiei* 
rents,  a  clas.Mfication  afterwards  adopted  in  substance  by 
J.  S.  Mill ;  and  ho  showed  that  the  contracts  fi.xing  thoifc 
amount  were,  at  least  in  the  fir.st  three  classes,  determinco 
rather  by  custom  than  by  competition.  •  Passing  to  the 
superstructure  of  theory  erected  by  Ricardo  on  the  doctrinu 
of  rent  which  ho.  had  .so  unduly  extended,  Jones  denicil 
most  of  the  conclusions,  he  had  deduced,  especially  tha 
following:— that"  the  increase  of  farmers' -rents  is  ahvaya 
contemporary  with  a  dccrenso  in  tho  productive  powers  p< 
agriculture,  and  como.s  with  loss  and-  distress  in  its  train  ' 
that  the  interests  of  landlords  ai-e'alway^  and  necessaiily 
opposed .^ to.  the  interests  of  tho -state  and  of  _every.  othet 


878 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


class  of  society  ;  that  the  diminution  of  the  rate  of  profits  | 
is  exclusively  dependent  on  the  returns  to  the  capital  last  I 
employed  on  the  land  i  and  that  wages  can  rise  only  at 
the  expense  of  profits. 

Tlie  method  followed  by  Jouos  is  inductive  ;  liis  coiieliisioiis  are 
founded  on  a  wide  observation  of  conteinjiorary  facts,  aided  by  the 
study  of  history.  "If,"  he  said,  "we  wish  to  make  ourselves 
aci|uaiiited  with"  the  economy  and  arrangements  by  which  the 
iliH'event  nations  of  tlie  eartli  produce  and  distribute  their  revenues. 
I  really  know  but  of  one  way  to  attain  our  object,  and  that  is,  to 
look  and  see.  Wo  must  get  uoniprehenjive  views  of  facts,  that  we 
may  arrive  at  principles  that  are  truly  comprehensive.  If  we  take 
a  ditfereut  method,  if  we  snatch  at  general  principles,  and  content 
ourselves  with  confined  observations,  two  things  will  liappen  to  us. 
First,  wliat  we  call  general  princijiles  will  often  be  found  to  have 
no  generality — we  shall  set  out  with  declaring  propositions  to  be 
universally  true  which,  at  every  step  of  our  further  progress,  we 
sholl  be  oijligeil  to  confess  are  frequently  false  ;  and,  secondly,  we 
Kliall  miss  a  great  mass  of  useful  knowledge  which  those  who 
advance  to  principles  by  a  compreliensive  examination  of  facts 
necessarily  meet  with  on  their  road. "  The  world  he  professed  to 
study  was  not  an  imaginary  world,  inhabited  by  abstract "  economic 
men,"  but  the  real  world  with  tlie  di/l'erent  forms  which  the  o\vner- 
shi]i  and  cultivation  of  land,  and,  in  general,  the  conditions  of 
production  and  distribution,  assume  at  different  times  and  places. 
His  recognition  of  such  different  systems  of  life  in  communities 
occupying  different  stages  in  the  progress  of  civilization  led  to  his 
proposal  of  what  lie  called  a  "  political  economy  of  nations."  Tliis 
was  a  protest  against  the  practice  of  taking  the  exceptional  state 
of  facts  which  e.'iists,  and  is  indeed  only  partially  realized,  in  a 
small  corner  of  our  planet  as  representing  the  uniform  type  of 
human  societies,  and  ignoring  the  effects  of  the  early  history  and 
special  development  of  each  community  as  influencing  its  economic 
pheupmena. 

It  is  sometimes  attempted  to  elude  the  necessity  for  a  wider 
range  of  study  by  alleging  a  universal  tendency  in  the  social  world 
to  assume  this  now  exceptional  shape  as  its  normal  and  ultimate 
constitution.  Even  if  this  tendency  were  real  (which  is  only 
partially  true,  for  the  existing  order  amongst  ourselves  cannot  be 
regarded  as  entirely  definitive),  it  could  not  be  admitted  that  the 
facts  witnessed  in  our  civilization  and  those  exhibited  in  less 
advanced  communities  are  so  approximate  as  to  be  capable  of  being 
i^epresented  by  the  same  formula.  As  ^Vhewell,  in  editing  Jones's 
Hemains,  1859,  well  observed,  it  is  true  in  the  physical  world  tliat 
"  all  things  tend  to  assume  a  form  determined  by  the  force  of  gravity ; 
the  hills  tend  to  become  plains,  the  waterfalls  to  eat  away  their 
beds  and  disappear,  the  rivers  to  form  lakes  in  the  valleys,  the 
glaciers  to  pour  down  in  cataracts."  But  are  we  to  treat  these 
results  as  achieved,  because  forces  are  in  operation  which  may 
ultimately  bring  them  about  ?  As  Comte  has  said,  all  liuman 
questions  are  largely  questions  of  time  ;  and  the  economic  pheno- 
mena which  really  belong  to  the  several  stages  of  the  human 
movement  must  be  studied  as  they  are,  unless  we  are  content  to 
fall  into  giievous  error  both  in  our  tlieoretic  treatment  of  them  and 
in  the  solution  of  the  practical  problems  they  present. 

Jones  is  remarkable  for  his  freedom  from  exaggeration  and  one- 
sided statement ;  thus,  whilst  holding  JIalthus  in,  perhaps,  undue 
esteem,  he  declines  to  accept  the  proposition  that  an  increase  of  the 
means  of  subsistence  is  necessarily  followed  by  an  increase  of 
population  ;  and  he  maintains  what  is  undoubtedly  true,  that  with 
the  growth  of  popvilation,  in  all  well-governed  and  prosperous 
states,  the  command  over  food,  instead  of  diminishing,  increases. 

Much  of  what  he  has  left  us — a  large  part  of  which  is  unfortu- 
nately fragmentary — is  akin  to  the  later  labours  of  Cliffe  Leslie. 
The  latter,  however,  had  the  advantage  of  acquaintance  with  the 
sociology  of  Comte,  which  gave  him  a  firmer  grasp  of  method,  as 
well  as  a  wider  view  of  the  general  movement  of  society  ;  and, 
whilst  the  voice  of  Jones  was  but  little  heard  amidst  the  general 
fpplause  accorded,  to  Ricardo  in  the  economic  world  of  his  time, 
Leslie  wrote  when  disillusion  had  set  in,  and  the  current  was 
beginning  to  turn  in  England  against  the  a  priori  economics. 

Comte  somewhere  speaks  of  the  "  transient  predilec- 
tion "  for  political  economy  which  had  shown  itself  gene- 
rally in  western  Europe.  This  phase  of  feeling  was  speci- 
ally noticeable  in  England  from  the  third  to  the  fifth 
decade  of  the  present  century.  "Up  to  the  year  1S18," 
said  a  writer  in  the  Westminster  Revieiv,  "  the  science  was 
scarcely  known  or  talked  of  beyond  a  small  circle  of  philo- 
sophers ;  and  legislation,  so  far  from  being  in  conformity 
with  its  principles,  was  daily  receding  from  them  more 
and  more."  Mill  has  told  us  what  a  change  took  place 
within  a  few  years.  "  Political  economy,"  he  says,  "  had 
saserted  itself  with  great  vigour  in  public  affairs  by  the 


petition  of  the  merchants  of  London  for  Iree  trade,  drawn 
up  in  1820  by  Mr  Tooke  and  presented  by  Mr  Ale.xander 
Baring,  and  by  the  noble  exertions  of  Ricardo  during  the 
few  years  of  his  parliamentary  life.  His  writings,  follow- 
ing up  the  impulse  given  by  the  bullion  controversy,  and 
followed  up  in  their  turn  by  the  expositions  and  com- 
ments of  my  father  and  M'CuUoeh  (whose  writings  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review  during  those  years  were  most  valuable), 
had  drawn  general  attention  to  the  subject,  making  at 
least  partial  converts  in  the  cabinet  itself;  and  Huskisson, 
supported  by  Canning,  had  commenced  that  gradual 
demolition  of  the  protective  system  which  one  of  their 
colleagues  virtually  completed  in  1846,  though  the  last 
vestiges  were  only  swept  away  by  Mr  Gladstone  in  1860.'^ 
AVhilst  the  science  was  thus  attracting  and  fixing  the 
attention  of  active  minds,  its  unsettled  condition  was 
freely  admitted.  The  differences  of  opinion  among  its 
professors  were  a  frequent  subject  of  complaint.  But  it 
was  confidently  expected  that  these  discrepancies  would 
soon  disappear,  and  Colonel  Torrens  predicted  that  in 
twenty  years  there  would  scarcely  "  exist  a  doubt  respect- 
ing any  of  its  more  fundamental  principles."  •"The  pro- 
sperity," says  Mr  Sidgwick,  "  that  followed  on  the  aboli- 
tion of  the  corn  laws  gave  practical  men  a  most  impressive 
and  satisfying  proof  of  the  soundness  of  the  abstract 
reasoning  by  which  the  expediency  of  free  trade  had  been 
inferred,"  and  when,  in  1848,  "a  masterly  expositor  of 
thought  had  published  a  skilful  statement  of  the  chief 
results  of  the  controversies  of  the  preceding  generation," 
with  the  due  "  explanations  and  qualifications "  of  the 
reigning  doctrines,  it  was  for  some  years  generally  believed 
that  political  economy  had  "  emerged  from  the  state  of 
polemical  discussion,"  at  least  on  its  leading  doctrines, 
and  that  at  length  a  sound  construction  had  been  erected 
on  permanent  bases. 

This  expositor  was  John  Stuart  Jlill  (1806-73).  He 
exercised,  without  doubt,  a  greater  influence  in  the  field  of 
English  economics  than  any  other  writer  since  Ricardo. 
His  systematic  treatise  has  been,  either  directly  or  through 
manuals  founded  on  it,  especially  that  of  Fawcett,  the 
source  from  which  most  of  our  contemporaries  in  these 
countries  have  derived  their  knowledge  of  the  science. 
But  <here  are  other  and  deeper  reasons,  as  we  shall  see,' 
which  make  him,  in  this  as  in  other  departments  of  know, 
ledge,  a  specially  interesting  and  significant  figure. 

In  1844  he  published  five  Essays  on  some  Unsettled 
Questions  of  Political  Econoni!/,  which  had  been  written  as 
early  as  1829  and  1830,  but  had,  with  the  exception  of 
the  fifth,  remained  in  manuscript.  In  these  essays  is 
contained  any  di^graatic  contribution  which  he  can  be 
regarded  as  having  made  to  the  science.  The  subject  of 
the  first  is  the  laws  of  interchange  between  nations.  He 
shows  that,  when  two  countries  trade  together  in  tw-o 
commodities,  the  prices  of  the  commodities  exchanged  on 
both  sides  (which,  as  Ricardo  had  proved,  are  not  deter- 
mined by  cost  of  production)  will  adjust  themselves  in 
such  a  way  that  the  quantities  required  by  each  country 
of  the  article  which  it  imports  from  its  neighbour  shall 
be  exactly  sufficient  to  pay  for  one  another.  "S^  This  is 
the  law  which  appears,  with  some  added  developments, 
in  his  systematic  treatise  under  the  name  of  the  "equai 
tion  of  international  demand.  "^  The  most  importent 
practical  conclusion  (not,  however,  by  any  means  i  an 
undisputed  one)  at  which  he  arrives  in  this  essay 
is,  that  the  relaxation  of  duties  on  foreign  commodities, 
not  operating  as  protection  but  maintained  solely  .  for 
revenue,  should  be  made  contingent  on  the  adoption  of 
some  corresponding  degree  of  freedom  of  trade  with 
England  by  the  nation  from  which  the  commodities  are 
imported.     In  the  second  essay,  on  the  influence  of  cou- 


POLITICAL     E  C  0  N  0  IM  Y 


379 


sumption  on  production,  the  most  interesting  results 
arrived  at  are  the  proposi/ions — (1)  that  absenteeism  is 
a  local,  not  a- national,  evil,  and  (2)  that,  whilst  there 
cannot  be  permanent  excess  of  production,  there  may  be 
a  temporary  excess,  not  only  of  any  one  article,  but  of 
commodities  generally, — this  last,  however,  not  arising 
from  over-production,  but  from  a  want  of  commercial  con- 
fidence. The  third  essay  relates  to  the  use  of  the  words 
"  productive  "  and  "  unproductive  "  as  applied  to  labour, 
to  consumption,  and  to  expenditure.  The  fourth  deals 
with  profits  and  interest,  especially  explaining  and  so 
justifying  Ricardo's  theorem  that  "  profits  depend  on 
wages,  rising  as  wages  fall  and  falling  as  wages  rise." 
What  Ricardo  meant  was  that  jjrofits  depend  on  the  cost 
of  wages  estimated  in  labour.  Hence  improvements  in 
the  production  of  articles  habitually  consumed  by  the 
labourer  may  increase  profits  without  diminishing  the  real 
remuneration  of  the  labourer.  The  last  essay  is  on  the 
definition  and  method  of  political  economy,  a  subject 
afterwards  more  maturely  treated  in  the  author's  System 
of  Logic. 

In  1848  Mill  published  his~ Principles  of  Political 
Eidnomy,  with  some  of  their  'Applications  to  Social  Philo- 
tophy.  This  title,  though,  as  we  shall  see,  open  to  criti- 
cism, indicated  on  the  part  of  the  author  a  less  narrow 
and  formal  conception  of  the  field  of  the- science  than  had 
been  common  amongst  his  predecessors.  He  aimed,  in 
fact,  at  producing  a  work  which  might  replace  in  ordinary 
use  the  Wealth  of  Nations,  which  in  his  opinion  was  "  in 
many  parts  obsolete  and  in  all  imperfect."  Adam  Smith 
had  invariably  associated  the  general  principles  of  the. 
subject  with  their  applications,  and  in  treating  those 
applications  had  perpetually  appealed  to  other  and  often 
far  larger  considerations  than  pure  political  economy 
affords.  And  in  the  same  spirit  Mill  desired,  whilst  incor- 
porating all  the  results  arrived  at  in  the  special  science  by 
Smith's  successors,  to  exhibit  purely  economic  phenomena 
in  relation  to  the  most  advanced  conceptions  of  his  own 
time  in  the  general  philosophy  of  society,  as  Smith  had 
done  in  reference  to  the  philcsophy  of  his  century. 

This  design  he  certainly  failed  to  realize.  His  book  is 
very  far  indeed  from  being  a  "  modern  Adam  Smith." 
It  is  an  admirably  lucid  and  even  elegant  exposition  of 
the  Ricardian  economics,  the  Malthusian  theory  being  of 
course  incorporated  with  these,  but,  notwithstanding  the 
introduction  of  many  minor  novelties,  it  is,  in  its 
scientific  substance,  little  or  nothing  more.  When 
Cliffe  Leslie  says  that  Mill  so  qualified  and  amended 
the  doctrines  of  Ricardo  that  the  latter  could  scarcely  have 
recognized  them,  he  certainly  goes  a  great  deal  too  far; 
Senior  really  did  more  in  that  direction.  Mill's  effort  is 
usually  to  vindicate  his  master  where  others  have  censured 
him,  and  to  palKate  his  admitted  laxities  of  expression. 
Already  his  profound  esteem  for  Ricardo's  services  to 
economics  had  been  manifest  in  his  Essays,  where  he  says  of 
him,  with  some  injustice  to  Smith,  that,  "  having  a  science 
to  create,"  he  could  not  "occupy  himself  with  more  than 
the  leading  principles,"  and  adds  that  "no  one  who  has 
thoroughly  entered  iuto  his  discoveries"  will  find  any 
difficulty  in  working  out  "even  the  minutiie  of  the 
sctfince."  James  Mill,  too,  had  been  essentially  an  ex- 
pounder of  Ricardo  ;  and  the  son,  whilst  greatly  superior  to 
his  father  in  the  attiactiveneae  of  his  expository  style,  is, 
in  regard  to  his  economic  doctrine,  substantially  at  the 
same  point  of  view.  It  is  in  their  general  philosophical 
conceptions  and  their  views  of  social  aims  and  ideals  that 
the  elder  and  younger  Jlill  occupy  quite  different  positions 
in  the  line  of  progress.  The  latter  could  not,  for  example, 
in  his  adult  period  have  put  forward  as  a  theory  of 
government  the  shallow  sophistries  which  the  plain  good 


sense  of  Macaulay  sufficed  to  expose  in  the  writings  of  the 
former,  and  he  had  a  nobleness  of  feeling  which,  in 
relation  to  the  higher  social  questions,  raised  him  far  above 
the  ordinary  coarse  utilitarianism  of  the  Benthamites. 

The  larger  and  more  philosophic  spirit  in  which  Mill  dealt 
with  social  subjects  was  undoubtedly  in  great  measure  due  to 
the  influence  of  Comte,  to  whom,  as  !Mr  Bain  justly  says, 
he  was  under  greater  obligations  than  he  himself  was 
disiiosed  to  admit.  Had  he  more  completely  undergone 
that  influence,  wo  are  sometimes  tempted  to  think  he 
might  have  wrought  the  reform  in  economics  which  still 
remains  to  be  achieved,  emancipating  the  science  from  the 
a  2»'io)'i  system,  and  founding  a  genuine  theory  of  indui>- 
trial  life  on  observation  in  the  broadest  sense.  But  probablj- 
the  time  was  not  ripe  for  such  a  construction,  and  it  is 
possible  that  Mill's  native  intellectual  defects  might  have 
made  liim  unfit  for  the  task,  for,  as  Roscher  has  said, 
"ein  historischer  Kopf  war  er  nicht."  However  this 
might  have  been,  the  effects  of  his  early  training,  in  which 
positive  were  largely  alloyed  with  metaphysical  elements, 
sufficed  in  fact  to  prevent  his  attaining  a  perfectly 
normal  mental  attitude.  He  never  altogether  overcame 
the  vicious  direction  which  he  had  received  from  the 
teaching  of  his  father,  and  the  influence  of  the  Benthamite 
group  in  which  he  was  brought  up.  Hence  it  was  that, 
according  to  the  striking  expression  of  Roscher,  his  whole 
view  of  life  was  "zu  wenig  aus  Einera  Gusse."  The 
incongruous  mixture  of  fhe  narrow  dogmas  of  his  youthful 
jieriod  with  the  larger  ideas  of  a  later  stage  gave  a  waver- 
ing and  indeterminate  character  to  his  entire  philosophy. 
He  is,  on  every  side,  eminently  "im-final  ";  he  rejiresenta 
tendencies  to  new  forms  of  opinion,  and  opens  new  vistas 
in  various  directions,  but  founds  scarcely  anything,  and 
remains  indeed,  so  far  as  his  own  position  is  concerned, 
not  merely  incomplete  but  incoherent.  It  is,  however, 
precisely  this  dubious  position  which  seems  to  us  to  give  a 
special  interest  to  his  career,  by  fitting  him  in  a  peculiar 
degree  to  prepare  and  facilitate  transitions. 

What  he  himself  thought  to  be  "  the  chief  merit  of  his 
treatise "  was  the  marked  distinction  drawn  between  the 
theory  of  production  and  that  of  distribution,  the  laws  o< 
the  former  being  based  on  unalterable  natural  facts,  whilst 
the  course  of  distribution  is  modified  from  time  to  time  by 
the  changing  ordinances  of  society.  This  distinction,  we 
may  remark,  must  not  be  too  absolutely  stated,  for  the 
organization  of  production  changes  with  social  growth, 
and,  as  Lauderdale  long  ago  showed,  the  nature  of  the 
distribution  in  a  community  reacts  on  production.  But 
there  is  a  substantial  truth  in  the  distinction,  and  the 
recognition  .of  it  tends  to  concentrate  attention  on  the 
question— How  can  we  improve  the  e.xisting  distribution 
of  wealt]i?~,The  study  of  this  problem  led  Jlill,  as  he 
advanced  in  years,  further  and  further  in  the  direction  of 
socialism  ;  and,  whilst  to  the  end  of  his  life  his  book  con- 
tinued to  deduce  the  Ricardian  doctrines  from  the  principle 
'  of  enhghtencd  selfishness,  he  was  looking  forward  to  an 
order  of  things  in  which  synergy  should  be  founded  on 
sympathy. 

The  gradual  modification  of  hi.s  views  in  relalfon  to  the 
economic  constitution  of  society  is  set  forth  in  his  Auto- 
hiographi/.  In  his  earlier  days,  ho  tells  us,  ho  "had  seen 
little  further  than  the  old  school  "  (note  tliis  significant 
title)  "  of  political  economy  into  the  possibilities  of  funda- 
mental improvement  in  social  arrangements.  Private  pro- 
perty, as  now  understood,  and  inheritance  appeared  the 
da-nier  mot  of  legislation."  The  notion  of  proceeding  to 
any  radical  redress  of  the  injustice  "involved  in  the  fact 
that  some  are  born  to  riches  and  the  vast  majority  to 
poverty  "  he  had  then  reckoned  chimerical.  But  now  his 
views  were  such  as  would  "  class  him  decidedly  under  (he 


380 


POLITICAL      ECONOMY' 


general  designation  of  socialist " ;  he  had  come  to  believe 
that  the  whole  contemporary  framework  of  economic  life 
was  merely  temporary  and  provisional,  and  that  a  time 
would  come  when  "the  division  of 'the  produce  of  labour, 
io^ead  of  depending, -as  in  so  great  a  degree  it  now  does, 
on  the  accident  of.  birth,  would  be  made  by  concert  on  an 
acknowledged  principle  of  justice."  •  "  The  social  problem 
of  the  future''  he  considered  to  be  "how  to  unite  the 
greatest  individual  liberty  of  action,"  which  was  often 
compromised  in  socialistic  schemes,  "  with  a  common 
ownership  in  the  raw. material  of  the  globe,  and  an  equal 
participation'  in  all  the  benefits  of  combined  labour." 
These  ideas  were  scarcely  indicated  in  the  first  edition  of 
the  Political  Economy,  rather  more  clearly  and  fully,  in 
the  second,  and  Cjuite  unequivocally  in  the  third, — the 
French  Revolation  of  1848  having,  as  he  says,  made  the 
public  more  open  to  the  reception  of  novelties  in  opinion. 

Whilst  thus  looking  forward  to  a  new  economic  order,  he 
yet  thinks  its  advent  very  remote,  and  believes  that  the 
inducements  of  private  interest  will  in  the  meantime  be 
indispensable.  On  the  spiritual'  side  he  maintains  a 
similar  attitude  of  expectancy.  He  anticipates  the  ulti- 
mate disappearance  of  theism,  and  the  substitution  of  a 
purely  human  religion,  but  believes  that  the  existing 
doctrine  will  long  be  necessary  as  a  stimulus  and  a  control. 
He  thus  saps  existing  foundations  without  providing  any- 
thing to  take  their  place,  and  maintains  the  necessity  of 
conserving  for  indefinite  periods  what  he  has  radically 
discredited.  Nay,  even  whilst"  sowing  the  seeds  of  change 
in  the  direction  of  a  socialistic  organization  of  society,  he 
favours  present  or  proximate  arrangements  which  would 
urge  the  industrial  world  towards,  other  issues.  The 
system  of  peasant  proprietorship  of  land  is  distinctly  indi- 
vidualistic in  its  whole  tendency ;  yet  he  -extravagantly 
praises  it  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  book,  only  receding 
from  that  laudation  when  he  comes  to  the  chapter  on  the 
future  of  the  labouring  classes.  And  the  system  of  so- 
called  cooperation  in  production  which  he  so  warmly  com- 
mended in  the  later  editions  of  his  work,  and  led  some  of 
his  followers  to  preach  as  the  one  thing  needful,  would 
inevitably  strengthen  the  principle  of  personal  property, 
and,  whilst  professing  at  most  to  substitute  the  competition 
of  associations  for  that  of  individuals,  would  by  no  means 
exclude  the  latter. 

The  elevation  of  the  working  classes  he  bound  up  too 
exclusively  with  the  Malthusian  ethics,  on  which  he  laid 
quite  an  extravagant  stress,  though,  as  Mr  Bain  has 
observed,  it  is  not  easy  to  make  out  his  exact  views,  any 
more  than  his  father's,  on  this  subject.  We  have  no 
reason  to  think  that  he  ever  changed  his  opinion  as  to  the 
necessity  of  a  restriction  on  population ;  yet  that  element 
seems  foreign  to  the  socialistic  idea  to  which  he  increas- 
jingly  leaned.  It  is  at  least  difficult  to  see  how,  apart 
from  individual  responsibility  for  the  support  of  a  family, 
what  Malthus  called  moral  restraint  could  be  enforced. 
This  difficulty  is  indeed  the  fatal  flaw  which,  in  Malthus's 
own  opinion,  vitiated  the  scheme  of  Godwin. 

Mill's  openness  to  new  ideas  and  his  enthusiasm  for 
improvement  cannot  be  too  much  admired.  But  there 
appears  to  have  been  combined  with  these  fine  traits  in 
his  mental  constitution  a  certain  want  of  practical  sense, 
a  failure  to  recognize  and  acquiesce  in  the  necessary  con- 
ditions of  human  life,  and  a  craving  for  "better  bread 
than  can  be  made  of  wheat."  He ^ entertained  strangely 
exaggerated,' or.  rather  perverted,  "notions  of  the  "sub- 
jection," the  capacities,  and  the  rights  of  women^^  He 
encourages  a  spirit  of  revolt  on  the  part  of  working  men 
against  their  perpetual',  condemnation,  as  a  class,  to  the 
lot  of  living  by  wages,  v/ithout  giving  satisfactory  proof 
that  this  state  of  things  is  capable  of  change,  and  without 


showing  that  such  a  lot,  duly  regulated  by  law :  and 
morality,  is  inconsistent  with  their  real  happiness.  He 
also  insists  on  the  "independence"  of  the  working  class — '■ 
which  according  to  hxxafara  da  se — in  such  a  way  as  to) 
obscure,  if  not  to  controvert,  the  truths  that  superior  rant 
and  wealth  are  naturally  invested  with  social  power,  and 
are  bound  in  duty  to  exercise  it  for  the  benefit  of  thq 
community  at  large,  and  especially  of  its  less  favoured 
member?.  And  he  attaches  a  quite  undue  importg.nce  to, 
mechanical  and,  indeed,  illusory  expedients,  such-as.tha 
limitation  of  the  power  of  bequest  aod  the  confiscation  of 
the  "  unearned  increment"  of  rent. 

With  respect  to  economic  method  also,  he  shifted  hia 
position  ;  yet  to  the  end  occupied  uncertain  ground.  In 
the  fifth  of  his  early  essays  he  asserted  that  the  method 
a  priori  is  the  only  mode  of  investigation  in  the  social 
sciences,  and  that  the  method  a  posteriori  "is  altogether 
inefficacious  in  those  sciences,  as  a  means  of  arriving  at 
any  considerable  body  of  valuable  truth."  'When  he  wrote 
his  Logic,  he  had  learned  from  Comte  that  the  a  posteriori 
method — in  the  form  which  he  chose  to  call  "inverse 
deduction  " — was  the  only  mode  of  arriving  at  truth  in 
general  sociology ;  and  •  his  admission  of  this  at  once, 
renders  the  essay  obsolete.  But,  unwilling  to  relinquish, 
the  a  priori  method  of  his  youth,  he  tries  to  establish  a; 
distinction  of  two  sorts  of  economic  inquiry,  one  of  which, 
though  not  the  other,  can  be  handled  by  that  rhethod.| 
Sometimes  he  speaks  of  political  economy  as  a  department 
"  carved  out  of  the  general  body  of  the  science  of  society  "; 
whilst  on  the  other  hand  the  title  of  his  systematic  work 
implies  a  doubt  whether  political  economy  is  a  part  of, 
"  social  philosophy "  at  all,  and  not  rather  a  study  pre- 
paratory and  auxiliary  to  it.  Thus,  on  the  logical  as  weU, 
as  the  dogmatic  side,  he  halts  between  two  opinions.. 
Notwithstanding  his  misgivings  and  even  disclaimers,  he 
yet  remained,  as  to  method,  a  member  of  the  old  school, 
and  never  passed  into  the  new  or  "  historical "  school,  to 
which  the  future  belongs. 

The  question  of  economic  method  was  also  taken  up  byl 
the  ablest  of  his  disciples,  John  Elliott  Cairnes  (1824-. 
75),  who  devoted  a  volume  to  the  subject  (Logical 
Method  of  Political  Economy,  1857  ;  2d  ed.,  1875).  Prof.' 
Walker  has  lately  spoken  of  the  method  advocated  by 
Cairnes  as  different  from  that  put  forward  by  Mill,  and 
has  even  represented  the  former  as  similar  to,  if  not 
identical  with,  that  of  the  German  historical  school.  But 
this  is  certainly  an  error.  Cairnes,  notwithstanding 
some  apparent  vacillation  of  view  and  certain  conces- 
sions more  formal  than  real,  maintains  the  utmost  rigou^ 
of  the  deductive  method  ;  he  distinctly  affirms  "that  in 
political  economy  there  is  no  room  for  induction  at  all, 
"  the  economist  starting  with  a  knowledge  of  ultimate 
causes,"  and  being  thus,  "at  the  outset  of  his  enterprise, 
at  the  position  which  the  physicist  only  attains  after  ages 
of  laborious  research."  He  does  not,  indeed,  seem  to  be 
advanced  beyond  the  point  of  view  of  Senior,  who  professed 
to  deduce  all  economic  truth  from  four  elementary  pro- 
positions. Whilst  Mill  in  his  Logic  represents  verification 
as  an  essential  part  of  the  process  of  demonstration  oi 
economic  laws,  Cairnes  holds  that,  as  they  "  are  not  asser- 
tions respecting  the  character  or  sequence  of  phenomena  " 
(though  what  else  can  a  scientific  law  be  1),  "  they  can 
neither  be  established  nor  refuted  by  statistical  or  docu- 
mentary evidence."  A  proposition  which  affirms  nothing 
respecting  phenomena  cannot  be  controlled  by  being  can- 
fronted  with  phenomena.  Notwithstanding  the  Unques- 
tionable ability  of  his  book,"  it  appears  to  mark,  in  some| 
respects,  a  retrogression,  in  methodology,  and  can  for  thft 
future  possess  only  an  historical  interest. 

Regarded    in    that    light,     the    labours    of    Mill    and 


POLITICAL     ECONOIMY 


381 


Ciirnes  on  the  method  of  the  science,  though  intrinsically 
unsound,  had  an  important  negative  effect.  They  let 
down  the  old  political  economy  from  its  traditional  posi- 
tion, and  reduced  its  extravagant  pretensions  by  two 
modifications  of  commonly  accepted  views.  First,  whilst 
Ricardo  had  never  doubted  that  in  all  his  reasonings  he 
was  dealing  with  human  beings  as  they  actually  exist, 
they  showed  that' the  science  must  be  regarded  as  a  purely 
hypothetic  one.  Its  deductions  are  based  on  unreal,  or  at 
least  one-sided,  assumptions,  the  most  essential  of  which 
is  that  of  the  existence  of  the  so-called  "economic  man," 
a  being  who  is  influenced  by  two  motives  only,  that  of 
acquiring  wealth  and  that  of  avoiding  exertion  ;  and  only 
80  far  as  the  premises  framed  on  this  conception  correspond 
with  fact  can  the  conclusions  be  depended  on  in  practice. 
Senior  in  vain  protested  against  such  a  view  of  tho 
science,  which,  as  he  saw,  compromised  its  social  efficacy ; 
whilst  Torrens,  who  had  previously  combated  the  doctrines 
of  Ricardo,  hailed  Mill's  new  presentation  of  political 
economy  as  enabling  him,  whUst  in  one  sense  rejecting  those 
doctrines,  in  another,  sense  to  accept  them.  Secpndly, 
beside  economic  science,  it  had  often  been  said,  stands  an 
economic  art, — the  former  ascertaining  truths  respecting 
the.  laws  of  economic  phenomena,  the  latter  prescribing 
the  right  kind  of  economic  action  ;  and  many  had  assumed 
that,  the  former  being  given,  the  latter  is  also  in  our 
possession — that,  in  fact,  we  have  only  to  convert  theorems 
into  precepts,  and  the  work  is  done.  But  Mill  and  Cairnes 
made  it  plain  that  this  statement  could  not  be  accepted, 
that  action  can  no  more  in  the  economic  world  than  in 
any  other  province  of  life  be  regulated  by  considerations 
borrowed  from  that  department  of  things  only,  that 
economics  can  suggest  ideas  which  are  to  be  kept  in  view, 
but  that,  standing  alone,  it  cannot  direct  conduct — an 
office  for  which  a  wider,  prospect  of  human  affairs  is 
required.  This  matter  is  best  elucidated  by  a  reference  to 
Comte's  classification,  or  rather  hierarchical  arrangement, 
of  the  sciences.  Beginning  with  the  least  complex, 
mathematics,  we  rise  successively  to  astronomy,  physics, 
chemistry,  thence  to  biology,  and  from  it  again  to  socio- 
logy. In  the  course  of  this  ascent  we  come  upon  all  the 
great  laws  which  regulate  the  phenomena  of  the  inorganic 
world,  of  organized  beings,  and  of  society.  A  further  step, 
however,  remains  to  be  taken — namely,  to  morals  ;  and  at 
this  point  theory  and  practice  tend  to  coincide,  because 
every  element  of  conduct  has  to  be  considered  in  relation 
to  the  general  good.  In  the  final  synthesis  all  the 
previous  analyses  have  to  be  used  as  instrumental,  in 
order  to  determine  how  every  real  quality  of  things  or 
men  may  be  made  to  converge  to  the  welfare  of  humanity. 
Cairnes's  most  important  economic  publication  was  his 
last,  entitled  Some  Leading  Principles  of  Political  Economy 
newly  Expounded,  1 874.  In  this  work,  which  does  not  pro- 
fess to  bo  a  complete  treatise  on  the  science,  he  criticizes  and 
emends  the  statements  which  preceding  writers  had  given 
of  some  of  its  principal  doctrines,  and  treats  elaborately  of 
the  limitations  with  which  they  are  to  be  understood,  and 
the  exceptions  to  them  which  may  be  produced  by  special 
circumstances.  Whilst  marked  by  great  ability,  it  affords 
evidence  of  what  has  been  justly  observed  as  a  weakness 
;in  Cairnes's  mental  constitution — his  "  deficiency  in  in- 
tellectual sympathy,"  and  consequent  frequent  inability  to 
eee  more  than  one  side  of  a  truth. 

Tho  tliroe  divisions  of  the  book  relate  respectively  to  (1)  value, 
(2)  labour  nnd  capital,  aud  (3)  international  trade.  In  tho  first  lie 
bc^in!!  by  elucidating  the  meaning  of  the  woid  "value,"  ami  under 
this  head  coutioveits  tho  vitiw  of  Jcvons  that  tho  exchange  value 
of  anything  depends  entirely  on  its  utility,  without,  perhaps, 
distinctly  apprehending  what  Jevons  nicoiit  by  thisiiroposition.  On 
supply  and  demand  he  shows,  as  Say  bail  done  before,  that  these, 
regarded  jjis  aggregate!:,  are  not  independent,  but  strictly  couDected 


and  mutually  dependent  phenomena — identical,  indeed,  under  a 
system  of  barter,  but,  under  a  money  system,  conceivable  as 
distinct.  Supply  and  demand  with  respect  to  particular  commo- 
dities must  be  understood  to  mean  supply  and  demand  at  a  given 
price  ;  and  thus  we  are  introduced  to  the  ideas  of-lnarket  price  and 
normal  price  (as,  following  Cherbnliez,  he  terms  what  Smith  less 
happily  called  natural  price).  Normal  price  again  leads  to  the 
consideration  of  cost  of  production,  and  here,  against  Mill  and 
othere,  he  denies  that  profit  and  wages  enter  into  cost  of  pi-oduc- 
tion  ;  in  other  words,  he  asserts  what  Senior  (whom  he  does  not  name) 
had  said  before  him,  though  he  had  not  consistently  carried  out 
the  nomenclatui'c,  that  cost  of  production  is  the  sum  of  labour 
and  abstinence  necessary  to  production,  wages  and  profits  being 
the  remuneration  of  sacrifice  and  not  elements  of  it.  But,  it  may 
well  be  asked.  How  can  au  amount  of  labour  be  ndded  to  an  amoUnt 
of  abstinence  ?  Must  not  wages  and  profits  be  taken  as  "measures 
of  cost?"  By  adhering  to  the  conception  of  "sacrifice,"  he 
exposes  the  emptiness  of  the  assertion  that  "dear  laboi!ir  is 
the  great  obstacle  to  the  extension  of  British  trade  " — a  sentence 
in  which  "British  trade  ".means  capitalists'  profi-ts.  At  this 
point  we  are  introduced  to  a  doctrine  now  first  elaborated,  though 
there  are  Indications  of  itln  Mill,  of  whoso  theory  of  inter- 
national values  it  is  in  fact  an  extension^  In  foreign  trade 
cost  of  production,  in  Cairnes's  sense,  does  not  regulate  values, 
because  it  cannot  perform  that  function  except  under  a  regime 
of  effective  competition,  and  between  difl'erent  countries  effec- 
tive competition  does  not  exist.  But,  Cairnes  asks,  to  what  ex- 
tent does  it  exist  in  domestic  industries  ?  So  far  as  capital  is 
concerned,  he  thinks  the  condition  is  sufficiently  fulfilled  over  the 
whole  field — a  position',  let  it  be  said  in  passing,  which  he  does 
not  seem  to  make  out,  if  we  consider  the  practical  immobility  ol 
most  invested,  as  distinct  from  disposable,  capital.  But  in  tho 
case  of  labour  the  requisite  competition  takes  place  only  within 
certain  social,  or  rather  industrial,  strata.  The  world  of  industry 
may  be  divided  into  a  series  of  superposed  groups,  and  these  groups 
are  practically  "non-competing,'  the  disposable  labour  in  any  one 
of  them  being  rarely  capable  of  choosing  its  field  in  a  higher.  The 
law  that  cost  of  production  determines  ptice  cannot, .therefore,  be 
absolutely  stated  respecting  domestic  any  mote  than -respecting 
international  exchange  ;  as  it  fails  for  the  latter  universally,  so  it 
fails  for  the  former  as  between  non-competing  groups.  The  law 
that  holds  between  these  is  similar  to  that  governing  international 
values,  which  may  be  called  tho  equation  of  reciprocal  demand. 
Such  a  state  of  relative  prices  will  establish  itself  amongst  the 
products  of  these  groups  as  shall  enable  that  portion  of  the  products 
of  each  group  which  is  applied  to  the  purchase  of  tho  products  ol 
all  other  groups  to  disonaige  its  liabilities  towards  those  other 
groups.  The  reciprocal  demand  of  the  groups  determines  the 
"average  relative  level"  of  prices  within  each  group  ;  whilst  cost 
of  production  regulates  the  distribution  of  price  among  the  indivi- 
dual products  of  each  group.  This  theorem  is  perhaps  of  no  great 
practical  value  ;  but  the  tendency  of  the  whole  investigation  is  to 
attenuate  the  importance  of'  cost  of  production  as  a  regulator  ol 
normal  price,  ana  so  to  show  that  yet  another  of  the  accepted 
doctrines  of  the  science  had  been  projiounded  in  too  rigid  and 
absolute  a  form.  As  to  market  price,  the  formula  by  which  Mill 
had  defined  it  as  the  price  which  equalizes  demand  and  supply 
Cairnes  shows  to  be  an  identical  proposition,  and  he  defines  it  as 
the  price  which  most  advantageou.sly  adjusts  tho  existing  supply  to 
tho  existing  demand  pending  the  coming  forward  of  frosb  sunnUes 
from  the  sources  of  production. 

His  second  part  is  chiefly  remarkable  for  his  defence  of  what  ia 
known  as  tho  wages  fund  doctrine,  to  which  we  adverted  when 
speaking  of  Senior.  Mill  had  given  up  this  doctrine,  having  been 
convinced  by  Thornton  that  it  was  erroneous  ;  but  Cairnes  refused 
to  follow  liis  loader,  who,  as  ho  believes,  ought  rot  to  have  been 
convinced.  After  having  given  what  is  certainly  a  follncious  reply 
to  Longe's  criticism  of  the  expression  "average  rote  of  wages,"  he 
proceeds  to  vindicate  the  doctrine  in  question  by  the  consideration 
that  the  amount  of  a  nation's  wealtli  devoted  at  any  time  to  the 
payment  of  wages— if  the  character  of  the  national  industries  and 
the  methods  of  production  employed  remain  the  same— is  in  a 
definite  relation  to  the  amount  of  its  general  capital  ;  the  latter 
being  given,  the  former  is  also  given.  In  illustrating  his  view  of 
the  subject,  ho  insists  on  the  principle  (true  in  tho  main,  but  too 
absolutely  formulated  by  Mill)  that  "demand  for  commodities  is 
not  demand  for  labour."  It  is  not  necessary  here  to  follow  his  in- 
vestigation, for  bis  i-easoning  has  not  satisfied  his  successors,  with  the 
exception  of  Fawcett,  nnd  the  question  of  wages  is  now  commonly 
treated  without  reference  to  a  supposed  determinate  wages  fund. 
Cairnes  next  studies  trades-unionism  in  relation  to  wages,  and 
arrives  in  substance  at  the  conclusion  that  tho  only  way  in  which 
if  can  olfect  their  rate  is  by  accelerating  an  advance  which  must 
ultimately  have  taken  place  independently  of  its  action,  lie  aho 
takes  occasion  to  refute  Mr  (now  Sir  Thomas)  Brossey's  snppos»d 
law  of  a  uniform  cost  of  labour  in  every  part  of  the  world.  Turning 
to  consider  the  material  prospects  of  the  working  classes,  be  oxaminet 


382 


r.  OLITICAL     ECONOIMY 


the  question  of  the  changes  whicli  may  be  expected  in  the  amount 
Aud  jrartition  of  the  fund  out  of  which  abstinence  anil  labour  are 
remunerated.  +  Ho  here  enunciates  the  principle  (which  had  been, 
however,  stated  before  him  by  Kicardo  and  Senior)  that  the  increased 
productiveness  of  industry  will  not  affect  either  profit  or  wages 
unless  it  cheapen  the  commodities  which  the  labourer  consumes. 
Tliesc  latter  being  mo.stly  commodities  of  which  raw  produce  is  the 
only  or  principal  element^  their  cost  of  production,  notwithstanding 
iniprovement.s  in  knowledge  and  art,  will  increase  unless  the 
numbers  of  the  labouring  class  be  steadily  kept  in  check  ;  and  lience 
the  possibility  of  elevating  the  condition  of  the  lajjourer  is  confined 
within  very  narrow  limits,  if  he  continues  to  be  a  labourer  only. 
The  condition  of  any  .substantial  and  permanent  improvement  in 
his  lot  is  that  he  should  cease  to  be  a  mere  labourer— that  profits 
should  be  brought  to  reinforce  the  wages  fund,  which  has  a  tendency 
to  decline  relatively  to  the  general  capital  of  a  country.  And  hence 
C'.iirnes— abandoning  the  purely  theoretic  attitude  which  he  else- 
where represents  as  the  only  jjroper  one  for  the  economist — recom- 
mends the  system  of  so-called  co-operation  (that  is,  in  fact,  the  aboli- 
tion of  the  large  capitalist)  as  on'ering  to  the  working  classes  "the 
sole  means  of  escape  from  a  harsh  anil  hopeless  destiny,"  and  puts 
aside  rather  contemptuously  the  opposition  of  the  positivists  to  this 
solution,  which  yet  many  besides  the  positivists,  as,  for  example, 
Leslie  and  F.  A.  Walker,  regard  as  chimerical. 

The  third  part  is  devoted  mainly  to  an  exposition  of  Eicardo's 
doctrine  of  the  conditions  of  international  trade  and  Mill's  theory  of 
international  values.  The  former  Cairnes  modifies  by  introducing  his 
idea  of  the  partial  influence  of  reciprocal  demand,  as  distinguished 
from  cost  of  production,  on  the  regulation  of  domestic  prices,  and 
founds  on  this  rectification  an  interesting  account  of  the  connexion  1 
between  the  wages  prevailing  in  a  country  and  the  character  and 
course  of  its  external  trade.  He  emends  Ifill's  statement,  which 
represented  the  produce  of  a  country  as  exchanging  for  that  of  other 
countries  at  such  values  "as  are  required  in  order  that  the  whole  of 
her  exports  may  exactly  p.ay  for  the  whole  of  her  imports  "  by  sub- 
stituting for  the  latter  phiase  the  condition  that  each  country  should 
by  means  of  her  exports  discharge  all  her  foreign  liabilities — in 
other  words,  by  introdncing  the  consideration  of  the  balance  of  debts. 
This  idea  was  not  new ;  it  had  been  indicated  by  J.  L.  Foster  as 
early  as  1804,  and  was  touched  on  by  Jlill  himself ;  but  he 
expounds  it  well;  and  it  is  important  as  clearing  away  common 
misconceptions,  and  sometimes  removing  gi-oundless  alaims.  Pass- 
ing to  the  question  of  free  trade,  he  disposes  of  some  often-repeated 
protectionist  arguments,  and  in  particular  refutes  the  American 
allegation  of  the  inability  of  the  highly-paid  labour  of  that  country 
to  compete  with  the  "  pauper  labour "  of  Europe.  He  is  not  so 
successful  in  meeting  the  "political  argument,"  founded  on  the 
admitted  intportance  for  civilization  of  developing  diversified  .na- 
tional industries  ;  and  ho  meets  only  by  one  of  the  highly  ques- 
tionable commonplaces  of  the  doctrinaire  economists  Mill's  pro- 
position that  protection  may  foster  nascent  industries  really  adapted 
to  a  country  till  they  have  struck  root  and  are  ab]e  to  endure  the 
stress  of  foreign  competition. 

We  have  dwelt  at  some  length  on  this  work  of  Caii-nes,  not  only 
because  it  presents  the  latest  forms  of  several  accepted  economic 
doctriues,  but  also  because  it  is,  nnd,  we  believe,  will  remain, 
the  last  important  product  of  the  old  English  school.  The  author 
at  the  outset  expresses  the  hope  that  it  will  sti'engthen,  and  add 
consistence  to,  the  scientific  fabric  "built  up  by  the  labours  of 
Adam  Smith,  Malthns,  Ricardo,  and  Mill."  Whilst  recognizingwith 
him  the  great  merits  of  Smith,  and  the  real  abilities  and  services 
of  his'  three  successoi-s  here  named,  we  cannot  entertain  the  same 
opinion  as  Cairnes  respecting  the  permanence  of  the  fabric  they 
constructed.  We  hold  that  a  new  edifice  is  required,  incorporating 
indeed  many  of  the  materials  of  the  old,  but  planned  on  diffeient 
iile«s  and  in  some  respects  with  a  view  to  different  ends — above  all, 
resting  on  different  philosophic 'foundations,  and  having  relation  in 
its  whole  design  to  the  more  comprehensive  Structure  of  which  it 
will  form  but  one  department,  namely,  the  general  science  of  society. 

Wo  have  already  had  occasion  to  refer  to  Cairnes's  Essaj/s  in  Poli- 
tical Ecoytom;/,  ISrS.  His  Slave  Pomcr  (1862)  was  the  most  valuable 
work^vhich  appeared  on  the  subject  of  the  great  American  conflict. 
France,— All  the  later  European  schools  presuppose — iu 
part  adopting,  in  part  criticizing — the  work  of  the  English 
economists  from  Smith'  to  Kicardo  and  the  Epigoni.     The 

'  The  first  French  translation  of  the  Wealth  of  Naiiuns,  by  Blavet, 
appeared  in  the  Journal  de  t  Agriculture,  rfu  Cominene,  <ks  Finances, 
tt^cs  Arts,  1779-80  ;  new  editions  of  it  were  published  in  1781,- 
1788,  and  1800;  it  was  also  printed  at  Amsterdam  in  1784.  Smith 
himself  recommenicd  it  in  his  third  edition  'of  the  original  as  excellent.^ 
In  17D0  appeared  the  translation  by  Roucher,  with  notes  by  Condorcet,  ' 
anil  in  1802  that  by  Count  Germain  Gamier,  execnted-  during  hi8 
exile  iu  England,  which  is  now  considered  the  standard  Version,  and 
has  been  reproduced,  with  notes  by  Say,  Sismondi,  Blanqui,  fee,  in 
the  Collectinn  dts  Principnux  iiconomistes. 


German  school  has  had  in  a  greater  degree  than  any  othe? 
a  movement  of  its  own, — following,  at  least  in  its  more 
recent  period,  an  original  method,  and  tending  to  special 
and  characteristic  conclusions.  The  French  school,  on  the 
other  hand, — if  we  omit  the  socialists,  who  do  not  here  come 
under  consideration, — has  in  the  main  reproduced  the 
doctrines  of  the  leading  English  thinkers, — stopping  short, 
however,  in  general  of  the  extremes  of  Ricardo  and  his  dis-' 
ciples.  In  the  field  of  exposition  the  French  are  unrivalled  ;i 
and  in  political  economy  they  have  produced  a  series  of  more' 
or  less  remarkable  systematic  treatises,  text  books,  and  com-' 
pendiums,  at  the  head  of  which  stands  the  celebrated  work) 
of  J.  B.  Say.  *  But  the  number  of  seminal  minds  whicb! 
have  appeared  in  French  economic  literature — of  writers 
who  have  contributed  important  truths,  introduced  improve- 
ments of  method,  or  presented  the  phenomena  under  new 
lights — has  not  been  large.  Sismondi,  Dunoyer,fand 
Bastiat  will  deserve  our  attention,  as  being  the  most 
important  of  those  who  occupy  independent  positions 
(whether  permanently  tenable  or  not),  if  we  pass  over  for 
the  present  the  great  philosophical  renovation  of  Auguste 
Comte,  which  comprehended  actually  or  potentially  all  the 
branches  of  sociological  inquiry.  Before  estimating  the 
labours  of  Bastiat,  we  shall  find  it  desirable  to  examine 
the  views  of  Carey,  the .  most  renowned  of  American 
economists,  with  which  the  latest  teachings  of  the  ingeni- 
ous and  eloquent  Frenchman  are,  up  to  a  certain  point,  in 
remarkable  agreement.  Cournot,  too,  must  find  a  place 
among  the  French  writers  of  this  period,  as  the  chief 
representative  of  the  conception  of  a  mathematical  method 
in  political  economy. 

Of  Jean  Baptiste  Say  (1767-1832)  Eicardo  says— "He  Say 
was  the  first,  or  among  the  first,  of  Continental  writers  who 
justly  appreciated  and  applied  the  principles  of  Smith, 
and  has  done  more  than  all  other  Continental  writers  taken 
together  to  recommend  that  enlightened  and  beneficial 
system  to  the  nations  of  Europe."  The  Wealth  of  Nations 
in  the  original  language  was  placed  in  Say's  hands  by 
Claviere,  afterwards  minister,  then  director  of  the  assurance 
society  of  which  Say  was  a  clerk ;  and  the  book  made  a 
powerful  impression  on  him.  Long  after,  when  Dupont 
de  Nemours  complained  of  his  injustice  to  the  physiocrats, 
and  claimed  him  as,  through  Smith,  a  spiritual  grandson 
of  Quesnay  and  nephew  of  ^urgot,  he  replied  that  he  had 
learned  to  read  in  t'ae  writings  of  the  mercantile  school, 
had  learned  to  think  in  those  of  Quesnay  and  his  followers, 
but  that  it  was  iu  Smith  that  he  had  learned  to  seek  the 
causes  aiid  the  effects  of  social  phenomena  in  the  nature  of 
things,  and  to  arrive  at  this  last  by  a  scrupulous  analysis. 
His  Traite  eP&onomie  Politique  (1803)  was  e.'isentially 
founded  on  Smith's  work,  but  he  aimed  at  arranging  the 
materials  in  a  more  logical  and  instructive  order.  He  has 
the  French  art  of  easy  and  lucid  exposition,  though  his 
facility  sometimes  degenerates  into  superficiality ;  and 
hence  his  book  became  popular,  both  directly  and  through 
translations  obtained  a  wide  circulation,  and  diffused 
rapidly  through  the  civilized  world 'the  doctrines  of  the 
master  Say's  knowledge  of  common  life,  says  Koscher,' 
was  equal  to  Smith's ;  but  he  falls  far  below  him  in  living 
insight  into  larger  political  phenomena,  and  he  carefully 
eschews  historical  and  philosophical  explanations.  He  i| 
sometimes  stra,ngely  shallow,  as  when  he  says  that  ^t\iS 
best  tax  is  that  smallest  in  amount."  He  appears  not  to 
have  much  claim  ^to  the  position  of  aii  original  thinker  in 
political  ■  economy.'  Bicardo,  indeed, 'speaks 'of  him  as 
having'^ ^"enriched  .the  .  science,  iy.  severalt, discussions; 
original,  accurate,  and  profound."''  What  he  had  specially 
in  view  in  using  these  words  was  what  is,  perhaps  rather 
pretentiously,  caUed  Sa3''s  theorie  des  debouches,  ^vdth  hia 
connected  disproof  of  the  possibility  of  a  universal  glut. 


P  O  L  I  T  I  C  A  J.      E  C  O  N  O  31   Y 


383 


The  theory  amounts  simply  to  this,  that  buying  is  also 
selling,  and  that  it  is  by  producing  that  we  are  enabled  to 
purchase  the  products  of  others.  Several  distinguished 
economists,  especially  ^lalthus  and  Sismondi,  •  in  conse- 
quence chiefly  of  a  misinterpretation  of  the  phenomena  of 
commercial  crises,  maintained  that  there  might  be  general 
over-supply  or  excess  of  all  commodities  above  the  demand. 
This  Say  rightly  denied.  A  particular  branch  of  produc- 
tion ma)',  it  must  indeed  be  admitted,  exceed  the  existing 
capabilities  of  the  market ;  but,  if  we  remember  that 
aupply  is  demand,  that  commodities  are  purchasing  power, 
we  cannot  accept  the  doctrine  of  the  possibility  of  a  uni- 
versal glut  without  holding  that  we  can  have  too  much  of 
everything — that  "all  men  can  be  so  fully  provided  with 
the  precise  articles  they  desire  as  to  afford  no  market  for 
each  other's  .superfluities."  But,  whatever  services  he  may 
have  rendered  by  original  ideas  on  those  or  other  subjects, 
his  great  merit  is  certainly  that  of  a  propagandist  and 
popularizer. 

The  imperial  police  would  not  permit  a  second  edition 
of  his  work  to  be  issued  without  the  introduction  of 
changes  wliich,  with  noble  independence,  he  refused  to 
make;  and  that  edition  did  not  therefore  appear  till  1814. 
Three  other  editions  were  published  during  the  life  of  the 
author— in  1817,  1819,  and  1826.  In  1828  Say  published 
a  second  treatise,  Cours  complet  d'Economie  PoiUique 
Pratique,  which  contained  the  substance  of  his  lectures  at 
the  Conservatoire  des  jVrts  et  Metiers  and  at  the  College  de 
France.  Whilst  in  his  earlier  treatise  he  had  kept  within 
the  narrow  limits  of  strict  economics,  in  his  later  work  he 
enlarged  the  sphere  of  discussion,  introducing  in  particular 
many  considerations  respecting  the  economic  influence  of 
social  institutions. 

,  Jean  Charles  L.~  Simonde  de  Sismondi  (1773-1842), 
author  of  the  Bistoire  des  RepuUiqtces  Italiennes  du  moyen 
uye,  represents  in  the  economic  field  a  protest,  founded 
mainly  on  humanitarian  sentiment,  against  the  dominant 
doctrines.  He  wrote  first  a  treatise  De  la  Rickesse  Com- 
merciale  (1803),  in  which  he  followed  strictly  the  principles 
of  Adam  Smith.  But  he  afterwards  came  to  regard  these 
principles  as  insufficient  and  requiring  modification.  He- 
contributed  an  article  on  political  economy  to  the  Edin- 
huryh  An  ■yclopxdia,  in  which  his  new  views  were  partially 
indicated.  They  were  fully  developed  in  his  principal 
economic  work,  Nouveaux  Principes  d^Economu  Politique, 
ou  de  la  Richesse  dans  ses  rapports  avec  la  Population 
(1819;  2d  ed.,  1827).  This  work,  as  he  tells  us,  was  not 
received  with  favour  by  economists,  a  fact  which  he 
explains  by  the  consideration  that  he  had  "  attacked  an 
orthodoxy — an  enterprise  dangerous  in  philosophy  as  in 
religion."  ^  According  to  his  view,  the  science,  as  commonly 
understood^  was  too  much  of  a  mere  chrematistic :  it 
studied  too  exclusively  the  means  of  increasing  wealth, 
and  not  sufficiently  the  use  of  this  wealth  for  producing 
general  happiness.  The  practical  .system  founded  on  it 
tended,  as  he  believed,'  not  only  to  make  the  rich  richer, 
but  to  make  the  poor  poorer  and  more  dependent ;  and  he 
desired  to  fix  attention  on  the  question  of  distribution  a.s 
by  far  the  most  important,  especially  in  the  social  circum- 
stances of  recent  times. '  ^ 

The  personal  union  in  Sismondi  of  three  nationalities, 
th$  Italian,  the  French,  and  the  Swiss,  and  his  comprchen- 
eive  historical  studies,  gave  him  a  special  largeness  of 
view  ;  and  ho  was  filled  with  a  noble  .sympathy  for  the 
suffering  members  of  society.  He  stands  nearer  to  social- 
ism than  any  other  French  economist  proper,  but  it  is 
on^  tn  sentiment,  not  in  opinion,  that  he  approximates  to 
it ;  he  does  riot  recommend  any  socialistic  scheme.  On 
the  contrary,  he  declares  in  a  memorable  passage  that, 
whilst  he  sees  where  justice  lies,  he  must  confess  himself 


unable  to  suggest  the  means  of  realizing  it  in  practice; 
tlie  division  of  the  fruits  of  industry  between  those  who 
are  united  in  their  production  appears  to  him  vidous ;  but 
It  is,  in  his  judgment,  almost  beyond  human  power  tc 
conceive  any  system  of  property  absolutely  different  frbm 
that  which  is  known  to  us  by  experience.  He  goes  n3 
further  than  protesting,  in  view  of  the  gi-eat  evils  which 
he  saw  around  him,  against  the  doctrine  of  laissez  /aire, 
and  invoking,  somewhat  vaguely,  the  intervention  o{ 
Governments  to  "  regulate  the  progress  of  wealth  "  and  to 
protect  the  weaker  members  of  the  community. 

His  frank  confession  of  impotence,  far  wiser  anil  move  honour-' 
able  than  tlie  suggestion  of  precipitate  and  dangerous  remedies, 
or  of  a  lecurrence  to  outworn  me<liieval  institutions,  Ijas  not  affected 
the  reputation  of  the  work.  A  prejudice  was  indeed  early  created 
against  it  in  consequence  of  its  partial  harmony  of  tone,  though, 
as  we  have  seen,  not  of  policy,  with  socialism,  -nhich  was  then 
begimiiug  to  show  its  strength,  as  well  as  by  the  nide  way  iu 
which  his  descriptions  of  the  modern  indiistiial  system,  especially 
as  it  existed  in  England,  disturbed  the  complacent  optimism  of 
some  members  of  the  so-called  orthodox  school.  These  ti'eated  the 
book  with  ill-disguised  contempt,  and  Bastiat  spoke  of  it  a^ 
preaching  an  Sconoviie  politique  <i  rehours.  But  it  has  held  ita 
place  in  the  literature  of  the  science,  and  is  now  even  more  inter- 
esting than  when  it  first  ajipeared,  because  in  our  time  there  is  a 
more  general  disposition,  instead  of  denying  or  glossing  over  the 
serious  evils  of  industrial  society,  to  face  and  remove  or  at  least 
mitigate  them.  The  laissc:  /aire  doctrine,  too,  has  been  dis- 
credited in  theory  and  abandoned  in  practice  ;  and  wo  are  ready 
to  admit  Sismoudi's  view  of  the  state  as  a  power  not  merely 
intrusted  with  the  maintenance  of  peace,  but  charged  also  with  the 
mission  of  extending  the  benefits  of  the  social  union  and  of  uioderu 
progress  as  widely  as  possible  through  all  classes  of  the  community. 
Yet  the  impression  which  his  treatise  leaves  behind  it  is  a  dis- 
couraging one  ;  and  this  because  he  regards  as  essentially  evil  many 
things  which  seem  to  be  the  necessary  results  of  the  development 
of  industry.  The  growth  of  a  wealthy  capitalist  class  and  of 
manufacture  on  the  great  scale,  the  rise  of  a  vast  body  of  workers 
who  live  by  their  labour  alone,  the  extended  application  of 
machines,  large  landed  properties  cultivated  with  the  aid  of  the 
most  advanced  appliances — all  these  , he  dislikes  and  deprecates; 
but  they  appear  to  be  inevitable.  The  problem  is,  how  to  regulate 
and  moralize  the  system  they  imply  ;  but  we  must  surely  accept 
it  in  principle,  unless  we  aim  at  a  thorough  social  revolution.' 
Sismondi  may  be  regarded  as  the  precursor  of  the  German 
economi;,t3  known  under  the  inexact  designation  of  "Socialists 
of  the  Chair";  but  their  writings  are  much  more  hopeful  and 
in.spiring. 

To  the  subject  of  population  he  devotes  special  care,  as  of  greaf 
importance  for  the  welfare  of  the  working  classes.  So  far  as 
agriculturists  are  concerned,  ho  thinks  the  system  of  what  ho  calls 
patriarchal  exploitation,  wliere  the  cultivator  is  also  proprietor,' 
and  is  aided  by  Iiis  family  in  tilling  the  laud — a  law  of  equal 
division  among  the  natnral  heirs  being  apparently  presupposed — ' 
the  one  which  is  most  cfDcacious  in  preventing  an  undue  uicreaso 
of  the  population.  The  father  is,  iu  such  n  case,  able  distinctly 
to  estimate  the  resources  available  for  his  children,  and  to  deterraina 
the  stage  of  subdivision  which  would  necessitate  the  descent  of 
the  family  from  the  material  and  social  position  it  had  previously 
occupied.  When  children  beyoud  this  limit  are  born,  they  do  not 
marry,  or  they  choose  amonf;st  their  number  one  to  coutinue  the 
race.  This  is  the  view  which,  adopted  by  J.  S.  Mill,  makes  so 
great  a  figure  in  the  too  favourable  presentation  .by  that  writer  of 
the  system  of  peasant  proprietors. ' 

In  no  French  economic  writer  is  greater  force  or  general 
solidity  of  thought  to  be  found  than  in  Charles  Dunoyer 
(1786-1862),  author  of  La  Libnic  du  Travail  (1845;  the' 
Hub.stance  of  the  first  volume  had  apiicnrcd  under  a  differ- 
ent title  in  1825),  honourably  known  for  his  integrity  and 
independence  under  the  regime  of  the  Restoration.^  What 
makes  him  of  special  importance  in  the  history  of  the 
science  is  his  view  of  its  philo.sophical  coustitiition  and 
method.  With  respect  to  method,  he  strikes  the  keynote 
at  the  very  outset  in  the  words  "recherchor  cxp^ri- 
mcntalemcnt,"  and  in  professing  to  build  on  "  Ics  donnOes 
de  I'observation  et  do  I'cxjit'liencc."  Ho  shows  u  marked 
tendency  to  widen  economics  into  a  general  science  of 
society,  expres,sly  describing  political'  economy  lui  having 
for  its  province  the  whole  order  of  things  which  resuJU 
from  the.oxorcise  aid  develojimcBt  of. the  »oiJil  forces. 


384 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


[Thia  larger  study  is  indeed  better  named  sociology ;  and 
economic  studies  are  better  regarded  as  forming  one 
department  of  it.  But  the  essential  circumstance  is  that, 
Jn  Dunoyer's  treatment  of  his  great  subject,  the  widest 
intellectual,  moral,  and  political  considerations  are  insepar- 
ably combined  with  purely  economic  ideas.  It  must  not 
be  supposed  that  by  liberty,  in  the  title  of  his  work,  is 
ineant  merely  freedom  from  legal  restraint  or  administra- 
tive interference ;  he  uses  it  to  express  all  that  tends  to 
give'increased'  efficiency  to  labour.  He  is  thus  led  to 
discuss  all  the  causes  of  human  progress,  and  ^to  exhibit 
them  in  their  historical  working.  / 

Treathig,  in  the  first  part,  of  the  influence  of  external  conditions, 
of  raco,  and  of  culture  on  liberty  in  this  wider  sense,  he  proceeds 
to  divide  all  productive  effort  into  two  great  classes,  according  as 
the  action  is  exercised  ou  things  or  on  men,  and  censures  the 
econoihists  for  having  restricted  their  attention  to  the  former.  He 
Btadies  in  his  second  and  third  parts  respectively  the  conditions  of 
ihe  efficiency  of  these  two  forms  of  human  exertion.  In  treating  of 
Bcouomic  life,  strictly  so  called,  he  introduces  his  fourfold  division 
qt  material  industry,  in  part  adopted  by  J.  S.  Jlill,  as  "(1) 
fextractive,  (2)  roituri^re,  (3)  manufacturiere,  (4)  agricole,"  a 
division  which  is  useful  for  physical  economics,  but  will  always, 
fchen  the  larger  social  aspect  of  things  is  considered,  be  inferior 
(to  the  more  commonly  accepted  one  into  agricultural,  manufactur- 
ingj-and  commercial  iudiistiy,  banking  being  supposed  as  common 
^president  and  regulator.  Dunoyer,  having  in  view  only  action  on 
material  objects,  relegates  banking,  as  well  as  commerce  proper, 
,to  tlie  sepaiate  head  of  e.'cchange,  which,  along  with  association 
and  gratuitous  transmission  (whether  inter  vivos  or  mortis  causa), 
he  classes  apart  as  being,  not  industries,  iu  the  same  sense  with 
the  .occupations  qamed,  but  yet  functions  essential  to  the  social 
economy.  The  industries  which  act  on  man  he  divides  according  as 
they  occupy  themselves  with  (1)  the  amelioration  of  our  physical 
nature,  (2)  the  culture  ef  our  imagination  and  sentiments,  (3)  the 
'education  of  our  intelligence,  and  (4)  the  improvement  of  our 
moral  habits  ;  and  he  proceeds  accordingly  to  study  the  social 
bffices  of  the  physician,  the  artist,  the  educator,  and  the  priest. 

Ee  meet  in  Dunoyer  the  ideas  afterwards  emphasized  by  Bastiat 
at  the  real  subjeots  of  liuman  exchange  are  services ;  that  all 
jiraliie  is  due  to  human  activity  ;  that  the  powers  of  nature  always 
tender  a  gratuitous  assistance  to  the  labour  of  man  ;  and  that  the 
rent  of  land  is  really  a  form  of  interest  on  invested  capital, 
jiphough  he  had  disclaimed  the  task  of  a  practical  adviser  in  the 
often-quoted  sentence — "Je  n'iuipose  rien  ;  je  ne  propose  mfme 
rien  ;r 'expose,"  he  finds  himself,  like  all  economists,  unable  to 
abstam  frou  offering  counsel.  And  his  policy  is  opposed  to  any 
State  interference  with  industry.  Indeed  he  preaches  in  its 
extreme  rigour  the  laissez  fain  doctrine,  which-  he  maintains 
principally  on  the  ground  that  the  spontaneous  efforts  of  the 
mdividual  for  the  improvement  of  his  condition,  by  developing 
foresight,  energy,  and  perseverance,  are  the  most  efficient  means 
of.social  culture.  But  he  certainly  goes  too  far  when  he  represents 
the  action  of  Governments  as  normally  always  repressive  and  never 
dii-ective.  He  Was  doubtless  led  into  this  exaggeration  by  his 
opposition  to  the  artificial  organizations  of  labour  proposed  by  so 
many  of  his  conte'mporaries,  against  which  he  had  to  vindicate  the 
.principle  of  competition  ;  but  his  criticism  of  these  schemes  took, 
as  Courts  remarks,  too  absolute  a  character,  tending  to  the  per- 
petual interdiction  of  a  true  systematization  of  industry. 

'At  this  point  it  will  he  convenient  to  turn  aside"  and 
hotice  the  doctrines  of  the  American  economist  Carey. 
Not  much  had  been  done  before  him  in  the  science  by 
citizens  of  the  United  States.  Benjamin  Franklin,  other- 
,wise  of  world-wide  renown,  was  author  of  a  numbe'r  of 
tracts,  in  most  of  which  he  merely  enforces  practical 
lessons  of  industry  and  thrift,  but  in  some  throws  out 
interesting  theoretic  ideas.  Thus,  fifty  years  before  Smith, 
he  suggested  (as  Petty,  however,  had  already  done)  human 
labour  as  the  true  measure  of  value  {Modest  Inquiry  into 
the  Nature  and  Necessity  of  a  Paper  Currency,  1721),  and 
in  his  Observations  concerning  the  Increase  of  Mankind , 
(1751)  he' expresses  views  akin  to  those  of-Malthus. 
Alexander  Hamilton,  -  secretary  of  the  treasury,^  in  1791 
presented  in  his  official  capacity  to  the  House  of  Represan 
tatives  of  the  United  States  a  report  on  the  measures  by 
which  home  manufactures  could  be  promoted.  In  this 
document  he  gives  a  critical  account  of  the  theory  of  the 
subject,  represents  Smith's  system  of  free  trade  as  possible 


in  practice  only  if  adopted  by  all  nations  simultaneously, 
ascribes  to  manufactures  a  greater  productiveness  than  to 
agriculture,  and  seeks  to  refute  the  objections  against  the 
development  of  the  former'  in  America  founded  ou  .the 
want  of  capital,  the  high  rate  of  wages,  and  the  low  price 
of  land.  The  conclusion  at  which  he  arrives  is  that  for  thb 
creation  of  American  manufactures  a  system  of  moderate 
protective  duties  was  necessary,  and  he  proceeds  to  describe 
the  particular  features  of  such  a  system.  There  is  some 
reason  to  believe  that  the  German  economist  List,  of  whom 
we  shall  speak  hereafter,  was  influenced  by  Hamilton's 
work,  having,  during  his  exile  from  his  native  country, 
resided  in  the  same  State,  Pennsylvania,  of  which  Hamilton 
was  a  citizen. ' 

Henry  Charles  Carey  (1793-1879),  son  of  an  American 
citizen  who  had  emigrated  from  Ireland,  represents  a 
reaction  against  the  dispiriting  character .  which  the 
Smithian  doctrines  had  assumed  in  the  hands  of  Malthus 
and  Ricardo.  His  aim  was,  whilst  adhering  to  the  in- 
dividualistic economy,  to  place  it  on  a  higher  and  siirer 
basis,  and  fortify  it  against  the  assaults  of  socialism,  to 
which  some  of  the  Ricardian  tenets  had  exposed  it.  The 
most  comprehensive  as  well  as  mature  exposition  of  his 
views  is  contained  in  his  Principles  of  So<ial  Science 
(1859).  Inspired  with  the  optimistic  sentiment  natural 
to  a  young  and  rising  nation  with  abundant  undeveloped 
resources  and  an  unbounded  outlook  towards  the  future,' 
he  seeks  to  show  that  there  exists,  independently  of 
human  wills,  a  natural  system  of  economic  laws,  j.  which 
is  essentially  beneficent,"  and  of  which  the  increasing  \>rch 
sperity  of  the  whole  community,  and  especially  of.  the 
working  classes,  is  the  spontaneous  result, — capable  of 
being  defeated  only  by  the  ignorance  or  perversity  of 
man  resisting  or  impeding  its  action.'^  He  rejects  the 
Jlalthusian  doctrine  of  population,  maintaining  that 
numbers  regulate  themselves  sufficiently  ••  in  every  well 
governed  society,  and  that  their  pressure  on  subsistence 
characterizes  the  lower,  not  the  more  advanced,  stages  of 
civilization.  He  rightly  denies  the  universal  truth,  for  all 
stages  of  cultivation,  of  the  law  of  diminishing  returns 
from  land.  His  fundamental  theoretic  position_relate8_to 
the  antithesis  of  wealth  and  value. 

^  'Wealth  had  been  by  most  economists  confounded  with  the  sum' 
of  exchange  values ;  even  Smith,  though  at  first  distinguishing 
them,  afterwards  allowed  himself  to  fall  into  tliis  error.  Ricardo 
had,  indeed,  pointed  out  the  difference,  but  only  near  the  end  of  his 
treatise,  in  the  body  of  which  value  alone  is  colisidered.  The  later 
English  economists  had  tended  to  regard  their  studies  as  conversailt 
only  with  exchange;  so  far  had  this  proceeded  that  Whately  had 
proposed  for  the  science  the  name  of  Catallactics.  When  wealth  is 
considered  as  what  it  really  is,  the  sum  of  useful  products,  we  see 
that  it  has  its  origin  in  external  nature  as  supplying  both  materials 
and  physical  forces,  and  in  human  labour  as  appropriating  and 
adapting  those  natural  materials  and  forces.  Nature  gives  her 
assistance  gratuitously  ;  IJlbour  is  the  sole  £uundation  of  value.' 
The  less  we  can  approiiriate  and  emjjloy  natural  forces  in  any  pro- 
duction the  higher  the  value  of  the  product,  but  the  less  the 
addition  to  our  wealth  in  proportion  to  the  labour  cxpemled. 
'Wealth,  in  its  true  sense  of  the  sum  of  useful  things,  is  the 
measure  of  the  power  we  liave  acqiured  over  nature,  whilst  the 
value  of  an  object  expresses  the  resistance  of  nature  which  labour 
has  to  overcome  in  order  to  produce  the  object.  Wealth  steadily 
increases  in  the  coujse  of  social  progress  ;  the  exchange  value  of 
objects,  on  the  other  baud,  decreases.  Human  intellect  and  faculty 
of  social  combination  secQro  increased  command  over  natural 
powers,  .and  .use  ,  them  more  largely  In  production,  whilst  less 
labour  is  spent  in  achieving  each  result,  and  the  value  of  the  pro- 
duct accordingly  falls.  »The  value  of  the  article  is  not  fixed  by  its 
cost  of  production'in  tlie  past ;  what  really  determines  it  is  the 
cost  which  is  necessary  for  its  reproduction  urfdcr  the  present  con- 
ditions of  knowledge  and  skill.  The  dependence  of' value  on  cost,' 
so  interpreted,  Carey  holds  to  be  universally  true  ;  whilst  Kicardo 
maintained"  it  only  with  respect  to  objects  cajjable  of  indefinite 
multiplication,-  and  in  particular  did  not  regard  it  as  applicable  to 
theicase  of  land.  Ricardo  saw  in  the  productive  powers  of  land  a 
free  gift  of  nature  which  had  been  mouopolized  by  a  certain  tti:mbcc 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


385 


of  persons,  aud  which  became,  w  ith  the  increased  demand  lor  food, 
a  larger  and  larger  value  in  the  hands  of  its  possessors.  To  this 
value,  liowever,  as  not  being  the  result  of  labour,  the  owner  had  no 
rightlul  claim  ;  he  could  not  justly  demand  a  payment  for  what 
was  done  by  the  "original  and  indestructible  powers  of  the  soil." 
But  Carey  held  that  land,  as  we  are  concerned  with  it  in  industrial 
life,  is  really  an  instrument  of  production  which  has  been  formed 
03  sneh  by  man,  and  that  its  value  is  due  to  the  labour  e-vpended 
on  it  in  the  past, — though  measured,  not  by  the  sum  of  that  labour, 
but  by  the  labour  necessary  under  existing  csnditions  to  bring  new 
land  to  the  same  stage  of  productiveness.  He  studies  the  occupa- 
tion and  reclamation  of  laud  with  peculiar  advantage  as  au 
American,  for  whom  the  traditions  of  first  settlement  are  living 
and  fresh,  and  before  whose  eyes  the  process  is  indeed  still  going 
on.  The  difficulties  of  adapting  a  primitive  soil  to  the  work  of 
yielding  organic  products  for  man's  use  can  be  lightly  estimated 
only  by  an  inhabitant  of  a  country  long  under  cultivation.  It  is, 
in  Carey's  view,  the  overcoming  of  these  difficulties  by  arduous 
iind  continued  effort  that  entitles  the  first  occupier  of  land  to  his 
jiropcrty  in  the  soil.  Us  present  valuo  forms  a  very  small  propor- 
tion of  the  cost  e.\peuded  on  it,  because  it  represents  only  wLat 
would  be  required,  wUh  the  science  and  appliances  of  our  time,  to 
bring  the  laud  from  its  primitive  into  its  present  state.  Property 
iu  land  is  therefore  only  a  form  of  invested  cai)ital — a. quantity  of 
labour  or  the  fruits  of  labour  permanently  incorjiorated  with  the 
soil ;  for  which,  like  any  other  capitalist,  the  owner  is  compensated 
l>y  a  share  of  the  produce.  He  is  not  rewarded  for  what  is  done 
by  the  powers  of  nature,  aud  society  is  in  no  sense  defrauded  by 
Ilia  solo  possession.  The  so-called  Ricardian  theory  of  rent  is  a 
speculative  fancy,  contradicted  by  all  experience.  •  Cultivation  does 
not  in  fact,  as  that  theory  supposes,  begin  with  the  best,  and  move 
downwards  to  the  poorer  soils  in  the  order  of  their  inferiority.' 
The  light  and  dry  higher  lands  are  fiiSt  cultivated  ;  and  only  when 

Iiopulation  has  become  dense  and  capital  has  accumulated,  are  the 
ow-lying  lands,  with  their  greater  fertility,  but  also  with  their 
morasses,  inundations,  and  miasmas,  attacked  and  brought  into 
occupation.  Rent,  regarded  as  a  proportion  of  the  produce,  sinks, 
like  all  interest  on  capital,  in  process  of  time,  but,  as  an  absolute 
amount,  increases.  The  share  of  the  labourer  increases,  both  as 
a  proportion  and  an  absolute  amount.  And  thus  the  interests  of 
these  different  social  classes  are  in  haitnony. 

But,  Carey  proceeds  to  say,  in  order  that  this  harmonious 
jirogress  may  be  realized,  what  ia  taken  from  the  land  must  bo 
given  back  to  it.  All  the  articles  derived  from  it  are  really  separ- 
ated parts  of  it,  which  must  be  restored  on  pain  of  its  exhaustion. 
Hence  the  producer  and  the  consumer  must  be  close  to  each  other; 
the  products  must  not  be  exported  to  a  foreign  country  in  exchange 
for  its  manufactures,  and  thus  go  to  enrich  as  manure  a  foreign  soil. 
In  immediate  exchange  value  the  landowner  may  gain  by  such 
exportation,  but  the  productive  powers  of  the  land  will  suffer. 
And  thus  Carey,  who  had  set  out  as  an  earnest  advocate  of  free 
trade,  arrives  at  the  doctrine  of  protection:  the  "co-ordinating 
power"  in  society  must  intervene  to  prevent  private  advautage 
from  working  public  mischief  He  attributes  his  conversion  on 
this  question  to  his  observation  of  the  effects  of  liberal  and  protec- 
tive tariffs  respectively  on  American  prosperity.  This  observation, 
he  says,  threw  him  back  on  theory,  and  led  him  to  .see  that  the 
intervention  referred  to  might  be  necessary  to  remove  (as  he  phrases 
it)  the  obstacles  to  the  progress  of  younger  communities  created  by 
the  action  of  older  and  wealthier  nations.  But  it  seems  probable 
that  the  influence  of  List's  writings,  added  to  his  own  deep-rooted 
and  hereditary  jealousy  and  dislike  of  English  predominance,  had 
something  to  do  with  his  change  of  attitude. 

The  practical  conclu.iion  at  which  he  thus  arrived,  though  it  is 
by  no  means  in  contradiction  to  the  doctrine  of  the  existence  of 
natural  economic  Ihws,  accords  but  ill  with  his  optimistic  scheme; 
and  another  tfcOnomLst,  accepting  his  fundamental  ideas,  applied 
himself  to  remove  the  foreign  accretion,  as  he  regarded  it,  and  to 
preach  the  theory  of  spontaneous  social  |inrinonies  in  relation  with 
the  practice  of  free  trade  as  its  legitimate  outcome. 

Fr<5d(;ric  Bastiat  (1801-1850),  though  not  a  profound 
thinker,  was  a  brilliant  and  popular  writer  on  economic 
que.stions.  Though  he  always  had  an  inclination  for  such 
studies,  he  was  first  imiielled  to  the  active  propagation 
of  his  views  by  his  earnest  sympathy  with  the  English 

'  It  is,  however,  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  assumption  of  this 
historical  order  of  descent  is  essential  to  the  theory  in  question. 

'  This  argument  seems  SI  aroely  met  by  Prof.  F.  A.  Walker,  Political 
Economy,  50-52.  But  perhaps  he  ia  right  in  thinking  that  Carey  exag- 
gerates the  importance  of  the  considerations  on  which  it  is  founded. 
Mill  and  Leslie  remark  that  the  tmnsporlation  of  agricultunil  pro- 
ducts from  the  western  to  the  Atlantic  States  has  the  same  clfeet  as 
their  export  to  Europe,  so  far  as  this  so-called  "  land-butchery  "  is 
coocemcd  ;  besides,  some  manures  are  ohtai.noblo  from  abroad. 


anti-corn-law  agitation.  Naturally  of  an  ardent  tempera- 
ment, he  threw  himself  with  zeal  into  the  free-trade  con- 
troversy, through  which  he  hoped  to  influence  French 
economic  policy,  and  published  in  1845  a  history  of 
the  struggle  under  the  title  of  Cobden  et  la  Ligue.  In 
1845-48  appeared  his  Sophismes  £conomifjues  (Ehg.  trans, 
by  P.  J.  Stirling,  1873),  in  which  he  exhibited  his  best 
qualities  of  mind.  Though  Cairnes  goes  too  far  in  compar- 
ing this  work  with  the  Leltres  Provinciales,  it  is  certainly 
marked  by  much  liveliness,  point,  and  vigour.  But  to 
expose  the  absurdities  of  the  ordinary  protectionism  was 
no  difficult  task  ;  it  is  only  in  such  a  form  as  the  doctriae 
assumed  in  the  hands  of  List,  as  a  purely  provisional  and 
preparatory  scheme,  that  it  deserves  and  demands  con- 
sideration. After  the  revolution  of  1848,  which  for  a 
time  put  an  end  to  the  free-trade  movement  in  France,  the 
efforts  of  Bastiat  were  directed  against  the  socialists. 
Besides  several  minor  pieces  possessing  the  same  sort  of 
merit  as  the  Saphismes,  he  produced,  with  a  view  to  this  con- 
troversy, his  most  ambitious  as  well  as  characteristic  work, 
the  Harmonies  £conomi(iues  (Eng.  trans,  by  P.  J.  Stirling, 
1860).  Only  the  first  volume  was  published;  it  appeared 
in  1850,  and  its  author  died  in  the  same  year.  Since 
then  the  notes  and  sketches  which  he  had  prepared  as 
materials  towards  the  production  of  the  second  volume 
have  been  given  to  the  public  in  the  collected  edition  of 
his  writings  (by  Paillottet,  with  Life  by  Fontenay,  7  vols.), 
and  we  can  thus  gather  what  would  have  been  the  spirit 
and  substance  of  the  later  portions  of  the  book. 

It  will  always  be  historically  interesting  as  the  last 
incarnation  of  thorough-going  economic  optimism.  This 
optimism,  recurring  to  its  first  origin,  sets  out  from  theo- 
logical considerations,  and  Bastiat  is  commended  by  his 
English  translator  for  treating  political  economy  "in  con- 
nexion with  final  causes."  The  spirit  of  the  work  is  to 
•epresenf  "  all  principles,  all  motives,  all  springs  of  action, 
all  interests,  as  co-operating  towards  a  grand  final  result 
which  humanity  will  never  reach,  but  to  which  it  will 
always  increasingly  tend,  namely,  the  indefinite  approxima- 
tion of  all  classes  towards  a  level,  which  steadily  rises, — in 
other  words,  the  equalization  of  individuals  in  the  general 
amelioration." 

What  claimed  to  be  novel  and  peculiar  in  his  scheme 
was  principally  his  theory  of  value.  Insisting  on  the  idea 
that  value  does  not  denote  anything  inherent  in  the 
objects  to  which  it  is  attributed,  he  endeavoured  to  show 
that  it  never  signifies  anything  but  the  ratio  of  two 
"  services."  This  view  he  develops  with  great  variety  and 
felicity  of  illustration.  Only  the  mutual  services  of  human 
beings,  according  to  him,  possess  value  and  can  claim  a 
retribution  ;  the  a.ssistance  given  by  nature  to  the  work 
of  production  is  always  purely  gratuitous,  and  never  en- 
ters into  price.  Economic  progress,  as,  for  example,  the 
improvement  and  larger  use  of  machinery,  tends  perpetu- 
ally to  transfer  more  and  more  of  the  elements  of  utility 
from  the  domain  of  property,  and  thcioforo  of  value, 
into  that  of  community,  or  of  universal  aiiTl  unpurchased 
enjoyment.  It  will  be  observed  that  this  theory  is  sub- 
stantially identical  with  Carey's,  which  had  been  carlici 
propounded ;  and  the  latter  author  in  so  many  words 
alleges  it  to  have  been  taken  from  him  without  acknow- 
ledgment. It  has  not  perhaps  been  sullicicntly  attended 
to  tliat  very  similar  views  are  found  in  Dunoyer,  of  whoso 
work  Bastiat  spoke  as  exercising  a  ])owcrful  influence  on 
"  the  restoration  of  tlio  science,"  and  whom  Foutenay,  the 
biographer  of  Bastiat,  tells  us  lie  recognized  as  one  of  his 
masters,  Charles  Comte  being  the  other. 

The  mode  which  hos  jnst  been  explained  of  conceiving  ioduslri.il 
action  and  industrial  progress  is  interesting  and  instructive  so  far  u 
it  is  leallv  applicable,  tint  it  was  unduly  generalized.     Cairnn  hu 

XTX.—    *» 


'386 


POLITICAL     ECONOI\rY 


well  pointed  out  tliat  Bastiat's  theoretic  soundness  was  injuriously 
affected  by  his  habit  of  studying  doctrines  with  a  direct  view  to 
contemporary  social  and  political  controversies.  He  was  thus  predis- 
posed to  accept  views  which  appeared  to  lend  a  sanction  to  legitimate 
and  valuable  institutions,  and  to  reject  those  which  seemed  to  him  to 
lead  to  dangerous  conseijuences.  His  constant  aim  is,  as  he  him- 
self expressed  it,  to  "break  the  weapons"  of  antisocial  reassners 
"in  their  hands,"  and  this  preoccupation  interferes  with  the  single- 
Jninded  effort  towards  the  attainment  of  scientific  truth.  -  The 
treation  or  adoption  of  his  theory  of  value  was  inspired  by  the  wish 
to  meet  the  socialistic  criticism  of  property  in  land  ;  for  the 
txigencies  of  this  controversy  it.  was  desirable  to  be  able  to  show 
that  nothing  is  ever  paid  for  except  personal  effort.  His  view  of 
rent  was,  therefore,  so  to  speak,  foreordained,  though  it  may  have:* 
been  suggested,  as  indeed  the  editor  of  his  posthumous  fragments 
admits,  by  the  writings  of  Carey.  He  held,  with  the  American 
writer,  that  rent  is  purely  the  reward  of  the  pains  and  expeuditure  of 
tlie  landlord  or  his  predecessors  in  the  process  of  converting  the 
natural  soil  into  a/arm  by  clearing,  draining,  fencing,  and  the  other 
species  of  permanent  improvements.'  He  thus  gets  rid  of  the  (so- 
called)  Ricanlian  doctrine,  which  was  accepted  by  the  socialists,  and 
by  them  used  for  the  purpose  of  assailing  the  institution  of  landed 
f)roperty,  or,  at  least,  of  supporting  a  claim  of  compensation  to  the 
community  for  the  appropriation  of  the  land  by  the  concession  of  the 
"right  to  labour."  As  Cairnes  has  said,  "what  Bastiat  did  was 
this  :  having  been  at  infinite  pains  to  exclude  gratuitous  gifts 
6f  nature  from  thg  possible  elements  of  value,  and  pointedly 
identified  [rather,  associated]  the  phenomenon  with  '  human  effort ' 
is  its  exclusive  source,  he  designates  human  effort  by  the  term 
'service,'  and  then  employs  this  term  to  admit  as  sources  of  value 
those  very  gratuitous  natural  gifts  the  exclusion  of  which  in  this 
capacity  constituted  the  essence  of  his  doctrine."  The  justice  of 
this  criticism  will  be  apparent  to  any  one  who  considers  the  way  iu 
which  Bastiat  treats  the  question  of  the  value  of  a  diamond.  That 
what  is  paid  for  iu  most  cases  of  human  dealings  is  ejfort  no  one 
can  dispute.  But  it  is  snrely  a  rcductio  ad  absurdum  of  his  theory 
6f  value,  regarded  as  a  doctrine  of  universal  application,  to  repre- 
sent the  price  of  a  diamond  which  has  been  accidentally  found 
as  remuneration  for  the  effort  of  the  finder  in  appropriating  and 
transmitting  it.  And,  with  respect  to  land,  whilst  a  large  part  of 
rent,  iu  the  popular  sense,  nuist  be  explained  as  interest  on  capital, 
It  is  plain  that  the  native  powers  of  the  soil  are  capable  of  appro- 
priation, and  that  then  a  price  can  be  demanded  and  wiU  be  paid 
for  their  use. 

Bastiat  is  weak  on  the  philosophical  side;  he  is  filled 
with  the  ideas  of  theological  teleology,  and  is  led  by  these 
ideas  to  form  a  priori  opinions  of  what  existing  facts  and 
laws  must  necessarily  be.  And  the  jus  natures,  which, 
like  metaphysical  ideas  generally,  has  its  root  in  theology, 
is  as  much  a  postulate  with  him  as  with  the  physiocrats. 
Thus,  in  his-  essay  on  Free  Trade,  he  says  : — "  Exchange 
is  a  natural  right  like  property.  Every  citizen  who  has 
created  or  acquired  a  product  ought  to  have  the  option  ef 
either  applying  it  immediately  to  hi3  own  use  or  ceding  it 
to  whosoever  on  the  surface  of  the  globe  consents  to  give 
him  in  exchange  the  object  of  his  desires."  Something  of 
the  same  sort  had  been  said  by  Turgot ;  and  in  his  time 
this  way  of  regarding  things  was  excusable,  and  even  pro- 
visionally useful ;  but  in  the  middle  of  the  i9th  century  it 
was  time  that  it  should  be  seen  through  and  abandoned. 

Bastiat  had  a  real  enthusiasm  for  a  sciente  which  he 
thought  destined  to  render  great  services  to  mankind,  and 
he  seems  to  have  believed  intensely  the  doctrines  which 
gave  a  special  colour  to  his  teaching.  If  his  optimistic 
exaggerations  favoured  the  propertied  classes,  they  certainly 
were  not  pronipted  by  self-interest  or  servility!  But  they 
are  exaggerations ;  and,  amidst  the  modem  conflicts  of 
capital  and  labour,  his  perpetual  assertion  of  social  har- 
monies is  the  cry  of  peace,  peace,  where  there  is  no  peace. 
The  freedom  of  industry,  which  he  treated  as  a  sort  of 
panacea,  has  undoubtedly  brought  with  it  great  benefits ; 
but  a  sufficient  experience  h&s  shown  that  it  is  inadequate 
to  solve  the  social  problem.  How  can  the  advocates  of 
aconomic  revolution  be  met  by  assuring  them  that  every- 
i, . . 

'  M.  Leroy-Beaulieu  has  recently  maintained  {Essai  sur  la  Rlparti- 
Hon  des  Jiichesses,  2d  ed.,  18S2)  that  this,  though  not  strictly,  is 
approximately  true. — that  economic  forms  a  very  small  part  of  actual 
lent. 


thing  in  the  natural  economy  is liarmonious — that,  ?n  fact, 
all  they  seek  for  already  exists  1  ^  A  certain  degree  o£ 
spontaneous  harmony  does  indeed  exist,  for  society  could 
not  continue  without  it,  but  it  is  imperfect  and  precarious  ; 
the  question  is,  How  can  we  give  to  it, the  maiimum  of 
completeness  and  stability  1  ^  __ 

Augustin  Cournot  (1801-1877;  appears  to  hive'beeu 
the  first  (the  GermanJ'H.  H.  Gossen,  praised  by  Jevons,* 
wrote  in  1854)  who,  with  a  competent  knowledge  of  both 
subjects,  endeavoured  to  apply  mathematics  to  tha  treati 
ment  of  economic  questions.    His  treatise  entitled Reckerckes 
sur  les  Principes  Mathematiques  de  la  Theorie  des  Rickesse^ 
was   published  in   1838.      He   mentions  in  it  only  oru» 
previous  enterprise  of  the  same  kind  (though  there  had 
in  fact  been  others) — that,  namely,  of  Nicolas  Francois 
Canard,  whose  book,  published  in  1802,  was  crowned  by  the 
Institute,  though  "its  principles  were  radically  false  as  well 
as  erroneously  applied."     Notwithstanding  Coumot's  just 
reputation  as  a   writer '^on   mathematics,  the  Recherches 
made  little  impression.  '  The  truth  seems  to  be  that  his 
results  are  in  some  cases-of  little  importance,  in  others  of 
questionable  correctness,  and  that,  in  the  abstractions  to 
which  he  has  recourse  in  order  to  facilitate  his  calculations, 
an  essential  part  of  the  real  conditions  of  the  problem  is 
sometimes  omitted.     His  pages  abound  in  symbols  repre- 
senting unknown  functions,  the  form  of  the  function  bein^ 
left  to  be  ascertained  by  observation  of  facts,  which  he 
does  not  regard  as  a  part  of  his  task,  or  only  soma  known 
properties   of  the   undetermined   function   being  used  aa 
bases  for  deduction.     Jevons  includes  in  his  list  of  works 
in  which  a  mathematical  treatment  of  economics  is  adopted 
a  second  treatise  which  Cournot  published  in  1B63,  with 
the    title  Principes  de  la  Theorie  des  Richesses.     But  in 
reality,  in  the  work  so  named,  which  is  written  with  great 
ability,  and  contains  much  forcible  reasoning  in  opposition 
to  the  exaggerations  of  economic  optimists,  the  mathe- 
matical method  is  abandoned,  and  there  is  not  an  algebrai- 
cal formula  in  the  book.     The   author  admits   that  the 
public   has   always   shown  a    repugnance   to  the  use  of 
mathematical  symbols  in  economic  discussion,  and,  though 
he  thinks  they  might  be  of  service  in  facilitating  exposi- 
tion, fixing  the  ideas,  and  suggesting  further  dev-^lopments, 
he  acknowledges  that  a  grave  danger  attends  their  use. 
The  danger,  according  to  him,  consists  in  the  j'robability 
that    an   undue    value  may  be    attached  to  tb?  abstract 
hypotheses   from    which   the   investigator  sets   out,   and 
which  enable  him    to  construct   his   formulae.     And   his 
practical  conclusion  is  that  mathematical  processes  should 
be   employed  only  with   great   precaution,    or   even   not 
employed  at  all  if  the  public  judgment  is  against  them,  for 
"this  judgment,"  he  says,  "has  its  secret  reasons,  almost' 
always  more  sure  than  those  which  determine  the  opinions 
of  individuals."     It  is  an  obvious  consideration  that  .the 
acceptance  of  unsound  or  one-sided  abstract  principles  aa 
the  premises  of  argument  does  not  depend  on  the  use  of 
mathematical  forms,  though  it  is  possible  that  the  employ- 
ment of  the  latter  may  by  association  produce  an  illusion 
in  favour   of  the  certainty  of  those  premises.''  But  the 
great  objection  to  the   use  of  mathematics' in   economic 
reasoning  is  that  it  is  necessarily  sterile.  J  If  we  examine 
the  attempts  which  have  been  made  to  employ  it,  we  shall 
find  that  the  fundamental  conceptions  on  which  the  deduc- 
tions are  made  to  rest  are  vague,  indeed  metaphy.sical,  in 
their  character.     Units  of  animal  or  moral  satisfaction,  of 
utility,  and  the  like  are  as  foreign  to  positive  science  a.<j  a 
unit  of  dormitive  faculty  would  be  ;  and  a  unit  of  value, 
unless  we  understand  by  value  the  quantity  of  one^ra- 
modity  exchangeable  under  given  conditions  'Jbr  another, 
is   an  equally  indefinite  idea.     Mathematics  .can'.jndeeii 
formulate  ratios  of  exchange  when  they  havoa'    '" 


r  ,0  1.  1  T  1  C  A  L     E  e^  O  N  O  M  Y 


387 


observed ; '  but  it  cannot  by  any  process  of  its  own  de- 
termine those  ratios,  for  quantitative  conclusions  imply 
<]uantitative  premises,  and  tliese  are  wanting.  There  is 
then  no  future  for  tliis  kind  of  study,  and  it  is  only  waste 
of  intellectual  power  to  pursue  it.  But  the  importance  of 
mathematics  as  an  educational  introduction  to  all  the 
higher  orders  of  research  is  not  affected  by  this  conclusion. 
The  study  of  the  physical  medium,  or  environment,  in 
which  economic  phenomena  take  place,  and  by  which  they 
are  atl'ected,  requires  mathematics  as  an  instrument;  and 
nothing  can  ever  dispense  with  the  didactic  efficacy  of 
that  science,  as  supplying  the  primordial  type  of  rational 
investigation,  giving  the  lively  sentiment  of  decisive  proof, 
and  disinclining  the  mind  to  illusory  conceptions  and 
sophistical  combinations.  And  a  knowledge  of  at  least  the 
fundamental  principles  of  mathematics  is  necessary  to  econo- 
mists to  keep  them  right  in  their  statements  of  doctrine, 
and  prevent  their  enunciating  propositions  which  have 
no  definite  meaning.  _  Even  distinguished  writers  some- 
times betray  a  serious  deficiency  in  this  respect ;  thus  they 
assert  that  one  quantity  "  varies  inversely  as "  another, 
when  what  is  meant  is  that  the  sum  (not  the  product)  of 
the  two  is  constant ;  and  they  treat  as  capable  of  numerical 
estimation  the  amount  of  an  aggregate  of  elements  which, 
differing  in  kind,  cannot  be  reduced  to  a  common  standard. 
As  an  example  of  the  latter  error,  it  may  be  mentioned 
that  "  quantity  of  labour,"  so  often  spoken  of  by  Ricardo, 
and  in  fact  made  the  basis  of  his  system,  includes  such 
various  species  of  exertion  as  will  not  admit  of  summa- 
tion or  comparison. 

Italj/. — The  first  Italian  translation  of  the  Wealth  of 
Nations  appeared  in  1780.  The  most  distinguished  Italian 
economist  of  the  period  here  dealt  with  was,  however,  no 
disciple  of  Smith.  This  was  Melchiorro  Gioja,  author, 
besides  statistical  and  other  writings,  of  a  voluminous 
work  entitled  Nuovo  Prospetto  delle  Science  Economiche  (6 
vols.,  1815-17  ;  the  work  was  never  completed),  intended 
to  be  an  encyclopredia  of  all  that  had  been  taught  by 
theorists,  enacted  by  Governments,  or  effected  by  popula- 
tions in  the  field  of  public  and  private  economy.  It  is  a 
learned  and  able  treatise,  but  so  overladen  with  quotations 
and  tables  as  to  repel  rather  than  attract,  readers.  •  Gioja 
admired  the  practical  economic  system  of  England,  and 
enlarges  on  the  advantages  of  territorial  properties,  manu- 
factures, and  mercantile  enterprises  on  the  large  as  opposed 
to  the  small  scale.  He  defends  a  restrictive  policy,  and 
insists  on  the  necessity  of  the  action  of  the  state  as  a 
guiding,  supervising,  fid  regulating  power  in  the  indus- 
trial world.  But  he  ii,  m  full  sympathy  with  the  sentiment 
of  his  age  against  ecclesiastical  domination  and  other  medi- 
eeval  survivals.  Wc  can  but  very  briefly  notice  Romagnosi 
^d.  1835),  who,  by  his  contributions  to  periodical  literature, 
ind  by  his  personal  teaching,  greatly  influenced  the 
course  of  economic  thought  in  Italy  ;  Antonio  Scialoja 
(Principii  d'£conomia  SociaU,  1810;  and  Careslia  e 
Governo,  1853),  an  able  advocate  of  free  trade  (d.  1877); 
Luigi  Cibrario,  well  known  as  the  author  of  Economia 
rolilica  del  medio  evo  (1839  ;  5th  cd.  1861 ;  French  trans. 
by  Barneaud,  1859),  which  is  in  fact  a- view  of  the  whole 
social  system  of  that  period  ;  Girolamo  Boccardo  (b.  1829; 
Trattato  Teorico-pratko  di  Economia  politica,  1853) ; 
the  brilliant  controversialist  Francesco  Ferrara,  profes.sor 
at  Turin  from  1849  to  1858  (in  whose  school  most  of  the 
present  Italian  teachers  of  the  science  were,  directly  or 
indirectly,  educated),  a  partisan  of  the  laiisez  /aire  doc- 
trine in  its  most  extreme  form,  and  an  advocate  of  the 
peculiar  opinions  of  Carey  and  Bastiat  on  the  subject  of 
rent :  and,  lastly,  the  Neapolitan  minister  Ludovico  Bian- 
chini  (Pi-incipii  delta  Sciema  del  lifti  Vivere  SociaJt,  1845 
and  1855),  who  is  remarkable  as  having  followed  in  some 


degree  an  historical  direction,  and  asserted  the  principle 
of  relativity,  and  who  also  dwelt  on  the  relations  of 
economics  with  morals,  by  a  due  attention  to  which  the 
Italian  economists  have,  indeed,  in  general  been  honourably 
distinguished. ' 

Spain. — The"^  Wealth  of  'N'altons~w&a  translated  into' 
Spanish  by  Ortiz  in  1794.  ■  It  may  perhaps  have  influenced 
Caspar  de  Jovellanos,  who  in  1795  presented  to  the  council 
of  Castile  and  printed  in  the  same  year  his  celebrated 
Infonne  de  la  Sociedad  Economica  de  Madrid  en  expedient 
de  Ley  Agraria,  which  was  a  powerful  plea  for  reform, 
especially  in  taxation  and  the  laws  affecting  agriculture, 
including  those  relating  to  the  systems  of  entail  and  mort 
main.  An  English  version  of  this  memoir  is  given  in  the 
translation  (1809)  of  Laborde's  Spain,  vol.  iv. 

Germany. — Eoscher  observes  that  Smith  did  not  at  first 
produce  much  impression  in  Germany.^  He  does  not  appear 
to  have  been  known  to  Frederick  the  Great ;  he  certainly 
exercised  no  influence  on  him.  Nor  did  Joseph  II.  take 
notice  of  his  work.  And  of  the  minor  German  princes,  Karl 
Friedrich  of  Baden,  as  a  physiocrat,  would  not  be  accessible 
to  his  doctrines.  It  was  otherwise  in  the  generation  whose 
principal  activity  belongs  to  the  first  decade  of  the  19th 
century.  The  Prussian  statesmen  who  were  grouped  round 
Stein  had  been  formed  as  economists  by  Smith,  as  had  also 
Gentz,  intellectually  the  most  important  man  of  the 
Metternich  regime  in  Austria.  ' 

The  first  German  expositors  of  Smith  who  did  more  than  merely 
reproduce  liis  opinions  were  Cliristiau  Jacob  Kraus  (1753-1807), 
CeorgSartorius  (1766-1828),  and  August  Ferdinand  Liider  (1760- 
1819J.  They  contributed  indepeii'-' -nt  views  from  different  stand- 
points,— the  first  from  that  of  tlie  eiTect  of  Smith's  doctrine  on 
practical  government,  the  second  from  that  of  its  bearing  on 
history,  tlie  third  from  that  of  its  relation  to  statistics.  Some- 
what latter  came  Gottlieb  Hufeland  (1760-1817),  Johann  Friedrich 
Eusebius  Lotz  (1771^1838),  and  Ludwig  Heinrich  von  Jakob 
(1759-1827),  who,  whilst  essentially  of  the  school  of  Smith,  apply 
themselves  to  a  revision  of  tlie  fundamental  conceptions  of  the 
science.  These  authors  did  not  exert  anything  Uko  the  wide 
influence  of  Say,  partly  on  account  of  tlio  less  attractive  form  of 
their  writings,  but  cliielly  because  Germany  had  not  then,  like 
France,  a  European  audience.  Julius  von  Soden  (1754-1831)  is 
largely  founded  on  Smith,  whom,  however,  ho  criticizes  with  undue 
severity,  especially  in  regard  to  his  form  and  arrangement ;  the 
lyealLh  of  Nations  ho  describes  as  a  series  of  precious  fragments, 
and  censures  Smith  for  the  absence  of  a  comprehensive  view  of  bis 
whole  subject,  and  also  as  one-sidedly  English  in  his  tendencies. 

The  highest  form  of  the  Smithian  doctrine  in  Germany 
is  represented  by  four  distinguished  names: — Karl  Heinrich 
Rau    (1792-1870),    Friedrich    Nebehius    (1784-1857), 
Friedrich  Benedict  Wilhelm  Hermann  (1795-1868),  and.. 
Johann  Heinrich  von  Thiinen  (1783-1850). 

Rau's  characteristic  \%  "erudite  thoroughness."  Hia  LfJirbuch  Raiu 
(1826-32)  is  an  eiicycloptedia  of  all  that  up  to  his  time  had  appeared 
in  Germany  under  the  several  heads  of  Volkswirlhsciiaftalehre, 
Volh-xwiTlhschaftspolilik,  and  Finan:wissmscha/l.  His  book  is  rich 
in  statistical  observations,  and  is  particularly  instructive  on  Uie 
economic  cfl'ects  of  different  googrimhical  conditions.  It  is  well 
adapted  for  the  teaching  of  public  servants  whose  duties  are  con- 
nected with  economics,  and  it  has  in  fact  been  the  sonreo  from 
which  the  German  oflicial  world  down  to  the  present  time  lio« 
derived  its  knowledge  of  the  science.  In  liis  earlier  period  Itau 
had  insiated  on  the  necessity  of  a  reform  of  economic  doctrine 
{Ansichtcn  lie.r  Votkawirnischaft.  1821),  nud  liad  tended  towards 
relativity  and  the  historical  method  ;  but  he  aftorwnrds  conceived 
the  mi.itiiken  notion  that  that  method  "only  looked  into  the  past 
without  studying  the  moans  of  improving  the  present,"  and  became 
himself  purely  practical  in  the  narrower  sense  of  that  word.  Ho 
has  the  merit  of  having  given  a  Boparnto  treatment  of  I'ntrnvhmtr- 
j7ri«n»i,'or  wages  of  management.  The  Hninsian  minister  Nebe- 
nius,  who  was  largely  instniniuntal  in  the  foundation  of  the  Zi"2, 
vereiu,  was  author  of  a  hiwhly  cst.>fnied  monograph  on  public 
credit  (1820).     The  SlaatswirUuichaftlkhe  VixttTsuchungcn  (1882; 

'  The  first  Gorman  version  of  the  Wtalth  nf  Nalipnt  was  that  by 
Johann  Friedrich  Schiller,  published  1776-78.  Tlio  second,  which  is 
the  first  goo<i  one,  was  by  Christian  Garco  (1791,  and  again  1799  and 
1810).     A  recent  one  by  C.  W.  A.slior  (1801)  Is  highly  oomniendeJ. 


388 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


j2d  eJ.,  1870)  of  Hermann  do  not  form  a  regular  system,  tut  treat 
a  series  of  im))ortaut  special  subjects.     His  rare  technological  know- 
ledge gave  him  a  great  advantage  in  dealing  vrith  some  economic 
questions.   •  He  reviewed   the  principal   fundamental  ideas  of  the 
science  with  great  thoroughness  and  acuteness.      "His  strength," 
says  Roscher,  "lies  in  his  clear,  sharp,  exhaustive  distinction  be- 
tween the  several  elements  of  a  complex  conception,  or  the  several 
steps  comprehended  in  a  complex  act."     For  keen  analytical  power 
his  German  brethren  compare  him  with  Ricardo.     But  he  avoids 
several  one-sided  views  of  the  English  economist.     Thus  he  places 
public  spirit  beside  egoism   as  an  economic  moto'r,  regards  price 
as  not  measured  by  labour  only  but  as  a  product  of  several  factors, 
and  habitually  contemplates  the  consumption  of  the  labourer,  not 
as  a  part  of  the  cost  of  production  to  the  capitalist,  but  as  the  main 
practical  end.  of  economics.     Von  Thiinen  is  known  principally  by 
his  remarkable  work  entitled  Z>er  Isolirte  Staat  in  Bezieknng  an/ 
Landwirlhschaft  und  Natioimlokonomie  (1S26  ;  2d  ed.,  1842).     In 
this  treatise,  which  i3  a  classic  in  the  political  economy  of  agricul- 
ture,  there  is  a   rare  union   of   exact    observation   with   creative 
imagination.     With  a  view  to  exhibit  the  natural  development  of 
agriculture,  he  imagines  a  state,  isolated  from  the  rest  of  the  world, 
circular  in  form  and  of  uniform  fertility,  without  navigable  rivers 
or  canals,  with  a  single  large  city  at  its  centre,  which  supplies  it 
with  manufactures  and  receives   in   exchange  for   them  its   food- 
products,  and  proceeds  to  study  the  effect  of  distance  from  this 
central  market  on  the  agricultural  economy  of  the  several  concentric 
spaces  which  compose  the  territory.     The  method,  it  will  be  seen, 
is  highly  abstract,  but,  though  it  may  not  be  fruitful,  it  is  quite 
legitimate.     The  author  is  under  no  illusion  blinding  him  to  the 
unreality  of  the  hypothetic  case.     The  supposition  is  necessary,  in 
iis  view,  in  order  to  separate   and   consider   apart  one  essential 
condition— that,  namely,  of  situation  with  respect  to  the  market. 
It  was  his  intention  (imperfectly  realized,  however)   to   institute 
afterwards  several  different  hypotheses  in  relation  to  his  isolated 
state,  for  the  purpose  of  similarly  studying  other  conditions  which 
in  real  life  are  found  in  combination  or  conflict.     The  objection  to 
this  method  lies  in  the  difficulty  of  the  return  from  the  abstract 
study  to  the  actual  facts  ;  and  this  is  probably  an  insuperable  one 
in  regard  to  most  of  its  applications.     The  investigation,  however, 
leads  to  trustworthy  conclusions  as  to  the  conditions  of  the  succes- 
sion of  different  systems  of  land  economy.     The  book  abounds  in 
calculations  relating  to  agricultural  expenditure  and  income,  which 
diminish  itsjnterest  to  the  general  reader,   though  they  are  con- 
sidered valuable  to  the  specialist.      They  embody  the  restdts  of 
the  practical  experience  of  the  author  on  his  estate   of   Tellow 
in  Meckleuburg-Schweriu;     Von  Thiinen  was  strongly  impressed 
with  the  danger  of  a  violent  conflict  between  the  middle  class  and 
The   proletariate,    and   studied   earnestly   the   question   of   wages, 
Iwliich  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  regard,  not  merely  as  the  price  of 
the  commodity  labour,  but  as  the  means  of  subsistence  of  the  mass 
of  the  community.     He  arrived  by  inathematical  reasonings  of  some 
complexity  at  a  formula  which  expresses  the  amount  of  "natural 
•wages"  a3  =  V/",  where  a  is  the  necessary  expenditure  of  Ihe  labourer 
for  subsistence,  and  p  is  the  product  of  his  labour.     To  this  formula 
he  attributed  so  much  importance  that  he  directed  it  to  be  engraved 
on  his  tomb.     It  implies  that  wages  ought  to  rise  with  the  amount 
of  the  product ;  and  this  conclusion  led  him  to  establish  on  his 
^state  a  system  of  participation  by  the  labourers  in  the  profits  of 
fanning,  of  which  some  account  will  be  found  in  Mr  Sedley  Taylor's 
'frofit-sharing  between  Capital  and  Labour  (1884).     Von  Thiinen 
Reserves  more  attention  than  he  has' received  in  England  ;  both  as 
B  man  and  as  a  writer  ho  was  eminently  interesting  and  original ; 
and  there  is  much  in  Der  Isolirte  Staat  and  his  other  works  that 
Is  awakening  and  suggestive. 

Roscher  recognizes  what  he  calls  a  Germano-Russian 
(deutsch-russische)  school  of  political  economy,  represented 
principally  by  Heinrich  Storch  (1766-1825).  Mercantilist 
principles  had  been  preached  by  a  native  ("aiitochthonen  ") 
economist,  Ivan  Possoschkoff,  in  the  time  of  Peter  the 
Great.  The  new  ideas  of  the  Smithian  system  were  intro- 
duced into  Russia  by  Christian  von  Schldzer  (1774-1831) 
in  his  professorial  lectures  and  in  his  Anfangsyriinde  der 
SCaalswirtkscAqfl,  oder  die  Lehre  von  Nalional-reichlhume 
{180-5-1807).  Storch  was  instructor  in  economic  science 
of  the  future  emperor  Nicholas  and  his  brother  the  grand- 
duke  Michael,  and  the  substance  of  his  lessons  to  them  is 
contained  in  his  Cours  dUicrmnmie  Politique  (1815).  The 
translation  of  this  treatise  into  Russian  was  prevented  by 
the  censorshi]^ ;  Ran  published  a  German  version  of  it, 
with  annotations,  in  1819.  It  is  a  work  of  a  very  high 
order  of  merit.  The  epithet  '•  deutsch-russisch "  seems 
little   applicable  to  Storch  ;  as  Roscher  himself  says,  he 


follows  mainly  English  and  French  writers^Say,  Sismondt, 
Turgot,  Bentham,  Steuart,  and  Hunie,  but,  above  alA\ 
Adam  Smith.  His  personal  position  (and  the  same  is  trjio 
of  Schlozer)  led  him  to  consider  economic  doctrines  in  con- 
nexion with  a  stage  of  culture  different  from  that  of  thai 
Western  populations  amongst  which  they  had  been  fonim- 
lated  ;  this  change  of  the  point  of  view  opened  the  door  to 
relativity,  and  helped  to  prepare  the  historical  method. 
Storch's  study  of  the  economic  and  moral  effects  of  serfdom 
is  regarded  as  especially  valuable.  The  general  subjects 
with  which  he  has  particularly  connected  his  name  are  (1) 
the  doctrine  of  immaterial  commodities  (or  elements  of 
national  prosperity),  such  as  health,  talent,  morality,  aud 
the  like;  (2)  the  question  of  " productive *"  and  "unpro- 
ductive," as  characters  of  labour  and  of  consumption,  on 
which  he  disagreed  with  Smith  and  may  have  famished 
indications  to  Dunoyer ;  and  (-3)  the  differences  between 
the  revenue  of  nations  and  that  of  individuals,  on  which  bo 
follows  Lauderdale  and  is  opposed  to  Say.  The  kttcr 
economist  having  published  at  Paris  (1823)  a  new  edition 
of  Storch's  Cours,  with  criticisms  sometimes  offeu-sive  in 
tone,  he  published  by  way  of  reply  to  some  of  Say's 
strictures  what  is  considered  his  ripest  and  scientifically 
most  important  work,  Considerations  sur  la  nature  dn 
Revenu  National  (1824;  translated  into  German  by  thg 
author  himself,  1825). 

A  distinct  note  of  opposition  to  the  Smithian  economics 
was  sounded  in  Germany  by  two  writers,  who,  setting  out 
from  somewhat  different  points  of  view,  animated  by 
different  sentiments,  and  favouring  different  practical  sys- 
tems, yet,  so  far  as  their  criticisms  are  concerned,,arrive  sst 
similar  conclusions ;  we  mean  Adam  Jliiller  and  Friedricb 
List. 

Adam  Miiller  (1779-1829)  was  undoubtedly  a  man  of; 
real  genius.  In  his  principal  work  Elemenle  der  Staatskunst 
(1809),  and  his  other  writings,  he  represents  a  movement  of 
economic  thought  which  was  in  relation  with  the  (so-called) 
Romantic  literature  of  the  period.  The  reaction  against 
Smithianism  of  which  he  was  the  coryphaeus  was  founded, 
on  an  attachment  to  the  principles  and  social  system  of  tho 
Middle  Ages.  It  is  possible  that  the  political  and  historical 
ideas  which  inspire  him,  his  repugnance  to  contemporary 
liberalism,  and  his  notions  of  regular  organic  development^' 
especially  in  relation  to  England,  were  in  some  degree 
imbibed  from  Edmund  Burke,  whose  Reflections  on  the 
Revolution  in  France  had  been  translated  into  German  by 
Friedrich  Gentz,  the  friend  and  teacher  of  Miiller.  The 
association  of  his  criticisms  with  mediaeval  prepossessions 
ought  not  to  prevent  our  recognizing  the  elements  of  truth 
which  they  contain. 

He  protests  against  the  doctrine  of  Smith  and  against  modern 
political  economy  in  general  on  tho  ground  that  it  presents  ij 
mechanical,  atomistic,  and  purely  material  conception  of  society,' 
that  it  reduces  to  nidlity  all  moral  forces  and  ignores  the  necessity 
of  a  moral  order,  that  it  is  at  bottom  no  more  than  a  theory  o^ 
private  property  and  private  interests,  and  takes  no  account  of  the 
life  of  the  people  as  a  whole  in  its  national  solidarity  and  historical 
continuity.  Exclusive  attention,  he  complains,  is  devoted  to  the 
immediate  production  of  objects  possessing  exchange  value  ajid  to  tlis 
transitory  existence  of  individuals  ;  whilst  to  the  maintcBance  of 
the  collective  production  for  future  generations,  to  intellectual  pro- 
ducts, powers,  possessions,  and  enjoyments,  and  to  the  state  with 
its  higher  tasks  and  aims,  scarcely  a  thought  is  given.  The  truth 
is  that  nations  are  specialized  organisms  with  distinct  principles  o{ 
life,  having  definite  individualities  which  determine  the  course  ol 
their  historical  development.  Each  is  through  all  time  one  whoU'; 
and,  as  the  present  is  the  heir  of  the  iiast,  it  ought  to  keep  befor* 
it  constantly  the  permanent  good  of  tne  community  in  the  futnre.' 
The  economic  existence  of  a  people  is  only  one  side  or  province  d 
its  entire  activity,  requiring  to  be  kept  in  harmony  witli  the  higliM 
ends  of  society;  and  the  proper  organ  to  effect  this  reconciliation 
is  tho  .state,  which,  instead  of  being  merely  an  apparatus  for  tjit 
ndministration  of  justice,  vciiiesents  the  totality  of  the  nnlion»l_ 
lif^.     The  division  of  labour.  Miiller  holds,  is  imperfectly  devclo;K;d" 


POLITICAL     E  C  0  t^  0  :\[  Y 


889 


by  Smith,  wlio  makes  it  to  arise  out  of  a  native  bent  for  truck  or 
baiter;  whilst  its  dependence  on  capital — on  the  labours  and 
aeeuiuulations  of  past  generations — is  not  duly  emphasized,  nor 
is  the  necessary  counterpoise  and  completion  of  the  division  of 
lab»ur,  in  the  principle  of  the  national  combination  of  labour, 
properly  brought  out.  Smith  recognizes  only  material,  not 
spiritual,  capital  ;  yet  the  -latter,  represented  in  every  nation  by 
language,  as  the  former  by  money,  is  a  real  national  store  of 
experience,  wisdom,  good  sense,  and  moral  feeling,  transmitted 
with  increase  by  each  generation  to  its  successor,  and  enables 
each  -generation  to  produce  immensely  more  than  by  its  own 
unaided  powers  it  could  possibly  do.  Again,  the  system  of  Smith 
13  one-sidedly  British  ;  if  it  is  innocuous  on  the  soil  of  England*,  it 
is  because  in  her  society  the  old  foundations  on  which  the  spiritual 
and  material  life  of  the  people  can. securely  rest  are  preserved  in 
the  surviving  spirit  of  feudalism  and  the  inner  connexion  of  the 
whole  social  system — the*natioiial  capital  of  laws,  manners,  reputa- 
tion, and  credit,  which  has  been  handed  down  in  its  integrity  in 
consequence  of  the  insular  position  of  the  country.  ■  For  the 
continent  of  Europe^  quite  different  system  is  necessary,  in  which, 
ia  place  of  the  sum  of  the  private  wealth  of  individuals  being 
viewed  as  the  primary  object,  the  real  wealth  of  the  nation  and  the 
production  of  national  power  shall  be  made  to  predominate,  and 
along  with  the  division  of  labour  its  national  union  and  concentra- 
tion— along  with  the  physical,  no  less  the  intellectual  and  mor.il, 
capital  shall  be  embraced.  In  these  leading  traits  of  Miiller's 
thought  there  is  much  which  foreshadows  the  more  recent  forms 
•£  German  economic  and  sociological  speculation,  especially  those 
characteristic  of  the  "  Historical '  school. 

Another  element  of  opposition  was  represented  by 
Friedrich  List  (1798-1846),  a  man  of  great  intellectual 
vigour  as  well  as  practical  energy,  and  notable  as  having 
powerfully  contributed  by  his  writings  to  the  formation 
of  the  German  Zollverein.  His.  principal  work  is  entitled 
Das  Nationah  System  der  Politischen  Oehonomie  (1841; 
6th  ea.,  1877).  Though  his  practical  conclusions  were 
different  from  Miiller's,  he  was  largely  influenced  by  the 
general  mode  of  thinking  of  that  writer,  and  by  his  stric- 
tures on  the  doctrine  of  Smith.  It  was  particularly 
against  the  cosmopolitan  principle  in  the  modern  eco- 
aomical  system  that  he  protested,  and  against  the  absolute 
doctrine  of  free  trade,  which  was  in  harmony  with  that 
principle.  He  gave  prominence  to  the  national  idea,  and 
insisted  on  the  special  requirements  of  each  nation  accord- 
ing to  its  circumstances  and  especially  to  the  degree  of 
its  development. 

He  refuses  to  Smith's  system  the  title  of  the  industrial,  which 
he  thinks  more  appropriate  to  the  mercantile  system,  and  desig- 
nates tiie  former  as  "the  exchange-value  system."  Ho  denies 
the  parallelism  asserted  by  Smith  between  the  economic  conduct 
proper  to  an  individual  and  to  a  nation,  and  holds  that  the 
immediate  private  interest  of  the  separate  members  of  the  com- 
.Tiunity  will  not  lead  to  the  highest  good  of  the  whole.  The 
nation  is  an  existence,  standing  between  the  inilividual  and 
humanity,  and  formed  into  a  unity  by  its  language,  manners, 
historical  development,  culture,  and  constitution.  This  unity  is 
the  first  condition  of  thn  .security,  wellbeing,  progress,  and  civiliza- 
tion of  the  individual ;  and  private  economic  interests,  like  all 
others,  must  bo  subordinated  to  the  maintenance,  completion,  and 
strengthening  of  the  nationality.  The  nation  having  a  continuous 
life,  Its  true  wealth  consists — and  this  is  List's  fundamental 
doctrine— not  in  the  quantity  of  exchange-values  which  it  possesses, 
but  in  the  full  and  many-sided  development  of  its  productive 
powers.  Its  economic  education,  if  wo  may  so  speak,  is  more 
important  than  the  immediate  production  of  values,  and  it  may 
be  right  that  the  present  generation  should  sacrifice  its  gain 
and  enjoyment  to  secure  the  strength  and  skill  of  the  future.  In- 
the  sound  and  normal  condition  of  a  nation  which  has  attained 
economic  maturity,  the  throe  productive  powers  of  agriculture, 
manufactures,  and  commerce  should  be  alike  developed.  Hut  the 
two  latter  factors  arc  superior  in  importance,  as  exercising  a  more 
efloctive  and  fruitful  influence  on  the  whole  culture  of  the  nation, 
as  well  as  on  its  independence.  Navigation,  railways,  all  higher 
toclmical  arts,  connect  themselves  specially  with  these  factors ; 
whilst  in  a  purely  agricultural  state  there  is  ii  tendency  to  stag- 
nation, absence  of  enterprise,  and  the  maintenance  of  antinuntod 
|ir<"jadices.  But  for  the  growth  of  the  higher  forms  of  industry 
all  oountries  are  not  adapted — only  those  of  the  temperate  zones, 
whilst  the  torrid  regions  have  a  natural  monopoly  in  tho  pro- 
duction of  certain  raw  materials  ;  and  thus  between  these  two 
groups  of  countries  a  division  of  labour  and  confcdcrtition  of  powers 
xfnntaunously  takes  olace.     List  then  goes  on  to  explain  his  theory 


of  the  stages  of  economic  development  through  which  the  nations 
of  the  temperate  zone,  which  are  furnished  with  all  the  necessary 
conditions,  naturally  pass,  in  advancing  to  their  normal  economic 
state.     These  arc  (1)  pastoral  life,  (2)  agriculture,  (3)  agriculture 
united  with   manufactures;  whilst  in  the  final  stage  agiiculture, 
manufactures,  and  commerce  are  combined.     The  economic  task  of 
the  state  is  to  bring  into  existence  through  legislative  and  admini- 
strative  action ,  the  conditions   required  for   the   progress  of  the 
nation   through   these   stages.      (Jut   of    this  view    arises    List's 
scheme  of  industrial  politics.     Every  nation,   according  to   himji 
should  begin  with  free  trade,  stimulating  and  improving  it3.agrt 
culture  by  intercourse  with  richer  and  more  cultivated   nations* 
importing"  foreign    manufactures    and    exporting    raw   products.' 
When  it  is  economically  so  far  advanced  that  it  can  manufacture 
for  itself,  then  a  system  of  protection  should  be  employed  to  allovy 
the  home  industries  to  develop  themselves  fully,  and  save  them 
from  being  overpowered  in  their  earlier  etforts  by  the  competiliou 
of  more  matured  foreign  industries  in  the  home  market.     When 
the   national   industries  have  grown  strong  enough  no   longer  tp 
dread    this   competition,  then    the   highest  stage  of  j^Yogress  has 
been  reached  ;  free  trade  should  again  bcaome  tli.;  rule,  and  the 
nation  be  thus  thoroughly  incorporated  with  the  uiiversal  indlis- 
trial  union.     In  List's  time,  according  to  his  view,  Spain,  Portugal,' 
and  Naples  were  purely  agricultural  countries  ;  Germany  and  the 
United  States  of  North  America  had  arrived  at  the  second  stage,; 
their  manufactures  being  in  process  of  development ;  France  was 
near  the  boundary  of  the  third  or  highest  stage,  which  Eiigland 
alone  had   reached.     For   England,  therefore,  as  well   as  for   the 
agricultural  countries  first-named,  fVee  trade  was  the  right  economic 
policy,  but  not  for  Germany  or  America.     What  a  nation  loses  for 
a  time  in  exchange  values  during  the  protective  period  she  much 
more  than  gains  in  the  long  run  in  productive  jlower, — the  temnor- 
ary  expenditure  being  strictly  analogous,  when  we  place  ourselves 
at  tiie  point  of  view  of  the  life  of  the  nation,  to  the  cost  of  tho 
industrial  education  of  the  individual.     The  practical  conclusion 
which  List  drew  for  his  own  country  was  that  she  needed  for  her 
economic  progress  an  extended  and  conveniently  bounded  territory 
reaching  to  the  sea-coast  both  on  north  and  south,  and  a  vigorous 
expansion  of   manufactures   and  commerce,  and  that  the  way  to 
the  latter  lay  through  judicious  protective  legislation  with  a  customs 
union  comprising  all  German  lands,  and  a  German  marine  with  a 
Navigation  Act.      The  national  German  spirit,  striving  after  iu- 
dependence  and  power  through  union,  and  the  national  industry, 
awaking  from  its  lethargy  and  eager  to  recover  lost  ground,  were 
favourable  to  the  success  of  List's  book,  and  it  produced  a  great 
sensation.     He   ably  represented  the  tendencies  and  demands  of 
his  time  in  his  own  country  ;  his  work  had  the  effect  of  fixing  the 
attention,  not  merely  of  the  speculative  and  official  classes,  but  of 
practical  men  generally,  on  questions  of  political  economy ;  and  he 
had  without  doubt  an  important  influence  on  German  industrial 
policy.     So  far  as  science  is  concerned,  the  emphasis  ho  laid  on 
the  relative  historical  study  of  stages  of  civilization  as  all'eeting 
economic  questions,  and  his  protest  against  absolute. formulas,  had 
a  certain   value  ;    and  the  pret>onderance  given   to   the   national 
development  over  tho  immecliate  gains  of  individuals  was  sound  in 
principle  ;  though  his  doctrine  was,  both  on  its  public  and  private 
sides,  too  much  of  a  mere  chrematistic,   and  tended  in  fact  to  set 
up  a  new  form  of  mercantilism,  rather  than   to  aid  the  contem. 
porary  cH'ort  towards  social  reform. 

Most  of  tho  writers  at  home  or  abroad  hitherto  mentioned 
continued  the  traditions  of  tho  school  of  Smith,  only 
developing  his  doctrine  in  particular  directions,  sometimes 
not  without  onosidedness  or  exaggeration,  or  correcting 
minor  errors  into  which  ho  had  fallen,  or  seeking  to  give 
to  tho  exposition  of  his  principles  more  of  order  and 
lucidity.  Some  assailed  the  abuse  of  abstraction  by 
Smith's  successors,  objected  to  the  conclusions  pf  Hicardo 
and  his  followers  their  non-accordance  with  tho  actual  facta 
of  human  life,  or  protested  against  the  anti-social  con- 
sequences which  seemed  to  result  from  the  niiplication 
of  the  (so-called)  orthodox  formulris.  A  few  challenged 
Smith's  fundamental  ideas,  and  insi.sted  on  the  necessity 
of  altering  tho  basis  of  general  philosophy  on  which  his 
economics  ultimately  rest.  lUit,  notwithstanding  various 
premonitory  indications, 'nothing  substantial,  at  least 
nothing  effective,  was  done,  within  the  field  wo  haVe  as  yet 
surveyed,  towards  the  establishment  of  a  really  nQW  order 
of  thinking,  or  new  mode  of  iirocecding,  in  this  branch  of 
inquiry.  Now,  however,  wo  have  to  describe  a  great  and 
growing  movement,  which  has  already  considerably  changed 
the  .whole  cliaractor.of.,.tho  study  in  the  conceptions  of 


390 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


many,  and  which  promises  to  exercise  a  still  more  potent 
influence  In  the  future.  We  mean  the  rise  of  the  His- 
torical School,  which  we  regard  as  marking  the  third  epoch 
in  the  modern  development  of  economic  science 

THE   HISTORICAL   SCHOOI. 

The  negative  movement  which  filled  the  18th  century 
had  for  its  watchword  on  the  economic  side  the  liberation 
of  industrial  effort'  from  both  feudal  survivals  and  Govern- 
mental fetters.  But  in  all  the  aspects  of  that  movement, 
the  economic  as  well  as  the  rest,  the  process  of  demolition 
was  historically  only  the  necessary  preliminary  condition 
of  a  total  renovation,  towards  which  western  Europe  was 
energetically  tending,  though  with  but  an  indistinct  con- 
ception of  its  precise  nature.  The  disorganization  of  the 
body  of  opinion  which  underlay  the  old  system  outran  the 
progress  towards  the  establishinent  of  new  principles  ade- 
quate to  form  a  guidance  in  the  future.  The  critical  phi- 
losophy which  had  WTOught  the  disorganization  could  only 
repeat  its  formulas  of  absolute  liberty,  but  was  powerless 
for  reconstruction.  And  hence  there  was  seen  throughout 
the  West,  after  the  French  explosion,  the  remarkable  spec- 
tacle of  a  continuous  oscillation  between  the  tendency  to 
recur  to  outworn  ideas  and  a  vague  impulse  towards  a  new 
order  in  sociaj  thought  and  life,  this  impulse  often  taking 
an  anarchical  character. 

From  this  state  of  oscillation,  which  has  given  to  our 
century  its  equivocal  and  transitional  aspect,  the  only 
possible  issue  was  in  the  foundation  of  a  scientific  social 
doctrine  which  should  supply  a  basis  for  the  gradual  con- 
vergence of  opinion  on  human  questions.  The  foundation 
of  such  a  doctrine  is  the  immortal  service  for  which  the 
world  is  indebted  to  Auguste  Comte. 
(Comte.  The  leading  features  of  sociology,  as  he  conceived  it, 
are  the  following; — (1)  it  is  essentially  one  science,  in 
which  all  the  elements  of  a  social  state  are  studied  in  their 
relations  and  mutual  actions ;  (2)  it  includes  a  dynamical 
as  well  as  a  statical  theory  of  society;  (3)  it  thus  elimin- 
ates the  absolute,  substituting  for  an  imagined  fixity  the 
conception  of  ordered  change ;  (4)  its  principal  method, 
though  others  are  not  excluded,  is  that  of  historical  com- 
parison ;  (5)  it  is  pervaded  by  moral  ideas,  by  notions  of 
social  duty,  as  opposed  to  the  individual  rights  which 
were  derived  as  corollaries  from  thejas  naturx ;  and  (6)  in 
its  spirit  and  practical  consequences  it  tends  to  the  realiza- 
tion of  all  the  great  ends  which  compose  "  the  popular 
cause";  yet  (7)  it  aims  at  this  through  peaceful  means, 
replacing  revolution  by  evolution.  The  several  character- 
btics  we  have  enumerated  are  not  independent ;  they  may 
be  shown  to  be  vitally  connected  with  each  other.  Several 
of  these  features  must  now  be  more  fully  described ;  the 
others  will  meet  us  before  the  close  of  the  present  survey. 

In  the  masterly  exposition  of  sociological  method  which 
is  contained  in  the  fourth  volume  of  the  Philosophic 
Positive  (1839),!  Comte  marks  out  the  broad  division 
between  social  statics  and  social  dynamics — the  former 
studying  the  laws  of  social  coexistence,  the  latter  those  of 
social  development.  The  fundamental  principle  of  the 
former  is  the  general  consensus  between  the  several  social 
organs  and  functions,  which,  without  unduly  pressing  a 
useful  analogy,  we  may  regard  as  resembling  that  which 
exists  between  the  several  organs  and  functions  of  an 
animal  body.  The  study  of  dynamical  is  different  from, 
and  necessarily  subordinated  to,  that  of  statical  sociology, 
progress  being  in  fact  the  development  of  order,  just  as 
the  study  of  evolution  in  biology  is  different  from,  and 
subordinated   to,   that  of  the   structures   and   functions 

■  He  had  already  in  1822  stated  his  fandamental  principles  in  au 
opuscule  which  is  reproduced  in  the  Appendix  to  his  Politique  Positive. 


which  are  exhibited  by  evolution  as  they  exist  at  the 
several  points  of  an  ascending  scale.  The  laws  of  social 
co-existence  and  movement  are  as  much  subjects  for 
observation  as  the  corresponding  phenomena  in  the  life  of 
an  individual  organism.  For  the  study  of  development 
in  particular,  a  modification  of  the  comparative  method 
familiar  to  biologists  will  be  the  appropriate  mode  of 
research.  The  several  successive  stages  of  society  will 
have  to  be  systematically  compared,  in  order  to  discover 
their  laws  of  sequence,  and  to  determine  the  filiation  of 
their  characteristic  features. 

Though  we  must  take  care  that  both  in  our  statical  and 
dynamical  studies  we  do  not  ignore  or  contradict  the 
fundamental  properties  of  human  nature,  the  project  -of 
deducing  either  species  of  laws  from  those  properties 
independently  of  direct  observation  is  one  which  cannot 
be  realized.  Neither  the  general  structure  of  human 
society  nor  the  march  of  its  development  could  be  so  pre- 
dicted.'  This  is  especially  evident  with  respect  to  dynami- 
cal laws,  because,  in  the  passage  of  society  from  one  phase 
to  another,  the  preponderating  agency  is  the  accumulated 
influence  of  past  generations,  which  is  much  too  complex 
to  be  investigated  deductively — a  conclusion  which  it  is 
important  to  keep  steadily  before  us  now  that  some  of  the 
(so-called)  anthropologists  are  seeking  to  make  the  science 
of  society  a  mere  annex  and  derivative  of  biology.  The 
principles  of  biology  unquestionably  lie  at  the  foundation 
of  the  social  science,  but  the  latter  has,  and  must  always 
have,  a  field  of  rei-.earch  and  a  method  of  inquiry  peculiar 
to  itself.  The  field  is  history  in  the  largest  sense,  includ- 
ing contemporary  fact ;  and  the  principal,  though  not 
exclusive,  method  is,  as  we  have  said,  that  process  of  socio- 
logical comparison  which  is  most  conveniently  called  the 
historical  method. 

These  general  principles  affect  the  economic  no  less  than 
other  branches  of  social  speculation ;  and  with  respect  to 
that  department  of  inquiry  they  lead  to  important  results. 
They  show  that  the  idea  of  forming  a  true  theory  of  the 
economic  frame  and  working  of  society  apart  from  its 
other  sides  is  illusory.  Such  study  is  indeed  provisionally 
indispensable,  but  no  rational  theory  of  the  economic 
organs  and  functions  of  society  can  be  constructed  if  they 
are  considered  as  isolated  from  the  rest.  In  other  words, 
a  separate  economic  science  is,  strictly  speaking,  an  im- 
possibOity,  as  representing  only  one  portion  of  a  complex 
organism,  all  whose  parts  and  their  actions  are  in  a  con- 
stant'  relation  of  correspondence  and  reciprocal  modifica- 
tion. Hence,  too,  it  will  follow  that,  whatever  useful 
indications  may  be  derived  from  our  general  knowledge  of 
individual  human  nature,  the  economic  structure  of  society 
and  its  mode  of  development  cannot  be  deductively  fore- 
seen, but  must  be  ascertained  by  direct  historical  inves- 
tigation. We  have  said  "  its  mode  of  development ";  for 
it  is  obvious  that,  as  of  every  social  element,  so  of  the 
economic  factor  in  human  affairs,  there  must  be  a  dyna- 
mical doctrine,  a  theory  of  the  successive  phases  of  the 
economic  condition  of  society ;  yet  in  the  accepted  systems 
this  was  a  desideratum,  nothing  but  some  partial  and 
fragmentary  notions  on  this  whole  side  of  the  subject 
being  yet  extant.  And,  further,  the  economic  structure 
and  working  of  one  historic  stage  being  different  from 
those  of  another,  we  must  abandon  the  idea  of  an  absolute 
system  possessing  universal  validity,  and  substitute  that 
of  a  series  of  such  systems,  in  which,  however,  the  succes- 
sion is  not  at  all  arbitrary,  but  is  itself  regulated  by  law. 

Though  Comte's  enterprise  was  a  constructive  one,  his 
aim  being  the  foundation  of  a  scientific  theory  of  society, 
he  could  not  avoid  criticizing  the  labours  of  those  wIjo 
before  him  had  treated  several  branches  of  social  inquiry. 
Amongst  them  the  economists  were  necessarily  considered  j 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


391 


*nd  he  urged  or  implied,  in  various  places  of  his  above- 
aamed  work,  as  well  as  of  his  Politique  Poxitive,  objections 
to  their  general  ideas  and  methods  of  procedure  essentially 
the  same  with  those  which  we  stated  in  speaking  of  Ricardo 
and  his  followers.  J.  S.  ilill  shows  himself  much  irritated 
by  these  comments,  and  remarks  on  them  as  showing  "  how 
extremely  superficial  M.  Comte"  (whom  he  yet  regards  as 
0.  thinker  quite  comparable  with  Descartes  and  Leibnitz) 
"  could  sometimes  be," — an  unfortunate  observation,  which 
lie  would  scarcely  have  made  if  he  could  have  foreseen  the 
subsequent  march  of  European  thought,  and  the  large 
degree  in  which  the  main  points  of  Comte's  criticism  have 
been  accepted  or  independently  reproduced. 

Germany. — The  second  manifestation  of  this  new  move- 
ment in  economic  science  was  the  appearance  of  the 
German  historical  school.  The  views  of  this  school  do 
not  appear  to  have  arisen,  like  Comte's  theory  of  sociologi- 
cal method,  ■  out  of  general  philosophic  ideas ;  they  seem 
rather  to  have  been  suggested  by  an  extension  to  the 
economic  field  of  the  conceptions  of  the  historical  school 
of  jurisprudence  of  which  Savigny  was  the  most  eminent 
representative.  The  juristic  system  is  not  a  fixed  social 
phenomenon,  but  is  variable  from  one  stage  in  the  progress 
of  society  to  another — it  is  in  vital  relation  with  the  other 
coexistent  social  factors  ;  and  what  is,  in  the  jural  sphere, 
adapted  to  one  period  of  development  is  often  unfit  for 
another.  These  ideas  were  seen  to  be  applicable  to  the 
economic  sj'stem  also ;  the  relative  point  of  view  was  thus 
reached,  and  the  absolute  attitude  was  found  to  be  un- 
tenable. Cosmopolitanism  in  theory,  or  the  assumption  of 
a  system  equally  true  of  every  country,  and  what  has  been 
called  perpetualism,  or  the  assumption  of  a  system  appli- 
cable to  every  social  stage,  were  alike  discredited.  And 
80  the  German  historical  school  appears  to  have  taken  its 
rise. 

Omitting  preparatory  indications  and  undeveloped  germs 
of  doctrine,  we  must  trace  the  origin  of  the  school  to 
Wilhelm  Roscher.  Its  fundamental  principles  are  stated, 
though  with  some  hesitation,  and  with  an  unfortunate  con- 
trast of  the  historical  with  the  "  philosophical "  method,* 
in  his  Grundriss  m  Vorlesungen  iiber  die  StaatsioirtJischaft 
nach  geschichtliclier  Methode  (1843).  The  following  are 
the  leading  heads  insisted  on  in  the  preface  to  that  work. 

"  The  historical  method  exhibits  itself  not  merely  in  the 
external  form  of  a  treatment  of  phenomena  according  to 
their  chronological  succession,  but  in  the  following  funda- 
mental ideas.  (1)  The  aim  is  to  represent  what  nations 
have  thought,  willed,  and  discovered  in  the  economic  field, 
what  they  have  striven  after  and  attained,  and  why  they 
have  attained  it.  (2)  A  people  is  not  merely  the  mass  of 
individuals  now  living ;  it  will  not  suffice  to  observe  con- 
temporary facts.  (3)  All  the  peoples  of  whom  we  can 
learn  anything  must  be  studied  and  compared  from  the 
economic  point  of  view,  especially  the  ancient  peoples, 
whose  development  lies  before  us  in  its  totality.  (4)  We 
must  not  simply  praise  or  blame  economic  institutions; 
but  few  of  them  have  been  salutary  or  detrimental  to  all 
peoples  and  at  all  stages  of  culture  ;  rather  it  is  a  principal 
task  of  science  to  show  how  and  why,  out  of  what  was 
once  reasonable  and  beneficent,  the  unwise  and  inexpedient 
has  often  gradually  arisen."  Of  the  principles  enunciated 
in  this  paraphrase  of  Roschcr's  words  a  portion  of  the 
third  alone  seems  open  to  objection ;  the  economy  of 
ancient  peoples  is  not  a  more  important  subject  of  study 
than  that  of  the  moderns ;  indeed  the  question  of  the 
relative  importance  of  the  two  is  one  that  ought  not  to  bo 
raised.     For  the  essential  condition  of  all  sound  sociologi- 

'  This  phraseology  was  probably  borrowed  from  tho  controversy  on 
the  method  of  jurisprudence  between  Thibaut  on  tho  one  hand  ami 
Savigny  and  Hugo  ou  the  other. 


cal  inquiry,  is  the  comparative  consideration  of  the  entire 
series  of  the  most  complete  evolution  known  to  history — 
that,  namely,  of  the  group  of  nations  forming  what  ia 
known  as  the  Occidental  Commonwealth,  or,  more  briefly, 
"  the  West."  The  reasons  for  choosing  this  social  series, 
and  for  provisionally  restricting  our  studies  almost  alto- 
gether to  it,  have  been  stated  with  unanswerable  force  by 
Comte  in  the  Philosophie  Positive.  Greece  and  Rome  are, 
indeed,  elements  in  the  series  ;  but  it  is  the  development  as 
a  whole,  not  any  special  portions  of  it,  that  sociology  must 
keep  in  view  in  order  to  determine  the  laws  of  the  move- 
ment,— just  as,  in  the  study  of  biological  evolution,  no  one 
stage  of  an  organism  can  be  considered  as  of  preponder- 
ating importance,  the  entire  succession  of  changes  being 
the  object  of  research.  Of  Roscher's  further  eminent 
services  we  shall  speak  hereafter ;  he  is  now  mentioned 
only  in  relation  to  the  origin  of  the  new  school 

In  1848  Bruno  Hildebrand  published  the  first  volume 
of  a  work,  which,  though  he  lived  for  many  years  after 
(d.  1878),  he  never  continued,  entitled  Die  Nationalijko- 
nomie  der  Gegemvart  xmd  Zukunft.  Hildebrand  was  a 
thinker  of  a  really  high  order ;  it  may  be  doubted  whether 
amongst  German  economists  there  has  been  any  endowed 
with  a  more  profound  and  searching  intellect.  He  is 
quite  free  from  the  wordiness  and  obscurity  which  too 
often  characterize  German  writers,  and  traces  broad  out- 
lines with  a  sure  and  powerful  hand.  His  book  contains 
a  masterly  criticism  of  the  economic  systems  which  pre- 
ceded, or  belonged  to,  his  time,  including  those  of  Smith, 
Miiller,  List,  and  the  socialists.  But  it  is  interesting  to 
us  at  present  mainly  from  the  general  position  he  takes 
up,  and  his  conception  of  tho  real  nature  of  political 
economy.  The  object  of  his  work,  he  tells  us,  is  to  open 
a  way  in  the  economic  domain  to  a  thorough  historical 
direction  and  method,  and  to  transform  the  science  into 
a  doctrine  of  the  laws  of  the  economic  development  of 
nations.  It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  the  type  which 
he  sets  before  him  in  his  proposed  reform  of  political 
economy  is  not  that  of  historical  jurisprudence,  but  of  tho 
science  of  language  as  it  has  been  reconstructed  in  tho 
present  century,  a  selection  which  indicates  the  comiiara- 
tive  method  as  the  one  which  he  considered  appropriate. 
In  both  sciences  we  have  the  presence  of  an  ordered  varia- 
tion in  time,  and  the  consequent  substitution  of  the 
relative  for  the  absolute. 

In  1853  appeared  the  work  of  Karl  Knies,  entitled  Die  Kmea, 
PoliiiscJie  Oekonomie  vom  Sl(V)idpunl-le  der  geschichllichen 
Met/iode.  This  is  an  elaborate  exposition  and  defence  of 
the  historical  method  in  its  application  to  economic 
science,  and  is  the  most  systematic  and  complete  manifesto 
of  the  new  school,  at  least  on  tho  logical  side.  Tho 
fundamental  propositions  are  that  the  economic  constitu- 
tion of  society  at  any  epoch  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the 
other  the  contemporary  theoretic  conception  of  economic 
science,  are  results  of  a  definite  historical  development; 
that  <  they  are  both  in  vital  connexion  with  tho  whole 
social  organism  of  the  period,  having  grown  up  along  with 
it  and  under  tho  .same  conditions  of  time,  place,  and 
nationality  ;  that  the  economic  system  nmst  therefore  bo 
regarded  as  passing  through  a  scries  of  phases  correlative 
with  the  successive  stages  of  civilization,  and  can  at  no 
point  of  this  movement  bo  considered  to  havo  attained  an 
entirely  definitive  form  ;  that  no  more  tho  present  than  any 
previous  economic  organization  of  society  is  to  be  regarded 
as  absolutely  good  and  right,  but  only  as  a  phase  in  a 
continuous  historical  evolution  ;  and  that  in  like  manner 
the  now  prevalent  economic  doctrine  is  not  to  bo  viewed 
aa  coraplcto  and  final,  but  only  a-s  reprotionting  a  certain 
stage  in  the  unfolding  or  progressive  maiiifojjtation  of  tlio 
truth. 


392 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


The  theme'  of  the  book  is  handled  with,  perhaps,  an 
undue  degree  of  expansion  and  detail.  The  author  ex- 
hibits much  sagacity  as  well  as  learning,  and  criticizes 
effectively  the  errors,  inconsistencies,  and  exaggerations  of 
his  predecessors.  But  in  characterizing  and 'vindicating 
the  historical  method  he  has  added  nothing  to  Comte.  A 
second  edition  of  his  treatise  was  .published  in  1883,  and 
in  this  he  makes  the  singular  confession  that,  when  he 
wrote  in  1852,  the  Philosophie  Positive,  the  six  volumes 
of  which  had  appeared  from  1830  to  18i2,  was  entirely 
unknown  to  him  and,  he  adds,  probably  to  all  German 
economists.  This  is  not  to  the  credit  of  their  open- 
mindedness  or  literary  vigilance,  if  we  remember  that 
Mill  was  already  in  correspondence  with  Comte  in  1841, 
and  that  his  eulogistic  notice  of  kim  in  the  Logic  appeared 
in  1843.  When,  however,  Knies  at  a  later  period 
examined  Comte's  work,  he  was,  he  tells  us,  surprised  at 
finding  in  it  so  many  anticipations  of,  or  "  parallelisms  " 
with,  his  own  conclusions.  And  well  he  might ;  for  all 
that  is  really  valuable  in  his  methodology  is  to  be  found 
in  Comte,  applied  on  a  larger  scale,  and  designed  with  the 
broad  and  commanding  power  which  marks  the  dii  majores 
of  philosophy. 

There  are  two  points  which  seem  to  be  open  to  ciiticisra  in  tlio 
positiou  takeu  by  some  German  economists  of  tlie  bistorical  school. 

1.  Knies  and  some  other  writers,  in  maintaining  the  principle  of 
relativity  in  economic  tlieory,  appear  not  to  preserve  the  due 
balance  in  one  particular.  The  two  forms  of  absolutism  in  doctrine, 
cosmopolitanism  and  what  Knies  calls  perpetualism,  he  seems  to 
place  on  exactly  the  same  footing;  in  other  words,  he  considers  the 
error  of  overlooking  varieties  of  local  circumstances  and  nationality 
to  be  quite  as  serious  as  that  of  neglecting  differences  in  the  stage 
of  historical  development.  But  this  is  certainly  not  so.  In  every 
branch  of  sociology  the  latter  is  much  the  graver  error,  vitiating 
radically,  wherever  it  is  found,  the  whole  of  our  investigations.  If 
we  ignore  the  fact,  or  mistake  the  direction,  of  the  social  movement, 
we  are  wrong  iu  the  most  fundamental  point  of  all — a  point,  too, 
which  is  involved  in  every  question.  But  the  variations  depending 
ou  difference  of  race,  as  atfecting  bodily  and  mental  endowment,  or 
on  diversity  of  external  situation,  are  secondary  phenomena  only ; 
they  must  be  postponed  in  studying  the  general  theory  of  social 
development,  and  taken  into  account  afterwards  when  we  come  to 
examine  the  modifications  in  the  character  of  the  development 
arising  out  of  peculiar  conditions.'  And,  though  the  physical 
nature  of  a  territory  is  a  condition  which  is  likely  to  operate  with 
special  force  on  economic  phenomena,  it  is  rather  on  the  technical 
forms  and  comparative  extension  of  the  several  branches  of  industry 
that  it  will  act  than  on  the  social  conduct  of  each  branch,  or  the 
co-ordinatipn  and  relative  action  of  all,  which  latter  are  the  proper 
subjects  of  the  inquiries  of  the  economist. 

2.  Some  members  of  the  school  appear,  in  their  anxiety  to  assert 
the  relativity  of  the  science,  to  fall  into  the  error  of  denying 
economic  laws  altogether  ;  they  are  at  least  unwilling  to  speak  of 
"natural  laws"  in  relation  to  the  economic  world  From  a  too 
exclusive  consideration  of  law  in  the  inorganic  sphere,  they  regard 
this  phraseology  as  binding  them  to  the  notion  of  fixity  and  of  an 
invariable  system  of  practical  economy.  But,  if  we  turn  our 
attention  rather  to  the  organic  sciences,  which  are  more  kindred  to 
the  social,  we  shall  see  that  the  term  "natural  law"  carries  with 
it  no  such  implication.  As  we  have  more  than  once  indicated,  an 
essential  part  of  the  idea  of  life  is  that  of  development;  in  other 
words,  of  "ordered  change."  And  that  such  a  development  takes 
place  in  the  constitution  and  working  of  society  in  all  its  elements 
is  a  fact  which  cannot  be  doubte'd,  and  which  these  writers 
themselves  emphatically  assert.  That  there  exist  bet^veen  the 
several  social  elements  such  relations  as  make  the  change  of  one 
element  involve  or  determine  the  change  of  another  is  equally 
plain  ;  and  why  the  name  of  natural  laws  should  be  denied  to 
such  constant  relations  of  coexistence  and  succession  it  is  not  easy 
to  see.  These  laws,  being  imiversal,  admit  of  the  -construction  of 
an  abstract  theory  of  economic  development ;  whilst  a  part  of  the 
German  historical  school  tends  to  substitute  for  such  a  theory  a  mere 
description  of  different  national  economies,  introducing  prematurely 
— as  we  have  pointed  out— the  action  of  special  territorial  or  ethno- 
logical conditions,  instead  of  reserving  this  as  the  ground  of  later 
modifications,  in  concrete  cases,  of  the  primary  general  laws 
deduced  from  a  study  of  the  common  human  evolution. 

To  the  three  writers  above  named,  Roscher,  Hildebraud,  and 
Knies,  the  foundation  of  the  German  historical  school  of  political 
economy  belongs.  It  does  not  appear  tliat  Roscher  in  his  own 
subsequent  labours  has   been   much   under   the  influence  of   the 


method  which  he  has  in  so  many  jilaces  admirably  characterized. 
In  his  System  der  Volkswirthschaft  (vol.  i. ,  Grundlaycn  der 
NationaVokonoviie,  1854,  15th  ed.  1880;  vol.  ii.,  N.  0.  des 
Ackerbaucs,  1860,  10th  ed.  1882  ;  vol.  iii.  N.  0.  des  Handcls  und 
Gcwcrbfleisses,  3d  ed.,  1882)  the  dogmatic  and  the  historical  matter 
are  rather  juxtaposed  than  vitally  combined.  It  is  true  that  he  has 
most  usefully  applied  his  vast  learning  to  special  historical  studies, 
iu  relation  especially  to  the  progress  of  the  science  itself.  His 
treatise  Uclcr  das  Verhallniss  der  Kationalokonomie  zuin  dassi- 
scheii  Altcrthuvie,  his  Zur  Geschichte  der  Englischoi  Volkswirth- 
schaftslchre  (Leipsic,  1851-2),  and,  above  all,  that  marvellous 
monument  of  erudition  and  industry,  his  Geschichte  der  National- 
Ockonomik  in' JDeutschland  (1874),  to  which  he  is  said  to  have 
devoted  fifteen  years  of  study,  are  among  the  most  valuable  extaut 
works  of  this  kind,  though  the  last  by  its  accumulation  of  detail 
is  unfitted  for  general  study  outside  of  Germany  itself.  Several 
interesting  and  useful  monographs  are  collected  in  his  Aiisichten 
der  Volksvnrthschaft  vom  gesdiichtlichen  Standpunkte  (3d  ed., 
1878).  His  systematic  treatise,  too,  above  referred  to,  abounds 
in  historical  notices  of  the  rise  and  development  of  the  several  doc- 
trines of  the  science  But  it  cannot  be  alleged  that  he  has  dona 
much  towards  the  transformation  of  political  economy  which  his 
earliest  labours  seemed  to  announce  ;  and  Cossa  appears  to  be  right 
in  saying  that  his  dogmatic  work  has  not  eftected  any  substantial 
modification  of  the  principles  of  Hermann  aud  £au. 

The  historical  method  has  exhibited  its  essential  features 
more  fully  in  the  hands  of  the  younger  generation  of 
scientific  economists  in  Germany,  amongst  whom  may  be 
reckoned  Lujo  Brentano,  Adolf  Held,  Erwin  Nasse,  Gustav 
SchmoUer,  H.  Kosler,  Albert  Schaffle,  Hans  von  Scheel, 
Gustav  Schonberg,  and  Adolf  Wagner.  Besides  the 
general  principle  of  an  historical  treatment  of  the  science, 
the  leading  ideas  which  have  been  most  strongly  insisted 
on  by  this  school  are  the  following.  I.  The  necessity  of 
accentuating  the  moral  element  iu  economic  study.  This 
consideration  has  been  urged  with  special  emphasis  by 
Schmoller  in  his  Gt~utidjragen  (1875)  and  by  Schaffle  in 
his  Das  geselhchaftliche  System  der  nunscldiclien  Wirthschuft 
(3d  ed.,  1873).  G.  Kries  (d.  1858)  appears  also  to  have 
handled  the  subject  well  in  a  review  of  J.  S.  Jlill.  Accord- 
ing to  the  most  advanced  organs  of  the  school,  three 
principles  of  organization  are  at  work  in  practical  economy; 
and,  corresponding  with  these,  there  are  three  different 
systems  or  spheres  of  activity.  The  latter  are  (1)  privatQ 
economy ;  (2)  the  compulsory  public  economy ;  (3)  the 
"'caritative  "  sphere.  In  the  first  alone  personal  interest 
predominates ;  in  the  second  the  general  interest  of  the 
society ;  in  the  third  the  benevolent  impulses.  Even  in 
the  first,  however,  the  action  of  private  interest  cannot  be 
unlimited ;  not  to  speak  here  of  the  intervention  of  the 
public  power,  the  excesses  and  abuses  of  the  fundamental 
principle  in  this  department  must  be  checked  aud  controlled 
by  an  economic  morality,  which  can  never  be  left  out  of 
account  in  theory  any  more  than  in  practical  applications 
In  the  third  region  above-named,  moral  influences  are  of 
course  supreme.  II.  The  close  relation  which  necessarily 
exists  between  economics  and  jurisprudence.  This  has 
been  brought  out  by  L.  von  Stein  and  H.  Rosier,  but  is 
most  systematically  established  by  Wagner. — who  is, 
without  doubt,  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  living  German 
economists — especially  in  his  Grxindlegung,  now  forming 
part  of  tho  Lehrhuch  der  politischen  Oekonomie  in  course 
of  publication  by  him  and  Professor  Nasse  jointly.  The 
doctrine  of  the^Ks  nature,  on  which  the  physiocrats,  as  we 
have  seen,  reared  their  economic  structure,  has  lost  its 
hold  on  belief,  and  the  old  a  j?7io?-i  and  absolute  concep- 
tions of  personal  freedom  and  property  have  given  way 
along  with  it.  It  is  seen  that  the  economic  position  of  the 
individual,  instead  of  depending  merely  on  so-called  natural 
rights  or  even  on  his  natural  powers,  is  conditioned  by  the 
contemporary  juristic  system,  which  is  itself  an  historical 
product.  The  above-named  conceptions,  therefore,  half 
economic  half  juristic,  of  freedom  and  property  require  a 
fresh  examination.     It  i.=  principally  from  this  poi;it  of 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


393 


view  that  Wagner  approaches  economic  studies.  The 
point,  as  he  says,  ou  which  all  turns  is  the  old  question  of 
the  relation  of  the  individual  to  the  community.-  Whoever 
with  the  older  juristic  and  political  philosophy  and  national 
economy  places  the  individual  in  the  centre  comes  neces- 
sarily to  the  untenable  results  which,  in  the  economic 
field,  the  physiocratic  and  Smithian  school  of  free  com- 
petition has  set  up.  Wagner  on  the  contrary  investigates, 
before  anything  else,  the  conditions  of  the  economic  life 
of  the  community,  and,  in  subordination  to  this,  deter- 
mines the  sphere  of  the  economic  freedom  of  the  individual. 
III.  A  different  conception  of  the  functions  of  the  state 
from  that  entertained  by  the  school  of  Smith.  The  latter 
school  has  in  general  followed  the  view  of  Rousseau  and 
liant  that  the  sole  office  of  the  state  is  the  protection  of  the 
members  of  the  community  from  violence  and  fraud.  This 
doctrine,  which  was  in  harmony  with  those  of  the  jus  naturx 
and  the  social  contract,  was  temporarily  useful  for  the  demo- 
lition of  the  old  economic  system  with  its  complicated  appa- 
ratus of  fetters  and  restrictions.  But  it  could  not  stand 
ajjainst  a  rational  historical  criticism,  and  still  less  against 
the  growing  practical  demands  of  modern  civilization.  In 
fact,  the  abolition  of  the  impolitic  and  discredited  system  of 
European  Governments,  by  bringing  ta the  surface  the  evils 
arising  from  unlimited  competition,  irresistibly  demon- 
strated the  necessity  of  public  action  according  to  new  and 
more  enlightened  methods.  The  German  historical  school 
recognizes  the  state  as  not  merely  an  institution  for  the- 
maintenance  of  order,  but  as  the  organ  of  the  nation  for 
all  ends  which  cannot  be  adequately  effected  by  voluntary 
individual  effort.  Whenever  social  aims  can  be  attained 
only  or  most  advantageously  through  its  action,  that  action 
is  justified.  The  cases  in  which  it  can  properly  iiiterfore 
must  be  determined  separately  on  their  ovv'n  merits  and  in 
relation  to  the  stage  of  national  develojiment.  It  ought 
certainly  to  promote  intellectual  and  aesthetic  culture.  It 
ought  to  enforce  provisions  for  public  health  and  regula- 
tions for  the  proper  conduct  of  production  and  transport. 
It  ought  to  protect  the  weaker  members  of  society,  espe- 
cially women,  children,  the  aged,  and  the  destitute,  at  least 
in  the  absence  of  family  maintenance  and  guardianship. 
It  ought  to  secure  the  labourer  against  the  worst  conse- 
quences of  personal  injury  not  due  to  his  own  negligence,  to 
assist  through  legal  recognition  and  supervision  the  efforts 
of  the  working  classes  for  joint  no  less  than  individual 
self-help,  and  to  guarantee  the  safety  of  their  earnings, 
when  entrusted  to  its  care. 

A  special  influence  which  has  worked  on  this  more  recent 
group  is  that  of  theoretic  socialism  ;  we  shall  see  hereafter 
that  socialism  as  a  party  organization  has  also  affected 
their  practical  politics.  With  such  writers  as  St.  Simon, 
Fourier,  and  Troudhon,  Lassalle,  3Iarx,  Engels,  Mario, 
and  Kodbertus  (who,  notwithstanding  a  recent  denial, 
seems  rightly  described  as  a  socialist)  wo  do  not  deal  in 
the  present  sketch  (see  Socialism)  ;  but  we  must  recognize 
them  as  having  powerfully  stimulated  the  younger  German 
economists  (in  the  strict  sense  of  this  last  word).  They 
have  even  modified  the  scientific  conclusions  of  the  latter, 
especially  through  criticism  of  the  so-called  orthodox  system. 
Schiifflo  and  Wagner  may  bo  especially  named  as  having 
given  a  large  space  and  a  respectful  attention  to  their 
argiiments.  In  particular,  the  important  consideration,  to 
which  we  have  already  referred,  that  the  economic  position 
of  the  individual  depends  on  the  existing  legal  system, 
jind  notably  on  the  existing  organization  of  property,  was 
first  insisted  on  by  the  socialists.  They  had  also  pointed 
out  that  the  present  institutions  of  society  in  relation  to 
property,  inheritance,  contract,  and  the  like  are  (to  use 
Lassalle's  phrase)  "  historical  categories  which  have 
changed,  and  are  subject  to  further  chanj^e,"  whilst  in  the 


orthodox  economy  they  are  generally  assvned  as  a  fixed 
order  of  things  on  the  basis  of  which  the  individual  creates 
his  own  position.  J.  S.  Mill  called  attention  to  the  fact  of 
the  distribution  of  wealth  depending,  unlike  its  production, 
not  on  natural  laws  alone,  but  on  the  ordinances  of  society, 
but  it  is  some  of  the  German  economists  of  the  younger 
historical  school  who  have  most  strongly  emphasized  this 
view.  To  rectify  and  complete  the  conception,  however, 
we  must  bear  in  mind  that  those  ordinances  themselves  are 
not  arbitrarily' changeable,  but  are  conditioned  by  the  stage 
of  general  social  development. 

In  economic  politics  these  writers  have  taken  up  a  posi- 
tion between  the  German  free-trade  (or,  as  it  is  sometimes 
with  questionable  propriety  called,  the  Manchester)  party 
and  the  democratic  socialists.  The  latter  invoke  the  omni- 
potence of  the  state  to  transform  radically  and  immediately 
the  whole  economic  organization  of  society  in  the  interest  of 
the  proletariate.  The  free-traders  seek  to  minimize  state 
action  for  any  end  except  that  of  maintaining  public  order, 
and  securing  the  safety  and  freedom  of  the  individual.  The 
members  of  the  school  of  which  we  are  now  speaking, 
when  intervening  in  the  discussion  of  practical  questions, 
have  occupied  an  intermediate  standpoint.  They  are  op- 
posed alike  to  social  revolution  and  to  rigid  laissez  faire. 
Whilst  rejecting  the  socialistic  programme,  they  call  for  the 
intervention  of  the  state,  in  accordance  with  the  theoretic 
principles  already  mentioned,  for  the  purpose  of  mitigating 
the  pressure  of  the  modern  industrial  system  on  its  weaker 
members,  and  extending  in  greater  measure  to  the  working 
classes  the  benefits  of  advancing  civilization.  SchafiBe  in 
his  Capitalismus  und  Socialismus  (1870;  now  absorbed 
into  a  larger  work),  Wagner  in  his  Hede  iiber  die  sociale 
Frage  (1871),  and  Schonberg  in  his  Arheitsdmter :  eine 
Aufgabe  des  deutschen  Reichs  (1871)  advocated  this  policy 
in  relation  to  the  question  of  the  labourer.  These  expres- 
sions of  opinion,  with  which  most  of  the  German  professors 
of  political  economy  sympathized,  were  violently  assailed 
by  the  organs  of  the  free-trade  party,  who  found  in  them 
"a  new  form  of  socialism."  Out  of  this  arose  a  lively 
controversy ;  and,  the  necessity  of  a  closer  union  and  a 
practical  political  organization  being  felt  amongst  the 
partisans  of  the  new  direction,  a  congress  was  held  at 
Eisenach  in  October  1872,  for  the  consideration  of  "the 
social  question."  It  was  attended  by  almost  all  the 
professors  of  economic  science  in  the  German  universities, 
by  representatives  of  the  several  political  parties,  by 
leaders  of  the  working  men,  and  by  some  of  the  large 
capitalists.  At  this  meeting  the  principles  above  explained 
were  formulated.  Those  who  adopted  them  obtained  from 
their  opponents  the  appellation  of  "  Kathoder-Socialisten," 
or  "  socialists  of  the  (professorial)  chair,"  a  nickname  in- 
vented by  H.  B.  Opponheim,  and  which  those  to  whom  it 
was  applied  were  not  unwilling  to  accept.  Since  1873  this 
group  has  been  united  in  the  "  Verein  fiir  Socialpolitik,"  in 
which,  as  the  controversy  became  mitigated,  freetraders 
also  have  taken  part.  Within  the  Verein  a  division  has 
shown  itself.  The  left  wing  has  favoured  a  systematic 
gradual  modification  of  the  law  of  property  in  such  a 
direction  as  would  tend  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  socialistic 
aspirations,  so  far  as  these  are  legitimate,  whilst  the 
majority  advocate  reform  through  state  action  on  the  basis 
of  existing  jural  institutions.  Schiifllo  goes  so  far  as  to 
maintain  that  the  present  "capitalistic"  regime  will  bo 
replaced  by  a  socialistic  organization  ;  but,  like  J.  S.  Mill, 
he  adjourns  this  change  to  a  more  or  less  remote  future, 
and  expects  it  as  the  result  of  a  natural  development,  or 
process  of  "  social  selection  ;  "•  he  repudiates  any  immediate 

'  This  fhould  b«  remembered  by  resdera  of  M.  Leroy-Beaulieu'i 
recent  work  on  Collectivism  (1884),  in  which  he  treats  SchalDo  as  the 
principal  Oicorctic  represertntivo  of  that  form  of  socialism. 

XIX   —  <;o 


394 


POLITICAL     ECONOJiIY 


or  violent  revolution,  and  rejects  any  system  of  life  ■which 
would  set  up  "  abstract  equality "  against  the  claims  of 
individual  service  and  merit. 

The  further  the  investigations  of  the  German  historical 
school  have  been  carried,  in  the  several  lines  of  inquiry  it 
has  opened,  the  more  clearly  it  has  come  to  light  that  the 
one  thing  needful  is  not  merely  a  reform  of  political 
economy,  but  its  fusion  in  a  complete  science  of  society. 
This  is  the  view  long  since  insisted  on  by  Auguste  Comte; 
and  its  justness  is  daily  becoming  more  apparent.  The 
best  economists  of  Germany  now  tend  strongly  in  this 
direction.  Schiiffle,  who  is  largely  under  the  influence  of 
Comte  and  Herbert  Spencer,  has  actually  attempted  th^ 
enterprise  of  widening  economic  into  social  studies.  In 
his  most  important  work,  which  had  been  prepared  by 
previous  publications,  Bau  vnd  Leben  des  sociaUn  Korpers 
(1875-78;  new  ed.,  1881),  he  proposes  to  give  a  compre- 
hensive plan  of  an  anatomy,  physiology,  and  psychology 
of  human  society.  He  considers  social  processes  as 
analogous  to  those  of  organic  bodies ;  and,  sound  and 
suggestive  as  the  idea  of  this  analogy,  already  used  by 
Comte,  undoubtedly  is,  he  carries  it,  perhaps,  to  an  undue 
degree  of  detail  and  elaboration.  The  same  conception  is 
adopted  by  P.  von  Lilienfeld  in  his  Gedankai  iiber  die 
Socialwissenscliaft  der  Zukunft  (1873-79).  A  tendency  to 
the  fusion  of  economic  science  in  sociology  is  also  found  in 
Adolph  Samter's  Sozial-lekre  (though  the  economic  aspect 
of  society  is  there  specially  studied)  and  in  Schmoller's 
treatise  Ueber  eiiiige  Gnndfragen  des  JRechts  nnd  der 
Volkswirlhschaftslehre ;  and  the  necessity  of  such  a  trans- 
formation is  energetically  asserted  by  H.  von  Scheel  in  the 
preface  to  his  German  version  (1879)  of  an  English  tract 
On  the  present  Position  and  Prospects  of  Political  Economy. 

The  name  "  Realistic,"  which  has  sometimes  been  given 
to  the  historical  school,  especially  in  its  more  recent  form, 
appears  to  be  injudiciously  chosen.  It  is  intended  to 
mark  the  contrast  with  the  "abstract"  complexion  of 
the  orthodox  economics.  But  the  error  of  these  economics 
lies,  not  in  the  use,  but  in  the  abuse  of  abstraction.  All 
science  implies  abstraction,  seeking,  as  it  does,  for  unity 
in  variety ;  the  question  in  every  branch  is  as  to  the  right 
constitution  of  the  abstract  theory  in  relation  to  the  con- 
crete facts.  Nor  is  the  new  school  quite  correctly  dis- 
tinguished as  "inductive."  Deduction  doubtless  unduly 
preponderates  in  the  investigations  of  the  older  econo- 
mists ;  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  it  is  a  legitimate 
process,  when  it  sets  out,  not  from  a  priori  assumptions, 
but  from  proved  generalizations.  And  the  appropriate 
method  of  economics,  as  of  all  sociology,  is  not  so  much 
induction  as  the  specialized  form  of  induction  known  as 
comparison, '  especially  the  comparative  study  of  "  social 
series  "  (to  use  Jlill's  phrase),  which  is  properly  designated 
as  the  "  historical  "  method.  If  the  denominations  here 
criticized  were  allowed  to  prevail,  there  would  be  a  danger 
of  the  school  assuming  an  unscientific  character.  It  might 
occupy  itself  too  exclusively  with  statistical  inquiry,  and 
forget  in  the  detailed  examination  of  particular  provinces 
of  economic  life  the  necessity  of  large  philosophic  ideas 
and  of  a  systematic  co-ordination  of  principles.  So  long 
as  economics  remain  a  separate  branch  of  study,  and  until 
they  are  absorbed  into  sociology,  the  thinkers  who  follow 
the  new  direction  will  do  wisely  in  retaining  their  original 
designation  of  the  historical  school. 

The  members  of  the  historical  school  have  produced  many  valu- 
able works  besides  those  which  there  has  been  occasion  to  mention 
above.  Ample  notices  of  their  contributions  to  the  several  branches 
of  the  science  (including  its  applications)  will  be  found  dispersed 
through  "Wagner  and  Nasse's  Lchrbuch  and  the  comprehensive 
Bandbuch  edited  by  Schonberg.  The  following  list,  which  does 
net  pretend  to  approach  to  completeness,  is  given  for  the  purpose 
of  dkecting  the  student  to  a  certain  number  of  books  which  ought 


not  to  be  overlooked  in  the  stuav  of  the  subjects  to  which  they 
respectively  refer ; — 

Knies,  Die  Eiseiibahnen  vnd  ihre  JVirkungen  (1853),  Der  Telegraph  (18.57),  Oeld 
und  Credit  (1873-7G-79);  Riskier,  Zur  Krilit  der  Lehre  vom  ArbeiUlohn,  1801; 
SchmoUer,  Zur  Gescftic/iCe  der  deutaclien  Kleingetrerbe  im  19  Jahrh^  Ib'O ;  Scha£Ele, 
Theorie  tier  aus5chliessendcn  AbsaUverhaltnisse  {l&tiT),  Quintessetti  des  Soetalis- 
niu5  (6th  ed..  1878),  Orundstifze  der  Sletterpolilii  {\&HOy,  Nasse,  iliUelaltertictie 
Feldgemeinschaft  in  England.  1869  ;  Breiitano,  On  the  Iliitoiy  and  Development 
of  Gilds,  prefixed  to  Toulmin  Smith's  English  Gilds  (1870).  Die  Arbeitergifden 
der  Gegentcarl  (1871-72),  Das  Arbeilsverhdltntsi  gemdss  dem  lievtigen  Reclit  (1877), 
Die  Arbeitsrersicherung  gemdss  der  heutigen  Wirthseha/tsordnung  (1879),  Der 
Arbeitsversicherungsttcang  (\SSl) :  Held  (born  1844,  accidcntuJly  drowned  in  Ilia 
Lalte  of  Thun  1880),  Die  Einkommenstever  (1872),  Die  deutsefie  Arbeiierpreste 
drr  Gegentcarl  (1S73),  SozialiSmus,  Sozialdemokratie,  und  Sozialpolitik  (1878), 
■  Orundriss  flir  Vorlesungrn  iiber  yational-bkonomie  (2d  ed.,  1878);  Zicei  BUcher 
zur  soeialen  Oeschic/tte  Englands  (postliumously  published,  1881):  Von  Scheel 
(born  1839).  Die  Theorie  der  soeialen  frage  (1871),  Unsere  social-poiititehen 
Parteien  (1878).  To  these  raay  be  added  L,  von  Stein,  Die  VerwaHungslehre 
(1S76-79),  Lehrbttch  der  Finanzieissenscfiafl  (4th  ed.,  IS7S).  E.  Diihring  is  tlie 
Kblest  of  the  (ew  German  followers  of  Carey;  we^siiall  mention  his  history  here. 
after.  To  the  Rusb-ian-Gei-man  school  belongs  tlie  worlc  of  T.  von  Bernhai-dl, 
wiilch  is  written  fnjm  tlie  hisfoileal  point  of  view,  Versueh  einer  Kritik  der 
Ortlnde  irelehe  fiir  grosses  und  kteines  Grundeigenthum  ange/il/trt  toerden,  1848. 
The  free-trade  school  of  Germany  is  recognized  as  having  rendered  great 
practical  services  in  that  country,  especially  by  its  systematic  warfare  against 
antiquated  privileges  and  restrictions,  Cobdeo  has  furnished  the  model  of  its 
political  action,  whilst,  on  the  side  of  theory,  it  is  founded  chiefly  on  Say  ami 
Bastiat.  The  members  of  this  school  whose  names  have  been  most  frequently 
heard  by  the  English  public  aie  tllose  of  J.  Prince  Smilli,  who  may  be  regarded 
as  Its  head  ;  H.  von  Treitschlte,  author  of  Der  Socialisntus  und  seine  Gonner,  1875 
(directed  a|.T«inst  the  Katheder-Socialisten);  V.  Bohmerr,  wlio  has  advocated  the 
participation  of  worlvmen  In  profits  {Die  Geicinnbecheiligung,  1878) ;  und  J.  H. 
Schultze.Delitzsch,  well  Itnown  as  the  founder  of  tlie  German  popular  b.iniu,  and 
a  strenuous  B\ipporter  of  the  system  of  "co-operation."  The  socialist  wiitei's, 
as  lias  been  already  mentioned,  are  not  included  in  the  pl-esent  historical  survey, 
nor  do  we  in  general  notice  writingsof  the  economists  (properly  so c&lltd)  having 
relation  to  the  history  of  socialism  or  the  controversy  with  it. 

The  movement  which  created  this  school  in  Germany, 
with  the  developments  which  have  grown  out  of  it,  have 
without  doubt  given  to  that  country  at  the  present  time 
the  primacy  in  economic  studies.  German  influence  has 
been  felt  in  the  modification  of  opinion  in  other  countries 
— most  strongly,  perhaps,  in  Italy,  and  least  so  in  France. 
In  England  it  has  been  steadily  making  way,  though 
retarded  by  the  insular  indifierence  to  the  currents  of 
foreign  thought  which  has  eminently  marked  our  dominant 
school.  Alongside  of  the  influence  thus  exerted,  a  general 
distaste  for  the  "  orthodox  "  system  has  been  spontaneously 
growing,  partly  from  a  suspicion  that  its  method  was 
unsound,  and  partly  from  a  profound  dissatisfaction  with 
the  practice  it  inspired,  and  the  detected  hollowness  of  the 
"  ilanchester  "  policy  of  mere  laissez  faire.  Hence  every- 
where a  mode  of  thinking  and  a  species  of  research  have 
shown  themselves,  and  come  into  favour,  which  are  in 
harmony  with  the  systematic  conceptions  of  the  historical 
economists.  Thus  a  dualism  has  established  itself  in  the 
economic  world,  a  younger  school  advancing  towards  pre- 
dominance, whilst  the  old  school  still  defends  its  position, 
though  its  adherents  tend  more  and  more  to  modify  their 
attitude  and  to  admit  the  value  of  the  new  lights. 

Italy. — It  is  to  be  regretted  that  very  little  is  knowa 
in  England  of  the  writings  of  the  recent  Italian  eco- 
nomists. Luigi  Cossa's  Guida,  which  was  translated  at 
the  suggestion  of  Jevons,  has  given  us  some  notion  of  tha 
character  and  importance  of  their  labours.  The  urgency 
of  questions  of  finance  in  Italy  since  its  political  renas- 
cence has  turned  their  researches  for  the  most  part  into 
practical  channels,  and  they  have  produced  numerous 
monographs  on  statistical  and  administrative  questions. 
But  they  have  also  dealt  ably  with  the  general  doctrines 
of  the  science.  Cossa  pronounces  Angelo  Messedaglia 
(b.  1820),  professor  at  Padua,  to  be  the  foremost  of  contem- 
porary Italian  economists;  he  has  written  on  public  loans 
(185())  and  on  population  (1858),  and  is  regarded  as  a 
master  of  the  subjects  of  money  and  credit.  His  pupil 
Fedele  Lampertico  (b.  1833)  is  author  of  many  writings, 
among  which  the  most  systematic  and.  complete  is  his 
Economia  del  popoli  e  degli  stati  (1874-1880).  Marco 
Minghetti,  distinguished  as  a  minister,  is  author,  besides 
other  writings,  of  Economia  pubblica  e  le  sue  attinenze  colla 
morale  e  col  diritlo  (1859).  ,  Luigi  Luzzati,  also  known  as 
an  able  administrator,  has  by  several  publications  sought 
to  prepare  the  way  for  reforms.     The  Sicilians  Vito  Cusu- 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


395 


mano  and  Giuseppe  Ricca  Salerno  have  produced  excellent 
works  : — the  former  on  the  history  of  political  economy  in 
tie  Middle  Ages  (1876),  and  the  economic  schools  of  Ger- 
many in  their  relation  to  the  social  question  (1875);  the 
latter  on  the  theories  of  capital,  wages,  and  public  loans 
(1877-8-9)<     Cossa,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  most  of 
these  particulars,  is  himself  author  of  several  works  which 
have  established  for  him  a  high  reputation,  as  his  Scierua 
delle  Finance  (JS75  ;  3d  ed.,  1882),  and  bis  Primi  Ek- 
menti  di  EcoHomia  Polilica  (1875;  4th  ed.,  1878),  which 
latter  has  been  translated  into  several  European  languages. 
Of  greater  interest  than  such   an  imperfect  catalogue 
of  writers  is  the  fact  of  the  appearance  in  Italy  of  the 
economic  dualism  to  which  wc  have  referred  as  character- 
izing our  time.     There  also  the  two  schools — the  old  or 
80-called  orthodox  and  the  new  or  historical — with  their 
respective  modified  forms,  are  found  face  to  face.     Cossa 
tells  us   that  the  instructors  *f   the  younger  economists 
in  northern   Italy  were   publicly  denounced    in   187-1  as 
Germanists,  socialists,  and  corrupters  of  the  Italian  youth. 
In  reply  to  this  charge  Luzzati,  Lampertico,  and  Scialoja 
convoked  in  Milan  the  first  congress  of  economists  (1875) 
with  the   object   of   proclaiming  their   resistance  to  the 
idea  which  was  sought  to  be  imposed  on  them  "  that  the 
science  was  born  and  died  with  Adam  Smith  and  his  com- 
mentators."    M.  do  Laveleye's  interesting  Leilres  d'  Italit 
(1878-79)  throw  light  on  the  state  of  economic  studies  in 
that  country  in  still  more  recent  years.     Minghetti,  pro- 
siding   at   the   banquet   at   which  M.    de  Laveleye   was 
entertained  By  his  Italian  brethren,  spoke  of  the  "  two 
tendencies  "  which  had  manifested  themselves,  and  implied 
his  own  inclination  to  the  new  views.     Carlo  Ferraris,  a 
pupil  of   Wagner,    follows   the   same  direction.     Formal 
expositions  and  defences   of  the  historical   method  have 
been  produced  by  Schiattarella  (Del  metodo  in  Economia 
Sociale,  1875)  and  Cognetti  de  Martiis  {Delia  attineme  tra 
I' Economia  Sociale  e  la  Storia,  1865).     A  large  measure 
of  acceptance  has  also  been  given  to  the  historical  method 
in  learned  and  judicious  monographs  by  Ricca  Salerno 
{see  especially  his  essay  Del  metodo  in  Econ.  Pol.,  1878). 
Luzzati  and  Forti  for  some  time  edited  a  periodical,  the 
Giomale  degli  Economisti,    which   was  the  organ  of  the 
new  school,  but  which,  we  gather  from  Cossa,  has  ceased 
to  appear.     Cossa  himself,  whilst  refusing  his  adhesion  to 
this  school  on  the  ground  that  it  reduces  political  economy 
to  a  mere  narrative  of  facts, — an  observation  which,  wo 
must  bo  permitted  to  say,  betrays  an  entire  misconception 
of  its  true  principles, — admits  that  it  has  been  most  useful 
in  several  ways,  and  especially  as  having  given  the  signal 
for  a  salutary,  though,  as  he  thinks,  an  excessive,  reaction 
against  the  doctrinaire  exaggerations  of  the  older  theorists. 
FraTice. — In  France  the  historical  school  has  not  made 
80  strong  an  impression, — partly,  no  doubt,  because  the 
extreme  doctrines  of  the  Ricardian  system  never  obtained 
much  hold  there.     It  was  by  his  recognition  of  its  freedom 
from  those  exaggerations  that  Jevons  was  led  to  declare 
that  "  the  truth  is  with  the  French  school,"  whilst  he  pro- 
nounced our  English  economists  to  have  been  "  living  in 
a  fool's  paradise."     National  prejudice  may  also  have  con- 
tributed to  the  result  referred  to,  the  ordinary  Frenchman 
being  at  present  disposed  to  ask  whether  any  good  thing 
can  come  out  of  Germany.     But,  as  we  have  shown,  the 
philosophic  doctrines  on  which  the  whole  proceeding  of  the 
historical    school    is  founded  were  first  enunciated  Jjy  a 
great  French    thinker,'  to  whose    splendid  services   most 
of  his    fellow-countrymen  are    singularly  dead.     Perhaps 
another  determining  cause  is  to  be  looked  for  in  official 
influences,  which  in  France,  by  their  action  on  the  higher 
education,  impede  the  free  movement  of  independent  con- 
viction. 06  waK  seen  notably  in  the  temporary  dclat  they 


gave  on  me  wider  philosophic  stage  to  the  shallow  eclecti- 
cism of  Cousin.  The  tendency  to  the  historical  point  of 
view  has  appeared  in  France,  as  elsewhere ;  but  it  has 
shown  itself  not  so  much  in  modifying  general  doctrine  as 
in  leading  to  a  more  careful  study  of  the  economic  opioiona 
and  institutions  of  the  past. 

Much  useful  work  has  been  done  by  Frenchmen  (with  whom 
Belgians  may  here  bo  associated)  in  tho  history  of  political  economy, 
regarded  either  aa  a  body  of  theory  or  as  a  system — or  series  of 
systems — of  policy.     Blanqui's  history  (1837-38)  is  not,  indeed, 
entitled  to  a  very  high  rank,  but  it  was  serviceable  as  a  6rst  general 
draught.     That  of  \  illeneuve-Bargemont  (1839)  was  also  interest- 
ing and  useful,  as  presenting  the  (Catholic  view  of  the  development 
and  tendencies  of  the  science.     C.  Perin's  Les  doctrines  (conomiquM 
dcpuis  nn  siicle  (1880)  is  written  from  the  same  jxiint  of  view.     A 
number  of  valuable  monographs  on  particular  statesmen  or  thinkers 
has  also  been  produced  by  Frenchmen, — as,  for  example,  that  of  A. 
Batbie,  on  Tiirgot  {Turgol Philosophe,Economistc, elJ dminisCrateur, 
1861) ;  of  Pierre  Clement  on  Colbert  (Histoire  de  Colbert  et  de  son 
J d ministration,  2d.  ed.,  1875);  of  H.  Bnudrillart  on  Bodin  (J.  Bodin 
et  son  Temps;  Tableau  des  Theories politiques  et  des Idies (conomiquet 
ail  IC  siecle,  1853) ;   of  L.  de  Lavergne  on  the  physiocrats  (ia 
£conomiates  Franfais  du  18'  siecle,  1870).     Works,  too,  of  real  im- 
portance have  been  produced  on  particular  aspects  of  the  industrial 
development,  as  those  of  Leonce  de  Lavergne  on  tlie  rural  economy 
of  France  (1857),  and  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland  (1854). 
The  treatise  of  ilmile  de  Laveleye,  De  la  Propriety  et  de  scs  formes  I.aT* 
primitives  (1874 ;  Eng.  trans,  by  G.  R.  Marriott,  1878),  is  specially  '>^>  '- 
worthy  of  notice,  not  merely  for  its  array  of  facts  respecting  the 
early  forms  of  property,  but  because  it  co-operates  strongly  with  the 
tendency  of  the  new  school  to  regard  eacn  stage  of  economic  life 
from  the  relative  point  of  view,  as  resulting  fronj  an  historic  past, 
harmonizing  with  the  entire  body  of  contemporary  social  conditions, 
and  bearing  in  its  bosom  the  germs  of  a  future,  predetermined  in  its 
essential  character,  though  modifiable  in  its  secondary  dispositions. 
M.  de  Laveleye  has  done  much  to  call  attention  to  the  general 
principles  of  the  historical  school,  acting  in  this  way  most  usefully 
as  an  interpreter  between  Germany  and  France.     But  he  appears 
in   his   most  recent   manifesto  (Xm   Zois  naturelles  et   I'ohjet  de 
l iconomie   Politique,  1883)   to   senarate   himself    from   the   best 
members  of  that  school,  and  to  fall  into  positive  error,  when 'he 
refuses  to  economics  the  character  of  a  true  science  (or  department 
of  a  science)  as  distinguished  from   an  art,  and  denies  the  existence 
of  economic  laws  or  tendencies  independent  of  individual  wills. 
Such  a  denial  seems  to  involve  that  ol  social  laws  generally,  which 
is  a  singularly  retrograde  attitude  for  a  thinker  of  our  time  to  take 
up,  and  one  which  cannot  be  excused  since  tho  appearance  of  tlifc 
Philosophic  Positive.     Tho  use  of  the  metaphysical  phrase  "neces- 
sary  laws "  obscures   the   qviestion  ;   it   suffices  to  speak  of  laws 
which  do  in  fact   prevail.     M.  de  Laveleye  relies  on    morals  8» 
supplying  a  parallel  case,  where  wo  deal,  not  with  natural  laws,  but 
with  "imperative  prescriptions,"  as  if  these  prescriptions  did  not 
imply,  as  their  basis,  observed  coexistences  and  sequences,  and  as 
if  there  were  no  such  thing  as  moral  evolution.     Ho  seems  to  bo  aa 
far  from  the  right  point  of  view  in  one  direction  as  his  opponents 
of  the  old  school  in  another.     All  that  his  arguments  have  really 
any  tendency  to  prove  is  tho  proposition,  undoubtedly  a  true  one, 
that  economic  facts  cannot  bo  explained  by  a  theory  which  leaves 
out  of  account  tho   other  social  aspects,  and   therefore   that  our 
studies  and  expositions  of  economic  pheuojnena  must  be  kept  in 
close  relation  with  the  conclusions  of  tlio  larger  science  of  society. 

We  cannot  do  more  than  notice  in  a  general  way  some  of  tho 
expository  treatises  of  which  there  has  been  an  almost  continuous 
scries  from  tho  time  of  Say  downwards,  or  indeed  from  tlio  date  of 
Germain  Garnier's  Abreqi  dcs  Principes  dc  VJ^conomie  Politique 
(1796).  That  of  Dostutt  do  Tracy  forms  a  portion  of  his  £UmcnU 
d'Ideologie  (1823).  Droz  brought  out  espicially  the  rehillons  of 
economics  to  morals  and  of  wealth  to  human  happiness  {iMiiomi* 
Politique,  1829).  Pcllcgrino  R6ssi,— on  Italian,  formed,  however, 
as  an  economist  by  studies  in  Switzerland,  professing  tho  science 
in  Paris,  and  writing  in.  French  (fours  d'^conomie  Politique, 
1838-54),— gave  in  classic  form  nn,  exposition  of  the  doctrines  of 
Say,  Malthus,  and  Ricardo.  Jliohel  Chevalier  (I806-187P),  specially 
known  in  England  by  his  tract,  translated  by  Cobden,  on  the  fall  in 
the  value  of  gold  (La  Baisse  d'Or,  1858),  gives  in  his  Covrs  d'£eo- 
noniie  Politique  (1845-50).particularly  valuable  matter  on  the  most 
recent  industrial  phenomena,  and  on  niomy  and  the  proiluction'ol 
tho  precious  metals.  '  Henri  Baudrillart,  niithor  of  Les  KapjKnls  d» 
la  troml'clde  I'Sconomie  Politique  (1860,  2d  C.I.,  1883),  and  of 
Histoire  du  Luxe  (1878),  published  in  1857  a  Manuel  d\i!conomit 
PoliCiijue  (3d  od.,  1872),  wnicli  Cossa  calls  an  "admirable  compon> 
dium."  io%o\'\\Gtirnu'r(TrnitideV Eeonomie Politique,  I860.8tJied., 
1880)  in  some  respects  follows  Dunoyer.  J.  G.  CourcelloSoneui), 
tho  translatorof  f.  S.  Mill,  whbm  I'mf.  F.  A.  'Wnlker calls  "  pcrhtins 
tho  ablest  economist  writing  in  the  I'rincU  language  since  J.  B 


396 


POLITICAL     ECONOMY 


Say,"  besides  a  Traiti  (hiorique  el  pratique  dcs  opiralions  de  Banque 
and  Thiorie  des  Enterprises  Indxistrielhs  (1856),  wrote  a  Traite 
de  T^conomie  Politique  (1858-59),  which  is  held  in  much  esteem. 
Finally,  the  Genevese,  Antoine  Elise  Cherbuliez  (d.  1869)  was  author 
of  what  Cossa  pronounces  to  be  the  best  treatise  on  the  science  in 
the  French  language  {Pricis  de  la  Science  £conomique,  1862).  L. 
Walras,  in£limcnts  d' £conomie Politique pwre (1874-77),  and  Thiorie 
Mathiniatique  de  la  Eichesse  Sociale  (1883),  has  followed  the  ex- 
ample of  Cournot  in  attempting  a  mathematical  treatment  of  the 
subject. 

England. — Sacrificing  the  strict  chronological  order  of 
the  history   of   economics   to   deeper   considerations,  we 
have  already  spoken  of  Cairnes,  describing  him  as  the  last 
original  English  writer  who  was  an  adherent  of  the  old 
school  pure  and  simple.     Both  in  method  and  doctrine  he 
was  essentially  Ricardian ;  thbugh  professing  and  really 
feeling  profound  respect  for  Mill,  he  was  disposed  to  go 
behind  him  and  attach  himself  rather  to  theit  common 
master.     Mr  Sidgwick  is  doubtless  right  in  believing  that 
hia  Leading  Principles  did  much  to  shake  "  the  unique 
prestige  which   Mill's  exposition  had  enjoyed  for  nearly 
half  a  generation,"  and  in  this,  as  in  some  other  ways, 
Cairnes  may   have   been  a  dissolving  force,  and  tended 
towards  radical  change ;  but,  if  he  exercised  this  influence, 
he  did  so  unconsciously  and  involuntarily.     Many  influ- 
ences had,  however,  for  some  time  been  silently  sapping 
the   foundations   of    the   old   system.     The   students   of 
Comte  had  seen  that  its  method  was  an  erroneous  one. 
The  elevated  moral  teaching  of  Carlyle  had  disgusted  the 
best  minds  with  the  low  maxims  of  the  Manchester  school. 
Ruskin  had  not  merely  protested  against  the  egoistic  spirit 
of  the  prevalent  doctrine,  but  had  pointed  to  some  of  its 
real  weaknesses  as  a  scientific  theory.^     It  began  to  be 
felt,  and  even  its  warmest  partisans  sometimes  admitted, 
that  it  had  done  all  the  work,  mainly  a  destructive  one,  of 
.which    it    was    capable.     Cairnes    himself    declared  that, 
iWhilst  most  educated  people  believed  it  doomed  to  sterility 
for  the  future,  some  energetic  minds  thought  it  likely  to 
be  a  positive  obstruction    in  the   way  of   useful  reform. 
Miss  Martineau,  who  had  in  earlier  life  been  a  thorough 
Ricardian,  came  to  think  that  political  economy,  as  it  had 
been  elaborated  by  her  contemporaries,  was,  strictly  speak- 
ing, no  science  at  all,  and  must  undergo  such  essential 
change  that  future   generations    would   owe    little    to    it 
beyond  the  establishment  of  the  existence  of  general  laws 
in    one   department   of    human    aSairs.     The    instinctive 
repugnance  of  the  working  classes  had  continued,  in  spite 
of  the  eS"orts  of  their  superiors  to  recommend  its  lessons 
to   them — efforts    which    were  perhaps   not  unfrequently 
dictated    rather  by  class    interest   than  by  public    spirit. 
AU    the    symptoms    boded    impending   change,    but  they 
were  visible  rather  in  general  literature  and  in  the  atmo- 
sphere of  social  opinion  than  within  the  economic  circle. 
But  when  it  became  known  that  a  great  movement  had 
taken  place,    especially  in    Germany,    on    new  and  more 
hopeful  lines,  the  English  economists  themselves  began  to 
recognize  the  necessity  of  a  reform  and  even  to  further  its 
ftdvent.     The  principal  agencies  of  this  kind,  in  marshal- 
ling the  way  to  a  renovation  of  the  science,  have  been 
those  of  Bagehot,  Leslie,  and  Jevons, — the  first  limiting 
the  sphere  of  the  dominant  system,  while  seeking  to  con- 
serve  it    within    narrower    bounds ;    the    second    directly 
assailing  it  and  setting  up  the  new  method  as  the  rival 
and  destined  successor  of  the  old  ;  and  the  third  acknow- 
ledging   the    collapse    of  the  hitherto    reigning   dynasty, 
proclaiming  the  necessity  of  an  altered  regime,  and  admit- 
ting the  younger  claimant  as  joint  possessor  in  the  future. 
Thus,  in  England  too,  the  dualism  which  exists  on  the 
Continent  has    been  established;  and  there  is  reason  to" 

'  Tie  remarkable  book  Money  and  Morals,  by  John  Lalor,  1852, 
■was  -aritten  partly  under  the  influence  of  Carlyle.  There  is  a  good 
monograph  enWWci  John  Ruskin,  Economist,  by  P.  Geddes,  1884. 


expect  that  here  more  speedily  and  decisively  than  in 
France  or  Italy  the  historical  school  will  displace  its 
antagonist.  It  is  certainly  in  England  next  after  Germany 
that  the  preaching  of  the  new  views  has  been  moat 
vigorously  and  effectively  begun. 

Walter  Bagehot  (1826-1877)  was  author  of  an  excellent 
work  on  the  English  money  market  and  the  circumstances 
which  have  determined  its  peculiar  character  {Lombard 
Street,  1873;  7th  ed.,  1878),  and  of  several  monographs 
on  particular  monetary  questions,  which  his  practical  ex- 
perience, combined  with  his  scientific  habits  of  thought, 
eminently  fitted  hita  to  handle.  On  the  general  prin- 
ciples of  economics  he  wrote  some  highly  importai^;  essays 
collected  in  Economic  Studies  (edited  by  R.  H.  Button, 
1880),  the  object  of  which  was  to  show  that  the  tradi- 
tional system  of  political  economy — the  system  of  Ricardo 
and  J.  S.  Mill — rested  on  certain  fundamental  assump- 
tions, which,  instead  of  being  universally  true  in  fact,' 
were  only  realized  within  very  narrow  limits  of  time 
and  space.  Instead  of  being  applicable  to  all  states  of 
society,  it  holds  only  in  relation  to  those  "  in  which  com- 
merce has  largely  developed,  and  where  it  has  taken  the 
form  of  development,  or  something  like  the  form,  which  it 
has  taken  Id  England."  It  is  "the  science  of  business 
such  as  business  is  in  large  and.  trading  communities— an 
analysis  of  the  great  commerce  by  which  England  has 
become  rich."  But  more  than  this  it  is  not;  it  will  not 
explain  the  economic  life  of  earlier  times,  nor  even  of 
other  communities  in  our  own  time;  and  for  the  latter 
reason  it  has  remained  insular ;  it  has  never  been  fully 
accepted  in  other  countries  as  it  has  been  at  home.  It  is, 
in  fact,  a  sort  of  ready  reckoner,  enabling  us  to  calculate 
roughly  what  will  happen  under  given  conditions  ia 
Lombard  Street,  on  the  Stock  Exchange,  and  in  the  great 
markets  of  the  world.  It  is  a  "  convenient  series  of 
deductions  from  assumed  axioms  which  are  never  quite 
true,  which  in  many  times  and  countries  would  be  utterly 
untrue,  but  which  are  sufficiently  near  to  the  principal 
conditions  of  the  modern  "  English  "  world  to  make  it  use- 
ful to  consider  them  by  themselves." 

Mill  and  Cairnes  had  already  shown  that  the  scienca 
they  taught  was  a  hypothetic  one,  in  the  sense  that  it 
dealt  not  with  real  but  with  imaginary  men — "  economic 
men "  who  were  conceived  as  simply  "  money-making 
animals."  But  Bagehot  went  further:  he  showed  what 
those  writers,  though  they  may  have  indicated,  had  not 
clearly  brought  out,-  that  the  world  in  which  these  men 
were  supposed  to  act  is  also  ''  a  very  limited  and  peculiar 
world."  'What  marks  off  this  special  world,  he  tells  us,  is 
the  promptness  of  transfer  of  capital  and  labour  from  one 
employment  to  another,  as  determined  by  differences  in 
the  remuneration  of  those  several  employments — a  prompt- 
ness, about  the  actual  existence  of  which  in  the  contempor- 
ary English  world  he  fluctuates  a  good  deal,  but  which  on 
the  whole  he  recognizes  as  substantially  realized. 

Bagehot  described  himself  as  "  the  last  man  of  the  ante- 
Mill  period,"  having  learned  his  economics  from  Ricardo; 
and  the  latter  writer  he  appears  to  have  to  the  end  greatly 
over-estimated.  But  he  lived  long  enough  to  gain  some 
knowledge  of  the  historical  method,  and  with  it  he  had 
"no  quarrel,  but  rather  much  sympathy."  "Rightly 
conceived,"  he  said,  "  it  is  no  rival  to  the  abstract  method 
rightly  conceived."  We  will  not  stop  to  criticize  a  second 
time  the  term  "  abstract  method  "  here  applied  to  that  of 
the  old  school,  or  to  insist  on  the  truth  that  all  science  is 
necessarily  abstract,  the  only  question  that  can  arise  being 
as  to  the  just  degree  of  abstraction,  or,  in  general,  as  to  the 
right  constitution  of  the  relation  between  the  abstract  and 

^  Jones,  whose  writings  were  apparently  unknown  to  Bagelipt,  bad, 
as  we  have  seen,  in  some  degree  anticipated  him  iu  tbis  exposition. 


POLITICAL     ECONOI\IY 


397 


the  concrete.  It  is  more  apposite  to  remark  that  Eagehot's 
view  of  the  reconciliatioQ  of  the  two  methods  is  quite 
different  from  that  of  most  "  orthodox  "  economists.  They 
commonly  treat  the  historical  method  with  a  sort  of 
patronizing  toleration  as  aSordiog  useful  exemplifications 
or  illustrations  of  their  theorems.  But,  according  to  him, 
the  two  methods  are  applicable  in  quite  different  fields.  . 
For  what  he  calls  the  "  abstract  "  method  he  reserves  the 
narrow,  but  most  immediately  interesting,  province  of 
modern  advanced  industrial  life,  and  hands  over  to  the 
historical  the  economic  phenomena  of  all  the  human  past 
and  all  the  rest  •  of  the  human  present.  Ho  himself 
exhibits  much  capacity  for  such  historical  research,  and  in 
particular  has  thrown  real  light  on  the  less-noticed  econo- 
mic and  social  effects  of  the  institution  of  money,  and  on 
the  creation  of  capital  ip  the  earlier  stages  of  society. 
But  his  principal  efficacy  has  been  in  reducing,  by  the 
considerations  we  have  mentioned,  still  further  than  his 
pVedec'essors  had  done,  our  conceptions  of  the  work  which 
the  «  priori  methocj  can  do.  He  in  fact  dispelled  the  idea 
that  it  can  ever  supply  the  branch  of  general  sociology 
which  deals  with  wealth.  As  to  the  relations  of  economics 
to  .the  other  sides  of  sociology,  he  holds  that  the 
"  abstract "  science  rightly  ignores  them.  It  does  not 
consider  the  differences  of  human  wants,  or  the  social 
results  of  their  several  gratifications,  except  so  far  as  these 
affect  the  production  of  wealth.  In  its  view.  "  a  pot  of 
beer' and  a  picture — a  book  of  religion  and  a  pack  of 
cards — are  equally  worthy  of  regard."  It  therefore  leaves 
the  ground  open  for  a  science  which  will,  on  the  one  hand, 
study  wealth  as  a  social  fact  in  all  its  successive  forms 
and  phases,  and,  on  the  other,  will  regard  it  in  its  true 
light  as  an  instrument  for  the  conservation  and  evolution 
— moral  as  well  as  material — of  human  societies. 

Thiough  it  will  involve  a  slight  digression,  it  is  desirable  here  to 
noUce  a  further  attenuation  of  the  functions  of  the  deductive 
method,  which  is  well  pointed  out  in  Mr  Sidgwick's  recent  remark- 
able work  on  political  economy.'  He  observes  that,  whilst  J.  S. 
Mill  declares  that  the  method  a  priori  is  the  true  metliod  of  the 
science,  and  that  "  it  has  been  so  understood  and  taught  by  all  its 
inost  distinguished  teachers,"  he  yet  himself  in  the  treatment  of 
,>rodnciion  followed  an  inductive  method  (or  at  least  one  essentially 
ililferent  from  the  deductive),  obtaining  his  results  by  "merely 
analysing  and  systematizing  our  common  empirical  knowledge  of 
the  facts  of  industry."  To  explain  this  characteristic  inconsistency, 
Mr  Sidgwick  suggests  that  Mill,  in  making  his  general  statement 
as  to  method,  had  in  contemplation  only  the  statics  of  distribution 
diid  exchange.  And  in  this  latter  field  Mr  Sidgwick  holds  that 
the  a  priori  method,  if  it  be  pursued  with  caution,  it  the  .simpli- 
fied premises  be  well  devised  and  the  conclusions  ■"  modificl  by  a 
rough  conjectural  allowance"  for  the  elements  omitted  in  the  pre- 
mises, is  not,  for  the  case  of  a  developed  industrial  society, 
"essentially  false  or  misleading."  Its  conclusions  are  hypotheti- 
cally  valid,  though  "its  utility  as  a  means  of  interpreting  and 
explaining  concrete  facts  depends  on  its  being  used  with  as  full  a 
knowledge  as  possible  of  the  results  of  observation  and  induction." 
We  do  not  think  this  statement  need  be  objected  to,  though  wo 
should  prefer  to  regard  deduction  from  hypothesis  as  a  useful 
occasional  logical  artifice,  and,  as  such,  perfectly  legitimate  in 
this  as  in  other  fields  of  inquiry,  rather  than  as  the  moin  form  of 
method  in  any  department  of  cr.onoinics.  Mr  Sidgwick,  by  his 
limitation  of  deduction  in  distributional  questions  to  "a  state  of 
things  taken  as  the  type  to  which  civilized  society  generally 
anproximates,"  seems  to  agree  with  Bagehot  that  for  times  and 
places  which  do  not  correspond  to  this  type  kho  historiciil 
method  must  bo  used — a  metnod  wHich,  bo  it  observed,  does  not 
exolude,  but  positively  implies,  "reflective  analysis"  of  the  facts, 
(nd  their  interpretation  from  "the  motives  of  human  agents  "  as 
well  as  from  other  determining  conditions.  In  "the  dyuamii-nl 
»tudy  of  wealth — of  the  changes  in  its  distribution  no  less  than  its 
production — Mr  Sidgwick  ailniits  that  the  method  a  priori  "  cnn 
occupy  but  a  very  subordinate  place."  Wo  should  sny  that  hero 
also,  though  to  a  kss  extent,  as  a  logical  artifice  it  may  .sometimes 
he  useful,  though  the  hypotheses  assumed  ought  not  tn  he  the  same 
that  are  adapted  to  a  mature  iodustrial  stage.  But  the  essential 
organ  must  bo  the  historical  methqd,  studying  comparatively  the 
dillcrent  phases  of  social  evolution. 

Connected  with  the  theory  of  modern  industry  is  one 


subject  which  Bagehot  treated,  though  only  in  an  incidental 
way,  much  more  satisfactorily  than  his  predecessors, — 
namely,  the  function  of  the  entrepreneur,  who  in  Mill  and 
Cairnes  is  scarcely  recognized  except  as  the  owner  of 
capital.  It  is  quite  singular  how  little,  in  the  Leading 
Principles  of  the  latter,  his  active  co-operation  is  taken 
into  account.  Bagehot  objects  to  the  phrase  "  wages  of 
superintendence,"  commonly  used  to  express  his  "  reward," 
as  suggesting  altogether  erroneous  ideas  of  the  nature  of 
his  work,  and  well  describes  the  large  and  varied  range 
of  his  activity  and  usefulness,  -and  the  rare  combination 
of  gifts  and  acquirements  which  go  to  make  up  the  per- 
fection of  his  equipment.  It  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that 
a  foregone  conclusion  in  favour  of  the  system  of  (so-called) 
cooperation  has  sometimes  led  economists  to  keep  these 
important  considerations  in  the  background.  _  They  have 
been  brought  into  due  prominence  of  late  in  the  treatises 
of  Profs.  Marshall  and  F.  A.  Walker,  who,  however,  have 
scarcely  made  clear,  and  certainly  have  not  justified,  the 
principle  on  which  the  amount  of  the  remuneration  of  the 
entrepreneur  is  determined. 

We  have  seen  that  Jones  had  in  his  dogmatic  teaching 
anticipated  in  some  degree  the  attitude  of  the  new  school ; 
important  works  had  also  been  produced,  notably  by 
Thomas  Tooke  and  William  Newmarch  {History  of  Prices, 
1838-1857),  and  by  James  E.  Thorold  Eogers  {History  oj 
Agnndture  and  Prices  in  England,  1866-o2),  on  the  course 
of  English  economic  history.  But  the  first  systematic 
statement  by  an  English  writdr  of  the  philosophic  founda- 
tion of  the  historical  method,  as  the  appropriate  organ  of 
economic  research,  is  to  be  .found  in  an  essay  by  T.  E. 
Cliffe  Leslie  (printed  in  the  Dublin  University  periodical, 
Hermaihena,  1876;  since  included  in  his  Essays  Moral 
and  Political,  1879).  This  essay  wag  the  most  important 
publication  on  the  logical  aspect  of  economic  science- which 
had  appeared  since  Mill's  essay  in  his  Unsettled  Questions. 
Though  Cairnes  had  expanded  and  illustrated  tlie  views 
of  Mill,  he  had  really  added  little  to  their  substance. 
Leslie  takes  up  a  position  directly  opposed  to  theirs.  _  He 
criticizes  with  much  force  and  verve  the  principles  and 
practice  of  the  "  orthodox "  school.  Those  who  are 
acquainted  with  what  has  been  written  on  this  subject  by 
Knies  and  other  Germans  will  appreciate  the  freshness 
and  originality  of  Leslie's  treatment.  He'points  out  the 
loose  and  vague  character  of  the  principle  to  which  the 
classical  economists  profess  to, trace  back  all  the  pheno- 
mena with  which  they  deal— namely,  the  "  desire  of 
wealth."  This  phrase  really  stands  for  a  variety  of  wants, 
desires,  and  sentiments,  widely  different  in  their  nature 
and  economic  effects,  and  undergoing  important  changes 
(as,  indeed,  the  component  elements  of  wealth  itself  also 
do)  in  the  several  successive  stages  of  the  social  move- 
ment, The  truth  is  that  there  are  many  different  economic 
motors,  altruistic  as  well  as  egoistic ;  and  they  cannot  all 
be  lumped  together  by  such  a  coarse  generalization.  The 
a  priori  and  purely  dcluctivo  method  cannot  yield  an 
explanation  of  the  cau.scs  which  regulate  cither  the  nature 
or  the  amount  of  wealth,  nor  of  the  varieties  of  distribu- 
tion in  different  social  systems,  as,  for  example,  in  those 
of  France  and  England.  "  The  whole  economy  of  every 
nation  is  the  result  of  a  long  evolution  in  which  there 
has  been  both  continuity  and  change,  and  of  which  the 
economical  side  is  only  a  particular  aspect.  And  the  laws 
of  which  it  is  the  result  must  be  sought  in  history  and' 'the 
general  laws  of  society  and  .social  evolution."  'The  intel- 
lectual, moral,  legal,  political,  and  economic  sides  of  social 
progress  arc  indissolubly  connected.  Thu.s,  juridical  facts 
relating  to  ])roperty,  occupation,  and  trade,,  thrown'  up  by 
the  social  movement,  are  also  economic  facta.  And,  moro 
generally,  ",the  ieconomic  condition  of  English  '•"'  or  any 


398 


r  O  L  I  T  I  C  A  L     ECONOMY 


otlicr  "society  at  this  day  is  the.  outcome  of  the  entire 
movement  which  has  evolved  the  political  constitution,  the 
strHcture  of  the  family,  the  forms  of  religion,  the  learned 
professions,  the  arts  and  sciences,  the  state  of  agriculture, 
manufactures,  and  commerce."  To  understand  existing 
economic  relations  we  must  trace  their  historical  evolution  ; 
and  "  the  philosophical  method  of  political  economy  must 
be  one  which  expounds  that  evolution."  This  essay  was 
the  most  distinct  chiUenge  ever  addressed  to  the  ideas  of 
the  old  school  on  method,  and,  though  its  conclusions  have 
been  protested  against,  the  arguments  on  which  they  are 
founded  have  never  been  answered. 

With  respect  to  the  dogmatic  generalizations  of  the 
"  orthodox  "  economics,  Leslie  thought  some  of  them  were 
false,  and  all  of  them  required  careful  limitation.  Early 
in  his  career  he  had  shown  the  hollowness  of  the  wage- 
fund  theory,  though  he  was  not  the  first  to  repudiate  it.' 
The  doctrine  of  an  average  rate  of  wages  and  an  average 
rate  of  profits  he  rejected  except  under  the  restrictions 
stated  by  Adam  Smith,  which  imply  a  "small  and 
stationary  world  of  trade."  He  thought  the  glib  assump- 
tion of  an  average  rate  of  wages,  as  well  as  of  a  wage- 
fund,  had  done  much  harm  ."  by  hiding  the  real  rates  of 
wages,  the  real  causes  which  govern  them,  and  the  real 
sources  from  which  wages  proceed."  The  facts,  which  he 
laboriously  collected,  he  found  to  be  everywhere  against 
the  theory.  In  every  country  there  is  really  "  a  great 
number  of  rates ;  and  the  real  problem  is,  What  are  the 
causes  which  produce  these  diflEerent  rates  ?"  As  to  profits, 
he  denies  that  there  are  any  means  of  knowing  the  gains 
and  prospects  of  all  the  investments  of  capital,  and 
declares  it  to  be  a  mere  fiction  that  any  capitalist  surveys 
the  whole  field.  Bagehot,  as  we  saw,  gave  up  the  doctrine 
of  a  national  level  of  wages  and  profits  except  in  the 
peculiar  case  of  an  industrial  society  of  the  contemporary 
English  type ;  Leslie  denies  it  even  for  such  a  society. 
With  this  doctrine,  that  of  cost  of  production  as  determin- 
ing price  collapses,  and  the  principle  emerges  that  it  is 
not  cost  of  production,  but  demand  and  supply,  on  which 
domestip,  no  less  than  international,  values  depend, — ' 
though  this  formula  will  require  much  interpretation 
before  it  can  be  used  safely  and  with  advantage.  Thus 
Leslie  extends  to  the  whole  of  the  national  industry  the 
partial  negation  bf  the  older  dogma  introduced  by  Cairnes 
through  the  idea  of  non-competing  groups.  He  does  not, 
of  course,  dispute  the  real  operation  of  cost  of  production 
on  price  in  the  limited  area  within  which  rates  of  profit 
and  wages  are  determinate  and  known  ;  but  he  maintains 
that  its  action  on  the  large  scale  is  too  remote  and 
uncertain  to  justify  our  treating  it  as  regulator  of  price. 
Now,  if  this  be  so,  the  entire  edifice  which  Kicardo  reared 
on  the  basis  of  the  identity  of  cost  of  production  and  price, 
with  its  apparent  but  unreal  simplicity,  symmetry,' and 
completeness,  disappears;  and  the  ground  is  cleared  for 
the  new  structure  which  must  take  its  place.  Leslie  pre- 
dicts that,  if  political  economy,  under  that  name,  does  not 
bend  itself  to  the  task  of  rearing  such  a  structure,  the  office 
will  speedily  be  taken  out  of  its  hands  by  sociology. 

Leslie  was  a  successful  student  of  several  special 
economic  subjects — of  agricultural  economy,  of  taxation, 
of  the  distribution  of  the  precious  metals  and  the  history 
of  prices,  and,  as  has  been  indicated,  of  the  movements  of 
wages.  But  it  is  in  relation  to  the  method  and  funda- 
mental doctrines  of  the  science  that  he   did   the  most 

•'  Tliat  service  was  du6  to  F.  D.  Longe  {Re/iUatimi  o/the  Wage- 
Fund  Theory  of  Modem  Political  Ecmomy,  1866).  Leslie's  treat- 
ment of  the  subject  was  contained  in  an  article  of  Fraser's  Magazine 
for  July  1868,  reprinted  as  an  appendix  to  his  Land-Syslems  and 
Industrial  Economy  of  Ireland,  England,  and  ConliTiental  Countries. 
1870. 


important,  because  the  most  opportune  and  needful  work. 
And,  though  his  course  was  closed  too  early  for  th& 
interests  of  knowledge,  and  much  of  what  he  produced 
was  merely  occasional  and  fragmentary,  his  services  will 
be  found  to  have  been  greater  than  those  of  many  whof 
have  left  behind  them  more  systematic,  elaborate,  and 
pretentious  writings. 

One  of  the  most  original  of  recent  English  writers  oi\ 
political  economy  was  W.  Stanley  Jevons   (1835-1882), 
The  combination  which  he  presented  of  a  predilection  anc^ 
aptitude   for  exact  statistical    inquiry  with  sagacity'and 
ingenuity  in  the  interpretation  of  the  results  wais  sucTi  a^ 
might  remind  us  of  Petty.     He  tended  strongly  to  Ijrina 
economics  into  close  relation  with  physical  science.     He 
made  a   marked  impression'  on   the  public  mind  by  hia 
attempt  to  take  stock  of  our  resources  in  the  article  of 
coal.     His  idea  of  a  relation  between  the  recurrences  of 
commercial  crises  and  the  period  of  the  sun-spots   gave 
evidence  of  a  fertile  and  bold  scientific  imagination,  though 
he  cannot  be  said  to  have  succeeded  in  establishing  such 
a  relation.     He  was  author  of  an   excellent  treatise   on 
Money  and  the  Mechanism  of  Exchange  (1875),  and  of 
various  essays  on  currency  and  finance,  which  have  been 
collected  since  his  death,  and  contain  vigorous  discussions 
on  subjects  of  this  nature,  as  on  bimetallism  (with  a  de- 
cided tendency  in  favour  of  the  single  gold  standard),  and 
several  valuable  suggestions,  as  with  respect  to  the  most 
perfect  system  of  currency,  domestic  and  international,  and 
in  particular  the  extension  of  the  paper  currency  in  England 
to  smaller   amounts.      He    proposed   in   other   writings 
(collected  in  Methods  of  Social  Reform,  1883)  a  variety  of 
measures,  only  partly  economic  in  their  character,  directed 
especially  to  the  elevation  of  the  working  «lasses,  one  of 
the  most  important  being  in  relation  to  the  conditions  of 
the  labour  of  married  women  in  factories.     This  was  one 
of  several  instances  in  which  he  repudiated  the  laissez  faire 
principle,  which  indeed,  in  his  book  on  The  State  in  Relation 
to  Labour  (1882),  he  refuted  in  the  clearest  and  most  con- 
vincing way,  without  changing  the  position  he  had  alwaj's 
maintained  as  an  advocate  of  free  trade.     Towards  the  end 
of  his  career,  whicTi  was  prematurely  terminated,  he  was 
more  and  more  throwing  oflF  "  the  incubus  of  metaphysical 
ideas  and  expressions"  which  still  impeded  the  recognition 
or  confused  the  appreciation  of  social  facts.   '  He  was,  in  his 
own  words,  ever  more  distinctly  coming  to  the  conclusion 
"that  the  only  hope  of  attaining  a  true  system  of  economics 
is  to  fling  aside,  once  and  for  ever,  the  mazy  and  prepos- 
terous assumptions  of  the  Ricardian  school."     With  respect 
to  method,  though  he  declares  it  to  be  his  aim  to  "investi- 
gate inductively  the   intricate  phenomena   of  trade  and 
industry,"  his  views  had  not  perhaps  assumed  a  definitive 
shape.    The  editor  of  some  of  his  remains  declines  to  under- 
take the  determination  of  his  exact  position  with  respect  to 
the  historical  school.     The  fullest  indications  we  possess  on 
that  subject  are  to  be  found  in  a  lecture  of  1876,  On  tlie 
Future  of  Political  Economy.     He  saw  the  impoi-tance  and 
•necessity  in  economics  of  historical  investigation,  a  line  of 
study  which  he  himself  was  led  by  native  bent  to  prose- 
cute  in  some  directions.-    Bat  he  scarcely '  apprehended 
the  full  meaning  of  what  is  called  the  historical  method, 
which  he  erroneously  contrasted  with  the  "theoretical," 
and  apparently  supposed  to  be  concerned  with  verifying 
and  illustrating  certain  abstract  doctrines  resting  on  in° 
dependent^  bases.     Hence,  whilst  he  declared  himself  in 
favour  of  "  thorough  reform  and  reconstruction,"  he  sought 
to  preserve  the  a  piiori  mode  of  proceeding  alongside  of, 
and  concurrently  with,  the  historical.     Political  economy, 
in   fact,   he   thought  was   breaking  up-  and  falling  into 
several,  probably  into  many,  difi'erent  branches  of  inquiry, 
promment  amongst  which  would  be  the  "theory-"  as  it 


POLITICAL     EC0N0  3IY 


399 


had  descended  from  his  best  predecessors,  especially  those 
of  the  French  school,  whilst  another  '.vould  be  the  "  historical 
study,"  as  it  was  followed  in  England  by  Jones,  Rogers, 
and  others,  and  as  it  had  been  proclaimed  in  general 
princi[)le  by  his  contemporary  Clifle  Leslie.',  This  was  one 
of  those  eclectic  views  which  have  no  permanent  validity, 
but  are  u.spful  in  facilitating  a  transition.  The  two  methods 
I'witl  doubtless  for  a  time  coexist,  but  the  historical  will 
inevitably  supplant  its  rjvaL  What  Jevons  meant  as  the 
l" theory"  he  wished  to  treat  by  mathematical  methods 
(see  his  Theory  of  Political  Economy,  1871 ;  2nd  ed.,  -1879). 
Thi.s  project  had,  as  we  have  seen,  been  entertained  and 
partially  carried  into  effect  by  others  before  him,  though 
he  unduly  multiplies  the  number  of  such  earlier  essays 
when,  for  example,  he  mentions  Ricardo  and  J.  S.  Irlill  as 
■writing  mathematically  because  they  sometimes  illustrated 
the  meaning  of  their  propositions  by  dealing 'with  definite 
arithmetical  quantities.  Such  illustrations,  of  which  a 
specimen  is  supplied  by  Mill's  treatment  of  the  subject  of 
international  trade,  have  really  nothing  to  do  with  the  use 
of  mathematics  as  an  instrument  for  economic  research, 
or  even  for  the  co-ordination  of  economic  truths.  We  have 
already,  in  speaking  of  Cournot,  explained  why,  as  it  seems 
to  us,  the  application  of  mathematics  in  the  higher  sense 
to  economics  must  necessarily  fail,  and  we  do  not  think 
that  it  succeeded  in  Jeyons's  hands.  His  conception  of 
"final  utility"  is  ingeniou.s,  but  we  cannot  regard  it  as 
either  "positive"  or- fruitful.  He  offers  as  a  valuable 
result  of  mathematical  investigation  the  theorem  that  in 
every  case  of  exchange  the  quantity  of  each  of  the  articles 
concerned  multiplied  by  its  utility  is  the  same.  But 
what  is  the  unit  of  utility!  If  we  cannot  look  for  some- 
thing more  tangible — not  to  say  more  serviceable — than 
this,  there  is  not  much  encouragement  to  pursue  such  re 
searches,  which  will  in  fact  never  be  anything  more  than 
academic  playthings,  and  which  involve  the  very  real  evil 
of  restoring  the  metaphysical  entities  previously  discarded. 
The  reputation  of  Jevons  as  an  acute  and  vigorous  thinker, 
inspired  with  noble  popular  sympathies,  is  sufficiently 
established.  But  the  attempt  to  represent  him,  in  spite  of 
himself,  as  a  follower  and  continuator  of  Ricardo,  and  as 
one  of  the  principal  authors  of  the  development  of  economic 
theory  (meaning  by  "  theory  "  the  old  a  prion  doctrine) 
can  only  lower  him  in  estimation  by  placing  his  services 
on  grounds  which  will  not  bear  criticism.  His  name  will 
survive  in  connexion,  not  with  new  theoretical  con- 
structions, but  with  his  treatment  of  practical  problems, 
bis  fresh  and  lively  expo.sitions,  and,  as  we  have  shown,  his 
energetic  tendency  to  a  renovation  of  economic  method. 

Arnold  Toynbee  (1852-1883),  who  left  behind  him  a 
beautiful  memory,  filled  as  he  was  with  the  love  of  truth 
and  an  ardent  and  active  zeal  for  the  public  good,  was 
author  of  some  fragmentary  or  unfinished  pieces,  which  yet 
well  deserve  attention  both  for  their  intrinsic  merit  and 
aa  indicating  the  present  drift  of  all  the  highest  natures, 
especially  amongst  our  younger  men,  in  the  treatment  of 
economic  questions.  He  had  a  belief  in  the  organizing 
power  of  democracy  which  it  is  not  easy  to  share,  and  some 
strange  ideas  due  to  youthful  enthusiasm,  such  as,  for  ex- 
ample, that  Mazzini  is  "  the  true  teacher  of  our  age ;"  and 
he  fluctuates  considerably  in  his  opinion  of  the  Ricardian 
political  economy,  in  one  jdaco  declaring  it  to  bo  a  detected 
"intellectual  imposture,"  whilst  elsewhere,  apparently 
under  the  influence  of  Bagehot,  he  speaks  of  it  aa  having  been 
in  recent  times  "  only  corrected,  re-stated,  and  put  into  the 
proper  ralation  to  the  science  of  life,"  meaning  apparently, 
jby  this  last,  general  sociology.  He  saw,  however,  that  our 
great  help  in  the  future  must  come,  as  much  had  already 
come,  from  the  historical  method,  to  which  in  his  own 
researches    he    gave    preponderant   .weight.      Its     true 


character,  too,  he  understood  better  than  many  even  of 
those  who  have  commended  it;  for  he  perceived  that  it  not 
only  explains  the  action  of  special  local  or  temporary  con- 
ditions on  economic  phenomena,  but  seeks  by  comparing 
the  stages  of  social  development  in  different  countries  and 
times  to  "discover  laws  of  universal  application."  H,  as 
we  are  told,  there  exists  at  Oxford  a  rising  group  of  men 
who  occupy  a  position  in  regard  to  economic  thought  sub- 
stantially identical  with  that  of  Toynbee,  the  fact  is  one  of 
good  omen  for  the  future  of  the  science. 

It  is  no  part  of  our  plan  to  pass  judgment  on  the  works  of 
contemporary  English  authors, — a  judgment  which  could  not 
in  general  be  final,  ami  which  would  be  subject  to  the  imputa- 
tion of  bias  in  a  greater  degree  than  estimates  of  living  writers  in 
foreign  countries.  But,  for  the  information  of  the  student,  some 
opinions  may  be  expressed  which  scarcely  any  competent  person 
would  dispute.  The  best  brief  exposition  of  political  economy, 
substantially  in  accordance  with  JliU's  treatise,  is  to  be  found  iu 
Fawcett's  Manual  (6th  ed.,  1884).  But  those  who  admit  in  part  tlia 
claims  of  the  new  school  will  prefer  Mr  and  Mrs  Marshall's  Ecanomia 
of  IndVyStry  (2ded.,  1881).  Better,  in  some  respects,  than  either  is 
the  Political  Economy  oi  the  American  professor,  Francis  A.  Walker 
(1883),  whose  special  treatises  on  Money  and  on  the  Ifagei  Question 
may  also  be  recommended.  Other  meritorious  works  are  J.  E.  T. 
Rogers's  Manual  of  Political  Economy,  1870;  John  Macdonnell's 
Survey  of  Political  Economy,  1871  ;  and  John  L.  ShaiweM'a  System 
of  Political  Economy,  1877.  Prof.  W.  E.  Uearn'B  Plulology{lS64) 
contains  one  of  the  ablest  extant  treatments  of  the  subject  of  pro- 
duction. Mr  Gosclien's  is  the  best  work  on  the  foreign  exchanges 
(lOtli  ed. ,  1879).  Mr  Macleod,  though  his  gcncral'economie  scheme 
has  met  with  no  acceptance,  is  recognized  as;  supplying  much  that 
is  useful  on  the  subject  of  banking.  Prof.  Rogers's  Six  Centuries 
of  Work  and  Wages  (1884)  is  the  most  trustworthy  book  on  the 
economic  history  of  England  during  the  period  with  which  }ia 
deals.  W.  Cunningham's  Growth  of  English  Industry  and  Com- 
merce, 1882,  is  instructive  on  the  mercantile  system.  Dr  W. 
Neilson  Hancock  has  shown  in  a  multitude  of  papers  a  most  exten- 
sive and  accurate  knowledge  of  the  social  economy  of  Ireland. 

Ou  American  political  economy  the  reader  will  consult  with 
advantage  an  article  in  the  Fortnightly  Peview  for  September,  1880, 
by  Clifte  Leslie,  which  was  written  after  the  publication  of  hia 
collected  essays.  We  can  only  mention  some  of  the  best-known 
works  (besides  those  of  F.  A.  Walker)  produced  in  the  United 
States.  Amongst  them  arc  E.  Vcshine  SmUh's  Manual  of  Polilicat 
Economy,  1853 ;  Francis  Bowen's  American  -Political  Economy, 
1870  ;  Amasa  AValker's  Science  of  Wealth,  1867  ;  A.  L.  Perry's 
Elements  of  Political  Economy,  1866  (the  two  former  writers  are 
protectionist,  .tliS  two  latter  free-traders  ;  Perry  is  a  disciple  of 
Bnsfiat).  Tho  principal  works  on  American  economic  history 
are  those  of  A.  S.  Bolles,  entitled  Industrial  History  of  the  Vnitct 
States,  and  Financial  History  of  the  United  Stales,  1774-1789, 
1879. 

We  cannot  here  overlook  a  work  like  that  of  llr  Sidg«ivk 
(1883),  to  which  wo  have  already  rcfcrftsd  on  a  special  point. 
It  is  impossible  not  to  respect  and  admire  tho  conscientious  and 
penetrating  criticism  which  he  applies  to  the  a  priori  system  of 
economics  in  its  most  mature  form.  But  it  is  open  to  question 
whether  the  task  was  wisely  undertaken;  It  cannot  bo  permanently 
our  business  to  go  on  amending  and  limiting  tho  Ricardian 
doctrines,  and  asking  by  what  special  intcrpietations  of  phrases  or 
additional  qualifications  they  may  still  be  admitted  as  having  a 
certain  value.  Tho  time  for  a  new  construction  has  arrived  ; 
and  it  is  to  this,  or  at  least  to  tho  study  of  its  conditions,  that 
competent  thinkers  with  the  due  scientific  preparation  should 
now  devote  themselves.  It  is  to  be  feared  tnat  Mr  Sidgwick's 
treatise,  instead  of,  as  ho  hopes,  "  eliminating  unnecessary 
controversy,"  will  tend  to  revive  tho'  stiriles  contestations  and 
oiseiises  disputes  de  mots,  which  Comto  censured  in  tho  earlier 
economists.  It  is  interesting  to  observo  that  the  part  of  tho  work 
which  is,  and  has  been  recognized  as,  tho  most  valuable  is  that  in 
whiclT,  shaking  off  tho  fictions  of,  tho  old  school,  ho  examines 
independently  by  the  light  of  observation  and  analysis  tho  (juestion 
of  tho  industrial  action  of  Governments. 

Lot  us  briefly  consider  in  conclnsiun,  by  the  light  of  the 
preceding  historical  survey,  what  ajipcar  to  be  the  steps  in 
the  direction  of  a  renovation  of  economic  science  which  are 
now  at  once  practicable  and  urgent. 

I.  Economic  iuvestigation  has  hitherto  fallen  for  the 
most  part  .into  tho  hands  of  lawyers  and  men  of  letters, 
not  into  those  of  a  genuinely  scientific  class.  Nor  have 
its  cultivators  in  general  bad  that  sound  preparation  in  the 


400 


POLITICAL     ECONOIilY 


sciences  of  inorganic  and  vital  nature  which  is  necessary 
whether  as  supplying  bases  of  doctrine  or  as  furnishing 
lessons  of  method.  Their  education  has  usually  been  of  a 
metaphysical  kind.  Hence  political  economy  has  retained 
much  of  the  form  and  spirit  which  belonged  to  it  in  the  17th 
and  18th  centuries,  instead  of  advancing  with  the  times, 
and  assuming  a  truly  positive  character.  It  is  homogene- 
ous with  the  school  logic,  with  the  abstract  unhistorical 
jurisprudence,  with  the  a  priori  ethics  and  politics,  and 
other  similar  antiquated  systems  of  thought ;  and  it  will  be 
found  that  those  who  insist  most  strongly  on  the  mainten- 
ance of  its  traditional  character  have  derived  their  habitual 
mental  pabulum  from  those  regions  of  obsolete  speculation. 
We  can  thus  understand  the  attitude  of  true  men  of  science 
towards  this  branch  of  study,  which  they  regard  with  ill- 
disguised  contempt,  and  to  whose  professors  they  either  re- 
fuse or  very  reluctantly  concede  a  place  in  their  brotherhood. 

The  radical  vice  of  this  unscientific  character  of  political 
economy  seems  to  lie  in  the  too  individual  and  subjective 
aspect  under  which  it  has  been  treated.  Wealth  having 
been  conceived  as  what  satisfies  desires,  the  definitely 
determinable  qualities  possessed  by  some  objects  of  supply- 
ing physical  energy,  and  improving  the  physiological  con- 
stitution, are  left  out  of  account.  Everything  is  gauged  by 
the  standard  of  subjective  notions  and  desires.  All  desires 
are  viewed  as  equally  legitimate,  and  all  that  satisfies  pur 
desires  as  equally  wealth.  Value  being  regarded  as  the 
fesult  of  a  purely  mental  appreciation,  the  social  value  of 
things  in  the  sense  of  their  objective  utility,  which  is 
often  scientifically  measurable,  is  passed  over,  and  ratio  of 
Exchange  is  exclusively  considered.  The  truth  is,  that  at 
the  bottom  of  all  economic  investigation  must  lie  the  idea 
of  the  destination  of  wealth  for  the  maintenance  and 
Evolution  of  a  society.  And,  if  we  overlook  this,  our 
economics  will  become  a  play  of  logic  or  a  manual  for  Ahe 
market,  rather  than  a  contribution  to  social  science ;  whilst 
wearing  an  air  of  completeness,  it  will  be  in  truth  one-sided 
and  superficial.  Economic  science  is  something  far  larger 
than  the  catallactics  to  which  some  have  wished  to  reduce 
it.  A  special  merit  of  the  physiocrats  seems  to  have  lain  in 
their  vague  perception  of  the  close  relation  of  their  study 
to  that  of  external  nature;  and,  so  far,  we  must  recur  to 
their  point  of  view,  basing  our  economics  on  physics  and 
biology  as  developed  in  our  own  time.  Further,  the  science 
must  be  cleared  of  all  the  theologico-metaphysical  elements 
or  tendencies  which  still  encumber  and  deform  it.  Teleology 
and  optimism  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  jargon  of  "natural 
liberty  "  and  "  indefeasible  rights  "  on  the  other,  must  be 
finally  abandoned. 

Nor  can  "we  assume  as  universal  premises,  from  which 
economic  truths  can  be  deductively  derived,  the  con- 
venient formulas  which  have  been  habitually  employed, 
such  as  that  all  men  desire  wealth  and  dislike  exertion. 
These  vague  propositions,  which  profess  to  anticipate  and 
supersede  social  experience,  and  which  necessarily  intro- 
duce the  absolute  where  relativity  should  reign,  must  be 
laid  aside.  The  laws  of  wealth  (to  reverse  a  phrase  of 
Buckle's)  must  be  inferred  from  the  facts  of  wealth,  not 
from  the  postulate  of  human  selfishness.  We  must  bend 
purselves  to  a  serious  direct  study  of  the  way  in  which 
society  has  actually  addressed  itself  and  now  addresses 
itself  to  its  own  conservation  and  evolution  through  the 
supply  of  its  material  wants.  What  organs  it  has 
developed  for  this  purpose,  how  they  operate,  how  they  are 
affected  by  the  medium  in  which  they  act  and  by  the  co- 
existent organs  directed  to  other  ends,  how  in  their  turn 
they  react  on  those  latter,  how  they  and  their  functions 
are  progressively  modified  in  process  of  time — these 
problems,  whether  statical  or  dynamical,  aye  all  questions 
of  fact,  as  capable  of  being  studied  through  observation 


and  history  as  the  nature  and  progress  of  human  language 
or  religion,  or  any  other  group  of  social  phenomena.  Suth 
study  will  of  course  require  a  continued  "reflective) 
analysis  "  of  the  results  of  observation;  and,  whilst  eliminat. 
ing  all  premature  assumptions,  we  shall  use  ascertained 
truths  respecting  human  nature  as  guides  in  the  inquiry 
and  aids  towards  the  interpretation  of  facts.  And  the 
employment  of  deliberately  instituted  hypotheses  will  bo 
legitimate,  but  only  as  an  occasional  logical  artifice. 

II.  Economics  must  be  constantly  regarded  as  forming 
only  one  department  of  the  larger  science  of  sociology,  in 
vital  connexion  with  its  other  departments,  and  with  the 
moral  synthesis  which  is  the  crown  of  the  whole  intellectual 
system.  We  have  already  sufficiently  explained  the 
philosophical  grounds  for  the  conclusion  that  the  economic 
phenomena  of  society  cannot  be  isolated,  except  provision- 
ally, from  the  rest, — that,  in  fact,  all  the  primary  social 
elements  should  be  habitually  regarded  with  respect  to  their 
mutual  dependence  and  reciprocal  actions.  Especially  must 
we  keep  in  view  the  high  moral  issues  to  which  the  eco- 
nomic movement  is  subservient,  and  in  the  absence  of  which 
it  could  never  in  any  great  degree  attract  the  interest  or  fix 
the  attention  either  of  eminent  thinkers  or  of  right-minded 
men.  The  individual  point  of  view  will  have  to  be  sub- 
ordinated to  the  social ;  each  agent  will  have  to  be  regardad 
as  an  organ  of  the'  society  to  which  he  belongs  and  of  the 
larger  society  of  the  race.  The  consideration  of  interests, 
as  George  Eliot  has  well  said,  nmst  give  place  to  that  of 
functions.  The  old  doctrine  of  right,  which  lay.at  the  basis 
of  the  system  of  "natural  liberty,"  has  done  its  temporary 
work ;  a  doctrine  of  duty  will  have  to  be  substituted,  fixing 
on  positive  grounds  the  nature  of  the  social  co-operation  of 
each  class  and  each  member  of  the  community,  and  the  rules 
which  must  regulate  its  just  and  beneficial  exercise. 

Turning  now  from  the  question  of  the  theoretic  constitu- 
tion of  economics,  and  viewing  the  science  with  respect  to 
its  influence  on  public  policy,  we  need  not  at  the  present 
day  waste  words  in  repudiating  the  idea  that  "  non-govern.. 
ment "  in  the  economic  sphere  is  the  normal  order  of  things^ 
The  laissez  /aire  doctrine,  coming  down,  to  us  from  the 
system  of  natural  liberty,  was  long  the  great  watchword  of 
economic  orthodoxy,  and  it  had  a  special  acceptance  and 
persistence  in  England,  in  consequence  of  the  politicivl 
struggle  for  the  repeal  of  the  corn  laws,  which  made 
economic  discussion  in  this  country  turn  almost  altogethor 
on  free  trade — a  state  of  things  which  was  continued  ty 
the  effort  to  procure  a  modification  of  the  protective  poli(y 
of  foreign  nations.  But  it  has  now  for  some  time  lost  the 
sacrosanct  character  with  which  it  was  formerly  investcid. 
This  is  a  result  not  so  much  of  scientific  thought  as  of  the 
pressure  of  practical  needs — a  cause  which  has  modified 
the  successive  forms  of  economic  opinion  more  than  theorists 
are  willing  to  acknowledge.  Social  exigencies  will  force 
the  hands  of  statesmen,  whatever  their  attachment  to 
abstract  formulas  ;  and  politicians  have  prastically  turned 
their  backs  on  laissez  /aire.  The  state  has  with  excellent 
effect  prgceeded  a  considerable  way  in  the  direction  of 
controlling,  for  ends  of  social  equity  or  public  utility,  the 
operations  of  individual  interest.  The  economists  them- 
selves have  for  the  mqst  part  been  converted  on  the  question ; 
amongst  theorists  Mr  Herbert  Spencer  finds  himself 
almost  a  vox' damantis  in  deserto  in  protesting  against  what 
he  calls  the  "  new  slavery  "  of  Governmental  interference. 
He  will  protest  in  vain,  so  far  as  he  seeks  to  rehabilitate 
the  old  absolute  doctrine  of  the  economic  passivity  of  the 
state.  But  it  is  certainly  possible  that  even  by  virtue  of  the 
force  of  the  reaction  against  that  doctrine  there  may  be  an 
excessive  or  precipitate  tendency  in  the  opposite  direction. 
With  the  course  of  production  or  exchange  considered  in 
itself  there  will  probably  be  in  England  little  disposition 


P  O  L  — P  O  L 


401 


xo  meddle.  But  tlie  dangers  and  inconveniences  which 
Arise  from  the  unsettled  condition  of  the  world  of  labour  will 
doubtless  from  time  to  time  here,  as  elsewhere,  prompt  to 
premature  attempts  at  regulation.  Apart,  however,  from 
"the  removal  of  evils  which  threaten  the  public  peace,  and 
from  temporarjr  palliations  to  ease  off  social  pressure,  the 
right  policy  of  the  state  in  this  sphere  will  for  the  present 
be  one  of  abstention.  It  is  indeed  certain  that  industrial 
society  will  not  permanently  remain  without  a  systematic 
organization.  The  mere  conflict  of  private  interests  wiU 
never  produce  a  well-ordered  commonwealth  of  labour. 
Freiheit  ist  keine  L'Osung.  Freedom  is  for  society,  as  for 
the  individual,  the  necessary  condition  precedent  of  the 
solution  of  practical  problems,  ■  both  as  allowing  natural 
forces  to  'develop  themselves  and  as  exhibiting  their 
spontaneous  tendencies ;  but  it  is  not  in  itself  the  solution. 
Whilst,  however,  an  organization  of  the  industrial  world 
may  with  certainty  be  expected  to  arise  in  process  of  time, 
it  would  be  a  great  error  to  attempt  to  improvise  one. 
We  are  now  in  a  period  of  transition.  Our  ruling  powers 
have  still  an  equivocal  character ;  they  are  not  in  real 
harmony  with  industrial  life,  and  are  in  all  respects 
imperfectly  imbued  with  the  modern  spirit.  Besides,  the 
conditions  of  the  new  order  are  not  yet  suiEciently  under- 
stood. ^  The  institutions  of  the  future  must- be  founded  on 
Sentiments  and  habits,  and  these  must  be  the  slow  growth 
of  thought  and  experience.  The  solution,  indeed,  must 
be  at  all  times  largely  a  moral  one ;  it  is  the  spiritual  rather 
than  the  temporal  power  that  is  the  natural  agency  for 
redressing  or  mitigating  most  of  the  evils  associated  with 
industrial  life.^  In  fact,  if  there  is  a  tendency — and  we  may 
admit  that  such  a  tendency  is  real  or  imminent — to  push  the 
■state  towards  an  extension  of  the  normal  limits  of  its  action 
for  the  maintenance  of  social  equity,  this  is  doubtless  in  some 
measure  due  to  the  fact  that  the  growing  dissidence'  on 
religious  questions  in  the  most  advanced  communities  has 
•weakened  the  authority  of  the  churches,  and  deprived  their 
influence  of  social  universality.  What  is  now  most  urgent 
is  not  legislative  interference  on  any  large  scale  with  the 
industrial  relations,  but  the  formation,  in  both  the  higher 
and  lower  regions  of  the  industrial  world,  of  profound 
convictions  as  to  social  duties,  and  some  more  effective 
mode  than  at  present  exists  of  diffusing,  maintaining,  and 
applying  those  convictions.  This  is  a  subject  into  which  we 
cannot  enter  here.  But  it  may  at  least  be  said  that  the 
only  parties  in  contemporary  public  life  which  seem  rightly 
to  conceive  or  adequately  to  appreciate  the  necessities  of 
the  situation  are  those  that  aim,  on  the  one  hand,  at  the 
restoration  of  the  old  spiritual  power,  or,  on  the  other,  at 
tte  fDrraation  of  a  new  one.  And  this  leads  to  the  con- 
clusion that  there  is  one  sort  of  Governmental  interference 
which  the  advocates  of  laissez  fairc  have  not  always  dis- 
countenanced, and  which  yet,  more  than  any  other,  tends 
to  j-irevent  the  gradual  and  peaceful  development  of  a  now 
industrial  and  social  system, — namely,  tlio  interference 
with  spiritual  liberty  by  setting  up  oflicial  types  of 
philosophical  doctrine,  and  imposing  restrictions  on  the 
expression  and  discussion  of  opinions. 

It  will  be  seen  that  our  principal  corclusion  respecting 
economic  action  harmonizes  with  that  relating  to  the 
theoretic  study  of  economic  phenomena.     For,  as  we  held 


that  the  latter  could  not  be  successfully  pursued  except 
as  a  duly  subordinated  branch  of  the  wider  science  of 
sociology,  so  in  practical  human  affairs  we  believe  that  no 
partial  synthesis  is  possible,  but  that  an  economic  re- 
organization of  society  implies  a  universal  renovation, 
intellectual  and  moral  no  less  than  material.  The  indus- 
trial reformation  for  which  western  Europe  groans  and 
travails,  and  the  advent  of  which  is  indicated  by  so  many 
symptoms  (though  it  will  come  only  as  the  fruit  of  faith- 
ful and  sustained  effort),  will  be  no  isolated  fact,  but  will 
form  one  part  of  an  applied  art  of  life,  modifying  our 
whole  environment,  affecting  our  whole  culture,  and  re- 
gulating our  whole  conduct — in  a  word,  consciously 
directing  all  our  resources  to  the  conservation  and  evolu- 
tion of  humanity. 

The  reader  is  referred  for  fuller  infoi-mation  to  tlie  following 
works  on  the  history  of  political  economy,  all  of  which  have  been 
more  or  less,  and  some  very  largely,  used  in  the  prcp.uation  of  th^ 
foregoing  outline. 

General  Hisjories. — Hisloire  de  I'iconomie  rolilique  en  Europe 
dcpuis  les  aiicims  jusqiC  d  nos  jours,  by  JerOrae  Adolphe  Elanqui 
(1837-38)  ;  of  which  there  is  an  English  translation  by  Emily  J. 
Leonard  (1880).  Hisloire  de  Viconomie  Politique,  by  Alban  do 
Viileneuve-Bargemont  (Brussels,  1839  ;  Paris,  1841) ;  written  from 
the  Catholic  point  of  view.  ■  View  of  the  Progress  of  Political 
Economy  in  Europe  since  the  16tt  Century,  by  Travers  Twiss, 
D.C.L.  (1847).  Die  gcsihichtliche  Entwickclung  dcr  National- 
Oekonomik  und  ihrer  Lileratur,  by  Julius  Kautz  (2d  ed.  1860) ;  n 
valuable  work  marked  by  philosophical  breadth,  and  e.\hibiting 
the  results  of  extensive  research,  but  too  declamatory  in  style. 
Kriiischc  Gcschichte  dcr  NationaJoJconomie  und  der  Socialismus,  by 
Emile  Diihring  (1871  ;  3d  ed.  1879)  ;  characterized  by  its  author's 
usual  sagacity,  but  also  by  his  usual  perverseness  and  depreciation 
of  meritorious  writers  in  his  own  field.  Guida  alio  studio  dell' 
Economia  Politica,  by  Luigi  Cossa  (1876  and  187S  ;  Eng.  trans. 
1880).  Geschichle  der  Nationalokonomik,  by  H.  Eisenhart  (1881) ;  a 
vigorous  and  original  sketch.  And,  lastly,  a  brief  but  excellent 
history  by  H.  von  Scheel  in  the  Handbuch  dcr politischcn  Oekonomit 
(really  a  great  oncyclopas'dia  of  economic  knowledge  in  all  its 
extent  and  applications),  edited  by  Gustav  Schonberg  (188'2).  To 
these  histories  proper  must  be  added  The  Literature  of  Political 
Economy,  by  J.  E.  M'CuUoch  (1845),  a  book  which  might  with 
advantage  be  re-edited,  supplemented  where  imperfect,  and  con- 
tinued to  our  own  time.  Some  of  the  biographical  and  critical 
notices  by  Eugene  Daire  and  others  in  the  Collection  des  principavx 
£conomistes  will  also  bo  found  useful,  as  well  as  the  articles  in  tha 
Dictionnaire  de  l'£conmnie  Politique  of  Coquelin  and  Guillaumin 
(1852-53),  which  is  justly  described  by  Jevons  as  "on  the  whole 
the  best  work  of  reference  in  the  literature  of  the  science." 

Special  Histories. — Italy. — Storia  delta  Economia  Pubblica  m 
Italia,  ossia  Epilogo  critico  degti  Economisti  Italiani,  by  Count 
Giuseppe  Pecchio  (1829),  intended  as  an  appendix  to  -Baron 
Custodi's  collection  of  the  Scrittori  classici  Italiani  di  Economia 
Politica,  50  vols.,  comprisinf;  the  writings  of  Italian  economists 
from  1582  to  1804.  There  is  a  French  translation  of  Pecchio'* 
work  by  Leonard  Gnllois  (1830).  The  book  is  not  without  value, 
though  often  superficial  and  rhetorical. 

Spain. — Storia  della  Economia  Politica  in  Espaila  (1863),  by 
M.  Colmeiro  ;  rather  a  history  of  economy  than  of  economics — of 
policies  and  institutions  rather  than  of  theories  and  literary  works. 

Germany. — Gcschichte  dcr  Nalionalbkonomik  in  Deutschlar.d 
(1874),  by  Wilhelm  Roschor ;  a  vast  repertory  of  learning  on  its 
subject,  with  occasional  side-glances  at  other  economic  literatures. 
Die  ncuere  National-iikonomie  in  ihren  Hauptrichtungcn,  by 
Morit7,  Meyer  (3d  ed.,  1882)  ;  a  useful  handbook  dealing  almost 
exclusively  with  recent  German  speculation  and  policy. 

Enaland. — Zur  Geschichle  der  Englischcn  Volkswirthschaflalehre, 
by  W.  Roschor  (1851-52). 

The  reader  is  also  advised  to  consult  the  articles  of  tho  present 
work  which  relate  directly  to  tho  several  principjl  .writer*  oa 
political  ecoDomy.  (J.  K.  I. ) 


POLK,  jAsrES  Knox  (1795-1849),  eleventh  president 
of   the   United   States   of   America,'  was    of   Scoto-Irish 

'  Tho  neglect  of  this  consideration,  and  tho  consequent  undue 
exaltation  of  state  action,  which,  though  quite  legitimate,  i^  .iltogcthor 
insufficient,  appears  to  us  tlio  principal  danger  to  which  tho  con- 
temporary German  school  of  economists  is  exposed. 

19-lf> 


descent,  his  ancestors,  whoso  name  was  Pollok,  having 
emigrated  from  Ireland  in  the  \H\\  century.  He  was  Iho 
eldest  of  ten  children,  and  was  born  2d  November  1795  in 
Mecklenburg  county.  North  Carolina,  from  -which  his 
■father,  who  was  a  farmer,  removed  in  1806  to  the  valley 
of  tho  Duck  river,  Tennessee.     At  an  early _age  ha  was 


4U2 


P  0  L  —  P  O  L 


placed  in  a  mercliant's  office,  but  as  he  showed  a  disin- 
clination for  business  his  father  at  last  permitted  him  to 
begin  prepai'atory  studies  for  the  university.  In  1815  he 
entered  the  university  of  North  Carolina,  where  in  1818 
he  graduated  with  the  highest  honours.  Called  to  the  bar 
in  1820,  he-  speedily  made  for  himself  a  high  reputation, 
and  in  1823  he  entered  the  State  legislature.  In  August 
1825  he  was  chosen  to  represent  his  district  in  Congress, 
to  which  he  was  re-elected  every  succeeding  two  years 
until  1839.  As  a  strong  supporter  of  Democratic  opinions 
he  identified  himself  with  every  important  discussion,  and, 
though  he  was  not  a  brilliant  speaker,  his  solid  abilities, 
extraordinary  energy,  and  indomitable  will  soon  gave  hira 
a  place  in  the  front  rank  of  politicians.  In  1835  he  was 
chosen  speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  to  which 
he  was  re-elected  in  1837,  and  in  1839  he  was  elected 
governor  of  Tennessee.  In  1844  he  w-as  the  Democrat 
candidate  for  the  presidentship,,  and  was  chosen  over  Clay 
by  a  majority  of  sixty-five  electoral  votes.  The  election  in 
great  measure  turned  on  the  annexation  of  Texas,  which 
was  effected  before  his  inauguration.  One  of  the  earliest 
questions  with  which  his  administration  had  to  deal  was 
the  boundary  of  Oregon,  which,  although  he  had  previously 
declared  the  title  of  tht  United  States  to  Oregon  to  be 
"clear  and  undisputed,"  was  finally  fixed  at  the  parallel  of 
49°  instead  of  54°  40.'  Following  the  annexation  of  Texas 
came  the  Mexican  war,  resulting  in  the  treaty  of  Guadalupe 
Hidalgo,  2d  February  1848,  by  which  New  Jlexico  and 
California  were  ceded  to  the  United  States.  Other  im- 
portant measures  of  his  administration  were  the  admission 
of  Iowa  and  Wisconsin  to  the  Union,  the  adoption  of  a 
low  tariff  in  1846,  the  organization  of  the  department  of 
the  interior,  and  the  adoption  of  the  method  of  collecting 
Government  revenues  by  specie  without  the  aid  of  the 
banks.  Polk  retired  from  office  4th  March  1849,  and  died 
in  Nashville,  15th  June  of  the  same  year. 

Life  of  the  Hon.  James  Kiiox  Polk,  with  a  Compendium  of  his 
Speeches,  1844  ;  Cliase,  History  of  the  Polk  Administration,  1850. 

POLLACK  (Gadus  pollachius),  a  species  of  cod-fish, 
abundant  on  rocky  coasts  of  northern  'Europe,  and  extend- 
ing as  far  south' as  the  western  parts  of  the  Mediterranean, 
where,  however,  it  is  much  scarcer  and  does  not  attain  to 
the  same  size  as  in  its  real  northern  home.  In  Scotland 
and  some  parts  of  Ireland  it  is  called  Lythe.  It  is  dis- 
tinguished from  other  species  of  the  genus  Gadus  by  its 
long  pointed  snout,  which  is  twice  as  long  as  the  eye,  with 
projecting  lower  jaw,  and  without  a  barbel  at  the  chin. 
The  three  dorsal  fins  are  composed  of  respectively  12,  18 
or  20,  and  from  17  to  19  rays,  and  the  two  anal  fins  of 
31  and  19  or  20.  A  black  spot  .above  the  base  of  the 
pectoral  fin  is  another  distinguishing  mark.  Although 
pollack  are  well-flavoured  fish,  and  smaller  individuals 
(from  12  to  16  inches)  excellent  eating,  they  do  not  form 
any  considerable  article  of  trade,  and  are  not  preserved, 
the  majority  being  consumed  by  the  captors.  Specimens 
of  twelve  pounds  are  common,  but  the  species  is  said  tc 
attain  24  pounds  in  weight. 

POLLAN  [Coregonus  pollan),  a  species  of  the  Salmonoid 
genus  Coregonus  which  has  been  found  in  the  large  and 
deep  loughs  of  Ireland  only.  A  full  account  of  the  fish 
by  its  first  describer,  W.  Thompson,  may  be  found  in  his 
Natural  History  of  Ireland,  vol.  iv.  p.  16S. 

■POLLIO,  Caius  Asinius  (76  B.C.-4  a.d.),  a  Roman 
orator,  poet,  and  historian,  who  played  a  conspicuous  part 
in  the  troubled  history  of  his  time,  was  born  in  76  B.C. 
In  his  twenty-second  year  (54  B.C.)  he  impeached  unsuccess- 
fully C.  Cato,  who  in  his  tribunate  (56)  had  acted  as  the 
tool  of  the  triumvirs.  In  the  civil  war  between  C^sar  and 
Pompey,  Pollio  sided  with  Cajsar,  and  after  the  successful 
campaigns  against   the  remnants  of  the  Pompeian  party 


in  Africa  and  Spain  he  was  raised  to  the  prsetorship,  and 
received  the  command  of  the  war  in  Spain  against  Septus 
Pompeius.  At  the  time  of  Cjesar's  assassination  (March 
1 5,  44)  Pollio  was  in  Spain.  He  was  defeated  by  Sextus 
Pompeius  and  fled  for  his  life.  But  by  Lepidus's  influence 
a  peace  was  patched  up  and  Sextus  left-  Spain,  while  Pollio 
remained  with  three  legions  under  him.  During  the  war 
between  Mark  Antony  and  the  senate,  Pollio,  in  a  letter 
to  Cicero,  declared  himself  on  the  side  of  the  senate,  but 
fou'id  pretexts  for  waiting  to  cast  in  his  lot  with  the 
victor.  In  fact  no  sooner  had  Octavian  become  reconciled 
to  Antony  and  Lepidus,  and  compelled  the  senate  to 
rescind  the  decrees  against  them,  than  Pollio  joined 
Lepidus  with  two  legions.  Antony,  Lepidus,  and  Octavian 
now  formed  the  triumvirate  (43),  and  Pollio  was  nominated 
consul  for  the  year  40  b.c.  Meantime  he  was  entrusted 
by  Antony  with  the  administration  of  Gallia  Trans- 
padana,  and  in  superintending  the  distribution,  of  the 
Mantuan  territory  amongst  the  veterans  he  used  his 
influence  to  save  from  confiscation  the  property  of  the 
poet  Virgil.  When  L.  Antonius,  brother  of  Mark  Antony, 
revolted  against  Octavian  and  was  besieged  in  Perusia 
(41-40),  he  entreated  Pollio  to  hasten  to  his  relief.  Pollio 
advanced  hesitatingly,  but  was  fain  to  take  refuge  in 
Ravenna  when  Octavian  marched  to  meet  him.  After  the 
fall  of  Perusia  Octavian  and  Antony  were  reconciled  for  a 
time  by  the  peace  of  Brundisium,  which  Pollio  helped  to 
negotiate.  He  was  now  consul  (40) ;  Virgil's  famous 
fourth  eclogue  is  addressed  to  him  in  his  consulship.  Next 
year  Pollio  was  sent  by  Antony  against  the  Parthini,  an 
Illyrian  people  who  adhered  to  Brutus.  He  was  success- 
ful, took  the  to\\'n  of  Salonaj,  and  celebrated  a  triumph  in 
the  same  year.  The  eighth  eclogue  of  Virgil  is  addressed  to 
Pollio  while  engaged  in  this  campaign.  From  the  spoils  of 
the  war  he  constructed  the  first  public  library  at  Rome.i 
Thenceforward  Pollio  w  ithdrew  from  active  life  and  devoted 
himself  to  literature.  Wlien  Octavian  invited  him  to  join 
in  the  war  against  Antony  which  ended  in  the  battle  of 
Actium,  Pollio  declined  on  the  score  of  his  former  friend- 
ship with  Antony.  He  seems  to  have  maintained  to  a 
certain  degree  an  attitude  of  independence  if  not  of  opposi- 
tion towards  Augustus.  He  lived  to  a  green  old  age,  and 
died  in  his  villa  at  Tusculum  in  4  a.d. 

Pollio  was  a  distinguished  orator ;  his  speeches  showed  ingenuity 
and  care,  but  were  marred  by  an  aifected  archaism  which  rendered 
them  somewhat  crabbed  and  hai-sh.  He  wrote  tragedies  also,  which 
A'irgil  declared  to  bo  worthy  of  Sophocles,  and  a  prose  history  of 
the  civil  wars  of  his  time  from  the  first  triumvirate  (60  B.C.)  down 

'  The  library  was  in  the  Atrium  Libertatis,  which  was  also  erected 
by  Pollio  (Isidor.,  OHg.,  vi.  5  ;  Sueton.^  Aug.,  29  ;  Ovid,  Trisi:'  iii. 
1,  71).  The  situation  of  this  Atrium  is  uncertain.  There  was  an 
older  Atrium  Libertatis  near  the  Forum  (Clc.  Ad  Alt.,  iv.  16,  8),  but 
we  are  precluded  from  identifying  it  with  that  of  Pollio  by  the  lan- 
guage of  Isidore  and  Suetonius,  who  imply  that  Pollio  built  a  new 
Atrium.  Perhaps  PoUio's'  Atrium  wa3  connected  with  the  temple  of 
Liberty  on  the  Aventine  (Livy,  xxiv.  16);  this  would  be  strongly 
confirmed  by  Martial  (.xii.  3,  6),  if  we  could  be  sure  that  his  ''  domus 
alta  Remi "  referred  to  the  Aventine.  Mr  A.  W.  Verrall  (Studies  in 
Moraee,  p.  113)  has  made  it  •probable  that  Dion  Cassius  (xlix.  43) 
confused  the  Pollian  with  the  Octavian  library,  and  that  accordingly 
33  B.C.  is  the  date  of  the  dedication  of  the  former  library  and  not  of 
the  latter,  which  we  know  from  Plutarch  {Marc.,  30)  to  have  been 
dedicated  not  earlier  than  23  B.  c. ,  the  date  of  Marcellus's  death.  But 
Mr  Verrall's  conjecture' that  '*in  the  great  reconstructions  of  Augustus  " 
the  Pollian  library  was  absorbed  in  the  Octavian  seems  negatived  by 
Ovid,  Trist,  iii.  1,  69-72,  where  "atria"  certainly  refers  to  the 
Pollian  library,  and  "templa — vicino  juncta  theatro,"  probably  refers 
to  the  Octavian  hbrary,  which  was  in  the  Porticus  Octaviae,  adjoining 
the  twin  temples  of  Jupiter  and  J-uno,  and  close  to  the  theatre  of 
Marcellus  (see  Bam,  Rome  and  the  Campagna,  p.  306  sg.).  Pliny 
(iV.  B.,  iixvi.  24)  also  refers  to  "  PoUionis  Asini  monumenta"  aa 
being  distinct  from  the  Porticus  Octavise.  Moreover,  there  is  no 
evidence  that  the  two  libraries  were  even  near  each  o':her  ;  if  the 
Polli.in  was  on  the  Aventine,  they  were  separated  by  nearly  the  whole 
breadth  of  the  city. 


P  0  L  — r  0  L 


403 


to  tJio  dcatli  of  Cicero  (43  B.C.)  or  pcrlmps  to  the  battle  of  riiilippi 
{ 12  B.C.)  or  even  later.  This  history,  in  the  composition  of  wliich 
roilio  received  assistance  from  the  grammarian  Ateius,  was  used  as 
an  anthority  by  Phitarch  and  Appian.  As  n  literary  critic  PoUio 
was  very  severe.  He  censured  Sallust  and  Cicero  and  professed  to 
detect  in  Livy's  stylo  certain  provincialisms  of  his  native  Padua  ; 
he  attacked  the  C(i)/i»ifHMri«  of  Julius  Cicsar,  accusing  their  autlior 
of  carelessness  and  credulity  if  uotofdcliboratc  falsification.  Horace 
addressed  one  of  his  odes  (ii.  1)  to  Pollio  on  the  subject  of  his 
history.  Pollio  was  the  first  Roman  author  who  recited  his  writings 
to  an  audience  of  his  friends,  a  practice  which  afterwards  grew  very 
common  at  Kome.  All  his  writings  are  lost  except  a  few  Iragments 
of  his  speeches  (collected  by  Meyer,  Omt.  Rom.  Frag.),  and  three 
letters  addressed  to  Cicero  (Cic,  Ad  Fam.,  x.  31-33). 

POLLNITZ,  Kael  Ltjdwig,  Feeiherr  von  (1692- 
17<T)),  known  as  a  wTiter  of  memoirs,  ■was  born  on  the 
25tli  February  1692.  His  father,  G.  Bernhard  von 
Piillnitz,  Tvas  a  major-general  and  minister  of  state  in  the 
electorate, of  Brandenburg.  Pollnitz  was  aman  of  restless 
and  adventurous  disposition,  and  after  squandering  his 
fortune  travelled  from  court  to  court,  his  pleasant  manners 
generally  securing  for  him  a  kind  reception.  He  was, 
made  reader  to  Frederick  the  -Great,  and  afterwards  the 
director  of  a  theatre  ;  but  before  accepting  these  appoint- 
ments he  had  served  as  a  soldier  in  Austria,  the  States  of 
the  Church,  and  Spain.  '  He  was  repeatedly  converted  to 
Catholicism  and  re-converted  to  the  Reformed  faith  j  bvt 
be  died  a  Catholic  on  the  23rd  June  1775. 

The  most  famous  work  attributed  to  him  is  La  Saxc  galanle, 
which  contains  an  account  of  the  private  life  of  Augustus  of  Saxony  ; 
but  it  has  been  doubted  whether  ho  was  the  author  of  this  book. 
His  coutemporaries  expressed  much  admiration  for  the  lively  style 
of  his  Lctlreset  mimoircs,  avcc  nouvcmix  mimoircs  dc  sa  vie  et  la 
relation  de  ses premiers  voyages,  and  general  interest  was  excited  by 
his  £tat  alrige  de  la  eour  de  Saxe  soiis'^j  rlgne  d'Avgusie  III.,  roi 
de  Polognc.  He  was  probably  the  author  of  the  IHstoire  secrete  de 
.  la  duchesse  d' llanovre,  ipouse  de  George  I.,  -roi  de  la  Grande- 
Bretagne.  After  his  death  Brunn  issued  Memoircs  dc  Pollnitz  pour 
servir  d,  I'histoire  dcs  qnnlre  derniers  souverains  de  la  maison  dc 
Brandebourg,  royale  de  Frussc. 

POLLOK,  Egbert  (1798-1827),  was  the  author  of 
The  Course  of  Time,  a  poem  that  has  passed  through  many 
editions,  and  is  still  a  favourite  in  serious  households  in 
Scotland.  The  son  of  a  small  farmer,  he  was  born  in  1798 
at  Moorhouse,  in  the  parish  of  Eaglesham  in  llenfrcwshire, 
was  originally  de.stined  for  the  plough,  but  trained  himself 
for  the  university,  took  his  degree  at  Glasgow,  and 
studied  for  the  ministry  of  the  United  Secession  Church. 
Along  with  the  very  general  ambition  to  wag  his  head  in 
a  pulpit  he  had  a  specific  literary  ambition  ;  he  published 
Tales  of  tlie  Coveimnterx  while  he  was  a  divinity  student, 
and  planned  and  completed  a  poem  on  the  spirituia,l  life 
and  destiny  of  man.  This  was  the  Course  of  Time.  The 
unfortunate  poet  died  within  six  months  of  its  publica- 
tion, at  tho  age  of  twenty-nine.  Excessive  study  had 
quickened  a  tendency  to  consumption.  Tho  poem  was 
published  in  March  1827,  nnd  at  once  became  popular. 
It  is  written  in  blank  verse,  in  ten  books,  in  the  poetic 
diction  of  tho  18th  century,  but  with  abundance  of 
enthusiasm,  impassioned  elevation  of  feeling,  and  copious 
force  of  words  and  images.  The  poet's  view  of  life  was 
strongly  Calvinistic. 

POLLOKSHAWS,  a  burgh  of  barony  in  Eenfrewshire, 
Scotland,  situated  near  tho  White  Cart,  on  tho  Glasgow 
and  Kilmarnock  Piaihvay,  11  miles  south  by  west  of  Glas- 
gow, of  which  it  is  now  reckoned  n  suburb,  connected  by 
tramway.  Tho  streets  are  irregular,  but  contain  many 
good  houses  and  shops.  The  principal  buildings  are  tho 
town-hall,  the  mechanics'  institute,  and  the  public  library 
and  reading-room.  Tho  staple  industries  are  cotton-spin- 
ning, hand  and  power-loom  weaving  of  silk  and  cotton 
fabrics,  dyeing,  bleaching,  and  calico-printing.  There  are 
also  paper  works,  potteries,  and  large  engineering  works. 
The  town  was  created  a  burgh  of  barony  by  royal 
charter  in  1813,  and  is  governed  by  a  provost,  a  baillic, 


and  six  councillors.  Population  in  1871,  8921  :  in  1881, 
9363. 

POLLUX.     See  Castor  ksd  Pollux. 

POLLUX,  JoLius,  of  Naucratis  in  Egypt,  a  Greek 
sophist  of  the  2d  century.  His  education  was  begun  by 
his  father,  a  man  of  literary  culture,  and  was  continued 
by  one  Hadrian,  but  he  is  said  neither  to  have  attained  to 
the  excellencies  nor  fallen  into  the  defects  of  his  master. 
He  taught  at  Athens,  where,  according  to  Philostratus, 
he  was  appointed  to  the  professorship  by  the  emperor 
Comraodus  on  account  of  his  melodious  voice.  He  died 
at  the  age  of  fifty-eight,  leaving  a  son  behind  him.  Suidas 
gives  a  list  of  his  rhetorical  works,  none  of  which  have 
survived.  Philostratus  {Vit.  Soph.,  ii.  12)  recognizes  his 
natural  abilities,  but  speaks  of  his  rhetoric  in  very 
moderate  terms.  He  was  ridiculed  by  Athenodorus,  a 
contemporary  teacher  at  Athens.  It  is  a  disputed  point 
whether  or  not  he  is  the  butt  of  Lucian's  scathing  satire 
in  the  Lexiphanes  and  Teacher  of  Rhetoric.  In  the  Teacher 
of  Rhetoric  Lucian  lashes  a  vile  and  ignorant  person  who 
gains  a  reputation  as  an  orator  by  sheer  effrontery ;  tho 
application  of  this — probably  grossly  exaggerated — portrait 
to  Pollux  derives  some  colour  from  the  remark  of 
Philostratus  that  the  speeches  of  Pollux  were  more 
remarkable  for  boldness  than  •  art.  The  Lexiphanes,  a 
satire  upon  the  use  of  obscure  and  obsolete  words,  may 
conceivably  have  been  directed  against  Pollux  as  the 
author  of  the  Onomastxcon,  This  work,  which  we  still 
possess,  is  a  Greek  dictionary  in  ten  books  dedicated  to 
Commodus,  and  arranged  not  alphabetically  but  according 
to  subject-matter.  Though  mainly  a  dictionary  of  synonyms 
and  phrases,  it  supplies  mucrh  rare  and  valuable  information 
on  many  points  of  classical  antiquity.  It  also  contains 
numerous  fragments  of  writers  now  lost. 

The  first  book  treats  of  the  gods  and  their  worship,  kings,  speed 
and  slowness,  .dyeing,  traders  and  artisans,  fertility  and  .barren- 
ness, times  and  seasons,  houses,  ships,  war,  horae?,  agriculture, 
tlio  parts  of  the  plough  and  the  waggon,  bees.  Book  ii.  treats 
of  the  ages  and  names  of  man.  the  parts  of  his  body,  his  mind 
and  soul,  &c. ;  book  iii.  of  kinship,  marriage,  citizenship,  friend- 
ship, love,  the  relation  of  master  and  slave,  mines,  journeying, 
livers,  health,  sickness,  wealth,  poverty,  ic. ;  book  iv.  of  tho 
sciences  and  arts  ;  book  v.  of  the  chase,  animals,  compound  words, 
lovo  and  hate,  blame,  fair  greetings,  inscriptions,  tc. ;  book  vi. 
of  feasts,  wine,  food,  the  talkative  man,  tho  flatterer,  the  passionate 
man,  crimes,  words  compounded  with  i/io,  aw,  &c.,  gifts,  laughter 
and  weeping,  &c. ;  book  vii.  of  tnades  ;  book  viii.  of  law  and  justice, 
magistrates,  popular  assemblies.  Arc. ;  book  ix.  of  cities,  coins, 
games,  synonyms  of  likeness  and  unlikencss,  &c.,  compounds  in 
fv  ;  book  X.  of  vessels,  instruments,  and  tools.  The  chief  editions 
of  Pollux's  Onomdsticon  are  those  of  Aldus  (Venice,  1502);  J.  H. 
Loderlin  and  Tib.  Henisterhuis.  (Amsterdam,  1706)  ;  W.  Dindoii 
(Leipsic,  1824),  containing  tho  notes  of  previous  commentators; 
jm.  liekkor  (Berlin,  1846),  containing  the  Greek  text  only. 

POLO.  This' game,  which  is  a  species  of  "  hockey  on 
horseback,"  is  of  Eastern  origin,  and  seems  to  have  been  a 
favourite  pastime  in  Persia,  Tartary,  and  the  frontiers  of 
India  from  prehistoric  times.  ■  Every  district  has  a  differ- 
ent name  for  the  game,  and  the  rules  tinder  which  it  is 
played,  although,  substantially  identical,  vary  considerably 
on  minor  points.  Thus  in  Little  Tibet,  Ladakh,  and  tho 
adjacent  districts  tho  ground  used  is  in  tho  form  of  a 
parallelogram  some  hundred  yards  long  with  a  goal  at 
each  end  about  00  foot  wide.  Amongst  tho  ^lanipuris, 
a  Bcmi-independcnt  tribo  on  tho  i^orth-east  frontier  of 
India,  by  whom  the  game  ia  known  as  "  kunjai,"  the 
ground  is  obout  120  yards  by  50  yards  and  tho  whole  of 
each  end  forms  a  goa*,'  Jn  other  places  tho  goals  aro 
about  400  yards  apart,  i/nd  tho  ground  is  120  yards  wido 
at  each  end,  increasing  in  width  towards  the  centre. 

In  some  of  the  early  matches  in  the  United  Kingdom 
the  ground  was  about  100  yard.s  long  and  200  yards  wido, 
the  width  of  tho  goal  being  from  30  to  35  yards.  Under 
the  present  rules  of  the  Huriingham  Club,  which  .is  now 


404 


P  0  L  — P  0  L 


the  principal  authority  on  the  game,  it  is  provided  that 
the  goals  shall  be  "  not  less  than  250  yards  apart  and  that 
each  goal  shall  be  8  yards  wide."  The  English  name  of 
the  game  is  perhaps  derived  from  "pulu,"  which  is  the 
Tibetan  for  a  ball,  and  the  pastime  itself  reached  India 
from  Persia  through  Afghanistan.  It  speedily  gained 
favour  with  the  officers  of  British  cavalry  regiments 
quartered  in  India,  and  was  introduced  into  the  United 
Kingdom  in  1871  by  the  10th  Hussars.  As  far  as  can  be 
ascertained  the  first  match  played  on  English  soil  took 
place  at  Aldershot  in  the  spring  of  that  year.  This,  how- 
ever, is  not  absolutely  certain,  as  no  records  seem  to  have 
been  preserved  of  the  early  contests. 

Under  the  rules  of  the  game  as  now  played  the  opposing 
parties  may  consist  of  from  three  to  six  players  a  side,  the 
number  in  all  matches  for  cups  or  prizes  being  limited  to 
four.  Each  of  the  players  is  mounted  on  a  pony  which 
must  not  exceed  fourteen  hands  and  which  must  be  free 
from  any  vice.  As  the  description  of  the  game  as 
"hockey  on  horseback"  would  imply,  the  object  of  the 
pastime  is  to  force  a  ball  by  means  of  a  stick,  with  which 
each  player  is  furnished,  through  the  goal  of  the  opposing 
side.  The  size  of  the  ball  is  3  inches  in  diameter,  and 
the  sticks  are  4  feet  long  with  a  cross  piece  at  one  end  for 
the  purpose  of  striking  the  ball.  At  the  commencement 
of  a  game-  each  side  takes  up  its  position  behind  the  goal 
posts.  A  player  on  each  side  is  appointed  as  goal-keeper. 
On  a  flag  being  dropped  to  notify  the  commencement 
of  the  game,  the  other  players  gallop  towards  the  centre  of 
the  ground  at  full  speed,  their  object  being  to  reach  the 
ball  first  and  drive  it  in  the  direction  of  the  opposite  goal. 
When  a  ball  is  hit  out  of  bounds  it  is  thrown  into  play 
again  by  one  of  the  umpires,  of  whom  there  is  one  ap- 
pointed for  each  side  before  the  commencement  of  a  match. 
When  a  ball  is  hit  beyond  the  goal  without  passing  through 
it  the  side  defending  goal  is  entitled  to  a  "  hit  off,"  which 
must  be  made  from  the  goal  line.  It  is  allowable  in  the 
course  of  play  to  impede  an  adversary  and  hinder  his 
stroke  by  hooking  his  stick,  but  this  must  not  be  done 
either  under  or  over  his  pony.  Whilst  it  is  permissible 
for  a  player  to  interpose  his  pony  before  his  antagonist  so 
as  to  prevent  the  latter  reaching  the  ball,  it  is  expressly 
forbidden  to  cross  another  player  in  possession  of  the  ball 
except  at  such  a  distance  as  to  avoid  all  possibility  of 
collision.  Should  a  player  break  his  stick  or  have  it 
broken  he  must  ride  to  the  appointed  place  where  the 
sticks  are  kept  and  take  one,  and  on  no  account  is  one  to 
be  brought  to  him.  If  he  drops  his  stick  he  must  dis- 
mount and  pick  it  up,  and  is  not  allowed  to  hit  the  ball 
whilst  dismounted.  If  a  player  is  in  front  of  a  player  of 
his  own  side  who  hits  the  ball,  and  has  not  two — or  in 
case  of  matches  of  four  a  side,  one — of  the  opposing  side 
between  him  and  the  hostile  goal,  and  has  not  come  through 
the  "bully,"  he  is  "oS  side."  He  does  not  then. come 
"  on  his  side  "  until  the  ball  has  been  hit  or  hit  at  by  the 
opposing  side,  or  until  the  player  on  his  own  ^ide  who 
made  the  hit  passes  him.  As  long  as  he  is  "  ofi  side  "  he 
may,  not  in  any  way  impede  a  player  of  the  opposite  side. 
In  all  matches  the  duration  of  play  is  1  hour  10  minutes, 
with  an  interval  of   5  minutes  after   each   20   minutes 

play.  _ 

Owing  to  the  expense  of  maintainmg  a  specially  trained 
stud  of  ponies  and  a  prepared  ground  for  the  pastime,  the 
pursuit  of  the  game  of  polo  has  always  been  confined  to 
the  wealthier  classes  in  England.  Its  chief  supporters  are 
the  younger  members  of  the  aristocracy  and  the  ofiicers  of 
British  cavalry  regiments. 

POLO,  Marco  (c.  1254-1324),  the  Venetian,  the  most 
famous  perhaps  of  all  travellers.  His  history  needs  to  be 
introduced  by  some  account  of  the  preceding  generation  of 


his  family,  and  of  the  state  of  the  world  which  rendered 
their  and  his  extensive  travels  possible. 

Under  China,  in  the  introductory  portion  (vol.  -v.  627 
sq.)  we  have  briefly  indicated  the  circumstances  which  in 
the  last  half  of  the  13th  century  and  first  half  of  the 
14th  threw  Asia  open  to  Western  travellers  to  a  degree 
unknown  before  and  since.  We  first  hear  of  the  Polo 
family  in  the  year  1260.  The  vast  wave  of  Tartar  con- 
quest, set  in  motion  by  Jenghiz  Khan,  and  continuing  to 
advance  for  some  years  after  his  death,  had  swept  away  all 
political  barriers  from  the  China  Sea  to  the  western 
frontier  of  Russia.  This  huge  extent  of  empire  continued 
for  a  time  to  own  a  supreme  chief  in  the  Great  Khan,  the 
head  of  the' house  of  Jenghiz,  whose  headquarters  were 
in  the  Mongolian  steppe.  Practically  indeed  the  empire 
soon  began  to  split  up  into  several  great  monarchies  under 
the  descendants  of  his  four  sons,  in  order  of  age  Juji, 
Jagatai,  Oghotai,  and  Tuli.  At  the  date  we  have  named 
the  supreme  khanate  had  recently  devolved  upon  Kublai, 
son  of  Tuli,  and,  after  the  founder,  the  ablest  of  his 
house.  In  -  the  beginning  of  his  reign  Kublai  carried 
out  the  transfer  of  the  seat  of  rule  from  Karakorum  on  the 
northern  verge  of  the  Mongolian  plains  to  the  populous 
and  civilized  regions  that  had  been  conquered  in  the 
further  East,  a  transfer  which  eventually  converted  the 
Tartar  khan  into  a  Chinese  emperor. 

Barka,  the  son  of  Juji,  and  the  first  of  the  house  of 
Jenghiz  to  turn  Moslem,  reigned  on  the  steppes  of  the 
Volga,  where  a  standing  camp,  which  eventually  became  a 
great  city  under  the  name  of  Sarai,  had  been  established 
by  his  brother  and  predecessor  Batu. 

Hulagvi,  a  younger  brother  of  Kublai,  after  taking 
Baghdad,  and  putting  the  caliph  Mosta'sim  to  death,  had 
become  practically  independent  ruler  of  Persia,  Babylonia, 
Mesopotamia,  and  Armenia, — though  he  and  his  sons  and 
his  sons'  sons  continued  to  the  end  of  the  century  to  stamp 
the  name  of  the  Great  Khan  upon  their  coins,  and  to  use 
the  Chinese  seal  of  state  which  he  conferred. 

The  house  of  Jagatai  had  settled  upon  the  pastures 
of  the  Hi  and  in  the  valley  of  the  Jaxartes,  and  ruled  also 
the  populous  cities  of  Samarkand  and  Bokhara. 

Kaidu,  grandson  of  Oghotai,  who  had  been  the  immedi- 
ate successor  of  Jenghiz,  refused  to  recognize  the  transfer 
of  supreme  authority  to  his  cousins,  and  through  the  long 
life  of  Kublai  was  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  the  latter.  His 
immediate  authority  was  exercised  in  what  we  should  now 
call  Chinese  Turkestan  and  Southern  Central  Siberia. 

Northern  China  had  been  conquered  by  Jenghiz  and 
his  successor^  from  the  Tartar  dynasty  called  Kin  or 
"Golden,"  who  had  held  it  about  a  century.  But 
southern  China  still  remained  in  the  hands  of  the  native 
dynasty,  whose  capital  was  the  great  city  now.  known  as 
Hang-chow-foo.  Their  dominion  was  still  substantially 
intact,  but  its  subjugation  was  a  task  to  which  Kublai 
soon  turned  his  attention,  and  it  became  the  most  pro- 
minent transaction  of  his  reign. 

In  India  the  most  powerful  sovereign  was  the  Turk 
sultan  of  Delhi ;  but,  though  .both  Bind  and  Bengal  owned 
his  supremacy,  no  part  of  peninsular  India  had  yet  been 
invaded.  The  Dravidian  kingdoms  of  the  south  were  still 
untouched  by  foreign  conquest,  and  the  accumulated  gold 
of  ages  lay  in  their  temples  and  treasuries  an  easy  prey  for 
the  coming  Moslem. 

In  the  Indo-Chinese  peninsula  and  the  Eastern  Islands  a 
variety  of  kingdoms  and  dynasties  were  expanding  and 
contracting,  of  which  we  have  but  dim  and  shifting 
glimpses.  Their  advance  in  wealth  and  art,  far  beyond 
what  the  present  state  of  those  regions  would"  suggest,  is 
attested  by  the  vast  and  magnificent  mediaeval  remains  of 
architecture  which  are  found  at  intervals  over  both  the 


POLO 


405 


Indo-CKinese  continental  countries  and  the  islands,  as  at 
I'agAn  in  Burniah,  at  Ayuthia  in  Siam,  at  Ongkor.and 
many  other  places  in  Camboja,  at  Borobodor  and  Bram- 
banan  in  Java.  All  these  remains  are  deeply  marked  by 
Itindu  influence. 

Venetian  genealogies  and  traditions  of  uncertain  value 
trace  the  Polo  family  to  Sebennico  in  Dalmatia,  and  before 
the  end  of  the  11th  century  names  of  its  members  are 
found  in  the  Great  Council  of  the  republic.  But  the 
ascertained  line  of  the  traveller  begins  only  with  his 
grandfather.  Andrea  Polo  of  S.  Felice  was  the  father  of 
three  sons,  Marco,  Nicolo,  and  Maffeo,  of  whom  the  second 
was  the  father  of  the  subject  of  this  article.-  They  were 
presumably  "noble,"  i.e.,  belonging  to  the  families  who 
had  seats  in  the  Great  Council,  and  were  enrolled  in  the 
Libro  d'Oro;  for  we  know  that  Marco  the  traveUer  is 
officially  so  styled  (nobilis  vir).  The  three  brothers  were 
engaged  in  commerce:  the  elder  Marco,  resident  apparently 
in  Constantinople  and  in  the  Crimea,  does  not  enter  into 
the  history. 

In  1260  we  find  Nicolo  and  Maffeo  at  Constantinople. 
How  long  they  had  been  absent  from  Venice  we  do  not  know. 
Nicolo  was  a  married  man,  and  had  left  his  wife  there.  In 
the  year  named  the  two  brothers  went  on  a  speculation  to 
the  Crimea,  whence  a  succession  of  chances  and  openings 
carried  them  to  the  court  of  Barka  Khan  at  Sarai,  and 
further  north,  and  eventually  across  the  steppes  to  Bokhara. 
Here  they  fell  in  with  certain  envoys  who  had  been  on  a 
mission  from  the  Great  Khan  Kubld  to  his  brother  Hulagu 
in  Persia,"-  and  by  them  were  persuaded  to  make  the 
journey  to  Cathay  in  their  company.  And  thus  the  first 
European  travellers  of  whom  we  have  any  knowledge 
reached  China.  Kublai,  when  they  reached  his  court,  was 
either  at  Cambai.uc  (q.v.),  i.e.,  Peking,  which  he  had  just 
rebuilt  on  a  vast  scale,  or  at  his  beautiful  summer  seat  at 
Shangtu  in  the  country  north  of  the  great  wall  ("  In 
Xanadu  did  Cubla  Khan,"  &.C.).  It  was  the  first  time 
that  the  khan,  a  man  full  of  energy  and  intelligence,  had 
fallen  in  with  European  gentlemen.  He  was  delighted 
with  the  Venetian  brothers,  listened  eagerly  to  all  that 
they  had  to  tell  of  the  Latin  world,  and  decided  to  send 
them  back  as  his  envoys  to  the  pope,  with  letters  requests 
ing  the  despatch  of  a  large  body  of  educated  men  to 
instruct  his  people  in  Christianity  and  in  the  liberal  arts. 
The  motive  of  the  khan's  request  was  doubtless  much  the 
same  that  some  years  back  influenced  the  black  king  of 
Uganda  on  L4ke  Nyanza  to  make  a  similar  request 
through  the  traveller  Stanley.  With  Kublai,  as  with  his 
predecessors,  religion  was  chiefly  a  political  engine.  The 
khan  must  be  obeyed ;  how  man  should  worship  God  was 
no  matter  to  him.  But  Kublai  was  the  first  of  his  house 
to  rise  above  tlie  essential  barbarism  of  the  Mongols,  and 
he  had  been  able  enough  to  discern  that  the  Christian 
church  could  afford  the  aid  he  desired  in  taming  his 
countrymen.  It  was  only  when  Rome  had  failed  lament- 
ably to  meet  his  advances  that  ho  fell  back  upon  the 
lamas  and  their  trumpery  as,  after  a  fashion,  civilizing 
instruments. 

The  brothers  arrived  at  Acre  in  April  1269.  They 
learned  that  Clement  IV.  had  died  the  year  before,  and 
no  now  pope  had  yet  been  chosen.  So  they  went  homo  to 
Venice,  where  they  found  that  Nicolo's  wife  was  dead,  but 
had  left  a  son  Marco,  now  a  fin6  lad  of  fifteen. 

The  papal  interregnum  was  the  longest  that  had  been 
known,  at  least  since  the  dark  ages.  After  the  Polos  had 
spent  two  years  at  home  there  was  still  no  popo  ;  and  the 
brothers  resolved  on  starting  again  for  the  East,  taking 
young  Mark  with  them.  At  Acre  they  took  counsel  with 
an  eminent  churchman,  Tedaldo,  archdeacon  of  Li.5ge,  and 
took  from  him  letters  to  authenticate  the  causes  that  had 


hindered  their  mission.  They  had  not  yet  left  Ayas  on 
the  Cilician  coast  (then  one  of  the  chief  points  for  the 
arrival  and  departure  of  the  land-trade  of-  Asia),  when 
news  overtook  them  that  a  pope  had  been  elected  in  the 
person  of  their  friend  Archdeacon  Tedaldo.  They  hastened 
back  to  Acre,  and  at  last  were  able  to  execute  Kublai's 
commission  and  to  obtain  a  papal  reply.  But,  instead  of 
the  hundred  teachers  asked  for  by  the  Great  Klian,  the  new 
pope  (styled  Gregory  X.)  could  supply  but  two  Domini- 
cans ;  and  these  lost  heart  and  turned  back,  when  they 
had  barely  taken  the  first  step  of  their  journey. 

lie  second  start  from  Acre  must  have  taken  piace 
aoout  November  1271  ;  and  from  a  careful  consideration 
of  the  indications  and  succession  of  chapters  in  Marco 
Polo's  book,  it  would  seem  that  the  party  proceeded  from 
Ayas  to  Sivas,  and  then  by  Mardin,  Mosul,  and  Baghdad 
to  Hormuz  at  the  mouth  of  the  Persian  Gulf  (see  Ormcs), 
with  the  purpose  of  going  on  to  China  by  sea ;  but  that, 
some  obstacle  having  interfered  which  compelled  them  to 
abandon  this  plan,  they  returned  northward  through 
Persia.  Traversing  Kerman  and  Khorasan  they  went  on 
to  Balkh  and  Badakhshan,  in  which  last  country — an 
Oriental  Switzerland,  as  it  has  been  called — they  were  long 
detained  by  the  illness  of  young  Marco.  In  a  passage 
touching  on  the  charming  climate  of  the  hills  of  Badakh- 
shan, Marco  breaks  into  an  enthusiasm  which  he  rarely 
betrays,  but  which  is  easily  understood  by  those  who 
have  known  what  it  is,  with  fever  in  the  blood,  to  escape 
to  the  exhilarating  air  and  fragrant  pine-groves  of  the 
HimAlaya.  They  then  ascended  tho  upper  Oxus  through 
WakhAn  to  the  plateau  of  Pamir  (a  name  first  heard  in 
Marco's  book).  Those  regions,  so  attractive  to  geo- 
graphers, were  never  described  again  by  any  European 
traveller  till  the  spirited  expedition  in  1838  of  that 
excellent  officer  the  late  Lieutenant  John  "Wood  of  tho 
Indian  navy,  whose  narrative  abounds  in  the  happiest 
incidental  illustration  of  Marco  Polo's  chapters.  Crossing 
the  Pamfr  highlands,  the  travellers  descended  upon  Kash- 
gar,  whence  they  proceeded  by  Yarkand  to  Khotan. 
These  are  regions  which  remained  almost  absolutely  closed 
to  our  knowledge  till  within  the  last  twenty  years,  when 
the  temporary  overthrow  of  the  Chinese  power,  and  the 
enterprise  of  travellers  like  the  late  Mr  Johnson  and  Mr 
Robert  Shaw,  followed  by  the  missions  of  Sir  Douglas 
Forsyth  and  his  companions,  and  of  Mr  Nev  Eliaa  again 
made  them  known. 

From  Khotan  th^y  passed  on  to  the  vicinity  oi  i^aKe 
Lop  (or  Lob),  reached  still  more  recently,  for  the  first  time 
since  Marco  Polo's  journey,  by  the  indefatigable  Russian 
oflScer  Prejevalsky,  in  1871.  Thence  the  great  desert  of 
Gobi  was  crossed  to  Tangut,  as  the  region  at  the  extreme 
north-west  of  China,  both  within  and  without  the  Wall, 
was  then  called 

In  his  account  of  tho  passage  of  the  Gobi,  or  desert  of 
Lop,  as  he  calls  it.  Polo  gives  some  description  of  tho  terror."? 
with  which  the  suggestions  of  solitude  and  desolation  have 
peopled  such  tracts  in  most  parts  of  the  world,  a  descrip- 
tion which  reproduces  with  singular  identity  that  of  tho 
Chinese  pilgrim  Hwen  T'sano  (f/.v.),  in  passing  tho  samo 
desert  in  the  contrary  direction  si.x.  hundred  years  before. 

Tho  Venetians,  in  their  further  journey,  were  met  and 
welcomed  by  the  Great  Khan's  people,  and  at  last  reached 
his  presence  at  Shangtu,  in  the  spring  of  1275.  Kublai 
received  thorn  with  gjeat  cordiality,  and  took  kindly  to 
young  Mark,  by  this  time  about  one  and  twenty  years  of 
ago.  Tho  "young  bachelor,"  as  tho  book  calls  him, 
applied  himself  diligently  to  the  acquisition  of  the  divers 
languages  and  written  characters  chiefly  in  use  among  tho 
multifarious  nationalities  included  in  the  khan's  cou-t  and 
administration :   and    Kub'ai,  seeing    that   he   was   both 


406 


POLO 


clever  ana  discreet,  soon  begun  to  employ  him  in  the 
IHiblic  service.  M.  Pauihier,  his  most  recent  French 
editor,  has  found  in  the  Chinese  annals  a  record  that  in 
the  year  1277  a  certain  Polo  was  nominated  as  a  second- 
class  commissioner  or  agent  attached  to  the  imperial 
council,  a  passage  which  we  may  without  scruple  apply  to 
the  young  Venetian. 

His  first  public  mission  was  one  which  carried  him 
through  the  provinces  -of  Shansi,  Shensi,  and  Szechuen, 
and  the  wild  country  on  the  coast  of  Tibet,  to  the  remote 
province  of  Yunnan,  called  by  the  Jlongols  Kardjang,  and 
into  northern  Burmah  (!Mien).  Marco,  during  his  stay  at 
court,  had  observed  the  khan's  delight  in  hearing  of 
strange  countries,  of  their  manners,  marvels,  and  oddities, 
and  had  heard  his  frank  expressions  of  disgust  at  the 
stupidity  of  envoys  and  commissioners  who  could  tell 
of  nothing  but  their  official  business.  And  he  took  care 
to  store  his  memory  or  his  note-book  with  all  curious 
facts  that  were  likely  to  interest  Kublai,  and  these,  on  his 
return  to  court,'  he  related  with  vivacity.  This  first 
journey  led  him  through  a  country  which  twenty  years  ago 
was  an  almost  absolute  terra  incognita, — though  within 
that  time  we  have  learned  much  regarding  it  through  the 
journeys  of  Cooper,  Garnier,  Eichthofen,  Gill,  Baber,  and 
others.  In  this  region  there  existed,  and  there  still  e.xists, 
in  the  deep  valleys  of  the  great  rivers,  and  in  the  alpine 
regions  which  border  them,  a  vast  ethnological  garden,  as 
it  were,  of  tribes  of  very  various  origin,  and  in  every 
stage  of  semi-civilization  or  barbarism  ;  and  these  afforded 
many  strange  products  and  eccentric  traits  of  manners  to 
entertain  the  emperor. 

JIarco  rose  rapidly  in  favour,  and  was  often  again 
employed  on  distant  missions,  as  well  as  in  domestic 
administration ;  but  we  are  able  to  gather  but  few  details 
of  his  employment.  At  one  time  we  know  that  he  held 
for  three  years  the  government  of  the  great  city  of  Yang- 
chow ;  on  another  occasion  we  find  him  visiting  Kara- 
korum  on  the  north  of  the  Gobi,  the  former  residence  of 
the  Great  Khans ;  again  in  Champa,  or  southern  Cochin- 
China ;  and,  once  more,  on  a  mission  to  the  southern 
states  of  India.  AVe  are  not  informed  whether  his  father 
and  uncle  shared  in  such  employments,  though  they  are 
specially  mentioned  as  having  rendered  material  service  to 
the  khan,  in  forwarding  the  capture  of  the  city  of  Siang- 
yang-foo  (on  the  Han  river)  during  the  war  against  southern 
China,  by  the  construction  of  powerful  artillery  engines — 
a  story,  however,  perplexed  by  chronological  difficulties, 
which  here  we  must  pass  over. 

In  any  case  the  elder  Polos  were  gathering  wealth, 
which  they  longed  to  carry  back  to  their  home  in  the 
lagoons,  and  after  their  long  exile  they  began  to  dread 
what  might  follow  old  Kublai's  death.  The  khan,  how- 
ever, was  deaf  to  all  suggestions  of  departure ;  and  but 
for  a  happy  chance  we  should  have  lost  our  mediceval 
Herodotus. 

Arghun,  khan  of  Persia,-  the  grandson  of  Kublai's 
brother  Hulagu,  lost  in  1286  his  favourite  wife,  Bolgana 
(Bulugkdn  or  "Sable")  byname.  Her  dying  injunction 
was  that  her  place  should  be  filled  only  by  a  lady  of  her 
own  !Mongol  tribe.  Ambassadors  were  despatched  to  the 
court  of  KhanbAligh  to  obtain  sucly  a  bride.  The  message 
was  courteously  received,  and  the  choice  fell  on  the  lady 
Cocachin  (Kukdchim),  a  maiden  of  seventeen,  "moult  bele 
dame  et  avenant."  The  overland  road  from  Peking  to 
Tabriz  was  not  only  of  portentous  length  for  so  delicate  a 
charge,  but  was  then  imperilled  by  war ;  so  the  envoys 
of  Arghun  proposed  to  return  by  sea.  Having  made 
acquaintance  with  the  Venetians,  and  eager  to  profit  by 
their  experience,  especially  by  that  of  Marco,  who  had  just 
returned  from,  hia  mission  to  India,  they  begged  the  khan 


as  a  favour  to  send  the  Franks  in  their  company.  He  con- 
sented with  reluctance,  but  fitted  out  the  party  nobly  for 
the  voyage,  charging  them  with  friendly  messages  to  the 
potentates  of  Christendom,  including  the  king  of  England. 
They  appear  to  have  sailed  from  the  port  of  Chwan-chow 
(or  Chinchew,  q.v.)  in  Fuhkien,  which  was  then  the  great 
haven  of  foreign  trade,  and  was  known  to  Western  strangers 
as  Zaitiin,  in  the  beginning  of  1292.  The  voyage  was  an 
ill-starred  one,  involving  long  detention  on  the  coast  of 
Sumatra,  and  in  the  south  of  India ;  and  two  years  or 
more  passed  before  thej'  arrived  at  their  destination  in 
Persia.  Two  out  of  the  three  envoy.?,  and  a  vast  propor- 
tion of  their  suite  perished  by  the  vny ;  but  the  three 
hardier  Venetians  survived  all  perils,  and  so  did  the  young 
lady,  who  had  come  to  look  on  them  with  filial  regard. 
It  proved  that  Arghun  Khan  had  been  dead  even  before 
they  quitted  China ;  his  brother  reigned  in- his  stead  ;  and 
his  son  Ghazan  succeeded  to  the  lady's  hand.  She  took 
leave  of  the  kindly  Venetians,  not  without  tears  ;  they 
went  on  to  Tabriz,  and  after  a  long  delay  there  departed 
for  Venice,  which  they  seem  to  have  reached  about  the 
end  of  1295. 

The  first  biographer  of  JIarco  Polo  was  the  famous 
geographical  collector  John  Baptist  Ramusio,  who  wrote 
more  than  two  centuries  after  the  traveller's  death.  Facts 
and  dates  sometimes  contradict  his  statements,  but  his 
story  is  told  with  great  life  and  picturesqueness,  and  we 
need  not  hesitate  to  accept,  at  least  as  a  genuine  tradition, 
a  romantic  story,  too  long  for  repetition  here,  of  the 
arrival  of  the  Polos  at  their  family  mansion  in  the  parish 
of  St  John  Chrysostom,  of  their  appearance  at  its  door  in 
worn  and  outlandish  garb,  of  the  scornful  denial  of  their 
identity,  and  of  the  shrewd  stratagem  by  which  they  secured 
acknowledgment  from  the  society  of  Venice. 

Some  years  pass  ere  we  hear  more  of  Marco  Polo  ;  and  it 
is  then  in  a  militant  capacity. 

Jealousies,  always  too  characteristic  of  Italian  communi- 
ties, were  in  the  case  of  Venice  and  Genoa  sharpened  by 
direct  commercial  rivalry,  and  had  been  growing  in  bitter- 
ness throughout  the  loth  century.  In  1298  the  Genoese 
made  preparations  on  a  great  scale  to  strike  a  blow  at 
their  rivals  on  their  own  ground,  and  a  powerful  fleet  of 
galleys,  under  Lamba  Doria  as  admiral,  made  straight  fcr 
the  Adriatic.  Venice,  on  hearing  of  the  Genoese  arma- 
ment, hastily  equipped  a  fleet  still  more  numerous,  and 
placed  it  under  the  command  of  Andrea  Dandolo.  The 
crew  of  a  Venetian  galley  at  this  time  amounted,  all  told, 
to  250  men,  under  a  comito  or  master,  but  besides  this 
officer  each  gaUey  carried  a  sopracomito  or  gentleman  com- 
mander, who  was  usually  a  noble.  On  one  of  the  galicya 
of  Dandolo's  fleet  went  JIarco  Polo  in  this  last  capacity. 

The  hostile  fleets  met  before  the  island  of  Curzola  on 
the  6th  September,  and  engaged  next  morning.  Tin-- 
battle  ended  in  a  complete  victory  to  Genoa,  the  details 
of  which  may  still  be  read,  inscribed  on  the  facade  of  the 
church  of  St  Matthew  in  that  city.  Sixty-six  Venetian 
galleys  were  burnt  in  the  Bay  of  Curzqla,  and  eighteen 
were  carried  to  Genoa,  with  7000  prisoners,  one  of  whom 
was  Marco  Polo.  The  captivity  was  of  less  than  a  year's 
duration  ;  for  by  the  mediation  of  Milan  peace  was  made, 
on  honourable  terms  for  both  republics,  by  July  1 299  ; 
and  Marco  Polo  was  probably  restored  to  his  family  during 
that  or  the  following  month. 

But  his  captivity  was  memorable  as  being  the  means  of 
bringing  about  the  record  of  his  remarkable  experiences  in 
the  East.  Up  to  this  time  he  had  doubtless  often  related 
his  stories  of  Cathay  among  his  friends  ;  and  from  thc^c 
stories  indeed,  and  the  frequent  employment  in  them  (as 
it  would  seem)  of  a  numerical  expression  unfamiliar  in 
those   days,    ho   had   acquired    tire   nickname   of   Marm 


POLO 


407 


jVil/io>ii.  Yet  it  would  seem  tbat  be  had  committed 
nothing  to  writing. 

The  narratives  not  only  of  Jfarco  Polo  but  of  several 
other  famous  mcdiitval  travellers  (e.r/.,  Ibii  Batuta,  Friar 
Odoric,  Nicolo  Conti)  seem  to  have  been  extorted  from 
tliem  by  a  kind  of  pressure,  and  committed  to  paper  by 
otlier  hands.  This  indicates  indeed  how  little  the  literary 
ambition  which  besets  so  many  modern  travellers  weighed 
with  the  class  in  those  daj-s.  It  is  also  perhaps  an 
e.Kample  of  that  intense  dislike  to  the  use  of  pen  and  ink 
•which  still  prevails  among  ordinary  respectable  folk  on  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean. 

But,  in  the  prison  of  Genoa,  llarco  Polo  fell  in  with 
a  certain  person  of  writing  propensities,  Rusticiano  or 
Rustichello  of  Pisa,  who  also  was  a  captive  of  the  Genoese. 
His  name  is  known  otherwise  to  literary  antiquaries  as 
that  of  a  respectable  kind  of  Nterary  hack,  who  abridged 
and  recast  several  of  the  French  romances  of  the  Arthurian 
cycle  which  were  then  in  fashion.  He  it  was,  apparently, 
who  persuaded  JIarco  Polo  to  defer  no  longer  the  com- 
mittal to  paper  of  his  wonderful  e.^pcriences.  In  any  case 
it  was  he  who  wrote  down  these  e.xperiences  at  !Marco's 
dictation ;  and  he  is  the  man  therefore  to  whom  we  owe 
the  existence  of  this  record,  and  possibly  the  preservation 
even  of  the  traveller's  name  and  memory. 

We  learn  but  little  of  Slarco  Polo's  personal  or  family 
history  after  this  captivity  ;  but  we  know  that  at  his  death 
he  left  a  wife,  Donata  by  name  (perhaps  of  the  family 
of  Loredano,.but  this  is  uncertain),  and  three  daughters, 
Fantina  and  Bellela  married,  the  former  to  Marco  Braga- 
dino,  and  Moreta  then  a  spinster,  but  married  at  a  later 
date  to  Ranuzzo  Dolfino.  One  last  glimpse  of  the 
traveller  is  gathered  from  his  will,  which  is  treasured  in 
the  library  of  St  Mark's.  On  the  9th  January  1324  the 
traveller,  now  in  his  seventieth  year,  and  sinking  day 
by  day  under  bodily  infirmity,  sent  for  a  neighbouring 
priest  and  notary  to  make  his  testament.  We  do  not 
know  the  exact  time  of  his  death,  but  it  fell  almost 
certainly  within  the  year  1324,  for  we  know  from  a  scanty 
series  of  documents,  commencing  in  June  1325,  that  he 
had  at  the  latter,  date  been  some  time  dead.  He  was 
buried  in  accordance  with  his  will,  in  the  church  of  St 
Lorenzo,  where  the  family  burying-place  was  marked  by  a 
sarcophagus,*  erected  by  his  filial  care  for  his  father  Nicolo, 
which  existed  till  near  the  end  of  the  IGth  century.  On 
the  renewal  of  the  church  in  1592  this  seems  to  have  been 
cast  aside  and  lost. 

The  copious  archives  of  Venice  have*  jielded  up  a  few 
traces  of  our  traveller.  Besides  his  own  will  just  alluded 
to,  there  are  in  the  library  the  wills  of  his  uncle  Marco  and 
of  his  younger  brother  MafEco ;  a  few  legal  documents 
connected  with  the  house  property  in  St  John  Chrysostom, 
and  other  papers  of  similar  character ;  and  two  or  tbree 
entries  in  the  record  of  the  Maggior  Consiglio.  'We  have 
mentioned  the  sobriquet  of  Marco  Millioni  which  he  got 
from  his  young  townsmen.  Ramusio  tells  us- that  he  had 
himself  noted  the  use  of  this  name  in  the  public  books  of 
the  commonwealth,  and  this  statement  has  been  verified  of 
late  years  in  one  of  those  entries  in  the  books  of  the  Great 
Council  (dated  10th  April  1305),  which  recoixls  as  one  of 
the  securities  in  a  certain  case  the  "  Nobilis  vir  Marchus 
Paulo  MiLiON."  Ic  is  alleged  that  long  after  the  traveller's 
death  there  was  always  in  the  Venetian  masques  one 
individual  who  assumed  the  character  of  Marco  Millioni, 
and  told  Munchausen-liko  stories  to  divert  the  vulgar. 
Such,  if  this  be  true,  was  the  honour  of  our  great  man  in 
his  own  country.  One  curious  parchment  among  those 
pic'SCTved  is  the  record  of  the  judgment  of  the  court  of 
requests  (Curm  Pct^tionum)  upon  a  suit  brouu'ht  by  tlie 
*'  Nobilis  Vir  Marcus  l\)lo  '  as?iin..t  Paulo  Girardo.  who  had 


been  an  agent  of  his,  to  recover  the  value  of  a  certain 
quantity  of  musk  for  which  Girardo  had  not  accounted. 
Another  curious  document  brought  to  light  withiu  the  last 
few  years  is  a  catalogue  of  certain  curiosities  and  valuables 
which  were  collected  in  tlie  house  of  the  unhappy  Marino 
Faliero,  and  this  catalogue  comprises  several  objects  that 
Jlarco  Polo  had  given  to  one  of  the  Faliero  family. 
Among  these  are  two  which  would  have  been  of  matchless 
interest  had  they  survived,  viz. — ''Unum  anulum  con 
inscriptione  que  dicit  Cuibile  Can  Marco  Polo,  et  unum 
torques  cum  multis  aninialibus  Tartarorum  sculptis  que 
res  donum  dedit  predictus  ^Marcus  quidam  (cuidam)  Fale- 
trorum." 

The  most  tangible  record  of  Polo's  memory  in  Venice  is 
a  portion  of  the  Ca'  Polo — the  mansion'  (there  is  every 
reason  to  believe)  where  the  three  travellers,  after  their 
absence  of  a  quarter  century,  were  denied  entrance.  The 
court  in  which  it  stands  was  kno^vn  in  Ramusio's  time  as 
the  Corte  del  Millioni,  and  now  is  called  Cortc  Sabbionera. 
That  which  remains  of  the  ancient  edifice  is  a  passage 
with  a  decorated  archway  of  Italo-Byzantine  character  per- 
taining to  the  13th  century.  With  this  exception,  what 
was  probably  the  actual  site  of  the  mansion  is  now 
occupied  by  the  Malibran  theatre. 

No  genuine  portrait  of  Marco  Polo  exists.  There  is  a 
medallion  portrait  on  the  wall  of  the  Sala  dello.  Scudo  in 
the  ducal  palace,  which  has  become  a  kind  of  type ;  but  it 
is  a  work  of  imagination  no  older  than  1761.  The  oldest 
professed  portrait  is  one  in  the  gallery  of  Monsignor  Badia 
at  Ilome,  which  is  inscribed  Marcus  I'olus  Venetvs  Totivs 
Orbis  et  Indie  Peregrator  Primus.  It  is  a  good  picture, 
but  evidently  of  the  16th  century  at  earliest,  and  the 
figure  is  of  the  character  of  that  time.  The  Europeans  at 
Canton  have  attached  the  name  of  Marco  Polo  to  a  figure  in 
a  Buddhist  temple  there  containing  a  gallery  of  "Arhans" 
or  Buddhist  saints,  and  popularly  known  as  the  "temple  of 
the  five  hundred  gods."  There  is  a  copy  of  this  at  Venice, 
which  the  Venetian  municipality  obtained  on  the  occasion 
of  the  Geographical  Congress  there  in  1881.  But  the 
whole  notion  was  a  groundless  fancy. 

The  book  indited  by  Rusticiano  the  Pisan,  wliicli  has  preserved 
Marco  Polo's  fame,  consists  essentially  of  two  parts.  The  tirst,  or  pro- 
logue, as  it  is  termed,  is  the  only  part  unfortunately  which  consists 
of  actual  personal  narrative.  It  relates  in  a  most  intcreslinj;.  though 
too  brief,  fashion  the  circumstances  which  led  the  two  elder  Polos 
to  the  khan's  court,  with  those  of  their  second  journey  accompanied 
by  Marco,  and  of  the  return  to  the  West  by  the  Indian  seas  and 
Persia.  The  second  and  staple  part  of  the  book  consists  of  a  long 
scries  of  chapters  of  very  unequal  length  and  unsystematic  structure, 
descriptive  of  the  different  states  and  provinces  of  Asia,  with 
occasional  notices  of  their  sights  and  products,  of  curious  manners 
and  remarkable  events,'  and  especially  regarding  the  enipcrot 
Kublai,  his  court,  wars,  and  administration.  A  series  of  chapters 
near  the  close  treats  in  a  wordy  and  monotonous  manner  of  sundry 
wars  that  took  place  between  various  branches  of  tlio  liouso  of 
Jenghiz  in  the  latter  half  of  the  13th  century.  -This  last  series  is 
cither  omitted  or  greatly  curtailed  in  all  the  MS.  copies  and  versions 
except  one. 

It  was  long  a  doubtful  question  in  what  lan,Tiiago  the  work  was 
originally  written.  That  this  had  been  some  dialect  of  Italian  was 
«  natural  presumption,  and  a  coutcmpor.ary  statcniont  could  bo 
alleged  in  its  favour.  But  there  is  now  no  doubt  that  the  original 
was  French.  This  was  first  indicated  bv  Count  DaUielli-Boni,  wlio 
published  an  elaborate  edition  of  two  of  the  Italian  texts  at  Florenco 
m  1827,  and  who  found  in  tho  oldest  of  theso  indi.";putablo  signs 
that  it  was  a  translation  from  the  French.  The  argument  has  sinco 
been  followed  up  by  others  ;  and  a  manuscript  in  rude  and  neculiar 
French,  belonging  to  tho  National  Library  of  Paris,  which  was 
printed  by  the  ^«cl^t(i  do  O^ographio  in  1824,  hns  been  demon- 
strated (as  we  iiecd  not  hesitate  to  say)  to  be  either  tho  original  or 
a  very  close  transcript  of  tho  original  dictation.  A  variety  of  its 
characteristics  arc  strikingly  indicative  of  tho  unroviscd  product  of 
dictation,  and  arc  such  ns  would  necessarily  have  disappeared  either 
in  a  translation  or  in  a  revi-sed  copy.  Many  illustrations  could  be 
adduced  of  the  fact  that  the  use  of  French  was  not  a  circumstanfii 
of  a  surprising  or  unusual  nature;  for  the  language  had  at  that 
time,  in  some  points  of  view,-  oveu  a  wider  difl'usion  than  at  proi 


408 


POLO 


sent,  and  examples  of  its  literary  employment  by  writers  who 
were  not  Frenchmen  are  very  numerous.  It  is  superfluous  to  allege 
instances  here,  when  we  observe  that  Rustieiano  himself,  the  scribe 
of  the  narrative,  was  a  compiler  of  French  romances. 

Some  eighty  JISS.  of  the  book  are  known,  and  their  texts 
exhibit  considerable. differences.  These  fall  under  four  principal 
typesi  Of  these  typo  i.  is  found  completely  only  in  that  old  French 
codex  which  has  been  mentioned.  Type  ii.  is  shown  by  several 
valuable  MSS.  in  purer  French,  the  best  of  which  formed  the  basis 
of  the  edition  prepared  by  the  late  M.  Pauthier  in  1865.  It  exhibits 
a  text  pruned  and  revised  from  the  rude  original,  but  without  any 
exactness,  though  perhaps  under'  some  general  direction  by  Marco  . 
Polo  himself,  for  an  inscription  prefixed  to  one  of  the  1IS3.  records 
the  presentation  of  a  copy  by  the  traveller  himself  to  the  Seigneur 
Thibanlt  de  Cepoy,  a  distinguished  Frenchman  known  to  history, 
at  Venice  iu  the  year  1306.  Type  iii.  is  that  of  a  Latin  vei-sion 
prepared. in  Marco  Polo's  lifetime,  though  without  any  sign  of  his 
cognizance,  by  Francesco  Pipino,  a  Dominican  of  Bologna,  and 
translated  from  an  Italian  copy.  In  this,  condensation  and  curtail- 
ment are  carried  a  good  deal  further  than  in  typo  ii.  Some  of  the 
forms  under  which  this  type  appears  curiously  illustrate  the  effects 
of  absence  of  effective  publication,  not  only  before  the  invention  of 
the  press,  but  in  its  early  days.  Thus  the  Latin  version  published 
by  Grynteus  at  Basel  in  the  A^ovus  Orbis  (1532)  is  different  in  its 
language  from  Pipino's,  and  yet  is  clearly  traceable  to  that  as  its 
foundation.  In  fact  it  is  a  retranslation  into  Latin  from  some 
version  of  Pipino  (Marsden  thinks  the  Portuguese  printed  one  of 
1 502).  It  introduces  also  changes  of  its  own,  and  is  quite  worthless 
as  a  text;  and  it  is  curious  that  Andreas  Milller,  who  in  the  17th 
century  took  much  trouble  with  editing  Polo  according  to  his  lights, 
should  have  unfortunately  chosen  as  his  text  this  fifth-hand  version. 
It  may  be  added  that  the  French  editions  published  in  the  middle 
of  the  16th  century  were  translations  from  Grynaeus's  Latin. 
Hence  they  complete  this  curious  and  vicious  circle  of  translation 
— French,  Italiau,  Pipino's  Latin,  Portuguese,  Grynaeus's  Latin, 
French. 

The  fourth  type  of  text  deviates  largely  from  those  already  men- 
tioned ;  its  history  and  true  character  are  involved  in  obscurity. 
It  is  only  represented  by  the  Italian  version  prepared  for  the  press 
by  G.  B.  Ramusio,  with  most  interesting  preliminary  dissertations, 
and  published  at  Venice  two  years  after  his  death,  in  the  second 
volume  of  the  Navigalioni  e  Viaggi.  Its  peculiarities  hre  great. 
Kamusio  seems  to  imply  that  he  made  some  use  of  Pipino's  JLatin, 
and  various  passages  confirm  tbis.  But  many  new  circumstances, 
and  anecdotes  occurring  in  no  other  copy,  are  introduced  ;  many 
names  assume  a  new  shape  ;  the  whole  style  is  more  copious  and 
literary  in  character  than  that  of  any  other  version.  'Whilst  a 
few  of  the  changes  and  interpolations  seem  to  carry  us  further  from 
the  truth,  others  contain  facts  of  Asiatic  nature  or  history,  as  well 
as  of  Polo's  alleged  exiieriences,  which  it  is  extremely  difficult  to 
ascribe  to  any  hand  but  the  traveller's  own. 

'We  recognize  to  a  certain  extent  tampering  with  the  text,  as  in 
cases  where  the  proper  names  used  by  Polo  have  been  identified, 
and  more  modern  forms  substituted.  In  some  other  cases  the 
editorial  spirit  has  been  more  meddlesome  and  has  gone  astray. 
Thus  the  age  of  young  Jlarco  has  been  altered  to  correspond  with 
ft  date  which  is  itself  erroneous.  Ormus  is  described  as  an  island, 
contrary  to  the  old  texts,  and  to  the  facts  of  its  position  in  Polo's 
time.  In  speaking  of  the  oil-springs  of  Caucasus  the  phrase  "  camel- 
loads"  has  been  substituted  for  "ship-loads,"  in  ignorance  that  the 
Bite  was  Baku  on  the  Caspian. 

But  on  the  other  liaud  there  are  a  number  of  new  circumstances 
certainly  genuine,  which  can  hardly  be  ascribed  to  any  one  but 
Polo  himself.  We  will  quote  one  only.  This  is  the  account  which 
Ramusio's  version  gives  of  the  oppressions  exercised  by  Kublai's 
Mohammedan  minister  Ahmed,  telling  how  the  Cathayans  rose 
against  hinr  and  murdered  him,  with  the  addition  that  Messer 
Marco  was  on  the  spot  when  all  this  happened.  Not  only  is  the 
whole  story  in  substantial  accordance  with  the  Chinese  annals,  even 
to  the  name  of  the  chief  conspirator  ( Vanchu  in  Ramusio,  Wang- 
eheu  in  the  Chinese  records),  but  the  annals  also  tell  of  the  courageous 
frankness  of  "Polo,  assessor  of  the  privy  council,"  in  onening 
Kublai's  eyes  to  the  iniquities  of  his  agent. 

To  sum  up,  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  we  have,  imbedded  in  the 
text  of  this  most  interesting  edition  of  Ramusio's,  the  supplemen- 
tary recollections  of  the  traveller,  noted  down  at  a  later  period  of 
his  life,  but  perplexed  by  translation  and  retranslation  and  editorial 
mistakes.  The  most  important  desideratum  still  remaining  in 
reference  to  Polo's  book  is  the  recovery  of  the  original  from  which 
Ramusio  derived  the  passages  peculiar  to  Ms  edition. 

.That  Marco  Polo  has  been  so  universally  recognized  as  the  prince 
of  mediaeval  travellers  is  due  rather  to  the  width  of  his  experience, 
the  vast  compass  of  his  journeys,  and  the  romantic  nature  of  his 
personal  history  than  to  transcendent  superiority  "of  character  or 
capacity.  Enthusiastic  biogi-aphers,  beginning  with  Ramusio,  have 
placed  him  on  the  same  platform  with  Columbus.  But  he  has 
left  no  triice  of  the.  genius  and  lofty  enthusiasm,  the  ardent  and 


justified  previsions,  whicli  mark  the  great  admiral  as  one  of  ti 
lights  of  the  human  race.  It  is  a  juster  praise  that  the  S|iur  wl.it  . 
his  book  eventually  gave  to  geographical  studies,  ami  the  be:icoiHi 
which  it  hung  out  at  the  eastern  extremities  of  the  earth,  hclpcil 
to  guide  the  aims,  though  hardly  to  kindle  the  fire  of  Ihe  greater 
son  of  the  rival  republic.  His  work  was  at  least  a  link  in  the 
providential  chain  which  at  last  dragged  the  New  World  to  ligh.t. 

But  Polo  also  was  the  first  traveller  to  trace  a  route  across  the 
whole  longitude  of  Asia,  naming  and  describing  kingdom  afttr 
kingdom,  which  he  had  seen  with  his  own  eyes  ;  the  first  to  speak 
of  the  new  and- brilliant 'court  which  had  been  established  at 
Peking  ;  the  first  to  reveal  China  in  all  its  wealth  and  vastness.  auil 
to  tcU  us  of  the  nations  on  its  borders,  with  all  their  eccentricities 
of  manners  and  worship  ;  the  first  to  tell  more  of  Tibet  than  its 
name,  to  speak  of  Burmah,  of  Laos,  of  Siam,  of  Cochin-China,  of 
Japan,  of  Java,  of  Sumatra,  and  of  other  islands  of  the  Great 
Archipelago,  that  museum  of  beauty  and  marvels,  of  Nicobar  and 
Andaman  Islands  with  their  naked  savages,  of  Ceylon  and  its 
sacred  peak,  of  India,  not  as  a  dream-land  of  fables,  but  as  a 
country  seen  and  partially  explored  ;  the  first  in  mediieval  time* 
to  give  any  distinct  account  of  the  secluded  Christian  empire  of 
Abyssinia,  and  of  the  semi-Christian  island  of  Socotra,  and  to  speak, 
however  dimly,  of  Zanzibar,  and  of  the  vast  and  distant  Madagascar; 
whilst  he  carries  us  also  to  the  remotely  opposite  region  of  Siberia 
and  the  Arctic  shores,  to  speak  of  dog-sledges,  white  bears,  and 
reindeer-riding  Tnnguses.  That  aU  this  rich  catalogue  of  discoveries 
(as  they  may  fitly  be  called)  should  belong  to  the  revelation  o{ 
one  man  and  one  book  is  ample  ground  enough  to  justify  a  very 
high  place  in  the  roll  of  fame. 

Jndeed  it  is  remarkable  in  how  large  a  proportion  of  the  Ola 
World  modem  travellers  and  explorers  have  been  but  developing' 
what  Marco  Polo  indicated  in  outline, — it  might  be  said,  without 
serious  hyperbole,  only  travelling  in  his  footsteps,  most  certainl/ 
illustrating  his  geographical  notices.  At  the  moment  when  these 
lines  are  written  a  British  mission  is  starting  to  survey  for  political 
reasons  a  tract  upon  the  Oxus ;  Marco  Polo  traversed  this  tract.  For 
twenty  years  Russian  and  English  explorers  have  been  ti'ying  to 
solve  the  problem  of  the  Pamir  watershed ;  Marco  Polo  explored 
it.  Till  within  the  last  quarter  century  the  cities  of  easterik 
Turkestan,  such  as  Kashgar,  Yarkand,  and  Khotan,  were  known 
only  from  the  compilation  of  Oriental  fragments  ;  Marco  had  visited 
them  all.  Within  a  shorter  period  dense  darkness  hung  over  the 
tracts  between  western  China  and  Upper  Burmah  ;  these  also  had 
been  traversed  by  Marco  Pqlo.  France  is  now  scattering  the  brands 
of  war  in  Tong-king,  in  Funkien,  and  in  Madagascar  ;  all  these  were 
within  Marco  Polo's  knowledge  and  find  mention  in  his  book.  And 
how  vast  an  area  has  he  described  from  personal  knowledge  which 
remains  outside  of  the  fields  that  we  have  indicated  I  Readers  of 
the  book  would  welcome  a  little  more  of  egotistical  detail.  Imperson- 
ality is  carried  to  excess  ;  and  we  are  often  driven  to  discern  only 
by  indirect  and  doubtful  induction  whether  he  is  speaking  of  places 
from  personal  knowledge  or  from  hearsay.  In  truth,  though  there 
are  delightful  exceptions,  and  though  nearly  every  part  of  the  book 
suggests  interesting  questions,  a  desperate  meagreness  and  baldness 
does  affect  considerable  parts  of  the  narrative.  In  fact  his  work, 
reminds  us  sometimes  cf  his  own  description  of  Khorasan—  "  On 
chevauche  par  beans  plains  et  belles  costieres,  1^  ou  il  a  moult  beaus 
herbages  et  bonne  pasture  et  frais  assez  .  .  .  et  aucune  fois  y 
treuve  Ten  un  desert  de  soixante  milles  ou  de  mains,  esquel  desera 
ue  treuve  Ten  point  d'eaue  ;  mais  la  convient  porter  o  lui ! " 

The  diffusion  of  the  book  was  hardly  so  rapid  as  has  been  some- 
times alleged.  It  is  true  that  we  know  from  Gilles  Mallet's  catalogue 
of  the  books  collected  in  the  Louvre  by  Charles  V.,  dating  c. 
1370-75,  that  no  less  than  five  copies  of  Jlarco  Polo's  work  were  then 
in  the  collection ;  but  on  the  other  hand  the  number  spread  over 
Europe  of  MSS.  and  early  printed  editions  of  Mandeville,  with  his 
lying  wonders,  indicates  a  much  greater  popularity.  Dante,  who 
lived  twenty-three  years  after  the  book  was  dictated,  and  who> 
touchesso  many  things  iu  the  seen  and  unseen  worlds,  never  alludes 
to  Polo,  nor,  we  believe,  to  anything  that  can  be  connected  with 
him  ;  nor  can  any  trace  of  Polo  be  discovered  in  the  book  of  his 
contemporary  JIarino  Sanudo  the  elder,  though  this  worthy  is  well 
acquainted  with  the  work,  later  by  some  years, '  of  Hayton  the 
Armenian,  and  thoughmany  of  the  subjectson  which  he  writes  in  his 
own  book  {De  Sccreiis  Fidelium  Crucis^)  challenge  a  reference  to- 
Polo's  experiences.  Perhaps  indeed  the  most  notable  circumstanc& 
bearing  in  the  same  direction  is  the  fact  that  the  author  of  Mande- 
ville, whoever  he  really  was,  and  who  plundered  right  and  left, 
never  plunders  Polo,  a  thing  only  to  be  accounted  for  by  his  being 
ignorant  of  Polo's  existence.  The  only  literary  work  we  know  of 
belonging  to  the  14th  century  which  shows  a  thorough  acquaint- 
ance with  Polo's  book  is  the  poetical  romance  of  Baudouin  de 
Sciourg,  which  borrows  themes  from  it  largely. 

Marco  Polo  contributed  so  vast  an  amount  of  new  facts  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  earth's  surface,  that  one  might  have  expected  his 

1  Printed  by  Bongara  iu  the  coUectiOD  called  Oesta  Dei  per  F*ancoi,  ^611. 


P  OL  — P  0  L 


409 


book  to  have  a  suddeiTeffect  upon  ^^eograpiiy.  But  no  such  result 
occurred  for  a  long  time.  Doubtless  several  causes  contributed  to 
this,  of  which  the  unreal  character  attributed  to  the  book  as  a 
a:oll'ection  of  romantic  marvels,  rather  titan  of  geoj;raphical  and 
iistorioal  facts,  may  have  been  one, — a  view  that  tlio  diffusion  of 
MandeviUe's  fictions,  far  outdoing  Polo's  facts  in  marvel,  perhaps 
tended  to  corroborate,  whilst  supplanting  the  latter  in  popularity. 
But  the  essential  causes  were  the  imperfect  nature  of  publication  ; 
the  traditional  character  of  the  prevailing  geography,  which 
hampered  the  propagation  of  true  statements ;  and  the  entire 
absence  of  scientific  principle  in  what  did  pass  for  geography,  so 
that  there  was  no  organ  competent  to  the  assimilation  of  so  huge  a 
mass  of  new  knowledge. 

The  late  Sir  Francis  Palgrave  wrote  a  book  called  The  Merchant 
aiid  the  Friar,  in  which  it  is  feigned  that  Marco  Polo  comes  to 
England,  and  becomes  acquainted  with  Roger  Bacon.  Had  Roger 
Bacon  indeed  known  either  the  traveller  or  his  book,  wo  cannot 
xloubt,  from  the  good  use  he  makes,  in  his  Opiis  Majus,  of  William 
of  Rubruk,  that  ha  would  have  turned  the  facts  to  good  account. 

But  the  world  with  which  the  map  makers  »f  the  13th  and  14th 
centuries  dealt  was,  in  its  outline,  that  handed  down  by  traditions 
of  the  craft,  as  sanctioned  by  some  fathers  of  the  church,  such  as 
Orosius  and  Isidore,  and  sprinkled  with  a  combination  of  classical 
«nd  mediaeval  legends.  Almost  universally  the  earth's  surface  fills 
■a  circular  diA,  rounded  by  the  ocean, ^a  fashion  that  already  was 
■ridiculed  by  Herodotus  (iv.  36),  as  it  was  in  a  later  generation  by 
Aristotle  (ileleoroL,  ii.  5).  This  was  the  most  persistent  dnd  the 
unost  obstructive  dogma  of  the  false  geogi'aphy.  The  central  point 
of  the  circle  is  occupied  by  Jerusalem,  because  it  was  found  written 
in  Ezekiel : — "  Haec  dicit  Dominus  Deus,  Ista  est  Jerusalem,  in 
medio  gentium  posui  earn,  et  in  circuitu  ejus  terras," — supposed  to 
be  corroborated  by  the  Psalmist's  expression,  regarded  as  prophetic 
of  our  Lord's  passion^"  Deus  autem  Rex  noster  ante  sajcula  operatus 
•est  salutcm  in  medio  terrae  "  (Ps.  Ixxiv.  12).  Paradise  occupied  the 
extreme  east,  because  it  was  found  in  Genesis  that  the  Lord  planted 
a  garden  eastward  in  Eden.  Gog  and  Magog  were  set  in  the  far 
north  or  north-east  because  it  was  again  said  in  Ezekiel;  "  Ecce 
ago  super  te  Gog  principem  capitis  Mosoch  et  Thubal  .  .  .  et 
asceudere  te  faciam  de  lateribus  acjuilonis."  This  last  legend  of  Gog 
and  JIagog,  shut  up  by  a  mountain-barrier,  plays  a  prominent  part 
in  the  nmantic  history  of  Alexander,  which  had  such  enormous 
currency  in  those  a"es,  and  attracted  especial  attention  in  the  13th 
century,  owing  to  the  general  identification  of  the. Tartar  hordes 
Avith  those  impure  nations  whom  the  hero  had  shut  up.  It  is 
not  wonderful  t!ut  the  Tartar  irruption  into  the  West,  heard  of 
at  first  with  as  much  astonishment  as  it  woidd  produce  now,  was 
connected  with,  this  old  belief. 

The  loose  and  scanty  nomenclature  of  the  cosmography  was 
mainly  borrowed  from  Pliny  and  Mela,  through  such  fathers- as  wo 
have  named  ;  whilst  vacant  spaces  were  occupied  by  Amazons, 
Arimaspians,  and  the  realm  of  Prester  John.  A  favourite  representa- 
tion of  the'  inhabited  earth  was  a  great  T  within  an  0  (see  Map). 

Such  schemes  of  the  world  had  no  place,  for  the  new  knowledge. 
The  first  genuine  attempt  at  a  geographical  compilation  absolutely 
Iree  from  the  traditional  idola  seems  to  be  that  in  the  I'orlulano 
Uediceo  at  Florence.  In  this,  some  slight  use  seems  to  be  made  of 
Tolo.  But  a  far  more  important  vork  is  one  of  the  next  generation, 
the  celebrated  Catalan  map  of  1375  in  the  Paris  library.  This  also 
is  an  honest  endeavour  un  a  large  scale  to  represent  the  known 
world  on  the'  basis  of  collected  facts,  casting  aside  all  theories, 
jaeudo-scienlifio  and  pseudo-theological  ;  and  a  very  remarkable 
work  it  i.s.  In  this  work  Marco  Polo's  inlluence  on  maps  is  perhaps 
seen  to  the  greatest  advantage.  As  regards  Central  and  Further 
Asia,  and  partially  as  regards  India,  his  book  is  the  basis  of  the 
map.  His  names  are  often  much  perverted,  and  it  is  not  always 
easy  to  understand  the  view  that  the  compiler  took  of  his  itineraries. 
Still  we  have  Cathay  admirably  placed  in  the  true  position  of  China, 
ea  a  great  empire  filling  the  soutti-east  of  Asia.  Tlie  transOangntio 
peninsula  is  absent,  but  that  of  India  proper  is,  for  the  first  time 
in  the  histoty  of  geography,  represented  with  a  fair  approxiuialion 
to  correct  form  and  position.  Wo  really  seem  to  see  in  this  map 
something  like  the  idea  of  Asia  that  the  traveller  himself  would  havo 
prcocntcd,  had  he  bequeathed  us  a  map. 

In  the  following  ago  wo  find  more  frequent  indications  that  Polo's 
hook  was  diffused  and  read.  And  now  that  the  spirit  of  discovery 
was  beginning  to  stir,  the  work  was  regarded  in  a  justcr  light  as  a 
>ook  of  facts,  and  not  as  a  mere  Romman  du.  Grant  Kaan.  But 
the  age  produced  new  supplies  of  information  in  greater  abundance 
than  the  knowledge  cf  geographers  was  prepared  to  digest  or 
co-ordinate  ;  and,  owing  partly  to  this,  and  partly  to  his  unhappy 
xeverslon  to  the  fancy  of  ndrcnfar  disk,  the  map  o(  Fro  Mauro 
<146'J),  one  of  the  greatest  mapinnking  enterprises  In  hl.itory,  and 
the  result  of  Immense  labour  In  the  collection  of  tacts  and  the 
«ndettVOur  to  combine  them,  really  gives  a  much  less  accurate  Idea 
of  ,\sla  tlia.^  the  Cnrin  f'ntnlnnn: 

When  >f .  Llbri.  in  nls  Iti.:l.  dfs  Srifncfs  yfatUfmniiiiiifn,  speaks  of 
Columbui!  as  "Jealous  of  I'olo's  laurels,"  bespeaks  rashly.    In  fact 

19-16* 


Columbus  knew  of  Polo's  revelations  only  at  second-hand,  from  the 
letters  of  the  Florentine  Paolo  Toscanelli  and  the  like  ;  wo  cannot 
find  that  he  ever  refers  to  Polo  by  name.  Though,  to  the  day  oi 
his  death,  Columbus  was  full  of  imaginations  about  Zipangu  (Japan) 
and  the  land  of  the  Great  Khan;  as  being  in  immediate  proximity 
to  his  discoveries,  these  were  but  accidents  of  his  great  theory.  It 
was  bis  intimate  conviction  of  the  absolute  siuallnes.s  of  the  earth, 
of  the  vast  extension  of  Asia  eastward,  and  of  the  consequent  nar- 
rowness of  the  westein  ocean  on  which  his  life's  project  was  ba.sed. 

When,  soon  after  the  discovery  of  the  New  World,  attempts  were 
made  to  combine  the  new  and  old  knowledge,  the  results  were 
unhappy.  The  earliest  of  such  combinations  tried  to  realize  the 
iileas  of  Columbus  regarding  the  identity  of  his  discoveries  with  the 
Great  Klian's  dominions  ;  but  even  after  America  had  vindicated  its 
independent  existence,  and  the  new  knowledge  of  the  Portuguese 
had  introduced  China  where  the  Catalan  map  had  presented  Cathay, 
the  latter  country,  with  the  whole  of  Polo's  nomenclature,  was 
shunted  to  the  north,  forming  a  separate  system.  Hcncefornard 
the  influence  of  Polo's  work  on  maps  was  simply  injurious ;  and 
wlven  to  his  names  was  added  a  sprinkling  of  Ptolemy's,  as  was 
usual  throughout  the  16th  century,  the  result  was  a  hotch-potch 
conveying  no  approximation  to  any  representation  of  facts. 

Gradually  the  contributions  of  Ptolemy  and  Polo  are  used  more 
sparingly,  but  in  Sanson's  map  (1659)  a  new  element  of  confusion 
appears  in  numerous  features  derived  from  the  "Nubian  Geo- 
grapher," i.e.,  Edrisi. 

It  is  needless  to  follow  the  matter  iurther.  AVith  the  increased 
knowledge  of  northern  Asia  from  the  Russian  side,  and  of  China 
from  the  maps  of  Martini,  followed  by  the  later  Jesuit  surveys,  and 
with  the  real  science  brought  to  bear  on  Asiatic  geography  by  such 
men  as  De  I'lslo  and  D'Anvillo,  mere  traditional  nomenclature 
gradually  disappeared  ;  and  the  task  which  Polo  has  provided  for 
the  geographers  of  later  days  has  been  chiefl.y  that  of  determining 
tlie  true  localities  which,  his  book  describes  uuder  obsolete  or 
corrupted  names. 

Before  concluding,  a  word  or  two  seems  necessary  on  the  subject 
of  the  alleged  introduction  of  important  inventions  into  Europe  by 
Marco  Polo.  Assertions  or  surmises  of  this  kind  have  been  made 
in  regard  to  the  mariner's  compass,  to  gunpowder,  and  lo  printing. 
Though  the  old  assertions  as  to  the  first  two  are  still  occasionally 
repeated  in  books  of  popular  character,  no  one  who  has  paid  any 
attention  to  the  subject  now  believes  Marco  can  have  had  anything 
to  do  with  thefr  introduction.  But  there  is  no  doubt  that  the 
resemblance  of  early  European  block-books  to  those  of  China  is  in 
some  respects  so  striking  that  it  seems  clearly  to  indicate  the 
derivation  of  the  art  from  that  country.  There  is,  however,  not 
the  slightest  reason  for  connecting  this  introduction  with  the  name 
of  Polo.  His  fame  has  so  overshadowed  later  travellers  that  the 
fact  has  been  generally  overlooked  that  for  some  years  in  the  14th 
century  not  only  were  missions  of  the  Roman  church  established 
in  the  chief  cities  of  eastern  China,  but  a  regular  overland  trade 
was  carried  on  between  Italy  and  Chino,  by  way  of  'Tana  (Azolf), 
Astrakhan,  Otrar,  Kamul  (Hami),aiid  Kan-chow.  Many  a  traveller 
other  than  Marco  Polo  might  have  brought  home  the  block-books, 
and  some  might  have  witnessed  the  process  of  making  them.  This 
is  the  less  to  bo  oscribed  to  Polo,  because  he  so  curiously  omits  to 
speak  of  the  process  of  printing,  when,  in  describing  the  block- 
printed  paper-money  of  China,  his  subject  seems  absolutely  to 
challenge  a  description  of  the  art.  Y.) 

POLOTSK,  a  district  town  of  tho  government  of  Vitebsk, 
at  tho  conflucnco  of  the  Polota  with  the  Dwina  (Diina),  5 
miles  from  the  Smolensk  and  Riga  Railway,  is  one  of  the 
oldest  towns  of  Russia.     The  continuous  wars,  however, 

ff  which,  owing  to  its  position  on  the  line  of  coiumunica- 
ion  between  central  Russia  and  the  west,  it  was  for 
many  centuries  the  scone,  have  allowed  almost  nothing  of 
its  remarkable  antiquities  to  remain.  Tho  "  upper  castle  " 
which  stood  at  the  confluence  of  tho  rivers  aiid  had  a 
stone- wall  with  seven  towers,  is  now  in  ruins,  as  also  is 
tho  "lower  castle,"  formerly  enclosed  with  strong  walls 
and  connected  with  tho  upper  by  a  bridge.  The  numerous 
monasteries  and  convents  also  have  disappeared.  The 
cathedral  of  St  Sophia  in  the  ujiper  castle,  built  in  the 
l'2th  century,  and  successively  used  as  a  place  of  worship 
by  the  Orcokr  the  Catholic,  and  thn  "  United  "  Churches, 

fell  to  ruins  in  tho  ISlh  century,  whon  the  "Hiiiled" 
bishop  Grelmicki  tiubstitutod  a  modern  sinicture.  The 
town  is  now  of  trilling  iniporlanoe,  and  the  popiilntiDn 
(12,'200  in  IS.SO,  ngain.^t  \:\,sm  in  LSC,.'",)  is  aeprea.Mng. 
I'pw.-irds  of  Iwo-lhirds  .if  the  iiiluibitania  arc  .Jews;  the 
remainder  have  hohmged  ni().slly  to  the  (ircek  Church  since 


410 


P  0  L  — P  O  L 


1839,  when  they  were  compelled  to  abandon  the  Union. 
Flax,  linseed,  corn,  and  timber  are'  the  leading  articles  of 
the  commerce  of  the  town. 

Polotesk  or  Polteslc  is  mentioned,  in  &6]i  as  one  of  tlie  towns 
given  by  Eurik  to  his  men,  together  with  Byelo-ozero  and  RostnlV. 
In  980  it  hail  a  jiiince  of  its  own,  Rog%'olod,  whose  dauglitcr  is  the 
subject  of  many  legends.  It  remained  an  independent  principality 
imtil  the  12th  century,  resisting  tlie  repeated  attacks  of  the  princes 
of  Kieff;  those  of  TskofF,  Lithuania,  and  the  Livonian  knights, 
liowcver,  proved  jaore  powerfnl,  and  it  fell  under  Lithjianian  rule 
in  the  following  century.  About  1385  its  independence  was  de- 
stroyed by  the  Litlmauian  prince  Witowt.  It  was  five  times 
besieged  by  Moscow  in  1500-18,  and  was  taken  by  John  the 
Terrible  in"  1563.  Recaptured  by  Stephen  Batory  sixteen  years 
later,  it  became  Polish  by  the  treaty  of  1582.  It  was  then  a 
populous  city,  whiclv  enjoying  the  privileges  of  "  Magdeburg  law  " 
from  1498,  carried  on  an'active  commerce,  and  covered  a  large 
area.  Pestilences  and  conflagrations  were  its  niin;  the  plague  of 
1566  wrought  great  havoc  among  its  inhabitants,  and  that  ol  1600 
destroyed  15,000.  The  castles,  the  town,  and'its  walls  were  burned 
ill  1607  and  1642.  The  Russians  continued  their  attacks,  burning 
and  plundering  the  town,  and  twice  taking  possession  of  it  for  a 
few.  years,  in  1633  and  1705.  It  was  not  definitively  annexed,  how- 
everj  to  Russia  until  1772,  after  the  first  dismemberment  of  Poland. 
In  1812  its  inhabitants  resisted  the  French  invasion,  and  the  town 
was  partially  destroyed. 

POLTAVA,  a  government  of  south-western'  Russia, 
hounded  by  TchernigofE  on  the  N.,  KharkoS  on  the  E., 
Ekaterinoslaff  and  Kherson  on  the  S.,  and  Kiefi  on  the  W., 
and  having  an  area  of  19,265  square  miles.  Its  surface  is 
an  undulating  plain  from  500  to  600  feet  above  sea-level, 
with  a  few  elevations  reaching  670  feet  in  the  north,  and 
gently  sloping  to  the  south-west,  where  its  range  is 
between  300  and  400  feet..  Owing  to  the  excavations  of 
the  rivers,  their  banks,  especially  those  on  the  right,  have 
the  aspect  of  hilly  tracts,  while  low  plains  stretch  to  the 
left.  Low-lying  districts  with  some  marshes  and  sandy 
tracts  are  met  with  in  the  broad  valley  of  the  Dnieper, 
which  skirts  the  province  on  the  south-west.  Almost  the 
whole  of  the  surface  is  covered  with  Tertiary  deposits; 
chalk  appears  in  the  north-east,  at  the  bottom  of  deeper 
ravines.  The  government  touches  the  granitic  region  of 
the  Dnieper  only  in  the  south,  below  Krementchug.  Lime- 
stone with  dolerite  veins  occurs  in  the  isolated  hill  of 
Isatchek,  which  rises  above  the  marshes  of  the  Sula.  The 
whole  is  covered  with  a  layer,  20  to  '60  feet  thick,  of 
boulder  clay,  which,  again,  is  often  covered  with  a  thick 
sheet  of  loess.  Sandstone  (sometimes  suitable  for  grind- 
stones) and  limestone  are  quarried,  and  a  few  layers  of 
g)'psum  and  peat  bog  are  also  known  within  the  govern- 
ment. The  soil  is  on  the  whole  very  fertile,  with  the 
exception  of  some  sandy  tracts.  Poltava  is  watered  by 
the  numerous  tributaries  of  the  Dnieper,  which  flows  along 
its  border,  navigable  throughout.  Deep  sand  beds  inter- 
sected with  numberless  ravines  and  old  arms  of  the  river 
stretch  along  the  left  bank,  where  accordingly  the  settle- 
ments are  but  few.  It  is  joined  by  the  Sula,  the  Psiol, 
the  Vorskla,  the  Orel,  the  Trubezh,  and  several  othe| 
tributaries,"  none  of  them  navigable,  although  their  courses 
vary  from  150  to  270  miles  in  length.  Even  those  which 
ased  to  be  navigated  within  the  historical  period,  such  as ' 

Trubezh  and  Supoy,  are  now  drying  up,  while  the  others 

ire  being  partially  transformed  into  marshes.  Only  5  per 
jent.  of  the  total  area  is  under  wood ;  timber,  wooden 
wares,  and  pitch  are  imported. 

Tlie  population  in  1881  reached  2,418,870,  of  whom  217,800 
lived  in  towns.  The  great  majority  are  Little  Russians,  there 
being  only  20,000  Great  Russians,  less  than  1000  White  Russians, 
some  2000  Poles,  and  150O  Germans.  In  1865  the  Jews  were 
estimated  at  40,000.  Agriculture  is  the  chief  pursuit,  there  being 
7,451,000  acres  (60  per  cent,  of  the  total  area)  of  arable  land,  and 
the  average  yield  of  the  years  1870-77  being  6,302,000  quarters  of 
corn  and  703,200  quarters  of  potatoes.  The  crops  chiefly  grown 
are  wheat,  rye,  and  oats;  the  sunflower  is  largely  cultivated, 
especially  for  oil,,  and  the  culture  of  tobacco,  always  important, 
has  recently  made  a  very  ^reat  advance,   nov?  yielding  about 


200,000  cwts.  Kitchen  gardening,  the  culture  of  the  plum,  ami 
the  preparation  of  preserved  fniits  are  also  important  branches  of 
industiy.  At  Lubory,  where  an  apothecaries'  g:\rdcn  is  maintained 
by  the  crown,  the  collection  and  cultivation  of  medicinal  jilants  is 
also  a  specialty.  The  main  source  of  wealth  in  Poltava  always  lias 
been,  and  still  is,  its  cattle-breeding.  In  1881  there  were  209,000 
horses,  882,000  cattle,  1,820,000  sheep  (only  520,000  of  these,  as 
against  878,000  in  1862,  being  of  finer  breeds),  405,000  pigs,  and 
7000  goats.  Black  and  grey  sheepskins  arc  largely  exported,  as 
also  is  wool.  Some  of  the  wealthier  landowners  and  many  peasants 
now  rear  finer  breeds  of  horses. 

The  aggregate  value  of  the  manufactures  in  1879  was  £1,112,100, 
employing  in  their  production  3755  hands;  distilleries  hold  the 
leading  place  (£717,500),  after  which  come  (lour  mills  (£130,600), 
tobacco  works  (£79,700),  machine-m.iking  (£35,700),  tanneries 
(£27,700^,  saw-mills  (£20,000),  and  sugar-works(£l 0,900).  Wool 
is  exported  in  a  raw  state,  and  the  woollen  manufactures  amounted 
only  to  £5750.  In  the  villages  and  towns  several  domestic  trades 
are  carried  on,  such  as  the  ijreparation  of  sheepskins,  plain  woollen 
cloth,  leather,  boots,  and  pottciy. 

The  fair  of  Poltava  is  of  great  importance  for  tlie  whole  woollen 
trade  of  Russia;  leather,  cattle,  horses,  coarse  woollen  cloth,  sVins, 
and  various  domestic  wares  are  also  exchanged  for  manufactures 
imported  from  Great  Russia.  The  value  of  merchandise  brought 
to  the  fair  reaches  and  sometimes  exceeds  25,000,000  roubles. 
Several  other  fairs,  the  aggregate  returns  for  which  reach  more  than 
one-half  of  the  above,  are  held  at  Roinny  (tobacco),  Krementchug 
(timber,  corn,  tallow,  and  salt),  and  Kobelyaki  (sheepskins).  Corn 
is  exported  to  a  considerable  extent  to  the  west  and  to  Odessa,  as 
also  saltpetre,  spirits  of  wine,  wool,  tallow,  skins,  and  plain  woollen 
cloth.  The  navigation  on  the  Dnieper  is  interfered  with  by  want 
of  water,  and  becomes  active  only  in  the  south.  The  chief  traffic 
is  by  railway. 

The  government  is  divided  into  fifteen  districts,  the  chief  towns 
of  which  are— Poltava  (41,050  inhabitants),  Gadyatch  (9250), 
Khorol  (5175),  Kobelyaki  (13,150),  KonsUntinograd  (4320), 
Krementchug  (46,620  with  Krukofl'),  Lokhvitsa  (9320),  Lubnj 
(9820),  Mirgorod  (7750),  Perevaslafl'  (13,350),  Piiyatin  (5400), 
Priluki  (13,100),  Romny  (12,310),  Zolotonosha  (7180),  and  Zyen- 
koff(8360).  Glinsk  (3250) 'and  Gradijsk  (7850)  liave  also  muni- 
cipal institutions,  while  several  villages  and  towns  (Sorotijiintsy, 
Borispol,  Smyeloye,  Grun,  Ryeshetilovka,  &c.)  have  from  6500  to 
8000  inhabitants. 

Histonj. — At  the  dawn  of  Russian  history  the  region  now 
occupied  by  Poltava  was  inhabited  by  the  Syevcryanes.  As  early 
as  988  the  Russians  erected  several  towns  on  the  Sula  and  Trubezh 
for  their  protection  against  the  Petchenegs  and  Polovtsy,  who  held 
the  south-eastern  steppes.  Population  extended,  and  the  towns 
PereyaslafT,  Lubny,  Lukomy,  Priluki,  Piryatin,  Romny,  S:c.,  begin 
to  be  mentioned  in  the  11th  and  12tU  centoiies.  The  Jlongol 
invasion  destroyed  most  of  them,  and  for  two  centuries  afterwards 
they  totally  disappear  from  Russian  annals.  About  1331  Gcdimin 
annexed  the  so-called  "Syeversk  towns"  to  Lithuania,  and  on 
the  recognition  of  the  union  of  Lithuania  with  Poland  they  were 
included  in  the  united  kingdom  along  with  the  remainder  of  Little 
Russia.  In  1476  a  separate  principality  of  KieH'  under  Polish 
rule  and  Polish  institutions  was  formed  out  of  Little  Russia,  and 
remained  so  until  the  rising  of  Bogdan  Khmyelnitzkii  in  1654.  By 
the  Andrusofi'  treaty,  the  left  bank  of  the  Dnieper  being  ceded  to 
Russia,  Poltava  became  part  of  the  dominions  of  the  Zaporogian 
hetman,  nnd.was  divided  into  "regiments,"  six  of  which  (Poltava, 
PereyaslafT,  Priluki,  Gadyatch,  Lubny,  and  Mirgorod)  lay  within 
the  limits  of  the  present  government.  They  lost  their  independence 
in  1764,  and  serfdom  was  introduced  in  1783,  the  Poltava  redon 
becoming  part  of  the  governments  of  Kicft"  and  Ekaterinoslaff. 
The  present  government  was  instituted  in  1802. 

POLTAVA,  capital  of  the  above  government,  stands  on 
the  right  bank  of  the  Vorskla,  88  miles  by  rail  to  the 
west-south-west  of  Kharkoff.  ■  The  town  is  built  on  a 
plateau  which  descends  by  steep  slopes  nearly  on  all 
sides;  the  buildings  are  separated  by  large  yards  and 
gardens.  Several  suburbs,  inhabited  by  Cossacks,  whose 
houses  are  buried  amid  gardens,  and  a  German  colony, 
surround  the  town.  Water  is  scarce,  and  has  to  be 
brought  a  long  distance,  from  the  marshy  Vorskla.  The 
oldest  buildings  are  the  Krestovozdvijenskiy  monas- 
tery, erected  in  1650,  and  a  wooden  church  visited  by 
Peter  I.  after  the  battle  of  Poltava.  There  are  two 
lyceums  for  boys  and  girls,  a  "realschule,"  a  military 
school  for  cadets,  a  theological  seminary,  and  two  girls' 
colleges,  besides  Russian,  German,  and  Jewish  primary 
schools.  The  manufactures  are  insignificant  (£58,000  in 
1879) ;  the  principal  are  tobacco  works  (.£27,500)  and  a 


P  0  L  — P  0  L 


411 


tannery  (£14,400).  The  trade  derives  its  importance  from 
the  four  fairs  that  are  held  at  Poltava.  The  chief  of  these, 
in  July  (noticed  above),  is.  visited  by  30,000  to  40,000 
people.     In  1881  the  population  was  41,050. 

Poltava  is  mentioned  in  Russian  annals  in  1174,  under  the  name 
of  Ltava,  but  does  not  again  appear  iu  history  until  1430,  when, 
together  with  Glinsk,  it  was  given  by  Gedyniin  to  the  Tartar 
prince  Lcksada.  Under  Bogdau  Jihmyelnitzkii  it  was  the  chief 
town  of  the  Poltava  "  regiment."  Peter  I.  defeated  Charles  XII. 
iu  the  immediate  neighbourliood  on  June  27,  1709. 

POLY^'ENUS,  a  Macedonian,  lived  at  Rome  as  a 
rhetorician  and  pleader  in  the  2d  century.  'When  the 
Parthian  War  (162-165  a.d.)  broke  out,  Poly;enus,  too 
old  to  share  in  the  campaign,  dedicated  to  the  emperors 
Marcus  Aptoninus  and  Lucius  Verus  a  work,  still  extant, 
called  Sirategica  or  titrategemata,  an  historical  collection  of 
stratagems  and  maxims  of  strategy  written  in  Greek  and 
s'i'ung  together  in  the  form  of  anecdotes.  It  is  not  strictly 
cnnfined  to  warlike  stratagems,  but  includes  al.so  examples 
o!  wisdom,  courage,  and  cunning  drawn  from  civil  and 
political  life.  The  work  is  uncritically  and  negligently 
wvitten,  but  is  nevertheless  important  on  account  of  tHe 
extracts  it  has  preserved  from  histories  now  lost.  It  is 
divided  into  eight  books,  and  originally  contained  nine 
h:indred  anecdotes,  of  \yhich  eight  hundred  and  thirty-three 
are  extant.  Polya^nus  intended  to  -ivrite  a  history  of  the 
^'^rthian  War,  but  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  did  so. 
His  works  on  Macedonia,  on  Thebes,  and  on  tactics  (if 
ipdeed  this  be  not»identical  with  the  Sirategica)  are  lost. 

His  StraUqics  seems  to  have  been  highly  esteemed  by  tlie  Roman 
emperors  and  to  have  been  handed  down  by  them  as  a  sort  of  hcir- 
loom.  From  Borne  it  passed  to  Constantinople  ;  at  the  end  of  the 
9th  century  it  was  diligently  studied  by  Leo  VI.,  who  himself  wrote 
a  work.ou  tactics ;  and  in  the  middle  of  the  10th  century  Constautine 
I'orphyiogenitns  mentioned  it  as  one  of  the  most  valuable  books 
in  the  imperial  library.  It  was  used  by  Stobseus,  Siiidas,  and  the 
anonymous  author  of  the  work  :r«pl  aitiaruv  {Afi/lkot/rajihi  Grmcc, 
ed.  Westermann,  p.  323).  It  is  arranged  as  follows : — bks.  i.,  ii.,  iii., 
stratagems  occurring  in  Greek  history,  from  the  mythical  times 
of  Diojiysus  aud  Hercules  onward  ;  bk.  iv.,  stratagems  of  the 
Macedonian  kings  and  successors  of  Alexander  the  Great ;  bk.  v., 
stratagems  occurring  in  the  history  of  Sicily  and  the  Greek  islands 
and  colonies  ;  bk.  vi.,  stratagems  of  whole  peoples  (Carthaginians, 
La6edsemouians,  Argives,  kc),  together  with  some  of  individuals 
(Philopoemen,  Pyrrhus,  Hannibal,  Ac);  bk.  vii.,  stratagems  of 
the  barbarians  (Modes,  Persians,  Egyptians,  Thracians,  Scythians, 
Celts)  ;  bk.  viii.,  stratagems  of  Romans  and  women.  This  distri- 
bution is  not,  however,  observed  very  strictly. '  Of  the  negligence 
or  haste  with  which  the  work  was  written  there  are  many  instances  : 
e.g.,  he  confounds  Dionysius  the  elder  and  Dionysius  the  younger, 
Mithradates  satrap  of  Artaxer.\esa2id  llithradates  the  Great,  Scipio 
the  elder  and  Scipio  the  younger  ;  he  mixes  up  the  stratagems  of 
Coisar  aud  Pompey  ;  he  brings  into  immediate  counc^on  events 
which  were  totally  distinct ;  he  narrates  some  events  tv.-ico  over, 
with  vaiiations  according  to  tljo  different  authors  from  whom  ho 
draws.  ■  Though  ho  usually  abridges,  he  occasionally  amplifies 
arbitrarily  the  narratives  of  his  authorities.  Ho  never  mentions 
hi.i  autlioritics.  but  amongst  authors  still  extant  ho  used  Herodotus, 
Tbuoydidefj,  Xenophon,  I'olybius,  Diodorus,  Plutarch,  Frontiuus, 
and  Suetonius  ;  amongst  authors  of  whom  only  fragments  now 
remain  ho  drew  upon  CtesLis,  Kphoms,  Timajus,  Phylarchus,  and 
pot  haps  Aristagoras,  Dinon,  Heraclides,  Mcgasthcnes,  and  Nicolaus 
Da.nascenu3.  His  stylo  i.s  clear,  but  monotonous  and  inelegant. 
He  heaps  up  participles  and  falls  alternately  into  the  opposite  faults 
of  accumulating  and  totally  omitting  conjunctions.  A  glaring 
instance  of  these  faults  is  to  be  found  in  bk.  iii.  0,  33.  In  the 
forms  of  his  words  he  generally  follows  Attic  usage. 

nil  woik  was  Ajst  primed  In  a  Ljilln  tran«l«llon  by  Justui  Vullclua  (BnsrI. 
1519);  the  Greek  text  Wiis  that  cilllcd  by  Cnsiiubnn  (Lcydcn,  li83),  but  nuliily 
fnm  a  very  Intcilor  MS.  Korols  In  Mi  «llilr,n  (I'nrls,  1803)  cnneclcd  the  ti'xt 
In  imny  pUcea.  Tlio  bcjt  cdlllon  Is  lliut  of  Wolfllln  (Teubngr,  1800),wliooo  profaco 
mfi)  be  conaultcd  tvith  adviintaKc-. 

POLYANTHUS.     See  Primrose. 

POLYBIUS,  the  historian,  was  a  native  of  Megalo- 
polis in  Arcadia,  the  youngest  of  Greek  cities  (Paus. 
vii  I.  9),  but  one  which  played  an  honourable  part  in 
tlw  last'  days  of  Greek  freedom  as  a  stauticli  member  of 
Mi/i  Achseah  league.  Polybiu.s's  father  Lycortas  was  the 
in.' imate 'friend  of  Philopicmcn,  himself  also  a  citizen  of 
W'galopolis,  and  on  the  death  of  the  latter,  iu  182  B.C., 


succeeded  him  as  leader  of  the  league.  The  date  of 
Polybius's  birth  can  only  be  fixed  approximately.  He 
tells  us  himself  that  in  181  he  had  not  yet  reached  the 
age  (i  30  years,  Polyb.,  xxix.  9)  at  which  an  Achaean  was 
legally  capable  of  holding  office  (xxiv.  G).  We  learn 
from  Cicero  {Ad  Fain.,  v.  12)  that  he  outlived  the  Nu- 
mantine  war,  which  ended  in  132,'  and  from  Luciaii 
(Macrob.,  22)  that  he  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-two.  We 
may  therefore  follow  the  majority  of  authorities  in  placing 
Ms  birth  between  21 4  and  204  B.C.  Little  is  knov.n  of 
his  early  life.  As  the  son  of  Lycortas  he  was  naturally 
brought  into  close  contact  with  the  leading  men  of  the 
Achaean  league.  With  the  foremost  of  them,  Philopcemen, 
he  seems  to  have  been  on  intimate  terms.  Plutarch  («t 
7rpeo-/3.,  12)  describes  him  as  sitting  at  the  feet  of  the  great 
Achsan  soldier,  of  whom  Polybiu?  himself  always  writes 
in, terms  of  affectionate  admiration;  and  after  Philopoe- 
men's  tragic  death  in  Messenia  (182)  he  was  entrusted 
with  the  honourable  duty  of  foaveying  home  the  urn  iu 
which  his  ashes  had  been  deposited  (Plut.,  Fkil.,  21). 
The  next  year  (181)  wdtnessed  what  seems  to  have  been 
his  first  entry  into  political  life.  Together  with  his  father 
Lycortas  and  the  younger  Aratus,  he  was  appointed,  in 
spite  of  his  youth,  a  member  of  the  embassy  which  was 
to  visit  Ptolemy  Epiphanes,  king  of  Egypt,— a  mission, 
however,  which  the  sudden  death  of  Ptolemy  brought 
to  a  premature  end  (xxv.  7).  The  next  twelve  years 
of  his  life  are  a  blauk,  but  in  169  he  reappears  as  a 
trusted  adviser  of  the  Achaaans  at  a  difficult  crisis  in  the 
history  of  the  league.  In  171  war  had  broken  out 
between  Kome  and  the  Macedonian  king  Perseus,  and  the 
Achaean  statesmen  were  divided  as  to^  the  policy  to  be 
pursued  :  to  side  with  Macedon  would  have  been  suicidal ; 
Lycortas  himself  was  in  favour  of  neutrality,  but  there 
were  good  reasons  for  fearing  that  the  Roman  senate 
would  regard  neutrality  as  indicating  a  secret  leaning 
towards  Macedon,  and  indeed  both  Lycortas  and  Polybius 
himself  had  already  incurred  suspicion  at  Home  on  this 
ground.  Polybius  therefofe  declared  for  an  open  alliance 
with  Rome,  aud  his  views  were  adopted.  It  was  decided 
to  send  an  Achasan  force  to  cooperate  with  the  Roman 
general.  Polybius  was  selected  to  command  the  cavalry, 
and  v/as  at  once  despatched  to  the  Roman  camp  to, 
announce  the  decision  of  the  league  (xxviii.  10  sq.). 
The  Roman,  consul  declined  the  proffered  assistance,  but 
Polybius  accompanied  him  throughout  the  campaign,  aud 
thus  gained  his  first  insight  into  the  military  sj-stem  of 
Rome.  On  his  return  home  he  was  able  to  render  an 
important  service  to  his  countrymen  by  checking  the 
unauthorized  attempt  of  a  Roman,  officer  to  raise  troops 
in  Achaia  (xxviii.  13).  In  the  next  year  (168)  both 
Lycortas  and  Polybius  were  on  the  point  of  starting  at  the 
head  of  1200  Achajans  to  take  service  in  Egypt  against 
the  Syrians,  when  an  intimation  from  the  Roman  com- 
mander that  armed  interference  was  undesirable  put  a 
stop  to  the  expedition  (xxix.  23).  The  success  of  Rome 
in  tho  war-  with  Perseus  was  now  assured,  and  it  is 
possible  that  the  readiness  of  Lycortas  and  Polybius  to 
serve  abroad  was  partly  duo  to  a  belief  that  the  fate  of 
Macedon  must  soon  bo  shared  by  Achaia.  "  If  this  was  so, 
tho  belief  was  but  too  well  founded.  •  Tho  final  defeat  of 
Perseus  was  rapidly  followed  by  the  arrival  in  Achaia  of 
Roman  commissioners  charged  with  tho  duty  of  securely 
establishing  Roman  interests  there.  As  a  result  of  their 
proceedings  1000  of  tho  principal  Arluvans  were,  arrested 
and  carried  off  to  Italy.  Polybius  was  omong  the  number, 
but,  while  his  companions  were  condemned  .to  a  tedious 
incarceration  in  the  country  towns  of  Italy,  he  obtained 
permission  to  reside  in  Rome.  This  privilege  he  owed 
to  the  intluenco  of   /Emilius  I'aullus,  and    his    two  sous 


412 


POLYBIUS 


Scipio  aiTd  I'a'Sius  (xxxii.  9),  -wno  seem  to  liave  made  his 
acquaintance 'in  Macedonia.     At  any.  rate  Polybius  was 
received  into  iEmilius's  house,  and  became  the  instructor 
of   his  sons  (Appian,  Pun.,  132).      Between   Scipio,  the 
future   conqueror  of  Carthage,  and  himself  a  friendship 
soon  sprung  up  which  ripened  into  a  lifelong  intimacy. 
To  the  last  Scipio  so  constantly  relied  upon  the  advice  and 
counsel  of  Polybius  that  it  could  be  said  by  the  country- 
men of  the  latter  that  Scipio  never  failed  when  be  followed 
the  advice  of  his  friend  (Pausan.,  viii.  30).     To  Polybius 
himself  his  friendship  with  Scipio  was  not  merely  the  chief 
pleasure  of   his   life   but   of  inestimable  service  to  him 
throughout   his  career.     It  protected    him  from  interfer- 
ence, opened  to  him  the  highest  circles  of  Roman  society, 
and  enabled  him  to  acquire  a  personal  influence  with  the 
leading  men,  which  stood  hini  in  good  stead  when  he  after- 
wards came  forward  to  mediate  between  his  countrymen 
and  Rome.     It  placed  within  his  reach  opportunities  for  a 
close  study  of  Rome  and  the  Romans  such  as  had  fallen  to 
no  historian  before   him,  and  secured  him  the   requisite 
leisure  for  using  them,  while  Scipio's  liberality  more  than 
once  supplied  him  with  the  means  of  conducting  difficult 
and  costly  historical  investigations  (Pliny,  N.  H.,  v.  9).    In 
151,  after  seventeen  years  of  banishment,  the  few  surviv- 
ing exiles  were  allo^fed  to  return  to  Greece.     But  the  stay 
of  Polybius  in  Achaia  was  brief.     The  estimation  in  which 
he  was  held  at  Rome  is  clearly  shown  by  the  anxiety  of 
the  consul  Mamilius  (149)  to  take  him  as   his  adviser 
on  his  expedition  against  Carthage.     Polybius  started  to 
join  him,  but  broke  off  his  journey  at  Corcyra  on  learning 
that  the  Carthaginians  -were  inclined  to  ~yield  and  that 
war  was  unlikely  (xxxvi.  3).     But  when,  in  147,  Scipio 
himself  took  the  command  in  Africa,  Polybius  hastened 
to  join   him,  and   was  an  eye-witness   of  the   siege  and 
destruction  of  Carthage  (Appian,  Pwre.,  132).    During  his 
absence  in  Africa,    the   Achseans  had  made  a  desperate 
and  ill-advised  attempt  to  assert  for  the  last  time  their 
independence    of   Rome, — a   passionate   outbreak    which 
Polybius  had   dreaded,   and   which    his   presence   might 
have  prevented.     As  it  was  he  returned  in  146  to  find 
Corinth  in  ruins,  the  fairest  cities  of  Achaia  at  the  mercy 
of  the  Roman  soldiery,  and  the  famous  Achtean  league 
shattered  to  pieces  (Pol.  ap.  Strabo,  p.  381).     But  there 
was  still  work  to  be  done  that  he  alone  could  do.     AU 
the  influence  he  possessed  was  freely  spent  in  endeavour- 
ing to  shield  his  countrymen  from  the  worst  consequences 
of   their   rashness.     The   excesses   of   the   soldiery   were 
checked,   and   at  his   special   intercession   the  statues  of 
Aratus  and  Philopoemen  were  preserved  (xxxix.  14).     An 
even  moTe  difficult  task  was  that  entrusted  to  him  by  the 
Roman  authorities  themselves,  of  persuading  the  Achaeans 
to   acquiesce  m  the  new  regime  imposed  upon  them  by 
their  conquerors,   and  of  setting  the  new  machinery  in 
working  order.     With  this  work,  which  he  accomplished 
so  as  to  earn  the  heartfelt  gratitude  of  his  countrymen 
(xxxtx.  16),  his  public  career  seems  to  have  closed.     The 
rest  of  his  life  was,  so  far  as  we  know,  devoted  to  the 
great  history  which  is  the  lasting  monument  of  his  fame. 
He  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-two  of  a  fall  from  his  horse 
(Lucian,  Macroh.,  22). 

Of  the  forty  books'which  made  up  the  history  of  Polybius,  the 
first  five  sdone  have  come  down  to  us  in  a  complete  form  ;  of  the 
rest  we  have  only  more  or  less  copious  fragments.  But  as  to  the 
general  plan  and  scope  of  the  work  there  is  no  room  for  doubt, 
thanks  mainly  to  the  clearness  with  which  they  are  explained  by 
Polybius  himself.  The  task  which  he  set  himself  was  that  of 
making  plain,  for  the  instruction  of  his  own  and  future  generations, 
how  and  why  it  was  that  "all  the  known  regions  of  the  civilized 
world  had  fallen  under  the  sway  of  Rome  "  (iii.  1).  This  empire  of 
Rome,  unprecedented  in  its  extent  and  still  more  so  in  the  rapidity 
with  which  it  Tiad  been  acquired?  was  the  standing  wonder  of  the 
ag'^i  and  "who,"  he  exclaims  (i.  1),  "is  so  poor-spirited  or  indolent 


as  not  to  wish  to  know  by  what  means,  and  thanks  to  what  sort 
of  constitution,  the  Romans  subdued  the  world  in  something  less 
than  fifty-three  years  ?  "  These  fifty-three  years  are  those  between 
220  (the  point  at  which  th^work  of  Aratus  ended)  and  168  B.C., 
and  extend  therefore  from  the  outbreak  of  the  Hannibalic  war  to  the 
defeat  of  Perseus  at  Pydua.  To  this  period  then  the  main  portion 
of  his  history  is  devoted  from  the  third  to  the  thirtieth  book 
inclusive.  J5ut  for  clearness'  sake  he  prefixes  in  books  i.  and  ii.  sucli 
a  preliminary  sketch  of, the  eailier  history  of  Rome,  of  the  first 
Punic  War,  and  of  the  contemporary  events  in  Greece  and  Asia,  as 
will  enable  his  readers  more  fully  to  understand  what  follows. 
This  seems  to  have  been  his  original »plan,  but.  at  the  opening 
of  book  iii.,  written  apparently  after  146,  he  explains  that  he 
thought  it  desirable  to  add  some  account  of  tlie  manner  in  which 
the  Romans  exercised  the  power  they  had  won,  of  their  tempera- 
ment and  policy,  and  of  tho  final  catastrophe  which  destroyed 
Carthage  and  for  ever  broke  up  the  Achaean  league  (iii.  4,  5).  To 
this  appendix,  giving  the  history  from  168-146,  the  last  ten  books- 
are  devoted. 

Whatever  fault  may  be  found  with  Polybius,  there  can  be  no 
question  that  he  had  formed  a  high  conception  of  the  task  before 
him,  and  of  the  manner  in  which  it  should  be  executed.  He  lays 
repeated  stress  on  two  qualities  as  distinguishing  his  history  from 
the  ordinary  run  of  historical  compositions.  The  first  of  these,  its 
synoptic  character,  was  partly  necessitated  by  the  nature  of  the 
period  with  which  he  was  dealing.  The  interests,  fortunes,  and 
doings  of  all  the  various  states  fringing  the  biisin  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean had  become  so  inextricably  interwoven  that  it  was  no 
longer  possible  to  deal  with  each  of  them  in  isolation.  Tlie  his- 
torian must  deal  with  this  complex  web  of  affairs  as  a  whole,  if 
he  would  be  able  either  to  understand  or  to  explain  it  properly. 
Polybius  therefore  claims  for  his  history  that  it  will  take  a  compre- 
hensive view  of  the  whole  course  of  events  in  the  civilized  world, 
within  the  limits  of  the  period  with  which  it  deals  (i.  4).  In  doing 
so  he  marks  a  new  point  of  departure  in  historical  writing,  "  for  we 
have  undertaken  "  he  says  "  to  record,  not  the  affairs  of  this  or  that 
people,  like  those  who  have  preceded  us,  but  all  the  affairs  of  the 
known  world  at  a  certain  time."  In  other  words,  he  aims  at  placing 
before  his  readers  at  each  stage  a  complete  survey  of  the  field  ol 
action  from  Spain  in  the  West  to  Syria  and  Egypt  in  the  East. 
This  synoptic  method  proceeds  from  a  true  appreciation  of  what  ia 
now  called  the  unity  of  history,  and  to  Polybius  must  be  given 
the  credit  of  having  first  firmly  grasped  and  clearly  enforced 
a  lesson  which  the  events  of  his  own  time  were  especially  well  cal- 
culated to  teach.  Posterity  too  has  every  reason  to  be  grateful,  for. 
though,  as  will  be  seen  later,  this  synoptic  method  frequently  inter- 
feres with  the  symmetry  and  continuity  of  his  narrative,  yet  it  has 
given  us  such  a  picture  of  the  2d,  and  3d  centuries  before  Christ 
as  no  series  of  Special  narratives  could  have  supplied. 

The  second  quality  upon  which  Polybius  insists  as  distinguishing 
his  history  from  all  others  is  its  "pragmatic "  character.  It  deals, 
that  is,  with  .events  and  with  their  causes,  and  aims  St  an  accurate 
record  and  explanation  of  ascertained  facts.  This  "  pragmatic 
method  "  (ix.  2)  has  a  double  value.  First  of  all  it  makes  history 
intelligible  by  explaining  the  how  and  the  why ;  and,  secondly,  it  is 
only  when  so  written  that  history  can  perform  its  true  function  of 
instructing  and  guiding  those  who  study  it.  For  the  great  use  oi 
history  according  to  Polybius  is  to  contribute  to  the  right  conduct 
of  human  life  (i.  35),  by  supplying  a  storehouse  of  experiende  for 
the  assistance  of  those  who  will  use  it.  But  this  it  can  only  do  if 
the  historian  bears  in  mind  the  true  nature  of  his  task.  Above  all 
things  he  must  not  content  himself  with'mercly  writing  a  pleasant 
tale.  He  must  remember  that  the  historian  should  not  write  as 
the  dramatist  doss  to  charm  or  excite  his  audience  for  the  moment 
but  to  edify  and  instruct  all  serious  students  in  the  future  (il;  56). 
He  will  therefore  aim  simply  at  «xhibiting  events  in  their  true 
light,  setting  forth  "the  why  and  the  how"  in  each  case,  not  con- 
fusing causes  and  occasions,  or  dragging  in  old  wives'  fables,  prodi- 
gies, and  marvels  (ii.  16  ;  iii.  48).  He  will  omit  nothing  which  can 
help  to  explain  the  events' he  is  dealing  with  :  the  genius  and  tem- 
perament of  particular  peoples,  their  political  and  military  systems, 
the  characters  of  the  leading  men,  the  geographical  feature.'!  of  the 
country,  must  all  be  taken  into  account.  To  this  conception  of  the 
aim  and  methods  of  history  Polybius  is  on  the  wliolc  consistently 
faithfril  in  practice.  It  Is  true  that  his  anxiety  to  instruct  leads 
often  to  a  rather  wearisome  iteration  of  his  favourite  maxims,  and 
that  his  digressions,  such  as  that  on  the  military  art,  are  occa- 
sionally provokingly  long  and  didactic.  But  his  comments  and 
reflexions  are  for  the  most  part  sound  and  instructive  {e.g.,  those 
on  the  lessons  to  be  learnt  from  the  revolt  of  the  mercenaries  in 
Africa,  i.  65  ;  from  the  Celtic  raids  in  Italy,  ii.  35  ;  and  on  the 
Roman  character),- while  among  his  digressions  are  included  such 
invaluable  chapters  as  those  on  the  Roman  constitution  (book  vi.), 
the  graphic  description  of  Cisalpine  Gaul  (book  ii. ),  and  the  account 
of  the  rise  and  constitution  of  the  Achaean  league  (ii.  38  sq.). 
To  his  anxiety  again  to  trace  back  events  to  their  first  causes  We 
owe,  not  only  t'ne  careful  inquiry  (book  iii.)  into  the  origin  of  the 


P  O  L  Y  B  I  TJ  S 


413 


Second  Punic  War,  but  the  sketch  of  early  Roman  history  in  book  i., 
and  of  the  early  treaties  between  Rome  and  Curthage  in  iii.  22  sq. 
Among  the  many  defects  which  lie  censures  in  previous  historians, 
not  the  least  serious  in  his  eyes  are  their  inattention  to  the  political 
and  geographical  surroundings  of  the  history  (ii.  16  ;  iii.  36),  and 
their  neglect  duly  to  set  forth  the  causes  of  events  (iii.  6). 

Polybius  is  equally  explicit  as  regards  the  personal  qualifications 
necessary  for  a  good  historian,  and  in  this  respect  too  his  practice 
is  in  close  agreement  with  his  theory.     Ho  has  a  rrofound  distrust 
of  closet  students  and  a  profound  belief  in  the  v.ilue  of  a  personal 
knowledge  of  affairs.     Without  such  experience  a  writer  will,  ho 
says,  be  guilty  of  endless  blunders  and  omissions,  and  will  inevitably 
distort  the  true  relations  and  importance  of  events.     History,  ho 
asserts,  will  not  be  satisfactorily  written  until  either  men  of  affairs 
undertake  to  write  it,  not  as  a  piece  of  bye-work  but  as  an  honourable 
and  necessary  task,  or  until  intending  historians  realize  that  some 
actual  experience  of  affairs  is  indispensable  (xii.   28).     Such  ex- 
perience would  have  saved  accomplished  and  fluent  Greek  writers 
like  Timseus  from  many  of  their  blunders  (xii.  25a),  but  the  short- 
comings of  Roman  soldiers  and  senators  like  Q.  Fabius  Pictor  show 
that  it  is  not  enough  by  itself.     Equally  indispensable  is  careful 
painstaking   research.     All  available  evidence  must  be  collected, 
thoroughly  sifted,  soberly  weighed,  and,  lastly,  the  historian  must 
be  animated  by  a  sincere  love  of  truth  and  a  calm  impartiality. 
What  follows  where  any  or  all- of  the.se  conditions  and  qualifica- 
tions  are  absent  Polybius  illustrates  abundantly  in  his  frequent 
and  scathing  criticisms  on  previous  writers.     In  the  case  of  Timseus, 
against  whom  he  seems  to  cherish  a  peculiar  animosity,  nearly  all 
that  ro.maius  of  book  xii.  is  devoted  to  an  exposition  oi'  his  sliort- 
comings.     Q.   Fabius  Pictor  and  Philinus  are  charged  both  with 
ignorance  of  important  facts  and  with  partiality  (i.    14  ;  iii.   9), 
while  in  the  second  book  Phylarchus's  account  of  the  war  between 
the  Achaean  league  and  Cleomenes  of  Sparta  is  mercilessly  dissected. 
It  is  not  possible  here  to  discuss  the  question  whether  Polybius 
has  been  just  to  his  predecessors  ;  it'  is  more  important  to  consider 
how  far  he  himself  comes  up  to  the  standard  by  which  he  has 
tried  others.     In  his  personal  acquaintance   with  affairs,  in  the 
variety  of  his  experience,  and  in  his  opportunities  for  forming  a 
correct  judgment  on  events  he  is  without  a  rival  among  ancient 
historians.     A  great  jiait  of  the  period  of  which  he  treats  fell  within 
his  own  lifetime  (iv.  2).     He  may  just  have  remembered  the  battle 
of  Cynoscephalffi  (197).     Ho  must  have  been  sixteen  or  seventeen 
years  old  at  least  when  the  power  of  Antiochus  was  broken  at 
Magnesia  (189),  while  of  the  events  from  168-146  he  was,  as  he 
tells  us  (iii.  4),  not  only  an  eye-witness  but  a  prominent  actor  in 
them  all.     As  the  sou  of  Lycortas  he  lived  from  his  early  youth 
in  immediate  contact  with  the  foremost"  statesmen  of  the  Pelopon- 
nesus, while  between  181  and  168  he  was  himself  actively  engaged 
in  the  military  and  political  affairs  of  the  Achaean  league.     The 
period  of  his  exile  in  Rome  served  to  add  largely  to  his  stores  of 
experience  :  he   was  able   to  study  at  close  quarters  the  working 
of  the   Roman   constitution,  and  the  peculiarities  of  the  Roman 
temperament;  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Roman  senators,  and 
became   the   intimate  friend  of   the   greatest  Roman  of  the  day. 
Lastly,  ho  was  able  to  survey  with  his  own  eyes  the  field  on  which 
the  great  struggle  between  Rome  and  Hannibal  was  fought  out. 
Ho  left  Rome  only  to  witness  the  crowning  triumph  of  Roman 
arms  in  Africa,  and  to  gain  a  practical  acquaintance  with  Roman 
methods   of  government   by  assisting   in   the   settlement   of   his 
own  beloved  Achaia.      When,  in  146,  his  public  life  closed,  ho 
completed  his  preparation  of  himself  for  his  great  work  by  labori- 
ona  investigations  of  archives  and  monuments,  and  by  a  careful 
personal  examination   of  historical   sites   and   scenes.     If   to  all 
this  wo  add  that  he  was  deeply  read  in  the  learning  of  his  day 
(filian.  Tact,  i.,    iviip  wo\vfi.aHii!),  above   all  in  the  writings   of 
earlier  historians,  we  must  confess  that,  as  at  once  scholar,  states- 
man, soldier,  and  man  of  the  world,  ho  was  above  all  others  fitted 
to  write  the  history  of  the  age  of  transition  in  which  he  lived. 

Of  Polybiua'a  anxiety  to  get  at  the  truth  no  better  ]iroof  can  bo 
given  than  his  conficiontious  investigation  of  original  documents 
and  monuments,  and  his  careful  study  of  geograj)hy  and  topography 
^ — both  of  them  points  in  which  his  predecessors,  as  well  as  his  suc- 
cessor Livy,  conspicuously  failed.  Polybius  is  careful  constantly 
jto  remind  us  that  ho  writes  for  those  who  are  (piKoixaSd!,  lovers 
lof  knowledge,  with  whom  truth  is  the  first  consideration.  He 
closely  studied  the  bronze  tablets  in  Rome  on  which  were  inscribed 
the  early  treaties  concluded  between  Romans  and  Carthaginians 
(see  for  these  liliein.  Mxls.,  32,  614;  iii.  22-26).  He  quotes  the 
actual  language  of  tho  treaty  which  ended  the  First  I'unic  War 
(i.  62),  and  of  that  between  Hannibal  and  Philip  of  Macedon 
jvii.  9).  In  xvi.  16  ho  refers  to  a  document  which  he  had  person- 
ally inspected  in  tho  archives  at  Rhodes,  and  in  iii.  33  to  the 
monument  on  tho  Lacinian  promontory,  recording  tho  number  of 
Hannibal's  forces.  According  to  Dionysins,  i.  17,  he  got  his  date 
for  the  foundation  of  Rome  from  a  tablet  in  tho  pontilie.al  archives. 
As  instances  of  hia  careful  attention  to  geography  and  topography 
WO  have  not  only  the  fact  of  his  widely  extended  travels,  from  the 


African  coast  and  the  Pillars  of  Hercules  in  the  west  to  tho  Euxine 
and  the  coasts  of  Asia  Minor  in  the  east,  but  also  the  geographical 
and  topographical  studies  scattered  throughout  his  history,  sucli  as 
the  description  of  Sicily  (i.  42),  of  Cisalpine  Gaul  (ii.  14),  and  of  the 
Euxine  (iv.  10),  the  discussion  of  Hannibal's  route  over  the  Alps, 
and  the  graphic  picture  of  the  scene  of  tho  battle  of  Lake  Trasimene. 
Lastly,  to  judge  from  its  estant  fragments,  book  xxxiv.  seems  to 
have  boen  actually  a  treatise  on  geograjihy  in  general. 

Next  to  the  duty  of  original  reseanh,  Polybius  ranks  that  of 
impartiality.  Some  amount  of  bi.as  in  lavonr  of  one's  own  country 
may,  he  thinks,  be  pardoned  as  natural  (xvi.  14)  ;  but  it  must  not 
be  gratified  at  the  expense  of  truth.  It  is  uni>ardonable,  ho 
says,  for  the  historian  to  set  anything  whatever  above  the  truth. 
And  on  the  whole  Polybius  must  be  allowed  hero  again  to  have 
practised  what  he  preached.  It  is  true  that  his  own  Ryni)iathie9 
and  antipathies  are  not  entirely  concealed.  His  nlleetion  lor  and 
pride  in  Arcadia  appear  in  more  than  one  passage  (iv.  20,  21), 
as  also  does  his  dislike  of  the  .^Eolians  (ii.  45;  iv.  3,  16).  His 
treatment  of  Aratus  and  Philoiiccmen,  the  heroes  of  the  Achiean 
league,  and  of  Cleomcnes  of  Sparta,  its  most  constant  enemy,  is 
perhaps  open  to  severer  criticism— it  is  at  any  rate  certain  that 
Cleomenes  does  not  receive  full  justice  at  his  hands.  Similarly  his 
views  of  Rome  and  the  Romans  may  have  been  influenced  by  his 
firm  belief  in  the  necessity  of  accepting  the  Roman  supremacy  as 
inevitable,  and  by  his  intimacy  with  Scipio,  the  head  of  the  great 
patrician  house  of  the  Cornelii.  He  has  evidently  a  dt'cp  admira- 
tion for  the  great  republic,  for  her  well-balanced  constitution,  for 
her  military  system,  and  for  the  character  of  licr  citizens.  He 
shares  too  the  dislike  of  the  Roman  aristocracy  for  such  men  of  the 
people  as  Flamiuius  (ii.  21)  and  Varro  (iii.  116).  But,  just  as  his 
patriotism  does  nut  blind  him  to  the  faults  and  follies  of  his 
countrymen  (xxxviii.  4,  5,  6),  so  he  does  not  scruple  to  criticize 
Rome.  Ho  notices  the  incipient  degeneracy  of  Rome  after  146 
(xviii.  35).  He  endeavours  to  hold  the  balance  evenly  between 
Rome  and  Carthage  ;  he  strongly  condemns  the  Roman  occupation 
of -Sardinia  as  a  breach  of  faith  (iii.  28,  31);  and  he  does  full 
justice  to  the  splendid  generalship  of  Hannibal.  Moreover,  wdiether 
his  liking  for  Rome  was  excessive  or  not,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  he  has  sketched  tho  Roman  character  in  a  masterly  fa.shion. 
Their  ambition,  their  invincible  confidence  in  themselves,  their 
dogged  courage  which  made  them  more  dangerous  the  harder  they 
were  pressed,  and  their  devotion  to  the  state  are  all  clearly  brought 
out.  Nor  does  he  show  less  appreciation  of  their  practical  sagacity, 
their  readiness  to  learn  from  other  peoples,  their  quickness  in 
adapting  their  tactics  both  in  war  and  diplomacy  to  changing 
circumstances,  and  their  mastery  of  the  art  of  ruling. 

His  interest  in  the  study  of  character  and  his  skill  in  its  delinea- 
tion are  everywhere  noticeable.  He  believes,  indeed,  in  an  over- 
ruling Fortune,  which  guides  tho  course  of  events.  It  is  Fortune 
which  has  fashioned  anew  tho  face  of  the  world  in  his  own  time 
(iv.  2),  which  has  brought  the  whole  civilized  world  into  subjection 
to  Rome  (i.  4);  and  the  Roman  empire  itself  is  the  most  marvellous 
of  her  works  (viii.  4).  But  under  FortVino  not  only  political  and 
geographical  conditions  but  the  characters  and  temperaments  of 
nations  and  individuals  play  their  part.  Fortune  seleets  tho  best 
instruments  for  her  purposes.  The  Romans  had  been  fitted  by  their 
previous  struggles  for  the  conquest  of  the  world  (i.  63)  ;  they  were 
chosen  to  punish  the  treachery  of  Philip  of  Macedon  (xv.  4) ;  ami 
the  greatest  of  them,  Scipio  himself,  Polybius  regards  as  theespecif  1 
favourite  of  fortune  (xxxii.  15;  x.  5). 

Tho  praiso  which  the  matter  of  Polybius's  history  deserves  cannot 
be  extended  to  its  form,  and  in  this  respect  he  contrasts  sharply 
with  Livy,  whose  consummate  skill  as  a  narrator  has  given  him  a 
po|iularity  which  has  been  denied  to  Polybius.  Some  of  the  most 
serious  defects  which  spoil  Polybius's  history  as  a  work  of  art  aro 
due  to  an  over-rigid  adherence  to  those  views  of  tho  nature  of  tho 
task  before  him  which  have  been  described  above.  His  laudable 
desire  to  be  comprehensive,  and  to  present  a  picture  of  the  whole 
political  situation  at  each  important  moment,  is  fatal  to  tho  con- 
tinuity of  his  narrative.  Tho  reader  is  Imrried  hither  and  thither 
from  one  part  of  the  field  to  another  in  a  manner  at  once  wearisome 
and  confusing.  Thus  the  thrilling  story  of  the  Second  Punic  Wor 
is  broken  in  upon  by  digressions  on  tho  contemporary  affairs  in 
Greece  and  in  Asia.  More  serious,  however,  tlian  this  excessive 
love  of  synchronism  is  Polybius's  almost  pedantic  anxiety  to  edify 
and  to  instruct.  For  grace  and  elegance  of  composition,  and  for 
the  artistic  presentation  of  events,  lie  has  a  hardly  concealed  con- 
tempt. Hence  a  general  and  almost  studied  carelessness  of  effect, 
which  mars  his  whole  work.  On  the  other  hand  ho  is  never  weary  of 
preaching.  His  favourite  theories  of  tho  nature  and  aims  of  histor)', 
of  tho  distinction  between  the  universal  and  special  histories,  of 
tho  duties  of  an  histonan,  sounil  os  most  of  them  are  in  themselves, 
are  enforced  again  and  again  at  undue  length  and  with  wearisome 
iteration.  No  opportunity  is  lost  of  pointing  (Uit  the  lesson  to  be 
learnt  from  tho  events  described,  and  more  thau  once  the  reader  is 
irritated,  and  tho  effect  of  a  erajihic  picture  is  spoilt,  by  obtrusive 
moralizing.    Nor,  lastly,  is  Polybius's  style  itself  such  as  to  compcn- 


414 


I?  O  L  —  P  O  I. 


sate  for  these  defects.  It  is,  indeed,  oftea  impressive  from  the  evident 
earnestness  and  sincerity  of  the  writer,  and  from  his  sense  of  the 
gravity  of  his  subject,  and  is  unspoilt  by  rhetoric  or  conceit.  It  has 
about  it  the  ring  of  reality  ;  tlie  language  is  sometimes,  pithy  and 
vigorous  ;  and  now  and  then  we  meet  with,  apt  metaphors,  such  as 
tliose  borrowed  from  boxing  (i.  57),  fiom  coek-lighting  (i,  68),  from 
draughts  (i.  84).  But,  in  spite  of  these  redeeming  features,  the 
prevailing  baldness  of  Polybius's  style  excludes  him  from  the  first 
rank  among  classical  writers  ;  and  it  is  impossible  to  quarrel  with 
the  veidict  pronounced  by  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  who  places 
him  among  those  authors  of  later  times  who  neglected  the  graces  of 
style,  and  who  paid  for  their  neglect  by  leaving  behind  them  works 
"which  no  one  was  patient  enough  to  read  through  to  the  end" 
(irtpl  ffvvBf^.  oyofiaTuy,  4). 

It  is  to  the  value  and  variety  of  his  matter,  to  his  critical  insight, 
breadth  of  view,  and  wide  research,  and  not  least  to  the  surpassing 
importance  and  interest  of  the  period  with  which  he  deals,  that 
Polybius  owes  his  place  among  the  writers  of  history.  What  is 
known  as  to  the  fortunes  of  his  histories,  and  the  reputation  they 
enjdjj'ed,  fully  bears  out  this  conclusion..  The  silence  respecting 
him  maintained  by  Qiiintilian  and  by  Lncian  may  reasonably  be 
taken  to  imply  their  agreement  witli  Dionysius  as  to  his  merits 
as  a  master  of  style.  On  the  other  hand,  Cicero  {Dc  Off.,  iii.  32) 
describes  him  as  "  bonus  auctor  in  prirais  " ;  in  the  JDc  RepuUica 
(ii.  14)  he  praises  highly  his  accuracy  in  matters  of  chronology, 
"nemo  in  exquirendis  temporibus  diligentior " ;  and  Cicero's 
younger  contemporary,  Marcus  Brutus,  was  a  devoted  student  of 
Polybius,  and  was  engaged  on  the  eve  of  the  battle  of  Pharsalia  in 
compiling  an  epitome  of  his  histories  (Suidas,  s.v. ;  Plutarch,  Brut., 
4).  Livy,  however,  notwithstanding  the  extent  to  which  lie  used 
his  writings  (see  LiVT),  speaks  of  him  in  such  qualified  terms  as  to 
suggest  the  idea  that  his  strong  artistic  sensibilities  had  been 
wounded  by  Polybius's  literary  defects.  He  has  nothing  better  to 
say  of  him  than  that  he  is  "  by  no  means  contemptible  "  (x.xx.  45), 
and  "not  an  untrustworthy  author"  (.xxxiii.  10).  Posidonius  jind 
Strabo,  both  of  them  Stoics  like  Polybius  himself,  are  said  to  have 
WTitten  continuations  of  his  history  (Suidas,  s.v.;  Sti-abo,  p.  515). 
Arrian  iu  the  early  part  of  the  2d  and  .ffilian  in  the  3d  century 
both  speak  of  him  with  respect,  though  with  reference  mainly  to 
his  excellence  as  an  authority  on  the  art  of  war.  In  addition  to 
his  Histories  Polybius  was  the  author  of  the  following  smaller 
works: — a  life  of  Philopoemen  (Polyb.,  x.  24),  a  history  of  the 
Numantine  War  (Cic,  AdFam.,  v.  12),  a  treatise  on  tactics  (Polyb., 
ix.  20;  Arrian,  Tactica;  .lElian,  Tad.,  i.).  The  geographical 
treatise,  referred  to  by  Geminus,  is  possibly  identical  with  the 
thirty-fourth  book  of  the  Histories  (Schweigh.,  Prasf.,  p.  184. 

The  complete  books  (t.-v.)  of  the  Histories  were  fiist  printed  in  a  Latin  ti anala- 
tioa  by  Nicholas  Perottl  In  1473.  The  date  of  the  first  Greelt  edition,  that  by 
ObsopsBus,  is  1530.  For  a  full  account  of  these  and  of  later  editions,  as  well  as 
of  tlie  extant  MSS.,  see  Schweighauser's  Preface  to  his  edition  of  Puiybiua.  Oui- 
knowledge  of  the  contents  of  the  fragmentary  boolis  is  derived  partly  from 
quotations  in  ancient  writers,  but  ninlniy  from  two  collections  of  excerpts;  one, 
probably  the  woi-k  of  a  late  Byzantine  compiler,  was  first  printed  at  Basel  in  1549 
and  contains  extracts  from  books  vl.-xviii.  (trepi  irpcff/Seiiuv,  irepi  apenj^  »eai 
KOKias) ;  tlie  other  consists  of  two  fragments  from  the  "select  passages"  from 
Greek  historians  compiled  by  the  directions  of  Constantlne  Porphyrogenltus  in 
the  10th  century.  To  these  must  be  added  the  Vatican  excerpts  edited  by 
Cardinal  Mai  in  the  pi'esent  century. 

Tlie  following  are  the  more  important  modern  editions  of  Polybins  ; — Emesti  (3 
vols.,  17C3-64);  Schweigliauser  (8  vols.,  1793.  and  Oxford,  1823);  Bekker  (2  vols., 
1844);  L.  Dindorf  (4  vols.,  18fi6-G8,  2d  ed.,Teubner,  1S32);  Hultsch  (4  vols..  1S67- 
71).  For  the  literature  of  the  subject,  see  Engelmaun,  Biblioth.  Script.  Class.: 
Script.  Orwci  (pp.  646-C50,  8th  cd.,  Lelpsic,  1880).  (H.  F.  P.) 

POLYCARP.  The  importance  of  Polycarp,  bishop  of 
Smyrna,  for  the  earliest  period  of  church  history  arises 
from  his  historical  position.  He  was  on  the  one  hand  a 
disciple  of  John  and  other  apostles  and  disciples  of  Jesus ; 
on  the  other  hand  he  was  the  teacher  of  Irenseus,  the 
first  of  the  catholic  fathers.^  In  his  letter  to  Florinus, 
Trenasus  (ap.  Euseb.,  HJH.,  v.  20)  says : — 

' '  I  saw  you  when  I  was  yet,  as  a  boy,  in  Lower  Asia  with  Polycarp. 
....  I  could  even  now  point  out  the  place  where  the  blessed  Poly- 
carp sat  and.  spoke,  and  describe  his  going  out  and  coming  in,  his 
manner  of  life,  his  personal  appearance,  the  addresses  he  delivered  to 
the  multitude,  how  he  spoke  of  his  intercourse  with  John  and  with 
the  others  who  had  seen  the  Lord,  and  how  he  recalled  their  words. 
And  everything  that  he  had  heard  from  them  about  the  Lord,  about 
His  miracles  and  His  teaching,  Polycarp  told  us,  as  one  who  liad  re- 
ceived it  from  those  who  had  seen  the  Word  of  Life  with  their  own 
eyes,  and  all  this  in  complete  harmony  with  the  Scriptures.  To 
this  I  then  listened,  through  the  mercy  of  God  vouchsafed  to  me, 
with  all  eagerness,  and  wrote  it  not  on  paper  but  in  my  heart,  and 
still  by  the  grace  of  God  I  ever  bring  it  into  fresh  remembrance." 

These  are  priceless  words,  for  they  establish  a  chain  of 
tradition  (Jesus,  John,  Polycarp,  Irenseus)  which  is  without 
a  ijarallel  in  history.     It  is  all  the  more  to  be  regretted  that 

'  Iren.,  iii.  3,  4. 


Irenseus  in  his  great  work''  has  said  so  little  of  Polyca'^), 
and  that  neither  Poly  crates  of  Ephesus^  nor  Terttilliigi* 
mentions  anything  of  importance. 

The  sources  for  the  life  and  activity  of  Polycarp  are  as 
follows: — (1)  a  few  notices  of  Irenoeus ;  (2)  the  epistle  of 
Polycarp  to  the  church  at  Philippi ;  (3)  the  epistle  of 
Ignatius  to  Polycarp ;  (4)  the  epistle  of  the  church  at 
Smyrna  to  the  church  at  Philomelium,  giving  an  account 
of  the  martyrdom  of  Polycarp.  Since  these  authorities 
have  all  been  called  in  question,  and  some  of  them  entirely 
rejected,  by  recent  criticism,  it  is  necessary  to  say  a  few 
words  about  each  of  them. 

1.  Of  the  statements  of  Irenajus,  those  contained  in  the  letter 
to  Victor  and  in  the  large  work  have  passed  unchallenged.  The 
letter  to  Florinus,  however,  which  places  Polycai'p  in  unequivocal 
connexion  with  the  apostle  John,  has  been  disL-iedited,  because,  it 
is  alleged,  John  never  was  in  Asia  Jlinor.  But  this  denial  of 
John's  residence  in  Asia  Minor  is  itself  a  piece  of  critical  arbi- 
ti'ariness,  and  to  assert  that  the  epistle  to  Florinus  is  siuuious  is 
a  desperate  resource.  The  only  argument  which  can  be  adduci-d 
against  it  with  any  sort  of  plausibility  is  the  fact  that  in  his  great 
work  Irenaeus  does  not  satisfy  the  expectatious  which  the  letter  to 
Florinus  is  apt  to  raise  in  a  modern  reader.  It  is  cert;iiiily  the 
case  that  he  tells  us  very  little  about  Polycarp  and  still  less  about 
John.  But  statements  from  the  mouth  of  Polycarp  of  the  very 
kind  which  the  letter  to  Florinus  would  lead  ns  to  expect  ate  not 
altogether  wanting  in  the  great  work  of  Irena;ub  (see  iii.  3,  4  ;  ii. 
22,  5  ;  V.  30,  1)'  ;  and  that  they  are  so  few  is  accounted  for  by  the 
plan  aud  object  of  the  treatise.  The  facts  mentioned  by  hvmeus, 
therefore,  cannot  be  set  aside,  although  the  assertion  that  Polycarp 
was  appointed  bishop  of  the  church  at  Smyrna  by  the  apostles  (iii. 
3,  4)  is  probably  a  deduction  from  the  Catholic  theory  of  the  origin 
of  the  episcopate.  If  it  was  once  understood  that  Polycarp  had 
seen  apostles,  the  necessary  inference  for  the  time  of  Iienajus  was 
that  he  had  received  his  office  fioin  the  hands  of  the  apostles. 

2.  Under  the  name  of  Polycarp  we  possess,  in  a  Latin  transla- 
tion, a  complete  letter  to  the  church  at  Philipiji,  which  was  first 
published  by  Faber  Stapulensis  in  1498.  Of  the  Greek  orighial, 
which  was  first  edited  by  Halloix  inl633,,unfortuuately  only  three- 
fourths  has  been  preserved.^  Since  Iren?eus  (iii.  3,  4)  expressly 
mentions  and  commends  a  letter  of  Polycarp  to  the  church  of 
Philippi,  since  Eusebius  (H.  JE,  iii.  36)  was  acquainted  with  the 
epistle  as  we  have  it  and  makes  extracts  from  it,  and  since  Jerome 
(Ve  Fir.  HI.,  xvii.)  testifies  that  in  his  time  it  was  publicly  read 
in  the  Asiatic  churches,  the  extemal  evidence  in  its  favour  is  as 
strong  as  could  be  desired.  But  the  internnl  eviilence  is  also  very 
strong.  The  occasion  of  the  letter  was  a  case  of  embezzieuicnt,  the 
guilty  individual  being  a  presbyter  at  Philippi.  It  shows  a  fine 
combination  of  mildness  with  severity  ;  the  language  is  simple 
but  powerful ;  and,  while  there  is  undoubtedly  a  lack  of  original 
ideas,  the  author  shows  remarkable  skill  in.  weaving  togcthfi 
pregnant  sentences  and  impressive  warnings  selected  from  the 
apostolic  epistles  and  the  first  epistle  of  Clement.  There  is  no 
trace  of  any  tendency  beyond  the  immediate  purpose  of  maintain- 
ing the  true  Christian  life  in  the  chnrch,  and  warning  it  agaiint 
covetousncas  and  against  an  unbiotheily  spirit.  In  these  ciicuiii- 
stances  it  would  certainly  never  have  occurred  to  any  one  to  doubt 
the  genuineness  of  the  epistle,  or  to  suppose  that  it  had  been  inter- 
polated, but  for  the  fact  that  in  several  passages  reference  is  made 
to  Ignatius  and  his  epistles.  In  point  of  fact  tlie  historical  situation 
which  is  presujiposed  by  the  epistle  is  this,  that  Ignatius,  on  his 
last  journey  to  Kome,  has  just  passed  through  Philippij  and  that 
his  letters  are  circulating  in  the  churches.  Hence  all  those  scholara 
who  hold  the  seven  Ignatian  epistles  to  he  spurious  are  compelled 
to  regard  the  epistle  of  Polycaip  as  also  a  forgery,'  or  at  least  as 
having  been  largely  interpolated.*  The  interpolation  hypothesis, 
however,  breaks  down  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  first  epistle  of 
Clement  is  quoted  even  in  those  passages  which  are  alleged  to  bo 
interpolated  ;  and  besides  it  is  inconsistent  w ith  the  veiy  obvious 
arrangement  and  unity  of  the  composition.     On  the  other  hand  tho 

■  The  lost  writings  of  Irenaeus  may  have  contained  fuller  infonvta- 
tion  ;  see  the  clote  of  the  Martyrium  Polycurpi  in  the  Cod.  Mosq.,  MiJ 
the  letter  of  Irent-us  to  Victor  in  Eusebius  (H.  A'.,  v.  24). 

3  Euseb.,  U.  E.,  v.  24,  4'.  *  Dc  Prasscr.  User.,  32. 

'  Cf.  *'  Prcsbyteroruni  reliquice  ab  Irenieo  servata?,"  in  the  PAr. 
App.  0pp.,  ed.  Gebhardt,  Harnack,  Zahn,  vol.  i.  2,  p.  105  sj. 

^  All  the  Greek  MSS.  are  derived  from  a  single  archetype,  in  wliicli 
the  epistle  of  Barnabas  followed  that  of  Polycarp,  but  a  sheet  of  f  ou"- 
leaves  had  been  torn  out,  so  that  tlie  end  of  Polycarp's  epistle  and  tlie 
beginning  of  that  of  Barnabas  are  missiug. 

'  So,  for  example,  Lipsius,  Hilgenfekl,  and  others. 

8  So  Dallaius,  first  of  all,  tlien  Buuseii  and  Ritschl  [Enlstehung  dtr 
altkalhol.  Kirchc,  2d  ed.,  p.  034  s?.). 


POLYCARP 


41  o 


assumption  that  the  whole  work  is  a  fernery  is  untenable— (1) 
becaus*^  in  that  case  we  shouM  expect  that  its  tone  and  language' 
and  tendency  would  be  in  keeping  with  the  Ignatian  epistles, 
which  is  Tery  far  from  being  the  fact,  and  (2)  because  we  must 
assume  that  Ircnaeus  himself  had  been  deceived  by  .-i  forged  epistle 
of  Polycarp,  or  else  that  he  had  read  the  genuine  epistle,  but  in 
the  course  of  tlie  3d  century  it  had  been  sup|ilanted  oy  a  spurious 
substitute.  Either  of  these  suppositions  is  ey-tremely  improbable, 
and,  since  internal  marks  of  forgery  are  altogether  absent,  we  must 
rather  reverae  the  argument  and  say  that  the  epistle  of  Polycarp  is 
a  very  important  piece  of  evidence  for  the  historical  existence  of  a 
bishop  of  An tioch  named  Ignatius,  for  his  journey  to  martyrdom 
St  Rome,  and  for  the  fact  that  on  this  journey  he  wrote  several 
lettei'S.  In  these  circumstances  it  is  very  desirable  that  wo  should 
be  able  to  hx  the  .exact  date  of  Polycarp's  epistle.  This  unfortu- 
nately is  impossible,  owing  to  the  colourless  character  of  the 
writing.  Still  it  is  noteworthy  that  there  is  not  a  single  trace  of 
the  time  of  Trajan,  that  on  the  contrary  an  expression  in  the 
seventh  chapter  seems  to  presuppose  the  activity  of  JIarcion.'  In 
that  case  the  letter  cannot  have  been  written  before  140  A.ri.'  The 
Ignatian  epistles  and  the  history  of  Ignatius  furnish  no  argument 
to  the  contrary,  for  the  idea  that  Ignatius  was  martyred  under 
Trajan  cannot  bo  traced  higher  than  the  3d  century,"  while  the 
chronological  indications  in  the  Ignatian  epistle"^  themselves  point 
to  a  later  period.  The  epistle  of  Polycarp  is  of  more  importance 
for  the  Ignatian  problem  than  for  Polycarp  himself.  It  conveys 
no  distinct  impression  of  his  individuality,  beyond  the  fact  that 
the  writer  of  this  letter  lived  wholly  in  the  ideas  of  the  older 
generation  and  of  the  apostles,  and  would  admit  no  addition  to 
their  teaching.  That,  however,  is  a  feature  which  harmonizes 
admirably  so  far  as  it  goes  with  the  description  which  Irenasus 
gives  of  Polycarp  in  the  letter  to  Florinus.  On  accouut  of  its 
dependence  on  older  epistles,  the  epistle  of  Polycarp  is  of  great 
value  for  the  history  of  the  canon.  For  the  constitutional  history 
of  the  church  also  it  contains  valuable  materials :  but  for  the 
history  of  dogma  it  is  of  little  use. 

3.  The  epistle  of  Ignatius  to  Polycarp  is  an  important  docu- 
ment, whether  it  is  genuine  or  not.  It  belongs  at  any  rate  to  the 
2d  ceutury,  so  that  even  if  it  were  spurious  it  would  at  least  show 
what  conception  of  the  bishop's  character  was  then  prevalent. 
Polj'carp  appears  in  the  letter  as  a  man  of  a  passive  disposition, 
with  too  little  energy  and  decision  for  the  vehement  Ignatius. 
The  admonitions  which  Ignatius  thinks  fit  to  bestow  on  Polycarp 
(c.  1-6)  are  surprising,  when  we  remember  that  they  are  addressed 
to  an  old  and  venerable  man.  But  Ignatius  was  writing  under  the 
consciousness  of  impending  martyrdom,  and  evidently  felt,  with 
all  his  aft'ccted  modesty,  that  this  gave  him  a  right  to  censure  the 
churches  and  bishops  of  Asia,  To  pronounce  the  epistle  spurious 
on  account  of  its  tone  is  hazardous,  because  it  is  difficult  to  imagine 
how  it  could  have  entered  the  head  of  a  forger  to  subject  the 
honoured  Polycarp  to  such  treatment  at  the  hamls  of  Ignatius. 

i.  The  most  valuable  source  for  the  history  of  Polycarp  is  the 
letter  of  the  church  in  .Smyrna  about  his  martyrdom.  Eusebius 
lias  preserved  the  greater  part  of  this  epistle  in  his  Church  Mi-ilory 
(iv.  15);  but  we  ])ossess  it  entire  with  various  concluding  observa- 
tions in  several  Greek  mannscripts,  and  also  in  a  Latin  transla- 
tion.' The  epistle  gives  a  minute  description  of  the  persecution 
in  Smyrna,  of  the  last  days  of  Polycarp,  and  of  his  trial  and 
martyrdom;  and,  as  it  conbuns  many  instructive  details,  and 
jirofesses  to  have  been  written  not  long  after  the  events  to  which 
it  refers,  it  has  always  been  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  precious 
remains  of  the  2d  century.  Cfirtain  recent  critics,  however,  have 
'luestioned  the  authenticity  of  the  nanativc.  Lipsius  *  brings  the 
<late  of  the  epistle  down  to  about  260,  although  he  admits  many  of 
its  statements  as  trustworthy.  Keim'^  endeavours  to  show  in  a 
long  dissertation  that  it  could  not  possibly  hare  been  writtiin 
shortly  after  the  death  of  Polycarp,  but  that,  althouj-h  based  on 
Rood  information,  it  was  not  composed  till  the  middle  of  the  3d 
century.  But  Kcim's  own  investigation  is  sullicicnt  to  convince 
every  unprejudiced  mind  that  the  genuineness  of  the  ejiistle  will 
bear  the  closest  scrutiny,  for  the  arfjuments  ho  advances  arc  of  no 
value.*  The  only  positions  which  Keim  (following  in  the  wake  of 
others ')  makes  good  are  that  a  few  slight  interpolations  '  have  been 


'  Compare  vii.  1  with  Iren.  iii.  8,  4. 

I  See  Haraack,  IXe  Zeit  dvt  hjnafms,  1S78. 
See  Zahn,  "  Epp.  Ipiat.  ct  Polyc.,"  in  Pair.  App.  0pp.,  vol.  ii. ; 
Von  Gcbharrtt  in  the  Ztschr.  f.  d.  kiilvr.  Thcol.,  1876,  p.  356  sq.  ; 
llarnack,  Zeit  Uc3  Ignatius,  1878. 

*  Zlschr.  f.  vnsstmch.  Ty.ol,  18(^,,  p.  200  sj. 

'  A IM  ilr.m  Urchrislcnthum,  p.  90  sq. 

'  He  lays  stress  especially  on  the  miraculous  elements  and  the  ideal 
of  martyrdom  held  up  in  the  letters. 

'  See  Schiirer,  Zhchr.  f.  d.  hislor.  Thml.,  1870,  p.  203. 
Amongst  these  we  ought  probably  to  include  the  expression,  ^ 
xaSoXiK*,  iKKKnala.  (Inscr.,  c.  xvi.  19),  KaOaXiKis  being  hero  used  in 
till)  scuso  of     oithod'j.t. " 


inserted  in  the  epistle,  and  that  it  was  written,  not  a  few  days,  but 
perhaps  a  year  or  two  after  the  death  of  Polycarp.  The  statement 
in  the  epistle  that  Polvcarp  suffered  martyrdom  under  the  pro- 
consulate of  Quadratus  Kis  quite  recently  given  rise  to  a  voluminous 
literature.  Eusebius  in  his  CTiroiiiWc  gives  106  a.d.  as  the  year 
of  Polycarp's  death,  and  until  the  year  1867  this  statement  was 
never  questioned.  In  that  year  appeared  Waddington's  "Jleinoire 
sur  la  chronologie  do  la  vie  du  rhetcur  .£liu3  Aristide  ",{Mcm.  de 
Vlnstilut.  imp.  de  France,  1867,  xxvi.),  i.i  which  it  was  shown 
from  a  most  acute  combination  of  circumstances  that  Quadratus 
was  proconsul  of  Asia  in  155-6,  and  that  consequently  Polycarfj 
was  martyred  on  the  23d  of  February  155.'  Since  the  date  oi 
.Polycarp's  death  is  of  great  importance  for  the  chronology  of  many 
other  events,  and  since  it  is  an  unusual  thing  in  tne  history  of 
criticism  for  the  date  of  any  occurrence  to  be  thus  put  eleven  years 
farther  back,  Waddington's  arguments  have  been  examined  by  a 
great  number  of  critics.  Renan,'"  Aube,^'  Hilgenfeld,'"  Gebhardt," 
Lipsius,'''  Harnack,''  Zahn,'*  Egli,"  and  others  have  declared  them- 
selves satisfied,  although  some  scholars  regarded  156  as  also  a 
possible  date.  On  the  other  hand  Keim,  '*Wieseler,"and  Uhlhorn,-' 
join  issue  with  Waddington  and  adhere  to  the  date  of  Eusebius. 
The  arguments  on  which  they  rely  do  not  appear  to  the  jiresent 
writer  to  be  convincing,  and  it  may  be  asserted  with  great  proba- 
bility that  the  martyrdom  of  Polycarp  took  place  on  the  23d  of 
February  155."  Besides  these  we  have  no  other  sources  for  the  lifo 
of  Polycarp.  The  Vita  S.  Polycarpi  audore  Pionio  (published  by 
Duchesne,  .Paris,  1881,  and  Funk,  Ajmit.  Pair.  0pp.,  voL  ii.  p. 
315  sq.)  is  worthless.-- 

The  chief  facts  to  be  gathered  about  the  life  of  Polycarp 
from  the  above  sources  are  these.  He  must  have  been 
born  before  the. year  69,  for  on  the  day  of  his  death  he 
declared  that  he  had  served  the  Lord  for  eighty-six  years 
{Martyrium,  ix.).  He  became  a  Christian  in  his  earliest 
youth,  and  was  an  associate  of  the  apostle  John  and  other 
disciples  of  Jesus  who  had  come  from  Palestine  to  Asia 
Minor.  What  he  heard  from  them  he  kept  in  life-long 
remembrance,  and  in  his  manhood  and  old  age  he  used  to 
gather  the  young  people  round  him,  and  repeat  to  theui 
what  he  had  learned  from  those  who  had  seen  Christ  in 
the  flesh.  Amongst  these  youthful  hearers  was  Iren.eus, 
who  ha.s  recorded  much  of  what  he  thus  learned  (for 
example,  an  encounter  between  John  and  Cerinthus  in  the 
bath,  a  statement  about  the  age  of  Jesus,  ic).  '  Especially 
when  heresy  began  to  raise  its  head,  the  aged  Polycarp 
never  ceased  to  appeal  to  the  pure  doctrine  of  the  apostles. 
He  lived  to  see  the  rise  of  the  Marcionite  and  V'alentinian 
sects,  and  vigorously  opposed  them.  Irena:us  tells  us  that 
on  one  occa-sion  Marcion  "  endeavoured  to  establish 
relations  with  him"  (Iron.,  iii.  3,  4),  and  accosted  him 
with  the  words  cVtyu'wo-Keis  7;/ia! ;  there  is  no  doubt  that 
Marcion  wished  to  bo  on  friendly  terms  with  so  influential 
a  man  ;  but  Polycarp  displayed  the  same  uncompromising 
attitude  which  his  master  John  had  shown  to  Cerintlius, 
and  answered  {Viytcwo-Kt)  o-e  toi/  irpiaTOTOKOV  toC  larava. 
The.so  stern  words  are  again  applied 'to  Marcion  in  the 
epistle  to  the  Pbilippians ;  for  it  is  undoubtedly  Marcion 
who  is  referred  to  in  the  following  passage  (c.  vii.)  : — "  Ho 
who  falsifies  the  sayings  of  the  Lord  after  his  own 
pleasure,  and  affirms  that  there  is  no  resurrection  [of  the 
flesh]  and  no  judgment,  "is  the  first-born  of  Satan."     The 

'  Ho  died  on  a  "  great  Sabbath  "^another  expression  which  has 
given  rise  to  much  discussion — by  which  is  meant  the  Sabbath  after 
Easter.  In  155  this  fell  on  the  23d  February,  and  this  ngreca  with 
what  the  church  of  Smyrna  says  about  the  day  of  its  bishop's  death  : 
Tpi  firxA  KaXiyZuiv  MoprtcKK. 

'»  Anleclirisl,  1873,  p.  207.       "  Hist,  des perstc,  1875,  p.  325i?. 

"  Z(scJ.r.  /.  wiss.  Theot.,  1874,  p.  305  sq. 

»'ZlKhr./.  d.  hist.  ThtoL,  1879,  p.  850*7. 

"  ZUchr.  f.  wisa.  Thtol.,  1874,  p.  188;  Jahtib. /■  prot.  TheoL, 
1883,  p.  625  sq.  "  Zlschr.  f.  KircMmijueh. ,  1878,  p.  306. 

"  "Epp.  Ignnt.  ct  Polyc,"  as  cited  ahovo. 

"  Ztschr.  f.  wiss.  Theol,  1882,  p.  227  iq.,  1884,  p.  216  #7. 

"  /li«  dem  Urchristenthum,  p.  90  sq. 

"   Die  Christenvn/ol'jmyfn  drr  Cwsaren,  1.S78,  p.  3t  sq. 

=°  Hfalmcyk.  f.  prot.   Thr,,!.,  '2d  cd.,  jii.  p.  105. 

»'  See  S.ilmon  in  the  Academy,  21st  July  1883,  p.  46  sq. 

"  See  Harnnck  In  the  Theol.  Lit.  Zeilunj,  1882,  No.  12;  Z«hn, 
I  he  atitlinu.  Oct.  Anz. ,  1882,  Heft  10. 


416 


P  O  L— P  O  J. 


steady  progress  of  the  heretical  movement,  in  spite  of  all 
opposition,  was  a  cause  of  deep  sorrow  to  Polycarp,  so  that 
in  the  last  years  of  his  life  (Iren.  ap.  Euseb.,  v.  20)  the  words 
were  constantly  on  his  lips,  "  Oh  good  God,  to  what  times 
hast  thou  spared  me,  that  I  must  suffer  such  things." 
He  never  allowed  himself  to  engage  in  discussion  with 
heretics,  but  as  far  as  possible  avoided  their  presence. 
Even  in  early  life  he  had  become  the  head  of  the  church 
of  Smyrna,  where  he  was  held  in  the  highest  respect.  The 
congregation  looked  up  to  him  as  an  apostolic  and  pro- 
phetic teacher  (Mart.,  xvi.),  and  consequently  as  combin- 
ing in  himself  all  the  spiritual  gifts  which  God  had  con- 
ferred on  Christendom.  In  his  old  age  the  members  of 
the  congregration  vied  with  each  other  in  providing  for 
his  support  (ibid.,  xiii.).  How  great  his  reputation  was 
is  best  shown  by  the  fury  of  the  heathen  and  the  Jews  in 
his  martyrdom.  He  was  arrested  amidst  shouts  of  "  This 
is  the  teacher  of  Asia  ;  this  is  the  father  of  the  Christians  ; 
this  is  the  destroyer  of  our  gods ;  this  is  the  man  who  has 
taught  so  many  no  longer  to  sacrifice  and  no  longer  to  pray 
to  the  gods  "  (ibid.,  xii.).  When  sentence  was  pronounced 
against  him,  every  creature  of  the  Jewish  and  heathen 
rabble  hastened  to  add  something  to  the  pile  of  wood  on 
which  he  was  to  be  burned  (ibid.,  xiii.).  They  refused 
to  deliver  up  his  bones  to  the  Christians  for  burial,  for, 
said  the  Jews  to  the  mob,  "The  Christians  will  now 
forsake  the  Crucified,  and  worship  Polycarp"  (ibid.,  xvii.). 
The  sacrifice  of  Polycarp  immediately  quenched  the  fury 
of  the  multitude,  and  the  persecution  ceased.  All  these 
facts  prove  the  great  influence  which  the  bishop  had  in  the 
city.  But  his  reputation  extended  far  beyond  the  limits 
of  his  own  diocese.  His  letter  to  the  church  at  Philippi 
shov/s  us  how  fully  his  apostolic  spirit,  his  wisdom  and 
justice,  must  have  been  recognized  even  in  Macedonia ; 
otherwise  he  could  not  have  ventured  to  interfere  in  the 
purely  internal  affairs  of  the  PhOippian  church.  Ignatius, 
the  bishop  of  Antioch,  begins  his  letter  to  him  with  the 
words  (c.  1) — 'AvroSe^^d/icvds  trou  r^;'  iv  6(ia  yvuifxrji',  -ijSpaiT- 
fiiVT}v  ws  CTTt  Trirpav  aKivrjTov,  v7rf,o8o^a^o>,  Kara^toj^et?  tov 
Trpo<TwT70v  <Tov  ToC  djiico/tov.  ov  ovaL/xrjv  £v  ^€<u,  and,  in  spite 
of  his  patronizing  tone,  evidently  writes  with  deep  respect. 
But  even  the  church  at  Rome  were  to  have  an  opportunity 
of  making  the  acquaintance  of  the  venerable  bishop.  It 
is  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  important  incidents  in 
the  church  history  of  the  2d  century  that  Polycarp,  in  the 
year  before  his  death  (when  he  was  above  ninety  years  of 
age)  undertook  the  journey  to  Rome  in  order  to  visit  the 
bishop  Anicetus.i  Irenseus,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for 
this  information  [Hisr.  iii.  3,  4 ;  Ep.  ad  Victorem,  in 
Eusebius,  H.E.,  v.  24,  16-17),  gives  as  the  reason  for  the 
journey  that  differences  existed  between  Asia  and  Rome, 
or  between  Polycarp  and  Anicetus,  "  with  regard  to 
certain  things,"  and  especially  about  the  tiine  of  the  Easter 
festival,  which  it  was  desirable  to  remove.  He  might 
easily  have  told  us  what  these  "  certain  things  "  were,  and 
given  us  fuller  details  of  the  negotiations  betjyeen  the  two 
great  bishops ;  for  in  all  probability  he  was  himself  in 
Rome  at  the  time  {Mart.,  Epilog.  Mosq.).  But  unfor- 
tunately all  he  says  is  that,  with  regard  to  the  "  certain 
things,"  the  two  bishops  speedily  came  to  an  understand- 
ing, while,  as  to  the  time  of  Easter,  each  .adhered  to  his 

'  Anicetus  was  bishop  from  154  (156)  to  166  (167)  (see  Lipsius, 
Chron.  d.  Horn.  Bischo/e,  §  263.)  Those  critics  who  reject  WaJ- 
dington's  view  as  to  the  date  of  Polycarp's  death  use  this  as  their 
principal  argument,  that  according  to  it  there  is  no  room  for  Polycarp's 
journey  to  Rome.  It  is  certainly  remarkable  that  the  journey  caa 
just  be  brought  under  Waddingtcn's  calculations  and  no  more ;  but, 
since  after  all  it  can  be  brought  under  them,  no  conclusive  argument 
caa  be  drawn  from  this  circumstance.  A  voyage  to  Rome  at  a  favour- 
able season  of  the  year  was  not  a  very  fcrmidable  affair,  and  that 
Polycarp  was  still  comparatively  vigorous  is  shown  by  his  conduct 
(luring  the  persecutiou  [Mart.,  v.  sj.). 


own  custom  without  breaking  off  communication  vrith  the 
other.  We  learn  further  that  Anicetus,  as  a  mark  of 
special  honour,  allowed  Polycarp  to  celebrate  the  Eucharist, 
in  the  church  (the  Eucharist  must  therefore  have  still  been 
celebrated  at  Rome  in  the  Greek  tongue),  that  many 
Marcionites  and  Valentinians  were  converted  by  Polycarp 
in  Rome  (so  that  his  visit  must  have  lasted  for  a  consider- 
able time),  and  that  Polycarp  took  leave  of  Anicetus  im 
peace.  On  his  return  to  Smyrna  he  enjoyed  onlj'  about  six 
months  of  uninterrupted  activity.  Then,  on  the  occasion  of 
the  festive  games,  there  arose,  as  in  so  many  other  instances,, 
an  outburst  of  popular  feeling  against  the  Christians,  im 
which  Polycarp  was  to  die  a  martyr's  death.  From  tbe^ 
letter  of  the  church  of  Smyrna  we  see  with  what  magnani- 
mity and  manliness  and  true  Christian  spirit  the  grey- 
haired  bishop  conducted  himself.  It  leaves  the  most  vivid 
impression  of  a  man  of  dignity  and  noble  demeanour,  and 
at  the  same  time  of  humble  disposition  and  compassionate 
love.  Every  action  he  does,  every  word  he  speaks,  in  the: 
prosecution  and  during  the  trial  is  noble  and  great ;  eveni 
that  quiet  irony  which  we  detect  in  his  answer  to  Marciore 
does  not  forsake  him  (Mart.,  ix.  2).  The  proconsul  was. 
anxious  to  save  him,  and  tried  to  induce  him  to  recant,, 
but  he  remained  steadfast.  He  was  delivered  up  to  the 
populace,  and  his  body  was  burned.  The  Christian* 
present  believed  that  they  saw  a  dove  soaring  aloft  frons 
the  burning  pUe,  and  it  was  reported  that  an  odour  issued 
from  it  like  that  of  costly  incense  (ibid.,  xvi.  15).  Such, 
legends  do  not  require  years  for  their  formation,  but  only 
a  few  hours.  By  his  death  Polycaro  shielded  his  con- 
gregation from  further  persecution.  (a.  ha.) 

POLYCLETLTS.  Two  Greek  sculptors  bore  this  name. 
For  an  account  of  the  works  of  the  elder,  a  native  of 
Sicyon,  see  vol.  ii.  p.  357,  and  figs.  6,  7.  With  him  is  some- 
times confounded  his  younger  kinsman  and  namesake,  pro- 
perly known  as  Polycletus  the  Argive.  For  the  most  part 
this  younger  Polycletus  confined  himself  to  statues  of 
athletes  who  had  won  prizes  at  Olympia.  In  recent  exca- 
vations there  two  bases  of  statues  by  him  have  been  four-d, 
but  no  remains  of  his  work.  From  the  fact  of  his  having 
executed  a  statue  of  Zeus  Philios,  i.e.,  a  combination  of 
Zeus  and  Dionysus,  for  the  town  of  Megalopolis,  which  was 
founded  in  371  B.C.,  we  may  assign  him  to  about  that  date. 

POLYCEATES,  a  celebrated  Greek  tjTant  of  Samos, 
was  the  son  of  .(Eaces.  After  distinguishing  himself  by 
his  liberality  towards  his  poorer  fellow-citizens  he  tool: 
advantage  of  a  festival  to  Hera  in  order  to  make  himself 
master  of  Samos  (537  or  536  b.c.).^  Allied  with  Amasis, 
king  of  Egj'pt,  he  prospered  greatly,  so  that  his  fame  went 
forth  through  all  Greece  and  Ionia.  He  had  100  ships 
and  1000  bowmen.  He  made  war  indiscriminate!)'  on 
friend  and  foe,  declaring  with  grim  humour  that  he 
gratified  his  friends  more  by  returning  to  them  their  own 
than  by  not  taking  it  at  all.  Many  islands  fell  before  hinx 
and  many  cities  on  the  mainland.  Amongst  the  former 
was  Rhenea,  which  he  attached  by  a  chain  to  the  neigh- 
bouring island  of  Delos,  and  dedicated  to  the  Delian 
Apollo.  When  the  Lesbians  would  have  succoured  Miletus, 
he  conquered  and  captured  them  in  a  sea-fight  and 
employed  them  to  dig  a  moat  round  the  walls  of  his 
fortress.  According  to  Herodotus,  he  was  the  first  within 
historical  times  who  aimed  at  the  sovereignty  of  the  seas,. 
and  his  ambitious  schemes  embraced  not  only  the  Greek 
islands  but  also  Ionia.  In  magnificence  none  of  the  Greek 
tyrants  save  those  of  Syracuse  could  compare  with  him. 

-  Eusebius  gives  the  date  as  1484  (year  of  Abraham)  =  01ymp.  61,* 
=  October  533  to  October  532.  But  codex  N  of  the  Armenian  ver' 
sion  of  Eusebius  has  Abrah.  1480  =  Olymp.  60,4  =  Oct.  537  to  Oct, 
536.  The  former  d.ate,  accepted  by  Clinton,  would  leave  only  '""lo 
years  for  the  tyranny  of  Polycrates,  which  seems  too  little. 


P  0  L  — P  0  L 


41; 


His  great  public  works  were  executed,  according  to 
Aristotle,  for  the  purpose  of  employing  his  subjects  and 
diverting  their  thoughts  from  the  recovery  of  their  free- 
dom.' He  imported  Spartan  and  Molossian  hounds,  goats 
from  Naxos  and  Scyros,  sheep  from  Attica  and  Miletus. 
The  splendour  of  his  palace  is  attested  by  the  design  which 
many  centuries  later  the  emperor  Caligula  formed  of 
rebuilding  it.  Foreign  artists  worked  for  him  at  high 
wages :  from  Athens  he  brought  Demacedes,  the  greatest 
physician  of  the  age,  at  a  salary  of  two  talents.  Polycrates 
was  also  a  patron  of  letters  :  he  collected  a  library  and 
lived  on  terms  of  intimate  friendship  with  the  poet 
Anacreon,  whose  verses  were  full  of  references  to  his 
[)atron.  The  philosopher  Pythagoras,  however,  quitted 
Samos  in  order  to  escape  his  tyranny.  The  good  fortune  of 
Polycrates  is  the  subject  of  a  famous  story.  Amasis,  moved 
with  fear  at  the  exceeding  great  prosperity  of  his  friend, 
reminded  him  that  God  is  jealous,  and  that  the  man  who 
is  uplifted  very  high  must  needs  fall  veiy  low.  Therefore 
he  besought  him,  if  he  would  avert  the  jealous  wrath  of 
heaven,  to  cast  from  him  that  which  he  valued  most. 
Polycrates  hearkened  to  him  and  flung  into  the  sea  an 
emerald  signet  set  in  gold,  the  work  of  the  Samian  artist 
Theodorus.  But  a  few  days  after  the  signet  was  found  in 
the  belly  of  a  large  fish  whicta  fisherman  had  presented 
to  the  king.  When  Amasis  heard  of  this  he  knew  that 
Polycrates  was  doomed,  and  renounced  his  alliance. 
Amasis  died  before  his  forebodings  were  fulfilled.  When 
the  Persians  under  King  Cambyses  were  preparing  to 
invade  TLgypt,  Polycrates,  anxious  to  conciliate  the  growing 
power  of  Persia,  sent  forty  ships  to  their  help  (525  B.C.). 
But  the  squadron  was  largely  manned  by  malcontents 
whom  Polycrates  had  hoped  thus  to  get  rid  of;  hardly  "had 
it  reached  the  island  of  Carpathus  when  the  crews  mutinied 
and  turned  the  ships'  heads  back  to  Samos.  They  defeated 
the  tyrant  in  an  action  at  sea,  but  were  themselves  over- 
thrown in  a  land  battle  and  compelled  to  flee  the  island. 
Having  taken  refuge  in  Sparta,  they  prevailed  on  the 
Spartans  to  make  war  on  Polycrates.  A  powerful  Spartan 
armament  laid  siege  to  Samos,  but  was  fain  to  retire  after 
forty  days  without  effecting  its  object.  Not  very  long 
afterwards  Orojtes,  the  Persian  satrap  of  Sardes,  by  work- 
ing on  the  avarice  and  ambition  of  Polycrates,  lured  him 
to  Magnesia  and  put  him  to  a  shameful"  death  (522  B.C.). 

Tho  name  of  Polycrates  was  also  borne  by  an  Athenian  rhetorician 
of  some  repute,  who  flourished  early  in  the  4th  century  D.c.  He 
taught  at  Athens,  and  afterwards  in  Cypliis.  Ho  composed  declama- 
tions on  paradoxical  themes — an  Encomium  on  Ciytcmnestra,  an 
jiccusation  of  Socrates,  an  Encomium  on  Busiris  (a  mythical  king 
of  Kgypt,  notorious  for  his  inhumanity);  also  declamations  on  mice, 
pots,  and  counters.  His  Encomium  on  Busiris  was  sharpiy  criticized 
uy  his  younger  contemporary  Isocrates,  in  a  work  still  extant,  and 
Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  characterises  his  stylo  as  frigid,  vulgar, 
and  inelegant.  Nevertheless  his  works  are  said  to  have  been  studied 
by  Demosthenes.  See  Jebb'a  Attic  Orators,  ii.  p.  94  ;  Cope  on 
Ai"istotle'8  Rhetoric,  IL  c.  24. 

POLYGLOTT.  A  polyglott  is  a  book  which  contains 
aide  by  side  versions  of  the  same  text  in  several  different 
languages  ;  and  the  most  important  polyglotts  arc  editions 
of  the  Bible,  or  its  parts,  in  which  the  Hebrew  and  Greek 
originals  are  exhibited  along  with  the  great  historical 
versions,  which  are  of  value  for  the  history  of  the  text  and 
its  interpretation.  The  first  enterprise  of  this  kind  is  the 
famous  Ilexapla  of  Origen ;  but  here  only  Hebrew  and 

'  Herodotus,  our  chief  authority  for  ttio  life  of  Polycrates,  mentions 
three  great  engineering  and  ari:liitectur.al  works  for  which  Samoa  was 
reni.irkablo  :— (1)  a  tunnel,  about  1400  yards  long,  dug  through  a 
mountain,  and  serving  to  bring  water  to  tho  capital  ;  (2)  a  great  mole 
or  breakwater  round  tho  liarbour  ;  (3)  a  great  temple  (tho  temple  of 
Hera,  patron  goddess  of  Samos),  said  by  Herodotus  to  be  tho  largest 
lie  had  ever  seen.  But  wo  cannot  say  what  sbara  Polycrates  had  in 
these  works  ;  certainly  the  tcmplo  of  Hera  scema  to  bavo  been  begun 
bef'  re  bis  tim«k 


Greek  were   employed    (though   the  versions   of  Aquila, 
Symmachus,  and  I'heodotioa  were  shown  as  well  as  tho 
Septuagint),   so   that    tho    work  was  rather  diglott  than 
polyglott  in  the  usual  sense.,     After  the  invention  of  printr 
ing  and   the   revival   of   philological   studies,    polyglotts 
became  a  favourite  means  of  advancing  the  knowledge  of 
Eastern  languages  (for  which  no  good  helps  were  available) 
as  well  as  the  study  of  Scripture.     The  series  began  with 
the  Complutensian  (Alcala,  1514-17),  already  spoken  of  in 
the  article  on  its  promoter  Cardinal  Jimenes  or  Ximenes ; 
next  came  the   Antwerp   Polyglott  (1569-72,  in    8  vols, 
folio)  of  which  the  principal  editor  was  Arias  Montanus 
aided    by    Guido    Fabricius    Boderianus,    Raphelengius, 
Masius,  Lucas   of  Bruges,   and   others.     Th's  work  was 
under  the  patronage  of  Philip  II.  of  Spain  ;  it  added  a 
new  language  to  those  of  the  Complutensian  by  including 
the  Syriac  New  Testament ;  and,  while  the  earlier  polyglott 
had  only  the  Targum  of  Onkelos  on  the  Pentateuch,  the 
Antwerp  Bible  had  also  the  Targum  on  the  Prophets,  and 
on   Esther,    Job,    Psalms,    and    the   Salomonic   ^^Titings. 
Next    came  Le   Jay's    Faris    Polyglott    (1645),    which 
embraces  the  first   prints   of  the  Syriac  Old  Testament 
(edited  by  Gabriel  Sionita,  a  Maronite,  but  the  book  of 
Ruth  by  Abraham  Ecchelensis,  also  a  Mnronite)  and  of  the 
Samaritan  Pentateuch  and  version  (by  Morinus,  q.v.).     It 
has  also  an  Arabic  version,  or  rather  a  series  of  various 
Arabic  versions.     Le   Jay's  work   is  a  splendid  piece  of 
typography,  but  its  success  was  marred  by  the  appearance 
of  the  cheaper  and  more  comprehensive  London  Polyglott. 
Le  Jay  was  ruined,  and  a  great  part  of  the  impression  went 
to  the  trunkmakers.     The  last  great  polyglott  is  Walton's 
(London,  1657),  which  is  much  less  beautiful  than  Le  Jay'«, 
but  more  complete  in  various  ways,  including  among  other 
things  the  Syriac  of  Esther  and  several  apocryphal  books 
for  which  it  is  wanting  in  the  Paris  Bible,  Persian  versions 
of  the  Pentateuch  and  Gospels,  the  Psalms  and  New  Tes- 
tament in  Ethiopic.     Walton  was  aided  by  able  scholars, 
and  used  much  new  manuscript  material.     His  prolego- 
mena, too,  and  collections  of  various  readings  mark  an 
important  advance  in  Biblical  criticism.     It  was  in  con- 
nexion with  this  polj'glott  that  E.  Castle  produced  his 
famous  Heptaglott  Lexicon  (London,   2  "vols,  folio,  1669), 
an  astounding  monument  of  industry  and  erudition  even 
when  allowance  is  made  for  the  fact  that  for  the  Arabic 
he  had  the  great  MS.  lexicon  compiled  and  left  to  the 
university   of   Cambridge   by   the   almost   forgotten    W. 
Bedwell.     TJie   later   polyglotts    are    of    little   scientific 
importance,  the  best  recent  texts  having  been  confined  to 
a  single  language ;  but  every  Biblical   student  still  uses 
Walton  and,  if  ho  can  get  it,  Le  Jay.     Of  the  numerous 
polyglotts  on  parts  of  the  Bible  it  may  suflfice  to  mention 
the  Genoa  psalter  of  1516,  edited  by  Giu.stiniani,  bishop 
of  Nebbio.     It  is  in  Hebrew,  Latin,  Greek,  Clmldce,  and 
Arabic,    and   is    interesting    from    the    character   of    tho 
Chaldee  text,  from  being  the  first  .specimen  of  Western 
printing  in  tho  Arabic  character,  and'  from  a  curious  note 
on  Columbus  and  tho  discovery  of  America  on  the  margin 
of  Psalm  xix. 

POLYGNOTUS,  a  Greek  painter.  For  a  description 
of  his  work  see  vol.  ii.  p.  358.  It  may  hero  bo  added 
that  an  approximate  date  for  his  paintings  at  Delphi  is 
obtained  from  tho  fact  that  one  of  them  was  inscribed 
with  an  epigram  written  by  the  poet  Simonidcs,  who  died 
467  B.C.  As  Simonides  appears  to  have  resided  in  Sicily 
during  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life,  tho  epigram  was  pro- 
bably composed  previous  to  477  B.C.  This  series  of  mural 
paintings  at  Delphi,  embracing  about  one  hundred  and 
forty-six  figures,  scema  to  have  occupied  two  ojiposito  walls 
of  on  oblong  building  known  as  the  Lcsche.  "The  figures, 
hardly  under  life  size,  were  disposed  in  two  or  sometimes 

XIX.  —  S3 


418 


P  0  L  — P  O  L 


three  rows,  th'j  one  higher  up  than  the  other,  with  appa- 
rently but  very  slight  indications  of  the  fact  that  the  iigures 
of  the  upper  rows  were  to  be  understood  as  standing  at  a 
more  remote  distance.  The  several  rows  would  run  con- 
tinuously like  sculptured  friezes,  and  indeed  this  manner 
of  composition  is  best  illustrated  by  the  friezes  at  Vienna 
recently  found  at  Gjblbaxhi  in  Lycia,  some  of  which  present 
subjects  and  motives  identical  with  those  treated  by  Poly- 
gnotus. 

POLYHISTOR,  CoENELius  Alexander,  a  IMilesian 
and  disciple  of  Crates,^  who  through  the  fortune  of  war 
became  the  slave  and  afterwards  the  f  reedman  of  Cornelius 
Lentulus  (Suidas).  He  received  the  Konian  citizenship 
from  Sulla  (Servius  on  jEn.  x.  388),  and  \vrote  an  enormous 
number  of  books  on  historical  and  geographical  subjects, 
of  which  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  fragments  have 
been  collected  (Miiller,  Fr.  Hist.  Gr.,  iii.  206  sq.).  His 
account  of  the  doctrines  of  Pythagoras  has  been  largely 
drawn  from  by  Diogenes  Laertius,  but  the  most  interesting 
of  the  fragments  refer  to  the  history  of  the  Jews,  for 
which  Alexander  drew  on  historical  and  poetical  works  of 
Jewish  and  Samaritan  Hellenists.  What  has  been  pre- 
served on  this  subject,  mainly  by  Eusebius  in  the  Frx- 
paratio  Evangflica,  is  sufficient  to  throw  a  good  deal  of 
light,  not  particularly  favourable,  on  the  intellectual 
activity  of  the  Hellenists  of  the  2d  century  b.c. 

See  J.  Freudenthal,  Hf.llcnistiscTie  Shidicn,  i.  ii.  (Breslau,  1875), 
in  which  the  subject  of  the  soarcea  of  Polyhistor  is  fully  dis- 
cussed. 

POLYNESIA.  In  the  last  edition  of  the  Eiicydopxdia 
Britannica  Polynesia  was  used  to  denote  all  the  intertropical 
islands  of  the  Pacific  Ocean  eastward  of  the  Philippine 
Islands  to  the  north  and  the  New  Hebrides  to  the  south  of 
the  equator.  The  New  Hebrides  and  other  islands  west 
of  that  group  were  included  under  the  term  Australasia. 
Of  late  years  these  islands  (sometimes  also  including  Fiji) 
Lave  beqn  kno\vn  as  Melanesia,  while  the  western  islands 
of  the  North  Pacific  have  been  known  as  Jlicronesia. 
Thus  Polynesia  has  been  restricted  to  the  central  and 
eastern  islands  inhabited  by  the  brown  or  Sawaiori  race, 
becoming  an  ethnographic  rather  than  a  geographical  term. 
Articles  dealing  with  the  western  islands  north  and  south 
of  the  equator  will  be  found  under  Micronesia  and 
MeL-VNESIa.  The  present  article  is  intended  to  give  a 
comprehensive  view  of  all  the  islands  of  the  Pacific,  their 
physical  characteristics,  natural  productions,  and  the  races 
of  men  found  upon  them.  The  name  Polynesia  is  therefore 
here  employed  in  a  wide  signification  and  solely  as  a 
geographical  term.  The  western  boundary  of  this  region 
runs  from  the  great  barrier  reef  of  Australia  eastward  of 
New  Guinea  and  the  Philippine  Islands.  All  the  inter- 
trofiical  islands  of  the  Pacific  eastward  of  this  imaginary 
line  are  included,  and  also  a  few  others  which  extend 
outside  the  tropic  of  Capricorn  to  nearly  30'  S.  lat. 
Any  other  divisions  for  geographical  purposes,  except 
those  of  groups  of  islands,  appear  to  be  unnatural  and 
uncalled  for.  For  ethnographical  purposes  special  terms 
are  used  for  the  three  different  classes  of  people  found  in 
this  wide  area. 

If  we  exclude  New  Caledonia  (q.v.),  which  is  of  older 
formation  than  the  rest,  all  the  islands  of  Polynesia  are 
either  of  volcanic  or  of  coral  formation.  Some  are  purely 
coral,  either  in  the  shape  of  low  atolls  or  of  elevated 
plateaus.  In  a  few  atolls  there  are  remnants'  of  earlier 
volcanic  rocks  ;  and  most  of  the  volcanic  islands  are  more 
or  less  fringed  with  coral   reefs,  ^v  But,  notwithstanding 

'  From  the  sclicliast  on  Apoll.  Rh.,  i.  925,  it  would  appear  that 
Polyhistor  was  a  Milesian  only:by  education,  for  here  the  Carian  Cher- 
sonese is  named  as  his  birtli'place.  The  dates  seem  to  show  that  he 
fras  DOt  a  personal  disciple  of  Crates. 


this  mixture,  the  islands  must  be  divided  broadly  intc 
those  which  are  volcanic  and  those  which  are  of  coral 
formation.  The  coral  islands  must  again  be  subdivided 
into  (1)  atolls,  or  low  islands  which  usually  have  a  lagoon 
within  them,  and  (2)  elevated  table-lands. 

The  volcanic  islands,  with  the  exception  of  the  Hawaiian 
archipelago,  are  all  south  of  the  equator.  In  Plate  III. 
the  great  volcanic  ridge  is  indicated  by  two  lines  which, 
commencing  in  150°  E.,  run  in  a  south-easterly  direction 
to  about  140°  W.  long.  With  the  exception  of  two 
curves,  one  in  the  lower  line  south  of  the  New  Hebrides, 
and  one  in  the  upper  line  at  its  eastern  extremity,  these  are 
parallel,  and  are  1 0°  apart.  Within  these  two  lines  lie  all 
the  volcanic  islands  of  Polynesia,  except  two  isolated 
groups,  viz.,  the  Marquesas  and  Hawaiian  Islands.  On 
this  ridge  there  are  no  atolls.  The  upper  boundary  line 
sharply  divides  the  volcanic  ridge  from  the  atoll  valley. 
This  valley  is  indicated  by  a  third  line  running  for  more 
than  50°  of  longitude  parallel  with  the  other  two,  at  20° 
distance  from  that  bounding  the  northern  extremity  of  the 
volcanic  ridge.  Eastward  of  155°  W.  long,  this  line  bends 
towards  the  south  to  exclude  the  isolated  volcanic  centre  of 
the  Marquesas  Islands  ;  then,  curving  around  the  Tuamotn 
archipelago,  it  joins  the  central  line.  Within  the  arei 
thus  enclosed  lie  all  the  atolls  or  low  coral  lagoon  islands 
of  Polynesia,  and  there  are  no  volcanic  islands  within  th  is 
region  except  in  three  or  four  instances,  where  are  found 
the  remnants  of  former  islands  which  have  sunk,  but  hare 
not  been  quite  submerged.  This  is  the  region  of  subsidence 
— stretching  across  full}-  100°  of  longitude,  and  covering 
generally  about  20°  of  latitude. 

Within  the  volcanic  region  there  are  a  few  coral  islands, 
but  these  are  all  more  or  less  elevated.  Since  their 
formation  they  have  participated  in  the  upward  movement 
of  the  ridge  on  which  they  are  situated.  They  are  indi- 
cated on  the  map  by  dotted  lines.  Two  of  the  groups 
are  within  the,lines  marking  the  volcanic  ridge ;  and  one, 
the  Loyalty  group,  lies  close  to  the  lower  line. 

The  Volcanic  Islands. — Most  of  the  volcanic  islands  of 
Polynesia  are  high  in  proportion  to  their  size.  The  taper- 
ing peaks,  or  truncated  cones,  which  form  their  backbone 
present  a  picturesque  appearance,  ^o  the  voyager  as  he 
approaches  tliem.  In  some  there  are  precipitous  spurs 
jutting  into  the  sea,  while  in  others  the  land'  slopes  gently 
from  the  central  peak  to  the  shore.  Where  there  are 
these  gentle  slopes,  and  wherever  there  is  any  low  land 
near  the  shore,  there  also  will  be  found  a  coral  reef  fring- 
ing the  coast  at  a  smaller  or  greater  distance,  according 
to  the  steepness  of  the  land  under  the  water.  Where  the 
trend  downwards  is  very  gradual,  the  edge  of  the  reef 
will  sometimes  be  one,  two,  or  even  three  miles  to  sea- 
ward. It  has  been  thought  that  the  ab.sence  of  extensive 
reefs  in  some  islands  of  the  New  Hebrides  is  due  to  "sub- 
terranean heat."  But  the  steepness  of  the  slope  of  the 
islands  under  water  is  doubtless  the  reason  why  the  reefs 
are  small.  As  the  reef-building  coral  polypes  do  not  livs 
and  work  below  a  certain  depth — about  20  fathoms,  or 
120  feet — we  easily  see  that  the  distance  of  the  outer 
edge  of  the  reef  must  be  according  to  the  slope  of  tl'n 
island  beneath  the  water.  Opposite  to  the  larger  valleys, 
where  there  is  a  stream  flowing  out  to  sea,  there  is  usually 
found  a  break  in  the  reef.  This  is  doubtless  caused  eitlier 
by  the  fresh  water,  or  by  the  sediment  which  it  contains, 
injuring  the  coral  polypes  and  preventing  them  from 
effectively  carrying  on  their  work  in  these  spots.  The 
conviction  of  the  present  writer  is  that  it  is  the  sediment 
contained  in  the  water — especially  during  heavy  rains 
and  consequent  freshets — which  prevents  the  growth  of 
the  coral,  rather  than  the  mere  action  of  fresh  water  upon 
the  polypes.      Where  there  are  streams  of  considerablo 


I'OLYNESTA 


419 


size,  and  especially  where  tliey  are  subject  to  floods,  there 
are  generally  wide  openings  into  the  reef,  and  stretches 
of  deep  water  forming  natural  harbours  sufiicient  for  the 
accommodation  of  even  large  vessels.  There  are  a  few 
land-locked  harbours,  but  most  are  thus  formed  by  breaks 
in  the  reef. 

In  a  few  spots  active  volcanoes  arc  still  found.  These 
are  in  the  neighbourhood  of  New  Britain  and  New  Ireland, 
in  the  Solomon,  New  Hebrides,  and  Tonga  archipelagoes. 
In  most  of  the  islands  there  have  been  no  recent  erup- 
tions ;  but  now  and  again  the  inhabitants  of  islands  where 
volcanic  action  has  apparently  long  ceased  have  been 
startled  by  a  new  outbreak.  Over  the  whole  region  earth- 
quakes are  of  frequent  occurrence.  Most  of  the  craters  in 
the  islands  of  Samoa  have  immense  trees  growing  in 
them,  and  there  is  only  one  crater  in  the  entire  group 
which  shows  signs  of  even  a  comparatively  recent  erup- 
tion, or  concerning  which  there  is  a  tradition  among  the 
people  of  one.  Yet  in  1867,  after  an  almost  continuous 
succession  of  earthquakes  during  a  whole  night,  there  was 
a  submarine  eruption  betweeuxtwo  of  the  islands.  This 
lasted  only  a  few  days.  A  few  months  afterwards  the 
■writer  was  on  board  H.M.S.  "Falcon"  when  soundings 
were  taken  on  the  spot.  A  cone  was  found  the  summit  of 
•which  was  90  fathoms  deep,  while  all  around  the  sea  was 
120  fathoms  deep.  Thus  the  outpourings  of  this  sub- 
marine volcano  during  only  a  few  days  raised  a  mound 
in  the  bed  of  the  ocean  180  feet  in  height. 

The  soil  in  the  volcanic  islands  is  generally  very  fertile. 
The  climate  is  hot  and  moist  in  most  of  them ;  conse- 
quently the  vegetation  is  wonderfully  rich,  fhe  islands 
are  densely  clothed  with  the  most  luxuriant  verdure  from 
the  sea-beach  to  the  summits  of  the  mountains.  While 
in  a  few  islands,  especially  the  comparatively  barren  ones 
{barren  is  only  a  comparative  term  as  applied  to  any  of 
the  volcanic  islands),  there  is  sometimes  grand  and  bold 
scenery,  in  most  of  them  the  jagged  and  precipitous  rocks 
are  so  covered  up  and  rounded  oS  with  the  rich  vegetation 
that  they  lose  much  of  their  grandeur.  The  atmosphere 
is  so  laden  with  moisture  that  ferns,  club-mosses,  and 
even  small  shrubs  grow  upon  the  faces  of  the  steepest 
rocks.  Mainly  on  this  account  the  scenery  can  rarely  be 
said  to  be  grand ;  but  nearly  all  these  islands  are  truly 
beautiful.  There  is  a  freshness  about  the  vegetation  all 
ilie  year  round  which  is  rarely  seen  in  other  portions  of 
the  world.  The  cocoa-nut  palm  groves,  which  are  usually 
abundant  on  the  low  lands  near  the  sea,  alwaj's  give  a 
charm  to  the  islands  as  they  are  approached.  In  addition 
to  several  species  of  palms,  beautiful  ferns,  dracKnas, 
-crotons,  and  other  elegant  foliage  plants  abound.  Pines 
are  found  on  some  of  the  western  islands.  For  flowers 
none  of  them  will  compare  with  the  hedgerows  and 
meadows  of  England.  There  are,  it  is  true,  many  most 
beautiful  and  sweet-scented  flowers,  but  they  are  not 
usually  found  in  great  profusion. 

Fruits  are  abundant.  Some  of  the  indigenous  kinds 
are  good,  and  many  of  the  best  productions  of  other  tropi- 
cal countries  have  been  introduced  and  llourisb.  Oranges 
-Are  very  plentiful  in  many  islands ;  also  pine-apples, 
guavas,  custard  apples,  and  bananas.-  The  mango  has 
been  introduced  into  some  islands,  and  flourishes  well 
Most  of  these  fruits  have  been  introduced  by  missionaries. 
One  of  the  fruits  most  abundantly  used,  both  in  a  ripe 
state  and  cooked  when  unripe  as  a  vegetable,  is  the 
Chinese  banana,  ^fusa  Cavendishii.  The  first  plant  of 
this  carried  to  the  islands  was  in  a  case  of  plants  given  by 
the  duke  of  Devonshire  to  the  missionary  John  Williams 
■when  he  returned  from  England  to  the  Pacific  shortly 
before  ho  waa  killed  on  Erromanga.  During  the  long 
■voyage  all  the  plants  in  the  case  died  except  this  barana. 


When  it  reached  Samoa  it  was  carefully  cultivated  by  one 
of  the  missionaries  and  a  stock  of  it  was  propagated. 
From  the  single  plant  all  the  Chinese  bananas  in  Poly- 
nesia have  sprung,  and,  that  particular  kind  beiug  greatly 
prized  both  by  natives  and  foreign  settlers,  it  is  now  grown 
largely  wherever  mis.«ionaries  or  traders  have  gone,  and 
must  produce  annually  hundreds  of  tons  of  nutritious 
food. 

The  natives  live  chiefly  upon  vegetable  food.  In  most 
of  the  volcanic  islands  the  taro  (Colocasia  esculent  a)  is  ths 
most  important  food-producer.  Next  to  this  comes  the 
j-am  (Bioscorea  sativa).  Probably  next  in  importance  to 
this  are  the  plantains  and  bananas,  then  the  bread-fruit 
(Artocarpus  incisa)  and  arrowroot  (Tacca  jnnnatijida). 
The  bread-fruit  is  more  or  less  plentiful  in  most  of  thq 
volcanic  islands,  and  during  one  season  of  the  year  the 
natives  very  largely  subsist  upon  it.  It  is  not,  however, 
by  any  means  so  nutritious  as  the  taro  or  the  yam.  This 
vegetable  is  often  spoken  of  in  Britain  aa  if  it  were  a  rich 
fruit,  but  one  would  as  soon  eat  a  raw  potato  as  a  raw 
bread-fruit.  It  has  been  over-estimated,  by  many  -writers 
who  have  visited  the  Pacific.  The  present  writer  has 
noticed  that  the  Samoans  suffered  in  condition,  that  sick- 
ness among  children  was  very  common  and  the  rata  of 
mortality  high  during  the  bread-fruit  season.  Although 
the  raw  cocoa-nut  is  not  eaten  to  any  considerable  extent 
by  the  natives  of  valcaaic  islands,  this  must  not  be  omitted 
in  an  enumeration  of  the  principal  articles  of  their  food 
supply,  for  it  enters  into  the  composition  of  most  of  their 
made  dishes  in  the  form  of  expressed  juice  or  oil ;  the  soft 
half-grown  kernel  is  used  aa  a  kind  of  dessert,  and  the 
liquid  from  it,  -when  the  kernel  is  only  half  developed,  ia 
one  of  their  principal  beverages.  The  Ava,  or  Kava,  a, 
narcotic  drink  largely  used,  is  made  from  the  root  of  a 
pepper  (Piper  methysticum). 

In  some  islands  the  cocoa-nut  is  the  chief  article  of 
commerce.  The  fully-grown  kernel  is  cut  into  slices,  dried 
in  the  sun,  and  sold  as  "  cobra,"  from  which  much  of  the 
palm  oil  of  commerce  is  expressed.  On  many  islands 
cotton  is  largely  grown,  and  on  a  few,  especially  in  tha 
Hawaiian  archioelago,  sugar  cultivation  has  made  consider- 
able progress.  Many  other  vegetable  products  might  be 
utilized  if  there  were  a  demand  for  them.  The  candle-nut 
(Aleurites  triloba)  is  abundant  everywhere  near  the  coast. 
Coffee  has  not  been  grown  to  any  considerable  extent. 
Wild  ginger  and  wild  nutmegs  are  abundant  on  some  of 
the  islands.  In  some  places  indigo  has  been  introduced, 
and  has  spread  so  much  as  to  become  a  nuisance.  All  tha 
islands  have  numerous  valuable  fibre-producing  plants  be- 
longing to  the  UHicem  and  Malvacete.  But  the  probability 
is  that,  on  these  hot,  moist,  and  fertile  islands,  cocoa-nuts, 
cotton,  or  sugar  will  always  bo  the  most  profitable  crops  to 
cultivate  for  exportation. 

The  indigenous  fauna  of  Polynesia  is  poor  in  mammals 
but  rich  in  birds.  Mammals  are  represented  by  rats  and 
bats,  the  latter  including  the  flying  foxes  {Ptemptm). 
Some  say  pigs  are  indigenous,  but  they  were  doubtless 
introduced  by  early  navigators.  Horses  and  cattle  have 
been  introduced.  They  degenerate  very  rapidly,  unless 
they  are  contimially  improved  by  newly-imported  stock. 
Sheep  and  goats  are  introduced  into  some  islands,  but 
sheep  do  not  usually  thrive.  Dogs  are  iilentiful,  being 
kept  by  most  of  the  natives,  who  are  naturally  fond  of 
domestic  animals ;  but  they  degenerate  greatly.  Pigeons 
and  doves,  especially  the  fruit-eating  pigeons  {Carpophci<in) 
and  doves  of  the  genus  Ptilonopus,  are  abundant.  The 
Carpophaga  furnish  a  very  important  article  of  food  in 
some  of  the  islands.  Some  of  the  species  of  Ptilonopus 
are  exceedingly  beautiful.  Mcgapodes  arc  found  in  a  few 
of  the  -N-estei-n  ialanda ;  the  kagu  {Jihinochetm  Jubatut)  has 


420 


POLYNESIA 


its  home  on  New  Caledonia  ;  and  in  Samoa  the  Diduncuhis 
strigirostris  has  its  habitat.  This  bird  is  remarkable  as 
being  the  nearest  relative  of  the  extinct  dodo.  Some  time 
ago  it  was  rarely  found,  {ind  was  becoming  extinct.  It  fed 
and  nested  on  the  ground,  and  was  destroyed  by  cats  and 
rats  after  they  were  introduced.  Of  late  it  has  changed 
its  habits :  it  now  feeds,  nests,  and  roosts  upon  trees,  and 
is,  in  consequence,  increasing  in  numbers.  Certain  non- 
venomous  snakes  are  found  in  many  of  the  islands.  Insect 
life  is  abundant,  and  some  of  the  butterflies  are  very 
beautiful. 

The  lagoons  formed  by  the  coral  reefs  around  the 
islands  invariably  abound  in  fish,  many  of  them  most  gor- ' 
geous  in  their  colouring, — vying  in  this  respect  with  the 
parrots  of  Australia.  Fish  form  a  very  important  part  of 
the  food  supply. 

Ono  of  the  most  wonderful  creatures  in  the  marine  fauna  of 
Polynesia  is  the  palolo  (Paloia  viridis),  an  annelid  which  appears 
upon  the  surface  of  the  ocean,  near  the  edge  of  the  coral  reef,  at 
certain  seasons  of  the  year.  Ihe  palolo  are  from  9  to  18  inches 
long,  and  about  Jth  of  an  inch  thick.  They  are  eaten  by  the 
natives,  and  are  esteemed  a  great  delicacy.  They  live  in  the  inter- 
stices of  the  coral  reef,  and  are  conhned  to  a  few  localities.  About 
3  o'clock  on  the  morning  following  the  third  quartering  of  the 
October  moon  they  invariably  appear  upon  the  surface  of  the  wat<ir  ; 
generally  they  are  in  such  quantities  that  they  may  be  taken  up 
by  the  handful.  Soon  after  the  sun  rises  they  begin  to  break,  and 
by  9  o'clock  a.m.  they  have  broken  to  piecos  and  disappeared.  The 
morning  following  the  third  quarter  of  the  November  moon  they 
again  appear  in  the  same  manner,  but  uanally  in  smaller  quantities. 
After  that  they  are  not  again  seen  until  October  of  the  next  year. 
They  appear  thus  to  deposit  their  ova,  which  is  done  by  the  break- 
ing to  pieces  of  the  female  worms;  the  males  also  break  in  the 
same  manner,  the  ova  being  fertilized  while  floating  in  the  water. 
Thus  the  parents  are  destroyed  in  propagating  their  species.  The 
eggs  gradually  sink  down  to  the  reef  where  they  are  hatched.  The 
young  papolo  then  live  about  the  reef  until  the  next  year,  when 
they  repeat  the  process.  Year  by  year  these  creatures  appear 
according  to  lunar  time.  Yet,  in  the  long  run,  they  keep  solar 
time.  This  they  do  by  keeping  two  cycles,  cne  of  three  years  and 
one  of  twenty-nine  years.  In  the  short  cycle  there  are  two  inter- 
vals of  twelve  lunations  each,  and  one  of  thirteen  lunations.  These 
thirty-seven  lunations  bring  lunar  time  somewhat  near  to  solar 
time.  But  in  the  course  of  twenty-nine  years  there  will  be  suffi- 
cient difference  to  require  the  addition  of  another  lunation  ;  the 
twenty-ninth  year  is  therefore  ono  of  thirteen  instead  of  twelve 
lunations.  In  this  way  they  do  not  change  their  season  during  an 
entire  century.  So  certain  has  been  their  appearance  that  in  Samoa 
they  have  given  their  name  to  the  spring  season,  which  is  vae- 
palolo,  or  the  time  of  palolo.^ 

The  Atolls. — The  atolls  differ  in  almost  every  respect 
from  the  islands  of  volcanic  origin.  Little  that  is  said  of 
one  class  would  be  true  of  the  other.  These  coral  islands 
are  all  low,  generally  not  more  than  10  or  12  feet  above 
high-water  mark.  They  are  simply  sandbanks  formed  by 
the  accumulation  of  debris  washed  on  to  the  reefs  during 
strong  winds.  Hence  they  are  usually  ik  the  shape  of  a 
narrow  band,  varying  from  a  few  yards  to  one-third  of  a 
mile  across,  near  the  outer  edge  of  the  reef,  with  a  lagoon 
in  the  centre.  In  some  of  the  smaller  atolls  the  circle  of 
land  is  almost  or  entirely  complete,  but  in  most  of  those  of 
larger  dimensions  there  are  breaks  to  leeward,  and  the  sea 
washes  freely  over  the  reef  into  the  lagoon.  Where  the 
circle  of  land  is  complete  the  sea-water  gains  access  to  the 
central  lagoon  through  the  reef  underneath  the  islands.  In 
some  it  bubbles  up  at  the  rise  of  the  tide  in  the  midst  of 
the  lagoons,  forming  immense  natitral  fountains.  This  has 
been  observed  producing  a  specially  fine'  eifect  at  Nui  in 
the  Ellice  group.  Some  of  these  atolls  are  not  more  than 
3  or  4  miles  in  their  greatest  length.  Others  are  many 
miles  long.  They  are  not  all  circular,  but  are  of  all  con- 
ceivable shapes.^ 

*  For  fuller  details,  see  article  by  the  present  writer  ia  Proc. 
Zow.  Soc.  of  Land.,  1875,  p.  496. 

*  On  the  formation  of  atolls  and  of  coral  reefs  generally,  see 
CoHALS,  vol.  vi.  377,  and  Pacific,  vol.  xviii.  p.  128. 


Two  of  the  atolls  known  to  the  present  writer  are 
remarkable.  The  lagoons  in  them  are  of  fresh  water. 
One  of  these")S  Lakena  in  the  Ellice  group,  the  other 
Olosenga.  or  Quiros  Island,  in  11°  2'  S.  lat.  and  171°  W. 
long.  Both  are  small  circular  islands,  and  in  both  the 
lagoon  is  shut  off  from  the  sea.  Olosenga  is  less  than  4 
miles  in  diameter,  the  lagoon  occupying  over  3  miles, 
leaving  a  ring  of  land  around  it  less  than  half  a  milo 
across.  In  some  places  the  lagoon  is  at  least  6  fathoms 
deep.  This  bulk  of  fresh  water  cannot,  therefore,  be  the 
result  of  drainage.  There  is  much  to  favour  the  opinioa 
that  both  this  island  and  Lakena  are  situated  over  the 
craters  of  former  volcanoes,  and  that  there  is  submarine 
connexion  between  them  and  some  of  the  larger  islands 
situated  on  the  volcanic  ridge  from  which  the  body 
of  fresh  water  must  come.  Olosenga  is  about  200  miles 
distant  from  Samoa.  In  that  group  mountain  streams 
sometimes  fall  into  chasms  and  totally  disappear  under- 
ground. In  this  way  subterranean  lakes  may  be  formed 
in  some  of  the  cavities  which  we  may  suppose  volcanic 
eruptions  to  leave.  It  is  not  difficult  to  suppose  that 
there  would  be  subterranean  connexion  between  these 
lakes  and  an  isolated  crater  200  miles  distant.  If  so, 
as  the  crater  participated  in  the  subsidence  of  the  region 
on  the  edge  of  which  it  is  situated,  the  water  would 
rise  in  it  untU,  if  the  supply  were  sufEcient,  it  there 
found  an  outlet.  This  appears  to  be  what  occurs  at 
Olosenga.  The  lake  has  never  been  properly  examined 
and  sounded.  It  i-s,  however,  of  considerable  depth  in 
the  centre,  where  the  water  is  said  sometimes  to  bubble 
up  as  if  from  a  great  spring,  and  at  low  tide  it  is  seen 
to  percolate  through  the  sand  on  the  outer  or  sea  side  of 
the  land. 

The  vegetation  of  the  atolls  is  extremely  poor,  not  more 
than  about  fifty  tpecies  of  plants  being  found  in  the  Tokelau, 
Ellice,  and  Gilbert  groups,  in  all  of  which  groups  collec- 
tions have  been  made.  All  the  species  consist  of  littoral 
plants  found  in  the  volcanic  islands.  Most  of  them  have 
their  seeds  enveloped  in  thick  husks,  which  specially  fit 
them  for  being  carried  by  currents.  Doubtless  it  is  in 
this  way  that  the  atolls  have  received  their  flora.  The 
cocoa-nut  is  abundant  on  most  of  these  islands.  This 
most  useful  palm  will  grow  on  any  sandbank  in  the  tropics, 
and  it  is  benefited  by  having  its  roots  in  soil  saturated 
with  sea  water.  Unlike  the  natives  of  volcanic  islands, 
those  dweUing  on  the  atolls  eat  the  raw  kernel  of  the  nut 
in  large  quantities.  Indeed  that,  with  fish  and  the  fruit  of 
a  screw-pine  {Pandanus),  constitutes  the  main  food  supplj' 
on  some  atoUf  The  people  make,  the  pulp  of  the  pandanuii 
into  a  kind  of  cake,  in  appearance  much  like  a  quantitj/ 
of  old  dates.  In  some  atolls  a  somewhat  elaborate  system 
of  cultivation  has  been  adopted,  by  means  of  which  a* 
coarse  kind  of  taro,  banana,  the  bread-fruit,  &c.,  are  grown. 
These  low  islands  suffer  much  from  drought,  and  the 
natural  soil  is  nothing  but  sand.  The  people,  therefore, 
form  wide  trenches  by  removing  the  sand  untU  they  get 
within  about  2  to  3  feet  of  the  sea-level.  Into  the 
trenches  they  put  all  the  vegetable  refuse  and  manure  they 
can  obtain,  and,  as  there  is  more  moisture  at  this  level, 
those  excavated  gardens  are  comparatively  fertile.  Under 
the  influence  of  a  Christian  civilization,  which  is  growing, 
and  by  the  introduction  of  new  food-producing  plants, 
the  condition  of  the  natives  is  improving ;  but  they  still 
suffer  much  at  times  from  long-continued  seasons  of 
drought. 

The  fauna  of  the  atolls  consists  mainly  of  a  few  birds, 
some  lizards,  and  insects.  Fish  abound  about  the  reefs, 
and  most  of  the  natives  are  deep-sea  fishermen.  In  the 
Ellice  Islands  the  people  domesticate  frigate-birds.  Large 
numbers  of  these  pets  may  be  seen  about  the  village* 


POLYNESIA 


421 


As  the  birds  arc  accustomed  to  visit  different  islands  when 
the  wind  is  favourable,  the  peoplo  send  by  them  small 
]ireseuts  (fish-hooks,  A-c.)  to  their  friends.  Christian  mis- 
sionaries also  occasionally  use  them  as  letter-carriers  for 
communicating  with  one  another. 

Elevated  Coral  Islamh. — There  are  comparatively  few 
of  the  elevated  coral  islands  in  Polynesia,  but  they  are  so 
distinct  from  both  the  atolls  and  the  volcanic  islands  that 
they  need  a  separate  description.  They  all  lie  within  or 
near  the  lines  marking  off  the  volcanic  ridge  upon  the 
map.  South  of  the  volcanic  ridge  there  are  many  coral 
reefs  forming  shoals.  The  elevated  coral  islands  doubtless 
were  once  such  reefs.  Lying  within  the  area  of  volcanic 
action,  they  have  participated  in  the  upward  movement, 
and  have  been  raised  from  shoals  to  become  islands. 
Some  have  evidently  been  lifted  by  successive  stages  and 
apparently  by  sudden  movements.  This  is  clearly  seen 
in  the  Loyalty  Islands.  On  approaching  them  one  sees 
high  coral  cliffs,  in  appearance  much  like  the  chalk  cliffs 
of  England,  except  that  they  are  often  some  distance 
inland  and  not  close  on  the  shore.  The  island  of  Mare 
may  be  taken  as  a  good  type  of  the  class.  Here,  between 
the  shore  and  the  coral  cliffs,  there  is  a  tract  of  level  land 
varying  from  a  few  yards  to  perhaps  one-fourth  of  a  mile 
or  more  across.  On  this  level  tract  the  people  mainly 
dwell.  At  the  back  of  this  there  rises  a  perpendicular 
wall  of  coral,  in  some  places  as  much  as  a  hundred  feet 
high.  The  cliff  is  water-worn,  and  has  in  it  large  caverns, 
showing  that  for  a  long  period  it  was  the  coastline. 
Still  farther  inland  there  are  two  similar  though  smaller 
cliffs,  indicating  that  there  were  three  distinct  upheavals. 
These  must  have  been  at  very  long  intervals.  At  present 
the  island  is  fringed  with  a  coral  reef,  and  if  it  were  now 
to  be  lifted  from  fifty  to  one  hundred  feet  the  present 
coast-line  would  form  another  cliff,  while  the  present  coral 
reef  would  form  another  low  plot  similar  to  that  upon 
which  the  people  now  dwell. 

'  These  islands  afe  old  enough  to  have  a  considerable 
depth  of  vegetable  soil  upon  them.  The  low  land  between 
the  coast  and  the  first  cliff  is  well  stocked  with  cocoa-nut 
and  other  trees.  None  of  the  islands  can  be  compared 
with  the  volcanic  islands  for  fertility,  all  having  a  less  rich 
Boil  and  being  much  drier ;  still  they  are  fairly  fertile. 
They  suffer  sometimes  from  drought,  but  are  much  less 
seriously  affected  in  this  way  than  the  atolls. 

The  flora  of  the  elevated  coral  islands  is  less  rich  than 
that  of  the  volcanic  islands,  but  much  richer  than  that 
of  the  atolls.  The  island  of  Niue  may  bo  taken  as  a  fair 
specimen  of  this  class.  Its  flora  probably  contains  between 
400  and  500  species,  nearly  all  being  such  as  are  found  on 
adjacent  volcanic  islands.  The  fauna  is  also  much  richer 
than  that  of  the  atolls,  but  poorer  than  that  of  the  volcanic 
islands.  '  Birds  are  numerous.  While  most  of  the  species 
are  identical  with  those  found  in  neighbouring  volcanic 
islands,  there  are  some  interesting  local  variations  well 
illustrating  the  modifications  which  take  place  from  isola- 
tion under  changed  surroundings.  In  some  instances 
the  differences  are  so  great  that  local  forms  have  been, 
classed  not  only  as  varieties  but  as  distinct  species. 

Climate. — The  climate  of  the  islands  varies  considerably, 
tis  may  be  naturally  expected  when  the  wide  area  covered 
is  remembered,  and  the  vast  difference  there  is  between 
the  islands  themselves.  Some,  especially  the  elevated  coral 
islands,  are  very  healthy  for  tropical  regions.  Speaking 
generally,  the  average  reading  of  the  thermometer  over  a 
large  extent  of  Polynesia  is  about  80°  Fahr.  It  very 
seldom  sinks  lower  than  60°,  and,  owing  to  the  small  size 
of  most  of  the  islands,  and  the  prevalence  of  trade-winds 
during  the  greater  portion  of  the  year,  the  heat  is  always 
juoderated,  and  rarely  becomes  intense.     Yet.  owing  to  thft 


constant  licat  and  to  the  humidity  of  the  atmosphere, 
the  cliuiate  in  the  mountainous  islands  is  trying  to  the 
European  constitution.  But  in  this  re.spect  there  is  a 
great  difference  even  between  groups  which,  looked  at 
superficially,  appear  to  be  similar,  and  which  lie  witliiii 
almost  the  same  parallels  of  latitude.  All  the  islands 
eastward  from  and  including  Fiji  are  much  more  healthy 
than  are  those  to  the  west.  In  the  eastern  section  fever 
and  ague  are  of  rare  occurrence  ;  in  the  western  section 
European  missionaries  do  not  find  it  expedient  to  remain 
for  long  periods  on  the  islands  owing  to  the  weakening 
effects  of  frequent  attacks  of  these  diseases.  The  most 
remarkable  thing  is  that  natives  of  the  eastern  section 
suffer  even  more  than  Europeans  when  they  go  to  live  in 
the  western  islands,  the  mortality  among  them  being  very 
great.  Numerous  attempts  have  been  made  to  evangelize 
the  New  Hebrides  through  the  agency  of  natives  of  the 
Samoan,  Cook,  and  Society  groups ;  but,  owing  to  the 
great  mortality  among  the  agents,  their  efforts  have 
failed.  Yet  these  people  have  lived  there  under  condi- 
tions very  similar  to  those  they  were  accustomed  to  at 
home,  the  heat  being  about  the  same,  and  the  food  similar, 
as  well  as  the  general  mode  of  life.  The  causes  of  the 
difference  are  as  yet  unknown.  Possibly  the  explanation 
will  be  found  in  differences  of  natural  drainage.  It  has 
often  occurred  to  the  present  writer,  though  only  as  an 
unverified  theory,  that  the  bases  of  these  western  islands 
are,  like  that  of  New  Caledonia,  of  older  formation,  and 
that  the  islands  are  only  superficially  volcanic.  If  so,  this 
may  account  for  their  unhealthiness  as  Compared  with  the 
purely  volcanic  islands  within  the  same  parallels  of  lati- 
tude. In  comparison  with  most  tropical  countries  there  ia 
little  dysentery  in  Polynesia ;  but  this  also  is  more  com- 
mon in  the  west  than  in  the  east." 

The  elevated  coral  islands  are  always  much  more  healthy 
than  are  those  of  volcanic  formation  in  their  immediate 
neighbourhood.  They  are  drier,  being  always  well  drained, 
have  much  less  dense  vegetation,  and  receive  the  benefit 
of  the  trade-winds  which  blow  right  across  them.  They, 
however,  sometimes  suffer  from  drought  such  as  is  unknown 
on  the  volcanic  islands.  The  atolls  may  be  called — if 
the  term  can  be  applied  to  tiny  islets  scattered  over  the 
expanse  of  ocean — the  deserts  of  the  Pacific.  The  soil 
being  almost  entirely  sand,  and  the  vegetation  afford- 
ing little  shade,  the  heat  and  glare,  especially  of  those 
lying  close  to  the  equator,  are  exceedingly  trying  to 
European  visitors.  Being  so  low — only  a  few  feet  above 
the  ocean — there  is  nothing  to  attract  the  clouds,  and  the 
rainfall  is  small.  The  islands  are  therefore  subject  to 
frequent  droughts,  which  are  sometimes  of  month's  dura- 
tion ;  and  at  such  times  even  the  fronds  of  the  cocoa-nut 
palm  get  a  shrivelled  appearance,  and  the  trees  cease  to 
bear  fruit.  Sometimes  the  people  suffer  greatly  during 
these  long-continued  droughts,  many  being  starved  to 
death.  At  best  their  food  supply  is  confined  to  cocoa- 
nuts,  pandanus,  fruit,  and  fish,  but  in  times  of  drought 
they  are  forced  to  chew  the  roots  of  shrubs. 

Hurricanes. — A  great  portion  of  southern  Polynesia  is 
subject  to  destructive  cyclones.  The  tract  over  which  they 
pass  may  be  said  to  be,  generally,  that  of  the  volcanic  chain 
indicated  by  the  lines  on  the  map,  although '  the  northern 
edge  of  this  region  is  not  so  subject  to  cyclones  as  the 
southern  portion.  A.  line  drawn  parallel  to  the  lines 
of  the  map,  through  the  middle  of  the  New  Hebrides 
group,  and  extending  south  of  Fiji,  will  well  represent  the 
centre  of  the  cyclone  tract.  The  hurricane  season  is  from 
December  to  April.  Some  islands  are  visited  by  a  more  or 
less  destructive  cyclone  nearly  every  year ;  Samoa  lies  on 
the  upper  edge  of  the  tract,  and  gets  one,  on  an  average, 
about  every  seven  or  eight  years.     Although  these  cyclone* 


422 


POLYNESIA 


arc  not  usually  so  severe  as  those  which  visit  the  seas  of 
eastern  jVsia,  they  are  often  exceedingly  destructive, 
sweeping  almost  everything  down  in  their  course.  They 
last  only  a  few  hours.  Heavy  seas  are  raised  in  the 
line  of  progress,  and  vessels  are  generally  e.xposed  to 
greater  danger  when  lying  at  anchor  at  the  ports  than 
when  in  the  open  sea.  The  cyclones  are  always  accom- 
l>anied  by  considerable  electric  disturbances,  especially 
when  they  a'e  passing  away. 

Diseases. — Apart  from  the  fever,~  ague,  and  dysentery 
already  alluded  to,  there  is  comparatively  little  disease  in 
any  portion  of  Polynesia.  ^The  principal  purely  native 
diseases  are  such  as  affect  the  skin.'^  A  form  of  elephan- 
tiasis prevails  more  or  kss  on  all  the  damp  mountainous 
inlands.  Many  Europeans  are  subject  to  it,  especially 
those  who  are  much  exposed  to  the  sun  by  day  and  the 
dews  by  night.  la  some  of  the  atolls  where  the  people 
have  little  good  vegetable  food  and  eat  a  g«at  quantity 
of  fish,  much  of  it  often  in  a  state  unfit  for  food,  skrii 
diseases  are  even  more  common  than  in  the  mountainous 
islands.  There  are  reputed  cases  of  leprosy  in  the  Gilbert 
Islands,  and  that  disease  is  well  known  to  be  one  of  the 
scourges  of  the  Hawaiian  archipelago.  Several  European 
diseases  have  been  introduced  into  the  islands, — those 
which  are  epidemic  usually,  at  the  first  visitation,  working 
great  havoc  among  the  natives.  Many  in  Europe  and 
America  appear  to  attribute  the  great  mortality  which 
occurs  among  native  races,  when  an  epidemic  is  introduced 
among  them,  to  weakness  and  want  of  stamina  in  their 
constitution ;  but  a  more  probable  explanation  is  found  in 
the  fact_  that,  on  the  introduction  of  measles  or  smallpox, 
all  the  inhabitants  of  an  island  are  suitable  subjects,  that 
the  population  of  entire  villages  are  prostrated  at  once, 
that  there  are  no  doctors  or  nurses,  none  even  to  feed  the 
sick  or  to  give  them  drink,  and  not  even  the  most  ordin- 
ary care  is  taken  by  the  sufferers  themselves  to  lessen  the 
danger.i  In  some  islands,  especially  the  Hawaiian  group 
syiihilis,  first  imported  by  Captain  Cook's  expedition,  has 
wrought  great  havoc.  It  spread  very  rapidly,  because, 
at  that  time,  there  was  almost  promiscuous  intercourse 
between  the  sexes;  and  this  has  been  one  of  the  chief 
causes  of  the  physical  deterioration  and  of  the  rapid 
decrease  of  the  natives  of  Hawaii.  The  disease  has 
been  introduced  into  other  islands  in  later  times  through 
the  visits  of  European  and  American  sailors  ;  but,  owing 
to  the  influence  of  Christian  teaching,  which  has  in  many 
cases  gone  first  and  has  produced  a  change  for  the  better 
in  the  relations  of  the  sexes,  it  has  not  generally  spread. 

Jiaccs.— There  are  three  different  kinds  of  people  inhabitinf  the 
islands  of  Polynesia.  The  region  occupied  by  each  is  indicated 
by  one  of  the  colours  on  Plate  III.,  and  in  the  subjoined  table  of 
Indo-Pacifio  peoples  the  affinity  of  these  races  is  exhibited.^  It 
will  be  seen  that  there  are  two  broad  and  very  distinct  divkions,— 
the  dark  and  tlie  brown  races.  The  dark  people  occupy  Australia, 
the  Andaman  Islands,  portions  of  the  Indian  archipelago,  and 
western  Polynesia,  and  have  more  or  less  remote  affinity  wth  the 
natives  of  South  Africa.  The  brown  people  are  found  in  lladaijascar, 
the  Indian  Archipelago,  Formosa,  north-western  and  eastern  Poly- 
nesia, together  with  New  Zealand,  and  are  clearly  of  Asiatic  origin. 

There  are  in  Polynesia  people  who  belong  to  both  the  dark  and 
tlie  light  sections  of  the  ludo-Paciac  races.  At  present  the  dark 
are  lound  only  in  the  western  islands  as  far  as  Fiji.     In  some  islands 

'In  these  warm  islands  the  people  are  generally  accustomed  to 
bathe  often.  When  measles  prevailed  in  Fiji  many  of  those  who 
were  m  a  high  fever  crawled  to  the.  bathing  places  to  cool  them- 
Mlves,  and  many  died  there.  The  -present  writer  once  visited  several 
Inlands  of  the  Elli^e  group  about  a  fortnight  after  a  trading  vessel 
from  Sydney,  whicK  had  influenza  on  board.  This  vessel  had  taken 
some  of  the  natives  from  one  island  to  another  as  passengers,  and  at 
three  of  the  islands  the  entire  population  was  suflTering  from  the 
epidemic.  Had  this  been  a  more  severe  disease  the  people  would  have 
been  utterly  helpless. 

'Compare  Mr  Whitmee's  paper  on  this  subject  in  Joum.  Anlhroj    ' 
Inst.  Land.,  1879.  •^' 


they  .arc  considerably  mi.\-cil  with  the  lighter  race,  and  in  many 
phccs  witlnii  the  region  occupied  by  tlieiu  are  colonics  of  the  light 
people  who  keep  tlicm.sclvcs  distinct.  For  this  dark  race  the  name 
lapuan  is  here  used.  They  have  generally  been  known  of  Jatc 
years  as  Ulchniesians,  but  Papuan  is  .an  older  name  which  ;iias 
nhvaj's  boon  used  for  part  of  the  race,  and  which  clearly  ou^ht  to 
bo  extended  to  the  whole.  The  re,gion  wliich  they  inhabit  is 
coloured  yellow  on  the  map,  and  the  pink  bands  across  it  indicate 
tlie  presence  of  some  of  the  light  race  there. 

The  whole  of  eastern  Polynesia  is  inhabited  by  a  light  bT=o>vn 
people  to  whom  the  name  Sawaiori  is  here  given. 3  They  extend 
out  of  Polynesia  to  New  Zealand.  They  have  also  forn.ed  colonies 
among  the  Ia|.uaiis  in  various  places,  and  in  some  instances  they 
have  become  nii.^ed  in  blood  with  the  blacks  among  whom  they  have 
settled.     The  pink  colour  in  the  map  indicates  this  region. 

Ihe  third  kind  of  people,  here  called  Taraiion,-"  inhabit~the 
northern  portion  of  western  Polynesia,  the  islands  generally  known 
as  Micronesia  (coloured  green  on  the  map). 

The  following  table  shows  the  relationship  of  the  Indo-Pacifio 
races  (Polynesian  names  in  italics):— 
Races. 
C  Austral. 

Negrito. 


Indo- 
Pacific 
Races  of  ' 

Men. 


Dark  People : 

Negi'ito- 
Polynesians. 


Brown 

People : 
Malayo- 
(.  Polynesians. 


Countries  where  founil. 
Australia. 
I  Andaman  Islands. 
I  Samang,  &c. 
I"  Aru  Islands. 
.  I  Western  New  Guinea, 

KPapuan.       ■{  Solomon  Islands,  i-c. 
I  Ncio  Hebrides,  d:c. 

I  Samoa,  ic. 
Haiuaii. 
Cook  Islnvds,  <£-c. 
Socict;/  Jsla7ids,  d-c. 
'New  Zealand. 
Malagasy.        Madagascar. 
Formosan.       Formosa. 
Malayan       S  Malays  of  Sumatra,  &c. 
(  Java,  &c. 

!  Caroline  Islatids. 
Marshall  Islands. 
Gilbert  Islands. 
I.  T!tc  Papuans.— This  name  is  that  used  bv  the  JIalays  of  the 
Indian  Archipelago  for  the  black,  frizzlvhaired  people  found  in 
the  Aru  Islands  and  New  Guinea.  That  the  inhabitants  of  the 
western  portion  of  Polynesia  ought  to  be  classed  with  these  Papuans 
there  can  be  no  doubt.  The  older  name  is  therefore  adopted  here 
to  include  the  whole,  rather  than  the  newer  and  less  distinctive 
name  Melanesian  which  has  been  applied  to  only  a  part  of  the  race. 
A  general  descrijition  of  the  people  is  all  that  can  be  given  here ; 
for  further  details  the  reader  is  refen-ed  to  the  articles  Melanesia, 
New  GuiNE.'i,  &c.  In  speaking  of  the  affinities  of  the  Papuans 
ith  other  peoples  much  caution  is  required;  but  there  is  some 
reason  for  thinking  they  may  be  remotely  classified,  together  with 
all  the  other  black  people  of  the  southern  hemisphere,  with  the 
tribes  of  South  Africa.*    See  Negho. 

The  Papuans  are  mostly  black,  but  are  not  of  a  jet  black.'  In 
some  islands  they  are  lighter  than  in  others.  It  was  long  popularlv 
supposed  that  tlieir  hair  grew  in  small  tufts.  This  was,  however", 
a  mistake  which  probably  arose  from  the  manner  in  which  many  of 
them  are  accustomed  to  dress  it.  On  some  islands  the  men  collect 
their  hair  into  small  bunches,  and  carefully  bind  each  bunch  round 
with  fine  vegetable  fibre  from  the  roots  up  to  within  about  two 
inches  of  the  ends.  Dr  Turner «  gives  a  good  description  of  this 
process.    He  once  counted  the  bunches  on  a  young  man's  head,  and 

'  There  has  hitherto  been  no  one  well  understood  name  used  for 
this  people.  They  are  generally  called  "  Polynesians  "  simply,  some- 
times Malayo-Polynesians,"  and  recently  the  name  "Mahori"  (a 
vile  corruption  of  "  Maori  ")  has  been  proposed  for  them.  For  evident 
reasons  we  need  some  more  distinct  name  than  Polynesian.  Malayo- 
Polynesian  cannot  be  confined  to  them,  but  must  rather  be  extended 
to  the  whole  family  of  which  they  are  but  a  branch.  Sawaion  is  a 
compound  from  -Sa-mo.!,  Ha-«,-ai-i,  and  Ma-ori,  thus  derived  from  the 
native  names  of  the  three  principal  peoples. 

*  The  name  "  Micronesians "  has  been  generally  adopted.  Mr 
Horatio  Hale,  in  his  great  work  on  the  Ethnography  and  Philology 

of  the   United  Stales  Exploring  Expedition,   adopted   Tdrawa the 

name  of  one  of  the  Gilbert  Islands,  there  being  no  native  name  for  the 
entire  group— for  the  language  of  that  group.  The  present  writer 
takes  part  of  this  name,  7VSr-a-wa,  and  part  of  the  name  of  the  prin- 
cipal island  in  the  Caroliue  Islands,  viz.,  Po»-a-pe,  to  form  the  com- 
pound name  Tdr-a-pon. 

'  The  Rev.  R.  H.  Codrington  believes  the  Papuan  (Melanesian)  lan- 
guages belong  to  the  same  stock  as  the  rest  of  the  Polynesian  languages. 
But.  as  is  pointed  oat  by  Prof.  Keane,  he  entirely  overlooks  the  phy- 
sical aspects  of  the  question.     See  Joum.  A  nlhrop.  Soc.  Lend.,  1834. 

»  Nineteen  Years  in  Polynesia,  pp.  7j,.7B.;  Samoa,  pp.  308-310. 


POLYNESIA 


423 


found  nearly  seven  hundred.     He  calls  attention  to  the  resemblance  i 
bcuveen  the  head  of  a  Papuan,  with  his  hair  thus  dressed,  and  the  | 
conventional  representation  of  the  hair  in  Egyptian  and  Assyrian  j 
sculptures,  and  to  what  Dr  Livingstone  says  about  the  Banyai  of 
South  Africa,  who  dress  their  hair  in  a  similar  manner.      When 
allowed  to  grow  naturally,  tlio  hair  of  a  Papuan  is  always  frizzly. 
.Some  of  the  people  have  a  considerable  beard. 

In  tlie  features  of  the  Papuans  there  is  considerable  difference; 
but  in  a  typical  .specimen  the  lips  are  thick,  the  nose  is  broad, 
often  arched  and  high,  and  the  jaws  project;  as  a  rule,  the  race  is 
prognathous.  They  are  generally  small  in  stature,  but  in  some 
islands  are  large.  Where,  however,  they  are  of  Lirge  size,  we  iu- 
vaiiably  find  other  evidence  of  their  mixture  with  another  race; 
Speaking,  therefore,  of  typical  Papuans,  we  may  say  they  arc  small, 
with  thin  limbs,  and  ar-e  physically  weak.  In  their  natural  eondi- 
tiof.  they  arc  a  savaga  people  and  are  cannibals.  Tliey  are  broken 
up  fnto  hostile  tribes,  holJing  no  intorconrse  with  one  another  ex- 
cept by  wtrfare.  The  languages  or  dialects '  spoken  by  them  are 
very  numerous,  owing,  no  doubt,  to  their  hostility  towards  one 
incther,  which  has  produced  complete  isolation.  In  grammatical 
structure  there  is  considerable  resemblance  between  tlieir  languages, 
but  owing  to  long  isolation  the  verbal  differences  have  become  very 
t'reat.     Several  different  dialects  arc  often  found  on  one  island. 

.Vmong  them  women  hold  a  very  low  position.  Nearly  all  the 
la  il  work  falls  to  their  share,  the  men  devoting  themselves  chiefly 
1 .)  r/arfare.  The  women  cultivate  the  plantations,  carry  the  burdens, 
I II' I  wait  on  the  men.  They  take  their  food  from  tlie  leavings  of 
thii  men.  Among  most  of  them  family  life  is  not  greatly  elevated 
aljDve  the  relationships  existing  among  the  lower  animals,  the 
rc'.itions  between  the  seies  being  of  the  most  degraded  character. 
Th'ire  is,  however,  considerable  affection  often  manifested  towards 
thoir  children.  The  Papuans  arc  impulsive  and  demonstrative  in 
ape!ch  and  action.  They  are  generally  a  wild,  noisy,  boisterous 
peo.ile,  easily  pleased  and  as  easily  o.fended.  They  differ  so  mnch 
in  different  islands,  however,  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  to 
gETieralizo  concerning  some  of  their  characteristics,  jlany  of  them 
are  decidedly  low  intellectually.  On  some  islands  they  appear  to 
be  physically  and  intellectually  a  weak  and  worn-out  race.  Yet 
tliis  must  not  be  understood  as  applying  to  all.  On  some  islands 
yonths  and  men  may  be  seen  who  are  among  the  brightest  and 
most  intelligentdooking  people  in  the  Pacific.  A  vast  difference 
exists  between  the  natives  of  parts  of  the  New  Hebrides  and 
those  of  the  I/oyalty  Islands,  the  latter  being  much  the  fiijer. 
Mixture  of  blood  may  partly  account  for  the  difference.  Difference 
of  physical  surroundings,  doubtless,  also  has  something  to  do  with 
it.  The  dry,  comparatively  barren,  and  cooler,  islands  of  the 
Loyalty  group  ought  to  have  a  finer  people  upon  them  than  the 
malarious,  hot,  and  moist  islands  of  tne  New  Hebrides.  In  Fiji 
some  of  the  finest  men  in  Polynesia  are  found,  but  many  of  the 
Fijians  are  considci'ably  mixed  with  Sawaiori  blood. 

As  a  rule,  the  Papuans  lack  elaborate  historical  traditions,  poems, 
and  songs,  such  as  ate  invariably  found  among  the  Sawaiori  race. 
They  do  not  naturally  possess  much  religious  feeling  or  reverence, 
and  their  religious  systems  are  little  more  than  feticliism.  In  this 
respect,  too,  they  present  a  marked  contrast  to  the  lighter  race. 
In  aits  ami  mamifactures  tliey  are  comparatively  low,  although 
tliere  are  marked  exceptions.  Usually  their  houses  are  very  poor 
structures.  Oji  many  islands  their  canoes  arc  of  inferior  construction. 
As  a  race  they  are  indifferent  navigators.  Their  arms  are,  how- 
ever, somewhat  elaborately  made;  and  most  of  them  make  a  coarse 
kinrl  of  pottery.  In  some  parts  of  the  Solomon  Islands  the  people 
build  much  better  houses  than  are  usually  found  among  the 
Papuans,  earring  some  of  the  woodwork  lather  elaborately.  They 
also  build  good  canoes  or  boats.  In  Fiji  the  natives  build  good 
liouses  and  good  boats,  but  there  the  people  have  learned  some  of 
their  arts  from  the  Sawaioris.  It  may  be  so  also  in  the  Solomon 
Ifroiip.  Indeed,  throughout  the  whole  of  the  Papuan  region,  there 
is  evidence  of  more  or  less  mixture  of  the  two  races.  In  some 
iilnces  thcra  are  pure  colonics  of  Sawaioris,  who  keep  themselves 
distinct  from  their  darker-coloured  neighbours  ;  but  in  many  other 
places  the  lighter  immigrants  have  intermarried  with  the  black  race. 

The  following  are  some  broad  characteristics  of  the  Papuan 
languasfcs.  Consonants  arc  freely  used,  some  of  the  conRouant;d 
eoumls  being  difficult  to  represent  by  Roman  characters.  Many  of 
the  syllables  aro  closed.  Tliere  does  not  appear  to  bo  any  difforcnco 
I'otween  the  definite  and  the'  indefinite  article,  except  in  Fiji. 
Nouns  are  divided  into  two  classes,  one  of  which  takes  a  pro- 
nominal suffix,  while  the  other  never  takes  such  a  suflix.  The 
principle  of  this  division  appears  to  be  a  noar  or  remote  connexion 
lietween  the  possessor  and  the  thing  popsessod.  Those  things  which 
belong  to  a  person,  as  the  parts  of  his  body,  ic,  take  the  pro- 
uomiiial  iuflix ;   a  thing  possessed  merely  for  use  would  not  take 

'No  Krcat  cnro  Is  licrc  tokpn  to  dljtlncnlsh  bptncen  the  Icrros  Uncoaro  and 
llUixts.  While  All  tlio  lnn(;anf:ts  of  PclMie!.la  mny  he  Incliidrd  imiirr  (hice 
jlAMc,  wc  cannot  «pcnk  of  thrm  n%  tlri-co  IfinRu'nRi-s,  cnrh  with  niimirous 
llnlrcK.  nnjr  mm  c  than  we  coulil  upcnk  of  those  langniigcs  ulilch  huvo  grown  out 
01  the  Li'im  OS  ici'cral  illiUvcts  o(  one  language. 


it  Thus,  in  Fijian  the  word  luve  means  either  a  son  or  a 
daughter — one's  own  child,  and  it  >akes  the  posseesive  pronoun 
suffixed,  as  luvcna  ;  but  the  word  ngoiie,  a  child,  but  not  neces- 
sarily one's  own  child,  takes  the  possessive  pronoun  bafore  it,  aa 
nona  ngmie,  his  child,  i.e.,  his  to  look  after  or  bring  up."  Gender 
is  only  sexual.  Many  words  are  used  indiscriminately,  as  nouns, 
adjectives,  or  verbs,  without  change ;  but  sometimes  a  noun  is 
indicated  by  its  termination.  In  most  of  the  languages  tliere  are 
no  changes  in  nouns  to  form  the  plural,  but  an  added  numeral 
indicates  number.  Case  is  shown  by  particles,  which  precede  the 
nouns.  AdjectivesfoUow  their  substantives.  Pronouns  aie  numer- 
ous, and  the  personal  pronoun  includes  four  numbers — singular, 
dual,  trinal,  and  general  plnral,  also  inclusive  and  exclusive. 
Almost  any  word  may  be  made  into  a  verb  by  using  with  it  a 
verbal  particle.  The  difference  in  the  verbal  particles  in  the 
different  languages  are  very  great.  In  the  verbs  there  are  causative, 
intensive  or  frequentative,  and  reciprocal  forms. 

II.  The  Saxoaiori  Race. — The  brown  people  who  occupy  the 
islands  of  eastern  Polynesia  are  generally  regarded  as  having 
affinities  with  the  Jlalays  of  the  Indian  Archipelago,  and  are 
sometimes  spoken  of  as  a  branch  of  the  Malay  race,  or  family. 
They  cannot,  however,  with  any  accuracy  be  so  described.  *  The 
Malays,  as  they  now  exist,  are  a  compaiatively  modern  people,  who 
have  become  what  they  are  by  the  mixture  of  several  elenienfis  not 
found  in  the  more  primitive  race.  The  Sawaioris  and  the  Tarapoiis 
of  Polynesia,  the  Malagasy  (Hovas)  of  Madagascar,  and  the  ilalays 
are  allied  laccs,  but  no  one  of  them  can  be  regarded  aa  the\paieut 
of  the  rest.  The  parent  .race  has  disappeared  ;  but  the  Sawaiori,  as 
the  earliest  offshoot  from  it,  and  one  which,  owing  to  the  conditions 
under  which  it  has  lived,  has  remained  almost  free  from  admixture 
of  blood,  may  bo  taken  as  most  nearly  representing  what  the  parent 
was.  The  relationship  which  these  ilalayo-Polynesian  ^  races  bear 
to  one  anotiier  is  seen  from  the  "  tree  "  on  Plate  III. 

The  absence  of  Sanskrit  (or  Prakrit)  roots  in  the  languages 
appears  to  indicate  that  the  Sawaiori  migration  was  in  pre- 
Sanskritio  times.*  Whether  v.'c  can  fix  anything  like  a  defiiiile 
date  for  this  may  well  be  questioned.  Mr  Fonmuder'  has,  how- 
ever, with  great  probability,  traced  back  the  history  of  the 
Hawaiians  to  the  5th  century.  Ho  has  studied  the  folk-lore  of 
those  islands  e.xhaustively,  and  from  this  source  comes  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  Sawaiori  migration  from  the  Indian  Archipelago 
may  be  approximately  assigned  to  the  close  of  the  first  or  to  tho 
second  century.  Most  likely  Samoa  was  the  first  group  per- 
manently occupied  by  them.  Owing  to  the  admixture  of  the 
Sawaioris  with  the  Papuans  in  Fiji  some  authorities  have  thought 
the  first  settlement  was  in  those  islands,  and  that  the  settlers  were 
eventually  driven  thence  by  the  Papuan  occupiers.  We  can,  how- 
ever, account  for  the  presence  of  Sawaiori  blood  in  Fiji  iu  another 
way,  viz.,  by  the  intnrcourse  that  has  been  kept  up  between  the 
people  of  Tonga  and  Fiji.  If  the  first  resting-place  of  tlic  Sawaioris 
was  in  that  group,  there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  Samoa  was 
the  first  permanent  home  of  the  race,  and  that  from  Samoa  they 
have  spread  to  the  other  islands  which  they  now  occupy. 

It  used  to  be  doubted  whether  these  people  could  have  gone  from 
the  Indian  Arehipelago  so  far  eastward,  because  the  prevailing 
winds  and  currents  arc  from  the  east.  But  it  is  now  well  known 
that  at  times  tliere  are  westerly  winds  in  the  region  over  which 
they  would  have  to  travel,  and  that  there  would  be  no  insuperable 
difiiculties  in  the  way  of  such  a  voyage.  The  Sawaioris  aro 
invariably  navigators.  There  is  ample  evidence  that  in  early  tiinm 
they  were  much  better  seamen  than  they  aro  at  present.  Indeed 
their  skill  in  navigaticn  has  greatly  declined  since  they  have  become 
known  to  Europeans.  They  used  to  construct  deckeil  vessels 
capable  of  carrying  one  or  two  hundred  persons,  with  water  ami 
stores  suftkient  for  a  voyage  of  some  weeks'  duration.  These  vessels 
were  made  of  planks  well  fitted  and  sewn  together,  the  joints  being 
calked  and  pitched.  It  is  only  in  recent  times  that  the  conRtruc- 
tion  of  such' vessels  has  ceased.  Tho  people  h.id  a  knowledge  oi 
tho  stars,  of  tho  rising  and  setting  of  the  constellations  at  dillorent 
seasons  of  tho  year.  By  this  means  they  determined  the  favourable 
season  for  making  a  voyage  and  directed  their  course. 

The  ancestors  of  tho  Sawaioris  wore  bv  no  means  a  snvago  people 
when  they  entered  tho  Pacific.  Indeed  their  olab'jrale  historical 
legends  show  that  thoy  possessed  a  considerable  amount  of  civiliza- 
tion. Those  who  arc  fumiliifr  with  theso  legends,  and  who  have 
studied  Sawaiori  niannero  and  cuatoms,  see  many  unmistakable 
proofs  that  thoy  carried  with  them,  at  tho  time  of  their  migration, 
Knowledge  and  culture  which  raised  them  much  above  the  status 
of  savages,  and   that  during  their  rcaideuco  in  these  islands  tho 

•  naiIewoo<f'»  Fijtan  (Jrammar,  pp.  8  nnd  9. 

■  Baron  W.  Ton  Hnmboldt'a  name,  MRlayo-PoIriie^lan.  Is  hero  retained  aa  a 
convetiient  te(m  to  include  all  these  people,  from  MadaRa^ear  to  Polyneala. 

•  II  Ib  po.<isiblo  to  make  too  much  of  tite  aharnco  of  Sanskrit  (or  Prakrit)  roota, 
•Incc.  na  remarked  by  Dr  Roat,  "there  may  have  been  no  oreaalon  for  the  Intro- 
dtietion  of  ready-mailo  terma  Into  tho  language."  Still  the  mlgintlon  may  bo 
tentatlveiv  put  in  pre-.Oar.skrItle  times. 

•  Tfir  Potinrttan  /tacr.  toI.  I.  p.  US. 

<  Cocoa. nut  fibre  and  the  pim  which  exudes  fixtn  the  broad-fruit  tl«fl  tn 
goncrolly  uicd  for  "calking"  and  "pitching"  canoes. 


424 


F  0  L  Y  N   E  «  J    A 


race  has  greatly  deteriorated.  Some  indications  of  tteir  former 
condition  will  appear  in  the  following  account  of  the  people. 

The  Sawaioris  are,  physically,  a  very  fine  race.  On  some  islands 
they  average  5  feet  10  inches  in  height,  De  Quatrefages,  in  a 
table  giving  the  stature  of  different  races  of  men,'  puts  the  natives 
of  Samoa  and  Tonga  as  the  largest  people  in  the  world.  He  gives 
the  average  height  of  this  race  as  being  5  feet  9  92  inches.  They 
are  well  developed  in  proportion*  to  their  height.  Their  colour  is 
a  brown,  lighter  or  darker  generally  according  to  the  amount  of 
their  e.vposure  to  the  sun, — being  darker  on  some  of  the  atolls 
where  the  people  spend  much  time  in  fishing,  and  among  fisher- 
men on  the  volcanic  islands,  and  lighter  among  women,  chiefs, 
and  others  less  exposed  than  the  bulk  of  the  people.  Their  hair  is 
black  and  straight ;  but  in  individual  examples  it  is  sometimes 
wavy,  or  shows  a  tendency  to  curl.  They  have  very  little  beard. 
Their  fektures  are  generally  fairly  regular  ;  eyes  invariably  black, 
and  in  some  persons  oblique ;  jaws  not  projecting,  except  in  a  few 
instances;  lips  of  medium  thickness;  noses  generally  short,  but 
rather  wide  at  the  bases.  Their  foreheads  are  fairly  high,  but  rather 
narrow.  When  they  are  young  many  of  the  people  of  both  sexes 
are  good-looking.  The  men  often  have  more  regular  features  tlian 
the  women.  In  former  times  more 'attention  was  paid  to  personal 
appearance  and  adornment  among  men  than  among  the  women. 

As  a  race  the  Sawaioris  are  somewhat  apathetic.  They  differ, 
however,  in  different  islands,  according  to  their  surroundings. 
Most  of  them  live  in  an  enervating  climate  where  nature  is  very 
lavish  of  her  gifts.  Hence  they  lead  easy  lives.  On  the  more 
barren  islands,  and  on  those  more  distant  from  the  equator,  the 
natives  have  much  more  energy.  Under  certain  circumstances 
they  become  excitable,  and  manifest  a  kind  of  care-fornothing 
spirit  This  is  only  occasionally  seen,  and  chiefly  in  time  of  war, 
in  a  family  dispute,  or  on  some  other  occasion  when  they  are  deeply 
moved.  In  the  time  of  their  heathenism  they  were  strict  in  their 
rpligious  observances,  and  religion  came  into  almost  every  action 
of  life.  They  were,  in  mo^  instances,  with  comparative  ease 
led  to  accept  Christianity,  and  this  characteristic  has  remained 
under  the  new  condition  of  things.  They  are  a  shrewd  people,  with 
quick  intelligence,  and  they  possess  naturally  a  large  amount  of 
common  sense.  Where  they  have  from  early  years  enjoyed  the 
advantages  of  a  good  education,  Sawaiori  youths  have  proved  them- 
selves to  possess  intellectual  powers  of  no  mean  order.  They  are 
almost  invariably  fluent  speakers;  with  many  of  them  oratory 
seems  to  be  a  natural  gift ;  it  is  also  carefully  cultivated.  A 
Sawaiori  orator  will  hold  the  interest  of  his  hearers  for  hours 
together  at  a  political  gathering,  and  in  his  speech  he  will  bring 
in  historical  allusions  and  precedents,  and  will  make  apt  quota- 
tions from  ancient  legends  in  a  manner  which  would  do  credit  to 
the  best  parliamentary  orators.  Many  of  them  are  very  brave, 
and  think  little  of  self-sacrifice  for  others  where  duty  or  family 
honour  is  concerned.* 

The  terms  for  family  among  this  race  are  used  in  two  senses — 
(1)  of  a  household,  and  (2)  of  all  blood  relations  on  both  the  male 
and  the  female  side,  including  the  wife  or  the  husband,  as  the  case 
may  be,  brought  in  by  marriage, — also  those  who  have  been  adopted 
by  members  of  the  clan.  In  the  following  remarks  the  word 
family  is  used  with  the  first  meaning,  and  clan  with  the  second. 
Each  clan  has  a  name  which  is  usually  borne  by  one  of  the  oldest 
members,  who  is  the  chief  or  head  for  the  time  being.  This  clan 
system  no  doubt  generally  prevailed  in  early  times,  and  was  the 
origin  of  the  principal  chieftainships.  But  changes  have  been 
made  in  most  of  the  islands.  In  some  the  head  of  one  clan  has 
become  king  over  several. '  In  many  cases  large  clans  have  been 
divided  into  sections  under  secondary  heads,  and  have  even  been 
subdivided.  The  different  classes  of  chieftainships  may  probably 
be  thus  accounted  for. 

As  a  rule,  near  relations  do  not  intermarry.  -  In  some  islands  this 
riile  is  rigidly  adhered  to.  There  have  been  exceptions,  however, 
especially  in  the  case  of  high  chiefs  ;  but  usually  great  care  is 
taken  to  prevent  the  union  of  those  within  the  prescribed  limits 
of  consanguinity.  Children  generally  dwell  with  their  kin  on  the 
father's  side,  but  they  have  equal  rights  on  the  mother's  side, 
and  sometimes  they  take  up  their  abode  with  their  mother's 
family.  The  only  names  used  to  express  particular  relation- 
ships are  father  and  mother,  son  and  daughter,  brother  and  sister. 

'  The  Human  Species  (International  Scientific  Series),  pp.  57-60. 
'  Of  various  acts  by  Sawaioris  which  indicate  the  possession  of  bravery  and 
self  possession  under  trying  circumstances  the  following  may  serve  as  a  sample. 
Some  lads  belonging  to  two  villages  in  Samoa  fell  out,  and  began  stone-throwing. 
One  of  them,  who  was  tlie  son  of  a  chief,  was  struck  and,  it  was  fear  ed,  was  liilled. 
As  soon  as  this  was  known  to  the  young  men  of  the  village  they  armed  them- 
selves in  order  to  go  to  the  other  village  to  seek  reparation,  according  to  a  custom 
of  former  times,  by  killing  some  one  belonging  to  the  family  of  the  boy  who  had 
thrown  the  stone.  A  report  preceded  them  that  they  were  going,  and  a  young 
man,  a  cousin  of  the  boy.  In  order  to  prevent  a  fight,  quietly  w«lked  out  of  the 
village  to  meet  the  avengers  of  blood.  When  he  met  them  he  calmly  said,  "  Tou 
are  coming  to  avenge  your  brother.  1  am  brother  to  the  boy  who  killed  him. 
Do  not  go  further  ;  kill  me  and  be  avenged,  so  that  our  villages  may  remsio 
at  peace."  His  conduct  somewhat  disconcerted  the  party,  and  by  the  timely 
arrival  of  a  Christian  teacher  matters  were  settled  without  bloodajied. 


There  is  Ufually  no  distinction  between  brotliers  (or  sisters)  and 
cousins,  all  the  chUdren  of  brothers  and  sisters  speak  of  each 
other  as  brothers  and  sisters,  and  they  call  uncles  and  aunts 
fathers  and  mothers.  Above  the  relationship  of  parents  all  are 
simply  ancestors,  no  term  being  used  for  grandfather  which  would 
not  equally  apply  to  any  more  remote  male  ancestor.  In  the  same 
way  there  is  no  distinctive  term  for  grandchild.  A  man  speaks  of 
his  grandchild  as  his  son  or  daughter,  or  simply  as  his  child.' 
Polygamy  was  often  practised,  especially  by  chiefs,  and  also  con- 
cubinage. In  some  places  a  widow  was  taken  by  the  brother 
of  her  deceased  husband,  or,  failing  the  brother,  by  some  other 
relative  of  the  deceased,  as  an  additional  wife.  Divorce  was  an 
easy  matter,  and  of  frequent  occurrence ;  but,  as  a  rule,  a  divorced 
wife  would  not  marry  again  without  the  consent  of  her  former 
husband.  An  adulterer  was  always  liable  to  be  killed  by  the 
aggrieved  husband,  or  by  some  member  of  his  clan.  If  the  culprit 
himself  could  not  be  reached,  any  member  of  the  clan  was  liable  to 
suffer  in  his  stead.  In  some  islands  female  virtue  was  highly  re- 
garded. Perhaps  of  all  the  gioups  Samoa  stood  highest  in  this 
respect.  There  w.ts  a  special  ordeal  through  which  a  bride  passed 
to  prove  her  virginity,  and  a  proof  of  her  immorality  brought  dis- 
grace upon  all  her  relatives.  But  in  other  islands  there  was  much 
freedom  in  the  relations  of  the  sexes.  Owing  to  the  almost 
promiscuous  intercourse  which  prevailed  among  a  portion  of  the 
race,  in  some  groups  titles  descended  through  the  mother  and  not 
through  the  father.  In  Hawaii  there  was  a  peculiar  system  of 
marriage  relationship,  "brothers  with  their  wives,  and  sisters  with 
their  husbands,  possessing  each  other  in  common."  Tliere  also, 
especially  in  the  case  of  chiefs  and  chieftainesses,  brothers  and 
sisters  sometimes  intermarried.  But  these  customs  did  not  pre- 
vail in  other  gioups.  It  is  almost  certain  that  they  did  not  prevail 
in  Hawaii  in  early  times,  but  that  they  were  the  result  of  that 
deterioration  in  the  race  which  their  traditions  and  many  of  theii 
customs  indicate.* 

Women  have  always  occupied  a  relatively  high  position  among 
the  Sawaioris.  In  most  groups  they  have  great  influence  and  are 
treated  with  much  respect.  lu  some  cases  they  take  hereditary 
titles  and  hold  high  offices.  As  among  their  congeners  in  Mada- 
gascar, so  also  in  parts  of  Polynesia,  there  may  be  a  queen  or 
a  chieftainess  in  her  own  right ;  and  a  woman  in  high  position 
will  command  as  much  respect,  and  will  exercise  as  great  authority, 
as  a  man  would  in  the  same  position.  Everywhere  infanticide 
prevailed  ;  in  some  of  the  smaller  islands  it  was  regulated  by 
law  '"a  order  to  prevent  over-population.  It  was  also  a  very  common 
practice  to  destroy  the  foetus,  yet,  even  before  the  reception  of 
Christianity,  parents  were  affectionate  towards  the- children  who 
were  spared.  The  practice  of  adopting  children  was,  and  still  is, 
commoiL  Often  there  is  an  exchange  made  between  members  of 
the  same  clan  ;  but  sometimes  there  is  adoption  from  withouX. 
Tattooing  generally  prevailed  among  the  men,  different  patterns 
being  followed  in  different  groups  of  islands.  In  some  a  larger 
portion  of  the  body  is  tattooed  than  in  other?.  A  youth  was  con- 
sidered to  be  in  his  minority  until  he  was  tattooed,  and  in  former 
times  he  would  have  no  chance  of  mairying  until  he  had,  by  sub- 
mitting to  this  process,  proved  himself  to  be  a  man.  Puberty  in 
the  other  sex  was  generally  marked  by  feasting,  or  some  other 
demonstration,  among  the  female  friends.  Old  age  is  generally 
honoured.  Often  an  inferior  chief  will  give  up  h;3  title  to  a 
younger  man,  yet  he  himself  will  lose  but  little  by  so  doing.  The 
neglect  of  aged  persons  is  extremely  rare. 

Property  belonging  to  a  clan'  is  held  in  common.  Each  clan 
usually  possesses  land,  and  over  this  noone  member  has  an  exclusive 
right,  but  all  have  an  equal  right  to  use  it.  The  chief  or  recog- 
nized head  of  the  clan  or  section  alone  can  properly  dispose  of  it  or 
assign  its  use  for  a  time  to  an  outsider ;  and  even  he  is  expected  to 
obtain  the  consent  of  thS  heads  of  families  before  he  alienates  the 
property.    Thus  land  is  handed  down  through  successive  generations 

S  Dr  Lewis  H.  Morgan  in  Ancient  Society,  pp.  419-423,  makes  the  SawaiollB  to 
have  distinctive  terms  for  grandfather,  grandmother,  grJndson,  and  grand- 
daughter. In  this  he  is  entirely  mistaken.  It  is  evident  from  his  own  Ust«  tlmt 
the  Hawaiian  kupuna  means  simply  an  ancestor.  In  like  manner  niooputta 
simply  means  a  descendent  of  any  geneiation  after  the  first. 

*  Morgan  has  founded  one  of  his  forms  of  family — the  consanguine— on  the 
supposed  e-xistence  in  former  times  among  the  Malays  and  Polynesians  of  the 
custom  of  "  Intermarriage  of  broi  hers  and  sistei  a,  own  and  collateral,  in  a  group." 
All  the  evidence  he  finds  in  suppott  of  this  is  (1)  the  existence  of  the  custom 
above  mentioned  in  Hawaii,  and  (2)  the  absence  of  special  terms  for  the  lelatiin, 
sliip  of  uncle,  aunt,  an-i  cousin,  this  imlicating,  he  thinks,  that  tht-se  wera 
wigarded  as  fathers,  mothers,  brothers,  and  sisters.  He  admits  that  '•  the  usages 
with  respect  to  marriage  which  prevailed  when  the  system  was. formed  may  not 
prevail  at  the  present  time."  But  he  adds,  "To  sustain  the  deduction  it  is 
not  necessary  that  they  should"  (Ancient  Societi/,  p.  408).  Morgan  has  given 
special  terms  for  gtandfather  and  grandmother,  because  it  would  prove  too  much 
to  show  that  the  people  had  no  grandfathers,  ic.  But  tU&se  terms  are  used  for 
ancestors  of  any  geneiation.  The  terms  used  for  grandchildren,  in  like  manner, 
are  used  for  any  geneiation  of  descendants.  He  8>iy8  (p.  406)  the  terms  o( 
husband  and  wife  are  used  in  common  by  a  group  of  sisters  or  brotheis,  but  tl  e 
fact  is  that  the  words  lised  for  husband  and  wife  in  Hawaii  simply  mean  mule 
and  female.  In  some  islands  there  are  ternis  used  for  wife  in  the  most  stiict 
sense.  The  word  wife  is  not  used  more  e:iclusively  among  us  than  among  soma 
Sawaiori  people. 


POLYHESIA 


c: 


POLYNESIA 


425 


under  Oio  noininal  control  of  tlio  recognized  head  of  the  clan  or 
section  for  t)ie  time  being.  Changes  have  been  made  in  many 
islands  in  this  respect ;  but  there  can  be  little  reason  to  doubt  that 
the  joint  ownership  of  property  in  clans  was  common  among  the 
riitiru  race  in  former  times. 

In  early  times  the  head  of  each  clan  was  supreme  aniong  his 
.iwn  peopli:,  but  in  all  matters  he  had  associated  with  him  the 
principal  men  or  heads  of  families  in  the  clan.  Their  united 
.luthority  extended  over  all  the  members  and  the  possessions  of  the 
elan,  and  they  were  independent  of  every  other  clan.  There  are  in 
some  places  vestiges  of  this  primitive  state  of  society  still- remain- 
ing; the  transition  to  a  limited  or  to  a  despotic  monarchy  may  be 
traced  by  means  of  th«  enciont  legends  in  some  islands,  and  in 
others  it  is  a  matter  of  recent  history.  One  clan  being  more 
numerous  and  stronger  than  another,  and  its  chief  being  ambitious, 
it  is  easy  to  see  how  by  conquering  a  neighbouring  clan  he  increased 
the  importance  of  his  clan  and  extended  his  own  power.  In  some 
of  the  islands  this  transition  i)roccss  has  hardly  yet  developed  into 
an  absolute  monarchy.  Wo  may  even  see  two  or  three  stages  of  the 
progress.  In  one  instance  a  certain  clan  lias  the  right  to  nominate 
the  principal  chief  over  an  entire  district ;  though  it  is  known  as 
the  ruling  cl.in,  its  rule  is  mainly  confined  to  this  noniin;ition,  and 
to  decision  for  or  against  war.  In  all  other  respects  the  district  en- 
joys the  privilege  of  self-government.  In  another  case  the  nominal 
king  over  a  district,  or  over  an  entire  island,  can  be  elected  only 
from  among  the  members  of  a  certain  clan,  the  monarchy  being 
elective  within  that  alone  ;  but  this  king  has  little  authority.  In 
other  cases  a  more  despotic  monarchy  has  grown  up — the  prowess 
»f  one  man  leading  to  the  subjugation  of  other  clans.  Even  in  this 
CISC  the  chiefs  or  he.ids  of  clans  sometimes  still  hold  their  property 
and  rule  over  their  own  people,  only  rendering  a  kind  of  feudal 
service  and  paying  tribute  to  tlie  king. 

The  Sawaioris  arc  exceedingly  fond  of  rank  and  of  titles.  Much 
deference  is  paid  to  chiefs  and  to  persons  of  rank  ;  and  special 
terms  are  genci'ally  employed  in  addressing  these.  Every  part  of  a 
chiefs  body  and  all  his  belongings  have  names  different  from  those 
employed  for  common  jieople.  The  grade  of  rank  which  a  person 
occupies  will  often  be  indicated  by  the  language  in  which  ho  is 
addressed.  Thus,  in  Samoa  there  are  four  different  terms  for  to 
come : — salt  is  for  a  common  man  ;  malm  mai  is  a  respectful  term 
for  a  person  without  a  title  ;  siisu  mai  for  a  titled  chief  ;  and  afio 
mai  for  a  member  of  tho  royal  family.  In  addressing  chiefs,  or 
i>thci-s  to  whom  one  wishes  to  be  respectful,  tho  singular  number 
of  the  personal  pronoun  is  rarely  used ;  tlie  dual  is  employed 
instead, — the  dual  of  dignity  or  of  respect. 

Oflices  and  titles  are  seldom  hereditary  in  our  sense  of  the  term, 
ns  descending  from  father  to  son.  They  are  lather  elective  within 
the  limits  of  tho  clan,  or  the  division  of  a  clan.  A  common 
practice  is  for  the  holder  of  a  high  title  to  nominate  a  successor ; 
and  his  nomination  is  generally  confirmed  by  tho  chiefs,  or  heads 
of  households,  with  whom  the  right  of  election  rests.  In  ancient; 
times  the  authority  of  a  high  chief  or  king  did  not  usually  extend 
to  any  details  of  government.  But  in  Hawaii  there  are  traditions 
of  a  wise  king  who  interested  liimself  in  promoting  the  social  well- 
being  of  the  peotilc,  and  made  good  laws  for  their  guidance.' 
Usually  nil  matters  atfecting  a  district  or  an  island  were  settled  by 
tho  chiefs  of  tho  district,  while  those  of  a  single  village  were 
settled  by  a  council  consisting  of  the  chiefs  and  heads  of  house- 
holds in  the  village.  In  some  islands  each  clan,  or  each  village, 
would  feel  itself  at  liberty  to  make  war  on  another  clan  or  village, 
without  consulting  the  views  of  any  higher  authority.  Indeed  the 
rule  was  for  each  elan  or  district  to  settle  its  own  alfairs.  In  the 
case  of  olfences  against  individuals,  either  the  person  injured,  or 
another  member  of  his  flan,  would  avenge  the  injury  done.  For 
most  offrnces  there  was  some  generally  recognized  punishment — 
such  as  ceath  for  murder  or  adultery  ;  but  often  vengeance  would 
fall  upon  another  person  instead  of  the  wrongdoer.  In  avenging 
wrong,  a  member  of  the  village  or  of  the  clan  to  which  the  offcndir 
belonged  would  servo  equally  w^ell  to  satisfy  their  ideas  of  justice  if 
the  culprit  himself  could  not  bo  easily  reached.  Sometimes  all  the 
members  of  the  family,  or  of  a  village,  to  which  a  culprit  belonged 
would  (lee  from  their  homes  and  take  refugo  in  another  village,  or 
seek  the  protection  of  a  powerful  chief.  In  some  places,  in  cases 
of  crime,  the  members  of  tho  family  or  village  would  convey  tho 
culprit  bound — sometimes  oven  carrying  him  like  a  pig  that  is  to  bo 
killed— and  place  him  with  apologies  before  those  against  whom  ho 
had  transgressed.  Tho  ignominy  of  such  a  procecdinij  was  generally 
considered  sulficicnt  atonement  for  tho  gravest  offences.  There 
were  slaves  in  many  islands,  either  persons  conquered  in  war,  or 
those  who  had  been  condemned  to  lose  their  personal  liberty  on 
account  of  evil  conduct. 

i'ottery  was  not  manufactured  by  tho  Sawaioris.  Wlien  any  of 
tlicm  possessed  it  they  obtained  it  from  the  I'apuan.i.  In  most  of 
their  manufactures  they  were,  however,  in  advance  of  the  Papuans. 
They  i.iade  use  of  tho  vegetable  fibres  abounding  in  the  islands,  tho 

<  Sen  a  rcmarkobli!  example  In  Foniondcr'j  Polynuian  Kaee,  vol.  II.  p.  89. 


women  manufacturing  cloth,  chiefly  from  the  bark'of  the  paper 
mulberry  (Monis  papyri/era),  but  also  in  some  islands  from  the 
bark  of  the  bread-fruit  tree,  and  the  hibiscus.  This  in  former 
times  furnished  them  with  most  of  their  clothing.  They  also 
made  various  kinds  of  mats,  baskets,  and  fans  from  the  leaves  of 
the  pandanus,  the  bark  of  the  hibiscus,  from  species  of  bohmeria 
or  other  Urticaceous  plants.  Some  of  their  mats  are  very  beauti- 
fully made,  and  in  some  islands  they  are  the  most  valuable  property 
the  people  possess.  The  people  also  use  the  various  fibre-producing 
plants  for  the  manufacture  of  ropes,  coarse  string,  and  fine  cord, 
and  for  making  fishing  nets.  The  nets  arc  often  very  large,  and 
are  netted  with  a  needle  and  mesh  as  in  hand-netting  among  our- 
selves. The  Sawaioris  are  rather  clever  workers  in  wood.  Canoe 
and  house-building  are  trades  usually  confined  to  certain  families. 
Tlio  large  canoes  in  which  they  formerly  made  long  voyages  are  no 
longer  built,  but  various  kinds  of  smaller  canoes  are  made,  from 
the  commonest,  which  is  simply  a  hollowed-out  tree  cut  into  form, 
to  the  finely-shaped  one  built  upon  a  keel,  the  joints  of  the  various 
pieces  being  nicely  fitted,  and  the  whole  stitched  together  with 
cord  made  from  the  husk  of  cocoa-nuts.  Some  of  the  larger  canoes 
are  ornamented  with  rude  carving  ;  and  in  some  islands  they  are 
somewhat  elaborately  decorated  with  inlaid  mother  of  pearl.  The 
houses  are  generally  well  and  elaborately  made,  but  nearly  all  the 
ornamentation  is  put  on  the  inside  of  tho  roof.  The  Sawaioris 
manufacture  several  wooden  utensils  for  household  use,  such  as 
dishes  or  deep  bowls,  "pillows"  or  head-rests,  and  stools.  They 
also  make  wooden  gongs,  or  drums,  which  they  teat  as  they  travel 
in  their  boats,  in  their  dances,  &c.  They  used  to  make  wooden 
fishhooks,  clubs,  spears,  and  bows.  They  still  make  wooden  fish- 
spears  ;  also  carved  and  inlaid  combs.  They  employ  the  bamboo 
for  making  drums  and  flutes.  Formerly  the  knives  the  people 
used  were  made  of  bamboo,  which  is  still  sometimes  used  for  that 
purpose.  In  the  manufacture  of  these  things  they  employed  adzes 
made  of  stone,  shell;  or  hard  wood,  and  a  wooden  drill  pointed 
with  stone,  shell,  or  bone.  They  made  mother-of-pearl  fishhooks, 
and  they  still  use  a  part  of  those  old  hooks — or  artificial  bait — ill 
conibiiiation  with  steel  hooks,  tho  native-made  portion  being 
generally  shaped  like  n  small  fish.  For  water  vessels,  &c. ,  they 
employ  gourds  and  large  cocoa-nut  shells,  in  preparing  which 
they  put  water  into  them  and  allow  the  pulp  or  the  kernel  to 
decay,  so  that  it  may  be  removed  without  breaking  the  rind  or 
shell.  Their  drinking  cups  are  made  of  half  a  cocoa-nut  shell. 
Sharks'  teeth,  shells,  and  bamboo  were  formerly  generally  used  as 
cutting  instruments  ;  shaving  was  done  with  them,  as  well  as 
surgical  operations.  They  employ  vegetable  dyes  for  painting  their 
bark  cloth,  calabashes,  &c.  In  some  islands  they  also  use  a  red 
earth  for  this  purpose.  Their  cloth  is  generally  ornamented  with 
geometrical  patterns.  Any  drawings  of  animals,  &c.,  which  they 
make  are  exceedingly  inartistic,  and  no  attempt  is  made  at  per- 
spective. Their  musical  instruments  are  few  and  rude — consisting 
of  the  drums  and  flutes  already  mentioned,  and  shell  trumpets. 

The  Sawaioris  were  all  polytheists.  Without  doubt  many  of 
their  gods  are  deified  men  ;  but  it  is  clear  that  some  are  the 
forces  of  nature  personified,  while  others  appear  to  represent 
human  passions  which  have  become  identified  with  particular 
persons  who  have  an  existence  in  their  historical  myths. °  But  the 
conception  which  they  had  of  Tangaloa  (Taaroa  and  Kanaloa  in 
some  islands)  is  of  a  higher  order.  Among  the  Tahitians  he  was 
regarded  as  "the  first  and  principal  god,  uncreated,  and  existing 
from  the  beginning,  or  from  the  time  he  emerged  from  ;»,  or  the 
world  of  darkness."''  "He  was  said  to  bo  the  father  of  all  the  gods, 
and  creator  of  all  things,  yet  was  scarcely  reckoned  an  object  of 
worship."*  Dr  Turner  says,  "  the  unrestricted,  or  unconditioned, 
may  fairly  bo  regarded  as  tho  name  of  thjs  Samoiin  Jupiter."' 

The  worshii)  of  certain  of  the  gieat  gods  was  common  to  all  the 
peo])lo  in  a  group  of  islands.  Others  were  gods  of  villages  or  of 
families,  while  others  were  gods  of  individuals.  Tho  gods  of  clans 
were  probably  the  spirits  of  the  ancestors  in  their  own  line.  In 
some  islands,  when  the  birth  of  a  child  was  expected,  the  aid  of  tho 
gods  of  tho  family  was  invoked,  beginning  with  tho  god  of  the 
father.  The  god  prayed  to  at  the  instant  of  birth  became  the  god 
of  the  child.  In  other  places  the  name  of  tho  child's  god  was 
declared  when  the  umbilical  cord  was  severed.  The  gods  were 
supposed  to  dwell  in  various  animals,  in  trees,  or  even  in  inanimate 
objects,  as  a  stone,  a  shell,  &c.  In  some  islands  idols  bearing  inoro 
or  less  resemblance  to  the  human  shape  wcro  made.  Hut  in  all 
cases  the  material  objects  were  regarded  Bimply  n»  the  abodes  of  the 
immaterial  spirits  of  the  gods. 

Their  temples  were  either  national,  for  o  single  village,  or  for 
tho  god  of  a  family.  They  were  sometimes  large  stone  enclosures 
(marae),  sometimes  a  grovo,  or  «  house.  The  principal  priests  were 
a  particular  order,  the  priesthood  being  hei^ditary.     In  some  cases, 

'  The  followinf*  rccrnt  boukH  may  be*  coniiullcd  on  thli  aulijcct : — Rev.  W.  \V. 
Gill's  il)>thi  ami  .*^ott>ii  from  the  S*'Uifi  I'tidfic;  lit  Turner's  ^rMa\  and  iir 
Sliorttnnd's  Maori  lieliffiott  ami  Uytht^'ogy, 

'  I'ol^nian  tU-ffarcfiet.  vol.  t.  p.  922. 

*  Tahttian  Dictionary.  »  Samoa,  y.  .^?, 


426 


POLYNESIA 


however,  the  fatlier  of  ,-i  family  was  priest  in  his  own  household  and 
jircsenteJ  offerings  and  jirayers  to  the  family  god. 

There  was,  in  tlie  Soci(;ty  Islands,  a  privileged  class  known  as  the 
Areoi.  They  were  the  special  devotees  of  two  celibate  gods;  TWcy 
were  not  permitted  to  have  children  ;  any  children  they  possessci 
when  they  entered  the  society,  and  all  children  subsequently  born 
to  them,  were  destroyed.  The  name  Arcoi  became  the  synonym 
for  all  kinds  of  licence  ;  the  party  wandered  abouffrom  place  to 
pliicc  conducting  obscene  entertainments,  and  was  feasted  with  the 
best  of  all  the  peojile  possessed.  There  were  seven  regular  grades 
among  the  Arcoi  society,- besides  an  irregular  class  of  attendants. 

In  some  islands  human  sacrifices  were  of  frequent  occurrence  ;  in 
others  they  wore  olfered  only  on  very  rare  and  excejitional  occasions, 
when  the  demand  was  made  by  the  priests  for  something  specially 
valuable.  Tlio  usual  offerings  to  the  gods  were  food.  The  system 
of  iapn  or  Uilit  so  common  among  the  Sawaioris  was  connected  with 
their  religions  rites.  There  were  two  ways  by  which  things  might 
become  tdpn, — (1)  by  contact  with  anything  belonging  to  the  god, 
as  Ilia  vi.sible  representation  or  his  priest.  Probably  it  was  thought 
that  a  portion  of  the  sacrcil  essence  of  the  god,  or  of  a  sacred  per- 
son, was  ilircctly  coniniunicablc  to  objects  which  they  touched.  (2) 
Things  were  niade  Idjm  by  being  dedicated  to  the  god  ;  and  it  is 
this  forn\  of  t'/>i«  which  is  still  kept  up.  If,  e.g.,  anyone  wishes  to 
preserve  his  cocoa-nuts  from  being  taken,  he  will  put  something 
upoi)  the  trees  to  indicate  that  they  are  sacred  or  dedicated.  They 
cannot  tlien  be  used  until  the  Iapn  is  removed  from  them.  Disease 
and  death  were  often  connected  with  the  violation  of  iapn,  the 
ofiendecl  gods  thus  punishing  the  ollendeia.  Disease  was  generally 
attributed  to  the  anger  of  thcgoils.  Hence  offerings,  kc,  were  niailo 
to  ajipease  their  anger.  The  tirst-fnuts  of  a  crop  were  usually  dedi- 
cated to  the  gods  to  prevent  them  from  being  .angry  ;  and  new 
canoes,  fishiug-nets,  kc,  weie  dedicated  by  prayers  and  offerings,  in 
order  that  the  gods  might  be  jiropitious  to  their  owners  in  their  use. 

Tlie  Sawaiori  people  invariably  believe  in  the  existence  of  the 
spirit  of  man  after  the  death  of  the  body.  Tlieir  traditions  on  the 
condition  of  the  dc.nd  vary  considerably  in  different  groups;  yet 
there  is  a  general  agreement  upon  main  points.  Death  is  caused  by 
the  ile]i;irture  of  the  spirit  fjoui  the  body.  The  region  of  the  dead 
is  subterranean.  When  the  spirit  leaves  the  body  it  is  conveyed  by 
waiting  spirits  to  the  abode  of  spirits.  In  most  islands  the  place  of 
descent  is  known.  It  is  generally  towards  the  west.  In  some  tra- 
ditions there  is  a  distinction  between  chiefs  and  common  people  in 
the. spirit  world.  In  others  all  are  much  alike  in  condition.  Some 
traditions  indicate  a  marked  distinction  between  the  spirits  of 
warriors  and  those  of  others  :  the  former  go  to  a  place  where  they 
are  hajipy  and  are  immortal*  while  the  latter  are  devoured  by  the 
gods  ami  are  annihilated.  In  some,  however,  fhe  spirits  are  said  to 
live  again  after  being  eaten.  Some  speak  of  the  abode  of  spirits  as 
being  in  darkness  ;  but  usually  the  condition  of  things  is  similar  to 
that  which  exists  upon  earth.  Amongst  all  the  people  it  is  helieved 
that  the  spirits  of  the.  dead  are  able  to  revisit  the  scenes  of  their 
earthly  life.  The  visits  are  generally  made  in  the  night,  and  are 
often  gre.atly  dreaded,  especially  when  there  may  be  any  supposed 
re.ason  for  s[jite  on  the  part  of  the  dead  townrds  living  relatives. 
Some  writers  have  connected  cannibalism,  where  it  existed  among 
the  Sawaioris,  with  religious  customs.  In  the  Cook  and  Society 
Islands,  when  a  human  being  was  offered  as  a  sacrifice,  the  priest 
presented  an  eye  of  the  victim  to  the  king,  w-ho  either  ate  it  or  pre- 
tended to  do  so.  Probably  the  earliest  human  sacrifices  were  the 
bodies  of  enemies  slain  in  battle.  As  it  was  supposed  by  some'that 
the  spirits  of  the  dead  were  eaten  by  the  gods,  the  bodies  of  those 
slain  in  battle  may  have  been  eaten  by  their  victors  in  trinmph. 
Mr  Shortlnnd  appears  to  think  that  cannihalisni  among  the  Maories 
of  New  Zealand  may  have  thus  originated.'  Among  the  Sawaioris 
generally  it  appears  to  have  been  the  practice  at  times  to  eat  a  por^ 
tion  of  a  slain  enemy  to  make  his  degradation  the  greater.  In 
several  groups  there  is  evidence  that  this  was  done.  But  where 
cannibalism  was  practised  as  a  means  of  subsistence,  it  probably 
originated  in  times  of  actual  want,  such  as  may  have  occurred 
during  the  long  voyages  of  the  people,  when  it  was  resorted  to  as  a 
means  of  self-preservation.  Being  once  accustomed  to  the  practice, 
we  can  easily  imagine  how  they  might  resort  to  it  ag.ain  and  again 
in  times  of  scarcity.  The  testimony  of  cannibals  is  that  human 
flesh  is  the  best  of  food,  and  among  such  a  people  there  would  not 
be  strong  moral  reasons  to  restrain  them  from  the  indulgence. 

The  amusements  of  these  people  are  very  numerous.  They  are 
a  light-hearted  race,  usually  living  under  easy  conditions  of  life, 
and  they  have  a  large  amoBnt  of  enjoyment.  Some  of  their  amuse- 
ments are  boisterous  and  even  sava.ge,  such  as  wrestling  and 
boxing.  In  some  islands  they  have  a  kind  of  "hockey"  and  foot- 
b.all.  They  have  running  races,  walking  matches,  and  canoe- 
racing.  One  of  their  most  exciting  amusements  is  swimming  in 
the  surf.  When  there  is  a  moderate  sea  on,  great  numbers  often 
join  in  this  exercise  and  find  immense  pleasure  in  it.  Throw- 
ing the  javelin,  throwing  at  a  mark  with  slings,  and  archery  are 

X  llaori  Itetigion  and  Mythology,  p.  26.  I 


also  practised.  Some  resort  to  cock-fighting.  There  are  fishing 
matches  ;  and  at  a  particular  season  large  companies  used  to  result 
to  jiigeon-catching.  In  their  houses  they  have  a  number  of  games. 
Betting  is  Very  olten  carried  on  in  connexion  with  these.  JIuch 
time  is  spent,  especially  after  the  evening  meal,  in  asking  riddles, 
in-  rhyming,  &e.  The  recital  of  songs  and  myths  is  also  a  source 
of  great  amusement;  and  on  speoial  occasions  there  is  dancing. 
The  night  dances  were  generally  accompanied  by  much  indecency 
and  immorality,  and  for  that  reason  \vere  discountenanced  on  the 
introduction  of  Christianity. 

III.  The  Tarapon  Race. — These  people  have  mnny  points  o( 
resemblance  to  the  Sawaioris,  but,  as  a  rule,  they  are  of  smaller 
stature  and  are  less  robust.  They  have  straight  black  hair,  wliicli 
is  more  lank  than  that  of  the  Sawaioris.  The  Taiapons,  how- 
ever, differ  considerably  from  one  anolher,  and  are  evidently  a 
mixed  race.  The  natives  of  the  Caroline  Islands  are  larger  than  the 
Gilbeit  islanders.  They  are  also  much  lighter  in  colour  ;  they  are 
more  yellow,  whereas  the  Gilbert  Islandejs  are  darker,  than  the 
Sawaioiis.  In  many  respects  the  Tarapons  bear  a  much  closer 
resend)lance  to  the  people  cf  some  portions  of  the  Indian  Arclii- 
pi'lago  than  do  the  Sawaioris.  It  is  the  belief  of  the  present  writer 
that  the  bulk  of  the  Tarapons  are  the  descendants  of  people  who, 
in   comparatively  recent  times,  migrated  from  the  Indian  Archi- 

Eelago,  and  that  since  they  have  been  in  Polynesia  they  have 
ecome  mixod  with  people  of  other  races.  There  appears  to  be  a 
little  Papuan  admixture.  Those  in  the  Caroline  Islands,  especially, 
appear  to  have  become  mixed  with  Chinese  and  Japanese  blood- 
probably  more  Japanese  than  Chinese.  There  are  several  well- 
authenticated  instances  of  Japanese  junks,  with  living  people  in 
them,  having  been  found  in  various  parts  of  the  North  Pacific.  In 
]814  the  British  brig  "Forester"  met  with  one  off  the  coast  of 
California  (about  30°  N.  lat. ),  with  three  living  men  and  fourteen 
dead  bodies  on  board.  In  December  1832  a  Japanese  junk  arrived 
at  the  Hawaiian  Islands  with  four  of  the  crew  living.  If  these, 
junks  could  cross  the  Pacific  in  the  latitude  of  Hawaii  it  is  not  at 
all  unlikely  that  others  running  in  a  south-easterly  direction  wouhl 
reach  some  of  the  many  atolls  which  stretch  over  about  S.I"  of 
longitude,  forming  the  Caroline  and  llarshall  archijielagoes. 

The  traditions  of  the  Gilbert  Islanders  tell  us  that  thiir  islands 
were  peopled  from  the  west  and  also  from  the  east.  Those  who 
came  from  the  east  are  expressly  said  to  be  from  Samoa.  Thoso 
from  the  west  were  more  numerous  than  those  from  the  east. 
There  are  also  traditions  of  the  arrival  of  other  strangers  at  some 
of  these  islands.  When  the  present  writer  was  at  the  island  of 
Peru,  in  the  Gilbert  group,  in  1869  there  was  still  there  the 
remnants  of  a  large  proah  which,  from  the  description  given, 
appears  to  have  been  like  those  used  in  the  Indian  Archipelago. 
So  far  as  we  have  materials  for  examination,  craniometry  confirms 
other  evidence,  and  indicates  that  the  Tarapon  people  are  more 
mi.xed  than  either  of  the  other  Polynesian  races. 

All  the 'Tarapon  people  are  navigators,  but,  owing  to  the  fact  that 
upon  their  atolls  they  have  little  good  timbtr,  most  of  their  canoes 
are  inferiorto  those  of  the  Sawaioris.  Their  houses  are  also  inferior. 
Their  arms  are  fairly  well  made.  In  the  Gilbert  Islands  tliey  manu- 
facture elabor'ate  armour,  to  cover  the  ciitire  body,  from  the  fibre  of 
the  cocoa-nut  husk.  In  the  Caroline  Islands  very  fine  mats  are 
made ;  and  a  hand-loom  is  used,  with  which  a  coarse  cloth  is  made. 
Among  the  Tarapons  women  occupy  a  lower  position  than  among 
the  Sawaioris.  The  difference  is  not,  however,  in  the  amount  of 
work,  or  kind  of  drudgery,  that  is  expected  from  them,  but  rather 
in  the  social  and  domestic  influence  they  exert.  The  gods  are 
chiefly  the  spirits  of  the  great  men  of  past  ages.  The  chieftainship 
and  priesthood  are  often  combined  in  the  same  persons.  They  arc 
strict  in  the  observance  of  their  religious  rites.  The  shrines  of  their 
gods  are  very  numerous.  In  every  house  he  visited  in  the  Gilbert 
Islands,  the  present  writer  saw  either  a  small  circle  or  a  square 
formed  with  pieces  of  coral  or  shells  ;  this  was  neatly  covered  with 
broken  coral  and  shells  from  the  beach,  and  in  the  centre  stood  a 
block  of  coral  representing  the  god.  These  were  the  household 
shrines.  In  various  places  about  the  islands  there  were  similar 
squares  or  circles,  only  larger,  for  the  gods  of  villages  or  districts. 
Olfcrings  of  food  were  presented  .to  them,  and  often  the  stones  n  ere 
garlanded  with  wreatns  of  cocoa-nut  leaves.  .Some  embalm  their 
dead — especially  the  bodies  of  beloved  children.  .Women  often 
carry  the  skulls  of  deceased  children,  hung  by  a  cord  around  the 
neck,  as  a  token  of  affectioa. 

In  the  Tarapon  languages  consonants  are  more  freely  nsed 
than  in  the  Sawaiori.  They  have  consonantal  sounds  wliich  are 
not  found  in  the  latter,  such  as  ch,  dj,  and  sh.  Closed  syllables 
often  occur  ;  occasionally  doubled  consonants  are  used,  but  &Mong 
some  of  the  people  there  is  a  tendency  to  introduce  a  alight  vowel 
sound  between  them.  Most  words  take  the  accent  on  the  penult. 
In  some  languages  there  appears  to  be  no  true  article  ;  but  in  tlio 
Gilbert  Island  language  the  Sawaiori  te  is  used  for  both  the  definite 
and  the  indefinite  article.  Gender  is  sexual  only.  » Number  in  the 
noun  is  either  gathered  from  the  requirement  of  the  sense,  or  is 
marked  by  pronominal  words,  or  numerals.     Case  is  known  by  tho 


POLYNESIA 


427 


poaittoQ  of  the  noun  in  the  sentence,  or  by  prepositions.  In  the  ! 
.angaace  of  Ebon,  one  of  the  islands  in  the  Mnrshall  archipelago, 
nouns  liaTO  the  peculiarity  which  is  chai-acteristic  of  the  Papuan 
languages:  those  which  indicate  close  relationship — as  of  a  son 
to  a  father,  or  of  tho  members  of  a  person's  body — take  a  pro- 
nominal suihx  which  gives  them  the  appearance  of  inflexions. 
The  present  writer  is  not  aware  of  the  existence  of  this  in  any  other 
Tarapon  language,  but  would  not  make  too  much  of  this  negative 
evidence.  Many  words  are  used  indisciiminatclj  as  nuvms,  adjec- 
tives, or  verbs  without  any  cl'.angc  of  form.  In  sumo  languages 
the  pe;rsonal  pronouns  are  singular,  dual,  and  plural. .  In  others 
there  are  no  special  dual  forms,  but  the  numeral  for  two  is  used  to 
indicate  the  unal.  In  the  Ebon  language  there  are  inclusive  and 
exclusive  forms  of  the  personal  pronouns  which,  so  far  as  has  been 
ascertained,  do  not  occur  in  any  of  the  other  Tarapon  languages. 
The  verbs  usually  have  no  inflexions  to  express  relations  of  voice, 
mood,  tense,  number  of  person, — such  distinctions  being  indicated 
by  particles.  In  the  Ehon  language,  however,  tho  tenses  are  some- 
times marked  ;  but  in  that  the  simple  form  of  tho  verb  is  frequently 
given.  All  have  verbal  directive  particles.  In  Ponape,  ono  of 
the  Caroline  Islands,  many  words  of  ceremony  are  used  in  address- 
ing chiefs  as  they  are  use»l  in  Samoa.  The  custom  of  tabooing 
ivords  is  also  found  there  as  it  is  in  the  Sawaiori  .languages.  For 
further  particulars  respecting  the  Tarapons,  see  Micronesia. 

Missions. — The  first  mission  was  commenced  in  Tahiti  by  the 
•gents  of  tlie  London  Missionary  Society  in  1797.  Since  then 
that  society  has  continued  and  extended  its  labours  until  it  now 
oceujiies  the  Society,  Cook,  Austral,  Tuamotu,  Sanioan,  Tokclauan, 
and  Ellice  groups,  and  several  isolated  islauds,  aU  peopled  by  the 
Sawaiori  race,  besides  other  islands  in  tho  Papuan  and  Tarapon 
areas.  With  tho  e.tception  of  a  portion  of  the  ■Tuamotu  archi- 
pelago, all  tho  people  in  the  groups  mentioned  are  now  nominal 
<Jhristians,  There  are  only  three  groups  peopled  by  the  Sawaioris 
where  the  London  Missionary  Society's  agents  do  not  labour  ;  and 
two  of  these  are  eliiciently  occupied  by  other  societies — Hawaii 
mainly  by  the  American  Board,  and-  Tonga  by  th6  Wesleyan  Mis- 
sionary Society.  These  two  groups  are  also  entirely  Christian. 
The  JIarquesas  Islands  have  not  been  Christianized,  but  are 
|iartly  occupied  by  missionaries  from  Hawaii.  There  are,  there- 
lore,  only  two  groups  peopled  by  the  Sawaioris  where  any  heathen 
are  found  at  the  present  day.  An  estimate  of  tho  number  of  this 
people,  based  upon  actual  counting  in  many  islands,  would  be 
about  179,000,  of  which  number  about  101,500  are  nominal 
Christians,  leaving  about  17,500  still  heathen.  Of  the  P.lpuans  a 
smaller  proportion  are  Christians.  In  Fiji  and  Rotuma  the  great 
majority  of  the  jiopulation  have  become  nominal  Christians  through 
the  labours  of  Wesleyan  missionaries!  The  Wesleyans  have  also 
successfully  laboured  in  Duke  of  York  Island,  near  New  Britain. 
In  tho  Loyalty  Islands  most  of  tho  people  have  embraced 
Christianity  through  the  labours  of  the  London  Jlissionary  Society's 
agents, — a  part,  however,  being  Roman  Catholics.  •«  Aneityum  in 
the  New  Hebrides  lias  become  wholly  Christian  through  the 
agency  of  Presbyterian  missions.  In  a  few  other  islands  in  the 
New  Hebrides,  also  in  Banks  and  Santa  Cruz  groups,  small  com- 
panies of  converts  have  been  gathered  by  the  Presbyterian  and  the 
Episcopal  (Mclanesian)  missions.  The  rest  of  tho  people  in  the 
Papuan  area  in  Polynesia  are  still  savages,  and  most  of  them  are 
cannibals.  The  population  of  this  area  may  be  estimated  at  about 
600,000.  •  Of  this  number  about  130,000  are  nominal  Christians. 
Excluding  tho  inhabitants  of  the  Ladrono  and  Pelew  Islands,  tho 
Tarapon  i)eoplc  may  bo  estimated  at  about  8-1,000.  The  agents  of 
the  Hawaiian  Board  of  Mi.ssions  (taking  tho  place  of  the  American 
Board,  under  whoso  auspices  the  missionaries  first  laboured  in  this 
legion)  are  tho  most  nurrferous  hero,  occupying  portions  of  the 
Gilbert,  Marshall,  and  Caroline  Islands.  Six  atolls  south  of  tho 
equator  in  the  Gilbert  proup  are  occupied  by  nativo  mi-s.sionaries 
fiom  Samoa  in  connexion  with  the  London  Missionary  Society. 
The  number  of  nominal  (Christians  in  these  groups  is  about  38,000. 
The  aggregate  population  of  Polynesia  may  thus  bo  estimated  at 
863,000,  of  whom  539,500  aro  heathen  and  323,500  aro  nominal  or 
baptized  Christians.  From  the  records  of  tho  various  missionary 
societies  it  appears  that  out  of  this  number  09,005,  or  very  ue.irly 
one-fifth,  aro  communicants.  ( 

In  arldition  to  tho  missionary  societies  already  mentioned,  which 
have  done  the  main  work  in  tho  evangelization  of  tho  Polynesians, 
there  aro  French  Protestant  missionaries  in  Tahiti,  and  Protestant 
Episcojial  clergymen  in  Hawaii  and  in  Fiji.  Tliero  aro  ul.so  in 
many  islands  French  Roman  Catholic  mi.>;sionaries;  but  these  have 
n  comparatively  small  number  of  adherents. 

Wliercver  tljo  missions  have  been  planted  schools  have  also  boon 
e.stablished,  and  tho  people  have  received  more  or  less  education. 
On  the  Christian  islands  nearly  all  the  pcoplo  can  now  read,  most 
can  write,  and  a  large  proportion  are  accinainted  with  tho  elements 
of  arithmetic.  General  cclucation,  thus  tar,  is  mnrh  more  common 
on  those  islands  tluin  it  is  at  prcsiiit  in  tho  British  Isles.  Ailvanccd 
schools  have  been  founded  in  connexion  with  some  of  the  nii.'isiniis, 
und  inan,Y^p{.3)ie  ^lativo  youths  havo  showu  cousidcrablo  njititudc 


for  some  of  the  higher  branches  of  knowledge.  In  most  of  the 
larger  gioups  colleges  for  the  education  of  native  ministers  have 
long  been  conducted.  In  these  colleges,  in  addition  to  Biblical 
exegesis  and  theology,  other  subjects,  such  as  history  and  elemen- 
tary science,  are  taught.  Many  of  tho  European  and  American 
missionaries  have  devoted  themselves  largely  to  literary  work  in 
tho  vernacular  of  tho  islands  where  they  reside.  Next  to  the 
translation  of  the  Scriptures  and  the  preparation  of  lesson  books 
(ot  the  common  schools,  they  havo  either  translated  works  on 
history,  science,  &c. ,  or  they  have  written  such  books  as  thi'y 
found  the  natives  to  need.  In  nearly  every  group  occupied  by  the 
Sawaiori  race  there  is  now  a  considerable  vernacular  literature, 
embracing  elementary  works  oi»  most  branches  of  l^nowledge. 
Amongst  the  other  races  the  literature  is  of  much  smaller  extent. 
The  entire  Bible  has  been  translated  into  five  of  the  principal 
Sawaiori  languages  of  Polynesia.  The  entire  Now  Testament,  and 
a  considerable  portion  of  tho  Old,  haa  been  translated  into  a  sixth 
languagff,  besides  smaller  portions  into  others.  The  American 
Bible  Society  has  supplied  the  Bibles  for  the  Hawaiian  Islands. 
Many  portions  of  the  Scriptures  for  other  islands  have  been  printed 
either  in  the  islands  or  in  Australia.  .  Of  the  number  of  copies 
thus  circulated  no  record  is  easily  accessible,  but  the  British  and 
Foreign  Bible  Society  has  issued  153,462  entire  Bibles  or  New 
Testaments  in  the  Samoan,  Tahitiaii,  Toiigan,  Rarotongan,  and 
Niuean  languages.  As  among  this  race  one  translation  serves  for 
an  entire  group,  and  in  some  cases  for  two  or  three  groups,  nearly 
all  tho  people  possess  the  Scriptures.'-  Jn  no  part  of  the  world  is  the 
Bible  more  read  than  it  is  by  these  islanders  ;  and  it  has  not  been 
necessary  to  give  the  Scriptures  to  them  without  charge  in  order  to 
induce  them  to  read.  '  ^ 

I  In  many  islands  tho  pastoral  work  is  now  mostly  done  by  native 
ministers, — the  foreign  missionaries  who  remain  devoting  them- 
selves to  superintendence,  higher  education,  and  literature.'  The 
native  pastors  are  always  su|iported  by  the  voluntary  gifts  of  tho 
people  to  whom  they  minister.  Tho  jieojile  also  build  their  own 
churches  and  schools,  and  meet  all  the  expenses  connected  with 
public  worship  and  education,  upon  the  voluntary  principle.  No 
portion  of  Christendom  is  better  supplied  with  religious  instruction 
than  the  Christianized  islands  of  Polynesia,  and  nowhere  is  there 
more  regard  paid  by  tho  people  generally  to  Sabbath  observance, 
to  public  worship,  and  to  other  outward  duties  of  religion.  Family 
worship  is  almost  invariably  observed. 

With  all  this,  too  many  of  the  people  are  religious  only  in  name  ; 
and  in  the  neighbourhood  of  ports,  where  casual  visitors  usually  see 
ami  judge  the  native  character,  there  are  some  who  have  added 
many  of  the  white  man's  vices  to  their  own.  But  in  estimating  the 
inllucnce  of  Christianity  upon  these  people  we  should  remember 
that  only  .about  one  hrtli  of  the  nominal  Christians  aro  communi- 
cants. If  they  be  judged  fairly,  taking  into  consideration  their 
past  history  and  tho  short  time  they  have  been  under  Christian 
influence,  the  present  writer  is  convinced  that  the  verdict  will  be 
favourable  as  compared  with  any  Christian  people  in  the  world. 
Every  one  will  admit  that  social,  moral,  and  spiritual  reformations 
are  not  completed  in  a  generation,  but  require  time  to  bring  them 
to  maturity. 

Population — its  alleged  Decrease. — There  is  a  general  notion 
abroad  that  in  all  the  islands  ot  Polynesia  tho  nativo  races  are 
rapiilly  decreasing  ;  and  this  supposed  fact  is  sometimes  attributed 
to  tho  iiiissionaries.  The  alleged  diminution,  however,  is  a  general 
conclusion  from  particular  premises,  and  facts  drawn  from  wider 
observations  do  not  confirm  it.  Tho  question  of  the  decrease  of 
)iopulation  in  these  islands  is  a  wide  ono,  which  cannot  bo  fully 
di.sciissed  within  tho  limits  of  the  present  article  ;  but  a  few  general 
observations,  and  a  few  particular  facts,  may  help  to  throw  some 
light  upon  it.  (1)  Tho  estimates  of  population  made  by  the  first 
European  or  American  visitors  to  Polynesia  were  far  too  nigh.  In 
marly  all  islands  tho  people  live  almost  entirely  upon  tho  coast ; 
hence  it  was  an  error  to  reckon  tho  inland  portions  as  having  a 
population  proportionate  to  the  number  of  ]ieoplo  seen  upon  tho 
coast.  Then,  when  the  visits  of  foreign  ships  were  a  novelty,  the 
people  from  other  districts  would  crowd  to  tho  place  where  iho 
ships  anchored  to  see  them.  Thus  the  population  of  particular 
villages  was  over-estimated.  In  the  last  edition  of  this  I'nnjclo- 
pwdiii  the  pojiulation  of  Samoa  is  said  to  bo  variously  estimated 
at  from  160,000  to  as  few  as  38,000.  It  is  now  known  that  oven 
tho  lowest  estimate  was  somewhat  over  tho  actual  number.'  Most 
of  tho  other  groups  were  also  greatly  over-estimated,  llcneo  tho 
decrease  of  population  in  any  of  the  islands  since  they  have  bccoiiiB 
known  is  not  so  great  ns  it  is  supposed  to  be.  •  (2)  Those  who  havo 
resided  in  Polynesia,  and  who  have  made  observations  on  the  sub- 
ject, know  that  previous  to  tho  introduction  of  Christianity  thcr» 
had  been  a  great  decrease  in  the  population  of  most  of  the  islands. 
There  aro  numerous  evidences  that  thiy  were  formerly  much. more 

1  In  Kalurt,  (or  IS70.  vol.  jlv.  pp.  lOO-Ol,  Mr  Whilmfe  rut*  the  Intent  rpniiii 
"of  ivimoa.  token  by  nctunl  cminllnii,  m  lielnK  ai.SCi  In  IS74  Yet,  In  hU.tuXra/ 
uti'd,  publMicd  In  ls;9,  Mr  A.  It.  W'nllnoc  >a)b  the  pol>vlatlon  «(  Ulcsc  L-Iiliill 
"  l>  virluubl/  cstlinttctl  at  39,000  or.CO.OOO."  - 


428 


P  O  L  — P  O  L 


thickly  peopled.  Wars,  infanticide,  human  sacrifices,  and  canni- 
balism are  doubtless  among  the  causes  of  depopulation.  (3)  Where 
the  scourge  of  syphilis  had  not  spread  before  Christianity  was 
received,  and  the  love  of  ardent  spirits  has  not  corrupted  the  people, 
there  the  population  has  generally  increased.  It  is  founi  from  a 
record  of  births  and  deaths  in  some  parts  of  Samoa,  and  from 
periodical  census  returns  as  a  result  of  actual  counting  from  the 
whole  of  that  group,  that,  apart  from  the  destruction  caused  by  war, 
the  population  there  increases  at  the  rate  of  about  1  per  cent,  per 
annum.  Although  Samoa  has  suffered  more  from  internecine 
wars  than  any  other  Christian  group  in  Polynesia,  there  are  more 
natives  now  living  there  than  when  they  were  first  counted  in 
1843,  the  number  then  being  33,901.  The  increase  in  Tonga  has 
been  25  per  cent,  in  twenty  years.'  On  the  island  of  Niue  the  in- 
crease is  more  than  3  per  cent,  per  annum.  On  several  other  groups 
there  has  been  increase,  though  figures  are  not  available.  The  rapid 
decline  of  population  in  Hawaii  is  entirely  exceptional. 

Commerce'. — Information  on  this  subject,  as  far  as  it  is  available, 
is  given  in  the  special  articles  en  particular  groups.  The  following 
is  a  fair  specimen  of  the  kind  and  extent  of  the  commerce  whiclx 
has  grown  in  Polynesia  since  Christianity  has  made  the  islands  safe 
and  profitable  places  for  the  residence  of  traders.'  From  Cook 
Islands,  containing  a  population  of  about  8000,  and  three  atolls 
which  lie  north  of  that  group,  viz.,  Tongareva,  Kakaanga,  and 
Manihiki,  with  a  population  of  about  4060,  the  exports  during  1S83 
were  150  tons  of  cotton  free  from  seeds,  50  tons  of  coffee,  1000  tons 
of  copra,  84  tons  of  pearl  shell,  and  about  100,000  gallons  of  linio 
juice,  besides  5000  crates  of  oranges,  containing  about  300  per 
crate.  Mr  Gill  estimates  the  market  value  of  this  produce  at 
£50,000, — more  than  £4  per  head  for  the  native  population.  Part 
is  purchased  by  merchants  in  Tahiti,  and  part  goes  to  Auckland, 
New  Zealand.  There  are  not  many  islands  whence  fruit  is  exported, 
although,  if  there  were  markets  within  a  few  days'  sail,  a  large  quan- 
tity of  fine  oranges,  pine-apples,  and  bananas  might  be  provided. 
In  1878  the  figures  collected  by  the  present  writer  relating  to  the 
trade  in  Samoa,  Tonga,  and  several  other  islands  in  that  neighbour- 
hood, showed  that  the  exports  averaged  annually  about  £4  each  for 
the  entire  population,  and  that  the  imports  were  only  a  little  less. 

Prehistoric  Remains. — The  most  remarkable  of  these  are  on 
Easter  Island,  which  lies  at  the  south-eastern  extremity  of  Poly- 
nesia, nearly  2500  miles  from  South  America.  This  island  is  of 
volcanic  formation,  and  is  about  11  miles  long  by  4  miles  wide. 
The  present  inhabitants  belong  to  the  Sawaiori  race.  Here  are 
found  immense  platforms  built  of  large  cut  stones  fitted  together 
without  cement.  They  are  generally  built  upon  headlands,  and  on 
the  slope  towards  the  sea.  The  walls  on  the  sea-side  are,  in  some 
of  the  platforms,  nearly  30  feet  high  and  from  200  to  300  feet  long, 
by  about  30  feet  wide.  Some  of  the  squared  stones  are  as  much  as 
C  feet  long.  On  the  land  side  of  the  platforms  there  is  a  broad 
terrace  with  large  stone  pedestals  upon  which  once  stood  colossal 
Btone  images  carved  somewhat  into  the  shape  of  the  human  trunk. 
On  some  of  the  platforms  there  are  upwards  of  a  dozen  images  now 
thrown  from  their  pedestals  and  lying  in  all  directions.  Their 
ustial  height  is  from  14  to  16  feet,  but  the  largest  are  S7  feet,  while 
some  are  only  about  4  feet.  They  are  formed  from  a  grey  trachytic 
lava  found  at  the  east  end  of  the  island.  The  top  of  the  heads  of 
the  images  is  tut  flat  to  receive  round  crowns  made  of  a  reddish 
vesicular  tuff  found  at  a  crater  about  8  miles  distant  from  the  quarry 
where  the  images  were  cut.  A  number  of  these  crowns  stOl  lie  at 
the  crater  apparently  ready  for  removal,  some  of  the  largest  being 
over  10  feet  iu  diameter  .  In  the  atlas  illustrating  the  royage 
of  La  Perouso  a  plan  of  the  island  is  given,  with  the  position  of 
several  of  the  platforms.  Two  of  the  images  are  also  represented 
in  a'plato.  One  statue,  8  feet  in  height  and  weighing  4  tons,  was 
brought  to  England,  and  is  now  in  the  British  Museum.  In  one 
part  of  the  island  are  the  remains  of  stone  houses  nearly  100  foet 
long  by  about  20  feet  wide.  These  are  built  in  courses  of  large  flat 
stones  fitted  together  without  cement,  the  walls  being  about  5  feet 
thick  snd  over  5  feet  high.  They  are  lined  on  the  inside  with 
upright  slabs,  on  which  are  painted  geometrical  figures  and  repre- 
sentations of  animals.  The  roofs  are  formed  by  placing  slabs  so  that 
each  course  overlaps  the  lower  one  until  the  opening  becomes  about 
5  feet  wide,  when  it  is  covered  with  fiat  slabs  reaching  from  one  side 
to  the  other.  The  lava  rocks  near  the  houses  are  carved  into  the 
resemblance  of  various  animals  and  human  faces,  forming,  probably, 
a  kind  of  picture  writing.  Wooden  tablets  covered  with  varions 
signs  and  figures  hav3  also  been  found.  The  only  ancient  imple- 
ment discovered  on  the  island  is  a  kind  of  stone  chisel,  but  it  seems 
impossible  that  such  large  and  numerous  works  could  have  been 
executed  with  such  a  tool.  The  present  inhabitants  of  Easter 
Island  know  nothing  of  the  construction  of  these  remarkable  works  ; 
and  the  entire  subject  of  their  existence  in  this  small  and  remote 
island  is  a  mystery. 

'  This  fact  is  stated  on  the  authority  of  the  Rev.  Mr  Moulton,  a 
ftiissionary  residing  there,  and  it  is  the  result  of  counting. 
2  From  figures  supplied  by  the  Rev.  W.  W.  Gill.  S.A. 


On  the  islan'l  of  Tonga-tabn,  Tonga  group,  there  is  a  remarkabls 
monument.  Two  large  rectangular  blocks  of  stone,  about  40  feet 
in  height,  stand  perpendicularly,  with  a  large  slab  lying  across  from 
one  to  the  other.  On  the  centre  of  the  horizontal  stone  is  a  large 
stone  bowl.  The  island  upon  which  this  monument  is  found  is  of 
coral  formation  slightly  elevated.  These  immense  stones  must 
therefore  have  been  conveyed  thither  by  sea.  The  present  inhabit- 
ants know  nothing  of  their  history,  or  of  the  object  which  they  were 
intended  to  serve. 

In  Ponape,  one  of  the  islands  of  the  Caroline  group,  there  are 
extensive  ruins,  the  principal  being  a  court  about  300  feet  in  length, 
the  walls  of  which  are  formed  of  basaltic  prisms  and  are  about  30 
feet  in  height.  Inside,  on  all  four  sides,  next  the  wall  is  a  terrace 
8  feet  high  and  12  feet  wide.  The  court  is  divided  into  three  by  low 
walls,  and  in  the  centre  of  each  division  there  is  a  covered  chamber 
14  feet  square.  The  walls  above  the  terrace  are  8  feet  thick,  and 
some  of  the  stones  are  25  feet  long  by  8  feet  in  circumference.  The 
basaltic  columns  of  which  this  structure  is  built  were  apparently 
brought  a  distance  of  10  miles  from  the  central  ridge  of  tlie  island. 
There  are  other  ruins  of  smaller  extent  on  Ponape,  and  also  on  the 
island  of  Kusaie  in  the  same  group.  Ponape  and  Kusaie  are  rem- 
nants of  larger  islands  which  have  been  partially  submerged.  "While 
the  smaller  islands  around  which  the  coral  polypes  built  up  the 
atolls  have  disappeared,  these  two  remain  as  monuments  of  the  past. 

North-west  from  Ponape,  in  the  Mariana  or  Ladrone  Islands, 
there  are  other  remains  in  the  shape  of  stone  columns  about  14  feet 
high,  with  a  semi-globular  stone  nearly  6  feet  in  diameter  on  the 
top  of  each,  the  rounded  side  being  uppermost. 

Thus  in  four  different  and  widely  separated  parts  of  Polynesia 
there  are  relics  of  prehistoric  people.  These  together  form  one  of 
the  greatest  puzzles  the  ethnologist  has  to  deal  with.     (S.  J.  W. ) 

POLYPE.  In  its  Greek  and  Latin  forms  the  word 
polypus  was  first  used  as  descriptive  of  the  Cuttle-fish 
(q.v.).  In  speaking  of  the  Acakphx  Aristotle  says,  "They 
hold  their  prey  as  the  polypus  does  with  its  feelers,"  and 
there  is  no  doubt  that  in  this  and  other  passages  he 
referred  to  the  octopus.  The  word  was  also,  though  less 
generally,  applied  to  the  woodlouse  {Oniscus) — the  reason 
for  both  usages  being  equally  evident.  Though  the 
former  meaning  persists  in  the  word  poulpe,  yet  by  the 
beginning  of  the  18th  century  it  seems  to  have' been  for- 
gotten, and  the  word  was  by  analogy  transferred  to  a 
group  of  animals  then  beginning  to  attract  much  attention. 
B^aumur  and  Bernard  de  Jussieu  were  the  first  to  fix  the 
usage  of  the  word  polype  as  applicable  to  hydroids,  corals, 
and  Polyzoa.  In  following  up  the  discoveries  of  Marsigli 
and  Peysonelle  in  regard  to  the  little  corai  organisms, 
Jussieu  used  the  name  polype  definitely  to  describe  those 
Sertularians,  Alcyonians,  sea-mats,  ifec,  which  were  then 
(1742)  known  as  animals.  Trembley  had  previously 
rediscovered  Leeuwenhoek's  Hydra,  and  described  it  as  a 
freshwater  polype  in  a  work  which  appeared  in  1744. 
A  polyzoon  too,  discovered  both  by  Trembley  and  Baker 
in  1741,  was  called  oy  the  former  Polype  d,  Panachi.  We 
find  the  word  used  with  the  same  content  as  Jussieu  had 
assigned  to  it  by  EUis  in  1755,  by  Cavclini  in  1783,  and 
by  others.  In  1816  Lamouroux  published  his  Histoire  des 
Polypiers  Coralligen^s,  in  the  preface  of  which  he  speaks 
of  the  varied  character  of  this  group  of  animals  "  nomm^s 
Hydres  par  Linn^  et  Polypes  par  K^aumur."  In  his  own 
use  of  the  term  he  applied  it  to  sponges,  hydroids,  corals, 
aoc '  Flustrx.  Lamarck  too  used  the  word  very  widely,  and 
spoke  of  Polypei  as  (1)  ciliati,  including  some  Infusorian? 
and  Rotifers;  (2)  denudati,  including //ycfra,  Coryne,  ic. ; 
(3)  vaginati,  including  Drfflugia,  Spongilla,  Tubnlaiia, 
Millepores  and  Madrepores,  Alcyonia,  Cristatetla,  Flvstra, 
ikc. ;  and  (4)  natantes,  including  Pennatida,  Virgularia, 
Eiicrinus,  &c.  Sometimes,  however,  he  used  the  word  in  a 
more  restricted  sense.  Cuvier  (1819-1830)  distinguished 
three  classes  of  polypes  : — (1)  fleshy — Admix  and  Lncer- 
narix;  (2)  gelatinous — Hydra,  Cristatella,  Coryne,  Vorti- 
cella,  &.C.;  and  (3)  Coralliferx — Sponges,  Madrepores, 
Millepores,  Tubularia,  Sertularia,  Alcyonidx,  Fl'ustrx,  iS-r. 
Sub.sequently  he  improved  on  this  and  recognized  (1)  an 
Actinia  group,  (2)  a  group  like  Hydra  and  Sertularia,  and 
(3)  Polypes  &   PolyiHej:<<r    wliich   he  again   divided  into 


P  O  L  — P  O  L 


429 


A  ntkozoa  axid  Bryozoa.  From  1 830  onwards  there  was  a 
distinct  tendency  to  separate  the  Pobjzoa  from  the  polypes 
— th^y  are  spoken  of  as  higher  Polypi,  compound  polypes, 
&c.'  In  1831  Ehrenberg  described  the  Poli/pioi  Guriulia 
as  a  class  of  the  Phytozoa,  and  distinguished  the  true  polypes 
or  Anthozoa  from  the  Bi'yozoa.  Milne-Edwards  expressly 
excludes  the  Bryozoa,  and  restricts  the  term  polype  to  the 
Zoantharia  and  Alcyonaria  inclusive  of  Hydra  and  Lucer- 
naria.  In  1847  Frey  and  Leuckart  placed  the  Polyzoa  by 
themselves,  and  united  the  remaining  Polypi  of  Cuvier 
along  with  the  Acalephx  under  the  class  name  Ccelenterata, 
which  the  latter  afterwards  (1853)  divided  into  (1)  Cteno- 
phora,  (2)  Medusse,  and  (3)  Polypes.  Modern  anatomists 
generally  agree  in  confining  the  term  to  the  individuals 
(zooids  or  personx)  of  hydriform  Ilydromedusx  and 
Actinozoa,  and  frequently  restrict  it  to  the  former  (see 
Hydrozoa,  Cokals). 

POLYPTERUS,  a  genus  of  Ganoid  fishes  common  in 
many  rivers  of  tropical  Africa,  and  known  on  the  Nile  by 
the  name  of  abH  bishlr.  Their  body  is  cylindrical  in  shape, 
elongate,  and  covered  with  hard,  polished,  ganoid  scales, 
which  are  arranged  in  oblique  series.  The  head,  with 
flattened  snout  and  wide  mouth,  is  protected  by  bony 
plates  with  ganoid  external  surface,  of  which  a  series  of 
"supra-temporal"  and  "spiracular"  ossicles  are  especially 
characteristic.  Spiracles,  or  external  openings  of  a  canal 
leading  into  the  pharynx  are  persistent  throughout  life, 
situated  on  each  side  of  the  parietal  bone,  and  closed  by 
an  osseous  valve.  The  lips  are  fleshy,  but  the  space 
between  the  rami  of  the  mandible  is  covered  by  a  large 
"gular"  plate.  The  vent  is  placed  far  backwards,  in 
front  of  the  anal  fin,  the  tail  being  short.  With  a  diphy- 
ccrcal  termination  of  the  vertebral  column.  The  mouth 
is  well  provided  with  rasp-like  teeth,  forming  broad  bands 
in  the  jaws,  on  the  vomer  and  palatine  bones.  The 
paired  fins  are  supported  by  an  axial  skeleton.  The 
structure  of  the  dorsal  fin  is  unique  :  its  anterior  portion 
is  composed  of  isolated  finlets,  from  eight  to  eighteen  in 
number,  each  of  which  consists  of  a  flattened  spine  with  a 
bifurcate  termination  ;  to  the  posterior  aspect  of  the  top 
of  each  spine  several  soft  rays  are  attached,  which  result 
from  the  dichotomous  division  of  a  single  ray,  the  basal 
portion  of  which  is  the  spine.  Posteriorly  these  finlets 
pass  into  the  ordinary  rays  composing  the  caudal  fin, 
which  surrounds  the  tail.  The  ventral  fins  are  well- 
developed,  and  inserted  behind  the  middle  of  the  length  of 
the  trunk.  The  respiratory  apparatus  consists  of  three 
and  a  half  gills,  and  is  protected  by  an  osseous  gill-cover. 


An  external  gill  of  considerable  size  in  the  form  of  a 
tapering  band  fringed  with  respiratory  lamina;  exists  in 
young  examples,  and  is  attached  to  the  end  of  the  gill- 
cover.  The  air-bladder  is  double,  and  communicates  with 
the  ventral  wall  of  the  pharynx. 

Such  are  some  of  the  principal  characteristics  of  one  of  the  most 
interesting  representatives  of  a  type  wliich  in  Pobjptcrus  haa 
survived  from  the  Devonian  and  Carboniferous  foiinations  to  our 
period  ;  for  further  details  of  its  internal  organization  see  IcUTBTO- 
LOGY.  The  centre  of  distribution  of  Pohjplcrus  is  the  lake  region 
of  tropical  Africa,  from  wliich  the  Nile  and  the  great  rivers  of 
West  Africa  take  their  origin.  A  very  remarkable  fact  is  its  total 
absence  in  the  East-African  river  systems  which  belong  to  the 
Indian  Ocean.  Specimens  of  the  bishir  have  been  found  in  the 
Nile  as  low  as  Cairo,  but  it  is  very  scarce  throughout  the  niiddlo 
and  lower  parts  of  that  river  ;  such  individuals  have  evidently 
been  carried  by  the  current  down  from  southern  latitudes,  and  do 
not  propagate  tlie  species  in  the  northern  parts.  As  mentioned 
above,  the  number  of  the  rays  which  are  modified  into  finlets  varies 
considerably,  and  consequently  several  species  have  been  distin- 
guished by  some  naturalists,  whilst  others  hold  that  there  is  one 
species  of  Pohjptcms  only.  The  largest  specimens  observed  had  a 
length  of  4  feet.  Nothing  is  known  of  its  habits  and  pi'opagation, 
and  observations  thereon  are  very  desirable.  Some  years  ago  an 
extremely  interesting  dwarf  form  of  Polyptcrus  was  discovered  in 
Old  Calabar,  and  described  under  the  name  of  Calamoichthya 
calabaricns.  It  much  resembles  the  bishir  but  is  smaller,  and 
considerably  more  elongate. 

POLYPUS,  a  term  in  surgery,  signifying  a  tumour 
which  is  attached  by  a  narrow  neck  to  the  walls  of  a 
cavity  lined  with  mucous  membrane.  A  polypus  or 
polypoid  tumour  may  belong  to  any  variety  of  tumour, 
either  simple  or  malignant.  The  most  common  variety  is 
a  polypus  of  the  nose  of  simple  character  and  easily 
removed.  Polypi  are  also  met  with  in  the  ear,  larynx, 
uterus,  vagina,  and  rectum.     See  Surgery. 

POLYSPERCHON,  one  of  Alexander's  general-s,  and 
the  successor  of  Antipater  as  regent  in  Macedonia  in  318 
B.C.  He  was  driven  from  the  kingdom  by  Cassander  in  316. 
For  the  leading  incidents  of  his  brief  term  of  ofliice  see 
Phocion  (vol.  xviii.  p.  800) ;  compare  also  Macedonia. 

POLYXENA,  in  Greek  legend,  a  daughter  of  Priam, 
last  king  of  Troy,  and  Hecuba.  She  had  been  betrothed 
to  Achilles,  and  after  his  death  and  the  destruction  of 
Troy  the  ghost  of  Achilles  appeared  to  the  returning 
Greeks  as  they  were  encamped  on  the  Thracian  Chersonese 
and  demanded  of  them  the  sacrifice  of  Polyxena.  The 
Greeks  consented  and  Ncoptolcmus,  son  of  Achilles,  sacri- 
ficed Polyxena  on  his  father's  grave.  This  tragic  story  is 
the  subject  of  the  Hecuba  of  Euripides  and  the  Troades  of 
Seneca.  Of  Sophocles'a  tragedy  Polyxena  a  few  fragments 
only  remain. 


POLYZOA 


POLYZOA  is  the  name  applied  by  J.  Vaughan  Thompson 
in  1830  (1)>  to  a  group  of  minute  polyp-like  organisms 
which  were  subsequently  (1834)  termed  "Bryozoa"  by 
Ehrenberg  (2).  The  forms  included  in  this  group  were 
stated  by  Thompson  to  be  "in  a  general  way  the  whole 
of  the  Flustracece,  in  many  of  which  I  have  clearly  ascer- 
tained the  animals  to  be  Polyzoa;,"  they  having  been  pre- 
viously considered  by  zoologists  to  be  allied  to  the  Hydra- 
like polyps.  These  organisms  had  previously  been  known 
by  the  hard  corneous  "  cells  "  or  chambers  which  are  formed 
by  the  animals  on  the  surface  of  their  bodies,  and  build  up, 
in  consequence  of  the  formation  of  dense  colonies  by  bud- 
ding, complex  aggregates  known  as  "  sea  mats  "  and  "  sea 
mosses."  Thom[)son  expressly  stated  the  opinion  that  the 
organization  of  the  animals  detected  by  him  led  to  the 
conclusion  that  "  they  must  bo  considered  as  a  new  typo  of 
the  Mollusca  Acephala." 
'  These  numbers  refer  to  the  bibliograpliy  at  the  end  of  the  article. 


Subsequently  (1844)  Henri  Milne-Edwards  (3)  pointed 
out  the  relationship  of  Thompson's  Polyzoa  to  the  Brachio- 
poda,  and,  adopting  the  latter's  view  as  to  their  Molluscan 
affinities,  proposed  to  unite  these  two  classes  with  the 
Tunicata  in  a  group  to  be  called  "  MoUnscoidea."  Re- 
cent researches  have  entirely  separated  the  Tunicata  from 
this  association,  and  have  demonstrated  that  they  belong 
to  the  great  phylum  of  Vertebrata.  On  the  other  hand 
the  association  of  the  Polyzoa  with  the  Rrachiopoda  ap- 
pears at  present  to  be  confirmed,  though  the  relationship  of 
these  two  classes  to  the  Mollusca  has  been  shown  to  rest  on 
mistaken  identification  of  parts;  see,  however,  Harmor(18). 

The  Polyzoa  appear  to  bo  related  to  the  Sipunculoid 
Gephyr.fan  worms  (GephyrKa  inerniia)  more  nearly  than 
to  any  other  class  of  the  animal  kingdom.  The  study  and 
interpretation  of  the  facts  of  their  ontogeny  (growth  from 
the  egg)  presents  such  extreme  difficulty  that  in  the  pre- 
sent state  of  our  knowledge  it  ia  necessary  to  regard  them 


430 


P  0  L  Y  Z  0  A 


nd  interim  as  forming  with  the  Brachiopoda  and  Sipuncu- 
Jojds  an  isolated  group,  to  which  the  uamc  "  Podaxonia " 
may  be  api)lied,  pending  the  decision  of  their  affinities  by 
the  increase  of  our  knowledge  of  the  embryology  of  import- 
ant members  of  the  group. ^ 

The  forms  included  at  the  present  day  in  Thorapsdh's 
class  of  "  Polyzoa  "  may  then  be  thus  classified  : — 

Phylum   PODAXONIA. 
Class  I.—SIPUNCULOIDEA. 
Class  W.— BRACHIOPODA. 
Class  n\.— POLYZOA. 

Section  1.— VERMIFORMI.A. 

Sole  genus  :   Plioronis  (figs.  4  4ud  D). 
Section  2.— PTEROBRANCHIA. 
Genus  1  :  llhabdnplcura.  (Rg.  7). 
Genus  2:   Crphalodiscus  (figs.  8,  9,  10). 
Section  3.— EUPOLYZOA. 
Sub-class  1. — Ectoproctfl. 

Order  1. — Phylactol.ema. 

Examples :  Lophoptis,  PlumcUella  (fig.   2,  B>    Ctistaklia 
(fig.  3),  FredericeUa. 
Order  2. — GTMNOLa:MA. 
Sub-order  1. — Cyclostonia. 

Examples:  Crista  (fig.   13,  A),   Homera,   Tubulipora, 
Discoporclla. 
Sub-order  2. — Ctenustoma. 

Examples;  Alq/onidiuvi.VesicnIaria,  Serialaria,  Bower- 
baiikia  (fig.  1 ,  A),  Paludicella  'fig.  1,  E  and  fig.  2,  A). 
Sub-order  3. — Chilostoma. 

Examples :  Cdhdaria,  ScrtipoctVaria,  •Kinctoskias  (fig. 
14).  Bugula,  Biccllaria,  Flustra  (fig.  1,   G),  Mvcro- 
■nella   (fig.    1,    C,   D,   F),    Mcmbranipora,    Lepralia, 
_  Eschara,  Ccllcpora,  Betcpora. 

Sub-class  2. — Eutoprocta. 

Genera:  Pcdiccllina  (fig.  15),  Loxosoma  ffig.  16),  Urna- 
tcUa,  Ascopodnrip. 
'We  shall  most  readily  arrive  at  ^  conception  of  the 
essential  structure  of  a  Polyzoon,  and  of  the  variations  to 
which  that  essential  structure  is  subject  within  the  class, 
by  first  examining  one  member  of  the  group  in  detail  and 
subsequently  reviewing  the  characters  pi^sented  by  the 
divergent  sub-classes,  orders,  &c.,  above"  indicated. 

The  most  convenient  form  for  our  purpose  is  Paludicella 
Ehrenhergii  (fig.  2,  A),  belonging  to  the  typical  section  of 
the  class  (the  Eupolyzoa)  and  to  the  order  Gymnolaema. 
The  organism  occurs  as  minute  tree-like  growths  (iigs.  2, 
A  and  1,  E)  attached  to  stones  in  freshwater  streams  and 
canals.  The  branches  of  the  little  tree  are  rarely  more  than 
an  inch  in  length,  and  are  regularly  swollen  and  jointed  at 
intervals.  Each  of  the  very  numerous  joints  is  about  one- 
fifth  of  an  inch  long,  and  is  in  reality  a  tubular  horny  box 
attached  above  and  below  to  the  preceding  and  succeeding 
joints,  and  having  on  one  side  of  it  a  spout-like  aperture 
from  which  a  crown  of  tentacles  can  be  protruded.  Each 
joint  is  thus  inhabited  by  a  distinct  animal  which  is  more 
or  less  completely  shut  off  from  the  ono  in  front  of  it  and 
the  one  behind  it,  although  it  originated  from  the  hinder 
and  has  given  rise  to  the  fore-lying  individual  by  a  process 
of  budding,  and  retains  a  continuity  of  substance  with  both. 
A  single  cell  or  joint  with  its  contained  animal  is  renre- 
sented*  in  fig.  2,  A. 

Paludicella  produces  an  arboriform  colony,  the  main 
trunk  or  stolon  being  adherent  to  some  stone  or  piece  of 
wood.  The  substance  of  the  wall  of  the  cells  is  formed 
by  a  chemical  body  allied  to  chitin.  Other  Polyzoa  may 
form  mat-like  expansions — the  cells  being  placed  in  one 
plane,  side  by  side  (fig.  1,  C,  D,  F,  G),  as  well  as  in  linear 
series ;  others  again  form  solid  masses,  whilst  many  agree 
with  Paludicella  in  the  simple  linear  arrangement  of  their 
units.  Pho'ronis  and  Loxosoma,  on  the  other  hand,  do 
not  form  colonies  at  all — the  former  because  it  does  not 

'  The  research  of  Harmer  (18)  on  Loxosoma  is  published  too  late 
for  due  notice  in  this  article.  It  tend.s  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
t'upolyzoa  are  after  all  degraded  MoUusca,  and  have  no  connexion 
with  the  Vermiformia,  Pterobranchia,  Brachiopoda,  and  Sipuncoloidea. 
The  reader  is  refen'ed  to  Mr  Harmcr's  memoir. 


bud,  the  latter  because  the  buds  become  detached  from 
their  parent  as  soon  as  formed,  as  do  the  buds  of  the 
Hydrozoon  Hydra. 

On  the  whole  Paludicella  presents  us  with  a  very  simpl» 
form  of  Polyzoon-colony  (technically  termed  a  "zoarium"), 
in  which  the  aggregate  of  budded  persons,  each  of  which 


Fio.  1. — Vai-ious  forms  of  zoaria  of  Eupolyzoa. 

A.  'Bowerbankia  pustulosa,  one  of  tjie  Ctenostoma ;  natural  size. 

B.  A  cluster  of  polypides    of  Boicerbankia   pustulosa,    some  with  expanded 

tentacles  ;  more  highly  magnifled. 

C.  ZocEcia  of  ilucronclla  pavonelta  (Chilostoma) ;  highly  maffnifieti. 

D.  Zoarium  of  ifucronetta  pavonelta,  forming  a  disk-like  encnistation  on  a 

piece  of  stone;  natural  size. 

E.  Zoarium  of  Paludicella  Ehrenbergii  (Ctenostoma) ,  natural  size. 

F.  ZocECia  of  Mueronella  Peachii ;  highly  magnified.    Compare  with  C  in  Older 

to  note  specific  charuclera 
Q,  Zoarium  of  Flustra  securi/rttns\  natural  size. 

is  called  a  "polypi(Je,"  does  not  exhibit  any  marked  intli- 
viduation,  but  is  irregular  and  tree-like.  But,  just  as  in 
the  Hydrozoa  we  find  the  Siphonophora  presenting  us  with 
a  very  definite  shape  and  individuality  of  the  aggregate  or 
colony,  80  in  the  Polyzoa  we  find  instances  of  high  indi- 


p 


0  L  Y  Z  O  A 


431 


vlduation  of  the  zoarium  of  a  similar  kind.  The  most 
remarkable  example  is  afforded  by  the  locomotive  zoarium 
or  colony  of  Cristiitella  (fig.  3) ;  and  another  very  striking 
instance  is  that  of  the  stalked  zoaria  of  Kinetoskias 
(fig.  14)  and  Adeona. 

The  horny  consistence  of  the  cells  which  are  produced 
by  Paludicella  is  very  usual  in  other  Polyzoa ;  but  we  find 
frequently  that  the  substance  which  forms  the  cells  is 
gelatinous  and  soft  instead  of  being  horny,  or  again  may 
be  strongly  calcareous.  The  term  ccetuecinm  is  a])plied  to 
the  mass  of  cells  belonging  to  a  colony  or  zoarium  when 
considered  apart  from  the  living  polypides  wjiich  form  it. 
Often  such  coeno3cia  are  found  retaining  form  and  structure 
when  the  soft  living  polypides  have  decomposed  and  dis- 
appeared. A  single  cell  of  the  coencecium,  corresponding 
to  a  single  polypide,  is  called  by  the  special  students  of 
the  Polyzoa  a  zoceciuvi. 

If  we  examine  a  single  cell  or  zooecium  of  Paludicella 
more  carefully  whilst 
its  polypide  is  alive, 
we  discover  that  the 
horny  cell  is  nothing 
more  than  the  cuticle 
of  the  polypide  itself, 
to  which  it  is  absol- 
utely adherent.  At 
the  so-called  "  mouth  " 
or  spout  of  the  cell 
the  cuticle  suddenly 
changes  its  character 
and  becomes  a  vet-y 
delicate  and  soft  pel- 
licle instead  of  being 
thickandhorny.  There 
is  no  real  discontinuity 
of  the  cuticle  at  this 
region,  but  merely  a 
change  in  its  qualities. 
This  gives  to  that  por- 
tion of  the  body  of  the 
polypide  which  lies 
beyond  the  spout  a 
mobility  and  capacity 
for  folding  and  pleat- 
ing which  is  entirely 
denied  to  that  part 
where  the  cuticle  is 
more  dense  (fig.  2,  A). 
Accordingly  we  find 
that  the  anterior  por- 
tion of  the- body  of  the 
polyi)ido  can  be  pulled 
into  the  hinder  part  as 
the  finger  of  a  glove 
may  be  tucked  into  the 
hand.  It  is,  in  fact,  an 
"introvert"  (for  the 
use  of  this  term  see 
MoLLuscA,  vol.  xvi. 
p.  652).  This  arrange- 
ment is  universal  in  the  Ectoproctous  Eujiolyzoa,  but  docs 
not  obtain  either  in  the  Entoprocta,  the  I'terobranchio,  or 
the  Vermiformia.  In  Phoronis,  Kliabdoplcura,  and  Cepha- 
lodiscus  the  anterior  part  of  the  body  can  Jioi  be  tucked  or 
telescoped  into  the  hinder  part  as  it  can  in  typical  Eu- 
polyzoa.  On  the  other  hand  it  is  very  inijiortanl  to  note 
that  the  Si|mnculoid  Gephyra;ans  are  all  preeminently 
characterized  by  pos-sessing  identically  this  arrangement. 
The  introversion  is  effected  in  Paludicella  (as  in  other  Eu- 
polyzoa)  by  a  series  of  long  detached  retractor  muscles  of 


Fio.  2.  — A.  Poln>liloof  PatudUeVa  Ehreubergii, 
ieen  as  b  transpurem  object  In  optlral  sucti'.n 
iirul  lilirlily  magiilOuJ  (fioin  Gcfjcntmur,  after 
Allman).  For  ndlurnl  pizo  «co  fip.  1,  E.  o, 
unus;  bi\  pei'lstoinial  circlet  of  cUldlcd  t«n- 
taclc-s;  i,  llilckened  ciitk-Ie  of  the  UoUy-wall, 
fomilnB  tlio  horny  cell  or  zoccciliin  ;  in, 
median  retractor  muscle  of  tho  introveralblu 
part  of  the  body  ;  r",  anterior  retractor  of  the 
same ;  mr,  Kreat  retractor  muAcIc  of  the  samH ; 
0,  ovary,  pittslns  f  i  otn  which  tu  the  atomach  Is 
the  anterior  mcsentt-ry  or  funiculus  ;  t,  testis  ; 
or,  a-sophaftus;  r,  stomucji ;  x,  posterior  mes- 
entery or  funiculus;  3f.  anterior  luesuntery  or 
funiculus.  (Ibaei-x'e  ai  the  iik;lit  uiipei  corner 
of  the  tiRui'e  tlu)  base  ul  a  senirid  poly|)l(lc  and 
the  "  rosetre-plale  "  of  sepuialloa, 

B.  Dia^'iaiii  of   a  Jiolypkle   of   I'luioatelln. 
Letters  as  above. 


considerable  power  (fig.  2,  A,  mr,  r',  m) ;  the  same  is  true 
of  Sipunculus. 

The  view  has  been  advanced  by  Allman  (4)  that  the  re- 
tractile part  of  the  polypide  is  to  be  considered  as  a  distinct 
individual  budded  from  the  basal  portion,  which  is  regarded 
as  an  equivalent  individual.  It  does  not  appear  to  the 
present  writer  that  such  a  theoretical  conception  tends  to 
facilitate  the  understanding  of  the  structure  and  relations 
of  these  animals. 

An  "ectocyst"  and  "endocyst"  have  also  been  distin- 
guished in  former  treatises,  and  these  terms  form  part  of  a 
special  "  polyzoarial  "  nomenclature,  but  do  not  appear  to 
be  any  longer  needful.  Equally  undesirable  is  the  misap- 
plied term  "endosarc"  lately  introduced  by  Jolliet  (5)  to 
denote  a  certain  portion  of  the  Polyzoon  structure  which 
will  not  bo  referred  to  here  by  that  name. 

The  retractile  or  introversible  portion  of  the  body  of  the 
polypide  of  Paludicella  is  terminated  by  a  crown  of  sixteen 
stiff  non-contractile  tentacles  (fig.  2,  A,  hr)  which  form  a 
circle  around  a  central  aperture— the  animal's  mouth. 
These  tentacles  are  hollow  and  beset  with  vibratile  cilia. 
The  beating  of  the  cilia  causes  a  powerful  current  in  the 
water  by  which  food  is  brought  to  the  animal's  mouth. 
Each  tentacle  is  also  muscular,  and  can  be  bent  and 
straightened  at  will.  The  tentacles  not  only  serve  to 
bring  food  into  the  mouth,  but  they  are  efficient  as  gill- 
filaments,  being  possibly  homologous  with  (as  well  as  func- 
tionally similar  to)  the  gill-fiJamcnts  of  Lamellibranch 
Molluscs.  They  also  serve  as  delicate  tactile  organs,  and 
are  the  only  sense  organs  possessed  by  the  Eupolyzoa. 

In  Paludicella  the  platform  around  the  mouth  from 
which  the  tentacles  arise,  or  hphophore,  as  it  is  termed,  is 
circular.  This  is  the  case  in  all  members  of  the  large 
group  of  Gymnolsema  and  in  the  Entoprocta.  But  in 
the  Phylactolaema  the  lophophoro  is  drawn  out  on  each 
side,  right  and  left,  so  as  to  present  a  horse-shoo  shape 
(fig.  2,  B),  and  in  some  forms,  notably  Lophopus  and 
Alcyonella,  tho  two  arms  or  diverging  rami  of  the  horse- 
shoe are  very  strongly  developed. 

In  the  PterobranchJa  tho  tentacles  are  confined  in  one 
genus  (Rhabdopleura)  to  the  two, arm-like  outgrowths  of 
the  lophophore,  and  arc  not  simply  hollow  but  contain  a 
well-developed  cartilaginoid  skeleton  (fig.  7).  In  tho  allied 
genus  Cephalodiscus  there  are  not  merely  a  single  pair  of 
such  arm-like  processes,  each  bearing  two  rows  of  tentacles, 
but  the  lophophore  is  developed  into  twelve  arm-like  pro- 
cesses (fig.  9),  which  form  a  dense  tuft  of  filaments  around 
the  anterior  extremity  of  tho-animal. 

In  the  Vermiformia  (Phoronis)  we  again  meet  with  a 
very  perfect  hor.se-shoe-shaped  lophophore  (fig.  4).  The 
tentacles  upon  the  crescentic  or  otherwise  lobed  circumoral 
region  of  tho  Sipunculoids  are  tho  representatives  of  tho 
tentacles  of  the  Polyzoa ;  whilst  the  tentaculiferous 
"arms"  of  the  Brachiopoda  appear  to  bo  the  cipiivalfuts 
of  the  Polyzoon's  lophophoro  much  drawn  out  and  in  n)ost 
cases  spirally  rolled. 

Just  below  tho  circular  crown  of  tentacles  in  Paludicella 
we  find  an  aperture  which  the  study  of  internal  anatomy 
proves  to  bo  the  anus.  In  all  Polyzoa  tho  anus  has  this 
lX)sition  near  tho  mouth  ;  and  in  this  respect  wo  again 
note  an  agiecnient  with  Sipunculus  and  tho  other  so-called 
Gephyraja  inermia.  In  one  division  of  the  Polyzoa  alone 
is  there  any  noteworthy  variation  in  tho  jX)sition  of  tho 
anus,  namely,  in  tho  Entoprocta  (sub-clnss  of  the  section 
Eupolyzoa).  In  these  forms  tho  anus,  instead,  of  .'ying 
just  below  the  lophophoro  or  platform  from  which  tho 
tentacloo  spring,  is  included  liko  the  mouth  within  ita 
area  (fig.  15,  C). 

Passing  now  to  tho  deeper  structure  of  Paludicella,  we 
find  that  it  is  a  Cwlomate  animal ;   that  is  to  say,  there 


432 


P  O  L  Y  Z  O  A 


exists  between  the  body-wall  and  the  wall  of  the  aliment- 
ary tract  a  distinct  space  termed  "perigastric  space," 
"  body-cavity,"  or  "ccelom."  This  is  true  of  all  Polyzoa, 
though  it  has  been  erroneously  stated  by  G.  O.  Sars  that 
Rhabdopleura  does  not  possess  such  a  coelom.  In  Eu- 
liolyzoa  (excepting  the  Entoprocta)  the  coelom  'is  very 
capacious  ;  it  is  occupied  by  a  coagulable  hasmolymph  in 
which  float  cellular  corpuscles,  and  also  the  generative 
products,  detached,  as  is  usual  in  Coelomata,  from  definite 
"gonads"  developed  on  its  lining  membrane  (fig.  2,  A,  o,  t). 
This  lining  membrane  or  "  coeloraic  epitlielinm  "  is  ciliated 
iu  the  Phylactotema,  but  its  characters  appear  not  to  have 
been  definitely  determined  in  other  Eupolyzoa.  The 
cceloraic  space  and  the  tissues  bounding  it  are  continuous 
throughout  the  colony  or  zoarium  of  a  Polyzoon — either 
directly  without  any  constriction  marking  off  one  polypide 
from  another,  or  through  perforate  "septum-like  structures 
as  in  Paludiceila  (see  right-hand  upper  process  of  fig.  2,  A), 
which  form  incomplete  barriers  between  juxtaposed  zooecia, 
and  are  termed  "  rosette-plates  "  or  "  communication-plates. " 
The  ccelomic  cavity  is  continued  in  Paludiceila  and  probably 
in  all  Polyzoa  into  the  tentacles,  so  that  these  organs  expose 
the  hsemolymph  fluid  to  a  respiratory  action,  and  hence 
may  be  called  branchial. 

The  body-wall  of  Paludiceila  consists,  alike  in  the 
anterior-  introversible  region  and  in  the  posterior  region,  of 
an  outer  cuticle  which  has  already  been  spoken  of  as 
thickened  around  the  base  of  the  polypide  so  as  to  become 
there  the  hard  tube-like  zooecium.  Beneath  this  is  the 
delicate  layer  of  living  epidermic  cells  which  are  the 
mother-cells  or  matrix  of  that  cuticle.  Beneath  this  again 
are  a  few  scattered  annuli  of  muscular  fibre-cells  arranged 
ring  -  wise  around  the  cylindrical  body  ;  more  deeply 
placed  than  these  are  five  large  bundles  of  longitudinally 
placed  muscular  fibre-cells  which  are  attached  at  three 
different  levels  to  the  soft  introversible  portion  of  the 
body,  and  by  their  retraction  pull  it  in  three  folds  or  tele- 
scopic joints  into  the  capacious  hinder  part  of  the  body. 
In  some  Polyzoa  the  muscular  fibre-cells  present  trans- 
verse  striations.      These  folds   are  shown   in  fig.  2,  A ; 


Flo.  S.— The  locomotive  zoarium  of  the  freshwater  Phylactolfflmous  Polyzoon 
Crtslatellh  mucedo;  magnified  8lx  time^  linear  (after  Allman),  a,  individual 
polypides  with  their  horse-shoe-shaped  ciown  of  tentacles  exserted;  b,  stato- 
blasts  seen  through  the  transparent  tissues;  c,  the  muscular  foot  or  base  of  the 
colony  by  means  of  which  it  crawls;  d,  portion  of  water-weed  upon  which  the 
Cristatella  is  crawling. 

but  when  the  longitudinal  muscles  are  completely  con- 
tracted the  tentacular  crown  would  be  pulled  down  far  out 
of  sight  into  the  midst  of  the  body  by  the  great  longitu- 
dinal muscle  mr.  Deeper  than  the  longitudinal  muscles, 
and  clothing  them  and  everything  else  which  projects  into 
the  coelom,  is  the  coelomic  epithelium,  not  easily  observed, 
and  sufficiently  lino wn  only  in  the  Phylactolaema.  Part  of  it 
gives  rise  to  the  generative  products  (fig.  2  A,  o,  t). 
Other  Eupolyzoa  have  a  similar  but  not  identical  arrange- 
ment of  the  longitudinal  muscles-^acting  essentially  as 
retractors  of  the  "  introvert  "  or  soft  anterior  region  of  the 
body — and  a  similar  structure  of  the  body-wall  which  is  in 


essential  features  identieal  with  that  of  the  Sipunculoid 
worms,  the  ChaetoDod  worms,  and  other  typical  Coelomat6 
animals. 

The  alimentary  canal  of  Paludiceila  forms  a  closely  com* 
pressed  U-shaped  loop  depending  from  the  closely  approxl 
mated  mouth  and  anus  into  the  capacious  coelom'.  It  is 
clothed  on  its  coelomio  surface  (in  Phylactolaema  at  anj 
rate)  with  coslomic  epithelium,  and  beneath  this  o,ri 
extremely  delicate  muscular  layers.  Within  it  is  lined, 
except  in  the  immediate  region  of  the  mouth  (which  h 
lined  by  the  in-pushed  outer  cell-layer),  by  the  enteric  cell 
layer-- the  digestive  cells  derived  from  the  archenteron  of 
the  embryo.  We  can  distinguish  in  Paludiceila  a  contrac 
tile  pharyngo-cesophagus  (fig.  2,  A,  a),  a  digestive  stomach 
V  (the  lining  cells  of  which  have  a  yellow  colour),  and  an 
intestine  which  forms  that  arm  of  the  loop  connected  with 
the  anus.  This  simple  form  of  alimentary  canal  is  uni- 
formly present  in  Polyzoa.  In  Bowerhankia  and  its  allies 
a  muscular  gizzard  with  horny  teeth  is  interposed  between 
oesophagus  and  digestive  stomach.  

The  alimentary  canal  of  Paludiceila  does  not  hang  quite 
freely  in  the  coelomic  cavity,  but,  as  is  usually  the  case  in 
other  classes  where  the  coelom  is  large,  mesenteries  are 
present  in  the  form  of  fibrous  (muscular  1)  bands  clothed 
with  coelomic  epithelitim  and  suspending  the  gut  to  the 
body-wall.  In  Paludiceila  there  are  two  of  these  mesen- 
teries, an  anterior  {x)  and  a  posterior  {x).  The  presence 
of  two  mesenteric  bands  is  exceptional.  Usually  in  th§ 
Eupolyzoa  we  find  one  such  mesentery  only,  corresponding 
to  the  hinder  of  the  two  in  Paludiceila.  The  special  name 
funiculus  (Huxley)  is  applied  to  this  mesenteric  band,  and 
it  is  noteworthy  that  the  cells  of  the  coelomic  epithelitim, 
either  upon  its  surface  or  at  its  point  of  insertion  into  the 
body-wall,  are  modified  as  reproductive  elements,  forming 
either  the  testis  or  ovary;  in  the  Phylactolsma  they  form 
here  also  special  asexual  reproductive  bodies,  the  stato- 
blasts.  The  nervous  tissue  and  organs  of  Paludiceila  have 
not  been  specially  investigated,  but  in  many  Eupolyzoa 
an  oval  mass  of  nerve-ganglion  cells  is  found  lying  between 
the  mouth  and  anus,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  it  is 
present  in  this  case.  In  Plumatella  nerve-fibres  hav4 
been  traced  from  this  ganglion  to  the  tentacles  and  Othei 
parts  around  the  mouth  (fig.  11,  w,  x,  y).  A  "colonial 
nervous  system  "  was  described  some  years  ago  by  Fr. 
Mtiller  in  Serialaria ;  but  modern  histologists  do  not 
admit  that  the  tissue  so  named  by  Miiller  is  nerve-tissue. 
The  ganglion  above  mentioned  is  the  only  nervous  tissue 
at  present  known  in  Polyzoa  (but  see  fig.  17,  a;). 

No  heart  or  blood-vessels  of  any  kind  exist  in .  Paludi- 
ceila nor  in  any  of  the  Eupolyzoa  or  Pterobranchia.  On 
the  other  hand  the  isolated  vermiform  genus  Phoronis 
presents  a  closed  contractile  system  of  longitudinal  vessels 
(dorsal  and  ventral)  which  contain  nucleated  corpuscles 
coloured  red  by  hagmoglobin  (figs.  4,  5). 

No  excretory  orgaus  (nephridia)  or  genital  ducts  have 
been  observed  in  Paludiceila,  nor  have  such  organs  been 
detected  in  the  majority  of  the  Polyzoa  which  have  been 
studied.  In  the  Entoprocta,  however,  a  pair  of  minute 
ciliated  canals  are  found  in  the  nearly  obliterated  body- 
cavity  opening  to  the  exterior  near  the  tentacular  crown  in 
both  Pedicellina  and  Loxosoma,  which  represent  the  cephalic 
nephridia  of  worms.  A  definite  pair  of  nephridia  occur  in 
Phoronis.  A  similar  significance  is  perhaps  to  be  attributed 
to  the  "  intertentacular  organ  "  of  Farre — a  ciliated  pas- 
sage opening'  between .  two  tentacles  of  the  lophophore  in 
Membranipora,  Alcyonidium,  ^  and  other  forms — through 
which  Hincks  has  observed  the  spermatozoa  to  escape  in 
large  numbers.  This  organ  occurs  equally  in  female  speci' 
mens  of  Membranipora,  and  is  not  therefore  simply  a  sper 
I  matic  duct. 


P  0  L  Y  Z  O  A 


433 


Paludicella,  as  we  have  seen,  develops  both  ova  and 
spermatozoa  jn  one  and  the  same  polypide.  The  details 
of  impregnation  and  development  have  not  been  followed 
in  this  instance,  but  in  some  of  the  marine  Eupolyzoa 
(Gymnolaama)  remarkable  bud-like  structures  termed  ooecia 
are  developed  for  the  special  reception  of  the  ova,  and  in 
these  organs  fertilization  takes  place.  In  the  Entoprocta 
there  is  a  peculiar  brood-pouch.  The  spermatozoa  of  one 
polypide  probably  in  all  cases  fertilize  the  ova  of  another, 
but  we  have  not  yet  in  many  cases  a  knowledge  of  how 
the  spermatozoa  get  to  the  eggs,  or  how  the  eggs  escape 
from  the  body-cavity  of  the  parent  In  the  hippocrepian 
freshwater  Polyzoa  (Phylactotema)  the  ova  appear  to  be 
fertilized  and  undergo  the  early  stages  of  development 
within  the  body-cavity  of  the  parent  or  in  a  hernia-like 
protrusion  of  it.  Probably  in  such  cases  the  embryos 
«scape  by  the  death  of  tlie  parent  and  rupture  of  the 
parental  tissues,  as  do  also  the  peculiar  asexual  internal 
buds  or  statoblasts  of  these  forms. 

The  embryo  Polyzoon  or  "  larva "  swims  freely  in  its 
early  condition  by  means  of  cilia,  and  is  in  this  condition 
a  single  polypide  or  "person."  The  forms  assumed  by 
these  ciliated  larvae  in  different  Polyzoa  are  very  various 
and  exceedingly  difficult  of  interpretation.  We  shall  have 
more  to  say  with  regard  to  them  below  (see  figs.  1 9,  20, 
"21).  The  ciliated  larva  then  fixes  itself  and  commences 
to  produce  polypides  by  a  process  of  budding,  the  buds 
remaining  not  merely  in  contact  but  in  organic  continuity, 
and  increasing  continually  in  number  so  as  to  form  a  large 
colony  or  zoarium.  In  Paludicella  we  have  seen  that  this 
colony  has  a  simple  tree-like  form.  The  new  buds  form 
as  watt-like  growths,  usually  one,  sometimes  two  in  number, 
at  the  free  end  of  a  cell  or  zooecium  near  the  spout-like 
process  from  which  the  tentacular  crown  is  everted.  In 
Paludicella  all  the  polypides  of  a  colony  arc  alike ;  there 
is  no  differentiation  of  form  or  distribution  of  function 
amongst  the  members  of  the  colony.  In  many  Eupolyzoa 
this  simplicity  is  by  no  means  maintained,  but  a  great 
variety  of  form  and  function  is  assumed  by  various 
members  of  the  aggregate.  The  only  approach  to  a 
differentiation  of  the  polypides  in  Paludicella  is  in  the 
arrest  of  growth  of  some  of  the  buds  of  a  colony  in 
autumn,  which,  instead  of  advancing  to  maturity,  become 
conical  and  invested  with  a  dark-coloured  cuticle.  They 
are  termed  hyhcrnacula.  Should  the  rest  of  the  poly- 
pides die  down  in  winter,  these  arrested  buds  .survive 
and  g3  on  to  complete  development  on  the  return  of 
spring. 

In  Paludicella  we  have  thus  seen  a  fairly  simjilc  and 
central  example  of  Polyzoon  structure  and  life-history. 
The  variations  upon  this  theme  presented  in  different 
groups  of  Polyzoa  have  been  to  some  small  extent  noted 
in  the  preceding  account,  but  we  shall  now  be  able  to 
indicate  them  more  precisely  by  considering  the  various 
groups  of  Po'.yzoa  in  succession.  The  limit  assigned  to 
this  article  necessitates  very  large  omissions.  The  reader 
who  wishes  to  have  the  fullest  information  on  the  many 
difficult  and  uncertain  matters  connected  with  this  subject 
is  referred  to  AUman,  Frex/iwaler  Po/i/:oa  (Hay  Society, 
18.56);  Hincks,  British  Marine  Pohjzod  (Van  Vcorst, 
1880);  Haddon,  "  Hudding  in  Polyzoa,"  Qwirt.  Joni-n. 
Micr.  ScL,  1883  ;  Balfour,  EmhryolcMjij,  vol.  i.  p.  21 2  ;  and 
the  original  memoirs  cited  by  these  writens. 

THE  VERMIFORMIA. 

The  first  section  of  the  Polyzoa  comprises  but  a  single 
genus,  Phoronis.  It  differs  from  all  other  Polyzoa  first 
in  its  greater  size  (species  2  inches  long  are  known) 
and  elaboration  of  organization,  and  correlatively  with 
that  in  tho  fact  that  it  does  not  produce  buds.     Further, 

11)-17 


=5r?>* 


it  does  not  produce  a  closely  adherent  cuticular  zooecium 
as  do  Paludicella  and  the  Eupolyzoa  generally,  but  a 
leathery     tube     in 

which    the    animal  ft   k  4% 

freely  moves,  resem- 
bling that  of  some 
"Ghsetopods  (Sabcl- 
la).  Like  some 
Sabellaj,  Phoronis 
forms  closely  packed 
aggregates  of  indi- 
viduals not  brought 
together  by  any 
process  of  budding, 
but  each  separately 
developed  from  an 
egg.  Phoronis  has 
an  elongate,  worm- 
like, unsegmented 
body,  with  a  conical 
posterior  termina- 
tion (like  Sipuncu- 
lus),  and  anteriorly 
provided  with  a 
horse  -  shoe  -  shaped 
crown  of  tentacles 
surrounding  the 
mouth  (figs.  4,  5). 
There  is  an  inter- 
tentacular  "  web  " 
between  the  bases 
of  the  tentacles  as 
in  the  Phylactolse- 
ma.  Caldwell  (6) 
has  recently  shown 
that  the  tentacles 
are  supported  by  a 
mesoblastic 
ton,  as  is  also  the 
case  in  Rhabdo- 
plcura,  but  appar- 
ently not  the  case 
in  any  other  Polyzoa.  Close  to  the  mouth,  as  in  all 
Polyzoa,  is  placed  the  anus,  outside  the  liorse-shoe-shaped 
lophophore  or  tenta- 
cular platform  (fig. 
11,  i).  The  tenta- 
cular crown  is  not 
introvcrsiblc  ;  in  this 
point  Phoronis  differs 
from  Paludicella  and 
the  Ectoproctous  Eu- 
polyzoa, and  agrees  a 
with  tho  Entoprocta 
and  the  Pterobranchia. 
Overhanging  the 

mouth  is  a  small  prai- 
oral  lobe  or  "  epi- 
stomo  "  (figs.  4,  5,  c). 
Thi.s  organ  is  aborted 
in  Paludicella,  and  in- 
deed in  all  tho  Uyni- 
nohcma,  but  is  jiresent 

in  the  other  Polyzoa,  ....        .    ,         ,       , 

,  .  •   11     1  Fifl.  C— LotcMl  viewer  llic  anicrloi-  ivtlon  of 

and  IS  especially  largo  i.|,„ronl».  Tlii!  Icnlado  of  tliu  riBht  «rm  of  the 
niifl  wpH  ilcvrlniicd  In  Ini.hoplioie  niccunhortlnonlci  locxposcclcaily 
,1  ,  r  "^^"-"-'l"-"  '"  ,1,1,  „n,uii,  b  »,„i  ilii-  ovcrli.nKlnn  ••  iplslonio " 
J{habdopleuraanU  Ce-    or  vraoiol  lobe  <•.    <•,  liucsllin;;  a.  Uoisnl  vcmlI. 

phalodiscus.      It  has  oiuc.- icticr. .» m  ng.  <. 

been  comjiarcd  to  the  Jlolluscan  foot,  but  undoubtedly  in 

Phoronis  it  is  the  persistent  representative  of  the  prje-oral 


gl.p]p_K;o.  i.— Phoronis  fiippoerepia,  Wright;  ma^lfled 
six  Ilmt'S  linear  (h-om  AUman).  a,  Iiorse-shoe- 
Bliapcd  l"i»hnphnie  \iltli  tentacles;  f,  cpiatome 
(pra^-oral  lube  or  prostoniiiini);  </,  oesophagus;  /, 
ventral  vessel;  g,  g,  two  anteiior  vessels  whlcli 
unite  to  foiTn  /;  i',  longitudinal  muscular  coat 
of  the  body-wall;  k,  Intcrtentaculur  membrane. 


434 


F  O  L  Y  Z  0  A 


Ibbe  of  the  larva  (fig.  6),  and  therefore  cannot  be  compared 
to  the  Jlolluscan  foot.  If  we  are  right  in  associating 
Phorouis  with  the  Polyzoa,  this  fact  is  sufficier^t  to  show 
that  the  epistome  of  the  Phylactolsema  (iig.  11,  e)  and  the 
buccal  .shield  of  Rhabdopleura  (fig.  7,  d)  and  of  Cephalodis- 
cus  (fig.  9,  b)  are  also  cephalic  in  nature,  and  cannot  rightly 
be  identified  with  the  post-oral  and  ventral  muscular  lobe 
known  as  the  foot  in  ISIollusca.  A  circuni-oral  nerve  ring 
occurs  at  the  base  of  the  tentacles  and  sends  off  a  cord 
which,  runs  along  the  left  side  of  the  body.  The  alimen- 
tary canal  presents  the  same  general  form  and  regions  as 
in  Paludicella.  It  hangs  in  the  body-cavity,  to  the  walls 
cf  which  it  is  suspended  by  definite  mesenteries. 

Phoronis  presents  a  closed  contractile  vascular  system 
containing  red-coloured  blood-corpuscles  (figs.  4,  5,  /,  ci, 
li).  A  pair  of  ciliated  canals  acting  as  genital  pores  is 
found  near  the  anus  ;  these  have  been  shown  by  Caldwell 
to  be  typical  nephridia. 

The  development  of  Phoronis  is  remarkable.  The  egg 
gives  rise  (after  the  usual  phases  of  cleavage  and  gastrula- 
tion)  to  the  larval  form  known  as  Adinotrocha  (fig. 
6).     This  larva  possesses  a  hood-like  region  overhanging 

A  jV 


a'  I  B 

Fio.  6. — Development  of  Phoronis  antl  tj^Jt^'al  dilate  larrre,  (I),  (2),  (3),  (6). 
(9),  (10),  stages  in  the  development  of  Phoronis — (1),  railiest  larva;  (2),  lateral 
view  of  the  Actlnotrocha ;  (3),  ventral  view  of  the  same;  (8),  the  ventral  in- 
vagination ir  is  foiined;  (9),  the  ventral  invagination  is  everted,  carrying  with 
It  a  loop  of  intestine;  (10),  the  permanent  relations  of  mouth,  anus,  and  hody 
(Pndaxoriia)  are  attained.  (4).  {■>),  Echinuderm  larva  with  architroch,  as  in 
Actlnotrocha,  but  band-like,  not  digitate.  ,'o).  EL-liinodeim  larva,  with  the 
arcliitroi  li  divided  into  apra-oral  cephalotroch  (Molluscan  and  Rotifer's  velum), 
and  a  post-oral  bi;iiichiotioch.  (7),  Clia^topnd  trochospherc  larva  with  cephalo- 
troch only,  and  jelongiition  and  segmentation  of  the  oro-anal  axis,  a,  anus;  o, 
mouth;  fii\  piostomiuni ;  iv,  vcntial  invagination  of  Phoronis  larva.  A  B,  oro- 
anal  axis;  V  D,  dorso-veutral  axis.  . 

tlie  mouth  and  a  number  of  ciliated  post-oral  processes 
or  tentacles.  The  anus  is  placed  at  the  extremity  of  the 
elongate   body  opposite  to  that    bearing  the  mouth  and 


prse-oral  hood.  The  pra;-oral  hood  becomes  the  epistome, 
and  the  tentacles,  by  further  development  (new  tentacles 
replacing  the  larval  ones),  become  the  horse-shoe-shaped 
group  of  tentacles  of  the  adult.  A  very  curious  process 
of  growth  changes  the  long  axis  of  the  body  and  results 
in  the  anus  assuming  its  permanent  position  near  the 
mouth.  An  invagination  appears  on  the  ventral  face  of 
the  larva  between  the  anus  and  mouth,  and  attains  con- 
siderable size.  At  a  definite  moment  in  the  course  of 
growth  thifi  invagination  is  suddenly  everted,  carrying 
with  it  in  its  cavity  the  intestine  in  the  form  of  a  loop. 
Thus  a  new  long  axis  is  suddenly  established  at  right 
angles  to  the  original  oro-anal  axis,  and  continues  to  de- 
velop as  the  main  portion  of  the  body.  The  short  area 
extending  from  the  pr;e-oral  hood  to  the  anus  is  thus  the 
true  dorsal  surface  of  Phoronis,  whilst  the  elongated  body 
is  an  outgrowth  of  the  ventral  surface  perpendicular  to 
the  primary  oro-anal  axis,  as  conversely  in  many  Jlollusca 
we  find  a  short  ventral  area  (the  foot)  between  mouth  and 
anus,  and  an  outgrowth  of  the  dorsal  surface  (the  visceral 
hump)  perpendicular  to  the  primary  oro-anal  axis,  forming 
the  chief  body  of  the  animal.  In  these  relations  Phoronis 
(and  with  it  the  ether  Polyzoa)  agrees  with  Sipunculus. 
On  the  other  hand  Echiurus,  the  Cha^topods,  Nemertine 
worms,  and  some  other  groups  which  start  from  a  simple 
larval  form  not  unlike  that  of  Phoronis,  present  a  continual 
elongation  of  the  original  oro-anal  axis,  and  no  transference 
of  the  long  axis  by  the  perpendicular  or  angular  growth  of 
either  the  ventral  or  the  dorsal  surface  of  the  larva. 

Phoronis  was  discovered  originally  in  the  Firth  of  Forth 
by  Dr  Strethill  Wright.  It  occurs  in  the  Mediterranean 
and  in  Australian  seas  (Port  Jackson). 

THE  PTEROBRANCHIA. 

This  section  of  the  Polyzoa  also  comprises  forms  which 
differ  very  widely  from  Paludicella.  Inasmuch  as  their 
development  from  the  egg  is  at  present  quite  unknown, 
it  may  possibly  prove  that  they  have  other  affinities. 
Only  two  genera  are  known,  Rhabdopleura  (Allman)  and 
Cephalodiscus  (M'Intosh),  the  former  dredged  by  Dr 
Norman  in  deep  water  off  the  Shetlands  (and  subse- 
quently in  Norway),  the  latter  taken  by  the  "  Challenger" 
expedition  in  250  fathoms  off  the  coast  of  Patagonia. 

The  Pterobranchia  have  the  mouth  and  anus  closely 
approximated,  and  immediately  below  the  mouth  arc  given 
off  a  series  of  ciliated  tentacles,  but  these  do  not  form  a 
complete  circle  as  in  Paludicella,  nor  is  the  lophophore  (the 
platform  of  their  origin)  horse-shoe-shaped  as  in  Phoronis. 
The  lophophore  is  drawn  out  into  a  right  and  a  left  arm  in 
Rhabdopleura  (fig.  7),  upon  each  of  which  are  two  rows 
of  ciliated  tentacles ;  no  tentacles  are  developed  centrally 
in  the  region  between  the  two  arms,  so  that  the  mouth  is 
not  completely  surrounded  by  these  processes.  The  horse- 
shoe-shaped lophophore  of  Phorouis  could  be  modified  so  as 
to  represent  the  tentaculiferous  arms  of  Rhabdopleura  by 
suppressing  both  rows  of  tentacles  at  the  curve  of  the 
horse-shoe,  and  leaving  only  those  which  occur  on  the 
arms  or  rami  of  the  horse  shoe  (see  fig.  4).  The  lopho- 
phore of  Cephalodiscus  presents  us  with  twelve  processes, 
each  carrying  two  rows  of  ciliated  tentacles ;  in  fact  wc 
have  six  pairs  of  tantaculiferous  arms  instead  of  a  single 
pair,  and  each  of  these  arms  is  precisely  similar  to  one 
of  the  arms  of  Rhabdopleura  (fig.  9),  excepting  that  it 
terminates  in  a  knob  instead  of  tapering.  Tkere  is  no 
arrangement  for  introverting  the  anttirior  portion  of  the 
body  into  the  hinder  portion  in  the  Pterobranchia. 

The  little  epistome  or  pra;-oral  lobe  of  Phoronis  is  repre- 
sented in  the  Pterobranchia  by  a  large  muscular  shield  or 
'disk-like  structure  (fig.  7,  d  and  fig.  9,  b)  which  over- 
hangs the  mouth  and  has  an  actively  secreting  glandular 


P  O  L  Y  Z  0  A 


435 


surface  by  wliich  the  tube  or  case  (tubarium)  in  which  the 
polypide  is  enclosed  is  secreted. 

Botli  Kliabdoplcura  and  Cephalodiscus  produce  colonies 
\>y  budding;  but  the  colonics  of  the  former  arc  large, 
definite,  and  arborescent,  whilst  those  of  Ccplialodiscus 
are  remarkable  for  the  fact  that  the  buds  do  not  remain 
long  in  organic  continuity  with  their  parent,  but  become 
detached  and  nevertheless  continue  to  be  enclosed  by  the 
same  common  envelope  or  secretion.  The  bud-formation 
of  rJiabdopleura  recalls  that  of  Paludicella  in  the  fact  that 
it  leads  to  the  formation  of  continuous  arboriform  com- 
munities. That  of  Cephalodiscus  resembles  the  budding 
of  Loxosoma,  since  no  two  fully-formed  individuals  remain 


fio.  ' .~Ilhah<!<'pWiira  Norinani,  AUman  (orlglnftl  drawlnct,  Lankcstcr).  A. 
A  sitiRlo  jiolypitic  removed  from  Its  tube  and  greatly  ma(;nilled,  o,  mouth;  b, 
onus  :  f.  prtlypldc-Rtalk  or  cymnocaulus,  tlie  "oontraetilc  cord"  of  Sftrs  ;  rf,  the 
prie-oral  Inlii;  (buccrti  sliield  or  disk  of  Allman);  e,  intestine;  /,  thoracic 
reBicM  of  tlio  polyplOc;  g.  one  of  the  ciliated  tcntacJes.  B.  Lateral  view  to 
Bhow  the  form  of  the  buccal  shield  and  lt»  pigment  spot.  (/,  clltnted  tcntacio 
(In  outline):  A,  biisal  ri'Ige  of  thorl^ht  arm  of  the  lopliophorc.  C.  Lntcral  view 
jf  a  polypldc.  f,  clllrtted  natch  (Sars's  orpan)  at  I  he  base  of  the  lopliophorc-arm. 
Other  letlcrs  its  above,  D.  Part  of  a  lophophorc-arm.  with  soft  tissues  rubbed 
off  to  allow  the  cnrtllaginold  skeleton,  a,  epithelium  and  soft  tissues  Blill 
adherent  at  tiie  tip  of  a  fentaelc;  6,  skeleton  of  tentacle;  c,  skeleton  of  axis. 
E.  i'ortlon  of  a  colony  of  lihabdopUura  Sormani,  sliowing  the  brunclied  tube- 
like  cases  formed  by  Hie  poiypldcs.  The  black  line  within  the  tubes  represents 
the  retracted  poiypldcs  connected  together  by  their  common  stalk,  the  pccto- 
caulus.    Mugnilicd  to  three  limes  the  size  of  nature. 

in  organic  continuity.  Both  Rhabdopleura  and  Cephalo- 
discus (like 'Phoronis)  produce  cases  or  investments  in 
which  they  dwell.  These  are  free  secretions  of  »,he  organ- 
ism, and  are  not,  like  the  ccenoecia  of  Eupolyzoa,  cuticular 
structui-es  adherent, to  and  part  of  the  polypide's  integu- 
ment. The,  dwelling  of  '  Rhal)dopleura  is  ,a  branched 
system  of  annulated  tubes  of  a  delicate  membranous  con- 
sistency, each  tube  corresponding  to  a  single  polypide,  the 
rings  of  which  it  is  -built  being  successively  produced  at 
the  termination  of  the  tube  by  the  secreting  activity  of  the 
pra;-oral  disk  (fig.  7,  E).  The  polypides  freely  ascend  and 
descend  in  these  tubes  ow-ing  to  the  contractility  of  their 
stalks.     On  the  other  hand  the  dwelling  of  Ccphalcdiscua 


km 


is  a  gelatinous,  irregularly  branched,  and  fimbriated  mass 
(fig.  8),  ex'cavatcd  by  numerous  cavities  which  communicate 
with  the  e.xtcrior.  In  these 
cavities  arc  found  the  nu- 
merous detiirltcd  small 
colonies  of  Cephalodiscus 
(fig.  9), or  we  should  rather 
say  the  isolated  budding 
polypides.  The  remaining 
important  feature  in  the 
organization  of  the  Ptero- 
branchia,  namely,  the  parts 
connected  with  the  forma- 
tion of  buds,  are  best  un- 
derstood by  first  examining 
Cephalodiscus.  The  body 
of  Cephalodiscus  is  seen 
(fig.  9)  to  be  an  oval  sac ; 
in  this  is  suspended  the 
U-shaped  alimentary  canal, 
and  from  the  walls  of  its 
cavity  (ccelom)  the  ova  and 
the  spermatozoa  are  de- 
veloped. Projecting  from 
the  ventral  face  of  this 
oval  sac  is  a  muscular  cy- 
lindrical stalk,  into  which 
the  viscera  do  not  pass, 
though  the  coelom  is  con- 
tinued into  it  (fig.  9,  c). 
This  stalk  is  merely  the 
outdiawn  termination  of 
the  body. 

long  as  the  whole  of  the 
rest  of  the  animal,  and  it 
is  from  its  e.xtremity  that 
the  buds  are  produced  (fig. 
9,  a).  Before  the  buds  have  attained  half  the  size  of  their 
parent  they  become  detached,  but  continue  to  occupy  some 
portion  of  the  common  gelatinous  dwelling. 


Tf  i«  aK'^nf-  fiQ  Flo.  8. — Dwelling  of  gelatinous  consistence 
J. I,  IS  dujuu  aa  -    ^^^j  ^j^^^n  colonrformed  by  the  polypides 

3f  Cephalodiscus  dcdtralophun,  M'lntosh; 

natural  sizo  (from  an   original  drawing 

ilndly  supplied  by  Prof.  Mlntosh,  F.R.S.). 

>,  polypide  within  the  jelly  ;  ;>,  cavity  once 

xcupled  by  polypides. 


■■■iiiife 


F»G.  9.— A  polypide  of  Cfphahdiicut  dotfeeaiophui  removed  from  the  (;clailnou» 
Iioiiao(from  un  oilgliml  drawing  hy  Piof.  M'Inrci>h).  No  orRiinlc  connexion 
huH  been  euvcrcd  In  thus  IsolnihiK  tliin  polypldu  with  ils  nttuchcd  budii  a,  a. 
Tho  fiRuro  icprcBcnts  thu  furthest  polnl  lo  which  colony  formation  attains  Iti 
thW  form,  a,  buds  RiowInK  fiom  the  basi  of  the  pnlypldc-atnlk  ;  b,  tho  pric- 
oral  lobe  (buccnl  Bhlcld  oV  disk);  e,  Ihe  polypldo-atnik;  d,  the  ciliated  tentacles 
of  the  twflvo  lophnphoro  orms  (six  pnlis,  cnch  like  the  ^\\^^\G  patrol  nh«b- 
doplcurn)  Inextricably  mntted  and  confused;  e,  ontcrlor  minRln  of  the  rra*- 
oral  lobe  ;  f,  posterior  murKin  of  the  »nie.    Macnlflcd  about  fifty  lUnca  tlnoar 

Turning  to  Rhabdojileura,  vo  find  that  cacb  polypide 
has  a  body  of  similar  shape  and  character  to  that  described 
for  Cephalodiscus,  and  a  similar  •  ventrally  .'develgped 
'*  stalk  "  (fig.  7,  A,  c).     Rut,  inasmuch  as  the  buds  cleve- 


438 


P  0  L  Y  Z  0  A 


loped  on  the  stalk  of  a  Rhabdopleura  polypide  do  not 
detach  themselves,  we  find  that  we  can  trace  the  stalk  of 
each  polypide  of  a  colony  into  connexion  with  the  stalk  of 
the  polypide  from  which  it  was  originally  budded,  which 
may  now  be  considered  as  a  "  branch "  bearing  many- 
stalked  polypides  upon  its  greatly  extended  length,  and 
such  a  "  branch-stalk  "  may  be  further  traced  to  its  junc- 
tion with  the  "  stem-stalk  "  of  the  whole  colony.  The 
stem-stalk  was  at  one  time  the  simple  terminal  stalk  of  a 
single  polypide,  but  by  lateral  budding  it  gave  rise  to 
other  polypides,  and  so  became  a  gemmiferous  "branch"; 
and  further,  when  some  of  these  in  their  turn  budded  and 
became  branches,  it  became  the  main  "stem"  of  a  copious 
colony. 

A  serious  error  has  been  made  in  comparing  the  contrac- 
tile stalk  of  the  Pterobranchiate  polypide  to  the  "funi- 
culus "  or  cord-like  mesentery  of  Eupo- 
lyzoa.  With  this  it  has  morphologi- 
cally nothing  in  common,  since  it  is 
not  an  internal  organ,  but  simply  the 
elongated  termination  or  stalk  of  the 
body,  comparable  to  the  stalk  of  Pedi- 
cellina  (fig.  15)  and  Loxosoma  (fig.  16), 
or  to  the  hydrocaulus  of  such  a  Hydro- 
zoon  colony  as  Cordylophora.  The 
stalk  where  it  bears  only  very  young 
buds,  or  none  at  all,  as  is  always  its 
condition  in  Cephalodiscus  and  in  many 
polypides  of  a  Rhabdopleura  colony, 
may  be  called  a  "gymnocaulus";  when 
once  its  buds  have  devel- 
oped into  full  grown  poly- 
pides, and  it  has  elongated 
proportionally  with  their 
growth,  it  becomes  a  "  pec 
tocaulus";  that  is  to  say,  it 
is  to  that  part  of  it  which 
bears  such  polypides  that 
this  term  may  be  conveni- 
ently applied.  The  pecto- 
caulus  of  Rhabdopleura,  both  in  the  form  of  branch  and 
stem,  undergoes  remarkable  change  of  appearance  as  com- 
pared with  the  gymnocaulus.  It  loses  its  contractility, 
shrinks,  and  develops  on  its  surface  a  hard,  dark,  horny 
cuticle  (whence  its  name),  comparable  precisely  in  its  nature 
to  the  hardened  cuticle  which  forms  the  zo«cra  of  Eupo- 
lyzoa.  It  now  has  the  appearance  of  a  black  cord  or 
rod-like  body  lying  within  and  adherent  to  the  inner  face 
of  the  much  wider  tubular  stem,  and  branches  formed  by 
the  gradual  building  up  and  arborescent  extension  of  the 
annulated  tubariura  secreted  by  the  individual  polypides. 
It  has  been  regarded  both  by  Allraan  and  by  Sars  as  a 
special  structure,  and  called  by  the  former  "  the  chitinous 
rod"  or  " blastophore,"  by  the  latter  "the  axial  cord." 

In  reality  it  is  the  black-coloured  pectooaulus  of 
Rhabdopleura  which  corresponds  to  the  coenoeciura  of  an 
ordinary  Polyzoon ;  whilst  the  term  " ccenfficium"  is 
totally  inapplicable  morphologically  to  the  annulated 
branched  tube  in  which  the  Rhabdopleura  colony  lives, 
this  having  absolutely  no  parallel  in  the  Eupolj'zoa. 

A  sac-like  testis  has  been  discovered  in  Rhabdopleura 
opening  by  the  side  of  the  anus  (Lankester,  7) ;  but  the 
ova  have  not  yet  been  seen,  nor  is  anything  known  of  its 
development.  Similarly  the  eggs  of  Cephalodiscus  are 
observed  within  the  body  of  the  parent  in  the  "  Chal- 
lenger" specimens,  but  nothing  further  is  known  of  its 
life-history. 

A  body-cavity  is  present  (Lankester),  though  its  exist- 
ence has  been  denied  by  Sars  and  by  M'Intosh.  Neph- 
tidia  and  nerve  ganglia  are  not  described.     Cephaloditicus 


Fio.  10.— A  polypide  of  Cephalodiirus  do- 
dt^calophtiSj  from  which  the  lopliophoie- 
lentacles  .tnd  buccal  shield  have  been 
removed  in  order  to  show  the  remarlt- 
able  eyes,  a,  buJs;  c,  stalls;  j7,  eyes; 
h,  post-oral  cnllar,  hi-iden  by  the  buccal 
shield  ih  fig.  9.  (Oriynal  drawing  by 
Prof.  M'liilosh  F.R.S.) 


has  two  remarkable  eye  spots  dorsal  to  the  cephalic  disk 
(fig.  10,  ff). 

THE  EUPOLYZOA. 

Whilst  it  is  necessary  to  include  in  the  group  Polyzoa 
the  forms  we  have  already  noticed  as  Vermiformia  and 
Pterobranchia,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  those  organisms 
to  which  we  assign  the  name  Eupolyzoa  are  primarily 
those  upon  which  naturalists  have  framed  their  concep- 
tion of  the  group,  and  that  they  constitute  a  very  con- 
sistent assemblage,  held  together  by  v.-ell-defined  characters, 
and  yet  presenting  an  immense  number  of  varied  forms 
showing  a  wide  range  of  modifications. 

All  the  Eupolyzoa  have  closely  approximated  mouth 
and  anus,  and,  like  Paludicella,  a  complete  range  of  hollow 
ciliate  tentacles,  describing  either  a  circle  or  a  horse  shoe, 
surrounding  the  mouth.  The  anus  as  well  as  the  mouth 
is  included  in  this  area  ia  a  few  exceptional  forms  (the 
Entoprocta) ;  it  lies  near  but  outside  the  lophophore  (as  the 
area  is  termed)  in  the  vast  majority  (the  Ectoprocta). 
Except  in  the  Entoprocta,  where  the  movement  is  limited, 
the  whole  anterior  portion  of  the  body  bearing  the 
lophophore  can  be  invaginated  into  the  hinder  part  (as 
described  above  for  the  typical  Eupolyzoon  Paludicella). 
This  character  distinguishes  the  Eupolyzoa  from  both 
Vermiformia  and  Pterobranchia.  The  polypides  of  all  the 
Eupolyzoa  are  minute,  but  all  produce  buds  which  remain 
in  organic  continuity  with  their  parent  (except  in  Loxo- 
soma) and  build  up  very  considerable  and  sometimes 
massive  colonies. 

In  all  Eupolyzoa  the  ciiticle  of  the  hinder  part  of  each 
polypide  is  thick  and  dense,  thus  forming  a  hard-walled 
sac,  the  zooecium.  This  is  peculiar  to  and  universal  in 
the  Eupolyzoa  (except  Loxosoma), .  and  is  not  to  be 
confounded  with  the  non-adherent  tubes  of  Phoronis  and 
Rhabdopleura  or  the  jelly-house  of  Cephalodiscus.  The 
connected  zocecia  of  a  colony  of  Eupolyzoa  constitute  a 
ccenoecium.  A  simple  nerve  ganglion  between  mouth  and 
anus,  a  large  body-cavity  (except  in  Entoprocta),  simple 
gonads  without  accessory  glands  or  ducts,  usually  testis 
and  ovary  in  the  same  polypide,  absence  of  a,  blood- vascular 
system,  of  any  but  the  most  rudimentary  nephridia,  aod 
of  eyes,  otocysts,  or  other  special  sense-organs,  are  features 
characterizing  all  adult  Eupolyzoa. 

The  section  Eupolyzoa,  writh  its  vast  number  of  species 
and  genera,  requires  a  somewhat  elaborate  classification. 
The  forms  in  which  the  anus  is  enclosed  within  the 
tentacular  circle  are  very  few,  and  are  peculiar  in  other 
respects.  We  follow  Nitsche  (8)  in  separating  them  as 
the  sub-class  Entoprocta  from  the  majority  of  Eupolyzoa 
forming  the  sub-class  Ectoprocta. 

Sub-class  1.  Ectoprocta,  Nitsche. 

Eupolyzoa  ■with  the  anus  not  included  within  the  area 
of  the  lophophore.  Anterior  portion  of  the  body  of  the 
normal  polypide  introversible.  .Tentacles  not  individually 
capable  of  being  coiled  or  flexed. 

Order  1.  Phylactol.ema,  Allman. 
Eotoproctous  Eupolyzoa  in  which  the  polj'pide  possesses 
a  prte-oral  lobe  or  epislome,  similar  to  that  of  Phoronis, 
and  comparable  to  the  more  highly  developed  -buccal 
shield  or  disk  of  the  Pterobranchia.  Lophophore  (except  in 
Fredericella,  where  it  is  nearly  circular)  horse-shoe-shaped 
(hippocrepian).  Polypides  of  a  colony  equi-formal,  that  is, 
not  differentiated  in  structure  and  function.  Neighbouring 
zocecia  are  in  free  and  open  communication,  the  bud  never 
becoming  shut  off  by  a  perforated  cuticular  plate  from  its 
parent.  Cuticle  of  the  zooecia  either  gelatinous  or  horny, 
forming  massive  or  else  arborescent  coancecia,  in  one  genua 


P  0  L  Y  Z  0  A 


437 


(Cristatella)  having  the  form  of  a  plano-convex  ellipse  and 
loconiotive  (%.  3).  In  addition  to  the  multiplication 
of  polypides  in  a  colony  by  budding,  and  to  the  annual 
production  of  new  individuals  from  fertilizad  eggs  which 
initiate  new  colonies,  a  reproduction  by  internal  buds 
called  "statoblasts,"  comparable  to  the  gemmaj  of  Spon- 
gilla,  has  been  observed  in  all  the  genera  (fig.  3,  6).  The 
statoblasts  are  developed  from  the  funiculus  (mesentery), 
and  are  enclosed  in  ornate  lenticular  capsules  of  chitinous 
substance,  characteristic  in  form  in  each  species. 

The  fertilized  egg  of  the  Phylactolama  does  not  give 
rise  to  a  zonociliate  larva,  but  to  a  uniformly  ciliate  cyst- 
like  diblastula,  which  develops  directly  and  produces 
polypides  by  budding.  The  Phylactolajma  are  ay  inhabit- 
ants of  fresh  water  (lacustrine). 


Fio.  11.— Seml-ldcal  view  of  pait  of  the  lophnphore  of  Lophopus  and  Its  tentacles, 
— Inte.ided  to  sho^v  the  nerve-KflngUon,  nerves,  and  parts  around  the  mouth. 
The  tentacles  have  been  cut  away  all  along  the  right  arm  of  the  lophophore  and 
from  the  Inner  margin  of  the  left  arm.  c,  foramen  >placin;;  the  cavity,  of  ttie 
cplstonie  in  communication  with  the  body-cavity  ;  c',  body-wall ;  rf,  mouth  ;  c, 
the  eplstome  or  prae-oral  lobe ;  /,  wall  of  the  pharynx  ;  A,  wall  of  the  Intestine ; 
<,  anus;  *,  lophophore;  I,  a  ciliated  tentacle  ;  r,  elevator  muscle  of  the  eijlstonic; 
If.  the  nerve-ganglion;  x,  x',  nerves  to  lophophoi'e  and  tentacles:  j/,  nerve  to 
pharynx. 

The  Phylactolsema  in,-lud(!  the  genera  Lopliopus,  Cristatella, 
Alcyonella,  Plumatella,  and  Fiedericella,  which  have  becu  beauti- 
fully liguredaud  deseribcd  in  Allmau's  classical  Freshivalcr  Pohjzoa, 
Ray  Society,  1856.  The  colonies  of  Lophopus  are  small,  consist- 
ing of  half  a  dozen  polypides  embedded  in  a  massive  glass-like 
cceiiaxium.  Ciistatella  (fig.  3)  is  remarkable  amongst  all  I'olyzoa 
for  its  locomotive  zoarium.  Alcyonella  forms  massive  coinoecia  of 
many  hundred  polypides,  as  large  as  a  man's  fist.  I'luniatella  and 
Frcderioclla  are  deiicato  arboi-Lscent  forms  commonly  encrusting 
Btoiios  and  tho  leaves  of  water-plants.  All  the  genera  known  are 
British. 

The  Pliylactolsema  furnish  a  rcmavkobla  instance  of  a  uell- 
niarkcj  zoological  group  being  confined  to  fresh  water.  Their 
icproduclion  by  statoblasts  (not  known  in  the  tnarine  Pnlyzoa) 
appeals  to  bo  related  to  the  special  conditions  of  lacustrine  life, 
since  it  is  also  observed  under  the  same  exceptional  conditions  in 
the  liiiigle  freshvvatcr  genus  of  another  great  group  of  animals,  viz., 
SpoDgilla.  Also'  related  to  their  non-marine  conditions  of  life  is 
the  development  of  the  fertilized  egg,  which,  as  in  so  many  similar 
cases,  does  not  produce  the  remarkable  banded  forms  of  locomotive 
larva;  which  arc  characteristic  of  their  marine  congeners. 

Order  2.  Gymnol^ma,  Allman. 

Ectoproctous  Eupolyzoa  in  which  the  polj-pido  is  devoid 
of  any  trace  of  the  pric-oral  (otid  or  epistome,   whilit  the 


lophophore  is  perfectly  circular.  The  polypides  of  a  colony 
are  frequently  highly  differentiated  as  avicularia,  vibracu- 
laria,  oo2cia  (egg-receptacles),  and  even  as  root  and  stem 
segments.  The  neighbouring  polypides  of  a  colony 
communicate  (?)  with  one  another  by  "  rosette-plates  "  or 
"  communication-plates  " — perforated  areas  in  the  walls  of 
contiguous  zocccia.  The  greatest  variety  in  the  character 
of  the  cuticle  forming  the  zotecia  (gelatinous,  horny, 
calcareous)  and  in  the  grouping  of  the  polypides,  as  well  as 
in  the  shape  of  their  zooecia,  is  observed  in  different 
sub-orders  and  families.  In  addition  to  the  ordinary 
sexual  reproduction,  there  are  various  modifications  of  the 
process  of  budding,  the  full  exposition  of  which  would 
necessitate  more  space  than  is  hero  allotted,  and  is  not 
yet  indeed  within  the  possibilities  of  present  knowledge. 
The  fertilized  egg  of  the  Gymnoljema  gives  rise  to 
remarkable  ciliate  larvre  of  various 
forms  (figs.  19,  20,  21),  from  which 
the  first  polypide  of  a  colony  is 
developed  by  an  extraordinary  and 
unexplained  series  of  changes. 
The  Gj-mnolaama  are,  with  the 
single  exception  of  the  genus  Palu- 
dicella,  inhabitants  of  the  sea. 

The  Gymiiola?ma  are  divided,  accord- 
ing to  the  system  of  Busk,  into  three 
sub-orders  characterized  by  tho  shape 
of  tlieir  zocccia,  and  the  nature  of  too 
mouth-like  margin  which  it  presents 
when  the  exsertile  portion  of  the  poly- 
pide is  withdrawn  within  it.  The 
Cyclostoma  have  long  tubular  zoo;cia, 
often  of  large  size  and  often  caleitied, 
placed  side  by  side  in  cylindrical  bun- 
dles, or  in  other  definite  grouping  ;  the 
mouth  of  the  zocccium  is  circular  and 
devoid  of  processes.  There  is  little  or 
no  dilTereutiation  of  tlio  polypides  con- 
stituting a  colony.  Most  of  this  group 
are  fossil,  and  the  living  genera  belong 
mostly  to  southern  ?eas.  The  genera 
Crisia  (fi;'.  1.3,  A),  Diastopora,  Tubuli- 
pora,  ami  Hornera  are  typical.  The 
Ctenostoma  have  usually  a  soft  zoce- 
cium  ;  its  orifice  is  closed  by  the  folds 
of  tho  retiacted  jwlypide  or  by  a 
circlet  of  bristles  which  surround  it. 
Alcyonidimn  gclatinosum  is  the  com- 
monest representative  of  this  group 
on  the  British  coasts.  Bowerbankia 
(fig.  1,  A)  and  Paludicella  (fig.  1,  E) 
also  belong  here.  Tho  Cluloatoma 
form  tho  largest  and  most  varied  sub- 
order of  Gyinnolrema.  Tho  zocecia  aro 
horny  or  calcified 

closed  by  a  projecting  lip  in  the  form 
of  an  operculum.  The  operculum  is 
a  separable  piato  developed  on  the 
cuticle  of  tho  retractile  part  of  tho 
polypide,  and  has  muscles  attached 
to  it  (fig.  13,  B,  C,  D).  The  surface 
of  the  zooecia  is  frequently  sculptured, 
and  its  orifice  provided  with  processes 
and  spines  (fig.  1,  C,  F).  Very  usually 
some  of  the  polypides  of  a  colony  aro 
modified  asavicularia.vibracularia,  radi- 
cal fibres,  and  ooecia.  The  aviculariuin 
is  a  polypide  reduced  to  a  simple  nuiscu- 
lur  apparatus  workingupon  the  modifiet'. 
operculum  and  zoa'cium  so  as  to  cause  these  hard  parts  to  act  as  a 
sna]iping  apparatus  comparable  to  a  bird's  head  (fig.  1'2,  o).  They 
are  frequently  found  regularly  distributed  ^mong  tho  normal  cells 
of  a  colony,  and  probably  have  a  cleansing  function  similar  to  that 
attributed  to  the  Pcdicellaria!  of  the  Echinoderms.  "  Vibi-acularia" 
are  even  more  simplified  iiolypides,  being  litllo  more  than  motile 
filijments,  probably  tactile  in  function.  Tho  oporculn  of  zocccia, 
ocecia,  and  avicularia  hove  recently  been  used  by  Busk  in  character- 
izing genera  and  snecies,  in  a  systematic  way.  Stem-building  and 
root-forming  polypides  are  frequently  found,  being  closed  polypides 
which  subserve  anchoring  or  supporting  functions  for  tho  DoneHt  of 
the  whole  colony.     The  stem  of  Kinctoskius  (fig.  14)  is  produced 


.1    •        -c  ,      Fic.   12.— Two  zocccia  of  A<a- 

their  orifices  can  be      ,nardii$    {Bugula)  avieulat-ia. 


Lmx.  (Chllostumn),  of  wMch 
Ihe  antorior  contains  ti  livlnR 
polyjiiiU',  whilat  (ht*  posteilor 
1b  empty.  To  chcIi  is  aitftchcd 
one  of  tho  chiirnctoriatlcfll- 
ly  iDOdlftcd  polypUlcn  known 
as  nn  "  avlculuiiuni"  o ;  the 
lilmlcr  of  tliCKO  hits  grasped 
and  holth  In  Ita  beak  a  amall 
worm,  a,  anus;  i.  Intestine; 
c,  Htomach ;  r,  body-oivlly 
(ccelom);  /,  tentacular  crown 
AinroiuuIinK  the  mouth ;  te, 
tfstls  ci'II»  developed  on  tho 
surface  of  the  terminal  mesen- 
tery or  "funlcalns";  0,0,  avi- 
culaiia. 


438 


P  0  L  Y  Z  O  A 


in   this  way.     Tho   Cliilostotna  include   a   large  scries  of  genera 
arranged  in   the  sections  C'ellularina,   Flustrina,  Escharina,  and 


Fig,  13, — A.  Csnccclam  of  Crista  eburnea,  Lin.,  one  of  the  Cyclostomn  ;  g,  g, 
tubultir  zottciawith  circular  terminal  mouths;  x,  caelum,  being  a  zoceciura 
modified  to  serve  03  a  brood-chamber. 

B.  Diagram  of  a  single  polypide  of  one  of  the  Chilostoma  In  a  slate  of  expansion, 
in  order  to  show  the  position  and  action  of  the  operculum,  a,  operculum, 
a  plate  of  thicl<cncd  cuticle  hinccd  or  jointed  to  6.  the  main  area  of  dense 
cuticle  of  the  nnliteiitncular  rcRion  known  as  the  zocecium  ;  c,  the  soft-walled 
portion  of  the  polypide  in  e.xpansion. 

C.  The  same  zooecium  witli  the  polypide  invaginated  (telescoped)  and  the 
operculum  a  shut  down  over  the  mouth  of  the  zooecium. 

D.  Operculum  detached,  and  seen  from  its  inner  face,  to  show  the  occlusor 
muscles  d  d. 

Celleporina.  _  For  the  systematic  description  of  the  highly  complex 
and  very  varied  colonial  skeletons  or  ccencecia  of  the  Gynmolsema, 


Fio.  \i.—KineloMas  (Karesia)  ctiatfius  (from  Sir  Wyville  Thomson).  The  poly- 
pldes  and  zooecia  are  allied  to  Bugufa,  but  the  zoariura  as  a  whole  is  remarkable 
for  Its  definite  shape,  consisting  of  a  number  of  slightly  branched  gracefully 
bending  fllamenls  supiiorted  like  the  leaves  of  a  palm  on  a  long  transparent 
stalk.    (See  Dusk,  in  Quart.  Joiirn.  MUr.  Hci.,  18S1,  for  further  details.) 

the  reader  is  referred  to  the  works  of  Busk  (9),  Hincks  (10),  Smitt 
(11),  and  Heller  (12).      See  also  Ehlers  (13)  on  Hypophorella. 


Sub-class  2.  Entoprocta,  Nitsche. 

Eupolyzoa  in  wliicli  the  anal  aperture  lies  close  to  the 
mouth  within  the  tentacular«area  or  Icphophore.  Lopho- 
phore  sunk  within  a  shallow  basin  formed  by  the  inversion 
of  the  broad  truncated  extremity  of  the  cup-shaped  body. 
Tentacular  crown  not  further  introversible,  the  individual 
tentacles  (as  in  the  Pterobraiichia  and  unlike  the  Ecto- 
procta)  capable  of  beini^  flexed  and  partially  rolled  up  so 
as  to  overhang  the  mouth  (see  fig.  15,  B  and  C).  Body- 
cavity  (creloni)  almost  completely  obliterated.  The  anti- 
tentacular  region  of  the  polypide's  body  is  drawn  out  to 
form  a  stalk  similar  to  the  gymnocaulus  of  the  Pterobran- 
chia.  The  extremity  of  this  stalk  is  provided  with  a 
cement  gland  in  the  young  condition  which  persists  in  the 
adult  of  some  species  {Loxosoma  neapolitanmn,  fig.  16, 
shs).  Cuticular  investment  (zooecium)  of  the  polypides 
feebly  developed.     A  pair  of  small  nephridia  are  present. 

The  Entoprocta  consist  of  the  marine  genera  Pedi- 
cellina  (fig.    15),  Loxosoma  (fig.   16),  and  probably  the 


Fig.  15. — A.  Two  polypides  and  buds  of  PedicclHna  hcfgica,  Van  B.  (after 
Van  Beneden);  greatly  magnified. '  a,  the  polypide-stalk  of  a  fully  developed 
polypide  ;  c,  that  of  a  less  mature  individual ;  6,  a  bud.  All  are  connected  by 
a  common  stalk  or  stolon.  B.  and  C.  Two  views  of  the  body  of  the  polypide 
of  Pedicellina  (after  Allnian).  a,  cuticle;  b,  body-wail;  c,  permanently  in- 
troverted anterior  region  of  the  body;  rf,  margin  of  the  tentacular  cup  or 
calyx  thus  formed;  f,  mouth; /,  phaiynx;  ;;,  stomach ;  A,  intestine;  i.anus; 
<t-,  epistome  01^  prie-oral  lobe ;  /,  neiTe-ganglion  ;  m,  gonad ;  «,  retractor 
muscle  of  the  lophopliorc ;  o,  lupliophore. ' 

»  <  ''  c  , 

insufficiently  known  freshwater  American  genus  Urnatella 
of  Leidy.  To  these  must  be  added  Busk's  new  genus 
Ascopodaria,  as  yet  undescribed,  based  on  a  specimen 
dredged  by  the  ''  Challenger,"  showing  a  number  of  Pedi- 
cellina-like  polypides,  carried  as  an  umbel  on  a  common 
stalk  of  very  peculiar  structure.  Pedicellina  is  found  at- 
tached to  algK,  shclLs,  zoophytes,  &c.,  and  to  the  integu- 
ment of  some  Gephyrsean  worms  (Sipunaihis  punctatus) 
and  Annelids  (Aphrodite)  ;  Loxosoma  occurs  on  various 
worms,  ikc.  Whilst  the  buds  of  Pedicellina  remain  connected 
so  as  to  constitute  a  colony,  those  produced  by  Loxosoma 
are  continually  detached,  so  that  the  polypide  is  solitary. 
Further,  the  cup-like  body  of  Pedicellina  is  deciduous,  ami 
frequently  falls  from  the  stalk  and  is  replaced  by  new 
growth.  There  is  less  distinction  between  body  and  stall< 
in  Loxosoma,  and  the  former  does  not  become  detached.' 
Apparent!}'  a  very  important  feature  in  the  structure  of 
the  Entoprocta  is  tlie  absence  of  a  body-cavity.  This  is, 
however,  more  apparent  than  real.  The  Entoprocta  are 
true  Ccelomata^  but  the  ccelora  is  partially  obliterated  by 
the  growth  of  tnesoblastic  tissue.  The  nephridia  presum- 
ably lie  in  a  space  which,  small  as  it  is,  rejireseuts  the 
coelom.     See  Harmer  (18)  for  details. 


P  O  L  Y  Z  O  A 


439 


Getualogical  Relatiomhips  of  the  Groups  of  Polyzoa. 

It  is  necessary  that  we  should  try  to  form  some  opinion 
*3  to  which  of  the  various  groups  of  Polyzoa  are  most  like 
the  ancestral  form  from  which  they  have  all  sprung,  and 
what  are  the  probable  lines  of  descent  within  the  group. 
Any  attempt  of  the  kind  is  speculative,  but  it  is  absolutely 
needful  since  zoology  has  become  a  science — that  is  to  say, 
an  investigation  of  causes  and  not  merely  a  record  of 
unexplained  observations — to  enter  upon  such  "questions. 
Colonial  organisms  have  necessarily  descended  from  soli- 
tary ancestors,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  ancestral  form 
of  Polyzoa  was  not  only  solitary,  as  are  Phoronis  and 
Loxosoma  at  the  present  day,  but  of  relatively  large  size 
and  more  elaborately  organized  than  the  majority  of  living 
Polyzoa.     WTiilst  the  polypides  have  dwindled  in  size  and 


Pio.  Ifl.— Diagram  of  Loxosotna  yeapotitanum  (after  Kowaicwsky).  A  sIiikIq 
polyplde  devoid  of  buda.  m,  mouth ;  tt,  stomach ;  >/)<,  basal  gtnnd  of  tho 
rolypldC'SUlk, 

lost  some  of  their  internal  organs,  tho  modern  Polyzoa 
have  developed  pari  passu  with  this  degeneration  an 
elaborate  system  of  bud-production  and  colony-formation. 
The  new  individuality  (tho  tertiary  aggregate)  attains  a 
high  degree  of  development  (Cristatella,  Kinetoskias)  in 
proportion  as  the  constituent  units  merged  in  this  new 
individuality  have  suffered  a  degeneration.  The  pra;-oral 
lobe  (epistonie,  buccal  disk)  present  in  all  Polyzoa  except 
the  most  minute  and  most  elaborately  colonial  forms — 
namely,  tho  Gymnolxma — is  to  be  regarded  as  an  ancestral 
structure  which  has  been  lost  by  tho  Gymnolrema.  Tho 
horse-shoeshaped  lophophore,  such  as  we  sec  it  in  Phoronis 
and  in  Lophopus,  is  probably  the  ancestral  form,  and  has 
given  rise  to  the  two  other  extreme  forms  of  lophophore, — 
namely,  the  "  pterobranchiale,"  associated  with  a  great 
development  of  tho  epistome,  and  the  "  circular,"  a-ssociated 
with  a  complete  suppression  of  the  epistome.  The  ento- 
proctous  lophophore  is  a  special  modification  of  the  horse- 
shoe-shaped, as  shown  in  the  diagram  fig.  15,  C.  Tho 
formation   of   zooecia,   and   so    of   an    elaborate   colonial 


skeleton,  was  not  a  primary  feature  of  the  Polyzoa.  Even 
after  budding  and  colony-formation  had  been  established 
zocecia  were  not  at  once  produced,  but  possibly  dwellings 
of  another  kind  (Pterobranchia).  We  are  thus  led  to  look 
upon  the  Gymnolaema  as  tho  extreme  modification  of  the 
Polyzoon  type.  Starting  with  an  organism  similar  to 
Phoronis,  we  may  suppose  the  following  branchings  in  the 
pedigree  to  have  occurred. 

Vehmiformia 

I 


I     ■ 
A.  The  complete  hippocrepian 
lophophore   becomes  specialized 
in  the  form  of  etcnidia  or  gill- 
plumes  ;  the  epistome  enlarged. 

=  Pterobranchia. 
o.  The  auti-teutacular  region  of 
the  body  elongated  as  a  stalk 
gives  rise  to  one  or  two 
rapidly  detached  buds  (Ce- 
phalocliscus). 
p.  The  st.ilk  gives  rise  to  buds 
which  do  not  detach  them- 
selves, but  remain  in  con- 
tinuity so  as  to  foira  a 
colony  of  a  hundred  or 
more  individuals  (Rhabdo- 
pleura). 


B.  The  complete  hippocrepian 
lophophore  retains  its  form,  but 
acquires  a  gradually  increasing 
power  of  being  teleacoped  into, 
the  hinder  part  of  the  body. 
—  The  Pro-Eupolyzoon. 


A.  The  anti-tentacular  region 
of  tho  body  becomes  stalk-like, 
and  develops  buds  which  either 
detach  themselves  as  they  form 
(Loxosoma)  or  remain  to  form  a 
small  colony  (Pedirellina).  The 
telescopic  introversibility  of  the 
lophophore  does  not  advance  be- 
yond an  initial  stage.  The  arms 
of  the  lophophore  grow  round  so 
AS  to  embrace  the  anus. 
-Sub-class  1  (of  the  Eupoly- 
zoa)  Entoprocta. 


B.  The  complete  hippocrepian 
lophophore  remains  in  its  origi- 
nal form,  and  also  tho  praeomi 
epistome,  but  the  telescopic  in- 
troversibility of  the  anterior 
region  of  the  body  is  greatly  de- 
veloped at  the  samo  time  that 
the  cuticle  of  the  hinder  part  of 
the  body  is  increased  in  thickness 
and  toughness.  Bud  production, 
not  from  a  stalk-like  pedicle,  but 
from  all  parts  of  tho  body,  now 
becomes  characteristic,  tho  buds, 
which  were  at  first  deciduous, 
now  remaining  in  permanent 
continuity  so  as  to  form  colonies. 
-Tho  Pro-Ectoprocton. 


A.  Tho  polypides  acijiiiro  tho 
property  of  carrying  their  young 
so  as  to  avoid  tho  disastrous 
influences  of  Huviatilo  cuiTents, 
and  also  the  property  of  produc- 
ing resistent  atatoblasta,  and 
thus  are  enabled  to  bocomo 
isolated  and  to  persist  in  tho 
l«;culiar  conditions  of  fresh 
waters. 

—  Tho  Ist  order  (of  Ectoprocta; 
Fhylactolffima. 


B.  Tho  polypides  formins 
relatively  larger  colonies,  and 
themselves  becoming  relatively 
more  minute,  lose  by  atrophy  the 
priE-oral  cnistomo  ;  and  simul- 
taneously tlio  arms  of  tlie  hippo- 
crepian lophophoro  dwindle,  and 
a  simple  circum-oral  circlet  of 
tentacles  is  tho  result  Tho 
cuticle  of  tho  hinder  part  of  tho 
polypide  becomes  moro  and  moro 
specialized  as  tho  cell  or  zooj- 
cmm,  and  in  dilTerent  polypides 
in  various  parts  of  tho  colony 
acquires  special  forms— as  ogg- 
cascs,  snappers  (aviculaiia),  ten- 
tacles, stalk  and  root  segments. 
-Tho  2d  order  (of  Ectopi-octa) 
Gymnolaima. 

Distinctive  Characters  of  the  Polyzoa. 

From  all  that  has  preceded  it  appears  that  tho  really 
distinctive  characters  common  to  all  tho  Polyzoa  may  be 
summed  up  as  follo\vB  : — 

Calomata  »vith  closely  approximated  mouth  and  nnus, 
the  bulk  of  tho  body  forming  a  moro  or  less  elongate 
growth  at  right  angles  to  tho  original  (ancestral)  oro-anal 
axis,  and  starting  from  tho  original  ventral  {i.e.,  oral)  sur- 
face. A  variously  modified  group  cf  ciliated  ten'-'^ilas  is 
disposed  around  the  mouth,  being  essentially  tho  develop- 
ment by  digitiform  upgrowth  of  a  post-oral  ciliated  hand. 


440 


P  0  L  Y  Z  O  A 


As  negative  characters  it  is  important  to  note  the  absence 
of  all  trace  of  nietameric  segmentation,  of  setae,  and  of 
paired  lateral  (parapodia  of  Appendiculata)  or  median 
ventral  (podium  of  Mollusca)  outgrowths  of  the  body-wall. 
Larval  Forms  of  Pohjzoa. 

In  the  consideration  of  the  probable  pedigree  and  affinities  of  the 
Polyzoa,  we  are  not  at  present  able  to  make  use  of  the  facts  of 
development  from  the  egg,  on  account  of  the-  extreme  difficulty 
which  the  study  of  the  young  stages  of  these  organisms  presents. 
In  the  case  of  Phoronis  we  have  the  only  readily  intelligible  his- 
tory. The  larva,  to  start  with,  is  of  that  form  known  as  an  archi- 
troch  (see  Lankester,  "Notes  on  Embryology  and  Classification," 
Qtuirt.  Journ.  Micr.  Sci.,  1876),  having  a  prfe-oral  ciliated  area 
(velum  or  cephalotroch)  continuous  with  a  post-oral  ciliated  band 
(the  brauchiotroch),  which  latter  becomes  developed  into  the  ten- 
tacular crown  of  the  adult. 

The  actinotrocha  (Phoronis)  larva  is  r-eadily  comparable  with  the 
trochosphere  larvae  of  Echinoderms,  Chaetopods,  Gephyraeans,  and 
Molluscs.  Its  special  character  consists  in  the  strong  develop- 
ment of  the  post-oral  ciliated  band,  whereas  the  prse-oral  ciliated 
band  is  in  most  other  classes  (the  Sipunculoids  excepted)  the 
predominant  one.  The  Phoronis  larva  exhibits  first  of  all  an  oro- 
anal  long  axis,  and  this  is  suddenly  abandoned  for  a  new  long  axis 
by  the  growth  of  the  ventral  surface  of  the  larva  at  right  angles  to 
the  primary  axis  (hence  the  term  Podaxonia). 

In  the  other  Polyzoa  we  do  not  at  present  know  of  any.  larva 
whiob  retains  even  in  its  earliest  phases  the  original  oro-anal  long 
axis.  They  all  appear  to  start  at  once  with  the  peculiar  and 
secondary  long  axis  of  the  adult  Phoronis, .  so  that.  Balfour  has 
diagrammatically  represented  the  Polyzoon  larva  by  the  sketch 
given  in  fig.  19.  This  diagram  applies,  howc\-er,  more  especially  to 
the  Entoprocta,  since  the  anus  is  represented  as  included  in  the  area 
of  the  post-oral  ciliated  ring.  The  development  of  Pedicellina  has 
been  very  carefully  followed  by  Hatschek,  and  may  be  said  to  be 


Fig.  17.  Fig.  18. 

Fio.  17.— Larva  of  Pedicellina  (from  Balfour,  after  Hatschek).  r,  vestibule 
(the  cup  like  depression  of  the  tcntaculifevoua  end  of  the  body) ;  ot,  mouth  ; 
I,  difrestive  gland  ;  an.i,  anal  invagination  :  fg,  the  ciliated  disk  (coiresponding 
to  the  cement  gland  of  Loxosoina  (tig.  IG,  s/>5);  x,  so-called  "dorsal  organ," 
supposed  by  Balfour  to  be  a  bud,  by  Haimer  {18)  regarded  as  the  cephalic 
ganglion. 

FiO.  18. — Later  stage  J  the  same  larva  as  fig.  17.  Letters  as  before,  with  the 
addition  of  nph,  duct  of  the  right  nephridium  ;  a,  anus  ;  fiff,  hind-gut. 

the  only  instance  among  the  Eupolyzoa  in  which  the  growth  of 
the  diS'erent  organs  and  the  consequent  relation  of  the  form  of  the 
larva  to  the  forrii  of  the  adult  is  understood  (see  figs.  17  and  18). 

In  the  other  Polyzoa,  in  spite  of  the  painstaking  and  minute 
studies  of  Barrois  (14),  the  fact  is  that  we  do 
not  know  what  face  of  the  larva  corresponds  to 
the  tenta''ular  area,  what  to  the  stalk  or  anti- 
tintacular  extremity,  what  to  the  anterior  and 
T  nat  to  the  posterior  surface.^   The  conversion 
of  the  larva  into  the  first  polypide  has  not  s(. 
been  observed  in  the  case  of  these  free-swim- 
ming forms,  and  it  is  even  probable  that  no 
such  conversion  ever  takes  place,  but  that  the 
first  polypide  forms  as  a  bud  upon  the  body 
wall  of  the  larva. 

Two  of  the  most  remarkable  forms  of  free- 
swimming  larvse  of  Gymnolaema  are  repre- 
sented in  figs.  20  and  21.  '  In  both,  in  addition 
to  the  chief  post-oral  ciliated  band,  a  smaller 
ciliated  ring  is  observed,  which  is  identified 
by  Balfour  with  that  which  is  found  at  the  anti-tentacular  extremity 
(base  of  the  stalk)  in  the  PediceUina  larva. 


Fjo.  19.— Diagram  of  an 
ideal  Polyzoon  larva 
(from  Balfour).  an, 
anus  ;  m,  mouth  ;  st, 
stomach ;  a,  ciliated 
disk  (fg  ia  figs.  17,  18, 
and  21). 


G.  20,— Larva  of  Ahyonidium  wytiH  (from  Balfour 
after  Barrois).  m  ?,  problematic  structure;  st,  oral 
inviigination  (?)  =  Harmer's  cephalic  ganglion  ;  5.  cili- 
ated disk  (corresponding  to/?  in  figs.  17,  18,  and  21). 


It  does  not  seem'justifiable,  in  the  face  of  the  existing  uncertain- 
ties as  to  identification  of  parts,  and  in  view  of  the  high  probability 
that  the  Gymno- 
Itema  are  extremely  *t 

modified  and  degen- 
erate forms  (a  con- 
sideration which 
applies  in  some  re- 
spects even  more 
strongly  to  the  En- 
toprocta), to  assume 
that  the  larval  form 
schematized  in  fig.  j.^ 
19  represents  an  an- 
cestral condition  of 
the  Polyzoa.  Pro- 
fessor Balfour  (15)  was,  however,  led  to  entertain  such  a  view  ;  and, 
-  assuming  that  the  chief  ciliated  band  (drawn  as  a  broad  black  line) 
corresponds  to  the  single 
prae-oral  ciliated  band  ot 
the  trochosjihere  larva  of 
Echiurus,  Polygordius, 
ClL-etopods,  and  Mollus- 
ca, he  pointed  out  tliat  in 
both  cases  the  ciliated 
girdle  divides  the  .larva 
into  a  hemisphere  in 
which  mouth  and  anus 
lie  and  a  hemisphere 
which  is  the  complement 
of  this  :  in  most  classes 
the  first  hemisphere 
elongates  and  forms  the 
bulk  of  the  body,  whilst 
the    second    hennsphere 

forms  the  prostomiura  or  V     «■     t  /■..-. 

1   11  D    «-  Fig.  21. — Larva  of  jU'iuoranipora  (known  as  Cy- 

prae-oral  lobe.  Bllt,  ac-  pl,„nautes>.  g,,  mouth  ;  a\  anus ;  fg.  ciliated 
cording  to  Balfour  S  body;  x,  probleniatical  body,  supposed  by  Bal- 
theory,  in  Polyzoa  it  is  f""''  ^0  be  a  bud,  simibr  to  the  dorsal  orgatr  i 
the  second  hemisphere  '"  fie»- n,  is,  and  to  either  .<  or  m  in  Bg- -^O- 
which  enlarges  and  becomes  the  stalk-like  body  of  the  adultj  whilst 
the  first  hemisphere  remains  small  and  insignificant.  Thus  the 
Polyzoa  would  fix  themselves  in 
later  growth  by  what  corresponds 
to  the  head  or  prostomium  of 
other  animals,  as  do  the  Bar- 
nacles and  the  Ascidians.  In- 
genious as  this  speculation  is,  we 
must  remember  that  it  takes  no 
account  of  the  facts  known  as 
to  Phoronis,  nor  of  the  Ptero- 
branchia,  and  that  it  is  con- 
fessedly based  upon  the  assump- 
tion that  the  larvffi  of  extremely 
degenerate  and  peculiar  members 
of  the  group  are  not  adaptive  and 
modified,  but  i-etain  primary  and 
archaic  charai'ters.  Further,  it 
is  to  be  distinctly  borne  in  mind 
that  the  interjiretation  of  parts 
upon  which  this  speculation 
rests  is,  except  iu  the  case  of 
Pedicellina,  altogether  hypo- 
thetical. 

Relations  of  the  I'oiyzoa  to  the 
Brachiopoifa. 

The  Polyzoa  were  first  asso> 
elated  with  the  Brachiopoda  bj- 
H.  Milne-Edwards.  Tlie  inves- 
tigation of  the  development  of 
Terebratulina  by  Moise  (16)  led 
to  a  further  perception  of  the 
points  of  agreement  in  struc- 
ture between  these  two  groups. 
Lastly,  Caldwell  (6)  has  shown 
that  the  mesenteries  of  Phoronis 
have  precisely  similar  relations 
to  the  lopliophore,  the  nephndia, 
and  the  termination  of  the  intes- 
tine as  have  the  gastro.parietal 
and  ilio-i>arietal  bands  or  mes- 
enteries of  the  TerebratulidiC. 
The  young  Terebratulina  (fig.  22) 
may  be  readily  compared  with  Loxosonia  (fig.  16), — the  peduncle 
with  its  cement  glands  in  the  former  being  identical  witli  the  stalk 
and  basal  gland  of  the  latter.     The  form  of  the  alimentary  canal 


Fig.  22.— Young  Terebratulina  at  a  sl-gc 
■  when  only  si.x  tentacles  aic  present. 
se,  seta;  at  the  maigiii  of  the  caly.\:  p, 
slalk  comp.irable  to  the  stulk  of  fedi- 
cellina,  Lo.xosoinH,  Cephalodistus,  and 
Iilmbdopleura;p«,  cement  gland  at  the 
apex  of  the  stalk  (after  Moi  se). 


F  0  M  — P  0  M 


441 


niiii  the  disposition  of  the  tentacular  nrms  (fig.  23)  is  the  same  in 
lirachiopoJn  and  Polyzna.  Tho  nt'pliridia  (ovi.lucts)  of  Terebratula 
have  a  position  and  relalinns  similar  to  those  of  the  ncphridia  (geni- 
tal ducts)  of  Phoronis.  Tho  chief 
difference  between  Polyzoa  and 
Brachiopoda  consists  in  the  special 
development  of  the  margin  of  the 
cuppea  end  of  the  body,  into  which 
the  lophophore  is  sunk,  as  in  I'edi- 
cellina  (see  fig.  15.  B,  c).  This 
np-standing  margin  is  enormously 


Fig.  23. 


FiK.  24. 


Fio.  53.— Lophophore  and  epistome  of  yonnc  Tcrebratullna,  showing  the  horse- 
Bhoe  shape;  the  arms  are  turned  Id  the  diiectlon  the  reverse  of  that  taken  by 
the  luphophore-anns  in  Polyzoa  (see  fig.  4).  In  later  giowtb  they  will  becotue 
spirally  coiled.     (After  Moise.) 

Flo.  24.— Larrtt  of  the  Bmchiopod  Arglope  (frotn  Gegcnbaur, after  Kowalewsky). 
m,  Betigerous  lobe;  &,  sctje;  d,  enteron. 

increased  in  the  Brachioipoda,  so  as  to  form  a  voluminous  hood  or 
collar,  which  surrounds  the  large  tentacular  arms,  and  forms  a  pro- 
tective chamber  for  them.  It  is  notched  right  and  left  so  as  to  be 
divided  iut,o  two  iobes,  and  on  its  surface  is  developed  a  horny  or  a 
calcareous  shell  in  two  corresponding  moieties.  Until  recently  it 
was  held  (see  Lankester,  37)  that  both  Brachiopoda'  and  Polyzoa 
were  modificatione  of  the  MoUuscan  type,  and  the  Brachiopods' 
collar  was  identified  with  the  paliial  fold  of  Mollusca.  The  resem- 
blance of  the  two  structures  must  now  be  considered  as  purely 
homoplastic,  and  not  as  having  any  real  morphological  (homo- 
genetic) significance. 

The  larvae  of  the  Brachiopoda  (figs.  24,  25)  are  as  exceptional  and 
difficult  of  interpretation  as  those  of  Polyzoa,  but  no  attempt  has 
been  yet  made  to  show  that  the  one  can  be  reduced  to  a  common 
form  with  the  other.  The  three  segments  presented  by  some 
Brachiopod  larvae  (fig.  25)  ihave  been  compared  to  tho  segments  of 
Choetopod  woru;s  by  some  writers ;  and  these,  together  with  the 


presence  of  sette,  have  been  regarded  as  indicative  of  affinity  betweeiT 
the  Biachiopoda  and  Cheetopoda  (Morse).  Bnt  it  is  sufficient,  in 
order  to  dispose  of  this  suggestion,' to  point  out  that  the  segment* 
of  the  Choetopoda  follow  one  another  along  the  primary  oroanal 
axis,  whilst  tliose  of  Brachiopoda  are  developed  along  an  axis  at 
right  angles  to  this  (Caldwell). 
The  Brachiopoda  must  be  classified  together  with  the,  Polyzoa 


Fio.  25.— Surface  Tiewa  of  ten  stages  in  the  development  of  Terebratiillna,  showlnir 
the  free-swimming  larva  and  lis  mode  of  fixation  (after  Mor3e).    c,  lophophcriil 
*  segment;  t/i,  thoracic  aegraent;  p,  peduncular  segment;  cfi,  deciduous  setc 

and  Sipunculoidea  in  a  phylum  (Podaxonia)  characterized  by  tho 
development  of  this  secondary  axis. 

BihHoijraphy .—(X)  J.  Vanghan  Thompson,  ZooJoqirnl  Heifarchtt,  Memoir  T., 
"On  Polyzoa,  a  new  animal,  an  inhabitant  of  some  Zoophytes,'' Ac,  1830;  (2) 
F.hrenberg,  Abhcrdl.  d.  k.  Akad.  d.  A'alunrist.  tu  Berlin,  11*31;  (3)  Henri  MUno- 
Edwards,  Rrcherches  anatomiques,  jihysiologlques,  et  zoologiq^ie^  lur  Us  Polypifrt 
di  Frailer.  Svo.  1841-44;  (4)  Allman,  T/ie  Brilisli  t'reihicaltr  Pdytoa,  Ray 
Society.  18.iS  ;  (5)  Jolliet,  "  Bryozoairea  des  eOtes  de  France,"  Arch.  d.  Zoot, 
cxp^rim.,  vo\.  vi.,  1S77;  (8)  Caldwell,  Proceedingt  o/  Ihc  Royal  Sxiety.  1883; 
(7)  Lankester,  "  Rhabdopleura."  Quart.  Jour.  Uicr.  Sci.,  1S61  ;  (8)  NlUche, 
Z'ilsclir.  fur  tiiss.  Zoologic,  1809,  and  supplement  volume,  1876;  (9)  Busk, 
Calalogue  of  the  Marine  Po'yzoa  in  the  British  tfustum  (1852),  aj)d  Voyage 
of  the  "  Challenger,''  "Report  on  the  Polvzoa,"  vol.  J.;  (10)  HIncka.  Briliih 
Marine  Polvioa,  London,  1880;  (11)  Smitt,  Knlisk  forleekning  d/r<T  Skandt- 
navieru  J/aft  Bryozoa,  1804-68;  (12)  Heller.  Die  Bryozoen  d.  Adrialisehm 
Mte'Ct,  1807;  (13)  Ehlers,  "  Hypophorellacxpansa,"  Abhandl.  d.  kmig.  Oeselltrh. 
Goltingcn.  xxl..  1876;  (14)  Banois,  Annalei  des  Seieneet  Saturellet,  vol.  Ix., 
1360;  (IB)  Balfour,  Comparalite  Embryology.  London,  1880,  vol.  1.,  p.  242  ;  (16) 
Motac,  "On  the  Systemalic  Position  of  the  Biachiopoda."  Boston  Soc,  ^'at.  Hist., 
vol.  XV.,  1873;  (17)  Lankester,  "Remarks  on  the  Affinities  of  Khabdopleura,", 
Quart.  Jour.  Micr.  Sci.,  vol.  xlv.,  nevr  series,  1874;  (18)  Hanutr  "On  LoxQ^ 
soma,"  Quart.  Jour.  Micr.  Sci.,  April  1886.  (E.  R.  L.) 


POMBAL,  Sebastian  Joseph  de  Cajrvalho  e  Mello, 
Marcjuis  de  (1699-1782),  the  greatest  .statesman  Portugal 
has  produced  in    modern  times,   -was  the  son  of  a  fairly 
wealthy  country  gentleman,  Emmanuel  de  Carvalho,  and 
was  born  at  Souro,  near  Pombal,  on  13th  May  1699.     He 
was  educated  at  the  university  of  Coimbra,  and  -was  then  for 
a  short  time  in  the  army,  but  it  was  not  until  ho  was  nearly 
forty  and  had  been  married  some  years  thti.t  he  received 
his  first  public  appointment,  and  was  sent  as  minister  to 
London  in  1739.    There  he  studied  English  administration, 
but  never  learnt  the  English  language,  and  vas  promoted 
to  the  embassy  at  Vienna  by  King  John  V.  in  1745,  and 
recalled  in   1750  to  become  minister  for  ff reign  affairs. 
Before  he  reached  Lisbon  John  was  dead,  and  his  successor 
King  Joseph  at  once  placed  entire  confidence  in  him.     He 
soon  began  to  show  his  strength  :  in  1751  he  checked  the 
Inquisition,  by  allowing  no  executions  without  the  royal 
permission  ;  he  improved  the  navy,   tho  police,   and  the 
finances,  and  freed  the  Indians  of  tho  Brazils  from  slavery. 
The  great  earthquake  of  Li-sbon  on   1st  November  1755 
showed  him  in  his  true  greatness ;  when  the  king  asked 
Lim  de.spairingly  what  he  should  do,  he  answered  briefly, 
"  Bury  tho  dead  and  feed  the  living,"  and  by  his  calmness 
at  that  frightful  moment  gained  an  ascendency  over  the 
royal  mind  which  lasted  till  Joseph's  death.     Uis  power 
was  at  oiice  used  to  check  the  Roman  Catholic  Church, 
which,  with  the  Jesuits  and  the  Inquisition,  had  eaten  tho 
life  out  of  the  country,  and  in  1757  the  Jesuits  were  ex- 
pelled from  court  (see  Jesuits,  vol.  xiii.  p.  654).      Tho 


Count  d'Oeyras,  as  he  was  now  made,  then  devoted  him- 
self to  internal  administration ;  he  founded  the  Oporto 
Wine  Company,  encouraged  sericulture,  rebuilt  Lisbon,  and 
improved  on  the  Jesuit  system  of  education,  and  in  1762 
.showed  his  concurrence  in  the  hereditary  policy  of 
Portugal  in  helping  England  against  Spain,  when  the 
Family  Compact  had  united  the  interests  of  Spain  and 
France."  On  the  3rd  September  1769  an  attempt  on  tho 
king's  life  was  frustrated  by  the  count,  who  was  in  1770 
made  marquis  of  Pombal.  He  remained  in  power  till  the 
death  of  the  king  in  1777,  but  the  new  sovereign,  Queen 
Maria,  at  once  accepted  his  resignation,  and  persecuted  him  ■ 
till  his  death  in  1782. 

POMEGRANATE.  The  pomegranate  {Punka  Gratia- 
ium)  is  of  exceptional  interest  by  reason  of  its  structure,  its 
history,  and  its  utility.  It  forms  a  tree  of  small  stature, 
or  a  bush  with  opposite,  shining,  lance-shaped  leaves,  from 
the  axils  of  some  of  which  proceed  the  brilliant  S(:arlet 
flowers.  These  are  raised  on  a  short  stnik,  and  consist  of^ 
a  thick  fleshy  cylindrical  or  bell-shaped  calyx  tube,  with, 
five  to  seven  short  lobes  at  tho  top.  From  the  throat  of 
the  calyx  proceed  five  to  seven  roundish,  crumpled,  scarlet 
or  crimson  petals,  and  below  them  very  numerous  slender 
stamens.  The  i)istil  consists  of  two  rows  of  carpels  placed 
one  above  another,  both  rows  embedded  in,  and  partially 
inseparato  from,  tho  inner  surface  of  tho  calyx  tube.  Tho 
styles  are  confluent  into  one  filiform  thread.  The  fruit, 
which  usually  attains  tho  size  of  a  largo  orange,  consists  ol 
a  hard  leathery  rind,  which  is  the  enlarged  calyx  tube, 


4^2 


r  0  M  — P  0  M 


enclosing  a  quantity  of  pulp  derived  from  the  coats  of  the 
numerous  seeds.  This  pulp,  filled  as  it  is  with  refreshing 
acid  juice,  constitutes  the  chief  value  of  the  tree.  The 
more  highly  cultivated  forms  contain  more  of  it  than  the 
wild  or  half-wild  varieties.  The  great  structural  peculiar- 
ity consists  in  the  presence  of  the  two  rows  of  carpels  one 
above  another  (a  state  of  things  which  occurs  exceptionally 

in    apples  and  oranges), 

and  in  the  fact  that,  while 

in  the  lower  series  (fig.  1) 

the  seeds  are  attached  to 

the  inner  border  or  lo\yer 

angle  of  the  cavity,  they 

occupy  the  outer  side  in 

Fig  1.  Fig.  2.  tlis  upper  series  (fig.  2), 

Transverse  sections  of  tlie  lower  and   as  if,  during  growth,  the 

upper  p.irts  of  the  berried  fruit  of  upper  whorl  had  become 

the  Pomegranate.  completely  bent  over. 

By  Bentham  and  Hooker  the  genus  Pimica  is  included 

under  Lythracex ;  others  consider  it  more  nearly  allied  to 

the  myrtles ;  while  its  peculiarities  are  so  great  as,  in  the 

opinion  of  many  botanists,  to  justify  its  inclusion  in  a 

separate   order.     Not  only  is   the   fruit  valuable  in  hot 

countries  for  the  sake  of  its  pulp,  but  the  rind  and  the 

bark  and   the   outer   part   of   the  root  are   valuable  as 

astringents  owing  to  the  large  quantity  of  tannin  that  they 

contain.     The  bark  of  the  root  is  likewise  valued  in  cases 

of  tape-worm. 

The  tree  is  without  doutt  wild  in  Afghanistan,  north-western 
India,  and  the  districts  south  and  south-west  of  the  Caspian,  but 
it  has  been  so  long  cultivated  that  it  is  difficult  to  say  whether 
it  is  really  native  in  Palestine  and  the  Mediterranean  region.  It 
has  been  cited  as  wild  in  northern  Africa,  but  this  appears  to  be  a 
mistake.  Recently,  however.  Prof.  Bayley  Balfour  met  with  a 
wild  species,  heretofore  unknown,  in  the  island  of  Socotra,  the 
flowers  of  which  have  only  a  single  row  of  carpels,  which  suggests 
the  inference  that  it  may  have  been  the  source  of  the  cultivated 
varieties.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  in  Afghanistan,  where  Aitchisou 
•net  with  the  tree  truly  wild,  a  double  row  of  carpels  was  present 
as  usual.  Th6  antiquity  of  the  tree  as  a  cultivated  plant  is 
evidenced  by  the  Sanskrit  name  Dddimla,  and  by  the  references 
to  the  fruit  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  in  the  Odyssey,  where  it  is 
spoken  of  as  cultivated  in  the  gardens  of  the  kings  of  Phsacia  and 
Phrygia.  The  fruit  is  frequently  represented  on  ancient  Assyrian 
and  Egyptian  sculptures,  and  had  a  religious  significance  in  con- 
nexion with  several  Oriental  cults,  especially  the  Phrygian  cult  of 
Cybele  (Arnob.,  v.  6i(?. ;  see  also  Baudissin,  Sludicn,  ii.  207  sq.). 
It  was  well  known  to  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  who  were  acquainted 
with  its  medicinal  properties  and  its  use  as  a  tanning  material. 
The  name  given  by  the  Romans,  malum  punicum,  indicates  that 
they  received  it  from  Carthage,  as  indeed  is  expressly  stated  by 
Pliny  ;  and  this  circumstance  has  given  rise  to  the  notion  that  the 
tree  was  indigenous  in  northern  Africa.  On  a  review  of  the  whole 
evidence,  botanical,  literary,,  and  linguistic,  Alphonse  de  CandoUe 
(Origine  dcs  Planks  C'uUivecs)  pronounces  against  its  African 
origin,  and  decides  in  favour  of  its  source  in  Persia  and  the  neigh- 
bouring countries.  According  to  Saporta  the  pomegranate  existed 
in  a  fossil  state  in  beds  of  the  Pliocene  epoch  near  Meximieux  in 
Burgundy.  Tlie  pomegranate  is  sometimes  met  with  in  cultiva- 
tion against  a  wall  in  England,  but  it  is  too  tender  to  withstand  a 
severe  winter.  The  double-flowered  varieties  are  specially  desirable 
for  the  beauty  and  long  duration  of  their  flowers. 

PO^MERANIA  (Germ.  Pommern)  is  a  maritime  pro- 
vince of  Prussia,  bouaded  on  the  N.  by  the  Baltic,  on  the 
W.  by  ^Mecklenburg,  on  the  S.  by  Brandenburg,  and  on 
the  E.  by  West  Prussia.  Its  area  is  11,620  square  miles. 
The  province  is  officially  divided  into  the  three  districts 
of  Stralsund,  Stettin,  and  Coslin ;  but  more  historical 
interest  attaches  to  the  names  of  Vorpomraern  and  Hinter- 
pommern,  or  Hither  and  Farther  Pomerania,  applied  to 
the  territory  to  the  west  and  to  the  east  of  the  Oder 
respectively.  As  a  whole  Pomerania  is  one  of  the  lowest 
and  flattest  parts  of  Germany,  but  to  the  east  of  the  Oder 
it  is  traversed  by  a  range  of  low  hills,  and  there  are  also 
a  few  isolated  eminences  to  the  west.  Off  the  west  coast, 
which  is  very  irregular,  lie  the  islands  of  Kiigen,  Usedom, 


and  Wollin ;  the  coast  of  Farther  Pomerania  is  smooth 
in  outline  and  bordered  with  dunes  or  sandbanks.  Be- 
sides the  Oder  and  its  affluents,  there  are  several  small 
rivers  flowing  into  the  Baltic,  tione  of  which,  however,  are 
navigable  except  for  rafts.  Many  of  these  end  in  small 
littoral  lakes,  separated  from  the  sea  by  a  narrow  strip  of 
land,  through  which  the  water  escapes  by  one  or  more 
outlets.  The  interior  of  the  province  is  also  thickly 
sjjrinkled  with  lakes,  the  combined  area  of  which  is  equal 
to  about  one-twentieth  of  its  entire  surface.  The  soil  of 
Pomerania  is  for  the  most  part  thin  and  sandy,  especially 
to  the  east  of  the  Oder ;  but  patches  of  good  soil  occur 
here  and  there.  About  55  per  cent,  of  the  surface  is 
under  tillage,  while  19  per  cent,  consists  of  meadow  and 
pasture  and  20  per  cent,  is  covered  by  forests.  The 
principal  crops  are  potatoes,  rye,  and  oats,  but  wheat  and 
barley  are  grown  in  the  more  fertile  districts ;  tobacco 
and  beetroot  for  sugar  are  also  cultivated.  Agriculture  is 
still  in  many  respects  carried  on  in  a  somewhat  primitive 
fashion,  and  the  live  stock  is  as  a  rule  of  an  inferior 
quality.  Large  flocks  of  sheep  are  kept  both  for  their 
flesh  and  wool,  and  geese  and  goose-feathers  form  lucrative 
articles  of  export.  (A  tabular  view  of  the  agricultural 
products  of  Pomerania  will  be  found  under  Prussia.) 
Owing  to  the  long  coast-line  and  the  numerous  lakes, 
fishing  forms  a  not  unimportant  industry,  and  large 
quantities  of  herring,  eels,  lampreys,  &c.,  are  sent  from 
Pomerania  to  other  parts  of  Germany.  With  the  excep- 
tions of  its  inexhaustible  layers  of  peat  or  soft  coal,  the 
mineral  wealth  of  Pomerania  is  insignificant.  Its  indus- 
trial activity  is  also  of  no  great  iniportanc'e,  though  there 
are  a  few  manufactories  of  machinery,  chemicals,  tobacco, 
sugar,  and  other  articles,  chiefly  in  or  near  the  larger 
towns,  and  linen-weaving  is  practised  as  a  domestic 
industry.  Shipbuilding  is  carried  on  at  Stettin  and  other 
places  on  the  coast.  Commerce,  however,  is  relatively 
much  more  flourishing.  Stettin  is  one  of  the  chief  sea- 
ports of  Prussia,  and  Stralsuiid,  Greifswald,  and  Colberg 
also  possess  a  foreign  trade,  the  exports  consisting  mainly 
of  grain,  timber,  and  fish. 

In  18S0  Pomerania  contained  1,540,034  inhabitants,  all  of  whom 
were  Protestants  except  23,877  Roman  Catholics  and  13,836  Jews. 
The  Slavonic  element  in  the  population  is  now  represented  only 
by  a  few  thousand  Poles  and  a  handful  of  the  ancient  Cassubians 
on  the  east -border.  Pomerania  is  the  most  sparsely  •populated 
province  in  Prussia,  the  ratio  being  132  inhabitants  per  square  mile. 
About  67  per  cent,  of  the  population  belong  to  the  rural  districts, 
while  the  remainder  live  in  communities  of  2000  and  upwards. 
There  are  only  nine  towns  with  more  than  10,000  inhabitants,  at 
the  head  of  which  stands  Stettin  with  91,000.  The  Pomeranians 
belong  mainly  to  the  old  Saxon  stock,  and  are,  as  a  rule,  tall, 
strong,  and  well-built.  They  somewhat  resemble  the  Scots  in 
theii'  cautious  and  persevering  character,  their  strong  theological 
bias  (which  perpetuates  the  existence  of  numerous  small  Protestant 
sects),  and  their  turn  for  dry  humour ;  but  they  are  by  no  means  so 
enterprising  or  so  open  to  new  ideas.  In  1883  only  0'32  per  cent 
of  the  Pomeranian  recruits  were  illiterate,  a  fact  which  speaks  well 
for  the  educational  system  of  the  province.  There  is  a  university 
at  Greifswald.  Tlie  province  sends  16  members  to  the  reichstag  and 
26  to  the  Prussian  house  of  representativ,es.  'The  heir-presumptive 
of  the  Prussian  crown  bears  the  title  'of  governor  of  Pomerania. 

History. — In  prehistoric  times  the  southern  coast  of  the  Baltic 
seems  to  have  been  occupied  by  Celts,  who  afterwards  made  way 
for  tribes  of  Teutonic  stock.  These  in  their  turn  migrated  to  other 
settlements  and  were  replaced,  about  the  beginning  of  the  6th 
century  of  our  era,  by  Slavonians.  I'he  name  of  Pomore  or 
Pommern,  meaning  "  on  the  sea,"  was  attached  to  the  district  by 
the  last  of  these  immigrant  races,  and  has  often  changed  its  political 
and  geographical  significance.  Originally  it  seems  to  have  denoted 
the  coast  district  between  the  Oder  and  the  Vistula,  a  territory 
which  was  at  first  more  or  less  dependent  on  Poland,  but  which 
appears  towards  the  end  of  the  12th  centui-y  as  divided  between 
two  native  dukes  owning  the  supremacy  of  the  German  emperor. 
Afterwards  Pomerania  spread  much  farther  to  the  west,  while 
correspondingly  curtailed  on  the  cast,  and  a  distinction  was  mada 
between  Slavinia,  or  modern  Pomerania,  and  Pomcrellen.  The 
latter,  corresponding  substantially  to  the  present  province  of  West 


POM-POM 


443 


Prussia,  remained  subject  to  Poland  down  to  the  beginning  of  tbe 
14th  century,  when  part  of  it  fell  .away  to  the  Teutonic  knights 
and  part  of  it  was  annexed  to  the  duchy  of  Pomerania-Wolgast. 
Christianity  was  introduced  in  the  12th  century,  and  its  advance 
went  hand  in  hand  with  the  Germanizing  of  the  district  The  later 
mediaeval  history  of  Pomerania  is  occupied  with  au  endless  succes- 
sion of  subdivisions  among  different  lines  of  the  ducal  houses,  and 
with  numerous  expansions,  and  contractions  of  territory  through 
constant  hostilities  with  the  elector  of  Brandenburg,  who  claimed 
to  be  the  immediate  feudal  superior  of  Pomerania,  and  with  other 
neighbouring  powers.  The  names  Vorpommern  and  Hinterpcai- 
inern  were  at  first  synonymous  with  Slavinia  and  Pomerellen,  but 
towards  the  close  of  the  14th  century  they  were  transferred  to  the 
two  duchies  into  which  the  former  (Pomerania  proper)  was  divided. 
In  1625  the  whole  of  Pomerania  became  united  under  the  sway  of 
Bogcslaus  XIV.,  and,  on  his  death  without  issue  in  1637,  Branden- 
burg laid  claim  to  the  duchy  in  virtue  of  a  compact  of  1571.  The 
Swedes,  however,  had  in  the  meantime  occupied  the  country,  and 
at  the  peace  of  Westphalia  (1648)  the  elector  had  to  content  him- 
self with  East  Pomerania  and  see  the  other  half  awarded  to  Sweden. 
In  1720  Swedish  Pomerania  was  curtailed  by  extensive  concessions 
to  Prussia,  but  the  district  to  the  west  of  the  Peene  remained  in 
possession  of  Sweden  down  to  the  dissolution  of  tho  German  empire. 
On  the  downfall  of  Napoleon,  Sweden  assigned  her  German  pos- 
sessions to  Denmark  in  exchange  for  Norway,  whereupon  Prussia, 
partly  by  purchase  and  partly  by  the  cession  of  Lauenourg,  finally 
succeeded  in  uniting  the  \vftole  of  Pomerania  under  her  sway. 

POMEROY,  a  city  of  the  United  States,  in  Meigs 
county,  Oliio,  lies  on  the  right  bank  of  tho  Ohio  about 
half-way  between  Pittsburgh  and  Cincinnati.  It  is  the 
terminus  of  the  Ohio  River  division  of  the  Columbus, 
Hocking  Valley,  and  Toledo  Railway,  end  has  extensive 
coal-mines  dating  from  1833,  salt  works  (14,000,000 
bushels  per  annum),  and  bromine  factories.  Incorporated 
as  a  village  in  1841  and  as  a  city  in  1868,  Pomeroy  had 
5824  inhabitants  in  1870  and  5560  in  1880. 

POMFRET,  John  (1667-1703),  holds  a  certain  place 
in  English  letters  as  the  author  of  a  short  poem.  The 
Choice,  which  embodies  in  easy  and  happy  Drydenic 
diction  the  refined  Epicureanism  of  the  18th  century,  and 
was  consequently  widely  popular  throughout  that  century. 
Pomfret  wa.s  an  English  clergyman,  rector  of  Maulden  in 
Bedfordshire,  son  of  the  vicar  of  Luton  in  the  same 
county.  The  story  is  preserved  by  Johnson  that  tho 
bishop  of  London  stopped  him  in  some  church  preferment 
because  in  his  Choice  he  declared  that  he  would  have  no 
wife,  although  he  expressed  a  wish  for  the  occasional 
company  of  a  modebt  and  sprightly  young  lady.  Tho 
poet  was  married  in  real  life  all  the  same,  and,  while  wait- 
ing in  London  to  clear  up  a  misunderstanding  caused  by 
the  paganism  of  his  poetry — the  bishop  apparently  think- 
ing that  he  had  openly  preferred  a  mistress  to  a  wife — ho 
caught  small-pox  and  died  at  the  age  of  thirty-five.  Of 
his  poetry  Johnson  happily  says,  ''  He  pleases  many ;  and 
he  who  pleases  many  must  have  some  species  of  merit." 

POMONA,  the  old  Roman  goddess  of  tree-fruits 
ipoma).  Ovid  {Met.,  xiv.  623  sq.)  tells  how  she  was  loved 
by  the  silvan  deities,  the  satyrs,  pan.s,  <fcc.,  and  how 
Vertumnus,  god  of  the  turning  year,  wooed  and  won  the 
shy  goddess.  Corresponding  to  Pomona  there  seems  to 
have  been  a  male  Italian  deity  called  Puemunus,  who  was 
perhaps  identical  with  Vertumnus.  At  Rome  Pomona  had 
a  special  priest,  the  flamen  Pomonalis,  who  ranked  lowest 
among  the  fifteen  flamens.  About  12  miles  from  Rome  on 
the  way  to  Ostia  there  was  a  Pomonal,  or  place  (perhaps 
grove)  sacred  to  Pomona.  She  was  also  worshioped  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Amiternum. 

POMPADOUR,  Jeanne  Antoinette  Poisson  le  Noe- 
MANT  D'foioLES,  Mauquise  de  (1721-1764),  tho  most 
famous  of  all  the  mistresses  of  Louis  XV.,  was  born  in 
Paris  on  29th  December  1721,  and  was  baptized  as  the 
legitimate  daughter  of  Franyois  Poisson,  an  otRcer  in  the 
household  of  tho  duke  of  Orleans,  and  his  wife  Madeleine 
de  la  Motte,  in  the  church  of  St  Eustache,  but  she  was 
euapocted,  as  well  as  her. brother,  afterwards  marquis  of 


ifarigny,  to  bo  the  child  of  a  very  wealthy  financier,  and 
farmer-general  of  the  revenues,  Le  Norraant  de  Tourne- 
hem.  He  at  any  rate  took  upon  himself  the  charge  of 
her  education  ;  and,  as  from  the  beauty  and  wit  she.showa  1 
from  childhood  she  seemed  to  be  born  for  some  uncommon 
destiny,  he  declared  her  "un  morccau  de  roi,"  and  specially 
educated  her  to  be  a  king's  mistress.  This  idea  was  con- 
firmed in  her  childish  mind  by  the  prophecy  of  an  old 
woman, Tvhom  in  after  days  she  pensioned  for  the  correctness 
of  her  prediction.  In  1741  she  was  married  to  a  nephew 
of  her  protector  and  guardian,  Le  Normant  d'fitioles,  who 
was  passionately  in  love  with  her,  and  soon  became  a  queen 
of  fashion.  Yet  the  world  of  the  financiers  at  Paris  was 
far  apart  from  the  court  world,  where  she  wished  to  reign; 
she  could  get  no  introduction  at  court,  and  could  only  try 
to  catch  the  king's  eye  when  he  went  out  hunting  But 
Louis  XV.  was  then  under  the  influence  of  JIadame  de 
Mailly,  who  carefully  prevented  any  further  intimacy  with 
"la  petite  £tioIes,"  and  it  was  not  until  after  her  death 
that  the  king  met  the  fair  queen  of  the  financial  world  of 
Paris  at  a  ball  given  by  the  city  to  the  dauphin  in  1744, 
and  he  was  immediately  subjugated.  She  at  once  gave  up 
her  husband,  and  in  1745  was  established  at  Versailles  as 
"  maitresse  en  titre."  Louis  XV.  bought  her  the  estate  of 
Pompadour,  from  which  she  took  her  title  of  marquise. 
She  was  hardly  established  firmly  in  power  before  she 
showed  that  ambition  rather  than  love  had  guided  her, 
and  began  to  mix  in  politics.  Knowing  that  the  French 
people  of  that  time  were  ruled  by  the  literary  kings  of  the 
time,  she  paid  court  to  them,  and  tried  to  play  tho  part  of  a 
Maecenas.  Voltaire  was  her  poet  in  chief,  and  the  founder 
of  the  physiocrats,  Quesnay,  was  her  physician.  In  the 
arts  she  was  even  more  successful ;  she  was  herself  no  mean 
etcher  and  engraver,  and  she  encouraged  and  protected 
Vanloo,  Boucher,  Vien,  Greuze,  and  the  engraver  Jacques 
Quay.  Yet  this  policy  did  not  prevent  her  from  being 
lampooned,  and  the  famous  Poissardes  against  her  contri- 
buted to  the  ruin  qf  many  wits  suspected  of  being  among 
the  authors,  and  notably  of  the  Corate  de  Jlaurepas.  The 
command  of  the  political  situation  passed  entirely  into  her 
hands  ;  she  it  was  who  brought  Belle-Isle  into  office  with 
his  vigorous  policy;  she  corresponded  regularly  with  the 
generals  of  the  armies  in  the  field,  as  her  recently  published 
letters  to  the  Comte  de  Clermont  prove ;  and  she  intro- 
duced the  Abb6  de  Bernis  into  the  ministry  in  order  to 
effect  a  very  great  alteration  of  French  politics  in  1756. 
The  continuous  policy  of  France  since  the  days  of  Richelieu 
had  been  to  weaken  the  house  of  Austria  by  alliances  in 
Germany;  but  Madame  de  Pompadour  changed  this  here- 
ditary policy  because  Frederick  the  Great  wrote  scandalous 
verses  on  her ;  and  because  Maria  Theresa  wrote  her  a 
friendly  letter  she  entered  into  an  alliance,  with  Austria. 
This  alliance  brought  on  tho  Seven  Years'  War  with  all  its 
disasters,  the  battle  of  Rosbach  and  the  loss  of  Canada ; 
but  Madame  do  Pompadour  persisted  in  her  policy,  and 
when  Bernis  failed  her,  brought  Choiseul  into  office,  and 
supported  him  in  all  his  great  plans,  tho  Facte  do  Faniille, 
the  suppression  of  tho  Jesuits,  and  tho  peace  of  Versailles. 
But  it  was  to  internal  politics  that  this  remarkable  woman 
paid  most  attention  ;  no  one  obtained  office  except  through 
her ;  in  imitation  of  ftfadarao  do  Maintcnon  she  prepared 
all  business  for  tho  king's  eye  with  the  ministers,  and  con- 
trived that  they  should  meet  in  her  room ;  and  she  daily 
examined  the  letters  sent  through  the  post  oflico  with 
Janelle,  the  director  of  the  post  office.  By  this  continuous 
labour  she  made  herself  indispensable  to  iMxxa.  Y'et, 
when  she  had  lost  the  heart  of  her  lover  after  a  year  or  two, 
she  had  a  difficult  task  before  her  ;  to  maintain  her  influ- 
ence she  had  not  only  to  save  the  king  as  much  trouble  as 
possible,  but  to  find  him  fresh  pleasures     When  ho  first 


444 


P  0  ]M  —  P  O  M 


began  to  weary  of  her,  she  remembered  her  talent  for 
acting  and  her  private  theatricals  at  Etioles,  and  estab- 
lished the  "  theatre  des  petits  cabinets,"  in  which  she  acted 
with  the  greatest  lords  about  the  court  for  the  king's 
pleasure  in  tragedies  and  comedies,  operas  and  ballets. 
By  this  means  and  the  "  concerts  spirituels  "  she  kept  in 
favour  for  a  time ;  but  at  last  she  found  a  surer  way,  by 
encouraging  the  king  in  his  debaucheries,  and  Louis  wept 
over  her  kindness  to  his  various  mistresses.  Only  once, 
when  the  king  was  wounded  by  Damiens  in  1757,  did  she 
receive  a  serious  shock,  and  momentvily  left  the  court ; 
but  on  his  recovery  she  returned  more  powerful  than  ever. 
She  even  ingratiated  herself  with  the  queen,  after  the 
example  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  was  made  a  lady- 
in-waiting;  but  the  end  was  soon  to  come.  "Ma  vie  est 
un  combat,"  she  said,  and  so  it  was,  with  business  and 
pleasure';  she  gradually  grew  weaker  and  weaker,  and 
when  told  that  death  was  at  hand  she  dressed  herself  in 
full  court  costume,  and  met  it  bravely  on  15th  April  1764 
at  the  age  of  forty-two. 

See  Capeflffue,  Madame  la  Marijuise  de  Pompadour^  1858;  E.  and  J.  de  Gon- 
court,  i«j  itailreises  de  Louis  XV.,  vol.  li.,  18S0;  and  Campardon,  Madame  de 
Pompadour  el  la  Cour  de  Louis  XV.  au  milieu  du  dix-huiliime  siicle,  1867.  Far 
move  vaiuable  aie  filalassis's  two  recently  published  volumes  of  coirespondence, 
Correspondante  de  Madame  de  Pompadour  arec  son  pere  M.  Poisson,  et  stm  frere 
M.  de  Vandiires,  <tc.,  1S78,  and  Bonhomme,  Madame  de  Pompadour,  general 
darme'e,  16S0,  conlaining  her  letters  to  the  Comte  de  Clermont.  For  her  ailislic 
and  theatiical  tastes  see  particuiai-ly  J.  F.  Leturcq,  Notice  sur  Jacques  Guait, 
Oraveur  sur  pierres  fines  du  Rci  Louis  XV.:  Documents  inedils  emanaru  de  Guay 
et  notes  sur  les  auvres  de  grarure  en  taiUe  douce  et  en  pierres  durs  de  la  Marquise 
de  Pompadour,  1873;  and  Adolphe  Jullien,  Histoire  du  Theatre  da  Madams  de 
Pompadour,  dil  Theatre  des  Peltls  Cabinets,  1874. 

POMPEII,  an  ancient  town  of  Campania,  situated  on 
the  shore  of  the  Bay  of  Naples,  almost  immediately  at  the 
foot  of  Mount  Vesuvius.     To  its  proximity  to  that  volcano 
it  owes  its  celebrity, — the  peculiar  circumstances  of  its 
destruction  by  the  great  volcanic  outburst  of  Vesuvius  in 
79  A.D.,  and  of  its  rediscovery  in  modern  times,  having 
converted  that  which  would  otherwise  have  been  known 
only  as  an  obscure  country  town  into  a  place  of  world-wide 
fame,  as  one  of  the  most  interesting  relics  preserved  to  us 
from  antiquity.     Of  its   previous  history   comparatively 
little  is  recorded,  but  it  appears  that,  like  most  other  towns 
in'  the  beautiful  region  in  which  it  was  situated,  it  had  a 
population  of  a  very  mixed  character,  and  it  passed  succes- 
sively into  the  hands  of  several  different  nations,  each  of 
which  probably  contributed  an  additional  element  to  its 
composition.     Though    its    foundation   was  ascribed   by 
Greek  tradition  to  Heracles,  in  common  with  the  neigh- 
bouring city  of  Herculaneum,  no  value  can  be  attached  to 
these   mythological  or  etymological  fables;   it  is  certain 
that  it  was  not  a  Greek  colony,  in  the  prpper  ^ense  of  the 
term,  as  we  know  to  have  been  the  case  with  the  more 
important   cities    of   Cumse   and    Xeapolis.      Strabo,  in 
whose  time  it  was  a  populous  and  flourishing  place,  tells 
us  that  it  was  first  occupied  by  the  Oscans,  afterwards 
by'the  Tyrrhenians  (i.e.,  Etruscans)  and  Pelasgians,  and 
lastly,  by  the  Samnites.     The  conquest  of  Campania  by 
the  last-mentioned  people  is  an  undoubted  hisU)rical  fact, 
and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Pompeii  shared  the  fate  of 
the  neighbouring  cities  on  this  occasion,  and  afterwards 
passed  in  common  with  them  under  the  yoke  of  Rome. 
But  its  name  is  only  once  mentioned  during  the  wars  of 
the  Romans  with  the  Samnites  and  Campanians  in  this 
region  of  Italy,  and  then  only  incidentally  (Liv.,  ix.  38). 
At  a  later  period,  ho  vever,  it  took  a  prominent  part  in  the 
outbreak   of  the  nations   of  central  Italy  known  as  the 
Social  War  (91-89  b.c),  when  it  withstood  a  long  siege 
by  Sulla,  and  was  one  •  of  the  last  cities  of  Campania  that 
was  reduced  by  the  Roman  arms.     After  that  event  the 
inhabitants  were  admitted  to  the  Roman  franchise,  but  a 
military  colony  was  settled  in  their  territory  by  the  dictator 
Sulla,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  whole  popula- 
tion became  rapidly  Romanized.     Before  the  close  of  the 


republic  it  became  a  favourite  resort  of  the  leading  nobles 
of  Rome,  many  of  whom  acquired  villas  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. Among  the  most  prominent  of  these  was  Cicero, 
whose  letters  abound  with  allusions  to  his  Pompeian  villa, 
which  was  one  of  his  favourite  pldces  of  occasional  resid- 
ence. The  same  fashion  continued  under  the  Roman 
empire,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  during  the  first 
century  after  the  Christian  era,  Pompeii,  without  rising 
above  the  rank  of  an  ordinary  provincial  town,  had  become 
a  flourishing  place  with  a  considerable  population,  for 
which  it  was  indebted  in  part  to  its  position  at  the  mouth 
of  the  river  Sarnus,  which  rendered  it  the  port  of  the 
neighbouring  towns  in  the  interior.  But  two  events  only 
are  recorded  of  its  history  during  this  period.  In  59  a.d. 
a  tumult  took  place  in  the  amphitheatre  of  Pompeii 
between  the  citizens  of  the  place  and  the  visitors  from  the 
neighbouring  colony  of  Nuceria,  which  led  to  a  violent 
affray,  in  which  many  persons  were  killed  and  wounded 
on  both  sides.  The  Pompeians  were  punished  for  this 
violent  outbreak  by  the  prohibition  of  all  gladiatorial  and 
theatrical  exhibitions  for  ten  years  (Tacitus,  Attn.  xiv. 
17).  A  characteristic,  though  rude,  painting,  found  on 
the  walls  of  one  of  the  houses,  gives  a  representation  of 
this  untoward  event. 

Only  four  years  afterwards  (63  a.d.)  a  much  more 
serious  disaster  befell  the  city.  An  earthquake,  which 
affected  all  the  neighbouring  towns,  vented  its  force 
especially  upon  Pompeii,  a  large  part  of  which,  including 
most  of  the  public  buildings,  was  either  destroyed  or  so 
seriously  damaged  as  to  require  to  be  rebuilt  rather  than 
repaired  (Tacit.,  Attn.,  xv.  21 ;  Seneca,  Q.  iV.,  vi.  1).  The 
actual  amount  of  the  injuries  sustained,  which  is  intimated 
in  general  terms  by  Tacitus  and  Seneca,  is  more  accurately 
known  to  us  from  the  existing  remains.  For  the  inhabi- 
tants Were  still  actively  engaged  in  repairing  and  restoring 
the  ruined  edifices  when  the  whole  city  was  overwhelmed 
by  a  much  more  appalling  catastrophe.  In  79  a.d.  the 
neighbouring  mountain  of  Vesuvius,  the  volcanic  forces  of 
which  had  been  slumbering  for  unknown  ages,  suddenly 
burst  into  a  violent  eruption,  which,  while  it  carried 
devastation  all  around  the  beautiful  gulf,  buried  the  two 
cities  of  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii  under  dense  beds  of 
cinders  and  ashes.  It  is  singular  that,  while  we  possess  a 
detailed  description  of  this  famous  eruption  in  two  well- 
known  letters  of  the  younger  Pliny  {Epist.  vi.  16,  20),  he 
does  not  even  notice  the  destruction  of  Pompeii  or 
Herculaneum,  though  his  uncle  perished  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  the  former  city.  But  their  unhappy 
fate  is  noticed  by  Dion  Cassias,  and  its  circumstances 
may  be  gathered  with  certainty  from  the  condition  in 
which  it  has  been  found.  These  were  such  as  eminently 
to  conduce  to  its  preservation  and  interest  as  a  relic  of 
antiquity.  Pompeii,  was  not,  like  Herculaneum,  buried 
in  a  solid  mass  of  volcanic  tuff,  but  merely  covered  with  a 
bed  of  lighter  substances,  cinders,  small  stones,  and  ashes, 
thrown  out  by  the  yolcano,  and  falling  from  above  on  the 
devoted  city.  It  is  clearly  estabhshed  that  the  whole  of 
this  superincumbent  mass,  though  attaining  to  an  average 
thickness^ of  f-om  18  to  20  feet,  was  the  product  of  one 
eruption, — though  the  materials  may  be  divided  generally 
into  two  distinct  strata,  the  one  consisting  principally  of 
cinders  and  small  volcanic  stones  (called  in  Italian 
"  lapilli "),  and  the  other  and  uppermost  layer  of  fine  white 
ash,  oft«n  consolidated  by  the  action  of  water  from  above, 
so  as  to  take  the  moulds  of  objects  contained  in  it  like 
clay  or  plaster  of  Paris. 

So  completely  was  the  unfortunate  city  buried  under 
this  overwhelming  mass  that  its  very  site  was  forgotten, 
and  even  the  celebrated  topographer  Cluverius  in  the  17th 
century  was  unable  to  fix  it  with  certainty.     This  difficulty 


POMPEII 


445 


arose  in  part  from  the  physical  changes  consequent  on  the 
eruption,  and  it  was  not  till  1748  that  an  accidental  dis- 
covery drew  attention  to  its  remains,  and  revealed  the  fact 
that  beneath  the  vineyards  and  mulberry  grounds  which 
covered  the  site  there  lay  entombed  the  ruins  of  a  city,  far 
more  accessible,  if  not  more  interesting,  than  those  (pre- 
viously discovered)  of  the  neighbouring  Herculaneum.  It 
was  not  till  1755  that  systematic  excavations  on  the  site 
were  begun,  and,  though  they  were  thenceforth  carried  on 
more  or  less  continuously  during  the  whole  of  that  century, 
it  was  t»ot  till  the  beginning  of  the  present  century  that 
they  assumed  a  regular  character ;  and  the  work,  which 
had  received  a  vigorous  stimulus  during  the  period  of  the 
French  government  (1806-1814),  was  prosecuted,  though 
in  a  less  methodical  and  systematic  manner,  under  the  suc- 
ceeding rule  of  the  Bourbon  kings  (1815-61).  Of  late  years 
the  process  has  been  carried  on,  under  the  enlightened 
direction  of  Signior  Fiorelli,  in  a  much  more  careful  and 
scientific  manner  than  before,  and  the  results  have  been  in 
many  respects  of  the  highest  interest.  At  the  same  time 
the  invention  of  photography  has  enabled  the  directors  to 
preserve  a  far  more  satisfactory  record  of  every  step  in  the 
explorations  than  could  previously  be  attempted. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  us  to  present  our  readers  in 
this  place  with  anything  like  an  idea  of  the  results  of  these 
excavations.  Interesting  as  are  the  numerous  works  of 
art  that  have  been  brought  to  light,  and  important  as  is 
their  bearing  upon  the  history  of  some  branches  of  ancient 
art,  they  cannot  dbmpare  in  interest  with  the  flood  of  light 
which  this  marvellous  discovery  has  throv/n  upon  ancient 
life  in  all  its  details,  enabling  us  to  picture  to  ourselves 
the  ways  and  manners  and  habits  of  life  of  a  cultivated  and 
flourishing  population  eighteen  centuries  ago,  in  a  manner 
which  no  amount  of  study  of  ancient  literature  could  pos- 
sibly accomplish.  We  must  confine  ourselves  in  the  present 
article  chiefly  to  those  points  which  bear  more  immediately 
on  the  topography  and  character  of  the  town  of  Pompeii, 
referring  our  readers  for  other  details  to  the  numerous  works. 
in  which  they  have  been  described  and  delineated. 

The  town  was  situated  on  a  rising  ground  of  small 
elevation,  separated  by  a  distance  of  less  than  a  mile  from 
the  foot  of  the  actual  rise  of  the  outer  cone  of  Vesuvius. 
This  eminence  is  itself  undoubtedly  due  to  an  outflow  pf 
lava  from  that  mountain,  during  some  previous  eruption 
in  prehistoric  times,  for  we  know  from  Strabo  that 
Vesuvius,  though  presenting  in  his  time  all  the  appearances 
of  an  extinct  volcano,  had  been  quiescent  ever  since  the 
first  records  of  the  Greek  settlements  in  this  part  of  Italy. 
But  the  position  of  Fompeii  in  ancient  times  differed 
materially  from  that  which  it  occupies  at  tho  present  day. 
It  was  situated  close  to  the  sea-shore,  from  which  it  is  now 
more  than  a  mile  distant,  and  adjoining  the  mouth  of  the 
river  Sarnus  or  Sarno,  which  now  enters  tho  sea  nearly 
two  miles  from  its  site,  but  tho  present  course  of  this 
stream  is  duo  in  part  to  modern  alteration  of  its  channel, 
as  well  as  to  the  effects  of  tho  great  eruption.  It  is 
certain,  however,  that  in  Strabo's  time  Pompeii  owed 
much  of  its  prosperity  to  its  serving  as  tho  port  of  tho 
adjoining  plain,  and  tlie  neighbouring  towns  of  Nuceria, 
Nola,  and  Acerra;  (Strabo,  v.  c.  4,  §  8). 

Tho  area  occupied  by  the  ancient  city  v/as  of  an 
irregular  oval  form,  and  about  two  miles  in  circumference. 
It  was  surrounded  by  a  wall,  which  is  still  preserved 
around  more  than  two-thirds  of  its  extent,  but  no  traces 
of  this  are  found  on  the  side  towards  tho  £ea,  and  there  is 
no  doubt  that  on  this  side  it  had  been  already  demolished 
in  ancient  times,  so  as  to  give  room  for  tho  free  extension 
of  houses  and  other  buildings  in  that  direction.  These 
walls  arc  strengthened  at  intervals  by  numerous  towers, 
which  occur  in  some  parts  at  a  distance  of  only  about  100 


yards,  but  in  genera!  much  less  frequently.  They  are, 
however,  of  a  different  style  of  consti  action  from  tho 
walls,  and  appear  to  have  been  added  at  a  later  period, 
probably  that  of  the  settlement  of  the  Pioman  colony  by 
Sulla.  Similar  evidences  of  the  addition  of  subsequent 
defences  are  to  be  traced  also  in  tho  case  of  the  gates,  of 
which  no  less  than  eight  are  found  in  the  existing  circuit 
of  the  walls.  Some  of  these  present  a  very  elaborate 
system  of  defence,  but  it  is  evident  from  the  decayed  con- 
dition of  others,  as  well  as  of  parts  of  the  walls  and  towers, 
that  they  had  ceased  to  be  maintained  for  the  purposes  of 
fortification  long  before  the  destruction  of  the  city.  The 
gates  are  now  known  by  names  given  them  in  modern 
times  from  the  direction  in  which  they  led,  as,  the  gate  of 
Herculaneum,  of  Stabise,  of  Nola,  &c.  No  trace  has  been 
found  of  their  ancient  appellations. 

The  general  plan  of  the  town  is  very  regular,  the  streets 
being  generally  straight,  and  crossing  one  another  at  right 
angles  or  nearly  so.  But  an  exception  is  found  in  the 
street  leading  from  the  gate  of  Herculaneum  to  the  forum, 
which,  though  it  must  have  been  one  of  the  principal 
thoroughfares  in  the  city,  was  crooked  and  irregular,  as 
well  as  very  narrow,  in  some  parts  not  exceeding  12  to  14 
feet  in  width,  including  the  raised  trottoirs  or  footpaths  on 
each  side,  which  occupy  a  considerable  part  of  the  space, 
so  that  the  carriage-way  could  only  have  admitted  of  tho 
passage  of  one  vehicle  at  a  time.  The  other  streets  are 
in  some  cases  broader,  but  rarely  exceed  20  feet  in  width, 
and  the  broadest  yet  found  is  less  than  30,  while  the 
back  streets  running  parallel  to  the  main  lines  are  only 
about  15  feet.  They  are  uniformly  paved  with  largo 
polygonal  blocks  of  hard  basaltic  lava,  fitted  very  closely 
together,  though  now  in  many  cases  marked  with  deep 
ruts  from  the  passage  of  vehicles  in  ancient  times.  They 
are  also  in  all  cases  bordered  by  raised  trottoirs  on  both 
sides,  paved  in  a  similar  manner;  and  for  the  convenience 
of  foot  passengers,  these  are  connected  from  place  to  place 
by  stepping-stones  raised  above  the  level  of  the  carriage- 
way. Such  an  arrangement  must  have  presented  a  con- 
siderable obstacle  to  the  passage  of  vehicles ;  and  altogether 
it  is  evident  that  the  streets  of  Pompeii,  like  those  of 
most  Roman  towns,  were  calculated  much  more  for  foot 
passengers  than  for  any  extensive  traffic  of  wheeled 
carriages.  In  other  respects  they  must  have  been  far  from 
presenting  the  lively  aspect  of  the  streets  of  modern  and 
even  mediicval  towns,  and  must  rather  have  resembled 
those  of  Oriental  cities, — tho  living  apartments  all  opening 
towards  the  interior,  and  showing  only  blank  walls  towards 
tho  street ;  while  the  windows  were  generally  to  bo  found 
only  in  the  upper  story,  and  were  in  all  cases  small  and 
insignificant,  without  any  attempt  at  architectural  effect. 
In  some  instances  indeed  the  monotony  of  their  external 
appearance  was  broken  by  small  shops,  occupying  the  front 
of  the  principal  houses,  as  it  were  let  in  to  tho  main  build- 
ing -,  these  were  in  some  cases  numerous  enough  to  form 
a  continuous /(/faJe  to  tho  street.  This  io  seen  especially 
in  tho  case  of  tho  Street  of  Herculaneum,  and  that  of 
Stabio:,  both  of  which  were  among  tho  principal  and  most 
frequented  thoroughfares. 

The  former  of  these  main  lines  of  street,  which,  as 
already  described,  led  from  the  gate  of  Herculaneum  to 
the  forum,  was  crossed,  a  little  before  it  reached  that 
important  centre,  by  a  long  straight  lino  of  street,  which 
led  directly  to  the  gate  of  Nola.  Two  other  parallel  lines 
of  street  struck  off  from  the  forum  itself  towards  the  cast, 
and  these  have  been  followed  as  far  as  tho  points  where 
they  cross  nearly  at  right  angles  another  main  lin'o  of 
etreet,  which  leads  direct  from  the  gate  of  Vcauvius  to 
that  of  StabiK,  near  the  theatres,  thus  traversing  tho  city 
ia   its   whole  width   from  north   to  south.     Almost  the 


446 


POMPEII 


whole  portion  of  the  city  which  lies  to  the  west  of  this  last 
line,  towards  the  forum  and  the  sea,  has  been  more  or  less 
completely  excavated ;  but  the  greater  part  of  that  on  the 
other  side  of  it  remains  still  unexplored,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  amphitheatre,  and  a  small  space  in  its  imme- 
diate neighbourhood.  Altogether  it  may  be  calculated 
that  about  two-fifths  of  the  whole  extent  has  been  already 
excavated.  But  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  portion 
already  known  is  the  most  important,  as  it  includes  the 
forum,  with  the  temples  and  public  buddings  adjacent  to 
it,  the  thermK,  theatres,  amphitheatre,  &c. 

The  forum  was  unquestionably  at  Pompeii,  as  at  Rome 
itself,  and  in  all  other  Italian  cities,  the  focus  and  centre 
of  all  the  life  and  movement  of  the  city,  and  was  at  once 
the  resort  of  the  lounger  and  the  gathering  place  of  men 
of  business.     Hence  it  was  surrounded  on  all  sides  by 


public  buildings  or  edifices  of  a  commanding  characters 
It  was  not,  however,  of  large  size,  as  compared  to  the  open 
spaces  in  modern  towns,  bei"jg  only  160  yards  in  length 
by  35  in  breadth.  Nor  was  it  a  ceatre  of  traffic  in  the 
modern  sense  of  the  word,  being  only  accessible  to  any 
description  of  wheeled  carriages  at  one  angle,  and  the 
nature  of  its  pavement,  composed  of  broad  flags  of  traver- 
tine, excluding  the  idea  of  its  being  intended  for  their 
passage.  It  was  surrounded  cm  three  sides  by.  a  portico, 
or  rather  by  a  series  of  porticos,  some  supported  on 
arcades,  others  in  the  Grecian  manner  on  columns ;  and 
these  porticos  were  originally  surmounted  by  a  gallery  or 
upper  story,  traces  of  the  staircases  leading  to  which  still 
remain,  though  the  gallery  itself  has  altogether  dis- 
appeared. It  is,  however,  certain  from  the  existing 
remains  that  both  this  portico  and  the  adjacent  buildings 


Plan  of  Pompeii. 


A.  Gate  of  Herculaneami 

B.  Gate  of  Vesuvius. 

C.  Gate  of  Capua. 

D.  Gate  of  Nola. 

E.  Gate  of  Sarno. 


F.  Gate  of  Nocera. 

G.  Gate  of  Stabiaj. 

H.  Gate  of  tbe  Seashore. 
I.  Forum. 
J.  Temple  of  Jupiter. 


K.  Basilica. 

L.  Buildiugof  EumachlaC 

M.  '*  Pantiieon." 

N.  Temple  of  Hercules. 

0.  Great  Theatre. 


Chalcidkum"). 


P.  Smaller  Theatre. 

Q.  Gladiators'  Barrao&s. 

K,  Amphitheatre. 

S,  T,  U.  Public  Baths. 

V.  Temple  (Fortnna  Augusta). 


X.  Teinple  of  Venus. 

1.  House  of  Pansa. 

2.  House  of  Sol  lust 

3.  House  of  the  Faun. 

4.  Villa  of  Ai-ilus  Diomedea. 


had  suffered  severely  from  the  earthquake  of  63,  and  that 
they  were  undergoing  a  process  of  restoration,  involving 
material  changes  in  the  original  arrangements,  which  was 
still  incomplete  at  the  time  of  their  final  destruction. 

The  north  end  of  the  forum,  where  alone  the  portico  is 
wanting,  is  occupied  in  great  part  by  a  building,  the  most 
imposing  in  the  whole  city,  which  is  now  generally  known, 
on  grounds  that  may  be  considered  satisfactory,  as  the 
temple  of  Jupiter.  It  was  raised  on  a  podium  or  base 
of  considerable  elevation,  and  had  a  portico  with  six 
Corinthian  columns  in  front,  which,  according  to  Sir  TV. 
Gell,  are  nearly  as  large  as  those  in  the  portico  of  St 
Paul's.  This  magnificent  edifice  had,  however,  been 
evidently  overthrown  by  the  earthquake  of  63,  and  is  in 
its  present  condition  a  mere  ruin.  On  each  side  of  it 
■were  two  arches,  affording  an  entrance  into  the  forum, 
but  capable  of  being  closed  by  iron  gates.     The  principal 


of  these,  at  the  north-east  angle  of  the  forum,  was  the 
approach  by  which  that  open  space  was  entered  in  coming 
from  the  gate  of.  Herculaneum;  the  passage,  however, 
was  barred  to  wheeled  carriages  by  a  descent  of  three 
small  steps.  On  the  east  side  of  the  forum  were  four 
edifices,  all  of  them  unquestionably  of  a  public  character, 
but  of  which  the  names  and  attribution  have  been  the 
subject  of  much  controversy.  The  first  (proceeding  from 
the  north)  is  generally  known,  though  without  doubt 
erroneously,  as  the  Pantheon,  or  temple  of  the  Twelve 
Gods ;  but  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  it  is  a  temple  at 
all,  and  the  latest  authorities  are  disposed  to  regard  it  as 
a  macellum  or  meat-market,  though  the  situation  would 
seem  to  be  unhappily  chosen  for  such  a  purpose.  Next  to 
this  comes  a  building  generally  regarded  as  the  curia  or 
senaculum-^the  meeting-place  oY  the  local  senate,  or  town 
council.     Beyond  this   colics    another   temple   of  small 


POMPEII 


447 


dimensions  commonly  called  the  temple  of  Mercury,  but 
supposed  also,  on  very  slight  grounds,  to  have  been 
dedicated  to  Augustus ;  and  beyond  this  again,  bounded 
on  the  south  by  a  street  known  as  the  Street  of  the  Silver- 
smiths, is  a  large  and  spacious  edifice,  •srhich,  as  we  learn 
from  an  extant  inscription,  was  erected  by  a  priestess 
named  Eumachia.  Notwithstanding  this,  its  purpose  and 
character  are  open  to  considerable  doubt ;  but  it  resembles 
a  basilica  in  its  form  and  disposition,  and  was  probably 
designed  for  similar  purposes.  The  name  of  Chalcidicuni, 
by  which  it  is  commonly  known,  is  an  erroneous  inference 
from  the  inscription  just  referred  to.  The  south  end  of 
the  forum  is  occupied  by  three  small  buildings  of  very 
similar  form  and  arrangement,  which  are  supposed  to  have 
served  as  courts  of  law,  though  their  destination  is  a 
matter  of  much  uncertainty ;  while  the  greater  part  of  the 
west  side  is  occupied  by  two  large  buildings, — a  basilica, 
which,  is  the  largest  edifice  in  Pompeii,  and  a  temple, 
which  presents  its  side  to  the  forum,  and  hence  fills  up  a 
large  portion  of  the  surrounding  space.  The  former,  as 
we  learn  from  an  inscription  on  its  walls,  was  anterior  in 
date  to  the  consulship  of  M.  Lepidus  and  Q.  Catulus  (78 
B.C.),  and  therefore  belongs  to  the  Oscan  period  of  the 
city,  before  the  introduction  of  the  Roman  colony.  The 
temple  was  an  extensive  edifice,  having  a  comparatively 
small  cella,  raised  upon  a  podium.,  and  standing  in  the 
midst  of  a  wide  space  surrounded  by  a  portico  of  columns, 
outside  which  again  is  a  wall,  bounding  the  sacred 
enclosure.  It  is  commonly  called  the  temple  of  Venus, 
but  without  any  evidence ;  the  most  recent  authorities 
regard  it,  on  somewhat  better  grounds,  as  dedicated  to 
Apollo.  '  Between  this  temple  and  the  basilica  a  street  of 
anusual  width  leads  off  direct  to  the  gate  which  opens 
onwards  the  sea,  and  is  still  preserved,  though  the  walls 
on  this  side  of  the  city  have  ceased  to  exist. 

Besides  the  temples  which  surrounded  the  forum,  the 
remains  of  four  others  have  been  discovered,  three  of 
which  are  situated  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  the 
theatres.  Of  these  by  far  the  most  interesting,  though 
the  least  perfect,  is  one  which  is  commonly  known  as  the 
temple  of  Hercules  (an  appellation  wholly  witliout  founda- 
tion), and  which  is  not  only  by  far  the  most  ancient 
edifice  in  Pompeii,  but  presents  us  with  all  the  characters 
of  a  true  Greek  temple,  resembling  in  its  proportions  that 
of  Neptune  at  Psestum,  and  probably  of  as  remote  anti- 
quity. Unfortunately  only  the  basement  and  a  few 
capitals  and  other  architectural  fragments  remain,  and, 
though  these  suffice  to  enable  us  to  restore  its  plan  and 
design,  of  course  its  effect  as  a  monument  is  wholly  lost. 
The  period  of  its  destruction  is  unknown,  for  it  appears 
certain  that  it  cannot  be  ascribed  wholly  to  the  earthquake 
of  03.  On  the  other  hand  the  reverence  attached  to  it  in 
the  latec  periods  of  the  city  is  evidenced  by  its  being  left 
stancfing  in  the  midst  of  a  triangular  space  adjoining  the 
great  theatre,  which  is  surrounded  by  a  portico,  so  as  to. 
constitute  a  kind  of  forum,  though  scarcely  dcse-rving  that 
appellation.  In  the  im  mediate  neighbourhood  of  the 
preceding,  and  close  to  the  great  theatre,  6tood  a  small 
temple,  which,  as  we  learn  with  certainty  from  the  inscrip- 
tion still  remaining,  was  dedicated  to  fsis,  and  was 
restored,  or  rather  rebuilt,  by  a  certain  Popidius  Celsinus, 
after  the  original  edifice  had  been  reduced  to  ruin  by  the 
great  earthquake  of  03.  Though  of  small  size,  and  by  no 
means  remarkable  in  point  of  architecture,  it  is  interesting 
as  the  only  remaining  temple  dedicated  to  the  Egyptian 
goddess,  whose  worship  beramo  so  popular  under  the 
Uoman  empire.  There  is  nothing  peculiar  in  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  building  itself,  but  a  small  edifice  within  the 
aacred  enclosure,  to  which  nothing  similar  was  found  in 
eny  other  instance,  was  doubtless  in  some  way  connected 


with  the  peculiar  rites  of  the  mysterious  deity.  Close  to 
this  temple  was  another,  of  very  small  size,  and  of  little 
interest,  commonly  known  as  the  temple  of  .^sculapius, 
■  but  by  others  supposed  to  have  been  dedicated  to  Jupiter 
and  Juno.  No  real  foundation  exists  for  either  attribu- 
tion. More  considerable  and  important  was  a  temple 
which  stood  at  no  great  distance  from  the  forum,  at  the 
point  where  the  street  leading  thither  from  the  gate  of 
Herculaneum  was  crossed  by  the  vnde  line  of  thoroughfare 
leading  to  the  gate  of  Nola.  We  learn  from  an  inscription 
that  this  was  dedicated  to  the  Fortune  of  Augustus 
(Fortuna  Augusta),  and  was  erected,  wholly  at  his  own 
cost,  by  a  citizen  of  the  name  of  M.  Tullius,  unfortunately 
no  connexion  of  the  orator.  This  temple  appears  to  have 
suffered  very  severely  from  the  earthquake,  and  at  present 
affords  little  evidence  of  its  original  architectural  orna- 
ment;  but  we  learn  from  existing  remains  that  its  walls 
were  covered  with  slabs  of  marble,  and  that  the  colmuus 
of  the  portico  were  of  the  same  valuable  material. 

All  the  temples  above  described,  except  that  ascribed 
to  Hercules,  agree  in  being  raised  on  an  elevated  podiuhi 
or  basement, — an  arrangement  usual  with  all  similar  build- 
ings of  Roman  date.  Neither  their  materials  nor  the  style 
of  their  architecture  exceed  what  might  reasonably  Le 
expected  in  a  second-rate  provincial  town ;  and  the  san.e 
may  be  said  in  general  of  the  other  public  buildings. 
Among  these  tlie  most  conspicuous  are  the  theatres,  of 
which  there  were  two,  placed,  as  was  usual  in  Greek 
towns,  in  close  juxtaposition  with  one  another.  The 
largest  of  these,  which  was  partly  excavated  in  the  side  of 
the  hill,  was  a  building  of  considerable  magnificence,  being 
in  great  part  cased  with  marble,  and  furnished  with  seats 
of  the  same  material,  which  have,  however,  been  almost 
wholly  removed.  Its  internal  construction  and  arrange- 
ments resemble  those  of  the  Roman  theatres  in  general, 
though  with  some  peculiarities  that  show  Greek  influence, 
and  we  learn  from  an  inscription  that  it  was  erected  in 
Roman  times  by  two  members  of  the  same  family,  M. 
Holconius  Rufus  and  ?il.  Holconius  Celer,  both  of  whom 
held  important  municipal  ofiices  at  Pompeii  during  the 
reign  of  Augustus.  It  appears,  however,  from  a  careful 
examination  of  the  remains  that  their  work  was  only  a 
reconstruction  of  a  more  ancient  edifice,  the  foundations 
of  which,  and  some  other  portions,  may  be  distinctly 
traced.  The  smaller  theatre,  which  was  erected,  as  we 
learn  from  an  inscription,  by  two  magistrates  specially 
appointed  for  the  purpose  by  the  decurions  of  the  city, 
was  of  older  date  than  the  large  one,  and  appears  to  have 
been  constructed  about  the  same  time  as  the  amphi- 
theatre, soon  after  the  establishment  of  the  Roman  colony 
under  Sulla.  From  the  same  source  we  learn  that  it  was 
permanently  covered — a  rare  thing  with  Roman  theatres  ; 
but  in  the  case  of  the  larger  theatre  also  the  arrangements 
for  the  occasional  extension  of  an  awning  (vdm-ium)  over 
the  whole  are  distinctly  found.  Tlio  smaller  theatre  ia 
computed  to  have  been  capable  of  containing  fifteen 
hundred  spectators,  while  the  larger  could  accommodate 
five  thousand  persons. 

Adjoining  the  theatres  is  a  largo  rectangular  enclosure, 
surrounded  by  a  portico,  the  purpose  of  which  has  been 
the  subject  of  considerable  controversy,  but  it  is  now 
generally  admitted  to  have  been  the  quarters  or  barracks 
of  the  gladiators,  who  were  pcrmancBtly  maintained  in  tho 
city  with  u  view  to  tho  shows  in  the  amphitheatre.  It  is 
singular  that  it  should  have  been  at  so  considerable  u 
distance  from  that  building,  which  is  situated  at  the 
south-eastern  angle  of  the  town,  above  500  yards  from  tho 
theatres.  Tho  amphitheatre  was  erected  by  the  same  two 
magistrates  who  built  the  smaller  theatre,  at  a  period  vhon 
no  permanent   edifice   of  a   similar  kind  had   yet  betu 


448 


POMPEII 


erected  in  Rome  itself.  But  apart  from  its  early  date  it 
has  no  special  interest,  and  is  wholly  wanting  in  the  ex- 
ternal architectural  decorations  that  give  such  grandeur  of 
character  to  similar  edifices  in  other  instances.  Being  in 
great  part  excavated  in  the  surface  of  the  hill,  instead  of 
the  seats  being  raised  on  arches,  it  is  wanting  also  in  the 
picturesque  arched  corridors  which  contribute  so  much  to 
the  effect  of  those  other  ruins.  Nor  are  its  dimensions 
(430  feet  by  335)  such  as  to  place  it  in  the  first  rank  even 
of  provincial  structures  of  this  class,  though  it  may  still 
strike  a  visitor  of  the- present  day  as  surprisingly  large  for 
a  town  of  the  population  of  Pompeii.  But,  as  we  learn 
from  the  case  of  their  squabble  with  the  people  of  N  uceria, 
the  games  celebrated  in  the  amphitheatre  on  grand  occa- 
sions would  be  visited  by  large  numbers  from  the  neigh- 
bouring towns. 

Adjoining  the  amphitheatre  was  found  a  large  open 
Space,  nearly  square  in  form,  which  has  been  supposed  to 
be  a  forum  boarium  or  cattle  market,  but,  no  buildings  of 
interest  being  discovered  around  it,  the  excavation  was 
filled  up  again,  and  this  part  of  the  city  has  not  been  since 
examined. 

Among  the  more  important  public  buildings  of  Pompeii 
were  the  thermse,  or  public  baths,  an  institution  that 
always  held  a  prominent  position  in  every  Koman  or 
Graeco-Roman  town.  Three  different  establishments  of 
this  character  have  been  discovered,  of  which  the  first, 
excavated  in  1824,  was  for  a  long  time  the  only  one 
known.  Though  the  smallest  of  the  three,  it  is  in  some' 
respects  the  most  complete  and  interesting;  and  it  was 
until  of  late  years  the  principal  source  from  which  we 
derived  our  knowledge  of  this  important  branch  of  the 
economy  of  Roman  life.  The  vast  series  of  edifices  known 
by  the  name  of  thermoe  at  Rome,  as  well  as  those  in  other 
provincial  towns,  are  in  such  a  state  of  ruin  as  to  throw 
little  light  upon  the  details  of  their  arrangements.  At 
Pompeii  on  the  contrary  the  baths  are  so  well  preserved 
as  to  show  at  a  glance  the  purpose  of  all  the  different 
parts — while  they  are  among  the  most  richly  decorated  of 
all  the  buildings  in  the  city.  We  trace  without  difficulty 
all  the  separate  apartments  that  are  described  to  us  by 
Roman  authors — the  apodyterium",frigidarium,  tepidarimn, 
caldarium,  &c.,  together  with  the  apparatus  for  supplying 
both  water  and  heat,  the  places  for  depositing  the  bather's 
clothes,  and  other  minor  details  which  were  for  the  first 
time  revealed  to  us  by  the  discovery  of  these  interesting 
buildings.  It  is  obviously  impossible  for  us  in  this  place 
to  enter  into  a  detailed  description  of  these  arrangements, 
for  which  we  must  refer  our  readers  to  the  professed 
treatises  on  Roman  antiquities,  as  well  as  to  the  larger 
works  on  Pompeii  (see  also  Baths,  vol.  iii.  p.  435).  The 
greater  thermae,  which  were  not  discovered  till  1857,  nor 
fully  excavated  till  1860,  so  that  they  are  not  described  in 
the  earlier  works  on  the  subject,  are  on  a  much  more 
extensive  scale  than  the  others,  and  combine  with  the 
special  purposes  of  the  building  a"  palaestra  and  other 
apa^rtments  for  exercise  or  recreation.  The  arrangements 
of  the  baths  themselves  are,  however,  almost  similar  to 
those  of  the  lesser  thermae.  In  this  case  an  inscription 
records  the  repair  and  restoration  of  the  edifice  after  the 
earthquake'  of  63,  but  the  period  of  its  original  construc- 
tion is  unknown.  It  appears,  however,  that  these  two 
establishments  were  found  inadequate  to  supply  the  wants 
of  the  inhabitants,  and  a  third  edifice  of  the  same 
character,  but  on  a  still  more  extensive  scale,  was  in  course 
of  construction  when  the  town  was  overwhelmed.  The 
remains  of  this,  which  were  first  discovered  and  excavated 
in  1877,  are,  however,  of  comparatively  little  interest  from 
the  incomplete  state  in  which  the  buildings  were  left. 

Great  as  is  the  interest  attached  to  the  various  public 


buildings  of  Pompeii,  and  valuable  as  is  the  light  that  they 
have  in  sorp°,  instances  thrown  upon  similar  edifices  in 
other  ruined  cities,  far  more  curious  and  interesting  is  the 
insight  afforded  us  by  the  numerous  private  houses  and 
shops  into  the  ordinary  life  and  habits  of  the  population 
of  an  ancient  town.  In  this  respect  Pompeii  stands  alone, 
among  all  antiquarian  discoveries, — the  difliculties  of 
exploration  at  Herculaneum  having  greatly  checked  all 
further  investigations  on  that  equally  promising  site.  But 
here  again  it  is  impossible  in  an  article  like  the  present  to 
do  more  than  briefly  advert  to  the  general  results  of  the 
excavations  (compare  Architecture,  vol.  ii.  p.  420-21, 
and  PI.  XVII.).  The  houses  at  Pompeii  are  generally  low, 
rarely  exceeding  two  stories  in  height,  and  it  appears 
certain  that  the  upper  story  was  generally  of  a  slight 
construction,  and  occupied  by  small  rooms,  serving  as 
garrets,  or  sleeping  places  for  slaves,  and  perhaps  for  the 
females  of  the  famOy.  From  the  mode  of  destruction  of 
the  city  these  upper  floors  were  in  most  cases  crushed  in 
and  destroyed,  and  hence  it  was  long  believed  that  the 
houses  for  the  most  part  had  but  one  story ;  but  recent 
researches  have  in  many  cases  brought  to  light  incontest- 
able evidence  of  the  existence  of  an  upper  floor,  and  the 
frequent  occurrence  of  a  small  staircase  is  in  itself  sufficient 
proof  of  the  fact.  The  windows,  as  already  mentioned, 
were  generally  small  and  insignificant,  and  contributed 
nothing  to  the  external  decorallon  or  effect  of  the  houses. 
In  B«.me  cases  they  were  undoubtedly  closed^with  glass, 
but  its  use  appears  to  have  been  by  no  means  general. 
The  principal  Hving  rooms,  as  well,  as  those  intended  for 
the  reception  of  guests  or  clients,  were  all  on  the  ground 
floor,  the  centre  being  formed  by  the  atrium,  or  hall,  which 
was  almost  always  oj^en  above  to  the  air,  and  in  the  larger 
houses  was  generally  surrounded  with  columns.  Into  this 
opened  other  rooms,  the  entrances  to  which  seem  to  have 
been  rarely  protected  by  doors,  and  could  only  have  been 
closed  by  curtains,  All  the  apartments  and  arrangements 
described  by  Vitruvius  and  other  ancient  wTiters  may  be 
readily  traced  in  the  houses  of  Pompeii,  and  in  many 
instances  these  have  for  the  first  time  enabled  us  to  under- 
stand the  technical  terms  and  detaUs  transmitted  to  us  by 
Latin  authors.  We  must  not,  however,  hastily  assume 
that  the  examples  thus  preserved  to  us  by  a  singular 
accident  are  to  be  taken  as  representing  the  style  of  build- 
ing in  aU  the  Roman  and  Italian  towns.  We  know  from 
Cicero  that  Capua  was  remarkable  for  its  broad  streets 
and  wide-spread  buildings,  and  it  is  probable  that  the 
Campanian  towns  in  general  partook  of  the  same  character. 
At  Pompeii  indeed  the  streets  were  not  wide,  but  they 
were  straight  and  regular,  and  the  houses  of  the  better 
class  occupied  considerable  spaces,  presenting  in  this 
respect  no  doubt  a  striking  contrast,  not  only  with  those 
of  Rome  itself,  but  with  those  of  many  other  Italian  towns, 
where  the  buildings  would  necessarily  be  huddled  together 
from  the  circumstances  of  their  position.  Even  at  Pompeii 
itself,  on  the  west  side  of  the  city,  where  the  ground 
slopes  somewhat  steeply  towards  the  sea,  houses  are  found 
which  consisted  of  three  stories  or  more. 

The  excavations  systematically  conducted  for  many  years 
past  have  presented  us  with  examples  of  houses  of  every 
description,  from  the  humble  dwelling-place  of  the  artisan 
or  proletarian,  with  only  three  or  four  small  rooms,  to  the 
stately  mansions  of  Sallust  and  Pansa,^ — the  last  of  which 
is  the  most  regular  as  well  as  the  most  extensive  of  all, 

^  It  may  be  observed  that  the  names  given  ^ja  most  cases  to  the 
houses  are  either  arbitr.wy,  or  founded  in  the  first  instance  upon 
erroneous  inferences.  Hence  they  are  frequently  changed,  and  great 
confusion  arises  in  co'nsequence  in  comparing  the  different  works  on 
the  subject.  A  few  only  of  thv^  best  known  may  be  considered  aa 
established  by  long  usage,  among  which  are  the  two  here  referred  to. 


P  0  ]\I  P  E  1  I 


449 


and  may  be  taken  as  an  almost  perfect  model  of  a  com- 
plete Roman  house  of  a  superior  class.  But  the  general 
similarity  in  their  plan  and  arrangement  is  very  striking, 
and  in  all  those  that  rise  above  a  very  humble  class  the 
leading  divisions  of  the  interior,  the  atrmm,  (aUiniim, 
peristyle,  <tc.,  may  be  traced  with  unfailing  regularity. 
Another  peculiarity  that  is  found  in  all  the  more  consider- 
able houses  in  Pompeii  is  that  of  tlio  front,  where  it  faces 
one  of  the  principal  .streets,  being  occuiiied  with  shops, 
usually  of  small  size,  and  without  any  communication  with 
the  interior  of  the  mansion.  In  a  few  instances  indeed 
such  a  communication  is  found,  but  in  these  cases  it  is 
probable  that  the  shop  was  used  for  the  sale  of  articles 
grown  upon  the  estate  of  the  proprietor,  such  as  wine,  fruit, 
oil.  Arc,  a  practice  that  is  still  common  in  Italy.  In  general 
the  shop  had  a  very  small  apartment  behind  it,  and  pro- 
bably in  most  cases  a  sleeping  chamber  above  it,  though  of 
this  the  only  remaining  evidence  is  usually  a  portion  of  the 
staircase  that  led  to  this  upper  room.  The  front  of  the 
shop  was  open  to  the  street,  but  was  capable  of  being 
closed  with  wooden  shutters,  the  remains  of  which  have 
in  a  few  instances  been  preserved.  Of  course  it  is  only  in 
a  few  cases  that  the  particular  purpose  of  the  shop  or 
trade  of  its  owner  can  be  determined,  though,  from  the 
exceptional  manner  of  their  preservation,  this  can  be  done 
more  frequently  than  might  be  expected.  Thus  not  only 
have  the  shops  of  silversmiths  been  recognized  by  the 
precious  objects  of  that  metal  found  in  them,  but  large 
quantities  of  fruits  of  various  kinds  preserved  in  glass 
vessels,  various  descriptions  of  .corn  and  pulse,  loaves  of 
bread,  moulds  for  pastry,  fishing-nets,  and  many  other 
objects,  too  numerous  to  mention,  have  been  found  in  such 
a  condition  as  to  be  identified  without  difficulty.  Cooks' 
shops  appear  to  have  been  numerous,  as  well  as  thermo- 
polia,  where  hot  drinks  were  sold.  Bakers'  shops  arc  also 
frequent,  though  arrangements  for  grinding  and  baking 
appear  to  have  formed  part  of  every  large  family  establish- 
ment. In  other  eases,  however,  these  were  on  a  larger 
scale,  provided  with  numerous  querns  or  hand  mills  of  the 
well-known  form,  evidently  intended  for  public  supply. 
Another  establishment  on  a  large  scale  was  a,fullonica  or 
fuller's  shop,  where  all  the  details  of  the  business  were 
illustrated  by  paintings  still  visible  on  the  walls.  A  dyer's 
shop,  a  tannery,  and  a  shop  where  colours  were  ground 
and  manufactured — an  important'  business  where  almost 
all  the  rooms  of  every  house  wore  painted — are  of  special 
interest,  as  is  also  the  house  of  a  surgeon,  where 
numerous  surgical  instruments  were  found,  some  of  them 
of  a  very  ingenious  and  elaborate  description,  but  all  made 
of  bronze.  Another  curious  discovery  was  that  of  the 
abode  of  a  sculptor,  containing  his  tools,  as  well  as  blocks 
of  marble  and  half-finished  statues.  The  number  of 
utensils  of  various  kinds  found  in  the  houses  and  shops  is 
almost  endless,  and,  as  these  are  in  most  cases  of  bronze, 
they  arc  generally  in  perfect  preservation. 

Of  the  numerous  works  of  art  discovered  in  the  course 
of  the  excavations  the  statues  and  largo  works  of  sculpture, 
whether  in  marble  or  bronze,  are  inferior  to  those  found 
at  Herculaneum,  but  some  of  the  bronze  statuettes  are 
of  exquisite' workmanship,  while  the  profusion  of  orna- 
mental works  and  objects  in  bronze  and  the  elegance  of 
their  design,  as  well  as  the  finished  beauty  of  their  execu- 
tion, are  such  as  to  excite  the  utmost  admiration, — more 
especially  when  it  is  considered  that  these  are  the  casual 
results  of  the  examination  of  a  second-rate  ))rovincial 
town.  The  same  impression  is  produced  in  a  still  higher 
degree  by  the  paintings  with  which  the  wall.-  of  the  private 
liouses,  as  well  as  tho.sa  of  the  temples  and  other  public 
buildings,  are  adorned,  and  which  are  not  merely  of  a 
decorative  character,  but  in  many   instances  preaunt   us 


with  elaborate  compositions  of  figures,  historical  and 
mythological  scenes,  as  well  as  representations  of  the 
ordinary  life  and  manners  of  the  people,  which  are  full  of 
interest  to  us,  though  often  of  inferior  artistic  execution. 
An  illustration  of  the  character  of  the  Pompeian  wall- 
paintings  is  given  in  the  article  Mdral  Decoration, 
vol.  xvii.  p.  42,  fig.  8.  Our  knowledge  of  ancient  paint- 
ing is  indeed  derived  to  a  much  greater  extent  from 
Pompeii  than  from  all  other  sources  whatever ;  and,  when 
wecontemiilate  the  variety  and  beauty  of  what  we  find  here 
entombed,  we  cannot  but  ask  ourselves  what  would  have 
been  the  result  had  a  great  and  opulent  city  like  Capua  or 
Neajjolis  been  preserved  !  us  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
comparatively  insignificant  Pompeii.  The  same  character 
of  elaborate  decoration,  guided  almost  uniformly  by  good 
taste  and  artistic  feeling,  is  displayed  in  the  mosaic  pave- 
ments,  which  in  all  but  the  humbler  class  of  houses  fre- 
quently form  the  ornament  of  their  floors.  One  of  these, 
well  known  as  the  battle  of  Alexander,  presents  us  with  the 
most  striking  specimen  of  artistic  composition  that  has  been 
preserved  to  u;  from  antiquity  (see  Mosaic,  toL  xvi.  p,  851. 
where  part  of  this  composition  is  shown  in  fig.  2). 

The  architecture  of  Pompeii  must  be  regarded  as  present- 
ing in  general  a  transitional  character  from  the  pure  Greek 
stylo  to  that  of  the  Konian  empire.  The  temples  (as  already 
observed)  have  always  the  Roman  peculiarity  of  being 
raised  on  a  podium  of  considerable  elevation ;  and  the 
same  characteristic  is  found  in  most  of  the  other  public 
buildings.  All  the  three  orders  of  Greek  architecture 
— the  Doric,  Ionic,  and  Corinthian — are  found  freely 
employed  in  the  various  edifices  of  the  city,  but  rarely  in 
strict  accordance  with  the  rules  of  art  in  their  proportions 
and  details  ;  while  the  private  houses  naturally  exhibit 
still  more  deviation  and  irregularity.  In  many  of  these 
indeed  we  find  varieties  in  the  ornamentation,  and  even  in 
such  leading  features  as  the  capitals  of  the  columns,  which 
remind  one  rather  of  the  vagaries  of  mediaeval  archi- 
tecture than  of  the  strict  rules  of  Vitruvius  or  the  monoton- 
ous regularity  of  Greek  edifices.  One  practice  which  is 
especially  prevalent,  so  as  to  strike  every  casual  visitor, 
is  that  of  filling  up  the  flutings  of  the  columns  for  about 
one-third  of  their  height  with  a  thick  coat  of  stucco,  so 
as  to  give  them  the  appearance  of  being  smooth  columns 
without  flutings  below,  and  only  fluted  above.  The  un- 
pleasing  effect  of  this  anomalous  arrangement  is  greatly 
aggravated  by  the  lower  part  of  each  column  being  almost 
always  coloured  with  red  or  yellow  ochre,  so  as  to  render 
the  contrast  between  the  two  portions  still  stronger.  The 
architecture  of  Pompeii  suffers  also  from  the  inferior 
quality  of  Uie  materials  generally  employed.  No  pood 
building  stone  was  at  hand  ;  and  the  public  as  well  ua 
private,  edifices  were  constructed  either  of  volcanic  tuff, 
or  brick,  or  the  irregular  masonry  known  to  the  Romany 
as  opus  incertum.  Those  which  belong  to  the  earlier  ol) 
O.scan  period  of  the  city  (before  the  establishment  of  thq 
Roman  colony)  are  for  the  most  part  of  the  former  material, 
while  those  erected  under  the  Roman  empire,  and  especially 
those  .subsequent  to  the  great  earthquake  of  C3,  are  gene 
rally  of  slighter  construction,  and  of  a  less  durable  charucler. 
In  the  private  houses  oven  the  columns  are  mostly  oi 
brick,  covered  merely  with  a  coat  of  stucco.  In  a  few 
instances  only  do  wo  find  them  making  use  of  a  kind  o( 
travertine,  found  in  the  valley  of  the  Sariio,  which,  though 
inferior  to  the  similar  material  so  largely  employed  at 
Rome,  was  better  adapted  than  the  ordinary  tuff  for 
purposes  where  great  solidity  was  required.  The  portion 
of  the  portico  surrounding  the  forum  which  was  in  the 
process  of  rebuilding  at  the  time  when  the  city  was 
destroyed  was  constructed  of  this  material,  while  the 
earlier    portions,  as  well    us    the   principal    temples    that 

XIX.  -  57 


450 


ad  o.ned  it  were  composed  in  the  ordinary  manner  of 
volcanic  tuff.  Marble  appears  to  have  been  scarce,  and 
vvas  sparingly  employed.  In  some  instances  where  it  had 
.r,  /'■'=f>'/°'[°f"<=«d.  as  in  the  great  theatre,  it  would 
=eem  that  the  slabs  must  have  been  removed  at  a  period 
subsequent  to  the  entombment  of  the  city 

Outside  the  gate  leading  to  Herculaneum  is  found  a 
house  of  a  difterent  character  from  all  the  others   which 
from   Its   extent   and   arrangements    was   undoubtedly  a 
sul.urban    villa,  belonging   to   a    person    of   considerable 
ortune      It  is  called— as  .usual  without  any  authority— 
the   villa   of   Arrius    Diomedes;  but   its   remains   are  of 
peculiar  interest  to  us,  not  only  for  comparison  with  the 
,     numerous  ruins  of  similar  buildings  which  occur  elsewhere 
-often  of  greater  extent,  but  in  a  much  less  perfect  state 
of  preservation, -but  as  assisting  us  in  understanding  the 
description    of   ancient   authors,    such   as   Vitruvius  and 
limy,  of  the  numerous  appurtenances  frequently  annesed 
to  houses  of  this  description.     The  remains  of  a  still  more 
extensive  suburban  house  which  were  discovered  in  1764 
and  to  which  the  name  was  given,  without  the  slightest 
foundation,  of  the  villa  of  .Cicero,  are  no  longer  visible 
having   been  covered  up   again  with    earth  Us  was    fre- 
quently done  in  the  last  century)  after  the  works  of  art 
bad  been  removed.        " 

In  the  vaulted  corridors  of  the  first  villa  were  discovered 
no  less  than^  seventeen  skeletons  of  the  unfortunate  in- 
Alifr  ■';,  r°  ^?  «=^idently  fled  thither  for  protection. 
Almost  aU  the  skeletons  and  remains  of  bodies  found  in 
the  city  were  discovered  in  similar  situations,  in  cellars 
or  underground  apartments,-those  who  had  sought  refuge 
.n  flight  having  apparently  for  the  most  part  escaped  from 
destruction,  or  having  perished,  under  circumstances  where 
their  bodies  were  easily  recovered  by  the  survivors.     Ac- 
cording to  Dion  Cassiu?,  a  large  number  of  the  inhabitants 
were  assembled  in  the  theatre  at  the  time  of  the  catal 
trophe,   bu    no  bodies  have  been  found  there,  and  they 
ZZft     I  r^^'!"'  ^°d  removed  shortly  afterwards^ 
Hence  the  whole  number  of  such  remains  discovered  is  not 
so  large  as  might  at  first  be  supposed.     It  cannot  indeed 
be  accurately  estimated,  the  records  of  the  excavations  n 
the    ast  century  having  been  very  imperfectly  kept ;  but 
the  total  _number  as  yet  discovered  can  scarcely  exceed 
hree  hundred.     Of  late  years  it  has  been  found'possTble 
in  many  cases  to  take  casts  of  the  bodies  found-a  com 
plete  mould  having  been  formed  around  them  by  the  fine 
white  ashes,  partially  consolidated  bv  water         ^ 

The  road  leading  from  the  gate  of  Herculaneum  towards 
that  city  IS  bordered  on  both  sides  for  a  considerable  elten 
by  rowso   tomts,  as  was  the  case  with  all  the  great  roads 

wSt'o?  ^°"''  '"'  '"''"'^  ^"  ^"  '-Se  Ro^n  towns 
Without  of  course  approximating  to  the  stately  structures 
that  adorned  the  Via  Appia  or  Latina,  these  tombs  a  eL 
many  ins  ances  monuments  of  considerable  pretens  on  and 
of  a  highly  ornamental  character,  and  naturally  prese^Hn 
he  highest  degree  the  peculiar  advantage  common  to  aU 
^lat  remains  of  Pompeii,  in  their  per^ct  prrse^vltion 
Hardly  any  scene  even  in  this  extraordinary  city  is  more 
stnkmg  than  the  co..p  d'ceil  of  this  long  stLt  of  tombs  ' 
preserving  uninjured  the  records  of  successive  generatTons 
e  ghteen  centuries  ago.     Unfortunately  the  name"  Ire  al 

ttt?heva™^"T.'  '"'  "^  '^^™^^'-  ^^«  '-"Stion 
hat  they  are  for  the  most  part  those  of  local  magistrates 
and  mumcipal  dignitaries  of  Pompeii.  =istrates 

there  appears  to  have  been  in  the  same  quarter  a  ron 
siderable  suburb,  outside  the  gate,  extending'^  "ch  de' 
reseiblinrlfT-''^  Herculaneum;  apparently,  much 
'he  whoWl  ^.      ^')"'^  ^?  "^"^  ^"""'^  throughout  almost 

have  been  t^'^'X?"  *'''"''  '°  ^'"P'^^'     ^'  ^PP^^^^  '» 
Have  been  known  by  ti.,  name  of  Pagus  Augustus  Felix 


POM-POM 


No  manuscripts  have  been  discovered  in  Pompeii.     In- 
scriptions have  naturally  been  found  in  considerable  num- 
bers, and  we  are  indebted  to  them  for  much  information 
concerning  the  municipal  arrangements  of  the  town,  as  well 
as  the  construction  of  various  edifices  and  other  public 
works.      The  most  interesting  of ,  these  ate  such  as  are 
WTittenin  the  Oscan  dialect,  which  appears  to  have  con- 
tinued m  oflicial  use  down  to  the  time  when  the  Roman 
colony  was  introduced  by  Sulla.     From  that  time  the  Latin 
language  was  certainly  the  only  one  officially  employed 
though  Oscan  may  have  still  been  spoken  by  a  portion  at 
least  of-  the  population.     Still   more  curious,  and  almost 
pecuhar  to  Pompeii,  are  the  numerous  writings  scratched  or 
rudely  painted  upon  the  walls,  which  have  in  some  instances 
a  semi-public  character,  such  as  recommendations  of  candi-' 
dates  for  municipal  offices,  but  more  frequently  are  the 
mere  expression  of  individual  impulse  and  feeling  not  un- 
commonly conveyed  in  rude  and  imperfect  verses?    In  one 
House  also  a  whole  box  was  found  filled  with  written  tablets 
— diptychs  and  triptychs— containing  the  record  of  the 
accounts  of  a  banker  named  L.  Cscilius  Jucundus 

n,n  T,T?P'^f'°^  ""  more  formal  character  have  been 
published  by  Mommsen,  first  in  his  Inscripiiones  Regni 
fcapohtam  Zahn^  ([ol,Leipsic,  1852)  and  again  in  the 
tenth  volume  of  the  great  Corpns  InscnpHonumZatinarum 
published  at  Berlin  (1883).  The  fourth  volume  of  th^ 
same  work  pubhshed  in  1871  contains  all  the  scratched 
and  written  inscriptions  discovered  up  to  that  date,  edited 
by  Zangemeister  (under  the  title  Inscriptiones  Parietari^ 
Pomperan^,  Herculanenses,  et  StaUan^)  ■  but  the  number 
has  been  since  greatly  increased,  and  a  supplementary 
volume  IS  in  the  press.  The  Oscan  inscriptions,  which  II 
SSe      '°     '  '^°''  ^oM^ci^or.,,  have  been  published 

the  Museo  Borbonico  at  Naples  (see  vol  xvii  p   189) 

successive  edition    of  oTerb  ck's  Al  .^  t,rT'  T'A  •""'^  *« 
have  been  kept  continnallv  on  a  par  Sh'tW  n  r^^.l'^hed  in  1856) 

numerousdissertations  to  Sthev&'^-    '"''"'■   '°n?.  '°  '''" 
illustrated  ^orks  of  Zahr(BerKo7 %!?  ,"./' P      ^^'  ?e^' 

K?iv^i^'!:.^--^^J^^^ 


«-ith  a  supplement  r;ouZVub,i^L77"'''^"^^  ^eipsic.  186S), 
A  complete^atalogul  IHlT  th^e  io 'u,*-'^  Soghano  at  Naples. 
Herculineum  ^-ill  be  found  Tq  a  little  bn"W°"^[".'°S  and 

1879  under  the  title  of  J^h/wL  I  °^  published  at  Milan  in 
works  are  render  dimpe^ervXn  aTw™"  Unfortunately  all 
progres3ofthee..pIoratLstddt^v:r[:s'^ort\^:i'4*%'°H°"BT'' 
nam?p?nipeiuV''  '°""°°  ^'^^'^  ^°- ^^  '^^  Roman 


r  o  M  p  E  y 


451 


by  his  fatliev's  side  when  a  Stripling  of  seventeen  in  the 
ciocial  or  Italian  War  on  the  side  of  Sulla  against  the 
party  of  Marius  and  Cinna.  Thus  early  in  life  he  con- 
nected himself  with  the  cause  of  the  aristoa'acy,  and  a 
decisive  victory  which  he  won  in  83  ovet  the  Marian 
armies  gained  for  him  from  Sulla  the  title  of  "  iniperator." 
He  followed  up  his  successes  in  Italy  by  defeating  the 
Marians  in  Sicily  and  Africa,  and  on  his  return  to  iiome 
ill  81,  though  he  was  still  merely  an  "eques"  and  not 
legally  qualilied  to  celebrate  a  triumph,  he  was  allowed  by 
general  consent  to  enjoy  this  great  distinction,  while  Sulla 
greeted  him  with  the  surname  of  Magnus,  a  title'  he 
always  retained  and  handed  down  to  his  sons.  Yet  in 
79  he  used  his  influence  in  getting  elected  to  the  consul- 
ship a  man  politically  opposed  to  Sulla,  yEmilius  Lepidus, 
who  threatened  Rome  with  another  revolution  and  civil 
war  in  the  interest  of  the  democratic  party.  Pompey, 
however,  at  this  crisis  was  loj-al  to  his  friends,  and  with 
the  defeat  of  Lepidus  the  danger  passed  away.  With 
some  fears  and  niisgi\'ings  the  senate  permitted  him  to 
retaifi  the  command  of  his  victorious  army,  and  decided  on 
sending  him  to  Spain,  where,  under  a  leader  of  singular 
ability,  Sertorius,  the  Marian  party  was  still  formidable. 
Pompey  was  fighting  in  Spain  from  76  to  71,  and  though 
at  first  he  met  with  serious  reverses  he  was  ultimately 
successful,  his  great  opponent,  Sertorius,  having,  it  would 
seem,  lost  the  confidence  of  some  of  the  native  Spanish 
tribes.  In  71  lie  was  again  in  Italy  at  the  head  of  his  army, 
and  won  fresh  glory  by  giving  a  finishing  blow  to  the  slave 
insiu-rection  of  Spartacus.  That  .same  year,  amid  great 
popular  enthusiasm,  but  without  the  hearty  concurrence  of 
the  senate,  whom  ho  had  alarmed  by  talking  of  restoring  the 
dreaded  power  of  the  tribunes,  and  though  still  imerely  an 
"  eques,"  he  was  elected  with  Crassus  to  the  consulship,  and 
entered  Rome  in  triumph  for  his  Spanish  victories.  Thei 
following  year  saw  the  work  of  Sulla  undone  :  the  tribune- 
ship  was  restored,  and  the  administration  of  justice  was  no 
longer  left  exclusively  to  the  senate,  but  was  to  bo  shared 
by  them  with  the  wealthier  portion  of  the  middle  class,  the 
"  knights,"  as  from  old  time  they  had  been  called,  and  the 
farmers  and  collectors  of  the  revenue.  The  change  was 
really  necessary,  as  the  .provincials  could  never  get  justice 
from  a  court  composed  of  senators,  and  it  was  carried  into 
effect  by  Pompey  with  Cajsar's  aid.  Pompey  as  a  matter 
of  course  rose  still  higher  in  popularity,  and  on  the  motion 
of  the  tribune  Gabinius  in  67  he  was  entrusted  with 
an  extraordinary  command  over  the  greater  part  of  the 
empire,  specially  for  the  extermination  of  piracy  in  the 
Mediterranean,  by  %vhich  the  corn  supplies  of  Rome  were 
seriously  endangered,  while  high  prices  of  provisions 
caused  great  distress.  It  soon  appeared  that  the  right 
man  had  been  chosen  for  the  work  :  the  price  of  corn  fell 
immediately  on  Pompey's  appointment,  and  in  forty  days 
the  Mediterranean  was  swept  from  end  to  end  and  the 
[)iiates  cleared  out  of  its  waters.  Next  year,  on  the 
proposal  of  the  tribune  Manilius,  he  had  a  yet  further 
extension  of  his  powers,  the  whole  of  Rome's  empire  in 
the  East  being  put  under  his  control  for  throe  years  with 
the  view  of  finally  terminating  tho  war  with  Mithradates, 
king  of  Pontus,  who  had  recovered  from  the  defeats  ho  had 
sustained  from  Lucullus  and  regained  his  dominions. 
Both  Caesar  and  Cicero  supported  the  tribune's  proposal, 
which  was  easily  carried  in  siiite  of  tho  interested  opposi- 
tion of  the  senate  and  the  aristocracy,  several  of  whom  held 
l>rovince3  which  would  now  be  practicalljj  under  Pompey's 
<■'  inmand.  Pompey  was  now  by  far  the  first  man  in  the 
Komau  \yorld.  His  operations  in  tho  East  were  thoroughly 
successful,  and,  though  no  doubt  he  owed  somelhing  to  tho 
victories  of  Lucullus,  ho  showed  himself  an  able  soldier. 
The  wild   tribes   of   tlio   Caucasus   were   cowed   by    tho 


Roman  arms,  and  the  king  of  Pontus  himself  fled  from 
Asia  across  the  Black  Sea  to  Panticapieum,  the  modern 
Kertch.  la  the  years  64  and  'G.3  Syria  and  Palestine  were 
anne.xed  to  Rome's  empire.  After  the  capture  of  Jeru- 
salem Pompey  is  said  to  have  entered  the  temple,  and  even 
tlie  Holy  of  Holies.  Asia  and  the  East  generally  were 
left  under  the  subjection  of  petty  kings  who  were  mere 
vassals  of  Rome.  Several  cities  had  been  founded  which 
became  centres  of  Gi-eek  life  and  civilization.  A  really 
great  work  had  been  accomplished,  and  Pompey,  now  in 
his  forty-fifth  year,  returned  to  Italy  in  01  to  celebrate  the 
most  magnificent  triumph  which  Rome  had  ever  witnessed, 
and  to  be  hailed  as  the  conqueror  of  Spain,  Africa,  and  Asia. 
The  remainder  of  Pompey's  life  is  inextricably  inter- 
woven with  that  of  Ca;sar.  He  was  married  to  Ciesar's 
daughter  Julia,  and  as  yet  the  relations  between  the  two 
had  been  friendly.  On  more  than  one  occasion  Caesar 
had  supported  Pompey's  policy,  which  of  late  had  been  in 
a  decidedly  democratic  direction.  Pompey  was  now  in 
fact  ruler  of  the  greater  part  of  the  empire,  while  Cresar 
had  only  the  two  provinces  of  Gaul;  The  control  of  the 
capital,  the  supreme  command  of  the  army  in  Italy  and  of 
the  jMediterranean  fleet,  the  governorship  of  tho  two 
Spains,  the  superintendence  of  the  corn  supplies,  which 
were  mainly  drawn  from  Sicily  and  Africa,  and  on  which  the 
vast  population  of  Rome  was  wholly  dependent,  were 
entirely  in  the  hands  of  Pompey.  Tho  senate  and  the 
aristocracy  disliked  and  distrusted  him,  but  they  felt  that, 
should  things  come  to  the  worst,  they  might  still  find  iu 
him  a  champion  of  their  cause.  At  the  same  time  the 
senate  itself  was  far  from  unanimous  :  among  many  of  its 
members  there  was  a  feeling  that  a  military  imperialism 
had  become  a  necessity,  while  to  the  rich  and  idle  world 
generally  peace  and  quiet  at  any  price  seemed  the  best  of 
all  blessings.  Hence  the  joint  rule  of  Pompey  and  Cxsar 
was  not  unwillingly  accepted,  and  anything  like  a  rupture 
between  the  tv;o  was  greatly  dreaded  as  tho  sure  beginning 
of  anarchy  throughout  the  Roman  world.  With  tho  death 
of  Pompey's  wife  Julia,  in  54,  came  strained  relations  be- 
tween him  and  C^sar,  and  soon  afterwards  he  drew  closer 
to  what  we  may  call  the  old  conservative  party  in  the  senate 
and  aristocracy.  Tho  end  was  now  near,  and  Pompey 
blundered  into  a  false  political  position  and  an  open  quarrel 
with  Ca;sar.  In  50  the  senate  by  a  very  large  majority 
revoked  the  extraordinary  powers  conceded  to  Pompey  and 
Ccesar  in  Spain  and  Gaul  respectively.  Pompey's  refusal 
to  submit  gave  Ca;sar  a  good  pretext  for  declaring  war 
and  marching  at  tho  head  of  his  army  into  Italy.  At  the 
beginning  of  the. contest,  the  advantages  were  decidedly  on 
tho  .side  of  Pompey,  but  very  speedily  the  superior  political 
tact  of  his  rival,  combined  with  extraordinary  promptitude 
and  decision  in  following  up  his  blows,  turned  tho  scale 
against  him.  Pompey's  cause,  with  that  of  tho  senate  and 
aristocracy,  was  finally  ruined  by  his  defeat  in  48  in  tho 
neighbourhood  of  tho  Thessnlian  city  Pharsalus.  That 
same  year  he  fled  with  the  hope  of  finding  a  safe  refuge  in 
Egypt,  but  was  treacherously  murdered  as  he  was  stepping 
on  tho  shore  by  one  of  his  old  centurions.  He  bad  iust 
completed  Iiis  fifty-eighth  year. 

I'ompoy,  though  lio  had  jiomo  great  and  good  qualitioa,  hordly 
deserved  his  siiriiatne  of  "  tlio  nrcttt."  Ho  was  certainly  a  very 
L'ood  soldier,  and  is  said  to  have  excelled  in  all  athletic  exercises, 
but  ho  fell  short  of  being  a  fiist-rato  general.  Ho  won  great 
successes  in  Spain  and  more  especially  m  the  East,  but  for  tlu'.so 
ho  was  no  doubt  partly  indebted  to  what  othei-a  hn.'i  already  done. 
Of  tho  gifts  which  nmko  a  good  statesman  ho  had  really  none.  As 
plainly  appeared  in  tho  last  years  of  his  lifo,  ho  was  too  weak  and 
irfesoluto  to  chooso  a  side  and  stand  by  it.  Pitted  against  surli  a 
mm  03  Cipsar,  ho  could  not  but  fiil.  But  to  his  credit  be  it  said 
that  in  a  corrupt  time  he  never  u.wd  his  opportunities  for  plunder 
and  extortion,  and  his  domestic  life  was  pure  and  simple. 

A  vi'ry  C(»in|iIoii;  lito  of  I'ompcy  will  bo  fomiil  in  Smith's  Diet,  o/  Gietk  omX 
Roman  Jiiography.    Tho  allusions  to  him  in  Cicero's  works  aio  vco'  (roQUent. 


452 


P  0  N  — P  O  N 


II.  Sextus  Pompeius  Magnus  (75-35  b.c),  the  younger 
son  of  Pompey  the  Great,  born  75  B.C.,  continued  after 
his  father'3  death  to  prolong  the  struggle  against  the  new 
rulers  of  the  Roman  empire.  Csesar's  victory  at  Munda 
in  45  drove  him  out  of  Corduba  (Gordo, a),  though  for 
a  time  he  held  his  ground  in  the  south  of  Spain,  and 
defeated  Asinius  Pollio,  the  governor  of  the  province.  In 
43,  tho  year  of  the  triumvirate  of  Octavius,  Antony,  and 
Lepidus,  he  was  proscribed  along  with  the  murderers  of 
Csesar,  and  not  daring  to  show  himself  in  Italy  he  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  a -fleet  manned  chiefly  by  slaves  or 
proscribed  persons,  by  means  of  which  he  made  himself 
master  of  Sicily,  and  from  thence  ravaged  the  coasts  of  Italy. 
Rome  was  threatened  with  a  famine,  as  the  corn  supplies 
from  Egypt  and  Africa  were  cut  off  by  his  ships,  and  it 
was  thought  prudent  to  negotiate  a  peace  with  him,  which 
was  to  leave  him  in  possession  of  Sicily,  Sardinia,  and 
Achaia,  provided  he  would  allow  Italy,  to  be  freely  sup- 
plied with  corn.  But  the  arrangement  could  not  be 
carried  into  efiect,  as  Se.Ytus  renewed  the  war  and  gained 
some  considerable  successes  at  sea.  However,  in  36  his 
fleet  was  defeated  and  destroyed  by  Agrippa  oS  the  north 
coast  of  Sicily,  and  in  the  following  year  he  was  murdered 
at  Mitylene  by  an  officer  of  Antony.  He  had  his  father's 
bravery  as  a  soldier,  but  seems  to  have  been  a  rough 
uncultivated  man.  (w  j  n  ) 

PONCE  DE  LEON,  Lms. .  See  Leon,  Ltns  Ponce  i>e. 
PONCELET,  Jean  Victor  (1788-1867),  mathemati- 
cian,  was   born  at  Metz,  July   1,   1788.     From   1808  to 
1810  he  attended  the  Polytechnic  School,  and  afterwards, 
till  1812,  the  Practical  School  at  Metz.  '  He  then  became 
lieutenant  of   engineers,  and    took    part   in    the   Russian 
campaign,  during  which  he  was  taken  prisoner  and  was 
confined    at    Saratoff  on    the  Volga.     It  was    during  his 
imprisonment  here  that,  "  priv(5  de  toute  esp^ce  de  Uvres 
et  de  secours,  surtout    distrait    par   les   malheurs  de  ma 
patrie   et  les  miens  propres,"  as  he    himself    puts  it,  he 
began  his  researches  on  projective  geometry  which  led  to 
his  great  treatise  on  that  subject.     This  work,  the  Traite 
des  Proprietes  Projectives  des  Figures,  which  was  published 
in   1822  (2d  ed.,   1865),  is  occupied  with  the  investiga- 
tion of  the  projective  properties  of  figures,  that  is,  such 
properties  as  are  not  altered  by  projection.     In  his  inves- 
tigation he  employs  the  ideas  of  continuity,  of  homologous 
figiu-es,  and  of  reciprocal  polars ;  and  by  means  of  these, 
without  any  analysis,  he  was  able  to  establish  all  the  known 
properties  of  lines  and  surfaces  of  the  second  degree,  and 
to  discover  others  unknown  before.     This  work  entitles 
Poncclet  to  rank  as  one  of  the  greatest  of  those  who  took 
part  in  the  development  of  the  modern  geometry  of  which 
Monge  was  the  founder.     From  1815  to  1825  he  was  occu^ 
pied  with  military  engineering  at  Metz;  and  from  1825 
to  1835  ho  was  professor  of  mechanics  at  the  Practical 
School  there.     In  1826,  in  his  Memoire  sur  les  Ro7tes  Ey- 
drauliqncs  d,  Au^cs  Courbes,  he  brought  forward  improve- 
ments in  tho  construction  of  water-wheels,  which  more  than 
doubled  their  efficiency.     In  1834  he  became  a  member  of 
the  Academy;  from  1838  to  1848  he  was  professor  to  the 
faculty  of  sciences  at  Paris,  and  from  1848  to  1850  com- 
mandant of  the  Polytechnic  School,  where  he  effected  a 
reform  in  the  course  of  study.     At  the  London  Interna- 
tional Exhibition  in  1851  he  had  charge  of  the  department 
of  machinery,  and  wrote  a  report  on  the  machinery  and 
tools  on  view  at  that  exhibition.     He  died  December  22, 
1867.     Besides  those  referred  to  abQjg,  he  wrote  a  number 
of  works,  and  contributed  many  papers  to  Crelle's  Journal, 
(fee,  on  different  branches  of  engineering  and  mathematics. 
POND,  John  (c.  1767-1836),  astronomer-royal,  was  born 
about  17C7  in  London,  where  his  father  made  a  fortune 
in  trade.     He  entered  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  at  the 


age  of  sixteen,  but  took  no  degree,  his  coarse  being 
interrupted  by  severe  pulmonary  attacks  which  compelled 
a  prolonged  residence  abroad.  His  travels  extended  from 
Lisbon  to  Constantinople  and  the  Nile,  and  were  turned 
to  account  for  astronomical  observation.  In  1800  he 
settled  at  Westbury  near  Bristol,  and  began  to  determine 
star-places  with  a  fine  altitude  and  azimuth  circle  of  2k 
feet  diameter  by  Troughton.  His  demonstration  in  1806 
(Phd.  Trans.,  xcvi.  420)  of  a  change  of  form  in  the 
Greenwich  mural  quadrant  led  to  the  introduction  of 
astronomical  circles  at  the  Royal  Observatory,  and  to  his 
own  appointment  as  its  head.  Elected  a  fellow  of  the 
Royal  Society,  February  26,  1807,  he  married  and  went  to 
live  m  London  m  the  same  year,  and  in  1811  succeeded 
Maskelyne  as  astronomer-royal. 

Daring  an  administration  of  nearly  twenty-five  years 
Pond  effected  a  reform  of  practical  astronomy  in  Ensland 
comparable  to  that  effected  by  Bessel  in  Germany      In 
1821  he  began  to  employ  the  method  of  observation  by  re- 
flexion ;  and  in  1825  he  devised  means  (see  Mem.  R  A  Soc 
n  499)  of  combining  two  mural  circles  in  the  determination 
of  the  place  of  a  single  object,  the  one  serving  for  direct 
and  the  other  for  reflected  vision.     (By  an  invention  of 
Airys,   the  same  object  is  now  attained  with  one  instru- 
ment.)     During    Pond's    term  of  office  the  instrumental 
equipment  at  Greenwich  was  completely  changed,  and  the 
number   of   assistants    increased    from    one  to  sis.     The 
superior  accuracy  of  his  determinations  was  due  in  part 
to  his  systematic  attention  to  the  errors  of  his  instruments, 
in  part  to  his  plan  of  multiplying  observations.     Durin"  a 
prolonged  controversy  (1810-24),  he  consistently  denfed 
the  reality  of  Brinkley's  imaginary  star-parallaxes  (see  his 
papers  in  Phd.  Tram.,  cviii.  477  ;  cxiii.  53).     Delicacy  of 
health  impeded  his  activity,  and  compelled  his  retirement 
in  tho  autumn  of  1835.     He  died  at  Blackheath,  September 
7,  1836,  and  was  baried  beside  Halley  in  the  churchyard 
of  Lee.     The    Copley  medal  was  conferred  upon  him  in 
1823,    and    the    Lalando    prize    in     1817    by    the   Paris 
Academy,  of  which  he  was  a  corresponding  member.     He 
published  eight  folio  volumes  of  Greenwich  Observations, 
translated  Laplace's  Systeme  du  Monde  (in  2  vols.  8vo., 
1809),    and    contributed    thirty-one   papers    to   scientific 
collections.     His  catalogue  of  1112  stars  (1833)  was  of 
great  value. 

,o?f  ^""-  ^r^-  ^'"^■'  ^-  ^^^5  A>inua2  Biography  and  Obituary, 
1837 ;  Grant,  ffist.  of  Phys.  Astr.,  p.  491 ;  Royal  Societj-'s  Cat.  of 
Sc.  Papers.  -i  ■>  J 

_  PONDICHERRI,  chief  settlement  of  the  French  posses- 
sions in  the  East  Indies,  situated  on  the  Coromandel  coast, 
in  11°  66'  N.  lat.  and  79°  53'  E.  long. ;  it  is  86  miles  south 
of  Madras,  and  is  connected  with  the  South  Indian  Railway 
system.  The  territory  consists  of  three  districts— Pondi- 
cherri,  Villianur,  and  Bahur — comprising  an  area  of  112 
square  miles,  with  a  population  in  1881  of  139,210.  The 
town  is  divided  into  a  European  and  a  native  quarter, 
separated  from  one  another  by  a  canal.  The  French  first 
settled  at  Pondichcrji  in  1674;  it  was  besieged  four  times 
by  the  British,  the  last  time  in  1793;  but  it  was  finally 
restored  in  1816.  On  the  whole  the  town  is  considered 
very  salubrious ;  the  purity  of  its  water-supply  is  said  to 
be  unrivalled  in  any  other  town  in  southern  India. 

PONEVYEZH,  a  district  town  of  Russia,  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Kovno,  situated  on  the  upper  course  of  the 
Nevyeja  river,  and  connected  by  rail  with  Libau  on  the 
north-west  and  with  Dunaburg  (80  miles  distant)  on  the 
east.  It  is  an  old  town  which  was  almost  totally  destroyed 
by  the  pestilence  of  1550,  but  was  rebuik  and  repeopled 
owing  to  its  advantageous  situation  on  the  highway  to  the 
Baltic.  After  having  suffered  severely  from  wars  in  the 
17th  and  18th  centuries  it  was  annexed  to  Russia  on  tho 


P  O  N  —  P  0  N 


453 


third  dismemberment  of  Poland,  but  had  neither  manu- 
I'actui'ing  nor  commercial'  imijortance  until  it  was  brought 
into  railway  connection  with  Libau,  with  which  seaport 
it  now  carries  on  soniQ  trade  in  agricultural  produce. 
Its  population  (8070  in  1865)  had  in  1881  reached  15,030, 
of  whom  nearly  one-half  were  Jews, 

PONIATOWSKI,  a  family  of  Poland,  the  earL'est 
member  of  which  to  acquire  high  distinction  was  Stanis- 
laus CioLEK  (lG77-17G2)j  regarding  whose  descent  there 
are  conflicting  accounts, — some  tracing  it  to  the  Lombard 
Counts  Torelli,  one  of  whom  in  the  seventeenth  centui'y 
married  a  daughter  of  Albert  of  Poniatow,  and  added 
the  name  of  Poniatowski  to  his  own,  which  ho  changed 
to  its  equivalent  in  Polish,  Oiolek,  while  others  affirm 
that  the  name  Poniatowski  was  adopted  by  one  of  two 
brothers  from  an  estate  which  fell  to  his  share,  while  it  is 
also  asserted  that  Stanislaus  Ciolek  was  the  natiu-al  son  of 
Prince  Sapieha,  and  was  adopted  by  a  Polish  nobleman 
named  Poniatowski  (see  Szymanowski,  Die  Poniatoivski, 
Geneva,  1 880).  In  any  case  he  had  sufficient  influence  and 
ability  to  insure  his  rapid  promotion  in  the  army  of 
Charles  XII.,  and  as  major-general  at  the  battle  of  Poltava 
in  1709  was  able  by  his  self-command  in  facilitating  the 
pas.sage  of  the  Dnieper  to  save  the  retreating  army.  In 
1711  he  was  sent  on  a  special  embassy  to  Constantinople, 
when  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  from  the  sultan  a  promise 
to  send  an  army  to  aid  Charles  in  the  war  with  Kussia ; 
but  on  account  of  a  change  in  the  oiHce  of  grand  vizier 
the  promise  was  never  carried  out.  All  possibility  of 
undertaking  a  Russian  invasion  being  therefore  at  an  end, 
he  was  appointed  by  Charles  governor  of  the  duchy  of 
Zweibriicken.  After  the  death  of  Charles,  he  gave  his 
adhesion  to  Augustus  II.,  by  whom  he  was  in  1724  made 
grand  treasurer  of  Lithuania,  and  in  1731  palatine  of 
JIazovia.  On  the  death  of  AugustiLS  II.  he  sought  to 
effect  the  promotion  of  Stanislaus  Leszczyuski  to  the 
throne,  but  ultimately  he  gave  in  his  submission  to 
Augustus  in.,  and  after  holding  under  him  several  high 
offices  was  in  1752  appointed  castellan  of  Cracow,  lie 
was  the  author  of  liemarques  cC^in  Seigneur  Fohnais  sur 
VUistoire  dc  Charles  XII.  par  Voltaire,  1741,  which  was 
translated  into  English  in  the  same  year.  Ho  died  in 
17C2,  leaving  by  his  marriage  with  Constance  Princess 
Czartoryski  foiu-  sons,  the  best  known  of  whom  was  the 
second,  Stanislaus  Augustus  (1732-1798),  king  of 
Poland,  born  17th  January  1732.  Sent  by  Augustus  III. 
to  the  court  of  Russia,  he  won  the  favour  of  the  grand- 
duchess  Catherine,  who  succeeded  to  the  throno  by  the 
assassination  of  her  husband,  9th' July  1762.  Through  her 
influence  he  was,  7th  September  17G4,  cho.son  king  of 
Poland.  For  an  account  of  his  despicable  and  disastrous 
rule  SCO.  Poland  (pp.  297-8).  After  signing  his  abdi- 
cation, 2r)th  November  1795,  he  took  up  his  residence  at 
St  Petersburg,  where  he  enjoyed  a  pension  of  200,000 
ducats  jiaid  jointly  by  Austria,  Russia,  and  Prussia.  Ho 
died  unmarried,  12th  February  1798  (see  Jfcmoires  Sfcrels 
incdits  de  Staniilas  II.  Auguste,  Leipsic,  1867,  and  Do 
Mouy,  Correspondance  inidite  de  lioi  Stattislas-Avgusle  et 
de  Madame  Geoffrin,  Paris,  1875).  Of  the  other  sons  of 
Stanislaus^ Poniatowski,  Casimir  (1721-rl800),  the  oldest, 
was  grand  chamberlain  of  Poland  and  commander  of  the 
royal  guard;  Andrew  (1735-1773)  became  an  Austrian 
Held  mar,shal;  and  Michael  (1736-1794)  was  ultimately 
promoted  primate  of  Poland.  Joseph  Aston  (1762-1813), 
prince  and  marshal  of  France,  son  of  Andrew  Poniatowski 
was  born  at  Warsaw,  7th  May  1762.  At  the  ago  of  sixteen 
ho  entered  the  service  of  Austria.  After  the  resolution 
of  the  diet  to  reorganize  the  Polish  army  ho  was  recalled 
and  obtained  the  rank  of  major-general.  On  the  outbreak 
of  hostilities  with   Ru.ssia   in    1792   he   wa>i  made   com- 


mander of  the  army  defending  central  Poland.  When  the 
king  his  uncle  acceded  to  the  confederation  of  Targovitza 
he  resigned  his  commission,  but  on  the  outbreak  of  the 
insurrection  in  1794  he  enrolled  himself  as  a  volunteer 
under  Kosciuszko,  although  Kosciuszko  had  previously 
held  inferior  -military  rank  to  his  own.  In  command  of 
a  division  he  had  charge  of  the  defence  of  the  northern  side 
of  Warsaw,  and  after  its  capitulation  he  went  to  Vienna. 
In  1798  he  returned  to  Warsaw,  having  obtained  from 
the  Prussians  a  portion  of  his  confiscated  estates.  On  the 
arrival  of  Napoleon  at  Warsaw,  19th  December  1806, 
Poniatowski  accepted  his  invitation  to  become  general  of 
a  national  Polish  army,  which,  fired  by  the  hope  of  national 
independence,  gathered  to  the  number  of  27,000,  to  assist 
Napoleon  in  his  Russian  campaign.  After  the  peace  of 
Tilsit,  7th  July  1807,  the  duchy  of  Warsaw  was  created, 
and  Poniatowski  became  minister  of  war.  On  the  invasioti 
of  the  duchy  in  1809  he  fought  a  desperate  battle  near 
the  village  of  Raszyn,  and,  being  permitted  afterwards  to 
retreat  across  the  Vistula,  invaded  Galicia  and  compelled 
the  Russians  to  evacuate  Cracow,  in  Napoleon's  cam- 
paigns he  held  the  command  of  the  Polish  army  corpaj 
distinguishing  himself  at  Smolensk,  Borodino,  and  Leipsic, 
where  he  took  1000  prisoners,  and  in  token  of  his  brilliant 
exploit  was  created  by  Napoleon  a  marshal  of  France  the 
same  eveiung.  He  was  employed  in  covering  the  retreat 
from  Leipsic,  and  while  charging  a  column  of  Prussian 
infantry  was  wounded-  by  a  ball  in  the  shoulder.  When 
the  enemy  obtained  possession  of  the  suburbs  he 
endeavoured  to  join  the  main  army  by  plunging  into 
the  Elster,  but  was  fired  upon  and,  enfeebled  by  wounds, 
was  drowned,  19th  October  1813.  Joseph  (1816-1873), 
grandson  of  Casimir  mentioned  above,  was  born  4th 
February  1816,  at  Rome.  Entering  the  Tuscan  service, 
he  went  in  1849  as  minister  of  Tuscany  to  London. 
In  1850  he  took  up  his  residence  in  Paris,  and  becoming 
a  naturalized  citizen  -was  in  1854  chosen  a  member 
of  the  French  senate.  In  1870  he  removed  to  London, 
where  he  supported  himself  by  teaching  music.  He  was 
the  composer  of  several  operas.     He  died  3rd  July  1873. 

PONS,  Jeajj  Louis  (1761-1831),  French  astronomer, 
born  at  Peyre  (Haut-Dauphind),  24th  December  1761, 
received  a  place  at  the  Marseilles  observatory  in  1789,  and 
in  1819  became  the  director  of  the  new  observatory  at 
Marlia  near  Lucca,  which  he  left  in  1825  for  the  obser-^ 
vatory  of  the  museum  at  Florence.  Hero  he  died  October 
14,  1831.  Pons  was  famous  as  a  comet-hunter,  discover- 
ing between  1801  and  1827  thirty-seven  of  tho.se  bodies, 
one  of  which  (discovered  2Gth  November  1818)  is  the 
famous  comet  named  after  Euckc,  w  ho  determined  its 
orbit. 

PONSARD,  FRANgois  (1814-1867),  French  dramatist, 
was  born  at  Vienno  in  Dauphind  on  the  1st  June  1814, 
Ho  was  bred  a  lawyer,  and  his  first  performance  in  litera- 
ture was  a  translation  of  Manfred  (1837).  But  the  first 
important,  and  indeed  the  most  important,  event  of  his  life 
was  the  rci)rcsentation  of  his  play  Lvcrece  at  the  Theatre 
Franqaia  on  the  1st  April  1843.  This  date  is  a  kind  of 
epoch  in  literary  and  dramatic  history,  because  it  haa  been 
supposed  to  mark  a  reaction  against  the  romantic  style  of 
Dumas  and  Hugo.  In  reality,  however,  Ponsard  was  only 
a  romantic  of  a  somew-hat  tamer  genius  than  those  who 
had  gone  before  him.  It  so  happened  that  the  tastes  and 
capacities  of  the  most  popular  actress  of  the  day,  Rachel, 
suited  his  stylo  of  drama,  and  this  contributed  greatly  to 
his  own  popularity.  Ho  followed  up  Lticrice  with  Agnis 
de  Meranie  (1846),  Charlotte  Cordat/  (1850),  and  others. 
Ponsard  accepted  the  emi)iro,  though  with  no  vtry  great 
enthusiasm,  and  received  the  post  of  librarian  to  tho 
senate,  which,  however,  he  soon  resigned,  fighting  -a  blood- 


454 


p  O  N  —  P  O  N 


less  duel  with  a  journalist  on  the  subject.     VHonneur.  et 
VAfi/ent,  one  of  bis  most  successful  plays,  was  acted  in 
1853,  and  he  became  an  Academician  in  1855.     For  some 
years  he  did  little,  but  in  186G  he  obtained  great  success 
with  Le  Lion  Amoureux.     He  died  a  year  later  at  Paris 
in  July  1867,  soon  after  his  nomination  to  the  commander- 
ship  of  the  Legion  of  Honour.     His  widow  was  pensioned. 
Pousard  is  no  doubt  in  some  ways  a  remarkable  dramatist. 
Unlike  most  men  who  have  achieved  considerable  success 
on  the  stage,  he  did  not  overwrite  himself,  and  most  of  his 
plays  hold  a  certain  steady  level  of  literary  and  dramatic 
abihty.      But,  as  has  been  said,  his  popularity  is  in  the 
main  due  to  the  fact  that  ho  found  an  actress  ready  to 
hand  for  his  pieces,  and  that  his  appearance  coincided  with 
a  certain  public  weariness  of  the  grander  but  also  more 
extravagant  and  unequal  stvle  of  1830. 
-  -PONTAISrUS,  JoviAXUs  "(1426-1503),  a  famous  Italian 
humanist  and  poet,  was  born  in   1426  at  Cerreto  in  the 
duchy  of  Spoleto,  where  his  father  was  murdered  in  one  of 
the  frequent  civil  brawls  which  then  disturbed  the  peace 
of  Italian  towns.     His  mother  escaped  with  the  boy  to 
Perugia,  and  it  was  here  that  Pontano  received  his  first 
instruction  in  languages  and  literature.     Failing  to  recover 
his '  patrimony,   he  abandoned    Umbria,    and  at  the  age 
of.  twenty-two  established  himseK  at  Naples,  which  con- 
tiniied'to-be  his  chief  place  of  residence  during  a  long 
and  prosperous  career.     He  here  began  a  close  friendship 
with  the  distinguished  scholar,  Antonio  Beccadelli,  through 
whose  influence  he  gait/»d  admission  to  the  royal  chancery 
of  Alphonso  the  Magnanimous.     Alphonso  discerned  the 
singular  gifts  of  the  young  scholar,  and  made  him  tutor  to 
his  sons:  ^  Pontano's  connexion  with  the  Aragonese  dynasty 
Rs  political  adviser,  military  .secretary,  a,nd  chancellor  was 
henceforth  a  close  one ;  and  the   most   doubtful   passage 
in   his    diplomatic  career    is*  when  he  welcomed  Charles 
Vm.  of  France  upon  the  entry  of  that  king  into  Naples 
in  1495,  thus  shoN^^ing  that  he  was  too  ready  to  abandon 
the  princes  upon  whose  generosity  his  fortunes  had  been 
raised.     Pontano  illustrates  in  a  marked  manner  the  posi- 
tion of  power  to-  which  men  of  letters  and  learning  had 
ai^ived    in  "Italy.     He   entered   Naples  "as   a   penniless 
scholar.     He  was  almost  immediately  made  the  companion 
and  trusted  friend  "of  its  sovereign,  loaded  with  honours, 
lodged  in''a  fine  house,  enrolled  among  the  nobles  of  the 
realm,"  enriched,  and  placed  at  the  very  height  of  social 
irapor  tance.     Following  ,the    example    of  Pomponio  Leto 
in  Rome  and  of  Cosinio  de' Medici  at  Florence,  Pontano 
founded  an  academy  for  the  meetings  of  learned  and  dis- 
tinguished men.     This    became  the  centre    of  fashion  as 
well  as  of  erudition  in  the  soufliern  capital,  and  subsisted 
long  after  its  founder's  death.     In  1461  he  married  his 
first  WLfe,  Adriana  Sassone,  who  bore   him  one  son  and 
three  daughters  before  her  death  in  1491.     Nothing  dis- 
tinguished Pontano  more  than  the  strength  of  his  domestic 
feeUng.     He  was  passionately  attached  to  his   wife  and 
children ;    and,,  while   his  friend   Beccadelli    signed   the 
licentious  verses  of  Hermaphroditus,  his  own  Muse  cele- 
brated in  liberal  but  loyal  strains  the  pleasures  of  conjugal 
affection,  the    charm   of    infancy,  and   the  sorrows  of   a 
husband  and  a  father  in  the  loss  of  those  he  loved.     Not 
long   after  the  death  of   his   first  wife  Pontano   took  in 
second  marriage  a  beautiful  girl  of  Ferrara,  who  is  only 
known  to  us  under  the  name  of  Stella.     Although  he  was 
at  least  sixty-five  years  of  age  at  this  period,  his  poetic 
faculty  displayed  itself  with  more  than  usual  warmth  and 
lustre  in  the  glowing  series  of  elegies,  styled  Eridanus, 
which  he  poured  forth  to  commemorate  the  rapture  of  this 
union.     Stella's  one  child,  Lucilio,  survived  his  birth  but 
fifty  days  ;  nor  did  his  mother  long  rem.ain  to  comfort  the 
scholar's  old  age.     Pontano  had  already  lost  his  only  son 


by  the  first- marriage ;  therefore  his  declining  years  were 
solitary.  He  died  in  1503  at  Naples,  where  a  remarkable 
group  of  terra-cotta  figures,  life-sized  and  painted,  still 
adorns  his  tomb  in  the  church  of  Jlonte  Oliveto.  He  is 
there  represented  together  with  his  patron  Alphonso  and  his 
friend  Sannazzaro  in  adoration  before  the  dead  Christ. 

As  a  diplomatist  and  state  official  Pontano  played  a  part  of  some 
importance  in  the  affairs  of  southern  Italy  and  in  the  Barons'  War, 
the  wars  with  Rome,  and  the  expulsion  and  restoration  of  tlie 
Aragonese  dynasty.  But  his  chief  claim  upon  the  attention  of  pos- 
terity is  as  a  scholar.  His  writings  divide  themselves  into  disserta- 
tions upon  such  topics  as  the  "  Liberality  of  Princes  "  or  "  Ferocity," 
composed  in  the  rhetorical  style  of  the  day,  and  poeuis.  He  was 
distinguished  for  energy  of  Latin  style,  for  vigorous  intellectual 
powers,  and  for  the  faculty,  rare  among  his  contemporaries,  of 
expressing  the  facts  of  modern  life,  tlie  actualities  of  personal 
emotion,  in  language  sufficiently  classical  yet  always  characteristic 
of  the  man.  His  prose  treatises  are  moi-e  useful  to  students  of 
manners  than  the  similar  lucubrations  of  Poggio.  Yet  it  was  prin- 
cipally as  a  Latin  poet  that  he  exhibited  his  full  strength.  An 
ambitious  didactic  composition  in  hexameters,  entitled  Urania, 
embodying  the  astronomical  science  of  the  age,  and  adorning  this 
high  theme  with  brilliant  mythological  episodes,  won  the  admira- 
tion of  Italy.  It  still  remains  a  monument  of  fertile  invention, 
exuberant  facility,  and  energetic  handling  of  material.  Not  less 
excellent  is  the  didactic  poem  on  orange  trees,  Dc  Rorlis  lies- 
pcridum.  His  most  original  compositions  in  vei-se,  however,  are 
elegiac  and  hendecasyllabic  pieces  on  personal  topics — the  De  Con- 
jugali  Amore,  JEridamis,  Tumuli,  Kxnis,  Baix,  &c.— in  which  ho 
uttered  his  vehemently  passionate  emotions  with  a!  w-armth  of 
southern  colouring,  an  evident  sincerity,  and  a  truth  of  painting 
from  reality  which  make  the  reader  pardon  an  erotic  freedom  that 
is  alien  to  our  present  taste.  These  lyrical  compositions  breathe 
the  atmosphere  of  Naples,  reproduce  its  scenery  with  wonderful  ' 
brilliancy,  and  introduce  us  to  the  customs  of  its  pleasure-loving 
pagan  people.  Yet,  in  spite  of  their  excessive  voluptuousness,  wa 
rise  from  their  perusal  convinced  that  their  author  was  essentially  a 
good  man,  a  loving  husband  and  father,  and  an  attached  friend. 

Pontano's  prose  and  poems  were  printed  by  the  Aldi  at  Venice. 
For  his  life  see  Ardito,  Giovanni  Pontano  c  i  suoi  Tempi,  Kaples, 
1S71 ;  for  his  place  in  the  history  of  literature,  Symonds,  Hauiis- 
sanc€  in  Italy.  (J.  A.  S. ) 

PONTECOEVO,  a  city  of  Italy  in  the  province  of 
Caserta,  on  the  left  bank  of  th'e  Garigliano,  with  a  popu- 
lation of  5172  in  1881  (commune  10,191),  answers  to  the 
ancient  Fregelte,  a  Volscian  city,  colonized  in  323  B.C.  by 
the  Romans,  who  thus  occasioned  the  Second  Samnite  War. 
The  principality  of  Pontecorvo  (about  40  square  miles  in 
extent),  which  Napoleon  bestowed  on  Bernadotte  in  1806, 
was  in  1810  incorporated  with  the  French  empire. 

PONTEFRACT,  or  Pomfket,  a  market  town  and 
municipal  and  parliamentary  borough  in  the  AVest  Riding 
of  Yorkshire,  England,  finely-  situated  on  an  eminence  near 
the  junction  of  the  Calder  and  Aire,  and  on  three  railway 
lines,  13  miles  south-east  of  Leeds,  and  14  north-west  of 
„Doncaster.  The  streets  are  wide  and  regular,  and  there 
are  many  good  houses  and  shops.  A  park  over  300  acres 
in  extent  is  used  as  a  public  recreation  ground.  The  most 
important  of  the  antiquarian  remains  are  the  ruins  of  the 
famous  castle  situated  on  a  rocky  height,  originally  cover- 
ing with  its  precincts  an  area  of  over  8  acres,  and  contain- 
ing in  all  eight  round  towers.  The  principal  feature 
remaining  is  the  keep.  The  castle  is  said  to  occupy  the 
site  of  a  fortress  erected  by  Ailric,  a  Saxon  thane.  It  was 
founded  by  Ilbert  de  Lacy  shortly  after  the  Conquest,  and 
probably  nearly  completed  by  Ilbert  de  Lacy  the  second, 
who  died  about  1141.  From  that  time  till  it^  demolition 
in  1649  it  was  the  great  stronghold  of  South  Yorkshire. 
It  was  the  cradle  of  the  dukes  of  Lancaster,  and  in  it 
Richard  II.  was,  after  his  deposition,  "kf^pt  secretly"  till 
his  death.  Many  persons  of  rank  and  influence  have  been 
confined  in  it  as  political  prisoners.  During  the  wars\of 
York  and  Lancaster  it  was  a  centre  of  intrigue  and  con- 
spiracy. In  1536  it  surrendered  to  Aske,  the  leader  of 
the  "pilgrimage  of  grace."  At  the  beginning  of  the 
Civil  War  it  was  garrisoned  for  Charles,  and  it  under- 
went four  sieges,  three  of  them   by   the   Parllamentai^ 


P  O  N  — P  O  N 


456 


forces,  and  one  by  the  Royalists.  After  its  capitulation  to 
Lambert  in  March  1649  it  was  dismantled.  Below  the 
castle  is  All  Saints  church,  which  suffered  severely  during 
the  siege  of  the  castle,  but  still  retains  some  work  of  the 
12th  century.  In  1837  the  tower  and  ■  transepts  were 
fitted  up  for  divine  service.  The  church  of  St  Giles, 
formerly  a  chapel  of  ease  to  All  Saints,  but  made  parochial 
in  the  18th  century,  is  of  Norman  date,  but  most  of  the 
present  structure  is  modern.  The  17th-century  spire  was 
removed  in  1707,  and  replaced  by  a  square  tower,  which 
was  rebuilt  in  1797;  the  chancel  was  rebuilt  in  1869. 
In  Southgate  is  an  ancient  hermitage  and  oratory  cut  out 
of  the  sohd  rock,  which  dates  from  1396.  On  St  Thomas's 
Hill,  where  Thomas,  earl  of  Lancaster,  was  beheaded  in 
1322,  a  chantry  was  erected  in  1373,  the  site  of  which 
is  now  occupied  by  a  wndmill  built  of  its  stones.  At 
Monkhill  there  are  the  remains  of  a  Tudor  building  called 
the  Old  Hall,  probably  constructed  out  of  the  old  priory 
of  St  John's.  A  grammar  school  of  ancient  foundation, 
renewed  by  Queen  Elizabeth  and  by  Cteorge  III.,  is  now 
in  abeyance.  The  town-hall  was  built  in  1796  on  the  site 
of  one  erected  in  16.56,  which  succeeded  the  old  moot-hall, 
dating  from  Saxon  times.  Among  other  buildings  are  the 
court-house,  the  market^hall,  the  assembly  rooms  (a  hand- 
some building  adjoining  the  town-hall),  and  the  dispensary. 
The  principal  alms-house,  that  of  St  Nicholas,  dates  from 
Saxon  times.  Trinity  Hospital  was  founded  in  the  14th 
century  by  the  celebrated  Sir  Hobert  KnoUes.  There  are 
extensive  gardens  and  nurseries  in  the  neighbourhood,  and 
liquorice  is  largely  grown  fr-  the  manufacture  of  the  cele- 
brated Pomfret  cakes.  The  town  possesses  iron  found- 
ries, sack  and  matting  manufactories,  tanneries,  breweries, 
corn  mills,  and  brick  and  terra-cotta  works.  The  popula- 
tion of  the  municipal  borough  (extended  in  1875)  in  1871 
was  6432,  and  in  1881  it  was  8798,  the  popuktion  of  the 
parliamentary  borough  (area  7316  acres)  in  the  same  years 
being  11.563  and  15,322.  The  increase  is  mainly  due  to 
the  fact  that  Pontefract  is  now  a  military  centre. 

There  are  indications  that  the  Romans  wcr  ■  stationed  near  the 
present  town,  which  adjoins  the  Ermine  Street.  In  Domesday  it 
13  called  Tateshale,  and  is  said  previously  to  have  heen  held  by  the 
king  (Edward  the  Confessor).  It  then  possessed  a  church  and 
priest,  one  fishery,  and  three  mills.  Subsequently  it  is  mentioned 
as  Kirkby.  Of  the  cause  of  the  change  of  the  name  to  Pontefract 
various  unsatisfactory  explanations  are  given.  According  to  one 
account  it  was  because  when  William  advanced  to  the  conmiest  of 
the  north  his  passage  was  delayed  by  a  broken  bridge  (but  tnis  was 
at  Ferrybridge,  3  miles  olf);  according  to  a  second  the  name  was 
bestowed  on  it  by  its  Norman  possessor  from  Pontfrete  in  Nor- 
mandy (which,  however,  never  existed) ;  and  according  to  a  third 
the  name  perpetuates  the  remarkable  preservation  from  drowning 
of  those  who  fell  into  tlie  river  when  the  concourse  of  people  made 
the  bridge  give  way  on  the  arrival  of  St  William  of  Canterbury  in 
1153  (altliough  all  contemporary  historians  call  the  place  Ponte- 
fract when  Archbishop  Thurstan  died  there  in  1140)  The  town 
received  a'charter  from  Roger  do  Lacy  in  1194,  and  was  incorpor- 
ated in  the  time  of  Richard  III.  As  early  as  1207  it  returned  two 
members  to  parliament ;  but  there  was  a  long  discontinuance  iu  the 
14th,  15th,  and  16th  centuries.  The  practice  was  revived  under 
James  I.  The  "redistribution"  measure  of  188.5  deprives  it  of 
one  of  its  members.  The  municipal  borough  is  divided  into  three 
wards,  and  is  governed  by  six  aldermen  and  eighteen  councillors. 

PONTEVEDRA,  a  maritime  province  of  Spain,  is 
bounded  on  the  N.  by  Corufia,  on  the  E.  by  Lugo  and 
Orense,  on  the  S.  by  Portugal  (Entre  Douro  e  Minlio),  and 
on  the  W.  by  the  Atlantic,  and  has  an  area  of  1739  square 
miles.  The  general  character  of  the  province  is  hilly,  with 
a  deeply  indented  coast ;  its  products  are  those  common 
to  all  Galicia  (q.v.),  of  which  historical  province  it  formed 
a  part.  The  population  in  1877  was  4.')1,946,  the 
municipalities  with  a  population  over  10,000  being  La 
Estrada  (23,528),  Lalin  (16,217),  Lavadorcs  (13,658), 
PoNTEVEDiiA.  (uoticcd  bclow),  Puenteartas  ( 1 4 ,566),  lledon- 
dela  (10,073),  Silleda   (13,346),  Tomino  (  11,150),  Tuy 


(11,710),  and  Vigo  (13,416).  Vigo  is  connected  by  rail 
with  Tuy  and  Orense,  and  the  Une  from  Santiago  to 
Vigo  is  open  as  far  as  to  Carril. 

PONTEVEDRA,  capital  of  the  above  province,  and  an 
episcopal  see,  is  a  picturesque  old  granite-built  town, 
pleasantly  situated  at  the  head  of  the  Ria  de  Pontevedra, 
where  the  Lerez  is  spanned  by  the  old  Roman  bridge 
(whence  the  name — po7is  veins).  The  inhabitants  engage 
in  agriculture,  sardine  fishing,  and  the  manufacture  of 
cloth  and  hats.  The  population  of  the  municipality  in 
1877  was  19,857. 

PONTIaNAK.     See  Borneo. 

PONTIFEX.  The  principal  college  of  priests  in  ancient 
Rome  consisted  of  the  pontifices,  the  rex  sacrorum,  and  the 
flamines,  under  the  headship  of  the  pontifex  viaximut. 
The  rex  sacrorum  was  the  functionary  who  under  the 
republic  succeeded  to  the  sacrificial  duties  which  in  old 
time  had  been  performed  by  the  king ;  the  flamines  were 
sacrificial  priests  of  particular  gods,  the  most  important 
being  the  flamen  Dialis,  or  priest  of  Jupiter,  whose  wife, 
theyfamtreica  Dialis,  was  priestess  of  Juno.  The  pontifices 
on  the  other  hand  were  not  assigned  to  the  service  of 
particular  gods,  but  performed  general  functions  of  the 
state  religion ;  and  their  head,  the  pontifex  maximus,  was 
the  highest  religious  authority  in  the  state.  For,  while 
the  rex  sacrorum  succeeded  to  the  liturgical  functions  of 
the  king,  it  was  the  pontifex  maximus  who  inherited  the 
substance  of  power  in  sacred  things ;  the  other  members 
of  the  college  were  his  counsellors  and  helpers,  but  no 
more.  It  is  probable  that  there  was  no  supreme  pontifex 
under  the  kings,  but  that  in  accordance  with  the  general 
rule  that  sacred  officers  went  in  threes,  following  the 
number  of  the  old  tribes,  the  king  sat  as  sixth  and  chief 
among  the  five  pontifices  whom  Numa  is  said  to  have 
instituted.  The  functions  of  pontifex  maximus  were  indeed 
too  weighty  to  be  discharged  by  a  subject  in  a  monarchical 
government,  and  from  Augustus  to  Gratian  (382  a.d.)  this 
supreme  priesthood  was  held  by  the  emperors  in  person. 
The  original  idea  of  the  pontificate  is  as  obscure  as  the 
name;  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  pontifex  means 
bridge-maker  (as  the  commonest  etymology  has  it)  with 
reference  to  the  duty  of  maintenance  of  the  sacred 
Sublician  bridge,  for  there  were  pontifices  from  of  old  in 
other  parts  of  Italy.  Marquardt  conjectures  that  the 
name  originally  denoted  atoning  functions,  from  the  same 
root  as  appears  in  punts,  pcena.  In  historical  times  the 
pontificesh&d  a  very  extended  sphere  of  duties,  and  claimed 
to  possess  professional  "knowledge  of  things  human  and 
divine."  'The  supreme  pontiff. was  in' the  religion  of  the 
state  what  the  father  was  in  the  religion  of  the  family. 
His  dwelling  was  in  the  regia  close  to  the  altai-  of  Vesta, 
the  sacred  hearth  of  the  state ;  and  the  most  sacred 
objects  of  national  worship,  the  pennies  publici  and  tue 
mysterious  palladia  of  Roman  sovereignty,  were  his  special 
care.  The  flamens  and  vestal  virgins  were  appointed  by 
him  and  stood  under  his  paternal  power,  and  the  stated 
service  of  their  cults,  as  well  as  those  exercises  of  public 
religion  for  which  no  special  priests  were  provided,  were 
under  his  charge  or  that  of  the  college  in  which  he  pre- 
sided. The  pontiff.",  moreover,  supjilicd  technical  guidance 
and  help  in  those  religious  functions  in  which  the  senate 
or  magistrates  had  the  first  part ;  while  the  charge  of  the 
calendar  with  its  complicated  intercalation  and  system  of 
feast  days  gave  them  an  imjiortant  influence  on  affairs  of 
civil  life.  The  control  of  the  calendar  is  closely  connected 
with  the  duties  pcrtainiii  '        ulificnl  archives,  which, 

besides  a  ma.ss  of  ritual  and  the  like,  embraced 

the  calendars  of  past  years  (uwluJing  tho  fnsli  conmiUtres) 
and  the  annates  maxinii  or  annual  chronicle  of  public 
events.     Further  the  pontiffs  had  tho  weighty  function  of 


456 


P  0  N  —  P  O  N 


declaring  and  interpreting  the  laws  of  religion,  wliicli 
involved  such  important  socip.l  matters  as  marriage  and 
testamentary  dispositions  j  but  this  function  was  declara-' 
tory  and  not  magisterial ;  the  state  gave  no  executive 
poTfer  to  the  pontiffs,  save  only  that  the  poniifex  maximus 
exercised  disciplinary  authority  over  those  priestly  persons 
T;ho  stood  under  his  paternal  power.  The  pontiffs,  who 
held  office  for  life,  originally  filled  up  the  vacancies  in 
their  number  by  cooptation,  but  as  early  as  212  B.C.  the 
head  of  their  college  was  named  by  the  voice  of  the 
people,  and  in  104  b.c.  the  choice  of  the  members  of  the 
priestly  colleges  was  also  transferred  to  comitia  of  a 
peculiar  constitution.  The  number  of  pontifices  was 
gradually  enlarged,  first  to  nine  and  then,  under  Sulla,  to 
fifteen,  and  the  emperors  exercised  the  right  of  adding 
supernumeraries  at  wilL 

PONTINE  MAESHES.     See  Latium,  vol.  xiv.  p.  343. 

PONTOISE,  a  commercial  town  of  France,  at  the  head 
of  an  arrondissement  of  the  department  Seine-et-Oise,  18 
miles  by  rail  north-west  of  Paris,  picturesquely  situated  on' 
the  right  bank  of  the  Oise  where  it  is  joined  by  the 
Viosne,  and  at  the  intersection  of  the  railway  from  Paris 
to  Dieppe  by  Gisors  with  that  of  the  valley  of  the  Oise. 
The  traffic  on  the  main  river  is  large,  and  the  tributary 
drives  numerous  mills.  Of  the  many  convents  and 
churches  that  used  to  exist  in  the  town  two  only  remain  : 
St  Maclou,  a  church  of  the  12  th  century,  was  altered  and 
restored  in  the  15th  and  16  th  centuries  by  Pierre  Lemer- 
cier,  the  famous  architect  of  St  Eustache  at  Paris;  and 
Notre  Dame,  of  the  close  of  the  16th  century,  contains  the 
tomb  of  St  Gautier  (13th  century).  Grain  and  flour  are 
the  principal  staples  of  the  trade  of  Pontoise ;  the  popula- 
tion in  1881  was  6675. 

'  Pontoise  existed  in  the  time  of  the  Gauls  as  Brivalsarae  {i.e.. 
Bridge  of  tlie  Oise).  The  Romans  made  it  the  scat  of  forges  dedi- 
cated to  Vulcan,  and  thus  the  district  came  to  be  distinguished 
as  Pagus  Vulcanius  or  the  Vexin.  Pontoise  was  destroyed  by  the 
Normans  in  the  9th  century,  united  with  Normandy  in  1032,  and 
acquired  by  Philip  I.  in  1064.  tying  on  the  borders  of  the  two 
states  it  often  passed  from  one  to  the  other.  Tlie  English  took 
it  in  1419,  and  again  in  1436.  In  1441  Charles  VII.  took  it  by 
storm  after  a  three  months'  siege.  After  belonging  to  the  count 
of  Charolais  down  to  the  treaty  of  Con  flans,  it  was  given  as  a 
dowry  to  Jeanne  of  France  when  .she  was  divorced  by  Louis  XII. 
The  parlement  of  Paris  several  times  met  in  the  town ;  and  in 
1561  the  states -genera!  convoked  at  Orleans  removed  thither  after 
the  death  of  Francis  II.  During  the  Fronde  it  ottered  a  refuge 
to  Louis  XIV.  and  Mazarin.  Henry  III.  made  it  an  apanage  for 
his  brother  the  duke  of  Anjou.  At  a  later  period  it  passed  to  the 
duke  of  Conti.  Down  to  the  Revolution  it  remained  a  monastic 
town.  Philip  the  Bold,  founder  of  the  hou.se  of  Burgundy,  the 
architects  Pierre  and  Jacques  Leujercier,  and  Tronson-Ducondray, 
one  of  the  defenders  of  Marie  Antoinette,  are  among  the  native.'! 
of  Pontoise. 

PONTOON.  Pontoons  are  vessels  employed  to  sup- 
part,  the  roadway  of  floating  bridges.  They  may  be  either 
open  or  closed,  heavy  and  only  movable  when  floated,  or 
light  enough  to  be  taken  out  of  the  water  and  transported 
overland,  as  when  required  to  form  part  of  the  equipment 
of  an  army  in  the  field. 

From  time  immemorial  floating  bridges  of  vessels 
bearing  a  roadway  of  beams  and  planks  have  been 
employed  to  facilitate  the  passage  of  rivers  and  arms  of  the 
sea.  Xerxes  crossed  the  HeUespont  on  a  double  bridge, 
one  line  supported  on  three  hundred  and  sixty,  the 
other  on  three  hundred  and  fourteen  vessels,  anchored 
head  and  stern  with  their  keels  in  the  direction  of 
the  current,  Darius  throw  similar  bridges  across  the 
Bosphorus  and  the  Danube  in  his  war  against  the 
Scythians,  and  the  Greeks  employed  a  bridge  of  boats  to 
cross  the  river  Tigris  in  their  retreat  from  Persia.  Float- 
ing bridges  have  been  repeatedly  constructed  over  rivers 
in  Europe  and  Asia,  not  merely  temporarily  for  the  passage 
of  an  army,  but  permanently  for  the  requirements  of  the 


'  country ;  and  to  this  day  many  of  the  great  rivers  in  India 
are  crossed,  on  the  lines  of  the  principal  roads,  by  floating 
bridges,  which  are  for  the  most  part  supported  on  boats 
such  as  are  employed  for  ordinary  traffic  on  the  river. 

But  light  vessels  which  can  be  taken  out  of  the  water  and 
lifted  •  on  to  carriages  are  required  for  transport  with  an 
army  in  the  field.  Alexander  the  Great  occasionally  carried 
with  his  army  vessels  divided  into  portions,  which  were 
put  together  on  reaching  the  banks  of  a  river,  as  in  crossing 
the  Hydaspes ;  he  is  even  said  to  have  carried  his  army 
over  the  Oxus  by  means  of  rafts  made  of  the  hide  tents  of 
the  soldiers  stuffed  with  straw,  when  he  found  that  all  the 
river  boats  had  been  burnt.  Cyrus  crossed  the  Euphrates 
on  stuffed  skins.  In  the  4th  centiu-y  the  emperor  Julian 
crossed  the  Tigris,  Euphrates,  and  other  rivers  by  bridges 
of  boats  made  of  skins  stretched  over  osier  frames.  In  the 
17th  century  the  Germans  employed  timber  frames  covered 
with  leather  as  pontoons,  and  the  Dutch  similar  frames 
covered  with  tin  ;  and  the  practice  of  carrying  about  skins 
to  be  inflated  and  employed  for  the  passage  of  troops  across 
a  river,  which  was  adopted  by  both  Greeks  and  Romans, 
still  exists  in  the  East,  and  has  been  introduced  into 
America  in  a  modified  form,  india-rubber  being  substituted 
for  skins. 

Pontoons  have  been  made  of  a  variety  of  forms  and  of 
almost  every  conceivable  description  of  material  available 
for  the  purpose  of  combining  the  two  essential  qualities  of 
transportability  over  land  and  power  of  support  in  water. 
As  these  qualities  are  not  only  distinct  but  conflicting,  one 
of  them  has  been  frequently  sacrificed  to  the  other.  Thus 
history  records  many  instances  of  bridges  having  failed 
because  incapable  of  supporting  all  the  weight  they  were 
called  on  to  bear,  or  of  resisting  the  force  of  the  current 
opposed  to  them ;  it  also  records  instances  of  important 
strategical  operntions  being  frustrated  because  the  bridge 
equipment  could  not.  be  brought  up  in  time  to  the  spot 
where  it  was  wanted.  Numerous  expedients  for  lightening 
the.  equipment  have '  been  suggested,  in  America  more 
particularly ;  but  the  proposers  have  not  always  re- 
membered that  if  a  military  bridge  is  intended  to  be 
carried  mih  aa  army  it  is  also  intended  to  carry  the  army, 
with  its  columns  of  infantry  and  cavalry,  its  numerous 
waggons;  and  its  ponderous  artillery,  and  if  ought  to  do 
so  with  certainty  and  safety,  even  though  a  demoralized 
rabble  should  rush  upon  it  in  throngs. 

■>  Pontoons  have  bsen  made  of  two  forms,  open  as  an 
undecked  boat,  or  closed  as  a  decked  canoe  or  cylinder. 
The  advantage  claimed  for  the  'closed  pontoon  is  that' it 
cannot  be  submerged  by  the  river,  but  only  by  having 
to  bear  a  greater  load  than  its  buoyancy  admits  of ;  the 
disadvantages  are  that  it  is  difficult  to  make  and  keep 
water-tight,  it  requires  special  saddles  for  the  support  of 
the  baulks  which  carry  the  roadway,  and  it  cannot  be 
conveniently  used  as  a  row-boat.  During  the  Peninsular 
War  the  English  employed  open  bateaus,  as  did  and  still 
dj  aU  the  other  European  nations ;  but  the  experience 
gained  in  that  war  induced  the  English  to  abandon  the 
open  bateau ;  for  if  large  it  was  very  difficult  to  transport 
across  country,  and  if  small  it  was  only  suited  for  tranquil 
streams,  being  liable  to  fill  and  sink  should  the  river  rise 
suddenly  or  become  disturbed  by  the  wind.  Thus  closed 
pontoons  came  to  be  introduced  into  the  British  army. 
General  Colleton  de-vised  the  first  substitute  for  the  open 
bateau,  a  buoy  pontoon,  cyiindricai  with  conical  ends  and 
made  of  vrooden  staves  like  a  cask.  Then  General  Pasley 
introduced  demi-pontoons,  like  decked  canoes  with  pointed 
bows  and  square  sterns,  a  pair,  attached  sternwise,  forming 
a  single  "pier"  of  support  for  the  roadway;  they  were 
constructed  of  light  timber  frames  covered  with  sheet 
copper  and  were  decked  with  wood;   each  demi-pontooc 


PONTOON 


457 


was  diviclcJ  internally  into  separate  compartments  by 
partitions  whicli  were  made  as  watertigli't  as  possible,  and 
also  supplied  witji  the  means  of  pumping  out  water  ;  when 
transported  overland  with  an  army,  a  pair  of  derai-pontoons 
and  the  superstructure  of  one  bjiy  formed  the  load  for 
a  single  carriage  weighing  3110  ft  when  loaded.  The 
I'aslcy  was  superseded  by  the  Blanshard  pontoon,  a  tin 
coated  cylinder  with  hemispherical  ends,  for  which  great 
mobility  was  claimed,  two  pontoons  and  two  bays'  super- 
structure being  carried  on  one  waggon,  giving  a  weight  of 
about  5000  lb,  which  was  intended  to  be  drawn  by  four 
horses.  The  Blanshard  pontoon  was  long  adopted  for  the 
British  army,  but  it  is  now  being  discarded  ;  experiments 
made  with  it  in  peace  time  showed  that  it  would  probably 
break  down  under  the  strain  of  actual  warfare,  and  efforts 
were  constantly  made  to  improve  on  it ;  when  immersed 
to  a  greater  depth  than  the  semi-diameter  it  became  very 
unstable  and  lively  under  a  passing  load,  a  defect  which 
Serjeant-Major  Forbes  proposed  to  remedy  by  giving  it  a 
triangular  instead  of  a  circular  section,  thus  increasing  the 
stability  by  presenting  a  continually  increasing  area  of 
bearing  surface  up  to  the  level  of  total  immersion  ;  but  the 
angles  of  these  pontoons  were  found  so  liable  to  injury 
as°to  counterbalance  any  advantages  over  the  cylinders. 


I  \fter  many  years'  experience  of  the  closed  pontoon  the 
Ent'lish  engineers  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was 
desirable  to  return  to  the  form  of  the  open  bateau  to  which 
the  en"ineers  of  all  the  Continental  armies  had  meanwhile 
constantly  adhered.  Captain  Fowke,  R.E.,  invented  a 
folding  open  bateau,  made  of  water-proof  canvas  attached 
to  sliding  ribs,  so  that  for  transport  it  can  be  collapsed 
like  the  bellows  of  an  accordion  and  for  use  it  can  be  ex- 
tended  by  a  pair  of  stretchers ;  it  is  very  mobile,  but  it  is; 
also  deficient  in  power  of  support,  for  whereas  the  buoy- 
ancy due  to  the  outline  form  out  of  the  water  is  13,600  lb 
the  actual  buoyancy  in  the  water  is  only  8649  lb,  because 
of  the  cavities  in  the  canvas  between  the  ribs  which  are 
formed  by  the  pressure  of  the  water  outside  ;  moreover, 
the  surface  irregularities  cause  the  pressure  exerted  by  a 
current  upon  a  bridge  formed  of  these  collapsible  pontoons 
to  be  about  three  times  as  much  as  upon  one  of  equal 
power  formed  with  Blanshard's  or  Pasley's  pontoons  ;  there 
is  thus  great  risk  of  the  bnilge  being  carried  away  by  a 

strong  current. 

The  following  table  shows  the  powers  of  various  pontoons  at 
present  or  recently  in  use  by  difl-erent  nations  Tlie  working 
power  of  support "  has  been  calculated  m  most  instances  by  deduct- 
ing from  the  "available  buoyancy"  one-fourth  for  open  and  one- 
tenth  for  closed  vessels  : — 


The  Powers  of  Various  Pontoon  Bridges. 


Pontoon. 


Gribeauval:  open  bateau,  oak 

Austrian:  open,  wooden,  1799 • 

Aust.-Birago:  open,  wooden;  two  pieces 

„  „  three    , 

,,  ,,     iron  ;  two  pieces 

,,  „        »      three    ,,     

French:  open,  wooden;  reserve 

,,  ,,  „         advanced  guard 

(?e»eral.... 

Prussian:  open,  wooden;  open  order 

close  order 

„  ,,  iron ;  open  order 

,,  ,,  „      close  order 

Italian:  open,  wooden;  one  piece 

two  pieces 

,,        modified;  onepieco 

„  ,,  two  pieces 

„      .        (open,     canvas     on  I  open  orfcr — 
Uussian :  j  ^o^jen  framework  ;  (  close  order.... 

Belgian:  open,  iron  ;  one  piece 

,,  ,,       ,,        two  pieces 

.       .  I  india-rubber,   three  |  open  order. 
American  :  j  gyjinj^rs  connected  (  close  order. 

English  Pontoons. 

rcninF.ular       )  open,  tin  ;  reserve 

ciiuipment:  (     ,,       ,,       advanced  guard.... 

rnsley  :  closed  demi-canoo;  copper 

Blanshard:  cylinder,  tin  ;  open  order 

,1  ,,         ,,       close  order 

,,  ,,•  ,,  infantry  pattern... 
Fowke:  open,  collapsible,  canvas;  open  order. 
Forbes  :  closed,  spherangular,  tin  ;  open  order.. 
Blood:  open,  wooden;  general 


Ft. 
36-3 
27-0 
28-0 
39-4 
28-0 
39-4 
30-9 
19-7 
30-9 
237 
23-7 
24-7 
24-7 
19-6 
39-2 
24-G 
49-2 
21-0 
21 '0 
24-8 
49-2 
20  0 
20-0 


18-9 
15-1 
25  0 
22-5 
22-5 
15-5 
220 
24-2 
21-6 


Cuh.  Ft. 
593 
354 
303 
445 
353 
530 
323 
156 
321 
164 
164 
214 
214  , 
283 
565 
325 
649 
209 
209 
297 
595 
130 
130 


209 
120 
141 
109 
109 
26 
134 
128 
280 


a  s 


£0. 


t-  C  3 
t>  03  W 


It) 

45,044 
22,123 
18,907 
27,791 
22,090 
33,135 
20,286 
9,734 
20,065 
10,226 
10,226 
13,385 
13,385 
17,660 
35,320 
20,290 
40,680 
13,042 
13,012 
18,584 
37,168 
8,126 
8,125 


13,092 
7,520 
8,781 
6,785 
6,785 
1,040 
8,460 
7,977 

17,500 


8,044 
3,332 
3,249 
3,884 
3,698 
4,501 
8,608 
1,506 
3,153 
2,393 
2,213 
2,209 
2,029 
3,582 
4,672 
3,401 
4,489 
2,356 
2,083 
3,336 
4,543 
1,980 
1,824 

2,374 
1,654 
2,103 
1,000 
1,408 
340 
1,210 
1,689 
2,300 


=3 
< 


lb 

37.000 

18,791 

16,658 

23,907 

18,392 

28,634 

16,678 

8,228 

16,912 

7,833 

8,013 

11,176 

11,356 

14,078 

30,748 

16,889 

36,091 

10,087 

lO,?.^ 

10,248 

32,620 

6,145 

^,301 

10,718 
5,866 
6,678 
6,185 
5,377 
1,300 
7,214 
0,288 

15,200 


o 

a  p. 


oa 


lb 

27,750 

14,093 

11,744 

17,930 

13,794 

21,476 

12,509 

6,171 

12,684 

5,875 

6,010 

8,382 

8,517 

10,559 

23,061 

12,669 

27,068 

8,015 

8,219 

11,436 

24,465 

5,630 

6,701 

8,039 
4,400 
0,010 
4,667 
4,839 
1,170 
6,411 
r>,6.'i9 
13,350 


Ft. 
22-8 
16-6 
21-7 
21-7 
21-7 
21-7 
19-7 
16-4 
19-7 
15-3 
11-2 
15-3 
11-2 
26-3 
26-3 
23-0 
23-0 
16-6 
11-7 
19-7 
19-7 
18-0 
11-7 


16-8 
14-0 
12-6 
12-5 
8-3 
6-3 
100 
110 
150 


1^ 

01 

c  » 

•s 

■Sfi-S 

3^ 

•5 

So" 

&>  Ot 

^ 

11 

n 

111! 

tt) 

lb 

Ft. 

tb 

1,215 

840 

15 

6 

35,563 

849 

560 

U 

4 

18,924 

,542 

560 

9 

3 

20,181 

827 

560 

9 

3 

20,181 

636 

560 

9 

3 

20,181 

991 

560 

9 

3 

20,181 

636 

660 

10 

5 

20,685 

376 

560 

9 

3 

16,252 

644 

560 

9 

8 

19,306 

384 

560 

9 

9 

15,147 

535 

560 

9 

9 

11,088 

501 

560 

9 

9 

15,147 

759 

560 

9 

9 

11,088 

402 

560 

9 

8 

25,774 

878 

560 

9 

8 

25,774 

551 

560 

9 

8 

22,540 

1,178 

560 

9 

8 

22,540 

493 

660 

10 

4 

17,264 

705 

560 

10 

4 

12,168 

580 

560 

9 

'•> 

18,715 

1,244 

600 

9 

5 

18,715 

307 

580 

11 

0 

19,600 

393 

560 

11-0 

18,370 

477 

560 

10-0 

16,800 

314 

500 

9-0 

12,600 

481 

560 

10  0 

12,500 

373 

560 

10-0 

12,500 

681 

660 

100 

8,300 

220 

280 

7  0 

3,710 

641 

500 

10-0 

10,000 

514 

660 

100 

11,000 

890 

060 

10 

■0 

16,000 

In  the  English  and  French  equipment  the  pontoons  were 
originally  made  of  two  sizes,  the  smaller  and  fighter  for  tlio 
"advanced  guard,"  the  larger  and  heavier,  for  tlio  "reserve";  in 
both  equipments  the  same  size  pontoon  is  now  adopted  for  general 
requirements,  the  superstruoturo  being  strengthened  when  necessary 
for  very  heavy  weights.  The  Austrian  and  Italian  pontoons  are 
made  in  three  pieces,  two  with  bows  and  n  middle  picec  without; 
not  less  than  two  pieces  are  ordinarily  employed,  and  the  third  is 
tjitvoduccd  when  great  supporting  jiowcr  is  rcquiicil,  but  in  all  casei. 
a  constant  interval  is  maiulaincd  bjtweon  the  pontoons.     On  the 


other  hand  in  the  Prussian,  Russian,  Dutch,  and  Aniorienn  and  m 
tlio  F.nglish  Blanshard  equipments  grenter  snpporting  power  is 
obtained  not  by  ineroasiiig  the  number  of  supports  butl.v  diminisli- 
ing  the  central  interval  between  tho  pontoons.  A\itlnn  certain 
limiU  it  does  not  matter  whelber  tlie  buoyancy  is  made  up  of  a 
largo  number  of  sniall  or  a  small  number  of  large  vessels,  so  long  as 
tho  waterway  is  not  nndulv  contracted  ami  tho  obslnirtion  otTired 
to  a  swift  current  dangrrous.1v  increased  ;  but  it  is  to  be  remembered 
that  pontoon  bridges  have  failed  as  frequently  from  being  woslie.! 
away  as  from  insufficient  buoyancy. 

XIX.   —   tS 


453 


P  O  N  — P  0  N 


On  comparing  the  "avaflable  buoj-ancy"  with  the  "greatest 
possible  load  at  100  lb  per  foot  superlicial  of  roadway  "  for  each  of 
the  bridge  equipments  in  the  preceding  table,  it  will  be  seen  that 
very  few  of  the  bridges  are  really  capable  of  carrying  the  maximum 
load  they  may  be  called  on  to  bear.  Strictly  speaking  the  roadway 
superficies  should  in  all  instances  bfe  proportioned  to  the  buoyancy 
cf  the  pontoon,  or,  as  the  central  interval  between  the  pontoons 
cannot  be  reduced  below  certain  limits,  the  width  of  the  roadway 
should  be  proportioned  to  the  buoyancy  ;  in  other  words  the 
"  chesses  "  or  planks  which  form  the  roadway  should  be  made  of  a 
shorter  length  for  a  bridge  which  is  designed  for  light  traffic  than 
for  one  which  is  designed-  for  heavy  traffic.  The  employment  of 
chesses  of  different  lengths  for  the  pontoon  equipment  of  an  army 
would,  however,  be  very  inconvenient  and  troublesome,  and  this  has 
led  to  the  adoption  of  a  constant  breadth  of  roadway,  on  the  under- 
standing  that  the  traffic  will  always  be  controlled  by  the  officer,  in 
charge  of  the  bridge. 

The  latest  form  of  pontoon  for  the  English  army  is  one  with 
which  the  name  of  Colonel  Blood,  R.E.,  is  mainly  associated.  Its 
powers  are  given  in  the  lowest  line  of  the  preceding  table.  It  is  an 
open  bateau  with  decked  ends  and  sides  partly  decked  where  the 
rowlock  blocks  are  fixed.  It  consists  of  six  sets  of  framed  ribs  con- 
nected by  a  deep  kelson,  two  side  streaks,  and  three  bottom  streaks. 
The  sides  and  bottom  are  of  thin  yellow  pine  with  canvas  secured 
to  both  surfaces  by  india-rubber  solution,  and  coated  outside  with 
marine  glue.  The  central  interval  between  the  pontoons  in  forming 
a  bridge  is  invariably  maintained  at  15  feet ;  for  the  support  of  the 
roadway  five  baulks  are  ordinarily  employed,  but  nine  for  the 
passage  of  siege  artillery  and  the  heaviest  loads  ;  they  fit  on  to 
saddles  resting  on  central  saddle  beams.  The  pontoons  are  not 
immersed  to  within  1  foot  of  the  tops  of  their  'coamings  "  when 
carrying  ordinary  loads,  as  of  infantry  in  marching  order  "  in  fours  " 
crowded  at  a  check,  or  the  16-pounder  gun,  which  weighs  4800  lb  ; 
nor  are  they  immersed  to  within  6  inches  when  carrying  extraor- 
dinary loads,  such  as  disorganized  infantry,  or  the  6f-pounder  gun 
weighing  11,100  1b.  In  designing  this  pontoon  the  chief  points 
attended  to  were— (1)  improvement  in  power  of  support,  (2)  simpli- 
fication in  bridge  construction,  (3)  reduction  of  weight  in  transport) 
and  (i)  adaptation  for  use  singly  as  boats  for  ferrying  purposes. 
One  jiontoon  with  the  superstructure  for  a  single  bay  constitutes  a 
load  for  one  waggon,  with  a  total  weight  behind  horses  of  abotit 
4500  lb. 

For  the  British  army  in  India  the  standard  pontoon  for  many 
years  was  the  Fasley  ;  it  was  seldom  used,  however,  for  boats  could 
almost  always  be  procured  on  the  spot  in  sufficient  numbers 
wherever  a  floating  bridge  had  to  be  constructed.  Of  late  years  an 
equipment  has  been  prepared  for  the  Indian  army  of  demi-pontoons, 
similar  to  the  Blood  pontoon  cut  in  half,  and  therefore  more 
mobile  ;  each  has  a  bow  and  a  square  stern,  and  they  are  joined  at 
the  sterns  when  required  to  form  a  "pier"  ;  they  are  fitted  with 
movable  covers  and  can  therefore  be  used  in  much  rougher  water 
than  pontoons  of  the  homo  pattern,  and  their  power  of  support  and 
brejdth  of  roadway  are  the  same. 

For  the  British  army  there  is  a  light  form  of  the  Blanshard 
pontoon  suitable  for  infantry  uncrowded,  guns  unlimbered,  and 
cavalry  in  single  file.  The  fjerthon  collapsible  boat,  for  infantry 
in  single  file,  is  also  employed  ;  when  open  it  is  9  feet  long  and  4 
feet  wide;  it  weighs  109  lb  with  a  pair  of  oars  and  a  removable 
thwart  or  seat  (to  enable  it  to  be  used  as  a  boat),  and  can  be 
slung  on  to  a  bamboo  and  carried  by  two  men  ;  the  superstructure 
for  one  bay  weighs  97  lb,  and  is  also  carried  by  two  men  ;  the  width. 
of  roadway  is  18  inches  ;  twelve  boats  are  required  to  bridge  a 
stream  100  feet  in  width. 

The  india-rubber  pontoon  does  not  appear  to  have  been  generally 
employed  even  in  America,  where  it  was  invented.  Tlie  engineer 
officers  with  the  army  of  the  Potomac,  after  full  experience  of  the 
india-rubber  pontoon  and  countless  other  inventions  of  American 
genius,  adopted  the  French  equipment,  which  they  found  "most 
excellent,  useful,  and  reliable  for  all  military  purposes."  The 
Russians  in  crossing  the  Danube  in  their  war  with  Turkey  in  1878 
employed  the  Austrian  equipment. 

ArjthorHtes. — Colonel  Lovell,  R.E.,  Pro/.  Papers,  Royal  Euoineers,  vol.  xii., 
1363  ;  Brig.-Gen.  CuUum,  U.S.A.  Engineers.  StiHem  of  Military  Bridges  in  use 
by  the  United  States  Army,  1363;  Gen.  Barnard,  U.S.A.,  Report  on  Army  of 
Potomac,  1S63  ;  Lord  Wolseley,  Pocket-Book  for  Field  Service,  1882  ;  Military 
Bridges,  Chatham,  1879.  (J.  T.  V/.) 

PONTOPPIDAN,  Erik  (1698-1764:),  a  learned  Danish^ 
author,  was  born  at  Aarhuiis  on  August  24,  1G98,  and 
studied  divinity  at  the  university  of  Copenhagen.  On 
finishing  his  education  he  was  appointed  travelling  tutor 
to  several  young  noblemen  in  succes,sion,  and  in  1735  he 
became  one  of  the  chaplains  of  the  king.  <  In  1738  he  was 
made  professor  estraordinarius  of  theology  at  Copenhagen, 
and  in  1747  bishop  of  Bergen,  Norwaj',  where  he  died 
on  December  20,  1764. 


His  principal  woflcs  a.Te  —  The'itrHm  Danise  letcris  cl  mocurna 
(4to,  1730),  a  description  of  the  geograjihy,  natural  history, 
antiquities,  &c. ,  of  Denmark;  Gcsla  ct  fcstiijia  Dniwrum  aira 
Daiiiam  (2  vols.  8vo,  1740),  of  which  laborious  work  it  is  cuoiigb 
to  remark  that  it  was  written  before  the  rise  of  the  modejn 
historical  school;  Annates  Ecclesim  Danicx  (4  vols.  4to);  Marmora 
Danica  Sdectiora  (2  vols.  Col.,  1739-41);  Glossarium  S'orvcgkiiin 
(1749);  Del  forste  Forsog^aa  Norycs  naturlige  Jlislorie  (4to, 
1752-54;  Eng.  trans..  Natural  His(->Ty  of  Koriray,  1755),  contain- 
ing curious  accounts,  often  referred  to,  of  the  Ki-aakcn,  sea-serpent, 
and  the  like;  Origencs  Ha/nienscs  (17G0).  'His  Danske  Alias  (7 
vols.  4to)  was  mostly  posthumous. 

PONTORMO,  Jacopo  d.4  (1494-1557),  whose  family 
name  was  Carucci,  a  painter  of  the 'Florentine  school,  was 
born  at  Pontormo  in  1494,  son  of  a 'painter 'of  .ordinary 
ability,  was  apprenticed  to  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  and  after- 
wards took  lessons  from  Pier  di  Cosimo.  ,"■  At  the  age  of 
eighteen  he  became  a  journeyman  to  Andrea  del  Sarto,  and 
was  remarked  as  a  young  man  of  exceptional  accompli.>h- 
ment  and  promise.  -  Later  on,  but  still  in  early  youth,  lie 
executed,  in  continuation  of  Andrea's  labours,  the  Visita- 
tion, in  the  cloister  of  the  Servi  in  Florence — one  of  the 
principal  surviving  evidences  of  his  powers.  The  most 
extensive  series  of  works  which  he  ever  undertook  was  a 
set  of  frescos  in  the  church  of  S.  Lorenzo,  Florence,  from 
the  Creation  of  Man  to  the  Deluge,  closing  with  the  Last 
Judgment.  By  this  time,  towards  1546,  he  had  fallen 
under  the  dangerous  spell  of  Michelangelo's  colossal  genius 
and  superhuman  style ;  and  Pontormo,  after  working  on 
at  the  frescos  for  eleven  years,  left  them  incomplete,  and 
the  object  of  generaP  disappointment  and  disparagement. 
They  were  finished  by  his  leading  pupil  Anj,^io  Bronziio, 
but  have  long  since  vanished  under  whitewash.  Among 
the  best  works  of  Pontormo  are  his  portraits,  which  include 
the  likenesses  of  various  members  of  the  Medici  family ; 
they  are  vigorous,  animated,  and  highly  finished.  He  was 
fond  of  new  and  odd  experiments  both  in  style  of  art 
and  in  method  of  painting.  From  Da  Vinci  he  caught  one 
of  the  marked  physiognomic  traits  of  his  visages,  smiles 
and  dimples.  At  one  time  he  took  to  direct  imitation  or 
reproduction  of  Albert  Diirer,  and  executed  a  series  of 
paintings  founded  on  the  Passion  subjects  of  the  German 
master,  not  only  in  composition,  but  e\i;n  in  such  peculi- 
arities as  the  treatment  of  draperies,  &c.  Italian  critics, 
both  contemporary  and  of  later  date,  have  naturally 
regarded  this  as  a  very  perverse  aberration.  Pontormo 
di^d  of  dropsy  on  2d  January  1557,  mortified  at  the  ill 
success  of  his  frescos  in  S.  Lorenzo ;  he  was  buried  below 
his  work  in  the  Servi*.  He  was  a  man  of  solitary  self- 
neglectful  habits,  a  slow  worker,  receiving  comjiarativcly 
little  aid  from  scholars,  indifferent  to  gain  or  distin- 
guished patronage,  and  haunted  by  an  instinctive  horror 
of  death. 

POXTUS  was  the  name  given  in  ancient  times  to  an 
extensive  tract  of  country  in  the  north-east  of  Asia  Minoi^ 
bordering  on  Armenia  and  Colchis  (see  vol.  xv.  Plate  II.). 
It  was  not,  like  most  of  the  divisions  of  Asia,  a  national 
appellation,  but  a  purely  territorial  one,  derived  from  its 
proximity  to  the  Euxine,  often  called  simply  Pontus  by  the 
Greeks.  Originally  it  formed  part  of  the  extensive  region 
of  Cappadocia,  which  in  early  ages  extended  from  the 
borders  of  Cilicia  to  the  Euxine ;  but  afterwards  it  came 
to  be  divided  into  two  satrapies  or  governments,  of  which 
the  northernmost  came  to  be  distinguisjied  as  "  Cappadocia 
on  the  Pontus,"  and  thence  simply  as  "Pontus."  The 
term  is  not,  however,  found  either  in  Herodotus  or 
Xenophon,  though  the  latter  traversed  a  considerable  part 
of  the  region,  and  it  is  probable  that  it  did  not  come  into 
general  use  until  after  the  time  of  AW.xander  the  Great. 
Under  the  Persian  empire  the  province  continued  to  be 
governed  by  a.  satrap,  nominally  subject  to  the  great  king, 
but   apparently   enjoying    virtual     independence,    as   no 


P  O  N  —  P  O  N 


459 


mention  occurs  in  Xenoplion  of  the  Persian  authorities  in 
this  part  of  Asia.  The  first  of  those  local  satrajis  who 
assumed  the  title  of  king  was  Ariobarzanes,  about  the 
beginning  of  the  4th  century  B.C.,  who  was  reckoned  the 
founder  of  the  dynasty  ;  but  its  liistory  as  an  independent 
monarchy  really  begins  with  Jlithradates  II.,  who  com- 
menced his  reign  in  337  B.C.  From  this  time  Pontus  con- 
tinued to  be  ruled  by  a  succession  .of  kings  of  the  same 
dynasty,  mostly  bearing  the  name  of  Mithradates,  whose 
independoncb  was  respected  by  the  Macedonian  sovereigns 
of  Asia,  and  who  were  able  gradually  to  extend  their 
power  along  the  shores  of  the  Euxine.  The  capture 
of  the  important  city  of  Sinope  by  Pharnaces  I.  (about 
183  B.C.)  led  to  the  extension  of  their  frontier  to  that  of 
Bithynia ;  while  under  Mithradates  VI.,  commonly  known 
as  the  Great,  their  dominion  for  a  time  comprised  a  large 
part  of  Asia  Minor.  The  history  of  the  reign  of  that 
monarch  and  his  wars  with  the  Romans  will  be  found 
under  the  heading  Mithradates.  After  his  final  defeat  by 
Pompey  in  65  B.C.,  Pontus  was  again  confined  within  its 
original  limits,  but  was  united  with  Bithynia  as  a  Roman 
province,  and  this  union  generally  continued  to  subsist, 
though  not  without  interruption,  under  the  Roman  empire. 
A  portion  of  the  original  dominion  of  the  kings  of  Pontus 
was,  however,  separated  from  the  rest  by  Antony  in 
36  B.C.,  and  placed  under  the  government  of  a  Greek 
rhetorician  named  Poleraon,  whose  descendants  continued 
to  rule  it  till  the  reign  of  Nero,  when  it  was  finally 
annexed  to  the  Rohian  empire  (63  a.d.).  Hence  this  part 
of  the  country  came  to  be  known  as  Pontus  Polemoniacus, 
by  which  epithet  it  was  still  distinguished  as  a  Roman 
province.  The  interior  district  in  the  south-westj  ad- 
joining Galatia,  hence  came  to  be  known  as  Pontus 
Galaticus. 

Pontus,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  terra,  as  defined  by 
Strabo,  who  was  himself  a  native  of  the  country,  was 
bounded  by  the  river  Hal3's  on  the  west,  and  by  Colchis 
and  the  Lesser  Armenia  on  the  east.  Its  exact  frontier 
in  this  direction  is  not  specified,  but  it  may  be  taken  as 
extending  as  far  as  the  mouth  of  the  river  Acampsis.  The 
region  thus  limited  may  be  considered  as  divided  into 
two  portions,  differing  much  in  their  physical  characters. 
The  western  half  presents  considerable  plains  and  upland 
tracts  in  the  interior,  stretching  away  till  they  join  the 
still  more  extensive  uplands  of  Cappadocia  and  Galatia. 
Besides  the  great  river  Halys  that  forms  its  boundary' on 
the  west,  this  region  is  traversed. by  the  river  Iris,  and  its 
tributary  the  Lycus,  both  of  which  have  their  rise  in  the 
highlands  on  the  frontiers  of  Armenia,  and  are  very  con- 
siderable streams,  flowing  through  fertile  valleys.  The 
Thermodon,  which  enters  the  Euxine  a  little  to  the  cast  of 
the  Iris,  is  a  much  less  important  stream,  though  cele- 
brated from  its  connexion  with  the  fatle  of  the  Amazons. 
On  the  other  hand  the  eastern  portion  of  Pontus,  between 
Armenia  and  the  Euxine,  is  throughout  a  very  rugged  and 
mountainous  country,  furrowed  by  deep  valleys  descending 
from  the  inland  range  of  mountains,  known  to  the  c'jcients 
as  Paryadres,  which  has  a  direction  nearly  parallel  to  the 
sea-coast,  and  is  continued  to  the  frontiers  of  Colchis 
under  the  name  of  Scydises  and  various  other  appellations. 
These  mountains  have  in  all  ages  been  almost  inaccessible, 
and  even  in  the  time  of  Strabo  were  inhabited  by  wild 
tribes  who  had  never  been  really  reduced  tosubjection  by 
any  government.  But  the  coast  from  Trcbizond  westward 
is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  parts  of  Asia  Minor,  and  is 
justly  extolled  by  Strabo  for  its  wonderful  productiveness 
in  fruits  of  every  description. 

The  population  of  the  greater  part  of  Pontus  was 
undoubtedly  of  the  same  race  with  that  of  Cappadocia,  of 
which  it  originally  formed  a  part,  and  was  therefore  clearly 


of  Semitic  origin.'  Both  nations  were  frequently  comprised 
by  the  Greeks  under  the  term  Leucosyri  or  White  Gyrian-s. 
But  the  rugged  mountain  districts  in  the  north-east, 
towards  the  frontiers  of  Colchis  and  Armenia,  wcro 
occu|)ied  by  .t.  number  of  semi  barbarous  tribes,  of  whosa 
ethnical  relations  we  are  wholly  ignorant.  Such  were  the 
Chaldicans  or  Chalybes  (identified  by  the  Greeks  with  the 
people  of  that  name  mentioned  by  Homer),  the  Tibareni, 
the  Mosynocci,  and  the  ^Macrones.  Some  light  is  thrown 
on  the  manners  and  condition  of  these  people  by  Xcnophon, 
who  traversed  their  country  on  his  march  from  Trapezus 
to  Cotyora  {Anab.,  v.)  but  wo  have  otherwise  hardly  any 
information  concerning  them. 

The  sea-coast  of  Pontus,  like  the  rest  of  the  south  shore 
of  the  Euxine,  was  from  an  early  period  studded  with 
Greek  colonies,  most  of  them  of  Milesian  origin,  though 
in  many  cases  deriving  their  settlement  directly  from 
Sinope,  itself  a  colony  of  Miletus.  Next  to  that  city, 
between  the  mouth  of  the  Halys  and  that  of  the  Iris, 
stood  Amisus,  originally  a  colony  direct  from  Miletus,  but 
which  subsequently  received  a  body  of  Athenian  settlers. 
It  was  one  of  the  most  flourishing  of  the  Greek  colonies 
on  this  coast,  and  is  still  a  considerable  town  under  the 
name  of  Sarasun.  Proceeding  eastward  from  thence,  we 
find  Side,  called  in  later  times  Polemonium ;  Cotyora,  a 
colony  of  Sinope,  where  Xenophon  embarked  with  the  ten 
thousand  Greeks;  Cerasus,  afterwards  named  Pharnacia; 
and  Trapezus,  also  a  colony  of  Sinope,  which  was  a 
flourishing  and  important  town  in  the  days  of  Xenophon, 
but  did  not  attain  till  a  later  period  to  the  paramount 
position  which  it  occupied  under  the  Roman  and  Byzantine 
empire,  and  which  it  still  retains  under  the  name  of 
Tkebizond  (q.v.). 

But,  besides  these  Greek  settlements,  there  were  in  tho 
interior  of  Pontus  several  cities  of  considerable  importance, 
which  were  of  native  origin,  though  they  had  gradually 
received  a  certain  amount  of  Greek  culture.  Tho  principal 
of  these  were  Amasia,  on  the  river  Iris,  the  birth-place  of 
Strabo,  which  was  made  the  capital  of  his  kingdom  by 
Mithradates  the  Great,  but  had  previously  been  the 
burial-place  of  the  earlier  kings,  whoso  tombs  are  still 
extant,  and  have  been  described  by  Hamilton  and  other 
travellers ;  Comana,  higher  up  the  valley  of  the  same 
river,  which,  like  the  place  of  the  same  name  in  Cappadocia, 
was  consecrated  to  a  native  goddess  named  Ma,  identified 
by  Strabo  with  the  Greek  Enyo,  and  derived  great  cole-. 
brity  from  its  sacred  character,  .having  a  large  fixed  popu- 
lation under  tho  direct  government  of  the  priests,  besides 
being  tho  resort  of  thousands  of  pilgrims  ;  Zela,  nearer 
the  frontier  of  Galatia,  which  was  in  like  manner  conse- 
crated to  a  goddess  named  Anaitis ;  and  Cabira,  in  the 
valley  of  the  Lycus,  afterwards  called  NeocK;sarea,  a  name 
still  retained  in  the  abbreviated  form  of  tho  modern 
Niksar.  Several  smaller  towns  are  mentioned  by  Strabo 
as  giving  name  to  the  surrounding  districts,  of  which  he 
has  left  us  tho  names  of  not  less  than  fifteen ;  but  these 
obscure  appellations  of  local  divisions  are  in  themselves  of 
little  interest,  and  for  the  most  part  not  mentioned  by  anj 
other  writer.  (e.  u.  b.) 

PONTUS  DE  TYARD'  (c.  1521-lCOr.),  one  of  the 
famous  Pleiado  who  helped  to  reform  French  literature  in 
tho  16th  century,  was  tho  highest  in  rank  and  the  most 
allluent  in  fortune  of  tho  seven.  He  was  indeed  in  some 
sort  an  anticipator  of  Ronsard  and  Du  BcUay,  for  his 
Erreurs  Amovrciises  preceded  their  work.  Ho  was  seigneur 
of  Bissy  in  Burgundy,  was  born  at  the  seignorial  house  in 

>  Siicli  nt  Icnst  wos  tho  general  opinion  of  Greek  writers.  Tho 
Semitic  or  Amminnn  origin  of  Iho  Cnppmlocian.s  linn,  whoever,  in 
modern  times  liccn  qucationcd  by  NOldcko  and  other  aulhoritica  ou 
Semitic  ethnology. 


460 


p  o  N  — P  0  O 


or  about  1521,  and  died  at  a  great  age  at  Bragny  on  the 
SaCne,  another  seat  of  his,  on  September  25,  1605.  He 
was  thus  the  last  survivor  as  well  as  one  of  the  eldest  of 
the  group.  His  early  poems,  the  Erreurs  Aniouretises, 
originally  published  in  1549,  were  augmented  with  other 
works  in  successive  editions  till  1573.  Pontus  de  Tyard 
published  IHscours  Pkitosopldques  in  1587,  and  appears  to 
have  been  a  man  of  extensive  knowledge  and  just  thought. 
He  was,  moreover,  a  courtier  and  official  of  some  standing 
for  many  years,  and,  entering  the  church,  was  made  count- 
bishop  of  Chiilon-sur-Saone.  In  this  high  position  he 
bore  a  character  for  political  and  religious  moderation. 
On  the  whole  his  poetry  is  inferior  to  that  of  his  com- 
fianions,  but  he  was  onS  of  the  first  to  write  sonnets  in 
French  (the  actual  priority  belongs  to  Mellin  de  St 
Gelais) ;  and  one  of  these,  the  beautiful  Sonnet  to  Sleep 
(it  has  been  noted  that  the  poetical  name  of  his  mistress 
In  the  En-eurs  is,  oddly  enough,  Pasithea,  the  name  of 
the  nymph  beloved  classically  by  the  god  of  sleep),  is  a 
Very  notable  and  famous  piece.  It  is  also  said  that 
Pontus  de  Tyard  introduced  the  sestine  into  France,  or 
rather  reintroduced  it,  for  it  is  originally  a  Provencal 
invention. 

PONTYPOOL,  a  town  and  urban  sanitary  district  of 
Monmouthshire,  England,  situated  on  an  acclivity  above 
the  river  Avon  Lwyd,  on  the  Monmouthshire  Canal,  and 
on  the  Great- Western  and  Monmouthshire  Railways,  8 
miles  north  of  Newport.  The  town-hall,  in  the  Doric  st3le, 
dales  from  185G,  the  market-house  from  1S46,  and  the 
Baptist  theological  college  from  1856.  At  one  period 
Poutypool  was  famed  for  its  japanned  goods,  invented  by 
Thomas  Allwood,  a  native  of  Northampton,  who  settled 
in  the  town  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  but  the  manu- 
facture has  long  been  transferred  altogether  to  other 
towns.  The  present  prosperity  of  Pontypool  is  due  to 
its  situation  on  the  edge  of  the  great  Pembrokeshire 
coal  and  iron  basin.  The  earliest  record  of  trade  in 
iron  is  in  1588,  but  it  was  developed  chiefly  in  the 
beginning  of  the  18th  century  by  the  Hanburys,  the  pro- 
prietors of  Pontypool  Park.  The  town  possesses  large 
forges  and  iron-mills  for  the  manufacture  of  iron-work  and 
tin-plate.  The  population  of  the  urban  sanitary  district 
(area  80.0  acres)  in  1871  was  4834,  and  in  1881  it  was  5244. 

PONTYPKIDD,  sometimes  also  called  NE^VBRIDGE,  a 
market  town  of  Glamorganshire,  Wales,  situated  on  the 
Ta?E  at  its  junction  with  the  Ehondda,  and  on  the 
Glamorganshire  Canal,  12  miles  north-north-west  from 
Cardiff  and  12  south  from  Merthyr-Tydfil.  It  receives  its 
name  from  a  remarkable  bridge  of  one  arch  spanning  the 
Taff,  erected  by  William  Edwards,  a  self-taught  mason. 
The  bridge  is  a  perfect  segment  of  a  circle,  the  chord 
being  140  feet,  and  the  height  at  low  water  36  feet.  A 
throo-arched  bridge  was  erected  close  to  it  in  1857. 
The  principal  buildings  are  the  court-house,  St  Catherine's 
church,  the  masonic  hall,  and  the  town-hall.  Near  the 
town  is  a  far-famed  rocking  stone  9i  tons  in  weight,  sur- 
rounded by  so-called  Druidical  remains.  In  the  beginning 
of  the  century  Pontypridd  was  an  insignificant  village,  and 
it  owes  its  progress  chieily  to  the  coal  and  iron  in  the 
neighbourhood.  It  possesses  anchor,  chain,  and  cable 
works,  chemical  works,  acd  iron  and  brass  foundries.  The 
population  in  1881  was  12,317. 

PONZA,  the  principal  island  of  a  small  volcanic  group, 
the  Pontian,  Pontine,  or  Pontinian  Islands  {Insulx  Fontise, 
lioh  Fonze),  which  lie  20  miles  off  the  Circeian  pro- 
montory (Monte  CirceUo),  the  northern  end  of  the  Gulf  of 
Oaeta,  on  the  west  coast  of  Italy.  The  two  smaller  islands 
are  Palmarola  (ancient  Palniaria)  and  Zannone  (Simonia), 
neither  inhabited.  Ponza  is  5  miles  long  and  very 
irregular  in  outline  ;  its  soil  is  fertile;  and  in  1881  it  had 


3828   inhabitants.     The  old  fortress  is  used  as  a  penal 

establishment. 

A  Roman  colony  with  Latin  rights  was  settled  on  Pontia  in 
313  B.C.  Under  the  empiio  tlie  island  was  a  place  of  banishment 
for  political  offenders.  Nero,  tlie  eldest  son  of  Germanicus,  hero 
perished  by  command  of  Tiberius  ;  here  the  sisters  of  Oiligula 
were  confined ;  and  hero,  or  in  I'almaria,  Pope  Sylverius  died.  A 
Benedictine  monastery  was  built  on  Ponza,  and  in  1572  Cardinal 
Farnese,  as  commendatory  of  tlio  monastery,  claimed  to  exercise 
lordship  over  tlie  island.  From  the  diike  of  Parma,  who  obtained 
possession  in  15S8,  the  feudal  authority  passed  with  Elizabeth  to 
Philip  V.  of  Spain.  Ferdinand  IV.  attracted  the  inhabitants  of 
Torre  del  Greco  to  the  island  by  gifts  of  land  and  money.  During 
the  first  Fi'ench  empire  it  was  occupied  and  fortified  by  the  Englisli 
and  Sicilian  forces. 

See  Tricoli,  Monoqrafia  per  Je  isolg  del  gruppo  Ponziano,  Naples,  1855;  MattcJ, 
i".4ivAi/'e/a;/t> /'oniiano,  Naples.  1857;  end  uoclter,  Vorlat^fige  ^ittheitvng  ubtr 
den  geot.  Bau  dtr  Pontiaischen  Insetn,  Vienna,  1S75. 

POOLE,  a  market  town,  municipal  borough,  county  iu 
itself,  and  seaport  of  Dorsetshire,  on  the  south  coast  of 
England,  is  picturesquely  situated  on  a  peninsula  between 
Holes  Bay  and  Poole  Harbour,  30  miles  east  from 
Dorchester  and  120  south-west  of  London.  The  churches 
are  modern,  and  possess  no  features  of  special  interest. 
Among  the  principal  public  buildings  are  the  town-house, 
1721;  the  guild-hall,  formerly  the  market-house,  1761; 
the  old  town-hall,  built  in  1572;  the  custom-house;  and 
the  mechanics'  institute.  On  Brownsea  Island  in  the 
middle  of  Poole  Harbour  is  a  small  castle  erected  as  a 
fortress  by  Elizabeth  and  strengthened  by  Charles  I.  At 
low  water  Poole  Harbour  is  entirely  emptied  except  a 
narrow  channel,  but  at  full  tide  the  water  covers  an  area 
about  7  miles  long  by  about  4J  broad.  The  quays  lined 
with  warehouses  are  about  one  mile  in  length,  and  can  be 
approached  by  vessels  of  very  large  tonnage.  There  is  a 
large  general  trade  with  the  British  colonies  and  tho 
United  States,  and  an  important  coasting  trade,  especially 
in  corn  to  Loudon,  and  Purbeck  clay  to  the  Staffordshire 
potteries.  In  1883  the  number  of  vessels  that  entered  the 
harbour  was  933  of  81,003  tons,  tho  number  that  cleared 
874  of  77,948  tons.  Soma  shipbuilding  is  carried  on, 
and  there  are  manufactures  of  cordage,  netting,  and  sail- 
cloth. The  town  also  possesses  large  potteries,  decorative 
tile  works,  iron-foundries,  engineering  works,  agricultural  im- 
plement works,  and  flour-mills.  The  area  of  the  borough 
is  5111  acres,  with  a  population  in  1871  of  10,129,  and  in 
1881  of  12,310  (5820  males  and  6490  females). 

•Poole  derives  its  name  from  being  nearly  surrounded  by  a  sheet 
of  water.  There  was  a  Koman  road  between  it  and  Wimbourne. 
It  is  not  mentioned  in  Domesday,  being  included  in  Canford. 
but  it  enjoyed  certain  immunities  before  1248,  when  it  received 
a  charter  from  William  Longsword.  In  the  reign  of  Edward  III. 
it  supplied  four  ships  and  94  men  for  the  siege  of  Calais.  Much 
of  its  succeeding  prosperity  was  due  to  the  presence  of  Spanisli 
merchants,  and  after  the  outbreak  of  war  with  Spain  in  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth  its  trade  for  a  ttnie  declined.  Its  charter  was  extended 
by  Elizabeth,  who  reincorporated  it,  and  erected  it  into  a  county 
in  itself.  It  has  a  sheriff  elected  annualh-,  and  a  separate  court  of 
quarter  sessions.  It  is  divided  into  two  wards,  and  is  governed 
by  a  mayor,  six  aldermen,  and  eighteen  councillors.  It  returned 
two  members  to  parliament  as  early  as  the  reign  of  Edward  III., 
but  one  only  from  1868  to  1885. 

See  Hutchins,  nislory  of  Poole,  17S8;  Sydenham,  Sistory  of  Poole,  1830; 
Hutchins,  Biitory  of  Dorset,  3d  ed. 

POOLE,  Matthew  (1624-1679),  author  of  a  learned 

though  now  almost  wholly  antiquated  Synopsis  Criticorum 
Biblicorum,  was  born  at  York  in  1624,  was  educated  at 
Emmanuel  College,  Cambridge,  and  from  1648  till  tho 
passing  of  the  Act  of  Uniformity  held  the  rectory  of  St 
Mary  le  Querne,  London.  Subsequent  troubles  led  to  his 
withdrawal  to  Holland.  He  died  at  Amsterdam  in  1679. 
Besides  the  work  with  which  his  name  is  principally  associated 
{Synopsis  Crilicorum  £ib!icorum,  5  vols,  fol.,  1669-76),  he  wrote 
Annotations  on  the  Holy  Bible,  as  far  as  to  Isa.  Iviii. ;  the  work  was 
subsequently  completed  by  several  of  his  Nonconformist  brethren, 
and  published  in  2  vols.  fol.  in  1683.  He  was  also  the  author  of 
numerous  centroversial  tracts. 


F  0  O  — P  O  O 


461 


POOLE,  Paul  Falconer  (1806-1879),  an  eminent 
English  pa'iater,  was  born  at  Bristol  in  180G.  He  was 
selUauglit  in  the  strictest  sense,  and  tcrthis  deficiency  in 
art  training  must  be  ascribed  the  imperfect  drawing  of  the 
human  figure  which  is  to  be  observed  in  most  of  his  work. 
Bat,  in  spite  of  this  di-awback,  his  fine  feeling  for  colour, 
his  poetic  sympathy,  and  his  dramatic  power  have  gained 
for  him  a  high,  position  among  British  artists.  Gifted 
with  an  imagination  of  a  high  order,  he  boldly  attempted 
lofty  historical  themes,  and,  if  the  result  is  not  always 
equal  to .  the  vigour  of  his  conception,  we  can  easily  see 
that  the  shortcoming  was  due  to  his  imperfect  education 
in  art.  His  pictures  show  him  to  belong  to  that  com- 
paratively small  class  of  English  painters  who  are  keenly 
sensitive  to  the  influence  of  beauty  and  of  passion,  rising 
on  occasion  to  ambitious  flights  of  fancy,  and  dominated 
by  strong  dramatic  impulse.  A  keen  observer  of  nature, 
but  generally  viewing  it  in  a  broad  comprehensive  aspect, 
he  was  truly  a  poet-painter,  using  the  effects  of  a  summer 
sky  or  of  angry  clouds  to  harmo',iize  with  the  subject  of' 
his  picture  and  to  snforce  its  siory.  In  his  early  days 
Poole  worked  along  with  T.  Danby,  and  it  is  easy  to 
trace  the  bond  of  synfpathy  between  the  two  painters. 

Poole's  life  was  the  simple  uneventful  record  of  the 
career  of  the  artist.  He  exhibited  his  first  work  in  the 
Koyal  Academy  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  the  subject 
being  the  Well^a  scene  in  Naples.  There  was  an 
interval  of  seven  years  before  he  again  exhibited  his 
Farewell,  Farewell,  in  1837,  which  was  followed  by  the 
Emigrant's  Departure,  Hermann  and  Dorothea,  and  By 
the  Waters  of  Babylon.  This  last  picture  attracted  much 
attention  from  the  line  poetic  imagination  which  it  dis- 
played. In  1843  his  position  was  made  secure  by  his 
Solomon  Eagle,  and  by  his  success  in  the  Cartoon  Exhibi- 
tion, in  which  he  received  from  the  Fine  Art  Commis- 
sioners a  prize  of  £300  sterling.  After  his  exhibitioa 
of  the  Surrender  of  Syon  House  he  was .  elected  an  Asso- 
ciate of  the  Royal  Academy  in  1816,  and  was  made  an 
Academician  in  1861.  In  1855  he  received  a  medal  of 
the  third  class  at  the  Paris  Universal  Exhibition.  His 
enthusiasm  for  his  art  was  rewarded  by  success  in  life, 
though  like  many  artists  he  passed  through  much  hard- 
ship in  his  early  days.  He  died  in.  1879,  in  his  house 
at  Hampstead;  in  hia  seventy-third  year.  In  person  he 
was  tall  and  well  built,  with  a  lofty  forehead,  grey  eyes, 
and  short  beard.  The  portrait  sketch  by  Frank  HoU, 
R.A.,  gives  a  very  good  idea  of  him  in  his  last  days, — 
a  shy  man  but  genial  to  his  friends,  fond  of  conversation 
and  well  read,  especially  in  his  favourites  Shakespeare, 
Shelley,  Spencer,  and  Chaucer,  who  were  the  sources  of 
inspiration  of  many  of  his  works. 

Poole's  subjects  easily  divide  themselves  into  two  orders — one, 
without  doubt  tho  onrlier,  idyllic,  the  other  dramatic.  Of  tho 
former  his  May  Day  is  a  typical  example.  A  rustic  beauty  crossing 
a  brook,  or  resting  on  a  liill  side  under  bushes  flecked  with  the 
light  and  shade  of  a  bright  sun  and  with  cirrus  clouds  floating  in  a 
blue  sky,  is  the  frequent  motive  of  these  worlcs,  which  are  full  of 
simple  enjoyment  of  a  beautiful  country  life.  Iiu(  in  his  later  style 
he  rises  to  loftier  subjects  and  treats  them  powerfully.  Of  both 
styles  tlioro  wore  excellent  examples  <■-  be  seen  in  the  small  collec- 
tion of  bis  works  shown  at  liurlington  House  in  tho  Winter  Exhibi- 
tion of  1883-84.  These  eolloctcdpicturcs  recalled  the  attention  of 
tho  public  to  a  painter  who  had  sull'eicd  neglect  for  some  years, 
aliko  from  his  own  deficiencies  as  a  draughtsman  and  also  fi-oni  a 
wantof  sympathy  with  tho  pootical  chariictor  of  bis  paintings,  wliich 
never  could  have  been  popular  with  the  ordinary  iiublic.  His 
reputation  will  stand  or  fall  by  the  criticism  of  this  gathering  of  bis 
liicturcs,  small  though  il  was.  There  was  to  bo  seen  one  of  bis 
early  dramatic  pictures,  painted  in  1843,  Solomon  Eagle  exhorting 
the  People  to  Repentance  during  the  Plague  of  lOGu,  Icrrible  in  its 
ghastly  force.  Though  exaggerated  in  tlie  expression  of  horror  and 
afony,  weak  in  drawing,  aiul  defective  in  colour,  it  is  clearly  the 
work  of  a  powerful  imagination.  To  tins  class  belong  also  the 
Mossongor  announcing  to  Job  the  Irruption  of  tho  S.ibeans  and  the 


Slaughter  of  the  Servants  (exhibited  in  1850),  and  Kobert,  Duke  of 
Normandy  and  Arietta  (1848).  Finer  examples  of  his  more  mature 
power  in  this  direction  are  to  be  found  in  his  Prodigal  Son,  painted 
in  1869  ;  the  Escape  of  Glaucus  and  lone  with  the  blind  girl  Nydia 
from  Pompeii  (ISCO);  and  Cunstaunce  sent  adrift  by  the  Constable 
of  Alia,  King  of  Northumberland,  painted  in  1888.  Here  Poolo 
rises  to  a  lofty  height,  and  succeeds  fully  in  realizing  the  impres- 
sion ho  aims  at.  The  expression  of  anguish  and  of  resignation  at 
Cunstaunce  clasps  her  cliild  to  her  bosom  and  turns  her  moon-lit 
face  to  heaven  is  rendered  with  great  power,  while  the  effect  is 
heightened  by  the  stormy  sky,  the  dark  rocks,  and  the  angry  sea. 

More  peaceful  than  these  are  tlie  Song  of  Troubadours  (painted 
1854)  and  the  Goths  in  Italy  (1851),  the  latter  an  important  his 
torical  work  of  great  power  and  beauty.  It  represents  the  easy 
luxurious  insolence  of  the  barbarian  conquerors,  lying  stretched  on 
the  grass  in  the  gard,en3  of  Luuullus  and  Cicero,  while  the  captive 
daughters  of  proud  senators  wait  on  tliem  and  offer  wine  in  golden 
goblets.  In  the  background  is  a  circular  temple  overhanging  the 
sea,  while  wverhead  is  a  beautiful  sky — altogether  a  bold  feat  to 
attempt,  yet  Poole  has  succeeded  in  giving  a  great  representation 
of  a  striking  page  in  history. 

Of  a  less  lofty  strain,  but  still  more  beautiful  in  its  workmanship, 
is  the  Seventh  Day  of  the  Decameron,  painted  in  1S57.  In  thia 
picture  Poole  rises  to  his  full  height  as  a  colorist.  "  In  the  fore- 
ground is  Philomena,  seated  on  the  shore  of  a  la'Ke  surrounded  by 
high  mountains,  playing  on  a  harp ;  eleven  figures  are  grouped 
round  her  in  various  positions."  as  described  in  the  catalogue.  Tho 
chief  beauty  of  this  work  lies  in  its  fine  colour  and  quiet  repose.  The 
amphitheatre  of  rocky  mountains  reflected  in  the  lake  gives  us  a 
splendid  example  of  Poole's  power  in  landscape,  which  is  large  and 
broad  in  style.  His  treatment  corresponded  with  his  choice  of  sub- 
ject. In  his  pastorals  he  is  soft  and  tender,  as  in  the  Mountain 
Path  (1853),  the  Water-Cress  Gatherers  (1870),  the  Sbepston 
Maiden  (1872).  But  when  he  turns  to  the  giander  and  more 
sublime  views  of  nature  his  work  is  bold  and  vigorous.  Fine 
examples  of  this  style  may  be  seen  in  the  Vision  of  Ezekiel  of  tho 
National  Gallery,  Solitude  (1876),  the  ifntrance  to  tho  Cave, of 
Mammon  (1875),  the  Dragon's  Cavern  (1877),  and  perhaps  best  o£ 
all  in  the  Lion  in  the  Path  (1873),  a  great  representation  of  moun- 
tain and  cloud  form.  This  wild  rocky  landscape  had  a  gi'eat 
fascination  for  him ;  every  aspect  of  nature  which  showed  the  action 
of  mighty  force  attracted  him;  hence  his  love  of  mountain  sides 
scarred  by  ravines,  and  of  trees  torn  and  twisted  by  hurricanes. 
Caverns  are  a  frequent  theme  ;  indeed  he  used  to  say  that  he  had 
been  haunted  all  his  life  by  them,  and  that  he  would  travel  far  to 
see  a  new  one. 

POONA,  a  district  in  the  Deccan,  Bombay,  situated 
between  17°  54'  and  19°  23'  N.  lat.,  and  73°  24'  and 
75°  13'  E.  long.  It  has  an  area  of  5347  square  miles, 
and  is  bounded  on  the  N.  by  the  districts  of  Nasik  and 
Ahmodnagar,  on  the  E.  by  those  of  Ahmednugar  and 
Sholapur,  on  the  S.  by  the  Nlra  river,  separating  it  from 
Satara  and  Phaltan,  and  on  the  W.  by  the  Bhor  state 
and  Sahyadri  Hills.  Towards  the  west  the  country  is 
extremely  undulating,  and  numerous  spurs  from  the 
hills  enter  the  district.  To  the  cast  it  opens  out  into 
plains ;  but  a  considerable  arcQi.  is  now  being  put  under 
fc-est.  •Poona  is  watered  by  many  streams  which,  rising 
in  the  Sahyadri  range,  flow  eastwards  until  they  join  the 
Bhima,  a  river  which  intersects  tho  district  from  north  to 
south.  The  Groat  Indian  Peninsula  Railway  runs  through 
it,  and  affords  an  outlet  for  its  produce  through  the  Bhor 
Ghat  to  Bombay  ;  another  railway  is  about  to  bo  com- 
menced which  will  put  tho  district  into  communication 
with  tho  southern  JIahratta  country.  Tho  Khadakvasla 
Canal,  about  10  miles  south-wost  of  Poona,  which  it 
.supplies  with*  water,  is  one  of  its  most  important  works. 
Although  tho  district  is  not  rich  in  minerals,  trap  rock 
suitable  for  road-making  and  stone  for  building  pur- 
poses are  "found.  Only  in  tho  west  ore  wild  animals 
mot  with,  chiefly  tigers,  leopard.s,  bears,  nnd  sumbhar 
deer.  The  climate  is  dry  and  invigorating;  tho  average 
annual  rainfall  is  about  30  inches. 

The  population  of  tbo  district  in  1881  was  000.621  (455,101 
males  and  445,520  females),  of  whom  834,843  were  Hindus,  42,038 
Jlobamnndans,  1674  Parsis,  10,880  Jains,  9500  Christians,  and 
1788  of  other  religions.  The  only  towns  with  a  population  exceed- 
ing 10,000  aro  I'oOKA  {q.v.),  Poona  cantonment  (30,129),  and 
Juunar  (10,373). 

Agriculluro  nut>i)ort3  about  half  the  population.     Of  a  Igtai  srrs 


462 


P  0  O— P  0  o 


of  Government  cuUurable  land  of  1,924,630  acres,  1,775,583  wcro 
cultivated  during  1882-83.  Of  these  181,395  acres  were  fallow 
land  and  occupied  waste,  leaving  1,594,188  acres  under  actual 
cultivation,  of  which  28,035  were  twice  cropped.  The  chief 
products  are  cereals  (chiefly  jowari  and  bajri)  and  pulse,  and  the 
principal  manufactures  of  the  district  are  silk  robes,  coarse  cotton 
cloth,  and  blankets ;  its  brass  and  silver  work  is  much  admired. 
The  gross  revenue  in  1882-83  was  £180,736,  of  which  the  land  tax 
yielded  £111,740,  stamps  £18,790,  and  excise  £31,160. 

mslory.—The  district  passed  from  the  last  Hindu  dynasty  which 
roigned  at  Deogiri  to  the  Mohamniedans  between  1294  and  1312, 
and  under  the  Bahmani  kings  the  Ghat  country  waa  thoroughly 
subdued.  On  the  disruption  of  the  Bahmani  kingdom  after  the 
revolt  of  the  governors  of  the  provinces,  the  district  fell  to  the 
share  of  the  Ahraednagar  kings  and  from  them  it  passed  to  the 
Moguls,  when  the  Nizamshabi  dynasty  finally  came  to  an  end  in 
1637.  The  country  north  of  the  Bhima,  including  Junnar,  was 
annexed  to  the  Mogul  territory,  and  that  south  sf  it  was  made  over 
to  Bijapur.  The  power  of  the  latter  was,  however,  declining,  and 
gave  an  opportunity  to  the  Mahratta  chiefs  to  unite  and  assert 
themselves,  and  ended  in  their  establishing  a  Mahratta  kingdom  at 
Satara.  Intrigues  at  the  palace  led  to  the  supremacy  of  the  peshwas 
and  ;he  removal  of  the  capital  to  Poona,  where  many  stirring 
scenes  in  Mahratta  history  have  been  enacted.    Holkar  defeated  the 

Eeshwa  under  its  walls,  and  his  fliglit  to  Bassein  led  to  the  treaty 
y  which  he  put  himself  under  British  protection  ;  he  was  reinstated 
in  1802,  but,  unable  to  maintain  friendly  relations,  he  attacked 
the  British  at  Kirkee  in  1817,  and  his  kingdom  passed  from  him. 

POONA,  the  chief  lown  of  the  above  district,  is  situated 
in  18°  31'  N.  lat.  and  73°  55'  E.  long.,  in  a  treeless  plain 
about  2000  feet  above  the  sea  and  overlooked  by  the 
Ghats,  which  rise  1000  feet  above  the  plain.  'Its  area  is 
about  4  square  miles,  with  a  population  in  1881  of  99,622 
— males  50,814,  females  48,808.  The  town  stands  on 
the  right  bank  of  the  Muta  river,  and  is  about  80  miles 
south-east  of  Bombay.  Until  the  year  1817,  when  it 
was  taken  by  the  British,  the  city  was  the  residence  of 
the  peshwas  of  the  Mahrattas. 

POOR  LAWS.  Without  embarking  on  an  inquiry  as  to 
the  causes  of  pauperism  or  the  primary  right  of  any  persons 
to  have  their  wants,  however  pressing,  met  by  the  state,  it 
is  sufficient  to  say  that  in  Great  Britain  "  there  is  no  man 
so  indigent  or  wretched  but  he  may  demand  a  supply 
sufficient  for  all  the  necessaries  of  life  from  the  more 
opulent  part  of  the  community,  by  means  of  the  several 
statutes  enacted  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  "  (Blackstone). 
Moreover,  apart  from  statute,  by  the  common  law  of 
England  the  poor  were  sustainable  "  by  parsons,  rectors  of 
the  church,  and  the  parishioners,  so  that  none  of  them  die 
for  default  of  sustenance  "  (Mirror). 

The  great  importance  of  the  subject  of  relief  of  the  poor 
is  evinced,  apart  from  other  considerations,  by  the  number 
of  persons  immediately  aifected,  either  as  recipients  of  Relief 
or  as  ratepayers,  and  by  the  sums  expended  in  that  relief. 
The  number  of  paupers  of  all  classes  now  in  receipt  of 
relief  in  England  and  Wales  approaches  800,000,  equi- 
valent to  a  thirty-fourth  part  of  the  entire  population, 
and  relieved  at  a  yearly  cost  of  considerably  mora  than 
£8,000,000,  representing  a  charge  of  between  six  and 
seven  shillings  per  head  of  the  estimated  population. 

Of  existing  legislation  a  statute  of  th?  beginnipg  of  the 
17th  century  (43  Eliz.  c.  2,  1601)  is  the  earliest,  under 
which,  by  parochial  taxation,  parish  officers  are  directed  to 
provide  a  stock  of  materials  for  "  setting  the  poor  on 
work "  (thpt  is  to  say,  persons  "  married  or  unmarried 
having  no  means  to  maintain  them  [and  that]  use  no 
ordinary  and  daily  trade  of  life  to  get  their  living  by  "), 
and  further  for  setting  to  work  their  children  ;  "  and  also 
competent  sums  of  money  for  and  towards  the  necessary 
relief  of  the  lame,  impotent,  old,  blind,  and  such  others 
among  them  being  peer  and  not  able  to  work."  The 
same  statute  enacts  "that  the  father  and  grandfather 
and  the  mother  and  grandmother  and  the  children  of 
e-very  poor  old,  blind,  lame,  and  impotent  person,  or 
other  poor  person  not  able  to  work,  being  of  a  sufficient 


ability,   shall  at  their  own  charges  relieve  and  maintain 
every  such  poor  person." 

Although  the  statute  of  Elizabeth  is  spoken  of  as  the 
principal  foundation  of  existing  legislation  relating  to  the 
poor,  it  is  an  error  to  say  that  the  relief  of  the  poor  ori- 
ginated at  that  period.  The  common  law  of  England  has 
been  already  cited,  and  traces  of  poor  laws,  however  far 
removed  from  a  system,  are  found  in  all  civilized  states. 
An  approximation  to  the  principle  may  be  discerned  in  the 
legislation  of  England  at  a  very  early  period;  and  before 
the  Norman  Conquest  laws  of  Athelstane,  establishing  a 
responsibility  over  households  and  landowners,  although  in- 
tended for  good  order  and  calculated  to  prevent  the  gi-owth 
of  vagabondage  and  violence,  had  also  the  effect  of  estab- 
lishing reciprocal  relations  between  the  landless  ma,n  and 
the  landowner,  between  property  and  poverty,  between  the 
householder  and  the  houseless, — casting  upon  one  the  duty 
of  supervising  the  conduct  and  providing  for  the  wpiits  of 
the  other,  in  some  respects  similar  to  the  poor  law  of  the 
present  day.  "  The  results  of  this  legislation  were  like- 
wise, it  may  be  presumed,  not  very  dissimilar,  for  the 
improvident  and  the  indolent  would  endeavour,  with  the 
smallest  amount  of  labour,  to  obtain  the  largest  amount 
of  assistance  from  the  householder  who  was  liable  for  their 
support  and  responsible  for  their  conduct,  whilst  the 
householder  would  as  certainly  endeavour  to  obtain  the 
largest  amount  of  labour  in  return  for  the  cost  and  re- 
sponsibility to  which  he  was  subject."  Again,  so  long  as 
serfdom  and  villenage  prevailed,  whether  to  be  traced  to 
the  Norman  Conquest  or  not,  there  could  be  no  call  for 
any  special  provision  for  the  destitute.  "  The  persons 
who  might,  if  free  agents  and  in  a  destitute  state,  have 
been  properly  relieved  out  of  a  common  stock,  would  as 
serfs  or  villeins  have  a  claim  on  their  masters,  to  whom 
they  belonged,  and  who  were  bound  to  provide  for  them  " 
(Nicholls).  As  those  old  ties  became  more  relaxed  the 
change  to  freedom  was  accompanied  by  some  evils,  and 
led  to  a  great  increase  of  vagrancy ;  and  from  a  period 
commencing  before  the  close  of  the  14th  century  there  was 
a  stream  of  legislation  on  the  subject.  An  Act  of  12 
Richard  XL,  after  providing  for  labour  to  persons  able  to 
work  (see  Labour  and  Laboue  Laws,  vol.  xiv.  p.  167), 
enacts  "  that  beggars  impotent  to  serve  shall  abide  in  the 
cities  and  towns  where  they  may  be  dwelling  at  the  time 
of  the  proclamation  of  this  statute,  and,  if  the  people  of  the 
cities  and  towns  will  not,  or  may  not,  suffice  to  find  them, 
that  these,  the  said  beggars,  shall  draw  them  to  other  towns 
within  the  hundred,  rape,  or  wapentake,  or  to  the  towns 
where  they  were  born,  within  forty  days  after  the  proclama- 
tion made,  and  there  shall  continually  abide  during  their 
lives."  This  is  the  first  enactment  in  which  the  impotent 
poor  are  directly  named  as  a  separate  class,  and  on  that 
account  it  has  been  mistakenly  regarded  as  the  origin  of  the 
English  poor  laws;  but  it  makes  no  provision  for  their  relief, 
and  the  chief  characteristic  of  the  statute  is  the  fact  of  its 
having  openly  recognized  the  distinction  between  "  beggars 
able  to  labour"  and  "  beggars  impotent  to  serve."  Passing 
over  intermediate  legislation,  by  an  Act  passed  in  1530. 
"  directing  how  aged,  poor,  and  impotent  persons  compelled 
to  live  by  alms,  shall  be  ordered,  and  how  vagabon(&  and 
beggars  shall  be  punished,"  justices  of  the  peace  were  re- 
quired to  give  licences  under  their  seals  to  such  poor,  aged, 
and  impotent  persons  to  beg  within  a  certain  precinct  as 
they  should  think  to  have  most  need ;  "and  if  any  do  beg 
out  of  his  precinct  he  shall  be  set  in  the  stocks  two  days 
and  nights  ;  and  if  any  beg  without  such  licence  he  shall  be 
whipped,  or  else  be  set  in  the  stocks  three  days  and  three 
nights,  with  bread  and  water  only.  And  persons  being 
whole  and  mighty  in'  body,  and  able  to  labour,  who  shall 
beg,  or  be  vagrants  and  not  able  to  account  how  they  get 


POOR     LAWS 


4G3 


Iheir  living,  shall  be  whipped,  and  sworn  to  return  to  the 
place  where  they  were  born,  or  last  dwelt  by  the  space  of 
three  years,  and  there  put  themselves  to  labour  "  (22  Hen. 
VIII.  c.  12). 

Six  years  later  an  important  and  very  interesting  Act 
was  passed  reciting  that,  although  it  had  been  ordained 
that  aged,  poor,  and  impotent  people  should  repair  to  the 
liundred  where  they  were  born  or  had  dwelt  for  three 
years  before,  no  provision  had  been  made  how  they  should 
be  ordered  at  their  coming  thither,  nor  how  the  hundred 
should  bo  charged  for  their  relief.  It  was  therefore 
enacted  that  the  mayors,  sheriffs,  constables,  householders, 
and  all  other  head  officers  of  every  city,  shire,  town,  and 
parish,  at  the  repair  and  coming  thither  of  such  poor 
creature  should  most  charitably  receive  them,  and  all  the 
governors  and  ministers  of  every  such  place  should  succour, 
find,  and  keep  them  by  way  of  voluntary  and  charitable 
alms,  as  should  bo  thought  meet  in  their  discretion,  in 
such  wise  as  none  of  the  poor  persons  of  very  necessity 
should  be  compelled  to  go  openly  in  begging,  on  pain  of 
every  parish  making  default  forfeiting  20s.  a  month.  The 
head  officers  and  churchwardens,  or  two  others  of  every 
parish  in  the  realm,  were  required  to  gather  and  procure 
such  voluntary  and  charitable  alms  of  the  good  Christian 
people,  by  means  of  boxes  every  Sunday,  holiday,  and 
other  festival,  in  such  good  and  discreet  ways  as  the  poor, 
impotent,  lame,  feeble,  sick,  and  diseased  people,  being 
not  able  to  work,  may  be  provided,  holpen,  and  relieved, 
so  that  in  no  wise  none  of  them  be  suffered  to  go  openly 
in  begging,  and  such  as  be  lusty  may  be  kept  in  continual 
labour.  Every  preacher,  parson,  vicar,  and  curate,  as  well 
in  their  sermons,  collections,  bidding  of  the  beads,  as  in 
time  of  confessions,  and  at  the  making"  of  the  wills  or 
testaments  of  any  persons,  at  all  times  of  the  year  shall 
exhort,  move,  stir,  and  provoke  people  to  be  liberal. 
Certain  of  the  poor  people  were  themselves  appointed  to 
collect  and  gather  broken  meats  and  fragments  and  the 
refuse  drink  of  every  householder  in  the  parish,  to  be 
distributed  equally  among  the  poor  at  discretion.  The 
overplus  of  collections  in  rich  and  wealthy  parishes  was 
distributable  towards  the  sustentation  of  other  poor 
parishes.  The  Act  provided  that,  where  the  voluntary  and 
unconstrained  alms  and  charity,  together  with  any  moneys 
added  or  given  from  any  monasteries  or  persons  or  bodies, 
proved  insufTicient,  the  officers  and  inhabitants  should  not 
incur  the  penalty  nor  be  constrained  to  any  contribution 
other  than  at  their  free  will,  provided  that  what  was  col- 
lected was  justly  distributed.  Provision  was  made  for  duly 
accounting  and  for  the  punishment  of  embezzlement.  Con- 
stables, churchwardens,  and  collectors  of  alms  had,  how- 
ever, allowance  for  their  loss  of  time  and  their  travelling 
cxpeqses  (27  Hen.  "VIII.  c.  25). 

A  number  of  statutes  were  passed  after  the  dissolution 
of  the  monasteries  for  further  providing  for  the  poor  and 
impotent,  who  had  increased  in  great  numbers.  Many  of 
these  statutes  were  specially  directed  against  vagrancy, 
and  have  been  referred  to  in  the  article  already  mentioned, 
as  closely  connected  with  compulsory  labour. 

At  the  commencement  of  tho  reign  of  Edward  VI. 
(1517)  a  statute  also  affecting  labourers  and  vagrants  and 
dealing  very  harshly  with  them  (see  vol.  xiv.  p.  168),  re- 
citing that  there  are  many  maimed  and  otherwise  latned, 
sore,  aged,  and  impotent  persons  which,  resorting  together 
and  making  a  number,  do  fill  the  streets  or  highways  of 
divers  cities,  towns,  markets,  and  fairs,  who,  if  they  were 
separated,  might  easily  bo  nourished  in  tho  towns  and 
places  wherein  they  were  born,  or  have  been  most  abiding' 
for  tho  space  of  three  years,  enacted  that  the  mayor,  con- 
stable, or  other  head  officer  of  any  city,  town,  or  hundred 
shall  see  all  such  idle,  impotent,  and  aged  persons,  who  | 


otherwise  cannot  be  taken  for  vagabonds,  which  were  Dorn 
within  the  said  city,  town,  or  hundred,  or  have  been  most 
conversant  there  by  the  space  of  three  years  and  now  de- 
cayed, bestowed  and  provided  for  of  tenantries,  cottages,  or 
other  convenient  houses  to  be  lodged  in,  at  the  costs  of  the 
place,  there  to  be  relieved  and  cured  by  the  devotion  of 
good  people,  and  suffer  no  others  to  remain  and  beg  there, 
but  shall  convey  thetti  on  horseback,  cart,  chariot,  or  other- 
wise to  the  next  constable,  and  so  from  constable  to  con- 
stable, till  they  be  brought  to  the  place  where  they  were 
born,  or  most  conversant  as  aforesaid ;  provided  that,  if 
they  were  not  so  lame  or  impotent"  but  that  they  might  do 
some  manner  of  work,  work  was  to  be  provided  either  in 
common,  or  place  them  with  such  persons  as  would  find  thcin 
work  for  meat  and  drink.  For  the  furtherance  of  the  relief 
of  such  as  were  in  "  unfeigned  misery,"  the  curate  of  every 
parish  was  required  on  every  Sunday  and  holiday,  after 
reading  the  gospel  of  the  day,  to  make  (according  to  such 
talent  as  God  hath  given  him)  a  godly  and  brief  exhortation 
to  his  parishioners,  moving  and  exciting  them  to  remember 
the  poor  people,  and  the  duty  of  Christian  charity  in  reliev- 
ing of  them  which  be  their  brethren  in  Christ,  born  in  the 
same  parish,  and  needing  their  help.  There  was  a  proviso 
that  all  leprous  and  poor  bedridden  creatures  were  at 
liberty  to  remain  in  houses  appointed  for  such  persons,  and 
for  their  better  relief  such  persons  were  allowed  to  appoint 
one  or  two  persons  for  any  one  such  house  to  gather  the 
alms  of  all  inhabitants  within  the  compass  of  four  miles 
(1  Edw.  VL  c.  3).  This  statute,  however,  was  of  brief 
duration. 

Subsequently,  in  the  same  reign,  further  legislation  took 
place,  having  for  its  main  object  the  restraint  of  vagrancy, 
providing  that  every  vagabond  and  beggar  being  born  in 
any  other  nation  or  country  should  be  conveyed  from  place 
to  place,  or  to  the  place  or  borders  next  adjoining  to  his 
native  country  or  to  the  nearest  port  if  there  was  a  sea 
between,  there  to  be  kept  of  the  inhabitants  until  they 
could  be  convoyed  over,  and  then  at  tho  cost  of  tho  in- 
habitants of  tho  port,  if  the  vagrants  had  not  themselves 
wherewith  to  defray  the  cost.      The  same  statute  mado 
provision  for  children,  reciting  that  many  men  and  women 
going  begging,  impotent  and  lame,  and  some  able  enough 
to  labour,  carried  children  about  with  them,  which,  being 
once  brought  up  in  idleness,  would  hardly  be  brought  after- 
wards to  any  good  kind  of  labour  or  service,  and  author- 
izing any  person  to  take  such  child  between  the  ages  of 
five  and  fourteen  to  be  brought  up  in  any  honest  labour 
and  occupation  till  such  child,  if  a  woman,  attained  tho 
ago  of  fifteen  or  was  married,  and  if  a  man  child  until 
eighteen,  if  tho  master  so  long  lived  (3  >fe  4  Edw.  VI.  c.  16). 
Two  years  later  the  mayor  or  head  officer  of  every  city, 
borough,  and  town  corporate,  and  in  every  other  jmrish  of 
tho  country  tho  parson  and  churchwardens,  having  in  a 
book  as  well  tho  names  of  inhabitants  and  householders  as 
of  needy  persons,  were  required  yearly  "  ono  holiday  in 
Wliitsunweek   openly    in    the   church  and    quickly   after 
divine  service  to   call  the  householders   and  inhabitants 
together  and  select  two  or  more  able  persons  to  gather 
charitable  alms  for  tho  relief  of  tho  poor,  and  directing 
such  gatherers  tho   week  after  their   election,  when  tho 
people  are  at  tho  church,  and  have  heard  God's  holy  word, 
to  gently  ask  and  demand  of  every  man  and  woman  wljat 
they  of  their  charity  would    bo   content  to  give  weekly 
towards  tho  relief  of  tho  jioor,  and  write  the  result  in  the 
book,  to  gather  and  distribute  tho  alms  weekly  to  the  poor 
and  impotent  persons  without  fraud  or  covin,  favour  or 
affection,  in  such  manner  as  tho  most  impotent  had  tho 
most  help,  and  such  as  could  get  jiart  of  their  living  to 
have  the  less,  and  by  the  discretion  of  tho  collectors  to 
be  put  in  such  labour  as  they  wore  fit  and  able  to  do,  but 


464 


r  0  0  E.     LAWS 


none  to  go  or  sit  openly  a-bcgging."  It  is  noteworthy 
that,  except  a  penalty  of  20s.  imposed  on  a  person  refusing 
the  office  of  gatherer,  duties  were  enforced  by  ecclesiastical 
censure.  The  gatherers  were  required  to  account  for  the 
money ;  and  if  they  refused  the  bishop  of  the  diocese  or 
ordinary  was  to  compel  them  by  censures  of  the  church 
to  account  before  such  persons  as  he  appointed.  Further, 
if  any  person,  being  able  to  further  the  charitable  work, 
"  do  obstinately  and  frowardly  refuse  to  give  towards  the 
help  of  the  poor  or  do  wilfully  discourage  others  from 
so  charitable  a  deed,"  the  par.son,  vicar,  or  curate,  and 
churchwardens  should  "  gently  exhort  him,  and  if  he  will 
not  be  so  persuaded"  theu  on  certificate  the  bishop  should 
send  for  him  "  to  induce  and  psrsuade  him  by  charitable 
ways  and  means,  and  so  according  to  his  discretion  to  take 
order  for  the  reformation  thereof  "(5  &  G  Edw.  VI.  c.  2). 

This  statute  was  recognized  in  part  after  the  acces.sion 
of  Mary,  by  altering  the  time  of  choosing  collectors  to 
Christmas  and  doubling  the  penalty  for  refusing  to  fill  the 
office  of  collector,  and  moving  wealthy  parishes  in  cities 
and  towns  to  contribute  towards  the  relief  of  the  poor  in 
the  less  wealthy  parishes.  At  the  same  time  a  material 
modification  of  the  spirit  of  earlier  legislation  was  efiected 
by  enabling  justices  to  license  the  poor  of  parishes  having 
more  poor  than  they  could  relieve,  to  go  begging  into 
specified  parishes,  wearing  a  badge'  "  both  on  the  breast 
akd  back  of  their  outermost  garment "  (2  &  3  P.  <fc  M. 
c.  5). 

Early  in  Elizabeth's  reign  the  spiritual  persuasion 
towards  obstinate  and  froward  persons  withholding  con- 
tributions was  strengthened  by  the  aid  of  the  civil  power, 
by  directing  the  bishop  or  ordinary  to  bind  all  obstinate 
persons  by  recognizance  to  appear  at  the  next  sessions ; 
and  then,  the  charitable  and  gentle  persuasions  of  the 
justices  failing,  the  latter  could  tax  the  obstinate  person  in 
a  weekly  sum  according  to  good  discretion,  and  in  default 
commit  him  to  jail  until  payment.  A  corresponding  power 
was  given  to  deal  with  collectors  refusing  to  account  (5 
Eliz.  c.  3).  A  few  years  later  (1572)  legislation  took  a 
more  vigorous  turn  "  for  the  punishment  of  vagabonds  and 
for  relief  of  the  poor  and  impotent."  The  Act  14  Eliz. 
c.  5,  reciting  that  "all  the  parts  of  this  realm  of  England 
and  Wales  be  presently  with  rogues,  vagabond';,  and  sturdy, 
beggars  exceedingly  pestered,  by  means  whereof  daily 
happeneth  in  the  same  realm  horrible  murders,  thefts,  and 
other  great  outrages,  to  the  high  displeasure  of  Almighty 
God,  and  to  the  great  annoy  of  the  common  weal,  and  for 
avoiding  confusion  by  reason  of  numbers  of  laws  concern- 
ing the  premises  standing  in  force  together,"  repealed  the 
before-mentioned  statutes  of  22  Hen.  VIEL,  3  &  4  Edw. 
VI.,  and  5  Eliz.  c.  3,  and  made  provision  for  various  matters, 
"as  well  for  the  utter  suppressing  of  the  said  outrageous 
enemies  to  the  common  weal  as  for  the  charitable  relieving 
of  the  aged  and  impotent  poor  people."  Persons  above 
fourteen  and  being  rogues,  vagabonds,  or  sturdy  beggars, 
and  "  taken  begging  in  every  part  of  this  realm,  or  taken 
vagrant,  wandering  and  misordering  themselves,"  were 
upon  their  apprehension  to  be  committed  to  prison  to  the 
nest  sessions  or  jail  delivery  without  bail,  and  on  conviction 
"shall  be  adjudged  to  be  grievously  whipped,  and  burnt 
through  the  gristle  of  the  right  ear  with  a  hot  iron  of  the  com- 
pass of  an  inch  about,  manifesting  his  or  her  roguish  kind 
of  life  and  his  or  her  punishment  received  for  the  same." 
This  judgment  was  not  to  be  executed  if  after  imprison- 
ment "  some  honest  person,  valued  at  the  last  subsidy  next 
before  that  time  to  five  pounds  in  goods  or  twenty  shillings 
in  lands,  or  else  some  such  lionest  householder  as  ty  the 
justices  of  the  peace  of  the  same  county,  or  two  of  them, 
shall  be  allowed,  wUl  of  his  charity  take  such  offender 
before  the   sanie  justices  into  his  service  for  one  whole 


year,"  under  recognizance  to  keep  this  poor  person  foi 
that  period  and  to  bring  him,  if  still  living,  before  the 
justices  at  the  year's  end ;  on  the  other  hand  the  pauper 
departing  within  the  year  against  the  will  of  his  master 
was  to  be  whipped  and  burnt  as  above  provided.  The 
offender  was  absolved  from  a  second  punishment  for  a 
short  time,  but  if  after  threescore  days,  and  being  of  the 
age  of  eighteen  or  more,  ho  "do  eftsoons  fall  again  to  any 
kind  of  roguish  or  vagabond's  trade  of  life,"  then  the  said 
rogue,  vagabond,  or  sturdy  beggar,  from  thenceforth  was 
"  to  be  taken,  adjudged,  and  doomed  in  all  respects  as  a 
felon,"  and  should  sutler  as  a  felon, — subject,  however,  to 
like  redemption  as  on  the  first  charge,  conditioned  for 
two  years'  service ;  but  offending  a  third  time  he  was  to 
"  be  adjudged  a  felon  "  and  suffer  pains  of  death  and  loss 
of  lands  and  goods  as  a  felon,  without  allowance  or  benefit 
of  clergy  or  sanctuary.  Offenders  under  fourteen  were 
punishable  by  whipping  or  stocking  as  provided  by  the 
repealed  statutes. 

A  clause  defining  persons  subject  to  the  above  punish- 
ment throws  a  light  on  the  manners  of  the  age,  and  is,  as 
well  as  its  exceptive  provisions,  of  considerable  interest; 
but,  as  relating  to  vagrancy,  and  only  indirectly  to  the  relief 
of  the  really  poor,  it  is  not  given  here.  It  is  to  be  observed, 
however,  that  the  statute  provided  that  it  should  be  still 
lawful  to  masters  and  governors  of  hospitals  to  -lodge  or 
harbour  impotent  or  aged  persons  by  way  of  charity 
according  to  their  foundation,  and  to  give  money  in  alms 
as  provided  by  the  terms  of  their  foundation.  Harsh  as 
was  the  treatment  of  rogues,  vagabonds,  and  sturdy  beggars, 
it  was  not  so  cruel  as  the  short-lived  legislation  of  the 
reign  of  Edward  VI.  imposing  slavery  in  its  worst  form  on 
wandering  serving  men  (see  vol  xiv.  p.  168). 

Exceptional  provision  was  made  for  persons  provided 
with  passes  and  safe  conducts,  as  in  former  Acts.  The 
statute  goes  on  to  say  that,  "  forasmuch  as  charity  would 
that  poor,  aged,  and  impotent  persons  should  as  necessarily 
be  provided  for  as  the  said  rogues,  vagabonds,  and  sturdy 
beggars  repressed,"  and  that  the  former  should  have 
"  convenient  habitations  and  abiding  places  throughout  this 
realm  to  settle  themselves  upon,  to  the  end  that  they  nor 
any  of  them  should  hereafter  beg  or  wander  about,"  and 
enacts  that  justices  of  the  peace  in  their  different  divi- 
sions "  make  diligent  research  and  inquiry  of  all  aged, 
poor,  impotent,  and  decayed  persons  born  within  their 
said  divisions  and  limits,  or  which  were  there  dwelling 
within  three  years  next  before  this  present  parliament, 
which  live,  or  of  necessity  be  compelled  to  live  by  alms  of 
the  charity  of  the  people  that  be  or  shall  be  abiding  within 
the  limits  of  their  commissions  and  authorities,"  and  to 
register  in  a  book  the  names  of  the  poor  persons,  and 
devise  and  appoint  meet  and  convenient  places  at  their 
discretion  "  to  settle  ■  the  same  poor  people  for  their 
habitations  and  abidings,  if  the  parish  within  the  which 
they  shall  be  found  shall  not  or  will  not  provide  for  them." 
The  justices  were  also  to  number  the  poor  people  and 
"set  down  what  portion  the  weekly  charge  towards  their 
relief  and  sustentation  would  amount  to ;"  and,  that  done, 
the  justices,  mayors,  and  other  officers  should  "by  their 
good  discretions "  tax  the  inhabitants  dwelling  within 
these  limits  to  such  weekly  charge,  and  appoint  collectors 
and  also  overseers  of  the  poor  for  one  year.  JIuch  as  by 
a  previous  statute  of  1547,  compulsory  removal  of  poor 
people  from  parish  to  parish  (except  the  leprous  and  bed- 
ridden), not  born  or  not  having  dwelt  in  the  place,  was  pro- 
vided for.  Poor  people  refusing  to  "  be  bestowed  in  any  of 
the  said  abiding  places,  but  coveting  still  to  hold  on  their 
trade  of  begging,"  or  afterwards  departing,  were  for  the 
first  offence  to  suffer  as  rogues  or  vagabonds  in  the  first 
degree  of  punishment,  and  for  a  second  offence  to  suffer 


i^OOR     LAWS 


465 


the  last  degree  of  punisLment  already  mentiouedl  The 
lirovisions  as  to  putting  out  children  of  beggars  contained 
ia  the  statute  of  Edward  VI.  already  noticed  were  repeated 
in  nearly  the  same  terms,  but  the  age  of  male  children  was 
extended  from  eighteen  to  twenty-four  for  the  duration  of 
service. 

The  Act  provided  for  justices'  licences  for  poor  to  beg, 
ask,  and  receive  relief  in  other  parishes  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances as  badges  had  been  granted  under  an  earlier 
and  repealed  statute.  The  Act  also  contained  many  pro- 
visions and  exceptions  as  to  places  and  corporate  bodies, 
and  any  person  "  able  to  further  the  charitable  work"  con- 
templated by  the  statute,  and  obstinately  refusing  to  give 
towards  the  help  and  relief  of  the  poor,  or  wilfully  dis- 
couraging others  from  so  charitable  a  deed,  was  to  be 
summoned  before  justices  to  abide  their  order,  and  on 
refusal  to  be  committed  to  jail,  and  "there  to  remain  until 
lie  be  contented  with  their  said  order,  and  do  perform  the 
same. 

There  is  extant  a  letter  addressed  to  Lord  Burghley  by 
a  justice  of  the  peace  for  Somerset,  which  shows  that  the 
great  evils  arising  from  habits  of  idleness  amongst  the  poor 
began  then  to  be  understood,  andstiengthensthe  idea  that 
one  great  object  of  the  legislative  provisions  for  the  poor 
made  about  that  time  was  to  prevent  able-bodied  men  from 
remaining  unemployed.  The  writer  advocated  building 
houses  of  correction  adjoining  jails,  to  which  vagrants,  after 
conviction,  should  be  transported  "  to  be  kept  in  work, 
except  some  person  would  take  any  of  them  into  service," 
■ — adding,  "I  dare  presume  to  say  the  tenth  felony  will 
not  be  committed  that  now  is"  (Strype,  Annals  of  Church 
and  State). 

In  1576  the  statute  14  Eliz.  c.  5  was  explainea  and 
materially  extended.  "  To  the  intent  youth  may  be  accus- 
tomed and  brought  up  in  labour,  and  then  not  like  to  grow 
to  be  idle  rogues,  and  to  the  intent  also  that  such  as  be 
already  grown  up  in  idleness,  and  so  rogues  at  this  present, 
may  not  have  any  just  excuse  in  saying  that  they  cannot 
get  any  service  or  work,  and  that  other  poor  and  needy 
persons  being  willing  to  labour  may  be  set  on  work,"  it 
was  ordained  that  within  every  city  and  town  corporate, 
by  appointment  of  the  mayor  and  other  head  officer,  and 
in  every-  other  market  town  or  other  place  where  the 
justices  in  their  general  sessions  yearly  shall  think  meet, 
shall  be  provided  a  stock  of  wool,  hemp,  flax,  iron,  or 
other  stuff,  as  that  country  is  most  meet  for,  and  being 
wrought  to  be  delivered  to  collectors  and  governors  of  the 
peer.  Any  person  refusing  to  work,  or  begging,  or  living 
idly,  or,  taking  such  work,  spoiling  or  embezzling  it  in  such 
wise  that  after  monition  given  the  minister  and  church- 
wardens and  the  collectors  and  governors  think  such 
person  not  meet  to  have  any  more  work  delivered  to 
him,  was  to  be  taken,  "in  convenient  apparel  meet  for 
such  a  body  to  wear,"  to  the  "  house  of  correction  "  estab- 
lished by  the  Act,  and  under  the  government  of  overseers 
of  such  houses,  called  censors  and  wardens,  "  there  to  be 
straitly  kept,  as  well  in  diet  as  in  work,  and  also  punished 
from  time  to  time."  To  the  houses  of  correction  were 
also  taken  and  set  on  work  not  only  the  persons  mentioned 
but  also  such  "as  be  inhabitants  in  no  parish  or  taken  as 
rogues,  or  who  had  been  once  punished  as  rogues,  or  by 
reason  of  the  uncertainty  of  their  birth  or  of  their  dwelling 
by  the  space  of  three  years,  or  for  any  other  cause,  ought 
to  be  abiding  and  kept  in  the  county."  An  additional 
clause  of  the  Act,  reciting  that  by  the  earlier  Act  of  14 
Eliz.  no '"pain"  was  incurred  by  any  impotent  person  who 
having  a  competent  allowance  provided  within  his  parish 
wandered  abroad  without  licence  "loitering  and  begging," 
enacted  that  he  was  to  be  whipped,  and  for  a  second  offence 
toi'suffecas  a  rogue  and  vagabond  "  (18  Eliz.  c.  3).     The 


""stock"  for  work  and  the  houses  of  correction  were  provided 
"of  all  the  inhabita:nts  to  be  taxed;"  but,  "  because  it  is  to 
be  hoped  that  many  well-disposed  persons,  understanding 
the  good  success  which  will  grow  by  setting  people  on  work 
and  avoiding  of  idleness,  would  from  time  to  time  give 
towards  the  sustentation  and  maintenance  of  that  goi'<J 
purpose,"  persons  were  empowered  during  the  next  twenty 
years  to  give  lands  for  the  purposes  without  any  licence 
of  mortmain.  A  later  Act,  reciting  that  this  power  to 
erect  hospitals  or  other  abiding  and  working  houses  for 
the  poor  had  not  its  due  effect  by  reason  that  no  person 
could  erect  such  house  without  special  licence  from  the 
crown  by  letters  patent,  dispensed  with  such  licence  for 
twenty  years  (39  Eliz.  c.  5). 

The  numerous  charities  and  endowments  and  founda- 
tions of  almshouses  by  will  and  otherwise  of  the  16th  and 
17th  centuries,  still  extant  in  numerous  buildings  through- 
out the  country,  are  illustrations  of  the  spirit  of  the  legis- 
lation here  referred  to.  It  is  not  improbable  that  legisla- 
tion sometimes  prompted  the  donors,  but  moro  probable 
that  such  legislation  was  a  reflex  of  the  general  disposition 
prevalent  for  generations  after  the  ordinary  channels  o{ 
voluntary  charity  were  obstructed. 

In  1597  considerable  progress  was  made  towards  estab 
lishing  a  system  of  poor  laws,  not  so  much  by  introducing 
novelties  as  by  entering  more  specifically  into,  details, 
and  especially  by  defining  the  legislation  of  some  twenty 
years  earlier  (18  Eliz.  c.  3)  in  the  same  reign.  Tha 
appointment  of  overseers  first  mentioned  in  the  earliej 
statute  was  provided  for  by  enacting  that  the  church* 
wardens  of  every  parish  and  four  subsidy  men  or  othei 
substantial  householders  nominated  yearly  in  Easter  week 
by  justices  should  be  called  overseers  of  the  poor  of  the 
same  parish.  The  majority  of  the  overseers  were  required 
with  the  consent  of  justices  to  set  to  work  the  children 
of  persons  unable  to  maintain  them,  and  also  all  persona 
married  or  single  and  having  no  means  of  maintenance 
and  no  ordinary  and  daily  trade  of  life  to  got  their  living 
by.  The  taxation  weekly  or  otherwise  of  inhabitants  and 
occupiers  for  providing  a  stock  of  flax,  heTnp,  wool,  thread, 
iron,  and  other  necessary  wares  and  stuff  to  set  the  poor 
on  work,  and  also  competent  sums  for  the  necessary  relief 
of  the  lame,  impotent,  old,  blind  poor,  unable  to  work, 
and  the  cost  of  erection,  by  leave  of  the  lords  of  manors, 
of  places  of  habitation  on  waste  or  common  lands,  was 
gathered  according  to  the  ability  of  the  parish  (or,  if  the 
parish  was  unable,  then  of  other  parishes  in  the  hundred 
and  county),  and  was  enforceable  by  warrant  of  distress 
against  every  one  refusing  to  contribute,  but  with  a  power 
of  appeal  against  the  cess  or  tax.  Parents  and  children 
being  of  sufficient  ability  were  required  to  maintain  their 
jjoor  children  or  parents.  Any  person  whatsoever  wander- 
ing abroad  and  begging  in  any  place,  by  licence  or  without, 
was  punishable  as  a  rogue,  with  a  proviso  exempting  poor 
persons  asking  relief  in  victuals  only  in  the  parishes  whero 
they  dwelt  (39  Eliz.  c.  3). 

Four  years  after  came  "the  famous  statute"  of  1601' 
(43  Eliz.  c.  2)  already  mentioned,  out  of  which  Pr  Burn 
observes,  "  more  litigation  and  a  grerter  amount  of  revenue 
have  arisen,  with  consequences  more  extensive  and  moro 
serious  in  their  aspect,  than  ever  were  identified  with  any 
other  Act  of  Parliament  or  system  of  legislation  whatever. "^ 
It  was  the  permanent  establishment  of  the  main  pro- 
visions of  the  Act  moro  than  their  novelty  at  the  timo 
the  Act  was  passed  that  has  fixed  it  as  a  kind  of  epoch  in 
legislation  for  the  maintenance  of  the  poor.  The  Act 
re-enacts,  verbatim  for  the  most  part,  the  above-mentioned 
statute  of  1597  (39  Eliz.  c.  3).  The  material  alterations 
were  defining  the  rateable  [iroperty,  and  extending  and 
defining  the  family  obligation  of  sujiport,  and  also  tho 


:in-iH 


466 


POOE     LAWS 


fonnal  apprenticing  instead  of  placing  out  of  ctildren. 
The  Act  contains  provisions  for  the  rendering  of  accounts 
by  the  overseers. 

The  foregoing  short  review  of  legislation^  exhibits,  the' 
very  gradual  change  by  ■which  the  maintenance  of  the  poof 
became  much  more  a  temporal  than  a  spiritual  concern.  ' 
So  gradual  was  this  change  that  in  some  places  the  law 
was  neglected  and  in  others  abused.  The  material  changes 
in  legislation  subsequent  to  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  must 
now  be  briefly  alluded  to. 

The  efforts  culminating  in  the  statute  of  1601  were 
not  altogether  attended  with  satisfactory  results.  At  the 
end  of  eight  years  the  Act  7  James  I.  c.  4  recited  various 
defects.  "  Many  wilful  people  finding  that  they,  having 
children,  have  some  hope  to  have  relief  from  the  parish 
wherein  they  dwell,  and  being  able  to  labour,  and  thereby 
to  relieve  themselves  and  their  famUies,  do  nevertheless 
run  away  out  of  their  parishes  and  leave  their  families 
upon  the  parish."  Again,  and  more  prominently,  "  hereto- 
fore divers  good  and  necessary  laws  and  statutes  have 
been  made  and  provided  for  the  creation  of  bouses  of 
correction-,  for  the  suppressing  and  punishing  of  rogues, 
vagabonds,  and  other  idle,  vagr^nt^  and  disorderly  persons ; 
which  laws  have  not  WTOught  so  good  effect  as  was 
expected,  as  well  for  that  the  said  houses  of  correction 
have  not  been  built  according  af  was  intended,  as  also  for 
that  the  said  statutes  have  not  been  duly  and  severely  put 
in  execution,  as  by  the  said  statutes  were  appointed." 

It  was  also  convenient  that  the  masters  or  governors  of 
the  houses  of  correction  should  have  some  fit  allowance 
and  maintenance  "  for  their  travel  and  care  "  to  be  had  in 
the  service,  and  also  "  for  the  relieving  of  Such  as  shall 
happen  to  be  weak  and  sick  in  their  custody,  and  that 
the  subjects  of  this  realm  should  in  no  sort  be  over-charged, 
to  raise  up  money  for  stocks  to  set  such  on  work  as  shall 
be  committed  to  their  custody,"  and  that  there  "  shall  be 
the  more  care  taken  by  all  such  masters  of  the  houses  of 
correction  that,  when  the  country  hath  been  at  trouble 
and  charge  to  bring  all  disorderly  persons  to  their  safe 
keeping,  then  they  shall  perform  their  duties  in  that 
behalf."  Another  grievance  related  to  bastard  children 
chargeable  to  the  parish,  of  which  more  below. 

The  remedy  for  these  and  other  grievances  was  putting 
in  execution  "all  laws  and  statutes  now  in  force  made  for 
the  creating  and  building  of  houses  of  correction,  and  for 
punishing  of  rogues,  vagabonds,  and  other  wandering  and 
idle  persons,"  and  providing  restraints  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, and  for  the  efficient  discharge  of  duties  of  treasurers, 
constables,  and  other  officers  in  rendering  accounts. 

In  1G30  a  royal  commission  was  issued  to  inquire  into 
the  neglect  of  the  poor  laws,  and  directions  given  for  their 
enforcement. 
CoraiDon-  By  a  Commonwealth  statute  of  1656,  reciting  that  "the 
■wealth,  number  of  wandering,  idle,  loose,  dissolute,  and  disorderly 
persons  is  of  late  jnuch  increased  by  reason  of  some  defects 
in  the  laws,  and  $latutes  heretofore  made  and  provided  for 
the  punishment  of  rogues,  vagabonds,  and  sturdy  beggars 
(they  being  seldom  taken  begging),  by  means  whereof 
divers  robberies,  burglaries,  thefts,  insurrections,  and  other 
misdemeanours  have  been  occasioned,  all  and  every  idle, 
loose,  and  dissolute  persons  found  and  taken  within  the 
commonwealth  of  England,  vagrant  and  wandering  from 
their  usual  place  of  living  or  abode,  and  [who]  shall  not 
have  such  good  and  sufficient  cause  or  business  for  such 
his  or  their  travelling  or  wandering"  as  justices  of  the 
l)eace  or  mayors  or  other  chief  officers  approved,  were 
adjudged  rogues,  vagabonds,  and  sturdy  beggars,  within 
the  statute  30  Eliz.  c.  4,  although  not  found  begging  ;  at 
tiic  same  time  fuldlcrs  and  minstrels  were  also  adjudged 
rogues,  vagabonds,  and  sturdy  beggars  ;   and  by  a  statute 


of  the  same  year  persons  having  no  visible  estate,  profes- 
sion, or  calling  answerable  to  their  rate  of  living  expenses 
were  indictable. 

Soon  after  the  Eestoration  attention  was  directed  to  the 
fexisting  state  of  the  law  and  some  of  its  defects.  In 
1662  the  statute  13  &  14  Charles  II.  c.  12  recites  that 
"  the  necessity,  number,  and  continued  increase  of  the  poor, 
not  only  within  the  cities  of  London  and  Westminster, 
with  the  liberties  of  each  of  them,  but  also  through  the 
whole  kingdom  of  England  and  dominion  of  Wales,  is 
very  great  and  exceeding  burthensome,  being  occasioned 
by  reason  of  some  defects  in  the  law  concerning  the 
settling  of  the  poor,  and  for  want  of  a  due  pro^vision  for 
the  regulations  of  relief,  and  employment  in  such  parishes 
or  places  where  they  are  legally  settled,  which  doth  enforce 
many  to  turn  incorrigible  rogues,  and  others  to  perish  for 
want,  together  with  the  neglect  of  the  faithful  execution 
of  such  laws  and  statutes  as  have  formerly  been  made  for 
the  apprehending  of  rogues  and  vagabonds,  and  for  the 
good  of  the  poor."  "For  remedy  whereof  and  for  the 
preventing  the  perishing  of  any  of  the  poor,  whether  young 
or  old,  for  want  of  such  supplies  as  may  be  necessary," 
numerous  additional  provisions  were  enacted.  In  the 
first  place,  "  by  reason  of  some  defects  in  the  law,  poor 
people  are  not  restrained  from  going  from  one  parish  to 
another,  and  therefore  do  endeavour  to  settle  themselves 
in  those  parishes  where  there  is  the  best  stock,  the  largest 
commons  or  wastes  to  bftild  cottages,  and  the  most  woods 
for  them  to  burn  and  destroy,  and,  when  they  have  con- 
sumed it,  then  to  another  parish,  and  at  last  become 
rogues  and  vagabonds,  to  the  great  discouragement  of 
parishes  to  provide  stocks,  where  it  is  liable  to  be 
devoured  by  strangers."  Justices  of  the  peace,  upon  com- 
plaint by  the  parish  officers,  within  forty  days  after  any 
such  person's  coming  to  settle  as  before  mentioned  in  any 
tenement  under  the  yearly  value  of  £10,  were  empowered 
by  warrant  to  remove  such  person  to  the  parish  where  ho 
was  last  legally  settled  either  as  a  native,  householder, 
sojourner,  apprentice,  or  servant  for  not  less  than  forty 
days,  unless  he  gave  sufficient  security  for  the  discharge 
of  the  parish. 

In  this  way  the  law  of  settlement  arose,  ■with  its  numer- 
ous complications  and  modifications  engrafted  by  subse- 
quent legislation  on  this  its  original  trunk.  The  statute 
of  Charles,  however,  allowed  (§  3)  any  person  "  to  go  into 
any  county,  parish,  or  place  to  work  in  the  time  of 
harvest,  or  any  time  to  work  at  any  other  work,"  provided 
he  took  ■with  him  "a  certificate  from  the  minister  of  the 
parish  and  one  of  the  parish  officers,  that  he  or  they  have 
a  dwelling  house  or  place  in  which  he  or  they  inhabit, 
and  have  left  wife  and  children,  or  some  of  them,  there  (or 
otherwise,  as  the  condition  of  the  persons  shall  require), 
and  is  declared  an  inhabitant  or  inhabitants  there."  In 
such  case,  if  the  person  did  not  return  to  his  parish  when 
his  work  was  finished,  or  if  he  fell  sick,  it  was  not 
"  counted  a  settlement,"  and  he  was  therefore  removable, 
and,  wilfully  refusing,  was  punishable  as  a  vagabond  by 
being  sent  to  the  house  of  correction,  or  to  a  public  work- 
house, provision  for  which  and  for  corporate  bodies  in 
relation  to  the  poor  in  London  and  Westminster,  and 
places  within  the  so-called  bills  of  mortality,  was  made  at 
the  same  time.  Funds  raised  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  in 
the  city  of  London  were,  however,  previously  in  the  hands 
of  a  corporate  body  for  that  jiurpose. 

The  same  statute,  reciting  that  "the  inhabitants  of  tho 
counties  of  Lancashire,  Cheshire,  -Derbyshire,  Yorkshire, 
Northumberland,  tho  bishopric  of  Durham,  Curaberlauc', 
and  Westmoreland,  and  many  other  counties  in  England 
and  Wales,  by  reason  of  the  largeness  of  the  parishes 
within  the  same,"  could  not  reap  the  benefit  of  the  Act 


POOR      L  A  W  « 


46- 


43  £liz.,  extended  the  powcrs'of    tlic''Act"  to  townships' 
and  villages  witl.in  these  counties. 

Power  was  given  to  justices  at  quarter  sessions,  to  trans- 
port rogues,  vagabonds,  and  sturdy  beggars,  in  some  cases 
with  the  approval  of  the  privy  council,  or  without  such 
approval,  if  convicted  and  adjudged  to  be  incorrigible,  to 
any  of  the  English  plantations  beyond  the  seas,  "there 
to  be  disposed  in  the  usual  way  of  servants  for  a  term  not 
exceeding  seven  years." 

This  Act,  whicb,  except  as  to  the  corporate  bodies  before 
mentioned,  was  limited  to  three  years'  duration,  was  con- 
tinued by  various  Acts,  and  made  perpetual  in  the  reign  of 
Anne.  One  of  the  Acts  continuing  the  former  provisions, 
and  containing  some  minute  provisions  affecting  settle- 
ments, affords  strong  evidence  of  want  of  care  of  the  funds, 
&nd  even  of  the  frauds  practised  by  parochial  officers. 
Many  inconveniences  arose  "  by  reason  of  the  unlimited 
jjower  of  the  churchwardens  and  overseers  of  the  poor,  who 
do  frequently  upon  frivolous  pretences  (but  chiefly  for 
their  own  private  ends)  give  relief  to  what  persons  and 
number  they  think  fit;  and  such  persons,  being  entered 
into  the  collection  bill,  do  become  after  that  a  great  charge 
to  the  parish,  notwithstanding  the  occasion  or  pretence 
of  their  receiving  collection  oftentimes  ceases,  by  which 
means  the  rates  for  the  poor  are  daily  increased."  This 
grievance  was  sought  to  be  remedied  by  means  of  a 
register  with  names  and  dates,  to  bo  Texamined  by  the 
vestry,  and  those  only  to  be  relieved  who  were  allowed 
by  a  justice,  except  in  certain  urgent  case.«i.  The  Act 
mentions  more  direct  frauds.  "  Many  churchwardens  and 
overseers  of  the  poor,  and  other  persons  intrusted  to  receive 
collections  for  the  poor  and  other  public  moneys  relating 
to  the  churches  and  parishes  whoreunto  they  do  belong, 
do  often  misspend  the  said  monej\s  and  take  the  same  to 
their  own  use,  to  the  great  prejudice  of  such  parishes, 
and  the  poor  and  other  inhabitants  thereof,"  owing  to  the 
law  by  which  persons  in  any  way  interested  in  the  funds, 
as  parishioners,  although  the  only  persons  who  could 
prove  the  facts,  could  not  give  evidence  on  the  trial  of 
actions  against  the  parish  officers  to  recover  the  misspent 
money;  and  therefore  parishioners,  excepting  almsmen, 
were  rendered  competent  witnesses  in  such  actions  (3  Will. 
iSi  Mary  c.  11). 
it  The  injurious  effects  of  the  restraint  placed  on  the  free 
J  removal  of  the  labouring  classes  is  evinced  by  a  statute 
•vi  towards  the  close  of  the  17  th  century.  To  make  this  in- 
telligible it  is  necessary  to  say  that  by  the  statute  1  Jamca 
IL  c.  17  (one  of  tho  Acts  continuing  the  Act  of  Charles  II.) 
it  was  enacted  that,  as  poor  persons  "at  their  first 
coming  to  a  parish  do  commonly  conceal  themselves,"  the 
forty  days  continuance  in  a  parish  intended  by  the  Act  of 
Charles  to  make  a  settlement  were  to  bo  accounted  from 
the  time  of  the  person's  delivering  a  notice  in  writing  of 
the  house  of  abode  and  number  of  the  family  to  the 
parish  officer.  Hence  persons  coming  to  work  under  a 
certificate,  on  its  production,  were  removed  back  again, 
lest  they  gained  a  settlement  at  tho  cud  of  forty  days. 
The  statute  now  to  be  noticed  recited  that,  "  forasmuch 
ns  many  j)oor  persons  chargeable  to  the  parish,  township, 
or  place  yvheve  they  live,  merely  for  want  of  work,  would, 
in  any  other  place  where  sufllcient  employment  is  to  bo 
had,  maintain  themselves  and  families  without  being 
burthensomc  to  any  parish,  township,  or  place,  but  not 
being  able  to  give  such  security  as  will  or  may  bo  ex- 
pected and  required  upon  their  coming  to  settle  themselves 
in  any  other  place,  and  the  certificates  that  have  been 
usually  given  in  such  cases  having  been  oftentimes  con 
etrucd  into  a  notice  in  handwriting,  they  are  for  tho  most 
part  confined  to  live  in  their  own  parishes,  townships,  or 
])laces,  and  not  permitted  to  inhabit  elsewhere,  .though 


theiflabour  is  wanted'in' many  other  places,  where  the 
increase  of  manufactures  would  employ  more  hands." 
This  mischievous  result  of  previous  legislation  was  sought 
to  be  avoided  by  a  certificate  of  acknowledgment  of  settle' 
ment,  and  then  and  not  before,  on  becoming  chargeable  ti 
another  parish,  the  certificated  person  could  be  sent  back 
to  the  parish  whence  it  was  brought  (8  it  9  Will.  III.  c; 
30).  This  provision  led  to  additional  legislation,  com- 
plicating the  law  of  settlement.  It  was  not  until  towards 
the  close  of  the  ISth  century  that  an  important  inroad  on 
the  law  relating  to  the  removal  of  the  poor  was  made  by 
requiring  actual  chargeability  before  removal  to  their  place 
of  settlement  (3.5  Geo.  KI.  c.  101)  ;  and  at  the  same  time 
justices  were  empowered  to  suspend  removal  in  the  case  of 
sickness. 

By  the  statute  of  William  III.  (8  ifc  9  Will.  III.  c.  30), 
"  to  the  end  that  the  money  raised  only  for  the  relief  of 
such  as  are  as  well  impotent  as  poor  may  not  be  mis- 
applied and  consumed  by  the  idle,  sturdy,  and  disorderly 
beggars,"  persons  receiving  parochial  relief  and  their  wivea 
and  children  were  required  (under  the  puijishment  for  re- 
fusal of  imprisonment  and  whipping,  or  of  having  the  relicfa 
abridged  or  withdrawn)  to  wear  a  badge  on  tho  shoulder  ol 
the  right  sleeve — that  is  to  say,  a  large  "  P  "  together  with 
the  first  letter  of  the  name  of  the  parish  or  place,  cut  in 
red  or  blue  cloth  ;  and  a  penalty  was  imposed  on  church- 
wardens and  overseers  relieving  poor  persons  not  wearing 
such  badge.  The  provision  (a  revival  of  a  much  earlier 
law)  continued  down  to  1810,  when  it  was  abolished. 

In  1744  provision  was  made  reviving  rather  than  in- passes, 
troducing  a  system  of  magisterial  "passes"  for  passing 
persons  apprehended  as  rogues  and  vagabonds  to  their 
place  of  settlement  (17  Geo.  II.  c.  5).  Great  abuses  in 
conveying  persons  by  passes,-  attributed  to  the  neglect  of 
this  Act,  led  to  its  amendment  nearly  half  a  century 
later.  Although  these  statutes  fell  into  disuse  they  were 
not  finally  repealed  until  after  the  introduction  of  the 
present  poor-law  system. 

In  1722  the  system  of  farming  the  poor  was  introduced.  Farming 
By  9  Geo.  I.  c.  7,  "for  the  greater  ease  of  parishes  in  the  "'*  P*"" 
relief  of  the  poor,"  parish  officers  with  the  consent  of  the' 
parishioners  or  inhabitants  in  vestry  were  authorized  to 
purchase  of  hire  houses,  "  and  to  contract  with  any  person 
or  persons  for  the  lodging,  keeping,  maintaining,  and  em- 
ploying any  or  all  such  poor  in  their  respective  parishes,' 
townships,  or  places,  as  shall  desire  to  receive  relief  or 
collection  from  this  same  parish,  and  there  to  keep,  main- 
tain, and  employ  all  such  poor  persons,  and  take  the  benefit 
of  the  work,  labour,  and  service  of  any  such  poor  person 
or  persons  who  shall  bo  kept  or  maintained  in  any  such 
house  or  houses,  for  tho  better  maintenance  and  relief  of 
such  poor  persons  who  shall  be  there  kept  or  maintained." 
Any  poor  persons  refusing  to  be  so  lodged  were  not  to  bo 
entitled  to  relief.  Small  parishes  could  unite  or  contract 
with  another  parish  for  tho  maintenance  of  the  poor. 

A  few  years  sufficed  to  develop  the  injurious  effects  of 
this  mode  of  dealing  with  the  j)oor,  and  the  accumulated 
evils  of  the  working  of  the  poor  laws  led,  in  1783,  to  the 
passing  of  the  statute  22  Geo.  III.  c.  83,  known  as 
"  Gilbert's  Act,"  the  principle  of  which  was  extensively 
adopted  in  subsequent  legislation.  The  Act  significantly 
recited  that,  notwithstanding  the  many  laws  now  in  being 
for  the  relief  and  employment  of  tho  poor,  and  the  great 
sums  of  money  raised  for  those  persons,  their  sufferings 
and  distresses  are  nevertheless  very  grievous,  and  by  th^ 
incapacity,  negligence,  or  misconduct  of  overseers,  tht 
money  raised  for  the  relief  of  tho  poor  is  frequently 
misapplied,  and  sometimes  expended  in  defraying  tli{ 
charges  of  litigations  about  settlements  indiscreetly  and 
inadvisably  carried  on,  and  also  recited  the  provisions  ol 


ms 


POOR      LAWS 


the  9  Geo.  I.  c.  7",  relating  to  contracts  for  the  maintenance 
of  tlie  poor,  and  that  such  provisions,  from  the  want  of 
proper  regulations  and  management  in  the  poorhouses  or 
workhouses  that  have  been  purchased  or  hired  under  the 
authority  of  the  said  Act  and  for  want  of  due  inspection 
and  control  over  the  persons  who  have  engaged  in  those 
contracts,  have  not  had  the  desired  effect,  "  but  the  poor 
in  many  places,  instead  of  finding  protection  and  relief, 
have  been  much  oppressed  thereby. "  "  For  the  remedy 
of  these  grievances  and  iaconvenience.s,  and  in  order  to 
make  better  and  more  effectual  provision  for  the  relief  and 
employment  of  the  poor,  and  to  introduce  a  prudent 
economy  in  the  expenditure  of  the  parish  money,"  much 
legislative  machinery  was  introduced,  which,  although  not 
compulsory,  was  very  extensively  adopted,  and  ^yith  many 
amendments  remained  on  the  statute  book  long  after  the 
Poor  Law  Amendment  Act  of  1834.  Although  the  Act 
lias  now  disappeared,  having  been  expressly  repealed  (as  it 
was  by  implication  previously)  in  1871,  Gilbert's  Act  is 
memorable  as  having  first  introduced  the  representation 
of  the  poor  by  guardians,  although  not  by  the  present 
system  of  election.  The  Act  rei)ealed  9  Geo.  I.  c.  7,  as 
regarded  the  farming  of  the  poor  where  Gilbert's  Act  was 
adopted,  but  agreements  for  the  diet  and  clothing  and 
work  of  poor  in  poorhouses,  subsequently  termed  "  houses 
of  industry,"  were  expressly  sanctioned.  The  limits  of 
this  article  do  not  admit  even  of  an  analysis  of  this  im- 
portant statute.  In  many  respects  a  double  system  of 
administration  sprang  up  in  parishes,  single  or  united, 
adopting  Gilbert's  Act,  and  in  parishes  not  under  that 
Act.  In  both,  the  conflict  between  the  administration  of 
relief  m  and  out  of  the  poorhouse  arose,  and  continued 
from  the  time  of  the  establishment  of  places  of  work 
whether  termed  workhouses,  poorhouses,  or  houses  of 
industry,  and  whether  under  special  local  or  under  general 
Acts. 
Relief  in  In  1795  the  36  Geo.  III.  c.  23,  reciting  that  a  pro- 
«nd  out  vision  of  the  9  Geo.  L  c.  7,  prohibiting  relief  to  persons 
''  ''*'<  refusing  to  go  into  poorhouses,  "  has  been  found  to  have 
''  been  and  to  be  inconvenient  and  oppressive,  inasmuch  as 
it  often  prevents  an  industriouS  poor  person  from  receiving 
such  occasional  relief  as  is  best  suited  to  the  peculiar  case 
of  such  poor  person,  and  inasmuch  as  in  certain  cases 
it  holds  out  conditions  of  relief  injurious  to  the  comfort 
and  domestic  situation  and  harjipiness  of  such  poor  per- 
sons," gave  power  to  the  overseers,  with  the  approbation 
of  the  parishioners  in  vestry  or  of  a  justice  of  the  peace,  to 
distribute  and  pay  collection  and  relief  to  industrious  poor 
persons  at  their  homes  under  certain  circumstances  of 
temporary  illness  or  distress,  and  in  certain  cases  respect- 
ing such  poor  persons  or  their  families,  or  respecting  the 
situation,  health,  or  condition  of  any  poorhouse,  in  any 
place  wherein  houses  shall  have  been  hired  or  built  and  a 
contract  made  with  any  person  for  lodging,  maintaining, 
and  employing  the  poor,  although  the  poor  persons  refused 
to  bo  so  lodged  and  maintained.  Justices  had  besides  a 
"just  and  proper  discretion  "  for  special  cause  stated  in 
writing  to  order  relief  for  a  time  not  exceeding  a  month. 
This  Act,  however,  did  not  extend  to  places  where  houses 
of  industry  or  other  places  were  provided  under  Gilbert's 
Act  or  under  any  special  Act. 

The  evils  arising  from  farming  the  poor  under  the  9 
Geo.  I.  c.  7  nevertheless  continued  in  places  not  adopting 
Gilbert's  Act.  Contractors  were  often  non-resident  and 
not  of  sufficient  responsibility  to  insure  performance  of 
their  undertaking.  In  1805  these  special  defects  were 
sought  to  be  met  by  requiring  residence,  sureties,  and  the 
approval  of  the  contract  by  two  justices  (45  Geo.  III.  c. 
54).  But  these  remedies  did  not  touch  the  whole  extent 
of  the  evil  of  neglect  of  the  poor.     The  laws  for  regulating 


llQUB^ 


Select 
vestriej 


workhouses  and  poorhouses  were  found  deficient  and  in- 
effectual, especially  when  the  poor  in  such  houses  were 
"afflicted  with  contagious  or  infectious  diseases,  in  which 
cases  particular  attention  to  their  lodging,  diet,  clothing, 
bedding,  and  medicine  is  requisite."  A  statute  passed  in 
1790  (30  Geo.  III.  c.  49)  enabled  justices,  or  medical  mea 
authorized  by  them  or  the  officiating  clergyman  of  ilm 
parish,  to  visit  workhouses,  and  on  finding  cause  for  com- 
plaint to  certify  to  the  quarter  sessions,  and  thereupon 
the  court  was  authorized  to  make  orders  for  removing  any 
cause  of  complaint ;  and,  moreover,  without  waiting  for  this 
dilatory  process,  if  on  the  visitation  any  of  the  poor  were 
found  afflicted  with  any  contagious  or  infectious  disease, 
or  in  want  of  immediate  medical  or  other  assistance,  or  of 
sufficient  food,  or  requiring  separation  or  removal,  justices 
of  the  division  were  empowered  to  make  an  order  for  im- 
mediate relief  according  to  the  nature  of  the  applicatioB. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  legislation  of  five  years 
later  already  noticed  (36  Geo.  III.  c.  23)  had  reference  to 
cases  of  this  kind  as  well  as  to  the  hardships  inherent  in 
the  rigid  application  of  the  practice  of  confining  relief  to 
the  workhouse. 

In  1819  an  Act  (59  Geo.  III.  c.  12)  was  passed,  the  result 
of  the  report  of  a  committee  appointed  two  years  beforo, 
containing  a  variety  of  provisions  relating  to  the  poor, 
empowering  the  establishment  of  select  vestries  "  for  the 
concerns  of  the  poor"  and  regulating  their  proceedings. 
Where  these  were  established  overseers  were  prohibited 
from  giving  relief  other  than  that  ordered  by  the  vestries, 
except  temporary  relief  in  cases  of  suddeu  emergency  or 
urgent  necessity.  Justices  had  the  power,  as  under  earlier 
provisions,  to  order  temporary  relief  in  such  cases,  but  they 
were  prohibited  from  ordering  relief  in  parishes  where  select 
vestries  were  established  or  in  which  the  relief  of  the  poor 
was  under  the  management  of  guardians,  governors,  or 
directors,  unless  relief  had  been  refused  by  such  bodies. 

An  amelioration  of  the  harsher  features  of  the  law,  and  V.igrail 
the  separation  of  that  branch  of  it  relating  to  vagrancy, 
are  found  in  the  legislation  of  the  18th  and  early  part  of 
the  19th  century.  In  early  times,  as  has  been  pointed 
out,  legislation  affecting  labour  and  vagrancy  was  blended. 
Very  gradually  labour  was  left  to  run  a  freer  course. 
Provisions  as  to  vagrancy  and  mendicity,  including  strm- 
gent  laws  iu  relation  to  constructive  "sturdy  beggars," 
"rogues,"  and  "vagabonds,"  still  formed  a  prominent 
feature  of  poor-law  legislation. 

In  17 13  an  Act  was  passed  for  reducing  the  laws  relating 
to  rogues,  vagabonds,  sturdy  beggars,  and  vagrants  iuto  one 
Act,  and  for  more  effectually  punishing  them  and  sending 
them  to  their  homes,  the  mannerof  conveying  them  including, 
whipping  in  every  county  through  which  they  passed  (12 
Anne,  st.  2,  c.  23).  This  Act  was  in  turn  repealed  iu  1740'; 
and  the  sulDStituted  Consolidation  Act  (13  Geo.  II.  c.  24), 
embracing  a  variety  of  provisions,  made  a  distinctioa 
between  idle  and  disorderly  persons,  rogues  and  vagabonds, 
and  incorrigible  rogues.  Four  years  later  a  statute 
reciting  that  "  the  number  of  rogues,  vagabonds,  beggars, 
and  other  idle  and  disorderly  persons  daily  increases,  to 
the  great  scandal,  loss,  and  annoyance  of  the  kingdom," 
deals  with  a '  great  variety  of  offences,  continuing  the 
rough  classification  already  mentioned,  and  including 
among  "  idle  and  disorderly  persons "  punishable  with 
hard  labour  in  the  house  of  correction  "  all  persons  who 
shall  run  away  and  leave  their  wives  or  children  to  the 
parish  "  and  "  all  persons  who  shall  unlawfully  return  to 
the  parish  or  place  from  whence  they  have  been  legally 
removed  by  order  of  justices,  without  bringing  a  certifi- 
cate," and  also  "all  persons  who,  not  having  wherewith  to 
maintain  themselves,  live  idly  without  employment  and 
refuse  to  work  for  the  usual  and  common  wages  given  to 


i 


P  0  0  Ft     LAWS 


469 


otbor  labourers  on  the  like  work,  in  the  parishes  or  places 
where  they  then  are,"  and  also  all  persons  begging  alms 
(17  Goo.  II.c.  5). 

The  laws  relating  to  idle  and  disorderly  persons,  rognes 
and  vagabonds,  incorrigible  rogues,  and  other  vagrants  in 
England  were  again  consolidated  and  amended  in  1822 
(3  Geo.  IV.  c.  40),  but  the  Act  being  temporary  and 
requiring  amendment,  was  superseded  two  years  later  by 
the  present  Act,  5  Geo.  IV.  c.  83,  commonly  spoken  of  as 
the  Vagrant  Act,  which  with  some  additions  and  amend- 
ments includes  the  law  relating  to  mendicity  and  some 
provisions  concerning  persons  deserting  or  neglecting  to 
support  their  families.  Mendicity  in  the  popular  sense  is 
now  considered  as  appertaining  to  police  rather  than  to 
poor  laws.  It  must  suffice  here  to  note  the  change  from 
fbrmer  inhuman  laws  denoted  by  the  fact  that  corporal 
panishmcnt  is  confined  by  the  Vagrant  Act  to  the  permis- 
dve  infliction  of  whipping  on  male  persons  imprisoned  as 
incorrigible  rogues. 

The  misdoings  of  the  "  vagrant  train,"  so  often  paraded 
by  statute  and  so  severely  treated  in  former  times, "seem  to 
have  been  trifling  compared  with  the  iniquities  of  some  of 
thoee  engaged  in  the  administration  of  poor-law  relief.  In 
1769  it  was  found  necessary  to  prevent  churchwardens  and 
overseers  from  wilfully  and  kno^\^ngly  making  payments  to 
or  for  the  use  of  the  poor  in  base  and  counterfeit  money 
(9  Geo.  III.  0.  37).  For  this  heinous  offence  a  penalty 
Ihnited  to  twenty  shillings  was  imposed.  The  curious 
may  compare  this  mild  punishment  with  that  inflicted  on  a 
wanderer  from  his  home;  for  as  recently  as  1816  it  was 
thought  right  to  declare  that  it  should  not  be  lawful 
for  any  governor,  guardian,  or  master  of  any  house  of 
industry  or  workhouse  on  any  pretence  to  chain  or  confine 
by  chains  or  manacles  any  poor  person  of  sane  mind,  a 
provision  significant  of  what  passed  within  the  walls  by  its 
prohibition  as  well  as  by  the  limitation. 

Such  were  the  most  salient  features  of  the  legislation 
respecting  the  relief  of  the  poor  previous  to  the  reform  of 
parliament  itself  in  1832. 

It  had  long  been  seen  that  there  was  something  wrong 
.which  legislation  had  failed  to  set  right.  Sir  Matthew 
_  Hale  framed  a  scheme  which  was  written  soon  after  the 
middle  of  the  17th  century,  although  not  printed  until  after 
his  death.  The  chief  feature  of  his  plan  was  "  that  the 
justices  of  the  peace  at  the  quarter  sessions  do  set  out 
and  distribute  the  parishes  in  their  several  counties  into 
several  divisions,  in  each  of  which  there  may  be  a 
workhouse  for  the  common  use  of  the  respective  divisions 
wherein  they  are  respectively  placed, — to  wit,  one,  two, 
three,  four,  five,  or  six  parishes  to  a  workhouse  according  to 
4lie  greatness  or  smallness  and  accommodation  of  the  several 
parishes,"  and  that  providing  "a  stock"  for  work  in  and 
out  of  the  workhouses  should"  be  made  compulsory.  His 
views  are  thus  stated  : — 

"  At  this  day,  it  accms  to  mo  that  tho  English  ration  is  morp 
iloficioiit  in  their  prudent  provision  for  tlio  poor  than  any  otlicr 

Olnistiaii  state In  some  otiier  countries  a  begpir  is  a 

a  rare  sijjht.  Those  that  are  unable  to  maintain  themselves  by 
iu;o  or  inipotency  are  relieved.  And  those  that  are  able  to  sujiply 
their  wants  by  their  labour  are  furnished  with  employments  suit- 
able to  thcii-  condition,  And  by  this  means  there  is  not  only  a 
Rooil  and  orderly  edueation  and  a  decent  face  of  tho  public,  but  tho 
more  populous  tho  stale  or  country  is  tho  richer  and  tho  more 
wcalt'iiy  it  is.  But  with  us  in  En;;land,  for  want  of  a  due  regula- 
tion of  thin;js,  tho  more  populous  we  are  the  poorer  wo  arc  ;  so  that 
wliorcin  tho  strenf;tli  and  wealth  of  a  kingdom  consists  renders  us 
the  weaker  niul  the  jioorer  ;  and,  which  is  yet  worse  poor  families 
which  daily  multiply  in  tho  kingdom,  for  want  of  a  duo  order  for 
.their  oiuploymcut  in  an  honest  course  of  life,  whereby  they  may 
gain  subsisteuco  for  them  and  their  children,  do  unavoidably  bring 
U|i  their  children  either  in  a  trade  of  begging  or  stealing,  or  such 
other  idle  course,  w  hieli  again  they  propagate  over  to  their  children ; 
auj  ap  tliore  is  a  successive  multiplication  of  hurtful  or  at  least 


unprofitable  people,  neither  capable  of  discipline  nor  boucficial 
employment.' 

He  further  remarks  that  the  continuance  of  the  evils  ho 
depicted  "must  in  time  prodigiously  increase  and  overgrow 
the  whole  face  of  the  kingdom,  and  eat  out  the  heart  of 
it."  In  lamenting  the  want  of  an  industrious  education 
he  observes  that  "  a  man  that  has  been  bred  up  in  thd 
trade  of  begging  will  never,  unless  compelled,  fall  to 
industry;  and,  on  the  other  side,  it  is  a  wonderful  necessity 
indeed  that  shall  bring  one  bred  up  in  civility  or  industry 
to  beg."  Almost  all  subsequent  schemes  looked  uj)  to 
Hale  as  their  model ;  but  all  either  were  not  accepted  or 
did  not  succeed,  although  in  some  of  tho  legislation  of  tho 
18th  century  imperfect  attempts  seem  to  have  been  mado 
in  this  direction.  Among  other  schemes  Sir  Josiali  Child, 
in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  who  speaks  of  the  poor  in 
England  having  always  been  "in  a  most  sad  and  wretched 
condition,"  proposed  to  abolish  all  settlements  and  receive 
every  poor  person  that  applied  to  incorporated  societies  or 
"fathers  of  the  poor."  John  Gary,  writing  about  1700, 
having  for  the  burden  of  his  tract,  and  the  ciu-e  of  existing 
evils,  to  "provide  work  for  those  who  are  willing,  and  force 
them  to  work  that  are  able,"  makes  some  pithy  remarks. 

.  "  He  that  walks  the  streets  of  London,  and  observes  tho  fatigues 
used  by  tho  beggars  to  make  themselves  seem  objects  of  charity, 
must  conclude  that  they  take  more  pains  than  an  houe.st  man  doth 
at  his  trade,  and  yet  seem  not  to  get  bread  to  eat.  Beggary  is  now 
become  an  art  or  mystery,  to  which  children  aro  brought  up  from 
their  cradles.  Anything  that  may  move  compassion  is  made  a  live- 
lihood, a  sore  leg  or  arm,  or  for  want  thereof  a  pretended  one.  The 
tricks  and  devices  I  have  observed  to  be  used  by  those  peoplo 
have  often  made  me  think  that  thoSc  parts,  if  better  employed, 
might  be  mado  useful  to  the  nation."  "  Licences  for  alehouses  wore 
at  tirst  granted  for  good  ends,  not  to  draw  men  aside  from  their 
labour  by  games  and  sports,  but  to  support  and  refresh  them  under 
it ;  whereas  alehouses  aro  now  encouraged  to  promote  the  ineomo 
of  excise,— not  considering  withal  that  the  labour  of  each  man,  if 
well  employed,  whilst  he  sits  in  an  alehouse,  would  be  worth  much 
more  to  the  nation  than  the  excise  he  pays."  "  Our  laws  to  set  the 
poor  at  work  aro  short  and  defective,  tending  rather  to  maintain 
tliem  so  than' to  give  them  to  a  better  way  of  living.  'Tis  true, 
those  laws  design  well ;  but,  consisting  only  in  generals,  and  not 
reducing  things  to  practicable  methods,  they  fall  short  of  answer- 
ing their  ends,  and  thereby  render  the  poor  more  bold  when  they 
know  the  parisli  officers  are  bound  either  to  provide  them  work 
or  to  give  them  maintenance." 

In  1735  Mr  Hay,  a  member  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
introduced  a  bill,  which,  however,  was  not  passed,  appoint- 
ing guardians  of  a  district,  chosen  by  divers  occupiers  out 
of  a  list  of  persons  qualified  by  estate  in  land,  with  power 
to  purchase  land,  and  build  and  furnish  workhouses,  and 
provide  stock  to  set  the  poor  to  work,  to  be  paid  for  by 
rate, — "  every  person  to  be  deemed  to  be  legally  settled 
where  he  continued  a  year  without  being  chargeable,  and 
if  he  gained  no  such  settlement  then  at  tho  place  of  his 
birth,  and  if  not  born  in  the  kingdom  then  where  ho 
should  happen  to  want  relief," — parochial  settlement  to  bo 
abolished,  and  n  county  settlement  substituted. 

In  1753  bills  Avere  introduced  into  parliament  by  tho 
earl  of  Hillsborough  and  Sir  Richard  Lloyd,  but  neither 
was  passed.  Lord  Hillsborough  proposed  to  rei^yil  all 
existing  Acts,  re-enacting  much,  but  getting  rid  of  tho 
notion  of  settlements  and  removals,  and  establishing  a 
county  board  as  governors  of  the  poor  with  ofticcrs  to 
carry  out  their  bye-laws,  and  hospitals  for  the  impotent 
and  the  aged  and  their  children,  and  for  no  other  kind  of 
poor.  In  tho  same  year  Fielding  jirintcd  A  Proposal  for 
makiiif/  <i)i  efeclual  Provision  for  the  Poor,  for  amendinij 
their  i[orah,  and  for  rendering  them  vsrful  ilemberi  of  the 
Socieli/.  His  plan  embraced  county  houses  of  correction, 
and  places  of  work,  maintenance,  and  punishment,  includ- 
ing a  "  fa.sting  room."  It  may  bo  regarded  as  supple- 
mentary to  schemes  of  tho  same  period.  Although  all  that 
fell  from  this  author  U  worthy  oC  attention,  his  plao  cannot 


i70 


POOR     LAWS 


be  examined  closely  Lere ;  but  what  he  sa;ys  of  the  state  of 
things  at  the  period,  evidently  the  result  of  his  daily 
observations  as  a  magistrate  and  inhabitant  of  Westminster, 
b  too  striking  to  be  passed  over. 

"That  tlic  poor  are  a  very  great  burden  arid  even  a  nuisance 
to  tlie  kiugilom,  that  the  laws  for  relieving  their  distress  and 
restraining  llieir  vices  have  not  answered  their  purposes,  and  that 
tlicy  are  at  jTesent  very  ill  provided  for  and  much  worse  governed 
are  trutlis  which  every  man  will  acknowledge.  Every  person  who 
liath  any  property  must  feel  the  weight  of  that  tax  which  is 
levied  for  the  nse  of  the  poor  ;  and  every  person  who  hath  any 
understanding  must  see  how  absurdly  it -is  applied.  S  >  very  use'- 
less,  indeed,  is  the  heavy  tax,  and  so  wretched  its  disposition,  that 
it  is  a  fjueftion  whether  the  poor  or  lieh  arc  actually  more  dis- 
s.atisfied  ;  since  the  plunder  of  the  one  serves  so  little  to  the  real 
.idvantage  of  the  other.  For  while  a  million  yearly  is  raisedamong 
the  rich  many  of  the  poor  .are  starved  ;  many  more  "languish  in  want 
and  misery  ;  of  the  rest,  numbers  are  found  begging  or  iiilfering  in 
the  streets  to-day,  and  to-morrow  are  li>"''ed  up  in  jails  and  bride- 
wells. If  we  were  to  make  a  progress  through  the  outskirts  of 
the  metropolis,  and  look  into  the  habitations  of  the  ))Oor,  we 
should  there  behold  such  pictures  of  human  misery  as  must  move 
the  compassion  of  every  heart  that  deserves  the  name  of  human. 
What  indeed  must  bolus  composition  who  could  see  whole  families 
in  want  of  every  necessary  of  life,  oppi-essed  with  hunger,  cold, 
jiakedness,  and  tilth,  and  with  diseases  the  certain  consequence  of 
.all  these  !  The  sufferings  indeed  of  the  poor  are  less  known  than 
their  misdeeds  ;  and  therefore  we  are  less  apt  to  pity  thera.  They 
starve,  and  freeze,  and  rot  among  themselves  ;  but  they  beg,  and 
steal,  and  rob  among  their  better^  There  is  not  a  parish  in  the 
iliberty  of  Westminster  which  doth  not  swarm  all  day  with  beggars 
and  all  night  with  thieves." 

The  observations  of  Dr  Burn,  a  name  known  to  every 
one  who  has  considered  the  poor  laws,  whether  as  legislator, 
magistrate,  or  lawyer,  followed  in  1764.  Although  the 
suggestions  and  observations  in  his  History  of  the  Poor 
Laws  are  worthy  of  the  highest  attention  to  any  one  enter- 
ing into  an  historical  retrospect,  it  must  suffice  here  to 
Bay  that  the  result  of  his  experience  and  knowledge  was 
tliat  the  laws  then  in  force  should  "stand  as  to  the  main" 
ibut  be  rectified  on  two  points — begging,  and  the  manage 
|ment  of  the  poor  by  overseers.     Dr  Burn  says  : — 

"  Hut  how  shall  begging  be  restrained  ?  which  by  a  kind  of  pre- 
scriptive claim  hath  so  long  b«en  cccustomed  to  triumph  above 
the  laws  All  sorts  of  severities,  it  appears  have  been  enacted 
against  vagrants  ;  and  yet  they  wander  still,  Nevertheless,  one 
would  hope  the  disease  is  not  past  all  remedy.  If  it  is,  let  os  cease 
the  unequal  contention,  and  submissively  give  np  our  fortunes  to 
the  next  that  comei  with  a  pass,  and  tells  us  a  justice  of  the  peace 
hath  so  ordered  it;  but  let  beggars  and  vagrants  be  doing.  There 
is  one  infallible  way  to  put  an  end  to  all  this,  and  the  easiest  in 
the  world,  which  consists  merely  in  a  non-feasance.  Give  them 
nothing.  If  none  were  to  give,  none  would  beg;  and' the  whole 
mystery  and  craft  would  be  at  an  end  in  a  fortnight.  Let  the  laws 
continue  if  you  please  to  apprehend  and  punish  the  mendicants; 
but  let  something  also  be  done  effectually  against  those  who 
sncourage  them.  If  the  principal  is  punished,  it  is  not  reasonable 
the  accessary  should  go  free.  In  order  to  which,  let  all  who  relieve 
n  common  beggar  be  subject  to  a  penalty." 

As  to  the  other  "fundamental  defect,"  is  Dr. Burn 
5tyles  the  leaving  the  management  of  the  poor  to  overseers, 
the  position  of  overseers  and  their  action  are  so  admirably 
painted,  and  the  description  so  applicable  to  the  mode  I 
sf  administration  down  to  the  reform  of  1834,  that  the 
observations,  written  id  a  happy  strain  of  irony,  must  be 
inserted. 

"  As  to  overseers  of  the  poor,  it  is  ti-ue  the  law  provides  that  thty 
ihall  be  substantial  householders.  But  many  a  man  maybe  a  sub- 
itantial  householder  who  is  not  fit  to  be  an  overseer  of  the  poor, 
4nd  in  fact  the  office  goes  ty  rotation  from  one  householder  t(^,ti 
mother, — some  perhaps  tenants  at  tack  rent,  whose  jeaso  expires 
the  _  next  year,  others  ignorant  and  unexperienced,  others  not 
willing  to  charge  themselves  to  disoblige  their  neighbours;  and 
all  of  them  wanting  to  get  over  the  office  with  as  httle  trouble  to 
themselves  as  possible  ;  and  if  any,  wiser  than  the  rest,  projects 
anything  for  the  common  good  his  office  expires  at  the  end  of  the 
iyear  and  his  labour  is  frustrated,  and  in  practice  the  office  of  an 
overseer  of  the  poor  seems  to  be  understood  to  be  this : — To  keep  an 
Extraordinary  look-out  to  prevent  persons  coming  to  inhabit  with- 
out certificates,  and  to  fly  to  the  justices  to  remove  them  ;  and  if  a 
man  briggaA  certificate  then  to  caution  all  tho  inhabitants  not  to 


let  him  a  farm  of  ilO  a  year,  and  to  take  care  to  keep  him  out  of 
all  parish  offices ;  to  warn  them,  if  tiny  will  hire  servants,  to  hii» 
tliem  half-yearly  or  by  the  month,  by  the  »«Uu  1.7  the  day,  lalhtf 
than  by  any  way  that  shall  give  them  a  scttrement,  or  if  they  do 
hire  them  for  a  year  then  to  endeavour  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  them 
before  the  years  end.  and  s&  la  get  rid  of  them  To  maintain  theil 
poor  as  cheap  as  iK>ssiblj  they  cao  ,  at  all  pvfnts  nut  to  lay  onl 
two-pence  in  prospect  of  .any  future  good,  but  only  to  serve  tho 
prnsent  necessity ;  to  bargain  with  some  sturdy  jicrson  to  take 
tliem  by  the  lump,  who  yet  is  not  intended  to  take  them,  but 
to  hang  over  them  in  (c/rofmif  they  shall  comjdain  to  the  justii-c3 
fur  want  of  maintenance.  To  send  others  out  into  the  country  a 
"begging  {for  why  canuut  they  ri>  as  well  as  others  thcv  will 
mention,  who  are  less  ablo  in  body  ?)  and  the  fecbU-r  they  are  th< 
more  profitable  will  be  their  peregrination  To  bind  out  poor  children 
apprentices,  no  matter  to  whom  or  to  what  trade,  but  to  tike 
es]iecial  care  that  the  master  live  in  another  ]>arish.  To  move 
heaven  and  earth  if  any  dispute  happens  about  a  settlement,  and 
in  that  particular  to  uivert  the  general  rule,  and  stick  at  no 
expense.  To  pull  down  cottages.  To  drive  out  as  many  inh.ibit- 
ants  and  admit  as  few  as  j)ossibly  they  can  ;  that  is,  to  depopulate 
the  parish  in  order  to  lessen  the  jioor  rate.  To  be  generous,  indeed, 
sometimes,  in  giving  a  portion  with  the  mother  of  a  bastard  child 
to  the  reputed  father,  on  the  condition  that  he  will  marry  her  ;  or 
with  a  poor  widow  (for  why  should  she  be  deprived  of  the  comforts 
of  matrimony  ?) — always  provided  that  the  husband  is  settled  else- 
where. Or  if  a  poor  man  with  a  large  family  appears  to  be  industri- 
ous they  will  charitably  assist  him  in  taking  a  farm  in  sonio 
neighbouring  parish,  ami  give  him  £10  to  pay  his  first  year's  rent 
with  ;  and  if  any  of  their  poor  has  a  mercantile  genius  they  will 
purchase  for  him  a  box,  with  pins,  needles,  laces,  buckles,  and 
such  like  wares,  and  send  him  abroad  in  the  quality  of  a  jietty 
chapman,  with  the  profits  whereof,  and  a  moderate  knack  of 
stealing,  he  can  decently  support  himself,  .and  educate  his  children 
in  the  same  industrious  way.  But  to  see  that  the  poor  shall  resort 
to  church,  and  bring  their  children  there  to  be  instructed  ;  to  con 
tract  with  a  master  that  he  shall  procure  his  apprentice  at  proi>er 
times  to  be  taught  to  reail  and  write  ;  to  provide  a  stock  of 
materials  to  set  the  poor  on  work,  to  see  tho  aged  and  impotont 
comfortably  sustained,  the  sick  healed,  and  all  of  them  clotheil 
with  neatness  and  decency, — these  and  such  like  it  is  to  be  fearcj 
are  not  so  generally  regardeU  as  the  laws  intended  and  tho  ncces"- 
sity  of  the  case  requires;-" 

Dr  Bum's  remedy  was  not  to  abolish  overseers  altogether 
but  that,  while  they  or  a  permanent  overseer  should  coilec 
the  rate,  a  general  superintendent  over  a  certain  numbe; 
of  parishes  should  be  appointed  by  the  justices  at  sessiong 
and  the  disposal  of  the  rate  directed  accordingly.  _ 

How  far  the  criticism  and  suggestions  made,  from  thosQ 
of  Sir  Matthew  Halfe  downwards  from  time  to  time,  in 
fluenced  the  legislation  already  indicated  of  the  IStli 
century  and  the  early  part  of  the  19th,  it  is  impracticable 
to  discover.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  evils  grew  apace: 
ratepayers  on  the  one  hand,  the  poor  on  the  other, 
political  economists  and  philanthropists,  magistrates  an( 
jurists,  and  observers  of  every  kind  were  dissatisfied.  Foi 
the  general  state  of  the  poor  in  the  beginning  of  tho  19t} 
century  as  presented  to  the  accurately  observant  eye  an<l 
ear  of  our  English  Juvenal,  we  glean  more  from  liii 
Borough  than  from  a  pile  of  statistics.  Of  the  poor  whe 
were. chargeable  to  the  parish  Crabbe  says : — 

*'  To  ttie  most  we  Rive 
^':veett1y  dote.  anO  at  their  homes  thcj'  li'*c.* 

Of  the  ^vorkhouse  or  house  of  industry,  ihe  paupei 
palace  which  the^  hate  to  see,"  he  speaks-  niournfully 
In  prose  he  wrote  of  the  poor  ivho  "  must  be  coubldercd 
in  every  place  as  a  large  and  interesting  portion  of  its 
inhabitants,"  condemning  the  workhouse  system,  alike  tho 
P8Ugerj)alace  and  the  bouse  rented  for  the  poor     tho 

'  House  that"  holds  the  parish  poor, 
,  Whose  walls  of  mud  scarce  bear  the  broken  door. 

A  closer  examination  of  the  system  of  maintaining  tho, 
poor  than  could  be  obtained  by  casual  visitors,  or  even' 
constant  residents  having  no  special  duty  to  examine  or 
inquire,  showed,  in  full  accord  with  the  public  criticisn. 
already  examined,  and  in  spite  of  it,  that  the  fund  which 
the  famous  statute  of  Elizabeth  directed  to  be  employed 
in  setting  to  work  children  and  per.-sons  capable  of  labour, 
but  using  no. daily_ trade,  and  in  tho  necessary  relief -ol 


i"  (J  ()  a     L  A  w  b 


471 


the  impotctit,  was  by  degrees  applied  to  purposes  opposed 
to  the  letter  and  still  more  to  the  spirit  of  that  law,  and 
destructive  to  the  morals  of  the  most  numerous  class  and 
to  the  welfare  of  all.  The  great  source  of  abuse  was 
the  relief  afforded  out  of  the  workhouse  to  able-bodied 
persons, — a  class  never  intended  by  the  legislation  as  fit 
objects.  The  description  of  relief  was  also  very  objection- 
able. Its  most  usual  form  was  that  of  relieving  the  appli- 
cants either  wholly  or  partially  from  the  expense  of  obtain- 
ing house  room.  Partial  relief  from  that  expense  was 
{jiven  or  professed  to  be  given  by  exempting  the  occupants 
of  a  cottage  or  aiiartmcnt  from  tho^yment  of  rates  on  the 
ground  of  poverty,  and  in  a  greax  number  of  cases  by 
paying  the  rent  out  of  the  parish  fund.  Relief  afforded  in 
money  to  the  able-bodied  on  their  own  account  or  on  that 
of  their  families  was  still  more  prevalent.  This  was  gene- 
rally effected  by  one  of  the  five  following  expedients  : — 
{1)  relief  without  labour,  (2)  the  allowance  system,  (3)  the 
roundsmen  system,  (4)  parish  employment,  (5)  the  labour- 
rate  system.  (1)  The  relief  without  labour  was  by  the  parish 
giving  to  those  who  were  or  who  professed  to  be  without  em- 
ployment a  daily  or  weekly  sum,  without  requiring  from  the 
applicant  any  labour.  (2)  "  Allowance  "  sometimes  com- 
jM-ehended  all  parochial  relief  afforded  to  those  who  were 
employed  by  individuals  at  the  average  rate  of  wage?  of 
the  district,  and  was  sometimes  confined  to  the  relief  which 
a  person  so  employed  obtained  on  account  of  his  children, 
in  that  case  any  relief  obtained  on  his  own  account  being 
termed  "payment  of  wages  out  of  rates."  In  some  places 
a,llowance  was  given  only  occasionally  or  to  meet  occasional 
wants,  for  instance,  to  buy  clothing  or  food  or  to  pay  the 
rent  of  a  cottage  or  apartment.  Sometimes  the  income  of 
the  poor  was  regulated  by  the  name  of  "  scales" — giving  in 
money  the  price  of  bo  many  loaves  of  bread  or  of  a  specific 
measure  of  flour,  according  to  the  number  of  the  family. 
{3)  The  roundsman  (or,  as  it  was  sometimes  termed,  the 
billet,  or  ticket,  or  item)  system  was  the  parish  paying 
the  occupiers  of  property  to  employ  the  applicants  for 
relief  at  a  rate  of  wages  fixed  by  the  parish,  and  depend- 
ing, not  on  the  services,  but  on  the  wants  of  the  ajiplicants, 
the  employer  being  repaid  out  of  the  poor  rate  all  that 
he  advanced  in  wages  beyond  a  certain  sum.  According 
to  this  plan  the  parish  in  general  made  some  agreement 
with  a  farmer  to  sell  to  htm  the  labour  of  one  or  more 
paupers  at  a  certain  price,  paying  to  the  pauper  out  of 
the  parish  funds  the  difference  between  that  price  and  the 
allowance  which  the  scale,  according  to  the  price  of  bread 
and  the  number  of  his  family,  awarded  to  him.  It  received 
the  local  name  of  billot  or  ticket  system  from  the  tickSt 
signed  by  the  overseer  which  the  pauper  in  general  carried 
to  the  farmer  a.s  a  warrant  for  his  being  emplo3'ed,  and 
afterwards  took  back  to  the  overseer,  signed  by  the  farmer, 
as  a  proof  that  he  had  fulfilled  the  conditions  of  relief. 
In  other  cases  the  parish  contracted  with  a  person  to  have 
Bomo  work  performed  for  him  by  the  paupers,  at  a  given 
price,  the  parish  paying  the  paupers.  In  many  places  the 
roundsman  system  was  carried  out  by  means  of  an  auction, 
all  the  unemployed  men  being  i)ut  up  to  sale  periodically, 
sometimes  monthly  or  weekly,  at  prices  varying  according; 
to  the  time  of  year,  tho  old  and  infirm  selling  for  less  than 
the  able-bodied.  (4)  As  for  parish  employment,  although 
work  is  made  by  the  statute  of  Elizabeth  a  condition  pre- 
cedent to  relict  otherwise  than  in  the  ca.se  of  the  impotent, 
and  it  is  a  duty  of  tho  parish  officers' to  provide  it,  pay- 
ment by  them  for  work  was  tho  most  unusual  form  in 
which  relief  wa-s  administered.  Scarcely  more  than  one- 
t\/cntieth  part  of  the  sum  yearly  expended  for  tho  relief 
of  tho  poor  at  tho  period  immediately  preceding  the  inquiry 
tli.at  led  to  the  amendment  of  the  law  in  1834  was  paid  for 
work,  including  work  oa  Uw,  roads  and  in  tho  workhouses 


Thi»  was  easily  accounted  for  *'  by  many  causes,  including 
the  trouble  and  difficulty  attendant  upon  superintendence 
on  the  part  of  parish  officers."  (5)  An  agreement  among 
the  ratepayers  that  each  of  them  should  employ  and  pay 
out  of  his  own  money  a  certain  number  of  the  labourers 
settled  in  the  parish,  in  proportion  not  to  his  real  demand 
for  labour  but  to  his  rental  or  to  his  contribution  to  the 
rates,  or  to  the  number  of  horses  that  he  kept  for  tillage, 
or  to  the  number  of  acres  that  he  occupied,  or  to  some 
other  fixed  standard,  has  been  denominated  the  labour-rate 
system.  This  system  was  generally  enforced  by  an  addi- 
tional voluntiiry  rate  on  those  who  did  not  employ  their 
full  proportion. 

As  .illustrating  the  difficulties  attendant  upon  providing 
for  the  poor,  a  temporary  Act  passed  in  1832,  which  has 
disappeared  from  the  statute  book  (as  founded  on  vicious 
notions),  may  be  noticed,  applying  to  parishes  where  the 
poor  rates  exceeded  5d.  in  the  pound.  It  recited  that, 
notwithstanding  the  many  laws  in  force  for  tho  relief 
and  employment  of  the  poor,  many  able-bodied  labourers 
are  frequently  entirely  destitute  of  work  or  unprofitably 
employed,  and  in  many  instances  receive  insufficient 
allowance  for  their  support  from  the  poor  rates,  and  "  the 
mode  of  providing  employment  for  the  poor  which  may  be 
expedient  in  some  parishes  may  be  inexjredient  in  others, 
and  it  may  therefore  be  desirable  to  extend  the  powers  of 
parish  vestries  in  order  that  such  a  course  may  bo  purfeued 
as  may  be  best  adapted  to  the  peculiar  circumstances  of 
each  parish,"  and  enabled  vestries  (without  interfering 
with  Gilbert's  Act),  with  the  approval  of  justices  at  petty 
sessions,  to  make  special  agreements  solely  for  the  pur- 
pose of  emplpying  or  relieving  the  poor  of  the  parisL 

The  following  table  exhibits  the  growth  of  the  jioor  rate  Rrotrtk 
from  tho  middle  of  the  last  century  to  a  date  immediately  t''*  poor* 
preceding  the  reforms  effected  in  1834: — • 


tat«. 


Te&rB. 

Estimated  Popnlatlon 

Expended  on  the 

Per  Head  of 

of  England  and  Wales. 

EcUef  of  tlio  Poor. 

the  Population. 

£ 

a.    d. 

1750 

6,467,000 

689,000 

2     2 

1760 

6,734,000 

965,000 

8     0 

1770 

7,428,000 

1,806,000 

3     6 

1780 

7,953,000 

1,774,000 

4     S 

1790 

8,675,000 

2,567,000 

6  11 

1800 

9,140,000 

3,861,000 

8     6 

1810 

10,370,000 

5,407,000 

10     3 

1818 

11,702,000 

7,890,000 

13     4 

1820 

12,046,000 

7,329,000 

12     2 

18S0 

13,924,000 

6,829,000 

9     9 

1832 

14,372,000 

7,030,000 

9     9 

It  will  be  observed  that  subsequent  to  1818  there  was- 
an  apparent  diminution  in  tho  whole  Sum  expended  for 
the  relief  of  tho  poor,  making  a  difi"erenco  of  between  1 1 
and  12  per  cent.;  but  tho  decline  in  the  prices  of  tli( 
necessaries  of  life  (wheat  alone  had  fallen  considerably, — 
more  than  one-half  in  one  of  tho  intermediate  years)  wot 
more  than  equivalent  to  tho  difference. 

The  conviction,  arising  principally  from  the  increase  of 
the  poor  rates,  that  a  change  was  necessary  either  in  tb  - 
poor  law  as  it  then  existed  or  in  the  mode  of  its  adminis'iU- 
tion  led  to  the  issuing  of  a  commission  in  1832  "  to  niako 
diligent  and  full  inquiry  into  tho  practical  operation  of  the 
laws  for  the  relief  of  tho  poor  in  Englaiid  and  Wales,  ano 
into  tho  manner  in  which  those  laws  were  administered, 
and  to  report  their  opinion  as  to  what  beneficial  altera- 
tions could  be  made."  Thd  result  of  this  inquiry  was  laid 
before  parliament  in  1834.  The  commissioners  reported 
"fully  on  tho  great  abuse  of  tho  legislative  provision  for 
the  jioor  as  directed  to  be  enijiloyed  by  the  statute  of 
Elizabeth,"  finding  "that  tho  preat  .source  of  abuse  was 
tl>o  outdoor  relief  alTordcd  to  the  able-bodied  on  their owa 


472 


POOR     LAWS 


forma- 
tion of 
districts 


account  or  on  that  of  tlieir  families,  given  either  in  kind  or 
in  money."  They  also  reported  that  "  great  maladminis- 
tration existed  in  the  •workhouses."  To  remedy  the  evils 
they  proposed  considerable  alterations  in  the  law,  and  the 
principal  portion  of  their  suggestions  was  embodied  in  the 
Poor-Law  Amendment  Act,  1834  (4  &  5  Will.  IV.  c.  76). 

The  Act  was  based  on  the  principle  that  no  one  should 
be  suffered  to  perish  through  the  want  of  what  is  necessary 
for  sustaining  life,  but  at  the  same  time  that  if  supported 
at  the  expense  of  the  public  he  must  be  content  to  receive 
Buch  support  on  the  terms  most  consistent  with  the  public 
welfare ;  and  the  objects  of  the  Act  were  first  to  raise  the 
labouring  classes,  that  is  to  say,  the  bulk  of  the  commun- 
ity, from  the  idleness,  improvidence,  and  degradation  into 
which  the  maladministration  of  the  laws  for  their  relief 
had  thrown  them,  and,  secondly,  to  immediately  arrest 
the  progress  and  ultimately  to  diminish  the  amount  of  the 
pressure  on  the  owners  of  lands  and  houses. 

Under  the  Act  three  commissioners  were  appointed 
(originally  for  five  years,  but  subsequently  continued  from 
time  to  time)  styled  "  the  Poor-Law  Commissioners  for 
England  and  Wales,"  sitting  as  a  board,  and  appointing 
assistant  commissioners  and  other  officers.  The  adminis- 
tration of  relief  according  to  the  existing  laws  was  sub- 
ject to  their  direction  aud  control,  and  to  their  orders  and 
regulations  for  the  government  of  workhouses  and  the 
guidance  and  control  of  guardians  and  v^estries  and  the 
keeping  and  allowing  of  accounts  and  contracts,  without 
interfering  with  ordinary  relief  in  individial  cases. 

The  favourable  state  of  the  country  at;  the  time  present- 
ing many  facilities  for  the  introduction  of  the  law,  which  it 
mdpoor-  was  important  to  render  available  with  as  little  delay  as 
udons.  •  possible,  the  whole  of  England  and  Wales  was  divided 
into  twenty-one  districts,  to  each  of  which  an  assistant 
commissioner  was  appointed.  The  commissioners  under 
their  powers  (gradually  put  into  operation — a  circumstance 
which  beneficially  affected  legislation  of  the  period,  as,  for 
example,  the  commutation  of  tithes  and  the  introduction 
of  police)  formed  poor-law  unions  by  uniting  parishes  for 
general  administration,  aud  building  woikhouses,  guardians 
elected  by  the  ratepayers  (or  ex  vjjicio)  having  the  general 
government  and  administration  of  relief.  The  expense  was 
apportioned  to  each  parish  on  settled  principles  and  rules, 
with  power,  however,  to  treat  the  united  parishes  as  one 
for  certain  purposes.  Outdoor  relief  might  be  given,  on 
the  order  of  two  justices,  to  poor  persons  wholly  unable  to 
work  from  old  age  or  infirmity.  No  rule  appears  to  have 
been  more  fully  sanctioned  by  practical  results  as  of  an 
advantageous  nature  than  that  under  which  the  coantry 
was  by  degrees  parcelled  out  into  unions.  In  parishes  no 
adequate  power  existed  for  cairying  into  effect  the  rules 
and  regulations  of  the  amended  system.  No  principle  of 
classification  could  be  adopted  within  the  workhouses,  and 
the  law  was  liable  to  be  thwarted  in  its  most  material 
objects  by  petty  interests  of  a  local  and  personal  character. 
With  the  aid  of  boards  of  guardians  and  their  subordinate 
officers  these  interests  were  neutralized,  and  the  law  was 
rendered  uniform  in  its  operation.  The  economical  advan- 
tages derived  from  acting  on  an  enlarged  scale  are  self- 
evident.  Waste  unavoidably  takes  place  when  the  purchase 
of  supplies  for  a  single  parish  forms  a  separate  transaction. 

The  second  report  of  the  commissioners  showed  that  of 
one  hundred  and  ten  unions  which  had  been  in  operation 
more  than  a  year,  the  saving  in  forty-three  of  the  largest 
was  46  per  cent. ;  in  twenty-four  of  the  smaUest  unions 
the  rate  of  saving  was  not  more  than  29  per  cent.;  and 
in  twenty-six  unions  of  intermediate  size  a  saving  of  42 
per  cent,  was  effected.  Even  in  many  parishes  not  then 
included  in  a  union  the  wide  promulgation  of  the  jirin- 
Ciplas  of  the  amending  Act  gave  an  impulse  to  improve- 


ment in  the  administration  of  the  poor  laws,  which   was 
attended  by  a  marked  reduction  in  the  expeuditura 

The  total  amount  of  money  expended  in  the  relief  of 
the  poor  in  England  and  Wales  during  the  twelve  years 
prior  to  the  passing  of  the  Poor-Law  Amendment  Act{1823 
to  1834)  amounted  to  upwards  of  £76,096,000,  and  during 
the  twelve  subsequent  years  to  less  than  £57,247,000. 
As  the  commissioners  early  remarked — 

"  It  eoulJ  not  be  expected  that  an  Act  which  so  materially  dis- 
turbed the  distribution  of  as  large  a  sum  of  money  as  £7,000,000 
]>er  annum,  which  of  necessity  changed  the  source  from  which  s 
large  portion  of  the  iii^bitants  of  the  country  derived  theii 
customary  means  of  sub^tence,  and  which  in  so  doing  opposoO 
itself  not  only  to  the  Interests,  the  prejudices,  and  the  fears  of  a 
large  portion  of  the  population,  but  pressed  hardly  on  the  sincere 
though  mistaken  notions  of  charity  which  were  established  in  the 
hearts  of  others,  could  possibly  be  carried  into  effect  without 
difficulty  and  resistance. 

The  obstacles  which  the  Act  had  to  contend  with  in  the 
metropolis  chiefly  arose  from  the  confusion  and  perplexity 
of  jurisdiction  which  existed  in  the  one  hundred  and 
seventy  parishes  comprised  within  the  city  of  London  and 
the  metropolitan  district,  some  of  these  containing  govern- 
ing bodies  of  their  own ;  in  some  the  parish  business  was 
professedly  managed  by  open  vestries,  in  others  by  select 
vestries,  and  in  addition  to  these  there  were  elective 
vestries,  under  Sturges  Bourne's  Act,  Sir  John  Hobhouse's 
Act,  and  other  Acts ;  and  the  majority  of  the  large 
parishes  were  managed  under  local  Acts  by  boards  of 
directors,  governors,  and  trustees.  These  governing  bodies 
executed  a  great  variety  of  functions  besides  regulating 
the  management  of  the  poor.  The  power,  patronage,  and 
the  indirect  advantages  which  arose  from  the  administra- 
tion of  the  local  funds  were  so  great  that  much  opposition 
took  place  when  it  was  proposed  to  interfere  by  constitut- 
ing a  board  to  be  annually  chosen  and  freely  elected  by  the 
ratepayers,  on  which  the  duty  of  regulating  the  expendi- 
ture for  the  relief  of  the  poor  was  to  depend.  The  general 
management  of  the  poor  was,  however,  on  a  somewhat 
better  footing  in  London  than  in  the  country. 

Some  opposition  was  experienced  to  the  introduction  of 
the  full  benefits  of  the  Act  into  the  unions  incorporated 
under  Gilbert's  Act,  many  provisions  of  which  conflicted 
with  the  new  system.  On  the  early  dissolution  of  seven- 
teen of  those  incorporations  by  the  commissioners  under 
their  powers,  it  was  found,  Jiowever,  that  the  rates  were 
sensibly  diminished.  Much  resistance  of  a  general  nature 
was  encountered.  Not  only  was  the  economical  working 
of  the  new  principles  of  management  disputed,  but  a  strong 
feeling  was  aroused  against  what  was  thought  to  be  the 
inhumanity  of  the  rigorous  rules  to  which  paupers  had  to 
submit  in  workhouses.  AVhile  many  proofs  existed  of  the 
necessity  for  the  introduction  of  a  new  system — such  as 
that,  while  wheat  was  rotting  in  pauperized  and  as  yet 
unreformed  districts  of  the  south  of  England  for  want  of 
reapers  at  21s.  and  24s.  an  acre,  at  the  very  same  time 
able-bodied  healthy  men  were  lying  under  the  hedges  in 
another  part  of  the  same  county  vrith  a  parish  allowanc-e  of 
3s.  a  week — on  the  other  hand,  it  was  f  It  as  a  grievance 
that  old  couples  were  refused  relief  at  their  own  houses, 
and  that  if  they  entered  the  workhouse  the  sexes  were 
separated.  Throughout  the  country  the  reproachful  name 
of  "  Bastille  "  was  attached  to  the  workhouse,  and  this  is 
in  many  districts  still  retained,  though  no  longer  as  an 
ihtended  censure.  In  part  of  Devonshire  prejudice  was 
carried  to  the  extent  of  a  rumour  leading  poor  persons  to 
believe  that  the  bread  distributed  by  the  relieving  oiBcers 
was  mixed  with  poisonous  ingredients. 

Both  Houses  of  Parliament  were  inundated  for  years 
with  petitions  against  the  new  system ;  meetings  were 
held  at  which  inflammatory  language  was  used;  and  in 


The  ti«» 

tTOlK.h 


i 


The  old 
system 
and  tli> 
new. 


POOR      LA   V!  a 


t73 


some  instances  riotous  proceedings  marked  the  opposition. 
It  was  remarked  tbat  the  acts  of  violence  were  in  the  most 
pauperized  districts,  which  had  been  conspicuous  for  the 
maladministration  of  the  poor  rates.  The  work,  however, 
went  forward,  although  three  parliamentary  committees 
(one  of  the  Lords  and  two  of  the  Commons)  instituted  a 
searching  and  severe  scrutiny  before  the  organization  of 
the  system  was  completed.  Notwithstanding  adverse  cir- 
cumstances, including  stagnation  of  trade,  cold  weather, 
and  an  epidemic  of  great  severity,  by  the  end  of  1837 
nearly  the  whole  of  England  had  been  formed  into  unions ; 
llie  benefits  of  the  new  system  were  gradually  recognized, 
;rnd  a  poor  law  was  introduced  into  Ireland  (see  Ireland). 
As  to  poor-law  administration  in  Scotland  see  Scotland. 

The  reform  of  the  poor  laws  affected  a  variety  of 
persons  besides  paupers  and  ratepayers.  No  question 
was  more  widely  discussed  than  that  of  medical  attendance 
on  the  sick  poor.  The  outdoor  relief  of  the  sick  was 
asnally  effected  by  a  contract  with  a  surgeon,  which,  how- 
ever, in  general  only  included  those  who  were  parishioners. 
VVhen  non-parishioners  became  chargeable  from  illness,  an 
order  for  their  removal  to  their  place  of  settlement  was 
obtained,  which  was  suspended  until  they  could  perform 
the  journey  ;  in  the  -meantime  they  were  attended  by  the 
local  surgeon,  but  at  the  expense  of  the  parish  to  which 
they  belonged.  The  poor-law  commissioners  in  their 
report  of  1834  stated  that  on  the  whole  medical  attend- 
ance seemed  in  general  to  be  adequately  supplied  and 
economically,  considering  only  the  price  and  the  amount 
j£  attendance.  •  Great  good  was  effected  by  the  cstablish- 
toent  of  dispensaries  promoted  by  Mr  Smith  of  Southam 
to  enable  the  labouring  classes  to  defray,  from  their  own 
resources,  the  expense  of  medical  treatment  While  stat- 
ing that  the  country  was  much  indebted  to  him  for  his 
exertions,  the  commissioners  were  not  prepared  to  suggest 
any  legislative  measures  for  their  encouragement ;  but  dis- 
pensaries have  been  recently  applied  to  the  relief  of  the 
poor  in  the  metropolis.  The  medical  and  surgical  asso- 
ciation (now  the  British  Medical  Association),  of  which 
Sir  Charles  Hastings  was  president,  took  up  the  sub- 
ject, and  a  committee,  over  which  Dr  Davis  (of  Presteign) 
presided,  made  an  inquiry  and  report,^by  no  means  in 
hostility  to,  but  in  full  accord  with,  the  chiefs  of  the  new 
poor-law  administration.  The  present  mode  of  giving 
medical  relief  is  noticed  below. 

After  an  intermediate  transfer  in  18-17  of  the  powers  of 
the  poor-law  commissioners,  and  the  constitution  of  a  fresh 
board  styled  "  commissioners'  for  administering  the  laws 
for  relief  of  the  poor  in  England,"  it  was  found  expedient 
to  concentrate  in  one  department  of  the  Government  the 
supervision  of  the  laws  relating  to  the  public  health,  the 
relief  of  the  poor,  and  local  government ;  and  this  concen- 
tration was  in  1871  carried  out  by  the  establishment  (by 
Act  of  Parliament  34  A-  35  Vict.-  c.  70)  of  the  Local  Govern- 
ment Board. 

In  the  subsequent  part  of  this  article  tho  governing 
board,  whether  the  original  jjoor-law  commissioners  or 
commissioners  for  administering  the  laws  for  relief  of  the 
poor,  or  the  present  local  government  board,  is  spoken  of 
as  the  central  board,  as  tho  orders  at  present  in  force  are 
of  variou.s  dates,  and  chiefly  issued  before  the  existence  oj 
the  present  local  government  board. 

By  numerous  Acts  of  Parliament  passed  subsequent  to 
the  Amendment  Act  of  1834  the  administration  of  relfej 
has  been  affected  in  various  ways.  It  would  be  an  unpro- 
fitable task,  and  inconsistent  with  tho  objects  and  limit 
of  this  article,  to  give  a  chronological  summary  of  those 
Acts  down  to  the  present  time,  but  they  are  taken  into 
sccDunt  in  treating  of  various  heads  of  jioor-law  adminis- 
tration. 

1 '.)— 1  «• 


It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  relief  of  the  poor  of  every 
union  governed  by  a  local  Act  is  administered  by  a  board 
of. guardians  elected  according  to  the  Pcor-Law  Acts. 
'  Although  containing  very  important  provisions,  tho  Act 
of  1834  was  rather  to  restore  the  scope  and  intention  of 
the  statute  of  Elizabeth  by  placing  its  administration  in  tho 
hands  of  responsible  persons  chosen  by  the  ratepayers,  and 
themselves  controlled  by  the  orders  of  a  central  body,  than 
to  create  a  new  system  of  poor  laws. 

Thcngents  and  instruments  by  which  tlic  administration  of  relief 
is  afforded  are  the  following. 

Tlie  guardians  of  the  poor  regulate  the  cases  and  descriiitiou  ol 
relief  within  the  union  :  a  certain  number  of  guardians  are  elected 
from  time  to  time  by  tlie  ratepayers.  The  number  is  determined 
by  the  central  board,  by  whom  full  directions  as  to  the  mode  of 
election  are  given.  In  addition  to  those  elected  there  are  ex  officio 
guardians,  principally  local  magistrates.  The  guardians  hold  their 
meetings  frequently,  according  to  the  exigencies  of  the  union.  Indi- 
vidual cases  are  brought  to  their  notice, — most  eases  of  i-csideiit 
poor  by  the  relieving  officer  of  tho  union,  the  case  of  casual  paupers 
by  him  or  by  the  workhouse  ofliccrs  by  whom  they  were  admitted 
in  the  fiist  instance.  Tlie  resident  poor  frequently  appear  in  person 
before  the  guardians.  The  mode  of  voting  which  the  guardians  fol- 
low in  respect  to  any  matter  they  difier  on  is  minutely  regulated, 
and  all  their  proceedings  as  well  as  those  of  their  officers  are  entered 
in  prescribed  books  and  forms.  They  have  a  clerk,  generally  a  local 
solicitor  of  experience,  who  has  a  variety  of  responsible  duties  in 
advising,  conducting  correspondence  and  keeping  books  of  accounts, 
and  carrying  out  the  directions  of  the  guardians,  who  in  their  turn 
are  subject  to  the  general  or  special  regulations  of  the  central  board. 
The  various  officers  of  the  union  from  the  medical  officer  to  work- 
house porters,  including  masters  and  matrons  of  workhouses,  are 
generally  appointed  by  tho  guardians  ;  and  the  duties  of  all  tho 
officers  are  specifically  prescribed  by  the  regulations  issued  by  tho 
central  board. 

Among  a  multitude  of  miscellaneous  duties  and  powers  of  the 
guardians,  apart  from  the  ordinary  duties  of  ordering  or  refusing 
relief  in  individual  cases  and  superintending  the  officers  of  the 
union,  tho  duties  devolve  on  them  of  considering  the  adjustment 
of  contributions  to  the  common  fund  whether  of  divided  or  added 
parishes,  and  matters  affecting  other  unions,  the  building  of  work- 
houses and  raising  of  money  for  that  and  other  purposes,  the  taking 
of  land  on  lease,  the  hiring  of  Buildings,  special  provisions  as  to 
superannuation  and  allowances  to  officers,  tho  maintenance  and 
orders  as  to  lunatics  apart  fioni  individual  instances,  and  tho  con- 
sideration of  questions  of  settlement  and  removal.  A  paramount 
obligation  rests  on  tho  guardians  to  attend  to  the  actual  visitation 
of  workhouses,  schools,  and  other  institutions  and  places  in  which 
the  poor  are  interested,  and  to  call  attention  to  and  report  on  any 
irregularity  or  neglect  of  duty.  Guardiails  may  charge  tho  rates 
with  the  expenses  of  attending  conferences  for  the  discussion  of 
matters  connected  with  their  duties  (Poor-Law  Conferences  Act, 
1883).  In  relation  to  expenditure  tho  guardians  have  very  con- 
siderable but  restricted  powers.  Among  other  olliccrs  they  aj)-' 
point  a  treasurer  for  tho  union. 

Overseers  of  the  poor  arc   still  appointed  under  tlio  slatulc  ofOvef 
Elizabeth,  and  tlio  guardians  cannot  interfere  with  tho  a|ipoint-  sccsn 
ment.     As,  however,  tho  relief  of  the  poor  is  now  administered  by 
lioards  of  guardians,  the  principal  duties  of  overseers  relate  to  the 
making  and  collecting  of  rates  and  payments.     The  guardians,  liy 
order  of  the  central  board,  may  appoint  assistant  overseers  and 
collectors.     Inspectors  appointed  by  the  central  authorily  assist  in  fns|>e$> 
the  execution  of  tho  poor  laws  by  periodically  visiting  and  inspect-  tors.', 
iiig  every  workhouse  and  place  wherein  any  poor  person  in  recei|il 
of  relief  is  lodged,  attending  meetings  of  boards  of  guardians  and 
every  local  meeting  at  which  general  questions  may  bo  raised  or 
discussed,  and  taking  part  in  meetings  but  not  voting  at  them.     Tlnj 
inspectors  have  great  jiowers  iu  calling  bcfnrc  them  and  examiiiiiii; 
persons  and  hooks  ami  proceedings,     liesidcs  llic  usual  in-siKilnr.-;. 
persons  may  l.c  appointed  by  the  central  authority  to  act  in  coir, 
ducting  special  inquiries. 

'    Provisions  relating  to  expenditure  and  the  audit  of  accounts  otq 
noticed  in  a  subsequent  part  of  this  article 

Soma  princijiles  connected  with  the  system  of  poor-law 
edministratioti  call  for  concise  notice. 

As  the  right  to  relief  exists,  tho  law  recognizes  the 
dbligaiton  to  afford  it  to  persons  unable  to  maintain  them- 
selves, Tho  refusal  of  the  officers  whoso  duty  it  is  to  give 
it  is-  an  indictable  offence ;  and,  although  a  nican.s  of 
punishment  docs  riot  constitute  a  remedy,  it  .--tcins  a 
mandamus  to,  guardians  of  the  jioor  will,  in  extreme  and 
cceptional. cases,  bo  granted.  ^  The  liability  to  .suuuiiary 


^74 


POOR     L  A  W  S 


proceedings  now,  however,  operates  as  a  preventive  to 
neglect  of  duty.  If,  by  reason  of  the  neglect  of  overseers 
to  collect  rates  or  to  pay  the  guardians  of  the  poor,  any 
relief  directed  by  the  guardians  to  be  given  to  any  poor 
person  is  delayed  or  withheld,  or  if  overseers  disobey  a 
Justice's  order  to  give  temporary  relief,  or  if  any  officer 
wilfully  neglects  or  disobeys  the  orders  of  the  central 
board,  penalties  are  incurred.  The  control  of  the  central 
board  is,  except  in  very  rare  cases,  found  effective  to 
secure  the  due  administration  of  the  law. 

The  recognition  of  the  right  to  relief  as  a  legal  claim 
3iUows  and  indeed  necessitates  the  imposition  of  restraints, 
apart  from  provisions  connected  with  the  law  of  settlement 
and  removal,  more  fully  noticed  hereafter.  Persons,  how- 
f.ver  poor,  wandering  abroad  to  beg  or  gather  alms,  or 
placing  themselves  in  any  public  place  for  that  purpose, 
become  subject  to  the  vagrancy  laws. 

Private  relief,  pecuniary  or  otherwise,  may  be  asked  for 
and  obtained  so  long  as  it  does  not  involve  any  false 
pretence  or  dishonest  or  prohibited  means  of  gaining  a 
livelihood.  Any  person  able  by  work  or  other  means  to 
maintain  himself  or  his  family,  who,  by  wilful  refusal  or 
neglect  to  do  so,  becomes  chargeable  for  any  part  of  his 
family,  commits  an  offence.  Poverty  or  idleness  short  of 
this,  and  apart  from  the  case  of  liability  in  respect  of 
children  under  elementary  and  industrial  school  Acts,  is 
not  an  offence  against  the  law. 
Obliga-  There   are  circumstances,  however,  where  relative  lia- 

tJon  to       bilities  make  it  a  duty  for  persons  to  avail  themselves  of 

wialfp    lis© 

of  public  the  public  provision  for  relief.  The  culpable  neglect  of 
proTisioa.  ^  person  to  provide  another  under  his  control  and  in  his 
legal  custody,  who  is  actually  helpless,  as  an  infant  or 
lunatic,  with  the  means  of  life  constitutes  a  crime,  and  by 
the  express  provision  of  a  poor-law  Act  any  parent  wilfully 
neglecting  to  provide  adequate  food,  clothing,  medical  aid, 
or  lodgings  for  his  child,  being  in  his  custody  under  the 
age  of  fourteen,  whereby  the  health  of  such  child  is  or  is 
likely  to  be  seriously  injured,  may  be  summarily  convicted 
(31  &  32  Vict.  c.  122),  in  analogy  to  the  law  making  it 
an  indictable  misdemeanour  for  a  master  or  mistress  who 
is  legally  liable  to  provide  any  apprentice  or  servant  with 
necessary  food,  clothing,  or  lodging,  wilfully  and  without 
lawful  excuse  to  refuse  or  neglect  so  to  provide  (24  &  25 
Vict.  c.  100).  Something  more  than  the  mere  abstention 
from  seeking  parochial  relief  without  any  intentional 
•neglect  is  necessary  to  lay  a  criminal  as  distinguished  from 
a  moral  responsibility  on  destitute  persons. 

Although  under  the  vagrancy  laws  public  begging  is  an 
offence,  the  giver  of  such  unlawful  charity  is  not  subject 
to  legal  restraint.  In  early  times  attempts  were  made  to 
impose  such  restraints.  AJn  Act  of  1349  (23  Edw.  111.  c. 
7)  provided  that  none  on  pain  of  imprisonment  should 
under  colour  of  piety  or  alms  give  anything  to  a  beggar 
who  was  able  to  labour,  and  nearly  two  centuries  later  an 
Act  (22  Hen.  VIII.  c.  12)  already  noticed,  relating  to 
poor  compelled  to  live  by  alms,  and  the  punishment  of 
vagabonds  and  beggars,  provided  that  any  person  giving 
any  harbour,  money,  or  lodgings  to  any  strong  beggar  who 
violated  the  statute  should  make  such  fine  to  the  king  as 
the  justices  in  sessions  should  appoint ;  and  as  late  as  the 
commencement  of  the  17th  century  givers  to  beggars  were 
subject  to  a  penalty  (1  Jas.  I.  c.  7).  These  Acts,  however, 
eventually  disappeared  from  the  statute  book. 

Dr  Burn  advocated,  as  has  been  seen,  the  infliction  of  a 
penalty  for  relieving  a  common  beggar;  btit,  although 
aiders  and  abettors  in  the  commission  of.  even  petty 
offences  are  now  punishable,  it  is  not  attempted  to  apply 
the  law  to  bestowers  of  charity,  whether  in  the  streets  and 
highways  or  elsewhere. 

It  is  in  vain  to  impose  the  doctrines  of  political  economy 


in  restraint  of  natural  instincts.  Such  doctrines  are 
scattered  as  chaff  before  the  wind  when  opposed  by  the 
teachings  of  the  nursery  rhymes  of  "  The  Beggar's 
Petition,"  or  to  the  fascinating  description  where  the 
beggar  figures  as  "  a  well-remembered  guest,"  or  to  the 
sympathy  enlisted  by  Charles  Lamb's  essay  "  A  Complaint 
of  the  decay  of  Beggars  in  the  iletropolis. " 

Although  in  most  cases  the  relief  given  to  the  poor  is 
practically  a  gift,  and  does  not  constitute  an  available 
debt,  the  plan  of  giving  relief  by  way  of  advance  as  a  loan 
was  introduced  early  in  the  present  century,  and  the  Poor- 
Law  Amendment  Act  (1834)  enacted  that  any  relief,  or 
the  cost  thereof,  which  shaU  be  given  to  or  on  account  of 
any  poor  person  above  the  age  of  twenty-one  or  to  his  wife 
or  any  part  of  his  family  under  the  age  of  sixteen,  and 
which  the  said  commissioners  shall  by  any  rule,  order,  or 
regulation  declare  or  direct  to  be  given  or  considered  as 
given  by  way  of  loan,  and  whether  any  receipt  for  such 
relief,  or  engagement  to  pay  the  same,  or  the  cost  price 
thereof,  or  any  part  thereof,  shall  have  been  given  or  not 
by  that  person  to  or  on  account  of  whom  the  same  shall 
have  been  so  given,  shall  be  considered,  and  the  same  i.s- 
hereby  declared  to  be,  a  loan  to  such  poor  person  (4  &  5 
Will.  IV.  c.  76,  §  58).  By  the  same  Act  power  was  given 
to  enforce  payment  by  means  of  a  summons  before  justices 
to  attach  wages.  A  subsequent  statute  gives  power  to  the 
guardians  to  recover  loans  to  paupers  in  the  county  court 
(11  ife  12  Vict.  c.  110).  By  order  of  the  central  board, 
guardians  may,  in  the  cases  within  the  provision  of  the 
Poor-Law  Amendment  Act  above  set  out,  give  relief  by 
way  of  loan,  but  no  relief  contrary  to  the  regulations  can 
be  given- in  this  way.  The  restriction  -was  necessary,  as 
formerly  some  guardians  granted  outdoor  relief  by  way  of 
loan  contrary  to  the  recent  principles  of  administration  of 
relief. 

The  criminal  liability  of  parents  and  others  tre  loa 
parentis  to  provide  sustenance  has  been  considered.  The 
purely  civil  liability  for  necessaries  under  implied  cor.v 
tracts  is  of  course  outside  the  scope  of  this  article,  but 
there  is  an  express  liability  created  by  the  poor  laws. 
The  liability  of  the  father  and  grandfather  and  the  mother 
and  grandmother  and  the  children  of  poor  persons  undei 
the  statute  of  Elizabeth  has  been  set  out  in  an  earlier  part 
of  this  article.  The  statute  extends  only  to  natural 
relations.  The  liability  is  enforced  by  orders  of  magis- 
trates after  chargeabibty,  who  adjudicate  as  to  the  amount 
after  hearing  the  facts  and  taking  into  consideration  the 
ability  of  the  relative.  The  relief  of  actual  destitution 
should  always  precede  investigation  as  to  the  liability  of 
other  persons  than  the  parish  to  contribute  to  it.  Indeed 
actual  chargeability  to  the  union  is  in  general  a  condition 
precedent  to  an  order  upon  the  relative. 

In  treating  of  the  persons  entitled  to  relief  it  may  be 
mentioned  that,  in  accordance  with  the  general  law,  a  wife 
is  to  be  treated  as  one  with  her  husband  who  is  compel- 
lable to  maintain  her ;  and,  as  on  the  one  hand  the  wife  is 
entitled  under  ordinary  circumstances  to  relief  equally 
with  the  husband,  the  latter  is  the  person  to  apply  for  and 
to  receive  relief. 

With  respect  to  children,  they  form  part  of  the  father** 
family  until  they  become  "  emancipated."  During  the 
minority  of  a  child  there  can  be  no  emancipation,  unless 
he  marries  and  so  becomes  himself  the  head  of  a  family, 
or  contracts  some  other  relation  so  as  wholly  and  per- 
manently to  exclude  the  parental  control. 

By  the  amendment  of  the  poor  laws  in  1834  all  relief 
given  to  or  on  account  of  the  wife,  or  children  under 
sixteen,  not  being  blind  or  deaf  and  dumb,  is  considered 
as  given  to  the  husband  or  father  as  the  case  may  be ; 
and  any   relief  given   to  children  under  that  age  of  a 


POOR     ,L  A.  W  S 


475 


widow  is  considered  as  given  to  her  (4  &  6  Will.  IV.  c. 
76,  §  56)  ;  but  this  provision  does  not  interfere  with  the 
liability  imposed  by  the  statute  of  Elizabeth.  Further  a 
man  marrying  a  woman  having  legitimate  or  illegitimate 
children  is  liable  to  maintain  them  as  part  of  his  family, 
and  is  chargeable  with  all  relief  on  their  account  until 
they  attain  sixteen  or  until  the  death  of  the  mother  (ibid., 
§  57).  A  married  woman  having  separate  property  is 
liable  for  the  maintenance  of  her  husband  and  children 
on  their  becoming  chargeable  (45  &  U6  Vict  c.  75). 

rhe  position  of  illegitimate  children  and  their  jparents  stands  on 
a  diatinct  foundation.  By  a  statute  of  1576  (18  Eliz.  c.  3)  justices 
were  empowered  at  discretion  to  charge  the  mother  and  reputed 
father  of  bastards  with  their  maintenance  on  the  pain  of  imprison- 
ment in  default.  The  principle  of  this  statute,  renewed  and  not 
expressly  repealed  until  recently,  is  carried  out  now,  after  receiving 
repeated  attention,  especially  on  the  great  reform  of  the  poor  laws 
and  administration  of  relief  in  1834,  by  an  order  of  maintenance  on 
the  reputed  father,  at  the  instance  of  the  mother,  or  where  the 
child  is  actnally  chargeable  to  a  union  or  parish  at  the  instance  of 
the  guardians.  Such  order  is  in  force  until  the  child  is  thirteen, 
and  in  some  instances  until  sixteen.  The  main  features  of  the 
Acts  are  concisely  stated  in  the  article  Ba.sta.rdt. 

The  conditions  of  persons  entitled  to  relief  are  indicated 
by  the  terms  of  the  statute  of  Elizabeth.  If  they  fall 
within  the  definitions  there  given  they  have  right  to  relief. 
A  fundamental  principle  with  respect  to  legal  relief  of  the 
poor  is  that  the  condition  of  the  pauper  ought  to  be,  on 
the  whole,  less  eligible  than  that  of  the  independent 
labourer.  The  pauper  has  no  just  ground  for  complaint, 
if,  while  his  physical  wants  are  adequately  provided  for, 
his  condition  is  less  eligible  than  that  of  the  Doorest  class 
of  those  who  contribute  to  his  support. 

Although  a  fund  has  become  a  practical  necessity,  it 
ahould  be  always  borne  in  mind  tbat  he  who  claims  it  is 
not  honest  if  his  own  labour  and  work  can  suffice  to  pro- 
vide for  his  wants.  It  is  as  immoral  and  unjust  to  take 
unnecessarily  from  the  industrious  and  saving  by  force  of 
a  law  made  and  a  tax  raised  for  other  objects  as  it  would 
be  for  a  labourer  of  equal  means  to  pillage  and  take  from 
the  pocket  of  his  fellow  labourer. 

If  a  state  of  destitution  exists,  the  failure  of  third  per- 
sons to  perform  their  duty,  as  a  husband,  or  relative  men- 
tioned in  the  statute  of  Elizabeth,  neglecting  those  he 
is  under  a  legal  obligation  to  support,  is  no  answer  to 
the  application.  The  relief  should  be  afforded,  and  is 
often  a  condition  precedent  to  the  right  of  parish  officers 
to  take  proceedings  against  the  relatives  or  to  apply  to 
other  poor  unions.  The  duty  to  give  immediate  relief 
must,  however,  vary  with  the  circumstances.  The  case  of 
wanderers  under  circumstances  not  admitting  of  delay 
may  be  different  from  that  of  persons  resident  on  the  spot 
where  inquiry  as  to  all  the  circumstances  is  practicable. 
The  statute  of  Elizabeth  contemplated  that  the  relief  was 
to  be  afforded  to  the  poor  resident  in  the  parish,  but  it  is 
contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the  law  that  any  person  shall  be 
permitted  to  perish  from  starvation  or  want  of  medical 
assistance.  Whoever  is  by  sudden  emergency  or  urgent 
distress  deprived  of  the  ordinary  means  of  subsistence  has 
a  right  to  apply  for  immediate  relief  where  he  may  happen 
to  bo.  Persons  comprehended  within  this  class  are  called 
"  casual  poor,"  although  the  term  "casuals"  is  generally 
used  in  reference  to  vagrants  who  take  refuge  for  a  short 
time  in  the  "  casual  wards  "  of  workhouses. 

Various  tests  are  applied  to  ascertain  whether  applicants 
are  really  destitute.  Labour  tests  are  applied  to  the  able- 
bodied,  and  workhouse  tests  are  applied  to  those  to  whom 
entering  a  workhouse  is  made  a  condition  of  relief. 

As  to  the  nature  and  kmd  of  relief  given  under  the 
poor  laws  the  great  distinction  restored  rather  than  intro- 
duced by  the  amendment  of  the  poor-law  system  in  1834 
was  giving  all  relief  to  able-bodied  persons  or  their  families 


in  well-regulated  workhouses  (that  is  to  say,  places  where 
they  may  be  set  to  work  according  to  the  spirit  and  inten- 
tion of  the  statute  of  Elizabeth),  and  confining  outdoor 
relief- to  the  impotent— that  is,  all  except  the  able-bodied 
and  their  families.  Although  workhouses  formed  a  con- 
spicuous feature  iii  legislation  for  the  poor  from  an  early 
period,  the  erection  of  those  buildings  for  unions  through- 
out the  country  where  not  already  provided  followed  imme- 
diately on  the  amendment  of  the  system  in  1834.  Sine* 
that  time  there  has  been  a  constant  struggle  between  the 
pauper  class  and  the  administrators  of  the  law,  the  former 
naturally  wishing  to  be  relieved  at  their  own  homes,  and 
in  many  instances  choosing  rather  to  go  without  aid  than 
to  remove  within  the  walls  of  the  workhouse. 

Relief  given  in  a  workhouse  is  termed  "in  (or  indoor)  mainten- 
ance "  relief,  and  when  given  at  the  homes  of  the  paupers  is  termed 
"  outdoor  relief."  The  regulations,  accounts,  and  returns  to  parlia- 
ment, as  well  as  the  principles  governing  relief,  are  based  on  these 
distinctions.  It  is  impossible,  howeVer,  to  apply  rigid  principles 
very  closely,  or  rather  the  exceptions  in  practice  are  so  numerous 
that  the  majority  of  resident  poor  are  relieved  at  their  own  homes 
by  being  supplied  with  necessaries  in  kind,  or  by  payment  either 
wholly  or  in  part  in  coin,  as  circumstances  are  held  to  demand  oi 
warrant.  The  general  order  is  that  every  able-bodied  person,  male 
or  female,  requiring  relief  shall  be  relieved  only  in  the  workhouse, 
together  with  such  of  the  family  as  may  be  resident  with  such  able- 
bodied  person,  and  not  in  employment,  including  his  wife  residing 
with  him.  The  exceptions  made  are  where  the  person  requires 
relief  on  account  of  sudden  and  urgent  necessity,  or  on  account  of 
any  sickness,  accident,  or  bodily  or  mental  infirmity  affecting  such 
person  or  any  of  his  family  ;  where  relief  is  required  for  the  pur- 
pose of  defraying  the  expenses  of  burial  of  any  of  the  family  ;  in 
the  case  of  widows,  relief  in  the  first  six  months  of  her  widowhood 
when  she  has  legitimate  children'  dependent  upon  her  incapable  jf 
earning  a  livelihood,  and  has  no  Ulegitimate  children  boru  after  her 
widowhood.  Further  relief  in  or  out  of  the  workhouse  may  b* 
given  by  guardians  in  their  discretion  to  a  wife  or  children  of  aii 
able-bodied  man  not  resident  within  the  union. 

By  the  Industrial  School  Act  any  child  found  begging  or  receivihg 
alms  (whether  actually  or  under  the  pretaxt  of  selling  or  offering 
for  sale  anything),  or  being  in  any  street  or  public  place  for  the 

Eurpose  of  begging  or  leceiving  alms,  or  found  wandering  and  not 
aving  any  home  or  settled  place  of  abode  or  proper  guardianship 
or  visible  means  of  subsistence,  or  found  destitute,  eitner  being- an 
orphan  or  having  a  surviving  parent  who  is  undergoing  ])cnal  ser- 
vitude or  imprisonment,  or  that  frequents  the  company  of  reputed 
thieves  (as  also  in  some  other  cases  recently  added),  may  be  sent 
to  a  certified  industrial  school,  and  while  a  school  is  being  found 
justices  may  order  detention  for  a  week  in  the  workhouse. 

In  the  metropolis  justices  have  power  to  cause  inmates  of  dan- 
gerous structures  to  be  received  into  a  workhouse. 

Besides  workhouses,  district  asylums  are  provided  for  the  dcstif 
tute  poor  in  certain  places.  Under  the  Poor- Law  Amendment  Act, 
1844,  reciting  that  it  was  expedient  that  more  effectual  means 
should  be  provided  for  the  temporary  relief  of  poor  persons  found 
destitute  and  without  lodgings  within  the  district  of  the  metro- 
politan police  or  the  city  of  London,  and  in  Liverpool,  Manchester, 
Bristol,  Leeds,  and  Birmingham,  district  boards  were  established, 
by  which  provision  is  made  for  such  temporary  relief  and  setting 
to  work  therein  of  any  poor  person  found  destitute  within  any  such 
district,  not  professing  to  be  settled  in  any  parish  included  in  it 
and  not  known  to  have  any  place  of  abode  there  and  not  charged 
with  any  offence  under  the  Vagrant  Act. 

In  1867  under  the  Metropolitan  Poor  Act  of  that  year  unions  and 
parishes  in  the  metropolis  -were  by  order  of  the  board  formed  into 
asylum  districts,  in  each  of  which  there  is  one  asylum  or  more  for 
the  reception  and  relief  of  the  sick,  insane,  or  infirm,  under  a  body 
of  managers  partly  elective  and  partly  nominated  by  the  bonnl,  who 
build  or  hire  asylums  and  furnish  tliom,  and  appoint  committees. 
The  attendance  at  the  asylum  of  a  special  commissioner  of  lunacy 
is  provided  for.  Special  provision  is  made  a.-)  well  for  outdoor  as 
indoor  medical  relief  by  providing  dispensaries  and  the  dispensing 
of  medicines,  with  regulations  for  the  appointment  of  medical  officeiv 
in  the  district. 

The  necessarily  largo  oxpondituro  for  the  asylums  is  principally 
defrayed  by  a  fund  railed  the  metropolitan  common  poor  fund,  by 
contributions  from  the  several  unions,  parishes,  and  places  in  the 
metropolis.  Hie  amount  of  the  roapeotivo  assessments  is  deter- 
mined by  the  local  government  board  occording  to  the  valnation 
lists  (noted  hereafter)  or  on  such  other  basis  as  the  board  directs, 
the  contribution  being  enforced  by  a  precept  of  the  board  ;  and  the 
bodies  tilled  on  to  pay  levy  the  amount  by  a  rate  on  occupiers  of 
rateable  property  in  th«  nature  of  a  poor  iste. 


476 


POOR      LA^VS 


Work-  Admission  to  a  workhouse  may  be  by  a  written  orJer  of  the 

house  board  of  guardians,  or  by  the  master  or  matron  (or  in  tlieir  absence 
rules.  by  the  porter)  without  an  order  in  any  case  of  sudden  or  urgent 
necessity,  or  provisionally  by  a  relieving  officer,  or  overseer,  or 
churchwarden.  Any  person  who  is  brought  by  a  policeman  as 
having  been  found  wandering  in  a  State  of  destitution  may  be 
admitted.  It  is  to  be  observed  generally,  with  respect  to  all  per- 
sons who  may  apply  for  admission  into  the  workhouse  under 
circumstances  of  urgent  necessity,  that  their  destitution,  coupled 
with  the  fact  of  being  within  the  union  or  parish,  entitles  them  to 
relief,  altogether  independently  of  their  settlement  (see  below),  if 
they  have  one,  which  is  a  matter  for  subsequent  inquiry. 

The  regulations  for  the  government  of  workhouses  fall  under 
two  elasses : — (1)  those  which  are  necessary  for  the'  maintenance  of 
good  order  in  any  building  in  which  considerable  numbers  of 
persons  of  both  se.xes  and  of  different  ages,  reside  ;  (2)  those  which 
are  necessary  in  order  that  these  establishments  may  not  be  alms- 
houses, but  workhouses  in  the  proper  meaning  of  the  term. 

The  inmates  of  a  workhouse  are  necessarily  separated  into  certain 
classes.  In  no  well-managed  institutioi.  fthissort,  in  any  country, 
are  males  and  females,  the  old  and  the  young,  the  healthy  and  the 
sick,  indiscriminately  mi.xed  together.  The  general  classification 
of  paupers  in  the  workhouse  so  far  as  the  structure  admits  is  as 
follows: — Class  1,  men  infirm  through  age  or  any  other  cause; 
Class  2,  able-bodied  men,  and  youths  above  the  age  of  fifteen  ; 
Class  3,  boys  above  the  age  of  seven  and  under  fifteen  ;  Class  4, 
women  infirm  through  age  or  any  other  cause  ;  Class  5,  able-bodied 
women,  and  girls  above  fifteen;  Class  6,  girls  above  seven  and 
under  fifteen  ;  Class  7,  children  under  seven.  To  each  class  is 
assigned  that  ward  or  separate  building  and  yard  which  may  bo 
best  fitted  for  the  reception  of  such  class,  and  each  class  is  without 
communication  with  those  of  any  other  class.  Guardians  are  re- 
quired to  divide  the  paupers  into  the  seven  classes,  and  to  subdivide 
any  one  or  more  of  these  classes  in  any  manner  which  may  be  advis- 
able, and  which  the  internal  arrangements  of  the  workhouse  admit; 
and  the  guardians  are  required  from  time  to  time,  after  consulting 
the  medical  officer,  to  maKe  necessary  arrangements  with  regard  to 
persons  labouring  under  any  disease  of  body  or  mind,  and,  so  far  as 
circumstances  permit,  to  subdivide  any  of  the  enumerated  classes 
with  reference  to  the  moral  character  or  behaviour  or  the  previoua 
habits  of  the  inmates,  or  to  such  other  grounds  as  may  seem  ex- 
pedient. 

For  example,  it  is  very  desirable  that  females  of  dissolute  and 
disorderly  habits  should  be  separated  from  those  of  a  good  character, 
for  it  is  the  duty  of  the  guardians  to  take  all  reasonable  care  that 
the  morals  of  persons  admitted  into  the  house  be  not  corrupted  by 
intercourse  with  inmates  of  this  description  ;  but  this  has  reference 
to  continued  ill-conduct,  and  is  not  in  any  way  to  be  a  punishment 
for  offences  committed  previous  to  entrance  into  the  workhouse  and 
discontinued  before  admission. 

The  separation  of  married  couples  was  long  a  vexed  question,  the 
evils  on  the  one  hand  arising  from  the  former  unrestricted  practice 
beiug  very  great,  while  on  the  other  hand  the  separation  of  old 
couples  was  felt  as  a  great  hardship,  and  by  express  statutory  pro- 
vision in  1847  husband  and  wife,  both  being  above  the  age  of  sixty, 
received  into  a  workhouse  cannot  be  compelled  to  live  separate  and 
apart  from  each  other  (10  &  11  Vict.  c.  109,  §  23).  This  exemption 
was  carried  somewhat  further  by  contemporaneous  orders  of  the 
board,  under  which  guardians  were  not  compelled  to  separate  infirm 
couples,  provided  they  had  a  sleeping  apartment  separate  from  that 
of  other  paupers  ;  and  in  1876  guardians  were  empowered,  at  their 
discretion,  to  permit  husband  and  wife  where  either  of  them  is  in- 
firm, sick,  or  disabled  by  any  injury,  or  above  sixty  years  of  age, 
to  live  together,  but  every  such  case  must  be  reported  to  the  local 
government  board  (39  &  40  Vict.  c.  61,  §  10). 

Children  under  seven  are  placed  in  such  of  the  wards  appropriated 
to  female  paupers  as  may  be  deemed  expedient,  and  their  motl^ers 
are  permitted  to  have  access  to  them  at  all  reasonable  times ;  fathers 
or  mothers  who  may  be  desirous  of  seeing  any  child  who  is  in  the 
eame  workhouse  have  a  daily  interview ;  and  arrangements  are  made 
for  permitting  members  of  the  same  family  who  are  in  difl'erent  work- 
houses of  the  union  to  have  occasional  interviews  with  each  other  at 
Buch  times  and  in  such  manner  as  best  suits  the  discipline  of  the 
several  workhouses. 

Casual  and  poor  wayfarers  admitted  by  the  master  and  matron 
are  kept  in  a  separate  ward  and  dieted  and  set  to  work  in  such 
manner  as  the  guardians  by  resolution  direct ;  and  whenever  any 
vagrants  or  mendicants  are  received  into  a  worldiouse  they  ought 
(as  a  precaution  necessary  for  preventing  the  introduction  of  infec- 
tious or  contagious  diseases)  to  be  kept  entirely  separate  from  the 
other  inmates,  unless  their  stay  exceeds  a  single  night. 

The  guardians  may  direct  that  any  pauper  inmate  of  the  work- 
house of  any  class,  except  casuafi  paupers,  shall  be  detained  in  the 
workhouse  after  giving  notice  to  quit  it,  for  limited  periods.  A 
casual  pauper  (that  is,  any  destitute  wayfarer  or  wanderer  appljnng 
for  or  receiving  relief)  is  not  entitled  to  discharge  himself  from  a 
casual  ward  before  9  a.m.  of  the  second  day  following  hio  admission, 


or  of  the  fourth  day  if  he  has  been  previously  admitted  more  than 
once  within  a  month,  nor  before  he  has  performed  the  wM'k 
prescribed  for  him  (Casual  Poor  Act,  1882). 

Infirmaries  are  attached  to  many  workhouses,  especially  fn  Iho 
metropolis,  and  also  in  some  cases  there  arc  intirmarios  for  thn  poor 
distinct  from  the  workhouse  ;  all  are  governed  and  regulated  nuder 
the  orders  of  a  central  board. 

The  outdoor  labour  test  order  of  the  local  government  iKMnl 
directs  that  .every  able-bodied  male  pauper  who  may  receive  rcliel 
within  the  union  out  of  the  woikhonso  shall  be  rclic-vcd  in  tlio 
following  manner  :— half  at  least  of  the  relief  given  to  such  i>aui>cr 
shall  be  given  in  food,  clothing,  and  other  articles  of  necessity,  and 
no  such  pauper  shall  receive  relief  from  the  guardians  of  the  union 
or  any  of  their  officers  or  any  overseer  while  he  is  employed  for 
wages  or  other  hire  or  remuneration  by  any  person  ;  but  every  such 
pauper  shall  be  set  to  work  by  the  guardians.  The  kind  of  work  ia 
reported  to  the  board.  A  departure  from  the  order  is,  however,  per- 
mitted if  approved  by  the  board. 

To  prevent  the  practice  formerly  prevailing  in  some  parts  whereby 
the  poor  rates  were  used  for  the  payment  of  rents  directly  to  the 
landlords,  the  guardians  and  parish  olDcers  are  prohibited  from 
paying  the  rent  of  the  house  or  lodging  of  any  pauper,  or  ajiplying 
any  relief  in  such  payment  directly  or  indirectly.  This  docs  not 
apply,  however,  to  any  shelter  or  temporary  lodging  procured  in 
any  case  of  sudden  and  urgent  necessity,  or  mental  imbecility;  nor 
does  it  prevent  the  guardians,  in  regulating  the  amount  of  relief  to 
be  afforded  to  any  particular  person,  from  considering  the  expenso 
to  be  incurred  in  providing  lodging.'  This  allows  of  sujiplying  to 
the  pauper  the  means  of  paying  for  a  lodging  instead  of  requijing 
him  to  come  into  the  workhouse  in  such  exceptional  cases. 

Jlodem  remedial  legislation  and  public  ellbits  connected  with 
improved  dwellings  for  labourers  and  artisans,  as  well  as  for  the 
poor  generally,  are  distinct  from  the  laws  for  the  compulsory  relief 
of  the  poor, — although,  like  education,  the  whole  subject  of  ameliora- 
tion of  classes  admits  in  some  of  its  aspects  of  being  viewed  together. 
The  allotment  of  land  to  industrious  poor  has  been  also  of  great 
service  (Allotments  Extension  Act,  1882). 

Guaraians  having  greater  provision  for  the  reception  of  poor 
childrep  in  tlieir  workhouse  than  they  require  may  with  the  con- 
sent of  the  board  contract  with  the  guardians  of  any  other  union 
or  parish  for  the  reception,  maintenance,  and  instruction  of  any 
poor  children  under  sixteen  being  orphans  or  deserted  by  their 
parents  or  whose  parents  consent  (14  k  13  Vict.  c.  105  ;  29  &  30 
Vict.  c.  113). 

A  consolidated  order  comprising  workhouse  regulationsEdHcaw* 
prescribes  'that  the  boys  and  girls  who  are  inmates  of  agcboaU 
workhouse  shall,  for  three  of  the  working  hours  at  least 
every  day,  be  instructed  in  reading,  writing,  arithmetic, 
and  the  principles  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  such 
other  instruction  shall  be  imparted  to  them  as  may  fit 
them  for  service,  and  train  them  to  habits  of  usefulness, 
industry,  and  virtue. 

In  relation  to  education  of  poor  children  out  of  the 
workhouse  there  hks  been  much  legislation.  .  To  go  no 
farther  back,  the  Act  of  1855,  providing  for  the  education 
of  children  in  the  receipt  of  outdoor  relief  (18  &  19  Vict, 
c.  34,  known  as  Denison's  Act),  was  superseded  in  1873 
by  the  Elementary  Education  Act  of  that  year  (36  <t  37 
Vict.  c.  86),  containing  a  special  clause  for  the  education 
of  children  relieved  out  ofi  the  workhoase  and  the  pay- 
ment of  school  fees,  but  this  clause  was  in  turn  repealed 
by  the  Elementary  Education  Act,  1876  (39  &  40  Vict.  & 
79),  making  it  the  duty  of  every  parent  to  cause  a  child 
to  receive  efficient  elementary  instruction  in  reading, 
writing,  and  arithmetic.     See  Education. 

By  this  Act  a  provision  substituted  for  that  of  1873 
enacts  that  where  relief  out  of  the  workhouse  is  given  by 
the  guardians  or  by  their  order  by  way  of  weekly  or  other 
continuing  allowance  to  the  parent  of  any  child  above  the 
age  of  five  years  who  has  not  reached  the  standard  in  read- 
ing, writing,  and  arithmetic  prescribed  by  a  certain  code, 
or  who  for  the  time  being  either  is  prohibited  by  the  Act 
frorn  being  taken  into  full  time  employment,  or  who  by 
any  bye-law  under  the  earlier  Elementary  Education  Act 
of  1870  is  r-equired  to  attend  school,  it  shall  be  a  condi- 
tion for  the  continuance  of  such  relief  to  the  parent  or 
child  that  elementary  education  in  reading,  writing,  and 
arithmetic   shall    bo   provided   for   such   child,    and   the 


F  O  O  R      LAWS 


477 


euardians  are  required  to  give  such  further  relief  (if  any) 
L  may  be  necessary  for  that  purpose. .  Such  relief  cannot 
be  cranted  on  condition  of  the  child  attending  any  public 
elementary  school  other  than  such  as  may  be  selected  by 
Itie  parent,  nor  refused  because  the  child  attends  or  does 
not  attend'any  particular  public  elementary  school.  More- 
over the  guardians  have  no  power  under  this  provision  to 
give  any  relief  to  a  parent  in  order  to  enable  such  parent 
to  pay  more  than  the  ordinary  fee  payable  at  the  school 
which  he  selects,  or  more  than  the  fee  vhich  under  the 
provisions  of  the  Act  they  can  enable  a  parent  to  pay  in 
any  other  case.  All  relief  given  by  the  guardians  under 
this  provision  is  deemed  to  be  relief  within  the  meaning 
of  the  poor  laws  and  payable  out  of  their  common  fund 
(39  &  40  Vict.  c.  79,  §  40 ;  see  also  §  34).  A  child  can- 
not, as  a  condition  of  the  continuance  of  relief  out  of  the 
workhouse  under  the  above  provision,  be  required  to 
attend  school  further  or  otherwise  than  is  obligatory  by 
any  bye-law  of  a  school  board  (43  &  44  Vict.  c.  23,  §  5). ' 

Money  given  for  the  payment  of  school  fees  for  any 
cnild  of  a  parent  who  is  not  a  pauper  and  is  resident  in  any 
parish  is  charged  by  the  guardians  having  jurisdiction  to 
that  parish  with  other  parochial  charges  (39  &  40  Vict.  §  35). 

The  education  of  poor  children  is  closely  connected  with  the 
syrtcin  of  "boarding  out,"  as  it  is  termed.  The  guardians  of 
tertaiu  ufiions  are  empowered  to  board  out  pauper  children  in 
homes  beyond  the  limits  of  the  union,  provided  the  guardians  have 
eiitered  into  approved  arrangements  which  include  education 
(boarding-out  order  1870) ;  and  by  a  statute  of  1862  (still  unrepealed, 
except  so  far  as  by  implication  provisions  are  superseded)  the 
euardians  of  any  parish  or  union  may  send  any  poor  child  to  any 
school  certified  to  the  board  as  fit  for  their  reception  and  charge 
the  expenses  in  the  same  manner  as  other  rehef.  Unless  an 
orphan  or  deserted  or  haviug  the  consent  of  a  parent,  a  child 
cannot  be  sent  under  this  statute,  and  no  child  can  be  kept  against 
its  will  if  above  fourteen.     Such  school  is  open  to  inspection  (25 

Jt  26  Vict  c.  43).  .     I.-  -u      •  I,*  !,„ 

Under  the  last-mentioned  statute,  the  amount  which  might  be 
paid  by  a  board  of  guardians  for  the  maintenance  of  a  child  in  an 
institution  certified  under  that  statute  was  limited  to  the  cost  of  the 
maintenance  of  the  child  in"  the  workliouse  ;  but  by  the  Divided 
Parishes  and  Poor-Law  Amendment  Act,  1882,  the  guardians  may 
pay  the  reasonable  expenses  incurred  in  the  maintenance,  cloth- 
ipg  and  education  of  the  child  to  an  amount  sanctioned  by  the 
local  government  board.  The  board  has  accordingly  sanctioned 
rates  of  payment,  and  in  practice,  when  issuing  a  certihcate,  specifics 
the  maximum  amount  which  may  be  paid  by  the  guardians  as  a 
reasonable  allowance  towards  the  maintenance  of  any  pauper  child 
sent  to  the  institution.  .        c^^ 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  provisions  of  the  tlementary  Muca- 
tion  Acts  as  to  the  employment  of  children  by  employers  in  school 
districte  not  within  the  jurisdiction  of  a  school  bpard,  consisting 
of  a  parish  and  not  a  borough,  must  be  enforced  by  the  school  com- 
mittee of  guardians  of  the  union  (39  &  40  Vict.  c.  79,  §  7). 

The  daily  average  number  of  children  of  both  sexes  attending  the 
pchools  of  the  union  workhouses,  &c.,  in  England  and  Wales  during 
the  half-year  ended  at  Lady  Day  1883  was  26,170.  Added  to  this 
total  there  is  the  average  daily  attendance  at  district  scliools 
7488  and  488  in  the  metropolitan  asylum  district,  making  a  total 
of  34,146.  The  amount  paid  to  boards  of  guardians  and  managers 
out  of  the  parUameutaiy  grant  in  respect  of  the  salaries  of  work- 
iouse  and  district  school  teachers  for  the  year  ending  I^dy  Day 
^883  was  £38,629,  lis.' 

Various  provisions'relating  to  the  apprenticeship  of  poor 
ichildrcn  have  been  noticed  in  tracing  the  progress  of  legisla- 
tion. Guardians  are  not  restricted  from  binding  as  appren- 
tices children  who  are  not  actually  in  the  receipt  of  relief 
or  whoso  parents  may  not  be  in  the  receipt  of  relief  as 
paupers  at  the  time  of  the  binding.  .  Such  children  as  may 
ordinarily  be  considered  ."poor  children"  are  within  the 
scope  of  the  provisions  respecting  the  apprenticeship  of 
pauper  children.  P.ut  apprenticeship  under  the  poor  laws 
is  a  species  of  relief  which  can  only  bo  given  subjeot-to  the 
general  or  special  regulations  on  the  subject 

The  t"'iieral  orders  dirtct  that  no  child  under  tbo. age 'ol'nind 
years  ai.d  no  child  (other  than  a  deaf  aiul  dumb  rliild)  who  cannot 
read  and  write  hiM  own  name  shall  bo  bound  apprentiic  by  the 
tuardians.  and  no  chlUl  is  b  ■"iMl.to  a  iwtaoBMvho  is«iin.lcB,.l«cnty- 


one  or  who  is  a  married  woman,  or  to  a  person  who  is  not  a  hOHse- 
keeper  or  assessed  to  the  poor  rate  in  his  own  name,  or  who  is  a 
journeyman  or  a  person  not  carrying  on  trkde  or  business  on  his 
own  account  And  no  child  can  bo  bound,  unless  in  particular 
cases,  to  a  master  whose  place  of  business  is  more  than  3.0  miles 
from  the  residence  of  the  child  at  the  time  of  binding.  The  term  of 
apprenticeship  is  discretionary  with  the  guardians,  but  no  apprentice 
can  be  bound  for  more  than  eight  years,  and  if  the  child  is  above 
fourteen  his  own  consent  is  required.  If  under  sixteen  his  father  s 
consent  (or,  if  his  father  is  dead,  his  mother's  if  living)  is  necessary. 
Various  preliminaries  to  the  binding  are  requisite,-  affecting  the 
liealth  and  strength  of  the  child  and  all  attendant  circumstances. 
"When  any  premium  is  given  it  must  in  part  consist  of  clothes 
supplied  to  the  apprentice  and  in  part  of  money  to  the  master. 
The  duties  of  the  master  of  a  pauper  apprentice  are  specially 
provided  for  both-  by  statute  and  by  the  regulations  adopted  by 
the  local  government  board. 

.  In  the  administration  of  medical  relief  to  tne  sick,  the 
objects  kept  in  view  are— (1)  to  provide  medical  aid  for 
persons  who  are  really  destitute,  and  (2)  to  prevent  medi- 
cal relief  from  generating  or  encouraging  pauperism,  and 
with  this  view  to  withdraw  from  the  labouring  classes,  as 
well  as  from  the  administrators  of  relief  and  the  medical 
officers,  all  motives  for  applying  for  or  administering 
medical  relief,  unless  ^where_the  circumstances  render  it 
absolutely  necessary. 

■  Unions  are  formed  into  medical  districts  limited  in  area  ami 
population,  to  which  a  paid  medical  officer  is  appointed  who  is 
furnished  with  a  list  of  all  such  aged  and  infirm  persons  and  persoDS 
permanently  sick  or  disabled  as  are  actually  receiving  relief  and 
residing  within  the  medical  officer's  district  Every  person  named 
in  the  list  receives  a  ticket,  and  on  exhibiting  it  to  the  medical 
.officer  is  entitled  to  advice,  attendance,  and  medicine  as  his  case 
may  require.  Medical-  outdoor  relief  in  connexion  with  dispen- 
saries is  ttgulated  in  asylum  districts  of  the  metropoUs  by  the 
Metropolitan  Poor  Act,  1867  (30  &  31  Vict  c.  6). 

A  lunatic  asylum  is  required  to  be  provided  by  a  pauper 
county  or  borough  for  the  reception  of  pauper  lunatics,  "'»»"" 
with  a  committee  of  visitors  who,  among  other  duties,  fix 
a  weekly  sum  to  be  charged  for  the  lodging,  maintenance, 
medicine,  and  clothing  of  each  pauper  lunatic  confined  in 
such  asylum.  Medical  officers  of  unions  and  parishes 
having  knowledge  that  any  resident  pauper  is  or  is  deemed 
tobe  a  lunatic,  give  written  notice  to  relieving  officers  or 
other  officers,  and  such  officers,  having  knowledge  either 
by  such  notice  or  otherwise  of  the  fact,  must  apply  to  a 
justice,  who  requires  the  relieving  officer  to  bring  the 
pauper  before  him,  or  some  other  justice,  calling  to  his 
assistance  a  duly  qualified  medical  man  (physician,  surgeon, 
or  apothecary),  and  upon  his  certificate,  and  the  justice 
upon  view  or  examination  or  other  proofs  being  satished 
that  such  pauper  is  a  lunatic  and  a  proper  person  to  be 
taken  charge  of  and  detained  under  care  and  treatment, 
a  written  order  is  made  out  directing  the  pauper  to  be 
received  into  such  asylum.  That  is  the  orduiary  mode, 
but  justices  may  act  on  their  own  knowledge,  and  pohce 
officers  have  power  to  apprchcnd...wandering  .lunatics  and 
take  them  before  justices..." 

The  Metropolitan  Poor  Act,  1867,  already  noticed,  contains  many 
provisions  applicable  to  insane  poor,  including  tho.  right  of  the 
commissioners  of  lunacy  to  visit  the  asylums.  .K  ,„„:„.i 

In  some  cases  when  duly  authorized  f.  lo^o^.-'Y,  ^^  J'"'^'^ 
into  a  registered  hospital  or  house  duly  licensed  for  tho  rccoptiort 
of  lunatic!  No  lunatics  can  bo  kept  in  a  workhouse  more  th^ 
fourteen  days  except  under  special  circumstances;  "'<»"'»  P"^ 
visions  aie  made  for  tho  care,  visitation,  and  discharge  of  th. 
lunatics  .  Tho  central  board  has  made  regulations  leBpeCling  th« 
detention  of  harmless  idiots  and  other  insane  persons  { 
-  The  cost  of  removal  and  maintenance  is  borno  by  the  cominor, 
fund  of  the  union,  and  justices  .ending  the  pauper,  or  ho  vjsitm. 
justices  of  an  asylum  may  draw  uj.on  the  guaidmns  for  thrsmo'in 
if  the  r.auper's  maintenance  in  'avour  of  the  treasurer,  office  .01 
proprietor  'of  tho  asylum.  Any  ,M;operty  of  the  lunatic  .9  apph<. 
able  to  his  maintenance.  Special  provision  is  made  for  .m,uiri 
?nto  tho  settlement  and  adjudicating  i^^'-f.  f";.  W'"""'.''.'  "^^ 
of  maintenance  in  accordance  with  the  adpidication  (10  &.17J  "^t. 
c  97,  and  subsequent  Acts).  Th.-rc  arc  a  so  spocial  rrov'sions  a 
to  pauper  rriminnl  lunatics  and  sending  them  to  an  asylum  at  h. 
cost  rtCthc  common  fund .pfaUc  union  as  in  other  cnsis.-!..  »l"c'l 


478 


P  O  O  E      LAWS- 


espenses,  however,  the  person's  property,  if  he  have  any  (Criminal 
Lunatics  Act,  18S4,  and  Acts  there  referred  to),  is  applicable. 

An  increase  has  taken  place  lor  many  years  past  in  the  number 
of  lunatic  paupers.  .The  total  number  of  this  class  of  paupers 
relieved  on  1st  January  1883  was  larger  by  1867  than  it  was  on 
the  corresponding  day  in  1882. 

A  settlement  is  the  right  acquired  in  any  one  of  the 
•modes  pointed  out  by  the  poor  laws  to  become  a  recipient 
of  the  benefit  of  those  laws  in  that  parish  or  place  where 
the  right  has  been  last  acquired. 

No  relief  is  given  from  the  poor  rates  of  a  parish  to 
any  person  who  does  not  reside  within  the  union,  except 
where  such  person  being  casually  within  a  parish  becomes 
destitute  by  sudden  distress,  or  where  such  person  is 
entitled  to  receive  relief  from  any  parish  where  nonr-resi- 
dent  under  justice's  order  (applicable  to  persons  onder 
orders  of  removal  and  to  non-resident  Junatics),  and  aac.  ept 
to  widows  and  legitimate  children  wher§  the  widow  was 
resident  with  her  husband  at  the  time  of  his  death  out  of 
the  union  in  which  she  was  not  settled,  or  where  a  child 
under  sixteen  is  maintained  in  a  workhouse  or  establish- 
ment for  the  education  of  pauper  children  not  situate  in 
the  union,  and  in  some  other  exceptional  cases. 

The  progress  of  the  law  of  settlement  may  be  gathered  from  the 
statutes  already  referred  to  ;  and,  without  again  adverting  to  legisla- 
tion already  noticed,  and  much  more  not  enumerated,  it  must  be 
sufficient  to  point  out  that  immediately  before  the  passing  of  the 
Poor-Law  Amendment  Act,  1834,  settlements  were  acquired  by 
birth,  hiring  and  service,  apprenticeship,  renting  a  tenement, 
estate,  office,  -or  payment  of  rates.  In  addition  to  these  an 
acknowledgment  (by  certificate,  of  which  mention  has  been  made, 
by  relief  or  acts  of  acquiescence)  has  practically  the  effect  of  a 
settlement,  for,  if  unexplained,  such  au  acknowledgment  stops 
the  parish  from  disputing  a  settlement  in  the  parish  acknowledg- 
ing. Tlie  Poor-Law  Araeudment  Act,  1834,  abolished  settlement 
by  hiring  and  service  (or  by  residence  under  it)  and  by  serving> 
an  office,  and  by  apprenticeship  in  the  sea  service.  Moreover  the 
guardians  of  a  union  miglit  agree  (subject  to  the  approval  of  the 
commissioners)  that  all  the  parishes  forming  it  should  for  the 
purposes  of  settlement  be  considered  as  one  parish. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that,  for  the  purposes  of  relief,  settlement, 
and  removal  and  burial,  the  workhouse  of  any  parish  is  considered 
as  situated  in  the  parish  to  which  each  poor  person  is  chargeable. 

There  may  be  a  settlemeut  by  parentage,  for  legitimate  children 
take  the  settlement  of  their  father,  or  if  he  has  no  settlement  they 
are  entitled  to  the  settlement  of  their  mother  ;  and  it  is  only  when 
both  these  sources  fail  discovery  that  their  right  of  settlement  by 
birth  accrues  ;  for  until  the  settlement  of  the  father  or  mother  has 
been  ascertained  the  settlement  of  a  legitimate  child,  like  that  of  a 
bastard,  is  in  the  place  where  the  birth  took  place. 

A  settlement  attaches  to  those  persons  who  have  a  settlement  of 
some  kind.  Foreigners  born  out  of  the  counti'y  and  not  acquiring 
any  in  one  of  the  modes  pointed  Out  must  be  provided  for,  if 
I'equiring  relief,  where  they  happen  to  be. 

As  the  burden  of  maintaining  the  poor  is  thrown  on  the 
parish  of  settlement,  when  the  necessity  for  immediate  relief 
arises  in  another  parish  the  important  question  arises 
whether  the  paupe-  can  be  removed ;  for,  although  the  parish 
where  the  pauper  happens  to  be  must  afford  immediate 
relief  without  waiting  for  removal,  the  parish  of  settlement 
cannot  in  general  be  charged  with  the  cost  unless  the  pauper 
Is  capable  of  being  removed.  The  question  of  removabilijry 
jis  distinct  from  settlement.  A  pauper  often  acquires  a 
jtatus  of  irremovability  without  gaining  a  settlement. 

Irremovability  is  a  principle  of  great  pubUc  imporiancfe 
quite  irrespective  of  the  incident  of  cost  as  between  one 
parish  or  another.  Before  the  introduction  of  a  status  o6 
..rremovability  removal  might  take  place  (subject  to  powers 
bf  suspension  in  case  of  sickness  and  otherwise)  after  any 
interval  during  which  no  legal  settlement  was  obtained)^ 
mere  length  of  residence  without  concurrent  circumstances 
involving  the  acquisition  of  a  settlement  on  obtaining 
relief  gave  no  right  to  a  person  to  remain  in  the  parish 
where  he  resided. 

In  1846  it  was  enacted  ■  that  no  person  Bhonld  be 
removed  nor  any  warrant  granted  for  the  removal  of  anv 


person  from  any  parish  in  which  such  person  has  resideS 
for  five  years  (9  &  10  Vict.  c.  66).  In*  1861  three  yeara. 
was  substituted  for  five  (24  ik  25  Vict.  c.  55) ;  and  only 
four  years  later  one  year  was  substituted  for  three  (28  & 
29  Vict.  c.  79).  Apart  from  these  reductions  of  time  in 
giving  the  status  of  irremovability,  actual  removals  to  the 
parish  of  settlement  were  narrowed  by  provisions  giving 
to  residence  in  any  part  of  p,  union  the  same  efeect  as  a 
residence  in  any  parish  of  that  union  (24  <S:  25  Vict,  c 
55).  On  the  other  hand  the  time  during  which  parish 
relief  is  received,  or  during  which  the  person  is  in  any 
poorhouse  or  hospital  or  in  a  prison,  is  excluded  from  the 
computation  of  time  (9  &  10  Viet.  c.  66). 

The  removability  .is  well  as  the  settlement  of  the  family, .«.?., 
of  the  wife  and  unemancipated  children,  are  practically  subject  to 
one  and  the  same  -general  rule.  Wherever  any  person  has  a 
wife  or  children  having  another  settlement,  they  are  removable 
where  he  is  removable,  and  are  not  removable  from  any  parish  or 
plice  from  which  he  is  not  removable  (H  &  12  Vict,  c,  211). 

It  is  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  no  person  exempted  from  liability 
to  be  removed  acquires,  by  reason  of  such  exemption,  any  settle- 
ment in  any  parish  ;  but  a  residence  for  three  years  gives  a  quali- 
fied settlement  (39  k  40  Vict.  c.  61). 

The  cost  of  relief  of  pauiiers  rendered  irrempvable  is  borne  by  th^ 
common  fund  of  the  union  (11  &  12  Vict.  c.  110,  §  3)  as  union 
expenses  (§  6),  and  any  question  arising  in  the  union  with  reference 
to  the  charging  relief  may  be  referred  to  and  decided  by  the  local 
government  board  (§  4). 

The  statute  of  Elizabeth  required  overseers  to  account 
to  justices  for  all  moneys  received  by  them  under  rules  oi 
otherwise,  and  all  expenditure  for  the  relief  of  the  poor 
and  to  deliver  over  balances  to  their  successors  (43  Eliz. 
c.  2,  §  2).  By  the  amendment  of  the  poor  laws  in  1834 
the  duty  of  making  payments  was  thrown  chiefly  on  the 
guardians,  leaving  the  overseers  to  assess  and  collect  the 
rates  out  of  which  such  payments  are  chiefly  made.  The 
accounts  of  expenditure  and  receipts  by  all  parties,  includ- 
ing officers  of  union  and  treasurers,  form  a  very  important 
part  of  poor-law  administration.  Tlie  duties,  including 
the  forms  of  books  of  accoimt,  are  minutely  prescribed  by 
orders  of  the  central  board,  and  the  accouuts  are  examined 
and  'audited  half-yearly  by  auditors  appointed  by  the 
board  in  auditory  districts,  the  auditing  by  justices  having 
ceased.  Full  powers  are  given  to  the  auditors  to  make 
this  examination  effectual  and  to  allow  and  disallow 
accounts  and  items  in  them  (see  the  Poor-Law  Amend- 
ment Act,  1868,  and  Acts  there  recited). 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  by  various  provisions  in  the 
poor-law  Acts  power  has  been  given  to  raise  money  bv 
borrowing.  The  Poor-Law  Amendment  Act  1835  author- 
izes applications  for  advances  under  several  earlier  Acts 
for  building  or  enlarging  workhouses  or  for  purchasing 
land,  and  a  subsequent  Act  authorizes  the  borrowing  of 
money  for  payment  of  debts  generally  (5  ik  6  Vict.  c.  16). 

The  principal  items  comprised  in  the  total  amount  expended  in 
the  relief  of  the  poor  in  England  and  "Wales  during  ths  years 
ending  at  Lady  Day  1882  and  1883  are  these  :— 


18S2. 

1883. 

£1,831,595 
2,626,375 

059,460 

351,203 

1,087,641 

1,296,523 

£l,869,.''.n5 
2,589,937 

1,098,322 

430.185 

1,117,705 

1,30?,,418 

2.  Outdoor  reliet 

3.  Maintenance  of  lunatics  in  asy- 
lums or  licensed  houses.. 

4.  Workhouse  and  other  loans  re- 

paid and  interest 

5.  Salaries  and  rations  of  officers, 

6.  Otherexpenses  of,  or  immediately 

Total  relief  to  th©  "DOor  « 

£8,252,797 
20,325 

£S,4ti9,0"0 
55,778 

Deductions* 

Adjusted  cost  of  relief 

£8,232,472 

£8, -353,292 

1  To  be  mtide  ii>  consequence  of  the  payments  from  the  metropolitiin  cuinmvfll 
poor  fond  ezceedtog  the  payments  made  to  that  fund  duri[Mi,ciLdi  yt-or./' 


Y  von     LAWS 


479 


The  comparison  Tjetween  the  two  years  shows  that  with  the 
■■.\ccj)tioii  of  the  outJo<»r  relief  there  has  been  an  increase  in  each 
item  of  expenditure.  In  tliis  respect  the  year  1882-53  fotms  no 
<'xreption  to  its  predecessors,  for  the  out  relief  is  the  only  item  in 
which  there  has  been  any  decrease  of  late  years. 

Bringing  the  expenditure  down  to  a  later  period,  the  compara- 
tive cost  of  the  half  years  ended  at  Lady  Day  18S3  and  1884  stood 
tlins  :— 1883,  in  maintenance  £982,586,  out  relief  £1,269,700,  total 
j£2,252,286  ;'  1884,  in  maintenance  £978,287,  out  relief  £1,226,730, 
total  £2,205,017.  Therefore  the  cost  for  the  half  year  1884  had 
decreised — the  in  maintenance  by  £4299,  and  the  outdoor  relief  by 
£42,9/0.  The  average  price  of  wheat  per  imperial  quarter  during 
the  s.iine  half  years  was— 1883,  40s.  lid.  ;  1834,  38s.*  lid. 

In  the  article  London  tables  have  been  given  of  the  system  of 
poor  relief  there.  It  must  suffice  here  to  notice  that  the  cost  of 
jclief  in  the  metropolis,  comprising  thirty  unions,  has  increased 
since  1875.  On  the  other  hand  the  proportion  which  the  cost  of 
outdoor  relief  bears  to  the  cost  of  in  maiutenanc«  in  the  metropolis  is 
continually  decreasing.  In  1883  the  in  maintenance  was  £586,933 
*nd  the  outdoor  relief  £199,013.  The  expenditure  for  in  and  out 
relief  in  the  metropolis  for  the  Lady  Day  half  years  1S83  and  1884 
stood  thus— 1883,  £417,614  ;  1884,  £425,310,  an  increase  of  £7696. 
Ill  the  jKirochiai  year  1883  the  adjusted  cost  of  relief  was 
^£2,172, 294,  being  enual  to  a  rate  of  Is.  63d.  on  the  rateable  value. 

It  is  satisfactory  to  find  that  the  adult  able-bodied  paupers  have 
been  steadily  diminishing  in  numbers  during  the  last  four  years, 
both  among  indoor  and  outdoor  paupers.  Comparing  1S83  with 
1873,  it  appears  that  there  has  been  a  diminution  of  25,775,  or  no 
less  than  200  per  cent,  in  the  mean  number  of  adult  able-bodied 
persons  receiving  relief,  and,  if  we  take  into  account  the  increased 
population,  we  tind  that  the  diminution  has  been  30  0  per  cent. 
In  the  parochial  year  1883  the  mean  number  of  adult  able-bodied 
paupers  was — indoor  21,558,  outdoor  77.592,  total  99,150.  The 
above  numbers  do  not  include  vagrants. 

Although  for  meny  reasons  it  is  considered  desirable  that  as  far 
as  practicable  out  relief  should  be  given  in  hind  rather  than  in 
money,  it  will  be  seen  by  the  following  table  for  the  parochial 
year  1883  taken  from  the  unaudited  half-yearly  statements  (and 
exclusive  of  relief  given  by  the  guardians  in  respect  of  school  fees) 
how  much  more  is  given  in  money : — 


Poor-Law  Divisions. 

Out-Door  Relief. 

In  Money. 

In  Kind. 

£156,272 
198,657 
193,353 
126,155 
298,371 
254,989 
176,208 
202,070 
234,644 
127,113 
282,487 

£38,623 
62,029 
34,606 
55,486 
29,146 
36,378 
8,248 
14,365 
12,967 
1,639 
10,824 

South-midland  

Eastern                   

York .' 

Ni)rtherii, .          

Wales 

'  Total 

£2,250,319 

£294,312 

Tlie  groat  dilfercnco  which  exists. in  the  several  divisions  in  the 
manner  of  administering  out  relief  is  apparent.  L>  the  eastern 
division  (comprising  Essex,  Suffolk,  and  Norfolk)  nearly  one-third 
of  the  outdoor  relief  was  given  in  kind  ;  while  in  the  northern 
division  (comprising  Northumberland,  Durham,  Cumberland,  and 
Westmoreland)  nearly  the  whole  was  given  in  money. 

The  co.it  per  head  of  relief  on  the  mean  number  was  in  1883 
XI 0,  13s.  oa. ;  in  1873  it  was  £8,  14s.  Id. 

It  may  bo  stated  here  that,  whilst  ih  the  metropolis  the  cost  of 
«utdoor  relief  was  in  1883  little  more  than  one-third  of  that  of  the 
in  maintenance,  the  expenditure  on  out  relief  in  the  remainder  of 
Englaml,  with  the  exception  of  the  north-western  division,  was  con- 
siderably in  excess  of  that  on  in  maintenance,  being  in  Wales  moro 
than  four  and  a  half  times  as  great. 

The  mean  number  of  paupers  relieved  in  1883  was — indoor 
182,932,  and  out  paupers  (inclusive  of  those  chnrgcablo  to  the  poor 
rates  who  are  in  county  and  borough  asylums  or  in  licensed  houses) 
699,490,  or  a  tot.al  mean  number  of  782,422,  beiug  a  ratio  of  29  6 
per  1000  of  the  population.  The  mean  number  of  paupers  relieved 
in  1833  was  smaller  in  proportion  to  the  population  by  101,266 
(or  11  5  per  cent)  than  the  mean  number  relieved  in  1873,  ten 
jrenrs  before — a  decrease,  however,  entirely  owing  to  a  reduction 
in  the  number  of  outdoor  paupers. 

Some  remaikalilo  fluctuations  took  place  in  the  niunher  of 
Vagrants  relieved  during  thi}  ten  years  ending  in  1883.  In  1873 
<he  mean  number  of  this  class  of  panpors  was  2700.  In  1881  it 
Iiad  risen  to  6979,  nu  increase  of  158'6  per  cent  In  1888  it  had 
bllcu  Id  4790.     A.fter  the  end  of  that  ]<arochial  year  it  still  further 


decreased  o«-ing  to  the  operation  of  the  Casual  I'oor  Act,  1882, 
extending,  the  periods  for  which  vagrants  may  be  detained  in 
casual  wards. 

The  increased  cost  of  relief  is  attributable  to  some  extent  to  the 
fact  that  the  proportion  which  the  mean  number  of  paupers 
relieved  in  the  workhouse  bears  to  the  mean  number  of  paupers  oi 
all  classes  is  larger  than  it  formerly  whs  ;  but  it  is  also  attributed 
partly  to  expenses  incurred  in  the  eriction  of  improved  buildings 
the  substitution  of  paid  olficers  for  pauper  help,  and  otlier  similar 
items  of  c.\penditure  incurred  for  the  purpose  of  securing  the  more 
efficient  administration  o£  relief.  The  yearly  cost  per  head  on  the 
mean  number  of  outdoor  paupers  has  diminished  during  the  last 
few  years,  and  was  smaller  during  1883  than  in  any  other  year  since 
1873  with  the  exception  of  the  year  1880. 

The  poor  rate  is  the  fund  from  whieb  the  cost  of  relief 
is  principally  derived.  The  parochial  ta.xation  'for  this 
purpose  in  the  statute'  of  Elizabeth  has  been  already 
noticed.  As  regards  the  subject  matter  of  taxation  the 
only  subsequent  absolute  interference  is  in  relation  to 
saleable  underwood,  and  also  to  rights  of  fowling,  shoot 
ing,  or  taking  game  or  rabbits,  and  of  fishing,  where 
severed  from  the  occupation  of  lands,  and  to  mines  of 
every  kind  not  mentioned  in  the  Act  (see  the  Rating  Act, 
1874).  The  statute  of  Elizabeth  enforced  what  are  called 
duties  of  imperfect  obligation ;  for  it  was,  as  has  been 
seen,  a  duty  before  that  statute  to  relieve  the  poor  and 
necessitous,  and  the  provisions  of  that  Act  were  adapted 
to  the  enforcing  of  those  duties  in  tie  vray  in  which  they 
could  be  practically  carried  out  by  enabling  the. parish 
officers  to  tax  the  inhabitants,  whose  representatives  those 
officers  are,  for  the  actual  performance  of  the  obligations. 

The  Act  gives  persons  aggrieved  by  any  such  tax  a 
right  of  appeal — a  right  which  has  been  fully  exercised  as 
well  as  regulated  and  affected  by  much  subsequent  legisla-- 
tion.  By  the  Parochial  Assessment  Act,  1836  (6  4  7 
Will.  IV.  c.  96),  closely  following  the  poor-law  amendment 
of  two  years  before,  no  rate  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  is  of 
any  force  which  is  not  made  upon  an  estimate  of  the  net 
annual  value  of  the  several  hereditaments  rated,  that  is  to 
say,  of  the  rent  at  which  the  same  might  reasonably  be 
expected  to  let  from  year  to  year  free  of  all  usual  tenant's 
rates  and  taxes,  and  titho  commutation  rent  charge,  if 
any,  and  deducting  therefrom  the  probable  average  a  nual 
cost  of  the  repairs,  insurance,  and  other  expenses,  if  any, 
necessary  to  'maintain  them  in  a  state  to  command  such 
rent. 

Nothing  in  the  Act,  however,  altered  or  affected  the 
principles  or  different  relative'  liabilities  according  to 
which  different  kinds  of  hereditaments  were  previously 
liable.  The  statute  ot  Elizabeth  (extended  in  some 
respects  as  to  places  by  13  &  14  Charles  II.  c.  12) 
embraced  two  classes  of  persons  subject  to  taxation — 
occupiers  of  real  property  and  inhabitants  in  respect  of 
personal  property,  although  the  ratcability  under  the  latter 
head  was  reluctantly  conceded  by  the  courts  of  law,  and 
was  in  practice  only  partially  acted  upon.  Inhabitants  as 
such,  in  respect  of  ability  derived  from  the  profits  of  stock 
in  trade  or  any  other  propert)',  were,  however,  expressly 
relieved  in  1840  by  a  temporary  Act  (3  A  4  Vict.  c.  89), 
since  continued  from  time  U)  time  It  is  solely  by  expir- 
ing laws  continuance  Acts  (tlio  Inst  Act  extending  to 
the  end  of  1885)  that  the  vast  amount  of  personal  pro- 
perty is  relieved  from  the  poor  rat«.  This  exemption, 
and  the  principle  on  wliich  it  is  based,  of  course  forms  an 
important  clement  in  nil  questions  of  local  and  in  many 
of  imperial  taxation. 

As  regards  occujiiera  of  land  and  liotinos,  the  correct  principles  as 
to  the  persons  liable  to  bo  ratofi  were,  after  many  erroneous  vipwa 
and  decisions,  established  by  tho  Hou.^e  of  Lo^l»  in  1865  in  th« 
case  of  tho  Mersey  docks.  Tim  only  occupier  exempt  from  tho 
operation  of  the  Act  of  Eii/Jibeth  is  the  crown,  on  tho  general  prin» 
ciple  that  such  liabilities  are  not  imposed  on  the  sovereign  unless 
cxpres^lv  mentioned,  and  that  principle  applies  to  tho  direct  umf 
immediuto  servants  of  tho  crown,  whoso  oecupatiou  ia.the  occi'im' 


480 


POOR     LARA'S 


tionof  the  crown  itself.  If  tlierels  a^personal  private  beneficial  ' 
occupation,  so  that  the  occupation  is  by  the  subject,  that  occupa-, 
tion  is  rateable.  Thus  for  apartments  in  a  royal  palace,  gratui- 
tously assigned  to  a  subject,  who  occupies  tliem  by  permission  of 
the  sovereign  but  for  the  subject's  benefit,  the  latter  is  rateable  ; 
ou  the  other  hand,  where  a  lease  of  private  property  is  taken  in 
the  name  of  a  subject,  but  the  occupation  is  by  the  sovereign  or 
licr  subjects  on  her  behalf,  no  rate  can  be  imposed. 

So  far  the  ground  of  exemption  is  perfectly  intelligible,  Ijut  it 
has  been  c.nrried  a  good  deal  further,  and  applied  to  many  cases  in 
which  it  can  scarcely  be  said  naturally,  but  only  theoretically,  that 
the  sovereign  or  the  servants  of  the  sovereign  are  in  occupation. 
A  long  series  of  eases  have  established  that  when  property  is  occu- 
pied for  the  purposes  of  the  government  of  the  country,  including 
under  that  head  the  police,  and  the  administration  of  justice,  no 
one  is  rateable  in  respect  of  such  occupation.  And  this  applies  not 
only  to  property  occupied  for  such  purposes  by  the  servants  of  the 
great  departments  of  state  and  the  post  office,  the  Horse  Guards,  and 
the  Admiralty,  in  all  which  cases  the  occupiers  might  strictly  be 
called  the  servants  of  the  crown,  but  to  county  buildings  occupied 
for  the  assizes  and  for  the  judge's  lodgings,  to  stations  for  the  local 
constabulary,  to  jails,  and  to  county  courts  where  undertakings 
are  carried  out  by  or  for  the  Government  and  the  Government  is  in 
occupation ;  the,  same  principles  of  exemption  have  been  applied 
lo  property  held  by  the  oflice  of  works. 

When  the  property  is  not  de  facto  occupied  by  the  crown  or  for 
the  crown,  it  is'rateable ;  and,  although  formerly  the  uses  of  property 
for  public  purposes,  even  where  the  cro\vn  was  not  constructively 
interested  in  the  way  above  pointed  out,  was  treated  as  a  ground 
for  exemption,  it  is  now  settled  that  trustees  who  are  in  law  the 
tenants  and  occupiers  of  valuable  property  in  trust  for  public  and 
even  charitable  purposes,  such  as  hospitals  or  lunatic  asylums,  are 
in  principle  rateable  notwithstanding  that  the  buildings  are 
actually  occupied  by  paupers  who  are  sick  or  insane,  and  that  the 
notion  that  persons  in  the  legal  occupation  of  valuable  property  are 
not  rateable  if  they  occupy  in  a  merely  fiduciary  character  cannot 
be  sustained. 

■\Vith  respect  to  tbe  particular  person  to  be  rated  where  there  is 
a  rateable  occupation,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the  tenant,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  landlord,  is  the  person  to  be  rated  under  the 
statute  of  Elizabeth  ;  but  occupiers  of  tenements  let  for  short  terms 
may  deduct  the  poor-rate  paid  by  thcra  from  -their  rents,  or  the 
Testries  may  order  such  owners  to  be  rated  instead  of  the  occupiers  ; 
such  payments  or  deductions  do  not  affect  qualification  and  fran- 
chises depending  on  rating  (Poor-Kate  Assessment  and  Collection 
Act,  1869,  and  Amendmeht  Act,  1882). 

To  be  rated  the  occupation  mujt  be  such  as  to  be  of  value,  and 
in  this  sense  the  word  beneficial  occupation  has  been  used  in  many 
cases.  But  it  is  not  necessary  that  tlie  occupation  should  be  bene- 
ficial to  the  occupier  ;  for,  if  that  were  necessary,  trustees  occupying 
for  various  purposes,  having  no  beneficial.occupation,  would  not  be 
liable,  and  their  general  liability  has  been  established  as  indicated 
in  the  examples  just  given. 

As  to  the  mode  and  amount  of  rating  it  is  no  exaggeration  to 
say  that  the  application  of  a  landlord-and-tenant  valuation  in  the 
terras  already  given  in  the  Parochial  Assessment  Act,  with  the 
deductions  there  mentioned,  has  given  rise  to  litigation  on  which 
millons  of  pounds  have  been  spent  within  the  last  half  century, 
with  respect  to  the  rating  of  railways  alone,  although  the  established 
principle  applied  to  them,  after  much  consideration,  is  to  calculate 
the  value  of  the  land  as  increased  by  the  line. 

Tlie  Parochial  Assessment  Act  referred  to  (6  &  7  Will.  IV.  'c.  96), 
comprising  various  provisions  as  to  the  mode  of  assessing  the  rate 
so  fai-  as  it  authorized  the  making  of  a  valuation,  was  repealed  in 
1869,  in  relation  to  the  metropolis,  and  other  provisions  made  for 
securing  uniformity  of  the  assessment  of  rateable  property  there 
(32  &  33  Vict.  c.  67). 

The  mode  in  which  a  rate  is  made  and  recovered  may  be  concisely 
stated  thus.  The  guardians  appoint  an  assessment  committee  of 
their  body  for  the  investigation  and  supervision  of  valuations,  which 
are  made  out  in  the  fii'st  instance  bythe  overseers  according  to  specific 
regulations  and  in  a  form  showing  among  other  headings  the  gross 
estimated  rental  of  all  property  and  the  names  of  occupiers  and 
owners,  and  the  rateable'value  after  the  deductions  specified  in  the 
Assessment  Act  already  mentioned,  and  as  prescribed  by  the  central 
board.  This  valuation  list,  made  and  signed  by  the  overseers,  is 
published,  and  all  persons  assessed  or  liable  to  be  assessed,  and  other 
interested  parties,  may,  iuchidiug  the  officers  of  other  parishes, 
inspect  and  take  copies  of  and  extracts  from  that  list.  A  multitude 
of  provisions  exist  in  relation  to  the  valuation  and  supplemsntal 
valuation  lists.  Objections  on  the  ground  of  unfairness  or  incorrect- 
heas  are  dealt  mth  by  the  committee,  who  hold  meetings  to  hear 
and  determine  such  objections.  The  valuation  list,  where  appi-oved 
by  the  committee,  is  delivered  to  the  overseers,  who  proceed  to 
make  the  rate  in  accordance  with  the  valuation  lists  and  in  a 
prescribed  form  of  rate  book.  The  parish  officers  certify  to  the 
examination  and  comparison  of  the  rate  book  with  the  assessments. 


and-obtaiu  the  consent  of  juslices  as  reqifired  by  tlio  statute 
Elizabeth.  This  consent  or  allowance  tsf  the  rate  is  merely  * 
ministerial  act,  and  it  the  rate  is  good  ou  Jbe  faca  of  it  the  justices 
cannot  inquire  into  its  validity.- 
'  ,  The  rate  is  then  published  and  opcn^o  inspection.  -Appeals  may 
be  made  to  special  or  quarter  sessions  against  the  rate,  subject  to  the 
restriction  that,  if  the  objection  were  such  that  it  might  have  been 
dealt  with  on  the  valuation  lists,  no  appeal  to  sessions  is  permitted 
unless  the  valuation  list  had  been  duly  objected  to  and  the  objector 
had  failed  to  obtain  such  relief  in  the  matter  as  ho  deemed  to  bo 
just  (see  Union  Assessment  Acts). 

In  the  metropolis  a  common  basis  of  value  for  the  purposes  of 
government  and  local  taxation  is  provided,  including  the  promoticu 
of  uniformity  in  the  assessment  of  rateable  property.  Provisiou  is 
made  for  the  appointment  of  an  assessment  committee  by  guardians 
or  vestries,  and  for  the  preparation  of  valuation  lists,  and  the 
deposit  ami  distribution  of  valuation  lists,  and  for  the  periodical 
revision  of  valuation  lists.  Appeals  against  the  valuation  list  arc 
heard  by  justices  in  s])ecial  sessions,  upon  whom  special  limited 
powers  are  conferred.  General  assessment  sessions,  principally  for 
appeals  affecting  the  total  of  the  gross  or  rateable  value  of  any 
parish  as  being  too  high  or  too  low  as  compared  with  other  parishes, 
are  appointed  for  hearing  and  determining  appeals,  and  the  lists 
are  altered  in  accordance  with  their  decisions.  Those  decisions 
may  be  questioned  as  in  the  case  of  decisions  by  courts  of  general 
or  quarter  sessions. 

The  valuation  lists  as  approved  by  the  assessment  committee, 
or  as  altered  on  appeal,  last  for  five  years,  and  are  conclusive 
evidence  of  gross  and  rateable  value  for  the  purpose  of  various 
specified  rates,  including  the  poor  rate  ;  and  the  poor  rate  is  made 
by  the  parish  officers  in  accordance  with  such  valuation  according 
to  a  form  provided, — see  Valuation  (Metropolis)  Act,  1869. 

It  is  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  amount  raised  by  poor  rates 
does  not  closely  represent  the  amount  actually  expended  on  the 
relief  of  the  poor.  The  rates  are  made  in  reference  to  the  prospec- 
tive amounts  required,  and  various  payments  not  connected  with 
the  maintenance  of  the  poor  are  charged  by  various  Acts  of  Parlia- 
ment on  the  poor  rate. 

Pa)inent  of  poor  rates,  and  of  the  costs  incurred,  is  enforced  on 
complaints  to  justices,  and  by  disti'ess  warrants  and  imprisonment 
in  default.  Special  statutory  provision  is  made  for  this  mode  of 
recovery. 

In  conclusion,  while  giving  full  credit  to  the  admirable 
way  in  which  the  English  poor-law  system,  and  the  prin- 
ciples on  which  it  is  based,  have  been  and  continue  to  be 
promulgated  and  explained  by  the  central  authority  to  the 
guardians  and  others  concerned  in  the  administration  of 
the  laws  (an  advantage  in  which  poor-law  administration 
stands  out  distinct  from  any  other),  we  must  add  that  a 
consolidation  of  the  statute  law  relating  to  poor  is  much 
needed.  Dr  Burn,  writing  a  hundred  and  twenty  years 
ago,  spoke  thus: — "If  it  maybe  reasonable  to  advance 
further  still  in  speculation,  perhaps  a  time  may  come  when 
it  shall  be  thought  convenient  to  reduce  all  the-  peer  laws 
into  one.  The  laws  concerning  the  poor  may  not  improperly 
be  compared  to  their  apparel.  When  a  flaw  is  observed,  a 
patch  is  provided  for  it,  upon  that  another,  and  so  on,  till 
the  original  coat  is  lost  amidst  a  variety  of  patch-work. 
And  more  labour  and  materials  are  expended  (besides  the 
clumsiness  and  motley  figure)  than  would  have  made  an 
entire  new  suit."  Since  that  remote  day  the  number  of 
statutes  has  increased  notwithstanding  a  multitude  of  re- 
peals. At  the  present  time  the  Acts  of  Parliament  affect- 
ing the  poor  laws  of  England  alone,  exclusive  of  Scotland 
and  Ireland,  number  upwards  of  one  hundred  and  thirty, 
and  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  them  have  originated  since 
the  amendment  of  the  poor  laws  in  1834. 

As  to  poor  laws  in  other  countries,  the  articles  devoted 
to  those  countries  must  be  referred  to.  It  is  to  be  observed 
that  legal  provision  is  made  for  paupers  in  every  part  of 
the  United  States.  The  poor-law  system  which  obtains  in 
the  States  in  its  general  features  is  Similar  to  that  which 
prevails  in  England  so  far  as  regards  the  mode  of  raising 
the  fund  (viz.,  by  way  of  rate)  and  the  class  of  people  to 
whom  relief  is  afforded.  Each  district  (commonly  a  town,- 
county,  or  ciiy) .  provides  for  its  own  poor.  In  some  of 
the  States  paupers  having  no  legal  settlement  are  re- 
lieved by  the  State  Government  (1834).     The  prevalence 


Consoli- 
datioD  ol 
Euglisi 
poor  J«» 
desii»''l- 


P  O  P  —  P  O  P 


481 


of  slavery  io  the  Soutbern  States  until  its  abolition  modi- 
fied the  system  of  relief. 

The  searching  inquiry  into  the  administration  of  the 
poor  laws  in  1832-34  was  not  confined  to  the  United  King- 
dom or  to  the  States  of  America.  Returns  were  obtained 
through  the  foreign  ministers,  and  the  result  as  to  Europe 
is  thus  comprehensively  stated  by  Nassau  Senior  in  1835: 
"A  legal  claim  to  relief  exists  in  Norway,  Sweden,  Rus- 
sia, Denmark,  Jlecklenburg,  Prussia,  Wurtcmberg,  Bavaria, 
and  the  canton  of  Bern,  but  does  riot  exist  in  the  Hanse- 
atic  towns,  Holland,  Belgium,  France,  Portugal,  the  Sar- 
dinian states,  Frankfort,  Venice,  Greece,  or  Turkey."  In 
the  north  of  Europe  the  great  peculiarity  of  the  system  is 
stated  to  be  "  the  custom  of  affording  relief  by  quartering 
the  paupers  on  the  landholders  in  the  country  and  on  house- 
holders in  the  towns."  Senior  arrived  at  the  conclusion 
that,  in  those  portions  of  the  Continent  in  which  the  Eng- 
lish principle  of  acknowledging  in  every  person  a  right  to 
be  supported  by  the  public  existed,  the  compulsory  relief 
had  not,  except  perhaps  in  the  canton  of  Bern,  produced 
evils  resembling  either  in  intensity  or  extent  those  then 
experienced  in  the  United  Kingdom,  and  that  in  the  major- 
ity of  the  nations  that  had  adopted  it  the  existing  system 
appeared  to  work  well.  The  poor  laws  of  Russia,  however, 
if  -they  could  be  called  poor  laws,  were  merely  parts  of  her 
system  of  slavery. 

The  absence  of  poor  laws  in  France,  and  the  charitable 
establishments,  maftiy  of  them  under  state  management, 
are  noticed  in  the  article  France.  Senior  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  the  comprehensive  and  discriminate  system 
of  public  relief  established  in  France  in  relation  to  these 
institutions  was  not  so  complete  as  in  Belgium.  For  the 
poor  there  see  Belgium,  where  benevolent  and  charitable 
institutions  and  hospitals,  charity  workshops  and  depots  of 
mendicity  or  workhouses,  and  the  bureaux  de  bienfaisance 
are  noticed.  The  power  of  expulsion  pour  vagabondage 
exercised  as  a  matter  of  daily  routine  in  France  operates 
as  a  restraint  on  vagrancy,  although  having  a  wider  range 
than  the  English  vagrancy  laws.  The  majority  of  the 
indigent  who  receive  public  relief  in  France  are  foreigners. 

The  beneficent,  including  eleemosynary,  institutions  of 
united  Italy  are  treated  of  under  that  head  in  Italy. 

The  "pauper  colonies"  of  Holland,  established  in  the 
first  quarter  of  the  present  century  (the  first  idea  of  which 
seems  to  have  been  derived  from  a  colony  of  Chinese  in 
Java),  attracted  public  attention  in  England  and  Europe 
generally  about  the  time  the  provision  for  the  poor  and 
the  administration  of  the  poor  laws  were  under  considera- 
tion, iminediately  before  their  reform  in  1834.  The  object 
of  the  institutions  in  Holland  was  to  remove  those  persons 
whoiwere  a  burden  to  society  to  the  poorest  waste  land.s, 
where  under  judicious  regulations  they  were  enabled  to  the 
number  of  many  thousands  to  provide  for  their  own  sub- 
sistence. It  is  remarkable  that  various  schemes  put  forth 
in  the  17th  and  18th  centuries  for  the  reform  of  the  British 
poor  laws  already  cited  teem  with  comparisons  favourable 
to  Holland.  Sir  Matthew  Hale  refers  to  the  industry  and 
orderly  management  prevailing  in  Holland  and  Flanders. 
Sir  J.  Child  and  others  do  the  like. 

Amonj;  various  works  on  poor  liiw.s  sco  Burn's  History  and  tlio 
modern  work  of  Sir  G.  Nicholls;  Nassau  Senior's  Poor  Laws  of 
European  Slates ;  Const's  and  Davis'a  treatises ;  Glen's  Poor-law 
Orders  ;  Reyorts  of  Poor-Law  Commissioners  ;  Reports  of  Poor-Law 
and  Local  Government  Boards  from  1834.  (J.  K  D. ) 

POPAYAN,  a  city  of  the  republic  of  Colombia,  capital 
of  the  stato  of  Cauca,  is  situated  in  2°  2G'  N.  lat.  and 
76°  49'  W.  long.,  at  a  height  of  5948  feet  (E.  AndrtS  187C), 
on  the  banks  of  one  of  the  head  streams  of  tlio  Cauca  in 
the  great  plain  in  the  heart  of  the  cordillcras.  It  was 
founded  by  Belalcazar  in  1538  on  the  site  of  an  Indian 
settlement,  and  in  1558  it  received  a  coat  of  arms  from  the 


king  of  Spain  and  the  title  of  "Muy  noble  y  muy  leal." 
Pope  Paul  III.  made  it  a  bishop's  see  in  1547.  By  means 
of  its  gold  mines  and  its  share  in  the  commerce  between 
Quito  and  the  valley  of  the  !Magdalena  Popayan  became  a 
largo  and  flourishing  city ;  but  political  disturbances  and 
earthquakes  (1827  and  1834)  have  reduced  it  to  a  place 
of  7000  to  10,000  inhabitants  (8485  in  1870).  It  has 
a  cathedral  built  by  the  Jesuits,  several  considerable 
churches,  two  seminaries  founded  about  1870  by  French 
Lazarists  (who  occupy  and  have  restored  the  old  Jesuit 
convent),  a  mint,  and  a  bank.  The  university  was  at  one 
time  celebrated ;  and  the  city  is  the  birthplace  of  Caldas 
the  astronomer  and  Mosquera  the  geographer. 

The  volcano  of  Purace,  20  miles  south-east  of  the  town,  had 
according  to  Caldas  a  height  of  17, 000  feet,  but  Andre's  measurement 
gave  only  16,102  feet.  From  a  vent  6  feet  across  at  a  height  of 
14,970  feet  (Boussingault,  1831)  steam  and  gas  are  discharged  with 
violence  snfficient  to  blow  a  man  away  like  a  straw.  On  the  flanks 
of  the  mountain  are  several  hot  sulphurous  springs  and  those  of 
Coconuco  are  frequented  by  the  Colombians. 

POPE  is  the  name  given  in  England  to  a  small  fresh- 
water perch  (Acerina  cernua),  also  called  Ruffe,  which  is 
generally  distributed  in  the  rivers  of  central  Europe  and 
common  in  most  fresh  waters  of  England.  It  was  first 
made  known  by  Dr  Caius,  a  keen  observer  who  lived  in 
the  middle  of  the  16th  century,  and  is  well  known  by  his 
work  De  Canibus  Biitannicis.  He  found  the  fish  in  the 
river  Yar,  and  figured  it  under  the  name  of  Aspredo,  the 
Latin  translation  of  ruffe,  which  name  refers  to  the  re- 
markable roughness  of  the  scales  with  which  it  is  covered. 
In  general  structure,  shape,  and  habits  the  pope  resembles 
much  the  common  perch,  but  rarely  exceeds  a  length  of 
seven  inches,  and  differs  in  its  coloration,  which  is  olive- 
brown  with  irregular  darker  spots  on  the  body  and  numerous 
blackish  dots  on  the  dorsal  and  caudal  fins.  It  is  most 
destructive  to  the  fry  of  other  fish,  but  in  many  parts  of 
the  country  is  esteemed  as  food.  It  spawns  generally  in 
the  month  of  April. 

POPE,  Alexander  (1688-1744),  was  the  most  famous 
English  poet  of  his  century.  His  own  century  dwelt  most 
upon  his  merits;  the  19th  century  is  disposed  rather  to 
dwell  upon  his  defects,  both  as  a  poet  and  as  a  man,  with 
a  persistency  and  minuteness  that  more  than  counter- 
balance any  exaggeration  in  the  estimate  formed  when  it 
was  the  fashion  to  admire  his  verse  and  treat  his  moral 
obliquity  as  a  foible.  Substantially,  the  best  judgment  of 
the  two  centuries  is  at  one,  only  different  sides  are  pro- 
minent in  the  bulk  of  current  criticism.  All  are  agreed 
that  he  was  not  a  poet  of  the  first  rank,  and  nobody  can 
deny  that  he  did  certain  things  in  literature  in  a  way 
that  has  been  the  despair  of  all  who  have  since  attempted 
the  same  kind  of  thing.  Tho  groat  point  of  difference 
lies  in  the  importance  to  be  assigned  to  such  work  as 
Pope's  satires.  The  polemic  against  his  title  to  tho  name 
of  poet  would  be  contemptible  were  it  not  that  beneath 
the  dispute  about  tho  name  there  is  a  desire  to  impress  on 
tho  public  a  respect  for  the  highest  kinds  of  poetry.  Tho 
19th  century  takes  tho  poet's  mission  more  seriously  than 
tho  18th.  Similarly  with  Pope's  moral  delinquencies. 
With  tho  exception  of  some  details  recently  brought  to 
light  with  an  industry  worthy  of  a  better  subject,  his  con- 
temporaries were  as  well  aware  of  these  delinquencies  as 
wo  are  now,  only  none  but  his  bitter  enemies  wcro  so 
earnest  in  denouncing  them.  "In  this  design,"  Johnson 
says  in  his  comments  on  tho  Dunciad,  "there  wa-s  petulanco 
and  malignity  enough,  but  I  cannot  think  it  very  criminal." 
And  this  was  tho  general  verdict  of  liis  contcmporurics 
about  tlio  poet's  moral  weakness.  They  knew  that  he  was 
insincere,  intriguing,  touchy,  and  spiteful,  but,  as  nobody 
was  nuicli  harmed  I'V  his  conduct,  they  could  not  think  it 
very  criminal.     Perhaps  his  physical  weakness  made  them 

XIX.  —  6i 


482 


J:-  0  P  E 


more  indulgent  to  his  elfish  and  sprite-like  temper.  But, 
apart  from  tliis,  intriguing  was  the  way  of  Lis  world,  a 
fact  too  much  kept  out  of  sight  when  Pope  is  denounced 
for  his  crooked  ways  in  little  matters,  as  if  he  had  lived  in 
our  own  straightforward  and  virtuous  age. 

If  we  are  to  judge  Pope,  whether  as  a  man  or  as  a  poet, 
with  human  fairness,  and  not  merely  by  comparison  with 
standards  of  abstract  perfection,  there  are  two  features  of 
his  times  that  must  be  kept  steadily  in  view — the  character 
of  political  strife  in  those  days,  and  the  political  relations 
of  men  of  letters.  As  long  as  the  succession  to  the  crown 
was  doubtful,  and  political  failure  might  mean  loss  of 
property,  banishment,  or  death,  politicians,  playing  for 
Jiightr  stakes,  played  more  fiercely  and  unscrupulously  than 
in  modern  days,  and  there  was  no  controlling  force  of 
public  opinion  to  keep  them  within  the  bounds  of  common 
honesty.  Hence  the  age  of  Queen  Anne  is  pre-eminently 
an  age  of  intrigue.  The  government  was  almost  as  un- 
settled as  in  the  early  days  of  personal  monarchy,  and 
there  was  this  difTerence  that  it  was  policy  rather  than 
force  upon  which  men  depended  for  keeping  their  position. 
Secondly,  men  of  letters  were  admitted  to  the  inner  circles 
of  intrigue  as  they  had  never  been  before  and  as  they 
have  never  been  since.  A  generation  later  Walpole  defied 
them,  and  paid  tkfi  rougher  instruments  that  he  considered 
sufficient  for  his  purpose  in  solid  coin  of  the  realm ;  but 
Queen  Anne's  statesmen,  whether  from  difference  of  tastes 
or  difference  of  policy,  paid  their  principal  literai-y 
champions  with  social  privileges  and  honourable  public 
appointments.  Hence  men  of  letters  were  directly  in- 
fected by  the  low  political  morality  of  the  unsettled  time. 
And  the  character  of  their  poetry  also  suffered.  The 
most  prominent  defects  of  our  Augustan  age  in  19th- 
century  eyes — the  lack  of  high  and  sustained  imagination, 
the  genteel  liking  for  "  nature  to  advantage  dressed,"  the 
incessant  striving  after  wit — were  fostered  if  not  generated 
by  the  social  atmosphere.  The  works  of  the  serious 
imagination  could  not  thrive  in  a  fashionable  society, 
feverishly  interested  in  the  daily  chances  of  intrigue  for 
place  and  power. 

Pope  was  peculiarly  fitted  by  nature  to  take  the  im- 
press of  his  surroundings — plastic,  sensitive,  eagerly 
covetous  of  approbation.  Affection  and  admiration  were 
as  necessary  to  his  life  as  the  air  he  breathed.  "  Pope  was 
from  his  birth,"  Johnson  says,  "of  a  constitution  tender 
and  delicate,  but  is  seid  to  have  shown  remarkable  gentle- 
ness and  sweetness  of  disposition.  The  weakness  of  his 
body  continued  through  his  life ;  but  the  mildness  of  his 
mind  perhaps  ended  with  his  childhood."  Perhaps ;  but 
certainly  to' a  much  loss  degree  with  the  friends  who  loved 
and  honoured  him.  With  them  he  was  always  more  or  less 
sweet  and  docile;  his  petulance  and  malignity  were 
directed  as  by  an  instinct  of  self-preservation  against  those 
who  baulked  him  in  his  craving  for  admiration,  a  spiritual 
food  literally  and  physically  essential  to  the  sustenance  of 
Afe  fragile  being. 

If  Pope  had  been  a  man  of  more  robust  and  self-suffic- 
ing constitution,  he  had  one  great  advantage  for  resisting 
the  spirit  of  his  age.  He  was  cut  off  by  the  religion  of 
his  parents  from  all  public  employment.  His  father  was  a 
Roman  Catholic,  a  merchant  in  Lombard  Street.i  London, 
who  retired  from  business  with  a  small  fortune  in  the  year 
of  the  Eevolution,  and  fixed  his  residence  at  Binfield  in 
Windsor  Forest.     Pope  was  born  at  Lombard  Street  on 

^  According  to  his  own  statement  to  Spence,  his  "  Conversations  " 
with  whom  are  the  chief  authority  for  all  the  incidents  of  his  youth. 
The  value  of  tlic  authority  is  much  suspected.  "  He  was  more  willing 
to  show  what  Ms  father  was  not  than  what  he  was,"  and  Johnson 
accepted  Jhe  statement  that  he  was  "a  linen-draper  in  the  Strand." 
Pope's  vanity  also  renders  doubtful  in  some  details  what  he  says 
about  his  own  precocity. 


May  22,  1688,  but  his  father's  retirement  to  Binfield 
took  place  soon  after  his  birth.  The  delicate  child's  book 
education  was  desultory  and  irregular.  His  father's 
religion  excluded  him  from  the  public  schools,  if  there  was 
no  other  impediment  to  his  being  sent  there.  Before  he 
was  twelve  he  got  a  smattering  of  Latin  and  Greek  from 
various  masters,  from  a  priest  in  Hampshire,  from  a 
schoolmaster  at  Twyford  near  Winchester,  from  another 
in  Marylebone,  from  a  third  at  Hyde  Park  Corner,  and 
finally  from  another  priest  at  home.  "  He  thought  him-, 
self  the  better,"  Spence  says,  "in  some  respects  for  not 
having  had  a  regular  education.  He  (as  he  observed  in 
particular)  read  originally  for  the  sense,  whereas  we  are 
taught  for  so  many  years  to  read  only  for  words."  This 
helps  to  explain  his  attack  on  Bentley  in  the  Dunciad. 
He  afterwards  learnt  French  and  Italian,  probably  to  a 
similar  extent.  As  far  as  the  sense  was  concerned,  he 
could  get  ■&  dilution  of  that  at  least  in  translations,  for  all 
poets  of  note — Greek,  Latin,  French,  and  Italian— had  been 
translated  into  English  verse  in  the  course  of  the  previous 
century.  Of  these  translations  the  precocious  boy  availed 
himself  voraciously,  and  by  the  age  of  twelve,  when  he 
was  finally  settled  at  home  and  left  to  himself,  he  was  not 
only  a  confirmed  reader,  but  an  eager  aspirant  to  the  high- 
est honours  in  poetry.  When  at  school  in  London  he 
had  crept  into  Will's  coffee-house  to  look  at  Dryden ;  he 
had  lampooned  his  schoolmaster,  and  made  a  play  out  of 
Ogilby's  Hiad  for  his  schoolfellows ;  and,  thiniing  him- 
self the  greatest  genius  that  ever  was,  he  retired  to  the 
solitude  of  the  forest  to  write  a  great  epic  on  a  mytho- 
logical subject,  his  hero  being  Alcander,  a  prince  of 
Rhodes. 

Nothing  of  Pope's  was  printed  till  1709,  when  he  was 
twenty-one.  The  detachment  from  contemporary  life  in 
London  which  his  father's  religion  and  retirement  might 
have  occasioned  was  prevented  by  one  of  the  accidents 
of  that  position.  Fortunately  or  unfortunately  for  him, 
th6r«  were  among  the  Papist  families  near  Binfield  men 
capable  of  giving  a  direction  to  his  eager  ambition,  men 
of  literary  tastes,  and  connexions  with  the  literary  world. 
These  families  held  together  as  persecuted  sects  always 
do,  and  the  family  priests  were  mediums  of  communica- 
tion. 

Through  some  such  medium  the  retired  merchant's  pre- 
cocious son  was  brought  under  the  notice  of  Sir  William 
Trumbull,  a  retired  diplomatist  lining  at  Easthampstead, 
within  a  few  miles  of  Binfield.  At  Whiteknights,  near 
Reading,  lived  another  Roman  CathoKc,  Mr  Englefield, 
"  a  great  lover  of  poets  and  poetry."  Through  him  Pope 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Wycherley  and  Harry  Cromwell, 
and  Wycherley  introduced  him  to  Walsh,  then  of  great 
renown  as  a  critic.  Thus  the  aspiring  poet,  before  he  was 
seventeen,  was  admitted  to  the  society  of  London  "  wito  " 
and  men  of  fashion,  and  he  was  cordially  encouraged  as 
a  prodigy.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  the  company  of 
these  veteran  relics  of  Restoration  manners  was  much  for 
the  benefit  of  the  moral  tone  of  the  bookish  youth,  who 
learnt  from  them  to  speak  and  write  of  the  fair  sex  ■ndth 
a  very  knowing  air  of  rakish  gaiety.  But  he  discussed 
poetry  also  with  them,  as  was  then  the  fashion,  and  soon 
under  their  influence  his  own  vague  aspirations  received 
shape  and  direction. 

Walsh's  contribution  to  his  development  was  the  ad\ice 
to  study  "correctness,"  as  the  one  merit  that  was  still 
possible  for  an  English  poet.  But  before  he  was  intro- 
duced to  Walsh,  which  vs-as  in  1705,  he  had  already 
written  the  first  draft  of  his  "  Pastorals,"  a  subject  on  which 
Walsh  was  an  authority,  having  written  the  preface  to 
Drj'den's  translation  of  Virgil's  Eclogues.  Trumbull's 
influence  was  earlier  and  more  extensive.     For.hira  may* 


i 
I 


POPE 


483 


fairly  he  claimed  tlie  credit  of  having  been  Pope's  scliool- 
master  in  poetry.  It  was  he  who  turned  Pope's  attention 
to  the  French  critics,  out  of  the  study  of  whom  grew  the 
fc'.swy  OH  Ciilicism  ;  he  suggested  the  subject  of  Windsor 
Fores/,  and  he  started  the  idea  of  translating  Homer. 
When  Trumbull  first  saw  the  precocious  boy,  he  was  hard 
It  work  on  his  great  epic.  He  had  probably  chosen  his 
aabjcct  on  the  first  impulses  of  his  crude  ambition,  because 
it  was  an  established  maxim  at  the  time  thot  a  great  epic 
is  the  greatest  work  of  which  the  human  mind  is  capable. 
It  says  something  for  Pope's  docility  at  this  stage  that  he 
recogaizcd  so  soon  that  a  long  course  of  preparation  was 
peeded  for  such  a  magnum  o]>us,  and  began  steadily  and 
patiently  to  discipline  himself.  The  epic  was  put  aside 
and  afterwards  burnt ;  versification  was  industriously 
practised  in  shorter  "  essays " ;  and  an  elaborate  stud) 
was  made  of  accepted  critics  and  models.  Wicn  we  lool- 
at  the  subjects  of  Pope's  juvenile  attempts,  we  cannot  fail 
to  be  struck  by  a  singular  clearness  of  purpose  in  his 
poetic  ambition,  such  as  might  have  come  from  the 
judgment  of  the  accomplished  man  of  the  world  who  was 
his  adviser.  He  not  only  chose  kinds  of  poetry  in  which 
there  was  an  interest  at  the  time,  and  a  consequent  like- 
lihood of  gaining  attention  and  winning  applause,  but  he 
had  an  eye  to  subjects  that  had  not  already  been  appro- 
priated by  great  English  poets,  and  in  which  success  was 
still  open  to  all  comers.  At  the  beginning  of  the  18th 
century  Dryden's  success  had  given  great  vogue  to  trans- 
lations and  modernizations.  The  air  was  full  of  theories 
as  to  the  best  way  of  doing  such  things.  What  Drydtn 
had  touched  Pope  did  not  presume  to  meddle  with, — 
Dryden  was  his  hero  and  master;  but  there  was  much 
more  of  the  same  kind  to  be  done.  Dryden  had  rewritten 
three  of  the  Canterbury  tales  ;  Pope  tried  his  hand  at  the 
Merchant's  Tale,  and  the  Prologue  to  the  Wife  of  Bath's 
Tale,  and  produced  also  an  imitation  of  the  House  of 
Fanie.  Dryden  had  translated  Virgil ;  Pope  experimented 
on  the  Thebais  of  Statins,  Ovid's  I/eroides  and  Metamor- 
p/ioses,  and  the  Odt/ssey.  He  knew  little  Latin  and  less 
Greek,  but  there  were  older  versions  in  English  whose 
metre  ho  could  improve  upon  and  front  which  he  could 
get  a  clue  to  the  sense  ;  and,  when  the  correspondents  to 
whom  he  submitted  his  versions  pointed  out  mistransla- 
tions, he  'could  answer  that  he  had  always  agreed  with 
them,  but  that  he  had  deferred  to  the  older  translators 
against  his  own  judgment.  It  was  one  of  Pope's  little 
vanities — very  venial  in  a  nature  requiring  such  support 
—to  try  to  give  the  impression  that  his  metrical  skill  was 
■more  precocious  even  than  it  was,  and  we  cannot  accept 
Ilia  published  versions  of  Statins  and  Chaucor  (published 
in  "miscellanies"  at  intervals  between  1709  and  1714)  as 
indisputable  evidence  of  his  proficiency  at  the  age  of 
fifteen  or  sixteen,  the  date,  according  to  his  own  assertion, 
of  their  composition.  But  it  is  indisputable  that  at  the 
age  of  sixteon  his  skill  in  verse  was  such  as  to  astonish  a 
Veteran  critic  like  Walsh,  and  that  his  verses  were  handed 
about  in  manuscript  and  admired  by  men  then  in  the 
foremost  rank  in  literature.  There  is  no  better  proof  of 
his?  dexterity  than  his  imitations,  or  rather  parodies,  of 
Chaucer,  Spencer,  Rochester,  and  Dorset,  though  dexterity 
05  their  only  merit.  His  metrical  letter  to  Cromwell, 
Which  Mr  Elwin  dates  in  1707,  when  Pope  was  nineteen; 
is  also  a  brilliant  feat  of  versification,  and  has  turns  of 
Wit  in  it  as  easy  and  spirited  as  any  to  be  found  in  his 
mature  satires.  Pope  was  twenty-one  when  he  sent  the 
"  Ode  to  Solitude"  to  Cromwell,  and  said  it  was  written 
before  he  was  twelve  years  old.  He  may  have  retouched 
this ;  in  all  probability  he  did  ;  perhaps  every  lino  of  it 
was  written  when  ho  was  twenty-one ;  but  there  is  abund- 
Hace^of  external  evidence  of .  his  extraordinary  precocity 


as  a  metrician.  (He  was  vain  enough  to  try  to  make  it 
appear  still  more  extraordinary  than  it  was ;  but  the 
attempt  was  hardly  more  puerile  and  comically  superfluous 
than  the  solemn  efforts  of  criticism  to  reduce  his  preten- 
sions. They  are  too  solidly  founded  to  be  shaken  either 
by  his  own  vain  superstructure  or  by  the  outraged  critic's 
vindictive  undermining. 

Precocious  Pope  was  but  he  was  also  industrious ;  and 
he  spent  some  eight  or  nine  years  in  arduous  and  enthusi- 
astic discipline,  reading,  studying,  experimenting,  taking 
the  advice  of  some  and  laughing  in  his  sleeve  at  the 
advice  of  others,  "poetry  his  only  business,"  he  said, 
"and  idleness  his  only  pleasure,"  before  anything  of  his 
appeared  in  print.  In  these  preliminary  studies  he  seems 
to  have  guided  himself  by  the  maxim  formulated  (after  a 
French  model)  in  a  letter  to  Walsh  (written  at  the  date  he 
gives,  or  later)  that  "  it  seems  not  so  much  the  perfection 
of  sense  to  say  things  that  have  never  been  said  before,  as 
to  express  those  best  that  have  been  said  oftcnest."  His 
first  publication  was  his  "  Pastorals."  Tonson  the  bookseller 
bad  heard  these  pastorals  highly  spoken  of,  and  he  sent  a 
polite  note  to  Pope  asking  that  he  might  have  them  for 
one  of  his  miscellanies.  They  appeared  accordingly  in 
May  1709  at  the  end  of  a  volume  containing  contributions 
from  Philips,  Sheffield,  Garth,  and  Rowe,  besides  Pope's 
version  of  Chaucer's  Merchant's  Tale.  We  have  not  space 
to  show  what  can  be  said  on  both  sides  about  these 
artificial  compositions,  avowedly  designed  to  represent  the 
manners  of  an  imaginary  golden  age,  when  men  of  "  wit 
and  refinement  "  were  shepherds.  The  worst  that  can  be 
said  of  them  was  said  by  implication  in  the  Guardian  in 
1713,  when  a  case,  which  was  afterwards  justified  by 
Allan  Ramsay,  was  made  out  for  the  representation  of 
real  English  country  life.  Johnson,  though  he  did  not 
approve  of  pastorals  in  the  abstract,  said  a  word  of 
common  sense  against  exaggerated  depreciation  of  Pope's 
attempt.  Few  persons  are  likely  nowadays  to  put  them- 
selves in  a  position  for  making  a  fair  historical  estimate 
of  Pope's  pastorals.  There  was  a  passing  fashion  for  the 
kind  of  thing  at  the  time,  and  possibly  he  wrote  them 
under  the  impression  that  they  offered  a  new  field  for 
poetic  ambition  in  English,  not  knowing  or  forgetting 
what  had  been  done  by  Giles  Fletcher  and  Milton.  Or 
lie  may  have  thought  that  a  great  ix)et  should  begin  as 
Virgil  began  with  pastorals.  At  any  rate  his  pastorals, 
though  Johnson  was  right  in  remarking  the  "  closeness  of 
thought "  shown  in  their  composition,  cannot  be  ranked 
high  as  poetry,  however  much  superior  to  everything  els«i 
written  in  a  passing  fashion. 

Pope's  next  publication  was  the  Essay  cm  Criticism. 
"  In  every  work  regard  the  writer's  end,"  is  one  of  its  sen- 
sible precepts,  and  one  that  is  often  neglected  by  critics 
of  the  essay,  who  comment  upon  it  as  if  Pope's  end  had 
been  to  produce  an  original  and  profound  treatise  on  first 
principles.  His  aim  was  much  less  lofty — being  simply 
to  condense,  methodize,  and  give  as  perfect  and  novel  ex- 
pression as  he  could  to  floating  opinions  about  the  poet's 
aims  and  methods,  and  the  critic's  duties,_to  "what  oft 
W'Oa  thought  but  ne'er  so  well  expressed."  "  The  town  " 
was  interested  in  Mies  httrcs,  and  given  to  conversing  on 
the  subject ;  Pope's  essay  was  simply  a  brilliant  contribu- 
tion to  the  fashionable  conversation.  The  youthful  author 
said  with  delicious  loftiness  that  he  did  not  expect  the 
sale  to  bo  quick  because  "not  one  gentleman  in  sixty, 
even  of  liberal  education,  could  understand  it."  Put  ht 
misjudged  his  audience.  The  town  was  fairly  dazzled  by 
it — such  learning,  such  comprehensiveness  of  judgment, 
such  felicity  of  cxjircssion,  was  indeed  a  marvel  in  one  bo 
young.  Many  of  its  admirers,  doubtless,  like  Lady  Mary 
Montague, .would..havo  thought  leas  of  it  if  they  had  nol 


484 


POPE 


ibeiieved  all  the  maxims  to  be  original ;  but  people  of 
Ifasbion  are  seldom  wide  readers,  and  they  gave  Pope 
credit  for  much  that  they  might  have  found,  where  he 
found  it,  in  Quintilian,  Rapin,  and  Bossu.  "  The  truth 
is,"  Mr  Elwin  says,  "that  Addison,  by  his  encomiums 
and  authority,  brought  into  vogue  the  exaggerated  esti- 
mate entertained  of  the  essay."  Nothing  could  be  more 
preposterously  far  from  "  the  truth." 

)  A  better  illustration  could  not  be  found  of  the  critical 
vice  that  Pope  censures  of  "  forming  short  ideas  "  by 
attending  to  parts  to  the  neglect  of  the  whole.  If  the 
whole  of  Addison's  paper  is  read,  it  stands  out  in  its  true 
colours  as  a  kindly  gentle  attempt  to  tlirow  cold  water  on 
the  enthusiasm  alsout  a  work  which  had  been  published 
for  some  months  and  was  already,  as  the  paper  admits, 
"highly  esteemed  by  the  best  judges. "  It  is  "  a  master- 
piece in  its  kind " ;  but  people  expect  too  much  from 
the  kind — originality,  for  instance.  And  again,  it  is  "  a 
masterpiece  in  its  kind,"  worthy  of  a  place  beside  Roscom- 
mon's Essay  on  Translated  Verse  and  Mulgrave's  Essay  on 
the  Art  of  Poetry  \  Most  exaggerated  encomiums  these  ! 
How  kindly,  too,  the  paper  opens  by  giving  prominence  to 
trivial  incidents  in  the  essay,  one  or  two  passing  strokes 
of  satire  at  Blackmore  and  Dennis.  Bad  poets  are  givea 
to  detraction ;  they  try  to  raise  themselves  by  pulling 
down  the  reputation  of  their  brothers  in  the  art.  A  third 
of  the  whole  paper  is  devoted  to  warning  the  young  poet 
against  a  spirit  of  envy  and  detraction,  all  because  he  had 
thrown  a  stone  in  passing  at  two  of  the  common  butts  of 
their  generation.  But  this  was  Addison's  kindliness ;  he 
wished  to  give  the  promising  youth  a  lesson  against  a  bad 
habit.  Bead  the  whole  paper  (Spectator,  No.  253)  and 
judge. 

The  Rape  of  the  Loch  in  its  first  form  appeared  in  1712 
in  Linton's  Miscellany ;  the  "  machinery  "  of  sylphs  and 
gnomes  was  an  afterthought,  and  the  poem  was  repub- 
lished as  we  now  have  it  early  in  1714.  This  was  his 
first  poem  written  on  an  inspiration  from  real  life,  from 
nature  and  not  from  books.  A  gentleman  had  in  a  frolic 
surreptitiously  cut  off  a  lock  of  a  youtig  lady's  hair,  and 
the  liberty  had  been  resented ;  Pope  heard  the  story  from 
his  friend  Caryll,  who  suggested  that  it  might  be  a  sub- 
ject for  a  mock-heroic  poem  like  Boileau's  Lutrin.  Pope 
caught  at  the  hint ;  the  mock-heroic  treatment  of  the 
pretty  frivolities  of  fashionable  life  just  suited  his  freakish 
sprightliness  of  wit,  and  his  studies  of  the  grand  epic  at 
the  time  put  him  in  excellent  vein.  The  Bape  of  the 
Loch  is  almost  universally  admitted  to  be  his  masterpiece. 
English  critics  from  his  own  time  to  the  present  have 
tdtapeted  in  lauding  its  airiness,  its  ingenuity^  its  ex- 
quisite finish.  But  M.  Taine's  criticism  shows  how  much 
depends  upon  the  spirit  in  which  such  humorous  trifles 
are  approached.  The  poem  strikes  iL  Taine  as  a  piece  of 
harsh,  scornful,  indelicate  buffoonery,  a  mere  succession  i.f 
oddities  and  contrasts,  of  expressive  figures  unexpected 
and  grinning,  an  example  of  English  insensibility  to 
French  sweetness  and  refinement.  Mr  Leslie  Stephen 
objects  on  somewhat  different  grounds  to  the  poet's  tone 
towards  women.  What  especially  offends  the  French 
critic's  delicate  sense  is  the  bearishness  of  Pope's  laughter 
at  an  elegant  and  beautiful  woman  of  fashion.  Pope  de- 
scribes with  a  grin  of  amusement  all  the  particulars  of 
the  elaborate  toilet  with  which  Belinda  prepared  her 
beauty  for  conquest,  and  all  the  artificial  airs  and  graces 
with  which  she  sought  to  bewitch  the  heart  of  susceptible 
man.  The  Frenchman  listens  without  sympathy,  without 
appreciation,,  with  the  contemptuous  wonder  of  a  well-bred 
man  at  clownish  buffoonery.  What  is  there  to  laugh  at  ? 
Is  she  not  preparing  a  beautiful  picture  ?  She  cannot  do 
this  without  powdera  and  washes  and  paint-pots.     What 


is  there  to  laugh  at  in  this  ?  It  is  mere  matter  of  fact. 
The  entire  surrender  of  the  female  heart  to  little  artifices 
for  little  ends  does  not  apparently  strike  the  Frenchman 
as  ludicrous.  Mr  Stephen's  laughter  is  checked  by  the 
serious  thought  that  this  is  a  misrepresentation  of  women, 
that  women  are  spoken  of  in  the  poem  as  if  they  were 
all  like  Belinda.  But  the  Frenchman  is  not  moved  to 
laughter  at  all;  it  would  seem  as  if  his  delight  in  the 
finished  picture,  the  elegant  graceful  captivating  woman, 
hallowed  every  ingredient  used  in  the  making  of  it.  Such 
are  the  differences  in  national  humour.  With  English 
readers  the  change  of  manners  since  the  fashionable  party 
rowed  up  the  river  to  spend  a  happy  day  at  Hampton  is 
more  likely  to  be  an  obstacle  to  the  enjoyment  of  Pope's 
airy  extravagance. 

In  the  interval  between  the  first  and  the  enlarged 
edition  of  the  Rape  of  the  Loch,  Pope  gave  the  finishing 
touches  to  his  Windsor  Forest,  and  published  it  in  March 
1713,  with  a  flattering  dedication  to  the  secretary  at  war 
and  an  opportune  allusion  to  the  peace  of  Utrecht.  This 
was  a  nearer  approach  to  taking  a  political  side  than  Pope 
had  yet  made.  His  principle  had  been  to  keep  clear  of 
politics,  and  not  to  attach  himself  to  any  of  the  sets  into 
which  literary  men  were  divided  by  party.  Although 
inclined  to  the  Jacobite  party  by  his  religion,  he  was  0)i 
friendly  terms  with  the  Whig  coterie,  so  fiiendly  indeed 
as  to  off'end  some  of  his  co-religionists.  He  had  contri- 
buted his  poem  "  The  Messiah  "  to  the  Spectator ;  he  had 
written  an  article  or  two  in  the  Guardian  ;  and  he  wrote 
a  prologue  for  Addison's  Catn.  But  Pope's  advances  bad 
not  been  received  in  a  way  to  satisfy  a  man  of  his  petulant 
and  exacting  tempef.  Mr  Elwin  is  much  mistaken  in 
supposing  that  Addison  helped  to  bring  Pope  into  notice 
in  the  Spectator.  We  have  seen  how  he  treated  the  Essay 
on  Criticism.  When  the  Rape  of  the  Loch  was  published, 
Addison  is  said  to  have  praised  it  to  Pope  himself  as 
merum  sal,  but  he  was  much  more  guarded  in  the 
Spectator.  There  he  dismissed  one  of  the  gems  of  English 
literature  with  two  sentences  of  patronizing  faint  praise 
to  the  young  poet  whom  he  rejoiced  to  see  getting  on, 
coupled  it  with.  Tickell's  "  Ode  on  the  Prospect  of  Peace," 
and  devoted  the  rest  of  the  article  to  an  elaborate  puff  of 
"the  pastorals  of  Mr  Philips."  We  have  only  to  look  at 
the  shameless  puffery  of  the  members  of  the  little  senate, 
not  only  in  this  article  but  throughout  all  the  periodicals  of 
the  coterie,  to  see  how  little  the  young  Mr  Pope  owed  to 
Addison. 

When  Pope  showed  a  leaning  to  the  Tories  in  Windsor 
Forest,  the  coterie,  so  far  from  helping  him,  made  in- 
sidious war  on  him — not  open  war  but  underhand  war. 
Within  a  few  weeks  of  the  publication  of  the  poem,  and 
when  it  was  the  talk  of  the  town,  there  began  to  appear 
in  the  Guardian  a  series  of  articles  on  "  Pastorals. "  Not  a 
word  was  said  about  Windsor  Forest,  but  everybody  knew 
to  what  the  general  principles  referred.  !Modern  pastoral 
poets  were  ridiculed  fgr  introducing  Greek  moral  deities, 
Greek  flowers  and  fruits,  Greek  names  of  shepherds,  Greek 
sports  and  customs  and  religious  rites.  They  ought  to 
make  use  of  English  rural  mythology — hobthrushes,  fairies, 
goblins,  and  witches;  they  should  give  English  names  to 
their  shepherds ;  they  should  mention  flowers  indigenous 
to  English  climate  and  soil ;  and  they  should  introduce 
English  proverbial  sayings,  dress,  and  customs.  All  ex- 
cellent principles,  and  all  neglected  by  Pcpe  in  Windsor 
Forest.  The  poem  was  fairly  open  to  criticism  in  these 
points ;  there  are  many  beautiful  passages  in  it,  showing 
close  though  somewhat  professional  observation  of  nature, 
but  the  mixture  of  heathen  deities  and  conventional 
archaic  fancies  with  modern  realities  is  incongruous,  and 
the  comparison  of  Queen  Anne  to  Diana  was  ludicrously 


POPE 


485 


inlelicitous.  But  the  sting  of  the  articles  did  not  lie  in 
the  truth  of  the  oblique  criticisms.  "The  pastorals  of  Mr 
Philips,"  published  four  years  before,  were  again  trotted 
out  Here  was  a  true  pastoral  poet,  the  eldest  born  of 
Spenser,  the  worthy  successor  of  Theocritus  and  Virgil ! 
Pope's  pastorab  have  their  defects,  great  defects,  but  it 
was  an  unkind  cut  to  him  to  prefer  such  trash,  and  with 
such  audacious  emphasis.  It  was  an  affront,  but  so  con- 
trived that  the  sufferer  could  not  retaliate  without  putting 
himself  in  the  wrong,  a  mean  backbiting  provocation,  the 
action  of  a  critic  "  willing  to  wound  and  yet  afraid  to 
strike." 

Pope  took  an  amusing  revenge,  which  turned  the  laugh 
agaisst  his  assailants.  He  sent  Steele  an  anonymous 
paper  in  continuation  of  the  articles  in  the  Guardian  on 
pastoral  poetry,  reviewing  the  poems  of  Mr  Pope  by  the 
light  of  the  principles  laid  down.  Ostensibly  Pope  was 
censured  for  breaking  the  rules,  and  Philips  praised  for 
conforming  to  them,  quotations  being  given  from  both. 
The  quotations  were  sufficient  to  dispose  of  the  pretensions 
of  poor  Philips,  and  Pope  did  not  choose  his  own  worst 
passages,  accusing  himself  of  actually  deviating  sometimes 
into  poetry.  Although  the  Guardian's  principles  were 
also  brought  into  ridicule  by  burlesque  exemplifications  of 
thorn  after  the  manner  of  Gay's  Shepherd's  Week,  Steele, 
misled  by  the  opening  sentences,  was  at  first  unwilling 
to  print  what  appeared  to  be  a  direct  attack  on  Pope, 
and  asked  Pope's  consent  to  the  oublication,  which  was 
graciously  granted. 

The  relations  between  Pope  and  his  Whig  friends  were" 
further  strained  by  one  or  two  little  incidents  about  the 
Buma  time.  The  truculent  Dennis  attacked  both  Pope's 
Rap«  of  the  Lock  and  Addison's  Cato.  Pope  said  nothing 
in  his  own  defence,  but — we  were  very  obliging  in  those 
dftjs — defended  his- friend  Addison  in  a  Narrative  of  the 
Premy  of  John  Dennis.  The  attack  was  so  coarse  that 
Addison  sent  Steele  to  Dennis  to  disclaim  all  connexion 
with  it.  Then  Pope  asked  his  friend  Addison's  advice 
about  the  enlargement  of  the  Rape  of  the  Lock,  and 
Addison  advised  him  to  leave  it  as  it  was,  which  advice 
the  man  who  had  asked  it  attributed  to  jealousy. 

The  estrangement  was  completed  in  connexion  with 
Pope's  translation  of  Homer.  This  enterprise  was  defini- 
tively undertaken  in  1713.  The  work  was  to  be  published 
by  subscription  as  Dryden's  Virgil  had  been.  Men  of  all 
parties  subscribed,  their  unanimity  being  a  striking  proof 
of  the  position  Pope  had  attained  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
five.  It  was  as  if  he  had  received  a  national  commission 
as  by  general  consent  the  first  poet  of  his  time.  But  the 
unanimity  was  broken  by  a  discordant  note.  A  member 
of  the  Addison  clique,  Tickell,  attempted  to  run  a  rival 
version.  There  was  nothing  criminal  in  this,  but  it  was 
an  irritating  continuation  of-the  cold  grudging  treatment 
that  Pope  had  all  along  received  from  the  same  quarter. 
Pope  suspected  Addison's  in.stigation  ;  Tickell  had  at  least 
Addison's  encouragement.  Pope's  famous  character  of  Ad- 
dison, if  not  true  in  the  main,  is  at  least  a  strictly  fair 
dtscription,  inspired  not  by  malignity  but  by  legitimate 
resentment,  if  resentment  is  ever  legitimate,  of  Addison's 
treatment  of  himself  as  he- was  rising  into  fame.'  Pope 
afterwards  claimed  to  have  been  magnanimous,  and  ho  is 
suspected  of  having  supported  this  claim  by  petty  inven- 
ticms  in  his  account  of  the  quarrel.  Magnanimity  ho 
could  not  fairly  claim  ;  but  he  did  not  attack  without  pro- 
vocation. 

The  translation  of  Homer  was  Pope's  chief  employment 

'  A  very  dilTeicnt  viuw  is  argued  by  Mr  Elwin  (with  strangoTlinri. 
ness,  as  the  present  writer  thinks,  to  the  cardinal  eircuinstanccs  hero 
•et  forth),  in  liis  introductions  to  Il'mt/jor  Forest,  the  Esmi/  on 
Criticism,  and  the  Rapr  of  the  Lock.  See  also  Mr  Lcslio  Stephen's 
fope,  and  Mr  Courthopc's  Adtlison. 


for  twelve  years.  The  new  pieces  in  the  miscellanies  pub- 
lished in  1717,  his  "Elegy  on  an  Unfortunate  Lady"  and 
his  "Eloisa  to  Abelard,"  were  probably  written  some  years 
before  their  publication.  The  Iliad  was  delivered  to 
the  subscribers  in  instalments  in  1715,  1717,  1718,  and 
1720.  For  the  translation  of  the  Odyssey  he  took  Fenton 
and  Broome  as  coadjutors,  who  between  them  translated 
twelve  out  of  the  twenty-four  books.^  It  was  completed 
in  1725.  The  profitableness  of  the  work  was  Pope's  chief 
temptation  to  undertake  it.  He  cleared  more  than  .£8000 
by  the  two  translations,  after  deducting  all  payments  to 
coadjutors — a  much  larger  sum  than  had  ever  been  received 
by  an  English  author  before.  Pope,  with  his  economical 
habits,  was  rendered  independent  by  it,  and  enabled  to 
live  nearer  London.  The  estate  at  Binfield  was  sold,  and 
he  removed  with  his  parents  to  Chiswick  in  1716,  and 
in  1718  to  Twickenham,  to  the  residence  with  which  his 
name  is  associated.  Here  he  held  his  little  court,  and 
was  visited  by  his  intimates  Arbuthnot,  G^ay,  Bolingbroke 
(after  his  return  in  1723),  and  Swift  (during  his  brief 
visits  to  England  in  1726  and  1727),  and  by  many  other 
friends  of  political  eminence.  Martha  Blount,  after  his 
mother's  death  in  1733,  was  occasionally  domiciled  in  his 
house. 

The  translation  of  Homer  established  Pope's  reputation 
with  his  contemporaries,  and  has  endangered  it  ever  since 
it  was  challenged.  It  was  the  Homer  chiefly  that  Words- 
worth and  Coleridge  had  in  their  eye  when  they  began 
the  polemic  against  the  "poetic  diction"  of  the  18th 
century,  and  struck  at  Pope  as  the  arch-corruptor.  They 
were  historically  unjust  to  Pope,  who  did  not  originate 
this  diction,  but  only  furnished  the  most  finished  examples 
of  it.  Mr  Leslie  Stephen  has  asked  in  what  the  much 
abused  pseudo-poetic  diction  consists.  A  long  analysis 
would  be  required  to  answer  the  question  in  detail,  but  in 
substance  it  consisted  in  an  ambition  to  "  rise  above  the 
vulgar  style,"  to  dress  nature  to  advantage — a  natural 
ambition — when  the  arbiters  of  literature  were  people  of 
fashion.  If  one  compares  Pope's  "Messiah,"  or  "Eloisa  to 
Abelard,"  or  an  impassioned  passage  from  the  Hiad,  with 
the  originals  that  he  paraphrased,  one  gets  a  more  vivid 
idea  of  the  consistence  of  pseudo-poetic  diction  than  could 
be  furnished  by  pages  of  analysis.  But  Pope  merely  used 
the  established  diction  of  his  time.  A  passage  from  the 
Guardian,  in  which  Philips  was  commended  as  against 
him,  shows  in  a  single  example  the  great  aim  of  fashion- 
able poets  in  those  days.  "  It  is  a  nice  piece  of  art  to 
raise  a  proverb  above  the  vulgar  stylo  and  still  keep  it 
easy  and  unaffected.  Thus  the  old  wish,  '  God  rest  his 
soul,'  is  very  finely  turned  : — 

"  Then  gentle  Sidney  liv'd,  the  shepherd'3  fiieud, 
Etcr>ial  blessings  on  his  shade  attend." 

Pope  would  have  despised  so  easy  a  metamorphosis  as 
this,  for,  just  as  dress  is  often  valued  for  what  it  cost  the 
wearer,  so  the  poetic  dress  of  nature  was  esteemed  in  pro- 
portion to  the  poet's  labour  and  ingenuity  in  devising  it. 
The  work  of  his  coadjutors  and  imitators  in  the  Odyssey 
may  bo  distinguished  by  this  comparative  cheapness  of 
material.  ■  Broome's  description  of  the  clothes-wa.shing  by 
Nausicaa  and  her  maidens  in  the  sixth  book  may  bo  com- 
pared with  the  original  as  a  luminous  specimen. 

The  year  1725  may  bo  taken  as  the  beginning  of  tho 
third  period  of  Pope's  career,  when  ho  made  his  fame 
as  a  moralist  and  a  satirist.  In  point  of  sheer  literary 
power  the  works  then  composed  are  his  greatest,  but 
the  subjects  cho.scn  belong  osscntially  to  the  lower  levels 
of  poetry.  -Why  did  Pope,  when  his  independence  was 
secured  and  he  was  free  to  choose^  "take  to  tho  plain.s," 


.  '  1,  4,  19,  .ind  20  arc  by  Fcntou  :  2,  6,  8,  11,  12,  16,  18,  23  by 
Drooiiic. 


486 


POPE 


to  use  "^'ordswortb's  plirase,  "  when  the  heights  were 
within  his  reach  "  1  His  choice  was  determined  partly  by 
character  and  partly  by  circumstances.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether  Pope  had  the  staying  power  necessary  for  the 
composition  of  a  great  imaginative  work,  whether  his' 
crazy  constitution  would  have  held  together  through  the 
strain.  He  toyed  with  the  idea  of  writing  a  grand  epic. 
He  told  Speuce  that  he  had  it  all  in  his  head,  and  gave 
him  a  vague  (and  it  must  be  admitted  not  very  promising) 
sketch  of  the  subject  and  plan  of  it.  But  he  never  put 
any  of  it  on  paper.  He  shrank  as  with  instinctive  repul- 
sion from  the  stress  and  strain  of  complicated  designs. 
Even  his  prolonged  task  of  translating  weighed  heavily 
on  his  spirits,  and  this  was  a  much  less  formidable  efiort 
than  creating  an  epic.  He  turned  rather  to  designs  that 
could  be  accomplished  in  detail,  works  of  which  the  parts 
could  be  separately  laboured  at  and  put  together  ■with 
patient  care,  into  which  happy  thoughts  could  be  fitted 
that  had  been  struck  out  at  odd  moments  and  in  ordinary 
levels  of  feeling. 

The  Dunciad  (1728)  was  the  first  work  of  the  new 
period.  Circumstances  turned  him  to  satire  when  he  was 
free  from  the  Odyssey^  and  from  his  edition  of  Shake- 
speare, a  bookseller's  commission  completed  in  the  same 
year.  Young's  satire.  The  Universal  Passion,  had  just 
appeared  and  been  received  with  more  enthusiasm  than 
anything  published  since  Pope's  own  early  successes.  This 
alone  would  have  been  powerful  inducement  to  Pope's 
emulous  temper.  S^Nift  was  finishing  Gulliver's  Travels, 
and  carne  over  to  England  in  1726.  The  survivors  of 
the  Scriblerus  Club — Swift,  Pope,  Arbutlmot,  and  Gay — 
resumed  their  old  amusement  of  parodying  and  otherwise 
ridiculing  bad  writers,  especially  bad  writers  in  the  Whig 
interest.  A  volume  of  th&vc  jeux  d'esprit  was  published  in 
1727.  According  to  Pojie's  own  history  of  the  Dunciad, 
the  idea  of  it  grew  out  of  this.  Among  the  miscellanies 
was  a  "  Treatise  on  the  Art  of  Sinking,"  in  which  poets 
were  classified,  with  illustrations,  according  to  their  emin- 
ence in  the  various  arts  of  debasing  instead  of  elevating 
their  subject.  No  names  were  mentioned,  but  the  speci- 
mens of  bathos  were  assigned  to  various  letters  of  the 
alphabet,  most  of  them  taken  at  random.  But  no  sooner 
was  the  treatise  published  than  the  infatuated  scribblei-s 
proceeded  to  take  the  letters  to  themselves,  and  in  revenge 
to  fill  the  newspapers  with  the  most  abusive  falsehoods 
and  scurrilities  they  could  possibly  de%ise  "  This  gave 
Mr  Pope  the  thought  that  he  had  now  some  opportunity 
of  doing  good,  by  detecting  and  dragging  into  light  these 
common  enemies  of  mankind,"  who  for  years  had  been 
anonymously  aspersing  almost  all  the  great  characters  of 
the  age. 

The  truth  probably  lies  between  this  account  and  that 
adopted  by  those  who  take  the  worst  view  of  Pope's 
character.  This  is  that  he  was  essentially  vindictive  and 
malignant,  and  that,  as  soon  as  his  hands  were  free  from 
Homer,  he  proceeded  to  settle  old  scores  with  all  who  had 
not  spoken  as  favourably  as  he  liked  about  himself  and 
his  works.  The  most  prominent  objects  of  his  satire  can 
be  shown  to  have  given  him  personal  offence — Theobald, 
Gibber,  Dennis,  Lintot,  and  others.  This  indeed  was 
avowed  by  Pope,  who  claimed  that  it  was  their  attacks  on 
himself  that  had  given  him  a  right  to  their  names.  "We 
may  admit  that  personal  spite  influenced  Pope  at  least  as 
much  as  disinterested  zeal  for  the  honour  of  literature, 
but  in  the  di<^pute  as  to  the  comparative  strength  of  these 
motives,  a  third  is  apt  to  be  overlooked  that  was  probably 
stronger  than  either.  This  was  an  unscrupulous  elfish 
love  of  fun,  and  delight  in  the  creations  of  a  humorous 
iniaginatLon.  Certainly  to  represent  the  Dunciad  as  the 
"atcome  of  mere  personal  spite  is  to  give  an  exaggerated 


idea  of  the  malignity  of  Pope's  disposition,  and  an  utterly 
wrong  impression  of  the  character  of  his  satire.  He  was 
not  a  morose,  savage,  indignant  satirist,  but  airy  and 
graceful  in  his  malice,  writing  more  in  fun  than  in  anger, 
revengeful  perhaps  and  excessively  sensitive,  but  restored 
to  good-humour  as  he  thought  over  his  wrongs  by  the 
ludicrous  conceptions  with  which  he  invested  his  adver- 
saries. We  do  not  feel  the  bitterness  of  wounded  pride 
in  his  writings,  but  the  laughter  with  which  that  pride 
was  consoled.  He  loved  his  own  comic  fancies  more  than 
he  hated  his  enemies.  His  fun  at  the  expense  of  his 
victims  was  so  far  cruel  that  he  was  quite  regardless  of 
their  sufferings,  probably  enjoyed  them;  but  it  was  an 
impish  and  sprite-like  cruelty,  against  which  we  cannot 
feel  any  real  indignation  because  it  is  substantially  harm- 
less, while  its  ingenious  antics  never  fail  to  amuse.  Even 
when  he  exults  in  the  poverty  and -material  distresses  of 
his  victims,  the  coarseness  of  the  matter  is  redeemed  by 
the  irresponsible  gaiety  of  the  manner.  Such  things 
should  not  be  taken  too  seriously,  if  a  Scotsman  may 
say  so.  Further,  even  if  Pope  is  regarded  as  a  bitter 
malignant,  it  must  be  with  two  important  qualificaticr.s. 
His  plea  that  he  was  never  the  aggressor  in  a  quarrel,  in 
spite  of  all  ^Ir  Elwin's  special  pleadings  to  the  contrary, 
was  a  truthful  plea,  though  his  sensitiveness  to  criticism 
was  such  as  to  make  him  fancy  slights,  and  the  with- 
holding of  praise  where  praise  was  due  would  have  been 
construed  by  him  as  a  positive  offence.  And  his  literary 
conscience  was  so  strong  that  not  one  of  his  attacks  on 
literary  grounds  was  unjust  Pope  was  a  most  generous 
critic  of  real  merit.  The  only  doubtful  exception  is  the 
case  of  Bentley,  whom  he  satirized  in  the  reconstruction 
and  enlargement  of  the  Dunciad  made  in  the  last  years 
of  his  life  at  the  instigation,  it  is  said,  of  Warburton. 
Looked  at  apart  from  personal  questions,  the  Dunciad  is 
the  greatest  feat  of  the  humorous  imagination  in  English 
poetry. 

There  was  muoh  more  of  unjust  judgment  in  Pope's 
Satires  and  Epistles  of  Horace  Imitated,  pubUshed  at 
intervals  between  1733  and  1738,  because  in  them  he 
oftener  wrote  of  what  he  did  not  personally  know,  and 
was  the  mouthpiece  of  the  animus  of  his  poUtical  friends. 
These,  friends  were  all  in  opposition  to  Walpole,  who  was 
then  at  the  height  of  his  power,  and  the  shafts  of  Pope's 
satire  were  directed  at  the  adherents  of  the  great  minister. 
Pope's  satires  give  the  concentrated  essence  of  the  bitter- 
ness of  the  opposition.  We  see  gathered  up  in  them  the 
worst  that  was  thought  and  said  about  the  court  party 
when  men's  minds  were  heated  almost  to  the  point  of 
civil  war.  To  appreciate  fully  the  point  of  his  allusions 
requires  of  course  an  intimate,  acquaintance  with  the 
political  and  social  gossip  of  the  time.  But  apart  from 
their  value  as  a  brilliant  strongly-coloured  picture  of  the 
time  Pope's  satires  have  a  permanent  value  as  literature. 
It  is  justly  remarked  by  Pattison  ^  that  "  these  Imita- 
tions ai;e  among  the  most  original  of  his  writings."  The 
felicity  of  the  versification  and  the  diction  is  universally 
admired. 

The  Essay  on  Man  (1732-34)  was  also  intimately  con- 
nected with  passing  controversies.-  It  belongs  to  the 
same  intellectual  movement  with  Butler's  Analogy — the 
effort  of  the  18th  century  to  put  religion  on  a  rational 
basis.  But  Pope  was  not  a  thinker  like  Butler.  The 
subject  was  suggested  to  him  by  Bolingbroke,  who  is  said 
also — and  the  statement  is  supported  by  the  contents  of 
his  posthumous  works — to  have  furnished  most  of  the 
arguments.  Pope's  contribution  to  the  controversy  con- 
sisted in  brilliant  epigram  and  illustration.  In  this  di- 
'  In  his  incomparable  edition  of  the  Satires  and  Epistles. 
"  See  Pattisou's  edition  of  the  Essay  on  Man.. 


P  O  P  — P  0  P 


487 


dactic  work,  as  in  tis  Essay  on  Criticitni,  he  put  together 
on  a  sufficiently  simple  nlan  a  series  of  happy  sayings, 
separately  elaborated,  picking  up  the  thoughts  as  he  found 
them  in  miscellaneous  reading  and  conversation,  and  try- 
ing only  to  fit  them  with  perfect  expression.  The  want  of 
logical  coherence  in  his  system  was  shown  by  the  very 
different  interpretations  put  upon  it.  Dealing  as  it  did 
in  incomparably  brilliant  fashion  with  a  subject  of  living 
interest,  the  Essay  at  ouce  attracted  attention  both  at 
home  and  abroad,  and  Pope  was  attacked  by  a  Swiss 
professor  as  an  ally  of  the  freethinkers.  But  a  champion 
of  his  orthodox)'  was  found  in  Warburton.  Pope  was  so 
delighted  with  the  pugnacious  paradoxist's  reply  to  De 
Crousaz  that  he  made  Warburton's  acquaintance.  The 
readiness  with  which  Pope  allowed  Warburton  to  take 
possession  of  himself  and  his  works  in  his  old  age'  was 
not  a  symptom  of  senile  weakness.  It  was  an  act  of  that 
jharacteristic  business-like  acuteness  which  he  showed 
throughout  in  the  management  of  his  reputation.  He 
saw  that  as  long  as  Warburton  was  the  authorized  com- 
mentator on  his  works  there  was  not  likely  to  be  any  lack 
of  critical  debate  about  him  and  about  them. 

The  Essay  on  Man,  which  may  be  said  to  contain  the 
essence  of  the  thought  of  men  of  the  world  in  his  genera- 
tion on  its  subject — such  was  the  poet's  skill  and  judg- 
ment in  collecting  the  substance  of  floating  opinion — was 
announced  by  Popo  as  part  of  a  system  of  "pieces  on 
human  life  and  mannei-s."  Whether  Warburton  was 
authorized  or  not  in  his  sketch  of  Pope's  intentions,  the 
so-called  Moral  Essays  (published  at  intervals  between 
1731  and  1735)  which  Warburton  connected  with  the 
general  plan  have  each  an  independent  interest.  They 
contain  some  of  the  most  brilliant  of  Pope's  satirical 
portraits,  and  his  famous  theory  of  "the  ruling  passion." 
If  space  permitted  it  might  easily  be  shown  that  in  this 
theory  Pope  proved  himself  a  better  psychologist  than 
Macaulay,  who  eubjects  it-  to  much  misunderstanding 
ridicule. 

.  Popo  died  on  the  30th  May  1744,  and  was  buried  in 
the  church  of  Twickenham.  His  own  ruling'  passion  was 
what  a  poet  of  his  generation  described  as  the  universal 
passion,  the  love  of  fame.  I]fnder  the  influence  of  this 
passion  he  tried  to  support  his  reputation  by  intrigues  such 
as  the  statesmen  of  his  time  used  in  climbing  the  ladder 
and  keeping  themselves  in  place.  He  had  no  moral  scruple 
where  this  was  concerned-— everything  gave  way  before  the 
ruling  passion.  For  some  of  these  intrigues,  so  incon- 
gruous with  our  idea  of  a  poet's  character,  he  has  suffered 
severe  retribution.  Especially  of  late  years  ho  has  been 
violently  denounced  as  little  better  than  a  common  swindler 
for  his  petty  manreuvres  in  connexion  with  the  publication 
of  his  letters — letters  designed  to  exhibit  him  as  a  pattern 
of  friendship,  magnanimity,  and  all  the  virtues.  These 
manoeuvres,  which  were  first  tracked  with  great  patience 
and  ingenuity  by  Mr  Dilke,^  are  too  intricate  to  be  recorded 
in  short  space.  This,  in  effect,  is  what  he  seems  to  have 
done.  He  collected  his  letters  from  his  friends,  retouched 
them,  changed  dates  and  passages  to  suit  the  picture  of 
himself  which  he  wished  to  present,  deposited  the  collection 
thus  manipulated  in  the  safe-keeping  of  the  earl  of  Oxford, 
then  sent  a  printed  book  of  them  to  Curll,  and  intrigued 
to  make  it  appear  that  they  had  been  fraudulently  pub- 
lished without  his  consent.  It  was  a  ridiculously  petty 
action,  but  to  characterize  it  as  Mr  Elwin  has  done  will  be 
fair  when  it  is  customary  to  use  similar  language  about  the 
intrigues  of  statesmen  and  diplomatists.  To  apply  it  to 
Pope  at  present  is  not  to  call  a  spade  a  spado,  but  a  molehill 
a  mountain.  Recent  revelations  have  not  affected  by  one 
iota  Johnson's  judgment  of  his  character.  The  man  who 
'  Seo  Papers  of  a  C'lUic, 


"  played  the  politician  about  cabbages  and  turnips,"  and 
"  hardly  drank  tea  without  a  stratagem,"  was  not  likely  to 
be  straightforward  in  a  matter  in  which  his  ruling  passion 
was  concerned.  Against  Pope's  petulance  and  "general  love 
of  secrecy  and  cunning"  have  to  be  set,  in  any  fair  judg- 
ment of  his  character,  his  exemplary  conduct  as  a  son,  the 
afiection  with  which  he  was  regarded  in  his  own  circle  of 
'  intimates,  and  many  well-authenticated  instances  of  genuine 
kindliness  to  persons  in  distress.  (w.  M.) 

POPEDOM.-  Both  the  ecclesiastical  and  the  temporal 
authority  formerly  exercised  and  still  claimed  by  the  popes 
of  Rome  profess  to  be  of  divine  appointment,  appealing 
in  tho  first  place  to  the  language  of  the  New  Testament, 
and  in  the  next  to  the  tradition  of  the  church,  handed 
down,  as  it  is  asserted,  in  unbroken  continuity,  from 
apostolic  times  to  the  present  age.  According  to  tho 
theory  thus  put  forth,  Peter  the  apostle  was  indicated  by  * 

Christ  Himself  as  superior  to  the  rest  of  the  twelve  in  faith 
and  spiritual  discernment;  and  as  the  one  of  the  number 
whom  it  was  His  design  to  invest  with  special  pre-eminence. 
In  like  manner,  the  church  itself  which  Peter  was  after- g^  p^t^r 
wards  to  found  and  to  preside  over  was  predestined  to  a*'  Rome. 
like  superiority  among  other  churches,  while  his  personal 
superiority  was  to  be  vested  in  perpetuity  in  his  successors. 
In  conformity  with  this  divine  design  Peter,  accompanied 
by  Paul,  went  to  Rome  after  Christ's  death,  and  founded 
there  a  church  over  which  he  presided  as  its  bishop  for 
twenty -five  years, — from  the  first  year  of  the  reign  of 
Claudius,  41  a.d.,  to  67  a.d., — eventually  suffering  martyr- 
dom in  the  same  year  and  on  the  same  day  as  St  Paul,  in 
the  persecution  under  Nero.  And,  if  wo  accept  the  records 
preserved  in  the  Roman  Church,  we  shall  believe  that  St 
Peter's  successors,  so  long  as  Christianity  was  the  object 
of  state  persecution,  continued  heroically  to  encounter  the 
same  glorious  fate,  the  distinction  of  martyrdom  being 
assigned  in  the  Roman  calendar  to  all  but  two  of  the 
bishops  of  Rome  from  Linus  to  Eusebius  (see  list  at  con- 
clusion of  article). 

In  dealing  with  a  subject  in  which  tho  evidence  is 
frequently  ambiguous  and  conflicting,  and  sometimes  of 
more  than  doubtful  genuineness,  and  with  a  period  of 
much  obscurity,  no  amount  of  research  will  often  serve  to 
point  to  more  than  a  conjectural  conclusion.  But,  inas- 
much as  it  is  on  the  basis  of  the  assumptions  involved  in 
the  above  theory  that  the  claims  of  the  Church  of  Rome 
mainly  rest,  it  will  be  desirable  to  state,  ns  concisely  as 
possible,  the  main  facts  and  arguments  on  which  those  who 
deny  these  assumjitions-ground  their  contrary  opinion. 

The  question  whether  or  no  St  Petor  was  designed  for  Tlieorj-  of 
pre-eminence   among   the   apostles  resolves    itself,    it   is  his  pro- 
evident,  into  one  of  New  Testament  criticism ;  but  from  <""'ocnro 
the  time  of  Oriqen,  who  visited  Romo  early  in  the  3d  "p(,°"fe„."' 
century,  .when  tho  theory  first  began  to  be  put  forward, 
there  has  always  been  a  certain  section  in  tho  church  who 
have   distinctly    rcjnidiated    the    aflirmativo   as.'iun)j)tion. 
I  "  For  if,"  says  Origen,  "you  bold  that  the  wholo  church 
was  built  by  God  on  Peter  alone,  what  will  you  .say  con- 
cerning John,  tho  son  of  thunder,  and  each  of  tlio  otlier 
apostles?"  (Jligne,  Potrolopia  O'nrca,  xiii.  397).     Next,  as 
regards  tho  evidence  for  St  Peter's  presence  in  Rome  and 
lengthened  labours  there,  as  tho  head  of  a  Christian  con- 
gregation,   it    is    maintained    by    tho    great    majority   of 
Protestant  scholars  that  there  is  no  pmof  that  ho  was  ever 
in  Rome  at  all;    that  tho  "Babylon"  referred  to  in  his 
first  epistio  (ch.  v.  13)  is  really  the  distant  city  of  the 

*  Tb«  design  of  the  present  article  is  ainiply  to  give  the  main 
outlinci  of  the  history  of  tho  Papocy  aa  an  institution  ;  the  details 
connected  with  tho  personal  history  of  e.ich  pontilf  will  bo  found 
nndcr  tlio  icspectivo  names  of  tho  dilTerciit  popes.  Tho  ilalin 
immp'liatoly  after  tlio  nanio  of  each  pope  <leni>tn  the  iicriod  of  liin 
poDli&cato. 


488 


POPEDOM 


East ;  and  that,  even  if  his  presence  in  Rome  be  admitted, 
his  arrival  there  must  have  been  long  subsequent  to  that 
of  his  brother  apostle,  and  his  labours  altogether  subordi- 
nate in  importance, — conclusions  supported  by  the  com- 
plete silence  observed  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  respecting 
both  him  and  his  work  in  the  capital  of  the  empire.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  is  urged  that,  as  no  known  tradition 
assigns  the  martyrdom  of  Peter  to  any  other  place  than 
Rome,  every  allusion  to  that  event  is  implicitly  an  argu- 
ment for  his  visit  to  the  capital;  and,  generally  speaking, 
it  may  be  said  that  the  most  recent  and  authoritative 
research  seems  to  point  to  the  conclusion  that  he  both 
visited  Rome  and  taught  there,  but  that  his  labours  were 
carried  on  in  a  spirit  of  rivalry,  not  to  say  antagonism,  to 
those  of  Paul,  being  bestowed  exclusively  on  a  Judaizing 
church,  while  tljose  of  his  fellow-apostle  were  devoted  to 
the  Gentile  community.  Of  the  important  feature  which 
harmonizes  perfectly  with  these  conclusions — namely,  that 
the  Church  of  Rome,  attaching  itself  directly  to  the  church 
at  Jerusalem,  became  the  depositary  of  a  Jewish-Christian 
rather  than  of  a  Pauline  tradition — there  can  be  no  doubt 
whatever. 

!  The  existence  of  a  considerable  poor  Jewish  element  in 
lEome  as  early  as  the  latter  half  of  the  1st  century  is 
attested  by  numerous  facts  and  allusions  in  the  classical 
writers.  The  Jews  were  everywhere  actively  engaged  in 
commercial  pursuits,  and  formed  an  influential  section  in 
all  great  centres.  Josephus  tells  us  that,  when  on  one 
occasion  the  Jews  of  Palestine  presented  a  petition  to  the 
,'emperor  Augustus,  it  was  supported  by  no  less  than 
eight  thousand  of  their  countrymen  resident  in  the  capital. 
'  The  chief  quarters  of  this  Jewish  colony  were  in  the 
Trastevere,  about  the  base  of  the  Janiculum ;  and  its 
members  were  distinguished  by  the  fidelity  with  which 
they  cherished  their  national  customs  and  beliefs.  Both 
Rome  and  the  Jewish  community  in  its  midst  must 
accordingly  have  appeared  a  field  of  primary  importance 
in  the  work  of  evangelization ;  and  it  is  evident  that  the 
questions  raised  by  the  claims  of  Christianity  would  there 
be  discussed  with  the  greatest  ardour,  and  the  most 
strenuous  endeavours  bo  made  to  bring  them  to  an 
ultimate  issue.  That  such  was  really  the  case  is  sufB- 
Passage  ciently  proved  by  a  well-known  passage  in  Suetonius,  who 
in  Suet-  relates  that  about  the  middle  of  the  1st  century  there 
onius.  -n-ere  constant  riots  among  the  Jewish  population,  their 
ringleader  being  one  "Chrestus,"  and  that  Claudius  in 
consequence  e.xpelled  them  from  the  city.  There  is  no 
.reason  for  supposing  that  this  section  of  the  community 
would  be  estranged  to  any  great  degree,  by  the  pursuits 
and  associations  of  their  daily  life,  from  those  by  whom 
they  were  surrounded.  The  influences  that  then  pervaded 
alike  the  Roman  literature,  culture,  £),nd  civilization  were 
mainly  Greek,  and  the  Jewish  element  was  no  less  affected 
by  these  influences  than  the  Latin.  Greek,  again,  was  the 
ordinary  medium  of  commercial  intercourse  throughout 
the  Roman  world,  and  the  Jew  was  largely  engaged  in 
commerce.  Greek  therefore  had,  except  in  the  Syrian 
provinces,  become  the  language  of  his  daily  life,  as  it  had 
long  been  that  of  his  sacred  books  read  aloud  in  the 
synagogues,  and  of  the  annals  of  his  race  as  recorded  by 
the  national  writers. 

The  importance  of  the  passage  above  referred  to  in 
Suetonius,  of  which  the  very  inaccuracy  which  it  embodies 
is  in  itself  highly  significant,  has  perhaps  hardly  been 
sufficiently  recognized,  for  it  not  only  records  an  important 
fact  but  it  sheds  light  on  subsequent  history.  It  enables 
us  to  understand  that,  when  the  Jewish  population  was 
permitted  to  return  to  Rome,  its  members,  whether 
adherents  of  the  national  faith  or  converts  to  the  new, 
would,  in  common  with  the  whole  Christian  community, 


feel  the  necessity  of  extreme  caution  lest  their  religions 
observances  or  their  religions  differences  should  again 
attract  the  notice  of  the  Rofnan  magistrate  and  expose 
them  to  fresh  persecution.  Of  this  character  would  appear 
to  be  the  sentiments  indicated  in  the  epistle  of  Clemena 
Romanus  (supposed  by  some  to  have  been  the  same  with 
the  Clemens  whose  name  is  inserted  as  that  of  the  third 
bishop  of  Rome)  when  he  refers  to  the  sudden  and  repeated 
"calamities  and  adversities  which  are  befalling  us" — a 
passage  generally  interpreted  as  having  reference  to  the 
persecution  under  Nero  and  the  impending  persecution 
under  Domitian  (Lightfoot,  Append.,  p.  2G7).  Iji  such 
considerations  as  these  we  may  fairly  consider  that  we  have 
a  reasonable  explanation  of  the  fact  that  during  the  first 
two  centuries  of  its  existence  we  hear  so  little, of  the 
Christian  church  in  Rome. 

With  such  considerations  before  us,  it  is  .scarcely 
necessary  to  point  out  that  Greek  was  also  the  language  of 
the  early  Christian  church  in  Rome.  In  whatever  propor- 
tions, therefore,  that  church  was  composed  of  Christianized 
Jfcws  or  of  Christianized  pagans,  its  records  would  naturally 
be,  as  we  find  them  to  have  been,  in  the  Greek  language. 
Hegesippus,  "the  father  of  church  history,"  makes  a 
statement  which  is  generally  understood  to  imply  that, 
teing  in  Rome  in  the  time  of  Anicetus  (bishop  155'-- 
168  A.D.),  he  made  a  list  of  the  bishops  of  the  see.  This  list 
is  not  extant;  but  in  Irenaeus,  who  wrote  his  Adversus 
Hxreses  a  few  years  later,  we  have  another  Greek  list  of 
tweive  bishops,  which  shows  the  succession  accepted  at 
Rome  in  the  time  of  Eleutherius,  the  contemporary  of 
Irenaeus,  and  at  the  head  of  which  stand  the  names  of 
both  Peter  and  Paul.  To  these  lists  are  to  be  added  two 
other  Greek  lists,  the  one  in  the  Chronicon  of  Eusebius, 
the  other  in  the  Ecclesiastical  History  of  the  same  writer. 
Of  these,  the  former  extends  from  Peter  to  Gains  (the  last 
bishop  before  the  Diocletian  persecution),  and  gives  the 
periods  of  office.  It  is  derived  from  the  Armenian 
translation,  but  is  not  contained  in  the  version  by  Jerome. 
The  first  Latin  list,  the  Catalogiis  Liberianus, — supposed 
by  Mommsen  to  have  been  derived  from  the  Chronicon  of 
Hippolytus,  bishop  of  Portus,  and  to  have  been  in  turn 
the  original  from  which  the  Catalogus  Felicianus  (the 
oldest  existing  version  of  the  Liber  Pontijicalis, — see  infra) 
was  taken, — is  so  called  because  it  was  compiled  in  the 
episcopate  of  Liberius,  who  succeeded  352  a.d.  We  have 
also  two  other  Latin  lists  of  some  authority,  in  Augustine 
{Epist.  53;  Migne,  Patrol.,  xxxiii.  195)  and  in  Optatu3 
(Z)e  Schism.  Don.,  ii.  3). 

It  is  undeniable  that  in  all  the  foregoing  lists  there  are 
considerable  discrepancies.  The  Liberian  catalogue  gives 
us  a  certain  "  Cletus,"  as  the  immediate  predecessor  of 
Anacletus ;  scholars  like  Mommsen  and  Lipsius  are 
divided  in  opinion  as  to  whether  Anicetus  was  the  pre- 
decessor or  the  successor  of  Pius ;  whUe,  as  regards  the 
duration  of  each  episcopate,  there  are  equally  important 
discrepancies.  Bat  difficulties  like  these  cannot  justly  pre- 
judice our  acceptance  of  the  general  tradition  with  which 
they  are  associated ;  they  are  rather  to  be  looked  upon  as 
suppljdng  valuable  incidental  evidence  with  respect  to 
the  status  of  the  Roman  episcopate ;  and,  while  the  lists 
themselves  prove,  on  the  one  hand,  that  before  the  termina- 
tion of  the  3d  century  the  office  was  held  to  be  of  such 
importance  that  its  succession  was  a  matter  of  interest  to 
ecclesiastics  living  in  distant  sees,  the  variations  that 
the  lists  present  indicate  not  less  clearly  that  the  Roman 
bishopric  at  this  period  could  not  have  held  that  position 
in   relation   to   the  church — the  parallel  to  that  of  the 


1 


Earllflrt 
liiita'o/tJ 
KomaD 
bishop* 


'  For  this  date  see  article  "  Pope"  in  Smith's  Did.  of  Cliristian 
AniiquUies,  p.  1657. 


r  0  P  E  D  O  M 


489 


imperial  ofiSce  in  the  empire — claimed  for  it  by  writers 
like  Bellarmine. 

The  comparative  history  of  institutions  would,  in  itself, 
incline  us  to  look  for  a  less  precise  and  exalted  conception 
of  the  office,  as  discharged  by  these  early  bishops,  than 
when,  after  a  lapse  of  centuries  and  a  succession  of  varied 
experiences,  its  duties  and  responsibilities  had  become 
defined  and  developed ;  but  it  is  also  a  fact  of  considerable 
significance  that  those  who  were  elected  to  the  office  from 
the  time  of  Clement  were  for  the  most  part  men  whose 
very  names  would  probably  not  have  survived  but  for  their 
appearance  in  these  lists,  and  that,  even  when,  in  one  or 
two  instances,  their  individual  careers  emerge  from  tho 
general  obscurity,  they  themselves  appear  as  speaking  and 
acting  in  a  manner  which  seems  hardly  compatible  with 
those  exalted  prerogatives  which,  as  some  maintain,  were 
inherent  in  the  office  from  its  first  commencement.  In 
stieofthe  recently  recovered  portion  of  the  epistle  of  Clemens 
"wns  Romauus,  above  cited,  it  is,  for  example,  highly  signi- 
aanus.  ggg^pj  jq  fjmj  j]ja,t  the  letter  purports  to  emanate,  not  from 
the  "bishop  of  Kome,"  but  from  "the  church  at  Rome," 
and  to  find  again  that,  even  so  late  as  the  2d  csntury, 
this  letter  is  in  like  manner  referred  to  as  emanating  from 
the  community.and  not  from  the  individual.  This  feature, 
indeed,  is  not  a  little  suggestive  with  respect  to  the  de- 
velopment of  the  Roman  supremacy.  While  the  letter  is 
wanting  in  anything -that  implies  any  special  pre-eminence 
on  the  part  of  the  Roman  bishop,  it  is  at  the  same  time 
characterized  by  a  certain  admonitory  tone,  such  as  could 
hardly  have  been  assumed  if  the  community  by  whom  it 
was  sent  had  not  been  held  to  possess  a  recognized  superi- 
ority over  the  community  to  whom  it  is  written,  but  this 
superiority  is  not  greater  than  would  naturally  belong  (not- 
withstanding their  common  founder)  to  the  church  in 
imperial  Rome  as  contrasted  with  the  church  at  subject 
Corinth, — to  the  church  of  the  august  capital  from  whence 
emanated  the  laws  which  governed  the  empire  and  the 
ohurch  of  the  fallen  city  which,  two  centuries  and  a  half 
before,  the  Roman  arms  had  well  nigh  effaced  from 
existence. 

[f  again  we  accept  as  genuine  the  evidence  afforded  in 
ten  of  those  seven  letters  of  Ignatius  which  most  critics  are  dis- 
stius.  posed  to  accept  as  genuine,  the  relations  of  the  Roman 
Church  to  tlio  other  churches  of  the  empire  appear  to  be 
of  the  same  character.  Ignatius,  when  on  his  way  to 
Rome  (probably  early  in  the  2d  century)  to  suffer 
martyrdom,  addressed  a  letter  to  the  Christian  community 
in  that  city.  In  this  letter  there  is  again  an  equally 
direct  reference  to  a  certain  primacy  of  the  church  in 
Rome,  which  is  addressed  as  "she  who  hath  tho  presid- 
ency in  the  place  of  the  region  of  the  Romans."  But  this 
expression  is  immediately  followed  by  a  definition  of  this 
primacy  which  is  altogether  incompatible  with  the  theory 
that  it  is  derived  from  the  episcopal  succession  in  the 
church ;  it  is  spoken  of  as  founded  upon  sentiments  of 
Christian  fellowship,  with  the  additional  considerations 
attaching  to  the  dignity  and  superior  advantages  belong- 
itig  to  the  church  of  the  capital. 

The  conclusion  to  which  the  foregoing  evidence  points 
ta  again  strongly  confirmed  by  the  general  fact  that,  as 
each  new  pretension  on  the  part  of  the  Roman  see  was 
put  forward,  it  was  called 'in  question  and  repudiated  by 
some  one  or  other  section  of  the  Christian  community. 
An  obscure  and  doubtful  passage  inlrenoeus  (Adv.  /litres., 
bk.  iii.  c.  3)  testifies,  at  most,  to  nothing  more  than  a 
fuller-  recognition  of  the  primacy  of  the  Roman  Church, 
■while  in  the  same  writer,  who,  it  will  bo  remembered,  was 
bishop  of  the  church  at  Lyons,  wo  have  a  notable  instance 
of  a  distinct  repudiation  of  tho  claims  of  the  Roman 
bishop  to  dictate  to  tho  bishops  of  other  dioceses.     This 


was  on  the  occasion  of  a  sentence  of  excommunication 
which  VicTOK  I.  (c.  190-202  a.d.)  had  pronounced  upon 
certain  bishops  in  the  province  of  Asia  Minor,i  on  account 
of  their  refusal  to  celebrate  Easter  at  the  particular  time 
enjoined  by  the  church  in  Rome.  Victor  appears  not  to 
have  had  recourse  to  this  extreme  measure  until  after  he 
had  consulted  with  his  episcopal  brethren  in  Palestine, 
Pontus,  Gaul,  and  Corinth ;  but  Irenasus,  notwithstand- 
ing, remonstrates  boldly  with  him  on  the  rigour  of  his 
proceeding,  and  on  the  impolicy  of  thus  cutting  himself 
off  from  an  important  section  of  the  church  on  a  mere 
matter  of  ceremonial  observance.  We  find  again  TertuUian, 
who  during  his  residence  in  Rome  had  acquired  a  certain 
practical  knowledge  of  the  administrative  characteristics 
of  its  church,  implicitly  intimating  his  disapproval  in  hia 
treatise  De  PudiciHa  (sec.  i.)  of  the  assumption  by  the 
Roman  bishop  of  the  ^titles  of  "pontifex  maximus"  and 
"episcopus  episcoporum";  in  another  of  his  treatises  {De 
Virgin,  veland. ;-  Migne,  Patrol.,  pp.  767-8),  he  distinctly 
impugns  the  claim  made  by  Zephyeintjs  (202-218)  of  a 
certain  superiority  in  the  Roman  see  derived  as  a  tradition 
from  St  Peter. 

The  evidence  with  which  we  are  presented  for  the  rest  Evidente 
of  the  3d  century  is  of  a  similar  character.  Callistus  ■;'ffo''<J«i 
(218-223),  the  successor  to  Zephyrinus,  was  originally  a'"'". 
Christian  slave  in  Rome  during  the  bishopric  of  Victor.  Callistn*. 
who  (if  we  accept  the  narrative  of  Hippolytus)  had  been 
sent  on  account  of  his  turbulence  and  dishonest  practices 
to  the  mines  in  Sardinia.  Victor,  who  was  acquainted 
with  the  circumstances  of  his  career,  deemed  him,  not- 
withstanding, so  little  deserving  of  commiseration  that, 
when,  through  the  influence  of  Marcia,  the  mistress  of 
the  emperor  Commodus,  he  had  succeeded  in  bringing 
about  the  liberation  of  a  certain  number  of  Callistus's 
Christian  fellow-sufferers  in  Sardinia,  he  did  not  include 
in  the  list  the  name  of  Callistus  himself.  The  latter, 
however,  managed  to  regain  his  freedom,  and  ultimately 
himself  became  bishop  of  Rome.  During  his  brief  epis- 
copate his  administration,  as  well- as  that  of  his  prede- 
cessor Zephyrinus,  was  unsparingly  criticized  by  Hip- 
polytus, the  well-known  bishop  of  Portus.  Against 
Callistus  Hippolytus  alleges  the  greatest  laxity  in  the 
admission  of  candidates  to  ecclesiastical  orders,  and  also 
undue  connivance  at  marriages  dishonourable  to  those  pro- 
fessing the  Christian  faith ;  while  Zephyrinus  is  depicted 
as  a  man  of  but  little  intelligence  and  of  ignoble  aima 
It  is  evident  that  when  a  suffragan  bishop  could  venture 
thus  to  criticize  hia  metropolitan  the  authority  wielded 
by  the  latter,  even  in  his  own  diocese,  was  very  far  from 
meeting  with  unquestioning  obedience. 

The  foregoing  evidence,  together  with  many  other 
similar  facts  which  cannot  here  be  enumerated,  points 
clearly  to  two  important  conclusions :  first,  that  in  the 
course  of  the  2d  and  3d  centuries  the  Church  of  Rome 
began  to  put  forth  unprecedented  claims  to  a  certain 
superiority  among  other  churches;  and,  secondly,  that 
these  claims  not  unfrequently  encountered  considerable 
opposition  as  novel  and  unjustifiable. 

The  circumstances  which  contributed  to  bring  about 
their  ultimate  establishment  were  various.  The  Roman 
Church  itself  had,  from  the  first,  been  associated  with  that 
severer  type  of  Christian  belief  which  had  its  chief  seat 
at  Jerusalem  ;  and,  after  the  Holy  City  and  its  temple  were 

'  An  t'jprossion  which,  it  niust  bo  noted,  Is  to  b«  nndcrstood  with 
considorahlo  qualHication  as  applied  to  tho  Roman  province. 

•  Tlio  evidence  afTorded  in  tlio  obovo  two  treatises  canies  the  greater 
veight  in  that  they  wore  not  written  nntil  after  TertuUian  had  become 
a  convert  to  the  austere  tenets  of  Moctanism,  when  he  must  have 
been  all  tho  more  inclined  to  favour  the  type  of  Christiauity  which 
then  prevailed  at  Rome. 

XIX.  —  62 


490 


POPEDOM 


alike  razed  to  the  ground  by  Titus  (70  A.D.),  much  of  the 
reverence  which  had  belonged  to  Jerusalem  was  transferred 
to  Home.  In  relation  to  the  episcopal  office  itself,  again, 
it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  general  conception  of  its  func- 
tions underwent,  at  this  period,  considerable  change.  On 
this  point  a  passage  in  Jerome  {Ad  Tit.,  L  7)  is  of  special 
significance.  He  here  expressly  attributes  the  institution 
of  the  episcopal  order  to  the  necessity  which  had  arisen  of 
repressing  the  numerous  schisms  in  the  church ;  and  he 
goes  on  to  observe  that  bishops  would  consequently  do 
well  to  bear  in  mind  that  their  office,  with  its  involved 
authority  over  presbyters,  was  to  be  regarded  rather  as  the 
result  of  custom  and  tradition  than  of  divine  appointment. 
As  regards  any  special  supremacy  attaching  to  the  Roman 
episcopate,  the  evidence  afforded  by  another  passage  in 
Jerome  is  not  less  notable.  In  one  of  his  most  important 
letters  {Ad  Rusticitm;  Sligne,  Patrol.,  xxii.  932)  he  fully 
recognizes  the  expediency  and  value  of  a  central  supreme 
authority,  vested  in  a  single  individual.  Iin  support  of 
his  position  he  adduces  examples  from  the  animal  kingdom, 
from  the  imperial  power,  from  the  judicial  power,  from  the 
military  power,  and  then  goes  on  to  say,  "so  again  each 
church  has  its  one  bishop,  its  one  arch-presbyter,  its 
one  archdeacon,  every  ecclesiastical  grade  relying  on  its 
leader,"  but  to  the  clenching  example,  derivable .  from  the 
supreme  pontiff  himself,  no  reference  is  made.  It  seems, 
accordingly,  an  inevitable  inference  that  by  one  of  the 
greatest  of  the  Latin  fathers,  writing  at  the  close  of  the 
4th  century,  the  Roman  theory  of  -the  popedom  was 
unrecognized.  But  the  circumstance  which  perhaps  most 
conduceil  to  the  acceptance  of  the  papal  pretensions  was 
Creation  the  creation  of  a  new  office  in  the  ecclesiastical  organiza- 
ol  the  tion,  that  of  the  metropolitan.  So  long  as  Christianity 
mutro^  "  was  the  religion  only  of  an  obscure  sect,  or  of  a  persecuted 
politan.  minority  in  the  Roman  state,  lying  also  under  the  suspi- 
cion of  political  disaffection,  it  probably  sought  to  avoid 
attracting  further  attention  to  itself  by  any  elaborate 
attempt  at  organization.  At  the  same  time  the  political 
organization  of  the  empire,  from  its  long  established  and 
universally  recognized  territorial  divisions,  its  system  of 
intercommunication,  and  its  arrangement  of  the  executive 
power,  must  have  obviously  seemed  to  furnish  the  most 
practicable  outlines  for  the  administration  of  a  great  and 
growing  ecclesiastical  community.  The  chief  cities  or 
metropohis  of  the  several  Roman  provinces  were  accord- 
ingly from  the  first  selected  as  the  seats  of  the  principal 
Christian  churches— Antioch,  Corinth,.  Ephesus,  and 
Thessalonica  respectively  representing  the  chief  ecclesias- 
tical centres  of  Syria,  Achaia,  Asia,  and  Macedonia.  And 
when,  again,  under  Constantine  and  his  successors,  the 
distribution  of  civil  authority  was  further  modified  by 
the  creation  of  four  patriarchates,  subdivided  into  twelve 
"dioceses"  or  major  provinces,  these  changes  were  soon 
followed  by  corresponding  modifications  on  the  part  of  the 
church  organization.  In  this  manner  we  are  able  to 
understand  how  it  is  that  we  find  the  bishop  of  Rome 
successively  assuming,  as  in  the  pontificates  of  Fabianus 
and  Cornelius,  ihe  more  extended  authority  of  a  metro- 
politan,! and,  as  in  the  days  of  Julius"  I.  and  Su-icius,  the 
authority  of  a  patriarch. 

But  no  external  event  exercised  a  more  potent  influence 
on  the  early  history  of  the  Roman  Church  than  the 
removal  of  the  seat  of  imperial  power  to  Constantinople 
(330).  For  more  than  a  century  from  that  event  it  was 
not  a  little  doubtful  whether  the  patriarch  of  "Nova 
Roma"  might  not  succeed  in  asserting  an  authority  to 
2)JHch.even  the  Western  pontiff  might  be  compelled  to 

'  In  fUe  canons  of  the  council  of  Nicsea  (325)  the  aathority  of  a 
metropolitan  is  distinctly  recognized,  and  in  those  of  the  conncil  of 
AntiooU  (341)  it  is  defiueil  with  greater  precisioiv 


defer.  It  became  accordingly  an  object  of  primary 
importance  with  the  latter  to  dissociate  as  far  as  possible 
in  the  mind  of  Christendom  the  notion  of  an  ecclesiastical 
supremacy  derived,  like  that  at  Constantinople,  mainly 
from  the  political  importance  of  the  capital  from  the  con- 
ception of  that  supremacy  which  he  himself  claimed  as  the 
representative  of  the  inalienable  authority  and'  privileges 
conferred  on  St  Peter  and  his  successors.  For  such  a 
policy  an  additional  motive  was  created  by  the  predilection 
shown  by  Constantine  for  his  new  capital,  and  the  convic- 
tion which  he  is  said  to  have  entertained  that  the  days  of 
ancient  Rome  were  numbered.^  From  henceforth  it  was 
the  key-note  to  the  utterances  of  the  Roman  primate  that 
his  supremacy,  as  a  tradition  from  apostolic  times,  could 
never  depart  from  him  and  his  successors,  and  that,  as 
representing  the  authority  of  the  two  chief  apostles,  it 
had  claims  upon  the  obedience  and  reverence  of  the 
whole  Christian  church  such  as  no  other  apostolica  sedes 
could  produce.  To  the  ultimate  assertion  of  these  pre-  Rome  b» 
tensions  the  long  and  fierce  struggle  carried  on  between  '^"'"■^  ^ 
the  followers  of  Arius  and  the  supporters  of  orthodoxy  ^^ho- 
materially  contributed.  The  appeal  to  the  arbitration  of  doxy. 
Rome,  preferred  both  by  Athanasius  and  by  the  Arian 
party,  placed  Julius  I.  (337-352)  in  the  proud  position  of 
the  recognized  protector  of  the  orthodox  faith.  In  the 
year  339  Athanasius  himself  visited  the  Western  capital 
and  resided  there  for  three  years.  His  presence  and 
exhortation  confirmed  the  Roman  pontiff  still  further  in 
his  policy ;  and  from  this  time  we  perceive  the  see  of 
Rome  assuming,  more  distinctly  than  before,  the  right  to 
define  doctrine  and  the  function  of  maintaining  the  true 
standard  of  faith  amid  the  num'erous  heresies  that  were 
then  troubling  the  whole  church.  While  Constantinople 
was  conspicuous  by  its  attachment  to  Arianism,  Rome 
appeared  as  the  champion  of  the  orthodox  belief.  In 
another  direction  the  Western  see  would  appear  to  have 
been  also  advancing  important  and  exclusive  claims.  If 
we  accept  as  genuine  the  letter  of  Julius  to  the  Eusebians, 
written  after  the  acquittal  of  Athanasius,  the  pontifi 
already  maintained  that,  in  all  proceedings  whereby  the 
conduct  or  orthodoxy  of  any  of  the  higher  ecclesiastical 
authorities  was  called  in  question,  the' canonical  method  of 
procedure  required  that  the  Roman  see  should  be  con- 
sulted before  any  initiative  was  taken.  In  other  words, 
the  council  which  had  been  convened  at  Tyre  to  try 
Athanasius  had  usurped  the  functions  which  belonged  to 
the  pontiff  of  Rome  alone. 

During  the  bishopric  of  Libeeius  (352-366)  we  meet 
with  the  first  instance  of  a  schism  in  the  Roman  Church, 
and,  in  the  person "  of  Felix,  with  the  first  representative 
of  that  maintenance  of  a  rival  claim  to  the  see  which  in 
later  history  assumed  such  importance  in  connexion  with 
the  antipopes.  The  contested,  succession  of  Damabos 
(366-384),  although  attended  by  scenes  of  brutal  violence 
and  outrage,  affords  further  illustration  of  the  main  ques- 
tion then  at  issue.  Damasus,  who  had  been  the  personal 
friend  of  Liberius,  represented  the  cause  of  orthodoxy, 
and  his  triumph  over  his  rival,  Ursinus,  was  hailed  with 
exultation  by  the  chief  contemporary  teachers  of  the  church. 
During  his  tenure  of  the  see  Arianism  in  the  West  almost 
ceased  to  exist. 

At  the  council  of  NicKa  (325),  one  of  the  canons  enacted 
(the  sixth)  had  already  assigned  to  the  three  sees,  or 
patriarchates,  of  Rome,  Alexandria,  and  Antioch,  theii 
honorary  rank  in  the  order  of  their  enumeration.     In  the 

*  The  Btory   of    the    ' '  Donation   of   Constantine "   and  the  long 

enumeration  of   the  possessions    which   he  bestowed  on  tjie  church, 

preserved  in  i,he  Liber  Pcmtificalis,  must  be  lool<e<l  upon  as  accretion* 

of  a  later  period.      It  is  supposed,  however;  that  .Constantine  built  tto 

-  original  Vatican  basilica,  the  church  of  St  Agnes,  and  the  Laterau. 


r  u  r  jw  D  o  M 


491 


year  381  the  council  of  Constantinople  was  convened ;  it 
was  an  assembly  in  which  the  Western  Church  took  no 
share,  and  its  notable  third  canon  was  accovdingly  enacted 
without  opposition.  By  this  it  was  declared  that  the 
bishop  of  Constantinople,  or  Nova  Roraa,  was  entitled, 
although  the  representative  of  a  non-apostolic  see,  to  the 
next  place  after  Rome,  and  consequently  to  precedence  6f 
the  older  and  apostolic  sees  of  Alexandria  and  Antioch. 
This  distinguished  position  was  assigned  to  him  as  the 
supreme  ecclesiastical  authority  in  the  newcentre  of  political 
power,  and  a  theory  of  the  basis  of  ecclesiastical  dignity 
was  thus  put  forward  by  the  church  which  was  in  direct 
conflict  with  that  maintained  by  Rome. 

The  pontificate  of  SraicitJs  (384-398)  is  chiefly  remark- 
able as  that  with  which  commences  the  series  known  as 
the  Decretals — a  collection  of  pastoral  letters  and  of  replies 
to  questions  submitted  for  their  consideration  sent  by  the 
popes  to  the  churches  of  the  West.  These  subsequently 
formed  the  basis  of  a  vast  and  elaborate  series  of  forgeries 
known  as  the  decretals  of  the  pseudo-Isidorus,  of  which  we 
sliall  have  occasion  again  to  speak ;  but  the  genuineness 
of  the  letter  of  Siricius  to  Himerius,  bishop  of  Tarragona, 
does  not  appear  to  have  ever  been  called  in  question,  and 
ft  takes  its  stand  therefore  as  the  earliest  existing  de- 
cretal. In  the  influence  which  they  exercised  upon  Western 
Christianity  neither  Siricius  nor  his  successor  Anastasius 
I.  (398-401)  could  compare  with  their  illustrious  contem- 
porary, Ambrpse,  bishop  of  Milan,  whom  the  emperor 
Theodosius  pronounced  to  be  the  only  true  bishop  whom 
he  had  known.  But  Ambrose,  although  acting  in  perfect 
independence  of  the  Roman  see,  always  professed  to  take 
it  as  his  model  in  matters  of  discipline,  and  by  the  respect 
which  his  example  inspired  in  others  for  the  episcopal 
oflice  in  general  he  indirectly  augmented  the  conception  of 
the  papal  prerogatives, 
isioa  With  the  division  of  the  empire  in  the  year  395  the 
^^  question  of  the  Roman  precedence  of  Constantinople  was 
■left  for  a  time'  in  abeyance;  but  in  the  West  the  authority 
of  the  bishop  of  Rome  became  more  and  more  firmly 
established.  In  the  following  century  the  general  condi- 
tions under  which  he  was  called  upon  to  act  became  so 
materially  modified  as  to  constitute  a  new  period  in  the 
history  of  our  subject. 
169  of  The  characters  of  the  men  who  filled  the  papal  chair 
tury.  during  this  century,  most  of  them  of  exemplary  life,  some 
of  commanding  genius,  would  alone  suffice  to  constitute  it 
\  a  memorable  era.  "  Upon  the  mind  of  Innocent  I.,  "  says 
Milman,  "  seems  first  distinctly  to  have  dawned  the  vast 
conception  of  Rome's  universal  ecclesiastical  supremacy." 
LvNOCENT  I.  (402-417)  seems  indeed  to  have  been  the  first 
of  the  popes  who  ventured  to  repudiate  those  political 
conceptions  which  threatened  to  circumscribe  the  extend- 
ing influence  of  his  office.  Writing  in  the  year  415  to 
Alexander,  bishop  of  Antioch,  he  implies  that  the  church 
in  that  city,  as  an  "aliostolica  sedes,'.'  is  entitled  to  rank 
second  only  to  Rome ;  "  but  not,"  he  adds,  "  so  much  on 
account  of  the  grandeur  of  the  city  itself  as  because  it  is 
shown  to  be  the  first  apostolic' see  "  (Mansi,  Concilia,  vol. 
iii.  p.  1055).  In  tiie  same  letter  he  distinctly  repudiates 
the  notion  that  the  church  is  bound  by  political  divisions  ; 
the  emperor  may  create  two  capitals  (mcfropokis),  but  it 
by  no  means  follows  that  a  second  metropolitan  is  to  bo 
appointed  by  the  church.  In  the  year  412  he  gave 
practical  proof  of  his  determination  to  assert  his  own 
theory  of  his  prerogatives,  by  appftinting  the  archbishop 
of  Thessalonica  his  vicar  over  the  extensive  province  of 
Illyricura,  of  which  but  a  small  portion  lay  in  the  Western 
empire ;  and,  when  the  bishops  of  the  province  showed 
thomsolves  less  amenable  than  he  had  anticii)ated  to  his 
directions  in  matters  of  discipline,  he  insisted  with  unpre- 


cedented explicitness  on  the  jurisdiction  of  his  see  as 
"head  of  all  the  churches."  Innocent  was  succeeded  bv 
ZosiMUs  (417-418)  and  Boniface  (418-422).  The  former, 
whose  pontificate  lasted  only  twenty-one  months,  exhibits 
a  noteworthy  exception  to  the  traditions  of  his  see,  in  the 
disposition  he  at  one  time  showed  to  temporize  with  Pela- 
gianism,  and  even  to  set  aside  in  its  favour  the  decrees  of 
his  predecessor.  The  pontificate  of  Boniface  is  notable  aa 
having  been  preceded  by  a  contested  election  which  afforded 
the  emperor  Honorius  an  opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  his 
intervention,  thereby  establishing  a  precedent  for  imperial 
interference  on  like  occasions.  At  the  instance  of  Boniface 
himself,  Honorius  enacted  an  ordinance  designed  to  avert 
the  scandals  incident  to  such  contests.  By  the  new  pro- 
visions, all  canvassing  for  the  vacant  chair  was  strictly 
prohibited ;  in  the  event  of  a  disputed  election  both 
candidates  were  to  be  deemed  ineligible ;  finally,  it  waa 
essential  to  any  election  that  the  candidate  should  have 
been  chosen  by  the  unsolicited  suffrages  of  the  qualified 
clergy,  and  that  their  choice  should  have  been  ratified  by 
the  approval  of  the  entire  church  community.  The  sec- 
cessor  of  Boniface  was  Ccelestinus  I.  (422-432).  The 
evidence  afforded  by  the  events  of  his  pontificate  is  some- 
what conflicting  in  character.  On  the  one  hand,  we  find 
the  churches  of  Africa  putting  forward  their  latest  recorded 
protest  against  the  Roman  pretensions,  adducing  the  sixth 
canon  of  the  council  of  Nicaea  in  support  of  their  protest ; 
on  the  other  hand,  the  success  with  which  Coelestinus  inter- 
vened in  Illyricum,  and  again  in  connexion  with  the  sees 
of  Narbonne  and  Vienne,  proves  that  the  papal  jurisdiction 
was  being  accepted  with  increasing  deference  in  other  parts 
of  the  empire.  The  effect  with  which  his  solicited  decision 
was  given  in  the  controversy  raised  by  Nestorius,  the 
patriarch  of  Constantinople,  and  the  synod  held  under  his 
auspices  in  Rome  (430)  for  the  further  consideration  of 
the  same  question,  likewise  added  to  the  reputation  of  his 
office. 

Barbaric  invasion,  although  resulting  in  the  overtluow  icffi-ots  «> 
of  many  of  the  institutions  of  civilization,  and  in  wide-  ji"y|^'j^^ 
spread  suffering  and  social  deterioration,  served  but  to 
enhance  the  influence  and  importance  of  the  Roman  see. 
The  apparent  fulfilment  of  prophecy,  pagan  as  well  as 
Christian,  when  the  city  was  taken  and  sacked  by  Alaric 
-(410),  seemed  to  complete  the  effacement  of  the  tem- 
poral power  in  Rome.  Neither  the  Western  emperors 
nor  the  Gothic  conquerors  held  their  court  in  the  ancient 
capital,  where  the  pope  was  now  at  once  the  most  import- 
ant and  conspicuous  authority.  In  the  African  provinces^ 
the  demoralization  occasioned  by  the  fierce  controversies 
and  dissensions  concerning  Pelagianism  and  Donatism 
compelled  the  Catholic  communities  to  exchange  their 
former  attitude  of  haughty  independence  for  one  of  sup- 
pliant appeal,  and  to  solicit  the  intervention  and  counsel 
which  they  had  before  rejected.  Such  was  the  aspect  of 
affairs  in  the  West  when  Leo  the  Gkkat  (440-461) — 
by  some  regarded  as  the  true  founder  of  the  mediaeval 
popedom — succeeded  to  the  primacy.  A  citizen  of  Rome 
by  birth,  he  exemplified  in  his  owu  character  many  of  the 
antique  Roman  virtues — a  tenacious  adherence  to  tradi- 
tion in  matters  of  religious  belief,  an  indomitable  resolu- 
tion in  the  assertion  of  the  prerogatives  of  his  office,  and 
the  austere  practice  of  the  recognized  duties  of  social  life. 
This  rigid  maintenance  of  orthodoxy  had  been  instilled 
into  hira  (or  at  least  confirmed)  by  the  exhortations  of 
Augustine,  with  whom  he  hod  become  personally  acquainted 
when  on  a  mission  to  the  African  jirovince ;  and  before 
his  election  to  the  papal  office  the  celebrated  Cassian  had 
conceived  so  high  an  opinion  of  his  virtues  and  abiliticp 
as  to  dedicate  to  him  his  treatise  on  the  Incarnation.  Re 
gardcd,  indeed,  simply  as  the  able  antagonist  of  the  Maui 


i92 


POPEDOM 


chaean  and  Eutychian  heresies,  and  as  the  first  author  of  the 
Collect,  Leo  would  fill  no  unimportant  place  in  the  annals 
of  Latin  Christendom ;  but  his  influence  on  church  history 
in  other  respects  is  of  a  far  deeper  and  more  potent  kind. 
In  none  was  it  followed  by  more  important  results  than 
by  the  success  with  which  he  established  the  theory  that 
all  bishops  who,  in  questions  of  importance,  demurred  to 
the  decision  of  their  metropolitan  should  be  entitled  to 
appeal  to  Rome.  He  obtained  the  recognition  of  this 
principle  not  only  in  lUyricum,  as  his  predecessor  Inno- 
cent had  done,  but  also  in  Gaul;  and  the  circumstances 
under  which  he  did  so  in  the  latter  province  constitute  the 
whole  proceedings  a  memorable  episode  in  church  history. 
Celidonius,  bishop  of  Besan^on,  had  been  removed  from 
his  bishopric  by  his  metropolitan,  the  eminent  Hilary  of 
Aries,  and  determined  to  proceed  to  Eome  to  appeal 
against  his  sentence  in  person.  He  was  followed  thither 
by  Hilary,  wLo  courageously  protested  against  any  exercise 
of  the  pontifical  authority  which  should  trench  upon  his 
own  as  metropolitan,  and  for  which,  in  the  present 
instance,  it  seems  to  be  generally  admitted  that  the  canons 
of  the  church  down  to  the  time  of  Dionysius  Exiguus 
(fl.  625)  afi'orded  no  sanction.*  Leo,  however,  not  only 
annulled  the  sentence  of  deprivation,  but  condemned 
Hilary's  entire  conduct.  The  latter  could  only  remonstrate 
in  terms  of  energetic  but  inefifectual  protest,  and  then 
took  his  departure  from  the  city  to  die  soon  after  at  Aries. 
His  name,  along  with  that  of  Irenaiua,  stands  at  the  head 
of  that  long  succession  of  able  churchmen  who,  sometimes 
in  conjunction  with  the  temporal  power  and  sometimes  in- 
dependently of  it,  have  gained  for  the  Galilean  Church  a 
character  for  systematic  opposition  to  the  encroachments 
of  the  Roman  see  which  (if  we  except  the  Church  of 
Utrecht)  is  unique  among  the  communities  of  Western 
Catholicism.  In  a  circular  letter  to  the  churches  of  Gaul, 
Leo  subsequently  passed  a  formal  and  deliberate  censure 
upon  Hilary's  conduct ;  and  this  measure  was  followed  up 
by  an  imperial  edict,  in  which,  again,  we  have  a  remark- 
able illustration  of  that  compact  between  the  state  and  the 
church  which  assumed  such  importance  at  a  later  period. 
In  this  decree  of  Valentinian  HI.  (445)  the  primacy  of 
Romo  Rome  is  placed  upon  a  triple  basis — the  merits  of  St 
consti-  Peter,  the  majesty  of  the  city  of  Rome,  and  the  authority 
tKted  a  of  a  council  (sacrx  synodi  auctoritas).  To  which  of  the 
«°D^al  co;incils  reference  is  intended  is  by  no  means  clear ;  but 
all  bishops  are  required  by  this  imperial  edict  to  present 
themselves  when  summoned  at  the  tribunal  of  the  Roman 
pontiff  (Novelise,  ed.  Hanel,  pp.  172-5).  As,  prior  to  this 
time,  the  emperors  themselves  had  always  claimed,  though 
they  had  not  invariably  exercised,  the  right  of  representing 
a  supreme  court  of  appeal,  this  transfer  of  such  a  preroga- 
tive to  Rome  may  fairly  be  regarded  as  marking  the  com- 
mencement of  a  new  era  in  the  conception  of  the  papal 
office. 

The  chief  obstacle  to  the  recognition  of  the  supremacy 
of  the  Roman  pontiff  was  now  to  be  found  in  th^e  revival 
of  Arianism,  which,  professed  alike  by  the  Goth  and  the 
Vandal,  represented  the  dominant  faith  in  the  chief  cities 
of  northern  Italy,  as  well  as  in  Africa,  fspain,  and  southern 
Gaul.  But  the  rivalry  thus  generated  only  increased  the 
disposition  of  the  Catholic  party  to  exalt  the  prerogatives 
of  their  head,  and  the  attitude  of  Rome  towards  other 
churches  continued  to  be  more  and  more  one  of  unques- 
tionable superiority.  In  the  year  483  Pope  Felix  II.  (or 
ELL)  ventured  upon  an  unprecedented  measure  in  citing 
Acacius,  the  patriardh  of  Constantinople,  to  Rome,  to 
answer  certain  allegations  preferred  against  him  by  John, 

'  That  is,  unless  we  admit  the  genuineness  of  the  canons  of  the 
council  of  Sardica  (343),  which  probably  few  who  have  studied  the 
evidence  will  be  prepared  to  do. 


patriarch  of  Alexandria,  whom  he  designates  as  "frater 
et  coepiscopus  noster "  (Thiel,  Fpistolx,  p.  239).  On 
Acacius  refusing  to  recognize  the  legcUty  of  the  letter 
of  citation,  he  was  excommimicated  by  Felix.  The  suc- 
cessor of  Felix,  GEUtsiTJS  I.  (492-496),  refused  to  notify, 
as  was  customary,  his  election  to  the  patriarch  of  Con- 
stantinople, and  by  his  refusal  implicitly  put  forward  a 
fresh  assumption,  viz.,  that  communion  with  Rome  implied 
subjection  to  Rome.  Throughout  the  pontificate  of  Gela- 
sius  the  primacy  of  the  Roman  see  was  the  burden  of  his 
numerous  letters  to  other  churches,  and  he  appears  also  to 
have  been  the  first  of  the  pontiffs  to  enunciate  the  view 
that  the  authority  which  he  represented  was  not  con- 
trollable by  the  canons  of  synods,  whether  past  or  present. 
In  Italy  these  assumptions  were  unhesitatingly  accepted. 
The  Palmary  Sjmod,  as  it  was  termed,  convened  in  Rome 
during  the  pontificate  of  Symmachus  (498^514)  formally 
disavowed  its  own  right  to  sit  in  judgment  on  his  admin- 
istrative acts.  Ennodius,  bishop  of  Pa  via  (circ.  510), 
declared  that  the  Roman  pontiff  was  to  be  judged  by  God 
alone,  and  was  not  amenable  to  any  earthly  potentate  or 
tribunal.  It  is  thus  evident  that  the  doctrine  of  papal 
infallibility,  though  not  yet  formulated,  was  already  virtu- 
ally recognized. 

During  the  Gothic  rule  in  Italy  (493-553),  its  repre- 
sentatives manifested  the  utmost  tolerance  in  relation  to 
religious  questions,  and  showed  little  disposition  to  impose 
any  restraints  on  the  policy  of  the  popes,  although  each 
monarch,  by  virtue  of  his  title  of  "  king  of  the  Romans,'' 
claimed  the  right  to  veto  apy  election  to  the  papal  chair. 
In  the  year  483,  when  Odoacer  sent  his  first  lieutenant, 
Basilius,  from  Ravenna  to  Rome,  the  latter  was  invested 
with- the  titles  "  eminentissimus  "  and  "sublimis."  The 
pope  accordingly  appeared  as  politically  the  subject  of  his 
Arian  overlord.  1110  advantage  thus  gained  by  the  tem- 
poral power  appears  to  have  been  the  result  of  its  inter- 
vention, which  SiiiPLicrus  (468-483)  had  himself  solicited, 
in  the  elections  to  the  papal  office,  and  one  of  the  principal 
acts  of  the  Palmary  Synod  (above  referred  to)  was  to 
repudiate  the  chief  measures  of  BasUius,  which  had  been 
especially  directed  against  the  abuses  that  prevailed  oc 
such  occasions,  and  more  particularly  against  "bribery  by 
alienation  of  the  church  lands.  The  assertion  of  this 
authority  on  the  part  of  the  civil  power  was  declared  by  the 
synod  to  be  irregular  and  uncanonical,  and  was  accordingly 
set  aside  as  not  binding  on  the  church.  The  fierce  con- 
tests and  shameless  bribery  which  now  accompanied  almost 
every  election  were  felt,  however,  to  be  so  grave  a  scandal 
that  the  synod  itself  deemed  it  expedient  to  adopt  the 
ordinance  issued  by  Basilius,  and  to  issue  it  as  one  of 
its  own  enactments.  In  order  more  effectually  to  guard 
against  such  abuses,  Boniface  II.,  in  the  year  5-30, 
obtained  from  a  synod  specially  convened  for  the  purpose 
the  power  of  appointing  his  own  successor,  and  nominated 
one  Vigilius — the  same  who  ten  years  later  actually  suc- 
ceeded to  the  oflSce.  But  a  second  synod,  having  decided 
that  such  a  concession  was  contrary  to  the  traditions  of 
episcopal  succession,  annulled  the  grant,  and  Boniface 
himself  committed  .the  former  decree  to  the  flames.  At 
his  death,  however,  the  recurrence  of  the  old  abuses  in  a 
yet  more  flagrant  form  induced  the  senate  to  obtain  from 
the  court  of  Ravenna  a  measure  of  reform  of  a  more  com- 
prehensive character,  and  designed  to  check,  not  only  the 
simoniacal  practices  within  the  church  itself,  but  also  the 
extortion  of  the  court  officials. 

In  the  year  526  Dionysius  Exiguus,  a  monk  in  Rome, 
undertook  the  labour  of  preparing  a  new  collection  of  thf 
canons  of  the  councils,  and,  finding  his  prodiiction  favour- 
ably received,  proceeded  also  to  compile  a  like  coUectiop 
of  the  papel  letters  or  decretals,  from  the  earliest  extant 


The 

Gothic 

monarclt 


P  0  r  E  D  O  M 


493 


down  to  those  of  Anastasius  11.  in  his  own  day.  The 
letters  of  the  popes  were  thus  placed  on  a  level  with  the 
rescripts  of  the  emperors,  and  in  conjunction  with  the 
«uions  formed  the  basis  of  the  canon  law,  which  afterwards 
assumed  such  importance  in  connexion  with  the  history  of 
the  church.  The  negative  value  of  the  collection  formed 
by  Dionysius  may  be  said,  however,  almost  to  equal  that 
of  its  actual  contents ;  for,  from  the  simple  fact  that  it 
does  not  contain  those  yet  earlier  decretals  subsequently 
put  forth  by  the  pseudo-Isidorus,  it  affords  the  most  con- 
vincing disproof  of  their  genuineness. 

The  substitution  of  the  rule  of  the  Greek  emperors  for 
that  of  the  Gothic  monarchs  was  inimical  in  almost  every 
respect  to  the  independence  and  reputation  of  the  pope- 
dom. For  a  short  interval  before  Justinian  landed  in 
Italy,  AoAPETUs  (535-536),  appearing  as  the  emissary  of 
Theodotus  to  the  Eastern  court,  assumed  a  bearing  which 
inspired  the  emperor  himself  with  respect,  and  his  influ- 
ence was  sufficiently  potent  to  procure  the  deposition  of 
one  patriarch  of  the  Eastern  capital  and  to  decide  the 
election  of  another.  But,  after  Belisarius  entered  Home 
and  the  city  had  been  reduced  to  subjection,  the  pontiff 
was  seen  to  be  the  mere  vassal  of  the  emperor,  and  not 
only  of  the  emperor  but  of  the  courtezan  on  the  imperial 
throne.  The  deposition  of  Silverixts  (53^-540),  and  his 
mysterious  fate  at  Pandataria,  together  with  the  elevation 
of  ViGiLius  (540-555),  the  nominee  of  the  abandoned 
ITieodora  and  her  pliant  slave,  completed  the  degradation 
of  the  Roman  see.  Each  successive  pope  was  now  little 
more  than  a  puppet  which  moved  at  the  pleasure  of  the 
Eastern  court ;  and  the  apocrisiarius  or  deputy  whom  he 
maintained  at  that  court  was  generally  (as  in  the  case  of 
Pelagius  I.,  Gregory  I.,  Sabinian,  Boniface  III.,  Martin) 
his  own  successor — an  honour  purchased,  it  can  hardly  be 
doubted,  by  systematic  compliance  with  the  imperial  wishes. 
In  the  career  and  fate  of  Vigilius  the  papal  ofEce  was  dis- 
honoured as  it  had  never  been  before,  at  once  by  the  signal 
unworthiness  of  its  bearer  and  by  the  indignities  heaped 
upon  him  by  the  savage  malice  of  his  foes.  So  sinister, 
indeed,  had  become  the  relations  between  the  Ronian 
bishop  and  the  Eastern  court  that  Pelagius  I.  (555-560) 
is  said  to  have  besought  Narses  to  send  him  to  prison 
rather  than  to  Constantinople. 

In  the  year  568  the  Lombards  invaded  Italy.  Like  the 
Goths  they  become  converts  to  Arianism ;  but  they  were 
also  far  less  civilized,  and  looked  with  little  respect  on 
Roman  institutions  and  Roman  habits  of  thought,  while 
their  arrogance,  faithlessness,  and  cruelty  gained  for  them 
the  special  detestation  of  the  Roman  see.  Their  conquests 
did  not  extend  over  all  Italy.  Ravenna  and  the  Penta- 
polis,  Venice,  Rome  and  its  duchy  (as  the  surrounding 
district  was  then  termed),  Naples,  Calabria,  and  Sicily 
remained  subject  to  the  empire.  In  the  peninsula  the 
pope  was,  after  the  exarch  of  Ravenna,  the  most  powerful 
potentate,  and  the  presence  of  a  common  foe  caused  the 
relations  between  himself  and  the  empire  to  assume  a 
more  amicable  character.  The  emperor,  indeed,  continued 
to  control  \he  elections  and  to  enforce  the  payment  of 
tribute  for  the  territory  protected  by  the  imperial  arms ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  pontiff  exercised  a  definite 
Authority  within  the  Roman  duchy  and  claimed  to  have 
a,  voice  in  the  appointment  of  the  civil  officers  who 
administered  the  local  government.  From  the  time  of 
Constantino  the  Great  the  church  had  possessed  the 
right  of  acquiring  landed  property  by  bequesta  from  indi- 
vidualsj  and  the  Roman  see  had  thus  become  greatly 
enriched.  Some  of  its  possessions  lay  far  beyond  the  con- 
fines of  Italy.  It  was  one  of  the  last  acts  of  Celestine  I. 
to  address  to  the  emperor  Thcodosius  II.  an  appeal  for 
the  imperial  protection  of  certain  estates  in  Asia,  which 


a  lady  named  Proba  had  bequeathed  to  the  Roman  eee 
for  the  maintenance  of  "  the  clergy,  the  poor,  and  cer- 
tain monasteries"  (Coustant,  ed.  Schoenemann,  p.  879). 
"  Ever  since  the  restriction  of  the  Western  empire,"  says 
Mr  Bryce,  "  had  emancipated  the  ecclesiastical  potentate 
from  secular  control,  the  first  and  most  abiding  object  of 
his  schemes  and  prayers  had  been  the  acquisition  of 
territorial  wealth  in  tha  neighbourhood  of  his  capital.  Ha 
had  indeed  a  sort  of  justification,  for  Rome,  a  city  witl^ 
neither  trade  nor  industry,  was  crowded  with  poor,  for 
whom  it  devolved  on  the  bishop  to  provide."  The  motives 
for  acquiring  such  wealth  did  not,  accordingly,  cease  to 
actuate  the  pontiff,  even  when  the  paralysing  influences  of 
the  imperial  despotism  were  again  very  sensibly  felt;  but 
the  territory  thus  gained,  known  aa  the  "  patrimonium 
Petri,"  must  not  be  supposed  to  have  involved  that  claim 
to  temporal  sovereignty  put  forth  at  a  later  period.  Ori-^ 
ginally  bestowed  mainly  for  the  relief  of  the  sick  and  desti- 
tute, the  patrimonial  revenues  came,  in  course  of  time,  to 
be  applied  to  the  maintenance  of  the  pope  himself  and 
the  clergy  of  his  diocese,  and  to  the  erection  and  repair  of 
churches.  They  were  strictly  inalienable ;  and  the  pontiff 
himself  was  regarded  simply  as  the  steward,  for  the  time 
being,  of  the  estate. 

Under  Gregory  L   (590-604),    commonly   known  as  Gregpr? 
"the  Great,"  this  territorial  wealth  became  largely  aug- '''®^'"'"' 
mented  ;  and,  although,  amid  the  universal  demoralization 
and  widespread  misery  of  his  age,  he  professed  to  discern 
the  unmistakable  signs  of  the  approaching  end  of  the 
world,  the  efficient  administration  of  the  estates  of  the 
church  was  an  object  of  his  unceasing  solicitude.      Of 
noble  descent,  great  wealth,  and  considerable  learning,  he 
possessed  also  a  capacity  for  administration  not  inferior  to 
that  of  his  predecessor  Leo,  and  his  best  energies  were 
devoted  to  the  interests  of  his  diocese  and  the  alleviation 
of  the  want  and  misery  of  which  it  was  the  constant  scene. 
His  Letters,  which  constitute  a  remarkable  picture  both  of 
the  man  and  his  age,  and  attest  the  minute  and  unwearied 
care  which  he  bestowed  on  everything  relating  to  the  affairs 
of  his  see,  appear  to  have  been  taken  as  the  model  for  the 
Liber  Diurnus,  or  journal  of  the  Roman  curia,  which  was 
commenced  in  the  following  century.      In  other  respects 
his  genius  for  administration,  his  good  sense  and  tact,  are 
equally  conspicuous.     Through  his  influence  with  Theude- 
linda,  the  wife  of  Agilulf,  the  Lombard  monarch,  he  not 
only  succeeded  in  averting  another  siege  of  Rome,  hut  he 
also  managed  to  bring  about  the  estabhshment  of  amicable 
relations  between  the  Lombards  and  the  Roman  popula- 
tion.   With  the  Byzantine  court  he  did  his  best  to  maintain 
a  friendly  intercourse,  although  in  his  zeal  on  behalf  of 
monasticism  he  withdrew  his  apocri^arius  from  Constan- 
tinople, when  the  emperor  Maurice  forbade  his  soldiers  to 
as.sume  the  monastic  life.     It  is  perhaps  the  greatest  blot 
on  Gregory's  memory  that,  when  the  emperor  and  his  family 
were  cruelly  murdered  by  Phoca.'*,  who  seized  upon  the 
imperial  dignity,  Gregory  was  not  above  congratulating  the 
usurper  on  the  circumstances  of  his  accession,  an  act  of 
adulation  but  insufficiently  extenuated  by  his  panegj'rista, 
as  taking  its  rise  in  feelings  of  genuine,  though  mistaken, 
religious  enthusiasm.    His  efforts  on  behalf  of  primary  edu- 
cation, which  have  caused  him  to  take  rank  in  the  Roman 
calendar  as  the  patron  saint  of  school  festivals,  are  deserv- 
ing of  high  praise ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  his  illiberal 
condemnation  of  the  pagan  literature  (in  striking  contrast 
to  the  Benedictine  traditions  of  a  later  time)  diminishes 
not  a  little  our  impression   of  his   real   greatness.     He 
stands,  however,  among  the  foremost  of  the  popes,  and  the 
impress  of  his  character  and  teaching  must  be  held  to 
have  permanently  modified  the  views  and  policy  of  the 
Roman  curia. 


494 


POPEDOM 


•The  Bnc-  The  personal  qualities  ~  and  virtues  of  Gregc^y  are 
cessore  of  thrown  into  stronger  relief  by  the  comparative  insigni- 
Gregofy-  ficance  of  his  successors  in  the  7th  century,  whose  tenure 
of  office  was,  for  the  most  part,  singularly  brief  and  in- 
glorious. His  immediate  successor  was  Sabiniands  (604— 
606),  who  after  a  few  months'  tenure  of  office,  and  an  inter- 
val of  a  whole  year  which  remains  entirely  unaccounted  for, 
was  succeeded  by  Boniface  III.  (607).  Boniface  was  the 
last  apocrisiarius  who  had  represented  Gregory  at  the  im- 
perial court,  and  he  appears  to  have  been  successful  in 
completely  winning  the  favour  of  Phocae,  who  at  his  sug- 
gestion passed  a  decree  declaring  "  the  Apostolic  Church  of 
Rome  "  to  be  *■'  the  head  of  all  the  churches."  He  did  this, 
says  Paulus  Diaconus,  "because  the  church  of  Constan- 
tinople had  styled  itself  the  first  of  all  the  churches."^  In 
this  manner  the  imperial  veto  was  distinctly  pronounced 
on  the  claim  of  the  Byzantine  Church  to  be  regarded  as  of 
universal  authority — a  claim,  which  it  now  became  the 
policy  of  the  Church  of  Rome  to  assert  on  her  own  behalf 
on  every  possible  occasion.  The  new  and  intimate  relations 
which  Gregory  and  his  emissaries  had  created  between  the 
church  and  the  great  Teutonic  races  especially  favoured 
these  assumptions.  Frankland  and  England  alike  were 
brought  within  the  range  of  influences  of  incalculable 
after  importance,  the  development  of  which  in  the  7th  and 
8th  centuries  may  fairly  be  looked  upon  as  constituting 
a  distinct  era  in  the  history  of  the  popedom.  In  Rome 
itself,  on  the  other  hand,  the  interest  of  the  drama  becomes 
perceptibly  lessened.  In  the  long  and  rapid  succession  of 
the  pontiffs,  most  of  them  pliant  Greeks  or  Syrians,  the 
nominees  of  the  exarch  of  Ravenna,  and  intent  on  winning 
the  favour  of  both  the  emperor  and  his  representative, 
scarcely  One  appears  as  actuated  by  more  than  the  tradi- 
tional views  of  his  office  and  its  functions.  One  of  them, 
who  ventured  to  thwart  the  imperial  purpose,  paid  dearly 
for  his  conscientiousness.  The  Byzantine  capital,  at  this 
period,  was  distracted  by  the  interminable  controversies 
carried  on  between  the  Monothelites  and  their  opponents. 
The  emperor,  the  half-insane  Constans,  arrogated  to  him- 
self the  function  of  mediating  between  the  contending 
parties,  and  sought  to  wring  from  SIaetin  L  (649-653) 
an  authoritative  assent  to  a  compromise  of  doctrine  which, 
to  that  pontiff,  appeared  to  involve  the  sacrifice  of  ortho- 
doxy. The  latter  convened  a  council  at  the  Lateran  and 
formally  condemned  the  proposed  solution.  He  was  soon 
after  induced  to  repair  to  Constantinople,  and,  having  there 
been  arraigned  on  a  false  charge  of  fomenting  political  in- 
trigue, was  deprived  of  his  see  and,  although  in  advanced 
years  and  feeble  health,  banished  to  a  gloomy  prison  on  the 
Euxine,  where  he  soon  after  died. 
Advances  But,  while  thus  menaced  and  dishonoured  in  Italy,  the 
made  by  papal  power  was  making  important  advances  in  the  west, 
papacv  in  England  the  resistance  offered  by  the  representatives 
the  West.  °^  ^^  British  Church  was  soon  overcome,  and  from  the 
time  of  the  council  of  Whitby  (664)  the  teachings  and 
traditions  of  Gregory,  as  enforced  by  Augustine,  Theodonis, 
Wilfrid,  and  others,  found  ready  acceptance.  The  human- 
izing influences  which  these  representatives  of  the  Roman 
culture  diffused  around  them  exercised  a  potent  spell  over 
the  minds  and  wills  of  the  English  population.  Monas- 
teries were  founded ;  cathedrals  rose,  each  with  its  school 
of  instruction  for  the  young,  and  its  charity  for  the  needy; 
and  a  spirit  of  filial  though  far  from  slavish  devotion  to 
Rome  was  everywhere  created. 

In  Frankland,  however,  the  Merovingian  kings  and 
the  populations   of   Neustria   and  Australia  exhibited  a 

'  De  Oestia  Longobard.,  bk.  iv.,  c.  36  ;  this  remarkable  passage  is 
reproduced  by  Bede,  De  Temporum  Ratione,  Migne,  Patrol.,  xc.  665; 
and  also  by  Anastasius,  De  Vitia  Rom.  Pont.,  in  life  of  Boniface  III., 
Migne.  Pairol.,  cxxviii.  671. 


different  spirit,  and  the  civil  power  showed  no  disposition 
to  welcome  foreign  interference  even  in  connexion  with 
ecclesiastical  institutions.  It  is  observed  by  Guizot  that 
from  the  death  of  Gregory  the  Great  to  the  time  of 
Gregory  II.  (604-715)  not  a  single  document  exists  which 
can  be  cited  as  proof  of  intercommunication  between  the 
rulers  of  Frankland  and  the  papacy.  The  series  of  events 
which  led  to  such  diff'erent  relations,  enabling  the  Roman 
pontiff  eventually  to  shake  off  both  his  fear  of  the  Lombard 
and  his  long  dependence  on  the  Byzantine  emperor,  forms 
one  of  the  most  interesting  passages  in  European  history. 
In  the  year  715  the  long  succession  of  pliant  Greeks 
and  Syrians  in  the  papal  chair  was  broken  by  the  election 
of  a  man  of  Roman  birth  and  endowed  with  much  of  the 
strength  of  purpose  that  belonged  to  the  ancient  Roman. 
In  Gkegoey  n.  (715-731)  men  recognized  no  unworthy 
successor  of  his  great  namesake,  and  by  Gibbon  he  is 
regarded  as  the  true  "founder  of  the  papal  monarchy." 
In  no  respect  were  his  care  and  religious  sentiments 
more  conspicuously  manifested  than  in  connexion  with 
the  evangelization  of  distant  lands,  and  it  was  under 
his  auspices  that  the  celebrated  Winfrid  or  Boniface  first 
commenced  his  famous  missionary  work  in  Frankland. 
His  rapid  success  in  the  work  of  converting  the  still 
heathen  populations  is  a  familiar  story.  From  Gregoey 
IIL  (731-741)  Boniface  received  the  appointment  of  papal 
legate;  he  took  the  oath  of  perpetual  fidelity  to  the  supreme 
pontiff,  and  wherever  he  went  he  preached  the  duty  of  a 
like  submission.  He  enforced  the  theory  of  the  Catholic 
unity  and  of  the  obligation  of  the  whole  body  of  the  clergy 
to  render  implicit  obedience  to  the  representativb  of  that 
unity, — the  successor  of  St  Peter,  the  spiritual  superior  of 
all  earthly  tribunals. 

While  bonds  of  union  were  thus  being  created  in  the  Raptnw 
West,  theological  differences  were  exercising  a  very  differ-  with  the 
ent  though  not  less  important  influence  in  the  East.  It  *™P"*- 
was  in  the  year  731  that  Gregory  IIL,  the  last  of  the 
pontiffs  who  received  the  confirmation  of  his  privileges 
from  Constantinople,  issued  a  sentence  of  excommunication 
'igainst  the  Iconoclasts.  It  was  the  papal  rejoinder  to  the 
decree  of  Leo  the  Isaurian,  passed  in  the  preceding  year, 
commanding  that  all  images  in  the  churches  of  the  empire 
should  be  forthwith  removed.  Although  he  was  a  Syrian 
by  birth,  orthodoxy  was  dearer  to  Gregory  than  political 
allegiance,  and  the  sequel-  justified  his  policy.  The 
emperor,  indeed,  retaliated  by  what  could  not  but  be 
deemed  a  disastrous  blow.  All  the  dioceses  within  the 
empire  where  the  Roman  pontiff  had  hitherto  claimed 
obedience — Calabria,  Sicily,  and  Ulyricum — were  forth- 
with absolved  from  their  ecclesiastical  allegiance,  and  the 
revenues  from  their  rich  "  patrimonies,"  which  had  before 
flowed  into  the  papal  treasury,  were  confiscated.  But  the 
tie  which  had  hitherto  bound  the  popedom  to  the  em^ir-e 
was  thus  effectually  broken. 

Under  these  circumstances  a  compact  with  Ihe  Lom- 
bards, who  had  by  this  time  become  converts  from 
Arianism  to  the  Catholic  faith,  would  have  seemed  the 
obvious  policy  on  the  part  of  Rome,  had  not  the  political 
aims  of  the  former  stood  in  the  way.  The  Lombard 
coveted  the  possession  of  the  capital,  and  this  design,  the 
cherished  design  of  centuries,  marked  him  out  as  perforce 
the  foe  of  the  popedom.  In  his  extremity,  therefore,  the 
Roman  pontiff  turned  to  the  Frank,  untainted  by  the 
heresy  of  Arianism,  and  already,  as  the  result  of  the  teach- 
ing, of  Boniface,  disposed  to  assent  to  any  claims  of  the 
papacy  which  did  not  involve  the  diminution  of  his  own 
prerogatives  or  the  restoration  of  alienated  revenues.  In 
the  year  752  Pepin  le  Bref  assumed  the  dignity  and  title 
of  "  king  of  the  Franks."  He  did  so,  the  annalists  are 
unanimous  in  assuring  us,  with  the  consent  and  sanctioa 


POPEDOM 


495 


oT  Pope  Zadiarias,  and  he  was  anointed  and  crowned  by 
Boniface — a  momentous  precedent  in  relation  to  European 
history.  In  the  following  year,  during  the  pontificate  of 
Stephex  III.  (753-7.57)  Aistulf,  the  king  of  the  Lombards, 
invaded  the  duchy  of  Rome  with  the  avowed  purpose  of 
adding  the  capital  itself  to  his  dominions.  He  .seized 
Ravenna  and  the  exarchate  ;  and  Stephen,  finding  remon- 
strant 6  und  entreaty  alike  unavailing,  fled  for  protection  to 
the  Frankish  territory  and  was  received  by  King  Pepin 
with  every  mark  of  sympathy  and  profound  respect. 
Within  a  short  time  after,  Pepin  invaded  the  Lombard 
domain  and  «Tested  from  its  monarch  an  extensive  terri- 
tory embracing  Ravenna  and  the  Pentapolis;  and  at  a 
council  held  at  Quiercy,  in  the  same  year  (754),  he  handed 
over  this  territory  to  Stephen,  "to  be  held  and  enjoyed  by 
the  pontiffs  of  the  apostolic  see  for  ever."  Such  appears 
to  be  the  real  origin  of  that  "donatio,"  or  gift  of  terri- 
tory (referred  back,  by  tlie  invention  of  after  times,  to  the 
age  of  Constantino  the  Great),  which  constituted  the  pope 
a  temporal  ruler  over  what  were  subsequently  known  as 
the  "States  of  the  Church."  The  munificence  of  Pepin 
was  rivalled  by  that  of  his  son.  In  the  year  774,  on  the 
occasion  of  the  visit  of  Charles  (known  as  the  Great)  to 
Rome,  the  donation  of  his  father  was  made  the  ground  for 
soliciting  and  obtaining  a  yet  larger  grant,  comprising 
much  of  the  territory  already  bestowed,  but  extending  to 
at  least  double  the  area  stipulated  for  in  the'  earlier 
donation. 
»  6f  It  will  thus  be  seen  that,  towards  the  close  of  the  8th 
pnpal  century,  the  germs  of  the  chief  papal  claims  were  already 
"' "'  in  existence,  and  only  needed  for  their  full  development 
[,  those  favouring  conditions  which,  with  the  lapse  of  time, 
were  certain  to  occur,  and  for  which,  from  its  peculiar 
ury.  character  as  an  institution,  the  popedom  itself  was  so  well 
able  to  watch  and  wait.  Already  the  pontiff  claimed  the 
dispensing  power,  i.e.,  the  right  to  dispense  with  the 
observance  of  the  existing  canonical  law  under  conditions 
determinable  at  his  pleasure.  Already  ho  claimed  the 
right  to  confer  privileges — a  power  sub-sequently  wielded 
with  enormous  effect  in  enabling  monastic  and  episcopal 
foundations  to  urge  their  encroachments  on  the  rights  and 
jurisdiction  of  the  secular  power.  He  assumed  again,  in 
Western  Christendom  at  least,  the  rights  of  an  universal 
metropolitan — demanding  that  in  all  elections  to  bishop- 
rics his  sanction  should  be  deemed  essential ;  and  the 
arrival  of  the  pallium  from  Rome  was  already  awaited 
with  anxiety  by  all  newly-elected  metropolitans.  By  the 
encouragement  which  was  systematically  given  to  appeal 
to  Rome,  what  had  before  been  the  exception  became  the 
practice,  and  that  "extraordinary"  authority,  as  it  was 
termed,  which  had  been  introduced,  in  the  first  instance, 
only  under  the  pretext  of  providing  a  fixed  court  of  appeal 
in  cases  of  dispute  which  threatened  otherwise  to  prove 
incapable  of  adjustment,  developed  into  an  immediate  and 
ordinary  jurisdiction — into  an  authority,  that  is  to  say, 
which  in  all  questions  of  graver  import  set  aside  that  of 
the  bishop,  and  even  that  of  the  metropolitan,  and  made 
reference  to  Rome  the  rule  rather  than  the  exception.  In 
theory,  although  the  claim  was  admitted  neither  by  tho 
rulers  of  Frankland  nor  by  those  of  England,  tho  Roman 
pontiff  already  claimed  also  to  present  to  all  benefices. 
Although  he  had  not,  as  yet,  a.isumcd  tho  distinctive 
insigiia  of  his  office — tho  triple  crown  and  tho  upright 
pastoral  staff  surmounted  by  tho  cross — he  more  and  more 
discouraged  the  application  of  the  name  of  "papa"  (pope) 
to  any  but  himself  Tho  title  of  "universal  bishop," 
which  both  Pelagiua  II.  and  Gregory  the  Groat  hod  dis- 
claimed, seemed  his  by  nght  after  tho  decree  of  Phccas, 
and  with  the  lapse  of  two  ccnturieB  from  that  timu  was 
assumed  by  no  other  rival.     The  titles  of  "ajiostolicua," 


"cl.iviger"  (tho  bearer  of  the  keys),  and  "servus  ser- 
vorumDei"  were  claimed  in  like  manner  as  exclusively 
his.  One  temporal  potentate  had  already  received  his 
crown  as  a  grant  from  the  pontifical  chair ;  the  occupant 
of  that  chair  was  already  himself  a  temporal  sovereign. 

That  the  niedioeval  conception  of  the  papal  office  was 
one  of  gradual  and  slow  development  appears  accordingly 
to  be  beyond  all  reasonable  doubt,  and  this  feature  belong* 
in  common  to  the  whole  hierarchical  system.  We  find, 
for  example,  that  the  conception  of  the  episcopal  order 
and  its  functions  grew  with  the  increasing  power  and 
wealth  of  the  church.  In  like  manner  if  we  compare 
tho  theory  of  the  equality  of  bishops  one  with  another, 
enunciated  by  Cyprian,  with  the  prerogatives  of  a  metro- 
politan, as  laid  down  at  the  council  of  Antioch  (341),  and 
subsequently  further  magnified,  we  are  conscious  of  the 
introduction  of  what  is  tantamount  to  a  new  theory. 
And,  finall3',  we  become  aware  of  yet  another  hierarchical 
order,  as  we  see  rising  up  the  patriarchates  of  Rome, 
Alexartdria,  Antioch,  Jeru.salem,  and  Constantinople,  each 
invested  by  the  church  with  an  assigned  order  of  preced- 
ence. Something,  however,  was  yet  wanting  which  should 
crown  the  gradations  thus  successively  created,  and  com- 
plete the  analogy  to  tho  Roman  political  organizations 
— the  institution  of  the  monarchical  dignity.  It  was  for 
this  supreme  honour  that  Rome  and  Constantinople  con- 
tended, at  a  time  when,  from  various  causes  and  circum- 
stances, the  other  patriarchates  had  sunk  into  an  inferiority 
too  marked  to  admit  of  rivalry.  In  this  contest  the 
patriarch  of  Constantinople  rested  his  claim  on  what  may 
be  termed  the  traditional  political  foundation — the  honour 
due  to  the  patriarch  of  the  chief  seat  of  empire ;  this  plea, 
although  already  sanctioned  by  the  church,  was  met  oQ 
the  part  of  Rome  by  a  counter  appeal  to  the  supreme 
reverence  due  to  what  was  not  merely  an  "apostolica 
sedes,"  but  a  see  founded  by  two  apostles,  of  whom  one 
was  the  chief  of  the  apostolic  order.  In  this  remarkable 
abandonment  of  the  ancient  plea  for  pre-eminence  and  the 
limitation  of  the  argument  to  that  derivable  from  the 
claim  to  be  an  apostolic  see,  much  of  the  difliculty  and 
obscurity  that  belong  to  the  earlier  history  of  the  papacy 
had  probably  its  origin.  And  it  seems  but  too  probabU 
that  the  endeavour  to  disguise  this  change,  and  to  repre- 
sent the  claims  advanced  by  Innocent  I.,  by  Loo  I.,  by 
Gregory  the  Great,  and  by  Hadrian  II.,  as  already  virtu- 
ally asserted  and  admitted  in  the  itk  century  and  in  yet 
earlier  times,  has  given  rise  to  endless  wrestings  of  isolated 
passages  in  writers  of  good  authority,  to  deliberate  falsi) 
fication  of  genuine  documents,  and  to  what  are  allowed  oq 
all  hands  to  be  direct  and  palpable  forgeries.  Anothei 
feature,  which  has  been  made  subservient  to  no  small 
amount  of  misrepresentation,  must  not  bo  overlooked. 
From  their  earliest  appearance,  tho  distinctive  claims 
advanced  by  tho  Roman  seo  can  only  be  regarded  as  a 
series  of  encroachments  on  that  original  conception  of  the 
episcopal  office  maintained  by  Cyprian.  And  so  long 
as  the  other  patriarchates — Alexandria,  Antioch,  and 
Jerusalem — maintained  their  ground,  these  encroachments 
wore  a  comparatively  inolTcnsivo  guise,  being  little  more 
than  the  assertion  of  the  rights  of  a  patriarch  or  supreme 
metropolitan  within  the  Roman  dioce-so.  But,  in  addition 
to  and  distinct  from  tho  patriarchal  supremacy,  there 
was  tho  theory  of  tho  primacy  of  tho  bishop  of  Rome 
over  all  tho  bi.shops,  patriarchs,  and  metropolitans — at 
first  little  more  than  an  honorary  distinction  and  carrying 
with  it  no  definite  authority  or  jurisdiction.  When  the 
patriarchates  of  Alexandria,  Antioch,  and  Jerusalem  could 
no  longer  appear  as  rivals  and  Rome  was  confronted  by 
Constantinojilo  alone,  this  theory  was  brought  much  more 
prominently  forward;  while  ut  tho   same  time,  in  order 


496 


POPEDOM 


tho  better  to  enforce  the  papal  claims,  a  confusion  was 
designedly  and  skilfully  introduced  of  the  honorary 
primacy  derived  from  St  Peter  with  the  actual  rights  of 
the  head  of  the  Roman  diocese.  The  precedents  afforded 
by  the  former  were  adduced  in  support  of  the  universal 
jurisdiction  claimed  by  the  latter,  and  in  an  ignorant  and 
uncritical  age  were  with  little  difficulty  represented  as 
affording  sufficient  warrant  for  a  large  proportion  of  the 
claims  asserted .  in  the  9th  century.  It  is  by  the  light 
A'hich  we  derive  from  these  considerations  that  we  are 
enabled  to  discern  what  appears  to  be  the  only  theory 
which  offers  a  solution  of  the  tradition  respecting  St  Peter 
and  his  successors  that  is  in  harmony  with  the  historical 
ividence.  When  we  consider  that  in  the  course  of  the  5th 
century  papal  Rome,  partly  from  the  ambition  of  her 
pontiffs,  partly  from  the  concurring  influence  of  external 
nrcumstances,  had  acquired  a  position  of  authority  in 
relation  to  Christendom  at  large  which  afforded  the  pro- 
spect of  yet  more  complete  and  general  pre-eminence,  and 
that  towards  the  assertion  of  such  pre-eniinence  her  claim 
to  rank  as  the  greatest  and  most  honoured  of  the 
"apostolicse  sedes"  seemed  to  offer  effective  aid,  the 
appearance  of  legends  and  spurious  documents  tending  to 
support  such  a  claim  can  excite  no  surprise  in  the  minds 
of  those  familiar  with  the  literature  of  the  period.  As  in 
the  2d  century  the  attempt  to  reconcile  two  earlier  and 
corrupt  traditions  respecting  St  Peter's  presence  and  work 
in  Rome  gave  rise  to  the  tradition  of  his  fiye-and-twenty 
years'  episcopate,  so,  we  can  understand,  it  was  probably 
sought  to  substitute  for  the  simple  tradition  preserved  in 
"  Hegesippus  "  and  Irenaeus,  with  respect  to  St  Peter's  suc- 
cessors, official  records  (purporting  to  supply  details  such 
as  no  other  church  had  preserved,  and  such  as  it  is  in  the 
highest  degree  improbable  that  the  church  at  Rome  should 
have  succeeded  in  preserving)  of  an  early  episcopal  succes- 
sion ;  while  the  discrepancies  of  the  different  lists  that 
profess  to  record  this  succession  admit,  again,  of  an 
adequate  if  not  a  satisfactory  explanation,  if  we  regard 
them  as,  for  the  most  part,  independent  and  purely  con- 
jectural efforts  to  invest  the  earlier  episcopal  office  with  an 
historical  importance  to  which  in  the  first  two  centuries  it 
certainly  had  not  attained. 

While  the  Western  primate  was  thus  growing  in  dignity, 
•wealth,  and  influence,  those  ecclesiastical  potentates  who 
had  once  claimed  an  equal  or  coordinate  rank,  with  the 
sole  exception  of  the  patriarch  of  Constantinople,  alto- 
gether ceased  to  exist.  The  Saracen  conquests  in  Syria 
and  Egypt  had  involved  the  loss  of  Jerusalem  to  Christen- 
dom (637),  and  this  had  been  speedily  followed  by  the 
extinction  of  the  churches  of  Antioch  and  Jerusalem.  The 
patriarch  of  Constantinople  represented,  accordingly,  the 
only  spiritual  power  which  could  compare  with  that  of 
Rome;  but,  while  he  continued  to  be  the  submissive 
vassal  of  the  Byzantine  court,  that  court  was  compelled  to 
see  the  once  no  less  submissive  pontiff  of  Rome  changed 
into  a  successful  invader  of  its  Italian  possessions  and  into 
a  determined  repudiator  of  its  articles  of  faith.  In  the 
year  800  Charles  the  Great  received  at  the  hands  of  Leo 
III.,  in  Rome,  the  imperial  crown,  and  the  titles  of 
"emperor"  and  "Augustus."  The  authority  by  virtue  of 
which  Leo  assumed  the  right  to  confer  such  dignities  was 
probably  by  no  means  quite  clear  even  to  those  who  were 
witnesses  of  the  imposing  ceremony.  It  may  perhaps  be 
best  described  as  derived  partly  from  his  sacerdotal  func- 
tion, as  displayed  in  the  consecrating  rites,  and  partly 
from  the  fact  that  he  also  acted  as  the  representative  of 
the  people  in  their  capacity  of  electors.  To  the  Byzantine 
emperor,  the  whole  ceremony  and  the  titles  conferred 
seemed  a  direct  menace  to  his  own  prerogative^  and  com 
pleted  the  estrangement  between    th&  West  and  the    East. 


From  that  time  down  to  the  IStE"  century  Greek  instiCQ 
tions  and  Greek  culture  were  the  special  objects  of  dis- 
like and  distrust  to  the  papacy.  The  use  of  the  Creak 
language  had  already  been  discontinued  in  the  records  of 
the  Roman  Church ;  and  the  study  of  its  literature  waa 
now  systematically  discouraged.  The  assumption  by 
Charles  of  the  imperial  dignity  and  the  consequent  rise  o£ 
the  "  Holy  Roman  Empire  "  were  events  on  the  importance 
of  which  it  is  unnecessary  here  to  dwell.  By  the  theory 
thus  established,  a  temporal  supremacy  or  "condominiuiA" 
was  created  corresponding  to  the  spiritual  supremacy  of 
the  popedom,  and  the  Roman  emperor  claimed  from  all 
other  rulers  in  Christendom  an  allegiance  corresponding  to 
that  which  the  Roman  pontiff  claimed  from  all  other 
ecclesiastical  potentates.  The'  imperial  authority  and 
papal  authority  were  thug  complementary  the  one  to  the 
other.  The  emperor  claimed  to  confirm  the  papal  elec- 
tions ;  the  pope  claimed  to  confer  the  imperial  crown  upon 
the  emperor.  But  the  precise  adjustment  of  these  respec- 
tive claims,  and  the  further  assumptions  which  they  sug- 
gested or  favoured,  according  as  the  empire  or  the  papacy 
proved  for  the  time  the  stronger,  gave  rise  to  a  series  of 
memorable  struggles  which  soihetimes  assume  proportions 
that  constitute  them  the  pivot  .on  which  contemporary 
history  throughout  Europe  may  be  said  to  revolve.  The 
compact  originally  made  between  the  empire  and  the  pope- 
dom, however  plausible  in  theory,  was  indeed  attended 
with  no  little  danger  to  both.  At  one  time  it  appeared 
probable  that  the  state  would  overwhelm  the  ecclesiastical 
organization  and  convert  'it  into  a  machine  for  political 
purposes ;  at  another  time  it  seemed  no  less  likely  that 
the  latter  would  subjugate  the  former"  and  reduce  all 
Western  Christendom  to  a  vast  spiritual  tyranny.  During 
the  three  centuries  that  followed  upon  the  creation  of  the 
Holy  Roman  Empire — from  the  year  800,  that  is  to  say, 
down  to  the  Concordat  of  Worms  (1122) — it  was  chiefly 
the  former  contingency  that  seemed  the  more  probable. 
During  the  pontificate  of  Nicholas  I.  (858-867),  how- 
ever, the  papacy  again  made  a  perceptible  advance. 
Nicholas  intervened  with  signal  effect  in  the  disputed 
succession  to  the  Eastern  patriarchate,  and  asserted  more 
distinctly  than  it  had  ever  been  asserted  before  the  theory 
of  the  Roman  supremacy.  He  dared,  also,  to  forbid  tho 
divorce  of  Lothair  (the  powerful  monarch  of  the  vast  terri- 
tory which  stretched  from  the  German  Ocean  to  the 
Mediterranean)  from  his  vrife  Theutberga,  thereby  estab- 
lishing an  important  precedent  for  papal  interference  in 
questions  of  private  morality.  And,  finally,  in  his  arduous 
struggle  with  Hincmar,  metropolitan  of  Rheims,  he  gained 
an  important,  victory  over  the  powerful  prelates  on  the 
Rhine  in  the  question  of  appeal  It  must,  however,  be 
admitted  that  this  last  advantage  was  gained  only  by  tho 
use  of  forged  documents — the  pseudo-Isidorian  decretals, 
which  seem  to  have  first  seen  the  light  about  the  year 
850;  it  was  pretended  that  they  had  been  compiled  by 
Isidore  of  Seville,  an  eminent  writer  and  ecclesiastic  of 
the  7th  century,  and  had  been  brought  from  Spain  to 
Mainz  by  Rieulfus,  the  archbishop'of  that  city.  This  col- 
lection embodied  a  complete  series  of  letters  purporting 
to  have  been  written  by  the  popes  of  Rome  from  the  time 
of  Clemens  Romanus  down  to  that  with  which  the  collec- 
tion by  Dionysius  Exiguus  commences,  thus  filling  up  the 
entire  blank,  and  affording  among  other  data  ample  prece- 
dent for  appeals  to  Rome  of  the  kind  against  which 
Hincmar  had  protested.  When  some  doubt  was  raised  as 
to  the  genuineness  of  the  collection,  Nicholas  did  not 
scruple  to  assure  Hincmar  that  the  originals  had  been 
lying  from  time  immemorial  in  the  Roman  archives. 
Among  many  other  fundamental  positions  laid  down  in 
these  decretals  was  one  to  the  effect  tbat  no  conrjcil  of  the 


The  en 
pire  an 
the  po] 
dom. 


Nichcli 
I. 


P  O  P  E  D  O  M 


4{)7 


church  had  canonical  validity  unless  it  had  been  summoned 
with  the  sanction  of  the  holy  see.  The  assertion  of  this 
theory  rendered  it  necessary  considerably  to  extend  the 
practice  of  apiiointing  papal  legates  (h'jnii  a  latere),  who 
now  became  the  ordinary  channels^  of  communication 
between  Rome  and  the  Western  churches,  and  through 
whom  all  affairs  of  imiiortance  were  transacted.  The 
legate  convened  the  provincial  councils  and  presided  over 
them,  taking  precedence  even  of  the  metropolitan.  Such 
encroachments  enable  us  at  once  to  understand  how  it  was 
that  Henry  I.  of  England  deemed  it  necessary  to  demand 
from  Paschal  II.  a  promise  that  no  legate  should  be  sent 
into  the  kingdom  until  the  royal  assent  had  been  previously 
obtained.  From  the  pontificate  of  Nicholas  we  date  a 
notable  diminution  in  the  power  of  the  metropolitans. 

The  false  decretals  have  been  described  as  the  source  to 
which  we  may  trace  that  great  revolution  in  the  relations 
of  church  and  state  which  now  gradually  supervened.  The 
pontificate  of  Hadriax  II.  (8C7-872)  is  especially  notable 
for  the  application  which  he  sought  to  make  of  some  of 
the  principles  which  they  laid  down.  When  Lothair,  king 
of  Lotharingia,  died  without  heirs,  Hadrian  claimed  the 
right  to  bestow  the  crown  on  the  emperor  Lonis.  Christian 
Europe,  however,  was  not  as  yet  prepared  to  accept  this 
bold  extension  of  the  papal  prerogatives.  The  kingdom 
was  seized  by  Charles  the  Bald,  and  Hadrian  was  reminded 
in  a  manifesto  drawn  up  by  the  bishops  of  Germany  that 
lie  could  not  at  once  be  "  universal  pope  and  universal 
king."  But  the  weakness  of  Charles's  claim  was  unde- 
niable, and  wc  accordingly  find  him,  five  years  later,  con- 
senting to  receive  the  imperial  crown  at  the  hands  of  John 
VIII.  (872-882),  not  as  his  heritage  but  as  a  gift  from  the 
pope.  During  the  dark  and  stormy  period  that  intervened 
between  the  death  of  Charles  the  Bald  and  the  coronation 
of  Otto  the  Great  at  Rome  (9G2),  the  Carlovingian  empire 
broke  up,  and  the  results  that  followed  were  disastrous 
both  for  the  popedom  and  the  empire.  The  Saracens  occu- 
pied southern  Italy,  and  menaced  on  more  than  one  occasion 
the  capital  itself ;  the  Normans  poured  in  successive  waves 
over  Frankland ;  the  ravages  of  the  Magyars  were  yet 
wider  spread  and  not  less  terrible.  Alike  in  the  civil  and 
the  ecclesiastical  world  the  elements  of  strife  and  insub- 
ordination were  let  loo.se ;  and,  while  the  feudal  lords 
defied  the  authority  of  their  king,  and  the  power  of  the 
French  monarch  sank  to  the  lowest  ebb,  the  bishops  in 
like  manner  forsook  their  allegiance  to  the  Roman  pontiff. 
The  archbisho[)3  of  Ravenna  and  Milan  appeared  indeed 
as  his  rivals,  and  the  political  influence  which  they  com- 
manded more  than  equalled  his :  the  10th  century  has 
been  designated  "  the  noon-day  of  episcopal  independence." 
The  history  of  the  curia  at  this  period  is  marked  by  the 
deepest  moral  degradation  and  the  most  revolting  scenes. 
The  papal  jurisdiction  was  limited  almost  entirely  to  the 
capital  itself,  and  even  the  succession  of  the  pontiffs  them- 
selves is  with  difficulty  to  be  traced.  The  office,  indeed,  was 
sometimes  disposed  of  by  the  influence  of  immoral  women. 
The  pontificate  of  Stki'iikn  VI.  (or  VII.,  89G-897)  is 
remembered  only  for  the  inhuman  manner  in  which  ho 
treated  the  lifeless  corpse  of  his  predeces.sor  Formosus-; 
that  of  Seroius  III.  (901-911)  for  the  virtual  reign  pi 
"Theodora  and  her  daughter,  the  two  most  notorious  courte- 
zans of  the  age  ;  Stephen  IX.  (939-942)  was  disfigured 
for  life  by  the  brutal  treatment  which  ho  received  at  tho 
hand.s  of  tho  Roman  mob. 

In  tho  dismembered  empire,  the  kingdom  of  Germany 
first  exhibited  signs  of  returning  order  and  cohesion  ;  and 
at  the  solicitation  of  l'o[io  John  XII.  (9.05-90.'!)  King 
Otto  led  an  army  into  Italy,  rescued  tho  land  from  its 
cruel  oppressor,  Berengar,  the  feudal  lord  of  tho  realm, 
and  was  anointed  emperor  at  Rome.     John,  however,  who 

19 -l<) 


was  one  of  tho  worst  of  the  pontiffs,  ill  repaid  the  service 
rendered  to  tho  see ;  and,  foreseeing  that  the  restoration  of 
justice  and  law  was  likely  to  prove  fatal  to  his  own 
misrule,  ho  proceeded  to  plot  the  emperor's  overthrow. 
He  was  summoned  to  appear  before  a  council  presided 
over  by  the  latter,  to  meet  the  accusations  brought  against 
him,  and,  having  failed  to  appear,  was  formally  deposed. 
On  the  same  occasion  tho  imperial  right  to  confirm  the 
election  to  the  papal  office  (which  had  been  for  .<iome  time 
in  abeyance)  was  formally  restored.  Of  the  pontiffs  whose 
names  stand  in  the  subsequent  succession  two  were  anti- 
popes,  Benedict  V.  (964)  and  Boniface  VII.  (984-985), 
set  up  by  the  party  in  rebellion  against  the  imperial  power. 

With  tho  restoration  of  law  and  order  the  ancient  re- 
gard for  the  popedom  regained  its  hold  on  the  minds  of 
men.  Under  the  guidance  of  the  celebrated  Gerbert,  the 
youthful  enthusiasm  of  Otto  III.  aimed  at  making  Rome 
once  more  the  centre  of  political  dominion  and  the  seat  of 
the  imperial  power.  Hugh  Capet,  too,  professed  himself' 
the  "  defender  of  the  church."  A  strong  sense  began  also 
to  find  expression  of  the  infamy  attaching  to  the  associa 
tions  of  the  curia.  At  the  first  of  the  two  councils  convened 
at  Rheims  in  991  it  was  formally  demanded,  by  what 
decree  it  was  that  "numberless  priests  of  God,  famed  alike 
for  learning  and  virtue,  were  subjected  to  the  rule  of 
monsters  of  iniquity  wanting  in  all  culture,  whether  sacred 
or  profane."  The  French  monarchs  were  glad,  however,  to 
purchase  the  support  of  the  papacy  to  aid  them  in  their 
struggle  with  the  rebellious  chieftains  by  whom  the  very 
existence  of  their  authority  was  menaced,  and,  until  the 
action  of  the  papal  legates  again  roused  the  spirit  of 
national  resistance,  the  Capetian  dynasty  was  loyal  to  the 
Roman  see.  That  it  was  so  was  in  no  small  measure  due 
to  the  virtues  and  abilities  of  Gregory  V.  (996-999),  the 
kinsman  of  Otto  III.,  a  young  man  of  considerable  attain- 
ments, austere  morality,  and  great  energy  of  purpose,  who 
succeeded  to  the  papal  chair  at  the  age  of  twenty-four.  He 
was  silcceeded  by  Gerbert,  Pope  Silvester  II.  (999-1003), 
from  whom  Otto  III.  derived,  as  already  stated,  his  ideas 
of  Italian  and  papal  regeneration.  But  in  Germany  neither 
the  nobility  nor  the  episcopal  order  could  contemplate  with 
equanimity  the  projects  of  either  pontiff  or  emperor,  and 
Otto's  schemes  were  met  with  a  stubborn  and  paralysing 
resistance.  Then  the  feudal  princes  of  the  Roman  states 
rose  in  insurrection ;  and  the  ardent  young  reformer  was 
taken  off — it  was  believed,  by  poison — at  the  oge  of  two 
and  twenty,  to  be  follbwed  in  the  next  year  by  his  faithful 
preceptor  on  the  pontifical  throne. 

With  the  disappearance  of  these  two  eminent  men  the 
popedom  relapsed  into  its  former  degradation.  The  feudal 
nobility — that  very  "  refuse  "  which,  to  use  the  expression 
of  a  contemporary  writer,  it  had  been  Otto's  mission  "to 
sweep  from  the  capital " — regained  their  ascendency,  and 
the  popes  became  as  completely  the  instruments  of  their 
will  as  they  had  once  been  of  that  of  the  Eastern  emperor. 
A  leading  faction  among  this  nobility  was  that  of  the 
counts  of  Tusculum,  and  for  nearly  half  a  century  the 
popedom  was  a  mere  apanage  in  their  family.  As  if  to 
mark  their  contempt  for  tho  office,  they  carried  tho  election 
of  Theophylact,  tho  son  of  Count  Alberic,  a  lad  scarcely 
twelve  years  of  ago,  to  the  office.  Benedict  IX.  (1033- 
1045),  such  was  tho  title  given  him,  soon  threw  off  even 
the  external  decencies  of  his  oflico,  and  his  pontificate  was 
disgraced  by  every  conceivable  excess.  As  ho  grew  to 
manhood  his  rule,  in  conjunction  with  that  of  his  brother, 
who  was  appointed  tho  patrician  or  prefect  of  tho  city, 
resembled  that  of  two  captains  of  banditti.  The  scandal 
attaching  to  his  administration  culminated  when  it  was 
known  that,  in  order  to  win  tho  hand  of  a  lady  for  whom 
he  had  conceived  a  ])as3ion,  ho  had  sold  the  pontifical  olEc« 


498 


F  D  F,  -E  B  O  M 


itself  to  auother  member  of  the  Tusculan  house,  John,  the 
arch-presbyter,  who  took  the  name  of  Gbegoey  VI.  (10'45- 
46).  His  brief  pontificate  was  chiefly  occupied  with  endea- 
vours to  protect  the  pilgrims  to  Rome  oa  their  way  to  the 
capital  from  the  lawless  freebooters  (who  plundered  them 
of  their  costly  votive  offerings  as  well  as  of  their  personal 
property),  and  with  attempts  to  recover  by  main  force  the 
alienated  possessions  of  the  Roman  Church.  Prior,  how- 
ever, to  his  purchase  of  the  pontifical  office,  the  citizens  of 
Rome,  weary  of  the  tyranny  and  extortions  of  Benedict, 
had  assembled  of  their  own  accord  and  elected  another  pope, 
John,  bishop  of  Sabina,  who  took  the.  name  of  Silvester 
iH.  (rival  pope,  1044-46).  In  the  meantime  Benedict  had 
been  brought  back  to  Rome  by  his  powerful  kinsmen,  and 
now  reclaimed  the  sacred  office.  For  a  brief  period,  there- 
fore, there  were  to  be  seen  three  rival  popes,  each  denounc- 
ing the  others'  pretensions  and  combating  them  by  armed 
force.  But  even  in  Rome  the  sense  of  decency  and  shame 
had  not  become  altogether  extinguished  ;  and  at  length  a 
party  in  the  Roman  Church  deputed  Peter,  their  arch- 
deacon, to  carry  a  petition  to  the  emperor,  Henry  IIL, 
soliciting  his  intervention.  The  emperor,  a  man  of  deep 
religious  feeling  and  lofty  character,  responded  to  the 
appeal.  He  had  long  noted,  in  common  with  other 
thoughtful  observers,  the  widespread  degeneracy  which, 
taking  example  by  the  curia,  was  spreading  throughout 
the  church  at  large,  and  especially  visible  in  concubinage 
and  simony, — alike  regarded  as  mortal  sins  in  the  clergy. 
He  forthwith'crossed  the  Alps  and  assembled  a  council  at 
Sutri.  The  claims  of  the  three  rival  popes  were  each  in 
turn  examined  and  pronounced  invalid,  and  a  German, 
Suidger  (or  Suger),  bishop  of  Bamberg,  was  elected  to  the 
ofSce  as  Cleuent  II.  (1046-47). 

The  degeneracy  of  the  church  at  this  period  would  seem 
to  have  been  in  some  degree  compensated  by  the  reform 
of  the  monasteries,  and  from  the  great  abbey  of  Cluny  in 
Burgundy  there  now  proceeded  a  line  of  German  popes, 
who  in  a  great  measure  restored  the.  dignity  and  repu- 
tation of  their  office.  But,  whether  from  the  climate, 
always  ill-adapted  to  the  German  constitution,  or  from 
poison,  as  the  contemporary  chronicles  not  unfrequently 
suggest,  it  is  certain  that  their  tenure  of  office  was  singu- 
larly brief.  Clement  II.  died  before  the  close  of  the  year 
of  his  election.  Damascs  IL,  his  successor,  held  the  office 
only  twenty- three  days.  Leo  IX.,  who  succeeded,  held  it 
for  the  exceptionally  lengthened  period  of  more  than  five 
years  (1049-54).  This  pontiff,  although  a  kinsman  and 
nominee  of  the  emperor,  refused  to  ascend  the  throne  until 
his  election  had  been  ratified  by  the  voice  of  the  clergy 
and  the  people,  and  his  administration  of  the  ofiica  pre- 
sented the  greatest  possible  contrast  to  that  of  a  Benedict 
IX.  or.  a  Sergius  III.  In  more  than  one  respect  it  con- 
stitutes a  crisis  in  the  history  of  the  popedom.  la  con- 
junction with  his  faithful  friend  and  adviser,  the  great 
Hildebrand,  he  projected  schemes  of  fundamental  church 
reform,  in  which  the  suppression  of  simony  and  of  married 
life  (or  concubinage,  as  it  was  styled  by  its  denouncers) 
on  the  part  of  the  clergy  formed  the  leading  features.  In 
the  year  1049,  at  three  great  synods  successively  convened 
at  Rome,  Rheims,  and  Mainz,  new  canons  condemnatory 
of  the  prevailing  abuses  were  enacted,  and  the  principles 
of  monasticism  more  distinctly  asserted  in  contravention 
of  those  traditional  among  the  secular  clergy.  Leo's 
pontificate  closed,  however,  ingloriously.  In  an  evil  hour 
he  ventured  to  oppose  the  occupation  by  the  Normans, 
whose  encroachments  on  Italy  were  just  commencing. 
W\f  ill-disciplined  forces  were  no  match  for  the  Norman 
bands,  composed  of  the  best  warriors  of  the  age.  He  was 
himself  made  prisoner,  detained  for  nearly  a  twelvemonth 
in  captivity,  oud  eveatually  released  only  to  die,  a  lew 


days  after,  of  grief  and  humiliation.  But,  although  his 
own  career  terminated  thus  ignominiously,  the  services 
rendered  by  Leo  to  the  cause  of  Roman  Catholicism  were 
great  aud  permanent ;  and  of  his  different  measures  none 
contributed  more  effectually  to  the  stability  of  his  see  than 
the  formation  of  the  College  of  Cardinals.  The  title  of 
"  cardinal "  was  not  originally  restricted  to  dignitaries  cou' 
nected  with  the  Church  of  Rome,  but  it  had  hitherto  been 
a  canonical  requirement  that  all  who  attained  to  this 
dignity  should  have  passed  through  the  successive  lower 
ecclesiastical  grades  in  connexion  with  one  and  the  same 
foundation  ;  the  cardinals  attached  to  the  Roman  Church 
had  consequently  been  all  Italians,  educated  for  the  most 
parf  in  the  capital,  having  but  little  experience  of  the 
world  beyond  its  walls,  and  incapable  of  estimating  church 
questions  in  the  light  of  the  necessities  and  feelings  of 
Christendom  at  large.  By  the  change  which  he  intro- 
duced Leo  summoned  the  leaders  of  the  party  of  reform 
within  the  newly-constituted  college  of  cardinals,  and  thus 
attached  to  his  office  a  body  of  able  advisers  with  wider 
views  and  less  narrow  sympathies.  By  their  aid  the 
administration  of  the  pontifical  duties  was  rendered  at 
once  more  easy  and  more  effective.  The  pontiff  himself 
was  liberated  from  his  bondage  to  the  capital,  and,  even 
when  driven  from  Rome,  could  still  watch  over  the  inter- 
ests of  both  his  see  and  the  entire  church  in  all  their 
extended  relations ;  and  the  popedom  must  now  be  looked 
upon  as  entering  upon  another  stage  in  its  history — that 
of  almost  uninterrupted  progress  to  the  pinnacle  of  power. 
According  to  Anselm  of  Lucca,  it  was  during  the.  pontifi- 
cate of  Leo,  at  the  synod  of  Rheims  above  referred  to, 
that  the  title  of  "apostolic  bishop"  {Apostolicus)  was  first 
declared  to  belong  to  the  pope  of  Rome  exclusively.  The 
short  pontificate  of  Nicholas  n.  (1059-61)  is  memorable 
chiefly  for  the  fundamental  change  then  introduced  in  the 
method  of  electing  to  the  papal  office.  By  a  decree  of  the 
second  Lateran  council  (1059),  the  nomination  to  the  office 
was  vested  solely  in  the  cardinal  bishops — the  lower  clergy, 
the  citizens,  and  the  emperor  retaining  simply  the  right  of 
intimating  or  withholding  their  assent.  It  was  likewise 
enacted  that  the  nominee  should  always  be  one  of  the 
Roman  clergy,  unless  indeed  no  eligible  person  could  be 
found  among  theii:  number.  At  the  same  time  the  direst 
anathemas  were  decreed  against  all  who  should  venture  to 
infringe  this  enactment  either  in  the  letter  or  the  ■  spirit. 
The  preponderance  thus  secured  to  the  ultramontane  party 
and  to  Italian  interests  must  be  regarded  as  materially 
affecting  the  whole  subsequent  history  of  the  popedom. 
The  manner  in  wnich  it  struck  at  the  imperial  influence  was 
soon  made  apparent  in  the  choice  of  Nicholas's  successor,  the 
line  of  German  popes  being  broken  through  by  the  election 
cf  Anselm,  bishop  of  Lucca  (the  uncli  of  the  historian),  who 
ascended  the  pontifical  throne  as  Alexa^tdee  II.  (1061- 
73)  without  having  received  the  sanction  of  the  emperor. 
His  election  was  forthwith  challenged  by  the  latter,  and 
for  the  space  of  two  years  the  Roman  state  was  distracted 
by  a  civil  war,  Honorius  IL  being  supported  as  a  rival 
candidate  by  the  imperial  arms,  while  Alexander  main- 
tained his  position  only  with  the  support  of  the  Norman 
levies.  The  respective  merits  of  their  claims  were  con- 
sidered at  a  council  convened  at  ilantua,  and  the  decision 
was  given  in  favour  of  Alexander.  Cadalous,  such  was 
the  name  of  his  rival,  did  not  acknowledge  the  justice 
of  the  sentence,  but  he  retired  into  obscurity ;  and  the 
remainder  of  Alexander's  pontificate,  though  troubled  by 
the  disputes  respecting  a  married  clergy,  was  free  from 
actual  warfare.  In  these  much  vexed  questions  of  church 
discipline  Alexander,  who  had  been  mainly  indebted  for 
his  election  to  Hildebrand,  the- archdeacon  of  the  Roman 
Church,    was  guided  entirely   by  that  able  churchman's 


i 


POPEDOM 


499 


advice,  and  in  1073  Hildebrand  himself  succeeded  to  the 
ofBce  as  Geegoey  VII.'  (1073-85).  From  the  memorable 
struggle  between  this  pontiff  and  the  emperor,  Henry  IV., 
we  date  tho  commencement  of  that  long  series  of  contests 
between  the  papal  and  the  imperial  power  which  distracted 
alike  the  holy  see  and  the  empire.  In  the  two  main  ob- 
jects to  which  his  policy  was  directed — the  enforcement  of 
a  celibate  life  among  the  clergy  and  the  prohibition  of 
investiture  (see  iNVESTiTtrRE)  by  the  laity — Gregory  had 
on  his  side  the  sympathy  of  the  best  and  most  discerning 
rainda  of  his  age.  Lay  investiture  was  little  more  than  a 
cloak  for  the  inveterate  and  growing  abuse  of  simony,  for 
which  the  distribution  of  church  patronage  by  secular 
potentates  afforded  special  facilities,  and  the  burden  of 
which  was  now  increased  by  those  other  forms  of  tribute, 
the  "regale,"  "jus  spolii,"  and  "servitiura,"  which  the 
growth  of  the  feudal  system  had  developed.  But  in  the 
hands  of  Gregory  this  scheme  of  ostensible  reforms  ex- 
panded first  of  all  into  independence  of  the  temporal  power 
and  finally  into  a  claim  to  dominate  over  it.  Other  schemes 
(not  destined  to  be  realized)  engaged  his  lofty  ambition — 
the  conquest  of  Constantinople,  the  union  of  the  Eastern 
and  Western  Churches,  and  the  expulsion  of  the  Saracens 
from  Christendom.  He  died  in  exile ;  but  the  theory  of 
his  office  and  its  prerogatives  which  he  asserted  was  brought 
by  his  successors  to  a  marvellous  realization. 

The  first  crusade,  which  may  bo  looked  upon  as  gene- 
rated by  Gregory's  example  and  a  reflex  of  the  policy  which 
led  him  to  sanction  the  expedition  of  William  of  Noianandy 
against  England,  materially  favoured  papal  pretensions. 
It  was  proclaimed  as  a  religious  war,  and  it  was  as  a  mode 
of  penance  that  the  Norman  and  Latin  warriors  were 
enjoined  to  gratify  their  ruling  passions  of  plunder  and 
adventure.  More  especially  it  brought  to  the  front  of  the 
drama  of  European  action  the  Latin  as  opposed  to  the 
Teutonic  elements, — the  part  taken  by  Germany  in  these 
gigantic  expeditions  in  no  way  corresponding  to  her 
position  among  European  powers.  It  was  impossible  that 
the  exeommunicatocl  emperor  Henry  IV.  should  place 
himself  at  the  head  of  such  an  enterprise,  and  it  was 
accordingly  by  Urban  II.  (1088-99)  that  the  direction 
was  assumed,  and  it  was  under  his  auspices  that  tho  first 
crusade  was  proclaimed  at  Clermont.  As  the  movement 
gathered  force,  the  prestige  of  the  popedom  was  still 
further  enhanced  by  the  fact  that  tho  warriors  who  had 
before  appeared  in  the  field  under  the  banners  of  the 
empire  now  did  so  as  loyal  sons  of  the  church.  The  new 
orders  of  chivalry, — the  Knights  of  St  John,  the  Templars, 
the  Teutonic  Order, — each  bound  by  religious  vows, 
received  their  commissions  from  the  pontiff,  were  invested 
by  him  with  the  sword  and  the  cross,  and  acknowledged 
no  allegiance  to  tho  emperor. 

But  of  all  the  schemes  which  Gregory's  genius  conceived 
and  promoted  none  was  more  important  in  its  after-effects 
than  the  expansion  given  to  the  pseudo-Isidorian  decretals 
— in  tho  first  instance  by  Anselm  of  Lucca,  again  by 
Cardinal  Deusdcdit,  and  finally  by  the  celebrated  Gratian, 
^  monk  of  Bologna,  who  lived  about  the  middle  of  the 
11th  century.  By  Gratian  these  accumulated  forgeries 
were  reduced  to  order  and  codified ;  and  his  Decretiini,  (la 
■t  was  termed,  stands  to  tho  canon'  law  (Canon  Law)  in 
much  the  same  relation  that  the  Pandects  of  Justinian 
stand  to  the  civil  law.  Further  additions  were  subse- 
quently made  by  Gregory  IX.,  Boniface  VIII.,  and  other 
(lontiffs,  and  in  this  manner  a  vast  code  was  gradually 
elaborated  which,  serving  as  the  framework  of  tlie  eccle- 
siastical jurisdiction   in   every  land,   was  associated  with 

'  In  »fa<iinin<;  lliis  iinine  Hildebrand  designed  to  imply  that  Gregory 
VI.,  whose  (Jitlo  lind  been  cancelled  by  Henry  III.  or  nccouiit  of 
«imonv.  wns  a  Irgitimatu  ponlilT. 


separate  courts  and  professed  by  a  distinct  body  of  jurists 
The  canonists  were  naturally  ardent  defenders  of  the  sys- 
tem from  whence  they  derived  their  professional  existence, 
and  everywhere  represented  the  faithful  adherents  of  Rome. 

Another  movement  at  this  period,  which  gave  eSective 
aid  in  the  diffusion  of  the  papal  influence  and  authority, 
was  the  rise  of  the  new  religious  orders, — the  Camaldulea 
(c  1012),  the  Cluniacs  (c.  1048),  the  Carthusians  (c.  1084), 
and  the  Cistercians  (1098).  Although  each  of  these  orders 
professed  a  distinct  rule,  and  a  sanctity  and  austerity  oj 
life  which  put  to  shame  the  degenerate  Benedictines,  theu 
presence  was  far  from  proving  an  unmixed  benefit  to  the 
districts  where  they  settled.  Thfey  rejected  the  episcopal 
jiu-isdiction,  end  purchased  their  local  independence  by  com- 
plete and  immediate  subjection  to  the  pope.  Wherever, 
accordingly,  their  houses  rose  there  was  gathered  a  band 
of  devoted  adherents  to  Rome,  ever  ready  to  assert  hei 
jurisdiction  in  opposition  to  the  ecclesiastical  jurisdictioi 
claimed  by  the  secular  clergy  or  the  civil  jurisdictuN) 
claimed  by  the  temporal  power. 

On  the  death  of  Urban,  Cardinal  Eainerins,  a  native 
of  Tuscany,  and  a  man  of  considerable  learning  and  capa- 
city, succeeded  as  Paschal  II.  (1099-1118).    During  the 
earlier  years  of   his  pontificate  he  is  unfavourably   dis- 
tinguished by  the  manner  in  which  he  sanctioned,  if  he 
did  not  instigate,  the  cruel  and  unnatural  revolt  of  the 
young  prince  Henry   (afterwards  the  emperor  Henry  V.) 
against  his  father.     The  later  years  of  Paschal's  rule  seem 
mainly  a  record  of  the  nemesis  "which  overtook  a  policy 
dictated    by   the   most  heartless  and    selfish    ambition 
"  Paschal,"  says  Milman,  "  is  almost  the  only  later  pope 
who  was  reduced  to  the  degrading  necessity  of  being  dis- 
claimed by  the  clergy,  of  being  forced  to  retract  his  own 
impeccable  decrees,  of  being  taunted  in  his  own  day  with 
heresy,  and  abandoned  as  a  feeble  traitor  to  the  rights  ol 
the  church  by  the  dexterous  and  unscrupulous  apologist* 
of  almost  every  act  of  the  papal  see."     One  of  the  mosi 
memorable  phases  of  this  long  process  of  humiliation  i* 
rnarked  by  the  treaty  of  Sutri  (Feb.  1111),  when  the  young 
emperor  compelled  Paschal  to  surrender  all  the  territoriaj 
possessions  and  royalties  which  the  church  had  received 
either  from  the  emperor  or  from  the  kings  of  Italy  since 
the  days  of  Charlemagne,  together  with  numerous  othei 
political  and  fiscal  privileges,  while  he  himself  renounced 
the  right  of  investiture.     The  indignation  of  the  ecclesi- 
astical world  compelled  Paschal  to  retire  from  this  treaty, 
and  ultimately,  after  long  evasions,  to  become  party  to  s 
second,  whereby  the  former  conditions  were   completelj 
reversed.     The  emperor  resumed  the  right  of  investiture, 
and  that  burning  question  again  lit  up  the  flames  of  war 
Paschal  being  too  far  pledged  by  his  own  solemn  oath,  b 
metropolitan   council   assembled   at   Vienne   assumed   U 
itself  the  authority  of  excommunicating  the  emperor,  de 
daring  that  the  assertion  of  tho  rights  of  lay  invcstiturt 
in   itself  constituted    a   heresy.     The   great  prelates  ol 
Germany  rose  in  insurrection   against  the  emperor.     He 
retaliated  by  seizing  on  tho  vast  possessions  (comprising 
nearly   a  quarter  of  Italy)  which   Jfatilda,   countess   ol 
Tuscany,  at  her  death  in   1115,  had  bequeathed  to  the 
Roman  see.     The  pope  and  the  cardinals  responded  by  re 
enacting  the  sentence  of  excommunirafion.     Henry  occu- 
pied Rome;  and  Pope  Paschal  died  in  the  Castle  of  St 
Angelo,  exhorting  the  cardinals  with  his  latest  breath  tc 
greater  firmness  than  he  him.scif  had  .shown  in  maintain- 
ing tho  rights  of  the  church.     Paschal  was  the  first  of  the 
pontiffs  to  discontinue  the  use  of  tlie  imperial  years  in 
dating  his  acts  and  encyclicals,  substituting  instead  the 
jTar  of  his  own  pontificate.     Tlie  short  rule  of  Calixti'r 
II.   (1119-24),  disgraced  although  it  .wm<  by  the  naTage 
revcni.'o  which  he  Derpntrated  -on  his  rival   the  antipo]>e 


500 


POPEDOM 


Gregory  'VIII.,  was  characterized  by  wise  and  resolute 
administration.  A  Frenchman  by  birth,  he  was  the  first 
to  establish  those  intimate  relations  with  France  which 
rendered  that  state  the  traditional  ally  of  the  Roman  see, 
and  culminated  in  the  secession  to  Avignon.  Germany,  on 
the  other  hand,  appears  from  this  time  as  generally  heading 
the  anti-papal  party,  espousing  the  cause  of  the  antipope, 
and  siding  with  Ghibelline  faction.  But  the  chief  event  in 
the  pontificate  of  Calixtus,'  and  one  which  may  be  looked 
upon  as  inaugurating  a  new  era  in  the  history  of  our  sub- 
ject, was  the  Concordat  of  Worms  of  the  year  1122. 

By  this  memorable  treaty,  which,  accepted  as  the  law  of 
Christendom,  seemed  to  promise  an  ultimate  conclusion  of 
the  long  struggle,  an  understanding  was  at  last  arrived  at. 
The  emperor  ceded  the  right  of  investiture  by  the  ring 
and  the  pastoral  staff, — thereby  renouncing  that  at  which 
the  church  most  demurred,  the  appearance  of  assuming  to 
be  in  any  way  the  transmitter  of  the  spiritual  succession, 
but  retaining  the  right  of  granting  church  benefices  or 
other  property  by  the  symbol  of  temporal  power,  the 
sceptre.  The  pope,  on  the  other  hand,  consented  that  the 
election  of  bighops  and  abbots  should  take  place,  according 
to  canonical  procedure  in  the  presence  of  the  emperor,  but 
that  neither  bribery  nor  compulsion  should  be  resorted  to, 
and  that,  in  the  case  of  disputed  elections,  there  should  be 
a  right  of  appeal  to  the  metropolitan  and  provincial  bishops. 
In  Germany  the  investiture  with  the  regalia  by  the  sceptre 
was  to  precede  the  consecration,  the  dependence  of  the 
higher  clergy  being  thus  secured  to  the  emperor ;  but  in 
other  countries  the  lay  investiture  was  to  take  place  within 
six  months  after  consecration.  In  an  appended  clause  a  re- 
servation was  made  which  afterwards  became  a  fruitful  germ 
of  controversy:  the  elected  dignitary  bound  himself  to  dis- 
charge his  feudal  obligations  to  the  emperor  arising  out  of 
his  investiture  with  the  temporalities,  "  except  in  all  things 
which  are  acknowledged  to  belong  to  the, Roman  Church."- 
During  the  pontificate  of  Innocent  II.  (1130-43)  the 
importance  of  the  new  relations  established  with  France 
are  to  be  seen  in  the  all-commanding  influence  of  Beenabd 
OF  Claievaux  (q.v.),  the  unswerving  supporter  of  the 
papal  claims,  round  whose  career  indeed  tlie  life  of  the 
VVestern  Church  for  half  a  century  may  be  said  mainly  to 
revolve.  In  the  struggle,  arising  out  of  his  disputed  elec- 
tion, with  the  antipope,  Anacletus  II.,  Innocent  succeeded 
in  gaining  the  support  of  Bernard,  and  through  Bernard 
that  of  the  emperor  Lothair ;  and  the  narrative  of  his 
restoration  to  his  see  by  the  imperial  forces,  after  an  exile 
of  four  years,  is  one  of  the  most  dramatic  episodes  in  papal 
history.  Technically,  at  least,  Anacletus  had  the  better 
claim  to  the  papacy,  having  been  elected  by  a  majority  of 
the  cardinals  ;  but  Innocent  secured  the  support  of  Lothair 
by  making  over  to  him  the  territory  bequeathed  by  the 
countess  Matilda.  In  return  for  this  concession,  Lothair 
accepted  the  imperial  crown  from  Innocent  in  the  church  of 
the  Lateran,  and  acknowledged  himself  the  pope's  vassal, 
— in  the  language  of  the  inscription  recording  the  event, 
"Post  homo  fit  Papoe,  sumit  quo  dante  coronam." 

The  change  in  the  imperial  dynasty,  involving  as  it  did 
the  setting  aside  of  Lothair's  son-in-law  as  emperor,  revived 
the  rivalry  between  the  empire  and  the  papacy ;  and  the 
Ghibellines,  or  adherents  of  the  Hohenstaufen  (or  Swabian) 
line,  now  represented  a  more  distinctly  defined  paity  in 
opposition  to  the  GueLfs,  who  sustained  the  traditional 
policy  of  the  Saxon  imperial  line,  and  sided  with  the  popes. 
Frederick  Barbarossa,  although  he  consented  to  receive  the 
imperial  crown  at  the  hands  of  Hadrian  TV.  (1154-59), 
required  that  pontiff  altogether  to  disavow  the  notion  of 
having  conferred  it  as  a  beneficium  upon  a  vassal,  main- 
taining that,  through  the  election  of  the  princes,  he  held 
his   crowns   (both    kingly  and    imperial)    of    God   alone. 


During  the  pontificate  of  Alexander  III.  (1159-81) 
Frederick  supported  the  cause  of  the  antipopos.  A  dis- 
puted election,  in  which  the  merits  of  the  candidates  are 
even  yet  more  difficult  to  determine  than  in  the  election  of 
Innocent  II.,  gave  rise  to  a  series  of  counter  claims,  and 
Alexander,  during  his  long  pontificate,  had  to  contend 
with  four  successive  antipopes  each  backed  by  the 
imperial  arms.  Only  the  election  of  the  first,  Victor  V. 
(antipope,  1159-64),  however,  had  real  canonical  validity, 
the  claims  of  the  others  having  always  been  regarded  by 
all  orthodox  Catholics  as  presumptuous.  It  was  during 
the.  latter  part  of  Alexander's  government  that  Rome 
achieved  a  great  moral  triumph  in  England  in  the  reaction 
which  followed  upon  the  murder  of  Thomas  Becket  and 
the  abrogation  of  the  Constitutions  of  Clarendon.  Eight 
years  later  the  attention  of  all  Christian  Europe  was  riveted 
by  the  memorable  occurrence  which  marked  the  consum- 
mation of  the  truce  of  Venice  (1178),  when  Frederick 
Barbarossa  prostrated  himself  before  the  aged  pontiff  and 
held  his  stirrup  as  he  mounted  his  palfrey. 

Passing  by  the  comparatively  unimportant  careers  of  the 
five  popes  whose  names  stand  between  those  of  Alexander 
and  Innocent  III.  (1198-1216),  we  find  ourselves  at  the 
stage  which  marks  the  culmination  of  the  papal  power. 
The  august  descent  of  this  pontiff ;  his  learning  as  a 
canonist  and  his  commanding  genius ;  the  interdicts  which 
he  could  venture  to  impose  on  great  realms,  whether  ruled 
by  the  astute  sagacity  of  a  Philip  Augustus  or  by  the 
reckless  folly  of  a  John ;  his  sentences  of  excommunica- 
tion, hurled  with  deadly  effect  at  emperor  and  at  kings ; 
the  vigour  with  which  he  wrested  whole  provinces  from 
the  imperial  domination — the  march  of  Ancona  and  the 
duchy  of  Spoleto — to  weld  together  into  one  compact 
whole  the  Patrimonium  and  the  Romagna ;  the  energy  with 
which  he  repressed  the  heresies  which  threatened  the  unity 
of  the  church ;  the  boldness  with  which  he  defined  the 
doctrine  of  transubstantiation  ;  his  patience  in  working  and 
waiting  for  opportunities,  and  the  promptitude  with  which 
he  seized  the  occasion  when  it  arrived, — such  are  the  features 
which  combine  to  render  the  eighteen  years'  pontificate  of 
Innocent  III.  a  period  of  unrivalled  lustre  and  importance 
in  the  history  of  the  popedom.  It  was  now  that  the  papal 
power  may  be  said  to  have  effectually  impressed  its  theory 
of  sacerdotal  government  upon  Europe;  that  the  canon 
law,  wherein  that  theory  was  elaborated,  began  to  be 
taught  in  the  universities  which  rose  throughout  Europe 
— Bologna,  Padua,  Paris,  Orleans,  Oxford,  and  Cambridge ; 
that  ecclesiastical  discipline  everywhere  modelled  itself 
on  the  practice  of  Rome ;  that  the  mendicant  orders, 
especially  those  of  St  Dominic  and  St  Francis  of  Assisi, 
with  their  irregular  enthusiasm,  skilfully  converted  by 
Innocent  into  a  widely-diffused,  imtiring,  and  devoted 
propaganda,  roused  a  new  spirit  alike  in  the  universities 
and  among  the  illiterate  laity,  and  became  a  powerful 
instrument  wherewith  to  coerce  to  obedience  the  episcopal 
Otder  and  the  whole  body  of  the  secular  clergy. 

The  chief  interest  attaching  to  the  pontificates  of 
HoNORins  III  (1216-27),  Gregory  IX.  (1227-41),  and 
Innocent  IV.  (1243-54)  arises  from  their  connexion  with 
the  policy  and  career  of  Frederick  II.  (emperor  1210-50). 
To  the  whole  traditions  of  the  popedom  Frederick  was 
especially  obnoxious,  menacing  on  the  one  hand  its  standard 
of  doctrine  by  his  reputed  scepticism,  and  its  newly 
acquired  possessions  on  the  other  by  his-  schemes  for  the 
revival  of  imperial  supremacy  in  Italy.  In  the  sequel  hie 
designs  were  baffled  by  the  ability  and  resolution  of 
Gregory  and  Innocent ;  and  at  the  general  council  of  Lyons 
(1245)  Frederick  was  opposed  both  from  his  imperial  and 
his  kingly  dignities,  and  his  subjects  declared  to  be  absolved 
from  their  fidelity.     In  this  manner  the  power  claimed  bj 


POPEDOM 


50J 


the  Roman  pontiff  of  deposing  even  kings  received  the  im- 
plicit sanction  of  a  general  council.  The  empire,  worsted 
in  Italy,  broke  down  in  Germany.  In  1268  Conradin, 
the  grandson  of  Frederick  and  the  last  representative  of 
the  Hohenstaufen  dynasty,  was*  cruelly  put  to  death  by 
Charles  of  Anjou,  and  the  long  contest  of  the  empire  with 
the  popedom  came  to  an  end. 

The  policy  of  Gregory  X.  (1271-76),  a  man  of  ability 
and  moderation,  deserves  the  praise  of  having  apparently 
aimed  at  the  general  good  of  Christendom,  so  far,  at  least, 
as  not  incompatible  with  the  verweening  pretensions 
which  he  continued  to  uphold.  Gregory  endeavoured  to 
compose  the  bitter  jealousies  and  long-continued  strife  of 
the  Italian  states  by  the  establishment  of  a  general  pro- 
tectorate under  Charles  of  Anjou,  king  of  Naples,  and  to 
reconcile  Guelf  and  Ghibelline  by  concessions  to  the  leaders 
of  the  latter  party.  He  effected  a  temporary  agreement 
with  the  Eastern  Church ;  and  he  sought  to  put  an  end 
to  the  abuses  and  rivalries  which  now  almost  invariably 
accompanied  each  election  to  the  pontificate  by  intro- 
ducing a  new  method  of  proceeding  on  such  occasions.  In 
the  meantime,  the  growing  spirit  of  nationality  had  already 
received  a  striking  exemplification  in  France  by  the  enact- 
ment of  the  Pragmatic  Sanction  (1268).  Of  this  measure, 
which  has  been  described  as  the  foundation  of  the  Gal- 
ilean liberties,  it  will  here  suflSce  to  say  that  it  consists  of 
a  series  of  enactments  expressly  directed  against  all  those 
encroachments  of  the  popedom  with  respect  to  collations 
to  benefices,  elections  to  bishoprics,  simoniacal  practices, 
ecclesiastical  promotions,  imposts,  and  other  forms  of 
exaction,  such  as  we  have  already  noted  in  their  gradual 
growth.  Shielded  from  criticism  by  the  fact  that  it  was 
sanctioned  by  the  pious  Louis  IX.,  the  loyal  son  of  the 
church,  the  Pragmatic  Sanction  passed  at  the  time  unchal- 
lenged even  by  the  papacy  itself.  Of  the  extent  to  which 
the  latter  was  becoming  more  and  more  a  political  institu- 
tion we  have  striking  evidence  in  the  brief  pontificate  of 
Celestine  V.  (1294).  A  hermit  of  the  Abruzzi,  of  austere 
and  holy  life,  he  had  been  elected  pope  in  the  hope  that  his 
reputation  for  virtue  might  in  some  measure  restore  the 
character  of  his  office.  Something  more,  however,  than 
mere  sanctity  and  blamelcssness  were  now  necessary  for.the 
discharge  of  the  duties  of  a  position  which  by  its  associa- 
tions demanded  the  exercise  of  statecraft,  political  intrigue, 
and  a  wide  knowledge  of  affairs.  In  less  than  six  months 
Celestine  resigned  an  office  for  which  by  lack  of  experience 
and  iibility  he  was  altogether  unfitted,  but  leaving  behind 
him  a  tradition  of  self-devoted  and  holy  life  which  found 
expression  in  the  institution  of  a  new  religious  order, 
that  of  the  Cclestinians,  afterwards  blended  with  the 
Fraticelli,  or  Spiritual  Franciscans.  Upon  BoNiFi\CE  VIII. 
(1294-1303)  the  signs  of  the  times  and  the  development 
of  a  spirit  and  of  institutions  incompatible  with  the  pre- 
tensions of  his  predecessors  were  altogether  lost.  A  man 
of  considerable  abilities,  indomitable  will,  and  imperious 
nature,  ho  enunciated  in  yet  more  uncompromising  terms 
the  theory  of  the  papal  supremacy.  In  the  riiemorable 
bull  Vnam  snnctam  Ecdesiam  (18th  Nov.  1302),  he  de- 
clared that  the  church  could  have  but  one  head — a  two- 
headed  church  would  be  a  monstrosity;  and  ho  explained 
away  the  traditional  interpretation  of  the  symbolic  mean- 
ing of  the  two  swords,  by  affirming  that  tho  temporal 
sword  wielded  by  tho  monarch  was  borne  only  at  tho  will 
and  by  the  permission  of  the  pontiff  {ad  nutum  et  patienliavi 
sac(rdotis).  Dazzled  by  the  apparent  success  which  at- 
tended his  first  measures,  he  was  only  confirmed  in  his 
policy  by  the  resistance  ho  encountered  in  France  and 
England.  In  Philip  tho  Fair,  however,  ho  was  matched 
with  an  antagonist  as  resolute  and  unscrupulous  as  him- 
self and  one  who  better  understood  the  tendencies  of  the 


age.  In  the  struggle  that  ensued  Philip  had  the  whole 
French  nation,  including  the  episcopal  order,  on  his  side  ; 
the  pontiff'  was  worsted,  and  his  humiliation  and  sense  of 
defeat  hastened  his  end. 

With  the  death  of  Boniface  fell  also  tho  papacy  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  both  in  theory  and  in  fact: — in  theory, 
through  the  ascendency  of  counter  views  such  as  those  put 
forth  in  the  De  Monarchia  of  Dante,  and  in  the  writings 
of  .(Egidius  Colonna  and  John  of  Paris,  which  enforced  the 
reasonableness  and  necessity  of  the  supremacy  of  the 
political  power ;  in  fact,  from  the  manner  in  which  the 
French  monarch  succeeded  not  only  in  repelling  the  papal 
pretensions  but  in  eventually  reducing  the  Koman  see 
itself  to  be  a  mere  instrument  of  his  will  and  a  submissive 
agent  in  the  furtherance  of  his  policy. 

The  origin,  the  growth,  the  characteristics,  the  assump- 
tions, and  the  downfall  of  the  mediajval  papacy  having 
now  been  traced  out,  it  remains  to  note,  as  concisely  as 
practicable,  the  chief  features  in  the  later  history  of  the 
institution.  In  the  year  1305  Clement  V.  (1305-14), 
an  Aquitanian  by  birth,  was  elected  after  long  contention 
to  the  pontificate.  He  was  invested  with  the  tiara  at 
Lyons,  and  subsequently  (1309)  transferred  his  court  from 
Rome  to  Avignon.  The  pressure  put  upon  him  by  King 
Philip  is  generally  assigned  as  the  cause  of  this  step,  but 
it  is  not  improbable  that  he  was  only  too  glad  to  escape 
from  the  strife  then  waging  between  the  two  great  fac- 
tions, the  Orsinis  and  the  Colonnas,  at  Home.  At  Avignon, 
for  a  period  of  nearly  seventy  years,  derisively  styled  the 
"Babylonian  captivity,"  pope  after  pope  held  his  court. 
Degraded  to  a  state  of  splendid  vassalage  to  France,  their 
luxury,  pride,  rapacity,  and  avarice  became  a  bye-word  in 
Europe,  while  their  complete  subservience  to  the  political 
aims  of  the  French  crown  effectually  alienated  from  them 
the  good  will  and  sympathy  of  England  and  Germany. 
When  John  XXII.  (1316-34)  sought  to  interfere  in  a 
double  election  to  the  empire,  the  diet  at  Frankfort  de- 
nounced his  whole  policy  in  terms  that  startled  Europe  by 
their  boldness;  and  the  electoral  union  at  Piense  in  1338 
passed  a  resolution  declaring  that  "  whoever  was  chosen  by 
the  electors  became  at  once  both  king  and  emperor,  and  did 
not  require  that  his  election  should  be  approved  and  sanc- 
tioned by  the  apostolic  see."  Other  causes  contributed 
effectually  to  lower  the  papacy  in  the  estimation  of  Europe 
Clement  V.  concurred  in  the  infamous  devices  by  which 
Philip  procured  the  suppression  of  the  Order  of  the 
Templars,  and  tho  barbarous  cruelties  inflicted  on  the 
noble  victims  produced  in  the  popular  mind  a  feeling  of 
deepest  ■  aversion  for  the  authors  of  those  proceedings. 
Tho  traffic  in  benefices  was  now  again  developing  into  a 
gigantic  scandal  and  abuse.  Annates  and  Peter's  jience 
wero  exacted  with  an  insatiable  rapacity.  Italy  itself,  in- 
deed, torn  between  contending  parties  and  impoverished 
by  tho  interruptions  to  commerce,  offered  but  a  barren 
field  for  plunder,  but  in  the  countries  north  the  Aljis  the 
pope's  emissaries  were  everywhere  to  bo  seen,  ever  intent 
on  their  errand  of  exaction.  Tho  wealth  thus  acquired 
was  partly  devoted  towards  extending  tho  territorial  pos- 
sessions of  tho  see  ;  and  Avignon  and  the  county  of  Vcnais- 
sin,  purchased  in  1348  from  tlio  crown  of  Provence, 
remained  pa|)al  until  the  French  Revolution.  It  is  not  a 
littlo  significant  that  this  increase  in  wealth  and  territory 
should  have  been  concomitant  with  tho  sinking  of  tho 
moral  influence  of  the  pajiacy  to  its  lowest  ebb.  In  Eng- 
land tho  civil  power  endeavoured  to  check  this  system 
of  extortion  by  re-enacting  the  Statutes  of  Pra-muniro 
and  Provisors.  In  Germany  the  deep  discontent  to 
which  it  gavo  rise  formed  an  important  contributing 
element  in  tho  causes  which  brought  about  the  Reforma- 
tion.    In  France  the  luxury  and  gross  immorality  of  the 


502 


POPEDOM 


court  at  Avignon,  described  in  grapliic  and  scathing 
language  by  Petrarcb,  are  assigned  by  other  contemporary 
writers  as  conducing  largely  to  the  corruption  of  morals 
throughout  the  realm.  Even  among  the  religious  orders 
themselves  there  began  to  be  signs  of  insubordination, 
and  the  Fraticelli,  or  Spiritual  Franciscans,  who  now  took 
their  rise,  openly  avowed  that  the  principles  which  they 
professed  were  designed  as  a  protest  against  the  appalling 
degeneracy  of  the  curia ;  while  great  scholars  in  the  uni- 
versities, like  WiUiam  of  Occam  and  Marsilio  of  Padua, 
brought  the  dialectics  and  new  philosophical  tenets  of  the 
schools  in  the  universities  to  bear  with  no  little  effect  on 
the  whole  system  of  the  popedom. 

The  outbreak  of  the  great  schism  struck  no  less  deeply 
at  those  sentiments  of  veneration  and  deference  which 
liad  been  wont  to  gather  round  the  pontiff's  chair.  The 
majority  in  the  college  of  cardinals  were  Frenchmen,  and, 
on  the  death  of  Gregory  XL  in  1378,  it  seemed  only  too 
probable  that  another  Frenchman  would  be  elected  his 
successor.  The  discontent  of  the  citizens  of  Kome  at  the 
withdrawal'  of  the  curia  from  the  capital'  had  now,  how- 
ever, reached  a  culminating  point.  This  feeling,  it  is  to 
be  noted,  was  by  no  means  one  of  mere  sentiment  and 
attachment  to  tradition,  for  the  diversion  of  appeals,  pil- 
grimages, deputations,  and  embassies,  with  their  attend- 
ant influx  of  travellers,  and  of  large  streams  of  wealth  and 
business  from  Rome  to  Avignon,  had  materially  affected 
the  prosperity  of  the  former  city.  On  the  occasion  of  the 
cew  election  the  prevailing  dissatisfaction  found  vent  in 
menacing  demonstrations  on-  the  part  of  the  population, 
and  even  in  scenes  of  actual  violence.  In  order  to  appease 
the  city  the  terrified  cardinals  determined  on  the  unani- 
mous election  of  an  Italian,  Prignani,  archbishop  of  Bari, 
tvho  assumed  the  title  of  Ueban  'VI.  The  election  was 
singularly  unfortunate.  The  new  pontiff,  intoxicated  by 
his  sudden  and  unexpected  fortune,  assumed  such  arrogance 
of  demeanour  and  showed  himself  so  altogether  wanting 
in  moderation  and  self-control  that  the  cardinals  put  forth 
the  plea  that  they  had  discharged  their  function  as  electors 
under  intimidation,  and  declared  the  election  invalid.  In 
proceeding  to  elect  another  ^(ontiff,  their  choice  fell  upon 
one  of  their  own  number,  Eobert  of  Geneva,  known  as 
Clement  VTI.  (1378-94).  For  a  period  of  thirty-eighJ 
years,  Christian  Europe  was  scandalized  by  the  conten- 
tions of  two  rival  popes,  the  one  holding  his  court  at 
Rome,  the  other  at  Geneva,  each  hurling  anathemas, 
excommunication,  and  the  foulest  accusations  at  the  other, 
and  compared  by  Wyclif  to  "  two  dogs  snarling  over  a 
bone  " — a  simile  which  in  itself  affords  significant  proof 
of  the  manner  in  which  the  popedom  had  fallen  in  the 
estimation  of  Christendom.  The  potentates  of  Europe, 
in  declaring  themselves  "in  the  obedience,"  as  it  was 
termed,  of  one  or  the  other  pontiff,  were  swayed  almost 
entirely  by  political  considerations,  in  which  jealousy  of 
France  was  the  predominant  sentiment.  Italy,  Germany, 
Bohemia,  England,  Flanders,  Hungary,  and  Poland,  all  de- 
clared themselves  in  the  obedience  of  the  pope  at  Rome  ; 
Scotland,  Savoy,  Lorraine,  declared  themselves,  'along 
with  France,  in  that  of  the  pope  at  Avignon.  The 
Spanish  kingdoms,  which  at  first  stood  aloof,  ultimately 
also  decided,  though  from  somewhat  different  motives,  in 
favour  of  the  latter  pontiff.  At  last,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  15th  century,  an  endeavour  was  made  to 
prevail  on  both  the  reigning  popes — Gregory  XII.  at 
Rome,  Benedict  XIII.  at  Avignon — to  renounce  their 
claims,'  with  a  view  to  the  restoration  of  church  union. 
The  proposal  was  met  by  both  popes  with  persistent  and 
unscrupulous  evasion.  France,  indignant  at  the  subter- 
fuges of  Benedict,  withdrew  her  support,  and  he  accordingly 
retired  to  Perpignan.     The  caj-dinals  attached  to  either 


I 


court  met  together  at  Leghorn,  and  agreed  to  summon  a 
general  council,  to  meet  at  Pisa  on  the  25th  March  1409. 
In  the  meantime  isolated  scholars  and  divines  throughout 
Europe,  among  the  regular  and  the  secular  clergy  alike, 
were  pondering  deeply  the  lesson  taught  by  the  papal 
history  of  the  last  six  centuries,  and  in  the  place  of  the 
traditional  theories  of  appeals  to  popes,  to  councils,  or  to 
emperors  there  was  growing  up  another  conception,  that 
of  the  essential  falsity  of  the  axioms  on  which  the  theory 
of  the  papal  supremacy  had  been  built  up,  and  of  Scrip- 
tural, authority  as  the  only  sure  and  final  source  of  guid 
ance  in  deciding  upon  questions  of  doctrine  and  morality. 
But  as  yet,  before  ideas  such  as  these  had  been  suffi 
ciently  developed  and  events  had  prepared  the  popula' 
mind  for  their  reception,  the  remedy  that  most  commendco  _ 
itself  to  the  leading  minds  of  Christendom  was  that  of  a  ■ 
true  general  council.  Such  was  the  idea  which  influential  ' 
churchmen  of  the  age — men  like  Peter  D'AiUy,  cardinal  of 
Cambrai,  and  John  Gerson,  chancellor  of  the  university  of 
Paris,  who,  while  they  deplored  the  discipline,  still  assented 
to  the  doctrines  of  the  church — believed  to  be  the  best 
solution  of  the  difficulties  in  which  that  church  had 
become  involved.  The  opinions  of  the  doctors  of  the 
canon  law  and  of  theology  at  the  universities  had  been 
taken,  and  at  Oxford  as  in  Paris  it  had  been  decided  that 
a  general  council  might  be  -summoned  even  against  the 
will  of  the  pope,  and  that,  when  thus  convened,  its 
authority  was  superior  to  his.  Such  were  the  circum- 
stances under  which  in  1409  the  council  of  Pisa  was 
summoned.  The  council  enunciated  the  dogma  of  its  own 
supremacy;  it  deposed  the  rival  popes;  it  constituted  the 
two  separate  bodies  of  cardinals  a  single  conclave,  and  by 
this  conclave  a  new  pope,  Alexander  'V.  (1409-10)  was 
elected.  Schemes  of  general  ecclesiastical  reform  were  dis- 
cussed;  and  then  after  a  four  months'  session  the  assembly 
adjourned,  to  resume,  at  an  interval  of  three  years,  its 
yet  more  memorable  deliberations  at  Constance.  In  the 
intervening  time,  Alexander  V.  died,  not  without  strong 
suspicion  of  his  having  ^been  removed  by  poison  through 
the  machinations  of  his  successor,  the  notorious  Balthasar 
Cossa,  who  assumed  the  title  of  John  XXIII.  (1410-15), 
and  took  up  his  residence  in  Rome.  It  is  with  this  pontiff 
that  the  gross  abuse  of  indulgences  is  said  to  have  first 
arisen.  In  the  year  1416  the  council  of  Cpnstance  met, 
amid  the  most  sanguine  expectations  on  the  part  of  re- 
ligious Europe,  but  it  achieved  practically  nothing  in  the 
direction  of  church  reform.  It  deposed  John  XXIII., 
but  MaetIn  "V.  (1417-31),  by  whom  he  was  succeeded, 
although  in  some  respects  an  estimable  pontiff,  skilfully 
availed  himself  of  the  disturbances  in  Bohemia  and  the 
hostile  inroads  of  the  Turks  to  postpone  all  questions  of 
reform  to  a  future  occasion.  On  the  other  hand,  the  actual 
results  of  its  deliberations  were  reactionary  in  their  tend- 
ency. The  council  burned  John  Huss,  one  of  the  first  to 
assert  the  rights  of  the  individual  conscience  in  opposition 
to  the  prevailing  hierarchical  system ;  it  crushed  the  party 
of  reform  in  the  university  of  Paris,  and  banished  their 
great  leader.  The  council  of  Basel  (1431-49),  although 
it  re-enunciated  the  principle  of  the  superiority  of  a 
general  council  over  the  pope,  found,  when  it  sought  to 
proceed  to  the  more  practical  reforms  involved  in  placing 
restrictions  on  the  abuses  practised  under  the  papal  sanc- 
tion, that  it  had  assumed  a  task  beyond  its  powers.  Under 
the  pretext  of  bringing  about  a  reconciliation  with  the 
Eastern  Church,  and  inviting  its  delegates  to  the  delibera- 
tions of  the  council,  Eugenius  IV.  (1431-47)  proposed  to 
transfer  the  place  of  meeting  from  Basel  to  some  Italian 
city.  The  council,  well  knowing  that  such  a  mesisure  would 
be  fatal  to  its  independence,  refused  its  assent ;  Eugenin.s 
retaliated    by   dissolving    the    council ;  the  council,   li/ 


POPEDOM 


503 


Buspeuding   the   pope.     Thereupon   Eugenius  summoned 
another  council  at  Ferrara,  which  was  afterwards  removed 
to  Florence.     The  council  of  Basel,  as   a  last  resource, 
arrogated  to  itself  the  papal  functions,  and  then  proceeded 
to  elect  Amadeus,  duke  of  Savoy,  pope,  with  the  title  of 
Felix   V.     In  this  extreme  measure  it  failed,  however, 
to  carry  with  it  the  more  influential  European  powers. 
Germany,  after  an  ineffectual  endeavour  to  mediate  be- 
tween the  rival  popes,  assumed,  in  the  first  instance,  an 
attitude    of  strict   neutrality,    but   was    ultimately   won 
over  by  the  crafty  jEneas  Sylvius  (afterwards  Pius'  II.) 
to  conclude  the  notable  Concordat  of  Vienna  (1448).     By 
this   mercenary  arrangement  the  newly-elected  emperor, 
Fred-'rick  III.,  altogether  renounced  whatever  advantages 
had,  down  to  that  time,  been  gained  by  the  labours  of 
thd  council  of  Basel,  receiving  in  return  from  Nicholas  V. 
certain  concessions  with  respect  to  ail  episcopal  elections 
in  his  own  hereditary  dominions,  together  with  a  hundred 
of  the  most  valuable  benefices,  the  visitatorial  rights  in 
relation  to  the  monasteries,  and  a  tenth  of  the  monastic 
revenues.     The  policy  adopted  by  France  was  of  an  alto- 
gether different  character.     She  preferred  to  adjust  her 
ecclesiastical  liberties  on  the  basis  defined  apd  sanctioned 
by  tho  royal  authority  at  the  congress  of  Bourges.     The 
Pragmatic  Sanction  there  enacted  was  registered  by  the 
parliament  of  Paris,  13th  July  1439, — thr.s  becoming  part 
of  the  statute  law  of  France.     In  this  celebrated  mani- 
festo the  spirit  of  Gerson  and  the  university  of  Paris  spoke 
again ;    but,  while  its   twenty-three  provisions   rendered 
it  peculiarly  obnoxioHs  to  the  Roman  see,  the  manner  in 
which  it  set  aside  all  roya!  nominations  made  it  no  less 
distasteful  to  the  monarchy.     Louis  XL,  feigning  to  yield 
to  the  pressure  put  upon  him  from  Rome,  abolished  it, 
but  it  was  re-enacted  by  Louis  XII.     Eventually,  in  the 
year  1516,  amid  the  full  flow  of  the  advantages  which 
he  had  gained  by  the  victory  of  Slarignano,  Francis  I. 
permitted  the  Pragmatic  Sanction  to  be  superseded  by 
the  Concordat  of  Bologna, — a  disastrous  compromise  of 
principles,  wherein,  while  some  important  concessions  were 
made  to  Leo  X.,  the  crown  interference  with  the  admin- 
istration of  the  church  was  more  effectually  established 
than  ever,  and  the  independence  of  the  Galilean  clergy 
reduced  to  a  shadow.     The  concordat  made  no  mention  of 
the  councils  of  Constance,  Basel,  and  Bourges,  or  of  their 
fundamental  conception  of  tho  superiority  of  a  general 
council  over  the  pope ;  and  it  left  the  opportunity  ojjen 
for  the  reintroduction  of  annates.     On  the  other  hand, 
the  monarchical  authority.achieved  a  signal  triumph ;  and, 
although  the  parliament  of  Paris  loudly  protested,  and  even 
ventured  to  set  aside  some  of  the  royal  nominations  sub- 
sequently made,  its  voice  was  silenced  by  a  peremptory 
decree  issued  in  the  year  1527. 

To  return  to  the  council  of  Basel.  Although  supported 
at  first  by  the  electors  of  Germany,  it  was,  in  the  sequel, 
completely  circumvented  by  tho  machinationa  of  the  able 
bat  unscrupulous  .JCneas  Sylvius ;  and  Pope  Eugenius,  at 
his  death,  seemed  almost  to  have  regained  the  allegiance 
of  Christendom.  Under  Nicuolas  V.  (1447-55),  the 
work  of  reunion  was  brought  to  a  completion.  The 
council  of  Basel  dissolved  itself;  and  Felix  V.,  laying 
aaide  his  empty  title  and  dignity,  retired  into  Savoy,  and 
was  shortly  after  promoted  to  the  rank  of  cardinal  by 
Nicholas  himself.  Tho  popedom  was  not  destined  ever 
again  to  witness  tho  phenomenon  of  a  rival  pontiff ;  and 
oo  council  since  tho  council  of  Basel  has  ever  ventured 
to  assert  its  authority  as  superior  to  that  of  the  Roman 
cbeir.  At  the  council  of  Florence  that  theory  had  been 
definitely  contravened  (1439)  by  tho  enunciation  of  the  fol- 
lowing canon,  in  which  tho  counter  theory  first  received  a 
complete  and  difitinet  e.xj.osition :— "  Wo  define  tho  hol^f 


apostolic  see  and  the  Roman  pontiff  to  have  primacy  over 
the  whole  earth,  and  the  Roman  pontiff  to  be  himself  the 
successor  of  the  blessed  Peter,  chief  of  the  apostles,  and 
the  true  vicar  of  Christ,  and  to  exist  as  head  of  the  whole 
church  and  father  and  teacher  of  all  Christians ;  and  that 
to  him,  in  the  blessed  Peter,  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  has  com- 
mitted full  power  of  feeding,  governing,  and  directing  the 
universal  church,  even  as  is  [also] '  contained  both  in  the 
acts  of  the  oecumenical  councils  and  in  the  sacred  canons." 

Thus  re-established  and  confirmed  in  his  own  theory  of 
his  oflSce  and  its  functions,  the  Roman  pontiff  regained 
somewhat  of  his  former  hold  on  the  estimation  of  Europe^ 
There  was  also  at  the  same  time  discernible  a  marked 
improvement,  so  far  as  regarded  external  decorum,  in  ths 
associations  of  the  curia ;  and,  until  the  ascendency  of  the 
Borgias,  the  names  of  Nicholas  V.  (1447-55),  Pius  II. 
(1458-G4),  and  Sixtus  FV.  (1471-84)  redeemed  the 
reputation  of  the  Roman  see,  if  not  for  sanctity,  at  least 
for  learning.  The  last-named  pontiff,  however,  lies  under 
the  imputation  of  having  been  the  first  to  institute  trials 
for  witchcraft,  an  example  which  spread,  in  later  times, 
far  wider  than  the  boundaries  of  Roman  Catholicism  itself. 
In  the  latter  half  of  the  15th  century  the  popedom  retires 
altogether  into  the  background  of  European  history.  Thai 
pretensions  of  the  pontiff  were  not,  indeed,  in  any  way 
retracted  or  modified,  but  his  actual  policy  was  no  longer 
commensurate  with  these,  and  the  former  weapons  of  the 
interdict  and  the  anathema  had  fallen  into  disuse.  The 
popes  became  little  more  than  territorial  princes,  their  politi- 
cal and  ecclesiastical  influence  being  exerted  mainly  with 
reference  to  the  material  interests  of  the  States  cf  the 
Church.  It  was  one  of  tho  most  baneful  results  of  these 
changed  external  relations  that  each  more  ambitious  pontiff 
— the  Farnesi,  the  Borgias,  the  Delia  Roveres,  and  the 
Medici — aspired  to  found  an  hereditary  .s&vereignty  or 
principality  in  connexion  with  his  own  family,  and  the 
most  valuable  possessions  of  tho  church  were  successively 
alienated.  By  the  next  pontiff  the  holders  of  such  pro- 
perty would  be  not  unjustly  regarded  as  usurpers,  and  it 
would  be  the  first  aim  of  himself  and  his  party  to  eject 
them  from  the  lands  acd  revenues  thus  acquired.  In  this 
manner  deadly  feuds  were  generated,  which  became  heredi- 
tary in  the  different  families,  and  proved  an  unfailing  source 
of  sanguinary  feuds  and  bitter  animosities. 

With  the  tacit  surrender  of  the  theory  of  the  supremacy 
of  general  councils,  the  Iloly  Roman  Emi)ire  itself  came 
also  virtually  to  an  end ;  and  Germany,  broken  up  into  a 
number  of  independent  principalities,  often  involved  in 
internecine  strife,  presented  a  striking  contrast  to  the 
advances  which  France  and  Spain  were  making  in  tho 
direction  of  consolidation  and  order.  The  papacy  found 
a  direct  apparent  advantage  in  fomenting  this  disunion, 
and  in  no  country  were  the  exactions  of  its  emissaries 
more  shameless  or  extortionate.  Eventually,  however,  both 
these  phases  of  its  policy  proved  eminently  detrimental  to 
the  Roman  interests.  For,  while  the  unscrupulousness  of 
its  agents  did  much  to  foster  a  strong  aversion  to  the 
tenets  which  they  inculcated,  and  thus  paved  the  way  for 
tho  reception  of  Lutheran  doctrines,  tho  isolation  to  which 

'  Kafl'  iv  rpSirov  Kol  if  tuTj  vpaKTiKoTs  rwy  oiKOu/iti'rxa'i'  aundSim 
Ka\  iv  Toil  UfOiS  xdvoai  Sia\aix0ii'fTai.  Tor  o  long  tiiiio  tbc«o  woriU 
were  correctly  reiuUreil  in  llio  Latin,  "qiicni  ad  niodimi  ot  in  gc«ti« 
oicumonicorum  concilionim  ot  in  oacris  cnnonibus  continctiir,"  and  tlie 
psssogo  is  invariably  thua  quoted  by  tho  lOtli  and  early  ICtli  century 
tliuologians.  In  tlio  Roman  edition  of  Abraham  Crotenbis,  however, 
tho  obvious  moaning  of  the  Greek,  viz.,  th,it  the  prerogatives  of  the 
pope  are  to  be  determined  and  exercised  according  to  tlio  canons  of 
tho  ancient  councils,  ia  done  away  with  by  the  change  of  tt  to  etiam ; 
and  the  sense  of  tho  passage  (which  thus  becomes  merely  u  conflr- 
matory  reference)  is,  that  the  prerogatives  onuinoratcU  belonged  to  tl>« 
lio}'r.,  and  weti  "Uo  recojcized  in  the  aueient  councils. 


504 


POPEDOM 


each  German  state  was  reduced  proved  favourable  to  its 
freer  action,  and  enabled  it,  in  no  small  measure,  to  pur- 
sue that  independent  policy  which,  in  several  instances, 
materially  aided  the  progress  of  the  Reformation.  The 
history  of  the  popedom  from  this  point  (c.  1517)  to  the 
commencement  of  the  council  of  Trent  (1545)  will  be  found 
in  the  article  on  the  Refoemation. 

The  distinctive  features  of  the  doctrinal  belief  formu- 
lated by  the  council  of  Trent  were  mainly  the  outcome 
of  Jesuit  influences  (see  Jesuits)  ;  and,  enforced  as  these 
tenets  were  by  the  terrorism  of  the  Inquisition;  the 
freedom  of  thought  which  during  the  revival  of  learning 
had  passed  comparatively  unchallenged  within  the  pale 
of  the  church  was  now  effectually  extinguished.  But  it 
must  at  the  same  time  be  admitted  that,  concurrently 
with  this  tendency  to  greater  rigidity  of  doctrine,  Roman 
Catholicism  became- characterized  by  far  greater  earnest- 
ness of  religious  teaching,  displayed  a  remarkable  activity 
in  the  cultivation  of  theological  learning,  and  abolished,  or 
sought  to  abolish,  many  glaring  abuses.  In  this  amend- 
ment, however,  Rome  had  at  first  but  small  share.  The 
Reformation  movement  within  the  church  took  its  rise  in 
Spain ;  and  the  purely  political  feeling  which  now  con- 
stituted so  considerable  an  element  in  the  papal  policy  led 
each  pontiff  to  regard  with  no  little  jealousy  the  overween- 
ing aggrandizement  of  the  Spanish  monarchy.  Political 
considerations,  in  fact,  sometimes  prevailed  over  theologi- 
cal sympathies.  Paul  III.  (1534-49),  in  endeavouring 
to  triin  his  sails  between  the  contending  influences  of 
France  and  Spain,  more  than  once  took  side  with  the 
powers  who  were  fighting  the  battle  of  Protestantism. 

While  thus  involved  in  antagonism  to  the  chief  of  the 
Catholic  powers,  the  Roman  see  found  its  difficulties  not  a 
little  enhanced  by  the  alienation  of  the  revenues  formerly 
derived  from  those  countries  which  now  professed  the 
Protestant  faith.  Prior  to  the  16th  century  the  States  of 
the  Church  had  enjoyed  an  almost  unrivalled  prosperity. 
That  prosperity  was  mainly  owing  to  their  immunity  from 
direct  taxation.  Nothing  had  contributed  so  much  to  the 
unpopularity  of  Hadrian  VI.  as  his  endeavour  to  levy  a 
small  hearth-tax,  in  order  to  replenish  to  some  extent 
the  cofi'ers  emptied  by  the  prodigality  of  his  predecessor. 
The  loss  of  the  revenues  alienated  by  successive  pontiffs 
was  now  aggravated  by  the  failure  of  the  supplies  derived 
from  the  collection  of  Peter's  pence  and  annates  in  Protest- 
ant countries.  Even  the  sums  levied  in  those  kingdoms 
which  continued  to  profess  Catholicism  suffered  consider- 
able diminution  before  they  reached  the  Roman  treasury, 
and  the  main  source  of  revenue  at  this  period  appears  to 
have  been  that  represented  by  the  sale  of  offices.  In  the 
serious  financial  embarrassment  in  which  the  curia  now 
found  itself  involved,  every  expedient  was  had  recourse  to 
in  order  to  meet  the  inevitable  expenditure ;  and  it  is  to 
the  example  of  the  papal  treasury  that  Von  Ranke  attri- 
butes the  commencement  of  national  debts.  In  default 
of  the  contributions  no  longer  levied  in  England,  in  the 
United  Provinces,  and  in  northern  Germany,  the  pope 
found  himself  under  the  necessity  of  taxing  his  own 
territory;  and  in  this  manner  the.  Romagna,  once  so 
prosperous,  was  crushed  by  a  weight  of  taxation  which 
ultimately  embraced  every  article  of  merchandise.  The 
farmer  and  the  peasant  left  the  land  ;  and  the  papal  pro- 
vinces, formerly  the  most  fertile  and  prosperous  in  Italy, 
degenerated  into  a  series  of  ill-cultivated,  unwholesome, 
and  unproductive  wastes. 

If  left  to  rely  solely  on  the  loyalty  of  its  adherents  and 
the  prevalent  impression  of  its  abstract  merits,  the  position 
of  the  popedom  at  this  period,  viewed  in  connexion  with 
;its  financial  .difficulties,  might  well  have  seemed  almost 
topeless,  had  not  its  interests  been  so  closely  interwoven 


with  those  of  the  secular  power.  The  latter  indeed  was 
frequently  induced  to  connive  at  the  papal  exactions  from 
the  mere  fact  that  it  shared  largely  in  the  proceeds ;  and 
in  France  the  very  advantages  gained  by  the  crown  led  it 
to  regard  with  complacency  a  system  by  which  the  royal 
influence  and  the  royal  revenues  were  alike  so  largely 
augmented.  The  temporal  ruler  was  thus  sometimes 
found  a  firm  supporter  of  the  popedom,  even  although 
involved  in  hostilities  with  the  reigning  pope.  _, 

During  the  pontificate  of  Julius  III.  (1550-55),  who 
dreamed  away  his  closing  years  in  the  splendid  palace 
and  gardens  which  he  had  himself  designed  near  the  Porta 
del  Popolo,  the  curia  played  a  merely  passive  part  in  tho 
great  European  drama ;  but  with  the  accession  of  Cardinal 
Caraffa,  who  assumed  the  title  of  Paul  IV.  (1555-59)J 
it  became  animated  by  another  spirit.  An  energetic 
supporter  of  the  doctrines  already  promulgated  by  tho 
council  of  Trent,  devoted  to  the  cause  of  the  church,  hut 
hating  the  Spaniard  with  the  traditional  hatred  of  a 
Neapolitan,  his  support  was  given  entirely  to  the  French 
interests  in  European  politics.  He  proclaimed  himself  at 
once  the  liberator  of  Italy  and  the  reformer  of  the  church. 
In  his  plans  of  reform,  although  he  relied  mainly  on  the 
Inquisition,  he  included  alike  the  monastic  orders  and 
the  secular  clergy.  His  successor,  Pius  IV.  (1559-G5), 
although  a  man  of  different  character,  pursued  a  similar 
policj-.  The  council  of  Trent  assembled  again  under  Lis 
auspices,  but  its  discussions  now  concerned  only  pgints  of 
Roman  doctrine  and  discipline,  and  the  rupture  with  the 
Protestant  communions  was  complete.  With  the  acces- 
sion of  Pius  V.  (1566-72),  who  had  filled  the  ofiico  of 
chief  inquisitor  in  Rome,  the  conditions  of  the-  papal 
policy  had  become  less  embarrassing.  Spain  now  stoocl 
at  the  head  of  the  Catholic  powers,  and  England  at  the! 
head  of  the  Protestant.*  In  France  the  issue  of  the  deadly 
struggle  that  was  being  waged  between  the  Huguenots  and 
the  League,  which  seemed  likely  to  decide  the  religious 
destinies  of  Europe,  was  still  doubtful.  Philip  II.  accord-^ 
ingly  appeared  as  the  natural  ally  of  the  popedom,  and 
Pius,  having  once  accepted  the  position,  remained  true 
to  this  alliance  throughout.  The  lavish  expenditure  of 
Geegory  XIII.  (1572-85)  brought  back  the  former  con- 
dition of  financial  embarrassment.  He  not  only  made 
large  grants  to  aid  the  cause  of  Catholic  education,  and 
especially  the  newly-founded  colleges  of  the  Jesuits,  but 
he  systematically  subsidized  the  powers  who  fought  on  the 
side  of  the  church.  Although  the  revenues  of  the  papal 
states  were  again  on  the  increase,  the  rate  of  exchange 
during  Pope  Gregory's  pontificate  was  never  once  in  their 
favour.  At  last  the  pressure'  became  insupportable.  The 
spirit  of  Guelf  and  Ghibelline  revived.  The  Romagna 
rose  in  insurrection ;  and,  eventually,  the  aged  pontiff' 
died  broken-hearted  amid  the  disorganization  and  lawless- 
ness which  surrounded  him  oh  every  side.  But  already 
the  tide  of  Protestantism  was  beginning  to  ebb ;  and  the 
famous  bull  In  Cxna  Domini,  which  Gregory  promulgated 
in  1584,  enjoining  the  extirpation  of  the  different  heresies 
in  Germany,  indicated  the  growing  weakness  of  the 
Lutheran  communities. 

The  five  years  embraced  by  the  pontificate  of  Sixtus 
V.  (1585-90),  the  last  of  the  really  great  pontiffs,  mark 
another  great  crisis  in  the  history  of  the  popedom. 
At  his  accession,  the  papal  authority  had  dwindled  to  its 
narrowest  limits,  being  recognized  scarcely  anywhere 
save  in  Spain  and  Italy,  and  in  a  few  islands  of  the 
Mediterranean.  To  his  tact,  ability,  and  good  sense,  con- 
joined with  the  widespread  activity  of  the  Jesuits,  and 
aided  by  the  dissensions  -that  prevailed  among  tlic  Pro- 
testant sects,  Catholicism  was  mainly  indebted  for  the 
remarkable  reaction  in  its  favour  which  set  in  witli  the 


POPEDOM 


605 


closing  years  of  the  16th  century — an  episode  of  which 
the  7  th  book  of  Ranke's  History  of  the  Popes  supplies  a 
comprehensive  sketch.  Sixtus  conciliated  the  great  landed 
proprietors  whom  his  predecessor  had  driven  into  insur- 
rection by  calling  in  question  the  validity  of  their  title- 
deeds  and  by  attempts  to  re-appropriate  their  lands; 
he  repressed  the  prevailing  brigandage  with  merciless 
severity  ;  notwithstanding  his  lowly  extraction,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  winning  the  favour  of  the  great  houses — the 
Colonnas  and  Orsinis  ;  he  developed  the  industries  and 
manufactures  of  the  States ;  no  pontiff  ever  effected  so 
much  for  the  improvement  and  adornment  of  the  capital; 
its  population,  which  under  Paul  IV.  had  sunk  to  forty-five 
thousand,  rose  to  one  hundred  thousand;  "for  the  third 
time,"  says  Ranke,  "Rome  stood  forth  to  view  as  the 
chief  city  of  the  world."  Another  reform  introduced  by 
Sixtus  was  that  by  which  the  college  of  cardinals,  before 
a  fluotuating  body,  was  definitely  fixed  at  seventy.  The 
inconsistencies  of  his  foreign  policy  are  probably  to  be 
partly  explained  by  the  fact  that,  although  the  promo- 
tion of  the  interests  of  the  church  was  his  most  cherished 
object,  he  had  conceived  a  thorough  distrust  of  Philip  II. 
At  the  same  time,  while  he  believed  that  those  interests 
■would  be  most  effectually  served  by  the  establishment  of 
peace  and  order,  he  necessarily  regarded  with  aversion  the 
revolutionary  doctrines  of  the  League,  democratic  in  poli- 
tics although  ultramontane  in  doctrine.  From  Henry 
of  Navarre,  iudeed,  he  could  not  withhold  his  tribute  of 
admiration;  and  on  the  death  of  Henry  III.  he  revoked 
the  sentence  of  excommunication  which  he  had  pronounced 
against  the  great  Huguenot  leader,  and  by  his  general 
policy  facilitated  his  return  to  the  communion  of  the 
iihurcit  In  like  manner,  although  he  sanctioned  the 
iicheme  of  the  Spanish  Armada,  and  even  promised  a  mag- 
nificent subvention  to  the  enterprise,  as  soon  as  he  learned 
that,  if  successful,  it  might  result  in  the  annexation  of 
England  to  the  crown  of  Spain,  he  withdrew  his  support, 
«nd,  when  the  failure  of  the  expedition  was  known,  could 
lot  conceal  his  satisfaction. 

From  the  time  of  Sixtus  V.  the  chief  importance  and 
interest  of  papal  history  are  to  be  found  in  its  relations  to 
France  and  Spain  and  to  the  Jesuit  order  (see  Jesuits, 
vol.  xiii.  pp.  652-656)  and,  somewhat  later,  to  Jesuitism 
and  Jansenism  (see  Jansenism,  vol.  xiii.  p.  566)  combined. 
During  the  rest  of  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.  France  witnessed 
a  virtual  triumph  of  Galilean  principles;  and,  although 
he  himself  became  a  humble  suppliant  for  readmission 
within  the  communion  of  the  Roman  Church,  it  was  only 
to  give  more  effectual  expression  to  the  principles  of 
religious  toleration.  The  edict  of  Nantes  (1598)  was 
promulgated,  in  fact,  in  defiance  of  the  strongly  expressed 
disapproval  of  Clement  VIII.  (1592-1605).  The  per- 
mission accorded  to  the  Jesuits  to  return  to  France 
(1603)  was  a  measure  resolved  upon  by  Henry  in  op- 
position to  the  advice  of  both  De  Thou  and  Suily.  He 
appears  to  have  been  actuated  simply  by  motives  of  ex- 
pediency, but  his  expectations  proved  singularly  fallacious. 
The  Jesuits  turned  the  opportunity  thus  afforded  them  to 
signal  account,  and  succeeded  in  establishing  a  powerful 
a'icendency  in  Franco  throughout  the  17th  and  the  first 
hilf  of  the  18th  century.  The  pontilicate  of  Clement  was 
distinguished  by  two  other  events,  the  one  memorable  in 
liolitics,  the  other  in  literature.  Of  these,  the  former  was 
the  reversion  of  the  duchy  of  Fcrrara,  claimed  from  the 
house  of  Este  by  the  apostolic  see  as  an  escheated  fief ; 
the  other  was  the  publication  of  the  greater  part  of  the 
Anmdea  Ea-lcsiitstici  of  Baionius,  a  work  of  immense  labour 
and  research,  which,  although  it  could  not  stand  the  test  of 
later  criticism,  rendered  material  support  to  the  pretensions 
of  the  papacy.     Baronius  himself  always  maintained  that 

19— 19* 


the  papacy  was  more  indebted  to  France  than  to  any  other 
European  power ;  and  on  the  death  of  Clement  his  claim 
to  the  papal  chair  was  strongly  supported  by  the  French 
jiarty  in  the  conclave,  his  election  being,  however.  los4 
through  the  opposition  of  the  party  of  Spain. 

It  was  chiefly  by  skilful  manoeuvring  that,  after  the 
few  days'  pontificate  of  Leo  XL,  the  election  of  the  Car- 
dinal Borghese,  as  Paul  V.  (1605-21),  was  carried,  not- 
withstanding the  opposition  of  the  same  party.  Paul's 
election  had  really  been  in  no  small  measure  owing  to 
the  fact  that  his  previous  career  had  not  happened  to 
involve  him  in  enmity  with  any  of  the  cardinals.  It  is 
stated  that  Cardinal  iSellarmine  would  have  been  chosen 
in  his  place,  but  the  conclave  dreaded  the  consequences  of 
raising  a  Jesuit  to  the  papal  chair.  Paul  affected,  how- 
ever, himself  to  regard  his  election  as  owing  to  the  special 
intervention  of  Providence,  and  assumed  the  air  and  de- 
meanour which  he  held  suitable  to  one  divinely  commis- 
sioned to  restore  the  pontifical  office  to  it«  former  dignitj. 
No  pontiff  ever  insisted  with  more  inflexible  rigour  on 
the  attributes  and  exclusive  jmwers  of  his  office.  In  the 
measures  which  he  initiated  for  the  purpose  of  extending 
the  influence  and  possessions  of  the  church,  Paul  soon 
found  himself  involved  in  a  conflict  with  the  powerful  and 
flourishing  republic  of  Venice.  He  accused  the  Signory  of 
opposing  the  institution  of  monastic  and  other  religious 
foundations,  of  conniving  at  the  alienation  of  ecclesiasti- 
cal property  and  at  the  suspension  of  the  authority  of  the 
ecclesiastical  courts.  Finding  those  whom  he  addre!.sed 
less  amenable  to  his  wishes  than  he  anticipated,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  lay  the  whole  republic  under  an  interdict. 
Such  a  sentence  rendered  it  obligatory  on  the  religious 
orders  throughout  the  province  to  discontinue  all  the 
customary  religious  services ;  the  republic,  however,  en- 
joined them,  under  pain  of  fcanishment,  to  continue  those 
services  as  before.  The  Jesuits,  along  with  two  other 
newly-founded  orders,  the  Capuchins  and  the  Theitines, 
alone  ventured  to  disobey,  and  were  banished  from  the 
province.  A  fierce  controver.sy  ensued,  in  which  the  con- 
duct of  the  republic  was  vindicated  by  the  able  pen  of 
Fra  Paolo  Sarpi  (better  known  as  "Father  Paul"),  while 
Baronius  and  Bellarmine  defended  the  cause  of  Rome., 
By  Englishmen  at  that  time  resident  in  Italy,  such  as  Sir 
Henry  Wotton  and  the  eminent  Bedell  (afterwards  bishop 
of  Ardagh),  and  by  the  English  court,  the  contest  was 
watched  with  lively  interest  as'  affording  hopes  of  an 
Italian  Reformation.  The  quarrel  was  skilfully  fomented 
by  Spain,  and  actual  hostilities  were  averted  only  by  the 
mediation  of  Henry  IV.  of  France.  The  later  years  of 
Paul's  pontificate  present  hin^  in  the  more  favourable  light 
of  a  reformer  of  many  abuses  which  had  crept  into  the 
law-courts  of  the  States,  and  the  author  of  nunrerous  im- 
provements in  the  capital.  He  enlarged  both  the  A'utican 
and  the  Quirinal ;  and  the  Borgheso  family  from  his  time 
ranked  as  one  of  the  wealthiest  in  the  city. 

The  protection  extended  to  the  Jesuits  by  Paul  wasi 
continued  by  his  successor,  Gregory  XV.  (1621-23),  and 
was  well  repaid  by  their  devotion  and  energy  as  pro- 
pagandists. Gradually,  in  kingdom  after  kingdom,  in 
principality  after  principality,  the  ground  won  by  Pro- 
testantism, whether  of  the  Lutheran  or  the  Reformed  son-, 
fcssion,  was  in  a  great  measure  recovered.  In  Bohemia, 
in  Silesia,  and  in  Moravia  the  Protestant  ministers,  if  not 
put  to  death  or  imprisoned,  were  driven  out,  their  churches 
closed,  and  their  congregations  forbidden  to  assomble. 
Even  in  the  United  Provinces  numerous  converts  were 
made,  and  a  footing  regained  for  Catholic  teaching  n-hich 
has  never  since  been  lost,  while  in  Asia  and  in  Atjerica 
new  territories  were  won  which  might  fairly  seem  to  com- 
pensate the  church  for  all  that  had  been  wrested  from 


506 


POPEDOM 


it  in  the  Old  World  The  cordial  co-operation  of  the 
curia  with  the  society  of  Jesus  was  suspended,  however, 
during  the  pontificate  of  Urban  VIIL  (1623-44).  A 
man  of  resolute  and  imperious  nature,  his  conception  of 
his  own  prerogatives  is  indicated  by  his  memorable  retort, 
when,  on  one  occasion,  he  was  confronted  with  a  quota- 
tion from  the  pontifical  constitutions,  that  the  dictum  of  a 
living  pope  was  worth  more  than  those  of  a  hundred  dead 
ones.  He  claimed,  indeed,  the  promptest  deference  for 
his  decisions ;  while  the  college  of  cardinals,  which  he  but 
rarely  assembled  in  consistory,  was  treated  by  him  with 
little  respect.  A  Florentine  by  birth,  he  had  witnessed  in 
his  earlier  years  the  bitter  struggle  between  the  popedom 
and  Spain  J  and  it  had  become  the  cherished  design  of 
his  life  to  render  the  States  powerful  and  independent, 
and  himself,  as  pontiff,  the  representative  of  a  formidable 
political  confederation.  To  this  end  he  deemed  it  essen- 
tial to  prevent  the  duchy  of  Mantua  from  falling  into  the 
hands  of  a  ruler  who  represented  an  influence  antagonistic 
to,  or  independent  of,  Spain  ;  and  in  pursuit  of  this  policy 
he  sought  the  aid  of  Richelieu.  It  was  the  time  when 
the  great  cardinal  was  maturing  his  designs  against  the 
house  of  Hapsburg ;  and,  somewhat  singularly,  the  pope- 
dom was  thus  brought  into  political  alliance  with  the 
statesman  who  was  aiming  at  the  overthrow  of  the  very 
power  to  which  Roman  Catholicism  had  been  most 
indebted  for  its  restoration.  In  the  policy  of  Richelieu 
and  that  of  Urban  there  was  indeed  a  similar  inconsist- 
ency. The  former,  while  he  persecuted  the  Huguenots  at 
home,  allied  himself  with  Protestant  powers  like  England, 
the  United  Provinces,  and  the  northern  German  princi]»ali- 
ties ;  the  latter,  while  he  had  recourse  to  the  most  rigorous 
measures  for  the  suppression  of  Protestantism  in  Germany, 
allied  himself  with  the  power  on  which  that  Protestant- 
ism mainly  relied  for  support.  It  is  scarcely  too  much  to 
affirm  to  say  that  Protestantism,  in  the  first  half  of  the 
I7th  century,  owed  its  very  existence  on  the  Continent  to 
the  political  exigencies  of  the  popedom.  During  Urban's 
pontificate,  in  the  year  1634,  the  duchy  of  Urbino  was 
incorporated,  like  Ferrara,  into  the  papal  dominions,  which 
now  extended  from  the  Tiber  to  the  Po,  uninterrupted 
save  by  the  little  republic  of  San  Marino. 

the  policy  of  Innocemt  X.  (1644-55)  was  a  complete 
reversal  of  that  of  his  predecessor,  whose  family  he  perse- 
(juted  with  implacable  animosity.  So  injurious  indeed  were 
the  effects  of  the  contentions  produced  by  these  family 
feuds  on  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  the  city  that  Alex- 
ander VII.  (1655-67)  on  his  election  took  an  oath  before 
the  crucifix  that  he  would  never  receive  his  kindred  in 
Rome.  Not  less  serious  were  the  dissensions  produced  by 
the  strife  of  political  parties.  We  find  an  English  visitor 
to  Rome,  during  Innocent's  pontificate,  deeming  it  prudent 
to  place  himself  under  the  protection  of  two  cardinals — the 
one  representing  the  French,  the  other  the  Spanish  faction. 
In  Innocent's  eyes  the  treaty  of  Westphalia  assumed  the 
aspect  of  a  twofold  disaster :  in  the  humiliation  which  it 
inflicted  on  the  house  of  Hapsburg ;  and  in  the  distinctness 
with  which  it  proclaimed  the  superiority  of  the  state  over 
the  church,  by  the  declaration  that  aU  ordinances  of  the 
canon  or  civil  law  which  might  be  found  to  be  at  variance 
with  the  provisions  of  the  treaty  should  be  considered  null 
and  void.  Innocent  even  went  so  far  as  to  denounce  the 
treaty  and  to  threaten  those  who  assented  to  its  provisions 
with  excommunication — a  menace  treated  with  contemptu- 
ous indifference  even  by  the  Catholic  powers.  Throughout 
the  reign  of  Louis  XTV.,  indeed,  there  existed  a  perfect 
understanding  between  that  monarch  and  the  Jesuits; 
and  with  their  support  he  could  set  the  pope  himself  at 
deliance  with  impunity.  Louis  asserted  more  unreservedly 
than  any  of  his  predecessors  the  royal  privileges   known 


as  the  droit  de  regale.  By  this  ancient  right  the  crown 
claimed,  whenever  a  bishopric  was  vacant,  both  the 
revenues  and  the  distri!..atioa-of  patronage  attached  to 
the  see  as  long  as  the  vacancy  continued.  But  in  the 
southern  provinces  of  Guienne,  Languedoc,  Provence,  and 
Dauphine  this  right  had  hitherto  never  been  enforced. 
Inanedict  issued  in  1673,  however,  Louis  declared  that 
the  droit  de  regale  would  in  future  be  enforced  throughout 
the  whole  extent  of  the  royal  dominions.  It  was  in  vain 
that  Innocent  protested  and  threatened  to  excommunicate 
those  who  espoused  the  royal  claims.  Louis,  who  was 
supported  by  the  great  mass  of  the  French  clergy,  remained 
firm ;  and  nine  years  later  a  further  blow  was  aimed  at 
papal  predominance  by  the  promulgation  of  the  famous 
Declaratio  Cleri  Gallicani.  la  this  notable  manifesto, 
which  was  drawn  up  at  St  Germains  in  1682  and  revised 
by  Bossuet,  a  formal  denial  was  given  to  the  theory  that 
the  pope  had  any  power  over  the  temporalities  of  kings ; 
the  superiority  of  a  general  council  over  the  pope  was 
once  again  affirmed ;  the  administration  of  the  affairs  of 
the  church  by  the  pontiff,  it  was  declared,  ought  in  all 
cases,  to  be  subject  to  the  canon  law,  and  the  papal 
authority  to  be  exercised  exclusively  in  connexion  with 
questions  of  dogma,  but  even  in  such  matters  the  de- 
cisions of  the  pontiff  were  not  infallible  and  were  subject 
to  revision.  Innocent  XL  (1676-89),  who  had  in  the 
meantime  succeeded  to  the  papal  chair,  declared  these 
resolutions  to  be  null  and  void,  and  severely  censured  the 
French  bishops  who  had  assented  to  them.  His  repu- 
tation for  integrity  and  a  genuine  desire  to  reform  the 
church  gave  additional  force  to  his  protest.  Among  other 
measures  for  restoring  order  in  Rome  he  had  deprived  the 
French  ambassador  of  the  much-abused  right  of  asylum 
which,  by  long  tradition,  attached  to  the  embassy  and  its 
extensive  precincts,  and  afforded  shelter  to  many  of  the 
most  desperate  characters  in  the  city.  The  ambassador 
refused  to  yield  up  the  privilege,  and  Innocent  thereupon 
excommunicated  him.  Louis  now  seized  upon  Avignon, 
took  the  papal  nuncio  prisoner,  and  convened  a  general 
council.  It  was  even  believed  that  he  had  at  one  time  con- 
ceived the  design  of  creating  the  archbishop  of  Paris,  who 
seconded  and  approved  his  policy,  patriarch  of  France,  and 
thus  severing  the  last  ties  that  bound  the  Gallican  Church 
to  the  popedom.  The  courage  arid  resolution  which  Inno- 
cent exhibited  under  these  trying  circumstances  were  by 
no  means  inspired  solely  by  the  conviction  of  the  justice  of 
his  cause.  Perhaps  at  no  period  are  the  interests  and  sym- 
pathies of  religious  parties  to  be  found  presenting  a  more 
complicated  study.  All  Europe  at  this  time  was  watching 
with  alarm  the  rapid  aggrandizement  of  the  French  mon- 
archy ;  and  Innocent,  in  his  desire  to  see  some  check  placed 
on  that  aggrandizement,  was  even  far  from  wishing  that 
the  Huguenots  should  be  expelled  from  France.  With 
William  of  Orange  he  openly  avowed  his  sympathy,  and  it 
was  from  secret  papers  in  the  cabinet  of  his  minister  of 
state  that  Louis,  through  the  agency  of  a  spy,  first  learned 
the  prince's  designs  upon  England.  While  the  Jesuits, 
again,  were  co-operating  with  Louis  in  his  assertion  of  the 
Gallican  liberties,  the  Protestant  powers  were  giving  in- 
direct support  to  the  maintenance  of  the  papal  pretensions. 
From  the  Jesuits  Louis  also  received  valuable  aid  in  the 
question  of  the  Spanish  succession ;  and  it  is  to  their 
machinations  that  contemporary  writers  ascribe  the  fact 
that  the  Bourbon,  Philip  of  Anjou,  was  named  by  Charles 
II.  as  the  heir  to  the  Spanish  monarchy. 

The  virtues  and  milder  wisdom  of  Innocent  XII.  (1691- 
1700)  won  from  Louis  what  the  unconciliatory  attitude  of 
his  two  predecessors.  Innocent  XI.  and  Alexander  VUJ. 
(1689-91)  had  not  been  able  to  obtain.  In  1693  Louis 
himself  notified  to  the  pontiff  that  the  "  Declaratiou"  would 


POPEDOM 


50', 


no  longer  bo  imposea  as  obligatory  on  the  Gallican  clergy. 
Innocent  responded  by  giving  his  assent  to  tho  above- 
meutioned.  disposition  of  the  Spanish  crown  by  Charles  II. 
Otber  circumstances  concurred  to  bridge  over  tho  breach 
which  for  half  a  century  had  separated  the  French  monarchy 
from  the  popedom.  The  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes 
(1685)  had  conciliated  both  the  curia  and  the  Jesuits ;  and 
in  1699  the  feeling  of  accord  between  the  French  monarch 
and  Innocent  was  confirmed  by  the  condemnation  of 
F^nelon's  Maximes  den  Saints.  While  Protestantism  was 
bjing  crushed  in  France,  Catholicism  was  obtaining  in 
o'.her  countries  the  immunities  which  it  would  not  grant. 
la  1697  the  elector  Frederick  Augustus  11.  consented  to 
declare  himself  a  Catholic  in  order  to  gain  the  crown  of 
Poland,  and  by  this  means  a  certain  toleration  was  secured 
for  Roman  doctrine  among  a  population  bigotedly  attached 
to  Lutheranism.  In  1713  the  celebrated  constitution  Vni- 
ffoiiius  Dei  Fitius  promulgated  by  Clement  XL  (1700-21) 
not  only  proved  a  death-blow  to  Jansenism,  but  involved  in 
nearly  the  same  fate  that  party  which  had  hitherto  fought 
tlje  battle  of  liberalism  in  the  Gallican  Church.  "All  the 
extravagancies,"  says  a  recent  writer,  "  engendered  by  Jan- 
nehism  in  its  later  and  more  questionable  developments 
lecoiled,  however  unjustly,  upon  the  system  of  ecclesiastical 
|>olicy  vindicated  by  Gerson,  De  Jlarca,  and  Bossuet.  Jan- 
penism  became  manifestly  dangerous  to  public  order  and 
the  security  of  the  state ;  Gallicanism,  in  the  view  of  a 
despotic  Government,  seemed  involved  in  the  same  odious 
category ;  and  it  was  deemed  necessary,  in  consequence,  to 
visit  both  with  an  impartial  exhibition  of  the  ^me  perse- 
cuting rigour"  (Jervis,  Church  of  France,  ii.  278).  Many 
of  the  Jansenists,  driven  from  France,  retired  to  Utrecht, 
a  church  which,  without  professing  Jansenist  principles, 
long  continued  to  uphold  the  standard  of  doctrine  fixed  by 
Tridentine  canons  in  opposition  to  the  dangerous  advance 
of  Jesuitism.  The  Jansenists  were  always  distinguished 
by  their  resolute  opposition  to  the  theory  of  papal  infalli- 
bility, and  with  their  fall  a  chief  obstacle  to  the  promulga- 
tion of  that  dogma  was  removed. 

But,  v/hile,  with  respect  to  the  acceptance  of  doctrine, 
the  losses  of  the  16th  century  were  thus  materially 
retrieved,  the  popedom  was  sinking  rapidly  in  political 
importance.  Its  influence  in  the  Italian  peninsula  dwind- 
led to  within  the  limits  of  the  States  of  the  Church ;  and 
the  dynastic  succession  in  Naples  and  Sicily,  in  Parma 
and  Piacenza,  underwent  a  total  change  without  the  curia 
or  the  pontifical  interests  being  in  any  way  consulted. 
Tlie  results,  of  tho  War  of  the  Spanish  Succession  dis- 
appointed in  every  way  the  hopes  of  Clement  XI. ;  and  his 
chagrin,  when  he  found  himself  compelled  to  recognize  the 
pretensions  of  the  archduke  Charles  to  the  Spanish  crown, 
was  intense.  The  manner  in  wJiich  the  conclusion  of  the 
war  demonstrated  the  growing  power  of  England  was  again 
a  sinister  omen  for  the  permanence  of  the  papal  system. 

The  order  to  whose  efforts,  notwithstanding  an  excep- 
tional experience  in  France,  the  popedom  had  in  other 
countries  been  largely  indebted  was  also  destined  to  a 
signal  reverse.  Tho  conviction  had  long  been  growing  up 
in  tho  chief  cities  of  the  Continent  that  wherever  tho 
representatives  of  Jesuitism  obtained  a  footing  the  cause 
of  public  order  and  domestic  peace  was  placed  in  jeopardy. 
And,  while,  in  distant  lands,  the  vannted  successes  of  the 
Jesuit  missionaries  too  often  represented  tho  diffusion  of  a 
merely  nominal  Christianity,  their  activity  as  traders  was 
a,  constant  source  of  irritation  to  the  mercantile  communi- 
ties. We  find,  accordingly,  tho  statesmen  of  Catholic 
Europe  exhibiting,  id  tho  middle  of  tho  18th  century,  a 
remarkable  unanimity  in  their  estimate  of  Jesuitism  as  a 
mischievous  clement  in  society,  and  also  showing  an  in- 
creasing determination  to  bring  all  ecclesiastical  institu- 


tions more  and  more  under  the  control  of  tlie  civil  power. 
Carvalho,  the  Portuguese  minister,  who  had  himself  become 
involved  in  a  deadly  struggle  with  the  order  at  coart,  called 
upon   Benedict  XIV.   (1740-58)   to  take  measures  for 
enforcing  fundamental   reforms  among  the  whole  body. 
Benedict,  who  recognized  perhaps  more  fully  than  any  other 
pontiff  of  the  century  the  signs  of  the  times,  and  who  intro- 
duced not  a  few  salutary  reforms  in  the  general  relation^ 
of  the  curia,  was  far  from  disinclined  for  the  task,  but  died 
before  his  schemes  could  be  put  in  operation.     His  suc- 
cessor, Clement  XIIL  (1758-69),  on  the  other  Iiand,  pro- 
fessed to  discern  in  the  Jesuit  body  the  surest  stay  of  the 
church,   and   in  1765   gave  his  formal  sanction  to   the 
peculiar  form   of  devotion   which   they  had   introduced, 
known  as  the  worship  of  the  Sacred  Heart.     In  1768  he 
condemned  their  expulsion  from  France  as  "a  grievous 
injury  inflicted  at  once  upon  the  church  and  the  holy  see." 
The  dissensions  fomented  by  their  agency  at  the  Bourbon 
courts  continued,  however,  to  increase ;  and  in  1769  the 
representatives  of  the  chief  Catholic  powers  at  the  Eoman 
court  received   instructions    to    present   each    a   formal 
demand  that  the  Jesuit  order  should  be  secularized  and 
abolished.     Clemeut,   who  had   vainly  appealed    to   the 
empress  Maria  Theresa  for  the  exertion  of  her  influence^ 
died  suddenly  of  apoplexy  on  the  day  preceding  that  on 
which  a  consistory  was  to  have  been  held  for  the  purpose 
of  giving  effect  to  the  demands  of  the  powers.     It  wae 
expressly  with  the  view  that   he  -should  carry  out  the 
task  which  his  predecessor  had  sought  to  evade  that  Car- 
dinal Ganganelli,  Clement  XIV.  (1769-74),  was  raised  to 
the  pontifical  chair,  chiefly  through  the  Bourbon  interest 
Originally  a  Franciscan  friar,  and  a  man  of  retiring  un- 
worldly disposition,  the  new  pontiff'  was  painfully  embar- 
rassed by  the  responsibilities  attaching  to  the  policy  which 
he  was  expected  to  carry  out.     At  length,  after  four  years 
spent  in   balancing  conflicting  evidence  and  overcoming 
the  scruples  of  his  own  mind,  he  issued  the  brief  Dominui 
et   Redemptor  Hosier,  for  the  s'Uppression   of  the  orderj 
which  he  declared  to  have  merited  its  ruin  by  "its  rest 
lessness  of  spirit  and  audacity  of  action."     The  remorse 
which  he  was  said  to  have  subsequentlj'  exhibited,  com 
bined  with  his  sudden  afid  mysterious  end,  were  not  with 
out  considerable  effect  upon  his  successor,  Pius  VI.  (1775- 
99),  who  observed  the  utmost  caution  in  carrying  out  tht 
decree  of  Clement,  and  devoted  his  main  efforts  during  his 
long  pontificate  to  diverting  the  mind  of  Christendom  from 
questions  of  doctrine  to  others  of  a  practical  and  more 
pleasing  character.     The  austere  simplicity  which  had  dis- 
tinguished tho  Roman  court  in  the  time  of  Clement  was 
exchanged  for  more  than  regal  pomp  and  magnificence, 
while   the  i)ontiff's  own  subjects  were  benefited   by   tht 
draining  of  the  Pontine  marshes,  a  work  of  immense  labour, 
whereby  a  vast  district  extending  along  the  sea  coast  south 
of  Rome  was  converted  from  an  unhealthy  swamp  into  a 
plain  that  subserved  in  some  measure  the  purposes  both  ol 
agriculture  and  commerce.     That  the  sujipression  of  tht 
Jesuit  order  had  been  attended  with  no  little  danger  to 
the  interests  of  tho  Roman  see  was  clearly  shown  by  the 
progress  which  liberal  opinions  now  began  to  make  in 
Germany.     The  valuable  researches  of  Muratori,  which 
appeared  in  the  earlier  half  of  tho  16th  century  had  thrown 
a  flood  of  light  on  all  the  circumstances  of  the  develop- 
ment of  the  medieval  papacy,  and  his  labours  as  an  editor 
had  served,  at  the  same  time,  to  render  tho  successive 
contemjiorary  writers  accessible  for  the  first  time  to  the 
ordinary  scholar.     In  tho  year  1763  the  famous  treatise 
of  Nicholas  von  Ilontheim,  suffragan  bishop  of  Treves, 
published  under  tho  pseudonym  of  "  Febroniu-s,"  produced 
a  profound  impression.     It  was  entitled  On  the  State  oj 
the  ChurJi  and  tM  Lcgitinuite  Power  of  tht  Roman  Bisliop, 


508 


P  0  P  E  D  0  I^I 


and  was  mainly  devoted  to  pointing  out  liow  largely 
the  false  decretals,  and  the  application  of  their  doc- 
trines, had  been  made  to  subserve  the  later  pretensions 
of  Rome,  and  more  especially  her  claims  to  assert  the 
supremacy  of  the  pontiff  over  general  councils.  On  the 
accession  of  Joseph  II.,  in  17S0,  to  the  throne  of  Austria, 
a  new  era  commenced  throughout  the  empire.  Half  the 
monasteries  and  friaries  were  suiiprcssed.  The  bulls  Uni- 
geiiitas  and  In  Ccena  Domini  were  declared  null  and  void 
ivithin  the  limits  of  the  empire.  Toleration  was  extended 
to  Protestant  sect-s  and  to  members  of  the  Greek  Church; 
and  the  introduction  of  papal  dispensations  within  the 
Austrian  dominions  was  declared  unlawful,  unless  it  could 
lie  shown  that  they  were  obtained  without  j^ayment.  Pius 
VI.  vainly  endeavoured  to  divert  the  emperor  from  his 
(lolicy  of  reform  by  a  personal  visit  to  Vienna  in  1782. 
He  was  received  with  enthusiasm  by  the  populace,  but 
with  coldness  by  the  emperor,  and  by  prince  Kaunitz,  the 
emperor's  chief  adviser,  with  absolute  rudeness.  A  few 
years  later  the  outbreak  of  the  French  Revolution  seemed 
to  portend  for  the  popedom  a  like  fate  to  that  which  had 
overtaken  the  Jesuit  order.  A  movement  which  abolished 
tithes,  rejected  Catholicism  as  the  state  religion,  and  con- 
fiscated the  property  of  the  church  and  the'  monastic 
orders  in  France  was  not  likely,  when  its  representatives 
appeared  in  Italy,  lo  deal  leniently  with  papal  institutions. 
The  demeanour  of  the  National  Assembly  towards  Pius 
himself  had  not  been  disrespectful ;  but  the  outrages  on 
religious  sentiment  and  decency  itself  perpetrated  by  the 
Convention  drove  the  alarmed  pontiff  into  the  arms  of 
Austria,  with  whom  and  the  several  reigning  Italian 
princes  he  hastily  concluded  an  offensive  league.  In  the 
Italian  campaign  he-  met  accordingly  with  no  mercy  at 
the  hands  of  the  Directory,  and  of  Bonaparte  acting  as 
their  representative.  In  1797,  first  of  all  at  Bologna  and 
subsequently  at  Tolentino,  the  most  rigorous  conditions 
were  imposed.  The  pbntiff  was  compelled  to  cede  to 
France  not  only  Avignon  and  the  Venaissin,  but  also  the 
legations  of  Bologna,  Ferrara,  and  the  Romagna— an 
extent  of  territory  representing  fully  a  third  of  the  papal 
dominions ;  while  at  the  same  time-  a-  heavy  pecuniary 
contribution  was  levied.  Shortly  after  the  peace  of 
Tolentino  (February  1797)  Pius  was  seized  with  an  illness 
which  seemed  likely,  at  his  advanced  time  of  life,  to  prove 
fatal ;  and  Napoleon,  in  anticipation  of  his  death,  gave 
ristructions  that  no  successor  to  the  office  should  be 
elected,  and  that  the  papal  government  should  be  abolished. 
The  sequel,  however,  having  disappointed  these  expecta- 
tions, the  French  ambassador  in  Rome  proceeded  through 
liis  agents  to  foment  an  insurrection — a  design  for  w^hich 
the  demoralized  condition  of  the  capital  afforded  unusual 
facilities.  The  outbreak  that  ensued  was  immediately 
made  the  pretext  for  abolishing  the  existing  rule,  and 
in  its  place  the  Roman  republic  was  proclaimed  (15th 
February  1798).  Neither  his  estimable  character  nor 
his  advanced  years  served  to  shield  the  dethroned  pontiff 
from  wanton  cruelty  and  indignities.  He  was  treated  as 
virtually  a  prisoner,  his  private  property  confiscated,  and 
at  last,  after  having  been  removed  from  one  place  of  con- 
finement to  another,  he  expired  at  Valence,  in  August 
1799,  at  the  age  of  eighty-two. 

It  was  under  the.  protection  of  a  schismatic  power, — 
that  of  the  emperor  of  Russia,-:— that,  after  a  lapse  of  eight 
months,  Pius  VII.  (1800-'23)  was  elected  pope  at  Venice. 
To  ordinary  observers  the  condition  of  the  papacy  at  this 
time  seemed  almost  hopeless ;  and  the  skill  with  which 
those  who  guided  its  policy  converted  the  very  theories  and 
ei'ents  of  the  Revolution  itself  into  a  ladder  whereby  to 
regain  the  ancient  vantage-ground  is  in  its  way  not  less  re- 
markable than  that  contemporarv  career  of  military  genius 


which  was  before  long  destined  to-  so  sudden  an  cclipso, 
Latin  Christendom,  observes  Bunsen,  seems  throughout  its 
history  to  have  been  ever  vacillating- between  two  extremes 
— that  of  the  grossest  superstition  and  that  of  the  pro- 
foundest  scepticism,  of  bigotry  and  of  atheism.  It  can 
scarcely,  indeed,  be  doubted  that  the  tolerance  and  indiffer- 
ence, the  results  of  contempt  with  respect  to  all  religious 
questions,  which  followed  ujion  the  Revolution  largely 
favoured  the  reintroduction  of  Roman  doctrine.  By  the 
curia  itself  the  experiences  of  the  past  were  interpreted  in 
a  manner  eminently  favourable  to  its  own  pretensions  ;  the 
altar,  it  was  asserted,  was  ever  the  surest  support  of  the 
throne,  and  the  spiritual  authority  claimed  by  the  supreme 
pontiff  afforded  the  best  security  for  the  maintenance  of 
really  free  institutions.  Pius  VII.,  who  as  Cardinal  Chiara- 
monte  had  at  one  time  affected  to  approve  of  democratic 
principles,  succeeded  in  gaining  the  good  will  of  Bonaparte, 
and  his  accession  was  shortly  followed  by  the  concordat  of 
1801.  The  First  Consul  had  already  astonished  the  world 
by  the  startling  change  of  opinion  to  which  he  gave  ex- 
pression in  the  Declaration  of  Milan,  to  the  effect  that 
"  society  without  religion  is  like  a  ship  without  a  compass"; 
and,  having  now  resolved  on  the  restoration  of  a  monarchical 
form  of  government,  he  effected  an  apparent  reconciliation 
with  the  Roman  pontiff  in  order  to  strengthen  his  own 
hands.  Catholicism  was  re-established  as  the  state  religion 
of  France ;  but  the  confiscated  property  of  the  church  was 
not  restored,  while  the  pretended  reintroduction  of  the 
papal  authority  was  deprived  of  all  real  validity  by  append- 
ing to  the  concordat  certain  "  articles  organiques "  whicli 
effectually  debarred  the  pontiff  from  the  exercise  of  any 
real  jurisdiction  within  the  realm.  In  the  concordat  made 
with  the  Italian  republic  in  1803  the  canon  law  was 
revived  as  the  code  wher«by  all  questions  not  provided 
for  in  new  articles  were  to  be  decided.  Notwithstanding 
that  he  warmly  resented  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
been  duped,  Pius  was  ultimately  prevailed  upon  by  the 
corfsummate  address  of  Talleyrand  to  crown  Napoleon  i.s 
emperor  in  Paris.  The  immediate  result  of  this  imprudent 
act,  as  regarded  the  popedom,  was  the  apsertion  of  imperial 
rights  in  Rome  itself  on  the  part  of  the.  new  emperor,  and 
a  demand  that  the  pontiff  should  henceforth  make  common 
cause  with  him  against  the  enemies  of  France,  On  his 
refusal  Pius  was  made  a  prisoner,  and  the  temporal  sove- 
reignty of  the  Roman  see  declared  to  be  at  an  end.  At 
Fontainebleau,  in  1813,  a  new  concordat  was  wrung  from 
the  infirm  and  aged  pontiff  (whose  position  and  treatment 
strongly  recalled  those  of  his  predecessor),  and  he  was 
compelled  to  surrender  almost  the  last  remnants  of  his 
authority  in  France  and  to  disown  all  claim  to  rank  as  a 
temporal  ruler.  Pius  VII.  survived,  however,  not  only  to 
witness  the  overthrow  of  his  oppressor,  but  to  regain  with 
the  Restoration  both  his  spiritual  and  temporal  preroga- 
tives ;  and  it  was  a  notable  feature  in  the  proceedings 
that  his  resumption  of  the  traditional  pontifical  rights  in 
connexion  with  the  legations  was  effected,  in  opposition  to 
the  wishes  of  Austria,  with  the  support  of  England.  H« 
regained  his  chair,  indeed,  amid  the  best  wishes  of  the 
Protestant  povrers, — a  sympathy  which,  had  he  chosen  to 
throw  his  influence  into  the  scale  that  favoured  advance- 
ment and  reform,  he  might  have  retained  unimpaired  td 
the  close  of  his  pontificate.  His  policy,  however,  was 
thenceforth  altogether  reactionary.  On  the  one  hand  he 
suppressed  the  circulation  of  the  Scriptures  in  the  verna- 
cular ;  on  the  other,  by  a  bull  of  7th  August  1814,  he 
recalled  the  Jesuits,  who  since  their  dispersion  in  Latin 
Christendom  had  transferre'd  the  scenp  of  their  labours  to 
Prussia  and  Russia.  In  other  respects  Pius's  adminis^ 
tratioii  of  his  office  was  exemplary,  and  the  same  may  be 
said  of  that  of  his  successors,  Leo  XIL  (1823-29),  Pica 


POPEDOM 


509 


Vlir.  (1829-30),  and  Gregory  XVir(1831-4G).  The 
adveisities  arising  out  of  the  Revolution  bad  proved  a 
balutary  discii)line.  Nepotism  ceased  to  disgrace  the  papal 
court.  Ecclesiasticisni  itself  assumed  another  tone  :  its 
morality  was  pure ;  its  zeal  in  the  performance  of  its 
duties  conspicuous.  In  France  there  arose  a  new  school, 
known  as  tlio  Parti  Pretre,  the  school  of  Chateaubriand, 
Lamennais,  and  Montalembert,  which  -rejected  the  ancient 
(Jallican  claims  and  principles,  and  ever3'where  inculcated 
loyalty  and  submission  to  Rome  as  the  first  duty  of  the 
Catholic.  In  Germany  neither  the  enlightened  .  and 
strenuous  efforts  of  Wessenberg  nor  the  statesmanlike 
policy  of  Metternich  could  produce  concerted  action  among 
the  several  states,  which  were  accordingly  eventually  re- 
duced to  the  necessity  of  each  making  separate  terms  with 
the  curia  on  an  independent  basis.  The  result,  in  nearly 
all  cases,  was  that,  in  reconstructing  its  ecclesiastical  or- 
ganization, and  endeavouring  at  the  same  time  to  estab- 
lish a  certain  modus  vivendi  in  its  diplomatic  relations  with 


List  of  the  Pontiffs  of  the  Roman  Church. 


Rome,  each  state  was  compelled  to  make  concessions  which 
largely  favoured  the  re-establishment  of  ultramontane  in- 
stitutions. The  signal  failure  of  Wessenberg,  in  his  ad- 
ministration of  the  see  of  Constance,  to  reintroduce  the 
principles  advocated  by  "Febronius,"  may  be  cited  as  one 
of  the  most  notable  instances  of  the  defeat  of  liberal 
principles.  In  the  Netherlands  and  in  Silesia  siniilar 
reactionary  movements  took  place.  In  England,  the 
Catholic  Emancipation  Act  (1829),  although  conceived'in 
a  spirit  of  conciliation,  proved,  in  the  embittered  rela- 
tions then  existing  with  Ireland,  of  little  avail,  and  in 
reality  only  imparted  fresh  strength  to  the  machina- 
tions of  the  ultramontane  party.  The  main  facts  in 
the  history  of  the  popedom  from  this  period  will  be 
found  under  the  head  of  Pros  IX.  (1846-77),  pp.  156-8, 
supra. 

The  following  list  taken  from  Gams  (Series  Episcoporum 
Romanx  Ecclesise)  gives  the  succession  of  the  pontiffs  as  ac- 
cepted by  the  Roman  Church  and  recorded  in  its  registers. 


Date  of  Election 
or  Consecration. 

Date  of  Death. 

C.41 

li.   TlilULS 

29  vl, 

e.  65-67 

C.67 

S.  Linus 

\  23  Ix, 

c.  79 

C.79 

S.  Cletus  (.AntncMlu) 

\  26  Iv, 

c.  91 

c91 

S.  Clemens  I. 

t  23  xl, 

c.  100 

f.lOO 

S.  Evorlslus 

t  26  X, 

c.  109 

C.109 

S.  Alexander 

t     Sv, 

c  119 

C.119 

S.  Slxtus  (Xk-Kw) 

t     6lv, 

c.  126 

!128 

S.  Telesphurufl 

t    SI, 

137 

c.iaa 

S.  Hyginus 

t  111, 

142 

c.i4a 

S.  Plus 

t  11  vll, 

c.  156 

1-.167 

S.  Anlcettu 

t  17  Iv, 

167 

168 

S.  Soter 

t  22  Iv, 

c.  176 

177 

S.  Eleutliems 

t  26  V, 

189 

C.190 

S.  victor  I. 

t  20  Iv. 

c.  202 

c.20a 

S.  Zephyilnlis 

t  26  viU, 

217 

218 

S.  Callxtus  I. 

t  Hi, 

222 

222 

S.  Uibanus  I. 

t  25  V, 

230 

230 

S.  Poiitlanuj 

ret.  28  Ix, 

235 

235  (21  xl,  Old.) 

S.  Antcrus 

t    3  1, 

236 

23e 

S.  Fabiimus 

t  20  1, 

250 

261  (ill,  el.) 

S.  Cotiiclius 

t  14  IX, 

263 

263  el. 

S.  Lucius 

t    6  III, 

254 

254  (12  V?,  el.) 

S.  Steph.nnus  I. 

t    2  vlil, 

257 

257  vlil 

S.  Slxtus  (.Xystut)  IL 

t    6  vlil, 

268 

259  '22  vll,  cl. 

S.  DInnysius 

t  26x11, 

268 

289  6  1,  cl. 

S.  Felix 

t  30x11, 

274 

275  c.  b  1 

S.  Eutychianus 

t    8x11, 

283 

283  17  xll 

S.  Gains 

t  22  Iv, 

296 

296  30  vl 

S.  Marcclllnas 

t  (!2&  x), 

304 

307  cl. 

S.  Marccllus 

t  16  1, 

300 

309  Iv,  el. 

S.  Euaeblns 

t  17  vlil, 

309 

310  2  vll 

S.  Melchlades  (MiUiadat 

t  HI, 

314 

314  31  1 

S.  Sylvester 

t  31  xll, 

335 

336  19  1 

S.  Marcus 

t     7  I. 

336 

337  6  11,  el. 

S.  Julius 

t  12  Iv, 

352 

352  22  T 

S.  Llberlus 

t  24  Ix, 

see 

366  ll 

S.  Damasus 

t  10  xll, 

384 

3S4  lU 

3.  SIricius 

t  26x1, 

398 

39  3ll-xU 

S.  Aoastastus  T. 

t  vtrt.  anno 

401-2 

402 

S.  Innoccntlus  I. 

t  12  Ul, 

417 

417  13  III.  cs. 

S.  Zoslmus 

t  26  xll. 

418 

41S  28  xll 

S.  Bonlfaclns  f. 

t    4lx. 

422 

422  c.  10  U 

S.  Cmlcsllnus  1. 

r  c.  26  vll, 

432 

432  31  vll 

S.  Slxtus  III. 

t  18  vlil, 

440 

440  vUl,  el. 

S.  Leo  I. 

t  10  xl. 

461 

461  12  xl,  c«. 

.1.  nilaras 

t  21  It 

468 

488  25  11,  cs. 

S.  SImpllcius 

t    2  111, 

483 

483 

S.  Felix  111. 

t  c.  28  II, 

492 

492  1  111,  ca. 

S.  Gelaslus 

t  19  xl, 

496 

498  c.  24  xl,  cs 

S.  Anastaalns  H. 

\  etifp.  19  xl, 

498 

408  22x1 

B.  Symmachus 

rt  arpull.  19  vll. 

514 

514  20  vll,  cs. 

S.  Hoi-nils'las 

t  lepiilt.     7  vill. 

623 

623  13  vill 

S.  Joannes  1. 

t  18  V, 

628 

B26  12  vll,  cs. 

S.  Felix  IV. 

t  mpel.  12  X  (?) 

530 

530  17  Ix,  el. 

llonlfaclus  II. 

t  tepel.  17  X, 

532 

532  31  xll,  cs. 

Joannes  11. 

t  icpel.  27  V, 

535 

636  3  VI,  cs. 

.S.  ARapctua  I. 

t  22  Iv, 

636 

630  8  VI.  cs. 

S.  Sllvcrlus,  txut 

Wpcl.  20  vl. 

C.538 

537  29  lli.cs. 

ViKlllus 

t     7  vl. 

S55 

555  p.  7  vl,  cs. 

Peloalus  T 

t     3  III. 

660 

680  14  vll,  cs. 

Joonnes  HL 

t  upel.  13  vll, 

673 

;    574  3  vl,  c. 

Ifenetllclns  I 

t  31  vU, 

678 

B78  27  XI,  cs. 

PeluBlus  II. 

t  ttptl.     6  11, 

690 

590  3  Ix,  cs. 

S.  UteRoiius  I. 

t  ,cptt.  12  111, 

604 

604  13  1x,cs. 

Sablnlanus 

t  22  U. 

606 

607  1»  11,  cs. 

Uonlfa'-lus  III. 

t  UpH.  12  xl. 

607 

808  16  Ix,  c<. 

S.  rionKnilua  IV. 

t  ttpel.  25  v. 

616 

616  19  X,  cs.  1 

S.  l)ens(lc(llt 

t  tfpef\    8  xl. 

618 

619  23  xll.  cs. 

nonlfmlus  V 

t  iiptl.  5S  X, 

625 

625  a  xl.  cs. 

Hnnnrlus 

t  trpil.  12  X, 

638 

640  2(1  V,  cs. 

.ScvetJnns 

t  tepcl.    2  vUl, 

640 

640  25  III,  cs. 

Joannes  IV. 

t  Kptt.  12  I, 

642 

642  24  xl,  cs. 

Thcodonis  1. 

t  lepel.  "  », 

649 

640  vl-Tll,  c>. 

S.  Mavtlnus 

t  txul  16  Ix, 

665 

eB4lnvlll,cs. 

S.  Euticnius  I. 

f  tfpet.    s  vl. 

867 

Da'e  of  Election 
or  Consecration. 


657  30  vll,  cs. 
672  11  Iv,  en. 
676  2  xl,  cs. 
678  vl-vil,  cs. 
682  17  viil.CB. 
684  26  vl,  cs. 

686  23  vll,  cs. 
688  21  X,  cs. 

687  x-xil.  cl. 
701  30  X,  cs. 
706  1  ill.  cs. 
708  18  1  (?) 
708  26  ill,  cs. 
715  19  V,  cs. 
731  11  il,  el. 
741  3  xll,  C8. 
752  ill,  el. 
752  er.  ill,  el. 
757  29  v,  CS. 

767  6  vll,  cs. 

768  7  VUl,  cs. 
772  1  il,  el. 
795  26  III,  el. 

816  vl,  cl. 

817  25  I,  c«. 
824  v-Tl 
827 

827  ez.  aim. 
844  1 

847  10  Iv.  es. 
856  29  Ix,  cs. 
853  24  Iv.  cs. 
867  14  xll,  cs. 
872  14  x.l 
882  c.  xll 

884  c.  V,  el. 

885  c.  Ix,  el. 
891  c.  Ix     • 
890  c.  23  v,  cl. 

896  a.  IIvl.lnu-us. 

897  vll,  cs. 

897  c.  xl. 

898  c.  vl,  cs. 
900  6-26  vll 
903  c.  vill 

903  c.  X 

904  29  1,  cs. 
911  c.  Ix,  cs. 

913  c.  xl,  cs. 

914  15  V,  cs. 
928  c.  Vll,  cs. 
029  c.  II,  cs. 
931  c.  Ul,  cs. 
938  a.  9  I,  cs. 
039a. 19vll. cons. 
942  a.  II  xl,  cons. 
946  c.  Iv 

956  c.  xl,  cs. 
963  4  xll,  cl. 

to*  T.  cl. 
65  I  X,  cs. 
973  19  I,  cs. 
074  X 
983  tz.  ann. 

986  1  Ix,  cs. 

996  3  T,  cs. 

990  in.  Iv,  cs. 
1003  13  vl,  cs. 
1003  25  xll.  cs. 
1009  p.  20  vl,  M. 
1012  22  vl,  cs. 
1024  24vl-I5\ll,cs 
1033  I,  cs. 
1046  I  V,  Inlr. 


Date  of  Death. 

S.  Vltallanus 

t  upeL  27  1, 

672 

AdeudatuB 

t  lepel.  16  vl. 

678 

Donus 

ttep.  11  Iv, 

678 

S.  Agatho 

t  Sep.  10  1, 

681 

S.  Leo  11. 

t  lep.    8  \i\. 

683 

S.  Benedlctos  II 

t  tep.    8  r. 

685 

Joannes  V. 

t     2  vill, 

686 

Conon 

t  tepil.  22  Ix, 

687 

S.  Serglus  I. 

tJe;>*f.    Six, 

701 

Joannes  VI. 

\  $epr!.  10-11  1. 

706 

Joannes  VII. 

t  sep.  18  X, 

707 

SIslnniua 

t<cp.     7.1, 

708 

ConstaJitlnus  f. 

t    8lv, 

715 

S.-GrcRorlus  II. 

♦  seprl.  11  11, 

731 

S.  Gregorlus  HI. 

t  si-p.  29  xl, 

741 

S.  Zachai'las 

t  tep.  15  III, 

762 

Stephanus  II. 

t  ez.        Ill, 

762 

StephanuB  III. 

fsep.  26  Iv, 

767 

S.  PauluB  I.      . 

t  28  vl. 

767 

ConstantlnuB  II, 

depof.     6  vlil, 

768 

Stephanus  IV. 

f     111, 

772 

lludrlanus  I. 

t  25  xll 

795 

S.Leo  111. 

t  tep.  12  vl. 

813 

Steplianus  V. 

t  24  1, 

817 

S.  Pusclialls  I. 

t  c.  14  t. 

824 

Engenlus  11. 

t       vill, 

827 

Valentlnus 

t  a.  aim. 

837 

Gregoilus  IV. 

t      1, 

844 

Serglus  II. 

t  27  1, 

847 

S.  Leo  IV. 

t  17  Ml, 

855 

Benedlctus  III. 

t    7  1v, 

658 

S.  Mcolausl. 

t  18X1, 

867 

Hadrianus  II. 

tf.     Ixll, 

873 

Joannes  Vlll. 

t  U  xll, 

883 

Mailnua  I. 

tC.          V, 

884 

H.iililannsIII. 

t  C.            Tili-ll 

886 

Stephanus  VL 

t  c.       Ix, 

891 

Fonnnsus 

o  t  23  V. 

896 

Bonifaclus  VI. 

t  c.     6  vl. 

896 

Steplianus  VI.  (VII.) 

amot.  t       vil, 

897 

Rotnanus 

t  c.        II, 

897 

Thcodorua  II. 

t  poil  20  rfirs 

Joannes  IX. 

t       vll. 

900 

Benedlctos  IV. 

^  t       vill. 

003 

Leo  V. 

U.       Ix, 

G03 

Chilstopliorus 

'amot.       i, 

004 

Serglus  III, 

ip.    4lx, 

911 

Ana^taBiuo 

t  c.       XI, 

013 

Lando 

U.       T, 

914 

Jounnes  X. 

t  in  carcere 

929 

Leo  VI. 

t  c.       II. 

930 

Stephanus  VIII. 

^  t   16  III, 

931 

Joannes  XI. 

t          1, 

93S 

Lcovi.  (VU.) 

t          Vll 

030 

Stephanus  IX. 

tc         X, 

643 

Marlnus  II. 

f  c.         !», 

946 

Agapetu.s  II. 

tc     8x1, 

966 

Joannes  XII.         lamot 

4  III,  063)  t  14  V,  , 

964 

Leo  VIII. 

f.        Ill 

966 

Benedict  V. 

tzut 

966 

Joannes  XMI. 

r   a  IX. 

073 

Benedict  VI.    ■ 

t  ce<lt.       vll. 

B74 

Bonedletus  \l\. 

t          X, 

688 

Joannes  XIV. 

t  OKil.   20  vlll. 

684 

Bonifaclus  VII 

t           Til, 

686 

Joannes  XV. 

f  in.        Iv, 

696 

Gregoilus  V. 

t        II. 

666 

Sylvester  II.  (Ofrbtrfl 
Joannes  XVII.  (Sfcs^j 

t  12  V, 

1003 

f     7  xll. 

IOCS 

Joannes  XVIII. 

t        VI, 

1006 

.Serglus  IV.        , 

t  IS-23  Tf, 

loia 

Benedict  VIU. 

t     7  It, 

1034 

Joannes  XIX. 

t        1, 

1033 

Benedlctus  l.\. 

•VltJIUK.       1   T. 

1046 

Grcftortna  VI. 

rtt^ffnal. 

10  III. 

10«« 

.mo 


p  o  r,—  p  0  p 


Djite  of  Election 
fir  Consecration. 

Date  of  Death. 

Date  of  Election 
or  Consecrution. 

Date  of  Dcatr.     ' 

1 346  -•-.  xii,  cs. 

Clemens  II. 

t    Ox, 

1047 

1389  2  xi 

ItOllifiK-ilU  IX. 

t    1  X, 

140-( 

1048  i;  vii,  cs. 

Datnasus  IL 

t    a  viii. 

1048 

1404  17  X 

Innocentius  VII. 

t    Bxi. 

140« 

1049  IJ  ii,  cs. 

S.  Leo  IX. 

t  19  iv. 

1054 

1406  2  xii 

Oicgoiius  XII.       (t  1419)  resianal.    4  vii, 

1410 

f  10o5  I'iiv,  cs. 

Victor  II. 

t  28  Iii, 

1057 

1409  26  vi 

AlL'..tander  V. 

t    8  V, 

1410 

,  1057  2  Yiii,  el. 

Steplinnu*  X. 

t  29  iii, 

1058 

1410  17 V 

Jcannes  XXIIL  (f  22  xl,  1419) 

ajHOf.  24  V, 

1415 

1053  -'i  iv,  tl. 

UciieJict  .\. 

expuli.  c.       i, . 

1069 

1417  U  xi 

.Mirtinus  V. 

t  20  ii. 

143  L 

1059  24  i,  C3. 

.Nicolaus  II.' 

t  J7  vii, 

1061 

1431  3  ill 

Eugenius  IV. 

t  23  ii. 

1447 

.1061  1  X,  el.  . 

.\lexaniier  If. 

t  21  iv. 

1073 

1447  6  iu 

Nicolaus  V. 

t  24  iii. 

1455 

1  1073  22  Ivr,  el. 

S.  Giegoiiua  VII.' 

t  25  V, 

1085 

1455  8iv 

Calixtus  III. 

t     6  viil. 

1453 

1088  24  T,  cl. 

Victor  III, 

t  lGi.x, 

1087 

1453  19  viil 

Pius  II. 

t  15  Viii, 

146 1 

1083  12  iii,  el. 

Urljunus  II. 

t  29  vii. 

1099 

1464  31  viii 

Paulm  II. 

t  28  vii. 

1471 

1099  13  viii,  el, 

Pasclialis  II. 

t211, 

1118 

1471  9  viii 

Sixtus  IV. 

t  12  viii. 

14S( 

1  1118  24  1.  el. 

Gelasius  II, 

t  29  i. 

1119 

1484  24  viii 

Innocentius  VIIL 

t  25  vii. 

1492 

,  1119  2  ii,  el.    . 

CalixtusII. 

t  13-14  xii 

1124 

1492  11  Vlil 

Alexander  VL 

t  18  viii, 

1503 

1  1124  1.5-10  xii,~el. 

HonoTius  II. 

t  14  ii. 

1130 

1503  22  ix 

Pius  III. 

t  18  X, 

1603 

1  1130  14  Ii.  el.  r 

Inniicentius  II 

t  24  Ix, 

1143 

1503  1  xi 

Julius  IL 

t  21  ii. 

1513 

1  1143  26  in,  el. 

Ccelestimis  II, 

t     8  iii. 

1144 

1513  15  iii 

Le.i  X. 

t    1  xii, 

1621 

1  1144  12  Iii,  el. 

Lucius  II. 

t  15  ii. 

1145 

1522  0  i 

lladri:inus  Vl, 

t  14  ix. 

1523 

j  1145  15  U,  el. 

Eu/^enius  III. 

t    8  vii. 

1153 

1523  19  xi 

Clemens  VU. 

t  25  ix. 

1534 

1153  12  vii.  cs. 

Ana^tasius  IV. 

t    3  xii. 

1154 

1534  13 X 

I'aulus  IIL 

t  10  xi. 

1649 

1154  4  xii,  el. 

Hadiianus  IV. 

t     lix. 

1169 

1550  8  u 

Julius  IU. 

t  23  ill, 

1656 

1159  7ix,  el. 

Alexander  111. 

t  aO  viii. 

1181 

1555  9  iv 

Marcellus  IL 

•  30  iv. 

1555 

1181  I  Ix 

Lucius  III. 

t  25  xi, 

1185 

1555  23  T 

Paulns  IV. 

i  18  viil, 

1559 

1185  25  si 

Urbanos  111. 

t  20  X. 

1187 

1559  25  XU 

Pius  IV. 

\    9  xii, 

1565 

1187  21  X,  d. 

Giegorius  VIII. 

t  17  ill, 

1137 

1569  17  1,  cs. 

S.  Pius  V. 

t    1  V, 

1672 

1187  19  Xii,  el. 

Clemens  III. 

t        iii, 

1191 

1572  26  V 

Gregoriiis  XIIL 

t  10  iv. 

1585 

1191  30  Iii,  el. 

Ccele^tiiius  III. 

t    8  1, 

1198 

1585  1  V,  cs. 

Sixtus  V. 

t  27  vlil, 
^  27  ix, 

1690 

1198  8  1 

Innocentius  III. 

t  16  vii. 

1216 

1590  15  ix,  el. 

Urbanus  VII. 

1590 

1216  19  Til 

Honorius  III. 

t  18  iii. 

1227 

1590  5  xii 

Gregorins  .\IV, 

I  15  X, 

1691 

1227  19  iii 

Gregovius  I.X. 

t  21  viii, 

1241 

1591  29  X,  eL 

Innocentius  IX. 

t  30  Xii, 

1591 

1241  X 

Ccelestimis  IV. 

t  17-18  xi, 

1241 

1592  30  i,  el. 

Clemens  VIU. 

\    5  iir. 

1606 

1243  35  Tt 

Innocentius  IV 

t  13  xii. 

1254 

1605  1  iv,  el. 

Leo  XI. 

\  27  iv. 

1606 

1254  25  sil 

Alexaniisv  IV. 

t  25  T, 

1261 

1605  16  V,  el. 

Paulus  V. 

t  28  i, 

1621 

1S61  29  vUl 

Urbanus  IV. 

t     2x, 

1264 

1621  9  ii 

Gregorius  XV. 

\    8  vii. 

1623 

1235  5  ii 

Clemens  IV. 

t  29  xl. 

1268 

1623  6  viu,  el. 

Urbanus  VIIL 

t  29  vii, 

1644 

1271 1 ix 

Gregorius  X. 

t  111, 

1276 

1644  15  ix 

Innqcentius  X. 

t    7  I, 

,1655 

1276  23  il,  ct. 

Innocentius  V. 

t  22  vi, 

1276 

1655  7  iv 

-Vlcxander  VIL 

t  22  V, 

(1667 

IQ'/e  12  vii,  el. 

Hadrianus  V. 

t  17  vlil. 

1276 

1667  20  vl 

Clemens  IX. 

\    9  xii, 

1669 

1376  13 m 

Joannes  XXI. 

t  1ST, 

1277 

1670  29  iv 

Clemens  X. 

►  22  vii. 

1676 

1277  25  xi 

Nicolaus  III. 

t  22  viil. 

1280 

1676  21  Ix 

Innocentius  XI. 

\  12  vii, 

1689 

1281  22  ii 

Martinus  iV. 

t  28  iii, 

1285 

1689  6  X 

Alexander  VIII. 

t    Iii, 

1691 

1285  2  iv 

Honorius  IV. 

t    3  iv. 

1287 

1691  12  vii 

Innocentius  XII. 

t  27  ix. 

1700 

1288  15  il 

Nicolaus  IV. 

t    4iv, 

12B2 

1700  23  xi,  eL 

Clemens  XI. 

t  19  iii, 

1721 

13S4  5  vii 

S.  Cojlestinus  V. 

(t  19  V.  1296)  1 «.  13  xU, 

1294 

1721  8  V 

Innocentius  XIIL 

t    7  ill. 

1724 

1294  24  xit 

Boiiifacius  VIII. 

t  Ux, 

1303 

1724  29  V 

lienedictu.)  XIU, 

t  21  il, 

1730 

1303  22  .X 

Beuedictus  XI. 

t     7  vii. 

1304 

1730  12  vii 

Clemens  XII. 

t    6ii, 

1740 

1305  5  vi 

Clemens  V. 

t  20  iv. 

1314 

1740  17  viil 

Benedictus  XIV, 

t    3r, 

1768 

1318  7  vrii 

Joannes  XXII. 

t    4  xii. 

3  334 

1758  6  vU 

Clemens  XIII. 

t    2  11, 

1769 

1334  20  xii 

Benediclus  .\II. 

t  25  iv. 

1342 

1769  19  V 

Clemens  XIV. 

t  22  ix. 

1774 

1342  7  V,  el. 

Cle.-ncns  VI. 

t     e  xii. 

1362 

1775  1511 

Pius  VL 

t  29  vlil, 

1799 

1352  18  xU 

Innt.centius  VI. 

t  12  ix. 

1362 

1800  14  iii 

Pius  VIL 

t  20  viU, 

1823 

1362  28  X 

Urba.ius  V. 

t  19  xii, 

1370 

1823  23  ix 

Leo  XII. 

t  10  ii. 

1829 

1370  30  xii 

Giegoiius  XI. 

t  37  iii. 

1378 

1829  31  iii 

Pius  VIIL 

t  30  xi, 

1830 

1378  8  iv 

Urbanus  VI. 

t  15  X, 

1389 

18312  il 

Gregoi-ius  XVI. 

t    1  vi, 

1846 

[1378  20  Ix 

Clemens  VII. 

antipapn  Arm.  t  16  i.x. 

1394 

1846  16  vl,  cL 

Pius  I.X. 

t    Svi, 

1877 

1  1394  28  ix 

Benedict  XIII.   (aniol.  26  vii)  1417  t  23  v. 

1423] 

1877  vi,  el. 

Leo  XIIL 

Authorities. — The  great  series  known  as  the  Annales  Ecdesiastici 
of  Baronius,  continued  by  KajTialdus,  42  vols.  fol.  (1738-56), 
represents  a  laborious  but  uncritical  collection  of  materials  from 
ihe  earliest  times  down  to  the  Keformation.  The  continuation  by 
A.  Theiner,  embracing  the  period  1572-85,  is  of  higher  value.  In 
i  critical  investigation  of  the  original  .sdurces,  the  great  work  of  F. 
Maa-ssen,  Geschichte  der  Quellen  uiid  der  Literatur  des  canonischen 
Rechts  ill  Abendlande  (1871  sq.)  is  icdisijensable.  Milman's  History 
of  Latin  Christianity  continues  to  be  the  fullest  and  most  impartial 
source  of  information  in  English  from  the  1st  to  the  15th  century; 
this  may  be  supplemented  by  Gregorovius,  Geschichte  der  Stadl  Rom 
in  Mittclaller  vom  Zlcn  bis  \Uen  Jahrhundert,  8  vols.  (1859-72), 
which  throws  considerable  light  on  the  political  and  social  relations 
of  the  city  and  the  papal  States  ;  and  also  by  Thomas  Greenwood, 
Cathedra  Petri,  a  political  History  of  tlie  great  Latin  Patriarchate, 
6  vols.  (1856-65).  This  latter  work,  although  published  subse- 
quently to  the  first  edition  of  Milman,  was  written  before  it,  and, 
according  to  the  author,  without  reference  to  its  pages  ;  it  deserves 
the  praise  of  being,  at  least  in  the  earlier  volumes,  a  piece  of  learned 
nud  laborious  research  on  the  part  of  a  layman  of  considerable  ac- 
Huirements  and  candid  disposition.  In  a  comparison  of  the  views 
and  treatment  of  the  two  foregoing  work."?,  Wm.  von  Giesebrecht's 
Geschichte  der  deutschen  Kaiser::cit,  5  vols.  (5th  ed.  now  publishing), 
will  be  found  nseful.  A  History  of  the  Papacy  during  ihe  Period 
of  the  Reformation,  by  Canon  Creighton  (only  partly  published), 
jiromises  to  furnish  a  valuable  account  of  this  period,  derived  from 
the  original  sources.  From  the  Reformation,  Leopold  von  Kanke, 
Die  romischen  Pdpste  in  den  Ictzten  vier  Jahrhundcrtcn,  3  vols.  (7th 
cd.,  1878),  is  the  classic  work.  A  translation  of  the  first  edition 
into  English  by  Sarah  Austin  appeared  in  1840,  and  has  been  fre- 
']uently  reprinted.  H.  Gefi'cken,  Church  and  State,  translated  by 
E.  F.  Taylor,  2  vols.  (1877),  supplies  additional  illustration,  more 
especially  of  the  relations  in  Germany.  Nippold,  Handiuch  der 
neiicslen  Kirchengesddchte,  2  vols.  (1880-83),  traces  the  subject 
from  the  Ueformation  to  the  present  time.  The  difiBculties  attach- 
ing to  the  first  commencement,  the  earlier  chronology,  and  the 
episcopal  succession  are  elaborately  treated  by  R.  A.  Lipsius,  Die 
Quellen  der  romischen  Petrussage  (1872),  and  Chronologic  der  r'&mi- 
tchcn  Dischofe  his  zur  Mittc  des  vicrtcn  Jahrhundorta  (1869).     For 


the  abstract  treatment  of  the  subject,  Thomassin,  Vetiis  et  nova 
Ecclesise  IHsciplina  (1773),  supplies  the  views  of  the  moderate 
adherent  of  tlie  Galilean  Church  as  opposed  to  the  ultramontenists; 
while  the  classic  though  somewhat  antiquated  discussion  by 
Bingham  in  his  Antiquities  of  the  Christian  Church  (1st  ed.,  1708- 
22)  gives  the  corresponding  view'of  the  moderate  Anglican.  The 
treatise  of  R.  Baxmann,  Die  Politik  der  Papste,  von  Gregor  I.  bis 
auf  Gregor  VIL,  2  vols.  (1868-69),  is  of  considerable  merit.  The 
Rcgesta  Ponlificum  RoTnanornm,  edited  by  Jaffe  and  Potthast,  3 
vols.,  gives  a  kind  of  catalogue  raisonni  of  the  pontifical>briefs, 
letters,  and  encycHcals  from  67  to  130,4  a.d.  Of  the  letters  them- 
selves no  complete  collection  has  appcWcd  ;  the  volume,  edited  by 
Coustaut  (1796)  comes  down  only  to  437,  the  more  recent  collection 
by  Thiel  embraces  only  the  period  461-523.  The  Bulls  of  Innocent 
IV.  and  Benedict  XL  have  recently  been  edited  from  the  original 
MSS.  in  the  Vatican,  the  former  by  M.  tlie  Berger,  the  latter  by 
M.  Grandjean.  For  information  on  technical'  points  involving  the 
relations  of  the  popedom  to  the  canon  law  and  the -church  at  large, 
see  J.  F.  von  Schultz,  Lehrhuch  des  katholischen  Kirchenreehts,  2 
vols.  (1856-60).  The  manual- by  F.  Walter,  Lehrhuch  des  Kirchen- 
reehts alter  christlichen  Confessionen  [litti  ed.,  1871),  of  which  the 
first  edition  appeared  iu  1822,  illustrates  the  departure  from  the 
older  ecclesiastical  code  which  took  its  rise  in  the  anti-I^roni«ii 
movement.  The  abuses  that  arose  out  of  the  papal  nepotism  are 
depicted  by  Gregorio  Leti  (a  convert  from  Romanism  in  the  17tli 
century)  in  a  well-known  volume, — "  U  Nipotismo  di  Roma,  or  the 
History  of  the  Pope's  Nephews  from  the  lime  of  Sixtus  IV.  to  Ihe 
•death  of  Alexander  VIL,  in  two  parts  :  written  originally  in  Italian 
and  Englished  by  W.  A.,  London,  1669."  The  tombs  of  the  pontiffs 
and  the  associations  they  recall  are  admirably  described  by  Gregoi-o- 
vius  in  a  little  volume  entitled  Die  Grabdenkmdler  der  Piipslc  |2d 
ed.,  1881).  (J.  B.  M.) 

POPLAE.  (Populus),  the  name  of  a  small  group  of 
arborescent  amentaceous  plants,  belonging  to  the  order 
Salicacex.  The  catkins  of  the  poplars  difier  from  those  of 
the  nearly  allied  willows  in  the  presence  of  a  rudimentary 
perianth,  of  obliquely  cuji-shaped  form,  within  the  toothed 


F  O  P  L  A  R 


611 


LrActeal  scales ;  tht  malt;  flowers  contain  from  eight  to 
thirty  stameus ;  the  fertile  bear  a  one-celled  (nearly  divided) 
ovary,  surmounted  by  the  deeply  cleft  stigmas  ;  the  two- 
valved  capsule  contains  several  seeds,  each  furnished  with 
a  long  tuft  of  silky  or  cotton-like  hairs.  The  leaves  are 
broader  than  in  most  willows,  and  are  generally  either 
deltoid  or  ovate  in  shape,  often  cordate  at  the  base,  and 
frequently  with  slender  petioles  vertically  flattened.  Many 
of  the  species  attain  a  large  size,  and  all  are  of  very  rapid 
growth.  The  poplars  are  almost  entirely  confined  to  the 
north  temperate  zone,  but  a  few  approach  or  even  pass  its 
northern  limit,  and  they  are  widely  distributed  within  that 
area ;  they  show,  like  the  willows,  a  partiality  for  moist 
ground,  and  often  line  the  river-sides  in  otherwise  treeless 
districts.  The  number  of  species  cannot  be  very  accurately 
defined, — several,  usually  regarded  as  distinct,  being  prob- 
ably merely  variable  forms  of  the  same  type.  All  3rield 
a  soft  easily-worked  timber,  which,  though  very  perishable 
when  exposed  to  weather,  possesses  sufficient  durability 
when  kept  dry  to  give  the  trees  a  certain  economic  value. 

Of  the  European  kinds,  one  of  the  most  important  and 
best  marked  forms  is  the  White  Poplar  or  Abele,  F.  alba,  a 
tree  of  large  size,  with  rounded  spreading  head  and  curved 
branches,  which,  like  the  trunk,  are  covered  with  a  grey- 
ish-white bark,  becoming  •  much  furrowed  on  old  stems. 
The  leaves  are  ovate  or  nearly  round  in  general  outline, 
but  with  deeply  waved,  more  or  less  lobed  and  indented 
margins  and  cordate  base ;  the  upper  side  is  of  a  dark 
green  tint,  but  the  lowei  surface  is  clothed  with  a  dense 
■white  down,  which  likewise  covers  the  young  shoots, — 
giving,  v/ith  the  bark,  a  hoary  aspcct_  to  the  whole  tree. 
As  in  all  poplars,  the  catkins  expand  in  early  spring,  long 
before  the  leaves  unfold ;  the  ovaries  bear  four  linear 
stigma  lobes ;  the  capsules  ripen  in  May.  A  nearly  related 
form,  which  may  be  regarded  as  a  sub-species,  F.  canescens, 
the  Grey  Poplar  of  the  nurseryman,  is  distinguishedfrom 
ihe  true  abele  by  its  smaller,  less  deeply  cut  leaves,  Svhich 
are  grey  on  the  upper  side,  but  not  so  hoary  beneath  as 
those  of  F.  alba ;  the  pistil  has  eight  stigma  lobes.  Both 
trees  occasionally  attain  a  height  of  90  feet  or  more,  but 
rarely  continue  to  form  sound  timber  beyond  the  first  half- 
century  of  growth,  though  the  trunk  will  sometimes  endure 
for  a  hundred  »,nd  fifty  years.  The  wood  is  very  white, 
and,  from  its  soft  and  even  grain,  is  employed  by  turners 
and  toy-makers,  while,  being  tough  and  little  liable  to 
split,  it  is  also  serviceable  for  the  construction  of  packing 
cases,  the  lining  of  carts  and  waggons,  and  many  similar 
purposes ;  when  thoroughly  seasoned  it  makes  good  flooring 
planks,  but  shrinks  much  in  drying,  weighing  about  58  Vb 
per  cubic  foot  when  green,  but  only  33.^  ft>  when  dry. 
The  white  poplar  is  an  ornamental  tree,  "from  its  grace- 
ful though  somewhat  irregular  growth,  and  its  dense  hoary 
foliage ;  it  has,  however,  the  disadvantage  of  throwing  up 
numerous  suckers  for  some  yards  around  the  trunk. 

The  grey  and  white  poplars  are  usually  multiplied  by 
long  cuttings ;  the  growth  is  so  rapid  in  a  moist  loamy 
soil  that,  according  to  Loudon,  cuttings  9  feet  in  length, 
planted  beside  a  stream,  formed  in  twelve  years  trunks 
10  inches  in  diameter.  Both  these  allied  forms  occur 
throughout  central  and  southern  Europe,  but,  though  now 
abundant  in  England,  it  is  doubtful  whether  they  are 
there  indigenous.  F.  alba  suffers  much  from  the  ravages 
of  wood-eating  larvie,  and  also  from  fungoid  growths, 
•specially  where  the  branches  have  been  removed  by  prun- 
ing or  accident;  trunks  have  occasionally  acquired  a 
diameter  of  3  feet  and  upwards. 

The  aspens  form  an  important  section,  of  which  the 
Common  Aspen  of  Europe,  F.  tremula,  may  be  taken  as 
tJie  type, — a  tall  fast-growing  tree  v/ith  rather  slender 
tnmk,  and  grey  bark  becoming  rugged  when  old  ;   the 


orbicular  leaves,  toothed  on  the  margin,  and  slightly 
downy  when  young,  are  afterwards  smooth,  dark-green  on 
the  upper  and  greyish-green  on  the  lower  surface ;  the 
long  slender  petioles,  much  flattened  towards  the  outer 
end,  allow  of  free  lateral  motion  by  the  slightest  breeze, 
giving  the  foliage  its  well-known  tremulous  character. 

The  aspen  is  an  abundant  tree  in  the  northern  parts 
of  Britain,  even  as  far  as  Sutherland,  and  is, occasionally 
found  in  the  coppices  of  the  southern  counties,  but  in 
these  latter  habitats  seldom  reaches  any  large  size ; 
throughout  northern  Europe  it  abounds  in  the  forests, — in 
Lapland  flourishing  even  in  70°  N.  lat.,  while  in  Siberia  its 
range  extends  to  the  Arctic  Circle  ;  in  Norway  its  upper 
limit  is  said  to  coincide  with  that  of  the  pine ;  trees  exist 
near  the  western  coast  having  stems  15  feet  in  circumfer- 
ence. The  wood  of  the  aspen  is  very  light  and  soft, 
though  tough ;  it  is  employed  by  coopers,  chiefly  for  pails 
and  herring-casks ;  it  is  also  made  into  butchers'  trays, 
pack-saddles,  and  various  articles  for  which  its  lightness 
recommends  it ;  sabots  are  also  made  of  it  in  France,  and 
in  mediaeval  days  it  was  valued  for  arrows,  especially  for 
those  used  in  target  practice;  the  bark  is  used  for  tanning 
in  northern  countries  ;  cattle  and  deer  browse  greedily  on 
the  young  shoots  and  abundant  suckers.  Aspen  wood 
makes  but  indifferent  fuel,  but  charcoal  prepared  from  it 
is  light  and  friable,  and  has  been  employed  in  gunpowder 
manufacture.  The  powdered  bark  is  sometimes  given  to 
horses  as  a  vermifuge ;  it  possesses  likewise  tonic  and 
febrifugal  properties,  containing  a  considerable  amount  of 
salicin.  The  aspen  is  readily  propagated  either  by  cat- 
tings  or  suckers,  but  has  been  but  little  planted  of  late 
years  in  Britain.  P.  trepida,  or  tremuloidts,  is  closely 
allied  to  the  European  aspen,  being  chiefly  distinguished 
by  its  more  pointed  leaves  ;  it  is  a  native  of  most  parts  of 
Canada  and  the  United  States,  extending  northwards  as 
far  as  Great  Slave  Lake.  The  American  Aspen  is  a 
smaller  tree  than  F.  tremula,  seldom  rising  to  a  greater 
height  than  30  feet,  and  racely  forming  timber  of  any 
value  ;  the  wood  burns  better  in  the  green  state  than  that  of 
most  trees;  and  is  often  used  by  the  hunters  of  the  north- 
west as  fuel;  split  into  thin  layers,  it  was  formerly  emjiloycd 
in  the  States  for  bonnet  and  hat  making ;  the  bark  is  of  some 
value  as  a  tonic  and  febrifuge.  P.  grandidcntaia,  the 
Large-leaved  American  Aspen,  is  a  tree  of  larger  growth, 
with  ovate  or  roundish  leaves  deeply  and  irregularly  serrated 
on  the  margin.  The  wood  is  strong,  and  considered  durable 
for  indoor  use ;  it  is  also  employed  in  some  districts  for 
fences ;  split  into  slender  strips,  it  has  been  applied  to  the 
manufacture  of  hats,  like  that  of  the  Canadian  aspen. 

Some  of  the  most  valuable  trees  of  the  genus  belong  to 
a  section  remarkable  for  the  elongation  of  the  fertile 
catkins,  which  become  lax  towards  maturity.  P.  niyra, 
the  Black  Poplar,  one  of  the  most  important  of  this  group, 
is  a  tree  of  largo  growth,  with  dark  deeply-furrowed  bark 
on  the  trunk,  and  ash-coloured  branches ;  the  smooth 
deltoid  leaves,  serrated  regularly  on  the  margin,  are  of  the 
deep  green  tint  which  has  given  name  to  the  tree  ;  the 
petioles,  slightly  compressed,  are  only  about  half  tlio 
length  of  the  leaves.  The  black  poplar  is  common  in 
central  and  southern  Europe  and  in  some  of  the  adjacent 
parts  of  Asia,  but,  though  abundantly  planted  in  Britain, 
is  probably  not  there  indigenous.  The  wood  b  of  a 
yellowish  tint.  In  former  days  this  was  the  prevalent 
po|)lar  in  Britain,  and  the  timber  was  employed  for  tlio 
purposes  to  which  that  of  other  species  is  applied,  but 
has  boon  superseded  by  F.  monili/ent  and  its  varieties  ;  it 
probably  furnished  the  poi)lar-wood  of  the  lioman.H,  which, 
from  its  lightness  and  soft  tough  grain,  was  in  esteem  for 
shield-making;  in  continental  Europe  it  is  still  in  some 
rcc^ucst;  the  bark,"  in  Kussia,  is  used  for  tanning  IcalliT. 


512 


P  0  P  — P  0  P 


■while  in  Kamchatka  it  is  sometimes  ground  up  and  mixed 
with  meal ;  the  gum  secreted  by  the  buds  was  employed 
by  the  old  herbalists  for  various  medicinal  purposes,  but 
is  probably  nearly  inert ;  the  cotton-like  down  of  the  seed 
has  been_  converted  into  a  kind  of  vegetable  felt,  and  has 
also  been  used  in  paper-making.  A  closely  related  form 
is  the  well-known  Lombardy  Poplar,  P.  fastigiata,  remark-' 
able  for  its  tall  cypress-like  sliape,  caused  by  the  nearly 
vertical  growth  of  the  branches.  Probably  a  mere  variety 
of  the  black  poplar,  its  native  land  appears  to  have  been 
Persia  or  some  neighbouring  country;  it  was  unknown  in 
Italy  in  the  days  of  Pliny,  while  from  remote  times  it  has 
been  an  inhabitant  of  Kashmir,  the  Punjab,  and  Persia, 
where  it  is  often  planted  along  roadsides  for  the  purpose 
of  shade ;  it  was  probably  brought  from  these  countries  to 
southern  Europe,  and  derives  its  popular  name  from  its 
abundance  along  the  banks  of  the  Po  and  other  rivers  of 
Lombardy,  where  it  is  said  now  to  spring  up  naturally 
from  seed,  like  the  indigenous  black  poplar.-  It  was 
introduced  into  France  in  1749,  and  appears  to  have  been 
grown  in  Germany  and  Britain  soon  after  the  middle  of 
the  last  century,  if  not  earlier.  The  Lombardy  poplar  is 
valuable  chiefly  as  an  ornamental  tree,  its  timber  being  of 
very  inferior  quality  ;  its  tall  erect  growth  renders  it  use- 
ful to  the  landscape-gardener  as  a  relief  to  the  rounded 
forms  of  other  trees,  or  in  contrast  to  the  horizontal  lines 
of  the  lake  or  river-bank  where  it  delights  to  grow.  In 
Lombardy  and  France  tall  hedges  are  sometimes  formed 
of  this  poplar  for  shelter  or  shade,  while  in  the  suburban 
parks  of  Britain  it  is  serviceable  as  a  screen  for  hiding 
buildings  or  other  unsightly  objects  from  view  ;  its  growth 
is  extremely  rapid,  and  it  often  attains  a  height  of  100 
feet  and  upwards,'  while  from  70  to  80  feet  is  an  ordinary 
size  in  favourable  situations. 

P.  canadensis,  tlie  "Cotton-wood"  of  the  western  prairies,  and 
its  varieties  are  perhaps  the  most  useful  trees  of  the  genus,  often 
forming  almost  the  only  arborescent  vegetation  on  the  great 
American  pl.iins.  The  P.  canadensis  of  Micliaux,  which  may  be 
regarded  as  the  type  of  this  croup,  is  a  tree  of  rather  large  growth, 
with  rugged  grey  trunk,  and  with  the  shoots  or  young  branches 
more  or  less  angular  ;  the  glossy  deltoid  leaves  are  sharply  pointed, 
somewhat  cordate  at  the  base,  and  with  flattened  petioles  ;  the 
fertile  catkins  ripen  about  the  middle  of  June,  when  their  opening 
capsules  discharge  the  cottony  seeds  which  have  given  the  tree  its 
common  western  name  ;  in  New  England  it  is  sometimes  called  the 
'"  River  Poplar."  The  cotton-wood  timber,  though  soft  and  perish- 
able, is  of  value  in  its  prairie  habitats,  where  it  is  frequently  the 
only  available  wood  either  for  carpentry  or  fuel ;  it  has  been  planted 
to  a  considerable  extent  in  some  parts  of  Europe,  but  in  England 
A  kindred  form,  P.  monilifera,  is  generally  preferred  from  its  larger 
tnd  njore  rapid  growth.  In  this  well-known  variety  the  young 
shoots  are  but  slightly  angled,  and  the  branches  in  the  second  year 
become  round ;  the  deltoid  short-pointed  leaves  are  nsually  straight 
or  even  rounded  at  the  base,  but  sometimes  are  slightly  cordate; 
the  capsules  ripen  in  Britain  about  the  middle  of  May.  This  tree 
is  of  extremely  rapid  growth,  and  has  been  known  to  attain  a  height 
of  70  feet  in  sixteen  years  ;  the  trunk  occasionally  acquires  a  dia- 
njeter  of  from  3  to  5  feet,  and,  according  to  Emerson,  a  tree  near 
New  Ashford,  Massachusetts,  measured  20  feet  5  inches  in  circum- 
ference ;  it  succeeds  best  in  deep  loamy  soil,  but  will  flourish  in  nearly 
»ny  moist  but  well-drained  situation.  The  timber  is  much  used 
in  some  rural  districts  for  flooring,  and  is  durable  for  indoor  pur- 
poses when  prqtected  from  dry-rot ;  it  hjs,  like  most  poplar  woods, 
the  property  of  resisting  fire  better  than  other  timber.  The  native 
country  of  this  sub-species  has  been  much  disputed;  but,  though 
sfill  known  in  many  British  nurseries  as  the  "  Black  Italian  Pop- 
lar," it  is  now  well  ascertained  to  be  an  indigenous  tree  in  many 
parts  of  Canada  and  the  States,  and  is  probably  a  mere  variety  of 
P.  canadensis  ;  it  seems  to  have  been  'first  brought  to  England  from 
Canada  in  1772.  In  America  it  seldom  attains  the  large  size  it 
often  acquires  in  England,  and  it  is  there  of  less  rapid  growth  than 
the  prevailing  form  of  the' western  plains;  the  name  of  "cotton- 
wood"  is  locally  given  to  other  species.  P.  macrophylla  or  candi- 
cans,  commonly  known  as  the  Ontario  Poplar,  is  remarkable  for 
its  very  large  heart-shaped  leaves,  sometimes  10  inches  long  ;  it  is 
fnnnd  in  New  England  and  the  milder  parts  of  Canada,  and  is 
freijuently  planted  in  Britain  ;  its  growtli  ia  extremely  rapid  in 
Otoist  land ;  the  buds  are  covured  with  a  balsamic  secrctioQ.    Tho 


true  Balaam  Poplar,  or  Tacamahac,  P.  lalsamifcra,  abundant  in 
most  parts  of  Canada  and  the  northern  States,  is  a  tree  of  rafber 
large  growth,  often  of  somewhat  fastigiate  habit,  with  round  shoots 
and  oblong-ovate  sharp-pointed  leaves,  the  base  never  cordate,  the 
petioles  round,  and  the  disk  deep  glossy  green  above  but  somewhat 
downy  below.  This  tree,  the  "Hard "  of  the  Canadian  voyagcur, 
abounds  on  many  of  the  river  sides  of  the  north-western  plains  ; 
it  occurs  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Great  Slave  Lake  and  along 
the  Mackenzie  river,  and  forms  much  of  the  drift-wood  of  the 
Arctic  coast.  In  these  northern  habitats  it  attains  a  large  size  ; 
the  wood  is  very  soft ;  the  buds  yield  a  gum-like  balsam,  from 
which  the  common  name  is  derived  ;  considered  valuable  as  an 
antiscorbutic,  this  is  said  also  to  have  diuretic  properties ;  it  isaa 
formerly  imported  into  Europe  in  small  quantities,  under  the  nanje 
of  "  baume  focot,"  being  scraped  off  in  the  spring  and  put  into 
shells.  This  balsam  give?  the  tree  a  fragrant  odour  when  the  leaves 
are  unfolding.  The  tree  grows  well  in  Britain,  and  acquires  occasion- 
ally a  considerable  size.  A  very  closely  allied  variety  abounds  in 
Siberia  and  Dauria,  chiefly  distinguished  by  its  wider  leav.'s,  rounded 
growth,  and  the  darker  tint  of  its  wood  ;  a  kind  of  wine,  esteemed 
as  a  diuretic,  is  prepared  in  Siberia  from  the  buds.  Its  fragrant 
shoots  and  the  fine  yellow  green  of  the  young  leaves  recommend  it 
to  the  ornamental  planter.  It  is  said  by  Aiton  to  have  been  intro- 
duced into  Britain  about  the  end  of  the  17th  century.    (C.  P.  J.) 

POPLIN,  or  Tahinet,  is  a  mixed  textile  fabric  consist- 
ing of  a  silk  warp  with  a  weft  of  worsted  yarn.  As  the 
weft  is  in  the  form  of  a  stout  cord,  the  fabric  has  a  ridged 
structure,  like  rep,  which  gives  depth  and  softness  to  the 
lustre  of  the  silky  surface.  Poplins  are  used  for  dress 
purposes,  and  for  rich  upholstery  work.  The  manufacture 
is  of  French  origin  ;  but  it  was  brought  to  England  by  the 
Huguenots,  and  has  long  been  specially  associated  with 
Ireland.  The  French  manufacturers  distinguish  between 
popelines  unies  or  plain  poplins  and  popelines  h  dispositions 
or  Ecossaises,  equivalent  to  Scotch  tartans,  in  both  of  which 
a  large  trade  is  done  with  the  United  States  from  Lyons. 

POPOCATEPETL  (Aztec  popocani,  "smoking,"  tepetl, 
"mountain"),  a  burning  mountain  in  Jlexico,  in  18°  59' 
47"  N.  lat.  and  98°  33'  1"  W.  long.,  which  along  with  the 
neighbouring  and  somewhat  lower  summit  of  Ixtaccihuatl 
(Aztec  "White  Woman")  forms  the  south-eastern  limit  of 
the  great  valley  in  which  the  capital  is  built.  As  it  lies 
in  the  province  of  Puebla,  and  is  the  great  feature  in  the 
view  from  that  city,  it  is  also  called  the  Puebla  Volcano. 
With  the  single  exception  of  Mount  Elias  in  Alaska, 
Popocatepetl  appears  to  be  the  highest  peak  in  North 
America,  rising  as  it  does  in  a  regular  snow-covered  cone 
to  an  altitude  of  17,853  feet.  The  main  mass  of  the 
mountain  consists  of  andesite,  but  porphyry,  obsidian, 
trachyte,  basalt,  and  other  similar  rocks  are  also  repre- 
sented. Between  the  pine  forest  (Pinus  occiden(alis), 
which  ceases  at  a  height  of  12,544  feet,  and  the  snow 
limit,  14,960  feet,  there  lies  a  tract  of  loose  sand,  largely 
composed  of  grains  of  sulphur,  which  renders  the  ascent 
tedious  and  at  times  dangerous,  though  the  first  1600  feet 
can  be  accomplished  on  horseback.  On  the  summit  is  an 
enormous  crater  measuring  5000. feet  across  and  with  a 
sheer  depth  of  2000  feet.  The  vapours  rising  from  the 
solfataras,  the  mixture  of  sulphur  yellow  and  ash  grey  in 
the  caldron,  the  dazzling  snow  on  the  edges  of  the  crater 
walls,  and  the  deep  blue  of  the  sky  above  produce  the 
most  indescribable  effects  of  colour.  The  highest  point  of 
the  mountain  is  a  softly  rounded  eminence  about  30  feet 
only  from  the  rim.  Sulphur  from  the  crater  is  regularly 
worked  by  a  number  of  Indians  who  have  their  huts  at 
the  foot  of  the  cone,  at  a  height  of  12,000  feet.  The 
paterial  is  shot  down  a  slide  for  a  distance  of  between 
2000  and  3000  feet,  and  the  workmen  also  avail  them- 
selves of  this  means  of  descent.  At  the  foot  of  the -east 
slope  of  Popocatepetl  stretches  a  vast  lava  field — the 
Malpays  of  Atlachayacatl,  which  gives  birth  to  the  Eio 
Atlaco.  According  to  Humboldt,  it  rises  from  60  to  80 
feet  above  the  plain,  and  extends  18,000  feet  from  east  to 
west  with  a  breadth  of  6000  feet.     The  date  of  its  formation 


P  0  P  — P  0  P 


513 


must  be  of  great  antiquity.  There  have  been  only  two  or 
three  moderate  eruptions  during  the  last  300  years,  though 
smoke  continually  issues  from  the  crater,  and  from  time  to 
time  vast  showers  of  cinders  and  stones  are  shot  up. 

Ill  1519  Cortes  sent  a  paity  of  ten  men  to  climb  a  smoking 
mountain  which  was  evidently  Popocatepetl ;  and  in  1522  Francisco 
Montafio  not  only  reached  the  summit  but  had  liiniself  let  down 
into  the  crater  a  depth  of  400  or  500  feet.  No  second  ascent  of  the 
mountain  is  rcconlcd  till  .\|uil  (see  Brantz  Jlaycr,  Mexico,  vol.  ii. ) 
and  November  1S27.  Other  ascents  have  been  made  in  1834,  1848, 
ynd  subsequent  ye.nrs. 

POPP^A  SABINA.     See  Neko. 

POPPY  OIL  is  obtained  by  pressure  from  the  minute 
oceds  of  the  garden  or  opium  poppy,  Papaver  somniferum 
(see  Opium,  vol.  xvii.  p.  787).  The  white-seeded  and 
black-seeded  varieties  are  both  usca  for  oil-pressing ;  but, 
when  the  production  of  oil  is  the  principal  object  of  the 
culture,  the  black  seed  is  usually  preferred.  The  qualities 
of  the  oil  yielded  by  both  varieties  and  the  proportion 
they  contain  (from  50  to  GO  per  cent.)  are  the  same.  By 
cold  pressure  seeds  of  fine  quality  yield  from  30  to  40  per 
cent,  of  virgin  or  white  oil  [huile  blanche),  a  transparent 
limpid  fluid  with  a  slight  yellowish  tinge,  bland  and 
pleasant  to  taste,  and  with  almost  no  perceptible  smell. 
On  second  pressure  with  the  aid  cf  heat  an  additional  20 
to  25  per  cent,  of  inferior  oil  {huile  de  fahrique  or  huile 
russe)  is  obtained,  reddish  in  colour,  possessed  of  a  biting 
taste,  and  a  linseed-like  small.  The  oil  belongs  to  the 
jinoleic  or  drying  series,  having  as  its  principal  constituent 
linolein ;  and  it  possesses  greater  drying  power  than  raw 
linseed  oil.  Its  specific  gravity  at  15"  C.  is  0925;  it 
remains  limpid  at  -  15°  C,  but  forms  a  thick  white  mass 
at  -  20°  C,  which  does  not  again  become  fluid  till  the 
temperature  rises  to  -  2°  C.  Poppy  oil  is  a  valuable  and 
much  used  medium  for  artistic  oil  painting.  The  fine 
qualities  are  largely  used  in  the  north  of  France  (huile  de 
ceilletie)  and  in  Germany  as  a  salad  oil,  and  are  less  liable 
than  olive  oil  to  rancidity.  The  absence  of  taste  and 
characteristic  smell  in  poppy  oil  also  leads  to  its  being  much 
used  for  adulterating  olive  oil.  The  inferior  qualities  are 
principally  consumed  in  soap-making  and  varnish-making, 
and  for  burning  in  lamps.  The  oil  is  very  e.xtensively  used 
in  the  valley  of  the  Ganges  and  other  opium  regions  for 
food  and  domestic  purposes.  By  native  methods  in  India 
about  30  per  cent,  of  oil  is  extracted,  and  the  remaining 
oleaginous  cake  is  used  as  food  by  the  poor.  Ordinary 
poppy-oil  cake  is  a  valuable  feeding  material,  rich  in  nitro- 
genous constituents,  with  an  ash  showing  an  unusually 
large  proportion  of  phosphoric  acid.  The  seed  of  the 
yellow  horned  poppy,  Glaucium  luteum,  yields  from  30  to 
35  per  cent.'  of  an  oil  having  the  same  drying  and  other 
properties  as  poppy  oil ;  and  from  the  Mexican  poppy, 
Aryemone  mexicana,  is  obtained  a  non-drying  purgative 
oil  useful  as  a  lubricant  and  for  burning. 

POPULATION.  The  phenomena  of  population  are 
the  product  of  physical  forces  the  nature  of  which  it  will 
be  necessai-y  to  investigate.  It  will,  however,  be  con- 
venient to  consider  population,  in  the  first  place,  as  a 
statical  phenomenon,  that  is,  to  observe  and  classify  the 
principal  features  it  presents,  without  attempting  to  in- 
vestigate the  system  of  causes  of  which  they  are  the 
effects.  Thereafter  the  dynamical  aspects  of  the  .subject, 
namely,  the  general  laws  governing  the  forces  whose  joint 
action  has  produced  population,  will  receive  attention. 

I.  Population,  stciliccilly  considered,  may  be  defined  as 
"the  totality  of  human  beings  existing  within  a  given  area 
at  a  given  moment  of  time."  This  definition  is  identical 
with  that  adopted  by  Haushofer  (p.  87),  except  that  that 
eminent  authority  thought  it  unnecessary  to  add  the  clause 
relating  to  time.  The  totality  just  mentioned  is  ascertained 
in  modern  times  and  by  civilized  nations  by  the  statistical 


operation  known  as  the  Census  (q.v.).  It  is  usual  to 
obtain  by  means  of  a  census  a  good  deal  of  information 
beyond  the  bare  fact  of  the  number  of  personi  whose 
existence  is,  for  the  purposes  of  the  census,  taken  cogniz- 
ance of.  Part  of  this  information  is  obtained  for  purposes 
connected  with  the  administration  of  the  state,  such  as 
that  contained  in  replies  to  questions  as  to  the  religion, 
profession,  <tc.,  of  the  individuals  numbered.  But  these 
facts,  though  highly  important,  are  not  facts  of  popula- 
tion strictly  speaking.  There  are  two  very  important 
characteristics  common  to  all  considerable  populations — 
namely,  the  approximate  constancy  of  the  distribution  of 
the  population  as  regards  sex  and  age.  A  census  which 
did  not  distinguish  between  the  number  of  male  and  the 
number  of  female  persons  composing  the  population  of 
which  it  takes  cognizance  would  be  seriously  defective. 
Inquiries  as  to  the  height  and  the  girth  round  the  chest 
of  individuals  are  usually  made  in  countries  where  military 
service  is  compulsory,  and  the  degree  of  prevalence  of 
bodily  defects,  such  as  blindness  and  deafness,  is  also  noted 
for  similar  reasons ;  but  such  inquiries  are  the  work  of 
specialists,  official  and  other,  and  in  any  case  are  not  in- 
cluded in  the  information  obtained  from  a  census.  The 
age  of  each  individual  is,  however,  easily  obtained  in  tho 
course  of  the  operations  of  the  census.  We  shall  now 
briefly  set  forth  the  general  characteristics  of  a  population, 
examined  at  a  particular  point  of  time  and  without  refer- 
ence to  similar  phenomena  at  previous  points  of  time. 

Population  of  the  World. — The  total  population  of  the 
world  is,  to  a  large  extent,  an  estimate,  inasmuch  as  in 
some  countries  a  proper  census  has  never  been  taken,  while 
in  many  the  interval  that  has  elapsed  since  the  last  opera- 
tion is  so  long  as  to  reduce  it  to  the  level  of  serving  as  a 
basis  for  a  calculation  in  which  estimates  play  a  large  part. 

So  great,  indeed,  is  the  uncertainty  in  which  all  such 
calculations  are  involved  thav  an  eminent  French  statis- 
tician, M.  Block,  abandons  all  attempt  to  deal  with  the 
problem,  dismissing  the  subject  in  the  /ollowing  note 
(Traite,  ic,  p.  401), — "Nous  abstenons  de  donner  lo  chiffre 
de  Tenscmblo  de  la  population  do  la  terre  ;  pcrsonne  ne  con- 
nait  ce  chiffre."  With  this  view  of  the  matter  we  entirely 
agree,  without,  however,  any  disparagement  to  the  valuable 
work  done  by  Behm  and  Wagner,  who  have  made  the  popu- 
lation of  the  earth  their  special  study,  and  are  under  no 
illusions  as  to  the  accuracy  of  the  results  they  have  to 
offer.  The  work  of  these  two  eminent  men  of  science  has 
at  any  rate  drawn  attention  to  tho  lacunx  in  our  present 
Table  I. — Estimates  of  tlu  Population  of  the  fVorld. 


Author  of  Estimate 

Tear. 

Number  (In  Millions). 

16G0 
1742 
1753 
1804 
1805 
1805 
1810 
1812 
1813 
1816 
1822 
1824 
1833 
1838 
1838 
1840 
1840 
1840 
1842 
1843 
1868 
1880 
1882 

1,000 

950-1.000 

1,600 

437 

700 

700 

C40 

766 

636 

704 

732 

938 

872       . 

950 

850 

750 

704 

864 
1,272 

739 
1,270 
1,456 
1,434 

Siissmilch 

Voltairo 

Piiikcrtoii 

Fabri 

Morso , 

Grabcrg  V.  Homsb 

Balbi 

Hasscl 

Stein.       ...          

Fmn?! 

Omalius  d' Hallo v      

Bernoulli 

V    lloon       

Balln     

Kolb                  

XDL  —  65 


514 


POPULATION 


knowledge,  besides  arranging  and  co-ordinating  the  great 
multiplicity  of  well-ascertained  facts  at  our  disposal.  As 
civilization  advances  the  area  of  the  unknown  or  partially 
known,  which  is  at  present  large,  will  gradually  diminish. 

Table  I.  (p.  513  supra),  taken  from  Haushofer's  work 
(Lehr-  u.  Uandbuch,  p.  90,  note  1),  ■will  show  how 
greatly  the  estimates  of  the  world's  population  have- 
varied  since  people  first  began  to  make  them.  We 
venture  to  say  that  any  person  of  fair  intelligence  and 
ordinary  education  would,  even  -without  any  statistical 
training,  come  to  the  conclusion  that  there  was  nothing 
certain  to  be  known  on  the  subject  which  these  figures 
profess  to  illustrate.  The  fact  that  Behm  and  Wagner's 
latest  estimate  is  less  than  that  published  by  them  two 
years  previously  shows  how  difficult  the  subject  is.  We 
should  add  that  the  reasons  given  by  them  for  this  dis- 
crepancy, for  even  a  tyro  would  have  expected  a  slight 
incresise,  are  quite  satisfactory,  and  add  to  our  confidence 
in  that  part  of  the  investigation  for  which  they  profess  to 
give  figures  approximatmg  to  accuracy. 

According  to  Behm  and  Wagner  (JDie  Bevolkerang  der 
Erde,  vn.)  the  following  (Table  II.)  may  bo  taken  as  the 
population  of  the  sections  of  the  world  indicated  in  June 
1882:1— 


Area  In  Square 
Kilometres. 

Inhabitants. 

Kumlier. 

Per  Sq.  Kilo. 

Per  Sq.  Mile. 

Europe 

9,730,576 
44,580,850 
29,823,253 
38,473,138 

g,952,855 
4,478,200 

327,743,400 
795,591,000 
205,823,200 
100,415,400 

4,232,000 
82,500 

34-0 

18  0- 

7-0 

2-6 

0-5 

88-0 

46-8 

18-1 

6-7 

i's 

Africa 

America 

Australasia.. 
Polynesia.... 
Polar  regions 

Total.. 

136,038,872 

1,433,887,500 

10-.=! 

271 

Sex. — The  obstacles  which  make  it  difficult  to  attain  even 
an  approximate  statement  of  the  population  of  the  world 
prevent  us  from  obtaining  any  accurate  knowledge  what- 
ever as  to  the  sexual  constitution  of  that  population.  We 
have,  however,  tolerably  accurate  information  on  this 
subject  for  most  of  the  countries  of  Europe,  for  the 
United  States,  and  for  Canada.  From  the  figures  available 
it  is  evident  that  no  general  proposition  can  be  laid  down 
on  the  subject^of  the  normal  proportion  of  females  to 
males,  except  that  in   so-called  "  old  "  countries  there  is 


Table  III. — Statement  of  the  Number  of  Females  living  in  the  imdSr- 
mentioned  Countries  for  every  Thousand  Males  in  the  K«.ir 
mentioned  (Haushofer,  p.  216) : — 


German  Empire 

England  and  Wales.. 

Scotland 

Ireland 

Denmark 

Norway 

Sweden 

Austria 

Hungary 

Italy 

Switzerland 

France 

Belgium 

HoUand 

United  States 

Canada 


FemjilRs  to  each 

1000  Male«. 

1875 

1,036 

1871 

1,054 

»> 

1,096 

1,044 

1870 

1,026 

1865 

1,036 

1870 

1,067 

1869 

1,041 

If 

1.002 

1870 

989 

1.046 

1872 

1,008 

1866 

995 

1869 

1,029 

1870 

972 

»» 

939 

The  census  of  England-and  Wales  for  1881  gave  1055 
females  to  1000  males.  A  slight  tendency  to  an  increase 
in  the  proportion  is  perceptible  in  some  countries,  and  to 
a  decrease  in  others,  as  the  following  table  (IV.)  given  by 
Wappaus  and  quoted  by  Haushofer  (p.  217)  will  show. 
The  reader  -will  observe  that  Wappaus's  figures  are  the 
proportions  to  100,  not  to  1000,  as  in  Table  IIL 


Tear. 

Females 
to  100 
Uales. 

Year. 

FemaleB 
to  100 

Hales. 

England 

Scotland 

Ireland .    . 

1851 
i» 

1850 
1855 

104-16 
110-02 
103-37 
103-30 
104-14 

1850 
1851 
1846 
1849 
1850 

106-40 
101-12 
100-47 
103-96 
95-05 

France 

Beloiura 

Denmark 

Holland 

United  States.. 

The  1880  census  of  the  United  States  states  the  propor- 
tion of  females  to  males  at  96-54  per  cent.,  which  is  rather 
smaller  than  that  shown  in  1870  (97-2  per  cent.);  but 
immigration  is  still  a  potent  factor  in  the  growth  of  the 
population  of  that  country. 

With  regard  to  the  causes  of  the  excess  of  females,  aa 
in  most  other  social  phenomena,  our  knowledge  is  verj- 
small  at  present  The  reason  for  the  broad  distinction 
between  Europe  and  North  America  is  pretty  obvious. 
New  countries  are  continually  receiving  many  male  and 
fewer  female  immigrants.  Probably  also,  life  being  ver> 
rough  in  the  more  unsettled  portions  of  such  countries,  the 
rate  of  mortality  among  females  is  a  little  higher  than  in 


usually  a  slight  excess  of  the  former. 

Table  V. — Statement  of  the  "Age  Scale"  (Altersaufbau)  of  Oie  Population  in  each  of  the  undermentioned  Countries;  showing  by  Semi 
Decennial  Periods  up  to  30  Years,  and  Decennial  Periods  subsequently,  the  Number  of  Persons  of  each  Age  out  of  every  Thousand 
Persons  in  the  Population. 


0-5. 

5-10. 

10-15. 

15-20. 

20-25. 

23-30. 

30-40. 

40-50. 

50-80. 

hO-70. 

70-80. 

S0-!)0. 
4 

Over  90. 
0-2 

German  Empire 

1875 

134 

112 

102 

95 

83 

76 

134 

'103 

84 

51 

21     ' 

England 

1871 

135 

119 

107 

96 

■  88 

78 

128 

100 

73 

47 

22 

5 

0-4 

l» 

136 
120 

120 
105 

111 
103 

100 
116 

,   87 
106' 

76 
71 

122 
103 

96 
99 

71 
83 

49 
61 

25 
23 

6 

0-8 
11 

Ireland 

Denmark 

1870 

124 

107 

102 

93 

81 

75 

130 

114 

85 

56 

26 

I. 

0-4 

Norway 

1865 

135 

119 

106 

94 

81 

,70 

131 

107 

67 

62 

29 

7 

0-7 

Sweden 

1870 

118 

116 

106 

91 

79  . 

73 

131 

119 

85 

61 

26 

'5. 

0-3 

Austria 

1869 

130 

108 

99 

93 

85 

82 

138 

113 

84 

47 

16 

3 

0-2 

Hungary 

147 

115 

-    108 

.95 

.  82 

86 

141 

106 

70 

37 

11 

2i 

0-3 

Italy 

1870 

115 

109 

100 

,     90  ■ 

87  ■ 

77    ■ 

134 

115 

84 

67 

24     , 

B 

0-6 

Switzerland 

113  . 

106 

97 

84 

81 

,80 

141 

119 

89 

61 

24 

4 

0-2 

France 

1872 

93 

91 

87 

,84 

.  83 

72 

139 

125 

104 

72 

36 

7 

0-4 

Belgium 

1866 

120 

105 

,  92 

-    88 

84   - 

78 

132 

112 

89 

66 

27 

6 

0-4 

Holland 1869 

Average  for  Europe 

United  States 1871 

130 

109 

94 

92 

79 

78 

135 

113 

84 

63 

26 

5 

0-3; 

121 

108 

100 

92 

87 

78 

134 

112 

85 

65 

24 

6 

0-4 

140 

124 

123 

105    ' 

96        .80 

128 

93 

69 

33 

14 

3 

0  4 

Canada 

General  average  .. 

1861 

174 

132 

123 

117 

17 

110 

76 

49 

29 

12 

3 

0-5 

125 

111' 

104 

94 

16fi 

133 

108 

81 

62 

22 

6 

0-4 

*  For  more  minute  inform.itiou  see  I'eUrmanns  At ULkdlungen^  "  Erganzungshoft "  No.  69. 


POPULATION 


515 


places  where  women  can  receive  more  protection  from  hard- 
ship. On  the  other  hand,  even  in  Europe  men  run  many 
risks  to  which  women  are  not  exposed.  The  subject  is  a 
very  interesting  one,  but  cannot  be  adequately  treated  except 
at  much  greater  length  than  is  possible  here,  and  we  must 
refer  onr  readers  to  spec:'al  works  for  further  information. 

Age. — The.  characteristics  of  a  population  from  the  point 
of  view  of  age,  which  German  writers  term  "  Altersauf  ban," 
can  only  be  treated  very  generally.  Table  V.  on  p.  514 
is  quoted  by  Haushofer  (p.  213)  from  Von  Scheel's  Hand- 
buck  der  Statislik. 

This  "  age  scale  "  shows  us  I'ne  proportion  in  which  per- 
sons of  various  categories  of  age  are  found  combined  to  form 
populations.  The  general  characteristics  of  the  groups  are 
tolerably  obvious.  It  must  be  remembered  that  after  thirty 
years  the  periods  are  decenniaL  The  difference  between 
the  age  scale  of  Europe  and  that  of  North  America  is  con- 
siderable. In  the  latter,  owing  mainly  to  the  fact  that 
emigrants  are  usually  young,  a  much  larger  proportion  of 
the  population  than  in  Europe  are  under  thirty  years  of 
age.  On  the  other  hand  the  age  scale  of  France  presents 
a  feature  of  an  opposite  kind,  namely,  a  deficiency  of 
persons  under  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  an  excess  of  those 
over  forty,  as  compared  with  the  average  of  Europe.  This 
conformation  of  the  age  scale  may  be  compared  with  that 
of  Hungary,  where  the  number  of  children  is  larger  and 
the  number  of  persons  over  forty  less  than  the  av«rage.  It 
is  probable  that  the  smaller  number  of  children  in  the  one 
case  and  the  larger  in  the  other  directly  lead  respectively 
to  a  smaller  infant  mortality  in  France  than  in  Hungary. 
ha  M.  Block  observes  (Trails,  p.  409),  "  Nous  avons  mains 
d'enfants ;  mais,  grice  h,  une  moindre  mortalitd  dans  le 
jeune  age,  nous  avons  plus  d'adults."  It  is  obvious  that 
cxteris  paribus  it  is  easier  to  pay  the  requisite  attention 
to  the  rearing  of  a  small  number  of  children  than  to  do 
the  same  foi  a  larger  number. 

Careful  inquiries  into  age  scales  are  of  very  recent 
origin,  the  data  required  for  evaluating  those  relating  to 
earlier  periods  being  absent.  Moreover,  erroneous  state- 
ments as  to  their  age  are  made  by  a  much  larger  number  of 
persons  than  might  be  supposed,  sometimes  from  careless- 
ness or  ignorance,  but  also  intentionally.  The  tendency 
of  women  over  twenty-five  to  understate  their  age,  combined 
with  overstatements  of  age  by  girls  and  young  women  under 
twenty,  always  tends  to  make  the  twenty  to  twenty-five 
section  of  the  age  scale  unduly  large  (see  Census  of  England 
and  Wales,  1881,  vol.  iv.,  "General  Report").  We  must 
regard  even  the  age  scales  now  in  existence  as  merely  first 
approximations,  for  it  is  evident  that  observations  obtained 
from  several  censuses  must  be  reduced  and  combined  before 
we  can  feel  certain  that  accidental  causes  of  error  have  been 
eliminated.  This  is  all  the  more  necessary  as  the  age 
Bcaleof  any  given  population  cannot  be  regarded  as  fixed, 
any  more  than  the  magnitude  of  the  population  itself,  both 
being  liable  to  modifications  arising  out  of  the  varying 
dynamical  conditions  existing  at  different  periods.  And 
this  brings  us  to  the  second  portion  of  our  inquiry,  in 
which  we  shall  indicate  in  the  most  general  way  the 
nature  of  the  proximate  causes  which  underlie  the  pheno- 
mena of  population  considered  as  a  fact  existing  at  a 
particular  moment  of  time. 

II.  Population,  dynamically  considered,  is  th^  result  of 
two  pairs  of  opposing  forces,  whoso  combined  action  may, 
for  convenience,  be  theoretically  conceived  of  as  balancing 
each  other,  but  which  never  do  so  balance  as  a  matter  of 
fact.  A  comparison  of  two  successive  censuses  invariably 
shows  some  "movement  of  population."  In  nearly  all 
civilized  countries  the  movement  shown  is  one  of  growth 
when  the  body  of  population  examined  is  large.  The 
population  of  a  village  or  a  small  town  may,  quite  con- 


ceivably, show  a  reduction  in  number  for  the  period 
between  two  censuses,  but  this  can  hardly  be  the  case 
with  a  large  town,  and  still  less  ■n-ith  a  nation,  unless  as 
the  consequence  of  some  great  calamity  such  as  an  earth- 
quake or  a  pestilence  or  a  change  in  the  climatic  or 
economic  conditions  of  the  country  inhabited.  A  great 
war,  of  course,  produces  a  certain  retardation  ef  the  rate 
of  increase.  Although  some  of  the  uncivilized  peoples  of 
the  world  are  rapidly  disappearing,  the  tendency  of  the 
population  of  the  whole  world  is  evidently  to  increase — at 
what  rate  it  is  impossible  to  say,  for  reasons  already 
mentioned  ;  and  our  inquiry  will,  therefore,  be  confined  to 
peoples  regarding  whose  population  we  have  compara- 
tively accurate  information  for  an  adequate  number  of 
years. 

The  causes  of  the  movement  of  population  are  internal 
and  external.  The  internal  arise  out  of  the  numerical  rela- 
tion between  the  births  and  deaths  of  a  given  period,  there 
being  an  increase  when  there  are  more  births  than  deaths,  a 
decrease  in  the  contrary  case.  Haushofer  expresses  this 
by  a  formula  which  is  sometimes  convenient : — "  There 
is  an  increase  where  the  intervals  between  successive  births 
are  smaller  than  those  between  successive  deaths  "  (p. 
115).  The  external  are  immigration  and  emigration. 
The  intensity  of  these  two  forces  operating  on  population 
depends  on  a  variety  of  causes,  into  which  we  do  not 
propose  to  enter.  Generally  speaking,  it  may  be  said  that 
"  new "  countries,  where  the  density  of  population  is 
small,  attract  immigrants  from  countries  in  which  the 
density  of  population  is  great.  The  density  of  population 
is  expressed  by  the  figure  denoting  the  number  of  inhabit- 
ants per  square  mile  (or  square  kilometre)  of  the  territory 
they  occupy.  For  a  discussion  of  the  various  political, 
social,  and  economic  causes  which  determine  density 
of  population,  we  must  refer  our  readers  to  the  works 
of  Haushofer  (p.  173)  and  Block  (p.  456).  Before  ana- 
lysing the  components  of  the  movement  of  population  it 
will  be  useful  to  examine  briefly  that  movement  itself, 
and  ascertain  what  is  its  normal  rate  in  civilized  countries. 
The  mode  of  expressing  this  rate  which  is  most  com- 
monly adopted  in  the  exposition  of  statistics  of  population 
is  to  state  the  number  of  years  in  which  a  given  popula- 
tion "doubles  itself."  It  is  not  a  very  scientific  method 
of  expressing  the  facts,  since  it  assumes  that  the  rate  of  a 
few  years  will  continue  for  a  period  of  many  years,  but, 
in  deference  to  custom,  we  give  a  table  constructed  in 
accordance  with  it. 

Table  VI. — Statement  of  the  Yearly  Rale  of  Increase  of  the  Popu- 
lation of  the  underme^ilioned  Countries,  during  the  folloxoing 
Periods, -with  the  dumber  of  Years  in  which  the  said  Popu- 
lations would  double  themselves,  oti  the  ru-pposilion  that  the 
rales  remain  unchanged  (Wappaua,  quoted  by  Ilaushofcr). 


BuU  of  Calculation. 

Approximate 

Doubling 

Yean. 

Tcara. 

Annual  PeiT«nUgfi 
of  Increase. 

Norway 

1845-55 
1845-55 
1800-55 
1852-55 
1840-49 
1838-48 
1852-55 
1846-56 
1841-51 
1842-60 
J851-66 
1852-55 

1-15 
0-89 
0-88 
0-84 
0-67 
0-58 
0-53 
0'44 
0-23 
018 
0  14 
0  002 

61 

71 

79 

83 

103 

119 

131 

168 

302 

386 

406 

3,162 

Saxony 

ILDlland 

Sardi  n  ia 

Belgium 

Austria 

Hanover 

Wo  now  proceed  to  give  a  table  (VII.)  constructed  by 
Signoro  Luigi  Bodio  on  the  best  principles,  which  sliows  the 
annual  rales  of  increase  of  a  number  of  countries,  for  two 
distinct  periods,  taking  account  of  the  important  changes 


516 


POPULATION 


of  frontier  which  have  occurred  during  the  whole  period 
covered  by  the  table.  If  this  rectification  had  not  been 
made  it  is  obvious  that  the  figures  resulting  from  the 
observations  of  the  two  periods  would  not  hsve  been  com- 
parable in  the  case  of  Italy  and  several  other  states 
(Block,  p.  405  ;  Haushofer,  p.  1 20).  We  may  mention 
that  the  actually  observed  yearly  rate  of  increase  in  the 
population  of  England  and  Wales  between  1871  and  1881 
was  1'44  per  cent,  of  the  population  in  1871. 


Fiance 

Italy 

United  KingJom 

England  and  Wales 

Ireland 

Denmark 

Sweden 

Norway 

Russia  in  Europe 

Austria  (Cisleithan) 

Hungary 

Switzerland 

Prussia  (without  recent 

annexations) 

Prussia  (with  recent  an- 

ne.tations) 

Bavaria 

Saxony 

Wiirteraberg 

Holland 

Belgium 

Portugal 

Spain 

Poland 

Greece 

Servia 

United  States 


Period 
Obseived. 


Yearly 
Rate  of 
Increase. 


Period 
Observed. 


1800-60 
1800-61 
1801-61 
1801-61 
1801-61 
1801-60 
1800-60 
1800-60 
1851-63 
1830-60 
1830-60 
1837-60 

1820-61 

1830-61 
1818-61 
1820-61 
1834-61 
1795-1859 
1831-60 
1801-61 
1800-60 
1823-58 
1821-61 
1834-59 
1860-70 


0-48 
0-61 
0-98 
1-37 
017 
0-93 
0-82 
0  99 
1-20 
0-64 
0-27 
0-59 

1-21 

116 
0-55 
1-41 
0-34 
0-71 
0-48 
0-39 
0-66 
0-72 
1-22 
1-92 
2  04 


1 860-77 
1861-78 
1861-78 
1860-75 
1861-78 
1860-78 
1860-78 
1860-78 
1863-75 
1860-78 
1860-77 
1860-78 

1861-75 


1861-75 

0-83 

1861-78 

0-54 

1861-78 

1-56 

1861-78 

0-76 

1859-77 

0-95 

1860-78 

0-82 

1861-74 

1-17 

1860-77 

0-35 

1858-77 

1-95 

1861-77 

0-97 

1859-78 

1-19 

1870-80 

2-61 

Yearly 
Rate  of 

Increaa&  i 


0-35 

0-71 

0-92 

1-24 

0-46> 

111 

1-15 

0-86 

1-11 

0-86 

0-55 

0-60 

0-93 


>  Decrease. 

It  must  be  noted  'that,  while  the  table  may  be  relied  on 
so  far  as  Signior  Bodio's  treatment  of  the  data  goes,  the 
data  for  the  earlier  part  of  the  century  are  very  defective, 
and  the  results  deduced  from  them  must  be  regarded  as 
less  trustworthy  than  those  for  the  more  recent  of  the  two 
periods. 

The  above  tables  of  increase  of  population  include  the 
effects  of  immigration  and  emigration,  regarding  which 
we  have  nothing  further  to  say  in  this  article,  as  the  causes 
of  these  phenomena  are  too  heterogeneous  for  general 
treatment.  Moreover,  except  in  comparatively  unimport- 
ant cases — unimportant,  that  is,  from  our  point  of  view, 
but  by  no  means  so  from  the  standpoint  of  the  statesman — 
the  effects  of  these  two  causes  are  small,  the  main  cause  of 
the  growth  of  population  being  the  internal  forces  already 
mentioned,  namely,  the  birth-rate  and  the  death-rate. 

During  the  earlier  half  of  the  century  the  rate  of  in- 
crease in  the  United  States  ranged  from  2  J  to  3  per  cent, 
per  annum  in  the  successive  decades  from  census  to  census. 
The  increase  in  the  population  of  the  United  States  has 
hitherto  depended  so  much  on  immigration  that  at  present 
inquiries  into  the  normal  birth  and  death  rates  of  that 
country  are  very  difficult,  except  in  the  eastern  States. 
Of  the  total  population,  50,442,066,  as  shown  in  the 
census  of  188(),  no  less  than  6,619,943,  or  over  13  per 
cent.,  were  foreigners.  The  fact  already  mentioned,  that 
the  proportion  of  women  to  men  is  unusually  low,  serves 
to  remind  us  that  normal  phenomena  of  population  must 
not  as  yet  be  looked  for  in  the  American  Union. 

The  Birth-Eaie. — The  birth-rate  of  a  population  is  the 
proportion  borne  by  the  number  of  births  in  a  year  to  the 
number  of  the  population.  It  might  seem  that  it  is  easy 
to  obtain  this  rate,  but  aa  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  practically 


impossible  to  do  so.  It  is  not  difficult  to  ascertain,  with 
sufficient  accuracy,  the  number  of  births ;  the  difficulty  is 
to  ascertain  what  is  the  number  of  the  population,  for 
that  number  is  never  the  same  for  two  days  together.  It 
is  obvious  that  it  would  never  do  to  evaluate  the  birth- 
rate of  the  United  Kingdom,  say  for  1885,  by  means  of 
the  figures  obtained  in  the  censiis  taken  on  April  4,  1881, 
and  the  error  would  be  greater  next  year,  and  greater  still 
the  year  after.  The  growth  of  the  population  since  the 
last  census  must,  therefore,  be  taken  into  account;  but,  even 
when  it  has  been  decided  to  adopt  this  plan,  there  is  the 
difficulty  of  fixing  on  the  date  up  to  which  the  additions 
are  to  be  made.  The  usual  practice  is  to  take  the  popula- 
tion of  a  date  as  near  as  possible  to  the  middle  of  the 
year  for  which  the  birth-rate  is  required  as  the  basis  for 
the  calculation.  We  mention  these  difficulties  as  a  caution 
to  students  of  statistics.  The  following  table  (VIII.) 
quoted  by  Haushofer,  p.  123,  is  taken  from  Bodio's 
Movimento  dello  Siaio  Civile  (Rome,  1880)  ;  the  figures  for 
the  minor  countries  have  been  omitted,  and  still-births  ar^ 
excluded : — 


Period  Obserred. 

Average  Yearly 

Number  of  Blnhalo 

100  Inliabitanta. 

Italy 

1865-78 
1865-77 
1865-78 

1865-77 
1870-78 
1865-78 
1865-77 
1865-78 
1865-70 
1865-77 
1870-77 
1867-75 
1865-77 

3-70 
2-58 
3-56 
3-52 
2-67 
3-87 
3-94 
4-17 
3-88 
418 
3-08 
3-21 
3-56 
304 
3-57 
2-88 
304 
4-93 
4-23 

England  and  Wales 

Irel.ind 

Prussia 

Bavaria 

Hungary 

Switzerland 

Beloium 

Holland 

Spain 

Greece 

Poland 

1  Excluding  Poland. 

The  birth-rate  in  different  countries  is  influenced  by 
various  circumstances  into  which  it  is  not  possible  to  enter 
at  length.  The  most  important  circumstance  is  the  pro- 
portion borne  by  the  number  of  women  of  child-bearing 
age  to  the  whole  population.  There  are  other  circum- 
stances which  must  be  kept  in  rhind  in  comparing  the 
birth-rates  of  different  countries,  such  as  the  character  of 
the  age  scale  as  a  whole,  and  the  density  of  population, 
besides  climatic  and  other  physical  characteristics  of  the 
environment  of  the  populations  examined.  The  birth-rate 
is  high  in  new  countries,  where  there  is  always  a  largei 
proportion  of  young  men  than  in  old  states,  and  where 
the  proportion  of  women  of  child-bearing  age  is  also  large. 
The  latter  circumstance  is,  we  may  point  out,  quite  con- 
sistent with  the  statement  already  _  made,  that  in  new 
countries  the  proportion  of  women  to  men  is  smaller  than 
in  old  ones.  For  an  unusually  large  proportion  of  the 
total  number  of  women  in  new  countries  are  young. 

Some  facts  relating  to  the  absolute  number  of  births 
may  here  be  briefly  referred  to.  The  most  important  of 
these  is  its  composition  as  regards  sex.  We  have  already 
seen  that  in  most  populations  there  are  more  women  than 
men.  This  is  not  a  consequence  of  there  being  more  girls 
born  than  boys,  for  the  fact  is  just  the  contrary.  The 
following  table  (IX.)  shows  the  number  of  male  births  to 
every  100  female  births  which  took  place  in  the  under- 
mentioned countries  during  the  periods  stated  {Moviment«, 
&.C.,  p.  126;  Haushofer,  p.  218):— 


POPULATION 


617 


Coantries. 


lUly 

France 

England  and  Wales.. 

Scotland 

Ireland 

Prussia 

Bavaria 

Austria 

Hungaiy 

Switzerland 

Belgium 

Holland 

Sweden 

Spain 

Greece 

Eoumania 

Russia  in  Europe 

Servia  


Ptriod  of 
Observation. 


1865-78 
186G-77 
1865-78 
1865-75 
1SG5-78 
1865-78 
1865-78 
1865-78 
1865-77 
1872-78 
1865-78 
1865-77 
1865-78 
1865-70 
1870-77 
1870-77 
1867-74 
1865-78 


Boys  born 
for  100  OlrU. 


104 
103 
104 
106 
106 
104 
103 
106 
104 

99 
102 
102 
106 
104 

94 
105 
105 
111 


On  the  somewhat  anomalous  figures  we  must  observe 
that  those  relating  to  Greece  and  Servia  are  possibly  to  be 
explained  by  the  hypothesis  of  inaccurate  returns.  We 
may  add  that,  if  a  distinction  is  made  between  legitimate 
and  illegitimate  children,  it  is  usually  found  that  the  excess 
of  male  births  is  greater  among  the  latter.  In  countries, 
therefore,  where  the  proportion  of  illegitimate  to  legitimate 
births  is  high  there  will  usually  be  a  higher  proportion  of 
male  to  female  births  than  in  countries  where  there  are 
not  relatively  so  many  illegitimate  births  (Block,  p.  429). 

Interesting  inquiries  have  been  made  into  the  facts 
regarding  the  distribution  of  births  during  the  year, 
showing  that  there  are,  as  a  rule,  more  births  in  some 
months  than  in  others,  and  also  as  to  the  influence  high 
prices  for  the  primary  necessaries  of  life  have  on  the 
number  of  births  (Mayr,  p.  235). 

The  Death-Rate.  — The  death-rate  of  a  population  is  the 
proportion  borne  by  the  number  of  deaths  in  a  year  to 
the  number  of  the  population.  The  population  is  to  be 
reckoned  as  has  been  already  described  in  dealing  with 
the  birth-rate.  This  very  important  statistical  quantity 
is  sometimes  confused  with  another  relating  to  the  same 
phenomenon, — namely,  the  mean  duration  of  life.  The 
difficulties  in  obtaining  an  accurate  death-rate  are,  if  any- 
thing, greater  than  in  the  case  of  the  birth-rate. 

Table  X. — Statement  of  the  Average  Annual  Death-rate  in  the 
undermentioned  Countries,  durin/j  the  Years  stated,  excluding 
Still-births  {Movimcnto,  \u  Haushofer,  p.  137). 


Italy 

Franco  

England  and  Wales . 

Scotland 

Irelapd 

Prussia 

Bivatia 

.^ustifa 

Hungary 

Switzerland 

UclL'iuni 

Holland 

Sweden 

Spain 

Greece 

Koumania 

Russiain  Europe 


Period  Obserrcd. 


1865-78 
1865-77 
1865-78 
1865-78 
1865-78 
1865-78 
1865-78 
1865-78 
1865-77 
1870-78 
1865-78 
1865-77 
1865-78 
1855-70 
1865-77 
1870-77 
1867-75 


Average  Teurly 
Number  of  Deaths 
to  100  Inhabitants. 


2-99 
2-40 
2-20 
2-21 
1-72 
2-72 
3-09 
318 
3-80 
2-38 
2-32 
2-49 
1-92 
312 
2  09 
2-65 
3-67 


This  table  is  sufficient  for  our  purpose,  which  is  to  give 
a  general  idea  as  to  the  death-rate  of  these  countries. 
Much  more  accurate  approximations  are,  however,  needed 
for  actuarial  purposes,  and  very  elaborate  valuations  of 
the  death-rate  will  bo  found  in  G.  F.  Knapp'a  work 
Utber  die  Ermittelung  der  Sterhlichkeit   (Leipsic,    1868). 


Great  pains  have  been  taken  by  most  civilized  states  to 
obtain  accurate  figures  as  to  the  mortality  of  the  popula- 
tion, and  the  literature  dealing  with  the  subject  is  of  great 
extent. 

We  must  now  show  how  the  death-rate  is  usually  com- 
posed as  regards  age.  The  following  table  (XI.)  shows  the 
number  of  persons  out  of  every  hundred  deaths  who  died 
at  the  undermentioned  ages  in  each  of  the  countries  named 
(Haushofer,  p.  143;  quoted  from  the  Movimento): — 


^ 

-r-- 

'*'o 

.^. 

f^ 

^^ 

u     „• 

if 

5,-V 

^^ 

Co 

^"J 

12 

BJ, 

M  S.*T 

2g 

S2 

£s 

-^S 

}.ri 

l-S 

hs 

0-  1 

26-73 

18-79 

2476 

32-20 

40-47 

31  80 

26-21 

22-93 

36-Sl 

1-  6 

21  04 

10-51 

15-73 

16-19 

9-77 

16-20 

8-11 

25-20 

2118 

6-10 

4-60 

2-98 

3-84 

4-04 

2-37 

438 

2-62 

3-73 

500 

10-15 

208 

1-76 

1-97 

1  66 

1-00 

1  91 

1-59 

1-98 

2-07 

15-20 

217 

2-49 

2-59 

1-85 

1-22 

2-14 

2-13 

2-39 

2-06 

10-30 

6-45 

7-30 

3-14 

■  4  63 

4-10 

6  37 

5-58 

5-62 

4-76 

30-40 

614 

6-40 

6-42 

6-34 

4-65 

6  70 

C-54 

5-90 

4-97 

40-60 

6-45 

6-90 

6-68 

6-62 

6-13 

6-44 

7-17 

6-69 

6-63 

60-60 

6-63 

8-83 

7-02 

7  49 

7-31 

7-84 

9-43 

7-24 

623 

CO-70 

8  82 

12-75 

8-32 

8-91 

10-67 

8-84 

13-22 

e-62 

6-38 

70-80 

814 

14-50 

9-72 

8-07 

9-55 

6-74 

12-39 

6-68 

4-14 

80-90 

3-33 

6-21 

7-60 

2-79 

3-20 

2-35 

4-08 

2-50 

1-06 

90-100 

0-37 

0-57 

2-09 

0-27 

}o-23 

r  0-24 

\  o-oi 

0-27 

0-31 

0-16 

Over  100 

0-01 

0-01 

012 

0-02 

... 

0-01 

002 

Unknown. 

0  03 

0-72 

0-06 

0-04 

... 

0-19 

It  will  be  seen  that  from  nearly  one-fifth  to  nearly  one- 
third  of  the  deaths  were  those  of  children  less  than  twelve 
months  old.  The  very  high  proportion  of  deaths  at  this 
age  in  Bavaria  was  some  years  ago  made  the  subject  of  a 
special  inquiry  by  Dr  Mayr,  and  it  was  found  to  be  largely 
due  to  the  bad  mode  of  bringing  up  infants  peculiar  to 
certain  localities  (Mayr,  pp.  91,  319). 

The  composition  of  the  death-rate  in  regard  to  sex  must 
be  touched  on  briefly.  As  we  have  seen,  more  boys  are 
born  than  girls.  Owing,  however,  to  the  greater  mortality 
among  the  former  their  number  is  rapidly  reduced  during 
the  first  few  years  of  life,  so  that  at  any  given  moment 
the  population  is  composed  as  stated  in  the  age  scales. 
The  exact  mode  in  which  a  given  number  of  persons  bom 
in  the  same  year  disappears  by  death  is  shown  in  the 
elaborate  tables  of  mortality  used  by  actuaries.  These 
tables  are  difl'crent  for  different  countries  and  for  males 
and  females.  Very  elaborate  tables  of  survival  were  pre- 
pared for  the  British  Government  in  1883-84  for  calculating 
annuities. 

We  cannot  here  deal  with  what  is  known  as  the 
"  population  question."  Any  adequate  discussion  of  that 
highly  important  subject  would  involve  considerations 
outside  the  limits  of  this  article.  The  "  population  ques- 
tion "  is  a  question  of  conduct,  while  the  present  article 
seeks  only  to  point  out  certain  well-ascertained  facts 
regarding  the  phenomenon  of  superorganic  evolution 
called  population.  The  facts  in  question  are  general,  and, 
though  sufficient  to  indicate  the  nature  of  the  pheno- 
menon, and  the  broad  divisions  which  are  most  convenient 
for  its  further  investigation,  are  quite  insuflicient  as  the 
basis  for  the  formation  of  any  ethical  judgment  regarding 
the  actions  of  the  individuals  composing  the  population. 

Among  tho  works  that  may  bo  consulted  to  tlio  greatest  ad- 
vantage by  tho  sludent  are  tlio  following  :—tlio  numerous  works 
of  tho  lato  Dr  William  Farr,  F.R.S.,  formerly  rcgistmrgcneral ; 
various  works  by  Dr  W.  A.  Guy,  F.R.S. ;  those  of  Adolphc  Quctolct; 
various  monographs  by  Dr  Ernst  Eiigol,  and  other  eminent  statists 
in  tlie  ofTicial  publications  of  tho  Prussian  Statistical  Olbcc  ;  various 
publicatiims  of  the  Italian  Statistical  Bureau;  the  publications  of 
tlio  International  Congress  of  Stiitistics.  Systematic  treatment  of 
tho  whole  subject  of  population  will  bo  found  in  tho  following 
works  :'^Bertillon,  Mouvements  de  la  PopulaCion  dans  divers  (tat3 
de  VEurope,  Paris,  1877 ;  JIuurico  Block,  I'raili  tMorique  el 
pratique  de  statistique,  Paris,  1878;  L.  Bodio,  ifovintnto  dello 
stato  civile,  Rome,  1878  (publication  of  tho  Italian  Statistical 
Bureau);  A.  Cibaglio,  Storia  e  teoria  delta  slatistiea,  Jlilsn, 
1880;  11.  Haasholer,  Lehr-  und  Ilandbueh  der  Statislik,  Vienna, 
1882  (W.  HO.) 


518 


P  O  R  — P  0  R 


PORBEAGLE,  the  name  of  a  shark  (Zanma  comubicaj, 
mentioned  in  the  works  of  older  British  authors  as 
"  Beaumaris  Shark."  The  short  and  stout  form  of  its 
body  contrasts  strikingly  with  its  much  attenuated  tail, 
which,  however,  is  strengthened  by  a  keel  on  each  side 
and  terminates  in  a  large  and  powerful  caudal  fin.  The 
snout  is  pointed,  and  the  jaws  are  armed  with  strong  lan- 
ceolate teeth,  each  of  which  bears  a  small  cusp  on  each  side 
of  the  base  (see  fig.).  The  teeth  are  not  adapted  for  cut- 
ting, like  the  flat  triangular  teeth  of  man-eating  sharks,  but 
rather  for  seizing  and  holding  the  prey, 
which  consists  chiefly  of  various  kinds  of 
fishes  and  cephalopods.  In  the  upper 
jaw  there  are  from  thirteen  to  sixteen 
teeth  on  each  side,  the  third  being 
remarkable  for  its  small  size  ;  in  the  Upper  and  lower  tooth 
lower  jaw  from  twelve  to  fourteen.    The  ot  Lanuia. 

gill-openings  are  very  wide.  The  porbeagle  attains  to  a 
length  of  10  or  12  feet,  and  is  a  pelagic  fish,  not  rare  in 
the  North  Atlantic  and  ]\Iediterranean,  and  frequently 
wandering  in  pursuit  of  its  prey  to  the  British  and  more 
rarely  to  the  American  shores.  The  same  species  has  been 
found  in  Japan  and  New  Zealand,  and  psrhaps  also  on  the 
coast  of  California,  so  that  the  completion  of  the  evidence 
as  to  its  cosmopolitan  range  is  merely  a  matter  of  time. 
Other  closely-allied  species  {L.  spallanzanii,  L.  glauca) 
are  known  to  occur  in  the  southern  parts  of  the  Atlantic, 
from  the  Mediterranean  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  Very 
little  is  known  of  the  mode  of  propagation  of  the  por- 
beagle, beyond  the  isolated  statement  by  Pennant  that 
two  embryos  were  found  in  a  female.  No  opportunity 
should  be  lost  of  making  further  observations  on  this 
point,  and  of  preserving  if  possible  the  foetuses  in  their 
enveloping  tunics. 

PORCELAIN.     See  Potteev. 

PORCUPINE.  This  word,  derived  from  the  French 
pore-epic,  or  "  spiny  pig,"  is  applied  to  the  members  of  the 
Hystricidx,  a  family  of  rodents  whose  most  prominent 
peculiarity  is  their  covering  of  long  stout  spmes,  which 


Poronpine. 

Tonn  a  highly  efficient  protection  against  enemies,  and  which 
ire  better  developed  in  this  family  than  in  any  other 
mammal.  Zoologically  the  porcupines  are  allied  to  the 
cavies,  chinchillas,  agoutis,  &c.,  and  with  them  form  the 
great  section  Hystricomorpha  or  porcupine-like  rodents  (see 
Mammalia,  vol.  xv.  p.  420). 

The  Hystricidse.  are  readily  divisible  into  two  sub- 
families according  to  their  geographical  distribution,  the 
HyxtrKina  or  True  Porcupines  being  confined  to  the  Old 
VVorld.  and  the  Spieiherina  to  the  New.     The  Hystncina 


are  distinguished  by  their  serai-rooted  molars,  imperfect 
collar-bones,  cleft  upper  lips,  rudimentary  pollices,  smooth 
soles,,  sis  mammffi,  and  by  many  important  cranial  char- 
acters. _  They  range  over  the  south  of  Europe,  the  whole 
of  Africa,  India,  and  the  Malay  Archipelago  as  far  east- 
wards as  Borneo.  They  are  all  stout  heavily-built  animals, 
withblunt  rounded  heads,  fleshy  mobile  snouts,  and  coats 
of  thick  cylindrical  or  flattened  spines,  which  form  the  whole 
covering  of  their  body,  and  are  not  intermingled  with 
ordinary  hairs.  Their  habits  are  strictly  terrestrial.  Of 
the  three  genera  in  this  section,  the  first  and  best-known 
is  Hystr\x,  characterized  by  its  curiously  inflated  skull,  in 
which  the  nasal  chamber  is  often  considerably  larger  than 
the  bi-ain-case,  and  by  its  short  tail,  tipped  with  numerous 
slender  stalked  open  quills,  which  make  a  loud  rattling 
noise  whenever  the  animal  moves.  Its  longest -knov.u 
member  is  the  Common  Porcupine  {H.  a-istaia),  which 
occurs  throughout  the  south  of  Europe  and  North  and 
West  Africa,  but  is  replaced  in  South  Africa  by  H.  afi-icx- 
australis,  and  in  India  by  the  Hairy-nosed  Porcupine  (//. 
leucura),  whose  habits  are  described  in  the  following  notice 
extracted  from  Jerdon's  Mammals,  of  India. 

"  Bystrix  Icuctira  is  found  over  a  grea't  part  of  India,  from  the 
lower  ranges  of  the  Himalayas  to  the  extreme  south,  but  does  not 
occur  in  lower  Bengal,  where  it  is  replaced  by  if.  bengaUnsCs.  It 
forms  extensive  burrows,  often  in  societies,  in  the  sides  of  hills, 
banks  of  rivers  and  nullahs,  and  very  often  in  the  bunds  of  tanks, 
and  in  old  mud  walls,  &c.  &c.  In  some  parts  of  the  country  they 
are  very  destructive  to  various  crops,  potatoes,  carrots,  and  other 
vegetables.  They  never  issue  forth  till  after  dark.iut  now  and 
then  one  will  be  found  returning  to  his  lair  in  daylight.  Dogs 
take  up  the  scent  of  the  porcupine  very  keenly,  and  on  the 
Nilghirls  I  have  killed  many  by  the  aid  of  dogs,  tracking  them  to 
their  dens.  They  charge  backwards  at  their  foes,  erecting  their 
spines  at  the  same  time,  and  dogs  generally  get  seriously  injured 
by  their  strong  spines,  which  are  sometimes  driven  deeply  into  the 
assailant.  The  porcupine  is  not  bad  eating, — the  meat,  which  is 
white,  tasting  something  between  pork  and  veal." 

Besides  the  three  large  crested  species  of  Hystrix  above- 
mentioned,  there  are  some  four  or  five  smaller  species 
without  nuchal  crests  occuTring  in  north-east  India  and 
in  the  Malay  region,  from  Nepal  to  Borneo.  The  second 
genus  of  Old -World  porcupines  is  Athentra,  the  Brush- 
tailed  Porcupines,  much  smaller  animals  than  the  last,  with 
long  tails  tipped  with  bundles  of  peculiar  flattened  spines. 
Of  the  three  species  two  are  found  in  the  Malay  region 
and  one  in  West  Africa.  Trichys,  the  last  genus,  contains 
but  one  Bomean  species,  T.  lipura,  externally  very  like 
an  Atherura,  but  differing  from  the  members  of  that  genus 
in  many  important  cranial  characteristics. 

The  New-World  porcupines,  the  Synetlierina,  have 
rooted  molars,  comjjlete  collar-bones,  uncleft  upper  lips, 
tuberculated  soles,  no  trace  of  a  pollex,  and  four  mammae 
only.  Their  spines  are  to  a  great  extent  mixed  with  long 
soft  hairs;  they  are  less  strictly  nocturnal  in  their  habits ; 
and,  with  one  exception,  they  live  entirely  in  trees,  having 
in  correspondence  with  this  long  and  powerful  prehensile 
tails.  They  consist  of  three  genera,  of  which  the  first  is 
formed  by  the  common  Canadian  Porcupine  {Erethiion 
dorsaim),  a  stout  heavily-built  animal,  with  long  hairs 
almost  or  quite  hiding  its  spines,  four  anterior  and  fivo 
posterior  toes,  and  a  short  stumpy  tail.  It  is  a  native  of 
the  greater  part  of  Canada  and  the  United  States,  where- 
ever  there  is  any  remnant  of  the  original  forest  left.  Syn- 
eikeres,  the  second  genus,  contains  some  eight  or  ten  species,, 
known  as  Tree  Porcupines,  and  found  throughout  the 
tropical  parts  of  South  America,  one  of  them  extending 
northwards  into  Mexico.  They  are  of  a  lighter  build  than 
the  ground  porcupines,  are  covered  with  short,  close,  many- 
coloured  spines  often  mixed  viith  hairs,  and  their  tails  are 
always  prehensile.  Their  hind  feet  have  only  four  toes, 
owing  to  the  suppression  of  the  hallux,  but  instead  they 
have  a  peculiar  fleshy  pad  on  the  inner  side  of  the  foot 


P  O  R  — P  O  R 


519 


i 


between  ■which  and  the  toes  boughs  and  other  objects  can 
be  firmly  grasped  as  with  a  hand.  The  last  genus  is 
Chatomys,  distinguished  by  the  shape  of  its  skull  and  the 
greater  complexity  of  its  teeth.  It  contains  only  one  species, 
C.  STibspinosiis,  a  native  of  the  hottest  parts  of  Brazil. 

PORDENONE,  II  (1483-1539),  whose  correct  name 
was  GiovANKi  Antonio  Licinio,  or  Licino,  was  an  eminent 
painter  of  the  Venetian  school.  He  was  commonly  named 
II  Pordenone  from  having  been  born  in  1483  at  CorticeUi, 
a  village  near  Pordenone, — a  city  of  Italy,  in  the  province 
of  Udine  (Friuli).  He  himself  ultimately  dropped  the 
narae  of  Licinio,  having  quarrelled  wth  his  brothers,  one  of 
wham  had  wounded  him  in  the  hand ;  he  then  called  him- 
self Kegillo,  or  De  Kegillo.  His  signature  runs  "  Antonius 
Portunaensis,"  or  "De  Portuna,onis."  He  was  created  a 
cavaliere  by  Charles  V. 

As  a  painter  Licinio  was  a  scholar  of  Pellegrino  da  S. 
D.-miele,  but  the  leading  influence  which  governed  his 
style  was  that  of  Giorgione ;  the  popular  story  that  he 
was  a  fellow-papU  with  Titian  under  Giovanni  Bellini  is 
incorrect.  The  district  about  Pordenone  had  been  some- 
what fertile  in  capable  painters ;  but  Licinio  excelled 
tbem  all  in  invention  and  design,  and  more  especially  in 
the  powers  of  a  vigorous  chiaroscurist  and  flesh-painter. 
L'deed,  so  far  as  mere  flesh-painting  is  concerned  he  was 
barely  inferior  to  Titian  in  breadth,  pulpiness,  and  tone ; 
and  he  was  for  a  while  the  rival  of  that  great  painter  in 
public  regard.  The  two  were  open  enemies,  and  Licinio 
would  sometimes  affect  to  wear  arras  while  he  was  painting. 
He  excelled  Giorgione  in  light  and  shade  and  in  the  effect 
of  relief,  and  was  distinguished  in  perspective  and  ■  in 
portraits ;  he  was  equaUy  at  home  in  fresco  and  in  oil- 
colour.  He  executed  many  works  in  Pordenone  and  else- 
where in  Friuli,  and  in  Cremona  and  Venice  as  well ;  at 
one  time  he  settled  in  Piacenza,  where  is  one  of  his  most 
ojlebrated  church  pictures,  St  Catherine  disputing  with 
the  Doctors  in  Alexandria ;  the  figure  of  St  Paul  in  con- 
nexion with  this  picture  is  his  own  portrait.  He  was 
formally  invited  by  Duke  Hercules  II.  of  Ferrara  to  that 
court;  here  soon  afterwards,  in  1539,  he  died,  not  with- 
out suspicion  of  poison.  His  latest  works  are  compara- 
tively careless  and  superficial;  and  generally  he  is  better 
in  male  figures  than  in  female — the  latter  being  somewhat 
too  sturdy — and  tho  composition  of  his  subject-pictures 
i?  scarcely  on  a  level  with  their  other  merits.  Pordenone 
appears  to  have  been  a  vehement  self-asserting  man,  to 
v^hich  his  style  as  a  painter  corresponds,  and  his  morals 
were  not  unexceptionable.  Three  of  his  principal  scholars 
were  Bernardino  Licinio,  named  II  Sacchiense,  his  8on-in- 
Liw  Pomponio  Amalteo,  and  Giovanni  Maria  Calderari. 

The  following  may  bo  named  amone  Pordonone's  works : — the 
picture  of  3.  Luigi  (iiustiniani  and  other  Saints,  ori^anally  in  S. 
Maria  deir  Onto,  Venice  ;  a  Madonna  and  Sainti,  in  the  Venice 
academy  ;  tho  Woman  taken  in  Adultery,  in  the  IBerlin  museum  ; 
the  Annunciation,  at  Udine,  regarded  by  Vasari  as  the  artist's 
masterpiece,  now  damap;ed  by  restoration.  In  Hampton  Court  is 
a  duplicate  work,  tho  I'aintcr  and  his  Family  ;  and  in  Burghley 
House  are  two  One  pictures  now  assigned  to  Pordenone — the 
Fiuding  of  Moses  and  the  Adoration  of  the  Kings.  These  used 
to  bo  attributed  to  Titian  and  to  Bassano  respectively. 

PORIFERA.     See  SIponges. 

PORISM.  The  subject  of  porisms  is  perplexed  by  tho 
multitude  of  diS"erent  views  which  have  been  held  by 
famous  geometers  as  to  what  a  porism  really  was  and  is. 
This  article  must  therefore  be  limited  to  a  short  historical 
account  (1)  of  tho  principal  works  of  the  Greek  mathe- 
maticians which  we  know  to  have  been  called  Porisms, 
and  (2)  of  some  of  the  principal  contributions  to  the 
elucidation  of  these  works,  and  conjectures  as  to  tho  true 
signification  of  tho  term. 

Tho  treatise  which  has  given  rise  to  the  controversies  on 
this  subjcjt  is  the  Poncr^x'.  of  Euclid,  the  author  cf  the  I 


Elements.  For  as  much  as  we  know  of  this  lost  treatise 
we  are  indebted  to  the  CoUeclion  of  Pappus  of  Alexandria, 
who  mentions  it  along  with  other  geometrical  treatises, 
and  gives  a  number  of  lemmas  necessary  for  understanding 
it.  Pappus  states  that  the  porisms  of  Euclid  are  neither 
theorems  nor  problems,  but  are  in  some  sort  intermediate, 
so  that  they  may  be  presented  either  as  theorems  or  as 
problems ;  and  they  were  regarded  accordingly  by  many 
geometers,  who  looked  merely  at  the  form  of  the  enunciar 
tion,  as  being  actually  theorems  or  problems,  though  the 
definitions  given  by  the  older  writers  showed  that  they 
better  understood  the  distinction  between  the  three  classes 
of  propositions.  The  older  geometers,  namely,  defined 
a  theorem  as  to  TrpoTuvoinvov  th  aTroSa^iv  avrov  tov 
Tvporeivofjikvov,  a  problem  as  to  irpof3aKX6fi.ivov  tt's  koto- 
o-K£i')ji/    avTov    TOV   irpoTdvo/ievov,    and    finally    a    porism 

as    TO    7rpOT€iVOfl€l'OV  €tS  TTOpitTpAJV   aVTOV    TOV  TTpOTilVOfXCVOV^ 

Pappus  goes  on  to  say  that  this  last  definition  was 
changed  by  certain  later  geometers,  who  defined  a  porism 
on  -the  ground  of  an  accidental  characteristic  as  to  Acijroi' 
VTToOecrei  tottikov  Ofiopyp-aT^s- 

Proclus  gives  a  definition  of  a  porism  whicti  agrees  very 
well  with  the  fact  that  EucUd-used  the  same  word  Tropia/ia 
in  his  Elements  for  what  is  now  called  by  the  Latin  name 
"corollary."  Proclus's  definition  is  To  Se  vopitTjui  A«y«Tat 
fi^v  Itti  Trpo/3Xr]/j.dTiiiv  rivinv,  oTov  to,  EvkAci'&i  yiypa.ii.)ikva. 
TTOpLfTfiara.  AtytToi  5e  iStojs,  oral'  (k  tQv  dTroSfSiiyiiivinv 
ciAAo  Tt  fo-iii'o</)ai'7;  [<rvvaTro<jiavy  (?)]  deupyj/xa,  /iij  vpoOe- 
p-eviDV  rip-Zvj  o  Koi  Slo.  toCto  Tropurixa  KeKA7jKa(rt  ijcnrtp  ti 
kc/d5os  01'  Tijs  iina-TrjuoviKTJ^  diroSei^tuis  Trdpepyov  (ProcL, 
Comment.  EucL,  p.  58  ;  cf.  p.  80). 

Pappus  gives  a  complete  enunciation  of  a  porLsm  derived 
from  Euclid,  and  an  extension  of  it  to  a  more  general  case. 
This  porism,  expressed  in  modem  language,  asserts  that, 
Given  four  straight  lines  of  which  three  turn  about  the  points 
in  ivhick  they  meet  the  fourth,  if  ttvo  of  the  points  of  inter- 
section of  these  lines  lie  each  on  a  fixed  straight  line,  the 
remaining  point  of  intersection  will  also  lie  on  another 
straight  line ;  or.  If  the  sides  of  a  triangle  are  made  to  turn 
each  about  one  of  three  fixed  points  in  a  straight  line,  and 
if  two  of  the  vertices  are  made  to  move  on  ttco  fixed  straight 
lines,  taken  arbitrarily,  the  third  vertex  describes  a  third 
straight  line.  The  general  enunciation  applies  to  any 
number  of  straight  lines,  say,  (n-l- 1),  of  which  n  can  turn 
about  as  many  points  fixed  on  the  (re-f  l)th.     Thefre  n 


straight  lines  cut,  two  and  two,  in 


n(n  -  1 ) 


«(n-  1) 


2       pomta,  -    2 

being  a  triangular  number  whose  sido  is  (n-l).    If,  then, 
they  are  made  to  turn  about  the  n  fixed  points  so  that 

/       i\    /.  .»    •   n(n- 1)      .  ,  .  ... 

any  {n-l)  of  their  — ^— ^ — -  points  of  intersection  he  on 

(n-l)  given  fixed  straight  lines,  then  each  of  the  remaining 


joints  of  intersection, 


(n-l)(n-2) 


in  number,  describe.^ 


a  straight  line.  Pappus  gives  also  a  complete  enuncia- 
tion of  one  porism  of  the  first  book  of  Euclid's  treatise. 
This  may  be  expressed  thus :  If  about  two  fixed  points 
P,  Q  wo  make  turn  two  straight  lines  meeting  on  a  given 
straight  line  L,  and  if  one  of  them  cut  oif  a  segment  AM 
from  a  fixed  straight  lino  AX,  given  in  position,  wo  can 
determine  another  fixed  straight  lino  BY,  and  a  point  B 
fixed  on  it,  such  that  the  segment  BM'  made  by  the  second 
moving  line  on  this  second  fixed  lino  measured  from  B 
has  a  given  ratio  A  to  the  first  segment  AM.  Tho  rest 
of  tho  enunciations  given  by  Pnppus  are  incomplete,  and 
ho  merely  says  that  he  gives  thirty-eight  lemmas  for  tho 
three  books  of  porisms ;  and  these  include  171  theorems. 

Tho  lemmas  which  Pappus  gives  in  connexion  with  the 
porisms  arc  interesting  historically,  because  he  gives  (1) 


520 


P  O  B  I  S  M 


tne  fundamental  theorem  that  the  cross  or  anharmonic 
ratio  of  a  pencil  of  four  straight  lines  meeting  in  a  point 
IS  constant  for  aU  transversals;  (2)  the  proof  of  the 
harmonic  properties  of  a  complete  quadrilateral ;  (3)  the 
theorem  that,  if  the  six  vertices  of  a  hexagon  lie  three 
and  three  on  two  straight  Hnes,  the  three  points  of  con- 
course of  opposite  sides  lie  on  a  straight  line. 

During  the  last  three  centuries  this  subject  seems  to 
have  had  great  fascination  for  mathematicians,  and  many 
geometers   have  attempted  to  restore   the  lost  porisms 
lhu3  Albert  Girard  expresses  in  his  Traite  de  TrigonomHrie 
a  hope  that  he  wiU  be  able  to  restore  them.     About  the 
same  time  Fermat  wrote  a  short  work  under  the  title 
Porumatum  Euclidmoruvi  renovata  doctrina  et  sub  forma 
isagoges  recentioribus  geometris  exhibita.     He  seems  to  have 
concerned  himself  only  with  the  character  and  object  of 
i.uclid  s  work  ;  but,  though  he  seems  to  assert  that  he  has 
restored  the  work,  the  examples  of  porisms  which  he  gives 
have  no  connexion  with  those  propositions  indicated  by 
I'appus.     Fermat's  idea  of  a  porism  was  that  it  is  nothing 
more  than  a  locus.     We  may  next  mention  Halley,  who 
published  the  Greek  text  of  the  preface  to  Pappus's  seventh 
book  with  a  Latin  translation,  but  with  no  comments 
or  ■  elucidations,  remarking  at  the  end  that  he  has  not 
been  able  to  understand  this  descriptioa  of  porisms,  which 
(be  maintains)  is  made  unintelligible  ty  corruptions  and 
lacunas  in  the  text.     Robert  Simson  was  the  first  to  throw 
real  Lght  on  the  subject.     His  first  great  triumph  was 
the   explanation   of   the   only  three  propositions   which 
rappus  indicates  with  any  completeness.     This  esplana- 
iT?,'^\^  P^'^^^^^'i  in  tlie  Philosophical  Transactio,is  in 
U16;  but  Simson  did  not  stop  there.     After  his  first 
success  he  set  himself  to  investigate  the  subject  of  porisms 
generally,  and  the  result  appears  in  a  work  entitled  De 
Vorumatihus  tractatns ;  quo  doctrinam  .porismatum.  satis 
exphcatam,  et  in  posterum  ab  oblivione  tutam  fore  sperat 
''T°\-      ^'^  ^^°''^'  lio^ever,   was  not   published  untU 
alter  bimsons- death;  it  appeared  at  Glasgow  in   1776 
as  part  of  a  volume,  Poberti  Sivison,   matheseos  nuper  in 
atademta   Glasguensi  professoris,   opera   qusedam  reliqua. 
bimsons  treatise,  De  porismatibus,  begins  with  definitions 
ot  theorem,_  problem,  datum,,  porism,  and  locus.    Respect- 
ing the  porism  Simson  says  that  Pappus's  definition  is  too 
general,  and  therefore  he  will  substitute  for  it  the  foUow- 
ing :     Porisma  est  propositi©  in  qua  proponitur  demon- 
strare  rem  ahquam  vel  plures  datas  esse,  cui  vel  quibus, 
ut  et  cuilibet  ex  rebus  innumeris  non  quidem  datis,  sed 
qu«  ad  ea  quae   data  sunt  eandem  habent  relationem 
convenire  ostendendum   est  afi-ectionem    quandam   com- 
munem  in  propositione  descriptam.      Porisma  etiam  in 
torma  problematis  enuntiari  potest,  si  nimirum  ex  quibus 
data  demonstranda   sunt,    invenienda   proponantur"    A 
locus  (says  Simson)  is  a  species  of  porism.     Then  foUows 
a  ±.atin  translation  of  Pappus's  note  on  the  porisms,  and 
the  propositions  which   form  the  bulk  of.  the  treatise 
Ihese  are  Pappus's  thirty-eight  lemmas  relating  to  the 
porisms,  ten   cases   of  the  proposition  ■  concerning  four 
straight  hnes,  twenty-nine  porisms,  two  problems  in  iUus- 
tration,  and  some  preliminary  lemmas.    Playfair's  memoir 
{^rans.  Boy  Soc.  Edin.,  vol.  iii.,  1794)  may  be  said  to 
be  a  sort  of  sequel  to  Simson's  treatise,  having  for  its 
special  object  the  inquiry  into  the  probable  origin  of 
porisms,— that  is,  into  the  steps  wiich  led  the  ancient 
geometers  to  the  discovery  of  them.     Playfair's  view  was 
that  the  careful  investigation  of  all  possible  particular 
cases  of  a  proposition  led  to  the  observation  that  (1)  under 
certain  conditions  a  problem   becoraes   impossible-   (■>) 
under_  certain  other  conditions,  indeterminate  or  capable 
ot  an  infinite  number  of  solutions.     These  cases  could  be 
enunciated  separately,  were  in  a  marner  intermediate  be- 


tween theorems  and  problems,  and  were  called  "porisms* 
Playfair  accordingly  defined  a  porism  thus :  "A  propositior 
affarming  the  possibility  of  finding  such  conditions  as  will 
render  a  certain  problem  indeterminate  or  capable  of  in- 

°r'T^\'°'*i*'^"'-"      '^^'^   definirion,   he   maintained, 
agreed  both  with  Pappus's  account  and  Simson's  definition' 
the. obscurity  of  which  he  attempts  to  remedy  by  the 
following  translation  :  "  A  porism  is  a  proposition  in  which 
It  13  proposed  to  demonstrate  that  one  or  more  things  are 
given,  between  which  and  every  one  of  innumerable  othei 
thmgs  not  given,  but  assumed  according  to  a  given  law 
a  certain  relation,  described  in  the  proposition,  is  to  be 
shown  to  take  place."  i    This  definition  of  a  porism  appears 
to  be  most  generally  accepted,  at  least  in  England.     How- 
ever,  in   Liounlle's  Journal  de   mathematiques  pures   ei 
apphqnees   (vol.    xx.,   July,    1855)    P.    Breton   published 
/iecherches  nouvelles  sur  les  porismes  d'Eudide,  in  which  he 
propounded  a  difl^erent  theory,  professedly  based  on  the 
text  of  Pappus,  as  to  the  essential  nature  of  a  porism. 
Ihis  was  followed  in  the  same  journal  by  a  controversy 
between  Breton  and  A.  J.  H.  Vincent,  who  disputed  the 
interpretation  given  by  the  former  of  the  text  of  Pappus, 
and  declared  himself  in  favour  of  the  idea  of  Schooten, 
put  torward  in  his  Mathematics  exercitationes  (1657)  in 
which  he  gives  the  name  of  "porism"  to  one  section. 
According  to  Schooten,  if  we  observe  the  various  numerical 
relations  between  straight  lines  in  a  figure  and  write  them 
down  in  the  form  of  equations  or  proportions,  then  the 
combination  of  these  equations  in  all  possible  ways,  and 
ot  new  equations  thus  derived  from  them,  leads  to  the 
discovery  of  innumerable  new  properties  of  the  figure,  and 
bere  we  have  a  porism.     It  must  be  admitted  that,  if  we 
are  to  judge  of  the  meaning  by  the  etymology  of  the  name 
this  idea  of  a  porism  has  a  great  deal  to  recommend  it. 
VVe  must,  however,  be  on  our  guard  against  applying,  on 
this  view  the  term  "porism"  to  the  process  of  discovery, 
ine  Ureek  word  TropuTfx.a  should  no  doubt  strictly  signify 
the  result  obtained,  but  the  name  is  still  indicative  of  the 
process      The  porism  is  the  result  as  obtained  by  the  pro- 
cess which  IS  itself  the  cause  of  the  name.     So  great  an 
authority  as  Chasles  wrote  in  1860  (Les  trois  livres  de  por- 
ismesdEuchde)  that,  in  spite  of  the  general  assent  which 
^1,     n^  theory  met  with,  he  considered  it  to  be  unfounded 
The  Pormnsot  Euclid  are  not  the  only  representatives 
of  this  class  of  propositions.     We  know  of  a  treatise  of 
Diophantus  which  was  entitled  Porisms.     But  it  is  uncer- 
tain  whether  these  lost  Porisms  formed  part  of  the  Arith 
metics  or  were  an  independent  treatise.     Diophantus  refers 
to  them  in  the  Anthmetics  in  three  places,  introducing  a 
proposition  assumed  as  known  with  the  words  ixouiv  iv 
TOi^TTopca-ixao-iv.     These  propositions  are  not,  however,  all 
similar  in  form,  and  we  cannot  by  means  of  them  grasp 
what  Uiophantus  understood  to  be  the  nature  of  a  porism. 
So  far  as  we  can  judge  of  his  treatise  it  seems  to  have 
been  a  collection  of  a  number  of  ordinary  propositions  in 
the  theory  of  numbers,  some  of  them  being  mere  algebraical 
identities.    Again,  Diophantus  should  probably  be  included 
among  the  i/cwrepoi  who  are  said  to  have  substituted  a  new 
definition  for  that  of  the  ancients,  looking  only  to  accidental 
not  essential  characteristics  of  a  true  porism.     And  yet, 
in  so  far  as  Diophantus's  Porisms  had  no  connexion  with 
geometry,  they  do  not  in  the  least  conform  to  the  second 
definition  of  Pappus. 

We  have  by  no  means  exhausted  the  list  of  writers  who  Have  pro- 
pounded theories  on  the  subject  of  porisms.  It  must,  however, 
suffice  merely  to  mention  the  chief  among  the  rest  of  the  contribn- 
tions  to  the  subiect.     These  are,  besides  the  papers  of  Vincent  and 


I 
I 

{ 


This  view  of  porisms  is  known  exclusively  by  the  name  of  Play- 
fair,  though,  as  he  himself  says,  Dugald  Stewart  bad  several  years 
before  defined  a  porism  to  be  "a  proposition  affirming  the  rossibility 
of  finding  one  or  more  of  the  conditions  of  an  indeterminate  theorem." 


P  O  R  — P  0  R 


521 


Breton,  the  following  books  or  tracts  on  tho  Porisvis  of  Euclid  : — 
Aug.  liichter,  Porismcn  nach  Simsoii  bcarbeiUl  (EJbing,  1837) ;  Ch. 
Hoiisel,  "  Lcs  Porismes  d'Euclide,"  in  Liouvilh's'Jcnmal  dc  malM- 
maliqiies  purcs  el  apjiUquecs  (2d  ser.,  vol.  i.,  1856; ;  M.  Cantor, 
"Ueber  die  Porismcu  des  Euklid  und  deren  Diwnatoren,"  in 
Schliimilch's  Zeilsch.f.  Math.  u.  Phy.,  1857,  a.ai  Liternlurzcilung, 
1861,  p.  3  sq.  ;  Th.  Leidenfrost,  Die  Porismen  dcs  Euklid  (J'ro- 
gr.imm  der  Realschule  zu  Weimar,  1863)  ;  Fr.  Buchbina«r,  Sudids 
Porismen  und  Data  (Prograinm  der  kgl.  Landesschule,  Pforta, 
1866).  (T.  L.  H.) 

POROS,  or  PoRO  ("The  Ford"),  an  island  ofif  the  east 
coast  of  the  Jlorea,  separated  at  its  western  extremity  by 
only  a  narrow  channel  from  the  mainland  at  Trcezen,  and 
con.sisting  of  a  mass  of  limestone  rock  and  of  a  mass  of 
trachyte  connected  by  a  slight  sandy  isthmus.  The  town, 
which  is  at  the  head  of  an  eparchy  with  5414  inhabitants 
(1879),  has  its  "  houses  perched  among  the  volcanic  rocks," 
and  looks  down  on  the  beautiful  harbour  between  the 
island  and  the  mainland  on  the  south,  which  between  1830 
and  1877  was  the  seat  of  a  national  arsenal. 

The  ancient  Calauria,  with  which  Poros  is  identified,  was  given, 
according  to  the  myth,  by  Apollo  to  Poseidon  in  exchange  for 
Delos  ;  and  it  became  in  historic  times  famous  for  a  temjde  of  the 
sea-god,  which  formed  tho  centre  of  an  amphictyony  of  seven 
maritime  states — Hermione,  Epidaurus,  .ffigina,  Athens,  Prasis, 
Nauplia,  and  Orchomeuus.  It  «'as  there  that  Demosthenes  took 
sanctuary  with  "gracious  Poseidon,"  and,  when  this  threatened  to 
fail  him,  sought  the  more  inviolable  asylum  of  death.  Tho  build- 
ing was  of  Doric  architecture  and  lay  on  a  plateau  near  the  middle 
of  the  limestone  part  of  the  island,  which  now  contains  a  mon- 
astery. In  the  neighbourhood  of  Poros -Calauria  are  two  small 
islands,  the  more  westerly  of  which  contains  tho  ruins  of  a  small 
temple,  and  is  probably  tho  ancient  Sphsria^  or  Hiera  mentioned 
by  Pausanias  as  the  seat  of  a  temple  of  Athena  Apaturia.  It  was 
at  Poros  that  the  English,  French,  and  Russian  plenipotentiaries 
met  in  1828  to  discuss  tho  basis  of  tho  Greek  government. 

See  Chandler,  Travels:  Leake,  Morfa;  Le  Bas,  Voyage  archeolflgique ;  Curtius, 
Pehponresos;  PoiiiUon-Boblaye,  Recherches  :  Bursian,  Geographic  von  Griechen- 
latut;  aud  Raugab^,  "Eiu  Ausflug  nach  Poros,"  in  Deutsche  lieuuc,  1883.    . 

PORPHYRY,  a  name  originally  applied  to  a  reddish 
or  purple  rock  (■n-opil>i'peo%  purple)  found  in  Upper  Egypt, 
principally  at  Jebel  Dokhan,  and  much  used  by  the 
aocients  as  a  decorative  stone.  This  porphyry,  the  por- 
f:do  rosso  antico  of  Italian  antiquaries,  consists  of  a  dark 
crimson  or  chocolate-coloured  felsitic  base,  with  dissemi- 
nated crystals  of  white  felspar,  probably  oligoclase.  It  was 
a  favourite  material  with  Roman  sculptors  under  the  lower 
empire,  and  notwithstanding  its  excessive  hardness  was 
worked  into  large  sarcophagi  and  other  objects,  ornamented 
in  some  cases  in  elaborate  relief.  This  porphyry  was  also 
ingeniously  used  for  the  lower  part  of  tho  busts  of  Roman 
emperor.s,  the  head  being  executed  in  another  material, while 
the  porphyry  was  used  for  the  drajiery,  the  colour  of  the 
stone  suggesting  that  of  the  imperial  purple.  The  antique 
red  porpliyry  is  often  confounded  with  the  rosso  antico, 
which,  being  merely  a  red  marble,  is  a  much  softer  stone. 

The  terra  "porijhyry"  has  been  gradually  extended  to 
a  variety  of  rocks  w-hich  contain  distinct  crystals  of  any 
mineral  sprinkled  through  a  fine-grained  ground.  Among 
the  best  known  of  the  ancient  porphyries  is  the  porfido 
verde  antico,  or  lapis  Lacedxmonius,  a  beautiful  rock  with 
pale-green  crystals  of  Labrador -felspar,  found  at  Mount 
TaygetusintheMorca.  Thoraeaningof  tho  word  "porpliyry" 
has  become  so  vague,  in  consequence  of  its  application  to 
many  rocks  widely  differing  from  each  other  in  composi- 
tion, tliat  there  is  a  tendency  among  modern  pctrologists 
to  abandon  its  use  as  a  substantive,  and  merely  to  retain 
tho  adjective  "jiorphyrilic  "  as  a  convenient  designation 
for  all  rocks  which  cxhil)it  a  structure  like  that  of  tho 
ancient  por[ihyry.  Any  rock,  whatever  its  mincralogical 
composition,  may  therefore  become  porphyritic  by  contain- 
ing isolated  crystals  developed  in  a  compact  or  micro-crys- 
talline matrix.     Among  the  finest  rocks  of  this  class  in 

'  Snino  WTitcrs  identify  Calauria  with  one  half  only  of  Poros,  and 
consider  that  tlie  other  half  was  iu  autlquity  a  separate  island,  to  bo 
Wentillcd  with  Sphtcria. 


Britain  are  the  porphjritic  granites  of  Cornwall  and  of 
Shap  in  Westmoreland  ;  the  elvans,  or  quartz-porphjTies 
(see  vol.  X.  p.  233),  which  occur  as  dykes  cutting  through 
the  slates  and  granites  of  Cornwall ;  the  peculiar  rock 
termed  "  luxuUianite  "  (see  vol.  xi.  p.  49);  and  the  green 
and  red  porphyritic  felstones  of  Cumberland.  A  beautifid 
brown  porphyritic  felstone  occurs  at  Buchan  Ness,  on  the 
coast  of  Aberdeenshire  ;  while  a  rock  closely  resembling  the 
antique  green  porphyry  is  found  on  Lambay  Island,  near 
Dublin.     For  a  description  of  porphyrite,  see  vol.  x.  p.  234. 

PORPHY'RY  (c.  233-306).  See  Neoplatonism,  vol. 
xvii.  p.  336  sq. 

PORPOISE  (sometimes  spelled  Porpus  'and  Porpesse). 
The  word  is  apparently  derived  from  the  French  pore  and 
poiison,  or  the  Italian  porco  and  joesce,  and  thus  corresponds 
with  some,  of  the  English  vernacular  appellations,  "  hog- 
fish,"  "sea-hog,"  "herring-hog,"  and  the  German  Mter- 
schwein,  whence  the  usual  modern  French  name  of  the 
animal,  marsouin.  "Porpoise"  is  commonly  used  by  sailors 
to  designate  all  the  smaller  cetaceans,  especially  those 
numerous  species  which  naturalists  call  "  dolphins  " ;  but 
in  scientific  language  it  is  restricted  to  a  particular  form 
constituting  the  genus  Phocxna  of  Cuvier,  of  which  the 
Common  Porpoise  of  the  British  seas,  Phocstna  communis, 
Cuvier  {Delphinus  phocxna,  Linnaeus),  is  the  type.  The 
essential  characters  by  which  the  genus  is  separated  from 
the  other  members  of  the  order  Cetacea  are  described  in 
the  article  Mammalia  (vol.  xv.  p.  398). 

The  common  porpoise,  when  fidl  grown,  atrams  a  leiigth 


I'lO.  1. — Pliocana  communU. 

of  5  feet  or  a  little  more.  The  dimensions  of  an  adult 
female  specimen  from  the  English  Channel  were  as  follows : 
— length  in  straight  line  from  nose  to  median  notch  between 
the  fiukcs  of  tho  tail,  62i  inches ;  from  tho  nose  to  the 
anterior  edge  of  tho  dorsal  fin,  29  inches;  height  of 
dorsal  fin,  4i-  inches;  length  of  base  of  dorsal  fin,  8  inches; 
length  of  pectoral  fin,  9 J  inches;  breadth  of  pectoral  fin, 
3A  inches;  breadth  of  tail  flukes,  13  inches.  Tho  head  is 
rounded  in  front,  and  differs  from  that  of  tho  true  dolphins 
in  not  having  the  snout  produced  into  a  distinct  "beak  " 
sejiaratod  from  tho  frontal  eminence  by  a  groove.'  The 
under  jaw  projects  about  half  an  inch  beyond  tho  upper 
one.  The  aperture  of  the  mouth  is  tolerably  wide,  and  is 
bounded  by  stiff  inunobilu  lips,  and  curves  slightly  upwards 
at  tho  hinder  end.  Tho  eye  is  small,  and  tho  external 
ear  represented  by  a  minute  aperture  in  tho  skin,  scarcely 
larger  than  would  be  made  by  the  puncture  of  a  pin,  situ- 
ated about  2  inches  behind  the  eye.  Tho  dorsal  fin  is 
placed  near  the  middle  of  the  back,  and  is  lowand  triangular. 
Tho  pectoral  fins  are  of  moderate  size,  and  slightly  fitlcate.. 


522 


P  0  R  — P  O  R 


Fia.  2.— Teeth  of  Porpoise, 
natural  si2e. 


Twice 


The  horizontally-expanded  caudal  fin  is  of  the  form  common 
to  all  Cetacea.  The  external  surface,  as  in  the  rest  of  the 
order,  is  smooth,  shining,  and  devoid  of  hair,  though  in  the 
fcctal  condition  a  few  iDristles  are  found  near  the  nose. 
The  upper  parts  are  dark  grey,  or  nearly  black,  according 
to  the  light  in  Tvhich  they  are  viewed,  and  the  state  of 
moisture  or  otherwise  of  the  skin  ;  the  under  parts  are  pure 
white.  The  line  of  demarcation  between  these  colours  is 
not  distinct,  washes  or  splashes  of  grey  encroaching  upon 
the  white  on-  the  sides,  and  varies  somewhat  in  different 
individuals.  •  Usually  it  passes  from  the  throat  (the 
anterior  part  of  which,  with  the  whole  of  the  under  jaw,  is 
dark)  above  the  origin  of  the  pectoral  fin,  along  the  middle 
of  the  flank,  and  descends  again  to  the  middle  line  before 
reaching  the  tail.  Both  sides  of  the  pectoral  and  caudal 
fins  are  black.  The  anterior  edge  of  the  dorsal  fin  is  often 
furnished  with  a  row  of  small  rounded  horny  spines  or 
rather  tubercles  of  very  variable  number,  which  have 
been  thought  to  indicate  a  specific  distinction  between  the 
animals  possessing  them  {Phocsena  tuherndifera.  Grey)  and 
those  without  them, 
but  this  has  not  been 
confirmed  by  other 
characters.  One  of  the 
most  characteristic  ana- 
tomical distini;tions  be- 
tween the  porpoise  and 
other  members  of  the 
Delphinidx  is  the  form 
of  the  tee-th,  which 
(numbering  twenty-three  to  twenty-six  on  each  side  of  each 
jaw)  instead  of  the  usual  conical,  sharp-pointed,  recurved 
shape,  all  have  expanded,  flattened,  spade-like  crowns,  with 
more  or  less  marked  vertical  grooves,  giving  a  tendency  to 
a  bilobed  or  often  trilobed  form  (see  fig.  2) 

The  porpoise  is  sociable  and  gregarious  in  its  habits, 
being  usually  seen  in  small  herds,  and  frequents  coasts, 
bays,  and  estuaries  rather  than  the  open  ocean.  .  It  is  the 
commonest  cetacean  in  the  seas  around  the  British  Isles, 
and  not  unfrequently  ascends  the  river  Thames,  having 
been  seen  as  high  up  as  Richmond ;  it  has  also  been 
observed  in  the  Seine  at  Neuilly,  near  Paris.  It  frequents 
the  Scandinavian  coasts,  entering  the  Baltic  in  the  summer; 
and  it  is  found  as  far  north  as  Baffin's  Bay,  and  as  far 
west  as  the  coasts  of  the  United  States.  Southward  its 
range  i^  more  limited  than  that  of  the  common  dolphin, 
as,  though  very  common  on  the  Atlantic  coasts  of  France, 
it  is  not  knowTi  to  enter  the  Jlediterranean. 

It  feeds  on  fish,  such  as  mackerel,  pilchards,  and  herrings, 
of  which  it  devours  large  quantities,  and,  following  the 
shoals,  is  often  caught  by  fishermen  in  the  nets  along  with 
its  prey.  In  former  times  it  was  a  common  and  esteemed 
article  of  food  in  England  and  in  France,  but  is  now  rarely 
if  ever  eaten,  being  commercially  valuable  when  caught 
only  for  the  oil  obtained  from  its  blubber.  Its  skin  is  some- 
times used  for  leather  and  boot-thongs,  but  the  so-called 
"  porpoise  hides  "  are  generally  obtained  from  a  different  and 
larger  sjiecies  of  cetacean,  the  Behtga  of  the  northern  seas. 

A  closely  similar  if  not  identical  species  frojn  the  American 
coast  of  the  North  Pacific  has  been  described  under  the  name  of 
Phocseim  vomcrina,  and  another  from  the  mouth  of  the  Kio  de  la 
Plata  as  P.  spinipmnis.  Another  nearly  allied  form  is  Kcomeris 
phocasnoidrs,  a  small  species  from  the  Indian  Ocean  and  Japan, 
with  teeth  of  the  same  form  as  those  of  the  common  porpoise, 
but  fewer  in  number  (eighteen  to  twenty  on  each  side  of  each  jaw) 
and  of  larger  size,  and  more  distinctly  notched  or  lobed  on  tlie  free 
edge.  It  is  distinguished  from  the  common  porpoise  externally  by 
its  entirely  black  colour  and  the  complete  absence  of  a  dorsal  fin. 

POKPORA,  NiccoLA  (or  Niccolo)  Antonio  (1686- 
1767),  operatic  composer  and  teacher  of  singing,  was  born 
in  Naples  on  19th  August  I0S6,  and  educated  at  the  Con- 
aervatorio  di  Santa  !MarJa  di  I^oreto  by  Gaetano  Greco 


and  Francesco  MancinL  His  first  opera,  Bfisilio,  was  pro- 
duced at  Naples,  his  second,  Berenice,  at  Rome.  Both 
were  very  successful,  and  he  followed  them  up  by  in- 
numerable compositions  of  like  character ;  but  his  fame 
rests  chiefly  upon  his  power  of  teaching  singing — an  art 
in  which  he  has  never  been  surpassed,  if  even  equalled. 
At  the  Conservatorio  di  San  Onofrio  and  the  Poveri  di 
G«su  Cristo  he  trained  the  finest  voices  of  the  age. 
Farinelli — the  greatest  singer  who  ever  lived — Caffarelli, 
Mingotti,  Salimbeni,  and  other  celebrated  vocalists  owed 
all  they  ever  knew  to  his  teaching.  Still  his  numerous 
engagements  did  not  tempt  him  to  forsake  composition. 
In  1725  he  visited  Vienna,  but  the  emperor  Charles  VI. 
disliked  his  florid  style,  especially  his  constant  use  of  the 
trillo,  and  refused  to  patronize  him.  After  this  rebuff 
he  settled  in  Venice,  teaching  regularly  in  the  schools  of 
La  Pieti  and  the  Incurabili.  In  1728  he  removed  to 
Dresden,  where  he  was  received  with  great  cordiality  by 
the  electoral  princess  Maria.  In  1729  he  was  invited  to 
London  as  a  rival  to  Handel ;  but  his  visit  was  an  unfor- 
tunate one.  Little  less  disastrous  was  his  second  visit  to 
England  in  1734,.  when  even  the  presence  of  his  pupil, 
the  great  Farinelli,  failed  to  save  the  dramatic  company 
known  as  the  "  Opera  of  the  NobiUty "  from  ruin.  In 
order  to  fulfil  his  English  engagement  he  proctu-ed  a  release 
from  that  previously  contracted  in  Dresden  ;  but  he  finally 
quitted  London  in  1736,  and  again  settled  in  Venice. 
There  he  remained  until  1745,  when  he  returned  to  Vienna 
in  the  suite  of  the  Venetian  ambassador,  giving  lessons  in 
1754  to  the  young  Joseph  Haydn,  and  returning  in  1759 
to  his  birthplace,  Naples.  From  this  time  Porpora's  career 
was  a  series  ofmisfortunes.  His  last  opera,  Camilla,  failed; 
and  he  became  so  miserably  poor  that  the  expenses  of  hia 
funeral  were  paid  by  subscription.  Yet  at  the  moment 
of  his  death  (1767)  Farinelli  and  Caffarelli  were  living 
in  princely  splendour  on  fortunes  for  which  they  were 
indebted  to  the  excellence  of  the  old  maestro's  teaching. 

Porpora  was  a  learned  scholar,  an  accomplished  linguist,  and  a 
genial  wit.  Some  excellent  stories  are  told  in  illustration  of  this 
last-named  characteristic.  His  compositions  are  masterly  and 
brilliant,  but  less  remarkable  for  depth  of  feeling  than  for  technical 
display.  The  style  of  his  oratorios  and  cantatas  is  far  more  elevated 
than  that  of  his  numerous  operas. 

PORSENA  or  Poesenna,  king  of  Clusium.  Sea 
Eteueia,  vol.  viii.  p.  635,  and  Rome. 

PORSON,  Richard  (1759-1808),  Ln  some  respects  the 
greatest  of  modern  Greek  scholars,  was  born  on  Christmas 
Day  1759  at  East  Ruston,  near  North  Walsham,  in  Nor- 
folk, the  eldest  son  of  Mr  Huggin  Porson,  parish  clerk  of 
the  place.  His  mother  was  the  daughter  of  a  shoemaker 
named  Palmer,  of  the  neighbouring  village  of  Bacton. 
He  was  sent  first  to  the  village  school  at  Bacton,  kept  by 
Mr  John  Woodrow,  and  afterwards  to  that  of  Happisburgh, 
kept  by  Mr  Summers.  Here  his  extraordinary  powers  of 
memory  and  aptitude  for  arithmetic  were  soon  discovered ; 
his  skill  in  penmanship,  which  attended  him  through  life, 
was  very  much  due  to  the  care  of  !Mr  Summers,  who  be- 
came early  impressed  with  his  abilities,  and  long  afterwards 
stated  that  during  fifty  years  of  scholastic  life  he  had 
never  come  across  boys  so  clever  as  Porson  and  his  two 
brothers.  He  was  well  grounded  in  Latin  by  Mr  Summers, 
remaining  with  him  three  years.  His  father  also  took 
great  pains  with  his  education,  making  him  repeat  at 
night  the  lessons  he  had  learned  in  the  day.  He  would 
frequently  repeat  without  making  a  mistake  a  lesson  which 
he  had  learned  one  or  two  years  before  and  had  never  seen 
in  the  interval.  For  books  he  had  only  what  his  father's 
cottage  supplied — a  book  or  two  of  arithmetic,  Greenwood's 
England,  Jewell's  Apology,  an  odd  volume  of  Chambers's 
Cyclopxdia  picked  up  from  a  wrecked  coaster,  and  eight 
or  ten  volumes  of  the  Univei'sal  Maaazine. 


P  O  R  S  O  N 


523 


The  brilliant  promise  of  the  parish  clerk's  son  naturally 
became  known  to  the  clergyman ;  and  when  he  was  eleven 
years  old  the  Rev.  T.  Hewitt,  the  curate  of  East  Ruston 
and  two  neighbouring  villages,  took  charge  of  his  educa- 
tion, keeping  him  and  one  of  his  brothers  at  his  house  at 
Bacton  during  the  week,  and  sending  them  home  for  the 
Sunday.  Jlr  Hewitt  taught  him  with  his  own  boys,  taking 
him  through  the  ordinary  Latin  authors,  Cassar,  Terence, 
Ovid,  Tind  Virgil ;  before  this  he  had  made  such  progress 
in  mathematics  as  to  be  able  to  solve  questions  out  of  the 
Ladies'  Diary.  In  addition  to  this  Mr  Hewitt  brought 
him  under  the  notice  of  Mr  Norris  of  Witton  Park,  who 
sent  him  to  Cambridge  and  had  him  examined  by  Professor 
Lambert,  the  .two  tutors  of  Trinity,  Postlethwaite  and 
Collier,  and  the  well-known  mathematician  Atwood,  then 
assistant  tutor ;  the  result  was  so  favourable  a  report  of 
his  knowledge  and  abilities  that  Mr  Norris  determined  to 
provide  for  his  education  so  as  to  fit  him  for  the  university. 
This  was  in  1773.  It  was  found  impossible  to  get  him 
into  Charterhouse,  and  he  was  entered  on  the  foundation 
of  Eton  in  August  1774. 

Of  his  Eton  life  Porson  had  not  very  pleasant  recollec- 
tions, but  he  was  a  popular  boy  among  his  schoolfellows ; 
and  two  dramas  he  wrote  for  performance  in  the  Long 
Chamber  are  still  remembered.  His  marvellous  memory 
was  of  course  noticed  ;  but  at  first  he  seems  to  have  some- 
what disappointed  the  expectations  of  his  friends,  as  his 
composition  was  weak,  and  his  ignorance  of  quantity  kept 
him  behind  several  of  his  inferiors.  He  went  to  Eton  too 
late  to  have  any  chance  of  succeeding  to  a  scholarship  at 
King's  CoUege.  In  1777  he  suffered  a  great  loss  from  the 
death  of  his  patron  Mr  Nonis ;  but  contributions  from 
Etonians  to  aid  in  -the  funds  for  his  maintenance  at  the 
university  were  readily  supplied,  and  he  found  a  successor 
td  Mr  Norris  in  Sir  George  Baker,  the  well-known  phy- 
sician, who  was  at  that  time  president  of  the  college  of 
physicians.  And  chiefly  through  his  means  Porson  was 
entered  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  as  a  pensioner  on 
28th  March  1778,  and  commenced  his  residence  there  soon 
afterwards,  matriculating  in  April  of  that  year.  It  is  said 
that  what  first  biassed  his  mind  towards  critical  researches 
was  the  gift  of  a  copy  of  Toup's  Longinus  by  Dr  Davies, 
the  headmaster  of  Eton,  for  a  good  exercise ;  but  it  was 
Bentley  and  Dawes  to  whom  he  looked  as  his  immediate 
masters.  His  critical  career  was  begun  systematically 
while  an  undergraduate  ;  and  it  was  doubtless  during  the 
period  of  his  residence  at  Cambridge  that  his  marvellous 
stores  of  learning  were  laid  up  for  future  use.  He  became 
a  scholar  of  Trinity  College  in  1780,  won  the  Craven  uni- 
versity scholarship  in  1781,  and  took  his  degree  of  B.A. 
in  1782,  as  third  senior  optime,  obtaining  soon  afterwards 
the  first  chancellor's  medal  for  classical  studies.  The  same 
year  he  was  elected  Fellow  of  Trinity  CoUege,  a  very  un- 
usual thing  for  a  junior  bachelor  of  arts,  as  the  junior 
bachelors  were  very  rarely  allowed  to  be  candidates  for 
fellowships,  a  regulation  which  lasted  from  1667  when 
Isaac-  Newton  was  elected  till  1818  when  Connop  Thirl- 
wall  became  a  fellow.     Porson  graduated  M.A.  in  1785. 

Having  thus  early  secured  his  independence,  he  turned 
his  thoughts  to  publication.  The  first  occasion  of  his  ap- 
pearing in  print  was  in  a  short  notice  of  Schutz's  JEschylus 
in  Maty's  Review,  written  in  1783.  This  review  contains 
several  other  essays  by  his  hand.;  especially  may  bo  men- 
tioned the  reviews  of  Brunck's  Aristophanes  (an  admirable 
specimen  of  clear  and  vigorous  English,  and  containing  a 
very  able  summary  of  the  Greek  comic  poet's  chief  excel- 
lences and  defects),  Weston's  Hermesianax,  and  Hunting- 
ford's  Apology  for  the  Monostrophics.  But  it  was  to  the 
tragedians,  and  especially  to  ./Eschylus,  that  his  mind  vas 
thee  chiefly  directedL    He  began  a  correspondence  with 


David  Ruhnken,  the  veteran  scholar  of  Leyden,  requesting' 
to  be  favoured  with  any  fragments  of  .(Eschylus  that 
Ruhnken  had  come  across  in  his  collection  of  inedited 
lexicons  and  grammarians,  and  sending  him,  as  a  proof 
that  he  was  not  undertaking  a  task  for  which  he  was  un- 
equal, some  specimens  of  his  critical  powers,  and  especially 
of  his  restoration  of  a  very  corrupt  passage  in  the  Supplices 
(673-677)  by  the  help  of  a  nearly  equally  corrupt  passage 
of  Plutarch's  Erotietis.  As  the  syndics  of  the  Cambridge 
press  were  proposing  to  re-edit  Stanley's  ^schylus,  the 
editorship  was  offered  to  Porson;  but  he  declined  to 
undertake  it  on  the  conditions  laid  down,  namely,  of  re- 
printing Stanley's  corrupt  text  and  incorporating  all -the 
variorum  notes,  however  worthless.  He  was  especially 
anxious  that  the  Medicean  MS.  at  Florence  should  be  col- 
lated for  the  new  edition,  and  offered  to  undertake  the 
collation  at  an  expense  not  greater  than  it  would  have 
cost  if  done  by  a  person  on  the  spot ;  but  the  syndics  re- 
fused the  offer,  the  vice-chancellor  (then  Mr  Torkington, 
master  of  Clare  Hall)  observing  that  Mr  Porson  might 
collect  his  MSS.  at  home. 

In  1786,  a  new  edition  of  Hutchinson's  Aiialasis  of 
Xenophon  being  called  for,  Porson  was  requested  by  the 
publisher  to  supply  a  few  notes,  which  he  did  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  Rev.  W.  Whiter,  editor  of  the  Etyniologiam 
universale.  These  give  the  first  specimen  of  that  neat 
and  terse  style  of  Latin  notes  in  which  he  was  afterwards 
to  appear  without  a  rival.  They  also  show  already  his 
intimate  acquaintance  with  his  two  favourite  authors, 
Plato  and  Athenfeus,  and  a  familiarity  vith  Eustathius's 
conmientary  on  Homer.  ■ 

The  next  year,  1787,  the  Notx  brevi.iad  Toupii  Emenda- 
tiones  in  Suidam,  were  written,  though  they  did  not 
appear  till  1790  in  the  new  edition  of  Toup's  book  pub- 
lished at  Oxford.  These  first  made  Porson's  name  known 
as  a  scholar  of  the  first  rank,  and  carried  his  fame  beyond 
England.  The  letters  he  received  from  Heyne  and  Her- 
mann, still  preserved  in  the  library  of  Trinity  College, 
and  written  before  his  Euripides  was  published,  afford  a 
sufficient  proof  of  this.  In  his  notes  he  does  not  hesitate 
to  point  out  the  errors  of  Toup  and  others ;  at  the  same 
time  he  speaks  of  Toup's  book  as  "opus  illud  aureum," 
and  states  that  his  writing  the  notes  at  all  is  due  to  the 
admiration  he  had  for  it.  'They  contain  some  very  brilliant 
emendations  of  various  authors ;  but  the  necessity  of 
having  Toup's  owti  notes  with  them  has  prevented  their 
ever  being  reprinted  in  a  separate  form. 

During  this  year,  in  the  Gentleman's  Maganne,  he  wrote 
the  three  letters  on  Hawkins's  Life  of  Johnson  which  have 
been  reprinted  by  Mr  Kidd  in  his  Tracts  and  Criticimu 
of  Porson,  and  in  the  volume  of  Porson's  Correspondence. 
■They  are  admirable  specimens  of  the  dry  humour  so 
characteristic  of  the  writer,  and  afford  also  proofs  of  his 
intimate  acquaintance  with  Shakespeare  and  the  other 
English  dramatists  and  poets.  In  the  same  periodical,  iri 
the  course  of  the  years  1788  and  1789,  appeared  the 
Letters  to  Archdeacon  Trains,  on  the  spurious  verse  1  John 
V.  7  (collected  in  1790  into  a  volume),  which  must  be 
considered  to  have  settled  the  question  as  to  the  spurious- 
ness  of  the  verso  for  ever.  Gibbon's  verdict  on  the  book, 
that  it  was  "  the  most  acute  f^nd  accurate  piece  of  criticism 
since  the  days  of  Bentley,"  may  be  considered  as  some' 
what  partial,  as  it  was  in  defence  of  him  that  Porson 
had  entered  the  field  against  Travis.  But  in  the  very 
masterly  sketch  of  Gibbon's  work  and  style  in  the  pre- 
face Porson  does  not  write  in  a  merely  flattering  tone. 
It  is  to  be  wished  that  on  such  a  subject  the  tone  of  levity 
had  been  modified.  But  Porson  says  in  his  preface  that 
he  could  treat  the  subject  in  no  other  manner,  if  he  treated 
it  at  all :   "  To  peruse  such  a  mass  of  falsehood  aud 


524 


P  0  R  S  O  N 


sopnistry  and  to  write  remarks  upon  it,  without  sometimes 
givmg  way  to  laughter  and  sometimes  to  indignation,  was, 
to  me  at  least,  impossible."  Travis  has  no  mercy  shown 
him,  but  he  certainly  deserved  none.  One  is  equally 
struck  with  the  thorough  grasp  Person  displays  of  his 
subject,  the  amount  of  his  miscellaneous  learning,  and  the 
humour  that  pervades  the  whole.  But  it  was  then  the 
unpopular  side  :  the  publisher  is  said  to  have  lost  money 
by  the  book ;  and  one  of  his  early  friends,  Mrs  Turner  of 
Norwich,  cut  down  a  legacy  she  had  left  Porson  to  £30 
on  being  told  that  he  had  written  what  was  described  to 
her  as  a  book  against  Christianity. 

During  the  years,  that  followed  he  continued  to  contri- 
bute to  the  leading  reviews,  writing  in  the  Monthly  Review 
the  articles  on  Robertson's  Parian  Chronicle,  Edwards's 
Plutarch,  and  Payne  Knight's  Essay  on  the  Greek  Alphabet. 
He  gave  assistance  to  Beloe  in  one  or  two  articles  in  the 
British  Critick,  and  probably  wrote  also  in  the  Analytical 
Revieio  and  the  Critical  Eevieto. 

In  the  year  1792  his  fellowship  was  no  longer  tenable 
by  a  layman ;  and,  rather  than  undertake  duties  for  which 
he  felt  himself  unfit,  and  which  involved  subscription  to 
the  Articles  (though  he  had  no  difficulty  as  to  signing  a 
statement  as  to  his  conformity  with  the  liturgy  of  the 
Church   of  England  when  elected  Greek  professor),   he 
determined  not  to  take  holy  orders,  which  would  have 
enabled  him  to  remain  a  fellow,  and  thus  deprived  him- 
self of  his  only  means  of  subsistence.     He  might  have 
been  retained  in  the  society  by  being  appointed  to  a  lay 
fellowship,  one  of  the  two  permanent  lay  fellowships  which 
the_  statutes  then  permitted  falling  vacant  just  in  time. 
It  IS  said  that  this  had  been  promised  him,  and  it  was 
certamly  the  custom  in  the  coUege  always  to  appoint  the 
senior  among  the  existing  laymen,  who  otherwise  would 
vacate  his  feUowship.     But  the  master  (Dr  Postlethwaite), 
who  had  the  nomination,  used  his  privilege  to  nominate  a 
younger  man  (John  Heys),  a  nephew  of  his  own,  and  thus 
Porson  was  turned  adrift  without  any  means  of  support. 
A  subscription  was,  however,  got  up  among  his  friends 
to  provide  an  annuity  to  keep  him  from  actual  want ;  Mr 
Cracherode,  Mr  Cleaver  Banks,  Dr  Burney,  and  Dr  Parr 
took  the  lead,  and  enough  was  collected  to  produce  about 
£100  a  year.     He  accepted  it  only  on  the  condition  that 
he  should  receive  the  interest  during  his  lifetime,  and 
that  the  principal,  placed  in  the  hands  of  trustees,  should 
be  returned  to  the  donors  at  his  death.    When  this  occurred 
they  or  their  survivors  refused  to  receive  the  money,  and 
the  Porson  prize  at  Cambridge  was  founded  with  this  sum 
to  perpetuate  his  name. 

After  the  loss  of  his  fellowship  he  continued  chiefly  to 
reside  in  London,  having  chambers  in  Esses  Court,  Temple, 
—occasionally  visiting  his  friends,  such  as  .Dr  GoodaU  at 
Eton  and  Dr  Parr  at  Hatton.  It  was  at  Dr  Goodall's 
house  that  the  Letters  to  Travis  were  written,  and  at  one 
period  of  his  life  he  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  at  Hatton. 
While  there  he  would  generally  spend  his  mornings  in  the 
hbrary,  and  for  the  most  part  in  silence;  but  in  the 
evenings,  especially  if  Parr  were  away,  he  would  collect 
the  young  men  of  the  house  about  him,  and  pour  forth  from 
the  rich  stores  of  his  memory  torrents  of  every  kind  of 
literature— "  pages  of  Barrow,  whole  letters  of  Richard- 
son, whole  scenes  of  Foote,  favourite  pieces  from  the 
periodical  press."  The  charms  of  his  society  are  described 
as_  being  then  irresistible.  "Nothing,"  said  one  of  his 
friends,"  could  be  more  gratifying  than  a  t4te-k-tete  with 
tim ;  his_  recitations  from  Shakespeare,  and  his  ingenious 
etymologies  and  dissertations  on  the  roots  of  the  English 
language  were  a  high  treat."  "  Nothing,"  says  another, 
I' came  amiss  to  his  memory;  he  would  set  a  child  right 
va.  his  twopenny  fable-book,  repeat  the  whole  of  the  moral 


tale  of  the  Dean  of  Badajos,  or  a  page  of  Athensus  on 
cups,  or  Eustathius  on  Homer."  An  anecdote  is  told  of 
his  repeating  the  Rape  of  the  Lock,  making  observations 
as  he  went  on,  and  noting  the  various  readings ;  of  which 
one  of  the  company  said,  "Had  it  been  taken  down  from 
his  mouth  and  published,  it  would  have  made  the  best 
editioti  of  that  poem  yet  in  existence." 

In  1792  the  Greek  professorship  at  Cambridge  became 
vacant  by  the  resignation  of  Mr  Cooke.  To  this  Porson 
was  elected  without  opposition,  and  he  continued  to  hold 
It  till  his  death.  The  duties-  then  consisted  in  taking  a 
part  in  the  examinations  for  the  university  scholarships 
and  classical  medals.  It  was  said  he  wished  to  give 
lectures ;  but  lecturing  was  not  in  fashion  in  those  days, 
and  he  did  far  more  to  advance  the  knowledge  and  study 
of  the  Greek  language  by  his  publications  than  he  could 
have  done  by  any  amount  of  lecturing.  It  must  be  re- 
membered that  the  emoluments  of  the  professorship  were 
only  £40  a  year.  The  authors  on  which  his  time  was 
chiefly  spent  were  the  tragedians,  Aristophanes,  Athenceus, 
and  the  lexicons  of  Suidas,  Hesychius,  and  Photius.  This 
last  he  twice  transcribed  (the  first  transcript  having  been 
destroyed  by  a  fire  at  Perry's  house,  which  deprived  the 
world  of  much  valuable  matter  that  he  had  written  on 
the  margins  of  his  books)  from  the  original  among  the 
Gale  MSS.  in  the  library  of  Trinity  College.  Of  the  bril- 
liancy and  accuracy  of  his  emendations  on  Aristophanes, 
the  fragments  of  the  other  comic  poets,  and  the  lexico- 
graphers he  nad  a  pleasing  proof  on  one  occasion  when  he 
found  how  often  in  Aristophanes  he  had  been  anticipated 
byBentley,  and  on  another  when  Schow's  collation  of  the 
unique  MS.  of  Hesychius  appeared  and  proved  him  right 
in  "an  incredible  number"  of  instances. 

In  1795  there  appeared  from  Foulis's  press  at  Glasgow 
an  edition  of  .iEschylus  in  folio,  printed  with  the  same 
types  as  the  Glasgow  Homer,  without  a  word  of  preface 
or  anything  to  give  a  clue  to  the  editor.  Many  new  read, 
ings  were  inserted  in  the  text  with  an  asterisk  affixed, 
while  an  obelus  was  used  to  mark  many  others  as  corrupt, 
It  was  at  once  recognized  as  Person's  work ;  he  had  super- 
intended  the  printing  of  a  small  edition  in  two  vols.  8vo,  but 
this  was  kept  back  by  the  printer  and  not  issued  till  1806, 
still  without  the  editor's  name.  There  are  corrections  of 
many  more  passages  in  this  edition  than  in  the  folio ;  and, 
though  the  text  cannot  be  considered  as  what  would  have 
gone  forth  if  with  his  name  and  sanction,  yet  more  is  done 
for  the  text  of  Ji^schylus  than  had  been  accomplished  by 
any  preceding  editor.  It  has  formed  the  substratum  for 
all  subsequent  editions.  It  was  printed  from  a  copy  of 
Pauw's  edition  corrected,  which  is  still  preserved  in  the 
library  of  Trinity  College. 

Soon  after  this,  in  1797,  appeared  the  first  instalment 
of  what  was  intended  to  be  a  complete  edition  of  Euripides, 
— an  edition  of  the  Recuha. 


In  the  preface  he  pointed  out  the  correct  method  of  writing 
seyeral  words  previously  incorrectly  written,  and  gare  some  speci- 
mens of  his  powers  on  the  subject  of  Greek  metres.  The  n  ,tes  are 
very  short,  almost  entirely  critical ;  but  so  great  a  range  of  learn- 
ing, combined  with  such  felicity  of  emendation  whenever  a  corrupt 
passage  was  encountered,  is  displayed  that  there  was  never  any 
doubt  as  to  the  quarter  whence  the  new  edition  had  proceeded.  He 
expressly  avoided  the  office  of  interpreter  in  his  notes,  which  may 
well  be  wondered  at  on  recollecting  how  admirably  he  did  translate 
when  he  condescended  to  that  branch  of  an  editor's  duties :  "  si  qui3 
erat  locus  Anglice  exhibendus,"  says  Dobree,  "  turn  vero  omnes  in 
stu'jiorem  dabat." 

His  work,  however,  did  not  escape  attack ;  Gilbert  "Wakefield 
had  already  published  a  Tragcediarum  Delectus ;  and,  conceiving 
himself  to  be  slighted,  as'there  was  no  mention  of  his  labours  in 
the  new  Jlecuba,  he  wrote  .a  "diatribe  extemporalis"  against  it,  a 
tract  which  for  bad  taste,  bad  Latin,  and  bad  criticism  it  would  not 
be  easy  to  match.  And  Gottfried  Hermann  of  Leipsic,  then  a  very 
young  man,  who  had  also  written  a  work  on  Greek  metres,  which. 


P  O  R  — P  O  R 


525 


Dr  Elmsley  has  styled  "  a  took  of  which  too  much  ill  cannot  easily 
be  said,"  issued  an  edition  of  the  Hecuha,  in  which  Person's  theories 
were  openly  attaclied.  Person  at  first  took  no  notice  of  either,  but 
went  on  quietly  with  his  Euripides,  publishing  the  Orestes  in  1798, 
the  Phcenissss  in  1799,  and  the  Medea  in  1801,  the  last  printed  at 
the  Cambridge  press,  and  with  the  editor's  name  on  the  title-page. 
But  there  are  many  allusions  to  his  antagonists  in  the  notes  on  such 
points  as  the  final  y,  the  use  &f  accents,  &c. ;  and  on  v.  675  of  the 
Medea  he  holds  up  Hermann  by  name  to  scorn  in  caustic  and 
taunting  language.  And  it  is  more  than  probable  that  to  Hermann's 
attack  we  owe  the  most  perfect  of  his  works,  the  supplement  to  the 
preface  to  the  Beeuba,  prefijced  to  the  second  edition  published  at 
Cambridge  in  1802.  Person's  dislike  of  composition  made  him 
indolent,  but  he  came  forward  now  in  his  own  defence,  and  probably 
of  all  the  pieces  of  minute  criticism  that  have  appeared  on  those 
subjects  the  first  place  must  be  given  to  this.  The  beauty  of  the 
style,  the  steps  by  which  the  reader  is  carried  on  from  one  point 
to  another,  and  the  richness  of  illustration  make  it  one  of  the 
most  entertaining  of  diatribes.  The  metrical  laws  promulgated 
are  laid  down  clearly,  illustrated  with  an  ample  number  of  examples, 
and  those  that  militate  against  them  brought  together  and  corrected, 
so  that  what  had  been  heyond  the  reach  of  the  ablest  scholars  of 
preceding  times  is  made  clear  to  the  merest  tyro.  It  is  here  that 
the  laws  of  the  iambic  metre  are  fully  explained,  and  the  theory 
i)f  the  pause  stated  and  proved,  which  had  been  only  alluded  to  in 
the  first  edition.  A  third  edition  of  the  Hceuha  appeared  in  1808, 
and  he  left  corrected  copies  of  the  other  plays,  of  which  new  editions 
appeared  soon  after  his  death  ;  but  these  four  plays  were  all  that 
was  accomplished  of  the  projected  'idition  of  the  poet.  Person  lived 
six  years  after  the  second  edition  of  the  Eeeuia  was  published,  but 
his  natural  indolence  and  procrastination  led  him  to  put  off  carry- 
ing on  the  vork  till  death  put  a  stop  to  this  and  all  other  literary 
projects.  He  found  time,  however,  to  execute  his  collation  of  the 
Harieian  MS.  of  the  Odyssey,  published  in  the  Grenville  Homer  in 
1801,  and  to  present  to  the  Society  of  Antiquaries  his  wonderful 
conjectural  restoration  ef  the  Resetta  stone. 

In  1806,  when  the  London  Institution  was  founded 
(then  in  the  Old  Jewry,  since  removed  to  Finshury  Circus), 
he  was  appointed  principal  librarian  with  a  salary  of  £200 
a  year  and  a  suite  of  rooms ;  and  thus  his  latter  years 
were  made  easy  as  far  as  money  was  concerned. 

Among  his  most  intimate  friend!*  was  Perry,  the  editor 
of  the  Ifominff  Chronicle;  and  this  friendship  was  cemented 
by  his  marriage  wjth  Perry's  sister,  Mrs  Lunan,  in  Novem- 
ber 1796.  The  marriage  was  a  happy  one  for  the  short 
time  it  lasted,  as  Porson  became  more  attentive  to  times 
and  seasons,  and  would  have  been  weaned  from  his  habits 
of  drinking ;  but  she  sank  in  a  decline  a  few  months  after 
her  marriage  (12th  April  1797),  and  he  returned  to  his 
chambers  in  the  Temple  and  his  old  habits.  Perry's  friend- 
ship was  of  great  value  to  him  in  many  ways ;  but  it 
induced  him  to  spend  too  much  of  his  time  in  writing  for 
the  Morninff  Chronicle ;  indeed  he  was  even  accused  of 
"  giving  up  to  Perry  what  was  meant  for  mankind,"  and 
the  existence  of  some  of  the  papers  he  wrote  there  can  be 
only  deplored. 

For  some  months  before  his  death  he  had  appeared  to 
be  failing :  his  great  memory  w^as  not  what  it  had  been, 
an  J  he  had  some  symptoms  of  intermittent  fever ;  but  on 
19th  September  1808  he  was  seized  in  the  street  with  a 
fit  of  apoplexy,  and  after  partially  recovering  sank  on 
the  25th  of  that  month  at  the  comparatively  early  age  of 
forty-nine.  He  was  buried  in  Trinity  College,  close  to  the 
Etatue  of  Newton,  at  the  opposite  end  of -the  chapel  to 
where  rest  the  remains  of  Bentley. 

His  library  was  divided  into  two  parts,  one  of  which  was  sold  hy 
auction;  the  other,  containing  the  transcript  of  the  Gale  Photius, 
his  books  with  JIS.  notes,  and  seme  letters  from  foreign  scholars, 
was  bought  by  Trinity  College  for  1000  guineas.  His  note-books 
were  found  to  contain,  in  the  words  of  Bishop  Blomficid,  "a  rich 
treasure  ef  criticism  in  every  branch  of  classical  literature — every- 
thing carefully  and  correctly  written  and  sometimes  rewritten — 
quite  fit  to  meet  the  public  eye,  without  any  diminution  or  addi- 
tion." They  have  been  carefully  rearranged  ef  late  years,  and 
illustrate  among  other  things  his  extraordinary  penmanship  and 
jiower  of  minute  and  accurate  wTiting.  Much  still  remains  un- 
published, though  much  has  been  given  to  the  world.  Monk, 
Ills  successor  as  Greek  professor,  and  Blomficid  (both  afterwards 
bisliops)  edited  t!ie  Adversaria,  consisting  of  the  notes  on  Athenfcus 
•nU  the  Urcek  (loets,  and  his  prelection  en  Euripides ;  Dobreo, 


afterwards  Greek  professor,  the  notes  on  Aristophanes  and  tho 
lexicon  of  Photius.  Besides  tlicse,  from  other  sources.  Professor 
Gaisford  edited  his  notes  on  Pausanias  ami  Suidas,  and  Mr  Kidd 
collected  his  scattered  reviews.  And,  when  Bishop  Burgess  attacked 
his  literary  character  on  the  score  ef  his  Letters  to  Travis,  Professor 
Turton  (afterwards  Bishop  of  Ely)  came  forward  with  a  vindication. 

In  claiming  for  Porson  the  very  high  place  he  has  always  occu- 
pied among  Greek  scholars,  it  is  with  those  who  went  before  him 
that  he  must  be  compared,  if  we  would  judge  fairly  of  the  advaneca 
he  made  in  tho  knowledge  of  the  lancuaf,e.  'n  learning  he  was 
superior  to  Valckenaer,  in  accuracy  to  Bentley,  It  must  be  remem- 
bered that  in  his  day  the  science  of  comparative  philology  had 
scarcely  any  existence  ;  even  the  comparative  value  of  MSS.  was 
scarcely  considered  in  editing  an  ancient  author.  With  many 
editors  MSS.  were  treated  as  of  pretty  much  tho  same  value,  whether 
they  were  really  from  the  hand  ef  a  trustworthy  scribe,  or  what 
Bentley  calls  "scrub  manuscripts"  or  "scoundrel  copies."  Thus, 
if  we  are  to  find  fault  with  Person's  way  ef  editing,  it  is  that  ha 
dees  not  make  sufficient  difference  between  the  JISS.  he  uses,  or 
point  out  the  relative  value  of  the  early  copies  whether  in  MS.  or 
print.  Thus  he  collates  very  minutely  Lascaris's  edition  of  the 
Medea,  mentioning  even  misprints  in  the  text,  rather  from  its  rarity 
and  costliness  than  from  its  intrinsic  value.  And  his  wonderful 
quickness  at  emendation  has  sometimes  led  him  into  error,  which 
greater  investigation  into  MSS.  would  have  avoided  ;  thus,  in  his 
note  on  Eur.,  Fhcen.,  1373,  an  error,  perhaps  a  misprint  («  for  ya), 
in  the  first  edition  of  the  scholiast  on  Sophocles  has  led  him  into 
an  emendation  of  v.  339  of  the  Trachinix  which  clearly  will  not 
stand.  But  his  most  brilliant  emendations,  such  as  some  of  those 
en  Athena;us,  on  the  Supplices  of  jEschylus,  or,  to  take  one  single 
instance,  that  on  Eur.,  Helen.,  751  (ouo'  "EXtvot  for  ol'S/k  7e  ;  see 
Maltby's  Thesaurus,  p.  299),  are  such  as  convince  the  reader  ef  their 
absolute  certainty  ;  and  this  power  was  possessed  by  Person  to  a 
degree  no  one  else  has  ever  attained.  No  doubt  his  mathematical 
training  had  something  to  do  with  this  ;  frequently  the  process 
may  be  seen  by  which  the  truth  has  been  reached. 

A  ft  w  words  are  called  for  on  his  general  character.  No  one  ever 
more  loved  truth  for  its  own  sake  ;  few  have  sacrificed  mere  rather 
than  violate  their  consciences,  and  this  at  a  time  when  a  high 
standard  in  this  respect  was  not  common.  In  spite  of  his  failings, 
few  have  had  warmer  friends ;  no  one  mere  willingly  communicated 
his  knowledge  and  gave  help  to  others  ;  scarcely  a  book  appeared 
in  his  time  or  for  some  years  after  his  death  en  the  subjects  to 
which  he  devoted  his  life  without  acknowledging  assistance  from 
him.  And,  if  it  be  remembered  that  his  life  was  a  continued  struggle 
against  poverty  and  slight  and  ill-health,  rather  than  complain  that 
he  did  little,  we  should  wonder  how  he  accomplished  so  much. 

The  chief  sources  for  Person's  life  wiU  be  found  in  the  memoirs  in  the  Gentle* 
man's  Mafjazi-ne  for  September  and  October  1808,  and  other  periodicals  of  the 
time  (mostly  reprinU'd  in  Barker's  Porsoniajui,  London,  18JJ2) ;  Dr  Young's 
memoir  in  former  editions  of  the  Encydop/vdia  Britannica  (reprinted  ibid,  and 
in  his  woi-ks) ;  Weston's  (utterly  worthless)  Short  Account  o/  the  late  Mr  Richard 
Porson,  London,  1808,  reissued  with  a  new  preface  and  title-page  in  1814  ;  Dr 
Clarke's  narrative  of  his  last  illness  and  death,  London,  1808  (reprinted  in  the 
Chissifnl  Jou.-naJ) ;  Kidd's  "  Imperfect  outline  of  the  life  of  R.  P.,"  prefixed  to  his 
collection  of  the  Tracts  and  Criticisms;  Beloe'sScjaj/cnarian (not  trustworthy), 
vol.  i.,  London,  1817  ;  Barker's  Parriana,  vol.  ii.,  London,  1829  ;  Maltby's  "  Por- 
soniana,"  published  by  IJyce  in  tho  volume  of  lUcollections  of  the  Tabk-Talk  of 
Samuel  Rogers,  London,  18.'J6 ;  a  'life  in  tho  Cambridge  Essays  for  1857  by  H. 
R.  Luard  ;  and  a  lenRlhy  life  by  J.  S.  Watson,  London,  1861. 

Tlie  dates  of  Person's  published  works  are  as  follows  :  Notfe'in  XcnophontU 
Anabasin,  1766  ;  Appendix  to  Toup,  1790 ;  Letters  fo  Travis,  1780 ;  j£x\ytut, 
1795,  1806  ;  Euripides,  1797-1802  ;  collation  of  tho  Harieian  MS.  of  tho  Od\issey, 
1801;  Adversaria  (Monk  and  Blomfleld),  1812;  Tracts  a-nd  Criticisms  (Kidd), 
1815  ;  Aristophanica  (Dobree),  1820  ;  Nota  in  Pausaniam  (Gaisford).  1820  ;  PhotH 
Lexicon  (Dobree),  1822  ;  NolK  in  Suidam  (Gaisford),  1834  ;  Corrcspomlcnee  {Luanl, 
edited  for  the  Cambridge  Antiquarian  Socictv\  1867.  Dr  Turton's  vindicatioa 
appeared  in  1S27.  (H.  R.  L.) 

PORTA,  Baccio  della.     See  Baccio  della  Porta. 

PORTA,  GiAMBATTiSTA  DELLA  (.;.  1543-1615),  natural 
philosopher,  was  born  of  a  noble  and  ancient  family  at 
Naples  about  tho  year  1543.  In  early  youth  ho  travelled 
extensively  not  only  in  Italy  but  also  in  France  and  Spain, 
and  he  had  scarcely  emerged  from  boyhood  when  he 
published  Magiic  naturalis,  sit'e  de  miraculis  rerum  natur- 
alium  lib.  IV.  (1558),  the  first  draft  of  his  Mctgia  naturalis, 
in  twenty  books,  published  in  1569.  At  an  early  age  he 
founded  in  Naples  tho  Acadcmia  Sccretorum  Natune,  other- 
■wiso  known  as  the  Accadcmia  dei  Oziosi,  of  which  the 
history  has  been  briefly  .sketched  elsewhere  (see  Academy, 
vol.  i.  p.  70);  and  in  1610  ho  became  a  member  of  the 
Aceademia  dei  Lincei  at  Homo.  Ue  died  at  Naples  on 
4th  February  1615. 

Tho  following  is  a  chronological  list  of  the  principal  writings  of 
this  prolific  author : — De  miraculii  rcrum  naturalium,  in  four  books 
(1558) ;  De  fiirtivia  Utterarum  notin,  in  five  books  (1563,  and  fre- 
quently afterwards,  entitling  him  to  high  rank  among  tho  early 
writers  on  cryptography) ;  Magia  naturalis  (1009,  and  often  ro- 


526 


P  0  R  — P  0  R 


printed,  also  translated  into  English  in  1658,  into  French,  Spanish, 
and  other  languages) ;  Phylognomonica  (1583,  a  bulky  treatise  on  the 
physiology  of  plants  as  then  understood) ;  De  hmnana  physiogno- 
mania,  in  six  books  (1591) ;   Villa,  in  twielve  books  (1592  ;  an  inter- 
esting practical  treatise  on  farming,  gardening,  and  arboriculture, 
based  upon  his  own  observations  at  his  country  seat  near  Naples)  ; 
De  refractionc,  optias  parte,  in  nine  books  (1593)  ;  Pneumaiica,  in 
three  books  (1601) ;  De  ccelesti  physiojnomonia,  in  six  books  (1601) ; 
Elementa  curvilinea  (1601) ;  De  dislillatiane,  in  nine  books  (1604)  ; 
De  muniiione,  in  three  books  (1608) ;  and  De  aeris  Iraiismutation- 
ibxis,  in  four  books  (1609).     Porta  also  wrote  several  Italian  comedies 
(Olimpia,  1589  ;  La  Fantesca,  1592  ;  La  Trappolaria,  1597  ;  /  Due 
Fratelli  Sivali,  1601  ;  La  Sorella,  1607  ;  La  Chiappinaria,  1609  ; 
La  Carbonaria,  1628  ;  La  Cintia,  1628).     Among  all  the  above- 
cientioned  works  the  chief  interest  attaches  to  the  Magia  naluralis, 
in  which  a  strange  medley  of  subjects  is  discussed,  including  the 
reproduction  of  animals,  the  transmutation  of  metals,  pyrotechny, 
domestic  economy,  statics,  hunting,  the  preparation  of  perfumes  ; 
in  book  xvii.  he  describes  a  number  of  optical  experiments.     They 
include  a  description  of  the  camera  obscura.     If,  says  he,  a  small 
aperture  is  made  in  the  shutter  of  a  dark  room,  distinct  images  of 
all  exterual  objects  wiO  be  depicted  on  the  opposite  wall  in  their 
true  colours  ;  and  he  further  adds  that,  if  a  convex  lens  be  fixed  in 
the  opening  so  that  the  images  are  received  on  a  surface  at  the  dis- 
tance of  its  focal  length,  the  pictures  will  be  rendered  so  much  more 
distinct  that  the  features  of  a  person  standing  on  the  outside  of  the 
window  may  be  readily  recognized  in  his  inverted  image.    He  applied 
this  instniment  to  a  sort  of  magic  lantern,  the  representation  of 
eclipses  of  the  sun,  and  of  hunting  and  other  scenes,  battles,  and 
other  events  produced   by  movablo   pictures  and  drawings.     He 
considered  the  eye  as  a  camera  obscura,  the  pupU  as  the  hole  in  the 
window  contracting  and  dilating  with  difierent  lights,  and  the 
crystalline  lens  as  the  princiiial  organ  of  vision,  though  he  seems  to 
have  regarded  it  not  as  his  convex  lens  but  as  the  tablet  on  which 
the  images  of  external  objects  were  formed,  the  cornea  being,  no 
doubt,  in  bis  estimation,  the  part  of  the  eye  which  formed  the 
picture.     After  speaking  of  spectacles  and  the  like,  he  professed  to 
Know  a  combination  of  lenses  by  which  "  we  may  contrive  to  recog- 
nize our  friends  at  the  distance  of  several  miles,  and  those  of  weak 
sight  may  read  the  most  minute  letters  from  a  distance.     It  is  an 
invention  of  great  utility,  and  grounded  on  optical  principles,  nor 
is  it  at  all  diflicult  of  execution  ;  but  it  must  be  so  divulged  as  not 
to  be  understood  by  the  vulgar,  and  yet  be  clear  to  Uie  sharp- 
sighted."     The  obscure  description  which  follows  does  not,  how- 
ever, make  it  at  all  probable  that  he  had  really  anticipated  Galileo. 
In  iis  De  re/ractione  Porta   treats   of  binocular  vision.      He 
repeats  the  propositions  of  Euclid  on  the  dLsimilar  pictures  of  a 
sphere  when  seen  with  each  eye  and  when  seen  with  both  ;  and  he 
qjiotes  from  Galen  on  the  dissimilarity  of  the  three  pictures  thus 
seen.     But,  maintaining  as  he  does  that  we  can  see  only  with  one 
eye  at  a  time,  he  denies  the  accuracy  of  Euclid's  theorem  ;  and, 
while  he  admits  that  the  observations  of  Galen  are  correct,  he 
endeavours  to  explain  them  on  other  principles.     In  illustrating 
Galen's  riev\-s  on  the  dissimilarity  of  the  three  pictures  he' gives  a 
diagram  in  which  can  be  recognized  not  only  the  principle  but  the 
construction  of  the  stereoscope.     It  contains  a  view,  represented  by 
acircle,  of  the  pictui'e  of  a  solid  as  seen  by  the  right  eye,  of  the 
picture  of  the  same  solid  as  seen  by  the  left,  and  of  the  combina- 
tion of  these  two  pietuf  es  as  seen  by  both  eyes,  placed  between  the 
first  two  pictures.     These  results,  as  exhibited  in  three  circles,  are 
then  explained  by  copying  the  passage  from  Galen,  and  he  requests 
the  observer  to  repeat  the  experiments  so  as  to  see  the  three  dis- 
similar pictures  when  looking  at  a  solid  column. 

POET  ADELAIDE,  South  AustraJia.    See  voL  i.  p.  1 51. 

PORTADOWN,  a  market-town  of  Armagh,  Ireland,  is 
situated  on  the  river  Bann,  and  on  the  Great  Northern 
Railway,  25  miles  west-south-west  of  BeKast  and  10 
north-north-east  of  Armagh.  The  Bann,  which  is  connected 
with  the  Newry  Canal  and  falls  into  Lough  Neagh  about 
5  miles  north  of  the  town,  is  navigable  for  vessels  of  90 
tons  burden.  It  is  crossed  at  Portadown  by  a  stone 
bridge  of  seven  arches,  originally  built  in  1764,  but  since 
then  re-erected.  The  town  consists  of  a  principal  street, 
containing  a  number  of  good  shops  and  houses,  and  with 
several  streets  inhabited  by  the  working-classes  branching 
from  it  at  various  points.  The  only  public  building 
of  importance  is  the  court-house  and  news-room.  The 
manufacture  of  linen  and  cotton  is  carried  on,  and  there 
w  a  considerable  trade  in  pork,  grain,  and  farm  produce. 
The  manor  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  was  bestowed  on 
John  Obyns,  who  erected  a  mansion  and"  a  few  houses, 
which  were  the  beginning  of  the  town.     A  grain-maxket 


was  established  in  1780.     The  population  in  1871  was 
6735,  and  in  1881  it  was  7850. 

PORTALIS,  Jean  fiTiE^NE  M.ujle  (1745-1807),  French 
jurist  and  the  principal  author  of  the  Code  Civil,  which  as 
the  Code  Napoleon  has  been  declared  the  greatest  monu- 
ment of  the  reign  of  the  emperor,  came  of  a  bourgeois 
family,  and  was  born  at  Bausset  in  Provence  on  1st  April 
1745.    He  was  educated  by  the  Oratorians  at  their  schools 
in  Toulon  and  Marseilles,  and  then  went  to  the  universityf 
of  Aix ;  while  a  student  there  he  published  his  first  two 
works.  Observations  stir  £mile  in  1763  and  Des  Prejvgis 
in  1764.     In  1765  he  became  an  avocat  at  the  parlement 
of  Ais,  and  soon  obtained  so  great  a  reputation  that  ha 
was  instructed  by  Choiseul  in  1770  to  draw  up  the  decree 
authorizing  the  marriage  of  Protestants.     From  1778  to 
1781  he  was  one  of  the  four  assessors  or  administrators 
of  Provence,  and  in  1783  he  brought  about  the  countess  of 
Mirabeau's  separation  from  her  husband  in  spite  of  the 
impassioned  pleading  of  the  great  Mirabeau  himself.     In 
1788  he  protested  on  behalf  of  the  avocats  of  Aix  against 
Lom^nie  de  Brienne's  ]\lay  edicts,  but  in  the  following 
year,  probably  owing  to  jSlirabeau's  influence,  he  was  not 
elected  to  the  States-General.     He  entirely  disapproved 
of  the  great  changes  brought  about  by  the  Constituent 
Assembly ;  and,  after  refusing  to  be  one  of  the  royal  com- 
mission for  splitting  up  Provence  into  departments,  he 
retired,  first  to  his  country  house  and  then  to  Lyons,  and 
took  no  further  part  in  politics.      In  November  1793, 
after  the  republic  had  been  proclaimed,  he  came  to  Paris, 
and  was  thrown  into  prison,  being  the  brother-in-law  of 
Simeon,  who  was  the  leader  of  the  federalists  in  Provence. 
He  was  soon  removed  through  the  influence  of  Barere  to 
a  maison  de.sant^,  where  he  remained  undisturbed  till 
the  fall  of  Robespierre.     On  being  released  he  practised 
as  a  lawyer  in  Paris ;  and  in  1795  he  was  elected  by  the 
capital  to  the  Council  of  Ancients,  at  once  becoming  a 
leader  of  the  moderate  party  opposed  to  the  director}. 
His  reports,  however,  were  chiefly  on  questions  of  law 
reform,  and  he  commenced  the  labours  which  have  made 
his  name  famous.     As  a  leader  of  the  moderates  he  was 
proscribed  at  the  coup  d'etat  of  Fructidor,  but,  unlike 
Pichegru  and  Barb^-Marbois,  he  managed  to  escape  to 
Switzerland,  and  did  not  return  till  Bonaparte  became 
First  Consul.     Bonapsrte  knew  his  value,  and  made  him 
a  conseiller  d'etat  in  1800,  and  then  charged  him,  with 
Tronchet,  Bigot  de  Pr&meneu,  and  Jacques  de  Maleville, 
to-  draw  up  the  Code  Civil.     Of  this  commission  he  was 
the  most  industrious  member,  and  many  of  the  most  im- 
portant titles,  notably  those  on  marriage  and  heirship,  are 
his  work.     In  1801  he  was  placed  in  charge  of  the  depart- 
ment of  cnltes,  or  public  worship,  and  in  that  capacity  had 
the  chief  share  in  drawing  up  the  provisions  of  the  Con- 
cordat.    In  1803  he  became  a  member  of  the  Institute, 
in  1804  minister  of  public  worship,  and  in  1805  a  knight 
grand  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honour.     He  soon  after  be- 
came totally  blind ;  and  after  undergoing  an  unsuccessful 
operation  he  died  at  Paris  on  23d  August  1807. 

The  work  of  Portalis  appears  in  the  Code  Napolion,  but  see  also 
Frederick  Portalis's  DocuiuctUs,  rapports,  et  travaux  inidits  mr  le 
Code  Civil,  1844,  and  Sur  le  Concordat,  1845  ;  for  his  life,  see  tho 
biography  in  the  edition  of  his  (Euvres  by  F.  Portalis,  1823,  and 
Eene  LavoUee,  Portalis,  sa  vie  et  ses  auvres,  Paris,  1869. 

PORT  AU  PRINCE  (originally  L'H6pitai,,  and  for 
brief  periods  Port  Henei  and  Port  Repubucadj),  the 
capital  of  the  republic  of  Hayti  (western  portion  of  the 
island  of  Hatti,  q.v.),  lies  in  18°  34'  N.  lat.  and  72°  20' 
W.  long,  at  the  apex  of  the  vast  triangular  bay  which 
strikes  inland  for  about  100  miles  between  the  two  great 
peninsulas  of  the  west  coast,  and  has  its  upper  recesses 
protected  by  the  beautiful  island  of  Gonaives  (30  miles 
long  by  2  broad).     The  city  (an  archbishopric  since  the 


P  0  R  — P  O  R 


527 


concordat  of' 1860)  is  admirably  situated  on  ground  that 
soon  begins  to  rise  rapidly  towards  the  hilla ;  and  it  was 
originally  kid  out  by  the  French  on  a  regiilar  plan  with 
streets  of  good  width  running  north  and  south  and  inter- 
sected by  others  at  right  angles.  Everything  has  bee  a 
allowed  to  fall  into  disorder  and  disrepair,  and  to  this  its 
public  buildings— a  state-house,  a  national  bank,  a  hos- 
pital, a  lyceum,  a  custom-house,  &c.-rform  no  exception. 
The  national  palace  remains  as  the  flames  of  revolution 
left  it  in  1869,  and  the  president  lives  in  an  ordinary 
house.  The  principal  church  is  an  "overgrown  wooden 
shed."  Every  few  years  whole  quarters  of  the  town  are 
burned  down,  but  ibe  people  go  on  building  the  same 
slight  wooden  houses,  with  only  here  and  there  a  more 
substantial  warehouse  in  brick.  The  state  of  the  streets  is 
deplorable  in  the  extreme ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  old  French 
aqueduct,  the  water-supply  is  defective ;  while  the  harbour 
is  rapidly  being  filled  by  fetid  deposits.  From  June  to 
September  the  heat  is  excessiv/j,  reaching  95°  to  99°  in  the 
shade.  According  to  Ad.  Ackerman,  the  average  rainfall 
for  the  four  years  1864-67  was  61"35  inches,  distributed 
over  an  average  of  152  days.  The  population,  mostly 
Negroes  and  mulattoes,  is  estimated  at  20,000.  Port  au 
Prince  was  first  laid  out  by  M.  de  la  Cuza  in  1749.  In 
1751  and  again  in  1770  it  was  destroyed  by  earthquakes. 

See  Edgar  La  Selve  (professor  in  the  Port  an  Prince  lyceum),  in 
Tour  du  Monde,  1879,  and  Spenser  St  John,  Sayti,  or  the  Black 
RepublK,  1884. 

POET  ELIZABETH,  a  seaport  town  of  Cape  Colony,  at 
the  head  of  an  electoral  division  of  the  south-eastern  pro- 
vince, lies  in  33°  55'  S.  lat.  on  Algoa  Bay,  about  7  miles 
Eouth  of  the  mouth  of  the  Zwartkop  river.  Built  along 
the  base  and  up  the  rocky  slopes  of  the  hills  that  rise  for  a 
height  of  200  feet  above  the  bay,  it  has  rather  a  bare 
appearance  as  seen  from  the  water,  but  on  landing  the 
stranger  finds  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  prosperous  Euro- 
pean town  with  substantial  buildings  and  fine  streets.  A 
small  and  somewhat  muddy  stream,  Baker's  River,  divides 
it  into  two  parts,  that  to  the  east  being  mainly  occupied 
by  Malay  fishermen.  The  whole  length  of  the  place  is 
about  2  miles,  and  its  breadth  varies  from  a  quarter  to  1 
mile.  The  main  street  runs  up  from  the  harbour,  with  its 
large  wool  and  other  warehouses,  to  the  market-place,  which 
is  adorned  with  a  handsome  granite  obelisk.  Port  Eliza- 
beth owes  its  prosperity  to  the  fact  that  it  has  become  the 
great  emporium  for  the  whole  interior  of  the  country  to  the 
south  of  the  Zambesi,  being  the  terminus  of  the  Eastern 
and  Midland  Railways  which  run  inland  to.Graafif  Eeinet, 
Cradock  (182  miles,  since  1880),  and  Grahamstawn  (since 
1879).  The  two  great  hindrances  to  development  have 
been  want  of  drinking-water  and  want  of  protection  and 
convenient  landing-places  in  the  harbour.  The  former 
has  been  fully  met  by  an  aqueduct  (28  miles)  from  Van 
Staanden's  River  (1878;  see  J.  G.  Gamble's  Eeport  to 
Inst.  Civ.  Eng.,  1883),  and  the  harbour  was  improved  in 
1881  by  extending  the  old  landing-pier  to  a  total  length  of 
900  feet  and  constructing  a  similar  pier  800  feot  long, 
rho  value  of  the  imports  has  increased  from  £376,638  in 
1855  to  £4,001,658  in  1881  and  £2,364,891  in  1883; 
chat  of  the  exports  from  £584,447  in  1S55  to  £2,583,737 
n  1881  and  £2,341,123  in  1883.  The  exports  are  mainly 
Tool  (£1,508,280  in  1881),  ostrich  feathers  (£131,279), 
and  Angora  goat's  hair  (£267,596),  as  well  as  ivory,  hides, 
diamonds.  The  jwpulation,  which  wf.s  not  mudL  above 
4000  in  1855,  reached  13,049  in  1875.  The  town  dates 
from  1820. 

PORTER,  Jane  (1776-1850),  a  noveUst  whose  life 
and  reputation  are  closely  linked  with  those  of  her  sister 
Anna  Maria  Pohtee  (1780-18.32)  and  her  brother  Sir 
RoEEET   Ker'Pobtkr   (1775-1842).      Their   father,   an 


officer  in  the  English  army,  having  died  shortly  after  the 
birth  in  1776  of  the  younger  sister,  the  mother  removed 
from-  Durham,  their  birthplace,  to  Edinburgh,  where  the 
inherited  passion  for  the  romance  of  war  which  gave 
character  to  the  works  of  each  appears  to  have  been  stimu- 
lated by  their  association  with  Flora  Macdonald  and  the 
young  Walter  Scott.  To  develop  the  artistic  ability  dis- 
played by  the  brother,  the  family  moved  in  1790  to  London, 
and  the  sisters  subsequently  resided  at  Thames  Ditton  and 
at  Esher  with  their  mother  until  her  death  in  1831.  The 
ability  of  Anna  Maria  Porter  was  the  first  to  manifest 
itself  in  the  premature  publication  of  her  Artless  Tales 
(1793-95),  these  being  foUowed  by  a  long  series  of  works, 
of  which  the  more  noteworthy  are  Walsh  Colville  (1797), 
Octavia  (1798),  The  Lake  of  Killame?/  (1804),  A  Sailor's 
Friendship  and  a  Soldier's  Love  (1805),  Tlie  Hungarian 
Brothers  (1807),  Don  Sebastian  (1809),  Ballads,  Romances, 
and  other  Poems  (1811),  Tlie  Recluse  of  Norway  (1814), 
The  Knight  of  St  John  (1817),  The  Fast  of  St  Magdalen 
(1818),  The  Village  of  Mariendorpt  (1821),  Roche  Blanche 
(1822),  Honor  O'Hara  (1826),  and  Barony  (1830).  Jane 
Porter,  whose  intellectual  power,  though  slower  in  deve- 
lopment and  in  expression,  was  of  a  stronger  nature  than 
that  of  her  sister,  had  in  the  meantime  gained  an  immediate 
and  wide  popularity  by  her  first  work,  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw 
(1803),  which  was  translated  into  several  languages  and 
procured  her  election  as  canoness  of  the  Teutonic  order  of 
St  Joachim.  Seven  years  later  her  Scottish  Chiefs  anti- 
cipated in  some  measure  the  works  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  in 
the  field  of  national  romance,  though  it  is  wanting  in  the 
higher  qualities  of  the  historic  novel.  Her  chief  subse- 
quent works  were  The  Pastor's  Fireside  (1815),  Duke 
Christian  of  Luneburg  (1824),  Coming  Out  (1828),  and 
The  Field  of  Forty  Footsteps  (1828).  In  conjunction  with 
her  sister  she  published  in  1826  the  Tales  round  a  Winter 
Hearth,  and  the  intervals  between  her  larger  works  were 
fUled  up  with  frequent  contributions  to  current  periodical 
literature.  Sir  Edward  Seaward's  Diary  (1831) — a  work 
displaying  considerable  skill  in  the  realistic  reproduction 
of  the  style  and  mode  of  thought  of  an  earlier  period — 
has  been  persistently,  though  erroneously,  attributed  to 
her.  The  claim  of  her  eldest  brother,  Dr  William  Ogilvie 
Porter,  tc  its  authorship  has  been  fully  established,  her 
share  in  its  publication  having  been  solely  that  of  editor. 
In  1832  Anna  Maria  died,  and  for  the  nest  ten  years  Jane 
became  "a  wanderer"  amongst  her  relations  and  friends. 

While  his  sisters  had  been  winning  esteem  in  literature, 
Robert  Ker  Porter  had  in  his  own  way  been  scarcely  less 
successful.  After  two  years  pf  study  at  the  Royal  Academy 
he  had  gained  reputation  as  a  painter  of  altar-pieces  and 
battle-scenes  of  imposing  magnitude.  He  went  to  Russia 
as  historical  painter  to  the  emperor  in  1804,  accompanied 
Sir  John  Moore's  expedition  in  1808,  married  the  princess 
Maryde  Sherbatoffin  1811,  was  created  knight  commander 
of  the  order  of  Hanover  in  1832,  and  became  British  consul 
at  Venezuela.  Accounts  of  his  wanderings  are  to  be  found 
in  his  Travelling  Sketches  in  Russia  and  Sweden  (1808), 
Letters  from  Portugal  and  Spain  (1809),  Narrative  of  the 
late  Campaign  in  Russia  (1813),  and  Travels  in  Oeorgia, 
Persia,  Armenia,  Anaent  Babylonia,  etc.,  during  tht  years 
1817-W  (1821-22)..  After  leaving  Venezuela  he  again 
visits  St  Petersburg,  but  died  there  suddenly  on  4th  May 
1842.  Jane  Porter,  who  had  joined  him  in  Russia,  then 
returned  to  England  and  took  up  her  residence  with  her 
eldest  brother  at  Bristol,  where  she  died,  24th  May  1860. 

PORT  GLASGOW,  a  seaport,  market-town,  burgh  of 
barony,  and  parliamentary  borgh  of  Renfrewshire,  Scot- 
land, is  Bituat'Cd  on  the  south  side  of  the  Clyde,  2i  miles 
east  of  Greenock  and  20  west  of  Glasgow.  The  elevated 
ridges  to  the  back  of  the  town  afe  clothed  with  trees, 


528 


P  O  R  — P  O  K 


their  lower  slopes  being  occupied  with  villas.  The  streets 
are  wide,  regular,  and  well-paved.  The  principal  buildings 
are  the  court-house  in  the  Grecian  style,  the  town-haU,  and 
the  custom-house.  On  the  adjoining  slopes  to  the  east  are 
the  picturesque  ruins  of  Newark  Castle,  the  ancient  seat  of 
the  Maxwells.  There  are  large  and  commodious  harbours, 
a  wet  dock,  and  a  graving  dock.  The  port  carries  on  an 
extensive  trade  with  British  North' America,  the  United 
States,  the  Indies,  and  the  Levant,  the  principal  exports 
being  iron,  steel,  machinery,  and  textile  manufactures. 
The  trade,  though  checked  for  a  time  by  the  rapid  progress 
of  Greenock,  has  been  for  some  years  on  the  increase. 
The  shipbuilding-yards  give  emplojTnent  to  a  large  number 
of  persons  both  in  the  town  and  the  neighbouring  burgh 
of  Greenock.  Connected  with  the  shipbuilding  industry 
there  are  manufactures  of  sail-cloth,  ropes,  anchors,  and 
chain  cables,  also  engineering  and  riveting  works,  and  iron 
and  brass  foundries.  The  population  of  the  police  burgh 
in  1851  was  6986,  which  in  1871  had  increased  to  10,823, 
and  in  1881  to  13,224.  The  population  of  the  parlia- 
mentary burgh  in  1881  was  10,802. 

Originally  the  district  formed  part  of  the  adjoining  parish  of 
Kilmalcolm,  the  nucleus  of  the  town  being  the  small  village  of 
Newark  attached  to  the  barony  of  that  name.  In  1688  it  was 
purchased  from  Sir  Patrick  Ma.xwell  of  Newark  by  the  magistrates 
of  Glasgow,  to  provide  a  convenient  harbour  for  vessels  belonging 
to  the  city.  In  1695  it  was  disjoined  from  Kilmalcolm  and  erected 
into  a  separate  parish  under  the  name  of  New  Port  Glasgow,  after- 
wards Port  Glasgow.  In  1710  it  was  made  the  chief  custom-house 
port  for  the  Clyde,  but  is  now  under  the  control  of  the  Greenock 
office;  and  in  1775  it  was  created  a  burgh  of  barony.  Under 
the  Municipal  Act  of  1883  the  town  is  governed  by  a  provost,  two 
bailies,  and  six  councillors.  Since  the  hrst  Reform  Act  it  has  been 
included  in  the  Kibnamock  parliamentary  district  of  burghs. 

PORT  HOPE,  a  town  and  port  of  entry  of  Canada,  in 
Durham  county,  Ontario,  on  the  north  shore  of  Lake 
Ontario,  lies  63  miles  north-east  of  Toronto  by  the  Grand 
Trunk  Railway  (which  is  there  met  by  the  midland  branch 
of  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway),  and  is  connected  with 
Charlotte,  the  port  of  Rochester,  New  York,  by  a  daily 
steamboat  service.  The  town  is  picturesquely  situated  on 
the  side  and  at  the  foot  of  hills  overlooking  the  lake ;  and 
Smith's  Creek,  by  which  it  is  traversed,  supplies  abundant 
water-power.  Flour,  plaster,  woollen  goods,  leather,  beer, 
carriages,  agricultural  implements,  and  steam-engines  and 
boilers  are  among  the  objects  of  the  local  industries,  and 
trade  is  carried  on  in  lumber,  grain,  and  flour.  The  value 
of  the  exports  was  $1,326,706  in  the  year  ending  30th 
June  1884,  and  that  of  the  imports  $221,830.  The  popu- 
lation in  1881  was  5585. 

PORT  HURON,  a  city  and  port  of  ..entry  of  the  United 
States,  county  seat  of  St  Clair  county,  Michigan,  lies  58 
miles  by  rail  north-east  of  Detroit,  at  the  southern  extremity 
of  Lake  Huron  and  on  the  west  bank  of  the  St  Clair  river, 
which  is  there  joined  by  the  Black  river.  Port  Huron  is 
a  point  of  great  importance  in  the  railway  system,  being 
the  terminus  of  the  Chicago  and  Grand  Trunk  and  the 
Port  Huron  and  North- Western  Railways  (lines  to  East 
Saginaw,  Sand  Beach,  ALmont,  and  Port  Austin),  and 
connected  by  ferry  to  Sarnia  with  the  Great  Western  of 
Canada  and  the  Grand  Trunk  Railways.  It  is  also  the 
terminus  and  a  stopping-place  of  several  lines  of  lake 
steamers.  It  has  a  large  lumber  trade,  ship -yards,  dry 
docks,  saw-miUs,  flour-mills,  planing-mills.  The  population 
was  5973  in  1870,  8883  in  1880,  and  10,396  in  1884. 
Commenced  in  1819,  Port  Huron  was  incorporated  as  a 
village  in  1835,  and  as  a  city  in  1857. 

PORTICI,  a  town  of  Italy,  5  miles  south  of  Naples,  on 
the  shores  of  the  bay  and  at  the  foot  of  Vesuvius,  a  little 
to  the  'north  of  the  site  of  Herculaneum.  It  is  traversed 
by  the  high  road  and  the  railway  from  Naples  (only  5 
miles  distant)  to  Salerno.     The  palace,  erected  in  1737, 


once  contained  the  Herculanean  antiquities,  now  removed 
to  Naples,  and  since  1882  it  has  been  a  school  of  agriculture. 
There  is  a  small  harbour.  The  population  (9963  in  the 
town  in  1881,  and  12,709  in  the  commune,  which  includes 
Addolorata)  is  partly  engaged  in  the  fisheries,  silk-growing, 
and  silk-weaving. 

PORT  JERVIS,-  a  large  viUage  of  the  United  States, 
in  Deerpark  township.  Orange  county,  New  York,  situated 
at  the  intersection  of  the  boundaries  of  New  Jersey,  New 
York,  and  Pennsylvania,  at  the  junction  of  the  Neversink 
with  the  Delaware.  It  is  the  terminus  of  the  eastern  divi- 
sion of  the  New  York,  Lake  Erie,  and  Western  Railroad, 
and  of  the  Port  Jervis  and  MonticeUo  Railroad,  and  it  has 
extensive  repair-shops.  The  beauty  of  the  surrounding 
scenery  attracts  summer  visitors.  Port  Jervis  was  named 
after  John  B.  Jervis,  engineer  of  the  Delaware  and  Hudson 
Canal,  which  connects  the  Pennsylvanian  coal-fields  with 
the  tidal  waters  of  the  Hudson.  In  1875  the  Erie  Railway 
bridge,  the  Barrett  bridge,  and  many  buildings  were  carried 
away  by  an  icegorge.  The  population  of  the  village  was 
6377  in  1870,  and  8678  in  1880  (township  11,420). 

PORTLAND,  a  city  and  port  of  entry  of  the  United 
States,  capital  of  Cumberland  county,  Maine,  lies  on  Casco 
Bay,  in  43°  39'  N.  lat.  and  70°  13'  W.  long.  By  rail  it 
is  108  miles  north-north-east  of  Boston  and  297  south- 
east of  Montreal.  The  pen- 
insula on  which  it  is  mainly 
built  runs  out  for  about  3 
miles,  has  a  breadth  of  about 
f  mile,  and  rises  in  the  west 
to  175  feet  in  BramhaU's  HUl 
and  in  the  east  to  161  in  Nun- 
joy's  Hill,  which  is  crowned 
by  an  observatory.  As  seen 
from  the  harbour,  the  whole 
city  has  a  pleasant  and  pic- 
turesque appearance,  and  the 
streets  are  in  many  parts  so 
umbrageous  with  trees  that  Fio-  1.— Environs  of  Portland. 
Portland  has  obtained  the  sobriquet  of  the  "  Forest  City." 
A  large  number  of  the  houses  are  built  of  brick.  Congress 
street,  the  principal  thoroughfare,  runs  along  the  whole 
ridge  of  the  peninsula,  from  the  western  promenade,  which 
looks  down  over  the  suburbs  from  BramhaU's  Hill  to  the 
eastern  promenade,  which  commands  the  bay ;  it  passes 
Lincoln  Park  (2J  acres)  and  the  eastern  cemetery,  which 
contains  the  graves  of  Commodore  Preble  and  Captains 
Burroughs  and  Blythe,  of  Revolutionary  fame.  On  Bram- 
haU's HiU  is  the  reservoir  (12,000,000  gallons)  of  the 
water  company,  which  was  estabUshed  in  1867  to  supply 
the  city  from  Lake  Sebago,  whose  beautiful  expanse  (14 
miles  long  by  1 1  wide)  was  the  favourite  haunt  of  Nathaniel 
Hawthorne's  boyhood.  The  more  conspicuous  buildings 
of  Portland  are  the  city  haU  (1859),  with  a  front  in  oUve- 
coloured  freestone,  150  feet  long ;  the  post^oflSce  (1872), 
constructed  of  Vermont  white  marble  in  the  mediaeval 
ItaUan  style;  the  custom-house  (1872),  in  granite,  with 
rich  marble  ornamentation  in  the  interior ;  the  marine 
hospital  (1855),  a  large  brick  erection ;  the  Maine  general 
hospital,  1868  ;  the  Roman  CathoUc  cathedral ;  the  Roman 
Catholic  episcopal  palace  ;  and  several  fine  churches.  The 
Portland  Society  of  Natural  History,  established  in  1843 
and  incorporated  in  1850,  though  it  has  twice  lost  its 
property  by  fire  (1854  and  1866),  has  again  acquired  very 
valuable'  coUections.  The  Portland  institute  and  pubUc 
library,  dating  from  1867,  had  30,000  volumes  in  1884. 
A  medical  school  was  founded  in  1858.  Portland  is  in 
the  main  a  commercial  city,  with  an  extensive  transit 
trade,  drawing  largely  from  Canada  and  the  Far  West, 
Connected  with  Boston  by  rail  in  1842,  and  with  Montreal 


PORTLAND 


529 


in  1853,  it  has"  now  become  a  terminus  of  six  different 
railroads ;  and,  since  the  gauge  of  the  Grand  Trunk  Kail- 
road  was  altered,  it  can  import  direct  from  San  Francisco. 
As  the  harbour  (which  lies  along  the  south  side  of  the 
city)  is  seldom  closed  by  ice,  it  has  been  long  used  as  the 
winter  port  for  the  great  ocean  steamers,  between  Great 
Britain  (Liverpool  and  Glasgow)  and  Canada,  which  in 
summer  ascend  the  St  Lawrence  to  Montreal  and  Quebec. 
At  low  ivater  vessels  drawing  22  feet  and  at  high  water 
vessels  drawing  30  feet  can  come  up  to  the  wharves  with 


Fia.  2.— Plan  of  Portlaml,  Me. 

safety  in  any  season  ;  and  there  is  secure  anchorage  within 
a  mile  of  the  shore.  The  dry  dock  is  one  of  the  deepest 
in  the  United  States.  The  following  figures  show  the 
extent  of  the  foreign  trade  : — 


Imports. 

Exports. 

Average  1876-80 
1881 
1882 
1883 

$9,368,044 
11,078,612 
11,748,183 
10,235,991 

$11,044,389 
12,476,389 
11,955,787 
13,847,574 

Among  the  staple  imports  are  wood,  coal,  potatoes  (from 
Europe),  salt,  sugar  and  molasses,  fish,  earthenware,  and 
textile  manufactures ;  and  among  the  staple  exports  to 
foreign  countries  fresh  and  preserved  provisions  of  all 
kinds,  grain,  hay,  cattle,  wood,  copper  ore,  tallow,  ishoes, 
potash,  cotton,  lumber  (mainly  to  South  America),  and 
ice.  In  1870  the  total  receipts  of  grain  amounted  to 
1,516,875  bushels,  in  1875  to  2,152,829,  in  1878  to 
4,492,952,  and  in  1883  to  4,964,158  bushels,  or,  adding 
flour,  7,543,873  bushels.  The  number  of  entrances  from 
foreign  ports  in  1883  was  338  (164,711  tons),  clearances 
for  foreign  ports  501  (226,420  tons);  entrances  in  the 
coasting  trade  479  (403,166  tons),  and  clearances  389 
(394,500  tons).  In  the  same  year  the  Portland-owned 
vessels  numbered  368  (105,642  tons);  and  116  wore  em- 
ployed in  the  mackerel  and  cod  fisheries.  Fish -curing 
(cod,  'mackerel,  and  sardines),  preserving  meat,  Indian 
corn,  and  other  kinds  of  provisions,  boot  and  shoo  making, 
^■".rniture- making,  carriage-building,  machinery-making, 
riigine-building,  and  sugar-refining  are  all  prosecuted  on  a 
considerable  scale  for  the  sizo  of  the  town  ;  and  a  large 
'lumber  of  minor  industries  are  also  represented.  In  1884 
tliiro  were  six  national  banks,  with  an  aggregate  capital 
of  $3,250,000,  and  two  savings  banks,  with  deposits  of 
.18,966,879.  In  1880  the  cajiital  invested  in  manufactur- 
19-20 


ing  was  $4,659,375,  the  value  of  the  annual  production 
$9,569,523,  and  the  amount  of  wages  paid  $1,547,375. 
Portland  is  divided  into  seven  wards,  and  is  governed  by 
a  mayor,  a  board  of  aldermen,  and  a  common  council.  It 
is  the  seat  (5f  the  sessions  of  the  L'nited  States  courts  for 
the  district  of  Maine.  The  assessed  value  of  projierty  wa-3 
830,723,936  in  1874,  and  $33,030,020  in  1883.  The 
population  was  3704  in  1800,  20,815  in  1850,  31,413  in 
1870,  and  33,810  in  1880.  If  the  adjoining  villages  be 
included,  the  total  is  raised  to  between  45,000  and  50,000. 
The  name  of  Portland  as  applied  to  this  city  dates  only  fionj 
1786 ;  the  Indians  knew  the  place  as  JIachigoune.  The  first 
European  settlers  (1632)  called  it  Casco  Neck,  and  after  it  passed 
to  Massachusetts  in  1658  it  was  denominated  Falmouth.  During 
the  rest  of  the  17th  century  and  the  early  years  of  the  18th  hos- 
tilities on  the  part  of  the  French  and  tlie  Indians  prevented  the 
growth  of  the  town,  which  by  1764,  however,  had  increased  to 
about  2000  inhabitants.  In  1775  it  was  bombarded  by  four  British 
vessels  under  Captain  Mowatt,  but  it  was  rebuilt  in  1783,  and 
formally  incorporated  in  1786.  A  city  charter  was  obtained  in 
1832.  The  great  fire  of  1866  swept  over  a  third  of  the  city  and 
caused  a  loss  of  from  $6,000,000  to  $10,000,000.  Portland  "is  the 
birthplace  of  Henry  W.  Longfellow,  N.  P.  Willis,  Sara  P.  Parton 
("Fanny  Fern"),  Erastus  and  James  Brooks,  Commodore  Preble, 
John  Neal,  and  Neal  Dow. 

PORTLAND,  the  largest  city  of  Oregon,  in  the  United 
States,  the  capital  of  Multnomah  county  and  the  seat  of 
the  United  States  courts  for  Oregon,  is  situated  at  the 
head  of  ship  navigation  (river  craft  ascend  126  miles 
farther)  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Willamette,  12  miles 
above  its  junction  with  the  Columbia  river  and  about  120 
from  the  ocean.  It  is  a  well-built  and  rapidly-growing 
city,  laid  out  on  a  piece  of  level  ground  gradually  rising 
from  the  river  bank,  and  enclosed  on  the  west  by  a  semi- 
circle of  -fir-clad  hills.  Except  in  the  business  parts,  the 
streets,  which  are  remarkably  well  kept,  are  planted  with 
maple  trees  ;  and  a  park  about  200  f  ^et  broad  runs  through 
nearly  the  whole  length  of  the  city  from  north  to  south. 
Besides  the  schools,  several  of  which  are  especially  note- 
worthy, the  public  buildings  comprise  a  county  court- 
house, a  United  States  custom-house  and  post-office,  three 
public  halls,  three  theatres,  and  spacious  markets.  In 
1883  no  less  than  $4,039,100  were  expended  on  building 
enterprises,  $2,000,000  of  this  sum  being  for  business  and 
manufacturing  establishments.  Portland  is  the  natural 
centre  of  the  rapidly  developing  railway  system  of  Oregon 
and  the  neighbouring  Territories  (see  Oregon,  vol.  xvii.  p. 
824).  It  is  the  terminus  of  the  Oregon  Railway  and 
Navigation  Company's  system,  which  forms  the  connecting 
link  with  tide  water  of  the  Northern  Pacific  and  Union 
Pacific  Railroads,  thus  making  Portland  virtually  the 
Pacific  coast  terminus  of  these  two  transcontinental  lines. 
Vessels  drawing  from  19  to  21  feet  of  water  can  load  at 
its  wharves,  and,  though  it  is  still  dependent  on  San 
Francisco  for  a  largo  proportion  of  its  foreign  supplies, 
it  trades  directly  with  Great  Britain,  China,  the  Sandwich 
Islands,  the  South-American  republics,  &c.  Wheat,  flour, 
tinned  salmon,  and  lumber  are  the  principal  articles  of 
export.  In  1883  the  value  of  the  exports  amounted  to 
$10,984,963  and  that  of  the  imports  to  $27,668,787. 
The  manufacturing  establishments — foundries,  saw-mills, 
breweries,  soap-works,  boot  and  shoo  factories,  itc.  —  had 
in  1883  an  aggregate  production  valued  at  $11,423,000, 
or  an  increase  on  the  production  in  1880  of  ^8,52 1,000. 
The  valuation  of  property  for  the  purposes  of  taxation  was 
$9,622,750  in  1877  and  $19,397,750  in  1883.  The  popu- 
lation, which  was  only  2874  in  1860  and  8293  in  1870, 
had  increased  by  1880  to  17,577,  or,  including  the  .suburban 
city  of  East  Portland,  20,51 1  ;  and  it  is  estimated  that  the 
present  (1884)  total  is  about  40,000.  A  separate  district  is 
inhabited  by  the  Chinese,  who  number  severval  hundreds. 

Portland  was  laid  out  in  1845,  .-ind  became  a  city  in  1851.     In 
Dncember  1 872  it  was  visited  by  a  dcstrMclive  lire,  njm  it  had  hariUy 


530 


E  O  R  — P  0  R 


recovered  when,  on  2J  August  1873,  a  more  disSstrous  conflagration 
destroyed  about  twenty  blocks  in  one  of  the  most  crowded  parts  of 
the  city,  and  caused  a  total  loss  of  $1,345,400. 

PORTLAND,  Isle  of,  a  small  island  or  peninsula  of 
England,  in  the  English  Channel,  4  J  miles  south  "of 
Weyraoutb,  Dorsetshire,  connected  with  the  mainland  by 
a  long  narrow  ridge  of  shingle  called  the  Chesil  Bank. 
There  is  communication  with  Weymouth  both  by  rail  and 
steamer.  The  island  is  4i  miles  long  by  1|  broad,  the  area 
being  2S90  acres.  The  coast-line  is  wild  and  precipitous, 
and  Portland  is  inaccessible  from  the  sea  on  all  sides  except 
the  south.  The  highest  elevation  is  490  feet.  Numerous 
caverns  have  been  excavated  by  the  action  of  the  waves, 
and  off  Portland  Bill,  the  southern  extremity  of  the  island, 
is  a  bank  called  the  Shambles,  between  which  and  the  land 
there  flows  a  dangerous  current  called  the  Race  of  Fort- 
land.  The  substratum  of  the  island  is  Kimmeridge  clay, 
above  which  rest  beds  of  sands  and  strata  of  Oolitic  lime- 
stone, widely  famed  as  a  building  stone.  The  extpnsive 
quarries  have  supplied  the  materials  for  St  Paul's  Cathedral 
and  many  other  important  public  buildings  in  London  and 
elsewhere,  about  70,000  tons  of  stone  being  now  exported 
annually.  In  the  "dirt-bed"  resting  upon  the  Oolitic 
strata  numerous  specimens  of  petrified  wood  are  found, 
some  of  them  of  great  size.  The  soil,  though  shallow,  is 
fertile,  and  mutton  fed  on  the  grass  has  a  peculiarly  rich 
flavour.  Agricidture,  fishing,  and  especially  quarrying 
give  employment  to  the  inhabitants,  who  are  tall  and 
handsome,  and  retain  some  singular  customs,  among  which 
may  be  mentioned  that  of  conveying  land  by  "church 
gift "  (see  Real  Estate).  By  the  construction  of  a  break- 
water 2  J  miles  in  length,  the  building  of  which  occupied 
twenty-three  years,  from  1849  to  1872,  a  harbour  of 
refuge  2100  acres  in  extent  has  been  formed,  affording  a 
safe  and  convenient  anchorage  for  a  very  large  fleet  of 
vessels.  It  is  defended  by  two  forts  of  great  strength, 
mounted  with  heavy  ordnance.  A  convict  prison,  erected 
on  Portland  in  1848,  has  cells  for  1500  prisoners. 

Portland  Castle,  built  by  Henry  VIII.  in  1520,  is  generally  occu- 
pied by  the  commander  of  the  engineers  or  of  the  regiment  stationed 
on  the  island.  On  the  east  side  of  the  island  are  the  remains  of  a  more 
ancient  fortress,  ascribed  to  William  Kufus.  The  Isle  of  Portland 
is  not  mentioned  in  the  time  of  the  Romans.  In  837  it  was  the 
scene  of  an  action  against  the  Danes,  and  in  1052  it  was  plundered 
by  Earl  Godwine.  In  1643  the  Parliamentary  party  made  thera- 
eelves  masters  of  the  island  and  castle,  but  shortly  afterwards  these 
were  regained  by  the  Koyalists  tlirough  a  clever  stratagem,  and 
not  recovered  again  by  the  forces  of  the  Parliament  till  1646. 
The  island  is  under  the  government  of  a  local  board  of  health. 
The  population  in  1871  was  9907,  and  in  1881  it  was  10,061, 
including  550  ou  board  vessels,  861  in  Yerne  Citadel  barracks, 
and  1620  iu  the  convict  prison. 

PORTLAND,  William  Bentinck,  first  Eabl  of  (d. 
1709),  was  descended  from  an  ancient  and  noble  family  of 
Guelderland,  and  became  page  of  honour  to  William,  prince 
of  Orange,  from  which  he  was  advanced  to  be  gentleman 
of  the  bedchamber.  In  this  capacity  he  accompanied  the 
prince  to  England  in  1670,  and  along  with  him  was 
created  doctor  of  civil  law  by  the  university  of  Oxford. 
Afterwards  he  became  a  colonel  in  a  Dutch  regiment  of 
guards.  When  the  prince  of  Orange  was  attacked  with 
emallpox  he,  in  accordance  with  a  suggestion  of  the 
physicians,  volunteered  to  lie  in  bed  with  him,  that  the 
heat  of  his  body  might  check  and  expel  the  disease.  This 
remarkable  acts  of  self-sacrifice  secured  him  throughout  life 
the  special  friendship  of  the  prince,  and  by  his  prudence 
and  ability,  no  less  than  by  his  devotedness,  he  fully  justi- 
fied the  confidence  that  was  placed  in  him.  In  1677  he 
was  sent  by  the  prince  to  England  to  solicit  the  hand  of 
the  princess  Alary,  eldest  daughter  of  James,  then  duke 
of  York.  At  the  Revolution  he  was  the  chief  medium  of 
communication  between  the  prince  and  the  English  nobility, 
and  in  the  delicate  negotiations  his  practical  shrewdness 


greatly  facilitated  the  arrival  at  a  proper  understanding. 
After  superintending  the  arrangements  in  connexion  with 
the  prince's  expedition,  he  accompanied  him  to  England, 
and  was  made  groom  of  the  stole,  privy  purse,  first  gentle- 
man of  the  royal  bedchamber,  and  first  commissioner  on 
the  list  of  privy  councillors.  On  9th  April  1689  he  was 
created  Baron  Cirencester,  Viscount  Woodstock,  and  earl  a 
of  Portland.  With  the  rank  of  lieutenant-general  he  dis-  I 
tinguished  himself  in  command  of  the  Dutch  cavalry  at 
the  battle  of  the  Boyne  in  1690,  and  he  was  also  present 
at  the  battle  of  Landen  in  1693,  and  at  the  siege  of  Namur 
in  1695.  Along  with  marshal  de  Bouflers  he  prepared 
the  terms  of  the  peace  of  Ryswick  in  1697,  and  shortly 
afterwards  was  appointed  ambassador -extraordinary  to 
Paris.  Notwithstanding  his  diplomatic  skill,  his  grave 
and  cold  manner  rendered  him  unpopular  with  the 
English  nobility,  and  his  brusque  honesty  caused  him  1  > 
be  sometimes  wanting  in  outward  respect  to  ihe  king. 
Gradually  his  influence  at  the  court  was  supplanted  by 
that  of  the  earl  of  Albemarle,  who  was  more  skilled  in 
the  arts  of  popularity;  and  in  1700,  notwithstanding  the 
efforts  of  the  king  to  soothe  his  wounded  vanity,  he  resigned 
his  ofiices  and  retired  to  his  seat  at  Bulstrode,  Bucks,  where 
he  occupied  his  leisure  in  gardening  and  in  works  of  charity. 
For  receiving  grants  of  land  in  Ireland,  and  for  his  share  in 
the  partition  treaty,  he  was  impeached  by  parliament,  but 
the  prosecution  did  not  succeed.  He  died  23d  November 
1709,  and  was  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

PORTLAND,  William  Heney  Cavendish  Bentinck, 
THIRD  DtTKE  OF  (1738-1809),  prime  minister  of  England, 
was  the  grandson  of  Henry,  second  earl  and  first  duke  of 
Portland,  who  was  son  of  William,  first  Carl.  He  was  born 
14th  April  1738,  and  was  educated  at  Oxford  university, 
where  he  graduated  M.A:  in  1757.  In  1761  he  was 
elected  to  represent  the  borough  of  Weobly  (Hereford) 
in  parliament,  but  in  May  of  the  following  year  he  was 
called  to  the  Upper  House  on  the  death  of  his  father. 
Under  the  marquis  of  Rockingham  he  was,  from  Jul)' 
1765  to  July  1766,  lord  chamberlain,  and  on  the  return 
of  the  marquis  of  Rockingham  to  power  in  1782  he  was 
made  lord-lieutenant  of  Ireland.  After  the  short  ministry 
of  Shelburne,  succeeding  the  death  of  Rockingham,  the 
duke  of  Portland  was  selected  by  Fox  and  North  as  a 
"  convenient  cipher  "  to  become  the  head  of  the  coalition 
ministry,  tb  the  formation  of  which  the  king  was  with 
great  reluctance  compelled  to  give  his  assent.  The  duke 
held  the  premiership  from  5th  April  1783  until  the  defeat 
of  the  Bill  for  "the  just  and  efficient  government  of 
British  India"  caused  his  dismissal^ from  ofiice  on  17th 
December.  In  1792  he  succeeded  the  earl  of  Guildford 
as  chancellor  of  the  university  of  Oxford.  Under  Pitt  he 
was,  from  1794  to  1801,  secretary  of  state  for  the  home 
department,  after  which  ho  was,  from  1801  to  1805,  pre- 
sident of  the  council.  In  1807  he  was  appointed  a  second 
time  first  lord  of  the  treasury.  Ill-health  caused  him  tc 
resign  in  September  1809,  and  he  died  30th  Octobei 
following.  He  owed  his  political  influence  chiefly  to  his 
rank,  his  mild  disposition,  and  his  personal  integrity,  foi 
his  talents  were  in  no  sense  brilliant,  and  he  was  deficieni 
in  practical  energy  as  well  as  in  intellect'oal  grasp. 

PORTLAND  CEMENT.  See  Bitildiwg,  vol.  iv.  v.  459, 
and  Cements,  vol.  v.  p.  328. 

PORTLAND  VASE.     See  Glass,  vol.  x.  p.  649. 

PORT  LOUIS.     See  Mauritius,  vol.  xv.  p.  640. 

PORT  LYTTELTON,  a  municipal  borough  of- New 
Zealand,  formerly  called  Port  Cooper  and  Port  Victoria 
lies  on  the  north-west  side  of  Banks  Peninsula,  on  the  east 
coast  of  South  Island.  The  town,  situated  ih  43°  36'  S 
lat.  and  172°  44'  E.  long.,  stands  on  the  north  shore  ol 
a  small  bay  4  miles  south-west  from  the  heads.     A  fixed 


P  0  R  — P  O  R 


531 


jjflite  liglit,  visible  30  miles  in  clear  weather,  is  placed 
Dn  Godle^'  Head  on  the  north-west  side  of  the  entrance 
to  the  bay.  Harbour  works,  costing  over  £300,000,  have 
made  Port  Lyttelton  a  first-rate  commercial  port.  Pro- 
tecting breakwaters  have  created  a  fine,  accessible  wet 
dock  of  about  110  acres  in  extent  and  contiguous  to  the 
town;  there  is  ample  wharf  accommodation  for  large  vessels 
and  every  appliance  for  loading,  discharging,  and  storing 
cargo.  A  graving-dock,  closed  by  a  caisson,  is  450  feet 
long,  82  feet  broad  between  the  copings  and  46  feet  on 
the  floor,  and  has  a  depth  of  23  feet  of  water  on  the  sill. 
The  shipping,  excluding  coasters,  entered  inwards  at  Port 
Lyttelton  during  1883  amounted  to  124  vessels  of  83,117 
tons,  and  140  of  120,328  tons  cleared  outwards.  Imports 
have  increased  in  value  from  £629,457  during  .1872  to 
£1,400,106  during  1883,  and  exports  from  £829,260  to 
£1,944,035.  Port  Lyttelton  is  surrounded  by  steep  hills, 
and  is  connected  by  rail  with  Christchurch,  7  miles  inland. 
There  is  steam  comraunicatiou  twice  a  week  with  the  chief 
ports  of  New  Zealand,  and  weekly  with  Melbourne.  The 
population  in  the  census  of  1881  was  4127.  The  tovm, 
which  is  supplied  with  water  and  gas,  and  with  electric 
light  lamps  on  the  wharves  and  the  railway  bridge,  has 
post  and  telegraph  ofiices,  a  time  observatory,  a  jail  for 
long-service  prisoners,  a  state  school,  a  sailors'  home,  and 
an  orphanage. 

PORT  MAHON,  or  Mahon,  a  city  and  seaport  in  the 
Jlediterranean,  on  the  east  coast  of  -the  Spanish  island 
of  Minorca  (see  Balearic  Islands),  lies  on  a  height  near 
the  head  of  an  inlet  of  the  sea  3^  miles  long  by  from  400 
to  1200  yards  wide,  which,  though  of  less  importance  than 
formerly,  is  still  an  admirable  harbour  of  refuge.  The 
city  presents  a  fine  appearance  from  the  sea,  and  is  solidly 
built  of  excellent  stone,  but  contains '  few  features  of  in- 
terest. Many  of  the  houses  bear  the  stamp  of  the  English 
occupation,  which  has  also  left  curious  traces  in  the  life  of 
the  people.  Shoemaking  is  the  principal  trade,  and  shoes 
and  the  building  stone  already  mentioned  are  the  only 
important  exports.  Tho  population  was  21,976  in  1860, 
and  15,842  in  1877.  At  Cala  Figuera  (a  cove  to  the  south- 
east of  -the  town)  is  a  cotton -factory;  the  King's  Island 
(I.  del  Rey,  so  called  as  the  landing-place  of  Alphonso 
in.  of  Aragon  in  1287)  contains  a  hospital  built  by  the 
admiral  of  the  English  squadron  in  1722  ;  farther  south- 
east on  the  shore  lies  the  village  of  Villa  Carlos  or  George 
Town  (1746  inhabitants  in  1877),  with  ruins  of  extensive 
English  barracks ;  and  at  the  mouth  of  the  port,  on  tho 
same  side,  are  the  remains  of  Fort  San  Felipe,  which  was 
originally  erected  by  Charles  V.  and  twice  became  the 
*cene  of  the  capitulation  of  British  troops.  Opposite  San 
Felipe  is  the  easily-defended  peninsula  of  La  Mola  (256 
feet  high),  which  is  occupied  by  extensive  Spanish  fortifi- 
cations now  in  course  of  completion.  Mahon  is  one  of 
the  principal  quarantine  stations  of  Spain ;  the  hospital, 
erected  between  1798  and  1803,  stands  on  a  long  tongue 
of  land,  separated  from  La  Mola  by  Cala  Taulera. 

Mahon  is  tho  ancient  Portus  Magonis,  which  under  the  Romans 
was  a  municipium  (/i/urt.  Flavinm  Magontanum),  probably  incliiJ- 
inc;  under  its  authority  tho  whole  islani  As  tho  name  suggests,  it 
hnd  previously  been  a  Cartha^nian  settlement.  The  Moors  had 
for  some  tiino  been  in  possession  when  they  were  expelled  by -Don 
Jayme  of  Aragon  in  1232.  Barbarossa  of  Algiers  besieged  and  cap- 
tured the  city  in  1535 ;  and  in  1558  it  was  sacked  by  a  corsair  called 
I'iali.  The  English,  who  under  .lames  Stanhope,  afterwards  £arl 
Stanhope,  seized  tho  island  in  1708,  made  Mahon  a  flourishing  city, 
and  in  1718  declared  it  a  free  port.  In  the  year  1756  it  fell  into 
the  hands  of  tho  French,  through  the  failure  of  the  unfortunate 
Admiral  Byng  to  relieve  tho  garrison  of  St  Philip's  (San  Felipe). 
Bcstored  to  the  Engli<;h  in  1762,  it  was  in  1782  heroically  but  un- 
successfully defended  by  General  Murray.  In  1802  it  was  finally 
ceded  to  Spain  by  the  treaty  of  Amiens. 

PORTO  ALEGRE,  a  city  and  seaport  of  Brazil,  the 
iaHriUI  of  the  province  of  Rio  Grande  do  Sul,  lies  in  30°  2' 


S.  lat.  and  51°  12'  W.  long,  at  the  northern  extremity  of 
the  Lagoa  dos  Patos  (Duck  Lagoon),  where  it  receives  the 
waters  of  the  Jacuhi,  Sino,  Gahi,  and  Gravatahi,  whose 
confluence  opposite  the  city  is  sometimes  distinguished  by 
the  name  of  Lagoa  Viamao.  Like  the  other  towns  on  this 
lagoon,  Rio  Grande  do  Sul  and  Pelotas,  Porto  Alegre  is 
the  seat  of  a  very  considerable  trade,  but  it  is  impossible 
to  say  precisely  what  share  belongs  to  each  of  the  three. 
(See  Rio  Grande  do  Sul.)  Its  harbour  is  accessible  to 
vessels  drawing  10  to  12  feet ;  it  is  the  terminus  of  a  raiU 
way  running  by  Sao  Leopoldo  to  Ncuhamburg;  and  it 
serves  as  a  centre  for  the.  various  German  colonies  in  the 
province.  A  cathedral,  a  seminary,  a  lyceum,  a  provincial 
library,  government  oflices,  a  theatre,  a  large  hospital,  and 
a  market-house  are  among  the  public  buildings.  The 
population  is  about  25,000. 

Porto  Alegre  was  founded  in  1743  by  immigrants  from  the  Azores, 
and  was  at  first  known  as  Porto  dos  Cazaes.  In  1770  it  was  cliosen 
by  Jose  Marcellino  de  Figuereido  as  his  residence  and  obtained  its 
present  name.  Three  years  later  it  had  5000  inhabitants.  The 
title  of  "town"  with  the  full  name  Sao  Jose  de  Porto  Alegre  was 
bestowed  in  1808,  and  in  1812  Sao  Jose  became  the  governor's 
residence  for  the  comarca,  which  till  1821  comprised  botli  Rio 
Grande  do  Sul  and  Santa  Catharina.  In  1822  it  was  raised  to 
the  rank  of  a  city,  and  in  1841,  as  a  reward  for  its  loyalty,  was 
distinguished  with  the  epithets  "leal  y  valorosa." 

PORTO  BELLO  (Span.,  Puerto  Bello),  a  town  in  the 
republic  of  Colombia  and  state  of  PanamA,  situated  on  the 
coast  of  the  Caribbean  Sea,  about  23  miles  east  of  Colon 
in  9°  32'  N.  lat.  and  78°  38'  W.  long.  As  the  name  (bestowed 
by  Columbus  in  1502)  implies,  it  possesses  a  fine  natural 
harbour,  the  bay  between  Drake's  Point  in  the  north  and 
Buenaventura  Island  in  the  south  being  easy  of  entrance 
and  having  a  depth  of  8  to  16  fathoms.  Founded  in  1584, 
the  city  rapidly  grew  in  importance,  becoming  the  great 
depot  for  the  gold  and  silver  from  Peru,  which  were  brought 
across  the  isthmus  from  PanamA,  and  here  conveyed  on 
board  the  loyal  galleons.  It  is  now  best  remembered 
through  the  unexpected  success  which  attended  Admiral 
Vernon's  attack  in  1739.  "Within  forty-eight  hours  after 
his  appearance  in  the  harbour"  he  was  in  possession  of  the 
place,  and  before  he  left  he  utterly  destroyed  the  fortifica- 
tions. At  that  time  the  city  contained  about  10,000 
inhabitants;  it  now  barely  numbers  1000,  including  the 
Negroes,  who  live  in  the  quarter  known  as  Guinea.  A 
few  public  buildings,  such  as  the  principal  church  and  the 
treasury,  remain  as  indications  of  former  prosperity.  The 
decline  is  due  much  less  to  Admiral  Vernon  than  to  the 
extreme  unhealthiness  of  the  situation,  and  the  fact  that 
trade  has  taken  to  quite  other  channels. 

PORTOBELLO,  a  municipal  burgh  of  Scotland,  in  the 
county  of  Jlidlothian,  lies  on  slightly  sloping  ground  on 
the  south  shore  of  the  Firth  of  Forth,  3  miles  by  rail  cast 
of  Edinburgh.  At  the  west  end  are  extensive  brickfields, 
two  potteries' (working  English  clay),  two  bottle-works,  and 
a  paper-mill.  Southwards  and  eastwards  the  liouses  are 
those  of  a  residential  suburb  of  Edinburgh  and  a  summer 
watering-place.  Among  the  more  conspicuous  edifices  are 
the  npw  municipal  buildings  (1878),  tho  old  town-hall 
(1863;,  a  United  Presbyterian  church  (1880),  the  Free 
church  (1876-77),  the  Episcoi^al  church  (18>2C),  and  the 
School  Board  schools  (1876).  Portobello  beacli  is  a  fine 
reach  of  firm  clean  sands,  but  these  have  been  to  soma 
extent  spoiled  by  the  vicinity  of  manufacturing  works  and 
sewage  outlets.  A  marine  parade  was  constructed  in  1860 
and  a  promenade  pier  (1250  feet  long)  in  1871.  Tliepopula 
tion  was  5481  in  1871  and  6794  in  1881.  What  used  to  be 
the  sejiaratc  village  of  Joppa  is  now  included  in  Portobello. 
Portobello  occupies  part  of  a  formerly  desolate  niece  of  ground 
known  as  the  Figgato  Whins.  The  fust  house  was  built  by  a  luiloi 
who  liad  served  under  Ailmiral  Vernon  at  the  capture  of  Porto  Bello 
in  Central  America  in  1739  ;'  but  the  real  lieginning  of  the  town 
dates  from  the  discovery  in  1765  of  a  bed  of  cl.iy  and  the  couse«|ueQt 


632, 


P  O  K  — P  O  R 


■ircction  of  brick  and  tile  woiks.    .  It  was  made  a  burgh  by  the 
Befonn  Act  of  1832-33. 

PORT  OF  SPAIN.     See  Trinidad. 

PORTO  MAURIZIO,  a  city  of  Italy,  chief  town  of  a 
province  and  centre  of  a  maritime  district,  lies  on  the 
coast  of  the  Ligurian  Sea,  46  miles  by  rail  east  of  Nice  and 
70  miles  west  of  Genoa,  and  consists  of  a  picturesque  old 
town  situated  on  the  heights  and  a  modern  town  of  villas 
on  the  lower  slopes.  The  principal  church,  designed  by 
Gaetano  Cantone,  is  perhaps  the  most  notable  building  of 
its  class  in  the  whole  Riviera ;  the  roof  is  divided  into 
arches,  domes,  and  semi-domes  resting  on  massive  piers. 
A  few  remains  of  the  old  city  walls  may  still  be  seen.  In 
1S81  the  population  of  the  city  was  6309  and  of  the  com- 
mune 6827.  About  2  miles  east  of  Porto  Maurizio  is  the 
town  of  Oneglia,  with  a  fine  church,  S.  Giovanni  Battista," 
designed  by  Gaetano  Amoretti,  a  hospital  (1785),  and  a 
national  penitentiary  on  the  cell-system.  Its  population  in 
1881  was  7286,  that  of  the  commune  7433.  Both  Porto 
Maurizio  and  Oneglia  lie  on  the  same  bay,  and  schemes 
are  imder  discussion  for  uniting  their  harbours  into  one 
great  port.  At  Porto  Maurizio  an  extension  is  being  made 
(1884)  in  the  western  mole.  The  foreign  traffic  of  the  two 
ports  was  represented  in  1883  by  154  sailing  vessels  and 
27  steamers  entering  or  clearing  (the  steamers  all  prefer- 
ring Porto  Maurizio),  and  the  coasting  trade  by  627  vessels. 
Both  towns  are  embowered  amid  olive  groves,  and  the  dis- 
trict is  famous  for  the  quality  of  its  oil. 

Porto  Maurizio  appears  as  Porlns  ilauricii  in  the  Antoniue 
Itinerary.  After  beiii"  subject  to  the  marquises  of  Susa  (lltli 
century),  of  Savona  (12th  century),  and  of  Clavesaua,  it  was  sold  by 
Boniface  of  Clavesana  in  12S8  to  Genoa  for  a  yearly  pension  ;  in 
1354  it  became  the  seat  of  the  Genoese  vicar  of  the  western  Riviera, 
and  remained  in  the  possession  of  the  republic  till  it  was  merged  in 
the  kingdom  of  Sardinia.  Oneglia,  formerly  situated  inland  at  the 
place  called  Castelvecchio  (Old  CastleV,  has  occupied  its  present 
site  from  about  935.  The  bishops  of  Albenga  sold  it  in  1298  to 
the  Dorias  of  Genoa,  who  in  their  turn  disposed  of  it  in  1576  to 
Emanuel  Philibert.  In  the  various  wars  of  the  house  of  Savoy 
Oneglia  often  changed  hands.  In  1614  and  1649  the  Spaniards  and 
in  1623  and  1672  the  Genoese  obtained  possession  ;  in  1692  it  had 
to  repulse  an  attack  by  a  French  squadron ;  in  1744-45  it  was  again 
occupied  by  the  Spaniards,  and  in  1792  bombarded  and  burned  by 
the  French.  Pellegrino  Amoretti,  assistant  secretary  to  Charles  V., 
and  Andrea  Doria,  the  famous  admiral,  were  natives  of  Oneglia. 

PORTO  RICO  (Span.,  Puerto  Rico),  one  of  the  Spanish 
West  India  Islands,  lies  70  miles  east  of  Hayti  between 
17°  50'  and  18°  30'  N.  lat.  and  65°  35'  and  67°  10'  W.  long. 
It  forms  an  irregular  parallelogram,  108  miles  long  and 
37  broad,  and  has  an  area  of  3530  square  miles,  or  rather 
less  than  that  of  Jamaica.  From  east  to  west  it  is 
traversed  by  a  range  of  hills  so  situated  that  the  streams 
flowing  northward  are  much  longer  than  those  flowing 


Porto  Kico. 

south.  The  highest  district,  however,  and  the  highest 
peak — El  Yunque  (3600  feet) — are  situated  in  the  Sierra 
4e  Loquillo  near  the  north-east  corner.  As  the  hills  inter- 
cept the  north-east  trade-winds  with  their  rain-clouds  there 
is  sometimes  almost  a  superabundance  of  moisture  in  the 
northern  lowlands,  while  in  the  south  severe  droughts  occur 
and  tlio  land  demancls  artificial  irrigation,  as  yet  carried 


out  with  too  little  co-operation  and  system  Tlie  island  ia, 
however,  exceptionally  well  watered,  1300  streams  being 
enumerated,  of  which  forty-seven  are  considerable  rivers ; 
and  its  general  appearance  is  very  beautiful.  Forests  still 
cover  all  the  higher  parts  of  the  hills,  and  difier  from  those 
of  the  other  West  Indian  Islands  mainly  in  the  comparative 
absence  of  epiphytes.  Amon^  the  noteworthy  trees  Baron 
Ilggers  (see  Nature,  6th  December  1883)  mentions  -the 
Coccoloba  macrophylla,  or  "ortegon"  of  the  natives,  which 
forms  extensive  woods  in  some  places,  chiefly  near  the  coast, 
and  is  conspicuous  by  its  immense"  yard-long  purple  Spikes ; 
a  beautiful  Talauma,  with  white  odorous  flowers,  and 
yielding  a  timber  called  "sabino"  ;  an  unknown  tree  with 
purple  flowers  like  those  of  Scxvola  Plumieri ;  a  large 
Heliconia ;  and  several  tree-ferns  {Cyathea  Serra  and  an 
Alsophila).  Besides  the  two  staples — sugar  and  cofiee — j 
tobacco,  cotton,  rice,  maize,  Caladiuni  esculentum,  yamaj 
and  plantains,  as  well  as  oranges,  cocoa-nuts,'  and  other 
tropical  fruits,  are  commonly  cultivated.  The  rice,  which 
is  the  principal  food  of  the  labourers,  is  a  mountain 
variety  grown  without  flooding.  On  the  lowland  pastures, 
covered  mainly  with  Hymenachne  striatum,  large  herds  of 
excellent  cattle  are  reared  to  supply  butcher-meat  for  St 
Thomas,  the  French  islands,  &c.  In  general  Porto  Rico 
may  be  described  as  extremely  fertile,  and  its  exports  more 
than  double  in  value  those  of  Jamaica.  In  1883  the  prin- 
cipal items  were — sugar  and  molasses,  78,482  tons,  valued 
at  £1,036,595  ;  coff'ee,  16,801  tons,  at  £955,948;  honey, 
30,378  tons,  at  £148,148;  and  tobacco,  1730  tons,  at 
£114,614.  Of  the  tobacco  a  large  proportion  is  sent  to 
Havana  to  be  manufactured  into  cigars.  The  total  value 
of  exports  and  imports  has  increased  from  £2,219,870  in 
1850  to  £5,118,712  in  1883.  The  great  want  of  the 
island  is  still  roads  and  bridges,  though  the  Government 
has  done  good  work  in  this  department  in  recent  years ; 
the  journey  across  the  hills  can  only  be  performed  on 
horseback,  and  even  along  the  coast-route  wheeled  traffic 
is  at  times  interrupted.  Gold,  iron,  copper,  coal,  and  salt 
are  all  found  in  Porto  Rico,  but  the  last  alone  is  worked. 

The  island,  which  was  declared  a  province  of  Spain  in  1870,  is 
divided  into  the  following  seven  departments : — Bciyamon,  near 
the  north-east  end  of  the  isl.Tnd  (containing  the  capital,  San  Juan 
Bautista,  and  Toa-Alta,  Toa-Baja,  Naranjito,  Vcga-Alta,  &c.), 
Arccibo  (Arecibo,  Hatillo,  Camuy,  Quebradillas,  ic),  AgvaifiVii 
(Aguadilla,  Moca,  Aguada  Lares  or  San  Sebastian),  Mnyngucz  (Maya- 
guez,  Anaico,  San  German),  Ponce  (Ponce,  Guayanilla,  Penuelas, 
Coamo),  £'i(macao(Humacao,  Naguabo,  Lu(|uilIo),  CiinT/uwin  (Hato- 
Grande,  Gurabo,  &c.).  And  the  island  of  Viequez  (with  the  town 
of  Isabel  Segunda)  is  attached  as  an  eighth  department,  and  used 
as  a  military  penal  station.  The  total  population  of  Porto  Kico 
was  not  more  than  319,000  in  1830  ;  by  1860  it  reached  583,308  ; 
and  by  1830  754,313.  At  this  last  date  429,473  (219,418  males  and 
210,055  females)  were  white  and  324,840  (162,352  males  and  162,488 
females)  coloured.  There  is  still  plenty  of  room  for  further  expan- 
sion. Among  the  people  of  Eurojiean  origin  are  Spaniards,  Germans, 
Swedes,  Danes,  Russians,  Frenchmen,  Chuetas  or  descendants  of 
Moorish  Jews  from  Majorca,  and  natives  of  the  Canary  Islands. 
There  are  also  a  number  of  Chinese.  The  Gibaros  or  small  land- 
holders and  day-labourers  of  the  country  districts  are  a  curious  old 
Spanish  stock  largely  modified  by  Indian  blood.  Till  1856  it  was 
believed  that  no  trace  of  the  original  inhabitants  of  the  island 
remained  ;  archeological  collections,  however,  have  since  been  made 
and  arc  now  preserved  in  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  the  Ethno- 
logical Museum  in  Berlin,  and  elsewhere.  They  comprise  stoni, 
axes,  spear-heads,  and  knives,  stone  and  clay  images,  and  fragments 
of  earthenware  At  Gurabo,  on  the  banks  of  the  Rio  Grande  dc 
Loiza,  there  is  a  curious  rude  stones  monument,  on  the  uppei 
surface  of  which  appear  several  strange  designs  (see  L.  Krug,  "  Iiul. 
Alterth.  in  Porto  Kico,"  in  Z.  fur  Ethn.,  Berlin,  1876). 

Principal  Toims. — San  Juan  Bautista  or  St  John's  (24,000  inha- 
bitants in  town  and  district),  the  capital,  lies  in  18°  29'  N.  and  66° 
7'  W.  on  the  north  roast,  on  a  small  island  (Morro)  connected  with 
the  mainland  by  bridges.  It  is  a  place  of.  some  strength  and  con- 
tains a  governor's  palace  in  the  old  fort  of  Santa  Catalina,  a  palace 
erected  by  Ponce  de  Leon,  a  cathedral,  a  town-house,  a  theatre,  &c. 
The  harbour  is  one  of  the  best  in  the  "West  Indies,  having  a  com- 
paratively unobstructed  entrance,  and  along  the  wharves  a  depth 


P  O  R  — P  O  R 


533 


ftt  low  water  of  10  to  13  fe«t,  and  at  high  water  llj  lo  144.  Ponce 
(38,000  inhabitants  in  town  and  district)  lies  about  3  miles  inland 
from  the  south  coast.  Its  public  buildings  are  frequently  of  brick 
or  stone,  hut  the  private  houses  are  of  wood.  It  contains  a  town- 
hall  (sitiuted,  like  the  principal  church,  in  the  main  square),  a 
public  hospital  (1875),  and  an  English  Episcopal  church,  and  it  is 
lighted  with  gas  by  an  English  company.  Mayngiiez  (27,  OOO  inhabit- 
ants in  town  and  district),  on  the  west  coast,  is  also  situated  several 
miles  inland,  and  is  separated  from  its  port  by  a  river.  An  iron 
bridge,  however,  was  constructed  about  1S75-76.  The  town  has 
military  barracks,  clubs,  and  gasworks.  The  harbour,  accessible 
only  to  vessels  drawing  less  than  16  feet,  is  silting  up,  as  indeed 
is  the  case  with  almost  all  the  harbours  of  Porto  Rico.  Other  towns 
are  Guayama  on  the  south  coast,  with  its  harbour  at  Arroya,  and 
San  Carlos  de  Aguadilla  on  the  west  coast.  The  seaports  are  St 
John's,  Ponce,  Mayaeuez,  Naguabo,  Fajardo,  Aguadilla,  and  Viequez. 
Misttry.^-Yoxto  Rico,  the  Borinquen  of  the  aborigines,  was  dis- 
covered by  Columbus  in  November  1493.  In  1510  Ponce  de  Leon 
founded  the  town  of  Caparra,  soon  after  abandoned,  and  now  known 
as  Puerto  Viejo,  and  in  1511,  with  more  success,  the  city  of  San 
Juan  Bautista.  The  native  inhabitants — probably  not  very  numer- 
ous, though,  with  their  usual  exaggeration,  old  chroniclers  rate  them 
at  600,000 — were  soon  subdued  and  swept  away.'  In  1595  the 
capital  was  sacked  by  Drake,  and  in  1598  by  the  duke  of  Cumber- 
land. In  1615  Baldwin  Heinrich,  a  Dutchman,  lost  his  life  in  an 
attack  on  the  Castello  del  Mono.  The  attempt  of  the  English  in 
1678  was  equally  unsuccessful,  and  Abercrsmby  in  1797  had  to 
retire  after  a  three  days'  siege.  In  1820  a  movement  was  made 
towards  a  declaration  of  independence  on  the  part  of  the  Porto 
Ricans,  but  Spanish  supremacy  was  dompletely  re-established  by 
1823.  The  last  traces  of  slavery  were  abolished  in  1873  by  the 
abrogation  of  the  system  of  forced  labour. 

See  Antonio  de  Hen-era,  "  Descripcion  de  la  isla  de  Puerto  Rico,  1582,"  in 
'BoUtin  de  la  Soc.  Geogr.  de  Madrid.  1876  ;  Bello  y  Espinosa,  "  Geschichtl.,  geogr., 
und  Stat.  Bemerk.  uber  Puerto  Rico,"  in  Zcitschr.  fur  Elhnulogie,  1872  ;  Inigo 
Abbad,  Historia  .  .  ■.  (f«  la  Isla  de  S.  J.  B.  di  Puerto  Kico,  Madrid,  1788,  re- 
published by  Jos6  Julian  Acosta  of  Porto  Rico.  ^ 

PORT  ROYAL,  a  town  and  naval  station  of  Jamaica," 
occupies  the  outer  end  of  a  narrow  strip  of  land  called  the 
"Palisades,"  which,  projecting  westward  for  about  9  miles, 
forms  the  natural  breakwater  of  the  noble  bay  on  which 
Kingston,  the  present  capital  of  the  island,  is  built.  Aa  a 
town  Port  Royal  (though  in  the  17th  century  it  was  re- 
puted the  finest  in  the  West  Indies)  is  now  a  wretched 
place  of  1205  inhabitants  (1881),  with  narrow  and  ex- 
tremely dirty  streets,^  and  contains  no  buildings  of  note 
except  a  hospital  (200  patients)  and  the  spacious  admiralty 
house,  which  is  surrounded  by  beautiful  gardens  ;  but  as  a 
naval  station  it  is  still  of  very  considerable  importance,  has 
well-equipped  machine-shops,  and  is  defended  by  a  number 
of  forts  and  batteries  partly  of  quite  modern  erection. 

The  first  great  blow  struck  at  the  prosperity  of  Port  Royal  was 
the  earthquake  of  1692,  which  swallowed  up  whole  streets  and  forts 
and  sunk  a  considerable  part  of  the  site  into  the  sea,  where  remains 
of  buildings  are  still  visible  under  water  in  clear  weather.  In  1703 
the  whole  town,  o.Tcept  the  royal  forts  and  magazines,  was  reduced 
to  ashes  ;  on  22d  August  1722  most  of  the  houses  were  swept  into 
the  sea  by  a  hurricane  ;  in  1815  another  conflagration  proved  nearly 
as  destrucrive  as  the  first ;  and  in  1880  another  hurricane  did 
grievous  damage. 

PORT  ROYAL,  a  celebrated  Cistercian  abbey,  occupied 
&  low  and  marshy  site  in  the  thickly-wooded  valley  of  the 
Yvette,  at  what  is  now  known  as  Les  Hamcaux  near  Marly, 
about  8  miles  to  the  south-west  of  Versailles.  It  was 
founded  in  1204  by  Mathildo  de  Garlande,  wife  of  Matthicu 
de  Montmorenci-Marli,  during  his  absence  on  the  fourth 
crusade,  and  in  its  early  years  it  received  a  variety  of  papal 
privileges,  including  (1223)  that  of  affording  a  retreat  to 
lay  persons  who  desired  to  withdraw  from  the  world  for  a 
season  without  binding  themselves  by  permanent  vows. 
Apart  from  the  famous  reforms  begun  hero  in  1G08  by 
Jacqueline  Mario  Aknauld  (r/.v.),  the  M6ro  Angtiliquej 
the  history  of  Port  Royal  presents  little  of  general  interest 
antil  about  ten  years  after  the  establishment  (1G2G)  of  the 
sister  house  in  Paris,  when  the  community  fully  came  under 
the  influence  of  Duvergier  de  Ilauranno  (.see  vol.  vii.  p. 
5R7),  abbe  of  St  Cyran,  the  friend  of  Jansen,  and  leader 

'  A  detailed  account  of  their  manners,  translated  from  Abbnd  by 
MtBidwell.  will  be  found  in  the  Consular  Ji'.vorcs,  1880. 


of  the  anti-Jesuit  movement  in  France.  The  religious 
views  of  St  Cyran  spread  rapidly  in  Port  Royal  de  Paris, 
and  among  the  members  and  connexions  of  the  Arnauld 
family;  and  it  was  under  his  influence  that  in  1637 
Antoine  Le  Maitre  (1608-1658),  a  nephew  of  the  Mere 
Angelique,  resolved  to  abandon  his  brilliant  prospects  as 
an  advocate  and  seek  a  life  of  ascetic  retirement.  He 
found  a  lodging  for  himself  at  Port  Royal  des  Champs  (as 
the  mother  house  came  to  be  called  for  distinction's  sake), 
which  since  the  departure  of  the  nuns  in  1626  had  been 
untenanted.  In  the  following  year  he  was  joined  in  his 
religious  retreat  by  his  younger  brothers  Simon  de  Seri- 
court  (1611-1658),  who  had  served  in  the  army,  and  Louis 
Isaac  (1613-1684),  better  known  in  the  world  of  letters  by 
his  assumed  name  of  De  Sacy.  They  were  at  various 
times  joined  by  others  until  in  1646  the  J' solitaries  of 
Port  Royal,"  apart  from  merely' occasional  visitors,  had 
risen  to  the  number  of  twelve.  From  almost  the  beginning 
of  his  sojourn  Le  Maitre,  carrying  out  the  ideas  of  his 
imprisoned  master  St  Cyran,  devoted  a  considerable  part 
of  his  time  to  teaching ;  the  number  of  pupils  and  also  of 
teachers  gradually  increased  until  in  1646  and  following 
years  the  "  Petites  £coles,"  as  they  were  modestly  called, 
around  Port  Royal-les  Champs  and  in  Paris,  although  de- 
stined to  be  short-lived,  attained  a  great  and  widespread 
success  (compare  vol.  vii.  p.  675).  Of  the  regular  teaching 
stafT  probably  the  most  distinguished  were  Claude  Lance- 
lot (1615-1695)2  and  Pierre  Nicole  (q.v.) ;  of  the  pupils 
it  is  enough  to  mention  Tillemont  (q.v.)  and  Racine  (q.v.) 
In  1648  the  Mfere  Angelique  with  some  of  the  nuns  ro 
turned  from  Paris  to  Port  Royal  des  Champs,  which  in  th 
interval  had  been  considerably  enlarged,  while  the  neigli 
bourhood  had  been  rendered  more  salubrious  by  the  labour.i 
of  the  solitaries,  who  now  removed  to  the  farmhouse  of 
Les  Granges  on  the  height  above.  In  the  same  year 
Antoine  Arnauld  (q.v.),  the  apologist  of  the  Auffustimi.-; 
came  into  residence,  and  thenceforward  the  "  gentlemen  of 
Port  Royal "  became  closely  identified  in  the  public  mind 
with  the  Jansenist  cause.  The  open  struggle,  which  began 
with  the  publication  in  1653  of  the  bull  of  Pope  Innocent 
X.  condemning  the  five  propositions  (see  Jansenism),  came 
to-a  disastr(»us  crisis  in  1656,  when  Arnauld  was  expelled 
the  Sorbonne,  and  he,  as  well  as  Sacy,  Fontaine,  and  Nicole, 
had  to  go  into  hiding.  The  publication  of  the  Provincial 
Letters  in  the  course  of  tho  same  year  did  not  tend  to 
soothe  the  Jesuits,  but  tho  timely  "miracle  of  the  Holy 
Thorn"  (24th  May  1656;  seo  vol.  xviii.  p.  335)  helped 
to  postpone  somewhat  the  evil  days  that  were  coming  on 
the  Port  Royalists.  But  only  for  a  time  ;  for  in  1661  the 
young  and  ardently  orthodox  Louis  XIV.  ,caused  tho  Petites 
Ecoles  to  be  broken  up  and  the  postulants  and  novice-s 
of  the  two  religious  houses  to  be  dispersed.  For  continued 
contumacy  both  houses  were  in  1664  laid  under  interdict, 
which  was  only  removed  when  the  "  peace  of  the  church  " 
was  established  by  Clement  IX.  in  16C9.  In  tho  samo 
year,  however.  Port  Royal  de  Paris,  was  separated  from 
the  parent  house  with  a  grant  of  one-third'of  tho  revenue.s, 
and  placed  under  Jesuit  management.  The  nuns  of  the 
abbey  of  Port  Royal  des  Champs  were  allowed  to  take  in 
children  as  pupils,  but  not  to  receive  any  accessions  to 
their  own  number,  and  tho  Petites  ficoles  were  not  resumed.' 
Tho  "  peace,"  such  as  it  was,  was  again  destroyed  by  tho 
bull  of  Clement  XI.  in  1705,  and  in  1708,  tho  nuns  proving 
inflexible,  a  papal  bull  was  granted  for  the  final  sujipression 
of  Port  Royal  des  Chamjis  and  tho  transference  of  tha 
whole  property  to  Port  Royal  do  Paris.  Tho  dispersion 
of  tho  aged  sisters  took  place  in  tho  following  year;. tha 

'  Author  of  /fouvetle  MHhode  pour  apprendre  la  Langtie  Grer/fu* 
(1655),  NouvelU  Mithoile  pour  apprendre  la  Langve  Latine  (1656),' 
Grammaire  gtnirale  ct  TaiaB%nit.(WiQ),  and  other  educational  woc^ 


534 


P  0  R  — P  O  R 


buildings  were  levelled  with  the  ground  in  1710;  and  in 
1711  the  bodies  (to  the  number,  it  is  said,  of  nearly  3000) 
that  lay  buried  within  the  desecrated  precincts  were  disin- 
terred and  removed  to  other  places.  Port  Royal  de  Paris 
continued  to  subsist  in  obscurity  until  1790. 

See  Sainte-Beuve,  Port  Royal  (3  toIs.,  1842-43  ;  4th  ed.,  6  voli, 
1878),  an  exhaustive  work,  by  -which  all  the  earlier  histories  have 
been  superseded. 

PORT  SAID,  a  town  and  seaport  of  Lower  Egypt,  which 
owes  its  existence  to  the  Suez  Canal  (1859-69),  and  was 
named  after  Sa'id  Pasha,  patron  of  the  enterprise.  It  lies 
on  the  west  side  of  the  canal,  on  the  low  narrow,  treeless, 
and  desolate  strip  of  land  which  separates  the  Mediter- 
ranean from  Lake  Menzaleh  (see  plate  XXXVL,  vol.  iv.) ; 
the  supply  of  fresh  water  brought  from  the  sweet-water 
canal  at  Ismailia  by  a  conduit  is  barely  sufficient  for  the 
wants  of  the  town,  which  is  regularly  laid  out  and  has 
some  streets  of  substantial  houses.  The  population  rose 
from  12,332  in  1880  to  16,560  in  1882.  Nearly  half 
of  this  number  reside  in  a  miserable  native  suburb  about 
500  yards  to  the  west  of  the  town  proper.  The  British 
subjects  (405)  are  nearly  all  Maltese.  Port  Said,  having 
no  direct  means  of  communication  with  the  interior,  is 
essentially  a  coaling  station  for  steamers,  and  is  entirely 
dependent  on  the  canal  trade.  The  steamers  from  Alex- 
andria to  the  Syrian  ports  call  here,  and  there  is  a  daily 
steamboat  to  Ismailia.  The  outer  harbour  is  formed  by 
the  terminal  piers  of  the  canal,  and  the  inner  harbour 
comprises  three  sheltered  basins, — the  commercial  dock, 
the  arsenal  dock,  and  the  Sherif  dock.  The  third  is  flanked 
by  buildings  originally  erected  by  Prince  Henry  of  the 
Netherlands  as  a  depot  for  Dutch  trade.  Besides  a  Catholic 
and  a  Greek  church,  the  town  contains  a  hospital  and  five 
schools,  one  of  which  is  maintained  by  the  Capuchin  friars, 
and  another  by  the  freemasons. 

PORT  ST  MARY.     See  Puerto  de  Sant^:  Maeia. 

PORTSMOUTH,  a  municipal  and  parliamentary  bor- 
ough, seaport,  and  naval  station  of  Hamp- 
shire, England,  consists  of  an  aggregate  of 
towns  situated  in  the  south-western  corner 
of  Portsea  Island,  opposite  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  18  miles  south  by  east  of  South- 
ampton and  74  south-west  of  London  by 
the  London  and  South- Western  Railway. 
For  the  general  position  of  Portsmouth,  see 
plate  VII.  vol.  xi.  The  original  town  is 
not  now  nearly  so  populous  as  the  suburbs 
comprised  in  the  general  name  of  Portsea 
(including  Portsea  proper)  on  the  north 
and  west,  Landport  on  the  north,  and 
Southsea  on  the  east.  Portsmouth  proper 
is  the  barrack  and  garrison  town ;  at  Port- 
sea is  situated  the  great  naval  dockyard  ; 
Landport  is  occupied  chiefly  by  the  houses 
of  artisans ;  and  Southsea,  as  possessing 
facilities  for  bathing,  is  resided  in  by  .the 
wealthier  classes.  The  old  High  Street  of 
Portsmouth,  which  is  now  continuous  with 
the  Commercial  Road  from  the  Landport 
side,  forms  a  spacious  and  busy  central 
thoroughfare  2  miles  in  length,  with  nu- 
merous fine  buildings,  including  the  new 
and  old  post-office,  the  new  offices  of  the 
Waterworks  Company  and  Gas  Company, 
the  Central  or  Town  Railway  station,  the 
new  Government  House  with  its  pleasure- 
grounds,  the  quaint  old  building  occu- 
pied by  the  new  free  library,  and  the  grammar-school, 
which  was  founded  in  1732,  though  the  new  building  was 
opened  in   1879.      Since  the  demolition  of  the  anr.ient 


ramparts  ana  unwholesome  moats  a  few  years  ago  there 
have  sprung  up  a  handsome  people's  park  and  recreation 
grounds  for  the  naval  and  military  forces,  and  improve- 
ments are  still  being  vigorously  carried  forward.  Much  of 
the  Government  work  has  been  done  by  convict  labour, 
notably  at  the  north-east  of  Landport,  where  1300  convicts 
have  been  engaged  in  the  formation  of  a  new  island  (Whale 
Island),  on  which  gunnery  experiments  are  carried  out  in 
connexion  with  the  training-ships  of  the  gunnery  schooL 
The  towns  constitute  one  of  the  strongest  fortresses  of  the 
kingdom,  being  protected  by  a  chain  of  detached  forts,  the 
outer  line  of  which  on  the  land  side  north  of  the  harbour 
extends  along  the  Portsdown  Ridge,  the  inner  line  protect- 
ing the  approach  by  Stokes  Bay  and  Gosport  on  the  west 
side,  while  eastwards  are  the  Hilsea  lines,  within  which 
are  also  the  Royal  Artillery  and  cavalry  barracks  of  Hilsea 
and  the  powder-magazine  of  Tipner.  On  the  south  side 
the  forts  are  built  in  the  sea,  each  being  provided  with  an 
Artesian  well  sunk  into  the  seabed,  from  which  a  plentiful 
supply  of  fresh  water  can  at  all  times  be  obtained.  The 
coast  to  the  eastward  is  lined  by  the  forts  of  "Cumberland" 
and  "Southsea  Castle,"  which  complete  the  circle.  There 
are  8  barracks — 5  in  Portsmouth,  1  in  Southsea,  and  2  in 
Portsea — and  at  Eastney  are  the  extensive  buildings  which 
constitute  the  headquarters  of  the  Royal  Marine  Artillery; . 
on  the  Gosport  side  of  the  harbour  are  those  of  the  Ports- 
mouth division  of  the  Royal  Marines.  In  the  church  of  St 
Thomas  a  Becket  (12th  cent.)  the  chancel  and  transepts 
form  part  of  the  original  structure  ;  the  nave  and  tower 
were  erected  in  1698.  The  garrison  chapel  near  the  grand 
parade,  in  the  Early  English  style,  formed  originally  a 
portion  of  the  hospital  of  St  Nicholas  (1212),  and  was 
restored  in  1866.  Among  more  recent  buildings  may  be 
mentioned  the  new  jail  and  county  lunatic  asylum,  both 
situated  on  the  outskirts.  In  the  centre  of  the  town  and 
adjoining  the  people's  park  are  the  new  cathedral  and 
buildings  Of  the  Roman  Catholic  schools,  the  new  Pres- 


S^mUtrXiff^xu 


Plan  of  Portsmouth,  England. 

byterian  church,  the  seamen  aind  marines  orphan  schools, 
the  offices  of  the  board  of  guardians  and  the  borougll 
overseers.      At  Portsea  a  new  railway  station  has  been 


P  O  R- 

built  on  piles  driven  into  the  harbour  bed.  Besides  these, 
amongst  other  public  buildings  may  be  mentioned  the 
town-hall,  the  county  court,  and  the  theatre.  At  Portsea 
is  A.ria  College,  opened  in  187-t  for  the  training  of  Jewish 
ministers.  In  the  same  town  is  situated  the  convict 
prLsoD,  which  superseded  the  hulks  in  1852.  Landport 
has  a  freemasons'  hall  (1879-80),  and  a  people's  park  of 
eight  acres  opened  in  1878.  Southsea,  which  is  only  of 
recent  origin,  possesses  assembly-rooms  and  baths,  a  pier 
(1879),  and  a  fine  esplanade  2  miles  in  length.  Southsea 
Castle,  built  by  Henry  VIII.,  was  taken  by  the  Parlia- 
mentary forces  in  1642  and  partly  dismantled,  but  it  has 
now  been  refortified.  The  creek  which  formerly  separated 
Portsmouth  and  Portsea  was  filled  up  in  1876. 

The  port  of  Portsmouth  e.xtends  eastwards  9  miles  to 
Emsworth,  and  westwards  5  miles  to  Hill  Head  at  the 
entrance  to  Southampton  Water.  About  3  miles  to  the 
south  of  the  harbour  is  the  well-known  anchorage  of  Spit- 
head,  protected  by  the  Isle  of  Wight.  The  harbour,  one 
of  the  best  in  the  kingdoiu,  stretches  4  miles  inwards  to  the 
north-west  of  the  town,  with  an  entrance  220  yards  in 
breadth,  permitting  access  to  vessels  of  the  largest  tonnage 
at  low  tide.  There  is  an  anchorage  within  the  basin  at 
low  tide  of  380  acres,  and  a  portion  of  the  harbour  is  per- 
manently occupied  by  dismantled  vessels  and  the  reserved 
fleet  of  the  navy.  There  is  a  graving-dock  built  by  the  cor- 
poration, with  18  feet  of  water  on  the  blocks,  and  a  patent 
slip.  Extending  along  the  eastern  shore  are  the  ordnance 
gun  wharf  between  Portsmouth  and  Portsea  and  to  the 
north  of  it  the  great  naval  Government  dockyard,  which 
has  lately  been  much  enlarged  (see  Dockyaed,  vol.  vii^ 
313).  At  GospoET  (q.v.)  are  the  royal  Clarence  victualling 
yard  and  the  Haslar  hospital.  Portsmouth  has  a  consider- 
able trade  in  coal,  timber,  fruits,  and  agricultural  produce. 
In  1883  the  total  number  of  vessels  that  entered  the  port 
from  British  and  foreign  possessions  and  coastwise  was 
2094  of  210,210  tons  burden,  the  number  that  cleared  2079 
of  216,926  tons.  The  borough  of  Portsmouth  is  governed 
by  a  mayor,  fourteen  aldermen,  and  forty-two  councillors. 
The  area  of  the  borough  is  4320  acres,  with  a  population 
in  1871  of  113,509,  and  in  1881  of  127,989.  Of  the 
latter  number  120,022  were  included  in  Portsea. 

To  the  north  of  Portsmouth  harbour  is  Porchester  Castlo,  a  ruined 
Nonuau  fortress  occupying  the  site  of  the  Portus  Magnus  of  the 
Romans.  The  Saxon  Chronicle  mentions  the  arrival  of  Port  and 
his  two  sons  on  the  coast  in  501,  but  the  derivation  of  the  name 
Poytsmouth  is  too  evident  to  require  a  mythical  invention  to  ex- 
plain it.  Portsmouth,  though  a  small  to«n  soon  after  the  Norman 
invasion,  did  not  possess  a  church  till  1140.  It  received  its  fji'st 
charter  from  Richard  I.  In  the  beginning  of  the  13Ui  century  it 
had  f^rowu  to  bo  a  naval  station  of  some  importance,  and  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  king's  galleys  the  docks  were  enclosed  by 
a  sti'ong  \vall.  A  large  portion  of  the  town  was  burned  by  the 
French  in  1372.  Great  additions  were  made  to  the  fortifications 
by  Edward  IV.,  and  the  works  were  continued  by  later  sovereigns, 
especially  Elizabeth  and  James  II.  Its  importance  as  a  naval 
dockyard  commences  about  1544.  The  English  fleet  assembled  at 
Portsmouth  in  1545  before  the  naval  engagement  with  the  Frencli 
off  Spithead.  In  1628  Villii  rs,  duke  of  15uckingham,  when  on  the 
point  of  embarking  at  Portsmouth  with  the  army  for  the  relief  of 
Kochelle,  w.is  killed  by  Felton.  The  town  was  taken  by  the  Par- 
liamentary forces  in  1642.  In  1662  the  nuptials  of  Charles  II.  with 
Catherine  of  Braganza  w?rp  celebrated  at  Portsmouth  in  tlie  chapel 
of  the  garrison.  In  1782  tho  "  Royal  George,"  with  Admiral  Kern- 
pcnfeldt  on  board,  having  been  careened  to  stop  a  leak,  went  down 
in  th(  harbour.  About  1792  Portsea  began  to  bo  built  on  tho 
common  to  tho  north  of  the  town.  Among  eminent  persons  con- 
nected "ith  the  town  niention  may  bo  made  of  Charles  Dickons, 
Jena's  Ilanway,  Sir  Isambard  Brunei,  Sir  F.  Maiden. 

All.ii.  Il'tt ,11/  afPorlsn'tu'lx,  1817;  Saunders,  Annah  of  Pi,rtsmo\M,  1878. 

PORTSMOUTH,  a  city  and  port  of  entry  of  tho  United 
•Siatei,  one  of  the  two  shire-towns  of  Rockingham  county. 
New  Hampshire,  and  alternately  with  Concord  the  scat 
of  the  ^e.s^ioIls  of  the  United  States  courts  for  tlie  district 
of  New  Hampahiro,  lies  on  a  peninsula  on  the  right  bank 


0  R 


535 


of  tho  Piscataqua,  3  miles  from  its  mouth,  in  43'  4'  N. 
lat.  and  70°  45'  W.  long.  By  rail  it  is  57  miles  north- 
north-east  of  Boston.  Quiet  and  old-fashioned  beyond 
most  of  the  New  England  cities,  with  shaded  streets 
and  many  quaint  antique  houses,  survivals  from  colonial 
times,  Portsmouth  is  a  favourite  summer  resort.  Not- 
withstanding the  excellence  of  its  harbour — which  is 
from  35  to  75  feet  deep,  safe,  free  from  ice  at  all  seasons, 
and  capable  of  containing  2000  vessels — it  ha.s  very  little 
foreign  trade.  There  are  cotton-mills  (Kearsarge),  brew- 
eries, boot  and  shoe  factories,  and  some  other  industrial 
establishments  in  the  city;  and  shipbuilding,  which  i& 
the  principal  industry,  has  long  been  extensively  pros? 
cuted.  The  United  States  navy  yard,  though  situated  oil 
Continental  or  Navy  Island,  on  the  north  side  of  the  river,| 
in  the  township  of  Kittery  (Maine),  is  generally  knownl 
as  Portsmouth  yard.  It  contains  a  fine  balance  dry  dock, 
350  feet  by  105.  Among  the  more  conspicuous  buildings 
in  Portsmouth  are  the  old  church  of  St  John,  the  athen- 
asum  (15,000  volumes),  and  the  custom-house.  There  is 
a  public  library  of  8000  volumes.  At  Little  Harbour,  2 
miles  distant,  is  Governor  Wentworth's  mansion,  dating 
from  1750.  The  entrance  to  the  harbour  is  defended  by 
earthworks  at  Jaffrey's  Point  and  Gerrish's  Island.  The 
population  was  9738  in  1850,  9211  in  1870,  and  9690  in 
1880. 

Settled  in  1623  under  the  Laconia  Company,  Strawberry  Bank 
(as  it  was  first  called)  was  named  Portsmouth  in  1653,  and  incor- 
porated as  a  city  in  1849.  It  was  the  capital  of  the  colony  and 
State  pf  New  Hampshire  till  1807,  when  that  rank  was  bestowed 
on  Concord.  The  "  Ranger,"  afterwards  commanded  by  Paul  Jones, 
and  the  first  ship  to  carry  the  stars  and  stripes,  was  built  at  Ports- 
mouth for  the  American  Congress  in  1777.  The  ?!ew  Hampshire 
Gazette,  started  at  Portsmouth  in  1756,  is  the  oldest  of  all  the 
existing  newspapers  of  the  United  States,  and  tho  Porlsmo\Uh 
Jotmial,  established  in  1793,  is  also  still  published.  T.  B.  Aldrich, 
J.  T.  Fields,  Eliza  B.  Leo,  and  B.  P.  Shilla')er  ("JIrs  Partington") 
are  natives  of  the  city. 

PORTSMOUTH,  a  city  of  tho  United  States,  capital 
of  Scioto  county,  Ohio,  lies  at  tho  confluence  of  the  Scioto 
with  the  Ohio,  and  is  tho  southern  terminus  of  the  Ohio 
and  Erie  Canal,  and  of  a  branch  line  of  the  Cincinnati, 
Washington,  and  Baltimore  Railroad  (Hamden  to  Ports- 
mouth, 56  miles),  as  well  as  an  important  station  on  tlie 
Scioto  Valley  Railway.  As  the  caitrepot  for  the  rich 
mineral  regions  of  southern  Ohio  and  north-eastern  Ken- 
tucky, and  for  the  productive  valley  of  the  Scioto,  Ports- 
mouth has  a  largo  and  growing  trade  both  by  rail  and 
river;  and  it  also  contains  iron-furnaces,  rolling-mills, 
foundries,  saw-mills,  planing-mills,  breweries,  flour-mills, 
shoe-factories,  hub  and  spoke  factories,  ic.  Among  Uia 
public  buildings  are  an  opera-house  and  a  masonic  temple. 
Tho  charitable  institutions  include  a  hospital,  a  diildren'a 
home,  and  a  home  for  destitute  aged  women.  The  city 
has  also  two  libraries,  water-works,  and  tramways.  The 
population  was  6268  in  1860,  10,592  in  1870,  and  11,321 
in  1880.  Portsmouth  was  laid  out  in  1803,  and  tho 
charter  of  the  city  dates  from  1814. 

PORTSMOUTH,  a  city  of  tho  United  States,  capital 
of  Norfolk  county,  Virginia,  lies  on  tho  west  bank  of 
Elizabeth  river,  opposite  Norfolk.  It  ia  the  eastern 
terminus  of  tho  Seaboard  and  Roanoke  Railroad  (part  of 
a  great  passenger  route  between  Boston  and  New  Orleans), 
has  one  of  the  best  harbours  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  is  the 
seat  of  the  United  States  Gosport  navy  yard  (with  a  dry 
dock  built  of  granite  at  a  cost  of  $974,536,  and  a  large  naval 
hospital),  and  exports  cotton,  lumber,  pig-iron,  and  early 
vegetables.  The  population  was  9496  in  1860,  11,390  iii 
1880,  and  14,870  in  18S4.  Portsmouth  was  founded  in 
1752.  On  20th  April  18G1  tlfc  navy  yard— then  employ, 
ing  1000  men — was  destroyed  by  fire,  the  loss  being  estii 
mated  at  several  million  dollars. 


536 


PORTUGAL 

PART  I.— GEOGRAPHY  AND  STATISTICS. 


THE  kingdom  of  Portugal,  which  is  geographically  a 
province  of  the  Iberian  Peninsula  on  its  west  coast, 
is  bounded  on  the  N.  by  the  Spanish  province  of  Galicia, 
on  the  E.  by  the  Spanish  provinces  of  Leon,  Estremadura, 
and  Andalusia,  and  on  the  S.  and  W.  by  the  Atlantic 
Ocean.  It  lies  between  36°  56'  and  42°  10'  N.  lat.  and 
6°  15'  and  9°  30'  W.  long.  It  is  362  miles  in  length  by 
140  in  breadth,  and  contained  by  the  latest  (187o)  com- 
putation ^  34,419J  square  miles.  Its  coast-line  is  nearly 
500  miles  in  length,  and  only  one  province,  Tras-os-Montes, 
IS  not  washed  by  the  sea.  On  the  extreme  north  the  coast 
is  low,  but  farther  south  it  becomes  rocky  and  steep  for  a 
few  miles  near  Povoa  de  Varzim.  From  that  to^m  to  Cape 
Carboeiro  the  coast  of  Beira  is  flat,  sandy,  and  marshy, 
closely  resembling  the  French  Landes ;  after  another 
stretch  of  dunes  it  again  becomes  steep  and  rugged  from 
Cape  Roca  to  Cape  Espichel,  and  along  the  northern  side 
of  the  Bay  of  Setubal,  and  then  remains  low  throughout 
the  rest  of  the  coast-line  of  Estremadura  (Portuguese).  In 
Alemtejo  the  coast  is  low  and  in  places  rocky  and  fuU  of 
ahallows ;  and,  although  at  Cape  St  Vincent  the  cliffs  are 
steep  and  inaccessible,  the  general  coast-line  of  AJgarves, 
the  southernmost  province  of  Portugal,  is  low  and  sandy. 
The  chief  capes,  which  form  the  only  cliffs  on  the  other- 
wise flat  and  sandy  coast,  are  Cape  Mondego,  Cape  Car- 
boeiro, Cape  Roca,  Cape  Espichel,  Cape  Sines,  Cape  St 
Vincent,  and  Cape  Santa  Maria,  and  the  chief  bays  are 
those  of  Figueira,  Ericeira,  Setubal,  and  Sines.  The  only 
islands  off  the  coast  are  the  dangerous  Farilhoes  and  the 
Berlengas  off  Cape  Carboeiro,  which  would  be  uninhabited 
but  for  an  old  castle,  now  used  as  a  p^'ison,  on  the  largest 
island  of  the  latter  group. 

The  mountain-systems  of  Portugal  can  only  be  adequately 
treated  under  Spain  {q.v.),  as  they  are  in  every  instance 
continuations  to  the  west  or  south-west  of  the  great 
Spanish  ranges.  Thus  the  mountains  of  the  Cantabrian 
Pyi-enees  in  Galicia  spread  themselves  over  the  two  northern 
provinces  of  Portugal,  Entre  Minho  e  Douro  and  Tras-os- 
Montes,  in  various  short  ranges,  of  which  the  most  im- 
portant are  the  Serra  do  Gerez  (4815  feet)  and  the  Serra 
de  Marao  (4665  feet),  the  latter  extending  down  the  left 
bank  of  the  Tameja  and  sheltering  the  wine-districts  of 
Tras-os-Montes  from  the  east  winds.  In  Beira  the  granite 
Serra  da  Estrella  (6540  feet),  the  loftiest  range  in  Por- 
tugal, forms  part  of  the  system  of  the  Guadarramas  and 
a  continuation  of  the  Sierra  de  Gata,  and  terminates  in  the 
Serra  de  Lousao  (3940  feet),  while  the  chalk  mountains  in 
the  south  of  the  province,  such  as  the  Monte  Junto  near 
Santarem  (2185  feet)  and  the  Serra  de  Cintra,  which  runs 
into  the  sea  at  Cape  Roca,  belong  to  a  different  geological 
period.  The  chalk  mountains  of  the  Serfa  de  Arrabida 
(1537  feet)  to  the  south  of  the  Tagus  correspond  with  the 
Serra  de  Cintra,  and  form  Cape  Espichel ;  but  the  other 
low  ranges  to  the  south  of  the  river  in  Alemtejo,  such  as 
the  Serra  de  San  Slamede  (3363  feet)  and  the  Serra  de 
Ossa  (2130  feet),  belong  to  the  system  of  the  mountains 
of  Toledo.  The  continuation  of  the  Sierra  Morena,  which 
separates  Algarves  from  the  rest  of  Portugal,  forms  various 
small  ranges  and  isolated  mountains,  such  as  the  Serra  do 
ilalhSo  (1886  feet)  and  Monte  Figo,  and  then  closes  with 
the  Serra  de  Monehique  (29G3  feet)  and  runs  into  the  sea 
in  the  steep  cliffs  of  Cape  St  Vincent. 

The  river-system  of  Portugal  is  also  merely  a  portion 
of  that  of  Spain.  Its  three  most  im  .ortant  rivers,  the 
'  Strdbitbky,  Siipcrjii.ie  Ue  i'£i'  •ojjc,lii:2- 


Douro,  the  Tagus,  and  the  Guadiana,  all  rise  in  Spain  and 

flow  through  that  country ;  but  they  all  enter  the  sea  in 
Portugal,  and  at  the  mouths  of  the  Douro  and  the  Tagus 
are  situated  the  two  most  important  cities  of  the  kingdom, 
Oporto  and  Lisbon.  The  chief  Portuguese  tributaries  of 
the  Douro  are  the  Tameja,  the  Tua,  and  the  Sabor  on  the 
north,  and  the  Agueda,  the  Coa,  and  the  Paiva  on  the 
south ;  of  the  Tagus,  the  Elja,  the  Ponsul,  and  the  Zezere 
on  the  north,  and  the  Niza,  the  Sorraya,  and  the  Canha  on 
the  south  ;  while  into  the  Guadiana,  on  its  right  or  Port- 
uguese bank,  flow  the  Caia,  the  Oeiras,  and  the  Vascao. 
The  other  important  rivers  are  the  Minho,  which  forms  the 
boundary  of  Portugal  and  Galicia  in  the  lower  part  of  its 
course,  the  Limia,  the  Cavado,  the  Vouga,  and  the  Jlondego 
to  the  north  of  the  Tagus,  and  the  Sado,  the  Mira,  the 
Odelouca,  and  the  Silves  to  the  south  of  it.  Important 
as  are  the  rivers  of  Portugal,  it  has  no  inland  lakes  worthy 
of  mention,  though  it  abounds  in  hot  and  other  medicinal 
springs,  such  as  the  Caldas  de  Monehique ;  and  beautiful 
little  mountain -lakes  are  ntmierous  on  the  tops  of  the 
Serra  da  Estrella. 

The  climate  of  Portugal  is  particularly  equable  and 
temperate,  and  its  salubrious  qualities  were  recognized  by 
the  English  doctors  of  the  18th  century,  who  used  to  send 
many  patients  to  winter  there,  including  Fielding  the 
novelist ;  and,  though  Portugal  has  been  superseded  as  a 
winter  resort  by  the  Riviera  and  Algiers,  there  are  signs 
that  it  may  again  become  a  European  health-resort  of 
the  first  importance.  To  prove  the  temperate  nature  of 
the  climate  it  is.  not  enough  to  state  that  the  average 
mean  temperatures  of  Lisbon,  Coimbra,  and  Oporto  are 
6r-3,  6r'l,  and  60°'2  Fahr.  respectively;  more  instruct- 
ive is  it  to  mention  that  the  mean  average  temperature 
for  the  month  of  January  is  only  50°'2  at  both  Coimbra 
a»d  Oporto,  and  for  July  only  69°'4  and  70°'3  for  the 
same  two  cities,  showing  a  difference  between  summer 
and  winter  of  about  20°.  This  equability  of  temperature 
is  partly  caused  by  the  very  heavy  rainfall  which  is  pre- 
cipitated on  Portugal  as  one  of  the  most  westerly  king- 
doms of  Europe  and  one  most  exposed  to  the  Atlantic, 
and  which  has  reached  as  much  as  16  feet  in  a  year; 
but  it  is  noticeable  that  this  heavy  rainfall  comes  down  in 
gradual  showers  spread  over  the  whole  year,  and  not  in 
the  torrents  of  the  tropics.  This  great  humidity  has  its 
drawbacks  as  well  as  its  advantages,  for,  though  it  makes 
the  soil  rich,  it  produces  also  heavy  fogs,  which  render  the 
Portuguese  coast  exceedingly  dangerous  to  ships.  This 
charming  climate  and  equability  of  temperature  are  not, 
however,  universal  in  Portugal ;  they  are  to  be  enjoyed 
mainly  in  the  highlands  of  Beira,  Estremadura,  and  in 
the  northern  provinces,  especially  at  Cintra  and  Coimbra. 
In  the  deep  valleys,  even  of  those  favoured  provinces 
where  the  mountains  keep  off  the  cool  winds,  it  is  ex- 
cessively hot  in  summer ;  while  on  the  summits  of  the 
mountains  snow  lies  for  many  months,  and  it  is  often 
extraordinarily  cold.  Even  in  Lisbon  itself  the  tempera- 
ture, though  its  mean  is  only  the  same  as  that  of  Coimbra, 
varies  from  3S°-1  in  January  to  90°"6  Fahr.  in  July,  a 
difference  of  more  than  60°  In  Alemtejo  the  climate 
is  very  unfavourable,  and,  though  the  heat  is  not  so  great 
as  in  Algarves,  the  country  presents  a  far  more  deserted 
and  African  appearance,  while  in  winter,  when  heavy  raina 
swell  the  Tagus  and  make  it  overflow,  its  banks,  damp 
unhealthy  swamps  are  left,  which  breed  malaria.  Not- 
withstanding that  Algarves  is  hotter  than  Alemtejo,  anj 


X 


feTXTISTICS.] 


PORTUGAL 


537 


the  climate  there  very,  sultry  owing  to  the  sea-breezes 
being  intercepted  by  the  Serra  de  Monchique  and  other 
mountains,  a  profuse  vegetation  takes  away  much  of  the 
tropical  effect,  so  that  it  is  a  far  shadier  and  more  agree- 
able province  than  Alemtejo.  Although  such  a  rainy 
country,  Portugal  is  very  rarely  visited  by  thunderstorms  ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  shocks  of  earthquake  are  frequently 
felt,  and  recall  the  great  earthquake  of  Lisbon  in  1755. 

The  geology,  flora,  and  fauna  of  Portugal  are  essentially 
tlic  same  as  those  of  Spain,  and  will  be  studied  under 
Spain  ('{.v.). 

Population. — The  population  of  Portugal,  according  to 
the  census  of  1st  January  1878,  was  4,160,315,  and  in 
1S81  it  was  calculated  to  be  4,306,55-1,  or  125  persons  to 
the  square  mile.  The  following  is  a  table  of  the  popula- 
tions of  the  different  provinces  and  districts  according  to 
the  census  of  1878  and  the  official  estimate  of  1881  :— 


ViannadoCastelloJ 
Drasa    . . 
Piirfo.... 
Villa  Real 
Bragaiiza 

■  Alta 
Ceira 


Population. 
1831. 


Avciio  \ 
Viseu  V 
&.iiiibra  J 
la  i 
llo  \ 

ICO  J 


Guanla 
Caste: 
Branco 
Leiria 
Santarem  . . 
Lisbon  . . . . 
Port  Alegre 
Evora    . . . . 

Beja  

Faro 


I3aixa_ 
Beira  " 


211 

336, 

460, 

225,1 

171, 

270, 

387, 

307, 

234, 

178, 

199, 
227, 
518 
105 
112, 
Hi), 
204 


,539) 
548  1 
981  ) 
090  \: 

5S6  I  j 
266\ 
203  1 
426  1 
,363  f 
164 

,015  ■) 
.943  [• 
,884) 
.247) 
,735  \ 
,167  J 


Population. 


1678. 


1881. 


EntreMinhocDouro     S82,735 
Tras-03-Montes 393,279 


Beira. 


Estremadura  . 


Alemtejo . 
Algarves  . 


Portugal  . . . 
Azores  1  . 
Madeira  . 


1,014, 

396, 


1,323,134 


350,103 

199,142 

4,160,315 
259,800 
130,684 


1,377,432 


4,306,554 
269.401 
132,223 


4,550,699  4,708.178 


According  to  the  census  of  1878  the  following  towns,  had 
a  population  of  more  than  10,000  each  : — Lisbon,  246,343; 
Oporto,  105,838;  Braga,  19,755;  Setubal,  14,798;  Louie, 
14,448;  Coimbra,  13,369;  Evora,  13,046;  Tavira,  11,459; 
Covilha,  10,809;  Elvas,  10,471;  Povoa  de  Varzim,  10,365; 
Ovar,  10,022. 

The  ethnological  composition  of  the  population  is  most 
mixed  :  in  the  two  northern  provinces  the  population  is 
essentially  Galician,  bnt  farther  south  the  mi.vture  be- 
comes obvious  ;  not  only  did  the  conquering  Portuguese 
largely  intermarry  with  the  Arabs,  but  in  the  places  where 
they  exterminated  them  they  replaced  them  by  colonies 
of  cru.saders  of  all  nations,  chiefly  French,  English,  Dutch, 
and  Frisian,  who  have  left  their  mark  on  the  features  and 
character  of  the  nation,  and  they  also  largely  intermarried 
with  the  Jews.  No  Jews  were  so  wealthy  or  so  cultivated 
as  those  of  Portugal,  who,  though  for  many  centuries 
keeping  strictly,  apart  from  the  Christians,  yet  after  their 
forced  conversion  or  expulsion  by  King  Emmanuel  largely 
intermarried,  especially  with  the- people  of  Lisbon.  Farther 
south  an  African  physiognomy  appears,  derived  from  the 
thousands  of  negro  slaves  ini|)orted  to  till  Alemtejo  and 
Algarves,  from  the  days  of  Dom  Henry  till  the  dcclino  of 
the  Portuguese  power. 

Enii^'ration  is  tliiiuiiiif;  tlic  riopiiLilion,  or  ratlicr  kccpiii:,'  it  from 
rapiilly  incrcasiiiij;  .111*1  tlifi  follou-iii;;  .irc  tlio  results  of  the  statistics 
imlilisheil  by  tlm  h'oyal  Gooi^rniiliiciil  Society  of  Lisbon  for  1872-81. 
There  cmij;rate<l  in  the  ten  years  between  1871  ami  1881  IVoin  Eiitie 
Minho  c  Douro  51,5)1  persons,  from  Tras-os- Monies  7799,  from 
IJeira  31,437,  from  Estremadiiia  12,769,  from  Alemtejo  42,  from 
Algarves  225,  from  the  Azores  22,794,  from  Madeira  til  10,  iimkin" 
a  fiianil  total  of  133,007.  Of  these  emigrants  129,519  were  bound 
for  America,  the  whole  number  in  all  probability  for  llio  Hrazila, 

'  The  Azores  and  Madeira  are  rog.ardcd  as  colonics  and  as  an  integral 
part  of  the  country. 

!••     2(1* 


3348  for  the  Portuf^ese  colonies  in  Africa,  and  95  for  Asia.  It  will 
be  noticed  that  the  majority  of  these  emigrants  come  from  tha 
wealthy  northern  provinces  and  the  sober  population  of  Entro  Minho 
e  Douro,  while  the  number  from  the  fever -stricken  Alemtejo  is 
practically  nil. 

Colonics.  —  See  Azores,  Cape  Verd  Islands,  Goa,  Macao, 
Maueiiia,  Mozambique,  and  Colony  (vol.  vi.  p.  161). 

Comjncrce. — The  commerce  of  Portugal  has  not  rapidly,  though 
it  has  steadily,  increased  during  the  last  thirty  years  ;  the  chief 
countries  with  which  it  trades  are,  in  order  of  value,  England  and 
her  colonies,  Brazil,  the  United  States,  France,  and  Spain  ;  but  it 
is  hardly  fair  to  mention  commerce  with  Spain,  because  the  large 
amount  of  smuggling  which  takes  place  makes  it  impossible  to 
estimate  the  real  amount  of  trade  between  the  two  countries. 
The  following  table  of  exports  and  imports  in  nineteen  classes, 
compiled  by  Jlr  George  Brackenbury,  jjritish  consul  at  Lisbon, 
dated  24th  April  1884,  is  published  in  the  Consular  Reports  for 
,1884,  and  contains  the  latest  information  on  Portuguese  trade  and 
commerce.  It  will  be  noticed  that  the  chief  imports  are  bread- 
stuffs,  metals,  cottons,  and  minerals,  and  the  chief  exports  fer- 
mented liquors,  live  stock  (which  ia  nearly  all  sent  to  England^ 
and  timber. 


Tariff  Classes. 

Imports. 

Exports.            1 

1SS2. 

1S83. 

1882. 

1883. 

£228,3292 
423,204 
S45,432 
495,441 
202,551 
850,363 
169,986 
230,514 

1,694,163 
752,145 
166,183 

1,057,334 

493,736 

44,031 

81,016 

102,120 

76,125 
133,844 

637,234 

£221,903 
392,101 
325,304 
614,166 
212,818 
870,001 
169,944 
230,093 

1,272,540 
684,921 
171,956 

1,369,768 

625,770 

27,848 

64,728 

103,496 

73,658 
117,699 

468,459 

£605,916 

138,397 

141,160 

69,058 

13,638 

19,743 

6,654 

602,116 

93,466 

30,393 

401,222 

616,189 

348,823 

2,217,611 

4,353 

16,473 

89,445 
7,«93 

89,702 

£640,950 

105,798 

152,104 

68,644 

6,554 

15,498 

6,940 

686.272 

74,452 

20,511 

336,704 

148,569 

341,072 

2,479,218 

3,854 

11,551 

98,029 
7,852 

70,114 

4.  Wool  and  liair 

5.  Silk 

7.  Flax  and  similar  materials 

10.  Colonial  produce  (so  called; 

11.  Divers  vegetable  substances 

12.  Metals  

14.  Fermented  liquors 

15.  Glass  and  ceramic  ware 

16.  Paper,  and  manufactures  in 

which  it  is  used 

17.  Chemical  products 

18.  Produce  and  compositions 

of  various  kinds 

19.  Manufactures    of    various 

materials 

Total.... 

£8,083,751 

£7,813,178 

£5,601,012 

£6,162,686 

Agriculture. — The  state  of  agriculture  in  Portugal  is  still  deplor- 
able ;  the  wealth  and  energy  oif  the  country  have  teen  thrown  into 
the  wine  trade,  and  the  production  and  cultivation  of  cereals  have 
been  so  much  neglectcu  that,  in  spite  of  its  being  eminently 
adapted  for  such  cultivation,  nearly  all  its  cereals  are  imported 
from  the  United  States,  to  the  value  in  1883  of  over  £1,000,000. 
The  wino  production,  on  which  Portugal  has  so  long  depended,  was 
the  work  of  the  Methuen  treaty  of  1703,  for  it  was  not  until  after 
that  treaty  that  the  barren  rocks  of  the  Alto  Douro  were  covered 
with  vines.  But  now,  though  the  returns  show  slight  alteration, 
there  nuist  soon  be  a  great  change.  The  pliylloxera  has  utterly 
destroyed  thousands  of  vineyards  in  Entre  Minho  e  Douro  and  in 
Beira.  The  labours  of  the  phylloxera  commission  seem  unable  to 
check  its  ravages  ;*  the  commissioners  themselves  are  hindered  by 
the  people, — an  inspector  having  been  even  shot  at  in  the  district  o( 
Uiguengo.*  The  rea.son  why  no  great  alteration  is  to  be  perceived  in 
the  returns  is  that  the  great  Oporto  shippers  have  such  vast  stockg 
that  it  may  be  years  belbro  the  want  comes  to  be  felt.  To  remedy 
the  failure,  which  can  be  only  a  matter  of  time,  tobaoco-giowinc  \\&a 
been  proposed  (see  Consul  Crawfurd's  licporl),  and  will  probably  b« 
tried  in  place  of  vine-culture.  Portugal  has  lately, become  a  great 
exporter  of  live  stock  to  England,  as  also  of  larpe  quantities  of  fruitji 
and  early  vegetables,  including  oranges  (especially  from  Condeixa), 
lemons,  limes,  peaches  (from  Amarante),  and  the  celebrated  Elvas 
plums.  The  difference  in  the  character  of  the  inhabitants  of  dif. 
fcrent  provinces  is  well  shown  by  the  fact  that  in  the  north  th» 
peasant  not  only  tends  his  vines  but  in  many  instances  rears  silk- 
worms and  even  possesses  oiive  trees,  while  in  Alemtejo  ho  is  content 
to  live  upon  chestnuts  and  to  take  caro  of  his  piga  and  goats. 

ilanufactiircs. — Nothing  proves  moro  decidedly  the  ngriculturnl 
character  of  the  Portuguese  than  the  repeated  failures  to  establish 
manufactures  among  them.  This  has  oftvn  been  ascribed  to  til* 
provision  respecting  the  importation  of  English  goods  in  tin 
Jlethuen  treaty  ;  but  not  all  the  elforts  of  Pombal  or  of  the  modern 
protectionist  cabinet!  have  been  able  to  establish  any  important 
manufactures.  The  following  table,  extracted  from  Consul  Brackcm 
bury 'a  Ucport,  gives  a  list  of  the  chief  cstabliuhmenis — for  niaiiu* 

'  In  the  Consular  Jleuorts  1  milrei  ia  taken  to  be  equivalent  W 
49.  5!id. 
'  See  Consul  Crawfurd's  lieport,  Oporto,  1S84. 
''  Mr  B-.riiig's  liepurt. 


638 


PORTUGAL 


[statistics. 


facwries  they  can  hardly'b'e  called— in  Portugal,  with  the  number 
of  workmen  and  the  value  of  the  products. 


Carpentering 

Wax  products 

Ceramic  ware 

Building  

Corlc-»orks 

Tanneries     

Distilleries  

Food  products    

Metallurgy  .■■• 

Flour,  ic,  mills    

Paper  factories  

Firewood-making 

Soap-works - 

Tobacco-works  

Cotton,  linen,  &c.,  weaving. . . 

Woollen-weaving   

Bilk-weaving   ■■ 

Typographical  establishments 

Clothing   

Gla5S-works    

Various  industries    


Total. 


Number 

of 
Factories. 


S3 
21 
43 

61 
22 
93 
79 
67 

171 
62 
SI 
18 
13 
22 
97 

161 
24 
66 

134 

5 

S7 


Opera- 
tives. 


6,109 

39 

2,045 

6,748 

1,612 

S23 

36-1 

2,367 

5,215 

3,182 

1,364 

206 

83 

4,021 

39,597 

8,964 

854 

591 

6,328 

903 

1,503 


1150 


90,918 


Daily 
Wages, 


£256 
2 
97 
459 
62 
44 
31 
116 
325 
12 


252 
330 
736 
53 
42 
150 
28 
22 


Value  of 
Products 


£165,006 

12,6«4 

72,079 

63,684 

224,672 

323,489 

101,924 

617,392 

439,669 

125,467 

93,293 

6,977 

74,204 

1,249,236 

1,152,752 

864,518 

51,393 

32,444 

348,073 

37,417 

117,435 


£6,073,658 


'•Some  of  these  establishments  ought  to  be  more  successful,  for 
(he  glass-works  of  Leiria,  the  lace-works  of  Viauna  and  Peniche, 
and  the  potteries  of  Aveiro  had  an  immense  reputation  in  the  18th 
century,  which  they  have  now  lost,  as  the  table  clearly  shows. 
Portugal  possesses  plenty  of  mineral  wealth,  though  not  so  much 
as  Spain,  but  from  want  of  capital  and  enterprise  such  resources 
as  exist  are  neglected.  A  very  few  of  the  chief  mines  may  be 
noted— the  lead-mines  of  Coimbra,  one  of  antimony  near  Oporto, 
and  above  all  the  very  important  copper-mines  of  San  Domingos 
hear  Beja,  worked  by  an  English  company,  which  contributed 
thirteen-sixteenths  of  the  total  exports  of  minerals  in  the  six 
;inonths  between  January  and  June  18S3.  Of  greater  importance 
'are  the  fisheries,— the  fishermen  both  of  Beira  and  Algarves  being 
famous  for  their  courage  ;  and  large  quantities  of  sardines  and 
preserved  tunny  fish  are  exported  to  Italy  and  France,  and  an  even 
larger  quantity  of  oysters  to  England. 

FiTWice.—The  revenue  of  Portugal  has  for  many  years  ceased  to 
balance  its  expenditure,  and  the  deficit  has  had  to  be  met  by 
borrowing,  but  it  is  only  fair  to  remark  that  vigorous  attenipts 
have  been  made  to  reduce  the  expenditure  of  recent  years.  The 
estimated  revenue  for  1883-84  and  1884-85  was  classified  under  six 
heails. 


1333-1884. 

1884-1885. 

£1,387,790 

763,777 

3,643.811 

240,889 

655,573 

238,069 

£1,395,753 

721,778 

3,587,136 

234,889 

801,449 

244,788 

Additional  G  per  cent,  (since  27th  April 
1882) 

Repayments 

r 

Total  ordinary  revenue  — 

£6,929,909       - 

£6,985,793 

A  few  of  the  sub-heads  which  help  to  swell  these  various  classes 
of  revenue  are  worth  detailing. 


1883-1884. 

1884-1SS5. 

Direct  rax«— 

£700,444 
243,222 
88,322 
83,773 
66,889 
3S,4S9 
40,667 
23,333 

1,637.555 

703,555 

302,667 

297,773 

220,000 

128,444 

00,000 

62,844 

43,889 

274,673 
151,671 
04,444 
31,111 

197,976 

£700,444 
250,000 
89,044 
86,556 
67,667 
36,791 
41,222 
23,111 

1,647,112 

713,467 

287,222 

311,333 

214,222 

145,496 

25.778 

48,089 

46,222 

281.756 
177,778 
60,000 
33,333 

197,973 

Bonk  isx                            

TiUea  «nd  concessions  tax    

ServiutB  and  carriage  tax     

IfiHirect  taxes— 

Octroi  at  Lisbon 

"Real  d«  agua"    

Si>ecial  2  per  cent,  on  export  of  wine 
Domains  and  sundries— 
Railw  ys                           - 

Suppressed  religious  establishments 
Repayments- 
Interest    on    stock    held    by    the 

The  last  item  deserves  particular  notice,  as  it  proves  the  confused 
manner  in  which  Portuguese  financiers  keep  their  accounts  ;  they 
prefer  to  pay  into  their  treasury  interest  on  bonds  held  bv  it, 
instead  of  extinguishing  that  amount  of  the  national  debt. 

Against  this  revenue  must  be  set  the  expenditure  (which  always 
exceeds  it),  causing  a  deficit  of  £194,141  on  the  ordinary  balanoe- 
shcet,  and  of  £1,558,142  when  the  extraordinaiy  expenditure  is 
taken  into  account,  in  1884-85.'  The  chief  items  in  the  estimates 
forthat  year  compared  with  the  estimates  for  1883-84  are- 


Public  debt  (ol  which  interest  on  debt  took  up 
£2,S82,769  in  1883-84  and  £2,882,734  in  1884-85) 

Ministry  of  finance    

Ministry  of  the  interior   

Ministry  of  justice 

Ministry  of  war 

Ministry  of  the  marine  and  colonies    

Ministry  of  foreign  affairs    

Ministry  of  public  worka    

Total 


1883-1884.      1S84-M85. 


£2,901,850 

1,329,208 
482,565 
142,455 

1,019,621 
379.120 
70,065 
618,405 


£2,909,712 

1,463,955 
491,787 
149,233 

1,079,683 

372,528 

73,327 

639,709 


£6,943,469     £7,179,934 


Under  the  head  of  the  "ministry  of  finajice"  there  was  an  esti- 
mated sum  of  £600,367  in  1883-84  and  of  £572,202  in  1884-85  for 
interest  of  debt,  ivhich  in  any  other  system  of  finance  would  have 
been  put  down  to  the  head  of  "public  debt."  The  extraordinar) 
expenditure  was  estimated  to  aniount  to  £1,364,000  in  1884-85, 
the  chief  items  of  which  were  for  the  ministry  of  public  works, 
chiefly  spent  on  the  fortifications  of  Lisbon,  and  for  the  minister 
of  the  colonies,  for  in  only  two  colonies — Cape  Verd  Islands  and 
Macao — do  the  colonial  revenues  meet  their  expenditure,  the  mother- 
country  having  to  afford  substantial  help  to  ber  African  colonies* 
every  year.     The  estimated  balance-sheet  for  1884-85  was — 

Ordinary  expenditure £7,179,934 

Revenue   6,985,793 


Deficit   £194,141 

It  is  very  r'ifficult  to  give  any  exact  estimate  of  the  extent  of  the 
public  debt  of  Portugal  owir;  to  the  financial  confusions  noted 
above,  but  on  30th  June  1883  it  was  estimated  at  £96,175.692 
namely — 

Internal  debt,  new  3  per  cents   £52,369,291 

External  debt 43,372,530 

Old  debt,  to  be  converted    433,871 


Total £96,175,692 

but  of  this  amount  the  treasury  holds  about  £8,000,000. 

Government. — The  government  of  Portugal  is  an  hereditary  and 
constitutional  monarchy,  exercised  under  the  charter  of  1826.  as 
modified  in  1852  and  1878,  under  which  the  king  is  charged  with 
the  executive  and  shares  the  power  of  making  laws  with  twc 
chambers.  His  civil  list  amounts  to  £144,000  a  year,  and  he  ia. 
advised  in  all  matters  of  administration  and  assisted  in  nominating 
peers  by  a  council  of  state  appointed  for  life,  but  depends  for  advice 
in  legislative  and  executive  matters  on  a  cabinet  of  seven  members 
selected  from  the  chambers  by  a  premier,  summoned  by  the  king. 
The  House  of  Peers  consists  of  150  members  nominated  by  the 
king  for  life,  and  contains  many  of  the  most  eminent  professors 
and  authors,  as  well  as  men  of  wealth,  and  additions  may  be  made 
to  its  number  by  the  king  on  the  advice  of  the  premier,  with  the 
consent  of  the  council  of  state.  All  the  members  of  the  House  of 
Peers  do  not  possess  titles,  nor  do  all  titled  persons  belong  to  the 
House  of  Peei-s;  legislation  and  the  titular  and  hereditary  aristo- 
cracy are  kept  quite  apart.  The  House  of  Deputies  consists  of  173 
members,  elected  directly  by  all  male  citizens  of  twenty-five  years 
of  age,  either  paying  in  direct  taxes  4s.  6d.  a  year,  or  deriving  an 
annual  income  of  22s.  from  real  estate,  while  all  graduates,  priests, 
officers,  and  certified  teachers  have  votes  without  further  qualifica- 
tion. The  president  of  the  chamber  is  selected  by  the  king  out 
of  five  elected  candidates,  and  the  deputies  are  paid.  The  Azores 
and  Madeira  elect  members  to  the  House  at  Lisbon.  For  adminis- 
trative purposes  Portugal  is  divided  into  seventeen  districts,  for 
judicial  purposes  into  twenty -six  districts  or  "comarcas,"  with 
appeal  courts  at  Lisbon  and  Oporto,  and  a  supreme  court  at  Lis- 
bon, and  for  military  purposes  into  four  divisions.  The  Roman 
Catholic  is  the  state  religion,  but  others  are  tolerated,  and  the 
power  of  the  priests  has  becu  greatly  checked  by  the  wholesale 
suppression  of  monasteries  in  1834.  The  church  in  Portugal  is 
governed  by  a  patriarch  at  Lisbon,  two  archbishops  at  Braga  and 
Evora,  and  fourteen  bishops,  of  whom  the  most  important  is  tho 
bishop  of  Oporto.  For  purposes  of  local  government  the  districts 
are  under  the  rule  of  civil  governors,  wbo  have  much  the  same 
powers  as  prefects  in  France,  while  in  the  292  "concelhos,"  or 
aihninistiative  councils,  there  are  elected  councillors,  and  in  the 
3960  "  freguezias  "  or  parishes  the  villagers  elect  a  magistrate,  who 
has  the  same  powers  as  an  English  justice  of  the  peace. 

Army  and  Navy. — Under  n  decree  dated  19th  May  1884  the 
Portuguese  army  has  been  reorganized.  The  effective  war  strength  i 
is  to  be  maintained  at  120.000  men.     The  term  of  service  is  for  12 


I 


BI8T0BY.] 


PORTUGAL 


539 


years,  of  wjiicli  3  are  to  be  with  the  colours,  5  in  the  6rst  rescrre, 
and  4  in  the  second  reserve.  The  force  is  divided  into  36  regiments 
of  infantry,  10  regiments  of  cavalry,  i  regiments,  1  brigade,  and 
i  companies  of  artillery,  and  1  regiment  of  engineers.  In  1883, 
under  the  old  regulations,  the  arnjy  contained  41  general  officers  ; 
Hs  effective  strength  in  time  of  peace  was  33,231  men  with  1643 
officers,  and  on  a  war  footing  75,336  men  with  2688  officers.  For 
colonial  service  there  is  one  regiment  of  1143  soldiers  and  50  officer's 
divided  into  3  battalions,  of  which  one  is  always  stationed  at  Goa 
and  another  at  Macao.  The  officers  are  trained  in  the  military 
academy  at  Lisbon,  and  there  is  an  asylum  for  the  sons  of  soldiers. 
The  nary  is  no  longer  the  power  it  used  to  be,  but,  though  small, 
it  is  equipped  in  modern  fashion  and  furnished  by  the  naval 
arsenal  at  Lisbon.  It  consisted  in  1884  of  30  steamships,  of  which 
one  was  an  armoured  corvette  mounting  7  euns,  and  5  others  cor- 
vettes mounting  46  guns,  and  of  14  sailing  ships,  of  which  one  was 
8  frigate  mounting  19  guns.  Its  personnel  consisted  of  283  officers 
aiid  3235  sailors. 

Public  iTtstrudion. — The  public  instruction  of  Portugal  is  regu- 
lated by  the  law  of  1844,  which  enacted  that  all  children  should 
be  bound  to  attend  a  primary  school,  if  there  was  one  within  a 
mile,  from  the  age  of  seven  to  fifteen,  under  penalty  to  the  parents 
of  a  fine  and  deprivation  of  civil  rights.  Under  this  Jaw  there 
were  in  Portugal,  in  1874,  ?649  primary  schools  with  122,004  pupils 
of  both  sexes.  Secondary  education  is  not  neglected,  and  under 
the  same  law  of  1844  17  lycees  have  been  established  in  the  seven- 
teen continental  districts,  and  from  them  it  is  possible  for  a  pupil 
to  enter  either  the  university  of  Coimbra,  which  during  the  present 
century  has  recovered  some  of  its  ancient  lustre,  or  the  special 
schools.  These  special  schools  are  very  ably  conducted,  and  modern 
Portuguese  policy  gives,  as  we  have  seen,  a  higher  status  to  teachers 


and  professoi-s  of  all  grades  than  thev  obtain  in  most  other  countries. 
The  most  important  of  these  schools  are  the  polytechnic  school  at 
Lisbon,  the  polytechnic  academy  at  Oporio,  the  medical  schools 
and  industrial  institutes  in  both  these  cities,'the  institute-general 
of  agriculture,  the  royal  and  marine  observatories,  and  the  academy 
of  fine  arts— all  four  at  Lisbon.  The  valuable  public  libraries  of 
Lisbon,  Evora,  Villa  Real,  and  Braga,  supported  by  the  state,  aud 
in  addition  the  free  library  at  Oporto,  ought  also  to  be  mentioned,  as 
well  as  the  archives  at  the  Toire  del  Tombo,  with  whicli  a  schoo" 
of  paleography  and  diplomacy  has  lately  been  connected. 

Public  Works. — On  1st  Januair  1884  there  were  1245  miles  o 
railway  open  (944)  and  in  course  of  construction  (301),  also  50  mile 
of  tramways  were  open,  and  2900  miles  of  telegiaph  were  in 
operation ;  and  every  recent  loan  has  been  raised  for  the  purpose  of 
extending  these  important  public  works.  The  chief  lines  of  rail- 
way open  are  those  from  Lisbon  to  Valencia  de  Alcantara,  and  thenco 
by  Talavera  to  Madrid,  and  from  Lisbon  to  Oporto,  Tua,  Nine,  and 
Braga,  while  the  line  to  Faro,  w  hich  is  to  connect  Algarves  with 
the  capital,  has  been  already  extended  beyond  Beja  as  far  as  CaseveL 
There  is  also  an  alternative  line  to  Madrid  open  through  Elvas  and 
Badajoz,  which  connects  Lisbon  with  the  Andalusian  system  and 
gives  a  short  route  to  Seville,  Cadiz,  and  Malaga.  As  "to  smaller 
lines  opening  up  Beira,  the  line  from  Figueira  da  Foz  to  Villar 
Formosa  through  Celorico  and  Guarda  is  completed,  and  one  is 
projected  parallel  to  the  Lisbon-Oporto  line  from  Tillar  Formosa 
to  Alcantara  on  the  south,  which  is  to  be  connected  with  Oporto 
through  Tua  towards  the  west.  The  telegraph  system  is  already 
very  complete,  and  the  last  touch  has  been  put  to  it  by  laying 
down  a  submarine  cable  from  Lisbon  to  Rio  de  Janeiro,  binding 
the  mother-country  still  more  closely  with  what  was  once  her 
greatest  colony.  (H.  M.  S. ) 


PAET  n.— HISTORY. 


It  has  been  stated  that  geographically  the  kingdom  of 
Portugal  IS  .an  integral  part  of  the  Iberian  Peninsula ;  the 
only  reason  why  it  has  retained  its  independence,  while 
the  other  mediaeval  states  of  that  peninsula  have  merged 
into  the  kingdom  of  Spain,  is  to  be  found  in  its  history. 
AVhen  Philip  II.  of  Spain  annexed  Portugal  it  was  a 
century  too  late  for  it  to  coalesce  with  Spain.  It  had  then 
produced  Vasco  de  Garaa  and  Affonso  de  Albuquerque, 
and  its  language  had  been  developed  from  a  Romance 
dialect  into  a  literary  language  by  Camoens  and  SA  de 
Miranda.  Conscious  of  its  national  history,  it  broke  away 
again  from  Spain  in  1640,  and  under  the  close  alliance  of 
England  maintained  its  separate  and  national  existence 
diuing  the  18th  century.  A  union  with  Spain  might 
have  been  possible,  however,  during  the  first  half  of  the 
present  century  had  not  a  generation  of  historians  and 
poets  arisen,  who,  by  recalling  the  great  days  of  the  Portu- 
guese monarchy,  have  made  it  impossible  for  Portugal  ever 
again  to  lose  the  consciousness  of  her  national  existence. 

The  history  of  Portugal  really  begins  with  the  gift  of  the 
fief  of  the  Terra  Portucalensis  or  the  county  of  Porto  Cale 
to  Count  Henry  of  Burgundy  in  1094  ;  for  any  attempt 
to  identify  the  kingdom  of  Portugal  and  the  Portuguese 
people  with  Lusitania  and  the  Lusitanians  is  utterly  with- 
out foundation.  With  the  rest  of  the  Iberian  Peninsula, 
Portugal  was  colonized  by  the  Phoenicians  and  conquered 
by  the  Carthaginians ;  and  the  Roman  province  of  Lusi- 
tania, whether  according  to  the  division  of  Iberia  into  three 
provinces  under  Augustus  or  into  five  under  Hadrian,  in 
no  way  coincided  with  the  historical  limits  of  the  kingdom 
of  Portugal.  In  common  with  the  rest  of  the  Peninsula, 
it  was  overrun  by  the  Vandals,  Alans,  and  Visigoths,  and 
eventually  conquered  by  the  Arabs  in  the  Sth  century.  It 
was  not  until  the  15th  century  that  an  attempt  was  made 
by  Garcia  de  Menezes  to  identify  Lusitania  with  Portugal. 
Under  the  influence  of  the  Renaissance,  Bernardo  de  Brito 
insisted  on  the  identity,  and  claimed  Viriathus  as  a  Portu- 
guese hero.  Other  writers  of  the  same  epoch  delighted  in 
calling  Portugal  by  the  classical  name  of  "  Lusitania,"  and 
Camoens,  by  the  very  title  of  his  great  eoic,  Os  Lusiadas, 
has  immortalized  the  appellation. 

For  two  centuries  Portugal  remained   subject  to  the 


Omayyad  caliphs,  and  under  their  wise  rule  the  old 
Roman  colonise  and  municipia,  such  as  Lisbon,  Lamego, 
Viseu,  and  Oporto,  maintained  their  Roman  self-govern- 
ment and  increased  in  wealth  and  importance.  Towards 
the  close  of  the  10th  century,  as  the  Omayyad  caliphate 
grew  weaker,  the  Christian  princes  of  Visigothic  descent 
who  dwelt  in  the  mountains  of  the  Asturias  be^an  to  grow 
more  audacious  in  their  attacks  on  the  declining  power, 
and  in  997  Berniudo  II.,  king  of  Galicia,  won  back  the 
first  portion  of  modern  Portugal  from  the  Mohammedans 
by  seizing  Oporto  and  occupying  the  province  now  known 
as  Entre  Minho  e  Douro.  In  the  beginning  of  the  llth 
century  the  Omayj-ad  caliphate  finally  broke  up,  and  inde- 
pendent emirs  established  themselves  in  every  large  city, 
against  whom  the  Christian  princes  waged  incessant  and 
successful  war.  In  1055  Ferdinand  the  Great,  king  of 
Leon,  Castile,  and  Galicia,  invaded  Beira ;  in  1057  he  took 
Lamego  and  Viseu,  and  in  106-L  Coimbra ;  and  his  sop 
Garcia,  who  succeeded  him  as  king  of  Galicia  in  1005, 
maintained  Nuno  Mendes,  count  of  Oporto,  and  Sesnando, 
a  renegade  Arab  wazlr,  count  of  Coimbra,  as  feudal  vassala 
of  his  court.  In  1073  Alphonso  VI.,  thesecond  son  o. 
Ferdinand  the  Great,  united  once  more  his  father's  three 
kingdoms,  and  for  a  time  rivalled  his  father's  successe^ 
until  a  fresh  outburst  of  Mohammedan  fanaticism  ended 
in  the  rise  of  the  Almoravide  dynasty,  and  the  defeat  of 
the  Christian  king  at  Zalaca  in  1086  by  \u6uf  ibn  Tesh- 
uffn  To  resist  this  revival  of  the  Mohammedan  power, 
Alphonso  VI.  summoned  the  chivalry  of  Christendom  Uj 
his  aid,  and  among  tho  knights  who  came  to  his  assistance 
were  Counts  Raymond  and  Henry  of  Burgundy.  In  the 
days  of  his  success  AJiJionso  had  compelled  MotawakkJ 
of  Badajoz  to  cede  to  him  both  Lisbon  and  Santarem, 
but  tho  fortune  of  war  had  changed,  and  Sir,  tho  general 
of  tho  Almoravide  caliph  Yi^suf,  retook  both  cities.  _  Al- 
phonso felt  tho  need  of  a  valiant  warrior  on  his  Galician 
frontier,  and  in  1094  ho  combined  tho  fiefs  of  Coimbra 
and  Oporto  into  one  great  county  and  conferred  it  upon 
Henry  of  Burgundy  with  tho  hand  of  his  illegitimate 
daughter  Theresa,  while  to  Raymond  he  gave  Galicia  and 
his  legitimate  daughter  and  heiress  Urraca. 

Count  Henry  of  Burgundy,  the  first  count  of  Portugal. 


540 


PORTUGAL 


[history. 


was  the  second  son  cf  Henrj',  third  son  of  Robert,  first 
duke  of  Burgundy,  and  was  in  every  way  a  typical  knight 
of  his  century,  a  brave  restless  warrior,  and  a  crusader ;  but 
when  once  firmly  established  in  his  county  he  thought 
much  more  about  his  chances  of  succeeding  his  father-in- 
iaw  as  king  than  of  trying  to  carve  a  kingdom  for  him- 
self out  of  the  dominions  of  the  Mohammedan  caliphs. 
When,  therefore,  Alphonso  VI.  died  in  1109  and  left  his 
thrones  to  his  daughter  Urraca,  and  nothing  to  Henry, 
the  Burgundian  at  once  invaded  Leon.  For  five  years 
the  Christian  princes,  Henry  of  Burgundy,  Alphonso 
Kaimundes  (the  son  of  Count  Raymond),  Alphonso  of 
Aragon,  and  Queen  Urraca,  fought  together,  while  Sir 
(was  consolidating  the  AJmoravide  power,  until  Count 
Henry  died  suddenly  at  Astorga  in  1112,  leaving  his 
wife  Theresa  to  rule  the  county  of  Portugal  during  the 
minority  of  his  infant  son,  AJFonso  Henriques. 

Theresa,  who  ruled  at  Guimaraens  during  her  son's 
minority,  was  a  beautiful  and  accomplished  woman,  who 
devoted  all  her  energies  to  building  up  Afi"onso's  dominions 
into  an  independent  state,  and  under  her  rule,  while  the 
Christian  states  of  '  Spain  were  torn  by  civil  wars,  the 
Portuguese  nobles  were  prevented  from  interfering,  and 
began  to  recognize  Portugal  as  their  country,  and  to  cease 
from  calling  themselves  Galicians.  Her  regency  was  a 
stormy  one  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts  to  maintain  peace  :  in 
1116  she  was  persuaded  by  Gelmires,  bishop  of  Santiago,  to 
try  and  extend  her  frontier  towards  the  north,  and  seized 
Tuy  and  Orense  ;  in  1 1 17  she  was  besieged  by  the  Moham- 
•anedans  in  Coimbra ;  and  in  1121  her  sister  Urraca  took 
her  prisoner,  but,  through  the  interposition  of  Bishop 
Gelmires  and  Mauricio  Burdino,  archbishop  of  Braga, 
peace  was  quickly  made  between  them.  For  the  next  few 
years  a  curious  parallelism  appears  between  the  careers  of 
the  two  sisters  :  Urraca  showered  favours  on  her  lover, 
Pedro  de  Lara,  until  her  young  son  Alphonso  Raimundes, 
or  Alphonso  VII.  of  Leon  and  Castile,  with  the  help  of 
Bishop  Gelmires,  revolted  against  her ;  and  with  equal 
blindness  Theresa  favoured  her  lover,  Fernando  Peres  de 
Trava,  whom  she  made  governor  of  the  cities  of  Oporto 
and  Coimbra,  until  she  was  detested  by  the  boy  Affonso 
Henriques,  and  Paio,  archbishop  of  Braga.  They  did  not, 
however,  break  out  into  open  revolt  until  after  a  successful 
invasion  by  Alphonso  VII.  of  Leon  and  Castile,  who  forced 
There;?a  to  recognize  his  supremacy  in  1127.  Her  son 
refused  to  ratify  her  submission,  and  rose  in  rebellion  with 
Archb'shop  Paio,  Sueiro  Mendes,  Sancho  Nunes,  and  others; 
and  at  *-he  battle  of  San  JIamede  on  1-lth  June  1128  Theresa 
was  U  ken  prisoner,  and  then  wandered  about  in  Galicia 
with  her  lover  until  her  death  in  1130. 

Affcnso  Henriques,  who  at  the  age  of  seventeen  assumed 
the  government,  was  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  Middle  Ages  ; 
he  succeeded  to  the  rule  of  the  county  of  Portugal  when  it 
was  still  regarded  as  a  fief  of  Galicia,  and  after  nearly 
sixty  years'  incessant  fighting  he  bequeathed  to  his  son  a 
powerful  little  kingdom,  whose  independence  was  unques- 
'tioned,  and  whose  fame  was  spread  abroad  throughout 
Christendom  by  the  reports  of  the  victories  of  its  first  king 
over  the  Mohammedans.  The  four  wars  of  independence 
which  Affonso  Henriques  waged  against  Alphonso  VII. 
lasted  more  than  twelve  years,  and  were  fought  out  on  the 
Galician  frontier  with  varying  success,  until  the  question 
of  Portuguese  independence  was  peaceably  established  and 
confirmed  by  the  valour  of  the  Portuguese  knights,  who 
overcame  those  of  Castile  in  the  famous  tournament  of 
Valdevez,  and  Aftbnso  Henriques  assumed  the  title  of  the 
king  of  Portugal.  The  independence  of  Portugal  from 
Galicia  being  thus  finally  achieved,  Affonso  Henriques 
abandoned  the  idea  of  extending  his  dominions  towards 
the  north,  and  devoted  the  next  twenty-five  years  of  his 


life  to  one  long  crusade  against  the  Mohammedans,  and 
to  extending  his  frontier  towards  the  south.  The  state  of 
the  Mohammedan  power  in  Spain  was  particularly  favour- 
able to  his  enterprise.  The  wave  of  Moslem  fanaticism 
which  had  created  the  AJmoravide  dynasty  had  exhausted 
itself,  and  independent  chiefs  had  established  themselves 
again  in  the  different  provinces,  while  in  Africa  'Abd  al- 
Mumen,  the  successor  of  the  Almohade  mahdi,  was  de- 
stroying the  power  of  the  Almoravides  by  means  of  yet 
another  wave  of  fanaticism.  As  early  as  1135  Affonso, 
had  built  the  castle  of  Leiria  to  protect  his  capital,! 
Coimbra,  but  for  some  years  he  left  the  task  of  attacking) 
the  Mohammedans  to  the  Knights  Templars  and  Knightai 
Hospitallers,  who  made  incessant  incursions  from  theirl 
headquarters  at  Soure  and  Thomar.  But  the  castle  of 
Leiria  had  soon  fallen  ;  and  in  1139,  after  the  flower  of 
!Mohammedan  Spain  had  crossed  over  to  Africa  under 
Teshufin,  the  last  AJmoravide  caliph,  to 'fight  the  Almo- 
hades,  and  when  Alphonso  VII.  was  making  his  second 
incursion  into  the  heart  of  Andalusia,  Affonso  Henriques 
collected  his  whole  army  and  invaded  the  province  of  the 
Kasr  ibn  Abl  Ddnes.  Advancing  to  the  south  of  Beja, 
he  met  the  united  forces  of  all  the  neighbouring  cities 
under  a  will  named  Ismar,  and  completely  routed  him  at 
Orik  or  Ourique  on  25th  July.  This  battle  has  been  sur- 
rounded with  a  mass  of  legends  :  it  was  solemnly  asserted 
two  hundred  years  afterwards  that  five  kings  and  200,000 
Mohammedans  were  utterly  defeated,  and  that  after  the 
battle  Affonso  was  proclaimed  king  by  his  soldiers.  Such 
legends  hardly  need  contradiction  ;  the  victory  was  a  great 
one,  but  it  was  obtained  over  provincial  emirs ;  and  it 
was  not  by  victories  over  Mohammedans  but  by  struggles 
with  his  Christian  cousin  Alphonso  VII.  that  independ- 
ence was  to  be  won.  Of  still  later  invention  was  the 
fiction  of  the  cortes  of  Lamego,  and  the  passing  of  the 
fundamental  laws  of  the  monarchy,  on  which  Vertot  and 
other  WTiters  have  expended  so  much  eloquence.  Of  great 
significance  with  regard  to  the  legendary  splendour  of  the 
victory  is  the  fact  that  in  the  very  next  year  Ismar  or 
Omar,  the  emir  who  was  defeated  at  Ourique,  was  able  to 
take  the  field  again,  when  he  once  more  seized  the  castle 
of  Leiria,  and  destroyed  it.  In  1143  a  regular  peace  was 
concluded  between  Alphonso  VII.  and  Aftbnso  Henriques 
at  Zamora  through  the  mediation  of  the  cardinal  Guy  de 
Vico,  when  Affonso  Henriques  was  finally  recognized  as 
king,  and  promised  to  be  a  vassal  of  the  pope,  and  to  pay 
him  four  ounces  of  gold  annually.  For  many  subsequent 
years  the  history  of  Portugal  is  merely  a  narration  of  wars 
against  the  Mohammedans.  Abii  Zakaria,  wazir  of  San- 
tarem  and  Mohammedan  leader  in  the  Belatha  (a  district 
including  the  banks  of  the  Tagus  and  the  cities  of  Lisbon, 
Santarem,  and  Cintra),  defeated  the  Templars  at  Soure  in 
1144,  but  in  1147  Santarem  itself  was  surprised  and 
taken  on  15th  March.  Of  still  more  importance  was 
the  capture  of  Lisbon  in  the  same  year.  A  number  of 
German  crusaders  from  the  Rhine  and  Flanders  under 
Count  Arnold  of  Aerschot  and  Christian  Ghistell,  and  of 
English  crusaders  under  their  constables,  Hervey  Glanvill, 
Simon  of  Dover,  Andrew  of  London,  and  Saher  d'Arcellis, 
put  in  at  Oporto  on  their  way  to  Palestine,  and  were 
persuaded  by  the  bishop  to  commence  their  holy  work  by 
assisting  in  the  siege  of  Lisbon.  With  their  help  the  ancient 
city,  which  claimed  to  have  been  founded  by  Ulysses,  and 
which  had  three  times — in  792,  in  851,  and  in  1093 — been 
taken  by  the  Christians  and  held  for  a  short  time,  was 
finally  captured  on  24th  October  by  Affonso  Henriques, 
who  also  persuaded  many  of  the  crusaders  to  settle  and 
form  colonies  in  Portugal.  The  series  of  conquests  con- 
tinued :  Cintra,  Palmella,  and  Almada  quickly  surrendered, 
and  at  last,  after  a  failure  in  1152,  the  great  city  of  Alcicer 


BISTORY.J 


PORTUGAL 


541 


do  Sal  was  taken  in  1158.  In  1161  Affonso  Henriquea 
met  with  his  first  important  check.  .  The  Alinohade 
caliphs,  having  at  last  triumphed  in  Africa,  determined 
to  extend  their  power  to  Spain,  and  on  the  arrival  of 
their  troops  the  Portuguese  king  was  defeated.  Then  the 
character  of  the  war  changed.  A  disputed  succession 
weakened  the  Almohade  caliphate,  and  independent  bands 
of  "  salteadors,"  who  were  little  better  than  brigands  or 
free-lances,  began  to  establish  themselves  in  the  cities  of 
Alemtejo ;  such  was  Giraldo  Sempavor,  who  took  Evora 
in  1166. 

Aflbnso  Henriques  became  ambitious  to  win  the  great 
city  of  Badajoz,  although  by  a  treaty  signed  at  Cella  Nova 
with  Alphonso  VII.  he  had  undertaken  to  confine  his  con- 
quests to  the  right  bank  of  the  Guadiana.  No  doubt  it 
was  owing  to  the  death  of  his  cousin  and  the  separation 
of  the  kingdoms  of  Castile  and  Leon  that  he  believed  he 
could  eflTect  his  purpose.  But  his  son-in-law,  Ferdinand 
of  Leon,  would  not  allow  such  a  breach  of  treaty,  and 
determined  to  oppose  it ;  and  Afibnso  Henriques  made  the 
fatal  mistake  of  again  mixing  himself  up  in  Spanish  afiairs 
by  invading  Galicia  in  1167.  At  last,  in  1169,  he  formed 
the  siege  of  Badajoz ;  Ferdinand  at  once  invested  the 
besieger  in  his  camp,  and  the  Portuguese  hero  was  severely 
wounded  and  taken  prisoner.  To  gain  his  freedom  he 
was  compelled  to  surrender  his  conquests  in  Galicia,  and 
Ferdinand  nobly  inflicted  no  harsher  terms ;  nevertheless 
the  old  king  never  recovered  from  the  effect  of  his  wound, 
and  the  remaining  exploits  of  his  reign  were  the  work  of 
his  son  Dom  Sancho.  By  1169  the  internal  dissensions 
of  the  Mohammedans  were  over,  and  the  new  AJmohade 
caliph,  Yiisuf  Abu  Ya'kiib,  crossed  over  to  Spain  with  a 
large  army.  He  speedily  reconquered  all  the  Portuguese 
acquisitions  in  Alemtejo,  and  in  1171,  after  a  vain  attempt 
to  take  Santarem,  made  a  truce  for  seven  years  with  Affonso 
Henriques,  who  in  the  following  year  admitted  his  son 
Sancho  as  king  with  ^himself,  and  left  him  all  the  duties 
of  war.  Dom  Sancho  proved  himself  the  worthy  son  of 
his  father,  and  for  twelve  years  Alemtejo  was  one  great 
battle-ground.  The  greatest  struggle  was  in  1184,  when 
Yiisuf  brought  over  fresh  forces  from  Africa,  and  again 
besieged  Santarem  ;  but  pestilence  defended  the  city,  and 
on  4th  July  Sancho  utterly  defeated  the  fever- stricken 
army  of  the  besiegers,  Yusuf  himself  being  mortally 
wounded  in  the  battle.  This  triumph  worthily  closed  the 
reign  of  the  great  crusader  king,  Affonso  Henriques,  who 
died  on  6th  December  1185. 

The  fame  of  Dom  Sancho  I.,  "the  Povoador"  or  "City- 
builder,"  rests  more  on  his  internal  administration  than 
on  his  early  exploits  as  a  soldier.  But  before  ho  had  time 
to  obey  his  inclinations  he  had  to  continue  a  war  of  life 
and  death  with  the  Mohammedans.  In  1189  he  conquered 
Aigarves  and  took  Silves,  the  capital  of  the  province,  with 
the  help  of  some  English,  Dutch,  Danish,  and  Frisian 
crusaders;  but  the  conquest  was  hot  final,  for  in  1192 
Ytisuf  Abii  Ya'kub  reconquered  not  only  Aigarves  but  the 
whole  province  of  Alemtejo,  including  AlcAcer  do  Sal, 
failing  only  before  Santarem.  Finding  the  Mohammedans 
under  their  great  Almohade  caliph  too  dangerous  to  attack 
igain,  Dom  Sancho  made  peace  with  them,  and  for  some 
years,  until  1200,  concerned  himself  with  the  affairs  of 
Spain,  waging  continuous  war  against  Alphonso  IX.  of 
Leon  without  any  particular  result.  His  internal  adminis- 
tration was  far  more  important.  During  his  father's  reign 
there  had  been  nothing  but  fighting,  and,  except  in  Lisbon 
and  Oporto,  w.'iere  a  largo  trade  for  that  period  had  arisen, 
and  in  the  northern  provinces  of  Entre  Minho  o  Douro 
and  Tras-os-Montc.s,  where  agriculture  survived,  the  scanty 
population  lived  chiefly  on  the  spoils  taken  in  their  yearly 
incursions  on  the  Mohammedans.     Sancho  therefore  both 


encouraged  the  growth  of  towns  and  fostered  agriculture. 
The  Portuguese  towns  had  almost  without  exception  pre- 
served their  old  Koman  local  self-government,  which  had 
been  taken  advantage  of  by  the  Mohammedans ;  and 
Sancho  wisely  followed  their  example,  while  he  encouraged 
the  increase  of  population  by  wise  laws,  and  furthered 
immigration,  especially  from  the  crusaders  of  England, 
France,  and  the  north  of  Europe.  The  country  districts 
he  treated  on  a  different  principle.  He  granted  large 
tracts  of  land  to  noblemen  and  cities  and  the  military 
orders,  on  condition  that  they  should  be  cultivated  and 
occupied.  The  later  years  of  Sancho's  reign  were  filled 
with  disputes  with  Pope  Innocent  III.  This  struggle 
bears  a  curious  resemblance  to  the  quarrels  of  Henry  II. 
with  the  pope,  which  had  raged  a  few  years  earUer  in 
England.  Dom  Sancho  had  insisted  on  priests  accom- 
panying their  flocks  to  battle,  and  also  on  making  them 
amenable  to  the  secular  courts.  This  seemed  monstrous 
to  Innocent,  who  sent  legate  after  legate  to  demand 
Sancho's  submission  and  the  payment  of  the  tribute  to 
the  Holy  See.  But  the  king  had  in  his  chancellor  Juliao 
the  first  Portuguese  student  who  studied  the  revival  of 
Roman  law  at  Bologna,  and  who  had  imbibed  broad  views 
there  as  to  the  papal  power,  and  he  in  Sancho's  name 
asserted  the  king's  full  right  even  to  dispose  of  the  estates 
of  the  church  in  his  kingdom  if  he  liked.  This  general 
quarrel  was  complicated  by  the  behaviour  of  Martinho 
Rodrigues,  bishop  of  Oporto,  who  was  hated  alike  by  his 
chapter,  the  king,  and  the  people  of  his  city,  and  whcv 
after  being  besieged  in  his  palace  for  five  months,  escaped 
to  Rome,  and  claimed  the  pope's  protection  in  1209. 
Sancho  was  now  in  weak  health  and  in  no  mood'  to  con- 
tinue the  struggle,  so  in  1210  he  yielded  to  all  the  de- 
mands of  the  pope  and  the  bishops  ;  then,  after  giving 
large  estates  to  his  sons  and  daughters,  he  retired  to  the 
convent  of  Alcoba^a,  where  he  died  in  1211,  leaving  a 
reputation  as  a  warrjor  and  a  statesman  .only  second  to 
that  of  his  father. 

The  reign  of  Affonso  II.  "the  Fat"  is  chiefly  important  Affo» 
in  the  constitutional  history  of  Portugal,  and  for  one  ''• 
memorable  feat  of  arms,  the  recapture  of  Alcdcer  do  Sal. 
On  his  father's  death,  Affonso,  probably  by  the  advice  of 
the  chancellor  Juliao,  summoned  a  cortes  or  parliament, 
consisting  of  the  bishops,  "fidalgoes,"  and  "ricos  homens" 
of  the  realm,  which  is  the  first  on  record,  as  that  at  Laniogo 
in  1143  is  apocryphal.  The  king  assented  to  the  final 
compact  which  his  father  had  made  with  the  church,  and 
propounded  a  law  of  mortmain,  probably  drawn  u])  by 
Juliao,  by  which  the  church  could  receive  no  more  legacies 
of  land,  because  it  could  not  perform  military  service. 
Affonso  himself  proved  to  be  no  warrior,  but  he  was  very 
tenacious  of  the  wealth  and  power  of  the  crown,  and  refused 
to  hand  over  to  his  brothers  the  large  legacies  which  Dom 
Sancho  had  left  to  them  ;  and  it  was  not  until  after  a  long 
civil  war,  in  which  Alphonso  IX.  of  Leon  joined,  that  he 
gave  his  sisters  their  legacies,  at  the  same  time  taking 
care  that  they  all  became  nuns,  while  his  brothers  went 
into  exile,  and  nevet  obtained  their  lands  at  all.  Though 
Affonso  himself  was  no  soldier,  the  Portuguese  infantry 
showed  how  free  men  could  fight  at  the  battle  of  Navaa 
de  Tolosa  in  1212  ;  and  his  ministers,  bishops,  and  caj)tain8 
took  advantage  of  the  weakness  of  the  Aimohades  after 
this  great  defeaSto  reconquer  Alemtejo,  and  in  1217  they 
retook  rilciicer  do  Sal,  and  defeated  the  wAlis  of  Andalusia 
with  the  help  of  a  body  of  crusaders.  In  this  expedition 
the  king  took  no  part ;  ho  was  more  bent  upon  filling  his 
treasury,  which  soon  brought  him  again  into  <:onflict  with 
the  church.  His  chancellor,  Qoncalo  Mendes,  inherited 
the  policy  of  Juliao,  and  encouraged  him  to  lay  hands  on 
the  lands  of  the  archbishop  of  Braga,   Estevao  Scares, 


542 


POJEITUGAL 


[histoby. 


■whereupon  Pope  Honorius  III.  excommunicated  the  king 
and  laid  an  interdict  upon  the  kingdom  until  Affonso  should 
make  compensation  and  should  expel  his  chancellor  from 
court.  This  Affonso  refused  to  do,  and  he  was  still  under 
the  interdict  of  the  church  when  ho  died  in  1223. 

Sancho  II.  was  only  thirteen  when  he  succeeded  his 
father,  and,  as  might  have  been  expected  during  a  minority, 
tlie  turbulent  nobility  and  intriguing  bishops  tried  to  undo 
the  late  king's  labours  to  consolidate  the  royal  power.  The 
old  statesmen  of  Affonso  II. —  Gongalo  Mendes,  the  chan- 
cellor, Pedro  Annes,  the  "  mordomo  mor  "  or  lord  steward, 
and  Vicente,  dean  of  Lisbon — saw  that  it  was  necessary  to 
get  the  interdict  removed  if  there  was  to  be  peace  during 
the  king's  minority,  and  so  they  prudently  retired  into  the 
background.  Estevao  Scares,  the  archbishop  of  Braga, 
then  became  the  most  powerful  man  in  the  kingdom,  and, 
with  Abril  Peres,  the  new  mordomo  mor,  he  agreed  with 
Alphonso  IX.  of  Leon  that  the  Portuguese  should  attack 
Elvas  at  the  same  time  that  the  Spaniards  laid  siege  to 
Badajoz.  The  siege  of  Elvas  was  completely  successful ; 
the  young  king  greatly  distinguished  himself,  and  in  the 
following  year,  1227,  felt  strong  enough  to  reinstate  his 
father's  old  friends  in  office,  making  Vicente  chancellor, 
Pedro  Annes  once  more  mordomo  mor,  and  Martim  Annes 
"  alferes  mor  "  (standard-bearer).  This  change  of  power 
greatly  disconcerted  the  bishops  and  clergy,  who  began 
to  intrigue  for  the  overthrow  of  the  young  king,  but 
he  wisely  continued  to  occupy  himself  with  fighting  the 
Mohammedans,  knowing  well  that  the  pope  would  not 
dare  to  attack  a  crusading  monarch.  He  endeavoured  to 
imitate  closely  his  cousin  St  Louis  of  France,  and  his  wise 
policy  secured  him  the  protection  of  the  pope,  who  in  1228 
sent  John  of  Abbeville  as  legate,  with  full  powers  to  re- 
buke the  Portuguese  bishops.  The  legate  made  the  chan- 
cellor, Vicente,  bishop  of  Guarda,  and  highly  commended 
the  favour  shown  by  the  king  to  the  friars,  who  had  been 
introduced  into  Portugal  by  his  aunts,  and  to  the  military 
orders.  But  in  1237  Dom  Sancho  II.  had  another  serious 
quarrel  with  the  church,  and  an  interdict  was  laid  on  the 
/kingdom ;  but  prompt  submission  to  Pope  Gregory  IX. 
'secured  immediate  pardon.  Meantime  his  old  and  wise 
eouncillors  had  mostly  died,  and  his  court  was  thronged 
■with  gay  young  knights  and  troubadours.  He  again 
attacked  the  Mohammedans,  and  invaded  Algarves ;  and 
in  1239  he  took  Mertola  and  Ayamonte,  in  1240  Cacello, 
and  in  1244  Tavira.  Unfortunately  in  the  interval  between 
1240  and  1244  the  king  fell  in  love  with  a  Castilian  lady. 
Donna  Menoia  Lopes  de  Haro,  the  widow  of  Alvares  Peres 
de  Castro,  whom  he  probably  married.  This  union  was 
most  distasteful  to  the  Portuguese  people,  and  furnished 
the  bishops  with  a  pretext  for  forming  a  party  and  over- 
throwing him,  provided  they  could  find  a  leader  and  obtain 
the  assistance  of  the  pope.  In  1245  the  king's  brother, 
Affonso,  who  had  settled  at  the  court  of  his  aunt,  Blanche 
of  Castile,  queen-dowager  of  France  and  mother  of  Louis 
IX.,  and  who  had  there  married  the  heiress  of  Boulogne, 
offered  himself  as  a  leader  to  the  Portuguese  malcontents. 
The  pope  at  once  issued  a  bull,  deposing  Sancho,  and  Joiio 
Egas,  archbishop  of  Braga,  Tiburcio,  bishop  of  Coimbra, 
and  Pedro  Salvadores,  bishop  of  Oporto,  went  to  Paris  and 
offered  Affonso  of  Boulogne  the  crown  of  Portugal  on  cer- 
tain conditions,  which  he  accepted  and  swore  to  obey.  In 
1246  Affonso  arrived  at  Lisbon,  and  solemnly  declared  him- 
self the  defender  of  the  kingdom ;  and  for  two  years  a  civil 
war  raged,  which  ended  in  Dom  Sancho'a  retiring  to  Toledo, 
■where  he  died  on  8th  January  1248. 

With  such  a  commencement  it  might  have  been  expected 
that  the  reign  of  Affonso  III.  would  have  been  a  period  of 
civil  war  and  internal  dissension,  or  at  least  of  complete 
nibmission  to  the  church  and  the  feudal  nobility,  but,  on 


the  contrary,  it  was  from  a  constitutional  point  of  view 
the  most  important  of  all  the  early  reigns,  and  also  that 
in  which  Portugal  concluded  its  warfare  with  the  Moham- 
medans and  attained  to  its  European  limits.  In  short, 
Affonso  III.  was  essentially  a  politic  king,  if  not  a  high- 
principled  man.  On  his  brother's  death  he  exchanged  his 
title  of  "  visitador  "  or  "  curador  "  of  the  kingdom  for  that 
of  king,  and  at  once  prepared  to  complete  the  conquest  of 
Algarves.  Aided  by  his  uncle  Dom  Pedro  and  the  Knights 
Hospitallers  under  Gon^alo  Peres  Magro,  he  speedily  re- 
duced the  remainder  of  the  province.  This  rapid  extension 
of  the  Portuguese  territory  was  by  no  means  agreeable  to 
Alphonso  X  "the  Wise,"  king  of  Leon  and  Castile;  but, 
after  a  short  war,  Affonso  III.  consented  to  marry  Alphonso's 
illegitimate  daughter,  Donna  Beatrice  de  Gusman,  and  to 
hold  Algarves  in  usufruct  only.  He  then  turned  his  at- 
tention ,to  his  own  position  in  Portugal,  and  determined 
to  bridle  the  power  of  the  bishops,  in  spite  of  his  oath  at 
Paris.  Perceiving  that  this  could  only  be  done  with  the 
help  of  the  mass  of  the  people,  he  summoned  a  cortes 
at  Leiria  in  1254,  to  which  representatives  of  the  cities 
were  elected  and  sat  with  the  nobles  and  higher  clergy. 
With  the  help  of  Ihis  cortes — one  of  great  importance 
in  the  constitutional  history  of  Portugal — he  dared  the 
interdict  laid  upon  the  kingdom  for  having  married  again 
(the  daughter  of  Alphonso  the  Wise)  whilst  his  first  wife 
(Matilda,  countess  of  Boulogne)  was  alive. ''  Finally,  how- 
ever, on  the  petition  of  the  archbishops  and  bishops  of 
Portugal,  Pope  Urban  IV.  legalized  the  disputed  marriage 
in  1262  and  legitimated  his  elder  son,  Dom  Diniz,  while 
in  1263  Alphonso  X.  made  over  to  him  the  full  sovereignty 
of  Algarves.  On  the  other  hand,  the  people  made  use  of 
their  power,  and  in  a  full  cortes  at  Coimbra  in  1261  the 
representatives  of  the  cities  boldly  denounced  Affonso's 
tampering  with  the  coinage,  and  compelled  recognition  of 
the  fact  that  taxes  were  not  levied  by  the  inherent  right 
of  the  king  but  by  the  free  consent  of  the  people.  After  a 
prosperous  and  successful  reign  Nemesis  came  upon  Affonso 
in  the  rebeUion  of  his  eldest  son  Diniz  in  1277,  which  con- 
tinued until  1279,  in  which  year  the  king  died. 

The  period  of  war  and  of  territorial  extension  in  the 
Peninsula  was  now  over,  and  the  period  of  civilization  was 
to  dawn.  Territorially  and  constitutionally  Portugal  was 
now  an  established  kingdom  ;  it  remained  for  it  to  become 
civilized  and  thoroughly  homogeneous  before  the  great 
heroic  period  of  exploration  and  Asiatic  conquest  should 
begin.  No  better  man  for  such  work  than  the  new  king, 
Dom  Diniz,  could  have  been  found  :  he  was  himself  a  poet 
and  loved  letters  ;  he  was  a  great  administrator  and  loved 
justice ;  above  all  he  saw  the  need  of  agriculture  and  the 
arts  of  peace  to  take  the  place  of  incessant  wars,  and 
n-^bly  earned  the  title  of  the  "  B.6  Lavrador,"  or  "  Denis 
the  Labourer."  From  all  these  points  of  view  his  reign 
is  of  vast  importance  in  the  history  of  Portugal,  though, 
like  all  reigns  of  peaceful  progress,  it  is  not  signalized 
by  many  striking  events.  It  began  with  a  civil  war 
between  Diniz  and  his  brother  Affonso,  who  disputed  his 
legitimacy,  which  ended  in  a  compromise;  and  in  1281 
Diniz  married  Isabel,  daughter  of  Pedro  III.  of  Aragon, 
who  for  her  pure  and  unselfish  life  was  canonized  in  the 
16th  century.  His  reign  is  only  marked  by  one  war  with 
Sancho  IV.  and  his  successor,  Ferdinand  IV.,  of  Castile 
and  Leon,  -which  was  terminated  in  1297  by  a  treaty  of 
alliance,  according  to  the  terms  of  which  Ferdinand  TV. 
married  Constance,  daughter  of  Diniz,  while  Affonso,  the 
heir  to  the  throne  of  Portugal,  married  Beatrice  of  Castile, 
sister  of  Ferdinand.  Still  more  interesting  are  the  king's 
relations  with  Edward' I.  of  England,  with  whom  he  ex- 
changed many  letters,  and  with  whom  he  made  a  com- 
mercial treaty  in  1294.     He  corresponded  also  often  with 


HISTORY.] 


PORTUGAL 


543 


Edward  II.  of  England,  and  agreed  witli  him  in  1311  that 
the  Knights  Templars  had  been  greatly  maligned ;  and  on 
their  suppression  by  Clement  V.,  recollecting  the  great 
services  which  the  military  orders  had  rendered  to  Portugal 
and  their  great  power,  Dom  Diniz  founded  the  Order  of 
Christ,  and  invested  it  with  the  lan^s  of  the  Templars, 
thus  at  once  obeying  the  pope  and  avoiding  a  serious  dis- 
turbance at  home.  The  king  showed  his  love  of  agricul- 
ture by  the  foundation  of  agricultural  schools  and  homes 
for  farmers'  orphans,  as  well  as  by  encouraging  improved 
farming,  and  by  establishing  the  pine  forest  of  Leiria,  his 
love  of  justice  by  wise  laws,  checking,  though  not  abolish- 
ing, the  feudal  courts,  and  by  the  appointment  of  royal 
corregidors  in  every  town  of  which  the  crown  possessed 
the  franchise,  and  his  love  for  commerce  by  his  commercial 
treaty  with  England,  and  by  the  foundation  of  a  royal 
navy,  of  which  a  Genoese,  named  Emmanuel  Pessanha, 
was  the  first  admiral.  But  his  real  affection  was  for  litera- 
ture :  he  encouraged  a  school  of  Portuguese  poets  at.  his 
court,  and  established  a  uni\'ersity  at  Lisbon,  which,  after 
many  changes,  found  a  permanent  home  at  Coimbra.  At 
the  end  of  this  reign  war  broke  out  between  the  king  and 
the  heir-apparent,  and  a  pitched  battle  was  only  prevented 
in  1323  by  St  Isabel  riding  between  the  armies  and  making 
a  peace  between  her  husband  and  her  son,  which  lasted 
until  the  death  of  the  great  peace-monarch,  the  R6  Lavrador, 
in  1325. 

Affonso  IV.  pursued  his  father's  policy  of  making  family 
alliances  with  the  kings  of  Aragon  and  Castile,  and  in 
1328  married  his  daughter.  Donna  Maria,  to  Alphonso  XI. 
of  Castile,  who  neglected  her,  and  for  her  sake  Affonso  IV. 
declared  war  against  Castile.  Peace  was  made  through 
the  intervention  of  St  Isabel  in  1340,  when  Dom  Pedro, 
son  of  Affonso,  married  Constance  Manuel,  daughter  of  the 
duke  of  Penafiel,  and  Affonso  IV.  himself  promised  to  bring 
a  strong  Portuguese  army  to  the  help  of  Alphonso  XL 
against  the  emir  of  Morocco,  Abu  Hamem,  who  had  crossed 
the  straits  to  assist  the  sultan  of  Granada.  The  united 
Christian  armies  won  a  decisive  victory  at  the  river  Salado, 
in  which  Affonso  especially  distinguished  himself,  and 
earned  the  title  of  "the  Brave";  from  that  time  ho  re- 
mained at  peace  with  Castile,  and  further  strengthened 
his  position  in  Spain  in  1317  by  marrying  his  daughter. 
Donna  Leonora,  to  Pedro  IV.  of  Aragon.  The  later  years 
of  the  reign  of  Affonso  IV.  were  stained  by  the  tragedy  of 
Donna  Ines  de  Castro.     (See  vol.  v.  p.  202.) 

The  first  act  of  Dom  Pedro  on  ascending  the  throne  in 
1357  was  to  punish  the  murderers  of  Ines;  and  further, 
to  show  his  love  for  her,  ho  had  her  dead  body  disinteired 
and  crowned,  and  afterwards  solemnly  buried  with  the 
kings  and  queens  of  Portugal  in  the  convent  of  Alcotba^a. 
The  spirit  of  stern,  revengeful  justice  which  had  marked 
the  commencement  of  his  reign  continued  to  show  itself 
in  all  matters  of  administration  ;  ho  punished  priest  and 
noble  with  equal  severity,  and  the  people  gave  him  the 
title  of  "Pedro  the  Severe."  Like  his  grandfather,  ho 
greatly  valued  the  friendship  of  England,  and  was  on 
intimate  terms  with  Edward  III.,  who  in  1352  had  ordered 
his  subjects  by  proclamation  never  to  do  any  harm  to  tho 
Portuguese.  A  curious  sequol  to  tho  commercial  treaty 
of  1294  was  executed  in  1353,  wnen  Affon.so  Martins  Alho, 
on  behalf  of  the  maritime  cities  of  Portugal,  signed  a  treaty 
with  tho  merchants  of  London  guaranteeing  mutual  good 
faith  in  all  matters  of  trade  and  commerce.  This  is  the 
most  interesting  feature  of  Dom  Pedro's  short  reign. 

"'he  accession  in  1 367  of  Ferdinand,  tho  only  son  of  Pedro 
by  Constance,  marks  a  crisis  in  tho  history  of  the  Portu- 
guese monarchy.  As  a  natural  result  of  tho  long  peace 
which  had  succeeded  the  final  conquest  of  Algarves,  the 
I>eople  of  Portugal  had  grown  richer,  more  cultivated,  and 


more  conscious  of  their  nationality,  while  the  court  had 
grown  more  and  more  dissolute  and  more  out  of  conson- 
ance with  the  feelings  of  the  people.  If  the  Portuguese 
moncrchy  was  to  continue  to  exist,  it  was  obvious  that 
it  must  become  again  a  truly  national  monarchy,  as  it  had 
been  in  the  days  of  Affonso  Henriques,  and  that  the  kings 
must  remember  their  duties  and  not  think  only  of  their 
pleasures.  The  life  and  reign  of  Dom  Ferdinand  are 
marked,  like  those  of  his  father,  by  a  romantic  amour, 
which,  if  not  so  tragic  as  the  story  of  Ines  de  Castro,  had 
far  greater  political  importance.  Ferdinand  was  a  weak 
and  frivolous  but  ambitious  king,  who,  after  binding  him-< 
self  to  marry  Leonora,  daughter  of  the  king  of  Aragon, 
suddenly  claimed  the  thrones  of  Castile  and  Leon  in  1369 
on  the  death  of  Pedro  the  Cruel,  through  his  grandmother, 
Beatrice  of  Castile,  and  was  favourably  received  at  Ciudad 
Rodrigo  and  Zamora.  But  the  majority  of  the  Castilian 
nobles  did  not  wish  to  see  a  Portuguese  monarch  on  their 
throne,  and  welcomed  the  illegitimate  Jlenry  of  Trastamara 
as  Henry  II.  of  Castile.  The  contest  ended  in  1371  through 
the  intervention  of  Pope  Gregory  XL,  Ferdinand  agreeing 
to  surrender  his  claims  on  Castile  and  to  marry  Leonora, 
daughter  of  Henry  II.  However,  in  spite  of  the  pope, 
this  treaty  was  never  carried  out ;  Ferdinand  had  seen 
and  fallen  passionately  in  love  with  Donna  Leonora  Tellea 
de  Menezes,  daughter  of  a  nobleman  in  Tras-os-Montes  and 
wife  of  Joao  Lourengo  da  Cunha,  lord  of  Pombeiro.  For 
love  of  this  lady,  whom  he  eventually  married,  he  refused 
to  fulfil  his  treaty  with  Castile ;  but  Henry  II.  strongly 
resented  this  insult,  and  taking  up  arms  invaded  Port- 
ugal and  laid  siege  to  Lisbon.  Ferdinand  entered  into 
negotiations  with  John  of  Gaunt,  who  also  claimed  Castile 
through  his  wife  Constance  (daughter  of  Pedro  the  Cruel), 
and  he  signed  a  treaty  of  alliance  through  his  ambassador, 
Joao  Fernandes  Andeiro,  with  Edward  III.  of  England. 
Donna  Leonora,  however,  did  not  approve,  of  tho  English 
alliance,  and  in  1374  Ferdinand  made  peace  with  Castile 
through  the  mediation  of  Cardinal  Guy  of  Boulogne.  The 
queen  was  now  supreme,  and  terrible  in  her  tyranny.  She 
had  not  even  the  merit  of  constancy,  for  she  fell  in  love 
with  Andeiro,  the  late  ambassador  to  England,  and  in- 
duced the  king  to  make  him  count  of  Ourem.  Ferdinand 
himself  continued  to  aspire  to  the  throne  of  Castile ;  and 
in  1380,  after  the  death  of  Henry  II.,  ho  again  sent 
Andeiro  to  England  to  procure  assistance  for  a  new  war 
against  Henry's  successor,  John  I.  Richard  II.  of  England 
received  the  ambassador  graciously,  and  in  1381  tho  earl 
of  Cambridge,  brother  of  John  of  Gaunt,  arrived  with  a 
powerful  force,  and  his  son  Edward  was  betrothed  to  Donna 
Beatrice,  Ferdinand's  only  child,  who  had  been  recognized 
as  heiress  to  the  throne  by  a  cortes  at  Leiria  in  1376.  But 
tho  Portuguese  king,  as  usual,  failed  to  keep  faith,  and  in 
1383,  under  the  influence  of  the  queen,  he  deserted  tho 
English,  who  then  ravaged  Portugal  and  made  peace  with 
John  I.  of  Castile  at  Salvaterra.  By  this  treaty  John  L 
engaged  to  marry  Donna  Beatrice,  and  it  was  arranged 
that  Queen  Leonora  should  be  regent  of  Portugal  until 
Beatrice's  eldest  son  came  of  age.  Six  months  after- 
wards, on  22d  October,  King  Ferdinand  died,  and  Donna 
Leonora  assumed  the  regency. 

But  she  did  not  hold  it  long.  The  whole  Portuguese 
people  detested  her,  and  their  feeling  of  nationality  was 
outraged  by  the  contemplated  union  of  their  crown  with 
that  of  Castile.  Dom  John,  grandmaster  of  tho  Knights  of 
St  Bennett  of  Aviz,  and  an  illogitimato  son  of  Pedro  tho 
Severe,  shared  both  tho  personal  hatred  for  the  queen  and 
the  political  desire  for  independence,  and  on  6th  December 
he  headed  an  insurrection  at  Lisbon  and  slew  tho  queen's 
lover,  Andeiro,  in  tho  precincts  of  the  palace.  Leonora 
fied  to  Santarem  and  sunimonod  John  L  o£  Castile  to  hce 


544 


PORTUGAL 


[history; 


help,  while  Dom  Jokn  was  proclaimed  defender  of  Portugal, 
Joao  das  Regras  being  appointed  chancellor  and  Nuno 
Alvares  Pereira  constable.     Dom  John  sent  to  England 
ifor  assistance,  which  was  promised  him,  and  put  the  capital 
in  a  state  of  defence.     In  1384  John  of  Castile  entered 
Portugal  and  formed  the  siege  of  Lisbon.     The  resistance 
was  worthy  of  the  cause ;  the  archbishop  of  Braga  fought 
like  a  knight ;  but  a  pestilence  in  the  besiegers'  camp  did 
thetn  more  mischief  than  even  the  bravery  of  the  besieged, 
and  John  I.  had  to  retire  defeated.     Before  doing  so  he 
discovered  that  Donna  Leonora  had  plotted  to  poison  him, 
so  he  seized  her  and  imprisoned  her  in  the  convent  of 
Tordesillas,  where  she  died  in  1386.     But  it  availed  little 
to  have  repulsed  one  Castihan  army ;  the  relative  sizes  of 
Portugal  and  Castile  made  it  obvious  that  the  struggle 
'would  be  a  severe  one  ;  the  independence  of  Portugal  was 
at  stake,  and  the  Portuguese  fought  as  men  fight  for  their 
existence  as  a  nation.     The  heroic  constable,  who  won  the 
surname  of  the  "Holy  Constable,"  defeated  the  Castihans 
at  Atoleiro  and  Trancoso.     On  6th  April  1385  a  cortes 
assembled  at  Coimbra,  and  declared  the  crown  of  Portugal 
to  be  elective,  choosing,  at  the  instance  of  the  chancellor, 
pom  John  to  be  king  of  Portugal.     King  John  then  called 
all  his  chivalry  together,  with  the  freemen  of  his  cities, 
and,  with  the  help  of  500  English  archers,  utterly  defeated 
a  superior  Castilian  army  at  Aljubarrota  on  14th  August, 
and  in  the  following  October  the  Holy  Constable  destroyed 
another  army  at  Valverde.     These  blows  greatly  weakened 
the  prestige  of    Castile  and  increased  that  of  Portugal, 
and  when  John  of  Gaunt  arrived  the  following  year  with 
2000  lances  and  3000  archers  the  king  of  Castile  sued  for 
peace.     King  John  of  Portugal  perceived  the  advantage 
of  the  friendship  and  alliance  of  England,  and  on  9  th  May 
1386  was  signed  the  treaty  of  Windsor,  by  which  the  two 
countries  were  to  be  allies  for  ever  in  every  transaction. 
He  drew  the  alliance  still  closer  in   1387  by  marrying 
Philippa  of  Lancaster,  a  daughter  of  John  of  Gaunt  by  his 
second  marriage ;  and  a  truce  was  made  between  Portugal 
and  Castile,  and  renewed  at  intervals  until  a  final  peace 
Was  signed  in  1411.     The  only  attempt  made  to  disturb 
King  John  1.  was  an  incursion  by  the  eldest  son  of  Ines 
de  Castro,  Dom  Diniz,  in  1398,  assisted  by  Henry  III.  of 
Castile,  but  the  legitimate  claims  of  the  prince  carried  no 
Weight  against  the  conqueror  of  Aljubarrota,  and  he  retired 
discomfited.     The  long  reign  of  John  I.  was,  like  that  of 
King  Diniz,  a  reign  of  peaceful  development :  Diniz  had 
settled  and  united  the  country  after  the  Moorish  wars ; 
John  did  the  same  after  the  obstinate  war  with  Castile, 
and  at  the  end  of  his  reign  saw  Portugal  beginning  to  ex- 
pand beyond  the  sea.     The  keynotes  of  his  foreign  policy 
Were  friendship  with  England  and  peace  with  Castile. 
Henry  IV.,  Henry  V.,  and  Henry  VI.  of  England  all  suc- 
cessively ratified  the  treaty  of  Windsor ;  Richard  11.  sent 
troops  to  help  King  John  against  Dom  Diniz  in  1398; 
Henry  TV.  made  him  a  knight  of  the  Garter  in  1400 ;  and 
Henry  V.  sent  him  help  in  the  expedition  to  Ceuta  in  1415. 
John's  internal  government  vias  not  so  happy,  for,  though 
personally  a  clever  administratoi,  he  had  had,  in  order  to 
maintain  himself  when  he  claimed  the  crown,  to  grant  vast 
pri\'ileges  and  estates  to  the  nobles,  who  became  more  and 
more  powerful,  and,  by  their  exercise  of  full  feudal  rights, 
almost  independent.     It  was  at  the  earnest  request  of  his 
three  elder  sons,  Dom  Duarte  or  Edward,  Dom  Pedro,  and 
Dom  Henry,  that  he  consented  to  invade  Africa  in  1415. 
The  young  princes  desired  to  win  their  knightly  spurs ; 
there  were  no  enemies  at  home ;  and  what  could  be  more 
proper  than  to  attack  the  old  hereditary  foes  of  Portugal, 
the  Moors,  in  Morocco  itself  t     The  queen  from  her  death- 
bed sent  her  blessing ;  the  princes  proved  themselves  worthy 
sons  of  their  father ;  and  by  the  occupation  of  Ceuta  the 


Portuguese  made  their  first  conquest  beyond  the  limits  of 
their  country.  The  expedition  over,  the  elder  princes  each 
followed  his  own  bent :  Dom  Edward  assisted  his  father 
in  the  labours  of  government ;  Dom  Pedro,  who  was  made 
duke  of  Coimbra,  travelled  throughout  Europe,  and  showed 
himself  everywhere  a  learned  and  accomplished  as  weU  as 
brave  knight ;  and  Dom  Henry,  who  was  master  of  the 
Order  of  Christ,  governor  of  Algarves,  and  duke  of  Viseu, 
established  himself  at  Sagres,  and  devoted  his  life  to  the 
encouragement  of  maritime  exploration,  for  an  account  of 
which  see  vol.  x.  pp.  179,  180.  Portuguese  discoveries 
thus  made  illustrious  the  closing  years  of  the  reign  of  King 
John,  who  died  in  1433. 

Contrary  to  expectation,  the  reign  of  King  Edward  (so 
called  after  Edward  UI.  of  England)  proved,  in  spite  of 
his  own  great  qualities,  but  short,  and  was  marked  by  one 
signal  disaster.     On  ascending  the  throne  he  summoned 
a  full  cortes  at  Evora  and  secured  the  passing  of  the  Lei 
Mental,  or  the  provision  which  was  supposed  to  ue  in  the 
mind  of  Ejng  John  when  he  gave  his  extensive  grants  to 
the  nobility,  namely,  that  they  could  only  descend  in  the 
direct  male  line  and  on  failure  should  revert  to  the  crown. 
By  this  means  Edward  hoped  to  check  the  excessive  power 
of  the  nobles,  many  of  whom  fled  to  Castile.    He  supported 
his  father's  policy,  married  a  princess  of  Aragon,  and,  after 
confirming  the  treaty  of  Windsor,  was  made  a  knight  of 
the  Garter  in  bis  father's  room.     He  also  encouraged  the 
explorations   of   Dom    Henry;   but    the    king's    life   was 
shortened  and  Dom  Henry's  explorations  were  checked  for 
a  time  by  the  fatal  expedition  to  Tangiers  in  1436.    At  the 
earnest  request  of  his  youngest  brother  Dom  Ferdinand 
and  of  Dom  Henry  himself,  and  in  spite  of  the  remon- 
strances of  the  pope  and  Dom  Pedro,  the  king  sent  a  fleet 
to  attack  Tangiers ;  the  army  was  cut  off,  and  it  was  only 
by  sacrificing  Dom  Ferdinand  as  a  hostage  that  the  troops 
were  allowed  to  retire  to  their  ships.     The  imprisonment 
of  his  brother  preyed  on  King  Edward's  mind,  and  he  died 
in  1438,  while   Dom  Ferdinand,  after  a  long  and  cruel 
oaptivity  at  Fez,  borne  with  such  exemplary  piety  as  to 
win  him  the  title  of  "  the  Constant  Prince,"  died  from  ill- 
treatment  in  1443.  ■• 
The  new  king,  Afibnso  V.,  was  a  minor,  and  his  reign 
began  with  a  struggle  for  the  regency  between  his  mother. 
Donna  Leonora,  and  his  uncle,  Dom  Pedro,  duke  of  Coimbra. 
The  people  of  Lisbon  supported  the  latter,  who  was  re' 
cognized  as  regent ;  and  his  conduct  justified  the  choice. 
He  pursued  his  brother's  policy  of  curbing  the  pretensions 
of  the  nobles,  and  encouraged  Dom  Henry's  work  of  dis- 
covery, which  advanced  every  year.     Dom  Pedro's  power 
was  seemingly  at  its  height  in  1447  when  Afibnso  V.  was 
declared  of  age  and  at  the  same  time  married  his  cousin 
Leonora,  daughter  of  Dom  Pedro ;  but  the  duke  of  Bra- 
ganza  poisoned  the  king's  mind   against  his  uncle,  and 
schemed  his  dismissal  from  court.     Then,   not  satisfied 
with  this,  he  marched  against  him  with  a  royal  army, 
largely  recruited  by  the  nobility,  who  hated  the  duke  of 
Coimbra.     The  two  forces  met  at  Alfarrobeira  on  20th 
May  1449,  when  the  regent  was  slain,  to  the  great  regret 
of   the  Portuguese  people.      The   young  king  fell  more 
and  more  under  the  influence  of  the  duke  of  Braganza 
and  his  sons,  who  humoured  his  desire  for  knightly  fame 
and  his  dream  of  sitting  on  the  throne  of  Castile,  and 
who  secured  to  themselves  vast  grants  of  royal  property. 
This  knightly  idea  appears  in  Alfonso's  three  expeditions 
to  Africa,  which  won  him  the  surname  of  "the  African": 
in    1458   he  took  AlcAcer  Seguier;    in   1461   he  failed; 
and  in  1471  he  took  Arzilla  and  Tangiers.     Meanwhile 
maritime  exploration  went  on  apace;  but  in  1460  Dom 
Henry  the  Navigator,  the  heart  and  soul  of  these  mari- 
time enterprises,  died.     The  "  Re  Cavalltiro  "  or  knightly 


HISTORY.] 


PORTUGAL 


545 


king  was  now  bent  on  the  ola  chimerical  schcinc  of  win- 
ning Castile  ;  for  that  purpose  he  married  in  1475  his  own 
niece,  the  infanta  Joanna,  only  daughter  of  Henry  IV.  of 
Castile,  and  claimed  the  kingdom  ;  but  the  Castilians  pre- 
ferred the  infanta  Isabella,  who  had  married  Ferdinand, 
king  of  Aragon.  The  rival  parties  took  up  arms  ;  and  the 
king  of  Portugal  was  utferlj-  defeated  at  Toro  in  1476, 
which  sent  him  hurriedly  to  France  to  beg  help  from  Louis 
XI. ;  but  his  mission  was  in  vain,  and  he  saw  no  alterna- 
tive save  signing  the  treaty  of  Alcantara  (1478),  by  which 
bis  newly-won  wife  was  sent  to  a  convent.  He  remained 
inconsolable  at  his  loss,  a,nd  alternately  abdicated  and 
returned  until  his  death  in  1481.' 

His  successor,  John  II.,  was  a  monarch  of  a  very  different 
type  :  though  he  had  proved  himself  a  brave  and  valiant 
Boldier  at  the  battle  of  Toro,  he  pursued  the  old  policy  of 
the  house  of  Aviz,  that  of  peace  and  family  alliances  with 
Castile  and  of  commercial  intimacy  with  England.  But 
he  was  also  a  typical  king  of  this  period,  and  followed 
the  example  of  Louis  XL  in  France  and  Henry  VII.  in 
England  in  breaking  the  power  of  the  nobles,  with  the 
hearty  acquiescence  of  the  people.  Besides  political  reasons 
for  this  policy,  he  remembered  that  he  was  the  grandson 
of  the  great  duke  of  Coimbra,  and  bound  to  revenge  his 
murder  at  Alfarrobeira.  The  first  act  of  his  reign  was  to 
summon  a  full  cortes  at  Evora,  at  which  it  was  decreed 
that  the  royal  corregidors  should  have  full  right  to  admin- 
ister justice  in  all  the  feudal  dominions  of  the  nobility. 
This  act  brought  him  of  course  into  direct  conflict  with 
the  nobility,  who  were  headed  by  Ferdinand,  duke  of 
Braganza,  to  the  king's  great  delight,  for,  as  he  said,  the 
wanton  liberality  of  his  father  had  left  him  only  the  high 
roads  of  Portugal  for  his  inheritance.  Hence  the  duke 
of  Braganza  was  naturally  the  first  object  of  the  king's 
attack.  He  was  the  wealthiest  nobleman  not  only  in  Por- 
tugal but  in  the  whole  Peninsula ;  his  brothers  held  the 
high  offices  of  constable  and  chancellor  of  the  kingdom, 
and  they  too  had  all  assisted  in  the  overthrow  of  the  duke 
of  Coimbra.  He  believed  himself  to  be  safe  because  he 
and  the  king  had  married  sisters,  but  he  was  promptly 
arrested  for  high  treason,  and  after  a  very  short  trial  exe- 
cuted at  Evora  on  22d  June  1483.  His  own  and  the 
king's  brother-in-law,  Ferdinand,  duke  of  Viseu,  a  grand- 
son of  King  Edward,  succeeded  to  the  leadership  of  the 
nobles ;  but  John  IL,  imitating  Louis  XL's  policy  of  not 
sparing  his  own  family,  stabbed  him  with  his  own  hand 
at  Setubal  on  23d  August  1484,  and  afterwards  executed 
Bome  eighty  of  the  leading  nobles,  breaking  the  feudal 
power  of  the  class  for  ever.'  This  terrible  struggle  over, 
he  occupied  himself  with  such  success  in  administration 
that  ho  won  the  surname  of  "the  Perfect  King."  But 
ho  did  not  intend  to  keep  the  Portuguese  in  idleness. 
He  was  surrounded  by  the  gallant  knights  who  had  been 
trained  by  his  father,  and  who,  though  now  frightened 
out  of  treason,  yet  needed  some  occupation,  and  at  his 
court  were  the  famous  navigators  trained  by  Dom  Henry. 
fn  1484  he  built  a  fort  at  La  Mina  or  Elmina  to  cover 
the  increasing  trade  with  the  Gold  Coast,  and  in  148G 
Bartholomeu  Dias  rounded  the  Cape  of  Good  Ilojie  and 
reached  Al:;oa  Bay.  The  king  was  full  of  plans  for  reach- 
ing India  and  discovering  Prcstcr  John  ;  besides  despatch- 
ing a  special  expedition  for  this  purpose  in  14K7,  he  sent 
Pedro  do-  Evora  and  Gongalo  Annes  to  Timbuctoo,  and 
Martini  Lopos  to  Nova  Zcmbla  to  find  a  north-cast  road 
to  Cathay.  With  all  liis  perspicacity,  ho  made  the  great 
mistake  of  dismissing  Columbus  in  1493  as  a  visionary ; 
but  ho  was  occupied  to  the  very  last  day  of  his  life  in 
getting  ready  the  fleet  with  which  Vasco  do  Goma  was  to 
find  out  the  pas.*agc  to  India  by  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope 
(aee  vol  »^  y.  161  sq.).     It  was  in  his  reign,  in  1494.  that 


the  pope  issued  his  famous  bull  dividing  the  undiscovered 
parts  of  the  world  between  Spaniards  and  Portuguese. 
A  great  sorrow  darkened  the  later  years  of  John  II.  in  the 
death  of  his  only  son  Affonso,  who  in  1490  had  married 
Isabella,  eldest  daughter  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  of 
Spain  ;  and  he  himself  died  in  the  flower  of  his  age  in  1495. 

The  reign  of  Emmanuel  "the  Fortunate,"  brother  of 
the  murdered  duke  of  Viseu,  is  the  heroic  period  of 
Portuguese  history.  The  great  men  and  brave  knights 
of  the  reigns  of  Aifonso  V.  and  John  II.  were  still  living, 
and  Vasco  de  Gama,  Francisco  de  Almeida,  and  Affonso 
de  Albuquerque  were  to  make  their  king's  reign  for  ever 
glorious.  Yet  Emmanuel  personally  contributed  but  little 
to  this  glory ;  his  one  idea  was  to  sit  on  the  throne  o^ 
Castile.  To  gain  this  end  he  proposed  to  marry  Isabella, 
eldest  daughter  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  and  widow  of 
Dom  Affonso,  and  to-  win  her  hand  he  consented  to  expel 
the  Jews  from  Portugal,  although  they  were  the  richest 
and  most  useful  class  of  people  in  the  kingdom,  and  had 
been  faithfully  protected  ever  since  the  days  of  Affonso 
Henriques.  He  married  Isabella  in  1497,  and  was  on  a 
progress  through  Spain  in  the  following  year  for  the  pur- 
pose of  being  recognized  as  heir  to  the  throne,  when  she 
died  suddenly  at  Toledo,  and  with  her  disappeared  his 
great  hopes.  Even  then  he  did  not  despair,  but  in  1500 
married  his  deceased  wife's  sister,  Maria,  though  her  elder 
sister  Joanna  was  also  married,  and  had  a  son,  who  was 
afterwards  the  emperor  Charles  V.  While  the  king  was 
thus  occupied  great  things  were  being  done  in  Asia  by  his 
subjects.  In  1497  Vasco  de  Gama  had  crossed  the  Indian 
Ocean  and  reached  Calicut ;  in  1500  Pedro  Alvares  Cabral 
discovered  Brazil  on  his  way  to  India;  in  1502  Vasco  de 
Gama  paid  his  second  visit  to  the  Malabar  coast ;  in  1503 
Duarte  Pacheco  defended  Cochin  and  with  900  Portuguese 
defeated  an  army  of  50,000  natives;  and  in  1505  Francisco 
de  Almeida  was  p,ppointed  first  viceroy  of  India.  This  is 
not  the  place  to  dilate  on  the  great  deeds  of  Albuquerquk 
(q.v.)  and  of  the  Portuguese  in  India ;  it  is  enough  here 
to  mark  the  dates  of  a  few  of  the  most  important  dis- 
coveries and  feats  of  arms  which  illustrate  the  reign  of 
Emmanuel.  In  1501  Joao  da  Nova  discovered  the  i.=land 
of  Ascension,  and  Amerigo  Vespucci  the  Hio  Plata  and 
Paraguay;  in  1509  Diogo  Lopes  de  Sequieira  occupied 
Malacca;  in  1510  Affonso  de  Albuquerque  occupied  Goa; 
in  1512  Francisco  Senao  discovered  the  Moluccas;  in  1515 
Lopes  Soares  built  a  fort  at  Colombo  in  the  island  of 
Ceylon;  in  1517  Fernando  Peres  Andrada  established 
himself  at  Canton,  and  made  his  way  to  Peking  in  1521 ; 
and  in  1520  Magalhaes  (Magellan),  a  Portuguese  saUor, 
though  in  the  Spanish  service,  passed  through  the  straits 
which  bear  his  name. 

Tlio  reign  of  John  III.,  who  succeeded  Emmanuel  in 
1521,  is  one  of  rapid  decline.  The  destruction  of  the 
feudal  power  of  the  nobility  by  John  II.  had  not  been  an 
unmixed  good":  it  had  fatally  weakened  the  cla.ss  of  leader? 
of  the  people ;  the  nobility  lost  all  sense  of  patriotism  and 
intrigued  for  "moradias,"  or  court  posts;  and,  in  short, 
their  position  was  much  the  same  as  that  of  the  French 
nobility  before  the  Revolution  of  1789.  The  overthrow 
of  their  power  had  also  made  tho  king  absolute ;  having 
now  no  feudal  nobility  to  combat,  ho  had  no  need  of  tho 
support  of  tho  people,  and  tho  newly-created  Indian  trade 
brought  him  an  income  greater  than  that  of  an)'  prince  in 
Europe,  so  that  ho  had  no  need  of  taxes.  There  wns, 
however,  a  more  serious  cause  of  the  declining  power  of 
Portugal  than  tho  a'.isolutism  of  tho  government,  and  that 
cas  tho  rapid  depopulation  of  tho  country.  Alcmtijo  and 
Algarvcs  had  never  been  thoroughly  peopled  ;  the  devasta- 
tion produced  by  constant  war  could  not  be  ea.sily  repaired; 
and,  though  the  exertions  of  Diniz  the  Labourer  had  mad' 

XL\.  —  6g 


546 


PORTUGAL 


[histoey. 


Beira  the  garden  of  Europe,  the  southern  part  of  the  king- 
dom was  chiefly  in  the  hands  of  the  military  orders,  who 
ilid  not  suflSciently  encourage  immigration.  The  great  dis- 
coveries of  the  15th  century  quickened  the  depopulation 
of  Portugal.  Not  only  did  the  bulk  of  the  young  men 
gladly  volunteer  as  soldiers  and  sailors  to  go  in  search  of 
wealth  and  honour,  but  whole  families  emigrated  to  Madeira 
and  the  Brazils.  Also  the  Portuguese  who  did  continue  to 
live  in  their  native  country  flocked  to  Lisbon,  which  trebled 
in  population  in  less  than  eighty  years,  owing  to  the  large 
fortunes  which  could  be  made  there  in  trade.  The  king, 
the  nobles,  and  the  military  orders  were  quite  unconcerned 
at  this  extensive  emigration,  for  their  large  estates  were 
cultivated  much  more  cheaply  by  African  slaves,  who  were 
imported  from  the  time  of  the  first  voyages  of  Dom  Henry 
in  such  numbers  that  Algarves  was  entirely  cultivated  by 
them,  and  even  in  Lisbon  itself  they  outnumbered  the  free- 
men by  the  middle  of  the  16th  century.  In  this  respect 
the  condition  of  Portugal  resembled  that  of  Italy  at  the 
time  of  the  decline  of  the  Roman  empire,  as  the  wealth 
of  Lisbon  resembled  that  of  imperial  Home,  while  in 
another  re.=ipect  the  utter  corruption  of  the  oflicials  in 
the  factories  and  Indian  settlements  too  far  resembled 
the  peculation  and  corruption  of  the  Roman  proconsuls. 
While  the  Portuguese  nation  was  exhibiting  these  signs  of 
a  rapid  decline,  another  factor  was  added  by  the  religious 
zsal  of  John  III.  This  king  inherited  his  father's  bigotry 
and  ■fanaticism,  and  was  anxious  to  introduce  the  Jesuits 
and  the  Inquisition'  into  Portugal.  The  Church  of  Rome 
was  not  likely  to  hinder  his  pious  desire,  but  for  several 
years  the  "neo- Christians" — the  name  given  to  the  half- 
hearted converts  made  from  the  Jews  as  the  condition 
of  their  remaining  iti  Portugal — managed  to  ward  off  the 
blow.  But  the  king's  earnest  wish  was  gratified  at  last, 
and  in  1536  the  tribunal  of  the  Holy  Oflice  was  estab- 
lished in  Portugal  with  the  bishop  of  Ceuta  as  first  grand 
inquisitor,  who  was  soon  succeeded  by  the  king's  brother, 
the  cardinal  Henry.  The  Inquisition  quickly  destroyed 
all  that  was  left  of  the  old  Portuguese  spirit,  and  so  eflfectu- 
ally  stamped  out  the  Portuguese  revival  of  literature  that, 
while  towards  the  close  of  the  16th  century  all  Europe 
was  becoming  civilized  under  the  influence  of  the  Renais- 
sance, Portugal  fell  back  and  her  literature  became  dumb. 
The  king  had  his  reward  for  his  piety :  he  was  permitted 
to  unite  the  masterships  of  the  orders  of  Christ,  Santiago, 
and  Aviz  with  the  crown,  and  to  found  new  bishoprics  at 
Leiria,  Miranda,  and  Porto  Alegre ;  but  it  was  left  to  St 
Francis  Xavier  to  show  the  real  beauty  of  Christianity  in 
his  mission  to  the  Indies. 

It  was  in  India  that  the  decline  of  the  Portuguese  was 
most  perceptible.  Nuno  da  Cunha,  son  of  the  discoverer 
Tristan  da  Cunha,  governed  the  Indian  settlements  worthily 
tin  1536,  and  then  corruption  undermined  all  prosperity 
until  the  arrival  of  Dom  Joao  de  Castro  in  1545.  He  was 
a  Portuguese  he  o  of  the  noblest  tjrpe;  and  for  three  years 
the  friend  of  St  Francis  Xavier  revived  the  glories  of  Albu- 
querque by  winning  the  battle  of  Diu,  and  then  died  in  the 
missionary's  arms.  Everything  went  afterwards  from  bad 
to  worse,  tiU  even  observers  like  the  Dutchman  Cleynaerts 
saw  that,  in  spite  of  all  its  wealth  and  seeming  prosperity, 
the  kingdom  of  Portugal  was  rotten  at  the  core  and  could 
not  last.  King  John  in.,  satisfied  with  peace  and  the 
establishment  of  the  Inquisition  in  his  kingdom,  did 
nothing  to  check  the  decUne ;  and  he  endeavoured  to 
secure  his  aims  by  the  marriage  of  his  only  surviving  son 
John  to  his  niece  Joanna,  a  daughter  of  Charles  V.,  but 
ho  had  the  misfortune  to  outlive  his  son,  who  died  in  1554. 
^^'hen  he  himself  died  in  1557  he  left  the  crown  to  his 
.i^ranciion,  a  child  of  three  years  old,  the  ill-fated  Dom 
Sebastian. 


Nothing  could  be  more  disastrous  for  Portugal  than  the 
succession  of  a  minor  at  this  juncture.  Under  the  will  of 
John  III.  the  regency  was  assumed  by  Queen  Catherine 
and  the  cardinal  Henry,  his  widow  and  his  brother,  but 
all  power  was  exercised  by  the  brothers  Luis  and  Martim 
Gongalves  Camara,  of  whom  the  former  was  the  young 
king's  tutor  and  confessor  and  the  latter  prime  minister. 
In  1 568  Dom  Sebastian  was  declared  of  age  by  the  Camaras, 
who  thus  excluded  the  cardinal  from  even  a  semblance  ol 
power.  As  the  king  came  to  take  more  interest  in  affairs, 
the  mixture  of  imperiousness,  fanaticism,  and  warlike  ambi- 
tion which  made  up  his  character  began  to  make  its  mark 
upon  his  reign.  He  tried  to  check  the  luxury  of  his 
people  by  a  sumptuary  edict  that  no  one  might  have  more 
than  two  dishes  for  dinner;  he  encouraged  the  Inquisition ; 
and  he  dreamt  of  a  new  crusade  in  Africa  for  the  conquest 
and  conversion  of  the  Moors.  His  crusading  ardour  was 
most  objectionable  to  his  people,  who  had  highly  approved 
of  John  III.'s  surrender  of  all  ports  in  Africa  except  Ceuta, 
Tangiers,  ArziUa,  and  Mazagan,  but  the  Jesuits  and  young 
courtiers  about  his  person  encouraged  him  in  his  wild 
ideas.  In  1574  he  paid  a  short  visit  to  Ceuta  and  Tangiers, 
and  Ln  1576,  to  his  great  delight,  Mouley  Ahmed  ibn 
AbdallAh,  after  being  disappointed  in  his  application  to 
Philip  n.  for  help  against  Motiley  'Abd  al-Mehk,  sultan 
of  Morocco,  applied  to  Sebastian.  The  king  proceeded  to 
raise  money  by  harsh  taxes  on  the  converted  Jews  and  by 
partial  bankruptcy,  and  set  sail  for  Africa  on  24th  June 
1578  with  15,000  infantry,  2400  cavah-y,  and  36  guns; 
of  this  army  only  some  10,000  were  Portuguese,  the  rest 
consisting  of  Spanish  and  German  volunteers  and  mer- 
cenaries, and  900  Italians,  under  Sir  Thomas  Stukeley, 
whom,  when  on  his  way  to  deliver  Ireland  from  Elizabeth, 
Sebastian  had  stopped.  On  reaching  Africa  the  Portuguese 
king  was  joined  by  Mouley  Ahmed  with  800  Mohammed- 
ans. He  at  first  amused  himself  with  hunting,  and  then, 
just  as  Dom  Ferdinand  had  done  in  1436,  he  foolishly  left 
his  base  of  operations,  his  fleet,  and  the  sea,  and  began 
to  march  over  the  desert  to  attack  Larash  (El-Araish). 
Mouley  Abd  al-Mehk,  who  had  previously  endeavoured  to 
dissuade  the  young  king  from  his '  purpose,  collected  an 
army  of  40,000  cavalry,  15,000  infantry,  and  40  guns, 
and,  feeling  that  he  was  himself  on  the  point  of  death 
from  a  mortal  disease,  ordered  an  instant  attack  upon  the 
Portuguese  at  Alcicer  Quibir,  or  Al-kasr  al-Keblr,  on  4th 
August  1578.  Dom  Sebastian  behaved  like  a  brave 
knight,  though  he  had  not  been  a  prudent  commander, 
and  when  all  was  lost  he  was  determined  to  lose  his  own 
life  also.  According  to  the  most  trustworthy  account, 
Christovao  de  Tavora,  his  equerry,  had  shown  a  flag  of 
truce,  and  had  oflered  to  surrender  with  the  fifty  horsemen 
who  stU!  remained  about  the  king,  when  Seba;fetian  sud- 
denly dashed  on  the  Moorish  cavalry,  who,  irritated  by 
this  breach  of  faith,  instantly  slew  him  and  the  brave 
equerry  who  had  followed  his  master.  The  slaughter  was 
terrible;  Mouley  'Abd  al-MeUk  died  during  the  action; 
Mouley  Ahmed  was  drowned ;  Sir  Thomas  Stukeley  was 
killed,  with  many  of  the  chief  Portuguese  nobles  and  pre- 
lates, including  Don  Jayme  de  Braganza  (brother  of  the 
sixth  duke  of  Braganza),  the  duke  of  Aveiro  (who  had  com- 
manded the  cavalry),  and  the  bishops  of  Coimbra  and 
Oporto,  while  among  the  prisoners  were  the  duke  of  Bar- 
cellos  and  Duarte  de  Menezes.  The  sad  news  was  brought 
to  Lisbon  by  the  admiral  of  the  fleet,  Dom  Diogo  de  Sousa, 
and  the  cardinal  Henry  was  proclaimed  king  of  Portugal 
as  King  Henry  I. 

Hardly  had  the  new  king  been  crowned  when  intrigues 
began  about  his  successor.  He  could  not  live  long ;  but 
he  determined  not  to  examine  the  question  himself,  and 
80  summoned  a  cortes  at  Lisbon  at  once  to  decide  it.     Of 


HBTORY.] 


PORTUGAL 


547 


the  seven  candidates  only  five  need  be  seriously  considered," 
for  Pope  Gregory  XIII., who  claimed  as  heir-general  to  a  car- 
diaa],  and  Catherine  de'Medici,  who  claimed  through  Aflfonso 


inland  his  first  wife,  the  countess  of  Boulogne,  require 
no  further  notice  ;  the  relationship  of  the  other  five  to  Em; 
manuel  can  be  best  perceived  from  the  following  table  • — ■ 


Eramaixuel. 


John  III.,  Isabel, 

t.  1602,  d.  1557,         i.  1503,  d.  1539, 
.  Catherine  of  Austria,  m.  Charles  V. 


Beatiice, 

I>.  1504,  d.  153S, 

m.  Charles  III.  of 

>  Savoy. ^ 


Louis, 
b.  1506,  d.  1545, 
.  duke  of  Beja. 


Ferdinand, 
I.  1507,  d.  1534,' 
duke  of  Guarda. 


I 

AfTonso, 

6.  150'.t.  d.  1540, 

cardinal  and 

archbishop  of 

Lisbon. 


I 

Henry, 

b.  1512.  d.  1580, 

cardinal  and 

king. 


I 

Edward, 

b.  1515,  d.  1545, 

duke  of  Guimaraens, 

m.  (sabel  of  Braganzij 


John;  Philip  II.  PhiUbert  Emmanuel,  Antonio, 

6.  1537,  d.  1554,^  duke  of  Savoy.  prior  of  Crato 

m.  Joanna  of  Spalfh  (iUegitimate). 

Sebastian, - 
*.  1554,  d.  1578; 

It  clearly  appears  that  the  heiress  to  the  throne  was' 
Catherine,  duchess  of  Braganza,  and  failing  her  heirs  the 
duke  of  Parma,  and  that  the  claims  of  Philip  II.  and  of  the 
duke  of  Savoy  were  only  valid  in  case  of  the  extinction 
of  the  line  of  Dora  Edward.  Yet,  though  the  university 
of  Coimbra  declared  in  favour  of  the  duchess  of  Braganza,^ 
Philip  II.  set  to  work  to  win  over  tfie  majority  of j  the 
cortes.  Money  and  lavish  promises  assisted  the  eloquence 
of  his'  two  chief ;  supporters,  Christovao  de  *  Jloura  '  arid 
'Antonio  Pinheiro,  bishop  of  Leiria  ;  and  when  the  cardinal- 
king  died  on  31st  January  1580  the  cortes  was  quite  ready 
to  recognize  Philip,  although  the  people,' or  rather  ;that 
small  portion  of  the  inhabitants  who  were  really  Portu- 
guese, felt  their  old  disinclination  toward3\-the  union; of 
Spain  and  Portugal.  Philip  prevented  any  movement  on' 
the  part  of  the  duke  of  Braganza  by  promising  him  Brazil 
with  the  title  of  king,  and  a  marriage  between  the  prince' 
of  the  Asturias  and  his  daughter,  which,  as  the  duke  hated' 
■war  and  loved  ease,  were  readily  accepted  ;  but  to  Philip's 
surprise  a  competitor  whom  he  had  taken  no  account  of, 
■  Antonio,  the  prior  of  Crato,  declared  himself  king  at  San-^ 
tare'ra,  and  then  entered  Lisbon  and  struck  money.  ^  Port- 
ugal, however,  enervated  by  wealth,  oppressed  by  the  Inqui- 
sition, and  reduced  in  free  population,  felt  no  inclination 
to  make  a  powerful  stand  against  Philip,  who  had  all  the 
prestige  of  being  the  son  of  Charles  V.,',  while  the  hot-' 
headed  but  incapable  prior  of  Crato  could  not  be  compared' 
to  the  great  John  I.  ;  and  the  corte.s,  which  had  in  1385,'* 
under  the  honeyed  words  of  Jouo  das  Eegras,  enthusiasti-' 
cally  fought  for  Portugal,  in  1.580  listened  to  the  promises  of 
Christovao  de  Moura  and  rejected  the  prior  of  Crato.  The 
duke  of  Alva  entered  Portugal  at  the  head  of  a  Spanishj 
army  and  easily  defeated  Dom  Antonio  at  Alcantara,  after' 
Vhich  Philip  was  declared  king  of  Portugal.!  i 

The  other  candidates  were  obliged  to '  acquiesce  in 
t'hilip's  success  ;  the  duke  of  Braganza,  though  greatly  dis-, 
appointed  at  receiving  only  the  office  of  constable  and  the 
order  of  the  Golden  Fleece  instead  of  the  whole  of  Brazil, 
Was,  like  the  majority  of  his  countrymen,  too  apathetic 
to  strike  a  blow.  Philip  pledged  himself  to  recognize  the 
individuality  of  Portugal  in  a  cortes  held  at  Thomar  in 
1581,  when  he  promised  that  he  would  maintain  the  rights 
and  liberties  of  the  people,  that  the  cortes  should  be  as- 
sembled frequently,  that  all  the  ofTices  in  the  realm  should 
be  given  to  Portuguese  alone,  that  no  lands  or  jurisdiction 
ill  Portugal  should  be  given  to  foreigner.s,  and  that  there 
should  be  a  Portuguese  council,  whicn  should  accompany, 
the  king  everywhere  and  have  entire  charge  of  all  Portu- 
guese affairs.  But  the  lower  classes  refused  to  believe 
that  Dom  Sebastian  .was  dead, — a  belief  encouraged'by 
the  stratagem  6f  a » wounded  noblo  oh  the  evening  of  the 
Kittle  of  Al-ka,sr;-al-Kcbfr  to  gain  admission  into  tha  city 
of  Taugiers- by  a.sserting  that  he  <vas  the  king;_and-  fbut 
successive  impostors  arose,  who  a.s-iumed  the  name  ot,^the 
fe^d  monarch.  The  first  two,  who  were  mockingly  called 
iBt  "-king  of  Pennamacor"  and  the  "  king  of  Ericeira." 


I 

Catherinf, 
in.  duke  of  Braganza. 


I 

Maria, 

m.  duke  of  Psmiit 

I 

Kanuccio, 

duke  of  Parma. 


were  Portuguese  of  low  birth,  who  were  recognized  by  a  few 
people  in  the  vicinity  of  their  native  villages,  and  easiljl 
captured  in  1584  and  1585;  the  third,  Gabriel  E.spinosa, 
was  given  out  as  Dom  Sebastian  by  a  Portuguese  Jesuit, 
and  introduced  as  such  to  Donna  Anna,  a  natural  daughter 
of  Don  John  of  Austria,  who  believed  in  him,  but  he  was 
executed  in  1594: ;  while  the  fourth,  a  poor  Calabrian 
named  Marco  Tullio, '  who  could  not  speak  a  word  of 
Portuguese,  asserted  his  pretensions  at  Venice  as  late  aa 
^1603,  twenty-five  years  after  Dom  Sebastian's  death,  and, 
after  obtaining  some  success  in  Italy,  was  also  captured, 
sent  to  the  galleys,'  and  afterwards  executed.  Of  more 
importance., were  the  renewed  attempts  of  the  prior  of 
Crato  to  assert  his  claims  with  the  assistance  of  foreign 
'allies.  In  1582  he  proceeded  to  the  Azores  with  a  strong 
French  fleet  under  Philip  Strozzi,  but  his  ill-fortune  fol- 
lowed him:  Strozzi  was  defeated  and  killed  in  a  battle 
'with  the  Spanish  admiral  Don  Alvaro  de  Bacam,  and  Dom 
Antonio  fled  to  England.'  There  Elizabeth  received  him 
kindly,  and  in  1589  she  sent  a  strong  fleet  under  Drake  and 
Norris  to  help  him  win  back  his  "kingdom";  but  Drake 
and  Norris  quarrelled,  Portugal  showed  no  willingness  to 
receive  him,  nothing  was  done,  and  the  English  retired. 
The  unfortunate  prior,  finding  'that  Elizabeth  would  do 
nothing  more  for  him,  again  returned  to  Paris,  where  ha 
died  in  poverty  in  1594. 

"  The  sixty  years'  captivity,"  as  the  domination  of  Spain 
"over  Portugal  from  1580'to  1640  is  called,  was  a  time  of 
disaster  for  the  country  :  not  only  did  the  English  sack 
Faro  in  1595,but  Dutch,  English,  and  French  ail  jireyed 
upon  its  great  colonial  possessions;  the  Dutch  in  jiarticular, 
after  beating  the  Portuguese  in  India,  took  from  them  the 
greater  part  of  the  lucrative  Indian  trade.  This  they  did 
with  the  more  ease  since,  with  the  true  commercial  spirit, 
they  not  only  imported  merchandise  from  the  East  lo 
_  Holland  but  also  distributed  it  through  Dutch  merchants 
to  every  country  of  Europe,  whereas  the  Portuguese  in 
the  days  of  their  commercial  monopoly  were^satisfied  with 
bringing  over  the  commodities  to  Lisbon,' and  letting 
foreign  nations  come  to  fetch  them.  The  Dutch  incursiorv 
into  the  Indies  was  directly  caused  by  Philip's  closing  tho 
port  of  Lisbon  to  them  in  1594;  and  in  1595  Corneliu.i 
Houtman,  a  Dutchman,  who  had  been  employed,  by  tho 
Portuguese  as  an  Indian  pilot  and  then  imprisoned  by 
tlie  Inquisition,  offered  to  lead  a  Dutch  fleet  to  the  Indies^ 
and  in  1597  they  erected  a  factory  in  Java.  ,,They  specd'ily 
extended  their  sphere  of  operations  by  occupying  tha 
Moluccas  and  Sumatra, 'and  in  1G19  Uicy.<built  Bataviu 
OS  a  rival. commercial  capital  in  the.Eastito-Goa  Thu 
English.,  quickly  'followed  their  examjile  ;  in  tho  reign 
otnElizabcth  tho  Engli.sh  captains  had  been.! content  to 
ravage  Porna'mbuco  in  1594-95,  Fort' Xrguin  in  1595, 
and  thii  Azores  in  1596,  and  in  the.reign.o(  James  I. 
th'eaEast  ;^cUa  Company  was  established  in'  the  Indies  at 
Surat.  JThe  French  also  settled  thcmsclve.'s  in  Brazil  and 
opened  a  flourishing  trade  %Yith  South  America,  and. the 


548 


PORTUGAL 


[history 


west  coast  of  Africa ;  and  even  the  Danes  struck  a  blow 
against  the  monopoly  of  the  Portuguese  by  building  a 
factory  at  Tranquebar.  To  make  up  for  these  losses, 
what  had  Portugal  received  from  Spain?  The  promises 
made  to  the  cortes  at  Thomar  were  all  broken  ;  the  cortes 
was  only  summoned  once  in  1619  to  recognize  Philip,  the 
e'dest  son  of  King  Philip  III.,  as  the  heir  to  the  throne 
on  the  occasion  of  his  only  visit  to  Lisbon  ;  Lerma  and 
Olivares,  the  all-powerful  ministers  of  Philip  III.  and 
Philip  IV.,  appropriated  to  themselves  large  territories 
within  the  realm  of  Portugal ;  and,  whenever  it  was  pos- 
sible, Spaniards  were  installed  in  Portuguese  bishoprics 
and  civil  offices. 

At  last  a  blow  was  struck  against  this  supremacy  of 
Spain  in  the  revolution  of  1640  and  the  elevation  of  the 
house  of  Braganza  to  the  throne  of  Portugal.  Things  had 
been  tending  towards  a  revolution  for  a  long  time,  but 
the  final  impulse  came  from  the  energy  of  certain  noble- 
men, conjoined  with  the  weakness  of  Spain  and  the  hope 
of  assistance  from  France. 

!  The  general  discontent  was  shown  by  risings  in  Lisbon 
in  1634  and  in  Evora  in  1637,  where  for  a  short  time  the 
mob  ruled  the  city ;  and,  when  Spain  was  hampered  by 
the  Catalan  revolt  and  the  French  war,  the  opportunity 
seemed  favourable  for  the  Portuguese.  The  difficulty 
was  to  find  a  leader ;  the  eighth  duke  of  Braganza,  grand- 
son of  the  infanta  Catherine,  daughter  of  Dom  Edward, 
was  a  pleasure-loving,  easy-tempered  man,  fond  of  music 
and  hunting,  quite  happy  in  his  palace  at  Villa  Vii^osa ; 
but  the  energy  of  his  wife,  Luiza  de  Guzman,  Castilian 
though  she  was,  secured  his  passive  co-operation,  and  his 
confidential  adviser,  Joao  Pinto  Ribeiro,  soon  formed  a 
powerful  band  of  conspirators  among  the  Portuguese 
noblemen,  when  the  news  arrived  in  1640  that  the 
arrifere-ban  of  Portugal  was  summoned  to  fight  against 
the  Catalans.  Portugal  was  at  that  time  under  the 
nominal  government  of  Margaret  of  Savoy,  duchess  of 
Mantua,  who  was  surrounded  with  Spaniards  and  Italians  ; 
but  the  real  government  was  in  the  hands  of  the  tyran- 
nical secretary  of  state,  Miguel  de  Vasconcellos  de  Brito. 
Ribeiro  had  no  difficulty  in  collecting  together  many 
daring  and  discontented  noblemen,  of  whom  the  chief 
were  Miguel  de  Almeida,  Pedro  de  Mendonga  Furtado, 
Antonio  and  Luis  de  Almada,  Estevao  and  Luis  da  Cunha, 
Rodrigo  and  Emmanuel  de  Sd,  and  Jorge  de  Mello ;  and 
the  archbishop  of  Lisbon  himself,  Rodrigo  da  Cunha,  if  not 
actually  a  conspirator,  certainly  must  have  had  a  know- 
ledge of  what  was  going  on  through  his  relatives  the 
Almadas  and  Da  Cunhas.  The  plot  was  carefully  elabo- 
rated, parts  being  assigned  to  the  leading  conspirators, 
and  the  day  fijsod  was  the  1st  of  December.  The  plot 
was  completely  successful ;  the  archbishop  of  Lisbon  was 
appointed  lieutenant-general  of  the  kingdom,  with  Almeida, 
Mendonga,  and  A.  de  Almada  for  councillors,  and  expresses 
were  sent  off  to  the  duke  of  Braganza  to  inform  him  of  all 
that  had  passed  and  to  offer  him  the  crown.  He  was  at  first 
unwilling  to  accept  the  honour  thrust  upon  him,  bnt  the 
duchess,  on  whom  a  prophecy  that  she  should  be  a  queen 
had  had  a  great  effect,  persuaded  him  to  go  to  Lisbon, 
(where  he  was  crowned  as  King  John  IV.  on  13th  Decem- 
ber 1640.  The  -whole  of  Portugal  at  once  rose  and  ex- 
pelled the  Spaniards,  and  on  19th  January  a  full  cortes 
met  at  Lisbon,  which  recognized  King  John  as  king  of 
Portugal,  and  his  son  Theodosius  as  heu--apparent. 

The  Portuguese  knew  well  that,  in  spite  of  the  Catalan 
rebellion  and  the  terrible  wars  in  which  Spain  was  engaged', 
they  were  not  strong  enough  to  maintain  their  independ- 
ence without  foreign  help,  and  at  once  sent  ambassadors 
to  France,  Holland,  and  England.  Richelieu  was  charmed 
with  the  success  of  the  revolution,  hoping  to  make  Portugal 


a  thorn  in  the  side  of  Spain,  such  as  Scotland  had  been  to 
England  in  former  days,  and  he  at  once  sent  a  fleet  under 
De  Breze  to  the  Tagus ;  the  Dutch  also  sent  a  fleet  under 
G)'lfels  ;  but  Charles  I.  of  England  was  too  much  occupied 
with  his  .quarrels  with  his  parliament,  to  do  more  than 
merely  recognize  the  new  king. 

The  Portuguese  were  at  first  successful,  owing  to  the 
many  wars  in  which  Spain  was  involved,  and,  after  the 
defeat  which  Mathias  de  Albuquerque  inflicted  on  the  baron 
of  MoHngen  at  Montijo  on  26th  May  1644,  felt  at  their 
ea.-,e  in  spite  of  the  serious  plot  of  the  duke  of  Caminha 
and  the  archbishop  of  Braga,  until  it  became  obvious  that 
Mazarin  would  desert  them  without-  compunction  if  it 
suited  his  purpose.  The  old  Portuguese  colonies  at  once 
declared  for  their  fatherland,  and  this  brought  about  a 
colonial  war  with  Holland,  in  which  indeed  the  Portuguese 
generals  won  many  successes,  but  which  deprived  them 
of  the  assistance  of  the  Dutch  in  Europe.  Mazarin's 
refusal  to  insist  on  their  independence  at  the  congress  at 
Miinster,  though  he  protected  their  envoys  against  the 
Spaniards,  made  them  despondent ;  and  a  very  curious 
letter  of  Mazarin's  (4th  October  1647),  offering  the  crown 
of  Portugal  to  the  duke  of  Longueville,  exhibits  at  once 
the  feeble  character  of  John  IV.,  the  despair  of  the  Portu- 
guese, and  their  dependence  on  France.  !Mazarin's  deser- 
tion did  not  at  first  do  great  harm,  for  the  war  between 
France  and  Spain  continued,  though  peace  was  made  with 
the  empire.  In  the  midst  of  this  universal  war  John  IV. 
died  in  1656. 

As  the  prince  of  Brazil,  Dom  Theodosio,  the  eldest  son  ol' 
the  late  king,  had  predeceased  him,  his  second  son  Affonso, 
a  boy  of  thirteen,  succeeded  to  the  throne  as  Affonso  VL 
under  the  regency  of  his  mother.  The  queen-regent,  who 
had  always  been  more  energetic  than  her  husband,  deter- 
mined to  pursue  the  war  with  Spain  with  more  vigour  and 
summoned  Marshal  Schomberg  to  organize  her  armies. 
The  result  of  Schomberg's  presence  soon  appeared,  and  on 
14th  January  1659  Dom  Antonio  Luis  de  Menezes,  count 
of  Cantanhede,  won  a  victory  over  Don  Luiz  de  Haro  at 
Elvas.  This  victory  in  one  way  injured  the  Portuguese 
cause,  for  it  so  incensed  Don  Luiz  de  Haro  that,  during 
the  famous  conferences  at  the  Island  of  Pheasants  with 
Mazarin  which  led  to  the  signature  of  the  treaty  of  the 
Pyrenees  in  1659,  he  not  only  would  not  hear  of  any 
intercession  for  the  Portuguese  but  insisted  on  the  in- 
sertion of  a  secret  article  in  the  treaty  to  the  effect  that 
France  would  promise  to  entirely  abandon  them.  Neither 
Mazarin  nor  Louis  XIV.  intended  to  keep  this  secret 
article  and  give  up  the  advantage  of  having  such  a  useful 
ally  in  the  Penins"'a,  and  they  accordingly  looked  about 
for  some  means  tO  evade  it.  England  offered  the  oppor- 
tunity ;  Charles  XL  was  seeking  a  wife  and  gladly  accepted 
the  suggestion  that  he  should  marry  Catherine  of  Braganza, 
sioter  of  the  king  of  Portugal,  both  because  Portugal  had 
sheltered  his  cousins  Prince  Rupert  and  Prince  ]Maurice  in 
1650,  and  because  the  colonial  cessions  which  the  queen- 
regent  offered  as  her  daughter's  dowry  woidd  be  very  • 
popular  in  England.  The  marriage  was  accordingly  agreed 
upon  in  1661,  and  in  1662  the  earl  of  Sandwich  came  to 
bring  the  bride  from  Lisbon,  while  the  English  occupied 
Tangiers,  Bombay,  and  Galle  as  her  dowry,  and  promised 
to  send  troops  to  Portugal,  and  to  make  peace  between 
the  Dutch  and  the  Portuguese.  Before,  however,  the 
English  soldiers  arrived  and  the  final  struggle  with  Spain 
began,  a  family  revolution  had  taken  place  in  Portugal. 
The  young  king,  a  feeble  vicious  youth,  was  very  wroth 
that  his  mother  had  exiled  a  favourite  valet  to  the  Brazils, 
and  by  the  advice  of  two  noblemen  about  his  person 
suddenly  declared  himself  of  age  in  1662  and  tran.sferred 
the  government  to  the  able  hands  of  Luis  de   Soiisa 


HISTOKY.] 


P  O  R  T  U  G  A  1. 


549 


Vasconcellos,  count  of  Castel  MeUtior.  The  queen  retired 
to  a  convent  chagrined,  but  Castel  Melhor  continued  her 
policy,  and  for;aed  the  English  soldiers,  who  had  arrived 
inder  the  earl  of  Inchiquin,  some  French  and  German 
Volunteers  and  mercenaries,  and  the  newly-organized  Portu- 
guese levies  into  a  powerful  army,  of  which  Schomberg  was 
the  real,  though  not  the  ostensible,  commander.  With 
this  army  a  series  of  victories  were  won,  which  caused 
Aflfonso  VI.  to  be  surnamed  "AflFonso  the  Victorious," 
though  his  own  successes,  such  as  they  were,  were  con- 
fined to  the  streets  of  Lisbon.  On' 8th  June  1663  the 
count  of  Villa  Flor  with  Schomberg  by  his  side  utterly 
defeated  Don  John  of  Austria,  and  afterwards  retook 
Evora;  on  7th  July  1664  Pedro  Jacques  de  Magalhaes 
defeated  the  duke  of  Ossuna  at  Ciudad  Rodrigo;  on  17th 
June  1665  the  marquis  of  Marialva  destroyed  a  Spanish 
army  under  the  marquis  of  Carracena  at  the  battle  of 
Montes  Claros,  and  Christovao  de  Brito  Pereira  followed 
«p  this  victory  with  one  at  Villa  Vigosa.  These  successes 
entirely  broke  the  power  of  Spain,  and  peace  was  only  a 
matter  of  time,  when  Castel  Melhor  decided  to  increase 
both  his  own  power  and  that  of  Portugal  by  marrying 
the  king  to  a  French  princess.  Such  an  alliance  was 
highly  approved  of  by  Louis  XIV.,  and  the  bride  selected 
was  Marie  Frangoise  Elisabeth,  Mademoiselle  d'Aumale, 
daughter  of  the  duke  of  Savoy-Nemours  and  grand- 
daughter of  Henry  IV.  of  France.  The  marriage  was 
celebrated  in  1666  ;  but  Castel  Melhor  found  that,  instead 
of  increasing  his  power,  it  worked  his  ruin.  The  young 
queen  detested  her  husband,  and  fell  in  love  with  his 
brother  Dom  Pedro  ;  and  after  fourteen  months  of  a  hated 
union  she  left  the  palace  and  applied  for  a  divorce  on  the 
ground  of  non-consummation  to  the  chapter  of  the  cathedral- 
church  of  Lisbon,  while  Dom  Pedro  shut  up  King  AflFonso 
in  a  portion  of  the  palace  and  assumed  the  regency.  He 
was  recognized  as  regent  by  the  cortes  on  1st  January 
1668,  and  at  once  signed  a  peace  with  Spain  on  12  th 
February,  by  which  the  independence  of  Portugal  was  re- 
cognized in  return  for  the  cession  of  Ceuta.  This  peace, 
signed  at  Lisbon,  was  chiefly  negotiated  by  the  earl  of 
Sandwich  and  Sir  Richard  Southwell,  the  English  ambas- 
sadors at  Madrid  and  Lisbon.  On  24th  March  the  queen's 
divorce  was  pronounced  and  confirmed  by  the  pope,  and  on 
2d  April  she  married  the  regent.  Hjs  rule  was  gladly 
Bubmitted  to,  for  the  people  of  Portugal  recognized  his 
eterling  qualities,  which  compared  favourably  with  those 
of  the  unfortunate  Alfonso  VI.  Castel  Melhor  fled  to 
France,  and  the  king — for  Dom  Pedro  only  called  himself 
"regent" — was  imprisoned,  first  in  the  island  of  Terceira 
B.nd  then  at  Cintra,  till  his  death  in  1683,  the  very  same 
year  in  which  the  queen  also  died. 

As  long  as  AfTonso  VI.  lived,  Dom  Pedro's  power  was 
■not  thoroughly  established,  but  in  1683  ho  was  proclaimed 
king  as  Pedro  II.  His  reign  was  marked  by  good  internal 
administration,  the  breaking  out  of  the  War  of  the  Spanish 
•  Succession,  and  the  Methuen  treaty.  His  good  adminis- 
tration kept  him  from  being  .short  of  money,  and  enabled 
him  to  dispense  with  the  cortes,  which  never  met  between 
1697  and  1828;  but  the  war  of  the  succession  almost 
emptied  his  treasury.  He  had  in  1687,  at  the  earnest 
request  of  the  duke  of  Cadaval,  his  most  intimate  friend, 
con.sented  to  marry  again  in  order  to  have  an  heir,  and  had 
selected  Maria  Sophia  de  Neuburg,  daughter  of  the  elector 
palatine,  rather  to  the  chagrin  of  Louis  XIV.,  wlio,  in  the 
prospect  of  the  death  of  Charles  II.  of  Spain,  had  counted 
on  the  support  of  Pedro's  first  wife,  a  French  princess,  and 
Who  now  sought  to  form  a  strong  party  at  the  court  of 
Lisbon.  He  was  so  far  successful  that  on  the  death  of 
Charles  11.  King  Pedro  no*  only  recognized  Louis  .XlV.'s 
'grandson  as  Pliill|)  V.  of  Spain  but  in  1701    jirotccted  a 


Frencn  fleet  in  the  Tagus  under  the  count  of  Chastenau 
against  Sir  George  Rooke.  The  great  Whig  ministry  of 
England  was  not  likely  to  submit  to  tliis  desertion  on  tha 
part  of  England's  ancient  ally,  and  sent  the  Right  Honour* 
able  John  Methuen  in  1 703  to  Lisbon  with  full  powers  to 
make  a  treaty,  both  political  and  commercial,  with  Portugal 
On  27th  December  1703  he  signed  the  famous  Methuea 
treaty,  by  which  Portuguese  wines  were  to  be  import«J 
into  England  at  a  lower  duty  than  those  from  France  of 
Germany,  in  return  for  a  similar  concession  to  English 
textile  fabrics.  The  immediate  result  -ivas  that  Pedrft 
acknowledged  the  archduke  Charles,  and  the  ulterior 
that  Englishmen  drank  port  -wine  instead  of  claret  or 
hock  throughout  the  last  century^  while  the  Portuguese 
imported  nearly  everything  they  wanted  from  England 
and  remained  without  manufactures.  On  7th  March  1704 
Sir  George  Rooke  arrived  at  Lisbon,  convoying  10,000 
English  troops  under  Lord  Galway  and  the  archduke 
Charles  himself.  The  English  army  at  once  advanced 
with  a  Portuguese  auxiliary  force  and  took  Salvaterra  and 
Valenga.  In  the  following  year  but  little  was  done  on 
the  Portuguese  frontier,  because  the  archduke  had  sailed 
round  to  Barcelona,  and  Dom  Pedro,  who  was  slowly 
dying,  handed  over  the  regency  to  his  sister  Catherine, 
queen-dowager  of  England.  Had  he  been  conscious  he 
might  have  learned  of  the  great  successes  of  the  allied 
army  under  Joao  de  Sousa,  marquis  das  Minas,  and  Lord 
Galway,  who  in  rapid  succession  took  Alcantara,  Coria, 
Truxillo,  Placencia,  Ciudad  Rodrigo,  and  Avila,  and  even 
for  a  short  time  occupied  Madrid,  and  of  their  equally 
rapid  retreat ;  he  never  recovered  sufficiently,  however,  to 
know  of  these  movements ;  he  gradually  sank,  and  died  at 
Alcantara  on  9th  December  1706. 

The  long  reign  of  John  V.,  who  assumed  the  royal 
state  at  once  from  the  regent  Catherine,  resembles  the 
reign  of  John  III.  At  its  commencement  he  left  the 
power  in  the  hands  of  his  father's  friend,  the  duke  of 
Cadaval,  who  continued  Dom  Pedro's  policy  and  pro.secuted 
the  war  against  Philip  V.  Cadaval  bound  the  king  more 
surely  to  the  Anglo-Austrian  party  by  marrying  him  to  the 
archduchess  Marianna,  daughter  of  the  deceased  emperor 
Leopold  I.,  who  was  escorted  to  Lisbon  by  an  English  fleet 
under  Admiral  Byng  in  1708.  Yet  the  war  itself  did  not 
go  favourably  for  the  allies  in  Spain,  for  the  Spaniards 
had  become  enthusiastic  partisans  of  Philip  V. ;  and  in 
1709  a  Portuguese  army  under  the  marquis  of  Fronteira 
was  beaten  at  Caia,  while  in  1711  Dugiiay  Trouin  took 
and  sacked  Rio  de  Janeiro,  afterwards  the  cajjital  of 
Brazil.  The  war  languished  all  over  Europe  after  the 
accession  of  the  archduke  Charles  to  the  empire,  and  on 
6th  February  1715,  nearly  two  years  after  the  treaty  of 
Utrecht,  peace  was  signed  between  Portugal  and  Spain 
at  Madrid  by  the  secretary  of  state.  Lopes  Furtado  de 
Mondonga,  count  of  Corte-Rcal.  The  king,  as  soon  as  he 
began  to  pay  more  attention  to  aflairs,  exhibited  his  attach- 
ment to  the  papacy,  and  in  1717  sent  a  fleet  at  the  pope's 
bidding  on  a  crusade  against  the  Turks,  which  won  a 
naval  victory  off  Cape  Matapan.  The  king  declined  to 
join  the  war  against  Alberoni,  and  disclosed  a  tendency 
to  imitate  Louis  XIV.,  especially  in  building.  The  only 
indication  of  policy  he  showed  was  his  determination  to 
maintain  jieace  by  a  close  alliance  witli  Spain  :  his  daughter 
Maria  Barbara  was  married  to  the  infant  Don  Ferdinand, 
eldest  son  of  Philip  V.,  who  succeeded  to  the  throne  of 
Spain  as  Ferdinand  VI.,  while  the  Spanish  infanta  Marianna 
was  m.Trried  to  the  Portuguese  heir-apparent,  Dom  Joseph. 
The  enormous  .simis  of  money  which  .John  V.  lept  to  the 
l)opo,  to  the  real  impoverishment  ^f  his  country,  brought 
hini  rewards  which  were  of  no  real  vnliio,  but  which  were 
such  as  he  highly  esteemed  ;  namely,  the  archbishopric  of 


550 


PORTUGAL 


[history, 


Xiisbon  was  erected  into  a  patriarchate,  and  the  title  of 
i"  Fidelissimus  "  or  "  Most-Faithful  "  was  conferred  upon 
the  kings  of  Portugal,  to  correspond  with  those  of  "Most 
Christian  "  and  "  Most  Catholic  "  attributed  to  the  kings 
of  France  and  Spain  respectively. 

Joseph,  who  succeeded  his  father  in  1750,  had  the 
merit  of  perceiving  the  pre-eminent  powers  of  Sebastiao  de 
Carvalho,  who  governed  Portugal  throughout  this  reign, 
and  who,  under  his  title  of  the  marquis  of  Pombal  (see 
Pombal),  ranks  among  the  very  greatest  of  18th-century 
statesmen,  [n  everything — in  his  great  internal  and  ad- 
ministrative reforms,  in  his  financial  reforms,  in  the  re- 
organization of  the  army,  in  the  abolition  of  slavery,  and 
in  the  great  struggle  with  the  Jesuits — Joseph  supported 
his  minister.  Pombal  made  the  king  more  absolute  than 
ever,  and  exalted  the  royal  prerogative  while  using  it  for 
purposes  of  reform  ;  and,  in  return  the  king  maintained 
Pombal  in  power  in  spite  of  the  violent  protests  of  the 
priests  and  the  opposition  of  his  wife.  Circumstances 
greatly  helped  the  minister  to  establish  an  ascendency 
over  the  king's  mind :  his  conduct  at  the  time  of  the 
great  earthquake  on  1st  November  1755  secured  him  his 
high  position  over  the  other  two  secretaries  of  state  ;  the 
Tavora  plot  gave  him  the  influence  which  enabled  him 
to  overthr6w  the  Jesuits  in  1759  ;  and  the  second  attempt 
on  the  king's  life  in  1769  strengthened  his  hands  in  his 
negotiations  with  Rome  and  ensured  the  suppression  of 
the  order  in  1773.  The  only  war  in  which  Portugal  was 
engaged  during  this  reign  was  caused  by  the  close  alliance 
with  England,  for,  when  Choiseul  made  the  Family  Com- 
pact and  Spain  entered  upon  the  Seven  Years'  War,  a 
Spanish  army  under  the  marquis  of  Sarria  invaded  Port- 
ugal and  took  Braganza  and  Almeida  in  1762.  Pombal 
immediately  applied  to  England  for  help,  when  the  count 
of  Lippe-Biickeburg  came  over  with  a  body  of  English 
troops  and  set  to  work  to  organize  the  Portuguese  army  ; 
and,  mainly  owing  to  the  brilliant  services  of  Brigadier- 
General  Burgoyne,  the  Spaniards  were  defeated  at  Valencia 
de  Alcantara  and  Villa  Velha,  and  peace  was  made  on 
10th  February  1763.  The  close  of  the  reign  was  disturbed 
by  disputes  with  Spain  as  to  the  possession  of  Sacramento 
in.  South  America,  which  were  still  unsettled  when  King 
Joseph  died  on  20th  February  1777,  leaving  four  daughters, 
of  whom  the  eldest.  Donna  Maria  Francisca,  had  married 
the  king's  brother,  Dom  Pedro. 

The  accession  of  Donna  Maria  was  the  signal  for  the 
overthrow  of  tte  great  marquis  and  the  reversal  of  his 
policy.  The  new  queen  was  a  weak  woman,  and  her 
husband,  Dom  Pedro,  who  was  proclaimed  king,  was  a 
weak  man  ;  coins  were  struck  in  the  names  of  Pedro  III. 
and  Maria  I.,  but  both  sovereigns  were  ruled  by  the  queen- 
dowager,  who  hated  Pombal,  and  eventually  sentenced 
him  never  to  come  within  twenty  leagues  of  the  court. 
The  incapacity  of  his  successor  soon  became  manifest, 
while  the  queen,  who  was  completely  under  the  sway 
of  her  confessor,  Dom  Ignacio  de  San  Caetano,  found  her 
greatest  happiness  in  raising  and  sending  large  sums  of 
money  to  the  Latin  convent  at  Jerusalem.  Such  was 
the  state  of  Portugal  when  the  great  crisis  in  the  world's 
history  caused  by  the  French  Revolution  was  at  hand  ; 
and,  when  in  1792  it  became  evident  that  affairs  could 
no  longer  go  on  in  this  haphazard  fashion,  it  was  also 
evident  that  the  queen  was  no  longer  fit  even  for  the 
slight  fatigue  she  had  to  undergo.  Her  brain  had  given 
way  in  1788,  after  the  s'ccessive  deaths  of  her  husband, 
of  her  eldest  son  Dom  Joseph,  who  had  married  his  aunt, 
Donna  Maria  Benedicta,  and  of  her  confessor,  and  Dom 
John  found  it  necessary  to  take  the  management  of  affairs 
into  his  own  hands,  though  he  was  not  actually  declared 
regent  until  1799. 


About  the  time  that  Dom  John  became  regent  the. 
■ivish  to  check  the  spread  of  the  principles  of  the  French.' 
Revolution,  which  were  as  much  feared  in  Portugal  a^ 
in  all  other  Continental  states,  led  to  the  great  activity 
of  Dom  Diogo  Ignacio  de  Pina  Manique,  the  intendant- 
general  of  police.  He  eagerly  hunted  down  all  Portuguese 
gentlemen  suspected  of  encouraging  French  principles 
or  of  being  freemasons,  expelled  all  Frenchmen  from  the 
kingdom,  and  kept  a  jealous  eye  on  the  American  consul, 
Edward  Church,  and  a  merchant  named  Jacome  Ration, 
whom  he  declared  to  be  at  the  head  of  a  republican  con- 
spiracy. Moreover,  the  Portuguese  ministers  not  only^ 
combated  the  dreaded  French  principles  at  home,  they, 
also  believed  it  a  holy  duty  to  join  in  the  general  war, 
against  France,  and  therefore  a  corps  of  5000  men  was 
sent  into  the  eastern  Pyrenees  to  serve  under  General 
John  Forbes  Skelater,  and  four  ships  tmder  the  marquis 
of  Niza  joined  the  English  fleet  in  the  Mediterranean. 
The  Portuguese  force  under  Forbes  Skelater  served  in 
all  the  actions  in  the  eastern  Pyrenees,  shared  in  the  suc- 
cesses of  General  Ricardos,  and  in  the  defeats  of  the  count 
de  la  Union  and  General  Urrutia ;  but  nevertheless  the 
Spanish  Government,  then  under  the  influence  of  Godoy, 
the  Prince  of  the  Peace,  did  not  hesitate  to  desert  Portugal 
and  make  a  separate  peace  with  the  French  republic  at 
Basel  in  July  1795  This  naturally  drove  Portugal  into 
a  still  closer  alliance  with  England  ;  and,  when,  after  the 
treaty  of  San  Ildefonso  (1796),  by  which  Spain  declared 
war  against  England,  and  the  secret  convention  between 
P^rignon  and  Godoy  to  divide  Portugal  between  them, 
Spanish  troops  were  massed  on  the  Portuguese  frontiers, 
an  urgent  supplication  for  help  was  sent  to  England.  In 
response  the  House  of  Commons  voted  Portugal  a  subsidy 
of  £200,000  ;  a  force  of  6000  men  was  despatched  under 
Major-General  Sir  Charles  Stuart,  which  deterred  the 
Spaniards  from  attempting  an  invasion ;  and  the  prince 
of  Waldeck,  like  the  count  of  Lippe  in  former  days,  was 
sent  to  reorganize  the  Portuguese  army.  Yet  the  English 
party  was  not  strong  enough  to  carry  the  day  entirely ;  Sir 
Charles  Stuart  was  soon  withdrawn,  and  an  eftbrt  made  to 
secure  peace  with  France  through  the  mediation  of  Spain. 
But  the  concessions  of  the  French  party  were  of  no  avail ; 
the  First  Consul  was  as  violently  opposed  to  Portugal, 
as  being  a  province  of  England,  as  the  Convention  and 
Directory  had  been,  and  in  1 800  Lucien  Bonaparte  was  sent 
to  Madrid  with  instructions  from  his  brother  to  insist  on 
the  abandonment  of  the  English  alliance,  on  the  opening 
of  Portuguese  ports  to  France  and  the  closing  of  them 
to  England,  on  the  extension  of  French  Guiana  to  the 
Amazons,  on  the  cession  of  a  portion  of  Portugal  to  Spain, 
until  the  recovery  from  England  of  Trinidad.  Port  Mahon, 
and  Malta,  and  on  the  payment  of  a  large  .sum  of  money, 
and  he  was  authorized  to  offer  to  Spain  a  corps  of  15,000 
Frenchmen  if  these  hard  terms  were  rejected.  The  Portu- 
guese ministers  did  reject  them,  and  immediately  Leclerc's 
corps  entered  Spain.  The  campaign  lasted  but  a  few 
days.  Olivenza  and  Campo  Mayor  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  Spaniards,  who  also  won  bloodless  victories  at  Arronches 
and  Flor  da  Rosa.  Peace  was  made  at  Badajoz  with  Spain, 
by  which  Portugal  ceded  Olivenza,  and  at  Paris  with 
France,  by  which  it  consented  to  the  extension  of  French 
Guiana  to  the  Amazons,  and  promised  alarge  indemnity. 
Napoleon  Bonaparte  was  anything  but  satisfied  with  the 
treaty  of  Badajoz,  and  received  Lucien  on  his  return  with 
but  little  favour,  for  his  aim  was  utterly  to  destroy  I'ortugal 
as  a  nation ;  and  it  was  with  a  full  intention  to  excite  her 
to  war  that  he  sent  one  of  the  roughest  and  least  educated 
of  his  generals,  Lannes,  as  ambassador  to  Lisbon.  LanneS 
acted  fully  up  to  his  chief's  expectations  :  he  ordered  the 
dismissal  of  all  the  ministers  who  favoured  England,  and 


PISTORy.] 


PORTU   GAL 


551 


was  ooeyed  both  from  fear  of  France  and  from  a  dislike 
,of  England  owing  to  her  high-handed  naval  policy.  Even 
/this  humble  submission  of  the  regent  did  not  satisfy 
Napoleon,  and  in  1804  he  replaced  Lannes  by  Junot,  whom 
he  ordered  to  insist  upon  Portugal's  declaring  war  against 
England.  Then  for  a  time  he  desisted  from  executing  his 
plans  against  the  country  owing  to  his  great  campaigns  in 
Europe,  and  made  a  treaty  of  neutrality  with  the  Portu- 
guese Government.  At  length  in  1807,  having  beaten 
Austria,  Prussia,  and  Russia,  Napoleon  again  turned  his 
thoughts  to  his  project  for  the  annihilation  of  Portugal, 
which  had  become  more  than  ever  a  thorn  in  his  side, 
since  it  refused  to  co-operate  in  his  Continental  schemes 
for  ruining  England.  He  resolved  at  first  to  act  with 
Spain  and  Godoy,  as  Perignon  had  done  in  1797,  and  on 
29th  October  1807  signed  the  treaty  of  Fontainebleau,  by 
which  it  was  arranged  that  Portugal  should  be  conquered 
and  divided  into  three  parts  :  the  northern  portion  should 
be  given  to  the  king  of  Etruria  in  the  place  of  his  Italian 
kingdom,  which  Napoleon  desired  to  annex,  while  the 
southern  portion  was  to  be  formed  into  an  independent 
kingdom  for  Godoy,  and  the  central  provinces  were  to  be 
held  by  France  until  a  general  peace.  The  signature  of 
the  treaty  was  followed  by  immediate  action  :  Junot  moved 
with  an  army  rapidly  across  Spain,  and,  together  with  a 
Spanish  force  under  General  Caraffa,  entered  Portugal 
from  the  centre,  while  General  Taranco  and  General  Solano 
with  two  other  Spanish  armies  occupied  the  Minho  and 
Alemtejo.  With  amazing  rapidity  Junot  accomplished 
the  march,  and  the  Portuguese  hardly  knew  that  war  was 
imminent  until  on  27th  November  Colonel  Lecor  rushed 
into  Lisbon  vnth.  the  news  that  the  French  were  in  posses- 
sion of  Abrantes.  This  alarming  intelligence  unnerved 
the  regent,  who  listened  to  the  strongly-worded  advice  of 
Sir  Sidney  Smith,  commander  of  the  English  ships  in  the 
Tagus,  to  abandon  his  kingdom  for  the  Brazils,  and  leave 
the  English  to  defend  Portugal ;  and  on  27th  November 
Dom  John,  after  naming  a  council  of  regency,  went  on 
board  the  English  fleet  with  his  whole  family,  including 
the  queen  Maria  I.  The  English  ships  had  hardly  left  the 
Tagus  when  a  small  force  of  wearied  French  soldiers,  who 
were  all  that  remained  from  the  terrible  fatigues  of  tlifi 
march,  entered  Lisbon  on  30th  November. 

Nothing  proves  more  certainly  the  widel3'-spread  exi6t-\l 
ence  of  what  were  called  French  principles — that  is  to  say, 
democratic  ideas— in  Portugal  than  .the  hearty  reception 
which  Junot  met  with  from  the  first.  At  Santarem  a 
deputation  of  the  freemasons  of  Portugal,  who  were  there, 
as  in  other  Continental  countries,  a  secret  society  for  the 
propagation  of  democratic  principles,  welcomed  him  ;  the 
marquis  of  Alorna  with  the  army  instantly  submitted  to 
him ;  and  the  council  of  regency,  knowing  the  temper  of 
the  citizens,  made  no  attempt  to  hold  Lisbon  against  him. 
But  Junot  showed  no  desire  to  grant  the  Portuguese  a 
constitution,  and  after  seizing  all  the  money  in  the  royal 
itreasury  he  divided  the  country  into  military  governments 
under  hi.s  generals,  issuing  on  1st  February  a  proclamation 
'that  the  house  of  Braganza  had  ceased  to  reign.  He  then 
jbegan  to  hope  that  he  himself  might  succeed  the  Braganzas, 
and  for  this  purpose  sought  to  conciliate  the  Portuguese 
by  reducing  the  requisition  demanded  by  Napoleon  from 
forty  millions  of  francs  to  twenty  millions,  and  commenced 
a  negotiation  with  the  radical  or  French  party  in  Portugal 
through  Luca  de  Scabra  da  Silva  to  induce  them  to  send 
a  petition  or  deputation  to  the  emperor,  asking  for  Junot 
to  be  their  king.  But  his  attempts  at  conciliation  were 
of  no  avail  ;  and,  when  the  Spanish  general  Bellesta,  who 
had  succeeded  Taranco  at  Oporto,  seized  the  French 
governor,  General  Quesnel,  declared  for  the  regent,  and 
«iiarched  into  Galicia,  Junot  departed  fmni  Lisbon,  leaving 


the  city  in  the  hands  of  a  regency,  headed  by  the  bishop 
of  Oporto.  The  bishop  at  once  sent  to  England  for  help, 
and  encouraged  fresh  revolts  all  over  the  kingdom,  till 
nearly  every  city  in  Portugal  rose  against  the  French  and 
established  its  own  junta  of  government.  Meanwhile  the 
English  Government  had  willingly  listened  to  the  request 
of  the  bishop  of  Oporto,  and  ordered  the  small  army  which 
had  been  collected  at  Cork,  u)ider  the  command  of  Lieu- 
tenant-General  Sir  Arthur  Wellesley,  for  an  expedition  to 
South  America,  to  proceed  to  Portugal.  Sir  Arthur  landed 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Mondego  river,  advanced  towards  Lis- 
bon, and,  after  defeating  Laborde's  division  at  Roli^a  on 
17th  August  1808,  routed  Junot  himself  at  Vimieiro  on 
21st  August.  These  victories  were  followed  by  the  con- 
vention of  Cintra,  by  which  Junot  agreed  to  vacate  Portugal 
and  give  up  all  the  fortresses  in  his  possession  ;  this  con- 
vention, however  disappointing  from  a  military  point  of 
view,  was  eminently  satisfactory  to  the  Portuguese  people, 
who  saw  themselves  as  speedily  delivered  from  the  French 
as  they  had  been  conquered  by  them.  The  regency  was 
again  established,  and  at  once  despatched  Domingos 
Antonio  de  Sousa  Coutinho,  a  brother  of  the  count  of  Lin- 
hares,  to  London,  to  ask  that  an  English  minister  with 
full  powers  should  be  sent  to  Lisbon,  and  that  Sir  Arthur 
Wellesley  might  be  appointed  to  reorganize  their  army. 
Their  requests  were  qomplicd  with  :  the  Right  Honourable 
J.  C.  Villiers  was  .sent  to  Lisbon,  and,  as  Sir  Arthur  Welles- 
ley could  not  be  spared,  Major-General  Beresford,  who  had 
learned  Portuguese  when  governor  of  Madeira,  which  he 
had  occupied  in  the  preceding  year,  was  sent  to  command 
their  army.  Portugal,  however,  was  not  yet  safe  from  the 
French  ;  Sir  John  Moore's  advance  to  Salamanca  and  his 
retreat  to  Corunna  had  left  the  country  but  slightly  gar- 
risoned, and,  in  spite  of  the  braggadocio  of  the  bi.shop, 
Oporto  quickly  fell  into  the  hands  of  Marshal  Soult. 
Fortunately  Soult,  like  Junot,  was  led  away  by  the  idea 
of  becoming  king  of  Portugal,  and  did  not  advance  on 
Lisbon,  thus  giving  time  for  Sir  Artliur  Wellesley  again 
to  arrive  in  the  country  with  a  powerful  army.  In  the 
interval  the  Portuguese,  in  spite  of  some  spirited  fights 
by  General  Silvoira,  had  shown  how  little  they  could  do 
in  their  disorganized  state,  and  the  English  Government 
determined  to  -send  out  English  officers  to  organize  them 
and  to  take  10,000  Portuguese  into  Engli.sh  pay.  Mean- 
while Sir  Arthur  Wellesley  had  driven  Soult  from  Oporto, 
had  advanced  into  Spain,  and  won  the  battle  of  Talavcra, 
From  these  successes  of  the  English  general  it  is  pitiable 
to  turn  to  the  Portuguese  regency.  With  the  departure 
of  the  king  all  the  able  men  of  the  royal  party  seemed  to 
have  left  the  country  ;  the  leaders  of  the  radical  party 
were  either  in  disgrace  or  had  fled  to  France ;  and  none 
were  left  to  compose  the  regency  save  a  set  of  intriguers, 
whose  chief  idea  was  to  get  as  much  money  from  England 
as  possible.  The  best  part  of  the  nation  had  entered  the 
army,  hence  Marshal  Beresford,  aided  by  the  adjutant- 
general  Manuel  do  Brito  Mousinho,  soon  organized  a  force 
which  at  Busaco  proved  "itself  worthy  to  fight  beside  the 
English  soldiery.  The  regency  got  from  bad  to  worse, 
till  neither  Beresford  nor  Wellington  could  work  with  it, 
and  the  Engli-sh  cabinet  had  to  demand  that  Sir  Charles 
Stuart  (son  of  General  Sir  Charles  Stuart),  their  ambas- 
sador at  Lisbon,  should  receive  a  place  upon  it.  His  great 
ability  and  tact  soon  made  him  master,  and  a  certain  portion 
of  the  money  .sent  by  England  to  pay  the  Portuguese  troops 
did  then  find  its  way  to  its  proper  destination.  Yet  the 
regency,  even  when  thus  strengthened,  failed  to  make  itself 
popular  ;  and  that  thero  was  a  large  radical  party  in  Lisbon 
is  sufficiently  proved  by  the  deputation  of  eighteen  journal- 
ists,to  the  Azores  in  September  1810.  The  troubles  of 
Portugal  were  not  yet  over ;  the  most  formidable  invasion 


552 


PORTUGAL 


[histoet. 


of  all  was  to  come.  During  tte  time  of  Massena's  cam- 
paign in  Portugal  the  Portuguese  showed  the  valour  of  a 
truly  heroic  nation.  When  Lord  Wellington  determined 
to  retire  to  the  lines  of  Torres  Vedras,  he  commanded  all 
the  peasants  to  desert  their  fields  and  leave  nothing  for 
the  French  to  subsist  upon,  and  they  obeyed  him  with 
touching  fidelity.  The  Portuguese  troops  fully  proved 
their  value  as  soldiers  when  led  and  trained  by  such  English 
generals  as  Pack  and  Ashworth,  Bradford  and  John  Hamil- 
ton, on  every  battlefield  in  the  Peninsala  and  the  south  of 
France,  and  especially  at  Salamanca  and  the  Nivelle.  They 
■well  deserved  the  praise  bestowed  upon  them  by  Wellington 
and  Beresford,  and  the  enthusiastic  reception  which  they 
met  with  when  they  returned  home  in  1814. 
;  Shortly  after  the  conclusion  of  the  war,  in  1816,  the  mad 
queen  ISIaria  I.  died,  and  the  regent  succeeded  to  the  throne 
as  King  John  VI.  The  English  Government  earnestly 
pressed  him  to  return  to  Lisbon,  where  dissensions  in  the 
regency  and  the  universal  discontent  urgently  summoned 
him.  But  the  now  king  was  perpetually '  hampered  by 
his  intriguing  and  ambitious  wife,  Carlota  Joaquina,  who, 
in  order  to  raise  a  party  in  her  favour,  had  as  early  as 
1805  promised  a  constitution  to  the  Portuguese,  and  in 
1812  had  plotted  to  become  independent  queen  of  Brazil. 
The  regency  had  become  intensely  unpopular,  for  Sir 
Charles  Stuart  and  Marshal  Beresford  ruled  despotically ; 
and  the  mass  of  the  people,  who  had  been  willing  to  endure 
the  despotism  of  the  English  during  the  terrible  war  for 
existence,  as  well  as  the  army,  which  had  willingly  obeyed 
the  English  officers  on  the  field  of  battle,  grew  weary  of 
foreign  rule  in  time  of  peace  and  raised  the  cry  of  Portugal 
for  the  Portuguese.  Directly  after  the  war,  in  1817,  the 
first  rising  took  place  in  Lisbon  in  the  form  of  a  pronun- 
ciamento  of  General  Gomes  Freire  de  Andrade,  who  had 
commanded  the  Portuguese  contingent  in  the  Eussian 
campaign  of  1812  ;  but  it  was  instantly  and  cruelly  sup- 
pressed by  Beresford  and  the  regency,  and  the  general  and 
eleven  others  were  executed.  Yet  the  radical  party  was 
hy  no  means  conquered,  and  when  Beresford  went  to  Rio 
de  Janeiro  in  1820  advantage  was  taken  of  his  absence 
by  the  people  of  Oporto,  headed  by  certain  officers  in  the 
•garrison,  to  raise  the  cry  for  reform  ;  the  regency,  unable 
to  act  without  Beresford,  gave  way  before  a  similar  rising 
at  Lisbon  ;  the  English  officers  were  everjrwhere  expelled ; 
a  new  regency  was  proclaimed  ;  Beresford  was  not  allowed 
to  land  when  he  returned  from  Brazil ;  and  a  constituent 
assembly  was  summoned.  The  new  assembly,  consisting 
largely  of  men  of  the  most  radical  opinions,  at  once  abol- 
ished the  Liquisition  and  the  relics  of  feudajism,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  draw  up  an  impracticable  constitution,  which 
showed  that  they  had  studied  the  glowing  speeches  of  the 
men  of  the  French  Revolution  and  had  not  profited  by  a 
knowledge  of  their  mistakes. ,  Prussia,  Austria,  and  Russia 
withdrew  their  ambassadors,  and  England  insisted  on  John's 
returning  to  his  kingdom.  He  accordingly  left  the  Brazils 
to  the  government  of  his  elder  son  Pedi'o,  and  set  out  for 
Portugal,  where  in  1822,  at  the  earnest  request  of  that 
son,  he  solemnly  swore  to  obey  the  new  constitution.  He 
was  at  Once  met  by  the  opposition  of  the  queen  and  his 
younger  son  Dom  Miguel,  who  refused  to  recognize  the 
constitution ;  in  consequence  they  were  expelled  from 
Lisbon.  This  event,  with  the  invasion  of  Spain  by  the 
French  to  put  down  the  rebeUion  of  1823,  encouraged 
Francisco  da  Silveira,  count  of  Amarante,  to  raise  a  pro- 
nunciamento  in  Tras-os-Montes ;  but  the  king  at  Lisbon 
declared,  amid  loud  applause,  that  the  constitution  of  1822 
was  abrogated  and  his  own  absolutism  restored,  and  he 
appointed  the  count  of  Palmella,  the  head  of  the  English 
or  constitutional  party,  to  be  his  minister.  But  the  abso- 
lutist party  did  not  aim  at  a  new  form  of  constitutional 


government ;  they  were  desirous  to  reinstate  the  old  abso- 
lutism. The  queen  and  Dom  Miguel  headed  a  new  plot ; 
the  king's  friend,  the  marquis  of  Loul6,  was  assassinated  ; 
Palmella  was  imprisoned  and  the  king  himself  shut  up  in 
his  palace.  The  united  action  of  the  foreign  ministers 
who  had  remained  in  Lisbon  freed  the  king ;  the  new  in- 
surrection was  suppressed ;  Palmella  was  again  appointed 
minister ;  and  the  king,  with  the  two  chief  conspirators, 
the  queen  and  Dom  Miguel,  left  Portugal  once  more  for 
the  Brazils.  In  the  following,  year  (1826)  John  VI.  died, 
leaving  by  his  will  his  daughter,  the  infanta  Isabel  Maria, 
as  regent,  to  the  great  disappointment  of  Dom  Miguel, 
who  had  returned  to  Portugal  with  the  expectation  of  re 
ceiving  it  as  his  inheritance,  while  his  brother  Dom  Pedro 
ruled  in  Brazil. 

The  next  twenty-five  years  aie  the  darkest  in  the  whols 
history  of  Portugal  and  the  most  complicated  to  analyse, 
for  the  establishment  of  parliamentary  government  waa 
no  easy  task  ;  it  is  almost  impossible  to  follow  the  rapid 
changes  which  succeeded  each  other,  and  quite  impossible 
to  understand  the  varying  motives  of  the  different  states- 
men and  generals.  The  keynote  to  the  whole  series  of  the 
disturbances  is  to  be  found  in  the  influence  of  the  army. 
Beresford's  creation  wds  a  grand  fighting  machine ;  but 
armies,  and  more  particularly  gensrals,  are  almost  certain 
to  intrigue  in  times  of  peace.  On  ascending  the  united 
thrones  Dom  Pedro  IV.  proceeded  to  draw  up  a  charter  Pcdw 
containing  the  bases  of  a  moderate  parliamentary  goverur'^' 
ment  and  sent  it  over  to  Portugal  by  the  English  minister. 
Sir  Charles  Stuart,  and  then  abdicated  the  crown  of  Portugal 
in  favour  of  his  daughter,  Donna  Maria  da  Gloria,  a  child 
only  seven  years  old,  on  condition  that  she  married  his 
brother  Dom  Miguel,  who  was  to  recognize  the  new  con- 
stitution. The  charter  was  received  with  joy  by  the  parlia- 
mentary party  and  Palmella  became  prime  minister ;  but 
in  1827  the  king  foolishly  appointed  Dom  Miguel  to  be 
regent  in  Portugal.  This  ambitious  prince  was  exceedingly 
popular  with  the  old  nobility,  the  army,  and  the  poor ;  and, 
having  declared  himself  absolute  king,  he  drove  the  whole 
constitutional  or  chartist  party — Palmella,  Saldanha,  Villa 
Flor,  Sampaio,  and  their  adherents — into  exile.  ,  They  fled 
to  England,  where  the  young  queen  then  was,  but,  although 
they  found  popular  opinion  strongly  in  their  favour,  they 
found  also  that  the  duke  of  Wellington  and  his  Tory 
ministry  highly  approved  of  Dom  Miguel's  behaviour,  and 
that  they  persisted  in  confounding  the  moderate  and  the 
radical  parties,  and  ■  in  believing  that  Palmella  was  a 
democrat.  Meanwhile  the  reign  of  Dom  Miguel  had  be- 
come a  reign  of  terror,  and  a  new  movement  was  begun  by 
the  conjoined  chartist  and  radical  parties,  who  respectively 
advocated  the  charter  of  1826  and  the  constitution  of  1822, 
but  who  sank  their  diff'erences  to  oppose  Dom  Miguel.  The 
island  of  Terceira  (Azores)  had  never  submitted  Jo  this 
prince,  and  there  in  1829  the  marquis  of  PahneUa,  the  count 
of  Villa  Flor,  and  Jos6  Antonio  Guerreiro  declared  them- 
selves regents  for  the  young  queen;  and. on  11th  August 
1830  they  defeated  in  Praia  Bay  the  fleet  sent  against 
them  by  Dom  Miguel.  This  victory  was  the  first  ray  of 
hope  to  the  chartist  party ;  all  who  could  get  away  from 
Portugal  hastened  to  the  Azores  ;  and  in  1831  Dom  Pedro, 
having  resigned  the  imperial  crown  of  Brazil  to  his  infant 
son,  came  to  London  to  join  his  daughter  and  prepare  for 
a  vigorous  struggle  against  his  brother.  He  met  with 
acquiescence,  if  not  encouragement,  from  the  Liberal  Gov- 
ernment of  Earl  Grey,  and  managed  to  raise  a  large  loan ; 
then  he  hetook  himself  with  all  the  troops  he  could  raise 
to  the  Azores,  where  he  appointed  the  count  of  Villa  Flor 
general-in-chief  and  Captain  Sartorius  of  the  English  navy 
commander  of  the  fleet.  In  July  1832  Dom  Pedro  arrived 
at  Oporto  with  7500  men,  being  enthusiastically  welcomed 


J 


HISTORY.] 


PORTUGAL 


553 


1)7  the  citizens ;  Dom  Miguel  instantly  laid  siege  to  the 
city.  The  siege  was  a  terrible  one  ;  want  within  the  walls 
and  cholera  among  the  besiegers  decimated  the  armies,  and 
the  only  real  success  gained  was  the  victory  of  Sartorius 
over  the  fleet  of  Dom  Miguel  on  11th  October.  In '1833 
more  vigorous  action  began  ;  Major-General  Joao  Carlos 
Saldanha  de  Oliveira  e  Daun,  count  of  Saldanha,  an  old 
officer  of  Beresford's  and  a  member  of  the  Palmella  Govern- 
ment in  1825,  took  the  command  in  Oporto  and  beat  off 
the  French  general  Bourmont,  who  had  been  engaged  by 
Dom  !Miguel  to  command  his  "forces ;  the  count  of  Villa 
Flor  sailed  from  Oporto  to  Algarves,  defeated  General 
Telles  Jordao,  and  after  a  triumphal  march  northwards 
occupied  Lisbon ;  and  Captain  Charles  Napier,  who  had 
succeeded  Sartorius,  destroyed  Dom  ^Miguel's  fleet  off  Cape 
St  Vincent  in  1833.  In  this  year  Queen  Maria  came  to 
Lisbon  and  was  received  with  transports  of  delight,  while 
Dom  Pedro  as  regent  again  proclaimed  the  charter  of  1826. 
The  year  1834  was  one  of  unbroken  success  for  the  chartists; 
England  and  France  recognized  the  queen,  and  the  Spanish 
ministry  of  Queen  Isabella,  knowing  Dom  Miguel  to  be  a 
Carlist,  sent  two  corps  under  Generals  Rodil  and  Serrano 
to  the  help  of  Dom  Pedro.  Saldanha  defeated  the  forces 
of  the  usurper  at  Torres  Novas  and  Alaujoster ;  Napier 
reduced  Beira ;  Villa  Flor,  who  had  been  made  duke  of 
Terceira,  reduced  Tras-os-Montes  and  won  a  victory  at 
Asseiceira ;  S4  de  Bandeira  reduced  Alemtejo ;  the  com- 
bined Spanish  and  Portuguese  armies  surrounded  the  rest 
of  Dom  Miguel's  adherents  at  Eyora  Monte ;  and  Dom 
Miguel  himself  capitulated  on  26th  May.  By  the  Con- 
vention of  Evora  Monte  the  usurper,  on  condition  of  re- 
ceiving a  pension,  promised  to  leave  Portugal  for  ever ; 
and  the  cortes  at  Lisbon  not  only  declared  him  and  his 
heirs  ineligible  for  the  throne  but  forbade  them  to  return 
to  Portugal  under  penalty  of  death.  This  same  cortes 
attempted  to  arrange  the  finances,  and  abolished  the  orders 
Df  the  friars,  who  had  hitherto  kept  alive  the  party  of 
rebellion  in  the  villages,  and  finally,  at  Dom  Pedro's  request 
— for  he  felt  his  health  failing — declared  the  queen  of  age 
on  18th  September  1834.  Dom  Pedro,  who  had  through- 
out been  the  heart  and  soul  of  his  daughter's  party,  retired 
to  Queluz  (near  Lisbon),  where  he  died  six  days  after- 
wards from  the  effects  of  his  great  labours  and  fatigues. 

The  death  of  Dom  Pedro  deprived  Queen  Maria  II.,  who 
was  now  only  fifteen,  of  her  greatest  support,  but  a  very 
strong  ministry  was  formed,  with  the  duke  of  Pahnella  as 
president  and  the  duke  of  Terceira  at  the  war  office.  Such 
a  ministry  might  have  lasted  for  a  long  time,  but  neither 
the  queen,  the  nobility,  nor  the  people  understood  the  prin- 
ciples of  real  constitutional  government,  and  the  army  was 
li  constant  source  of  danger.  Members  of  different  parties, 
while  not  conceiving  that  all  alike  loved  Portugal,  believed 
»incerely  in  their  own  opinions  :  the  party  in  power  pro- 
scribed and  exiled  its  opponents,  while  the  party  in  opposi- 
tion invariably  appealed  to  arms  instead  of  seeking  to 
obtain  office  by  legitimate  parliamentary  means.  In  addi- 
tion, the  country  was  ravaged  by  bands  of  brigands,  who 
called  themselves  "  Miguelites,"  and  who  perpetually 
escajKid  into  Spain  when  attacked  in  force ;  and,  as  each 
Government  refused  to  recognize  or  pay  interest  upon  the 
loans  raised  by  its  predecessors,  the  financial  credit  of 
Portugal  soon  fell  to  a  very  low  ebb  in  the  money  markets 
of  Europe.  It  is  unprofitable  to  oxpmino  here  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  chief  statesmen  of  the  time  as  nevr  Govem- 
luents  quickly  .succeeded  each  other ;  it  will  bo  sufficient 
to  notice  only  the  chief  pronunciamentos  and  appeals  to 
amis,  and  to  remark  the  gradual  approach  to  real  parlia- 
mentary government.  Queen  Maria  da'  Gloria's  reign  is, 
one  of  violent  jiarty  struggles,  for  they  can  hardly  bo 
.«alled  civil  wars,  so  little  did  they  involve,  and  that  of 


King  Luis  the  reign  of  definite  and  peaceable  parliamentary 
government.  In  her  earlier  years  the  Cjueen  was  chiefly 
under  the  influence  of  her  stepmother,  the  second  wife  of 
Dom  Pedro,  Amelia  of  Bavaria,  and  in  1835  she  married 
the  queen -dowager's  brother,  Augustus  Charles  Eugene 
Napoleon,  duke  of  Leuchtenberg,  second  son  of  Eugfene 
Beauharnais  by  the  princess  Augusta  of  Bavaria,  who  died 
two  months  after  his  marriage,  in  March  1835.  In  the 
following  January  Maria  married  Prince  Ferdinand  of 
Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  nephew  of  Leopold,  the  first  king  of 
the  Belgians ;  and  it  was  his  nomination  to  the  post  of 
commander-in-chief  that  iirought  about  the  first  apjieal  to 
arms.  In  September  1836  Fernando  Scares  da  Caldeira 
headed  a  pronunciamento  in  Lisbon  for  the  re-establish- 
ment of  the  constitution  of  1822,  which  was  conij)letely 
successful,  and  resulted  in  the  drawing  up  of  a  new  con- 
stitution. The  constitution  of  1838,  which  was  really  that 
of  1822  slightly  modified,  managed  to  work  till  1842, 
when  one  of  the  radical  ministers,  Antonio  Bermudo  de 
Costa  Cabral,  suddenly  declared  the  charter  of  1826  at 
Oporto.  The  duke  of  Terceira  headed  a  successful  pro- 
nunciamento in  favour  of  the  charter,  and  came  into  office 
with  Costa  Cabral  as  home  secretary  and  virtual  prime 
minister.  Costa  Cabral,  who  in  1845  was  created  count 
of  Thomar,  made  himself  very  acceptable  to  the  queen,  and, 
interpreting  the  charter  in  the  most  royalist  sense,  even 
attempted  to  check  the  freedom  of  the  press.  It  was  now 
the  turn  of  the  radicals  or  Septembrists  to  have  recourse  to 
arms  ;  after  an  attempt  to  place  Saldanha  in  office,  the 
opposition  broke  out  into  open  insurrection  under  the 
viscount  of  Sd  de  Bandeira,  the  count  of  Bomfim,  and  the 
count  das  Antas.  This  new  insurrection  is  kno'^vni  as  the 
War  of  Maria  da  Fonte  or  "  patuleia,"  and  was  not  sup- 
pressed until  the  conclusion  of  the  convention  of  Granada 
on  29th  June  1847,  when  a  general  amnesty  was  declared, 
Saldanha  being  continued  in  power.  Queen  Maria  da 
Gloria  died  on  15th  November  1853,  and  her  husband, 
the  king-consort,  Dom  Ferdinand  II.,  assumed  the  regency 
until  his  eldest  son  Dom  Pedro  V.  came  of  age. 

The  era  of  peaceful  parliamentary  government  which 
succeeded  the  stormy  reign  of  Queen  Maria  11.  has  been 
one  of  prosperity  for  Portugal,  and  much  of  that  jieaco 
and  prosperity  is  due  to  the  great  literary  and  historical 
revival  which  is  signalized  by  the  names  of  Joao  Baptista 
de  Almeida  Garrett  and  Antonio  Feliciano  de  Castilho^ 
of  Alexandre  Herculano  de  Carvalho  o  Araujo  and  Luis 
Augusto  Rebello  da  Silva.  Men  were  not  wanting  in  the 
early  part  of  the  19th  century  to  advocate  the  formation 
of  an  Iberian  republic  or  kingdom,  comprising  the  whole 
of  the  Peninsula;  but  the  revival  of  national  pride  in  recall- 
ing the  glorious  past  of  Portuguese  history,  which  has  been 
the  work  alike  of  Herculano  and  Almeida  Garrett  in  dif- 
erent  lines,  has  breathed  afresh  the  sj)irit  of  patriotism  into 
a  people  who  had  been  almost  wearied  out  by  continual 
pronunciamentos.  The  only  political  event  of  any  import- 
ance during  the  reign  of  Dom  Pedro  V.,  who  came  of  age 
and  a.s.sumed  the  government  in  1855,  and  who  in  1857 
married  the  princess  Steplianio  of  Hohenzollern,  was  the 
affair  of  the  "  Charles  et  Georges."  This  French  ship  was 
engaged  in  what  was  undoubtedly  the  slave-trade,  though 
slightly  disguised,  off  the  coast  of  Africa,  when  it  was 
seized  by  the  authorities  of  Mozambique,  and,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  laws  and  treaties  against  the  slave-trade,  ita 
captain,  Roussel,  was  condemned  to  two  years'  imprison- 
ment. The  emperor  Napoleon  III.,  glad  to  have  a  chanco 
of  posing  before  the  French  people,  and  counting  on  his 
close  alliance  with  England,  instantly  sent  a  largo  fleet  to 
the  Tagus  under  Admiral  Lavaud,  and  demanded  compen- 
sation, which,  as  England  showed  no  signs  of  assistance, 
Portugal  was  compelled  to  pay.    Tlie  whole  country,  especi- 


554 


PORTUGAL 


[history. 


ally  the  city  of  Lisbon,  was  ravaged  by  cholera  and  yellow 
^ever  ouring  this  reign,  itself  evidence  of  the  extreme 
neglect  of  all  sanitary  precautions  ;  and  on  11th  November 
1861  the  king,  who  refused  to  quit  the  pestilence-stricken 
capital,  died  of  cholera,  and  was  speedily  followed  to  the 
grave  by  two  of  his  brothers,  Dom  Ferdinand  and  Dom 
John. 

At  the  time  of  Dom  Pedro's  death  his  brother  and  heir, 
Dora  Luis,  was  travelling  on  the  Continent;  and  his  father, 
Dom  Ferdinand,  again  assumed  the  regencj'  until  his  son's 
return,  soon  after  which  Luis  married  JIaria  Pia  of  Savoy, 
daughter  of  Victor  Emmanuel,  king  of  Italy.  The  new  king 
followed  his  brother's  policy  and  allowed  his  ministers  to 
fight  their  battles  in  the  chambers  without  interference  from 
himself.  During  his  reign  the  old  combatants  of  the  reign 
of  Maria  da  Gloria  died  off  one  by  one, — Palmella,  Terceira, 
Thomar,  Saldanha,  and  SA  de  Bandeira.  Their  successors 
in  political  leadership,  the  duke  of  Louie,  Aguiar,  the  mar- 
quis of  Avila,  and  Antonio  Manuel  Pontes  Pereira  de  Mello, 
though  not  inferior  in  administrative  ability,  always  avoided 
an  appeal  to  arms,  and  therefore,  if  they  do  not  contribute 
striking  pages  to  the  historj-  of  Portugal,  certainly  con- 
tributed more  to  the  prosperity  of  the  country.  The  last 
pronunciamento,  or  rather  attempt  at  a  pronunciamento, 
of  the  last  survivor  of  Queen  Maria's  turbulent  statesmen, 
the  duke  of  Saldanha,  in  1870,  only  proved  how  entirely 
the  day  of  pronunciamentos  had  gone  by.  He  conceived 
the  notion  that  the  duke  of  Loul6,  as  a  freemason  and  an 
advanced  progressist,  was  a  favourite  with  the  king,  after 
the  manner  of  the  duke  of  Polignac  and  Charles  X.  of 
Franco ;  so,  recalling  a  few  such  historical  examples  to 
the  king's  mind,  he  insisted  on  the  duke's  dismissal,  and 
threatened  an  appeal  to  arms.  The  king,  perceiving  that 
Saldanha  was  in  earnest,  and  kno'n'ing  the  great  influence 
of  the  old  man,  consented  to  dismiss  the  duke  of  Louie. 
After  keeping  Saldanha  himself  in  office  for  four  months, 
Luis  sent  him  as  ambassador  to  London  notwithstanding 
his  eighty  years,  where  he  could  do  no  mischief,  and  where 
he  died  in  1876.  The  steady  prosperity  of  Portugal  has 
been  largely  due  to  the  present  form  of  government  based 
on  the  charter  of  1826,  as  modified  in  1852,  and  is  borne 
witness  to  by  the  reconstitution  of  the  House  of  Peers  in 
1878  from  an  hereditary  assembly  to  one  of  life  peers.  It 
is  a  notable  fact  that  the  two  loans  raised  by  the  Portu- 
guese Government  in  1880  and  in  1882  were  quickly  sub- 
scribed, and  mainly  within  Portugal  .itself.  Of  recent 
years  much  attention  has  been  drawTi  to  the  Portuguese 
settlements  in  Africa,  since  the  opening  up  of  the  interior 
has  made  them  of  vast  importance  on  both  the  east  and 
the  west  coast.  The  king,  ministers,  and  people  of  Portu- 
gal are  fully  aware  of  the  new  vista  to  thetr  prosperity 
thus  disclosed  to  them,  and  the  Portuguese  travellers  Serpa 
Pinto,  Roberto  Ivens,  and  Brito  Capello  have  taken  an 
important  share  in  the  explorations  which  have  opened  up 
the  interior  of  Africa  and  paved  the  way  for  its  develop- 
ment. Public  works,  however,  have  rot  been  neglected, 
and  Fontes  Pereira  de  !Mello,  the  leader  of  the  "regener- 
ador"  party,  who  has  been  prime  minister  three  times — 
from  1871  to  1877,  from  1878  to  1882,  and  from  1883— 
has  steadily  improved  and  extended  the  railway. and  tele- 
graph systems,  and  carried  out  the  more  difficult  labours 
of  sanitary  reform.  Education  also  has  not  been  neglected, 
and  a  good  system  of  secondary  and  primary  education 
has  been  established,  mainly  owing  to  the  labours  of  the 
Portuguese  poet,  Antonio  Feliciano  de  Castilho.  The  share 
taken  by  the  leaders  of  the  great  literary  and  historical 
revival — which  dates  from  the  conclusion  of  the  civil  wars 
of  1846  and  the  publication  of  the  first  volume  of  Hercu- 
lano's  History  of  Portugal  in  1848 — in  Portuguese  political 
and  social  reform  is  a  marked  feature  of  the  modern  parlia- 


mentary life  of  the  countr}- ;  and  not  only  have  the  poets 
Almeida  Garrett  and  Mendes  Leal  and  the  historian  Eebello 
da  Silva  held  office,  but  many  of  the  most  promising  of  the 
new  generation  of  literary  men,  such  as  Latino  Coelho  and 
Pinheiro  Chagas,  have  distinguished  themselves  in  politics. 
Few  countries  so  well  realize  the  advantages  of  a  constitii- 
tional  and  parliamentary  form  of  government  as  Portugal ; 
socialism  possesses  there  a  reforming,  not  a  revolutionary 
force  ;  unity  of  pride  in  their  country  inspired  by  great 
wTiters  has  made  the  modern  Portuguese  ambitious  to 
revive  the  glories  of  the  past,  and  united  men  of  all  shades 
of  opinion  in  a  common  patriotism.  The  Camoens  celebra- 
tion of  1880  showed  that  the  Brazilians  were  still  proud 
of  their  mother-country,  and  that  the  Portuguese  race  all 
over  the  world  was  ready  to  develop  new  energy  and  per- 
severance, and  to  prove  its  true  descent  from  the  men  who 
under  ASonso  Henriques  overthrew  the  Moors,  who  under 
John  I.  and  John  IV.  rejected  the  rule  of  the  Spaniards, 
under  Afibnso  de  Albuquerque  and  Joao  de  Castro  con- 
quered the  East,  and  who  by  the  voyage  of  Vasco  de  Gama 
created  a  new  era  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

BiUiography. — The  best  continuous  history  of  Portugal  is  still 
that  of  Heiuiich  Schaefer,  in-  Heeren  and  Ukert's  Eiiropdische 
Staats-Geschichtc,  1840-46,  partly  translated  into  Portuguese  by 
J.  L.  Domingues  de  Mendon9a  (tisbou,  1842-47),  which  quite 
eclipsed  the  very  ordinary  works  of  Diogo  Lemos  (20  vols.,  1786- 
'  18201,  Sonsa  Montciro  (10  vols.,  1S38),  and  J.  F.  Pereira  (3  vols., 
1846-48),  and  the  two  chief  English  and  French  histories  up  to  that 
date, — J.  Dunham's  (along  with  that  of  Spain)  in  Lardner's  Cabinet 
Cijchjwdia  (1838-43),  and  Bouchot's,  in  Duruy's  Bistoire  Uni- 
vcrsdle  (1846).  After  the  publication  of  Schaefer 's  History,  and 
not  uninfluenced  by  it,  Alexandre  Herculano  commenced  his  gi'cat 
work,  the  Historia  de  Pmtugal  (4  vols.,  1848-53),  in  which  he 
overthrew  old  legends  and  treated  history  scientifically.  Owing, 
however,  to  the  persecution  and  libellous  pamphlets  of  such  men 
as  Francisco  Recreio,  J.  D.  S'onseca  Pereira,  and  A.  C.  Pereira,  he 
closed  his  work  at  the  year  1279  ;  but  from  1854  to  1857  he  pub- 
lished his  Da  Origem  e  Estabehcimcnto  da  Inquisi(;So  em  Portugal, 
which  also  caused  a  great  outcry.  Nevertheless  his  example  was 
followed,  and  a  series  of  extremely  good  histories  has  been  issued 
during  the  last  twenty  years,  notably  L.  A.  Kebello  da  Silva's 
Jlistoria  de  Portugal  pendente  XVI.  e  XVJI.  Seeiilos  (5  vols., 
1860-71),  which  covers  the  failure  of  Dom  Sebastian  and  the  revolu- 
tion of  1640  ;  J.  M.  Latino  Coelho's  Historia  de  Portugal  dcsde  os 
fins  do  XVIII.  Seculo  atd  JSI4  (1874)  ;  J.  F.  Fonseca  Benevides's 
Zas  Rainhas  de  Portugal  (1878) ;  and  the  extremely  interesting 
and  illustrated  Historia  de  Portugal  in  37  parts  by  Antonio  Ennes, 
B.  Ribeiro,  Edouard  Vidal,  G.  Lobato,  L.  Cordeiro,  and  Pinheiro 
Chagas  (1877-83).  The  new  historical  school,  headed  by  the  vis- 
count of  Santarem,  has  also  spent  much  time  upon  the  conquests 
of  the  Portuguese  in  India,  and  Herculano  edited  the  Eoteiro 
de  Vasco  de  Gama  ;  nor  must  the  admirable  editions  of  the  old 
Portuguese  navigators  and  travellers  published  by  the  Hakluj  t 
Society  be  omitted,  or  the  well-kiibwn  Life  of  Prince  Henry  of 
Portugal,  by  R.  H.  Major  (London,  1868),  which  has  been  trans- 
lated into  Portuguese  by  J.  A.  Ferreira  Brandao  (1876).  The  new 
school  has  paid  attention  to  the  publication  of  the  early  chronicles 
of  Portugal,  and  since  1856  several  volumes  of  Portiigalliee  ilonu- 
menta  Historica  have  been  issued  by  the  Lisbon  Academy  of  Sciences 
under  the  direction  of  Herculano ;  but  this  work  was  not  neglected 
by  their  predecessors,  as  appears  in  the  Colleecao  dos  Livros  ineditos 
de  Historia  Portugue:a,  edited  by  J.  F.  Correa  da  Serra  for  the 
academy  (11  vols.,  1790-1804),  and  the  Collcccdo  dos'  principaes 
Audores  da  Historia  Portiigueza,  published  in  the  same  manner 
(1806).  Fa-dera,  too,  were  not  neglected  during  the  present 
centiu'y  ;  there  exist  two  good  collections  :  one,  commenced  by  the 
viscount  of  Santarem  as  Quadra  elcmeniar  das  Rclacoes  polilica-s  e 
diplomaticas  de  Portugal,  and  continued  by  Rebello  da  Silva  for 
the  academy  as  Corpo  diplomaiieo  Porlugucz,  extends  fiom  the 
early  days  of  the  monarchy  till  1640  (36  vols.,  1856-78);  the 
other,  which  is  practically  a  continuation  of  the  first,  is  called  a 
Collcccdo  dos  Actos  publicos  eelebrados  entre  a  Coroa  de  Portugal 
e  as  mais  Potcncias  dcsde  I64O  atd  ao  Presentc,  commenced  by  J. 
Ferreira  Borges  de  Castro,  and  continued  by  J.  Judice  Biker 
(8  vols.,  1856-66).  Two  works  on  constitutional  history  here 
deserve  mention,  Memorias  para  a  Historia  das  Inquiracocs  dos 
primeiros  Reinados  dc  Portugal,  published  (1816)  by  the  Lisbon 
College  of  Diplomatics,  and  Meynorias  para  a  Historia  e  Theoria 
das  Cortes,  by  the  viscount  of  Santarem  (Lisbon,  1828).  Before 
noticing  books  treating  exclusively  of  the  history  of  the  present  cen- 
tury, a  {".vr  special  works  and  articles  ought  to  be  enumerated,  suc'^ 
as  the  chevalier  de  Jant's  Relations  de  la  France  avec  le  Portugal 


piTERATtTPr.] 

ait  Xcmps  d»  Uazarin,  by  Jules  Tessier  (Paris,  1877) ;  Vevtot's 
Jtevolutions  de  Portugal  (Paris,  1678);  Miguel  d'Antas,  Lcs /aiix 
D.  Sebastien  (Paris,  18G6) ;  R.  Carte's  History  of  llu.  Revolutions  of 
Portugal  from  the  Foundation  of  that  Kingdom  to  the  year  1677, 
leith  Letters  of  Sir  £.  Southwell  during  his  JSmbassy  there  to  the 
Duke  ofOrmond  (London,  1710),  which  are  the  best  books  on  their 
respective  subjects,  and  two  articles  in  vol.  ii.  of  the  Anrmcs  das 
Sciencias  Moraes  e  Politicas,  "  D.  Joao  II.  e  la  Nobreza,"  by  L.  A. 
Kebello  da  Silva,  and  "  Apontamentos  para  a  Historia  da  Couquista 
de  Portugal  por  Filippe  II.,"  by  A.  P.  Lopes  de  Meudon9a.  The 
literature  of  the  history  of  the  last  hundred  years  requires  careful 
selection  ;  the  best  work  is,  however,  the  Historia  da  Ouerra  dvil 
e  do  Estabelecimento  do  Governo  parlementar  em  Portugal,  by  Simiao 
Jose  da  Luz  Soriano  (8  vols.,  1866-82) ;  for  the  Peninsular  War 
see,,  besides  Napier's  idstory,  the  Historia  geral  da  Invasdo  dos 


F  O  11  T  U  G   A  J^ 


555 

Francezcs  em  Portugal,  by  Accursio  das  Neves  (Lisbon,  1810-11),  and 
Excerptos  hisforieos  relativos  a  Guerra  denomiuada  da  Peninsula, 
e  as  anteriorcs  de  ISOl,  de  Roussillon  e  Catalmla,  by  Claudio  do 
Chaby  (1863).  The  period  of  the  war  of  Doni  Miguel  is  best  seen 
in  the  Memorial  para  a  Historia  do  tempo  que  duron  a  Usurpa(:aii 
de  D.  Miguel,  by  J.  L.  Freiro  de  Carvalho  (Lisbon,  1841-43) ;  the 
Historia  da  Liberdade  em  Portugal,  by  J.  G.  Barros  Cunha  (Lisbon, 
1869)  ;  The  Civil  War  in  Portugal,  and  tlie  Siege  of  Oporto  by  a 
British'  Officer  of  Hussars  [Colonel  Ba'dcock]  (1835) ;  and  The  IVari 
of  Succession  of  Spain  and  Portugal,  by  'William  BoUaert  (vol.  i. 
1870).  For  the  ensuing  period  consult  the  Despachos  e  Corrcspoiid- 
cncia  do  Duqtic  de  Palmella  (3  vols.,  1851-54) ;  ttie'Corrcspondenci- 
official  de  Condc  de  Cameira  cotn  o  IJuquc  de  Palmella  (1874) ;  an^ 
the  Memoirs  of  t/u  Duke  of  Saldanha,  by  the  count  of  Carnota  (i 
vols.,  1880).  (H.  M.  S.) 


PART  III.— LITERATURE, 


Portugal  has  a  distinct  literature  as  well  as  a  distinct  history, 
and  one  which  is  intimately  bound  up  with  the  growth  of  the 
nation.  The  biographies,  histories,  and  travels  of  the  16th  cen- 
tury are  unrivalled  of  their  age  in  brilliancy  and  vigour,  while  the 
poetry  of  a  land  where  all  men  are  singers  is  not  only  admirable  in 
itself  but  illustrates  a  continuous  and  undecided  struggle  between 
native  and  foreign  schools.  The  period  of  the  growth  of  national 
independence  and  of  the  victories  over  the  Moors  was  that  of  the 
brilliant  poetry  of  the  Portuguese  troubadours,  which  became  at 
last  tnily  characteristic  ;  but  the  brilliancy  speedily  died  away  with 
peace  and  national  unity,  to  be  revived  in  the  heroic  period  of 
Vasco  de  Gama  and  Albuquerque.  For  in  the  16th  century,  after 
the  classical  school  of  Si  de  Miranda  had  given  a  polish  to  the 
language,  the  national  epics  of  Camoens  and  his  followers  were 
produced,  which  might  have  yielded  more  lasting  results  had  not 
the  Spanish  dominion  paralysed  all  national  life.  In  more  modern 
times  the  reaction  against  mere  imitations  of  foreign  literature  has 
resulted  in  the  formation  of  a  new  native  school  by  which  much 
good  work  both  in  poetry  and  in  historical  research  has  already 
'■een  accomplished. 

12th  to  nth  Century. — The  Portuguese,  Gallewan,  and  Bable 
dialects  are  subdivisions  of  that  form  of  the  Lingua  Romana 
Rustica  which  was  spoken  in  G.ilicia  and  the  western  provinces 
of  the  Iberian  Peninsula,  and  which  until  the  15th  century  was 
,  the  literary  language  of  Castile  itself.  The  remains  of  "the  early 
poets  are  necessarily  scanty,  but  they  are  sufficient  to  show  that 
the  courtly  troubadours  of  Portugal  and'  Castile  were  certainly 
not  inferior  to  the  more  noted  singers  of  Provence.  In  some 
respects  they  were  even  superior,  since,  not  being  tied  to  the  forms 
of  a  merely  literary  language  such  as  the  Provenfal,  they  were 
able  to  borrow  both  form  and  matter  from  a  vigorous  national  poetiy 
which  can  be  traced  through  the  different  races  which  successively 
occupied  Portugal.  The  "alalala,"  which  afterwards  developed 
into  the  "  aravia,"  the  earliest  form  of  the  epic,  is  probably  a  legacy 
from  the  original  Turanian  inhabitants;  the  "guayado,"a  short 
lyric  with  the  refrain  "  ay  "  or  "guai,"  was  derived  from  thcii-  Celtic 
successors;  the  "cantos  de  ledino  'are  evidences  of  the  Roman 
conquest,  which  in  turn  gave  place  to  the  "chacoues"  or  dance-songs 
of  the  Visigoths  ;  while  during  the  Arab  dominion  the  sen.5U0U3 
" serranilhas "  and  "cantos  de  amigo"  found  a  place  in  the  family 
"cancioneiros, "  which  were  then  compiled  in  imitation  of  the  divans 
or  tribal  songs  of  the  ruling  race.  'Phis  national  poetry,  however, 
was  for  long  affected  in  its  literary  form  by  foreign  influences. 
From  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  AfTonso  Henriqucs  (1112)  to  the 
death  of  Dom  Sancho  II.  (1248)  the  court  was  under  direct  Proveni;al 
influence;  audit  is  not  improbable  that  in  11 46  the  celebrated  trouba- 
dour Marcabrun  was  himself  attached  to  the  suite  of  Donna  Matilda 
on  her  marriage  with  AfTonso  Henriqucs,  since  ho  was  certainly  a 
visitor  at  the  court  in  1147.  The  poets  Egas  Moniz  Coelho  and 
Qon;alo  Hermingucz  are  commonly,  though  erroneously,  referred 
to  the  time  of  Alfonso  Henriqucs,  who  was  nimself  a  poet ;  but  the 
name  (and  poem)  of  only  one  undoubtedly  Portuguese  troubadour  of 
this  pcrio'3  has  survived,  JoSo  Soares  de  Panha  (1145-1204).  Tho 
history  of  Ualician  literature  properly  belongs  to  that  of  Spain, 
but  it  is-  important  to  remember  that  Portugal  is  perhaps  even 
more  than  Castile  the  heir  of  its  early  efforts.  Amongst  the 
Oalician  poets  who  frequented  tho  court  of  Sancho  I.  (118.'i-1211) 
and  formed  a  strong  opposition  to  the  Italo-Provcnr,al  school  were 
AfTonso  Gomez,  Fernam  Goncalves  do  Senabria,  and  Joao  Soares  do 
Paiva.  The  most  famous  of  their  ProvcnQal  rivals,  who  doubtless 
were  tho  more  readily  welcomed  otving  to  the  Idng's  marriage  with 
a  daut;hter  of  Raymond  Berenger  IV.,  count  of  Provence  and  king 
of  Aiagon,  were  Peire  Vidal,  Pciro  Valeira,  and  Gavaudan  o  Vclho, 
who  in  a  "sirvente"  written  about  1210  incited  tho  Christians  to 
a  cruside  «gainst  tho  Moors.  Affon.so  III.  (1248-1279)  returned 
from  his  residence  at  the  court  of  St  Louis  of  France  imbued  with 
northern  rather  than  with  .southern  sentiments,  and  consequently 
during  his  reign  ?'rench  influences  prevailed.  Tho  nobles  who 
h«d  accompanied  him  were  "  trouveres    rather  than  "  troubadours  " 


and  to  one  of  them,  AfTonso  "Lopes  de  Bayam,  belongs  the  taonoul 
of  writing  tho  first  Portuguese  gesta,  a  Gesta  de  Maldizer.  Othei 
celebrated  poets  of  this  Franco-Provencal  school  were  the  "privados," 
or  court  poets,  Joao  de  Aboini,  the  author  of  several  sirventes  and 
tensons,  but,  like  De  Bayam,  the  writer  also  of  cantos  de  amigo 
and  cantos  de  ledino,  Fernao  Garcia  Esgaravunha,  and  Joao  Garcia 
0  Pinto,  his  brother.  The  privados  were  in  their  turn  satirized  by 
Martira  Moxa  and  Loureni;o  and  Diogo  Pezelho,  who.  belonged  to 
the  less  privileged  class  of  "  segreis,"  a  term  applied  to  those  singerj 
who  wandered  from  court  to  court.  The  king's  songs  have  been 
lost,  or  at  least  cannot  be  identified,  but  he  is  reputed  to  have  been 
lib  mean  poet,  and  a  sirvente  against  Alphonso  A.  of  Castile,  which 
appears  from  internal  evidence  to  have  been  written  by  him,  is 
still  extant.  To  this  period  also  belonged  the  privados  Fernao 
Fernandes  Cogominho,  the  writer  of  cantos  de  amigo  and  serran- 
ilhas, and  Estevam  Coelho,  of  whose  works  two  lovely  serranilhas 
remain  of  the  purest  Galician  form  and  feeling.  Tho  works  of 
these  poets  show  that,  notwithstanding  foreign  influence,  tha 
national  forms  had  already  obtained  some  degree  of  favour  at 
court.  Similarity  in  tlie  literary  language  led  to  considerable 
intercourse  between  Portugal  and  CastUe,  and  the  Galicians  Pero 
da  Ponte  and  Alfonso  Eanes  de  Cotou  were  entertained  by  AfTon.-iO 
III.,  while  the  Portuguese  poets  Pero  Gomes  Barroso,  Payo  Gomes 
Charrinho,  and  Goncalo  Eanes  do  Vinhal  enjoyed  the  patronage  of 
Alphonso  the  "Wise.  On  the  accession  of  Diniz  (1279-132^)  the  court 
literature  showed  the  decided  southern  and  Provencal  tendencies  of 
this  king,  who  from  the  number,  variety,  and  beauty  of  his  songs 
was  himself  the  greatest  poet  of  his  time.  Educated  by  Aymeri* 
d'Ebrard  of  Cahors,  afterwards  bishop  of  Coimbra,  he  at  first  afl'ected 
the  mannerisms  of  the  decaying  school  of  Provence.  With  tha 
courts  of  Love  which  ho  introduced  came  the  Limousin  decasyllabio 
in  place  of  the  national  octosyllabic  metre,  and  tho  ancient  forma 
were  lost  in  the  intricacies  of  the  ritonrnelle.  This  king's  songs 
are  marked  by  an  exaggerated  subjectivism,  but  among  them  quaint 
and  graceful  "pastorellas  "  are  found,  full  of  poeMc  life  and  truth, 
which  show  that  tlie  king  was  not  blind  to,  the  beauty  of  his 
people's  lyrics.  Admiration  led  to  imitation,  and  the  close  of  his 
reign  is  marked  by  a  distinct  literary  revival  of  tho  national 
poetry,  which  at  his  hands  received  a  polish  it  had  somewhat 
lacked  before.  The  cfTccts  of  Diniz's  influence  pervade  the  whole 
of  Portuguese  poetry,  for  not  only  was  he  in  his  pastorellas  the 
forerunner  of  tlie  great  pastoral  school,  but  by  sanctifying  to 
literary  use  the  national  storehouse  of  song  he  perpetuated  among 
his  people,  even  to  tho  present  day,  lyric  forms  of  great  beauty. 
Dom  Diniz  completely  overshadows  the  poets  who  were  his  courtiers 
and  contemporaries,  but  amongst  them  tho  most  notable  wore 
Estevam  da  Guarda,  Ayras  Peres  Veyturon,  Ruy  Goni;alvcs,  JoSo 
Eanes,  and  Joao  de  Guilharda,  though  tho  last-named  was  rather 
a  musician  than  a  poet  Dom  Aflbuso  Siinches,  a  natural  son  of 
Dom  Dini;;,  wrote  partly  in  the  Limousin  and  partly  in  the  Oalician 
style,  and  another  son,  Dom  Pedro,  Conde  do  Barcellos,  who  com- 
piled a  "livrodas  cantigae  "  and  a  "nobilinrio"  or  peerage,  was  tho 
author  of  several  poems,  but  in  an  affected  strain,  which  marked 
tho  approaching  decay  of  lyric  poetry.  'WitJi  the  reign  of  Affonso 
IV.  (l.".25-1357)  began  tho  reaction  of  the  Castilian  language  against 
the  Portuguese,  but  tho  quahols  of  Ferdinand  (1367-1383)  with 
Henry  II.  of  Castilo  were  the  fortunate  cause  of  the  formation  of 
a  second  national  school.  For  amongst  its  founders  were  tho 
Galician  poets  who  took  rcfugo  at  tho  court  of  .Portugal,  and  who 
were  followers  of  Macias  and  P.adron,  including  Vasco  Pires  do 
CamScs,  ancestor  of  the  great  Luis,  while  to  this  jieriod  must  be 
properly  assigned  tho  poems  of  Egas  Moniz  Coelho  and  Goncalo 
Ilerminguoz. 

Epic  poetry  was  in  Portugal  as  in  Provenco  a  later  literary 
development  than  lyric.  The  pi.pular  aravias  must  have  been 
numerous,  to  judge  from  tho  remains  which  arc  still  found  in  the 
Azores  and  in  tho  ])rovinccs  of  Beira  and  Algarves ;  and  to  the 
18th  century  may  be  rofeired  tho  Loenda  dc  Santa  Iria  and  tho 
Cani;iio  do  Figueiral.     In  it.<  literary  form  the  Breton  "  lai "  was 


556 


PORTUGAL 


[liteeathbe. 


known  to  Dom  Pedro,  brother  of  Affonso  11.  (^211-1223)  and  a  ^w 
Boema  in  this  style  with  music  attached  were  written  by  him.  Ihe 
Zmnde  BnU  is  also  quoted  by  Dinu  but  't^was  through  he 
mVrriace  of  John  I.  with  Philippa  of  Lancaster  (1387)  that  a 
knoSe  of  the  Arthurian  cycle  spread  through  the  Peninsula 
and  led  to  ?he  popularity  of  the  Prophecies  of  Merlin  and  kindred 
works  down  to  tL  16th  century.  The  patriotic  pride  of  t^o  peop  , 
which  had  before  found  vent. in  the  aravias  or  tales  of  ^ntests 
m^th  the  Arabs,  sought  a  new  literary  expression  for  the  ns  ng 
^tional  greatness,  and  the  parent  of  Camoes's  great  epic  is  the 
pomTn\^ich  Affonso  Giraldes  celebrates  the  victo.7  won  by  the 
nni^d  armies  of  Portugal  and  Castile  over  the  Moors  at  the  battle 
of  the  sSo  1340).  Only  a  small  portion  is  extant,  but  it 
"hows^ontdtaSet^gour  ani  foreshadows  the  deveopment  which 
national  pride  was  afterwards  to  take  in  the  L^tsmds 

The  revolt  against  the  subjectivism  of  lyric  poetry  which  appeared 
in  the  narrativTspirit  of  the  epic  showed  itself  now  m  another  form, 
^nd  to  Affonso  I^.  belongs  the  credit  of  fully  appreciating  the  new 
tendencies      Acting  undSr  his  instructions,  Vasco  de  Lobeira  (d 

ap   ?   lustrat  d  by  works  whichT  although  in  Latin,  deserve  men 
tC      They  are  the  Concordanti^  iforalesj^nd  Mep>retatw3T I  Uat 
by  St  Antlfony  of  Lisbon  (1195-1231)  and  the  ^^"^  °fi;"/'''^} 
Svaro  Paes  (d.    1353).      The  most  learned  scnolar,  however    ol 
this  period  was   Pedri  Hispano,   who  became  Pope  John  XXI 
d.  1277)    and  whose  universal  learning  recaUed  the  days  of  the 

^?5*rcbt» -During  this  century  lyi'ic  poetry  was  under  the 
increasing  Sence  of  tie  Spanish  school  -d  of  i^  leaderjuan 
de  Mena  whose  praises  were  sung  in  some  couplets  by  tlie  nlante 
nnm  Pedro  son  of  John  L  .The  chief  imitators  of  this  style  were 
Euh  de  A^'evodo  Ayres  Telles  (d.  1515),  and  Diogo  Brandao  d. 
1630)  'Se  Arthurian  romances  of  Dam  Eurivcs  and  f^nca-F^ 
mav  e  referred  to  this  century;  and  the  poems  on  the  death  of  the 
tafan  e  Dom  Pedro  by  Luis  de  Azevcdo,  and  on  the  death  of  John 
il  by  Dio"  Brandao  exhibit  the  literary  form  of  the  epic  The 
constable  son  of  Dom  Pedro,  felt  the  inSuence  of  the  Italian 
Renatsance  and  consequently  became  the  founder  of  the  Dantesque 
or  algoi-cll  school.  ^His  SaUjra  dafelicc  ''■--fi'^^^ J^f^^^^^^ 
aUegorfcal  piece  of  some  merit,  but  a  better  spee^'J^en  ofthis  sty  e 
L  the  Fisdo  by  Duarte  de  Brito,  a  compound  of  theEovuin  dela 
Vse^niLmvina  Coyimcdia.  The  Fingimenlo  de  Amo-e  by 
Fernao  Brandao  also  possesses  many  beauties 

The  principal  prose  works  of  the  time  are  the  Bool  oj  the  tlm^e 
written  fOT  John  I  (1383-H33),  thevividand  interesting  CAr«uc/es 
TFernlo  Lopes  (1380.1459)  the  Froissart  of  Portugal  and  he 
Chronicles  of  Gomes  Eanes  de  Azurara  (d.  1473),  Ruy  de  nna 
a440  1520°  and  Duarte  Galvao  (1445-1517).,  King  Edward  him- 
self (1433-1438)  was  the  author  of  TU  Faithful  Councillor  -^i 
t.U-uctL  iJ  Horsemanship  while  a  f  ^/'«^, »»  ^«t^^%Tsi 
sBver.il  other  works  showed  the  powers  of  Affonso  V.  (1438-14M) 
"^a  general  Lthematician  and  natural  phi  osopher,  the  cuW^^^^^ 
of  which  may  have  been  in  part  due  to  the  lessons  learned  from  the 
nironmdia  translated  for  him  by  Vasco  de  Lucena. 
""^Xar/i^A  C7a..«n-...-ThigoWen  age  of  Portu^iese  hte^^^^ 

had  now  arrived,  and  to  Bernardim  Kibeiro  (c.  1500)  is  due  tne 
honouHf  founding  its  characteristic  school  of  romantic  pastoral 
«oetrv      The  rive?3  and   mountains   of  his   native  land  are  the 
rturai  framework  of  a  poefs  fancy,  and  the  revival  of  classical 
Wrn?n.  showed  him  in  the  Eclogues  of  Virgil  a  model  which  he 
i^s  not  slow  to  imitate.     His  Eclogues,  written  in  '  redondilhas 
rctosvllabic  nine  or  ten-lined  stanzas),  are  accordingly  the  earliest 
Kodern  Europe,  and,  while  replete  with  the  charms  and  conceits 
S  v^?sTficatTon  oFthe  triubadours',  show  a  truly  poetic  lovco  nature. 
He  'vas  also  the  miter  of  the  first  "  sextinas  "in  redondilhas,  and  of 
manv^eautiful  cantigas  and  elegies.     To  the  same  school,  which 
was  Lw  the  represent'ative  of  aU  national  f-li"g- ^fjof  Kibd™ 
Falcao,  whose  smaller  poems  are  quite  equal  to  those  ot  Kibeiro 
Garcia  de  Resende  (1470-1554),  compUer  of  the  Caneioneiro  Oeral, 
a  magnificent  collection  of  poems  by  almost  three  hundred  winte^, 
be<nnning  with  Affonso  Henriques,  Gil  Vicente  (1470-1536),  Jorge 
Fefreira^de  Vasconcellos   (d.   1585)    and  Fernao  Rodrigues  Lobo 
Soropita  {c.  1600).     The  last-named  is  eh.efly  known  from  three 
comic  satires  on  the  classical  school  and  ^'^ /«{'"''" fZ'Tcl 
poems  of  Camoens,  which  formed  the  basis  of  Faria  e  Sousa  s  C«m- 
inentarv      Except  for  the  fact  that  a  master-mind  belongs  to  no 
Xol'camoens' himself  might  be.  claimed  by  these  -iters  as  a 
fellow-worker,  for  he  was  systematicaUy  either  ignored  or  abused 
by  the  opposing  school  of  classicists.     His  works  are  treated  of  at 
kngth  elsewhefe  (see  Cmoens).  but  it   s  not  out  of  P  ^^^  to  r  mark 
herl  that  his  beauties  are  those  of  the  national  school  and  h  s 
defects  the  result  of  an  imitation  of  the  classicisms  affected  by  his 


opponents.     These  were  the  followers  of  the  school  founded  by 
Francisco  de  Si  de  Miranda  (1495-1558)  on  his  return  from  Ita  y, 
where  he  acquired  a  love  not  only  for  the  Renaissance,  whose  in- 
fluence had  been  already  felt  by  Ribeiro,  but  for  the  forms  1.1  which 
the  new  culture  found  expression.     Much  praise  i^^ue  to  lum  loi 
the  polish  he  gave  to  his  country's  1  terature,  but  by  hi3  classical 
affectations  and  the  favour  he  showed  to  the  Spanish  language   m 
which  his  best  works  were  written,  he  sowed  the  seeds  of  that 
decay  which  afterwards  overtook  Portuguese  poetry.     The  eclogues, 
epistles,  odes,  elegies,  ^nd  sonnets  of  this  school  are  often  perfect 
ii  form  and  contain  much  real  poetry,  but  the  classicisms  ^hich 
at  first  are  graceful  in  their  novelty  weary  in  the  end  by  their 
unreality,  and  in  the  hands  of  inferior  artists  degenerate  into  mere 
sta<.e  properties,  used  to  conceal  the  want  of  genius.    The  shepherds 
and   shepherdesses  are  no   longer   the  idealized   peasants  of  the 
troubadours  but  courtiers  in  masquerade,   and  the  sense  of  this 
lowering  of  the  ideal  is  sufficient  to  destroy  the  pleasure  which 
would  othermse  be  derived  from 'the  polished  language  and  poeUo 
imagination.     The  imitators  of  Miranda  were  very  numerous  ;  th» 
chiel-  among  them  were  Antonio  de  Ferreira  (1528-1569),  ^^I'O  was 
Horatian  r?ther  than  Virgilian  in  feeling,  and  consequently  pro- 
duced but  inferior  eclogues,  while  his  didactic  epistles  were  tha 
earliest  Portuguese  examples  of  that  style,  Diogo  Bernardes  (d.  1599), 
vhose  sacred%ongs  are  particularly  good     '^^ro  de  Andrade  da 
Caminha(d.  1589),  Fernao  Alvares  do  Oriente  (b.  1540),  Don  Manuel 
de  Portugal  (d.  1606),  and  Estevao  Rodngues  de  Castro  (1559-163/ )• 
Among  the  iVic  poets  of  the  17th  century  the  chief  of  those  who 
by  their  satirical  and  comic  verses  showed  an  inclination  to  the 
national  rather  than  the  classical  school  were  Thomas  de  Noronhi 
M  1651)  and  Jacinto  Freire  de  Andrade  (1597-1657),  author  of  the 
FabulaJde  Narci^o  and  of  various  songs  and  sonnets  published 
in  the  Fenix  Senascida  (1716-1728).   /°t°r -P^^rfnllowed^ 
(1610-1663)  was  the  first  miter  of  "saudades,    and  was  follo^^ed  in 
the  same  syle  by  Simao  Torrezao  Coelho  (d.  1642).     Sonne  s  wers 
of  course  mitten  by  every  man  of  culture,  but  they  rarely  rosa 
above  the  standard  of  mediocrity.     Those  of  Manuel  de  Fana  e 
Sousa  (1590-1649),  Duarte  Ribeiro  de  Macedo  (1618-1680)    and 
Andre  Nunes  da  Sylva  (1630-1705)  may,  however    be  reckoned 
Tmong  the  best.     The  sacred  poems  of  the  last-named  are  also  very 
good,  but  are  surpassed  by  the  Jardim  do  ^^«  ^y  Eloi  de  Sa  Soto- 

^^^^r^tiSTlSi^^^rpi^al  during  this  pei.od  naturally  E^c,- 
demanded  to  be  sung  in  a  fitting  stram,  and  the  16th  and  l'"'  16th  a 
ceTturfes  were  consequently  the  era  of  epic  poems     J^ie  earliest  of   Tttc. 
these  was  the  Crea<;do  do  Homem  by  Andre  Falcao  de  Resende  (d  tunes. 
1598),  which  from  its  similarity  in  style  has  been  often  attribued 
to  Camoens  (1524-1579),  whose  Lusiads  appeared  m  1572.    Though 
the  sole  masterpiece  of  the  country  and  the  age,  this  last  not 
unworthily  eclipses  other  epics  in  which  the  brilliant  passages  are 
moTe  or  less  numerous.     Such  are  the  Prmciro  Cerco  deDm  by 
FrancUcode  Andrade  (1540-1614),  the  ^--fr'tJfjTX) 
and  the  Scgundo  Gereo  de  Diu  hy  Jeronymo  Corte  Real  (15"jl-^93) 
both  rather  above  the  average,  the  Elegiada.  (1588)  by  Luis  1  ereira 
Brandao     the   Affo,uo   Africano  (1611)   by   Vasco   Mous.nho   da 
Qiebedo'.  wlio  shies  with  C6rte-Real  the  honour  of  ranking  next 
after  Camoens.  the  Ulyss6a\>y  Gabriel  Pereira  de  Cas  ro  (157L1632) 
the  Viriato  Tragico  by  Braz  Garcia  Mascarenhas    1596-1656  ,  the 
Malaca  Conquistada  by  Francisco  de  Sa  de^Menezes  (d   1664X    he 
mvssivo  bv  Antonio  de  Souza  de  Macedo   (1606-1682),  and  tne 
V^slZAcBespanha  (1671)  by  Andre  da  ^H^a  MascarenJ^^as 

The  drama  in  Portugal  was  stifled  m  its  birth.     The  miracle,  urwi 

plavs  of  the  people  attained  a  high  degree  of  excellence  in  the 

KlloT"  or  sa?rel  Christmas  plays  of  Gil  Vicente  (H70-1  36),  but 

this  writer  was  bom  half  a  century  too  soon  for  Ins  wo  k.     His 

comedies,  of  which  the  best  is  InezPerexra,  are  full  of  the  rough 

wTwhich  is  found  in  the  early  Latin  wTiters,  but  show  a  want  of 

polish  and  dramatic  conception  which  is  fatal    0  their  claims  to 

Ch  rank  as  works  of  art."^  The  comedies  of  h.s  contemporaries 

\ntonio  Prestes    Jorge  Pinto,  and  Jeronymo  Ribeiro  Soares,  all 

fhow    on"b  e  tafent,  and' the  Eufrosina  of  Jorge  Ferreira  do 

Vas'on^ellos  (d.  1585)  most  nearly  approaches  to  a  modem  s  anda  d 

of  excellence.     Francisco  Manuel  de  Mello  (1611-1666)  ^^  as  tne 

a  ithor   n  Portuguese  of  the  Auto  do  FidalgoAprcndiz^,  well  as 

of  severa"  poemsrbut  most  of  his  works  are  in  the  Sp.anish  language. 

AnionJ  the  cUs  icists  Miranda  was  the  author  of  the  comedies  Os 

m°Xiros  and  Os   Filkalpandos,  but  his  Plays  are  'nf  "o    to 

those  of  Ferreira,  whose  dramatic  works  are  m  some  respects  superior 

to  his  poems      The  chief  of  them,  which  was  produced  only  a  few 

vears  la?er  than  the  Sophonisba  of  Trissino,  is  the  tragedy  Inezd> 

ra.7™    but    though  Ins  subject  was  so  fine,   h.s  treatment  of  it 

w"     nk  altogethe^r  .satisfactory.     There  are  also  several  playsb^ 

Camions     but  the  influence  of  the  Spanish  language  was  by  this 

time    rresistMe,  and  the  result  Was  that  all  serious  dramas  wore 

wHtten  in  Cast  lian,  whUe  Portuguese  was  reserved  only  for  the 

"h ter  and  more  popular  pieces,  the  be.t  of  which  were  coHectea 


WTERVirRE.] 


P  O  II  T  U  G  A  L 


557 


by  CocUio  Rebello  in  A  Musa  enlretenida  dc  vai-ios  Entrcmcscs 
(Coimbra,  1658). 

lu  prose  the  imitations  o{  Amadis  gf  Gaul  were  followed  by  the 
school  of  the  Palmeirims,  which  originated  iu  the  romance  of 
chivalry  Pahneirim  d' Inglaterra.  The  first  and  second  parts  of  this 
work  were  probably  by  the  Spaniard  Hurtado,  and  were  only  trans- 
lated by  Francisco  de  Moraes  (d.  1572)  ;  the  tliird  and  fourth  parts 
were  written  by  Dio^o  Fernandcs  {c.  15S0),  and  the  fifth  and  sixth 
by  Baltliasar  Gon9alves  Lobato  {c.  1600).  But  Moraes,  though 
thus  missin»  the  honour  of  being  an  originator,  was  probably  the 
author  of  the  scarcely  less  celebrated  Palmeirim  de  Oliva.  The 
Hvro  de  Cavallaria  by  Fernao  Lopes  da  Castanheda  (d.  1559),  the 
Chronica  do  Empcrador  Clarimundo  by  Joao  de  Barros  (1496-1570), 
several  works  by  Francisco  Eodrigues  Lobo  [c.  1600),  and  the 
Chronica  do  famoSo  Priticipc  D.  Clarisol  de  Brelanha  (1602)  by  B. 
G.  Lobato  are  of  a  similar  character.  The  pastoral  novel  originated 
in  the  Menina  e  ilocfl  by  Bernardim  Ribeiro,  a  composition  in  prose 
and  verse  which  gave  rise  through  its  imitation  in  Spanish  by  Jorge 
de  Monte  Mor  (d.  1561)  to  the  school  of  the  Dianas.  This  style 
was  in  its  turn  imitated  in  Portuguese  by  Fernao  Alvares  do  Oriente 
(b.  1540)  in  the  iitsiVa/iids  Transformada,  and  among  other  examples 
maybe  noted  the  Ribciras  do  Mondego  (1623)  by  Eloi  de  Sa  Sotomaior, 
and  the  Pi-imavera,  0  Pastor  Pcrcjrino,  and  0  Descmjanado  (1601) 
by  F.  R.  Lobo.  The  last-named  was  also  the  author  of  the  more 
meritorious  C6rte  na  Ald4a,  a  sort  of  Fricrids  in  Council,  which  was 
afterwards  imitated  in  the  Serdo  politico  by  Felix  da  Costanheira 
Turacem,  the  nom-de-plume  of  Lucas  de  St  Catherina  (1660-1740). 
To  the  pastoral  novel  succeed  ed  the  allegories,  of  which  Grand  Cyprus, 
Clelia,  and  Astrea  are  the  best  examples.  The  Inquisition,  how- 
ever, laid  its  ban  upon  them  when  they  showed  mystical  tendencies, 
as  iu  tlie  P4  de  Rosa  Fragrante,  Cerva  Branca,  &c. ;  but  an  adapta- 
tion of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  was  published  by  the  inquisitor 
Alexandre  de  Gusmao  (1629-1724),  with  a  view  to  proving  the 
efficacy  of  infant  baptism,  which  was  certainly  not  the  intention  of 
Bunyan.  The  Decameronic  tales  took  the  form  in  this  period  of 
the  Contos  e  Historias  de  Provcito  e  Excmplo  (1589)  by  Gon^alo 
Femandes  Trancoso,  the  Inforlimios  tragicos  da  constante  Florinda 
fl625)  by  Caspar  Fires  de  Rebello,  and  the  Allivio  de  Tristes  (1672), 
Retiro  de  Cuidados  (16S1),  and  Roda  da  Fortuim (1692)  by  Mattheus 
Ribeiro.  The  pride  in  tlie  national  greatness  which  found  poetical 
expression  in  the  epic  also  caused  the  rise  of  a  great  scnool  of 
historians.  The  older  royal  chroniclers  were  followed  by  Garcia  de 
Resende  (1470-1554),  Christovao  Rodrigues  Acenheiro  (b.  1474), 
and  Damiao  de  Goes  (1501-1573).  Their  chronicles  are  graphic  and 
interesting,  though  inferior  in  style  to  the  works  of  their  successor, 
who  was  the  most  brilliant  early  historian  Portugal  can  boast. 
This  was  Joao  de  Barros  (1496-1570),  author  of  the  Conquest  of  the 
Indies,  %vhich  was  afterwards  continued  in  the  Asia  Portugucza  by 
Manuel  de  Faria  e  Sousa  (1590-1649),  a  learned  and  facile  writer, 
from  whose  pen  are  also  the  Eurojm,  Africa,  ani  America  Portugucza, 
a  Commentary  on  Caraoens,  and  numerous  other  works.  The  stylo 
of  Barros  is  both  elegant  and  energetic,  and  the  criticism  and 
accuracy  which  ho  displays  make  him  still  an  authority  of  the  first 
rank.  The  next  greatest  historian  after  Barros  was  the  monk 
Bernardo  do  Brito  (1569-1G17),  author  of  Monarchia  Lusilana,  of 
which  there  is  a  continuation  by  Antonio  Brandao  (1584-1637),  and 
of  the  Chronicles  of  the  Cistercians  and  of  D.  Schastido.  The  elegant 
Latinist  aud  best  nntiquaiy  of  the  16th  century,  Andre  de  Resende 
(1498-1573),  whoso  talents  were  recognized  by  Erasmus,  produced  the 
De  antiquitatibus  Lusitanite  and  the  Life  of  the  Infante  D.  Duarte  ; 
and  tlio  History  of  tlie  Discovery  and  Conquest  of  India  by  Fernao 
Lopes  dc  Castanheda  (d.  1559),  the  Chronicles  of  D.  Schastido  by 
Bernardo  da  Cruz  (1530-1586)  and  by  Jlanuel  de  Menczes  (d.  1628), 
the  Life  of  D.  Joao  do  Castro  by  Jacinto  Freire  de  Andrado  (1597- 
1657),  which  is  still  the  type  of  perfect  biography,  fha .Chronicles  of 
Scanderbeg  and  D.  John  III.  by  Francisco  de  Andrade  (1540-1614), 
the  Commentaries  of  Affonso  d'^/Wtj^iwrjKC  (1500-1580),  compiled  by 
his  son,  and  the  works  of  Diogo  do  Couto  (154g-1016)  and  Duarte 
Nuncs  do  Leao  (d.  1603)  supply  a  mass  of  interesting  historical 
material.  To  Antonio  Barbosa  BaccUar  (1610-1663)  is  duo  an 
account  of  the  Siege  and  Capture  of  Recife  ;  and  tho  True  Account 
of  Prcstcr  John  (1540)  by  Francisco  Alvares,  the  Travels  in  Cliina," 
Tartary,  &c.,  of  Fernao  Mendcs  Pinto  (1509-1580),  and  in  Persia 
(1610)  of  Pedro  Tcixeira,  tlie  account  of  tho  Mission  of  Aleixo  de 
MeneiCi  'to  the  Christians  of  S.  Thomas  by  Antonio  do  Gouvea 
(d.  1628),  and  tho  Ifistory  of  Tangier  by  Fernando  do  Mcnezcs 
(1614-1699)  are  all  classical  works  and  full  of  interest.  Among 
religious  works  may  be  mentioned  those  of  Diogo  do  Paiva  do 
Andrado  (1528-1575)  and  of  Diogo  do  Gouvea  (d.  1576),  tho  Com- 
mentaries of  the  Hebrew  scholar  Jtronymo  de  Azanibuja  (1 520-1565), 
tho  Life  of  S.  Francis  Xavicr  by  Joilo  dc  Luccna  (1550-1600),  the 
Commmtaries  on.  the  Minor  Prophets  by  Bernardo  de  Brito  (1569- 
l'>17),  tho  IJres  of  S.  Dominic  and  other  saints  by  Luis  de  Sousa 
(1555-1632),  the  Agiologio  Lusitano  by  Jorge  Card.iso  (1616  1669), 
tho  Sermons  of  the  great  preachers  Caspar  Pmv".  do  Rebello  (c.  1625) 
and  Antonio  Vicira  (1603-1607),  the  Clavis  Prophctantm  of  the 
Inst-named,  and  ibe  works  of  B.ntholomeu  do  Ouentiil  (16?6-1698). 


founder  of  the  Portuguese  branch  of  the  Oratorians.  The  scientific 
writers  of  the  period  are  not  numerous,  bei.ig  represented  chieHy  by 
the  cosmographer  Pedro  Nunes  (1492-1577),  one  of  tho  greatest  ma- 
thematicians of  his  time,  Estevao  Rodrigues  de  Castro  (1559-1637), 
author  of  a  Commentary  on  Hippocrates  and  various  other  medical 
works,  and  the  astronomer  Manuel  Boccarro  Franctz  (1588-1662). 

ISlh  Century.— Durmg  the  preceding  century  there  had  been 
founded  in  imitation  of  the  Italians  numerous  "  arcadias  "  or  literary 
clubs  under  fantastic  titles,  such  as  "  Ambieutes,"  "  Solitaries,"  &c. 
Their  influence  was  insignificant,  and  their  existence  would  call  for 
r\o  remark  were  they  not  the  forerunners  of  the  academies,  which 
during  the  18th  century  saved  Portuguese  literature  from  total 
extinction.  In  the  year  1714  was  founded  the  Lisbon  Royal 
Academy  of  Sciences,  which  was  succeeded  by  the  Portuguese 
Academy,  whose  first  president  was  the  learned  historian  Francisco 
Xavier  de  Menezes,  count. of  Ericeira  (1673-1743),  author  of  tho 
epic  Henriqucida.  His  numerous  translations  of  the  works  of 
Boileau  and  other  French  -writers  had  considerable  influence  on 
Portuguese  literature,  and  the  founding  in  1757  of  the  "Arcadia  do 
LisbOa,"  in  which  the  great  minister  the  marquis  of  Pombal  was 
supreme,  led  to  a  wider  spread  of  the  teachings  of  the  Encyclo- 
pa;dists.  The  arcadia  ceased  to  exist  in  1774,  but  was  followed  in 
1779  by  the  Royal  Academy  of  Sciences,  founded  by  the  duke  of 
Lafoes,  and  by  the  "Kova  Arcadia,"  which  flourished  between  1790 
and  1806.  As  regards  poetry  these  academies  were  little  more  than 
manufactories  of  verse,  the  only  lyric  poets  of  the  early  part  of  the 
century  being  Thomas  Pinto  Brandao  (1664-1743)  and  Antonio  do 
Lima  Barros  Pereira  (b.  1687) ;  but  their  membeos,  though  wantine 
in  poetical  originality,  showed  considerable  industry  in  historical 
research.  The  Bibliotheca  Lusiiana  by  Diogo  Barbosa  JIacbado 
(1682-1772)  is  a  complete  biographical  dictionary  of  the  Peninsula, 
and  the  Life  of  the  Infante  D.  Henrique  by  Francisco  Jose  Freire 
(1719-1773)  and  the  General  History  of  Portugal  by  Damiao  Antonio 
de  Lemos  (1715-1789)  are  standard  works,  while  the  Mcmorias  de 
Litteratura  of  the  Royal  Academy  of  Sciences  contains  much  infor- 
mation about  the  literature  of  the  16th  and  17th  centuries.  But 
the  real  founder  of  scientific  history  in  Portugal,  as  opposed  to  mere 
collections  of  legends  and  traditions,  was  Joiio  Pedro  Ribeiro  (1769- 
1839),  whose  Researches  in  Portuguese  Chronology  show  an  historical 
scepticism  far  in  advance  of  his  age.  To  the  same  group  of  workers 
for  the  academy  in  the  historical  department  belong  Francisco  de  St 
Luis,  cardinal-archbishop  of  Lisbon  (1766-1845),  Francisco  Manuel 
Trigoso  (1777-1838),  and  Jose  Francisco  Corr§a  da  Serra  (1750-1823), 
who  edited  tho  Early  Portuguese  Chronicles. '  In  the  latter  half  of 
this  century  a  revival  in  poetry  also  took  place,  and  the  works  of 
Antonio  Diniz  da  Cruz  e  Silva  (1731-1800),  author  of  Hyssope, 
aciiuired  for  him  the  title  of  the  Portuguese  Boileau.  'With  him 
were  associated  Pedro  Antonio  Correa  Gari;ao  (1724-1772),  author 
of  the  comedy  Asscmblca  and  the  Cantata  de  Dido,  Domingos  do3 
Reis  Quita  (1728-1770),  the  hes\  pastoral  poet  of  the  period,  and  the 
Brazilian  Claudio  Manuel  da  Cosla  (1729-1789).  But  to  Francisco 
Manuel  do 'Nascimento  (1734-1819),  who  wrote  under  the  nom-de- 
plume  of  Filinto  Elysio,  must  be  assigned  the  honour  of  being  tho 
reviver  of  letters  in  Portugal,  not  only  by  his  elegant  lyric  poems 
but  more  especially  by  his  miscellaneous  writings  and  by  his 
opposition  to  loreign  imitations.  His  school  of  "  Filintists  "  found 
rivals  in  tho  "Elmanists"  led  by  Manuel  Maria  do  Barbosa  du 
Bocage  (1766-lSOG),  whd,  though  less  driginal  than  Nascimento, 
had  perhaps  greater  influence.  His  poetical  works  are  numerous, 
and  no  was,  besides,  tho  author  of  three  tragedies,  Viriatus,  Affonso 
Henriqucs,  and  Vaseo  dc  Gama,  which  had  some  success.  The  poems 
of  Antonio  Ribeiro  dos  Sanctos  (1745-1818),  the  satires  of  Nicolau 
Tolontino  do  Almeida  (1741-1811),  and  the  sonnets  of  Paulino 
Antonio  Cabr.al  de  Vasconccllos  (b.  1720)  aro  all  reckoned  among 
tho  good  work  of  tho  18th  century.  But  the  best  as  well  as  the 
last  work  of  this  school  is  tho  epic  Oriente  (1814)  by  Jose  Agostinho 
do  Maccdo  (1761-1831),  whose  contemporary,  Joso  Anastasio  da 
Cunha,  was  condemned  by  tho  Inquisition  for  the  heresy  contained 
in  his  Ora^do  Universal.  The  tragedies  Osmia,  by  Catharina  do 
Sousa,  countess  of  Vimieiro  (1749-1824),  and  Nova  Castro,  by  Joao 
Baptista  Gomes  (d.  1803),  call  for  especial  notice,  as  do  tho  vaude- 
villes Don  Quixote  and  Esopaida  by  Antonio  Jose  da  Silva  (1705- 
1739),  while  the  nation,al  tasto  further  showed  itself  in  the  favourable 
reception  given  to  the  comedies  of  his  successor,  Alexandre  Autoni 
do  Lima  (b.  1699). 

Wth  Century. — The  political  troubles  of  1820  led  to  tho  cxpatria- 
tion'of  Joao  Baptista  do  Almeida  Garrett  (Jonio  Durii-nso)  (1799- 
1854)  and  Alexandre  Herculano  (1810-1879),  and  tho  retreat  to  a 
monastery  of  Antonio  Feliciano  de  Castilho  (Memnido  Egyncnse 
(1800-1875).  Tho  (irst  two  were  followers  of  Nascimento,  tho  last 
of  Bocage;  but,  while  the  enforced  studies  of  Castilho  only  increased 
his  classicist  prnclivitiop,  tho  exile  of  Garrett  and  Herculano  brought 
them  into  contact  with  romanticism.  The  elTects  aro  seen  in 
Garrett's  D.  Branca,  Joao  Minima,  and  Florcs  sem  Fructo,  and 
later  on  in  his  most  famous  work,  tho  Folhas  Cahidas.  R.  A.  dc 
Bulhilo  I'ato,  F.  Gomes  do  Aniorim,  and  E.  Vidal  have  also  wTitten 
in  the  snme  style,  but  their  poems  have  a  lo.ss  truthful  ring  than 


558 


P  0  R  — P  O  S 


those  of  Garrett,  who  is  also  the  author  of  both  the  earliest  and 
the  test  examples  of  the  modern  Portuguese  drama,  Gil  Vicente, 
Alfagcmc,  and  Luis  de  Soiisa.  The  principal  works  of  Castilho  are 
A  Priinaicra,  Amor  e  Melancolia,  and  Excava(;6cs  Poeticas ;  and  the 
writers  who  may  chiefly  be  claimed  as  his  followers  are  Sarmento,  J. 
M.  de  Costa  e  Silva  the  dramatist,  Cabral  de  Mello,  and  Fernandes 
Le'itao.  The  publication  in  1848  of  0  Trovador,  a  collection  of 
modern  lyrics,  marks  the  foundation  of  the  school  of  Coimbva.  Its 
leader,  Joao  de  Lemos,  the  lyric  poet,  found  fellow-workers  in  Jose 
Freire  de  Serpa,  the  impressionable  author  of  Solaos,  and  Jose  da 
Silra  Mendes  Leal,  author  of  the  dramas  A  Alva  Estrdla,  A  Madrc 
Silva,  and  Os  Hmnens  de  Marmore,  and  various  lyric  poems.  The 
most  popular  modern  poet  Luis  Augusto  Palmeirim,  the  dramatist 
A.  Pereira  da  Cunha,  Antonio  de  Serpa,  and  Joao  de  Audrade  Corvo, 
author  of  the  novel  Urn  Anno  da  C6rte,  all  belong  to  this  school,  the 
prevailing  characteristic  of  which  at  its  foundation  was  a  profound 
admiration  for  Chateaubriand  and  hisroyalist  and  religious  opinions. 
The  second  phase  of  this  school  dates  from  the  ^'ovo  Trovador,  in 
which  the  influence  of  Aime  Martin  and  Krause  on  its  originator 
Soares  de  Passes  is  plainly  visible.  The  poems  of  Passes  are  tinged 
with  a  melancholy  which  presaged  his  early  death,  and  he  phUoso- 
■ohizes  in  the  Finnamcnto,  the  Escravo,  and  the  Morte  de  Socrates 
somewhat  in  the  same  strain  aS  the  English  Lake  poets.  The  third 
phase  of  the  school  of  Coimbra  is  represented  by  the  Flares  do  Campo 
and  Folhas  Sottas  of  Joao  de  Deus,  the  poet  of  love  and  revolution. 
Of  the  same  school  the  Visdo  dos  Tempos  by  Theophilo  Braga  is  an 
attempt  at  a  new  revelation,  and  the  Odes  Modernas  by  Anthero  do 
Quental  are  socialistic,  but  both  writers  show  more  than  ordinary 
power.  Other  modem  poets  are  Alberto  Telles,  Sousa  Yiterbo, 
Candido  de  Figueiredo,  Gomes  Leal,  Thomas  Ribeiro,  A.  J.  Viale, 
and  Guilherme  de  Azcvedo.  The  plays  of  C.  C.  Branco  and  Ernesto 
Blester  are  above  the  average,  and  King  Luis  has  worthily  followed 
the  traditions  of  his  race  in  his  translations  of  the  plays  of  Shake- 
speare. The  historical  novels  of  Herculauo  are  much  admired  by 
his  countrymen,  as  well  as  those  of  L.  A.  Rebello  da  Silva  ;  and 
the  works  of  J.  G.  Gomes  Coelho  (Julio  Diniz),  A.  de  Oliveira 
JIarreca,  Mendes  Leal,  Bernardim  Eibeiro,  Arnal  do  Gama, 
Teixeira  de  Vasconcellos,  and  Camillo  Castello  Branco,  with  his 
accuracy  of  description,  have  some  reputation  ;w-i)ut  the  best 
modern  novel,  judged  by  an  English  standard,  is  0  Crime  do  Padre 
Amaro  by  E^a  de  Queiroz.  As  the  growth  of  Portuguese  inde- 
pendence was  coeval  with  the  work  of  the  troubadours,  and  thS 
discoveries  and  conquests  of  the  heroic  age  gave  birth  to  the  epic 
of  Camoens,  so,  in  like  manner, 'the  political ,  revival  of  the  19th 
century  has  given  rise  to  a  school  of  great  historians,  the  chief 
of  whom  was  Alexandre  Herculano.  The  exile  of  Herculano  had 
brought  him  into  contact  with  both  English  and  French  roman- 
ticism, as  appears  in  his  early  poems  and  his  historical  novels, 
in  which  the  influence  of  Lamartine  and  Scott  is  plainly  visible, 
but  in  later  life  he  was  attracted  to  the  new  German  school  of 
historians  founded  by  Ranke,  and  perceived  that  his  true  vocation 
was  scientiflc  history.     His  chief  work  has  been  the  disentangle- 


ment of  the  early  history  of  Portugal  from  the  mass  of  legends 
which  had  clustered  round  it,  and  hii  History  of  Portugal  and  The 
Origin  of  the  Inquisition  in  Portugal  are  lasting  monuments  of 
industry  and  criticism.  But  Herculano  perceived  that,  before  a 
true  knowledge  could  be  gained  of  Portuguese  history,  a  critical 
study  must  be  made  of  early  documents,  so,  using  his  official  position, 
he  commenced  the  publication  for  the  academy  of  a  magnificent 
edition  of  the  Origines  of  Portuguese  history.  The  viscount  of 
Sautarem  began  a  similar  work  in  his  collections  of  Fadera,  though 
his  fame  will  rest  rather  on  his  researches  into  the  history  of  the 
great  maritime  discoveries  of  the  15th  and  16th  centuries.  L.  A. 
Rebello  da  Silva  continued  the  work  of  Santarem  in  the  publica- 
tion of  the  Corpo  Dij)lomatico,  and  his  History  of  Portugal  in  the 
17th  and  ISth  Centuries  is  only  inferior  to  the  great  work  of 
Herculano.  These  historians  inspired  many  others,  among  whom 
may  be  mentioned  Fonseca  Benevides,  F.  F.  de  la  Figanierc,  Claudio 
de  Chaby,  and  Simao  Jose  da  Luz  Soriano.  The  strength  of  this 
school  is  no  doubt  partly  due  to  the  extreme  vigour  of  the  reaction- 
aries who  were  first  called  into  existence  by  Herculaijo's  attacks  on 
superstitious  legends.  Their  work  is  brilliant  if  not  convincing, 
and  it  would  not  therefore  be  right  to  pass  over  without  mention 
such  names  as  F.  Recreio,  Pinheivo  Chagas,  and  Alfonso  Eunes. 
In  general  literature  the  name  of  Francisco  Alexandre  Lobo  (1763- 
1844)  stands  out  prominently  as  the  foremost  man  of  the  century, 
and  the  Portuguese  equal  of  De  Maisti;e,  whilst  Thomas  de  Car- 
valho,  Rodrigo  da  Fonseca,  Cesar  ilachado.  Lopes  de  ilendomja, 
F.  Adolpho  Coelho,  Theophilo  Braga,  lunocencio  Francisco  da  Silva, 
and  F.  D.  Vieira  have  all  won  a  position  as  critics  and  essayists. 
Political  liberty  has  gone  hand  in  hand  with  the  freedom  of  the 
press,  and  here  again  Herculano  appears  as  the  founder  of  the 
Panorama,  in  which  he  had  the  assistance  of  most  of  the  writers 
above-mentioned.  Besides  these  the  most  influential  journalists 
are  Teixeira  de  Vasconcellos,  Eodrigues  de  Sampaio,  and  J.  M. 
Latino  Coelho.  '  AVhile  the  press  remains  free  and  can  boast  of 
such  writers  Portuguese  literature  will  certainly  increase  in 
strength  and  vigour,  and  maintain  the  feeling  of  national  pride 
and  independence  which  appears  so  strongly  in  the  works  of 
Garrett  and  Herculano,  and  will  always  prevent  a  union  with  . 
Spain. 

BiWiogTaphy.—Tor  the  general  history  of  Portupuese  literature,  Bouterwek, 
Hist,  of  Span,  and  Port.  LiUmture  (London,  1S26) ;  Sismondi,  Hist,  of  the  Lilcnt- 
f.ire  of  the  South  o/£urop€  (London,  1823);  and  J.  F.Denis,  Kisumi  deVhisl.  Ufl. 
de  Portugal  (Paris,  1826)  may  be  consulted  ;  also  the  "  Notice  on  Literature  '  by 
Theo.  Braga,  in  vol.  i.  of  Vieiras  GrandeMiccionario  (O^ovto,  1871),  and  the  same 
■OTiter's  Introductions  to  the  Antolooia  Portuijueza  (Oporto,  1870)  and  the 
Farnaso  PoTiuguez  Moderno  (Lisbon,  1877).  For  the  troubadour  period,  see  the 
Introductions  to  Troias  e  Cantares.  ei.  Varnhagen  (JIadnd,  1S4<>),  and  the 
Candonein  Portvguez,  ed.  Braga  (Lisbon,  1878).  The  Htmorius  of  the  .icademy 
and  the  Introduction  to  the  Parnaso  iiisifuno  (Paris,  1S26)  may  be  consullecl 
for  the  classical  period  ;  and  the  iltmorias  de  Lilt,  contemijoranm  by  A.  P.  Lopps 
de  Mendonca  (Lisbon,  1SJ5)  and  La  LUlirature  Porlugaise  by  J.  M.  Pf leira  <\a 
Silva  (Rio,  1S66)  give  a  fair  account  of  contemporaneous  literature.  The  \K-,t 
bioin-aBhical  dictionaries  are  the  BiUiotlieca  LusUamt  by  Machado  (Lisbon, 
1741)  and  the  Diccionario  BHUcgrathica  Podvgiiez  by  Innoceucio  F.  da  Siha 


(Lisbon,  1S58). 


(H.  B.  B.) 


PORUS,  tlie  name  of  the  Indian  king -svlio  withstood 
Alexander  the  Great  on  the  banks  of  the  Hydaspes 
(Jhelum).  Ho  was  afterwards  ^confirmed  in  his  kingdom 
by  the  conqueror,  and  still  held  the  position  of  a  Jlace- 
donian  satrap  when  assassinated  some  time  between  321 
and  315  B.C.  See  India,  vol.  xii.  pp.  786,  787,  and  Persia, 
vol.  xviii.  p.  586.  His  cousin,  also  named  Porus,  with 
whom  he  was  on  bad  terms,  ruled  over  Gandaris  beyond 
the  Hydraotes  (Ravi),  and  was  subdued  by  Hephaestion. 

POSEIDON,  the  ancient  Greek  god  of  the  sea  and  of 
water  generally,  was  gabled  to  be  the  son  of  Cronus  and 
Rhea,  and  brother  of  Zeus  and  Pluto.  TMien  the  three 
brothers  deposed  their  father  Cronus  the  kingdom  of  the 
sea  fell  by  lot  to  Poseidon.  With  his  wife,  Amphitrite,  be 
dwelt  in  the  depths  of  the  sea ;  at  Mgse  he  had  a  golden 
house  beneath  the  waves.  In  his  hand  he  bore  a  trident 
(a  three-pronged  fish-spear),  wherewith  he  lashed  the  sea 
into  fury.  But,  while  he  caused  storms  and  shipwrecks, 
he  could  also  send  favouring  winds.  He  was  the  god  of 
navigation,  adored  by  all  who  sailed  the  sea.  His  temples 
stood  especially  on  headlands  and  isthmuses.  As  god  of 
the  sea  he  disputed  with  other  deities  for  the  possession 
of  the  land— with  Athene  for  Athens  and  Trcezen,  with 
Helios  for  Corinth,  with  Hera  for  Argos,  with  Zeus  for 
^gina,  kc.  Earthquakes  were  thought  to  be  produced 
by  Poseidon   shaking   the  earth,— hence  his   epithet  of 


"Earth -shaker,"  and  hence  he  was  worshipped  even  in 
inland  places,-  like  Apamea  in  Phrygia,  which  had  suffered 
from  earthquakes.     Hence  also  may  have  arisen  the  custom 
in  some  places  of  sacrificing  moles  to  him.     The  great  sea- 
wave  which  ofEeu  accompanies  an  earthquake  was  also  his 
work ;  the  destruction  of  Helice  in  Achaia  by  such  a  wave 
(373  B.C.)  was  attributed  to  his  wrath.     Once  when  an 
earthquake  shook  the  ground  where  a  Spartan  army  was 
encamped,    the  whole  army  sang   a   hymn    to  Poseidon. 
The  island  of  Delos  was  thought  to  have  been  raised  by 
him  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  and  in  237  b.c.,_  when 
a  new  island  appeared  between  Thera  and  Therasia,  the 
Rhodians  founded  a  temple  of  Poseidon  on  it.     Thessaly 
was  said  to  have  been  a  lake  until  this  god  opened  a  way 
for  the  waters  through  the  Vale  of  Tempe.     Poseidon  was 
also  the  god  of  springs,  which  he  produced  by  striking  the 
rock  with  his  trident,  as  he  did  on  the  acropolis  of  Athens 
when  he  was  disputing  with  Athene  for  the  sovereignty  of 
Athens      This   dispute  was    represented    on   the  western 
pediment   of   the  Parthenon.     As  he  gave,  so  he   could 
withhold  springs  of  water ;  thus  the  waterless  neighbour- 
hood of   Argos  was  supposed    to  suffer  from  his    anger. 
Black  bulls  were  sacrificed  to  him  ;  in  Ionia  and  Thessaly 
bull-fights  took  place  in  his  hont^ur ;  at  a  festival  of  his  at 
Ephesus  the  cupbearers  were  called  "  bulls,"  and  the  god 
himself  was  sumamed  "Bull  Poseidon."     The  horse  was 


P  O  S  — P  0  s 


5/59 


especially  nssociatcd  with  liis  worship  ;  he  was  said  to  have 
produced  the  first  horse  hy  striking  tlie  ground  in  Tliessaly 
ivith  h\>  trident.  JSX  a  fountain  in  Argolis  horses  bitted 
and  bridled  were  sacrifieed  to  him  by  being  drowned  in  the 
■water,  and  similarly  Sextns  Pompeius  sought  to  propitiate 
him  by  throwing  horses  into  the  sea.  He  bore  the  surname 
of  "Horse  Xcptune,"  and  was  regarded  as  the  tamer  as 
well  as  the  creator  of  the  steed.  His  worship  was  thought 
by  Herodotus  to  have  been  derived  from  the  Lib3'ans.  It 
had  special  seats  in  Thessaly,  Bceotia,  and  the  Peloponnesus. 
He  had  a  famous  cave-like  temple  at  Tienarum  in  Laconia. 
On  the  island  of  Tenos  he  was  worshipped  as  the  physician, 
and  crowds  gathered  from  the  neighbouring  islands  to 
offer  sacrifice.  At  Mj'cale  in  Asia  Minor  the  Panloniura, 
or  place  of  general  assembly  of  the  Ionian  Greeks,  was 
sacred  to  him.  In  the  Trojan  War  Poseidon  sided  with 
the  Greeks  because  he  had  been  cheated  of  his  reward  by 
Laomedon,  the  former  king  of  Troy,  for  whom  he  had  built 
the  city  walls.  The  offspring  of  his  numerous  amours 
were  mostly  wild  and  cruel  like  the  sea ;  such  were  the 
Lsestrygones,  Polyphemus,  Cycnus,  Antceus,  Busiris,  Pro- 
crustes, Sciron,  and  Orion.  AJcinous,  king  of  the  sea- 
faring Phoeacians  in  the  Odyssey,  traced  his  lineage  to 
Poseidon.  By  far  the  most  famous  of  the  festivals  of 
Poseidon  was  that  celebrated  every  second  year  on  the 
Isthmusof  Corinth  and  hence  called  the  "Isthmian  festival " 
(see  vol.  X.  p.  65).  Pine  trees  were  sacred  to  Poseidon  ;  a 
row  of  them  stood  close  to  his  temple  on  the  isthmus. 
Amongst  the  lonians  the  stormy  month  which  precedes  the 
winter  solstice  was  called  by  the  name  of  Poseidon.  He 
was  described  as  dark-haired,  broad -breasted,  and  blue- 
eyed.  In  works  of  art  he  appeared  holding  a  trident  and 
with  a  dolphin  on  his  hand  or  under  his  feet ;  sometimes 
he  was  represented  riding  a  hull,  a  horse,  or  a  sea-horse, 
or  in  a  chariot,  often  surrounded  by  the  Tritons,  Nereids, 
and  other  fabulous  creatures  of  the  sea.  There  were 
colossal  statues  of  him  at  Hclice  in  Achaia,  on  the  Isthmus 
of  Corinth  (set  up  by  the  Greeks  after  the  Persian  wars), 
and  at  Tenos.  The  derivation  of  his  name  is  uncertain  ; 
Bome  refer  it  to  the  same  root  as  ttotos,  Trora/ios,  ikc. ; 
others  compare  ttoti'io.  In  modern  Greece  St  Nicholas 
has  taken  the  place  of  Poseidon  as  patron  of  sailors.  But 
the  ZachjTithians  have  a  special  sea-god,  half  man,  half 
fish,  who  dwells  under  the  sea,  rides  on  dolphins  or  in  a  car 
drawn  by  dolphins,  and  wields  a  trident.  He  seems  to 
combine  the  attributes  of  Poseidon  and  Nereus.  For  the 
Roman  sea-god,  see  Neptune. 

POSEN,  a  province  in  the  east  of  Prussia,  ^vith  an  area 
(11,180  square  miles)  nearly  equal  to  that  of  Belgium,  is 
bounded  on  the  N.  by  the  province  of  Prussia,  on  the  E. 
by  Russian  Poland,  on  the  S.  by  Silesia,  and  on  the  W. 
by  Brandenburg.  It  belongs  physically  to  the  great  north 
German  plain,  and  consists  of  a  low  plateau  intersected 
by  the  beds  of  the  Netze,  the  Warthe,  and  the  Obra.  The 
three  rivers  just  named  drain  into  the  Oder,  but  part  of 
the  province  falls  within  the  basin  of  the  Vistula,  which 
forms  the  frontier  for  a  short  distance  on  the  north-cast. 
The  surface  of  the  whole  district  is  dotted  with  small  lakes 
and  ponds,  and  there  are  many  broad  fens  and  marshes. 
The  soil  on  the  whole  is  light  and  sandy,  but  much  of  tho 
land  reclaimed  in  the  boggy  districts  Ls  very  fertile.  Up- 
wards of  61  per  cent,  of  the  area  is  under  cultivation,  while 
13  per  cent,  is  occupied  by  pasture  and  meadows  and 
20  per  cent,  by  forests.  The  principal  crops  are  wheat, 
r)-e,  oats,  barley,  potatoes,  and  hops  (compare  Prussia); 
the  vine  is  cultivated  to  some  extent  in  the  south-west 
corner,  and  tobacco  is  also  groivn.  The  marshy  tracts 
often  afford  excellent  pasture  and  support  darge  numbers 
of  cattle,  sheep,  and  goats.  The  mineral  resources  of  the 
province  are  practically  restricted  to  brown  coal  and  salt, 


about  2G,000  tons  of  the  former  and  75,000  tons  of  the 
latter  being  raised  in  1S82.  The  industry  is  confined  to 
a  few  points,  and  is  of  comparatively  little  importance. 
Besides  beer  and  brandy,  the  chief  products  are  machinery, 
cloth,  tobacco,  and  bricks.  Trade,  carried  on  briskly  in 
timber  and  agricultural  produce,  is  facilitated  by  the  net- 
work of  navigable  rivers  and  canals.  Both  industry  and 
trade  are  somewhat  cramped  by  the  duties  imposed  at  the 
Russian  frontier.  The  population  of  tho  province  in  1880 
was  1,703,397,  including  1,112,902  Roman  Catholics, 
532,498  Protestants,  and  56,609  .Jews.  The  Roman 
Catholics  are  mainly  Poles,  of  whom  there  are  about 
950,000  in  Posen,  while  the  great  bulk  of  the  750,000 
Germans  are  Protestants.  About  65  per  cent,  of  the  popu- 
lation is  returned  as  "  rural "  in  spite  of  tho  large  number 
of  so-called  "  towns,"  only  seven  of  which,  however,  have 
more  than  10,000  inhabitants.  The  largest  are  Posen 
and  Bromberg.  The  province  of  Posen  enjoys  the  unenvi- 
able distinction  of  being  tho  worst  educated  corner  of  the 
German  dominions,  a  fact  illustrated  by  the  high  ratio  of 
illiterate  recruits  (9-75  per  cent,  in  1882-83).  It  is  re- 
presented in  the  German  reichstag  by  fifteen  and  in  the 
Prussian  parliament  by  twenty-nine  deputies. 

J?w(o)j/.— Tlie  history  of  tlie  Jistrict  of  Posen,  comprehending 
great  part  of  the  cradle  of  the  old  kingdom  of  Poland,  including  its 
most  ancient  capital  (Gnesen),  falls  properly  witliiii  tho  scope  of 
the  article  Poi.axd  {q.v.).  Its  political  connexion  with  Prussia 
began  in  1772,  when  the  districts  to  the  north  of  tho  Netze  fell  to 
the  sliaro  of  that  power  in  the  first  paititiou  of  Poland.  The  rest 
followed  in  1793,  and  was  united  with  tho  Netze  district  to  form  the 
province  of  South  I'russia.  After  the  peace  of  Tilsit  Posen  was  in- 
corporated with  ^lie  grand-duchy  of  Warsaw,  but  in  1815  it  reverted 
to  Prussia  under  tho  style  of  the  "grand-duchy  of  Posen."  In  18-IS 
the  Polish  inhabitants  of  the  province  revolted  ami  had  to  bo  put 
down  by  force  ;  and  a  thoroughly  harmonious  union  of  tho  two 
elements  of  the  population  is  still  unattaincd. 

Tho  tide  of  German  immigration  into  Posen  began  at  an  early 
period  and  flowed  very  strongly  in  the  13th  and  following  centuries. 
The  industrious  German  settlos  were  heartily  welcomed  by  tlm 
Polish  nobles  and  were  the  founders  of  most  of  the  towns,  in  which 
they  lived  after  their  own  customs  and  were  governed  by  their  own 
laws.  They  established  the  few  manufactures  of  which  tho  district 
can  boast,  introduced  the  cultivation  of  hops,  reclaimed  the  waste 
soil,  and  did  much  to  improve  agricultnii)  generally.  In  tho  IGth 
century  Protestantism  was  widely  ditrused  by  their  means.  A  strong 
reaction,  however,  set  in  in  tlio  following  century,  and  persecution 
of  the  Protestants  went  hand  in  hand  vith  tho  ravages  of  war  in 
hastening  the  political,  intellectual,  and  dgricultural  decline  of  tho 
territory.  By  the  Ifth  century  the  burghers  had  sunk  to  the  level 
of  "stadtischo  Bauern,"  or  peasants  witli  municipal  privileges,  and 
poverty  and  misery  were  widely  spread.  Tho  Prussian  rule,  in 
spite  of  many  defects,  proved  so  boueliciol  that  oven  Napoleon  was 
compelled  to  praise  it 

Posen  ccmiains  a  numerous  Polish  nobleose,  many  of  the  momoors 
of  T.'hich  are  very  jioor.  A  double  transformation  Is  going  on  hi 
the  ownership  of  the  ground,  th.o  large  estates  pa.^sing  into  tho 
hands  of  the  peasants  and  Polish  proprietoragiviug  place  to  German. 
A  few  years  ago  between  60  and  70  per  cent,  of  tho  soil  was  occupied 
by  "latifundia,"  while  at  present  it  is  pretty  equally  divided  between 
those  and  pcivsant  holdings.  In  the  four  years  1878-81,  inclusive, 
the  land  in  the  possession  of  Germans  increased  at  tho  cvpensi- 
of  Polish  landowners  by  upwards  of  100,000  acres.  Tho  peasant- 
farmers  are  generally  deeply  in  debt,  partly  owing  to  the  educational 
and  communal  burdens,  but  mainly  owing  lo  the  pernicious  custom 
of  "Leibgediuge,"  according  to  which  an  able-bodied  man  in  the 
primo  of  life  will  give  up  his  holding  in  return  for  an  annuity 
from  his  succes-sor.  In  some  instaucos  two  annuitants  of  this  kiml 
are  found  living  on  the  same  small  patch  of  ground  iu  addition  to 
tho  actual  cultivator. 

POSEN  (Polish,  PoMdti),  capital  of  tho  above  province, 
the  seat  of  a  Roman  Catholic  archbishop,  and  tho  head- 
quarters of  n  corps  of  the  German  army,  is  situated  at  the 
confiuenco  of  tho  Cybina  and  Warthe,  150  miles  to  tho 
east  of  Berlin  and  90  miles  to  (ho  north  of  Breslau.  It  is 
a  fortress  of  tho  first  rank  and  of  great  strategic  import- 
ance ;  tho  works  consist  of  a  citadel  and  inner  lino  of 
bastions,  and  an  outer  circle  of  twelve  detached  forts. 
Tho  principal  part  of  tho  town  lies  on  the  west  bank  of 
the  Wartho,  and  comorises  the  so-called  Altstadt  and  the 


560 


P  O  S  — P  O  S 


well-built  modem  quarter  that  has  sprung  up  under  the 
Prussian  regime.  On  the  other  bank  is  the  Wallischei,  a 
poor  district  inhabited  by  Poles.  Among  the  older  build- 
ings none  calls  for  remark  except  the  town-house,  a  quaint 
specimen  of  the  Slavonic  adaptation  of  Eomanesque  forms. 
The  chief  modern  buildings  are  the  various  military  and 
public  oflBces,  the  law  courts,  the  theatre,  the  real  school, 
and  the  Raczynski  library.  The  churches  are  devoid  of 
architectural  interest,  but  the  cathedral  contains  numerous 
interesting  objects  of  art,  including  two  bronze-gilt  statues 


Plan  of  Posen. 

of  the  first  Christian  kings  of  Poland,  by  Rauch.  The 
manufactures  of  Posen  are  multifarious  enough,  including 
machinery,  carriages,  tobacco,  copper  boilers  and  vats, 
military  requisites,  chemicals,  &c. ;  but  there  is  nothing 
that  can  be  called  a  staple  industry.  A  lively  trade  is 
carried  on  in  -  the  agricultural  products  of  Russia  and 
Poland,  and  several  well-attended  fairs  and  markets  are 
held.  In  1880  Posen  contained  65,713  inhabitants,  in- 
cluding 35,725  Roman  Catholics,  22,869  Protestants,  and 
7063  Jews.  The  'German  inhabitants  are  at  present  con- 
siderably more  numerous  than  the  Poles,  though  it  would 
seem  that  the  latter  have  increased  in  a  greater  ratio  since 
1875.  The  Jewish  element  is  stronger  here  (10'7  per  cent.) 
than  in  any  other  town  in  Germany.  The  garrison  consists 
of  7000  men. 

Posen,  one  of  the  oldest  towns  in  Poland  and  the  residence  of 
some  of  the  early  Polish  princes,  became  the  seat  of  a  Christian 
bishop  towards  the  end  of  the  10th  century.  The  original  settle- 
ment was  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Warthe,  but  the  new  or  German 
town,  established  on  the  west  bank  about  the  year  1250,  soon  be- 
came the  more  important  half  of  the  double  city.  Posen  was  a 
royal  free  town,  and  was  directly  represented  in  the  Polish  diet 
Jown  to  1733.  In  the  Middle  Ages  it  became  a  great  depot  of  the 
trade  between  Germany  and  the  west  of  Europe  on  the  one  hand  and 
Poland  and  Russia  on  the  other.  Numerous  foreign  merchants 
took  up  their  abode  here,  including  a  strong  colony  of  Scotsmen, 
who  exported  raw  produce  to  Edinburgh.  The  town  attained  the 
climax  of  its  prosperity  in  the  16th  century,  when  its  population 
is  variously  estimated  at  from  30,000  to  80,000.  The  intolerance 
shown  to  the  Protestants,  the  troubles  of  the  Thirtj' Years'  War,  the 
visitation  of  the  plague,  and  other  causes,  however,  coon  conspired 
to  change  the  state  of  affairs,  and  in  the  18th  century  the  tovm 
had  only  5000  inhabitants.  New  life  was  infused  into  it  on  its 
annexation  by  Prussia  at  the  second  partition  of  Poland,  and  since 
then  its  progi-ess  has  been  limited  only  by  its  position  as  a  fortress. 
The  relations  of  the  German  and  Polish  elements  of  the  population 
continue  to  be  somewhat  strained. 

POSIDONIUS,  a  distinguished  Stoic  philosopher,  the 
most  learned  man  of  his  time  (c.  130-50  B.C.)  and  per- 
haps of  all  the  school ;  by  birth  a  Syrian  from  Apamea,  a 
pupil  of  Panaetius,  he  spent  after  his  teacher's  death  many 
.years  in  travel  and  scientific  researches  in  Spain  (particu- 
larly at  Gades),  Africa,   Italy,  Gaul,   Liguria,  Sicily,  and 


on  the  eastern  shores  of  the  Adriatic.  When  he  sett\ed  as 
a  teacher  at  Rhodes  his  fame  attracted  numerous  scholars  ; 
next  to  Panastius  he  did  most,  by  writings  and  personal 
intercourse,  to  spread  Stoicism  in  the  Roman  world ;  he 
became  well  known  to  many  of  the  leading  men,  as  lilarius, 
Rutilius  Rufus,  Pompey,  and  Cicero.  The  last-named 
studied  under  him  (78-77  B.C.),  and  speaks  as  his  warm 
admirer  and  personal  friend. 

Strabo  mentions  him  as  a  contemporary.  Tlie  date  of  his  birth 
has  not  been  fixed  ;  it  may  have  been  135,  130,  or  125  B.  c. ;  accord- 
ing to  Lucian,  he  lived  to  be  eighty-four.  He  visited  Rome — e.g., 
in  86  B.C.  on  an  embassy  ;  but  it  is  doubtful  if  he  ever  resided 
there  as  a  teacher.  His  works,  now  lost,  were  written  in  an  attract- 
ive style  and  proved  a  mine  of  information  to  later  writers.  The 
titles  and  subjects  of  more  than  twenty  of  them  are  known.  In 
common  with  other  Stoics  of  the  middle  period,  he  displays  eclectic 
tendencies.  His  admiration  for  Plato  led  him  to  wxite  a  comment- 
ary on  the  Timmiis ;  in  another  way  it  is  shown  by  unportant 
modifications  which  he  made  in  psychological  doctrine.  Unques- 
tionably more  of  a  polymath  than  a  philosopher,  he  appears  to  us 
uncritical,  or  credulous  even,  and  superficial.  But  at  the  time  his 
spirit  of  inquiry  provoked  Strabo's  criticism  as  something  alien  to 
the  school  (t6  airioXoytKiv  Kal  t6  dpiaroT^Xi^ov,  dw€p  ^kkKIvovgiv  oI 
il^ih-epot).  In  natural  science  he  took  a  genuine  interest,  as  his 
contributions  to  geography,  natural  history,  mathematics,  and 
astronomy  sufficiently  attest.  He  sought  to  determine  the  distance 
and  magnitude  of  the  sun,  to  calculate  the  diameter  of  the  earth 
and  the  influence  of  the  moon  on  the  tides.  His  history  of  the 
period  from  146  to  88  B.C.,  in  fifty-two  books,  must  have  been 
a  valuable  storehouse  of  facts.  Cicero,  who  submitted  to  his 
criticism  the  memoirs  which  he  had  written  in  Greek  of  his  consul- 
ship, made  use  of  writings,  of  Posidonius  in  De  Natura  Deorum, 
b.  ii.,  and  De  Divinatione,  b.  i. ,  and  the  author  of  the  pseudo- 
Aristotelian  treatise  De  Muncio  also  borrowed  from  him. 

ZeUer,  PhUosophie  der  Griechen,  iii.  1,  570-584  (in  Eng.  trans.,  Edecticism,  5fi- 
70) ;  C.  Milller,  Fragmenla Hisforicorum  Grxcorum.  iii.  246-296 ;  J.  Bake,  Posidanii 
RhodiiPflviv-iie,  Leyden,  1810 (a  valuable  monograpli) ;  R.  Scheppig,  De  PosUhnio 
rerum  gentium  terramm  scriptore,  Berlin,  1869 ;  R.  Ilirzel,  Vntersvcknvgen  zu 
Ciceros  philosophischen  Schrijten,  i.  191  sq.  ;  ii.  257  sj.,  SiH  sq.,  477-535.  756-789  : 
iii.  342-378  (Leipsic,  1877).    Bee  Stoicism. 

POSITIVISM,  or  Positi-ve  Philosophy.     See  Comte. 

POSSESSION  is  a  legal  term  derived  from  Roman  law. 
The  Roman  conception  of  possession  has  been  generally 
adopted,  but  the  Roman  deductions  from  the  conception 
have  not  been  universally  followed.  The  subject  of  pos- 
session, in  itself  a  difficult  one,  has  become  more  difficult 
owing  to  the  various  senses  in  which  the  term  has  been 
interpreted.  Thus  it  has  been  said  to  be  either  a  right 
or  a  fact  conferring  a  right,  or  both  together.  The  latter 
is  the  view  of  Savigny,  the  leading  authority  upon  the 
subject  (Eecht  des  Besitzes,  translated  by  Sir  Erskine  Perry, 
1848).  Further,  there  is  a  want  of  agreement  among  legal 
writers  as  to  the  amount  of  right  or  rights  vhat  it  confers. 
All  that  can  be  said  with  safety  is  that  possession  stands 
in  a  position  intermediate  between  simple  detention  and 
absolute  ownership,  and  that  it  implies  two  elements,  a 
physical  and  a  mental  one, — physical  detention  and  mental 
intention  to  hold  the  thing  possessed  as  one's  own.  In 
the  words  of  the  Digest,  "  Apiscimur  possessionem  corpore 
et  animo,  neque  per  se.animo  aut  per  se  corpore"  (xli.  2, 
3,  1 ).  The  difficulties  which  have  been  stated  being  borne 
in  mind,  the  definition  of  Professor  Hunter  may  be  accepted 
as  being  at  least  as  good  as  any  other  that  has  been  sug- 
gested: "Possession  is  the  occupation  of  anything  with  the 
intention  of  exercising  the  rights  of  ownership  in  respect  of 
it "  {Eoman  Lmc,  p.  209).  Possession  is  inchoate  or  incom- 
plete ownership ;  it  is  on  its  way  to  become  o'wnership. 
In  the  case  of  the  public  domain  of  Rome  {ager  piiVlints) 
the  possession  was  really  the  important  matter,  the  dominium 
being  practically  of  no  value.  Possession  in  Roman  law 
was  either  natural  or  diil.  The  former  was  mere  occupa- 
tion, the  latter  such  occupation  as  ripened  by  prescription 
into  ownership.  Possession  exclusive  against  the  world 
(including  the  true  ownier)  was  called  "adverse  possession." 
A  servitude,  such  as  a  right  of  way,  could  not  be  held  in 
true  possession,  but  was  said  to  be  in  "  quasi-possession." 
The   quasi -pos.sessor  had,   however,   possessory  remedies. 


POSSESSION 


561 


In  Roman  law  a  broad  distinction  was  drawn  between 
possession  and  ownership  (dominium).^     They  were  pro- 
tected   by   different   remedies, — possession    by    interdict, 
ownership  by  action.     This  difference  can  only  be  explained 
by  history.     Here  again,  unfortunately,  authorities  differ. 
According  to  Savigny,  a  Roman  citizen  who  had  become  a 
tenant  of  part  of  the  a^er  publicus  could  not  by  any  length 
of  holding  obtain  more  than  a  quasi-ownership,  biit  one  of 
which  it  would  have  been  morally  unjust  to  have  deprived 
him.    "The  only  legal  remedies  of  which  the  tenants  could 
avail  themselves,  if  ejected  or  threatened  with  disturbance, 
were  the  possessory  interdicts,  summary  processes  of  Roman 
law  which  were  either  expressly  devised  by  the  preetor 
for  their  protection,  or  else,  according  to  another  theory, 
had  in  older  times  been  employed   for  the  provisional 
maintenance   of   possessions   pending   the   settlement   of 
questions  of  legal  right"  (Maine,  Ancient  Law,  ch.  viii.). 
Savigny  regards  the  protection  of  possession  as  an  exten- 
sion of  the  protection  of  the  person.     The  same  view  was 
taken  by  the  English  Court  of  Exchequer  in  Rogers  v. 
Spence,  13  Meeson  and  Welsby's  Reports,  581.    According 
to  Professor  Hunter  {Roman  Law,  pp.  206,  221),  Savigny 
overlooked  the  needs  of  aliens.     It  was  the  needs  of  aliens, 
incapable  of  the  full  proprietary  rights  of  Roman  citizens, 
that  led  to  the  invention  by  the  praetor  of  a  means  of  giving 
them  equitable  rights  in  the  land,  and  protecting  them  in 
the  enjoyment  of  these  rights.     Savigny  attributes  only 
two  rights  to  possession   in  Roman  law — acquisition   of 
ownership  by  possession  for  a  given  time  {usucapio,  longi 
temporis  possessio)  and  protection  of  possession  from  dis- 
turbance  (interdictum).      Others    have   included   further 
rights, — inter  alia,  the  right  to  use  force  in  defence  of  pos- 
session, and  the  right  to  have  the  burden  of  proof,  in  a 
contest  as  to  the  title,  thrown  upon  the  adversary :  "  In 
pari  causa  possessor  potior  haberi  debet."     The  position 
of  the  possessor  in  Roman  law  was  a  very  strong  one.     If 
a  bona  fide  possessor,  he  could  bring  an  action  for  furtum 
even  against  the  owner  ;  if  a  mala  fide  possessor  of  land, 
he  was  so  far  protected  that  he  could  not  bo  ejected  by 
force.     A  mala  fide  possessor  of  movables  could,  however, 
acquire  no  rights.^ 

It  has  been  already  stated  that  there  is  both  a  physical 
and  a  mental  element  in  the  conception  of  possession. 
This  does  not  necessarily  mean  that  corporal  contact  is  in 
all  cases  requisite,  or  that  the  intention  to  hold  the  thing 
possessed  as  one's  own  may  not  be  abandoned  for  a  time. 
The  control  may  be  potential  as  well  as  actual.  An  estate 
may  be  possessed  without  the  possessor  going  upon  the 
land  at  all,  and  the  possession  of  goods  may  be  given  by 
delivering  the  key  of  the  warehouse  in  which  they  are 
stored.  In  international  law  tho  possession  of  part  as 
giving  the  right  to  the  whole  has  been  of  great  importance. 
The  possession  of  the  coast  of  a  newly-discovered  country 
gives  a  right  to  the  inland  territory  within  certain  limits 
(see  Twiss,  International  Law,  vol.  i.  p.  170).  Where 
goods  are  pledged  or  bailed  for  a  specific  purpose  tho 
intention  of  the  pledgor  or  bailor  to  hold  them  as  his  own 
is  suspended  during  the  existence  of  the  limited  right  of 
the  pledgee  or  bailee,  to  whom  a  fragment  of  tho  posses- 
sion has  passed.  In  Roman  law  the  pledgor  had  possessio 
ad  usucapionem,  tho  pledgee  possessio  ad  interdicta.  The 
possession  of  the  pledgee  or  bailee  has  been  called  "  deriva- 
tive possession."  Possession  may  be  exercised  through 
another  ("animo  nostro,  corpore  alieno"),  as  through  a 

Tho  distinction  is  very  important,  as  it  affects  tho  contract  of  galo. 
Tho  contract  was  not  to -transfer  ownership,  as  in  English  law,  but 
only  vacxia  mssessio. 

'^i'  does  not  agree  with  English  law,  where  in  certain  cases  a 
thief  can  give  a  good  title  to  stolen  goods,  though  lie  has  no  title 
ttlmaelf. 


servant,  who  has  not  true  possession.^  Possession  so  exer-' 
cised  has  been  called  "  representative  possessioa."  As  soon 
as  the  representative  determines  to  assume  control  on  his 
own  behalf  or  to  submit  to  the  control  of  another,  the 
possession  of  the  principal  is  gone.  Possession  may  be 
transferred  or  lost.  It  is  lost  when  either  the  corpus  or 
the  animus  (to  use  the  terms  of  Roman  law)  ceases  to  exist. 
It  may  be  lost  by  the  representative  in  cases  where  the 
principal  might  have  lost  it. 

In  both  Roman  and  English  law  the  possessory  tended 
to  supersede  the  proprietary  remedies  from  their  greater 
convenience, — that  is  to  say,  the  plaintiff  based  his  claim 
or  the  defendant  his  right  upon  possession  rather  than 
property  The  English  possessory  action  may  have  been 
directly  suggested  by  the  interdict.  Bracton  (103b) 
identifies  the  assise  of  novel  disseisin,  the  most  common 
form  of  possessory  action,  with  the  interdict  unde  vi.  In 
England  ejectment  had  practically  superseded  other  real 
actions  before  the  latter  were  (with  the  exception  of  dower, 
writ  of  dower,  and  quare  impedit)  expressly  abolished  by 
3  and  4  Will.  IV.  c.  27,  s.  36.  The  action  for  the  recovery 
of  land,  introduced  by  the  Judicature  Acts,  is  the  modern 
representative  of  the  action  of  ejectment.  The  right  of 
a  party  to  recover  possession  is  enforced  by  a  writ  of 
possession. 

Possession  gives  in  English  law,  speaking  generally, 
much  the  same  rights  as  in  Roman  law.  Thus  it  serves 
to  found  a  title  (see  Limitation,  Peescription),  and  to 
throw  the  onus  of  proof  upon  the  claimant.  In  an  action 
for  the  recovery  of  land  the  defendant  need  only  allege 
that  he  is  in  possession  by  himself  or  his  tenant,  and 
(where  such  an  allegation  is  necessary)  that  he  had  no 
notice  to  quit.  The  chief  differences  between  Roman  and 
English  law,  arising  to  some  extent  from  the  differences 
in  the  history  of  the  two  systems,  are  that  the  former  did 
not  give  to  derivative  possessors  (except  in  the  case  of 
pledge)  the  remedies  of  possessors,  as  does  English  law, 
and  that  Roman  law  is  stricter  than  English  in  requiring 
that  possession  to  found  usucapio  should  (except  in  the 
case  of  jus  aquse  ducendx)  be  ex  justo  titulo,  or  under 
colour  of  right  (see  Prescription).  .  There  is  one  case  of 
constructive  possession  which  is  peculiar  to  English  law, 
— that  is,  where  possession  is  said  to  be  given  by  a  deed 
operating  under  the  Statute  of  Uses  (see  "  Orme's  Case,", 
Law  Reports,  8  Common  Pleas,  281). 

In  English  law  the  doctrine  of  possession  becomes  practically 
important  in  tho  following  cases.  (1)  Possession  serves  as  a  con- 
venient means  of  division  of  estates  (see  Real  Estate).  One  of 
the  divisions  of  estates  is  into  estates  in  possession  and  estates  in 
reversion  or  remainder.  It  also  serves  as  a  division  of  Personal 
Estate  (q.v.).  A  chose  in  action  is  said  to  bo  reduced  into  pos- 
session when  the  right  of  recovery  by  legal  proceedings  has  become 
a  right  of  enjoyment.  (2)  Possession  gives  a  title  against  a  wrong- 
doer. In  the  case  of  real  property  it  is  regarded  as  prima  facie 
evidence  of  seisin.'  In  tho  case  of  personal  property  tho  more  pos- 
session of  a  linder  is  sufTicieut  to  enable  him  to  maintain  an  action 
of  trover  against  ono  who  deprives  him  of  the  chattel  °  (see  tho 
leading  case  of  Armory  v.  Delamirie,  1  Strange's  Reports,  604). 
(3)  What  is  called  "unity  of  possession"  is  ono  of  tho  moans 
whereby  an  easement  is  extinguished.  Thus  the  owner  of  close 
A  may  have  had  a  right  of  way  over  close  B,  while  tho  latter 
belonged  to  a  different  owner.     If  tho  two  closes  come  to  be  owned 


^  Much  of  tho  law  of  master  and  servant  is  bat>ud  upon  the  Roman 
law  of  master  and  slave.  Tlio  scr\ant,  like  tho  slave,  has  not  posses- 
sion of  his  master's  goods  oven  though  they  are  in  his  custody,  unless, 
indeed,  the  circumstances  are  such  that  he  ceases  'to  bo  a  servant  and 
becomes  a  bailee.  ■ 

'  "Seisin  "  and  "possession"  are  nsed  aomotimes  as  synonyms,  u 
generally  by  Bracton  ;  at  other  times  they  are  distinguished  :  thus  there 
can  bo  possession  of  a  term  of  years,  but  no  seisin  (Noy,  Maxims, 
p.  2).  It  seems  doubtful,  however,  how  far  in  Englisli  law  a  tenant 
for  years  has  true  possession,  for  he  is  in  law  only  &  bailiff  or  servant 
of  tho  landlord.  But  he  certainly  has  possessory  remedies,  like  tho 
qua.'si'possessor  in  Roman  law. 

»  Compare  tho  Codt  NapoUm.  art.  2279  :  "  En  fait  do  meublu  fak^ 
possession  vaut  titre." 


562 


P  0  S  — P  O  S 


Jby  the  same  person,  the  right  of  way  is  extinguished,  but  may 
under  certain  circumstances  revive  on  the  separation  of  the  owner- 
ship. '(4)  Possession  is  very  important  as  an  element  in  deter- 
mining the  title  to  goods  under  13  Eliz.  c.  5,  the  Bills  of  Sale  Act, 
1878  (41  and  42  Vict.  c.  31,  ss.  4,  8),  and  the  Bankruptcy  Act, 
1883  (46  and  47  Vict.  c.  52,  s..  44).  It  may  be  said  that  as  a 
general  rule  retention  of  possession  by  the  transferor  on  an  absolute 
assignment  or~a  colourable  delivery  of  possession  to  the  transferee 
is  strong  prima  facie  evidence  of  fraud.  "  Apparent  possession  " 
is  defined  by  section  4  of  the  Bills  of  Sale  Ad  (5)  Possession  of 
goods  or  documents  of  title  to  goods  is  generally  sufficient  to  enable 
agents  and  others  to  give  a  good  title  under  the  Factors'  Acts 
(see  Factors).  (6)  In  criminal  law  the  question  of  possession  is 
important  in  founding  the  distinction  between  larceny  and  embezzle- 
ment. If  the  goods  are  in  the  possession  of  the  master  and  he 
gives  them  to  the  custody  of  his  servant  for  a  specific  purpose,  and 
the  servant  steals  them,  it  is  larceny  ;  if  they  have  never  come  into 
the  master's  possession,  as  if  a  clerk  receives  money  on  his  master's 
behalf,  it  is  embezzlement.  Recent  possession  of  stolen  goods  is 
always  regarded  as  a  presumption  that  the  person  in  whose  pos- 
session they  axe  stole  them  or  received  them  knowing  them  to 
have  been  stolen.  In  the  case  of  a  charge  of  receiving  stolen  goods 
evidence  may  bo  given  that  there  was  found  in  the  possession  of 
the  accused  other  property  stolen  within  the  preceding  period  of 
twelve  months,  34  and  35  Vict.  c.  112,  s.  19.  (For  possession  in 
criminal  law,  see  Stephen,  Digest  of  the  Criminal  Law,  note  xi. ). 
(7)  Actions  of  possession  of  ships  fall  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
Admiralty  Division.  This  jurisdiction  in  the  case  of  British  vessels 
depends  upon  the  Admiralty  Court  Act,  1861  (24  Vict.  c.  10,  s.  8), 
in  the  case  of  foreign  vessels  (in  which  the  jurisdiction  is  rarely 
exercised)  upon  the  general  powers  of  the  court  as  a  maritime  court. 
The  doctrines  of  adverse  possession  (in  the  old  English  sense, 
which  was  not  identical  mth  the  Roman  law,  for  the  real  owner  must 
have  actually  or  by  fiction  been  disseised)  and  of  posscssiofratris 


are  bow  of  only~antiquarian  interest.  The  Statutes  of  Cimitation, 
3  and  4  Will.  IV.  c.  27  and  37  and  38  Vict.  c.  57,  have  super- 
seded the  first.  The  only  question  now  is,  not  whether  possession 
has  been  adverse  or  not,  but  whether  twelve  years'  have  elapsed 
since  the  right  accrued  (See  Limitation).  The  maxim  "possessio 
fratris  de  feodo  simplici  sororem  facit  esse  hferedem  "  (Coke  upon 
Littleton,  14b)  has  been  altered  by  the  rules  of  descent  introduced 
by  3  and  4  Will.  IV.  c.  106,  under  which  descent  is  traced  from 
the  purchaser.  At  one  time  possessory  suits  were  occasionally 
maintaiued  in  England,  and  more  frequently  in  Iiclaud,  for  the 
quieting  of  possession  after  proof  of  three  years'  possession  before 
the  filiug  of  the  bill.  ,  But  such  suits  are  now  obsolete  (see  Neill  v. 
Duke  of  Devonshire,  &  Appeal  Cases,  146).  There  was  one  character- 
istic case  in  old  English  law  in  which  possession  was  maintained 
by  meansof  wllat  was  called  "continual  claim,"  made  j-early  indue 
form,  where  the  person  having  the  right  was  prevented  by  force  or 
fear  from  exercising  it  (Coke  upon  Littleton,  253b).  Continual 
claim  was  abolished  by  3  and  4  Will.  IV.  c.  27,  s.  11. 

Scotland. — In  Scotland  possessory  actions  still  exist  eo  nomine. 
Actions  of  molestation,  of  removing,  and  of  maiUs  and  duties  are 
examples.  A  possessory  judgment  is  one  which  entitles  a  person  who 
has  been  in  possession  under  a  written  title  for  seven  years  to  con- 
tinue his  possession  ( Watson, iaw  Diet.,  s.v."  Possessory  Judgment"). 

United  States. — Here  the  law  in  general  agrees  with,  that  of 
England.  But  in  Maryland,  New  Hampshire,  North  Carolina, 
and  Vermont  the  doctrine  oi possessio  fratris  apparently  still  exists- 
(Bouvier,  Law  Diet,  "Possessio  Fratris").  Possessory  rights  are 
taxed  in  some  of  the  States.  Louisiana  follows  Roman  law  closely. 
Possession  of  incorporeal  rights  (to  use  the  unscientific  language 
of  the  Code)  is  called  quasi-possession,  and  the  division  of  possessioa 
into  natural  and  civil  is  maintained  (Civil  Code,  §§  8389-3419). 

In  addition  to  the  authorities  cited  may  be  meiltioned  Smith,  Did.  ofAnii- 
qxLities,5.v.  "Possessio";  Markby,  £;^em«n(sp/Iaw7,  ch.  viil. ;  Holland,  £/emen(« 
of  Jurisprudence,  eh.  xl. :  Holmes,  Ths  Common  Law  Oect.  vi.\  (J.  Wt.) 


P  0  S  T -0  F  F  I  C  E 


THE  germ  of  the  modern  postal  systems  of  the  world  is 
to  be  looked  for,  obviously,  in  the  earliest  organized 
establishment  of  a  staflf  of  Government  couriers.  When, 
or  under  what  precise  circumstances,  such  an  establishment 
was  first  made  available  by  a  state  for  the  carriage  of  the 
letters  of  private  persons  there  is  no  satisfactory  evidence 
to  show.  That  there  must  have  been,  even  in  ear  !y  times, 
a  connexion,  more  or  less  authorized,  between  the  trans- 
mission of  public  and  of.  private  correspondence  is  highly 
probable.  Even  financial  reasons  would  soon  dictate  a 
formal  permission  to  Government  couriers  to  carry  letters 
for  individuals — under  regulation  and  restriction,  of  course 
— although  at  the  outset  such  a  practice  may  well  have 
been  rather  connived  at  than  allowed.  In  the  postal 
system  of  Spain  and  the  German  empire  there  is  express 
record  of  such  a  permission  in  the  month  of  April  1 544 ; 
and  within  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  that  permission  had 
grown  into  a  legalized  and  regulated  monopoly,  whence 
the  counts  of  Taxis  drew  part  of  their  profits  as  post- 
masters-general. For  the  purposes  of  this  article,  how- 
ever, it  is  enough  to  note  that  in  Great  Britain  existing 
private  letters  of  the  15th  century — some,  perhaps,  of  the 
14th — bear  endorsements  which  show  that  they  were  con- 
veyed by  relays  of  men  and  horses  maintained  under  the 
control  of  the  Government,  and  primarily  intended  for  its 
special  service.  In  several  Continental  states  the  univer- 
sities had  inland  postal  establishments  of  a  rudimentary 
sort  at  an  early  date.  The  university  of  Paris,  for  exam- 
ple, organized  a  postal  service  almost  at  the  beginning  of 
the  13th  century,  and  it  lasted  in  a  measure  until  the  year 
1719.  In  various  parts  of  Europe  mercantile  guilds  and 
brotherhoods  were  licensed  to  establish  posts  for  commer- 
cial purposes.  But  everywhere — as  far  as  the  accessible 
evidence  extends  ^foreign  posts  were  understate  control. 


Great  Britain. 
Early  History  (c.  1533;1836), 
.As  early   as  the  middle  of   the   13th 


century_entHes 


centi^ 


occur  in  the  wardrobe  accounts  of  the  kings  of  "England 
of  payments  to  royal  messengers — variously  designated 
"coktnus,"  "nuncius,"or  "garcio" — for  the  conveyance 
of  letters  to  various  parts  of  the  country.  In  the  super- 
vision of  these  royal  messengers  lies  the  germ  of  the  oflSce 
of  postmaster-general.  The  first  English  postmaster  of  Si.x 
whom  a  distinct  account  can  be  given  is  Sir  Brian  Tuke,  t<'^°' 
who  is  described  (1533)  in  the  records  as  "Magister  Nun-"  "  ' 
ciorum,  Cursorum,  sive  Postarum,"  "both  in  England  and 
in  other  parts  of  the  king's  dominions  beyond  the  seas." 
But  long  subsequent  to  this  appointment  o£  a  postmaster- 
general  the  details  of  the  service  were  frequently  regulated 
by  proclamations  and  by  orders  in  council.  Thus,  in  the 
curious  collection  of  royal  proclamations  in  the  library 
of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries  there  is  one  of  Philip  and 
Mary  (undated,  but  apparently  of  1555)  which  regulates 
the  supply  of  horses  for  the  conveyance  of  letters  to 
Dover.i  Again,  in  July  1556  the  lords  of  the  council 
ordered  "that  the  postes  betweene  this  and  the  Northe 
should  eche  of  them  keepe  a  booke,  and  make  entrye  of 
every  lettre  that  he  shall  receive,  the  tyme  of  the  deliverie 
thereof  unto  his  hands,  with  the  parties  names  that  shall 
bring  it  unto  him."  Much  of  the  business  of  the  foreign 
postal  service  to  and  from  England  during  the  earlier  years 
of  Queen  Elizabeth  was  managed  by  the  incorporated 
"merchant  strangers,",  who  appointed  a  special  postmaster 
amongst  themselves.  When  that  office  chanced  to  fall 
vacant  in  1568  they  quarrelled  about  a  successor ;  ^and 
the  quarrel  cost  them  their  privilege.''^ 

The  accession  of  James  I.  to  the  English"  thronep^  by 
necessitating  a'  more  frequent  communication  between 
London  and  Scotland,  led  to  improvements  in  the  postal 

•  In.  his  able  account  of  this  remarkable  collection  the  late  Mr 
Robert  Lemon  has  overlooked  the  proclamation  here  referred  to,  prob*' 
ably  from  its  want  of  a  date,  his  own  arrangement  being  chronological. 
f  *  F.  Windebank  to  Sir  W.  CecU  :  "All  the  Italians  were  unwilling 
to  give  their  voices  to  Raphael,  ."'T.'  but  inclined  to  favour  Godfrey '•' 
{Dom.  Cot.  Eliz.,  xIviiL  §  65,  State  Paper  Office).  Raphael  was  «. 
German,  Godfrey  an  Englishman. 


1533-1836.] 


P  O  S  T-0  F  F  I  C  E 


563 


service.  Some  years  earlier  special  posts  had  been  estat>- 
lished  by  the  magistrates  of  certain  Scottish  towns  I'or 
the  conveyance  of  their  despatches  to  and  from  the  court. 
Thus  in  1 590  a  messenger  was  appointed  by  the  magis- 
trates of  Aberdeen  with  the  title  of  "  council-post."  ^  The 
new  royal  orders  of  1603  directed  (1)  that  the  postmasters 
at  the  various  stages  should  enjoy  the  privilege  of  letting 
horses  to  "  those  riding  in  post  (that  is  to  say)  with  horn 
and  guide,"  by  commission  or  otherwise,  and  to  that  end 
they  were  charged  to  keep  or  have  in  readiness  a  sufficient 
number  of  post-horses  ;  (2)  that  the  lawful  charge  for  the 
hire  of  each  horse  should  be,  for  public  messengers,  at  the 
rate  of  2 Jd.  a  mile,  "  besides  the  guides'  groats,"  private 
travellers  being  left  to  make  their  own  agreements.  Fin- 
ally, it  was  directed  that  every  postmaster  should  keep  at 
least  two  horses  for  the  express  conveyance  of  Government 
letters,  and  should  forward  such  letters  within  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  of  their  receipt,  and  that  the  posts  should  travel 
at  the  rate  of  not  less  than  7  miles  an  hour  in  summer 
and  5  miles  in  winter.^ 

In  1607  the  king  granted  to  James  Stanhope,  first  Lord 
Stanhope  of  Harrington,  and  to  his  son  Charles  Stanhope, 
afterwards  second  Lord  Stanhope,  jointly  and  to  the  sur- 
vivor of  them,  the  postmastership  of  England  under  the 
title  of  "  Master  of  the  Posts  and  Messengers,"  with  a  fee 
of  100  marks  a  year,  together  with  all  "avails  and  profits" 
belonging  to  the  office.  In  1619  a  separate  office  of  '■  post- 
master-general of  England  for  foreign  parts  "  was  created, 
by  new  letters  patent,  in  favour  of  Matthew  de  Quester  ^ 
and  Matthew  de  Quester  the  younger.  The  new  office 
was  regarded  by  the  existing  postmaster-general,  Charles, 
Lord  Stanhope,  as  an  infringement  of  his  own  patent.  A 
long  dispute  ensued  in  the  King's  Bench  and  before  the 
Lords  of  the  Council.*  In  1626  by  an  order  in  council 
liberty  was  granted  to  all  companies  of  merchants,  includ- 
ing the  Merchants  Adventurers,  to  send  their  letters 
and  despatches  by  messengers  of  their  own  choosing.  A 
year  afterwards  this  liberty  was  revoked,  except  for  the 
Company  of  Merchants  Adventurers.  Lord  Stanhope, 
however,  continued  to  carry  letters  abroad  by  his  agents, 
and  obtained  a  warrant  prohibiting  Do  Quester  from 
interfering.  It  shows  strikingly  the  confusion  of  postal 
affairs  at  this  period  to  find  a  statement  addressed  to 
the  privy  council  by  the  postmasters  of  England  to  the 
effect  that  they  had  received  no  payments  "  ever  since 
the  last  day  of  November  1621  till  this  present  time, 
June  1628,"— the  arrears  amounting  to  £22,626. 

The  rights  of  the  postmasters  were  also  infringed  by 
private  individuals,  as  by  one  Samuel  Jude  in  1629  in  the 
west  of  England."  In  1632  the  foreign  postmastership 
was  assigned  by  the  De  Questers  to  WiUiam  Frizell  and 


'  Kennedy,  Annals  of  Aberdeen,  voL  i.  p.  262. 

'  Book  of  Proclamations,  p.  67  (S.  P.  0. ;  now  in  Rolls  House)  ; 
tUpoTt  fronn  the  Secret  Committee  on  the  Posl-OJJice,  1844,  Appendix, 
pp.  38-40. 

'  Or  "  De  I'Equester,"  as  he  ia  called  in  Latch's  Keporta  of  King's 
Bench  Cases,  p.  87. 

*  These  disputes  were  much  embittered  by  the  growing  jealousies  of 
English  against  foreign  merchants.  The  proofs  of  this  in  the  state 
correspondence  of  Elizabeth's  day  are  abundant,  but  there  were  many 
statesmen  who  took  larger  views.  See,  c.y.,  John  Johnson's  "Brief 
Declaration  for  the  ,  .  .  erecting  and  maintaining  of  the  Staple  .  ,  . 
lu  England"  (Juno  1582),  Dam.  Corresp.  Eliz.,  c\\y.,  No.  30;  and 
compare  the  same  writer's  "  Discourse  for  tlie  repairing  the  decayed 
State  of  the  Merchants,"  Sc.  (22d  July  1577),  ib.,  cxiv.,  No.  39, 
with  Leake's  "  Discourse,"  &c.,  of  the  same  year  (ib.,  cxi.  1  sq.),  and 
Willi  John  Uales's  "Letter  to  Sir  W.  Cecil"  (20th  March  1559),  ib., 
iii.,  where  ha  fV^cribes  the  merchant  strangers  as  being  "spies  for 
foreign  princes, ~ and  with  Cecil's  "Reasons  to  move  a  Forbearing  of 
the  Restitution  of  the  Intercourse  to  Antwerp"  (16C4),  ib.,  xzxv., 
JIo.  33  (in  Rolls  House). 

'  See  Aiudytical  Index  to  the  Rememl/rancia,  418,  as  quoted  by  H. 
■p.  Whcatley  in  the  Acadany  of  27lli  Dtccmbcr  1879,  p.  4G4. 


Thomas  Witherings.  Letters-patent  were  granted  to  theni 
jointly,  15th  March  1633.^  Witherings  took  the  labour- 
ing oar,  and  probably  ought  to  rank  as  the  first  of  the 
many  conspicuous  postal  reformers  in  the  long  history  of 
the  British  post-office.  Under  him  one  Richard  Poole 
obtained  a  special  postmastership  for  the  service  of  the 
court.  A  petition  subsequently  presented  by  him  to  the 
House  of  Lords  contains  curious  proof  of  the  jealousies 
which  Witherings's  successfid  administration  of  his  office 
excited.  Among  the  earliest  measures  of  improvement 
taken  -under  the  new  patent  was  an  acceleration  of  the 
Continental  mail  service.  For  this  purpose  the  patentees 
made  a  contract  with  the  count  of  Thurn  and  Taxis,  here" 
ditary  postmaster  of  the  empire  and  of  Spain.  At  this 
time  there  was  still  but  one  mail  weekly  between  London, 
Antwerp,  and  Brussels,  and  the  transit  occupied  from 
four  to  five  days.  By  a  subsequent  contract  with  Count 
Thurn  two  mails  weekly  were  secured  and  the  transit  made 
ordinarily  in  two  days.^  In  June  1635  Witherings  sub- 
mitted to  the  king  a  proposal  (still  preserved  in  the  State-" 
Paper  Office)  "for  settling  of  staffets  or  pacquet-[}Osts 
betwixt  London  and  all  parts  of  His  Majesty's  dominions, 
for  the  carrying  and  re-carrying  of  his  subjects'  letters," 
which  contains  some  curious  incidental  notices  of  the  state 
of  the  internal  communication  of  the  kingdom  at  that 
time.  The  nett  charge  to  the  crown  of  the  existing  posts 
is  stated  to  be  ^£3100  per  annum.  Letters,  it  is  said, 
"being  now  carried  by  carriers  or  footposts  16  or  18  miles 
a  day,  it  is  full  two  months  before  any  answer  can  be 
received  from  Scotland  or  Ireland  to  London.  If  any  of 
His  Majesty's  subjects  shall  write  to  Madrid  in  Spain,  he 
shall  receive  answer  sooner  and  surer  than  he  shsll  out  of 
Scotland  or  Ireland."  By  the  new  plan  it  was  proposed 
that  all  letters  for  the  northern  road  should  be  put  into' 
one  "  portmantle,"  and  directed  to  Edinburgh,  with  sopartvte 
bags  directed  to  such  postmasters  as  lived  upon  the  road 
near  to  any  city  or  town  corporate.  The  journey  from 
London  to  Edinburgh  was  to  be  performed  within  three 
days.  The  scheme  was  approved  of  on  31st  July  1635, 
the  proclamation  establishing  eight  main  postal  lines, ^^ 
namely,  the  great  northern  road,  to  Ireland  by  Holyhead, 
to  Ireland  by  Bristol,  to  the  marches  of  Wales  by  Shrews-' 
bury,  to  Plymouth,  to  Dover,  to  Harwich,  and  to  Yarmouth.' 
The  postage  of  a  single  letter  was  fixed  at  2d.  if  under  80 
miles,  4d.  if  between  80  and  140  miles,  6d.  if  above  140 
miles,  8d.  if  to  Scotland.  And  it  was  furtjier  provided 
that  from  the  beginning  of  this  service  no  other  messengers 
or  footposts  should  carry  letters  to  any  places  so  provided, 
except  common  kno\vn  carriers,  or  a  particular  messenger 
"  sent  on  purpose  with  a  fetter  by  any  man  for  his  oW 
occasions,"  or  a  letter  by  a  friend,  on  pain  of  exemplary 
punishment.^  In  February  1638  another  royal  proclama- 
tion ratified  an  agreement  between  Witherings  and  De 
Noveau,  postmaster  to  the  French  king,  for  the  convey-' 
ance  of  the  malls  into  France  by  Calais,  Boulogne,  Abbe- 
ville, and  Amiens." 

But  in  1640  the  active  postmaster  was  accused  of  divers 
abuses  and  misdemeanours,  and  bis  office  sequestrated  into 
the  hands  of  Philip  Burlamachi  of  London,  merchant,  who 
was  to  execute  the  same  under  the  inspection  of  the  prin- 
cipal secretary  of  state.'"  Witherings  then  assigned  his 
patent  to  Robert  Rich,  carl  of  Warwick,  and  a  long  contest 


'  Minute  in  "House  of  Lords'  Papers"  (1633),  Fourth  Report  of 
Hist.  MSS.  Commission,  1874,  App.  The  papers  there  calendared 
contain  many  proofs  of  Witherings's  activity  and  ability.  See  also 
appendix  to  ICiflh  Report,  1875,  and  "A  proclamation  concerning 
the  Postmaster  of  England  for  Forraigno  Ports"  (19th  July  1932),  In 
Rymer's  Fadera,  xix.  385. 

'  Egerton  MS.  (Brit  Mus.).  No.  2543.  f.  5  sg. 

•  Rymer,  Fadera,  xix.  649.  »  fhid.,  xx.  192. 

'0  Rnd..  XX.  429. 


564 


POST-OFFICE 


[histoet. 


ensued  in  both  Houses  of  Parliament.  The  sequestration 
was  declared  by  a  vote  in  parliament  in  1642  to  be  illegal. 
[Nevertheless  the  dispute  gave  repeated  occupation  to  both 
llouses  during  the  period  from  1641  to  1647,  and  was 
diversified  by  several  affrays,  in  which  violent  hands  were 
laid  upon  the  mails.  In  1643  the  post-ofiice  yielded  only 
£5000  ^  year.  In  1644  the  Lords  and  Commons  by  a 
joint  ordinance  appointed  Edmund  Prideaui  "to  be  master 
of  the  posts,  messengers,  and  couriers."  In  1646  the 
opinion  of  the  judges  was  taken  on  the  validity  of  Wither- 
ings's  patent  (assigned  to  Lord  Warwick),  and  they  pro- 
nounced that  "  the  clauses  of  restraint  in  the  said  patent 
are  void  and  rtot  good  in  law ;  that,  notwithstanding  these 
clauses  be  void,  the  patent  is  good  for  the  rest."  ^  It  is 
evident,  therefore,  that  any  prohibition  to  carry  letters 
must  be  by  Act  of  Parliament,  to  have  force  of  law. 

In  1650  an  attempt  was  made  by  the  common  council 
'of  London  to  organize  a  new  postal  system  on  the  great 
roads,  to  run  twice  a  week.  This  scheme  they  temporarily 
carried  into  effect  as  respects  Scotland.  But  Mr  Attorney- 
.General  Prideaux  speedily  obtained  the  intervention  of 
the  council  of  state.  He  urged  on  the  council  of  state 
that,  if  the  new  enterprise  were  permitted,  besides  in- 
trenching on  the  rights  of  the  parliament,  some  other 
(means  would  have  to  be  devised  for  payment  of  the  post- 
masters. Both  Houses  resolved  (1)  that  the  offices  of 
postmasters,  inla«d  and  foreign,  were,  and  ought  to  be,  in 
the  sole  power  and  disposal  of  the  parliament,  .and  (2) 
that  it  should  be  referred  to  the  council  of  state  to  take 
[into  consideration  all  existing  claims  in  relation  thereto. 
Of  these  there  were  no  less  than  five  under  the  various 
patents  which  had  been  granted  and  assigned.  There- 
upon the  Protector  was  advised  that  the  management  of  the 
post-office  should  be  entrusted  to  John  Thurloe  by  patent 
under  the  broad  seal  of  the  Commonwealth  immediately 
upon  the  expiration  of  John  Manley's  existing  contract. 
Thurloe  was  to  give  security  for  payment  of  the  existing 
rent  of  £10,000  a  year.  Ultimately  the  posts,  both  inland 
and  foreign,  were  farmed  to  John  Manley  for  £10,000  a 
year,  by  an  agreement  made  in  1653.  Meanwhile,  and 
|)ending  the  decision  of  the  council  upon  the  question  so 
eubmitted  to  it,  a  remarkable  step  in  postal  reform  was 
taken  by  an  attorney  at  York,  named  John  Hill,  who 
^placed  relays  of  post-horses  between  that  city  and  London, 
.and  imdertook  the  conveyance  of  letters  and  parcels  at 
half  the  former  rates  of  charge.  He  also  formed  local  and 
limited  partnerships  in  various  parts  of  the  kingdom  for 
the  extension  of  his  plan,  which  aimed  to  establish  event- 
Wily  a  general  penny  postage  for  England,  a  twopenny 
postage  for  Scotland,  and  a  fourpenny  postage  for  Ireland. 
But  the  post-office  was  looked  upon  by  the  Government  of 
the  day  as,  first,  a  means  of  revenue,  and  secondly,  a  means 
of    political    espionage.-      The   new   letter-carriers   were 

>  Journals  of  the  House  of  Commons,  ii.  81,  82,  95,  470,  493,  600, 
601,  658  sq.  ;  Journals  of  the  House  of  Lords,  v.  343,  387,  450,  469- 
473,  500  sq.  ;  Report  from  Secret  Committee  on  the  Post-Office, 
Appendix,  60-69. 

-  Some  instructive  illustrations  of  this  may  te  seen  (in  the  state- 
paper  department  of  the  General  Record  Office)  among  the  correspond- 
ence between  secretary  Sir  John  Coke  and  Lord  Conway,  and  also  iq 
Jnany  other  state  letters,  as  well  after  the  outbreak  of  the  great  rebel- 
lion as  before  it.  And  tliere  is  in  the  Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford  (MS. 
Slawlinson,  A.  477)  a  curiously  minute  account  of  the  methods  alleged 
to  have  been  pursued  in  the  systematic  and  periodical  examination  of 
letters  entrusted  to  the  post-office.  The  paper  is  not  authenticated 
by  any  signature,  and  is  undated.  But  it  is  an  original  document 
of  the  time  of  Charles  II.,  addressed  to  Mr  Bridgman,  clerk  of  the 
jcouncij,  and  drawn  up  in  order  to  recommend  the  adoption  of  a  like 
practice,  but  with  greater  dexterity  in  the  manipulation  than  was 
|us8d  by  Dr  Dorislaus  and  Samuel  Morland,  who,  according  to  this 
Siarrative,  formed  the  Cromwellian  board  of  examiners  for  post-ofBce 
Setters,  and  who  read  without  exception  all  that  were  addressed  tQ 
Ioi«ign  parts. 


(literally)  "  trampled  down  "  by  Cromwell's  soldiery.  The 
inventor  had  a  narrow  escape  from  severe  punishment.  He 
lived  to  publish  (1659)  the  details  of  his  plan,  at  the  eve  of 
the  Restoration,  in  a  pamphlet  entitled  A  Fenny  Post:  or 
a  Vindication  of  the  Liberty  and  Birthright  of  every  English- 
man in  carrying  Merchants  and  other  Man's  letters,  against 
any  Restraint  of  Farmers,  &c.  It.  is  very  probable  that  thia 
publication  '  helped  to  prepare  the  way  for  those  measures 
of  partial  but  valuable  and  far-reaching  reform  which 
were  effected  during  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  The  rates  of 
postage  and  the  rights  and  duties  of  postmasters  were 
settled  under  the  Protectorate  by  an  Act  of  Parliament  of 
1657,  c.  30.  In  1659  the  item,  "by  postage  of  letters  in'; 
farm,  £14,000,"  appears  in  a  report  on  the  public  revenue.*)? 

The  Government  of  the  Restoration  continued  to  farm  i 
the  post-office  upon  conditions  very  similar  to  those  im-' 
posed  by  the  Act  of  1657,  but  for  a  larger  sum.  Henry 
Bishop  was  the  first  postmaster-general  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  II.,  and  he  contracted  to  pay  to  the  king  a  yearly 
rent  of  £21,500,  these  new  arrangements  being  embodied 
in  the  Act  12  Charles  II.  c.  35,  entitled  "An  Act  for 
Erecting  and  Establishing  a  Post-Office."  A  clause  pro- 
posing to  frank  all  letters  addressed  to  or  sent  by  members 
of  parliament  during  the  session  was,  after  considerable 
debate,  ultimately  rejected  by  the  Lords.  But  the  indent- 
ure enrolled  with  the  letters -patent  contained  a  proviso 
for  the  free  carriage  of  all  letters  to  or  from  the  king,  the 
great  officers  of  state,  and  also  the  single  inland  letters 
only  of  the  members  of  that  present  parliament  during 
the  continuance  of  that  session.  It  also  provided  that  the 
lessee  should  permit  the  secretaries  of  state  for  the  time 
being,  or  either  of  them,  from  time  to  time,  to  have  the 
survey  and  inspection  of  all  letters  at  their  discretion. 
Bishop  was  succeeded  by  Daniel  O'Neill^  in  1662,  on 
similar  terms.  In  the  consequent  proclamation,  issued  on 
25th  May  1663,  it  was  commanded  that  "no  postmasters 
or  other  officers  that  shall  be  employed  in  the  convejring 
of  letters,  or  distributing  of  the  same,  or  any  other  person 
or  persons,  .  .  .  except  by  the  immediate  warrant  of  our 
principal  secretaries  of  state,  shall  presume  to  open  any 
letters  or  pacquets  not  directed  unto  themselves."  In 
1677  the  general  post-office  comprised  in  the  chief  office, 
under  Henry  Bennet,  earl  of  Arlington,  as  postmaster- 
general,  seventy-five  persons,  and  its  profits  were  farmed 
for  £43,000  a  year.  There  were  then  throughout  England 
and  Scotland  182  deputy  postmasters,  and  in  Ireland  18 
officers  at  the  Dublin  office  and  45  country  postmasters. 
"  The  number  of  letters  missive,"  says  a  writer  of  the 
same  year,  "is  now  prodigiously  great.  ...  A  letter  com- 
prising one  whole  sheet  of  paper  is  conveyed  80  miles  'or 
twopence.  Every  twenty -four  hours  the  post  goes  1 20 
miles,  and  in  five  days  an  answer  may  be  had  from  a  place 
300  miles  distant."** 

By  an  Act  of  the  1 5th  Charles  II.  ("  An  Act  for  Settling 
the  Profits  of  the  Post-Office  on  H.R.H.  the  Duke  of  York, 
and  his  Heirs-Male "),  and  by  a  subsequent  proclamation 
issued  in  August  1683,  it  was  directed  that  the  postmaster- 
general  should  "take  effectual  care  for  the  conveyance  of 
all  bye-letters,  by  establishing  correspondences  ...  in  all 
considerable  market-towns  with  the  next  adjacent  post- 
stage,"  and  the  rights  of  the  postmasters  as  to  hiring 
horses  were  again  emphasized. 


'.There  is  a  copy  in  the  library  of  the  British  Museum,  from  which 
Mr  H.  B.  Wheatley  has  given  the  al^stract  quoted  above. 

*  Journals  of  the  House  of  Commons,  vii.  627 

'*,  The  trusted  friend  but  not  always  the  trusted  adviser  of  the  duke 
of  Ormonde.  O'Neill's  correspondence  exists  among  the  duke's  papers, 
in  part  at  Kilkenny  Castle,  in  part  (extensively)  amongst  the  Carte 
MSS.  in  the  Bodleian  ;  and  it  abounds  in  incidental  illustrations  of 
postal  administration  in  both  England  and  Ireland. 

«  Quoted  in  Qent.  Mag,  (1815),  xxrv.  pp.  309,  310, 


1533-1836.] 


P  O  S  T-0  F  F  I  c  ij; 


565 


It  was  during  tne  possession  of  the  post-ofiBce  profits  by 
the  duke  of  York  that  a  London  penny  post  was  estab- 
lished by  the  joint  enterprise  of  William  Dockwra,  a 
searcher  at  the  customs  house,  and  of  Robert  Murray,  a 
clerk  in  the  excise  office.  The  working-out  of  the  plan 
fell  to  the  first-named,  and  in  his  hands  it  gave  in  April 
1680-'-although  but  for  a  short  time — far  more  extensive 
postal  facilities  to  the  Londoners  than  even  those  so 
merr-srably  afforded  160  years  later  by  the  plans  of  Sir 
Rowland  Hill.  The  London  of  that  day  was  small,  and 
easily  manageable.  Dockwra. carried,  registered,  and  in- 
tured,  for  a  penny,  both  letters  and  parcels  up  to  a  pound 
pi  weight  and  £10  in  value.  He  took  what  had  been  the 
toansion  of  Sir  Robert  Abdy  in  Lime  Street  as  a  chief 
office,  established  seven  sorting  and  district  offices  (thus 
anticipating  one  of  the  most  recent  improvements  of  the 
present  time)  and  between  400  and  500  receiving-houses 
and  wall-boxes  He  established  hourly  collections,  with  a 
paximum  of  ten  deliveries  daily  for  the  central  part  of  the 
city,  and  a  minimum  of  six  for  the  suburbs.  Outlying 
jvillages,  such  as  Hackney  and  Islington,  had  four  daily 
deliveries;  and  his  letter-carriers  collected  for  each  despatch 
pi  the  general  post-office  throughout  the  whole  of  the  city 
and  suburbs.  Suits  were  laid  against  him  in  the  court  of 
King's  Bench  for  infringing  on  the  duke  of  York's  patent, 
and  the  jealousies  of  the  farmers  eventually  prevailed. 
The  penny  post  was  made  a  branch  of  the  general  post. 
Dockwra,  after  the  Revolution  of  1688,  obtained  a  pension 
of  £500  a  year  (for  a  limited  term)  in  compensation  of 
his  losses.  In  1697  he  was  made  comptroller  of  the 
London  office.  Eleven  years  later  his  improvements  were 
'outvied  by  Charles  Povey,  the  author  of  schemes  for  im- 
proving coinage,  and  also  of  a  very  curious  volume,  often 
.wrongly  ascribed  to  Defoe,  entitled  The  Visions  of  Sir 
Heister  Ryley.  Povey  took  upon  himself  to  set  up  a  foot- 
post  under  the  name  of  the  "  halfpenny  carriage,"  appointed 
receiving-houses,  and  employed  several  persons  to  collect 
and  deliver  letters  for  hire  williin  the  cities  of  London  and 
Westminster  and  borough  of  Southwark,  "  to  the  great 
prejudice  of  the  revenue,"  as  was  represented  by  the  post- 
master-general to  the  lords  of  the  treasury.  Povey  was 
compelled  to  desist. 

At  this  period  the  postal  system  cf  Scotland  was  distinct  from 
that  of  England.  It  had  been  reorganized  early  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  II.,  who  in  September  1662  had  appointed  Patrick  Grahame 
*f  Inchbrakie  to  be  postmaster-general  of  Scotland  for  life  at  a 
»alary  of  £500  Scots.  But  it  would  seem  from  the  proceedings  of 
the  Scottish  privy  council  that  the  rights  and  duties  of  the  office 
were  ill  defined  ;  for  immediately  after  the  appointment  of  Grahamo 
the  council  commissioned  Robert  Mcin,  merchant  and  keeper  of  the 
letter-office  in  Edinburgh,  to  establish  posts  between  Scotland  and 
Ireland,  ordained  that  Linlithgow,  Kilsyth,  Glasgow,  Kilmarnock, 
Dnmboag,  Ballantrae,  and  Portpatrick  should  be  sLiges  on  the 
loiite,  and  granted  him  the  sum  of  £200  sterling  to  build  a  packet- 
.boat  to  cany  the  mail  from  Portpatrick  to  Donaghadee.' 
,  The  colonial  jpost-ofhce  at  this  period  was  naturally  more  rudi- 
mentary still.  Perhaps  the  earliest  official  notice  of  it  is  to  be  seen 
in  the  following  paragraph  from  the. records  of  the  general  court  of 
Massachusetts  in  1639.  "It  is  ordered  tliat  notice  be  given  that 
Richard  Fairbanks  his  house  in  Boston  is  the  place  appointed  for 
kU  letters  which  are  brought  from  beyond  the  seas,  or  are  to  be 
>cnt  tliither  to  be  left  with  him  ;  ami  he  is  to  take  care  that  they 
re  to  bo  delivered  or  sent  according  to  the  directions ;  and  he  is 
Uowed  for  every  letter  a  penny,  and  must  answer  all  miscarriages 
tluough  his  own  neglect  in  this  kind."  That  court  in  1667  was 
petitioned  to  make  better  postal  arrangements,  the  petitioners 
dlleging  the  frcnucnt  "  loss  ol  letters  whereby  merchants,  especially 
Vitli  tlieir  friends  ami  employers  in  foreign  parts,  are  greatly  dam- 
nified ;  many  times  the  letters  are  imputed  (!)  and  thrown  upon 
the  E.\change,  so  that  those  who  w  ill  may  take  them  U)i,  no  person, 
without  sonic  satisfaction,  being  willing  to  trouble  their  houses 
therewith."  In  Virginia  the  postal  .system  was  yet  more  jirimitive. 
The  colonial  law  of  Xdlu  required  every  planter  to  provide  a  messen- 
ger to  convey  the  despatches  as  they  arrived  to  the  ne.^t  plantation. 
«»d  80  on,  on  pain  of  forfeiting  a  hogshead  of  tobacco  in  default. 

Tjaii;:,  llistorkal  Sinntnuri/  of  llic  /'ost-OO^ce  'n  Scotland.  4,  5. 


The  Government  of  New  York  in  1672  established  "a  post  to  go« 
monthly  from  New  York  to  Boston,"  advertising  "those  that  be* 
disposed  to  send  letters,  to  bring  them  to  the  secretary's  ofBce.l 
where,  in  a  lockt  box,  they  shall  be  preserved  till  the  messenger 
calls  for  them,  all  persons  paying  the  post  before  the  bagg  be  aealeU 
up."-  Thirty  years  later  this  monthly  post  h^d  become  a  fort, 
■nightly  one,  as  we  see  by  the  following  paragraph  iu  the  Boston 
News- Letter.  "By  order  of  the  postmaster-general  of  North 
America.  These  are  to  give  notice.  That  on  Monday  night,  th^ 
6th  of  December,  the  Western  Post  betwi!n;3  Boston  and  New  Yorle 
seta  out  once  a  fortnight,  the  three  winter  months  of  December, 
January,  and  February,  and  to  go  alternately  from  Boston  to  Say« 
brook,  and  Hartford,  to  exchange  the  mayle  of  letters  with  th« 
New  York  Ryder  ;  the  first  turn  for  Saybrook,  to  meet  the  New 
York  Ryder  on  Saturday  night  the  11th  currant ;  and  the  s€con4 
turn  he  sets  out  at  Boston  on  Monday  night  the  20th  currant,  to 
meet  the  New;  Y'ork  Ryder  at  Hartford,  on  Saturday  night  the  25th' 
currant,  to  exchange  Mayles  ;  and  all  persons  that  sends  letter^ 
from  Boston  to  Connecticut  from  and  after  the  13th  inst.  are  hereby 
notified  first  to  pay  the  Postage  on  the  same."*  This  office  of  post^ 
master-general  for  America  had  been  created  in  1692. 

We  have  now  traced  the  postal  communications  of  dif- 
ferent portions  of  the  British  empire  from  their  earliest 
beginnings  until  the  eve  of  the  passing  of  the  Act  of 
the  9th  of  Queen  Anne  which  consolidated  them  into  one 
establishment,  and  which,  as  to  organization,  continued  to 
be  the  great  charter  of  the  post-office  until  the  date  of  the 
important  reforms  of  1838-50,  mainly  introduced  by  the 
energy,  skill,  and  characteristic  pertinacity  of  Sir  Rowland 
Hill.  The  Act  of  Anne  largely  increased  the  powers  of  the' 
postmaster-general.  It  reorganized  the  chief  letter-office*! 
of  Edinburgh,  Dublin,  and  New  York,  and  settled  neW 
offices  in  the  West  Indies  and  elsewhere.  It  established  ^ 
three  rates  of  single  postage,  viz.,  English,  3d.  if  under ' 
80  miles  and  4d.  if  above,  and  6d.  to  Edinburgh  or 
Dublin.  It  continued  to  the  postmaster-general  the  sole 
privilege  "  to  provide  horses  to  persons  riding  post."  And 
it  gave,  for  the  first  time,  parliamentary  sanction  to  the 
power,  formerly  questionable,  of  the  secretaries  of  state' 
with  respect  to  the  opening  of  letters,  by  enacting  that 
"from  and  after  the  first  day  of  June  1711  no  person  ot* 
persons  shall  presume  ...  to  open,  detain,  or  delay  .  .  4 
any  letter  or  letters  .  .  .  after  the  same  is  or  shall  be 
delivered  into  the  general  or  other  post-office,  .  .  .  and 
before  delivery  to  the  persons  to  whom  they  are  directed,' 
or  for  their  use,  except  by  an  express  xvarrant  in  writing 
under  the  hand  of  one  of  the  principal  secretaries  of_  state} 
for  every  such  opening,  detaining,  or  delaying." 

Nine  years  after  the  passing  of  the  Act  of  Anne  tha 
cross-posts  were  farmed  to  the  well-known  '.' humble  1 
Ralph  Allen, — the  lover  of  peace  and  of  humanity.^ 
Allen  became  the  inventor  of  the  cross-roads  postal  system, 
having  made  an  agreement  that  the  new  profits  so  created 
should  bo  his  own  during  his  lifetime.  His  improvements 
were  so  successful  that  he  is  said  to  have  netted  during 
forty-two  years  an  average  profit  of  nearly  £12,000  a  year.; 

The  postal  revenue  of  Great  Britain,  meanwhile,  8too4 
thus : — 


Tahi-f. 

I.— Gross  and  Nclt  Income,  1724-1774. 

Gross  Produce. 

^>tt  Revenue. 

£        s.     d. 

£         «.    d. 

1724 

178,071   16     9 

96,339     7     5 

1734 

176,334     3     1 

91,701   11     0 

1744 

194,461      8     7 

8.''>,114     9     4 

i7r.4 

214,300   10     8 

97,365     6     1 

17(54 

221,326     I     8 

116,182     8     5 

1774 

313,032  14     6 

164,077     8     4 

-  Miles,  "History  of  the  Post -Office,"  in  the  American  Banker'4 
Mitgaziite,  r.  s.,  vii.  S.'iS  sj. 

'  Buckingham,  SjieciiiiciiS  0/  Xcwspaixr  Littralure  {Boitoa,  1860)< 
i.  16.  17. 

*  "Is  there  a  vari.mcc  ?  enter  but  his  door. 

Balked  arc  the  courts  ;  the  contest  is  no  more.' 
Pope.'s, "huiiible  Allen','  was  aUo  the  "  AUworthy  "  of  FifMing.. 


566 


POST-OFFICE 


[hisioey. 


The  system  of  burdening  the  post-office  revenue  vnia  pensions,' 
nearly  all  of  which  had  not  the  slightest  connex^ii  -n-ith  the  postal 
service,  and  some  of -which  were  unconnected  witn  iiiy  sort  of  service 
that  can  possibly  be  called  public,  was  begun  by  Charles  II.,  who 
granted  to  Barbara,  duchess  of  Cleveland,  £4700  a  year,  and  to  the 
earl  of  Rochester  £4000  a  year,  out  of  that  revenue.  The  example 
was  followed  until,  in  1694,  the  list  of  pensions  so  chargeable  stood 
thus : — 


Earl  of  Rochester £4,000 

Duchess  of  Cleveland '     4,700 

DakeofLeeds 3,500 

Duke  of  Schombere 4,000 

EariotBath 2,600 


Lord  Keeper -  £2,000 

William  Dockwra  (onta  1697) ,   600 


Total    £21,200 


Queen  Anne  granted  a  jiension  of  £5000  to  the  duke  of  Marl- 
borough, charged  in  like  manner.  In  March  1857  the  existing 
pensions  ceased  to  be  payable  by  the  post-office,  and  became  charge- 
able to  the  consolidated  fund. 

The  first  important  and  enduring  impulse  to  the  develop- 
ment of  tho  latent  powers  of  the  post-ofEce,  both  as  a 
public  agency  aad  as  a  source  of  revenue,  was  given  by 
the  shrewdness  and  energy  of  the  manager  of  the  Bath 
.theatre,  John  P^mer.  Palmer's  notice  was  attracted  to 
the  subject  in  October  1782.  His  avocations  had  made 
him  familiar  with  that  great  western  road  which  was  still 
in  such  peculiar  favour,  alike  with  people  of  fashion  and 
with  the  gentlemen  of  the  highway.  So  habitual  were 
the  robberies  of  the  post  that  they  came  to  be  regarded 
by  its  ofhcials  as  among  the  necessary  conditions  of  human 
affairs.  They  urged  on  the  public  the  precaution  of  send- 
ing all  bank-notes  and  bills  of  exchange  in  halves,  and 
pointed  the  warning  with  a  philosophical  remark,  that 
"t/tere  are  no  other  means  of  preventing  robberies  with  effect, 
as  it  has  been^  proved  that  the  strongest  carts  that  could 
be  made,  lined  and  bound  with  iron,  were  soon  broken 
open  by  a  robber." 

At  this  period,  in  addition  to  the  recognized  perils  of 
the  roads,  the  postal  system  was  characterized  by  extreme 
irregularity  in  the  departure  of  mails  and  delivery  of 
letters,  by  an  average  speed  of  about  3|^  miles  in  the 
hour,  and  by  a  rapidly-increasing  diversion  of  correspond- 
ence into  illicit  channels.  The  nett  revenue,  which  had 
iveraged  £167,176  during  the  ten  years  ending  with  1773, 
averaged  but  £159,625  during  the  ten  years  ending  with 
1 783.  Yet,  when  Palmer  suggested  that  by  building  mail- 
coaches  of  a  construction  expressly  adapted  to  run  at  a 
good  speed,  by  furnishing  a  liberal  supply  of  horses,  and  by 
attaching  an  armed  guard  to  each  coach  the  public  would 
be  gTiatly  benefited,  and  the  post-office  revenue  consider- 
ably increased,  the  officials  pertinaciously  opposed  the  plan 
and  maintained  that  the  existing  system  was  all  but  perfect. 
Lord  Camden,  however,  brought  the  plan  under  the  personal 
notice  of  Pitt.  No  sooner  was  the  minister  convinced  of 
its  merits  than  he  insisted  on  its  being  tried.  The  experi- 
ment was  made  in  August  1784,  and  its  success  exceeded 
all  anticipation.  The  foUowing  table  will  show  the  rapid 
progress  of  the  postal  revenue  under  the  new  arrangements. 

Table  II.— Gross  and  Nelt  Income,  1784-1805. 


Tear. 

Gross  Income. 

Nett  Revenue. 

1784  

£         s.     d. 
420,101     1     8 
463,753    8     4 
533,198     1     9 
745,238     0     0 
1,083,950     0     0 
1,317,842     0     0 

£         s.     d. 
196,513  16    7 

261,409  18     2 
331,179  18     8 
414,548  11     7 
720,981  17  ■  1 
944,382     8     4 

1785  

1790  

1795  

ISOO  

1805  

It  had  been  at  first  proposed  to  reward  Palmer  by  a 
gi-ant  for  life  of  two  and  a  half  per  cent,  on  a  certain 
proportion  of  the  increased  nett  revenue,  which  would 
eventually  have  given  him  some  £10,000  a  year;  but 
this  proposition  fell  through,  in  consequence  either  of 
technical  difficulties  created  by  the  Post-Office  Act  or  of 
the  opposition  of  ths  post-office  authorities.     Pit...  how- 


ever, appointed  Palmer  to  be  comptroller-general  of  postal 
revenues,  an  office  which  was  soon  made  too  hot  for  him 
to  hold.  He  obtained  a  pension  of  £3000  a  year,  and 
ultimately,  by  the  Act  53  Geo.  III.  c.  157,  after  his  case 
had  received  the  sanction  of  five  successive  majoritisa 
agaiost  Government,  an  additional  sum  of  £50,000.  Every 
sort  of  obstruction  was  placed  in  the  way  of  his  reward, 
although  nearly  a  million  had  been  added  to  the  annual 
public  revenue,  and .  during  a  quarter  of  a  century  the 
mails  •  had'  been  ,  convej'ed  over  an  aggregate  of  some 
seventy  millions  of  miles  without  the  occurrence  of  one 
serious  mail  robbery.^  i 

Scotland  shared  in  tho  advantages  of  tho  mail-coach  system  &om' 
the  first.  Shortly  before  its  introduction  the  local  penny  post  was 
set  on  foot  in  Edinburgh  by  Peter  W'Oliamson,  the  keeper  of  a 
coffee-room  in  the  hall  of  Parliament  House.  He  employed  four 
letter-carriers,  in  uniform,  appointed  receivers  in  various  parts  of 
the  city,  and  established  hourly  deliveries.^  The  officials  of  the 
post,  when  the  success  of  the  plan  had  become  fully  apparent,  gave 
Williamson  a  pension,  and  absorbed  his  business,  the  acquisition 
of  which  was  subsequently  confirmed  by  the  Act  34  Geo.  III.  a' 
17.  A  dead-letter  office  was  established  in  1784.  The  entire  staff 
of  the  Edinburgh  post-office,  which  consisted  in  1708  of  seven 
persons,  now  comprised  twenty-five,  the  cost  of  the  office  being 
£1406.  In  1796  the  number  of  functionaries  had  increased  to  forty, 
and  the  cost  to  £3278.'  But  in  Ireland  the  old  state  of  things  con- 
tinued until  the  present  century.  In  1801  only  three  publia 
carriages  in  the  whole  country  conveyed  irails.  There  were,  indeed, 
few.  roads  of  any  sort,  and  none  on  which  coaches  could  travel  fastei 
than  four  miles  an  hour.*  At  this  period  the  gi'oss  receipts  of  the 
Irish  post-office  were  £80,040  ;  the  charges  of  management  and 
collection  were  £59,216,  or  at  the  rate  of  more  than  70  per  cent.  ; 
whilst  in  Scotland  the  receipts  were  £100,551,  and  the  charges 
£16,896,  or  somewhat  less  than  17  per  cent.' 

In  the  American  colonies  postal  improvements  may  be  dated  fromi 
the  administration  of  Franklin,  who  was  virtually  the  list  coloniai 
postmaster -general,  as  well  as  unquestionably  the  best.  In  one 
shape  or  another  he  had  forty  years'  experience  of  postal  work,  hav- 
ing been  appointed  postmaster  at  Philadelphia  as  early  as  October 
1737.  When  he  became  postmaster-general  in  1753  he  bestirres 
himself  for  the  improvement  of  his  department  in  that  practice 

Eainstaking  way  with  which  he  was  wont  to  guide  any  plough  he 
ad  once  put  his  hand  to,  whatever  the  ground  it  had  to  work  in. 
He  visited  all  the  chief  post-offices  throughout  Pennsylvania,  New 
Jersey,  New  York,  and  New  England,  looking  at  everything  with 
his  own  eyes.  His  administration  cannot  be  better  summed  up 
than  we  find  it  to  be  in  a  sentence  or  two  which  he  wrote  £oon 
after  his  dismissal.  Up  to  the  date  of  his  appointment,  he  says, 
"  the  American  post-office  had  never  paid  anything  to  that  of  Britain. 
We  [i.e.,  himself  and  his  assistant]  were  to  have  £600  a  year  be- 
tween us,  if  we  could  make  that  sum  out  of  the  profits  of  the  office. 
...  In  the  first  four  years  the  office  became  above  £900  in  debt 
to  us.  But  it  soon  after  began  to  repay  us  ;  and  before  I  was  dis- 
placed by  a  freak  of  the  minister's,  we  had  brought  it  to  yield  three 
times  as  much  clear  revenue  to  the  crown  as  the  post-office  of  Ireland. 
Since  that  imprudent  transaction  they  have  received  from  it — not 
one  farthing. " 

The  interval  between  the  development  of  Palmer's  improved 
methods  (as  far  as  that  development  was  permitted  by  the  authori- 
ties), which  we  take  to  be  pretty  nearly  contemporaneous  with  the 
parliamentary  settlement  of  his  claims,  and  the  still  more  import- 
ant reforms  introduced  twenty-seven  years  later  by  Sir  Rowland 
Hill,  is  chiefly  marked  by  the  growth  of  the  packet  system,  under 
the  influence  of  steam  navigation,  and  by  the  elaborate  investiga- 
tions of  the  revenue  commissioners  of  1S26  and  the  following  years. 
Undoubtedly  the  inquiries  of  these  commissioners  attracted  a  larger 
share  of  public  attention  to  the  management  of  the  post-office  than 
had  theretofore  been  bestowed  on  it ;  but,  if  anytiiing  had  been 
wanted  to  throw  into  bolder  relief  Hill's  intelligent  and  persevering 
exertions,  these  reports  supply  the  want  in  ample  measure.  la 
some  important  partioulars  they  mark  out  practical  and  most  valu- 
able reforms,  but  they  are  so  clumsy  in  arrangement,  so  resilient 
in  the  treatment  of  the  various  branches  of  the  service,  and  so 
crowded  with  petty  details  as  to  contrast  most  unfavourably  with 
the  lucid  order  and  vigorous   reasoning  of  Kowland  Hill's  Post- 

'  Debates  of  both  Houses  o/ Parliament  in.  1808  relative  to  the  Agree- 
ment  for  the  Reform  and  Improvement  of  the  PostrOffice,  passim. 

-  Lang,  Historical  Sujr.mary  of  the  Post-Office  in  Scotland,  15. 

'  Appendix  to  Seventh  Report  from  Select  Committee  on  Finance 
(1797),  reprinted  in  collective  series  of  reports,  xii.  209. 

*  Minutes  of  Evidence  before  Select  Committee  on  Tajcation  of  In- 
lemal  Comm-uniaUion  (1837),  evidence  of  Sir  Edward  Lees,  397. 

'  Report,  <tc.,  of  Select  Comfnittee  on  Postage. 


. 


1636-1842.] 


POST-OFFICE 


567 


Office  Reform.  While  the  functionaries  of  the  post-office  are 
criticized  with  a  severity  so  salient  as  to  wear  an  appearance  at 
times  of  almost  personal  hostility,  the  truth  that  a  very  large  and 
liberal  increase  of  public  facilities  would  be  likely  to  benefit  tho 
revenue  much  more  materially  than  small  economies  in  salaries 
and  perquisites  seems  scarcely  to  have  dawned  on  the  minds  of  the 
oommissioners.  Even  in  dealing  with  a  new  accommodation  actually 
provided — that  of  the  money-order  office — whilst  taking  just  excep- 
tion to  the  unofficial  character  of  its  management,  they  incline 
rather  to  its  abolition  than  to  its  reform. 

As  early  as  1788  the  cost  of  the  packets  employed  by  the  post- 
;>fBco  attracted  parliamentary  attention.  In  that  year  the  "  com- 
missioners of  fees  and  gratuities"  reported  that  in  the  preceding 
^seventeen  years  the  total  cost  of  this  branch  had  amounted  to 
£1,038,133;  and  they  naturally  laid  stress  on  the  circumstance 
that  many  officers  of  the  post-office  were  owners  of  such  packets, 
dven  down  to  the  chamber-keeper.  At  this  time  part  of  the  packet 
service  was  performed  by  hired  vessels,  and  part  by  vessels  which 
were  the  property  of  the  crown.  The  commissioners  recommended 
that  the  latter  should  be  sold,  and  the  entire  service  be  provided 
for  by  public  and  competitive  tender.  The  subject  was  again  in- 
quired into  by  the  finance  Committee  of  1798,  which  reported 
fliat  the  recommendation  of  1788  had  not  been  fully  acted  upon, 
and  expressed  its  concurrence  in  that  recommendation.  The  plan 
was  then  to  a  considerable  extent  enforced.  But  the  war  rapidly 
increased  the  expenditure.  The  average  (£61,000)  of  1771-87  had 
increased  in  1797  to  £78,439,  in  1810  to  £105,000,  in  18U  to 
£160,603.  In  the  succeeding  years  of  peace  the  expense  fell  to  an 
average  of  about  £85,000.  As  early  as  1818  the  "Rob  Roy"  plied 
regularly  between  Greenock  arid  Belfast ;  but  no  use  was  made  of 
steam  navigation  for  the  postal  service  until  1821,  when  the  post- 
master-general established  crown  packets.  The  expenditure  under 
the  new  system,  from  that  date  to  1829  inclusive,  was  thus  reported 
by  the  commissioners  of  revenue  inquiry  in  1830. 

Table  \\\.—Cosl  of  FacTcel  Service,  1820-1829." 


Year. 

18202 £S5,000 

182l» 134,868 

1822    115,429 

1823    93,725 

1824    116,063 


Year. 

1825 £110,838 

1826 144,592 

1827  159,250 

1828  117,260 

1S29 108,305 


The  general  administration  of  postal  affairs  at  this  period  was 
«till  characterized  by  repeated  advances  in  the  letter  rates,  and  the 
twenty  years  previous  to  Rowland  Hill's  reforms  by  a  stationary 
Mvenue.  The  following  table  (IV.)  will  show  the  gross  receipts, 
the  charges  of  collection  and  managemeat,  and  the  nett  revenue 
(omitting  fractions  of  a  pound)  of  the  post-office  of  Great  Britain. 
We  give  the  figures  for  the  year  1808  for  the  purpose  of  comparison. 


Year. 

Gross  In- 
come. 

Charges  of 

CoUection, 

&c. 

Charges 
per  cent 
of  Gross 
Income. 

Nett 
Revenue. 

Population 
of  United 
Kingdom. 

1803 

1815-16 

1818-19 

1820-21 

1824-25 

1820-27 

1830-37 

1838-39 

£1,552,037 
2,193,741 
2,209,212 
2,132,235 
2,255,230 
2,302,272 
2,206,736 
2,340,278 

£451,431 
594,045 
719,622 
630,290 
655,914 
747,018 
009,220 
686,768 

29 

27 

321 

29 

29 

31 

27i 

29 

£1,100,606 
1,599,698 
1,489,690 
1,495,945 
1,699,325 
1,645,254 
1,597,516 
1,659,510 

19,552,000 

20,928,000 
22,362,000 

25,605,000 

Before  passing  to  tho  reform  of  1839  we  have  to  revert  to  that 
important  feature  in  postal  history, — tho  interference  with  corre- 
spondence for  judicial  or  political  purposes.  We  have  already  scon 
(l)that  this  assumption  had  no  parliamentary  sanction  until  the 
enactment  of  the  9th  of  Queen  Anne  ;  (2)  that  tho  enactment  differed 
from  the  royal  proclamations  in  directing  a  special  warrant  for  each 
opening  or  detention  of  correspondence.  It  is  a  significant  gloss 
on  the  statute  to  find  that  for  nearly  a  century  (namely,  until  1798 
inclusive)  it  was  not  the  practice  to  record  such  warrants  regularly 
in  any  oflicial  booV.*  Of  tho  use  to  which  tho  power  was  applied 
the  state  trials  afford  some  remarkable  instances.  At  tho  trial  of 
Bishop  Atterbury,  for  example,  in  1723  certain  letters  were  ofl'ered 
in  evidence  which  a  clerk  of  tho  post-o0ico  deposed  on  oath  "  to  bo 
true  copies  from  the  originals,  whi'jh  were  stopped  at  the  post- 
office  and  copied,  and  sent  forward  as  directed."  Hereupon  Atter- 
bury very  naturally  asked  this  witness  "if  ho  had  any  express 
warrant  under  tho  liand  of  one  of  the  principal  secretaries  of  state 
for  opening  the  said  letters."  But  the  Lords  shelved  his  objection 
and  put  a  stop  to  his  inquiry  on  the  grounds  of  public  inexpediency. 

'  Twenty-second  Report  of  the  Commissioners  of  Revenue  Inquiry,  4-6. 

'  Last  year  of  cxchisivo  sailing  packets. 

'  First  year  of  steam-packets. 

'  /ic},urt  of  &,-n-l  CommilleeonthePoH-OfficeilSii),  p.  9. 


Twenty-nine  peera  recorded  their  protest  againsit  this  decision.^ 
But  the  practice  thus  sanctioned  appears  to  nave  been  pushed  ta 
such  lengths  as  to  elicit  in  April  1735  a  strong  protest  and  censure 
from  the  House  of  Commons.  In  the  preceding  February  com? 
plaints  were  made  by  several  members  that  not  only  were  their 
letters  charged  at  the  post-office,  but  they  were  often  broken  opei)| 
and  perused  by  the  clerics,  that  the  practice  of  breaking  open  lettira 
was  become  frequent,  and  was  so  publicly  known  that  "the  liberty 
given  to  break  open  letters  .  .  .  could  now  serve  no  purpose  but  to 
enable  the  idle  clerks  about  that  office  to  pry  into  the  private  affair^ 
of  every  merchant  and  of  every  gentleman  in  the  kingdom."'  A' 
committee  of  inquiry  was  appointed,  and  after  receiving  its  report 
the  House  resolved  that  it  was  "an  high  infringement  of  the  privi- 
leges of  the  .  .  .  Commons  of  Great  Britain  in  Parliament  for  any 
postmaster,  his  deputies,  or  agents,  in  Great  Britain  or  Ireland,  to 
open  or  look  into,  by  any  means  whatever,  any  letter  directed  to 
or  signed  by  the  proper  hand  of  any  member,  without  an  express 
warrant  in  wTiting  under  the  hand  of  one  of  the  principal  secretaries 
of  state  for  every  such  opening  and  looking  into  ;  or  to  detain  or 
delay  any  letter  directed  to,  or  signed  with  the  name  of  any  member, 
unless  there  shall  be  just  reason  to  suspect  some  counterfeit  of  it, 
without  an  express  warrant  of  a  principal  secretary  of  st^te  for  eyeij 
such  detaining  or  delaying." 

Sir  Rowland  Hill's  Reforms  (1836-1842). 

Rowland  Hill's  pamphlet  (Porf-O/^ce  i?f/o?m)  of  1837  Rowland 
took  for  its  starting-point  the  fact  that,  whereas  the  postal  Hill's 
revenue  showed  for  the  past  twenty  years  a  positive  though  P™?"^*'' 
slight  diminution,  it  ought  to  have  showed  an  increase  of  form. 
.£507,700  a  year  in  order  to  have  simply  kept  pace  ■nith 
the  growth  of  population  (see  Table  IV.  above),  and  an 
increase  of  nearly  four  times  that  amount  in  order  to  have 
kept  pace  with  the  growth  of  the  analogous  though  far  less 
exorbitant  duties  imposed  on  stage-coaches.  The  stage- 
coach duties  had  produced  in  1815  £217,671 ;  in  1835 
they  produced  £498,497.  In  1837  there  did  not  exist 
any  precise  account  of  the  number  of  letters  transmitted 
through  the  general  post-office.  Hill,  however,  was  able  to 
prepare  a  sufficiently  approximate  estimate  from  the  data 
of  the  London  district  post,  and  from  the  sums  collected  for 
postage.  Ho  thus  calculated  the  number  of  chargeable 
letters  at  about  88,600,000,  that  of  franked  letters  at 
7,400,000,  and  that  of  newspapers  at  30,000,000,  giving 
a  gross  total  of  about  126,000,000.  At  this  period  the 
total  cost  of  management  and  distribution  was  £696,569. 
In  the  finance  accounts  of  the  year  (1837)  deductions  are 
made  from  tho  gross  revenue  for  letters  "refused,  missent, 
redirected,"  and  the  like,  which  amount  to  about  £122,000. 
An  analysis  of  the  component  parts  of  this  expenditure 
assigned  £426,617  to  cost  of  primary  distribution  and 
£270,052  to  cost  of  secondary  distribution  and  miscellane- 
ous charges.  A  further  analysis  of  the  primary  distribu- 
tion expenditure  gave  £282,308  as  the  probable  outgoings 
for  receipt  and  delivery  and  £144,209  as  tho  probable 
outgoings  for  transit.  In  other  words,  the  expenditure 
which  hinged  upon  tho  distance  the  letters  had  to  be 
conveyed  was  £144,000,  and  that  which  had  nothing 
to  do  with  distance  was  £282,000.  Applying  to  these 
figures  the  estimated  number  of  letters  and  newspapers 
(126,000,000)  passing  through  the  office,  there  resulted  a 
probable  average  cost  of  -^^  of  a  penny  for  each,  of  which 
■f^^  was  cost  of  transit  and  -j^'g-  cost  of  receipt,  delivery,' 
<fcc.  Taking  into  account,  however,  tho  much  greater 
weight  of  newspapers  and  franked  letters  as  compared 
with  chargeable  letters,  the  apparent  average  cost  of  transit 
became,  by  this  estimate,  but  about  t^,  or  less  than  -j^' 
of  a  penny. 

A  detailed  estimate  of  tho  cost  of  conveying  a  letter, 
from  London  to  Edinburgh,  founded  upon  tho  average 
weight  of  the  Edinburgh  mail,  gave  a  still  lower  projior- 
tion,  since  it  reduced  the  apparent  cost  of  transit,  on  the 
average,  to  tho  thirty-sixth  part  of  one  penny.     Hill  in- 


°  Lords'  Journals,  xxii.  183-180  ;  Howell's  State  Trials,  xvi.  540  sq. 
"  Parliamentary  Histonj,  ix.  842  sq. 


568 


POST-OFFICE 


[msTon-s. 


fe»red  that,  if  the  charge  for  postage  were  to  be  made 
proportionate  to  the  whole  expense  incurred  in  the  receipt, 
transit,  and  delivery  of  the  letter,  and  in  the  collection  of 
its  postage,  it  must  he  made  vnijonnly  the  same  from 
every  post-town  to  every  other  post-town  in  the  United 
Kingdom,  unless  it  could  be  shown  how  we  are  to  collect 
so  small  a  sura  as  the  thirty-sixth  part  of  a  penny.  And, 
inasmuch  as  it  would  take  a  ninefold  weight  to  make  the 
expense  of  transit  amount  to  one  farthing,  he  further  in- 
ferred that,  taxation  apart,  the  charge  ought  to  be  pre- 
cisely the  same  for  every  packet  of  moderate  weight,  with- 
out reference  to  the  number  of  its  enclosures.. 

At  this  period  the  rate  of  postage  actually  imposed  (be- 
yond the  limits  of  the  London  district  oflfice)  varied  from 
4d.  to  Is.  8d.  for  a  single  letter,  which  was  interpreted  to 
mean  a  single  piece  of  paper  not  exceeding  an  ounce  in 
weight ;  a  second  piece  o'f  paper  or  any  other  enclosure, 
however  small,  constituted  the  packet  a  double  letter.  A 
single  sheet  of  paper,  if  it  at  all  exceeded  an  ounce  in 
weight,  was  charged  with  fourfold  postage.  The  average 
charge  on  inland  general  post  letters  was  nearly  9d.  for 
each.  Apart  from  the  necessary  commercial  evils  of  an 
excessive  taxation,  the  effects  upon  the  postal  service  itself 
were  injurious, — on  the  one  hand,  a  complicated  system  of 
accounts,  involving  both  great  waste  of  time  and  great 
temptation  to  fraud  in  their  settlement,  and,  on  the  other, 
a  constant  invitation  to  the  violation  of  the  sacredness  of 
correspondence,  by  making  it  part  of  daily  official  work  to 
expose  letters  to  a  strong  light  expressly  to  ascertain  their 
contents.  These  mischiefs  it  was  proposed  to  remove  by 
enacting  that  the  charge  for  primary  distribution, — that 
is  to  say,  the  postage  on  all  letters  received  in  a  post-town, 
and  delivered  in  the  same  or  in  any  other  post-town  in  the 
British  Isles, — should  be  at  the  uniform  rate  of  one  penny 
for  each  half-ounce, — all  letters  and  other  papers,  whether 
eingle  or  multiple,  forming  one  packet,  and  not  weighing 
more  than  half  an  ounce,  being  charged  one  penny,  and 
heavier  packets,  to  any  convenient  limit,  being  charged  an 
additional  penny  for  each  additional  half-ounce.  And  it 
TPas  further  proposed  that  stamped  covers  should  be  sold 
to-  the  public  at  such  a  price  as  to  include  the  postage, 
which  would  thus  be  collected  in  advance.^  By  the  public 
generally,  and  pre-eminently  by  the  trading  public,  the 
planv.'as  received  ■\\ith  great  favour.  By  the  functionaries 
of  the  post-ofBce  it  was  at  once  denounced  as  ruinous  and 
ridiculed  as  visional/.  Lord  Lichfield,  then  postmaster- 
general,  said  in  the  House  of  Lords  that,  if  the  anticipated 
'increase  of  letters  should  be  realized,  the  mails  would  have 
to  carry  twelve  times  as  much  in  weight,  and  therefore 
the  charge  for  transmission,  instead  of  being  £100,000 
as  then,  must  increase  to  twelve  times  that  amount.  The 
■walls  of  tiie  post-office  would  burst ;  the  whole  area  in 
which  the  building  stood  would  not  be  large  enough  to 
receive  the  clerks  and  the  letters.^  The  latter  part  of  this 
prediction  indeed  has  been  abundantly  verified,  but  not 
'.within  the  period  or  under  the  circumstances  then  referred 
ito.  In  the  course  of  the  foUowing  year  (1838)  petitions 
were  poured  into  the  House  of  Commons.  A  select  com- 
mittee was  appointed,  which  reported  as  follows  : — • 

"The  principal  points  which  appear  to  your  committed'  to  have 
been  established  in  evidence  are  the  following: — (1)  the  exceed- 
ingly slow  advance  and  occasionally  retrograde  movement  of  the 
post-office  revenue  during  the  .  .  .  last  twenty  years;  (2)  the  fact  of 
the  charge  of  postage  exceeding  the  cost  in  a  manifold  proportion  ; 
(3)  the  fact  of  post)^ge  being  evaded  most  extensively  by  all  classes 
of  society,  and  of  corresjjondeoce  being  suppressed,  more  especially 
among  the  middle  and  working  classes  of  the  people,  and  this  in 
conseqiience,  as  all  the  witnesses,  including  many  of  the  post-office 

'  Post-Office  Re-form,  27  sq. 

*  Mirror  of  Parliament,  debate  of  18th  December  1837.  But  Lord 
Idcbfield  was  an  excellent  public  servant,  and  many  reforms  were 
saade  by  him 


authorities,  think,  of  the  excessively  high  scale  of  taxation  ;  ( '.) 
the  fact  of  very  injurious  effects  resulting  from  this  state  of  thiijgi 
to  the  commerce  and  industry  of  the  country,  and  to  the  social 
habits  and  moral  condition  of  the  people  ;  5)  the  fact,  as  far  as 
conclusions  can  be  drawn  from  very  imperfect  data,  that  when'.ver 
on  former  occasions  large  reductions  in  the  rates  have  been  niaJe,< 
these  reductions  have  been  followed  in  short  periods  of  time  by  an 
extension  of  correspondence  proportionate  to  the  contraction  df  the 
rates  ;  (6)  and,  as  matters  of  inference  from  fact  and  of  opinion— ' 
(i. )  that  the  only  remedies  for  the  evils  above  stated  are  a  reduc- 
tion of  the  rates,  and  the  establishment  of  additional  deliveries, 
and  more  frequent  despatches  of  letters ;  (ii.)  that  owing  to  tlie 
rapid  extension  of  railroads  there  is  an  urgent  and  daily-increas- 
ing necessity  for  making  such  changes  ;  (iii.)  that  any  moderate 
reduction  in  the  rates  would  occasion  loss  to  the  revenue,  without 
in  any  material  degree  diminishing  the  present  amount  of  letters 
irregularly  conveyed,  or  giving  rise  to  the  growth  of  new  corre-' 
spondence  ;  (iv.)  that  the  principle  of  a  low  uniform  rate  i^  just  in 
itself,  and,  when  combined  with  prepayment  and  collection  by  means 
of  a  stamp,  would  be  exceedingly  convenient  and  h'ghly  satisfactory 
to  the  public." 

During  the  session  of  parliament  which  foUowed  the 
presentation  of  this  report  about  2000  petitions  in  favour 
of  uniform  penny  postage  were  presented  to  both  Houses, 
and  at  length  the  chancellor  of  the  exchequer  brought 
in  a  Bill  to  enable  the  treasury  to  carry  that  reform  into 
effect.  The  measure  was  carried  in  the  House  of  Common? 
by  a  majority  of  100,  and  became  law  on  17th  August 
1839.  A  new  but  only  temporary  office  under  the  treasury  s&xw 
was  created  to  enable  Kowland  Hill  to  superintend  (al-  °'  ■■* 
though,  as  it  proved,  under  very  inadequate  arrangements) 
the  working  out  of  his  plan.  The  first  step  taken  was  to 
reduce,  on  5th  December  1839,  the  London  district  postage 
to  Id.  and  the  general  inland  postage  to  4d.  the  half-ounce 
(existing  lower  rates  being  continued).  On  10th  January 
1840  the  uniform  penny  rate  came  into  operation  through- 
out the  United  Kingdom, — the  scale  of  weight  advancing 
from  Id.  for  each  of  the  first  two  half -ounces,  by  gradations 
of  2d.  for  each  additional  ounce,  or  fraction  of  an  ounce,  I 
up  to  16  ounces.  The  postage  was  to  be  prepaid,  and  if  not 
to  be  charged  at  double  rates.  Parliamentary  franking  was 
abolished.  Postage  stamps  (see  below,  p.  585  sq.)  were  intro- 
duced in  May  following.  The  facihties  of  despatch  were  soon 
afterwards  increased  by  the  establishment  of  day  mails. 

But  on  the  important  point  of  simplification  in  the 
internal  economy  of  the  post-office,  with  the  object  of 
reducing  its  cost  without  diminishing  its  working  power, 
very  little  was  done.  Ih  carrying  out  the  new  measures 
the  officers  were,  as  the  chancellor  of  the  exchequer 
(Baring)  expressed  it  on  one  occasion,  "unwilling  horses." 
Nor  need  a  word  more  be  said  in  proof  of  the  assertion 
than  is  contained  in  a  naive  passage  of  Colonel  Maberly's 
evidence  before  the  postal  committee  of  1843.  "My 
constant  language  to  the  heads  of  the  departments  was, — \ 
'  This  plan,  we  know,  will  faU.  It  is  your  duty  to  take  care 
that  no  obstruction  is  placed  in  the  way  of  it  by  the  heads 
of  the  department,  and  by  the  post-office.  The  allegation, 
I  have  not  the  least  doubt,  ■will  be  made  at  a  subsequent 
period,  that  this  plan  has  failed  in  consequence  of  the  un- 
willingness of  the  Government  to  carry  it  into  fair  execu- 
tion. It  is  our  duty,  as  servants  of  the  Government,  to  take 
care  that  no  blame  eventually  shall  fall  on  the  Government 
through  any  un^nriUingness  of  ours  to  carry  it  into  proper 
effect.' "  And  again  :  "After  the  first  u<ee}:,  it  was  evi- 
dent, from  the  number  of  letters  being  so  much  below  Mr 
Hill's  anticipations,  that  it  must  faU,  inasmuch  as  it  wholly, 
rested  upon  the  number  of  letters  ;  for  without  that  you 
could  not  possibly  collect  the  revenue  Anticipated." 

The  plan,  then,  had  to  work  in  the  face  of  rooted  mis- 
trust on  the  part  of  the  workers.  Its  author  was  (for  a 
.  term  of  t-svo  years,  afterwards  prolonged  to  three)  the  officer, 
not  of  the  post-ofiice,  but  of  the  treasury.  He  could  only 
recommend  measures  the  most  indispensable  through  the 
chancellor  of  the  exchequer  ;  and,  when  Goulburn  succeeded 


1842-1885.] 


POST-OFFICE 


569 


Baring,  the  chancellor  was  very  much  of  Colonel  Jfaberly's 
way  of  thinking.  It  happened,  too,  that  the  scheme  had  to 
be  tried  and  carried  through  at  a  period  of  severe  commercial 
depression."  Nevertheless,  the  results  actually  attained  in 
the  first  two  years  were  briefly  these  : — (1)  the  chargeable 
tetters  delivered  in  the  United  Kingdom,  exclusive  of  that 
part  of  the  Government  correspondence  which  theretofore 
passed  free,  had  already  increased  from  tlio  rate  of  about 
r5,000,000  a  year  to  that  of  196,500,000  ;  (2)  the  London 
district  post  letters  had  increased  from  about  13,000,000  to 
23,000,000,  or  nearly  ir^  the  ratio  of  the  reduction  of  the 
fates;  (3)  the  illicit  conveyance  of  letters  was  substan- 
tially suppressed ;  (4)  the  gross  revenue,  exclusive  of  re- 
payments, yielded  about  a  million  and  a  half  per  annum, 
which  was  about  63  per  cent,  of  the  amount  of  the  gross 
revenue  in  1839.  These  results  at  so  early  a  stage,  and 
in  the  face  of  so  many  obstructions,  amply  vindicated  the 
policy  of  the  new  system.  But  by  its  enemies  that  system 
was  loudly  declared  to  be  a  failure,  until  the  progressive 
and  striking  evidence  of  year  after  year  silenced  opposition 
by  an  exhaustive  process. 

Seven  years  later  (1849)  the  196,500,000  letters  de- 
livered throughout  the  United  Kingdom  in  1842  had 
increased  to  nearly  329,000,000.  In  addition,  the  follow- 
ing administrative  improvements  had  been  effected: — (1) 
the  time  for  posting  letters  at  the  London  receiving-houses 
extended  ;  (2)  the  limitation  of  weight  abolished ;  (3)  an 
additional  daily  despatch  to  London  from  the  neighbouring 
(as  yet  independent)  villages  ;  (4)  the  postal  arrangements 
of  120  of  the  largest  cities  and  great  towns  revised;  (5) 
unlimited  writing  on  inland  newspapers  authorized  on 
payment  of  an  additional  penny;  (6)  a  summary  process 
established  for  recovery  of  postage  from  the  senders  of 
unpaid  letters  when  refused  ;  (7)  a  book-posf  established  ; 
(8)  registration  reduced  from  one  shilling  to  sixpence  ;  (9) 
a  third  mail  daily  put  on  the  railway  (without  additional 
charge)  from  the  towns  of  the  north-western  district  to 
(London,  and  day-mails  extended  within  a  radius  of  20  miles 
'round  the  metropolis  ;  (10)  a  service  of  parliamentary  re- 
turns, for  private  Bills,  provided  for  ;  (11)  measures  taken, 
against  many  obstacles,  for  the  complete  consolidation  of 
the  two  heretofore  distinct  corps  of  letter-carriers, — an 
improvement  (on  the  whole)  of  detail,  which  led  io  other 
improvements  thereafter.  ^ 

Improvements,  more  conspicuous  still,  in  the  money-order 
branch  of  the  postal  service  will  be  noticed  in  a  subsequent 
section  of  this  article  (page  572). 

Later  History  (1842-1885). 

When  Sir  R.  Hill  initiated  his  great  reform  the  post- 
inastership-general  was  in  the  hands  of  the  earl  of  Lich- 
field, the  thirty-first  in  succession  to  that  office  after  Sir 
Brian  Tuke.  It  was  under  Lord  Lichfield  that  the  legis- 
ktion  of  1839  was  carried  out  in  1840  and  in  1841.  In 
September  of  the  last-named  year  Lord  Lichfield  was 
^succeeded  by  Viscount  Lowther. 

In  the  summer  of  18-14  public  attention  was  aroused  in  a  re- 
markable manner  to  a  branch  of  post-oflico  administration  which 
hitherto  had  been  kept  almost  wholly  out  of  sight.  The  state- 
ment that  the  letters  of  Mazziui,  then  a  political  refugee,  who  had 
.long  been  resident  in  England,  had  been  systematically  opened, 
'and  their  contents  communicated  to  foreign  Govornments,  oy  Sir 
James  Graham,  secretary  of  state  for  the  home  department,  aroused 
much  indignation.     The  arrest  of  the  brothers  Baudicra,'  largely 

_  '  Hill,  nistori/  of  Penny  Postage  (1880),  Appendix  A  {Lifo,  ke., 
ii.  433).  Part  of  the  strenuousncss  of  the  opposition  to  tliis  measure 
arose,  it  must  bo  owned,  from  tho  "high-handedness"  which  in  Sir 
R.  Hill's  character  somewhat  maired  very  noble  faculties.  The  chanRC 
worked  much  harm  to  some  humble  but  hardworking  and  meritorious 
functionaries. 

'  nicordi  dei  fraietli  Bandiera  e  dei  loro  comjiagni  di  martirio  in 
CoMnm  (Paris,  1844),  p.  47. 


Letters  returned 1 

Address  copied  1 

Forged  frank   1 

Uncertain 89 

Total 372 


in  cbnsequence  of  information  derived  from  their  coiTespondence 
with  Mazzini,  and  their  subsequent  execution  at  Cosenza  made  a 
tliorough  investigation  into  the  circumstances  a  public  necessity. 
The  consequent  parliamentary  inquiry  of  August  1844,  after  retrac- 
ing the  earlier  events  connected  with  the  exercise  of  the  discretional 
power  of  inspection  which  parliament  had  vested  in  the  secretariea 
of  state  in  1710,  elicited  the  fact  that  in  1806  Lord  Spencer,  than 
secretary  for  the  home  department,  introduced  for  the  first  time  the 
practice  of  recording  in  an  official  book  all  warrants  issued  for  the 
detention  and  opening  of  letters,  and  also  tho  additional  fact  that 
from  the  year  1822  onwards  the  warrants  themselves  had  been  pre- 
served. The  whole  number  of  such  warrants  issued  from  1806  to 
the  middle  of  1844  inclusive  was  stated  to  be  323,  of  which  na 
less  than  53  had  been  issued  in  the  years  1841-44  inclusive,  a 
number  exceeding  that  of  any  previous  period  of  like  extent.  It 
further  appeared  that  the  whole  recorded  number  of  warrants  from 
tlie  beginning  of  the  century  was  372,  which  the  committee  classified 
under  the  following  heads  : — 

Subject-ilatlers  in  relation  to  which  Warrants  were  issued  for  the 
Opening  of  Letters,  1799-1844. 

Bank  of  England    13 

Bankruptcy 2 

JIurder,  theft,  fraud,  tc 144 

Treason,  sedition,  &c 77 

Prisoners  of  war 13 

Revenue    5 

Foreign  correspondence 20 

The  committee  of  1844  proceeded  to  report  that  "the  warrants 
issued  during  the  present  century  may  be  divided.into  two  classes, — 
1st,  those  issued  in  furtherance  of  criminal  justice,  ...  2d,  those 
issued  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  tho  designs  of  persons  known 
or  suspected  to  be  engaged  in  proceedings  dangerous  to  the  State,  or 
(as  in  Mazzini's  case)  deeply  involHnq  British  interests,  and  carried 
on  in  the  United  Kingdom,  or  in  British  possessions  beyond  the 
seas.  .  .  .  Warrants  of  the  second  description  originate  with  the 
home  office.  The  principal  secretary  of  state,  of  his  owu  discretion, 
determines  when  to  issue  them,  and  gives  instructions  accordingly 
to  the  under  -  secretary,  whoso  office  is  then  purely  ministerial. 
The  mode  of  preparing  them,  and  keeping  record  of  them  in  a 
private  book,  is  the  same  as  in  the  case  of  criminal  warrants.' 
There  is  no  record  kept  of  the  groioids  on  which  they  are  isstced, 
except  so  far  as  correspondence  preserved  at  the  home  office  may 
lead  to  infer  them.'  .  .  .  The  letters  which  have  been  detained 
and  opened  are,  unless  retained  by  special  order,  as  sometimes 
happens  in  criminal  cases,  closed  and  resealcd,  without  affixing 
any  mark  to  indicate  that  they  have  been  so  detained  and  opened, 
and  are  forwarded  by  post  according  to  their  respective  super- 
scriptions."* 

Almost  forty  years  later  a  like  question  was  again  raised  in  the 
House  of  Commons  (March  1882)  by  some  Irish  members,  in 
relation  to  an  alleged  examination  of  correspondence  at  Dublin 
for  political  reasons.  Sir  William  Harcourt  on  that  occasion  spoke 
thus:  "  This  power  is  with  the  secretary  of  state  in  England.  .  .  . 
In  Ireland  it  belongs  to  tho  Irish  Government.  ...  It  is  a  power 
which  is  given  for  purposes  of  state,  and  the  very  essence  of  the 
power  is  that  no  account  [of  its  exercise]  can  be  rendered.  To 
render  an  account  would  be  to  defeat  the  very  object  for  which  the 
power  was  granted.  If  the  minister  is  not  fit  to  exercise  the  power 
so  entrusted,  upon  the  responsibility  cast  upSu  him,  ho  is  not  fit 
to  occupy  the  post  of  secretary  of  state."'  The  House  of  Common* 
accepted  this  explanation  ;  and  in  view  of  many  recent  and  grave 
incidents,  both  in  Ireland  and  in  America,  it  would  be  hard  to 
justify  any  other  conclusion. 

The  increase  i.n  the  number  of  postal  deliveries  and  in 
that  of  the  receiving-houses  and  branch-offices,  together 
with  the  numerous  improvements  introduced  into  the 
working  economy  of  tho  post-office,  when  Rowland  Hill  at 
length  obtained  the  means  of  fully  carrying  out  his  reforms 
by  his  appointment  as  secretary,  speedily  gave  a  more 
vigorous  impulse  to  the  progress  of  the  nett  revenue  than 
had  theretofore  obtained.  During  the  seven  years  1845-51 
inclusive  the  average  was  but  £8 10,951.  During  the  seven 
years  1852-57  inclusive  tho  average  was  £1,160,448, — the 
average  of  the  gross  income  during  tho  same  sc])tcnniali 
period  having  been  £2,081,835.  The  following  tabic  (V.) 
shows  the  details  (omitting  fractions  of  a  2>ound)  for  the 
entire  period  from  1 8.'fH,  the  last  complete  vcar  of  the  old 
rates  of  postage,  to  1857  inclusive: — 

'  Report  from  the  Secret  Committee  on  the  Post-Office  (1844),  p.lll 

*  /'."/,  pp.  1417. 

=■  Uausard,  Debates,  vol.  cclxvii.  coli  294-296  (session  of  1882); 


670 


P  0  S  T  -  Q  F  F  I  0  bJ 


[1842-1885. 


Number  of  Lcliers  ;  Gross  and  Nctt  Income,  1838-1857. 


Estimated 

Cost  of 
Manage- 
V  ment. 

Postage 

teaf  enc''^ 

No.  of 
Chargeable 
.  Letters. 

Gross  T 
Income. 

Nett 
RevenHe. 

charged 
on  Govern- 
ment. 

■■»■■ 

•       £       ! 

£ 

£ 

£ 

'an.  5 

1838 

2,330,737 

687,313 

1,652,424 

38,523  ■ 

1839 

2,346,278 

686,768 

1,659,500 

45,156 

** 

1840 

75,908,000 

2,390,763 

756,999 

1,633,764 

44,277 

1841 

163,768,341 

1,359,466 

858,677 

600,789 

90,761 

1842 

196,500,191 

1,499,418 

938,168 

561,249 

113,255 

1843 

208,434,451 

1,578,145 

977,604 

600,641 

122,161 

1844 

220,450,306 

1,620,867 

980,650 

640,217 

116,503 

184S 

242,091,684 

1,705,067 

985,110 

109,232 

1846 

271,410,789 

1,887,576 

1,125,594 

761,982 

101,190 

1847 

299,586,762 

1,963,857 

1,133,745 

826,112 

100,354 

1848 

322,146,243 

2,181,018 

1,196,520 

984,496 

121,290 

1849 

328,830,184 

2,143,679 

1,403,250 

115,902 

1S50 

337,399,199 

2,165,349 

1,324,662 

840,787 

106,923 

1851 

347,069,071 

2,264,684 

1,400,785 

803.898 

109,523 

1862 

360,647,187 

2,422,168 

1,304,163 

1,118,004 

167,129 

1853 

379,501,499 

2,434,326 

1,343,907 

1,090,419 

124,977 

'  1854 

410,817,489 

2,674,407. 

1,400,679 

1,173,727 

134,112 

Dec.  3: 

,1854 

443,619,301 

2,701,862 

1,506,556 

1,195,306 

185.236 

1855 

456,216,176 

2,716,420 

1,651,364 

1,065,056 

173.560 

1 

1856 

478,393,803 

2,867,954 

1,660,229 

1,207,725 

154,229 

IT 

1857 

604,421,000' 

3,035,713 

1,7-20,815 

1,314,898 

135,517 

Briefly,  within  a  period  of  eighteen  years  under  the  penny  rate  the 
number  of  letters  became  more  than  sixfold  what  it  was  under  the 
exorbitant  rates  of  1838.  When  the  change  was  first  made  the 
increase  of  letters  was  in  the  ratio  of  122-25  -per  cent  during  the 
year.  The  second  year  showed  ■  an  increase  on  the  first  of  about 
16  per  cent.  During  the  next  fifteen  years  the  average  increase 
was  at  the  rate  of  about  6  per  cent,  per  .annum.  .Although  this 
enormous  increase  of  business,  coupled  with  the  increasing  pre- 
ponderance of  railway  mail  -conveyance  (invaluable,  •  but  costly), 
carried  up  the  post-office  exlJenditure  from  £757,000  to  £1,720,800, 
j-et  the  nett  revenue  of  1857  was  within  £320,000  of  the  nett  re- 
yenue  of  1839.  During  the  year  1857  the  number  of  newspapers 
delivered  in  the  United  Kingdom  was  about  71,000,000,  and  that 
of  book -packets  (the  cheap  carriage  of  which  is  one  of  the  most 
serviceable  and  praiseworthy  of  modern  postal  improvements)  about 
5,000,000.    '  ' 

•rowth     ■  During  the  succeeding  quarter  of  a  century,  1858-84,  the  achieve- 
«nd         meats  of  the  period  1835-57  have  been  eminently  surpassed.     The 
•^PS6S  postmasters -general   of  the   new  epoch  have   been   assisted   and 
i6)"      seconded  by  a  series  of  public  servants,  not  a  few  of  whom  added 
to  the  conspicuous  energies  of  Sir  R.  HUl  more  of  those  not  less 
feBtimable  qualities — suavity  of  manner,  tact  in  dealing  with  large 
fcbdies  of  inferiors,  reverence  for  the  good  doings  of  past  tiipes— 
than  had  fallen  to  his  lot.     SaUent  amongst  such  stand  the  »ames 
of  Sir  John  TiUey,  Mr  Frank  Ives  Scudamore,  and  Mr  Stevenson 
iBlackwood.      Among  the  postmasters -general  the  Earl  of  Elgin 
<1859),  Lord  Stanley  of  Alderley  (1860),  Lord  Hartington  (Deeem- 
■«er  1868),  Lord  John  Manners  (February  1874),  and  the  forty-fourth 
oostmaater-general  Henry  Fawcett  i  (April  1880  to  November  1884} 
tiold  eminent  place. 

This  period  includes — (1)  the  establisnment  of  postal  sa-vingS 
^inks  (1861),  in  which  Mr  Gladstone,  as  chancellor  of  the  ex- 

1  The  Right  Hon.  Henry  Fawcett  (1833-1834),  under  whose  cxcep- 
6onally  vigorous,  able,  and  statesmanlike  admuusrtTatiou  maby  improve- 
ment'^ of  the  postal  system  were  introduced,  was  born  at  Salisbury  in 
1831. »  He  was  educated  at  King's  College,  London,  and  Trinity  Hall, 
Cambridge,  and  after  graduating  in  1856  as  seventh  wrangler  began  his 
Studies  for  the  English  bar.  A  weakness  in  the  eyes  had  occasionally 
Bterrupted  his  studies  before  the  great  calamity  which  befell  him  while 
)ut  shooting  in  September  1858,  when  a  g\in  accident  totally  deprived 
4m  of  sight.  The  exceptional  interest  of  his  career  lies  in  its  com- 
alete  fulfilment  of  his  resolution  that  be  would  not  allow  the  calamity 
'to  interfere  with  his  discharge  of  duty  or  the  enjoyment  of  life." 
Sven  as  regards  physical  exercise  his  resolution  was  practically  ful- 
llled,  for  he  continued  to  engage!  in  riding,  fishing,  skating,  swimming, 
»nd  rowing  -with  as  keen  enjoyment  as  before.  As  regards  the  chief 
Interests  of  his  life  the  result  of  the  accident  was  probably  beneficial 
rather  than  otherwise.  Eeturning  to  Cambridge,  he  devoted  himself 
to  the  systematic  study  of  political  economy,  and  in  1363  he  was  chosen 
OTofessor  of  th.it  subject.  In  1867  he- was  married  to  Millicent, 
daughter  of  Mr  Newson  Garrett  of  Aldeburgh,  Suffolk,  who  assisted 
nrm  in  the'preparation  of  several  of  his  works  on  poUtical  economy, 
ind  also  vn-ote  independently  on  the  same  subject.  The  best  known 
M  Mr  Fawcett's  treatises  is  his  Manual  of  Political  Econoviy  (1363). 
\d.  this  science  he  followed  substantially  the  old  lines,  but  a  certain 
freshness  attaches  to  his  views  from  his  deep  practical  interest  in  the 
welfare  of  the  working-classes.  -After  several  attempts  to  enter  parlia- 
ment, he  was  m  1365  chosen  'or  Brighton,  -rfhich  he  represented  tfll 
1874.  Shortly  after  losing  his  seat  for  that  borough  he  was  returned 
[or  Hackney.  On  the  accession  of  Mr  Gladstone  to  ofBce  in  1 880  he 
iras  made  postmaster-geceral,  and  a  member  of  the  pri-vy  council.  He 
jUed  from  plpurisy,' after  a  few  days'  illness,  7th  November  i834 


chequer,  had  a  very  large  share,  and  (2)  the  transfer  to  the  stat» 
of  the  telegraphic  service  (1870).  The  origin  and  growth  of  each 
of  these  pregnant  improvements  is  narrated  in  a  separate  section 
of  this  article.  Scarcely  less  important  than  these  are  (3)  the 
introduction  of  postal  cards  (October  1870)  and  (4)  the  establish- 
ment (August  1883)  of  a  parcel  pest.  The  last-named  measura 
will  probably,  in  its  results,  prove  to  be  a  public  boon  of  almost 
unexampled  magnitude.  At  its  outset  it  checks  railway  abuses, 
both  of  overcharge  and  of  excessive  delays,  which  had  grown  to  be 
enormous  evils.  Jlinor  but  most  valuable  anieliorations  of  the 
postal  service  begin  with  the  abolition  of  the  half-ounce  limit  (1877),' 
and  include  the  provision  of  new  and  excellent  post-office  biiildillgsj 
great  improvement  of  the  system  of  registration,  extensive  acceli 
orations  of  mails  in  various  parts  of  the  empire,  increased  postal 
deliveries,  and,  not  least  in  importance,,  a  most  just  amelioratiou 
(greatly  needed)  of  the  position  of  sub- postmasters,  of  clerks,  of 
sorters,  and  of  letter-carriers.  Certain  minor  improvements  cannot' 
be  more  briefly  or  better  epitomized  than  in  the  words  of  a  writer 
in  the  Standard  newspaper  of  10th  January  1879.  • 
~j  "  The  half-ounce  weights  chanced  to  be  just  above  tie  weight  of 
a  letter  written  on  full-sized  post  paper,  and,  when  that  was  the 
maximum  weight  allowed,  the  margin  was  so  fine  that  a  little 
thicker  paper  than  usual,  or  slightly  larger  envelope,  sufficed  td 
turn  the  scale,  and  all  but  strictly  business  correspondents  wers 
conl:inually  landing  those  whom  they  favoured  with  their  cort-i 
munications  in  the  annoyance  of  a  surcharge  for  deficient  prepay- 
ment of  postage.  By  the  extension  to  an  ounce  all  that  worry  and 
annoyance  has  been  swept  awiy,  and  no  inconsiderable  benefit,  has 
been  conferred  besides  on  people  whose  missives  are  of  necessity 
somewhat  more  ponderous  than  ordinary.  Quite  recently  the  post- 
office,  has  inti-oduced  another  great  improvement,  which  the  public, 
not  having  yet  had  time  to  appreciate,  do  not  utilize  to  the  extent 
it  deserves, — that  is,  the  system  of  ensuring,  which  is  iittle  less  than 
absolute  security  for  money  and  articles  of  value  sent  through  the 
post  by  means  of  registration.  The  fee  for  a  registered  letter, 
which  was  at  one  time  as  much  as  half  a  crown,  and  has  within 
easy  recollection  been  as  high  as  a  shUling,  was  reduced  early  in 
1878  from  4d.  to  2i,  with  the  result  that  something  like  6,500,009 
of  registered  latters  were  sent  in  1378,  as  compared  is-ith  4,316,000 
in  the  previous  year,  and  -nith  1,300,000  twenty  years  ago.  This 
number  would  be  largely  increased  if  all  the  official  registerect 
packets  were  included.  -Not  only  has  the  fee  been  reduced  to  what 
may  be  considered  the  lowest  possible  point,  but  letters  are  registered 
by  rural  postmen  on  their  rounds,  and  registration  envelopes  have 
been  issued  by  the  department  to  facilitate  registration  by  ths 
public.  The  envelopes  have  been  devised  with  care,  and  seem  well 
suited  for  the  purpose,  being  strong  as  well  as  cheap.  They  ar9 
sold  at  prices  varying  from  2Jd.  to  3d.  each  (which  includes  the 
registration  fee),  and  are  in  five  useful  sizes,  from  small  note  siza 
to  a  large  cover  suitable  for  bankers  and  merchants.  But  the  re- 
duction in  the  charge  and  the  sale  of  envelopes  are  not  the  only 
improvements  which  have  been  made  in  the  registration  system, 
for  the  post-office  now  undertakes  to  make  good,  up  to  £2,  the 
value  of  any  registered  letter  which  it  loses,  simply  stipulating,  in 
the  case  of  money,  that  one  of  its  own  envelopes  shall  be  used.  It 
is  on  every  account  most  desirable  that  money  and  articles  of  value 
should  not  be  loosely  camnntted  to  the  post,  and  .with  the  facilitie* 
for  transmitting  letters  securely  which  are  now  ofl'eted,  people  who 
choose  to  run  the  risk  of  loss  deserve  very  little  sympathy  if  the 
chance  goes  against  them.  As  regards  international  comraunica. 
tion  it  is  enough  to  merely  mention  the  beneficent  results  of  the 
postal  union,  under  which  the  postage  to  most  places  on  the  Conti- 
nent and  abroad  has  been  reduced  to  the  uniform  rate  of  2Jd.  for  » 
letter  not  exceeding  h^ilf  an  ounce  in  weight ;  while  to  a  second 
category  of  more  distant  places  under  foreign  dominion  the  charg» 
for  the  letter  of  half  an  ounce  is  6d." 

Table  VI.  gives  the  estimate  of  the  number  of  letters  (only) 
which  passed  in  both  directions  between  the  United  Kingdom  an<l 
foreign  countries  and  colonies  in  1864. 

France  ....6,771,009 

Canada,    British     North 

America,     and    United 

States    4,805,000 

Frussia,    Hamburg,    and 

Bremen 4,403,000 

Eastlndies,  China,  &c.  ..3.632,000 

Australia 2,915,000  Total 27,281,0001 

There  were  also  about  21,500,000  hooks,  papers,  and  patterns. 

Meanwhile  the  estimated  number  of  chargeable  letters  deliveref' 
■within  the  United  Kingdom  during  the  year  had  grown  from 
504,421,000,  at  which  it  stood  in  1857,  to  upwards  of  700,000,000 
in  1867,  and  to  1,057,732,000  in  1377.  In  the  year  1884  the 
number  was  reported- as  1,32-2,036,900  (exclusive  of  153,586,100 
post-cards).  The  growth  of  other  departments  of  the  postal  service 
IS  fully  in  proportion  to  that  of  the  letters  of  iiiland  delivery,  as 
may  be  seen  by  the  following  tables  (VII.,  VIII.,  IX.). 

■  Thirtieth  Report  of  the  Postmaster-General,  1834,  p.  1 ;  cp.  Statis- 
tical Abstract  of  United  Kingdom  (1884),  p.  157. 


West  Indies,  Pacific,  and 

Brazils  1,727,000 

Belgium    824,000 

Italy 827,000 

Spain 617,000 

Holland. 600,000 


STATISTICS.] 


Tear  ending  31st  December 
until  1870,  and  thercaflci- 
the  Financial  Year  ending 
3Ut  March. 


POST-OFFICE 

Table  711.— Uriited  Khiffdonu    Estimated  Inland  Delivery  of  Lellcra,  1839-1S84.' 


571 


68, 


EstimatedNo.ofLetters,1839 
■„  Franks,1839 

„^    _.  .Letters,18-(0 
Average  of  5  years,  lSll-45   IS 
■„  '  1846-50    180 

„  1861-55    2J3, 

1,  1850-60    302, 

,„'  1801-05    373, 

.  „  1866-70    i: 

Tearl'sn    501, 

1875    ....680, 

1879-80 640, 

1880.81  '050, 

1881-82 085, 

1882-83  713, 

1883-84 736,! 


Delivered  in  England  and  Wales. 


Countr}' 
Offices. 


i,i-  ,  In  London'  ^i- 
,  S,  5 ,  District,  I  ^  G. 
j  ^  5  ■  including  ^  - 
:  g  =  I  Local 
I  "  °  I  Letters. 


000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
081,400 
,033,000 
952,700 
169,000 
1,100 
,962,700 


lo'-V , 

6-5  V 

6-5 

4-2 

6-7 

4-2 

0-5 

4-8 

2-2 

1-7 

5-3 

41 

3-3 


000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 


9'0 
5-6 


97,000,000     6-0 


000,000 
000,000 
000,000 
,000,000 

71,000 
077,990 
419,300 
147,100 
558,100 

29,500 


6-5 
5-7 
3'2 
7  0 
6-5 
4-8 
60 
6-6 
3-5 
2-9 


Total  in 
England ' 

and 
Wales. 


60,000,000 

6,172,000 

132,000.000 

179,000,000 

259,000,000 

330,000,000 

427,000,000 

634,000,000 

604,000,000 

721,000,000 

846,852,400 

960,111,800 

981,372,000 

1,037,316,700 

1,077,647,200 

1,112,192,200 


£  = 


120-0 
10-2 
5-2 
6  0 
4-6 
6-7 
4-0 
2-5 
5-3 
3-0 
3-3 
5 

3-9 
S-2 


SK 
^ 


S 
11 
15 
IS 
22 
29 
31 
32 
35 
38 
38 
40 
41 
41 


Total 

in 

Scotland. 


;,09o,ooo 

336,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
,000,000 
,976,400 
,948,300 
,995,200 
,799,'JOO 
,509,800 
,204,800 


12 

is, 


P 


Total 

in 
Ireland.' 


u 


III 


143-5 

9-2  9 

♦-2'  12 

6-21  14 

3-2  16 

0-5  20 

4-7  24 
1-2 
0-9 


8,000, 
1,055. 
18,000 
24,000, 
34,000, 
39,000 
45,000 
53i<)00 
60,000, 
66,000, 
70,663, 
75,937, 
78,799, 
82,238, 
86,479, 
87,689, 


000 
000 
1,000 
i,000 
',000 
,000 
',000 
,000 
,000 
000 
300 
,400 
,700 
,200 
200 
900 


119-2 
9 

6-0 
3-6 
3-0 
S-2 
3-2 
3-0 
0-8 

S-8 
4-4 
6-2 
1-4 


2 


Total  in ' 

UniteiJ 

Kingdom. 


76,000, 

6,563, 

169,000, 

227,000, 

327,000, 

410,000, 

623,000, 

648,000, 

800,000, 

807,000, 

1,008,392, 

1,127,997, 

1,165,106, 

1,229,354, 

1,280,036, 

1,322.086.' 


000 
,000 
,000 
1,000 
,000 
000 

ooo 

000 
,000 
000 
100 
500 
900 
800 
200 
,900 


S.S 


22-2 
10-0 
6-0 
6-7 
4-3 
6-5 
4-0 
2-3 
4-6 
2-8 
3-3 
6-5 
4-2 
3-2 


as 


The   statistics   of    post -cards, 
delivered  in  the  United  Kingdom 
;i884  stand  thus  (Table  VIII.)  :— 


book -packets,   and 
in  dillerent  years  fr 


newspapers 
om  1872  to 


Estimated  Number  of  Post-Cards.  3                                   J 

England  &  Wales. 

Scotland.  » 

SS  Ireland.  M- 

United  Kingdom. 

II 

t-  B 

Tear. 

as 

as 

&§ 

Number; 

Number. 

Number. 

Number. 

it 

1872 

64,000,000 

8,000,000 

4,000.000 

76,000,000 

1875 

73,369,100 

11 -e 

9,206,30C 

6-7 

4,540,900     6-5 

87,116,300 

10-7 

1878-79 

94,471,800 

9-8 

11,599,00C 

.4-8 

5,375,200     6-0 

111,446,700 

9-0 

1381-82 

114,251,500 

10-4 

14,051,40C 

9-3 

6,426,100     6-9 

135,329,000 

10-1 

1882-83 

121,243,300 

6-1 

15,541 ,80C 

6-1 

7,230,900,  12-5 

144,016,000 

6-4 

1888-e4ll28,554,80(< 

6-0 

17,406,400 

9-3    1  7,624,0001    5-4 

153,586,100 

6-6 

Estimate*  Number  of  Book-Packets  and  Circulars.                     1 

isr?  ? 

90,000,000 

15-2 

13,000,000 

„ 

11,000,000 

114,000,000 

..- 

1875 

133,304,90C 

15,723,700 

,, 

9,548,006 

168,666,600 

11-7 

ls;'8-79 

164,789,400 

4-5 

21,320,100 

10,907,000 

6-7 

197,076,600 

41 

1881-82 

228,9»9,40C 

12-3 

27,875,000 

15-0 

14,104,300 

16-9 

271,038,700 

12-8 

1882-83 

244,713,800 

6-9 

28,896,000 

3-7 

14,690,600 

3-1 

288,206,400 

6-3 

1888-84 

249,347,000 

1-9 

31,353,700 

7-8 

13,892,900 

4-9 

294,594,500     2-2    | 

'' 

" 

-  -_    — 

C  ■ 

--.i      l(dec)l-                   '         -| 

Estimated  Number  of  Newspapers.                                  | 

1872       87,000,000 

..     112,000,000 

~. 

10.000,000 

..-  109,000,000 

..^ 

1876        93,345,600 

2-3 

•3,81-9,100 

4-5 

13,884,700 

10-2 

121,049,400 

3-4 

1878-79  100,424,300 

2-2 

14.477,500 

15,993,500 

3-6 

130,895,300 

1-8 

1881-82108,051,700 

6-7 

15,477,300 

2-4 

16,660,100 

4-7 

140,789,100 

6-2 

1M2.83'108,613,500 

15,784,000 

2-0 

16,204,500 

fi 

140,602,600 

1883-84  109,945,100 

l-'2 

16,729,600     6-6 

16,027,600 

142,702,300 

1-6 

Table  IX.  (compare  with  Table  VI.)  gives  the  estimated  number 
jbf  letters,  &c.,  which  passed  between  the  United  Kingdom  aud 
toun tries  abroad  during  the  year  ending  31st  March  1884.^ 


African  Colonics  (Brit.) 

ArRontine  Republic 

Australia     and     New 
Zealand 

AuKtria-Ilpogary 

Belgium 

Bra/il    

Canada 

Denni.ark 

Enypt  

France  and  Algeria  .... 

Oermany 

Orcoco  

Uollond   ;."." 

India  and  Ceylon 

Itoly 

Norway    

''"rtiigal .'.'.'.'.'. 

Hii-nia 

Sjiaiii     

Swclrn '.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'. 

Switzerland 

Turkey ■    ■■■ 

''"Itcl  Stntra!!.'.'.""." 
"  est  Indies  fBritlah)  . . 


Received  from 
Countries  abroad. 


Letters 
and 
post- 
cards. 


1,049,000 

96,200 

1,801,600 

679,400 

1,620,000 

177,300 

l,.505,0OO 

443,400 

452,400 

7,665,700 

6,880,800 

123,600 

1,600,400 

2,248,000 

1,821,600 

362,200 

399,800 

624  200 

840,1100 

877,800 

892,900 

887,300 

7,679,800 

260.600 


Book 

Packets 

and 

News- 
papers. 


885,000 

66,300 

1,949,600 

2S1,700 
6C2.70O 

60,100 

1,120,800 

197,000 

184,700 

7,127.700 

2,903, 600 

64,900 
429,:i00 
806,000 
643,700 

62,000 

83,800 
261,600 
467,400 

06,300 
384,100 

89,100 

7,861,400 

109.200 


Despatched  to 
Countries  abroad. 


Letters 
and 
post- 
cards. 


1,645,600 

108,700 

2,229,000 

095,400 

1,784,400 

206,100 

1,802,200 

.   463,900 

084,500 

8,217,200 

7,129,000 

123,900 

1,605,100 

2,0,'.2,"00 

2,738,600 

467,800 

351,900 

718,000 

909.500 

400,700 

986,.')00 

392,000 

9,0S8,900 

55,700 


Book 

Packets 

and 

News- 
papers. 


2,832,600 

182,000 

4,431,300 

605,700 

747,300 

843,200 

2,139,200 

179,400 

665,200 

4,579,400 

3, 14.3,  .'.00 

135,000 

009,200 

4,065,200 

1,666,700 

169,800 

337,000 

477,800 

858,400 

230,300 

617,'JOO 

461,800 

8,389,800 

607,800 


Total." 


0,412,200, 

602,200  I 

10,411,300  I 

2,062,500 

4,814.400 

837,000 ' 

6,627,200 

1,273  iOO 

1,880,800 

27,500,000 

20,110,900 

437,.|00 

4,133,000 

9,771,900 

0,sr.9,400 

1,041.800 

1,1 72,  ,^00 

2,07.'i,600 

3,081,700 

1,17.3,100 

2,879,700 

1,280,800 

.32.909,900 

1,328,200 


«  TliMitlh  Ptpnrt  oflh'  Poalmastrr-ri-nrrvl  1R14,  p.  14 
"  Ibid.,  p.  IS.  S  Ibid.,  pp.  IB.  17 


Meanwhile  the  position  of  many  efficient  workers  in  the  postaj 
service,  who  had  helped  to  bring  about  these  satisfactory  results, 
stood  gi-eatly  in  need  of  improvement.  The  humbler  class  ol 
clerks,  most  of  the  sorters,  and  the  entire  body  of  metropolitan 
letter-carriers  were  prominent  in  expressing  discontent,  and  they 
were  able  to  show  good  grounds  for  it.  The  telegraphists  soon 
follo^^-ed  -nith  like  representations,  though  their  hardships  wera 
assuredly  less.  The  result  has  been  a  large  measure  of  amelioration 
in  pay  and  in  position,  effected  in  part  by  Lord  John  Manners,  and 
more  especially  by  Mr  Fawcett,  who  in  1883  estimated  that  these 
improvements  would  involve  an  annual  cost  of  about  £63,000. 

The  systematic  employment  of  women  in  Her  Majesty's  postal 
and  telegraph  service  was  for  a  long  time  an  experiment  and  a 
problem.  It  may  now  be  said,  most  accurately,  that,  on  the  whole,' 
the  experiment  is  grandly  successful,  and  the  problem  fully  solved, 
In  telegraphic  labour  female  counter-clerks  and  telegraphists  wen 
actively  employed  before  the  transfer  to  the  state.  The  postmaster- 
general  of  1870  (Lord  Hartington)  did  but  accept  what  he  found 
established  Under  the  new  regulation,  he  employed  vomen  as  tele- 
graphists for  eight  hours  daily,  at  scales  of  pay  which  varied  from 
eight  shillings  a  week  to  thirty,  according  to  age,  intelligence,  and 
practical  experience  of  the  work.  At  first  the  women  were  put  into 
separate  galleries,  afterwards  into  the  same  galleries  with  men  and 
boys  ;  and  the  change  was  found  to  work  advantageously  for  alL 
As  regards  the  postal  service  proper,  the  general  introduction  there- 
into of  female  labour  was  elfected,  under  the  rule  of  Lord  John 
JIanners,  by  Sir  John  TUlcv.  The  situations  w-cre  eagerly  sought 
for.  At  the  close  of  1880  there  were  in  the  three  capital  cities  of 
London,  Edinburgh,  and  Dublin  alone  very  nearly  a  thousand 
female  telegraphists;  and  throughout  the  kingdom  a  number  not 
much  inferior  of  women  of  various  grades,  employed  in  minor 
postal  services,  over  and  above  the  number  of  those  whoso  employ. 
ment  is  but  an  incident  of  their  family  position,  as  the  irives  and 
daughters  of  sub-postmasters  and  the  like.  The  best  and  the  most 
entirely  successful  experiment  of  all  was  that  of  1875,  which  offered 
postal  clerkships  expressly  to  "  gentlewomen,"  and  conspicuously  to 
the  daughters  of  officers  of  the  army  and  navy  and  of  officials  in  the 
civil  service,  admissible  only  between  seventeen  and  tn-entv  years 
of  age  after  six  months'  satisfactory  probation,  and  organized  in 
1876  into  two  classes,  each  under  a  lady  superior,  who  holds  tha 
position  of  a  staff-officer.  All  promotions  arc  made  acconling  to 
merit.  Those  of  class  I.  have  i'80  to  £100,  and  the  "principal 
female  clerks  £100  to  £160  a  year;  class  IL  £40  to  £70.  The 
same  work  which  formerly  occupied  male  clerks  at  £80  to  £240  is 
now  equally  well  done  by  female  clerks  at  £40  to  £75,  and  ao  is 
proportion  with  the  other  classes."  * 

Subjoined  are  (l)the  latest  financi.il  .statement  of  postal  crpoidU 
turc  for  the  year  1883-84,  and  (2)  some  compaiiBons  of  tho  net* 
revenue  of  tho  post-offico  at  various  periods. 

United  K'ingdom.^^-Fxpeiiditiirc  for  yfar  ending  Ist  March  1884. 

Posf-olTlcc  services,  postal  savings  Iwuiks,  nnnultlcn branch,  Aq.  £4,.'.0r,/.00 

Wnll-packot  service - 721,100 

Telegraph  service „....». 1.707.000 


Grand  total £6.035,600 

jn  1643  ^ho  nett  revenue  was  about  £5000  a  year.  In  1663  it 
was  farmed  to  John  Mnnley  for  £10,000  a  year,  and  ton  years' 
afterwards  to  Daniel  /I'Neill  for  £21,500.  In"  1677  tho  farm' rent 
wna  raised  to  £43,000.  In  1685  the  nclt  revenue  h.id  grown  to 
£65,000.  in  1707  to  £111,426,  in  1790  to  £3.tl,180,  in  1800  to 
£720,982.  In  1808  the  nett  revenue  (for  Great  Britain)  \ru 
£1,100,606,  in  1820-21  £^,495,946,  in  1839  £1,659,510,  in  1S49 


I     *  Ouarlerlu  Itcultw,  1881,  vol.  cll.  p.  187— an  arlicle  bv  Lady  Joh.n  Mann«-» 


572 


P  O  S  T-0  F  F  I  C  E 


[money  order.?. 


£740,429,  in  1859  £1,349,676,  in  1869  £2,198,220,"  in  1881 
£2,597,768,  in  1882  (inclusive  of  telegraphs)  £3,100,475,  in  1883 
£3,061.748,  and  in  18S4  £2,^97,427." 

Money-Order  Department. 
The  money-order  branch  of  the  post^ofiBce  was  for  forty 
years  the  private  enterprise  of  three  post-office  clerks 
known  as  "  Stow  and  Company."  It  was  commenced  in 
1'792,  with  the  special  object  of  facilitating  the  safe  con- 
veyance of  small  sums  to  soldiers  and  sailors,  but  was  soon 
extended  to  all  classes  of  small  remitters.  The  postmaster- 
general  sanctioned  the  scheme  without  interposing  in  the 
management.  Each  of  the  three  partners  advanced  £1000 
to  carry  it  on  ;  and  each  of  them  seems,  during  the  greater 
portion  of  the  period,  to  have  derived  about  £200  a  year 
in  profit.  In  1830  the  amount  of  remittances  from 
London  was  only  about  £10,000.  The  percentage  was 
eightpence  in  the  pound,  out  of  which  threepence  were 
allotted  to  each  of  the  postmasters  receiving  and  paying, 
the  remaining  twopence  forming  the  profit  of  the  partners. 
On  6th  December  J838  the  office  was  converted  into  an 
official  department  under  the  postmaster-general, — the  then 
partners  receiving  due  compensation.  The  commission 
was  reduced  to  a  fixed  charge  of  Is.  6d.  for  sums  exceed- 
ing £2  and  tinder  £5,  and  of  6d.  for  all  sums  not  exceed- 
ing £2.  In  1840  these  rates  were  reduced  to  6d.  and  3d. 
respectively.  The  number  and  aggregate  amount  of  the 
orders  issued  (inland,  colonial,  and  foreign)  in  different 
periods  from  the  reorganization  (1839)  until  1884  are  as 
follows  (Table  X.) :— 


Year3. 

Kumber. 

Amount.            1 

1839    

188,921 
2,806,803 

£313,124 

5,695,395 

8,152,643 

10,462,411 

16,624,503 

19,847,258 

27,638,255 

7,194,943 

27,303,093 
26,371,020 
26,003,582 
25,393,574 
27,597,883 
27,629,879 

1844                     

1849    

18'S4                     

4,248,891 
5,466,244 
8,055,227 
9,720,030 
16,819,874 

1861-65  faveraf^el 

1866-70             

1875                  

1876'  (first  three  months 

only) 
1878-79     

4.436.858 

17,740,622 
17,307,573 
16,935,005 
15,383,033 
15,090,858 
14,663,635 

1879-80         

1880-81  

1881-82*     

1882-83       

1833-84  

'  From  1871  to  the  end  of  1877,  the  rates  having  been  reduced  to 
Id.  for  sums  under  lOs.,  and  2d.  for  sums  of  10s.  and  under  20s., 
increasing  by  a  graduated  scale  of  Id.  for  each  additional  £1  or 
fraction  thereof,  inland  orders  failed  to  be  remunerative  ;  and  it 
was  only  by  reckoning  as  profit  the  amount  of  unclaimed  and 
forfeited  orders  that  the  cost  to  the  office  of  inland  orders  could 
be  covered.  But,  as  the  loss  was  only  on  orders  for  very  small 
Bums,  Mr  Chetwynd  proposed  to  meet  it  by  issuing  postal  notes 
payable  at  any  post-ofhce  without  previous  notice.  When  the  plan 
was  submitted  to  a  committee  appointed  by  the  treasury,  it  was 
objected  that  the  postal  note  as  a  remitting  medium  would  be  less 
secure  than  the  money  order.  The  objection  was  met  in  part  by 
giving  a  discretionary  power  to  fill  in  the  name  of  the  post-office 
and  also  that  of  the  payee,  and  no  practical  inconvenience  or  cause 
of  complaint  seems  to  have  resultecl.     And  in  like  manner  another 

*  Average  of  five  years,  and  exclusive  of  telegraphs. 

-  In  the  Thirlieth  Report  of  the  Poslmasler-Gcneral  (1884)  the 
fcmount  is  stated  as  £2,687,100.  The  statement  in  the  text  is  from 
the  Analysed  Account  of  the  Public  Income  and  Expeyiditure,  pre- 
sented to  parliament  by  the  treasury  in  July  1884,  and  is  unquestion- 
ably the  correct  one.  The  comparative  deficiency  as  compared  with 
1883  is  due  to  the  expenditure  of  £350,000  for  plant  in  the  telegraphs 
and  parcel-post  departments. 

2  From  1877  onwards  the  official  accounts  are  made  up  to  31st 
March  in  each  year. 

*  The  figures  for  this  year  are  those  given  in  the  general  tabular 
^capitulation  of  the  appendix  to  the  Twenty-eighth  Report  of  Post- 
master-Oeneral,  1882,  p.  40.  In  the  body  of  the  same  report  (p.  8) 
they  are  stated  at  14,880,821  and  £23,848,936  respectively.  The 
tabular  figures  are  those  also  of  the  Twentij-ninlh  Report,  1883,  and 
of  the  Thirtieth  Report,  1884. 


objection  which  was  urged  against  the  new  form  of  money  order 
in  several  quarters,  and  very  strongly  in  the  Banker's  Magazine — 
namely,  that  they  would  prove  to  be  an  issue  of  Government  small 
notes  under  another  name — has  derived  no  support  from  experience. 
"It  is  found,"  says  the  postmaster-general,  "that  the  average  time 
[during]  which  these  orders  are  in  circulation  is  six  days, — a  fact 
which  shows  that  there  was  no  foundation  for  the  idea  that  theyj 
would  be  used  as  currency."'  The  statistics  of  notes  issued  under 
the  provisions  of  the  Postal  Orders  Act,  43  and  44  Vict.  c.  33  (1880),' 
are  as  follows  (Table  XI.) : — 


Number. 

Value. 

1881  (quarter  ending  31st  March) 

1881-82   

18S2-S3    

W6.089 

4,462,920 

7,980,328 

12,286,556 

£202,150 
2,006,918 
3,451,284 
6,028,663 

1883-84    

Total.. 

35,376,793 

£10,779,015 

The  postal  notes  most  largely  in  request  arc  those  of  Is. ,  5s.,  lOs.; 
and  20s.  In  1884  plans  were  under  the  postmaster-general's  con- 
sideration for  improving  the  regulations  and  for  extending  the 
system  to  the  colonies.  Meanwhile  the  money-order  business,! 
which  for  several  years  past  had  been  constantly  declining  both  iiv 
number  and  in  value,  was  on  the  increase.  In  foreign^  and  in! 
colonial  orders  the  increase  was  in  the  number  as  well  as  in  the, 
amount.  The  inland  orders  showed  an  increase  in  value  of  nearlvj 
two  millions  sterling  (£1,856,091)  in  1882-83  as  compared  with 
1881-82,  although  their  number  was  smaller  by  386,531.  In  1883- 
84  there  was  a  decrease  of  0'84  per  cent,  in  the  value  as  compared, 
with  that  of  1882-83,  whilst  the  increase  in  the  number  of  postal 
orders  during  the  same  year  was  more  than  four  millions,  the 
increase  in  value  being  more  than  £1,500,000. 

The  relative  amount  of  the  money-order  business  of  the  chie^ 
towns  of  the  United  Kingdom  is  shown  in  Table  XII.'  It  states 
the  number  and  amount  of  the  orders  paid  in  each  town  on  one 
day  only  (5th  May  1876),  and  for  the  sake  of  comparison  the  cor- 
responding figures  for  one  day  in  1884  (5th  May)  are  appended : — f 


6th  May  1S76. 


London  (senrral  post-office)  . 

Edinburgh  

Dublin 

Manche^t^r 

Liverpool     

Glasgow  

Bristol 

Leeds     

Hull 


5th  May  1884. 


Total  of  Orders 
paid. 


Total  of  Orders 
paid. 


Num- 
ber. 


694 
llSl 
1056 
1019 
8S2 
635 
600 
393 


Amount. 


£14,802 
1,060 
1,550 
2.166 
2,406 
1,855 
1,140 
948 
935 


Paid  through 
Bankers. 


Num- 
ber. 


8339 
380 
731 
215 
73 
526 
171 
95 
13 


£14,073 
657 
983 
606 
115 
1,169 
493 
253 
20 


Paid  through 
Bankers, 


London    (general 

post-otfice) 
EdinburghS    ..    . 

Dublin 

Manchester 

Liverpool 

Glasgow   

Bristol 

I^eds     

Hull    


Num- 
ber. 


9117 

420 
935 
960 
1074 

loss 

339 
420 
294 


Amount.    Number. 


£16,27^         8,784 


760 

1,350 

1,914 

2,755 

2,174 

752 

765 

617 


254 

776 

no  record 


£15,608 

SS5 
1,112 
no  record 


Postal  Orders. 


Num- 


307 
547 
519 
371 
93 
271 
319 
158 


134 
198 
210 
166 

93 
114 
148 

67 


Postal  Savings  Banks. 

The  establishment  of  post-office  savings  banks  was  prac-Sa^;» 
tically  suggested  in  the  year  1860  by  Mr  Charles  William  ban. 
Sykes  of  Huddersfield,  whose  suggestion  was  cordially 
received  by  Jlr  Gladstone,  then  chancellor  of  the  exchequer, 
to  whose  conspicuous  exertions  in  parliament  the  effectual 
working-out  of  the  measure  and  also  many  and  great 
improvements  in  its  details  are  substantially  and  unques- 
tionably due.  Half  a  century  earlier  (1807)  it  had  been 
proposed  to  utilize  the  then  existing  (and  very  rudimentary) 
money-order  branch  of  the  post-office  for  the  collection  and 

'   Twenty-eighth  Report  of  Postmaster-General,  1882,  p.  8. 

*  The  rate  of  commission  on  foreign  money  orders  w.ts  reduced  on 
Ut  January  1883  by  one-third.  To  all  countries  within  the  Posta^ 
Union  (see  infra,  p.  583  sq.)  it  is  now  6d.  for  sums  not  exceeding  £%i 
Is    for  £5  ;  Is.  6d.  for  £7  ;  2s.  for  £10. 

'  Fractions  of  fl  are  omitted. 

'  The  figures  for  7th  May  are  given,  as  the  6th  was  a  partial 
holiday  in  Edinburgh. 


SAVINGS  BANKS.] 


P  0  S  T-0  F  F  I  C  E 


573 


transmission  of  savings  from  all  parts  of  the  country  to  a 
central  savings  bank  to  be  established  in  London.  A 
Bill  to  that  effect  was  brought  into  the  House  of  Commons 
by  Mr  Whitbread,  but  it  failed  to  receive  adequate  sup- 
port, and  was  withdrawn.  \A'Tien  Mr  Sykes  revived  the 
proposal  of  1807  the  number  of  savings  banks  managed 
by  trustees  was  638,  but  of  these  about  350  were  open 
only  for  a  few  hours  on  a  single  day  of  the  week.  Only 
twenty  throughout  the  kingdom  were  open  daily.  Twenty- 
four  towns  containing  upwards  of  ten  thousand  inhabitants 
each  were  without  any  savings  bank.  Fourteen  entire 
counties  were  without  any.  In  the  existing  banks  the 
average  amount  of  a  deposit  was  £i,  6s.  5d. 

Mr  Gladstone's  Bill — entitled  "An  Act  to  grant  addi- 
tional facilities  for  depositing  small  savings  at  interest, 
Avith  the  security  of  Government  for  the  due  repayment 
thereof" — received  the  royal  assent  on  the  17th  of  May 
1861,  and  was  brought  into  operation  on  the  16th  of  Sep- 
tember following.  The  banks  first  opened  were  situated 
in  places  theretofore  unprovided.  In  February  1862  the 
Act  was  brought  into  operation  both  in  Scotland  and  in 
Ireland.  Within  two  years  nearly  all  the  money -order 
offices  of  the  United  Kingdom  became  savings  banks ; 
about  367,000  new  deposit  accounts  were  opened,  repre- 
senting an  aggregate  payment  of  £4,702,000,  including 
a  sum  of  more  than  £500,000  transferred  from  trustee  sav- 
ings banks  the  accounts  of  which  were  closed.  At  the  end 
of  1863  the  number  of  accounts  in  the  post-office  banks 
was  319,669,  with  an  aggregate  deposit  of  £3,377,480. 
The  average  amount  of  each  deposit  was  £3,  2s.  lid.  In 
1867  the  number  of  post-office  savings  banks  in  the 
United  Kingdom  was  3629,  that  of  depositors  in  them 
854,983,  the  amount  sUnding  to  their  credit  £9,749,929. 
The  average  amount  of  each  deposit  was  about  £2, 1 8s.  At 
the  end  of  1878  there  were  in  the  United  Kingdom  5831 
post-office  savings  banks;  the. number  of  depositors  was 
1,892,756;  and  the  amount  standing  to  their  credit, 
inclusive  of  interest,  was  £30,411,563.  At  the  end  of 
1882  the  number  of  banks  was  6999,  the  number  of  depo- 
sitors 2,858,976,  and  the  amount  standing  to  their  credit 
£39,037,821.  This  sum  was  increased  at  the  end  of  the 
ordinary  financial  year,  31st  March  1883  (the  savings  banks 
accounts  being  made  up,  in  conformity  with  the  Act  of 
1861,  to  31st  December),  to  £40,087,000.  The  average 
amount  of  each  deposit  was  about  £2,  as  against  £4,  6s.  5d. 
in  the  trustee  savings  banks  prior  to  the  passing  of  the 
Act  of  1861. 

On  31st  December  1883  the  number  of  depositors  was 
3,105,642,  and  the  aggregate  amount  standing  to  their 
credit  (including  interest)  was  £41,768,808;  the  amount 
of  expenses  remaining  unpaid  was  about  £11,000.  The 
aggregate  value  of  securities  and  amount  of  cash  in  the 
hands  of  the  national  debt  commissioners  was  £43,294,949. 
The  amount  of  cash  in  the  hands  of  Her  Majesty's  post- 
master-general was  £316,853.  The  aggregate  assets  were 
£43,697,932.  The  surplus  of  assets  over  liabilities  was 
£1,918,116.  At  the  beginning  of  1884  the  total  amount 
received  from  depositors,  including  interest,  stood  at 
£173,660,388,  the  total  amount  repaid  to  depositors  at 
£131,891,580.  The  aggregate  number  of  deposits  from 
the  outset  of  postal  savings  banks  was  62,154,832,  that 
of  withdrawals  21,612,727,  the  number  of  accounts  opened 
9,225,575,  that  of  accounts  closed  6,119,933,  that  of 
accounts  remaining  open  3,105,642.  The  total  cost  of 
these  banks  was  £2,698,547.  The  aggregate  number  of 
transactions  of  all  kinds  was  83,767,558.  The  average 
cost  of  each  transaction  was  7y'^.  It  marks  the  accuracy 
of  the  Government  actuaries  to  note  that,  prior  to  the  pass- 
ing of  the  Savings  Banks  Act  of  1861,  the  estimated  cost 
of  each  transaction  thereunder  was  stated  at  7d. 


Any  depositor  in  the  post-office  savings  bank  can  invest' 
his  deposit  in  Government  stock  by  making  proper  appli-' 
cation  to  the  controller  of  the  savings  bank  department,' 
London,  provided  that  the  sum  be  not  less  than  £10,  or 
than  the  amount  of  the  current  price  of  £lO  stock  together 
with  the  commission,  whichever  sum  is  the  smaller ;  not 
more  than  £100  stock  can  be  credited  to  an  account  ii; 
any  year  ending  31st  December,  or  £300  stock  in  alL' 
Within  seven  days  from  the  receipt  of  the  applicatioij 
the  depositor's  account  is  charged  with  the  current  pric« 
of  the  stock  purchased,  with  the  commission,  the  del 
positor  receiving  an  investment  certificate  as  evidence  oil 
the  transfer. 

As  to  investments  in  stock,  the  postmaster-general  rw 
ports  in  1884  that  the  total  amount  of  Government  stock 
on  31st  December  1883  standing  to  the  credit  of  depositorj 
was  £1,519,983  heldby20,767  persons,  against  £1,143,717 
held  by  16,609  persons  in  1882,— an  increase  of  £376,266 
in  amount  and  of  4158  in  the  number  of  stockholders: 
The  average  amount  of  stock  held  by  each  person  at  the. 
end  of  the  year  was  £73,  3s.  lOd.,  as  compared  with 
£68,  17s.  3d.  in  1882.  During  the  seven  years  1877  to 
1883,  inclusive,  the  average  sum  annually  paid  into  the 
exchequer  (under  §  14  of  the  Act  above  named)  as  the 
excess  of  accruing  interest  was  £127,192. 

The  apportionment  of  the  outstanding  accounts  and 
their  relation  in  each  part  of  the  United  Kingdom  to  tba 
population,  respectively,  stood  as  follows  at  the  close  of 
each  of  the  years  1881,  1882,  and  1883':— 


Table  Xlll.i 


{Number  and  Amount  of  Open  Accounts  in 
Post-Office  Savings  Banks. 


Tear  18S1.            [| 

Year  1882.              ] 

No. 

Amounts 

No. 

Amount.' 

2,318,113    i 

87,054 

5,779 

99,568 

97,100 

:32,670,307 

1,016,920 

84,183 

699,688 

1,723,395 

U,643,785 

108,701 
108,490^ 

[£39,037,821 

Walea 

Small  islands    

Ireland    

Total 

2,607,612    t 

:36,194,495 

2,858,976 

£39,037,831 

Year  1883. 

No. 

Amount  witl 
Interest. 

Proportion 
to  Popula- 
tion. 

Average 
of  each 

Deposit. 

England,  Wales,  and  «d- 

2,874.4581 
116,208   ■ 
114,978. 

£41,768.808 

Mto9 
.^  1  to  33 
1.1  to  44 

£13  10.'« 
7    6    3 
17  16  11. 

Total  

3,105,642 

During  the  year  1883  nearly  two  millions  and  three  quarters 
sterling  (£2,730,987)  of  postal  savings  bank  deposits  were  made  in 
excess  of  those  of  the  year  1882.  Only  seven  small  trustee  savings 
banks  were  ^closed  during  the  year  1883.  During  that  year  823 
new  postal  savings  banks  were  opened  iu  England  and  Wales,  83 
in  Scotland,  and  14  in  Ireland.  At  the  close  of  the  year  the  total 
number  for  the  United  Kingdom  was  7369.  On  31st  March  l884 
that  number  was  increased  to  7475.  The  year  1874  counts  among 
the  flourishing  years  of  trade,  1884  among  the  depressed  yearti 
But  since  1874  the  aggregate  amount  of  savings  deposits  in  postal 
banks  has  very  nearly  doubled  without  any  noticeable  diminution 
in  the  business  transacted  by  the  trustee  savings  banks,  and  th» 
number  of  depositors  has  also  nearly  doubled. 

In  England  the  county  of  Middlesex  ranks  first  with  612,229 
depositors  (1881)  and  an  aggregate  deposit  of  £7,146,375  ;  tb 
Wales,  Glamorganshire  with  32,573  depositors  and  £371,419  )  in 
Scotland,  Lanarkshire  with  14,763  depositors  and  £104,550;  ia 
Ireland,  Dublin  county  with  26,480  depositors  and  £367,672.  At 
the  close  of  1882  the  aggregate  sum  due  to  depositors  in  the  last- 
named  county  had  increased  to  £398,994.  The  increase  of  let* 
years  in  the  Irish  deposits  is,  it  may  be  added,  very  conspicuoM, 


'  Tlie  figures  of  1881  are  from  a  return  dated  10th  August  IfflS 
(Commons'  Session  Papers,  1882,  No.  347).  The  figures  of  1882  *n 
from  Ticenlv-nintA  Report  of  the  Poslmatter-General,  1883  ;  those  of 
1883  from  the  Thirtieth  Report,  1884. 

'  Inclnding  fractions  of  £1,  omitted  in  the  particulars  above. 


574 


POST-OFFICE 


[TELEGBAFHa 


and  extends  to  every  county  of  the  kingdom.  The  aggregate  sum 
flue  to  depositors  throughout  Ireland  in  1873  -"vas  £845,550;  in 
1873  it  was  £1,325,806,  and  in  1882  £1,925,430,  in  addition  to 
£125,000  of  Goremment  stock  standing  to  the  credit  of  depositors, 
or,  in  the  whole,  £2,050,460. 

Of  the  638  trustee  savings  banks  which  existed  in  the  United 
Kingdom  at  the  date  of  the  establishment  of  the  post-ofEce  system 
230  have  been  closed.  Fifteen  new  trustee  banks  have  been  opened ; 
so  that  tlie  number  now  existing  is  423,  as  compared  with  7475  post- 
office  savings  banks. 

Under  the  Act  45  and  46  Vict.  c.  51  (1882)  the  postmaster- 
general  will  insure  the  lives  of  persons  of  either  sex  between  the 
ages  of  fourteen  and  sixty-five,  inclusive,  for  any  sum  not  less  than 
£0  or  more  than  £100  ;  but  where  the  amount  does  not  exceed  £5 
the  earlier  limit  of  age  is  eight  years.  An  annuity,  immediate  or 
deferred,  for  any  sum  not  less  than  £1  or  not  more  than  £100  will 
be  granted  by  the  postmaster-general,  under  the  same  Act,  to  any 


'  person  not  under  five  years  of  age.  The  transactions  take  plac« 
I  through  the  medium  of  the  savings  bank  departments.  Husband 
and  wife  may  each  purchase  an  annuity  up  to  the  maximum  amountj 
and  each  may  be  insured  up  to  the  full  amount  of  £100.  Condi« 
tions  of  contract  in  the  case  of  annuities  depend  upou  the  age  and 
sex  of  the  purchaser,  together  with,  where  the  annuity  is  deferred, 
the  number  of  years  which  are  to  elapse  before  the  commencement 
of  the  annuity  ;  they-also  vary  according  as  the  purchase  money 
is  to  be  returned  or  not.  The  premiums  charged  for  insurances 
vary  with  the  age  of  the  insurer  and  the  mode  in  which  the  insur- 
ance is  effected.  The  insurer,  if  not  under  sixteen  years  of  a^e, 
enjoys  the  right  of  nominating  the  person  to  whom  the  money  duo 
at  his  or  her  death  is  to  be  paid.  The  contracts  for  annuities  and 
life  insurances  in  connexion  with  the  savings  bank  branch  of  th» 
post-oi£ce  began  on  17th  April  1865.  The  following  table  (XIV.j 
shows  the  amount  of  business  done  in  different  periods  down  ta 
the  year  1883 :— 


Tear. 

Annuitieb. 

Life  Iwsuhajjces.i 

Immediate. 

Deferred. 

Fees.* 

ContracfeB 
entered  into. 

Receipta. 

Payments, 

Contracts 
entered  into. 

Ee-  •■ 
ceipts. 

"o  O 

ill 

Faymeuts. 

Contracts 
entered  into. 

Eeceipts. 

PajTuents.i 

No. 

*-< 

^^  1 

No. 

No. 

Amount  of 
Annuities  . 
■and  Monthly 
Allowances. 

No. 

Amount  of 
Purchase    • 
Money  and 
Instalments 
of  Premium. 

No. 

-  4i  ; 

§ 
'1- 

Na* 

a  a 

,11- 

No. 

'Si' 

c  s 

o'i 

•11  > 

No. 

Amount  of 
Claims  on 
Death  and 
Surrender. 

1865 
187«3 
1875 
>1880 
1881 
1882 
18S3 

f87 
806 
682 
892 
956 
799 
770. 

£2,100 
6,120 
7,926 
13,249 
16,434 
13,435 
14,141 

£52,733 
67,733 
85,781 
146,562 
184,737 
155,528 
159,630 

82 

2,629 
11,129 
14,933 
15,808 
16,729 
17,302 

£423 
26,099 
63,641 
101,734 
121,111 
122,123 
130,053 

46 

67 
84 
41 

66 
.72 
104 

£949 

1195 
?68 
847 
1376 
1502 
2120 

67 
614 
661 
621 
666 
772 
830 

£1342 
8629 
3648 
4406 
6243 
6449 
7240 

"9 
10 
119 

131 
166 
163 

£346 
52« 
1670 
1763 
2327 
1893 

£139 
347 
421 
695 
873 
727 
790 

547 
'385 
870 
258 
300 
234 
256 

£40,647 
31,254 
82,022 
20,378 

'23,900 
18,447 
20,600 

r  1,076 

9,274 
14,5^9 
16,379 
15,SS3 
16,039 
16,156 

£1,165 
6,877 
9.500 
10,606 
10,967 
11,069 
11,333 

'89 
84 
125 
•114 
141 
129 

•  £1676 
8127 
3886 
3675 
S694 
5431 

Postal  Telegraphs. 
To  the  chamber  of  commerce  of  Edinburgh  belongs  the 
honour  of  effectually  originating  that  public  demand  for 
the  transfer  of  the  telegraphic  service  of  the  United  King- 
dom from  commercial  companies  to  the  state  which  led  to 
the  passing  of  the  Acts  of  Parliament  of  1868  and  1869. 
There  had,  indeed,  been  several  like  proposals  by  indi- 
viduals in  preceding  years.  <.  Mr  Thomas  Allan  proposed 
^uch  a  transfer  in  1854.  ■  Two  years  later  the  scheme  was 
jdvocated  by  Mr  Baines  of  the  general  post-office,  and 
afterwards  by  Mr  Ricardo.  But  these  proposals  had  no 
practical  effect  until  after  the  action  taken  at  Edinburgh, 
mainly  at  the  instance  of  Mr  (now  Sir)  George  Harrison, 
convener  of  the  chamber.  '•  The  committee  of  inquiry  then 
appointed  showed  conclusively  that  the  telegrapluo  service, 
as  managed  by  the  companies,  (1)  maintained  excessive 
nharges,  (2)  occasioned  frequent  and  vexatious  delays  in 
the  transmission  of  messages,  and  inaccui'acies  in  the 
tendering  of  them,  (3)  left  a  large  number  of  important 
towns  and  districts  whoUy  unprovided  for,  and  (4)  placed 
special  difficulties  in  the  way  of  that  newspaper  press 
which  had;  in  the  interest  of  the  public,  a  claim  so  just 
md  so  obvious  to  special  facilities.  The  committee  also 
proved  that,  great  as  *ere  the  just  causes  of  public  com- 
plaint at  the  date  of  its  inquiry,  they  would  have  been 
greater  still  but  for  a  considerable  reduction  of  charge 
effected  by,  and  in  consequence  of,  the  establishment  in 
1861  of  the  United  Kingdom  Company, — a  company 
opposed  by  a  formidable  combination  of  its  competitors, 
which  forced  it  to  abandon  the  uniform  shilling  rate,  irre- 
spective of  distance,  with  which  it  started.*  The  Edin- 
burgh chamber  was  unanimous  in  supporting  the  plan  of 
a  uniform  sixpenny  rate,  and  that  proposal  was  speedily 

•  Prior  to  the  year  1875  the  payments  consisted  of  purchase  money 
returned  only,  no  annuities  being  payable  till  after  the,  lapse  of ^ten 
yxa. 

•  On  immediate  and  deferred  annuity  contracta,.  tKB.  charges  on 
monthly  allowasces  bsing  included  in  the  premium. 

'  Claims  on  surrender  value  of  life  insurance  contracts  commenced 
In  this  year. 
^  Paptra  on  EUctric  TeUgraphs,  1868,  pp.  63,  55,  202  ag. 


endorsed  by  the  other  chambers  of  commerce  througjiouti 
the  kingdom.  "When  the  inquiry  of  1865  was  instituted 
the  total  number  of  places  supplied  with  telegraphic  com- 
munication  by  all  the  companies  collectively  was  abouft 
1000,  whereas  the  number  of  places  having  postal  com- 
munication at  the  same  date  was  10,685  The  telegraph 
offices  were  placed  most  inconveniently  for  the  service 
of  the  population  generally,  and  especially  for  that  of  the 
suburbs  of  large  towns;  and  under  the  then  existing 
telegraphic  tariff  the  charge  in  Great  Britain  was  a  shilling 
for  a  twenty-word  message  over  distances  not  exceeding 
100  miles;  Is.  6d.  for  a  like  message  over  distances  from 
100  to  200  miles;  2s.  when  exceeding  200  milesj  For  a 
message  between  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  the  bhargq 
ranged  from  3s.  to  63. ;  to  Jersey  or  Guernsey  it  was  7s.  8d. 
There  were  also  innumerable  extra  charges,  undei  con» 
tingent  regulations  of  great  complexity,  which  commonly 
added  50  per  cent,  to  the  primary  charge,  and  frequsntlj 
doubled  it. 

The  Edinburgh" committee  considered  in  turn" the  re- 
spective merits  of  three  several  remedial  measures  :  (1)  a 
regulated  amalgamation  of  the  existing  companies ;  (2) 
the  establishment  of  entire  free-trade  in  public  telegraphy  ; 
(3)  the  transfer  of  the  service  to  the  post-office.  It  tended 
towards  a  preference  of  the  last,  but  agreed  to  recom- 
mend the  appointment  of  a  royal  commission  of  inquiry 
prior  to  legislation.  In  the  result  the  needful  preliminary 
inquiries,  and  also  the  preparation  of  the  Bills  for  parlia- 
ment to  which  those  inquiries  led,  came  to  be  made  by  the 
direct  authority  of  the  postmaster-general,  and  were  mainljr 
entrusted  to  Mr  Frank  Ives  Scudamore,  second  secretary 
of  the  post-office. 

The  Electric  Telegraph  Act  of  1868  (31  and  32  Vicu, 
c'llO)  authorized  the  postmaster-general,  with  consent  ol 
the  treasury,  to  purchase  fot  the  purposes  of  the  Act  iha 
whole,  or  such  parts  as  he  should  thiiik  fit,  of  any  existui,^ 
telegraphic  company,  "  provided  always  that  no  such  pnx 
chase  be  made  .  .  .  until  the  proposed  agreement,  and  a 
treasury  minute  thereupon,  shall  have  lain  for  one  montu 
upon  the  table  of  both  Houses  of  Parliament  without  di* 
approval."     The  Bill,  in.  its  originaLform  gave  to  the 


TBLEGEAPHS.] 


POST-0  1^'FI  CE 


575 


post-office  the  exclusive  right  of  public  telegraphy.  But 
the  conamittee  of  the  House  of  Commons  to  which  the  Bill 
was  referred  made  a  special  report  of  their  opinion  "  that 
it  is  not  desirable  that  the  transmission  of  messages  for  the 
'public  should  become  a  legal  monopoly  in  the  post-oiSce." 
They  also  recommended  that  it  should  be  left  to  the  dis- 
cretion of  the  postmaster-general,  with  the  consent  of  the 
treasury,  to  make  special  agreements  for  the  transmission  of 
certain  classes  of  messages  a.t  reduced  rates ;  that  security 
should  be  taken  for  ensuring  the  secrecy  of  messages,  by 
making  its  violation  punishable  as  a  misdemeanour ;  and, 
finally,  that  submarine  cables  acquired  by  the  postmaster- 
general  should  at  first  bo  leased  to  companies,  although 
ultimately  it  might  become  expedient  that  the  post-office 
should  work  them.i  The  Act  of  1869  (32  and  33  Vict. 
c.  73),  entitled  "An  Act  to  alter  and  amend  the  Telegraph 
Act,  1869,"  gives  to  the  post-office  the  exclusive  privilege 
of  transmission, — withheld  in  the  previous  Act, — empowers 
the  purchase  of  telegraphic  undertakings  other  than  those 
included  in  that  Act,  and  enables  certain  companies  to 
require  the  postmaster-general  to  make  such  purchase. 
It  also  directs  the  raising  by  the  treasury  of  a  sum  of 
£7,000,000  for  the  purposes  of  the  Acts.  The  Act  33 
and  3i  Vict.  c.  88  (1870)  extended  the  post-office  tele- 
graphic system  to  the  Channel  Islands  and  to  the  Isle  of 
Man  ;  and  that  of  the  34  and  35  Vict.  c.  75  (1871)  author- 
ized the  raising  of  an  additional  million.  These  sums 
collectively  proved  to  be  quite  insufficient,  and  eventually 
the  capital  sum  so  raised  exceeded  £10,000,000.  This 
large  excess  led  to  very  blamable  irregularities,  during  two 
or  three  years,  in  the  post-office  accounts  by  the  temporary 
ftpplication  of  savings  banks'  balances,  and  /the  like,  to 
telegraph  expenditure, — irregularities  which  attracted  the 
express  censure  both  of  the  treasury  and  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  Probably  no  more  arduous  task  was  ever 
thrown  upon  a  public  department  than  that  imposed  on 
the  post-office  by  this  transfer  of  1868-70.  The  reforms 
■which  it  was  to  bring  about  were  eagerly,  and  impatiently 
demanded  by  the  public.  The  utmost  ingenuity  that 
some  of  the  old  companies  could  exert,  employ,  or  in- 
directly incite  was  used  at  first  to  prevent  or  impede  the 
transfer  and  then  to  make  it  as  difficult  and  as  costly  as 
possible.^ 

This  great  operation  had  to  be  effijcted  Tvithout  for 
one  hour  interrupting  the  public  service.  Thereupon  the 
department  had  immediately  to  reduce  and  to  simplify  the 
charges  of  transmission  throughout  the  kingdom.  It  had 
to  extend  the  hours  of  business  at  all  the  offices.  It  had 
to  extend  the  wires  from  railway  stations  lying  outside  of 
town  populations  to  post-offices  in  the  centre  of  those 
populations  and  throughout  their  suburbs.  It  had  also 
to  extend  the  wires  from  towns  into  rural  districts  thereto- 
fore wholly  devoid  of  telegraphic  commimication.  It  had 
to  effect  a  complete  severance  of  commercial  and  domestic 
telegraphy  from  that  of  mero  railway  traffic ;  and  in 
order  to  this  severance  it  had  to  provide  the  railways  with 
some  6000  miles  of  wires  in  substitution  of  those  of  which 
theretpfore  they  had  been  joint  users.  It  had,  further, 
to  provide  at  low  charges,  by  all  sorts  of  agencies,  an 
effective  "free  trade"  (so  to  speak)  in  the  collection  of 
news  for  the  newspaper  press,  of  which  collection  hitherto 
^he  old  telegraph  companies  had  possessed  a  virtual  mono-; 
poly.     It   had   to  facilitate   the   transmission  of   money 

Report  of  Commons'  Committee  on  Electric  Telegraph  DiH  (Session 
Papers  of  1868,  No.  435). 

"  Two  instances  o\it  of  more  than  twenty  may  suffice.  The  North- 
Eastera  Railway  Company  claimed  in  compensation  for  its  telegraphic 
department  £540,292,  besides  a  very  largo  sum  for  interest;  it  was 
awarded,  in  all,  £168,696.  The  metropolitan  railway  companies 
claimed,  in  .all,  £433,000,  and  were  awarded  £51,807  {Twcnty-Jiflh 
Report  of  Postmastcr-Ociural.  1879,  p.  211. 


orders  by  telegram.^  Finally,  it  had  to  amalgamate  into 
one  staff  bodies  of  men  who  had  formerly  worked  aa' 
rivals,  upon  opposite  plans  and  with  different  instruments,' 
and  to  combine  the  amalgamated  telegraph  staff  with  that 
of  the  postal  service. 

When  under  examination  by  tte  Commons'  committee 
of  1868  Mr  Scudamore  had  very  modestly  disclaimed* 
the  honour  of  originating  anj-thing  with  respect  to  the 
proposed  transfer.  Every  part  of  the  scheme  had,  ha 
said,  been  borrowed  from  somebody  else,  and  tried  sue-! 
cessftdly  elsewhere  :  the  amalgamation  of  the  telegraphic 
and  'postal  administration  in  Victoria,  New  South  Wales,' 
Belgium,  Switzerland,  and  to  a  certain  extent  in  France ; 
the  institution  of  places  of  deposit  for  messages,  in  addi^. 
tion  to  the  offices  of  transmission,  in  Belgium,  as  well  as 
the  gratuitous  grant  of  postal  facilities  for  telegraphic 
messages ;  telegraphic  stamps  in  Belgium  and  France ;  a 
telegraphic  money-order  office  in  Switzerland  and  Prussia.' 
But  it  is  quite  certain  that  Mr  Scudamore,  had  he  been 
put  under  examination  at  a  later  date,  could  have  pointed 
to  no  precedent  for  labours  like  those  imposed  upon  him 
and  his  able  assistants  by  the  Telegraph  Acts  of  1868-69. 

So  zealously  was  the  work  of  improvement  pursued  that 
within  little  more  than  six  years  of  the  transfer  (viz.,  in 
1876)  the  aggregate  extent  of  road  wires  in  the  United 
Kingdom  was  already  63,000  miles,  that  of  railway  wires 
45,000, — in  all  108,000  miles.  The  number  of  instruments 
in  the  telegraphic  offices  was  12,000.  At  that  date  the 
superintending  and  managing  staffs  of  the  post-office  com- 
prised 590  persons,  the  staff  of  the  old  companies  with  the 
relatively  insignificant  traffic  of  1867 — less  than  6,000,000 
messages  as  compared  with  20,000,000 — having  been  534 
personsi*  For  supervision  exclusively  the  ntmiber  of 
officers  was  88  against  86,  and  the  relative  cost  £16,900 
to  the  post-office  as  against  £15,000  to  the  comisanies.' 
At  this  date  there  were  still  no  less  than  1720  miles  of 
the  road  wires  carried  over  houses  and  across  streets.  In 
1882  more  than  1300  miles  of  these  had  been  gradually 
removed  and  underground  wires  substituted. 

The  following  table  (XV.)  shows  the  gross  and  nett 
revenue  derived  by  the  post-office  from  the  telegraph  service 
since  the  date  of  the  actual  transfer  (Jan.  and  Feb.  1870).'^. 


Tear  ended  31st  March. 


1870  (two  months) 

1871 

1873 

1875 

1877 

1879 

1881. 

1882 

1883 

1884 


Total  Telegraph 
Receipts  (pay- 
ments to  Cable 
Cumpanies  and 
for  Porterage 
dtductod). 


£100,760 
697,931» 
989,921 
1,137,079 
1,313,107 
1,340,892 
1,610,907 
1,630,443 
1,740,063 
1,760,899 


Working  Ex- 
penses charged 
to  Telegraph 
Vot«.» 


£62,273 
394,477 
874,946 
1,077,347 
1,123,790 
1,089,392 
1,242,092 
1,365,633 
1,504,204 
1,709,506 


Kett  Revenue 

(iii-espectivc 

of  interest  on, 

CapitftI 

Account). 


£38,487 
803,457 
114,975 

59,732 
189,317 
257,500 
368,815 
264,810 
235,859 

51,393 


'  Euumeratcd(Scudamore,  5iy)/)/«mcii(ary  i?i-/)iir/, p.  142)  asamonga 
the  objects  aimed  at  by  the  post-oflico  in  accepting  the  transfer. 

*  Minutes  of  Evidence  taken  by  Commons'  Committee  on  propoiti 
Transfer,  kc,  passim.  • 

'  Report  of  the  Select  Committee  on.  Telegraphs,  1876  (Common^ 
Session  Papers,  No.  357),  p.  iii.  sq.  ' 

'  Lord  John  Manners  to  tho  treasury  ;  aco  Tapers  relating  to  Post 
Office  Telegraphs,  1876  (Session  Papers,  No.  34),  p.  2.    ' 
'  '   Thirtieth  Report  of  Postmaster-General,  1884,  p.  58. 

'  This  return  is  taken  from  the  Reports  of  tho  postmaster-gener.il, 
and  is  drawn  up  nccortling  to  tho  nppropri.ition  account  of  each  financial 
year.  There  arc  certain  additional  expenses  (for  huildinp",  stationery, 
manufacture  of  stamps,  and  rates)  on  account  of  the  telegraph  service 
which  that  account  <lnes  not  ificluHc.  Tliov  raise  the  total  cost  of  th« 
telesrraph  scrvic«  for  1881  to  £1.308,454.  for  1882  to  £1,440,728. 

'  Mr  Scudamore's  original  estimate  of  yearly  revonn*  was  put  at 
£^Q3,0m(,Supplemenlarij  Report  to  PoslmasUr-Oeneral,  1868,  p.  147). 


576 


POST-OFFICE 


[telegbaphs. 


f 


In  the  year  1882  a  large  increase  in  tlie  working  expenses 
became  necessary  for  the  further  improvement  and  exten- 
sion of  the  service,  and  for  a  very  just  increase  in  the  re- 
muneration of  the  telegraphists.  In  the  report  of  that 
year  the  postmaster-general  writes,  as  follows: — "The 
annual  interest  on  the  capital  sum  of  £10,880,571,  raised 
by  the  Government  for  the  purchase  of  the  telegraphs,  has 
not  previously  been  included  in  the  postmaster-general's 
accounts,  because  the  amount  is  not  provided  for  out  of 
post-office  votes  ;  but  in  estimating  the  financial  position 
ft  ought  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  chancellor  of  the 
exchequer  has  to  meet  a  charge  of  £326,417  for  this  service 
out  of  the  consolidated  fund.''^ 

The  reduction  of  the  unit ,  of  charge  from  a  shilling 
to  sixpence  is  a  reform  yet  to  come,  but  it  is  a  reform 
expressly  promised  {Thirtieth  Report,  1884,  p.  5).  It 
was  originally  proposed,  in  the  Edinburgh  chamber  of 
commerce,  at  the  outset  of  the  public  movement  which 
led  to  the  transfer  of  1870.  It  has  been  repeatedly  urged 
upon  successive  postmasters-general  by  the  council  of  the 
London  Society  of  Arts.  On  one  of  those  occasions  it 
was  admitted  by  the  postmaster-general  that  even  at  a 
sixpenny  rate  the  telegraphs  would  eventually  more  than 
pay  all  expenses,  including  the  current  rate  of  interest 
upon  the  capital  expended.^  Two  years  later  the  urgent 
necessity  of  this  reform  was  expressly  stated  by  the  same 
high  authority  in  answer  to  a  question  put  to  him  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  But  he  calculated  that  to  effect  it 
would  involve  a  loss  to  the  revenue  for  the  first  three 
jyears,  whicli  would  probably  amount  to  nearly  £420,000 
in  the  aggregate. 

The  thief  dates  in  the  history  of  the  electric-telegraph  service 
inay  be  stated  briefly  thus.  The  first  public  line  to  work  the 
patent  of  Wheatstone  and  .Cooke  was  laid  from  Paddington  to 
Slough  on  the  Great  Western  line'  in  1843.  The  charge  for  a 
message  up  to  fifty  words  was  Is.  Before  the  end  of  the  year  1845 
Knes  exceeding  in  the  aggregate  500  miles  were  at  work  in  Eng- 
land on  the  same  patent.  In  the  following  year  the  Electric  Tele- 
graph Company  was  established  mth  a  tariff  of  Is.  for  20  words 
within  a  radius  of  60  miles.  Is.  6d.  within  100  miles,  5s.  if 
exceeding  100  miles.  Remittance  messages  or  telegraphic  money- 
'orders  were  established  in  1850.  In  October  of  that  year  the 
first  oceanic  telegraph  was  worked  for  the  Submarine  Telegraph 
Company.^  In  June  1854  a  writer  in  the  Quarterly  Review  *  put  the 
question  :  "  Is  not  telegraphic  communication  as  much  a  function 
of  Government  as  the  conveyance  of  letters?"  In  January  1870 
'the  telegraphs  became,  in  pursuance  of  .the  Acts  of  1868  and  1869, 
'practically  a  branch  of  the  post-office.  In  1881  telephone  exchanges 
jweie  established,  both  by  the  post-office  and  by  private  companies, 
,under  its  licence,  for  terms  of  years,  upon  payment  of  a  royalty. 
iln  1884  (August  and  September)  definitive  arrangements  were 
'made  .between  the  post-office  and  the  telephonic  companies,  thus 
terminating  a  long  controversy.,  and  removing  many  mercantile 
(heart-burnings.  _ 

When  the  telegraphs  were  taken  over  by  the  Government  tele- 
jphonic  communication  had  not  yet  come  into  practical  use.  But 
the  principle  and  base  of  both  methods  are  the  same  ;  and  the  Acts 
iWere  framed  to  give  the  state  a  right  to  profit  by  improvements. 
In  the  course  of  the  year  1880  several  telephone  companies  estab- 
lished telephone  exchanges  in  various  parts  of  the  kingdom. 
Means  were  immediately  used  by  the'  postmaster-general  to  vindi- 
cate the  law.  On  the  20th  December  of  that  year  the  question 
jtvas  Brought  to  an  issue  in  the  Exchequer  Division  of  the.  High 
Court  of  Justice.  It  was  contended  by  the  companies  that  "the 
telephone  differed  essentially  from  the  telegraph, — the  one  trans- 
mitting electric  signals,  the  other  carrying  the  human  voice  by 
Hieans  altogether  unknown  when  the  post-office  monopoly  was 
granted."  In  the  course  of  his  judgment  Mr  Justice  Stephen 
otserved  thai,  "if  the  telephone  really  transmitted  the  human 
yoice;  then  communication  by  it  could  :iot  be  more  rapid  than  the 
Velocity  o,i  sound,  whereas  in  fact  it  was  instantaneous.     In  both 


y:  Twenty-eighth  Report  of  Postmaster-General,  1882, <p.  10. 

'Journal  of  the  Society  of  Arts,  1880,  vol.  ixviii.  p.  739. 
^.'^^  preliminary  experiments  of  Wheatstone  and  Cooke  had  been 
•UCMSsfully  made,  on  the  North-Westevn  line,  between  Euston  station 
|ii»d  Camden  Town  station,  „iit  at  that  date  the  North-Western  Coinpany 
Beclined  to  give  facilities  for  working  out  the  new  enterprise. 

■*  Vol.  xcv.  p.  151. 


the  communication  is  by  electric  signals."  The  Exchequer  decision 
of  December  1880  establishes  once  for  all,  not  only  that  the  tele-' 
phone  companies  are  quite  outside  of  "the  terms  of  the  exceptions 
in  section  5  of  the  Act  of  1869,"  but  also  that  "the  Government 
monopoly  is  not  limited  to  the  property  it  acquired.  It  extends 
to  all  improvements  in  telegraphic  communication."'  <The  post- 
master-general used  his  victory  with  generous  moderation.  As  the 
companies,  he  wrote,  "were  apparently  under  the  belief  that  they 
had  infringed  no  law,  I  held  myself  ready'  to  meet  them  witlil 
liberal  terms.  The  system  of  telephonic  intercommunication  is 
therefore  now  being  extended  partly  through  the  agencies  of  com-j 
panics  and  partly  by  the  post-office." «  In  the  next  annual  report 
(1882)  he  added:  "  Licences  were  granted  to  the  United  Telephone 
Company,'  as  representing  the  companies  defendants  to  the  suit,' 
and  to  other  private  agencies  to  carry  on  the  business  of  a  tele- 
phone exchange  in  London  and  in  various  provincial  towns,  the 
department  at  the  same  time  itself  establishing  exchanges  in  other 
places.  The  principle  which  underlay  this  arrangement  was  that 
only  one  telephone  system  should  be  established  in  any  one  to-\vn.' 
Ultimately  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  undesirable  .  .  '. 
to  create  a  monopoly  in  the  matter  of  telephonic  communication  ;' 
and  in  future  applications  will  be  favourably  entertained  froni' 
responsible  persons  for  licences  to  establish  exchanges  under  conj 
ditions  which  may  be  regarded  as  giving  adequate  protection  to 
the  public  and  to  the  department."  ^ 

According  to  the  Sitiiation  des  Riscaxix  TiUphoniques  for  1883,' 
published  by  the  International  Telephonic  Company  at  Paris,  the 
contract  between  the  British  post-office  and  the  London  and  Globe 
Telephone  and  Maintenance  Company  is  for  a  term. of  twenty- 
nine  years.  The  licence  granted  to  the  Telephone  Company  of 
Ireland  provides  that  no  exchange  to  be  established  thereunder  by 
that  company  shall  be  within  less  than  4  miles  of  any  post-office 
exchange.  But,  liberal  as  they  were,  the  concessions  mside  by  Mr 
Fawcett  in  1883  failed  to  satisfy  the  large  and  constantly-increasing 
claims  of  the  telephonic  interest  They  claimed  (1)  entire  practice 
freedom  of  control  for  their  respective  enterprises,  (2)  the  reduc- 
tion of  the  subsisting  state  royalty  by  one-half,  (3)  the  extension' 
of  the  commercial  telephonic  radius  to  15  miles.-  As  an  alter-' 
native,  they  offered  to  continue  the  subsisting  royalty  if  every 
sort  of  restriction  and  control  were  removed.  Mr  Fawcett  firmly 
maintained  the  right  of  Her  Majesty's  post-office  to  continue  the 
existing  royalty,  to  estabhsh  at  its  discretion  its  own  telephone 
exchanges  throughout  the  realm,  and  to  grant  new  licences  irre- 
spective of  the  old  ones  ;  he  consented  to  abolish  all  limitations 
of  radius  or  area,  to  subject  trunk  wires  and  exchange  wires  to 
like  conditions,  to  withdraw  the  claim  heretofore  made  by  the 
department  for  an  unlimited  supply  of  the  patented  instruments 
used  by  the  companies,  and  to  permit  the  establishment  by  them 
of  call -offices  for  local  messages.  :  But  no  company  was  to  be 
licensed  to  receive  and  deliver  written  messages  at  any  point.  By 
this  restriction  telegraphic  and  telephonic  messages  were  practically 
divaricated  in  service,  although  identical  in  law.  • 

The  subjoined  table  (XVI.)  shows  the  total  number'  of  telegraphic  Tel«^, 
messages  forwarded  in  England  and  Wales,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  grapji 
severally,  at  different  years,  since  the  transfer.  statistic 


Tear. 

England  and  Wales. 

Scotland. 

Ireland. 

T^Total  of 
United 
Kingdom.'^ 

Provinces. 

London. 

Total. 

1870-71 

1871-72 

1876-77 

1881-8210 

1882-83 

1883-84 

5,299,882 
6,594,590 
11,232,704 
14,204,479 
14,654,015 
14,920,413 

2,863,821 
3,612,772 
6,561,930 
12,071,034 
12,374,707 
12,686,433 

8,ie?,703 
10,207,362 
17,794,634 
26,275,513 
26,928,722 
27,606,846 

1,080,189 
1,388,434 
2,402,347 
3,207,994 
3,244,202 
3,299,428 

606,285 
878,000 
1,529,162 
1,862,354 
1,919,102 
1,936,846 

9,850,177 
12,473,796 
21,726,143 
31,345,861 
32,092,028 
82,843,120 

The  number  of  telegrams  sent  in  proportion  to  population  is  now 
much  greater  in'  England  than  it  is  in  the  countries  which  were 
cited  in  the  evidence  of  1868  as  in  that  particular  outstripping 
others.  The  old  companies,  "  by  maintaining  high  charges  as  long. 
as  they  could,  by  reducing  those  charges  .  .  .  only  under  pressure, 
by  the  confinement  of  their  operations  to  important  towns,  and  by 
planting  their  offices  mainly  in  the  business-centres  of  those  to\vn3, 
had  brought  speculative  men,  and  speculative  men  only,  to  a  free 


°  See  Law  Journal  Reports  of  January  1881. 

'  Twenty-seventh  Report  of  Postmaster  General,  p.  5. 
^7  XJpon  an  average  this  company  paid  to  the  post-office,  xmder  the 
arrangement  so  initiated,  a  sum  of  £15,150  a  year.  Its  aggregate 
payments  up  to  31st  December  1883  were  only  £35,500  (Postal 
Oasette,  1884,  p.  490).  In  other  countries  the  telephonic  companies 
pay  much  more  for  their  privilege.  In  Italy,  for  instance,  there  are 
fixed  annual  payments  to  the  state  over  and  above  the  royalty.of  1ft 
per  cent. ,  as  in  Britain. 

«  Tweedy-eighth  RepoH,  1882,  pp.- 5,  6. 

'  Compiled  from  Reports  of  postmaster-general. 
"  Including  certain  press  messages,  which  previous  to  1878i79jfer* 
not  included  in  the  returns. 


ADMINISTRATION,  ETC.J 


F  O  «  1  -  O  J?^  i'  i  C  £ 


mi 


iise  of  the  telegraph."'  The  development  of  tho  service  will  be 
opparent  when  it  is  stated  that  at  the  date  of  transfer  to  the  state 
(1870)  the  number  of  telegraph  offices  did  not  exceed  3700.  The 
number  of  messages  in  a  year  was  8,606,000.  In  1884  they  were 
respectively  5873  and  (as  above)  32,8-13,120.  The  yearly  increment 
has  lately  averaged  nearly  700,000.  More  striking  still  is  the  con- 
Irast  of  cost.  In  1851  twenty  words  sent  from  London  to  Edin- 
burgh cost  lOs. ;  as  late  as  1862  they  cost  4s.;  since  1880  the  cost 
has  been  reduced  to  Is. ;  in  August  of  the  present  year  (1885)  it  will 
be  reduced  to  6d.  Among  the  latest  minor  improvements  of  detail 
in  the  telegraph  service  is  that  which  was  effected  in  November  1882 
by  the  abolition  of  the  distinctive  telegiaph  stamp,  and  the  adoption 
of  ordinary  postage  stamps  for  the  payment  of  messages.  Tele- 
(^ms  thus  posted  are  conveyed,  without  extra  charge,  at  the  next 
collection  of  letters  to  the  nearest  telegraph  office,  whence  they  are 
transmitted  by  the  wires  at  the  earliest  possible  moment.^ 

During  1883  and  1834  great  improvements  were  made  m  the 
telegraphic  service  of  .Scotland  and  also  in  the  communication 
between  Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  An  additional  cable  was 
established  between  Fishguard  and  Blackwater.  Four  new  land- 
lines  were  laid  in  connexion  therewith,  namely,  from  Loudon  to 
Fishguard,  and  from  Blackwater  to  Dublin,  Cork,  and  Limerick. 
There  are  now  twenty-four  wires  available  for  use  between  Britain 
and  Ireland  contained  in  six  cables.  A  new  cable  dep6t  has  been 
erected  at  Woolwich,  and  a  cable-ship  constructed  (1883)  expressly 
for  post-office  service.  But  the  marvellous  growth  of  telegraphy 
and  telephony  is  best  seen  when  we  compare  their  statistics  in 
individual  towns.  The  daily  average  of  messages  in  London,  for 
example,  was  450  in  1870  and  nearly  6O0O  in  1883  ;  in  Derby  218 
in  1870  and  898  in  1883.-  The  staff  at  Derby  in  the  former  year  was 
fourteen,  in  the  latter  y<ar  forty-six,  and  the  instruments  employed 
in  the  same  years  were  respectively  seven  and  twenty-seven. 

Government,  Organization,  Staff,  and  Eegulations.'^ 

iiBi*-  Originally  and  essentially  the  post-office  is  part  of  the 
y*  domain  of  the  crown  of  England.  Practically  its  adminis- 
'tration  is  controlled  and  regulated  by  statute.  There  were 
in  1883  no  less  than  twenty-one  several  Acts  of  Parliament, 
or- parts  of  Acts,_which  affected  the  postal  administration, 
although  at  the  commencement  of  the  reign  of  Victoria 
the  existing  Post -Office  Acts  and  parts  of  Acts  (some- 
what more  numerous  still)  were  consolidated  into  a  single 
statute, — a  measure  which  had  been  previously  resolved 
upon  and  in  part  prepared  under  the  administration  of  the 
duke  of  Wellington.*  The  respoiisibilities  of  common 
carriers  do  not  extend  to  the  postmaster-general  or  to  any 
of  his  deputies.  But  a  sub-postmaster  is  answerable  in  the 
ordinary  courts  of  law  for  individual  acts  of  negligence. 
d  all  subordinates  of  the  postal  service  are,  of  course. 


An 


'  Scudamore,  Report  on  the  Reorganization,  <tc.,  p.  17. 
'  Twenty-eighth  Report  of  Postmaster-Oeneral,  1882,  p.  5. 

•  Tho  details  are  given  at  length  in  the  Law  Journal  Reports  for 
1884.  A  good  summary  may  be  found  in  Th^  Postal  and  Telegraphic 
Oazetle,  1884,  pp.  660-662. 

*  Hansard,  Parliamentary  Debates,  series  iii.,  vol.  i.  pp.  706,  779. 
We  cannot  here  enumerate  the  subsisting  Acts  otherwise  than  in  briefest 
form.  (1)  The  general  administration  and  working  of  the  department, 
the  rates  of  postage,  and  the  appropriation  of  the  revenue  thence  accni- 
tog  are  governed  by— 7  William  IV.  and  1  Vict.  c.  33  (July  1837) ; 
3  and  4  Vict.  c.  96  ;  10  and  11  Vict.  c.  85  (1847)  ;  33  and  34  Vict. 
«.  79  (1870),  and  ibid.  c.  98,  §§  9-12 ;  34  and  35  Vict.  c.  30  (1871) ; 
38  and  39  Vict.  c.  22  'Juno  1875)  ;  44  and  45  Vict.  c.  19  (1881), 
land  ibid.  c.  12,  §  47.  (The  Act  33  and  34  Vict.,  amongst  other 
(valuable  improvements,  extends  the  book-parcel  post,  and  contains  an 
Jcipress  cluuse  empowering  tho  treasury. to  regulate  by  warrant  postage 
Tates  from  time  to  time.  Yet  there  is  a  whole  series  of  subsequent 
(Acta  reg\ilating  such  rates.  The  Act  88  and  39  Vict,  arose  out  of  the 
provisions  of  the  international  postal  treaty  at  Bern  of  9th  October 
1874  (see  below,  p.  584),  and  empowers  tho  treasury  to  regulate  foreign 
^nd  international  rates  of  postage  in  accordance  with  these  provisions.) 
<2)  The  money-order  branchjs  regulated  by  3  and  4  Vict.  c.  96,  §  38 
(1840),  and  by  43  and  44  Vict.  c.  83.  (3)  The  savings  banks  branch 
^8  regulated  by  22  and  23  Vict.  c.   53  (1859) ;  24  and  25  Vict.  c. 

4  (1861) ;  and  37  and  38  Vict.  c.  73  (1874).  (4)  Tlio  annuities  and 
Ifo  insurance  branch  is  governed  by  27  and  28  Vict.  c.  43  (1864); 
;hi8  statute  applies  also  to  savings  banks  'managed  by  trustees  (see 
'avinqs  Banks).  (5)  Tho  telegraphs  branch  is  regulated  by  31  and 
1  Vict  c.  110  (1867-68) ;  32  and  33  Vict.  c.  73  (1868-69);  34  and 
S6  Vict.  c.  75  (1871)  ;  and  41  and  42  Vict.  c.  76  (1878).  (6)  Tho 
Acquisition  of  lands  for  post-oflico  purposes  is  facilitated  by  44  and 
■46  Vict.  c.  20  (1881).  Finally,  (7)  the  oarcel-post  branch  is  provided 
Ibr  by  46  and  <7  Vicf.  c.  58  (1883) 


responsible  to  the  postmaster-general,  who  may,  and  upon 
due  cause  will,  besides  other  and  official  punishment,  re- 
quire them  to  make  good  to  the  sufferers  losses  which  have 
been  inflic  ?,d  by  proven  breach  of  duty.* 

The  staff  of  the  post-office  department  was  composed  as  follpwa 
on  31st  March  1884  (Table  XVII.)  :— 


1.  Chief  officers,  secretariat,  and  surveyors 

2.  Hcad-postinastere .,. . 

3.  Sub-p'ostniasters  and  letter-receivers  .. .. 

4.  Clerks  and  superintending  ofllcers 

5.  Supervisors,  countermen,  sorters,  tele- 

graphists, &c.  — 

6.  Postmen,  porters,  &c .r."; ,. 

7.  Assistants  and  servants  of  various  grades 

(unestablished) 

8.  Colonial  postmasters  and  foreign  agents 


Grandtotal 69,384 


Males. 


63 

769 

12,038 

2,293 

10,074 

15,269 
28,829 


1 

130 

2,790 

616 

.  2,115 

8 
16,139 

1 


21,800 


Total. 


64 

_  ,  fll9 

14,828 

2,909 

.12,1S9 

15,277 
44,963 


The  general  post-office,  London,  is  organized  in  seven  principal, 
departments,  viz.,  (1)  secretary  s,  (2)  solicitor's,  (3)  receiver-  and 
accountant-general's,  (4)  money  order,  (5)  savings  b&nks,  (6)  tele-| 
graphs,  (7)  circulation.  The  secretary's  office  has  a  general  cotitrol 
over  all  the  others. 

At  the  beginning  of  1858  the  total  number  of  post-offices  in 
the  United  Kingdom  was  11,101  ;  at  the  beginning  of  1884  it 
was  15, 9.^11.  Of  the  former  number  810  were  head  post-offices,  of 
the  latter  mnnber  921.  In  1858  the  number  of  street  and  road 
receiving-boxes  was  703,  in  1884  15,749. 

The  quarterly  Post-Office  Guide  is  now  so  widely  known  tnat  we  Letter 
need  say  very  little  about  rates  of  postage.  Whilst  a  letter  not  rates,  &o 
exceeding  1  oz.  passes  for  3d.,  and  one  not  exceeding  2  oz.  for  IJd., 
one  not  exceeding  12  oz.  is  charged  4d.,  but  for  ever)'  weight  exceed- 
ing 12  oz.  a  penny  for  each  ounce,  beginning  with  the  first,  is 
charged.  There  is  no  express  limit  to  weight,  but  no  letter,  unless 
it  be  from  or  to  a  Government  office,  must  exceed  the  dimensions 
of  18x9x6  inches.  The  uniform  rate  for  a  registered  newspaper 
is  Jd.,  unregistered  newspapers  pay  tho  book-rate  of  Jd.  for  every 
2  oz.  In  weight  no  book-packet  must  exceed  6  lb,  nor  must  it 
exceed  in  dimensions  those  prescribed  for  letters.  The  official 
post-card  is  impressed  with  a  ^d.  stamp  ;  cards  for  reply,  bearing- 
two  stamps,  may  be  transmitted  not  only  between  pkces  within 
the  United  Kingdom  but  between  such  places  and  many  foreign 
countries  (see  Posl-Offi.ce  Guide).  Petitions  and  addresses  to  Her 
Majesty  and  to  the  Houses  of  Parliament  are  exempt  from  charge 
up  to  a  weight  of  2  lb.  Parliamentary  proceedings  are  charged  at' 
the  book  rate,  but  are  unlimited  as  to  weight  or  size,  and  prepay- 
ment is  optional,  without  entailing  any  increased  rate  of  charge., 
The  rates  of  the  parcel  post  (1st  August  1883)  are— for  1  lb  or  part 
thereof,  3d.  ;  not  exceeding  3  lb,  6d.  ;  not  exceeding  5  lb,  9d.-  ;  not 
exceeding  7  lb.  Is.  The  limits  of  size  are  3  feet  6  inches  in  greatest 
length,  and  in  length  and  girth  combined  6  feet.  In  all'cases  par- 
cels must  be  prepaid  in  adhesive  stamps.  The  rule  as  to  registration 
is  held  to  be  inapplicable  to  postal  parcels  ;  but  in  January  1886  a 
useful  system  of  stamped  cerfificates  of  tho  postage  of  parcels  was 
introduced.  For  foreign  rates  of  postage  and  for  all  like  details 
we  necessarily  refer  to  the  Post-Office  Guide  above-mentioned. 

In  social  importance  no  branch  of  postal  administration  exceeds 
its  savings  banks  .system  and  tho  dependencies  attached  to  it.  At 
every  post-office  forms  can  bo  obtained  on  which  twelve  penny 
postage  stamps  can  be  fixed,  which  will  bo  received  as  a  postal 
savings  bank  deposit  for  a  shilling,  provided  a  due  declaration  be 
made  that  the  depositor  has  no  account  with  any  other  savings 
bank.  When  the  deposit  reaches  £1,  interest  at  tho  rate  of  6d.  a 
year  on  each  pound  is  given.  The  depositor  can  withdraw  his 
money  (which  may  accrue  to  tho  limit  of  i'30  in  any  ono  year) 
from  any  ono  of  the  7475  post-office  hanks.  At  any  such  office  a 
person  who  wishes  to  invest  £10  or  any  larger  sum  up  to  £100  in 
Governmont  stock  can  do  so  at  the  current  price  of  tho  day. 

In  conclusion  we  add  a  brief  retrospective  survey  of  tho  more  salient 
incidents,  in  chronological  order,  of  tho  British  post  office.  (1633) 
First  appointment  ot  a  postmaster -general  for  England;  (1691) 
partial  organization  of  rudimentary  English  post-oflico;  (1619) 
appointment  of  a  special  postmaster-general  for  "foreign  parts"; 
(1635)  reorganization  of  English  post-office  under  Thomas  Withcr- 
ings  ;  (1665)  settlement  of  post-oQico  revenue  on  James,  duke  of 
York,'  and  his  heirs-male  ;  (1680)  cstahlishuient  of  a  metropolitan 
penny  post  by  William  Dockwra  ;  (1711)  consolidation  of  Postal 
Acts  by  statute  9  Queen  Anne,  c.  x.  ;  (1720)  organization  of  cross- 
road and  rural  posts  under  Ralph  Allen  ;  (1763)  organization  of 
post-office  of  American  colonioa  under  Benjamin  Franklin  ;  (1784) 


;^°  Compare  tho  judgment  given  in  Lane  V.  Cotton,  in  Lori  Raymond's 
'Reports,  i.  646,  with  that  in  Whitfield  v.  Lord  Lo  Dcsponcer  (past« 
master-general,  1766-1781),  in  Cowper's  Reports,  754,  and  with  thai 
-in  Browning  v.  Goodcbild.  in  Wilson's  Reportt,  iii.  443. 

XIX.  -  73 


578 


P  0  S  T-0  F  F  I  C  E 


[BRITISH  COLONIES, 


establishment  of  improved  mall-coaches  and  of  well-organized  mail- 
routes,  undai  John  Palmer  of  Bath  ;  (1821)  first  conveyance  of 
mails  by  steam-packet ;  (1830)  first  mail-coach  by  railway  ;  (1834, 
August)  postage  stamp  invented,  at  Dundee  by  James  Chalmers  ; 
(1835)  establishment  of  the  overland  route  to  India,  mainly  by 
exertions  of  Lieutenant  Waghom  ;  (1S37)  Sir  R.  Hill's  postal 
reform  initiated ;  (1838)  estabUshmeut  of  postal  money-order  office  ; 
(1840,  January)  general  and  uniform  penny  post  (per  half  ounce) 
established ;  (1855,  March)  first  street  letter-box  put  up  in  London  ; 
(1855,  June)  book-post  organized  ;  (1856)  metropolitan  postal  dis- 
tricts established  and  Postal  Guide  issued  ;  (1861)  postal  savings 
banks  instituted ;  (1870)  transfer  of  telegraphs  to  the  state  ;  (1870) 
postal  cards  introduced ;  (1870)  improved  postal"  treaty  with 
Napoleon  III.  concluded  ;  (1871)  postal  unit  of  charge  reduced  to 
one  penny  per  ounce  ;  (1874)  International  Postal  Union  estab- 
lished at  Bern;  (1875)  further  consolidation -of  the  post -office 
statutes;  (1881,  January)  postal  orders  issued;  (1883,  August) 
parcel  post  established  ;  (1884,  October)  entrance  of  the  Australian 
colonies  into  the  Postal  TJnion. 

BiUiography.—3ohn  Hill,  Penny  Post,  or  a  Vindication  of  (he  Liberty  of  every 
E-nglishinan  in  carrying  Letters,  against  any  Bestraint  of  Farmers  of  such  Employ- 
ment, 1659;  "The  Case  of  the  Officers  of  His  Majesty's  Penny  Post,"  in  the 
tnnth  Report  of  the  Commissioners  an  the  Post-OJice  Department,  1698  ;  "  Post- 
Office,"  in  Beporls  on  the  Revenues  of  the  Crown,  1811  sq. ;  "Post-Office,"  in  Re- 
ports of  the  Commissioners  of  the  Revenue  Inquiry,  1826-30;  Reports  of  the  Com- 
missioners  ...  on  the  Management  of  the  Post-Office,  IS35-3S;  Rowland  Hill,  Post- 
Ojnce  Reform:  its  Importance  and  Practicability,  133"  (three  editions  in  1837; 
reprinted  in  the  Postal  Gazette,  1384)  ;  Reports  of  [Commons']  Select  Committee  on 
Postage,  1837-38 ;  Papers  isffued  by  the  Mercantile  Committt-e  on  Postage,  1839 ; 
Posl  Circular,  ed  by  Henry  Cole  ;  Correspondence  on  Post-Office  Reform,  ed.  by  R. 
Hill,  1843  ;  R.  Hill,  State  and  Prospects  of  Penny  Postage  ;  Reports  of  PoslmasUr- 
Ceneral,  1855-84  (annually);  Post-Office  Guide  (quarterly,  by  authority),  1856-65  ; 
Postal  Official  Circu/ar  (a revised  re-issue  of  an  earlier  publication  entitled  Daily 
Packet  List),  1858-85  ;  W.^Le-ivin,  Her  Majesty's  Mails:  an  Account  of  the  British 
Post-Office,  1864  ;  R.  Hill,  History  of  Penny  Postage  (appended  to  Q.  B-  Hill's 
LifeofSirR.  Hill),  1880;  P.  Chalmers,  The  Penny  Postage  Scheme  of  1SS7 :  was 
it  an  Invention  or  a  Copy?  1881,  and  The  Position  of  Sir  R.  nUl  viade  plain, 
1882  (with  many  other  tracts  by  the  same  author  during  1882-84);  Pearson 
Hill,  A  Reply  to  Mr  Chalmers:  Henry  Fawcett,  The  Post-Office  and  Aids  to 
Thrift,  1881. 

Bkitish  Colonies  and  Dependencies. 

Austraira  -Australia  and  New  Zealand. — In  1873  there  were  2668  post- 
and  New  offices  open;  38,930,852  letters  (including  South  Australian  and 
Zealand.  New  Zealand  packets)  and  22,018,483  newspapers  and  packets 
were  transmitted  ;  303,741  money  orders,  amounting  to  £754,847, 
were  issued  ;  there  were  185,202  depositors  in  the  post-office  savings 
banks,  whose  deposits  amounted  to  £2,081,288  ;  over  20,559  miles 
of  telegraph  lines  were  open  ;  2,100,272  messages  were  transmitted, 
from  which  an  income  of  £211,276  was  deriveti,  -while  the  expendi- 
ture (exclusive  of  South  Australia)  amounted  to  £186,681.  "Western 
Australia  is  omitted  from  these  figures  owing  to  the  inadequacy 
of  the  Government  returns.  These  figures,  compared  with  the 
population  of  1873,  show  that  over  18  letters  and  over  10  news- 
papers and  packets  per  head  were  transmitted  ;  that  money  orders 
were  issued  to  1  in  about  every  7  persons,  at  an  average  value 
of  nearly  £2,  lOs.  per  order  ;  that  deposits  in  the  post-office  savings 
bank?  averaged  a  little  over  1  in  11  of  the  entire  population,  at  an 
average  value  of  £11,  4s.  per  deposit ;  that  of  telegi'aph  messages 
there  was  about  one  to  eacn  person. 

In  1883  there  were  4410  post-offices  open  ;  123,614,387  letters 
and  post-cards,  10,434,461  packets,  and  60,889,570  newspapers  (in- 
cluding South  Australian  packets)  were  transmitted  ;  the  revenue 
of  the  postal  department  amounted  to  £1,057,100,  and  the  expendi- 
ture to  £1,287,679  ;  783,701  money  orders  were  issued,  amounting 
to  £2,603,915  ;  there  were  254,510  depositors  in  the  post-office 
savings  hanks,  and  their  deposits  amounted  to  £4,537,706  ;  there 
were  over  57,174  miles  of  telegraph,  and  7,083,163  messages  were 
transmitted,  the  value  of  which  was  estimated  at  £476,683;  the 
expenditure  of  the  telegraph  departments  amounted  to  £345,590, 
■  but  it  must  be  explained  that  the  Victorian,  South  Australian, 

and  West  Australian  expenditures  were  included  in  those  of  the 
postal  departments.  These  figures,  compared  with  the  population 
of  1883,  show  that  there  were  transmitted  per  head  nearly  40  letters 
and  post-cards,  and  over  23  newspapers  and  packets ;  to  every  third 
person  a  money  order  was  issued,  at  an  average  value  of  about 
£3,  6s.  6d.  per  order;  the  number  of  deposits  in  the  post-office 
savings  banks  averaged  about  1  in  every  12  of  the  population,  and 
their  average  value  was  over  £17,  6s.  per  deposit ;  'the  telegraph 
messages  were  transmitted  at  the  rate  of  rather  more  than  two 
messages  to  each  person.  ,, 

Canada. — During  the  year  which  ended  on  30th  June  1884  the 
nnmber  of  letters  conveved  by  the  mails  throughout  the  Dominion 
of  Canada  was  66,100,000  as  against  62,800,000  in  the  correspond- 
ing year  1883  ;  that  of  post-cards  was  13,580,000  as  against 
12,940,000.  The  number  of  letters  registered  was  3,000,000  against 
2,650,000.  The  number  of  money  orders  issued  was  463,502,  their 
aggregate  value  being  £2,068,726.  Of  this  amount  £1,638,060  was 
for  inland  orders,  £430,666  for  foreign  orders.  The  number  of 
Canadian  post-offices  was  6837  against  6395  in  1883  ;  the  length 
of  postal  routes  open  was  47,131  miles,  showing  an  increase  over 
the  previous  year  of  248S  miles.     The  distance  traversed  thereon 


by  the  mails  in  1884  was  20,886,316  mUes.  Of  the  6837  post- 
offices  866  were  Eilso  money-order  olhces.  In  1884  international 
money  orders  were  extended  to  the  principal  couutiies  of  the  Postal 
Union  and  to  all  British  possessions  abroad.  In  1884  the  amount 
of  foreign  money  orders  paid  in  Canada  was  £252,600.  In  1884 
the  number  of  post-office  savings  banks  was  343,  the  number  of 
depositors'  accounts  66,682  (an  increase  of  5623  over  1883),  and 
total  amount  in  deposit  £2,650,000. 

India. — In  order  to  illustrate  the  growtli  of  the  post-office  in  Indi» 
India  we  give  the  salient  statistics  for  1873  and  1883.  In  British' 
India  and  the  native  states  the  total  number  of  post-offices  in  1883 
was  5310,  showing  an  increase  of  2304  since  1873.  In  1883  the' 
number  of  letters  of  all  descriptions  that  passed  through  the  post-' 
office  was  135,709,147,  in  1873  it  was  83,127,098.  '  Post-cards  were 
not  issued  untU  1880,  when  they  numbered  7,471,984,  which 
number  had  increased  to  29,844,347  in  1883.  In  the  last-quoted 
year  18,501,171  newspapers,  parcels,  and  packets  passed  through' 
the  post  and  10,030,216  in  1873.  In  1883  2,565,904  postal  money 
orders,  representing  a  value  of  £6,468,418j  were  issued.  Adding 
the  number  of  money  orders  to  the  total  of  letters,  newspapers,  &c.,' 
for  the  year  1883  we  obtain  an  aggregate  of  186,620,569,  equal  to 
0'73  per  head  of  popul^tioh.  Post-office  savings  banks  were  opened 
in  India  on  1st  April  1882  ;  during  the  first  year  the  deposits 
reached  a  total  of  £435,356,  or  including  interest  (£4902)  £440,258. 
Deposits  amounting  to  £160,578  were  withdrawn  during  the  year, 
leaving  a  balance  of  £279,680  on  31st  March  1883-  The  total 
length  of  Government  telegraph  lines  increased  from  46,386  miles 
in  1873  to  84,700  miles  in  1883.  The  expenditure  in  both  years 
nnder  consideration  exceeded  the  receipts:  whilst  in  1873  the 
figures  were  respectively  £704,193  and  £677,047,  in  1883  they  were 
£983,779  and  £971,639.  (E.  ED.) 

TJnited  States. 

The  early  history  ^  of  the  post-office  in  the  British  J"'' 
colonies  in  North  America"  has  been  briefly  referred  to 
above  (pp.  565,  566).  Benjamin  Franklin  was  removed 
by  the  home  department  from  his  office  of.  postmaster- 
general  in  America  in  1774.  On  26th  July  1775  the 
•  American  Congress  assumed  direction  of  the  post -offices, 
re-^ppointing  Franklin  to  his  former  post.  Shortly  after- 
■wards,  when  Franklin  was  sent  as  ambassador  to  France, 
his  son-in-law,  Richard  Bache,  was  made  postmaster- 
general  in  November  1775. 

In  1789  th'e  number  of  post-offices  was  75,  in  1800  903,  Grow 
in  1825  5677,  in  1875  35,734,  and  in  1884  50,017.  In 
1789  the  gross  revenues  of  the  postal  service  were  $30,000, 
in  1800  §280,804  In' 1860  the  gross  revenues  had  in- 
creased to  $8,518,067  and  in  1875  to  $26,671,218.  In' 
1884  they  amounted  to  $43,338,127-08.  In  1860  there 
was  a  deficit  in  the  postal  income  of  $10,652,542'59, 
occasioned  through  lavish  expenditure  and  then  existing 
abuses.  Annual  deficiencies  had  occurred  for  nine  years 
previous  to  1860,  and  continued  for  twenty -one  years 
thereafter.  In  1882  a  surplus  of  $1,394,388-92  wasshowp? 
and  in  1883  a  profit  of  $1,001,281-83.  The  percentage 
of  deficit  continued  steadily  to  decrease  after  1860,  and 
in  1882,  for  the  first  time  in  thirty-one  years,  the  postal 
service  ceased  to  be  a  burden  upon  the  treasury.  It  is  not 
to  be  doubted  that  adverse  natural  conditions  operated 
for  many  years  'to  prevent  or  to  postpone  this  favourable 
result,  among  them  the  vast  extent  of  territorj-  embraced 
'ndthin  the  confines  of  the  republic,  entailing  costly  service 
over  long  routes,  and  the  extraordinarily  rapi4  development 
of  the  western  States  and  Territories,  conditions  which 
militate  against  the  United  States  in  a  comparison  of  the' 
statistics  of  its  postal  service  during  that  period  with  those 
of  the  service  of  countries  having  more  limited  areas.' _ 

Until  1863  the  rates  of  postage  were  'based  uporf  the 
distances  pTer,.tyhich  the  mails  were  conveyed.  In  1846 
these  rate^TTerf^not  exceeding  300  miles,  three  cents- 
exceeding  300  miles,  ten-'cents.  In  1851  the  rates  were 
reduced  to  three  cents  for  distances  not  exceeding  3000 
miles  and  ten  cents  for  distances  exceeding  3000  milesl 
The  use  of  adhesive  postage  stamps  was  first  authorized 

'  For  early  statistics  (1790-1856)  of  the  United  States  post-officei 
see  Ency.  Brit.,  8th  ed.,  vol.  xviii.  pp.  419,  420. 


ONlTiD  STATES.] 


P  O  S  T-0  F  F  I  C  E 


579 


by  Act  of  Congress,  approved  3d  March  1847,  and  on  1st 
June  1856  prepayment  by  stamps  was  made  compulsory. 
In  1863  a  uniform  rate  of  postage  without  regard  to  dis- 
tance was  fixed  at  three  cents,  and  on  1st  October  1883, 
after  satisfactory  evidence  had  been  given  of  the  surplus 
income  from  the  operations  of  the  post-office  establisbment 
for  the  two  preceding  fiscal  years,  tlie  rate  was  further 
reduced  to  two  cents,  the  equivalent  of  the  British  penny 
postage.  It  will  be  seen  that  no  time  was  lost  in  gi^^ng 
to  the  public  the  benefit  of  the  change  for  the  better  in 
the  condition  of  the  postal  finances,  and  to  this  liberality 
is  undoubtedly  due  in  great  measure  the  deficit  of 
$5,204,484-12  for  the  year  1884,  a  deficiency  which,  how- 
ever, it  is  reasonable  to  expect,- will  decrease  from  year  to 
year  under  the  stimulus  given  to  correspondence  by  the 
cheapened  rate.  It  is  hardly  remarkable,  in  view  of  the 
great  area  of  the  United  States,  that  for  a  long  time  dis- 
tance should  have  formed  a  very  material  element  in  the 
calculations  for  levying  postal  tribute. 

The  franking  privilege,  which  had  grown  to  be  an  in- 
VDlerable  abuse,  was  finally  abolished  in  1873,  and  the 
post-office  now  carries  free  under  oflicial  "  penalty  "  labels 
or  envelopes  (i.e.,  envelopes  containing  a  notice  of  the 
legal  penalty  for  their  unauthorized  use)  nothing  but 
matter  which  is  of  a  strictly  oflicial  character,  with  the 
single  exception  of  newspapers  circulated  within  the  county 
Convey-  of  publication.  As  late  as  1860  the  mails  conveyed  nothing 
maUs"'  ^^^  written  and  printed  matter.  They  now  admit  nearly 
every  kno\vn  substance  which  does  not  exceed  four  pounds 
in  weight  (this  restriction  does  not  apply  to  single  books), 
and  which  from  its  nature  is  not  liable  to  injure  the  mails 
or  the  persons  of  postal  employes. 

The  railway  mail  service,  including  the  "fast  mail," 
the  character  of  which  is  from  the  necessity  of  the  case 
peculiar,  and  which,  in  its  methods  and  results,  has  reached 
a  perfection  attainable  only  in  a  country  of  great  extent, 
was  inaugurated  in  1864  after  a  successful  experiment 
upon  a  few  of  the  large  railroad  lines  with  important 
termini.  In  1865  one  thousand  and  forty  one  miles  of 
railway  post-ofSce  service  were  in  operation,  employing 
sixty-four  clerks.  The  service  was  reorganized  in  1874 
with  eight  territorial  divisions,  each  in  charge  of  a  superin- 
tendent subordinate,  to  a  general  superintendent  at  the 
seat  of  government.  This  sen'ice  was  one  of  the  earliest 
exponents  of  a  classified  civil  service  in  the  more  recent 
acceptation  of  that  term  in  the  United  States,  appointment 
of  railway  postal  clerks  having  always  been  made  for  a 
probationary  period,  permanent  appointment  conditioned 
upon  satisfactory  conduct  and  service,  and  removal  based 
upon  good  cause  only.  On  1st  July  1884  there  were 
about  four  thousand  clerks  in  the  railway  mail  service,  and 
the  length  of  the  routes  was  117,160  miles.  The  annual 
transportation  (aggregate  distance  over  which  the  mails 
were  conveyed)  was  142,541,392  miles.  At  the  same 
date  the  length  of  the  "star  service"  routes  (i.e.,  mail 
service  other  than  by  railway  or  steamboat)  was  226,779 
miles  and  the  annual  transportation  81,109,052  miles, 
.Xvhile  the  length  of  the  steamboat  routes  was  15,591  miles 
with  an  annual  transportation  of  3,882,288  miles,  which 
aoes  not  include  conveyance  of  mails  by  sea  to  foreign 
countries.' 

The  penny  post  existed  in  a  number  ofcities  of  the 
Union  in  1862,  the  carriers  remunerating  themselves  by 
tlie-collection  of  a  voluntary  fes  of  from  one  to  two  cents 
on  each  piece  of  mail  delivered,  A  uniform  free  delivery 
system  was  first  authorized  by  law  on  3d  March  18G3, 
and  was  established  on  the  succeeding  1st  of  July  in  forty- 
iiine  cities.  The  number  of  carriers  employed  the  first 
year  was  685.  On  1st  July  1884  there  were  3890  letter- 
carriers  in  one  hundred  and  fifty-nine."  free  delivery  cities." 


To  the  European  reader  this  number  will  doubtless  appear 
to  be  remarkably  small  in  a  country  whose  population, 
according  to  the  census  of  1880,  was  over  50,000,000, 
but  it  should  be  oKserved  that,  outside  of  the  larger  cities 
and  towns,  the  people  as  a  rule  reside  on  detached  farm,'* 
of  greater  or  less  size,  at  considerable  distances  from 
each  other,  and  not,  as  in  many  of  the  European  states?, 
congregated  in  small  tovms  or  villages,  separated  from 
their  farms ;  from  this  circumstance  it  happens  that  mra] 
factors  or  carriers  have  never  been,  and  could  not  well  be, 
employed  as  in  European  countries. 

The  registry  system,  in  which  great  improvements  haVa 
been  made  -within  the-  last  few  years,  did  not  attain  an^ 
degree  of  exceUence  until  after  1860;  and  the  money-order 
system  was  first  established  in  1864.  The  aggregate  num- 
ber of  money  orders,  domestic  and  foreign,  issued  during 
the  fiscal  year  1883-84  was  8,314,963,  of  the  value  of 
$129,810,038-51.  Postal  notes  for  small  sums,  payable  to 
bearer,  and  resembling  the  British  postal  orders  except  in 
that  they  are  not  drawn  for  fixed  amounts,  were  fixst 
issued  to  the  public  in  September  1883,  and  during  the 
first  ten  months  there  were  3,689,237  notes  sold  of  the 
aggregate  value  of  $7,411, 992-48.  Money  orders  are  ex- 
changed, in  pursuance  of  postal  conventions  for  the  pur- 
pose, with  most  of  the  important  countries  of  the  world 
which  have  money-order  systems  of  their  own. 

The  total  staff  of  the  post-office  in  1884  numbered  Lat» 
71,671,  of  whom  50,017  were  postmasters.  For  the  same  statisuefc 
year  the  total  number  of  letters  delivered  in  159  cities  was 
524,431,327.  The  number  of  post-cards  delivered  in  the 
same  cities  was.  166,652,429,  and  the  number  of  news- 
papers 231,645,185.  The  number  of  registered  letters 
and  parcels  sent  through  the  mails  was  11,246,545,' and 
the  total  ascertained  losses  numbered  616,  or  in  the  ratio 
of  1  to  21,795.  During  the  same  year  the  total  number 
of  pieces  of  mail  handled  or  distributed  en  route  on  the 
cars  by  railway  postal  clerks  was  4,519,661,900,  of  which 
number  2,795,447,000  were  letters, — a  total  increase  over 
the  previous  year  of  13^  per  cent.,  the  transactions  of  that 
year  having  themselves  exceeded  those  of  the  year  1882 
by  nearly  16  per  cent.  The  sales  of  stamps,  Ac,  for  the 
year  amounted  to  $40,745,853'66,  showing  that  almost  thel 
entire  revenues  of  the  service  are  derived  from  postages 
The  total  estimated  number  of  letters  sent  to  foreign 
countrie?  was  33,328,014,  of  post-cards  1,672,458,  ol 
packets  of  newspapers,  &.C.,  20,712,464,  fi,nd  of  packages 
of  samples  of  merchandise  297,048.  There  were°received 
from  foreign  countries  28,404,035  letters,  1,288,673  post^ 
cards,  21,747,784  packets  of  newspapers,  <t.c.,  and  519,561 
packets  of  samples  of  merchandise.  The  total  number  of 
articles  of  undelivered  mail  received  in  the  dead-lottei 
office  was  4,843,099,  of  which  number  4,752,483  were 
letters,  being  nearly  a  million  less  than  the  number  which 
reached  the  British  returned-letter  office.  Useful  printed 
matter  which  cannot  be  returned  is  disitibuted  amon^t 
the  inmates  of  various  hospitals,  asylums,  and  charitable 
and  reformatory  institutions  in  the  District  of  Columbia, 
and  in  1884  23,152  magazines,  pamphlets,  ibc.,  were  thus 
disposed  of.- 

Three  jysars  alter  the  passage  by  the  British  parliauiont^of  th« 
Electric  Telegraph  Act  (1868-69)  the  subject  of  a  mmilar  tnnsfcr 
of  the  rights  of  the  tclegra]ili  companies  to  tl>*  ]io.sl-oil'ico  of  tlio 
United  States  was  strongly  urged  by  the  postmaster- general  of 
that  country,  Mr  Crcswcll,  and  ho  renewed  his  recommendations 
the  succeeding  year  ;  the  sulyect  also  recurred  at  intcrrala  in  the 
annual  reports  of  tlio  jiost  office  dci>artment  for  mibseiiuont  yean: 
In  188'2  Mr  Howe  admitted  that  he  had  been  "forced  to  the  conj 
elusion  that  the  time  lias  fully  come  when  the  telegraph  and  postal 
service  should  be  embraced  under  one  management";  a  year  latoi;' 
however,  Mr  Orcsham  states  that  be  "  should  hesitate  to  sanctioii 
a  measure  providing  that  Oio  United  States  shall  become  th» 
proprietor  of  telegraph  lines  and  operate  them  by  its  oSicots  and 


580 


P  0  S  TO  F  F  I  C  E 


[feance. 


Agents. "    Mr  Hatton  in  liia  first  report  as  postmaster-general,  that 
[for  1884,  is  silent  upon  this  subject.  | 

Mr  Creswell  took  occasion  in  1871  to  recommend  also  tne  estab- 
jlishmeut  of  postal  savings  banks  in  the  United  States,  and  this 
'subject  he  made  of  peculiar  interest  at  the  time  by  the  sugges- 
tion that  the  money  needed  to  purchase  existing  telegraph  lines 
could  be  raised  through  the  postal  sa"vings  banks,  cei-tainly  a  timely 
suggestion  to  accompany  the  two  simultaneous  recommendations. 
The  establishment  of  postal  savings  banks  has  also  been  the  fre- 
quent subject  of  departmental  and  congressional  discussion  without 
decisive  action.  The  utility  and  expediency  of  the  measure  have 
not  been  doubted,  but  singularly  enough  what  has  seemed  to  be  an 
insuperable  obstacle  to  the  inauguration  of  the  system  has  been 
encountered.  The  policy  of  the  Government,  with  its  vast  surplus 
revenue  of  late  years,  has  been  to  gradually  and  surely  reduce  the 
national  debt,  which,  it  would  seem  from  the  progress  already  made 
in  that  direction,  is  certain  of  ultimate  extinction  in  the  course  of 
a  few  years.  It  is  plain,  however,  although  the  difficulty  does  not 
seem  to  have  occurred  to  many  of  the  advocates  in  the  United 
States  otisavings  banks  system,  that  to  be  lasting  it  must  be  founded 
upon  a  permanent  Government  debt,  a  condition  which  does  not  and 
is  not  likely  to  exist  in  that  counti^.  Interest  cannot  be  paid  to 
depositors  for  funds  which  are  not  needed  and  which  cannot  be  pro- 
fitably employed.  Until  this  problem  is  solved,  it  is  not  probable 
that  this  feature  will  be  added  to  the  postal  'system  of  the  United 
States,  where,  hewever,  the  practice  of  careful  economy  has  not  yet 
become  a  common  habit  of  the  masses  of  the  people,  and  where 
the  security  for  small  savings  afforded  by  Government  institutions 
would  tend  to  foster  habits  of  thrift.  A  Bill  to  establish  a  postal 
savings  depository  as  a  branch  of  the  post-office  department  was 
introduced  in  the  House  of  Representatives  oil  8th  February  1882, 
and  an  elaborate  report  was  made  thereon,  21st  February  1882,  by 
the  committee  on  the  post-office  and  post-roads,  to  whom  the  Bill 
had  been  referred.  The  measure  was  never  acted  upon  and. has 
not  since^been  revived.  ( W.  B.  C*. ) 

FraSCE. 

Early  The  French  postal  system  was  founded  by  Louis  XI. 

liistor^.  ngth  June  1464),  was  largely  extended  by  Charles  IX. 
(1565),  and  received  considerable  improvements  at  various 
periods  under  the  respective  Governments  of  Henry  IV. 
and  Louis  XIII.  (1603,  1622,  1627  sq.y  In  the  year 
last-named  (1627)  France,  so  often  during  long  ages'pre- 
eminent  in  "  teaching  the  nations  how  to  live,"  originated 
a  postal  money-transmission  syst^em,  expressly  prefaced  by 
those  cautions  about  transmission  of  coin  jn  ordinary  letters 
|Which  are  now  familiar  to  all  eyes  in  the  windows  of 
lEnglish  post-offices  (but  which  no  eyes  saw  there  a  dozen 
years  ago),  and  in  the  same  yeai"  it  established  a  system 
of  cheap  registration  for  letters.  The  postmaster  who 
thus  anticipated  19th-century  improvements  was  Pierre 
d'Alm^ras,  a  man  of  high  birth,  who  gave  about  £20,000 
'(of  modern  money)  for  the  privilege  of  serving  the  public. 
The  turmoils  of  the  Fronde  wrecked  much  that  he  had 
achieved.  The  first  farm  of  postal  income  was  made  in 
|1672,  and  by  farmers  it  was  administered  until  June  1790. 
To  increase  the  income  postmasterships  for  a  long  time 
were  not  only  sold  but  made  hereditary.  Many  adminis- 
trative improvements  of  detail  were  introduced,  indeed, 
by  Mazarin  (1643),  by  Louvois  (c.  1680  sq.),  and  by 
Cardinal  de  Fleury  (1728);  but  many  formidable  abuses 
also  continued  to  subsist.  The  revolutionary  Government 
transferred  rather  than  removed  them.  Characteristically, 
it  put  a  board  of  postmasters  in  room  of  a  farming  post- 
master-general and  a  controlling  one.  The  keen  and 
far-seeing  mind  of  Napoleon  (during  the  consulate  -)  abol- 
ished the  board,  recommitted  the  business  to  a  postmaster- 
general  as  it  had  been  under  Louis  XIIL,  and  greatly 
improved  the  details  of  the  service  :  Napoleon's  organiza- 
tion of  1802  is,  in  substance,  that  which  obtains  in  1885, 
although,  of  course,  large  modifications  and  developments 
have  been  made  from  time  to  time.' 

'  For  the  details,  see  Ency.  Brit.,  8th  ed.,  vol.  xviii.  pp.  420-424, 
and  Maxime  Du  Camp,  "  L'Administration  des  Postes,"  in  Revue  des 
'Deux  Mondes  (1865),  ser.  2,  Ixvii.  169  sq.     ■ 

'  28  Pluviose,  an  XII.  =  18th  February  1804. 

'  Le  Quien  de  la  Neufville,  Usages  des  Postes,  1730,  pp.  59-67;  80, 
121-123. 147-149,  286-291:  Maxime  Du  Camp,  op.  cit,  passim;  Pierre 


The  university  of  Paris,' as  early  as  the  13th  oentury, 
possessed  a  special  postal  system,  for  the  abolition  of 
which  in  the  18th  it  received  a  large  compensation.  But 
it  continued  to  possess  certain  minor  postal  privileges  until 
the  Revolution.* ,_ 

"^  Mazarin 's  edict  of  3d  December  1643  shows  that  France 
at  that  date  had  a  parcel  post  as  well  as  a  letter  poe^ 
That  edict  creates  for  each  head  post-oflBce  throughout^ 
the  kingdom  three  several  officers  styled  respectively  (1) 
comptroller,  (2)  weigher,  (3)  assessor ;  and,  instead  ot 
remunerating  them  by  salary,  it  directs  the  addition  6t 
one-fourth  to  the  existing  letter  ra^e  and  parcel  rate,  and 
the  division  of  the  surcharge  between  the  three.  Fleur/a 
edicts  of  1728  make  sub-postmasters  directly  responsible 
for  the  loss  of  letters  or  parcels ;  they  also  make  it  necessary 
that  senders  should  post  their  letters  at  an  office,  and  not 
give  them  to  the  carriers,  and  regulate  the  book-post  by 
directing  that  book  parcels  (whether  MS.  Or  printed)  shall 
be  open  at  the  ends.^  In  1758,  almost  eighty  years  after 
Dockwra's  establishment  of  a  penny  post  in  London,  an 
historian  of  that  city  published  an  account  of  it,  which 
in  Paris  came  under  the  eye  of  a  man  of  similar  spirit  and 
enterprise  to  Dockwra.  Claude  Piarron  de  Chamousset* 
obtained  letters-patent  to  do  the  like,  and,  before  setting 
to  work  or  seeking  profit  for  himself,  he  issued  a  tract  with 
the  title,  Memoire  sur  la  petite-poste  etahlie  d,  Londres,  sur  la 
modele  de  laquelle  on  pourrait  en  etahlir  de  semhlables  dans 
les  plus  grandes  villes  d' Europe.  The  reform  so  worthily 
begun  was  successfully  carried  out. 

By  this  time  the  general  post-office  of  France  was  pro-, 
ducing  a  considerable  and  grovring  revenue.  In  1676  the 
farmers  had  paid  to  the  king  £48,000  in  the  money  of 
that  day.  A  century  later  they  paid  a  fixed  rent  of 
£352,000,  and  covenanted  to  pay  in  addition  one-fifth 
of  their  nett  profits.  In  1788 — the  date  of  the  last  letting 
to  farm  of  the  postal  revenue — the  fixed  and  the  variable 
payments  were  commuted  for  one  settled  sum  of  £480,000 
a  year.  The  result  of  the  devastations  of  the  Revolution 
and  of  the  wars  of  the  empire  together  is  shown  strikingly 
by  the  fact  that  in  1814  th.&  gross  income  of  the  post-office 
was  but  little  more  than  three-fifths  of  the  nett  income  in 
1788.  Six  years  of  the  peaceful  government  of  Louis 
XVIII.  raised  the  gross  annual  revenue  to  £928,000.  On 
the  eve  of  the  revolution  of  1830  it  reached  £1,348,000.' 
Towards  the  close  of  the  next  reign  the  post-office  yielded 
£2,100,000  (gross).  Under  the  revolutionary  Govem-j 
ment  of  1848-49  it  declined  again  (falling  in  1850  to 
£1,744,000) ;  under  that  of  Napoleon  III.  it  rose  steadily, 
and  uniformly  with  every  year.  In  1858  the  .gross  re^ 
venue  was  £2,296,000,  in  1868  £3,596,000. 

The  most  important  postal  reforms  in  France  (other  tha^ 
those  which  we  have  already  noticed)  are  briefly  these  :-i« 
( 1 )  the  extension  of  postal  facilities  to  all  the  communes 
of  the  country, — effected  under  Charles  X.,  placing  the 
France  of  1829  in  certain  postal  particulars  in  advance  of 
the  United  States  of  187&  ;  (2)  the  adoption  of  postage 

Clemeut,  Appreciation  des  Consequences  de  la  Rifcrrw  posiale,  passim; 
Loret,  Gazette  rimie,  16th  August  1653  ;  Furetiere,  Le  Roman  Bour- 
geois (in  Du  Camp,  ui  supra);  "Die  ersten  Posteinrichtungen,  u.8.w.,*J 
iu  V  Union  Posiale,  viii.  138  ;  Ordonnances  des  Rois  de  France,  as 
cited  by  A.  de  Rothschild,  Histoire  de  la  Posie-aux-Letires,  i.  171,  216,^ 
269  (3ded.,  1876).  We  quote  M.  de  Rothschild's  clever  book  with 
some  misgivings.  It  is  eminently  sparkling  in  style,  and  most  read-' 
able  ;  but  its  citations  are  so  given  th.it  one  is  constantly  in  doubt 
lest  they  be  given  at  second  or  even  at  third  hand  insteajl  of  from  th«' 
sources.  The  essay  of  M.  Du  Camp  is,  up  to  its  date,  far  more  trust 
worthy.  He  approaches  his  subject  as  a  publicist,  M.  de  Rothschila 
as  a  stamp-collector. 

■*  There  are  several  charters  confirmatory  of  this  original  privilegB 
The  earliest  of  these  is  of  1296  (Philip  "  the  Fair  "). 

^  Ordonnances,  &c.,  as  above. 

*  There  is  an  interesting  biographical  notice  of  Piarron  de  Chamoasuft 
in  Lc  Journal  Officiel  of  5th  July  1875. 


FRANCE.J 


POST -OFFICE 


581 


etamps,  -effected  under  the  presidency  ot  Louis  ixapoieon 
(1849)  ;  (3)  the  organization  of  an  excellent  system  of  not 
Dnly,  transmitting  but  insuring  articles  -of  declared  value, 
whatoVBT  their  nature,  —  effected  under  Napoleon  III. 
n859>;  (4)  the  issue  of  postar  notes  payable  to,  bearer 
(I860);  (5)  the  establishment  of  a  post-oflBce  library 
(l878);  (6)  the  creation  of  postal  sayngs  banks  (1880). 

France,  as  we  have  seen,  possessed  a  postal  money- 
tralnsmission  service  as  early  as  1627f^  But  for  almost  two 
centuries  the  thing  the  remitter  delivered  at  the  post-office 
was  the  thing  given  to  the  payee,  whether  it  were  coin 
or  paper  money.  In  1817  the  money-transmission  service 
became  a  money-order  service.  In  that  year  the  aggre- 
gate value  of  inland  money  orders  was  £364,000,  in  1830 
£528,000,  in  1845  £844,000,  in  1864  £4,520,000,  in  1868 
£6,280,000,  in  1877  £9,238,644,  in  1878  £11,036,712, 
In  1881  £18,793,188,  in  1882  £19,655,117,  in  1883 
£20,770,078.  The  average  amount  of  each  order  varied 
Very  little  during  the  fifty-eight  years  1821  to  1878,  rang- 
ing only  between  28  francs  62  centimes  and  30  francs 
[twenty-four  shillings).  The  number  of  orders  was  in  t.' 
first-named  year  only  317,642.  In  1868  the  number  was 
"in  round  figures)  5,320,000;  in  1878  it  tad  grown  to 
,304,840,  in  1881  to  14,626,117,  in  1882  to  15,791,774, 
»nd  in  1883  to  16,808,627.1  The  average  amount  of  each 
order  has  been,  since  1878,  somewhat  upon  the  increase.^ 
France  may  also  fairly  claim  to  have  been  in  advance 
of  the  United  Kingdom  not  only  in  facilities  for  the  safe 
transmission  of  money  and  other  precious  commodities  but 
also  in  the  facilities  of  book  post  and  parcel  post.  In  the 
tariff  for  ordinary  correspondence,  however,  it  has  always 
contrasted  unfavourably.  '  Whilst  under  the  regulations 
'«f  January  1849  and  of  July  1854  respectively  the  letter 
tariff  was  double  that  of  Great  Britain,  it  has  come  to  be 
treble  since  the  Udoption  by  the  latter  country  of  the  one- 
ounce  unit  of  charge;  IJd.  is  the  French  rate  under  the 
regulation  (M.  Cochery's)  of  1st  May  1878  for  a  half-ounce 
letter;  Id.  is  the  English  rate  for  an  ounce  letter.  Post- 
cards are  charged  double  the  English  rate.'  The  growth 
of  postal  correspondence  in  France  prior  to  the  great  check 
inflicted  by  the  calamities  of  1870-71  may,  very  briefly, 
be  shown  thus  :■ — 

Table  XVXIL— Comparative  Numbers  of  LetUr>,  Newspapers, 
and  Books  conveyed. 


Ordinary  Letters,* 

Boglstered  Letters. 

Newspapers  and 
Book-Parcels. 

18tt         "' 

1857 
J  1807 
I1868 

126,480,000 
252,921,942 

849,836,000 

176,000 
*.  850.000 

c.  4.60O.00O 
e.  15.000.000. 

IThe  Ingenuity  of  the  French  postal  authorities  was  severely  tried 
By  the  exigencies  of  the  German  War  of  1870-71  ;  but  they  proved 
Iheraflelves  singularly  successful  in  maintaining  a  correspondence, 
inland  and  foreign,  under  difliculties  which  were  probably  greater 
than  any  postal  staff  had  ever  before  bad  to  encounter  since  posts 
(fere  known.    The  first  contrivanco  was  to  organize  a  pigeon  service,' 

»  Those  figures  apply  only  to  inland  orders  issued. 

'  Bernard,  "  Notice  sur  le  Service  postal  en  France,"  in  Journal  des 
tconomistes,  ser.  3,  iv.  36fi-.'?86  ;  SlalUlique  giniraU  du  Servke 
^o^lal,  1881,  v.  sa. 

'  Recueil  3i  n^nseii/nentenis mr  le  RigirM postal,  6  ;  Annuaire  des 
foates^tUT  various  years,  to  1883  inclusive,  passirrt.  Comp.  Reports 
<tf  Seareiuries  of. Embassy,  he.  Franco  (1879),  6. 

*  During  the  years  from  1849  to  1857  ordinary  letter*  in  Franco 
Ini.reased  at  tho  annual  rate  of  12i  per  cent,  (under  Napoleon  III.  aa 
president  wid  as  enaperor^ ;  during  tho  rest  of  his  rule  the  yearly  rate 
(|{  increase  is  calculated  (to  1869  inclusive)  at  3i  per  cent  only. 

'  The  employmept  of  pigeons  as  carriers  of  despatches  dates  from  a 
xWTy  early  period,  the  curious  .annals  of  which  are  given  in  Die  Tauben- 
tost  (Berlin);  It  was  not,  however,  until  tho  commencement  of  tho 
present  century  that  thoy  were  systematically  utilized  a»  bearers  of 
iHfssages  to  the  sporting  and  other  papers.  Before  the  organization  of 
the  electric  telegraph  pigeons  were  regularlv  employed  by  the  members 


carrying  microscopic  despatches  prepared  by  the  aid  of  photographft 
appliances.'  The  number  of  postal  pigeons  employed  was  363,  o( 
which  number  fifty-seven  returned  with  despatches.  During  tli^ 
height  of  the  siege  the  English  postal  authorities  received  letter* 
for  transmission  by  pigeon  post  into  Paris  by  way  of  Tours,  subject  to 
the  regulations  that  no  information  concerning  the  war  was  given,' 
that  the  number  of  words  did  not  exceed  twenty,  that  the  letters 
were  delivered  open,  and  that  6d.  a  word,  with  a  registration  fee 
of  6d. ,'  was  prepaid  as  postage  At  this  rate  tho  postage  of  the  20fl( 
letters  on  each  folio  was  f  40,  that  on  the  eighteen  pellicles  of  sixteeri 
folios  each,  carried  by  one  pigeon,  £11,620.  Each  despatch  waS 
repeated  until  its  arrival  had  been  acknowledged  by  balloon  post  jj 
consequently  many  were  sent  off  twenty  and  some  even  more  than 
thirty  times.  The  second  step  was  to  establish  a  regular  system  of 
postal  balloons,  fifty-one  being  employed  for  letter  service  and  six 
for  telegraphic  serrice.  To  Jl.  Durnouf  belongs  very  much  of  fhs 
honour  of  making  the  balloon  service  successful.  On  the  basis  of 
experiments  carried  out  by  him  a  decree  of  26th  September  1870 
regulated  the  new  postal  system.  Out  of  sbity-four  several  ascents, 
each  costing  on  the  average  about  £200,  fifty-seven  achieved  their^ 
purpose,  notwithstanding  the  building  by  Krupp  of  twenty  guns,' 
supplied  with  telescopic  apparatus,  expressly  for  tho  destruction  of 
the  postal  balloons.  Only  five  were  captured,  and  two  others  wers 
lost  at  sea.  Tho  aggregate  weight  of  the  letters  and  newspapers 
thus  aerially  mailed  by  the  French  post-office  amounted  to  about 
eight  tons  and  a  half,  including  upwards  of  3,000,000  letters  ;  and, 
besides  the  aeronauts,  ninety-one  passengers  were  conveyed.  Th« 
heroism  displayed  by  French  balloon  postmen  was  equalled  by  that 
of  many  of  the  ordinary  letter-carriers  in  the  conveyance  of  letton 
through  the  catacombs  and  quarries  of  Paris  and  its  suburbs,  and, 
under  various  disguises,  often  through  the  midst  of  the  Prussian 
army.  Several  lost  their  lives  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty,  in 
some  cases  saving  their  despatches  by  the  sacrifice.  No  less  thaa 
eighty-five  faced  the  extremity  of  danger.*  During  tho  war  the 
llarseilles  route  for  tho  Anglo-Indian  mails  was,  of  course,  aban- 
doned. They  were  sent  through  Belgium  and  Germany,  by  tha 
Brenner  Pass  to  Brindisi,  and  thence  by  Italian  packets  to  Alexan- 
dria.    The  French  route  was  resumed  in  1872.' 

Before  dealing  with  the  latest  statistics  of  the  French  postal  Late-i» 
system,  it  may  be  of  interest  to  cite  from  L' Union  Postale  of  Bern  statistic 
(ii.  87  sq.)  a  brief  comparison  of  the  mail  matter  within  tho  limits' 
of  Paris  with  that  of  the  state  at  large  in  the  year  1874  (Table 
XIX.). 


Paris. 

FrancB. 

1.  Ordinary  chargeable  letters 

».'S,70I,000  . 

1,730,000 

8,935,000 

242,613,000 

647,400 

343,808,000 
6,786,000 
66,634,000 

368,782,000 
4,793,680 

4.  Newspapers,  books,  mercantile  patterns.. 

Grand  total  of  mailed  articles 

349,716,400 

780.703.680 '• 

The  reader  will  observe  on  glancing  from  this  table  to  Table 

■ ■ ■ -~f 

of  the  stock  exchange  for  conveying  early  intelligence  of  tho  state  ol] 
the  money  markets  in  Paris,  &c.,  the  entire  journey  being  broken  up 
into  short  relays  eo  that  transmission  of  messages  uight  be  secured 
even  during  unfavourable  weather. 

At  the  present  time  all  the  important  fortresses  in  France  and 
Germany  have  their  staff  of  voyageur  or  homing  pigeons  that  are  well 
trained  for  50  to  100  miles,  so  that  they  could  bo  relied  on  for  holding 
communication  with  the  fortress  in  case  it  should  be  surrounded  by 
hostile  troops.  The  utility  of  these  birds  in  conveying  messages  from 
tho  sea  in  case  of  war  has  not  yet  been  recognized  in  Britain. 

•  Tho  despatches  carried  by  tho  pigeons  were  in  tho  first  instance 
photographed  on  a  reduced  scale  on  thin  sheets  of  paper,  tho  original 
writiilg  being  preserved,  but  after  tho  ascent  of  the  twenty-fifth  balloon 
leaving  the  city  on  improved  system  was  orgsnized.  Tho  communlca*' 
tions,  whether  public  dcBpatches  or  private  letters,  were  printed '!■ 
ordinary  type,  and  micro-photographed  on  to  thin  films  of  coUodionj 
EachjPelliclo  measured  less  than  2  inches  by  1,  and  the  reproduction 
of  sixteen  folio  pages  of  type  contained  above  3000  private  letter*) 
These  pellicles  were  so  light  that  60,000  despatches,  weighing  less  tbu 
1  gramme,  were  regnrd«d  as  tho  weight  for  one  pigeon.  In  order  td 
ensure  their  safety  during  transit  the  films  were  rolled  up  tightly  and 
placed  in  a  small  quill  which  was  attached  longitudinally  to  one  of  tha 
tail  feathers  of  tho  bird.  On  their  arrival  in  Paris  they  were  fliittened 
out  and  thrown  by  means  of  the  electric  lantern  on  to  a  screen,  copied 
by  clerks,  and  despatched  to  their  destination.  This  method  was  after 
wards  Improved  upon,  sensitive  popar  being  substituted  for  thascraaa 
eo  that  the  letters  wore  printed  at  once  and  distributed. 

'  Scivnteenlh  Report  of  the  rostmaster-Oenrral ,  p.  7. 

»  Boissay,  "If.  Poste  el  la T(SI(!grophio  pendant  le  Si(!ge  de  Paris,* 
in  Journal  des  Economistes,  ser.  3  "ii-  117-129  and  27.')-282.  Cow 
pare  Postal  Oasttte,  \.  7  (1883). 

'  Sixtemlh  Report  of  the  Postmaster-Oeneral,  p.  8. 
'»  Slatistique  giniraU  du  S/miee  postal  (Bom.  1882-83),  pauivu 


58ii 


P  O  S  T-0  F  F  1  C  E 


[acstria-hungaev. 


XVIII.  that  in  1874  the  ordinary  correspondence  of  France  had 
not  recovered  its  former  extent,  as  it  stood  in  1868,  althongh  a 
large  relative  increase  i?  shown  in  the  number  of  registered  letters 
during  1874  as  compared  with  those  of  1868.  Taken  as  a  whole, 
the  postal  traffic  did  not  fully  recover  itself  until  1878  ;  and  even 
then,  although  the  mailed  articles  exceeded  those  of  the  year  imme- 
diately preceding  by  124,310,199,  the  gross  revenue  accruing  from 
letters,  newspapers,  and  parcels  showed  a  diminution  of  £788,150 
as  compared  with  the  gross  revenue  of  1877.  Thenceforward  the 
progress  is  rapid.  The  chief  postal  Uws  now  in  force  are  of  6th 
May  1827,  4th  June  1839,  .25th  January  1873,  3d  May  1876,  6th 
AprU  1878,  5th  February  1879,  and  9th  April  1881. 

The  comparative  postal  statistics  for  all  France  during  the  years 
1881,  1882,  and  1883  stand  thus  :— 

Table  XX. — Number  of  Letters  and  Post-Cards. 


19f;. 

1832. 

1883. 

Tunis  and 

Algiers 

1883. 

635,541,373 

29,589,094 

37,320 

34,368,985 

1.216,9J8 

30,005 

544,193,583 

30,710,500 

48,430 

35,377,336 

1,390,950 

41,134 

563,524,119 

31,394,427 

60,000 

36,777,104 

1,462,815 

63,323 

8,650,266 

69,088 

8,492 

331,283 

10,755 

308 

Inlaud  post-cards .*. 

„  reply  post-cards 
Foreign  letters  sent  .... 
Foreign  post-cards  sent 

11       reply  post-cards 

Total 

600,783,731 

611,761,982 

633,201,S»« 

8,965,172 

In  1882  the  gross  revenue  of  the  entire  French  postal  service^as 
£0,170,146,"' the  total  expenditure  £5,338,273,  and  the  nett  revenue 
£831,873,  In  18831  the.gros3  revenue  amounted  to'£6,429,101, 
the  expenditure  to  £5,678,851,  and  the  nett  revenue  to  £750,250. 
In  1881  the  number  of  post-offices  throughout  France  was  6158  plus 
53,182  letter-boxes,  making  the  total  number  of  postal  receptacles 
69,340.  In  1884  the  number  of  post-offices  proper  had  increased  to 
6565.^  The  aggregate  of  the  postal  and  telegraphic  staff  was  49, 121 
persons  in  1881,  50,268  in  1882,  and  52,636  in  1883.'  The  relative 
number  of  letters  (including  post-cards)  to  each  inhabitant  was 
16  in  1831  as  compared  with  27  to  each  inhabitant  in  the  United 
States,  and  with  38  to  each  in  the  United  Kingdom.  In  1882  the 
proportion  was  16,^  as  compared  with  40,%  in  Great  Britain,  in 
1883  IQ-fn  and  il^^i  respectively.  Were  it  possible  to  deduct  in 
each  case  the  useless,  the  merely  undesired  advertising  communi- 
cations, France  would  contrast  with  Britain,  and  stQl  more  with 
America,  far  less  disadvantageously  than,  on  the  mere  face  of  the 
figures,  it  seems  to  do. 

The  saviug>  banks  system  of  France,  so  far  as  it  is  connected 
with  the  postal  ■  service,  dates  only  from  187.'>.  and  began  then  (at 
firet)  simply  by  the  use  of  post-offices  as  agencies  and  feeders  for  the 
pre-existing  banks.  Prior  to  the  postal  connexion  the  aggregate 
of  the  deposits  stood  at  £22,920,000.  In  1877  it  reached  £32,000,000. 
Postal  savings  banks,  strictly  so  called,  began  only  during  the  year 
1881.  At  the  close  of  1882  they  had  210,712  depositors,  with  an 
aggregate  deposit  of  £1,872,938  sterling ;  and  on  31st  December 

1883  375,838  depositors,  with  an  annual  deposit  of  £3,097,765. 
A  convention  lately  made  between  France  and  Belgium  enables 
depositors  in  either  country  to  transfer  their  accounts  to  the  other 
free  of  charge.*  M.  Auguste  de  Malarce  has  greatly  distinguished 
himself  in  the  promotion  of  savings  banks  of  all  kinds,  and  most 
especially  in  urging  the  formation  of  penny  banks  and  school  banks. 
These,  however,  are  not  directly  connected  with  the  postal  service. 

The  union  of  the  telegraph  vnth.  the  post-office  dates  only  from 
1878.  Prior  to  the  amalgamation  the  number  of  telegraph  offices 
was  4561 ;  in  1883  it  was  already  increased  to  6448.  At  the  former 
date  (1878)  the  lineal  extent  of  the  telegraphs  was  57,090  kilometres 
(35,453  miles) ;  it  is  now  (1885)  upwards  of  87,000  (54,027  miles). 
The  postal  administration  having  begun  its  new  work  by  obtaining 
a  credit  for  further  extensions  and  for  plant,  amounting  to  nearly 
£100,000,  the  tariff  was  reduced  (21st  March  1878)  to  one  "half- 
penny for  each  word,  with  a  minimum  charge  of  5d.'     In  AprU 

1884  France  had  5535  subscribers  to  postal  telephonic  exchanges 
(against  about  4000  in  all  Germany  at  the  same  date,  according  to 
the  Bevue  des  Pastes),  working  under  post-office  licences  of  five 
years'  duration,  and  paying  (as  in  .Great  Britain)  a  royalty  of  10 
percent  The  postal  telephonic  system  began  in  1879.  Up  to  the 
close  of  1883  the  royalties  had  produced  £17,324.  At  Eheims, 
Troyes,  Roubaix,  Tourcoing,  and  St  Quentin  the  post-office  has  its 
own  exchanges.  The  aggregate  number  of  inland  postal  money 
orders  issued  in  France  in  1881  was  14,626,117.  In  1882  the 
numberof  inland  orders  increased  to  15,791,774  (value  £19,655,117), 
ill  1883  to  16,808,627  (value  £20,770,078).  As  compared  with  tha 
population,  the  figures  for  1883  show  an  average  of  45^^  to  every 

1  Stat.  gin.  d.  Serv,  post,.  1883. 
'  Archiv  fur  Post  vnd  Telegrophie.  1884,  p.  570. 

8  Postal  Union  return  for  1883.  The  figures  quoted  are  exclusive  of  the  boy 
messengers  attached  to  the  telegraphic  service. 

*  Auguste  de  Malarce.  in  JoUTnat  des  Economistes,  various  years ;  Twenty^niiUh 
lumrl  of  the  Postinaster-General,  1883,  App.  40. 

*  Archie  fiir  Post  und  Telegraphic.  1S82.  570,  5T1 ;  Joimal  da  Economistes, 
Mr.  4,  il.  Ijl,,  ii" 


100  inhabitants,  the  corresponding  figure  for  England  being  70^, 
for  the  United  States  17-i'ir,  and  for  Italy  14-[%.  The  French  parcel 
post  forwarded  in  1883  11,494,072  inland  parcels,  and  944,795' 
parcels  abroad.  A  word  must  be  added  upbn  a  special  feature  of 
the  French  post-office.  Many  years  ago  it  began  to  collect  books 
upon  postal  subjects  ;  but  up  to  1878  it  had  less  than  900  volumes, 
and  less  than  200  visits  to  consult  them  were  made  in  a  year.  Id 
1884  there  were  about  8000  volumes — postal,  telegraphic,  statistical 
— and  the  annual  visits  for  consulting  them  averaged  2500.  These 
books  are  made  accessible  to  the  general  public  as  well  as  to  the 
postal  staff,  five  rooms  being  set  apart  for  the  books,  periodicals, 
and  readers. 

On  the  whole,  it  may  be  said  that  the  recent  record  of  the  French 
postal  service  is  a  very  honourable  record,  giving  good  augury  oi 
further  improvements  to  come.  Nor  is  it  one  of  the  least  honour-' 
able  items  in  that  record  to  observe  that,  when  the  minister  proposed 
to  the  chamber  of  deputies*  in  1877  an  increased  vote  of  Jt:l8,200 
for  the  better  remuneration  of  the  rural  letter-carriers,  the  chamber 
voted  £69,600  instead. 

Bibliography. —V:  d'Almeras.  P.eglem€nt  sur  le  Port  des  Lettres,  1627  ;  Le  Quietf 
de  la  Neuf\-iUe,  Usages  des  Pastes,  1730 ;  Rowland  Hill,  Report  to  the  Chancellof 
ef  the  Exchequer  on  the  French  Post'O^ce,  1837;  Annuaire  des  Pastes.  1850-84; 
M.  Du"Camp,  "  De  1' Administration  .  .  .  et  de  THotel  des  Postes,"  in  Revu4 
des  Deux  Mond^s,  ser.  3,  1865 ;  Pevue  des  Pastes  et  TiUgraphes.  1870-84 ;  A.  de 
Rothschild,  Histoire  de  la  Poste-anz-Lettres,  1875  ;  "Entwickelung  des  Post-  u. 
Telegraphenwesens  in  Frankreich,"  in  Archiv  f.  Post  u.  TeUgraphi^e,  1882  J 
"Die  franzbsischen  Postsparkassen,"  and  other  articles,  in  L' Union  Postal^ 
Bern,  vols.  vlii. ,  ix. 

AUSTRIA-EUNGART,  GeRMANT,  AND  ItaLT. 
1.  Austria- ffungary. — The  Austrian'  postal  system  is  amOngst 
the  oldest  on  record.  Vienna,  too,  possessed  a  local  letter  post  and 
a  parcel  post,  on  the  plan  of  prepayment,  as  early  as  May  1772,  ai 
which  date  no  city  in  Germany  possessed  the  like.  Curiously  ^ 
enough,  this  local  post  was  established  by  a  Frenchman  (M.  Hardy) 
and  manage'd  bj  a  Dutchman  (Schooten).'  Thirteen  years  after  its 
organization  it  became  merged  in  the  imperial  post.  The  separate 
postal  organizations  of  the  empire  (Austiia)  and  of  the  kingdom 
(Hungaiy)  date  from  1867.  In  Austria  the  post-office  and  the  tele- 
graph-office are  placed  under  the  control  of  the  minister  of  com- 
merce, in  Hungary  under  that  of  the  minister  of  public  works.  Id 
Austria  the  department  'has  twenty-one  travelling  post-offices  ;  in 
Hungary  it  has  ten  such.*  Within  the  limits  of  the  whole  Austrian 
euipii'e  the  lineal  extent  of  the  postal  telegraph  lines  was  20,875 
English  miles  in  1 877,  and  in  1SS3  32,380  miles.  The  total  number 
of  telegraph  stations  was  3958.  The  aggregate  number  of  tele- 
graphic messages  in  1877  (Austria-Hungary)  was  5,358,544,  in  1883 
9,974,993.  The  aggregate  of  mailed  articles  in  Austria'  was 
357,352,270  in  1877,  and  iu  1878  358,427,000.  Deducting  from 
these  figures  the  number  of  newspapers,  book-packets,  and  parcels, 
there  remains  for  letters  and  cards,  jointly,  an  aggregate  of 
233,801,870  in  1877,  and  of  232,867,000  in  1873.  In  1880  the  letters 
and  cards  were  245,660,700,  in  1881  255,618,100.  In  Hungary'" 
the  aggregate  of  letters  and  post-cards  was  61,064,856  in  1877, 
in  1878  59,612,000,  in  1880  78,080,804,  in  1881  82,592,040.  The 
gross  revenue  from  posts  and  telegraphs  stood  thus  in  1882  (accord- 
ing to  the  fiiiancial  estimates  for  that  year) :  Austria  £2,307,300, 
Hungary  £2,128,065,  total  £4,435,365,  of  which  sum  the  postal 
revenue  proper  {i.e.,  letter  and  parcel  services)  supplied  about  two 
and  a  half  millions.  In  1883  the  gross  revenue  of  Austria  was 
£2,002,073.;  that  of  Hungary  was  £790,839  ;  in  the  same  year  the 
respective  expenditures  were  £1,647,373  and  £605,185.  In  Novem- 
ber 1881  a  collecting  service  for  bills  and  invoices  was  organized. 
In  January  1883  the  unit  of  weight  for  inland  letters  was  increased 
from  half  an  ounce  to  tivo-thirds  of  an  ounce,  the  rate  being  IJd.  ■ 
and  in  June  of  the  same  year  the  collection  service  above-named 
was  made  international  betn-een  Austria-Hungary  and  the  German 
empire,  on  the  basis  of  the  country  of  origin  retaining  aU  fees,  and 
the  country  of  payment  remitting  all  sums  collected  by  money  orders 
at  the  usual  rate  of  commission."  In  1882  and  1883  the  chief 
postal  statistics  of  both  divisions  of  ihe  e^apire  were  as  follows " 
(Table  XXI.):— 


Austria. 

Hungarj-.            | 

1882. 

1883. 

188S. 

1883. 

190,737,600 

43,826,800 

31,084,000 

4,113,100 

203,865,600 

48,613,700 

33,357,300 

4,536,400 

09,894,598 

16,478,170 

1,406,574 

153,206 

72,522,335 
18,037.872 
1,680,094  la, 
149,7421^ 

92,290,043 

I  nlaiid  post-cards 

Foreign  letters  sent  ..  .. 
Foreign  post -cards  sent 

Totals 

269,702,400 

290,373,000 

87,932,548 

6  L' Union  Postale,  li.  33  sq. 

'  Loeper,  "  Organisation  des  Postes  de  Ville,"  in  VUnion  Postale,  vii.  1  sq, 

8  Priewe,  "  Le  Service  des  Bureaux  anibulanta,"  in  U  Union  Postale,  vii.  25  sq, 

9  With  a  population  of  21,944,336  (1870- 

JO  With  a  population  of  15.364,533  (end  of  1S76). 

11  L'l'nion  fosfal",  vii.  2S5,  viii.  190. 

12  statistiqtie  peuirale  du  Servicf  postal,  1SS3,  pp.  2-16. 

13  Exclusive  of  3,406.134  letters  and  797.006  post-cards  which  passod  bctweet 
the  two  countries  of  Hungary  and  Germany. 


OE&UASy,  ITALY.] 


POST-OFFICE 


583 


2.  German  Empire^ — The  Prassian  postal  system — now  devel- 
oped (mainly  by  the  ability  and  energy  of  Dr  Stephan,  to  whom 
■tne  organization  of  the  International  Postal  Union  is  so  largely 
indebted)  into  the  admirably  organized  post  and  telegraph  office  of 
the  empire — began  with  the  Great  Elector,  and  with  the  establish- 
meat  in  1646  of  a  Government  post  from  Cleves  to  Uemel.  Frederick 
'II.  largely  exteuded  it,  and  by  his  successor  the  laws  relating  to, it 
WCTe  consolidated.  In  Strasburg  a  messenger  code  existed  as  early 
as  1443.  A. postal  service  was  organized  at  Nuremberg  in  1570. 
In  1803  the  rights  in  the  indemnity-lands  (EnUicltadUjungslandcr) 
of  the'  counts  of  Taxis  as  hereditary  imperial  postmasters  were 
abolished.  The  first  mail  steam-packet  was  built  in  1821  ;  the  first 
transmission  of  mails  by  railway  was  in  1847  ;  the  beginning  of 
the  postal  administration  of  the  telegraphs  was  in  1840  ;  and,  by 
the  treaty  of  postal  union  with  Austria,  not  only  was  the  basis  of 
the  existing  system  of  the  posts-  and  telegraphs  of  Germany  fully 
laid  but  the  gerni  was  virtually  set  of  that  International  Postal 
Union  which  is  now  become  so  widely  fruitful.  That  pregnant 
^treaty  was  made  for  ten  years  on  6th  April  1850,  and  was  immedi- 
ately accepted  by  Bavaria.  It  came  into  full  operation  on  the  1st 
July  following,  and  then  included  Saxony,  Meckleuburg-S.trelitz, 
and  Holstein.  Other  German  states  followed ;  and  the  treaty  was 
Renewed  in  August  1860. 

Between  1850  and  1860  the  number  of  post-ofBces  in  Prussia 
fecreased  by  20^  percent.,  that  of  letters  conveyed  by  115  per  cent, 
^e  postal  staff  during  that  term  increased  from  9029  to  15,471. 
In  1860  the  aggregate  number  of  letters  was  135,377,036,  that  of 
o»dinary  parcels  13,765,336,  that  of  registered  parcels,  with  value 
declared  (£178,937,360),  10,807,293.="  In  1872  the  post-offices  of 
the  empire,  exclusive  of  those  in  Bavaria  and  Wiirtemberg  (each  of 
which  countries  retains  in  postal  and  telegraphic  matters  its  own 
organization),  numbered  5784,  i(i  1883  11,646.  Adding  the  number 
of  letter-boxes,  the  total  of  postal  receptacles  in  those  years  respect- 
ively was  33,362  and  65,175.'  The  aggregate  postal  staff  was 
49,945  persons  in  1872,  in  1883  74,393.*  These  figures  include 
large  numbers  of  persons  who  are,  connected  with  the  transit  of 
travellers,  as  well  as  with  that  of  letters,  parcels,  and  telegrapliic 
messages.  In  1872  the  aggregate  number  of  letters,  cards,  book- 
packets,  and  newspapers  conveyed  was  718,233,000,  in  1883 
1,468,315,000,  or,  with  the  addition  of  Bavaria  and -Wiirtemberg, 
.1,649,345,000. 

For  Berlin  itself  a  private  letter  and  parcel  post  was  established 
Dy  the  commercial -guild  of  the  grocers  and  di'Uggists  in  September 
1800,  and  continued  to  work  under  their  nje  until  1806,  when  it 
was  abolished.  A  regular  delivery  by  letter-carriers,  attached  to 
the  state  postal  organization,  existed  in  Berlin  as  early  as  1712.^ 
In  1376  tne  Berlin  office  employed  a  special  staff  of  3705  persons, 
which  in  1883  had  iucrea-sed  to  6120.  It  delivered  in  1883  postal 
articles  amounting  to  199,600,000  in  number.  ■  It  received  au 
annual  income  for  postage  of  £796,517  in  1883. 

The  nett  revenue  accruing  from  the  wh6le  of  the  imperial  postal 
And  telegraphic  service  iji  1874  was  only  £349,301  sterling  ;°  in 
1881  it  was  £1,060,310  steriing,  in  1882  £1,066,860,  and  in  1883 
£1,172,343.  The  lineal  extent  of  telegraphic  lines  in  the  whole  of 
Germany  was  74,313  kilometres  (46,148  miles)  at  the  close  of  1882 
as  compared  with  72,577  kilometres  (45,070  miles)  in  the  preceding 
year.  There  were  10,803  telegraphic  offices  (10,308  in  preceding 
year).  The  aggregate  number  of  messages  transmitted  in  1883  was 
15,300,816  as  against  12,721,290  in  1879.  Collectively,  the  total 
number  of  money  orders  issued  by  the  postal  service  throughout 
the  German  empii-o  in  1882  was  53,537,440,  showing  an  annual 
Average  a  Uttle  exceeding  one  to  each  inhabitant ;  in  1883  53,935,556 
money  orders,  worth  a  total  of  £161,622,221,  were  issued.  In  1883 
the  aggregate  number  of  ordinary  inland  parcels  forwarded  by  the 
German  parcel  post  was  79,245,700,  that  of  rerfstered  parcels  with 
declared  value  was  5,410,800,  the  aggregate  declared  value  being 
£201,469,460.  The  parcels  sent  abroad  were— ordinary  3,231,970. 
registered  with  declaration  of  value  262,620. 

Blhliography. — Von  Bei^at,  Vernurh  eirv.r  au$/uhrl{cJun  Er}:Iarung  des  Port* 
regttls,  . .  .  injbeaontiere  in  Anschauunfj  d.  h.  r&m.  Ileichs  Teittscher  Nation,  3  vols., 
Jcna^  1747-43  ;  Aviji  instrurAif  an  I'ubtic  .  .  .  pour  la  jH'tile  I'oste  [dc  Vieunt], 
1772 :  Uebrr  die  kleint  Post  in  Wim,  1780 ;  A.  FIcglcr,  Zur  Gexh.  d.  Pastln, 
M58  ;  Ht«pJi.in,  lUin,  Gesrh.  d.  prevM.  Post,  J8.'t9  ;  Fi»chflr,  Die  VcrkehrsanstalUn 
it  deMlsclicn  Bricks,  l'i73;  Vcm  Lindc,  llaflvrrbimllichkett  d.  PO'.lrinstiill ; 
W.  Kotnpe,  Dae  lfandcLiges£tzhw:h  v.  das  Poslrecht ;  Gad,  Die  lla/lpjUrM  d,  d. 
rostanslalten,  lii'33;  Euj,'.  Uartnmnn,  Entwickelunjsgtsch.  d.  Posten,  1608;  P.  D. 

'  The  flgnres  in  this  section  have  been  kindly  revised  by  the  Reichs- 
iMstamt  in  Berlin. 

'  Aemtliches  preassi'schfs  Ilandelmrchiv,  Nos.  15-17  (1863),  as 
qtioted  in  Ilildehraml's  Jahrhuc/ier /ilr  Nalinvalhhmnmie,  i.  ."iOe-SflS  ; 
K.  A.  H.  Sohmid,  "Zur  Gescliiclite  der  Briefjiorto-Reform  in  Deutsch- 
Uod,"  in  Hildebnind's  Jalirbiii' cr,  liL  1-61  (1866);  Journal  des 
Eeonomialea,  ser.  4,  H.  68-71. 

'  Sla(istisch(s  Jahrhuch  f,ir  das  diulache  Reich,  1884,  97  s^. 

*  These,  like  the  other  Ijgiires,  are  excluaivo  of  Bavaria  and  Wiiitem. 

IXTg. 

'  Archh/Hr  Post  und  Telegraphic,  1884,  p.  97. 
'  HilJebraiid.VaftrftUcAcr,  xxvii.  207  sq.  (1570). 


Fischer,  Die  d.  Past-  umt  TeUjrapkie-GeubaebunD,  1876;  0.  Dambach,  Das 
Gcsetz  v.ber  das  Postw'sen  dcs  deutschen  AVicAs,  lasi ;  Archiv /.  Post  u.  Teltgraphie, 
1873-85  ;  F.  X.  von  Neuii-inn-Spallart,  UcbersichUa  iber  Verkehr  in  d.  Wdtwirth- 
scka/t,  I8S5:  Dcutsclie  Vcrkehrszeiiuns,  18S1-S5:  W.  tjeoz.  Kalechiamvs  d.  d. 
Reichspost,  1682. 

3.  Italy.— The  history  of  the  Italian  post-office  is  in  many 
respects  one  of  special  interest.  But  the  limits  of  this  article 
admit  only  of  a  very  brief  statement  of  results.  Its  origin  may 
be  traced  virtually  to  Venice  and  to  the  establishment  of  the 
"Corrieri  di  Venezia"  early  in  the  16th  centuiy.  As  early  as 
1818  the  Sardinian  post-office  issued  stamped  letter-paper.  The 
total  nuDiber  of  letters,  newspapers,  and  book -packets  conveyed 
in  1S62  was.  but  111,733,319.  Ten  years  later  there  was  an 
aggregate  of  232,242,677,  and  in  1882  one  of  333,242,148.  The 
comparative  growth  of  postal  traffic  in  letters  and  post-cards  may 
be  shown  thus :  in  1869  the  aggregate  number  was  87,613,348, 
in  1870  89,430,261,  in  1880  189,207,627,  in  1881  194,587,021,  ia 
1882  204,644,355,'  in  1883  216,944,382. 

The  growth  of  postal  savings  banks  in  Italy  is  on  the  whole 
satisfactory,  as  will  be  seen  by  a  glanc(!  at  the  following  table 
(XXII.).— 


Xo.  of  Bank.s. 

No.  of  Accounts 
(31st  Dec). 

Araount  of  Deposits 
(31.st  Dec). 

1876 
1879 
1881 
1882 
1883 

1939 
8250 
8406 
3488 
3584 

67,354 
236,869 
471,094 
582,018 
805,988 

£97,735 
1,019,291 
2,679,878 
3,398,049 
4,485,11'! 

In  the  year  1881  the  accounts  opened  were  143,410  and  249,741  in 
1883  ;  those  closed  were  12,161  in  1881  and  35,771  in  1883.  The 
average  of  each  deposit  increased  (omitting  fractions)  from  £1, 4s.  3d. 
in  1876  to  £3,  16s.  Id.  in  1581„and  decreased  to £3,  4s.  8d,  in  1883. 
The  average  sum  standing  to  the  credit  of  each  depositor  was 
£5,  12s.  lid.  in  1881  and  in  1883  £5,  lis.  3d.  The  number  of 
accounts  opened  in  1883  was  249,741  as  against  144,485  opened  in 
1882.  This  rapid  increase,  and  the  corresponding  diminution  in 
the  average  amount  of  each  deposit  and  of  the  average  sum  stand- 
ing to  the  credit  of  each  depositor,  are  due  to  the  regulation  of 
ISth  February  1883,  which  came  into  operation  on  1st  May  follow- 
ing, and  by  which  post-office  savings  banks  were  authorized  to 
accept  as  deposits  cards  bearing  sufficient  ten -centime  postage 
stamps  to  make  up  the  sum  of  one  lira  (9.Jd.). ,  Between  1st  May 
and  31st  December  193,763  such  cards  were  deposited.  Tlio 
financial  results  of  the  post-office  savings  banks  service  for  1883 
show  a  nett  gain  of  £29,768  ;  the  total  gain  from  1876  to  1883  was 
£90,345.  It  is  the  purpose  of  the  po.stal  administration  to  make 
by  degrees  the  number  of  the  postal  savings  Ijanks  identical  with 
that  of  the  post-offices."  That  administration  is  .now  (1885)  a 
dependency  upon  the  ministry  of  public  works.  There  were 
issued  in  1883  for  Italy  itself  4,207,544  money  orders,  valued  at 
£21,706,968,  and  for  countries  abroad  17,087,  valued  at  £164,174. 

The  Italian  parcel  post  despatched  in  the  first  three  months  of 
1882  489,687  articles,  in  tho  corresponding  period  of  1883  869,280; 
it  received  respectively  486,814  (1882)  and  978,559  (1883).'  The 
number  of  parcels,  both  inland  and  foreign,  conveyed  in  1882  was 
2,877,201.  In  1883  3,747,182  inland  and  180,828  foreign  parcels 
were  despatched  by  parcel  post.  The  nett  postal  revenue  in  1882 
was  £197,257  (against  £162,676  in  1881),  to  which  sum  the  parcel 
post  contributed  £27,078.'"  Tlio  neit  postal  revenue  in  1883  was 
£213,537.  The  parcel  post  of  Italy  dates  only  from  1881  (October), 
since  which  time  it  has  carried  more  than  nine  millions  of  parcels, 
which  it  registers,  paying  for  loss  or  damage  during  transit.  But 
the  service  is  so  excellently  Oiganizcd  that  tho  administration  has 
hitherto  (1886)  had  to  pay  but  a  very  insignificant  sum  as  compen- 
sation. 

poetaii  coxoeesses  and  international  postal 

Union  at  Been. 
Substantially,  tbo  first  step  tovrards  an  cfTectual  postal 
union  was  taken  at  Paris  in  June  18G3,  when  delegates 
from  France,  Great  Britain,  Austria,  Prussia,  Italy,  Spain, 
Belgium,  Holland,  Portugal,  Switzerland,  Denmark,  tlie 
Hanseatic  towns,  the  United  States  of  America,  and  Costa 
Rica  met  in  congress,  under  the  presidency  of  M.  Vandal, 
the  then  postmaster-general  of  France.  Tho  conference 
recommended  (1)  an  optional  prepayment  of  foreign  letters, 
with  a  reduction  of  the  difTercntial  charge  between  paid 
and  unpaid ;  (2)  a  readjustment  of  tho  regulations  concern- 
ing the  international  weighing  and  taxing  of  letters;  (3)  a 

r  StalisliijiK  gtncmlt,  1SS2.  "  Ann.  di  SliUist.  ii.  263. 

'  L' Union  Poslole,  viii.  164. 

'•  "Lo  Service  dcs  f'olis  postaiix  en  Italic,"  in  V  Union  Paslale. 
November  1884,  ix.  229  sq. 


584 


P  O  S  T-0  F  F  I  C  E 


[postal  UNIONi 


reduction  of  the  transit  tariff;  ^  (4)  an  improved  regulation 
as  to  the  choice  of  routes  of  transit  for  letters  addressed  to 
remote  parts  of  the  world  ;  and  (5)  great  improvements  in 
the  international  money -order  system,  and  in  the  postal 
transmission  of  articles  of  special  value.^  Thus  a  basis  was 
practically  laid  for  the  treaty  of  Bern  of  1874.  What  was 
achieved  in  1874  and  extended  in  1878  had  also  been 
largely  promoted  by  the  proceedings  and  example  of  several 
local  conferences  on  postal  affairs  held  at  various  dates  in 
Germany.  Certain  intermediate  international  conferences, 
more  or  less  largely  constituted,  also  helped  to  prepare  the 
way  for  the  great  results  of  1874.  Though  here  necessarily 
limited  to  brief  notices  of  the  treaty  of  Bern  and  of  the 
congress  at  Paris  (four  years  later),  a  word  or  two  must  be 
afforded  to  a  curious  anticipation  by  an  enterprising  Swiss 
of  a  social  reform  destined  to  be  realised  at  a  distance  of 
almost  two  centuries.  Amongst  the  many  political  schemes 
which  the  dread  of  the  advance  of  France  towards  a  pre- 
dominating sway  in  Europe  gave  rise  ia  the  17th  centiuy 
was  that  of  Beatus  Fischer,  who  strove  zealously  to  seat 
at  Bern  a  postal  union — representing  Austria,  the  empire,^ 
the  electorate  of  Brandenburg,  Great  Britain,  the  Nether- 
lands, Italy,  Spain,  and  Switzerland — which  ghould  organize 
and  administer  a  great  network  of  postal  routes,  independ- 
ently of  France.'  But  France  was  still  too  strong,  and  the 
incidental  difficulties  too  great.  The  attempt,  however,  led 
to  minor  postal  reforms  in  various  places. 
Fieaty  At  Bern  in  1874  postal  delegates  of  twenty-two  states 
of  Bern,  assembled,  representing  an  aggregate  population  of  350 
millions.'  An  eminent  Frenchman  had  given  a  great  im- 
pulse to  the  initiatory  movement  in  1863  ;  a  Belgian  (M. 
jVinchent)  and  a  Prussian  (Dr  Stephan)  were  the  principal 
leaders  of  its  jievelopment  in  1874. *  Both' had  already 
rendered  distinguished  service  to  their  respective  countries. 
JA  half-ounce  unit  of  weight  for  ordinary  letters ;  a  uniform 
charge,  wholly  irrespective  of  distance,  of  2|d.  for  a  letter 
irom  any  one  country  within  the  Union  "to  any  other ; 
uniform  rates  for  newspapers  (Id.  for  4  oz.)  and  for 
book-parcels,  law-papers,  meroantile  samples  (Id.  for  every 
2  oz.) ;  a  transit  rate  greatly  reduced ;  a  regulation  (very 
fruitful  in  good  results)  that  "  each  post-office  shall  retain 
its  own  collections,  and  that  pajTnents  due  for  transit  shall 
be  estimated  only  from  accounts  taken  twice  in  each  year," 
were  among  the  chief  improvements  effected.  M.  Vinchent 
(l7th  September  1874)*  suggested  the  creation  of  an 
international  board  ;  and  the  proposal  met  with  the  zealous 
support  of  Dr  Stephan,  of  Dr  William  GUnther  (whose 
death  in  December  1882  was  a  great  loss  to  the  post-office 
of  Germany),  and  of  other  leaders  of  the  conference.  The 
office^o  established  is  supported  by  contributions,  graduated 
roughly— not  merely  according  to  extent  of  postal  traffic 
but  in  part  according  to  national  rank — from  the  several 
administrations.  There  are  six  classes  of  such-  contribu- 
tories.  Each  country  in  the  first  class  contributes  25 
parts  of  the  total  expense,  each  of  the  second  class  20 
parts,  of  the  third  15,  of  the  fourth  10,  of  the  fifth  5, 
and  of  the  sixth  3  parts.     It  is  covenanted  that  the  total 

'  AU  the  euvoys,  the  Itali.in  envoy  excepted,  advocated  such  i 
tariff  as  should  leave  some  surplus,  by  way  of  reserve  fund,  for  iraprove- 
tnents  in  the  services.  And  iu  1863  adherence  to  a  distance-scale, 
albeit  a  liberal  one,  obtained  favour  universally. 

'  Various  contemporary  reports  in  periodicals;  Schraid,  "Der 
deutsche  Brief porlo-Tarif,"  kc,  in  Jahrbilcher,  ii.  187-205. 

'  The  details  are  given  in  L' Union  Poslale  (of  August  1883),  viii. 
190. 

*-Full  and  able  reports  of  the  proceedings  will  be  found  in  the  pre- 
liminary numbers  of  V  Union  Postale,  October  to  December  1875, 
and  additiom.1  particulars  in  later  numbers.  A  good  summary  is 
given  by  M.  Bonnaud,  "Le  Congres  Postal,"  &c.,  in  'Journal des  £cono- 
[mistes,  ser.  4,  ii.  419  sq. 

'  Treaty  of  Bern,  9th  October  1874  (Sessional  Papers  of  House  of 
Commons,  "  presented  by  command"). 


expense  shall  not  exceed  £3000  a  year.  No  rule  was  laid 
down  as  to  the  composition  of  the  board.  But  the  persona 
entrusted  wisely  determined  that  "it  should  be  inter- 
national in  composition  as  in  attributions,"  All  its  proj 
ceedings  are  reported  in  its  official  organ,  L'  Union  Postale; 
which  is  trilingual  (German,  French,  English)  and  appears 
monthly.  Dr  Stephan  did  not  err  by  over -enthusiasm 
when  he  said  at  the  close  of  the  proceedings,  "You  enter 
upon  one  of  the  most  important  fields  of  action  in  the 
intercourse  of  nations;  .  .  .  you  are  promoting  an  eminent 
work  for  their  peace  and  their  prosperity."  The  work  so 
successfully  begun  at  Bern  was  extended  at  Paris,  when 
from  representing  twenty-two  states  the  Union  came  to 
represent  thirty-three,  and  the  350  millions  of  (in  a  certain 
sense)  its  "constituents"  had  grown  to  653  millions. 

The  work  before  the  convention  at  Paris  in  June  1878ConTe) 
consisted  mainly  in  the  application  of  'four  years'  experi- 1'"". «' 
ence,  in  the  postal  administrations  of  the  constituent  states,  F?!^' 
to  the  improvement  of  details.  It  made  improved  regula- 
tions with  respect  to  transit  between  countries  within  the 
Union  and  those  which  still  remained  outside  of  it.  It 
guaranteed  rights  of  transit  throughout  the  entire  Union. 
It  extended  stipulations,  made  at  Bern,  to  postal  exchanges 
between  members  of  the  Union  and  extraneous  countries, 
in  cases  wherein  fhe  postal  service  of  two  at  least  of  the 
contracting  countries  were  employed.    It  provided  that  ex-  '' 

penses  of  transit  should  be  borne  by  the  country  of  origin.' 
In  some  cases  it  slightly  enhanced  the  unit  of  charge  whilst 
considerably  extending  the  unit  of  weight.  It  made  valu- 
able improvements  in  the  regulations  concerning  compensa- 
tions for  loss  during  transit.  Finally,  it  made  provision 
for  a  postal  congress  to  revise  and  to  improve  all  pending 
rules  and  matters  at  least  once  in  every  five  years.^  The 
last  congress  was  held  at  Lisbon  in  February  1885.  One  Congn 
of  the  matters  which  claimed  its  attention  calls  impera-ft^*' 
tively  for  some  notice  here.  Whilst  the  growing  action  J^jV 
of  the  Postal  Union  tends  constantly  to  simpUficaiion  and 
identity  of  postal  systems,  there  still  exists  great  diversity 
of  national  practice  and  of  national  law  on  the  important 
point  of  the  ownership  of  a  letter  whilst  in  transit.  In 
Great  Britain  it  lies,  for  the  time  being,  in  the  queen,  as 
represented  by  her  postmaster-general  and  her.  secretary 
of  state.  Neither  sender  nor  addressee  can  claim  to  inter- 
fere with  a  letter  whilst  in  the  post-office.  Only  the  war- 
rant of  a  secretary  of  state  can  stay  its  delivery.  In  Her 
Majesty's  Indian  empire,  however,  the  sender  has  virtually 
a' property  in  the  letter  until  delivery,  and  may  (under 
regulations)  recall  it.  So  is  it  in  Belgium,  in  Austria  and 
Hungary,  in  Portugal,  in  Russia,  and  in  the  Scandinavian 
states,  whilst  in  Canada  the  letter  belongs  to  its  addressee 
as  soon  as  it  is  posted.  In  the  Netherlands  there  is  no 
precise  law,  but  the  sender  may  claim  return  prior  to 
actual  postal  despatch ;  the  case  is  virtually  similar  in 
France.  In  Italy,  in  Spain,  and  in  Greece  the  addressee 
(as  in  Canada)  has  an  absolute  property  in  the  letter 
when  once  posted.^  A  very  recent  decision  of  the 
French  council  of  state  extends  the  French  provision,* 
practically,  in  favour  of  the  sender  up  to  actual  delivery, 
leaving  it  to  the  postal  administration  to  regulate  .the 
forms.  _ 

Subjoined  is  a  tabular  view  (Table  XXIII.)  of  postaJ 
statistics  of  the  principal  countries  comprised  within. the 
Postal  Union  for  the  year  1 883. 

«  .Cmivention  of  Paris  (Commons'  Papers  of  TJ79,  No.  2309)  ;  BoDj 
naud,  "Le  Congres  Postal,'l,in  Journal  des  Sconomistes,  .sei.  A,  ii. 
-418  sq.' 

.L/'Das  Eigenthumsrecht  an  die  'Poaisend\mgih,^limyArihiv''/iir 
'Postund  Telegraplde,  1882,  p.  239  sq. 

«  "Bulletin  meusuel  des  Postes,"  Ar-Tist  1834,  mV Union  Postale 
September  1884  (ix.  208). 


POSTAGE  STAMPS.] 


P  O  S  T-0  F  F  I  C  E 


585 


Table  XXIII. — Comparative  Taile  of  the  pontion  of  the  Postal 
Service  in  the  principal  Countries  belonging  to  the  Postal  Union, 
/or  the  year  1883.' 


lit 

l! 

■Eg 

II 
1 

IB 

ll 
11 

■S-g 
«3 
■oS 

6 
2 

c 

i 
1 

o 

1 

Gross 
Revenue. 

Nett  Revenue 
or  DeBcit. 

Argentine  Re- 
public 
J  Austria  .... 
1  Hungary    . . 

Belgium    

Canada  

ChiU 

Denmark  .... 

Egypt  

France 

Germany 

Great  Britain 

Greece 

Holland   

IndiaS 

lUly 

Japan    

Norway    — 
Portu^  — 

Rusfiia 

Spain    

Sweden 

Switzerland.. 
United  States 

11,995,473 

290,373,000 

92,290,043 

107,662,590 

78,340,000 

11,772,884 

30,622,899 

5.002,000 

633,261,848 

$43,397,870 

1,525,007,500 

4,148,447 

79,328,859 

165,439,644 

216,944,382 

86,435,182 

13,977,444 

18,247,677 

9,491,214 

124,565,076 

101,111,070 

37,600,044 

71,930,625 

2487 

29 
39 
13 

501 

658 

24 

1501 

32 

15 

8 

115 
10 

142 
32 
27 

119 
34 

261 
1829 
74 
90 
5 
83 

4 

IS 

10 
19 
18 

5 
15 

1 
17 
19 
41    ' 

2 
19 

1 

7 

2 

7 

4 

2 

1 

6 

8 
25 

963 

16,763 

6,447 

4,802 

7,225S 

828 

3,167 

570 

52,636 

79,384 

91,002 

407 

4,713 

36,943 

18,790 

19,023 

1,491 

2,457 

1,410 

15,865 

7,112 

3,905 

5,936 

69,020 

£110,443 

2,002,073 

790,839 

535,819 

452,876 

71,113 

232,615 

94,678 

6,429,101 

8,897,608 

7,764,855 

30,217 

432,234 

1,003,793 

1,418,469 

1121879 
120,321 
163,245 

2,508,323 
635,706 
337,352 
679^476 

9,610,393 

£191  IdefioU) 

354,700 

186,654 

202,271 

84,602  [deficil] 

8,448  [deficit] 

24,521 

14,932 

750,250 

1,172,343 

2,610,028 

1£,582 

113,571 

15,906  [ci«/tct(] 
213,637 

2',595 

10,908  [deficit] 

60,030 

230,600  [deficit] 
336.269 

39,408 

49,833 
443,509 

TJie  crowning  improvement  in  postal  matters,  that  of 
an  international  transit  entirely  free,  is  merely  a  question 
of  time.  It  is  the  logical,  the  necessary  complement  of 
the  work  initiated  at  Paris  in  1863,  organized  at  Bern  in 
1874,  revised  and  methodized  again  at  Paris  in  1878. 
One  postal  territory,  one  code  of  postal  regulations,  one 
uniform  postal  tariif,  free  conveyance  between  nation  and 
nation,  will  be  the  outcome  of  this  important  movement. 

Comparing  the  postal  traffic  of  the  various  quarters  of 
the  globe  for  the  year  1 882  we  find  that  out  of  a  total  of 
8,280,000,000  articles  mailed  European  countries  claimed 
nearly,  two-thirds,  while  America  had  considerably  more 
than  one-fourth.    The  total  was  distributed  as  follows : — 

Australia... 73,000,000 

Africa      12,000,000 


Europe  6,624,000,000 

America 2,366,000,000 

Asia        205,000,000 


Bibliography.— In  addition  to  books  already  quoted  the  reader  may  consult 
K.  Loepcr,  SUimmhuch  dtr  ntuenn  VerkehrsmitM,  1881  ;  "  Die  Post  In  d.  Wclt- 
literatur,"  in  L'Union  I'ostale,  ix.  12-161,  1884;  and  "Din  Disinfection  dcr 
PoatentsendunKeu  als  Bchutzmassregel  gegen  die  Einschleppung  der  Cliolera," 
In  Archiv  /.  Post,  April,  1884.  See  also  J.  G.  Borel,  L'Europe  synopti<[U£  lUs 
Posits  et  dts  TiUgraphes,  1882  ;  JUcueil  da  Renseignements  sur  le  JUgime  postale  en 
vigueur  dans  le  Service  interne  des  Fays  de  VUnion  Poatale  Univer&elU. 

Postage  Stamps. 

For  all  practical  purposes  the  history  of  postage  stamps 
begins  in  the  United  Kingdom,  and  with  the  great  reform 
of  its  postal  system  in  1839-40.  A  post-paid  envelope 
was  in  common  use  in  Paris  in  the  year  1653.  Stamped 
postal  letter-paper  {carta  postale  hollata)  was  issued  to 
the  public  by  the  Government  of  the  Sardinian  states 
in  November  1818  (above,  p.  583),  and  stamped  postal 
envelopes  were  issued  by  the  same  Government  from 
1820  until  1836.''  Stamped  Wrappers  for  newspapers 
were  made  experimentally  in  London  by  Mr  Charles 
Whiting,  under  the  name  of  "go-frees,"  in  1830.  Four 
years  later  (June  1834),  and  in  ignorance  of  what  Mr 
Whiting  had  already  done,  the  stamp-office  authorities,  in 
a  letter  addressed  to  Lord  Althorp,  then  chancellor  of  the 

'  fitali.itii/iie  (jinirale.  du  Service poetid,  Bern,  1884. 

*  Tlio  number  on  1st  November  1882. 

*  Exclusive  of  French  and  rortugiicse  possesaions. 

*  Slamp-CoUeclor's  Maijazin^,  v.  161  aq.  ;  J.  E.  Otfy,  Illustrated 
Catalogue  of  Postage  Stamps,  6th  ed. ,  167. 


exchequer,  by  Mr  Charles  Knight,  recommended  similar 
wrappers  for  adoption.  Finally,  and  in  its  results  most 
important  of  all,  the  adhesive  stamp  was  made  experi- 
mentally by  Mr  James  Chalmers  in  his  printing-ofiBce  at 
Dundee  in  August  1834.^  These  experimental  stamps' 
were  printed  from  ordinary  type,  and  were  made  adhesive 
by  a  wash  of  gum.  Their  inventor  had  already  won  local 
distinction  in  matters  of  postal  reform  by  his  strenuous 
and  successful  efforts,  made  as  early  as  the  year  1822,  for 
the  acceleration  of  the  Scottish  mails  from  London.  Those 
efforts  resulted  in  a  saving  of  forty -eight  hours  on  the 
double  mail  journey,  and  were  highly  appreciated  in 
Scotland.  There  is  evidence  that  from  1822  onwards  his 
attention  was  much  directed  towards  postal  questions,  and 
that  he  held  correspondence  with  the  postal  reformers  of 
his  day,  both  in  and  out  of  parliament.  It  is  also  plain 
that  he  was  far  more  intent  upon  aiding  public  improve- 
ments than  upon  winning  credit  for  them.  He  made 
adhesive  stamps  in  1834,  and  showed  them  to  his  neigh- 
bours, but  took  no  step  for  publicly  recommending  their^ 
adoption  by  the  post-office  until  long  after  such  a  recom-^ 
mendation  had  been  published — although  very  hesitatingly, 
— by  the  author  of  the  now  famous  pamphlet,  entitled 
Post-Office  Refm-mS"  Mr  Hill  brought  the  adhesive  stanip 
under  the  notice  of  the  commissioners  of  post-office  inquiry 
on  13th  February  1837.  Mr  Chalmers  made  no  puUix. 
mention  of  his  stamp  of  1834  until  December  1837. 

Only  a  fortnight  before  his  examination  by  the  above^ 
named  commissioners  Mr  Hill,  in  his  letter  to  Lord  Jlont-i 
eagle  (then  Mr  Spring  Rice  and  chancellor  of  the  exchequer), 
seemed  to  have  no  thought  of  the  aMesive  stamp.  He 
recommended  to  the  treasury  that  "stamped  covers  and 
sheets  of  paper  be  supplied  to  the  public  from  the  stamp- 
office,  or  post-office,  .  .  .  and  sold  at  such  a  price  as  to 
include  the  postage.  .  .  .  Covers  at  various  prices  would 
be  required  for  packets  of  various  weights.  Each  should 
have  the  weight  it  is  entitled  to  carry  legibly  printed  with 
the  stamp.  .  .  .  Should  experience  warrant  the  Govern- 
ment in  making  the  use  of  stamped  covers  universal,^ 
most  important  advantages  would  bo  secured.  The  post- 
office  would  be  relieved  altogether  from  the  collection  of 
the  revenue."'  Then,  upon  suggestion,  it  would  seem,  of 
some  possible  difficulty  that  might  arise  from  the  occa- 
sional bringing  of  unstamped  letters  to  a  post-office  by 
persons  unable  to  write,  he  added  :  "Perhaps  this  difficulty 
might  be  obviated  by  using  a  bit  of  paper  just  large  enough 
to  boar  the  stamp,  and  covered  at  the  back  with  a  glutinous 
wash."  It  is  a  quite  fair  inference  that  this  alternative 
had  been  suggested  from  without.  In  reviewing  the  sub- 
ject,  long  afterwards,  in  his  History  of  Penny  Postage,  Sii* 
R.  Hill  says :  "  The  post-office  opinions  as  to  the  use  o£ 
stamps  for  .  .  .  prepayment,  were,  on  the  whole,  favourj 
able."  In  a  paper  of  1839,  entitled  On  the  Collection  of 
Postage  by  means  of  Stamps,  the  author  continued  to  look 
upon  "  stamped  covers  or  envelopes  as  the  means  which 
the  public  would  most  commonly  employ ;  still  believing 
that  the  adhesive  stamp  would  be  reserved  for  exceptional 

»  Patrick  Chalmers,  Sir  Rouiland  Hill  and  James  Chalmers, 
Inventor  of  the  Adhesive  Stamp  (London,  1882),  passim.  See  alto 
the  same  writer's  pampldet,  entitled  The  Position  of  Sir  Hmcland 
IliU  made  plain  (1882),  and  his  The  Adhesive.  Stamp:  a  Freeh 
dtapter  in  the  mstory  of  Post-Office  Reform  (1881).  Compare  >  J 
Pearson  Hilfs  tract,  A  Paper  on  Postage  Stamps,  lu  reply  Ifl  »U 
Chalmers,  reprintcil  from  the  PhilaUlic  Record  of  November  1881. 
Mr  UiU  has  therein  shown  conclusively  the  priority  of  pMicalwn 
by  Sir  Rowland  Hill.  Ho  has  also  given  pioof  of  Mr  James  Chalmci™  a 
express  ncknowle.ignient  of  that  priority.  Buf  he  has  not  weak.ne<) 
the  evidence  of  the  priority  of  inveK'.ian  by  Mr  Cholmers. 

»  AiniA  Report  of  Commissioners  of  Pi^st-Offiee  Inqmry,  18S7,  PPi 
32,  33,  reprinted  in  Sir  R.  Hill'a  " History M  Penny  Postage..  (i\/iy 
J:c.,ii.  270). 

'  I.e.,  by  prohibitinR  the  propayment  of  letters  In  jnouey, 

8  ^■intn  Jicjiort,  03  above. 


586 


POST-OFFICE 


[POSTAGE  STAMPS. 


cases."'  Slulready's  well-remembered  allegorical  cover 
came -into  use  on  1st  May  1840,  together  with  the  firsfc 
form  of  the  stamped  letter-pape^-,  and  the  adhesive  labels.^ 
They  all  met  at  first,  but  only  for  a  few  days,  with  a  large 
sale.  That  of  the  first  day  yielded  £2500.  Soon  after- 
wards the  public  rejection  of  the  "  Mulready  envelope," 
%vrites  Kowland  Hill,  "  was  so  complete  as  to  necessitate 
the  destruction  of  nearly  all  the  vast  number  prepared  for 
issue."  Whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  the  presses  of  the 
stamp-office  were  producing  more  than  half  a  million  of 
[adhesive]  labels,  by  working  both  night  and  day,  they 
yet  failed  to  meet  th3  demand."  ^  It  was  only  after  many 
weeks,  and  after  the  introduction  of  a  series  of  mechanical 
improvements  and  new  processes,  due  to  the  skill  and 
ingenuity,  in  part  of  Jlr  Edwin  Hill  of  the  stamp-office, 
in  part  of  Mr  Perkins,  an  engraver,  that  the  demand 
oould  be  effectually  answered.  To  find  an  obliterating 
ink  which  worked  effectually,  without  damaging  the  letters, 
was  alsa  a  special  difficulty. 

In  the  production  of  the  stamps  both  cheapness  and 
security  against  forgery  had  to  be  combined  "  The  queen's 
head  was  first  engraved  on  a  single  matrix,  the  eflSgy  being 
encompassed  with  lines  too  fine  for  any  .  .  .  but  the  most 
delicate  machinery  to  engrave.  The  matrix,  being  subse- 
quently hardened,  was  employed  to  produce  impressions 
on  a  soft  steel  roller  of  sufficient  circumference  to  receive 
twelve,  and  this,  being  hardened  in  turn,  was  used  under 
very  heavy  pressure  to  produce  and  repeat  its  counterpart 
on  a  steel  plate,"*  capable  of  working  off,  at  each  impres- 
sion, 240  stamps.  Engravers,  printers,  chemists,  and  arti- 
ficers of  several  kinds  had  to  combine  their  efforts  before 
the  desired  results  could  be  secured.  Long  afterwards 
(June  1856)  a  question  was  raised  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons as  to  an  alleged  preference  of  one  manufacturing  firm 
over  all  its  virtual  competitors  ^\■ithout  preliminary  inquiry 
or  actual  competition.  The  operation,  it  was  replied,  was 
confided  to  j\Iessrs  De  La  Rue  &  Co.,  because  they  "  had 
the  best  means  of  accomplishing  it  (i.e.,  the  production  of 
the  adhesive  stamp)  within  the  time  required.  No  public 
notice  calling  for  tenders  for  printing  and  gumming  was 
given  to  the  trade,  nor  is  there  any  trade  to  which  such 
notice  could  have  been  given,  the  operation  being  the 
making  of  the  stamps,  as  well  as  the  printing  and  gum- 
ming, and  that  operation  being  to  a  great  extent  experi- 
mental." 5  The  total  cost  of  the  manufacture  of  each  million 
of  stamps  was  £30,  Os.  lid.  (viz.,  paper,  £5, 1 4s;  5d. ;  print- 
ing and  gumming,  £22,  Is.  9d. ;  perforating,*  £1,  8s.  Id. ; 
salaries,  16s.  8d).  To  this  is  to  be  added  a  sum  of 
£45,  2s.  4d.  for  poundage  and  commission  upon  the  sale, 
making  in  all  £75,  3s.  3d.,  the  whole  of  which  forms  a 
deduction  from  the  produce  of  sale.  In  the  event  about 
three  thousand  millions  of  stamps  were  produced  from  the 
original  matrix.  At  the  end  of  fifteen  years  a  second 
matrix  was  obtained,  after  the  deepening  of  the  lines  by 
hand,  from  the  first.  From  1st  May  1840  up  to  the  end 
of  the  year  1884  more  than  thu-ty-one  thousand  three 
hundred  millions  of   postage  stamps  had   been  printed, 

'  "History  of  Penny  Postage"  (Life,  i.  345,  34§). 

-  "Considerable  diversion  was  created  in  the  city  to-day  [1st  May 
1840]  by  tlie  appearance  of  the  new  penny-post  devices  for  envelopes, 
half- sheet  letters,  and  bits  of  sticking-plaster  for  dabbing  on  to 
letters.  .  .  .  [The  elephants  on  the  Mulready  cover]  are  sym- 
bolic of  the  lightness  and  rapidity  with  which  Mr  Rowland  Hill's 
penny-post  is  tc  be  carried  on.  .  .  .  "Withal  the  citizens  are  rude 
enough  to  believe  that  these  graphic  embeUistments  will  not  go  down 
Bt  the  price-  of  Is.  3d.  per  dozen  for  the  envelopes,  .  .  .  and  of 
1  J.  Id.  per  dozen  for  the  .  .  .  sticking-plaster."  This  good-liumoured 
hAnter  is  from  the  money  article  of  ar  ■'mineut  daily  paper. 

'  Hill,  nt  supra,  p.  398.  ■*  Sir  R.  Hill,  oj}.  cit.,  p.  407.' 

°  Returns  relating  to  Stamped  Postal  Envelopes,  kc,  24th  July 
1856,  House  or  Commons'  Papers,  No.  392. 

•  This  item  only  after  the  yiar  1853. 


varying  in  value  from  £5  to  a  halfpenny, 
are  as  follows  (Table  XXIV.):- 


The  details 


84,000 

£1  

285,054 

10s. 

461,438 

•5s 

6,413,686 

2s.  eu 

789,884 

2s 

6,715,820 

Is 

225,378,060 

lOd 

5,963,476 

9d 

11,235,080 

8d 

4,608,720 

6d 

217,048,960 

5d 

26,413,680 

4d 

175,221,180 

3d 

223,381,000 

24d 

284,475,696 

2d 

385,171,080 

lJ.d 

105,603,360 

Id 

26,651,930,040 

id 

Total  number 

2,970,705,120 

31,301,885,334 

The  first  contract  for  the  ordinary  stamped  envelope, 
with  the  embossed  queen's  head,  was  entered  into  with 
Messrs  Dickinson  k  Longman  ofl"  22d  May  1840.  The 
average  cost  of  each  million  of  this  envelope  was  £376 ; 
of  which  sum  £359,  6s.  was  repaid  by  the  produce  of  its 
sale,  over  and  above  the  value  of  the  stamp,  leaving  a  nett 
deduction  from  the  aggregate  value  of  £16,  14s.  upon  each 
million  sold.''  In  November  1850  a  second  contract  was 
entered  into  with  Messrs  De  La  Rue  <fe  Co.,  the  contractors 
for  the  adhesive  stamp.  In  the  ten  years  1847  to  1856 
inclusive  the  aggregate  number  of  envelopes  manufactured 
and  sold  was  186,124,000.  Under  both  these  contracts 
the  outside  of  the  envelope  was  impressed  with  a  coloured 
embossed  device  in  the  place  of  a  seal.*  And  this  small 
device — the  cost  of  which  was  infinitesimal — whilst  it 
obviously  improved  the  appearance  of  the  envelope,  added 
still  more  to  its  security.  Of  late  years  the  device  has  been 
omitted,  and  the  security  of  letters  impaired  for  a  very 
contemptible  saving. 

The  little  canton  of  Zurich  was  the  first  foreign  state 
to  adopt  postage  stamps,  in  1843.  The  stamps  reached 
America  in  the  same  year,  being  introduced  by  the  Govern- 
ment of  Brazil.  That  of  the  LTnited  States  did  not  adopt 
them  until  1847 ;  but  a  tentative  issue  was  made  by  the 
post-office  of  New  York  in  1845.  An  adhesive  stamp  was 
also  issued  at  St  Louis  in  the  same  year,  and  in  Rhode 
Island  in  the  next.  In  Europe  the  Swiss  cantons  of 
Geneva  (1844)  and  of  Basel  (1845)  soon  followed  the  ex- 
ample set  by  Zurich.^  In  the  Russian  empire  the  use  of 
postage  stamps  became  general  in  1848  (after  preliminary 
issues  at  St  Petersburg  and  in  Finland  in  1845).  France 
issued  them  in  1849.i^     The  same  year  witnessed  their 

'  This  great  difference  of  the  deduction  from  the  postal  revenue 
accruing  from  the  nett  produce  of  stamped  envelopes  of  only  £16,  14s. 
upon  each  million  sold,  as  against  £75,  3s.  upon  each,  million  of  the 
•labels,  may  well  have  weighed  much  with  Sir  Rowland  Hill  in  his 
long  preference  for  stamped  covers  to  adhesive  labels.  If  the  23,415 
millions  of  adhesives  sold  up  to  1879  could  have  been  sold  in  the 
form  of  envelopes  the  gain  to  the  revenue  would  have  been  more  than 
£1,358,070.     Besides,  the  security  of  the  cover  is  gi-eater. 

^  Jicium,  kc,  as  above  (Sessional  Paper  of  1856,  No.  392,  p."8). 

'  On  the  whole,  within  the  course  of  seven  years  the  postage  stamp 
was  adopted  in  three  Swiss  "cantons,  throughout  the  United  States, 
in  Russia,  and  in  Brazil.  So  curiously  inexact  is  the  statement  which 
appears  in  Mr  Lewin's  volume  —  one  in  many  respects  of  eminent 
ability — entitled  Her  Majesty's  Mails,  p.  261  :  "  For  eight  long  years 
the  English  people  may  be  said  to  have  enjoyed  a  conrplete  monopoly 
in  postage  stamps."  It  is  still  more  curious  to  observe  in  Sir  Rowland 
Hill's  own  "History  of  Penny  Postage"  [Life,  kc,  ii.  13)  this 
passage:  "It  is  remarkable  .  .  .  that  the  first  countries  to  adopt 
the  improvement — Spain  and  Russia — should  be  two  so  far  from  taking 
a  general  lead  in  civilization."  if 

^^  The  date  of  the  law  .authorizing  the  introduction  is  30th  August  i 
'  /  i48.     It  became  operative  on  1st  January  1849. 


Intrc 
d'.ict  • 
of  pc 
age 
stani 


POST-OFFICE 


587 


introduction  into  Tuscany,  Belgium,  and  Bavaria,  and  also 
into  New  South  Wales.  Austria,  Prussia,  Saxony,  Spain, 
Italy,  follou-od  in  1850.  The  use  of  postage  stamps  seems 
tq  have  extended  to  the  Sandwich  Islands  (1851  ?)  a  year 
before  it  reached  the  Dutch  Netherlands  (1852).  Within 
twenty-five  years  of  the  fir^t  issue  of  a  postage  stamp  in 
London,  the  known  varieties,  issued  in  all  parts  of  the 
world,  amounted  to  1391.  Of  these  841  were  of  European 
origin,  333  were  American,  59  Asiatic,  55  African.  The 
varieties  of  stamp  issued  in  the  several  countries  of  Oceania 
were  103.  Of  the  whole  1391  stamps  no  less  than  811 
were  already  obsolete  in  1865,  leaving  580  still  in  currency. 
It  was  not  until  1853  that  the  admirable  improvement 
of  perforating  the  stamp-sheets  ".vas  introduced  by  the 
purchase  for  £4000  (pursuant  to  the  recommendation  of 
a  select  committee  of  the  House  of  Commons  of  1852)  of 
a  perforating  machine  invented  by  Mr  Henry  Archer. 
Other  improvements  of  value  have  also  been  made  in  the 
•  (cce-  obliterating  process.  The  defacement  mark  now  serves  to 
^ont  show  the  official  consecutive  numbers  of  the  town  in  which 
'"'"■  each  particular  letter  was  posted.  For  England  that  num- 
ber appeare  within  circular  lines ;  for  Scotland,  between 
parallel  lines ;  for  Ireland,  it  appears  diamond-wise.  The 
general  post-office  mark  also  denotes  the  hour  of  posting. 
The  metropolitan  district  marks  indicate  the  office  number 
within  oval  lines  under  the  initials  of  each  district.  Paper 
for  the  embossed  stamps  of  all  the  recognized  values  is 
received  by  the  Board  of  Inland  Revenue  from  all  persons 
who  offer  it,  under  favourable  regulations. 

Tlie  collection  and  sale  of  specimen  postage  stamps  as  a  branch 
of  commerce  has  already  attained  dimensions   little  anticipated 
by  those  who  watched  the  origin  of  the  new  pursuit,  as  a  sort  of 
toy  for  cliildrcn,  some  quarter  of  a  century  ago.     Before  stamp- 
coilectioa  became  conspicuous  commercially,  it  came  to  have  a 
recognized  educational  value,  in  its  degree,  as  an  amusing  aid  to 
the  early  knowledge  of  geography,  more  especially  in  the  pohtical 
aspect, 
'ostage        When  the  legislation  of  August  1848  directed  the  introduction 
tamps     of  postage  stamps  into  France  the  first  endeavour  of  the  postal 
I  administration  vraa  to  make  a  contract  for  their  manufacture  in 

"rtnca,  Enf<land.  But  the  terms  proposed  were  thought  to  be  too  high.  A 
contract  was  then  made  with  M.  Hulot  of  the  Paris  mint,  and  the 
die  approved  of  was  engraved  by  M.  Barre,  also  of  that  establish- 
ment. JI.  Hiilot  became  "director  of  the  manufacture  of  postage 
stamps,"  and  under  the  early  contracts  was  allowed',  in  lieu  of 
salary,  one  franc  (lOd.)  on  each  thousand  stamps  for  the  first 
two  hundred  millions,  9d.  per  thousand  for  the  next  two  hundred 
millions,  and  8d.  per  thousand  for  all  above.  In  1869  these  terms 
weie  reduced  to  6d.  per  thousand  upon  the  first  five  hundred 
millions,  and  5d.  upon  all  above.'  The  cost  of  mere  manufacture 
was  slightly  below  that  of  the  stamps  of  the  United  Kingdom, 
each  million  being  estimated  to  cost  about  £25,  10s.,  of  which 
sura  paper,  printiug,  and  gumming  absorbed  somewhat  more 
than  £20.  > 

During  the  war,  in  Kovcmber  1870,  a  contract  was  entered  into 
between  the  Provisional  Government  and.  a  M.  Delebecque  and 
others  for  the  manufactuio  of  postage  stamps  at  Bordeaux.  The 
contractor  bound  himself  to  deliver,  after  a  day  determined,  4000 
sheets  of  stamps  daily,  each  containing  300  staniffe,  at  the  price  of 
3d.  for  each  sheet.  The  stamps  were  to  bo  of  the  several  values  of 
Sd.,  4d.,  8d.,  2d.,  Id.,  Jd.,  and  of  one,  two,  three,  and  four  centimes 
respectively,  in  such  proportions  as  the  post-office  should  direct. 
The  first  plate  which  was-  sent  to  the  press  was  made  from  a 
matrix  drawn  with  the  pen  ;  afterwards  lithographic  processes  were 
employed.  The  post-office  suspended  the  contract  by  notice  iu 
Uarcb  1871,  but  was  immediately  obliged  by  the  communal  insur- 
rection to  license  its  continuance,  and  the  manufactin-o  was  resumed 
at  Bordeaux  until  June.  0:i  the  whole,  125,387,075  postage  stamjjs 
were  produced  from  the  presses  at  Bordeau.\.' 

The  first  postage  stamp  used  in  Germany  was  issued  in  the  king- 
dom of  Bavaria  in  1849.  It  is  of  quite  inartistic  character,  though 
origuiating  in  a  state  so  famous  for  its  cultivation  of  the  plastic 
arts.  Tlio  earliest  type  shows  with  the  name  of  the  country  only 
the  postal  tariff.  None  of  the  many  subsequent  varieties  displays 
the  royal  effigy  ;  oven  the  embossed  royal  arms  were  not  used  until 

'  Onlinanoes  of  the  niiiuster  of  linanco,  30tli  January  1860  and  30th 
lanuEiy  1869  reupuotivcly,  as  cited  in  Kothschild,  JJisl.  de  la  Paste- 
oujc- Ldlns,  u.  130-133. 

'  Hothscliild,  ii.  125.  »  aid.,  ii.  202. 


1868.  Stamps  made  specially  for  the  use  of  the  army  bear  th« 
figure  sometimes  of  a  Bavarian  trooper,  sometimes  of  an  infantry- 
man or  artiller)'man.  The  earliest  Prussian  stamp  is  of  November 
1850,  and  bears  the  effigy— laurcated — of  King  William,  in  filigree, 
to  which  in  1861  succeeded  the  Prussian  eagle.  Theducliyof  Anhalt 
and  several  petty  principalities  placed  themselves  under  its  \ving 
by  adopting  almost  from  the  outset  the  Prussian  stamp.  Three 
weeks  after  its  first  appearance  in  Prussia,  Hanover  (December 
1850)  issued  a  stamp  bearing  the  name  of  the  kingdom  with  th» 
royal  arrae.  The  first  stamp  having  the  royal  effigy  is  an  euvelop» 
of  1857.  The  effigy  appears  first  upon  adhesive  stamps  in  1859. 
The  earliest  Saxon  type  (1850)  shows  merely  the  postjil  tariff,  but 
the  second,  of  the  same  year,  bears  the  king's  head.  The  first 
Baden  stamp  resembles  that  of  Saxony.  The  head  of  the  grand- 
duke  appears  upon  an  envelope  of  October  1858.  From  1860  the 
adhesives  bear  the  arms  of  the  duchy.  "Within  the  Tlmrn  and 
Taxis  d'strict  stamps  were  first  used  in  1852,  and  they  continued 
until  1866  The  earliest  stamp  of  Schleswig-Holstein  is  that  of  an 
insurrectional  Government  patronized  by  Prussia  and  bears  the 
national  arms.  The  insignia  of  Denmark  take  their  place  in  1854 
and  continue  until  1864.  In  that  year  separate  stamps  ar.pear  fop 
Schleswig  and  for  Holstein,  to  be  succeeded  for  a  short  time  by  a 
common  one  in  1865. 

In  January  1868  the  postage  stamps  of  Prussia,  Hanover, 
Saxony,  Oldenburg,  of  the  two  Mecklenburgs,  of  Brunswick,  of 
Schleswig-Holstein,  and  of  the  free  cities  of  Bremen,  Hambu'-g,  and 
Liibeck  virtually  disappear  and  are  replaced  by  the  new  stamp 
of  the  Korth  German  Confederation.  For  a  whOe  the  postage 
envelopes  of  such  of  those  states  as  had  issued  any  contiuued  to 
appear,  but  with  the  significant  super-addition  of  the  confederation 
stamp.  That,  in  its  turn,  after  a  currency  of  nearly  four  years, 
made  room  (15th  December  1871)  for  the  imperial  stamp  of  the 
new  Germany.  The  grand-duke  of  Baden  presently  adopted  it. 
Only  Bavaria  and  Wiirtemberg  retain  their  special  postage  stamps 
and  their  separate  administration.  Ceitain  tariff  stamps,  how- 
ever, for  merely  fiscal  purposes  continue  to  be  used  in  Saxony, 
Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  Brunswick,  Oldenburg,  Hesse,  Mecklenbui-g. 
Schwerin,  Schaumburg-Lippe,  Schwarzburg-Sondershausen,  and 
in  the  city  of  Bremen.* 

This  brief  review  of  ateiic  phenomena  in  Germany  alone — the 
limits  of  this  article  make  it  impossible  to  give  similar  details  for, 
the  rest  of  Europe — may  suffice  to  show  tliat  the  pretension  of 
stamp-collectors  to  illustrate,  in  degree,  the  course  and  currents  of 
political  geography  has  its  justification  in  fact. 

The  earliest  postage  stamps  of  Austria-Hungary  date  from  1850,  In  An* 
and  tUsplay  the  imperial  arms.    It  is  only  iu  1858  that  the  emperor's 'rm- 
head   takes  their  pkce.     In   1863  and   1864  the  armorial   cagle"""***^ 
reapppars,  followed  again  and  continuously,  as  regards  adhesive 
stamps,  by  the  imperial  effigy.     The  stamped  wrappers  for  news- 
papers and  books  bear  sometimes  a  figure  of  Mercury,  sometimes 
the  double-headed  eagle.     Stamped  envelopes  were  first  issued  in 
1S61  ;  they  bear,  indiSerently,  the  imperial  effiey  or  the  armorial 
eagle.     The  imperial  stamps  are   adopted  in  the  principality  ot 
Liechtenstein.     The  special  stamps  for  Hungary  bear  date  from 
1868.     The  postal  card  is  of  Austrian  origin,  and  was  first  issuod 
in  August  1869.     Taking  all  kinds  of  postal  stamps  together,  the 
aggregate  number  of  types  (39)  and  of  varieties  (123)  issued  through- 
out the  empire  from  1850  amounted  in  1883  to  162.' 

In  the  Russian  empire  the  province  of  Finland  takes  the  initia-  )n  ;■•  '.n 
tive.  As  early  as  1845  its  lion  within  a  crowned  escutcheon  appears  sifc 
upon  a  postal  envelojw.  Its  adhesive  stamps  (1856)  date  a  few 
months  carUer  than  the  earliest  formalized  issue  for  the  empire 
generally  (1857).  These  Finnish  stamps  are  of  similar  tyjio  to  the 
envelopes,  but  they  continue  to  bear  the  arms  of  the  province 
only  until  1860.  The  Ru.ssian  stamps  bear  the  imperial  eagle  and 
tlie  imperial  crown  ;  but  none  of  them  bears  the  head  of  the  omi>cror. 
For  a  short  time  (1858-1864)  unhappy  Poland  hiis  the  ai)pearanee 
— it  is  little  more — of  a  certain  dillercutiation  iu  the  stamps  ibsued 
at  Warsaw  from  those  of  the  empire  at  large.  But  early  in  1866 
these  slight  peculiarities  disappear,  along  with  the  local  postal 
administration  of  Warsaw.  All  the  Polish  stomps  are  now  obsolete, 
and  have  becu  superseded  by  those  of  the  Russian  empii-c.«  tlany 
other  local  posts,  however,  survive  in  all  parts  of  the  empire ; 
and  their  stamps  have  jieculiaritics  which  are  eminently  curious. 
Some  bear  tho  arms,  as  in  the  case  of  Finland,  of  a  province  or  of 
a  groat  town.  Others,  and  the  greater  jiart,  bear  symbohc  and 
curious  emblems  :  at  Kherson,  a  wheatsheaf,  a  scythe,  and  a  r»ko  i 
at  Elizabcthgrad,  an  open  book,  sheaves,  a  scythe,  and  a  plume  or 
feathers  interlaced  ;  at  Tamboff,  a  bcchivo ;  at  Bogorodsk,  Saint 
George  on  horseback.  Tho  varieties  of  Russian  local  stumps  are 
so  great,  and  somo  of  them  so  scarce,  as  to  cause  to  tho  ardent 

*  BiilMin  t!c  la  SocUti  fraiifaUe  de  Timbrologie,  1876,  No.  1  ;l 
RothschilJ,  0/).  cil.,  pp.  251-206. 

'  Cray,  Tltuslrakd  Catalogue  of  Postage  Slamjis,  ClU  c'll.,  pp.  I-tf 
and  79-82;  Rothschild,  xU  supra. 

'  Gray,  IlluMrat-d  d^'ahgue,  Cth  ed.,  p.  167, 


58S 


P  O  T  — P  O  T 


'ollector  many  aTieartachc.  M.  Koprowsl^i  has  of  late  come  to  his 
Bolace  by  aevotipg  a  volume  to  their  history.  Stamp -coUectmg 
l-as  for  some  years  past  possessed  a  literature  large  enough  to  fall  a 
i'e.spectable  bookcase  ;.  it  bids  fair  ere  long  to  need  a  large  library 
for  its  storage.  Of  Russian  stamps,  general  and  local  together.- 
the  total  number  of  types  exceeded  135  up  to  the  year  lfc75.  ^ 

The  table  (XXV.)  which  follows  will  give  the  reader  thechrono^ 
logical  sequence  of  postage-stamps  in  all  parts  of  the  world. 


Tear. 


Year. 

Countries^ 

Year. 
1852 

1853 
1854 
1855 

1856 
1857 

1858 

Countries. 

1810 
1843 
1844 
1B45 

1846 
,1847 
184S 
1649 

1850 
1831 

United  Kingaoiii.i 

Ziuich,  Brazil. 

Geneva.                                         ' 

Basel, St  Petersburg(e)cpernnen- 
tal).  Finlacid  (envelopes).  New 
Yorkl  (tentatively),  St  Louis 

Rhode  Island. 

United  States,  SIauritiii3(T).2      1 

Russia  (euvelopes).3                     , 

France,  Belgium,  Bavaria, 
Vaud,  Winterthur,  Tuscany,* 
New  South  Wales. 

Austrian  empire,  Italy,  Prussia, 
Saxony,  Schleswig-Holst«in, 
Spain,  Switzerland,  Hanover, 
Baden  (!),  British  Guiana  (?), 
Victoria  (7).5 

Baden,  WurtemberK,  Denmark, 
Oldenburg,  Cauada,  Trinidad, 
Chili,6  Sind  (tentatively),' 
SandOTch  Islands  (I). 

Roman  States,  Parma,  Modena, 
Brunswick,  Thurn  and  Taxis 
post -district,  Netherlands, 
Luxemburg,  Isle  of  Reunion. 

Portugal,  (Jape  of  Good  Hope, 
Tasmania. 

Norway,  British  India,  Philip- 
pines, West  Australia. 

Sweden,  Bremen,  Cuba,  Porto 
Rico,  South  Australia,  New 
Zealand. 

Mecklenburg -Schwerin,  Fin- 
land (atlhesives),  Uruguay. 

Lubeck(?),8  Ionian  Isles,  Rou- 
mania,  Russia  (adhesive 
stamps),  Mexico,  New  Bruns- 
wick,  Newfoundland,  Ceylon, 
St  Helena,  Natal. 

Naples,  Poland,  Moldaria, 
Nova  Scotia,  Buenos  Ayres, 
Argentine,  Peru.9 

1859 
1860 
1861 
1862 


1863 
1S64 


Countries.' 


■v 


Sicily,  Romagna,  Hamburg,  St 
Lucia,  Bahamas,  New^Gran- 
ada,  Venezuela.    . 

Poland,  Malta,  Jamaica,  Prince 
Edwardlsland, Dutch  West  In- 
dies, Liberia,  New  Caledonia. 

Greece,  Bergedorf,  British  Col- 
umbia, St  Vincent,  Nevis, 
Sierra  Leone,  Queensland. 

Roumania,  Livonia,  San  Do- 
mingo, Antigua,  Nioaragua, 
Costa  Rica,  United  States  of 
Colombia. 

Turkey,  Turk's  Islands. 

Mecklenburg-Strelitz,     Dutch 

East  Indies- 
Vancouver,  Bermuda,  Egypt.^o 


1868 

1869 
1870 
1871 
1872 
1873 

1874 

1875 


Countries. 


Servia,^      Honduras,       Virgin 

Islands,  Shanghai,  Eashmir, 

Deccan,  Sarawak. 
Heligoland,  St  Salvador,  GuiQ- 

alajara,      Bolivia,      Malacca. 

South  African  Republic 
Azores,  Madeira,  Orange  River, 

Fernando  Po. 
Gambia,  St  Thomas,  Angola. 
St  Christopher,  Paraguay. 
Guatemala,  Japan. 
Portuguese  Indies,  Persia,  Fiji. 
Iceland,  Dutch  Guiana,  Cura- 

eoa,  Cabul. 
Montenegro,  Dominica,  LAgos 

(Gold  Coasti 
Punjab. 


The  extent  of  the  commercial  traffic  which.has  so  rapidly  grown 
out  of  the  increasing  taste  for  collecting  postage  stamps  is  marked 
(sntfieiently  for  our  puiposes)  by  a  record  of  three  facts:  (1)  the 
aggregate  number  of  manuals,  periodicals,  and  current  catalogues 
relating  thereto,  in  English,  French,  and  German  alone,  exceedsi 
seventy ;  (2)  for  a  collection  of  postage  stamps,  made  by  Sir  Danifil 
Cooper  (of  Australia)  between  1862  and  1S78,  £.3000  sterling  was 
given  in  the  last-named  year  by  M.  Philippe  de  Ferrari ;  (3)  the 
Galliera  collection  at  Paris  is  said,  upon  credible  authority,  to  hava^ 
cost,  up  to  1883,  in  acquisition  and  arrangement  together  no  less'a 
sum  than  £57,600  (1, 440,000  francs).  Next  to  these  two  collections 
ranks  that  of  JL  A.  de  Rothschild. "  (E.'  ED.) 


POTASSIUM  METALS.  Under -this  heading  we 
treat  of  potassium,  rubidium,  and  caesium ;  Sodium  afid 
Lithium,  being  less  closely  allied  to  potassium,  have 
special  articles  devoted  to  them. 

Potassium. — The  three  metals  under  consideration  are  all 
very  widely  diffused  throughout  nature ;  but  only  potassium 
is  at  all  abundant,  and  therefore  we  begin  with  it._  The 
richest  natural  store  is  in  the  ocean,  which,  according  to 
Boguslawski's  calculation  (in  his  Oceanographie)  of  its 
total  volume  and  the  present  vrriter's  analysis  of  sea  water, 
contains  potassium  equal  to  1 141  times  10*2  tons  of  sulphate, 
KjSO^.  This  ine-^diaustible  store,  however,  is  not  much 
drawn  upon  at  present ;  the  "  salt-gardens  "  on  the  coast  of 
France  have  lost  their  industrial  importance  as  potash-pro- 
ducers, if  not  otherwise,  since  the  rich  deposits  at  Stassfurt 
in  Germany  have  come  to  be  so  largely  worked.  These 
deposits,  in  addition  to  common  salt,  include  the  following 
minerals: — sylvine,  KCl ;  carnallite,  KCl.MgClj-l-eHjO 
(transparent  deliquescent  crystals,  often  red  with  diffused 
oxide  of  iron);  kainite,  K„S04.MgSO,.MgClo-t-6H20  (hard 
crystalline  masses,  permanent  in  tne  air) ;  kieserite  (^ 
^ydrated  sulphate  of  magnesia  which  is  only  very  slowly 
dissolved  by  water) ;  besides  boracite,  anhydrite  (CaSO^), 
and  other  minor  components  lying  outside  the  subject 
of  this  article'.  The  potassium  minerals  named  are  not 
confined  to  Stassfurt ;  far  larger  quantities  of  sylvine  and 
kainite  are  met  with  in  the  salt-mines  of  Kalusz  in  the 
eastern  Carpathian  Mountains,  but  they  have  not  yet  come 
to  be  worked  so  e.ttensively.  The  Stassfurt  potassiferous 
minerals  owe  their  industrial  importance  to  their  solu- 
bility in  water  and  consequent  ready  amenability  to 
chemical  operations.  In  point  of  absolute  mass  they  are 
insignificant  compared  with  the  abundance  and  variety  of 
potassiferous  silicates,  which  occur  everywhere  in  the  earth's 
qrust ;  orthoclase  (potash  felspar)  and  potash  mica  may  be 
quoted  as  prominent  examples.    Such  potassiferous  silicates 

^  A  provisional  issue  by  the  post-office  prior  to  legislation. 

^  According  to  Gray,  1852 ;  according  to  Earle  {Stamp-Collector's 
»lag.,  x\.  168  sq.),  1850. 

'  Embossed  arms,  crown,  and  post-horns  on  a  circular  oish^. 

*  According  to  Gray,  1849  {Cat.,  6th  ed.);  according  to  both~Earle 
Stamp-Collector's  Mag.,  xi.  168)  and  A.  de  Rothschild  {Eist..de  la 
Paste,  ii.  208),  1876. 

=  According  to  De  Rothschild  {it>.,  215),  1851.  - 

«  Rothschild's  date  is  1852  (p.  218).  '  By  Sir  Bartle  Frere. 

'  Both  Gray  and  Rothschild  date  1859  Earle  {ut  supra)  describes 
»  Liibeck  stamp  of  1S47  »  RothacUikl's  date  is  1857. 


are  found  in  almost  all  rocks,  if  not  as  normal  at  l^ast  as 
subsidiary  components ;  and  their  disintegration  furnishes, 
directly  or  indirectly,  the  soluble  potassium  salts  which 
are  found  in  all  fertile  soils.  These  salts  are  sucked  up 
by  the  roots  of  plants,  and  by  taking  part  in  the  process 
of  nutrition  are  partly  converted  into  oxalate,  tartrate, 
and  other  orgaidc  salts,  which,  when  the  plai>ts  are  burned, 
assume  the  form  of  carbonate,  KoCOj.  It  is  a  remarkable 
fact  that,  although  in  a  given  soil  the  soda  may  pre- 
dominate largely  over  the  potash  salts,  the  plants  growing 
in  the  soil  take  up  the  latter  by  preference  :  in  the  ashe» 
of  most  land  plants  the  potash  (calculated  as  K^O)  forms 
upwards  of  90  per  cent,  of  the  total  alkali  (KjO  or  NajO).*^ 
The  proposition  holds,  in  its  general  sense,  for  sea  plants 
likewise.  In  ocean  water  the  ratio  of  soda  (Na^O)  to  pota.sb 
(KjO)  is  100  :  3-23  (Dittmar)  ;  in  kelp  it  is^  on  the  average, 
100  :  5'26  (Richardson).  Ashes  particularly  rich  in  pota.sh 
are  those  of  burning  nettles,  wormwood  {Artemisia  Absin,- 
thium),  tansy  {Tanacetnm  imlgare),  fumitory '  {Fumaria, 
officinalis),  tobacco.  In  fact  the  ashes  of  herbs  generally 
are  richer  in  potash  than  those  of  the  trunks  and  branches 
of  trees ;  yet,  for  obvious  reasons,  the  latter  are  of  greater 
industrial  Importance  as  sources  of  rarbonate  of  potash. 

Carboiiate  of  Potash  (KjCOg)  in  former  times  used  to 
be  made  exclusively  from  wood-ashes,  and  even  now  thft 
industry  survives  in  Canada,  Russia,  Hungary,  and  othef 
countries,  where  wood  is  used  as  the  general  fuel.  la 
some  places — for  instance,  in  certain  districts  of  Hungary — • 
wood  is  burned  expressly  for  the  purpose ;  as  a  rule.'how- 
ever,  the  ashes  produced  in  households  form)  the  raw 
material.  The  ashes  are  lixiviated  with  wateT,  whicU 
dissolves  all  the  carbonate  of  potash  along  with  more  or 
less  of  chloride,  sulphate,  and  a  little  silicate,  while  the 
earthy  phosphates  and  carbonates  and  other  ins.oluble 
matters  remain  as  a  residue.  The  clarified  5olution  is 
evaporated  to  dryness  in  iron  basins  and  the  residue  call 
cined  to  burn  away  particles  of  charcoal  and  half-burrred 
organic  matter.  In  former  times  this  calcination  used  to  be 
effected  in  iron  pots,  whence  the  name  "  potashes ",  was 
given  to  the  product;  at  present  it  is  generally  conducted 
in  reverberatory  furnaces  on  soles  of  cast-iron.  The  cal- 
cined product  goes  into  commerce  as  crude  potashes'.    The 

'»  Gray  (6th  ed.,  .p.  258).     Both  Rothschild  and  Earle  give  the  data 
as  1866.  ■>'  See  Stamp-Collector's  Magazine,  1875, 

^  Compare  the  interesting  paper  by  C.  Bischoff  in  the  JourK,  f 
Pract.  Chem.    vol.  xlni.  v.  193  (1849V 


POTASSIUM 


589 


t-omposition  of  this  substance  Is  very  variable, — tlie  per- 
centage of  real  KjCO,  varying  from  40  to  80  per  cent. 
The  following  analysis  of  an  American  "potashes"  is 
quoted  as  an  example. 


Carbouate  of  potash    ...71"4 

,,  soda   2'3 

Snliiliate  of  potash 14'4 

Chloride  of  potassmm...  3/6 


Water  4-5 

Insoluble  matter    27 

98-9 


Crude  potashes  is  used  for  the  manufacture  of  glass,  and 
after  being  causticized  for  the  making  of  soft  soap.  For 
many  other  purposes  it  is  too  impure  and  must  be  refined, 
which  is  done  by.treating  the  crude  product  with  the  raini- 
mom  of  cold  water  required  to  dissolve  the  carbonate, 
removing  the  undissolved  part  (which  consists  chiefly  of 
.-iujphate),  and  evaporating  the  clear  liquor  to  dryness  in 
an'iron  pan.  The  purified  carbonate  (which  still  contains 
most  of  the  chloride  of  the  raw  material  and  other  im- 
purities) is  known  as  "  pearl  ashes."- 

Large  quantities  of  carbonate  used  to  be  manufactured 
from  the  aqueous  residue  left  in  the  distillation  of  beetroot 
spirit,  i.e.,  indirectly  from  beetroot  molasses.  The  liquors 
are  evaporated  to  dryness  and  the  residue  is  ignited  to 
obtain  a  very  impure  carbonate,  which  is  purified  by 
methods  founded  on  the  difTerent  solubilities  of  the  several 
components.  Such  potashes,  however,  is  exceptionaUy 
rich  in  soda:  Grandeau  found  in  crude  ashes  from  16  to 
21  per  cent,  of  potash  and  from  23  to  50  of  soda  carbonate. 
This  industry  would  have  e.xpired  by  this  time  were  it 
not  that  the  beetroot  spirit  residues  are  worked  for  tri- 
methylamine  (see  Methyl,  vol.  xvi.  p.  196),  and  the 
carbonate  thus  obtained  incidentally.  Most  of  the  car- 
lx)nate  of  potash  which  now  occurs  in  commerce  is  made 
from  Stassfurt  chloride  by  means  of  an  adaptation  of  the 
'■'  Leblanc  process  "  for  the  conversion  of  common  salt  into 
soda  ash  (see  Sodium). 

Chemically  pure  carbonate  of  potash  is  best  prepared 
by  the  ignition  of  pure  bicarbonate  (see  below)  in  iron  or 
(better)  in  silver  or  platinum  vessels,  or  else  by  the  calcina- 
tion of  pure  bitartrate  (see  Tartaric  Acid).  The  latter 
opeiution  furnishes  an  intimate  mixture  of  the  carbonate 
with  charcoal,  from  which  the  carbonate  is  extracted  by 
lixiviation  with  water  and  filtration.  The  filtrate  is 
evaporated  to  dryness  (in  iron  or  platinum)  and  the  residue 
fully  dehydrated  by  gentle  ignition.  The  salt  is  thus 
obtained  as  a  white  porous  mQ,ss,  fusible  at  a  red  heat 
(838°  C,  Camellcy)  into  a  colourless  liquid,  which  freezes 
ioto  a  white  opaque  mass.  The  dry  salt  i.=  very  hygro- 
scopio;  it  deliquesces  into  an  oily  solution  ("oleum  tar- 
tari  ")  in  ordinary  air.     100  parts  of  water  dissolve — 

at  0"  C.  20'  C.  135°  C.  Cboiling  point 

of  saturated  solution) 


83 


94 


205 


parts.  Carbonate  of  potash,  being  insoluble  in  strong  alco- 
hol (and  many  other  liquid  organic  compounds),  is  much 
used  for  the  dehydration  of  the  corresponding  aqueous  pre- 
jiarations.  From  its  very  concentrated  solution  in  hot 
water  the  salt  crystallizes  on  cooling  with  a  certain  pro- 
portion of  water ;  but  these  crystals  are  little  knovra  even 
to  chemists.  Pure  carbonate  of  potash  is  being  constantly 
used  in  the  laboratory,  as  a  basic  substance  generally,  for 
the  disintegration  of  silicates,  and  as  a  precipitant.  The 
industrial  preparation  serves  for, the  making  of  flint-glass, 
of  potash  soap  (soft  soap),  and  of  caustic  potash.  It  is 
also  used  in  medicine,  where  'its  old  name  of  "  sal  tartari  " 
is  not  yet  quite  Obsolete. 

Bicarbonate  of  Potash  (K20C02-)-H20CO.^  =  2KHCO3) 
is  obtained  when  carbonic  acid  is  passed  through  a  cold 
solution  of  the  ordinary  carbonate  as  long  as  it  is  absorbed. 
If  silicate  is  present,  it  likewise  is  converted  into  bicar- 
bonate with  elimination  of  silica,  which  must  be  fiJtered 


ofT.  The  filtrate  is  evajwrated  at  a  temjierature  not 
exceeding  60"  or  at  most  70°  C. ;  after  suftieient  concen- 
tration it  deposits  on  cooling  anhydrous  crystals  of  the 
salt,  while  the  chloride  of  potassium,  which  may  be  present 
as  an  impurity,  remains  mostly  in  the  mother-liquor ;  the 
rest  is  easily  removed  by  repeated  recrystallization.  If 
an  absolutely  pure  preparation  is  wanted,  it  is  best  to 
follow  Wiihler  and  start  with  the  "  black  flux  "  produced 
by  the  ignition  of  pure  bitartrate.  The  flux  is  moistened 
with  water  and  exposed  to  a  current  of  carbonic  acid,  which, 
on  account  of  the  condensing  action  of  the  charcoal,  is 
absorbed  with  great  avidity.  The  rest  excriains  itself. 
Bicarbonate  of  potash  forms  large  monoclinic  prisms, 
permanent  in  the  air.  ■.  100  parts  of  water  dissolve — 


at     0' 
19-61 


ID' 
23-23 


20" 
26-91 


CO- 
41-35 


70' 
45-24 


parts  of  salt.  At  higher  temperatures  than  70°  the  solu- 
tion loses  carbonic  acid  quickly.  The  solution  is  far  less 
violently  alkaline  to  the  taste  and  test-papers  than  that  of 
the  normal  carbonate.  Hence  it  is  preferred  in  medicine 
as  an  anti-acid.  When  the  dry  salt  is  treated  it  breaks 
up  below  redness  into  normal  carbonate,  carbonic  acid,' 
and  water. 

Caustic  Potaih  {Hydrate  of  Potassium),  KHO. — It  has 
been  known  for  a  long  time  that  a  solution  of  carbonate  of 
potash  becomes  more  intensely  alkaline,  acts  more  strongly 
on  the  epidermis,  and  dissolves  fats  more  promptly  after  it 
has  been  treated  with  slaked  lime.  It  used  to  be  supposed 
that  the  latent  fire  in  the  quick-lime  went  into  the  "  mild  " 
alkali  and  made  it  "caustic,"  until  Black,  about  the 
middle  of  last  century,  showed  that  the  chemical  ditFerence 
between  the  two  preparations  is  that  the  mild  is  a  com- 
pound of  carbonic  acid  and  the  caustic  one  of  water  witt 
the  same  base  (potash), — the  causticizing  action  of  the  lime 
consisting  in  this,  that  it  withdraws  the  carbonic  acid  from 
the  alkali  and  substitutes  its  own  water.  Add  to  this 
that  the  exchange  takes  place  only  in  the  presence  of  a 
sufficient  proportion  of  water,  and  that  it  is  undone  if  the 
mixture  is  allowed  to  get  concentrated  by  evaporation 
beyond  a  certain  (uncertain)  point,  and  you  have  a  full 
theory  of  the  process.  A  good  concentration  is  twelve 
parts  of  water  for  one  of  carbonate  of  potash ;  the 
lime  is  best  employed  in  the  shape  of  a  semi-fluid  paste, 
made  by  slaking  quick-lime  with  three  parts  of  water 
poured  on  at  a  time.  The  alkali  solution  is  heated  to 
boiling  in  a  cast-iron  vessel  (industrially  by  means  of 
steam-pipes)  and  the  lime  paste  added  in  instalments  until 
a  sample  of  the  filtered  mixture  no  longer  efiervesces  on 
addition  of  an  excess  of  acid.  The  mixture  is  then 
allowed  to  settle  in  the  iron  vessel,  access  of  air  bcipg 
prevented  as  much  as  practicable,  and  the  clear  liquor 
is  drawn  oflf  by  means  of  a  sj-phon.  The  remaining 
mud  of  carbonate  and  hydrate sof  lime  is  washed,  by 
decantation,  \vith  small  instalments  of  hot  water  to  recover 
at  least  part  of  the  alkali  diflfused  throughout'  it,  but  this 
process  must  not  be.  continued  too  long  or  else  some  of 
the  lime  passes  into  solution.  The  united  liquors  are 
boiled  down  in  an  iron  vessel  until  the  desired  degree  of 
concentration  is  reached.  In  obedience  to  an  old  tradition, 
the  concentration  is  habitually  continued  until  the  specific 
gravity  of  the  cold  ley  is  1-333,  which  is  a  rather  incon- 
veniently high  degwje  of  strength  for  most  purposes,  but 
in  the  case  of  the  ordinary  commercial  article  offers  this 
advantage,  that  any  sulphate  of  potash  which  may  be 
present  as  an  impurity  crystallizes  out  completely  on 
standing  (Liebig).  If  solid  caustic  potash  is  wanted,  the 
ley  (after  removal  of  the  deposit  of  sulphate,  ic.)  is  trans- 
ferred to  a  silver  dish,  and  the  evaporation  continued  until, 
instead  of  steam,  the  heavy  vapour  of  KilO  itself  is  seen 
to  go  off.     The  residual  oily  liquid  is  then  jwured  out  into 


590 


POTASSIUM 


a  polished  iron  tray,  or  into  an  iron  mould  to  produce  the 
customary  form  of  "sticks,"  and  allowed  to  cool.  The 
solidified  preparation  must  be  at  once  bottled  up,  because 
it  attracts  the  moisture  and  carbonic  acid  of  the  air  with 
great  avidity  and  deliquesces.  According  to  the  present 
writer's  experience  [Journ.  Soc.  Chem.  Jnd.,  May  1884), 
nickel  basins  are  far  better  adapted  than  iron  basins  for  the 
concentration  of  potash  ley.  The  latter  begin  to  oxidize 
before  the  ley  has  come  up  to  the  traditional  strength, 
while  nickel  is  not  attacked  so  long  as  the  percentage  of 
■real  KHO  is  short  of  60.  For  the  fusion  of  the  dry 
hydrate  nickel  vessels  cannot  be  used ;  in  fact,  even  silver 
is  perceptibly  attacked  as  soon  as  all  the  excess  of  water 
is  away ;  absolutely  pure  KHO  can  be  produced  only  in 
gold  vessels.  Regarding  the  action  of  potash  on  platinum, 
see  Platinum  (supra,  p.  191).  Glass  and  (to  a  less  extent) 
porcelain  are  attacked  by  caustic  potash  ley,  slowly  in  the 
cold,  more  readily  on  boiling. 

Frozen  caustic  potash  forms  an  opaque,  white,  stone-like 
mass  of  dense  granular  fracture;  specific  gravity  =  2-1. " 
It  fuses  considerably  below  and  is  perceptibly  volatile  at 
a  red  heat.  It  is  extremely  soluble  in  even  cold  water, 
and  in  any  proportion  of  water  on  boUing.  The  solution 
is  intensely  "  alkaline  "  to  test-papers.  It  readily  dissolves 
the  epidermis 'of  the  skin  and  many  other  kinds  of  animal 
tissue, — hence  the  well-known  application  of  the  "  sticks  " 
in  surgery.  A  dilute  potash  ley  readily  emidsionizes  fats, 
and  on  boiling  "  saponifies  "  them  -with  formation  of  a  soap 
and  of  glycerin.  Caustic  potash. is  the  very  type  of  an 
energetic  (mono-acid)  basic  hydrate  (see  Chemistey,  vol. 
V.  pp.  486,  488). 

According  to  Tiinnermann's  and  Schififs  determinations, 
as  calculated  by  Gerlach,  the  relation  in  pure  potash  ley 
between  specific  gravity  at  15°  C.  and  percentage  strength 
is  as  follows :- — 


PerceBtagps  of 
KHOorKaO. 

Specific  Gravity,  if 
percentage  refers  to 

Percentages  of 
KHO  or  KjO. 

Specific  Gra-rity,  if 
percentage  refers  to 

KoO. 

KHO. 

KjO. 

KHO. 

0 

1 
10 
15 
20 

1-000 
1-010 
1-099 

1-154 
1-215 

1-000 
1-009 
1-083 
1-128 
1-177 

25 
30 
40 
50 
60 

1-285 
1-355 
1-504 
1-660 
1-810 

1-230 
1-2S8 
1-411 
1-539 
1-667 

All  commercial  caustic  potash  is  contaminated  with  ex- 
cess of  water  (over  and  above  that  in  the  KHO)  and  with 
carbonate  and  chloride  of  potassium ;  sulphate,  as  a  rule, 
is  absent.  Absolutely  pure  potash  has  perhaps  never  been 
seen ;  a  preparation  sufiicing  for  most  purposes  of  the 
analyst  is  obtained  by  digesting  the  commercial  article  in 
strong  (85  per  cent,  by  weight)  jowre  alcohol.  The  hydrate 
KHO  dissolves  in  the  alcohol  of  the  solvent ;  the  chloride 
and  the  carbonate  unite  -with  the  water  and  form  a  lower 
layer  or  magma,  from  which  the  alcoholic  solution  of  the 
KHO  is  decanted  bS,  to  be  evaporated  to  dryness  and 
fused  in  silver  vessels  ("potasse  k  I'alcool"). 

The  metal  (potassium)  has  been  known  to  exist  since 
Lavoisier,  but  was  first  obtained  as  a  substance  by  Hum- 
phry Davy  in  1807.  He  prepared  it  from  the  hydrate  by 
electrolysis.  Gay-Lussac  and  Th^nard  subsequently  found 
that  thds  substance  can  be  reduced  to  the  metallic  state 
more  easily  by  passing  its  vapour  over  white  hot  metallic 
iron  ;  but  even  their  method  as  a  mode  of  preparation  was 
aoon  superseded  by  Brunner's,  who,  to  the  surprise  of  his 
contemporaries,  prpduced  the  metal  by  simply  distilling 
its  carbonate  with  charcoal — applying  an  old-established 
principle  of  ordinary  metallurgy.  Brunner's  process  is  used 
to  the  present  day  for  the  production  of  the  metal 

One  of  those  cylindrical,  necklesa,  wrought -iron  bottles  which 
serve  for  the  storing  of  quicksilver  is  made  into  a  retort  by  taking 
out  the  screw-plug  at  the  centre  of  one  of  the  round  ends  and 


substituting  for  it  a  short,  ground-in,  iron  outlet  pipe.  Tht* 
retort  is  charged  with  a  black  Hiix  made  from  a  mixtiue  of  pur* 
and  crude  bitartrate  so  adjusted  that  the  flux  contains  as  nearly  as 
possible  the  proportion  of  free  carbon  demanded  by  the  eiiuatiou 
K2C03-t-2C  =  2K-l-3CO.  It  is  then  suspended  horizontally  within 
a  powerful  wind-furnace,  constructed  for  coke  as  fuel.  At  first  a 
mixture  of  coke  and  charcoal  is  applied,  to  produce  the  right  tem- 
perature for  chasing  away  the  moisture  and  enabling  one  to,  so  to 
say,  varnish  over  the  retort  with  borax  and  thus  protect  it  against 
tlie  subsequent  intense  heat.  After  these  preliminaries  coke  alone 
is  used  and  the  fire  urged  on  to,  and  maintained  at,  its  maximiim 
pitch,  when  potassium  vapour  soon  begins  to  make  its  appearance. 
The  condensation  of  this  vapour,  however,  demands  special  methods, 
because  even  the  cold  metal  would  quickly  oxidize  in  the  air  and 
act  most  violently  on  liquid  water.  Brunner'used  to  condense  the 
vapour  by  jjassing  it  into  a  small  copper  vessel  charged  with  rock- 
oil  (see  Paraffin,  vol.  xviii.  p.  237),  m  which  liquid  the  condensed 
metal  sinks  to  the  bottom  and  thus  escapes  the  air.  Donne  and 
Jlaresra  dispense  with  rock-oil  altogether  ;  they  receive  the  vapour 
in  a  diy  condenser  made  of  two  fiat  rectangular  trays  of  ivrought 
u-on  which  fit  closely  upon  each  other,  enclosing  a  space  such  as 
migh.t  be  used  as  a  mould  for  casting  a  thin  cake  of  any  ordinary 
metal.  This  condenser  has  a  short  neck  into  which  _the.outlet  pipe 
of  the  retort  fits  ;  and  the  pipe  must  be  as  short  as  possible,  be- 
cause it  is  essential  (Donne  and  Maresca)  that  the  hot  vapoiu-  pass 
abruptly  from  its  original  high  to  a  low  temperature,  to  evade  a 
certain  range  of  medium  temperatures  at  which  the  metal  com- 
bines with  carbonic  o.xide  into  a  black  solid,  which  may  obstruct 
the  outlet  pipe.  The  formation  of  this  bye-product  cannot  be 
altogether  avoided  ;  hence  a  long  borer  is  inserted  into  the  con- 
denser from  the  first  to  enable  one  to  clear  the  throat  of  the  retort 
at  a  moment's  notice.  The  condenser  is  kept  as  far  as  possible  cold 
by  the  constant  application  to  it  of  damp  cloths.  As  soon  as  the 
distillation  is  finished  the  (still  hot)  condenser  is  plunged  into  a 
bucketful  of  rock-oii,  to  cool  it  down,  the  mould  opened  (under  the 
oil),  and  the  now  solid  metal  taken  out.'  The  crude  metal  is  always 
contaminated  with  some  of  the  black  solid  and  otlier  mechanical 
impurities.  To  remove  these  the  best  method  is  to  redistil  it 
from  out  of  a  small  iron  retort  and  condense  the  vapour  in  rock- 
oil  according  to  Brunner's  original  plan.  The  puriiied  metal  is 
soft  enough  to  be  moulded  (under  rock-oil)  into  globular  pieces, 
which  are  preserved  in  bottles  filled  to  the  top  with  the  protecting 
liquid.  But  even  this  does  not  prevent  gradual  oxidation  ;  bright 
metallic  potassium  can  be  maintained  in  this  condition  only  by 
preserving  it  in  a  sealed-np  glass  tube  mthin  a  vacuum  or  in  an 
atmosphere  of  hydrogen  or  some  other  inert  gas.  The  black  solid 
above  referred  to  is  a  most  dangerous  substance.  "When  exposed 
to  the  ail-  it  turns  red  and  then  explodes  either  spontaneously  or 
on  the  slightest  provocation  by  friction  or  pressure.  Even  if  kept 
under  rock-oil  it  gradually  becomes  explosive.  The  distillation  of 
potassium,  in  fact,  is  a  dangerous  operation,  which  had  better  be 
left  in  the  hands  of  specialists. 

Firre  potassium  is  a  bluish-white  metal ;  but  on  exposure 
to  ordinary  air  it  at  once  draws  a  film  of  oxide,  and  on 
prolonged  exposure  deliquesces  into  a  solution  of  hydrate 
and  carbonate.  At  temperatures  below  0°  C.  it  is  pretty 
hard  and  brittle  ;  at  the  ordinary  temperature  it  is  so  soft 
that  It  can  be  kneaded  between  the  fingers  and  cut  with 
a  blunt  knife  ;  specific  gravity  =  0-865.  It  fuses  at  62°-5 
C.  (Bunsen),  and  at  720°  to  730°  C.  (Carnelley  and 
Williams),  i.e.,  considerably  below  its  boiling  point,  begins 
to  distil  -with  formation  of  an  intensely  green  vapour. 
When  heated  in  air  it  fuses  and  then  takes  fire  and  bums 
into  a  mixture  of  oxides.  Most  remarkable,  and  charac- 
teristic for  the  group  it  represents,  is  its  action  on  water. 
A  pellet  of  potassium  when  thrown  on  water  at  once  bursts 
out  into  a  violet  flame  and  the  burning  metal  fizzes  about 
on  the  surface,  its  extremely  high  temperature  precluding 
absolute  contact  with  the  liquid,  except  at  the  very  end, 
when  the  last  remnant,  through  loss  of  temperature,  "is 
wetted  by  the  water  and  bursts  with  explosive  -violence. 
What  really  goes  on  chemically  is  that  the  metal  decom- 
poses the  water  thus,  K  -1-  H2O  =  KHO  +  H,  and  that  the 
hydrogen  catches  fire,  the  violet  colour  of  the  flame  being 
due  to  the  potassium  vapour  diffused  throughout  it. 
Similar  to  that  on  water  is  its  action  on  alcohol :  the 
alcohol  is  converted  into  ethylate,  while  hydrogen  escapes, 
K  -t-  C2H5 .  OH  =  C2H5 .  OK  -f  H,  this  time  without  inflam- 
mation. So  strong  is  the  basilous  character  of  the  element 
that,  in  opposition  to  it,  even  ammonia  behaves  like  an 


POTASSIUM 


591 


acid.  A\Tien  the  oxide-free  metal  is  heated  gently  within 
the  dry  gas  it  is  gradually  transformed  into  a  blue  liquid, 
which  on  cooling  freezes  into  a  yellowish-brown  or  flesh- 
coloured  solid.  This  body  is  known  as  "  potassamide," 
KNHj.  When  heated  by  itself  to  redness  the  amide  is 
decomposed  into  ammonia  and  nitride  of  potassium,  SNH^K 
=  NK3-f  2NH3.  The  nitride  is  an  almost  black  solid. 
Both  it  and  the  amide  decompose  water  readily  with  for- 
mation of  ammonia  and  caustic  potash.  Potassium .  at 
temperatures  from  200'  to  400°  C.  "occludes"  hydrogen 
gas,  as  palladium  does  (see  "Palladium,"  under  PlaiinCjM, 
svprn,  p.  193).  The  highest  degree  of  saturation  corre- 
sponds appro.vimately  to  the  formula  K„H  for  tlifi  "alloy," 
or  to  about  126  volumes  of  gas  (measured  cold)  for  one 
volume  of  metal.  In  a  vacuum  or  in  sufficiently  dilute 
hydrogen  the  compound  from  200' .  upwards  loses  hydro- 
gen, until  the  tension  of  the  free  gas  has  arrived  at  the 
maximum  ^-alue  characteristic  of  that  temperature  (Troost 
and  Haiitefeuille). 

Potnssiitm  Oj-i'lcs,  singularly,  can  bo  produced  only  from  the 
metal,  and  another  remarkable  fact  is  that  the  one  with  which  all 
chepiical  students  imagine  they  are  so  familiar — namely,  "anhydrous 
pota-sh,"  KjO — is  little  more  than  a  fiction.  According  to  Vernon 
Harcourt,  when  the  metal  is  heated  cautiously,  first  in  dry  air  and 
then  in  dry  oxygen,  it  is  transformed  into  a  white  mass  (K^Oj  ?), 
which,  however,  at  once  takes  iip'more  oxj'^en  mth  formations 
nltimately  of  a  yellow  powdery  tetroxide  (K5O4),  fusible  at  a-  red 
heat  without  decomposition.  At  a  white  heat  it  loses  oxygen  and 
leaves  a  residue  of  lower  oxides  {K„0  ?).  When  heated  in  hydrogen 
it  is  reduced  to  ordinary  potash,  KIIO.  When  dissolved  in  excess  of 
dilute  acid  it  yields  a  mixed  solution  of  the  respective  potash  salt 
and  peroxide  of  hydrogen,  with  abundant  evolution  of  oxygen  gas. 

PotassU'.ijt  Salts. — There  is  only  one  series  of  tliese  known, — 
namely,  the  salts  produced  by  the  union  of  potash  (KHO)  with  acids. 

Chloride,  K.CI. — This  salt  (commercial  name,  "  muriate  of  potash  ") 
is  at  present  being  produced  in  immense  quantities  at  Stassfiirt 
from  the  so-called  "  Abraumsalzc. "  For  the  purpose  of  the  manu- 
facturer of  muriate  these  are  assorted  into  a  raw  material  contain- 
ing approximately  in  100  parts — 55-65  of  carnallito  (representing 
16  parts  of  cliloride  of  potassium) ;  20-25  of  common  salt ;  15-20 
of  kieserite,  a  peculiar,  veiy  slowly  soluble  sulphate  of  magnesia, 
MgSoj.IIjO;  2-4  of  tachhydrito  (CaCU.  2MgCl;-t-12H„0) ;  and 
minor  components.  This  mixture  is  now  WTought  mainly  in  two 
ways.  (1)  The  salt  is  dissolved  in  water  with  the  help  of  steam, 
and  the  solution  is  cooled  down  to  from  60°  to  70°,  when  a 
quantity  of  impure  common  salt  crystallizes  out,  which  is  re- 
moved. The  decanted  ley  deposits  on  cooling  and  standing  a 
70  per  cent,  muriate  of  potash,  which  is  purified,  if  desired,  by 
washing  it  by  displacement  \vith  cold  water.  Common  salt  prin- 
cipally goes  into  solutiin,  and  the  percentage  may  thus  be  brought 
np  to  from  80  to  95.  The  mother -liquor  from  the  70  per  cent 
muriate  is  evaporated  down  further,  tho  common  salt  which 
separates  out  in  the  heat  removed  as  it  appears,  and  tho  sufK- 
cicntly  concentrated  liquor  allowed  to  crystallize,  when  almost 
pnre.  carnallito  separates  out,  which  is  easily  decomposed  into  its 
components  (sec  infra).  (2)  Ziervogel  and  Tuchen's  method. 
The  crude  salt  is  ground  np  and  then  heated  in  concentrated 
solution  of  chlorido  of  magnesium  with  mechanical  agitation. 
The  carnallito  principally  di-ssolves  and  crystallizes  out  relatively 
pure  on  cooling.  The  mother-liquor  is  used  for  a  subsequent 
extraction  of  fresh  raw  salt.  The  camallite  produceil  is  dissolved 
in  hot  water  and  tho  solution  allowed  to  cool,  when  it  deposits 
a  coarse  gianular  nuiriate  of  potash  containing  up  to  99  per  cent. 
of  the  pure  substance.  Tho  undissolved  residue  produced  in  cither 
process  consists  chiefly  of  kieserito  and  common  salt  It  is  worked 
up  eitlicr  for  Eiisom  salt  and  common  salt,  or  for  sulphate  of  soda 
and  chlorido  of  mappiesium.  Tho  potassifcrous  bye-products  are 
utilized  for  the  manufarturo  of  manures. 

Chemically  pure  chloride  of  potassium  is  most  conveniently  pre- 
pared from  pure  perchlorato  (see  infra)  by  dioxygouating  it  m  a 
platinum  basin  at  the  lowest  temperature  anil  then  fusing  the 
re-siduo  in  a  well-covered  platinum  crucible.  The  fiised  product 
solidilies  on  cooling  into  a  colourless  glass.  Chloride  of  pota-ssium 
dissolves  iji  water  and  crystallizes  from  tho  Bolution  iu  anhydrous 
cubes.     100  parts  of  water  dissolve — 

nt   0"  10'  20*  .'.0*  lOO"  C. 

29-2  32-0  31-7  42-8  668 

parts  of  tho  salt     When  a  sufficiency  of  hydrochloric-acid  pjas  is 
(lasscd  into  the  solution  the  salt  is  completely  precipitated  as  a 
hoe  powder.      If  tho  original  solution  contained  chloride  of  map- 
ne«iuu>  or  caU'ium  or  sulphate  of  potash,  all  impurities  remain  in  • 
Uw  inothet-linuor  (the  SO;,  as  KHSO,),  and  can  be  removed  by 


washing  the  precipitate  with  strong  hydrochloric  acid.  Chloride 
of  potassium  fuses  at  738°  C.  (Carnelley),  and  at  a  red  heat  vola- 
tilizes rather  abundantly. 

Chlorate,  KCIO3.  —  This  industmlly  important  salt  was  dis- 
covered in  1736  by  BerthoUet,  who  correctly  designated  it  as 
"peroxidized  muriate."  Chlorine  gas  is  largely  absorbed  by  cold 
caustic-potash  ley  with  formation  of  chloride  and  hypochlorite,' 
2KHO  +  Clj=KCl-l-KC10-(-HjO.  When  the  mked  solution  is 
boiled  it  suffers,  strictly  speaking,  a  complicated  decomposition, 
which,  however,  in  the  main  comes  to  the  same  as  if  the  hypo- 
chlorite broke  up  into  chloride  and  chlorate,  31iC10  =  2KCl-l-  KCIO3. 
Hence  chlorate  of  potash  is  easily  produced  by  passing  chlorine 
into  hot  caustic -potash  ley  so  as  at  once  to  realize  the  change, 
6KHO-l-3Clj,  =  3HjO-(-5KCl-l-KC103;  and  this  method  used  to 
bo  followed  industrially  imtil  Liebig  pointed  out  that  five-sixths 
of  the  potash  can  be  saved  by  first  substituting  milk  of  lime, 
Ca(OH)2=2caOH,  for  the  potash  ley  and  from  the  mixed  solution 
of  lime -salts  precipitating,  so  to  say,  the  chloric  acid  as  potash 
salt  by  adding  IKCl  for  every  IcaClOj  present,  concentratmg  by 
evaporation,  and  allowing  the  KCIO3  to  crystallize  out  This  is 
the  present  industrial  process.  For  the  technical  details  we  must 
refer  to  the  handbooks  of  chemistry.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  in 
practice  about  1-03  times  KCI  are  used  for  every  IcaGlOj,  and 
that  the  salt  produced  is  almost  chemically  pui'e  after  one  recrys- 
tallization.  By  repeated  recrystallization  every  trace  of  impurities 
is  easily  removed.  The  crystals  are  colourless  transparent  mono- 
clinic  plates,  which,  unless  formed  very  slowly,  are  Very  thin,  so  as 
often  to  exhibit  the  Neivton's  colours.    100  parts  of  water  dissolve — 


at  0" 
3-3 


60* 
19 


K)4'-8  (on  boiling) 
60 


parts  of  the  salt  (Gay-Lussac).  The  salt  is  almost  insoluble  in  strong 
alcohol.  It  is  permanent  in  the  air.  It  fuses  at  359°  C.  (Carnelley), 
and  at  about  18°  above  the  temperatui-e  of  its  formation  the  liquid 
gives  off  oxygen  with  evohdion  of  heat,  and  formation  ultimately  of 
chloride  (and  oxygen).  The  salt  accordingly,  in  opposition  to  any 
combustible  matter  with  which  it  may  be  mixed,  behaves  at  tho 
same  time  as  a  store  of  highly-condensed  loosely -combined  oxygen 
and  of  potential  heat.  Hence  its  manifold  applications  in  artillery 
and  pyrotechnics  are  easily  understood.  To  give  ono  example  of 
the  readiness  with  which  it  acts  as  a  burning  agent :  a  mixture  of 
it  and  sulphur  when  struck  with  a  hammer  explodes  loudly,  the 
mechanical  blow  sufficing  to  produce  locally  the  temperature  neces- 
sary for  starting  tho  reaction.  When  the  salt  was  still  a  novelty 
it  was  tried  as  a  substitute  for  the  nitre  in  gunpowder.  Such 
powder,  however,  proved  too  good  to  be  safe.  More  recently  a 
mixture  of  49  parts  of  the  chlorate,  23  of  sugar,  and  28  of  prussiate 
of  potash  ^vas  recommended  by  Pohl  as  a  preferable  substitute  for 
gimpowder,  but  this  powder  has  never  come  into  actual  use  any- 
where. We  must  not  forget  to  point  out  thativiixtures  of  chlorate 
of  potash  and  combustible  substances  must  on  :to  account  bo  made 
in  a  mortar  ;  this  would  bo  sure  to  lead  to  daT.(gerous  explosions.- 
The  several  ingredients  must  be  powdered  separately  and  only  then 
be  mixeil  together  on  a  sheet  of  paper  or  on  a  tabl*,  all  unnecessary 
pressure  or  fi-iction  being  carefully  avoided. 

The  decomposition  of  chlorate  of  potash  by  heai t^  gi'eatly  facili- 
tated by  admixture  of  even  small  proportions  of  cer  ^n  solid  oxides, 
e.g.,  oxide  of  copper,  of  iron,  or  of  taanganese.  ."ihe  oxygen,  in 
the  case  of  binoxjdo  of  manganese,  for  instance,  comes  ofl'  below 
the  fusing  point  of  tho  salt  Hence  a  s.alt  contaminated  with  even 
a  small  proportion  of  heavy  metallic  chlorate  cannot  (in  general) 
be  fused  without  decomposition.  The  writer  observed  this  anomaly 
with  a  coranieroial  chlorate  which  happened  to  contain  about  one 
half  per  cent  of  chlorate  of  zinc.  The  agucous  solution  of  tho  salt 
is  neutral  and  bears  prolonged  boiling  wnthout  decomposition.  On 
acidification  with  dilute  sulphuric  acid  it  assumes  the  reactions  of 
a  solution  of  chloric  acid,  i.e.,  of  a  powerful  but  rt'adily  controllablo 
oxydant.  In  this  capacity  it  is  used  in  calico-printing  ns  a 
"discharge."  In  the  same  industry  it  serves  for  making  the 
chlorate  of  soda  needed  for  the  production  of  aniline  black.  In 
tlio  chemical  laboratory  it  is  in  constant  requisition  as  a  source  of 
oxygen  and  as  an  oxidizing  agent.  In  tlio  hands  of  Marignac  it 
scrsed  for  tho  determination  of  the  important  ratio  KCI :  30. 

Pcrtliloralr,  KClOj. — Tlio  decomposition  of  chlarato  of  i>ot:t'!li  by 
heat,  if  catalytic  agents  like  MnO„,  kc,  aro  ab.>*ont,  proceeds  by  two 
stages.  In  tho  fii-st  the  salt  breaks  \i\>  thus,  2KCI03=  KCl-f  C. 
-t-KClOj ;  in  the  second  the  perchlorato  at  a  higher  t'-niprraturo  is 
decomposed  into  chlorido  and  oxygen.  The  tennination  of  the 
first  stage  is  marked  by  a  slnekeniiig  in  the  evolution  of  tho  oxygen 
and  by  tlio  residual  salt  (which,  at  tho  beginning,  is  a  thin  fluid) 
becoming  pasty.  From  tho  mixture  KCl-fKC10<  the  chloride  is 
extracted  by  lixiviation  with  successive  instalments  of  cold  water. 
The  residual  perchlorato  is  irn/  easily  purified  by  rccry stall ization 
(comparo  pure  chloride  of  potassiuin,  supra).  Perchlorato  of  potash 
dissolves  in  88  parts  of  water  of  10°C.,  and  in  far  less  of  boiling  water. 
It  is  absolutely  insoluble  iu  absolute  alcohol.  It  begins  to  give 
ofT  its  oxygen  at  about  400*  C. ,  which  is  below  its  fusing  pomt 


592 


POTASSIUM 


The  salt  has  been  recommended  a^  a  substitute  for  chlorate  in 
pyrotechnic  mLxtures,  because  it  contains  more  oxygen,  and  yet,  on 
account  of  its  greater  stability,  is  a  less  dangerous  ingredient. 

Bromide,  KBr. — This  salt  is  formed  when  bromine  is  dissolved 
in  caustic-potash  ley.  The  reaction  is  quite  analogous  to  that  go- 
ing on  in  the  case  of  chlorine  ;  only  the  hypobromite  (KBrO)  first 
produced  is  far  less  stable  than  hypochlorite,  and  vanishes  after 
short  heating.  The  addition  of  bromine  is  continued  untO  the 
liquid  is  permanently  yellow  and  retains  its  colour  after  short  heat- 
ing. The  solution  is  then  evaporated  to  dryness  and  the  bromate 
decomposed  by  cautious  heating.  A  small  portion  of  the  bromate 
breaks  up  into  KjO  +  Br^-l-SO  ;  hence  the  residual  bromide  is  con- 
taminated with  a  little  free  alkali ;  but  this  is  easily  set  right  by 
neutralizing  its  solution  mth  hydrobromic  acid.  The  salt  crystal- 
lizes in  colourless  transparent  cubes,  easily  soluble  in  water.  It 
is  used  in  medicine  for  quieting  the  uerves, — to  cure  sleeplessness, 
for  iustanoe  ;  also  (Internally)  as  a  local  anjesthetic  preparatory 
to  operations  on  the  larynx  or  the  eye.  The  dose  of  the  pure 
(KI  free)  salt  for  adults  can  safely  be  raised  to  2  grammes  (about  30 
grain*).     It  is  also  used  in  photography. 

Iodide,  KI. — Of  the  very  numerous  methods  which  have  been 
recommended  for  the  preparation  of  this  important  salt  the  sirvplest 
(and  probably  the  best)  is  to  dissolve  in  a  caustic- potash  ley  (which 
is  dilute  enough  to  hold  the  rather  difiScultly  soluble  iodate  KIO3 
in  solution)  enough  iodine  to  produce  a  permanent  yellow  colour 
(the  iodine  passes  at  once  into  SKI-fKIOjj  the  hypo  body  KIO 
has  no  existence  practically)  and  to  deoxidize  the  iodate,  which  is 
done  most  conveniently  by  adding  a  sufficiency  of  powdered  char- 
coal to  the  solution,  evaporating  to  dryness  in  an  iron  vessel,  and 
heating  the  residue.  The  oxygen  goes  otT  as  COj  at  a  lower  tem- 
perature than  that  which  would  be  needed  for  its  expulsion  as 
oxygen  gas.  The  residue  is  dissolved,  and  the  solution  filtered  and 
evaporated  to  crystallization.  The  salt  comes  out  in  colourless 
transparent  cubes,  very  easily  soluble  in  even  cold  water.  The 
commercial  salt  forms  opaque  milk-white  crystals,  which,  as  a 
matter  of  habit,  are  preferred  to  the  clear  salt,  although  they  are 
produced  by  causing  the  salt  to  crj'stallize  from  a  strongly  alkaline 
solution  and  by  drying  the  crystals  (finally)  in  a  stream  of  hot  air, 
and  although  through  the  former  operation  they  are  at  least  liable 
to  contain  carbonate.  Iodide  of  potassium  acts  far  more  powerfully 
on  the  human  system  than  bromide,  and  therefore  is  administered 
in  smaller  doses  It  is  used  against  skin-diseases,  and  also  for 
eliminating  the  mercury  which  settles  in  the  system  after  long- 
continued  administration  of  mercurial  medicines.  It  is  also  used, 
far  more  largely  than  the  bromide,  in  photography.  See  Phoio- 
GBAPHT,  passim. 

Sulphate  (KjSOj)  used  to  be  extracted  from  kainite,  but  tne 
process  is  now  given  up  because  the  salt  can  be  produced  cheaply 
enough  from  the  muriate  by  decomposing  it  witu  its  exact  equi- 
valent of  oil  of  vitriol  and  calcining  the  residue.  To  purify  the 
crude  product  it  is  dissolved  in  hot  water  and  the  solution  filtered 
and  allowed  to  cool,  when  the  bulk  of  the  dissolved  salt  crystallizes 
out  with  characteristic  promptitude.  The  very  beautiful  (anhydrous) 
crystals  have  as  a  rule  the  habitus  of  a  double  six-sided  pyramid, 
but  really  belong  to  the  rhombic  system.  They  are  transparent, 
very  hard,  and  absolutely  permanent  in  the  air.  They  have  a  bitter 
salty  taste.     100  parts  of  water  dissolve — 

at  0"  12'  100'  C. 

8-36  10  26 

parts  of  the  salt.  Sulphate  of  potash  fases  at  a  strong  red  heat, 
and  at  this  temperature  volatilizes,  for  an  alkaline  salt,  rather 
slowly.  The  chloride,  weight  for  weight,  volatilizes  at  ten  times 
the  rate  (Bunsen).  Sulphate  of  potash  used  to  be  employed  in 
medicine,  but  is  now  obsolete.  The  crude  salt  is  used  occasionally 
in  the  manufacture  of  glass. 

Bisulphate  (KHSO4)  is  readily  produced  by  fusing  thirteen  parts 
of  the  powdered  normal  salt  with  eight  parts  of  oil  of  vitriol.  It 
dissolves  in  three  parts  of  water  of  0°  C.  The  solution  behaves 
pretty  much  as  if  its  two  congeners,  KjSOj  and  HoSOi,  were  present 
side  by  side  of  each  other  uncombined.  An  excess  of  alcohol,  in 
fact,  precipitates  normal  sulphate  (with  little  bisulphate)  and  free 
acid  remains  in  solution.  Similar  is  the  behaviour  of  the  fused  dry 
salt  at  a  dull  red  heat ;  it  acts  on  silicates,  titanates,  &c. ,  as  if  it 
were  sulphuric  acid  raised  beyond  its  natural  boiling  point.  Hence 
its  frequent  application  in  analysis  as  a  disintegrating  agent. 

For  the  following  potash  salts  we  refer  to  the  articles  named  : — 
Chromates,  see  Chromium;  Cyanide  and  Ferrocyanide,  Pkussio 
Acid;  Chloroplatiiiate,  Platinum  (supra,  p.  192);  Nitrate,  Nitro- 
gen (voL  xvii  p.  518) ;  Phosphates,  Phosphorus  (voL  xviii.  pp. 
818-19);  OxaWes,  Oxalic  Acid;  Sulphides  3.ndLSulphites,?iVi.¥nvv.; 
Silicates,  Glass  (vol.  x.  p.  655  sq.)  and  Silica  ;  Tartrates,  Tartaric 
Acid.  For  potash  salts  not  named,  see  the  handbooks  of  chemistry. 
Rubidium  and  Csesium. — When  Bunsen  and  Kirchlioff 
in  1860  applied  their  method  of  spectrum  analysis  to  the 
alkali  salts  which  they  had  extracted  analytically  from 
Diirkheim  mineral  water,  they  obtained  a  spectrum  which, 


in  addition  to  the  lines  characteristic  for  sodium,  potassium, 
and  lithium,  exhibited  two  blue  lines  which  were  foreign 
to  any  other  spectrum  they  had  ever  seen.  They  accord- 
ingly concluded  that  these  lines  must  be  owing  to  the 
presence  of  a  new  alkaU  metal,  which  they  called  "caBsium." 
Bunsen  at  once  resumed  the  preparation  of  the  mixed  alka- 
line salt  with  44,000  litres  of  Diirkheim  water,  with  the 
view  of  isolating  the  caesium  in  the  form  of  a  pure  salt ; 
and  he  was  more  than  successful — for  the  new  alkali 
salt,  after  elimination  of  all  the  ordinary  alkali  metals, 
proved  to  be  a  mixture  of  the  salts  of  two  new  alkali 
metab,  which  he  succeeded  in  separating  from  each  other.' 
For  one  he  retained  the  name  already  chosen ;  the  other 
he  called  "rubidium,"  on  account  of  the  presence  in  his 
spectrum  of  certain  characteristic  red  lines.  Since  Bunsen's 
time  these  two  metals  have  been  discovered  in  a  great 
many  native  potassiferous  materials — minerals,  mineral 
waters,  plant  ashes,  iic. — but  in  all  cases  they  form  only 
a  small  fraction  of  the  alkali,  the  caesium  in  general 
amounting  to  only  a  fraction  of  even  the  rubidium.  One 
solitary  exception  to  both  rules  is  afforded  by  a  rare 
mineral  called  "poUux,"  which  is  found  only  on  the  island 
of  Elba.  Plattner  analysed  this  mineral  in  1846  and 
recognized  it  as  a  compound  sUicate  of  alumina,  oxide  of 
iron,  soda,  potash,  and  water ;  but  his  quantitative  analysis 
came  up  to  only  92'75  per  cent.,  and  he  could  not  accoimt 
for  the  7 '25  per  cent,  of  loss.  After  Bunsen's  discovery 
Pisani  analysed  the  mineral  again,  and  he  foimd  that  it 
contained  no  potash  at  all,  but,  instead  of  it,  a  large 
percentage  (34'1)  of  csesia.  Kecalculating  Plattner's  analy- 
sis on  the  assumption  that  the  presumed  chloroplatinate 
of  potassium  was  really  chloroplatinate  of  caesium,  he  found 
that  the  corrected  numbers  did  add  up  to  near  100  and 
agreed  with  his  own.  Rubidium,  singularly,  is  absent  from 
this  mineraL 

That  both  rubidium  and  caesium  are  contained  in  sea 
water  might  well  be  taken  for  granted ;  but  it  is  worth 
while  to  state  that  Schmidt  of  Dorpat  actually  proved  the 
presence  of  rubidium,  and  even  determined  it  quantita- 
tively. 

For  the  preparation  of  rubidium  compounds  one  of  the  best 
materials  is  a  mixture  of  alkaline  salts,  which  falls  as  a  bye-product 
in  the  industrial  preparation  of  carbonate  of  lithia  from  lepidolite. 
A  supply  of  this  salt  mixture  which  Punsen  worked  up  contained 
20  per  cent,  of  chloride  of  rubidium,  33  of  chloride  of  potassium, 
and  36  of  common  salt,  but  very  little  csesium  ;  his  supply  came 
from  the  Saxon  or  Bohemian  mineral.  The  lepidolite  of  Hebron, 
Maine,  United  States,  on  the  other  hand,  is  rich  in  csesium. 
Another  practically  available  source  for  ca;sium  is  the  mother- 
liquor  salt  of  Nauheim  in  Germany.  It  yielded  to  Bottcher  1 
per  cent,  of  its  weight  of  the  chloroplatinate  PtClgCsj. 

Bunsen's  method  for  the  extraction  of  the  two  rare  potassium 
metals  from  a  given  mixture  of  alkaline  salts  is  founded  upon  the 
different  solubility  of  the  several  alkaline  chloroplatinates.  Accord- 
ing to  him  100  parts  of  water  dissolve — 

Potassium  Rubidium  Cxslum 

at     0'  C 0-74  013  0-024 

„     20°C 1'12  0-14  0079 

,,  100°  C 5-13  0-63  0-377 

parts  of  the  several  salts.  The  chloroplatinates  of  sodium  and 
lithium  are  easily  soluble  even  in  cold  water,  so  that  chloride  of 
platinum  does  not  precipitate  these  two  metals  at  all.  Hence, 
supposing  we  boil  a  given  mixture  of  chloroplatinates  of  potassium 
and  (say)  rubidium  with  a  quantity  of  water  insuflScient  to  dissolve 
the  whole,  part  of  both  salts  wOl  dissolve  ;  but  the  residual  chloro- 
platinate wUl  be  richer  in  rubidium  than  the  dissolved  part  And 
supposing,  on  the  other  hand,  we  add  to  a  mixed  solution  of  the 
two  chlorides  a  quantity  of  chloroplatinic-acid  solution  insufficient 
to  bring  down  the  whole  of  both  metals,  the  rubidium  will  accumu- 
late in  the  precipitate  and  the  potassium  iu  the  solution.  It  is 
also  easily  understood  that,  if  the  amount  of  reagent  added  falls 
short  even  of  that  which  would  be  needed  by  the  rubidium  if  present 
alone,  a  very  nearly  pure  PtCljEbj  may  be  expected  to  come  down. 
Any  dry  chloroplatinate  is  easUy  reduced  to  a  mixture  of  metallic 
platinum  and  alkaline  chloride  by  the  simple  operation  of  heat-' 
ing  in  hydrogen  to  about  300°  C.  The  chloride  can  be  dissolved 
out.  and  thus  again  made  amenable  to  fractional  precipitation  by 


P  0  T  — P  0  T 


593 


ilatinum  solution,  and  tho  platinum  oe  reconvertect  into  reagent 
oy  means  of  aqua  regia.  Hence  the  process  is  not  so  expensive 
as  it  iniglit  at  first  sight  ap, 

Keiltenbacher  lias  worked  out  nn  analogous  process  to  Bunaeu's, 
founded  upon  the  different  solubility  of  the  three  alums — Al .  R(SOj), 

+  12H.p.     At  17°  C.  100  parts  of  water  dissolve  of  the  alum  of 


Potassium 
IS!) 


Jiuhitihtm 
2-27 


Ca.'sium 
0-62 


parts.  Sodium  and  lithium  alum  are  very  easily  soluble  in  water, 
and  remain  dissolved  in  the  first  mother-liquor  when  tho  mixed 
alum  of  K,  Rb,  and  Cs  crystallizes  out.  These  three  alums  are 
pai'ted  by  repeated  crystalliaation,  and  the  rare  alkalis  recovered 
from  their  respective  alums  by  precipitation  with  chloride  of 
platiuum. 

The  separation  of  rubidium  and  cwsium  offers  great  difSculties. 
According  to  Godeffroy  an  approximate  separation  may  be  effected 
by  ""dissolving  the  niLxed  chlorides  in  strong  liydrochloric  acid,  and 
-adding  a  solution  of  terchloride  of  antimony  in  the  same  menstruum ; 
tlie  cresinm  (chieflj-)  comes  down  as  SbClj  +  6CsCl ;  the  bulk  of 
the  rubidium  remains  dissolved.  Tlie  two  rare  alkali  metals  are 
so  close!}'  similar  to  potassium  that  it  will  suffice  to  give  a  tabular 
statement  of  the  principal  points  of  difference.  By  way  of  intro- 
duction, however,  we  may  state  tliat  rubidium  matal  was  prepared 
by  Bunsen  from  the  black  flux  obtained  by  igniting  the  bitartrate, 
by  Brunner's  method  for  potassium.  Jletallic  CKsium,  it  seems, 
cannot  be  thus  obtained ;  but  in  1883  Setterberg  made  it  by  the 
electrolysis  of  a  fused  mixture  of  the  cyanides  of  cesium  and  barium. 

Potassium.  Jlxbidimn,              Caesium. 

Atomic  weights  0=18  K  =  39-138  Eb=85-4             C3=1330 

fret  Metals — 

Speciflc  gravity    0-S65  1-52                      1-83 

Fusingpoint ■"   62'-3  3S°-5                26"to27°C. 

Volatility*  increases  > — > 

Hudmles,  RHO— Very  siinQar  to  one  another ;  the  basility  increases  »— » 

I      Vide  sicpra.         Pcnnanent  in  air.    Deb'quescent. 

<7i?orides,  RCl \  iflmost  insoluble  *'  3Iore  soluble  than  KCU 

'       in  alcohol.  '  Soluble  in  alcohol. 
Itulphales,  R2SO4— 

100  parts  of  water  dis-(  At-  2°  C.  8  ?                        J59 

solve t„     70'C.19-3  42                           » 

Carhntiules,  R^COi— All  very  soluble  in  water. 

100  parts  of  alcohol  di5- 1^^  ^p9  ^  q  ^y^                     U  j 

Ahims  >  Solubility  decreases*— > 

Chioroplcilliiates )        {vide  supra). 

Aiuihjsis. — In  this  section  we  treat  of  the  detection  and  determin- 
ation of  alkali  metals  generally.  If  the  given  substance  is  a  solid, 
a  good  preliminary  test  is  to  heat  about  one  centigiamme  of  it  at  one 
end  of  a  fine  platinum  wire  in  the  flame-mantle  of  a  Bunsen  lamp, 
or  in  a  blow-pipe  flame  just  at  the  end  of  tho  inner  cone.  Most 
alkali  salts  are  sufficiently"  volatile  to  impart  to  the  flame  tho 
colour  characteristic  of  the  respective  metallic  vapour.  Certain 
native  silicates  and  certain  other  compounds  do  not  volatilize,  but 
these  can  be  rendered  amenable  to  the  test  by  mixing  them  with 
sulphate  of  lime  and  then  applying  the  flame,  whereupon  alkaline 
sulphate  is -formed  wliich  volatilizes.     The  flame-colours  are — 


Potassium^  Rnbidiumf  Csesium. 
Violet. 


Sodium. 
Yellow. 


Lithiuifl. 
Red. 


These  flame-reactions  are  very  delicate  but  not  conclusive,  because 
in  the  case  of  mLxtures  several  colours  may  be  radiated  out  at  the 
same  time,  and  one  mayeclipse  all  the  rest — this  holds,  for  instance, 
for  things  containing  sodium,  whose  flame-colour  is  more  intenso 
than  that  of  any  other  metal— or  a  mLxed  colour  may  bo  produced 
■which  the  eye  is  incompetent  to  analyse.  The  spectrum  apparatus 
here  comes  in  usefully  ;  and  by  means  of  it  it  is  in  general  possible 
to  see  the  lines  characteristic  of  the  several  metals  in  presence  of, 
or  at  least  after,  one  another,  because  as  a  rule  the  several  metals 
are  present  as  compounds  of  different  volatility. 

For  a  thorough  analysis  it  is  necessary  to  begin  by  bringing  the 
substance  into  ai^ueous  or  acid  solution,  and  next  to  eliminate  all 
that  is  Tiot  alkali  metal  by  suitable  methods.  A  certain  set  of 
heavy  metals  can  bo  precipitated  as  sulphides  by  means  0/  sulphur- 
etted hydrogen  in  the  presence  of  acid,  all  tho  rest  of  these  by 
means  of  sulphide  of  amuionium  from  an  alkaline  solution.  From 
the  filtrate,  Darium,  strontium,  and  calcium'  are  easily  precipitated 
by  means  of  carbonate  of  ammonia  on  boiling,  so  that,  if'  the  filtrate 
from  these  carbonates  is  evaporated  to  dryness  and  tho  residue 
kept  at  a  dull  red  heat  long  enough  to  drive  away  the  ammonia 
salts,  nothing  can  be  left  but  salts  of  alkali  metals  and  magnesium. 
This  residue  is  dissolved  in  a  small  quantity  of  water,  and  any 
residual  basic  salt  of  magnesium  filtered  off.  Tho  filtrate  is  then 
ready  to  be  tested  for  alkali  metals  as  follows :  ifinagncsia  he  absent, 
potassium  or  rubidium  (not  ca;sium)  can  bo  detected  by  addition 
(to  a  neutral  or  feebly  acetic  solution)  of  a  saturated  solution  of 
ultartrate  of  soda.  _  Potassium  and  rubidium  como  down  as  crys- 
talline bitartrates.  The  reaction  may  take  some  timo  to  become 
manifest,  but  can  bo  accelerated  by  vigorous  stirring.  In  a  separate 
quantity  of  the  solution  lithium  may  bo  searched  for  by  means  of 
carbonate  of  soda  or  trisodic  phosphate  as  explained  under  Lithium 

19-22 


(vol.  xiv.  p.  697).  For  soda  we  have  no  characteristic  precipitant 
In  any  case  the  spectrum  apparatus  should  be  used  for  controlling 
and,  if  necessarj',  supplementing  the  wet-way  tests.  The  case  of 
magnesia  being  'present  need  not  be  specially  considered,  because 
the  qualitative  method  will  easily  bo  deduced  from  what  b  said 
in  the  following  paragraph. 

Quantitative  Determinations. — An  exhaustive  treatment  of  this 
subject  would  be  out  of  place  here.  We  confine  ourselves  to  two 
cases.  (1)  A  mixture  of  alkaline  chlorides  only.  In  this  case  the 
potassium  (including  Kb  and  Cs)  is  best  separated  out  by  addin" 
a  quantity  of  chloroplarinic-acid  solution  sufficient  to  convert  aS 
tlie  metals  into  chloroplatinates,  to  evaporate  to  dryness  over  a 
water-bath,  and  from  the  residue  to  extract  the  lithium  and  sodium 
salts  by  Ibdviation  with  alcohol  of  70  per  cent,  (by  weight).  Tho 
residual  chloroplatinate  is  coDected  on  a  filter,  dried  at  110°  C,  and, 
if  Rb  and  Cs  are  absent,  weighed  as  chloroplatinate  of  potassium, 
PtCl8K,(PtCl8K„x  0-3071  =  2KC1).  The  chloride  of  sodium  is  deter- 
mined by  diS'erence — if  lithium  be  absent.  The  case  of  its  presence 
cannot  be  here  considered.  (2)  A  mixture  of  alkalis  combined  with 
sulphuric  acid,  or  such  volatile  acids  as  can  be  expelled  by  sulphuric. 
In  this  case  it  is  best  to  begin  by  converting  the  whole  into  neutral 
sulphates,  and  then  to  apply  the  method  of  Fiukener,  which, 
amongst  other  advantages,  offers  the  one  that  it  docs  ?!&4  demand 
the  absence  of  maguesia.  The  mixed  sulphate  is  dissolved  in  water 
and  the  solution  mixed  with  a  little  moro  than  the  volume  of 
chloroplatinic  acid  ("  platinum  solution  ")  demanded  by  the  pot- 
assium (Rb  and  Cs).  The  mixture  is  placed  in  a  water  bath  and,  if 
necessaiy,  diluted  with  sufficient-water  to  brin^  the  whole  of  the 
precipitated  chloroplatinate  into  hot  solution.  The  solution  is  then 
evaporated  very  nearly  to  dryness  (on  the  water  bath,  -with  couthiu- 
ous  stin-ing  towards  the  end  to  avoid  fonnation  of  crusts),  allowed 
to  cool,  and  the  residue  mixed,  first  mth  twenty  times  its  volume 
of  absolute  alcohol,  then  with  ten  volumes  of  absolute  ether.  The 
mixture  is  allowed  to  stand  in  a  well-covered  vessel  for  some  hours, 
to  enable  the  precipitate  to  settle  completely.  The  precipitate  con- 
tains  all  the  potassium  as  chloroplatinate,  and  most  of  the  sodimn 
and  magnesium,  and  also  part  of  the  lithium  in  the  sulphate  form. 
It  is  washed  with  ether-alcohol  (to  complete  filtrate  A),  and  then 
lixiviated  as  quicldy  as  possible  with  cold  concentrated  solution  ol 
sal-ammoniac,  which  dissolves  away  the  sulphates  (filtrate  B).  Tho 
residual  chloroplatinate  is  dried  within  the  filter  in  a  porcelain  cru- 
cible, which  is  next  heated  so  as  to  char  the  paper  at  the  lowest  tem- 
perature. The  residue  is  then  ignited  gently  in  hydrogen,  and  from 
the  resulting  residue  tlie  chloride  of  potassium  is  extracted  by  water, 
to  be  determined  as  chloroplatinate,  as  shown  in  (1),  or  otherwise. 
From  the  undissolved  residue  the  charcoal  is  burned  away  and  the 
residual  platinum  weighed  to  check  the  potassium  determination. 
After  removal  of  the  ether  and  alcohol  from  filtrate  A  by  dis- 
tillation, the  two  filtrates  A  and  B  are  mixed,  evajioratcd  to  dry- 
ness, the  ammonia  salts  chased  away  by  heating,  and  tho  residue 
is  reduced  (at  about  300°  C. )  in  hydrogen  to  bring  the  platinum  into 
the  form  of  metal,  from  which  the  magnesia  and  alkali  salts  are 
easily  dissolved  away  by  means  of  water  or  dilute  acid.  The  whole 
of  the  salts  are  then  made  into  neutral  sulphate,-  which  is  weighed 
and  then  dissolved  in  a  known  weight  of  water.  The  lithium  and 
the  magnesium  arc  determined  in  aliquot  parts  of  the  solution  and 
calculated  as  sulphates.  Tho  soda  is  found  by  difference.  A  case 
intermediate  between  (1)  and  (2)  often  presents  itself  in  practice. 
We  refer  to  the  commercial  muriate  from  Stassfurt  In  such  an 
impure  muriate  the  potassium  can  be  determined  promptly  and 
accurately  by  adding  to  tho  very  concentrated  solution  of  tlie 
substance  a  large  excess  of  a  very  concentrated  solution  of  chloro- 
platinic acid, — "excess"  meaning  more  platinum  than  necessary 
to  make  all  the  metals  into  chloroplatinates.  Tlie  precipitate  is 
allowed  to  settle,  collected  on  a  small  filter,  and  washed,  first 
with  successive  instalments  of  a  platinum  solution  (containing  5 
per  cent  of  metal),  then  with  orcunai-y  alcohol ;  it  is  next  dried, 
and  weighed  as  abovQ  (Tatlock's  method  .slightly  modified).  In 
exact  analyses  the  small  quantity  of  potassium  which  passes  into 
the  filtrato  is  recovered — ultimately  oy  Finkener's  method — and 
allowed  for.  (W.  D.) 

POTATO.  The  potato  {Solanum  tuherosrim)  is  too  well 
known  to  need'  detailed  de.?criiition.  It  owes  its  value 
to  tho  peculiar  habit  of  developinj;  underground  slender 
leafless  shoots  or  branches  which  dilTer  in  character  and 
office  from  the  true  roots,  and  which  gradually  swell  at 
tho  free  end  and  thus  produce  tho  tubers  with  which  wo 
are  so  familiar.  The  natiu-o  of  these  tubers  is  fiiitjier 
rendered  evident  by  tho  presence  of  "  eyes "  or  leaf-buds, 
which  in  duo  timo  lengthen  into  shoots  and  form  tho 
haulm  or  stems  of  the  plant.'  Such  buds  are  not,  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  formed  on  roots,  '\\niat  the 
detOTmining  cause  of  the  formation  of,  thojtubcrs  may  bo 


594 


POTATO 


is  not  known  ;  the  object  evident!)'  is  to  secure  a  method 
of  propagation  independently  of  the  seed.  Starch  and 
other  matters  are  stored  up  in  the  tubers,  as  in  the 
perisjierm  of  a  seed,  and  in  due  season  are  rendered  avail- 
able for  the  nutrition  of  the  young  shoots  when  they 
begin  to  grow.  The  young  shoots,  in  fact,  derive  their 
nourishment  from  the  parent  tuber  until  by  the  produc- 
tion of  roots  and  leaves  thej'  are  enabled  to  shift  for 
themselves.  When  grown  under  natural  circumstances 
(without  being  earthed  ur>.  as  is  iisiially  done  by  the 
cultivator)  the  tubers  are  relative!)'  small  and  close  to  the 
surface  of  the  soil,  or  even  lis  upon  it.  In  the  latter  case 
they  becc  me  green  and  have  an  acrid  taste,  which  would 
probably  render  them  objectionable  to  predatory  animals 
or  insects,  and  which  certainly  renders  them  unpalatable 
to  human  beings,  and,  in  consideration  of  the  known 
poisonous  qualities  of  many  Solanacex,  might  probably 
cause  them  to  be  unwholesome.  Hence  the  recommenda- 
tion to  keep  the  tubers  in  cellars  or  pits,  not  exposed  to 
the  light,  for  the  green  colouring  matter  is,  in  this  case, 
developed  in  the  tubers  independently  of  the  direct  action 
of  light  on  the  leaves.  Among  the  six  hundred  species  of 
Solatium  less  than  a  dozen  have  this  property  of  forming 
tubers,  but  similar  growths  are  formed  at  the  ends  of  the 
shoots  of  the  common  bramble,  of  the  Convolvulus  sepium, 
of  the  Helimithus  tuherosus,  the  so-called  Jerusalem  arti- 
choke, of  Sa^ittarirt,  and  other  plants.  Tubers  are  also 
sometimes  formed  on  aerial  branches,  as  in  some  Aroids, 
Begonias,  &c. "  The  production  of  small  green  tubers  on 
the  haulm,  in  the  axils  of  the  leaves  of  the  potato,  is 
not  very  unfrequent,  and  affords  an  interesting  proof  of 
the  true  morphological  nature  of  the  underground  shoots 
and  tubers.  The  so-called  fir-cone  potatoes,  which  are 
elongated  and  provided  with  scales  at  more  or  less  regular 
intervals,  show  also  very  clearly  that  the  tuber  is  only  a 
thickened  branch  with  •'  eyes  "  set  in  regular  order,  as  in 
an  ordinary  shoot.  The  j^otato  tuber  consists  mainly  of 
a  mass  of  cells  filled  with  starch  and  encircled  bj'  a  thin 
corky  rind.  A  few  vessels  and  woody  fibres  traverse  the 
tubers. 

The  chief  value  of  the  potato  as  an  article  of  diet 
consists  in  the  starch  it  contains,  and  to  a  less  extent  in 
the. potash  and  other  salts.  The  quantity  of  nitrogen  in 
its  composition  is  small,  and  hence  it  should  not  be  relied 
on  to  constitute  tlie  staple  article  of  diet,  unless  in 
admixture  with  milk  or  some  other  substance  containing 
nitrogen.  Letheby  gives  the  following  as  the  average 
composition  of  the  potato — 


Niti'ogenous  matters     2  -1 

Starch,  £c 18-S 

Sugar 3  2 

Fat 0-2 


Saline  matter     07 

"Water    750 

100-0 


— a  result  which  approximates  closely  to  the  average  of 
nineteen  analyses  cited  in  How  Crops  Groio  from  Grouven. 
In  some  analyses,  however,  the  starch  is  put  as  low  as 
13'30,  and  the  nitrogenous  matter  as  0'92  (Deherain, 
Coursde  Chintie  Agrkole,  p.  159).  Boussingault  gives 
25-2  per  cent,  of  starch  and  3  per  cent,  of  nitrogenous 
matter.  Warington  states  that  the  proportion  of  nitro- 
genous to  non-nitrogenous  matter  in  the  digestible  part 
of  potatoes  is  as  1  to  10-6.  The  composition  of  the 
tubers  evidently  varies  according  to  season,  soils,  manur- 
ing, the  variety  grown,  etc.,  but  the  figures  cited  will  give 
a  sufficiently  accurate  idea  of  it.  The  "  ash  "  contains  on 
the  average  of  tlurty-one  analyses  as  much  as  59'8  per 
cent,  of  potash,  and  19'1  per  cent,  of  phosphoric  acid, 
the  other  ingredients  being  in  very  minute  proportion. 
Where,  as  in  some  parts  of  northern  Germany,  the  potato 
is  grown  for  the  purpose  of  manufacturing  spirit  great 
attention  is  necessarily  paid  to  the  quantitative  analysis  of 


the  starchy  and  saccharine  matters,  which  are  found  to 
vary  much  in  particular  varieties,  irrespective  of  the  c«i- 
ditions  under  which  they  are  groii\Ti 

The  origin  and  history  of  the  potato  are  better  kno".?n 
than  in  the  case  of  many  long-cultivated  plants.  It  is 
to  the  Sj^aniards  that  we  owe  this  valuable  esculett, 
"optimum  benigni  Numinis  donum,  dapes  grata  divVd, 
pauperi  panis,"  as  it  has  been  called  by  an  eminnat 
botanist.  The  Spaniards  met  with  it  in  the  neighbourhcod 
of  Quito,  where  it  was  cultivated  by  the  natives.  In  the 
Ci-onica  de  Peru  of  Pedro  Cie^a,  published  at  Seville  in 
1553,  as  well  as  in  other  Spanish  books  of  about  the  same 
date,  the  potato  is  mentioned  under  the  name  "  battata " 
or  "  papa."  Hieronymus  Cardan,  a  monk,  is  supposed  to 
have  been  the  first  to  introduce  it  from  Peru  into  Spain, 
from  which  country  it  passed  into  Italy  and  thence  into 
Belgium.  Carl  Sprengel,  cited  by  Professor  Edward 
Morren  in  his  biographical  sketch  entitled  Charles  de 
I'Eschtse,  so,  Vie  et  ses  CEiivres,  and  to  which  we  are  indebted 
for  some  of  the  historical  details  given  below,  states  that 
the  potato  was  introduced  from  Santa  FS  into  England 
by  John  Hawkins  in  1563  {Garten  Zeitung,  1805,  p.  346). 
If  this  be  so,  it  is  a  question  whether  the  English  and 
not  the  Spaniards  are  not  entitled  to  the.  credit  of  the 
first  introduction  ;  but,  according  to  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  the 
plant  brought  by  Drake  and  Hawkins  was  not  our  potato 
but  the  Sweet  Potato  (see  below). 

In  1587  or  1588  De  I'EscIuse,  better  Joiown  under  the 
Latinized  appellation  of  "  Clusius,"  received  the  plant  fro^ni 
Philippe  de  Sivry,  lord  of  Waldheim  and  governor  of  Mons, 
who  in  his  turn  received  it  from  soqie  member  of  the  suite 
of  the  papal  legate.  At  the  discovery  of  America,  we  are 
told  by  Humboldt,  the  plant  was  cultivated '  in  all  the 
temperate  parts  of  the  continent  from  Cliili  to  New 
Granada,  but  not  in  Mexico.  Nearly  a  hundred  years 
afterwards,  in  1585  or  1586,  potato  tubers  were  brought 
from  North  Carolina  and  Virginia  to  Ireland  on  the  return 
of  the  colonists  sent  out  by  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh,  and  were 
first  cidtivated  on  Sir  Walter's  estate  near  Cork.  The 
tubers  introduced  under  the.auspices  of  Raleigh  were  thus 
imported  a  few  years  later  than  those  mentioned  by 
Clusius  in  1588,  wliich  must  have  been  in  cultivation  in 
Italy  and  Spain  for  some  years  prior  to  that  time.  Be 
this  as  it  may,  the  earliest  representation  of  tlie  plant  is 
to  be  found  in  Gerard's  Herlal,  published  in  1597.  Tje 
plant  is  mentioned  under  the  name  Papus  07-bicu'atus  in 
the  first  edition  of  the  Catalogvs  of  the  same  auth'.c, 
published  in  1596,  and  again  in  the  second  edition,  whi  ^ 
was  dedicated  to  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh  (1599).  It  is,  hcsr- 
ever,  in  the  Herbal  that  we  find  the  first  description  of  t  {le 
potato,  accompanied  by  a  woodcut  sufficiently  correct  to 
leave  no  doubt  whatever  as  to  the  identity  of  the  plai  fiJ. 
In  this  work  (p.  781)  it  is  called  "Battata  Virginiaua 
sive  Virginianorum,  et  Pappus,  Potatoes  of  Virginia" 
Gerard  says — 

"Theroote  is  thicke.fat  andtuterous  ;  not  much  differing eitler 
in  shape,  colour  or  taste  from  the  common  Potatoes,  saving  tl  at 
tlie  rootes  hereof  are  not  so  great  nor  long ;  some  of  them  as  roui^d 
as  a  ball,  some  ouall  or  egge-fasliion,  some  longer  and  others 
shorter;  wliich  knobtie  rootes  are  fastened  unto  the  stalks  with  an 
infinite  number  of  threddie  strings.  ...  It  groweth  naturally  in 
America  where  it  was  first  discovered,  as  reporteth  C.  Clusius,  siiice 
which  time  I  have  received  rootes  hereof  from  Virginia  otherwise 
called  Norembega  which  gvowe  and  prosper  in  my  garden,  as  in 
their  owne  native  countrie." 

The  "common  Potatoes"  of  which  Gerard  speaks  are 
the  tubers  of  CMvolmdits  batatas,  the  Sweet  Potato,  which 
nowadays  would  not  in  Great  Britain  be  spoken  of  aa 
common.  Evidently  the  author  attached  great  importance, 
to  the  potato,  for  in  the  frontispiece  to  his  volume  he  is 
represented  with  the  flower  and  foliage  of  the  plant  ic 
his  hand.    In  his  opinion  it  was,  like  the  common  potato 


POTATO 


595 


"  a  foode  as  also  a  meate  for  pleasure  equall  in  gooanesse 
and  wholesomenesse  unto  the  same,  being  eitlier  rested  in 
the  embers,  or  boiled  and  eaten  with  oile,  vinegar  and 
pepper,  or  dressed  any  other  way  by  the  hand  of  some 
cunning  in  cookerie."  A  second  edition  of  the  Herbal  was 
published  in  1636  by  Thomas  Johnson,  with  a  different 
illustration  from  that  given,  in  the  first  edition,  and  one 
which  in  some  respects,  as  in  showing  the  true  nature  of 
the  tuber,  is  superior  to  the  first.  The  phenomenon  of 
growing  out  or  "  super-tuberation  "  is  shown  in  this  cut. 

Previous  to  this  (in  1629)  Parkinson,  the  friend  and 
associate  of  Johnson,  had  published  his  Paradisus,  in  which 
(p.  517)  he  gives  an  indifierent  figure  of  the  potato  under 
the  name  of  Papas  seu  Battatas  Virginianorum,  and  adds 
details  as  to  the  method  of  cooking  the  tubers  which 
seem  to  indicate  that  they  were  still  luxuries  rather  than 
necessaries.  Chabrseus,  who  wrote  in  1666,  tells-  us  that 
the  Peruvians  made  bread  from  the  tubers,  which  they 
called  "chunno."  He  further  tells  us  that  by  the  natives 
"  Vtrr/iniea:  imulx  "  the  plant  was  called  "  openauk,"  and 
that  it  is  now  known  in'  European  gardens,  but  he  makes 
no  mention  of  its  us«  as  an  esculent  vegetable,  and,  in- 
deed, includes  it  among  "plantiB  malignje  et  venenatse." 
Heriot  (De  Bry's  Collection  of  Voyages),  in  his  report  on 
Virginia,  describes  &  plant  under  the  same  name  "with 
roots  as  large  as  a  walnut  and  others  much  larger ;  they 
grow  in  damp  soil,  many  hanging  together  as  if  fixed  on 
ropes  ;  they  are  good  food  either  boiled  or  roasted."  The 
plant  (which  is  not  a  native  of  Virginia)  was  probably 
introduced  there  in  consequence  of  the  intercoui'se  of  the 
early  settlers  with  the  Spaniards,  who  derived  the  plant 
from  Peru  or  other  parts  of  South  America,  and  perhaps 
provisioned  their  ships  with  its  tubers.  In  any  case  the 
cultivation  of  the  potato  in  England  made  but  little  pro- 
gress, even  though  it  was  strongly  urged  by  the  Eoyal 
Society  in  1663 ;  and  not  much  more  than  a  century  has 
elapsed  since  its  cultivation  en  a  large  scale  became  general. 

The  source  of  the  potato  being  known,  it  is  a  matter  of 
interest  to  determine  the  particular  species  from  which  the 
cultivated  forms  have  descended  and  the  exact  part  of  the 
great  American  continent  in  which  it  is  indigenous.  As 
to  the  first  point,  botanists  are  agreed  that  the  only  species 
in  general  cultivation  in  Great  Britain  is  the  one  which 
Bauhin,  in  his  Phytopinax,  p.  89  (1596),  called  Solamtm 
tuberoswn  esculciitum,  a  name  adopted  by  Linnreus  (omit- 
ting the  last  epithet),  and  employed  by  all  botanical  writers. 
This  species  is  native  in  Chili,  but  it  is  very  doubtful  if  it 
is  truly  wild  farther  north.  Mr  Baker  {Journal  of  the 
Linnean  Society,  vol.  xx.,  188-1,  p.  -iSO)  has  reviewed  the 
tuber-bearing  species  of  Solanum  from  a  systematic  point 
of  view  as  well  as  from  that  of  geographical  distribution. 
Out  of  twenty  so-called  species  he  considers  six  to  be 
really  distinct,  while  the  others  are  merely  synonymous 
or  trifling  variations.  The  si.i  admitted  tuber-bearing 
species  are  .S".  tuberosum,  S  Maglia,  S.  Commei-sotii,  S. 
cardiophyllum,  S.  Jame^ii,  and  S.  oxycarpum. 

S.  tuberosum  i,s,  according  to  Mr  Baker,  a  native  not  only  of- 
the  Andes  of  Chili  liut  aiao  of  tlioso  of  Peru,  Bolivia,  Ecuador, 
and  Colombia,  also  of  the  mountains  of  Costa  Eica,  Jlcxico,  and 
tho  south-western  United  States.  It  eeems  most  probable,  liow- 
eyer,  that  some  at  least  of  tho  plants  mentioned  in  the  northern 
part  of  the  American  coutuient  have  no  claim  to  bo  considered 
absolutely  -wild,  but  are  tho  descendants  of  cultivated  forms.  S. 
Maglia  is  a  native  of  the  Chilian  coast  as  far  south  as  tho  Chonos 
Archipelago,  and  was  cultivated  in  the  garden  of  tho  Horticultural 
Society  at  Chiswick  in  1822,  being  considered  by  Sabine,  in  his 
paper  on  tho  native  country  of  the  wild  potato,  to  be  the  true 
S.  tuberosum  and  tho  origin  of  tlio  cultivated  forms.  This  species 
was  also  found  by  Darwin  in  Chili,  and  was  considered  by  him,  as 
by  Sabine  before  him,  to  be  tho  wild  potato.  It  is  remarkable, 
says  Darwin,  that  tho  same  plant  should  be  found  in  the  sterile 
mountains  cf  ceutral  Chili,  where  ii  drop  of  rain  does  not  fall  for 
ttora  than  six  mouths,  and  w-ithin   tho  damp  forests  of  tUeae 


southern  (Chonos)  islands.  The  explanation,  according  to  Baker, 
is  that  the  plant  or  the  dry  mountains'  is  S.  tuberosum,  that  of  the 
coast  is  S.  Maglia.  It  must,  however,  be  stated  that,  although 
Jlr  Baker  refers  to  the  plants  figured  by  Sabine  {Trans.  Eort.  Sac. 
Lend.,  vol.  V.  p.  249)  as  being  without  doubt  S.  Maglia,  A.  de 
CandoUe  {Origin<!  des  Plantes  cullivdcs,  p.  40)  is  equally  emphatic 
in  the  opinion,  "ce  qui  saute  aux  yeux,"  that  the  plant  grown 
from  Chilian ,  tubers  and  figured  in  the  plate  before  cited  is  S. 
tuberosum.  S.  Commcrsoni  xc'vrs  in  Uruguay,  Buenos  Ayres,  and 
tho  Argentine  Republic,  in  rocky  situations  at  a  low  level.  Under 
the  name  of  S.  Ohrondii  it  has  lately  been  introduced  into  western 
France,  where  it  is  not  only  hardy  but  produces  abundance  oi 
tubers,  which  are  palatable,  but  have  a  slightly  acid  taste.  The 
tubers  give  promise  of  improvement  under  cultivation.  S.  cardio- 
phylluvi,  described  by  Lindley  in  tho  Jour^ial  of  the  Horticultural 
Society,  is  a  native  of  the  mountains  of  central  Mexico  at  elevations 
of  8000  to  9000  feet.  S.  Jamesii  is  a  well-de6ned  species  occuiTing 
in  the  mountains  of  Colorado,  New  Mexico,  and  Arizona,  and  also 
in  Mexico.  In  a  wild  state  the  tubers  are  not  larger  than  marbles, 
but  as  the  plant  is  now  in  cultivation  in  England  if  may  be 
expected  to  improve  in  this  particular.  S.  oxycarpum  is  stated 
by  Mr  Baker  to  be  a  little  known  but  verv  distinct  tuberous  species 
from  central  Mexico.^ 

Mr  Baker  looks  upon  the  forms  enumerated  not  only 
Sv-ith  the  eye  of  a  systematic  botanist  but  'vrith  the 
tendencies  of  one  whose  object  is  to  assign  varying  forma 
to  one  common  type  from  which  they  have,  or  may 
probably  have,  arisen.  But  from  a  practical  point  of  view 
the  forms  in  question  require  careful  analysis  rather  than 
synthesis.  Their  morphological  peculiarities  and  chemical 
constitution  deserve  attentive  consideration  as  to  their 
degree  of  constancy,  and  more  particularly  as  to  any 
relation  that  may  be  traced  between  them  and  the  climatic 
circumstances  under  which  they  grow  naturally,  and  their 
power  of  resistance  to  the  attacks  of  disease.  A  revie'W 
of  the  localities  in  which  the  presence  of  S.  tuberosum 
and  its  tuber-bearing  allies  has  been  ascertained  showa 
that,  broadly,  these  varieties  may  be  divided  into  moun- 
tainous and  littoral.  In  either  case  they  would  not  be 
subjected,  at  least  in  their  gro-wing  season,  to  the  same 
extremes  of  heat,  cold,  and  drought  as  plants  growing  on 
inland  plains.  Again,  those  forms  growing  at  a  high 
elevation  would  probably  start  into  growth  later  in  the 
season  than  those  near  the  coast.  The  significance  of 
these  facts  from  a  cultural  point  of  view  is  twofold :  for, 
while  a  late  variety  is  desirable  for  culture  in  Great 
Britain,  as  ensuring  more  or  less  immunity  from  spring 
frost,  which  would  injure  the  early  sorts,  it  is,  on  the 
other  hand,  undesirable,  because  late  varieties  are  more 
liable  to  be  attacked  by  the  potato  disease,  which  as  a 
rule  makes  its  appearance  at  or  about  the  time  when  the 
earliest  varieties  are  ready  for  lifting,  but  before  the  late 
varieties  are  matured,  and  consequently  while  they  are 
still  exposed  to  the  destructive  influences  of  the  fungus. 

'  Although  these  six  are  the  only  species  admitted  as  such  by 
Mr  Baker,  it  is  well  to  note  some  of  tho  forms  or  varieties,  because, 
although  they  may  not  bo  entitled  to  specific  rank,  which  after  all  is  a 
matter  of  opiuion,  they  may  yet  be  of  importance  iu  tho  future.  First 
of  all  may  be  mentioned  the  S.  ctiiberosiim  of  Lindley,  difl"ei-ing  from 
the  common  &  tuberosum  in  not  producing  tubers.  This  was  found 
in  Chili,  and  is  probably  not  specifically  distinct,  although  cxceptionnl, 
for  it  is  by  no  meaus  very  unusual  to  find  even  cultivated  plauts  pro- 
duce no  tubers.  <S.  Feruamleuianum  is,  according-to  Baker,  a  form  of 
S.  tuberosum,  but  if  so  its  liabitat  in  the  mountain  woods  of  Juan 
Fernandez  is  climatically  dilTercnt  frorai  that  in  the  dry  mountains  of 
central  Cliili,  where,  as  we  have  seen,  the  true  <S.  tuberosum  stows. 
jS  o(i'(m  was -found  recently  by  M.  Andre'  on  the  summit  of  Quiudiu  in 
Colombia,  at  a  height  of  11,483  feet,  in  a  rigorous  climate,  only  about 
3300  feet  below  the  perpetual  snows  of  Tolima.  It  produces  tubers 
of  the  size  of  a  nut.  5.  AndTeanum,  foimd  by  M.  Andrd  nt  Cauca, 
at  an  elevation  of  6234  feet,  was  considered  by  the  trnvellor  to  bo  the 
true  S,  tuberosum,  but  this  view  is  not  shared  by  Mr  Baker,  who 
named  it  after  tho  discoverer.  Its  tubers,  if  it  produces  any,  have  not 
been  seen.  S,  immite  is  probably  only  a  slight  variety  of  5.  tuberosum, 
as  are  also  the 'Venezuelan  .S  colombinnum,  S.  ^vrrucosum,  S.  Jemissum, 
and  S.  tttile.  S.  Fendleri,  a  native  of  tho  mountains  of  Now  .Mexico 
and  Arizona,  was  considered  b/Asa  Gray  to  be  likewise  a  form  of 
&  tubcrosiw  * 


596 


POTATO 


In  cultivation '  the  potato  varies  very  greatly  not  only 
as  to  tlie  season  of  its  growth  but  also  as  to  productive- 
ness, the  vigour  and  luxuriance  of  its  foliage,  the  presence 
or  relative  absence  of  hairs,- the  form  of' the  leaves,  the 
size  and  colour  of  the  flowers,  ifcc.     It  is  probable  that 
a  more  careful  investigation  of  these  peculiarities,   and 
especially  of  those  connected  with  the  microscopical  ana- 
tomy of  the  leaves,  would  give  serviceable  indications  of 
the  varieties  most  or  least  susceptible  to  the  disease, — 
a  point  at  present  hardly  if  at  all  attended  to.     As  to 
the  tubers,  they  vary  greatly  in  size,  form,  and  colour ; 
gardeners  divide  them  into  rounded  forms  and  long  forms 
or  "kidneys";  "lapStones"  are  more  or  less  flattened; 
and  "  pebble "  varieties  are  long  potatoes  broader  at  one 
end'  than  at  the  other.     The  colour  of  the  rind,  yellowish, 
bro^Ti,  or  purple,  furnishes  distinctions,  as  does  the  yellow 
or  white  colour  of  the  flesh.     The  colour  of  the  eyes  and 
their  prominence  or  depression  are  relatively  very  constant 
characteristics.     These  variations  have  originated  chiefly 
by  cross-breeding,  but  not  invariably  so,  as  some  varieties 
rarely,  if  ever,  produce  flowers  in  Britain,  and  yet  "  Sports  " 
have  been  observed  in  their  tubers  and  have  become  the 
parents  of  new  varieties.     Various  methods  have  been  pro- 
posed for  the  prevention  or  arrest  of  the  ravages  of  the 
fungus  which  causes  the  "  potato  disease  "  (see  below).     In 
addition  to  different  modes  of  cultivation,  attempts  have 
been  made  to  secure  varieties  less  liable  than  others  to 
disease,  and,  although  no  great  measure  of  siaccess  has 
been  attained,  still  the  matter  is  not  without  promise, 
seeing  how  the  early  varieties,  as  before  stated,  escape  the 
full  virulence  of  the  malady.     Other  attempts  have  been 
made  to  infuse  a  hardier  constitution  by  hybridizing  the 
potato  with   hardy  species    such    as  S.   Dulcamara   and 
S.  nip-Hm.    Hybrids  were  accordingly  raised  by  Mr  !Maule, 
but  they  all  suffered  from  the  disease  as  much  as  the 
parents,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  hybrids  raised 
between  the  common  potatoes  and  some  of  the  six  species 
mentioned  by  Mr  Baker  may  suffer  a  like  fate.     This, 
however,  remains  to  be  proved.     Mr  Maule,  disappointed 
with  his  hybridization  experiments,  then  tried  the  effect 
of  grafting.     With  this  view  he  grafted  S.  nigrum  o\  to 
a  shoot   of   the  potato.     New  tubers  were   formed,  the 
foliage  being  wholly  that  of  S.  hignim.     In  another  ex- 
periment he  grafted  the  potato  on  to  S.  Dulcamara.     In 
one  case  tubers  were  produced  on  the  graft  (the  potato), 
but  none  on  the  Dulcamara  stock,  either  above  or  below 
gi-ound,  while  in  another  case  tubers  were  actually  pro- 
duced  on  the    underground    portions   of    S.   Dulcamara. 
Mr  Maule's  experiments  were  most   ingenious,   but  the 
theory  he  gave  in  his   The  Potato,  what  is  it  7  (Bristol, 
1876)  ■n-ill  not  commend  itself  to  physiologists,  and  there 
is  no  evidence  to  show  whether  the  grafts  he  obtained 
were  attacked  by  the  parasite  or  even  whether  they  had 
a  chance,  of  being  so.     Mr  Maule's  experiments,  especi- 
ally the  one  last  mentioned,  afford  confirmation  of  the 
possibility  of  graft  hybridization  being  effected.     Various 
experimenters,  especially  Mr  Fenn,  have  asserted  that  by 
engrafting  ?n  eye  of  one  variety  into  the  tuber  of  another, 
not  only  will  adhesion  take  place  but  the  new  tubers  will 
present  great  variety  of  character;  and  this  indeed  Seems  to 
be  the  case  from  the  numerous  specimens  shown  by  Mr 
Fenn  at  the  Royal  Horticultural  Society,  but  it  can  hardly 
he  considered  as  established  that  the  variations  in  question 
were  the  result  of  any  commingling  of  the  essences  of  the 
two  varieties.     The  wound  may  simply  have  set  up  that 
variation  in  the  buds  the  occasional  existence  of  which 
has  been  already  noted.     The  last-cited  experiment  of  iMr 
Maule's,  however,  is  much  more  conclusive.     Mr  A.  Dean 
also  (Gardeners'  Chronicle,  2d  September  1876,  p.  304) 
'  See  HoBTictll.TCBE.  vol.  xii.  p.  286. 


succeeded  in  graftmg  the  potato  on  to  the  tomato,  with 
the  result  that,  although  no  tubers  were  found  on  the  root 
of  the  tomato,  numerous  tubers  were  produced  on  the  sides 
of  the  branches  of  the  potato.  Another  experiment  may 
be  here  mentioned  as  throwing  light  on  the  formation  of 
tubers,  one  wherein  Mr  Burbidge  observed  the  production 
of  tubers  at  the  portion  of  an  ordinary  cutting  of  S.  Com- 
mersoni  inserted  in  the  soil.'.  In  this  case  no  tubers  were 
formed  above  ground.  (u.  T.  M.) 

Potato  _  Disease. 

There  are  few  agricultural  subjects  of  greater  importance 
than  the  culture  of  the  potato  and  the  losses  entailed  by 
potato  disease.  The  number  of  acres  in  Great  Britaii) 
alone  under  cultivation  for  potatoes  is  generally  more  than 
half  a  million  (543,455  in  1883,  562,344  in  1884);  the 
average  weight  of  the  produce  per  acre  may  be  taken  at 
five  tons,  the  average  price  about  £5  per  ton,  so  that  the 
commercial  value  of  each  year's  crop  commonly  ranges 
between  £13,000,000  and  £15,000,000.  It  is  not  unusual 
in  bad  seasons  for  a  single  grower  to  lose  from  £1000 
to  £1500  through  disease^;  for  the  market  grower  some- 
times not  only  loses  the  entire  produce,  or  nearly  so,  but 
loses  also  the  value  of  the  seed,  the  guano,  the  farm-yard 
manure,  the  rent,  and  the  labour.  Growers  sometimes 
lose  £30  per  acre  in  one  season,  for,  exclusive  of  the  dis- 
eased produce,  £10  may  be  put  down  to  guano  and  dung, 
£4,  10s.  to  rent,  tithes,  and  taxes,  £6,  10s.  for  seed,  and 
£2  for  digging ;  added  to  this  there  are  ploughing,  har- 
rowing, overlooking,  earthing  up,  sacks,  carriage  to  and 
fro,  and  many  minor  expenses.  The  losses  range  in  amount 
according  to  the  virulence  and  general  extent  of  the  dis- 
ease. In  extreme  cases  every  tuber  is  lost,  as  the  produce 
will  not  even  pay  the  cost  of  lifting.  The  year  of  the 
great  potato  famine  in  Britain  was  1845,  but  the  Rev,  M. 
J.  Berkeley,  in  his  famous  essay  on  the  potato  murrain 
published  by  the  Royal  Horticultural  Society  of  England 
in  1846,  stated  that  a  very  serious  disease  of  the  potato 
named  the  "  curl "  had  at  that  time  been  known  in  Britain 
for  more  than  half  a  century.  We  now  know  that  the 
"curl"  is  a  condition  of  the  true  potato  murrain.  Ab  a 
rule,  although  there  are  a  few  exceptions,  the  disease 
occurs  wherever  the  potato  is  grown.  It  is  known  in  South 
America,  in  the  home  of  the  potato  plant. 

The  disease  of  potatoes  b  caused  by  the  growth  of  a 
fungvis  named  Peronospora  infestans,  Mont.,  within  tlie 
tissues  of  tlie  host  plant,  and  this  fimgus  has  the  peculiar 
property  of  piercing  and  breaking  up  the  cellular  tissues, 
and  setting  up  putrescence  in  the  course  of  its  growth. 
The  parasite,  which  has  a  somewhat  restricted  range  of 
host  plants,  chiefly  invades  the  potato,  Solanum  tuberosum, 
L. ;  the  bittersweet,  S.  Dulcamara,  L. ;  S.  demissum,  Lind. ; 
and  .S".  cardiophyllum,  Lind.  It  is  also  very  destructive 
to  the  tomato,  Lycopersicfum  esculentum,  Mill.,  and  to  all 
or  nearly  all  the  other  species  oi- Lycopersicum. .  At  times 
if  attacks  petunias  and  even  Scrophulariaceous  plants,  as 
Anthocersis  and  Schizanthtu.  A  second  species  of  Perono- 
spora is  known  on  Solanaceous  plants,  viz.,  P.  Eyoscyami, 
D.By.,  a  parasite  of  the  common  henbane. 

In  England  the  disease  is  generally  first  seen  during 
the  last  ten  days  of  July ;  its  extension  is  greatly  favoured 
by  the  warm  and  showery  weather  peculiar  to  that  period 
of  the  year,  and  according  as  the  warm  and  humid  weather 
of  autumn  is  late  or  early  the  murrain,  varies  a  little  in  its 
time  of  appearancp.  To  the  unaided  eye  the  disease  is 
seen  as  purplish  brown  or  blackish  blotches  of  various 
sizes,  at  first  on  the  tips,  and  edges  of  the  leaves,  and 
ultimately  upon  the  leaf-stalks  and  the  larger  sterna. 
On  gathering  the  foliage  for  .  examination,  especially  in 
humid  weather,  these  dajk  blotches  are  seen  to  be  putrid. 


POTATO 


597 


ind  when  the  disease  takes  a  bad  form  the  dying  leaves 
:ive  out  a  highly  offensive  odour.  The  fungus,  which  is 
•hiefly  within  the  leaves  and  stems,  seldom  emerges 
;hrough  the  firm  upper  surface  of  the  leaf ;  it  commonly 
ippears  as  a  white  bloom  or  mildew  on  the  circumference 
:if  the  disease-patches  on  the  under  surface.  It  grows 
within  the  tissues  from  central  spots  towards  an  ever- 

xtending  circumference,  carrying  putrescence  in  its  course. 
Vs  the  patches  extend  in  size  by  the  growth  of  thfe  fungus 
they  at  length  become  confluent,  and  so  the  leaves  are 
ilestroyed  and  an  end  is  put  to  one  of  the  chief  vital 
functions  of  the  host  plant.  On  the  destruction  of  the 
leaves  the  fungus  either  descends  the  stem  by  the  interior 
or  the  spores  are  washed  by  the  rain  to  the  tubers  in  the 
.,'round.     In  either  case  the  tubers  are  reached  by  the 

iingus  or  its  spores,  and  so  become  diseased.  The  fungus 
which  undoubtedly  causes  the  mischief  is  very  small  in 
size,  and  under  the  microscope  appears  slightly  whitish  or 
colourless.  The  highest  powers  are  reqxured  to  see  all  parts 
of  the  parasite. 

The  accompanying  illustration,  drawn  from  nature,  shows  the 
habit  and  structure  of  the  funOTSj  Peronospora  in/esta-ns,  Mont. 
The  letters'.A  B  show  a  vertical  section  through  a  fragment  of  a 


Peronospora  infestans,  Mont. — Fungus  of  Potato  Disease. 


potato  leaf,  enlarged  100  diameters ;  A  is  the  upper  surface  line, 
and  B  the  lower  ;  the  lower  surface  of  the  leaf  is  shown  at  the  top, 
the  better  to  exhibit  the  nature  of  the  fungus  growths.  Between 
A  and  B  the  loose  cellular  tissue  of  which  the  leaf  is  partly  built 
up  is  seen  in  section,  and  at  C  the  vertical  palUsade  cells  which 
give  firmness  to  the  upper  sui-face  of  the  leaf.  Amongst  the  minute 
spherical  cells  within  the  substance  of  the  leaf  numerous  transparent 
thrtads  are  shown  ;  these  are  the  mycelial  threads  or  spawn  of  the 
fungus ;  wherever  they  touch  the  leaf-cells  they  pierce  or  break 
down  the  tissue,  and  so  set  up  decomposition,  as  indicated  by  the 
ilarker  shading.  The  lower  surface  of  the  potato  leaf  is  furnished 
\rith  numerous  organs  of  transpiration  or  stomata,  which  are 
narrow  orifices  opening  into  the  leaf  and  from  which  moisture  is 
transpired  in  the  form  of  fine  vapour.  Out  of  these  small  openings 
the  fungus  threads  emerge,  as  shown  at  D,  D,  D.  MTion  the 
threads  reach  the  air  they  branch  in  a  tree-like  manner,  and  each 
branch  carries  one  or  more  ovate  reproductive  bodies  termed 
spores"  or  "conidia,"  bodies  roughly  comparable  with  seeds,  as 
•hown  at  E,  E,  E.  Sometimes  other  reproductive  bodies  roughly 
comparable  with  the  anthers  and  pistils  of  flowering  plants  are 
borne  inside  the  leaf,  stem,  or  tuber,  as  at  F  ;  the  larger  body  of 
these  is  female,  and  is  termed  an  "oogonium,"  and  the  smaller, 
^hich  at  length  pierces  the  oogonium,  is  male,  and  is  termed  an 


"  antheridium."  When  the  spores  or  conidia  are  magnified  400 
diameters  they  are  seen  as  at  F',  and  the  contained  protoplasm 
often  breaks  up  into  a  definite  number  of  parts,  as  at  G.  When 
a  spore  like  F  germinates  it  protrudes  an  amoeba-like  mass  of 
protoplasm,  as  shown  at  H,  which  is  capable  of  reproducing  the 
potato  fungus  at  once  ;  and  when  a  differentiated  conidium  as  at 
G  germinates  it  expels  about  eight  minute  mobile  bodies  called 
"zoospores,"  each  zoospore  being  furnished  with  two  extremely 
attenuated  vibrating  hairs  termed  "cilia,"  as  shown  at  J.  These 
zoospores  swim  about  in  any  film  of  moisture,  and  on  going  to  rest 
take  a  spherical  form,  germinate,  and  produce  threads  of  mycelium 
as  at  K  ;  the  my.'elium  from  the  germinating  conidia  or  zoospores 
soon  finds  its  way  into  the  tissues  of  the  potato  leaf  by  the  organs 
of  transpiration,  and  the  process  of  growth  already  described  is  re- 
peated over  and  over  again  till  the  entire  potato  leaf,  or  indeed  the 
whole  plant,  is  reduced  to  putridity. 

The  oogonium  and  antheridium  as  seen  at  F  are  further  enlarged 
to  400  diameters  at  L  ;  it  will  here  be  seen  that  the  smaller  male 
organ  or  antheridium  has  projected  a  fine  beak  through  the  walls 
of  the  oogonium  or  female  organism ;  through  this  beak  some  of  the 
protoplasm  from  the  antheridium  passes  into  and  mingles  with  the 
protoplasm  of  the  oogonium  ;  this  is  the  act  of  fertUization,  and 
an  oospore  or  resting  spore  (M,  N),  a  body  roughly  comparable  with 
a  seed,  is  the  result.  After  fertilization  the  oospores  quickly  drop 
from  their  supporting  threads  and  become  free  like  most  ripo  fruits. 
As  the  potato  lungus  causes  the  potato  to  become  putrid  the  mature 
oospores  or  resting  spores  are  necessarily  confined  to  the  portions  of 
the  potato  plant  which  have  been  destroyed  by  the  fungus,  i.  e.,  either 
to  the  decaj-ed  leaves  or  stems  or  to  the  diseased  tubers  ;  they  are 
brown  in  colour  and  generally  more  or  less  spinulose  or.  warted. 
They  will  not  germinate  tOl  after  a  rest  of  nine,  ten,  or  twelve 
months,  or  in  some  instances  even  two  years.  They  germinate  by 
protruding  threads,  which  speedily  bear  spores  or  conidia  as  at  E, 
or  more  rarely  zoospores  as  at  J.  The  resting  spores  were  seen  by 
Dr  Rayer  and  Dr  Montague  in  1845,  and  named  (in  ignorance  of 
their  true  nature)  Artotrogus  hydnosporus.  The  Rev.  M.  J.  Berkeley 
shortly  afterwards  identified  them  as  the  resting  spores  of  the 
potato  fungus  ;  but  they  were  not  seen  by  any  one  between  the 
years  1845  and  1875,  when  in  the  latter  year  they  were  discovered 
in  great  abundance  and  artificially  produced  from  the  potato  fungus 
by  the  writer  of  this  article.  At  first  believed  to  be  rare,  they  are 
now  known  to  be  amongst  the  commonest  of  vegetable  productions. 
The  potato  fungus  is  easily  made  to  produce  resting  spores,  and 
their  germination  after  a  year's  rest  is  an  observation  of  no  special 
difficulty.  At  one  time  these  resting  spores  were  confused  by 
some  botanists  with  a  little  fugitive  transparent  fungus,  bearing 
oogonia  not  half  the  size  of  the  oogonia  of  Peronospora  infestans, 
and  named  Pylhium  vexans,  D.  By. ;  the  latter  plant  perfects  itself 
in  twenty-four  hours  or  at  most  a  day  or  two,  instead  of  taking  a 
year  or  more  as  do  the  resting  spores  of  the  fungus  of  the  potato 
disease.  Pylhium  vexans  has  no  connexion  wliatever  with  the 
fungus  or  the  potato  disease. 

The  germinating  conidia  of  the  potato  fungus,  as  at  E,  are  not 
only  able  to  pierce  the  leaves  and  stems  of  the  potato  plant,  and  so 
gain  an  entry  to  its  interior  through  the  epidermis,  but  they  are  also 
able  to  pierce  the  bark  of  the  tuber,  especially  in  young  examples. 
It  is  therefore  obvious  that,  if  the  tubers  are  exposed  to  the  air 
where  they  are  liable  to  become  slightly  cracked  by  the  sun,  wind, 
haU,  and  rain,  and  injured  by  small  animals  and  insects,  the  spores 
from  the  leaves  will  drop  on  to  the  tubers,  quickly  genninate  upon 
the  slightly-injured  places,  and  cause  the  potatoes  to  become  dis- 
eased. Earthing  up  therefore  prevents  these  injuries,  but  where 
Practised  to  an  immoderate  extent  it  materially  reduces  the  pro- 
uce  of  tubers.  The  labour  entailed  in  repeated  earthing  up  is 
also  considered  a  serious  objection  to  its  general  adoption. 

All  diseased  potato  material  should  be  gathered  together  and 
either  deeply  buried  or  burnt,  as  the  hibernating  germs  of  the 
disease  (oospores)  rest  in  the  decaying  potato  refuse,  and  the  my- 
celium itself  sometimes  hibernates. 

See  Berkeley's  essay,  "  On  the  Potato  Disease,"  In  Journal  o/Ihe  Royal  Borti- 
cultvral  Society,  vol.  i.,  1846;  Professor  A.  de  Bary,  "On  the  Nature  of  the 
Potato  Funmis,"  in  Journal  of  Royal  Agricultural  Sodely,  vol.  xli.,  187«  ;  E«rl 
Cathcart,  "The  Cultivated  Potato,"  in  Journal  of  Hoy.  Agr.  Soc.,  1S84  ;  J.  0. 
Baker,  "  Tlio  Tuber-bcaring  Species  of  Solatium"  in  journal  of  the  Linrutan 
Society,  vol.  «.,  1884  ;  and  Worthington  O.  Smith,  Dixaaa  of  Field  and  Oardn 
Croj)j(1884).    In  the  latter  work  a  ruil  bibliography  is  given.      (W.  O,  8M.) 

POTATO,  Sweet.  This  plant  (the  Convolvulus  batatas, 
or  Ipomcea  batatas  of  some  authors)  is  generally  culti- 
vated in  the  West  Indies  and  most  tropical  countries  for 
the  sake  of  its  tuberous  root,  which  is  an  article  of  diet 
greatly  in  request.  It  is  a  climbing  perennial  with 
cordate,  entire,  or  palmatcly-lobed  leaves  borno  on  slender 
twining  stems.  .The  flowers  are  borne  on  long  stalks  in 
loose  clusters  or  cymes,  and  have  a  white  or  rosy  funnel- 
shaped  corolla  like  that  of  the  common  bindweed  of  English 
hedges.     The  edible  portion  is  the  root,  which  dilates  into 


598 


P  O  T  — P  O  T 


large  club-shaped  masses  filled  with  starch.  It  is  ill  suited 
to  the  climate  of  the  United  Kingdom,  but  in  tropical 
countries  it  is  as  valuable  as  the  potato  is  in  higher 
latitudes.  The  plant  is  not  kno\vn  in  a  truly  wild  state, 
nor  has  its  origin  been  ascertained.  A.  de  CandoUe  con- 
eludes  that  it  is  in  all  probability  of  American  origin, 
though  dispersed  in  Japan,  China,  the  South  Sea  Islands, 
Australia,  &c.  Its  migrations  are  only  explained  by  him 
on  geological  grounds  of  an  entirely  hypothetical  character. 
It  is  mentioned  by  Gerard  as  the  "  potato,"  or  "  potatus," 
or  "potades"  in  contradistinction  to  the  "potatoes"  of 
Virginia  (Solanum  tuberosum).  He  grew  it  in  his  garden, 
but  the  climate  was  not  warm  enough  to  allow  it  to  flower, 
and  in  winter  it  perished  and  rotted.  But  as  the  appella- 
tion "common"  is  applied  to  them  the  roots  must  have 
been  introduced  commonly.  Gerard  tells  us  he  bought 
those  that  he  planted  at  "  the  Exchange  in  London,"  and 
he  gives  an  interesting  account  of  the  uses  to  which  they 
were  put,  the  manner  in  which  they  were  prepared  as 
"  sweetmeats,"  and  the  invigorating  properties  assigned  to 
them.  The  allusions  in  the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  and 
other  of  Shakespeare's  plays  in  all  probability  refer  to  this 
plant,  and  not  to  what  w^  now  call  the  "  potato." 

POTATO  BEETLE  or  Coloeado  Beetle.     See  Coleo- 
PTERA  (Boryphora  decemlineata),  vol.  vi.  p.  134. 

POTEMKIN,  Geegoey  Axexandeovich  (1739-1791), 
Russian  soldier  and  statesman,  was  born  in  1739  in  the 
village  of  Domnovo,  in  the  government  of  Smolensk.  His 
father  was  a  poor  nobleman  of  Polish  extraction,  but  the 
family  had  been  settled  for  some  time  in  Russia.  Owing 
to  the  slender  means  of  his  parents,  Potemkin's  first  plan 
seems  to  have  been  to  devote  himself  to  the  church ;  but 
he  did  not  show  much  inclination  for  this  profession,  and 
eventually  embraced  the  calling  of  a  soldier.  His  fortunes 
rose  from  the  time  when  he  assisted  the  empress  Catherine 
in  her  conspiracy  against  her  husband  on  the  memorable 
10th  of  July  1762.  On.  this  occasion,  when  Catherine 
rode  through  the  ranks,  Potemkin,  perceiving  that  she 
had  no  plume  in  her  hat,  offered  her  his  own.  Soon 
afterwards  he  became  one  of  the  leading  favourites  and  his 
rise  was  rapid.  We  first  find  him  serving  under  ^Marshal 
Roumantzoff  against  the  Turks,  but,  after  having  spent 
some  time  in  the  camp,  he  returned  to  St  Petersbiirg,  where 
he  became  more  influential  than  ever.  From  1778  till  his 
death  the  foreign  policy  of  Russia  was  almost  entirely  in 
his  hands.  By  his  agency  the  Crimea  was  annexed  in  1 783, 
the  kha;n  being  induced  to  put  himself  under  Russian  pro- 
tection. In  January  1787  the  empress'set  out  with  Potem- 
kin to  survey  her  new  conquests.'  The  descrij)tion  of  this 
journey  and  of  the  fantastic  luxury  which  accompanied  it 
has  been  often  given,  and  need  not  be  recapitulated  here. 
At  Kherson  Catherine  was  met  by  the  emperor  Joseph,  who 
had  travelled  from  Austria  for  that  purpose.  She  there 
passed  "under  a  triumphal  arch,  on  which  was  inscribed, 
in  Greek  letters,  "  The  way  to  Byzantium."  The  empress 
went  as  far  south  as  Bakhchisarai  and  Stari  Krim,  at  which 
point  she  turned  back,  reaching  St  Petersburg  on  the 
22d  of  July.  Soon  afterwards  war  was  declared  against 
Turkey  and  the  siege  of  Otchakoff  commenced  in  July  1 788. 
Here  Potemkin  acted  as  commauder-in-chief,  with  150,000 
men  at  his  disposal,  but  it  is  difiicult  to  say  if  he  had 
any  talent  as  a  soldier,  as  many  able  men,  among  others 
Souwaroff,  served  under  him,  and  he  was  able  to  appropriate 
the  fruits  of  their  labour  and  ability.  According  to  some 
he  showed  military  genius,  according  to  others  he  was 
entirely  destitute  of  it.  He  is  said  to  have  introduced 
some  very  useful  changes  in  the  dress  and  discipline  of 
the  Russian  armies,  Otchakoff  was  taken  in  December 
1788,  with  terrible  slaughter  on  both  sides,  and  was 
followed  bv  the  victories  of  Souwaroff  at  Bender  and  Ismail, 


the  latter  of  which  was  taken  in  1790,  when  Souwaroff  seat 
his  celebrated  couplet  to  Catherine  : 
"Slava  Bogu  !  Slava  Vam  ! 
Krepost  vsiata  i  ya  tam."* 

In  March  1791  Potemkin  made  his  triumphal  entry  into 
St  Petersburg.  The  description  of  the  banquet  which  he 
gave  in  honour  of  the  empress  at  his  Taiu-ian  palace  rival* 
any  scene  of  Oriental  magnificence.  But  his  constitution 
was  now  breaking  ;  his  body  at  a  comparatively  early  age 
was  worn  out  by  his  labours  and  excesses.  Yet  he  refused 
to  have  recourse  to  medicine,  lived  upon  salt  meat  and 
raw  turnips,  and  drank  strong  wines  and  spirits.  In  the 
latter  part  of  the  year  1791  he  went  to  the  south  of 
Russia,  the  scene  of  his  former  triumphs,  and  lay  ill  for 
some  time  at  Jassy,  whence  he  attempted  to  move  to 
Otchakoff,  but  after  travelling  a  few  versts  he  could  no 
longer  endure  the  motion  of  the  carriage.  He  accordingly 
was  lifted  out  and  a  carpet  was  spread  for  him  at  the  foot 
of  a  tree,  upon  which  he  soon  expired  in  the  arms  of  his 
niece.  Countess  Branicka,  on  the  15th  of  October  1791. 
His  body  was  interred  at  Kherson,  but,  from  inquiries 
made  on  the  spot  by  the  traveller  Edward  Clarke  at  the 
commencement  of  the  present  century,  it  seems  to  have 
been  disinterred  and  thrown  into  a  ditch  by  order  of  the 
emperor  Paul,  who  hated  him. 

During  his  lifatime  Potemkin  did  not  escape  the  censure  of  his 
countrymen,  in  proof  of  which  may  be  cited  the  attacks  of  Derzhavin 
and  Radistcheff.  Strange  stories  are  told  of  his  extravagance  and 
whimsicality,  among  others  that  he  had  in  his  library  several 
volumes  of  bank  notes  bound  together.  He  seems  to  have  "  sickened 
of  a  vague  disease  "  in  the  midst  of  all  his  splendour.  His  wealth 
was  boundless,  as,  besides  his  personal  property,  he  had  large  landed 
estates  and  many  thousands  of  serfs.  He  was  arrogant  and  capri- 
cious, a  thorough  despot,  and  a  man  of  grossly  licentious  life.  That 
he  was  possessed  of  some  ability  cannot  be  doubted,  but,  taking 
him  all  in  all,  we  must  say  that  the  prominence  of  a  man  of  such 
character  has  left  a  deep  stain  upon  the  annals  of  .Russia. 

POTENZA,  a  city  of  Italy,  the  chief  town  of  Potenza 
(Basilicata),  lies  in  the  heart  of  the  country,  on  an  isolated 
hiU  in  the  valley  of  the  Basento  or  Busento  (Casuentus  or  V 
Masuentum),  69  miles  by  rail  east  of  Salerno  and  51  west- 
north-west  of  Metapontum,  where  the  Basento  reaches  the 
Gulf  of  Taranto  and  the  railway  joins  the  line  between 
Taranto  and  Eeggio-  It  is  much  exposed  to  stormy'winds, 
and  has  in  gener<ii  a  far  more  northern  climate  than  its 
astronomical  position  (40°  40'  N.  lat.)  implies.  Along 
vidth  Marsico  Nuovd  the  city  forms  an  episcopal  diocese 
dependent  on  Acerenza,  and  under  the  Bourbon  Govern- 
ment it  was  considered  a  fortified  place  of  the  fourth 
class.  The  buildings  of  chief  note  are  the  cathedral,  the 
seminary,  and  the  hospital  of  San  Carlo  (1869).  The 
population  was  18,295  in  1871  and  16,968  in  1881  (com- 
mune, 20,281). 

The  hill  on  which  Potenza  now  stands  was  originally  occupied 
only  by  the  citadel  of  the  ancient  Potentia,  which  spread  out  in 
the  valley  below,  .and  must  have  bjen,  to  judge  by  its  numeroiifl 
inscriptions,  a  flourisliing  muuicipium  during  the  Roman  empire. 
The  old  town  was  destroyed  by  Frederick  II.,  and  again  by  earth- 
quake in  1273  ;  the  erection  of  the  new  town  on  the  hiU  probably 
dates  from  this  latter  event.  By  the  Angevines  Potenza  was  made 
a  domain  of  the  San  Severino  family  ;  in  the  beginning  of  the  15th 
century  it  was  held  by  Francesco  Sforza,  and  in  1135  it  passed  to  the 
Guevara  family ;  the  Loffredi,  who  succeeded  by  marriage,  continued 
in  possession  tiU  the  abolition  of  the  great  fiefs.  In  1694  then 
was  a  severe  earthquake  ;  and  the  more  terrible  earthquake  whiel 
on  16th  and  17th  December  1857  passed  through  southern  Italy, 
and  in  the  Basilicata  alone  killed  32,475  persons,  proved  parti 
cuUrly  disastrous  at  Potenza,  laying  the  greater  part  of  the  city 
in  ruins. 

POTT,  a  seaport  town  of  Trans-Caucasia  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Kutais  (Mingrelia),  lies  at  the  mouth  of  the  Rhion 
(Phasis)  on  the  coast  of  the  Black  Sea,  193  miles  west- 
north-west  of  Tiflis,  with  which  it  is  connected  by  a  railway 

1  Gloiy  to  God  !  glory  to  you  ! 
The  fortress  is  taken  and  I  am  there. 


P  O  T  — P  0  T 


599 


opened  (except  the  tunnel  of  Suram)  in  1872.  The  white 
walla  of  the  fortress  may  be  seen  at  a  great  distance  con- 
trasting with  the  green  trees  which  surround  them,  and 
the  lighthouse,  117  feet  high,  is  visible  17  miles.  Situated 
in  a  low  and  marshy  delta  not  more  than  2|  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  river,  Poti  is  extremely  unhealthy,  fever 
and  ague  prevailing  in  summer  and  autumn.  Ever  since 
the  Russians  obtained  possession  of  the  place  they  have 
laboured  to  improve  the  town  and  port,  but  with  compara- 
tively limited  success.  The  houses  are  built  of  wood  and 
supported  on  piles.  After  Batoum  was  transferred  to 
Russia  in  1878  it  was  thought  that  Poti  would  be  aban- 
doned as  a  port,  but  the  Commission  of  Inquiry  appointed 
in  1883  decided  in  its  favour.  Works  estimated  to  cost 
2,365,000  roubles  and  to  be  finished  in  four  years  were 
accordingly  undertaken.  The  popid.jtion  of  the  town  is 
given  as  3112  in  the  Russian  Calendar  for  1882. 

Poti  represents  tha  ancient  Phasis,  a  commercial  colony  of  the 
people  of  Miletus.  The  present  fortress  was  built  in  1578  by 
Amurath  III.  at  the  time  of  tho  war  with  Persia.  In  1640  it  was 
destroyed  by  the  Imeritians,  but  it  was  again  restored  and  enlarged, 
the  ancient  ruins  in  the  neighbourliood  yielding  the  necessary 
material.  The  town  was  a-great  market  for  the  ti'ade  in  slaves. 
It  was  captured  by  the  Russians  in  1812,  and  again  in  1829. 

POTOMAC,  a  river  of  the  United  States,  which  joins 
Chesapeake  Bay  by  a  considerable  estuary  after  a  course  of 
about  400  miles.  The  northern  branch  of  the  upper  river 
rises  in  the  Alleghanies,  West  Virginia,  the  southern  in  the 
Shenandoah  Mountains.  Affluents  are  received  from 
Pennsylvania,  Maryland,  Virginia,  and  West  Virginia, — the^ 
most  important  of  all  being  the  Shenandoah,  which  joins  it 
at  Harper's  Ferry,  below  which  the  united  stream  breaks 
through  the  line  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  Ships  ascend  for  a 
short  distance  above  Washington  (the  capital  of  the  United 
States),  or  a  total  distance  from  the  sea  of  125  .miles. 
,  POTOSI  (not  to  be  confounded  with  San  Luis  Potosi, 
the  state  and  state  capital  in  Mexico)  is  a  town  of  Bolivia, 
at  the  head  of  the  department  of  Potosi,  in  19°  36'  S.  lat. 
and  65°  46'  W.  long.  It  stands  in  a  Weak  and  barren 
country  not  far  from  the  sources  of  the  Pilcomaya,  and 
thus  belongs  to  the  great  basin  of  the  La  Plata  system. 
Situated  at  the  height  of  about  13,280  feet  above  the  sea, 
it  is  one  of  the  highest  inhabited  places  in  the  world,  and 
the  Cerro  do  Potosi,'  at  the  foot  of  which  it  stands,  reaches 
a  height  of  16,150  feet.  The  wealth  of  silver  ore  drawn 
from  it  up  to  1846  is  stated  at  upwards  of  £300,000,000 
sterling ;  and,  though  the  works  had  for  a  time  to  be  dis- 
continued as  heavier  machinery  and  greater  capital  were 
required,  the  store  is  far  from  being  exhausted.  The  city 
is  still  the  seat  of  the  national  mint.  It  consists  of  nine 
Streets  about  30  feet  broad,  running  north  and  south  and 
crossed  at  right  angles  by  others  of  varying  breadth.  The 
houses  (two-storied  in  the  heart  of  the  town,  but  only  of 
one  story  in  the  outskirts)  are  built  of  adobe  and  white- 
washed. Besides  the  cathedral  (restored  in  1858)  there 
ale  a  largo  number  of  churches,  several  convents,  and  other 
public  buildings ;  but  tho  city  as  a  whole  has  that  dilapi- 
dated and  melancholy  appearance  which  is  tho  result  of  a 
greatly  diminished  population.  In  IGll  its  inhabitants 
are  said  to  have  numbered  160,000;  at  present  they  are 
probably  not  more  than  11,000,  though  Hugo  Reck  about 
1867  gave  22,850  and  Ondarza  in  1882  repeated  exactly 
the  same  figures. 

The  foundation  of  the  town  dates  {torn  1647,  two  years  after  the 
first  discovery  of  silver  ore  on  Cerro  de  Potosi.  In  1826  a  monu- 
ment to  Bolivar  was  erected  in  the  public  square.  The  history 
of  Potosi  from  its  origin  till  1702  wiU  be  found  in  Don  Vicente 
Ballivian  y  Rqjas's  Bolivian  Archives. 

POTSDAM,  the  seat  of  government  for  the  Prussian 
province  of  Brandenburg,  and  the  summer  residence  of  tho 
emperor  of  Germany,  lies  16  miles  to  the  south-west  of 

*  For  a  description  of  this  mountain,  see  Bouvia  (voL  iv.  p.  13). 


Berlin,  on  the  river  Havel,  which  here  expands  into  a 
series  of  small  lakes.  The  town  is  handsomely  built, 
though  with  a  monotonous  regularity  that  betraj's  its 
artificial  origin,  and  is  situated  amid  the  prettiest  scenery 
of  the  Mark  of  Brandenburg,  consisting  of  an  oasis  of 
wood  and  hill  and  lake  in  tlie  centre  of  a  sandy  and  un- 
attractive plain.  Except  during  the  summer  months, 
when  its  streets  are  enlivened  by  endless  streams  of  excur- 
sionists from  Berlin,  Potsdam  usually  presents  a  somewhat 
dull  and  deserted  soene,  relieved  only  by  the  soldiers  of 


Potsdam, 
its  extensive  garrison.  The  greater  part  of  the  town  lies 
on  the  right  bank  of  the  Havel  and  is  connected  with  the 
Teltow  suburb  on  the  opposite  bank  by -a  long  bridge. 
At  the  north  end  of  this  bridge  rises  the  royal  palace,  a 
large  quadrangular  building  of  the-  17th  century,  with  a 
colonnade,  chiefly  interesting  for  the  namerous  relics  it 
contains  of  Frederick  the  Great,  who  made  it  his  favourite 
residence.  It  also  contains  reminiscences  of  Voltaire, 
who  also  resided  here  for  several  years.  The  principal 
churches  are  the  Nicolaikirche,  .a  handsome  edifice  with  a 
dome ;  the  garrison  church,  containing  the  remains  of 
Frederick  the  Great  and  his  father ;  and  the  Friedens- 
kirche  or  church  of  peace,  erected  by  Frederick  'William 
rV.  as  a  "positive  and  Christian  counterpart  to  the  worldlj 
negative  of  Sans  Souci."  Among  other  conspicuous  build 
ings  are  the  large  barracks,  orphanages,  and  other  militarj 
establishments;  the  town-house;  the  district  courts;  the 
theatre ;  and  the  Brandenburg  gate,  in  the  stylo  of  a 
Roman  triumphal  arch.  The  Lustgarten,  Wilhelmsplatz, 
and  Plantage  are  open  spaces  laid  out  as  pleasure-grounds 
and  adorned  with  statues  and  busts.  In  spite  of  its  some- 
what sleepy  appearance,  Potsdam  is  the  seat  of  a  varied  if 
not  very  extensive  industry,  of  which  sugar,  cotton  and 
woollen  goods,  chocolate,  and  tobacco  are  the  chief  pro- 
ducts. Market-gardening  aflbrds  occupation  to  many  of 
the  inhabitants,  and  the  cultivation  of  winter  violets  is 
important  enough  to  bo  mentioned  as  a  specialty.  Th« 
Havel  is  well  stoclied  with  fish.  In  1880  Potsdam  con- 
tained 48,447  inhabitants,  mainly  Protestant.  The  garri- 
son consists  of  about  7000  men. 

Potsdam  is  almost  entirely  surrounded  by  a  fringe  of 
royal  palaces,  parks,  and  pleasure-grounds,  which-fairly 
substantiate  its  claim  to  the  title  of  a  "  German  Versailles." 
Immediately  to  the  west  is  tho  park  of  Sans  Souci,  laid 
out  by  Frederick  tho  Groat,  and  largely  extended  by 
Frederick  William  FV.  It  is  in  the  formal  French  style 
of  the  period,  and  is  profusely  embellished  with  primly- 
cut  hedges  and  alleys,  terraces,  fountains,  statuary,  and 
artificial  ruins.  Adjacent  to  tho  palace  is  the  famous 
windmill  (now  royal  property)  which  its  owner  ■  refused  to 
sell  to  the  king,  meeting  threatened  violence  by  an  appeal 
to  the  judges  of  Berlin  ;  tho  whole  story,  however,  is  new 
doubted.     A  little  farther  on  b  the  so-called  Orangery, 


600 


P  O  T  — P  O  T 


an  extensive  edifice  in  the  Italian  style,  containing  numerT 
ous  pictures  and  other  works  "of  art.  The  park  also  includes 
the  Charlottenhof,  a  reproduction  of  a  Pompeian  villa. 
At  the  veest  end  of  the  park  stands  the  New  Palace,  a 
huge  brick  edifice  375  feet  in  length,  erected  by  Frederick 
the  Great  at  enormous  expense  in  1763-69,  and  now  occu- 
pied by  the  crown  prince  of  Germany.  It  contains  other 
reminiscences  of  Frederick  and  Voltaire,  a  few  pictures  by 
ancient  masters,  a  theatre,  and  a  large  hall  gorgeously 
decorated  with  shells  and  minerals.  The  spacious  build- 
ings at  the  back  are  devoted  to  the  "  Lehrbataillon,"  a 
battalion  of  infantry  composed  of  draughts  from  differ- 
ent regiments  trained  here  to  ensure  uniformity  of  drill 
throughout  the  army.  To  the  north  of  Potsdam  lies  a 
small  Russian  village,  established  in  1826  to  accommodate 
the  Russian  singers  attached  to  the  Prussian  guards.  A 
little  to  the  east  of  it  is  the  New  Garden,  containing  the 
Marble  Palace.  The  list  of  Potsdam  palaces  may  be  closed 
with  two  situated  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Havel — one  at 
Glienicke  and  the  other  on  the  bill  of  Babelsberg.  The 
latter,  a  picturesque  building  in  the  English  Gothic  style, 
in  the  midst  of  a  park  also  in  the  English  taste,  is  the 
summer  residence  of  the  present  emperor  of  Germany. 

Potsdam  wa3  originally  a  Slavonic  fisliing-village  named  Potsdu- 
pimi,  and  is  first  mentioned  in  a  document  of  993.  It  did  not, 
however,  attain  any  importance  until  the  Great  Elector  established 
a  park  and  palace  here  about  1660  ;  and  even  at  the  close  of  his 
reign  it  only  contained  3000  inhabitants.  Frederick  William  I. 
(1688-1740)  greatly  enlarged  Potsdam,  and  his  stiff  military  tastes 
are  reflected  in  the  monotonous  uniformity  of  the  streets.  Frederick 
the  Great  willingly  continued  his  father's  work,  and  is  the  real 
creator  of  the  modern  splendour  of  the  town,  of  which  his  memory 
may  be  said  to  form  the  predominant  interest.  His  successors 
have  each  contributed  his  quota  towards  the  embellishment  and 
extension  of  the  town. 

POTTER,  John  {c.  1674-1747),  archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, was  the  son  of  a  linen-draper  at  Wakefield,  York- 
shire, and  was  born  about  1674.  At  the  age  of  fourteen 
he  entered  University  College,  Oxford,  and  in  1693  he 
published,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  master  of  his  college, 
various  readings  and  notes  on  Plutarch's  De  atidieiidis 
poetis  and  Basil's  Oratio  ad  juvenes.  In  1694  he  became 
a  fellow  of  Lincoln  College,  and  in  1697  his  edition  of 
Lycophron  appeared.  It  was  followed  by  his  Arch^ologia 
Grxca  (2  vols.  8vo,  1697-99),  once  a  very  popular  work. 
A  reprint  of  his  Lycophron  in  1702  was  dedicated  to 


Grsevius,  and  the  Antiquities  was  afterwards  published 
in  Latin  in  the  Thesaimis  of  Gronovius.  In  1704  he  be. 
came  chaplain  to  Archbishop  Tenison,  and  shortly  after- 
wards was  made  chaplain -in -ordinary  to  Queen  Anne. 
From  1708  he  was  regius  professor  of  divinity  and  canon, 
of  Christ  Church,  Oxford;  and  from  1715  he  was  bishop  of 
Oxford.  In  the  latter  year  appeared  his  edition  of  Clemen* 
Alexandrinus  (frequently  reprinted  and  still  valued).  In 
1707  he  published  a  Discourse  on  Church  Government,  and 
he  took  a  prominent  part  in  the  controversy  with  Hoadly, 
bishop  of  Bangor,  being  complimented  by  that  author  as 
the  antagonist  of  whom  he  was  most  afraid.  In  January 
1737  Potter  was  unexpectedly  appointed  to  succeed  Wake 
in  the  see  of  Canterbiu-y.  His  primacy  was  in  no  way  re^ 
markable,  but  had  the  effect  of  checking  the  movement  for 
revision  of  the  formularies  and  confessions  of  the  church 
and  of  the  subscription  to  them.  He  died  on  10th  Octobei 
1747.  His  Theological  Works,  consisting  of  sermons, 
charges,  divinity  lectures,  and  the  Discourse  on  Church 
Government,  were  published  in  3  vols.  &vo,  in  1753.' 

POTTER,  Paul  (1625-1654),  animal  painter,  was  born 
at  Enkhuizen,  Holland,  in  1625.  He  was  instructed  in 
art  by,  his  father,  Peter  Potter,  a  landscape  and  figure 
painter  of  some  merit,  and  by  the  time  he  had  attained 
his  fifteenth  year  his  productions  were  already  much 
esteemed.  At  the  age  of  twenty  he  settled  at  The  Hague, 
and  there  married  in  1650.  He  was  patronized  by 
Maurice,  prince  of  Orange,  for  whom  he  painted  the 
life-size  picture  of  the  Young  Bull,  now  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  works  in  the  gallery  of  The  Hague.  In  1652 
he  was  induced  by  Burgomaster  Tulk  of  Amsterdam  to 
remove  to  that  city.  The  constitution  of  the  painter 
seems  to  have  been  feeble,  and  his  health  suffered  from 
the  unremitting  diligence  with  which  he  pursued  his  art. 
He  died  in  1654  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-nine. 

His  paintings  are  generally  on  a  small  scale  ;  his  animals  are  de- 
signed with  a  careful  accuracy  which  bears  witness  to  the  artist's 
close  and  constant  study  from  nature  ;  while  the  landscapa  back- 
grounds are  introduced  with  spirit  and  appropriateness.  His  colour 
IS  clear  and  transparent,  his  execution  firm  and  finished  without 
beipg  laboured.  He  executed  a  series  of  some  twenty  etchings, 
mainly  of  animals,  which  are  simple  and  direct  in  method  and 
liandling.  Here,  as  in  painting,  his  precocity  was  remarkable  ;  his 
large  plate  of  tlTe  Herdsman,  produced  when  he  was  only  eighteen, 
and  that  of  the  Shepherd,  which  dates  from  the  following  year 
show  him  at  his  best  as  an  accomplished  master  of  the  point. 


POTTEEY    AND    PORCELAIN 


THE  word  "  pottery  "  (Fr.  poterie)  m  its  widest  sense 
includes  all  objects  made  of  clay,  moulded  into 
form  while  in  a  moist  plastic  state,  and  then  hardened  by 
fire.  Clay,  the  most  widely  spread  and  abundant  of  all 
mineral  substances,  consists  essentially  of  a  hydrated  sili- 
cate of  alumina  (see  vol.  x.  p..  237),  admixed,  however,  in 
almost  all  cases  with  various  impurities.  Thus  it  usually 
contains  a  considerable  proportion  of  free  silica,  lime,  and 
oxides  of  iron,  its  colour  chiefly  depending  on  the  last  in- 
gredient. The  white  kaolin  clays  (see  Kaolin)  used  in 
the  manufacture  of  porcelain  are  the  purest ;  they  consist 
pf  silicate  of  alumina,  with  5  to  7  per  cent,  of  potash,  and 
only  traces  of  lime,  iron,  and  magnesia. 

The  making  of  pottery  depends  an  the  chemical  change 
that  takes  place  when  clay  is  heated  in  the  fire ;  the 
hydrated  silicate  of  alumina  becomes  anhydrous,  and, 
though  the  baked  vessel  'can  absorb  mechanically  a  large 
quantity  of  water,  the  chemical  state,  and  with  it  the  hard- 
ness of  the  vessel,  remains  unaltered.  A  well-baked  piece 
of  clay  is  the  most  durable  of  all  manufactured  substances. 
In  preparing  clay  for  the  potter  it  is  above  all  things 
necessary  that  it  should  be  worked  and  beaten,  with  suffi- 


cient water  to  make  it  plastic,  into  a  perfectly  homogeneous 
mass.  Any  inequalities  cause  an  irregular  expansion  during 
the  firing,  and  the  pot  cracks  or  flies  to  pieces.  In  early- 
times  the  clay  was  prepared  by  being  kneaded  by  the  hands 
or  trampled  by  the  feet  (see  Isa.  xli.  25) ;  modern  manu- 
facturers prepare  it  on  a  larger  scale  by  grinding  it  between 
mill-stones,  and  mixing  it  in  a  fluid  state  with  an  addi- 
tional quantity  of  silica,  lime,  and  other  substances. 

During  the  process  of  firing  all  clays  shrink  in  volume, 
partly  through  the  loss  of  water  and  partly  on  account  of  in- 
crease of  density.  What  are  called  "fat"  clays — those, that  , 
is  to  say,  which  are  very  plastic  and  unctuous — shrink  very 
much,  losing  from  one-third  to  one-fourth  of  their  bulk  ; 
they  are  also  very  liable  to  crack  or  twist  during  the  firing. 
"Lean"  clays — those  that  have  a  large  percentage  of  free 
silica  —  shrink  but  little,  and  keep  their  form  unaltered 
under  the  heat  of  the  kiln  ;  they  are  not,  however,  so  easy 
to  mould  into  the  required  shape,  and  thus  a  certain  com- 
promise is  frequently  required'.  Lean  and  fat  clays  are 
mixed  together,  or  silica  (sand  or  ground  and  calcined 
flints)  is  added  to  a  fat  clay  in  sufficient  quantity  to  enable 
it  to  stand  the  firin.a;.     The  same"  result  may  be  attain'ed 


r 


o 

a. 


Q_ 


C 


F  O  T  T  .E  R  Y 


601 


i;  Soff  potter?, 
easily  fusiDle.i," 


irStonewafe,  very 
hard  and  infus-  - 
ible. • 


Porcelaip,  white, 
semi-transpar- 
ent,  and  only- 
fused  at  a  high 
tEinperature. 


Iby  the  addition  of  broken  pots,  crushed  or  ground,  an  ex- 
pedient practised  during  the  earliest  stages  of  the  develop- 
ment of  the  art  of  pottery. 

Classification. — Many  attempts '  have  been  made  lo 
classify  pottery  aiid  porcelain  according  to  their  mode  of 
manufacture.  The  classification  of  M.  Brongniart  (Traite 
des  Arts  Ceramiques,  Paris,  1854)  has  been  followed  by 
most  later  writers.  With  some  modifications  it  is  as 
follows : — 

/       f  (a)  ^jsciii^— Simple  baked  clay,  porous  and 

Tvithout   gloss.      Example,  a   common 

modern  flower-pot. 
(6)  Glossy. — Fine  clay  covered  with  an  almost 

imperceptible  vitreous  glaze.     Example, 

most  Greek  vases. 
(c)  Glazed. — Clay  covered  with  a  perceptible 

coating  of  glass.      Example,   common 

white  earthenware  plates.  ' 
(ri)  Enamelled. — Clay  covered  with  a  vitreous 

coating  made  opaque  by  white  oxide  of 

tin.     Example,  Italian  majolica, 
■(a)  Very  silicious  clay  covered  with  a  lead 

vitreous    glaze.       Example,    old    grey 

Flemish  ware, 
(i)  Silicious  clay  covered  with  a  salt  glaze. 

Example,  a  modern  brown  ginger -beer 

bottle. 
(a)  Hard  Porcelain. — Natural  kaolinic  clay 

covered  with  a  felspar  glaze.     Example, 

porcelain  of  China  and  Japan, 
(5)  Soft  Porcelain. — Artificial  paste  covered 

with  a  lead  vitreous  glaze.     Example, 

early  Sevres  porcelain. 

This  classification  is  necessarily  imperfect,  some  pottery 
coming  under  two  heads,  as,  for  instance,  much  of  the 
Italian  majolica,  which  is  both  enamelled  and  glazed.  For 
this  reason  in  the  following  article  pottery  will  be  treated 
according  to  its  age  and  country,  not  according  to  its 
method  of  manufacture.  Porcelain  differs  from  pottery 
in  being  whiter,  harder,  less  fusible,  and  (most  essential 
■difference)  in  being  slightly  translucent.  The  paste  of 
which  it  ia  formed  is  a  purer  silicate  of  alumina  than  the 
clay  of  which  pottery  is  made.  It  will  therefore  be  de- 
scribed under  separate  heads  (p.  633  sq.,  infra). 

For  the  sake  of  clearness  it  will  be  weU  to  define  the 
sense  in  which  technical  words  relating  to  pottery  are 
used  in  this  article.  Body  or  paste  is  the  clay  of  which  the 
main  bulk  of  a  pot  is  made.  Slip  is  clay  finely  ground 
and  mixed  with  water  to  the  consistency  of  cream.  It  is 
usually  applied  over  the  whole  surface  of  a  vessel  in  order 
to  give  it  a  finer  face  or  a  different  colour  from  that  of 
the  body  of  the  pot.  It  is  also  somethnes  applied  partially, 
forming  ornaments  in  relief,  as  in  the  case  of  some  Roman 
ware  and  the  coarse  17th-century  pottery  of  Staffordshire 
described  below.  Glaze  is  a  thin  coating  of  gla.ss,  evenly 
fused  over  the  surface  of  a  clay  vessel  to  make  it  harder, 
and  also  to  render  it  impervious  to  water.  Clay  simply 
baked  without  a  vitreous  coating  is  called  biscuit ;  its 
surface  i.s  dull,  and  it  is  more  or  less  porous.  The  sim- 
plest and  oldest  form  of  glaze  is  a  pure  silicate  of  soda ; 
the  addition  of  oxide  of  lead  makes  the  glaze  more  fusible, 
but  less  hard  and  durable.  For  decorative  purposes  glazes 
ooay  be  coloured  by  various  metallic  oxides  without  losing 
their  ttansparency.  Enamel  is  a  glaze  with  the  addition 
oH  some  substance  to  render  it  opaque.  Binoxido  of  tin 
has  the  peculiar  property  that  when  even  a  smaU  quantity 
is  added  to  a  transparent  glass  it  renders  it  opaque  and 
white  without  otherwise  altering  its  character.  Great  con- 
fusion has  been  caused  in  various  works  on  pottery  by  a 
careless  use  of  the  terms  "glaze  "and  "enamel";  they  are 
both  of  the  nature  of  felass,  but  the  best  distinction  to 
make  is  to  apply  the  word  "enamel"  to  a  vitreous  coating 
that  is  opaque,  and  the  word  "  glaze  "  to  one  that  is  tram- 
ffarent ;  both  may  be  coloured"    The  method  of  applying 


vitreous  coatings  to  clay,  whether  enamel  or  glaze,  is  this. 
The  materials  are  ground  fine  and  mixed  with  water  to 
the  consistency  of  cream.  The  pot  is  dipped  in  the 
mixture,  or  the  fluid  is  applied  with  a  brush ;  it  is  then  set 
to  dry,  and  finally  fired  in  the  kiln,  which  must  be  heated 
sufficiently  to  fuse  the  component  parts  of  the  glaze  or 
enamel  into  one  smooth  vitreous  coating,  while  on  the 
other  hand  it  must  not  be  hot  enough  to  soften  or  melt 
the  clay  body  of  the  vessel.  The  use  of  oxide  of  lead  enables 
a  glaze  to  be  applied  to  a  clay  body  which  would  not  stand 
the  high  temperature  necessary  to  combine  and  fuse  a  pure 
silico-alkaline  gkze.  In  order  to  prevent  the  glaze  or 
enamel  from  blistering  or  cracking  off  there  must  be  a 
certain  similarity  of  substance  between  the  clay  body  and 
the  vitreous  coating.  A  fine  silicious  glaze  or  enamel  will 
not  adhere  to  a  soft  fat  clay  unless  the  proportion  of  silica 
in  the  latter  is  increased  either  by  admixture  of  a  harder, 
more  silicious  clay,  or  by  the  addition  of  pure  silica  either 
in  the  form  of  sand  or  of  ground  flint. 

The  Potter's  Wheel. — All  pottery,  except  the  rudest  and 
most  primitive  sorts,  is  moulded  or  "  thrown  "  by  the  aid 
of  a  very  simple  contrivance,  a  smaU  "iound  table  fixed 
on  a  revolving  pivot.  Fig.  1,  from  a  tomb-painting  at 
Thebes,  shows  its  simplest  form. 
The  potter  at  intervals  gives  a  spin 
to  the  table,  which  continues  to  re- 
volve for  some  time  without  a 
fresh  impulse.  This  form  of  wheel, 
used  by  the  Egyptians  (as  is  shown 
by  existing  fragments  of  pottery) 
about  4000  B.C.,  is  still  employed 
without  any  alteration  by  the  pot- , 
ters  of  many  parts  of  India.     A 

later   improvement  introduced  in 

Egypt  under  the  Ptolemies  wad  to  ^^^  i._potter  moulding  » 


vessel  on  the  wheel,  from 
a  painting  in  a  tomb  at 
Thebes  about  1800  RO. 
Compare  the  wheel  on  tht 
left  in  fig.  65. 


have  another  larger  circular  table, 
fixed  lower  down  on  the  same  axis, 
which  the  potter  set  in  movement 
with  his  feet,  and  thus  was  able 
to  keep  up  a  regular  speed  and 
leave  his  hands  free  for  the  manipulation  of  the  clay 
(see  fig.  2).  No  process  in  any  handicraft  is  moro 
beautiful  than  that  of  a  potter 
moulding  a  vessel  on  the  wheel. 
The  ease  withVhich  the  plastio 
clay  answers  to  the  touch  of  the 
hand,  and  rises  or  falls,  taking 
a  whole  succession  of  symme- 
trical »!iapes,  and  seeming,  as  it 
were,  instinct  with  the  life  and 
thought  of  the  potter,  makes 
this  -art  beautiful  and  striking 
beyond  all  others,  in  which  the 
desired  form  can  only  be  at-_ 
tained  by  comparatively  slow  fio.  2.— Potter's  wLed  of  tht 
and  laborious  methods.  Ancient  time  of  tbo  Ptolemies,  moved 
poetry  is  full  of  allusions  to  this.     JiX  «'«  ';;<'>  f™™  *  """-J* 

It  /r,  •••      cnr\\ lief  at  PhiliB.     Corap.are  Bg. 

Homer  {II.,    xvui.    600)    com-     55,  the  wheel  on  the  right, 
pares  the  rhythm  of  a  dance  to 

the  measured  spin  of  a  potter's  wheel;  and  the  rapid  eas« 
with  which  a  clay  vessel  is  made  and  remade  in  a  new 
form  is  described  by  Jeremiah  (xviii.  3-4)  in  one  of  hii 
most  forcible  similes  (compare  Horace,  A.  P.,  21-22) 
Among  the  Egjqitians  of  the  Ptolemaic  period  the  pottei 
was  ascd  as  a  typo  of  the  Creator.  Nouf  or  Knoum,  th« 
divine  spirit,  and  Pthah,  the  creator  of  the  mundane  egg, 
arc  symbolized  by  human  figures  moulding  clay  on  tht 
potter's  wheel*  The  wheel  and  egg  are  shown  above  it 
fig.  2^_ . 

'  Seo  Bossellino,  itonumenCi  ddV  Egitto,  pi.  xxl.  and  xxiL,  1844, 


1'.)- 


•>•>* 


602 


POTTERY 


[PREHISTORID 


Kilns  for  firing  Pottery. — The  earliest  form  of  kiln,  as 
represented  in  Egjqjtian  .-wall-paintings,  is  a  tall  circular 
shamber  of'  brick, 
with  '  a  perforated 
floor  '  near  .  the  •  bot- 
tom.' The  fuel  was 
introduced  from  an 
opening  on  one  side, 
and  raked  in'  under 
the  brick  floor. '  The 
pottery  to  be  baked 
vas  piled  up  in  the 
upper  c  part  of  \  the 
chamber.  Fig.  3,i 
from  a  potter'svotiv& 
tablet  from  Corinth',- 
shows  an  early  Greek 
form  of  kiln,  with  a' 
place  for  the  fuel  on 
one  side,  and  a  door 
in  the  side  of  theup^ 
per  chamber  through 
which  the  pottery 
could  be  put  in  and 
withdrawn.  The  Cor-  >. 

Lnthian  kiln  differs  '  „  _  ,  _  ,  ,.  , .,  ,  . 
c  4.1        IT        J.-       Fro.   3. — Early  Greek  pottery-kiln,    about 

trom  _  tUe  _  Jigyptian  700 .  600  b.  c,  from  a  painted  votive  tablet 
kiln  in  being  domed  found  at  Corinth,  now  in  the  Louvre.  The 
over,  but  it  is  the  section  shows  the  probable  construction  of 
same    in    principle.     *''^  ^^'°' , 

Even  at  the  present  day  kilns  shaped  almost  exactlylike 
this  early  Greek  one  are  still  largely  used.' 

Section  I. — Prehistoric. 

The  art  of  making  pottery  is  one  of  the  most  extreme 
antiquity ;  with  the  exception  of  the  cave-dwellers  of  the 
Drift  or  PaleeoUthic  period  it  was  practised  by  all  known 
prehistoric  races  from  the  Neolithic  age  downwards.  The 
sepulchral  barrows  of  Britain  and  other  European  countries 
have  supplied  vast  stores  of  this  earliest  kind  of  pottery. 
It  is  mostly  formed  of  coarse  clay,  generally  brown  in  colour, 
though  sometimes  grey  or  reddish ;  some  few  specimens 
are  fine  in  texture  and  have  a  slightly  glossy  surface.  The 
clay,  while  moist,  has  been  kneaded  with  some  care,  and  is 
often  mixed  with  a  proportion  of  gravel,  coarse  sand,  quartz 
crystals,  or  pounded  pottery.  The  more  carefully  made 
specimens,  chiefly  those  of  the  bronze  and  iron  ages,  are 
frequently  covered  with  a  smooth  slip,  made  of  the  same 
clay  as  the  body,  but  finely  pounded  and  thoroughly  mixed. 
All  are  alike  "  hand-made,"  without  any  assistance  from  the 
potter's  wheel;  some  of  the  smaller  ones  are  scooped  out  of 
3,  solid  ball  of  day,  while  in  some  cases  great  skill  has  been 
shown  in  the  building  up,  by  the  unaided  hand,  of  the 
thin  walls  of  larger  vessels,  some  of  which  „are  so  round 
md  neatly  formed  as  to  appear  at  first  sight  to  be  wheel- 
wade.  This,  however,  is  never  the  case  withthe  pottery 
>f  the  three  great  prehistoric  periods. 

The  shapes  found  in  the  sepulchral  barrows  of  Britain, 
france,  Scandinavia,  and  other '  countries  are  usually 
jlassified  thus — (1)  cinerary  urns,  (2)  food  vessels,  (3) 
irLnking-cups.  aW  {i^  the  so-called  "incense  cups  ".(see 
2g.  4),  ^  ^ 

(1)  Cinerary  urns,  usually  found''full  of  bumeB  bones;'are  the 
largest,  varying  from  12  to  18  inches  in  height.  They  are  mostly 
less  ornamented  and  less  carefully  made  than  the  smaller  vessels. 
Most  .have  their  decoration  confined  to  a  band  round  the  upper 
part  of  the  pot,  or  often  only  a  projecting  flange  lapped  round  the 
ffhole  rim.  A  few  have  small  handles,,  formed  of  pierced  knobs  of 
clay,  and  sometimes  projecting  rolls  of  clay. looped,  as  it  were,  all 
found  the  urn.  (2)  Food-vessels  vary  considtrably  in  size  and  form. 
Some  are  shaped  like  a  tea-cup,  with  a  handle  on  one  side  ;  others 


are  like  small  cinerary  urns,  either  quite  plain  or  with  pierced  knob, 
handles  and  bands  of  crnaments  incised  or  impressed.     (3)  Drink' 


Drinking-cup.  Domestic  bowl, 

I  ViG.  i. — Various  foims  of  prehistoric  pottery. 

ing-cups,  mostly  from  6  to  8  inches  high,  vary  but  little  in  lorm", 
and  are  usually  completely  covered  with  ornament.  They  are  often 
made  with  considerable  care  and  skill,  and  are  not  ungraceful  in 
shape.  The  names  given  to  the  preceding  three  classes  possibly 
express  their  real  use,  but  the  name  of  the  fourth  class,  "incenso 
cups,"  is  purely  imaginary.  Under  this  head  are  comprised  a 
number  of  small  vessels  of  very  varied  shape,  some  with  their  sides 
pierced  through  with  square  or  lozenge -shaped  openings,  while 
others,  almost  globular  in  shape,  have  several  pierced  kn'ob-handles, 
as  if  for  suspension.  Some  are  quite  plain,  and  others  are  covered 
ivith  ornament.  Their  use  is  unknown ;  one  possible  suggestion  is 
that  they  were  intended  to  carry  fire  from  some  sacred  source  to  light 
the  funeral  pyre.  Canon  Greenwell,  probably  the  best  authority 
on  this  subject,  believes,  contrary  to  the  opinion  of  many  anti- 
quaries, that  none  of  the  above  classes  of  barrow- pottery  were 
intended  for  domestic  use,  but  that  they  were  made  solely  to  be 
buried  with  the  dead.  He  considers  that  a  fifth  class  of  pottery, 
chiefly  in  the  form  of  bowls,  which  has  occasionally  been  found, 
not  in  barrows  but  in  dwellings,  is  the  only  kind  that  was  actually 
used  for  domestic  purposes  by  prehistoric  man  (see  Greenwell, 
British  Barrages,  1877). 

The  oniament  which  is  often  lavishly  applied  on  prehistoric 
pottery  is  of  especial  interest.  It  frequently  consists  of  lines  of 
small  dots  impressed  from  a  notched  piece  of  wood  or  metal, 
arranged  in  various  patterns — crosses,  chevrons,  or. zigzags.  All 
the  patterns  were  stamped  into  the  body  of  the  pot  before  it  was 
hardened  by  fire.  The  lines  were  frequently  made  by  pressing  a 
twisted  thong  of  skin  against  the  moist  clay,  so  that  a  sort  of 
spiral  sunk  line  was  produced.  Other  bands  of  ornament  were 
made  by  wooden  stamps  ;  the  end  of  a  hollow  round  stick  was  used 
to  form  a  row  of  small  circles,  or  a  round  stick  was  used  sideways 
to  produce  semicircular  depressions.  In  some  cases  the  incised 
lines  or  dots  have  been  filled  up  with  a  white  slip  of  pipeclay.  Con- 
siderable taste  and  invention  are  shown  by  many  of  these  combined 
ornaments,  and  a  certain  richness  of  decorative  effect  is  produced 
on  some  of  the  best  drinking-cups  ;  but  one  thing  is  to  be  noted  : 
all  the  main  lines  are  straight,  no  wavy  lines  or  circles  appearing, 
except  in  very  rare  instances — a  fact  which*  points  to  the  very 
limited  artistic  development  attained  by  the  prehistoric  races. 

Prehistoric  pottery  has  sometimes  been  described  as  "sun-baked," 
but  this  is  not  the  case;  however  imperfectly  baked,  the  pieces 
have  aU  been  permanently  hardened  by  fire,  otherwise  they  would 
certainly  not  have  lasted  to  our  time.  This  was  done  in  a  very 
rough  and  imperfect  manner,  not  in  a  kiln  but  in  an  open  fire,  so 
that  in  some  cases  the  pots  have  received  a  superficial  black  colour 
from  the  smoke  of  the  fuel.  Great  quantities  of  this  pottery  have 
been  found  in  the  sepulchral  barrows  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  ; 
those  from  the  latter  country  are  usually  very  superior  in  neatness 
of  execution  to  the  British  specimens.  The  British  Museum  is 
specially  rich  in  this  class  of  pottery,  chiefly  the  result  of  excava- 
tions made  in  British  barrows  by  Canon  Greenwell.  \^ 

For  prehistoric  pottery,  see  Greenwell,  British  Barrows,  1S77 :  Lnbbock 
Prehistoric  Tivus,  1S65 ;  Boyd  Dawkins,  Early  Man  in  Britain,  '^^OvV 
Wilson,  PrehistoHc  Man,  3d  ed.,  1S76,  and  Prehistoric  Annals  of  Scotland,  ISil 
Keller,  Lake-Dicellings  in  Switzerland  (tr.  by  Lee,  18V8);  Bonstetteli,^cM) 
d'AntiquUls  Suisses,  1855-57;  PeiTin,  Etitde  Prrtislorti|-ae,  lS.OulKl>^ 
Eabitatioiis  Lacustres.  lS60;.Borlasc,  ^«iiia  Cornubix,  1872- 


UrciEJrr   £GYPTIAK 


1 


POTTERY 


603 


Section  II. — Axcient  Egyptian. 
But  few  exampks  remain  Trhich  date  from  the  time  of 
lie  earlier  dynasties  of  Egypt,  though  from  the  XVIIIth 
Dynasty  downwards  a  great  quantity  of  specimens  exist. 
Broken  fragments,  embedded  in  the  clay  bricks  of  which 
some  of  the  oldest  pyramids  are  built,  supply  us  with  a 
few  imperfect  .samples  whose  date  can  be  fixed.  The  early 
pottery  of  Egypt  is  of  many  varieties  of  quality  :  some  is 
formed  of  coarse  brown'  clay  moulded  by  hand  without 
the  aid  of  the  wheel ;  other  specimens,  thin  and  carefully 
wheel- niade,  are  of  fine  rtd  clay,  with  a  slight  surface 
gloes.  something  like  the  "  Samian"  pottery  of  the  Romans. 
Some  fragments  of  brown  clay  have  been  found,  covered 
with  a  smooth  slip  made  of  a  creamy  white  or  yellowish 
clay.  The  early  us s  of  fine  coloured  enamels,  afterwards 
brought  "to  such  perfection  in  Egypt,  is  shown  by  the 
enamelled  clay  plaques  in  black,  white,  and  greenish- blue 
which  decorated  the  doorway  of  the  great  step-pyramid 
at  SalflfAra.  Each  plaque  has  a  pierced  projection  at  the 
tiack,  so  that  it  could  be  firmly  fiied  by  means  of  a  wood 
or  metal  dowel. 

Egypt  is  rich  in  materials  for  pottery,  both  glazed  and 
enamelled.  The  finest  of  clays  is  washed  down  and 
deposited  by  the  Nile ;  the  sandy  deserts  supply  pure 
silica ;  and  a  great  part  of  the  soil  is  saturated  with  the 
alkali  necessary  for  the  composition  of  vitreous  enamels 
and  glazes.  In  spite,  however,  of  this  abundance  of 
materials  the  Egyptians  never  learned  to  apply  either  their 
enamels  or  their  glazes,  both  of  great  beauty,  to  their 
larger  works  in  pottery  made  of  the  fine  Nile  clay.  The 
reason  probably  was  that  the  clay  was  too  fat,  and  there- 
fore a  vitreous  coating  would  have  flaked  oflf  during  the 
firing,  while  thpy  had  not  discovered  the  simple  expedient 
of  mixing  with  the  native  clay  an  addition  of  sand  (silica), 
which  would  have  enabled  both  glazes  and  enamels  to 
form  a  firm  coating  over  the  body  of  the  vessel.  The 
colours  used  for  Egyptian  enamels  and  glazes  are  very 
varied,  and  of  great  beauty  and  brilliance.  The  glazes 
themselves  are  pure  alkaline  silicates,  free  from  lead.  The 
enamels  are  the  same,  with  the  addition  of  oxide  of  tin. 
The  metallic  oxides  used  to  give  the  colours  are  these, — 
various  shades  of  blue  and  green,  protoxide  of  copper,  or 
more  rarely  cobalt ;  purple  and  violet,  oxide  of  manganese ; 
yellow,  iron  or  antimoniate  of  lead;  red,  sub-oxide  of 
copper  of  iron ;  black,  magnetic  oxide  of  iron  or  manganese. 
The  white  enamel  is  siinply  silicate  of  soda  with  oxide  of 
tin.  The  blues  and  greens,  whether  used  in  transparent 
glazes  or  opaque  enamels,  are  often  of  extreme  magnifi- 
cence of  colour,  in  an  endless  variety  of  tints, — turquoise, 
ultramarine,  deep  indigo,  and  all  shades  of  blue  passing 
oiniel-  into  green.  The  most  remarkable  specimens  of  Egyptian 
^  "*y  enamel  work  are  some  clay  plaques  or  slabs,  about  10 
inches  high,  which  were  used  to  decorate  tho  walls  of 
Ramcses  II.'s  palace  at  Tel  al-Ydhiidfya,  in  the  Delta 
(14th  cent.  B.C.).  These  have  figures  of  men  and  animals 
executed  in  many  different  colours  in  the  most  complicated 
(knd  ingenious  manner.  They  are  partly  modelled  in 
(light  relief,  and  then  covered  with  coloured  enamels ;  in 
pther  parts  a  sort  of  mosaic  has  been  made  by  mi.xing 
fine  clay  and  enamels  into  soft  pastes,  the  design  being 
fitted  together  and  modelled  in  these  coloured  pastes 
while  moist.  The  slab  was  then  fired,  and  the  enamel 
pastes  were  at  once  vitrified  and  fixed  in  their  places 
by  the  heat.  A  third  process  applied  to  these  elaborate 
slabs  was  to  fit  into  cavities  left  for  them  certain  small 
pieces  of  coloured  glass  or  brilliant  enamels,  giving  tho 
effect  of  precious  stones,  which  were  fused  into  their 
places  by  a  second  firing.  The  chief  figures  on  tho 
plaques  are  processions  of  captives,  about  8  inches  high ; 


the  enamel  fiesh  is  varied  accordmg  to  the  nationality  of 
the  prisoners:  negroes  are  black,  others  white,  red.  or 
yellow.  Some  of  the  dresses  are  represented  with  great 
richness :  various  embroidered  or  textile  patterns  of  the 
most  minute  scale  are  shown  by  enamel  inlay  of  many 
colours,  and  even  jewel  ornaments  are  sho^vn  by  the 
inserted  bits  of  glass ;  the  dress  of  some  Assjrrian  captives 
has  patterns  of  great  beauty  and  richness,  — the  sacred 
tree  between  the  guardian  beasts,  and  other  figures. 
Besides  these  elaborate  figure-reliefs  an  enormous  numbeif 
of  smaller  pieces  of  clay  inlaid  with  different-coloiu-ed 
pastes  were  used  to  form  a  sort  of  mosaic  wall-decoration 
in  this  wonderful  palace,  the  ruins  of  which  have  supplied 
a  perfect  museum  of  all  kinds  and  methods  of  enamelled 
work  as  applied  to  pottery.  The  British  Museum  and  thf 
Louvre  have  the  finest  specimens  of  these  wall-slabs  (sei 
Birch,  Ancient  Pottery,  p.  51,  1873). 

The  term  "Egyptian  porcelain"  has  sometimes  been  giver 
to  the  small  mummy-figures  in  brilliant  blues  and  greens. 
This  is  a  misnomer.  The  little  figures,  about  3  to  6 
inches  high,  of  which  immense  ntunbers  have  been  found, 
mostly  dating  from  about  the  XXth  Dynasty  downwards, 
are  simply  formed  of  sand  (silica)  with  a  little  alkali,  and 
only  sufficient  clay  to  cement  them  together,  so  that  thsy 
could  retain  the  form  given  them  by  the  .  mould  into 
which  they  were  pressed.  The  result  of  analysis  is  silicj 
92,  alumina  4,  and  a  slight  but  varying  proportion  of 
soda.  They  are  covered  with  a  silicious  glaze,  brilliantly 
coloured  with  copper  oxide,  and  are  sometimes  painted 
imder  the  glaze  -with  manganese,  a  deep  purple -violet. 
A  few  of  these  figures,  and  also  small  statuettes  of  deities, 
have  had  oxide  of  tin  mixed  with  the  paste ;  the  figure 
has  then  been  exposed  to  sufficient  heat  to  fuse  the 
whole  into  one  homogeneous  vitreous  mass",  and  thus  the 
statuette  has  become  a  solid  body  of  fine  blue  enamel 
A  few  small  objects — such  as  libation  cups,  bowls,  and 
chaUce-like  goblets — were  also  made  of  the.  same  sandy 
paste,  covered  with  blue-green  glaze.  They  are  thick  and 
clumsy  ovsing  to  the  very  unplastic  nature  of  their  paste, 
which  necessitated 
their  being  pressed 
in  a  mould,  not 
wheel-made.  The ! 
splendour  of  their 
colour,  however, 
makes  them  objects 
of  great  beauty ; 
they  usually  have  a 
little  painting,  lightly  executea  m  outline  with  manganese 
purple,  generally  a  circle  of  fishes  swimming  or  designs 
taken  from  the  lotus-plant  {see  fig.  8). 

During  the  XVHIth  and  XlXth  Dynasties  and  later  Wall- 
pottery   was   used   in    many  ways   fcr  wall-decoration,  t''**- 
Bricks  or  tiles  of  coarse  brown  clay  were  covered  with  a 
fine  white  slip  and   glazed  with   brilliant 
colours.     Another  method  was  a  sort  of  in- 
lay, formed  by  staraiiing  incised  patterns 
into  slabs  of  clay  and  filling  up  the  sinkings  ^ 
with  a  semi-fluid  clay  of  some  other  colour, 
exactly  like  the  16th-century  Oiron  ware. 
A  number  of   brilliant   wall-tiles   covered 
with  deep  blue  glaze,  and  painted  in  black 
outline  with  figurea  and  hieroglyphs,  have 
been  found  in  many  places  in  Lower  Egypt ; 
the  painting  is  very  simple  and  decorative  in  P'o-  6.— Egypt- 
effect,  drawn  with  much  skill  and  precision      '"^    Canopio 
of  touch. 

The  Canopio  ■  vases  are  an  important  class  and  great  Canopic 
quantities  have  been  found  in  Egyptian  tombs.     They  are  ^'*- 
generally  made  of  plain  brown-red  clay,  and  have  a  lid  in' 


Flo.  6. — Egyptian  Uae-glazed  pottery. 


604 


POTTERY 


[ASSYRIAN. 


Fig.  7. — Egyptian  pottery  under 
the  Ptolemies,  showing  Greek 
influence  in  the  shapes. 


the  shape  of  a  human  head.  On  them  hieroglyphs  are 
coarsely  painted  in  black  or  colours  (see  fig.  6).  They 
contained  parts  of  the  viscera  of  the  corpse.  The  mummies 
themselves  are  frequently  decked  out  with  pectoral  plates, 
necklaces,  and  other  ornaments,  made  of  clay  covered  with 
blue  and  other  coloured  enamels.  Some  of  the  pectoral 
plates  are  very  elaborate  works  of  the  same  class  as  the 
figure-reliefs  from  Tel  al-YAhddfya,  richly  decorated  vrith 
inlay  of  different-coloured  pastes  and  enamels. 

During  the  Ptolemaic  period  a  quantity  of  graceful  and 
well-executed  pottery  was 
made  in  fine  red  and  brown 
ilay,  mostly  without  any 
painted  decoration.  Some  of 
the  vases  are  of  good  form, 
owing  to  the  influence  of  Greek 
taste  (see  fig.  7) ;  others  are 
coarsely  decorated  with,  rude 
painting  in  blue,  green,  red, 
yellow,  and  brown,  either  in 
simple  bands  or  with  lotus  and 
other  flower-patterns  (see  fig. 
8).  Both  the  body  of  the  vases 
ind  the  colours  are  usually 
quite  devoid  of  any  gloss.  The 
duller  colours  are  various 
sarths,  ochre,  and  white  chalk, 
while  the  bright  blues  and  greens  are  produced  by  mixing 
powdered  enamel  of  the  required  colour  with  light^coloured 
clay,  the  depth  of  the  tint,  de-  y^ 
pending  on  the  proportion  of  i 
the  clay  or  chalk.  I 

Certain  very  gaudy  and  I 
ugly  pots  werb  made  to  imi-  ^  i 
tate  granite  and  steatite  ves-  ~ 
sels  (see  fig.  8).  They  are  of 
brown  ■  clay,  rudely  dabbed 
and  speckled  with  brown,  red, 
yellow,  and  grey  colours  to 
represent  the  markings  of  the  fi".  8.— Egyptian  pottery  with 
stone;  others  are  yeUow,  with  P'^i^nt"™""'"'  ^'^  '^''°' 
grey  streaks  —  imitations  of 

marble ;  most  have  a  painted  white  tablet,  on  which  are 
hieroglyphs  in  black.  The  pigments  are  very  shiny  in 
texture,  and  appear  to  be  Unfired.  Among  the  most  deli- 
cate and  carefully  made  kinds  of  Egyptian  pottery  are  the 
round  flat  flasks  shaped  rather  like  the  mediaeval  "pil- 
grim-bottle" (see  fig.  9).  They  are  sometimes  made  of 
blue  paste,  fine  clay  coloured 
with  oxide  of  copper,  and  are 
delicately  enriched  with  im- 
pressed ornaments,  stamped 
from  a  mould,  in  low  relief  or 
slightly  incised.  The  orna- 
ment is  often  designed  like  a 
gold  necklace  hung  round  the 
bottle ;  others  have  tablets 
with  inscriptions.  The  surface  is  biscuit ;  and  the  flasks 
:ange  in  colour  from  light  turquoise  to  deep  ultramarine, 
the  colour  not  being  superficial  but  of  equal  strength  all 
through  the  paste.  Small  vases  of  other  forms,  made  of 
his  same  material,  also  Occur,  but  they  are  rare. 

Literature. — Wilkinson,  Aincieni  Egyptians  (ed.  Birch,  1878) ; 
Birch,  Ancient  Pottery,  .1873.  A  large  number  of  works  on  ancient 
Egypt  have  some  account  of  the  pottery,  but  none  are  specially 
devoted  to  the  subject.  The  most  valuable  contribution  to  the 
chronological  arrangement  of  Egyj.tian  pottery  is  contained  in  an 
article  by  Flinders  Petrie,  publislitd  in  the  Archsological  Journal 
for  18S3,  vol.  xl.  p.  269.  See  also  Pierret,  Dictionnaire  d'Archio- 
hgie  Eyypiienve,  1875  ;  De  Roug6,  jStucks  £gyptplogiques,  1880  ; 
and  Maiiette,  Moriutnmts  du  Music  .  .  .  d  Boulaq,  1861. 


Fig.  9. — Egyptian  pottery  made 
of  fine  blue  paste. 


Section  III. — Assyeian. 


But  little  remains  to  us  of  the  pottery  of  the  primitive 
Accadian  races  of  Babylonia  and  Assyria.  It  was  all 
extremely  simple  and  undecorated,  partly  hand-made  and 
partly  wheel-made,  mostly  graceful  and  natural  in  form, 
owing  its  beauty  chiefly  to  the  simple  elegance  of  its 
shape  and  the  fine  material  of  which  it  was  made, — the 
close-grained  light  yellow  and  brown  clays  in  which  the 
coimtry  between  the  Tigris  and  the  Euphrates  is  so 
rich.  The  great  city  of  Babylon — "figulis  munitam 
urbem,"  as  Juvenal  (x.  171)  calls  it — was  essentially  a 
brick  city,  -and  depended  for  its  magnificence  to  a  great 
extent  on  such  decoration  as  the  potter  could  supply. 
Herodotus  and  Ctesias  describe  its  lofty  circuits  of  brick 
walls,  the  two  inner  walls  lined  with  bricks  enamelled  in 
various  colours,  with  figure -subjects,  scenes  of  war  and 
hunting  (see  Babylon).  The  technical  methods  and 
enamel  pigments  used  in  Assyria  and  Babylonia  were  for 
the  most  part  the  same  as  those  used  in  Egypt ;  but  the 
Assyrian  potters  understood  the  use  of  oxide  of  lead  as  a 
flux  to  mix  both  with  glazes  and  enamels, — an  admixture 
which,  though  it  to  some  extent  irjures  the  durability  of 
the  vitreous  surface,  enables  it  to  be  applied  with  greater 
ease,  and  to  less  sUicious  clays,  without  fear  of  its  cracking 
off  or  blistering  in  the  kiln. 

'  The  ruined  palaces  of  Babylon  and  Nineveh  have  supplied 
great  quantities  of  bricks  painted  in  various  colours,  some 
as  early  as  the  12th  century  B.C.     The  colours  applied  are 
of  two  distinct  classes,^ — (1)  ihoToughly .vitrified  enamels, 
often  coarse  and  bubbly  in  texture,  aiid  applied  in  con- 
siderable body,  which  are  mostly  brilliant  though  harmoni- 
ous in  tint,  with  a  hard  vitreous  surface ;  (2)  earth  colours, 
chiefly  ochres  in  various  shades   of   quiet  yellows  and 
browns,  owing  their  colours  to  diSerent  iron  oxides  and 
a  pure  white  made  of  lime.   .  The  earth  colours  are  very 
thinly  applied,  and  have  no  surface   gloss.      Paintings 
executed   in  this  manner  were  neither  so  hard  nor  so 
durable  as  those  in  the  vitrified  enamels,  and  were  prob- 
ably used  mainly  for  panels  of  ceilings  and  the  upper 
parts  of  walls,  which  were  out  of  the  reach  of  ordinary 
wear  or  injury.     In  a.few  paintings  both  methods  are 
combined.     The  bricks  themselves  are  of  light  brown  or 
yellowish  clay,  with  which   a  considerable   quantity  of 
straw  was  mixed.     This  was  burned  out  in  the  firing,  and 
so  cavities  were  left,  making  the  bricks  light  and  porous 
Many  of  the  enamelled  bricks  are   moulded'  in   relief, 
with  simple  patterns  of  leaves,  interlacing  bands,  waves, 
and  the  like,  and  were  used  to  form  cornices  and  nmning 
bands  above  and  below  the  flat  friezes  or  dados  painted 
with  human  figures.     The  reliefs  are  picked  out  in  colours 
with  enaniel,  white,  yellow,  deep  orange,  soft  red,  brown, 
green,  and  blue,  the  enamel  being  sometimes-  nearly  one- 
eighth  of  an  inch  thick     A  common  size  for  the  bricks 
is  12  to  14  inches  long  by  6  to  7  wide,  and  about  4 
inches  thick.      Sometimes   two  or   three  courses  go  to 
make  a  single  moulded  band.     The  British  Museum  and 
the  Louvre  possess  the  best  specimens  of  these  enamelled 
architectural  features.     The  finest  examples  of  pictured 
bricks  were  found  in  the  great  palace  at  Nimriid ;  they 
appear,  judging  from  the  imperfect  fragments  that  remain, 
to  illustrate  a  victorious   expedition   by  the  Assjrriana 
against  a  foreign  nation.     The  paintings  represent  long 
Enes   of    captives,   and    processions    of    the   conquering 
Assyrians  on  foot,  on  horseback,  and  in  chariots.     They 
are  executed  on  grounds  of  different  colours — dull  green, 
yellow,_and  blue — and  show  a  strong  feeling  for  harmony 
of  colour  and  great  skill  in  decorative  arrangement ;  the 
figures  are  about  9  inches  high.     Some  complete  paint- 
ings were  executed  on  one  slab  or  panel.     A  fine  ona 


Painti 
bricke 


A8SYE1AN.T 


POTTERY 


606 


about  9  inches  by  12,  also  found  at  Nimrud,  and  now  in 
the  British  Museum,  has  a  picture  of  the  Assyrian  king 
under  a  fringed  canopy  giving  audience  to  an  officer.  The 
king  is  followed  by  an  attendant  eunuch. 

In  addition  to  figure-subjects  and  ornaments,  large  wall- 
surfaces  were  covered  with  cuneiform  inscriptions,  having 
letters  about  H  inches  high  painted  in  white  and  yellow 
on  blue  or  green  grounds ;  these  are  executed  on  large 
slabs  of  coarse  brown  clay,  to  which  a  smooth  surface,  fit 
for  painting,  has  been  given  by  a  thin  coating  or  slip  of 
fine-ground  yellowish  clay.^  Large  slabs  with  pendants 
for  ceilings,  painted  in  the  same  way  mth  very  graceful 
patterns,  have  been  found,  all  in  simple  -earth  colours. 
Another  even  more  magnificent  application  of  the  potter's 
art  to  wall-decoration  was  by  the  use  of  coloured  enamel 
pastes,  like  those  described  under  the  pottery  of  Egypt. 
These  are  reliefs  modelled  by  h-and,  or  pressed  into  clay 
moulds  and  then  touched  up  by  a  modelling  tool.  The 
smaller  ones,  with  delicately-executed  figures  in  low  relief, 
are  all  in  paste  of  one  colour — blue — with  sufficient 
enamel  added  to  the  clay  to  give  it  a  brilliant  tint,  but  not 
sufficient  for  complete  vitrification.  Other  fragments  exist 
of  Ufe-size  or  even  colossal  figures,  both  in  the  round  and 
in  high  relief,  worked  in  pastes  of  many  colours  in  a  kind  of 
mosaic  fashion,  extremely  brilliant  and  striking  in  effect. 

The  most  remarkable  application  of  pottery  in  Assyria 
and  Babylonia  was  its  use  for  literary  records.  Tablets, 
cylinders,  and  polygonal  prisms  were  impressed  with  cunei- 
form 'characters  in  the  moist  clay,  and  then  baked,  thus 
forming  the  most  imperishable  of  all  kinds  of  MSS.  (cp. 
Babylonia,  vol.  iii.  p.  191).  The  large  inscribed  cylinders 
and  prisms  were  made  hollow,  and  turned  on  the  potter's 
wheel.  The  prisms  were  firsl  nioulded  in  a  circular  shape, 
the  sides  'being  afterwards  made  flat  by  slicing.  All  are 
circular  inside,  and  bear  distinct  ring-like  marks,  showing 
the  movement  of  the  wheel  as  they  were  scooped  out  by 
the  potter's  thumb. 

The  vases  and  domestic  vessels  of  Assyria  tnay  be  divided 
into  four  classes, — (1)  plain  biscuit  clay,  undecorated;  (2) 
biscuit  clay  with  painted  decorations  ;  (3)  fine  clay  stamped 
■with  minute  reliefs  ;■  (4)  clay  glazed  or  enamelled. 

(1)  By  far  the  greater  proportion  of  the  pottery  belongs  to  the 
first  class.  It  is  frequently  giacefiil  in  shape,  is  well  made  and 
baked,  and  is  of  a  fine  close  clay,  generally  light  in  colour.     Fig.  10 


Fio.  10.— A    ,  uit  pottery, 

shows  some  of  the  commonest  forms.  Some  specimens  have  cunei- 
form inscriptions  incised  with  a  pointed  tool  in  the  same  way  as 
the  Cylinder  letters.  The  coarser  clays  are  usually  covered  with  a 
fine  whitish  slip,  and  a  rather  rare  variety  of  the  pottery  is  made 
throughout  of  a  close-grained  almost  white  clay.  One  sort  of 
pottery,  of  which  very  few  specimens  have  been  found,  has  simple 
patterns  incised  on  the  grey  body  of  the  vessel  ;  these  patterns 
were  then  made  conspicuous  by  being  filled  in  with  white  clay,  a 
method  of  inlay  like  that  used  in  Egj^tt.  (2)  Very  few  examples 
of  the  second  class  are  known.  Some  vases  of  brown  clay,  covered 
with  white  slip,  have  rude  paintings  of  human  figures,  bowmen 
»nd  other  soldiers,  executed  in  brown  outline,  with  rapid  and  skilful 
louch.  Others  have  cuneiform  inscriptions  and  geometrical  floral 
patterns  painted  in  silica  and  lime-white  with  yellow  and  brown 
pchres.  "They  api«ar  to  belong  to  the  9th  century  B.C.  Both 
the, claj-< body  and  the  earth  pigments  arc  quite  free  from  any 
JUreou3_  gloss  in  all  this  class  of  ware.  A  few  fragments  have 
been  Xound  of  a  coarse   brown   pottery,   decorated  with   simple 


patterns  in  gold  leaf,  applied  after  the  ware  was  fired.  (3)  A 
very  fine  sort  of  Assyrian  pottery,  of  which  examples  exist  dating 
from  the  10th  to  the  8th  century  B.C.,  is  made  of  a  close-grained 
ivory-white  clay,  or  else  sl  hard  greyish  black  clay  ;  the  surface 
is  biscuit,  and  is  ornamented  with  bands  of  human  figures  iu  relief, 
— soldiers,  captives,  royal  personages,  and  otiiers,  with  representa- 
tions of  cities,  all  most  minutely  executed,  the  figures  scarcely  an 
inch  high.  Other  bands  have  cuneiform  inscriptions,  also  in  deli- 
cate relief.  The  bands  appear  to  have  been  formed  by  rolling 
a  cylinder  die  of- mould  over  the  surface  of  the  clay  while  soft  anu 
moist.  The  few  specimens  of  this  pottery  that  h;/ve  been  found 
are  mostly  iu  the  form  of  cylindrical  drinking-cups.  This  method 
of  decoratiou  is  one  largely  used  in  the  earliest  variety  of  Etruscan 
pottery.     (4)  Glazed  and  enamelled  pottery  (see  fig.^11)  is  more 


y      ^  w^"^^  —  y 

Flo.  11. — Ass}Ti.'in  glazed  and  enamelled  pottery. 

abundant ;  it  consists  chiefly  of  small  articles  of  fine  clay,  bottles, 
two-handled  jugs,  miniature  amphoroe,  and  pilgrim -flasks,  very 
carefully  made,  and  apparently  articles  of  luxury.  Some  are  of 
white  clay,  covered  with  a  colourless  glaze  of  silicate  of  soda, 
rendered  more  fusible  by  the  addition  pf  oxide  of  lead.  Partly 
owing  to  this  addition  the  glaze  is  generally  in  a  very  decora- 
posed  state,  often  presenting  the  most  brilliant  iridescent  coloure. 
Other  examples  are  coated  in  a  similar  w.ay,  except  that  the  trans- 
parent glaze  is  tinted  a  brilliant  blue  or  green  with  oxides  of 
copper,  very  like  the  blue  glaze  so  much  used  in  Egypt,  but  usually 
less  hard  and  bright  in  colour.  A  few  small  specimens  have  been 
discovered  coated  with  a  white  tin  enamel.  Both  the  glazed  and 
the  enamelled  pottery  is  undecorated  by  any  painting. 

At  Warka  (the  Chaldcean  Erech)  a  large  number  of  Clay 
very  curious  clay  coffins  were  found  in  cave-tombs  stacked  cofEus. 
closely  one  upon  another.  They  are  made  of  coarse  claj', 
and  bear  outside  patterns  rudely  stamped  in  blunt  relief ; 
the  whole  is  covered  with  a  plumbo-silicious  green  glaze. 
They  are  about  7  feet  long  and  very  peculiar  in  form ; 
the  body  was  introduced  through  an  oval  opening  at  the 
head,  over  which  a  similarly  glazed  clay  lid  fitted  closely. 
These  coffins  are  probably  not  earlier  than  the  Sasanian 
period.  Clay  coffins  of  much  greater  antiquity  have  been 
found  in  Babylonia,  but  they  are  of  plain  biscuit  clay. 

Lilcralnrc. — Laj'aid,  various  works  on  Nineveh  and  Babylon  ; 
Rich,  Babylonand  Pcrscpolis;  Loftus,  Chiddica  and  Susinna,  1857  ; 
Oppert,  Expidition  Scicniifiquc  en  Mesopotamic  ;  Lepsius,  Dad- 
mdler,  part  ii.  p.  163;  Botta,  Monument  do  Ninive,.  1847-50; 
P'ace,  Hinivc  c(  l'./lsst/ric,  1866-69. 

Section  IV. — Phcenician  and  other  AkchaiCj  Classes. 

The  discoveries  of  recent  years  have  opened  out  a  newPhoni- 
field  in  the  history  of  the  origin  and  growth  of  Hellenic  art,  "^" 
especially  as  relating  to  pottery.  Excavations  in  Cyprus,  I'^^'^r 
Rhodes,  Thera  (Santorin),  the  plains  of  Troy,  Jlycenrc, 
Attica,  and  the  coasts  of  southern  Italy  have  revealed 
the  existence  of  an  abundant  class  of  pottery  of  great 
antiquity,  a  large  part  of  which,  in  its  forms  and  decora- 
tion, appears  to  have  been  due,  directly  or  indirectly,  to 
the  Phccnician.s.  The  designs  are  of  a  curiously  complex 
character.  Purely  Assyrian  motives,  such  as  the  sacred 
tree  with  its  guardian  "cherubs,"  are  mingled  with  figures 
and  ornaments  peculiar  to  Egj'pt ;  other  characteristics 
which  modify  and  blend  those  two  styles  seem  due  to  the 
Phanicians  themselves ;  while,  lastly,  various  local  influ- 
ences are  shown  in  the  representations  of  such  plants  and 
animals  as  were  commonest  in  the  special  place  where  the 
pottery  happened  to  bo  made.  Possibly  some  of  the 
designs,  such  as  the  sacred  tree  of  "Assyria,  might  be  traced 
farther  back  still,  to  the  distant  Asiatic  home  of  the  Indo- 
European  races  ;  but  any  derivation  of  this  kind  would, 
in.  our  presejit  state  cf  knowledge,  be  purely  conjix'tural. 


606 


POTTERY 


[PHffiXrCIAX  AND  ARCHAIC. 


The  islanas  of  Tiiera,  Khodes,  and  Cyprus,  which  were 
colonized  by  the  Phoenicians  at  a  very  early  period  (see 
PHffiificiA, ^vol.  xviiL.p.  804  sq.),  have  supplied  large 
quantities,  of  archaic  pottery,  ornamented  with  charac- 
teristically Phoenician  patterns  and  figures.  The  equally 
rich  finds  of  pottery  from  Mycense  and  the  Troad,  though 
not  free  from  Phcenician  influence,  have  mostly  a  more 
native  style  of  decoration.  Though  in  some  few  cases  the 
finding  of  Egyptian  objects  with  dated  hieroglyphs  sug- 
gests a  probable  age  for  the  pottery  they  were  found  with, 
yet  in  the  main  it  is  impossible  to  give  even  an  approxi- 
mate date  to  this  large  class  of  archaic  pottery.  Its  pro-' 
duction  evidently  extended  over  many  centuries,  and  little 
or  no  help  towards  a  chronological  classification  is  given  by 
any  clearly-defined  stages  of  artistic  development.  Some  of 
the  earlier  specimens  may  possibly  be  as  old  as  the  18th 
century  B.C.  (scarabs  of  Ainenhotep  III.  were  found  with 
pottery  in  Khodes),  while  later  ones,  not  very  different  in 
style,  were  probably  made  as  late  as  the  8th  century.^ 

Forms  and  Materials  of  Archaic  Pottery. — There  is  a 
special  charm  about  this  early  pottery.  Graceful  as  the 
Greek  vases  of  the  best  period  of  art  are,  there  is  some- 
thing rigid  and  slightly  mechanical  in  their  highly-finished 
beauty,  their  polished  surface,  and  their  shape,  accurately 
produced  after  some  fixed  model,  from  which  but  little 
deviation  was  permitted.  Endless  varieties  of  form  occur 
in  archaic  pottery,  changing  with  the  mood  and  indi- 
viduality of  each  potter  ;  full  of  spirit  and  life,  in  their  easy 
grace  and  the  multiplicity  of  their  flowing-  lines,  these 
simple  clay  vessels  give  one — more  perhaps  than  any  other 
works  of  art — that  keen  assthetic  pleasure  which  consists 
in  a  retrospective  sympathy  with  the  joy  that  the  artist 
took  in  his  own  handiwork.  Extreme  fertility  of  inven- 
tion, as  well  as  the  utmost  freedom  of  touch  in  the 
manipulation  of  the  revolving  mass  of  clay,  are  its  chief 
characteristics.     Fig.  12  gives  some  of  the  many  forms. 


Fig.  12.  — Shapes  of  arciaic  pottery.' 
It  is  usually  thin,  light,  and  well  baked,  formed  either  of 
pale  buff,  whitfeh,  or  straw-coloiued  clay ;  or,  if  a  darker 
clay  is  used, 'the  surface  is  generally  covered  ^vith  a  fine 
white  slip  composed  of  silica,  lime,  and  a  little  alumina. 
Thb  forms  a  ground  for  the  painting,  which  is  executed 
in  ochre  earths,  browns,  and  reds  of  different  shades,  the 
colours  of  which  are  due  to  oxides  of  iron.  Most  of  the 
pottery  is  biscuit,  clay  ground  and  painted  ornament  being 

1  See  Sohliemau'u,  Mycenx  (1877),  Troy  (1875),  and  Ilios  (1880) ; 
'Cesnola,  Cyprus,  1877  ;  Dumont,  Las  Cemmiques  de  la  Grlce,  1881 ; 
Salzniann,  Nicrropole  de  Camiros,  1374-75. 


alike  free  from  any  gloss ;  but  in  some  caSes  silica  and 
an  alkali  (probably  carbonate  of  soda)  have  be?n  added 
to  the  ochre  pigment,  which  has  thus  become  vitrified  in 
the  kiln  and  acquired  a  glossy  surface.  This  does  not 
occur  among  the  earlier  specimens.  • 

Enamelled  Pottery. — In  some  of  the  tombs  in  iEgina 
and  Rhodes  a  quantity  of  small  vases,  statuettes,  and 
other  objects  have  been  found,  executed  under  Egyptian 
influence,  with  decoration  of  various  coloured  enamels. 
The  colours  used  and  the  methods  of  manipulation  re- 
semble the  enamel  work  of  Egypt  so  closely  as  to  need 
no  special  description.  Some  fine  pUgrim -flasks  of  blue 
and  green  have  blundered  copies  of  hieroglyphs  and  repre- 
sentations of  Egyptian  deities  incised  in  the  moist  day. 
Less  purely  Egyptian  in  style  are  certain  small  vases  (see 
fig.  13),  coarsely  ornamented  with  bands  and  chevrons  in 
various  enamels — white,  blue,  green, 
purple-brown,  and  yellow.  The  Louvre 
and  the  British  Museum  have  the  best 
specimens  of  these.  Small  vases,  ex- 
actly similar  in  design  and  execution  to 
those  from  jEgina  and  Rhodes,  have  been 
found  in  the  tombs  of  Vulci  and  other 
places  in  Etruria,  probably  brought  there 
by  Phoenician  traders,  to  whose  inter- 
course with  Egypt  and  knowledge  of  the 
Egyptian  designs  and  mechanical  pro-  Fig.  13. — Euamelled 
cesses  the  existence  of  the  enamelled  pot-  pottery  from  tombs 
tery  of  Rhodes  is  probably  due.  Other 
specimens  have  been  found  in  the  re- 
cently discovered  Etruscan  necropolis  on 
the  Esquiline  in  Rome.^  One  curious  variety  of  early 
pottery  is  of  a  fine  glossy  red  like  the  later  Samian  ware. 
Its  smooth  surface  of  rich  red  is  due  to  the  application  of 
a  thin  finely-ground  mixture  of  silica,  soda,  and  some  alu- 
mina, forming  a  %-itreoTis  enamel  to  which  the  opaque  red 
colour  was  given  by  a  large  proportion  of  oxide  of  iron 
(see  fig.  14).     Some  of  this  red  pottery  is  of  extreme  anti- 


in  Rhodes,  made 
under  Egyptian  in- 
fluence. 


Fio.  14. — Prehistoric  red  pottery  from  the  Troad  and  ilycenss. 

quity;  it  is  either  smooth  and  vmdecorated,  or  has  rudely- 
incised  hatchings  and  zig-zags,  scratched  down  to  the  claj 
body  of  the  vessel  through  the 
red  enamel.  Another  variety 
of  very  early  pottery  from 
Mycenae  and  the  Troad  is  of  a 
hard  black  clay,  with  glossy 
surface  (see  fig.  15). 

Painted  Ornament  on  Archaic  ^^^^^^^^^^Hj^Bjk    <^ 
Vases. — This  may  be  divided  t^^K^^B^^^^^^mi  j> 
roughly  into  four  classes.     (1) 
Hatchings,    concentric    circles, 
chevrons,  and  other  simple  com- 
binations of  lines,  arranged  fre- 
quently   in    designs    obviously  Fia.    18.  — Prehistoric      .aok 
suggested  by  matting  or  textile      P°"*''y  ^°^  *•>«  ^"""^  "^ 

r    1      •  11  •  ill  YC6tIdS. 

labrics,   and    also   various   ar- 
rangements of  spirals,  apparently  taken  from  patterns  uajd 
in  metal-work.     Some  of  the  designs  of  this  class  seem 
*  See  Ann.  Just.,  1882,  p.  2. 


1 


PH(E:fiaA2I  A\D  ABCHAIC] 


POTTERY 


607 


common  to  all  races  of  men  in  an  elementary  stage  of 
progress,  and  occur  on  the  earliest  known  pottery,  that 
of  the  Neolithic  age  (see  fig.' 16):  '  (2)  Representations  of 


Fjq.  16. — Archaic  vessels  decorated  with  simple  line  ornament. 

plants  (often  seaweeds)  and  marine  animals,  such  as  cuttle- 
fishes, meduscB,  and  star -fishes,  or  occasionally  aquatic 
birds.  This  class  of  ornament  appears  to  be  more  native 
in  character — derived,  that  is,  from  various  objects  with 


Fia.  17. — Archaic  pottery  decorated  with  natural  objects — cuttle-fish, 
aquatic  plant,  and  strips  of  seaweed. 

which-  the  potter  was  familiar — and  not  to  have ,  been  a 
Phoenician  import  (see  fig.  17).  (3)  Conventional  orna- 
ment, a  decorative  arrangement  in  bands  or  scrolls  of 
certain  plants,  such  as  the-lotus-or  papyrus  and  the  palm- 
tree.  This  class 
of  ornament  ia 
distinctly  Phoeni- 
cian, and  shows 
a  predominance, 
sometimes  of  As- 
8}rrian,  sometimes 
of  Egjrptian  influ- 
ence.(see  fig.  18). 
{4)  Very  rude  and 
badly- drawn  fig- 
ures of  men  and 
animals.  Theyare 


18. — Archaic  pottery  with  flower  ornament 
worked  into  conventional  patterns. 


mostly  purely  decorative  and  meaningless,  are  often  merely 
drawn  in  outline,  and  have  little  or  no  help  from  incised 
lines,  which  became  so  important  in  the  next  stage  of  the 
development  of  pottery.-  Some  of  the  figures  are  strongly 
Assyrian  in  character,  while  others  of  the  rudest  execution 
seem  to  be  native. 

It  appears  at  first  sight  as  if  there  was  a  distinct  chronological 
order  of  development  in  these  four  classes  of  ornament — growine 
from  simple  lino-patterns  to  the  copying  of  easily  rcpresfenten 
natural  objects,  then  to  the  invention  of  rcj^ular  goometncal  floral 
patterns,  and  lastly  arriving  at  the  rude  depiction  of  human  figures. 
Various  points,  however,  combine  to  contradict  such  a  theory  of 
arrangement,  such  as  the  combinations  in  which  these  vessels  have 
been  found,  the  manner  in  which  the  various  classes  of  ornament 
are  mingled  on  the  same  vase,- and  lastly  the  fact  that  some 
elaborate  and  highly- finished  vases,-  obviously  of  later  date,  arc 
decorated  solely  with  the  str.aight-line  and  hatched  patterns  of  the 
first  of  'lie  four  classes  of  ornament.     Again,  the  ornament  of  the 


second  class,  which  appears  to  be  native  anA  local,  can  hardly  be 
so  altogether.  Pottery  found  at  places  so  far  distant  as  Khodes 
and  Mycepae  has  in  some  cases  exactly  similar  painting  of  this  sort, 
showing  that  a  common  artistic  influence  was  at  work  in  both 
places.  The  whole  subject  is  a  Very  difficult  one,  and  little  that  is 
really  definite  can  be  asserted  about  it  -with  safety — at  least  as  yet. 
Fig.  19  gives  two  vases  of  great  interest.  One  shows  the  com- 
mon decoration  with  wheel-applied  circles,  and  also  the  Assyrian 


Fio.  19. — Early  vases  (oenochoae)  with  Assyrian  sacred  tree,  or  altar 
between  guardian  beasts. 

altar-liie  object  between  two  beasts  ;  the  other,  from  Cyprus,  hac 
the  Assyrian  sacred  tree,  with  similar  guardian  animals.  One  o( 
the  most  striking  characteristics  of  archaic  pottery  of  all  classes, 
and  especially  of  the  earliest,  is  the  great  use  made  of  the  potter's 
wheel  in  appl}'ing  the  painted  ornaments.  .  Very  many  of  the 
vessels  are  decorated  with  a  number  of  encircling  bands  or  lines, 
or  on  their  sides  -with  a  number  of  concentric  circles.  These  were 
easily  applied,  and  very  true  circles  were  obtained  by  setting  the 
pot  (after  it  was  dried  in  the  sun),  for  a  second  time  on  the  wheel, 
in  the  required  position,  either  on  its  side  or  upright  as  it  was  ori- 
ginally turned.  A  brush  held  against  the  revolving  vessel  marked 
out  the  bands  or  circles.  .A  very  interesting  votive  tablet  from 
Corinth  (now  in  the  Louvre),  probably  700-600  B.C.,  shows  a  potter 
at  work  in  his  shop,  applying  painted  bands  in  this  way.  He  sets 
the  wheel  in  motion  with  one  hand,  while  -with  the  other  he. holds 
the  brush  against  the  revolving  pot.  The  wheel  here  sho-ivn 
(see  .fig.  20)  is  one  of  the  earliest  form,  -without  the  lower  foot- 


Fia  20. — Votive  tablet  from  Corictli,  full  size  ;  a  potter  applying 
painted  bands  while  the  vessel  revolves  on  the  wheel. 

turned  disk.'  Tlie  smaller  circles  were  struck  out  with  compasses, 
the  central  point  of  whidi  has  usually  left  a  deep  mark.  The  patterns 
used  on  the  first  class  of  pottery  consist  mostly  of  straiglit  lines, 
hatched  and  crossed,  arranged  in  squares,  chevrons,  triangles,  and 
other  simple  figures,  combined  with  concentric  circles  or,  more 
rarely,  wavy  bands,  the  whole  arranged  frequently  in  very  com- 
plicated and  effective  patterns.  The  second  class  has  frequently 
varieties  of  seaweed  and  many  marine  creatsres,  all  treated  very 
simply,  but  drawn  with  great  skill  and  appreciation  of  the  character- 
istics of  each  object  and  its  decorative  capabilities.  The  third 
class — that  of  georhctrical  floral  patterns — has  but  little  variety. 
Some  of  the  lotus  patterns  are  almost  identical  with  those  used  in 
Egypt  and  Assyria,  and  continued  in  use  for  vase  decoration  down 
to  tlie  most  flourishing  period  of  Greek  art,  though  latterly  in  ,1 
stiff  and  rather  lifeless  form.     The  fourth  class — that  of  figure- 

Saintings — is  of  great  interest;  the  earlier  patterns  are  merely 
rawn  in  outline.  Fig.  21  shows  an  cenochoe.  from  Cj-prus,  now  in 
the  British  .Museum,  of  rather  coarso  red  clay  with  yellow^  slip, 
on  which  is  pencilled  in  outline  a  one-horse  chariot  driven  at 
full  spc(jd  by  a  slave  ;  behind  him  stands  a  bowman  sliooting  an 
arrow ;  the  whole  is  strikingly  Assyrian  in  style.  Another  a-no- 
choe,  found  in  Attica,  of  more  primitive  style,  has  a  central  band 

*  The  writer  of  the  article  in  Ann.  Inst.  (1882)  on  this  painting 
has  missed  the  chief  point  of  interest,  which  is  that  tlie  potter  is  using 
his  wheel,  not  to  mould  the  vase,  but  to  apply  the  bands  of  colour 
round  it. 


808 


POTTERY 


[archaic  METHODa 


covered  with  a  number  of  warriors  with  round  shields,  all  alike, 

most  rudely  executed  ;    almost  exactly  similar  figure-paintings 

occur  on  some  of  the  Mycenae 

pottery,  and  also  on  a  large 

amphora  from  Cyprus  (now 

in   the    British    Museum). 

which  has  many  bands,  on 

which   are  painted   in   red 

ochre    lines   of   men    with 

crested  heads  (looking  like 

North  -  American    Indians) 

riding   long  weasel -shaped 

horses.    Otner  bands  on  the 

same   vase   have   centaurs, 

foot -soldiers,    and    various 

beasts,  the  latter,  especially 

some    stags,    rather    better 

drawn.     They  are  painted 

in  coarse  dabs,  and,  except 

for  a  few  of  the  eyes,  have 

no  incised   lines.     Smaller 

ornanvents,  such  as  the  svas- 

tica   flf   and  .simple  forms 

of  rosettes,  are  often  used 

to  decorate  the  backgrounds 

^^^eat^L' extent\"s'i°n°lhe   ^'°-  21.-(Euochoe  with  painted  bow- 
succeeding  class  of  pottery.      ""^^  "^  »  '=''"'°''  ^"3^"^"  "^  **?'«• 

Among  the  earlier  pottery  from  Mycenae  and  the  Troad 
are  several  very  strange  vases  in  coarse  clay  rudely  modelled 
to  indicate  a  human  -form.  Some  have  the  upper  part 
formed  like  a  head,  very  like  the  Egyptian  Canopic  vases. 
A  great  number  of  "  pithi  "  (n-i6oi),  enormous  vases  shaped 
something  like  amphoras,  have  been  discovered  in  Rhodes, 
the  Troad,  and  other  places,  some  as  much  as  7  feet  high. 
Such  vessels  are  often  decorated  with  patterns  in  relief, 
chiefly  combinations  of  spirals  and  the  like,  some  closely 
resembling  the  designs  on  the  sculptured  architrave  from 
the  "Treasury  of  Atreus"  at  Mycenae. 
Vuee  Vases  with   Bands  or  Friezes  of  Animals  on  Grounds 

yiih  anl-  sprinkled  ivith  Flowers. — This  is  a  very  large  and  important 
mCs  and  (j^ss,  and  very  numerous  specimens  have  been  found  widely 
""^  scattered  over  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  (see  fig. 
22).  The  production  of  vases  of  this  style  appears  to  have 
lasted  for  many  centuries ; 
the  earlier  ones  are  rudely 
executed  induU  ochre  colours 
on  biscuit  clay,  like  most 
archaic  pottery,  while  the 
later  ones  have  paintings  in 
brilliant  black  enamel  on  a 
ground  of  red  clay,  thinly 
covered  with  a  true  vitreous 
glaze.  This  class  of  vase- 
painting,  though  mostly  the 
work  of  Greek  potters,  is  dis- 
tinctly Oriental  in  character, 
probably  Assyro-Phcenician. 
It  is  of  extreme  decorative 
richness  :  the  surfaces  of  the 
vases  are  well  covered,  and 
the  designs,  though  simply 
treated,  are  very  effective,  in 
many  ways  far  more  success- 
ful   as  works  of   decorative 


Fig.  22. — Vase  with  bands  of  ani- 
mals, Oriental  in  style,  (British 
Museum.) 


art  than  the  elaborate  and  exquisitely  drawn  figure-pictures 
on  later  Greek  vases.  The  ground  is  thickly  covered' with 
small  decorative  patterns ;  fig.  23  shows  those  used  on 
more  archaic  vases.  The  animals  that  occur  most  fre- 
quently on  the  bands  are  lions,  leopards,  bulls,  goats,  deer, 
with  various  birds,  such  as  cocks  and  swans,  and  also  griffins, 
sphinxes,'  and  sirens.  A  favourite  motive  of  design  is  the 
Bacred  tree  or  a  sort  of  column,  each  with  a  guardian  beast 
tit  the  sides.  This  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  all 
designs  in  the  history  of  ornament ;   it  dates  from  an 


Fig.  23. — Examples  of  small  ornaments  with 
which  the  ground  of  early  vases  is  ofteo 
studded. 


extremely  early  period,  was  used  in  ancient  Chaldsean  art. 
and  was  handed  on  by  the  Sasanians  to  the  Moslem  cot* 
querors  of  Persia ;  it 
survived,  though  al- 
tered and  after  its 
meaning  was  long 
•forgotten,  till  even 
the  15th  century  in 
the  textile  fabrics 
worked  in  Italy  after 
Oriental  designs.  The 
■column  between  the 
beasts  occurs  on  the 
Lion  Gate  of  Mycenae. 
In  the  later  art  of  the 
Persians  a  fire -altar 
takes  the  place  of  the 
column. 

Before  passing  on 
to  consider  the  vari- 
ous classes  of  distinctly  Hellenic  pottery  it  will  be  con- 
venient to  give  a  list  of  the  technical  methods  employed 
in  all  classes  of  pottery  found  in  Hellenic  sites,  and  also 
some  account  of  the  inscriptions  and  various  forms  of 
letters  which  are  found  on  Greek  vases. 

Technical  Methods  and  Inscriptions — Archaic  and  Oreek  Vases. 

1.  Prehistoric  Pottery  from  Mycenm,  the  Troad,  and  other  Sellenic  Fron. 
Sit^. — Materials:  yellow,  red,  or  black  clays;  composition,  sUi- Helle 
cate  of  alumina,  with  free  silica  and  lime,  coloured  by  different  silei. 
oxides  of  iron  ;  slip,  made  of  similar  clays  ground  to  a  smooth 
paste.    Methods  of  treatment :  (a)  plain  biscuit  clay ;  (6)  clay  covered 
with  fine  slip  ;  (c)  ornament  of  incised  patterns,  scratched  through 

the  slip  upon  the  body  of  the  pot,  and  sometimes  filled  in  with 
whiter  slip  to  make  a  conspicuous  pattern  ;  (rf)  pottery  of  hard  fine 
clay,  made  glossy  by  a  mechanical  polish.  Most  if  not  all  of  this 
pottery  was  made  without  the  wheel ;  but  some  was  so  skilfully 
modelled  as  to  make  it  difficult  to  distinguish  between  hand-made 
and  wheel-made  vessels. 

2.  Phxnician  and  other  Archaic  Pottery.  — This  and  all  succeeding  Phcfoi 
classes  are  wheel-made.  Materials :  clays  and  slip  as  class  1  ;  a  ciat  4 
quite  white  slip  was  also  used,  made  of  a  natural  sort  of  pipeclay, 

or  in  some  cases  of  a  mixture  of  lime  and  silica  with  a  little  clay  to 
bind  it  together.  Pigments :  earth-colours,  made  of  brown  and  red 
ochres,  occasionally  mixed  with  an  additional  quantity  of  oxide  of 
iron  and  free  silica.  Methods :  the  white  or  yellow  slip  wa!s  usually 
applied  while  the  vase  was  revolving  on  the  wheel,  either  with  a 
brush  or  by  the  potter  dipping  his  hands  into  a  bowl  of  fluid  slip 
just  before  finishing  the  final  modelling  or  throvring  of  the  vase  ; 
in  some  cases  it  has  been  applied  by  dipping  the  pot  into  the  slip. 
The  method  of  applying  the  painted  bands  is  shown  above  in  fig. 
20.  As  a  rule  these  vases  were  not  fired  at  a  sufficient  heat  to  give 
them  a  vitreous  gloss,  though  in  some  cases  the  heat  has  been 
enough  to  partly  vitrify  those  of  the  ochxe  colours  which  contained 
a  proportion  of  free  silica  and  alkali. 

3.  Vases  mth  Black  Figures  and  Incised  Lines. — Materials:  (a)  Wi'.n 
clay,  silica  56  per  cent.,  alumina  19,  red  oxide  of  iron  16,  lime  7^,  blac- 
magnesia  li  per  cent., — the  average  of  many  analyses ';  tfi)  slip,  the  fig-jr 
same  clay  finely  ground,  and  sometimes  tinged  a  deeper  red  with  and  ; 
additional  red  oxide  of  iron, — the  white  slip  is  like  that  in  class  cisei 
2  ;  (c)  glaze,  of  almost  imperceptible  thickness,  a  silicate  of  soda  :  lint 
(rf)  black  pigment, — a  true  vitreous  enamel,  which  owes  its  deep 
black  to  the  magnetic  oxide  of  iron  (composition — soda  17,  silica 

46,  alumina  12,  hlack  peroxide  of  iron  17,  lime  6  per  cent.) ;  (e) 
choeolate-red  pigment,  an  ochre  red  sometimes  mixed  with  finely- 
ground  fragments  of  red  pottery  ;  (/)  white  pigment,  like  the  white 
slip  of  class  2,— various  analyses,  silica  54  to  62,  almnina  34  to  43, 
lime  ^  to  3^  per  cent.  Methods  :  the  vase  was  first  turned  on  the 
wheel,  and,  in  order  to  give  the  pot  a  surface  of  deeper  red,  the 
slip  was  applied  by  a  brush  or  by  the  hands  of  the-potter  while  it 
was  still  revolving.  The  outline  of  the  design  was  next  roughly 
sketched,  either  with  a  point  or  in  light-red  ochre  with  a  brush. 
After  the  vase  had  dried  sufficiently  in  the  sun  so  as  to  become  firm, 
it  was  again  put  on  the  wheel,  and  the  glaze,  finely  powdered  and 
mixed  with  water,  was  applied  to  it  with  a  brush  as  it  revolved. 
The  vase  then  appears,  at  l^ast  in  some  cases,  to  Iiave  been  for  the 
first  time  fired  in  the  kiln  in  order  to  get  a  smooth  almost  non- 
absorbent  surface  for  the  use  of  the  painter.  In  other  cases  the 
materials  of  the  red  slip  and  the  silicate  glaze  were  mixed,  and  the 
two  applied  together,  as  was  done  in  the  case  of  the  Roman  Samian 
ware.    The  painter  next  set  to  work  and  put  on  the  black  enan.eS 


ABCHAIC  METHODS.] 


POTTERY 


609 


figures  and  oraaments  vrith  a  trash.  If  a  part  of  the  vase  round 
its  whole  circumference  was  to  be  black,  such  as  the  foot  and  neck, 
the  vase  was  again  set  on  the  wheel  and  the  black  enamel  put  on 
as  it  revolved.  This  repeated  use  of  the  wheel  for  the  application 
of  slip,  glaz'j,  and  black  enamel  was  in  order  to  secure  an  even 
coating  with  uniform  grain,  far  more  difficult  to  get  with  the  un- 
aided brush  The  grain  thus  produced  can  usually  be  distinctly 
traced  in  es.ch  of  the  three  coatings.  The  firing  of  the  black 
enamel  muf.t  have  been  done  with  great  care  and  skQl,  as  a  very 
Blight  chemical  change  in  the  black  oxide  of  ii'on  converts  it  into 
the  red  ox'.de.  Thus  the  same  stroke  of  a  brush  is  often  (in  the 
earlier -"as.;'!  of  this  class)  half  black  and  half  vermilion-red,  or  one 
side  of  a.  Vise  is  red  and  the  other  black,  according  as  it  has  been 
played  uTon  by  oxidizing  or  deoxidizing  products  of  combustion 
in  the  Win.  In  the  finest  vases  the  black  enamel  is  of  great 
beauty,  irith  wonderful  rich  softness  of  texture,  which  no  modern 
skill  h'li  been  able  to  approach.  The  tombs  of  Nola,  Capua,  and 
other  piaces  in  Magna  Grsecia  have  supplied  the  most  technically 
perfec'  vases,  both  for  the  fineness  of  their  clay  and  the  brilliance 
of  (tb  .ir  black  enamel.  After  the  firing  of  the  enamel  the  details 
were  Irawn  in  by  incised  lines,  cutting  through  the  enamel  down 
to  ti  ■  clay  body  of  the  vase.  The  clear  and  slightly-chipped  edges 
of  the  lines  show  that  they  were  done  after  firing,  when  the  black 
enamel  was  in  a  hard  vitreous  state.  This  must  have  been  done 
with  some  very  sharp  and  hard  point,  probably  a  natural  crystal  of 
diamond  or  corundum,  such  as  was  used  for  engraving  gems  ;  the 
incised  details  on  some  vases  are  of  almost  microscopic  minuteness.^ 
The  "non-vitreous"  colours,  red  and  white,  were  sometimes  ^t  on 
before,  sometimes  after  the  incised  lines.  They  were  fixed  in  their 
place  by  a  slight  firing,  not  enough  to  vitrify  them  or  to  soften  the 
edges  of  the  incLsed  lines  in  the  enamel.  Both  these  changes  have 
been  shown  to  take  place  under  a  not  very  violent  heat,  by  experi- 
ments made  by  the  present  writer  on  fragments  of  such  vases.  The 
white  was  used  to  depict  the  flesh  of  females  and  of  some  of  the 
gods,  such  as  Eros,  or  for  the  bodies  of  horses  and  the  hair  of  old 
men.  Chocolate-red  was  mostly  used  for  ornamental  touches  on 
dress,  armour,  harness,  and  the  like.  Both  are  used  in  painting 
ine  heraldic  beasts  or  ornaments  which  so  often  occur  on  the  round  • 
shields  of  Greek  warriors.  Both  the  white  and  red  are  applied  over 
the  black.  Thus  the  female  figures  are  first  completely  painted  in 
black,  and  the  white  afterwards  applied  over  the  face,  hands,  or 
other  nude  parts.- 

.  4.  Vases  with  lied  Figures. — The  inaterials  employed  and  the 
first  stages  in  the  manufacture  of  this  class  are  the  same  as  those 
of  class  3  ;  but,  instead  of  the  figures  being  painted  in  black,  the 
ground  is  covered  with  black  enamel,  and  the  figure-  left,  showing 
the  glazed  red  slip  which  covers  the  whole  vase.  This  method  pro- 
duced a  great  artistic  advance  in  the  beauty  of  the  figiu-e"!,  the  de- 
tails and  inner  lines  of  which  could  be  executed  with  freedom  and 
ease  by  brush-marked  lines  instead  of  by  the  laborious  process  of 
cutting  incised  lines  through  the  very  hard  black  enamel.  The 
outline  of  the  figures  was  drawn,  with  wonderful  .precision  and 
rapidity,  with  a  brush  fully  charged  with  fluid  enamel,  boldly 
applied  so  as  to  make  a  broad  line  or  band  about  one-eighth  of  an 
inch  wide  all  round  each  figiire,  one  edge  of  the  band  giving  the 
boundary  of  the  required  form.  DetaUs  and  inner  markings  were 
then  added  with  a  fine-pointed  brush  capable  of  making  the  thinnest 
and  most  delicate  strokes.  On  many  of  the  finest  vases  tho  contour- 
lines  of  muscles  and  other  markings  intended  to  be  less  salient  were 
painted  in  pale  brown  instead  of  black.  Last  of  all,  tho  main  part 
of  the  ground  between  the  black  outline  bands  was  filled  in.  Tho 
greater  thickness  of  the  enamel,  where  it  was  more  concentrated  in 
the  bands,  is  generally  visible  ;  the  enamel  used  for  filling  in  was 
thinner  because  it  spread  over  a  larger  space  as  it  flowed  Irom  the 
brash.  In  some  cases  a  face  or  other  part  has  had  a  thin  black  out- 
line before  tho  wider  band  was  put  on  ;  and  then  (hrce  distinct 
thicknesses  of  enamel  can  bo  seen,  the  thin  outline  standing  out 
perceptibly  more  than  the  rest.  It  is  evident  that  the  fluid  black 
enamel  was  applied  in  a  somewhat  tliick  viscid  state,  and  thus  a 
slight  degree  of  relief  was  often  produced,  enabling  black  li7ics  to 
show  over  the  black  ground,^as  is  the  case  some.imes  with  tho 
strings  of  lyres.  This  slight  relief  often  gives  additional  effect  to 
tho  treatment  of  curly  hair,  represented  by  a  series  of  dots  or.  glob- 
ules, as  in  tho  transitional  amphora  described  below  (p.  612).  This 
method  recalls  tho  free  use  of  the  drill  in  tho  representation  of  hair 
on  early  engraved  gems.  Touches  of  white  and  red  were  occasionally 
used,  as  in  the  preceding  class  of  vases,  but  to  a  much  more  limited 
extent.  Some  of  tho  finest  black  and  red  vases,  especially  speci- 
mens from  Nola,  Vulci,  and  Canua,  have  enrichments  in  gold 
applied  in  relief. 
S.  Polychromatic  Vases. — Malerials  :  the  same  as  in  the  preced- 

^  •*  yery  remarkable  early  vase,  in  the  collection  of  Countess  Dzialinaka  In 
P»n3,  IS  decorated  with  incised  lines  only,  the  whole  being  covered  with  the 
bUck  enamel. 

'Unfortunately  many  Greek  vases  have  been  much  injured  while  in  the 
ninds  of  dealers  by  tho  restoration  of  the  white  and  red  pigments.  Vnscs 
"Si"?  '"'''  ^^°  '*■"'  treated  should  be  washed  carefully  with  spirits  of  wine, 
wnicn  removes  the  modem  touches  without  iiyury  to  the  aiicicnt  pigmeu^. 


ing  class  with  the  addition  of  bright  red,  blue,  green,  and  gold. 
The  red  used  on  some  vases  is  an  oxide  of  iron  ;  but  a  very  brilliant 
minium  crimson  also  occurs,  which  appears  to  have  been  added  after 
the  final  firing,  and  is  not  therefore,  properly  speaking,  a  "ceramic  " 
pigment.  The  blue  and  green  are  ailfereut  oxides  of  copper,  fused 
with  silica  and  soda  to  mak6  a  bright  vitreous  enamel,  which  Was 
then  finely  powdered  and  mixed  with  a  proportion  of  white  pigmen' 
(silica  and  lime)  according  to  the  strength  of  the  tint  required. 
This  powdered  enamel  pigment  is  the  "  smalto  "  of  mediieval  Italian 
painters.  The  gold  was  applied  in  leaf,  not  on  the  flat  surface  of 
the  vase,  but  on  a  ground  modelled  in  slight  relief  with  semi-fluid 
slip  of  ordinary  fine  red  clay,  thus  very  much  enhancing  the  eflect 
produced  by  the  gold  leaf  Necklaces,  bracelets,  and  other  gold 
ornaments  are  always  modelled  in  perceptible  relief,  producing 
a  rich  eSect  which  no  merely  flat  application  of  gold  could  give. 
Polychromatic  vases  may  be  divided  into  four  main  classes,  (a)  Vases 
in  which  the  colours  are  used  as  additional  decoration  to  the  ordi- 
nary red  figures,  e.g.,  the  celebrated  amphora  from  Camiras  (Rhodes), 
with  the  scene  of  Peleus  winning  Thetis  as  his  bride  (see  Plate 
v.).  (6)  Vases  painted  in  brown  outline,  on  a  fine  white  slip, 
with  the  addition  of  red  and  yellow  ochre  colours,  and  occasionally 
a  little  gold,  e.g.,  the  cylix  in  the  British  Museum  with  Aphrodite 
seated  on  a  flying  swan  (see  Plate  V.) ;  this  is  a  rare  and  usually 
very  beautiful  variety,  and  is  more  fully  described  below  (p.  613). 
(c)  Attio  funeral  lecythi,  which  have  the  neck  and  foot  in  brilliant 
black  (wheel-applied)  enamel  and  the  main  body  of  the  vase  covered 
with  a  non-vitreous  white  slip.  The  design  was  sketched  in  rough 
outline  and  the  red  pigment  put  on  with  a  small  brush  over  the 
white  ground  The  drawing  is  generally  careless  and  rapid,  but 
often  shows  great  skill  and  beauty  of  touch.  The  colours,  generally 
red,  blue,  or  green,  were  then  thickly  and  often  clumsily  applied 
over  parts  of  the  red  outline  drawing,  mostly  over  the  draperies. 
These  vases  were  not  meant  to  be  handled,  as  their  colours  rub  o2 
very  easily :  they  were  simply  intended  for  sepulchral  purposes, 
either  to  hang  on  the  stele  or  within  the  tomb,  (rf)  Vases,  especiaUy 
from  Magna  Grscia,  such  as  rhytons,  small  cenochoae,  and  others, 
moulded  skilfully  in  a  variety  of  fanciful  shapes,  heads  of  animals 
or  deities,  sphinxes,  and  other  figures,  either  grotesque  or  beautiful. 
They  are  decorated  partly  with  the  Osual  red  figures,  and  with  the 
most  brilliant  black  enamel,  while  other  parts  are  painted  in  white 
and  brilliant  crimson  with  further  enrichments  in  gold  leaf,  These 
bright  colours  seem  to  have  been  applied  after  the  last  fii'ing,  and 
not  to  be  true  ceramic  colours. 

6.  Black  Vases  of  Metal-like  Designs. — These  vases  often  have  the  Metal- 
finest  sort  of  black  enamel,  especially  the  large  amphorje  from  Capua  like 
and  other  places  in  Magna  Grr.cia,  covered  all  over  with  fluting  or  black 
gadroons.   -  Some  have  wreaths  of  vine,  olive,  and  other  plants,  oi-  vases, 
imitations  of  gold  necklaces  modelled  in  slip,  slightly  in  relief,  and 
afterwards  covered  mth  gold  leaf.    A  number  of  "  phiala;  omphalse  " 
(saucer-shaped  vessels),  of  about  200  B.C.,  were  made  by  being 
pressed  into  a  mould,  and  were  thus  stamped  with  figures  in  relief, 

such  as  processions  of  deities  driving  chariots.  Some  of  these, 
made  in  Magna  Gracia  after  its  conquest  by  the  Romans,  have 
Latin  inscriptions.  One  made  at  Cales  is  inscribed  with  the  potter's 
name  C.  CANOLEIOS.  L.  F.  FECIT.  CALENDS  (see  Ann.  Inst., 
1883,  p.  C6).  Small  ajci  were  decorated  with  highly -finished 
figure-subjects,  stamped  on  emblemata  or  tablets  of  clay,  which 
were  embedded  in  the  vase  while  it  was  soft.  Such  elaborate  and 
metal-liko  pieces  of  pottery  are  entirely  covered  mth  black  enamel. 
They  are  often  of  ^eat  beauty,  both  in  the  composition  of  the  relief 
figures  and  in  their  delicate  execution.  Vases  of  this  cla%s  have 
been  found  entirely  covered  with  gold  or  silver  leaf,  copies  of  metal 
plate.' 

7.  Vases,  such  as  largo  asci,  many  from  Magna  Grwcia,  made  of 
simple  yellowish  biscuit  clay,  and  modelled  into  shapes  of  female 
heads,  or  covered  with  a  number  of  statuettes  of  female  figures. 
They  are  generally  painted  simply  in  distemper  in  "  non-ceramic  " 
colours  ;  but  they  fail  rather  under  the  head  of  TEnB.\-coTTA  (j.v.). 
Some  are  of  very  great  beauty,  and  are  covered  with  statuettes  very 
like  those  found  at  Tanagra. 

8.  Greek  Vases  of  Debased  Style,  last  period. — These  have  the 
usual  red  figures  ou  a  black  enamel  ground,  of  the  same  materials, 
and  applied  in  the  same  way  as  on  the  earlier  vases,  except  that 
the  black  enamel  is  much  thinner  and  very  inferior  in  quality,  fre- 
quently having  a  hard  metallic  gloss  instead  of  tho  soft  richness  ol 
the  earlier  vases.  A  gieat  part  of  tho  figui'cs  and  ornaments  is 
executed  in  white,  red,  brown,  and  yellow  pigments,  with  shading 
and  gradations  of  colour,  used  to  produce  an  eH'cct  of  relief,  whicu 
is  unsuited  to  vase-painting,  and,  especially  in  tho  later  examples, 
is  executed  with  extreme  rndcncss  and  clumsiness  of  drawing.  Vaso- 
painting  became  degraded  in  stylo  at  a  period  when  the  ofiicr  arts 
of  Greece  showed  but  little  signs  of  decadence,  and  ceased  altogether 
to  bo  practised  nearly  a  century  before  tho  Christian  era.  No 
painted  vases  were  found  in  tlio  buried  cities  of  Pompeii,  Hcrcu- 
laneum,  and  Stabia; ;  and  Suetonius  {Julius  Ctcsar,  c.  81)  mentions 
the  eagerness  with  wliicli  certain  Greek  vases  found  in  tombs  near 

3  See  Uttu  Jahii.  I'a^ii  mil  UcldxAmuck,  Leipsic,  lS6i.    , 


610 


POTTERY 


Inscrip- 
tions. 


Capna  were  sought  for.  The  floral '  ornaments  on  these  later  vases 
are  very  elaborate  and  realistic  compared  with  those  of  the  earlier 
period.  Bands  of  giaijefal  scroll-work  with  growing  foliage  are 
much  used,  often,  in  spite  of  their  attempted  relief,  very  beautiful 
and  much  superior  to  the  figure-subjects  which  accompany  them. 
Some  strikingly  resemble  in  style  the  painted  friezes  on  Porapeian 
walls,  and  have. lost  all  purely  ceramic  character. 

Two  abnormal  and  compaiatively  rare  methods  of  vase-painting' 
must  be  mentioned.  One  occurs  on  a  number  of  Corinthian  vases 
mostly  now  in  the  Louvre,  pseudo-archaic  in  style,  but  apparently 
of  th«  5th  century  B.C.  Such  were  first  covered  with  white  slip, 
which  was  in  turn  completely  covered  over  with  black  enamel. 
The  design  was  then  made  by  the  awkward  process  of  cutting  away 
the  black  in  parts  so  as  to  leave  black  figures  on  a  white  ground — 
a  kind  of  "sgraffiato."  Another  strange  method  was  practised  in 
southern  Italy  during  the  extreme,  decadence  of  vase-painting. 
The  whole  surface  was  covered  with  black  enamel,  and  the  figures 
were  afterwards  painted  in  red  over  the  black  so  as  to  imitate  the 
ordinary  Greek  vases  with  red  figures  and  a  black  enamel  painted 
round  them.  Most  specimens  are  mere-  feeble  imitations  of  the 
works  of  an  earlier  period  ;  but  a  cylix  in  the  Bpitish  Museum  is 
painted  in  this  style  with  a  graceful  seated  figure  of  Adonis 
or  Meleager, — a  very  remarkable  work,  executed  in  warm  browns 
and  yellows,  giving  the  effect  of  flesh,  and  shaded  and  touched 
with  high  lights  in  a  thoroughly  pictorial  manner,  which,  though 
on  a  miniature  scale,  recalls  the  best  wall-paintings  of  Pompeii  or 
Rome.  ■ 

Inscriptions  on  Vasts. — Inscriptions  are  very  numerous,  during 
the  middle  period  of  Greek  art,  while  on  the  most  archaic  vases 
and  those  of  the  decadence  they  are  mostly. absent.  They  are  of 
great  interest  in  the  history  of  Greek  palaeography,  but  are  not 
always  a  safe  guide  as  to  the  dates  of  vases,  because  archaic  forms 
of  letters  were  often  used  by  vase-painters,  long  after  other  forms 
of  letters  had  come  into  general  use.  Vase -inscriptions  maybe 
divided  roughly  under  two  heads — Ionian  and  Dorian,  the  latter 
occurring  mostly  on  the  numerous  vases  from  Corinth  and  her 
colonies.  The  accompanying  table'  shows  the  usual  forms  of 
letters  which  differ  from  the  New-Attic  alphabet ;  the  latter  is  still 
in  use,  and  has  been  but  little  changed  since  about  400  B.C.,  when 
the  long  vowels  were  introduced.  Some  of  the  early  letters  have 
no  representative  in  the  later  Greek  alphabet,  e.g.,  the  diganima 
F,  the  koppa  9>  and  the  aspirate  B  or  H. 


DORIAN. 


A 
C 
B 


IONIAN. 


OLD  ATTIC. 


NEW  ATTIC 


:> 


A 
A 


A 

r 


n  aspirate  

©  0  -  - 
t  

5  - 

r  - 

^^  koppa 

l>A  sail  — — 

©  - 


a  as2>irate — -    H  aspirate. 


I 

V 

r 


O 


y^  digan 


Q 

I 

A 

T7 

P 

-z 

CI 


One  of  the  earliest  vase-inscriptions  known  is  that  mentioned 
below  (see  fig.  24,  p.  611)  as  occurring  on  a  "pinax,"  or  large  flat 
platter,   with   archaic   painting  in   brown,   foaud  at  Camirus  in 

1  Those  letters  which  have  the  same  form  in  aU  three  lists  are  oinit.ttd. 


[iNSCKIPIIONS. 
Each  figure  has  its  nama 


Rhodes  and  now  in  the  British  Museum, 
thus — 

for  MENEAA2,  EKTOP  (relrogra.ic),  and  EY'i'OPBOS.  Thia 
curious  inscription  has  the  Ionian  form  of  E,  the  Dorian  M  (san) 
for  2,  and  a  common  archaic' form  of  0  for  <J>,  a  very  strange  and 
exceptional  combination  of  characters.  The  Burgon  Panathenaic 
amphora  (see  fig.  25)  has  a  very  curious  Old -Attic  inscription, 
written  downwards — 

for  TON  A0ENE0[E]N  A0AON  E[I]MI,  "  I  am  one  of  th« 

prizes' from  Attiens,"  the  usual  inscription  on  prize  vases.  Vase- 
^7iscriptions  are  usually  painted,  if  on  a  red  ground  in  black  or 
brown,  if  on  a  black  ground  in  red  or  white.  Some  are  incised, 
scratched  after  the  vase  was  fifed  ;  but  such  occur  less  often.  '  They 
are  written  both  retrograde  and  from  left  to  right,  apparently  with- 
out any  fixed  rule.  Both  methods  frequently  occur  in  the  same 
inscription.  A  fine  early  Corinthian  crater,  found  at  Caere  and  now 
in  the  Louvre,  with  black  figures  representing  Heracles  feasting 
with  Bhrytius,  has  the  names  of  the  persons  represented  inscribed 
iu  the  characteristic  early  Dorian  manner —  • 

A^O^A   M^n:HA^aB 

for  EYPYTI02,  /T'l'ITOS,  flOAA  (Viola,  a  lady  present  at  the 
feast),  and  HEPAKAE2.  On  the  handle  of  the  crater  is  scratched 
•pO,  for  Corinth,  the  place  where  it  was  made.  ^  Another  Porian 
inscription  of  great,  interest  occurs  on  a  votive  clay  tablet  dedicated 
to  Poseidon,  about  4  by  2J  inches,  now  in  the  Louvre.  Poseidon 
is  represented  at  fuU  length,  holding  a  trident  and  a  wreath,  in 
black  with  incised  lines  ;  at  each  corner  is  a  hole  for  fixing  the 
tablet  to  the  tenjple  wall.     It  is  inscribed — 

for  nOTEIAAN  .  .  .  ON  M'ANE0HKE,  "—on  dedicated 
,me  to  Poseidon."  This  curious  tablet  was  found  at  Corinth  ;  the 
letters  are  very  archaic  in  form,  though 'the  naintiug  can  hardly 
be  earlier  than  the  6th  century  B.C. 

The  great  majority  of  vases  have  inscriptions  in  Old -Attic 
characters,  such  as  are  shown  in  the  two  following  examples.     The  SiibJMti 
subjects  of  the  inscriptions  may  be  divided  into  Jive  heads,  though  of  iu- 
other  miscellaneous  ones  also  occur.  scrip- 

(1)  On  early  vases  riidely  scratched  trade -marks,   or  potters'  tionft 
marks,'  indicating  the  number  of  vases  in  a  special  batch  and 
their  prices.     (2)  Potters'  and  artists'  names.      The  majority  have 
only  one  name,  possibly  that  of  the  master-potter,  e.g., 

for  Ei)|iS€0!  iTroirjjeir,  In  other  cases,  mostly  on  the  finest  vases, 
thu  name  of  the  painter  occui's  as  well  as  that  of  the  potter,  e.g., 

NIAKPON      E:APA95EN 

for  MdKpim'  eyjiaxl/ep.  Some  artists,  probably  distinguished  foJ 
their  skill,  painted  the  vases  of  several  potters;  other- painters' 
names  chiefly  occur  on  the  vase  of  one  special  potter.  (3)  Names 
of  people,  animals,  and  even  things  represented  on  the  vases.  A 
large  proportion  of  the  earlier  vases  have  a  name  by  the  side  of  each 
figure,  or  at  lea-tit  by  the  side  of  the  most  important  ones.  -Names 
of  horses  and  dogs  occasionally  occur,  and  iu  a  few  instances  even 
inanimate  objects  are  designated  by  a  name,  e.g.,  the  balance  on 
the  cylix  of  Arcesilans  in  the  Paris  Bibliotlieque  and  Zeus's  throne 
on  an  early  amphora  in  the  LomTe.  (4)  Speeches  uttered  by  the 
vase  figures,  c.q.,  in  a  scene  representing  a  game  at  ball  one  of  the 
players  says  XPH2AN  MOI  TAN  2*[A]IPAN,  "Throw  me 
the  ball."  Other  vase?  have  words  of  compliment  or  greeting,  such 
as  XAIPE,  "Hail!"  or  words  relating  to  their  contents,  e.g., 
HAYS  0IN02,  "The  wine  is  sweet."  (5)  Names  of  owners,  often 
with  the  adjective  KAAOS  or  KAAE  (if  a  lady),  possibly  intended 
for  gifts,  like  the  majolica  plates  inscribed  with  a  lady's  name  fol- 

•  "  See  Moil.  Ins!.,  vol.  vii. 


HELLEXIC] 


POTTERY 


lowed  by  the  epithet  "diva"  or  "bcUa."  An  amphora  with  a 
verj*  curious  iuscription  has  recently  been  found  at  Orvieto,  in 
«arly  Attic  characters— ZaAieaMIASOVaSOYA  (retrograde) 
—meaning  &v'  ojicKu)  j<al  fie  Oiyes,  "  Two  obols,  and  you  have  me." ' 
A  quite  different  species  of  inscriptions  occiirs  on  vases  of  the  latest 
class.  Artists'  and  potters'  iiames  cease  to  appear  with  the  rapidly- 
increasing  decaacnce  of  the  art.  A  black  crater  in  the  British 
Jluseum  "has  a  dedicatory  inscription  painted  in  white  round  the 
■neck,  AIOS  SIITHPOS,  "  Zeus  the  Saviour."  A  fine  black  lluted 
amphora  has  the  owner's  name,  APICTAPXO  APICTflNOS, 
in  which  the  late  C-  form  of  2  occurs.  On  a  small' black  ascus 
in  the  »iitjsh  Museum  is  scratched  rudely  UPOIIINE  MH 
KAT0HI2,  "  Drink,  do  not  sot  me  down."  And  some  plain 
black  measures  have  their  capacity-incised  on  them,  e.g.,  HEMI- 
KO'TVAION,  "Half  a  cotylion,"  on  a  cup-shaped  vessel  from 
Corcyra.  One  of  the  earliest  known  instances  of  Greek  cursive 
writing  occurs  on  a  covered  pyxis  divided  into  four  compartments 
(in  the  British  Museum).  It  appears  to  have  been  used  to  contain 
the  ashes  of  a  Roman  called  Sergius.  Under  the  foot  is  rudely 
scratched—'' 


cbi/N  e  Se :ox/i(a£|^  ^cvi,p 


"My  beloved  Sergius,"  farewell."     The  last  woi-d  is  blundered 
^nd  on  the  inside  of  the  lid  is  a  similar  incised -inscription — 


1 1  -v      y  £U'T-e(5'oc 


;"  It  is  the  second  ■  iuterment. "  The  pyxis  is  apparently  touch 
older  than  the  inscription,  a  supposition  whieh  is  confirmed  by  the 
note  as  to  its  being  a  later  burial. 

©ne  sort  of  inscription,  used  more  largely  by  the  Romans  than 
the  Greeks,  was  impressed  from  incuse  stamps,  a  method  chiefly 
\isod  for  large  amphorre  and  other  vessels  of  plain  biscuit  clay, 
«3j)eeially  those  made  in  Rhodes  and  Cni(his.  These  inscriptions, 
which  date  from  the  time  of  Alexander  the  Great  down  to  the  Ist 
century  after  Christ,  usually  give  the  name  of  an  eponymous  magis- 
trate or  chief  priest,  and  have  frequently  in  addition  one  of  the 
thirteen  months  of  the  Doric  calendar.  Some  of  the  stamps  are 
circular,  copied  from  current  Rhodian  coins,  and  have  the  legend 
round  a  front  face  of  Helios,  op  the  rose'blossom  l>65oi',  which  was 
the  badge  of  the  island.  Other  stamps  are  square  or  lozenge- 
shaped  ;  they  are  usually  impressed  on  the  neck  or  handle  of  jars. - 

Having  considered  the  teclinical  methods  employed  in 
the  manufacture  of  Greek  vases  and  the  various  classes  of 
inscriptions  which  occur  upon  them,  we  will  now  return  to 
the  styles  of  vase^-paintings  and  the  subjects  which  are 
most-  frequently  represented. 

Section  V. — Helle'nic. 

'ctiic.  Archaic  Class. — The  manner  in  which  the  styles  of 
ornament  on  early  pottery  merge  almost  insensibly  one 
into  another  makes  it  difficult  to  arrange  it  in  distinct 
classes,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  say  at  what  precise  stage 
the  term  "  Hellenic  "  can  be  given  to  the  d,rchaic  vessels. 
The  presence  of  Greek  inscriptions  makes,  however,  a 
convenient  starting-point. 

Probably  the  earliest  known  Greek  ceramic  inscription 
occurs  on  the  Ilhodian  pinaji  mentioned  above  (see  fig.  24). 
The  painting  on  this,  though  rudely  executed  in  brown 
and  red  ochres  on  a  pale  yellow  slip-covered  clay,  the  .same 
iti  method  as  the  earlier  non-Hellenic  paintings,  shows  a 
marked  artistic  advance  by  tlie  fact  that  it  represents  a 
aefinite  historical  scene  taken  from  the  Iliad.  No  incised 
lines  arc  used  except  for  the  feathers  of  the  heraldic  eagle 
on  Hector's  shield.  A  large  number  of  other  pinaces  were 
found  at  Camirus,  of  the  same  date,  but  without  inscrip- 
tions and  with  purely  decorative  paintings,  such  as  geome- 
trical lotus-patterns,  and  spirited  figures  of  bulls,  sheep, 
ind  other  animals,  or  .sphinxes  and  gorgons'  heads.  Some 
largeclay  coilins,  also  found  at  Camirus,  and  others  at 
Clazomcnpo,  belong  to  this  class  of  pottery.*     One  of  those 

•  See  Ann.  Inst,  1882,  p.  58. 

'  See  Dumont,  Inscr.  dram,  de  Orlce,  Paris,  1872  ;  tnd  Corp. 
Inicr.  Or. 

'  Journal  of  UelUnir.  Slwlics,  1383. 


from-  Camirus  is  in   the  British  Museum.     The 
decorated  with  painting  in  red  and  brown  ochre 


611 

top  ia 
colour* 


Fia.  24. — Early  inscribed  pinax  from  Rhodes,  with  cpntest  of 
Menelaus  and  Hector  over  the  body  of  Euphorbus. 

At  the  head  is  a  btill  between  two  lions,  and  below  them 
two  curious  helmeted  heads  of  warriors  drawn  in  profile, 
both  unfortunately  much  injured  by  restoration. .  Other 
parts  are  decorated  with  figures  of  beasts  on  a  ground 
studded  with  rosettes  and  other  small  designs,. in  which 
some  antiquaries  see  varieties  of  solar  symbols ;  but,  what- 
ever their  original  meaning  may  have  been,  they  appear 
on  this  pottery  to  be  used  merely  as  decoration.  Other 
vases  of  a  very  early  period  with  figure-subjects  and  inscrip- 
tions, probably  of  the  7th  and  6th  centuries  B.C.,  have  been 
found  at  Corinth,  such  as  the  "  Dodwell  pyxis,". now  at 
Munich,  on  tho  lid  of  which  is  painted  the  scene  of  th» 
Calydonian  boar  hunted  by  various  heroes  in  the  presence 
of  Agamemnon ;  each  figure  has  an  inscribed  name.  At 
Corinth  also  curious  votive  tablets  have  recently  beep 
found,  some  inscribed,  with  painted  figures  either  of  the 
god  or  of  tho  donor ;  one  of  these  is  shown  in  fig.  20.  It 
is  very  c'arly  in  date. 

The  "  Burgon  amphora,"  so  called  from  its  finder,  now 
in  the  British  Museum  (see  fig.  25),  is  a  very  interesting 
specimen  of  this  early  class ;  it  is  one  of  the  prize  amphorae 
which,  filled  with  sacred  olive  oil,  were  given  to  the  victors 
at  the  games  held  during  the  Panathenaic  festi\'al.  It  was 
found  at  Athens,  filled  with  the  ashes  of  its  owner,  and  is 
no  doubt  the  work  of  an  Athenian  potter.  On  one  side  is 
the. usual  figure  of  Athene  Promachos  in  black,  except  the 
goddess's  flesh,  which  is  white,  and  tho  inscription  and 
touches  on  tho  dress,  which  are  in  crimson.  On  the  reverse 
side  is  the  winner  of  the  vase  driving  a  biga,  apparently  in 
the  act  of  winning  the  race  which  gained  -  him  the  prize. 
On  the  neck  of  the  vase  is  tho  owl  sacred  to  Athene.  The 
drawing  of  the  figures  is  very  rude,  probably  dating  from 
tho  (Jtli  century  B.C. 

The  "Francois  crater,"  found  at  Chittsi,  now  in  the 
Etruscan  Museum  in  Florence,  is  another  iniportr  it  ox- 
ample  of  this  early  class.  It  is  signed  as  the  work  of  tli 
potter  Ergotimus  and  the  painter  C!itia.«i,  and  is  painted 
with  a  long  series  of  subjects,  all  relating  to  the  life  and 
death  of  Achilles.^  It  has  fio  less  than  115  explanatory 
inscriptions.*     Of  about  the  same  date,  Cth  century  B.C., 

«  Bull.  Inst.,  1845,  pp.  113,  120,  and  Ann.  Inst.,  1848,  p.  382. 


612 


POTTERY 


[HELLKHia 


is  the  cylix  of  Arcesilaus  found  at  Vulci,  now  in  the  Paris 
Bibliotheque.     It  is  painted  in  black  and  red  on  a  cream- 

t 
I 
! 


FlQ.  25. — The  B\iigon  Panathenaic  amp]iora,  with  early  Greek 
inscription. 

white  slip,  and  represents  Arcesilaus,  one  of  the  Cyrenian 
kings  of  this  name,  superintending  the  weighing  of  a 
number  of  bags  of  the  silphium  plant.  All  the  figures  and 
even  the  scales  have  their  names  painted  by  their  side.  It 
is  executed  with  great  neatness  and  technical  skill,  but  the 
drawing  is  stiff  and  awkward  The  scene,  which  is  repre- 
sented with  great  dramatic  vigour,  appears  to  be  on  board  a 
ship,  judging  from  the  complicated  cordage  overhead  and 
the  yard-arm  from  which  the  large  balance  is  suspended. 

It  is  at  present  impossible  to  fix  with  any  certainty  the 
dates  of  this  early  Hellenic  pottery,  as  is  also  the  case  with 
the  still  older  pottery  of  Rhodes  and  Mycense,  but  the 
increase  of  our  knowledge  on  the  subject  tends  to  give  a 
much  more  remote  period  to  its  production  than  has  been 
hitherto  assigned  to  it  by  the  majority  of  writers  on  the 
sutg'ect.  The  foregoing  class  of  pottery  forms  a  link, 
with  various  stages  of  development,  from  the  glossless 
vases  painted  in  dull  ochre  browns  and  reds  to  that  large 
and  important  class  of  Greek  pottery  which  has  figures 
painted  in  glossy  black  enamel,  on  a  red,  slightly  glazed, 
clay  ground,  or  less  frequently  on  a  cream-white  ground. 
The  vases  of  this  class,  found  in  large  quantities  over  a 
wide  area  in  Greece,  Italy,  and  Sicily,  include  paintings  of 
the  most  different  kinds,  from  the  rudest  almost  shapeless 
daubs  to  the  most  carefully-executed  pictures,  drawn  with 
great  beauty  of  composition  and  firm  accuracy  of  form, 
though  always  retaining  some  amount  of  archaic  stifiness 
and  conventionalism.  Though  the  faces  are  nearly  always 
represented  in  profile,  the  eyes  are  shown  front-wise,  a 
method  of  treatment  which  continued  in  use  even  on  the 
earlier  vases  of  the  next  period,  those  with  red  figures  on 
a  black  ground.     Fig.  26  shows  the  progressive  treatment 


<^  <m  ^•> 


PiQ.  26. — Series  ot  humau  eyes  from  painted  vases,  showing  the  develop- 
ment of  drawing,  and  power  of  representing  the  eye  in  profile. 

of  the  human  eye  by  vase-painters,  from  the  earliest  intro- 
duction of  figures  down  to  the  end  of  the  4tl>  century  B.C. 


Many  of 'the  floral  ornaments  of  this  period  still  retain 
clear  signs  of  their  Oriental  origin.  The  sacred  tree  of 
Assyria,  in  an  elaborate  and  highly  conventionalized  form, 
very  frequently  occurs,  or,  worked  into  a  running  pattern, 
it  forms  a  continuous  band  of  decoration,  out  of  which  the 
Greek  so-cailed  "  honeysuckle  pattern "  seems  to  havo 
been  developed.  These  vases  have  far  greater  variety  and 
richness  in  their  decorative  patterns  than  those  with  the 
black  ground,  the  natural  result  of  the  great  ease  and 
freedom  of  hand  with  vrhich  delicate  floral  designs  could 
be  touched  in  with  the  brush  in  black,  while  in  the  later 
manner  the  red  patterns  had  to  be  laboriously  left  out  by 
working  the  black  ground  all  rotmd  them.  Hence  the 
stiffness  and  poverty  of  invention  which  are  so  remarkable 
in  the  decorative  patterns  on  the  vases  of  the  "best 
period."  Many  of  the  black  figures  of  men  and  animals 
are  executed  with  extraordinary  minuteness,  owing  largely 
to  the  engraved  gem-like  treatment  with  which  the  incised 
lines  are  applied,  especially  in  the  representation  of  the 
hair  of  men  or  animals,  and  also  in  the  rich  textile  patterns 
with  which  the  draperies  are  often  covered.  Some  of  the 
vases,  judging  from  their  general  form  and  thin  band-like 
handles,  were  evidently  copied  from  metal  vessels,  as,  for  ex- 
ample, a  number  of  small  amphorse  found  in  various  places, 
executed  in  the  workshop  of  Nicosthenes,  a  rather  inartistic 
potter,  who  appears  to  have  turned  out  a  large  number  Of 
vases  with  little  or  no  variety  in  shape  or  ornament. 

The  later  vases,  with  black  figures,  were  produced 
simultaneously  with  the  earlier  ones  decorated  with  red 
figures ;  and  during  this  transitional  period  (about  the 
middle  of  the  5th  century  B.C.)  some  vase-painters 
worked  in  both  styles,  both  kinds  of  painting  sometimes 
occurring  even  on  the  same  vase.  The  British  Museimi 
possesses  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  these,  ,a  largo 
amphora  with  nobly-designed  paintings.  On  one  side  are 
two  seated  figures  of  Greek  warriors,  probably  Ajax  and 
Achilles,  playing  at  a  game  like  draughts.  They  are  painted 
in  black  with  chocolate-red  touches,  and  minute  details, 
such  as  the  drapery  over  their  armour  and  their  wavy 
hair,  executed  in  incised  lines  of  extreme  fineness  and 
gem-like  treatment.  The  other  side  of  the  vase  has  red 
figures  on  a  black  ground,  a  most  powerfully  drawn  group 
of  Heracles  strangling  the  Nemsean  lion  in  the  presence 
of  lolaus,  and  an  archaic  statue -like  figure  of  Athene. 
As  in  the  painting  with  black  figures,  some  touches  of 
red  are  used.  The  treatment  of  Heracles's  hair  isopeculiax 
and  again  recalls  gem-engraver's  work,  in  which  hair  is 
represented  by  a  series  of  drilled  holes ;  in  this  painting 
the  stiff  curls  are  given  by  a  number  of  round  dots  of 
the  black  enamel,  applied  in  considerable  body  so  as  to 
stand  out  in  relief.  This  treatment  frequently  occurs  on 
the  fine  vases  of  this  and  later  periods,  and  the  same 
method  is  occasionally  used  in-  a  very  effective  way  tc 
represent  bunches  of  grapes  and  the  like. 

Vases  vdth  Black  Ground  and  Red  Figures. — After  about 
the  middle  of  the  5th  century  B.C.  this  method  superseded 
that  with  the  black  figures,  and  to  this  class  belong  the 
finest  vases  of  aU.  The  drawing  of  the  earlier  specimens 
is  strongly  sculpturesque  in  style,  sometimes  recalling  the 
noble  though  slightly  archaic  pediment  figures  from  ./Egina, 
while  the  vase-paintings  of  a  few  years  later  seem  to  belong 
to  the  Phidian  school ;  the  forms  are  noble  and  massive, 
treated  with  great  breadth  and  simplicity,  and  kept  strictly 
to  one  plane;  faces  are  nearly  always  drawn  in  profile, 
and  aU  violent  foreshortening  of  limbs  is  avoided.  Some 
vase-painters  of  this  period  {e.  450-400)  retain  a  slight 
touch  of  Oriental  feeling  in  their  drawing,  as,  for  in- 
stance, the  beautiful  amphora  by  Euxitheus  in  the  British 
Museum,  which  has  single  figures  of  Achilles  and  Briseis, 
one  on  each  side  (see  fig.  27). 


BELLENIC] 


POTTERY 


613 


It  should  be  remarked  that  the  style  of  vase-paintings 
is  generally  rather  archaic  as  compared  with  other  branches 


Fia'27. — Amphora  by  Euxitheus  (c.  450  B.C.),  figure  of  Briseis  ; 
the  other  Bide  has  Achilles. 

ot  contemporary  art,  as  was  the  case  with  their  inscrip-' 
tions,  and  a  certain  conventionalism  of  treatment,  such  as 
would  not  be  found  in  sculpture,  lingers  till  quite  the  end 
of  the_5th  century  B.C.    Fig.  28  shows  a_ painting  from 


PlOi  28. — Peleus  leading  home  his  bride  Thetis  ;  painting  inside  a 
cylijt  found  in  a  tomb  at  Vulci  (c.  440-420  B.C.). 

the  inside  of  a  cylix,  remarkable  for  the  severe  beauty 
and  simple  grace  of  its  drawing  and  composition.  The 
scene  represents  the  moment  when  Peleus  has  won  Thetis 
for  his  bride,-  and  is  leading  her  away  in  triumph,  gently 
overcoming  her  modest  reluctance  ;  her  shrinking  and  yet 
yielding  attitude  is  drawn  in  the  most  refined  and  masterly 
manner  possible.' 

In  the  succeeding  century  both  drawing  and  composition 

'  Tlie  same  design,  tliouph  with  inferior  execution,  is  repeated  on 
»  cylix  found  at  Coraoto  ;  see  Mon,  Insl.,  xi.,  table  xx. 


began  to  gain  in  softness  and  grace,  while  losing  something 
of  their  old  vigour.  Vase-paintings  become  more  pictorial, 
and  the  compositions  more  elaborate  and  crowded ;  the 
British  Museum  has  an  amphora  from  Camirus  (Rhodes), 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  this  later  class,  elaborately 
decorated  on  one  side  with  various  coloui-ed  pigments  and 
gold  applied  over  the  finished  black  and  red  figures. 
As  in  the  earlier  cylix  of  fig.  28  .the  scene  represents  the 
final  triumph  of  Peleus  in  his  pursuit  of  Thetis ;  in  order 
to-fiU  up  the  space  some  of  the' figures  are  placed,  as 
it  were,  in  the  air,  a  inethod  of  composition  peculiar  to 
the  later  vase-paintings.  Though  not  highly  finished  in 
details,  such  as  the  hands  and  feet,  this  picture  is  a  perfect 
marvel  of  skilful  touches  rapidly  applied,  and  of  extreme 
beauty  of  form  and  general  composition  (see  Plate  V.). 
The  funeral  lecythi  from  tombs  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Athens  are  a  remarkable  class  of  vases,  c.  350-300  B.C. 
(see  fig.  29).  On  these,  over  a  white  ground,  are  painted 
scenes  representing  mourners  ^' 
visiting  sepulchral  stelae  ■with  I 
offerings  in  their  hands.  They  i 
are  drawn  carelessly,  but  with  j 
great  skill,  in  red  outline  and  ; 
then  coarsely  filled  in  with  • 
colours.  Some  of  the  seated  1 
females  are  designed  with  I 
wonderful  grace  and  pathos,  i 
the  whole  pose  full  of  a  ten-  : 
der  longing  for  the  departed  | 
one.  Besides  the  funeral  j 
lecythi  a  few  pieces  of  pot-  s' 
tery  have  been  found,  dating  -^ 
from  about 'the  same  period,  I 
which  have  paintings  exe-  i 
cuted,  on  a  ground  of  white  j 
slip.  Some  of  them  are  of  | 
most  extraordinary  beauty;  j 
perhaps  the  finest  of  all  is  ■ 
a  cylix  from  a  Rhodian  tomb,  i 
now  in  the  British  JIuseum,  i 
on  the  inside  of  which  is  a  j 
drawing,  chiefly  in  outline,  v 
representing  Aphrodite  seated  Fio;"  29.  — Sepulchral  jecj-thiu 
on  the  back  of  a  flying  swan,  from  a  tomb  near  Athena) 
For  delicacy  of  touch  and  re-  (British  Museum.) 
fined  beauty  of  drawing  this  painting  is  quite  unrivalled. 
The  exquisite  loveliness  of  Aphrodite's  head  and  the  pUr^ 
grace  of  her  profile,  touched  in  with  simple  brush-formed 
lines,  are  quite  indescribable,  and  show  a  combination  ol 
mechanical  skill  united  to  imaginative  power  and  realiza- 
tion of  the  most  perfect  and  ideal  beauty  such  as'  no  people 
but  the  Greeks  can  ever  have  so  completely  possessed  (se? 
Plate  v.).  '  ""    -       ^-- 

Vases  of  the  Decadence.— The  vases  of  this  class  are  often 
of  enormous  size,  covered  with  very  numerous  figures,  oftep 
possessing  much  graceful  beauty  in  form,  but  very  inferior 
in  execution  and  purity  of  drawing  to  the  earlier  paintings. 
The  figures,  especially  in  the  later  specimen.s,  are  thoroughly 
pictorial  in  treatment ;  many  of  them  arc  painted  in  cream- 
white,  with  shaded  modelling  in  yellows  and  browns. 
Effects  of  perspective  are  introduced  in  some  of  the  archi- 
tectural features,  particularly  in  the  bands  of  rich  floral 
scroll-work.  In  the  2d  century,  till  about  100  n.c,  when 
painted  vases  ceased  to  be  made,  the  paintings  became 
extremely  coarse  and  devoid  of  any  merit  whatever,  though 
even  at  this  time  moulded  vases,  either  decorated  with 
reliefs  all  over  or  with  small  inserted  emblcniata,  con- 
tinued to  be  made  of  great  artistic  beauty.  The  extreme 
degradation  to  which  vase-painting  of  this  period  fell 
.lecras  to  be  due  not  so  much  to  the  general  decav  of  thf> 


614 


F  O  T  T  E  R  Y 


[HELLENIC. 


arts  among  the  Greeks  as  to  the  fact  that  the  rases  were 
no  longer 'made  by  able  artists,  but  were  turned  out  in 
large  quantities  from  the  hands  of  an  uneducated  class  of 
artisans.  This  was  probably  partly  owing  to  increasing 
wealth  and  love  of  display,  which  created  a  demand  for 
gold  and  silver  plate  rather  than  for  the  cheaper  but  more 
artistic  beauty  of  painted  clay. 

The  datea  of  Greek  vases  are  difficult  to  fix,  partly  from  a 
natural  tendency  to  archaism,  which  varies  with  the  productions 
of  different  places,  and  partly  because  in  some  cases  there  was  an 
artificial  reproduction  of  old  styles  and  methods.  The  following 
chronological  classification,  which  is  commonly  accepted,  is  only 
very  roughly  correct,  and  is  not  applicable  in  all  instances:  (1) 
black  figures  on  red  ground,  about  Sth  century  to  440  B.C.  ;  (2)  red 
figures  on  black  ground,  of  the  best  period,  c.  440-300  B.C.  ;  (3) 
period  of  decadence,  c.  300-100  B.C.  fine  moulded  black  vases, 
and  vases  with  polyclu-omatic'  paintings  of  good  style,  were  made 
towards  the  end  of  the  4th  and  early  part  of  the  3d  century  B.C. 

Shapes  of  Fases  and  their  Use. — From  the  5th  century  and  after- 
wards but  little  scope  was  left  to  the  fancy  of  the  individual  potter 
in  the  forms  of  his  vases.  One  special  pattern  was  pretty  closely 
adhered  to  for  each  sort,  though,  of  course,  modifications  in  shape 
took  place  as  time  went  on.     Fig.  30  gives  the  forms  of  the  chief 


'^^^ 


Bydria  Lecythus. 


Cylix. 


Lebes.         Amphora. 


^^ 


Cantharus.  Crater.  AryhaUxts.  (Enochoe. 

Fig.  80. — Principal  shapes  of  Greek  vases  and  their  names. 

sorts  of  vases ;  a  large  number  of  others  exist,  each  with  its 
special  name.  Amphoroe  and  hydrioe  are  the  largest  and  most  im- 
portant, and  have  the  grandest  picture-subjects  painted  on  them. 
The  cylices  frequently  have  paintings  of  wonderful  delicacy  and 
beauty  ;  the  later  Athenia'n  lecythi  are  remarkable  for  their  poly- 
chromatic decoration.  The  uses  of  the  painted  vases  is  a  very 
difficult  question  ;  few  show  any  signs  of  wear,  though  they  a>3 
made  of  soft  clay  easily  scratched,  and  most  of  those  which  are 
represented  in  use  on  vase-pictures  are  plain  black  without  any 
paintings.  A  beautiful  little  pyxis,  or  perfume-box,  in  the  British 
Museum,  shows  in  its  pictured  scene  of  a  lady's  toilet  several 
painted  vases,  which  are  set  about  tha  room  as  ornaments,  and 
nave  flowers  or  olive-branches  in  them  (see  fig.  31).    Many  vases 


Flo'  31. — Painting  from  a  small  toilet-box  or  pyxis,  showing  painted 
vases  used  to  dedorate  a  lady's  room.  On  the  left  is  a  gilt  pyxis 
with  a  tall  lid,  and  an  cenochoe  ou  a  low  table ;  on  the  right  two 
tall  vases  (lebes)  on  a  plinth.  All  except  the  pyxis  are  decorated 
with  painted  figures,  and  contain  flowers. 

»re  blank  on  one  side,  or  have  on  the  reverse  side  a  painting  of 
inferior  execution,  apparently  because  they  remained  set  against  a 
wall  or  in  a  niche.      Nearly  all  those  now  existing  came  from 


.tombs,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  ornamental  vases  were  selected 
for  sepulchral  purposes,  while  a  plainer  and  less  decorated  class 
was  emploj'ed  for  acttial  domestic  use. 

Panalhenaic  Amphorae. — This  is  a  very  important  class  of  vases,' 
extending  over  a  long  period,  from  the  6th  to  the  end  of  the  4th 
century  B.C.  Fig.  25  above  gives  the  earliest  known  specimen. 
They  all  have  on  one  side  a  figure  of  Athene  Promachos,  and  on 
the  other  a  scene  from  the  public  athletic  games.  They  are 
inscribed  TON  AOENEeEN  AeAON  EIMI,  and  some  of  the 
later  ones  have  the  name  of  tlie  eponymous  arclion  as  well,  e.g., 
IIY0OAHAO2  APXfiN  on  an  amphora  from  Caere,  now  in  the 
Britisji  Sluseum.  Pythodelus  was  archon  in  336  B.C.,  and  so  the 
date  of  the  vases  thus  inscribed  can  be  accurately  determined.  A 
number  found  at  Benghazi  and  Teuchira  in  the  Cyrenaica  are  now 
in  tlie  British  Museum  and  the  Louvre.  Some  of  the  archons'  names 
on  them  are  these — Mcocrates  (333  B.C.),  Kicetes  (332  B.C.),  Euthy- 
critus  (328  B.C.),  Cephisodorus  (323  B.C.),  Archippus  (321  B.C.),  and 
Theophrastus  (313  B.C.).  The  figure  of  Athene  on  all  of  them  is 
rudely  painted  in  pseudo-archaic  style — the  figure  in  black  and 
white,  with  incised  lines,  on  a  red  ground  ;  the  other  side  is  painted 
in  the  same  way,  but  is  not  archaic  in  drawing.  Long  vowels  occur 
in  the  archons'  names,  but  sometim.es  the  same  amphora  has  the 
obverse  inscription  written  in  the  old  way.  They  are  all  poor  as 
works  of  aH.  One  in  the  British  Museum  is  of  special  interest 
from  the  design  painted  in  white  on  Athene's  shield.  This  is  the 
celebrated  sculptured  group  of  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton  by 
Critias  and  Nesiotes,  of  which  an  ancient  copy  exists  in  the  Nanles 
Museum,  though  the  bronze  original  is  loSt. 

Subjects  of  Vase-paintings. — 'These  are  of  great  interest,  and  are  Snbierte 
almost  endless  in  number  ;^only  the  scantiest  outline  can  be  given  of  vase- 
here,  and,  with  so  wide  a  range,  any  classification,  is  necessarily  paint- 
imperfect  The  following  list  includes  the  majority  of  subjects,  ings. 
(I)  Stories  of  the  gods,  scenes  such  as  the  Gigantomachia  or  the 
birth  of  Athene.'  (2)  Scenes  from  the  heroic  age,  as  the  achievements 
of  Theseus  and  Heracles,  the  wars  of  Thebes,  the  battles  with  the 
Amazons,  the  voyage  of  the  Argonauts,  the  Trojan  War,  the  return 
of  the  Greeks  from  Troy,  and  the  like.  (3)  Dionysiac  subjects,  such 
as  orgies  of  Dionysus  and  dances  of  satyrs.  (4)  Scenes  from  real 
life,  such  as  the  vintage,  olive-gathering,  marriages;  feasts,  dancing, 
hunting,  sacrifices,  and  theatrical  subjects.  (5)  Funeral  subjects-, 
as  mourners  bewailing  the  dead  or  bringing  offerings  to  a  tomb. 
(6)  Scenes  from  the  gymnasium  and  various  athletic  exercises.  (7) 
Allegorical  subjects,  with  figures  of  happiness,. wealth,  youth,  and 
the  like.  (8)  Historical  subjects,  which,  however,  are  rare  :  a  very 
fine  vase  in  the  Louvre,  of  the  best  period,  has  Crcesus  on  his 
funeral  pyre  ;  the  cyli.v  of-Arcesilaus  has  been  mentioned  above ; 
Anacreon  playing  on  his  lyre,  and  followed  by  his  pet  dog,  occurs 
on  several  fine  vases  ;  the  meeting  of  Sappho  and  Alcaeus  is  also 
represented;  other  portrait -figures  appear,  chiefly  of  poets  and 
philosophers,  many  with  inscribed  names  which  are  now  unknown. 
(9)  Humorous  subjects  :  these  are  common  on  the  vases  of  the  latest 
period  and  are  usually  very  coarsely  painted  ;  caricatures  of  mytho- 
logical subjects  frequently  occnr  in  which  the  gods  are  represented 
as  dwarfs  or  hunchbacks. - 

Places  where  Greek  Vases  have  been  found. — Till  within  the  last  LocaB* 
twenty  years  most  weie  discovered  in  the  tombs  of  Magna  Graecia,  ties. 
Sicily,  and  Etruria.  Capua,  Nola,  and  Tulci  supplied  a  very  large 
quantity  of  vases  of  the  finest  sort  with  the  most  rich  and  brilliant 
enamel.  Special  characteristics  of  style  and  technique  can  be 
traced  in  the  production  of  special  localities,  but  these  differences 
are  not  very  important.  Of  late  years  Attica,  the  isthm'us  of 
Corinth,  and  other  places  on  Hellenic  soil  have  yielded  a  great 
many  fine  vases  ;  the  islands  of  the  iEgean  Sea  and  the  w'estern 
shores  of  Asia  Minor  are  rich  in  sepulchral  stores  of  these  and 
all  branches  of  Greek  art.  Athens  possesses  a  fine  and  rapidly- 
increasing  collection  chiefly  from  Attica.  The  British  Museum 
collection  is  on  the  whole  the  finest  for  Greek  vases  of  all  periods, 
though  it  is  very  poor  in  Etruscan  pottery.  The  other  chief 
collections  of  Europe  are  in  the  Louvre,  at  Naples,  in  the  Vatican, 
at  Florence,  and  Turin  ;  Munich,  Vienna,  Berlin,  and  St  Peters- 
burg also  have  very  fine  collections ;  and  there  is  a  small  one  in 
the  Bibliotheque,  Paris. 

Section  VI. — Prehistorio  and  Eteuscak  in  .Italy. 

Very  many  of  the  numerous  vases  discovered  in  the 
tombs  of  Etrtteia  (q.v.)  are  imports  either  from  Greece 
and  its  islands  or  from  the  neighbouring  country  of  Magna 
Graecia."  Nevertheless  there  is  a  large  class  of  pottery  which 
is  distinctly  native,  extending  over  a  very  long  period, 
from  quite  prehistoric  ages  down  to  the  time  when  th© 
Eoman  rule  extended  throughout  the  peninsula.      This 

'  See  Ann.  Inst.,  1830,  p.  209,  and  187?,  p.  294  ;  also  3fon.  Inst., 
I.,  tables  xlvii.,  xlviif, 
-  See  Heydemann,  Bumorisliache  Tasenhilder,  Berlin,  1878. 


ETRUSC/->f.l 


POTTERY 


bio 


pottery  maybe  divided  into  six  classes, — (1)  prehistoric;  (2) 
black  glossy  Etruscan ;  (3)  pottery  rudely  painted  with 
figures  of  purely  Etruscan  design ;  (4)  plain  biscuit  clay, 
unpainted,  but  decorated  with  stamped  reliefs ;  (5)  later 
vases,  badly-executed  imitations  of  painted  Greek  vases, 
but  having  Etruscan  subjects,  or  Greek  subjects  treated  in 
a  distinctly  Etruscan  manner ;  (6)  large  clay  slabs,  with 
painted  figures,  used  for  the  wall-decoration  of  tombs. 

1.  Frehistm-ic. — This  is  the  work  of  the  Siculi,  Oscans, 
Umbrians,  and  other  occupiers  of  Italy  before  the  arrival 
of  the  Etruscans.  It  is  mostly  small,  made  without  the 
wheel,  of  coarse  brown  or  blackish  clay,  slightly  orna- 
DJented  with  ridges'  of  clay  modelled  in  relief.  One 
wirious  variety  is  in  the  form  of  a  primitive  Oscan  hut, 
with  a  movable  door,  fixed  with  pegs.^  The  Musco  del 
Oollegio. Romano. has  a  fine  collection  of  the  prehistoric 


Fio.  32. — Piehistorio  pottery  from  luly. 
pottery  of   Italy,   Sardinia,   and   other  places.     Fig.   32 
shows  some  of  the  commonest  forms. 

2.  Etruscan  Black  H'are. -—It  is  remarkable  that  the 
Etruscan  race,  though  so  extraordinarily  skiKul  in  most 
of  the  handicrafts,  did  not  excel  at  any  period  in  their 
pottery.  They  were  especially  famed  for  their  skill  in 
metal -work,  and  hence  perhaps  this  largest  and  most 
numerous  class  of  their  fictile  ware  is  mostly  shaped  after 
metal  forms  and  decorated  with  designs  not  speciaUy 
suited  to  clay.  The  clay  of  which  this  black  ware  is  com- 
posed consists  (taking  the  average  of  many  analyses)  of 
the  following  ingredients, — silica  63,  alumina  15,  peroxide 
of  iron  8,  lime  3i,  magnesia  2,  and  carbon  2.  It  is  hard 
and  metallic  in  appearance,  generally  of  a  glossy  black,  but 
sometimes  grey.  Its  black 
is  partly  due  to  the  super- 
ficial presence  of  free  car- 
bon, showing  that  the  vases 
were  fired  in  a  close  kiln, 
under  the  direct  contact  of 
the  carbonaceous  '  smoke 
from  the  fuel,  a  process 
called  in  modern  times  "the 
smother  kiln."  If  heated 
to  a  bright  red  in  an  open 
fire  the  ware  loses  its  black 
colour  and  becomes  greyish 
white  or  brown.  Its  forms 
and  the  figures  stamped  in 
blunt  relief  all  suggest  that 
they  were  copied  from  metal 
originals,  a  supposition . 
strongly  borne  out  by  the 
fact  that  many  of  them  are 
completely  covered  •-  with 
gold  or  silver  leaf  (see  fig.' 
33).  The  reliefs  upon  them 
consist  of  lions  and  other  ^, 
animals,8phinxes,chim<er8e,   ^w-  33.— Etruscon  (jenochoe.of black 

human  figures,  or  ceometri-      ™*'^'  ^""^  "f*"^ '"  ""•*■-    t'^"'" 
.„]    „   .,  ,1  ,  isn  Musoum.) 

cal   patterns,    all   coarsely 

executed,  and  ^ery  blunt  in  their  forms,  partly  from  want 


of  sharpness  in  the  moulds  thgy  are  stamped  from,  and 
partly  through  the  shrinkage  of  the  clay  in  the  kiln.  Some 
of  the  shapes  are  graceful,  especially  those  undecorated  by 
reliefs  (see  fig.  34).     Others  are  very  fanciful-  worked  into 

h 


'  See   VircUow,    Die   ilalienischen  und    t/eutscben  Baua-  Umen, 
Berlin,  1884. 
.    '  Sco   Lenormant,    "Vasns  EtniRgin'a  un  terra   iiniro."  in    Onaile 

Archiologir/uc.  1879 


Fig.  34. — Plain  Etruscan  tlack  pottery. 

forms  most  imsuiteci  for  clay,  such  as  "  situlse  "  or  buckets, 
with  movable  ring  handles  ;  incense  cups  supported  on  thin 
bands  of  clay  stamped  with  reliefs;  and  jugs' shaped  Uke 
hollow  rings.  A  few  have  their  shapes  copied  from  Greek 
vases,  e.ff.,  a  number  of  small  amphoras  of  exactly  the  same 
form  as  those  made  by  the  Greek  potter  Nicosthenes. 
A  common  form  of  Etruscan  vase  has  a  lid  shaped  like 
a  human  head,  copied  apparently  from  Egyptian  Canopic 
vases.  Some  have  human  arms  rudely  modelled  in  clay  and 
fastened  on  by  pegs.  Besides  the  black  vases  of  this  form, 
there  exist  many  made  of  red  clay  covered  with  yellow  shp. 
3.  Etruscan  Painted  Vases. — A  number  of  very  strange 
large  covered  jars  have  been  found  at  Caere  (see  fig.  35X 
more  than  3  feet  high,  and  rudely 
painted  in  dull  colours  (black, 
red,  and  white)  -with  large  figiu-es 
of  animals, — lions,  wolves,  horses, 
various  birds,  and  some  alm-^-'  '  " 
shapeless  figiu-es  of  men.  There 
considerable  spirit  in  the  drawing  ■ 
of  the  animals,  as  is  often  the  case 
even  when  there  was  no  power  to 
delineate  human  beings.  The  finest 
of  these  vases  are  in  the  Louvre  and 
at  Orvieto.  Somo  have  only  geo- 
metrical patterns, — bands  of  simple  Fi'^ 
leaf -ornament,  platbands,  or  chequers. 
Others  are  shaped  like  largo  round  boxes  on  a  foot,  with 
lids,  nearly  2  feet  high.  One  of  those  in  the  Louvre,  of 
red  clay  blackened  by  smoke,  has  a  very  curious  drawing 
in  white  pigment,  coarsely  executed.  It  represents  a  mer- 
chant-ship under  full  sail  being  attacked  by  a  war-ship 
impelled  only  by  oars ;  the  latter  is  crowded  with  soldiers 
bearing  round  shields,  each  with  an  heraldic  device.  The 
other- vessel  has  only  oho  combatant,  a  bowman,  who, 
mounted  on  the  yard-arm,  discharges  an  arrow  at  tlio 
enemy.  This  ajjpears  to  be  a  pirate  scene,  and,  though 
very  rudely  painted,  it  is  not  wthout  strong  dramatic  force. 
4. '  Vases  in  Biscidt  Clay  u>itk  Bandu  of  Stamped  Beliefs. 
— These  are  mostly  large  pithi  (see  fig.  36)  about  3  feet 
high,  or  thick  pinaces  (platters)  1  to  2  feet  across,  fiomo 
are  of  dull  red  clay,  covered  witli  bright  red  slip  ;  others 
are  yellow.  The  clay  is  coarse,  mixed  with  crusheil  granite, 
sand,  or  pounded  pottery,  to  which  the  coating  of  fine  clay: 
slip  give's  a  smooth  surface.  Tlieir  chief  peculiarity  con- 
sists in  the  bands  of  figures  in  relief  with  which  they  are 
decorated,  and  which  were  impressed  on  tlie  soft  clay  by 
rolling  along  it  wheels  abtmt.  1  inch  iWu-k  and  7  or  8  inches 
in  circumference.      Innnm-  figures  were  cut  on  the_edge3 

*  A  similar  vniit  is  illustrated  in  Mon,  Iiixl.,  ix..  table  iv. 


— lianj   Luuscaa 
painted  jar.     (Louvre.) 


616 


POTTERY 


[ETKU3CAN. 


of  the  wHeels,  which,  when  rolled  over  the  clay,  printed 
(like  seals)  rows  of  figures,  and  they  were  of  course 
repeated  every  7  or  8  inches,  ac- 
cording to  the  size  of  the  wheels. 
These  stamped  reliefs,  mostly  about 
an  inch  high,  represent  processions 
of  animals, — lions,  leopards,  boars, 
ibexes,  deer,  horses,  or  griffins. 
Some  have  human  figures,  horse- 
men fighting  vrith  chimserae.  One 
in  the  Louvre  has  a  curious  hunt- 
ing-scene, a  man,  with  two  dogs, 
throwing  short  knobbed  sticks  to 
drive  hares  into  a  net.  The  bands 
are  arranged,  singly  or  double, 
round  the  rims  of  the  pinaces  and 

the  shoulders  of  the  pithi;  the  latter  p,Q  se.—Etruscan  pithus 
are  also  ornamented  with  rude  orjar,  with  wheel-stamped 
fluting  or  "reeding"  below  the  band,  and  fluted  body, 
bands,  or  have  occasionally  reliefs,  (Louvre.) 
2  to  3  inches  square,  stamped  at  intervals  all  round  them 
instead  of  the  continuous  lines  of  figures. 

5.  Later  Vases  with  Imitations  of  Greelc  Paintings. — 
These  are  mostly  copies  of  Greek  forms,  but  very  inferior, 
both  in  drawing  and  technical  execution,  to  the  real  Greek 
vases,  the  black  enamel  especially  being  thin,  and  hard 
in  texturei  In  appearance  they  resemble  Greek  vases  of 
various  periods,  but  are  distinguishable  by  having  paintings 
that  are  not  Hellenic  in  subject  or  treatment,  or  by  their 
Etruscan  inscriptions.  An  amphora,  now  in  the  British 
Museum  (see  fig.  37),  of  early  style,  with  black  figures 


Fio.  37. — Etruscan  amphora,  Greek  style,  with  contest  between 
Hercules  and  Juno,  and  bands  of  birds  and  animals  ;  black,  with 
incised  lines. 

and  incised' lines,  has  a  painting  of  a  scene  which  belongs 
specially  to  Latin  mythology,  viz.,  the  contest  at  Pylus 
between  Hercules  and  Juno  Sospita  ,-•  Minerva  stands 
behind  Hercules  and  Poseidon  behind  Juno.  On  each 
side  of  Juno  is  a  caldron  full  of  snakes,  probably  an 
allusion  to  the  sacred  serpent  which  was  kept  in  the 
grove  of  Juno  at  Lanuvium.  Another  amphora  in  the 
Paris  Bibliothfeque  has  a  painting  of  the  scene  where 
Admetus  takes  leave  of  Alcestis  before  her  descent  to 
Hades  (see  fig.  3S).     Two  hideous  demons  are  depicted, 


waiting  to  seize  their  prey :  one,  Chanin,  with  winged 
feet,  brandishes  a  massive  hammer ;  the  other,  ^fantus, 


Fig.  58. — Etruscan  painting,  an  amphora  of  later  Greek  style ;  parting 
scene  of  Alcestis  and  Admetus,  with  Etruscan  inscriptions. 

with  great  white  wings,  holds  a  serpent  in  each  hand  ; 
both  have  a  fiendish  aspect,  with  grinning  teeth,  like  the 
devUs  in  mediaeval  pictures  of  hell,  and  thoroughly  un- 
Greek  in  spirit.  This  vase  is  in  the  style  of  the  decadence 
of  vase-painting,  probably  about  200  B.C. 

6.  Painted  Wall-slabs  were  used  to  decorate  the  walls  Pauitoi 
of  tombs ;  they  are  from  4  to  5  feet  high,  about  2  feet  wall- 
wide,  and  about  1  inch  thick.  The  upper  part'  some- 
times has  a  moulded  cornice  and  a  painted  frieze  with 
geometrical  ornament.  The  lower  part  is  covered  with 
chequered  squares  or  some  other  simple  pattern.  On  the 
intermediate  space  are  painted  pictures  with  figures,  about 
2  feet  high,  representing  sacrificial  scenes,  religious  pro- 
cessions, and  other  subjects.  The  drawing  shows  Greek 
influence,  but  the  costumes  are  Etruscan.  The  pigments 
are  mostly  simple  earth-colours,  red,  brown,  and  yellow 
ochres,  with  black,  white,  and  bluish  grey ;  but  bright 
greens  and  blues  also  occur,  the  latter  made  from  oxides 
of  copper,  like  the  smalto  on  the  Attic  lecythi.  The 
colours  are  all  applied  quite  flatly ;  the  female  flesh  is 
white,  the  male  red  ;  and  the  whole  painting  is  emphasized 
by  strong  black  outlines.  The  costvunes  are  interesting ; 
many  of  the  garments  fit  tightly  to  the  body,  and  the  men 
mostly  wear  a  peculiar  sort  of  high  bopt  turned  up  at  the 
tip.  It  is  doubtful  whether  they  are  executed  in  true 
ceramic  colours  fired  in  the  kiln.  They  may  possibly  be 
only  tempera  paintings,  like  those  on  the  tuff-walls  of 
some  of  the  excavated  tombs.  The  great  size  of  the  well- 
baked  clay  slabs  on  which  they  are  painted  shows  that 
the  Etruscans  must  have  constructed  pottery-kilns  of 
considerable  dimensions.' 

Inscriptions  on  Etruscan  Vases. — Painted  words  or  phrases  are  Inscrfp 
not  vmcommon  on  the  vases  which  are  imitated  from  the  Greek  ;  tiona. 
they  are  usuaUy  Ulustrative  of  the  subject,  as,  for  example,  the 
vase  mentioned  above  with  the  parting  scene  of  Alcestis  and  Ad- 
metus, which  has,  in  addition  to  the  names  of  the  two  principal 
figures,  a  sentence  in  the  Etruscan  language,  spoken  by  Charun — 
"Ecaerscenac  aqrura  wlerorce "  (I  bear  thee  to  Acheron).  The 
n'ames  of  Admetus  and  Alcestis  are  written  retrograde,-  thus — 

Several  Etruscan  vases  of  black  ware  have  been  found  witli  the 
complete  Etruscan  alphabet  rudely  scratched  upon  them.  They 
give  early  forms  of  the  twenty-two  Phoenician  letters,  and  are 
arranged  in  the  Semitic  order.*  A  cup  in  the  museum  at  Grosseto 
has  two  Greek  letters  added  after  the  twenty-two  which  composed 
the  Etruscan  alphabet.  Some  late  vases,  not  earlier  than  about 
200  B.C.,  are  interesting  from  having  inscriptions  painted  in 
white,  which  give  early  forms  of  the  Latin  language.  They  are 
mostlv  dedicatory,  with  namos  of  Latin  deities,  e.g.,  VOLCANI 
POCVLOM,  "the  cup  of  Vulcan";  BELOLAI  POCVLOM, 
"the  cup  of  Belloua,"  and  others. 
Dates  of  Etruscan  Pottery. — These  can  only  be  roughly  estimated. 

1  See  Dennis,  Cities  of  Etruria,  ed.  1878. 
»  See  Birch,  Ancient  Pottery,  1873,  p.  460. 
»  See  Taylor,  Alphabet,  1883,  voL  ii.  p.  73. 


8AMIAN.1 


POTTERY 


617 


The  black  moulded  ware  (class  2)  seems  to  range  fiora  about  the  8th 
to  the  3d  century  B.C.  The  large  jars  with  stamped  bands  (class  4) 
appear  to  be  all  very  early  in  date,  about  the  8th  century  D.c.  They 
are  not  found  in  those  tombs  which  contain  painted  vases.  The 
large  vessels  with  rude  native  paintings  (class  3)  are  probably  of  the 
6th  and  7th  centuries.  The  vases  with  imitations  of  Greek  paintings 
extend  over  a  long  period,  from  about  the  6th  to  the  2d  century  B.C. 

The  greatest  quantities  of  Etruscan  pottery  have  been  discovered 
in  the  tombs  of  Tarquinii,  Csre,  Veil,  Ccrvetri,  Chiusi,  and  near  Or- 
bitello,  Volterra,  Orvieto,  and  other  places  in  central  Italy,  but  above 
all  at  VuIcL  The  best  collections  are  in  the  Louvre  and  tlie  Vati- 
can, at  Florence,  Naples,  Turin,  Bologna,  Brescia,  and  many  small 
towns  in  Italy  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  various  Etjuscan  ceme- 
teries, such  as  Orvieto,  Perugia,  Grosseto,  Volterra,  Arezzo,  and  at 
Capua,  where  a  very  important  ceramic  museum  is  being  formed. 

LiUruture. — The  best  articles  on  the  subject  of  Greek  and  Etruscan  pottery 
are  scattered  through  the  numbers  of  various  archaeological  publications,  espe- 
cially the  Aniiali,  the  Monumeiiti^  and  the  BiiUeiino  deW  Snstituto  di  Corri- 
spondenza  ircheologica,  Rome,  1829,  and  still  in  progress.  See  also  the  BuUetino 
Archeologico  Kapolitano,  1842-59  ;  Stephani,  Compte  rendiL  de  la  Commissioii 
Arcliiologiquet  St  Petersburg,  1859  (iu  progress);  EulL  de  Cor.  UdUn.,  in  pro- 
gress; ArchdologiscJu  Zeitiing,  Berlin  ;  Phitologus:  Zeitschrift  fur  das  klassische 
AUerlhum;  JtheiniscJies  Mtisenm/Ur  Philologies  ^  roAa-ofojia,  Soc.  Ant.  London  ; 
Berichte  der  sdt:hsischen  Gcsellschaft  der  W isscnschajlin ;  Panofka,  Antiques  dii 
Cabinet  Ponrtalis,  1834 ;  C.  T.  Kewton,  Catalogue  of  Greek  Vases^  British  Museum, 
1851-70;  GcTh&Td.  Antike  Bitdwerke  (lS'2S-4i),  Anserlesene griechische  Vasenbilder 
(1840-58),  and  Griechische  und  etruskische  Trinkxhalen  (1840);  Benniiorf,  Griech- 
ixhe  und  siciliensche  Vascnbilder,  1877,  in  progress  (with  fine  coloured  plates, 
all  full  size):  Helbig,  IVandgemdlde  Campanier^s,  1868;  Inghirami,  Pitture  di 
Vasi  Jiltm,  1S32-39;  Millingen,  Unfiled  Monutnenis,  London,  1822-26:  Lenor- 
mant  and  De  Witte,  Monuments  Ceramographi/iues,  1814-61  ;  Raoul-Rochette, 
.Von  117/1671/5  d'Anliquite  Grecque,  &c.,  1833;  Lahn,  Gemdlde  ans  Pompei^  Ac, 
1828-59:  Brondsted,  Thirty-tmo  Greek  Vases,  1832:  Fiorelli,  Vast  dipinti,  4c., 
1856;  Gargiulo,  Vasi  Jittili  Italo-Greci,  183i  ;  Heydemann,  Griechiscbe  Vasen- 
bilder,  1870,  and  Die  Vasensammlungen  des  Musea  ru  Neapel,  1872  ;  Jahn,  Ueber 
Darstdlungen  griechischer  Dichler  auf  Vasenbildem,  1861,  and  Vasensammhtng 
zuMunchen,  lS'}i;  Levezoff,  Verzeichniss  der  antikea  Dcnkmiiler.  IS34  ;  Stephani, 
Vie  Vasensammlung  der  Krmitnge,  1869  ;  De  Wittc,  Vases  peinis  de  I'Etrurie, 
1837,  and  Vases  peints  de  la  Collection  Castellani,  1865  :  Brunn,  Probleme  in  der 
Gescliichte  der  Vasenmalcrel,  1871  ;  Dumont,  Peintures  ciram.  de  la  Grhe,  1874, 
end  Vases  peinis  de  la  Grece,  1873  ;  Dumont  and  Chaplain,  Les  Ch-aviiques  de  la 
Grkce,  Paris,  1883  (in  progress,  with  excellent  illustrations) ;  Kekule,  Griech. 
Vasengemalde  im  Mus.  zu  Bonn,  1879  ;  Roulez,  Vases  du  Musee  de  Leide,  Ghent, 
1854 ;  Collignon,  Cat.  des  Vases  du  .Viis.  d'Athhics,  Paris,  1877  ;  Froehner.  -47ia- 
lomie  des  Vases  Grccs,  Paris,  1880  :  Thiersch,  Die  hellen.  bemalten  Vasen,  Munich, 
1848.  The  following  works  deal  specially  with  the  vases  found  in  Etruria : — 
Inghimmi,  Museo  Chiusino,  Fiesole,  1833,  and  Mon.  Etruschi,  1845  ;  Conestabile, 
Mon.  di  Perugia,  1855.70 ;  Noel  Dcsvergers,  V^trurie,  Paris,  1862-64 ;  Bull. 
eUgti  Scavi  d.  Soc.  columbaria,  Florence,  in  progress;  Oozzadini,  Nccropoli  a 
Marzabotto  (1865-70),  Sepolcri  d.  Nccropoli  Felsinta  (186S),  Kecropoli  di  Viltanova 
(1870X  and  Sepolcri  neW  Arsenale  di  Bologna  (1675):  Zannoni,  Scavi  d.  Certosa 
di  Bologna  (W I),  Scavi  Arnoaldl  (1877),  and«Scot<t  di  via  d.  Pmtello  (IS~ 3);  all 
these  works  by  Gozzadini  and  Zanuoni  are  printed  at  Bologna.  See  also  Pindar, 
Neneean  Ode,  x.  61-67,  and  Strabo,  viii.  p.  381.  For  inscriptions  on  vases,  see 
Ephemeris  Epigraphica,  and  Bbckh.  Corp.  Iscr.  Gr. 

Section  VII. — Gr-eco-Roman  and  Roman; 

Some  specimens  of  very  peculiar  glazed  pottery  have 
been  found  at  Cyrene,  Cyme,  Pergamum,  Smyrna,  Tarsus, 
and  other  Roman  colonies  in  Asia  Minor.  It  is  very  deli- 
cate and  often  graceful  in  shape  (see  fig.  39),  with  very 
thin  handles,  fashioned  more  like  glass 
than  pottery.  It  is  remarkable  for  being 
covered  with  a  thick  vitreous  graze, 
usually  coloured  either  green,  orange,  or 
purjile-brown,  with  oxide  of  copper,  an- 
timoniate  of  lead,  or  manganese,  quite 
unlike  the  thin  almost  imperceptible 
glaze  of  Greek  vases.  This  pottery  is 
mostly  small ;  some  pieces  are  in  the 
shapes  of  cenochoa;,  two-handed  oups,  or 
asci,  the  latter  covered  with  graceful 
patterns  of  vines  or  other  plants  moulded 

in  slight  relief.     Statuettes  and  delicate         

reliefs,  parti-coloured  with  difl'crent  pjg  39, 
glazes  or  enamel.s,  have  been  found  at  man<Knochoe,highly 
several  of  the  above  places,  and  also  glazed  waio,  from 
larger  vessels,  crater.s,  and  bottle-shaped  ^y^^^^l^°{'  ^''""°'' 
vases,  decorated  with  moulded  clay  em-  "■''«"'"•  ^ 
blemata,  wholly  covered  with  a  fin^  blue  glaze.  The 
Louvre  and  the  British  Museum  have  the  best  specimens 
of  this  rare  ware,  which  probably  dates  from  the  1st  cen- 
tury B.C.  downwards. 

"  Samian "  ware,  the  characteristics  of  which  are  de- 
scribed below,  was  made  in  Italy  during  the 'first  period 
of  Grseco-Roman  art.  In  1883  some  nioukls  for  cups  and 
bowls  were  found  at  Arezzo,  all  of  the  most  wonderful 
beauty  and  gem -like  delicacy  of  execution.     The  figures 


-Grteco-Ro- 


on  them  are  from  about  3  to  4  inches  high,  but  are  large 
and  sculpturesque  in  their  breadth  of  treatment.  Some  of 
the  exquisite  reliefs  represent  dancing  fauns  and  bacchanals, 
with  flowing  drapery,  on  a  background  enriched  with  vine 
plants  in  slight  relief.  Another  has  a  love  scene  of  extra- 
ordinary grace  and  refined  beauty.  The  modelling  of  the 
nude  throughout  is  most  masterly.  The  treatment  of  these 
reliefs  recalls  the  school  of  Praxiteles,  though  they  are 
probably  not  earlier  than  the  1st  or  2d  century  B.C. 

Roman  PoiUry,  1st  Century  B.C.  to  5lh  Century  A.D. — 
Throughout  Italy,  Spain,  France,  Germany,  Britain,  and 
other  coimtries  occupied  by  the  Romans  great  quantities 
of  pottery  have  been  found,  varying  but  little  in  design 
or  manner  of  execution.  The  principal  varieties  of  this 
large  and  widely-spread  species  of  ware  may  be  classified 
thus — (1)  Samian  ware;  (2)  plain  biscuit  clayj  (3) 
pottery  decorated  with  sUp  in  relief ;  (4)  black  ware ; 
(5)  glazed  ware. 

1.  The  first  class  is  a  fine  glossy  red  ware  called 
"  Samian "  from  its  resemblance  to  the  red  pottery  pro- 
duced in  the  Greek  island  of  Samos.  The  name  is  a  con- 
venient one,  and  as  it  is  used  by  Pliny  (H.  N.,  xxxv.  46) 
and  other  early  writers  it  is  well  not  to  discard  it,  though 
probably  the  real  Greek  Samian  pottery  bore  little  resem- 
blance to  that  made  by  the  Romans  except  in  colour  and 
glossy  surface.  It  is  of  a  fine  red  sealing-wax-like  colour,  of 
pleasant  texture,  and  is  generally  decorated  with  moulded 
reliefs.  Materials  :  the  clay  body  usually  jconsists  of  silica 
50-64  parts,  alumina  18-25,  red  oxide  of  iron  7-10,  and 
lime  2-9  parts ;  these  proportions  vary  in  different  speci- 
mens. The  red  vitreous  glaze,  or  rather  enamel,  which 
gives  the  ware  its  fine  glossy  surface  consists  of  silica  64 
parts,  soda  20,  and  red  oxide  of  iron  1 1  (average  analysis). 
Method  of  manufaci-ure:  the  bowls,  cups,  and  other  vessels, 
richly  decorated  outside  with  reliefs,  were  made  thus.  In 
the  case  of  a  bowl,  a  mould  was  first  prepared,  of  hard 
well-burned  clay,  covered  inside  with  incuse  designs  ;  these 
sunk  patterns  were  made  either  by  hand-modelling  or,  more 
usually,  with  the  aid  of  stamps  modelled  in  relief.  Thus 
the  inside  of  the  bowl-mould  corresponded  to  the  outside 
of  the  future  Samian  bowl,  which  was  first  turned  on  the 
wheel  quite  plain,  but  of  the  right  size  to  fit  into  the 
mould.  Then,  while  it  was  still  soft  it  was  pressed  into 
the  mould,  and  afterwards  both  were  put  upon  the  wheel 
together.  As  the  wheel  revolved,  the  potter  could  at  the 
same  time  press  the  clay  into  the  sunk  ornaments  of  the 
mould  and  finish  neatly  the  inside  of  the  vessel.  In  some 
cases  he  raised  the  walls  of  the  bowl  high  above  the  mould 
by  adding  clay,  and  thus  with  the  same  mould  could  pro- 
duce a  variety  of  forms,  though  the  lower  or  decorated 
portion  always  remained  the  same.  A  fine  crater  in  the 
Louvre  was  made  in  this  way.  The  vessel  was  then  re- 
moved from  the  mould  and  the  reliefs  touched  up  by  hand 
(in  the  finer  specimens)  with  bone  or  wooden  modelling- 
tools.  The  reliefs  thus  produced  are  often  very  graceful 
in  design,  but  are  mostly  wanting  in  sharpness,  many  being 
blunted  by  the  touch  of  the  potter's  fingers  in  handling  the 
pot  after  it  was  removed  from  the  mould.*  It  was  next 
covered  with  the  materials  for  the  red  enamel,  very  fijicly 
ground  and  fired  in  the  usual  way.  Fig.  40  shows  a  design 
of  typical  character.  The  outer  reliefs  consist  generally 
of  graceful  flo^ving  scroll-work  of  vines,  ivy,  or  other  orna- 
ments, mixed  occasionally  with  human  figures  and  animals. 
The  finest  sorts  of  Samian  ware  were  made  at  Arezzo 
(Arctium)  in  Italy  ^  and  Saguntum  in  Spain  (the  modem 

'  In  some  rare  coses  tlio  reliefs  were  moulded  separately  and  then 
applied  to  the  plain  wheel-turned  vessel  while  yot  soft,  but  this  waa 
exceptional. 

'  See  ?'abroni,  Vati  filltli  Arclini,  1-iil,  and  Ingbiranii,  Mon. 
Etrus.,  1845. 


618 


ED  T  T  E  R  Y 


[eoma:*. 


Plain' 
biscait. 


Murviedro).  It  was  also  produced  in  France  and  Ger- 
many, and  the  discovery^pf  _a,  Samian  bowl -mould  at 
York  makes  it-'  ,„ 

appear  probable  "* - ' '    "  " * 

that  it  was  made 
in  Britain,  where 
great  quantities 
of  it  have  been 
found.  ~  This 
ware  is  of  great 
beauty,  both  in' 
colour  and  in  its  \ 
delicate  surface 
reliefs ;  it  is  the' 
mostartistic  sort  > 


Fio.  40.— Bowl  of  Samian  ware,  with  moulded' 
patterns  in  slight  relief. ' 


of  pottery  that  the  Romans  produced.  It  appears  to  have 
been  highFy  valued,  as  many  Samian  bowls  have  been 
found  carefully  mended  with  bronze  or  lead  rivets.  In 
addition  to  the  moulded  ware  many  vessels  of  the  same 
class  were  made  plain  from  the  wheel ;  others  have  a 
peculiar  scale  ornament  in  relief  applied  by  the  potter's 
thumb,  a  form  of  decoration  common  in  other  varieties  of 
Roman  pottery. , '  . 

,2.  Plain  Biscuit  Pottery  is  made  of  simple  unglazed 
day,  without  decoration,  of  a  soft  body  and  quite  porous. 
The  clay  is  mostly  composed  thus  :  silica  48-69  per  cent., 
alumina  10-22,  oxide  of  iron  8-13,  lime  li-18  per  cent., 
but  it,  of  course,  varies  according  to  the  locality  where  the 
pottery  was  made.    Fig.  41  shows  some  of  the  forms  of 


Fig.  41'. — TvDic&rshapes  of  common  Eoman  liiscuit  pottery. 

this  simple  ware.  It  was "  specially  used  for  amphone, 
often  nearly  2  feet  high,  sepulchral  urns,  and  vessels  for 
common  domestic  use.  The  forms  are  mostly  graceful  and 
natural.  The  clay  is  of  many  colours,  including  all  shades 
of  red,  grey,  brown,  yellow,  and  (rarely)  almost  pure  white. 
Some  of  this  pottery  has  the  grain  which  had  been  pro- 
duced by  the  wheel  carefully  smoothed  out  by  a  tool  or 
the  potter's  hand,  or  in  some  cases  by  dipping  the  piece 
into  a  bath  of  thin  fluid  slip,  but  it  is  more  commonly  left 
without  any  attempt  at  smoothness  or  high  finish. 

3.  Pottery  toith  Reliefs  applied  in  Slip. — This  is  a  very 
remarkable  kind  of  decoration,  in  which  great  skill  was 
shown  by  the  Roman  potters.  The  slip,  finely-ground 
clay,  was  mixed  -(vith  water  to  about  the  consistency  of 
vei-y  thick  cream,  and  was  allowed  to  run  slowly  or  drop 


otf  a  wooden  point  or  flat  spatula  upon  the  outside  of 
ordinary  wheel-made  pottery.  Very  spirited  figures  of 
animals  (see  fig.  42) — hares  pur- 
sued by  dogs,  hons,  goats,  horses, 
deer,  or  even  complicated  sub- 
jects with  human  figures  such  as 
gladiators'  combats — and  a  great 
variety  of  graceful  scroll -orna- 
ments of  vine,  ivy,  or  convolvulus 
were  produced  in  this  way  with 
wonderful  ingenuity.  Both  the 
outline  and  the  modelling  were 
given  vnth.  curious  precision  by 

the  quantity  of  semi-fluid  slip  Fig.~  42.  —  Roman  ciip,' with 
which  was  allowed  to  flow  off  the"  reliefs  of  a  stag  puisnert  by  a 
tool.  The  bbdy,  e.,9.,  of  a  dog  bound,  executed  in  sciHi-fluid 
would  be  poured  off  a  sort  of 

small  palette-knife,  and  its  thinner  legs  formed  by  trailing 
along  a  point  dipped  in  the  slip.  Tools  for  this  purpose 
have  been  found  near  Roman  kilns.  One  of  the  most 
elaborate  specimens  of  this  kind  of  pottery  is  a  cup  in  the 
Colchester  Museum,  covered  with  reliefs  of  chariot -races 
and  gladiators'  combats,  done  with  great  vigour  and  even 
minuteness  of  detail  considering  the  diflSculties  of  the 
process.  In  some  cases,  especially  when  the  designs  are 
simple  scroll  or  geometrical  ornaments,  additional  effect 
is  produced  by  the  use  of  a  slip  coloured  differently  from 
the  body  of  the  pot.  Frequently  the  relief-patterns  are 
white,  made  of  pipeclay,  applied  to  a  red  or  dark  coloured 
vessel.  The  vessels  with  this  class  of  decoration  are 
mostly  small  bowls,  cups,  or  bottle-like  vases.  Some  few 
are  made  of  the  Samian  ware,  but  more  commonly  they 
are  grey  or  blackish  with  body  and  slip  both  of  the  same 
clay.  A  great  deal  of  coarse  Roman  pottery  is  rudely 
decorated  with  a  thin  slip  of  red,  white,  or  yellow  clay, 
put  on  with  a  brush  in  coarse  bands  or  scroll-patterns. 
The  slip  in  this  case  is  treated  as  a  pigment  of  the  sim- 
plest kind,  and  does  not  stand  out  in  relief.  With  this 
trifling  exception,  nothing  in  the  form  of  painted  vases 
was  produced  by  the  potters  of  Roman  times. 

4.  Black  Pottery  is  usually  made  from  a  very  silicious  or  Blad 
sandy  clay,  composed  thus — (average  of  several  analyses)  w*'^* 
silica  76  parts,  alumina  10,  oxide  of  iron  9,  lime  2.  It 
owes  its  black  colour  and  rather  metallic  gloss  to  the 
direct  contact  of  smoke- in  a  close  or  smother  kiln.  If 
heated  in  an  open  fire  it  burns  out  usually  to  a  greyist 
white.  A  great  deal  of  this  ware  belongs  also  to  class 
3,  as  it  is  frequently  decorated  with  simple  patterns  in 
white  slip  ;  the  presence  of  the  white  clay  on  the  black 
body  implies  a  second  firing,  free  from  the  contact  of 
smoke,  and  not  high  enough  in  temperature  to  burn  the 
black  out  of  the  bofly  of  the  pot.  This  ware  was  largely 
made  at  many  places  in  Germany  Slong  the  Rhine,  in 
France,  and  especially  at  Castor  in  Northamptonshire, 
where  remains  of  manj'  Roman  kilns  have  been  found. 
It  varies  very  much  in  .shape  and  in  method  of  decoration. 
Some  of  the  numerous  specimens  from  Bonn  and  Rhein- 
zabem  are  treated  in  a  manner  different  from  the  British 
varieties.  A  few  are  coated  ^\'ith  a  black  similar  to  that 
used  by  the  Greeks,  but  very  thin  and  poor  in  quality. 
Others  have  a  mechanical  polish  applied  after  firing,  whilst 
the  pot  was  again  set  on  the  wheel,  by  rubbing  it  with 
black  lead,  occasionally  applied  in  bands  of  alternately  dull 
and  bright  black  all  round  the  pot.  A  fine  specimen  from 
Coblentz,  now  in  the  Sevres  Museum,  has  a  curious  com- 
bination of  stamped  work  and  reliefs  formed  in  fluid  slip. 
The  design  represents  a  lion  running  through  vine-branches. 
The  body  of  the  lion  and  the  grapes  are  stamped  from  a 
mould,  the  rest  being  done  in  slip.  Cups  and  small  jars  o) 
this  ware  are  frequently  modelled  into  strange  shapes  bj 


WlTAN.] 


POTTERY 


619 


being  pinched  in  at  .various  places  by  the  potter's  fingers 
while  they  were  fresh  from  the  wheel.  Others  are  deco- 
rated with  groups  of  dots,  made  of  semi-fluid  slip,  appa- 
rently applied  through  a  pierced  stencil-plate  (see  fig.  43) 
The  dots  are  arranged 
in  close  rows,  forming 
rectangular  patches,  ar-  ; 
ranged  round  the  body  J 
of  the  vessel, — a  very  ^' 
dull  kind  of  ornament,  ^ 
which  may,  however,  i 
have  had  a  practical  use  ^ 
in  making  the  pottery  Fio.  43.— Koman  black  ware  decomted 

less  liable  to  slip  from     7^'^,  ^7^\,°llTJlZ"^'"^'  '"^ 

,    ,  ,     ,     „      ^  blackened  in  tlie  smother  kiln, 

the  holders  fingers. 

5.  Glazed  Pottery. — This  is  rare,  but  has  been  found  in 
most  of  the  countries  once  occupied  by  the  Eomans.  Some 
of  the  best  specimens  resemble  that  described  abcwe  as 
Graeco- Roman  glazed  ware.  Most  are,  however,  veiT' 
inferior,  both  in  execution  and  in  the  quality  of  the  glaze, 
which  is  a  true  glass,  usually  coloured  light  green  or  brown- 
ish yellow.  A  cake  of  semi-fused  greenish  glass,  appa- 
rently intended  for  this  purpose,  was  found  in  the  ruins  of 
a  kiln  in  Britain.  This  glazed  pottery  is  small,  and  is 
decorated  in  various  ways,  by  incised  lines,  or  groups  of  dots 
in  relief,  or  by  brush-applied  stripes  of  red  or  white  clay. 

In  addition  to  the  forms  of  Roman  domestic  pottery  shown  in 
the  above  figures  one  peculiar  shape  occurs  very  IVecjuently,  namely, 
the  "mortarium,"  a  large  shallow  dish,  made  of  thick  clay,  with 
a  spout  at  one  side,  used  for  triturating  cooked  vegetables  or  other 
soft  substances.  The  inside  of  these  mortar-like  dishes  is  often 
roughened  by  being  sprinkled,  while  in  a  soft  state,  with  crushed 
quartz  or  pottery,  apparently  to  aid  the  process  of  pounding. 
They  are  made  of  various  kinds  of  ware,  especially  red  Samian  and 
yellow  biscuit  clay. 

Clay  lamps  were  very  largely  used  by  the  Eomans,  mostly  made 
of  plain  biscuit  clay,  but  the  finest  specimens  are  in  the  red  Samian 
ware.  A  few  have  been  found  with  a  thick  vitreous  glaze,  coloured 
like  the  rest  of  the  Roman  glazed  wares  (see  Lamp,  vol.  xiv.  p.  247). 

An  extensive  use  of  baked  clay  was  made  by  the  Romans  in  the 
manufacture  of  bricks,  roofing -tiles,  flue-tiles,  drain-pipes,  baths, 
and  even  coffins.  The  bricks  are  generally  very  large  and  thin, 
some  15  to  18  inches  long,  and  only  1 J  inches  thick,  and  walls  were 
entirely  built  of  them.  They  were  also  used  to  form  alternating 
bands  in  atone  walls,  the  brick  bands  usually  consisting  of  from 
three  to  five  courses.  In  Rome  bricks  were  merely  used  as  a  facing 
to  concrete  walls.  They  are  always  triangular  in  shape,  except  such 
as  were  set  at  the  angles  of  walls  and  used  as  facing  to  arches.  Those 
used  for  the  latter  pui'pose  are  generally  two  Roman  feet  square 
(about  1  foot  Hi  inches  English).  See  Rome.  Tlie  ."system  of 
hteting  employed  by  the  Romans  in  their  houses  and  baths  was 
very  ingenious  and  complete.  Sometimes  the  whole  walls  of  a  room 
were  lined  with  clay  flue-pipes,  square  in  section,  whicli,  being  con- 
nected at  the  bottom  with  the  hypocaust,  carried  the  hot  air  over 
the  whole  wall-surface  as  well  as  under  the  floor  (see  IS.VTff),  the 
mosaic  and  concrete  area  of  which  (the  "  suspensura  ")  was  supported 
on  large  clay  slabs  carried  on  short  brick  pillars.'  Flanged  tiles, 
similar  to  those  used  for  roofing,  were  often  built  up  on  edge,  with 
others  set  across  the  top,  to  form  graves,  and  to  protect  tho-se}ml- 
chral  urns  and  otlicr  buried  objects  from  being  crushed  by  the 
weight  of  earth  upon  them. 

Roman  roUery-kilna. — Great-numbers  of  Roman  kilns  have  been 
found  in  various  countries,  but  none  quite  perfect.  They  are  small, 
round,  or  oval  structures  of  brick,  with  a  place  for  the  fuel  at  one 
aide,  and  a  floor  made  of  pierced  slabs  of  clay,  on  which  the  pots 
were  piled,  the  flames  and  hot  air  passing  througli  the  holes  in 
the.clay  floor.  Most  kilns  wore  probably  covered  by  a  brick  dome 
with  a  central  opening,  exactly  the  same  in  principle  as  the  early 
Corinthian  kiln  shown  in  fig.  3.  The  smother  kilns  may,  how- 
ever, have  been  arranged  rather  differently,  so  as  to  fire  the  rots 
m'an  atmospherB  of  heated  smoke  ;  or  this  may  liave  been  (lone 
by  partly  closing  the  aperture  at  tlio  top,  in  order  to  half  smother 
the  fire,  and  prevent  its  burning  with  a  hot  clear  flame.  Fig.  44 
shows  the  remains  of  one  of  the  Castor  kilns,  about  7  feet  in  diameter, 
with  an  arched  opening  for  the  insertion  of  the  fuel,  and  a  pierced 
floor,  made  of  large  clay  slabs  radiating  to  a  central  point,  where 
Cliey  were  supported  by  a  brick  pillar.  Other  kilns  have  been  found 
In  the  Upohvirch  marshes  (Kent),  along  the  Severn  banks  in  Shrop- 
ahire,  nt^shdon  (Essex),  Colchester,  London,  York,  and  many  other 
wniano- British  towns.    Though  varying  in  shape,  yet  in  ijoneral 


principle  Roman  kilus,  in  whatever  country  they  are  found,  are 
practically  the  same. 

Inscriptions  on  Eoman  Pottery. — Potters'  names,  impressed  from 
oblong  or  circular  incuse  stamps,  occur  very  frequently  on  many 
varieties  ,of  Roman  pottery,  especially  on  the  plain  biscuit  axA 


Fig.  44. — Roman  kiln  fouml  at  Castor.  The  low  arch  is  for  the  inser- 
tion of  the  fuel  ;  the  pots  rested  on  the  perforated  floor,  made  <A 
clay  slabs ;  the  top  of  the  kiln  is  missing, — it  was  probably  a  dome. 

Samian  wares.  Teutonic  and  Gaulish  names  sometimes  appear, 
showing  that  in  certain  cases  native  potters  worked  at  the  Roman 
potteries.  'W^ien  the  potter's  name  is  in  the  nominative,  it  la 
followed  by  F.  or  FECIT ;  if  in  the  genitive,  by  MAN  V  or 
OPFICINA,  usually  in  some  contracted  form.  In  addition  to  the 
potter's  name  those  of  the  owner  ^  f  the  workshop  and  of  the  estate 
from  which  the  clay  came  occasionally  occur,  as,  for  example, 
OP{US)  DOL(IARE)  L.  IVLI  THEOD(OTI)  EfQVmS) 
R(OMAOT)  FIG(LINAE)  SAL(AKLA.E)  EX  PR(AEDIS) 
FL(AVII)  TITIANl  C.  V.  (clarissimi  viri),  "  Pot-work  from  the 
salarian  manufactory  belonging  to  L.  Julius  Theodotus,  a  Roman 
knight,  (the  clay  taken)  from  the  estate  of  Flavius  Titianus,  a  most 
distinguished  rierson,"  this  last  being  a  title  us4d  like  the  English 
"esquire."  This  brick  stamp  is  from  a  house  built  against  the 
ancient  wall  round  the  Capitoline  hill,  and  dates  from  the  middle 
of  the  2d  century  A.B.  Few  brick  stamps  found  in  Rome  are  older 
than  the  end  of  the  1st  century  a.d.  ;  but  some  have  been  found 
at  Velia  in  Cisalpine  Gaul  dated  with  the  names  of  the  consuls  for 
75  B.  0.  Others  have  also  the  name  of  the  ruling  emperor.  Roman 
soldiers  were  often  employed  to  make  bricks  and  tiles  ;  and  many 
such  are  stamped  with  thc.mark  or  number  of  a  Roman  legion,  e.g., 
LEG.VI.for  "legio  sexta."  Amphoite  were  occasionally  inscribed, 
in  rudely-painted  ochre  colours,  with  words  to  indicate  the  quality  of 
wine  they  contained  or  their  measure  of  capacity,  but  such  inscrip- 
tions were  probably  added  when  the  amphorae  were  in  their  o\vner's" 
cellar,  and  were  simply  painted  in  tempera.  Numbers  of  largo 
amphora;  were  frequently  embedded  in  the  concrete  of  which  Roman 
vaults  were  made,  especially  during  the  3d  and  4th  centuries  A.D., 
one  object  of  this  being  to  gain  lightness  without  much  loss  of 
strength.  The  circus  of  Maxentius  and  the  mausoleum  of  the 
empress  Helena,  both  outside  the  walls  of  Rome,  are  examples  of 
this  curious  use  of  pottery. 

ii<cra«urf.— Pliny,  H.  N.,  xxxv. ;  Birch,  Ancimt  Potlerti,  1873;  Jevitt, 
Ceramic  Art  of  Great  Britain,  vol.  i.,  1S77  ;  Artis,  The  Durobn'vm  of  Antowinta, 
182S ;  Church,  Corinium  Mitseum,  lS71 ;  Cochet,  ArchMogie  c^ramiquf,  1860 ; 
Hoach-Smith,  Roman  London,  1859 ;  Wright,  The  Celt,  the  Itomati.  and  tAt 
."iaxon,  18til ;  Marcilly,  L'Art  c^raviique  tn,  O'aute,  1874;  Fabroni,  Vaii  JittiH 
Aretini,  1841  (Samian  woi-e) ;  Robert,  Lcs  figures  dM  poteries  rovtjttttres  antiques, 
18(l/i  ;  Shortt,  Sitlria  an.'if/iJa  Israna,  1841.  Sco  nlfio  nmiiy  articles  iu  ArctlMO- 
logia,  the  Aretuvological  Journal,  and  other  societies'  Proceedings. 

Section  VIII. — Persian  and  Moslem. 

It  is  convenient  to  class  under  this  head  all  the  numerotn 
varieties  of  pottery  which  were  the  work  of  lilosiem  races. 
In  all  this  pottery,  \vith  the  exception  of  that  included 
under  the  head  "  Hispano- Moorish  "  (see  p.  622),  there  is 
a  great  similarity  in  character  of  design '  and  in  methods 
of  execution,  both  of  which  appear  to  a  great  extent  to 
have  been  originated  and  brought  to  higliest  perfection 
under  the  Persians,  wlio  seem. to  have  inherited,'  through 
the  Sasanians,  much  of  the  skill  in  mani])ulating  clay  and 
manufacturing  enamels  and  glazes  which  was  possessed 
by  the  people  of  ancient  Assj'ria.  The  Persians  of  the 
10th  to  the  17th  century,  perfect  masters  of  all  the  de- 
corative arts  to  a  decree  possessed  probably  by  no  othei 


620 


POTTERY 


[PERSIAN. 


race  or  age,  excelled  in  pottery  as  inT  other  handicrafts. 
Their  enamels  and  glazes  are  made  and  applied  with  the 
greatest  skill ;  their  colours  are  brilliant  and  yet  harmoni- 
trns ;  and  the  patterns  painted  on  their  pottery  are  designed 
With  the  most  wonderful  grace  and  freedom,  together  with 
a  perfect  sense  of  the  right  kind  of  ornament  to  use  for 
each  special  place  and  material. ' 

Materials  used  by  Persian  Potters. — In~  most  cases  the 
clay  body  of  Persian  pottery  is  completely  covered  either 
with  a  white  enamel  or  with  slip,  and  therefore  any  sort  of 
clay  sufficiently  plastic  for  the  wheel  suited  the  purpose^ 
whatever  its  colour.  The  enamel  was  much  the  same  as 
that  used  by  the  ancient  Assyrians,  except  that  it  con- 
tained a  much  larger  proportion  of  oxide  of  lead,  of  which 
there  were  often  three  parts  to  one  of  oxide  of  tin  and 
five  of  silicate  of  soda.  The  white  slip  is  silicate  of 
alumina  with  some  alkali.  The  glaze  is  either  a  pure- 
silicate  of  soda,  or  has  in  addition  a  Little  oxide  of  lead  to 
increase  its  fusibility.  The  pigments  are  oxides  of  cobalt 
and  copper  for  the  blues  and  greens,  manganese  for  the 
pvirples,  oxides  of  copper  and  iron  for  the  reds,  magnetic 
oxide  of  iron  for  the  black,  and  antimony  for  the  yellow'; 
a  rich  warm  orange  was  produced  by  a  mixture  of  anti- 
mony and  red  oxide  of  iron.  It  is  not  always  possible 
without  actual  analysis  to  tell  ■syhether  the  white  ground 
of  Persian  pottery  is  a  tin  enamel  or  a  glazed  slip,  especially 
as  in  many  cases  a  glaze  is  applied  over  the  enamel ;  but 
this  is  not  a  point  of  great  importance,  as  the  decorative 
treatment  of  the  white  ground  was  in  either  case  much 
the  same. 

The  following  are  the  chief  varieties  of  Persian  pottery. 

1.  Lxistred  Ware. — The  application  of  lustre  colours 
requires  a  special  process  of  firing.  The  following  descrip- 
tion applies  equally  to  the  other  two  classes  of  pottery  in 
which  lustre  pigments  were  largely  used,  namely,  Hispano- 
Moorish  and  Italian  majolica.  The  special  beauty  of- the 
lustre  depends  on  the  decomposition  of  a  metallic  salt, 
usually  silver  or  copper ;  the  required  design  was  painted 
in  a  pigment  composed  mainly  of  this  salt  over  the  sur- 
face of  the  smooth  enamel  or  glaze  after  it  had  been  fired. 
The  vessel  with  the  lustre  pigments  was  then  fired  again 
in  a  kiln  specially  so  arranged  that  the  heated  gases  and 
smoke  should  come  into  contact  with  the  metaDic  pig- 
ments ;  the  minute  and  heated  particles  of  carbon  in  the 
smoke  combined  with  the  oxygen  of  the  salt,  setting  free 
the  metal,  which  was  left,  in  a  finely-divided  state,  fixed 
on  the  surface  of  the  enamel.  In  this  way  a  beautiful 
prismatic  effect  was  produced  like  the  colours  of  mother- 
of-pearl.  The  lustre  colours  when  looked  at  from  one 
point  of  view  are  simply  various  shades  of  browns  and 
yellows,  but  when  seen  at  an  angle  they  appear  shot  with 
the  most  brilliant  violets,  blues,  purples,  and  red.  They 
were  used  generally,  and  with  best  effect,  over  a  white 
ground  (see  fig.  45),  but  also  over  deep-blue  or  green 
enamels.  Lustre  colours  were  specially  used  by  the  Persians 
for  wall-decoration  (see  Tiles),  but  they  also  used  them  on 
both  white  and  blue  enamel  grounds  to  ornament  hookah- 
bottles,  bowls,  plates,  ewers,  and  tall  rose-water  bottles. 
The  lustre  is  generally  used  alone,  and  not,  as  in  the  Italian 
majolica,  combined  mth  other  non-lustre  pigments.  Its 
use  is  very  early  in  Persia  :  dated  specimens  exist  of  the 
10th  century ;  and  its  manufacture  has  continued  down 
to  the  present  time,  though  that  now  made  is  of  a  very 
inferior  quality. 

2.  Coarse  pottery  covered  ■with  a  fine  white  silicious 
slip,  on  which  arabesques  and  other  simple  patterns  are 
painted  in  black,  the  whole  then  covered  by.  a  transpafent 
green  glaze.  This  is  a  very  ancient  sort  of  ware,  made  in 
Eg3rpt  during  the  XVIIIth  Dynasty  and  many  centuries 
after  by  Moslem  potters,  from  the  early  years  of  their  occu- 


pation of  Egjrpt  down  to  a  very  recent  period.     To  this 
class  belong  the  "bacini"  or  large  dishes  with  which  some 


Flo."'45. — Persian  ewer,  white  enamelled  gnound,  with  pattern  ift 
brown  copper  lustre ;  the  upper  part  has  a  blue  ground.  The  mount. 
ing  is  gilt  bronze,  Italian  16th-century  work.     (British  Museum.) 

of  the  12th-century  churches  in  Pisa  and  other  towns  in 
Italy  were  decorated.  They  were  built  in  on  the  outside 
walls  of  the  campanili,  or  used  in  rows  to  form  friezes. 
In  design  and  method  of  execution  they  have  nothing  in 
common  with  Italian  majolica,  and  the  oft-repeated  story 
of  their  being  the  models  from  which  the  Italians  learned 
to  make  their  majolica  appears  to  be  a  baseless  fable. 

3.  Sgraffiato  TFnre.— ^These  are  certain  large  bowls  or 
jars  decorated  in  a  peculiar  way,  being  covered  first  with 
a  coating  of  white  enamel  and  then  with  a  complete  coat- 
ing of  brown  or  deep-blue  enamel.  The  pattern,  usually 
graceful  branches  of  plants  with  pointed  leaves,  is  formed 
by  cutting  through  the  upper  coloured  layer  down  to  the 
white  enamel  underneath  befpre  firing  in  the  kiln.  Thus 
the  design  appears  in  white  with  a  coloured  ground.  The 
white  is,  of  course,  slightly  sunk  below  the  coloured  layer. 
Bowls  thus  decorated  are  mostly  white  inside,  with  a  little 
simple  painting  in  blue,  the  sgraffiato  or  incised  work  being 
only  on  the  outside. 

4.  The  next  class  is  the  reverse  of  the  incised  ware  in 
treatment :  the  whole  vessel  is  covered  with  brown  or  blue 
enamel,  and  the  design,  either  arabesques  geomfetricaUy 
treated  or  natural  sprays  of  Joliage,  is  painted  over  it  in 
white  enamel,  thickly  applied  so  as  to  stand  out  in  slight 
relief.  This  and  the  preceding  class  are  usually  glazed 
over  the  enamels,  a  common  Persian  practice,  to  gain  addi- 
tional richness  and  brilliance  of  surface.  Somewhat  akin 
to  this  ware  in  style  is  a  very  beautiful  sort  of  pottery 
with  most  graceful  and  delicate  designs  touched  on  with  a 
fine  brush  over  a  white  enamel  ground.  The  pigments  are 
blue,  green,  grey,  and  a  very  rich  orange  tending  to  red, 
and  are  all  thickly  but  very  delicately  put  on  ;  these  pieces 
are  of  extreme  beauty  both  in  colours  and  in  design.  Tall 
jars,  bottles,  bowls,  plates,  and  hookah-jars  are  the  vessels 
usually  decorated  in  this  way.  Some  of  the  large  plates 
are  perfect  marvels  of  decorative  beauty  of_the_most 
refined  and  graceful  kind.  ^ 

5.  Damascus    Ware. — Under   this    head    is   generally  DamT 
included 'a  good  deal  of  Persian  pottery  made  at  other '^"^^' 
places  besides  Damascus,  but  of  similar  style  and  colour- 
ing.    It  is  mostly  remarkable  for  the  fineness  of  its  white 
enamel  or  slip,  its  rich  glaze,  and  the  beauty  of  the  designs 

and  colours.     One  class  is  painted  wholly  in  various  tints 


aHODIAN.J 


P  O  T  T  Ji:  R  Y 


621 


of  blue,  the  design  being  often  regular  and  treated  with 
some  geometrical  stiffness.  Other  sorts  have  in  addition 
a  soft  olive  green,  and  purple-brown  made  of  manganese 
/see  fig.  46).     One  of  the  finest  specimens  of  the  'ware  is 


fia.  46. — Plate  of  Damascus  ware,  painted  in  several  tints  of  blue, 
B  quiet  green,  and  manganese  purple.     (British  Museum.) 

ft  lamp  taken  from  the  Dome  of  the  Rock  at  Jerusalem, 
(ind  now  in  the  possession  of  Mr  Drury  Fortnum,  F.S.A. 
(see  fig.  47).  It  is  inscribed  in  large  blue  letters  vrith 
pious  sayings  of 
Mohammed,  and  in 
small  black  charac- 
ters round  the  lower 
rim,  "In  the  year 
9.56,  in  the  month 
JumAdii 'l-\lla.  The 
painter  is  the  poor, 
the  humble  Mus- 
tafa." According  to 
our  reckoning  this 
date  is  June  1549 
A.D.,  the  year  when 
the  Dome  was  re- 
Stored  by  Sultan 
Suleiman,  who  was 
probably  the  donor 
of  this  'beautiful 
lamp.  One  class  of 
painted  decoration 
used  in  Damascus 
ware  has  flowers 
treated  in  a  simple 
way,  yet  with  much 
natural  beauty, such  Fw-  47.— Lamp  from  the  Dome  of  the  Rock, 

astherose,hyaeinth,     f^'^i^'^'''  f^  T°  'tT  "n**'  *^- 
.    ,.  '   •;  :      (Collection  of  Mr  Drury  Fortnum.) 

tulip,  carnation,  and  ■ 

others,  arranged  on  large  plates  and  bowls  with  the  most 

perfect  skill  and  good  taste.     The  plate  shown  above  (fig.- 

46)  is  a  good  example  of  this  sort  of  design. 

6.  Rhodian  ware,    go    called    because   it    was   largely 

manufactured  by  Oriental  potters  in  the  island  of  Rhodes, 

is  made  of  rather  coarse  clay,  covered  with  a  fine  white 

silicious  slip,  on  which  the  decorations  are  painted,  the 

whole  being  then  covered  Tsith  a  thick  glaze  formed  of 

silica,  oxide  of  lead,  and  soda.     Its  chief  characteristic  is 

the  use  of  a  -fine  red  pigment,  which  owes  its  colour  to 


the  red  oxide  of  iron.  This  pigment  was  applied  m  very 
thick  body,  so  that  it  stands  out  in  actual  relief  like 
drops  of  sealing-wax.  Plates,  tall  bottles,  jars,  mugs,  and 
pitchers  with  handles  are  the  usual  forms.  They  are  all 
decorated  with  patterns  of  great  beauty  and  splendoui 
of  colour,  brilliant  blues,  greens,  and  the  peculiar  red  being 
the  chief  (see  fig.  48).  The  designs  are  mostly  flowers 
exactly  the  same  in 
drawing  and  ar- 
rangement as  those  ^ 
on  the  last- men- 
tioned sort  of  Dam- 
ascus ware.  Other 
more  geometrical 
patterns  are  also 
used,  but  mostly  for 
wall-decoration.  The 
finest  specimens  of 
Rhodian  ware  date  ' 
from  the  16th  and 
first  halfof  the  17th 
centuries.  Other 
pieces  of  this  pot- 
tery, which  appear 
to  have  been  made 
for  European  buyers, 
have  coats  of  arms 
or  human  figures,  the 
latter  very  Coarsely 
executed,  and  prob 
ably  later  in  date 
than  the  purely  Ori- 
ental designs.  The  town  of  Lindus,  where  ruined  kilna 
yet  remain,  was  one  of  the  chief  places  in  Rhodes  for  the 
production  of  this  kind  of  pottery.  With  other  Oriental 
wares  it  was  imported  into  western  Europe  during  tha 
16th  century.  Some  specimens  exist  with  English  silver 
mounts  of  the  time  of  Elizabeth,  very  elaborately  wrought. 
It  was  probably  included  under  the  title  of  "  Danias  ware," 
a  name  which  often  occurs  in  mediaeval  inventories,  and 
appears  to  include  many  varieties  of  Oriental  pottery,  all 
of  which  were  very  highly  valued  in  France,  Italy,  and 
England  during  the  long  period  when  the  native  pottery 
in  those  countries  was  of  a  very  rude  description.  The 
South  Kensington  M  iseum  and  the  Hotel  Cluny  in  Paris 
have  the  finest  collections  of  this  magnificent  class  of 
Oriental  pottery ;  some  very  choice  specimens  are  in  the 
British  Museum  and  the  Louvre. 

7.  Pottery  made  in  Persia  under  Chinese  Influence. — This 
includes  several  varieties  more  or  less  strongly  Chinese  in 
method  of  execution  or  in  design.  It  is  recorded  that 
J5b4h  'AbbAs  I.,  a  great  patron'  of  all  the  arts,  about  the 
j'ear  1600,  invited  a  number  of  Chinese  potters  to  establish 
themselves  at  Ispahan  for  the  sake  of  introducing  improve- 
ments in  the  manufacturo  of  pottery.  Though  no  hard 
porcelain  like  that  of  China  appears  to  have  been  made  in 
Persia,  several  new  methods  of  work  were  introduced,  and 
a  new  style  of  decoration,  half-Chinese  and  half-Persian, 
was  largely  used  for  a  long  period  after  the  arrival  of  the 
Chinese  potters 

The  main  varieties  of  this  Pcrso-Cliineso  ware  are  the  following. 
(1)  A  sort  of  semi-porcelain,  called  by  English  dealers,  quite  with- 
out reason,  "Gombroon  ware,"  which  is  pure  while  and  semi-trans- 
parent, but,  unlike  Chinese  porcelain,  is  soft  and  friable  where  not 


Flo.  48. — Rhodian  jug. 


protected  by  the  glaze.  It  is  composed  of  silicate  of  alumina,  with 
ireo  silica,  and  an  alkaline  tlux  ;  in  the  heat  of  an  ordinary  porcelain 
furnace  it  fuses  into  a  transparent  glass.  It  is  very  fragile,  but  is 
of  an  extremely  pleasant  texture  and  slightly  creamy  tint.  It  is 
frequently  decorated  with  simple  patterns  pierced  through  the  sides 
of  the  vessel;  the. holes  are  filled  up  by  the  transparent  glaze 
which  covers  the  whole,  thus  forming,  as  it  were,  little  winUowi 
of  ploaj  glass.     It  is  also  often  decorated  with  painted  flowers  or 


622 


E  O  T  T  E  R  Y 


[hispaxo-.moorish. 


trabesques  in  cobalt  blue  and  manganese  purple.  The  forms  of 
the  ware  are  small  and  delicate,  mostly  cups,  plates,  bowls,  and 
flower-vases  with  many  necks ;  these  were  made  from  the  17th  down 
to  the  19th  century.  (2)  Celadon,  very  like  that  made  in  China, 
but  greyer  in  tint,  is  conmion  earthenware  covered  with  a  green 
enamel.  It  was  much  valued  by  tlie  Persians  and  other  nations  on 
account  of  the  belief  that  a  cup  of  this  ware  betrayed  the  presence 
of  poison  either  by  breaking  or  by  changing  colour.  The  Persians 
call  it  "  jachmi "  (jade),  from  its  resemblance  to  that  valuable  stone. 
(3)  Pottery  of  coarse  clay,  modelled  with  blunt  reliefs,  and  the 
whole  covered  with  gi'een  enamel.  Another  variety  is  covered  with 
a  bright  blue  enamel,  chiefly  used  for  ewers,  hookah-bottles,  and 
tall  jars.  The  moulded  reliefs  are  either  flowers  or  human  figures, 
poor  both  in  design  and  execution.  This  kind  of  decoration  was 
(nueh  used  for  heavy  square  bottles  or  tall  jars  ;  it  has  little  or 
ho  trace  of  the  usual  Persian  tastefulness  of  design,  and  the  colour 
IS  harsh.  Most  of  this  ware  is  not  older  than  the  18th  and  19th 
Centuries.  It  is  very  largely  Chinese  in  style.  (4)  Pottery  painted 
tn  cobalt  blues  on  a  white  ground,  with  some  black,  used  chiefly 
for  outlines.  This  is  the  largest  class  of  Pefto-Chincse  pottery, 
and  of  it  were  made  large  dishes,  bowls,  bottles,  ewers,  and  almost 
all  forms  of  domestic  and  ornamental  vessels.  In  some  the  design 
is  purely  Persian,  in  others  almost  purely  Chinese,  while  in  others 
the  two  styles  are  mingled.  The  Chinese  grotesque  dragons  and 
mannered  treatment  of  fir  trees  and  even  human  figures  frequently 
occur,  but  the  more  graceful  designs  have  flowers  and  foliage  arranged 
with  that  great  decorative  skill  and  good  taste  for  which  the  Persians 
ac&^  remarkable.     Fig.  49  shows  a  dish  from  the  South  Kensipg- 


KBr  ^S^-'Persian  plate  painted  in  blues  only,     ^soiita  Kensington 
Museum.) 

ten  Musenm  in  which  there  is  little  or  no  Chinese  influence  in  the 
design  ;  it  is  painted  only  in  blues,  and  dates  from  the  17th  century. 
Some  few  pieces  have  figures  and  flowers  moulded  in  low  relief, 
merely  indicating  the  form,  and  then  painted  in  blues  and  black 
lines.  On  the  whole  this  class  of  pottery  is  very  decorative  in  effect ; 
the  glaze  is  thick,  and  the  blues  frequently  softened  by  having  run 
a.  little  in  the  firing  ;  the  difi'erent  shades  of  blue  are  very  varied  and 
tarmonious,  ranging  from  indigo  to  a  deep  ultramarine. 

Hispano-Moorish  Pottery,  and  Enamelled  Lustre  Wares 
produced  under  Oriental  Injliience  in  Sicily  and  the  Balearic 
Isles. — To  the  earlier  or  Arab  period  of  Oriental  rule  in 
south-west  Europe  no  existing  specimens  of  pottery  can  be 
attributed,  though  there  are  sufficient  records  to  show 
that  the  Arab  potters  of  Spain,  as  of  other  parts  of  the 
World,  were  highly  distinguished  for  their  skill  and  the 
artistic  beauty  of  their  wares.  The  existing  specimens  of 
Hispano-Moorish  pottery,  which  are  very  numerous,  date 
from  the  early  years  of  the  Moorish  occupation,  towards 
the  end  of  the  13th  century,  and  continue  down  to  the  17th 
century.  During  this  long  period  three  stages  were 
passed  through,  each  with  characteristics  of  its  own,  but 
passing  imperceptibly  one  into  another, — (1)  pottery  made 
by  the  Jloors  for  their  own   use;  (2)  pottery  made  by 


them  for  the  use  of  their  Christian  "conquerors ;  (3) 
pottery  made  by  Spanish  potters  who  imitated  the  techni- 
cal methods  of  the  Moors,  and  to  some  extent  their  designs 
and  style  of  decoration. 

Technical  Methods,  Colours,  dr. — The  technical  methods 
remained  the  same  throughout  all  three  periods.  The  pro- 
cess was  this.  After  the  pot  had  been  thrown  on  the  wheel, 
a  rather  coarse  red  or  yellowish  clay  being  used,  it  M'as 
dipped  into  a  cream-like  mixture  of  the  materials  for  its 
white  enamel  coat.  This,  like  the  white  enamel  of  Persiai. 
pottery,  was  simply  a  glass  rendered  white  and  opaque  by 
the  addition  of  oxide  of  tin.  When  fired,  the  vessel  was 
covered  with  a  smooth  coat  of  enamel,  slightly  creamy  in 
colour  and  very  pleasant  in  texture.  Only  two  colours 
were  used  for  decoration,  and  very  often  only  one.  The 
chief  of  these  was  a  lustre,  made  with  oxides  of  copper  or 
silver,  and  varying  in  tint  from  a  pale  lemon  yellow  to  a 
deep  coppery  red.  The  peculiar  application  of  lustre-colour 
has  been  described  above  under  the  head  of  "  lustred  ware  " 
(p.  620).  The  other  colour  is  a  deep  indigo  blue,  varying 
in  tint,  and  produced  sometimes  with  copper  and  sometimes 
with  cobalt  oxides.  The  blue  was  appKed  before  the  lustre, 
which  always  required  a  special  and  final  firing  under  differ- 
ent conditions  from  those  necessary  for  the  fusion  of  the 
white  enamel  and  the  blue  pigment.  The  chief  towns  in 
which  the  ware  was  manufactured  were  JIalaga,  Valencia, 
and  Manises  (in  the  province  of  Valencia) ;  the  celebrated 
amphora-shaped  vase  found  in  the  AUiambra  was  probably 
from  the  first  of  these  places.  Ibn  Batuta  (14th  century) 
describes  the  beauty  of  the  "gold -coloured  pottery"  of 
Malaga,  and  says  that  it  was  largely  exported  into  distant 
countries.  Marineo  (Cosas  tnemorables  de  Espana,  1517} 
and  Ercolano  {Historia  de  Valencia,  1610)  both  praise 
highly  the  "gilt  pottery"  made  at  Valencia  and  Manises. 
The  term  "gilt"  refers  to  the  metallic  golden  colour  of  the 
lustre.  Pieces  of  Valencia  ware  occur  with  the  accompany- 
ing mark  (No.  1).  The  usual  forms  of  this  pottery  chiefly 
consist  of  deep  dishes  and  bowls,  jars,  drug-pots, 
goblets,  and  large  bucket-shaped  vessels.  The  | 
early  ones,  such  as  the  Alhambra  amphora,  dating 
from  the  early  part  of  the  14th  century,  are  decor- 
ated with  delicate  and  graceful  arabesque  patterns, 
or  branches  of  a  plant  like  the  briony,  the  leaves 
of  which  are  often  alternately  in  blue  and  in  yellow  Potter's 
lustre.  A  few  have  Arabic  inscriptions.  The  de-  "!  ^ 
signs  are  most  masterly,  drawn  with  great  freedom 
of  touch,  and  very  decorative  iu  effect.  The  delicacy  and 
minuteness  of  the  painting  are  often  increased  by  white 
lines  on  the  yellow  lustre,  done  with  a  wooden  point  by 
wiping  out  the  lines  through  the  lustre  pigment  before 
it  was  fired  ;  this  could  be  done  easily,  because' the  lustre 
was  painted  on  the  hard  smooth  enamel  after  it  was  fired, 
not  on  an  absorbent  bisctxit  surface. 

The  pottery  of  the  earlier  period  has  mostly  a  lustre  of  pale 
almost  lemon  yellow  made  \vith  oxide  of  silver,  while  the  later  and 
coarser  varieties  have  a  deep-red  lustre  made  from  copper,  which 
is  rather  harsh  and  too  metallic  in  appearance.  The  decorations 
of  the  second  period  are  very  frequently  heraldic  in  character.  A 
favourite  design  for  large  dishes  is  a  lion  rampant  or  a  displayed 
eagle,  the  latter  used  as  the  emblem  of  St  John  the  Evangelist,  the 
patron  saint  of  Valencia  ;  others  have  shields  with  the  arms  of 
Castile  and  Aragon  or  of  royal  personages.  Blany  of  the  grandly- 
decorated  dishes  are  not  only  ornamented  on  ,the  front  but  also 
have  their  backs  elaborately  covered  with  rich  and  gi-aceful  ara- 
besques. Some  of  this  ware  is  moulded  in  slight  relief;  plates 
have  slightly  projecting  ribs;  and  goblet-shaped  cups  have  swelling 
gadroons,  a  form  copied  from,  metal  originals.  Fig.  50  shows  a 
fine  dish,  now  in  the  British"  Museum,  painted  in  copper  lustre 
and  blue  ;  though  Moorish  in  stvle,  it  has  a  Spanish  inscription, 
SENTA  CATALINA  GVARDA  NOS.  The  pottery  of  the 
third  class  is  very  inferior  in  all  respects 'to  the  work  of  the  Moorish 
potters.  Not  only  is  the  lustre  harsh  in  quality  but  the  designs 
are  very  coarse  and  often  rudely  executed,  though  still  for  the 
most  part  retaining  strong  traces  of  their  Oriental  origin.     Th9 


■y  chiefly 

9 


TEUTONIC.  GAULISH.  ETC.] 


POTTERY 


623 


mark  appended  (Ko.  2)  is  attributed  to  the  manufactoiy  of  Manises, 
which  was  very  productive  in  the  17th  century. 

In  addition  to  the  lustred  pottery  of  this  sort  made  in  Spain 
ware  of  similar  design  and  execution  was  produced  in 
the  Balearic  Islands.  Uany  pieces  e.\ist  bearing  the 
aims  of  Inca  in  llajorca.  The  beauty  of  Balearic  pot- 
tsry  is  mentioned  by  Giovanni  da  Uzzano,  who  wrote  a  I' 
treatise  on  trade  and  navigation  in  li4'J.  It  was  also 
alluded  to  by  J.  C.  Scaliger  [ExercUalioncs,  .xcii.)  in  K.O^ 
the  16tli  century.  This  pottery  was  largely  imported  IXa^  j 
into  Italy,  where  it  no  doubt  influenced  the  design  of  §  T  | 
some  of  the  so-called  "majolica,"  though  it  can  hardly  p^tj^^.g 
have  originated  its  manufactui-e,  as  h.is  so  often  been  n,^]^ 
asserted.  jj^   o 

Another  class  of  pottery  has  been  attributed  to  the 
Moslem  conquerors  of  Sicily,  though  without  much  distinct  evi- 
dence.    It  is  very  sinrilar  to  the  Hispano-JIoorish  ware,  e.\cept  that 
the  lustre  is  painted  over  a  ground  of  blue  not  white  enamel.     Some 


jFlO.  50. — Hispano-Moorish  plate,  painted  in  blue  ana  copper  lustre. 

other  pottery,  with  paintings  in  blue  with  black  outlines,  on  a 
Jfhite  silicious  slip,  and  covered  by  a  thick  vitreous  glaze,  may 
jlie  the  work  of  Siculo-JIoorish  potters.  The  designs  are  very  bold 
and  effective,  often  with  inscriptions  in  large  Arabic  characters,  or 
grotcsfiue  horses  and  other  animals,  boldly  drawn.  The  attribu- 
tion of  Moslem  pottery  to  special  localities  is  always  diflicult  and 
uncertain,  owing  to  the  great  similarity  in  design  and  in  methods 
of  execution  that  is  always  common  to  Moslem  races  wherever  they 
may  have  chanced  ta  settle. 

The  Kensington  Museum  and  the  Hotel  Cluny  have  the  best 
toUections  of  Persian  and  Hispano-Moorish  wares.  The  British 
Museum,  the  Louvre,  and  the  Archieological  Museum  of  Madrid 
have  many  very  choice  specimens.  Others  are  scattered  through 
the  various  museums  of  Europe. 

In  other  parts  of  the  world,  especially  among  the  Moslem  people 
l«in  ,  of  India,  Persia,  and  northern  Africa,  very  graceful  pottery  is  now 
trici.  made,  especially  tlie  plain  biscuit  varieties,  in  accordance  witli 
^.traditional  forms  and  methods.  The  common  pottery  of  Egypt  is 
very  beautiful  in  shape  and  often  pleasant  in  colour  and  te.tture  ; 
at  several  places  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile  a  fine  red  ware,  very  like 
the  Roman  "  Sainian,"  is  still  largely  manufactured,  and  the  water- 
jars  made  of  the  common  brown  clay  are  generally  fashioned  in 
shapes  of  almost  Hellenic  beauty,  which  seem  to  have  been  con- 
tinually used  since  the  time  of  the  Ptolemies. 

LitrraUirt. — For  the  subject  oT  the  preceding  section  the  reader  may  consult 
Clmnlin,  Voyages  en  Perse,  c.  1G50  (printed  in  ISll);  Rocliecliouart,  .S'oiiroiirs 
il'iin  Voyafie  <ii  Perse,  1867;  Henderson,  Colleclton  of  Pollery.  ic,  I60s ; 
Fortnum,  .SoiilA  Kensinglon  Museum  Ciilaloguc  of  Pollery,  1S73;  Davlllier.  L'S 
Faiencts  Hispano-Moresques,  1801 ;  and  many  works  ou  the  ceneral  history 
of  pottery. 

Sectiox  IX. — Teutonic,  SAXo:^f,  and  Gaulish. 

Great  quantities  of  sepulchral  urns  have  been  found 
dating  from  the  departure  of  the  Romans  from  Britain- 
to  the  10th  century,  but  almost  no  specimens  exist  of  the 
domestic  pottery  of  this  period.  The,  shapes,  the  char- 
Uiter  of  the  clay,  and  the  ornamental  patterns  on  the 


cinerary  urns  are  very  much  the  same  whether  they  are 
found  in  Germany,  Scandinavia,  Britain,  or  France :  they 
mostly  show  traces  of  Koman  influence ;  some  are  even 
coarsely-e.\ecuted  copies  of  red  Sainian  ware,  and  are  skil- 
fully wheel-made  and  well  fired.  Others  are  very  rude,' 
hand -made,  and  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from  the 
pottery  of  the  early  iron  age.  In  the  main,  however,  the 
urns  are  much  neater,  more  glos.sy,  and  more  elaborately 
ornamented  than  the  prehistoric  pottery.  They  are  made 
of  hard  well-burned  clay,  generally  grej',  brown,  or  blackish 
in  colour.  The  decoration  is  often  very  elaborate,  with 
incised  lines,  some  arranged  in  wavy  bands,  others  in  wheel- 
made  rings.  The  most  characteristic  ornaments  are  simple 
geometrical  patterns,  stars,  crosses,  the  svastika,  and  others, 
impressed  in  the  soft  clay  from  wooden  stamps  (see  fig.  51). 


Fia.  51. — SaxoQ  ciueraiy  urns ;  the  stamped  patterns  are 
shown  full  size. 

Many  "urns  have  a  ring  of  bosses  pressed  out  from 'the 
inside  by  the  potter's  thumb,  and  some  few  liave  bands  or 
stripes  in  coarse  ochre  colours  or  white.  The  surface  of 
the  urns  is  frequently  glossy,  partly  from  the  hard  silicious 
quality  of  the"  clay,  but  often  because  it  has  been  mechani- 
cally polished.  A  black  shining  surface  was  sometimes 
given  with  graphite  (plumbago),  as  was  the  case  with  some 
of  the  Koman  black  pottery.  A  lump  of  graphite  was 
found  with  blackened  urns  in  a  tomb  at  HOgelberg.' 

Medixval  Pottery  of  Emjlatid  and  France,  11th  to  15th  English 
Century. — Though  great  quantities  of  pottery  for  domestic  """^ 
use  were  made  during  this  period  it  was  extremely  fragile,  nj^jj^jai 
and,  being  of  very  coarse  ware,  without  artistic  beauty,  few  ^arc 
specimens  have  been  preserved  to  our  times.     It  consisted 
mostly  of  tall  jugs,  globular  pitchers,  bowls,  dishes,  and 
drinking-cups,  all  of  which  were  made  for  some  centuries 
with  but  little  variation  in  shape  or  quality.      Fig.  52 
shqws  a  selection 
of  common  forms,' 
usually    made    of 
coarse  red  or  yel- 
low clay,  often  < 
ered    with 
slip,    and     partly 
glazed  with  a  green 
or  yellow  vitreous 
glaze,        rendered 
more  fusible  by  the 

presence  of  a  large  p,g_  52. -Common  lorms  of  mediaeval  pottery; 
proportionof  o.xide  the  upper  part  of  the  slender  jug  is  covered 
of  lead.  Somcliavo  with  a  green  vitreous  lead  glaze;  the  othec 
coarse  painted  ''  «nglazed  with  stripes  of  red  ochre, 
stripes  in  coloured  cchrcs ;  others  have  heraldic  badges  ci' 
fanciful  ornaments,  rudely  modelled,  and  fastened  to  the 
body  of  the  pot ;  and  some  grotesque  jugs  arc  formed  ii: 

>  Sec  Du  Cleuzioii,  Lit  pt^lerie  Oauloise,  1872,  and  Cocliet,  ArMo- 
lo'jie  ciramijiie,  I860. 


I 


624 


POTTERY 


[ITALIAW 


the  shape  of  animals  or  knights  on  horseback.  The  most 
graceful  in  shape  were  pilgrim-bottles,  flattened  globes, 
very  like  one  of  the  forms  common  in  Egyptian  and 
Assyrian  pottery.  The  common  domestic  pottery  of  the 
Middle  Ages  'was  made  and  used  in  enormous  quantities'. 
Though  it  was  wonderfully  cheap,  yet  the  ease  with  which 
it  was  broken  made  it  a  serious  and  often-recurring  item 
in  the  household  expenses  of  rich  or  royal  personages. 
The  list  of  e.xpenses  of  a  feast  on  the  anniversary  of 
Queen  Eleanor's  death  (wife  of  Edward  I.)  contains  this 
item,  "pro  M'*  et  D  discis,  tot  platellis,  tot  salseriis,  et 
CCCC  chiphis  xliis,"— that  is,  42&  for  1500  dishes,  1500 
plates,  1500  saucers,  and  400  cups.  The  42s.  are  perhaps 
equal  to  £25  of  modern  money,  a  small  sum  for  4900 
pieces  of  pottery. 

Section  X. — Medieval  and  Modern  Italian. 

Sgraffiato  Ware  was  made  by  covering  a  vessel  of  red 
clay  with  a  coating  of  white  slip  made  of  some  natural 
white  earth  like  pipeclay.  This  was  done  by  dipping 
or  by  pouring  the  fluid  slip  over  the  red  vessel.  When  the 
white  coating  was  dry  the  design  was  formed  by  cutting 
it  away  so  as  to  expose  the  red  body  underneath.  In  this 
way  bowls,  dishes,  ewers,  and  other  vessels  were  decorated 
with  human  figures,  or  with  graceful  scroll -patterns  of 
foliage  and  flowers.  The  patterns  were  then  picked  out 
jwith  bright  colours, — yellow,  blue,  and  gi-een  ;  and  finally 
the  whole  was  glazed  with  a  very  fusible  lead  glaze  (see 
fig.'  53).     This  is  probably  a  very  early  method  for  the 


Fig.  53. — Italian  sgraffiato  plate,  16th  century.     (South  Kensington 
Museum.  \_ 

decoration  of  pottery  in  various  parts  of  Italy ;  but  only 
few  existing  specimens  are  older  than  the  second  half  of 
the  15th  century.  Some  of  the  earlier  specimens  have 
very  graceful  designs,  of  almost  Gothic  style,  executed 
with  great  spirit,  and  very  decorative  in  effect.  SgraflSato 
ware  continued  to  be  made  during  the  16th  and  17th 
centuries,  especially  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Pa  via ;  it 
was,  however,  but  little  esteemed  owing  to  the  greater 
popularity  of  painted  majolica.  Kude  imitations  of  it  were 
fiiade  in  ©ermany  and  France. 

Italian  Majolica} — The  history  of  this  ware  in  its  early 
stages  of  development  is  almost  unknown.  According  to 
popular  tradition,  it  was  first  copied  from  certain  plates 
brought  by  the  Pisans  from  the  island  of  Majolica  (or 
Majorca)  in  the  12th  century.  This  is  extremely  improb- 
able ;  the  fabrication  and  use  of  a  white  tin  enamel  were 

'  In  this  article  tlie  word  "  majolica  "  is  used  in  its  modem  sense  to 
'Delude  non-lustred  pottery. 


known  to  Italian  potters  long  before  they  found  out  the 
secret  of  lustre  colours,  a  discovery  not  made  in  Italy  till 
the  15th  century.  We  know  from  various  sources  that 
lustred  pottery  from  the  Balearic  Islands  was  largely  im- 
ported into  Italy  durmg  the  15th  century  (see  above),  and 
it  is  quite  possible  that  the  sight  of  the  brilliant  lustre  on 
the  imported  Moorish  ware  set  the  potters  of  Italy  to  work, 
and  led  them  to  find  out,  either  loy  experiments  or  from 
some  traveller  who  had  visited  the  Balearic  kilns,  how  to 
compose  and  fire  the  metallic  salts  required  to  produce  the 
lustre ;  but  this  occurred  long  after  the  Pisan  victory  at 
Jlajorca.  It  was  to  the  lustred  ware  only  that  the  Italians 
gave  the  name  of  "majolica,"  though  now  it  is  commonly 
applied  to  all  the  Italian  enamelled  pottery  of  the  15th 
and  16  th  centuries.  It  was  the  lustre  only  that  was  a 
fresh  discovery  in  the  15th  century;  enamelled  ware  had 
been  made  by  Italian  potters  many  years  before.  This 
is  an  important  point,  and  it  should  be  noted  that  the 
accounts  given  by  Vasari  and  several  other  old  Italian 
writers  on  the  subject  are  quite  misleading.  "Mezza- 
majolica"  is  a  word  of  rather  uncertain  meaning  which  * 
occurs  in  early  writers  on  italian  pottery.  It  has  been 
used  to  mean  pottery  covered  not  with  a  tin  enamel  but 
with  a  white  slip,  made  of  a  white  clay  like  that  found 
at  Vicenza ;  and  in  many  museums  the  earlier  and  ruder 
sorts  of  majolica  have  been  arranged  under  this  name. 
The  fact,  however,  seems  to  be  that  even  the  rudest  and 
earliest  specimens  of  majolica  in  the  various  museums  of 
Europe  are  covered  with  a  true  tin  enamel.  Curious 
specimens  of  pottery,  covered  with  a  rude  enamel  made 
of  the  white  kaoUnic  "terra  di  Vicenza"  mixed  with  an 
alkaline  silicate,  have  recently  been  found  in  tombs  of  the 
11th  and  12  th  centuries  in  various  parts  of  Italy.  These 
earliest  attempts  at  what  we  now  call  majclica  are  coarsely 
decorated  in  green,  yellow,  and  blue,  on  a  white  ground, 
with  patterns  of  semi-Oriental  style.  The  pigments  used 
appear  in  some  cases  to  be  simply  coloured  glass  reduced 
to  powder, — a  kind  of  smalto.  This  style  of  pottery  is 
probably  the  mezza-majolica  of  Vasari.  It  is  evidently 
the  first  step  towards  the  production  of  the  true  majolica, 
in  which  the  kaolinic  clay  of  Vicenza  is  replaced  by  a  tin 
enamel.  This  discovery  is  of  great  importance  as  regards 
the  early  'history  of  Italian  pottery.  The  few  pieces  yet 
known  are  mostly  preserved  in  the  office  of  public  instruc- 
tion in  Kome,  and  are  not  yet  exhibited  in  any  museum. 

Very  few  early  examples  of  developed  Italian  majolica 
are  now  known.  One  of  the  most  important  is  a  small  jug, 
5  inches  high,  in  the  Sfevres  Museum,  which  is  made  of 
reddish  clay  covered  with  a  white  tin  enamel,  and  painted 
with  a  shield  and  simple  ornaments  Ln  manganese  purple 
and  bright  green  (oxide  of  copper).  It  is  supposed  to 
have  been  made  at  Eirblni,  and  dates  from  the  13th  or 
14th  century  (see  fig.  54).  It  was  not,  hpwever,  till  the 
second  half  of  the  15th  century  that  Italian  ^ 
majolica  began  to  be  largely  produced,  i 
Owing  to  the  great  difficulty  of  determining 
the  special  towns  where  the  earlier  varie-  ■■' 
ties  were  made,  it  will  be  convenient  to  •?  I 
treat  this  ware  according  to  style  and  date 
rather  than  under  the  heads  of  the  different 
potteries.  During  the  earlier  and  more  im-  p^  ,<  t-  » 
portant  period  the  production  of  majolica  ii^i^~J^"n- 
was  confined  to  a  very  small  part  of  Italy,  bably  the  earliest 
Bologna  on  the  north,  Perugia  on  the  south,  known  specimen 
Siena  on  the  west,  and  the  Adriatic  on  the  '?f  Italian  m^ol- 
east  roughly  indicate  the  limits  within  g^^^  j.  "" 
which  the  chief  majolica-producing  towns 
were  situated ;  these  were  Forli,  Faenza,  Rimini,  Calag- 
giolo,  Pesaro,Urbino,  Castel  Durante,  Gubbio,  Perugia,  and 
Siena.     Towards  the  middle  of.  the  16  th  century  ^distant 


MAJOLICA.] 


POTTERY 


625 


cities  such'  as  Venice  also  produced  fine  majolica,  but  of 
the  later  style. 

Materials. — Fortunately  ample  information  on  this  sub- 
ject has  been  pres»ved  to  us.  A  potter  of  Castel  Durante 
occupied  himself  for  some  time  in  ^vriting  a  full  description 
of  the  materials,  the  methods  of  using  them,  the  "throwing- 
■wheels,"  the  kilns,  and  all  the  varied  processes  of  his  craft. 
His  original  MS.,  copiously  illustrated  with  clever  pen- 
sketches,  •  is  in  the  library  of  the  South  Kensington 
Museum,  and  the  work  was  printed,  with  facsimiles  of  the 
dra^vings,  at  Pesaro  in  1879.  It  is  called  I  tre  libri  dell' 
arte  del  Vasajo  by  Cipriano  Piccolpasso  of  Castel  Durante, 
and  is  dated  1548. 

Piccolpasso  himself  did  not  produce  lustred  ware,  but  he 
describes  the  process  and  the  special  kiln  it  required  ;  his  descrip- 
tion of  materials  and  methods,  though  not  'WTitten  till  1548,  applies 
IB  all  important  points  to  the  majolica  of  the  second  half  of  the 
previous  century.  Various  receipts  differing  in  the  proportions  of 
their  ingredients  are  given  ;  the  following  examples  are  selected  as 
typical  instances. 

1.  The  clay  body,  "terra,"  was  to  be, .if  possible,  clay  deposited 
cfy  a  river.  It  was  carefully  prepared  _for  use  by  being  beaten, 
ground  in  a  mill,  and  passed  through  a  sieve,  so  as  to  bring  it  into 
a  smooth  homogeneous  plastic  state,  fit  for  being  moulded  on  the 
wheel.  It  was  all  the  better  for  being  dug  out  a  long  tiipe  before 
it  was  used. 

2. .  The  white  enamel,  ' '  bianco,"  was  composed  of  thirty  parts  of 
"marzacbtto  "  to  twelve  of  oxide  of  tin.  The  marzacotto  was  simple 
powdered  glass,  a  pure  silicate  of  potash,  made  from  clean  sand  and 
the  alkaline  tartar  deposited  by  wine.  According  to  Piccolpasso 
the  decorations  were  painted  on  the_  enamel  ground  sometimes 
be/ore  it  was  fired,  and  sometimes  after.  This  was  an  important 
difference.  ,  The  enamel  before  firing  formed  a  slightly  granular 
and  very  absorbent  ground,  like  clay  in  the  biscuit  state ;  and 
the  paintings  on  it  had  to  be  bold  and  broadly  decorative,  not 
delicate  and  miniafurc-like  ;  the  touch  of  the  brush  had  to  be  rapid 
and  certain  ;  little  or  no  alteration  could  be  made,  as  the  unfired 
enamel  sucked  the  pigment  out  of  the  brush  and  absorbed  it  below 
the  surface.  The  earlier  and  more  boldly  decorative  sorts  of 
majolica  appear  to  have  been  painted  in  tliis  way  on  the  unfired 
enamel,  and  owe  much  of  their- richness  of  effect  to  the  fact  that 
the  different  pigments  have  sunk  below  the  surface  of  the  ground. 
This  process  may  be  compared"  to  that  of  painting  in  true  fresco, 
while  the  painting  on  the  fired  enamel  resembles  the  more  deliber- 
ate method  of  the  painter  in  oil.  After  passing  through  the  kiln 
the  whole  character  of  the  enamel  was  completely  changed ;  it 
formed  then  a  hard,  smooth,  non-absorbent,  vitreous  surface,  on 
Which  the  finest  lines  and  the  most  minute  paintings  could  bo 
executed,  and  any  part  of  it  could  easily  bo  altered  or  wiped  out. 
It  was  in  great  part  owing  to  this  change  of  method  that  the  later 
majolica  paintings  became  more  pictorial  and  more  minute  in  exe- 
cution, the  almost  inevitable  result  of  painting  on  a  hard  glassy 
ground.  In  some  instances  it  is  not  easy  to  decide  which  method 
of  painting  has  been  adopted,  though  in  most  cases  there  is  a  dis- 
tinct difference  in  the  quality  of  the  lines.  One  peculiarity  is  a 
mire  test :  when  delicate  patterns  in  white  have  been  formed  by 
covering  the  enamel  ground  with  some  colour,  and  then  wiping  out 
Iho  p?,ttem-  by  using  a  pointed  piece  of  stick  or  ivory  on  the  soft 
pigment,  in  that  case  the  enamel  certainly  was  fired  first.  The 
colour  could  not  bo  wiped  cleanly  out  from  an  absorbent  biscuit 
mrface.  Much  of  the  uelicato  beauty  of  the  Persian  lustre  paint- 
togs,  especially  those  on  wall-tiles,  is  due  to  this  method  of  getting 
minute  patterns  in  white.  It  was  also  practised,  though  in  a  much 
more  limited  way,  on  some  of  the  Italian  majolica.  Tiie  difference 
of  handling  between  "  under-glaze  "  and  "over-glaze  "  painting  cor- 
responds exactly  to  that  of  the  unfired  and  fired  enamel;  but  in 
the  latter  case  another  important  difference  is  introduced  :  under- 
glaze  pigments  require  much  greater  heat  than  those  over  the  glaze 
and  are  consequently  very  limited  in  range  of  colour,  while  in 
majolica  painting  the  same  pigments  wore  used  in  either  case. 

3.  The  glaze,  "copcrta,"  an  ordinary  glas.s,  made  .more  fusible 
by  the  presence  of  lead,  consisted  of  oxide  of  lead  17  parts,  silica 
(sand)  20,  alkali  12,  and  common  salt  8  parts. 

4.  Pigments,  "colori,"all  owe  their  colour  to  a  metallic  oxide, 
yellow  being  derived  from  oxides  of  iron  and  antimony,  green 
from  oxides  of  copper  and  antimony,  blue  from  oxide  of  copper, 
red  from  Spanish  oxide  of  iron,  Armenian  bole,  and  red  ochre,  and 
black  from  black  oxide  of  copper  and  manganese.  Most  of  tlicse 
had  a  certain  proportion  of  oxide  of  lead,  not  to  affect  the  colour 
but  to  make  them  more  fusible.  Other  tints  wore  produced  by 
combinations  of  these  pigments,  and  different  gradations  of  tone 
w«ro  obtained  by  adding  more  or  less  of  the  ingredients  of  the 
white  enamel. 

MtllunU  qf  Manvfaciure. — Piccolpasso  gives  sketches  of  the 

19—23 


potters  at  work  throwing  vessels  on  the  wheel.  The  wheel  itself 
("torno")  consists  of  a  vertical  axle,  with  a  large  lower  woodea 
disk  for  (he  potter's  fo6t  to  keep  it  revolving,  and  a  smaller  upper 
disk  on  which  the  clay  was  moulded  by  the  potter's  hands,— an 
apparatus  which  differs  in  no  respect  from  that  used  in  Kgypt 
under  the  Ptolemies,  and  is  still  employed  in  the  great  porcelain 
factory  at  Sevres.  The  potter  to  the  right  of  fig.  55  is  working 
with  a  wheel  like  that  drawn  by  Piccolpasso.  The  earlier  kind  ot 
majolica  is  almost  wholly  wheel-moulded,  but  during  the  16th 
century  a  good  many  plates  and  vases  were  formed  after  shapes 
copied  from  silver-worlc,  with  sunk  bosses  or  gadroons.  These 
were  formed  by  pressing  thin  disks  of  soft  clay  into  moulds  made 
of  plaster  ("  gesso  "),  bone-ash,  and  pounded  marble.  An  elaborate 
description  of  the  method  is  given  in  Piccolpasso's  MS.  Another 
practice  also  had  arisen  in  his  time,  that  of  finishing  the  pottery 
on  a  joiner's  lathe  when  it  was  dry,  but  before  it  was  enamelled  or 
fired, — a  practice  unfortunately  common  at  the  present  day,  which 
makes  the  form  of  the  vessel  more  mathematically  correct,  but 
gi-eatly  injures  the  freedom  and  spirit  of  touch  given  by  the  potter's 
hand.  After  the  pottery  was  brought  to  the  required  shape  it  was 
dipped  into  a  bath  of  the  materials  for  the  white  enamel,  finely 
ground  and  mixed  with  water  ;  and,  after  being  allowed  to  dry,  it 
was  fired  for  the  first  time.  The  painted  decoration  was  applied  on 
the  white  enamel  with  brushes  of  various  sizfes,  and  the  vessel  was 
then  dipped  into  a  second  bath  of  the  glaze  materials,  finely  ground 
and  mixed  with  water  like  the  enamel.  It  was  afterwards  fired  a 
second' time.  If  it  had  lustre  colours,  they  were  put  on  over  the 
glaze,  and  a  third  firing  in  a  different  kiln  was  necessary  for  the 
reasons  explained  above  under  the  head  of  "Persian  pottery." 
The  application  of  the  transparent  glaze  over  the  enamel  was  not 
absolutely  necessary,  and  was  occasionally  omitted,  but  the  finer 
sorts  ,of  majolica  usually  had  .it  for  the  sake  of  the  increased 
brilliance  which  it  gave  to  the  non-lustre  colours.  The  kiln  for  the 
ordinary  colours  and  first  two  firings,  as  drawn  by  Picqolpasso,  is 
exactly  the  same  in  principle  as  that  used  by  the  potters  of  ancient 
Greece  and  Eome, — that  is,  an  arched  chamber  in  two  stories,  with 
a  perforated  floor  between — the  lower  compartment  for  the  fire,  the 
upper  for  the  pottery.  A  sketch  is  also  given  in  Piccolpasso's  MS. 
of  the  lustre-Iain,  in  which  the  pottery  is  enveloped  in  flames  and 
heated  smoke.     Fig.  65,  from  a  VeHctian  woodcut  of  the  middle  of 


Fio.  65. — Two  forms  of  Italian  potter's  wheels,  about  1540. 

the  16th  century,  shows  majolica 'potters  at  work  throwing  pots 
on  the  wheel.  Two  different  wheels  are  being  used  ;  the  man  on 
tlio  left  keeps  his  going  by  giving  it  a  succession  of  spins  with 
one  hand,  the  other  works  his  wheel  by  the  help  of  a  lower  foot- 
turned  disk.  To  the  extreme  left  a  small  kiln  is  shown  ;  the  lower 
arched  opening  is  for  the  insertion  of  the  fuel,  the'  upper  for  the 
pottery  ;  the  holes  at  the  top  are  for  the  escape  of  the  heated  air 
and  smoke. 

Styles  of  Decoration. — In  gemeral  character  the  painted 
decoration  on  the  majolica  of  the  latter  part  of  the  15th 
and  beginning  of  the  16th  century  is  very  different  from 
that  of  a  few  years  later.  The  first  retains  much  of 
mediaeval  purity  and  simplicity  of  design,  while  the  later 
sort  follows  tho  richer  and  more  florid  style  brought  into 
fa.shion  by  the  rapidly-approaching  decadence  of  art. 
The  principal  variety  of  the  early  class  is  the  ware  painted 
in  blues  with  a  yellow  lustre,  manufactured  chiefly  in  the 
workshops  of  Pesaro,  Gubbio,  and  Deruta.  With  these  two 
simple  colours  cflects  of  tho  greatest  decorative  beauty 
were  produced,  far  more  truly  artistic  and  suited  to  their 
special  purpose  than  tho  elaborate  pictures  in  many  colours 
painted  some  years  later  in  the  workshops  of  Urbino  and 
Durante.  In  tho  firm  precision  of  tho  drawing  and 
extreme  skilfulness  of  touch  in  the  bluo  outlines  one  is 
reminded  of  the  paintings  on  Greek  vases  of  tho  best 
period.     Some  of   the   largo   plates  of   thi.s  ware   have 


626 


POTTERY 


[ITALIAM 


figure-subjects,  usually  sacred  scenes.  A  very  beautiful 
one  in  the  Louvre  has  a  Madonna  and  Cluld  enthroned, 
drawn  and  composed  with  the  simple  grace  of  Kaphael's 
early  manner.  Most,  however,  have  portraits  of  ladies 
drawn  in  profile,  the  background  filled  up  with  simple 
flowers,  and  an  inscribed  scroll,  often  with  the  lady's 
name  and  the  word  "  bella  "  or  "  diva,"  or  with  epigram- 
matic mottoes  (see  fig.  56).     The  design  is  first  drawn  in 


Flo.  66. — Early  majolica  plate,  iu  blue  and  yellow  lustre  only,  made 
at  Pesaro  or  Gubbio,  c.  1500.  The  motto  ou  the  scroll  is  "Chi 
bene  guida  sua  barcha  s'entra  in  porto "  (He  who  steers  well  his 
ship  will  enter  the  harbour).     (Louvre. ) 

blue  outline,  with  a  little  delicate  blue  shading  over  the 
white  flesh  and  a  blue  edging  on  the  ground  round  the 
outline.  The  dress  and  the  ornaments  on  the  ground  and 
rim  of  thfe  plate  were  finally  filled  in  with  the  yellow 
lustre,  which  was  sufficiently  transparent  to  let  all  the 
blue  line  details  over  which  it  was  painted  show  through. 
Another  rarer  sort  of  early  majolica,  similar  in  style,  has 
a  deep  ruby  lustre,  employed  instead  of  the  golden 
yellow.      Fig.  57  shows  a  fine  example  of  it,  probably 


Fto,  57. — Gnbbio  plate,  with  portrait  in  ruby  lustre  and  blue  outline. 
(South  Kensington  Museum.) 

produced  at  Gubbio,  which  had  almost  a  monopoly  of  this 
apecial  lustre,  afterwards  used  so  largely  in  the  workshop 


Fio.  58. — Early  Faenza  plate,  with  peacock- 
festher  design,  in  bluSs,  yellow,  and  orange- 
red.     (South  Kensington  Museum.) 


of  Maestro  Giorgio.  Other  early  varieties  of  majoUca, 
painted  in  a  simple  and  unpictorial  way,  have  no  lustre 
colours,  but  are  remarkable  for  their  brilliant  and  rather 
harsh  green,  with  a  good  deal  of  lianganese  purple. 
Plates  of  this  sort  with  female  portraits,  not  generally 
in  profile,  and  heraldic  animals,  frequently  occur,  as  well 
as  slabs  or  plaques  intended  for  wall-decoration.  Faenza 
and  Forli  appear  to  have  been  the  chief  places  for  their 
production.  The 
Cluny  Museum  is 
very  rich  in  speci- 
mens. Cafaggiolo 
and  Faenza  also 
produced,  during 
the  early  period, 
some  very  beautiful 
and  highly-decora- 
tive plates,  painted 
without  lustre,  but 
with  a  variety  of 
colours  arranged 
with  a  most  com- 
plete harmony  of 
tint.  Some  have 
patterns  ingeni- 
ously devised  after 
a  motive,.suggested 
by  peacocks'  feathers  (see  fig.  58).  The  chief  colours  arb 
yellow  and  orange,  various  blues,  and  occasionally  a  rich 
deep  red.  Amatory  plates  ("  amatorii "),  with  ladies' 
portraits,  are  also  painted  in  this  way,  with  more  elabora- 
tion and  detail  but  not  greater  decorative  beauty  than  the 
simple  blue  and  yellow  lustre  of  the  early  Pesaro  and 
Gubbio  ware.  Specimens  of  the  later  Cafaggiolo  ware 
bear  the  accompanying  mark  (see  No.  3).  Forli  was  one 
of  the  earliest  towns  to  produce  a  fine  class  of 
majolica;  specimens  exist  dated  1470,  of  very 
noble  design  and  firm  outline.  A  .fine  set  of 
plates  and  vases  was  made  there  (c.  1480-85) 
for  Matthias  Corvinus,  king  of  Hungary.  The 
flesh  of  the  figures,  like  that  on  the  early  Pesaro 
and  Derata  ware,  is  white,  delicately  shaded  with 
blue  ;  but  the  early  Forli  potters  used  a  greater 
variety,  of  colours  than  were  employed  at  most 
other  towns  :,  in  addition  to  the  blues  they  had  yellow, 
bright  green,  and  purple-brown,  all  non-lustre  coIourSw 
To  Forli  or  Faenza  must  be  attributed  a  very  curious 
and  rudely  painted  plate  in  the  Sevres  Museum,  decorated 
with  a  youth  on  horseback  in  blue  outline;  it  has  a 
date  which  appears  to  read  1448;  if  so,  this  is  the  ear- 
liest dated  -specimen  of  majolica.  The  enamel  is  coarse 
and  crackled  all  over,  but  the  method  of  execution  is  that 
of  true  majolica. 

Majolica  of  Maestro  Giorgio  Andreoli  of  Gullio. — The 
workshop  of  this  artist,  most  of  whose  dated  works  fall 
between  1517  and  1537,  was  one  of  the  largest  and  most 
important  of  his  time  Its  productions,  as  well  as  those 
with  the  signature  "  M?  G".  da  Ugubio,"  or  as  in  No.  4,  are 


jA-h^^t*®* 


No.  i. 


No.  5. 
Potters'  marks. 


No.  6. 


very  unequal  in  merit,  and  even  the  best  of  tfiem  are 
very  inferior  as  specimens  of  true  decorative  art  compared 
with  the  majolica  of  the  earlier  classes  described  abovek 


HAJOUCA.j 


J?  O  T  T  S3  R  Y 


627 


The  mark  used  most  frequei:??y  by  Giorgio  is  shown  in 
No.  5.  A  somewhat  similar  monogram  was  used  by  an 
earlier  potter;  an  example  dated  1491  is  shown  in  No.  6. 
Though  not  the  inventor  of  the  ruby  lustre,  which  was 
then  so  much  admired,  Giorgio  appears  to  have-been  the 
chief  potter  of  his  time  who  used  it.  The  fact  is,  the  pro- 
cess was  a  difficult  one  and  required  special  skill,  not  in 
the  preparation  of  the  oxide  of  copper  pigment  but  in  the 
firing,  so  as  to  expose  the  colour  to  actual  contact  with  the 
reducing  flame  without  the  pottery  itself  being  shattered 
to  pieces.  Even  with  the  best  skill  of  the  Gubbio  potters  a 
large  proportion  of  the  lustred  ware  perished  in  the  kiln. 
The  majolica  potters  of  many  other  towns  wefe  in  the  habit 
of  sending  their  otherwise  finished  wares  to  Gubbio  for 
the  sake  of  having  the  additional  brilliance  derived  from 
lustre  colours.  In  some  cases  a  space  for  the  lustres  was 
left  white  ;  in  others  rude  dabs  and  splaishes  of  ruby  and 
yellow  lustre  were  applied  over  completely  finished  paint- 
ings of  landscapes  or  figure-subjects,  often  in  a  very  coarse 
and  tasteless  fashion.  Some  delicately  painted  plates  are 
quite  spoiled  and  vulgarized  by  the  heavy  touches  of  lustre 
that  have  been  put  over  them.  The  ruby  is  in  fact  rather 
strong  and  hard  in  tone,  and  needed  very  careful  applica- 
tion to  make  it  harmonize  with  the  quieter  non-lustre 
colours ;  it  is  far  more  salient  and  metallic-looking  than 
the  fine  yellow  lustre  of  the  early  ware.  In  addition  to 
the  ruby,  "  gold  "  and  "  silver  "  lustres  were  used  at  Gubbio. 
The  latter  are  a  deep  and  a  pale  yellow.  The  pale  silver 
lustre  was  made  from  oxide  of  silver ;  the  gold  was  a  mix- 
ture of  copper  and  silver  oxides.  A  great  deal  of  the  pro- 
duce of  Giorgio's  workshop  is  very  rude  and  of  no  artistic 
merit,  while  the  best  and  most  carefully  painted  wares 
usually  err,  in  accordance  with  the  rapidly  declining  taste 
of  his  time,  in  being  far  too  pictorial.  Copies  of  pictures 
crowded  with  figures,  arranged  without  regard  to  the  shape 
of  the  vessel  they  were  meant  to  decorate,  and  painted 
with  all  the  colours  of  the  potter's  palette,  were  most  highly 
esteemed.  Many  of  them  are  from  designs  by"  Raphael 
and  other  great  painters,  but  are  really  quite  unsuited  for 
ceramic  decoration.  Giorgio's  earlier  works  are,  on  the 
whole,  in  better  taste,  and  some  later  portrait  heads  are 
very  good.  Fig.  59  shows  a  fine  tazza  in  the  Louvre  signed 
at  the  back 
"exo.iGiorg.," 
which  is  both 
nobly  drawn 
and  harmoni- 
ous in  colour; 
itsdate  isabout 
1525.  The  fav- 
ourite subjects 
on  the  pictured 
("istoriata") 
majolica  of 
Gubbio  and 
elscwuere  are 
scenes  from 
Homan  mytho- 
logy, esoecially 
Ovid's  Mela- 
morphoses,  and 

stories  from  ^^°'  ^^' — G''^'^'°  tazza  by  Maestro  Giorgio,  with 
cIflq.iT)       )■  lady's  portrait  and  inscription  "Julia  bella." 

tory.  Unluckily  contemporary  history  is  rare;  the  British 
Museum  has  a  good  specimen,  a  plate  painted  with  the 
defeat  of  Francis  I.  at  the  battle  of  Tavia. 

It  was  at  Urbino  and  Castcl  Durante  that  the  produc-_ 
tion  of  elaborate  pictured  majolica  was  mostly  carried  on, 

'  For  ex  officina,  a  phiaso  borrowed  from  the  Roman  pottsrs'  stamps, 
see  p.  619  supra. 


especially  between  the  years  1530  and  1660,  under  the 
patronage  of  the  reigning  dukes  of  the  Delia  Rovere  faniiiy. 
Francesco  Xanto  Avelli,  Guido  Fontana,  and  Niccola  da 
Urbino  were  specially  celebrated  for  this  class  of  work, 
and  often  used  Marc  Antonio  Raimondi's  engravings  from 
Raphael's  designs  to  decorate  their  plates  and  vases.^  Many 
of  these  are  painted  with  great  delicacy  and  richness  of 
effect  in  spite  of  their  unsuitability  for  their  special  purpose 
and  the  comparative  poverty  of  the  potter's  palette,  which 
was,  of  course,  limited  to  colours  that  would  stand  the 
severe  heat  of  the  kiln.  The  pictured  wares  of  Urbino 
sometimes  have  the  Gubbio  lustre  colours,  but  the  best 
are  without  them.  Another  class  of  design  was  also  used 
at  Urbino  with  much  better  decorative  efiect.  It  con- 
sisted of  fanciful  and  graceful  arabesques  or  floral  scroll- 
work mingled  with  grotesque  figures  or  Cupids,  all  skil- 
fully arranged  to  emphasize  the  main  contours  of  the  platn 
or  vase.  Branches  of  the  oak  tree 
in  flowing  and  sUghtly  geometrical 
lines  are  a  frequent  motive  of  de- 
sign, chosen  in  compliment  to  the 
Delia  Rovere  dukes,  who  bore  an 
oak  on  their  coat  of  arms.  All 
these,  but  especially  the  pictured 
wares,  were  highly  paid  for,  and 
sometimes  were  valued  as  much  as 
silver  plate.  They  were  mostly  P°""'»  °'"'^-  ^°-  ''■ 
"piatti  di  pompa," — meant,  that  is,  to  hang  on  walls  or 
ornament  sideboards  rather  than  for  actual  use.  Some  of 
the  early  productions  of  one  of  the  Urbino  potteries  are 
marked  with  the  graceful  monogram  No.  7. 

In  a  short  sketuh  like  this  it  is  impossible  to  give  even  an  outline 
of  the  many  varieties  of  majolica  produced  in  such  profusion  during 
the  16th  century,  but  a  few  others  of  the  more  important  kinds  may 
be  mentioned.  The  Faenza  potteries  produced  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  the  later  varieties,  chiefly  plates  with  wide  flat  rims 
and  deep  centres,  called  "tondini,"  the  borders  decorated  with 
delicate  and  minute"  arabesques,  painted  in  several  tints  of  a  deep 
ultramarine  blue  of  wonderful  richness  and  decorative  eflect.  In 
the  centre  is  usually  a  coat  of  arms  or  (j  single  figure,  with  a 
brilliant  jewel-like  touch  of  orange  or  deep  red,  which  sets  off  to 
the  utmost  the  bhies  of  the  border  (see  fig.  60).  One  of  the  most 
remarkable  specimens  of  majolica  painting,  treated  with  the  deli- 
cate minuteness  of  an  illuminated  MS.,  is  on  a  plate  in  the  British 
Museum  from  the  faenza  workshops.  It  is  a  scene  of  the  death  ot 
the  Virgin,  sur- 
rounded by  the 
apostles,  copied 
withslightadap- 
tations  from  an 
engraving  by  the 
German  master 
Martin  Schon- 
gauer.  The 

Italian   ceramic 
painter  has 

sliL,'htlybutskil-  ; 
fully  altered  the  | 
composition  to 
fit  it  to  the  cir- 
cular form  of  the 
plate,  and  has 
also  given  a  more 
graceful  cast  to 
the  manner;  1 
Gorman  faces  of 
theonginal.  The 
elocution  is  won- 
derfully delicate  Fio.  60.— Faenza  plate  (tondino),  with  border  in  deep 
and  miniature-  ultramarine  blues,  and  central  coat  of  arms  in  rich 
like,  almost      orange  and  red.     (South  Kensington  Museum.) 

wholly  done   in 

difforcut  tinta  of  blue,  with  a  little  yellow  to  suggest  flesh  colour, 
and  high  lights  touched  in  with  puro  white  enamel,  the  maio 
enamel  ground  being  white  sliglitly  tinged  with  pink.  It  is  evi- 
dcntly  the  work  of  a  very  nble  artist,  ami  ia  a  little  picture  of  gem- 


•  A  namesake  and  relation  of  Raphael's  was  a  skilful  )i.iinter  of 
islorinii  pieces  ;  and  hence  has  orison  the  tradition  that  the  ffnai 
ttainter  occasionally  decorated  majolica  (see  Rafbael). 


628 


POTTERY 


[ITALIAN  MAJOLICA 


like  beauty,  though  in  no  way  specially  suited  to  Hie  ^-equirements 
of  ceramic  art,  for  which  a  bolder  and  less  realistic  style  of  treat- 
ment is  reallv.the   .  , 


14zg 


A 


No.  8. 

Potters'  marKs. 
Another  plate,   also 


No.  9. 


most  suitable. 
Some  'fine  early 
plates .of  Faenza 
make 'are  signed 
.with  No.  8  mark  ; 
a  common  later 
inark  is  the  mono-  ^^ 

gram  FA(enza)— see  No.  9.  _  Another  plate,  also  in  the  British 
lluseum,  has  a  painting  copied  from  a  design  by  Albert  Diirer,  the 
Scourging  of  Christ.  This  highly -laboured  and  minute  style  of 
painting  was  largely  practised  in  the  potteries  of  Siena,  which  pro- 
auced  plates  of  great'  beauty,  W'itb  borders  of  graceful  scroll-work 
and  grotesques  in  white  and  different  tints  of  blue,  with  usually  a 
rich  russet-brown  or  orange  ground.  Tondini  from  Siena  are  often 
decorated  in  this  way  with  a  central  medallion  containing  a  minute 
landscape,  painted  with  wonderful  minuteness  and  finish.  The 
landscapes  are  very  delicate  in  colour,  and,  though  often  not  more 
than  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter,  have  a  wonderful  suggestion 
of  atmosphere  and  distance  which  recalls  the  lovely  sunset-lit  back- 
grounds of  Pc'ugiuo's  pictures.  A  very  beautiful  plate  in  the  British 
Museum,  painted  in  this  minute  style  with  the  scene  of  Scjevola 
before  Porsena,  is  signed  on  the  back,  "  fata  i  Siena  da  M?  Bene- 
detto." Other  plates  by  the  same  very  clever  and  refined  painter 
are  decorated  only  in  blue,  with  touches  of  pure  white  on  the  creamy 
enamel  ground.  The  Kensington  Museum  has  a  good  specimen, 
with  a  central  painting  of  a  hermit  and  landscape  background, 
surrounded  by  a  delicate  border  of  arabesques.  Little  is  known  of 
the  artist.  Another  signature  which  occurs  on  Siena  ware  is  No. 
10,  in  one  case  conjoined  with  the  date  1542.  Majolica  with  plain 
blue  enamel  is  a  rare  variety,  and  has      ^^^  ^_^ 

been  attributed  to  Luca  or  Andrea  della   /"   '   A_  f    "\ 

Robbia,  some  pieces  being  marked  as  in  _         —^  "^       ^ 

No.ll,apparentlyfor"  Luca  della  Robbia,  1         1^ 
Florentia."     It   has   no  '—     '^ 

painting,  but  was  partly 
gilt;  in  colour  the  enamel 
resembles  the  plain  blue 
pottery,  of  Persia  men- 
tioned above.  It  consists 
mostly  of  vases  moulded 


IP 


No.  10. 


/No.  11. 
'  Potters'  marks, 
with  flutings  and  bosses  after  a.  metal  design  ;  very  few  pieces  exisTT 
The  "beautiful  sculpture  in  en.amelled  terra-cotta  made  by  thelJella 
Robbia  family  will  be  treated  of  under  the  head  of  Robbia. 

Venetian  majolica  was  not  largely  produced  till  towards  the 
second  half  of  the  16th  Sentury.  In  the  earlier  part  of  that  century 
the  few  potters  of  Venice  appear  to  have  chiefly  occupied  themselves 
with  attempts  to  produce  true  porcelain.  The  earliest  dated  speci- 
men of  Venetian  majolica  is  of  the  year  1540.  Some  of  this  ware 
is  very  decorative  in  effect,  and  has  paintings  of  graceful  and 
elaborate  foliage,  scroll-work,  and  arabesques,  designed  with  great 
intricacy.  It  is  in  blue  and  white,  the  main  enamel  ground  being 
a  very  pale  blue,  and  the  design  in 
deeper  shades  of  blue  with  high  lights 
in  pure  white.  Others  ■  have  land- 
scapes in  blue  and  white,  with  grace- 
ful, but  too  realistic  borders  of  fruit 
and  flowers  in  yellow,  green,  and  blue, 
somewhat  later  in  style.  Mark  No. 
12  occurs  on  some  of  the  finest  Vene- 
tian majolica.  Towards  the  end  of 
the  16th  century  there  was  a  rapid 
falling  off  in  the  artistic  beauty  of 
majolica  paintings,  and  not  solely  in 
the  execution  :  the  pigments  also  be-1 
came  thin  and  poor,  with  very  often  a 
.disagreeable  "granular "/look.  Some] 
effective  pottery  was  produced  atl 
Venice,!:.  1590-1620, with  a  deep  ultra- 
marine blue  enamel  ground,  on  which 
designs  were  painted  in  white,  a  style  of  ware  which  was  largely 
manufactured  at  Nevers  in  France  a  few  years  later  (see  fig,  62 
below). 

All  through  the  17th  and  18th  centuries  majolica  in  a  degraded 
form  was  produced  at  many  places  in  Italy  ;  but  most  of  the  old 
kilns,  such  as  those  of  Deruta,  Gubbio,  and  Faenza,  fell  into  disuse. 
The  latest  kind  of  majolica,  decorated  with  coarse  paintings  in  blues 
and  yellows  of  rather  harsh  tint,  was  largely  produced  at  Turin, 
Genoa,  Venice,  Savona,  Castello,  Naples,  -ilontelupo,  and  other 
cities.  The  older  potteries  at  Pesaro  and  Urbino  still  continued  in 
work,  but  produced  nothing  of  real  merit.  A  common  mark  on 
Turin  ware  is  No.  13  ;  and  on  Savona  majolica  one  of  the  two  forms 
in  No.  14  often  occurs.  In  the  beginnin;;  of  the  17th  century 
spirited  copies  were  made  of  the  magnificent  Rhodian  pottery, 
vnch  as  that  shown  in  fig.  48  above,  but  with  pigments  TCry^inferior 


Tdtter's  mark.     No.  12. 


No.  13 


No. 
Potters'  iuark%' 


to  those  of  the  origTnals.     At  Capo  di  Monte,  near  Naples,  a  manu' 

factory  of  pottery  and  porcelain  was  started  under  VoyO  pationagc 

in    1736;   but   it   was  more 

celebrated  for  the  production 

of  porcelain  than  of  enamelled 

wares.     Of  late  years  clever 

imitations  of  the  old  majolica 

have  been  produced  in  Italy, 

especially  from  the  workshop 

of  the  marquis  Ginori.     Even 

the    old    lustre   colours   are 

successfully  reproduced;  but 

most  of  the  modern  majolica  is  marred  by  a  want  of  spirit  and 

freedom,  the  iiatural  result  of  its  being  a  too  servile  copy  of  a 

bygone  style. 

Shapes  of  Majolica. — The  most  carefully  finished  and  finest  paint- 
ings are  as  a  r\ile  on  plates,  which  were  of  various  forms,  from  almost 
flat  disks  to  the  tondini  with  wide  flat  rims  and  deep  bowl -like 
centres.  Many  of  the  jugs,  vases,  and  ewers  are  extremely  graceful 
in  form,  some  suggested  by  the  brcmze  vessels  of  ancient  Rome, 
others  taken  from  Greek  vases.  Piccolpasso  gives  sketches  of  thj 
principal  shapes,  and  a  long  list  of  special  names,  not  now  of  much 
importance,  as  they  varied  in  dillerent  manufactories  and  even 
workshops  in  the  same  town.  The  character  of  the  non-pictorial 
decorations  combines  many  different  elements  of  style.  In  some 
of  the  patterns  we  see  a  survival  of  earlier  medi.-eval  and  native 
Italian  taste  and  invention.  Others,  especially  tlic  large  ewers  of 
Cafaggiolo  and  Faenza,  have  flowers  taken  from  Persian  pottery, 
but  treated  in  a  thoroughly  original  way.  Some  plates,  painted  in 
the  silver  lustre  only,  are  almost  imitations  of  Hispano-Moorish 
ware  or  actual  majolica  made  in  the  Balearic  Islands.  In  all  tho 
scroll -patterns,  mingled  with  grotesques,  it  is  easy  to  trace  tlic 
influence  of  the  ancient  wall -decorations  from  the  baths  of  Titus 
and  other  buried  buildings,  the  discovery  of  which  at  tho  beginning 
of  the  16th  century  did  so  much  to  destroy  the  lingering  medieval 
spirit  and  substitute  a  pseudo-classical  style,  which  finally  had  so 
fatal  an  effect  on  all  branches  of  art  in  Italy. 

Collections. — The  chief  collections  of  the  majolica  of  Italy  arc 
those  of  the  South  Kensington  Museum  (perhaps  the  most  com- 
pletely representative  of  all),  the  Bai'gello  in  Florence,  the  museums 
of  Jlilan,  Venice,  Turin,  Pesaro,  Urbino,  and  other  places  in  Italy. 
The  Hotel  Cluny  and  the  Louvre  in  Paris,  the  Ceramic  JIuscum  at 
Sevres,  as  well  as  Limoges,  Berlin,  Vienna,  Muni'  'i,  and  St  Peters- 
burg, have  good  collections.  The  British  Museum  collection  is  not 
large,  but  it  is  one  of  the  most  important,  from  the  number  of 
"signed"  pieces  that  it  contains,  and  from  the  fact  that  nearly 
all  its  specimens  are  remarkable  for  their  exceptional  beauty  of 
some  point  of  special  interest.' 

UttfatiiTe.—YoT  Itali.in  majolica,  see  Vasftri,  tivcs  o/Bollhla  Fmnco.  Buon 
lahnli^  and  Luca  delta  Robbia  (t-cl.  Milanesi,  JRS2) ;  Jleurer,  ItaHat'isihf  .MfJoti^Q 
JJiessm,  ISSl  ;  Corona,  La  Ctromica,  1S79;  Vanzoliiii,  lilorie  dtUt  Jahhrichc  rf, 
Majolichf,  Pesaro,  1879  (a  most  valuable  rpprint  of  (lie  best  old  treatises  on  the 
subject,  including  Piccolpasso's  illustiatcl  JIS.)  ;  Darcel  and  Dclaiiiie,  faiences 
Italiennes,  1SC4  :  Fortnum,  .Sovtft  Ketii,inrjtfin  Mnsnim  Cntaiaqne  of  .Mpjetlia't 
J873  :  Jacqueniart,  Les  Majotiqiiee  de  la  cclleclion  Cfnn^Muai,  IfeG;*,  also  .nrlicle  ill 
ffUZ.  des  Beaux-Arts,  xiii.  p.  289;  Drake,  Veurltau  Cei-auiics,  18C8 ;  I.a:^ri, 
Kotizia  della  raccolla  Correr,  ISS9 :  Raffaelli,  Maiolirhe  lavorate  in  Ca^Ul  Duraute^ 
1846;  Bonslii,  Majoliclte  di  cittadi  Castello,  185C  :  Casati.Ies  Fv'ti:ucesde  Diruta, 
1874;  Canipori,  Maioliea  di  Ferrara,  1871;  Dcdsette,  Mnioliche  di  I^esaro^ 
1845;  Frati,  Maiolicht  di  Pesaro,  1844;  Torteroli.  La  Malnlica  Savonese,  1S56; 
Pungileoni,  Pitture  in  .^faiolirhe  di  Urbino,  1857  ;  BraU'alooni,  Mastro  fiwrgio 
di  Gubbio,  Pesaro,  1S57.  For  infnnuation  on  tlie  niaiks  on  nia.ifdtra,  see 
Genolini,  Maiol.  Hal.,  Marche  t  Monogiammi,  Milan,  18SI ;  aiirl  De  .Mcly,  Lti 
Ceranuque  ital.,  Sijies  el  Monogranimcs,  Paris,  1884.  Many  valuable  articlc4 
on  majolica  are  scattered  through  the  volumes  of  the  Gaz.  des  Beaux-Arts. 

Section^  XI. — Spanish  and  Portuguese. 

Spanish. — Spanish  pottery  is  for  the-  mo.'it  part  a  coarse 
imitation  of  Italian  majolica,  chiefly  made  at  Valencia, 
Triana  (Seville),  and  Talavera.  Some  of  the  enamelled  warei 
made  at  the  last-named  town  is  elaborately  painted  wit' 
figure-subjects  in  blues,  yellow,  green,  and  manganeso 
purple,  of  extremely  bad  taste  and  feebleness  of  drawing.' 
The  simpler  pottery  made  at  Valencia  a  little  before  and 
after/the  year  1700,  though  rudely  painted,  is  very  decora- 
tive in  effect.  Large  plates  often  have  conventional  flowera 
or  profile  heads,  somewhat  after  the  style  of  .some  of  the 
earliest  majolica  of  Italy,  and  are  coarsely  painted  in  blue 
and  yellow.     In  the  18th  century  good  enamelled  pottery 


'  The  year  1884  will  he  memorable  in  the  history  of  majolica  for 
the  sale  and  dispersal  of  the  important  collection  formed  in  the  18tli 
century  by  Sir  Andrew  Fountaine  of  Narford.  A  few  specimens  were 
secured  for  the  South  Kensington  and  British  Museums,  but  some  of 
the  finest  pieces  were  bought  for  France,  especially  a  magnificent 
Faenza  plate,  dated  1508,  which  fetched  £966.  Several  of  the  Pesaro 
and  Urbino  dishes  sold  for  between  £200  and  £300. 

'  gee  CasatiLXes  Fa.iences  dc  Tulaxtra,  1S74. 


fcPAMSH,   ETC.  J 


POTTERY 


629 


was  made  at  Alcora,  painted  only  in  blues,  often  in  the 
Chinese  style.  Some  large  vases  of  Moorish  shape  have 
very  eflfective  blue  and  white  paintings  of  animals,  flowers, 
and  landscapes.^  A  quite  different  style  of  enamelled  pot- 
tery was  made  at  Puente  del  Arzobispo  in  the  IGth  or  17th 
century.  •Specimens  are  rare  ;  they  consist  chiefly  of  plates 
decorated  in  a  very  skilful  and  effective  way,  somewhat  after 
the  fashion  tf  Jloorish  wall-tiles,  "azulejos"  (see  Tiles). 
They  are  made  of  coarse  red  clay  covered  with  white 
enamel,  through  which  (before  firing)  the  outline  of  the 
design  was  scratched  down  to  the  red  body.  The  spaces 
between  the  incised  lines  were  filled  in  with  coloured 
enamels,  rich  blue,  green,  and  orange,  and  the  whole  glazed 
with  a  very  fusible  lead  glaze.  The  simple  and  mosaic-like 
patterns  thus  formed,  either  conventional  flowers  or  heraldic 
animals,  are  extremely  decorative  and  telling. 

Portuguese. — Little  or  no  enamelled  pottery  of  Portu- 
guese workmanship  earlier  in  date  than  the  17th  century 
is  known  to  exist.  Rato  was  one  of  the  chief  places  for 
the  manufacture  of  enamelled  wares,  which  are  coarsely 
painted,  like  the  latest  and  poorest  kinds  of  Italian  ma- 
jolica, and  are  not  earlier  in  date  than  1767,  when  the  Rato 
potteries  were  first  started.  Other  earlier  specimens  of 
unknown  make  also  exist,  and  are  marked  with  an  "R," 
like  the  Rato  ware,  to  which  they  are  very  superior  both 
in  design  and  execution.  The  best  are  in  blue  and  white 
only ;  many  are  marked  with  various  dates  during  the 
17th  century. 

Biscuit  Pottery  of  Spain  and  Portugal. — The  earliest 
kinds  now  existing  of  Spanish  pottery  without  either 
enamel  or  glaze  are  chiefly  large  wine-jars,  "  tinajas,"  about 
3  or  4  feet  high,  of  graceful  amphora-like  shape,  stamped 
with  simple  patterns  in  relief.  Some  of  them  date  from 
the  time  of  the  Moorish  occupation.  Both  Spain  and 
Portugal  have  always  been  remarkable  for  the  fineness 
and  beauty  of  their  potter's  clays,  and  consequently  have 
for  long  excelled  in'  the  production  of  simple  biscuit 
Tvares,  uncovered  by  either  enamel  or  glaze.  Very  graceful 
pottery  of  this  sort  is  manufactured  even  at  the  present 
day,  the  shapes  being  traditional,  handed  down  from 
century  to  century  with  but  little  change,  many  vessels 
being  still  modelled  after  the  old  Roman  forms.  Some 
Of  this  ware  is  of  a  white  porous  clay,  like  pipeclay,  and 
eome  is  of  a  fine  red,  close  in  texture,  with  slight  sur- 
fo  -^e  gloss,  almost  like  the  Roman  "  Samian."  One  com- 
mon kind  is  deco"rated  in  a  very  fanciful  and  ingenious 
fashion  by  the  application  of  simple  but  rich  surface  orna- 
ments, modelled  by  hand  in  relief,  or  applied  in  the  state  of 
lemi-fluid  slip.  Other  curious  water-jars  are  made  double, 
the  outer  vessel  being  pierced  with  patterns  of  open-work. 
A  third  variety  has  sparkling  particles  of  quartz  stuck  on 
its  surface  while  moist,  a  very  old  method  of  decoration, 
which  was  even  practised  by  the  potters  of  prehistoric 
times.  On  the  whole,  the  modern  biscuit  wares  of  Spain 
and  Portugal  are  among  the  most  truly  artistic  and  interest- 
ing of  any  that  are  now  i,iiade  in  Europe.  It  is  still  a  living 
art,  with  simple  beauty  both  in  material  and  shape,  not  a 
laboured  revival  of  a  dead  style,  or  dull  copy  of  the  artistic 
productions  of  a  far-off  time  when  fitness  linked  with  grace 
came  naturally  to  the  humblest  workman. 

SECTioy  XII. — Fkencii  from  the  16th  to  the  18th 
Century. 
During  the  1 6th  century  two  very  different  but  equally 
i.'Cmarkable  sorts  of  pottery,  decorated  with  groat  elabora- 
tion, were  made  in  France.     One  was  that  invented  and 
manufactured  by  Bernard  Palissy,  which  was  a  fine  earthen- 
ware, usually  modelled   in   relief,   covered   with  a   white 
tin  enamel,  and   painted  with  many  bright  colours  (see 
Seo  Ri.ino,  Spanish  Handbook,  South  Kensingtou  Museum,  1879. 


Palissy).  The  other,  Oiron  pottery,  popularly  called 
'•faience  Henri  deux,"  is  very  different  both  in  design  and 
execution.  This  rare  and  curious  ware,  of  which  only  about 
forty  pieces  are  known,  was  made  by  a  potter  called  Fran- 
cois Cherpentier  for  his  patron,  a  rich  and  arti.stic  widow 
lady,  named  Helene  de  Hangest,  who  established  a  work- 
shop and  kiln  at  her  Ch&teau  d'Oiron,  in  the  province  of 
Thouars,  between  the  years  1524  and  1537.  The  manufac- 
ture was  carried  on  by  Helene  de  Hangest's  son  for  some 
years  after  her  death,  but  the  pieces  then  produced  are 
inferior  in  quality,  and  soon  ceased  to  be  made  at  all.  This 
ware  is  not  enamelled ;  it  is  simply  a  fine  white  pipeclay, 
to  which  a  delicate  cream-tint  is  given  by  a  very  slight 
tinge  of  yellow  in  the  lead  glaze.  Its  forms  are  very  elabor- 
ate, sometimes  extremely  graceful,  but  occasionally  too 
fanciful,  and  overloaded  with  ornament.  It  consists  of 
plates,  tazze,  holy-water  pots,  ewers,  salt-cellars,  and  other 
varieties  of  shape,  generally  forms  more  suited  to  metal 
than  to  clay,  ornamented  with  very  graceful  interlaced 
strap-work  and  arabesques,  such  as  were  much  used  by  the 
great  Augsburg  and  Nuremberg  workers  in  silver.  The 
method  in  which  many  of  the  ornaments  are  executed  is 
the  chief  peculiarity  of  the  ware  :  they  are  first  incised  or 
stamped  into  the  soft  clay  of  the  vessel,  and  then  the  sunk 
patterns  are  filled  up  with  different  clay  pastes,  tinted  with 
dark  brown,  soft  yellow,  or  buff.  Many  of  the  delicate  leaf- 
ornaments  appear  to  have  been  formed  with  a  metal  stamp ; 
some  are  exactly  the  same  as  those  used  by  contemporary 
bookbinders.  The  ornaments  are  not  all  done  in  this  labo- 
rious manner ;  some  are  simplj' 
painted  under  the  glaze,  especi- 
ally on  the  later  productions  of  j 
Oiron.  Monograms  and  em- 
blems occur  frequently,  the  sala- 
mander of  Francis  I.,the  "H.  D.".  p^^^^^.^  „^^^_  jjo.  15. 
for  Henri  deux,  the  royal  inter- 
laced crescents,  or  coats  of  arms  (see  No.  15).  Fig.  6 1  shows 
a  beautiful  covered  tazza  in  the  Louvre,  made  during  the 
reign  of  Francis  I. 
There  are  eleven 
piecesof  this  ware 
in  the  Louvre ; 
the  Kensington 
Museum  has  live; 
but  the  greater 
number  of  known 
specimens  are  in 
the  possession  of 
members  of  the 
Rothschildfamily. 
It  was  at  one  time 
thought  to  be  thej 
production  of  a 
pottery  under  the 
])atronage  of 

Henry  II.,  and 
hence  the  name 
by  which  it  was 
formerly  known ; 

but  its  real  origin    p_^   ci.-Taz«t  of  Oiron  pottery.     fLouvre. » 
was     cstabhshed 

from  clear  documentary  evidence  published  in  If.  Fillon's 
valuable  monograph  on  the  subject. 

ThrouRliout  the  period  wo  are  now  considering  enamelled  polloiT 
was  iiroilurcd  at  a  very  largo  number  of  French  towns,  often  with 
tlio  liclp  of  potters  from  Italy;  and  the  introduction  of  the  tin 
enamel  soon  superseded  the  earlier  sort  of  ware  witli  a  bright  green 
or  blue  glaze,  which  at  the  end  of  tlie  LMh  and  beginning  of  the 
IGth  century  was  the  chief  and  most  artistic  kind  of  iwttery  that 
was  macb)  in  France.  The  change  was  not  wholly  a  gain,  as  pieces 
of  the  older  ware  were  moulded  in  relief  with  designs  of  great  beauty 


630 


LOTTERY 


[fKENCH,  OEEILAJJ 


mostly  Gothic  iu  feeling— especially  those  made  at  Avignon, 

SaTi<mv,  and  Beauvais  ;  the  reliefs,  on  the  older  French  ware  are 
/very  delicate  and  sharp,  and  often 
'of  great  decorative  etfect.  Nevers 
iwas  one  of  the  chief  manufactories 
of  enamelled  ware ;  from  about 
1570  to  the  end  of  the  17th  century 
it  produced  mostly  poor  copies  of 
the  later  sort  of  Italian  majolica. 
After  that  a  strong  Oriental  influ- 
ence set  in,  and  a  peculiar  ware 
with  a  deep-blue  enamel  ground 
was  made,  very  like  that  produced 
by  the  Venetian  potters.  Some  of 
this,  painted  in  white  enamel  only, 
mth  Persian  designs,  is  effective 
and  pleasant  in  coloiu-  (see  fig.  62). 
Other  pieces  have  flowers,  treated 
in  a  more  realistic  way,  painted  iu 
harsh  yellow,  gi  een,  and  red,  quite 
out  of  harmony  with  the  rich  blue 
ground.  J.  Booidu,  a  potter  work- 
ing at  Nevers  from  1602  to  1620, 
signed  his  ware  with  mark  No. 
16  ;  another,  named  H.  Borne,  used 
Ho.  17.  During  the  18th  century 
Nevers  chiefly  produced  pottery  of 
Chinese  forms,  painted  in  blue  with 
Chinese  figures  and  flowers,  and 
also  a  large  quantity  of  pottery  ^^^  g2_  _e„^^  ^f  i;^^^^  tt 
painted  in  many  colom-s  with  coarse      ^^^  ^  j^  ^^^^  ^^  ^^^. 

deigns,  somewhat  after  the  Delft  enamelled  ground;  Per- 

Btyle.    The  17th-century  enamelled      gian  sjyje 
pottery  of  Rouen  is  the  finest  of  the  ^^  ' 

mter  French  wares.  It  is  mostly  painted  in  rich  red  and  blue  only, 
■with  very  minute  and  well-designed  arabesques  of  geometrical  form, 
adapted,  not  copied,  with  great 
skill  and  taste  from  Oriental  de- 
signs (see  fig.  63).  Very  large 
plates,  wine-coolers,  hanging  cis- 
terns, and  ewers  are  made  of  it. 
One  very  rare  variety  has  the  blue 
and  red  pattern  on  a  deep  orange 
ground,  but  it  is  very  inferior  iu 
artistic  effect  to  that  on  the 
white  ground.  The  finest  specimens  were  made  before  1700  ;  after 
that  time  the  painting  became  coarser.     Copies  of  Chinese  wares 


L-ff^ 


HB 


No.  16.  No. 

Potters'  marks. 


17. 


FiQ.  63. — Dish  of  Kouen  enamelled  pottery,  painted  in  blues  and 
deep  red. 

were  also  made  at  Eouen  in  the  18th  century,  all  gaudy  in  colour, 
and  mostly  poor  in  execution.  The  Rouen  Museum  has  the  best 
collection  of  its  native  ware  ;  there  are  very  fine  specimens  also  in 
the  South  Kensington  Museum.  During  the  18th  century  Moustiers 
produced  some  very  decorative  pottery,  painted  in  various  shades 
of  blue,  with  delicate  wreaths,  masks,  and  arabesques,  somewhat  after 
the  Eouen  fashion.     Other  colours  were  also  used  in  Very  minute 


patterns,  but  the  simple  blue  and  white  is  the  best.  Blue  and  white 
pottery  with  fairly  good  designs  was  also  manufactured  at  St  Cloud, 
Sceaux,  and  Saint  Amaml.  as  well  as  many  other  French  towns; 
during  the  first  half  of  the  18th  century.  Most,  however,  of  the 
French  wares  of  this  ilate  are  little  better  than  imitations  of  jiorce- 
lain,  and  their  decoration  feeble  copies  of  Chinese  or  Japanese  designs. 
LiteratuTe. — For  Oiron  ware,  see  Delauge,  Jieciteil  de  ,  .  .  FiHtnce  .  .  .  dUc 
dc  Henri  JI.^  1S61  ;  Fillon,  Les  faiences  d'Olroji,  1SG3  (best  work) ;  Taiutuxier, 
Les  Faiences  dite  de  Henri  II.,  IStJO.  For  Rouen  ware,  see  Delisle,  Fidtnctda 
Jloiieii,  1865 ;  Pettier,  Histoire  de  la  Fawiice  de  Kouen,  1S70 ;  Ris-Paquot, 
Faiences  de  Roueti,  1870.  For  other  Fi'eiich  potteries  the  reader  may  consolt 
Clemeot  de  Ris,  Faieitces  Frp.ii^iises,  ilnsee  du  Lonvre,  1871 ;  Mareschal,  Faiences 
Anciennes  el  Moileriies,  18(57  ;  TaiBturier,  Porcelaiiie  et  Faience  (.itsace  et  Lot- 
raineX  1S6S ;  Houdny,  La  Ceramiifue  Lilloise,  1S69 ;  Davillier,  Fa'ixice  df 
MonstieTs,  1863  ;  De  Segange,  La  Faience  de  Nevers,  1863  ;  Pouy,  Les  FaiCMa 
d'Origine  Picarde,  1874  ;  Filloa,  L'Art  de  Terre  chei  les  Poilcvins,  18^.  The 
various  volumes  of  the  Gaz.  des  Beaux-Arts  contain  mauy  valuable  articles  on 
the  whole  subject. 

Section  XIII. — Medlsvai,  German,  Dutch,  kc. 

Though  little  is  kno^vn  of  the  early  ceramic  history  of  Use  o 
Germany,  it  is  certain  that  the  application  of  a  tin  enamel ''" 
and  enamel  colours  was  known  to  the  potters  of  that  *'"™' 
country  even  in  the  13th  century.  Some  plaques,  with 
heads  in  relief,  painted  in  various  colours  over  a  white 
enamel  ground,  still  exist  at  Leipsic ;  they  were  made  for 
wall-decoration,  and  are  said  to  be  of  the  year  1207.  At 
Breslau  there  is  a  monument  of  enamelled  clay  to  Henry 
rV.  of  Silesia,  made  about  1300.  According  to  one  story, 
the  use  of  a  white  tin  enamel  was  perfected  at  Scheie- 
stadt  by  an  Alsacian  potter  who  died  in  1283.  Other 
examples  exist,  though  few  in  number,  at  various  places 
in  Germany,  suflScient  to  show  an  early  acquaintance  with 
the  method  of  producing  enamelled  ware,  which,  however, 
seems  to  have  fallen  into  disuse,  and  during  the  15th  and 
16th  centuries' to  have  been  superseded  by  the  fine  sorts 
of  stoneware,  in  the  manufacture  of  which  the  German 
potters  were  so  widely  celebrated. 

Grey  stoneware,  richly  decorated  with  delicate  stamped  Stoa* 
patterns  in  relief,  and  generally,  though  not  always,^™"- 
covered  with  a  lead  glaze,  was  produced  in  great  quan- 
tities in  Germany,  Flanders,  and  Holland  from  the  end 
of  the  14th  century  tiU  quite  modern  times,  and  was  very 
largely  imported  into  England  and  France.  Much  of 
this  stoneware  (called  by  the  French ."  grfes  de  Flandres  ") 
is  decorated  with  great  delicacy  and  taste  ;  its  tint,  grey, 
brown,  or  cream-white,  is  very  soft  and  agreeable.  The 
earlier  specimens'  have  reliefs  of  a  Gothic  character,  always 
stamped  ■with  great  crispness  and  sharpness,  not  the  least 
blimted  by  the  process  of  firing;  many  have  elaborate 
coats  of  arms,  or  branches  of  simple  foliage,  which  spread 
gracefully  over  the  surface  of  the  vessel ;  others  have 
bands  of  figures,  very  minutely  trsated  in  slight  relief. 
Another  method  of  decoration  was  by  incised  patterns, 
impressed  from  relief-stamps  ;  sometimes,  as  was  the  case 
with  the  Oiron  ware,  bookbinders'  dies  were  used  for 
forming  such  patterns  in  the  soft  clay.  Some  of  the 
cream-white  ware  is  left  tmglazed,  but  most  kinds  have 
a  ■vitreous  lead  glaze,  either  colourless  or  mixed  ■with 
oxide  of  cobalt  or  manganese.  These  two  colours,  indigo- 
blue  and  purple-brown,  are  often  used  to  pick  out  the 
reUef-pattems,  thus  'making  the  design  more  efiective. 
Owing  to  the  use  of  old  stamps  and  traditional  designs 
much  of  t-hia  pottery  has  patterns  considerably  older  than 
the  ware  itself,  the  date  being  frequently  introduced 
among  ornaments  which  look  very  much  earlier  than  they 
really  are.  Fig.  64  shows  a  common  form  of  jug,  called 
a  "  greybeard  "  from  the  grotesque  head  modelled  on  the 
neck.  The  body  of  the  jug  is  covered  ■with  very  graceful 
scroll-work  of  oak  branches  in  low  relief. 

Another  curious  variety  of  German  pottery,  consisting  Imitt 
chiefly  of  tankards  and  jugs,  made  to  imitate  enamelled  t'"" 
metal-work,   was  manufactured   mostly   at   Kreussen   in^Q^j; 
Bavaria.     The  body  is  of  hard  red  elay,  covered  with  a  ^^-^i 
dark-brown   enamel,- the    designs  in   slight    relief   being' 
taken  from  the  Augsburg  or  Briot  style  of  metal-work 


DUTCH,  BCANDINAVIAN.] 


POTTERY 


631 


— sti:t,p-work,  wreaths,  grotesques,  or  human  figures.     A 
faYoiiTile  design  has  reliefs  of  the  twelve  Apostles,  little 


FiQ.  64. — Stoneware  j u.L'  <  i  '  :  i  ';  Flemish  ware,  early  17th 

century.     (South  Kensington  Museum.) 

more  than  an  inch  high,  under  flat  architectural  canopies ; 
a  strong  Gothic  feeling  in  the  treatment  of  such  figures 
occurs  on  tankards  made  as  late  as  the  end  of  the  17th 
century.  The  coloured  decoration  of  this  ware  is  very 
brilliant ;  the  minute  figures  or  ornaments  are  picked  out 
.  in  bright  enamel  colours — red,  green,  blue,  and  yellow 
— altogether  producing  a  very  striking  but  thoroughly 
ologne  unceramic  effect.  A  quite  plain  stoneware,  with  surface 
lone-  slightly  mottled  with  grey  and  brown,  appears  to  have 
'"'■  been  one  of  the  most  esteemed  varieties  during  the  16th 
century,  judging  from  the  beauty  of  the  silver  rims  and 
lids  with  which  wine-jugs  of  this  kind  were  usually 
mounted.  The  mottling  was  produced  by  the  brownish 
glaze  running  in  the  kiln  into  a  granular  surface,  which 
formed  a  pleasant  texture,  something  like  that  on  an 
ostrich's  egg.  The  best  qualities  were  made  at  Cologne, 
and  largely  imported  into  England  under  the  name  of 
gniffiato  "  Cologne "  stoneware.  A  rude  kind  of  sgrafEato  ware 
""•  was  also  made  in  Germany  and  Holland  during  the  17th 
and  18th  centuries.  Coarse  red-clay  vessels  were  covered 
with  a  slip  of  white  pipeclay,  and  rude  figures,  often  of 
aair-ca  or  kings,  were  scratched  through  the 
white  down  to  the  red  body.  The  whole 
was  then  glazed  with  a-  yellowish  lead  glaze. 
Bottger;  the  first  maker  of  Meissen  porcelain, 
manufactured  curious  varieties  of  pottery  at 
the  beginning  of  the  18th  century, — especially  Potter'e  mark, 
a  ware  like  red  ja-sjier,  which  was  so  hard  that 
it  was  cut  and  polished  by  the  lapidary's  wheel.  It  is 
usually  marked  with  No.  18. 

Good  collections  of  German  pottery  are  in  the  museums 
of  Berlin,  Dresden,  Munich,  LiJwenberg,  Mijiden,  and  pri- 
vate collections  at  Nuremberg ;  the  Kensington  Museum 
lias  also  a  number  of  fine  speciinen.s. 

Holland. — Holland,  especially  the  town  of  Delft,*  pro- 
<luced  very  large  quantities  of  ix)ttery  covered  witli  a  fine 
white  enamel.  The  early  specimens  data  from  the  end  of 
the  16th  century.  Much  of  this  ware  is  very  soft  and  plea- 
sant in  tone,  and  very  decorative  in  effect,  especially  that 
in  blue  and  white  only.  Designs  of  great  variety  occur, 
come  copied  from  Persian  or  Chinese  originals,  others  with 
'  See  Havard,  Faience  de  Del/i,  1878. 


es,  oioon  oi 


No.  19.  No.  20. 

Potters'  marks. 


coats  of  arms  surrounded  by  graceful  borders,  formed  of 
medallions  and  wreaths.  A  clever  arrangement  of  pea- 
cocks' feathers  is  a  common  and  very  effective  motive, 
used  especially  for  plates.  Other  sorts  of  very  inferior 
artistic  merit  have  paintings  of  flowers  or  human  figures, 
coarsely  executed  in  rather  harsh 
colours — yellow,  green,  and  red  I  \  i  ■> 
— mingled  with  the  more  har-  I  \/  IC 
monious  cobalt  blues  and  man-  "^ 

ganese  purple.  Many  pieces  of 
Delft  ware  are  marked  with 
maker's  initials,  as  No.  1 9  or  No.  20,  probably  two  mem-' 
bers  of  the  Kulick  family,  of  about  the  middle  of  the  17 tb 
century. 

But  little  pottery  of  any  real  artistic  value  was  produced  in  anj 
Western  country  during  the  18th  century,  with  the  exception  ol 
the  commoner  and  cheaper  sorts  of  wares,  with  little  or  no  orna- 
ment, which  were  still  made  after  the  old  traditions.  The  fact  it 
that  the  increasing  introduction  of  Chinese  and  Japanese  waret 
and  the  \videly-spread  manufacture  of  porcelain  in  the  West  gav6 
the  death-blow  to  the  production  of  pottery  designed  and  decorate^ 
after  simple  and  natural  methods.  The  enamelled  pottery  of  the 
18th  century  was  inostly  little  better  than  a  bad  imitation  of  porce- 
lain, a  material  which  has  a  beauty  quite  its  own,  and  requires  forma 
£ud  methods  of  decoration  very  different  from  those  that  are  suited 
even  to  the  most  finely-enamelled  earthenware. 

Literature.— ^e  Menard  van  Hoorebeke,  Beimetties  AntUjaiiU,  1867;  WecJdien 
lin,  rases  en  Oris  dea  XVI'  et  XVII'  Siida,  1860 :  Jouveaux,  EUtoin  da  .  ,  , 
Bottger,  1874. 

Scandinavian. 
The  pottery  of  Denmark,  Norway,  and  Sweden  for  the 
most  part  resembles  that  of  Germany.  Sweden,  especially 
during  the  18th  century,  was  very  active  in  the  production 
of  enamelled  pottery,  but  little  of  it  possesses  any  origin- 
ality either  in  form  or  design.  Perhaps  the  best  variety 
is  a  ware  made  at  Stockholm,  covered  with  bluish  white 
enamel,  on  which  simple  patterns  are  painted  in  white. 
The  potteries  of  Marieberg  and  Rorstrand.^  also  turned 
out  large  quantities,  painted  mostly  with  very  weak 
designs ;  some  are  imitations  of  Oriental  wares,  while 
other  kinds  are  decorated  in  a  realistic  French  style. 

Section  XIV. — English  from  the  16th  Centuet. 

Little  except  the  commonest  sort  of  domestic  pottery 
was  made  in  England  during  the  16th  centiu-y.  The  grey 
mottled  stoneware  described  above,  which  was  largely  used 
for  sack-jugs  and  tankards,  appears  to  have  been  wholly  a 
foreign  import,  mostly  from  Cologne.  A  common  item 
in  16th-century  inventories  is — "a  stone  jugge  or  pott, 
garnished  with  silver  and  double  gylted."  The  silver- 
mounted  lids  were  often  added  by  English  silver-workers, 
and  aro  frequently  very  elaborately  embossed  and  chased. 
It  was  not  till  quite  the  end  of  the  century  that  certain 
Dutch  potters  started  in  London  the  making  of  stoneware. 
This  English-made  ware  is  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from 
that  of  Cologne  or  Holland,  as  it  was  designed  and 
manufactured  in  the  foreign  way.  Large  globular  jugs, 
stamped  in  relief  with  a  grotesque  bearded  face  and  other 
ornaments,  were  one  of  the  favouiite  forms.  Such  were 
called  "  greybeards  "  or  "  bellannines,"  from  the  unpopular 
cardinal  of  that  name,  of  whom  the  bearded  face  was 
8up])osed  to  be  a  caricature  (see  fig.  64  above).  Great 
numbers  wore  made  in  the  Low  Countries  and  copied  by, 
the  Dutch  pottei's  in  London.  In  1688  two  Germari 
potters  named  Elers  settled  in  StafTordshiro,  and  there 
produced  hard  stoneware  of  very  fine  quality.  Their  pro- 
cess, however,  soon  became  known  to  other  potters. 

The  common  wares  of  this  time  were  mainly  produced 

in  the  Staffordshire  jjotterics ;  §orae  wore  decorated  in  a 

very  rude  but  effective  way  by  dropping  fliud  white  slip 

through  a  quill  on  to  the  surface  of  vessels  made  of  red 

•  See  Ofromijw*  Suidoiaet  du  XVflf  SHcU,  18721 


632 


POTTERY 


[English; 


clay.  The  whole  was  then  covered  with  a  coarse  lead 
glaze,  made  from  powdered  lead  ore  (sulphide  of  lead), 
sprinkled  through  a  sieve  on  to  the  soft  clay.  The  process 
of  firing  produced  a  vitreous  glaze,  composed  of  silicate 
of  lead,  the  silica  being  taken  up  from  the  clay  body. 
Thomas  and  Ralph  Toft  made  a  number  -of  large  plates, 
drinking  mugs  or  "tygs,"  and  candlesticks,  decorated  in 
this  way  with  rather  elaborate  designs  (see  fig.  65).  The 
potter's  name  and 
the  date  frequently 
occur  among  the 
slip  ornaments, 
which  are  .some- 
times in  red  and 
brown  on  a  white 
ground,  as  well  as 
white  on  red.  About 
the  year  1680  a  new 
sort  of  glaze  was  in- 
vented, very  useful 
for  the  common 
kinds  of  hard  stone- 
ware, and  ex- 
tremely dufable, 
namely,  the  "saltFia.  65.— Coarse  e.-aL'ucmvaie  Jish,  with  de- 
„!„„„»  n^v,i;„.l  K„  coration  in  slip,  signed  by  Thomas  Toft.  c. 
glaze,  apphed  by  ^^^^-  (Museum  of  Geology,  London.) 
throwmg   common 

salt  (chloride  of  sodium)  into  the  hot  kiln  when  the  pro- 
cess of  firing  was  nearly  complete.  The  salt  was  volatilized 
and  decomposed  ;  the  soda  combined  with  the  free  silica  in 
the  clay,  and  a  coating  of  hard  silicate  of  soda  was  formed. 
A  very  high  temperature  is  required  for  this  process, 
which  is  chiefly  used  for  drain-pipes  and  vessels  to  hold 
corrosive  acids,  the  salt  glaze  being  almost  indestructible. 
Joha  .  Towards  the  end  of  the  17th  century  a  gentleman 
Dwight.  named  John  Dwight  spent  many  years  in  experiments  to 
improve  the  manufacture  of  pottery,  and  also  to  discover 
the  secret  of  true  transparent  porcelain.  He  appears  to 
have  been  an  artist  of  great  ability,  and  not  only  made 
domestic  pottery  of  Cologne  ware  but  also  modelled  figures 
and  large  busts  in  pale-grey  glazed  stoneware ;  the  British 
Museum  possesses  a  fine  portrait  bust  of  Prince  Rupert  by 
)iim,  modelled  with  great  truth  and  spirit,  almost  recalling 
the  touch  of  the  old  Florentine  sculptors  in  terra- cotta. 
In  1671  John  Dwight  took  out  a  patent  for  his  special 
methods  of  pottery  and  porcelain  work,  and  set  up  kilns 
at  Fulham.  Many  of  his  receipts  for  porcelain  exist,  and 
have  been  published  in  Jewitt's  valuable  work  on  The 
Ceramic  Art  of  Great  Britain  (1877),  but  no  specimens 
of  this  early  English  porcelain  are  now  known. 
Mmbi'th  The  Lambeth  potteries  were  established  at  a  very  early 
foueii  83.  period,  but  it  was  not  till  the  17th  century  that  they 
produced  ware  superior  to  the  common  biscuit  or  lead- 
glazed  varieties.  Some  pieces  of  about  1660  are  marked 
with  No.  21  mark.  Certain  Dutch  potters  settled  at 
Lambeth  early  in  the  century,  and  started  the  g^  -rr 
manufacture  of  a  finer  sort  of  pottery,  covered  \^ '  Xi.  , 
with  a  tin  enamel.  Most  of  this  is  in  the  Potter's  mark. 
style  of  the  Delft  wares,  painted  either  in  ^'°-  21. 
cobalt  blues  alone  or  with  the  coarse  green,  yellow,  and 
manganese  purple  used  in  the  more  gaudy  kind  of  Delft. 
The  Lambeth  potters  also  imitated  Palissy  ware,  with  high 
reliefs  of  human  figures  or  plants  and  reptiles, — very  poor 
copies  of  Palissy's  originals,  the  modelling  being  extremely 
blunt.  The  enamel  ground  has  a  pink  tinge,  and  the  re- 
liefs are  picked  out  in  various  colours.  Some  specimens  of 
this  Lambeth  ware  are  dated  on  the  back  in  blue  with 
various  years  during  the  reigns  of  Charles  I.  and  Charles 
n.  Another  variety  has  coarse  imitations  of  late  Italian 
majolica,  while  other  pieces  have  English  designs, — coarse 


portraits  of  Charles  II.  and  his  queen,  with   arabesque 
borders,  all  very  rudely  executed. 

The  beginning  of  the  18th  century  in  England  saw  a 
great  increase  of  activity  in  the  production  of  many  kinds 
of  pottery.  Numbers  of  patents  were  taken  out  and  new 
kilns  set  up  at  a  great  many  different  places.  Though  many 
improvementswere  made  in  the  preparation  and  combination 
of  different  clays  and  considerable  advances  in  technical  skill 
were  gained,  yet  little  pottery  of  any  artistic  value  was  made. 

Wedgwood  Ware. — The  Wedgwoods  were  an  old  Stafi'ord- 
shire  family,  and  one  member  at  least  was  a  potter  in  the 
17th  century.  This  was  John  Wedgwood  (1654-1705), 
the  great-uncle  of  Josiah,  who  in  the  next  century  founded 
the  great  pottery  which  he  called  "  Etruria."  Only  one 
piece  signed  by  John  Wedgwood  is  known  to  exist;  it  is 
in  the  interesting  historical  collection  of  ceramic  wares  in 
the  Jermyn  Street  Museum  of  Geology,  London.  It  is  a 
"  puzzle  jug  "  with  three  spouts  and  a  hollow  handle,  made 
of  coarse  brown  clay,  covered  with  the  usual  green  lead 
glaze.  The  potter's  name  and  the  date  1691  are  incised 
round  the  jug."- 

In  the  middle  of  the  18th  century,  when  Josiah  Wedg- 
wood was  a  young  man,  a  great  impulse  had  been  given 
to  the  study  and  appreciation  of  classical  art,  partly 
through  the  discovery  of  the  buried  cities  of  Pompeii  and 
Herculaneum,  and  also  on  account  of  the  growing  enthu- 
siasm for  the  beautiful  Greek  painted  vases,  which  were 
then  being  sought  for  with  great  avidity  in  the  tombs  of 
Etruria  and  Magna  Graecia.  Josiah  Wedgwood  devoted 
his  life  and  great  talents  to  an  attempt  to  reproduce  the 
severe  beauties  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  pottery.  Unfor- 
tunately in  this  not  unpraiseworthy  aim  he  neglected 
the  special  requirements  of  fictile  work.  His  productions, 
delicate  and  beautiiul  as  they  often  are,  have  the  charac- 
teristics of  anything  rather  than  pottery.  With  great 
labour  and  expense  he  turned  out  from  his  workshops 
imitations,  necessarily  unsuccessful,  of  ancient  engraved 
gems  and  camei,  of  jasper,  basalt,  or  mottled  marbles,  of 
gem- like  cut  glass,  such  as  the  Portland  vase,  and  dull 
copies,  feeble  in  drawing  and  hard  in  texture,  of  beautiful 
painted  Greek  vases.  Of  natural  methods  of  decoration 
suitable  to  pottery,  or  of  the  life  and  freedom  of  the 
plastic  clay  rising  into  graceful  forms  under  the  touch 
of  the  thrower's  hand  aided  by  the  rhythmical  movement 
of  the  wheel,  he  knew  nothing.  Nearly  all  his  pottery  is 
dully  scholastic  .and  archseologioal  in  style,  and  therefore 
must,  on  the  whole,  be  regarded  as  a  failure,  though  often 
a  very  clever  and  even  beautiful  failure. 

Wedgwood's  most  characteristic  ware,  in  the  production 
of  which  he  was  aided  by  Flaxman  and  other  able  artists, 
consists  of  plaques  and  vessels,  vases,  cups,  plates,  and 
other  forms  motilded  in  clay,  delicately  tinted  blue,  brown, 
and  various  colours,  on  which  minute  cameo  reliefs  in 
white  paste  were  applied  while  they  were  soft,  and  were 
then  fixed  by  firing  !Many  of  them  have  very  beautiful 
figures,  some  copied  from  Greek  and  Roman  gems  or  vases, 
others  being  specially  designed  for  him ;  but  all  are  classical 
in  style.  Some  of  his  pieces  are  quite  astonishing  for  their 
microscopic  delicacy  of  detail ;  others  have  wreatlis,  foliage, 
and  minute  diaper  ornaments  applied  in  the  same  way. 
Wedgwood  also  produced  very  fine  and  porcelain -like 
varieties  of  white  enamelled  pottery,  some  even  decorated 
with  a  metallic  lustre,  purple  in  colour,  and  mottled  to 
imitate  marble  ;  some  are  cleverly  modelled  to  imitate  large 
sea-shells.  Indeed  his  technical  methods  were  varied  with 
the  utmost  ingenuity,  and  would  need  a  treatise  to  them- 
selves if  eveu  a  rough  outline  were  given  of  all  the  varieties. 

'  For  a  full  account  of  the  Wedgwood  family  and  their  ware,  see 
Jewitt,  Life  of  Josiah  Wedgwood,  18C6  ;  and  Metej^d,  Wedgwood 
a»d  his  WorJca,  1873. 


AXCLENT  MEXICAN,  ETC.] 


P  0  T  T  E  K  Y 


633 


Towards  the  end  of  the  iSth  Century  many  imitations  were 
made  of  the  Wedgwood  cameo  ware  by  different  English 
manufacturers,  and  even  at  Sevres  it  was  copied  in  porce- 
lain, though  with  original  French  designs.  None,  how- 
ever, are  equal  to  Wedgwood's  work,  either  in  beauty  of 
design  or  delicacy  of  execution. 

Until  quite  recently  Httle  or  no  pottery  of  any  artistic  merit  has 
been  produced  in  England  during  the  present  century,  partly  owing 
to  the  absurd  notion  that  pottery  is  a  sorl:  of  inferior  porcelain, 
and  should  be  made  to  resemble  it  as  mnch  as  possible,  and  also 
very  largely  on  account  of  the  invention  in  the  18th  century  of 
a  process  (described  below)  for  printing  patterns  under  the  glaze, 
so  as  to  avoid  the  labour  of  painting  them  by  hand.  Other  modern 
so-called  improvements  of  manufacture  have  done  much  to  destroy 
aU  true  art  iu  English  pottery  ;  such  are  the  too  finely  ground  and 
artificial  mixtures  of  ditfereut  materials,  the  gre.it  use  of  the  mould 
in  preference  to  the  potter's  wheel,  and,  most  fatal  of  all,  the  fact 
that,  when  the  pottery  is  thrown  on  the  wheel,  it  is  afterwards 
handed  over  to  a  workman  who  turns  it  on  a  lathe  and  rubs  it 
down  with  glass-paper,  as  if  it  were  a  block  of  wood,  thus  remov- 
ing all  the  surface  put  on  the  vessel  by  the  touch  of  the  thrower's 
hand.  Indeed,  the  great  manufactory  of  Sevres  has  now  so  com- 
pletely lost  all  sense  of  the  natural  and  reasonable  treatment  of 
plastic  clay  that  the  larger  vases  are  cast  whole  by  being  poured  in 
a.  fluid  state  into  a  mould,  a  method  reasonable  enough  for  iron  or 
bronze  but  ludicrously  inappropriate  to  plastic  clay.  Some  few 
manufacturers  have,  however,  of  late  tried  to  produce  pottery 
shaped  and  decorated  in  a  more  natural  way.  The  Lambeth  pot- 
tery produces  a  good  deal  of  excellent  work,  especially  ware  covered 
(after  the  Japanese  fashion)  with  one  brilliant  enamel  colour.  Mr 
William  De  Morgan  of  Chelsea  and  Merton  h,is  perhaps  made  the 
greatest  advances  of  all,  having  rediscovered  the  way  to  make  and 
use  the  beautiful  thickly-glazed  blues  and  greens  of  the  old  Persian 
ware,  and  also  the  fine  silver  and  copper  lustres  of  Gubbio  and 
Spain.  He  uses  thes?  splendid  colours  in  designs  conceived  and 
drawn  with  the  old  spirit,  but  of  sufficient  originaUty  to  make 
them  a  real  stage  in  the  development  of  ceramic  art,  not  a  mere 
archaeological  revival  of  styles  and  methods  which  have  long  ceased 
to  have  a  significance  and  life  of  their  own. 

Sad  though  the  confession  is,  it  must  be  admitted  that,  to  find 
1  class  of  pottery  designed  with  lines  of  natural  beauty  and  pro- 
duced in  accordance  with  the  simple  requirements  of  plastic  clay, 
it  is,  for  the  most  part,  necessary  to  go,  not  to  the  centres  of  our 
boasted  l'9th-century  civilization  with  its  countless  devices  for  turn- 
ing out  %vork  cheaply  and  rapidly,  but  rather  to  the  humble  work- 
shops of  more  primitive  races,  among  whom  the  commercial  spirit 
has  not  yet  destroyed  all  iifborn  feeling  for  true  art  and  beauty. 

Literature. — For  English  pottery,  sec  Jewitt,  Ceramic  Art  of  Great  Britain, 
1877 ;  Solon,  Old  English  Fatter,  1883 ;  Owen,  Ceramic  Art  in  Bristol,  1873 ; 
Wallis  and  Bemrose,  Pottery  of  Derbyshire,  1S70 ;  Mayer,  Art  of  Pottery  hi 
Liverpool,  1835  ;  'iinns,  Polt'uirj  in  Worcester  from  1751  to  1S5I,  18(35  ;  Church, 
Catalogue  of  English  Pottery,  1870  :  some  of  these  works  deal  more  witli  porce- 
lain than  potteiy. 

Section  XV. — Ancient  JIexican,  Peruvian,  &c. 

The  pottery  of  ancient  Mexico  and  Peru,  certainly  older 
than  the  Spanish  conquests  in  America,  and  possibly  dating 
from  a  much  more  remote  age,  has  many  points  of  interest. 
Large  quantities  in  good  preservation  have  been  discovered 
in  the  tombs  of  chiefs  and  other  important  persons  of  those 
once  powerful  and  (in  a  somewhat  barbaric  way)  artistic 
races.  Much  of  their  pottery  is  grotesque  and  even  hideous 
in  sliape,  modelled  in  the  forms  of  semi-human  monsters ; 
it  is  often  made  of  a  hard  black 
clay,  well  burned,  something 
like  the  early  black  wares  of 
Etruria.  Another  kind  is  grace- 
ful and  natural  in  shape,  formed 
wth  great  taste  and  skill  on  the 
potter's  wheel.  Many  of  the 
forms  seem  to  have  been  sug- 
gested by  vessels  madeof  gourds. 
The  decoration  is  very  curious  ; 
many  of  the  simple  painted 
patterns  with  geometrical  de- 
signs and.  hatched  lines  call  to 
mind  theearliest typeof  painted  f'«-  66.— Ancient  Peruvian  vcs- 
decoratiou  on  the  archaic  pot-  "'•  '  ^^"^"^  Museum.) 
tery  of  Mycenre  and  the  Greek  islands.  The  clay  is  fine  in 
texture  and  has  a  slight  surface-gloss,  apparently  the  re-. 


suit  of  mechanical  polishing.  Fig.  66  shows  a  typical 
form.i  The  Britisli  Museum  has  a  good  collection  of  this 
ware.  The  natives  of  Arizona  and  other  uncivilized  races 
of  America  even  now  make  simple  pottery  decorated  witji 
taste  and  true  decorative  feeling. 

Section  XVI. — Pottery  and  PoECEtiiN  OE  China 

AND    jAP.iN. 

In  the  methods  of  treatment  employed  in' China  and 
Japan  the  usual  distinctions  between  pottery  (earthenware) 
and  porcelain  (kaolinic  ware)  are  not  always  observed.  In 
many  cases  these  two  different  materials  are  treated  in 
exactly  the  same  way  and  decorated  after  the  same  fashion. 
It  will  therefore  be  convenient  to  describe  them  both 
together. 

History  of  CJdnese  Porcelain. — The  chronological  arrruige- 
ment  of  Chinese  wares  is  a  matter  of  great  difficulty.  Many 
of  the  professedly  historical  records  of  the  Chinese  them- 
selves are  quite  untrustworthy;  as  with  all  other  arts,  they 
have  claimed  for  the  manufacture  of  porcelain  an  antiquity 
far  beyond  the  actual  facts  of  the  case.  This  exaggerated 
estimate  of  the  antiquity  of  Chinese  porcelain  was  for  a 
long  time  supported  by  the  supposed  discovery  in  Egypt 
of  certain  small  bottles  made  of  real  porcelain,  and  in- 
scribed with  Chinese  characters,  which  were  said  to  have 
been  found  in  tombs  at  Thebes  dating  as  early  as  1800 
B.C.  The  fact,  however,  that  they  are  inscribed  with 
quotations  from  Chinese  poets  of  the  8th  century  A.D., 
and  have  characters  of  a  comjjaratively  modern  form,  shows 
that  the  whole  story  of  their  discovery  is  a  fraud.  The 
only  native  work  which  gives  trustworthy  information  on 
the  development  of  Chinese  porcelain  is  a  History  of  the 
Manufactory  of  King-te-chin,  compiled  from  earlier  records 
in  1815  by  a  native  official,  which  was  translated  into 
French  by  !M.  Julien,  under  the  title  Histoire  de  la  Fabri- 
cation de  la  Porcelaine  Chinoise  (Paris,  1856).  Accord- 
ing to  this  work,  the  manufacture  of  pottery  is  said  to 
have  commenced  in  2G97  B.C.,  and  that  of  porcelain  during 
the  Han  dynasty,  206  B.C.  to  25  a.d.  The  Tsin  dynasty 
(265-419  A.D.)  was  remarkable  for  its  blue  porcelain,  and 
the  Suy  dynasty  (581-618  a.d.)  for  its  fine  green  ware. 
One  of  the  most  celebrated  kinds  of  porcelain  was  that 
made  about  954  a.d.,  deep  sky-blue  in  colour,  very  glossy 
in  texture,  extremely  thin,  and  sounding  musically  when 
struck.  Even  small  fragments  of  it  are  treasured  up  by 
the  Chinese,  and  set  like  jewels.  Most  dynasties  seem 
to  have  been  famed  for '  a  special  variety  of  porcelain. 
The  earlier  sorts  appear  not  to  iave  been  decorated  with 
painting,  but  were  all  of  one  rich  colour.  Decorative 
painting  did  not  apparently  come  into  general  use  before 
the  Yuen  dynasty  of  Mongols  (1260-1368),  and  was  brought 
to  great  perfection  under  the  ]\Iings  (136S-1644).  The 
porcelain  of  the  last-named  dynasty  is  classified  in  periods, 
four  of  which  (from  1426  to  1567)  were  greatly  esteemed. 
Probably  few  specimens  of  Chinese  porcelain  known  in 
Europe  are  earlier  in  date  than  the  time  of  Kang-he,  the 
second  emperor  of  the  Tsing  dynasty  (1061-1722).  During 
all  periods  Chinese  potters  were  constantly  in  the  habit  of 
copying  eailicr  styles  and  of  forging  their  marks,  .so  that 
very  little  reliance  can  be  placed  on  internal  evidence. 
Indeed,  the  foi-gories  often  deceive  the  Chinese  collectors 
of  old  porcelain. 

Manufacture  of  Porcelain. — It  is  made  from  two.  sul>- 
stances,  "pe-tun-tse"  and  "kao-lin";  the  latter  is  a 
white  pasty  substance  derived  from  the  decomposition  of 
felspathic  rocks  such  as  granite.  It  is  a  hydrated  .silicati 
of  alumina  (Al.^0,,.  2Si02-t- 2H2O),  and  derives  its  nami 
from  a  hill  near  King-tih-chin,  where  it, was  first  found 
(see   Kaolin).     The  precise  nature  of  pe-tun-tse  is  no* 

'  Sec  Rivero  and  Von  Tschudi.  Atiliijuedadea  I'ciitunas,  1851. •' 


634 


r  0  T  T  E  R  \ 


[CHINESE  PORCELAINV 


■»hS'« 


exactly  known,  but  it  appears  to  resemble  kaolin,  with 
the  addition  of  a  considerable  proportion  of  free  silica. 
The  result  of  their  mixture  is  sho^v^l  in  the  following 
analysis  by  M.  Laurent  of  the  body  of  white  Chinese 
porcelain — silica  70-5  per  cent.,  alumina  20'7,  potash  6, 
lime  0'5,  protoxide  of  iron  0'8  per  cent.,  magnesia  a  trace. 
The  white  pastes  of  which  the  porcelain  is  made  are  very 
carefully  washed,  finely  ground,  and  mixed  in  due  pro- 
portion. The  paste  is  "  thrown  "  on  the  potter's  wheel  in 
the  usual  way  and  set  to  dry ;  its  coloured  decoration  is 
then  applied,  and  over  that  the  transparent  glaze  is  laid. 
This  is  a  very  hard  and  beautiful  substance,  which  requires 
great  heat  to  fuse  it ;  it  is  made  of  almost  pure  felspar 
with  an  alkaline  flux.  It  is  finely  ground  with  water,  and- 
either  blown  with  a  pipe  on  to  the  vessel  or  the  vessel 
ia  dipped  into  it.  The  porcelain  is  next  packed  in  clay 
boxes  or  "  saggers,"  piled  one  above  another  in  the  kiln, 
in  order  to  protect  it  from  discoloration  from  the  smoke. 
After  the  kiln  has  been  heated  for  a  considerable  time  to 
a  very  high  temperature,  the  fire  is  withdrawn ;  and  the 
porcelain  is  allowed  to  cool  slowly  in  the  clay  saggers 
before  the  kiln  is  opened  and  its  contents  removed. 
Additional  decoration  is  frequently  added  over  the  glaze, 
generally  in  enamel  colours,  applied  thickly  so  as  to  stand 
out  in  perceptible  relief ;  gilding  is  also  added  over  the 
glaze.  The  porcelain  is  afterwards  fired  a  second  time  in 
a  more  open  kiln,  and  at  a  lower  temperature. 

The  methods  of  decoration  on  Chinese  porcelain  are  ex- 
tremely varied,  and  are  applied  with  the  most  skilful  hand 
and  wonderful  fertility  of  design;  but  they  are  always 
dainty  and  feebly  pi-etty  rather  than  artistic,  except 
when  there  is  a  Persian  element  present.  The  Chinaman 
is  a  born  maker  of  graceful  toys,  full  of  ingenuity  and 
perfect  deftness  of  touch,  but  hardly  worthy  to  be  classed 
as  a  producer  of  serious  works  of  art.  The  general  forms 
of  the  porcelain  are  mostly  feeble,  and  often  of  extreme 
ugliness,  while  the  skill  in  drawing  is  mostly  confined 
to  representations  of  flowers,  some  of  which,  especially  the 
chrysanthemum  and  the  pwony,  are  painted  with  great 
truth  and  enjoyment.  With  the  beauties  of  the  human 
form  the  Chinaman  has  no  acquaintance  or  sj'mpathy,  and 
he  never  possessed  the  wonderful  skill  of  the  Japanese 
in  the  delineation  of  animals  and  birds. 

Only  a  few  chief  examples  among  the  many  meinoas  of 
decorative  treatment  can  be  mentioned  here.  A  useful 
classification  has  been  adopted  by  Mr  A.  \V.  Fi-anks  in  his 
valuable  catalogue  of  his  own  collection  of  porcelain,  for- 
merly exhibited  at  Bethnal  Green,  and  now  (1885)  in  the 
British  Museum. 

1.  Plain  while,  of  a  delicate  ivory  colour  and  a  rich  satin-like 
glaze.  Some  of  it  is  crackled,  not  accidentally,  but  by  a  careful 
process,  one  of  the  methods  of  which  is  this.  Powdered  steatite 
IS  mixed  with  the  materials  of  the  felspathic  glaze,  and  the  porce- 
lain vessel  or  statuette,  after  the  glaze  is  applied,  but  before  firing, 
is  set  in  the  rays  of  a  hot  sun,  which  causes  it  to  be  covered  with 
a  network  of  fine  cracks,  going  through  the  skin  of  glaze  down  to 
the  porcelain  body.  Red  pigment  or  black  Chinese  ink  is  then 
rubbed  into  the  minute  cracks,  which  are  thus  made  more  con- 
•picuoiis,  and  prevented  from  quite  closing  f, 
Up^  in  the  heat  of  the  kiln.  Many  speci-  ; 
mens  have  two  sets  of  crackle,  first  the  I 
coloured  cracks  produced  before  firing,  and  i 
secondly  an  intermediate  uncoloured  set,  ! 
produced  in  the  glaze  by  the  action  of  the  » . 
kiln  (see  fig.  67).  Jtost  of  this  white  ware  * 
is  decorated  with  delicate  surface-reliefs  of  i 
flowers  or  figures  very  sharply  moulded.  ; 
Old  specimens  of  it  are  now  highly  valued 
in  china.  It  was  frequently  copied  in  the 
tarly  European  porcelain  manufactories, 
T  b  as  Saint  Cloud,  Meissen,  and  Chelsea. 

•^    Porcelain   emercd  vnth  one   .Ejimnc/ ""• .  °'-— V'}"'*,"'    '"'P 
Colour.- Enamels  of  man>  varieties  of  tint      w*  "'"'kle  glaze. 
»nd  great  brilliance  were  used  :  the  finest  are  blue,  from  copper  oi 
cobalt ;  deep  red,  aiiolhei  oxide  of  coiiper ;  yellow,  antimouiate  of 


lead  ;  and  black,  oxides  of  iron  and  manganese.  One  of  the  most 
beautiful  is  that  sea-green  tint  called  "celadon,"  which  was  early 
exported  into  England,  and  highly  valued  in  mediaeval  times  from 
its  supposed  property  of  changing  colour  at  the  contact  of  poison. 
New  College,  Oxford,  possesses  a  bowl  of  this  ware,  mounted  in 
silver  richly  worked,  of  about  1500  A.D.,  and  presented  to  tho- 
college  by  Archbishop  Warham  early  in  the  16th  century.  A  speci- 
men of  this  celadon  ware  is  probably  referred  to  among  the  list  of 
new-year's  gifts  to  Queen  Elizabeth  as  "  a  cup  of  grene  pursselyne  " 
given  by  Robert  Cecil.  The  fine  old  yellow  porcelain  was  only  made 
Ibr  the  use  of  the  emperor  of  China,  and  it  is  consequently  rare  ;  it 
is  very  thin  and  trausparent,  almost  like  a  vitreous  enamel.  Some 
of  the  Chinese  enamelled  wares  are  made  of  pottery,  not  of  porce- 
lain ;  earthenware,  in  many  cases,  was  equally  good  for  the  purpose, 
as  the  body  of  the  vessel-  was  hidden  by  the  coloured  enamel. 

3.  Porcelain  decorated  teith  several  £namc!s  or  Glazes  o/ different 
Colours. — This  ware  is  ^i^b^ 

frequently  pioulded  in  /^ ^L 

relief,     with     dragons,  ~ 

flowers,  or  various  ani- 
mals, picked  (Alt  in  dif- 
ferent colours,  often  verj 
harsh  and  gaudy  in 
effect.  Fig.  68  shows  a 
pilgrim -bottle  painted 
in  enamel  colours.  The 
beauty  both  of  form  and 
of  decoration  for  whicb 
this  piece  is  very  re- 
markable is  mainly  due 
to  Persian  influence. 

4.  Porcelain  paiTiied 
in  White  Enanul  over 
a  Ground  of  Coloured 
Enamel.  — This  is  a  very 
decorative  sort  of  ware  ; 
the  designs,  such  as 
flowers,  birds,  and  in- 
sects,are  applied  thickly 
in  the  white  pigment, 
and  are  sometimes  care- 
fully modelled  in  low- 
relief.    The  method  was 

largely  imitated  by  the  ,  „ , 

Persians  (see  p.  620  ^i°- ^^•~*-"^'^'''*  P''S"™-^*^'''P''"'**°  ^'° 
above).  enamel  colours ;  Persian  style. 

5.  Porcelain  painted  only  in  Blue.  — This  is  really  the  most  artistic  Blue, 
and  highly  decorative  of  all  the  varieties  of  Chinese  painted  wares. 
Some  of  the  large  plates  and  jars  have  very  good  designs,  treated 

in  a  not  too  realistic  manner.  i)Iuch  of  the  finest  porcelain  of  this 
class  both  in  form  and  decoration  shows  a  strong  Persian  influence, 
the  result  of  the  intercourse  between  China  and  Persia  and  the 
visit  of  Chinese  potters  to  Ispahan  mentioned  above  in  the  account 
of  Persian  pottery.  Nanking  porcelain,  painted  with  the  so-called 
"hawthorn  pattern,"  really  a  kind  of  Prunus  which  produces  its 
blossoms  before  its  leaves,  was  largely  imported  into  England  during 
the  last  century,  and  now  fetches  very  exorbitant  prices.  Unluckily 
during  the  18th  century  a  great  deal  of  the  fine  blue  and  wliite 
china  brought  into  England  was  painted  over  the  glaze  with  harsh 
gaudy  colours  in  English  and  French  porcelain  manufactories,  to 
please  the  degraded  taste  of  the  time,  and  was  thus  completely 
spoiled.  Other  combinations  of  Chinese  and  European  work  occur. 
Sets  of  porcelain  were  painted  in  China  with  French  or  English 
designs  to  suit  the  European  market ;  or  plain  white  porcelain 
was  sent  from  China  to  be  decorated  at  Chelsea  or  Bow.  Very 
ludicrous  results  were  produced  in  some  cases  by  this  mixture  of 
style  ;  engravings  were  sent  from  Europe  to  be  copied  on  porcelaii> 
by  the  Chinese  potters,  who  have  in  many  cases  labou^usly  painted 
an  exact  facsimile  of  the  copper-plate  lines  with  all  f^ir  hatching* 
and  scratchy  look.  Some  of  these  were  done  for  Jesuit  missionaries 
in  China,  and  Chinese  plates  with  Catholic  sacred  subjects  and 
figures  of  saints  exist  in  considerable  quantities.  Statuettes  of  the- 
Madonna  were  also  made  in  China  for  the  missionaries,  carefully 
modelled  in  white  porcelain  after  European  originals  ;  some  appear 
to  be  copies  from  14th-century  French  ivory  figures,  and  (even  itt 
the  hands  of  the  Chinese  potter)  ha^■e  preserved  a  strong  resem- 
blance to  their  mediaeval  original.  The  type  of  the  Holy  Mother 
thus  introduced  appears  to  have  been  adopted  by  the_  Chinese 
Buddhists  as  a  fitting  representation  of  their  goddess  Kwan-lin, 
many  figures  of  whom  were  made  with  but  little  alteration  from 
the  statuettes  of  the  Catholic  Madonna.'  , 

6.  Porcelain  painted  in  many  Colours  under  the  Glaze. — This 
very  largo  class  includes  all  varieties  of  form  and  decoration.  The 
coloars  are  often  harsh  and  inharmonious,  and  the  more  ela_borat» 
figure-subjects  are  nearly  always  grotesqoe  and  ugly.     Additional 

1  See  Watkins  Old,  Indo-European  Porcelain  (Hereford,  1882). 


JAPANESE.] 


POTTERY 


635 


richness  of  efTect  is  often  given  by  the  over-glaze  colours,  added  by 
a  second  firing.  Many  other  varieties  might  be  mentioned,  but  the 
student  must  be  referred  for  further  information  to  the  list  of  works 
on  this  subject  given  below. 

Both  [lottery  and  porcelain  have  been  used  on  a  large  scale  for 
architectural  purposes  in  China.  The  so-called  "porcelain  tower" 
of  Nanking  was  the  most  prominent  example.  It  was  a  very  ela- 
borate structure  (see  Nanking),  mostly  constructed  of  pottery 
covered  with  enamels  of  different  colours.  The  usual  name  is 
misleading,  as  only  the  wliite  portions  were  of  real  porcelain. 
The  Jermyn  Street  and  British  Jluseuius  have  specimens  of  its 
bncks  and  elaborate  architectural  features. 

Japanese  Pottery  and  Porcelain. — In  the  main  the 
technical  methods  used  in  Japan  and  the  styles  of  painted 
ornament  were  introduced  from  China,  and  also  to  a  less 
extent  from  the  adjacent  peninsula  of  Corea  Glazed 
pottery  ■nas  first  made  at  Seto  about  1230  a.d.  by  a 
potter  who  had  visited  China.  Porcelain  manufacture 
was  introduced  in  a  similar  way  into  the  province  of 
>ane8e  Hizen  about  1513.  On  the  whole  the  Japanese  are  more 
'*'7-  remarkable  for  their  skill  and  almost  endless  methods  in 
the  production  of  pottery  than  of  porcelain.  No  people 
ever  approached  them  for  marvellous  fertility  of  invention 
and  skill  in  the  manipulation  of  all  sorts  of  clay,  pastes, 
enamel.s,  and  pigments.  One  of  the  most  remarkable 
characteristics  of  Japanese  pottery  is  its  wonderful  success 
in  the  imitation  of  all  kinds  of  materials  and  texture  of 
surface,  one  great  object  apparently  being  to  make  it  re- 
semble anything  rather  than  what  it  really  is.  Wood,  with 
its  varying  colours  and  delicate  grain,  ivory,  bronze,  lac, 
marble,  basket-work,  fruits,  and  countless  other  substances 
are  imitacted  in  Japanese  pottery  with  the  most  perfectly  de- 
ceptive effects.  The  utmost  amount  of  labour  and  patience 
is  often  spent  with  this  one  object,  any  notions  of  real 
artistic  beauty  being  apparently  never  even  considered. 

A  great  deal  of  Japanese  ceramic  ware  is  simply  copied 
from  Chinese  porcelain,  and  often  has  forged  Chinese 
marks.  It  is  very  difficult  to  find  out  what  notions  the 
Japanese  themselves  really  have  as  to  what  is  admirable 
in  pottery.  A_purely  arclia;ological  interest  in  old  sorts 
of  ware  appears  to  affect  them  strongly,  and  they  often 
put  the  highest  value  on  what  appears  a  very  ordinary 
and  rudely-made  kind  of  pottery  As  Mr  A.  W.  Franks 
has  pointed  out  in  his  introduction  to  a  native  report  on 
Japanese  pottery,  published  by  the  Science  and  Art  Depart- 
ment, 1880,  the  high  value  which  they  put  on  rude  speci- 
mens of  glazed  pottery  is  partly  kept  up  by  the  existence 
of  certain  curious  old  tea-drinking  ceremonies,  solemnly 
performed  as  if  they  were  religious  rites.  Everything  used 
and  every  detail  of  the  performance  were  strictly  prescribed 
by  rule.  The  bowl  or  cup  out  of  which  the  tea  was  drunk 
by  the  guests  was  to  be  an  archa;ological  curiosity  remark- 
able for  its  age,  not  for  any  intrinsic  merit.  Some  of  these 
cups  which  have  been  brought  to  Europe  are  of  coarse  clay, 
ill-formed,  thick,  highly  glazed,  and  quite  without  orna- 
ment. One  in  the  Sivres  Museum,  said  to  bo  Seto  ware 
of  the  14th  century,  is  made  of  mottled  yellowi.sh  brown 
clay,  with  a  thick  vitreous  glaza  It  looks  quite  worthless, 
•  but  has  evidently  been  highly  valued  by  its  Japanese  owner, 
for  it  has  a  beautifully  made  ivory  lid,  and  is  protected  by 
three  cases, — first,  fine  white  silk  with  gold  cord ;  second, 
a  box  of  poli.shed  bamboo ;  and,  outside  of  all,  a  case  of 
figured  linen  lined  with  silk.  Others  of  these  precious  tea- 
bowls  are  red,  purple,  black,  or  grey,  all  very  thick  and 
loarse,  but  highly  glazed,  and  carefully  fitted  into  silk  cases. 

Some  of  tlie  Japanese  methods  for  the  decoration  of 
pottery  p,re  simple  and  effective,  especially  a  ware  made 
of  grey  clay  with  incised  patterns — birds,  flowers,  and  the 
like — filled  in  with  white  paste,  and  the  whole  glazed, — 
similar  in  method  to  the  16th-century  Oiron  ware. 

The  most  magnificent  sort  of  pottery  is  the  Satsnma 
ware,  originally  introduced  from  Corea.     It-  waa  at  first 


manufactured  in  a  private  factory  belonging  to  the  prinoe 
of  Satsuma,  but  afterwards  produced  ior  public  sale.  The 
most  highly-decorated  kinds  with  many  colours  were  not 
made  till  the  end  of  the  18th  centtury.  In  minute  richness 
it  is  probably  the  most  elaborate  ware  ever  produced.  The 
body  is  a  fine  ivory-white  clay,  covered  with  a  minutely 
crackled  glaze.  Over  this,  miniature -like  paintings  of 
human  figures  or  flowers  are  executed  in  brilliant  enamel 
colours,  some  of  which  stand  out  like  jewelled  reliefs.  It 
is  further  decorated  wioh  delicately  moulded  patterns  in 
gold,  and,  though  very  weak  in  real  decorative  effect,  is 
a  marvel  of  rich  workmanship.  Most  of  the  so-called 
Satsuma  now  sold  is  a  poor  imitation  of^  the  ware,  and  ia 
made  in  great  quantities  at  Awata  and  Ota. 

It  should  be  observed  that  nearly  all  the  very  elaborate 
and  magnificent  methods  of  ceramic  decoration  now  ao 
much  employed  by  the  Japanese  are  of  quite  moJem 
origin ;  before  the  present  century  the  simpler  methods  of 
China  were  almost  exclusively  followed  in  Japan.  During 
the  last  century  great  quantities  of  porcelain,  chiefly  deco- 
rated in  gold,  green,  and  a  rich  red,  were  made  expressly 
for  export,  and  largely  brought  into  Europe,  where  they 
were  frequently  copied,  especially  in  the  porcelain  works  ol 
Dresden  and  the  early  china  manufactories  of  England. 

The'  Japanese  have  little  or  no  sense  of  the  best  kind 
of  decorative  art ;  their  paintings  of  flowers  or  birds\ 
beautiful  as  they  are,  are  mostly,  as  it  were,  flimg  across 
the  vessel  they  are  meant  to  ornament  without  any 
regard  to  its  shape  or  the  space  to  be  occupied.  Like  the 
Chinese,  they  have  no  feeling  fo;  he  beauty  of  the  humau 
form,  or  even  of  some  of  the  nobler  animsils,  such  as  the 
horse.  The  figures  most  frequently  represented  on  theii 
ceramic  wares — the  seven  gods  of  good  fortime — are  all 
grotesquely  hideous ;  and  downright  ugliness  of  the  most 
repulsive  sort  is  often  selected  and  treated  with  wonderful 
ingenuity.  Many  of  the  paintings  have  a  symbolical 
meaning ;  emblems  of  longevity  (considered  by  the  Japanese 
the  chief  of  all  blessings)  are  perhaps  the  favourite,  such 
as  the  sacred  tortoise,  the  crane,  or  the  combination  of 
three  trees — the  fir,  the  plum,  and  the  bamboo — all  of 
which  have  this  special  meaning. 

Within  the  present  century  a  new  and  elaborate  method 
of  decorating  porcelain  has  been  practised  iu  Japan,  the 
chief  object  of  which  seems  to  be  to  make  a  porcelain  vessel 
look  like  a  metal  one.  Brass  cloisonn6  enamel  is  applied 
to  the  outer  surface  of  porcelain  vases  or  bowls ;  the  strip* 
of  brass  set  on  edge  which  form  the  outline  of  the  design, 
instead  of  being  soldered  to  a  metal  plate,  are  fixed  in  som» 
almost  incomprehensible  fashion  to  the  surface  of  the  porc» 
lain,  and  then  the  compartments  are  filled  in  with  coloured 
enamels  and  fired  in  the  usual  way, — a  marvel  of  technical 
skill  and  wasted  ingenuity. 

Collections  of  Chinese  and  Japanese  Porcelain.. — The  Drssden 
collection  is  the  most  importoint  historically,  having  been  formed 
chiefly  between  1694  and  ITOO.  The  Biitish  Museum  is  rich 
through  the  recent  munilicunee  of  Mr  A.  W.  Fninka,  who  haa 
presented  to  it  the  whole  of  his  fine  collection.  The  South  Kensing- 
ton Museum  and  the  museuma  at  Leydcn,  The  Ilajfuo,  and  SiWre* 
are  rich  in  these  wares,  as  aro  also  those  al  Vienna.  Berlin,  and  St 
Pet«r8burg. 

LiUraiure.— For  Chinese  and  Japanese  porcelain,  see  Jacnnsmnrt  mod  L« 
BUnt,  HUloirt  tie  la  Poreelatne,  1861-62  ;  Jaci|Ueiiiart,  Itittoirt*  df  la  C*mmitj\tm, 
1873  ;  Audalfy  UMcl  hfytn,  Krranric  Arl  <i/ Juj^tn,  lts76-80,  l»i  8i>rt<'l,  Id /'un» 
tainf  de  Chine,  IhSl  ;  Oraf  8hi\  Catatoff  dfr  fc.  Purtrltan-  nnk  G^Jiun-Sammlung  t% 
I>Taden,ii7i;  SixMna  JaWtn,  llUloirnU  la  PomlalmdlCklnt.Xibi,  Fr.mk^ 
C<tl.  oi  Colt.  0/  (irlenial  I'omlain,  1878,  and  "JapancM  Potter}',"  In  Uouti 
KelulDgtcIl  Huxuni  Handbook,  1880. 

Section  XVIL — Poeoelain  rx  Etrnopa 

Early  Davdopment. 

In  various  places  in  Europe,  especially  in  Italy  and 

France,  attempta  to  produce  translucent  porcelain  like  that 

produced  by  the  Chinese  were  almost  continually  bein^ 

made  from  the  ead  of  the  Ifith  century  down  to  th» 


636 


POTTERY 


[porcelain 


beginning  of  the  15th.  The  word  "porcelain"  is  usually 
derived  from  the  Italian  "  porcellana,"  a  white  shell,  to 
the  smooth  polished  surface  of  which  the  Chinese  wares 
bear  some  resemblance.  Hence  it  should  be  observed  that 
in  mediieval  inventories  "a  cup  of  porcelain"  often  means 
one  made  ot  shell  or  mother-of-pearl.  In  Italy  the  finer 
sorts  of  majolica  were  often  called  "porcellana,"  and  a 
plate  decorated  "alia  porcellana  "  meant  one  with  a  special 
style  of  painting,  and  did  not  refer  to  its  material.  During 
mediaeval  times,  when  real  Eastern  porcelain  is  meant,  some 
other  word  expressing  where  it  came  from  was  frequently 
added,  t.g.,  in  French  15th-century  inventories  "porcelains 
de  Sinant"is  sometimes  mentioned.  From  the  13th  to 
the  15th  century  Chinese  porcelain  was  very  sparingly 
brought  into  Europe,  and  generally  occurs  among  royal 
possessions  or  gifts  as  an  object  of  great  value.  The  name 
"china,"  from  the  country  where  porcelain  was  made,  was 
given  to  it  not  later  than  the  16th  century,  and  perhaps 
earlier,  having  been  used  by  the  Arabs  long  before  :  "  china 
dishes"  are  mentioned  by  Shakespeare  {Measure  for  Mea- 
sitre,  act  ii.,  scene  i.)  as  being  things  of  value. 

The  main  reason  of  the  very  slight  success  gained  for 
so  many  years  in  the  attempts  to  make  porcelain  in 
Europe  was  the  fact  that  it  was  regarded  as  a  highly  arti- 
fieial  substance,  something  between  pottery  and  glass ;  the 
many  beds  of  kaolinic  clays  which  e.xist  in  Europe  were 
never  thought  of  as  being  the  true  material  of  which  to 
make  it,  or,  if  used  at  all,  were  only  employed  partially 
and  in  an  accidental  way.  The  earliest  attempts  at  the 
production  of  translucent  porcelain  which  had  any  practical 
success  took  place  at  Venice  about  1470.^  An  alchemist 
named  Antuonio  succeeded  in  making  and  firing  in  a 
kiln  at  San  Simone,  near  Venice,  "  porcelane  trasparenti 
e  vaghissime,"  described,  in  a  document  dated  1470,  as 
being  as  beautiful  in  glaze  and  colour  as  "  the  porcelain 
from  barbarous  countries."  Difficulties,  however,  seem  to 
have  arisen,  and  the  manufacture  was  not  proceeded  with 
till  1504,  when  a  few  sample  specimens  were  made  in 
Venice,  and  'others  again  in  a  spasmodic  way  in  1518 
and  1519.  No  specimens  of  the  early  Venetian  porce- 
lain are  now  known,  nor  any  pieces  of  the  porcelain 
made  at  Ferrara  for  Duke  Alphonso  II.  about  1565-67 
by  Giulio  da  Urbino,  and  mentioned  with  high  praise 
by  Vasari.2  The  composition  of  this  earhest  European 
porcelain  is  not  known,  but  it  probably  was  partly  made 
of  the  white  clay  of  Vicenza — a  true  kaolinic  paste- 
often  used  'by  the  majolica  potters  to  give  whiteness  and 
fine  grain  to  their  clay. 

Medici  Porcelain. — ^The  earliest  manufactory  of  porcelain 
of  which  known  specimens  exist  is  that  started  in  Florence, 
for  Francesco  I.  de'  Medici,  about  the  years  1575-80  by 
Bernardo  Buontalenti  (see  Vasari).  Francesco  de'  Medici 
took  the  greatest  interest  in  the  manufacture,  and,  as  is 
recorded  by  Galluzzi  (Istoria  di  Toscana,  1781),  moulded 
stime  of  the  vessels  with  his  own  hands,  as  compliment- 
ary .  presents  to  other  princes.  According  to  Galluzzi, 
Buontalenti  did  little  more  than  improve  on  the  method 
invented  a  few  years  earlier  by  the  majolica  potters 
Camillp  ■  da  UrbLno  and  Orazio  Fontana,  assisted  by  a 
Greek  who  had  learned  the  secret  of  true  porcelain  in 
China.  The  discovery  of  the  existing  specimens  of  Medici 
porcelain  is  due  to  Alessandro  Foresi,  who  observed  its 
peculiar  texture  and,  in  some  cases,  slight  transparency, 
and  found  pieces  marked  at  the  back  in  a  vyay,  that 
quite  cpnfirmed  his  theory.^  These  marks  are  the;Medic" 
arms,  with  its  "palle"  or  balls,  inscribed  with  "F.  M.  M. 
E.  D.  II. "  for  "  Franciscus  Medici  Magnus  Etruriae  Dux 

'  See  Davillier,  Les  Origines  de  la  Porcflaine  en  Europe,  1882. 

?  Lives  *of  Artists,  last  section, 

*  See  Feresij  guilt  Porcdlant  Mtdicee,  1869. 


,i^ 


II."  Some  pieces  have  a  rude  representation  of  the  great 
dome  of  the  Florentine  cathedral,  and  the  letter  "  F. "  for, 
"Florentia"  (see  No.   22).      Scarcely  forty  ^ 

specimens  of  the  ware  are  known,  which  are 
mostly  in  the  possession  of  the  Rothschilds 
and  Mr  Drury  Fortnum,  in  the  royal  collec- 
tion at  Lisbon,  and  the  museums  of  South _^  Val  ■  iLff 
Kensington  and  Sevres.     They  are  all  of  a  /;J;i,/r.,iin;{vi{at 
slightly  creamy  white,  with  a  beautiful  pearly 
texture,  due  to  the  rich  glaze  and  the  slight 
transparency  of  their  paste  ;  the  glaze  varies 
in  thickness,  and  in  some  instances  is  slightly  Potter's  mark, 
crackled.     Nearly  all  are  simply  decorated  in  ' 

cobalt  blue,  under  the  glaze  ;  the  designs  are  of  various 
styles,  some  purely  Italian,  others  Persian  or  Chinese  in 
character ;  a  few  have  one  flower  painted  in  the  middle  of 
the  space  in  a  graceful  and  almost  realistic  way.  A  plate 
at  Lisbon  has  a  figure  of  St  John  with  his  eagle.  Their 
forms  are  pilgrim-flasks,  plates,  ewers,  and  vases  of  differ^' 
ent  shapes,  some  very  graceful  and  original. 

The  earliest  dated  example  is  among  the  five  specimens 
in  the  Sfevres  Museum ;  it  is  a  square  bottle  with  the 
arms  of  Spain  painted  in  blue  and  a  few  touches  of  man- 
ganese purple;  the  date  1581  is  introduced  among  the 
ornaments  at  a  corner  of  the  bottle ;  it  was  probably  a 
gift  from  Francesco  I.  to  the  king  of  Spain.  The  com- 
position of  this  porcelain  has  recently  been  discovered 
from  a  contemporary  MS.  in  the  Magliabecchian  Library 
at  Florence.  The  paste  consisted  of  24  parts  of  white  sand, 
16  of  a  crystalline  frit  (powdered  rock-crystal  10,  and 
soda  8),  and  Faenza  white  earth  12  parts.  To  12  parts 
of  this  mixture  3  of  the  kaolinic  clay  of  Vicenza  were  to  be 
added.  Probably  to  secure  greater  whiteness,  the  vessels 
were  covered,  under  the  glaze,  with  a  white  enamel ;  but 
this  addition  appears  needless.  They  were  then  glazed 
with  an  ordinary  siUcious  lead  glaze.  Though  the  final 
result  has  the  beauty  and  some  of  the  special  qualities  of 
the  Chinese  natural  porcelain,  yet  it  will  be  observed  that 
this  end  was  gained  in  a  very  difficult  and  elaborate  manner, 
which  must  have  been  very  costly.  This,  no  doubt,  is  the 
reason  why  so  few  pieces  were  made,  and  why  its  manu- 
facture ceased  altogether  with  the  death  of  Francesco  de' 
Medici,  in  1587. 

After  the  Medici  ware  ceased  to  be  made  there  is  a  blank  Frencli 
of  nearly  a  century  in  the  history  of  European  porcelain.  pof«- 
In  1664  a  patent  was  granted  to  Claude  E,everend,  a  citizen 
of  Paris,  which  gave  him  the  privilege  of  making  "  imita- 
tion porcelain,  as  fine  as  that  from  the  East  Indies."  No 
known  specimens  can  be  attributed  with  certainty  to  his 
workshop,  though  some  pieces  which  bear  mark  No.  23 
may  have  come  from  his  hands.     In  1673  xfi. 

another  patent  was  conceded  to  Louis  Poterat,  r^ . 

who  certainly  did  produce  artificial 
porcelain  at  Rouen.     Some  small 
pieces,  salt-cellars   and   mustard- 
pots,  in  the  museums  of  Rouen     ^'°-  23.  No.  24. 
and  Sfevres,  are  attributed  to  him,            ^°""''  "="''"• 
and    are   therefore   the    earliest   undoubted    examples  of 
French  porcelain.     They  are  of  a  pearly  white  colour,  with 
rich  glaze,  not  unlike  the  Medici  porcelain  in  softness  of 
texture.     The  ornaments,  simple  and  delicate  arabesques, 
are  painted  under  the  glaze  in  cobalt  blue  only.     Some 
pieces  are  signed  with  No.  24. ' 

Saint  Cloud  was  the  next  place  in  France  where  porcelai;i 
was  produced,  the  manufactory  being  carried  on  by  the 
Chicanneau  family,  to  whom  a  privilege  was  granted  in 
1695.  The  patent  mentions  that  they  had  made  porcelain 
since  1693.  This  early  Saint-Cloud  porcelain  is  fine  ii; 
texture  and  glaze,  and  is  decorated  in  many  different  styles' 
it  is  pure  white,  moulded  with  slight  reliefs  cogied  from  t  e 


Iain, 


luis  Poterat,  7> 


eiiVEES.] 


POTTERY 


637 


(  11,  mariteu  wiiu  no.  ^o     raris, 


Chinese  ;  or  painted  in  many  bright  colours  and  gold  with 
Chinese  designs  ;  or  thirdly,  with  paintings  in  blues  only 
of  flowery  scroll-work  and  grotesques.     It  is  marked  either 
with  a  sun,  or  with  "S.  C."  combined  with  "T."  (see  No. 
25),  and  other  makers'  initials.     Martin  Lister,  physician 
to  Qneen  Anne,  in  an  account  of  his  travels  in     ^  ^^ 
France  during  1698,  mentions  a  visit  which     X^^^ 
he  paid  to  the  Saint^Cloud  porcelain  works,   yj     \^ 
and  speaks  with   great   admiration   of  their  i^— — ^» 
productions.      The   privilege  was  frequently        ^  I  ' 
renewed   during    the   first  half  of   the   18th  ^ 

(Century,    and    the    Saint-Cloud   manufactory  Potter's^mark. 
continued  to  be  the  most  important  in  France 
till  the  establishment  of  the  royal  manufactory  at  Sevres. 

Other  places  in  France  during  this  period,  from  1700 
to  1745,  produced  a  certain  quantity  of  artificial  porcelain. 
These  were  Lille,  from  1711,  marked  with  No.  26  •■  Paris, 
1722,   a  branch   of  the 
Saint-Cloud  works ;  and 
Chantilly,    from     1725. 
The  porcelain  of  Chan- 
tilly  was    specially   in- 
tended   to    imitate    old         No.  26.  No.  27. 
T                                r  ■^      L-u                          Potters  marks. 

Japanese  ware.  Like  the 

Medici  porcelain,  it  has  a  white  tin  enamel  over  the  paste. 
It  is  marked  with  a  hunting-horn  (see  No.  27)  and  painter's 
initials.  Porcelain  of  every  variety  of  style  was  also  made 
at  Mennecy-VOleroy  from  1735,  under  the  patronage  of  the 
duke  of  VUleroy,  with  whose  initials,  "  D.V.,"  all  the  pro- 
ductions of  the  manufactory  are  markpd.  All  these  early 
varieties  of  porcelain  were  of  the  artificial  or  soft  kind,  called 
by  the  French  "  porcelaine  k  p4te  tendre." 

Shn-es. 

Tlie  increasing  success  and  popularity  of  the  porcelain 
produced  in  Germany  and  England  induced  Louis  XV.  to 
CoLablish  a  private  royal  manufactory  of  porcelain,  which 
was  first  started  at  Vincennes,  with  a  privilege  granted  to 
Charles  Adam  and  others  in  1745.  In  1753  the  king 
himself  became  a  partner  in  the  works,  with  a  third  share 
in  the  property.  The  seat  of  the  manufactory  was  then 
transferred  to  Sevres,  and  the  official  title  was  assumed  of 
"  manufacture  royale  de  porcelaine  de  France."  Before 
1753  the  royal  porcelain  was  simply  marked  with  two 
crossed  L's  for  Loui.s,  but  from  that  year  a  date-letter  was 
made  compulsory, — A  for 
1753  (see  No.  28),  B  for 
1754,  and  so  on  till  1777, 
after  which  a  new  doubled 
alphabet  was  started  AA 
(see  No.  29),  BE,  &c. ;  this 
lasted  down  to  R  11(1793), 
and  then  a  less  regular 
series  of  marks  came  into  use.  Till  1792  the  date-letter 
was  put  between  the  crossed  L's,  but  in  that  year  the 
republic  substituiod  the  letter  R.  Later  variona  royal 
monograms  and  marks  were  used. 

Till  about  1770  all  French  porcelain  was  artificial  or 
"  soft "  (pdie  tendre) ;  the  discovery  of  kaolinic  clays  in 
Franco  then  brought  about  the  manufacture  of  natural 
hard  porcelain  (jidte  dure)  like  that  made  in  China  and 
Japan.  This  gradually  superseded  the  soft  kind,  which 
ceased  to  be  made  at  the  end  of  the  18th  century.  Its 
manufacture  has  recently  been  revived  at  Sivrcs  to  some 
slight  extent.  M.  Brongniart,  the  director  of  the  Sfcvres 
porcelain  works  from  1800  to  1847,  in  his  most  valuable 
Traits  des  Arts  Ccramiques  (1854),  gives  a  full  account  of 
the  materials  and  methods  used  at  Sfevres  during  all  periods. 
The  soft  porcelain  was  composed  of  white  sand  60  per 
cent.,  nitre  22,  common  salt  72,  alum  36,  soda  36,  and 


No.  28.  .         No.  29. 

Potters'  marks. 


gypsum  3 '6  per  cent.  This  compound  was  roasted  at  a 
high  temperature,  then  ground  to  a  fine  powder,  and 
washed  with  boiling  water.  To  nine  parts  of  this  mixture 
or  frit  two  parts  of  white  chalk  and  one  of  a  sort  of  pipe- 
clay were  added.  The  whole  was  again  ground,  and  passed 
several  times  through  a  fine  silk  sieve.  Water  was  added 
to  make  the  powder  into  a  paste,  and  it  was  then  fit  for 
the  thrower  on  the  wheel  or  the  moulder.  Owing  to  the 
■  very  unplastic  nature  of  this  elaborate  mixture,  black  soap 
and  size  or  glue  made  from  parchment  were  added  to  bind 
the  paste  together  under  the  moulder's  hands  The  glaze 
used  for  the  pdte  tendre  was  an  ordinary  silico-alkaline  glass, 
made  fusible  by  oxide  of  lead.  The  coloured  decorations 
and  gilding  were  added  after  the  firing  of  the  gfeze.  The 
hard  porcelain  is  made  of  natural  kaolinic  clays,  and  is 
glazed  with  almost  pure  felspar, — both  substances  very  hard 
and  infusible.  The  superior  softness  and  richness  of  effect 
possessed  by  the  p&tt  tendre  are  due  to  the  fact  that  the 
paintings  on  the  softer  and  more  fusible  glaze  sink  slightly 
into  it  under  the  heat  of  the  kiln,  and  are,  though  almost 
imperceptibly,  blended  one  with  another.  It  is  easy  to 
distinguish  the  two  pastes  and  glazes :  pieces  of  the  one 
kind  can  be  scratched  by  a  knife,  while  those  of  the  other 
resist  it.  Nevertheless  the  difierence  in  beauty  between  the 
two  kinds  of  porcelain  has  been  much  exaggerated,  and  the 
extravagant  prices  which  are  given  for  the  pdte  tendril  are 
greatly  due  to  its  rarity,  and  to  its  having  been  produced 
earlier  than  the  other.  The  whole  question,  in  fact,  of  the 
value  of  Sevres  porcelain  is  a  highly  artificial  and  conven- 
tional one,  which  can  hardly  be  considered  in  accordance 
with  the  ordinary  rules  or  canons  of  art.  Certain  special 
qualities  were  aimed  at,  such  as  brilliant  colours,  vrith  abso- 
lute smoothness  of  surface,  microscopic  delicacy  of  paint- 
ing, and  the  most  perfect  accuracy  and  neatness  of  execu- 
tion throughout ;  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  porc&- 
lain-makers  gained  their  object  with  the  blip  of  ingenuity, 
technical  skill,  and  unwearied  patience,  which  must  com- 
mand our  respect  and  even  admiration,  whatever  may  be 
our  verdict  as  to  the  artistic  result  of  their  labours.  Still, 
with  all  possible  allowances,  there  is  no  doubt  that  rarity, 
the  necessary  result  of  the  slow  and  laborious  processes 
employed,  is  the  chief  reason  for  the  extraordinary  value 
now  set  on  this  porcelain. 
The  £10,000  which  three 
flower-vases  of  pdte  tendre 
fetched  at  a  public  auction 
a  few  years  ago  can  be  ac- 
counted for  on  no  other  hypo- 
thesis. The  colours  of  Sfevres 
porcelain  are  generally  harsh, 
and  out  of  harmony  with  the 
pictures  they  surround ;  the 
forms  of  the  various  vessels 
too  are  frequently  very  un- 
graceful, and  utterly  unsuited 
to  any  plastic  substance. 

The  whole  of  this  porce- 
lain ware,  in  fact,  labouis 
under  the  serious  artistic  dis- 
advantage of  being  designed 
and  decorated  with  no  regard 
to  suitability  of  material  or 
method ;  the  elaborate  pic- 
ture-subjects would  have 
been  far  more  fit  for  ivory  pio.  69.— Sivito  vaao,  pattuiidn ; 
miniature-work, and  arequite  green  body  and  jut  imitation 
without  breadth  of  decorative  •"ounting.  (South  Eeniington 
efi'ect,  while  the  shapes  of  the  ""'O"") 
more  elaborate  vases  nre  often  deliberate  imitations  of  gold 
and  "  or  moulu,"  which  in  no  way  suggest  the  special  pro- 


638 


POTTERY 


[porcelain. 


perties  of  a  fictile  material  (see  fig.  69).  It  is  difficult  to 
realize  the  amount  of  thought  and  labour  that  was  spent 
'on  the  production  of  Sevres  porcelain.  The  chief  chemists 
'of  France  devoted  their  energies  to  the  invention  of 
brilliant  and  varied  pigments  which  would  stand  the 
severe  test  of  the  kiln.  The  works  of  the  best  painters 
were  used  for  reproduction  among  the  painted  decorations 
of  the  porcelain,  and  many  artists  of  real  talent  spent  their 
fives  in  painting  these  gaudy  toys — on  the  whole  a  sad 
waste  of  labour  and  skill. 

Sfevres  porcelain  made  for  actual  use,  such  as  tea-sets 
and  dessert-services,  are  usually  painted  with  flowers  or 
figure-subjects,  often  in  many  tints,  and  enriched  with 
gilding,  but  on  a  plain  white  ground.  It  is  the  purely 
decorative  pieces,  such  as  vases  and  flower-vessels,  that  are 
ornamented  with  the  greatest  splendour.  They  generally 
have  ptinels  with  pictures  on  a  white  ground  surrounded 
by' frames  of  gold  scroll-work  ;  the  main  body  of  the  piece 
is  covered  with  one  deep  or  brilliant  colour.  The  chief 
colours  are  r/ros  lien,  a  very  dark  blue ;  bleu  du  roi,  a  deep 
ultramarine;  a  brilliant  turquoise  blue;  a  bright  pink, 
the  favourite  colour  of  Madame  Pompadour,  but  generally 
called  "rose  Du  Barry";  a  bright  yellow,  a  violet,  and  three 
shades  of  green  were  also  used.  These  brilliant  colours 
are  often  further  decorated  with  gold';  a  ground  with  cir- 
cular groups  of  gold  spots  scattered  over  it  is  called  "ceil 
do  perdri.x";  other  kinds  of  diaper  were  also  used.  The 
most  gorgeous  variety  of  all  is  the  jewelled  Sevres,  not  made 
till  about  1780,  and  generally  having  a  ground  of  bleu  du 
roi  or  ultramarine.  It  is  richly  set  with  imitation  jewels, 
chiefly  turquoises,  pearls,  and  transparent  rubies,  made  of 
coloured  enamel  pastes,  hardly  to  be  distinguished  in  efl'eot 
from  real  stones.  They  are  set  in  gold,  slighUy  modelled 
in  actual  relief,  like  the  gilt  ornaments  on  the  richest  sort 
of  Japanese  Satsuma  wart 
Forma.  The  forms  of  Sevres  pi-ocelain  are  very  varied,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  great  use  of  plaster  moulds,  many  reproduc- 
tions of  the  same  design  were  rarely  produced.  Clocks, 
barometers,  and  various  other  objects  were  made  of  porce- 
lain and  richly  decorated,  and  also  painted  panels  or 
plaques  used  for  furniture, — always,  however,  with  most 
discordant  efl"cct.  Beautifully  modelled  statuettes  in  white 
biscuit  porcelain  were  made  by  some  of  the  ablest  sculptors 
of  the  18th  century;  these  usually  have  pedestals  elabo- 
rately gilt  and  painted.  Perhaps  the  worst  taste  of  all  is 
shown  in  some  of  the  vases  which  have  scrolls  and  sham 
metal-work  moulded  and  gilded  to  produce  the  efi"ect  of 
a  porcelain  vase  set  in  or  moulu  mounts,- — a  method  of 
so-called  decoration  which  was  much  imitated  at  Chelsea 
and  other  porcelain  works.  The  recent  "  -Jones  bequest  " 
to  the  South  Kensington  ifuseum  contains  a  large  variety 
of  the  most  costly  specimens  of  the  pdte  teiidre  of  Sevres 

Modcrji  Processes  of  Porcclain-maHnrj  fit  Sivrcs. — Since  the 
Fr.inco- Prussian  war  a  large  new  buililing  lias  been  constructoJ  for 
this  maiiulacturc,  with  imiirovcd  kilns,  ai-rangeil  in  the  most  com- 
inodioiis  way.  It  is  near  tlio  Seine,  at  the  entrance  to  the  park  of 
Saint  Cloud.  In  the  same  building  is  the  important  Ceramic 
Slusoum,  which  contains  the  finest  collection  of  French  porcelain 
of  all  periods,  and  also  a  laige  series  of  sliowrooms  for  the  exhibition 
of  the  modern  productions  of  the  manufactory.  About  250  hands 
(men  and  woiiien)  are  employed  in  the  work  ;  many  of  the  painter's 
and  modellers  are,  as  of  old,  artists  of  real  ability. 

Tlie  jjtllc  dure,  now  mainly  used,  is  composed  of  kaolinic  clay, 
mostly  from  Limousin,  but  also  imported  from  Cornwall ;  with  it 
is  mixed  a  proportion  of  white  chalk  and  fine  sand  (silica).  Each 
material  is  finely  ground  between  mill-stones,  and  carefully -washed 
by  being  agitated  with  water.  The  powder  is  allowed  to  settle, 
and  the  lighter  impurities  are  carried  off  by  decantatiou.  The 
various  ingredients  are  tlien  mixed  thoroughly  together  with  enongh 
water  to  bring  them  to  the  consistence  of  cream.  When  the  mixing 
process  is  complete  the  cream-like  fluid  is  run  off  into  absorbent 
plaster  troughs,  which  take  up  the  superfluous  water  and  leave  the 
compound  in  a  pasty  state.  The  paste  is  next  turned  over  fre- 
<ia«iitly  ou  a  floor  so  as  to  expose  the  whole  of  it  to  the  air,  and  it 


is  thoroughly  kneaded  like  baker's  dough  by  men's  feet  and  hands 
to  make  it  more  plastic  for  the  wheel  or  mould.  The  wheel  turned 
by  the  thrower's  foot  is  exactly  like  that  used  in  Egypt  under  the 
Ptolemies,  or  by  the  majolica  potters,  as  shoira  in  fig.  55.  While 
moulding  his  vessel  the  thrower  keeps  dipping  his  hands  into  a 
basin  of  fluid  paste  ("barbotine"  or  slip).  He  also  increases  the 
smoothness  of  surface  on  the  revolving  vessel  by  holding  a  sponge 
soaked  in  the  slip  between  his  fingers.  Vessels  of  which  a  number 
are  required  all  exactly  alike,  such  as  a  set  of  plates,  are  partly 
shaped  in  a  mould  and  partly,  formed  by  a  steel  "  template  "  or 
gauge.  The  thrower  forces  a  thin  disk  of  paste  over  a  convex  mould 
shaped  to  give  the  inside  of  the  plate  ;  he  then  sets  it,  mould  and 
all,  on  the  revolving  wheel,  and  a  steel  knife-like  gauge  shuts  down 
upon  it,  thus  forming  the  outside  or  back  of  the  plate,  which,  as  it 
revolves  against  the  edge,  has  all  superfluous  paste  scraped  from  it 
and  is  accurately  formed  into  the  required  shape.  When  the  plate 
or  other  vessel  has  been  shaped  it  is  allowed  to  dry,  and  is  finished 
by  being  turned  on  a  lathe  and  rubbed  smooth  with  sand-paper 
The  handles  and  all  projecting  ornaments  are  moulded,  or  rathei 
cast,  by  pouring  the  paste  in  a  fluid  state  into  piece-moulds  made 
of  plaster  of  Paris,  wliich  take  to  pieces  and  set  free  the  casting, 
which  is  then  fixed  on  the  vessel  it  belongs  to  with  a  little  more 
fluid  slip  used  as  a  "lute."  The  moulded  ornaments  are  afterwards 
carefully  finished  by  hand  with  ordinary  modelling  tools.  Even 
statuettes  and  groups  of  figures  are  cast  and  finished  in  this  way. 
The  vase  with  its  attached  ornaments,  after  being  thoroughly  dried, 
is  ready  for  the  first  firing. 

The  kilns  are  like  tall  circular  towers  tapering  towards  the  top,  Flrln*, 
about  10  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base  inside  ;  they  are  divided  into 
four  stories,  with  perforated  brick  vaults  between  thorn.  The  fire, 
fed  either  with  white  wood  or  coke,  is  in  the  lowest  story  ;  the 
chamber  next  to  the  fire  is  of  course  the  hottest,  and  the  top  ono 
the  least  hot  of  the  three.  Thc-se  difl"erent  degrees  of  heat  are 
utilized  according  to  the  temperature  required  for  each  firing. 
Thus  the  "raw"  vessels  fresh  from  the  wheel,  which  only  require 
a  moderate  heat  to  prepare  them  for  being  glazed,  are  piled  in  the 
highest  chamber,  and  those  that  are  being  glazed  in  the  lowest. 
In  order  to  keep  the  white  paste  from  being  discoloured  by  the 
smoke  the  porcelain  is  packed  in  round  porcelain  boxes  (called  in 
English  "saggers"),  which  fit  closely  one  upon  another  and  are 
arranged  in  high  piles.  The  various  clrambers  of  the  kilns  have 
small  openings,  closed  with  transparent  talc,  through  which  the 
progress  of  the  baking  can  be  watched,  and  test  bits  of  porcelain 
painted  with  carmine,  a  colour  that  changes  tint  according  to  the 
heat  it  is  subjected  to,  are  -withdrawn  from  time  to  time  to  show 
what  temperature  lias  been  reached.  As  a  rale  the  fire  is  kept  up 
for  about  thirty -six  houi-s,  and  the  kiln  with  its  contents  is  allowed 
from  four  to  six  days  to  cool  before  being  opened. 

After  the  first  firing  the  porcelain  is  in  the  biscuit  state,  and  is  Qlazini 
then  ready  for  the  glaze,  which  is  made  of  felspar  and  quartz  crystals  and  ile 
(pure  silica) ;  it  is  finely  ground  with  water,  and  the  porcelain  is  coratm 
dipped  into  it,  until  sufficient  of  the  fluid  mixture  adheres  to  the 
absorbent  biscuit  to  fonn  a  coat  of  glaze.     When  dry  it  is  fired 
for  the  second  time,  hut  in  the  lowest  and  hottest  compartment  of 
the  kiln,  this  natural  rock-glaze  being  very  infusible.    About  1600* 
C.  is  the  usual  temperature  for  this  process. 

The  painted  decoration  is  always  applied  over  the  glaze  ;  but 
within  recent  years  a  new  method  of  under-glaze  ornament  has  been 
much  used,  called  "p.lte  sur  pate,"  similar  in  method  to  the  "slip 
decoration  "  mentioned  above  under  several  diff'erent  heads.  The 
biscuit  ground  of  the  vase  is  first  tinted  a  uniform  colour,  and 
then  the  same  white  paste  of  which  the  porcelain  is  made  is  mixed 
with  water  and  applied  iu  successive  laj-ers  with  a  bnish,  thus  pro- 
ducing delicate  cameo-like  reliefs.  Veiy  beautiful  designs  of  figure- 
subjects  or  flowers  are  put  on  in  this  way,  and  additional  efl'ect  is 
gained  by  the  coloured  ground  shining  through  the  thinner  parts 
of  the  semi-transparent  white  reliefs.  The  whole  is  then  glazed  in 
the  usual  way.  To  return  to  the  painted  porcelain,  when  it  has 
come  from  the  second  firing  in  a  white  highly  glazed  state  it  is  ready 
for  the  painter.  Almost  endless  varieties  of  coloured  pigments  are 
gained  by  the  use  of  elaborately  prepared  chemical  compounds,  all 
different  salts  of  metals.  In  the- main  the  blues  are  from  cobalt, 
the  turquoise  colour  from  copper,  the  rose-pink  from  gold,  thegi'eeu 
from  chrome  and  copper,  and  the  \Tolets  from  manganese.  A  far 
gieater  variety  and  brilliance  of  colour  can  be  gained  in  over-glaze 
painting  than  in  under-glaze  pigments.  But  the  over-glaze  colours 
are  very  inferior  in  softness  and  decorative  beauty,  and  are  fre- 
quently very  harsh  and  gaudy.  Different  pigments  require  difl'er- 
eiit  temperatures,  and  three  distinct  firings  are  used  at  SJvies  for 
the  painting  only:  they  are  called  "grand  feu,"  "demi-grand  feu," 
and  "  feu  do  moufle."  Pure  gold  for  the  gilt  parts  in  a  very  finely 
divided  state  is  obtained  by  chemical  solution  and  precipitation. 
The  gold  requires  a  special  kiln,  and  firing  at  a  higher  temperature 
than  ths  colour-pigments,  aud  therefore,  iu  the  case  of  pdle  dure, 
is  applied  first.  The  coloura  have  to  be  put  on  aud  fired  in  order 
according  to  the  degi-ee  of  heat  they  require,  thus  very  much  add- 
ing to  the  painter's  difficulties,  which  are  also  increased  by  tlx 


OEKMAN,  ETC.] 


POTTERY 


639 


fact  that  all  the  colours  alter  in  the  kiln,  the  unfired  pigments 
often  bearing  no  resemblance  to  their  fired  state.     Thus  an  ela- 
borately painted  and  gilt  Sevres  vase  passes  through  six  separate 
,   firings,  and  often  a  seveuth  when  it  needs  final  retouching. 

The  porcelain  d  pdte  tendre  is  irow  made  in  small  quantities  at 
Sfvres.  Its  materials  have  been  described  above.  In  most  respects 
It  goes  through  the  same  processes  as  the  pdle  dure,  but  the  gold 
is  applied  after  the  painting,  as  it  requires  a  less  degree  of  heat  to 
fix  It  on  the  more  fusible  glaze  used  (or  pdle  tenure. 

Modern  Sevres  porcelain  ha.s  two  marl^s — first,  tho  mark  of  the 
paste  or  undecorated  vase,  painted  in  green ;  second,  a  mark  in 
red  or  gold  to  show  that  it  has  been  painted  at  Sevres.  Slightly 
<lefectivo  pieces  in  the  white  glazed  state  are  sometimes  sold  and 
decorated  elsewliere.  In  this  case  the  green  mark  is  cancelled  by 
the  cut  of  a  lapidary's  wheel  before  it  leaves  the  manufactory. 
M.  Brongniart,  in  his  Arls  C^ramiows,  has  given  a  complete  set 
of  plates,  showing  all  the  processes,  the  machinery,  and  the  kilns 
used  at  Sevres  in  his  time, — that  is,  from  1800  to  1847.  Other 
processes  are  now  practised.  One  is  for  making  very  thin  cups  and 
saucers,  like  Eastern  "egg-shell  china,"  which  are  formed  by  merely 
rinsing  out  a  plaster  mould  with  fluid  paste,  when  sufficient  of  the 
paste  to  make  the  thin  walls  of  the  cup  adheres  to  the  absorbent 
mould  ;  and  thus  porcelain  is'  made  much  thinner  than  it  could  be 
by  use  of  the  wheel  and  lathe.  Another  recent  invention  is  of 
great  importance  in  the  forming  of  large  vases  with  bodies  thin  in 
proportion  to  their  size.  Such  would  be  liable  to  coUapse  from 
their  own  weight  while  the  paste  was  soft.  To  prevent  this,  t'ue 
vase  is  set  in  an  air-tight  chamber,  its  mouth  being  carefully  closed, 
and  the  air  in  the  chamber  round  it  is  exhausted,  so  that  the  soft 
vase  is  kept  in  shape  by  the  expansive  pressure  of  the  air  within 
it.  The  converse  method  is  also  used  in  some  cases,  by  compressed 
air  being  forced  into  the  vase.  When  the  paste  is  sufficiently  dry 
all  fear  of  failure  from  this  cause  is  over.  In  this  way  vases  as 
much  as  12  feet  in  height  have  been  successfully  made  and  fired. 

In  addition  to  porcelain  shaped  and  painted  after  the  18th- 
century  fashions,  and  tho  new  pdte  surpdte  process,  tho  present 
manufactory  produces  a  great  deal  of  fine  porcelain  copied  exactly 
from  the  fanciful  and  elaborate  wares  of  China  and  Japan,  such  as 
the  delicate  double  cups  and  vases,  with  outer  sheUs  of  minute 
open  work  pierced  through,  and  many  other  varieties  requiring 
great  technical  skill  and  patience.  Unhappily  the  old  faults  and 
.  misdirected  aims  still  prevent  the  laboured  products  of  this  great 
factory  from  having  much  real  artistic  value,  or  even  strong  decora- 
tive effect.  The  paintings  on  the  porcelain  are  still  pictures  like 
miniatures  on  ivory,  and  the  treatment  and  forms  of  the  most 
«laborat6  vases  are  not  such  as  would  arise  from  a  natural  and 
rational  treatment  of  plastic  clay.  The  ingenious  resources  of 
modem  chemistry  have  produced  pigmo^ts"  of  countless  variety  of 
tint,  but  they  are  nsc^tly  over-gaudy  and  Harsh  in  combination  ; 
•nd  the*  modem  habit,  not  peculiar  to  S6vres,  of  applying  paintings 
•over  the  glaze,  wilfully  rejects  the  special  soft  richness  of  effect 
which  a  vitreous  coating  gives  to  the  pigments  under  it. 

Liternturc. — On  French  porcelain,  consult  Jacquemart,  Hiftoire  de  la  Cham- 
^B^*^  1873  ;  DaviUJer,  Les  Forcelaines  de  Stvrss,  1870,  and  Lcs  Faiences  ct  Porcelaines 
We  Moustura,  kc,  1-863;  Jacquemart  and  Le  Blant,  Histoire  de  la  Porcelaine, 
1861-62;  Lojeal,  Jtccherches  sur  la  Porcelaine  de  Valenciennes^  1868;  Milct,  L'Jn- 
.mention  de  la  Porcelaine  4  llouen,  1807  ;  Guide  du,  Vistleurj  Sevres,  1874 ;  Cool, 
Peinture  sur  Porcelaine,  1866;  Bastcnaire-Daudenart,  LArt  de  /ahriquer  la 
foretlaine,  1827.    See  aUo  the  general  list  of  works  on  ceramic  art. 

German  and  Austrian. 

Tho  porcelain  of  Germany  was,  from  the  first,  composed 
of  a  hard  natural  paste,  a  true  kaolinic  clay.     Its  success- 
ful production  was  the  result  of  a  single,  almost  accidental, 
act  of  discovery,  and  not,  lilcc  that  of  the  French,  of  a  long 
series  of  experiments  with  different  materials,  ending  in  the 
invention  of  a  highly  artificial  imitation  of  true  porcelain. 
)ttger.  In  the  year  1700  a  young  chemist,  or  rather  alchemist,  of 
•  great  ability,  called  Frederick  Bcittger  (1682-1 7 19),  a  native 
of  Saxony,  fled  to  Dresden  under  the  accusation  of  prac- 
tising magical  arts  and  searching  for  the  "  philosopher's 
stone."      He  was  there  taken  under  the   protection  of 
Augustus  II.,  elector  of  Saxony,  who  employed  him  to 
make  experiments,  at  first  connected  with  medical  chemistry 
and  afterwards  with  the  composition  of  pastes  and  clays 
for  ceramic  ware.     From  1701  he  worked  for  his  royal 
patron,   partly  at  Dresden  and   partly  at  the  castle  of 
Meissen,  carefully  guarded,  and  kept  in  seclusion  almost 
like  a  prisoner,  in  order  that  his  discoveries  might  remain 
secret,  and  also  to  prevent  his  leaving  the  country.     For 
nine  years  Bottger  only  produced  stoneware,  though  of 
a  finer  and  harder  quality  than  had  hitherto  been  made 


(see  pp.  630-31);  but  in  1710  he  seems  to  have  been  in 
some  way  set  on  the  track  of  the  secret  of  porcelain  manu- 
facture. His  first  attempts  were  unsuccessful :  the  pastt 
is  grey  and  defective,  and  there  is  little  or  no  glaze.  So 
far  no  real  progress  had  been  made  towards  the  discovery 
of  true  porcelain.  But  in  1710  a  lucky  accident,  com- 
bined with  the  young  chemist's  ready  powers  of  observa- 
tion, revealed  the  true  nature  of  the  required  paste. 
Having  noticed  the  unusual  weight  of  some  new  hair- 
powder  with  which  his  wig  was  dressed,  he  inquired  what 
it  was  made  of,  and,  finding  that  it  was  a  finely-powdered 
white  clay  from  Aue,  near  Schneeberg  in  Saxony,  he  pro- 
cured some  of  the  clay.  He  made  vessels  of  it  and  fired 
them,  and  found  that  he  had  discovered  the  material  of 
true  hard  porcelain,  like  that  from  China  and  Japan. 
When  Augustus  II.  learned  the  importance  of  the  dis- 
covery he  established  the  porcelain  manufactory  at  Meissen 
with  Bottger  as  its  director.  This  establishment,  5  miles 
from  Dresden,  was  more  like  a  prison  than  a  factory, 
being  surroimded  by  high  walls  and  shut  in  by  port- 
cullises :  none  except  workmen  were  ever  admitted,  and 
they  were  sworn  to  secrecy  under  pain  of  penal  servitude 
for  life.  The  kaolin  from  Aue  was  dug  out,  packed  in 
sealed  bags,  and  brought  to  Meissen  with  every  care  pos- 
sible to  avoid  betraying  the  secret  of  its  importance ;  no 
possible  precaution  was  omitted,  and  yet,  in  one  case  at 
least,  all  attemps  to  keep  the  monopoly  were  in  vain  (see 
below,  "  Vienna  porcelain  "). 

The  earliest  productions  of  the  Meissen  (Dresden)  porce-  Decor* 
Iain-works  are  copies  from  the  Chinese   and  Japanese. !!°°',''' 
Some  are  plain  white,  with  flowers  or  fruit  in  low  relief ;     ^^^^ 
others  have  painted  under-glaze  in  blues  only,  like  the  cele-  jajn. 
brated  blue  and  white  china  of  Nanking.    The  first  pieces 
painted  with  other  colours  are  imitations  of  old  Japanese 
china  in  green  and  red  with  enrichments  in  gold.    Biittger 
died  in  1719,  and  was  succeeded  in  his  directorship  by 
George  Horoldt,  who  introduced  certain  improvements  in 
the  processes  of  tho  manufacture,  and  increased  the  quan- 
tity of  its  annual  production.    In  his  time  Chinese  designs 
were  still  copied,  mostly  very  ugly  figure-subjects  on  white 
panels,  the  rest  of  the  vase  being  coloured  yellow,  green, 
or  grey,  and  decorated 
with     elaborate     gilt 
scroll-work  in  theworst 
possible  taste. 

After  about  1725  the 
Eastern  style  of  design 
was  superseded  by  ela- 
borate miniature  paint- 
ings of  flowers  and  in- 
sects, or  copies  from 
Dutch  and  Flemish 
painters.  All  notion  of 
true  ceramic  decoration 
wasgone,andthe  porce- 
lain was  only  regarded 
as  a  ground  on  which 
to  paint  an  imitation 
of  au  oil  -  painting. 
Another  stylo  of  decor- 
ation soon  came  into 
fashion  :  china  was  de- 
corated in  relief  with 
tho   "  honeycomb "    or 

"  may-flower  "  pattern.  Fro.  70. -Dresden  vase  r^/c  uure  ■  m«y. 
T     Ii      1  •..       1  '    J  /  flower  patteni   m   relief,  coloured  blue 

In  the  latter  kind  (see  ^^jgoij.  (South  Kensington  Museum. ) 
fig.   70)  the  vessel   is 

closely  studded  with  blossoms  of  the  may,  moulded  ir  a 
realistic  way,  with  thin  crisp  edges,  and  then  coloured  and 
gilded,  very  laborious  to  execute,  and  extremely  disagree- 


640 


POTTERY 


[rOECELAIN. 


able  in  effect.  Perhaps  the  chief  specialty  of  Dresden 
porcelain  consists  in  its  statuettes  and  group  of  figures,  the 
best  of  which  were  made  between  1731  and  1756  under 
the  superintendence  of  a  sculptor  named  Kandler.  Some 
of  these,  especially  the  Watteau-like  shepherds  and  shep- 
herdesses, have  a  sort  of  feeble  prettiness  ;  but  most  have 
only  little  merit,  and  some  are  grotesque  and  wilfully  ugly. 
They  are  generally  decorated  with  colours  and  gilding ;  the 
best,  however,  are  in  plain  glazed  white.  Elaborate  can- 
delabra, clocks,  and  other  objects  were  largely  made,  into 
the  designs  of  which  figures  in  the  round,  flowers  realistic- 
ally modelled,  and  rococo  scroll-work  were  introduced, 
generally  in  a  feeble  and  ungraceful  way.  For  some  years 
after  177-4  designs  of  more  classical  form,  purer  in  outline 
and  less  crowded  with  clumsy  ornament,  came  into  fashion. 
Since  then  nothing  of  any  real  value  has  been  produced  in 
Jthe  Dresden  china-works.  Of  late  years,  since  the  increase 
of  prices  given  for  old  Dresden,  the  directors  of  the  manu- 
factory have  begun  to  reproduce  their  old  designs,  and 
even  to  use  some  of  the  worn-out  moulds ;  the  result  is 
that  the  china  thus  produced  is  very  blunt  and  spiritless, 
quite  devoid  of  merit. 

The  old  Dresden  porcelain  is  of  a  fine  paste,  and  has  a 
good  glaze,  but  its  white  is  of  a  rather  cold  tint,  occasion- 
ally even  having  a  bluish  shade.  If  is,  however,  both  in 
quality  of  material  and  in  design,  the  best  porcelain  that 
Germany  has  produced.  During  the  early  period  the 
monogram  "AR"  interlaced  (for  Augustus  Rex)  marks  the 
pieces  made  either  for  the  king's  use  or  from  his  design. 
Between  1712  and  1715  pieces  made  for  sale  were  marked 
with  a  rudely-sketched  snake  twining  round  a  stick.  Since 
1721  two  crossed  swords  have  been  used  as  a  general  mark; 
the  addition  of  a  dot  or  star  marks 
special  periods  (see  No.  30).  The 
swords  were  the  arms  of  the  elector 
of  Saxony  as  arch-marshal  of  the  em- 
pire. Some  pieces  have  "MPM"  for 
"  Meissenen  Porzellan  ^Manufactur."  Potter's  marks. 
As  at  Sevres,  china  from  Dresden,  if  •  ^  ■ 

sold  undecorated,  has  the  cross-swords  mark  cancelled  by 
the  cut  of  a  wheel.     In  1863  the  china-works  were  moved 
from  the  fortress  of  Meissen  and  established  in  a  new  and 
more  convenient  building. 
Vienna  Vienna  Porcelain. — In  1720  one  of  the  workmen  escaped  from 

porce-       the  prison-like  manufactory  of  Meissen  and  brought  the  secrets  of 
lain.  the  porcelain  clay  to  Vieijna,  where  he  set  up  kilns  and  workshops 

in  partnership  with  a  Frenchman  named  Du  Pasquier.  They  ob- 
tained a  special  patent,  but  had  little  practical  success  ;  and  the 
Vienna  porcelain  was  not  made  in  large  quantities  till  after  17-14, 
when  the  manufactory  was  carried  on  under  the  patronage  of  ilaria 
Theresa  and  the  emperor  Joseph.  In  17S5  there  were  thirty-five 
Idlns  in  working  order,  and  500  work-people  were  employed.  Vienna 
porcelain  is  not  of  a  pure  white,  but  is  greyish  in  tint ;  its  paintings 
are  very  poor,  and  it  depends  for  its  effect  chiefly  on  gOt-moulded 
scroll-work  in  delicate  relief.  Its  manufacture  was  suspended  in 
1864  on  account  of  the  heavy  expense  it  entailed  on  the  Austrian 
Governinent. 

Berlin  porcelain  was  first   made   in   1751   by  a  potter  named 
Wegely,  who  marked  his  ware  with  No.  31.     It  was  not,  however, 
1  commercial  success  till  Frederick  the  Great  took  it 
n  hand.     He  sent  a  number  of  skilled  workmen     ^  ^u/  ^ 
from  the  Meissen  (Dresden)  china-works  to  Berlin,       ^^J^^ 
and  also  ordered  the  manufactory  to  be  supplied  w    ^ 

with  the  kaolinic  clay  from  Aue,  of  which  Meissen  ^^"^r""*^" 
hitherto  had  preserved  the  monopoly.  In  quality  Potter  s  mark, 
the  Berlin  porcelain  comes  next  to  that  of  Dresden  ;  ^°'  ^^" 
it  is  often  decorated  with  a  bright  rose-pink,  the  favourite  colour 
of  Frederick,  which  was  unknown  at  the  Meissen  works.  Large 
aiiantities  of  porcelain  are  still  made  at  Berlin. 

Other  Continental  Porcelain  of  the  18th  Century: 
A  very  large  number  of  other  places  in  Germany  pro- 
duced hard  natural  porcelain  during  the  18th   century, 
but  none  of  their  work  is  of  any  special  interest  or  beauty. 
It  became,  in  fact,  the  fashion  for  every  king  or  reigning 


ed  as  a  general  marK; 


Potter's  marks.     No.  32. 


prince  to  be  the  patron  of  a  porcelain  manufactory.  Porce- 
lain was  produced  at  Amsterdam  and  The  Hague ;  at 
Brussels,  Copenhagen,  and  Zurich;  and  iu  Russia  at  St 
Petersburg  and  Moscow. 

In  Italy  also  fine  soft  porcelain  was  made, — at  Doccia  as 
early  as  1735,  some  of  which,  ornamented  in  under-glaze 
blues  only,  is  very  decorative  and  in  good  taste.  Venice 
produced  clever  copies  of  Japanese  porcelain,  painted  with 
chrysanthemums  and  other  flowers  in  enamel.  The  royal 
manufactory  at  Capo  di  Monte,  close  to  Naples,  founded 
in  1736  by  Charles  III.,  pro- 
duced a  great  deal  of  porce- 
lain decorated  in  many  styles, 
mostly  in  very  bad  taste. 
The  best  are  Oriental  designs 
painted  in  blues  only.  The 
accompanying  marks  (No.  32)  were  used,  the  fleur-de-lis 
in  1736,  the  crowned  N  after  1759,  and  the  RF  after  1780. 
All  the  Italian  porcelain  is  of  the  soft  artificial  sort. 

The  porcelain -works  in  the  Buen-Retiro  gardens  at 
Madrid  were  also  established  by  Charles  III.  after  he 
succeeded  to  the  throne  of  Spain.  Much  of  this  (soft) 
porcelain  is  classical  in  form,  and  is  decorated  with  minia- 
ture paintings  in  colours  or  _  | 
monochrome.  Charles  III.  '  LJ  W  /^  ^j^^ 
transferred  thirty -two  work-  /O  THW*  0|C^ 
men  and  painters  from  Capo  p  tt  '  arks  Ko  3'? 
di  Monte  when  he  founded  the 

Buen-Retiro  manufactory,  and  hence  the  productions  of 
the  two  factories  are  very  similar  in  style.  One  of  the 
marks  used,  the  Us,  was  common  to  both ;  the  usual  forms 
on  the  Buen-Retiro  porcelain  were  those  in  No.  33. 

Literature. — See  Falke,  Geschichte  der  h.  Forzellan-Fabrik  in 
Wien,  1867 ;  Graesse,  Geschichte  der  GefdsslildnerH,  Porzellan- 
Fabrication,  kc,  1853;  Kamer,  Die  Parzellan-Malerei,  &c.,  1870; 
Kolbe,  Geschiihle der Porcellanmanu/aciur zu Berlin,  1863;  Klemm, 
Die  k.  sdchsische  Porzellan-  und  Ge/dss-Sammlmig,  1833 ;  Kriinig, 
Cyclopedia,  s.v.  "Porzellan." 

English. 

The  early  history  of  English  porcelain  is  rather  obscure. 
John  Dwight  (see  p.  632  above)  was  apparently  the  first 
English  manufacturer  who  took  out  a  patent  for  the  pro- 
duction of  transparent  porcelain  ;  but  no  specimens  made 
by  him  are  now  known. 

Chelsea  Porcelain. — According  to  Jewitt  (Co'amic  ArlCbeU' 
of  Great  Britain),  John  Dwight  probably  founded  the'*'=*'"'J 
porcelain-works  at  Chelsea,  which  rank  first  among  English 
manufactories  both  in  date  and  importance.  In  1745  they 
were  in  full  activity;  and  the  popularity  in  France  of 
English  porcelain  was  one  of  the  causes  which  led  to  the 
establishment  of  the  royal  manufactory  at  Sfevres.  The 
owner  of  the  Chelsea  works  was  a  Frenchman  called 
Niqholas  Spremont,  who  continued  to  manufacture  fine 
porcelain  till  his  retirement  from  business  in  1764. 

This  porcelain  is  very  varied  in  style,  as  was  the  case 
with  most  of  the  18th-century  makes.  Some  of  it  is 
simply  imitated  from  Eastern  china,  either  in  blue  and 
white,  or  in  the  old  Japanese  style,  which  was  then  so 
popular,  chiefly  painted  in  rich  red  and  green,  with  a  good 
deal  of  gilding.  Other  pieces,  more  elaborate  and  costly, 
resemble  Sevres  porcelain,  and  have  miniature  paintings 
on  white  panels,  the  rest  of  the  vase  being  coloured  with 
one  uniform  tint,  such  as  the  French  bleu  du  roi  or  "  rose 
Pompadour."  One  colour,  peculiar  to  Chelsea,  is  a  deep 
claret-red.  Most  of  the  vases  have  a  great  deal  of  gild- 
ing, both  applied  in  patterns  on  the  body  of  the  vase,  and 
also  used  solidly  to  decorate  the  elaborate  moulded  scroll-> 
work  which  was  fixed  on  the  sides  of  >the  porcelain. 
The  writhing  masses  of  gold  on  Chelsea  ware  are  prob- 
ably the  most  meaningless  and  stupid  attempts  at  decora- 


ENGLISH.] 


POTTERY 


641 


tion  that  have  ever  been  produced.  Many  of  them  are 
designed  with  appayently  not  even  an  attempt  at  beauty 
of  form  or  grace- 

;  fulness  of  curve, 

I  and  are  quite 
■n-ithout  the  vig- 
ir  that  is  often 
possessed  by  the 
grotesques  of 
China  or  Japan. 
Chelsea  v'ases  of 
this  elaborate 
8ort  are  rare,  as 
their  production 
was  slow,  and 
they. now  fetch 
yeryhigh  prices: 
£2000  has  been 
given  for  a  single 
vase  such  as  that 
shown  in  fig.  71. 
It  should  be 
observed  that, 
till  the  discovery 

of  the  half-de-  Fio.  71.— Early  Chelsea  vase,  dark-blue  body,  Tvith 
composed  kao-  gilt  scroU-work  at  the  sides.  (South  Kensington 
linic      clay      of      Museum.) 

Cornwall  about  1755  by  Cookworthy,  all  English  porcelain 
was  of  the  soft  variety  {d,  pdie  tendre),  and  was  really  an 
artificial  compound  with  an  ordinary  vitreous  lead  glaze. 
The  painted  decoration,  like  that  of  Sfevres,  was  applied 
over  the  glaze,  with  the  exception  of  a  fine  cobalt  blue, 
which  was  painted  on  the  china  in  a  biscuit  state.  This 
colour  is  much  the  finest  and  most  truly  decorative  of  any 
of  the  pigments,  very  superior  in  richness  of  effect  to  the 
much  brighter  over-glaze  colours.  That  used  at  the  Derby 
porcelain-works  is  the  most  beautiful  in  tint. 

The  early  success  of  the  Chelsea  porcelain  was  partly 
due  to  the  patronage  of  George  II.,  who,  following  the 
royal  fashion  of  the  age,  took  a  great  interest  in  the 
manufactory,  and  not  only  bought  large  quantities  of  its 
productions  but  also  aided  it  by  importing  kaolinic  clay, 
models,  and  even  skilled  workmen  from  Saxony.  In  1769 
the  Chelsea  porcelain-works  were  put  up  to  auction,  and 
bought  by  William  Duesbury,  the  owner  of  the  Derby 
china -factory.  Till  1784  he  carried  on  the  manufacture 
of  porcelain  at  both  places,  but  in  that  year  he  pulled 
down  the  Chelsea  kilns  and  transferred  all  the  movable 
plant  and  the  workmen  to  Derby.  The  Chelsea  mark  is 
usually  an  anchor,  either  painted  in  red  or  gold,  or 
moulded  in  relief ;  the  anchor 
is  often  double  (see  No.   34), 


*tt 


Potter's  marks.     No.  ii. 


and  in  some  cases  has  the  ad- 
dition of  one  or  more  daggers. 
Some  specimens  first  noted  by 
Mr.  Jewitt^  have  quite  different 
marks,  incised  on  the  paste  before  glazing,  which  are  of 
Special  interest  as  being  the  earliest  dated  specimens  of 
English  porcelain.  Such  marks  are  a  triangle,  with  the 
addition  "Chelsea  1745." 

Bow  Porcelain  (Stratford-le-Bow). — In  1744  Edward 
fleylyn  and  Thomas  Frye,  the  latter  a  painter  of  sopie 
repute,  took  out  a  patent  for  the  manufacture  of  porcelain 
at  Bow.  The  composition  they  used  was  a  curious  one, 
being  almost  a  hard  porcelain.  The  clay,  which  was  called 
"  unakor,"  was  brought  from  America,  and  was  probably 
in  impure  kind  of  kaolin.  It  was  ground  and  washed  to 
separate  the  sand  and  mica ;  and  to  it  was  added  pounded 
glass— &  pure  alkaline  silicate— ^varying  in  proportion  from 

'  See  "  History  oC  Chelsea  Chion."  in  Art  Journal  for  1863.         ' 


isnea  irom  tne  originajs.     bome 


equal  parts  of  clay  and  glass  to  one -fifth  of  glass.  The* 
glaze  was  a  similar  mixture,  with  less  of  the  American 
kaolinic  clay.  This  paste  and  glaze  must  have  been 
difficult  to  manage,  since  in  1748  the  partners  took  out 
a  fresh  patent  for 'a  more  artificial  and  softer  kind  of 
porcelain,  with  a  more  fusible  lead  glaze.  In  1750  the 
Bow  works  came  into  the  hands  of  Messrs  Weatherby  and 
Crowther,  and  were  then  called  "  New  Canton."  Fcr 
some  time  the  manufactory  was  successful,  and  employed 
300  hands ;  but  before  long  one  of  the  partners  died,  and 
the  survivor,  "John  Crowther,  chinaman,"  was  gazetted 
bankrupt  in  1763,  and  the  whole  stock  was  sold  off. 
Crowther,  however,  in  spite  of  his  failure,  carried  on  the 
works  till  1775,  wh«n  they  were  bought  by  William  Dues 
bury,  the  owner  of  the  Chelsea,  Derby,  and  other  china 
factories ;  he  pulled  down  the  Bow  kilns  and  transferred 
the  plant  to  Derby,  as  he  did  afterwards  in  the  case  of 
the  Chelsea  manufactory.  The  Bow  porcelain  is  of  a  fine 
soft  milky  white;  many  of  the  imitations  of  Chinese  figures 
are  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from  the  originals.  Some 
of  the  Bow  china,  decorat- 
ed only  in.  the  rich  under- 
glaze  blue,  with  Eastern 
designs,  is  very  effective. 
A  good  many  pieces  are 
painted  rn  the  Dresden 
style,  and  coloured  statu-  Potter's  marks.     No.  35. 

ettes  or  groups  of  figures,  also  after  German  models,  were 
largely  produced.  The  Bow  marks  are  very  numerous, 
some  not  distinguishable  from  those  of  Chelsea ;  No.  35 
shows  four  varieties. 

Derby  porcelain  is  supposed  to  have  been  made  as  early 
as  1750,  possibly  by  Andrew  Planche,  a  clever  French  re- 
fugee, who  in  1756  entered  into  partnership  with  Heath 
and  Duesbury,  the  last  of  whom  afterwards  became  the 
chief  china-manufacturer  of  England.  The  purchase  by 
Duesbury  of  the  Bow  and  Chelsea  works  has  already  been 
mentioned.  The  Derby  porcelain  is  often  very  large,  ela- 
borately moulded,  and  profusely  decorated,  generally  rather 
in  the  Dresden  style,  weak  in  form  and  gaudy  in  colour. 
The  Derby  under-glaze  blue  was  remarkably  fine,  anrl 
many  of  the  plain  blue  and  white  pieces,  with  Chinese 
patterns,  are  highly  decorative,  as  are  also,  though  in  a 
less  degree,  those  porcelain  services  that  were  painted  in 
the  "old  Japanese  style."  One  of  the  chief  specialties 
of  the  Derby  works  was  the  production  of  delicate  white 
figures  in  biscuit  china,  often  modelled  with  great  skill 
and  refinement.  Unfortunately  the  jjractice  of  printinij 
the  under-glaze  patterns,  instead  of  painting  them  by 
hand,  was  introduced  at  Derby  about  1764,  and  did  much 
to  destroy  all  the  artistic  value  of  the  work  (see  below). 
The  marks  used  were  these,— first  a  "D"  combined  with 
an  anchor  (No.  36),  or  a  crowned  anchor  (No.  37),  used 
during  the  earlier  part  of  the  time  when  Duesbury  was 
carrying  on  both  the  Chelsea  and  the  Derby  factories, 
1769-84;  next  the  crown  was  used,  either  over  the  "D' 
only  (No.  38),  or,  more  usually,  with  a  saltirc  or  crossec" 


2)-^ 


No.  36.  No.  37.  No.  38.  No.  3». 

Potters'  marks, 

swords  immediately  under  it.  Another  variety  has  crossed 
lines  under  the  crown  (No.  39).  The  Derby  works  con- 
tinued in  the  possession  of  the  Duc.sbury  family  till  1814 
QI  1815,  when  Robert  Bloor  became  the  lessee  and  finally 

XIX.  —  8i 


642 


POTTERY 


the  owner  of  tlie  place.  He  soon  realized  a  large  fortune, 
.  though  to  some  extent  at  the  expense  of  the  credit  and 
high  reputation  for  excellence  of  work  which  had  been 
gained  and  kept  up  by  the  various  members  of  the  Dues- 
bury  family.  He  gained  a  great  deal  of  money  by  selling 
off  the  stock,  accumulated  during  many  years,  of  slightly 
defective  pieces  of  porcelain,  which  the  Duesbury  family 
would  not  allow  to  go  into  the  market.^ 

Worcester  Porcelain. — The  china-works  at  Worcester 
were  founded  by  a  very  remarkable  man — Dr  Wall,  who 
appears  to  have  possessed  unusual  skill  as  a  physician, 
artist,  and  chemist.  After  some  years  spent  in  attempts  to 
discover  a  fine  artificial  porcelain,  he,  in  conjunction  with 
other  practical  men  and  capitalists,  started  the  Worces- 
ter Porcelain  Company  in  1751.  The  early  productions  of 
this  factory  are  very  artistic ;  thsy  are  chiefly  copies  of 
the  fine  Nanking  porcelain,  painted  under-glaze  in  blues 
only,  with  very  boldly  decorative  designs.  Old  Japanese 
■ware  was  also  successfully  imitated.  After  that  the  most 
ambitious  pieces  of  Worcester  porcelain  were  mostly  dull 
reproductions  of  the  elaborately  painted  wares  of  Sevres 
and  Chelsea.  Transfer  printing  was  first  used  at  Worcester 
for  designs  on  china  in  1756,  though  it  had  been  invented 
and  employed  some  years  earlier  for  the  decoration  of 
the  Battersea  enamelled  copper.  This  process  was  no  less 
injurious  at  Worcester  than  elsewhere  to  the  artistic  value 
of  the  paintings.  Dr  Wall  cied  in  1776,  and  after  that 
the  porcelain -works  passed  through  various  hands.  A 
great  impetus  was  given  to  its  success  by  George  III.,  who 
visited  the  factory  in  1788  and  granted  it  the  title  of 
"  The  Royal  Porcelain  Works."  The  earliest  marks  are  a 
"  W "  or  a  crescent ;  others  used  are  crossed  arro>vs  or 
varieties  of  sham  Chinese  marks  (see  No.  40).^  The 
manufacture  of  china  at  Worcester 
is  still  continued  with  great  ac- 
tivity ;  the  fineness  of  the  paste 
and  the  skilful  processes  employed 
leave  nothing  to  be  desired.  Un- 
fortunately the  old  fault  of  a  too 
realistically  pictorial  style  of 
painted  decoration  still  prevails, 
and  an  immense  amount  of  artistic  skill  and  patient  labour 
is  practically  wasted  in  producing  minute  but  not  truly 
decorative  work.  Some  of  the  modern  Worcester  copies 
of  Eastern  porcelain  and  enamels  are  very  delicate  and 
beautiful,  and  the  cameo-like  method  of  pdte  sur  pdte  de- 
coration is  practised  with  great  skill  and  often  good 
effect. 
Bristol  Bristol  porcelain  is  of  interest  as  being  the  first  hard 
porcelain,  natural  porcelain  made  in  England.  As  early  as  1766 
attempts  were  made  by  Richard  Champion  to  make  an 
artificial  paste,  with  the  help  of  the  American  "  unaker  " 
or  kaolinic  clay,  which  was  being  used  successfully  at 
Bow,  but  no  results  of  any  importance  seem  to  have 
followed  his  experiments.  The  successful  production  of 
Bristol  porcelain  was  due  to  the  discovery  in  Cornwall 
of  large  beds  of  kaolinic  "  growan  "  stone  or  "  china  "  stone, 
first  brought  into  use  by  William  Cookworthy,  a  Plymouth 
potter.  This  discovery  and  the  succeeding  one  of  similar 
beds  in  Devonshire  were  of  great  commercial  importance 
to  England,  and  the  beds  have  ever  since  produced  enor- 
mous quantities  of  material  for  the  manufacture  of  fine 
hard  porcelain  both  in  England  and  abroad. 

This  china  stone  (see  Cock,  Treatise  o»  ChiTia  Clay,  1880)  is 
not  a  pure  kaolinic  clay  like  that  found  in  China,  but  is  simply  a 
granitic  rock,  partially  decomposed,  and  soft  and  fi-iable,  but  still 
retaining  both  quartz  and  mica  in  addition  to  the  felspar,  which 
is  the  essential  base  of  kaolin.  In  China  the  processes  of  nature 
have  carried  the  decomposition  and  sorting  of  the  different  com- 

'  See  Haslem,  Old  Derby  China  Factory,  1 876. 

'  For  fuller  information,  see  Biuns,  Polling  in  Worcester,  1865. 


iJ»A 


Potter's  nip.rks.     No.  40. 


2/  +  IT 


ponent  parts  of  granite  to  a  further  stage.  There  the  decomposed 
felspar  has,  by  the  action  of  rain  and  running  streams,  been 
deposited  in  an  almost  pure  and  finely-divided  state  in  beds  by 
itself,  almost  free  from  quartz  and  flakes  of  mica.  In  using  the 
Cornish  china  stone,  therefore,  various  natural  processes  have  to  bo 
artificially  performed  before  the  paste  is  sufficiently  white  and  pure 
for  use  ;  but  when  this  is  done  it  is  little  if  any  inferior  to  the 
Chinese  kaolin.  The  stone  when  dug  out  is  white  with  grey  specks, 
and  is  so  friable  as  to  be  easily  reduced  to  powder  between  mill- 
stones. It  is  agitated  with  water,  and  run  through  a  series  of 
settling  troughs  ;  thus  the  lighter  flakes  of  mica,  which  are  very 
injurious  to  the  paste,  are  washed  away,  and  the  pure  felspathio 
kaolin  is  deposited  free  from  impurities.  Free  silica  is  added  ia 
a  fixed  proportion  ;  it  is  usually  obtained  from  flints,  first  calcined 
and  then  linely  ground  to  powder,  whicli  are  an  important  ingredient 
iu  the  composition  of  both  fine  pottery  and  porcelain.  The  Jermyn 
Street  Museum  has  a  complete  collection  of  all  the  materials  used 
in  china  manufacture. 

William  Cookworthy  at  once  recognized  the  value  of  his 
discovery,  and  set  up  china-works  both  at  Plymouth  and 
at  Bristol.  No.  41  shows  the  mark  of  the  Plymouth  porce- 
lain, and  No.  42  those  that  were  used  at  Bristol.  In  1774 
he  sold  the  Bristol  fac-  ^^ 

tory  to  Richard  Cham-  ^^ 

pion,  still  retaining  a  O 

large  royalty  on  the 
china  stone.  Champion 
signed   his  ware  with 

No.  43.     The  produc-  'no.  41.    No.  42.     No.  43.     No.  '44. 
tion  of  Bristol  porcelain  Potters'  marks. 

continued  till  1781,  when  the  works  were  sold  to  a 
Staffordshire  company,  and  the  manufacture  of  hard  porce- 
lain was  no  longer  carried  on  there.  Though  fine  in  paste 
and  unusually  transparent,  the  Bristol  porcelain  has  no 
special  artistic  merits.  As  with  most  other  English  wares, 
the  best  in  colour  and  design  are  copies,  with  more  or  less 
adaptation  from  Eastern  china ;  some  of  them  are  very  ^ 
large  and  magnificent.  The  figures  and  flower-reliefs  in  i 
biscuit  porcelain  are  also  delicate,  and  often  cleverly 
modelled,  with  wonderful  realism. 

Some  fine  blue  and  white  china  was  produced  towards  Othei 
the  end  of  the  last  century  at  Lowestoft,  and  at  Liverpool  <='"'''» 
as  early  as  1756  ;  aud  many  other  china-works  were  estab-'° 
lished  in  various  parts  of  England.     In  the  beginning  of 
the  present  century  Swansea  and  Nantgarw  in  South  Wales 
produced  porcelain  which  was  highly  esteemed ;  but  the 
delicate  shades  of  difference  in  the  paste,  glazes,  and  styles 
of  decoration  of  these  numerous  varieties  of  British  porce- 
lain are  not  such  as   can  be  described  in  a  few  words; 
nothing  but  careful  examination  of  the  wares  themselves 
will  enable  the  student  to  distinguish  between  the  produc- 
tions of  the  different  manufactories.     Swansea  ware  bears 
various  marks,  of  which  No.  44  is  one  example. 

Modern  Methods  of  Manufacture. — The  methods  and  materials  Mano- 
now  employed  at  Sevres  iu  the  production  of  porcelain  are  in  all  factun 
essential  points  much  the  same  as  those  practised  elsewhere  (sea 
above),  i'he  chief  centre  in  England  of  the  manufacture  of  pottery 
or  non-translucent  earthenware  is  in  Stafl'ordshire,  near  the  borders 
of  Cheshire,  where  a  large  district  devoted  to  this  industry  goes  by 
the  name  of  "  The  Potteries."  Worcester,  Lambeth,  and  mnny  other 
places  in  England  also  tiim  out  annually  large  quantities  of  pottery. 
Tlie  processes  employed  may  be  divided  under  the  following  heads  : 
— (1)  choice  and  mixture  of  clays  ;  (2)  washing  and  grinding  the 
materials  ;  (3)  throwing  on  the  wheel  and  moulding  ;  (4)  kilns 
and  methods  of  firing ;  (5)  glazes ;  (6)  pigments  and  methods  of 
decoration. 

1.  Choice  and  Mixture  of  Clays. — The  extensive  bods  of  fine  Dorset 
or  Poole  clay  supply  the  chief  ingredient  in  the  manufacture  of 
English  pottery.  This  is  too  fat  a  clay  to  be  used  alone,  and  is 
therefore  mixed  with  a  certain  proportion  of  free  silica  to  prevent 
it  from  twisting  or  cracking  in  the  kiln.  Another  ingredient  is 
added  to  the  mixture  for  the  finer  wares,  namely,  the  Cornish  oi 
Devonian  china  stone,  a  kaolinic  substance  used  in  the  manufacture 
of  porcelain  (see  above),  which  makes  the  paste  finer  in  texture, 
whiter,  harder,  and  less  brittle.  These  three  substances  are  mixed 
in  various  proportions.  The  following  makes  a  fine  cream-coloured 
ware,— Dorset  clay  66  to  66  parts,  silica  (flint)  14  to  20,  china 
stone  17  to  30  parts. 


P  0  T  — P  O  T 


643 


2.  Washing  and  Grinding  the  Materials.— The  Dorset  or  Poole 
clay  is  finely  ground  between  mill-stones,  mixed  witli  water  to  tho 
consistency  of  cream  or  slip,  and  then  passed  through  tine  silk 
sieves  to  strain  out  aU  grit  or  palpable  particles.  The  china  stone 
is  treated  in  the  same  way,  with  the  additional  precaution  of  wash- 
ing away  all  the  flakes  of  mica,  which  come  from  the  decomposiuon 
of  the  granitic  rocTc  from  which  the  china  stone  is  derived.  The 
silica  is  obtained  from  flints,  which  are  easily  ground  to  Kne  powder 
after  beinf  heated  red-hot  and  thrown  into  water.  These  three 
BubsUnces.  brought  into  the  state  of  fluid  slip,  are  repeatedly 
pumped  up  from  vats  and  passed  through  the  sieves  ;  they  are  then 
easilv  mixed  in  due  proportion  by  being  pumped  into  graduatea 
vats.'  The  water  is  next  evaporated  from  the  fluid  mixture  in  large 
boilers  heated  by  a  complicated  arrangement  of  flues,  and  the  com- 
pound is  left  in  a  soft  p.\sty  state,  full  of  air-bubbles,  which  have 
to  be  got  rid  of  by  constantly  turning  over  and  beating  the  paste 
till  it  is  quite  smooth  and  compact,  and  sufficiently  plastic  to  bo 
thrown  on  the  wheel.  Coloured  earthenware,  such  as  that  Wedg- 
wood used  to  make,  was  prepared  by  the  addition  of  variojis  sub- 
stances to  the  fluid  slip.  A  black  colour  was  given  by  protoxide  of 
iron  and  manganese,  red  by  red  ochres  or  red  oxide  of  iron,  b  ue  by 
o.tide  of  cobalt,  and  green  by  protoxide  of  chrome.  These  coloured 
pastes  are  but  little  used  now. 

3.  Throwing  and  Moulding.— k{teT  sufficient  kneading,  the  clay 
is  made  up  into  balls  of  a  convenient  size  for  the  thrower  to  mould 
into  shape  upon  his  wheel.  The  methods  both  of  throwing  and  of 
moulding  are  the  same  for  porcelain  as  for  pottery  (see  p.  638  above). 
Unfortunately  in  England,  as  at  Sivres,  the  thrown  vessels  are 
nsually  finished  on  the  lathe  ;  only  the  commonest  kinds  of  ware 
escape  this  process,  which  takes  away  all  life  and  spirit  from  the 
wheel -formed  pottery.  Consequently  it  is  the  cheapest  and  com- 
monest wares  that  aow,  as  a  rule,  have  most  natural  beauty  of  fonn 
and  really  artistic  spirit.  Handles  and  other  parts  which  are  shaped 
in  piece-moulds  are  either  cast  by  pouring  fluid  slip  into  the  plaster- 
moulds,  or  are  formed  by  pressing  and  dabbing  thinly-rolled  pieces 
of  soft  clay  into  moulds  made  in  two  parts.  The  moulded  halves  of 
the  spout  or  handle  are  fastened  together  while  still  wet,  and  the 
edges  at  the  junction  pared  down  and  trimmed  with  a  n-odelling 
tool.  Plates,  basins,  and  the  Uke  are  formed  by  the  combination 
of  a  mould  and  a  shaped  gauge  as  described  above  (Sevres). 

4.  Kilns  and  Firing.— Aher  the  vessel  with  its  moulded  handles 
or  spout  is  thoroughly  dry  it  is  ready  for  tho  first  firing.  The 
usual  Stafl'ordshire  biscuit-kiln  is  a  circular  building,  about  18  feet 
in  internal  diameter  at  the  base,  narrowing  towards  the  top.  It 
u  about  18  to  20  feet  high,  and  is  very  carefully  built  of  refractory 
fire-bricks,  strengthened  by  rings  of  wrought-iron  which  clasp  the 
outside.  It  is  surrounded  by  eight  to  ten  furnace  openings,  with 
flues  arranged  to  distribute  the  heat  equally  throughout  tho  kiln. 
The  pottery  is  fired  in  drum-shaped  "saggers"  or  boxes,  madeof  fire- 
clay which  are  piled  one  above  the  other,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Sevres 
porcelain.  The  fire  is  kept  up  from  thirty  to  fifty  hours,  and  is  then 
allowed  to  die  out.  Several  days  are  allowed  for  cooling  before  the 
kiln  is  opened  and  the  saggers  with  their  contents  withdrawn. 

6  Glazes.  —The  composition  of  glazes  for  pottery  varies  very  much 
accordin<T  to  the  custom  of  each  manufacturer.  For  the  most  part 
they  are  transparent  silicates  of  alumina,  rendered  fusible  by  oxide 
of  lead  •  this  compound  is  made  by  a  mixture  of  Cornish  china 
stone,  flint,  and  white  lead.  The  best  qiuility  of  glazes  have  borax 
and  some  alkali  added  as  a  flux,  in  which  case  the  proportion  of 
lead  is  reduced.  Those  glazes  that  contain  much  lead  are  easily 
scratched,  and  can  be  decomposed  by-  many  acids ;  thus  there  is 
always  a  risk  of  lead-poUoning  if  vessels  coated  in  this  way  are 
used  for  cooking  purposes.  Tho  materials  for  tho  glazo  are  finely 
ground  with  water  and  made  into  a  thin  whit5  fluid.  The  biscuit 
pottery  is  rapidly  dipped  into  vats  of  the  milky  mixture,  and  sulft- 
cient  to  form  the  glaze  adheres  to  tho  absorbent  clay  in  an  even 
coating  all  over  the  surface.  After  being  dried  tho  pottery  is  ready 
for  the  second  firing  in  tho  glazina  kiln,  which  is  very  similar  in 
construction  to  the  biscuit-kiln,  only,  as  a  rule,  rather  smaller.  It 
is  packed  in  clay  saggers,  as  in  the  first  firing,  but  a  stronger  heat 
is  required  to  fuse  the  finer  kinds  of  glaze  than  was  necessary  for 
the  baking  of  the  raw  pottery.  Salt-glazing  has  been  described 
above  (p.  632),  and  Is  only  used  for  tho  coarser  sorts  of  ware.         _ 

6.  Methods  of  Vccoralion.— In  the  ca.se  of  pottery  decoration  is 
usually  applied  on  the  biscuit-ware  before  it  is  glazed  bv  the  trans- 
fer-printing process.  Tho  required  design  is  engraved  on  copper 
plates  ;  the  pigment  is  ground  fine  and  mixed  with  a  tcnacioun 
compound  of  oil  and  gums.  An  ordinary  rolling  press  is  used  to 
print  the  engraved  patterns  in  Uie  oily  pigment  upon  stnns  ol 
tissue-paper,  which  are  carefully  applied  and  pressed  face  down- 


wards  on  the  biscuit -ware  while  the- oil  is  yet  wet;  and  so  tho 
pattern  is  transferred  to  the  absorbent  clay.  This  requires  great 
dexterity  from  the  difficulty  there  is  in  fitting  the  printed  strips 
neatly  on  to  curved  surfaces.  The  paper  is  then  washed  off,  and 
the  printed  ware  is  baked  at  a  moderate  temperature  in  what  is 
called  the  "hardening"  kiln,  which  is  done  before  the  glaze  is 
applied,  in  order  to  drive  off  the  oily  medium  with  which  the  pig- 
ment was  mixed.  The  transfer  process  is  quite  fatal  to  all  artistic 
beauty  in  the  designs  ;  it  is  hard,  clumsy,  and  ineolianical,  the  very 
opposite  of  a  rational  method  for  the  decoration  of  pottery,  which 
above  all  things  demands  freedom  of  hand  and  a  spirited  touclr. 
Fainted  decoration  which  is  executed  by  hand  is  now  usually 
applied  over  the  glaze,  both  because  it  is  easier  to  do,  not  requiring 
so  certain  a  touch,  and  also  because  the  soft  subdued  colours  of  the 
under-glaze  pigments  do  not  suit  tho  modern  taste  for  what  is 
brifht  and  showy.  The  pigments  used  are  necessarily  oxides  and 
salts  of  metals  which  will  stand  the  heat  of  the  kUn.  Only  thoso 
few  which  can  stand  the  very  high  temperature  of  the  glazing  kiln 
can  be  used  under  the  glaze.  The  over-glaze  colours,  on  the  other  _ 
hand,  only  need  sufhcient  heat  to  fix  them  on  the  surface  of  the 
already  fired  glaze  ;  and  this  is  often  done  in  a  very  slight  and 
imperfect  way.  These  colours  not  only  lose  in  eflect  from  want  of 
the  softening  vitreous  coat  through-  which  under-glaze  colours  are 
seen,  but  they  are  also  very  inferior  through  being  unprotected, 
and  therefore  easily  injured  by  scratches  and  ordinary  wear.  In 
old  times  tho  value  of  a  protecting  coat  of  glaze  was  so  strongly 
felt  that  even  paintings  on  enamel,  like  those  on  Persian  pottery 
and  Italian  majolica,  usually  had  a  thin  vitieous  glaze  added  over 
the  smooth  enamel,  with  the  double  object  of  protecHng  the  paint- 
ing and  increasing  its  soft  richness  of  eff'ect. 

The  discoveries  of  modern  chemistry  have  added  very  greatly  to  Pig 
the  number  of  metallic  salts  which  are  available  for  the  decoration  men. 
of  pottery.  Almost  every  possible  tint  can  be  produced  for  over- 
glaze  painting.  Oxides  of  cobalt  are  used  for  various  shades  of  blue 
and  grey  up  to  black  ;  antimony,  usually  combined  with  lead, 
gives  yellow  ;  oxides  of  copper  give  deep  red  or  bnlliant  blues 
and  greens  according  to  the  proportion  of  oxygen  that  they  con- 
tain ;  oxide  of  chromium  gives  a  good  quiet  green  ;  manganese 
gives  violet  and  even  black  ;  gold  gives  a  fine  ruby  red  ;  and 
uranium  a  rich  orange.  The  various  oxides  of  iron  give  a  great 
variety  of  colours,— reds,  yellows,  and  browns.  Oxidu  of  ziuc  is 
largely  used,  not  as  a  pigment  in  itself,  but  in  combination,  to 
modify  other  colours.  The  oxides  of  iron,  cobalt,  and  chromium 
give  very  stable  colours,  capable  of  bearing  a  very  high  temper- 
ature, and  can  therefore  be  used  for  under-glaze  paintir.g  ;  most  of 
the  others  can  only  be  employed  for  over-glaze  work.  Over-glaze 
pigments  cannot  be  used  alone,  but  require  a  flux  to  make  them 
combine  with  the  glaze.     Oxide  of  lead,  borax,  nitre,  carbonates 


Chelsea,  and  Derby  Porcelain.  1875 ;  Wullis  and  Bemrose,  Pollery  and  Pora- 
lain  0/ Derbyshire,  1870  ;  Jewitt,  Ceramic  Art  oj Great  Briiaxn.,  1877,— the  most 
complete  and  compreliensivo  work. 

Muaexims  illu,lralive  of  the  Central  History  of  Pottery.— The  Musie  Wramique  »lu- 
of  StiTCS  is  the  best  and  most  complete  for  the  student  of  «11  kinds  of  pottery,  etunl* 
In  EnRland  the  Jennyn  Street  Museum  of  Geolosy  has  a  small  but  very 
widely-illustrative  collection  of  pottery  and  the  various  materials  used  In  its 
manufacture.  The  South  Kensington  Museum  is  rich  in  almost  all  kinds  of 
iiiedi:eval  and  modem  pottery,  but  It  is  unfortunately  very  badly  arranged. 
Tho  British  Museum  possesses  u  very  large  number  of  specimens  of  prehistono 
potttry  Greek  vases,  medio;val  English,  and  very  choice  examples  of  Persian 
and  mijolica  wares.  The  other  chief  European  museums  arc  mostly  each  ricJi 
In  some  special  department  of  ceramic  art. 

Gen'ral  Literature  on  PoHfrv-— Brongniart,  T.aitf  des  Arts  Chamiiiirl.  1854, 
Jacquemart,  Hisloirt  de  la  Ciramique.  1B73  ;  Marryat,  Potltry  ami  Porcelain  3d 
cd,  1868;  Birch.  Ancient  Pottery,  1873;  Catalogue  of  Putury.  Mtfivum  o!  Oca- 
logy  Jerm>Ti  Street,  1870(a  very  useful  and  wellillustratea  work) ;  Bonneville 
anJ  Jtanez.  Lei  Arts  Ciramiques.  1873;  Brongniart  and  Riucrmx.  il  usee  dt  Sevres, 
IS15-  Figuler,  Ui  Merveitlea  de  VlnduslrU.  1873-7.'.;  Greslou,  llechercha  »ur  (o 
Ciramviue  18H4  ;  Ouillcry,  Lea  Arts  Ciramiques,  1654;  Jacmiolnart,  Us  Htr- 
veilles  lie  la  Ciramique,  18(5609;  Magnier,  ilanuil  du  Porcelainlcr.  '■"'""irr, 
tc     1804  •  Maresclial.  Us  Faiences  Ancitnnes  cl  Motienies,  1807  ;  Male,  hcchercha 


On  Pottery  and  Porcelain  Marks  the  reader  may  consult  J^^'^/""'"" 
Marken  und  Monogra^me.  1873;  ChnlTerj,  ''""'''«»V-^^  "jj' '■';^  ''.°"a°«7S 
1874  ;  Deminin,  Cnid,  de  f  Amateur  de  yaxence.tl  ''»!f'"''«f.  .'"v".?^ 
Guide  de  r Amateur  ,le  Forcelaine,  4c.,  1873  ;  Pall  .er,  "", "''"' ',^''^'"'  ' UJT. 
,H„.i.,a,  1874-75  :  Uls-Paquot,  BicH<;..nalrf  des  Marques  ,t  ''"""I'"'"'""'  '»"  • 
^loope;  and  Phillips,  Manual  of  Marks.  1878;  Uc.wes,  -f"''"""'  ''"''"•,,''f^ 
Many  other  list,  of  ceramic  mark,  occur  .Iso  lu  llio  various  works  iii^.t^n<Kl 
under  previous  head..  '''     "  "'' 


l-OTTSTOWN",  a  borough  of  Jlontgomery  county, 
Pennsylvania,  United  States,  ia  picturesquely  situated  on 
the  Schuylkill  river,  in  a  plain  surrounded  by  hills.  It  is 
18  miles  east-south-east  of  Reading  and  40  miles  west- 


north-west  of  Philadelphia,  at  the  junction  of  the  Phil- 
adelphia and  Reading  (main  line)  and  the  Colcbrookdalo 
Railroads,  and  has  communication  also  by  the  Schuylkill 
Valley  branch  of  tho  Pennsylvania  Railroad.     There  are 


644 


P  O  T  — P  0  U 


rn  and  near  Pottstown  six  rolling-mills,  two  blast-furnaces, 
three  iron  and  brass  foundries,  two  nail-factories,  and  large 
bridge  works,  besides  minor  industries.  The  population 
of  Pottstown  was  4125  in  1870,  and  6305  in  1880. 

POTTSVILLE,  a  city  of  the  United  States,  capital  of 
Schuylkill  county,  Pennsylvania,  lies  35  miles  north-west 
of  Reading,  on  the  north  side  of  the  Schuylkill  river,  in 
the  gap  by  which  it  breaks  through  Sharp  Mountain.  It 
is  the  terminus  of  the  main  line  of  the  Philadelphia  and 
Eeading  Railroad,  and  the  great  emporium  of  the  Schuyl- 
kill coal  region,  which  extends  north  and  east  and  west, 
and  has  an  annual  yield  of  about  6,000,000  tons.  Fur- 
naces, rolling-mills,  machine-shops,  planing-mills,  a  splke- 
miU,  a  pottery,  <fec.,  are  among  the  industrial  establish- 
ments ;  and  the  public  institutions  include  a  court-house, 
a  jail,  a  town-hall,  a  union  hall,  an  opera-house,  a  children's 
home,  a  lyceum,  and  a  free  reading-room.  The  German 
and  Welsh  elements  in  the  population  are  strong  enough 
to  be  represented  each  by  several  churches.  Pottsville  as 
a  city  dates  from  1825.  In  1850  it  had  7515  inhabitants, 
12,384  in  1870,  and  13,253  in  1880. 

POUGHKEEPSIE,  a  city  of  the  United  States,  capital 
of  Duchess  county.  New  York,  lies  on  the  east  bank  of 
the  Hudson  river,  73  miles  north  of  Few  York.  It  is  on 
the  New  York  Central  and  Hudson  River  Railroad,  and 
communicates  with  the  New  York,  West  Shore,  and  Buffalo 
Railway  by  ferry  from  Highland,  and  with  the  Hartford 
and  Connecticut  Western  Railroad  by  the  Poughkeepsie, 
Hartford,  and  Boston  Railroad  (37  miles).  The  site  con- 
sists for  the.  most  part  of  a  tableland  which  rises  from 
150  to  200  feet  above  the  river,  and  is  backed  towards 
the  east  by  College  Hill,  300  feet  in  height.  Well  laid 
out  with  regular  and  shaded  streets  and  abundantly  sup- 
plied with  water  (pumped  from  the  river  to  a  reservoir  on 
College  Hill),  Poughkeepsie  is  a  pleasant  place  of  resid- 
ence, and  it  enjoys  a  special  reputation  for  its  educational 
institutions.  Vassar  College  (2  miles  east  of  the  city), 
the  earliest  and  one  of  the  greatest  women's  colleges  in 
the  world,  was  founded  and  endowed  in  1861  by  Matthew 
Vassar,  a  wealthy  Poughkeepsie  brewer;  in  1884  it  had 
300  students,  and  possessed  a  library  of  14,150  volumes; 
together  with  collections  of  water-colours  and  of  American 
birds,  both  of  great  value,  an  astronojnical  observatory, 
and  a  chemical  laboratory.  Two  miles  north  of  the  city, 
on  an  eminence  above  the  Hudson,  stands  the  Hudson 
River  State  Hospital  for  the  Insane,  an  immense  building 
erected  between  1867  and  1871,  with  300  acres  of  ground 
attached.  Within  the  city  are  an  opera-house,  a  free 
public  library,  a. large  young  men's  Christian  association 
building  -Rdth  a  free  reading-room,  St  Barnabas  and  Vassar 
Brothers  Hospital,  and  homes  for  aged  men  and  women'. 
It  also  contains  iron-furnaces,  breweries,  and  manufactories 
of  shoes,  glass,  mowing  machines,  pottery,  hardware,  and 
various  minor  industries.  The  population  was  14,726  in 
1860,  20,080  in  1870,  and  20,207  in  1880. 

Poughkeepsie  (forty-two  different  spellings  of  the  name  are  said 
to  be  found  in  old  records)  was  settled  by  the  Dutch  about  1698- 
1700.  Two  sessions  of  the  Slate  legislature  were  held  in  the  place 
in  1777  and  1778  ;  the  former  gave  assent  to  the  articles  of  con- 
federation, and  the-lalter  ratified  the  national  constitutioiu  The 
city  charter  dates  from  1854. 

POULPE,  or  Octopus.  See  Cuttle-fish,  vol.  vi.  p. 
735,  and  Mo;llusca,  vol.  xvi.  p.  669  sq. 

POULTRY.  The  term  "  poultry  "  (Fr.  oiseanx  de  basse 
cour)  is  usually  regarded  as  including  the  whole  of  the 
domesticated  birds  reclaimed  by  man  for  the  sake  of  their 
flesh  and  their  eggs.'^  The  most  important  are  the  Common 
Fowl,  which  is  remarkable  as  having  no  distinctive  English 

'  Although  pigeons  are  not  generally  included  among  poultry,  yet, 
on  account  of  their  close  connexion,  it  has  been  deemed  advisable 
to  add  a  short  section  on  them  to  this  article. 


name,  the  Turkey,  and  the  Guinea-fowl,  all  members  of  the 
family  of  birds  known  as  Phadanidx.  The  Pheasants  them- 
selves, belonging  to  the  restricted  genus  Phasianus,  are  not 
capable  of  being  domesticated,  and  the  Peacock  is  to  be 
regarded  rather  as  an  ornamental  than  as  a  poultry  bird. 
The  aquatic  birds  which  are  strictly  entitled  to  be  con- 
sidered domesticated  poultry  are  the  Duck  and  t^e  Goose, 
two  species  of  the  latter  having  been  perfectly  reclaimed. 

The  common  fowl  belongs  to  the  restricted  genus  Gallvi, 
of  which  four  wild  species  are  known, — the  Bankiva 
Jungle  fowl  (G.  ferrugineus),  the  Sonnerat  Jungle  fowl 
{G.  sonnerati),  the  Ceylon  Jungle  fowl  (G.-stanteyi),  and 
the  Forked-tail  Jungle  fowl  (G.  furccdus).  The  range  of 
these  species  is  given  under  Fowx  (vol.  ix.  pp.  491-492). 
The  origin  of  the  domesticated  breeds  is  ascribed  by  Dar- 
win, Blyth,  and  other  naturalists  to  the  Bankiva-  fowl, 
much  stress  being  laid  on  the  comparative  want  of  fer- 
tility in  the  hybrids  produced  between  this  species  or  the 
domesticated  breeds  and  the  other  three-  forms  of  wild 
Gain,  but  it  is  probable  that  this  want  of  fertility  was  due 
in  great  part  to  the  unnatural  conditions  under  which  the 
parent  and  offspring  were  placed,  as,  if  bred  under  more 
natural  conditions,  there  is  no  difficulty  in  rearing  these 
hybrids  or  in  breeding  from  them  with  the  domesticated 
varieties.  The  number  of  distinctive  breeds  of  the  domesti- 
cated fowl  has  very  gi-eatly  increased  of  late  years,  owing 
to  the  emulation  excited  by  poultry,  shows.  Darwin,  in 
his  Variation  of  Animals,  <tc.,  under  Domestication,  enumer- 
ated thirteen  principal  breeds  with  numerous  sub^varietie'B, 
but  several  very  distinctive  races  have  come  into  notice 
during  the  last  ten  years,  varieties  having  been  formed 
by  careful  selection  that  may  be  relied  on  for  reproducing 
their  own  distinctive  peculiarities  in  the  descendants,  and 
hence  constituting  what  are  regarded  by  fanciers  as  pure 
breeds.  The  classification  of  the  known  varieties  is  not 
an  easy  task  ;  each  is  capable  of  interbreeding  with  every 
other,  and  so  great  an  intermixture  of  local  races  has  taken 
place  that  the  arrangement  of  the  breeds  is  as  difficult  in 
poultry  as  in  dogs. 

Game  Fowls. — Game  fowls  differ  less  from  the  wild 
Bankiva  than  any  other  variety ;  they  are,  however,  con- 
siderably larger,  and  carry  the  tail  more  erect  than  the 
wild  birds.  In  some  parts  of  iMdia  sportsmen  find  it  not 
easy  to  distinguish  between  the  wild  and  the  domesticated 
birds.  Game  fowls  in  England  .have  been  long  cultivated 
not  only  as  useful  poultry  but  on  account  of  their  com- 
bative tendencies,  which  have  become  so  intensified  by  care- 
ful selection  that  they  have  extended  even  to  the  other  sex, 
and  hens  have  been  not  unfrequently  fought  in  the  cock- 
pit. The  comb  in  the  Game  is  single,  the  beak  massive, 
the  spurs  strong  •  and  very  sharp.  There  is  a  tendency 
towards  the  assumption  of  the  female  plumage  by  the 
males,  and  distinct  -breeds  of  "  henny  "  Game  are  known. 
The  peculiarity  is  not  associated  with  any  loss  of  com- 
bativeness,  the  birds  being  highly  valued  for  their  courage 
and  endurance  in  the  pit.  Economically  considered.  Game 
are  highly  esteemed  for  th_e  table  on  account  of  their  plump- 
ness, the  amount  of  the  'breast-meat,  owing  to  the  size  of 
the  pectoral  muscles,  being  very  great,  from  which  cause, 
combined  vrith  their  hardihood,  they  are  most  valuable  for 
crossing  with  other  breeds,  as  the  Dorking.  English-bred 
Game  have  been  reared  of  many  varieties  of  colour,  retain- 
ing in  all  cases  their  distinctive  peculiarities  of  foi-m. 
Within  the  last  few  years  Game  fowls  have  been  reduced 
in  size  by  selective  breeding,  and  the  exceedingly  minute 
Game  bantams  have  been  produced  with  the  distinguishing 
characters  of  the  larger  breed.  During  the  last  twenty 
years  Game  fowls  have  been  considerably  altered  in  form, 
owing  to  the  influence  of  poultry  show  3, — the  legs  and 
necks  having  been   greatly  lengthened.     This    has    beec 


POULTRY 


645 


accomplished  by  careful  selection  in  breeding  and  not  by 
crossing  with  any  other  breed. 

Malayan,  Fowls. — The  Malayan  type  has  been  long  recog- 
nized as  of  Eastern  origin.  The  birds  are  of  large  size, 
close  and  scant  in  plumage,  with  very  long  legs  and  necks. 
The  Gallus  giganteus  of  Temminck,  which  he  regarded 
erroneously  as  a  distinct  species,  belonged  to  this  group, 
as  did  the  Kulm  fowl  and  the  Grey  Chittagong  of  the 
United  States.  The  Malays  are  of  savage  disposition. 
Several  smaller  breeds  of  a  somewhat  similar  type  are 
known  as  Indian  Game ;  some  of  these,  as  the  Aseels,  are 
of  indomitable  courage.  Until  the  arrival  of  the  so-called 
Cochin  breeds  from  the  north  of  China,  Malays  were  the 
largest  fowls  known  in  Europe  and  were  employed  to 
impart  size  to  other  varieties  by  crossing. 

Cochins. — This  type,  which  must  be  regarded  as  in- 
cluding not  only  the  birds  generally  so  called  but  also  the 
Brahmas  and  Langshans,  is  of  very  large  size,  some  of  the 
nales  reaching  the  great  weight  of  16  or  17  lb.  They  are 
distinguished  by  a  profusion  of  downy  plumage,  with  small 
wings  and  tails ;  they  are  incapable  of  long  flight,  and  the 
pectoral  muscles  are  consequently  but  feebly  developed. 
The  Cochins  originally  imported  from  Shanghai  were  of 
several  colours  ;  some  of  the  grey  birds  in  America  were 
crossed  with  the  grey  Chittagong,  the  Brahmas  being  the 
result  of  the  cross,  and  they  have  been  long  since  estab- 
lished as  a  pure  breed,  faithfully  reproducing  their  own 
type.  The  Langshans  are  a  mors  recent  importation  ; 
since  their  introduction  they  have  been  bred  by  careful 
selection  for  eating,  and  have  fuller  breasts  and  less  abun- 
dant plumage  than  the  older-knoT\ii  Cochins  and  Brahmas. 
Recently  a  sub-variety  of  Cochin  has  been  raised  in  America 
by  crossing  with  a  cuckoo-coloured  breed  long  known  as 
Dominiques.  These  have  become  fashionable  under  the 
name  of  Plymouth  Rocks.  They  are  cuckoo-coloured,  viz., 
each  feather  is  marked  with  transverse  grey  stripes  on  a 
lighter  ground,  and,  as  in  all  cuckoo-coloured  breeds,  the 
cocks  are  of  the  same  colour  as  the  hens ;  their  legs  are 
not  feathered,  and  the  plumage  is  not  so  loose  as  that  of 
the  more  typical  Cochins.  They  are  admirable  layers,  but 
the  intense  yellow  of  the  skin  lessens  their  value  for  the 
table. 

Spanish. — The  Spanish  or  Mediterranean  t3rpe  is  well 
marked.  The  birds  are  of  moderate  size,  with  large  single 
erect  combs  and  white  ear-lobca.  In  the  black  Spanish 
the  whiteness  of  the  ear-lobe  extends  over  the  face,  and 
its  size  has  been  so  greatly  developed  by  cultivation  that 
in  some  specimens  it  is  6  or  7  inches  in  length  and  several 
in  breadth.  Closely  related  to  the  Spanish,  differing  only 
in  colour  of  plumage  and  extent  of  white  face  and  ear- 
lobe,  are  the  white  and  brown  Leghorns,  the  slaty-blue 
Andalusians,  the  black  Minorcas,  &c.  All  are  non-incu- 
bators, the  desire  to  sit  having  been  lost  in  the  tendency 
to  the  increased  production  of  eggs,  which  has  been  de- 
veloped by  the  persistent  and  long-continued  selection  of 
the  most  fertile  layers. 

Ilamhurylis. — The  Hamburghs,  erroneously  so  called 
from  a  name  given  them  in  the  classification  adopted  at 
the  early  Birmingham  shows,  are  chiefly  breeds  of  English 
origin.  They  have  double  combs  and  small  white  ear- 
lobes.  There  are  various  sub-varieties.  Those  with  a  dark 
crescent-like  mark  on  the  end  of  each  feather  of  the  hen 
are  termed  Spangled  Hamburghs.  Others  are  of  uniform 
black  plumage.  A  somewhat  similar  breed  of  smaller 
8ize,  with  each  feather  of  the  hens  marked  with  trans- 
verse bands  of  black  on  a  white  or  bay  ground,  is  termed 
Pencilled  Hamburghs  ;  they  were  formerly  known  as  Dutch 
everyday  Layers.  These  breeds  are  all  non-sitters  and  lay 
a  remarkably  large  number  of  eggs. 

Crested  Fowls. — The  crested  breeds  have  long  been  culti- 


vated on  the  Continent  and  are  admirably  delineated  in 
the  pictures  by  Hondekoeter  and  other  early  Dutch  artists. 
In  Great  Britain  they  are  erroneously  termed  Polish.  The 
development  of  the  feathered  crest  is  accompanied  by  a 
great  diminution  in  the  size  of  the  comb,  which  is  some- 
times entirely  wanting.  The  wattles  also  are  absent  in 
some  breeds,  their  place  being  occupied  by  a  large  tuft 
of  feathers,  forming^what  is  termed  the  "beard."  In  all 
the  crested  breeds  there  is  a  remarkable  alteration  of 
the  cranium,  the  anterior  part  of  the  skull  forming  a 
prominent  hoUow  tuberosity  which  contains  a  very  largo 
part  of  the  brain.  This  portion  of  the  brain-case  is  rarely 
entirely  ossified.  There  are  numerous  sub -varieties  of 
crested  fowls.  The  best-known  breeds  in  England  are  the 
spangled,  wth  a  dark  mark  at  the  end  of  each  feather. 
This  mark  often  assumes  a  crescent  shape,  the  horns  of  the 
crescent  sometimes  running  up  each  margin  of  the  feather 
so  as  to  form  a  black  border ;  feathers  so  marked  are  termed 
"  laced  "  by  poultry-fanciers.  There  are  also  white  Polish 
and  a  buff  variety.  A  very  distinct  sub- variety  is  the 
black  breed  v/ith  a  white  crest  on  the  head  and  large  pen- 
dent wattles.  A  variety  with  the  arrangement  of  these 
colours  reversed  was  formerly  known,  but  it  has  now  be- 
come extinct.  Some  of  the  larger  breeds  of  the  west  of 
Europe  are  closely  related  to  the  Polish.  The  Creve-coeur 
is  a  crested  breed  of  uniform  black  colour ;  it  is  of  large 
size  and  of  great  value  for  the  table  and  for  egg-produc- 
tion. The  Houdan  is  a  black  and  white  breed  of  very 
similar  character.  In  some  breeds  the  form  of  the  body 
and  structure  of  bones  of  the  face  closely  resemble  those  of 
the  Polish,  but  there  is  an  absence  of  the  feathered  crest, 
the  crescent- shaped  comb  becoming  more  largely  deve- 
loped ;  such  are  those  known  as  Guelders,  Bredas,  and  La 
Fleche,  the  latter  being  the  best  French  fowl  for  eating. 
A  small  white-crested  variety,  profusely  feathered  on  the 
legs,  was  received  some  twenty  years  since  (1864)  from 
Turkey ;  they  are  now  known  as  Sultans.  1h<i  crested 
breeds  are  all  non-incubating. 

Dcirkings. — The  Dorking  type  includes  fowls  that  have 
for  many  generations  been  bred  for  the  supply  of  the 
London  markets.  They  are  all  fleshy  on  the  breast  and 
of  fine  quality.  The  Dorkings  have  an  extra  toe,  a  mon 
strosity  which  leads  to  disease  of  the  feet.  The  Surrey  and 
Sussex  fowls  are  four-toed.  The  coloured  Dorkings  wer« 
greatly  increased  in  size  some  few  years  since  by  crossing 
with  an  Indian  breed  of  the  Malay  type.  The  birds  of  the 
Dorking  type  are  fair  layers  and  good  sitters.  They  are 
rather  delicate  in  constitution  and  arc  cliicfly  bred  in  the 
south  of  England.  Crossed  with  the  Game  breed  they 
furnish  a  hardy  fowl,  plumper  than  the  Dorking  and  larger 
than  the  Game,  which  is  of  unsurpassed  excellence  for  the 
table.  Mating  a  Dorking  cock  with  large  Game  hens  is 
found  to  be  the  most  advantageous. 

Silk  Fowls. — These  constitute  a  singular  variety,  in  which 
the  barbs  of  the  feathers  are  not  connected  by  barbulcs  and 
the  entire  plumage  has  a  loose  fibrous  appearance  ;  similar 
variations  are  found  amongst  other  species  of  birds,  but 
are  soon  lost  in  a  wild  state.  The  silk  fowl  best  known 
is  that  in  which  the  plumage  is  perfectly  white,  whilst  the 
skin,  cellular  tissue  between  the  muscles,  and  the  periosteum 
covering  the  bones  are  a  deep  blue-black,  the  comb  and 
wattles  being  a  dark  leaden  blue.  The  birds  are  admir- 
able sitters  and  mothers,  and  are  much  valued  for  rear- 
ing phea.sants,  being  of  somewhat  small  size.  Though  of 
remarkable  appearance  when  cooked,  they  arc  of  good 
quality.  In  crosses  with  other  breeds  the  silky  character 
of  the  plumage  is  generally  lost,  but  the  dark  skin  and 
intermuscular  cellular  tissue  remaiii  and  greatly  lessen 
the  value  of  the  birds  in  the  market. 

Frizzled  fowls  are  birds  in  which  each  feather  curls  out- 


646 


P  O   U  L  T  K  y 


■wards  away  from  the  body.  They  are  common  in  India, 
but  are  not  adapted  to  the  climate  of  Britain,  as  the  plum- 
age offers  an  imperfect  protection  against  wet. 

Eunipless  fowls  are  those  in  which  the  coccygeal  vertebrs 
are  absent ;  there  is  consequently  no  tail.  By  crossing, 
rumpless  breeds  of  any  variety  may  be  produced.  They 
are  not  desirable  to  cultivate,  as,  from  the  structural  peculi- 
arities, the  eggs  are  very  apt  to  escape  being  fertilized. 

Dumpies  or  Creepers  are  birds  in  which  the  bones  of 
the  legs  are  so  short  that  their  progression  is  consider- 
ably interfered  with.  The  best  known  are  the  Scotch 
dumpies. 

Long-tailed  fowls,  under  the  various  names  of  Yokohama 
or  Phoenix  fowls,  or  Shinotawaro  fowls,  are  singular 
varieties  recently  introduced  from  Japan,  in  which  the 
jsickle-feathers  of  the  tail  are  6  or  7  feet  long.  In  Japan 
'they  are  said  to  assume  a  much  greater  length.  One  bird 
in  the  museum  at  Tokio  is  stated  to  have  sickle-feathers 
17  feet  long ;  but  examination  is  not  permitted.  In  other 
respects  the  fowls  are  not  peculiar,  resembling  the  birds  of 
the  Game  type. 

Bantam. — This  term  is  applied  to  fowls  of  a  diminutive 
size  without  any  reference  to  the  particular  breed.  By 
carefol  selection  and  crossing  with  small  specimens  any 
variety  can  be  reduced  to  the  desired  size.  The  Chinese 
had  in  the  summer  palace  at  Peking  small  Cochins  weigh- 
ing not  more  than  1  lb  each.  Game  bantams  of  less  size 
have  been  established  during  the  past  twenty-five  j'ears. 
The  Malays  have  been  reduced  to  bantam  size  within  a 
very  few  years,  as  have  the  crested  breeds.  The  Japanese 
have  long  possessed  a  dwarf  breed  with  enormous  tail  and 
comb,  and  with  very  short  legs.  One  of  the  most  artificial 
breeds  is  the  Sebright  bantam,  named  after  its  originator. 
This  bird  has  the  laced  or  marginal  feather  of  the  Polish 
combined  with  the  absence  of  male  plumage  in  the  cocks, 
so  that  it  may  be  described  as  a  hen-feathered  breed  with 
laced  plumage.  When  perfect  in  marking  it  is  of  singular 
beauty,  but  is  not  remarkable  for  fertility. 

In  breeding  the  domestic  fowl  for  useful  purposes  it  is  desirable 
to  follow  to  a.  greater  extent  than  is  usual  the  natural  habits  and 
instincts  of  the  bird.  The  wild  fowl  is  a  resident  in  forests,  coining 
out  to  feed  in  the  open ;  in  addition  to  green  vegetables  and  fruit 
it  lives  on  grain,  seeds,  worms,  grubs,  and  insects,  which  it  obtains 
by  scratching  in  the  soil ;  it  roosts  in  the  higher  branches  of  trees, 
and  the  hen  deposits  her  eggs  on  the  ground,  usually  in  a  concealed 
situation,  laying  one  egg  every  other  day  until  the  number  is  com- 
pleted, when  she  sits  for  twenty-one  days.  On  the  chickens  being 
batched  they  do  not  leave  the  nest  for  twenty-four  or  thirty  hours, 
being  nourished  by  the  absorption  of  the  yolk  into  the  intestinal 
canal.  When  they  are  sufficiently  strong  to  run  after  the  hen  she 
takes  them  in  search  of  food,  which  she  obtains  by  scratching  in  the 
ground  or  amongst  decaying  vegetable  matter. 

A  domesticated  lien  allowed  to  make  her  own  nest  in  a  hedge  or 
ooppice  always  brings  out  a  much  larger,  stronger,  and  healthier 
brood  than  one  that  sits  in  the  dry  close  atmosphere  of  a  hen-house. 
Wherever  the  nest  is  placed  it  should  always  be  made  of  damp  earth 
so  as  to  supply  the  requisite  moisture  and  cool  the  under  surface  of 
the  eggs  as  compared  with  the  upper.  When  hatched  the  chicken 
should  not  be  removed  for  twenty-four  hours,  feeding  not  being 
required.  The  first  food  should  be  egg  and  milk — equal  parts — 
beaten  together  and  heated  until  it  sets  into  a  soft  mass  ;  this  may 
be  given  with  a  little  canary  seed  for  the  first  day  or  two,  or  millet 
or  wheat ;  newly -giound  sweet  oatmeal  is  good,  but  pungent  rancid 
meal  very  injurious.  The  chickens  do  much  better  if  the  hen  is 
allowed  to  scratch  for  them  than  when  she  is  shut  up  in  a  coop.  If 
1  coop  must  be  used  it  should  be  so  constructed  as  to  include  a  plot 
of  grass  and  be  moved  daily.  The  perches  in  a  hen-house  should 
be  on  one  level,  or  the  fowls  fight  for  the  highest.  All  should  be 
low,  so  that  in  flying  down  the  breast-bone  and  feet  may  not  be 
injured  by  coming  violently  in  contact  with  the  ground. 

Keeping  poultry  without  an  extended  range  in  which  they  can 
obtain  a  large  portion  of  their  own  food  is  not  desirable,  nor  has  the 
establishment  of  poultry-farms,  in  which  large  numbers  of  birds  are 
kept  in  one  locality,  ever  under  any  conditions  been  attended  with 
success.  In  all  cases  in  which  a  large  number  of  fowls  are  congre- 
gated together  the  ground  becomes  contaminated  by  the  excrement 
at  'da  birds ;  the  food  is  eaten  otf  the  sailed  surface  ;  disease  breaks 


out  amongst  the  adults  ;  and  rearing  chickens  snccessfuUy  is  out  of 
the  question.  There  are  no  poultry-farms  in  France,  the  eggs  and 
chickens  being  produced  by  the  peasant-proprietors.  In  England. 
many  poultry-farms  have  been  started,  but  none  have  ever  proved 
successful.  Poultry -rearing  is  an  industry  adapted  to  the  small 
holder,  to  the  rearer  for  home  consumption,  or  as  an  adjunct  to  tha 
work  of  a  large  farm,  but  as  an  industry  of  its  own  it  is  never  likely 
to  be  worked  to  advantage.  There  is  no  difficulty  whatever  in 
hatching  any  number  of  chickens,  but  when  the  young  birds  aro 
crowded  together  and  are  living  on  tainted  soil  they  invariably  be- 
come diseased  and  die  with  extreme  rapidity.  The  conditions  of  a 
crowded  poultry-run  necessarily  resemble  those  of  an  array  encamped 
without  due  sanitary  precautions,  which  cannot  be  adopted  in  tha 
case  Of  the  birds.  The  inevitable  result  is  that  they  perish  of 
diseases  of  a  typhoid  character  which  are  quite  beyond  the  power 
of  the  owners  to  control  or  alleviate. 

Turkeys. — Th"e  origin  of  the  domesticated  turkey  is 
probably  of  a  composite  character  ;  by  Mr  Gould  and  other 
naturalists  this  bird  is  generally  regarded  as  having  been 
derived  from  the  Mexican  species  Meleagris  mexicana ; 
but  this  has  recently  been  crossed  with  the  North-American 
M.  gallo-pavo,  with  great  advantage  as  to  size  and  hardi- 
hood. The  varieties  of  the  turkey  difi'er  chiefly  as  to 
colour.  The  principal  English  breeds  are  the  bronze  or 
Cambridgeshire,  the  black  or  Norfolk,  the  fawn,  and  the 
white.  Of  these  the  first,  especially  when  crossed  with 
the  American,  is  the  largest  and  most  desirable. 

Turkeys  are  not  so  extensively  raised  in  Great  Britain 
as  in  France,  from  a  prevalent  opinion  that  they  are  very 
delicate  and  difficult  to  rear ;  this  idea  arises  in  great  part 
from  errors  in  their  management  and  feeding.  The  chicks, 
when  hatched  after  twenty-eight  days'  incubation,  should 
be  left  undisturbed  for  twenty-four  or  thirty  hours,  during 
which  time  they  are  digesting  the  yoUc  that  is  absorbed 
into  the  intestinal  canal  at  birth.  No  attempt  should  be 
made  to  cram  them  ;  their  first  food  should  consist  of 
sweet  fresh  meal,  soft  custard  made  with  equal  parts  of 
egg  and  milk  set  by  a  gentle  heat,  and,  above  aU,  abun- 
dance of  some  bitter  milky  herb,  as  dandelion,  or,  much 
better,  lettuce  running  to  seed,  on  which  they  can  be 
reared  successfully  with  very  Uttle  food  of  any  other  de- 
scription. The  yoUng  turkeys  progress  much  better  if 
the  hen  has  the  range  of  a  small  enclosure  from  the  first 
than  if  she  is  confined  to  a  coop ;  thus  reared  they  are 
much  hardier  than  when  cooped  and  corn-fed,  and  not  so 
susceptible  to  injury  from  slight  showers ;  but  a  damp 
locality  should  be  avoided.  Turkey-hens  are  most  per- 
severing sitters,  and  are  employed  in  France  to  hatch 
successions  of  sittings  of  hens'  eggs.  Turkeys  can  often 
be  most  advantageously  reared  by  cottagers,  as  one  or 
two  hens  only  can  be  kept,  one  visit  to  the  male  being 
sufficient  to  fertilize  the  entire  batch  of  eggs.  The  young 
turkeys  find  a  larger  proportion  of  their  own  food  than, 
fowls,  and  with  a  good  free  range  cost  but  little  until  they 
are  ready  for  fattening  for  the  table.  In  places  where  tha 
opportunity  serves  they  may  be  allowed  to  roost  in  the 
trees  with  great  advantage.  Some  wild  flocks  treated  like 
pheasants  are  to  be  found  in  several  of  the  large  parks  in 
Scotland  as  well  as  in  England. 

Guinea-fowls.  —  The  Common  Guinea-fowl  (Ifumida. 
meleagris)  is  a  native  of  eastern  Africa,  from  whence  it 
has  been  carried  to  many  parts  of  the  world,  in  some  of 
■which,  as  the  West  Indian  Islands,  it  has  become  wild. 
It  has  also  been  reared  in  a  half -wild  state  in  many  English 
preserves  ;  under  these  conditions  it  flourishes  exceedingly, 
but  has  the  disadvantage  of  driving  away  the  pheasants. 
In  any  dry  locality  guinea-fowls  may  be  successfully  reared, 
provided  they  have  a  good  range  and  trees  in  which  they 
can  roost.  The  hen  lays  an  abundance  of  eggs,  which  are 
generally  hidden.  The  birds  are  useful  as  furnishing  a 
supply  of  poultry  for  the  table  in  the  interval  that  ensues 
between  the  time  when  game  are  out  of  season  and  that 
before  chickens  arrive  at  maturity.  ^  On  a  dry,  sandy, 


POULTRY 


647 


and  chalky  soil  and  in  a  warm  situation  they  are  reared 
with  ease,  but  are  quite  unsuited  to  damp  cold  localities. 
The  continued  vociferation  of  the  hen-birds  renders  their 
maintenance  near  a  house  very  Objectionable,  as  the  cry  is 
continued  throughout  great  part  of  the  night.  Several 
variations  of  colour  exist,  but  they  do  not  require  any 
detailed  description. 

Ducks. — All  the  varieties  of  the  domesticated  duck  are 
descended  from  the  Common  Mallard  or  Wild  Duck,  Anas 
botchas,  a  species  which,  though  timid  in  its  wild  state,  is 
ewily  domesticated,  and  suffers  changes  of  form  and  colour 
in  a  few  generations.  The  most  important  breeds  are — the 
Rouen,  which,  retaining  the  colour  of  the  original  species, 
grows  to  a  large  size ;  the  Aylesbury,  a  large  white  breed 
with  an  expanded  lemon-coloured  bill ;  the  Pekiu,  a  white 
breed  with  a  pale  yellowish  tint  in  the  plumage,  and  a  very 
bright  orange  biU ;  two  breeds  which  are  entirely  black. 
The  smaller  of  these,  which  has  been  bred  dovm  to  a  very 
diminutive  size,  is  remarkable  for  the  extreme  lustre  of  its 
feathers  and  the  fact  that  its  eggs  are  covered  with  a  dark 
black  pigment,  which  becomes  less  in  quantity  as  each  suc- 
cessive egg  is  deposited.  It  is  known  by  the  equally  absurd 
names  of  East  Indian,  Labrador,  or  Buenos  Ayres  duck. 
The  larger  black  variety,  the  Cayuga  duck,  has  been  recently 
introduced  into  England.  Decoy  or  call  ducks  are  small 
breeds  of  a  very  loquacious  character,  which  were  originally 
bred  for  the  purpose  of  attracting  the  wild  birds  to  the 
decoys.  Some  are  of  the  natural  colour,  others  are  white. 
Amongst  the  less  known  breeds  are  the  Duclair  ducks  of 
France,  evidently  the  result  of  crossing  white  and  coloured 
varieties.  Among  the  breeds  differing  in  structure  may 
be  mentioned  the  Penguin  duck,  so  called  from  its  erect 
attitude,  the  Hook-billed  and  the  Tufted  ducks,  <Ssc.,  but 
these  are  not  of  practical  importance.  For  table  and  mar- 
ket purposes  no  breed  surpasses  the  Aylesbury ;  its  large 
size,  great  prolificacy,  early  maturity,  and  white  skin  and 
plumage  cause  it  to  be  reiired  in  immense  numbers  for  the 
London  markets.  By  good  feeding  the  ducks  are  caused 
to  lay  in  the  winter  months,  when  the  eggs  are  hatched 
under  Cochin  or  Brahma  hens,  the  young  ducklings  being 
reared  in  artificially-warmed  buildings  or  in  the  labourers' 
cottages  ;  they  are  fed  most  liberally  on  soft  food,  soaked 
grits,  boiled  rice  with  tallow- melters'  greaves,  and  in  ten 
or  twelve  weeks  are  fit  for  the  market ;  if  killed  before 
raoalting  their  quills,  which  they  do  when  about  twelve 
weeks  old,  they  are  heavier  than  afterwards  and  much 
better  eating.  When  ducklings  are  required  for  the  early 
spring  markets  the  old  birds  must  be  fed  fnost  freely  to 
cause  the  production  of  eggs  in  cold  weather,  corn  being 
given  in  vessels  of  water,  and  the  birds  must  be  shut  up  at 
night,  or  the  eggs  will  be  laid  in  the  water,  where  they 
sink  and  become  putrid.  Duck-rearing  is  a  very  profitable 
industry,  very  high  prices  being  paid  for  ducklings  in  the 
early  months  of  the  year.  The  so-called  Muscovy  duck  is 
a  Brazilian  species,  Cairina  moschata,  which  is  not  reared 
for  the  market,  although  the  young  birds  are  edible.  The 
drake  not  unfrequently  mates  with  the  common  duck,  and 
large  but  sterile  hybrids  are  the  result. 

Geese. — The  domestic  goose  of  Europe  is  undoubtedly 
the  descendant  of  the  migratory  Grey  Lag  Goose,  Anser 
cineretu,  from  which  it  differs  chiefly  by  its  increased  size. 
Although  domesticated  since  the  time  of  the  Romans,  it 
has  not  been  subject  to  much  variation.  The  most  im- 
portant breeds  are  the  large  grey  variety  known,  as  the 
Toulouse,  the  white  breed  known  as  the  Embden,  and  the 
common  variety  frequently  marked  with  dark  feathers  on 
the  back,  and  hence  termed  "saddlebacks."  There  has 
also  been  introduced  from  the  Crimea  since  the  Russian 
war  a  variety  in  which  the  feathers  are  singularly  elongated, 
and  even  curled  and  twisted  ;  this  breed,  which  is  termed 


the  Sebastopol,  is  of  small  size  and  more  important  as  a 
fanci'^rs' breed  than  from  a  practical  point  of  view.  In 
so'-^e  countries  a  second  species  is  domesticated ;  it  is 
usually  termed  the  Chinese,  knob-fronted,  or  swan  goose, 
Anser  cygnoides.  Though  perfectly  distinct  as  a  species, 
having  a  different  number  of  vertebrae  in  the  neck  and  ^ 
loud  clanging  voice,  it  breeds  freely  with  the  common  goose, 
and  the  hybrids  produced  are  perfectly  fertile,  the  late  Mi 
Blyth  asserting  that  over  a  large  tract  of  country  in  th« 
East  no  other  geese  except  these  cross-breds  are  ever  seen. 
Geese  are  much  more  exclusively  vegetable-feeders  than 
ducks,  and  can  only  be  kept  to  profit  where  they  can  obtain 
a  large  proportion  of  their  food  by  grazing.  The  old  bird* 
should  not  be-iilled  off,  as  they  continue  fertile  to  a  great 
age.  Geese  are  readily  fattened  on  oats  thrown  into  water, 
and  the  young,  when  brought  rapidly  forward  for  the 
markets,  afford  a  very  good  profit.  The  Chinese,  if  well 
fed,  lay  at  a  much  earlier  date  than  the  common  species, 
and,  if  their  eggs  are  hatched  under  large  Cochin  hens, 
giving  three  or  four  to  each  bird,  the  young  are  ready  foi 
the  table  at  a  very  early  period.  The  nest,  as  in  all  cases 
of  ground-nesting  birds,  should  be  made  on  the  earth  and 
not  in  boxes,  which  become  too  dry  and  over-heated.  Ir 
breeding  for  the  market  or  for  the  sake  of  profit,  the  verj 
large  exhibition  birds  should  be  avoided,  as  many  are  barret 
from, over-fatness,  and  none  are  so  prolific  as  birds  of  fau 
average  size. 

In  this  article  the  Pea-fowl  (see  Peacock,  vol.  xviii.  p. 
443)  has  not  been  included,  as,  although  long  since  domes- 
ticated, it  is  to  be  regarded  rather  as  an  ornamental  than 
as  a  useful  bird,  and  in  congenial  localities  in  which  it  can 
avail  itself  of  the  shelter  of  trees  it  requires  no  manage- 
ment whatever  beyond  feeding,  nor  should  the  slightest 
interference  with  the  sitting  hen  be  practised. 

Pigeons. — All  the  different  breeds  of  pigeons  which  are 
knoiyn  to  the  fancier  have  descended  from  the  wild  blile 
Rock-dove,  Columba  livia,  and  return  to  the  coloration 
and  form  of  the  wild  original  if  allowed  to  interbreed 
without  interference.  When  reared  as  articles  of  food 
pigeons  are  generally  treated  most  disadvantageously ; 
with  due  care  and  proper  management  six  or  seven  couples 
of  young  can  be  raised  from  each  old  pair  during  the  year, 
and  a  continuous  supply  of  young  birds  for  the  table  can 
be  depended  on.  The  ordinary  pigeons'  houses  are  most 
objectionable,  the  birds  being  exposed  to  rain-and  extremes 
of  temperature  at  all  seasons.  To  bo  reared  successfully 
pigeons  should  be  housed  in  a  room  or  loft,  with  shelves 

9  or  10  inches  in  width  running  round  the  walls  about 

10  inches  apart;  each  shelf  should  be  divided  into  com- 
partments not  less  than  16  inches  loijg;  this  arrangement 
gives  room  for  a  nest  at  each  end  and  enables  the  old  birds 
to  go  to  nest  again  before  the  young  are  able  to  fly.  If 
coarse  earthen  saucers  or  nest-pans  are  used  the  young  will 
be  kept  out  of  the  dung,  which  is  ejected  over  the  sides  and 
can  be  easily  removed.  They  are  first  fed  with  a  secretion 
from  tho  crops  of  the  parents,  and  afterwards  with  dis- 
gorged corn;  when  required  for  the  table  they  should  bo 
killed  before  tho  old  birds  cease  to  feed  them,  as  when 
they  begin  to  feed  themselves  they  lose  weight,  become 
thin,  and  are  much  less  marketable.  To  obtain  a  con- 
tinuous supply  of  young  pigeons  tho  old  birds  must  bo  well 
fed  with  grain  and  pulse ;  clean  water  and  a  supply  of  old 
mortar  rubbish  mixed  with  salt  should  be  always  access* 
ible  ;  tho  loft  and  neat  should  bo  kept  clean  and  wclf 
ventilated,  and  the  birds  have  free  access  to  tho  open  air. 
Tho  breed  should  bo  of  fair  size,  the  blue  rocks  being  too 
smalf  to  be  of  full  market  value  as  dead  birds,  though  in 
great  request  for  pigeon-shooting,  and,  unless  a  consider- 
able number  are  kept  so  as  to  prevent  close  interbreeding, 
some  birds  from  other  lofts  should  bo  introduced  occasion- 


648 


P  O  U  — P  O  U 


ally.  The  numerous  fancy  breeds  and  those  employed  for 
conveying  messages  (see  vol.  xiii.  p.  159  and  p.  581  supra) 
do  not  fall  within  the  scope  of  this  article.       (w.  b.  t.) 

POUND,  an  enclosure  in  which  cattle  or  other  animals 
found  straying  are  retained  until  they  are  redeemed  by 
the  owners,  or  when  taken  in  distraint  untU  replevined, 
such  retention  being  in  the  nature  of  a  pledge  or  seciu-ity 
to  compel  the  performance  of  satisfaction  for  debt  or 
damage  done.  A.  pound  belongs  to  the  township  or  village 
and  should  be  kept  in  repair  by  the  parish.  The  pound- 
keeper  is  obliged  to  receive  everything  offered  to  his 
custody  and  is  not  answerable  if  the  thing  offered  be  ille- 
gally impounded.  By  the  statute  1  and  2  Phil,  and  Mary 
c.  12  (1554),  no  distress  of  cattle  can  be  driven  out  of  the 
hundred  where  taken  unless  to  a  pound  within  3  miles 
of  the  place  of  seizure.  Where  cattle  are  impounded  the 
impounder  is  bound  to  supply  them  with  sufficient  food 
and  water  (12  and  13  Vict.  c.  92,  and  17  and  18  Vict.  c. 
60) ;  any  person,  moreover,  is  authorized  to  enter  a  place 
where  animals  are  impounded  without  food  and  water  more 
than  twelve  hours  and  supply  them  without  being  liable  to 
an  action  for  such  entry,  and  the  cost  of  such  food  is  to  be 
paid  by  the  owner  of  the  animal  before  it  is  removed.  The 
statute  2  WiU.  and  Mary,  sess.  1  c.  5  (1690),  gives  treble 
damages  and  costs  against  persons  guilty  of  pound  breach  • 
and  by  6  and  7  Vict.  c.  30  (1843)  persons  releasing  or 
attempting  to  release  cattle  impounded  or  damaging  any 
pound  are  liable  to  a  fine  not  exceeding  £5,  awardable 
to  the  person  on  whose  behalf  the  cattle  were  distrained, 
with  imprisonment  with  hard  labour  not  exceeding  three 
months  in  default.  In  the  old  law  books  a  distinction  is 
drawn  between  a  common  pound,  an  open  pound,  and  a 
close  pound ;  these  terms  have  now,  however,  lost  much  of, 
if  not  all,  their  significance.  By  statute  1 1  Geo.  11.  c.  1 9 
(1738),  which  was  passed  for  the  benefit  of  landlords,  any 
person  distraining  for  rent  may  turn  any  part  of  the 
premises  upon  which  a  distress  is  taken  into  a  pound  pro 
hoc  vice  for  securing  of  such  distress. 

POUSHKIN,  Alexander  (1799-1837),  the  most  cele- 
brated of  Kussian  poets,  was  bom  at  Moscow,  7th  June 
1799.  He  belonged  to  an  ancient  family  of  boyars,  and 
in  a  clever  poem,  many  of  the  sallies  of  which  were  too 
trenchant  to  pass  the  censorship,  he  has  sketched  some  of 
the  more  important  of  his  progenitors.  A  strange  ancestor 
was  his  maternal  great-grandfather,  a  favourite  Negro 
ennobled  by  Peter  the  Great,  who  bequeathed  to  him  the 
curly  hair  of  his  race  and  a  somewhat  darker  complexion 
than  falls  to  the  lot  of  the  ordinary  Russian. 

In  1811  the  poet  entered  the  newly-founded  lyceum  of 
Tzarskoe  Selo,  situated  near  St  Petersburg.  To  his  stay 
in  this  college  Poushkin  has  alluded  in  many  of  his  poems. 
On  quitting  the  lyceum  in  1817  he  was  attached  to  the 
ministry  of  foreign  affairs,  and  in  this  year  he  began  the 
composition  of  his  Rnslan  and  Ly'udmila,  a  poem  which 
was  completed  in  1820.  The  scene  is  laid  at  Kieff,  in  the 
time  of  Vladimir,  the  "bright  sun"  of  the  old  Russian 
legends.  Meanwhile  Poushkin  mixed  in  all  the  gayest 
society  of  the  capital,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  would  turn 
out  a  mere  man  of  fashion  instead  of  a  poet.  But  an  event 
occurred  which,  however  disastrous  it  might  appear  to  him 
at  first  sight,  was  fraught  with  the  happiest  consequences 
to  his  muse.  A  very  daring  Ode  to  Liberty  written  by 
him  had  been  circulated  in  manuscript  in  St  Petersburg. 
This  production  having  been  brought  to  the  notice  of  the 
governor,  the  young  author  only  escaped  a  journey  to 
Siberia  by  accepting  an  oflScial  position  at  Eashineff  in 
Bessarabia,  in  southern  Russia.  Here  he  found  himself 
surrounded  by  a  world  of  new  associations.  If  we  follow 
the  chronological  order  of  his  poems,  we  can  trace  with 
■what  enthusiasm  he  greeted  the  ever-changing  prospects 


of  the  sea  and  the  regions  of  the  Danube  and  the  Crimea. 
In  some  elegant  Lines  he  sang  the  Fountain  of  Bakhchisarai, 
the  old  palace  of  the  khans  near  Simpheropol.  This  foun- 
tain and  the  legend  connected  with  it  he  afterwards  made 
the  subject  of  a  longer  poem. 

At  this  time  Poushkin  was,  or  affected  to  be,  overpowered 
by  the  Byronic  "Weltschmerz."  Having  visited  the  baths 
of  the  Caucasus  for  the  re-establishment  of  his  health  in 
1822,  he  felt  the  inspiration  of  its  magnificent  scenery,  and 
composed  his  next  production  of  any  considerable  length, 
The  Prisoner  of  the  Caucasus,  narrating  the  story  of  the 
love  of  a  Circassian  girl  for  a  youthful  Russian  officer  who 
has  been  taken  prisoner.  This  was  followed  by  the  Foun- 
tain of  Bakhchisarai,  which  tells  of  the  detention  of  a  young 
Polish  captive,  a  Countess  Potocka,  in  the  palace  of  the 
khans  of  the  Crimea.  About  the  same  time  he  composed 
some  interesting  lines  on  Ovid,  whose  place  of  banishment, 
Tomi,  was  not  far  distant.  To  this  period  belongs  also  the 
Ode  to  Napoleon,  which  is  far  inferior  to  the  fine  poems  of 
Byron  and  Manzoni,  or  indeed  of  Lermontoff,  on  the  same 
subject.  In  the  Lay  concerning  the  Wise  Oleg  we  see  how 
the  influence  of  Karanmn's  History  had  led  the  Russians  to 
take  a  greater  interest  in  the  early  records  of  their  country. 
The  next  long  poem  was  the  Gipsies  (Tzuigani),  an  Oriental 
tale  of  love  and  vengeance,  in  which  Poushkin  has  admir- 
ably delineated  these  nomads,  whose  strange  mode  of 
life  fascinated  him.  During  his  stay  in  southern  Russia 
he  allowed  himself  to  get  mixed  up  with  the  secret  societies 
then  rife  throughout  the  country.  He  also  became  em- 
broiled with  his  chief,  Coimt  Vorontzoff,  who  sent  him  to 
report  upon  the  damages  which  had  been  committed  by 
locusts  in  the  southern  part  of  Bessarabia.  Poushkin  took 
this  as  a  premeditated  insult,  and  sent  in  his  resignation ; 
and  Count  Vorontzoff  in  his  official  report  requested  the 
Grovemment  to  remove  the  poet,  "as  he  was  surrounded 
by  a  society  of  political  and  Uterary  fanatics,  whose  praises 
might  turn  his  head  and  make  him  believe  that  he  was  a 
great  writer,  whereas  he  was  only  a  feeble  imitator  of  Lord 
Byron,  an  original  not  much  to  be  commended."  The 
poet  quitted  Odessa  in  1824,  and  on  leaving  wrote  a  fine 
Ode  to  the  Sea.  Before  the  close  of  the  year  he  had 
returned  to  his  father's  seat  at  Mikhailovskoe,  near  Pskoff, 
where  he  soon  became  embroiled  with  his  relatives,  but 
grew  more  at  ease  when  the  veteran,  who  led  the  life  of 
reckless  expenditure  of  the  old-fashioned  Russian  boyar, 
betook  himself  to  the  capital.  The  father  survived  his 
celebrated  son,  and  it  was  to  him  that  Zhukovski  addressed 
a  pathetic  letter,  giving  him  an  account  of  his  death.  Hia 
mother  died  a  year  before  her  son ;  and  Poushkin,  when 
choosing  a  burial-place  for  her,  marked  out  a  spot  for 
himself  and  expressed  a  presentiment  that  he  had  not  long 
to  live.  He  had  now  involved  himself  in  trouble  on  all 
sides ;  for  so  obnoxious  had  he  become  to  the  authorities 
even  during  his  retreat  in  the  country  that  he  was  put 
under  the  supervision  of  the  governor,  the  marshal  of  the 
nobility,  and  the  archimandrite  of  the  neighbouring  mon- 
astery of  Svyatogorski.  In  his  retirement  he  devoted  a 
great  deal  of  time  to  the  study  of  the  old  Russian  popular 
poetry,  the  builinas,  of  which  he  became  a  great  admirer. 
Recollections  of  Byron  and  Andr6  Chenier  gave  the  inspira- 
tion to  some  fine  lines  consecrated  to  the  latter,  in  which 
Poushkin  appeared  more  conservative  than  was  his  wont, 
and  wrote  in  a  spirit  antagonistic  to  the  French  Revolution. 
In  1825  he  published  his  tragedy  Boris  Godunoff,  a  bold 
effort  to  imitate  the  style  of  Shakespeare.  Up  to  this  time 
the  traditions  of  the  Russian  stage,  such  as  it  was,  had 
been  French.  Plays  of  all  kinds  had  appeared, — transla- 
tions of  Molifere,  Corneille,  and  Racine,  or  adaptations  of 
them,  and  even  glimpses  of  Shakespeare  conveyed  through 
the  medium  of  the  paltry  versions  of  Duels. 


P  O  U  — P  o  u 


64'^ 


In  1825  the  unfortunate  conspiracy  of  the  Dekabrists 
broke  out,  the  ostensible  aim  of  which  was  to  defend  the 
claims  of  the  grand-duke  Coastantine  against  his  brother 
Nicholas,  but  the  real  purpose  was  to  set  up  a  republican 
form  of  government  in  Russia,  for  which  the  country  was 
not  by  any  means  prepared.  Many  of  the  conspirators 
were  personal  friends  of  Poushkin,  especially  Kuchelbecker 
and  Pustchin.  The  poet  liimself  was  to  a  certain  extent 
comoromised,  but  he  succeeded  in  getting  to  his  house  at 
Mikhailovskoe  iir.d  burninje  all  the  papers  which  might 
have  been  prejudicial  to  him.  He  had  resoJved  to  go  to 
St  Petersburg,  possibly  to  throw  in  his  lot  with  his  fnends 
there,  but  was  stopped  by  what  are  considered  portents  by 
the  Russian  people.  As  soon  as  he  had  left  the  gates  of 
his  house  he  met  a  priest,  and  he  had  not  gone  a  verst 
before  three  hares  crossed  his  path.  These  were  such  bad 
omens  that  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do,  as  a  genuine 
Russian  and  at  all  times  a  superstitious  man,  but  to  return 
home  at  once.  Through  influential  friends  he  succeeded 
in  making  his  peace  with  the  emperor,  to  whom  he  was 
presented  at  Moscow  soon  after  his  coronation.  The  story 
goes  that  Nicholas  said  to  Count  Bludoff  on  the  same 
evening,  "I  have  just  been  conversing  with  the  most  viritty 
man  in  Russia."  In  1828  appeared  Poltava,  a  spirited 
narrative  poem,  in  which  the  expedition  of  Charles  XII. 
against  Peter  and  the  treachery  of  the  hetman  Mazepp\ 
were  described.  The  best  part  of  the  poem  is  the  picture 
of  the  battle  itself,  where  the  colours  arc  laid  on  very 
boldly.  In  1829  Poushkin  again  visited  the  Caucasus, 
on  this  occasion  accompanying  the  expedition  of  Prince 
Paskewitch.  He  wrote  a  pleasing  account  of  the  tour ; 
many  of  the  short  lyrical  pieces  suggested  by  the  scenery 
and  associations  of  his  visit  are  delightful,  especially  the 
lines  on  the  Don  and  the  Caucasus.  In  1831  Poushkin 
married  Mademoiselle  Natalia  Goncharoff,  and  in  the  fol- 
lowing year  was  again  attached-  to  the  ministry  of  foreign 
affairs,  with  a  salary  of  5000  roubles.  He  now  busied 
himself  with  an  historical  work,  an  account  of  the  revolt 
of  the  Cossack  Pugacheff,  who  almost  overthrew  the 
empire  of  Catherine  and  was  executed  at  Moscow  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  18th  century.  While  engaged  upon  this 
he  wrote  The  Captain's  t}aughter,  one  of  the  best  of  his 
prose  works.  In  1832  was  completed  the  poem  Eugene 
Onyegin,  in  which  the  author  attempted  a  completely  new 
style,  moulding  his  production  upon  the  lighter  sketches  of 
Byron  in  the  Italian  manner.  The  poem  is,  on  the  whole, 
very  successful.  The  metre  is  graceful  and  sprightlyand  well 
adapted  for  serio-comic  verse.  The  characters  of  Lenski, 
Onyegin,  Tatiana,  and  Olga  are<drawn  with  a  vigorous  hand, 
and  each  is  a  type.  No  one  can  accuse  Poushkin  of  want 
of  nationalism  in  this  poem  :  it  is  Russian  in  every  fibre. 

In  1837  the  poet,  who  had  been  long  growing  in  literary 
reputation,  fell  mortally  wounded  in  a  duel  with  Baron 
George  Heckeren  d'Anthfes,  the  adopted  son  of  the  Dutch 
minister  then  resident  at  the  court  of  St  Petersburg. 
D'Anthfes,  a  vain  and  frivolous  young  man,  had  married 
a  sister  of  the  poet's  wife.  Notwithstanding  this  ho 
aroused  Poushkin's  jealousy  by  some  attentions  which  he 
paid  Natalia;  but  the  grounds  for  the  poet's  anger,  it 
must  be  confessed,  do  not  appear  very  great.  Poushkin 
died,  after  two  days'  suffering,  on  the  afternoon  of  Friday, 
10th  February.  D'Anthfes  was  tried  by  court-martial  and 
expelled  the  country.  In  the  year  1 880  a  statue  of  the 
poet  was  erected  at  the  Tver  Barrier  at  Moscow,  and  f6tes 
were  held  in  his  honour  jn  which  occasion  many  interest- 
ing memorials  of  him  were  exhibited  to  his  admiring 
countrymen  and  a  few  foreigners  who  had  congregated  for 
the  festivities.  The  poet  left  four  children ;  his  widow 
was  afterwards  manied  to  an  ofEcer  in  the  army  named 
Lanakoi ;  she  died  in  1863. 


Poushkin  remains  as  yet  the  greatest  poet  whom  Russia  has 
prsduced.  Th«  most  celebrated  names  before  him  were  those  cf 
Loinonosoff  and  Derzhavin  ;  the  former  was  a  composer  of  merely 
scholastic  verses,  and  the  latter,  in  spite  of  great  merits,  was  too 
much  wedded  to  the  pedantries  of  the  classical  school.  Since  Poush- 
kin's death,  Lermon  toff  and  Nekrasoff  have  appeared,  both  distinctly 
writers  of  genius,  but  they  are  confessedly  inferior  to  him.  His 
poetical  tales  are  spirited  and  full  of  dramatic  power.  The  influence 
of  Byron  is  undouotedly  seen  in  them,  but  they  are  not  imitations, 
still  less  is  anything  in  them  plagiarized-  Boris  Oodunoff  is  a 
fine  tragedy  ;  on  the  whole  Eugene  Onyegin  must  be  considered 
Poushkin's  masterpiece.  Here  we  have  a  great  variety  of  styles — 
satire,  pathos,  end  humour  mixed  together.  The  character-paint- 
ing is  good,  and  the  descriptions  of  scenery  introduced  faithful  to 
nature.  The  poem  in  many  places  reminds  us  of  Byron,  who  him- 
self in  his  mixture  of  the  pathetic  and  the  humorous  was  a  disciple 
of  the  Italian  school.  Poushkin  also  wrote  a  great  many  lyrical 
pieces.  Interspersed  among  the  poet's  minor  works  will  be  found 
many  epigrams,  but  some  of  the  best  composed  by  him  were  not  so 
fortunate  as  to  pass  the  censorship,  and  must  be  read  in  a  supple- 
mentary volume  published  at  Berlin.  As  a  prose  writer  Poushkin 
has  considerable  merits.  Besides  his  History  of  the  Revolt  of 
Pugacheff,  which  is  perhaps  too  much  of  a  compilation,  he  pub- 
lished a  small  volume  of  tales  under  the  nom  de  plume  of  Ivan 
Byelkin.  These  all  show  considerable  dramatic  power  ;  the  best 
are  The  Captain's  Daughter,  a  tale  of  the  times  of  Catherine  II., 
The  Undertaker,  a  very  ghostly  story,  which  will  remind  the  English 
reader  of  some  of  the  tales  of  Edgar  Poe ;  The  Pistol  Shot ;  and  The 
Queen  of  Spades.  Of  the  letters  of  Poushkin,  which  originally  were 
to  be  found  scattered  over  many  magazines  and  literary  journals, 
a  fairly  complete  collection  was  published  in  the  new  edition  of  his 
works  which  appeared  at  Moscow  under  the  editorship  of  M. 
Yefrimoff.  (W.  R.  M.) 

POUSSIN,  Nicolas  (1594-1665),  French  painter,  was 
born  at  Les  Andelys  (Eure)  in  June  1594.  Early  sketches, 
made  when  he  should  have  been  learning  Latin,  attracted 
the  notice  of  Quentin  Varin,  a  local  painter,  whose  pupil 
Poussin  became,  till  hCwent  to  Paris,  where  he  entered 
the  studio  of  Ferdinand  Elle,  a  Fleming,  and  then  of  the 
Lorrainer  L'Allemand.  He  found  French  art  in  a  stage  of 
transition :  the  old  apprenticeship  system  was  disturbed, 
and  the  academical  schools  destined  to  supplant  it  were 
not  yet  established ;  but,  having  been  brought  into  rela- 
tions with  Courtois  the  mathematician,  Poussin  was  fired 
by  the  study  of  his  collection  of  engravings  after  Italian 
masters,  and  resolved  to  go  to  Italy.  After  two  abortive 
attempts  to  reach  Rome,  and  when  he  was  again  on  the 
••oad,  he  fell  in  with  the  chevalier  Marini  at  Lyons.  Marini 
employed  him  on  illustrations  to  his  poems,  took  him  into 
Iris  household,  and  in  1624  enabled  Poussin  (who  had  been 
detained  by  commissions  in  Lyons  and  Paris)  to  rejoin  him 
at  Rome.  There,  his  patron  having  died,  Poussin  fell  into 
great  distress  ;  but  his  high  qualities  had  won  him  friends 
amongst  his  brother  artists,  and  on  his  falling  ill  he  was 
received  into  the  house  of 'his  compatriot  Dughct  and 
tenderly  nursed  by  his  daughter  Anna  Maria,  to  whom  in 
1629,  when  his  affairs  were  easier,  Poussin  was  married. 
Amongst  his  first  patrons  were  Cardinal  Barberini,  for 
whom  was  painted  the  Death  of  Qermanicus  (BarJ)erini 
Palace);  Cardinal  Omodei,  for  whom  he  produced,  in  1630, 
the  Triumphs  of  Flora  (Louvre) ;.  Cfirdinal  de  Richelieu^ 
who  commissioned  a  Bacchanal  (Louvre) ;  Vicenzo  Giusti. 
niani,  for  whom  was  executed  the  Massacre  of  the  Inno. 
cents,  of  which  there  is  a  first  sketch  in  .the  British 
Museum ;  Cassiano  dal  Pozzo,  who  became  the  owner  of 
the  firr.t  series  of  the  Seven  Sacraments  (Bolvoir  Castle)  ; 
and  Fi&irt  de  Chanteloup,  with  whom  in  1640  Poussin, 
at  the  call  of  Sublet  De  Noyers,  returned  to  Franco.  Ho 
was  well  received  by  Louis  XIII.,  who  conferred  on  him 
the  title  of  "  first  painter  in  c.dinary,"  and  in  two  years 
at  Paris  he  produced  not  only  several  pictures  for  the 
royal  chapels  (the  Last  Supper,  painted  for  Versailles,  now 
in  the  Louvre)  but  eight  cartoons  for  the  Gobelins,  the 
series  of  the  Labours  of  Hercules  for  the  Louvre,  the 
Triumph  of  Truth  for  Cardinal  Richelieu  (Louvre),  and 
much  minor  work;  but  in  1643,  annryed  and  disgusted 

XIX.  —  82 


650 


P  O  U  —  P  O  Z 


by  the  intrigues  of  Simon  Vouet,  Feuquicres,  ana  the 
architect  Lemercier,  Poussin  withdrew  to  Rome.  There, 
in  1648,  he  finished  for  De  Chanteloup  the  second  series 
of  the  Seven  Sacraments  (Bridgewater  Gallery),  and  also 
his  noble  landscape  with  Diogenes  throwing  away  his  Scoop 
(Louvre);  in  1649  he  painted  the  Vision  of  St  Paul 
(Louvre)  for  the  comic  poet  Scarron,  and  in  1651  the 
Holy  Family  (Louvre)  for  the  duke  of  Crequi.  Year  by 
year  he  continued  to  produce  an  enormous  variety  of 
works,  many  of  which  are  included  in  the  list  given  by 
Felibien,  in  which  we  find  the  names  of  Pointel  the  banker. 
Cardinal  Manimo,  Madame  Mauroi,  and. others.  He  is  said 
to  have  settled  in  a  house  on  the  Pincio,  but  in  1656,  the 
year  of  the  plague,  he  is  entered  in  the  census  as  living 
with  his  wife  in  the  Via  Paolina.  He  died  in  November 
1665  and  was  buried  in  the  church  of  St  Lawrence  in 
Lucina,  his  wife  having  predeceased  him. 

The  finest  collection  of  Poussiu's  paintings  as  well  as  of  his 
drawings  is  possessed  by  the  LomTC  ;  but,  besides  the  pictures  in 
the  National  G.-Ulcry  and  at  Duhvich,  England  possesses  several  of 
his  most  considerable  works  :  the  Triumph  of  Pan  is  at  Basildon 
(Berkshire),  and  his  great  allegorical  painting  of  the  Arts  at 
Knonsley.  At  Rome,  iu  the  Colonna  and  Valentini  Palaces,  are 
notable  works  by  him,  and  one  of  Ihe  private  apartments  of  Prince 
Doria  is  decorated  by  a  great  series  of  landscapes  in  distemper, 
which  are  little  known.  Throughout  his  life  he  stood  aloof  from 
the  popular  movement  of  his  native  school.  French  art  in  his  day 
was  purely  decorative,  but  in  Poussin  we  find  a  survival  of  the 
impulses  of  the  Renaissance  coupled  with  conscious  reference  to 
classic  work  as  the  standard  of  excellence.  In  general  we  see  his 
paintings  at  a  great  disadvantage,  for  the  colour,  even  of  the  best 
preserved,  has  changed  in  parts,  so  that  the  keeping  is  disturbed  ; 
and  the  noble  construction  of  his  designs  can  be  better  seen  in 
engravings  than  in  the  original.  Amongst  the  many  who  have 
reproduced  his  works  the  two  Audran,  Claudine  Stella,  Picart,  and 
Pesne  are  the  most  successful. 

Poussin  left  uo  children,  but  he  adopted  as  his  son  Caspar  Dughet, 
his  wife's  brother,  who  took  the  name  of  Poussin.  G.iSPAS  Poussin 
(1613-1675)  devoted  himself  to  laadscape  painting  and  rendered 
admirably  the  severer  beauties  of  the  Roman  Campagna  ;  a  note- 
worthy series  of  works  in  tempera  representing  various  sites  near 
Rome  is  to  bo  seen  in  the  Colonna  Palace,  but  one  of  his  finest 
easel-pictures,  the  Sacrifice  of  Abraham,  formerly  the  property  of 
the  Colonna,  is  now,  with  other  works  by  the  same  painter,  in  the 
English  National  Gallery.  The  frescos  executed  by  Caspar  Poussin 
in  S.  Martino  di  Monti  are  in  a  bad  state  of  preservation.  The 
Louvre  does  not  possess  a  single  work  by  his  hand.  Caspar  died 
at  Rome  in  1675. 

Sandrart,  Acad.  nob.  arf,  pict. ;  Lettres  d<  Nicolas  Poussin  (Paris,  1824) ;  Feli- 
bien, Entretiens 't  Gault  de  St  Gerraain,  Vie  de  Nicolas  Poussin  \  D'Argenville, 
Abrcgi  de  la  Vie  dis  Peintres ;  Bouchitt^,  Poussin  ct  son  (Euvre ;  Emilia  F.  S. 
Pattison,  "DocumenU  inedits,  Le  Poussin,"  in  L'Art  (18S2). 

POUT,  also  Whiting-Pout  or  Bm  (Gadus  luscus),  a  small 
species  of  cod-fish  locally  abundant  on  the  coasts  of  northern 
and  western  Europe,  but  less  so  in  the  Mediterranean.  It 
is  distinguished  from  other  spedes  of  the  genus  Gadus  by 
having  a  deep  short  body ;  a  short  and  obtuse  snout,  not 
longer  than  the  eye ;  the  upper  jaw  the  longer ;  and  a 
long  barbel  at  the  chin.  The  three  dorsal  fins  are  com- 
posed of  respectively  twelve,  twenty  or  twenty-two,  and 
nineteen  or  twenty  rays,  the  two  anal  fins  of  from  twenty- 
nine  to  thirty-two  and  nineteen  or  twenty.  A  black  spot 
occupies  the  upper  part  of  the  base  of  the  pectoral  fin. 
Pout  affect  certain  localities'  of  limited  extent,  where  a 
number  may  be  caught  with  hook  and  line.  They  are 
excellent  food,  but  must  be  eaten  soon  after  capture,  and 
do  not  bear  carriage.  A  oout  of  5  tt)  is  considered  a  very 
large  specimen. 

POWAN,  or  PowEN  (Coreffonus  dupeoides),  a  species  of 
the  Salmonoid  genus  Coregonus,  which  seems  to  be  peculiar 
to  Loch  Lomond  in  Scotland,  the  great  lakes  of  Cumber- 
land, where  it  is  called  "  schelly,"  and  Lake  Bala  in  Wales, 
the  Welsh  name  of  the  fish  being  "  gwyniad."  It  is  not 
found  in  other  European  waters ;  but  of  the  numerous 
Continental  species  of  this  genus  the  lavaret  of  the  Swiss 
lakes  resembles  it  most.  Powan,  or,  as  they  are  sometimes 
called,  freshwater  herrings  Uve  in  the  deepest  parts  pf  tie 


lakes  mentioned  and  come  to  the  surface  only  occasionally, 
either  in  the  winter  time  in  order  to  spawn,  or  at  certain 
times  of  the  day  during  summer,  approaching,  it  is  said, 
the  shores  in  search  of  food.  Large  numbers  may  then  be 
taken  with  nets,  and  are  mostly  consumed  on  the  spot. 
The  powan  rarely  exceeds  a  length  of  1 4  inches ;  it  has 
been  fuUy  described  and  figured  by  ParneU  (AnnaU  of 
Natural  History,  1838,  vol.  i.  p.  162)  under  the  names 
of  Coregonus  lacepedei  and  Coregoniis  microcephalus ;  tho 
specimens  to  which  the  latter  name  was  given  are,  however, 
not  specifically  different  from  the  tj-pical  powan. 

POWERS,  Hiram  (1807-1873),  American  sculptor,  was 
tne  son  of  a  farmer,  and  was  born  at  Woodstock,  Vermont, 
on  29th  June  1807.  In  1819  his  father  removed  to  a  farm 
in  Ohio,  about  six  miles  from  Cincinnati,  where  the  son 
attended  school  for  about  a  year,  staying  meanwhile  with 
his  brother,  a' lawyer  in  Cincinnati.  After  leaving  school 
he  found  employment  in  superintending  a  reading-room  in 
connexion  with  the  chief  hotel  of  the  town,  but,  being,  in 
his  own  words,  "forced  at  last  to  leave  that  place  as  h'- 
clothes  and  shoes  were  fast  leaving  him,"  he  became  a  clerk 
in  a  general  store.  His  second  employer  in  this  line  of 
business  having  invested  his  capital  in  a  clock  and  organ 
factory.  Powers  set  himself  to  master  the  construction  of 
the  instruments,  displaying  an  aptitude  which  in  a  short 
titne  enabled  him  to  become  the  first  mechanic  in  the  fac- 
tory. 'In  1826  he  began  to  frequent  the  studio  of  Mr 
Eckstein,  and  at  once  conceived  a  strong  passion  for  the 
art  of  sculpture.  His  proficiency  in  modelling  secured 
him  the  situation  of  general  assistant  and  artist  of  the 
Western  Museum,  kept  by  a  Frenchman,  M.  Dorfeiiille, 
where  his  ingenious  representation  of  the  infernal  regions 
to  illustrate  the  more  striking  scenes  in  the  poem  of  Danta 
met  with  extraordinary  success.  After  studjnng  thoroughly 
the  art  of  modelling  and  casting,  he  in  the  end  of  1834 
went  to  Washington,  and  a  friend  having  secured  for  him 
as  sitters  the  president  and  some  of  the  leading  statesmen 
his  remarkable  gifts  soon  awakened  general  attention.  In 
1837  he  settled  in  Florence,  where  he  remained  till  his 
death.  While  from  pecuniary  considerations  he  found  it 
necessary  to  devote  the  greater  part  of  his  time  to  busts, 
his  best  efforts  were  bestowed  on  ideal  work.  In  1838 
his  statue  of  Eve  excited  the  warm  admiration  of  Thor- 
waldsen,  and  in  1839  he  produced  his  celebrated  Greek 
Slave,  which  at  once  gave  him  a  place  among  the  greatest 
sculptors  of  his  time.  Among  the  best  known  of  his  other 
ideal  statues  are  the  Fisher  Boy,  II  Penseroso,  Proserpine, 
California,  America  (modelled  for  the  Crystal  Palace, 
Sydenham),  and  the  Last  of  his  Tribe.  Among  the  eminent 
men  whose  busts  he  modelled  are  many  of  the  leading  con- 
temporary statesmen  of  America.  His  genius  was  strik- 
ingly realistic  and  unconventional,  a  quality  doubtless  in 
some  degree  attributable  to  the  nature  of  his  early  training, 
but  it  was  the  close  and  thorough  study  of  the  works  of 
the  great  masters  which  finally  disciplined  his  powers  to 
their  highest  perfection  of  purity  and  refinement.  He 
died  on  27th  June  1873. 

Among  various  obituary  notices  of  Powers  one  of  the  most  int«r- 
esting  is  that  by  his  intimate  friend  T.  A.  TroUope  in  LifpincoU'i 
Magantie  for  February  1875. 

POZZO  DI  BORGO,  Caelo  Aoteea  (1764-1842), 
Russian  diplomatist,  was  descended  from  an  old  Corsican 
family,  and  was  born  at  Alata  near  Ajaccio  on  8th  March 
1764.  After  completing  his  legal  studies  at  Pisa  he 
became  advocate  at  Ajaccio,  where  in  1790  he  joined  the 
party  of  Paoli,  to  whom  the  Buonaparte  family  was  strongly 
opposed.  In  his  early  years  he  had  been  on  terms  ''f  >he 
closest  intimacy  with  Napoleon,  but  from  this  time  a  feel- 
ing of  enmity  sprang  up  between  them,  which  on  the  part 
of  Pozzo  di  Borgo  increased  as  the  career  of  Napoleon 


F  O  Z  — P  R  A 


651 


developed,  until  it  became  the  ruling  passion  of  his  life. 
Ultimately  his  hatred  of  Napoleon  knew  no  bounds,  and, 
regarding  him  as  the  "scourge  of  the  world,"  he  sought 
to  compass  his  ruin  with  a  pertinacity  which  discourage- 
ments and  difficulties  served  only  to  whet  and  kindle  into 
redoubled  ardour.  In-  1794  he  was  chosen  president  of 
the  Board  of  Council,  under  the  English  viceroy,  and  when 
the  British  were  expelled  from  the  island  in  1797  he  went 
to  London,  where  he  carried  on  a  secret  mission  on  behalf 
of  the  Bourbons.  At  Vienna  in  1798  he  assisted  in  effect- 
ing a  coalition  between  Austria  and  Russia  against  France, 
and  in  1803  he  entered  the  Russian  service,  where  he 
became  councillor  of  state,  and  was  employed  by  the  czar 
in  all  his  most  important  diplomatic  negotiations.  He 
attempted  in  vain  to  form  a  new  coalition  after  the  battle 
of  Jena,  and  retired,  first  to  Austria,  then  to  England. 
Recalled  to  Russia  in  1812,  he  exerted  all  his  influence  to 
urge  a  continuance  of  the  war  with  Frande  till  the  power 
of  Napoleon  should  be  broken.  In  addition  to  this  he 
secured  the  alliance  of  the  Swedish  crown  prince  Berna- 
dotte,  and  also  went  to  London  to  secure  the  active  co- 
operation of  England.  He  it  was  who  counselled  the 
allies  to  bring  matters  to  a  crisis  by  marching  on  Paris, 
and  it  was  he  who  penned  the  famous  declaration  that 
they  waged  war  against  Napoleon,  not  against  the  French 
people.  He  gave  warning  to  the  congress  of  Vienna  of 
the  possibility  of  Napoleon  returning  from  Elba,  was  pre- 
sent at  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  where  the  power  of  Napoleon 
was  finally  crushed,  and  on  20th  November  1815  enjoyed 
the  supreme  satisfaction  of  signing  the  treaty  of  Paris  as 
Russian  ambassador.  In  1826  he  was  appointed  to  repre- 
sent Russia  at  Paris.  He  retired  from  public  life  in  1835, 
and  died  at  Paris  on'  15th  February  1842. 
■  Stein  ct  Pozzo  di  Borffo,  1846,  English  trans.,  1847;  Viihrer,  iVoKce 
bfbgraphique  sur  Ic  Camtc  Pozzo  di  Borgo,  1842. 

POZZUOLI,  the  ancient  Pdteoli,  a  city  of  Italy,  on 
the  northern  shore  of  the  Bay  of  Pozzuoli  (Sinus  Puteo- 
lanus  or  Cumanus), — the  western  portion  of  the  Gulf  of 
Naples,  separated  from  the  larger  eastern  portion  .by  the 
promontory  of  Posillipo  and  from  the  open  sea  on  the 
west  by  the  peninsula  which  terminates  in  Cape  Miseno. 
It  is  a  place  of  11,967  inhabitants  (1881)  and  the  centre 
of  a  commune,  which,  including  Bacoli  (3130  ;  the  ancient 
Bauli)  and  Nisida  (1202),  numbers  17,269.  Its  small 
flat-roofed  houses  cluster  picturesquely  on  a  tongue  of 
land  projecting-  south-west  into  the  bay.  The  cathedral 
of  St  Proculus  occupies  the  site  of  a  temple  erected  to 
Augustus  by  L.  Calpurnius  and  contains  the  tomb  of  Per- 
golesi.  The  harbour  is  still  visited  by  500  or  600  sailing 
■vessels  in  the  course  of  the  year.  But  the  true  riches  of 
Pozzuoli  are  its  ruins.  First  in  point  of  interest  is  the 
Serapeum  or  temple  of  Serapis.  This  consisted  of  a  rect- 
angular court  enclosed  by  forty-eight  massive  columns 
and  having  in  the  centre  a  round  temple  -with  sixteen 
Corinthian  pillars  of  African  marble.  The  three  great 
columns  of  the  portico,  about  40  feet  high,  still  stand. 
The  perforations  of  a  boring  mollusc  show  that  they  must 
for  a  time  have  been  submerged  13  feet  in  the  sea.  The 
new  upheaval  of  the  ground  appears  to  have  begun  before 
1530  and  to  have  been  hastened  by  the  great  Monte 
Nuovo  eruption  of  1538.  A  gradual  subsidence  has  again 
been  observed  since  the  beginning  of  the  19th  century. 
The  pillars  of  the  round  temple  are  now  in  Caserta,  and 
the  statue  of  Serapis  is  in  the  National  Museum  at  Naples. 
The  amphitheatio  (482  feet  long  by  383  broad),  erected 
in  the  time  of  the  Flavian  dynasty  on  the  hill  behind  the 
town,  was  seated  for  30,000  spectators,  and  had  an  arena 
286  feet  long  and  138  feet  broad.  Among  the  populace 
the  building  is  known  as  the  Prison  of  St  Januariu.s,  be- 
cause, according  to  the  legend,  that  saint  and  his  com- 


panions were  here  condemned  to  fight  with  wild  beasts. 
At  an  earlier  date  it  had  been  the  scene  of  the  spectacle 
in  which  Nero,  in  presence  of  King  Tiridates  of  Armenia, 
displayed  his  personal  prowess.  To  the  west  of  the  Sera- 
peum lie  traces  of  various  minor  ruins,  a  temple  of  Neptune, 
<fec.,  and  especially  the  site  of  Cicero's  villa  (Puteolanum 
or  Academia),  which  was  afterwards  occupied  by  a  temple 
in  honour  of  the  emperor  Hadrian.  The  whole  neigh- 
bourhood has  proved  rich  in  epigraphic  remains. 

Puteoli  first  appears  under  the  name  of  Dicitarcliia  as  a  port  of 
the  people  of  Cumae.  The  statement  made  by  Stephanus  of  Byzan- 
tium and  Eusebius,  that  the  city  was  founded  by  a  colony  of 
Samians,  probably  refers  to  some  secondary  accession  of  population 
fron)  thtit  quarter.  The  Romans  in  215  B.C.  introduced  a  garrison 
of  6000  men  to  protect  the  town  from  Hannibal ;  and  in  194  B.C. 
a  Roman  colony  was  established.  In  the  Civil  AVar  the  citizens 
sided  first  with  Porapey  and  afterwards  with  Brutus  and  Cassius. 
Augustus  strengthened  the  colony  with  a  body  of  his  veterans 
(hence  Colonia  Augusta),  and  Nero  admitted  the  old  inhabitants 
into  it.  The  remains  of  Hadrian,  who  died  at  the  neighbouring 
town  of  Baiae,  were  burned  at  Puteoli,  and  Antoninus  Pius,  besides 
electing  the  temple  -to  his  memory  already  mentioned,  instituted 
sacred  games  to  be  ^leld  in  the  city  every  five  years.  It  was 
mainly,  however,  as  a  great  commercial  port  that  Puteoli  was 
lanious  in  ancient  times.  It  was  one  of  the  two  places  in  Italy 
(Rome  was  the  other)  where  the  Tyrian  merchants  had  a  regular 
trading  station  ;  it  trafficked  with  Syria  (merchants  from  BeVytus 
are  mentioned  among  its  residents),  Egypt,  Africa,  and  Spain,  and 
spices  from  the  East,  corn  from  Alexandria,  iron  from  Populonium 
were  stored  in  its  warehouses.  Like  Ostia,  Puteoli  was  considered 
a  special  port  of  Rome,  and,  on  account  of  the  great  safeness  and 
convenience  of  its  harbour,  it  was  preferred  to  Ostia  for  the  landing 
of  the  more  costly  and  delicate  wares.  Like  Ostia,  consequently, 
it  was  treated  as  practically  part  of  Rome,oand  with  it  enjoyed  the 
peculiar  distinction  of  being  enrolled  in  the  Palatine  tribe.  The 
artificial  mole  -was  probably  of  earlier  date  than  the  reign  of 
Augustus  ;  and  by  that  time  there  were  docks  large  enough  to 
contain  the  vessels  employed  in  bringing  the  obelisks  from  Egypt 
Remains  of  the  piles  of  the  mole  still  exist,  and  are  popularlj 
known  as  Caligula's  Bridge,  from  the  mistaken  idea  that  they 
belong  to  the  temporary  structure  which  that  emperor  flung  across 
the  bay  from  the  mole  at  Puteoli  to  the  shore  at  Baia?.  Alaric 
(410),  Gfinseric  (455),  and  Totila  (545)  succes.sively  laid  Puteoli  in 
ruins. '  The  restoration  effected  by  the  Byzantines  was  partial  and 
short-lived.  Sacked  by  Grimoald  of  Bcneventum  in  715,  hara.ssed 
by  the  Saracens  in  the  10th  century,  captured  by  John  duke  of 
Naples  in  1014,  and  again  sacked  by  the  Turks  in  1550,  the  city 
could  hardly  have  continued  prosperous  even  apart  from  the  earth- 
quakes of  1198  and  1538. 

Works  on  Puteoli  have  been  written  by  Mazzelta  (1594),  Capaecio  (lOMX 
Samellius  (1691),  Tarrino  (1709),  Jorio  (1817  and  1630).  See  the  bibliography 
In  Corp.  Inscr.  Lot.,  vol.  X.  Jmrt  i.  pp.  182,  317. 

PRADIER,  James,  French  sculptsr,  was  born  at  Geneva 
in  1790  and. died  in  Paris  on  5th  June  1852.  He  was  a 
member  of  the  Academy  and  a  brilliant  and  popular 
sculptor  of  the  pre-Romantic  period,  representing  in  France 
the  drawing-room  classicism  which  Canova  illustrated  at 
Rome.  His  chief  works  are  the  Son  of  Niobe,  Atalanta, 
Psyche,  Sappho  (all  in  the  Louvre),  Prometheus  (Tuileries 
Gardens),  a  bas-relief  on  the  triumphal  arch  of  the  Car- 
rousel, the  figures  of  Fame  on  the  Arc  de  I'litoile,  and  a 
statue  of  J.  J.  Rousseau  for  Geneva. 

See  Magcain  pittorcsque,  iii.,  vi.,  and  xi.  ;  Barbet  de  Sovj, 
Sculptures  moderrus  du  Louvre. 

PRAED,  WiNTHROP  Mackworth  (1802-1839),  one  of 
the  most  illustrious  English  writers  of  vers  de  s^ciett',  was 
the  third  and  youngest  son  of  William  Mackworth  Praed, 
Serjeant  at  law.  The  name  of  his  father's  family  had  been 
originally  Mackworth,  and  the  circumstances  under  -B-hich 
the  additional  title  of  Praed  was  adopted  are  set  out  in 
the  Parochial  History  of  Cornwall  (iii.  101).  Winthrop, 
a  cognomen  famous  across  the  Atlantic  as  borne  by  the 
governor  of  Massachusetts,  was  his  mother's  maiden  name, 
and  the  union  of  these  three  consonantal  names  in  the 
person  of  Winthrop  Mackworth  Praed  formed  the  combina- 
tion over  which  Mi.s3  Mitford  expre.sscd  righteous  indig- 
nation. Ho  was  born  at  35  John  Street,  Bedford  Row, 
London,  2Gth  July  1802,  and  almost  as  soon  as  he  could 
read  was  taught  by  his  father  to  "  lisp  in  numbers."     His 


652 


JP  R  A  — r  K  M 


V 


mother  died  in  1809,  whereupon  the  child  was  sent  to  the 
preparatory  school  of  Langley  Broom  near  Colnbrook,  where 
he  remained  until  he  was  removed  (28th  March  1814)  to 
Eton.     Towards  the  close  of  his  schoolboy  days  he  started 
a  manuscript  periodical   called  Apis  Matina.      This  was 
succeeded  in  October  1820  by  the  Etonian,  a  paper  pro- 
jected  and    edited   by   Praed  and   Walter   Blunt,   which 
appeared   every  month  until  July  1821,  when  the  chief 
'editor  left  the  "glade"  of  Eton  and  the  paper  died.     Henry 
Nelson  Coleridge,  Willikm  Sidney  Walker,  and  John  Moul- 
trie were  the  three  best  known  of  his  coadjutors  in  this 
periodical,  which  was  published  by  Charles  Knight,  and  of 
which  many  interesting  particulars  are  set  out  in  Knight's 
Autobiography  and  in  Maxwell  Lyte's  Eton  College.    Before 
Praed  left  school  he  succeeded  in  establishing  over  a  shop 
at  Eton  a  "boy's  library"  for  the  use  of  the  higher  Etonians, 
the  books  of  which  are  now  amalgamated  in  the  official 
"boy's  library"  in   the  new  buildings.      His  career  at 
Cambridge,  where  he  matriculated  at  Trinity  College,  Octo- 
ber 1821,  was  marked  by  exceptional  brilliancy.     Thrice 
lie  gained  the  Browne  medal  and  twic^  the  chancellor's 
medal  for  English  verse.     He  was  bracketed  third  in  the 
classical  tripos  in  1825,  won  a  fellowship  at  his  college  in 
1827,  and  three  years  later  carried  off  the  Seatonian  prizes. 
At  the  Union  his  speeches  attracted  the  admiration  of  his 
fellow-undergraduates ;  he  struggled,  and  not  unequally, 
with  Macaulay  and  Austin.     The  character  of  Praed  dur- 
ing his  university  life  is  described  by  Biilwer  Lytton  in  the 
first  volume  of  his  Life  (pp.  227-239,  244-246).     At  Cam- 
bridge, as  at  Eton,  the  po§t  was  drawn  by  Charles  Knight 
into  the  pleasures  of  magazine-writing.     Knight's  Quarterly 
Magazine  was  started  in  1822  with  Praed  as  one  of  the 
principal  contributors,  and,  after  languishing  for  some  time, 
it  .expired  when   three  octavo  volumes  had  been  issued. 
For  two  years  (1825-27)  he  resided  at  Eton  as  private  tutor 
to  Lord  Ernest  Bruce,  a  younger  son  of  the  marquis  of 
Ailesbury.     During  part  of  this  time  he  was  occupied  in 
preparing  himself  for  the  profession  of  the  law,  and  on  29th 
May  1829  he  was  called  to  the  bar  at  the  Middle  Temple. 
He  travelled  on  the  Norfolk  circuit,  where  his  prospects  of 
advancement  were  bright,  but  the  bias  of  his  feelings  in- 
clined him  towards  politics,  and  after  a  year  or  two  he 
devoted  himself  entirely  to  political  Hfe.     Whilst  at  Cam- 
bridge he  leaned  to  Whiggism,  and  even  to  the  autumn 
of  1829  his  feelings  were  bent  towards  the  same  side,  but 
with  the  dawning  of  the  Reform  BiU  he  passed  into  the 
opposite  ranks,  and  when  he  was  returned  to  parliament 
for  St  Germans  (17th  December  1830)  his  election  was 
due  to  the  kindness  of  Mr  Herries,  a  zealous  member  of 
the  Tory  party.     He  sat  for  that  borough  until  December 
1832,  and  on  its  extinction  contested  the  borough  of  St 
Ives,  within  the  limits  of  which  the  Cornish  estates  of  the 
Pi'aeds  are  situated.     The  squibs  which  he  wrote  on  this 
occasion  were  collected  in  a  volume  printed  at  Penzance 
in  1833  and  entitled  Trash,  dedicated  without  respect  to 
James  Halse,  Esq.  M.P.,  his  successful  competitbr.     Praed 
subsequently  sat  for  Great  Yarmouth  from  1835  to  1837 
and  for  Aylesbury  from  the  latter  year  imtU  his  death. 
During  the  progress  of  the  Reform  Bill  he  advocated  the 
creation  of  three-cornered  constituencies,  in  which  each 
voter  should  have  the  power  of  giving  two  votes  only,  and 
maintained  that  freeholds  within  boroughs  should  confer 
votes  for  the  boroughs  and  not  for  the  county.     Neither 
of  these  suggestions  was  then  adopted,  but  the  former  ulti- 
mately formed  part  of  the  Reform  Bill  of  1866.     Praed 
was  for  a  few  months  (December  1834  to  April  1835) 
secretary  to  the  Board  of  Control,  and  he  was  much  grati- 
fied at  receiving  the  appointment  of  deputy  high  steward 
of  his  beloved  university  of  Cambridge.     The  last  years 
of  his  life  were  racked  by  the  pains  of  phthisis,  though 


all  that  sympathy  and  devotion  could  effect  to  alleviate 
his  sufferings  was  accomplished  by  his  wife,  Helen, 
daughter  of  Mr  George  Bogle,  whom  he  had  married  in 
1835.  He  died  at  Chester  Square,  London,  on  15th  July 
1839,  and  was  buried  at  Kensal  Green  on  23d  July. 

Praed's  lighter  poetry  was  the  perfection  of  ease.  It  abounded  in 
allusions  to  the  characters  and  follies  of  the  day  and  passed  with 
playful  touch  from  puns  to  politics.  In  his  humorous  effusions  he 
was  the  chief  of  a  school  which  in  these  latter  days  has  found 
numerous  imitators.  Many  of  his  poems  were  marked  by  much 
pathetic  feeling,  for  his  talents  wer*)  by  no  means  limited  to  puns 
and  jests.  Several  American  issues  of  his  works  appeared  before 
the  comprehensive  English  edition  of  his  Poems,  "with  a  memoir 
by  Rev.  Derweat  Coleridge,"  was  published  in  1864.  At  a  kter 
date  a  selection  firom  his  poems  by  Sir  George  Young  was  given  to 
the  world. 

PRjEFECT  {prsefectus)  was  the  title  of  various  Roman 
officials,  both  civil  and  military.  A  praefect  was  not  one 
of  the  magistrates  proper ;  he  was,  strictly  speaking,  only 
the  deputy  or  lieutenant  of  a  superior  magistrate  or  com- 
mander. The  following  were  the  moat  important  classes 
of  praefects. 

1.  The  city  praefect  (jarsefedus  urbi)  acted  at  Rome  a* 
the  deputy  of  the  chief  magistrate  or  magistrates  during 
his  or  their  absence  from  the  city.  Thus  he  represented 
in  the  earliest  times  the  king  and  in  later  times  the  consul 
or  consuls  when  he  or  they  were  absent  on  a  campaign  or 
on  other  public  duties,  such  as  the  celebration  of  the  annual 
Latin  festival  on  th«  Alban  Mount.  The  absence  of  the 
chief  magistrate  for  more  than  a  single  day  rendered  the 
appointment  of  a  praefect  obligatory  ;  but  the  obligation 
only  arose  when  all  the  higher  magistrates  were  absent. 
Hence  so  long  as  the  consils  were  the  only  higher  magis- 
trates their  frequent  absence  often  rendered  the  appoint-, 
ment  of  a  praefect  necessary,  but  after  the  institution  of 
the  praetorship  (367  B.C.)  the  necessity  only  arose  excep- 
tionally, as  it  rarely  happened  that  both  the  consuls  and 
the  praetor  were  absent  simultaneously.  But  a  praefect 
■continued  to  be  regularly  appointed,  even  under  the  empire, 
during  the  enforced  absence  of  aU  the  higher  magistrates 
at  the  Latin  festival.  The  right  and  duty  of  appointing 
a  prsefect  belonged  to  the  magistrate  (king,  dictator,  or 
consul)  whose  deputy  he  was,  but  it  seems  to  have  been 
withdrawn  from  the  consuls  by  the  Licinian  law  (367  B.C.), 
except  that  they  stiU  nominated  praefects-  for  the  time  of 
the  festival.  No  formalities  in  the  appointment  and  no 
legal  qualifications  on  the  part  of  the  prefect  were  required. 
The  praefect  had  all  the  powers  of  the  magistrate  whose 
deputy  he  was,  except  that  he  could  not  nominate  a  deputy 
to  himself.  His  office  expired  on  the  return  of  his  superior. 
There  could  only  be  one  city  praefect  at  a  time,  though  the 
dictator  Caesar  broke  the  rule  by  appointing  six  or  eight 
praefects  simultaneously. 

Under  the  empire  there  was  introduced  a  city  prefecture 
which  differed  essentially  from  the  above.  Augustus  occa- 
sionally appointed  a  city  prasfect  to  represent  him  in  hia 
absence  from  Italy,  although  the  prators  or  even  one  of 
the  consuls  remained  in  the  capital.  In  the  absence  of 
Tiberius  from  Rome  during  the  last  eleven  years  of  his 
reign  (26-37  a.d.)  the  city  prefecture,  hitherto  an  excep- 
tional and  temporary  office,  became  a  regular  and  perma- 
nent magistracy  ;  in  aU  subsequent  reigns  the  praefect  held 
office  even  during  the  presence  of  the  emperor  in  Rome.  He 
was  always  chosen  by  the  emperor  and  usually  from  men 
who  had  held  the  consulship ;  his  office  was  regarded,  like 
the  censorship  under  the  republic,  as  the  crowning  honour 
of  a  long  political  career.  It  was  not  conferred  for  any 
definite  length  of  time,  but  might  be  held  for  years  or  for 
life.  As  under  the  republic,  the  praefect  was  not  allowed 
to  quit  the  city  for  more  than  a  day  at  a  time.  His  duty 
was  the  preservation  of  peace  in  the  capital ;  he  was,  in 
fact,  the  chief  of  the  police,  being  charged  with  the  super. 


P  R  M  —  F  R  ^ 


653 


intendence  of  the  streets,  markets,  and  public  buildings. 
He  was  further  entrusted  by  Augustus  with  a  summary 
criminal  jurisdiction  over  slaves  and  rioters,  which  was, 
however,  gradually  extended  till  in  the  time  of  Severus  or 
even  earlier  it  embraced  all  offences  by  whomsoever  com- 
mitted. ■  Further,  he  had  the  power  of  dealing  with  civil 
cases  where  his  interference  seemed  requisite  in  the  inter- 
ests of  the  public  safety,  but  such  occasions  were  naturally 
few.  By  the  beginning  of  the  3d  century,  and  perhaps 
earlier,  appeals  to  the  emperor  in  civU  cases  were  handed 
over  by  him  to  be  dealt  with  by  the  prsfect.  Except  where 
special  restrictions  interfered,  an  appeal  lay  from  the  prae- 
fect  to  the  emperor.  Though  not  a  military  officer,  the 
praefect  commanded  the  city  cohorts  (cohoHes  urbame), 
which  formed  part  of  the  garrison  of  Rome  and  ranksd 
above  the  line  regiments,  though  below  the  guards  (see 
Pe^torians).  The  military  power  thus  placed  in  the  hands 
of  the  chief ,  of  the  police  was  one  of  the  most  sorely-felt 
innovations  of  the  empire.  The  constitutional  changes  of 
Diocletian  and  Constantine  extended  still  farther  the  power 
of  the  praefect,  in  whom,  after  the  disbanding  of  the  guards 
and  the  removal  from  Rome  of  the  highest  officials,  the 
whole  military,  administrative,  and  judicial  powers  were 
centred. 

2.  Under  the  republic  judicial  praefects  (prxfecti  juri 
dicundo)  were  sent  annually  from  Rome  as  deputies  of  the 
praetors  to  administer  justice  in  certain  towns  of  the  Italian 
allies.  These  towns  were  called  "prefectures"  (prafecturse). 
After  the  Social  War  (90-89  B.C.),  when  all  Italy  had  re- 
ceived the  Roman  franchise,  such  prefectures  ceased  to 
ezist  in  fact,  though  the  name  was  sometimes  retained. 

3.  Under  the  empire  the  praetorians  or  imperial  guards 
were  commanded  by  one,  two,  or  even  three  praefects  {pret- 
fecti  pradorio),  who  were  chosen  by  the  emperor  from  among 
the  knights  and  held  office  at  his  pleasure.  From  the  time 
of  Alexander  Severus  the  post  was  open  to  senators  also, 
and  if  a  knight  was  appointed  he  was  at  the  same  time 
raised  to  the  senate.  The  position  was  one  of  great  influ- 
ence and  importance  ;  the  praetorian  prajfect  stood  under 
the  immediate  orders  of  the  emperor,  of  whom  he  was  the 
natural  representative  and  sometimes  the  rival.  Down  to 
the  time  of  Constantine,  who  deprived  the  office  of  its 
military  character,  the  prefecture  of  the  guards  was  regu- 
larly held  by  tried  soldiers,  often  by  men  who  had  fought 
their  way  up  from  the  ranks.  In  course  of  time  the  com- 
mand seems  to  have  been  enlarged  so  as  to  include  all  the 
troops  in  Italy  except  the  corps  commanded  by  the  city 
praefect  (cohortes  urbanx).  Further,  the  pratorian  pra;fect 
acquired,  in  addition  to  his  military  functions,  m,  criminal 
jurisdiction,  which  he  exercised  not  as  the  delegate  but  as 
the  representative  of  the  emperor,  and  hence  it  was  decreed 
by  Constantine  (331)  that  from  the  sentence  of  the  pra;- 
torian  praefect  there  should  be  no  appeal.  A  similar  juris- 
diction in  civil  cases  was  acquired  by  him  not  later  than 
the  time  of  Severus.  Hence  a  knowledge  of  law  became 
a  qualification  for  the  post,  which  under  Marcus  Antoninus 
and  Commodus,  but  especially  froto  the  time  of  Severus, 
was  held  by  the  first  jurists  of  the  age  (e.^.,  Papinian, 
Ulpian,  and  PauUus),  while  the  military  qualification  fell 
more  and  more  into  the  background.  Under  Constantine 
the  institution  of  the  magistri  militum  deprived  the  prae- 
torian prefecture  altogether  of  its  military  character,  but 
left  it  the  highest  civil  office  of  the  empire. 

Tlie  title  of  "  prcefect "  wm  bomo  by  various  other  Roman  ofGciolg, 
of  whom  wo  may  mention  the  following. 

4.  Prmfcclus  Sodum  (sociorum). — Under  the  republic  tho  con- 
tingents furnished  to  the  Roman  armies  by  tho  Italian  allies  Were 
commanded  by  Roman  officers  called  prm/ecCi  socium  (soeiorvm), 
who  were  nominated  by  the  consuh  and  corrcsoonded  to  the 
tribunes  in  the  legions. 

6.  Pra/eetu3  Classiiim. — Down  to  near  the  close  of  the  republic  a 


naval  command  was  never  held  independently  but  only  in  connexion 
with  the  command  of  an  army,  and,  when  the  general  appointed 
an  officer  to  command  the  fleet  in  his  room,  this  lieutenant  waa 
styled  "praefect  of  the  fleet"  (prw/ectus  classium).  When  in  311 
B.C.  the  people  took  the  appointment  of  these  lieutenants  into  their 
own  hands  the  title  was  changed  from  "  praefects "  to  duo  viri 
navalcs,  or  "  two  naval  men  "  ;  but  under  the  empire  the  admirals 
went  by  their  old  name  of  praefects. 

6.  Prmfectus  Fabrum. — The  colonel  of  the  engineer  and  artillery 
corps  {fabri)  in  a  Roman  army  was  called  a  prefect ;  he  did  not 
belong  to  the  legion,  but  was  directly  subordinate  to  the  general  in 
command. 

.  Prxfedus  Annonx. — The  important  duty  of  provisioning  Rome 
was  committed  by  Augustus  (between  8  and  14  A.n.)  tp  a  prsefect, 
who  was  appointed  by  the  emperor  from  among  the  knights  afad 
held  office  at  the  imperial  pleasure. 

8.  Prsefectus  ^gypli  (afterwards  Prmfeclxis  Augiistalisj. — Under 
the  empire  tho  government  of  Egypt  was  entrusted  to  a  viceroy 
with  the  title  of  "  praefect, "  who  was  selected  from  the  knights,  and 
was  surrounded  by  royal  pomp  instead  of  the  usual  insignia  of  a 
Roman  magistrate.  He  stood  under  the  immediate  orders  of  the 
emperor.  The  exceptional  position  thus  accorded  to  Egypt  was 
due  to  a  regard  on  the  part  of  the  emperors  to  the  peculiar  character 
of  the  population,  the  strategic  strength  of  the  country,  and  its 
political  importance  as  the  granary  of  Rome.  (J.  G.  FK.) 

PRiEMONSTRATENSIANS.  See  Abbey,  vol.  i.  p.  20, 
and  MoNACHisM,  vol.  xvi.  p.  709. 

PR^MUNIRE,  the  name  given  to  a  writ  originating 
in  the  14th  century  in  the  attempt  to  put  restraint  on  the 
action  of  the  papal  authority  in  regard  to  the  disposal  of 
ecclesiastical  benefices  in  England  before  the  same  became 
vacant,  and  subsequently,  to  the  prejudice  of  the  rightful 
patron,  and  also  in  the  encouragement  of  resort  to  the 
Roman  curia  rather  than  to  the  courts  of  the  country,  in 
disregard  of  the  authority  of  the  crown,  leading  thereby 
to  the  creation  of  an  imperium  in  imperio  and  the  paying 
that  obedience  to  papal  process  which  constitutionally 
belonged  to  the  king  alone.  The  word  "  praemunire  " '  is 
applied  also  to  the  offence  for  which  the  writ  is  granted, 
and  furthermore  to  the  penalty  it  incurs.  The  range  and 
description  of  offences  made  liable  to  the  penalties  of 
praemunire  became  greatly  widened  subsequently  to  the 
Reformation,  so  that  acts  of  a  Very  miscellaneous  character 
were  from  time  to  time  brought  within  the  scope  of 
enactments  passed  for  a  very  different  purpose.  The 
offence  is  of  a  nature  highly  criminal,  though  not  capital, 
and  more  immediately  affects  the  crown  and  Government. 
The  statute  16  Rich.  II.  c.  5  (1392)  is  usually  designated 
tho  Statute  of  Prajraunire ;  it  is,  however,  but  one  only  of 
numerous  stringent  measures  (many  of  which  are  still 
unrepealed)  resulting  from  the  enactment  of  the  Statute  of 
Provisors  (35  Edw.  I.  c.  1),  passed  in  a  previous  reign, 
which  according  to  Coke  (Instii.)  was  the  foundation  of 
all  the  subsequent  statutes  of  praemunire.  Cowel  (Law 
Diet.)  describes  a  pro  visor  as  one  who  sued  to  the  court  of 
Rome  for  a  provision  which  was  called  gratia  expectiva. 

Tho  penalties  of  praemunire  involved  the  loss  of  all  civil 
rights,  forfeiture  of  lands,  goods,  and  chattels,  and  im- 
prisonment during  the  royal  pleasure.  In  the  Habeas 
Corpus  Act  (31  Car.  II.  c.  2,  1679)  tho  committing  of 
any  man  to  prison  out  of  the  realm  was  made  prxmunira 
unpardonable  even  by  tho  king.  It  thus  appears  that, 
whilst  the  crown  by  its  prerogative  might  at  any  time 
remit  tho  whole  or  any  part  of  the  punishment  incurred  by 
a  pr.'cmunire,  an  exception  was  made  in  transgressions  of 
the  Statute  of  Habeas  Corpus.  Tlio  Royal  Marriage  Act 
(12  Geo.  III.  c.  11)  of  1772  is  the  last  statuto  which  sub- 
jects anv  one  to  the  penalties  of  a  praemunire  as  ordained 
by  16  liich.  II. 

It  cannot  bo  doubted  that  the  legislation  exemplified  in 
the  Statutes  of  Praemunire  and  Provisors  was  felt  by  the 

'  Pncmuniro  ia  tt'Orruption  of  tho  h&Un  prmmonere,  to  prc-admonish 
or  forewarn,  and  is  taken  from  tho  words  of  the  writ  itse.f,  which  nmj 
"Pnnmnnire  facias"  A.  R,  &c.,  i.e.,  cau.io  A.  B.  to  bo  forowarued 
that  ho  appear  to  answer  tho  contempt  wherewith  he  stands  chari^ed. 


654 


P  R  ^  — P  R  JE, 


popes  to  be  a  great  cteck  on  their  freedom  of  action.  In 
the  hands  of  Henry  VIII.  prsemunire  became  eventually  a 
lever  for  the  overthrow  of  papal  supremacy.  The  last 
ancient  statute  concerning  prsemunire,  until  the  Reforma- 
tion, was  the  2  Hen.  IV.  c.  3  (1400),  by  which  all  persons 
who  accepted  any  provision  from  the  pope  to  be  exempt 
from  canonical  obedience  to  their  proper  ordinary  were 
subjected  to  the  penalties  prescribed.  Bishop  Stubbs,i  in 
summing  up  his  account  of  the  various  statutes  of  prae- 
munire, succinctly  says  of  them  that  they  were  intended  to 
prevent  encroachments  on  and  usurpations  of  jurisdiction 
on  the  part  of  the  pope',  and  he  adds  that  the  more  import- 
ant statute  was  that  of  16  Rich.  II.  c.  5  (1392),  which  he 
describes  as  one  of  the  strongest  defensive  measures  taken 
during  the  Middle  Ages  against  Rome,  and  which  was 
called  for  in  consequence  of  the  conduct  of  the  pope,  who 
had  forbidden  the  bishops  to  execute  the  sentences  of  the 
royal  courts  in  suits  connected  with  ecclesiastical  patron- 
age. Tomlins  {Law  Diet.)  states  that  there  is  only  one 
instance  of  a  prosecution  on  a  praemunire  to  be  found  in 
the  state  trials,  in  which  case  the  penalties  were  inflicted 
upon  some  persons  for  refusing  to  take  the  oath  of  allegi- 
ance to  Charles  II.  It  may  be  added  that  on  an  indict- 
nent  for  prsemunire  a  peer  might  not  be  tried  by  his  peers. 
See  Coke,  Imtit.;  Collier,  Eccl.  Hist.,  1708;  Hallam,  Middle 
Ages,  1868 ;  Stephen,  Comm.,  1853,  and  Hist.  Crim.  Law ;  and 
Btubbs,  Constit.  Hist.,  1880. 

PRiENESTE  (now  Paiestrina),  a  very  ancient  city  of 
Latium,  lies  22  miles  east  of  Rome  on  a  spur  of  the  Apen- 
nines facing  the  Alban  Hills.  To  the  natural  strength  of 
the  place  and  its  commanding  situation  Prseneste  owed  in 
large  measure  its  historical  importance.  The  local  tradition 
(adopted  by  Virgil)  named  Caeculus,  son  of  Vulcan,  as 
founder.  From  the  remains  of  Cyclopean  masonry  and 
other  indications  the  foundation  of  the  city  has  been 
referred  to  the  8th  century  B.C.,  and  objects  in  metal  and 
ivory  discovered  in  the  earliest  graves  prove  that  as  early 
as  this  or  the  following  century  Prseneste  had  reached 
a  considerable  degree  of  civilization  and  stood  in  com- 
mercial relations  not  only  with  Etruria  but  ■nith  the  East. 
At  this  time  the  city  was  probably  under  the  hegemony 
of  Alba  Longa,  then  the  head  of  the  Latin  League.  In 
499,  according  to  Livy,  Praeneste  withdrew  from  the  Latin 
League  and  formed  an  alliance  with  Rome,  but  this  state- 
ment seems  irreconcilable  with  a  passage  in  Dionysius 
Halicarnensis  {Ant.  Eom.,  v.  61).  After  Rome  had  been 
weakened  by  the  Gallic  invasion  (390),  Prteneste  joined 
its  foes  in  a  long  struggle  with  Rome.  The  struggle  cul- 
minated in  the  great  Latin  War  (340-338),  in  which  the 
Romans  were  victorious,  and  Prseneste  was  punished  for 
its  share  in  the  war  by  the  loss  of  part  of  its  territory. 
It  was  not,  however,  like  the  other  Latin  cities,  embodied 
in  the  Roman  state,  but  continued  in  the  position  of  a  city 
in  'alliauce  with  Rome  do^vn  to  the  Social  War,  when  it, 
like  the  rest  of  Italy,  received  the  Roman  franchise  (90  or 
89).  As  an  allied  city  it  furnished  contingents  to  the 
Roman  army  and  possessed  the  right  of  exile  {jus  exilii), 
i.e.,  persons  banished  from  Rome  were  allowed  to  reside  at 
Praeneste.  To  judge  from  the  works  of  art  and  inscrip- 
tions of  this  period  (338  to  90  B.C.),  it  must  have  been  for 
the  place  a  time  of  prosperity  and  even  luxury.  The  nuts 
of  Pr»neste  were  famous  and  its  roses  were  amongst  the 
finest  in  Italy.  The  Latin  spoken  at  Praeneste  was  some- 
what  peculiar.^     In  the  civil  wars  of  Sulla  the  younger 

'  Constit.  Hist,  of  Eng.  (1880),  iii.  356  sg. 

'^  Thus  the  Prsenestines  shortened  some  words  :  they  said  conia  for 
ciconia,  iammodo  for  tantummodo  (Plaut.,  True.,  iii.  2,  23;  Id., 
Trinum.,  iii.  1,  8  ;  cp.  Comment,  on  Festus,  p.  731,  ed.  Lindemann), 
and  inscriptions  exhibit  the  forms  Aememeno  and  Tondrus  for  Aga- 
tnemno  and  Tyndarus.  They  said  ne/rones  for  he/rendes  in  the  sense 
of  testiculi,  and  longitio  for  rwtio  (Festus,  s.v.  "nefrendes"  and 
t;tonger9^').~Cj._euiatiliaD,  Instit.,  u  5,  56. 


Marius  was  blockaded  in  the  town  by  the  Sullans  (82 
B.C.) ;  and  on  its  capture  Marius  slew  himself,  the  male 
inhabitants  were  massacred  in  cold  blood,  and  a  military 
colony  was  settled  on  part  of  its  territory.  It  was  prob- 
ably about  this  time  that  the  city  was  extended  from  the 
hill  to  the  plain  and  that  the  temple  of  Fortune  was 
enlarged  so  as  to  include  much  of  the  space  occupied  by 
the  ancient  city.  Under  the  empire  Praaneste,  from  its 
elevated  situation  and  cool  salubrious  air,  became  a  favour- 
ite summer  resort  of  the  wealthy  Romans,  whose  villas 
studded  the  neighbourhood.  Horace  ranked  it  with  Tibur 
and  Baiae,  the  Bath  an^  Brighton  of  Rome.  Augustus 
resorted  thither ;  here  Tiberius  recovered  from  a  danger- 
ous illness,  and  here  Hadrian  built  himself  a  villa.  Anto- 
ninus erected  a  palace  to  the  east  of  the  town.  Amongst 
private  persons  who  owned  villas  at  Praeneste  were  Pliny 
the  younger  and  Symmaclms. 

But  Praene?te  was  chiefly  famed  for  its  great  temple  of 
Fortune  and  for  its  oracle,  in  connexion  with  the  temple, 
known  as  the  "  Praenestine  lots  "  {sojies  Framestinx).  As\ 
extended  by  Sulla  the  sanctuary  of  Fortune  occupied  a 
series  of  six  vast  terraces,  which,  resting  on  gigantic  sub- 
structions of  masonry  and  connected  with  each  other  by 
grand  'staircases,  rose  one  above  the  other  on  the  hill  in 
the  form  of  the  side  of  a  pyramid,  crowned  on  the  highest 
terrace  by  the  round  temple  of  Fortune  proper.  This 
immense  edifice,  probably  by  far  the  largest  sanctuary  in 
Italy,  must  have  presented  a  most  imposing  aspect,  visible 
as  it  was  from  a  great  part  of  Latium,  from  Rome,  and 
even  from  the  sea.  The  goddess  Fortuna  here  went  by 
the  name  of  Primigenia  (First-Born,  but  perhaps  in  an 
active  sense  First-Bearer) ;  she  was  represented  suckling 
two  babeSj  said  to  be  Jupiter  and  Juno,  and  she  was 
especially  worshipped  by  matrons.^  The  oracle  of  the 
Praenestine  lots  was  very  ancient  and  continued  to  be  con- 
sulted down  to  Christian  times.  Constantine  and  Thcodo- 
sius  forbade  the  practice  and  closed  the  temple.  In  1297 
the  Colonna  family  who  then  owned  Praeneste  (Paiestrina) 
revolted  from  the  pope,  but  in  the  following  year  the  to^-n 
was  taken  and  razed  to  the  ground.  In  1437  the  city, 
which  had  been  rebuilt,  was  captured  by  the  papal  general 
Cardinal  Vitelleschi  and  once  more  utterly  destroyed. 
It  was  rebuilt  and  fortified  by  Stefano  Colonna  in  1448. 
In  1630  it  passed  by  purchase  into  the-Barberini  family. 
Prsneste  was  the  native  town  of  iElian  and  in  modern 
times  of  the  great  composer  Paiestrina. 

The  modern  town  of  Paiestrina,  a  collection  of  narrow  and  filtBy 
alleys,  stands  on  the  terraces  once  occupied  by  the  temple  of  Fortune. 
On  the  summit  of  the  hill  (2546  feet),  nearly  a  mile  fiom  the  town, 
stood  the  ancient  citadel,  the  site  of  wliich  is  now  occupied  by  a 
few  poor  houses  (Castel  San  Pietro)  and  a  ruined  mediseval  castle 
of  the  Colonnas.  The  magnificent  view  embraces  Soracte,  Rome, 
the  Alban  Hills,  and  the  Campagna  as  far  as  the  sea.  Considerable 
portions  of  the  southern  wall  of  the  ancient  citadel,  built  in  very 
massive  polygonal  (Cyclopean)  blocks  of  limestone,  are  still  to  be 
seen  ;  and  the  two  walls,  also  polygonal,  which  formerly  united  the 
citadel  with  the  lower  town,  can  still  be  traced.  The  ruins  of  the 
villa  of  Hadrian  stand  in  the  plain  near  the  church  of  S.  Maria 


2  Hence  Fernique  (£tude  sttr  Preneste)  ingeniously  conjectures  that 
Fortuna  was  originally  a  goddess  of  maternity,  and  that  the  ^ew  of 
her  functions  as  a  goddess  of  chance  was  Liter,  being  due  to  the  in- 
fluence of  Greek  mythology,  in  which  Chance  C^vxri)  was  a  goddess. 
Fortuna  contains  the  same  root  as/crre,  "  to  bear."  Fernique  observes 
that  the  worship  of  Fortuna  was  often  associated  with  that  of  Feronia. 
Statuettes  iu  terra-cotta  representing  a  woman  with  a  child  at  her 
breast  have  been  found  at  Praneste.  These  are  supposed  by  Femiqne 
to  be  votive  '^Terings,  representing  not  the  goddess  but  the  mothers  who 
offered  them  at  the  shrine  in  fulfilment  of  vows.  Fortuna  was  some- 
times represented  in  the  form  of  two  (or  possibly  more)  females,  so 
at  Antium  (Macrobius,  Sat.,  i.  23,  13  ;  Sueton.,  Cat.,  67),  and  perhaps 
at  Prseneste  (Statius,  S'jlv.,  i.  3,  80) ;  in  one  of  the  Roman  temples  of 
Fortuna  there  was  a  mysterious  veiled  figure.  Analogous  to  Fortuna 
in  her  double  capacity  as  prophetess  and  patron  of  mothers  was  Car- 
menta,  and  she  too  was  sometimes  represented  in  double  formJO^id. 
Fasti,  i,  617  sq.  ;  Aulus  GeUius.  zvL  16). 


P  R  M  —  F  R  JE 


655 


dells  Villi,  about  three-quarters  of  a  milo  from  the  town.  Here 
waa  iliscoTercd  the  well-known  statue  of^  Antinous,  now  in  the 
Vatican.  Not  far  off  was  found  in  1773  the  calendar  which,  as 
Suetonius  tells  lis,  was  set  up  by  the  grammarian  M.  Verrius 
Flaccus  in  the  forum  of  Prteneste.  Excavations  made,  especially 
since  1855,  in  the  ancient  necropolis,  which  lay  on  a  plateau  sur- 
rounded by  valleys  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  of  the  town,  have 
yielded  important  results  for  the  history  of  the  art  and  manufactures 
of  Prseneste.  Of  the  objects  found  in  the  oldest  graves,  and  sup- 
posed to  date  from  about  the  7th  century  B.C.,  the  cups  of  silver 
and  silver  gilt  and  most  of  the  gold  and  amber  jewellery  are  Phceni- 
cian  (po.ssibly  Carthaginian),  or  at  least  made  on  Phcenieian  models  ; 
but  the  bronzes  and  some  of  the  ivory  articles  seem  to  be  Etruscan. 
No  objects  have  been  discovered  belonging  to  the  period  inter- 
mediate between  the  7th  and  3d  centuries  B.C.  ;  but  the  graves  of 
the  3d  and  2d  centuries  have  yielded  many  precious  relics,  bronze 
caskets  (ctste),  convex  metal  miiTors,  strigils,  &c.  Among  these 
is  the  famous  Ficoroni  casket,  engraved  with  j)ictures  of  the  arrival 
of  the  Argonauts  in  Bithynia  and  the  victory  of  Pollux  over  Amycus. 
It  was  found  in  1774.  The  inscriptions  on  the  caskets  are  all 
Latin  ;  those  on  the  mirrors  are  mostly  Etruscan  ;  those  on  the 
•trigils  are  Latin,  Greek,  and  Etruscan.  The  Latin  inscriptions 
seem  to  belong  to  the  3d  century.  On  the  whole  it  appears  that 
between  the  3J  and  2d  centmie?  there  existed  at  Pra;nesto  a  native 
Latin  art,  which  was;  however,  be"inning  to  be  affected  by  Greek 
art.  Most  of  the  objects  discoverccl  in  the  necropolis  are  preserved 
in  the  Koraan  collections,  especially  the  Kircher  Museum  (which 
possesses  the  Ficoroni  casket)  and  tho  Barberini  Library.  Besides 
these  there  is  preserved  in  the  Barberini  Palace  at  Palestrina  a 
large  mosaic,  considoied  one  of  tho  most  important  in  existence. 
It  was  found  on  the  site  of  the  temple  of  Fortune  and  probably 
dates  from-  the  age  of  Augustus  or  Tiberius.  It  represents  scenes 
from  the  Nile,  with  animals  and  figures  in  Egj'ptian  and  Greek 
costume.  (J.  G.  FR.) 

PR^TOR  (prx-iior,  "  he  -who  goe.s  before,"  "  a  leader  "), 
originally  a  military  title,  was  in  classical  times  the  designa- 
tion of  the  highest  magistrates  in  the  Latin  towns.  The 
Roman  consuls  were  at  first  called  "  praetors  ";  in  the  early 
code  of  tho  Twelve  Tables  (450  B.C.)  they  appear  to  have 
had  no  other  title.  By  the  Licinian  law  of  367  B.C.,  which 
abolished  the  military  tribunes  with  consular  power  and 
enacted  that  tho  supreme  executive  should  henceforward 
be  in  the  hands  of  the  two'  consuls,  a  new  magistrate  was 
at  the  same  time  created  who  was  to  be  a  colleague  of  the 
consuls,  though  with  lower  rank  and  lesser  powers.  This 
new  magistrate  was  entrusted  with  the  exclusive  jurisdic- 
tion in  civil  cases  ;  in  other  respects  his  powers  resembled 
those  of  the  consuls.  His  distinctive  title  was  the  "  city 
praetor"  (prxior  urhamts),  and  in  after  time,  when  the  num- 
ber of  prostora  was  increased,  the  city  pra;tor  always  ranked 
first.  To  this  new  magistrate  the  title  of  "  prretor  "  was 
thenceforward  properly  restricted.^  About  242  B.C.  tho 
increase  of  a  foreign  population  in  Rome  necessitated  tho 
creation  of  a  second  prajtor  for  the  decision  of  suits  between 
foreigners  (pere//rini)  or  between  citizens  and  foreigners. 
This  prator  was  known  at  a  later  time  as  the  "  foreign 
prajtor"  {prxtor  peregrinus).  About  227  B.C.  two  more 
praetors  were  added  to  administer  the  recently  acquired 
provinces  of  Sicily  and  Sardinia.  Tho  conquest  of  Spain 
occasioned  the  appointment  of  two  more  in  197  B.C.,  of 
whom  one  governed  Hither  and  the  other  Further  Spain. 
The  number  of  praetors,  thus  augmented  to  six,  remained 
stationary  tiU  Sulla's  time,  82  B.C.  But  in  tho  interval 
their  duties  vastly  multiplied.  On  the  one  hand,  five  new 
provinces  were  added  to  the  Roman  dominions — Macedonia 
and  Achaia  in  146  B.C.,  Africa  in  tho  same  year,  Asia  in 
134,  Gallia  Narbonensis  in  118,  Cilicia  probably  in  102. 
On  the  other  hand,  new  and  permanent  jury  courts  {qu.rs- 
times  perpetux)  were  instituted  at  Rome,  over  which  the 
praetors  were  called  on  to  preside.  To  meet  this  increase 
of  business  tho  tenure  of  office  of  the  pra;tors  and  also  of 

■  Some  writers,  following  Livy,  vi.  42,  assert  thot  at  first  the  pnttor- 
ehipwas  open  to  patricians  only,  but  Mommsen  {R&m.  Staaisreckt,  ii. 
Pj  195)  shows  that  this  is  probably  a  mistake.  Tho  election  of  a 
plebeian  to  the  oflice  for  tho  first  time  in  337  B.O.  was  certainly  opposed 
oy  the  consul  who  pre.si(lca  at  the  election,  but  there  appears  to  have 
oeen  no  legal  obstacle  to  it. 


the  consuls  was  practically  prolonged  from  one  to  two  years, 
with  the  distinction  that  in  their  second  year  of  office  they 
bore  the  titles  of  "  propraetor  "  and  "  proconsul "  instead  of 
"pr8etor"and  "consul."  The  prolongation  of  office,  together 
with  the  participation  of  the  proconsuls  in  duties  which 
properly  fell  to  the  pra?tors,  formed  the  basis  of  Sulla's 
arrangements.  He  increased  the  number  of  the  praetors 
from  six  to  eight,  and  ordained  that  henceforward  all  the 
eight  should  in  their  first  year  administer  justice  at  Rome 
and  in  their  second  should  as  propraetors  undertake  the 
government  of  provinces.  The  courts  over  which  the 
praetors  presided,  in  addition  to  those  of  tho  city  praetor 
and  tho  foreign  prastor,  dealt  with  the  following  offences  : 
— oppression  of  the  provincials  {repetundamm),  bribery 
{ambitus),  embezzlement  (peculattis),  treason  (majestalis), 
murder  (de  sicariis  et  veneficis),  and  probably  forgery  (falsi). 
A  tenth  province  (Gallia  Cisalpina)  was  added  to  the  pre- 
vious nine,  and  thus  the  number  of  judicial  and  provincial 
departments  corresponded  to  the  annual  number  of  prajtors, 
propraetors,  and  proconsuls.  The  proportion,  however,  was 
not  long  maintained :  new  provinces  were  added  to  the 
empire — Bithynia  in  74  B.C.,  Cyrene  about  the  same  time, 
Crete  in  67,  Syria  in  64 — and  one  or  more  new  law  courts 
were  instituted.  To  keep  pace  with  the  increase  of  duties 
■Julius  Caesar  increased  the  number  of  praetors  successively 
to  ten,  fourteen,  and  sixteen ;  after  his  time  the  niunber 
varied  from  eight  to  eighteen. 

The  praetors  were  elected,  like  the  consuls,  by  the  people 
assembled  in  the  coniitia  ceniuriata  and  with  the  same 
formalities.  (See  Constjl.)  They  regularly  held  office 
for  a  year;  only  in  tho  transition  period  between  the 
republic  and  the  empire  was  their  tenure  of  office  some- 
times limited  to  a  few  monfhs.  The  insignia  of  tho 
praetor  were  those  common  to  the  higher  Roman  magis- 
trates,— the  purple-edged  robe  (toga  pralexta)  and  the  ivory 
chair  (sella  curulis) ;  in  Rome  he  was  attended  by  two 
lictors,  in  the  provinces  by  six.  The  praetors  elect  cast  lots 
to  determine  the  department  which  each  of  them  should 
administer.  A  prKtor  was  essentially  a  civil  judge,  and 
as  such  he  was  accustomed  at  or  before  his  entry  on  office 
to  publish  an  edict  setting  forth  the  rules  of  law  and  pro- 
cedure by  which  he  intended  to  be  guided  in  his  decisions. 
As  these  rules  were  often  accepted  by  his  successors  tho 
praetor  thus  acquired  an  almost  legislatorial  power,  and  his 
edicts  thus  continued,  corrected,  and  amplified  from  year 
to  year  became,  under  tho  title  of  tho  "  perpetual  edicts," 
one  of  tho  most  important  factors  in  moulding  Roman  law. 
Their  tendency  was  to  smooth  away  the  occasional  harsh- 
ness and  anomalies  of  tho  civil  law  by  substituting  rules 
of  equity  for  the  letter  of  the  law,  and  in  this  respect  the 
Roman  praetor  has  been  compared  to  the  English  chancellor. 
His  functions  were  considerabjy  modified  by  tho  introduc- 
tion of  the  standing  jury  courts  (qvxsliones  ;icr»)rtMa'). 
Hitherto  the  praetor  had  conducted  the  preliminary  inquiry 
as  to  whether  an  action  would  lio,  and  had  appointed  for 
the  actual  trial  of  tho  case  a  deputy,  whom  he  instructed 
in  the  law  applicable  to  tho  case  and  whose  decisions  lio 
enforced.  The  proceedings  before  tho  praetor  were  tcoli- 
nically  known  as  jus  in  distinction  from  judicium.,  which 
was  tho  actual  trial  before  the  dojiuty  judge.  But  in  tho 
standing  jury  courts  (of  which  tho  first — that  for  rrpetumLv 
— was  instituted  in  149  B.C.),  or  ratlior  in  tho  most  import- 
ant of  them,  tho  praetors  themselves  presided  and  tried 
tho  ca.scs.  These  new  courts,  though  formally  civil,  wero 
substantially  criminal  courts ;  and  thus  a  criminal  juris- 
diction wiis  added  to  tho  original  civil  juri.sdictlon  of  the 
praetors,  l.'nder  the  empire  various  special  functions  were 
assigned  to  certain  praetors,  such  as  the  two  treasury  praetors 
(pratores  mrarii),  appointed  by  Augustus  in  2.3  B.C. ;  the 
spear  praetor  (prator  liaslariru),  who  presided  over  the 


656 


P  R  ^  — P  R  ^ 


court  of  the  Hundred  Men,  which  dealt  especially  with 
cases  of  inheritance ;  the  two  trust  praetors  {prxtores 
fideicomissarii),  appointed  by  Claudius  to  look  after  cases 
of  trust  estates,  but  reduced  by  Titus  to  one ;  the  ward 
praetor  (prsetor  tutclaris),  appointed  by  Marcus  Antoninus 
to  deal  with  the  affairs  of  minors ;  and  the  liberation 
prsetor  {prxtor  de  liberalibus  causis),  who  tried  cases  turn- 
ing on  the  liberation  of  slaves.  There  is  no  evidence  that 
the  prastors  continued  to  preside  over  the  standing  courts 
after  the  beginning  of  the  3d  century  a.d.,  and  the  foreign 
prtetorship  disappears  about  this  time.^  Even  the  juris- 
diction of  the  city  praetor  seems  not  to  have  survived  the 
reforms  of  Diocletian,  though"  the  ofSco  itself  continued  to 
exist.  But  of  the  praetorships  with  special  jurisdiction 
(especially  the  ward  praetorship  and  the  liberation  praetor- 
ship)  some  lasted  into  the  4th  century  and  were  copied  in 
the  constitution  of  Constantinople. 

Besides  their  judicial  functions,  the  praetors,  as  colleagues 
of  the  consuls,  possessed,  though  in  a  less  degree,  all  the 
consular  powers,  which  they  regularly  exercised  in  the 
absence  of  the  consuls ;  but  in  the  presence  of  a  consul 
they  exercised  them  only  at  the  special  command  either 
of  the  consul  or,  more  usually,  of  the  senate.  Thus  the 
praetor  possessed  military  power  (imperium) ;  even  the  city 
praetor,  though  attached  by  his  office  to  Kome,  could  not 
only  levy  troops  but  also  in  certain  circumstances  take 
the  command  in  person.  As  provincial  governors  the 
praetors  had  frequent  occasion  to  exercise  their  military 
powers,  and  they  were  often  accorded  a  triumph.  The  city 
praetor  presided  over  popular  assemblies  for  the  election  of 
certain  inferior  magistrates,  but  aU  the  praetors  officiating 
in  Rome  had  the  right  to  summon  assemblies  for  the  pur- 
pose of  legislation.  In  thS  absence  of  the  consuls  the  city 
praetor,  and  in  default  of  him  the  other  praetors,  were  cm- 
powered  to  call  meetings  of  the  senate.  Public  religious 
duties,  such  as  the  fulfilment  of  state  vows,  the  celebration 
of  sacrifices  and  games,  and  the  fixing  of  the  dates  of  mov- 
able feasts,  probably  only  fell  to  the  praetors  in  the  absence 
of  the  consuls.  But  since  in  the  early  times  the  consuls  as 
a  rule  spent  only  the  first  months  of  their  year  of  office  in 
Rome  it  is  probable  that  a  considerable  share  of  religious 
business  devolved  on  the  city  praetor  ;  this  was  certainly 
the  case  with  the  Festival  of  the  Cross-roads  (compitalia), 
and  he  directed  the  games  in  honour  of  Apollo  from 
their  institution  in  212  B.C.  Augustus  in  22  B.C.  placed 
the  direction  of  all  the  popular  festivals  in  the  hands  of 
the  praetors,  and  it  is  not  without  significance  that  the 
praetors  continued  thus  to  minister  to  the  pleasures  of  the 
Roman  mob  for  centuries  after  they  had  ceased  almost 
entirely  to  transact  the  business  of  the  state.  For  the 
praetor  as  provincial  governor,  see  Peovince.      (j.  G.  fk.) 

PRjETORIANS  (prmtoriani)  was  the  name  borne  by 
the  body-guards  of  the  Roman  emperors.  The  name  was 
derived  from  the  praetorian  cohort,  a  picked  body  of  troops 
who  in  the  time  of  the  republic  formed  the  guard  of  a 
general  in  command  of  an  army,  the  old  Latin  name  for  a 
general  being  prxtor  and  his  quarters  in  the  camp  being 
known  as  the  prxtorium.  As  the  emperor  was  commander- 
in-chief  the  headquarters  (prxtorium)  were  established  at 
Rome,  and  one  of  the  earliest  measures  of  Augustus  was 
the  new  organization  of  the  guard.  The  command  of  the 
praetorians  rested  legally  with  the  emperor,  but  after  2  B.C. 
it  was  practically  exercised  by  one  or  more  colonels  chosen 
by  the  emperor  with  the  title  of  "praetorian  praefects" 
(prxfecti  prxtorio,  see  Pk^fect).  The  praetorians  were 
divided  into  cohorts  of  1000  men  each,  horse  and  foot,  and 
hence  they  are  often  referred  to  as  the  praetorian  cohorts. 

^  Marquardt  conjectures  with  much  probability  that  when  Caracalla 
extended  the  Roman  franchise  to  the  whole  empire  he  at  the  same  time 
abolished  the  foreign  praitorship. 


Augustus  raised  nine  corps,  of  which  he  quartered  three  in 
different  parts  of  Ronle  and  the  rest  in  neighbouring  cities. 
One  cohort  kept  guard  in  the  palace.  Under  Tiberius  the 
crafty  and  energetic  praetorian  praefect  Sejanus  collected 
the  praetorians  into  a  permanent  fortified  camp  outside  the 
Viminalian  Gate  of  Rome.  Thus  united  they  acquired  and 
exercised  the  power  of  making  and  unmaking  emperors. 
The  number  of  the  cohorts  was  raised  temporarily  by  Vitel 
lius  to  sixteen  ;  from  112  a.d.  to  the  end  of  the  3d  century, 
and  probably  to  the  time  of  Constantine,  the  niimber  was 
ten.  At  first  they  were  recruited  exclusively  from  Italy, 
but  afterwards  from  the  Romanized  provinces  also  of  Spain, 
Noricum,  and  Macedonia.  Their  pay  was  nominally  double, 
but  really  more  than  double,  that  of  the  legionaries  ;2  their 
period  of  service  was  shorter,  being  sixteen  years  instead  of 
at  least  twenty ;  and  from  the  time  of  Claudius  it  was  the 
custom  of  the  emperors  on,  their  succession  to  the  throne 
to  purchase  the  favour  of  their  powerful  guards  by  a  libera) 
donative.  But  the  sense  of  their  own  power,  to  which 
these  special  privileges  bore  witness,  fostered  the  pride, 
while  the  luxurious  life  of  the  capital  relaxed  the  disci- 
pline, of  the  praetorians.  Their  insolence  culminated  when 
they  murdered  the  virtuous  Pertinax,  put  the  empire  up  to 
auction,  and  knocked  it  down  to  the  highest  bidder  (193). 
In  the  same  year  they  were  disgraced  and  disbanded  by 
Severus,  only,  however,  to  be  replaced  by  a  still  more  numer- 
ous corps,^  which  was  now  recruited  indifferently  from  all 
parts  of  the  empire.  Diocletian  reduced  their  numbers, 
and  they  were  finally  suppressed  by  Constantine  in  312. 

PR^TORIUS,*  Michael  (1571-1621),  German  musical 
historian,  theorist,  and  composer,  was  born  at  Kreuzberg 
in  Thuringia  on  15th  February  1571.  He  acted  as  kapel  - 
meister  at  Liineburg  early  in  iife,  was  engaged  firs.'  as 
organist  and  later  as  kapellmeister  and  secretary  tc  che 
duke  of  Brunswick,  and  was  eventually  rewarded  for  his 
long  services  with  the  priory  of  Ringelheim,  near  Goslar. 
He  died  at  Wolfenbuttel  on  15th  February  1621.  Of  his 
very  numerous  compositions  copies  are  now  so  scarce  that  it 
is  doubtful  whether  a  complete  set  is  anywhere  to  be  found. 
The  most  important  are — Polyhymnia  (15  vols.),  Musx 
Sionix  (16  vols.),  and  J/usa  Aonia  {^  vols.),  all  written 
partly  to  Latin  and  partly  to  German  words.  But  more 
precious  than  all  these  is  the  Syntagma  miisicum  (3  vols, 
and  a  cahier  of  plates,  4to,  Wittenberg  and  Wolfenbuttel, 
1615-20).  Only  two  copies*  of  this  very  rare  work  are 
believed  to  exist  in  England,  one  in  the  library  of  the 
Rev.  Sir  F.  A.  Gore-Ouseley  and  the  other  in  that  of 
Mr  Alfred  Littleton.  In  the  original  prospectus  of  the 
work  four  volumes  were  promised,  but  it  is  certain  that 
no  more  thaa  three  were  ever  published.  The  fourth 
volume  mentioned  in  Forkel's  catalogue  is  clearly  nothing 
but  the  cahier  of  plates  attached  to  vol.  ii. 

'  The  legionaries  received  10  asses  daily,  or  3600  asses  ( =  225  denarii) 
annually  ;  the  prsetorians  received  twenty  asses  daily,  or  7200  asses 
annually.  But,  whereas  in  paying  the  legionaries  the  as  was  reckoned 
at  its  current  value  of  16  to  the  denarius,  in  paying  the  pvEtorians  it 
was  reckoned  at  its  old  and  higher  value  of  10  to  the  denarius,  and 
hence  the  7200  asses  of  a  praetorian  were  equal  to  11,520  asses  at  the 
current  rate,  or  720  denarii.  This  is  Moramsen's  highly  ingenious  and 
probable  explanation  of  the  apparent  discrepancy  between  the  state- 
ments of  Dio  Cassius  (liii.  11,  55)  and  Tacitus  [Ann.,  i.  17).  See  Mat- 
qiiardt's  RomUche  Slaalsvertcallung,  ii.  p.  480.  Pliny  [N.  H.,  xxxiii. 
45)  states  that  after  the  value  of  the  as  was  lowered  it  continued  to  be 
reckoned  at  its  old  value  in  the  payment  of  soldiers.  But  by  combin- 
ing the  statements  of  Suetonius  (Cses.,  26,  and  Domit,  7)  we  see  that 
Julius  Cffisar,  while  he  nominally  and  re.illy  raised  the  pay  of  the 
soldiers,  paid  it  in  asses  of  the  current  value,  and  hence  after  his  time 
it  was  only  the  praetorians  who  retained  the  privilege  of  having  their 
pay  reckoned  in  asses  of  the  old  value  (see  Marquardt,  op.  cit.,  p.  95). 

'  According  to  Heradian  (iii.  'S,  4)  Severus  increased  the  troops  in 
Rome  fourfold. 

♦  German  Schullz  or  Schultze  {SchuHheiss),  meaning  the  head-man  of 
a  township.  Latinized  into  Praetor  or  Praetorius.  Many  other  members 
of  the  family  of  Prstorius  were  eminent  as  mosiciam. 


P  R  A  — P  R  A 


657 


The  chief  value  of  this  very  remarkable  work  lies  in  the  informa- 
tion it  gives  concerning  the  condition  of  instrumental  music  in 
the  early  years  of  the  17th  century.  The  plates  include  excellent 
representations  of  all  the  musical  instruments  in  use  at  the  time 
they  were  published,  together  with  many  forms  even  then  treated 
only  as  antique  curiosities.  Many  of  these  instruments  are  known 
to  us  only  through  these  representations  and  the  descriptions  with 
which  they  are  accompanied,  the  instruments  themselves  having 
long  fallen  into  disuse,  and  no  real  examples  having  been  preserved  to 
us.  Among  the  most  important  instruments  described  and  figured 
are  the  whole  family  of  fiutes,  oboes,  and  bassoons ;  the  diflerent 
kinds  of  trombone,  many  of  which  exactly  resemble  those  now  in 
use;  trumpets  and  horns  of  all  conceivable  varieties  ;  viols,  violins, 
and  basses  ;  the  entire  family  of  stringed  and  keyed  instruments, 
including  the  psaltery,  the  spinet,  the  harpsichord,  and  a  curious 
combination  of  the  harpsichord  and  viol  called  the  "  Nurembergisch 
Geigenwerck,"  known  only  through  this  description  ;  and  finally 
the  organ,  to  the  historical  and  technical  description  of  which 
an  entire  section  is  devoted.  The  work  thus  throws  a  light  upon 
the  earlier  forms  of  instrumental  music  which  to  the  historian  is 
invaluable.  In  fact,  without  the  information  bequeathed  to  us  by 
Prtetorius  it  would  be  impossible  to  reconstruct  in  theory  the 
orchestra  of  the  earlier  half  of  the  17th  century,  during  which 
the  opera  and  the  oratorio  both  sprang  into  existence,  or  even  to 
understand  the  descriptions  left  us  by  other  less  careful  writers. 

PRAGMATIC  SANCTION,  the  techniq^l  name  given  to 
some  decrees  which  have  been  issued  as  fundamental  laws. 
The  term  is  of  Byzantine  origin,  the  edicts  of  the  Eastern 
emperors  having  been  called  "pragmatics."  There  is  a 
famous  document  known  as  the  Pragmatic  Sanction  of  St 
Louis,  which  contains  six  articles  directed  against  the 
assumptions  of  the  papacy;  but  there  are  reasons  for  doubt- 
ing its  genuineness.  In  1438  Charles  VII.  of  France 
issued  at  Bourges  a  pragmatic  sanction  which  embodied 
the  most  important  decisions  of  the  council  of  Basel. 
This  decree  fonned  the  basis  of  the  liberties  of  the  Galilean 
Church.  Louis  XL  entered  into  negotiations  with  the 
papacy  for  its  revocation  ;  but  it  continued  in  force  until 
the  time  of  Francis  I.,  who  substituted  for  it  a  concordat 
with  Pope  Leo  X.  The  decisions  of  the  council  of  Basel 
were  also  embodied  in  a  pragmatic  sanction  by  a  diet 
which  met  at  Mainz  in  1439;  but  by  the  concordat  of 
Vienna,  concluded  in  1448  by  the  emperor  Frederick  III. 
with  Pope  Nicholas  V.,  most  of  the  advantages  which  the 
diet  had  hoped  to  secure  for  the  church  in  Germany  were 
abandoned.  The  most  famous  of  all  pragmatic  sanctions 
was  that  of  the  emperor  Charles  VI.  In  1713  it  was 
issued  as  a  family  statute,  but,  as  the  emperor  proposed 
that  it  should  become  a  fundamental  law  of  the  state,  it 
was  afterwards  submitted  to  the  diets  of  tlie  lands  ruled 
by  the  house  of  Austria  by  hereditary  right.  Having 
been  accepted  by  the  estates  of  Lower  Austria  and 
Bohemia  in  1720,  by  the  Hungarian  diet  in  1722,  and  by 
the  remaining  diets  between  1720  and  1724,  it  was  pro- 
claimed as  a  fundamental  law  on  the  6th  of  December 
1724.  By  this  edict  it  was  decreed  that  the  Austrian 
lands  should  always  be  united  ;  that  they  should  be  ruled 
by  Charles  VI. 's  male  descendants ;  that,  if  he  had  no 
male  descendants,  his  territorioj  should  pass  to  his  female 
descendants ;  and  that,  if  his  female  descendants  died 
without  issue,  the  right  of  succession  should  belong  to  the 
daughters  of  his  brother  Joseph  and  to  their  male  and  female 
offspring  in  accordance  with  the  law  of  primogeniture. 
In  the  interest  of  his  daughter  Maria  Theresa  the  emperor 
spared  no  pains  to  secure  from  the  emjjire  and  from  the 
other  powers  guarantees  for  the  execution  of  this  law ;  and, 
when  his  nieces,  who  as  the  daughters  of  his  elder  brother 
might  prove  to  be  dangerous  rivals  of  Maria  Tlieresa,  were 
married,  one  to  the  electoral  prince  of  Saxony,  the  other  to 
the  electoral  prince  of  Bavaria,  ho  caused  them  to  declare 
on  oath  that  they  abandoned  their  claims.  Nevertlieless 
after  his  death  the  pragmatic  sanction  led  to  the  War  of 
*he  Austrian  Succession.  In  1759  a  pragmatic  sanction 
■was  issued  by  Charles  III.  of  Spain  grai\ting  the  throne 
"{ the  Two  Sicilies  to  his  third  son  and  his  descendants. 

10-24 


PRAGUE  (German,  Prag ;  Bohemian,  Praha),  the  capi- 
tal of  Bohemia,  the  seat  of  an  archbishop,  and  the  third 
largest  town  of  the  Austrian-Hungarian  monarchy,  lies  on 
both  banks  of  the  Moldau  in  50°  5'  N.  lat.  and  14°  25'  E. 
long.,  150  miles  to  the  north-west  of  Vienna  and  75  miles 
to  the  south-south-east  of  Dresden.  Its  position,  near  the 
centre  of  the  country  and  at  the  only  point  where  the 
valley  of  the  Moldau  expands  suflBciently  to  make  room 
for  a  great  city,  marks  it  out  as  the  natural  capital  of 
Bohemia,  and  the  picturesque  effect  of  its  masses  of  build- 
ings and  innumerable  spires  and  towers,  filling  the  valley 
and  climbing  the  hUls  on  either  side,  is  enhanced  by  their 
stirring  historical  background.  The  heights  on  the  left  bank 
descend  somewhat  rapidly  to  the  river  and  are  crowned 
by  the  venerable  Hradschin,  or  palace  of  the  Bohemian 
kings,  which  forms  the  dominant  feature  in  every  view  of 
the  town.  On  the  other  bank  there  is  a  considerable  level 
space  between  the  river  and  the  base  of  the  hills.  An 
additional  charm  is  lent  to  the  scene  by  the  pleasant  green 
islands  in  the  Moldau,  which  is  here  500  to  1500  feet  in 
width.  The  general  features  of  the  situation  recall  those 
of  Budapest,  and  the  smaller  scale  is  fully  compensated  for 
by  the  greater  variety  and  interest  of  the  buildings. 

The  town  proper  consists  of  four  main  divisions,  the 
Altstadt  and  the  Neustadt  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Moldau, 
and  the  KJeinseite  and  the  Hradschin  on  the  left.  Imme- 
diately beyond  the  old  line  of  circumvallation  are  the 
suburbs  of  Carolinenthal,  Wyscherad,  Smichow,  and  Wein- 
berg, while  these  in  turn  are  adjoined  by  various  outer 
suburban  districts.  Down  to  1866  Prague  was  surrounded 
with  walls  and  bastions,  which,  however,  had  long  lost 
their  military  importance,  and  have  since  been,  to  a  great 


Plan  of  Prague. 

1. 

Imperial  Pa)ace. 
St  Vltus'B  Cnthedral. 

10. 

Church  of  IhoKnIghtJ 

17. 

2. 

of  tho  Cross. 

IS. 

H, 

Dolvedcro  Villa. 

11. 

Clcnicntinuin. 

111. 

4. 

Palnco  Wnldntcln. 

12. 

Count  Clam  GtUas't 

m. 

B. 

8t  Nlcholan  Church. 

Pnlnco. 

•Jl. 

II 

Capuchin  Mnnftstrj-y. 
StLorcttn  Church. 

la. 

Town-himsc. 

•i-2. 

7. 

14, 

Toyn  Church. 

■-'3. 

8. 

Stnihow  Monastery. 

n. 

Cftmllnum. 

'.M. 

9. 

RudoUlnum. 

lis. 

Civil  Courta. 

■2j. 

Nat.  Dohem  MuRAum. 
Mnria  Schnrc  Clturt^i. 
BavingH  Bank. 
BoliPiiilaTi  Tlicatrr. 
NciiHtAdt'loun-huuiie* 
TocliiilcalOdlrKe. 
Eininaun  Chiircn. 
Carlsliof  Church. 
JdwUh  Ccmctory. 

extent,  removed.  The  two  sides  of  the  river  arc  connected 
by  seven  bridges,  of  which  tho  most  imporlciiit  are  tho 
Kaiser  Franz  Bunpcnsion  bridge,  tho  new  ialaoky  briJge, 
and  tho  fine  old  Carls  bridge.  This  last,  erected  L^lwccn 
1350  and  1500,  is  closed  at  each  end  by  a  niedic^v*;!  jrate- 
tower,  of  which  that  to  tho  cast  is  particularly  interesting, 
Tho  numerous  buttresses  aro  adorned  with  atatUL.  of  saints, 


658 


P  R  A  G  U  E 


ftinoDg  ctem  that  of  5t  Jolrn  Xepomuk,  who  esuiied  his 
title  to  be  regardei  as  the  patron  saint  of  bridges  from 
the  fact  that  he  here  allowed  himself  to  be  thrown  into 
the  Mdldau  at  the  order  of  King  Wenceslaus  rather  than 
divulge  the  queen's  confidences  in  the  confessional  (1393). 
The  statue  is  regarded  with  great  veneration  and  is  visited 
by  thousands  of  devotees  on  the  saint's  anniversary 
(16th  May). 

The  Altstadt,  or  old  town,  is  the  most  densely  populated 
part  of  Prague  and  the  principal  seat  of  traffic.  Most  of 
the  streets  are  narrow  and  irregular,  but  the  centre  of  the 
district  is  occupied  by  a  spacious  square  called  the  Grosser 
Ring,  and  the  side  next  the  Moldau  is  bordered  by  wide 
quays  embellished  with  handsome  monuments  to  Charles 
IV.  and  Francis  I.  On  one  side  of  the  Ring  stands  the 
town-house,  to  a  great  extent  rebuilt,  but  still  comprising 
part  of  the  mediaeval  structure  that  witnessed  so  many  of 
the  stormy  scenes  of  Bohemian  history.  Opposite  is  the 
Teyn  church,  or  old  church  of  the  Calixtine  Hussites,  built 
in  1407,  and  containing  the  tomb  of  Tycho  Brahe,  the 
Danish  astronomer.  Another  interesting  structure  is  the 
Late  Gothic  Pulverthurm,  a  relic  of  the  old  wall  that  once 
separated  the  Altstadt  from  the  Neustadt.  The  Altstadt 
is  also  the  seat  of  the  university  and  several  other  educa- 
tional establishments.  The  university,  founded  by  Charles 
rV.  in  1348,  was  the  first  in  the  German  empire,  and  was 
attended  by  10,000  to  15,000  students,  until  invidious 
distinctions  made  between  Bohemians  and  Germans  led 
the  latter  to  secede  in  a  body  and  found  academies  for 
themselves  in  other  parts  of  Germany.  The  institution, 
however,  still  ranks  high  among  European  seats  of  learning 
and  numbers  above  2600  students.  Lectures  are  delivered 
both  in  Bohemian  and  in  German, .  and  students  may 
graduate  in  either  language.  The  faculties  of  medicine 
and  law  occupy  the  Carolinum  near  the  town-hall,  while 
those  of  theology  and  philosophy  are  established  in  the 
Clementinum,  a  huge  old  Jesuit  college,  which  also  com- 
prises the  university  library  (180,000  vols.),  several  chapeb, 
a  school,  and  the  archiepiscopal  seminary.  The  most  con- 
spicuous modern  buildings  are  the  civil  courts,  the  savings 
bank,  and  the  Rudolfinum,  a  large  Renaissance  edifice  on 
the  quay,  containing  an  academy  of  art,  a  couservatorium 
for  music,  and  an  industrial  museum.  The  church  of  the 
Knights  of  the  Cross  (Ki-euzherrenkirche)  is  an  imposing 
building  modelled  on  St  Peter's  at  Rome,  and  the  palace 
of  Count  Clam  Gallas  is  a  tasteful  Renaissance  structure 
of  1701.  Enclosed  within  the  Altstadt  is  the  Josephstadt, 
or  Jewish  quarter,  a  labyrinth  of  crowded  and  dingy  streets, 
to  which  the  Jews  were  strictly  confined  down  to  1848. 
The  Jewish  colony  of'  Prague  is  one  of  the  most  ancient 
in  Europe ;  the  Jewish  cemetery,  with  its  thousands  of 
closely-packed  tombstones  interspersed  with  shrubs  and 
creeping  plants,  is  one  of  the  most  curious  sights  in  Prague. 

The  Neustadt,  or  new  town,  surrounds  the  old  town  in 
the  form  of  a  semicircle,  reaching  the  river  both  to  the 
north  and  to  the  south  of  it.  The  site  of  the  old  wall 
and  moat  that  formerly  separated  the  two  quarters  is  now 
occupied  by  a  line  of  the  handsomest  and  busiest  streets 
in  Prague,  and  the  rest  of  the  Neustadt  also  consists  of 
broad  and  well-built  streets  and  squares.  Conspicuous 
among  the  buildings  are  the  numerous  hospitals  and 
asylums  on  the  south  side,  forming  a  phalanx  of  charitable 
institutioiis  that  do  great  credit  to  the  philanthropy  of  the 
citizens.  The  town-house,  now  used  as  a  criminal  court, 
is  interesting  as  the  spot  where  the  Bohemian  Hussite 
war  was  inaugurated  by  the  hurling  of  several  unpopular 
councillors  from  the  window.  Other  noteworthy  edifices 
are  the  Bohemian  museum,  the  Bohemian  technical  college 

il500  students),  the  magnificent  new  Bohemian  theatre 
erected  at  a  cost  of  £200,000),  and  the  churches  of 


Carlshof,  Emmaus,  and  Maria  Schnee.  To  the  south  the 
Neustadt  is  adjoined  by  the  Wyscherad,  or  citadel,  the 
oldest  part  of  Prague.  The  original  fortress  was  almost 
entirely  destroyed  by  the  Hussites,  and  the  present  fortifi- 
cations are  modern. 

The  Kleinseite,  or  Little  Prague,  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
Moldau,  occupies  the  slopes  of  the  Laurenzberg  and  the 
Hradschin  and  is  the  headquarters  of  the  aristocratic  and 
official  classes.  Like  the  Altstadt,  its  centre  is  formed  by 
a  "ring,"  containing  the  large  and  handsome  Jesuit 
church  of  St  Nicholas  and  a  fine  monument  to  Marshal 
Radetzky.  The  most  generally  interesting  of  the  numer- 
ous palaces  of  the  Bohemian  noblesse  is  the  Palace  Wald- 
stein  or  WaUenstein,  an  extensive  edifice  built  by  the 
hero  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War  and  still  occupied  by  his 
descendants.  EJeinseite  also  contains  the  hall  of  the 
Bohemian  diet  and  the  residence  of  the  statthalter  or 
governor  of  Bohemia.  To  the  north  it  ends  in  the  plea- 
sant promenades  bamed  after  the  crown-prince  Eudolf. 
which  stretch  along  the  bank  of  the  Moldau. 

The  Hradschin,  or  castle  hill,  rises  abruptly  behind  the 
Kleinseite  to  a  height  of  about  240  feet.     The  imperial 
palace,  a  vast  and  irregular  group  of  buildings  crowning 
the  height,  is  remarkable   rather  for  its  situation  and 
extent  than  for  architectural  importance.     It  is  said  to 
have  been  founded  by  Princess  Libussa,  and  was  greatly 
enlarged  by  Charles  IV.  and  others,  but  nowoflFers  little 
of  a  mediaevcd  character  with  the  exception  of  two  or  three 
towers.     Few  of  the  440  rooms  it  is  said  to  contain  are 
of  any  special  interest;,  in  the  council  chamber  is  still 
pointed  out  the  window  from  which  the  imperial  council- 
lors Martinitz  and  Slavata  were  hurled  in  1618.     Within 
the  large  court  of   the   palace   stands  the   cathedral  of 
St  Vitus,   begun  in   1344,   in   evident  imitation  of   the 
cathedral  of  Cologne,  but  consisting  of  little  more  than 
the  extensive  Late  Gothic  choir  (1385).     Efforts  are  now 
being  made  to  bring  it  to  completion.     The  tower  was 
originally  500  feet  high,  but  lost  two-fifths  of  its  height 
by  a  fire.     The  interior  enshrines  several  works  of  con- 
siderable interest  and  value,  such  as  the  mausoleum  of 
the  Bohemian  kings,  a  fine  Eenaissance  work  in  alabaster 
and_  marble  by  Alex.  CoUn  of  Mechlin  (1589) ;  the  shrine 
of  St  John  Nepomuk,  said  to  contain  H  tons  of  soHd  silver; 
and  the  chapel  of  St  Wenceslaus,  the  walls  of  which  are 
encrusted  with  jasper,  chalcedony,  and  amethyst.     In  the 
treasury  are  the  Bohemian  regalia.     The  palace  precincts 
also  enclose  the  church  of  St  George,  dating  from  the  1 2th 
century,  and  one  of  the  few  Romanesque  edifices  of  which 
Prague  can  boast.     To  the  west  of  the  imperial  palace  is 
a  wide  square  with  three  large-  palaces,  one  belonging  to 
the  archbishop  of  Prague.     Farther  on  is  another  square, 
surrounded. by  the  extensive  palace  of  Count  Czernin  (now 
a  barrack), "a  large  Capuchin  monastery,  and  the  church 
of  St  Loretto,  an  imitation  of  ths  wandering  Casa  Santa. 
At  the  extreme  west  of  this  quarter,  adjoining  the  wall, 
is  the  imposing  monastery  of  Strahow,  possessing  a  good 
collection  of  pictures  and  a  large  library.     To  the  north 
of  the  imperial  palace  is  a  picturesque  gorge  called  the 
Hirschgraben,  beyond  which  are  the  palace  gardens,  con- 
taining the  Belvedere,  a  villa  erected  by  Ferdinand  I.  in 
1536,  and  considered  one  of  the  most  tasteful  reproduc- 
tions of  Italian  architecture' to  the  north  of  the  Alps. 

Prague  is  unusually  well  supplied  with  public  parks 
and  gardens,  aSj  in  addition  to  those  already  mentioned, 
pleasure-groimds  have  been  laid  out  on  the  islands  in  the 
Moldau,  on  the  slopes  of  the  Laurenzberg,  and  on  part 
of  the  ground  occupied  by  the  old  fortifications.  Among 
the  most  popular  resorts  are  the  charming  grounds  of  the 
Baumgarten,  a  mile  to  the  north  of  the  EHeinseite.  Beth 
the  indusjtry  and  the  commerce  of  Bohemia  have  thcic 


P  R  A  — P  R  A 


659 


focus  in  Prague,  the  chief  seats  of  the  former  being  the 
large  manufacturing  suburbs  of  Smichow  (21,000  inhabit- 
ants) and  Carolinenthal  (20,000  inhabitants),  the  one  to 
the  south  of  the  Kleinseite  and  the  other  to  the  north- 
east of  the  Neustadt.  The  most  prominent  items  in  a 
very  miscellaneous  list  of  industrial  products  are  linen, 
cotton,  calico,  and  leather  goods,  gloves,  machinery,  con- 
fectionery, beer,  and  chemicals.  Garnet  wares  also  form 
a  specialty.  Trade  is  facilitated  by  an  extensive  system 
of  roads  and  railways,  but  the  river  navigation  is  unim- 
portant owing  to  the  numerous  weirs  and  the  insufficient 
depth.  In  1880  Prague  proper  contained  162,323  in- 
habitants, or  including  the  suburban  districts  about 
250,000;  and  at  the  beginning  of  1885  the  total  popula- 
tion was  officially  stated  at  272,333.  Nearly  five-sevenths 
of  these  are  of  Slavonic  race,  while  all  are  Roman  Catholics 
with  the  exception  of  20,000  Jews  and  5000  Protestants. 
The  Germans,  however,  though  diminishing  in  relative 
numbers,  still  claim  to  represent  the  bulk  of  the  capital 
and  culture  of  the  city.  The  garrison  consists  of  from 
8000  to  10,000  men. 

The  foundation  of  Prague  is  ascribed  to  the  princess  Libussa, 
who  appears  at  the  beginning  of  the  8th  century  of  our  era  as  ruling 
the  Bohemians  from  her  stronghold  of  Wyscherad  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Moldau.  It  is  at  least  certain  that  the  town  made 
rapid  progress  under  the  fostering  care  of  the  early  Bohemian 
sovereigns,  and  in  the  13th  century  it  was  able  to  bid  defiance  to 
the  Tatar  hordes  that  then  overran  the  country.  Its  chief  period 
of  prosperity  was  the  reign  of  Charles  IV.  (1346-1378),  who  by  found- 
ine  the  university,  establishing  fairs,  and  investing  the  town  with 
valuable  privileges  attracted  to  it  numerous  strangers.  At  this 
time  Prague  was  perhaps  the  most  important  town  in  Germany, 
and  could  even  boast  of  an  independent  school  of  art.  Afterwards, 
however,  Prague  became  the  centre  of  the  agitation  that  culmi- 
nated in  the  Hussite  wars,  and  thus  brought  upon  itself  a  long 
train  of  misfortunes.  The  Hussites  took  possession  of  the  city 
Boon  after  defeating  the  emperor  Sigismund,  and  allowed  their  re- 
ligious zeal  to  carry  them  so  far  as  to  destroy  many  of  the  most 
interesting  old  churches  in  the  city — a  fact  that  accounts  for  the 
want  of  venerable  ecclesiastical  editices  in  Prague.  The  town  was, 
however,  afterwards  rebuilt  by  the  imperialists  upon  an  improved 
scale.  Under  Rudolf  II.  (1576-1612)  a  second  season  of  prosperity 
was  enjoyed  ;  Copernicus,  Tycho  Brahe,  and  other  men  eminent  in 
science,  art,  or  letters  flocked  to  the  court  of  this  qnlightened 
monarch  and  contributed  to  the  importance  of  his  capital.  Prague 
suffered  its  full  share  of  the  evils  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  which 
may  be  saiii  to  have  begun  here  with  the  precipitation  of  the 
councillors  from  the  window  of  the  Hradschin  (1618),  and  to  have 
ended  here  with  the  occupation  of  the  Kleinseite  by  the  Swedes  in 
1618.  ITie  town  was  occupied  by  the  imperialists  after  the  defeat 
of  the  Protestants  at  the  White  Hill  in  1G20,  and  its  Protestant 
sjrmpathies  caused  it  to  find  scant  grace  in  the  eyes  of  the  victors. 
It  was  taken  by  the  Swedes  in  1631,  by  AVallenslein  in  1632,  by 
the  French  and  Bavarians  in  1741,  and  by  Frederick  the  Great  in 
1744.  In  1757  it  narrowly  escaped  a  second  capture  by  Frederick, 
who  held  it  closely  invested  after  defeating  tho  Austrians  at  the 
battle  of  Pragne,  but  was  compelled  to  raise  the  siege  by  the  disaster 
of  Kolin.  This  was  the  last  tmie  Prague  underwent  a  siege,  though 
it  was  occupied  by  tho  Prussians  in  1866.  During  the  present 
century  its  material  advance  has  been  unbroken,  but  its  harmonious 
social  development  has  been  hampered  by  tho  disunion  between 
the  Czechish  and  German  elements  of  its  population.  The  revolu- 
tionary ideas  of  1848  found  a  warm  response  in  the  nationalist 
party  of  Bohemia,  and  a  Pan-Slavonic  congress  was  opened  at 
Prague  in  May  of  that  year.  Unfortunately,  however,  a  colli.sion 
took  place  between  the  military  and  tho  populoce,  and  Prince 
Windischgriitz  forcibly  dissolved  the  congress  and  bombarded  tho 
town  for  two  days.  In  1862  a  new  impetus  was  given  to  tho 
Slavonic  agitation  by  the  formation  of  a  Bohemian  diet,  and  since 
then  the  fissure  between  the  warring  races  has  grown  wider  rather 
than  diminished.  Tho  Slavs  seem  to  bo  steadily  gaining  ground 
at  the  expense  of  the  Germans  both  in  numbers  and  intluonce. 
Among  tho  celebrated  natives  of  Prague  tho  most  eminent  in 
public  interest  are  John  IIuss  (13C9-1416)  and  Jeromo  of  Pragiio 
(c.  1365-1416).  A  fragment  ot  the  house  of  tho  former  is  still 
shown  in  the  Altatadt.  (J.  F.  M.) 

PRAHRAN,  a  city  of  Victoria,  Australia,  is  situated 
about  3i  miles  south-east  of  Melbourne,  with  which  it  is 
connected  by  the  Melbourne  and  Brighton  Railway,  and 
by  road  over  a  fine  iron  girder  bridge  which  crosses  the 


Yarra.  It  is  a  well-built  city,  with  handsome  shops 
and  numerous  villas.  Among  the  public  buildings  are 
the  town-hall,  with  a  lofty  tower,  containing  the  rooms  of 
the  free  library,  and  the  mechanics'  institute.  There  are 
a  number  of  charitable  institutions.  Prahran  was  created 
a  municipality  in  1856,  a  borough  in  1863,  and  a  city  in 
1879.  The  area  of  the  city  is  2320  acres,  with  a  popula- 
tion in  1881  of  21,169. 

PRAIRIE  DOG.    See  Mahmot,  vol.  xv.  p.  560. 

PRAKRIT  {prakrta,  "common,"  as  contrasted  with 
sarpshia,  "  perfect ")  is  the  term  applied  to  the  vemaculai 
languages  of  India  derived  from  Sanskrit.  In  the  San- 
skrit drama  all  except  the  highest  male  characters  speak 
Prakrit.  Prakrit  grammar  was  written  in  the  Hindu 
scientific  style — on  the  lines  of  Panini — by  Yararuci,  one 
of  the  "nine  gems"  of  Yikramaditya's  court,'  and  by 
Hemacandra ;  these  grammarians  distinguish  at  least  four 
different  kinds  of  Prakrit,  the  relations  and  localization  of 
which  are  by  no  means  clear.  The  word  Prakrit  is  some- 
times used  of  all  the  still  SDoken  Aryan  vernaculars  of 
India.     See  Sauskeit. 

PRAM,  Chkisten  Heneikskn  (1756-1821),  Scandi- 
navian poet,  was  born  in  Gudbrandsdal,  Norway,  in  1756, 
and  educated  in  Copenhagen,  where  in  1781  he  received 
ail  appointment  in  the  chamber  of  commerce,  which  gave 
him  considerable  leisure  for  literature.  In  1785  he  pub- 
slished  Stmrkodder,  a  romantic  epic  based  on  some  of  the 
old  Scandinavian  legends,  in  fifteen  cantos,  and  in  the 
same  year  he  began  to  edit  Minerva,  a  journal  of  some 
influence  in  Danish  literature.  He  also  wrote  two  trage- 
dies {Damon  and  Pythias  and  Frode  and  Fingal),  several 
comedies,  and  a  number  of  tales  characterized  by  bright- 
ness and  humour.  In  1819  he  removed  to  the  West- 
Indian  island  of  St  Thomas,  where  he  died  on  25th 
November  1821.  His  select  poetical  works  were  after- 
wards edited,  with  a  biography,  by  his  friend  K.  L.  Kahbek 
(6  vols.,  1824-29).     Compare  Denmaek,  vol.  vii.  p.  91. 

PRATINCOLE,  a  word  apparently  invented,  by  Latham 
{Si/nopsis,  v.  p.  222),  being  the  English  rendering  of 
Pratincola,  applied  in  1756  by  Kramer  (ElencJiits,  p.  381) 
to  a  bird  which  had  hitherto  received  no  definite  name, 
though  it  had  long  before  been  described  and  even  re- 
cognizably figured  by  Aldrovandus  {Omithologia,  xvii.  9) 
under  the  vague  designation  of  "kirundo  marina."  It  is 
tho  Olareola  pratincola  of  modern  ornithologists,  forming 
the  typo  of  a  genus  Glareola,  founded  by  Brisson  *  in  1760, 
and  unquestionably  belonging  (as  is  now  generally  ad- 
mitted) to  the  group  Limicolir,,  being  either  placed  in  tho 
Family  Charadnidx  or  regarded  as  constituting  a  separate 
Family  Glareolidx.  The  Pratincoles,  of  which  some  eight 
or  nine  species  have  been  described,  are  all  small  birds, 
slenderly  built  and  mostly  delicately  coloured,  with  a  short 
stout  bill,  a  wide  gape,  long  pointed  wings,  and  a  taQ 
more  or  less  forked.  In  some  of  their  habits  they  are 
thoroughly  Plover-like,  runningWery  swiftly  and  breedLog 
on  tho  ground,  but  on  tho  wing  they  have  much  the 
appearance  of  Swallows,  and  like  them  feed,  at  least 
partly,  while  flying.^     The  ordinary  Pratincole  of  Europe, 

'  The  era  of  Vikramuditya  is  reckoned  ttom  66  B,o.,  bat  many 
authorities  place  him  650  a.d. 

'  Not  by  Oniclin  as  inadvortently  misstated  (OsNirnoLOOT,  vol. 
xviii.  p.  19,  note  1). 

'  This  combination  of  characters  for  many  years  led  syatematizera 
astray,  though  some  of  them  wore  from  tho  firjit  correct  in  their 
notions  as  to  tho  Pratincole's  position.  Linna<us,  even  in  his  latest 
publication,  placed  it  in  the  genus  Uirundo  ;  but  the  interleaved  ond 
annotated  copies  of  his  Systrmn  NaiursB  in  the  Linncan  Society's 
library  shew  tho  species  marked  for  separation  and  insertion  in  tho 
Order  OraUm — Pratincola  trac/ielia  being  tho  name  by  which  ho  had 
meant  to  designate  it  in  sny  future  edition.  Ho  seems  to  have  been 
induced  to  this  change  Of  view  mainly  through  a  speciraou  of  tho  bird 
sent  to  him  by  John  the  brother  of  Gilbert  White  ;  but  the  opinion 


660 


P  K  A  — P  R  E 


G.  pratincola,  breeds  abundantly  in  many  parts  of  Spain, 
Barbary,  and  Sicily,  along  the  valley  of  the  Danube,  and 
in  Southern  Russia,  -while  owing  to  its  great  powers  of 
flight  it  frequently  wanders  far  from  its  home,  and  more 
than  a  score  of  examples  have  been  recorded  as  occurring 
in  the  British  Islands.  In  the  south-east  of  Europe  a 
second  and  closely -allied  species,  G.  nordmanni  or  G. 
melanoptera,  which  has  black  instead  of  chestnut  inner 
wing-coverts,  accompanies  or,  further  to  the  eastward,  re- 
places it ;  and  in  its  turn  it  is  replaced  in  India,  China,  and 
Australia  by  G.  oiientalis.  Australia  also  possesses  another 
species,  G.  grallaria,  remarkable  for  the  great  length  of 
its  wings  and  much  longer  legs,  while  its  tail  is  scarcely 
forked — peculiarities  that  have  led  to  its  being  considered 
the  tjrpe  of  a  distinct  genus  or  subgenus  Stiltia.  Two 
species,  G.  lactea  and  G.  cinerea,  from  India  and  Africa 
respectively,  seem  by  their  pale  coloration  to  be  desert 
forms,  and  they  are  the  smallest  of  this  curious  little  group. 
The  species  whose  mode  of  nidification  is  known  lay  either 
two  or  three  eggs,  stone-coloured,  blotched,  spotted,  and 
streaked  with  black  or  brownish-grey.  The  young  when 
hatched  are  clothed  in  down  and  are  able  to  run  at  once — 
just  as  are  young  Plovers.  (a.  n.) 

PRATO,  a  city  and  bishop's  see  of  Italy,  in  the  province 
of  Florence,  on  the  north  edge  of  the  alluvial  plain  which 
extends  between  Florence  and  Pistoia.  By  rail  it  is  dis- 
tant from  the  former  city  11 J  miles  and  from  the  latter 
9J.  The  cathedral  of  St  Stephen,  which  stands  in  a 
square  surrounded  by  houses  of  the  16th  century,  is  partly 
of  the  12th  and  partly  of  the  14th  and  15th  centuries. 
The  facade,  in  alternate  bands  of  white  calcareous  sand- 
stone and  green  serpentine,  has  a  fine  doorway  and  a  bas- 
relief  by  Luca  della  Robbia ;  but  the  most  striking  external 
feature  is  the  lovely  open-air  pulpit  at  an  angle  of  the 
building,  erected  (1428)  by  Donatello  and  Michelozzo  for 
displaying  to  the  people  without  risk  the  Virgin's  girdle, 
brought  from  the  Holy  Land  by  a  knight  of  Prato  in 
1 1 30.  The  chapel  of  the  Girdle  has  frescos  by  Agnolo 
Gaddi  and  a  statue  of  the  Virgin  by  Giovanni  Pisano ; 
and  the  frescos  in  the  choir  are  considered  the  most  im- 
portant work  of  Fra  FUippo  Lippi  (q.v.).  The  municipal 
palace  also  possesses  a  collection  of  Lippi'a  paintings. 
Prato  is  a  busy  industrial  town,  the  seat  of  a  great  straw- 
plaiting  establishment,  paper-mills,  brass -foundries,  <fec., 
and  outside  of  the  gates  which  pierce  the  old  city  walls 
several  small  suburbs  have  grown  up.  The  city  had  13,410 
inhabitants  in  1881  (inclusive  of  the  suburbs,  15,510) 
and  the  commune  16,641. 

Prato  is  said  to  be  fir^t  mentioned  by  name  iu  1107,  bat  the 
cathedral  appears  as  early  as  1048  as  the  parish  church  of  Borgo 
Coraio  or  Santo  Stefano.  In  1313  the  town  acknowledged  the 
authority  of  Robert,  king  of  Kaples,  and  in  1350  Niccola  Acciajoli,. 
seneschal  of  Joanna,  sold  it  to  the  Florentines  for  17,500  florins  of 
gold.  In  1512  it  was  sacked  by  the  Spaniards  under  General  Car- 
dona.     In  1653  it  obtained  the  rank  of  city. 

PRATT,  Chajiles.     See  Camden,  Earl. 

PRAXITELES,  a  Greek  sculptor,  soo  and  apparently 
also  pupil  of  the  Athenian  Cephisodotus.  An  account  of 
his  works  is  given  in  voL  ii.  p.  361 ;  but  since  that  was 
written  there  has  been  found  at  Olympia,  where  it  still 
remains,  a  marble  statue  from  his  hand,  Hermes  carrying 
tee  infant  Dionysus.  Though  a  work  of  comparatively 
youthful  years,  as  may  be  inferred  from  his  obyious  in- 
debtedness to  his  father  Cephisodotus,  particularly  in  the 

published  in  1769  by  Scopoli  {Ann.  J.  hist,  naturalis,  p.  110)  had 
doubtless  contributed  thereto,  though  the  earlier  judgment  to  the 
samd  effect  of  Brisson,  as  meutioned  above,  had  been  disregarded. 
Want  pf  space  here  forbids  a  notice  of  the  different  erroneous  assign- 
menta  of  the  form,  some  of  them  made  even  by  recent  authors,  who 
neglected  the  clear  evidence  afforded  by  the  internal  structure  of  the 
Pratincole.  It  must  suffice  to  state  that  Sundevall  in  1873  (Tenlamen, 
p.  86)  placed  Olareola  among  the  Caprimulgidsef  a  positiob  which 
•steology  she.w3  cannot  be  maintained  for  a  moment. 


figure  of  Dionysus,  it  is  nevertheless  a  masterpiece  in  thosa 
qualities  for  which  Praxiteles  was  famed  in  antiquity,  the 
representation  of  what  is  called  sympathetic  types  of  human 
or  divine  beings,  and  the  rendering  of  very  subtle  phases  of 
emotion.  The  Hermes,  while  massive  in  build,  is  flexible 
and  sensitive  in  his  skin  and  flesh,  indolent  in  his  attitude, 
his  mind  sufficiently  occupied  for  the  moment  in  trifling 
with  the  infant  on  his  left  arm.  In  recent  years  it  has 
been  sought  to  prove  that  certain  of  the  sculptures  attri- 
buted in  antiquity  to  Praxiteles  were  really  the  work  of  a 
grandfather  of  his  of  the  same  name.  But  the  tendency 
of  investigation  has  rather  been  to  dispel  these  views  as 
illusory. 

PRECEDENCE.  This  word  in  the  sense  in  which  it 
is  here  employed  means  priority  of  place,  or  superiority 
of  rank,  in  the  conventional  system  of  arrangement  under 
which  the  more  eminent  and  dignified  orders  of  the  com- 
munity are  classified  on  occasions  of  public  ceremony  and 
in  the  intercours&of  private  life.  In  the  United  Kingdom 
there  is  no  complete  and  comprehensive  code  whereby  the 
scheme  of  social  gradation  has  been  defined  and  settled, 
once  and  for  all,  on  a  sure  and  lasting  foundation.  The 
principles  and  rules  at  present  controlling  it  have  been 
formulated  at  diSerent  periods  and  have  been  derived  from  ■ 
various  sources.  The  crown  is  the  fountain  of  honour,  and  I 
it  is  its  undoubted  prerogative  to  confer  on  any  of  its  sub- 
jects, in  any  part  of  its  dominions,  such  titles  and  dis- 
tinctions and  such  rank  and  place  as  to  it  may  seem  meet 
and  convenient.  Its  discretion  in  this  respect  is  altogether 
unbounded  at  common  law,  and  is  limited  in  those  cases 
only  wherein  it  has  been  submitted  to  restraint  by  Act  of 
parliament.  In  the  old  time  all  questions  of  precedence  ^ 
came  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things  within  the  juria- 
diction  of  the  Court  of  Chivalry,  in  which  the  lord  high 
constable  and  earl  marshal  presided  as  judges,  and  of 
which  the  kings  of  arms,  heralds,  and  pursuivants  wers 
the  assessors  and  executive  officers.  When,  however, 
points  of  unusual  moment  and  magnitude  happened  to  be  ■ 
brought  into  controversy,  they  were  occasionally  considered  m 
and  decided  by  the  sovereign  in  person,  or  by  a  special 
commission,  or  by  the  privy  council,  or  even  by  the  parlia- 
ment itself.  But  it  was  not  untU  towards  the  middle  of 
the  16th  century  that  precedence  was  made  the  subject 
of  any  legislation  in  the  proper  meaning  of  the  term.* 

In  1539  an  Act  "for  the  placing  of  the  Lords  in  Parlia- 
ment" (31  Hen.  VTII.  c.  10)  was  passed  at  the  instance 
of  the  king,  and  by  it  the  relative  rank  of  the  members  of 
the  royal  family,  of  the  great  officers  of  state  and  the 
household,  and  of  the  hierarchy  and  the  peerage  was  de- 
finitely and  definitively  ascertained.^  In  1563  an  Act  "for 
declaring  the  authority  of  the  Lord  Keeper  of  the  Great 
Seal  and  the  Lord  Chancellor  to  be  the  same  "  (5  Eliz.  c.  18) 
also  declared  their  precedence  to  be  the  same.     In  1689  an 

^  Ample  materials  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  curiosity  of  thoM 
who  are  desirous  of  investigating  the  history  of  precedence  under  its 
wider  and  more  remote  aspects  will  be  found  in  such  writere  aa 
Selden  or  Mackenzie,  together  with  the  authorities  quoted  or  referred 
to  by  them — Selden,  Titles  of  Honor,  part  ii.  p.  7*0  sq.  (London, 
1672) ;  Mackenzie,  Observati/ms  upon  ihe  Laws  and  Ciistonu  qf 
Nations  as  to  Precedai;y  (Edinburgh,  1680,  and  also  reprinted  ia 
Guillira,  Display  of  Heraldry,  6th  ed.,  London,  1724). 

'  Sir  Bernard  Burke,  Ulster  king  of  arms,  in  his  Book  of  Precedence, 
cites  1  Edw.  VI.  c.  7,  an  Act  "  for  the  Continuance  of  Actions  after  the 
death  of  any  king  of  this  Realm,"  as  a  statute  bearing  on  precedence, 
since,  he  says,  "  it  enumerates  the  then  names  of  dignity."  But,  as  the 
late  Sir  Charles  Young,  Gai-ter  king  of  arms,  has  pointed  ont  in  one  of 
his  privately  printed  tracts,  the  object  of  the  Act  was  simply  to  prevent 
the  abatement  of  suits  under  certain  circumstances,  and  the  names  of 
dignity  therein  ennmer.ited  are  enumerated  in  their  wrong  order.  Ii 
the  statute  of  Edward  VI.  had  any  effect  on  precedence,  dijkes  would 
precede  the  archbishops,  barons  the  bishops,  and  knights  the  judges, 
which  they  have  never  done,  and  which  parliament  could  never  bav* 
intended  that  they  should  do.   .  ^ 


PR.  ECEDENCE 


661 


Act  "  for  enabling  Lords  Commissioners  of  the  Great  Seal 
to  execute  the  office  of  Lord  Chancellor  or  Lord  Keeper  "  (1 
Will,  and  Mary  c.  21)  gave  to  the  commissioners  not  being 
peers  of  the  realm  place  next  to  the  speaker  of  the  House 
of  Commons  and  to  the  speaker  place  next  to  the  peers 
of  the  realm.  In  1707  the  Ac.t  of  Union  with  Scotland 
(6  Anne  c.  11)  provided  that  all  peers  of  Scotland  should 
be  peers  of  Great  Britain '  and  should  have  rank  immedi- 
ately after  the  peers  of  the  like  degrees  in  England  at  the 
time  of  the  Union  and  before  all  peers  of  Great  Britain  of 
the  like  degrees  created  after  the  Union.  In  1800  the  Act 
of  Union  with  Ireland  (39  and  40  Geo.  III.  c.  67)  pro- 
vided that  the  lords  spiritual  of  Ireland  should  have  rank 
immediately  after  the  lords  spiritual  of  the  same  degree 
in  Great  Britain,  and  that  the  lords  temporal  of  Ireland 
should  have  rank  immediately  after  the  lords  temporal  of 
the  same  degree  in  Great  Britain  at  the  time  of  the  Union, 
and  further  that  "peerages  of  Ireland  created  after  the 
Union  should  have  precedence  witji  peerages  of  the  United 
Kingdom  created  after  the  Union  according  to  the  dates  of 
their  creation."  At  different  times  too  during  the  current 
century  several  statutes  have  been  passed  for  the  reform 
and  extension  of  the  judicial  organization  which  have  very 
materially  affected  the  precedence  of  the  judges,  more 
especially  the  Judicature  Act  of  1873  (36  and  37  Vict. 
c.  66),  under  which  the  lords  justices  of  appeal  and  the 
justices  of  the  High  Court  now  receive  their  appointments. 
But  the  statute  of  Henry  VIII.  "  for  the  placing  of  the 
Lords"  still  remains  the  only  legislative  measure  in  which 
it  has  been  attempted  to  deal  directly  and  systematically 
\vith  any  large  and  important  section  of  the  scale  of  general 
precedence ;  and  the  law,  so  far  as  it  relates  to  the  ranking 
of  the  sovereign's  immediate  kindred  whether  lineal  or 
collateral,  the  principal  ministers  of  the  crown  and  court, 
and  both  the  spiritual  and  temporal  members  of  the  House 
of  Lords,  is  to  all  practical  intents  and '  purposes  what  it 
was  made  by  that  statute  nearly  350  years  ago.  Wliere  no 
Act  of  parliament  applies,  precedence  is  determined  either 
by  the  will  and  pleasure  of  the  sovereign  or  by  what  is 
accepted  as  "ancient  usage  and  established  custom."  Of 
the  sovereign's  will  and  pleasure  the  appropriate  method 
of  announcemetrt  is  by  warrant  under  the  sign -manual, 
or  letters  patent  under  the  great  seal.  But,  although  the 
crown  has  at  all  periods  very  frequently  conceded  special 
privileges  of  rank  and  place  to  particular  persons,  its 
interference  with  the  scale  of  general  precedence  has 
been  rare  and  exceptional.  In  1540  it  was  provided  by 
warrant  from  Henry  VIII.  that  certain  officers  of  the  house- 
hold therein  named  should  precede  the  secretaries  of  state 
when  and  if  they  were  under  the  degree  of  barons.^  In 
1612  James  I.  directed  by  letters  patent,  not  without  long 
and  elaborate  argiament  in  the  Star  Chamber,  that  baronets, 
then  newly  created,  should  be  ranked  after  the  younger 
«ons  of  viscounts  and  barons,  and  that  a  number  of  political 
and  judicial  functionaries  should  be  ranked  between  knights 
of  the  Garter  and  such  knights  bannerets  as  should  be  made 
by  the  sovereign  in  person  "  under  his  Standard  displayed 
in  an  Army  Royal  in  open  war."  ^  Four  years  later  he 
further  directed,  also  by  letters  patent,  that  the  sons  of 
baronets  and  their  wives  and  the  daughters  of  baronets 
should  be  placed  before  the  sons  of  knights  and  their  wives 

'  For  the  parliamentary  rights  of  Scottish  peers,  see  Peeraqe,  vol. 
"iii.  p.  460. 

'  Quoted  by  Sir  Charles  Young  from  Slate  Papers :  published  ly 
Authority  (4to,  1830)  p.  623,  ia  Privy  Councillors  and  their  Pre- 
cedence (1850)  p.  15. 

'  Patent  Rolls,  lOlh  Jac,  part  i.  mom.  8.  It  is  commonly  stated 
that  the  bannerets  here  referred  to  could  be  made  by  the  prince  of 
Wales  as  well  as  by  the  king.  But  the  privilege  was  conferred  by  James 
I.  on  Henry,  the  then  prince  of  Wales,  only  (Seldon,  Titlea  of  Honor, 
part  li.  p.  760). 


and  the  daughters  of  knights  "  of  what  degree  or  order  so- 
ever." *  And  again  in  1620  the  same  king  commanded  by 
warrant  "after  solemn  argument  before  his  Majesty"  that 
the  younger  sons  of  earls  should  precede  knights  of  the 
privy  council  and  knights  of  the  Garter  not  being  "  bai  ona 
or  of  a  higher  degree."^  If  we  add  to  these  ordinances  the 
provisions  relating  to  precedence  contained  in  the  statutes 
of  several  of  the  orders  of  knighthood  which  since  then 
have  been  instituted  or  reconstructed,  we  shall  nearly,  if  not 
quite,  exhaust  the  catalogue  of  the  interpositions  of  the 
sovereign  with  regard  to  the  rank  and  place  of  classes  as  dis- 
tinguished from  individuals.  Of  "  ancient  usage  and  estab- 
lished custom  "  the  records  of  the  College  of  Arms  furnisb 
the  fullest  and  most  trustworthy  evidence.  Among  them 
in  particular  there  is  a  collection  of  early  tables  of  preced- 
ence which  were  published  by  authority  at  intervals  from 
the  end  of  the  14th  to  the  end  of  the  15th  century,  and  to 
which  peculiar  weight  has  been  attached  by  many  success- 
ive generations  of  heralds.  On  them,  indeed,  as  illustra- 
tive of  and  supplementary  to  the  action  of  parliament 
and  the  crown,  all  subsequent  tables  of  precedence  have 
been  in  great  measure  founded.  The  oldest  is  the  "  Ordei 
of  All  Estates  of  Nobles  and  Gentry,"  prepared  apparently 
for  the  coronation  of  Henry  IV.  in  1399,  under  the  super 
vision  of  Ralph  Nevill,  earl  of  Westmoreland  and  earl 
marshal ;  and  the  next  is  the  "  Order  of  AU  States  of  Wor- 
ship and  Gentry,"  prepared,  as  announced  in  the  heading, 
for  the  coronation  of  Henry  VI.  in  1429,  under  the  super- 
vision of  the  lord  protector  Humphrey,  duke  of  Gloucester, 
and  the  earl  marshal,  John  Mowbray,  duke  of  Norfolk. 
Two  more  are  of  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.,  and  were  sever- 
ally, issued-  by  John  Tiptoft,  earl  of  Worcester  and  lord 
high  constable,  in  1467,  and  by  Anthony  Widvile,  Earl 
Rivers  and  lord  high  constable,  in  1479.  The  latest 
is  commonly  and  shortly  known  as  the  "  Series  Ordinum," 
and  was  drawn  up  by  a  special  commission  presided  over 
by  Jasper  Tudor,  duke  of  Bedford,  it  is  presumed  for 
observance  at  the  marriage  of  Henry  VII.  and  Elizabeth 
of  York  in  1486.  To  these  may  bo  added  the  "  Order  for 
the  Placing  of  Lords  and  Ladies,"  taken  at  a  grand  enter- 
tainment given  by  command  of  Henry  VIII.  at  the  king's 
manor-house  of  Ilichmond  in  1520  by  Charles  Somerset, 
earl  of  Worcester,  lord  chamberlain  of  the  household,  to 
the  French  ambassador,  Olivier  de  la  Vernade,  seigneur  de 
la  Batie ;  the  "  Precedency  of  All  Estates,"  arranged  in 
1594  by  the  commissioners  for  executing  the  oflBce  of  earl 
marshal ;  and  the  "  Roll  of  the  King's  Majesty's  most  Royal 
Proceeding  through  London  "  from  the  Tower  to  WTiitehall 
on  the  eve  of  the  coronation  of  James  I.,  also  arranged  by 
the  commissioners  for  executing  the  office  of  earl  marshal. 
On  many  isolated  points,  too,  of  more  or  less  importance 
special  declaratory  decisions  have  been  from  time  to  time 
propounded  by  the  earls  marshal,  their  substitutes  and 
deputies;  for  example,  in  1594,  when  the  younger  sons 
of  dukes  were  placed  before  viscounts;  in  1625,  when  the 
rank  of  knights  of  the  Bath  and  their  wives  was  fixed ;  and 
in  1615  and  1677,  when  the  eldest  sons  of  the  younger 
sons  of  peers  were  placed  before  the  eldest  sons  of  knighta 
and  of-  baronets.  It  is  from  these  mis<;ellaneou8  sources 
that  the  precedence  among  others  of  all  peeresses,  the  eldest 
sons  and  their  wives  and  the  daughters  of  all  peers,  and 
the  younger  sons  and  their  wives  of  all  dukes,  marquesses, 
and  earls  is  ascertained  and  established.  And  further,  for 
the  purpose  of  proving  continuity  of  practice  and  disposing 
of  minor  questions  not  otherwise  and  more  conclusively 
set  at  rest,  the  official  programmes  and  accounts  preserved 

*  Patent  Rolls,  1-lth  Jac,  part  ii.  mom.  24  ;  Selden,  Titles  of 
Honor,  part  il.  p.  752. 

'  Cited  by  Sir  Cliarles  Young,  Order  o/  Precedence,  tellh  Aulhorititt 
and  Remarks,  p.  27  (London.  1851^ 


662 


PRECEDENCE 


by  the  heralds  of  different  public  solemnities  and  proces- 
sions, such  as  coronations,  royal  marriages,  state  funerals, 
national  thanksgivings,  and  so  on,  have  always  been  con- 
sidered to  be  of  great  historical  and  technical  value.* 

1. — General  Precedence  of  Men. 

The  sovereign ;  (1)  prince  of  Wales ;  (2)  younger  sons 
of  the  sovereign ;  (3)  grandsons  of  the  sovereign ;  (4) 
brothers  of  the  sovereign;  (5)  uncles  of  the  sovereign; 
(6)  nephews  of  the  sovereign  ;2  (7^  archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, primate  of  all  England;  (8)  lord  high  chancellor 
of  Great  Britain  or  lord  keeper  of  the  great  seal;  (9) 
archbishop  of  York,  primate  of  England;'  (10)  lord 
high  treasurer  of  Great  Britain ;  ^  (11)  lord  president  of 
the  privy  council;  (12)  lord  keeper  of  the  privy  seal;* 
(13)  lord  great  chamberlain  of  England;  (14)  lord  high 
constable  of  England;  (15)  earl  marshal;  (16)  lord  high 
admiral;  (17)  lord  steward  of  the  household;  (18)  lord 

•  Selden,  TilUs  of  Honor,  part  ii.  p.  753. 

'  The  precedence  of  the  members  of  the  royal  family  depends  on 
their  relationship  to  the  reigning  sovereign  and  not  on  their  relation- 
ship to  any  of  the  predecessors  of  the  reigiting  sovereign.  It  is  pro- 
vided by  31  Hen.  VIII.  c.  10  that  no  person,  "except  only  the  King's 
children,"  shall  have  place  "at  the  side  of  the  Cloth  of  Estate  in  the 
Parliament  Chamber,"  and  that  "the  King's  Son,  the  King's  Brother, 
the  King's  Nephew,  or  the  King's  Brother's  or  Sister's  Sons"  shall  have 
place  before  all  prelates,  great  officers  of  state,  and  peers.  Lord  Chief 
Justice  Coke  was  of  opinion  that  the  king's  nephew  meant  the  king's 
grandson  or  nepos  {Instiltttes  iv.,  cap.  77).  But,  as  Mr  Justice 
Blackstone  says,  "under  the  description  of  the  King's  children  his 
grandsons  are  held  to  be  included  without  having  recourse  to  Sir 
Edward  Coke's  interpretation  of  nephew"  {Commentaries,  i.  ch.  i). 
Besides,  if  grandson  is  to  be  understood  by  nephew,  the  king's  grand- 
son would  be  placed  after  the  king's  brother.  The  prince  of  Wales 
is  not  specifically  mentioned  in  the  statute  "  for  the  placing  of  the 
Lords  "  ;  but,  as  he  is  always,  whether  the  son  or  the  grandson  of  the 
sovereign,  the  heir-apparent  to  the  crown,  ho  is  ranked  next  to  th% 
sovereign  or  the  qneen-consort.  With  the  exception  of  the  prince  of 
Wales,  all  the  male  relations  of  the  sovereign  are  ranked  first  in  the 
order  of  their  degrees  of  consanguinity  with  him  or  her,  and  secondly, 
in  the  order  of  their  proximity  to  the  succession  to  the  crown  ;  thus 
the  members  of  the  several  groups  into  which  the  roy-al  family  is  divided 
take  precedence  according  to  their  own  seniority  and  the  seniority  of 
their  fathers  or  mothers,  the  sons  of  the  sons  or  brothers  of  the 
Boverei^  being  preferred  to  the  sons  of  the  daughters  or  sisters  of 
the  sovereign  among  the  sovereign's  grandsons  and  nephews. 

'  By  31  Hen.'  VIII.  c.  10,  the  king's  vicegerent  "for  good  and 
due  ministration  of  justice  in  all  causes  and  cases  touching  the  ecclesi- 
astical jurisdiction "  is  placed  immediately  before  the  archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  The  office  of  vicegerent  or  vicar-general  was  then  held 
by  Thomas,  Lord  Cromwell,  afterwards  earl  of  Essex,  together  with 
that  of  lord  ^rivy  seal,  and  it  was  never  conferred  on  any  other 
person.  By  the  Act  of  Union  with  Ireland  the  archbishops  of  Ireland 
had  place  next  to  the  archbishops  of  England,  and  if  consecrated  before 
andnot  after  the  disestablishment  of  the  church  in  Ireland  they  retain 
this  position  under  the  Irish  Cliurch  Act  of  1859.  At  the  coronation 
of  William  IV.  the  lord  chancellor  of  Ireland  walked  next  after  the 
lord  chancellor  of  Great  Britain  and  before  the  lord  president  of  the 
council  and  lord  privy  seal  In  Ireland,  if  he  is  a  peer  he  has  preced- 
ence between  the  archbishops  of  Armagh  and  Dublin,  and  if  be  is  not 
a  peer  after  the  archbisTiop  of  Dublin.  But,  except  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  the  precedence  of  the  lord  chancellor  of  Great  Britain  or  the 
lord  keeper  of  the  great  seal  is  the  same  whether  he  is  a  peer  or  a 
commoner.  The  lord  keeper  has  the  same  precedence  as  the  lord 
chancellor  under  5  Eliz,  c.  IS.  But  the  last  appointment  to  the  lord 
keepcrship  was  that  of  Sir  Robert  Henley,  afterwards  Lord  Henley, 
lord  chanctllor,  and  earl  of  Northington,  in  1757,  and  the  office  is  not 
likely  to  be  revived.  • 

♦  The  last  lord  high  treasurer  was  Charles  Talbot,  duke  of  Shrews- 
bury, in  1714  ;  since  then  the  office  has  been  executed  by  commission 
and  as  a  dignity  is  practically  extinct.  None  of  the  commissioners — 
neither  the  first  lord,  who  is  now  always  the  prime  minister,  nor  any  of 
the  other  or  junior  lords — of  the  treasury  have  any  ofScial  precedence 
whatever. 

•  The  lord  president  of  the  council  and  the  lord  privy  seal,  if  they 
are  peers,  are  placed  by  31  Hen.  VIII.  c.  10  before  all  dukes  except 
dukes  related  to  the  sovereign  in  one  or  other  of  the  degrees  of  con- 
eanguinity  specified  in  tlie  Act.  And,  since  the  holders  of  these  offices 
have  been  and  are  always  peers,  their  proper  precedence  if  they  are 
coramonars  has  never  been  detennincid. 


chamberlain  of  the  household;'  (19)  dukes  ;^  (20)  mar- 

«  It  is  provided  by  31  Hen.  VIII.  c.  10  that  "the  Great  Chamber, 
lain,  the  Constable,  the  Marshal,  the  Lord  Admiral,  the  Grand  Master 
or  Lord  Steward,  and  the  King's  Chamberlain  shall  sit  and  be  placed 
after  the  Lord  Privy  Seal  in  manner  and  form  following  :  that  is  to  say, 
every  one  of  them  shall  sit  and  be  placed  above  all  other  personages 
being  of  the  same  estates  or  degrees  that  they  shall  happen  to  be  of, 
that  is  to  say  the  Great  Chamberlain  first,  the  Constable  next,  the 
Marshal  third,  the  Lord  Admiral  the  fourth,  the  Grand  Master  or  Lord 
Steward  the  fifthi  and  the  King's  Chamberlain  the  sixth."  The  lord 
high  steward  of  England  is  not  mentioned  in  the  Act  for  the  placing 
of  the  Lords,  "  because  it  was  intended,"  Lord  Chief  Justice  Coke  says, 
"  that  when  the  use  of  him  should  be  necessary  he  should  not  endore 
longer  than  hac  vice  "  {Inst,  iv.,  77).  But  it  may  be  noted  that,  when 
his  office  is  called  out  of  abeyance  for  coronations  or  trials  by  the 
House  of  Lords,  the  lord  high  steward  is  the  greatest  of  all  the  great 
officers  of  state  in  England.  The  office  of  lord  great  chamberlain  of 
England  is  hereditary,  and  is  held  jointly  during  alternate  reigns  by 
the  heads  of  the  houses  of  Willoughby  de  Eresby  and  Cholmondeley 
as  representing  co-heiresses  of  the  Berties,  dukes  of  Ancaster,  who  de- 
rived it  from  an  heiress  of  the  De  Veres,  earls  of  Oxford,  in  whose  line 
it  had  descended  from  the  reign  of  Henry  I.  By  a  private  Act,  1  Geo. 
I.  c.  3,  passed  previous  to  the  advancement  of  Robert  Bertie,  marqnesa 
of  Lindsey,  to  the  dukedom  of  Ancaster  in  1715,  it  was  provided  that 
the  tenure  of  the  great  chamberlainship  should  not  give  him  and  his 
heirs  precedence  of  all  other  dukes  except  when  in  the  immediate  dis- 
charge of  the  functions  of  the  office ;  and  Sir  Bernard  Burke  still 
restricts  the  precedence  of  the  lord  great  chamberlain  to  him  "when 
in  actual  performance  of  official  duty"  {Book  of  Precedence,  p.  10). 
But,  as  Sir  Charles  Young  justly  contends,  "the  limitations  of  thi< 
statute  (1  Geo.  I.  c.  3)  failed  on  the  death  of  the  last  Duke  of  Ancaster 
in  1809  [he  should  have  said  "the  last  duke  of  Ancaster,  who  held 
the  great  chamberlainship  in  1779"],  when  the  precedence  of  the 
office  of  Great  Chamberlain  fell  under  the  operation  of  the  Slst  of 
Henry  VIII."  {Order  of  Precedence,  p.  20).  The  office  of  lord 
high  constable  of  England  is  called  out  of  abeyance  for  and  pending 
coronations  only.  The  office  of  earl  marshal  is  hereditary  in  the 
Howards,  dukes  of  Norfolk,  premier  dukes  aud,  as  earls  of  Arundel, 
premier  earls  of  England,  under  a  grant  in  special  tail  male  from 
Charles  II.  in  1672.  The  office  of  lord  high  admiral,  like  the  office 
of  lord  high  treasurer,  is  practically  extinct  as  a  dignity.  Since  the 
reign  of  Queen  Anne  there  has  been  only  one  lord  high  admiral, 
namely,  William,  duke  of  Clarence,  afterwards  William  IV.,  for  a 
few  months  in  the  Canning  administration  of  1827.  The  office  h 
executed  by  commission,  the  lords  of  the  admiralty  being  as  destitute 
of  any  official  precedence  as  the  lords  of  the  treasury,  although  the 
first  lord  of  the  admiralty  is  invariably  a  leading  cabinet  minister.  The 
lord  steward  and  the  lord  chamberlain  of  the  household  are  alwap 
peers,  and  have  seldom  been  under  the  degree  of  earls.  We  may  here 
remark  that  both  the  Scottish  and  Irish  Acts  of  Union  make  no  reference 
to  the  precedence  of  the  great  officers  of  state  of  Scotland  and  Ireland. 
Not  to  mention  the  prince  of  Wales,  who  is  by  birth  steward  of  Scot- 
land, the  earl  of  Shrewsbury  is  hereditary  great  seneschal  of  Ireland, 
and  the  earl  of  Errol  is  hereditary  lord  high  constable  of  Scotland  ; 
but  what  places  they  are  entitled  to  in  the  scale  of  general  precedence 
is  altogether  doubtful  and  uncertain.  In  Ireland  the  great  seneschal 
ranks  after  the  lord  chancellor  if  he  is  a  commoner,  and  after  the 
archbishop  of  Dublin  if  the  lord  chancellor  is  a  peer,  and  in  both 
cases  before  dukes  ("Order  of  Precedence,"  Dublin  Qazette,  8d  June 
1843).  Again,  on  George  IV. 's  visit  to  Edinburgh  in  1821  the  lord 
high  constable  had  place  as  the  first  subject  in  Scotland  immediately 
after  the  members  of  the  royal  family.  At  every  coronation  from  thnl 
of  George  III.  to  that  of  Queen  Victoria,  the  lord  high  constable  of 
Scotland  has  been  placed  next  to  the  earl  marshal  of  England,  and, 
although  DO  rank  ias  been  assigned  on  these  occasions  to  the  hereditary 
great  seneschal  of  Ireland,  the  lord  high  constable  of  Ireland  appointed 
for  the  ceremony  has  been  at  all  or  most  of  them  placed  next  to  the 
lord  high  constable  of  Scotland.  It  is  worthy  o£  notice,  however, 
that  Sir  George  Mackenzie,  WTiting  when  lord  advocate  of  Scotland 
in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  says  that  "the  Constable  and  Marischal 
take  not  place  as  Officers  of  the  Cro^vn  but  according  to  their  creaii  -u 
as  Earls,"  and  he  moreover  expresses  the  opinion  that  "it  seems  very 
strange  that  these  who  ride  upon  the  King's  right  and  left  hand  when 
he  returns  from  his  Parliaments  and  who  guard  the  Parliament  itself, 
and  the  Honours,  should  have  no  precedency  by  their  offices'"  {Obser- 
vations, &c. ,  p.  25,  in  Guillim's  Display  of  Heraldry,  p.  461  «;. ;  but 
see  also  Wood-Douglas,  Peerage  of  ScoUand,  vol  L  p.  557). 

'  Both  Sir  Charles  Young  and  Sir  Bernard  Biirko  place  "Dukes  of 
the  Blood  Royal "  before  dukes,  their  eldest  sons  before  marquesses, 
and  their  younger  sons  before  marquesses'  eldest  sons.  In  the  "Ancient 
Tables  of  Precedence,"  which  we  have  already  cited,  dukes  of  the  blood 
royal  are  always  ranked  before  other  dukes,  and  in  most  of  them  their 
eldest  sons  and  in  some  of  them  their  younger  sons  are  placed  in  a 
corresponding  order  of  precedence.  But  in  this  connexion  the  word* 
of  the  Act  for  the  placing  of  the  Lords  are  perfectly  plain  and  unam- 
biguous :  "All  Dukes  not  afoiementioned,"  i.e.,  all  except  only  such 


PRECEDJiNCE 


663 


^;/jsses;  f21)  dukes'  eldest  sons;*  (22)  earls;  (23)  mar- 
quesses' eldest  sons ;  (24)  dukes'  younger  sons ;  (25)  vis- 
counts ;  (26)  earls'  eldest  sous ;  (27)  marquesses'  younger 
sons;  (28)  bishops;  (29)  barons;^  (30)  speaker  of  the 
House  of  Commons;  (31)  commissioners  of  the  great  seal;^ 
(32)  treasurer  of  the  household ;  (33)  comptroller  of  the 
household;  (34:^  master  of  the  horse;  (35)  vice-chamber- 
lain of  the  household;  (36)  secretaries  of  state;*  (37) 

a3  shall  happeu  to  be  the  king's  son,  the  king's  brother,  the  king's 
uncle,  the  king's  nephew,  or  the  king's  brother's  or  sister's  son, 
"Marquesses,  Earls,  Viscounts,  and  Barons,  not  having  any  of  the 
offices  afoKsaid,  shall  sit  and  be  placed  after  their  ancienty  as  it  hath 
been  accustomed. "  As  Lord  Chief  Justice  Coke  and  Mr  Justice  Black- 
stone  observe,  the  degrees  of  consanguinity  with  the  sovereign  to  which 
precedence  is  given  by  31  Hen.  VIII.  c.  10  are  the  same  as  tho.se 
within  which  it  was  made  high  treason  by  28  Hen.  VIII.  c.  18  for  any 
man  to  contract  marriage  mthout  the  consent  of  the.  king.  Queen 
Victoria,  by  letters  patent  under  the  great  seal  in  1865,  ordained 
that,  "  besides  the  children  of  Sovereigns  of  these  realms,  the  children 
of  the  sons  of  any  of  the '  Sovereigns  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland 
shall  have  and  at  all  times  hold  and  enjoy  the  style  or  attribute  of 
'  Royal  Highness '  with  their  titular  dignity  of  Prince  or  Prinee-ss  pre- 
fixed to  their  respective  Christian  names,  or  with  their  other  titles  of 
ionour."  But,  notwithstanding  this,  their  rank  and  place  are  still 
governed  by  the  Act  for  the  placing  of  the  Lords.  Thus  the  duke  of 
Cambridge,  although  he  is,  as  the  son  of  a  son  of  George  III.,  pro- 
perly designated  "  lioyal  Highness  "  under  the  letters  patent  of  1865, 
has  no  precedence  as  the  first  cousin  of  the  sovereign  under  the  statute 
of  1539.  In  the  same  way  the  duke  of  Cumberland  has  no  precedence 
as  the  first  cousin  once  removed  of  Queen  Victoria,  and  being  the 
grandsouonlyof  asonof  George  III.  would  not  bea  "Royal  Highness" 
at  all  if  his  father  had  not  been,  like  liis  grandfather,  king  of  Hanover. 
In  Oarter's  Roll  of  the  Lords  Spiritual  and  Temporal,  the  oflicial  list 
of  the  House  of  Lords,  the  duke  of  Cambridge  is  entered  before  the 
archbishop  of  Canterbury,  instead  of  in  tlie  precedence  of  his  dukedom 
after  the  duke  of  Leinster,  \yhile  the  duke  of  Cumberland  is  entered 
in  the  precedence  of  his  dukedom  after  the  duke  of  Northumbeilaud. 
By  the  etiquette  of  society,  however,  both  of  them  are  regarded  and 
'  treated  as  royal  dukes,  and  even  in  parliament  they  are  always  alluded 
to  not  as  "  noble "  but  as  "illustrious."  Under  the  combined  opera- 
tion of  the  Act  for. the  placing  of  the  Lords  and  the  Acts  of  Union 
with  Scotland  (art.  23)  and  with  Ireland  (art.  4),  peers  of  the  same 
degrees,  as  dukes,  marquesses,  earls,  viscounts,  and  barons,  severally, 
have  precedente  according  to  priority  in  the  creation  of  their  respective 
peerages.  But  peerages  of  England  created  before  1707  precede  peer- 
ages of  Scotland  created  before  1707,  peerages  of  Great  Britain  created 
between  1707  and  1801  precede  peerages  of  Ireland  created  before 
1801,  and  peerages  of  Ireland  created  before  1801  precede  peerages  of 
the  United  Kingdom  and  of  Ireland  created  after  1801,  which  t.iko 
precedence  in  common.  The  relativo  precedence  of  the  members  of 
the  House  of  Lords,  including  the  representative  peers  of  Scotland  and 
Ireland,  is  officially  set  forth  in  Oarter's  Roll,  which  is  prepared  by 
the  Garter  king  of  arms  at  the  commencement  of  each  session  of 
parliament,  tliat  of  the  Scottish  peers  generally  in  the  Union  Roll, 
ind  that  of  the  Irish  peers  generally  in  Ulster^s  Roll,  a  record  which 
is  under  the  charge  of  and  is  periodically  corrected  by  the  Ulster  king 
of  arms.  The  Union  Roll  is  founded  on  the  "Decreet  of  Ranking" 
pronounced  and  promulgated  by  a  royal  commission  in  1G06,  which, 
in  the  words  of  an  eminent  authority  in  such  matters,  "was  adopted 
at  once  as  the  roll  of  the  peers  in  Parliament,  convention,  and  all 
public  meetings,  and  continued  to  bo  called  uninterruptedly  with  such 
alterations  upon  it  as  judgments  of  the  Court  of  Session  upon  appeal 
iu  modification  of  the  precedency  of  certain  peers  rendered  necessary, 
with  the  omission  of  such  dignities  as  became  extinct  and  with  the 
addition  from  time  to  time  of  newly  created  peerages — down  to  the 
last  sitting  of  the  Scottish  Parliament  on  the  1st  May  1707"  {The 
Earldom  of  Mar,  &c.,  by  the  call  of  Crawford  (25th)  and  Balcarres 
(8th),  vol.  ii.  p.  16).  As  the  crown  was  precluded  by  the  Act  of 
Union  fi-om  creating  peerages  of  Scotland  after  the  Union,  all  Scottish 
peers  in  their  several  degrees  have  rank  and  place  before  all  peers  of 
Great  Britain,  Ireland,  and  the  United  Kingdom. 

*  Eldest  sons  of  peers  of  any  given  degree  are  of  the  some  rank  as, 
b\it  are  to  be  placed  immediately  after,  peers  of  the  first  degree  under 
that  of  their  fathers  ;  and  the  younger  sons  of  peers  of  any  given 
degree  are  of  the  same  rank,  but  are  to  be  placed  inlmediately  after 
peers  of  the  second  degree  and  tho  oldest  sons  of  peers  of  the  first 
degree  under  that  of  their  fathers. 

"  Secretaries  of  state,  if  they  are  barons,  precede  all  other  barons 
under  31  Hen.  VIIL  c.  10.  But  if  they  are  of  any  higher  degree  their 
rank  is  not  influenced  by  their  official  position.         » 

'  Under  1  Will,  and  Mary  c.  21,  bciug  the  only  commissioners  for 
the  execution  of  any  office  who  have  precedence  assigned  to  them. 

*  The  officers  of  the  household  who,  under  Henry  VIII. 's  warrant 
of  1640,  precede  tho  secretaries  of  state  have  been  for  a  long  time 


viscounts'  eldest  eons ;  (33)  earls'  younger  sons ;  ^39) 
barons'  eldest  sons;  (40)  knights  of  the  Garter;*  (41) 
privy  coimcillors ; ^  (42)  chancellor  of  the  exchequer; 
(43)  chancellor  of  the  duchy  of  Lancaster ;  (44)  lord  chief 
justice  of  England ;  (45)  master  of  the  rolls ;  (46)  lords 
justices  of  appeal;'  (47)  judges  of  the  High  Court  of 
Justice;^  (48)  knights  bannerets  made  by  the  sovereign  in 
person;  (19)  viscounts'  younger  sons;  (50)  barons'  younger 
sons;  (51)  baronets;'  (52)  knights  bannerets  not  made 
by  the  sovereign  in  person ;  (53)  knights  of  the  first  class 
of  the  Bath,  the  Star  of  India,  and  St  Michael  and  St 
George ;!"  (54)  knights  of  the  second  class  of  the  Bath, 
the  Star  of  India,  and  St  Michael  and  St  George ;  i'  (55) 
knights  bachelors  ;  ^'^  (56)  eldest  sons  of  the  younger  sons 
of  peers ;  (57)  baronets'  eldest  sons ;  (58)  knights'  eldest 
sons  ;  (59)  baronets'  younger  sons ;  (60)  knights'  younger 

always  peers  or  the  sons  of  peers,  with  personal  rank  higher,  and 
usually  far  higher,  than  their  official  rank.  The  practical  result  is, 
seeing  also  that  the  great  seal  is  only  very  rarely  indeed  in  commission, 
that  the  secretaries  of  state,  when  they  are  commoners  whose  personal 
precedence  is  below  a  baron's,  have  official  precedence  immediately 
after  the  speaker  of  tho  House  of  Commons.  Tho  principal  secretaries, 
for  so  they  are  all  designated,  are  officially  equal  to  one  another  in 
dignity,  and  ue  placed  among  themselves  according  to  .seniority  of 
appointment. 

'  During  more  than  two  centuries  only  one  commoner  has  been 
indebted  for  his  precedence  to  bis  election  into  the  order,  and  that 
was  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  tho  minister,  who  at  tho  coronation  of  Goorgo 
II.  in  1727  was  placed  as  a  knight  of  the  Garter  immediately  before 
privy  councillors.  The  proper  precedence  of  both  knights  of  the 
Thistle  and  linights  of  St  Patrick  is  undecided. 

*  Privy  councillors  of  Great  Britain  and  of  Ireland  take  precedence 
in  common  according  to  priority  of  admission.  The  chancellors  of  the 
exchequer  and  of  the  duchy  of  Lancaster,  the  lord  chief  justice  of 
England,  the  master  of  tho  rolls,  and  the  lords' justices  of  appeiJ  are 
always  members  of  the  privy  council,  and  have  rank  and  place  as  privy 
councillors,  if  they  are  not  also  peers. 

'  The  lords  justices  of  appeal  have  precedence  among  tljemselves 
according  to  seniority  of  appointment.  Until  recently  they  were  pre- 
ceded by  the  lord  chief  justice  of  the  Common  PlcaS  and  the  lord  chief 
baron  of  the  Exchequer  (divisions  of  tho  High  Court  of  Justice).  But 
under  existing  arrangements  these  offices  have  fallen  into  abeyance, 
although  they  have  flot  been  formally  abolished.  The  vice-chancellors 
<ised  to  follow  the  lords  justices  of  appeal ;  but,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  there  is  still  one  vice-chancellor  remaining,  the  office  of  vice- 
chancellor  is  practically  extinct  and  will  altogether  disappear  on  his 
decease.  In  Ireland  all  these  offices  are  in  existence  ;  but  they  have 
no  precedence  allotted  to  them  in  England ;  iis  the  judges  holding 
them  are  invariably  privy  councillors,  however,  they  are  ranked 
accordingly.  And  it  is  the  same  with  regard  to  the  lord  justice- 
general  and  tho  lord  justice-clerk  in  Scotland. 

*  The  judges  of  all  the  divisions  of  the  High  Court  of  Justice  are 
ranked  together  according  to  seniority  of  appointment.  Neither  the 
senators  of  the  College  of  Justice  in  Scotland  nor  the  judges  of  the 
various  divisions  of  the  High  Court  in  Ireland  have  any  precedence  in 
England.  Tho  precedence  of  the  Scottish  judges  am9ng  themselves 
is  settled  by  a  royal  warrant  of  1729,  which  is  printed  in  full  by  Nisbet 
iu  his  System  of  Heraldry  (vol.  iL  p.  277).  Tlio  precedence  of  the  Irish 
judges  among  themselves  is  the  same  as  the  precedence  of  the  English 
judges  among  themselves  used  to  bo  before  the  ofiicca  of  chief  justice  of 
the  Common  Pleas  and  chief  baron  of  the  Exchequer  were  suspended. 

*  It  is  a  question  whether  baronets  ought  or  ought  not  to  have  pre- 
cedence, like  peers,  according  as  they  aro  of  England,  Scotland,  Great 
Britain,  Ireland,  or  the  United  Kingdom.  Baronets  are  not  referred  to 
in  either  the  Scottish  or  the  Irish  Act  of  Union  ;  and  Sir  Bernard 
Burke  contends  that,  since  the  Acts  of  Union  aro  silent  with  regard  to 
them,  they  are  still  entitled  to  whatever  precedence  was  originally 
conferred  on  them.  Ho  therefore  places  the  whole  body  of  tho  baronets 
together  iu  tho  order  merely  of  the  dates  of  their  several  creations, 
and  in  this  he  appears  to  us  to  have  both  law  and  rea-son  on  his  side. 

"  These  knights  consist  of  grand  crosses  of  the  first,  grand  com- 
manders of  the  second,  and  grand  crosses  of  the  thirtl  order,  and  have 
precedence  in  their  respective  orders  according  to  seniority  of  creation. 
By  the  statutes  of  tho  order  of  the  Bath  as  revi86d  in  1847  it  is 
ordained  that  the  knights  grond  crosses  aro  to  bo  placed  "next  to  and 
immediately  after  baronets,"  thus  superseding  knights  bannerets  not 
created  by  the  sovereign  iii  person. 

"  Knights  commanders  of  all  thr<e  orders  are  placed  !&  oacb  order 
according  to  seniority  of  creation. 

>"  Kuights  bochelors  are  ranked  together  according  to  seniority  of 
creation,  whether  they  are  made  by  the  sovereign  or  the  lord  lieutenant 
of  Ireland. 


664 


PRECEDENCE 


sons;'  (61)  companions  of  the  Bath,  the  Star  of  India, 
St  Michael  and  St  George,  and  the  Indian  Empire  ;  ^  (62) 
esquires;*  (63)  gentlemen.* 


'  The  sons  of  all  persons,  when  any  specified  rank  is  assigned^  to 
theui,  are  placed  in  the  precedence  of  their  fathers.  Eldest  sons  of  the 
younger  sons  of  peers  were  ranked  before  the  eldest  sons  of  knights 
by  order  of  the  earl  marshal,  18th  March  1615,  and  before  the  eldest 
sons  of  baronets  by  order  of  the  earl  marshal,  6th  April  1677.  But 
no  precedence  has  been  given  to  the  younger  sons  of  the  younger  sons 
of  peers,  although  precedence  is  given  to  the  younger  as  well  as  the 
eldest  sons  of  baronets  and  knights  by  James  I.'s  decree  of  1616. 
Moreover,  no  precedence  has  been  given  to  either  the  eldest  or  the 
younger  sons  of  the  eldest  sons  of  peers.  But  in  jjractice  this  omis- 
sion is  generally  disregarded,  and  the  children  of  the  eldest  sons  of 
dukes,  marquesses,  and  earls,  at  all  events,  are  accorded  the  same 
rank  and  titles  which  they  would  have  if  their  fathers  were  actual  in- 
stead of  quasi  peers  of  the  degree  next  under  that  of  their  grandfathers. 
Sir  Charles  Young  says  that  "by  decision  (Chap.  Coll.  Arms  of  1680) 
if  the  eldest  son  of  an  Earl  died  in  his  father's  lifetime  leaving  a  son 
and  heir,  such  son  and  heir  during  the  life  of  the  Earl  his  grandfather 
is  entitled  to  the  same  place  and  precedence  as  was  due  to  his  father  : 
so  had  the  father  been  summoned  to  Parliament  as  the  eldest  son  of 
a  peer  the  grandson  would  succeed  to  the  dignity  even  during  the 
grandfather's  lifetime  "  (Order  of  Precedence,  p.  27).  And,  of  course, 
what  applies  to  the  grandson  and  heir  of  an  earl  applies  equally  to 
the  grandsons  and  heirs  of  dukes  and  marquesses.  But  the  grandsons 
and  heirs  of  viscouuts  and  barons  are  differently  situated,  and  have 
neither  honorary  additions  to  their  names  nor  any  ascertained  place 
and  precedence  even  by  the  etiquette  of  society. 

^  Companions  are  members  of  the  third  class  of  the  first  three 
orders  and  the  only  members  of  the  fourth  order,  except  the  sovereign 
and  the  grand  master.  Sir  Charles  Young  and  Sir  Bernard  Burke 
concur  in  placing  the  companions  of  these  orders  before  the  eldest 
sons  of  the  younger  sdns  of  peers,  on  the  ground  that  imder  their 
statutes  they  are  entitled  to  precede  "all  Esquires  of  the  Realm." 
But  the  sons  of  peers  themselves — the  eldest  ks  well  as  the  younger 
— are  merely  esquires,  and  are  ranked  before,  and  not  among,  other 
esquires  because  they  have  a  particular  precedence  of  their  own  assigned 
to  them.  Similarly  the  eldest  sons  of  the  younger  sons  of  peers 
and  the  eldest  sons  of  baronets  and  of  knights  who  are  also  esquires, 
and  likewise  the  younger  sons  of  baronets  and  of  knights  who  are  not 
esquires,  have  a  particular  piecedence  of  their  own  assigned  to  them. 
All  of  them  are  placed  before  esquires  as  a  specific  grade  in  the  scale 
of  general  precedence,  and  it  seems  clear  enough  that  it  is  before 
esquires  considered  a3  a  specific  grade  that  the  companions  of  the  orders 
ought  to  be  placed  and  not  before  any  other  persons  who,  whether  they 
are  or  are  not  esquires,  have  a  definite  and  settled  rank  which  is 
superior  to  that  specific  grade  in  the  scale  of  general  precedence. 

■*  It  appears  to  be  admitted  on  all  hands  that  the  following  persons 
are  esquires  and  ought  to  be  so  described  in  all  legal  documents  and 
processes  :  first,  the  eldest  sous  of  peers  in  the  lifetime  of  their  fathers, 
and  the  jounger  sons  of  peers  both  in  and  after  the  lifetime  of  their 
fathers  ;  secondly,  the  eldest  sons  of  the  younger  sons  of  peers  and 
Hieir  eldest  sons  in  perpetual  succession,  and  the  eldest  sons  of  baronets 
and  knights ;  thirdly,  esquires  created  with  or  without  the  grant  of 
armorial  bearings  by  the  sovereign  ;  fourthly,  justices  of  the  peace, 
banisters  at  law,  and  mayors  of  corporations  ;  and  fifthly,  those  who 
ore  styled  esquires  in  patents,  commissions,  or  appointments  to  offices 
under  the  crown  in  the  state,  the  household,  the  army"  or  navy,  and 
elsewhere.  Sir  Bernard  Burke  accords  precedence  to  Serjeants  at  law 
and  masters  in  lunacy,  not  only  before  esquires  as  such  but  also  before 
tiie  companions  of  the  orders  of  koig"hthood.  It  is,  however,  enough  to 
observe  with  regai-d  to  the  first,  since  no  more  of  them  are  to  be  created, 
that,  in  spite  of  tlie  extravagant  pretensions  which  have  been  frequently 
urged  by  them  and  on  tlieir  behalf,  "they  have  not  in  the  general 
scale,"  as  Sir  Charles  Young  says,  "any  precedence,  and  when  under 
the  degree  of  a  Knight  rank  only  as  Esquires,"  and  with  regard 
to  the  second  that  the  statute  8  and  9  Vict.  c.  100,  on  which  the 
Ulster  king  of  arms  bases  their  claims,  simply  provides  that  they 
"shall  take  the  same  rank  and  precedence  as  the  masters  in  ordinary 
of  the  High  Court  of  Chancery,"  who  are  now  extinct,  "apparently," 
to  recur  to  Sir  Charles  Young,  "assuming  the  rank  of  the  masters 
without  defining  it."  "The  masters,  however,"  he  adds,  "as  such 
have  not  a  settled  place  in  the  order  of  general  precedency  emanating 
from  any  authority  by  statute  or  otherwise"  (Order  of  Precedence,  p. 
71).  Sir  William  Blackstone  says  that  before  esquires  "the  Heralds 
rank  all  Colonels,  Serjeants  at  Law,  and  Doctors  in  the  three  learued 
professions  "  (CoiiDncntarUs,  i.  c.  12).  But  the  only  foundation  for 
this  statenjcnt  seems  to  be  a  passage  in  Guillim,  which  is  obviously 
without  any  authority. 

*  The  heralds  and  lawyers  are  agreed  that  gentlemen  are  those  who, 
by  inheritance  or  grant  from  the  crown,  are  entitled  to  bear  coat 
armour  (see  Coke,  Inst,  iv.,  c.  77;  Blackstone,  Comm.,  i.  ch.  12; 
Selden,  Titles  of  Honor,  pt.  ii.  ch.  8;  Guillim.  Display  of  Heraldry, 
pt  u.  ch.  26). 


2. — General  Precedence  of  Women. 
The  queen; 5  (1)  princess  of  Wales;  (2)  daughters  of 
the  sovereign  ;  (3)  wives  of  the  sovereign's  younger  sons  • 
(4)  granddaughters  of  the  sovereign;  (5)  wives  of  the 
sovereign's  grandsons ;  (6)  sisters  of  the  sovereign  ;  (7) 
wives  of  the  sovereign's  brothers ;  (8)  aunts  of  the  sove- 
reign ;  (9)  wives  of  the  sovereign's  uncles;  (10)  nieces  of 
the  sovereign;  (11)  wives  of  the  sovereign's  nephews;* 
(12)  duchesses;^  (13)  marchionesses;  (14)  wives  of  the 
eldest  sons  of  dukes;  (15)  dukes'  daughters  ;8  (16) 
countesses;  (17)  wives  of  the  eldest  sons  of  marquesses; 
(18)  marquesses'  daughters;  (19)  wives  of  the  younger 
sons  of  dukes ;  (20)  viscountesses ;  (21)  wives  of  the  eldest 
sons  of  earls;  (22)  earls'  daughters;  (23)  wives  of  the 
younger  sons  of  marquesses ;  (24)  baronesses  ;  (25)  wives 
of  the  eldest  sons  of  viscounts ;  (26)  viscounts'  daughters  • 
(27)  wives  of  the  younger  sons  of  earls;  (28)  wives  of  the 
eldest  sons  of  barons  ;  (29)  barons'  daughters  ;  (30]  aaids 
of  honour  to  the  queen  ;»  (31)  wives  of  kriights  of  the 
Garter;  (32)  wives  of  knights  bannerets  made  by  the 
sovereign  in  person;  (33)  wives  of  the  younger  sons  of 
viscounts ;  (34)  wives  of  the  younger  sons  of  barons ;  (35) 
baronets'  wives ;  (36)  wives  of  knights  bannerets  not  made 
by  the  sovereign  in  person  ;  (37)  wives  of  knights  grand 
crosses  of  the  Bath,  grand  commanders  of  the  Star  of  India, 
and  grand  crosses  of  St  Michael  and  St  George  ;  (38)  wives 
of  knights  commanders  of  the  Bath,  the  Star  of  India,  and 
St  Michael  and  St  George  ;  (39)  knights  bachelors'  wives  ; 

(40)  wives  of  the  eldest  sons  of  the  younger  sons  of  peers ; 

(41)  daughters  of  the  younger  sons  of  peers;  (42)  wives 
of  the  eldest  sons  of  baronets ;  (43)  baronets'  daughters  ; 
(44)  wives  of  the  eldest  sons  of  knights;  (45)  knights' 
daughters;  (46)  wives  of  the  younger  sons  of  baronets; 
(47)  wives  of  the  younger  sons  of  knights  ; '"  (48)  wivea 
of  companions  of  the  Bath,  the  Star  of  India,  St  Michael 
and  St  George,  and  the  Indian  Empire;  (49)  wives  of 
esquires  ; ''  (50)  gentlewomen.'- 


'  Tlie  queen-consort  is  the  second  personage  in  the  realm,  and  hae 
precedence  of  the  queen-dowager.  But  the  husband  of  a  reigning  queen 
has  no  rank  or  place  except  such  as  is  specially  accorded  to  him  by 
the  sovereign. 

*  There  is  no  Act  of  parliament  or  ordinance  of  the  cro\vn  regulating 
the  precedence  of  the  female  membei-s  of  the  royal  family.  But  the 
above  is  the  gradation  which  appears  to  have  become  established  among 
them,  and  follows  the  analogy  supplied  by  the  Act  for  the  placing 
of  the  Lords  in  the  case  of  their  husb,ands  and  brothers. 

'  Peeresses  in  their  own  right  and  peeresses  by  marriage  are  ranked 
together,  the  first  in  their  own  jjitjcedence  and  the  second  in  the  pre- 
cedence of  their  husbands. 

^  Among  the  daughters  of  peers  there  is  no  distinction  between  the 
eldest  and  the  younger  as  there  is  among  the  sons  of  peers.  Their 
precedence  is  immediately  after  the  wives  of  their  eldest  brothers,  and 
several  degrees  above  the  wives  of  their  younger  brothers.  They  are 
placed  among  themselves  in  the  precedence  of  their  fathers.  But  the 
daughter  of  the  premier  duke  or  baron  ranks  after  the  wife  of  the  eldest 
son  of  the  junior  duke  or  baron. 

'  Maids  of  honour  to  the  queen  are  the  only  women  who  have  any 
official  precedence.  They  have  the  style  or  title  of  honourable,  and 
are  placed  immediately  after  barons'  daughters  by  Sir  Bernard  Burke, 
the  rank  which  is  accorded  to  them  by  the  etiquette  of  society.  But 
Sir  Charles  Young  does  not  assign  any  precedence  to  them,  and  we  do 
not  know  on  what  authority  the  Ulster  king  of  arms  does  so,  although 
he  is  by  no  means  singular  in  the  course  he  has  taken. 

'"  The  wives  of  baronets  and  knights,  the  wives  of  the  eldest  sons 
and  the  daughters  of  the  younger  sous  of  peers,  and  the  wives  of  the 
sons  and  the  daughters-  of  baronets  and  knights  are  all  placed  sever- 
ally in  the  precedence  of  their  respective  husbands,  husbands'  fathers, 
and  fathers. 

"  "  Esquire  "  and  "  gentleman  "  are  not  names  of  "  dignity  "  but  names 
of  "  worship,"  and  esquires  and  gentlemen  do  not.  in  Strictness,  convey 
or  transmit  any  precedence  to  their  wives  or  children  (see  Coke,  InM. 
ii.,  "Of  Additions,"  p.  667). 

'-  "  And  getierosus  and  generosa  are  good  additions  :  auT  if  a  gentle- 
woman be  named  Spinster  in  any  original  writ,  i.e.,  appeal  or  indict- 
ment, she  may  abate  and  quash  the  same,  for  she  hath  as  good  right  to 
that  addition  as  Baroness,  Viscountess,  Marchioness,  or  Duchess  have 
to  theirs"  (Coke,  Insl.  ii..  " Of  Additions. "  p.  668). 


PRECEDENCE 


665 


Attention  to  the  foregoing  tables  will  show  that  general 
precedeijce  is  of  different  kinds  as  well  as  of  several  degrees. 
It  is  first  either  personal  or  official,  and  secondly  either 
bubstantiTC  or  derivative.     Personal  precedence  belongs  to 
the  royal  family,  the  peerage,  and  certain  specified  classes 
of  the  commonalty.     Official  precedence  belongs  to  such 
of  the  dignitaries  of  the  church  and  such  of  the  ministers 
of  state  and  the  household  as  have  had  rank  and  place 
accorded  to  them   by  parliament  or  the  crown,   to  the 
speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons,  and  to  the  members 
of  the  privy  council  and  the  judicature.     Substantive  pre- 
cedence, which  may  be  either  personal  or  official,  belongs 
to  all  those  whose  rank  tand  place  are  enjoyed  by  thera 
independently  of  their  connexion  with  anybody  else,  as  by 
the  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  the  lord  high  chancellor  or 
the  lord  great  chamberlain,  peers  and  peeresses,  baronets, 
knights,  and  some  esquires.    Derivative  precedence,  which 
can  only  be  personal,  belongs  to  all  those  whose  rank  and 
place  are  determined  by  their  consanguinity  \vith  or  affinity 
to  somebody  else,  as  the  lineal  and  collateral  relations  of 
the  sovereign,  the  sons,  daughters,  and  daughters-in-law 
of  peers  and  peeresses  in  their  own  right,  and  the  wives, 
sons,  daughters,  and  daughters-in-law  of  baronets,  knights, 
and  some  esquires.     It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that 
the  precedence  of  the  sovereign   is  at  once  official  and 
personal,  and  that  the  precedence  of  peeresses  by  marriage 
is  at  once  derivative  and  substantive.     la  the  case  of  the 
sovereign  it  is  his  or  her  actual  tenure  of  the  office  of  king 
or  queen  which  regulates  the  rank  and  place  of  the  various 
members  of  the  royal  family,  and  in  the  case  of  peeresses 
by  marriage,  although  their  rank  and  place  are  derivative 
in  origin,  yet  they  are  substantive  in  continuance,  since 
during  coverture  and  widowhood  peeresses  by  marriage 
.  are  as  much  peeresses  as  peeresses  in  their  own  right,  and 
their  legal  and  political  status  is  precisely  the  same  as  if 
they  had  acquired  it  by  creation  or  inheritance. 

Bearing  the  abovedefinitions  and  explanations  inmind,tho 
following  canons  or  rules  may  be  found  practically  iiseful. 

r.  AnylicJy  who  ■.'!  entitled  to  both  personal  and  oflicial  preced- 
ence is  to  be  placed  according  to  that  wliich  implies  the  higher 
rank.  If,  for  example,  a  baron  and  a  baronet  are  both  privy  coun- 
cillors, the  precedence  of  the  first  is  that  of  a  baron  and  the  pre- 
cedence of  tno  second  is  that  of  a  privy  councillor.  And  similarly, 
except  as  hereafter  stated,  with  respect  to  the  holders  of  two  or 
more  personal  or  two  or  more  official  dignities. 

2.vSave  in  the  case  of  the  sovereign,  official  rank  can  never  supply 
the  foundation  for  derivative  rank.  Heuce  the  ofiicial  preced- 
ence of  a  husband  or  father  affords  no  indication  of  the  personal 
precedence  of  his  wife  or  children.  The  wives  and  children,  for 
example,  of  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  the  lord  high  chancellor, 
or  the  speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons  do  not  participate  in  their 
official  rank. but  only  in  their  personal  rank  whatever  it  may  be. 

3.  Among  subjects  men  alono  can  convey  derivative  rank,  except 
in  the  case  of  tho  daughters  and  sisters  of  the  sovereign,  or  of  peer- 
esses in  their  own  right.  But  no  man  can  acquire  any  rank  or  place 
by  marriage.  Tho  sons-in-law  or  brothcrs-in-luw  of  tho  sovereign 
and  the  husbands  of  peeresses  in  their  own  right  have  as  such  no 
precedence  whatever.  And  tho  daughter  and  heiress  of  tho  premier 
duke  of  England,  unless  she  happens  to  bo  also  a  peeress  in  her  own 
right,  does  not  transmit  any  rank  or  place  to  her  children. 

4.  Wifliin  tho  limits  cf  the  peerage  derivative  rank  is  as  a  rulo 
always  merged  in  personal,  ns  distinguished  from  official,  substantive 
rank.  If,  for  example,  tho  younger  son  of  a  duke  is  created  a 
baron  or  inherits  a  barony,  his  precedence  ceases  to  bo  that  of  a 
duke's  younger  son  and  becomes  that  of  a  baron.  But,  where  tho 
eldest  son  of  a  duke,  a  marquess,  or  an  earl  is  summoned  to  tho 
House  of  Lords  iii  a  barony  of  his  father's,  or  succeeds  as  or  is 
iieatcd  a  baron,  he  is  still,  as  before,  "commonly  called"  l)y  sonio 
superior  title  of  peerage,  as  marquess,  carl,  or  viscount,  and  retains 
his  derivative  precedence  on  all  occasions,  except  in  parliament  or 
at  ceremonies  which  ho  attends  in  his  character  as  o  peer.  Tho 
younger  sons  of  all  peers,  however,  who  are  created  or  who  inherit 
peerages — which  thoy  often  do  under  special  limitations — are  every- 
where placed  according  to  their  sulratantivo  rank,  no  matter  how 
inferior  it  may  bo  to  tlicir  derivative  rank.  But  if  the  son  of  a 
<luko  or  a  marquess,  wliether  eldest  or  younger,  or  tho  -chlest  son 
of  an  carl  is  consecrated  a  bishop  his  derivative  rank  is  not  merged 

l<J-24* 


in  his  substantive  rank,  because  it  is  oITicial,  and  his  derivativo 
and  personal  rank  implies  the  higher  precedence.  Again,  the 
daughters  of  dukes,  marquesses,  and  earls  who  become  peeresses 
by  marriage  or  creation,  or  who  inherit  as  peeresses,  are  placed 
according  to  their  substantive  and  not  according  to  their  derivative 
rank,  although  they  may  thereby  be  assigned  a  far  lower  precedeuca 
than  that  to  which  their  birth  entitles  them. 

5.  The  widows  of  peers  and  baronets  have  precedence  immedi- 
ately before  the  wives  or  widows  of  the  next  successors  in  their 
husbands'  dignities.  But  the  sons  and  daughters  of  peers  and 
baronets  have  precedence  immediately  before  the  sons  and  daughters 
of  the  holders  of  the  dignities  to  whom  their  fathers  succeeded.  The 
reason  of  this  is  that  the  first  are  senior  in  the  diguities  and  the 
second  aro  nearer  in  the  line  of  succession  to  them. 

6.  The  widows  of  peers  who  marry  again  either  share  the  pre- 
cedence of  their  second  husbands  or  resume  the  precedence  belong- 
ing to  them  independently  of  their  marriage  with  their  first  husbands. 
Thus,  if  the  daughter  of  a  duke  or  an  esquire  marries  first  an  earl 
and  secondly  a  baron,  although  she  remains  a  peeress,  she  is  placed 
as  a  baroness  instead  of  a  countess.  But  if  either  of  Jhem  should 
marry  a  commoner  as  her  second  husband,  whatever  may  be  his 
rank  or  degree,  she  ceases  to  be  a  peeress.  While,  however,  the 
duke's  daughter,  if  her  second  husband  were  not  the  eldest  son  of 
a  duke,  would  resume  her  precedence  as  the  daughter  of  a  duke, 
the  esquire's  daughter  would  share  the  precedence  of  her  second 
husband,  whether  he  were  a  peer's  son,  a  baronet,  a  knight,  or 
an  esquire.  By  the  etiquette  of  society,  however,  the  widows  of 
peers  who  marry  again  do  not  forfeit  the  titles  and  precedence 
acquired  by  their  marriage  with  their  first  husbands  unless  they 
choose  to  lay  them  aside,  or  unless  their  own  rank  or  the  rank 
of  their  second  husbands  is  equal  or  superior  to  that  of  their  first 
husbands. 

•  7.  The  widows  of  the  eldest  and  younger  sons  of  dukes  and 
marquesses  and  of  the  eldest  sons  of  earls,  and  also  the  widows  of 
baronets  and  knights  who  marry  agjin,  are  permitted  by  the  eti- 
quette of  society  to  keep  the  titles  and  rank  acquired  by  their  first 
marriage  if  their  second  marriage  is  with  a  commoner  whose  pre- 
cedence is  considerably  lower.  But  the  widows  of  the  younger 
sons  of  earls  and  of  the  eldest  and  younger  sons  of  viscounts  and 
barons,  although  their  precedence  is  higher  than  that  of  the  widows 
of  baronets  and  knights,  are  not  allowed  to  retain  it,  under  any 
circumstances,  after  a  second  marriage. 

8.  Marriage  does  not  affect  the  precedence  of  peeresses  in  their 
own  right  unless  their  husbands  are  peers  whose  peerages  are  of  a 
higher  degree,  or,  being  of  the  same  degree,  are  of  more  ancient 
creation  than  their  own.  If,  for  example,  a  baroness  in  her  own 
right  marries  a  viscount  she  is  placed  and  described  as  a  viscountess, 
or  if  she  marries  a  baron  whose  barony  is  older  than  hers  she  is 
placed  in  his  precedence  and  described  by  his  title.  But  if  sho 
marries  a  baron  whose  barony  is  junior  to  hers  she  keeps  her  own 
precedence  and  title. 

9.  The  daughters  of  peers,  of  sons  of  peers,  baronets,  and  knights 
retain  after  marriage  the  precedence  they  derive  from  their  fathers, 
unless  they  raari-y  peers  of  any  rank  or  commoners  of  higher  rank 
than  their  own.  Hence,  for  example,  the  daughter  of  a  duke  who 
man  ies  tho  eldest  son  of  a  marquess  is  placed  as  a  duke's  daughter, 
not  as  tho  wife  of  a  marquess's  eldest  son,  and  tho  daughter  "f  a 
baronet  who  marries  the  younger  son  of  a  knight  is  placed  as  a 
baronet's  daughter  and  not  as  the  wife  of  a  knight's  younger  son. 

10.  What  are  teniied  "titles  of  courtesy"  are  borne  by  all  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  peers  and  peeresses  in  their  own  right,  who 
in  this  connexion  stana  on  exactly  the  same  footing.  'luo  eldest 
sons  of  dukes,  marquesses,  and  earls  are  designated  by  the  names  of 
one  or  other  of  the  inferior  peerages  of  their  fathers,  usually  a  mar- 
quessato  or  an  earldom  in  the  first,  an  earldom  or  a  viscounty  in 
tiio  second,  and  a  viscounty  or  barony  in  the  third  case.  But, 
whatever  it  may  be,  it  is  altogether  without  effect  on  the  rank  and 
place  of  the  bearer,  which  are  those  belonging  to  him  as  tho  eldest 
son  of  his  father.  Tho  younger  sona  of  dukes  and  marqucssct 
are  styled  "  lords "  followed  by  both  their  Christian  names  and 
surnames.  The  younger  sons  of  carls  and  both  tho  eldest  and  tha 
younger  sons  of  viscounts  and  barons  are  described  as  "honourable" 
before  both  their  Christian  names  and  surnames.  The  daughters 
of  dukes,  marquesses,  and  carls  are  styled  "ladies"  before  both 
their  Christian  names  and  surnnmo.'i.  The  daughters  of  viscounts 
and  barons  aro  described  as  "honourable"  before  both  their  Christ- 
ian names  and  surnames.  If  tho  oldest  son  of  a  marquess  or 
an  earl  marries  a  woman  of  rank  equal  or  inferior  to  his  own,  sho 
takes  his  title  and  precedenco  ;  but  if  sho  is  of  suiiciior  rank  sho 
retains,  with  her  own  precedence,  tho  prefix  "lady"  before  her 
Christian  name  followed  by  the  name  of  her  husband's  title  of 
courtesy.  Again,  if  tho  younger  son  of  a  duke  or  a  marouess  marries 
a  woni.iii  of  rank  equal  or  inferior  to  his  own,  sho  is  called  "lady," 
with  bis  Christian  and  surname  following,  and  is  placed  in  nis 
precedence  ;  but,  if  sho  is  of  superior  rank,  she  retains,  with  her 
own  precedence,  the  prefix  "Inily"  before  her  Christian  namo  and 
his  suruamo.     If  tho  daughter  of  a  duke,  a  marquess,  or  an  cail 


666 


PRECEDENCE 


marries  the  younger  son  of  an  earl,  the  eldest  or  younger  son  of  a 
viscount  or  baron,  a  baronet,  a  knight,  or  an  esquire,  fcc,  she  retains, 
with  her  own  precedence,  the  prefix  "lady"  before  her  Christian 
name  and  her  husband's  surname.  If  the  daugliter  of  a  viscount 
marries  the  younger  son  of  an  earl  or  anybody  of  inferior  rank  to 
him,  or  the  daughter  of  a  baron  marries  the  younger  son  of  a 
viscount  or  anybody  of  inferior  rank  to  him,  she  retains  her  own 
precedence  with  the  prefix  "honourable"  before  the  addition  "Mrs" 
and  his  surname  or  Christian  name  and  surname.  But,  if  her  hus- 
band is  a  baronet  or  a  knight,  she  is  called  the  Honourable  Lady 
Smith  or  tho  Honourable  Lady  Jones,  as  the  case  may  "be.  The 
wives  of  the  younger  sons  of  earls  and  of  the  eldest  and  younger 
sons  of  viscounts  and  barons,  if  they  are  of  inferior  rank  to  their 
husbands,  take  their,  precedence  and  are  described  as  the  Honour- 
able Mrs,  with  the  surnames  or  Christian  names  and  surnames  of 
their  husbands  following.  It  was  because  the  judges  were  placed 
by  James  I.  before  the  younger  sons  of  viscounts  and  barons  that 
they  were  accorded  tha  title  of  "honourable,"  and  that  they  are 
designated  as  the  Honourable  Mr  Justice  Hawkins  or  the  Honour- 
able Mr  Justice  Stephen,  instead  of  as  Sir  Henry  Hawkins  or  Sir 
James  Stephen,  which  would  connote  their  inferior  personal  dignity 
of  kniglithood.  But  in  this^ddition  their  wives  do  uot  participate, 
since  it  is  merely  an  official  distinction. 

It  is  manifest  on  even  a.  cursory  examination  of  the 
tables  we  have  given  that,  although  they  embody  the  only 
scheme  of  general  precedence,  whether  for  men  or  for 
women,  which  is  authoritatively  sanctioned  or  recognized, 
they  are  in  many  respects  very  imperfectly  fitted  to  meet 
the  circumstances  and  requirements  of  the  present  day. 
In  both  of  them  the  limits  prescribed  to  the  royal  family 
are  pedantically  and  inconveniently  narrow,  arid  stand  out 
in  striking  contrast  to  the  wide  and  ample  bounds  through 
which  the  operation  of  the  Koyal  Marriage  Act  (12  Geo. 
III.  c.  11)  extends  the  disabilities  but  not  the  privileges 
of  the  sovereign's  kindred.  Otherwise  the  scale  of  general 
precedence  for  women  compares  favourably  enough  with 
the  scale  of  general  precedence  for  men.  If,  indeed,  it 
includes  the  queen's  maids  of  honour  and  the  wives  of  the 
companious  of  the  knightly  orders,  there  certainly  does 
not  seem  to  be  any  good  reason  why  it  should  omit  the 
mistress  of  the  robes  and  the  ladies  of  the  bedchamber, 
or  the  ladies  of  the  royal  order  of  Victoria  and  Albert 
and  the  imperial  order  of  the  Crown  of  India.  But  these 
are  trifling  matters  in  themselves,  and  concern  only  an 
extremely  minute  fraction  of  the  community.  The  scale 
of  general  precedence  for  men  is  now  in  substantially 
the  same  condition  as  that  in  which  it  has  been  for  be- 
tween two  and  three  centuries,  and  the  political,  to  say 
cothing  of  the  social,  arrangements  to  which  it  was  framed 
to  apply  have  in  the  interval  undergone  an  almost  com- 
plute  transformation.  The  consequence  is  that  a  good  deal 
of  it  has  come  down  to  us  in  the  shape  of  a  survival, 
and  has  ceased  to  be  of  any  practical  use  for  the  purpose 
it  was  originally  designed  to  effect.  .  While  it  comprises 
several  official  and  personal  dignities  which  are  virtually 
obsolete  and  extinguished,  it  entirely  omits  the  great 
majority  of  the  members  of  Government  in  its  existing 
form,  and  whole  sections  of  society  on  a  less  exalted  level, 
to  whom  it  is  universally  felt  that  some  rank  and  place  at 
all  events  .^i-e  both  in  public  and  in  private  justly  due. 

As  we  have  already  said,  it  accords  no  precedence  what- 
ever to  the  prime  minister,  whether  as  premier  or  as  first 
lord  of  the  treasury.  In  the  same  way  it  ignores  not  only 
the  first  lord  of  the  admiralty  but  also  the  presidents  of  the 
Board  of  Trade  and  the  Local  Government  Boajd,  the  post- 
master-general, tho  vice-president  of  the  council,  and  all  the 
law  officers  of  the  crcwn.^     And,  when  it  does  confess  the 


•  "There  are  no  doubt  certain  public  ceremonials  of  State,  such 
as  Coronations,  Royal  Public  Funerals,  and  Processions  of  the  Sovereign 
to  Parliament,  Jcc,  wherein  various  public  functionaries  walk  and  have 
for  the  occasion  certain  places  assigned  to  tlieni,  but  which  they  may 
not  at  all  times  find  the  sanje,  as  it  by  no  means  fnllows  that  tliey  are 
always  entitled  to  the  same  place  for  having  been  there  once  :  there 
is  to  a  certain  extent  a  preceilent  furtiislied  thereby,  and  in  some 
cases  tho  uniformity  of  precedence  in  regard  to  one  dasa  over  acotber 


presence  of  any  of  the  sovereign's  principal  ministers,  it 
commonly  places  them  in  positions  which  are  out  of  all 
keeping  with  their  actual  eminence  and  importance.     It 
ranks  the  lord  president  of  the  council  and  the  lord  privy 
seal  before  dukes,  while  it  places  the  chancellor  of  the  ex- 
chequer after  the  younger  sons  of  earls  and  the  eldest  sons 
of  barons,  and  the  secretaries  of  state  after  the  master  of 
the  horse  and  the  vice-chamberlain  of  the  household.     The 
lord  chancellor  still  has  precedence  as  the  first  of  the  great 
officers  of  state,  which  was  allotted  to  him  not  as  what  he 
is,  the  head  of  the  judicature,  but  as  what  he  once  was,  the 
prime  minister  of  the  sovereign  ;  and  the  lord  chief  justice, 
who  is  next  to  him  in  regular  judicial  rank,  as  presiding 
over  the  Common  Law  Courts,  as  he  presides  over  the  Courts 
cf  Equity,  is  placed  after  the  chancellors  of  the  exchequer 
and  of  the  duchy  of  Lancaster,  who  still  have  the  precedence 
which  was  allotted  to  them  not  as  ministers,  which  they 
are,  but  as  judges,  which  they  are  no  longer.     Neither  the 
lord  lieutenant  of  Ireland,  the  viceroy  of  India,  nor  the 
governor-general  of  Canada  has  any  rank  or  place  at  St 
James's,  where,  as  well  as  at  Westminster,  the  lord  steward 
or  the  lord  chamberlain  o,f  the  household  is  a  much  greater 
and  more,  splendid  personage.     Again,  in  the  scale  of 
general  precedence  there  are  no  clergymen  except  bishops, 
no  lawyers  except  judges,  and  no  officers  of  either  the  army 
or  the  navy  from  field-marshals  and  admirals  of  the  fleet 
downwards.     Nor,  of  course,  are  any  colonial  governors  or 
lieutenant-governors  entered  on  it.     It  contains  no  mention 
of  under-secretarie.".  of  state,  chairmen  or  commissioners  of 
administrative  boards,  comptrollers  or  secretaries  of  Govern- 
ment departments,  lord  lieutenants  or  sheriffs  of  counties, 
deputy  lieutenants  or  justices  of  the  peace,  members  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  or  graduates  of  the  universities.     It 
is  true  that  among  some  of  these  classes  definite  systems 
of  subovdination  are  established  by  either  authority  or 
usage,  which  are  carefully  observed  and  enforced  in  the 
particular  areas  and  spheres  to  which  they  have  reference. 
But  we  have  seldom  any  means  of  determining  the  relative 
value  of  a  given  term  in  one  series  as  compared  with  a 
given  term  in  another  series,  or  of  connecting  .the  different 
steps  in  the  scales  of  local,  professional,  or  academical  pre- 
cedence with  the  different  steps  in  the  scale  of  general 
precedence,  to  which  such  scales  of  special   precedence 
ought  to  be  contributory  and  supplementary.     We  know, 
for  example,  that  major-generals,  and  rear-admirals  are  of 
equal  rank,  that  with  them  are  placed  commissariesrgeneral 
and  inspectors-general  of  hospitals  and  fleets,  that  in  India 
along  with   civilians  of  thirty-one  years'  standing  they 
immediately  follow  the  vice-chancellors  of  the  Indian  uni- 
versities, and  that  in  relation  to  the  consular  service  they 
immediately  precede  agents-general  and  consuls-general. 
But  there  is  nothing  to  aid  us  in  determining  whether 
in  England  they  should  be  ranked  with,  before,  or  after 
deans,  queen's  counsel,  or  doctors  in  divinity,  who  are  as 
destitute  as  they  are  themselves  of  any  recognized  general 
precedence,  and  who,  as  matters  now  stand,  would  certainly 
,  have  to  give  place  to  the  younger  sons  of  baronets  and 
knights  and  the  coiApanions  of  the  knightly  orders. 

The  subjoined  tables  of  special  precedence,  although 
their  authority  would  not  always  be  admitted  in  the  Col- 
has  in  such  cases  become  established.  This  applies,  for  instance,  to 
the  places  of  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Privy  Chamber,  Law  Officers  of  the 
Crown  and  Masters  and  Six  Clerks  in  Chancery,  who  have  no  definite 
or  fixed  place  in  the  tables  of  precedency  regulating  the  general  orders 
of  society,  though  in  reference  to  State  ceremonials  they  have  certam 
places  assigned  in  the  order  of  procession  in  right  of  their  offices, 
which,  however,  give  them'no  general  rank.  Upon  snch  occasions, 
nevertheless,  the  legal  rank  and  precedence  which  they  bold  in  the 
Courts  of  Law  is  observed,  and  so  far  establishes  among  themselves, 
and  in  respect  to  their  several  classes,  their  precedency  "  (Sir  Charles 
Youn&  Ord^  of  Prectdmcc,  &c.,  pp.  59-61^ 


1 


PRECEDENCE 


667 


46ge  of  Arms,  may  perhaps  assist  towards  the  solution  of 
Kome  of  the  problems  which  occasionally  arise  in  ordinary 
society. 

J  I.  EccUsuutical  PrecwftTice.— (1)  Aredftjanop  of  Canterbury;  (2)  nrchbishop 
Jof  York  ;  (3)  archbishop  of  Armagh  ;  (4)  archbishop  of  Dublin  ;  (5)  bishop  of 
/  London ;  (6)  bishhp  of  Durham ;  (7)  bishop  of  Winchester ;  (8)  other  bishops 
I  of  England  ;  (9)  Mshop  of  Mealh  ;  (10)  other  bishops  of  Ireland  ;  (11)  suffragan 
I  biahops  of  England  ;  (12)  bishop  of  Sodor  and  Man  ;  (13)  bishops  of  Scotland  ; 
I  (14)  colonial  bishops  ;  (16)  deans  of  cathedrals  ;  (lu)  archdeacons  ;  (17)  canons  ; 
I  (18)  rural  deans  ;  (19)  rectors  ;  (20)  vicai-s  ;  (21)  curates. 

2.  Lfjoi  Pre««dence.—(1)  Lord  chancellorof  Great  Britain;  (2)  lord  chancellor 
of  Ireland  ;  (3)  lords  of  appeal  in  ordinary  in  the  House  of  Loi-ds  ;  (4)  members 
of  the  judicial  coniniittoe  of  the  privy  council ;  (5)  lord  chief  justice  of  England  ; 

,(6)l'*rd  justice-general  and  president  of  the  Court  of  Session  of  Scotland  ;  (7) 
;lofd  chief  justice  of  Ireland;  (8)  master  of  the  rolls  in  England';  (9)  lord 
Mliatice.clerk  and  president  of  the  sect>nd  division  of  the  Court  of  Session  of 
'Scotland  ;  (10)  master  of  the  rolls  in  Ireland  ;  (II)  lords  justices  of  appeal  in 
fEngland;  (12)  lords  chief  justice  of  the  Common  Pleas,  chief  baron  of  the 
'Exchequer,  and  justices  of  apijeal  in  Ireland  ;  (13)  vice-chancellor  in  England  ; 
(14)  vice-chancellor  in  Ireland  ;  (15)  judges  of  the  High  Court  of  Justice  in 
England;  (16)  senators  of  the  College  of  Justice  in  Scotland;  (17)  judges  of  the 
High  Court  of  Justice  in  Ireland  ;  (18)  attorney-general  for  England  ;  (19)  lord 
advocate  of  Scotland  ;  (20)  attorney-general  for  Ireland  ;  (21)  solicitor-general 
for  England ;  (22)  solicitor-genei-al  for  Scotland ;  (23)  solicitor-general  for 
Ireland;  (24)  queen's  counsel;  (25)  serjeants-at-law ;  (26)  masters  in  lunacy; 
(27)  recorder  of  London  ;  (26)  treasurers  of  the  Inns  of  Court ;  (29)  dean  of  the 
faculty  in  Scotland;  (30)  barristers ;  (31)  advocates  ;  (32)  president  of  the  Incor- 
porated Inw  Society  ;  (33)  solicitors  ;  (34)  writers  to  the  signet ;  (35)  writers. 

3.  Military  Pricedtn/x.—fl)  Field  -  marshals ;  (2)  generals;  (3)  lieutenant- 
penerala ;  (4)  major-generals,  inspectors-general  of  hospitals  after  three  years' 
service  or  with  an  array  in  the  held,  and  commissaries-general ;  (5)  brigadier. 
generals,  deputy  paymasters-general,  and  inspectors-general  of  liuspitals  of 
under  three  years  service  and  not  with  an  army  in  the  field ;  (6)  colonels, 
deputy  judge  advixiate,  and  deputy  inspectors-general  of  hospitals  after  five 
yeara'  service  ;  (7)  lieutenant-colonels,  deputy  commissaries-general  after  five 
years'  service,  deputy  inspectors-general  of  hospitals,  and  surgeon-majors  ;  (8) 
minors,  deputy  commissaries-general  under  five  years'  service,  assistant-  com- 

■  missaries-general,  inspectors  of  army  accounts,  staff  or  regimental  surgeons, 
chaplains  attached  to  brigades,  deputy  judge  advocates  if  not  at  the  bead  of 
their  department,  storekeepers  of  the  ordnance,  and  barrack  masters  of  the 
first  and  second  classes ;  (9)  captains,  deputy  assistant  commissaries-general, 
assistant  deputy  paymasters-general,  regimental  paymasters,  principal  examiner 
of  military  accounts,  staff  or  regimenl-al  assistant  surgeons  after  ten  years' 
service,  veterinary  surgeons  after  twenty  years'  service,  chaplains  attached  U} 
regiments,  deputy  storekeepers  of  the  ordnance,  and  barrack  masters  of  the 
tlmtl  and  fourth  classes;!  (10)  lieutenants,'  acting  deputy  assistant  com- 
missaries-general, examiners  of  military  accounts,  assistant  surgeons,  apothe- 
caries of  less  than  fifteen  years'  service,  deputy  medical  purveyors,  and 
veterinary  surgeons  after  ten  years'  service ;  (11)  second  lieutenants,  com- 
missariat clerks,  clerks  in  the  piymaster-generaVs  and  military  accounts 
departments,  medical  and  ordnance  clerks,  and  veterinary  stirgeons  under  ten 
years'  service  ;  (12)  superintending  schoolinasters. 

4.  HaWLl  Prccede>ia.—{1)  Admirals  of  the  lleet ;  (2)admirals  ;  (3)  vice-admirals; 
(4) rear-admirals  and  inspectors-general  of  hospitals  and  fleets  ;  (5)  commodores  ; 
(6)  captains  of  over  three  years'  seniority,  deputy  inspectors-general  of  hospitals 
and  fleets,  secretaries  to  admirals  of  the  fleet,  paymaster-in-chief,  chief  inspcc- 
tor»  of  machinery,  and  inspectors  of  machinery  of  eight  years'  standing ;  (7) 
captains  of  under  three  years'  seniority  ;  (8)  staff  captains,  secretaries  to  com- 
nianders-in-chief  of  live  years'  standing,  and  inspectors  of  machinery  of  under 
eight  years'  standing  ;  (9)  commanders  ;  (10)  staff  commanders,  fleet  surgeons, 
ancretarics  to  commanders-in-chief  of  under  five  years'  standing,  paymasters  of 
tlfteen  years',  cliief  engineers  of  ten,  and  naval  instructors  of  fifteen  years' 
standing  ;  (11)  lieutenants  of  eight  years'  seniority  ;  (12)  navigating  lieutenants 
of  eight  years'  seniority,  staff  surgeons,  secretaries  to  junior  flag  officers,  pay- 
masters of  eight,  naval  instnietors  of  eight,  and  chief  engineers  of  under  ten 
vears'  standing  ;  (13)  lieutenants  of  under  eight  years'  seniority  ;  (14)  navigating 
lieutenants  of  under  eight  years'  seniority,  surgeons,  secretaries  to  commodores 
of  the  second  class,  paymasters  and  naval  Instructors  of  under  eight  and 
assistant  paymasters  and  engineers  of  over  eight  years'  standing  ;  (15)  sub-lieu- 
tenants; (16)  navigating  sub-lieutenants,  assistant  paymasters  and  engineers 
of  under  eight  years'  standing,  chief  carpenters,  and  assistant  engineers  ;  (17) 
chief  gunners  and  chief  boatswains  ;  (18)  gunners,  boatswains,  and  carpenters  ; 
(19)  midshipmen  and  clerks  ;  ('20)  naval  cadets  and  assistant  clerks. 

6.  Belatii'e  Mililary  and  J^'aval  I'recedfnce. — (1)  Field^marshals  with  admirals 
of  the  fleet ;  (2>  generals  with  admirals ;  (3)  lieutenant-generals  with  vice- 
admirals ;  (4)  major-generals  with  rear-admirals;  (5)  brigadier -generals  with 
commodores  ;  (6)  colonels  with  captains  of  over  three  years'  seniority  ;  (7)  lieu- 
tenant-colonels with  captains  of  under  three  years'  seniority  and  staff  captains, 
and  before  commanders  and  staff  commanders  ;  (8)  majors  with  lieutenants  and 
navigating  lieutenants  of  eight  years'  seniority  ;  (9)  captains  with  lieutenants 
and  navigating  lieutenants  ol  under  eight  years'  seniority  ;  (10)  lieutenants  with 
•ub-lieutenants  and  navigating  sub-lieutenants ;  (111  second  lieutenants  with 
midshipmen. 

8.  DiplomalU  and  Conmlar  Precederue.—(,l)  Ambassadors  Immediately  after 
the  ro>»l  family  and  the  sons  and  brothers  of  sovereigns,  and  before  arch- . 
bishops,  great  officers  of  state,  and  dukes  ;  (2)  envoys  and  ministers  accreditc<l 
to  the  sovereign  after  dukes  an'l  before  marnue3.sc6  ;  (3)  charges  d'afliircs  who 
ue  accredited,  not  to  the  sovereign,  but  to  the  minister  of  foreign  affairs,  have 
BO  recognized  general  precedence  ;  (4)  military  or  naval  attachijs  of  higher  rank 
than  colonel  in  the  army  or  captain  in  the  navy,  next  to  the  head  of  the  mission  ; 
(5)  agents-general  and  consuls-general  with  but  a'ter  major-generals  and  rear- 
a<lmirals ;  (6)  consuls-general  with  but  after  brigadier-generals  and  coinmo. 
dorea ;  (7)  secretaries  of  embassy  ;  (S)  secretaries  of  legation  ;  (9)  military  or 
naval  attaches  of  or  under  the  rank  of  colonel  In  the  army  or  captain  In  the 
navy,  next  to  the  secretary  of  embassy  or  legation  ;  (10)  consuls  with  but  after 
colonels  in  the  army  and  captains  In  the  navy  ;  (11)  second  secretaries  of  em- 
bassy ;  (12)  second  secretaries  of  legation;  (13)  vice-consuls  with  but  after 
m^ors  in  the  army  and  lieutenants  In  the  navy  of  eight  years'  seniority  ;  (14) 
third  secretaries  of  embassy  ;  (15)  third  secretaries  of  legation  ;  (16)  consular 
agenta  with  but  after  captains  in  the  army  and  lieutenants  in  the  navy  of  under 
eight  years'  seniority  ;  (17)  attaches. 

7.  Colonial  Precedence  gencralhj.—(\)  Thn  governor  or  lleutennnt-govcmor 
or  olflcer  administering  the  governrnont ;  (2)  general  in  command  of  the  troops 
and  admiral  In  command  of  the  naval  forces ;  (3)  the  bishop ;  (4)  the  chief 
Justice ;  (5)  colonel  or  lieutenant-colonel  In  command  of  the  troons  and  the 
officer  of  equivalent  rank  in  command  of  the  naval  forces  ;  (0)  members  of  tho 

•  Town  or  fort  majors,  if  officers  nnder  the.  rank  of  captain,  rank  os  tho 
Junior  captains  in  the  garrison,  and  opothecarits  after  fifteen  years'  service 
rtnk  immediate';  before  lieutenants. 


execntive  council ;  (7)  president  of  the  legislative  conncll ;  (8)  members  el 
the  legislative  council ;  (9)  speaker  of  the  house  of  assembly ;  (10)  puisne 
judges  ;  (11)  members  of  the  house  of  assembly  ;  (12)  colonial  secretary  not 
being  in  the  executive  council ;  (13)  commissioners  or  Government  agents  of 
provinces  or  districts  ;  (14)  attorney-general ;  (15)  solicitor-general ;  (16)  m^or 
or  other  senior  officer  in  command  of  the  troops  and  the  officer  of  equivalent 
rank  in  command  of  the  naval  forces  ;  (17)  the  archdeacon  ;  (IS)  treasurer,  pay  - 
mister-general,  or  collector  of  internal  revenue  ;  (19)  auditor-general  or  inspector 
of  general  accounts ;  (20)  commissioner  of  crown  lands ;  (21)  collector  o( 
customs  ;  (22)  comptroller  of  customs  ;  (23)  surveyor-general ;  (24)  clerk  of  tho 
executive  council ;  (25)  clerk  of  the  legislative  council ;  (2i3)  clerk  of  the  bouse 
of  assembly. 

8.  Precedence  in  The  Dominion  of  Canada.— (I)  The  govemorgeneral  or  officer 
administering  the  government;  (2)  general  commanding  tho  troops  and 
admiral  commanding  the  naval  forces ;  (3)  lieutenant-governor  of  Ontario ; 
(4)  lieutenant-governor  of  Quebec  ;  (5)  lieutenant-governor  of  Nova  Scotia;  (6) 
lieutenant-governor  of  New  Brunswick;  (7)  archbishops  and  bishops:  (8) 
members  of  the  cabinet ;  (9)  speaker  of  the  Senate ;  (10)  chief  judges  of  thj 
courts  of  law  and  equity ;  (11)  members  of  the  privy  council ;  (12)  generals 
and  admirals  not  in  chief  command  ;  (13)  colonel  in  command  of  the  troops  and 
naval  officer  of  equivalent  rank  in  command  of  the  naval  forces  ;  (14)  members 
of  the  Senate ;  (15)  speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons  ;  (16)  puisne  judges ; 
(17)  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  ;  (18)  members  of  provincial  executive 
councils  within  their  province  ;  (19)  speaker  of  legislative  councils  within  his 
province ;  (20)  members  of-  legislative  councils  within  their  province ;  (21) 
speaker  of  legislative  assemblies  within  his  province ;  (22)  members  of  legis- 
lative assemblies  within  their  province. 

9.  Precedence  in  the  Indian  Empire,— (I)  Governor- general  and  viceroy  ol 
India  ;  (2)  governors  of  Madras  and  Bombay ;  (3)  president  of  the  council  of  the 
governor-general ;  (4)  lieutenant-governors  of  Bengal,  the  North- We.st  Provinces, 
and  the  Punjab  when  in  their  own  territories ;  (5)  commander-in-chief  in  India  I 
(6)  lieutenant-governors  of  Bengal,  the  North-West  Provinces,  and  the  Punjab  ; 
(T)  chief  justice  of  Bengal;  (8)  bishop  of  Calcutta,  metropolitan  of  India;  (9) 
ordinary' members  of  the  council  of  the  governor-general ;  (10)  commandere-in- 
chief  in  Madras  and  Bombay  ;  (U)  commander-in-chief  of  the  naval  forces  un- 
less senior  in  relative  rank  to  the  above  ;  (12)  chief  justices  of  Madras,  Bombay, 
and  the  North-West  Provinces  ;  (13)  bishops  of  Maiiras  and  Bombay  ;  (14)  ordi- 
nary members  of  council  in  Madras  and  Bombay  ;  (15)  cliicf  commissioners  and 
resident  at  Hyderabad,  and  agents  to  the  governor-general  in  RajpuUna.  Cen- 
tral India,  and  Baroda ;  (16)  puisne  judges  of  the'  High  Courts  of  CalcutU, 
Madras,  Bombay,  and  tho  North-West  Pi'ovinces ;  (17)  military  ofllcers  above 
major-generals  ;  (18)  additional  members  of  the  councils  of  the  governor- general ; 
(19)  secretaries  to  the  Government  of  India  ;  (20)  commissioner  in  Sind  ;  (21) 
Juflges  of  the  Chief  Court  in  the  Punjab  ;  (22)  additional  membera  of  the  councils 
of  the  governors  of  Madras  and  Bombay  ;  (23)  chief  secretaries  to  the  Govern- 
ments of  Madras  and  Bombay  ;  (24)  members  of  the  legislative  council  of  the 
lieutenant-governor  of  Bengal;  (26)  ■vice-chancellors  of  Indian  universities. 
Fird  class :  (26)  civilians  of  thirty-one  years'  standing  and  major-generals ; 
(27)  advocate-general,  Calcutta  ;  (28)  advocates-general,  Madras  and  Bombay  ; 
(29)  members  of  the  boards  of  revenue,  Bengal,  Madras,  and  the  North-West 
Provinces,  and  commissioners  of  revenue  and  customs,  Bombay  ;  (30)  financial 
commissioner,  Punjab  ;  (31)  judicial  commissioners  and  recorder  of  Rangoon  ; 
(32)  comptroller-general  of  occounts  in  India  ;  (33)  commissioners  of  divisions 
within  their  own  divisions,  and  residents,  political  agents,  and  superintendents, 
on  pay  of  Es.2000  per  mensem  or  more  (not  being  collectors  or  deputy  com- 
missioners of  British  districts),  within  their  own  charges ;  (34)  civil  and  military 
secretaries  to  Govemmeuts  of  Madras  and  Bombay,  and  civil  secretaries  to 
Governments  of  Bengal,  North-West  Provinces,  and  Punjob;  (36)  surveyor- 
general  of  India,  and  directors-general  of  the  post-office  and  of  telegraphs ;  (30) 
chief  engineers,  first  class  ;  (37)  archdoacous  of  Calcutta,  Madras  and  Bombay  | 
(38)  brigadier  generals.  Second  class :  (39)  civilians  of  twenty-three  years 
standing  and  colonels ;  (40)  commissioners  of  divisions,  and  commissioners  of 
police,  Calcutta ;  (41)  private  sccreUry  to  the  viceroy  ;  (42)  residents,  political 
agents,  end  superintendents  on  pay  of  R8.2000  per  mensem  or  more  (not  bcmg 
collectora  or  deputy  commissioners  of  British  districts) ;  (43)  superintendent 
of  the  trigonometrical  survey  ;  (44)  commissioner  of  inland  customs  ;  (45)  sani- 
tary commissioner  of  the  Government  of  India ;  (46)  superintendent  of  tho 
Geological  Survey;  (47)  inspector -general  of  forests  in  India;  (48)  standing 
council  to  the  Government  of  India;  (40)  military  accounUnt  -  general ;  (50) 
directors  of  public  instruction  under  local  governments  ;  (5I)accountant-gencral 
for  local  governments;  (52)  inspectors -general  of  police  under  local  govern- 
ments ;  (6-1)  director  of  revenue  settlement  and  superintendent  of  revenue 
survey,  Madras,  survey  and  settlement  commissioners,  Bombay,  and  com- 
missioner of  settlements,  Punjab;  (54)  rcmembrancera  of  legal  affaira  and 
Government  advocates  in  the  North-West  Provinces,  tlio  Punjab,  and 
British  Burniah ;  (55)  consulting  engineera  to  the  Government  of  India  for 
guaranteed  railways,  Calcutta  and  Lahore,  and  chief  engineers  (second  and 
Ihinl  classes)  under  local  governments-;  (66)  district  and  sessions  judges,  col- 
lectora and  magistrates  of  districts,  deputy  superintendent  of  Port  Blair,  and 
the  chief  olflcer  of  each  presidency  municipality,  witliiii  their  respective  charges ; 
(67)  officers  of  the  first  class  graded  list  of  civil  olllcos  not  reserved  for  members 
of  iho  Covenanted  Civil  Service.  Third  class  :  (58)  civilians  of  eighteen  years 
standing  and  lieutenant- colonels ;  (59)  political  agents  and  suiienntendenU 
on  pay  of  Ks.lOOO  and  less  than  Rs.2000  per  mensem  (not  being  collectora  or 
deputy  commissioners  in  British  districts)  within  their  own  charges ;  (80) 
military  secretary  to  tho  Government,  Punjab,  ond  civil  sccrcUiies  to  local 
administrations  ;  (01)  private  secretaries  to  govemora  ;  (62)  directora  of  public 
Instruction  under  local  administrations  ;  (63)  administrators-general,  Calcutta, 
Madras,  and  Bombay;  (64)  inspectora-general  of  jails  and  of  registration, 
sanitary  commissionera.  Inspectors,  ond  conservators  of  forests  under  local 
governments,  and  postmasters -general  i  (65)  accountants -general  for  local 
administrations;  (66)  consulting  engineer  to  the  Oovemmcnt  of  India  for 
guaranteed  railways,  Lucknow,  and  chief  and  superintending  engineera  when 
BccroUries  to  local  administrations  or  to  agents  to  the  governor-general ;  (67) 
Inspectora-general  of  police  under  local  administrations  ;  (08)  senior  chaplains  ; 
(09)  superintendent  of  marine.  Bombay;  (70)  master  attendants;  (71)»heilffs 
within  Iheir  own  charges  ;  (72)  ofllcers  in  tho  second  class  graded  list  of  civil 
offlcca  not  reserved  for  members  of  tho  Covcnanteil  Civil  .Service.  1-ourlh 
class:  (73)  civilians  of  twelve  yeara'  standing  and  majors;  (74)  tiolitiral  agents 
and  Buperintendents  of  less  than  Rs.lOOO  per  mensem  williiii  their  own 
charges :  (76)  Government  solicitors ;  (76)  In.spectore-goneral  of  Jails  and  ol 
registration,  saniUry  comralaslonerH.  and  conservatore  of  forests  under  local 
administrations;  (77)  ofllcera  In  the  third  clsas  graded  list  of  civil  oBlccs  not 
reserved  for  membera  of  the  Covenanted  Civil  Service.' 


>  "All  ladles  to  take  place  according  to  the  rank  herein  assigned  to  their 
respoetivo  huslanda,  with  tho  exception  of  wives  of  Peera  and  of  lodles  having 
precedence  In  England  independently  of  their  husbands  and  who  are  not  In 
rank  below  tho  daughters  of  Barons,  such  ladles  to  take  place  according  to 
their  several  ranks  with  referenro  to  such  precedence  In  Englsnd  Immediately 
ofter  the  wives  of  members  of  council  at  tho  i.rcaidcuclcs  lu  India  "  l!Uiy*i 
IKorronI,  18tb  October  1876).. 


668 


P  R  E  — P  R  E 


10.  Academical  Precedence.— (I)  Chancellora  ;  (2)  high  stewards  ;  (3>  vice- 
chancellors  ;  (4)  rectora ;  (5)  principals;  (6)  heads  of  colleges  and  halls;  (7) 
doctors  of  divinity  ;  (8)  doctors  of  law  ;  (9>  doctors  of  medicine  ;  (10)  doctors 
of  music;  (11)  bachelors  of  divinity;  (12)  proctors;  (13)  professors;  (H) 
masters  of  law  ;  (15)  masters  of  arts  ;  (16)  bachelors  of  law  ;  (17)  bachelora  of 
medicine;  (IS)  bachelors  of  music;  (19)  bachelors  of  arts.  Offices  in  the 
universities  are  more  or  less  different  in  each  of  them,  and  those  which 
are  peculiar  to  any  one  vary  so  much  from  those  which  are  peculiar  to 
the  othei-s  that  it  is  not  convenierit  to  enumerate  and  distinguish  them. 
Among  graduates  of  all  of  them  the  senior  take  precedence  of  the  junior 
according  to  their  several  faculties  and  degrees  and  the  relative  antiquity  of 
their  universities  in  the  order  of  Oxford,  Cambridge,  St  Andrews,  Glasgow, 
Aberdeen,  Edinburgh,  Dublin,  London,  Durham,  Queen's,  Sydney,  Melbourne, 
Catholic,  Royal,  and  Victoria.  (F.  DR.) 

PREDESTINATION  is  a  tlieological  term,  sometimes 
used  with  greater  latitude  to  denote  the  decree  or  purpose 
of  God  by  which  He  has  from  eternity  immutably  deter- 
mined whatever  comes  to  pass  ;  sometimes  more  strictly  to 
denote  the  decree  by  which  men  are  destined  to  everlasting 
happiness  or  misery  ;  and  sometimes  with  excessive  strict- 
ness to  denote  only  predestination  to  life  or  election.' 

The  question  to  which  the  theory  of  predestination 
supplies  an  answer,  although  it  has  a  special  interest  to 
Christian  thought,  yet  arises  in  aU  minds  which  are  occupied 
with  the  problems  of  human  existence.  That  question  is, 
To  what  cause  can  we  refer  the  diversities  in  human 
character,  fortunes,  and  destiny?  The  Greek  tragedians 
made  it  their  business  to  exhibit  the  helplessness  of  man 
in  his  strife  against  fate.  Sometimes  indeed  they  explicitly 
distinguish  fate  from  a  mere  pitiless  and  non-moral  sove- 
reignty and  identify  it  with  the  Nemesis  which  pursues 
hereditary  or  individual  guilt;  and  sometimes — as  in  the 
case  of  CEdipus— they  foUow  the  history  of  the  sufferer 
for  the  sake  of  showing  how  the  predestined  and  inevitable 
transgression  and  punishment  educate  the  character.  But 
the  idea  which  fascinates  and  pursues  them  is  that  man  can- 
not escape  his  destiny,  that  his  life  is  woven  with  a  "  shuttle 
of  adamant,"  and  that  when  God  means  to  destroy  a  man 
He  makes  evil  seem  good  to  him  (Soph.,  Antig.,  622-24). 
The  Greek  philosophy  tended  in  the  same  direction ;  and 
the  Stoic  doctrine  of  necessity  or  providence,  though  based 
on  a  broad  and  thoroughly  philosophical  view  of  nature 
and  of  man's  place  in  it,  was  entangled  in  the  very  difB- 
ciilties  which  attach  to  Calvinism. 

Among  the  Jews  the  Sadducees  carried  their  defence 
of  free  will  so  far  as  to  deny  predestination ;  while  the 


'  This  restricted  use  of  the  term  is  favoured  by  Lutherans  ("  Ac- 
cipitur  prffidestinatio  vel  improprie,  quomodo  destinationem  et  ad 
vitara  et  ad  mortem  complectitur,  .  .  .  vel  proprie^  quomodo  phrasi 
scripturae  tantum  ordinationem  ad  vitara  notat,"  Quenstedt).  In 
a  different  interest,  the  Westminster  Confession  seems  to  incline  to 
restrict  the  use  of  the  word  "  predestinate  "  to  the  decree  which  secures 
to  some  men  life  eternal,  while  for  the  obverse  of  that  decree,  by 
which  tlie  rest  of  men  are  consigned  to  everlasting  death,  it  prefers  the 
term  "  foreordained  "  :  its  words  are,  "  By  the  decree  of  God,  for  the 
manifestation  of  His  glory,  some  men  and  angels  are  predestinated 
unto  everlasting  life  and  others  foreordained  to  everlasting  death. 
These  angels  and  men,  thus  predestinated  and  foreordaitied,"  &c.  Dr 
Cunningham  {Historical  Theol,  ii.  422)  tells  us  th.it  this  distinction 
is  not  grounded  either  on  etymology  or  on  the  usage  of  theologians, 
"but  Calvinists,  in  general,  have  held  that  there  is  an  important  dif- 
ference between  the  way  and  manner  in  which  the  decree  of  election 
bears  or  operates  upon  the  condition  and  fate  of  those  who  are  saved, 
and  that  in  which  the  decree  of  reprobation,  as  it  is  often  called,  bears 
or  operates  upon  the  condition  of  those  who  perish  ;  and  the  existence 
of  this  difference,  though  \vithout  any  exact  specification  of  its  nature, 
the  compilers  of  the  Confession  seem  to  have  intended  to  indicate,  by 
restricting  the  word  'predestinate'  to  the  elect,  the  saved  ;  and  using 
the  word  '  foreordained '  in  regard  to  the  rest."  Probably  a  signi- 
ficance slightly  more  definite  should,  however,  be  attached  to  the 
introduction  of  this  distinction  ;  for  as  early  as  the  age  of  Augustine 
objection  was  taken  to  the  e.\-pression  " pradestinati  ad  interilum" 
on  the  specific  ground  that  it  seemed  to  impose  upon  men  a  necessity 
of  perishing.  And  Bishop  Davenant,  while  he  does  not  shrink  from 
using  the  term  "  predestinate  to  death,"  gives  this  significant  explana- 
tion :  "  if  by  predestinating  ad  interitum  we  underetand  the  causing 
and  effectual  working  of  any  man's  destruction,  God  cannot  be  said 
prmdestinare  ad  interitvm  :  but  if  we  only  understand  the  foreordain- 
ing of  tliose  to  damnation  whom  God  foresaw  deserving  and  working 
the  same,  we  neither  think  nor  speak  otherwise  than  the  orthodox 
fathers  did"  {Animadversions^  kc,  p.  41). 


Pharisees  and  Essenes  ran  to  the  other  extreme  and  left  no 
place  for  human  freedom  (Josephus,  Antiq.,  xviii.  1,  3,  4  ; 
xiii.  5,  9). 

In  Islam  the  subject  of  predestination  has  produced 
endless  controversy.  The  orthodox  doctrine  is  thus  stated 
by  Al-Berkevi.  "  It  is  necessary  to  confess  that  good  and 
evil  take  place  by  the  predestination  and  predetermination 
of  God,  that  all  that  has  been  and  all  that  will  be  was  de- 
creed in  eternity  and  written  on  the  preserved  table ;  that 
the  faith  of  the  believer,  the  piety  of  the  pious,  and  their 
good  actions  are  foreseen,  willed,  predestinated,  decreed  by 
the  writing  on  the  preserved  table  produced  and  approved 
by  God :  that  the  unbelief  of  the  unbeliever,  the  impiety 
of  the  impious,  and  bad  actions  come  to  pass  with  the 
foreknowledge,  will,  predestination,  and  decree  of  God,  but 
not  with  His  satisfaction  and  approval.  Should  any  ask 
why  God  willeth  and  produceth  evil,  we  can  only  reply 
that  He  may  have  wise  ends  in  view  which  we  cannot 
comprehend."  Some  Mohammedan  teachers  (disciples  of 
Al-Ash"ari)  endeavour  to  maintain  the  consistency  of  this 
doctrine  with  man's  freedom  and  responsibility ;  but  prac- 
tically the  Sunnite  or  orthodox  Mohammedans  believe  that 
by  the  force  of  God's  eternal  decree  man  is  constrained  to 
act  thus  or  thus.  From  this  there  has  resulted,  on  the  one 
band,  the  Epicurean  pessimism  of  'Omar  Khayyim — 

"  'Tis  all  a  chequer-board  of  nights  and  days 
"Where  destiny  with  men  for  pieces  plays  : 
Hither  and  thither  moves,  and  mates,  and  slays. 
And  one  by  one  back  in  the  closet  lays  " — 

or  the  weak  recklessness  of  the  poet  Faizi :  "  Before  thou 
and  I  were  thought  of,  our  freewill  was  taken  from  us ;  be 
without  cares  for  the  Maker  of  both  worlds  settled  our 
affairs  long  before  we  were  made."  On  the  other  hand, 
there  has  resulted  the  freethinking  (Mo'tazilite)  reaction, 
to  which  the  Shiahs  incline  and  which  rehabilitates  freewill 
at  the  expense  of  the  divine  sovereignty. 

Within  the  Christian  church  there  have  in  like  manner 
always  existed  two  opposed  beliefs  regarding  predestinar 
tion,  which  have  received  their  ultimate  development  and 
expression  in  the  Calvinistic  and  Arminian  systems  respect- 
ively. The  Calvinistic  doctrine  of  predestination  is  that 
"from  all  eternity  God  chose  or  elected  some  men — certain 
definite  persons  of  the  human  race — to  everlasting  life ; 
that  He  decreed  or  determined  certainly  and  infaUibly,  and 
not  conditionally  and  mutably,  to  bring  those  persons  to 
salvation  by  a  Redeemer ;  that  in  making  this  selection  of 
some  men,  and  in  decreeing  to  save  theni,  He  was  not  in- 
fluenced or  determined  by  anything  existing  in  them  or 
foreseen  in  them — such  as  faith  or  good  works — by  which 
they  were  distinguished  from  other  men,  or  by  anything 
out  of  Himself,  or  by  any  reason  known  to  us  or  compre- 
hensible by  us ;  and  that  this  eternal  purpose  or  decree  Ho 
certainly  and  infallibly  executes,  in  regard  to  each  and 
every  one  included  under  it ;  while  all  the  rest  of  men  not 
thus  elected  He  decreed  to  pass  by,  —  to  leave  in  their 
■natural  state  of  sin  and  misery,  and  finally  to  punish  eter 
nally  for  their  sin."  The  Arminian  doctrine  of  predestina- 
tion (see  Arminius)  is  that  God  has  from  eternity  decreed 
to  give  eternal  life  to  as  many  as  repent  and  believe,  and 
foreseeing  who  shall  repent  and  believe  He  has  determined 
to  give  life  to  these.  The  "  peremptory  "  election  of  indi- 
viduals to  life  eternal  proceeds  only  on  the  foreknowledge 
of  their  faith  and  obedience,  so  that,  as  the  Remonstrants 
explicitly  affirmed,  the  decree  proper  in  predestination  is 
that  decree  by  which  it  is  determined  on  what  grounds  or 
conditions  God  assigns  sinners  to  salvation.-  The  differ- 
ence between  these  two  views  of  predestination  is  wide, 
and,  when  logically  carried  out,  radical     The  Calvinist 


'  "Sententia  Kemonstr.,"  in  Hales's  Letters  from  Dort,  pp.  174-. 
175  ;  &Uo  Apoi.  Con/,  Remonsir.,  p.  102. 


PREDESTINATION 


661' 


maintains  that  God  absolutely  decrees  the  salvation  of  a 
certain  fixed  number  of  definite  persons,  and  in  pursuance 
of  this  decree  infallibly  secures  their  salvation;  the  Armi- 
aian  maintains  that  God's  decree,  so  far  as  it  concerns  the 
salvation  of  individuals,  is  conditional  upon  their  use  of  the 
means  of  grace.  That  which  constitutes  Arminianism  is 
the  denial  that  God  absolutely  elects  individuals  to  eternal 
life  ;  and  that  which  lies  at  the  root  of  Calvinism,  and  out 
of  which  all  that  is  characteristic  of  the  system  springs,  is 
the  afiSrmation  that  God  does  absolutely  elect  certain  in- 
dividuals to  life  eternal,  and  in  pursuance  of  this  decree 
works  in  them  all  that  constitutes  life  eternal.  Accord- 
ing to  Calvinism,  salvation  is  the  work  of  God.  Seeing 
men  to  be  all  alike  helplessly  involved  in  sin  and  misery, 
God  determined  to  save  some,  not  on  account  of  any  good 
in  them  but  for  some  inscrutable  but  necessarily  wise  and 
jnst  reasons,  and  because  of  this  determination  He  gives 
to  those  whom  He  wills  to  save,  and  enables  them  to  receive 
and  retain,  all  that  is  involved  in  salvation, — renewal  of 
will,  union  to  Christ,  holiness  of  life,  the  indwelling  Spirit. 
The  doctrine  of  predestination  was  first  formulated  in 
the  church  by  Augustine.  The  Pelagian  idea  that  man 
is  competent  to  determine  his  own  character,  conduct,  and 
destiny  was  repugnant  to  him,  and  he  strove  to  show 
that  the  initial  and  determining  element  in  the  salvation 
of  the  individual  is  not  the  human  but  the  divine  will. 
He  based  his  position  upon  the  doctrine  of  original  sin 
and  the  consequent  depravity  of  the  will.  This  doctrine 
represents  the  whole  human  race  as  involved  in  moral 
rain,  guilty  and  sinful,  incapable  of  self-regeneration  or 
of  willing  what  is  good.  By  God  alone,  therefore,  can 
regeneration  and  deliverance  be  accomplished.  The 
salvation  designed  by  God  must  not  be  allowed  to  depend 
for  its  efficacy  on  the  depraved  and  incapable  will  of  man  ; 
it  must  be  an  absolute  act  of  power  on  God's  part. 
Provision  must  be  made  not  only  for  the  oflfer  but  for  the 
acceptance  of  grace.  In  a  word,  grace  must  be  effectual 
or  irresistible.  Hence  Augustine  distinguished  between 
"  assistance  without  which  a  thing  cannot  be  done "  and 
"assistance  by  which  a  thing  is  done"  (the  Jansenist 
adjutorium  sine  quo  non,  and  adjuiorium  quo,  assisting 
and  eflBcacious  or  irresistible  grace).  By  every  device  of 
language  he  throws  the  whole  work  of  salvation  upon 
God  ("facit  credentes,"  "data  sunt  et  ipsa  merita  quibus 
datur,"  "non  solum  mentes  bonas  adjuvat,  verum  etiam 
bonas  eas  facit").  This  is  the  distinctive  characteristic 
of  the  dispensation  of  redemption,  that  it  depends  not  on 
man's  will  but  on  God's.  "^A  dispensation  which  left 
the  salvation  of  man  •dependent  on  his  will  was  highly 
suitable  as  a  first  one,  suitable  alike  to  the  justice  of  the 
Creator  and  the  powers  of  the  untried  creature,  and  such 
as  we  should  naturally  expect  at  the  beginning  of  things  ; 
but  such  having  been  the  nature  of  the  first,  the  second 
must,  for  that  very  reason,  be  a  dispensation  of  a  different 
kind,  effecting  its  design  not  by  a  conditional  but  by  an 
absolute  saving  act."  This,  absolute  saving  act  being  an 
act  of  God,  and  it  being  maintained  by  all  theologians 
that  whatever  God  Himself  does  in  time  He  has  from 
eternity  decreed  to  do,  we  have  the  doctrine  of  predestina- 
tion. As  Aquinas  tersely  puts  the  kernel  of  the  Augus- 
linian  doctrine  :  "  It  is  manifest  that  whatever  is  of 
grace  is  the  effect  of  predestination."  With  Augustine 
grace  is  nothing  else  than  predestination  realized.  Grace 
is  irresistible  because  it  is  God's  instrument  in  fulfilling 
His  decree.  This  carries  -with  it  a  refutation  of  the  three 
modified  forms  of  predestinarian  doctrine  which  continually 
seek  to  make  good  for  themselves  a  position  within  the 
church.  It  maintains  (1)  that  men  are  elected  not  to 
means  of  grace  only  but  to  grace  itself.  Salvation  is 
infallibly  sec\ued  to  the  elect  (De  Dono  J'ersev.,  passim). 


It  maintains  (2)  that  not  nations  or  the  church  but 
individuals  are  the  object  of  predestination, — a  certain 
fixed  number,  "  so  certain  that  no  one  can  be  added  to 
it  or  taken  from  it"  (De  Corr.  et  Gratia,  13).  And  (3) 
this  predestination  must  be  founded,  not  on  foreseen  good 
in  man,  but  on  the  inscrutable  but  necessarily  just  will 
of  God  (De  Frsed.  Sanct.,  17).i 

As  Augustine  thus  constructed  the  doctrine  of  pre- 
destination as  an  integral  part  of  the  evangelical  system, 
he  necessarily  spoke  ituch  more  of  election  than  of  re- 
probation ;  but  he  did  not  shrink  from  acknowledging, 
with  all  intelligent  predestinarians,  that  the  election  of 
some  involved  the  passing  by  (prseteritio)  of  the  rest : 
"for  the  rest,  where  are  they  but  in  that  mass  of  perdition 
where  the  Divine  justice  most  justly  leaves  them  1 "  (De 
Dono  Persev.,  14).  "If  God  from  eternity  absolutely 
elected  some  unto  the  infallible  attainment  of  grace  and 
glory,  we  cannot  but  grant  that  those  who  are  not  com- 
prised within  this  absolute  decree  are  as  absolutely  passed 
by  as  the  others  are  chosen"  (Bishop  Davenant's  Animad- 
versions, p.  4).  All  men  being  naturally  under  condem- 
nation, it  seemed  to  Augustine  no  injustice  that  in  some 
that  condemnation  should  take  effect ;  and,  if  it  is  sug- 
gested that  it  would  at  all  events  have  been  better  had 
all  been  saved,  he  is  content  to  reply,  "  Who  art  thou, 
O  man,  that  repliest  against  Godl"  He  has  no  hesita- 
tion, therefore,  in  using  the  expressions  -"  prsedestinati  ad 
interitum,"  or  "  ad  jeternam  mortem,"  or  "  damnation! 
prsedestinati";  and  in  using  these  expressions  he  indicates 
that  there  are  some  to  whom  God  has  decreed  not  to  give 
saving  grace,  and  that  He  foresaw  that  these  persons 
would  sin  and  be  damned.  He  does  not  bring  the  decree 
of  reprobation  into  direct,  and  of  course  not  into  causal, 
connexion  with  the  sins  of  the  reprobate,  holding  that, 
while  the  decree  of  God  is  the  efficient  cause  of  all  good 
in  the  elect,  the  cause  of  sin  in  the  reprobate  is  the  evil 
will  of  man.  He  denies  that  God's  foreknowledge  of 
man's  sin  makes  that  sin  necessary,  but  ho  nowhere  ex- 
haustively discusses  the  distinction  between  foreknowledge 
and  decree.  When  pushed  to  defend  God's  justice  in  creat- 
ing those  whose  damnation  He  foreknew,  he  responds  to 
the  challenge  sometimes  by  showing  that,  so  far  as  the 
Creator's  responsibility  is  concerned,  the  creature  which 
sins  with  free  will  is  of  a  higher  kind  than  that  which 
cannot  sin  because  it  has  no  free  will ;  sometimes  on 
the  ground  that  it  contributes  to  God's  glory  that  His 
retributive  justice  should  be  manifested  ;  and  sometimes 
on  the  ground  that  in  the  destruction  of  sinners  the  elect 
will  see  what  God's  goodness  has  saved  them  from. 

About  the  middle  of  the  9th  century  Gottschalk 
attempted  to  revive  Augustinianism  (see  Gottschalk). 
His  teaching  regarding  predestination  was  precisely  that 
of  his  master,  and  as  such  it  was  maintained  by  Remigius 
of  Lyons  in  opposition  to  the  blundering  and  intolerant 
Hincmar  of  Rheims.  Hincmar  admitted  predestination  to 
life  and  also  the  consequent  abandonment  of  the  rest  of 
men  to  their  sinful  state,  and  yet  he  mercilessly  persecuted 
Gottschalk  for  maintaining  a  predestination  to  punish- 
ment, and  sought  to  establish  a  distinction  between  leaving 
men  in  a  state  which  involves  punishment  and  ordaining 
them  to  punishment.  Remigius  exposed  the  futility  of 
such  a  distinction,  and  showed  that  "  the  abandonment 
of  a  certain  portion  of  mankind  to  the  state  of  sin  in 
which  they  are  born  is  predestinarian  reprobation,  whether 
wo  express  it  as  abandonment  to  sin  or  as  ordaining  to 
punishment."  The  discussion,  however,  extensive  and 
heated  as  it  was,  did  not  go  deeply  into,  the  substance  of 
the  controversy.  The  incident  which  gave  a  distinctive 
character  to  this  period  of  the  development  of  the  doctrine 
'  See  Mozley,  Auguttinian  Docirint  of  Pre^ali'uitwn, 


670 


PREDESTINATION 


was  the  appeal  fpr  aid  •wiich  Hincmar  made  to  John 
Scotus  F.rigena ;  for  in  the  tract  on  predestination  which 
Erigena'  wrote  in  response  to  this  appeal  he  introduced 
the  terms  and  methods  of  philosophy  and  sought  a  solu- 
tioH  for  the  problem  in  the  nature  of  God.  He  argued 
that,  God  being  eternal,  foreknowledge  and  predestination, 
which  are  temporal  relations,  could  only  improperly  be 
predicated  of  Him.  He  argued  also  that  sin  and  its  con- 
sequences in  death  and  misery  are  nonentities,  the  mere 
corruption,  defect,  or  privation  of  their  opposite  realities, 
and  that  therefore  they  can  neither  be  caused  by  God  nor 
be  known  by-  Him.  Reprobation  is  therefore  impossible! 
Still  further,  he  argued  that  eyil  is  only  a  stage  in  the' 
development  of  good,  and  that  the  ultimate  issue  of  the 
development  is  universal  return  to  God.  This  orthodoxy 
was  considered  more  dangerous  than  the  heresy  it  was 
called  in  to  resist.  Prudentius,  Ratramnus,  Lupus,  and 
Florua  denounced  the  introduction  of  this  style  of  discus- 
sion, for  which  indeed  the  mind  of  the  church  was  not  at 
that  time  prepared.  Not  only  did  interested  individuals 
resist  the  teaching  of  Erigena,  but  two  councils  condemned 
his  treatise  as  containing  "  hsereses  plurimas,  ineptas  quses- 
tiunculas;  et  aniles  paene  fabellas,  pluribus  syllogismis 
conclusas,  Scotorumque  pultes  puritati  fidei  nauseam  in- 
ferentes."  Accordingly  no  additional  light  on  the  problem 
was  received  by  the  church  at  this  time. 

This  controversy,  however,  was  merely  the  prelude  to"  a 
discussion  which  was  maintained  throughout  the  scholSstlc- 
period,  and  in  which  the  Thomists  adopted  the  more  rigid 
Augustinian  view,  while  the  Scotists  leaned  to  Semi- 
pelagianism.  Anselm  and  Peter  Lombard  were  moderately 
and  guardedly  Augustinian.  Thomas  Bradwardine  (arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  d.  1349)  complained  that  almost 
the  whole  world  had  fallen  into  Pelagiapism,  and  strenu- 
ously opposed  this  tendency.-  But  It  is  in  Aquinas 
(Summa,  1,  Q.  xxiii.)  that  we  find  the  clearest  and  most 
compact  treatment  of  the  subject.  His  doctrine  is  sub- 
stantially that  of  Augustine.  Li  express  terms  he  teaches 
that  predestination  is  an  essential  part  of  the  divine 
providence,  and  that,  as  some,  and  these  a  fixed  number, 
are  ordained  to  life  eternal,  so  by  the  same  divine 
providence  others  are  allowed  to  fail  of  this  end  ("  et  hoc 
dicitur  reprobare").  He  teaches  further  that  this  pre- 
destination does  not  depend  upon  any  foreseen  difference 
of  character  ("  prsescientia  meritorum  non  est.  causa  vel 
ratio  prsedestinationis  ").  Aquinas  derives  his  doctrine  of 
predestination  directly  from  his  doctrine  of  God  (not  from 
his  anthropology,  as  Augustine  had  done).  His  idea  of 
God  was  the  Aristotelian  "first  mover,  itself  immoved." 
That  God  is  in  all  things  by  His  power,  presence,  and 
essencg  he  explicitly  maintains  against  three  forms  of  error 
regarding  the  connexion  of  God  and  the  world.  The  divine 
wiU  is  the  cause  of  all  things  past,  present,  and  to  come. 

But  the  contribution  made  by  Aquinas  consists  in  his 
theory  of  the  divine  concurrence,  by  which  he  seeks  to 
provide  a  philosophical  basis  for  Augustinianism.  The 
divine  providence  governs  all  things  by  means  x>i  two 
great  classes  of  secondary  causes,  the  necessary- cr  natural 
and  the  contingent  or  voluntary.  The  mediate  or  proxi- 
mate causes  of  all  that  takes  place  iii  the  natural  world 
are  necessary ;  the  proximate  causes  of  human  action  are 
the  voluntary  motions  of  the  will.  But  both  are  set  in 
motion  by  God,  the  First  Cause :  as  the  actings  of  natural 
causes  remain  natural,  though  they  are  moved  by  God,  so 
do  the  actings  of  voluntary  causes  remain  voluntary  though 
moved  by  God.^  But  obvioiisly  this  theory  leaves  only 
an  appearance  of  free  will.     "Free  will  is  here  reconciled 


^  **6icnt  nstnralibus  causis,  movendo  ieas,  Bon  aufert  quin  actus 
earom  sint  naturnles,  ita  movendo  cansas  voluntarias,  non  aufert  quin 
•Jctionea  earom  eint  volnntari»,  sed  potioa  hoc  in  eia  faoif* 


and  made  consistent  with  the  divine  power,  hronght  inlc 
the  same  scheme  and  theory.  But  it  is  of  itself  a  sufficient 
test  that  a  system  is  necessitarian,  that  it  maintains  the 
divine  power  in  harmony  with  free  will.  The  -will  as  an 
original  spring  of  action'  is  irreconcilable  with  the  divine 
power" — at  least  with  the  scholastic  idea  of  the  divine 
power — "  a  second  first  cause  in  nature  being  inconsistent 
with  there  being  only  one  First  Cause."  Besides,  every 
theory  of  predestination  which  bases  itself  on  the  idea  that 
God  is  the  sole  originating  and  true  cause  must  give  an' 
account  of  the  origin  of  evil.  Aquinas  recognizes  this  and 
endeavours  to  meet  the  "requirement  by  showing  (1)  that 
to  a  complete  universe  all  Hnds  of  creatures  are  requisite, 
not  only  the  highest  but  the  lowest ;  (2)  that  there  cannot 
be  a  perfect  universe  without  the  existence  of  free  will, 
but  that  this  involves  the  risk  of  evU ;  and  (3)  that  evil 
is  a  negation.  Of  these  arguments  there  are  hints  in  the 
writings  of  Augustine  and  Erigena,  and  none  of  them  is 
satisfactory,  alQiough  they  certainly  point  in  the  right 
direction. 

At  the  Reformation  the  discussion  was  drawn  back  from 
the  endeavour  initiated  by  the  schoolmen  to  find  for  the 
doctrine  of  predestination  a  scientific  basis  in  the  nature 
of  God  and  His  connexion  with  the  world.  The  moiv 
circumscribed  method  of  AuguSline  was  reverted  to,  and 
it  was  deemed,  sufficient  to  show,  that  predestination  wa."* 
indispensable  to  the  ideas  of  grace  which  found  a  response 
in  the  devout  Christian  consciousness,  and  that  it  was  Id 
harmony  with  Scripture.  Not  Only  Calvin,  but  much  mort- 
unguardedly  Luther,  and  even  Melanchthon  in  the  earliest 
(1521)  edition  of  his  Loci  Communes,  taught  the  rnost 
rigid  Augustinian  doctrine.  In  the  later  editions  (1535, 
1543)  Melanchthon  greatly  modified  his  opinions  and 
inclined  more  to  the  synergistic  view,  though  even  in  thii. 
he  was  not  thoroughgoing.  But  the  attempt  to  terminate 
the  synergistic  controversy  saddled  the  Lutherans  with 
a  symbol — the  formula  concordix — which,  awkwardly 
enough,  rejected  both,  the  Semipelagian  theory  of  co-opera- 
tion and  the  Augustinian  doctrine  of  predestination.  The 
consequence  has  been  that  later  Lutheran  theologians,  in 
their  efforts  to  purge  their  church  of  this  inconsistency, 
have  devised  the  theory  that  man,  imableas  he  is  to  will 
any  good  thing,  can  yet  use  the  means  of  grace,  and  that 
these  means  of  grace,  carrying  in  themselves  a  divine 
power,  produce  a  saving  effect  on  all  v.ho  do  not  volun- 
tarily oppose  their  influence.  .Baptism,  e.g.,  confers  grace 
which,  if  not  resisted,  is  saving.  And  Qod,  foreseeing 
who  will  and  who  will  not  resist  the  grace  offered  pre» 
destinates  to  life  aU  who  are  foreseen  as  believers. 

The  theory  of  Calvin  {Inst.,  i.  15-18;  iii. '21-24)  need 
not  be  detailed,  because  it  is  Augustinian  not  only  in  ita 
substance  but  in  the  methods  and  grounds  by  which  it  is 
sustained.^ .  Hagenbach  {Hist,  of  Doctrines,  iii.  103)  and 
others  have  indeed  asserted  that  Calvin  held  the  supra- 
lapsarian  theory,  and  in  so  far  differed  from  Augustine. 
But .  in  order  to  prove  Calvin  or  any  one  else  a  supra- 
lapsarian  it  is  not  enough  to  show  that  he  believed  that 
the  faU  was  decreed,  for  this  is  admitted  by  Augustine 
and  all  sublapsarians ;  it  must 'be  shown  that,  the  fall' 
was  decreed  as  a  means  to^vards  carrying  but  a  previout 
decree  to  save  some  and  leave  others  to  perish, — a  view  which 
Calvin  turns  from  as  an  otiosa  curiosiias.  The  supra- 
lapsarian  view  was,  however,  adopted  by  Beza  and  other 
Calvinists,  as  it  had  been  held  by  some  of  the  Augustinian 
schoolmeTi ;  and  indirectly  this  led,  to  the  reopening  of 
the  controversy  in  the  beginning  of  the  1 7th  century. 
For  it-is'said  to  have  been  the  extreme  supralapsarianism 
of  Perkins  wliich  repelled  Arminius  from  Calvinism  and 

"  Compare  Burnet,  On  the  XXXIX.  A  rtides,  and  Mozley's  A  urn-it 
Sod  I  where  thU  agreement  is  affirmed. 


P  R  E  — P  R  E 


671 


led  him  to  promulgate  the  opinions  whicli  are  known  m 
Arminianism,  and  wliich  led  to  the  summoning  of  the 
synod  of  Dort  (see  Aeminius  and  Dort).     The  canons  of 
Dort,  -while  not  definitively  exclusive  of  supralapsarianism, 
are  favourable  to  the  sublapsarian  view;  and  the  West- 
minster divines  followed  the  lead  of  Dort  in  constructing 
their  Confession  so  as  to  admit  of  signature  by  either  party. 
Meanwhile   the   Church  of  Home  had  been   torn  by 
similar  diversities  of  opinion.     The  council  of  Trent  was 
careful  not  to  offend  the  Dominicans  by  explicitly  repudi- 
ating Augustinian  doctrine.     But,  as  time  went  on,  the 
Jesuit  Molina  (q.v.)  stirred  the  sleeping  controversy  by  a 
well-meant  and  decidedly  able  attempt  to  reconcile  free 
will  and  God's  foreknowledge.     A  still  more  serious  dis- 
turbance was  created  by  the  strenuous  efforts  of  Jansen 
to  revive  the  decajring  Augustinianism   of   the  church. 
But  neither  then  nor  in  more  recent  times  has  anything 
essential  been  added  to  the  argument  on  either  side ;  and 
untiil  our  knowledge  of  the  freedom  of  the  will  becomes 
more  scientific — that   is,  more  accurate,  thorough,  and 
reliable — it  is  impossible  that  the  argument  can  advance. 
During  the  last  two  centuries  the  discussion  in  England 
has  turned  not  so  directly  on   the   truth  or  falsity  of 
Calvinism  as  upon  the  question  whether  the  Church  of 
England  Articles  are  or  are  not  Calvinistic.     This  question 
has  been  reopened  at  various  times — at  the  dismissal  of 
Baro  from  the  Margaret  professorship  at  Cambridge  at  the 
close  of  the  16th  century;  on  occasion  of  Dr  Samuel 
Clarke's  plea  for  Arian  subscription ;  in  connexion  with 
the  Wesleyan  claim  that  the  Articles  favoured  Arminianism; 
and  again,  in  this  century,  in  the  Bampton  lectures  of 
Archbishop   Lawrence.     The  arguments  which   may  be 
gathered  from  the  actual  terms  of  the  seventeenth  Article 
itself  are  very  fairly  stated  by  Bishop  Burnet,  who,  though 
himself  an  Arminian,  frankly  allows  that  Calvinists  can 
8ign  the  Article  with  less  scruple  than  Arminians,  "  since 
the  Article  does  seem  more  plainly  to  favour  them."    The 
historical  facts  regarding  the  theological  school  to  which 
the  framers  of  the  Articles  belonged  are  very  fully  given 
in  Goode's  Effects  of  Infant  Baptism}-     In  Germany,  not- 
withstanding Herder's  dismissal  of  the  subject  of  pre- 
destination with  the  curse,  "  May  the  hand  wither  that 
shall  ever  bring  it  back,"  theologians  stiU  range  them- 
selves in  opposite  camps, — Kliefoth,  Frank,  and  Sartorius 
advocating   the  Augustinian   doctrine,  -while  Thomasius, 
Hofmann,  and  Luthardt  attempt  a  middle  course. 

Lipsius  justly  observes  that  the  eolution  of  the  problem  of  pre- 
destination is  the  solution  of  the  religious  problem  in  general. 
The  Augustinian  theory  is  not  an  isolated  doctrine  which  may  bo 
accepted  or  rejected  without  any  material  alteration  of  fundamental 
lieliefs.  It  is  rather  a  deliverance  upon  the  relation  which  subsists 
between  God  and  the  world,— that  is,  upon  the  radical  problem  of 
philosophy.  No  .doubt  it  is  rather  in  a  theological  than  in  a 
philosophical  interest  that  the  subject  has  usually  been  debated. 
It  has  been  felt  that  the  Augustinian  theory  accords  better  with 
the  devout  humility  of  the  religious  spirit,  and  lays  a  sure  ground 
for  hopeful  confidence  ;  while  the  opposed  theory  is  considered  to 
be  more  likely  to  excite  human  effort  and  secure  a  more  satisfactory 
level  in  conduct,  if  not  a  higher  spiritual  condition.  Both  parties 
have  been  influenced  by  a  perhaps  somewhat  officious  zeal  for  the 
•divine  reputation,  the  one  party  oeing  concerned  to  maintain  God's 
sovereignty,  the  other  His  goodness.  Our  ignorance  of  the  divine 
nature,  and  our  inability  to  apprehend  the  subtlety  of  His  connexion 
with  the  world,  have  not  been  sufficiently  allowed  for  by  either 
party.  Is  God  the  absolute  sovereign  withoiit  whose  will  no  indi- 
-vidua!  act  is  done  f  Is  Ho  in  all  things  by  His  essence  and  will  t 
Then  the  Calvinistic  scheme  seems  alone  legitimate.  As  Calvin 
himself  argues,  if  God  has  not  absolutely  decreed  all  things,  then 
"ubi  erit  ilia  Dei  omnipotentia,  qua  secundum  arcanum  consilium, 
<juod  aliunde  non  ptntlet,  omnia  modcratur!"  (/iw.'.,  iii.  23,  7). 
And  yet,  if  God's  sovereignty  is  thus  universal,  can  the  freedom  of 
the  human  will  be  preserved  in  more  than  nameV     Is  not  t)io  world 

^  A  review  of  the  contiovcr^y  and  its  literature  will  Iw  found  in 
Cunningham's  Rrformers  nnd  T/ifotoij!/  of  l/ie  Jte/um.Kvjiyiv.;  «nd, 
on  the  other  side,  H\rdwick's  Hist,  o/ the  Articles  may  bo  contulteJ. 


of  haman  thought  and  action  reduced  to  a  mere  play  of  puppets  a 
pantheistic  sham  ?  If  God's  will  has  determined  all  that  is  to  be, 
what  real  power  of  origination  is  left  to  man  1  He  who  determines 
upon  a  certain  event  sets  in  operation  such  causes  as  will  produce 
it,  and  is  himself  its  proper  efficient  cause.  If  God  is  thus  the  real 
cause  of  all  that  is,  the  universe  would  seem  to  be  merely  God 
evolving  himself,  and  there  has  been  no  true  creation,  no  bringing 
into  being  of  wills  separate  from  His  own. 

The  grave  difficulty,  therefore,  -with  which  the  strict  doctrine  of 
predestination  has  always  to  contend  is  its  apparent  inconsistency 
with  human  accountability.  It  is  accused  generally  of  colliding  with 
human  freedom,  and  particularly  of  representing  God  as  the  author  of 
sin.  This  consequence  of  their  teaching  Calvinists  repudiate.  They 
maintain  that  by  God's  foreordination  of  whatsoever  comes  to  pass 
"violence  is  not  offered  to  the  will  of  the  creature";  and  they  have 
adopted  various  methods  of  relieving  their  doctrine  from  the  odium 
of  this  charge.  The  character  of  an  act  has  been  separated  from 
its  substance  or  actuality,  and,  while  its  character  is  ascribed  to 
man's  free  will,  its  actuality  is  referred  to  God's  sustaining  energy. 
Or  it  has  been  supposed  that  God  may  have  created  men  with  the 
power  of  originating  action,  go  that,  though  dependent  upon  God 
for  life,  yet  when  kept  in  life  men  can  act  freely.  But  this  scarcely 
meets  the  difficulty,  for  Calvinism  maintains  that  each  individual 
act  is  determined  by  God.  Others  again  prefer  to  relegate  these 
seeming  contradictions  to  the  region  of  the  unknowable,  and  to  say 
■with  Locke  :  "  I  cannot  have  a  clearer  perception  of  anything  than 
that  I  am  free,  yet  I  caunot  make  freedom  in  man  consistent  with 
omnipotence  and  omniscience  in  God,  though  I  am  as  fully  per- 
suaded of  both  as  of  any  truth  I  most  firmly  assent  to  ;  and  there- 
fore I  have  long  since  given  off  the  consideration  of  that  question, 
resolving  all  into  the  short  conclusion  that  if  it  be  possible  for  God 
to  make  a  free  agent,  then  man  is  free,  though  I  see  not  the  way 
of  it."  (M-  D.) 

PRE-EMPTION.  See  Sale. 
PRELATE.  See  Abbot  and  Bishop. 
PRELLER,  Fkeedeich  (1804-1878),  German  landscape- 
painter,  was  born  at  Eisenach  on  25th  April  1804.  After 
studying  drawing  at  Weimar,  he  went  in  1821,  on  Goethe's 
advice,  to  Dresden,  where  he  made  such  progress  that  in 
1824  he  was  invited  to  accompany  the  grand-duke  of 
Weimar  to  Belgium,  where  he  became  a  pupil  in  the 
academy  at  Antwerp.  From  1827  to  1831  he  studied  in 
Italy,  and  in  the  last-named  year  he  received  an  appoint- 
ment in  the  Weimar  school  of  art.  ■  In  1834-36  he  exe- 
cuted in  tempera  six  pictures  on  subjects  taken  from  the 
Odyssey  in  the  "Roman  House"  at  Leipsic,  in  1836-37 
the  landscapes  with  scenes  from  Oberon  in  the  Wieland 
room  in  the  grand-ducal  palace  at  Weimar,  and  in  1836- 
48  six  frescos  in  Thuringian  subjects  commissioned  by  the 
grand-duchess.  In  1840  he  visited  Norway  and  produced 
a  number  of  easel  works,  some  of  which  are  preserved  at 
Weimar.  In  1859  he  revisited  Italy,  and  on  his  return 
in  1861  he  completed  for  the  grand-ducal  museum  the 
landscapes  illustrative  of  the  Odyssey,  which  are  held  to 
constitute  his  chief  claim  to  fame,  entitling  him  to  rank 
with  Poussin  and  Claude  Lorraine  in  the  hierarchy  of 
painters.  Preller,  who  was  also  a  successftd  etcher,  died 
at  Weimar  on  23d  April  1878. 

PRELLER,  LvD-ma  (1809-1861),  author  of  well-known 
works  on  Greek  and  Roman  mythology,  was  born  at  Ham- 
burg on  15th  September  1809.  He  studied  philology  at 
Leipsic  under  Gottfried  Hermann,  at  Berlin  under  Bockh, 
and  at  Qijttingcn  under  O.  Miiller,  graduating  at  the  last- 
named  university  in  1832.  After  "  habilitating  "  as  privat- 
docent  in  Kiel,  ho  was  called  in  1838  to  an  ordinary  pro- 
fessorship at  Dorpat,  which,  however,  he  speeddy  resigned 
along  with  several  other  German  professors  in  consequence 
of  misunderstandings  with  the  Russian  governing  body. 
He  afterwards  spent  some  time  in  Italy,  but  settled  in 
Jena  in  1844,  where  ho  became  professor  in  1846.  In  the 
same  year  ho  removed  to  Weimar  as  head  librarian  and 
hofrath.  In  1853  ho  travelled  in  Greece  and  Asia  Minor. 
His  death  occurred  at  Weimar  on  2 let  June  1861. 

Preller's  chief  works  oro — Daruter  k.  f'crsfj^heme  (1837),  Gritchischt 
Mylhologic  [\iU(fh;  3d  ed.,  1872-75),  and  RUT.ntclu  Mythohriit 
(1858 ;  8d  ed.,  1878).  He  olso  co-opcrr.tod  with  H.  Hitter  in  i\.e 
preparation  of  u  Udoful  liittiria  philcxp.'ia  ^mca  tt  romanx 


672 


P  K,  E  — P  R  E 


txfoniium  locis  coniexU  (1838;  4th  ed.,  1869),  and  contribated 
extensively  to  Ersch  and  Gruber's  Allgem.  Encykl. 

PRENZLAU,  or  Prenzlow,  a  town  of  Prussia,  in  the 
province  of  Brandenburg,  lies  on  the  lower  Ucker  See,  60 
miles  north  by  east  of  Berlin  and  30  miles  west  by  south 
of  Stettin.  It  is  a  busy  little  place  with  various  branches 
of  industry,  among  the  chief  of  which  are  wool  cleaning  and 
spinning,  iron-founding,  and  sugar-refining.  A  good  deal 
of  tobacco  is  grown  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  there  is  a 
cigar  manufactory  in  the  town.  A  brisk  trade  is  carried 
on  also  in  cattle  and  grain.  The  Gothic  church  of  the 
Virgin,  dating  from  1340,  is  one  of  the  finest  churches  in 
the  district,  and  the  remains  of  the  old  town  gates  and 
walls  are  also  interesting.  In  1880  Prenzlau  contained 
16,933  inhabitants,  nearly  all  Protestants  and  many  of 
French  descent.  The  garrison  consists  of  about  800  men. 
Prenzlau  is  first  mentioned  in  a  document  of  the  close  of  the  12th 
century,  and  received  its  municipal  charter  in  1235.  As  the  capital 
of  the  old  Ucker  mark  it  was  a  frequent  object  of  dispute  between 
Pomerania  and  Brandenburg  until  finally  incorporated  with  the 
Utter  about  1480.  It  was  at  Prenzlau  that  .Prince  Hohenlohe,  with 
his  corps  of  12,000  men,  surrendered  to  Murat  on  the  retreat  after 
the  battle  of  Jena. 

PRERAU  (Slav.  Prerov),  one  of  the  oldest  towns  in 
Moravia,  lies  on  the  Beczwa,  13  miles  to  the  south-east  of 
Olmiitz.  It  is  an  important  railway  junction  and  carries 
on  a  considerable  trade.  The  chief  industries  are  sugar- 
boiling  (from  beetroot),  rope-making,  and  the  manufacture 
of  agricultural  and  other  machinery.  The  only  buildings 
of  interest  are  the  old  castle,  once  occupied  by  Matthias 
Corvinus,  and  the  Gothic  town-house.  The  population  in 
1880  was  10,985. 

PREROGATIVE,  in  law,  is  an  exclusive  privilege  of 
the  crown.  The  word,  originally  an  adjective,  is  derived 
from  the  centaria  prxrogativa,  or  century  which  voted  first 
on  a  proposed  law  \rogatio)  in  the  Roman  comitia  centuriata. 
In"  English  law,  Blackstone  says,  "  by  the  word  prerogative 
we  are  to  understand  the  character  and  power  which  the 
sovereign  hath  over  and  above  all  other  persons,  in  right 
of  his  regal  dignity  ;  and  which,  though  part  of  the  common 
law  of  the  country,  is  out  of  its  ordinary  course.  This  is 
expressed  in  its  very  name,  for  it  signifies,  in  its  etymology, 
something  that  is  required  or  demanded  before,  or  in  pre- 
ference to,  all  others;  and,  accordingly,  Finch  lays  it  down 
as  a  maxim  that  the  prerogative  is  that  law  in  the  case  of 
the  king  which  is  law  in  no  case  of  the  subject "  (Stephen's 
Gomm.,  vol.  ii.  bk.  iv.  pt.  i.  ch.  vi.).  The  prerogative  is 
sometimes  called  jura  regalia  or  regalia,  the  regalia  being 
either  majora,  the  regal  dignity  and  power,  or  minora,  the 
revenue  of  the  crown.  The  word  "prerogative"  is  used  to 
denote  the  whole  privilege  of  the  crown  or  any  part  of  it ; 
in  the  latter  sense  it  may  be  used  in  the  plural  number. 

The  theory  of  English  law  as  to  the  prerogative  of  the 
king  seems  to  be  not  quite  consistent.  On  the  one  hand, 
he  is  a  perfect  and  irresponsible  being,  holding  his  ofiice 
by  divine  Hght ;  "Victoria,  by  the  grace  of  God  of  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland  Queen,"'  is  still  the  heading  of  every 
writ.  On  the  other  hand,  his  powers  are  defined  and 
limited  by  law.  This  is  laid  down  as  early  as  the  13th 
century  :  "  Rex  non  debet  esse  sub  homine  sed  sub  Deo 
et  sub  lege,  quia  lex  facit  regem  "  (Bracton,  5b), — a  strik- 
ing contrast  to  the  rule  of  Roman  law,  "quod  principi 
placuit  legis  habet  vigorem."  A  consequence  of  this  posi- 
tion is  that  the  prerogative  may  be  confined  or  extended 
by  the  supreme  legislative  authority,  and  that  the  courts 
have  jurisdiction  to  decide  whether  or  not  any  alleged  right 
falls  v/ithin  the  prerogative.  The  prerogative  of  the  crown, 
still  of  great  extent,  has  been  gradually  limited  by  a  long 
*  There  is  no  difference  in  the  prerogative  as  exerciser  by  a  king  or 
a  queen  regnant,  so  that  the  word  "king"  in  its  constitutional  sense 
includes  (Jiieen.  That  the  queen  regnant  has  the  same  rights  as  a 
)ang  was  declared  by  1  Mary  sess.  3,  c.  1. 


series   of  enactments,  the  most  worthy  of  notice  being 
Magna  Carta,  Confirmatio  Cartarum,  Prerogativa  Regis, 
the  Petition  of  Right,  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act,  the  Bill  of 
Rights,  and  the  Act  of  Settlement.    (See  England.  )    'Where 
a  prerogative  was  abolished  by  statute,  in  some  instances 
compensation  was  granted  in  return  for  the  surrender,  in 
others  no  compensation  was  given.     An  example  of  tho 
former  is  the  statute  12  Car.  II.  c.  24,  by  which  excise 
duties  were  granted  to  the  crown  in  return  for  the  aboli- 
tion of  military  tenures  and  their  incidents ;  of  the  latter, 
the  statute  16  Car.  I.  c.  20,  abolishing  the  prerogative  of 
imposing  comptilsory  knighthood  or  a  fine  in  its  place. 
The  prerogative  has  also  been  limited  by  judicial  decision 
and  by  tacit  abandonment.     Thus  monopolies  were  de- 
clared illegal  (in  the  respectful  language  of  ^he  judges  the. 
queen  was  held  to  have  been  deceived  in  her  grant)  in  the 
reign  of  Elizabeth  by  The  Case  of  Monopolies  (11   Coke's 
Reports,  84),  and  the  right  to  exclude  a  member  from  par-        y 
liament  was  abandoned  by  the  same  queen  in  157.1.     The        ■ 
most  important  of  the  obsolete  prerogatives,  other  than 
those  named,  which  have  been  at  one  time  claimed  and 
exercised  are  the  following.     (1)  The  right  to  impose  a  tax 
upon  the  subject  without  the  consent  of  parliament  was  thei 
subject  of  contest  for  centuries.    Sums  were  raised  at  various 
times  under  the  names  of  talliage,  scutage,  hydage,  subsidies, 
aids,  benevolences,  tonnage  and  poundage,  tolls,  ship-money, 
tenths,  fifteenths,  &c.     (2)  The  right  to  dispense  with  tho 
obligation  of  statutes,  by  the  insertion  in  a  grant  of  the 
clause  non  obstante  s'atuto,  was  -  frequently  asserted  by  the 
crown  down  to  the  Revolution.     An  end  was  finally  put 
to  this  and  the  last  right  by  the  BiU  of  Rights.     (3)  The 
right  of  purveyance  and  pre-emption — that  is,  of  buying  up 
provisions  at  a  valuation  without  the  consent  of  the  owner 
— and  the  right  of  impressing  carriages  and  horses  were 
finaUy  abolished  by  12  Car.  II.  c.  24.     (4)  The  authority 
to  erect  tribunals  not  proceeding  according  to  the  ordinary 
course  of  justice  was  declared  illegal  by  16  Car.  I.  c.  10 
(the  Act  dissolving  the  Star  Chamber,  the  court  of  the 
marches  of  Wales,  and  the  court  of  the  president  and 
council  of  the  north).     (5)  The  revenue  from  first-fruits 
and  tenths,  annexed  to  the  crown  by  Henry  VIII.,  was 
vested  by  Queen  Anne  in  trustees  for  the  augmentation  of 
poor  benefices,   2   and   3   Anne  c.   11.     This  is  what  is 
usuaUy  called  "Queen  Anne's  bounty."     (6)  The  right  of 
corody— that  is,  of  sending  one  of  the  royal  chaplains  to  be 
"maintained  by  a  bishop  until  the  bishop  promotes  him  to 
a  benefice— has  become  obsolete  by  disuse.     (7)  'The  right 
by  forfeiture  to  the  property  of  a  convict  upon  his  convic- 
tion for  treason  or  felony  was  abolished  by  the  Felony  Act, 
1870.     (8)  The  immunity  of  the  crown  from  payment  of 
costs  has  been  taken  away  in  almost  all  cases.    The  crown 
is  liable  to  co^s  in  revenue  cases  by  18  and  19  Vict.  c. 
90,  in  petitions  of  right  by  23  and  24  Vict.  c.  34.     (9) 
The  right  to  alienate  crown  lands  by  grant  at  pleasure  was 
taken  away  by  1  Anne  c.  8,  passed  in  consequence  of  the 
improvident  alienations  of  land  by  William  III.     In  very 
few  cases  has  the  prerogative  been  extended  by  statute ; 
34  and  35  Vict.  c.  86  is  an  example  of  such  extension. 
By.  that  Act  the  jurisdiction  of  lords-lieutenant  of  counties 
over  the  auxiliary  forces  was  revested  in  the  crown. 

The  prerogative  may  be  exercised  in  person  or  by  dele- 
gation. The  prerogative  of  conferring  honours  is  generally 
(though  not  necessarily)  exercised  by  the  kh.„  in  person, 
as  in  the  case  of  investment  with  knighthood  and  military 
or  civil  decorations.  The  delegation  of  the  prerogative 
often  takes  place  by  commission,  issued  with  or  without  a 
joint  address  from  both  Houses  of  parliament.  An  ex- 
ample of  a  commission  issued  on  a  joint  address  is  tho 
commission  to  inquire  into  the  existence  of  corrupt  prac- 
tices after  an  election  (15  and  16  Vict.  e.  57).     In  most 


PREROGATIVE 


673 


cases  a  commission  is  issued  by  the  prerogative  alone  Tvith- 
out  any  address  from  parliament ;  thus  the  assent  of  the 
crown  to  a  Bill  may  be  given  by  commission,  and  rights  of 
command  may  be  granted  by  commission  to  officers  in  the 
army  and  navy.  The  delegation  of  the  prerogative  in  judi- 
cial matters  is  illiistrated  by  commissions  of  the  peace  and 
commissions  of  assize.  The  prerogative  may  still  further 
be  delegated  by  a  delegate ;  thus  commissions  of  lunacy 
are  and  commissions  of  bankruptcy  were  issued  by  the  lord 
chancellor  as  the  representative  of  the  crown.  Parts  of 
the  prerogative — generally  in  the  nature  of  profit,  and  so 
in  derogation  of  the  reveaue  of  the  crown — may  be  con- 
ferred upon  subjects  by  grant  in  letters  patent,  which  will 
be  presumed  after  enjoyment  by  the  subject  for  a  certain 
time.  What  in  the  king  is  a  prerogative  becomes  a  fran- 
chise in  the  subject,  e.y.,  chases,  warrens,  wrecks,  treasure- 
trove,  courts-leet. 

The  existing  preroratives  may  be  divided,  with  Blackstone,  into 
snch  as  are  direct  and  such  as  are  by  way  of  exception  ;  or  perhaps 
better,  with  Chief  Baron  Corayns,  into  those  affecting  external 
relations  and  those  affecting  internal  relations.  Under  the  first 
class  would  fall  the  power  of  making  war  and  concluding  peace. 
As  incidents  to  this  power  the  king  has  the  right  of  sending  and 
receiving  ambassadors,  of  concluding  treaties,  and  of  granting  pass- 
ports, safe-conducts,  letters  of  marque,  and  reprisals.  These  rights 
may  be  limited  by  international  agreement ;  thus  the  Declaration 
of  Paris,  1856,  abolished  privateering  as  far  as  the  assenting  jiations 
(of  whom  Great  Britain  was  one)  were  concerned. 

The  prerogatives  affecting  internal  relations  may  be  conveniently, 
if  not  scientifically,  classified  as  personal,  political,  judicial,  ecolesi- 
BStical,  and  fiscal. 

Personal.  — In  order  that  there  may  always  be  an  existing  head 
of  the  state  the  king  is  regarded  as  a  corporation.  He  cannot  die  ; 
there  can  be  only  a  demise  of  the  crown, — that  is,  a  transfer  of  the 
royal  authority  to  a  different  person.  On  the  same  principle  the 
king  cannot  be  under  age,  though  in  cases  where  the  king  has  been 
of  tender  years  a  protector  or  regent  has  usually  been  appointed 
for  administrative  purposes.  The  king  is  personally  irresponsible 
for"  crime  or  tort,  it  being  an  ancient  common  law  maxim  that  the 
king  can  do  no  wrong,  and  that  any  injury  suffered  by  a  subject  at 
the  hands  of  the  king  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  piistake  of  his 
advisers.  A  curious  coijseq«ence  of  this  irresponsibility  is  that  the 
king  is  apparently  the  only  person  in  the  realm  who  cannot  under 
any  circumstances  arrest  a  suspected  felon,  for  no  action  for  false 
imprisonment  would  lie  against  him,  and  in  the  event  of  the  arrest 
of  an  innocent  person,there  would  bo  a  wrong  without  a  remedy.  He 
cannot  be  guilty  of  laches  or  negligence.  The  maxim  of  tho  common 
law  is  "Nullum  tempijs  occurrit  regi."  This  is  still  tho  law  in 
criminal  matters.  With  a  very  few  exceptions,  such  as  prosecutions 
for  treason  and  offences  against  tho  customs,  no  lapse  of  time  will 
in  England  (though  it  is  otherwise  in  Scotland)  bar  tho  right  of  tho 
crown  to  prosecute.  In  civil  matters  tho  crown  is  barred  of  its 
right  in  suits  relating  to  land  by  the  lapse  of  sixty  years  (9  Geo. 
III.  c.  16).  The  king  is  exempt  from  taxation  on  the  gri'ind 
that,  as  tho  revenue  of  the  realm  is  his  prerogative,  it  is  useless  for 
him  to  tax  himself.  But  lands  purchased  by  tho  privy  purse  are 
Kable  to  taxation  (39  and  40  Geo.  III.  c.  88,  b.  6J.  He  is  also 
exempt  from  tolls  (which  can  only  exist  as  a  franchise  granted  by 
him),  aud  from  tho  poor-rate,  as  he  is  not  mentioned  in  tho  Poor 
Law  Acts.  His  person  cannot  be  arrested,  or  his  goods  distrained 
or  taken  in  execution.  The  privilege  of  exemption  from  taxation 
applies  to  his  palaces  and  to  the  public  buildings  of  the  state.  No 
kind  of  judicial  process  can  bo  executed  in  a  palace  as  long  as  it 
continues  to  bo  a  royal  residence.  Tho  privilege  docs  not  attach 
to  palaces  which  the  king  has  ceased  to  use  as  a  dwelling,  such  as 
Hampton  Court,  with  tho  one  exception  of  Holyrood  House,  with 
the  precincts,  which  still  affords  a  sanctuary  from  civil  process.  It 
does  not,  however,  protect  criminals  or  crown  debtors.  The  king 
has  also  several  personal  privileges  of  minor  importance,  such  as 
the  title  of  "  majesty,"  the  right  to  a  royal  salute,  to  the  use  of  tho 
royal  standard  and  of  special  liveries,  &c. 

Political. — Tlio  king  is  the  supreme  executive  and  co-ordinato 
legislative  authority.  As  such  authority  he  has  tho  attribute  of 
sovereignty '  or  pre-eminence,  and  tho  right  to  tho  allegiance  of  his 
subjects.  All  land  is  mediately  or  immediately  held  of  him  (see 
Land).  Land  derelict  suddenly  by  the  sea,  land  newly  discovered 
by  Bubjecta,  and  islands  arising  in  the  sea  are  his.  As  paramount 
authority  in  parliament  he  can  dissolve  or  prorogue  it  at  pleasure, 
but  cannot  prolong  it  beyond  seven  years.     In  theoryparliament 

'  The  word  "  sovereign  "  is  frequently  applied  to  the  king  in  legal 
works.  It  Bhould  be  borne  in  mind  at  tlio  snino  time  tlint  tlio  king  is 
not  a  sovereign  in  the  strict  sense  in  which  tho  term  is  used  by  Austin. 


only  exists  at  his  will,  for  it  is  summoned  by  his  writ,  and  the 
vote  for  a  member  of  parliament  is  only  a  franchise,  not  a  right 
existing  independently  of  his  grant.  He  can  refuse  his  assent 
to  a  BiU  passed  by  the  Houses  of  parliament.  This  right  has, 
however,  not  been  exercised  since  1707,  when  Queen  Anne  re- 
fused the  royal  assent  to  a  Scottish  Militia  Bill.  The  king  has 
power  to  issue  proclamations  and  (with  tho  assent  of  the  privy 
council)  orders  in  council,  in  some  cases  as  part  of  the  ancient  pre- 
rogative, in  others  under  the  provisions  of^an  Act  of  parliament. 
Proclamations  are  only  binding  so  far  as  they  are  founded  upon  and 
enforce  the  laws  of  the  realm.  .  They  cannot  alter  the  common  law 
or  create  a  new  offence.  By  31  Hen.  VIII.  c.  8  it  was  enacted 
that  the  king's  proclamations  should,  under  certain  conditions, 
have  the  force  of  Acts  of  parliament,  but  this  Act  was  repealed  by 

I  Edw.  VI.  c.  12.  The  king  is  not  in  general  bound  by  an  Act  of 
parliament  unless  named  therein.  He  can,  by  virtue  of  his  supreme 
executive  authority,  recall  a  subject  from  abroad,  or  forbid  his  leav- 
ing the  realm  by  the  writ  of  ne  exeat  regno.  This  writ  at  the  pre- 
sent day  is  not  used  for  state  purposes,  but  merely  to  prevent  a 
party  to  an  action  from  going  abroad.  To  order  aliens  to  leave  the 
realm  is  apparently  a  matter  not  falUng  within  the  prerogative,  as, 
where  such  a  course  is  necessary,  an  "Act  of  parliament  is  passed  ; 

II  and  12  Vict.  c.  20  is  an  instance  of  such  an  Act  passed  for  a 
temporary  purpose.  The  right  of  the  crown  to  grant  letters  of 
denization  to  aliens  is  preserved  by  33  and  34  Vict.  c.  14,  8.  13.  The 
king  is  the  fountain  of  honour  ;  as  such  he  has  the  valuable  power 
of  granting  peerages  at  will,  so  far  as  he  is  not  Restrained  by  any 
Act  of  parliament,  and  so  far  as  he  keeps  within  certain  constitu- 
tional limits,  e.g.,  he  cannot  insert  a  shifting  clause  in  a  patent  of 
peerage.  He  also  confers  all  other  titles  of  honour,  whether  here- 
ditary or  not,  and  grants  precedence  and  armorial  bearings.  The 
great  officers  of  state  are  appointed  by  the  king.  The  only  restric- 
tion upon  the  creation  of  ofBces  is  that  he  cannot  create  new  offices 
with  new  fees  attached  to  them,  or  annex  new  fees  to  old  offices, 
for  this  would  be  to  impose  a  tax  upon  the  subject  without  an  Act 
of  parliament.  The  king,  as  head  of  the  state,  is  in  supreme  com- 
mand of  the  army  and  navy  for  the  defence  of  the  realm.  This 
right,  contested  by  the  Lon^  Parliament,  was  finally  declared  by  13 
Car.  II.  c.  6  to  be  in  the  king  alone.  All  supplies  for  the  mainte- 
nance of  the  army  and  navy  are  voted  annually  so  that  it  is  prac- 
tically impossible  for  the  king  to  use  his  position  to  the  detriment 
of  the  state.  The  army  is  an  annual  institution,  the  Army  Act  of 
each  session  (which  corresponds  to  the  Mutiny  Act  passed  annually 
up  to  1978)  reciting  the  provision  of  the  Bill  of  Eights,  "that  the 
raising  or  keeping  a  standing  army  within  the  kingdom  in  time  of 
peace,  unless  it  be  with  consent  of  parliament,  is  against  law." 
The  right  of  command  carries  with  it  as  an  incident  the  right  to 
buUd  forts  and  defences,  to  impress  seamen  in  case  of  necessity,  aud 
to  prohibit  the  importation  of  munitions  of  war  (39  and  40  Vict  c. 
36,  8.  43),  also  the  right  to  the  soil  of  the  foreshore  and  of  estuaries 
of  rivers,  and  the  jurisdiction  over  teiTitorial  waters.  (See  Navi- 
gation Laws.  )  Other  rights  which  fall  under  the  political  branch 
of  the  prerogative  may  be  called  the  commercial  nghts,  including 
the  coining  of  money,  the  regiilating  of  weights  and  measures,  the 
establishing  of  markets  and  fairs,  and  the  erecting  of  beacons, 
lighthouses,  and  sea-marks.  The  king  also  has  the  power  of  con- 
stituting corporations.  A  royal  grant  to  inhabitants  makes  them  a 
corporation  tor  the  purposes  of  the  grant.  The  king  is  presumed 
to  be  tho  visitor  of  all  civil  corporations.  As  parens  palrim  he  is 
ex  officio  guardian  of  infants,  idiots,  and  lunatics.  It  is  scarcely 
necessary  to  point  out  that  all  these  prerogatives  (except  the  con- 
ferring of  honours  and  such  prerogatives  as  ar-  purely  personal)  arc 
exercised  through  responsible  ministers,  practically  in  these  days 
members  of  the  party  to  which  the  majority  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons belongs.  Thus  the  jurisdiction  over  infants,  &c,  is  exorcised 
in  England  by  the  lord  chancellor,  and  over  beacons,  kc,  by  tho 
Trinity  House,  under  the  general  superintendence  of  the  Board  of 
Trade. 

Judicial. — The  king  is  the  fountain  of  justice,  and  the  supreme 
conservator  of  tho  peace  of  tho  realm.  "  By  tho  fountain  of  justice," 
as  has  been  well  said  by  Blackstone,  "  the  law  does  not  nioar  tl.o 
author  or  original,  but  only  tlio  distributor.  Justice  is  not  derived 
froni  the  sovereign,  as  from  his/r«  gift ;  but  ho  is  tho  steward  of 
the  public,  to  dispense  it  to  whom  it  is  due.  Ho  is  not  the  spring, 
but  tho  reservoir,  from  whence  right  and  equity  aro  conducted,  by 
a  thousand  channels,  to  every  individual  "  (Stephen's  Comm.,  vol.  ii. 
bk.  iv.  pt.  i.  ch.  vi. ).  Tho  king  was  bound  to  tho  observance  of 
justice  by  tho  well-known  words  of  Magna  Carta,  "Nulli  ven- 
dumus,  nulli  nogabimiis  aut  diffeienuis,  rectum  aut  justiciam."  As 
supreme  judge  the  king  has  tho  appointment  of  all  judicial  officers 
(other  than  those  in  certain  local  courts),  who  act  as  his  deputies. 
Ho  may  constitute  legal  courts  for  tho  administration  of  tho  general 
law  of  the  land,  but  no  cannot  erect  tribunals  not  proceeding  ac- 
cording to  tho  known  and  established  law  of  tho  realm,  sucli  as 
tho  Stnr  Chamber  (see  above)  or  the  commissions  of  martial  law 
forbidden  by  tho  Petition  of  Right  Nor  can  he  add  to  tho  juiis 
diction  of  courts  ;  thui  he  cannot  give  a  spiritual  court  temporal 

XIX.  —  8 1; 


674 


P  R  E  — P  R  E 


powers.  In  tarly  times  the  kings  sat  in  person  in  the  curia  regis. 
The  growth  of  a  permanent  judicature  seems  to  be  due  to  the 
increase  of  judicial  business,  making  it  impossible  for  the  king  to 
hear  all  the  suits  in  the  curia  regis  in  person.  Appeals  from  the 
colonics,  the  Channel  Islands,  and  the  Isle  of  5Ian  still  lie  to  the 
crown  in  council,  a  jurisdiction  now  practically  exercised  by  the 
judicial  committee  of  the  privy  council.  The  king  is  still  (or  was 
until  very  recently)  in  theory  present  in  court.  Actions  in  the 
Queen's  Bench  were  until  modern  times  said  to  be  coram  rege  ipso, 
and  the  king  could  not  be  non-suited,  for  a  non-suit  implied  the 
non-appearance  of  the  plaintiff  in  court.  The  king  enforces  judg- 
ment by  means  of  the  sheriff,  \yho  represents  the  executive  authority. 
As  supreme  conservator  of  the  peace,  the  king,  through  the  lord- 
lieutenant  in  counties  and  through  the  lord  chancellor  in  cities 
and  boroughs,  appoints  justices  of  the  peace.  In  the  same  capacity 
he  is  the  prosecutor  of  crimes.  All  indictments  still  conclude  with 
the  words  "against  the  peace  of  our  lady  the  Queen,  her  crown 
and  dignity."  As  it  is  the  king's  peace  that  is  broken  by  the 
corami-ssion  of  a  crime,  the  king  has,  as  the  offended  party,  the 
power  of  remission.  The  king  cannot  be  sued  by  ordinary  action. 
He  may  sue  by  ordinary  action,  but  he  has  the  advantage  of  being 
able  to  use  prerogative  procSss  (see  below).  He  has  the  right  of 
intervention  in  all  litigation  where  his  rights  are  concerned,  or  in 
the  interests  of  public  justice,  as  where  collusion  is  alleged  between 
the  decree  nisi  and  the  decree  absolute  in  divorce.  Cro\vn  debts 
have  priority  in  administration  and  bankruptcy. 

Ecclesiastical. — The  king  is  recognized  as  head  of  the  church  by 
26  Hen.  VIII.  c.  1  and  1  Eliz.  c.  1.  By  this  prerogative  he  con- 
venes and  dissolves  convocation  and  nominates  to  vacant  bishop- 
rics and  other  ecclesiastical  preferments.  He  is  also  guardian  of  the 
temporalities  during  the  vacancy  of  a  see,  but  this  is  now  merely 
a  nominal  prerogative.  The  dean  and  chapter  of  a  cathedral  can- 
not proceed  to  the  election  of  a  bishop  without  the  king's  per- 
mission to  elect  (congi  d'ilire).  When  any  benefice  is  vacant  by 
the  promotion  of  the  incumbent  to  a  bishopric  other  than  a  colonial 
bishopric  the  king  has  the  patronage  pro  hac  vice.  He  is  the 
supreme  court  of  appeal  in  ecclesiastical  cases.  This  appellate 
jurisdiction  is  now  vested  in  the  judicial  committee  of  the  privy 
council,  with  the  assistance  of  archbishops  and  bishops  as  assessors 
(39  and  40  Vict.  c.  59,  s.  14).  The  king  cannot  create  new  ecclesi- 
astical jurisdiction  in  England  or  in  colonies  other  than  crown 
colonies.  (See  Bishop.)  Where  a  new  bishopric  is  created  it  is 
under  the  powers  of  an  Act  of  parliament.  It  seems  to  be  as  head 
of  the  church  that  the  king  grants  licences  to  hold  in  mortmain, 
though  the  right  now  extends  to  lay  as  well  as  ecclesiastical  corpora- 
tions.    The  right  is  acknowledged  by  7  and  8  Will.  III.  c.  37. 

Fiscal. — The  theory  of  the  constitution  is  that  the  king,  being 
entrusted  with  the  defence  of  the  realm  and  the  administration  of 
justice,  must  have  sufficient  means  given  him  for  the  purpose. 
The  bulk  of  the  revenue  of  the  Norman  and  Plantagenet  kings  was 
derived  from  crown  lauds  and  feudal  dues.  At  the  present  day  the 
rents  of  cro\vn  lands  foim  a  very  small  part  of  the  revenue,  and  the 
feudal  dues  do  not  exist  except  in  the  pecuniarily  unimportant 
cases  of  escheat,  royal  fish,  wrecks,  treasure-trove,  waifs  and  strays, 
kc.  Of  the  revenue  a  comparatively  small  part  (the  civil  list)  is 
paid  to  the  king  in  person,  the  rest  (the  consolidated  fund)  is 
applied  to  public  purposes. 

Prerogative  process.  ■ — This  is  the  name  given  to  certain  methods 
of  procedure  which  the  croivn  alone  has  the  right  of  using  ;  such 
are  inquest  of  office  (an  inqiiiry  by  jury  concerning  the  right  of  the 
crown  to  land,  or  woods),  extent  (a  mode  of  execution),  scire  facias 
(for  tlie  resuniptiou  of  a  grant),  and  information  (by  which  pro- 
ceedings are  commenced  in  the  name  of  the  attorney-general  for  a 
public  wrong  or  for  injury  to  crown  property). 

Prerogative  Writs. — Certain  writs  are  called  "prerogative  writs," 
as  distinguished  from  wiits  of  right,  because  it  is  within  the  pre- 
rogative to  issue  or  reissue  them.  In  order  to  induce  the  court  to 
issue  them  a  prima  facie  case  must  bo  made  out  by  the  applicant. 
Writs  of  right,  on  the  other  hand,  are  ex  dcbito  jiLstitite,  and  cannot 
be  refused.  Examples  of  prerogative  writs  are  certiorari,  habeas 
corpus,  mandamus,  procedendo,  prohibition,  guo  warranto. 

Prerogative  Courts. — This  was  the  name  given  to  the  provincial 
courts  of  Canterbury  and  York,  as  far  as  regarded  their  jurisdiction 
over  the  estates  of  deceased  persons.  They  had  jurisdiction  to 
gi'ant  probate  or  administration  where  the  diocesan  courts  could 
not  entertain  the  case  owing  to  tho  deceased  having  died  possessed 
of  goods  abovft  the  value  of  £5  {bona  notabilia)  in  each  of  two  or 
more  dioceses.  The  jurisdiction  of  the  prei'ogative  courts  was 
transferred  to  the  Court  of  Probate  in  1357  by  20  and  21  A'ict.  c.  77, 
and  is  now  vested  in  the  Probate,  Divorce,  and  Admiralty  Division 
of  the  High  Court  of  Justice  by  the  Judicature  Act,  1873  "(36  and  37 
Vict.  c.  66,  s.  34). 

In  the  State  of  New  Jersey,  United  States,  the  court  having  juris- 
diction over  probate  matters  is  called  the  Prerogative  Court  (Kent's 
Vomm.,  vol.  ii.  p.  427). 

Besides  the  aii'horities  cited  and  the  writers  on  cnnstitutional  history,  the 
rwuler  ia  referred  to  Allen,  Inquiry  into  the  Rise  and  Growth  of  tht  Kvyat  Pr^- 


rogalive  in  England  ;  Chitty,  The  Prtrngaiive  cfthe  Crown  ;  Rtaunforde,  Expwi. 
tion  of  the  Jiittg's  Prerogative  ;  Comyna,  Digest,  art.  "  Fnerogative"  ;  Broom, 
Constitutional  Lavi.  (J.  Wf.) 

PRESBYTER.  Towards  the  end  of  the  2d  century  the 
organization  of  the  Christian  congregations  throughout 
the  Roman  empire,  at  least  of  all  the  greater  ones,  waa 
identical.  At  the  head  of  each  was  the  bishop,  whose 
function  it  was  to  conduct  public  worship,  control  the 
church  funds,  and  keep  watch  over  the  manners  of  his 
flock.  The  free  prophets  and  teachers  having  almost 
everywhere  died  out,  the  duty  of  religious  instruction  and 
edification  also  fell  on  him.  In  conducting  the  worship 
and  in  ministering  to  the  wants  of  the  poor  he  was  assisted 
by  the  deacons  as  his  subordinates.  The  presbyters  formed 
a  college,  whose  business  was  that  of  advising  the  bishop. 
Of  this  college  he  was  the  president,  and  as  such  he  was 
himself  a  presbyter,  and  conversely  the  presbytery,  in- 
clusive of  the  bishop,  formed  the  governing  body  of  the 
community.!  Outside  of  the  presbj^eiy  the  individual 
presbyter  as  such  had  no  definite  ofiicial  duties.  If  he 
baptized,  celebrated  the  eucharist,  preached,  or  the  like, 
this  was  only  as  commissioned  and  deputed  by  the  bishop.^ 
Such  deputation  was  frequently  necessary,  and  therefore 
the  presbyter  behoved  as  far  as  possible  to  be  qualified  to 
teach.  As  member  of  the  college,  which  before  everything 
had  to  do  with  jurisdiction  and  discipline,  it  was  required 
of  him  that  he  should  be  of  blameless  life,  that  he  should 
administer  just  judgment  without  respect  of  persons,  and 
that  in  private  life  also  he  should  as  occasion  offered  exhort 
and  admonish  the  faithful  and  set  before  them  the  law  of 
God.  The  presbyters,  who  as  a  rule  were  expected  to  be 
men  of  advanced  years,  were,  like  the  bishop  and  the 
deacons,  chosen  by  the  congregation.  Their  number  was 
unrestricted,  but  there  were  small  communities  in  which 
they  did  not  exceed  three  or  even  two.  In  rank  they 
were  above  the  deacons,  but  below  the  bishop,  yet  in  such 
a  way  that  the  bishop  could  call  them  his  "  co-presbyters." ' 
As  the  bishop  was  not  unfrequently  chosen  from  among 
the  deacons,  even  although  in  many  congregations  it  may 
have  been  the  case  that  the  office  was  invariably  bestowed 
on  presbyters,  and  as  the  deacons  stood  in  closer  personal 
relation  with  the  bishop  than  the  presbyters,  cases  of 
invasion  of  the  rights  of  the  latter  by  the  former  began  to 
occur  from  an  early  period.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
at  the  end  of  the  2d  century  all  presbyters  were  elected 
office-bearers,  but  the  way  in  which  Irenacus  speaks  makes 
it  quite  clear  that  at  an  earlier  date  "presbyter"  was  also 
a  title  of  honour  borne  by  worthy  and  prominent  persons 
in  the  congregations,  who,  in  virtue  of  their  advanced 
years,  were  witnesses  for  the  purity  of  tradition.  Irenasus, 
frequently  speaking  (as  he  does)  of  bishops  simply  as 
"presbyters,"  also  proves  that  there  must  have  been  a 
time  in  which  the  bishop  as  member  of  the  "  S3rnedrium  " 
of  the  church  cannot  have  held  a  higher  position  than 
the  other  members  of  this  college. 

Tracing  the  history  upwards  from  Irenaeua,  we  find  in 
the  Epistles  of  Ignatius,  which  may  be  assigned  perhaps 
to  about  140,  the  presbyters  holding  essentially  the  same 

'  TertnlL,  Apol.,  39:  "  Prsesidcnt probati quique  seniores,  honoreic 
istuiu  non  pretio  sed  tesliraonio  adepti." 

"  TertuU.,  De  Bapt.,  17  :  "  Baptismi  dandi  habet  jus  summas  sacer- 
dos,  qui  est  episcopus ;  dehinc  presbyteri  .  .  .  non  tamen  sine  episcopl 
auctoritate."  In  the  oldest  constitution  of  the  Catholic  Church  which 
lias  come  down  to  us  relating  to  presbyters  a  regular  service  of  some 
presbyters  in  public  worship  is  indeed  presupposed  (Kavoves  ^kkXtj- 
(TiaoT.  T.  ay.  atroffrbXtjiv,  c.  18),  but  this  fact  is  unique  of  its  kind. 

^  Compare  the  regulations  laid  down  in  the  Arabic  text  of  the 
Cajiones  Ilippolyti  (c.  4) :  "At  the  ordination  of  a  presbyter  every- 
thing is  to  be  done  as  in  the  case  of  a  bishop,  save  tliat  he  does  not 
seat  himself  upon  the  throne.  The  same  prayer  also  sh.all  be  said  as 
for  a  bishop,  the  name  of  bishop  only  being  left  out.  The  presbyter 
shall  in  .ill  things  be  equal  with  the  bishop  save  in  the  matters  of  prd- 
aiding  and  ordaining,  for  the  power  to  ordain  is  not  given  bim." 


PRESBYTER 


675 


position  as  they  have  at  the  end  of  the  century.  With 
Ignatius  also  the  presbyters  come  into  account  only  as  a 
college ;  according  to  him  they  constitute  a  senate,  as  it 
were ;  he  compares  them  to  the  college  of  the  apostles, 
hut  gives  great  prominence  to  their  subordination  under 
the  bishop,  whom  he  likens  to  our  Lord  Himself.  Except 
in  the  Ignatian  Epistles,  however,  one  finds  the  presbyters 
holding  a  different  position  within  the  Christian  commu- 
nities of  the  period  from  90  to  140.  This  is  not  at  all 
surprising,  for  there  was  not  at  that  time  any  rigid  and 
Jiiiform  organization  of  the  congregations  at  all ;  as  yet 
no  one  bishop  stood  at  the  head  of  each  congregation,  and 
as  yet  the  church  constitution  was  not  determined  by 
the  idea  of  office  alone,  that  of  charismata  (spiritual  gifts) 
still  having  wide  scope  alongside  of  the  other.  Church 
organization  was  still  influenced  by  a  variety  of  ways  of 
looking  at  the  question — ways  which  sometimes  crossed 
each  other,  and  from  the  combination  of  which  it  cannot 
be  doubted  that  a  variety  of  constitutions  resulted.  We 
are  not  in  a  position  to  give  a  complete  view  of  these,  the 
historical  material  being  insufficient,  but  points  of  leading 
importance  can  be  established.  Before  all  it  is  of  conse-' 
quence  to  recognize  that  in  the  congregations  a  threefold 
organization  had  place.  (1)  The  duty  of  edifying  and  of 
preaching  the  gospel  was  not  yet  attached  to  an  office  but 
to  a  charisma.  "  Service  in  the  word  "  was  the  business  of 
apostles,  prophets,  and  teachers  who  had  been  awakened 
by  the  Spirit  and  by  the  Spirit  endowed.  These  were  the 
■jy-yoi'/icvot  in  the  congregations;  they  alone  in  the  first 
instance  form  the  class  of  persons  entitled  to  honour  in 
Christendom  ;  they  never  belonged  to  any  one  congregation 
exclusively,  but  were  held  to  be  "organs  of  the  Spirit," 
given  by  God  to  the  whole  church.  (2)  In  so  far  as  each 
local  church  embraced  a  system  of  higher  and  lower 
functions — each  was  indeed  a  little  world  to  itself — ^it 
possessed  a  governing  body  (otKovo/ioi).  For  the  care  of 
the  poor,  for  worship,  for  correspondence, — in  a  word,  for 
its  "  economy,"  in  the  widest  sense  of  that  word,  the  con- 
gregation needed  controlling  officials.  These  were  the 
bishop  and  the  deacons, — the  former  for  higher,  the  latter 
for  inferior  services ;  they  owed  their  official  position  to 
the  congregation,  and  in  the  nature  of  their  offices  there 
was,  strictly  speaking,  nothing  which  could  have  laid  the 
foundation  of  any  special  rank  or  exaltation.  Many  of 
the  functions  discharged  by  them  nevertheless  had  the 
result  of  making  the  post  of  a  bishop  a  very  influential 
one  (charge  of  the  worship,  control  of  the  funds),  and 
in  so  far  as  their  service  rested  upon  a  charisma  (xapiafjt.a 
Tij?  dvTiX.iijiJ.xj/eui's)  a  certain  inner  relation  between  them 
and  the  teachers  endowed  with  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  was 
established.  (3)  In  so  far  as  the  individual  congregation 
"was  an  actual  organism  in  which  the  varieties  of  age,  of 
sex,  of  experience,  of  manner  of  life,  and  of  ethical  culture 
continued  to  exist  and  which  hiid  to  bo  admonished,  dis- 
eiplincd,  and  heeded,  it  from  the  nature  of  the  case  divided 
itself  into  leaders  and  led,  a  distinction  which  would  assert 
itself  in  every  sphere  of  the  congregation's  activities.  The 
leaders  were,  as  might  be  expected,  the  "  elders  "  (oi  7rp«T- 
8vT(poi),  or,  so  to  speak,  the  patrons ;  the  led  were  the 
"  younger  "  members  (oJ  veuTepoi).  Out  of  this  distinction 
arose  equally  naturally — for  it  was  impossible  for  all  the 
"elders  "  to  take  part  in  the  conduct  of  affairs — the  separa- 
tion of  an  elected  ruling  college  (of.  Trpea-fivTfpoi  ol  Trpo'itr- 
■rdnd'oi)  from  the  ttXtJ^os  (plebs,  Aao'9).  Thus  an  "order" 
(ordo)  arose,  placed  over  the  congregation  by  the  congrega- 
tion itself.i  To  the  presbyters  belonged  a  np-r]  KaS^xoiKTo, 
— that  is  to  say,  the  honour  which  naturally  came  from  their 

'  Tertull.,  De  exhort,  cast.,  7:  " Diffcrcntiam  inter  ordincin  et 
ylebem  conslituit  ccclesix  auctoritas  et  honor  per  ordinis  conscssum 
•anctificatu3," 


position  in  life.  In  some  congregations  it  may  have  been 
long  before  the  elders  were  chosen,  in  others  this  may  have 
come  very  soon ;  in  some  the  sphere  of  the  competency  of 
the  presbyters  and  patrons  may  have  been  quite  indefinite 
and  in  others  more  jirecise.  In  some  congregations,  lastly, 
as  in  those  of  Asia  Minor,  the  presbyters  may  have  enjoyed 
particular  honour  for  the  special  reason  that  they  had 
knovra  apostles  or  disciples  of  apostles  personally ;  ^  in  the 
majority  of  congregations  this  was  not  the  case.  With 
the  congregational  administration,  properly  so  called,  in 
any  case,  they  had  nothing  to  do. 

We  may  call  the  first-named  organization  the  spiritual, 
the  second  the  administrative,  the  third  the  patriarchal. 
It  is  obvious  that  from  the  first  it  was  impossible  they 
should  coexist  side  by  side  without  coming  into  contact. 
Here  two  facts  are  of  the  highest  importance.  (1)  If  in 
any  congregation  prophets  and  teachers  were  wanting, 
then  the  administrative  officials  charged  themselves  with 
their  function.^  (2)  The  bishops  had  as  such  a  seat  and 
a  voice  in  the  presbyters'  college ;  every  bishop  was  at 
the  same  time  a  presbyter,  whether  old  or  young,  but 
every  presbyter  was  not  necessarily  also  a  bishop.  In 
many  communities,  indeed — as,  for  example,  at  Philippi,* 
at  Ephesus,^  and  in  Crete  * — all  the  presbyters  may  possibly 
also  have  been  bishops,  although  this  is  by  no  means  cer- 
tain ;  but  in  other  cases — as,  for  example,  in  that  of  Rome, 
as  we  learn  from  the  Pastor  of  Hennas — all  presbyters 
were  not  also  bishops.  Thus  it  is  not  the  case  that  origin- 
ally the  bishops  were  simply  identical  with  the  presbyters, 
and  that  the  one  bishop  was  a  gradual  development  out 
of  the  presbyters'  college ;  on  the  contrary,  the  attributes 
of  presbyters  and  bishojis  were  originally  distinct.  '  But, 
since  the  bishops  had  a  seat  and  a  voice  in  the  college 
and  exercised  special  functions  of  importance  besides,  they 
ultimately  acquired  a  higher  place. 

The  office  of  presbyter  was  not  during  the  oldest 
period  (90-140)  a  spiritual  one.  The  apostle,  the  pro- 
phet, the  teacher,  in  a  certain  sense  also  even  the  old 
bishop  and  deacon,  had  a  spiritual  character,  for  they  pos- 
sessed a  charisma.  It  was  not  so  with  the  presbyters ; 
they  had  no  charisma,  and  the  respect  in  which  they  were 
held  arose  out  of  the  natural  position  which  they  took 
within  the  congregations.  Hence  the  newly-discovered 
AtSa^Tj  tQv  d-n-oaroXiov  has  nothing  to  say  at  all  about 
presbyters,  but  only  about  apostles,  prophets,  teachers, 
bishops,  and  deacons.  The  design  of  that  writing  was  to 
give  those  institutions  of  the  apostles  which  are  peculiar 
to  the  Christian  community.  The  system  of  leaders  and 
led  is,  however,  a  matter  of  order ;  ifc  does  not  depend 
upon  the  special  Christian  charismata,  and  therefore 
does  not  impart  to  the  Christian  community  its  peculiar 
character.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  community  is 
God's  building  is  shown  by  such  marks  as  these,  that  the 
apostles  spread  the  gospel  by  their  inspired  preaching,  that 
prophets  and  teachers  edify  the  churches,  that  everywhere 
bishops  and  deacons  are  found  at  work  in  the  churches, 
endowed  with  the  gift  of  government  and  of  loving  service. 
Other  communities  also — towns,  temples,  synagogues,  and 
the  like — have  presbyters,  but  they  have  no  persons 
endowed  with  the  gift  of  the  Spirit.  A  sure  proof  of 
the  correctness  of  the  view  just  given  is  found  in  the  cir- 
cumstance that  before  the  time  of  Domitian  wo  do  not 

'  Compare  what  ia  said  by  Papias,  Irenxus,  and  also  by  Clement 
of  Alexandria. 

'  See  AtSaxh  tuii'  iwotTiXwv,  15.  According  to  1  Tim.  v.  17  those 
presbyters  arc  to  bo  counted  worthy  of  special  lionour  ol-Koriufrrt  iy 
\6yti)  Kal  SiSa<rKa\i^  But  this  makes  it  plain  that  ths  presbyters  were 
under  no  oblig.ation  to  teach.^ 

*  Polyc,  Ad  Philipp.,  5,  6,  11. 
»  1  Tim.  and  AcU  XX.  17,  28. 

•  V.n   to  Titus. 


676 


P  R  E  —  P  R  E 


possess  in  Christian  literature  a  single  sure  testimony  to 
the  existence  of  presbyters.  In  the  genuine  epistles  of  St 
Paul  and  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  they  are  not 
mentioned.  In  1  Cor.  xii.  28  Paul  says  that  God  has 
given  to  the  church  apostles,  prophets,  teachers,  miracles, 
gifts  of  healing,  help,  government ;  but  of  presbyters  he 
has  not  a  word  to  say.  Even  from  passages  where  he  is 
gpeaking  of  the  jurisdiction  of  the  congregation — as,  for 
example,  in  1  Cor.  v.,  vi. — the  presbyters  are  absent,  while 
in  Phil.  i.  1  it  is  the  bishops  and  deacons  that  he  mentions. 
In  the  Epistle  of  James,  in  the  First  Epistle  of  Peter,  in 
the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  and  in  the  pastoral  epistles  the 
presbyters  certainly  occur,  but  no  one  is  able  to  show 
that  any  of  these  writings  are  earlier  than  the  age  of 
Domitian.  Even  Clement  of  Rome  {Ad  Cor.,  42,  4)  does 
not  say  that  the  apostles  had  appointed  presbyters  in  the 
congregation  ;  he  speaks  only  of  bishops  and  deacons. 
For  this  very  reason  is  the  statement  in  Acts  xiv.  23  to  be 
looked  upon  with  suspicion.  It  would  be  much  too  pre- 
cipitate to  assert  that  before  the  time  of  Domitian  there 
were  no  presbyters  in  the  Christian  churches ;  on  the  con- 
trary, it   may  be  assumed   that  the  distinction  between 


"elder"  and  "younger"  would  not  fail  from  the  very 
first  to  assert  itself  in  these  communities,  organized  as  they 
were  so  largely  on  the  model  of  the  family.  But  in  this 
there  is  no  reason  for  assigning  any  special  importance  to 
the  distinction.  Out  of  it  there  grew  very  gradually  a 
special  rank  and  gradually  the  presbyters  had  assigned  to 
them  definite  functions ;  or,  in  other  words,  the  functions 
which  they  had  exercised  from  the  first,  of  exhorting, 
rebuking,  superintending,  became  recognized  ecclesiastical 
duties  and  privileges.  There  is  accordingly  no  need  for 
answering  the  question  whether  the  Christian  "elder"  's 
akin  to  the  Jewish  or  to  any  kind  of  heathen  "elder." 
This,  however,  can  well  be  affirmed,  that  the  pattern  o,' 
the  civic  senates  was  not  without  its  influence  upon  the 
later  development  of  the  presbyterate.  As  for  the  com- 
munities of  Jewi.sh  Christians,  we  know  nothing  certain 
about  their  constitution,  and  are  therefore  unable  to  say 
anything  definite  about  their  presbyters. 

See  Hatch,  Organization  of  the  Early  Christian  Churches  (2d 
ed.,  1882),  and  Harnack's  excursus  in  the  German  translation 
of  this  woi'k  (1883) ;  also  Harnack,  Die  Lehre  der  zwolf  Apostel 
(1884).  (A.  HA.) 


PRESBYTERIANISM 


THE  Presbyterian  form  of  church  government  began  at 
the  Reformation  and  attained  development  only  in 
the  churches  commonly  called  "  Reformed."  The  Saxon 
Reformers  were  not  indeed  fundamentally  averse  to  Pres- 
byterian principles.  Melanchthon,  for  instance,  expressly 
declared  that  no  minister,  without  a  college  of  elders  and 
the  consent  of  worthy  members  of  the  congrega.tion,  might 
excommunicate;  and,  in  a  letter  to  Nuremberg  (1540), 
P)Ugenhagcn,  Jonas,  Luther,  and  Mclanchthon  say,  "Resti- 
tuatur  et  excuniniunicatio  .  .  .  adhibitis  in  hoc  judicium 
senioribus  in  qualibet  ecclesia."  .  On  the  other  hand,  the 
"  Reformed  "  churches  did  not  a"ll  accept  tlie  system,  e.y., 
Zwingli  and  the  Zurich  congregation. 

In  1 .526  John  Brenz  drew  up  at  Halle  (Swabia)  a  scheme 
including  ciders,  ministers  chosen  from  the  elders,  and 
coimcils,  by  which  the  elders  were  chosen  by  the  Govern- 
ment, who  also  had  the  final  decision  in  all  questions  of 
importance.  Franz  Lambert,  at  the  same  time,  provided 
for  the  church  at  Hesse  provincial  synods,  representative 
of  the  churches,  and  a  general  or  land  synod,  under  the 
control  of  the  Government.  Within  the  limits  of  a  con- 
gregation the  .scheme  was  purely  congregational.  At 
Ziegenhain  in  1539'  a  decided  advance  was  made  towards 
autonomy,  as  only  half  the  elders,  who  had  extended 
powers,  were  there  cliosen  by  the  Government.  Zwingli 
theoretically  gave  the  power  to  the  congregation,  practic- 
ally to  the  civil  ])ower,  as  being  the  representative  of  the 
church.  In  Basel  in  1529  the  clergy  alone  had  the  power 
of  church  discipline.  In  1530,  however,  Q^colampadius, 
fearing  a  spiritual  tyranny,  wished  to  join  a  body  of  elders 
with  the  clergy,  to  be  chosen  by  the  council  partly  from 
its  own  body  and  \5artly  from  the  congregation,  four  from 
each,  who  with  the  clergy  would  form  the  "  censorum 
consensus."  But  the  council,  fearing  the  hnperium  in 
imperio,  preferred  four  colleges,  one  for  each  parish,  each 
college  being  formed  by  two.  members  of  the  council,  one 
of  the  congregation,  and  the  minister ;  and  the  council 
also  retained  the  final  decision  regarding  excommunication. 
At  Strasburg  (1531)  the  council  created  an  assembly  of 
the  ministers  of  the  seven  churches,  with  three  life  elders 
from  each,  nominated  by  the  council.  In  1 534  this  system 
was  modified  :  ordinary  matters  were  settled  each  fort- 
night by  the  minister  and  three  of  the  twenty-one  elders. 
Difficult  questions  were  carried  to  the  twenty-one,   and 


discipline,  short  of  excommunication,  to  them  with  the 
seven  ministers.  Capito's  system  at  Frankfort  differed 
from  this  in  that  only  three  out  of  nine  elders  were  elected 
by  the  council,  and  that  the  office  was  for  three  years  only. , 
These  all  remained  mere  theories,  limited,  fragmentary, 
and  abortive.  Calvin  set  himself  to  create  a  majestic 
and  comprehensive  system  and  to  give  to  it  the  double 
authority  of  ai'gumentative  statement  and  practical  realiza- 
tion. He  saw  that  the  impulses  and  the  aspirations  of  the 
Reformation  were,  for  want  of  discipline,  robbed  of  S,  large 
part  of  their  dynamic  force.  He  threw  these  forces  and 
aspirations  into  the  mould  of  his  own  genius,  developed 
order  out  of  tiimult,  and  created  a  definite,  yet  elastic  code, 
which  should  match  the  discipline  of  Rome  and  at  the  same 
time  frustrate  the  anarchical  tendencies  of  extreme  Pro- 
testantism. The  contrast  with  Luther  is  complete :  Luther 
created,  Calvin  fashioned ;  "  the  watchword  of  the  one  was 
war,  of  the  other  order."  Calvin,  surrounded  by  Catholic 
powers,  felt  more  strongly  than  Luther  that  a  definite  pro- 
test as  to  church  government  was  necessary.  His  leading 
principles  are  that — (1)  a  separate  ministry  is  an  ordinance 
of  God  {List.,  iv.  3,  1-3) ;  (2)  ministers  duly  called  and 
ordained  may  alone  preach  and  administer  sacraments  (iv. 
3,  10);  (3)  a  legitimate  ministry  is  one  where  suitable  per- 
sons are  appointed  with  the  consent  and  approbation  of  the 
people,  but  that  other  pastors  should  preside  over  the  elec- 
tion to  guard  against  inconstancy,  intrigue,  or  confusion 
(iv.  3,  15),  the  final  act  of  ordination,  the  laying  on  of 
hands,  being  confined  to  the  pastors;  (4)  to  co-operate  with 
the  pastors  there  should  be  "governors,"  whom  he  "appre- 
hends "  to  be  persons  of  advanced  years,  selected  from 
the  people  to  join  with  the  pastors  in  admonishing  and  in 
exercising  discipline  (iv.  3,  8) ;  (5)  'discipline,  the  ordering 
of  men's  lives,  is  all-important  and  is  the  special  business  of 
the  governors  aforesaid.  Calvin  arrived  at  these  principles 
as  follows.  From  Eph.  iv.  1 1  sq.,  Rom.  xii.  7,  and  1  Cor. 
xii.  28  he  deduced  five  orders,  of  which  three — apostles, 
prophets,  and  evangelists — were  extraordinary  and  hac 
lapsed,  but  two — pastors  and  doctors — were  for  all  time 
Doctors  are  concerned  only  with  interpretation  and  exposi- 
tion, pastors  with  preaching,  sacraments,  discipline.  From 
the  jjastors  some  are  singled  out  (1  Tim.  v.  17),  called, 
and  ordained  to  "  labour  in  the  word,"  to  occupy  them- 
selvss,  in  y?.«cf  charges,  with  preaching  and  administering 


PRESBYTERIANISM 


G77 


sacraments ;  while  the  rest  are  invested  with  jurisdiction 
in  the  correction  of  manners  and  witli  the  care  of  the  poor. 
For,  although  Christ  gave  to  the  whole  congregation  the 
power  of  excommunication,  as  in  the  Jewish  Sanhedrim, 
and  although,  therefore,  the  elders  are  to  use.  their  power 
only  with  the  consent  of  the  congregation,  yet  the  crowd 
are  not  to  rule,  lest  arbitrariness  and  confusion  enter. 
Deacons  (or  elders  who  have  the  care  of  the  poor)  are  of 
two  kinds,  those  who  administer  alms  and  those  who 
attend  to  the  sick.  For  additional  sanction  to  his  views 
Calvin  often  refers  to  the  primitive  church  and  the  writ- 
ings of  the  fathers.  But  with  respect  to  this  his  position 
is  best  indicated"  by  his  own  words  in  the  preface  to  the 
Tns/.iiuies :  "  We  so  read  their  writings  as  always  to  keep 
in  \iew  the  saying  of  Paul  (1  Cor.  iii.  21-23)  that  all  things 
are  ours,  to  serve  us  that  is,  and  not  to  rule  over  us,  while 
we  ourselves  belong  to  the  Lord,  whom,  without  exception, 
we  must  all  obey."  (1)  His  system,  whUe  preserving  the 
democratical  theory  in  so  far  as  it  recognized  the  congrega- 
tion as  the  holder  of  church  power,  was  in  practice  strictly 
aristocratic,  inasmuch  as  the  congregation  is  never  allowed 
any  direct  use  of  that  power,  which  is  invested  in  the  ^hole 
body  of  elders;  and  the  system  constantly  tended  to 
development  in  the  aristocratic  direction.  (2)  The  great 
object  is  discipline  of  life:  "We  come  now  to  the  third 
branch  of  the  power  of  the  church,  and  that  which  is  the 
principal  one  in  a  well-regulated  state,  which,  we  have 
said,  consists  in  jurisdiction.  The  whole  jurisdiction  of 
the  state  relates  to  the  discipline  of  manners"  (iv.  11,  1). 
In  his  correspondence  too  Calvin  is  ever  on  this  subject, 
while  the  eldership  itself  is  celdom  mentioned ;  at  Stras- 
burg  his  mind  was  constantly  occupied  with  it ;  it  was 
the  first  business  that  he  set  his  hand  to  in  Geneva ;  it 
was  for  insisting  upon  this  that  he  was  banished ;  and  he 
made  it  his  first  condition  for  return  (iv.  1 2).  (3)  Although 
the  Presbyterian  form  of  church  government  has  to  thank 
Calvin  for  its  vertebrate  existence,  he  nowhere  makes  the 
true  church  depend  upon  this  or  any  other  form  of  govern- 
ment. The  inner  life  is  what  ho  insists  upon,  not  the  out- 
ward form  ;  all  that  is  needed  for  a  true  church,  ho  asserts, 
is  the  word  of  God  duly  preached  and  the  pure  adminis- 
tration of  the  sacraments.  He  held  the  jus  divhnim  of  the 
ministerial  oflttce  as  admitting  of  no  question — "that  mode 
of  governing  the  church  by  its  ministers  which  the  Lord 
appointed  to  be  of  perpetual  continuance"  (iv.  3,  1-3) — 
but  the  manner  in  which  the  ministerial  office  is  divided 
is  to  some  extent  in  his  mind  a  matter  of  argument  and 
"  apprehension."  The  same  elasticity  and  desire  for  adapta- 
tion may  often  bo  noticed  in  his  words,  as,  for  example, 
when  on  the  very  question  of  election  of  ministers,  whether 
it  should  be  by  the  congregation  or  not,  he  says,  "Wo  must 
be  guided  in  this  respect  by  times  and  circumstances " 
(Henry,  i.  37 1).'  Nor  does  he  put  forward  any  theory  as 
to  the  Idetails — the  ndmber,  method  of  choice,  or  period  of 
office.  All  these  he  leaves  to  each  individual  church.  (4) 
He  does  not  include  synods  as  necessary.  Should  contro- 
versy arise  respecting  doctrine  (iv.  9,  13),  there  is  no 
better  or  more  certain  remedy,  ho  says,  than  to  assepble  a 
council  of  true  "  bishops,"  in  which  the  controverted  doc- 
trine may  be  discussed.  Regarding  the  question  histori- 
cally he  gives  to  the  ancient  councils  a  modified  approbation, 
but  he  denies  the  power  of  councils  to  frame  new  doctrine. 
With  regard  to  the  relations  between  the  church  and 

*  On  the  question  of  the  jus  divinnm  of  the  eldership,  8ee  Lorimer,  On 
the  Eldership,  especially  the  trnct  therein  by  James  Outline,  who  first 
suggested  the  idea  in  the  middle  of  the  17th  century,  and  two  papers 
in  the  Rernrds  of  the  First  Oemral  I'resln/terittn  Council,  1877  (pp.  62, 
98),  by  Dr  Caims  and  Professor  Lee,  in  the  latter  of  which  it  is  stated 
with  wonderful  confidence  that  "Calvin  himself  holds  that  wo  may 
re3t  the  doctrine  of  a  divine  warrant  for  the  ruling  eldership  on  the 
grooad  mentioned  in  Inst. ,  iv.  3,  8. " 


the  state,  Calvin  was  utterly  opposed  to  the  Zwinglian' 
theory,  whereby  all  ecclesiastical  power  was  handed  over 
to  the  state.  The  political  administration,  he  says,  is  as 
necessary  to  human  weakness  as  are  food  and  light  and 
air ;  but  it  has  not  the  right  to  legislate  for  religion  or 
divine  worship,  though  it  must  take  care  that  the  gospel 
religion  is  not  insulted  or  injured.  "The  church  of  God 
stands  in  need  of  a  certain  spiritual  polity,  which,  however, 
is  entirely  distinct  from  civil  polity,  and  is  so  far  from 
obstructing  or  weakening  it,  that  on  the  contrary  it  highly 
conduces  to  its  assistance  and  advancement"  (iv.  11,  2). 
"The  church  does  not  assume  to  itself  what  belongs  to  the 
magistrate,  nor  can  the  magistrate  ejecute  that  which  is 
executed  by  the  church."  Thus,  the  magistrate  imprisons 
a  man  for  drunkenness ;  the  church  excommunicates  him, 
and  regards  him  spiritually  as  an  outlaw.  Should  he  re- 
pent, the  magistrate  takes  no  cognizance  of  his  repentance, 
but  the  church  can  do  so  by  allowing  him  to  return  to 
communion.  The  magistrate  makes  laws,  and  God  makes 
laws;  the  breach  of  the  one  is  a  "crime,"  that  of  the 
latter  is  a  "  sin,"  though  perhaps  no  crime  ;  it  is  with  the 
sin  that  the  church  deals.  The  magistrate  may  neglect 
to  punish  magisterially;  the  church,  with  spiritual  penalty, 
supplies  the  neglect. 

But,  though  the  church  disclaims  interference  with  the 
domain  of  the  state,  she  expects  the  state  to  support  her. 
Indeed,  while  Calyin  utterly  abjures  the  thought  of  an 
imperium  in  imperio,  while  he  spends  much  labour  in 
showing  how  the  papacy,  by  continual  encroachments, 
secured  the  civil  power,  and  in  condemning  this  confusion 
of  two  distinct  spheres  of  action,  the  function  of  giving 
support  to  the  chiu-ch  is  in  the  Calvinistic  system  really 
the  raison  d'etre  of  the  state.  In  a  very  remarkable  passage 
(iv:  20,  3)  Calvin's  position  is  clearly  shown.  A  well- 
ordered  state,  that  for  which  the  best  of  the  popes  strove, 
is  a  theocracy.  There  can  be  no  question  as  to  what 
doctrine  is  right,  for  the  law  of  God,  the  only  possible 
doctrine,  is  plainly  stated  in  the  Bible.  That  law  is  the 
highest  thing  that  a  state  can  regard ;  it  is  indeed  the  very 
life  of  the  state,  and  the  position  of  the  state  towards  the 
church  follows  at  once.  The  words  "  toward  the  church  " 
alone  introduce  th^  difficulty.  They  should  bo  "toward 
God."  'If  the  state  fail  to  support  tlie  church,  it  fails  to 
support,  not  a  human,  but  a  divine  organization.  In  the 
infliction  of  punishments,  for  example,  the  magistrate 
should  regard  himself  merely  as  ex'ecuting  the  judgments 
of  God.  So  that  the  objection  of  the  imperitim  in  imperio, 
the  assertion  that  the  church  claims  spiritual  liberty  inde- 
pendent of  tho  judgment  of  the  state,  while  at  the  same 
time  insisting  on  tho  support  of  that  state  whose  authority 
she  thus  disregards,  falls  to  tho  ground.  The  civil  magis- 
tracy is  as  much  a  divine  institution  as  is  the  ministry  of 
Christ ;  the  state  and  the  church  are  as  much  one  as  are 
the  veins  and  tlio  blood  which  permeates  and  vivifies  them. 

The  fallacy  in  all  this  is  obvious.  The  argument  neces- 
sarily presupposes  a  theocracy,  and  such  a  thing  did  not 
exist  in  Europe.  A  state  church,  claiming  at  once  inde- 
pendence of  the  state  and  support  from  the  state,  must 
bring  about  contest  and  complication  where  the  state  is 
not  prepared  to  recognize  the  claim.  The  impmum  in 
imperio  difficulty  (expressed  most  briefly-  by  James  I.'s 
"  No  bisho]>,  no  king ")  arises  acutely  at  once,  however 
much  tho  church  may  refuse  to  admit  it.  This  was  the 
case  in  Scotland.  And  where,  as  was  tho  case  in  Franco, 
it  is  not  a  state  church  but  a  union  of  persons  holding  a 
religion,  and  therefore  views  on  important  matters,  which 
difTer  from  those  of  the  Government,  cpjin-ssion  must  arise 
in  an  age  ignorant  of  religious  liberty,  and  flic  oppressed 
will  become  a  political  party  opposed  to  the  Government^ 
however  much  they  may  disclaim  tho  position. 


678 


PRESBYTERIANISM 


[GE^EVA. 


It  can  now  be  seen  how  far  Calvin  was  able  to  carry 
out  his  theory.  JBut  for  his  life  the  theory,  like  those 
■which  preceded  it,  would  probably  have  had  no  universal 
historical  interest. 

The  course  of  events  in  Geneva  had  developed  a  theo- 
cratical  feeling  ;  and  the  essence  of  a  theocracy  seemed 
gained  when  the  citizens  were  summoned  by  tens  in 
1.53j6  to  swear  the  confession  contained  in  Calvin's  first 
Catechism  (really  an  analysis  of  the  Institutes).  They 
swore  as  citizens,  and  those  who  refused  lost  their  citizen- 
ship. As  soon,  however,  as  Calvin  attempted  to  make 
this  a  reality  trouble  followed.  His  ruling  idea  was  dis- 
cipline, and  this  was  exercised  against  both  the  moral 
and  the  spiritual  libertines, — against  those  who  objected 
to  the  discipline  of  manners  and  those  who  disliked  sub- 
mission to  the  confession.  As  the  reins  were  drawn 
tighter  these  two  bodies  gained  influence  in  the  council, 
and  inveighed  against  the  new  popedom.  At  length,  in 
1538,  when  Calvin,  Farel,  and  Conrad  refused  to  give  the 
communion  in  a  city  which,  as  represented  by  the  council, 
would  not  submit  to  church  discipline,  the  storm  broke 
out.  The  three  preachers  were  banished,  and  Calvin  re- 
tired to  Strasburg.  This  refusal  of  the  sacrament  is  im- 
portant as  a  matter  of  ecclesiastical  history,  because  it  is 
the  essence  of  that  whole  system  which  Calvin  subsequently 
introduced,  and  which  rests  on  the  principles  that  the 
church  has  the  right  to  exclude  those  who,  according  to 
her  judgment,  appear  unworthy,  and  that  she  is  in  no 
way  subject  to  the  state  in  matters  of  religion.  For  the 
present  the  state  had  refused  to  admit  the  claims  of  the 
church.  Calvin  laid  down  as  the  conditions  of  his  return 
the  recognition  of  the  church's  independence,  the  division 
of  the  town  into  parishes,  and  the  appointment  by  the 
council  of  elders  in  each  parish  for  excommunicatit>n. 
The  feeling,  however,  was  for  three  years  too  strong ;  the 
banishment  was  confirmed  on  the  specific  ground  that  the 
insistence  on  excommunication  was  an  attempt  at  despotic 
power.  Calvin's  absence  left  the  to^Ti  a  prey  to  anarchy : 
one  party  threatened  to  return  to  Romanism,  another  to 
give  up  their  independence  to  Bern.  It  was  felt  to  be  a 
political  necessity  to  recall  Calvin,  and  in  1541  he  returned 
on  his  own  terras.  Meanwhile  he  had  been  maturing  and 
carrying  out  his  S3-stem  (Inst.,  iv.  8)  in  the  French  and 
Walloon  churches  in  Strasburg. 

By  the  Ordonnances  Ecclesiastiques  de  I'Sglise  de  Geneve, 
which  represent  the  terms  on  which  Calvin  consented  to 
be  pastor  in  Geneva  and  which  were  published  on  20th 
November  1541  in  the  name  of  Almighty  God  by  the 
syndics,  the  small  and  great  councils,  and  the  people,  there 
are,  as  in  the  Institutes,  the  four  orders, — pastors,  doctors, 
elders,  deacons.  (1)  The  pastors  preach,  administer  the 
sacraments,  and,  in  conjunction  with  the  elders,  «^xercise 
discipline.  In  their  totality  they  form  the  "venerable 
compagnie."  It  was  the  duty  of  each  minister,  with  the 
elders  of  his  parish,  to  be  diligent  in  house-to-house  visita- 
tion, to  catechize,  and,  generally,  to  supervise  familj'  life. 
After  being  approved  as  to  knowledge  and  manner  of  life, 
and  ordained  by  the  pastors  already  in  office,  and  settled 
in  a  fixed  charge  by  the  magistrate  with  the  consent  of  the 
congregation,  the  Piewly-.nade  pastor  vowed  to  be  true  in 
office,  faithful  to  the  church  system,  obedient  to  the  laws 
and  the  civil  government  (with  reservation  of  freedom  in 
doctrine  and  the  rights  of  office;  compare  Becket's  "saving 
our  order " ),  and,  in  especial,  to  exercise  discipline  with- 
out fear  or  favour.  (2)  The  doctors  teach  the  faithful  in 
sound  learning  and  guard  the  purity  of  doctrine.  They 
too  are  subject  to  "discipline."  (3)  The  work  of  the 
elders  ("  Anciens,  Commis  ou  D6putez  par  la  Seigneurie  ou 
Consistoire ")  Calvin  regarded  as  the  sinew  and  essential 
6ub>tance  of  the  system.     They  were  the  bond  of  union 


between  church  and  state,  and  therefore  the  most  important 
element  of  the  theocratic  gowrnment.  Their  business  was 
to  supervise  daily  life,  to  warn  the  disorderly,  and  to  give 
notice  to  the  consistory  of  cases  requiring  church  chastise- 
ment. They  were  nominated  by  the  small  council  and 
confirmed  by  the  "  two  hundred."  Two  were  chosen  from 
the  small  council,  four  from  the  "sixty,"  eight  from  the 
"two  hundred";  some  were  to  live  in  each  quarter,  that 
the  whole  might  be  well  supervised.  After  a  year's  pro- 
bation an  elder  might  be  dismissed  or  confirmed  by  the 
small  council.  If  confirmed,  he  held  ofl^ce  for  life.  To 
form  the  "consistoire  "  or  church  court,  all  the  elders,  with 
the  pastors,  met  every  Sunday  under  the  presidency  of  one 
of  the  four  syndics.  This  court  was  erected  purely  as  a 
means  to  secure  discipline.  It  could  award  punishments 
up  to  exclusion  from  the  sacrament.  It  had,  too,  great 
authority  (with  appeal  to  the  civil  Government)  in  marriage 
questions.  An  officer  of  the  Go-vernment  was  placed  at  its 
disposal  to  summon  persons  before  it ;  should  they  refuse 
to  appear,  the  Government  itself  compelled  attendance. 
Moreover,  the  consistoire  was  bound  to  give  notice  of  every 
excommunication  to  the  Government,  which  attached  to  it 
certain  civil  penalties  :  "et  que  tout  cela  ne  face  en  telle 
sorte  que  les  ministres  n'ayent  aucune  jurisdiction  civile 
et  que  par  ce  consistoire  ne  soit  rien  derogu6  k  I'authorite 
de  la  seigneurie,  ni  k  la  justice  ordinaire,  ainsi  que  la 
puissance  divine  demeure  en  son  entier." 

The  inevitable  quarrel  arose  in  1546-53,  when  the 
council  overruled  the  decision  of  the  consistory  in  a  ques- 
tion- of  excommunication.  The  deniers  of  the  autonomy 
of  the  church  referred  to  the  clause  which  laid  down  that 
excommunications  were  to  be  notified  to  the  small  council; 
but  Calvin  argued  that  the  aim  of  this  was  merely  that  in 
extreme  cases  the  Government  should  support  the  action  of 
the  church,  not  criticize  it,  and  he  won  the  victory.  His 
position  gradually  became  stronger.  In  1557  banishment 
was  awarded  to  any  one  who  contemned  the  sacrament  or 
the  sentence  of  the  consistoire.  In  1560  it  was  ordered 
that  the  names  of  the  elders  should  be  published,  honoris 
causa;  and  in  the  same  year  the  appearance  of  state  con- 
trol, by  the  presence  of  a  syndic  with  his  staflT  of  office  at 
the  consistoire,  was  done  away  with.  He  was  present,  but 
not  officially  as  a  syndic,  and  without  his  stafi". 

It  should  be  noticed  (1)  that  the  provision  that  in  cer- 
tain cases  the  censure  of  the  consistoire  should  be  followed 
by  civil  penalties  is  in  keeping  with  the  theocratic  view. 
So  too  is  the  provision  that  members  of  political  bodies 
flone  were  eligible  to  the  eldership.  The  rights  of  the 
church  as  distinct  from  the  state  authority  were  preservtd 
by  the  condition  that  the  meeting  of  the  consistoire  was 
summoned  by  the  ministers.  (2)  In  the  Institutes  ecclesi- 
astical power  is  ascribed  to  the  congregation,  to  be  exer- 
cised by  foreknowledge  of  and  in  agreement  with  the  acts 
of  the  ecclesiastical  jurisdiction.  But  in  the  Ordonnances 
the  congregation  as  a  unit  is  passed  over  in  silence  as 
regards  discipline  and  the  choice  of  elders.  (3)  It  must 
be  remembered  that  Calvin  never  professed  to  regard  this, 
as  a  perfect  plan,  but  as  good  as  under  the  circumstances^ 
he  could  hope  for.  It  was  a  compromise,  and  showed  the 
practical  character  of  the  man.  If  he  could  secure  the 
essence  of  his  longed-for  church  discipline  he  was  wiUing 
to  waive  the  question  of  privilege. 

To  sum  up  the  characteristics  of  early  Presbyterianism 
— ^(1)  It  is  an  organization  for  discipline.  "Whatever  else 
they  may  be,  the  elders  of  the  Reformed  churches  are, 
primarily, 'censors  of  morals.  (2)  The  institution  claims 
the  triple  ground  of  Scripture,  history,'  expediency.  (3) 
The  Lutheran  doctrine  of  universal  priesthood  is  wanting. 
(4)  No  voice  is  raised  for  the  choice  of  elders  by  the 
congregation.     As  to  eligibility  there  is  as  little  anxiety  • 


<rOI!^Nn  I 


i^KESBYTEHIANlyiM 


670 


Srenz  says,  "  from  among  the  citizens  "  ;  CEcolampadius 
ind  Capito,  partly  from  the  Government,  partly  from  the 
congregation ;  Calvin  theoretically  leaves  it  unsettled,  but 
in  practice  gives  it  only  to  the  political  bodies.  As  to 
period  of  office,  Capito  wishes  for  regular-  change  ;  the  rest 
leave  it  in  theory  undetermined.  Geneva  retained  .per- 
manence as  the  rule  and  change  as  the  exception.  (5) 
oynods  have  no  place  except  with  Lambert. 

In  1549  Lasky,  who  had  established  a  flourishing  church 
&t  Emden,  was  driven  to  London.  There  in  1550  he 
became  superintendent  of  the  foreign  congregation,  which 
was  independent  of  the  state  church,  but  which  was  in- 
tended by  the  king  to  serve  as  a  model  to  be  followed  when 
England  should  be  ripe  for  reform.  This  church  was  in 
two  congregations,  French  and  German.  The  French  kept 
the  Genevan  system,  the  German  a  modification  of  it.  In 
this  latter  tte  ministers,  elders,  and  deacons  were  chosen 
by  the  written  votes  of  the  congregation,  with  revision 
and  final  decision  by  ,the  officers  already  existing,  though 
any  objection  on  the  part  of  the  congregation  must  be 
duly  considered.  The  strictest  discipline  was  carried  out. 
^fot  merely  the  congregation  but  the  ministers  also  were 
subject  to  the  elder.s.  Every  three  months  ministers  and 
elders  came  together  for  mutual  censure.  Deacons  were 
subordinate  to  the  elders.  The.  eldership  was  for  life, 
the  diaconate  for  a  year.  The  essential  difference  be- 
tween this  and  Calvin's  system  is  that  here  the  congre- 
gation has  a  very  real  though  a  limited  share  in  the 
choice  of  the  officers ;  the  ground-work  of  Lasky's  prin- 
c.'ple  is  subdued  Congregationalism.  Lasky  held  also  that 
the  ministers  should  have  a,  fixed  president,  selected  from 
themselves.  This  office  he  regarded  as  a  permanent  one. 
Under  the  Marian  persecution  the  London  system  found 
in  a  modified  form  a  new  home  in  Frankfort  and  on  the 
lower  Rhine.  At  Frankfort,  in  the  French  congregation, 
in  choosing  elders,  the  church  council  selected  twice  as 
many  names  as  were  wanted,  and  out  of  them  the  con- 
gregation made  its  choice.'^ 

Scotland. — The  initial  conditions  of  Scottish  Presby- 
terianism  are  seen  in  the  historical  facts — (J)  that  the 
Reformation  was  the  form  taken  by  the  triumph  of  a 
violent  and  grasping  aristocracy  over  the  encroachments 
of  the  sovereign  and  an  alien  church  ;  and  (2)»that  John 
Knox  was  its  spiritual  leader.  Under  his  advice  the  Pro- 
testant nobles  in  December  1557  formed  themselves  into 
A.  covenanted  body  called  "The  Lords  of  the  Congregation"; 
in  1559  Perth  declared  itself  Protestant,  and  Knox's  sermon 
there  on  11th  May  was  the  manifesto  of  revolt.  In  1560, 
being  hard  pressedj  the  lords  concluded  with  England  the 
Pacification  of  Berwick,  and  a  few  months  later  the  treaty 
of  Edinburgh,  whereby  the  whole  government  was  placed 
tn  their  hands. 

To  the  parliament  which  now  assembled  a  petition  was 
iddressed  praying  (1)  that  a  "true  kirk  of  God"  and  the 
wund  doctrines  of  the  Reformation  might  be  established, 
[2)  that  the  true  discipline  of  the  ancient  church  might  be 
restored,  and  (3)  that  the  ecclesiastical  revenues  might  be 
ipplied  to  the  support  of  the  ministry,  schools,  and  the 
poor.  Meanwhile  the  Reformers  garrisoned,  as  it  were,  the 
country.  Under  Knox's  agency  Edinburgh,  St  Andrews, 
A-berdeen,  Jedburgh,  Perth,  Dunfermline,  and  Loith  had 
axed  ministers  appointed,  whilst  wider  districts  were 
j)laced  under  superintendents  or  travelling  ministers.     To 

'  On  the  pre-Calvin  reformers  nnd  Lasky,  see  techier,  Geschichle  der 
pTeshyterlal-  und  Synodal-  Ver/assimg  seit  der  Reformulion  ;  Richter, 
Oe-ich.  der  evanj.  Kirckenxerfaasuny  in  Deutsrliland,  and  JSvaiig. 
Kirchenordnunjen,  <Lc.  ;  Heizog,  lical- Euct/klopadif  ;  Allix,  Hisl.  of 
iht  Waldenses;  aitd  other  works.  For  Calvin,  sec  InstUula  and  Cor- 
respojulence  ;  Lechler,  as'  above  ;  Henry,  Life  end  Times  ;  Moshcim, 
Ecdrj.  History  ;  Hagenliacli,  Works  ;  Cunningham,  Iliit.  Theolouy  ', 
S»nke,  frnnxMischt  GuMchla  ;  Richter,  vi  supra. 


meet  the  first  prayc-  of  the  petition  Knox  an3  five  other 
ministers  drew  up  a  scheme^  of  doctrine  and  discipline. 
The  Confession  of  Faith,  produced  within  four  days  and 
ratified  by  the  three  estates  on  17th  July  1560,  was  natur- 
ally aggressive  and  uncompromising.  It  expresses  abhor- 
rence especially  of  the  blasphemy  of  them  "that  affirme  that 
men  who  live  according  to  equity  and  justic.  sail  be  saved 
what  religioun  soever  they  have  professed,"  and  of  all  the 
doctrines  of  the  Anabaptists.  The  civil  magistrate  is 
appointed  for  the  "suppressing  of  idolatrie  and  supersti- 
tioun  whatsoever."  Above  all,  no  mercy  was  to  be  shown 
to  Catholicism  :  the  celebration  of  mass  was  to  be  punished 
by  death.  To  accomplish  the  second  prayer  of  the  petition 
the  Reformed  ministers  and  the  leading  Protestant  nobles 
met  at  Edinburgh  on  20th  December  1560.  This  was  a 
purely  church  meeting  ;  parliament  had  in  it  no  part  what- 
soever. Even  in  its  birth  the  Scottish  Church  announced 
its  independence.  It  will,  however,  be  observed  that  there 
were  in  the  forty-six  members  comprising  it  but  six  minis- 
ters. At  this  assembly  was  drawn  up  the  First  Buik  of 
Discipline,  which,  though  not  accepted  by  the  privy  council, 
was  on  27th  January  1561  signed  by  the  great  majority 
of  the  members,  and  by  the  chiefs  of  the  great  Protestant 
families,  on  the  noteworthy  condition  that  the  deposed 
prelates  were  allowed  to  enjoy  their  benefices  during  life. 
This  book,  which  was  a  grand  efTort  to  reconstruct 
society,  and  for  which,  its  authors  asserted,  "  they  took 
not  their  example  from  any  kirk  in  the  world, — no,  not 
from  Geneva,"  was  nevertheless  on  the  Genevan  principle. 
It  deals  solely  with  the  congregation  ;  the  idea  only  of 
synods  may  be  traced.  As  regards  the  relations  of  church 
and  state,  the  eldership  and  the  economy  of  the  church 
generally,  especially  the  supervision  of  life  and  manners, 
its  views  are  those  of  Calvin.  Doctors  or  teachers  are  not 
mentioned  until  the  edition  of  1621,  published  by  Calder- 
wood  in  Holland.  The  order  of  deacons  was  of  the 
utmost  service  in  poor  relief.  It  was  abolished,  of  course, 
at  the  Restoration,  and  the  want  of  it  was  shown  by  the 
fact  that  in  1688  one-fifth  of  the  population  were  beggars. 
Upon  the  restoration  of  Presbyterianism  the  evil  was  again 
grappled  with,  and  in  1709  so  great  a  change  had  taken 
place  that  the  justices  of  the  peace  were  instructed  to  leave 
the  whole  question  of  poor  relief  to  the  kirk  sessions." 
Besides  the  regular  orders  there  were  two  others,  called 
for  by  the  exigencies  of  the  situation,  svpei-intatdents  and 
readers.  The  latter  of  these  was  temporarj',  lasting  only 
until  1581  ;  it  was  required  by  the  lack  of  highly-qualified 
men  for  the  ministry.  Readers  were  appointed  to  read 
the  common  prayers  and  the  Scriptures;  in  process  of 
time  they  might  become  ministers.  The  superintendents 
travelled  through  their  districts — of  which  there  were  to 
be  ten  —  establishing  churches,  settling  ministers,  and 
generally  putting  the  church  in  order.  Moreover,  com- 
missions were  given,  lasting  for  a  yenr  only,  for  special 
needs.  It  has  been  asserted  that  this  office  of  superin- 
tendent was  also  intended  to  bo  temporary  ;  but  it  is  not 
stated  so,  as  in  the  case  of  the  readers  ;  on  the  contrary, 
the  whole  language  points  to  permanence.  It  is  obvious 
that  it  is  only  by  the  most  strained  use  of  language  that 
this  institution  can  be  used  as  an  historical  argument  foK 
Episcopacy  in  any  modern  sense.  Not  only  was  liic  .super- 
intendent in  all  respects  subject  to  the  .same  rule  as  Lis 
brethren,  but  in  the  last  exhortation  upon  election  he  is 
strictly  charged,  "  Usurpe  not  doiriiniori  nor  tyrannical 
authority  over  thy  brethren."  In  June  1562,  however, 
subjection  of  ministers  to  superintendents,  as  far  at. any 
rate  as  receiving  admonition,  was  enacted ;  and  in  December 
1562  the  superintendent  received  the  power,  ivith  the  con^ 
sent  of  ike  mnjnrity  of  the  ministers  in  his  district,  to  trans- 


'  Uctheringtou,  li,  'H'i. 


680 


PRESBYTERIAN  ISM 


[scOTLAKto. 


late  ministers.  In  1665  his  functions  increased  vitally;  he 
might  then  call  a  disobedient  minister  before  himself,  accom- 
.panied  only  by  the  nearest  discreet  ministers,  who  might 
.suspend  the  delinquent  from  ministry  and  stipend  until 
the  next  general  assembly.  In  1575  it  was  ordered  that 
sujjerintendents  should  be  elected  yearly,  to  avoid  ambition. 
Care  was  taken  to  preserve  the  rights  of  the  congrega- 
tion :  "  It  apperteaneth  to  the  Pepill,  and  to  everie  several 
congregation,  to  elect  their  minister.  .  .  .  Altogether  this 
is  to  be  avoided  that  any  man  be  violently  iutrused  or 
thrust  in  upon  any  congregation."  But,  once  elected,  he 
is  irremovable,  except  for  heinous  crimes  or  by  the  majority 
of  the  whole  kirk.  Of  course  he  is  strictly  "  examinated  " 
as  regards  both  "  lyiff  and  maneris  "  and  "  doctryne  and 
knawledge,''  and  especially  as  to  his  grasp  of  the  chief 
points  of  controversy  with  Papists,  Anabaptists,  &c.  No 
special  method  of  nomination  of  elders  is  laid  down,  but 
from  those  nominated  the  whole  congregation  is  to  choose, 
special  care  being  taken  "  that  every  man  may  gj'f  his  vote 
freelie."  The  iiberty  of  the  churches  is  preserved  by 
making  the  elections  of  elders  and  deacons  annual.  The 
affairs  of  each  congregation  were  managed  by  the  kirk 
session  (French  "  consistoire  "),  which  met  at  least  once  a 
week.  In  every  considerable  town  another  weekly  meet- 
ing was  held,  called  the  "  exercise  of  prophesying,"  which  in 
course  of  time  became  the  presbytery  or  classical  assembly 
(colloque).  It  was  formally  erected  in  1579,  and  gener- 
ally introduced  in  1581.  Then,  again,  the  superintendent, 
with  the  ministers  and  delegated  elders  of  his  district, 
formed  what  developed  into  the  provincial  assembly.  To 
this  any  one  aggrieved  by  the  kirk  session  might  appeal, 
and,  if  necessary,  the  appeal  went  to  the  general  assembly. 
This  right  of  appeal  was  given  in  1563.  The  general 
assembly,  composed  of  delegated  ministers  and  elders,  into 
the  constitution  of  which  a  change  similar  to  that  in  France 
in  1565  was  introduced  in  1568,  met  as  occasion  served. 
Educa-  A  splendid  educational  system  was  sketched.  Parish 
tional  schools,  where  grammar  and  Latin  should  be  taught ; 
ysteni.  pojigggg  [^  every  important  town,  with  professors  of  logic, 
rhetoric,  and  the  tongues ;  universities  at  Glasgow,  St 
Andrews,  and  Aberdeen, — such  was  what  Knox  desired. 
(The  parish  schools  were  not  established  till  1696.)  The 
principle  was  affirmed  that  education  was  the  affair  of  the 
state.  "  No  fader,  of  what  estait  and  condition  that  ever 
he  be,  use  his  children  at  his  own  fantasie,  especially  in 
their  youthheade,  but  all  must  be  compelled  to  bring  up 
their  children  in  learnyng  and  virtue."  Compulsion  and 
free  education  for  the  poor  were  Knox's  idea.  In  1567 
i;ailiainent  compelled  patrons  who  had  " provestries,  pre- 
bendaries, altarages,  or  chaplaincies  at  their  gift  to  present 
bursars  to  them  to  studie  in  anie  college  or  universitie  of 
this  realm." 

To  carry  out  these  schemes  and  one  for  composition  of 
tithes  Knox  proposed  to  apply  the  revenues  of  the  disestab- 
lished church.  But  he  was  completely  baffled  by  the  nobles, 
who  hastened  to  divide  the  spoil.  The  absolute  irrecon- 
cilability of  the  views  of  these  feudal  barons,  who  were  Re- 
formers because  their  supremacy  was  threatened  by  crown 
and  church,  and  because  they  coveted  the  abbey  lands, 
with  those  of  Knox  and  his  fellow-labourers  was  at  once 
brought  into  strong  relief.  His  petitions  were  disregarded ; 
the  privy  council  would  not  ratify  the  Book ;  the  lords 
determined  that  "  the  kirknien  shall  intromett  mth  the  2 
parts  of  their  benefices,  and  the  third  part  be  lifted  up  to 
the  ministers'  and  Queene's  use,"  or,  as  Knox  bitterly  said, 
two  parts  were  "  freelie  given  to  the  Devill "  and  the  third 
part  was  "  divided  between  God  and  the  Devill."  Even 
the  sixth  part  allowed  to  the  ministers  was  irregularly 
paid,  a  leading  subject  of  complaint  for  many  year.s. 
&30x's  next  struggle  was  i«  maintain  the  rlcrht  to  hold 


assemblies,  the  independence  of  which  was  the  essence  of 
the  kirk's  existence.  Against  Mary's  able  secretary,  iMait- 
land  of  Lethington,  he  threw  himself  with  his  whole  vigour 
into  this  vital  contest,  and  so  far  won  the  day  that  all 
Mary  could  gain  was  the  compromise  (important  in  prin- 
ciple) that  a  representative  of  the  crown  should  have  a 
place  in  the  meetings. 

The  next  struggle  was  on  the  question  of  patronage. 
The  church  requested  that  the  vacant  benefices,  about 
200  in  number,  might  be  filled  by  duly  qualified  persons. 
Mary  answered  that  she  would  not  give  up  her  right  of 
patronage.  The  church  replied  that  no  claim  was  made 
on  this  right,  only  it  was  desired  that  the  places  should  be 
filled,  and  that  the  church  should  have  the  right  of  collat- 
ing, after  approval  by  examination,  those  presented  by  the 
crown  or  patron.  The  church,  in  fact,  was  compelled  to 
admit  the  principle  of  lay  patronage.  This  was  accepted  in 
1567,  and  no  change  was  made  until  twenty  years  later, 
when  all  church  lands  not  already  bestowed  inalienably  on 
the  nobles  were  annexed  to  the  crown.  James  VI.  gave 
these  lands  lavishly  away  with  their  patronages,  which  thus 
became  lay  patronages.  Charles  I.  and  Laud  used  their 
best  efibrts,  but  in  vain,  to  regain  them.  The  church  pro- 
tested until  March  1649,  when  lay  patronage  was  altogether 
abolished.  It  was  naturally  restored  at  the  Eestoration, 
and  remained  until  the  Revolution.  On  19th  July  1690 
the  system  was  again  abolished,  and  the  nomination  to  a 
vacancy  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  Protestant  heritors 
and  elders  with  a  veto  to  the  whole  congregation.  In 
1712,  under  the  influences  of  the  Jacobite  revival,  the 
English  parliament  reimposed  lay  patronage.  This  Act, 
as  violating  the  Act  of  Security,  has  never  been  admitted 
as  valid  by  the  purer  Presbyterians. 

During  the  troublous  years  1566-67  the  kirk,  stable 
in  a  time  of  confusion,  consolidated  her  strength,  and 
within  her  own  bounds  established  the  strictest  discipline. 
In  1567  parliament  made  the  monarchy  Protestant,  ratified 
the  rights  of  the  church  to  collation,  and  established  the 
important  principle,  resisted  from  time  to  time,  that  the 
"thrids"  of  benefices  should  be  henceforth  collected  by 
persons  nominated  iy  herself,  and  that  she  should  pay  the 
surplus  into  the  exchequer  after  satisfying  the  ministers' 
stipends.  Her  progress  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact 
that,  while  in  1560  the  general  assembly  contained  only 
6  ministers  and  34  laymen,  in  1567  she  contained  252 
ministers  and  467  readers.  Her  power  is  seen  in  the  cen- 
sure passed  upon  the  countess  of  Argyll,  the  earl  being  the 
most  powerful  of  the  nobility,  for  assisting  at  the  baptism 
of  Mary'^  son  with  Catholic  rites. 

To  the  nobility,  which  retained  the  old  turbulence  of 
feudalism  that  had  long  ceased  to  be  tolerated  in  any  other 
country  in  Europe,  this  power  of  the  church  was  hateful, 
and  after  the  death  of  Murray  their  enmity  became  out- 
spoken. Morton,  acting  under  English  influence,  led  the 
attack.  In  1571,  the  Roman  Catholic  archbishop  of  St 
Andrews  having  died,  Jlorton  obtained  a  grant  of  the 
archbishopric  and  of  the  two-thirds  of  his  revenues  dis- 
posable, and,  by  appointing  a  minister  on  condition  that 
he  himself  should  retain  the  greater  part  of  the  income, 
gained  a  strong  footing  within  the  church.  In  Janus  ry 
1572  the  earl  of  Mar  got  together  the  superintendents  1 
and  some  ministers  at  Leith,  on  pretence  of  consultation. 
This  convention,  under  the  influence  of  the  nobility, 
assumed  the  functions  of  a  general  assembly,  and  restored 
the  titles  of  "  archbishop  "  and  "  bishop  ''  and  the  bounds  of 
the  dioceses,  on  the  conditions  that  they  should  be  chosen 
by  a  chapter  of  learned  ministers,  that  they  should  hC"/e 
no  more  power  than  the  superintendents,  and  that  they 
should  be  subject  to  the  general  assembly  in  spiritual 
matters.    These  were  the  "  tulchan  "  bishops.  ,  The  genera) 


flCOTLAND.J 


PREB13YTERIANISM 


68] 


assembly  of  August  1572  -was  not  strong  enongL  to  resist, 
The  effect  of  this  arrangement,  however,  was  to  rob  Episco- 
pacy, as  a  system,  of  all  title  to  respect.  It  soon  became 
the  earnest  belief  of  all  who  were  truthful  and  independent 
in  the  nation  that  the  Presbyterian  system  was  *hr  --at 
divinely  appointed  mode  of  church  government,  from  which 
it  was  sinful  to  deviate  in  the  slightest  degree. 

In  1574  Andrew  Melville  appeared  on  the  scene,  and,  by 
rteady  persistence  and  firm  defiance  of  Morton's  violence, 
gave  fresh  life  to  the  church.  The  Second  Book  of  Disci- 
pline, sanctioned  by  the  general  assembly  in  AprU  1578, 
•and  ordered  in  1581  to  be  registered  in  the  acts  of  the 
church,  represents  her  determination  to  repel  the  aggres- 
fsions  of  the  nobility.  It  was  decreed  that  no  more  bishops 
should  be  appointed,  that  the  existing  ones  should  be  called 
by  their  own  names,  not  by  their  titles,  and  that  they 
jhould  submit  to  the  general  assembly  for  disposal. 

The  First  Book  of  Discipline  occupied  itseh"  chiefly  with 
the  congregation,  the  Second  Book  with  the  dependence 
of  the  congregation  upon  higher  courts.  It  did  away  with 
superintendents  and  established  complete  parity  among 
ministers,  transferring  discipline  and  authority  from  indi- 
viduals to  bodies  of  men.  These  were  four.  ( 1 )  The  kirk 
session,  which  in  1587  was  ordered  to  be  subject  to  the 
presbytery.  (2)  The  presbytery  or  eldership,  which  had 
the  oversight  of  a  number  of  neighbouring  congregations, 
and  consisted  of  all  the  ministers  of  the  district,  and  as 
many  oldera  as  congregations,  so  that  clergy  and  laity  were 
equally  represented.  It  had  authority  to  control  the  kirk 
session,  try  candidates,  ordain  or  depose  ministers.  It 
constituted,  in  fact,  the  prominent  feature  of  the  system. 
(3)  The  provincial  synod,  composed  of  all  the  members  of 
the  presbjrteries  in  its  district,  had  jurisdiction  of  appeal 
over  these  presb3rteries.  (4)  The  general  assembly,  con- 
sisting of  ministers  and  elders,  chosen,  be  it  observed,  not 
from  the  provincial  synod,  but  from  the  presb3rtery.  Thus 
the  presbytery  took  the  same  commanding  position  in  Scot- 
land as,  it  will  be  seen,  the  provincial  synod  did  in  France. 
The  importance  of  these  church  courts  politically,  in  the 
organization  which  they  effected  of  the  toiddle  classes 
Bgainst  the  aristocracy,  cannot  be  overrated. 

The  ruling  elder  was  now  to  hold  office  for  life, — an 
important  limitation  of  the  power  of  the  .congregation. 
The  general  tendency  henceforward',  natural  in  a  complex 
society,  was  towards  centralization  ;  the  rights  of  the  con- 
gregation were  graduallydiminished,  those  of  the  presbytery 
increased.  This  tendency  was  strengthened  as  time  went 
on  by  the  passionate  hatred  of  the  Presbyterians  for  the 
congregational  system.  Thus  in  1639  Baillie  declares  that 
if  the  congregation  is  to  have  a  veto  upon  the  appointment 
of  the  minister  it  is  "sheer  Brownism"  (vol.  i.  p.  241); 
and  on  30th  July  1643,  although  "William  Eigg  and  the 
people  "  were  against  an  appointment,  the  intruder  was  de- 
cerned by  the  general  assembly  to  bo  admitted,  since  the 
patron,  presbytery,  and  provincial  synod  were  in  favour  of 
•it.  As  the  position  of  elder  increased  relatively  to  that  of 
simple  members  of  the  congregation,  so  the  position  of 
minister  increased  relatively  to  that  of  elder.  The  supre- 
macy of  ministers  and  the  subordination  of  the  elders 
rerched  their  height  after  the  great  rising  of  1638. 

The  contest  which  was  waged  during  1582-84  between 
the  Icirk  and  the  crpwn  was  chiefly  concerned  with  the 
deniil  by  Melville  of  the  primary  jurisdiction  of  the  privy 
council  over  ministers  summoned  for  offences  committed  in 
their  ministerial  capacity.  Ho  demanded  in  his  own  case 
to  be  tried,  in  the  first  instance,  by  the  ecclesiastical  courts. 
A  more  important  case  of  the  same  claim,  because  connected 
with  less  important  persons,  occurred  in  1591,  and  the  de- 
mand of  the  church  was  allowed  so  far  that  the  offender  was 
tried  in  both  courts  "oacuxrently.     In  May  1584  the  par- 


liament met  secretly  and,  having  been  thoroughly  corrupted 
by  the  court,  passed  the  "  Black  Acts."  Act  2  declared 
Melville's  claim  to  be  treason  ;  Act  4  forbade  presbyteries 
synods,  and  assemblies,  as  being  not  allowed  by  parliament 
A^t  20  re-established  .Episcopacy  and  made  it  treason  tc 
speak  against  any  of  the  three  estates  (e.g.,  bishops).  Phe 
king  was  made  supreme  in  all  cases  and  over  all  persons, 
while  none  were  to  presume  "  to  meddle  with  the  affairs 
of  his  Highness  and  estate."  The  course  of  events  from 
1584  to  1592,  the  fear  of  Catnolic  Spain,  the  league  with 
England,  and  especially  the  ability  of  Eobert  Bruce  led  tc 
a  settlement,  by  which  in  May  1592  Presbyterianism  was 
restored  and  ratified  by  parliament.  It  was  of  course  a 
compromise,  as  is  shown  in  the  provision  that,  if  a  presby- 
tery refuse  to  admit  a  qualified  minister,  the  patron  may 
retain  the  income. 

The  quarrel,  however,  was  not  to  be  settled.  For  re- 
jecting the  bin  of  attainder  against  the  popish  lords  the 
synod  of  Fife  excommunicated  James  and  convened  a 
meeting  from  the  whole  kingdom  to  complain  of  his  con- 
duct. A  little  later  Andrew  Melville,  when  sent  xm  a 
deputation,  called  James  "  God's  silly  vassal,"  and  told 
him  that  there  were  two  kings  and  two  kingdoms  in  Scot- 
land, King  James  the  head  of  the  commonwealth  and 
Christ  Jesus  the  head  of  the  church,  whose  subject  he  was. 
James,  however,  was  strong  enough  to  remain  inflexible 
and  to  secure  a  victory  on  the  question  of  the  church 
courts,  which,  in  the  case  of  David  Black,  one  of  the 
ministers  of  St  Andrews,  who  had  in  a  sermon  reflected 
upon  the  queen  and  Church  of  England,  had  arisen  in  its 
most  acute  form. 

Two  alternative  steps  Were  now  suggested  for  prevent- 
ing future  strife,  the  establishment  of  Episcopacy  or  the 
admission  into  parliament  of  representatives  of  the  church 
without  any  title  or  jurisdiction  derived  from  the  crown. 
In  a  general  assembly  opened  at  Perth  on  29th  February 
1597,  and  packed  with  ministers  from  the  remote  northern 
presbyteries,  where  the  democratic  spirit  of  the  High 
Presbyterians  of  the  South  was  unknown,  James  obtained 
leave  to  suggest  in  a  future  assembly  alterations  in  the 
existing  government  of  the  church,  a  disapproval  of  the 
discussion  of  state  questions  and  of  the  denunciation  of 
individuals  from  the  pulpit,  and  the  forbidding  of  extra- 
ordinary conventions.  Ministers  were  also  to  confine  their 
discourses  strictly  to  their  own  congregations,  and  summary 
excommunication  was  abolished.  He  had  previously  with 
a  high  hand  put  down  the  opposition  of  the  Edinburgh 
ministers,  Bruce  and  others  seeking  safety  in  flight. 

In  April,  at  Dundee,  an  assembly  similar  to  that  of 
Perth  consented  that  commissioners  should  be  appointed 
to  advise  the  king  on  church  affairs,  which  step  in  a  great 
degree  freed  him  from  the  general  assembly.  These  com- 
missioners were  easily  induced  to  petition  that  the  church 
might  be  represented  in  i>arliament.  Parliament  thereupon 
passed  an  Act  allowing  those  to  sit  there  who  might  be  ap- 
pointed by  the  king,  as  bishop,  abbot,  or  other  prelate,  the 
duties  of  their  offices  to  be  determined  in  conference  with 
the  assembly.  At  the  second  assembly  of  Dundee,  how- 
ever, which  met  on  7th  March  1598,  and  at  which  Andrew 
Melville  was  refused  admittance  by  James  on  frivolous 
though  legal  grounds,  it  was  resolved  that  fifty-one  repre- 
sentatives of  the  church,  chosen  partly  by  the  king  and 
partly  by  the  chujch,  should  vote  in  parliament.  At  a 
convention  held  at  Falkland  on  25th  July,  at  which  throe 
representatives  of  each  synod  and  six  doctors  of  the 
universities  were  present,  it  was  decided  that  the  repre- 
sentatives should  be  nominated  by  the  king  out  of  a  list 
of  six  as  vacancies  occurred.  They  were  to  be  respon- 
sible to  the  general  assembly,  and  were  to  propose  nothing 
unless  instructed  to  do  so  bv  the  church.     Of  these  two 


382 


ERESBYTERIANISM 


[' 


SCOTLAND. 


plans,  the  parliaments  and  the  church's,  James  greatly 
preferred  the  former ;  to  induee  the  church  to  agree  to  it 
Ee  held  a  conference  previous  to  the  general  assembly  at 
Montrose  in  1600,  but  in  vain.  At  Montrose  the  assembly 
put  limitations  to  the  plan  of  the  Falkland  convention  by 
insisting  that  their  representatives  should  sit  but  for  one 
year,  and  that  at  the  end  of  that  year  they  should  resign 
and  account  for  their  conduct  to  the  assembly,  which  might 
depose  them.  They  were  to  be  called  commissioners  only. 
Six  were  to  be  nominated  for  each  province,  from  whom  the 
king  was  to  choose  one.'  The  commissioner  was  to  have 
no  power  above  that  of  other  ministers,  was  to  perform 
full  pastoral  work,  and  was  to  lose  his  vote  in  parliament 
if  deposed  from  the  ministry. 

James  at  length  took  a  decisive  step.  On  14th  October 
J  600  he  summoned  a  convention  of  commissioners  from 
the  various  synods,  and  by  some  means  secured  its  consent 
to  the  appointment  of  three  bishops  in  addition  to  those 
formerly  nominated  and  still  living.  They  took  their  seats 
and  voted  in  parliament  next  November ;  but  the  church, 
disowning  the  authority  of  the  convention,  refused  to  ac- 
knowledge the  appointment  as  valid,  and  assigned  them 
no  place  in  her  own  organization.  The  quarrel  became 
intensified  when  James  was  master  of  the  power  of  corrup- 
tion with  English  money.  The  proposals  for  union  between 
the  kingdoms  at  once  brought  out  the  views  of  the  church. 
"The  rcahncs,"  said  Jlelvillc,  "could  not  be  united  with- 
out the  union  of  the  kirk ;  neither  could  the  kirkes  be 
united  in  discipline,  the  one  being  Episcopal  and  the  other 
Presbyterian,  unless  one  should  surrender  to  the  other." 
KVhen  James  twice  prorogued  the  meeting  of  the  general 
assembly  nine  presbyteries  met  at  Aberdeen  in  defiance. 
The  Government  at  once  struck  hard :  eight  ministers 
|Were  banished  to  remote  charges  and  six- to  France.  Next 
followed  the  alienation  of  church  lands  and  revenues  and 
'their  erection  into  temporal  lordships,  the  re-establishment 
of  seventeen  prelacies,  and  the  restoration  of  the  bishops. 
[The  immense  step  was  taken  of  recognizing  the  king  as 
l' absolute  prince,  judge,  and  governor  over  all  estates, 
persons,  and  causes,  both  spiritual  and  temporal."  In 
1606  another  packed  assembly  declared  for  constant 
moderators  of  presbyteries  and  for  the  supremacy  of  the 
bishops  in  their  own  presbytery  and  provincial  synod.  In 
|l609  the  bishops  gained  the  right  of  fixing  ministers' 
stipends.  In"  1610  courts  of  high  commission  with  most 
arbitrary  powers  were  erected  at  Glasgow  and  St  Andrews  ; 
'and  in  June  the  general  assembly  placed  the  whole  ecclesi- 
'astical  power  in  the  king's  hands.  In  1618,  under  threats 
'of  violence,  the  general  assembly  of  Perth  passed  the  Five 
Acts,  which  enforced  kneeling  at  communion,  observance 
pi  holy  days,  Episcopal  confirmation,  private  baptism,  and 
private  communion.  These  were  ratified  by  parliament  on 
Black  Saturday,  4  th  August  1621.  Thus  matters  remained 
until  the  death  of  James. 

Almost  the  first  act  of  Charles  i.  was  to  proclaim  the 
strict  observance  of  the  articles  of  Perth.  In  November 
1625  he  revoked  all  the  Acts  of  his  father  prejudicial  to 
the  crown,  as  a  first  step  toward  the  resumption  of  the 
church  lands.  This,  of  course,  met  with  the  vehement 
opposition  of  the  nobility,  and  the  sdieme  in  the  end  had 
to  be  given  up.  In  1630  Maxwell,  in  Laud's  confidence, 
was"  sent  to  Scotland  to  try  to  force  upon  the  people  the 
English  liturgy.  It  is  significant  of  the  change  in  feeling 
that  a  paper  of  grievances  sent  in  by  ministers  was  sup- 
ported by  several  of  the  nobility.  Their  hatred  was  always 
directed  to  the  nearest  enemy,  against  the  crown  before 
the  Reformation  and  during  its  early  stages,  against  the 
Refonned  Church  of  late  years,  now '"against  the  crown 
again.  In  1033  Charles  came  to  Edinburgh  and  forced 
through  the  convention  the  "  Act  anent  his  Majesty's  Pre- 


rogative and  Apparel  of  Churchmen,"  a  combination  of 
two  Acts  passed  in  1606  and  1609  respectively.  All  pro- 
tests were  disregarded  and  the  whole  nation  was  thrown 
into  a  state  of  anger  and  disappointment.  The  attack  on 
Balmerino  still  further  alienated  the  lords.  In  1635  dio- 
cesan courts  were  erected  with  the  most  vexatious  powers, 
and  the  Book  of  Canons,  subversive  of  Presbyterianism  and 
insulting  in  language,  was  distributed  ;  and  in  1636  the 
people  were  ordered  to  adopt  Laud's  book  of  public  wor- 
ship ;  while  in  July  1637  the  prelates  obtained  an  order  of 
outlawry  against  ministers  who  should  be  backward  in  re- 
ceiving the  liturgy.  As  Baillie  said,  they  were  like  to  go 
"  to  Rome  for  religion,  to  Constantinople  for  policy."  On 
23d  July,  however,  the  outburst  of  St  Giles's  took  place. 
The  history  of  the  great  rising  cannot  be  traced  here.  The 
National  Covenant,  which  was  its  outcome,  drawn  up  by 
Alexander  Hendereon  and  Johnston  of  Warriston,  consisted 
of  the  Second  Book  of  Discipline,  a  recapitulation  of  the 
Acts  of  Parliament  condemning  Poperj'  and  ratifying  the 
acts  of  the  general  assembly,  and  the  application  of  the 
whole  to  present  times. 

After  some  months  of  trickery  and  evasion,  frustrated 
with  firmness  and  ability  b}'  the  Covenanters,  the  general 
assembly  met  on  Wednesday,  21st  November  1638. 
When  they  determined  to  sit  in  judgment  on  the  prelates, 
Hamilton,  the  king's  commissioner,  dissolved  the  assembly. 
It,  however,  continued  its  sitting,  refused  to  acki^wledge 
the  assemblies  which  had  introduced  prelacy,  condemned 
the  Acts  of  Perth  and  all  the  late  iimovations,  and  abjured 
all  Episcopacy  different  from  that  of  a  pastor  over  a  parti- 
cular flock.  Baillie  alone  made  a  stand  for  not  rejecting 
Episcopacy  as  represented  by  the  superintendents  of  Knox's 
time.  Eight  prelates  were  excommunicated,  four  deposed 
only,  two  reduced  to  the  simple  pastorate.  All  church 
assemblies  were  restored,  and  the  principle  that  the  con- 
sent of  the  congregation  was.  necessary  to  a  minister's 
appointment  was  re-enacted.  Schools  and  schoolmasters 
were  at  once  to  be  provided.  In  August  1639  an  Act  was 
passed,  called  the  Barrier  Act,  that  no  change  should  be 
made  in  the  law's  of  the  church  until  the  proposal  had 
been  submitted  to  all  provincial  synods  and  presbyteries. 

The  church  was  now  secure.  She  had  gained  the  day, 
because  on  this  occasion  the  zeal  of  her  ministers  and  the 
interests  of  the  nobles  had  been  both  enlisted  m  her 
service.  The  victory  had  been  won  in  her  name  and  the 
influence  of  her  ministers  was  vastly  increased.  For  the 
spiritual  tyranny  which  they  introduced  the  reader  should 
refer  to  Mr  Buckle's  famous  chapter ;  or,  if  he  think  those 
statements  to  be  partial  or  exaggerated,  to  original  records, 
such  as  those  of  the  presbyteries  of  St  Andrews  and  Cupar. 
The  arrogance  of  the  ministers'  pretensions  and  the  readi- 
ness with  which  these  pretensions  were  granted,  the  appal- 
ling conceptions  of  the  Deity  which  were  inculcated  and  the 
absence  of  all  contrary  expression  of  opinion,  the  intrusions 
on  the  domain  of  the  magistrate,  the  vexatious  inter- 
ference in  every  detail  of  family  and  commercial  life  and 
the  patience  with  which  it  was  borne,  are  to  an  English 
reader  alike  amazing.  "  We  acknowledge,"  said  they, 
"  that  according  to  the  latitude  of  the  word  of  God  (which 
is  our  theame)  we  are  allowed  to  treate  in  an  ecclesiastical 
way  of  greatest  and  smallest,  from  the  King's  throne  that 
should  be  established  in  righteousness,  to  the  iiierchant's 
ballance  that  should  be  used  in  faithfulness."  The  liber- 
ality of  the  interpretation  given  to  this  can  only  be  judged 
of  after  minute  reading.  ^ 

'  Up  to  this  point  the  Kirk  had  worked  out  her  own 
salvation  ;  i.the  problem  had  been  purely  Scottish  ;  hence- 
forward her  history  is  in  close  connexion  with  that  of 
England  and  assumes  a  difi"erent  complexion.  Her -first 
difficulties,  however,  arose  in  her  own  midst.'^  UiMer  tlie 


SCOTLAND.! 


PRESBYTERIANISM 


083 


prelatic  rule  conventicles  had  arisen,  ■which  after  the  re- 
j  storation  of  Presbyterianism  caused  great  searchings  of 

Ij  heart.     Whatever  he  had  to  say  about  popery,  prelacy,  or 

arbitrary  power,  the  true  Presbyterian  reserved  his  fiercest 
hatred  and  his  most  ferocious  language  for  anything  which 
savoured  of  Congregationalism.  At  the  instance  of  Henry 
Guthrie,  who  under  Charles  II.  became  a  bishop,  the 
general  assembly  of  1640  limited  family  worship  to  the 
members  of  each  family,  and  forbade  any  one  to  preach 
who  was  not  duly  ordained  and  approved.  This  was  but 
the  beginning  of  dissension. 

Passing  over  the  events  of  the  next  six  years,  as  coming 
more  conveniently  under  the  head  of  England,  we  notice 
that  the  moment  external  danger  was  removed  the  natural 
and  abiding  antipathy  between  a  licentious  and  entirely 
selfish  aristocracy  and  a  masterful,  censorious,  and  demo- 
cratic church  broke  out.  Two  parties  showed  themselves, 
— that  of  the  ministers,  who  insisted  that  no  arrangement 
should  be  come  to  with  Charles  unless  he  would  take 
the  Covenant  (compare  the  French  "  consistoriaux "),  the 
other,  headed  by  Hamilton,  Lanark,  Lauderdale,  and  others, 
who." engaged"  to  raise  an  army  for  him  on  condition, 
ostensibly, .  that  he  would  confirm  Presbyterian  church 
government  for  three  years.  The  real  conditions,  as  long 
believed  but  only  just  discovered,^  contain  not  a  word  about 
the  church,  but  are  entirely  concerned  with  the  privileges  of 
the  Scottish  nobility.  A  vehement  disruption  of  the  church 
at  once  took  place  and  did  not  cease  until  the  defeat  of 
Hamilton.  Then  the  ministers  were  once  more  masters. 
Parliament  repealed  the  Act  of  Engagement  and  passed  the 
Act  of  Classes,  whereby  all  those  to  whom  the  church 
deemed  it  inexpedient  to  give  political  power  were  regis- 
tered in  four  classes  according  to  their  faults.  It  was  by 
this  parliament  that  lay  patronage  was  abolished,  and  that 
the  rights  of  the  congregation  as  to  election  of  ministers 
were  settled  for  the  time.  After  the  battle  of  Dunbar, 
wheii  troops  were  being  hastily  raised,  the  Act  of  Classes 
stood  much  in  the  way.  In  spite. of  the  remonstrances  of 
Patrick  Gillespie  and  the  western  Covenanters,  the  com- 
mission of  the  assembly  (which  sat  en  permanence  during 
the  recess  of  the  assembly  itself)  resolved  to  allow  all  persons 
to  serve  who  were  not  professed  enemies  to  the  Covenant 
or  excommunicated.  The  parliament  went  further  and 
rescinded  the  Act  of  Classes  altogether.  Against  this 
union  of  the  church  with  the  "malignants"  Gillespie's 
faction  protested,  and  henceforward  the  rivalry  and  bitter- 
ness between  Resolutioners  and  Protesters,  the  latter  being 
favoured  by  Cromwell,  deprived  tbe  church  of  much  of  its 
power  of  resistance.  Both  parties,  absorbed  in  their  quarrel, 
looked  on  while  Monk,  after  the  battle  of  Worcester  (1651), 
took  the  matter  into  his  own  hands  by  refusing  to  allow 
any  general  assembly  whatever  to  meet,  though  he  per- 
mitted the  continuance  of  the  other  assemblies. 
rn.-  Within  two  years  of  the  Restoration  the  Presbyterian 
j_  Church  ceased  to  exist.  Weariness,  internal  dLssension, 
i-icv.  the  indifference  or  positive  hatred  of  the  nobles,  and  the 
extremity  of  treachery  in  James  Sharp-  brought  about  the 
downfall.  The  steps  by  which  Episcopacy  was  restored 
were  these.  The  leaders  of  the  strict  Covenanting  party 
were  imprisoned,  while  a  quibbling  proclamation  was  issued 
by  Charles  .which  served  to  keep  the  Resolutioners  in  play. 
Proclamations  were  issued  against  all  unlawful  meetings, 
and  papers  such  as  Rutherford's  Lex  Rex  and  Guthrie's 
Cduset  of  God's  Wrath  were  called  in.  In  January  1661 
a  bribed  and  packed  parliament  passed  an  oath  of  allegiance 
in  which  the  king  was  acknoNvledged  as  supreme  over  all 
persons  and  in  all  causes.     With  scarcely  an  exception, 

'  See  Laudrrdale  Paper),  vol.  i.  p.  3  (Cam<ien  Society). 
'  For  proof  of  Ills  active  parlicipntion  in  the  re-cstablishment  of 
Episcocacy,  sca  SjiuderdaU  Papers,  vol.  ii.,  App.  III. 


Cassilis  being  the  only  one  of  note,  the  nobility  took  the 
oath.  Next  the  acceptance  of  the  Solemn  League  and 
Covenant  was  declared  null  and  void,  and  its  renewal  was 
prohibited.  And,  by  way  of  clearing  the  field  entirely,  a 
Rescissory  Act  was  passed  annulling  all  the  parliaments 
since  1G33  and  thereby  suspending  the  Presbyterian  system. 
The  parliament  then  declared  that  the  church  government 
was  to  be  such  as  was  most  agreeable  to  the  word  of  God, 
to  monarchical  government,  and  to  public  peace ;  re^ 
monstrances  were  disregarded  and  synods  suppressed  or 
corrupted.  Argyll  and  James  Guthrie  were  judicially 
murdered.  Finally,  on  14th  August  1661,  Episcopacy  was 
restored  by  proclamation ;  Sharp,  Fairfoul,  Hamilton,  and 
Leighton  were  consecrated  in  London  ;  and  on  2d  January 
1662  all  Presbyterian  assemblies  of  every  sort,  unless  autho- 
rized by  the  prelates,  were  forbidden.  On  8th  May  the 
proclamation  was  enforced  by  Act  of  parliament.  All  reli- 
gious covenants  and  leagues,  protestations  and  petitions, 
were  made  treasonable,  nor  might  any  one  be  professor, 
minister,  schoolmaster,  or  private  tutor  without  a  bishop's 
licence.  On  5th  September  1662  the  abjuration  of  the 
National  Covenant  and  all  other  religious  covenants  was 
made  a  condition  for  public  trust.  Finally,  the  Act  of 
Indemnity,  which  had  been  delayed  as  long  as  possible, 
contained  a  schedule  of  persons  of  the  Presbyterian  interest 
who  were  punished  with  heavy  fines.  Dangerous  ministers 
were  banished  from  Edinburgh  and  all  were  ordered  to 
attend  the  bishops'  courts  when  summoned,  while  by  the 
Glasgow  Act  ministers  who  had  taken  charges  since  1649 
were  ousted  from  home,  parish,  and  presbytery  unless  be- 
fore 1st  November  they  obtained  presentation  from  the 
patron  and  collation  from  the  bishop.  This  led  to  the 
ejectment  of  400  ministers.  Ejectment  led,  of  course,  as 
in  England,  to  conventicling,  and  on  17th  June  and  13th 
August  1663  severe  Acts  were  passed  against  these  meet- 
ings. Presbyterian  ministers  from  Ireland  were  forbidden 
to  reside  in  Scotland,  and  absentees  from  public  worship 
were  vigorously  proceeded  against.  The  system  of  perse- 
cution was  now  complete,  and  the  triumph  was  signalized 
by  the  execution  of  Johnston  of  Warriston,  who  had  been 
kidnapped  in  France  and  who  was  now  put  to  death  with 
flippant  cruelty.  In  1664,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  arch- 
bishops Sharp  and  Burnet,  a  court  of  high  commission  was 
erected  with  unlimited  powers. 

Revolt  soon  followed  ;  it  was  crushed  at  Pentland  and 
ruthlessly  punished.  But  the  nobles  speedily  became 
jealous  of  the  growing  power  of  the  prelates.  Lauderdale 
in  especial  saw  his  influence  threatened.  He  reported  to 
Charles  that  Prelacy  was  becoming  as  great  a  danger  to 
the  crown  as  Presbyterianism  had  been,  "so  unwilling  are 
churchmen,  by  whatever  name  they  are  distinguished,  to 
part  wth  power."  Sharp  was  easily  threatened  and 
cajoled,  and  Burnet,  after  a  struggle  of  three  years,  was 
forced  to  resign.  It  was  not,  however,  until  after  the 
fall  of  Clarendon  in  1667  that  indulgence  was  seriously 
tried  there  as  in  England.  In  July  1669  ten  ministers, 
of  whom  Hutcheson  was  the  chief,  who  were  willing  to 
admit  the  ecclesiastical  supremacy  of  the  king  and  to 
accept  the  bishops'  collation,  were  allowed  to  return  to 
their  livings,  and  were  henceforth  known  as  the  "bishops' 
curates."  This  subservience  caused  a  renewal  of  the  breach 
in  the  church;  from  henceforward  the  feud  between  the 
"  Indulged  "  and  the  "  non-Indulged  "  took  the  place  of 
that  between  Resolutioners  and  Protesters.  Forty-two 
ministers  accepted  the  indulgence.  A  second  indulgence 
followed  in  1672.  From  Lauderdale's  niArriage  with  Lady 
Dysart  until  1687  there  ensued  a  policy  of  extermination, 
borne  with  marvellous  fortitude.  To  Covenanters  had 
succeeded  Protesters,  to  Protesters  Conventiclers,  to  Con- 
venticlers  now  succeeded  Hnmiltonians.   to  Hamiltonians 


684 


PRESBYTERIANISM 


[SCOTLAND. 


Cameronians  or  Society  People.  Want  of  space  prevents 
ns  from  giving  even  the  names  of  a  series  of  Acts  which 
would  disgrace  any  nation  however  barbarous,  in  any  age 
however  intolerant,  and  under  which,  it  is  asserted  with 
great  probability,  18,000  persons  died.  In  February  1687 
James  11.  proclaimed  indulgences  to  moderate  Presby- 
terians as  far  only  as  regarded  private  worship.  By  the 
Bame  proclamation  the  profession  of  Roman  Catholicism 
was  made  absolutely  free.  Id  March  a  more  extended  in- 
dulgence and  in  June  the  suspension  of  all  penal  laws, 
except  as  regarded  field -preaching,  were  granted.  The 
party  which  had  throughout  refused  compromise  refused  it 
BtiU.  In  their  Informatory  Vindication  they  scouted  the 
claim  of  the  sovereign  to  "indulge"  or  to. " tolerate "  an 
inalienable  right,  and  went  on  with  their  field-preaching 
as  though  nothing  had  happened.  The  death  of  Ren  wick, 
their  leader,  closes  the  awful  story  of  the  rule  of  the  later 
Stuarts  in  Scotland. 

On  5th  November  1688  William  landed  at  Torbay;  the 
^ishops'  curates  were  ejected  without  violence;  no  retri- 
bution was  taken,  but  Presbyterianism  quietly  reasserted 
itself  as  the  form  of  church  government  natural  to  the 
Scottish  mind.  Presbyterianism,  however,  was  not  now 
what  it  had  been  in  the  days  of  Andrew  MelviUe  or  in 
1638.  The  last  twenty-six  years  had  thoroughly  cowed  a 
great  part  of  the  nation,  and  a  new  generation  had  come 
to  manhood  who  could  not  even  remember  the  time  when 
Scotland  was  not  Episcopal.  The  nobles  had  no  interest 
tp  serve  in  re-establishing  the  old  form  ;  the  very  ministers 
were  those  who  had  conformed  or  had  accepted  indulgence. 
Out  of  the  400  ejected  in  1663  only  sixty  now  survived. 
Moreover,  Scotland  had  not  escaped  the  wave  of  latitudi- 
narianism  that  had  come  over  all  forms  of  Protestant  reli- 
gion. Most  of  all,  the  character  of  William  III.  and  his 
confidential  adviser  Carstares  afi"ected  the  nature  of  the 
settlement.  William  was  above  all  a  statesman,  and  a  toler- 
ant statesman,  and  he  wished  for  union  of  the  moderate 
parties  in  both  kingdoms ;  on  taking  the  coronation  oath  he 
refused  to  swear  the  cla".i3e  binding  him  to  root  out  heretics 
and  enemies  of  the  true  worship  of  God.  The  claim  of  right, 
too,  avoids  any  assertion  of  the  jus  divinum  of  Presby- 
terianism. But  on  22d  July  1689  its  declaration  that 
prelacy  had  been  an  insupportable  grievance  was  made  into 
an  Act  by  the  convention  of  estates,  and  all  Acts  in  favour 
of  Episcopacy  were  rescinded.  In  April  1690  the  Act  of 
Supremacy  was  also  rescinded ;  ministers  ejected  since 
1661  were  replaced,  and  the  Presbyterian  government  of 
1592  (thus  avoiding  all  mention  of  the  covenants)  restored; 
lay  patronage  was  abolished,  but  pecuniary  compensation 
was  granted.  On  16th  October  1690  the  first  general 
assembly  since  1653  met,  when  the  preliminary  act  was  to 
receive  into  the  national  church  the  remaining  three 
ministers  of  the  Cameronians  (Thomas  Lining,  Alexander 
Shields,  and  William  Boyd).  Their  followers,  however, 
regarded  this  as  a  compromise  with  Satan,  and  kept  them- 
selves 'aloof.  1  Episcopalian  ministers  who  subscribed  the 
confession  and  obeyed  the  Presbyterian  government  re- 
tained their  livings,  and  all  sentences  of  Resolutioners  and 
Protesters  against  one  another  were  rescinded.    Mr  Hether- 

'  They  remained  without  a  minister  until  1707,  \v1ien  they  were 
joined  by  John  M'Millan,  minister  of  the  parish  of  Balmaghie,  who 
had  been  summarily  deposed  for  principles  akin  to  those  of  the  Society 
People.  The  accession  of  Thomas  Nairn,  one  of  the  ministers  of  the 
Secession  Church,  made  a  "Reformed  Presbytery"'  possible  in  1743  ; 
t^is  became  a  synod  of  three  presbyteries  in  1811.  The  first  "Testi- 
niony,"  published  in  1761,  was  afterwards  superseded  by  that  of  1839, 
•which  thenceforward  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  "  subordinate  stand- 
ards "  of  the  Reformed  Presbyterian  Church.  !&  1S76  before  the 
nnion  -with  the  Free  Church  (see  vol.  ix.  p.  746)  the  denomination  in 
Scotland  numbered  6  presbyteries,  38  ministers,  and  40  congregations. 
It  also  had  six  missionaries  in  the  New  Hebrides.  For  the  fortunes  of 
the  Reformed  presbyteries  in  Ireland  and  the  United  diaies,  oeo  below. 


ington  well  says,  "Without  a  clear  conception  of  this  point 
it  is  impossible  to  understand  the  subsequent  history  of  the 
Chtirch  of  Scotland.  In  consequence  of  the  introduction 
of  the  prelatic  party  the  church  thenceforward  contained 
within  its  pale  two  systems,  that  of  the  old  and  true  Pres- 
byterian, subsequently  known  as  the  '  evangelical,'  and  that 
of  the  new  and  semi-prelatical,  subsequently  known  as  the 
'  moderate.'  Thenceforward  the  liistory  of  the  Church  of 
Scotland  is  the  liistory  of  the  protracted  struggle  between 
these  two  systems,  which  were  necessarily  irreconcilable." 

In  the  first  case  of  friction  with  the  crown,  which  occurred 
in  1691,  a  compromise  was  effected, — the  church  success- 
fully asserting  its  autonomy  by  granting  only  part  of  the 
privileges  which  William  desired  for  the  Episcopal  clerg)'. 
The  critical  dispute  occurred  when  parliament  imposed  a 
new  oath  of  allegiance,  the  taking  of  which  was  made  a 
necessary  qualification  for  sitting  in  the  assembly.'  The 
church  denied  the  right  of  the  crown  to  impose  a  civil 
oath  as  a  condition  of  spiritual  office  ;  and  a  serious  breach 
would  have  occurred  but  for  the  efforts  of  Carstares,  who 
induced  the  king  to  give  way  at  the  last  moment.  Having 
thus  asserted  her  independence,  the  church  conceded  to 
William  nearly  all  he  had  asked  for  on  behalf  of  the 
Episcopalians.  In  1696  the  parish  schools  were  estab- 
lished. In  1698,  to  vindicate  the  church  from  the  charges  of 
backsliding,  the  general  assembly  published  the  Season- 
able Admonition,  which  claimed  in  emphatic  language  the 
dependence  of  the  church  on  Christ  alone,  and  repudiated 
the  doctrine  that  the  inclination  of  the  people  was  the 
foundation  of  Presbyterianism.  In  1701  the  first  con- 
demnation of  heresy  took  place. 

The  spirit  of  watchfulness  on  the  part  of  the  church 
increased  during  Anne's  reign.  In  naming  commissioners 
for  the  Union  the  parliament  forbade  them  to  mention 
the  church.  The  extreme  section  indeed  regarded  the 
Union  itself  as  a  violation  of  the  Solemn  League  and 
Covenant.  The  Act  of  Security  provided  that  the  Con- 
fession of  Faith  and  the  Presbyterian  government  should 
"continue  without  any  alteration  to  the  people  of  this 
land  in  all  succeeding  ages,"  and  the  first  oath  taken  by 
the  queen  at  her  accession  was  to  preserve  it.  The  Union, 
however,  tended  to  Anglicize  the  upper  classes  and  thus  to 
increase  the  latitudinarianism  which  was  finding  its  way 
within  the  church.  Politically  speaking,  the  settlement  of 
the  Scottish  Church  was  of  great  importance  to  the  Govern- 
ment during  the  Jacobite  intrigues,  for  its  attitude  was  one 
of  vigilance  against  all  that  was  favourable  to  Prelacy,  and 
its  influence  consolidated  opinion  against  the  Stuarts. 

The  High-Church  revival  of  1710,  however,  had  its 
effect  upon  the  church.  In  1711  aij  Episcopalian  named 
Greenshields  used  the  English  liturgy  in  Edinburgh.  He 
was  condemned  by  the  Court  of  Session ;  but  the  House 
of  Lords  reversed  the  decision  and  imposed  heavy  damages 
on  the  magistrates  who  had  closed  his  chapel.  In  1712 
a  Bin  of  Toleration,  which  allowed  Episcopalian  dissenters 
to  use  the  English  littirgy,  was  hurried  ■  through  both 
Houses,  in  spite  of  the  urgent  remonstrances  of  the  Scottish 
commissioners,  and  on  2  2d  April  lay  patronage  was 
restored.  This  latter  Act,  as  violating  the  Act  of  Security, 
has  never  been  regarded  as  valid  by  the  severer  Presby- 
terians. That  no  further  resistance  was  made  than  by 
protests  and  petitions  shows  how  far  the  "  moderatizing  " 
spirit  had  spread.  The  remnant  of  the  Cameronians,  who 
were  outside  of  and  discouraged  by  the  church,  alone  met 
and  renewed  the  Covenant  after  solemnly  acknowledging 
the  sins  of  the  nation. 

The  progress  towards  Arminianism,  due  to  the  influence 
of  Baxter's  writings  and  to  the  training  of  the  young 
ministers  in  Holland,  may  be  seen  in  the  treatment  of 
T'r-jfessor  Simson  and  in  the  Auehterarder  case.     It  wat 


KNGLAifD.j 


PRESBYTEKIANIS]\I 


685 


now  that  Neonomianism,  or  the  doctrine  that  the  gospel 
is  a  new  law,  promising  salvation  upon  the  condition  of 
the  abandonment  of  sin,  began.  Its  first  victory  was 
when  the  general  assembly  condemned  the  doctrines  of 
the  Marrow  of  Modern  Divinity,  and  rebuked  the  twelve 
ministers  who  had  sent  in  a  representatioi;  against  the 
decision.  The  Patronage  Act  was  rapidly  being  accepted 
and  was  showing  its  effects  chiefly  in  the  neglect  shown 
to  the  wishes  of  the  congregations.  In  1731  the  right 
was  given  to  the  heritors  and  elders  to  "  elect  and  call " 
instead  of  to  "  name  and  propose  the  person  to  the  whole 
congregation  to  be  appro ven  or  disapproven,"  and  was 
made  law  without  having  first  been  submitted  to  the  pres- 
byteries according  to  the  Barrier  Act  of  1639.  This  led  to 
the  first  great  schism.  Ebenezer  Erskine  denounced  the 
action  of  the  assembly  in  two  sermons.  Being  rebuked 
by  the  synod  of  Perth  and  Stirling,  he  appealed  to  the 
assembly,  who  approved  the  rebuke.  With  three  other 
ministers  he  protested.  The  four  were  temporarily  deposed 
by  the  assembly,  and  on  6tfi  December  1733  they  formed 
the  "  Associate  Presbytery."  In  1737  their  number  was 
largely  increased,  and  they  published  their  manifesto,  the 
"  Declaration  and  Testimony."  Their  final  deposition,  and 
the  first  schism,  occurred  on  15th  May  1740. 

For  several  years  the  wishes  of  congregations  were 
ignored;  wherever  the  presbytery  refused  to  appoint  at  the 
will  of  the  assembly,  a  "  riding  committee,"  often  assisted 
by  military  force,  carried  out  the  decision.  The  civil  courts 
were  bound  to  obey  the  Act  of  Patronage,  and  therefore 
never  upheld  the  congregation  against  a  legal  appoint- 
ment. At  length  in  1752  the  leader  of  the  "moderate" 
party.  Principal  Robertson,  seeing  in  this  refusal  of  pres- 
byteries the  elements  of  endless  confusion,  and  that  tem- 
porary substitutes,  e.g.,  riding  committees,  were  uncon- 
stitutional and  bad  in  principle,  determined  that  the 
presbyteries  themselves  should  be  compelled  to  carry  out 
the  decisions  of  the  assembly.  From  the  deposition  of 
Thomas  Gillespie  {q.v^,  a  member  of  the  presbytery  of 
Dunfermline,  who  refused  to  act  in  accordance  with  the 
assembly's  decision,  is  dated  the  second  or  "Eelief  "  schism. 
Principal  Tulloch  says  upon  this  :  "  The  policy  was  so  far 
Buccesfful ;  but  the  success  was  of  that  nature  which  is 
almost  worse  than  defeat.  It  introduced  order  vrithia  the 
church.  It  crushed  the  revolt  of  presbyteries.  It  silenced 
in  many  cases  popular  clamour.  But  it  quietly  and 
gradually  alienated  masses  of  the  people  from  the  estab- 
lishment." So  rapidly  did  dissent  spread  that  from  a 
report  presented  to  the  general  assembly  in  1765  it 
appears  that  "there  are  now  120  meeting-houses  erected, 
to  which  more  than  100,000  persons  resort,  who  were 
formerly  of  our  communion,  but  have  separated  them- 
selves from  the  Church  of  Scotland.  This  secession,"  the 
report  adds,  "  is  most  extensive  in  the  greatest  and  most 
populous  towns."  For  the  subsequent  history  of  Presby- 
terianism  In  Scotland,  see  Free  Church,  United  Presby- 
terian Church,  and  Scotland  (Church  of).' 

England. — Several  faint  traces  may  be  noted  of  the 
presence  of  Presbyterian  ideas  in  England  within  a  few 
years  of  the  Reformation.     During  the  reign  of  Edward 


'  Oiief  References. — Calderwood,'  Uitt.  of  the  Kirk  ;  Knox,  HUt. 
of  the  Reformation,  and  Works  (cd.  Laing)  ;  Hethcrington,  IIM.  of 
the  Church  of  Scotland  ;  M'Cric,  Life  of  Knox  and  Life  of  ilelville  ; 
Cunningham,  Histcrrical  Theology ;  Rudloff,  Geschichle  der  Ref.  in 
SchotUand  ;  Neal,  Hist,  of  the  Puritans  ;  SI  Giles'  Lectures  {lat  scr.) ; 
Records  of  the  First  Pan- Presbyterian  Council  (Edinburgli,  1877)  ; 
James  Melville,  Diary;  Burton,  Hist,  of  Scotland;  Laing,  Hist,  of 
Scotland ;  Wodrow,  Church  History  and  Miscellanies ;  Baillic,  Letters 
and  Journals;  Records  of  Presbyteries  of  St  Andrews  and  Cupar; 
Buckle,  History ;  Burnet,  Hist.  Reform  ;  Robertson,  Hist,  of  Scotland ; 
Spottiswoode,  Hist,  of  Church  of  Scotland ;  Kirkton,  HisL  of  the 
Church;  Stevenson,  Hist,  of  the  Church  ;  Lamont,  Diary;  Gardiner, 
History  of  England,  ch.  2 ;  Laudt'dale  Papers  (Camden  Society). 


VI.,  for  instance,  Bucer,  with  Cranmer's  goodwill,  laid 
before  the  king  a  sketch  of  church  discipline  and  reform 
of  episcopal  government.  Each  bishop  waa  to  have  a 
council  of  presbyters,  and  provincial  synods  with  a  royal 
commissioner  were  to  meet  twice  a  year.  Many  English 
joined  Lasky'a  foreign  church,  and  when  it  was  dispersed 
under  Mary  settled  chiefly  in  Frankfort,  where  the  dispute 
took  place  in  which  the  adherents  of  the  Prayer  Book  de- 
feated Knox  and  his  followers.  These  came  to  England 
filled  with  Calvinistic  views  regarding  church  and  state, 
only  to  find  the  royal  supremacy  absolute,  and  uniformity 
enforced  under  crushing  penalties.  Even'the  foreign  Pro- 
testants were  compelled  to  choose  the  bishop  of  the  diocese 
as  their  superintendent.  The  contest,  which  began  after  a 
scheme  of  reform  had  been  lost  in  convocation  by  one  vote 
in  1562,  was  ostensibly  concerning  vestments  and  cere- 
monies ;  really  it  rested  on  a  far  wider  basis,  one  which 
found  place  even  in  Cambridge  disputations,  viz.,  "  whether 
the  civil  magistrate  has  authority  in  ecclesiastical  affairs." 
That  the  Puritans  ^  did  not  look  for  a  speedy  setting  up  of 
"  discipline  "  may  be  seen  in  Cox's  letter  to  Gualter,  "  We 
have  some  discipline  among  us  with  relation  to  men's  lives, 
such  as  it  is ;  but  if  any  man  would  go  about  to  persuade 
our  nobility  to  submit  their  necks  to  that  yoke,  he  may  as 
well  venture  to  pull  the  hair  put  of  a  lion's  beard."     In 

1566  took  place  the  first  separation  of  several  deprived 
London  ministers,  who  determined  in  future  to  use  the 
Geneva  service  book,  which  they  did  until  they  were  ar- 
rested in  Plumbers'  Hall  on  19th  June  1567.     During 

1567  and  1568  the  persecutions  in  France  and  Holland 
drove  thousands  of  Protestants,  chiefly  Presbyterians,  to 
England.  In  1570  the  leading  Presbyterian  views  found 
an  exponent  in  Thomas  Cartwright  at  Cambridge  (the 
headquarters  of  advanced  Puritanism) ;  and  the  temper  of 
parliament  is  shown  by  the  Act  of  1571  for  the  reformation 
of  disorder  in  the  church,  in  which,  while  all  mention  of 
discipline  is  omitted,  the  doctrinal  Articles  alone  being 
sanctioned,  ordination  by  presbyters  without  a  bishop  is 
implicitly  recognized.  It  is  to  be  observed  that  Cartwright 
and  the  leading  Puritan  theologians  opposed  the  idea  of 
separation.  The  voluntary  association  of  bishop,  ministers, 
and  laity  at  Northampton  is  interesting  as  showing  how 
earnest  men  were  thinking.  Their  discipline  was  strict  and 
their  tone  with  regard  to  the  state  and  to  the  existing  con- 
stitution of  the  church  was  too  bold  to  allow  of  indulgence. 
In  spite,  however,  of  constant  deprivation,  especially  in 
the  midland  and  eastern  counties,  the  obnoxious  doctrines 
spread;  aud  in  1572  the  first  formal  manifesto  was  put 
forth  in  the  Admonition  to  Parliament  of  Field  and  Wilcox, 
with  the  assent  of  others.  Equality  of  ministers,  choosing 
of  elders  and  deacons,  election  of  ministers  by  the  congrega- 
tion, objection  to  prescribed  prayer  and  antiphonal  chant- 
ing, the  view  that  preaching  is  a  minister's  chief  duty 
and  that  the  magistrate  should  root  out  superstition  and 
idolatry,  are  leading  points.  The  controversy  which 
followed  between  Whitgift  and  Cartwright  showed  how 
impossible  agreement  was  when  the  one  side  argued  that 
the  Holy  Scriptures  were  the  only  standard  as  well  for 
church  government  as  of  faith,  and  the  other  that  a  system 
of  church  government  was  nowhere  laid  down  in  Scripture, 
and  might  be  settled  by  and  accommodated  to  the  civil 
government  under  which  men  happen  to  be  living.  On 
20th  November  1572  the  authors  of  the  Admonition  set 
up  at  AVandsworth  what  has  been  called  the  first  presby- 
tery in  England.     They  chose  eleven  elders  and  put  out 

'  We  use  this  word  in  its  widest  sense  to  include  all  who  desired 
purity  in  church  government  and  doctrine.  They  consisted  at  first  ol 
the  returned  exiles  of  the  Marian  persecution,  and  separated  under 
the  stress  of  Elizabeth's  action  into  Independents  and  Presbyterians, 
the  latter  remaining  inside  the  church. 


686 


PRESBYTERIANISM 


[ENGLAND, 


a  purely  Presbyterian  system,  the  Orders  of  Wandsivorth. 
Similar  associations  were  erected  in  London  and  in  the 
midland  and  eastern  counties.  When,  however,  an  attempt 
was  made  to  join  the  foreign  churches  in  London,  the 
privy  council  forbade  it.  Jersey  anu  Giiernsey,  whither 
large  numbers  of  Huguenots  had  fled  after  the  massacre 
of  St.  Bartholomew's,  alone  were  Presbyterian  by  per- 
mission. Cartwright  and  Snape  were  pastors  there,  and 
from  1576  to  1625  a  completely  appointed  Presbyterian 
church  existed,  confirmed  by  synods  (held  at  Guernsey  and 
Jersey  on  28th  June  1576  and  17th  October  1577)  and 
authorized  by  the  governor.  Meantime  Cartwright  and 
Travers  had  drawn  up  a  scheme,  never  realized,  by  which 
ministers  were  bound  to  refuse  ordination  by  a  bishop 
unless  thjy  had  previously  been  "called"  by  a  congre- 
gation and  approved  by  a  church  classis.  Ceremonies 
in  dispute  might  be  omitted ;  should  this  cause  danger 
of  deprivation  the  classis  was  to  decide.  The  doctrinal 
Articles  might  be  subscribed,  but  not  the  Prayer  Book. 
Churchwardens  might  easily  be  converted  into  elders  and 
deacons ;  and  classical,  comitial,  and  provincial  assemblies 
were  to  be  held. 

The  suppression  of  independent  life  in  the  church  at 
length  drove  numbers  out,  known  in  the  future  as  Brownists 
or  Independents  {q.v.).  Those  who  remained  still  strove 
for  reform.  They  were  met  by  a  new  court  of  high  com- 
mission and  the  "ex  oiEcio"oath, — an  increase  of  severity 
strongly  opposed  by  Burghley  and  the  privy  council. 
These  views  are  expressed  in  Travers's  Disciptina  Ecdesix 
ex  verba  Dei  descripta,  printed  at  Geneva  in  1574,  trans- 
lated with  additions  by  Cartwright  in  1584,  then  sup- 
pressed and  not  again  published  until  1644,  when  it  was 
officially  recognized  as  the  Director!/  of  Government.^  'Its 
Presby-  leading  principles  were  those  of  French  Protestantism, 
lerianism  j^  ^^,g^g  signed  by  some  500  ministers,  Cartwright  among 
Eneland  them.  The  action  of  the  Commons  in  1584,  stimulated 
by  the  opposition  of  the  Lords,  shows  that  the  principles 
of  Presbyterianism  were  very  strong  in  the  country.  Bills 
were  introduced  to  limit  the  stringency  of  subscription, 
and  to  confine  the  penalties  of  suspension  and  deprivation 
to  cases  of  heresy  or  scandalous  life,  to  reduce  the  posi- 
tion of  a  bishop  wellnigh  to  that  of  merely  jxrimus  inter 
pares,  for  placing  the  power  of  veto  in  the  congregation, 
for  abolishing  the  canon  law  and  aU  spiritual  courts, 
and  for  establishing  a  presbytery  in  every  parish.  All 
these  proposals  were,  however,  cut  short  by  the  unflinch- 
ing exercise  of  the  queen's  prerogative  ;  and,  with  some 
slackening  during  the  great  year  of  peril,  the  Puritans 
suffered  extreme  persecution.  In  1588  they  held  a  pro- 
vincial synod  at  Warwick,  and  also  again  at  Michaelmas. 
It  is  noticeable,  as  showing  the  growth  side  by  side  with 
Presbyterianism  of  the  spirit  directly  its  oppo'site,  that  on 
12th  January  1588  Bancroft  for  the  first  time  maintained 
i\\&  jus  .divinnm  of  Episcopacy. 

There  seems  no  doubt  that  during  the  later  years  of 
Elizabeth  Presbyterianism  declined.  The  position  of  the 
conforming  Puritan  was  in  every  way  a  weak  one.  He  had 
sworn  to  the  queen's  ecclesiastical  supremacy,  and  this 
supremacy  was  what  he  most  hated ;  he  was  compelled  to 
have  recourse  to  the  figment  that,  although  she  had  this 
supremacy,  she  could  not  exercise  it  ecclesiastically,  but 
could  merely  give  her  sanction  to  whatever  was  enacted 
by  the  church.  On  the  other  hand,  in  appearing -to  attack 
the  church  he  appeared  to  attack  the  nationality  of  the 
country  when  the  national  spirit  was  most  intense.  The 
nation  was  rapidly  becoming  conscious  of  a  vivid  and 
energetic  national  life,  and  whatever  impaired  the  national 
unity  was  regarded  with  impatience  and  resentment  at  a 

'  M'Crie,  Aiinals  of  Presbyteri/,  says  that  the  Orders  of  Wands- 
toorth  were  the  Director)/. 


time  when  the  political  condition  of  Europe  was  fra-ught 
with    such    danger    to    England    herself.       The    Scottish 
Presbyterian  had  triumphed  over  a  hated  and  alien  church, 
and  the  bishops  whom  he  overthrew  were  evil-living  and 
oppressive  men ;  the  English  Presbyterian  knew  that  his 
church  was  the  symbol  of  freedom  and  that  her  bishops 
had  been  holy  men  martyred  for  the  sake  of  that  freedom. 
Finally,  in  England  there  had  existed  among  the  common 
people,  as  there  had  not  in  Scotland,  an  absence  of  inter- 
ference and  an  independence  of  private  life  which  would 
naturally  form  the  strongest  obstacle  to  the  introduction 
of  the  longed-for  Presbyterian  discipline.     The  diff'erence 
between  English  and  Scottish  Presbyterianism  was  clear 
to  James  when   in  the  millenary  petition  the  reforming 
clergy  disclaimed  all  idea  of  afi"ecting  parity  in  the  church 
or  of  attacking  the  royal  supremacy,  and  merely  requested 
the  redress  of   certain   abuses    in  rites  and   ceremonies. 
Even  %vith  regard  to  the  "ex  officio  "  oath  they  asked  only 
that  it  might  be  more  sparingly  used.     The  Puritans  had 
evidently  lost  faith  in  themselves  and  had  been  unable  to 
spread  their  views.     "Elizabeth  had  drained  the  life  out 
of  Puritanism  by  destroying  the  Armada  and  by  her  subse- 
quent policy  in  taking  the  leadership  of  the  Protestant 
interest  in  Europe."     It  needed  the  abuses  of  the  reigr* 
of  James  I.  to  restore  it.     The  king  was  still  further  en 
couraged  by  the  servile  support  of  the  universities,  which 
had  quite  lost  their  Puritan  tone.     At  the  Hampton  Court 
C«nference  in  January  1604,  Dr  Reynolds  as  spokesman 
of  the  Puritans  desired  permission  for  clerical  assemblies 
every  thiee  weeks,  "  prophesyings  "  in  rural  deaneries,  and 
that  appea,ls  might   lie  from  the  archdeacon's  invitation 
to  the  diocesan  sjmod,   composed  of  the  bishop  and  his 
presbyters.     The  coarse   and  menacing  rejection  of   these 
demands  made  clear  the  weakness  of  the  reforming  party 
within    the    church   as    opposed    to    the    cordial    alliance 
between  the  High  Church  and  'the  crown.     The  breach 
was  wider  than  at  any  time  under  Elizabeth.     The  struggle 
was    becoming    political.     Divine    right   of    Episcopacy, 
Arminianism,  and  prerogative  in  the  crown  were  becoming 
ranged   against   Presbyterianism   in    church   government, 
Calvinism  in  creed,  and  moderate  republicanism  in  politics. 
In  1604  James  put  out  the  Book  of  Canons,  .by  which 
every  clergyman  was  forced  to  subscribe,  "  willingly  and  ex 
animo,"  (1)  the  spiritual  and  ecclesfastical  supremacy  of  the 
crown,  (2)  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  (3)  the  Thirty- 
nine  Articles  of  1562,  as  being  all  and  every  one  of  them 
agreeable  to  the  word  of  God.      The  Book  was   pa.ssed 
under  the  great  seal,  but  was  never  ratified  by  parliament. 
As  the  result.a  large  number  of  ministers, variously  reckoned 
at  from   45    to    300,   were  deprived    of   their   benefices. 
Henceforward  the  persecution  was  steady  and  grievous,  and 
an  exodus  took  place  to  Holland,  where  the  exiles  erected 
Presbyterian  churches  which  in   their  turn  reacted  con- 
tinually upon  opinion  in  England.     By  far  the  larger  part 
of  the  Puritans,  however,  clung  to  the  church.     As  late  as 
1607  they  eagerly  expressed  their  desire  "  above  all  earthly 
things  "  to  continue  their  ministry  "  as  that  without  which 
our  whole   life  would   be   wearisome  and   bitter  to  us." 
And  in   1605,  in  answer  to   the  attacks  from   both   the 
extreme  parties,  William  Brad.shaw  published  his  English 
Puritanism.     The  system  herein   developed,  so  far  from 
being  Presbyterian,  is  Congregationalism  under  .state  coh- 
trol.     While  each   congregation    is    to    be  entirely  inde- 
pendent of  all  other  ecclesiastical  courts,  the  election  of 
its  officers  and  other  important  matters  are  ostentatiously 
given  to  the  civil  magistrate.     Not  the  slightest  intrusion 
by  ecclesiastical  officers  upon  civil  authority  may  be  allowed ; 
and  all  church  preferment  is  absolutely  in  the  hands  of  the 
crown,  which  is  supreme  over  the  constitution  and  pro- 
ceedings of  synods,  and  whose  commands   may   not    be 


fNGLAND.] 


P     I 


tE«BYTERIANIS 


M 


687 


actively  resisted.  The  king  himself,  is  subject  to  his  own 
particular  church  alone,  and  even  though  apostate  or  an 
evil  liver  he  retains  his  full  supremacy.  It  is  clear  that 
the  denial,  in  the  Scottish  sense,  of  the  state  supremacy  is 
Dot  expressed  by  the  English  Puritan  :  that  which  galled 
him  was  the  jurisdiction  of  other  ecclesiastics. 

From  the  synod  of  Dort  in  1 G 1 8  Arniinianism  gained 
ground  in  England  in  spite  of  tho  fact  that  Abbot,  the- 
primate,  -.vas  head  of  the  "doctrinal"  (or  old  Calvinist) 
Puritans.  As  soon  asLaud  came  into  power  the  Govern- 
ment attacked  Presbyterianism  wherever  it  was  found. 
Guernsey  was  compelled  to  accept  Episcopacy,  as  Jersey 
had  been  in  1605,  and  the  ten  foreign  congregations  in 
England  were  placed  under  the  control  of  the  English 
Chiu'ch.  The  English  congregation";  in  Hamburg  and  the 
Netherlands  were  also  ordered  to  relinquish  their  synods. 
The  system  of  the  church  was  aristocratic  exclusivenes3._ 

One  effect  of  the  Scottish  outburst  in  1638  and  of  the 
events  which  followed  was  of  course  largely  to  strengthen 
in  especial  the  Presbyterian  interest.  The  action  of  the 
church  tended  constantly  to  cut  off  waverers.  Baxter,  for  in- 
stance, was  led  to  examine  and  finally  to  throw  off  Episcopacy 
by  the  "et  cetera"  oath  in  1640.  Nevertheless  at  the 
opening  of  the  Civil  Wars,"  if  he  is  to  be  believed,  Noncon- 
formity, and  in  especial  Presbyterianism,  was  very  weak. 
"Where  I  was  bred  before  1640,  which  was  in  divers 
places,  I  knew  not  one  Presbyterian  clergyman  or  layman. 
,  .  .  About  as  many  Nonconformists  as  counties  were  left, 
and  those  few  stuck  most  at  subscription  and  ceremonies, 
and  but  few  of  them  studied  or  understood  the  Presby- 
terian or  Independent  disciplinary  causes."  Those  who 
sat  ia  the  Westminster  Assembly  were  almost  ail  such  as 
had  conformed. 

In  1640  Henderson,  Baillie,  Blair,  and  Gillespie  came 
frith  the  Scottish  commission  to  London,  the  ministers 
there  having  written  to  the  general  assembly  expressing 
their  desitJ  for  the  establishment  of  tho  Scottish  system. 
They  at  once  set  themselves  to  turn  the  current  of  Puritan- 
ism into  the  Presbyterian  channel,  and  to  bring  about  a 
union  on  the  Presbyterian  basis.  Their  preaching  attracted 
large  crowds,  and,  by  a  common  mistake,  they  judged  of 
dl  England  from  tho  London  ministry,  which  was  largely 
Presbyterian  and  which  in  December  1641  h^d  petitioned 
for  a  synod  (a  desire  expressed  also  in  the  Grand  Kemon- 
Birance)  to  include  ministers  from  foreign  parts.  The 
parties,  however,  which  were  to  join  issue  at  the  assembly 
were  already  clearly  recognizing  one  another,  for  we  hear 
that  "  the  separatists  are  like  to  be  of  some  help  to  hold 
Up  the  bishops  through  their  impertinence."  For  the  views 
of  moderate  men  on  church  reform  the  speeches  of  Sir  E. 
Deering  are  important.  It  is  clear  that  had  the  bishops 
been  willing  to  become  the  allies  of  a  reforming  parliament 
Presbyterianism  would  not  have  been  seriously  discussed. 

In  September  1642  the  Long  Parliament  abolished 
Episcopacy,  tho  abolition  to  date  from  the  5th  November 
1643 ;  the  question  what  form  of  Puritanism  should  succeed 
it  was  that  for  which  the  Westminster  Assembly  was  sum- 
moned by  parliament  on  12th  June  1643.  The  interven- 
ing months  were  marked  by  a  great  increase  of  sects,  of 
whom  all  were  by  nature  opposed  to  the  iron  domination 
of  Presbyterianism,  which  in  its  turn  found  support  in  tho 
English  ministers  of  Dutch  congregations.  It  is  important 
at  the  outset  to  notice  that  the  assembly  was  born  in 
Erastianism,  the  spirit  which,  from  tho  whole  co'-.i^e  of 
English  history  for  several  centuries,  may  be  regarded  as 
national.  .  It  was  a  micro  council  of  advice  to  the  parlia- 
ment of  England,  a  creature  of  the  parliament  alone. 
Its  members,  two  from  each  county,  though  some  counties 
bad  but  one,  were  chosen  by  parliament,  and  "nearer 
Agreement  with  tho  Cbwoh  of  Scotland"  is  one  of  the 


chief  points  in  the  ordinance.  In  1643  also  the  Long 
Parliament,  needing  Scottish  support,  and  willing  to  bid 
high,  formed  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant-  In  this 
the  English,  struggling  for  civil  liberty,  cared  only  for 
a  political  league ;  moreover,  "  they  were,"  says  Baillie, 
"more  nor  wo  could  consent  to,  for  keeping  of  a  doore 
open  in  England  to  Independencie.  Against  this  we  were 
peremptorie."  To  the  Scots  "itsehief  aim  was  the  pro- 
pagation of  our  church  discipline  to  England  and  Ireland.' 
The  title  was  a  compromise,  utterly  distasteful  to  the  Scots, 
who  refused  to  caU  it  anything  but  the  "  Covenant." 

The  number  summoned  to  the  assembly  was  151,  10 
being  lords,  20  members  of  the  House  of  Commons,  121 
ministers.  About  one-half  attended  regularly.  Besides 
the  Episcopalian  clergy,  who  did  not  attend,  there  were 
four  parties — (1)  moderate  Reformers  of  Presbyterian  tem- 
per, (2)  Presbyterians  of  Scottish  views,  (3)  Erastians, 
and  (4)  Independents.  At  the  request  of  the  parliament 
six  Scottish  commissioners,  without  a  vote,  of  whom  five 
(the  sixth  was  Maitland,  afterwards  the  celebrated  duke 
of  Lauderdale)  were  informed  with  the  intensest  spirit  of 
Scottish  Presbyterianism,  attended  the  assembly.  To  them 
their  mission  was  a  holy  one,  being  no  less  than  "  to  estab- 
lish a  new  platform  of  worship  and  discipline  for  this  people 
for  all  time  to  come."  That  this  was  to  be  Presbyterian 
was  the  one  thought  that  possessed  their  minds, — at  first 
with  eager  hope,  changing  to  apprehension  and  then  to 
disappointment  so  bitter  that  it  broke  the  heart  of  Alex- 
ander Henderson  and  made  Baillie  bewail  the  distance  of 
the  Scotch  army.  They  struggled  with  pathetic  earnestness 
against  influences  whose  strength  they  had  not  realized, — 
the  hated  sentiment  of  Erastianism  and  tho  still  more  hated 
sentiment  of  Independency.  The  first  of  these  was  chiefly 
in  the  background  in  parliament,  where  it  did  not  express 
itself  fully  until  late  in  the  proceedings ;  within  the  assem- 
bly it  was  consummately  represented  by  Lightfoot,  Cole- 
man, and  Selden,  who  held  that  "parliament  is  the  church." 
The  Independents,  numbering  only  ten  or  eleven  in  all, 
their  principal  representative  being  Nye,  were  also  men  of 
great  ability  and  clear  views,  who  knew  that  they  could 
depend  on  the  support  of  the  party  led  by  Cromwell. 

The  assembly  began  in  September  by  considering  what 
to  substitute  for  the  Thirty-nine  .Ajrticles.  On  1 2th  October, 
however,  in  deference  to  Scottish  pressure,  the  parliament 
instructed  them  to  take  up  at  once  the  questions  of  church 
government  and  a  liturgy.  Church  officers  were  first  dis- 
cussed. The  Independents  disjjuted  every  inch  of  ground  : 
"  to  the  uttermost  of  their  power  they  have  studied  pro- 
crastination of  all  things,  finding  that  by  tjine  they  have 
gained."  Tho  long  discussion  which  they  forced  on  the 
question  of  the  identity  of  pastor  and  doctor  (in  which, 
holding  the  offices  to  be  distinct,  and  that  every  congrega- 
tion ought  to  have  both,  they  were  opposed  both  by  the 
Scots  on  the  latter  and  by  tho  Anglicans  on  the  former 
ground)  was  but  one  example  of  their  skill  in  obstriiction. 
The  grand  battle,  however,  began  on  2  2d  November  over 
the  ruling  eldership — the  essence  of  tho  "Scots'  disci- 
pline,"— againtt  which  Independents  and  Erastians  alike 
did  their  best  .Ml  were  willing  to  admit  elders  "  in  a 
prudential  way,''  i.e.,  as  expedient,  but  "sundry  of  the 
ablest  were  flat  against  the  institution  of  any  such  offices 
by  divine  right,"  and  the  Independents  kept  them  "  in  a 
pitiful  labyrinth  these  twelve  days."  In  tliO  end  a  com- 
prcmise  was  effected,  grievous  to  the  Scots,  by  which  it 
was  merely  declared  "  agreeable  to,  and  warranted  by,  the 
word  of  God,  that  some  others  besides  the  ministers  of 
the  word  should  join  in  the  government  of  tho  church." 
An  attempt  further  to  define  their  office  failed.  By  the 
end  of  the  year  the  Scots  became  anxious :  "  as  yet  a 
presbyterie  to  this  people  is  conceaved  to  bo  a  strange 


688 


P«RESBYTERIANISM 


[ENGLAND. 


monster."  In  a  minor  point  they  had  experienced  a  rebuff. 
They  had  done,  as  true  Presbyterians,  all  they  could  to 
induce  the  assembly  to  sit  on  Christmas  Day,  church  fes- 
tivals being  to  them  an  abomination ;  but  they  only  pre- 
vailed so  far  "  that  both  houses  [of  Parliament]  did  profane 
that  holy  day,  by  sitting  on  it,  to  our  joy  and  some  of  the 
assembly's  shame."  The  observance  of  saints'  days  and 
holidays  was  not  abolished  until  8th  June  1647. 

On  9th  January  1644  the  pressing  question  of  ordina- 
tion was  brought  forvpard.  The  Committee  reported  that 
preaching  presbyters  should  alone  ordain.  'To  this  the 
Independents  of  course  objected  and  kept  the  assembly  in 
debate  untU  21st  January.  The  House  of  Lords  pressing 
for  a  settlement,  it  was  next  day  proposed  that  "  certain 
ministers  of  the  city  be  desired  to  ordain  ministers  in  the 
city  and  vicinity  jure  fratemitatis."  On  this  and  on  the 
essential  question,  how  far  the  consent  of  the  congregation 
should  be  necessary,  the  Independents  kept  up  the  struggle 
until  19th  April,  when  the  latter  point  was  determined  in 
the  non-intrusionist  sense.  The  bitterness  of  the  Scots 
against  the  Independents  increased  daily  ;  they  were  fairly 
puzzled  at  the  want  of  enthusiasm  for  that  which  was  the 
breath  of  their  lives.  "  This  stupid  and  secure  people,  .  .  . 
this  fainting  and  weak-hearted  people,"  BaUUe  calls  them, 
and  adds,  "  the  humour  of  this  people  is  very  various,  and 
inclinable  to  singularities,  to  differ  from  all  the  world  and 
from  one  another,  and  shortly  from  themselves."  No 
people,  he  says,  had  so  much  need  of  a  presbytery.  The 
hatred  was  fully  returned.  An  intrigue  *  was  set  on  foot 
for  a  union  between  the  Independents  and  the  moderate 
royalists  to  keep  out  Scots  and  Presbyterianism  on  the 
basis  of  the  restoration  of  Charles.  So  anxious  did  this 
render  the  Presbyterians  that  they  offered  to  make  a  com- 
promise whereby  to  strengthen  their  cause  in  parliament ; 
and,  probably  at  the  suggestion  of  their  chiefs  there,  the 
five  leading  Independents  published  (February  1644)  their 
Apologetical  Narrative,  which  traversed  their  whole  contro- 
versy with  the  Presbyterians  and  was  addressed,  not  to 
the  assembly,  but  to  the  parliament.  This  manifesto,  as 
well  as  the  Antapologia  and  other  answers  from  the  Pres- 
byterians, is  weU  analysed  by  Hetherington.  From  the 
moment  of  this  publication  there  was  no  longer  any  object 
in  dela3dng  the  main  battle.  "The  Independents  are 
resolute  to  give  in  their  reasons  to  parliament  against  us, 
and  that  shall  be  the  beginning  of  an  open  schism  :  lykelie 
we  shall  be  forced  to  deal  with  them  as  open  enemies." 
On  6th  February  it  was  proposed  that  "  the  Scripture 
holdeth  forth  that  many  particular  congregations  may  be 
under  one  Presbyterian  government."  After  six  weeks' 
incessant  debate,  in  which  both  Erastians  and  Independents 
used  their  utmost  abUity,  and  in  which  Nye  ostentatiously 
and  successfully  appealed  to  the  jealousy  of  the  imperium 
in  imperio,  they  ware  forced  to  yield.  In  this  discussion 
the  English  Presbyterians  were  less  disposed  to  compromise 
than  the  Scottish,  who  were  keenly  anxious  for  the  success 
of  their  mission.  The  ruling  eldership  was  then  voted, 
and  "on  Fryday,  after  a  week's  debate,  we  carried,  albeit 
hardlie  (27  to  19),  that  no  single  congregation  has  the 
power  of  ordination."  On  31st  May  BaiUie  adds,  "  our 
church  sessions,  to  which  the  Independents  gave  all,  and 
their  opposite  nothing  at  all,  we  have-gotten  settled  with 
unanimity  in  the  Scots'  fashion."  The  Presb3rterians  were, 
however,  by  no  means  easy  ;  they  felt  their  triumph  to  be 
yet  but  a  barren  one.  "The  chief  point  we  wish  were 
proven  is  the  real  authority,  power,  and  jurisdiction  of 
synods  and  classical  presbyteries  over  any  the  members  of 
the  whole  of  a  particular  congregation ;  also  I  wish  that 
the  power  of  presbyteries  classical  to  ordaine  and  excom- 

'  For  the  first  time  investigated  and  brought  to  light  by  Professor  S. 
R.  Gardiner  {Camden  Miscdlany,  1883). 


municate  were  cleared.  Many  beside  the  Independent* 
are  brought  to  give  the  rights  of  both  these  actions  to  the 
congregational  presbyteries,  much  against  our  mind  and 
practice."  The  great  question,  the  power  of  parliament  in 
ecclesiastical  affairs,  was  yet  unsettled ;  and  here  they 
looked  anxiously  at  "Selden  and  others,  who  will  have 
BO  discipline  at  aU  in  any  church  jure  divino,  but  settled 
only  on  the  free  will  and  pleasure  of  the  Parliament," 
and  they  had  forebodings  that  "Erastus'  way  will  triumph." 
Their  fears  were  soon  realized.  On  15th  November  1644 
the  assembly  reported  to  parliament  all  that  had  been  done,' 
and  the  House  at  once  debated  the  Jjts  divinum  question. 
Glynn  and  Whitelocke  spoke  vehemently  and  at  great, 
length,  and  then  upon  the  question  it  was  carried  to  lay' 
aside  the  point  of  JTis  divinura,  and  the  House  gave  them 
thanks  for  preventing  a  surprise.  It  was  resolved,  how- 
ever, that  the  Presbyterian  government  should  be  estab- 
lished, and  that  if  upon  trial  it  was  not  found  acceptabla 
it  should  be  reversed  or  amended. 

Cromwell,  who  had  shortly  before  "expressed  liimself 
with  contempt  of  the  assembly  of  divines,"  terming  them 
"persecutors"  and  saying  that  "they  persecuted  honester 
men  than  themselves,"  and  who  had  told  Manchester  that 
"in  the  way  they  [Scots]  now  carried  themselves  he 
could  as  soone  draw  his  sword  against  them  as  against 
any  in  the  king's  army,"  came  to  the  rescue  of  the  Inde- 
pendents in  the  assembly  by  procuring  on  13th  September 
an  order  from  the  parliament  to  refer  to  a  committee  of 
both  kingdoms  the  accommodation  or  toleration  of  the 
Independents.  This  committee,  lasting  until  15th  October, 
was  no  doubt  intended  to  gain  time,  for  time  was  against 
the  Scots,  and  it  did  nothing  else.  The  Independents  then, 
with  written  reasons  against  the  propositions  respecting 
church  government,  with  objections  on  the  question  of 
excommunication,  with  their  "model"  and  their  remon- 
strances, managed  to  protract  discussion  until  March  1646, 
and  in  the  end  to  leave  matters  unsettled  and  without 
prospect  of  settlement.  In  January  1645  the  abortive 
negotiations  at  Uxbridge  took  place,  at  which  each  party 
asserted  the  jus  divinum.  The  conditions  proposed  to  the 
king  had  been  drawn  up  by  Johnston  of  Warriston  and 
approved  by  the  Scottish  parliament ;  they  included  the 
acceptance  of  the  Covenant.  In  the  compromise  offered 
by  the  king  he  assented  to  the  limitation  of  the  bishops' 
power  by  a  council  of  the  lower  clergy,  and  even  by  lay- 
men to  be  elected  by  this  council,  in  each  diocese. 

In  April  (Self-Denying  Ordinance)  and  again  in  October 

1645  (the  battle  of  Naseby  having  been  fought  in  June) 
the  parliament  passed  a  vote  which  was  gall  and  worm- 
wood to  the  Scots,  foi  it  provided  a  power  of  appeal  from 
the  national  assembly  to  the  parliament.  It  also  insisted 
that  there  should  be  two  ruling  elders  for  each  minister  in 
a  church  meeting,  and  allowed  censures  to  be  passed  only 
in  cases  which  it  enumerated.  No  way  remained  to  stay 
the  mischief,  BaiUie  felt,  except  by  "hastening  up  our 
army,  well  recruited  and  disciplined."     On  20th  February 

1646  they  resolved  that  a  choice  of  elders  should  be  made 
throughout  the  kingdom  ;  but  on  14th  March  Baillie  him- 
self bewails  that  "  the  House  of  Commons  has  gone  ou  to 
vote  (by  a  majority  of  one)  a  committee  in  every  shiie  to 
cognosce  on  sundry  ecclesiastical  causes,  which  will  spoil  \ 
all  our  church  government."  The  fact  was  that,  the  king*  > 
being  now  very  weak,  Scottish  friendship  was  daily  grow- 
ing of  less  importance.  When  the  commissioners  from  the 
Scottish  parliament  urged  the  speedy  erecting  of  presby- 
teries, the  English  expressed  their  dread  of  "granting  an 

'  At  Newcastle  in  November  1646  the  king  offered  to  sanction  the 
Presbyterian  establishment,  with  all  its  forms  and  the  order  of  public 
worship  already  adopted,  for  a  period  of  three  years,  withoat  pr^jn 
dice  to  his  own  personal  liberty. 


XBGLANS.] 


PRESBYTERIAN  ISM 


689 


arbitrary  and  unlimited  power  to  near  10,000  judicatories 
within  this  kingdom,"  and  declared  that,  experience  having 
shown  that  the  parliament  had  preserved  the  Reformation 
and  purity  of  religion,  they  had  no  reason  "  to  part  with 
this  power  out  of  the  hand  of  the  civil  magistrate."  On 
30th  April  1646  the  House  proposed  queries  which  practi- 
cally challenged  the  jus  divinuvi  position  from  one  end  to 
the  other.  The  assembly  at  once  set  themselves  to  answer 
these  captious  questions  ;  but  of  questions  and  answers  the 
parliament  took  care  that  for  the  present  no  more  should 
be  heard.  Vnien,  however,  on  1st  December  1646  the 
London  ministers  published  their  manifesto  Jus  divinum 
regiminis  ecclesiastici,  the  House  of  Commons  called  for  the 
assembly's  answers,  which  do  not  appear  to  have  been 
forthcoming.  Throughout  the  contest  the  Scottish  com- 
missioners, especially  Baillie,  organized  the  opposition,  im- 
mortalized in  Milton's  sonnet,  of  the  London  ministers 
against  the  parliament's  action.  The  king,  however,  hav- 
ing fled  in  April  to  the  Scots,  parliament  thought  it  need- 
ful to  temporize.  On  5th  June,  therefore,  both  Houses 
ratified  .he  ordinance  establishing  presbyteries ;  on  the 
9th  they  ordered  it  at  once  to  be  put  into  execution ;  and — 
a  still  more  significant  step — they  rescinded  the  clause  for 
jjrovincial  committees  which  had  given  Baillie  such  vexa- 
tion. The  order,  however,  remained  a  dead  letter  until 
22d  April  1647.  Twelve  presbyteries  were  then  erected 
for  London ;  Lancashire  and  Shropshire  were  organized, 
and  Bolton  was  so  vigorous  in  the  cause  as  to  gain  the 
name  of  the  Geneva  of  Lancashire  ;  but  the  system  spread 
no  farther  in  the  ungenial  soil  and  air  of  England.  Even 
here  the  difference  between  Scottish  and  English  Presby- 
terianism  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  two-thirds  of  every 
cleissis  or  presbytery  were  necessarily  laymen.  The  first 
liieeting  of  the  London  synod  was  on  3d  May  1647,  and  it 
met  half-yearly  until  1655.  That  of  "Lancashire  met  at 
Preston  in  February.  1648.  After  all,  however,  it  appeared 
that  the  votes  of  the  Houses  were  permissive  only ;  for 
on  13th  October  1647  the  Lords  voted  to  ask  the  king  for 
liis  sanction  to  the  proviso  that  "  no  person  shall  be  liable 
to  any  question  or  penalty  only  for  Non-Conformity  to  the 
said  government  or  to  the  form  of  the  divine  services 
appointed  in  the  ordinances,"  while  such  as  would  not  con- 
form were  to  be  allowed  to  meet  for  religious  exercise  in 
a  fit  place  so  long  as  the  peace  was  not  disturbed.  ^  The 
language  of  the  Commons  was  almost  equally  indulgent, 
while  on  1st  November  the  "agitators"  declared  that 
"  matters  of  religion  and  the  ways  of  God's  worship  are 
not  at  all  entrusted  by  us  to  any  human  power."  Presby- 
terianism  was  wellnigh  as  far  from  being  established  at 
the  close  of  the  assembly  as  in  the  days  of  Elizabeth. 
English  Protestantism  had  been  a  protest,  not  against 
Roman  Catholicism,  but  against  papal  supremacy;  the 
country  was  as  little  disposed  to  accept  Presbyterian 
supremacy.  The  reader  will  gain  some  idea  of  the  parti- 
cular forms  of  tyranny  which  England  had  declined  in 
"The  Harmonious  Consent  of  the  ministers  of  the  pro- 
vince within  the  County  Palatine  of  Lancaster,  &c."  (Hal- 
ley,  Lancashire,  its  Nonconf.,  p.  467).  In  May  1648  the 
parliament,  now  that  army  pressure  was  removed,  passed 
the  celebrated  "ordinance  against  blasphemy  and  heresy." 
If  ordinances  could  have  fought  against  the  inherited 
instincts  of  centuries  Presbyterian  government  would  have 
run  riot.  On  29th  August  it  was  again  decreed  that  "all 
parishes  and  places  whatsoever  within  England  and  Wales 
shall  be  under  the  government  of  congregational,  classical, 

'  In  Decembelr  1647  Charles,  at  Carisbrooko,  again  agreed  with  the 
comniissionera  from  the  Scottish  Kirk  to  the  conditions  formerly  offered 
at  Newcastle,  in  consideration  of  their  promise  to  take  up  arms  for 
his  cause.  The  establishment  of  Prcsbyterianism,  the  extirpation  of 
•Wtaries.  and  covenant  uniformity  were  demanded  by  the  English. 

lU-25 


provincial  or  national  assemblies,"  except  royal  chapels  and 
peers'  houses.  In  October  1648  Charles  at  Newport  offered 
to  accept  Ussher's  scheme,-  and,  in  answer  to  an  address 
from  London,  consented  to  a  temporary  alienation  of 
church  property  for  the  maintenance  of  Presbyterian 
ministers.  In  Is^ovember,  however,  the  army  asserted  it- 
self ;  it  afterwards  purged  the  parliament  when  it  found 
that  there,  was  an  accommodation  between  Charles  and 
the  Presbyterians,  and  killed  the  king.  With  the  founda- 
tion •  of  the  Commonwealth  the  dream  of  Presbyterian 
supremacy  passed  away.  The  Presbyterians  are  hence- 
forth to  be  regarded  as  a  political  far  more  than  as  a 
religious  body.  They  now  formed  the  nucleus  of  that 
party  which  desired  the  restoration  of  monarchy  on  good 
conditions.  Opposing  the  toleration  granted  to  all  forms 
of  Protestantism  by  Cromwell,  they  became  his  most 
dangerous  opponents  by  their  sympathy  with  the  Scots 
and  their  refusal  to  take  the  "  engagement,"  as  is  illus- 
trated by  the  plot  for  which  Love  was  executed.  The 
parliament  meanwhile  secured  them  in  their  livings.  As 
Cromwell  said  to  the  Scots,  "  The  ministers  in  England 
are  supported  and  have  liberty  to  preach  the  Gospel, 
though  -not  to  rail  at  their  superiors  at  discretion,  nor 
under  a  pretended  privilege  of  character  to  overtop  the 
civil  powers."  In  the  Instrument  of  Government  (1653) 
Cromwell  expressly  retained  all  the  laws  in  their  favour 
and  appointed  some  of  them  on  the  list  of  triers.  They 
had  their  classical  presbyteries  for  ordination,  but  these, 
having  no  coercive  power,  gradually  became  merely  meet- 
ings of  ministers  of  all  denominationj.  The  position  of 
Baxter  and  his  followers  is  worthy  of  notice,  and  should 
be  read  in  his  owif  words  (Orme's  Baxter,  vol.  i.  p.  92). 
Nominally  a  Presbyterian,  he  disliked  the  lay  eldership ; 
he  disliked  their  intolerance ;  he  disliked  the  subordinate 
position  ascribed  to  the  civil  magistrate ;  in  his  own  terse 
language,  "Till  magistrates  keep  the  sword  themselves, 
and  learn  to  deny  it  to  every  angry  clergyman  who  would 
do  his  own  work  by  it,  .  .  .  the  church' will  never  have 
unity  and  peace."  On  the  question  of  the  independence 
of  congregations  he  was  an  Independent  in  sympathy  and 
practice.  His  absorbing  idea  was  union ;  with  Ussher,  he. 
says,  he  had  agreed  in  half  an  hour ;  among  rigidly  de^ 
fined  parties  it  is  not  possible  to  find  him  a  place ;  but 
in  the  light  of  that  idea  he  appears  perfectly  consistent, 
John  Owen  was  another  maa  who  illustrates  the  light 
a«d  shade  of  English  opinion.  He  opposed  the  London 
ministers,  though  he  held  a  Presbyterian  appointment. 
In  1644  he  upheld  Prcsbyterianism  against  Independency; 
in"  1646  he  became  formally  connected  with  the  Independj 
ents.  The  Presbyterian  was  above  all,  on  the  political 
side,  a  hater  of  the  army  and  a  parliamentarian,  and 
therefore,  especially  after  Richard  Cromwell's  resignation, 
a  monarchist.  Monarchy  and  parliaments  were  co-ordi- 
nated in  the  English  mind.  Baxter  preaching  before  the 
Commons  on  30th  April  1660  said,  "Whether  wo  sheuld| 
be  loyal  to  our  king  is  none  of  our  differences.  ...  For 
the  concord  now  wished  in  matters  of  religion  it  is  easy 
for  moderate  men  to  come  to  a  fair  agreement."  To  take 
advantage  of  this  feeling  Charles  II.  used  all  the  resources 
of  duplicity  ;  the  deputation  of  divines  was  easily  and 
entirely  tricked,  and  on  his  entry  into  London  the  Presby- 
terian ministers  received  him  with  acclamation.  Until 
the  actual  Restoration  the  ascendency  of  Presbyterianisin 

'  Ussher's  scheme  suggested  (a)  threo  synods,  namely,  one  of  the 
clergy  of  the  rural  deanery,  meeting  onca  a  month  ;  one  of  the  clerg. 
of  the  whole  dioce.se,  meeting  once  or  twice  r.  year  ;  'and  rcpri'SentatiTa* 
of  the  clergy  of  the  province,  meeting  onco  in  three  years,  the  vck- 
bishop  presiding ;  (6)  if  -parliament  were  sitting,  the  two  proN'iincijbt 
synods  were  to  unite,  and  the  whole  govcnimcnt  of  tlie  church  v«~«  to 
be  in  their  handjs.  There  was  no  repraMatoti"v  of  the  laity  fr.  th* 
scheiTA. 


690 


PRESBYTERIANISM 


[tire  LANS. 


subsequent  to  Monk's  entry  into  London,  had  seemed  com- 
plete. The  council  was  almost  exclusively  Presbyterian ; 
Presbyterians  commanded  the  garrison  towns  and  the  fleet, 
and  had  possession  of  the  universities.  The  last  acts  of 
the  Long  Parliament  had  been  to  establish  Presbyterianism 
as  the  religion  of  the  state.  It  was  therefore  necessary 
on  the  part  of  Charles  and  Clarendon  to  temporize.  Pro- 
mises were  made  from  Breda ;  hopes  of  comprehension 
and  preferment  were  placed  before  the  Presbyterian  minis- 
ters ;  conferences  were  arranged  between  them  and  the 
leading  Episcopal  clergy.  There  is  no  sign,  however,  that 
the  most  ardent  Presbyterian  hoped  for  more  than  Ussher's 
model.  They  were  sufficiently  bound  over  by  the  Cove- 
nant, the  oath  of  allegiance,  the  traditional  connexion  of 
parliament  and  monarchy,  and,  above  all,  by  their  jealousy 
of  the  Scots,  to  restore  the  king. 

The  solemn  farce  began.  Ten  ministers  were  made 
royal  chaplains,  and  Charles  II.  expressed  his  intention  of 
doing  his  best  to  heal  the  differences  in  religion.  He 
wished  to  know  their  desires.  They  asked  for  a  resident 
ministry,  Sunday  observance,  Ussher's  model,  the  revision 
of  the  Prayer  Book,  extemporary  prayer,  that  kneeling  at 
communion  and  the  observance  of  saints'  days  might  not  be 
enforced,  and  that  iewing  at  the  name  of  Jesus,  making 
the  sign  of  the  cross  in  baptism,  and  the  use  of  the  surplice 
might  be  abolished.  Baxter  also  suggested  that  the  suffragan 
bishop  should  be  elected  by  the  clergy  of  the  rural  deanery. 
The  bishops  replied  in  writing,  refusing  alj,  concession,  ex- 
cept, perhaps,  as  regarded  the  cross,  bowing,  and  the  surplice, 
and  taunting  their  opponents  with  "  scruple-mongering." 
Charles  now  put.  out  his  declaration,  which  included  a 
proviso  that  the  presbyters'  advice  and  assistance  should 
be  necessary  to  certain  episcopal  functions,  and  especially 
to  church  censures.  This,  and  the  Bill  to  turn  it  into  a 
law,  kept  the  Presbyterians  in  play ;  by  Clarendon's  influ- 
ence the  Bill  was  thrown  out  on  the  second  reading,  and 
the  convention  parliament  was  dissolved.  The  parliament 
which  followed  was  Episcopalian.  The  church  at  once 
struck  hard.  The  Corporation  Act,  20th  December  1661, 
destroyed  Presbyterian  influence  in  the  large  towns,  the 
centres  of  its  power;  the  Act  of  Uniformity,  19th  May 
1662,  compelling  "assent  and  (?onsent"  to  everything  in 
the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  destroyed  it  in  the.  church. 
Under  circumstances  of  open  deceit  and  flippant  cruelty 
2000  ministers  were,  on  St  Bartholomew's  Day,  deprived 
of  their  offices.  It  is  important  to  notice  that  the  Papists 
and  other  Dissenting  bodies  opposed  toleration  to  the 
Presbyterians  ;  they  felt  that  the  only  chance  of  a  general 
toleration  was  in  the  failure  of  the  Presbyterians  to  obtain 
comprehension. 

Between  these  two  Acts  the  Savoy  Conference  had  been 
held,  beginning  25th  March  1662 ;  it  met  apparently  to 
signalize  the  church's  triumph.  It  was  intended  to  fail, 
as  the  Hampton  Court  Conference  had  been  intended  to 
fail,  and  is  of  interest  merely  as  being  the  last  attempt 
at  union  by  conference. 

With  regard  to  toleration  Charles  II.  and  James  II.  were 
Bourbons,  and  they  wished  to  carry  out  the  policy  of  their 
ancestor,  Henry  IV.  of  France.  They  hoped  to  use  the  grati- 
tude and  dependence  of  the  sects  whereby  to  sustain  them 
against  the  church  Cromwell  had  done  the  same  ;  tolera- 
tion and  military  despotism  had  been  parallel  ideas. 
Charles  desired  that  the  church  should  not  tolerate,  but 
that  he  should.  Thus  he  hoped  to  have  a  despotism 
founded  upon  the  support  of  the  sects.  The  greater  part 
of  his  reign  presents  a  constant  struggle  of  the  church  and 
parliament  to  frustrate  his  views.  To  gain  the  power  of 
suspending  the  penal  laws  was  the  great  object  in  the  com- 
prehension scheme  of  26th  December  1662.  In  an  instant 
gh'irch  opposition  began  ;  the  primate  and  the  parliament 


spoke  with  equal  sternness,  and  the  suggestion  was  d;opped. 
As  had  happened  in  Scotland,  the  ejection  of  St  Bartholo- 
mew's Day  had  led  to  conventicles ;  the  first  Conventicle 
Act,  16th  May  1664,  was  an  expression  of  the  hatred  of  the 
Anglican  Church  to  Charles's  scheme. 

In  1665  the  plague  occurred;  the  pulpits  of  London 
were  deserted  by  the  Episcopal  clergy,  with  a  few  brilliant 
exceptions.  The  Presbyterians  and  Independents  came 
forward  to  fiU  them.  The  jealousy  of  the  church  was 
aroused,  and  at  its  demand,  and  in  return  for  a  supply  for 
the  Dutch  War,  Charles  passed  the  Five  Mile  Act._i  The 
extent  to  which  these  successive  ftcts  of  persecution  affected 
the  country  varied  greatly.  In  some  parts  the  justices 
refused  to  convict,  or  were  languid.  Thus  Seth  Ward,  in 
one  of  his  reports  to  Sheldon  from  Exeter  (in  1663),  says, 
"  Your  Grace  shall  know  that  there  are,  in  this  county  of 
Devon  onely,  ...  at  least  fourteen  Justices  of  the  peace 
who  are  accounted  arrant  Presbyterians."  The  bishop  of 
Chester  makes  the  same  complaint  in  1667.-  With  the 
fall  of  Clarendon  the  idea  of  toleration  at  once  revived. 
In  February  1667  Charles  recommended  it  to  parliament 
and  relaxed  the  penal  laws.  But  the  idea  had  taken 
possession  of  the  English  mind  that  what  Charles  wanted 
to  tolerate  was  Popery;  wherever  Charles  wrote  "dissent" 
the  English  mind  read  "pope  of  Rome."  Some  questions 
drawn  out  by  Sheldon  against  toleration  may  be  seen  in 
the  Sheldon  MSS.,  and  are  worth  reading.  It  was  this 
fear,  and  the  belief  that  the  integrity  of  the  Church  of 
England  was  the  great  safeguard  against  Popery,  that 
had  to  answer  for  much  of  the  persecution.  By  176 
votes  against  70  parlianjent  voted  against  comprehension, 
and  by  144  against  78  for  the  continuance  of  the  Con- 
venticle Act,  while  on  2d  March  1670  a  second  Conventicle 
Act  of  special  severity  was  forced  from  Charles. 

On  15th  March  1672  the  king  made  another  attempt 
by  his  famous  Declaration  of  Indulgence,  in  which  he 
boldly  claimed  the  suspensory  power.  This  caused  great 
searchings  of  heart  among  the  Dissenters,  for  they  must 
either  refuse  the  indulgence  or  uphold  an  unconstitutional 
proceeding.  Ought  they  to  accept  anything  short  of 
comprehension  1  Their  doubts  were  cut  short  by  the 
withdrawal  of  the  Indiilgence  only  three  months  after  its 
utterance,  and  the  Test  Act  signalized  the  victory  of  the 
church.  The  church  became  more  and  more  exclusive ; 
the  parliament,  drawing  its  life  from  the  people,  gradually 
changed  its  tone.  In  1663  the  Anglican  Church  wished 
to  triumph  over  Dissent ;  in  1673  Protestants  wished  only 
to  secure  themselves  against  Popery.  The  Commons  there- 
fore passed  a  Bill  for  the  ease  of  Dissenters,  which  was, 
however,  dropped  in  the  Lords. 

No  further  change  occurred  in  the  legal  status  of  the 
Presbytferians.  Their  party  continually  increased  in  in- 
fluence under  Shaftesbury's  guidance,  and  in  1680  the 
Commons  agreed  to  a  sqjieme  of  comprehension  for  all 
Dissenters  who  would  subscribe  the  doctrinal  Articles ; 
the  surplice  was  to  be  omitted  except  in  cathedrals  or 
royal  chapels ;  and  ceremonies  were  to  be  regarded  as  in- 
different. This  attempt  at  union  came  to  nothing,  how- 
ever, through  church  opposition,  as  did  a  final  attempt  at 
toleration  by  Charles  in  1684,  Throughout  his  reign  the 
church  had  held  him  in  a  never-relaxing  grasp.  The 
intervening  years  were  a  period  of  constant  annoyance 
to  the  Presbyterians,  who  were  discredited   by  the  Rye 

'  By  tliis  Act  all  who  refused  to  declnre  tlint-tliey  "ivould  not  at 
any  time  eudeavour  any  alteration  in  cliiircli  or  state"  were  made  in- 
capable of  teaching  in  schools,  and  proliiliited  from  comitig  within  5 
miles  of  any  city,  corporate  town,  or  parliamentary  liorongh,  or  within 
5  miles  of  any  parish,  town,  or  plaf  e,  where  they  had  since  the  Act  of 
Oblivion  been  parson,  vicar,  or  lecturer,  or  where  they  had  preaoli^i 
in  nny  conventicle,  on  any  pretence  whatever, 

'■■  Sheldon  MSS.,  Bodleian  Library, 


IRELAND. 


P  R  E  S  B  Y  T  E  11  J  A  JN  i  S  M 


691 


House  Plot.  Such  were  the  relations  of  the  Presbyterians 
to  the  .church.  Their  relations  to  the  Independents  were 
the  eld  ones  of  jealousy  and  hostility.  They  themselves 
always  looked  for  a  position  in  the  establishment ;  the 
principles  of  the  Independents  excluded  the  idea.  Attempts 
at  union  occurred,  but  they  were  useless. 

From  this  time  the  history  of  the  Presbyterians  is  lost 
in  that  of  Dissent  generally.  James  refused  to  enforce 
the  penal  laws ;  but  they  enforced  themselves,  and  Baxter 
was  one  of  the  first  to  suffer.  Monmouth's  attempt  only 
increased  their  sufferings.  In  1687  their  prospects  bright- 
ened. James  11.,  following  his  brother's  policy,  issued  his 
Declaration  for  Liberty  of  Conscience,  as  he  had  already 
done  in  Scotland  and  Ireland.  The  motive,  as  Hallam 
says,  was  that  already  mentioned,  "to  enlist  under  the 
standard  of  arbitrary  power  those  who  had  been  its  "most 
intrepid  and  steadiest  adversaries."  In  the  addresses  of 
thanks  sent  up  the  leading  Dissenters  (except  the  Quakers) 
refused  to  join ;  indeed,  at  a  general  meeting  of  ministers  a 
resolution  was  passed  directly  condemning  the  dispensing 
power.  The  action  of  James,  by  which  the  work  of  the  Cor- 
poration Act  was  in  a  great  measure  undone  and  the  power 
in  corporations  once  more  thrown  into  Dissenting  hands, 
was  equally  unsuccessful.  Throughout  his  reign  the  king 
failed  to  comprehend  that  the  Dissenters  were,  first  of  all, 
Protestants.  William  III.'s  declaration  from  Torbay  recom- 
mended comprehension,  and. in  March  1689  he  urged  it 
upon  parliament.  A  Bill  was  brought  into  the  Lords  for 
abrogating  the  oaths  of  allegiance  and  supremacy,  and  for 
abolishing  the  Test  Act  so  far  as  Dissent  was  concerned. 
The  High-Church  party,  however,  was  strong  enough  to 
secure  its  failure.  Another  Bill  with  the  same  intent,  as 
well  as  attempts  to  relieve  the  Dissenters  of  kneeUng  at 
the  sacrament  and  using  the  cross  in  baptism,  and  to  ex- 
plain away  "  assent  and  consent,"  as  required  by  the  Act 
of  Uniformity,  was  also  jealously  and  successfully  opposed. 
By  the  Act  of  Toleration,  however,  all  the  penal  laws,  ex- 
cept the  Corporation  and  Test  Acts  and  those  against  the 
deniers  of  the  Trinity,  were  removed.  But  it  did  not 
abrogate  the  statutes  of  Elizabeth  and  James  I.,  which 
exacted  certain  penalties  on  such  as  absented  themselves 
from  the  parish  church.  Heresy,  too,  was  still  subject  to 
the  church  courts.  A  last  attempt  was  made,  by  an  ecclesi- 
astical commission  of  thirty  divines,  to  frame  a  scheme  of 
comprehension.  It  was  vehemently  opposed  in  convoca- 
tion ;  the  High  Churchmen  withdrew  from  it ;  and  it  was 
never  submitted  to  parliament.  Thus  ended  the  last  of  the 
fruitless  attempts  to  comprehend  Dissent  within  the  estab- 
lishment. During  William's  reign  the  hatred  of  the  church 
to  the  Presbyterians  had  been  obliged  to  lie  dormant. 
Anne's  accession,  however,  led  at  once  to  an  attempt  on  the 
part  of  the  churchmen  to  revenge  themselves  by  the  intro- 
duction of  the  Occasional  Conformity  BUI /or  the  toleration 
which  they  had  been  compelled  to  practise.  This,  however, 
they  were  unable  to  carry  through  against  the  opposition, 
of  which  Burnet  was  the  foremost  champion. 

Having  secured  toleration,  the  Dissenters  began  to  think 
of  their  own  internal  condition.  A  coalition  of  I'rcsby- 
.tcrians  and  Independents  was  thought  desirable.  The 
mere  mention  of  such  a  thing  shows  how  profoundly  the 
complexion  of  affairs  had  changed.  Under  the  name  of 
"  United  Brethren  "  about  eighty  ministers  of  London 
mot  and  drew  up  heads  of  an  agreement,  in  nine  articles, 
on  church  government  and  ecclesiastical  discipline.  Article 
8  provided  that  the  union  should  not  discuss  doctrine,  and 
named  as  auxiliaries  to  Scripture  the  Articles,  the  Savoy 
Confession,  and  the  Westminster  Catechism.  Mutual  con- 
cessions were  now  made.  The  Independents  gave,  up  the 
necessity  of  the  consent  of  a  church  to  tlie  ordination  of 
a  minister,  and  only  made  if  i5(:3i.>-j\Ule  ;  upti  it"  oOlco  c^ 


doctor,  as'  distinct  from  pastor  and  ruling  elder,  was  passed 
over.  But  the  Presbyterians  gave  up  far  more,  viz.,  the 
authoritative  power  of  synods  over  individual  churches. 
In  other  words,  the  Presbyterians  gave  up  and  the  Inde- 
pendents retained  each  the  kernel  of  their  system.  Excom- 
munication was  emasculated.  The  prerogative  of  synods 
was  reduced  to  occasional  meetings  and  a  reverential  regard 
for  their  judgment.  But  this  arrangement  only  affected 
London  and  its  neighbourhood.  Moreover,  while  their 
views  of  church  government  were  so  profoundly  modified 
in  the  Independent  direction,  a  change  equally  noticeable 
took  place  in  their  doctrinal  views.  From  the  beginning  of 
the  18th  century  the  greater  number  of  their  congregations 
became  Unitarian,  while  those  which  remained  orthodox 
joined  themselves  to  the  Scottish  Church;  The  fact  that  at 
a  time  when  full  toleration  was  enjoyed  the  Presbyterian 
principle  ever  grew  weaker  shows  how  little  it  had  pene- 
trated into  the  English  mind.  During  the  present  century 
a  new  establishment  of  Presbyterian  congregations  has  tak^n 
place  upon  the  Scottish  models,  and  indeed  at  first  as  an 
offset  of  the  Scottish  Church  itself.  In  !May  1 836,  how- 
ever, the  synod  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  of  England  was 
established,  in  entire  independence  of,  though  in  friendly 
union  with,  the  Scottish  Church,  containing  at  the  present 
time  (1885)  10  presbyteries  with  280  congregations.' 

Ireland. — Presbyterianism  in  Ireland  dates  from  the 
plantation  of  Ulster,  by  which  a  large  part  of  Ireland 
ceased  to  be  Papist  and  was  peopled  afresh  by  Scotsmen 
and  Englishmen.  An  independent  Protestant  church  was 
settled  in  James  I.'s  reign,  and  at  the  convocation  of  1615 
the  first  confession  of  faith  was  drawn  up  by  James  Ussher, 
which  implicitly  admitted  the  validity  of  Presbyterian 
ordination  and  denied  the  distinction  between  bishop  and 
presbyter.  It  was  not,  however,  until  1626  that  the  begin- 
ning of  the  Presbyterian  system  was  laid  by  Hugh  Campbell, 
a  Scot,  who,  having  become  converted,  "  invited  some  of  his 
honest  neighbours  ...  to  meet  him  at  his  house  on  the  last 
Friday  of  the  month.  ...  At  last  they  grew  so  numerous, 
that  the  ministers  thought  fit  that  some  of  them  should  be 
still  with  them  to  prevent  what  hurt  might  follow."  Within 
the  Episcopal  Church,  and  supported  by  its  endowments, 
Blair,  Livingstone,  and  others  maintained  a  Scottish  Pres- 
byterian communion.  From  1625,  however,  to  1638  the 
history  of  Presbyterianisrn  in  Ireland  is 'one  of  bare  exist- 
ence, not  of  progress.  The  ministers,  silenced  by  Went- 
worth,  fled  finally  to  Scotland,  after  an  ineffectual  attempt 
to  reach  New  Englaud,  and  there  took  a  leading  part  in 
the  groat  movement  of  1638.  In  1639  the  "black  oath," 
which  forbade  the  making  of  any  covenants,  was  forced  by 
Wentworth  upon  the  Ulster  Scots.  His  absence  in  1640 
raised  hopes  which  were  destroyed  by  the  Irish  rebellion 
of  1641,  whereby  the  Protestant  interest  was  for  the  time 
ruined.  The  violence  of  the  storm  had,  however,  fallen 
upoh  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  her.  desolation  made  the 
rise  of  Presbyterianism  more  easy.  A  majority  of  the 
Ulster  Protestants  were  Presbyterian,  and  in  the  great 
revival  which  now  took  place  the  ministers  who  accom- 
panied the  Scottish  regiments  took  a  leading  part.  Sessions 
were  formed  in  four  regiments,  and  the  first  regular  presby- 
tery was  held  at  Carrickfergus  on  Friday  10th  June  1642, 
attended  by  five  ministers  and  by  ruling  elders  from  the  foui 
regimental  sessions.  This  presbytery  supplied  ministers 
to  as  many  congregations  as  possible,  and  for  the  remainder 
the  ministers  were  sent  from  Scotland  with  full  powers  of 
ordination.     Many  of  the  Episcopal  clergy  also  joined  the 

'  Chief  Jtr/erences. — Ncal,  Nisi,  of  the  Puritans;  Uiook,  Cart- 
terighl  ;  Strypo,  Whilgift  ;  Hcthtriiigtoii,  Hist,  of  Westminster  As- 
semhli/ ;  Mitchell,  I/ist.  of  Westminster  Assembl;/;  Orinc,  Baxter  End 
Owcri;  Hatlcy,  Ixmrashire^  its  Nonconformity ;  Toulntin,  Hist,  of  Dis- 
senters ;  Marsdcn,  Puritans  ;  Pari.  Uist.  ;  Pliiliii  Uciiry,  dory;  and 
tJic  vwiou?  iji^lish  histories. 


«92 


PRESBYTERIAN  ISM 


[iKELAND. 


(Winning  side,  and  by  the  end  of  1643  the  Ulster  church 
,was  fairly  established.  Ireland  was  included  in  the 
Solemn  League  and  Covenant,  though  the  oath  was  not 
taken  until  March  1644.  So  strong  were  the  Presbyterians 
that  their  Tequest  that  the  whole  army  should  be  aubjected 
to  their  discipline  was  at  once  granted ;  and,  when  a 
number  of  Episcopal  ministers  formed  themselves  into  a 
presbytery  of  their  own,  but  without  lay  eldership  and 
subjection  to  higher  courts,  the  jealous  zeal  of  the  Scots 
found  means  to  break  it .  up.  Meanwhile  they  were  in 
constant  communication  with  Scotland,  of  whose  system 
(Ulster  can  best  be  regarded  as  a  part.  In  1645  they  were 
gtrengthened  by  the  Scots  who  fled  from  Montrose,  and 
by  the  presence  of  the  commissioners  of  the  parliament, 
•who  ordered  that  the  covenant  should  be  tendered  to  all 
■who  had  not  yet  taken  it.  The  commissioners  also  gave 
the  tithes  of  parishes  to  ministers  who  applied  for  them, 
and  their  sanction  as  a  civU 'power  to  the  presbyteries  to 
censure  and  punish  scandalous  ministers.  It  should  be 
noted  that  this  assumption  by  the  civil  power  was  much 
scrupled  by  the  ministers  as  savouring  of  Erastianism,  and 
the  commissioners  had  to  explain  away  their  action.  The 
celebrated  vote  of  the  English  House  of  Commons  on  14th 
March  1646  was  the  first  check  ;  the  second  was  the  crush- 
ing defeat  of  the  Scottish  troops  at  Benburb  by  O'Neill. 
Nevertheless  by  1647  there  were,  besides  the  chaplains  of 
Scottish  regiments,  nearly  thirty  ordained  ministers  with 
fixed  charges  in  Ulster.  When  the  afiair  of  the  "  engage- 
ment "  took  place,  both  the  Scottish  parliament  and  the 
general  assembly  sent  to  secure  the  Irish  vote.  The  pres- 
byteries obeyed  the  church,  the  regiments  the  parliament. 
[  After  the  Scottish  defeat  at  Preston  the  English  parliament, 
I'now  entirely  anti- Presbyterian,  determined  to  attack  the 
.  Scots  in  Ulster.  In  this  they  were  so  well  served  by  Monk 
that  by  the  end  of  1648  the  Independents,  as  opposed  both 
to  Prelatists  and  Presbyterians,  were  superior,  and  by  the 
end  of  the  year  were  supreme.  Independency  became  the 
state  church,  and  the  Presbyterian  clergy  were  excluded 
from  the  garrison  towns.  In  spite,  however,  of  their 
downfallen  condition,  they  absolutely  refused  to  take  the 
oath  of  the  engagement,  which  bound  men  to  be  faithful 
to  the  Commonwealth  without  a  king  or  House  of  Lords, 
whereupon  the  most  important  among  them  were  arrested, 
while  the  rest  fled  to  Scotland.  During  1651  they  were 
excluded  from  the  pulpit  and  deprived  of  their  tithes,  and 
in  March  they  were  formally  banished  by  a  council  of  war, 
.  while  the  engagement  oath  was  pressed  on  all  classes. 

Upon  Henry  Cromwell's  arrival,  the  Protector's,  object 
j  being  to  reconcile  all  parties  to  his  sovereignty,  the  penal- 
.  ties  for  refusing  the  engagement  were  remitted ;  ministers 
ivere  allowed  to  ofiiciate  without  restraint ;  and  the  banished 
ministers  returned.  So  rapidly  did  their  number  increase 
that  by  1655  three  bodies  performing  aU  the  functions  of 
regularly  constituted  presbyteries  had  been  formed,  acting 
under  commission  of  the  whole  presbytery.  Meanwhile, 
however,  no  settled  maintenance  was  •  available,  and  it 
was  with  great  difiiculty  that  the  council  was  induced  to 
afford  two  years'  salary.  One  illustration  of  the  united 
state  of  this  church  and  of  its  autonomy  is  to  be  found  in 
its  action  regarding  the  schism  in  Scotland  between  Pro- 
testers and  Resolutioners.  At  a  general  meeting  at  Bangor 
it  was  determined, by  the  Act  of  Bangor,  1654,  that,  "though 
some  differed  in  opinion  from  the  rest,  yet  there  should  be 
no  mutual  contestings  about  the  differences  in  Scotland 
among  themselves,  nor  any  owning  of  them  on  either  side 
in  public  preaching  or  prayer.  But,  whatever  mention 
might  indirectly  be  made  of  these  divisions,  it  should  be 
in  order  to  healing  them  in  Scotland."  Under  Henry 
Cromwell  all  sects  pursued  their  course  in  peace,  and  the 
Presbyterians  esjjecially  increased  their  strength  until  the 


Restoration,  in  which  they  heartily  co-operated,  assisting 
Sir  C.  Coote  in  the  coup  de  main  which  secured  Dublin  for 
the  king  There  were  now  in  Ulster  seventy  ministers  in  ' 
fixed  charges,  with  nearly  eighty  parishes  or  congregations, 
containing  100,000  persons.  'These  ministers  were  in  five 
presbyteries,  holding  monthly  meetings  and  annual  visita- 
tions of  all  the  churches  wthin  their  bounds,  and  coining 
together  in  general  synod  four  times  a  year.  An  entire 
conformity  with  the  Scottish  Church  was  maintained,  and 
strict  discipline  was  enforced  by  kirk  sessions,  presbyteries, 
and  house-to-house  visitations. 

At  the  Restoration  the  determination  of  the  Govern- 
ment to  put  down  Presbyterianism  was  speedily  felt  in 
Ireland.  In  January  1661  the  lords  justices  forbade  all 
unlawful  assemblies,  imder  which  head  were  placed  meet- 
ings of  presbyteries,  as  exercising  ecclesiastical  jurisdiction 
not  warranted  by  the  laws  of  the  kingdom.  In  a  discus* 
sion  'with  Jeremy  Taylor  they  upheld  the  jus  divinum  of 
Presbyterianism  and  refused  to  take  the  oath  of  supremacy' 
without  the  qualification  suggested  by  Ussher.  At  first 
their  parishes  were  merely  declared  vacant  and  Episcopal 
clergy  appointed  to  them ;  but  shortly  afterwards  they 
wer&  forbidden  to  preach,  baptize,  or  publicly  exhort.  In 
Ulster  alone  sixty-one  ministers  were  ejected;  only  seven 
out  of  seventy  conformed.  .Conventicles,  of  course,  arose, 
conducted  chiefly  by  young  Covenanting  ministers  from 
Scotland,  of  whom  the  ablest,  most  indefatigable,  and  most 
obnoxious  to  the  authorities  was  Michael  Bruce. 

The  abortive  attempt  of  Blood,  in  which  he  endeavoured 
to  associate  the  Presbyterians,  brought  fresh  trouble,  and 
the  Ulster  ministers  were  with  a  few  exceptions  compelled 
to  leave  the  kingdom.  Ormonde,  indeed,,  refrained  from 
harassing  them ;  but  it  was  not  until  1665  that  the'un- 
molested  return  of  the  ministers  enabled  therd  to  revive 
their  worship  and  discipline.  Presbyteries  without  ruling 
elders  were  organized  in  private  houses,  parishes  were  regu- 
larly visited,  chapels  were  buUt,  baptisms  were  performed, 
help  was  sent  to  the  brethren  in  Holland,  and  offenders 
once  more  came  under  the  active  discipline  of  presbyteries 
and  kirk  sessions.  A  comrnittee  which  met  in  place  of  the 
regular  synod  went  so  far  as  to  .insist  that  all  irregular 
baptisms  should  be. regularly  performed.  The . toleration 
afforded  them  is  remarkable  when  compared  with  that  in 
England  and  Scotland. 

Hitherto,  thanks  to  the  wise  Act  of  Bangor,  the  church 
had  had  peace  within  her  own  borders.  It  was  not  until 
1671-72  that  this  was  broken  by  David  Houston,  who 
showed  an  impatience  of  ecclesiastical  restraint  and  opposed 
the  settled  ministry.  This  led  to  the  drawing  up  in 
February  1672  of  a  series  of  regulations  as  to  conducting  the 
trials,  ordination,  and  settling' of  ministers.  Houston  left 
Ireland  in  1673,  but  the  schism  created  by  him  lasted  till 
1840  in  the  Reformed  Presbyterian  Church  of  Ireland.  In 
1672  the  Presbyterian  Church  received  from  Charles  II.  a 
sum  of  £600  from  the  secret  service  fund. 

For  several  years  the  church  prospered,  not  only  in  the 
north,  but  in  the  south  and  west  as  well.  In  1679  the 
rising  in  Scotland,  which  ended  in  the'  battle  of  Both  well 
Brigg,  brought  trouble  on  the  Irish  Presbyterians,  in  spite 
of  their  loyal  addresses  disowning  it.  It  was  not,  how- 
ever, until  1682  that  they  again  lost  the  privilege  of  public 
'  ministry  and  that  oppression  became  so  severe.  They  cor- 
dially concurred  with  the  Episcopalians  against  James  II., 
though  they  had  benefited  by  his  Declaration  of  Indulg- 
ence, and  were  the  first  to  congratulate  William  III;  on  his 
arrival  in  England.  During  the  war  several  of  them  took 
an  active  part  in  the  siege  of  Londonderry ;  the  rest  fled  to 
Scotland.  A  list  sent  in  by  them  to  the  general  assembly 
shows  that  there  were  then  in  Ireland  a  hundred  congre- 
gations, seventy-five  with  fixed  ministers,  and  that  ther* 


I 


WANCE.] 


PRESBYTERIANISM 


693- 


(Were  eighty  micisters  under  five  presbyteries.  With  the 
Wose  of  the  war  came  the  close  of  their  troubles,  as  under 
iWilliam  they  enjoyed  complete  toleration.  So  hopeful 
jwere  they  of  regaining  supremacy  that  they  sent  up  a 
petition  to  the  crown  that,  since  the  north  of  Ireland  was 
almost  entirely  peopled  by  Scottish  Presbyterians,  Epis- 
copacy might  be  done  away  wi;;h  in  that  part.  In  1731 
again  a  deputation  of  ministers  and  elders  went  to  Dublin 
with  the  vain  request  th&t  their  church  might  receive 
legal  recognition  and  be  placed  on  an  equal  footing  with 
the  Episcopal  Church.  Irish  Prcsbyterianism  presents 
no  feature  of  note  until  1840,  when  the  original  synod 
of  Ulster  and  all  seceding  Presbyterian  churches  united 
themselves  in  the  "  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church  of  Ireland."  In  1881  there  were  36  presbyteries 
with  552  congregations,  containing  101,403  communi- 
cants, with  621  ministers.  Their  synods  meet  in  Belfast. 
Entirely  independent  of  other  churches,  they,  like  those  in 
England,  live  in  friendly  union  with  the  Scottish  Church. 
Both  English  and  Irish  Churches  are  in  sympathy  with 
the  Free  Church  on  the  questions  which  brought  about  the 
v  Disruption  of  1843.1 

France. — The  extension  of  the  Genevan  system  on  the 
synodal  side  became  necessary  as  soon  as  it  was  applied  to 
a  large  community.  Up  to  1555  the  organization  of  the 
French  churches  had  been  incomplete  :  there  had  besn  no 
settled  clergy  nor  regular  administration  of  the  sacraments. 
In  that  year,  however,  at  the  suggestion  of  De  la  Ferrifere, 
a  church  was  formed  at  Paris  on  the  Genevan  plan,  com- 
plete in  all  points,  with  La  Riviera  for  pastor ;  and  in 
a  few  years  the  organization  was  set  up  in  Meaux,  Angers, 
Poitiers,  Bourges,  Nimes,  Blois,  Tours,  and  Orleans.  By 
1559,  according  to  Theodore  de  Bfeze,  there  were  in  Franco 
2150  organized  churches;  in  1562  Cardinal  St  Crois 
reckoned  the  Huguenots  as  being  one-half  of  the  population. 
These  churches  were  isolated,  and  therefore  weak.  The 
step  needed  to  repair  their  weakness  was  taken  as  it  were 
by  accident.  Antoine  Chandieu,  minister  at  Paris,  while 
at  Poitiers  in  1558,  found  there  several  ministers  from 
the  neighbourhood.  It  struck  them  that  it  would  be 
serviceable  to  have  a  common  confession  of  faith  and 
system  of  government.  Thereupon  the  consistoire  of 
Paris  summoned  a  synod,  not,  however,  to  attribute  to  this 
church  any  special  pre-eminence  or  dignity.  On  26th 
May  1559  the  representatives  of  eleven  churches  met  in 
the  first  national  synod  and  laid  down  a  confession  of 
faith  (drawn  up  by  Chandieu)  and  a  system  of  discipline. 
The  confession,  in  forty  articles,  was  purely  Calvinistic. 
The  emphasis  with  which  the  right  and  duty  of  the 
magistrate  to  interfere  on  behalf  of  the  truth  are  insisted 
upon  is  important.  Foremost  in  the  discipline,  as  in  the 
confession,  comes  the  fundamental  statement  of  perfect 
equality  :  "  Aucune  dglise  no  pourra  pretendro  primaute 
■ni  domination  sur  I'autre  ;  ni  pareillement  les  ministres 
d'une  ^glise  Ics  uns  sur  les  autres  ;  ni  les  anciens,  ou 
diacres,  les  uns  sur  les  autres."  A  breach  of  this  law  was 
sternly  condemned  by  tho  synod  of  Orleans  in  1562. 

Next  to  the  consistoire,  which,  as  being  well  understood, 
is  not  mentioned,  came  the  colloque  (not  finally  settled 
until  1572),  consisting  of  the  minister  and  an  elder  from 
each  church  of  tho  district.  In  1637  a  colloque  was  com- 
posed of  representatives  from  about  ten  churches.  This  met 
twice  a  year  at  least  and  took  cognizance  of  disputes,  but 
had  no  initiative  power.  Each  province  contained  in  1637 
three  or  more  coUoqucs.  Above  the  colloque  was  the  ;)ro- 
viixial  synod,  also  containing  a  minister  and  an  elder  or 
deacon  for  each  church  in  the  province.  This  synod  met 
once  a  year.  Finally,  there  was  tho  jialional  synod,  which 
met  every  year  if  possible. 

J  See  Kciil,  Jlist.  of  trtshy.  in  Ireland  ;  Corte,  Ormond. 


(1)  Ministers  were  not  elected  by  the  congregation  (not 
even  by  a  minister  and  his  consistoire),  but  by  two  or  three 
ministers  with  their  consistoires,  by  the  provincial  S3'nod, 
or  by  the  colloque.  If  the  congregation  objected,  the  con- 
sistoire was  to  inquire  how  far  the  objection  was  valid  ;  if 
the  consistoire  upheld  the  congregation,  tho  provincial 
synod  had  the  final  right  of  decision  (art.  7).  In  1572, 
however,  the  synod  of  Nimes  laid  down  tho  principle  that 
no  minister  might  be  imposed  upon  an  unwilling  people. 
(2)  In  the  first  forming  of  a  church  the  elders  and  deacons 
were  elected  by  the  people ;  but  here  the  power  of  the  con- 
gregation ceased.  Future  vacancies  were  filled  up  by  the 
votes  of  those  remaining.  The  eldership  was  not  to  be  for 
life ;  but  there  was  always  a  tendency  to  make  it  so.  In 
1565  the  synod  of  Paris  warned  the  churches  not  to  change 
without  urgent  cause,  so  too  in  1572  at  Nimes.  In  1596, 
however,  it  was  decided  that  they  were  to  be  changed  when- 
ever expedient.  (3)  The  ofiTce  of  deacon  was  of  great  im- 
portance; besides  having  the  charge  of  the  poor  and  sick,  he 
might  catechize  and,  if  the  minister  were  ill,  offer  prayer 
and  read  a  written  sermon.  He  was  a  member  of  the* 
consistoire,  but  apparently  without  the  right  to  vote.  In 
1572  his  dignity  was  increased,  and  (compare  "  readers " 
in  Scotland)  he  was  regarded  as  preparing  for  the  ministry. 
As  regards  the  consistoire, — if  a  parish  was  without  one,  it 
must  be  created ;  if  a  great  lord  had  a  congregation  in  his 
own  family,  one  musi  be  formed  from  it.  In  1565  the 
power  of  excommunication  was  given  to  it,  and  it  might 
depose  elders  and  deacons,  with  appeal  to  the  provincial 
synod.  Its  right  to  manage  the  affairs  of  its  own  church 
was  strongly  asserted  in  1563,1 565,  and  1 57 1  at  the  synods 
of  Lyons,  Paris,  and  La  Rochelle.  One  of  the  ministers 
was  president,  but  only  as  primus  inter  pares.  Over  all 
marriage  and  baptismal  questions  it  had  jurisdiction  so 
long  as  it  avoided  interference  with  the  civil  Government 
by  dissolving  marriages.  The  attention  paid  to  marriage 
by  Prcsbyterianism  in  all  countries  is  worthy  of  notice. 
The  ruling  idea  is  the  intense  sanctity  of  the  tie.  Only  in 
case  of  adultery  might  it  be  broken  in  France.  A  contract 
of  marriage  was  declared  indissoluble  by  the  synod  of  Lyons 
(art.  44)  in  1563,  though  the  woman  averred  that  she  had 
been  forced  into  it  and  that  the  man  had  a  loathsome  dis- 
ease. Still  more  remarkable  examples  might  be  quoted.* 
The  office  of  elder  was  far  more  limited  than  in  Geneva  ; 
his  supervision  over  morals  was,  for  example,  confined  to 
reporting  scandals  to  the  consistory  ;  but  in  1572  this  was 
greatly  extended.  Tho  remarkable  feature  of  the  French 
system  is  its  aristocratical  nature :  the  consistory,  by  tho 
method  of  co-optation,  was  a  purelj'  aristocratic  council, 
and  the  greatest  pains  were  taken  by  the  various  synods 
to  crush  all  attempts  toVards  giving  power  to  the  congre- 
gations {e.g.,  tho  condemnation  of  Jean  Morelli,  1562-72, 
and  the  synods  of  Verteuil  in  1567  and  La  Kochclle  in 
1571). 

In  tho  national  synods,  also,  the  aristocratic  formation' 
soon  asserted  itself.  Up  to  1565  every  church  sent  a' 
minister  with  one  or  two  elders  or  deacons.  On  questions 
of  discipline  ciders  or  deacons  might  vote,  on  doctrinal 
questions  only  as  many  laymen  as  ministers.  In  1565, 
however,  to  avoid  overcrowding,  the  national  .syn^d  o{ 
Paris  determined  that  for  tho  future  only  one  or  two 
ministers  and  one  or  two  elders,  chosen  by  each  provi'nciai 
synod,  should  bo  admitted.  Thus  the  national  synod, 
which  had  hitherto  represented  single  churches,  now  reprd> 
.sented  only  tho  provincial  synods,  which  of  course  gained 
immensely  in  importance. 

The  church  disclaimed  any  encroachments  upon  the  civil 

'  For  the  method  of  constituting  a  consistory,  for  its  suporvisloik 
of  private  lifo  nn'il  public  morals,  gee  Borrel,  Hiatoire  de  VEglitt  it 
NhMS,  pp.  61,  90,  117. 


694 


PRESBYTERIANISM 


[fkancb. 


authority  (compare  the  national  synods  of  Lyons,  Figeac, 
LaRochelle,  Montauban,  1563,  1579, 15S1,  1594).  But  in 
M.  Borrel's  work,  especially  valuable  as  showing  what  went 
on  in  a  single  church,  we  find  that  so  early  as  1561  Pres- 
byterianism  was  following  its  natural  bent.  "A  mesure 
que  son  pouvoir  grandit,  il  impi^ta  sur  le  domaine  du 
gouvemement  civil,  et  crut  pouvoir  prendre  des  mesures 
pour  la  defense  .  .  .  pour  ordonner,  qui  plus  est,  les  levers 
d'argent,  .  .  .  En  un  mot,  la  poKce,  la  garde  de  la  vUle, 
I'inspection  de  la  coaduite  des  habitants,  .  .  .  devinrent 
graduellement  I'objet  de  ses  deliberations  et  de  ses  rfegle- 
ments."  And  a  stern  stand  was  made  against  the  supre- 
macy of  the  state.  In  1571  the  minister  of  Bordeaux  re- 
ported to  the  synod  of  La  Rochelle  "qu'un  m^decin  soutient 
que  le  ma^'strat  est  le  chef  de  I'^glise  et  que  ce  que  les 
ministres  entreprennent  n'est  que  tirannie."  The  synod 
rejected  "I'erreur  du  dit  m^decin  et  de  toua  autres  qui 
veulent  abolir  la  discipline  de  Teglise  en  la  confondant  avec 
le  gouvernement  civiL"  The  language  of  the  synods  will 
be  found,  to  vary  as  their  political  prospects  vary. 

The  cause  of  the  astonishing  progress  of  Protestantism 
and  the  extent  to  which  it  was  but  one  phase  of  a  general 
movement  for  reform  may  be  seen  in  the  proceedings  of 
the  states-general  at  Orleans  in  December  1560,  where, 
both  in  the  noblesse  and  in  tie  tiers-^tat,  loud  complaints 
were  uttered  against  the  clergy  (Felice,  p.  117),  and  free- 
dom of  worship  was  demanded.  Only  a  few  months  after- 
wards a  proposal  was  made  by  a  magistrate  of  Autun  to 
sell  all  the  church  lands,  to  retain  a  fourth  of  the  sum  for 
the  support  of  the  priests,  and  with  the  rest  to  pay  off 
the  crown  debts  and  encourage  agriculture  and  commerce. 
The  disbelief  in  the  possibility  of  two  widely  varying 
religions  living  side  by  side  is  shown  in  the  proposals  of 
all  the  speakers  for  a  national  councU  to  settle  vari- 
ances. "Otons  ces  noms  diaboliques,"  said  De  I'Hopital, 
"ces  noms  de  parti3,^_fact{'ons,  et  seditions — Luthmens, 
Hug^ierwts,  Papistes — ne  changeons  pas  le  nom  de  Chretien." 

Great  forces  were  contending  for  Protestantism  ;  it  had 
the  goodwill  of  three-fourths  of  the  nobles  and  of  the-l>our- 
geoisie  in  the  principal  towns.  But  against  it  were  ranged 
the  strength  of  tradition  and  of  habit ;  the  craft  of  Cathe- 
rine de'  Medici,  to  whom  all  religions  were  equally  matters 
of  policy ;  the  ambition  of  the  Guises,  backed  by  Spain ; 
the  interests  of  the  clergy,  backed  by  the  pope ;  and  the 
Paris  mob.  And  thsre  was  another  influence,  perhaps 
3tUl  more  powerful.  One  of  the  greatest  obstacles  to  the 
success  of  a  new  religious  movement  in  a  country  of  strong 
national  feeling  will  be  the  existence  of  a  strong  national 
church.  The  church  of  France  was  Gallican,  anti-papal, 
practically  and  essentially  national.  In  spite  of  manifold 
corruptions  she  had  become  the  centre  of  much  national 
attachment.  As  was  the  case  in  England,  she  represented 
the  idea  of  nationality  in  a  concrete  form,  and  in  this  lies 
to  a  great  measure  the  explanation  of  the  fact  that  the 
Huguenots  had  so  long  to  fight  for  the  right  to  exist. 

By  September  1 56 1  the  situation  had  become  intoler- 
able. The  colloquy  of  Poissy  then  met,  as  desired  by  De 
("HSpitaJ.  It  made  but  one  thing  clear :  union  was  im- 
possible ;  extermination  for  one  of  the  conflicting  faiths,  or 
theit  concurrent  existence,  were  the  alternatives.  The 
edict  of  January  1562  marked  the  conditions  on  which 
the  latter  was  adopted.  One  remarkable  provision  was 
that  ministers  should  swear  be/ore  the  ciml  magistrate  to 
preach  according  to  the  word  of  God  and  the  Nicene  creed. 
By  March  war  had  begun  ;  the  peace  of  Amboise  in  March 
the  next  year  gave  the  Protestants  some  privileges,  which, 
however,  were  afterwards  much  restricted,  especially  in  the 
matter  of  synod?,  in  .4.ngT3St  1564;  and  the  armed  truce 
lasted  until  1567.  During  these  years  the  churches  con- 
solidated themselves.    At  NLmes,  for  example,  the  Genevan 


discipline  was  established  in  full  rigour.  The  tendency  of 
the  consistory  to  encroach  on  the  civil  domain  was  shown 
in  many  ways,  whUe  the  closely  aristocratic  nature  of  the 
French  system  appeared  from  the  fact  that  at  each  annual 
election  the  outgoing  members  formed  a  body  called  the 
"  old  consistory,"  which  was  joined  with  the  new  consistory 
for  election  of  ministers  and  all  ordinary  affairs.  Ita 
ministers  were  of  two  classes — the  one  ordinary  and  per- 
petual, the  other  temporary,  such  as  the  professors  at  the 
theological  college. 

The  wars  of  1567  displayed  the  value  of  the  facility 
for  union,  which  was  one  of  the  most  important  features 
of  the  Presbyterian  polity.  During  three  years  of  horrors 
meetings  both  of  consistories  and  of  provincial  synods  were 
held.  In  April  1571,  at  the  peace  of  St  Germain  en  Laye, 
the  seventh  national  synod  at  La  Rochelle  reaffirmed  the 
confession  of  faith.  In  May  1572  a  very  important  synod 
was  held  at  Nimes,  in  which  the  whole  church  system  was 
carefully  revised  and  developed  in  many  important  respects, 
some  of  which  have  been  mentioned.  The  rigidity  of  the 
Calviiustic  faith  was  illustrated  by  the  sentence  of  excom- 
munication against  ministers  or  elders  who  caused  any 
dispute  touching  doctrine,  ceremonies,  or  discipline,  arid  the 
Puritan  temper  by  the  prohibition  "assister  aux  spectacles 
profanes,  comme  aux  danses  de  th^&tre,  aux  comMies," 
ifec.  The  church  senate,  the  difference  of  which  from  the 
consistory  it  is  difficult  to  trace,  was  now  merged  in  it,  and 
care  was  taken  to  get  rid  of  wandering  and  uncertificated 
ministers  by  drawing  up  a  "  role  des  vagabonds." 

By  the  end  of  1573  the  positions  of  the  Catholics  and  of 
the  "  religion  prtJtendue  r^formde,"  as  it  was  henceforward 
officially  known,  had  greatly  altered.  Against  the  Italian 
and  Spanish  influences,  as  represented  by  Catherine  and 
the  Guises,  there  had  after  St  Bartholomew's  Day  arisen 
a  patriot  Catholic  parly  ;  while  the  Presbyterians  had 
become  sharply  divided  into  two  bodies, — one  the  Consis- 
toriaux  (the  Covenanters  of  France),  careful  only  for  the 
purity  and  free  exercise  of  their  religion,  and  the  other  the 
Aristocracy  (as  in  Scotland),  who,  having  become  Presby-  Polii  1 
terians  for  political  purposes,  were  now  fearful  of  seeing  ^'^^ 
themselves  excluded  from  political  life,  and  were  therefore  ^^^ 
anxious  for  union  and  compromise.  This  party  formed  a 
league  with  the  Catholic  patriots,  and,  as  the  "  tiers-parti," 
was  so  threatening  that  Henry  III.,  to  sever  the  alliance, 
offered  to  the  Calvinist  Aristocracy  the  free  exercise  of 
their  religion,  and,  what  they  were  far  more  anxious 
about,  full  participation  in  public  employments  and  the 
re-establishment  of  their  chiefs  in  their  former  positions. 
Fighting,  however,  again  broke  out  in  the  beginning  of 
1577,  and  was  adverse  to  the  Presbjfterians,  who  never- 
theless held  a  national  synod  at  Sainte  Foy  in  1578, 
attended  by  a  commissioner  from  Henry  of  Na-s'arre.  Very 
remarkable  is  the  strictness  with  which  in  a  time  of  desola- 
tion the  laws  of  the  church  were  maintained.  The  luke- 
warmness  of  the  Presbyterian  Aristocracy  had  made  the 
ministers  stern  and  unyielding,  and  they  now  gained  great 
influence.  In  this  respect  too  the  course  of  things  was 
very  analogous  to  that  in  Scotland.  In  both  countries 
the  ministers  threw  themselves  upon  the  lower  middle 
classes  as  distinct  from  and  opposed  to  the  aristocracy. 
In  1585  Henry  III.  came  to  terms  vrith  the  Guise  faction 
at  Nemours  on  condition  of  exterminating  Calvinism. 
This,  however,  was  under  the  stress  of  circumstances  ;  his 
policy  was  to  play  off  one  party  against  the  other,  and  he 
soon  became  lukewarm  in  persecution.  Along  with  Henry 
of  Navarre  he  was  excommunicated  by  the  pope  ;  he  replied 
by  defiance,  murdered  Guise,  was  compelled  by  the  abhor- 
rence thus  created  to  join  the  Protestants,  marched  with  , 
Navarre  on  Paris,  and  was  there,  in  1589,  assassinated. 
To  cain  the  Catholics  and  to  retain  the  Presbyterians  waa 


rBAlfOE.] 


PRESBYTERIANISM 


695 


Henry  IV. 's  task  after  Ivry.  To  secure  the  latter  he  put 
out  an  edict  of  toleration ;  to  gain  the  former  he  was 
"converted"  to  Catholicism  in  1593.  The  Presbyterian 
Aristocracy  now  took  a  most  important  step.  In  May 
1594  they  held  a  political  meeting  at  Sainte  Foy  and 
formally  established  a  political  imperium  in  imperio  of 
the  most  decided  character.  France  was  divided  into  ten 
sections  for  administrative  purposes.  There  was  a  general 
council  of  four  nobles,  four  bourgeois,  two  clergy, — the 
numbers  being  afterwards  raised  to  twelve,  twelve,  and 
six.  Under  the  general  councU  were  the  provincial  councils 
of  five  or  seven  members,  of  whom  only  one  was  necessarily 
a  minister.  The  general  council  acted  as  an  intermediary 
between  the  whole  body  of  the  Calvinists  and  the  king. 
Owing  doubtless  to  its  operation  Henry,  whose  leading 
idea  was  national  unity,  in  April  1598  ("  I'an  de  salut") 
put  forth  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  which  practically  conceded 
entire  liberty  of  conscience  to  the  Presbyterians.  The  truce 
lasted  during  the  rest  of  Henry's  reign.  Synods  were  re- 
gularly held,  and  the  language  of  controversy  became  more 
bitter.  At  Gap,  in  1603,  the  pope  was  declared  to  be 
Antichrist,  and  this  declaration  was  in  force  until  1637, 
when  the  synod  of  AJen^on  was  compelled  to  expunge  it. 
At  the  synod  of  Gap  it  was  reported  that  there  were  760 
organized  churches,  with  565  ministers.  The  ministry  now 
received  from  the  king  a  subsidy  of  40,000  crowns,  the 
distribution  of  which  took  up  a  large  part  of  the  time  of 
subsequent  synods.  In  spite  of  the  confirmations  of  the. 
Edict  which  followed  Henry's  death,  the  anxious  Presby- 
terians held  another  political  synod  at  Saumur  in  1611, 
when  they  swore  faith  to  the  crown,  "  le  souverain  empire 
de  Dieu  demeurant  toujours  en  son  entier."  In  1620  the 
political  assembly  met  at  La  RocheUe,  when  they  confis- 
cated all  property  belonging  to  Catholic  churches,  struck 
a  great  seal,  levied  arms  and  taxes,  organi2ed  the  church, 
and  divided  France  into  eight  military  districts.  The  aus- 
terity and  intolerance  displayed  at  the  synods  at  this  time 
were  intense  (see  Buckle,  vol.  ii.  p.  57,  ed.  1867).  The 
war,  however,  was  disastrous  to  the  Presbyterians,  and  at 
the  peace  of  Montpellier  the  cessation  of  political  meetings 
was  insisted  upon.  The  policy  of  Richelieu  was  that  of 
Henry  IV., — protection  as  regarded  religion,  and  a  stead- 
fast refusal  to  permit  any  political  "  league  "  which  tended, 
against  the  concentration  of  French  nationality.  The 
result  of  his  treatment  of  combined  conciliation  and  repres- 
sion and  of  the  attractions  of  the  court  on  the  nobility 
was  that  the  Presbyterians,  as  a  political  party,  ceased  to 
exist.  The  number  of  churches,  too,  greatly  diminished  : 
in  1603  there  were  760,  in  1619  only  700.  Mazarin 
pursued  the  same  course  ;  and  his  assent  in  1660  to  the 
synod  of  Loudun  was  the  last  favour  they  received. 

The  action  of  the  fourteen  synods  held  since  1600  had 
been  (ae  was  also  the  case  in  Scotland)  in  the  direction 
of  increasing  the  power  of  the  mini.>!ter  and  diminishing 
that  of  the  elders  and  congregations  (Vitr6  in  1 603,  La 
Rochelle  in  1607,  and  Gap  in  1617),  and  to  define  the 
relations  with  the  state.  From  1623  (Charenton)  a  royal 
commissioner  was  always  present,  and  year  by  year  the 
increasing  subserviency  of  their  language  shows  that  the 
national  synods  were  coming  more  and  more  under  royal 
control.  In  1637  (Alencjon)  the  royal  commissioner,  who 
openly  taunted  them  with  their  powerlessness,  forbade 
not  only  the  provincial  synods  but  even  intercourse  of  the 
(national  synods  with  the  provinces.  In  1657  meetings 
for  the  choice  of  ministers  were  prohibited,  and  then 
the  colloques  were  suppressed.  At  Loudun  in  1659  the 
national  synod  was  forbidden  and  the  provincial  synods 
were  restored.  The  greatest  jealousy,  too,  was  shown  by 
the  crown  in  respect  of  communication  with  other  countries. 
No  one  might  be  a  minister  who  was  not  bora  in  France, 


or  who  had  studied  in  Geneva,  Holland,  or  England,  the 
hot-beds  of  republicanism.  The  Presbyterians  showed  a 
corresponding  desire  for  union  with  other  Protestants.  In 
1620  they  accepted  the  confession  of  the  synod  of  Dort; 
in  1631,  for  the  first  time,  they  held  out  the  hand  of  fellow- 
ship to  the  Lutherans.  In  1 6 1 4  an  attempt  had  been  already 
made  to  convene  a  general  council  of  orthodox  churches 
from  all  Protestant  countries  ;  and  an  oath  of  union  was 
taken  among  themselves,  repeated  at  Charenton  in  1623. 
With  two  parties  alone  they  would  accept  no  union,  Roman 
Catholics  and  Independents. 

Of  the  time  of  horrors  which  reached  its  climax  in  the 
revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes  in  1685  we  can  give  no 
account  here.  The  provincial  synods  were  held  continu- 
ously and  were  of  great  importance  in  preserving  the 
vitality  and  spirit  of  the  church.  Thus  in  1661  the  pro- 
vincial synod  of  Ntmes  checked  defection  by  compelling 
every  minister  within  its  bounds  to  swear  that  he  had  not 
thought  of  joining  "light  to  darkness  and  God  to  Belial."' 
It  is  reckoned  that  under  th"e  persecution,  in  addition  to 
the  killed,  from  four  to  five  millions  of  French  Protestants 
left  the  country.  Armed  resistance  took  place,  but  no 
settled  struggle  untU  1702,  when  the  war  of  the  Camisards 
took  place  in  Languedoc, — a  war  of  uneducated  peasants 
without  arms  or  leaders  of  rank.  Like  the  Cameronians, 
they  believed  that  they  received  direct  communications  from 
God  ;  they  had  their  prophets  or  "  inspires";  they  lived  in 
a  state  of  religious  ecstasy;  and  bore  with  patient  defiance 
spoliation,  the  galleys,  and  death ;  and,  when  opportunity 
offered,  they  exercised  against  their  enemies  reprisals  as 
cruel  as  was  the  persecution  itself.  For  three  years  every 
effort  to  crush  them  was  made  in  vain ;  and  they  yielded 
at  last  only  to  the  moderate  measures  of  Villars. 

To  abolish  the  undisciplined  rule  of  the  "inspires"  and  to 
restore  Presbyterianism,  which  had  ceased  since  the  revo- 
cation, was  the  work  of  Antoine  Court,  the  most  notable 
figure  produced  by  Protestant  France.  From  1715  to 
1730,  without  a  day's  rest,  this  man  accomplished  a  work 
truly  marvellous.  He  was  but  eighteen  years  old  when 
he  began  it.  In  momentary  peril  of  death  for  fifteen  years, 
he  restored  in  the  Vivarais  and  the  Cevennes  the  Presby- 
terian constitution  in  all  its  integrity.  On  21st  August 
1715  he  assembled  his  first  colldque,  consisting  of  the 
preachers  of  the  Cevennes  and  several  laymen.  In  1718 
he  held  a  synod  of  forty-five  members,  and  again  in  1723, 
when  the  old  discipline  was  restored.  In  1726  he  held 
another  synod  attended  by  three  ministers  and  forty-foui 
elders,  and  again  in  the  next  year;  and  in  1744,  in  a  re- 
mote spot  of  Bas  Languedoc,  the  first  national  synod  since 
1660  brought  together  representatives  from  every  province 
formerly  Protestant.  This  alarmed  the  Government,  and 
persecution  again  began.  From  1760,  however,  thanks  to 
the  gradual  spread  of  the  sceptical  spirit  and  to  the  teach- 
ings of  Voltaire,  more  tolerant  views  prevailed ;  synods 
were  held  without  disturbance;  and  in  1787  Turgot^  whose 
great  object  was  to  separate  the  civil  and  the  spiritual 
domains,  put  out  the  Edict  of  Tolerance.  In  1789  all 
citizens  were  made  equal  before  the  law,  and  the  position 
of  Presbyterianism  improved  up  to  1791.  Napoleon  in 
1801  and  1802  took  into  his  own  hands  the  independence 
of  both  Catholic  and  Protestant  churches.  The  consistory 
was  abolished  and  replaced  by  an  "iglise  consistoriale," 
uniting  several  churches.  Representation  on  the  "  premier 
consistoire  "  of  this  "  6gli80  "  was  now  determined  by  taxa- 
tion instead  of  by  choice  of  the  people.  Five  "^glises 
consistoriales  "  formed  a  "  B)raode  d'arrondissement,"  which 
superseded  the  provincial  synod.  It  consisted  of  ten  mem- 
bers only,  and  was  absolutely  under  state  control.     The 


>  See  Borrul  for  tliis  and  for  a  most  intorutiiig  account  of  tha  actioD 
of  tlie  consistory  of  Niiuca  iu  1663. 


696 


P.  RESBYTERIANISM 


[NETHERLANDS. 


national  synod  was  abolished.  "  C'6tait  une  liberty  interne 
et  mur^e  dans  les  temples.  II  y  avait  rigoureus%  defense 
de  faire  aucun  bruit,  aucun  mouvement  dans  les  clioses  de 
religion,  ni  journaux,  ni  associations,  ni  controverse,  ni 
pros^lytisme ;  et  si  quelqu'  id6e  ou  action  r^ligieuse  osait 
franchir  I'enceinte  oii  elle  etait  emprisonn^e,  la  main  de  fer 
de  Napoleon  I'y  refoulait  imm^diatement."  Its  life  was 
taken  from  the  church,  and  in  1807  it  numbered  less  than 
200  ministers. 

In  1848,  however,  all  but  three  of  the  ninety-two  "^glises 
consistoriales "  sent  a  deputy  to  an  assembly  at  Paris. 
From  this  assembly,  when  it  refused  to  discuss  points  of 
doctrine,  a  secession  took  place,  and  the  secessionists  with 
the  independent  churches  which  had  sprung  up  formed 
the  "  Union  des  ^glises  6vang61iques  de  France."  This 
society  held  a  synod  in  1849  and  there  laid  down  a  con- 
fession of  faith  and  an  ecclesiastical  discipline.  Mean- 
while the  established  church  set  itself  to  the  work  of 
reconstitution  on  the  basis  of  universal  suffrage  (with  re- 
strictions), the  particular  church  being  an  essential  element, 
with  provincial  synods,  and  a  general  synod  meeting  at 
regular  intervals;  but  no  result  was  arrived  at.  In  1852 
a  change  took  place  in  its  constitution.  The  "^gUses  con- 
sistoriales "  were  abolished,  and  in  each  parish  a  presby- 
terial  council  was  erected,  the  pastor  being  president,  with 
from  four  to  seven  elders  chosen  by  the  people.  In  the 
large  towns  there  were  consistoires  composed  of  all  the 
pastors  and  of  delegates  from  the  various  parishes.  Half 
the  elders  in  each  assembly  were  subject  to  re-election 
every  three  years.  Above  all  was  the  central  provincial 
council,  consisting  of  the  two  senior  pastors  and  fifteen 
members  nominated  by  the  state  in  the  first  instance.  All 
property  qualification  for  eldership  was  abolished.  In  1 858 
there  were  617  pastors,  and  the  subvention  from  the  state 
amounted  to  1,375,936  francs.  Ihe  "  Union  des  6glises 
6vang61iques  "  numbered  twenty-seven  chiu'ches.^ 
Position  The  Netherlands. — From  the  geographical  position  of 
I"  t^e  the  Netherlands  Presbjrterianism  took  there  from  the  be- 
j^^''  ginning  its  tone  from  France.  In  1562  the  CoM/emo^e;- 
gica  was  revived,  according  to  the  French  Confession  of 
1559,  and  publicly  acknowledged ;  and  in  1563  the  church 
system  was  similarly  arranged.  In  1572,  however,  in  the 
northern  provinces  alone,  which  had  been  chiefly  Lutheran 
or  Melanchthonian,  serious  schisms  took  place.  The  in- 
vasion of  Alva  of  course  destroyed  all  Protestant  6rder, 
and  it  was  not  imtil  the  Union  of  Utrecht  in  1579  that 
the  exiled  Presbyterians  returned.  Previous  to  this,  how- 
ever^  in  1574,  the  first  provincial  synod  of  Holland  and 
Zealand  had  been  held ;  but  William  of  Orange  would  not 
allow  any  action  to  be  taken  independently  of  the  state. 
The  Reformed  churches  had  established  themselves  in 
independence  of  the  state  when  that  state  was  Catholic  ; 
when  the  Government  became  Protestant  the  church  had 
protection,  and  at  the  same  time  became  dependent :  it 
was  a  state  church.  The  independence  of  the  church  was 
not  consistent  with  that  of  the  communes  and  provinces, 
each  of  which  by  the  Union  of  Utrecht  had  the  regulation 
f/  its  own  religion.  Thus  the  history  of  the  church  is  one 
of  constant  conflict.  Both  church  and  state  were  divided, 
the  former  into  Zwinglian  and  Calvinist,  the  latter  into 
those  who  desired  and  those  who  refused  a  non-Erastian 
church.  In  most  cases  it  was  insisted  on  as  necessary  that 
church  discipline  should  remain  with  the  local  authority. 
In  1576  William,  with  the  support  of  Holland,  Zealand, 
and  their  allies,  put  forth  forty  articles,  by  which  doctors, 
'  For  Presbyterianism  in  France,  see  De  Felice,  Hist,  des  Protestants 
cU  France  ;  Aymon,  St/nodes  Nationaux  des  Eglises  R^formies  de 
France  ;  Borrel,  Hist,  de  V Eglise  Reformee  de  Atm&s  ;  B^ze,  Hist. 
EccUsiastiqne ;  Weber,  OeschicUliche  Darslellung,  &c.  ;  Coquerel, 
Hist,  des  £rjlisea  dii  Desert ;  Vincent,  Yut  sur  le  Prolistantisme  en 
France ;  Bucklej  History. 


elders,  and  deacons  were  recognized  and  church  discipline 
given  to  the  elders,  with  appeal  to  the  magistrate,  but  which 
placed  the  church  in  absolute  dependence  on  the  state. 
These  articles,  however,  never  came  into  operation ;  and 
the  decisions  of  the  s3mod  of  Dort  in  1578,  which  made 
the  chiirch  independent,  were  equally  fruitless.  In  1581 
the  Middelburg  synod  divided  the  church,  created  pro- 
vincial synods  and  presbyteries,  but  could  not  shake  off  the 
civil  power  in  connexion  with  the  choice  of  church  officers. 
Thus,  although  Presbyterian  congregations  remained  the 
rule,  the  civil  Government  retained  overwhelming  influence. 
As  the  Leyden  magistrates  said  in  1581,  "If  we  accept 
everything  determined  upon  irf  the  synods,  we  shall  end 
by  being  vassals  of  the  synod.  We  will  not  open  to  church- 
men a  door  for  a  new  mastership  over  Government  and 
subjects,  wife  and  chUd." 

The  contest  between  Zwinglian  and  Calvinist  came  to  a 
decision  at  the  synod  of  Dort,  1618.  Arminius,  on  the  one 
hand,  inveighed  against  church  autonomy  as  a  new  pope- 
dom ;  Gomarus  defended  it.  The  oligarchy  supported 
Arminius ;  the  democratic  party,  headed  by  the  stadt- 
holders,  held  with  the  Calvinists.  The  question  at  first 
was  whether  synods  should  be  provincial  or  general.  The 
independent  provinces  were  naturally  for  provincial  S3mods, 
as  Arminius  wished,  the  states-general  for  a  national  synod. 
The  synod  of  Dort,  wherein  were  represented  all  Reformed 
churches,  decided  against  Arminius.  When  that  was  settled, 
the  church  system,  as  laid  down  in  1586  at  the  synod  of 
The  Hague  (called  by  the  earl  of  Leicester),  and  including 
general  synods,  was  confirmed.  This,  however,  was  accepted 
only  in  Utrecht  and  Guelders;  and  from  1619  to  1795  there 
were  seven  church  republics  with  more  or  less  state  inter- 
ference. The  synodal  form  predominated,  except  in 
Zealand,  and  the  Presbyterian  form  also,  except  in  a  few 
congregations  which  did  not  choose  elders.  As  a  rule 
elders  held  oflice  for  only  two  years.  The  "kerke  raad," 
or  kirk  session,  met  weekly,  the  magistrate  being  a  member 
ex  officio.  The  coUoque  consisted  of  one  minister  and  one 
elder  from  each  congregation.  At  the  annual  provincial 
synod,  held  by  consent  of  the  states,  two  ministers  and  one 
elder  attended  from  each  colloque.  Every  congregation 
was  annually  visited  by  ministers  appointed  by  the  pro- 
vincial sjTiod.  The  old  controversy  broke  out  again  in 
the  middle  of  the  17  th  century,  Johann  Cocceius  and 
Gisbert  Voet  being  the  Arminian  and  Calvinist  cham- 
pions.    The  state  made  good  its  power  in  every  case. 

In  1795,  of  course,  everything  was  upset;  and  it  was 
not  until  after  the  restoration  of  the  Netherland  states 
that  a  new  organization  in  1816  was  formed.  Its  main 
features  were  that  it  was  strictly  synodal,  with  a  national 
synod,  and  Presbyterian.  But  the  minister  was  greatly 
superior  to  the  elder,  and  the  state  had  wide  powers,  especi- 
ally in  the  nomination  of  higher  officers.  In  1827  a  new 
organ  was  brought  into  play,  viz.,  a  permanent  commission 
of  the  general  synod,  consisting  of  seven  members,  chosen 
by  the  king  from  tv?ice  their  number  nominated  by  tha 
synod,  meeting  twice  a  year.  This  was  revived  in  1847. 
In  1851  the  system  now  in  force  was  formed.  In  every 
congregation  sufficiently  large  there  is  a  church  council  of 
all  the  officers.  In  large  congregations  with  three  or  more 
ministers  the  ministers  and  elders  alone  form  one  college, 
the  deacons  another.  The  congregation  chooses  all  officers. 
There  are  43  presbyteries  in  10  provincial  districts;  in 
1850  there  were  1273  congregations  with  1508  ministers 
and  over  1,500,000  people.  The  special  provincial  synod 
(1619-1795)  has  ceased.  In  its  place  is  the  provincial 
authority  of  as  many  ministers  as  presb)rteries  in  the  pro- 
vince ;  it  chooses  its  own  president.  It  meets  three  times 
a  year,  and  has  general  superintendence,  with  power  of 
examining,  placing,  and  deposing  ministers.     A  general 


PALATINATE,  ETC.] 


PRESBYTERIANISM 


697 


synod  meets  at  The  Hague  every  July  ;  tha  ten  provincial 
authorities  send  each  one  minister  and  three  elders,  chosen 
by  each  of  those  authorities  in  turn,  and  a  deputy  from 
each  of  the  three  theological  colleges  of  Leyden,  Utrecht, 
and  Groningen.  The  commissions  for  the  Walloon,  East 
and  West  Indian,  and  Limburg  churches  also  send  each  a 
representative.  The  permanent  commission  is  chosen  by 
the  synod  itself,  and  altogether  the  church  is  independent 
of  the  state. 

Rhine  Provinces. — In  the  Palatinate  the  spirit  of  the 
Presbyterian  organization,  though  not  the  thing  itself,  had 
been  active  since  the  middle  of  the  16th  century;  and  in 
1568  Wither  of  Heidelberg,  an  Englishman,  urged  the 
establishment  of  the  eldership.  In  1570  Frederick  III. 
established  a  church  college  in  every  congregation.  Elders 
were  for  life.  Besides  the  college  or  kirk  session  there 
was  the  church  council  in  Heidelberg,  consisting  of  three 
theologians  and  three  laymen ;  one  of  the  latter  presided. 
These  were  all  nominated  by  the  Government.  Between  the 
church  council  and  the  various  colleges  were  superintend- 
ents or  inspectors.  Finally  there  were  synods,  provincial 
and  general,  of  ministers  only.  This  arrangement  was 
a  compromise  between  the  Lutheran  and  Presbyterian 
systems.  From  1576  to  1583,  after  Frederick's  death,  the 
system  was  again  Lutheran,  but  was  made  Presbyterian 
once  more  by  John  Casimir,  tutor  to  Frederick  IV.,  and 
80  it  remained.  The  churches  of  t)ie  lower  Rhine  were 
formed  at  first  entirely  by  foreign  refugees.  Walloons  fled 
from  Charles  V.'s  persecution  in  1545,  and  again  in  1553- 
54.  In  1564  the  Heidelberg  catechism  was  introduced. 
Thousands  of  Protestants  were  driven  hither  by  Alva  in 
1567-68,  and  in  the  latter  year  a  synod  was  held  at  Wesel 
of  forty-six  preachers  and  elders  from  twenty  Netherland 
churches.  The  Presbyterian  system  was  now  fully  intro- 
duced. For  the  election  of  ministers  and  elders,  until 
synods  could  be  regularly  established,  twice  as  many  were 
to  be  nominated  as  were  wanted,  and  then  the  congregation 
was  to  choose  by  individual  voting.  A  "collegium  pro- 
phetarum  "  was  to  be  formed  of  all  the  officers  and  learned 
laymen  for  Bible  exposition  every  week  or  fortnight.  In 
1571  the  synod  of  Emden  determined  that  half  the 
elders  and  deacons  were  to  give  up'  office  every  year,  but 
might  be  re-elected.  Readers,  on  the  Scottish  plan,  were 
appointed,  and  entire  parity  among  all  the  church  officers 
and  the  congregation  insisted  on.  The  synods  are  as  in 
France,  the  members  of  the  general  synod  being  chosen 
from  the  provincial  synod.  The  system  was  in  fact  partly 
French  and  partly  Scottish.  The  congregations  were  in 
three  divisions — (1)  Germany  and  East  Friedland,  (2) 
Netherlands,  (3)  England.  In  158fi  a  synod  was  held  at 
Nassau,  and  the  system  was  partially  introduced  in  West- 
phalia in  1588  ;  in  general,  however,  in  Lutheran  countries 
Presbyterianism  made  but  little  way  against  the  consistories. 
Its  prevalence  in  Germany  generally  was  too  partial  and 
obscure,  and  it  partook  too  much  of  the  consistorial  char- 
acter, to  require  notice  here. 

Poland,  <i:c. — The  Polish  nobility  and  all  of  Slav  blood 
accepted  the  "  Reformed "  doctrine  and  discipline,  the 
aristocratic  republican  system  suiting  the  national  polity. 
The  German  element,  however,  retained  Lutheran  sym- 
pathies. The  first  synod  was  held  at  Pinkzow  in  1550; 
from  1556  John  Lasky  worked  in  the  interests  of  Calvinism ; 
in  1570  all  parties  were  united  at  the  synod  of  Sandomir. 
By  this  a  common  confession  was  agreed  to,  but  church 
government  was  left  to  be  settled  by  each  church.  Another 
general  synod  was  held  at  Cracow  in  1573.  In  spite  of 
the  earnest  endeavours  of  the  church  leaders,  it  was  found 
impossible  to  introduce  stringent  discipline  in  the  congre- 
gations ;  on  the  synodal  side,  however,  the  system  flour- 
ished, anil  thn  nobles  won,  able  to  convert  the  synods  into 


new  aristocratic  assemblies.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
the  Reformation  was  confined  to  the  nobility,  the  serfs 
being  neglected.  Many  of  the  nobles  relapsed  to  Roman- 
ism ;  this  and  internal  divisions  weakened  the  Reformed 
cause.  In  1634  a  synod  was  held  to  meet  the  taunt  of 
the  Catholics  that  no  two  churches  had  the  same  system. 
From  1655,  when  the  Swedes  were  in  Poland,  the  influ- 
ence of  synods  practically  ceased. 

The  Bohemian  Brethren  were  known  of  in  1450;  in 
their  statutes  (1457)  discipline,  entirely  managed  by  the 
whole  congregation,  had  an  Important  place;  in  the  16th 
century  it  was  specialized,  elders  being  chosen  to  act  with 
the  minister.  After  the  Schmalkald  War  in  1544  the 
Brethren  were  driven  to  Prussia  and  Poland.  During  the 
16th  century  they  developed  rapidly;  their  system,  [sanc- 
tioned in  1609,  had  many  peculiarities;  it  placed,  for 
instance,  the  supervision  of  the  wuraen  with  female  elders. 
In  1630  they  printed  at  Lissa  their  Ratio  disciplinx  ordin- 
isqve.  The  Thirty  Years'  War  destroyed  them,  except  in 
Great  Poland,  where  they  were  led  by  Comenius.  Just  as 
difierent  civil  governments — e.g.,  monarchical,  aristocratic, 
democratic — suited  difierent  peoples,  he  said,  so  it  was 
with  religious  governments,  c.y.,  Episcopal,  Consistorial, 
Presbyterian.  Let  all  three  be  welded  into  one,  and  we 
shall  have  unity  from  the  first,  association  from  the  second, 
propagation  from  the  third.  Accordingly  their  system  was 
a  combined  one  of  Episcopacy,  consistories,  and  synods. 

In  Hungary  up  to  1550  the  Lutherans  were  supreme ;  Hungujfc 
but  in  1557  the  Calvinists  had  the  majority,  and  their 
system  was  accepted  in  its  entirety  in  1558.  The  race 
division  here  also  decided  the  ecclesiastical  system.  All 
of  German  blood  in  Hun'gary  and  Transylvania  remained 
true  to  Lutheranism,  whilst  the  Magyars  and  Slavs  ac- 
cepted Calvinism.  Continual  contests  with  both  L^nitarians 
and  Jesuits  prevented  the  free  development  of  Presbyter- 
ianism ;  hence  it  was  confined  to  the  synodal  side,  and 
the  synods,  in 'which  the  nobles  had  special  rights,  were 
entirely  clerical. 

In  1689  the  Waldenses  introduced  Presbyterianism  of  a  Wal- 
peculiar  type.  The  consistory  was  the  civil  authority  as  <!«'»'<•"• 
well  as  the  church  authority.  For  choice  of  elders  each 
urban  district  chose  three  laymen,  from  whom  the  consis- 
tory chose  the  district  elders  for  supervision  of  manners 
and  of  the  poor.  The  consistory  itself  was  subject  to  a 
church  council,  consisting  of  three  spiritual  and  two  lay 
members,  which  had  supremo  authority,  especially  when  no 
synod  was  sitting.  Synods  were  called  by  consent  of  the 
congregations  and  of  the  king.  Two  laymen  were  present 
for  each  ecclesiastic.  (o.  a.) 

United  States. 

Presbyterianism  in  the  United  States  is  a  reproduction 
and  further  development  of  Presbyterianism  in  Europe. 
It  differs  from  the  latter  in  that  the  various  types  produced 
in  Great  Britain  and  on  the  continent  of  Europe  combined 
to  produce  a  new  American  type. 

1.  The  Colonial  Period.— Ih^  earliest  Presbyterian 
emigration  consisted  of  FrencJj  Huguenots  under  the 
auspices  of  Admiral  Coligny,  led  by  Ribault  in  1562  to 
the  Carolinas  and  in  1665  to  Florida.  But  the  former 
enterprise  was  soon  abandoned,  and  the  colonists  of  the 
latter  were  massacred  by  the  Spaniards.  The  Huguenots 
also  settled  in  Nova  Scotia  in  1604  under  Do  Monts. 
The  later  Huguenot  colonists  mingled  with  the  Dutch 
in  New  York  and  with  the  British  Presbyterians  and 
Episcopalians  in  New  England  and  the  Carolinas.  A 
Huguenot  church  was  formed  on  Staten  Island,  New  York, 
in  i665  ;  in  New  York  city  in  1683  ;  at  Charleston,  South 
Carolina,  in  1686;  at  Boston,  Massachusetts,  in  1687;  at 
New  Rochelle,  New  York,  in  1688;  and  at  other  places 


698 


PRESBYTERIAN  ISM 


[united  states. 


The  Charleston  church  alone  maintains  its  independence 
at  present. 

English  Puritanism  emigrated  under  the  auspices  of  the 
Virginia  Company  to  the  Bermudas  in  1612.  In  1617  a 
Presbyterian  church,  governed  by  ministers  and  four  elders, 
was  established  by  Lewis  Hughes,  and  the  liturgy  of  the 
isles  of  Guernsey  and  Jersey  -was  used.  From  1620  on- 
wards English  Puritanism  colonized  New  England.  This 
was  of  the  two  types  which  developed  from  the  discussions 
of  the  Westminster  Assembly  (1643-48)  into  Presbyterian- 
ism  and  Congregationalism.  They  co-operated  in  New 
England  as  they  did  in  Old  England  in  the  county  associa- 
tions. The  Plymouth  colony  was  more  of  the  Congrega- 
tional type,  the  Massachusetts  Bay  colony  more  of  the 
Presbyterian  type.  A  mixed  system  was  produced  which 
has  been  happily  called  by  Henry  M.  Dexter  "a  Congre- 
gationalized  Presbyterianism  or  a  Presbyterianized  Congre- 
gationalism .  ,  .  which  was  essentially  Genevan  within 
the  local  congregation  and  essentially  other  outside  of  it." 
Presbyterianism  was  stronger  in  Connecticut  than  in  Massa- 
chusetts. Thence  it  crossed  the  borders  into  the  Dutch 
settlements  on  the  Hudson  and  the  Delaware,  and  mingled 
"with  other  elements  in  Virginia,  Maryland,  and  the  Caro- 
linas.  Nine  of  these  Puritan  Presbyteri&n  churches  were 
established  on  Long  Island,  New  York,  from  1641  to  1670, 
and  three  in  Westchester  county.  New  York,  from  1677 
to  1685.  In  New  York  city  Francis  Doughty  in  1643 
ministered  to  a  congregation  of  Riritan  Presbyterians,  and 
was  succeeded  by  Kichard  Denton  in  1650.  Francis 
Doughty  also  preached  in  Virginia  and  Maryland  from 
1650  to  1659,  and  was  followed  by  Matthew  Hill  in  1667 
and  others  subsequently.  Francis  Doughty  was  the  father 
of  British  Presbyterianism  in  the  middle  colonies,  but  he 
left  it  in  an  Unorganized  condition. 

Dutch  Presbyterianism  was  planted  in  New  Amsterdam, 
New  York,  in  1628,  when  the  first  Reformed  Dutch  church 
was  organized  by  Jonas  Michaelius  with  two  elders  and 
fifty  communicants.  This  had  a  strong  Huguenot  and 
Walloon  representation.  Services  were  held  in  the  Dutch 
and  the  French  languages,  and  subsequently  in  the  English 
language  also.  The  Dutch  churches  spread  along  the 
valleys  of  the  Hudson,  the  Mohawk,  the  Raritan,  and  the 
Passaic,  and  also  on  the  Delaware.  They  continued  in  subor- 
dination to  the  classis  of  Amsterdam,  Holland,  imtil  1747. 

Irish  Presbyterianism  was  carHed  to  America  by  an  un- 
known Irish  minister  in  1668,  by  WiUiam  Traill  in  1683, 
and  especially  by  Francis  Makemie  in  the  same  year,  an 
ordained  missionary  of  the  presbytery  of  Laggan,  who  was 
invited  to  minister  to  the  Maryland  and  Virginia  Presby- 
terians. He  was  a  merchant  and  a  man  of  ■  executive 
ability,  and  was  the  chief  instrument  in  establishing  the 
presbytery  of  Philadelphia,  and  interesting  the  Presby- 
terians of  London,  Dublin,  and  Glasgow  in  the  feeble  state 
of  their  church  in  America.  In  1704  he  obtained  aid  from 
the  London  ministers  and  returned  to  America  with  two 
ordained  missionaries,  John  Hampton  (Irish)  and  George 
Macnish  (Scotch). 

Meanwhile  the  New  England  ministers  had  sent  several 
missionaries  to  the  banks  of  the  Delaware :  Benjimia 
Woodbridge  and  Jedidiah  Andrews  went  to  Philadelphia 
in  1698-1700;  John  Wilson  became  pastor  of  a  Presby- 
terian church  at  Newcastle,  Delaware,. in  1G98;  Samuel 
Davis  and  Nathaniel  Taylor  supplied  other  churches  in 
the  vicinity.  Seven  of  these  ministers  organized  the 
presbytery  of  Philadelphia  in  1706.  It  was  a  meeting 
of  members  f oi;  ministerial  exercise  "  to  consult  the  most 
proper  measxires  for  advancing  religion  and  propagating 
Christianity."  The  presbytery  only  gradually  learned  to 
exercise  oversight  over  the  churches.  The  ministers  con- 
sitituting  it  were  from  many  lands  and  of  many  types  of 


Presbyterianism,  and  could  agree  only  in  a  loosely  organ- 
ized body.  During  the  existence  of  the  original  presbytery 
the  chief  sources  of  support  were  London,  Glasgow,  and 
Dublin  in  the  United  Kingdom,  and  Boston,  Massachusetts, 
and  Fairfield  county,  Connecticut,  in  New  England.  Its 
Presbyterianism  was  of  the  broad,  tolerant  type  that  we 

i  might  expect  from  a  happy  union  of  English,  Irish,  Scottish, 
and  Welsh  Presbyterians,  with  a  few  Dutch,  Germany,  and 
French.  In  1716  the  presbytery  divided  itself  into  four 
"subordinate  meetings,  or  presbyteries,"  after  the  Irish 
model,  and  increased  its  number  by  a  large  accession  of 
Puritan  churches  and  ministers  from  eastern  New  Jersey 
and  New  York. 

The  synod  remained  without  a  constitution  and  without 
subscription  until  1729.  It  assumed  the  functions  of 
Presbyterian  government  and  discipline  only  gradually,  as 
circumstances  required.  It  developed  naturally  from  its 
own  inherent  vitality,  and  adapted  itself  to  the  circum- 
stances of  the  New  World  without  anxiety  as  to  its  con- 
formity to  stereotyped  models  in  the  Old  World.  How- 
ever, two  parties  developed  with  the  growth  of  the  church. 
The  stricter  section  urged  the  adoption  of  the  Westminster 
standards  and  conformity  thereto ;  the  broader  party  were 
unwilling  to.  sacrifice  their  liberty.  The  former  followed 
the  model  of  the  Church  of  Scotland ;  the  liberal  party 
sympathized  with  the  London  and  Dublin  Presbyterians. 
The  result  of  the  conflict  was  union  under  the  Act  of  1729, 
which  adopted  the  Westminster  symbols  "  as  being,  in  all 
the  essential  and  necessary  articles,  good  forms  of  sound 
words  and  systems  of  Christian  doctrine."  It  allowed 
scruples  as  to  "articles  not  essential  and  necessary  in 
doctrine,  worship,  or  govenunent."  The  presbytery  was 
to  judge  in  the  case  and  not  the  subscriber.  This  Adopt- 
ing Act  (largely  influenced  by  the  Irish  pacific  articles  of 
1720)  established  the  American  Presbyterian  Church  on  a 
broad  generous  basis ;  but  the  happy  union  was  brief.  In 
1730  the  stricter  party  in  the  presbyteries  of  Newcastle 
and  Donegal  insisted  on  fuU  subscription,  and  in  1736,  in 
a  minority  synod,  carried  a  deliverance  interpreting  the 
Adopting  Act  according  to  their  own  views.  The  liberal 
men  paid  no  attention  to  it,  except  to  put  themselves  on 
guard  against  the  plotting  of  the  other  side.  Friction 
was  increased  by  a  contest  between  Gilbert  Tennent  and  his 
friends,  who  favoured  Whitefield  and  his  revival  measures, 
and  Piobert  Cross  and  his  friends,  who  opposed  them.  The 
Tennents  erected  the  Log  College  to  educate  candidates 
for  the  ministry ;  and  the  synod  passed  an  arbitrary  Act, 
aimed  at  the  Log  CoOege,  that  all  students  not  educated 
in  the  colleges  of  New  England  or  Great  Britain  should 
be  examined  by  a  committee  of  synod,  thus  depriving  the 
presbyteries  of  the  right  of  determining  in  the  case.  The 
presbj^ery  of  New  Brunswick  declined  to  yield,  and  the 
body  became  more  and  more  divided  in  sentiment.  The 
Cross  party  charged  the  Tennents  with  heresy  and  dis- 
order ;  the  Tennents  charged  their  opponents  with  un- 
godl'iiess  and  tyranny.  Passions  were  deeply  stirred  wheu 
the  synod  met  in  1741.  The  moderate  men  remained  away. 
The  Cross  party  brought  in  a  protestation  to  the  efi'ect 
that  the  Tennent  party  were  no  longer  membefs  of  the 
syncJ  ;  and  thus  the  synod  suddenly  broke  in  two.  The 
New  York  presbytery  declined  at  first  to  unite  with  either 
party,  and  endeavom-ed  to  bring  about  a  union,  but  in 
vain.  The  Tennent  party  were  found  at  length  to  be  more 
reasonable,  and  the  New  York  presbytery  combined  with 
them  in  establishing  the  synod  of  New  York,  which  was 
called  the  New  Side  in' contradistinction  to  the  synod  of 
Philadelphia,  which  was  called  the  Old  Side. 

During  the  separation  the  New  Side  established  Nassau 
Hall  at  Elizabethtown  in  1746,  and  the  Log  College  of  the 
Tennents  was  rcerged  into  it.     It  was  removed  to  Princeton 


WrrED  STATES.] 


PRESBYTERIAN  ISM 


699 


in  1755,  large  funds  being  received  from  England,  Ire- 
land, and  Scotland  in  its  aid.  Thus  the  Presbyterians  of 
Great  Britain  showed  their  sympathy  with  the  broad  and 
tolerant  Presbyterians  of  the  synod  of  New  York ;  and  the 
college  at  Princeton  was  based  upon  the  pledges  of  Davies 
and  Tennent  as  to  liberal  subscription  in  terms  of  the 
original  Adopting  Act.  The  Old  Side  adopted  the  academy 
at  New  London,  which  had  been  organized  by  Francis 
Alison  in  1741,  as  their  own.  Thus  each  side  gained  an 
important  institution  of  learning.  The  division  continued 
untU  1758.  During  this  period  the  synod  of  Philadelphia 
decreased  from  twenty-six  ministers  to  twenty-two,  whereas 
the  synod  of  New  York  increased  from  twenty  ta  seventy- 
two.  The  New  Side  reaped  all  the  fruits  of  the  wonderful 
revival  that  spread  over  the  colonies  under  the  influence 
of  WKitefield  and  his  successors.  The  barriers  to  union 
were  the  different  views  as  to  subscription  and  discipline, 
and  the  arbitrary  act  of  excision ;  but  they  were  after  a 
while  happily  removed,  and  the  Adopting  Act  was  re- 
«3tablished  in  its  original  breadth  as  the  foundation  of 
r-he  reunited  church.  The  reunion  was  signalized  by  the 
formation  of  the  presbytery  of  Hanover  in  Virginia.  The 
synod  increased  with  great  rapidity,  by  the  reception 
of  new  ministers,  new  churches,  and  also  entire  presby- 
teries, until  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution  and  the  close 
of  the  colonial  period,  when  the  synod  numbered  1 1  pres- 
byteries and  132  ministers. 

The  synod  of  New  York  and  Philadelphia  embraced  only 
a  portion  of  the  Presbyterian  ministers  of  the  middle  colo- 
nies. In  the  Carolinas  Presbyterianism  had  an  independent 
development.  There  was  a  considerable  Scottish  emigra- 
tion between  1684  and  1687.  William  Dunlop  ministered 
to  them  until  1688,  when  he  returned  to  become  principal 
of  the  university  of  Glasgow.  A  mixed  congregation  of. 
English  Puritans  and  Scottish  Presbyterians  was  organized 
at  Charleston  in  1690.  In  1710  there  were  five  churches, 
which  combined  to  form  the  presbytery  of  James  Island  in 
1722-23.  This  presbytery  went  through  the  same  struggle 
■with  reference  to  subscription  as  the  synod  of  Philadelphia, 
and  the  parties  separated  in  1731  into  subscribers  and 
non-subscribers. 

In  1718  Irish  Presbyterianism  from  Ulster  established 
itself  at  Londonderry  in  New  England.  The  church  at 
Londonderry  grew  into  a  presbytery  in  1726-29,  including 
the  Huguenot  church  of  Boston.  A  second  presbytery 
was  organized  at  Salem  in  lY45.  The  original  presbytery 
became  extinct  owing  to  internal  strife  in  1765  ;  but  the 
presbytery  of  Salem  grew  into  the  synod  of  New  England, 
31st  May  1775,  composed  of  three  presbyteries  and  sixteen 
ministers.  Besides  this  s)mod  the  presbytery  of  the  East- 
ward was  organized  at  Boothbay,  Maine,  in  1771  and  re- 
mained independent.  A  presbytery  of  the  Puritan  typo 
was  organized  at  Grafton,  Now  Hampshire,  and  continued 
from  1776  to  1796  independent  of  other  presbyteries. 

The  Scottish  Presbyterians  from  the  established  church 
combined  with  the  American  Presbyterian  Church,  but  the 
separating  churches  of  Scotland  organized  independent 
bodies.  The  Reformed  Presbyterian  Church  ("Cove- 
nanters") sent  Cuthbertson  in  1751  (or  1752);  ho  was 
joined  by  Lind  arid  Dobbin  from  the  Reformed  presbytery 
of  Ireland  in  1774,  and  they  organized  an  American  Re- 
formed presbytery.  The  Aiiti-Burgher  synod  sent  Alex- 
ander Gellally  and  Andrew  Arnot  in  1752,  and  they  or- 
ganized the  Associate  presbytery  of  Pennsylvania  in  1754  ; 
they  wore  joined  by  the  Scotch  Church  in  New  York  city 
in  1657,  a  split  from  the  American  Presbyterian  Church  ; 
they  had  grown  to  two  presbyteries  and  thirteen  ministers 
in  1776.  The  Burgher  synod  sent  Telfair  and  Clark  in 
1764  ;  the  latter  settled  at  Salem,  New  York  ;  they  united 
with  the  Associate  presbytery  of  Pennsylvania. 


Dutcn  Presbjrterianism  in  1747  formed  a  coetus  which 
grew  into  a  classis  in  1755  independent  of  the  classis  of 
Amsterdam.  A  minority  adhered  to  the  mother  classis 
and  organized  under  its  supervision  a  conference  which 
grew  into  an  assembly  in  1764.  In  1770  Queen's  (now 
Rutgers)  College  was  organized  at  New  Brunswick,  New 
Jersey.  A  union  of  the  two  parties  was  accomplished 
through  the  efforts  of  Dr  J.  H.  Livingston  in  1772,  and  a 
synod  of  five  ckssos  was  organized,  of  1 00  churches  and 
34  ministers.  At  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution  they 
numbered  44  ministers  and  105  churches. 

German  Presbyterians  began  to  emigrate  into  Pennsyl- 
vania in  1684,  but  not  in  large  numbers  imtil  1709, 
when  a  tide  of  emigration  set  in  from  the  Palatinate  and 
Switzerland.  These  attached  themselves  to  the  Dutch 
churches,  but,  where  such  did  not  exist,  they  org^'^'ied 
churches  of  their  own.  In  accordance  with  the  advice  of 
the  German  mother  churches,  in  1730  they  put  themselves 
under  the  care  of  the  classis  of  Amsterdam,  Holland.  In 
1747  the  German  chm-ches  organized  a  ccetus  under  the 
influence  of  Schlatter,  who  had  found  forty-six  churches 
scattered  over  a  wide  region  in  Pennsylvania,  but  only  four 
ordained  ministers.  He  acted  as  general  superintendent 
and  was  very  eflBcient  He  sought  aid  from  all  quarters,  bat 
this  excited  internal  jealousies  and  controversies.  At  the 
outbreak  of  the  Revolution  it  is  estimated  that  the  German 
churches  numbered  twenty-five  ministers  andsixty  churches. 

The  classis  of  Amsterdam  had  a  magnificent  opportunity 
at  the  opening  of  the  18th  century.  The  Dutch,  German, 
and  French  churches  in  America  were  under  its  care.  If 
it  had  organized  them  into  classes  and  a  synod  at  an  early 
date  the  Reformed  Church  of  America  would  have  been 
the  strongest  Presbyterian  body  in  the  country,  but  by 
keeping  them  in  pupilage  it  separated  the'various  nation- 
alities and  prevented  closer  union  vrith  British  Presby- 
terians. The  strength  of  Presbyterianism  in  the  colonies 
which  became  the  United  States  of  America  may  be  esti- 
mated at  the  close  of  the  period  as  3  synods,  20  presby- 
teries, 5  classes,  1  ccetus,  and  260  ministers.  The  sjmod 
of  New  York  and  Philadelphia  was  a  trifle  stronger  than 
aU  the  others  combined. 

2.  Fiom  tlve  Revolution  to  the  Civil  War. — During  the 
war  of  the  Revolution  the  Presbyterian  churches  suffered 
severely.  The  ministers  and  people,  with  scarcely  an  ex- 
ception, entered  upon  the  struggle  for  constitutional  liberty 
with  all  their  souls.  The  Presbyterian  Church  was  the 
church  of  constitutional  government  and  orderly  liberty. 
The  Presbyterians  exerted  great  influence  in  the  con- 
struction of  the  constitution  of  the  United  States,  and  the 
government  of  the  church  was  assimilated  in  no  slight 
degree  to  the  civil  government  of  the  country. 

At  the  close  of  the  war  the  Presbyterian  bodies  began 
at  once  to  reconstruct  themselves  on  more  solid  bases.  In 
1782  the  presbyteries  of  the  Associate  and  Reformed 
Churches  united  and  formed  the  Associate  Reformed  synod 
of  North  America.  But  tlicro  were  a  few  dissenters  in 
both  bodies,  so  that  the  older  Associate  and  Reformed 
presbyteries  were  still  continued.  The  Associate  presby- 
tery of  two  members,  Marshall  and  Clarkson,  continued 
to  exist  until  1801,  when  it  was  subdivided  end- became 
the  Associate  synod  of  North  America.  In  1798  the  Re- 
formed presbytery  of  North  America  was  reconstituted  by 
M'Kenney  and  Gibson  from  Ireland  ;  it  grew  into  a  synod 
of  throe  presbyteries  in  1809,  and  in  1823  into  a  general 
synod.  In  1781  the  Dutch  Reformed  organized  them- 
selves into  a  synod  and  classes.  In  1784  they  founded  o 
theological  seminary,  which  was  settled  at  New  Brunswick, 
and  in  1792  adopted  a  constitution  with  general  synod, 
particular  synods,  and  classes.  In  1792  the  Gorman  Re- 
formed declared  themselves  independent  of  the  classis  of 


700 


PRESBYTERIANJSM 


[united  states. 


Amsterdam,  and  adopted  a  constitution  in  1793  having 
150  churches  and  22  ministers. 

In  1785  the  synod  of  New  York  and  Philadelphia  took 
steps  for  the  organization  of  a  general  assembly  and  also 
with  a  view  to  the  union  of  all  the  Presbyterian  bodies 
into  one.  In  1789  the  synod  resolved  itself  into  a  general 
assembly  of  four  synods,  which,  after  revising  the  chapters 
relating  to  church  and  state,  adopted  the  Westminster 
symbols  as  their  constitution,  "  as  containing  the  system  of 
doctrine  taught  in  the  Holy  Scriptures,"  and  they  made 
them  unalterable  without  the  consent  of  two-thirds  of  the 
presbyteries  and  the  general  assembly.  In  1798  another 
eSbrt  was  made  for  union  with  the  Reformed  Dutch  and 
the  Associate  Reformed,  which  failed.  Three  years  after- 
wards a  plan  of  union  with  the  general  association  of  Con- 
necticut was  agreed  upon  by  the  general  assembly,  and 
the  work  of  home  missions  in  the  western  section  of  the 
country  was  prosecuted  jointly.  The  result  was  mixed 
churches  in  western  New  York  and  the  new  States  west  of 
the  Alleghany  Mountains,  which  grew  into  presbyteries 
and  synods  having  peculiar  features  midway  between  Pres- 
byterianism  and  Congregationalism. 

The  revivals  in  Kentucky  brought  about  differences 
which  resulted  in  the  high-handed  exclusion  of  the  re- 
00^%--  vivalists.  These  formed  themselves  into  the  presbytery 
Und  •  of  Cumberland,  4th  February  1810,  which  grew  in  three 
^•«sby-  yg^fg  jjj^Q  ^  synod  of  three-presbyteries.  In  1813  they 
-^  revised  the  Westminster  confession  and  excluded,  as  they 
claimed,  fatalism  and  infant  damnation.  If  they  had 
appealed  to  the  general  assembly  they  might  have  received 
justice,  or  possibly  the  separation  might  have  been  on  a 
larger  scale.  In  1822,  under  the  influence  of  John  M. 
Mason,  the  Associate  Reformed  synod  combined  with  the 
general  assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  but  the 
majority  was  too  slender  to  make  the  union  thorough.  The 
greater  part,  of  the  ministers  decided  to  remain  separate, 
and  accordingly  three  independent  synods  were  organized 
— New  York,  Scioto,  and  the  Carolinas.  In  1858  the 
Associate  synods  of  the  north  and  west  united  with  the 
Associate  synod  as  the  United  Presbyterian  Church.  In 
1833  the  Reformed  Presbyterian  Church  divided  into  New 
Lights  and  Old  Lights  in  a  dispute  as  to  the  propriety  of 
Covenanters  exercising  the  rights  of  citizenship  under  the 
constitution  of  the  United  States. 
Period  of  A  great  and  widespread  revival  marked  the  opening 
reyiTals^  years  of  the  century,  resulting  in  marvellous  increase  of 
zeal  an'l  numbers  in  the  churches.  New  measures  were 
adopted,  doctrines  were  adapted  to  the  times  and  occasions, 
and  ancient  disputes  were  revived  between  the  conserva- 
tive and  progressive  forces.  Theological  seminaries  hed 
been  organized  at  Princeton  in  1812,  at  Auburn  in  1820,  at 
Hampden  Sydney  in  1824,  Allegheny  in  1827,  Columbia 
in  1828,  Cincinnati  in  1829,  and  Union  Seminary,  New 
York,  in  183(3.  Differences  in  doctrine  as  well  as  polity 
and  discipline  became  more  and  more  prominent.  Puritan 
theology  had  developed  in  New  England  into  Edwardism 
and  then  into  Hopkinsianism,  Emmonsism,  and  Taylorism. 
A  new  theology  had  sprung  up  which  was  held  to  be  an 
improvement  and  adaptation  of  Calvinism  to  modern 
thought.  This  new  theology  had  entered  the  Presbyterian 
Church  in  the  form  of  a  milder  Calvinism,  which  was 
represented  to  be  more  in  accordance  with  the  original 
type.  On  the  other  side  the  scholastic  type  of  Calvinism, 
as  represented  by  Frangois  Tiirretin  and  the,  Zurich 
Consensus,  was  insisted  on  as  the  true  orthodoxy.  The 
doctrinal  differences  came  to  a  head  in  the  trials  of  Albert 
Barnes,  George  Duffield,  and  Lyman  Beecher,  which,  how- 
ever, resulted  in  the  acquittal  of  the  divines,  but  increased 
friction  and  ill-feeling.  The  differences  developed  were 
chiefly  between  general  atonement  and  atonement  for  the 


elect  only  and  between  mediate  imputation  and  immediate 
imputation.  But  there  was  a  middle  party  which  regarded 
these  differences  as  forced,  and  held  that  the  rival  views 
were  alike  inadequate  if  taken  alone  and  that  they  were 
really  complementary. 

The  agitation  with  reference  to  African  slavery  threw  old  u 
the  bulk  of  the  Southern  Presbyterians  on  the  Old  Side,  New 
which  was  further  strengthened  by  the  accession  of  the^'***  B 
Associate  Reformed.  The  ancient  differences  between 
Old  and  New  Side  were  revived,  and  once  more  it  was 
urged  that  there  should  be  (1)  strict  subscription,  (2)  ex- 
clusion of  the  Congregationalized  churches,  and  strict 
Presbyterian  polity  and  discipline,  (3)  the  condemnation 
and  exclusion  of  the  new  divinity  and  the  maintenance  of 
scholastic  orthodoxy.  In  1834  a  convention  of  the  Old" 
Side  was  held  in  Philadelphia,  and  the  "Act  and  Testi- 
mony "  was  adopted  charging  doctrinal  unsoundness  and 
neglect  of  discipline  upon  the  New  Side,  and  urging  that 
these  should  be  excluded  from  the  church.  The  moderate 
men  on  both  sides  opposed  this  action  and  strove  for  peace 
or  an  amicable  separation,  but  in  vain.  In  1837  the  Old 
Side  obtained  the  majority  in  the  general  assembly  for  the 
second  time  only  in  seven  years.  They  seized  their  oppor- 
tunity and  abrogated  the  "  Plan  of  Union,"  cut  off  the 
synod  of  Western  Reserve  and  then  the  synods  of  Utica, 
Geneva,  and  Genesee,  four  entire  synods,  without  a  trial, 
and  dissolved  the  third  presbytery  of  Philadelphia  without 
providing  for  the  standing  of  its  ministers.  This  revolu- 
tionary proceeding  brought  about  the  second  great  rupture 
in  the  Presbyterian  Church.  The  New  Side  men  met 
in  convention  at  Auburn  in  August  1837  and  adopted 
measures  for  resisting  the  wrong.  In  the  general  assembly 
of  1838  the  moderator  refused  to  recogni2e  the  commis- 
sioners of  the  four  exscinded  synods.  An  appeal  was 
made  to  the  assembly  and  the  moderator's  decision  reversed. 
A  new  moderator  was  chosen,  while  the  assembly  adjourned 
to  another  place  of  meeting.  The  Old  Side  remained 
after  the  adjournment  and  organized  themselves,  claiming 
the  historic  succession.  Having  the  moderator  and  clerks 
from  the  assembly  of  1837,  thej'  retained  the  books  and 
papers.  Thus  two  general  assemblies  were  organized,  the 
Old  and  the  New  School.  An  appeal  was  made  to  the  civil 
courts,  which  decided  in  favour  of  the  New  School ;  but 
this  decision  was  overruled  on  a  technical  point  of  law  by 
the  court  in  bank  and  a  new  trial  ordered.  It  was  deemed 
best,  however,  to  cease  litigation  and  to  leave  matters  as. 
they  were. 

Several  years  of  confusion  followed.     In  1840  we  have 
the  first  safe  basis  for  comparison  of  strength. 


Ministers. 

Churches. 

Communicanta. 

Old  Side    ... 
New  Side  ... 

1308 
1234 

1898 
1375 

126,583 
102,060 

The  churches  remained  separate  throughout  the  i&- 
mainder  of  this  period.  The  North  was  especially  agitated 
by  the  slavery  question,  and  the  anti-slavery  element  be- 
came so  strong  that  the  Southern  synods  of  the  New 
School  assembly  felt  constrained  to  withdraw  in  1858. 
They  organized  the  L^nited  Synod  of  4  synods,  15  presby- 
teries, 113  ministers,  197  churches,  10,205  communicants.' 
Just  before  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War  in  1861  these 
churches  numbered  : — 


Synods. 

Presby. 
teries. 

Ministers. 

Churches. 

T 

Communicaats. 

Old  Side 

New  Side    ... 
United  Synod 
Cumberland 
Presbyterian 

33 

22 

4 

23 

171 

104 

15 

98 

2656 

1523 

113 

890 

3531 

1482 
197 

1189 

292,927  (1860) 

134,933  (I860) 

10,205  (18581 

82,008  (1859) 

i 


UNITED  STATES.] 


PEESBYTERIANISM 


701 


The  several  branches  of  the  Scottish  separating  churches 
continued  to  grow  independently  until  the  year  1858, 
when  the  United  Presbyterian  Church  was  formed  by  a 
union  of  three  synods,— one  of  the'Associate  and  two  of 
the  Associate  Reformed  Churches. 


Presby. 
teries. 

MiQisters. 

ChurcheB. 

Communi- 
cants. 

Theological 
Seminaries. 

Associate   

Associate  Rd'orm- 
ed  (4  synods) 

2X 

28 

197 
225 

293 
383 

23,505 
32,118 

1 
3 

5  Synods 

49 

422 

676 

65,623 

4 

The  Dutch  Reformed  increased,  though  not  without 
slight  internal  struggles;  in  1822  there  was  a  secession 
of  thirteen  ministers.  The  name  "  Dutch  "  was  dropped 
in  1867  because  it  was  found  hurtful  to  the  progress  of 
the  denomination.  At  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War  they 
numbered  1  general  synod,  3  particular  synods,  31  classes, 
387  ministers,  370  churches,  50,427  communicants. 

The  German  Reformed  in  1816  improved  their  organi- 
zation. In  1819  the  constitution  was  revised  and  the 
church  divided  into  synods  and  classes.  In  1824  they 
were  divided  into  two  independent  synods.  In  the  next 
year  they  established  a  theological  seminary  at  Carlisle, 
which  was  removed  to  Mercersburg,  and  finally  to  Lan- 
caster (all  in  Pennsylvania).  This  institution  became  the 
centre  of  the  liturgical  party  in  the  church.  The  Ohio 
synod  estaljlished  Heidelberg  College  in  1850.  At  the 
outbreak  of  the  Civil  War  this  denomination  numbered  2 
synods,  24  classes,  391  ministers,  1045  churches,  92,684 
*)mii-am'cants. 

In  18i6  the  first  Calvinistic  Methodist  Church  in 
_Asmvica,  was  organized  in  Oneida  county.  New  York,  and 
a  presbytery  was  constituted  a  few  years  afterwards. 
This  little  denomination,  which  is  in  entire  sympathy 
with  other  Presbyterian  bodies,  is  composed  almost  ex- 
clusively of  Welshmen,  who  have  settled  in  communities 
by  themselves. 

3.  From  the  Civil  War  to  1885. — The  Civil  War  in 
separating  the  people  of  the  North  from  the  people  of 
the  South  also  brought  about  a  separation  of  churches. 
Buine  of  the  breaches  have  been  healed,  others  remain 
u.itil  now. 

In  1861  the  Southern  section  of  the  Presbyterian  Church 
•withdrew-  from  the  Northern  and  organized  the  general 
assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  Confederate 
States  of  America,  with  11  synods,  47  presbyteries,  about 
700  ministers,  1000  churches,  and  75,000  communicants. 
In  1865  this  body  united  with  the  United  Synod  of  the 
South,  and  increased  its  strength  by  120  ministers,  190 
churches,  and  12,000  communicants.  After  the  close  of 
the  war  the  name  of  the  denomination  was  changed  to 
"  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  United  States."  In 
1867  this  church  was  joined  by  the  presbytery  of  Patapsco, 
in  1869  by  the  synod  of  Kentucky,  and  in  1874  by  the 
synod  of  Missouri,  all  of  which  had  separated  from  the 
Northern  church. 

The  war  also  united  the  Northern  churches  more  closely 
together,  and  there  was  an  increasing  desire  for  organic 
uriion.  An  effort  was  made  to  combine  all  the  Presby 
terian  bodies  of  the  North  in  1867,  but  in  vain.  In 
1869,  however,  the  Old  and  New  School  churches  of  the 
North  combined  on  the  basis  of  the  common  standards.  "A 
memorial  fund  of  $7,883,983  was  raised,  and  the  church 
entered  with  renewed  strength  upon  a  fresh  career  of  use- 
fulness. An  effort  to  unite  the  Dutch  and  German  Re- 
formed Churches  failed,  as  also  the  effort  to  combine  the 
Presbyterian  Churches  of  the  North  and  the  South.  The 
German  Reformed  synods  in  1863  united  in  a  general 


synod  with  26  classes,  447  ministers,  and  98,775  com- 
municants. Ursinus  College  was  founded  by  it  in  1869. 
All  branches  of  Presbyterians  have  increased  with  the 
growth  of  the  United  States.  The  present  strength  of 
the  churches  is  as  follows  : — 


11 

OS 

•«! 

•§     J- 

M  1       x> 

1 
'a 

5 

Communi- 
conts. 

Si 

Si 

Presbyterian  Chnrch  in  U.S.A. 
Piesliyterian  Church  in  U.S.  .. 
Cumberland  Presbyt  'rian  Ch. 
United  Presbyterian  Church  .. 
Reformed  Presbyterian  Church, 

N.A 

Reformed  Presbyterian  Church, 

U.S.A 

Associated   Reformed  Church 

of  the  South. 

1 
1 
1 
1 

23 
13 
27 
9 

1 

1 

1 

4 
7 
6 

182 

67 
116 

60 

6 

11 

8 

34^ 
522 
16 

5,218 

1,070 

7,439 

730 

37 

112 

T9 
569 
783 

84 

5,858 

2,040 

2,391 

839 

48 

124 

72 

516 

1,405 

175 

600,695 
127,017 
130,000 
85,443 

'6,700 

10,625 

6,648 

80,156 

169,530 

9.563 

12 

i 

3 

1 

1 
1 

3 

Reformed  Church  in  America 
Reformed  Chnrch  in  U.S.A.    .. 
Calvinistic  Methodist   .* 

11 
U 

1 

Totals 

92  1  562 

10,121 

13,728 

1,226,377  1  20  1 

The  American  Presbyterian  churches  have  always  been 
marked  by  a  zeal  for  missions.  John  Eliot,  the  apostla 
to  the  Indians  in  New  England,  was  a  Puritan  Presby- 
terian. The  synod  of  New  York  carried  on  mission  work 
among  the  Indians  through  David  Brainerd  and  others, 
with  the  help  of  the  Society  in  Scotland  for  the  Promotion 
of  Christian  Knowledge.  The  Presbyterian  churches 
generally  co-operated  with  the  Congregationalists  in  the 
work  of  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign 
Missions,  established  in  1710,  until  1832,  when  the  Re- 
formed Church  in  America  set  the  example  of  organizing 
a  denominational  board.  Each  denomination  now  has  its 
board  of  missions.  The  summary  of  missionary  operations, 
as  reported  to  the  council  of  the  Reformed  churches  hold- 
ing the  Presbyterian  system  which  met  at  Belfast  in  June 
1884,  was  230  ordained  missionaries,  25  male  lay  agents, 
and  359  female,  all  sent  out  by  the  societies.  These 
were  aided  by  138  ordained  converts  and  1115  other 
agents  from  among  the  converts,  and  there  was  a  total  of 
25,235  communicants  and  29,060  day-school  pupils.  The 
work  of  home  missions  is  equally  extensive,  and  is  especi- 
ally important  in  the  United  States,  where  the  church 
has  to  attend  to  the  wants  of  an  immense  population 
constantly  flowing  from  Europe,  and  the  natural  increase 
of  population  in  the  country  itself  also  enlarges  the  older 
towns  and  States  and  creates  new  ones  with  astonishing 
rapidity. 

The  tendency  of  Presbytericnism  in  the  United  States 
is  to  adapt  itself  to  the  circumstances  of  the  country.  The 
divisions  are  chiefly  the  result  of  differences  of  nationality, 
and  traditional  doctrines  and  modes  of  worsliip  brought 
by  the  immigrants  from  the  countries  of  Europe.  These 
are  gradually  wearing  off,  and  the  churches  are  assimilat- 
ing themselves  to  the  country  and  its  institutions,  and 
thus  are  grooving  closer  together.  Wo  may  expect  at  no 
very  distant  date  a  combination  of  them  all  into  ono 
organism. 

Tho  chief  authorities  for  tlio  study  of  American  Presbyterianiara 
are — Cliarlcs  Hodge,  ConslilutionaX  Uislory  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church  in  the  United  States  of  America,  1706 -'nSS  {2  vols.,  Pliil- 
adclphia,  1840)  ;  Records  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  U.S.A. 
from  170G  to  17SS  (Philadcliihia,  1841) ;  Richard  Webster,  I/istonj 
of  the  Preshylc.rian  Church  in  America  (I'hiladclpliia,  1857) ;  K.  H. 
Cillett,  History  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  U.S.A.  (2d  ed., 
Pliiliiilcliihia,  1873) ;  Presbyterian  Reunion  (N.-w  York,  1870) ;  E. 
B.  Ciismun,  Origin  and  Doctrints  of  the  Cumberland  Presbyterian 
Church  (St  Louis,  1877) ;  E.  T.  Corwin,  Manual  of  the  Reformed 
Church  in  America  (Now  York,  3d  cd.,  1879) ;  Peformatimi  Prin- 
ci]iles  (Pliiladel[iliia,  revised  cd.,  1803);  C.  A.  Brigfp,  Aimricai>, 
Presbyterianisrn,  New  York,  1885.  (C.  A.  BR) 


1  "General  Syno4s.' 


'  "Classes.' 


702 


P  R  E  — P  R  E 


PRESCOT,  a  market -town  of  Lancashire,  is  situated 
on  rising  ground  on  the  Liverpool  and  Wigan  branch  of 
the  London  and  North-Western  Eailway,  8  miles  east  of 
Liverpool  and  28  west  of  Manchester.  It  is  of  considerable 
antiquity,  and  received  a  grant  for  a  market  and  fair  in 
the  7th  year  of  Edward  III.  A  church  existed  in  the  13th 
century.  The  present  edifice,  in  various  styles,  with  a 
lofty  tower  and  spire  and  carved  timber  roof,  underwent 
extensive  restoration  in  1875-76.  Among  the  other  public 
buildings  are  the  town-hall  (1765)  and  the  market-hall 
(1859).  The  chief  industry  is  the  making  of  watch  hands 
and  wheels,  &c^  first  introduced  in  1730  by  John  Miller 
from  Yorkshire.  Coarse  earthenware  is  also  manufactured. 
The  population  of  the  urban  sanitary  district  (area,  268 
acres)  in  1871  was  5990,  and  in  1881  it  was  6419. 

PRESCOTT,  William  Hickling  (1796-1859),  his- 
torian, was  bom  in  Salem,  Massachusetts,  on  4th  May 
1796,  his  ancestors,  of  the  old  Puritan  stock,  having 
migrated  from  Lancashire  about  1640  and  established 
themselves  in  Middlesex  county,  Massachusetts.  He  re- 
ceived his  earlier  education  in  his  native  city  until  the 
removal  of  his  family  in  1808  to  Boston,  where  he  was 
placed  under  the  tuition  of  Dr  Gardiner,  a  pupil  of  Dr 
Parr.  His  schooldays  appear  to  have  been  in  the  main 
typical  rather  than  prophetic,  though  in  his  paission  for 
mimic  warfare  and  for  the  narration  of  original  stories 
some  indication  of  the  historical  bias  may  perhaps  be  dis- 
cerned. A  healthy  aversion  to  persistent  work,  which 
even  in  later  years  broke  at  times  through  his  rigorous 
system  of  self-discipline,  did  not  hinder  him  from  making 
a  good  if  somewhat  desultory  use  of  his  permission  to 
read  at  the  Boston  athenaeum, — an  exceptional  advantage 
at  a  time  when  the  best  books  were  by  no  means  readily 
accessible  in  any  part  of  the  United  States.  He  entered 
Harvard  College  in  the  autumn  of  1811,  therefore,  with 
a  fairly  thorough  mental  equipment,  but  almost  at  the 
outset  his  career  was  interrupted  by  an  accident  which 
affected  the  whole  subsequent  course  of  his  life.  A  hard 
piece  of  bread,  flung  at  random  in  the  Commons 'Hall, 
struck  his  left  eye  .with  such  forco  that  he  fell  to  the 
ground ;  and,  though  the  first  shock  speedily  passed,  the 
sight  was  irremediably  destroyed.  He  resumed  his  college 
work,  however,  with  success  in  classics  and  literature, 
though  he  abandoned  the  study  of  mathematics  as  one  in 
which  he  could  not  attain  even  an  average  proficiency. 
After  graduating  honourably  in  1814  ho  entered  his  father's 
office  as  a  student  of  law;  but  in  January  1815  the  un- 
injured eye  showed -dangerous  symptoms  of  inflammation, 
which  for  some  time  refused  to  yield  to  remedies.  When 
at  last  in  the  autumn  he  was  in  condition  to  travel,  it  was 
determined  that  he  should  pass  the  winter  at  St  Michael's 
and  in  the  spring  obtain  medical  advice  in  Europe.  His 
visit  to  the  Azores,  vvhich  was  consjiantly  broken  by  con- 
finement to  a  darkened  room,  is  chiefly  noteworthy  from 
the  fact  that  he  there  began  the  mental  discipline  which 
enabled  him  to  compose  and  retain  in  memory  long  pass- 
ages for  subsequent  dictation ;  and,  apart  from  the  gain 
in  culture,  his  journey  to  England,  France,  and  Italy  (April 
1816  to  July  1817)  was  scarcely  more  satisfactory.  "The 
verdict  of  the  physicians  consulted  by  him  was  that  the 
injured  eye  w-as  hopelessly  paralysed,  and  that  the  pre- 
servation of  the  sight  of  the  other  depended  upon  the 
maintenance  of  his  general  health.  His  further  pursuit  of 
the  legal  profession  seemed  out  of  the  question,  and  on  his 
return  to  Boston  he  remained  quietly  at  home  listening  to' 
a  great  deal  of  reading,  but  with  no  fixed  object  in  view. 
On  4th  May  1820  he  was  married  to  Miss  Susan  Amory. 
Prior  to  his  marriage  he  had  made  a  few  experiments  in 
composition  which  had  obtained  no  further  publicity  than 
that  of  his  own  circle  of  friends,  but  he  now  finally  decided 


to  devote  his  life  to  literature.  It  must  be  admitted  that 
he  had  not  hitherto  displayed  any  remarkable  aptitude ; 
but  having  once  determined  his  future  occupation  he  set 
himself  strenuously  to  the  task  of  self-preparation.  With 
almost  amusing  thoroughness  he  commenced  the  study  of 
Murray's  Grammar,  the  prefatory  matter  of  Johnson's 
Dictionary,  and  Blair's  Rhetoiic,  reading  at  the  same  time 
for  general  purposes  of  style  a  series  of  the  standard 
English  writers  from  the  period  of  Elizabeth  onwards.  A 
review  of  BjTon's  Letters  o»  Pope  in  1821  constituted  his 
first  contribution  to  the  North  American  Review,  to  which 
he  continued  for  many  years  to  send  the  results  of  his 
slighter  researches.  He  next  turned  to  French  literature, 
the  rvksomeness  with  which  he  regarded  his  studies  in  this 
subject  being  mitigated  by  incursions  into  the  early  Eng- 
lish drama  and  ballad  literature.  Of  the  direction  and 
quality  of  his  thought  at  this  time  he  has  left  indications 
in  his  papers  on  Essay-Writing  (1822)  and  on  French  and 
English  Tragedy  (1823).  In  pursuance  of  his  method  of 
successive  studies  he  began  in  1823  the  study  of  Italian 
literature,  passing  over  German  as  demanding  more  labour 
than  he  could  afibrd ;  and  so  strongly  did  he  feel  the  fasci- 
nation of  the  language  that  for  some  time  he  thought  of 
selecting  it  as  his  chief  sphere  of  work.  In  the  following 
year,  however,  he  made  his  first  acquaintance  with  the 
literatui'e  of  Spain  under  the  influence  of  his  friend  and 
biographer,  Ticknor,  who  was  then  lecturing  upon  it ;  and, 
whUe  its  attractiveness  proved  greater  than  he  had  at  the 
outset  anticipated,  the  comparative  novelty  of  the  subject 
as  a  field  for  research  served  as  an  additional  stimulus. 

In  the  meantime  his  aims  had  been  gradually  concen- 
trating. History  had  always  been  a  favourite  study  with 
him,  and  Mably's  Observations  sur  VHistoire  appears  to 
have  had  considerable  influence  in  determining  him  to  the 
choice  of  some  special  period  for  historic  research.  The 
selection,  however,  was  not  finally  made  without  prolonged 
hesitation.  The  project  of  a  history  of  Italian  literature  held 
a  prominent  place  in  his  thought  and  found  some  tentative 
expression  in  his  article  on  Italian  Narrative  Poetry  (1824) 
and  in  the  reply  to  Da  Ponte's  criticism  (1825);  but  he  had 
also  in  contemplation  a  history  of  the  revolution  which 
converted  republican  Rome  into  a  monarchy,  a  series  of 
biographical  and  critical  sketches  of  eminent  men,  and  a 
Spanish  history  from  the  invasion  of  the  Arabs  to  the 
consolidation  of  the  monarchy  under  Charles  V.  It  was 
not  tOl  the  19th  of  January  1826  that  he  recorded  in  the 
private  memoranda  begun  by  him  in  1820  his  decision 
"  to  embrace  the  gift  of  the  Spanish  subject."  The  choice 
was  certainly  a  bold  one.  On  the  one  hand,  he  had  no 
great  liking  for,  if  he  had  not,  as  he  alleged,  an  absolute 
detestation  of  the  investigation  of  latent  and  barren  anti- 
quities, while,  on  the  other,  he  had  not  the  visual  powtT 
which  others  besides  Milton-  have  deemed  indispensable  to 
an  historian.  The  first  he  might  and  did  overcome,  but 
the  second  seemed  likely  to  prove  a  permanent  disqualifi- 
cation. He  could  only  use  the  eye  which  remained  to 
him  for  brief  and  intermittent  periods,  and  as  travelling 
affected  his  sight  prejudicially  he  could  not  anticipate  any 
personal  research  amongst  unpublished  records  and  historic 
scenes.  He  was  happy,  however,  in  the  possession  both 
of  ample  means  and  admirable  friends  to  supply  so  far  as 
might  be  the  necessary  materials,'  and  of  a  wide  leisure  in 
which  to  give  them  literary  shape  and  polish ;  and  he 
sketched  with  no  undue  restriction  or  hesitancy  the  plan 
of  the  Histm-y  of  the  Reign  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella — his 
first  great  work.  Mr  English,  one  of  his  secretaries,  has 
furnished  a  picture  of  him  at  this  period  seated  in  a  study 
lined  on 'two  sides  with  books  and  darkened  by  green 
screens  and  curtains  of  blue  muslin,  which  required  read- 
justment with  almost  every  cloud  that  passed  across  the 


FRESCO TT 


703 


sky.  His  ^vriting  apparatus — a  noctograph — lay  before 
him,  and  he  kept  his  ivory  style  in  his  hand  to  jot  down 
notes  as  the  reading  progressed.  In  accordance  with  his 
general  method  these  notes  were  in  turn  read  over  to  him 
until  -he  had  completely  mastered  them,  when  they  were 
worked  up  in  his  memory  to  their  final  shape.  So  pro- 
ficient did  he  become  that  he  was  able  to  retain  the  equiva- 
lent of  sixty  pages  of  printed  matter  in  his  memory,  turn- 
ing and  returning  them  as  he  walked  or  drove.  The  rate 
of  progress  in  preparation  was  therefore  necessarily  slow, 
apart  from  any  liability  to  interruption  by  other  under- 
takings and  failures  in  bodily  health.  He  still  continued 
his  yearly  experimental  contributions  to  the  North  Ameri- 
can Review,  elaborating  them  with  a  view  as  much  to 
ultimate  historical  proficiency  as  to  immediate  literary 
effect,  the  essays  on  Scottish  Song  (1826),  Novel-Writing 
(1827),  Moliere  (1828),  and  Irving's  Granada  (1829) 
belonging  to  this  preparatory  period.  The  death  of  his 
eldest  daughter  in  1828  also  led  him  aside  to  the  study — 
afterwards  renewed  in  the  interval  between  the  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella  and  the  Conquest  of  Mexico — of  Christian 
evidences,  ■with  the  result  that  he  convinced  himself  of  the 
fundamental  truth  of  Christianity,  though  he  did  not 
accept  all  the  tenets  of  orthodoxy.  On  the  6th  of  October 
h829  he  began  the  actual  work  of  composition,  which  was 
continued  wthout  more  serious  interruptions  than  those 
occasioned  by  the  essays  on  Asylums  for  the  Blind  (1830), 
Poetry  and  Romance  of  the  Italians  (1831),  and  English 
Literature  of  the  19th  Century  (1832),  until  25th  June 
1836,  when  the  concluding  note  was  written.  Another  year, 
during  which  his  essay  on  Cervantes  appeared,  was  spent  in 
the  final  revision  of  the  History  for  the  press,  in  which  the 
author  was  ably  assisted  by  two  friends,  of  whom  Gardiner, 
the  son  of  his  old  schoolmaster,  criticized  the  style  and 
Folsom  verified  the  facts.  Its  success  upon  its  publica- 
tion in  Boston  was  immediate,  the  five  years'  contract 
being  discharged  in  a  few  months.-  Arrangements  were 
speedily  made  for  its  publication  in  England,  and  there  its 
success  was  not  less  marked.  From  the  position  of  an  ob- 
scure reviewer  Prescott  suddenly  found  himself  elevated  to 
the  first  rank  of  contemporary  historians.  Daniel  Webster- 
spoke  of  him  as  a  comet  which  had  suddenly  blazed  out 
upon  the  world  in  full  splendour,  and  American,  British, 
and  Continental  reviewers  were  equally  laudatory.  Its  re- 
ception determined  the  nature  of  all  hia  subsequent  work. 
Hitherto  he  had  still  inclined  towards  the  history  of 
literature  rather  than  to  that  of  polity  and  action,  on  the 
ground  that  the  former  was  more  consonant  with  his 
previous  studies  and  a  more  suitable  sphere  for  the  display 
of  his  special  powers.  A  close  examination  of  his  work 
in  the  department  of  literary  criticism  does  not,  however, 
bear  out  this  estimate  of  his  own  genius,  and  the  popular 
voice  in  approving  his  narrative  faculty  gave  him  the  re- 
quired impetus  in  the  right  direction.  After  coquetting 
for  a  short  time  with  the  project  of  a  life  of  Moliere  he 
decided  to  follow  in  the  track  of  his  first  work  with  a 
History  6/  the  Conquest  of  Mexico.  Washington  Irving, 
who  had  already  made  preparations  to  occupy  the  same 
field,  generously  withdrew  in  his  favour;  and  in  May 
1838  Prescott  began  his  first  reading  in  the  subject. 
The  work  was  completed  in  August  1843,  the  five  years' 
labour  having  been  broken  by  the  composition  of  reviews 
of  Lockhart's  Life  of  Scott  (1838),  Kenyon's  Poems  (1839V 
Chateaubriand  (1839),  Bancroft's  United  States  (1841), 
Mariotti's  It^tly  (1842),  and  Madame  Calderon's  Life  m 
Mexico  (1843),  and  by  the  preparation  of  an  abridgment  of 
his  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  in  anticipation  of  its  threatened 
abridgment  by  another  haad.  On  6th  December  1843 
the  Conquest  of  Mexico  was  published  with  a  success  pro- 
portionate to  the  wide  reputation  won  by  his  previous 


work,  the  contracted  number  being  sold  off  in  four  months 
and  London  and  Paris  editions  meeting  with  a  similar 
reception.  The  careful  methods  of  work  which  he  had 
adopted  from  the  outset  had  borne  admirable  fruit.  While 
the  consultation  of  authorities  had  been  no  less  thorough, 
his  style  had  become  more  free  and  less  self-conscious ; 
and  the  epic  qualities  of  the  theme  were  such  as  to  call 
forth  in  the  highest  degree  his  powers  of  picturesque  narra- 
tion. It  was  only  a  step  from  the  conquest  of  Mexico  to 
that  of  Peru,  and  scarcely  three  months  elapsed  before  he 
began  to  break  ground  on  the  latter  subject,  though  the 
actual  composition  was  not  commenced  until  the  autumn 
of  1844.  'While  the  work  was  in  progress  and  before  the 
close  of  the  year  his  father  died, — a  heavy  blow  to  him, 
inasmuch  as  the  elder  and  younger  members  of  the  family 
had  continued  to  share  the  same  home  upon  almost  patri- 
archal terms,  and  the  breach  was  therefore  in  a  chain  of 
constant  association  extending  over  a  period  of  forty-eight 
years.  In  February  1845  he  received  the  announcement 
of  his  election  as  corresponding  member  of  the  French 
Institute  in  place  of  the  Spanish  historian  Navarrete,  and 
also  of  the  Eoyal  Society  of  Berlin.  The  winter  found  him 
arranging  for  the  publication  in  England  of  the  selection 
from  his  articles  and  reviews  which  appeared  in  1845 
under  the  title  of  Ciiiical  jx7id  Historical  Essays,  and 
which  was  issued  almost  contemporaneously  at  New  York 
under  the  title  of  Biographical  and  Critical  Miscellanies. 
After  some  minor  interruptions — his  removal  from  the  old 
mansion-house  in  Bedford  Street  to  the  house  in  Beacon 
Street,  visits  to  friends,  and  a  renewed  failure  of  sight — 
the  Conquest  of  Peru  was  completed  in  November  1846 
and  published  in  March  following.  His  misgivings  as 
to  its  reception  were  at  once  set  at  rest,  and  it  waa 
speedily  issued  in  translations  into  French,  Spanish,  Ger- 
man, and  Dutch,  in  addition  to  the  English  editions  of 
New  York,  London,  and  Paris.  He  was  now  over  fifty 
and  his  sight  showed  serious  symptoms  of  enfeeblement. 
Although  during  the  composition  of  the  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella  it  had  been  of  very  intermittent  service  to  him, 
it  had  by  his.  careful  regimen  so  far  improved  that  he  could 
read  with  a  certain  amount  of  regularity  diuing  the  writing 
of  the  Conquest  of  Mexico,  and  also,  though  in  a  less  degree, 
during  the  years  devoted  to  the  Conquest-of  Peru.  Now, 
however,  the  use  of  his  remaining  eye  had  been  reduced  to 
an  hour  a  day,  divided  into  portions  at  wide  intervals,  and 
he  was  driven  to  the  conclusion  that  whatever  plans  he  made 
for  future  work  must  be  formed  on  the  same  calculations 
as  those  of  a  blind  man.  He  had  been  for  many  years 
collecting  materials  for  a  history  of  Philip  II.,  but  he  hesi 
tated  for  some  time  to  attempt  a  work  of  such  magnitude, 
occupying  himself  in  the  meantime  with  the  slighter 
labours  of  a  memoir  of  Mr  John  Pickering  for  the  Ma-ssa- 
chusetts  Historical  Society  and  the  revision  of  Ticknor's 
History  of  Spanish  Literature.  But  in  March  1848  he  set 
himself  with  characteristic  courage  to  the  accomplishment 
of  the  larger  project,  though  with  the  intention  of  writing 
memoirs  rather  tlian  a  history,  as  admitting  a  more  ram- 
bling style  and  less  elaborate  research.  He  had  been  for- 
tunate in  obtaining  the  aid  of  Doa  Pascual  de  Gayangos, 
then  professor  of  Arabic  literature  at  Madrid,  by  whoso 
offices  he  was  enabled  to  obtain  material  not  only  from  the 
public  archives  of  Spain  hut  from  the  muniment  rooms  of 
the  great  Spanish  families.  With  an  exceptional  range  of 
infcnnatiou  thus  afforded  him,  he  wrote  the  opening  of 
his  histo-y  at  Nahant,  his  summer  residence,  in  July  1849  ; 
but,  finding  himsolf  still  unsettled  in  his  work,  he  decided 
in  the  spring  of  the  following  year  to  carry  out  a  long 
projected  visit  to  England.  His  reception  there  was  of 
the  most.  lordial  and  gratifying  kind,  and  he  Titumed  rc- 
iuvigorated  to  his  work.     The  idea  of  writing  memoirs 


704 


P  R  E  — P  R  E 


was  dismissed  in  favour  of  the  more  elaborate  form,  and 
in  November  1855  the  first  two  volumes  of  his  uncom- 
pleted History  of  Philip  II.  were  issued  from  the  press, 
their  sale  eclipsing  that  of  any  of  his  earlier  books.  This 
was  his  last  great  undertaking;  but  as  Robertson's  Charles 
v.,  in  the  light  of  new  sources  of  information,  was  inade- 
quate to  take  its  place  as  a  link  in  the  series,  he  repub- 
lished it  in  an  improved  and  extended  form  in  December 
1856.  A  slight  attack  of  apoplexy  on  the  ith  of  February 
1858  foretold  the  end,  though  he  persevered  with  the 
preparation  of  the  third  volume  of  Phili})  II.  for  the  press, 
and  with  the  emendation  and  annotation  of  his  Conquest 
of  Mexico.  On  the  morning  of  the  27th  of  January  1859 
a  second  attack  occurred,  and  he  died  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  same  day  in  his  sixty-third  year. 

In  personal  character  Prescott  possessed  many  admuable  and 
amiable  qualities,  his  courageous  bearing  and  persistent  labour 
being  by  no  means  without  their  heroic  element,  though  tlie  greater 
portion  of  his  life  was  passed  with  his  friends  and  his  books.  A 
certain  habit  of  striving  to  be  habitual  is  cmiously  prominent  from 
his  boyhood  till  his  death,  the  desire  for  an  objective  stimulus 
finding  expression  in  numberless  formal  resolutions  and  in  frequent 
wagers  with  his  secretaries  or  friends.  Necessarily  a  valetudinarian, 
the  smallest  details  of  life  had  to  be  considered  by  him,  even  to 
the  adjustment  of  the  weight  of  his  dress  to  the  state  of  the  weather 
and  the  thermometer.  Yet  the  formalism,  whether  voluntary  or 
enforced,  was  never  obtrusive,  and  the  final  impression  made  upon 
his  contemporaries  was  tbat-of  a  frank,  spontaneous,  and  thorouglily 
manly  life.  As  an  historian  he  stands  in  the  direct  line  of  literary 
descent  from  Robertson,  whose  influence  is  clearly  discernible  both 
in  his  method  and  style.  But,  wliile  Robertson  was  in  some  measure 
the  initiator  of  a  movement,  Prescott  came  to  his  task  when  the 
range  of  information  was  incomparably  wider  and  when  progress 
in  sociologie  theory  had  thrown  innumerable  convergent  lights 
upon  the  progress  of  events.  He  worked,  therefore,  upon  more 
assured  ground  ;  his  sifting  of  authorities  was  more  thorough  and 
his  method  less  restricted  both  in  the  selection  of  details  and  in 
their  graphic  presentation.  At  the  same  time  he  cannot  be  classed 
as  in  the  highest  sense  a  philosophic  historian.  His  power  lies 
chiefly  in  the  clear  grasp  of  fact,  in  selection  and  synthesis,  in  the 
vivid  narration  of  incident.  For  extended  analysis  he  had  small 
liking  and  faculty  ;  his  critical  insight  is  limited  in  range,  and  he 
confines  himself  almost  wholly  to  the  concrete  elements  of  history. 
When  he  does  venture  upon  more  abstract  criticism  his  standards 
are  often  commonplace  and  superficial,  and  the  world-scheme  to 
which  he  relates  events  is  less  prpfound  than  the  thought  of  his 
time  altogether  warranted.  If  these  things,  however,  indicate 
failure  from  the  point  of  view  of  ideal  history,  they  at  least  make 
for  popularity.  Few  historians  have  had  in  a  higher  degree  that 
artistic  feeling  in  the  broad  arrangement  of  materials  which  en- 
sures interest.  The  course  of  his  narrative  is  unperplexed  by 
doubtful  or  insoluble  problems  ;  no  pretence  at  profundity  or 
subtlety  saps  the  vitality  of  his  characters  or  interrupts  the  flow  of 
incident  with  dissertation  and  digression.  The  painting  is  filled 
in  with  primary  colours  and  with  a  free  hand  ;  and  any  sense  of 
crudity  which  may  be  awakened  by  close  inspection  is  compensated 
by  the  vigour  and  massive  eff'ectiveness  of  the  whole.  Though  he  did 
not  bring  to  his  woik  the  highest  scientific  grasp,  he  brought  to  it 
scientific  conscientiousness  and  thoroughness  within  his  limitations, 
while  his  dominant  pictorial  faculty  gave  to  his  treatment  a  super- 
scientific  brilliancy.  The  I'omance  of  history  has  seldom  had  an 
abler  exponent,  and  the  large  number  of  editions  and  translations 
of  his  works  attests  their  undiminished  fascination  at  certain  stages 
of  popular  culture.  (R.  Jf-  W.) 

PRESCRIPTION  in  the  broadest  sense  of  the  word 
denotes  the  acquisition  or  extinction  of  rights  by  lapse  of 
time.  The  term  is  derived  from  the  precscriptio  of  Roman 
law,  originally  a  matter  of  procedure,  a  clause  inserted 
before  the  formula  on  behalf  of  either  the  plaintiff  or,  in 
early  times,  the  defendant,  limiting  the  question  at  issue. 
(See  Pj,EADlNG.)  It  was  so  called  from  its  preceding  the 
formula.'^  One  of  the  defendant's  prascriptiones  was  longi 
temporis  or  longss  possessionis  prsescinptio  (afterwards  super- 
seded by  the  exceptio),  limiting  the  question  to  the  fact  of 
po-ssession .  virithout  interruption  by  the  defendant  for  a 
certain  time  (see  Possession).  It  seems  to  have  been 
introduced  by  the  praetor  to  meet  cases  affecting  aliens  or 

'  "  Prsescriptionea  autem  appellittas  esse  ab  eo  quod  ante  formulas 
picscribuntur "  (Giias,  iv.  §  182). 


lands  out  of  Italy  where  the  usucapio  of  the  civil  law  (the 
original  means  of  curing  a  defect  of  title  by  lapse  of  time) 
could  not  apply      The  time  of  acquisition  hy  usucapio  was 
fixed  by  the  Twelve  Tables  at  one  year  for  movables  and 
two  years  for  immovables.     FrsMcriptio  thus  constituted 
a  kind  of  praetorian  usucapio.     In  the  time  of  Justinian 
usucapio  B,nAprxscriptio(c&Yi&A  also  longi  temporis  possessio), 
as  far  as  they  affected  the  acquisition  of  ownership,  differed 
only  in  name,  usucapio  being  looked  at  from  the  point  of 
view  of  property,  prsesmpiio  from  the  point  of  view  of 
pleading.     By  the  legislation  of  Justinian  movables  were 
acquired  by  three  years'  possession,  immovables  by  ten 
years'  possession  where  the  parties  had  their  domicile  in 
the  same  province  (inter  prxsentes),  twenty  years'  possession 
where  they  were  domiciled  in  different .  provinces  {inter 
absentes).     Servitudes  could  not  be  acquired  by  usucapio 
proper,  but  were  said  to  be  acquired  by  qiiasi  usucapio, 
probably  in  the  same  time  as  sufficed  to  give  a  title  to 
immovables.    There  was  also  a  longissimi  temporis  possessio 
of  thirty  years,  applicable  to  both  movables  and  immov- 
ables, and  requiring  nothing  but  bona  fides  on  the  part  of 
the  possessor.     T^Tiere  the  right  sought  to  be  established 
was  claimed  against  the  church,  a  still  longer  period  of 
forty  years  (at  one  time  a  hundred)  was  necessary.     Im:- 
memorial  prescription  was  required  in  a  few  cases  of  'a 
public  character,  as  roads.^     Prxscripiio  was  also  the  term 
applied  to  lapse  of  time  as  barring  actions  upon  contracts 
or  torts  under  various  provisions  corresponding  to  the  Eng- 
lish Statutes  of  Limitation.     The  prescription  of  Roman 
law  (and  of  modern  systems  based  upon  it)  is  thus  both 
acquisitive  and  extinctive.     It  looks  either  tp  the  length 
of  time  during  which  the  defendant  has  been  in  possession, 
or  to  the  length  of  time  during  which  the  plaintiff  has 
been  out  of  possession.     In  EngUsh  law  the  latter  kind  of 
prescription  is  called  Limitation  {q.v.).     The  tendency  of 
law  is  to  substitute  a  definite  for  an  indefinite  period  of 
prescription. 

In  English  law  prescription  is  used  in  a  comparatively 
narrow  sense.  It  is  acquisitive  only,  and  is  very  limited 
in  its  application.  A  title  by  prescription  can  be  made  only 
to  incorporeal  hereditaments — that  is,  in  legal  language, 
hereditaments  that  are  or  have  been  appendant  of  appurte- 
nant to  corporeal  hereditaments — and  to  certain  exemp- 
tions and  privileges.^  The  rights  claimable  by  prescription 
for  the  most  part  consist  of  rights  in  alieno  solo.  The 
most  important  are  advowsons,  tithes,  commons,  ways, 
watercourses,  lights,  offices,  dignities,  franchises,  pensions, 
annuities,  and  rents.  Land  or  movables  cannot  be  claimed 
by  prescription.  The  foundation  of  prescription  is  the  pre- 
sumption of  law  that  a  person  found  in  undistui-bed  enjoy- 
ment of  a  right  did  not  come  into  possession  by  an  unlawful 
act  (see  WUliams,  Rights  of  Common,  3).  In  the  English 
coiurts  this  presumption  was,  perhaps  it  may  be  said  still 
is,  based  upon  the  fiction  of  a  lost  grant,  viz.,  that  at  some 
time  in  the  past  there  had  been  a  grant  of  the  heredita- 
ment by  a  person  capable  of  granting  it  to  a  person  capable 
of  taking  it,  and  that  the  grant  had  been  lost.  The  jury 
were  instructed  to  find  the  loss  of  a  once  existing  grant  in 
whose  existence  no  one  really  believed.  The  enjoyment  of 
the  right  must  have  been  from  a  time  whereof  the  memory 
of  man  runneth  not  to  the  contrary.  The  period  of  legal 
memory  was  after-  a  time  necessarily  fixed  for  purposes  of 
convenience  at  a  certain  date.  The  date  adopted  varied 
at  first  with  the  time  during  which  the  demandant  in  a 
wirit  of  right  must  have  proved  seisin  in  himself  or  his 

5  "Viae  vicinales,  quarum  memoria  non  extat"  {Dig.,  xliii.  7,  3). 

^  Prescription  seems  at  one  time  to  have  borne  a  wider  meaning. 
A  claim  by  prescription  to  laud  is  mentioned  in  32  Hen.  VIII.  c.  2. 
And  it  seems  that  tenants  in  common  may  atill  maVe  title  to  land  bjr 
prescription  (Littleton's  Tenures,  8  310). 


PRESCRIPTION 


705 


ancestors.  After  one  or  two  previous  enactments  the  date 
was  finally  fixed  by  the  Statute  of  Westminster  the  First 
(3  Edw.  I.  c.  39)  at  the  jeign  of  Richard  I.,  which  was  in- 
terp;'eted  to  mean  the  first  year  of  the  reign  of  Richard  I. 
The  inconvenience  of  this  remote  date,  as  time  went  on, 
led  to  the  gradual  growth  of  a  rule  of  evidence  that  proof 
of  enjoyment  for  twenty  years  was  prima  facie  evidence 
of  enjoyment  from  time  immemoriaL  But  evidence  of  the 
beginning  of  the  enjoyment  at  however  remote  a  date, 
if  subsequent  to  1  Ric.  I.,  was  sufficient  to  destroy  the 
claim.  This  is  still  the  law  with  respect  to  claims  not 
falling  within  the  Prescription  Act,  mostly  rights  in  gross, 
— that  is,  where  there  is  no  dominant  or  servient  tenement, 
e.g.,  a  right  to  a  pew  or  to  a  several  fishery  in  gross.  The 
twenty  years'  rule  was  of  comparatively  late  introduction;  it 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  known  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth, 
and  was  perhaps  introduced  in  analogy  to  the  .Statute  of 
Limitations,  21  Jac.  I.  c.  16.  With  respect  to  claims  of 
])rofits  d  prendre  and  easements  a  change  was  made  by 
the  Prescription  Act,  2  and  3  Will.  IV.  c.  71  (extended  to 
Ireland  by  21  and  22  Vict.  c.  42,  but  not  to  Scotland). 
By  that  Act  claims  to  rights  of  common  and  other  profits 
a  jirendre  are  not  to  be  defeated  after  thirty  years'  enjoy- 
ment by  any  person  claiming  right  thereto  without  inter- . 
ruption  for  thirty  years  by  showing  only  the  commencement 
of  the  right,  and  after  sixty  years'  enjoyment  the  right  is 
absolute  and  indefeasible  unless  had  by  consent  or  agree- 
ment by  deed  or  writing  (§  1).  In  claims  of  rights  of  way 
or  other  easements  the  periods  are  twenty  years  and  forty 
years  respectively  (§  2).  The  right  to  access  and  use  of 
light  is  absolute  and  indefeasible  by  twenty  years'  enjoy- 
ment without  interruption  unless  by  consent  or  agreement 
by  deed  or  writing  (§  3).  The  before-mentioned  periods 
are  to  be  deemed  those  next  before  suits,  and  nothing  is 
to  be  deemed  to  be  an  interruption  unless  acquiesced  in 
for  one  year  (§  4).  In  pleading,  the  enjoyment  as  of  right 
may  be  alleged  during  the  period  mentioned  in  the  Act, 
and  v/ithout  claiming  in  the  name  or  right  of  the  owner 
of  the  fee  (§  5).  No  presumption  is  to  be  made  in  favour 
of  a  right  exercised  for  a  less  period  (§  6).  The  time 
during  which  a  person  otherwise  capable  of  resisting  a 
claim  is  an  infant,  idiot,  non  compos  mentis,  feme  covert, 
or  tenant  for  life,  or  during  which  an  action  or  suit  has 
been  pending  until  abated  by  the  death'  of  a  party,  is 
to  be  excluded  in  the  computation  of  the  periods  unless 
where  the  right  or  claim  is  declared  to  be  absolute  and 
indefeasible  (§  7).  In  the  period  of  forty  years  a. term 
of  life  or  more  than  three  years  is  to  be  e!xcluded  in 
case  the  claim  be  resisted  by  the  reversioner  within  three 
years  after  the  determination  of  the  term  (§  8).  _An  Act 
to  define  the  period  of  prescription  for  a  modus  decimandi, 
or  an  exemption  from  tithes  by  composition,  was  passed 
the  same  year  (2  and  3  Will  IV.  c.  100;  see  Tithes). 
The  Prescription  Act  is  only  supplemental  to  the  common 
iaw,  so  that  a  claim  may  be  based  upon  the  Act  or,  in  the 
alternative,  upon  the  common  law.  Nor  does  the  Act  alter 
the  conditions  necessary  at  common  law  for  a  gOod  claim 
by  prescription.  The  claim  under  tho  statuto.must  be  one 
which  may  be  lawfully  made  at  common  law.  The  prin- 
cipal rules  upon  the  subject  are  these.  (1)  Tlie  title  is 
founded  upon  actual  usage.  The  amount  of  actual  usage 
and  the  evidence  necessary  to  prove  it  vary  according  to 
the  kind  of  claim.  For  instance,  in  continuous  casements 
(such  as  a  watercourse)  the  enjoyment  may  go  on  without 
any  active  interference  by  the  person  claiming  tho  right ; 
in  discontinuous  casements  (such  as  a  right  of  way)  tho 
right  is  only  enjoyed'  at  intermittent  periods.  (2)  The 
enjoyment  must  (c.\cept  in  the  case  of  light)  be  as  of  right, 
a  nile  sometimes  expressed  by  tho  words  nee  vi  nee.  clam  nee 
prcca,rio,  derived  from  Bonmn  law, — that  is  to^.aa.y  peace- 


able, openly  used,  and  not  by  licence.  These  words  bear 
a  nieaning  less  strict  than  they  did  in  Roman  law.  The 
enjoyment  in  Roman  law  must  (except  in  the  case  of  ju» 
aqux  ducendx)  have  been  ex  justo  iitulo  in  order  to  found 
usucapio  or  quasi  usu^apio ;  in  jEnglish  law  there  is  no 
doubt  that  enjoyment  may  be  good  by  prescription,  evea 
though  it  began  in  trespass,  as  a  footpath  or  a  rent.  (3) 
The  prescription  must  be  certain  and  reasonable.  Examples 
of  claims  by  prescription  which  have  been  held  to  be  bad 
on  this  ground  are  a  claim  to  take  out  of  the  land  of 
another  as  much  clay  as  is  required  for  making  bricks  at 
a  certain  kiln,  and  a  claim  to  a  marriage  fee  which,  though 
reasonable  now,  would  have  been  an  unreasonable  amount 
to  have  been  paid  in  the  reign  of  Richard  I.,  looking  to 
the  difference  in  the  value  of  money.  Inhabitants  cannot 
claim  by  prescription,  as  they  are  an  uncertain  and  fluctuat- 
ing body,  unless  under  a  grant  from  the  crown,  which  con- 
stitutes them  a  corporation  for  the  purposes  of  the  grant. 
(4)  The  prescription  must  be  alleged  in  a  que  estate  or  in 
a  man  and  his  ancestors.  Prescription  in  a  que  estate  lies 
at  common  law  by  reason  of  continuous  and  immemorial 
enjoyment  by  the  claimant,  a  person  seised  in  fee,  and  all 
those  whose  estate  he  has  (toux  ceux  que  estate  il  ad).  Tho 
Prescription  Act  fixes  a  definite  period  and  does  away  with 
the  necessity  which  existed  at  common  law  of  prescribing^ 
in  the  name  of  the  person  seised  in  fee.  Prescription  in 
a  man  and  his  ancestors  is  not  of  ordinary  t)ccurrence  in 
practice.  "I  am  not  aware  of  more  than  two  cases  in 
modern  times,"  says  Mr  Joshua  Williams  {Rights  of  Com- 
mon, 9),  "where  a  prescription  of  this  kind,  viz.,  a  pre- 
scription of  enjoyment  by  a  man  and  his  ancestors,  irre- 
spective of  the  possession  of  land,  has  been  set  up." 
Corporations,  however,  occasionally  claim  by  a  prescription 
analogous  to  this,  viz.,  in  the  corporation  and  its  prede- 
cessors. Such  claims  by  either  a  person  or  a  corporation 
are  not  within  the  Prescription  Act,  which  applies  only 
where  there  are  dominant  and  servient  tenements.  By 
32  Hen.  VIII.  c.  2  no  person  can  make  any  prescription 
by  the  seisin  or  possession  of  his  ancestor  unless  such 
seisin  or  possession  has  been  ivithin  threescore  years  next 
before  such  prescription  made.  (5)  A  prescription  cannot 
lie  for  a  thing  which  cannot  bo  granted,  as  it  rests  upon 
the  presumption  of  a  lost  grant.  Thus  a  lord  of  a  manor 
cannot  prescribe  to  raise  a  tax  or  toll  upon  strangers,  for 
such  a  claim  could  never  have  been  good  by  any  grant. 

Prescription  and  Custom. — Prescription  must  be  care- 
fully distinguished  from  custom.  Prescription,  as  has 
been  said,  is  either  in  a  que  estate  or  in  a  man  and  his 
ancestors, — that  is  to  say,  it  is  a  personal  claim  ;  custom  is 
purely  local, — that  is  to  say,  it  is  a  usage  obtaining  the 
force  of  law  within  a  particular  district.  In  the  time  of 
Littleton  the  difference  between  prescription  and  custom 
was  not  fully  recognized  (see  Littleton's  Tenures,  fj  170), 
but  tho  law  as  it  exists  at  present  had  become  established 
by  tho  time  of  Sir  Edward  Coke.  "  J.  S.  seised  of  the 
Manner  of  D.  in  fee  prcscribeth  thus ;  That  J.  S.  his 
ancestors  and  all  those  whose  estate  he  hath  in  the  said 
Mannor  have  time  out  of  mind  of  man  had  and  used  to 
have  Common  of  pasture  &c.  in  such  a  place  Ac,  being 
the  land  of  some  other  &c.  as  pertaining  to  the  said 
Mannor.  This  property  we  call  a  Prescription.  A  customo 
is  in  this  manner  ;  A  copyholder  of  tho  Mannor  of  D.  doth 
plead  that  within  f'le  same  Mannor  there  is  and  hath 
been  for  time  out  of  mind  of  man  used,  that  all  the  Copy- 
holders of  the  said  Manner  have  had  and  used  to  have 
Common  of  pasture  Ac.  in  such  a  waste  of  the  Lord,  parcel 
of  the  said  Ma.nnoT  &c."  {Coke  upon  Littleton,  113b).  A 
ciLstom  must  be  certain,  reasonable,  and  excrci.scd  as  of 
right.  Like  prescription  at  common  law,  it  must  hav« 
existed  from  time  immemorial.     On  this  ground  a  custom 


706 


PRESCRIPTION 


to  erect  stalls  at  statute  sessions  for  hiring  servants  was 
held  to  be  bad,  because  such  sessions- were  introduced  by 
the  Statute  of  Labourers,  23  Edw.  III.  st.  1  (Simpson  v. 
Wells,  Law  Reports,  7  Queen's  Bench,  214).  Some  rights 
may  be  claimed  by  custom  which  cannot  be  claimed  by 
prescription,  e.g.,  a  right  of  inhabitants  to  dance  on  a 
village  green,  for  such  a  right  is  not  connected  with  the 
enjoyment  of  land.  On  the  other  hand,  profits  d,  prendre 
can  be  claimed  by  prescription  but  not  by  custom,  unless 
in  two  or  three  exceptional  cases,  such  as  rights  of  copy- 
holders to  common  in  the  lord's  demesne,  or  to  dig  sand 
within  their  tenements,  rights  to  estovers  in  royal  forests, 
and  rights  of  tin-bounders  in  Cornwall. 

United  States. — The  law  of  the  United  States  (except 
in  Louisiana)  is  based  upon  that  of  England,  but  the 
period  of  enjoyment  necessary  to  found  a  title  by  pre- 
scription varies  in  the  different  States.  An  easement  or 
profit  d,  prendre  is  acquired  by  twenty  years'  enjoyment 
in  most  States,  following  the  English  common  law  rule. 
In  Michigan  the  term  is  twenty-five  years,  Pennsylvania 
twenty-one  years,  Connecticut  and  Vermont  fifteen  years. 
South  Carolina  five  years.  In  Louisiana  the  period 
varies  according  to  the  subject  from  three  to  thirty  years, 
and  property  other  than  incorporeal  hereditaments  may 
be  claimed  by  prescription  as  in  Roman  law  (see  Keiifs 
Gomm.,  vol.  iii.  442).  In  the  case  of  ancient  lights  "the 
tendency  of  the  decisions  of  many  of  the  State  courts 
seems  to  have  been  against  the  English  doctrine,  that  a 
prescriptive  right  to  light  may  be  gained  by  mere  enjoy- 
ment not  necessarily  under  a  claim  of  right  ( WashlmrrJs 
Law  of  Real  Property,  vol.  ii.  318). 

International  law  uses  the  term  "prescription"  in  its 
wider  or  Roman  sense.  "  The  general  consent  of  mankind 
has  established  the  principle  that  long  and  uninterrupted 
possession  by  one  nation  excludes  the  claim  of  every  other  " 
(Wheaton,  Int.  Law,  §  165).  Historic  instances  of  rights 
which  were  at  one  time  claimed  and  exercised  by  pre- 
scription as  against  other  nations  are  the  sovereignty  of 
Venice  over  the  Adriatic  and  of  Great  Britain  over  the 
Narrow  Seas,  and  the  right  to  the  Sound  dues  long  exacted 
by  Denmark.  But  such  claims  were  rejected  by  the  highest 
authorities  on  international  law  {e.g.,  Grotius),  on  the 
ground  that  they  were  defective  both  in  Justus  titulus  and 
in  de  facto  possession.  There  is  no  special  period  fixed, 
as  in  municipal  law,  for  the  acquirement  of  international 
rights  by  lapse  of  time.  In  private  international  law 
prescription  is  treated  as  part  of  the  lex  fori  or  law  of 
procedure.     (See  Limitation.)  (j.  wf.) 

Scotland. — lu  the  law  of  Scotland  "prescription"  is  a  term  of 
wider  meaning  than  in  England,  being  used  as  including  both  pre- 
scription and  limitation  of  English  law.  In  its  most  general  sense 
it  may  be  described  as  the  effect  which  the  law  attaches  to  the  lapse 
of  time,  and  it  involves  the  idea  of  possession  held  by  one  person 
adverse  to  the  rights  of  another.  Though  having  its  basis  in  the 
common  law,  its  operation  was  early  defined  by  statute,  and  it  is 
now  in  all  respects  statutory.  The  most  appropriate  mode  of  treat- 
ing the  prescription  of  Scotch  law  is  to  regard  it  (I  J  as  a  mode  of 
acquiring  rights — the  positive  prescription ;  (2)  as  a  mode  of  extin- 
guishing rights — the  negative  prescription  ;  (3)  as  a  mode  of  limit- 
ing rights  of  action — the  shorter  prescriptions.  It  must,  however, 
be  observed  with  reference  to  this  division  that  the  distinction 
between  (1)  and  (2)  is  rather  an  accidental  (due  to  a  loose  inter- 
pretation of  the  language  of  the  Act  1617,  c.  12)  than  a  logically 
accurate  one.  It  is,  moreover,  as  wUl  immediately  be  seen,  strictly 
confined  to  heritable  rights,  having  no  application  in  the  case  of 
movable  property.  But,  though  the  di: '  iaction  has  been  com- 
plained 01  by  the  highest  authority  as  t  iding  to  create  embar- 
rassment in  the  law  (see  opinion  of  Lord  iJhancellor  St  Leonards 
in  Dougall  v.  Dundee  Harbour  Trustees,  1852,  24  Jurist,  885),  it 
is  now  too  well  settled  to  be  departed  from. 

1.  Positive  Prescription. — The  positive  prescription  was  intro- 
duced by  the  Act  1617,  c.  12, — a  statute  which  has  been  described 
by  Lord  Karnes  as  "  the  palladium  of  our  land  propric'tors."  After 
setting  forth  in  the  preamble  the  inconvenience  resulting  from  the 
loss  of  titles  and  the  danger  of  forgery  after  the  means  of  improba- 


tion  are  lost  by  the  lapse  of  time,  it  enacts  that  whatever  heritages 
the  liegea,  their  predecessors  or  authors,  have  possessed  by  tbem- 
selves  or  others  in  their  names  peaceably,  in  virtue  of  infeftmenta 
for  the  space  of  forty  years,  continually  and  together,  from  the 
date  of  their  said  infeftments,  and  without  any  lawful  interruption 
during  the  said  space,  they  shall  not  be  disturbed  therein,  provided 
they  produce  a  written  title  on  which  their  possession  has  pro- 
ceedea.  Such  written  title  must  be  either  a  charter  and  sasine 
preceding  the  forty  years,  or,  when  no  charter  is  extant,  instni- 
ments  of  sasine  proceeding  upon  retours  or  precepts  of  clare  constat. 
Though  the  statute  in  its  literal  construction  only  applied  to  such 
heritable  subjects  as  had  been  conveyed  by  charter  and  sasine,  it 
was  at  an  early  date  interpreted  so  as  to  include  other  heritable 
rights,  as  servitudes,  tacks,  public  rights  of  way,  &c.,  where  no 
charter  could  be  supposed  to  exist.  Thus  forty  years'  possession 
of  a  road  by  members  of  the  public  is  held  to  establish  a  right  of 
way.  And  any  member  of  the  public  who  uses  or  may  have  occasion 
to  use  the  road  is  considered  to  have  a  good  title  to  plead  prescrip- 
tion. Thus  in  the  celebrated  Glen  Tilt  case  a  path  through  Glen 
Tilt  was  established  as  a  right  of  way  in  an  action  at  the  instance 
of  three  gentlemen,  one  of  whom  was  a  residenter  in  Edinburgh  and 
another  in  Aberdeen  (see  Torrie  v.  Duke  of  AthoU,  1849,  12  Dun- 
lop's  Beports,  328  ;  affirmed  in  House  of  Lords,  1852, 1  Macqueen's 
Reports,  65).  This  valuable  Act  of  1617  was  so  well  framed  that  it 
continued  to  regulate  the  prescription  of  land  rights  till  the  year 
1874.  By  the  Conveyancing  Act  of  that  year  (37  and  38  Vict.  c. 
94,  8.  34)  the  period  of  prescription  was  shortened  from  forty  years 
to  twenty.  It  was  provided  that  possessions  for  twenty  years  upon 
"an  ca; /aoie  valid  irredeemable  title  recorded  in  the  appropriate 
register  of  sasines "  should  in  future  give  the  same  right  as  forty 
years'  possession  upon  charter  and  sasine  under  the  earlier  law. 
This  Act  of  1874  does  not,  however,  apply  to  all  the  cases  which 
fell  under  the  Act  of  1617.  Thus  it  has  been  decided  that  twenty 
years'  possession  on  a  charter  of  adjudication  followed  by  sasine 
and  a  declarator  of  expiry  of  the  legal  is  insufficient  to  give  an 
unchallengeable  right,  an  adjudication  not  being  an  "exfcicie  irre- 
deemable title."  (Hinton  v.  Connel's  Trustees,  1883,  10  Eettie's 
Eeporis,  p.  1110).  It  is  further  specially  provided  by  the  Act  of 
1874  that  the  twenty  years'  prescription  is  not  to  apply  to  servi- 
tudes, .rights  of  way,  and  puoiic  rights  generally.  The  following 
rules  apply  to  the  positive  prescription,  (o)  The  possession  which 
is  required  for  it  must  be  peaceable,  conMnuous  ("continually  and 
together,"  as  the  Act  of  1617  has  it),  and  uninterrupted.  (6)  The 
prescripiion  runs  de  momenio  in  momentum,  (c)  The  person. against 
whom  the  prescription  runs  must  be  major  and  sui  juris, — a  rule 
which,  as  regards  minoritj',  was  specially  provided  for  by  the  Act 
of  1617,  and  as  regards  other  CE^es  of  incapacity  by  the  application 
of  the  principles  of  the  common  law.  Under  the  Conveyancing 
Act,  however,  it  is  provided  that  in  all  cases  where  the  twenty 
years'  prescription  applies,  the  lapse  of  thirty  years  is  to  exclude 
any  plea  on  the  ground  of  minority  or  want  of  capacity. 

2.  Ncgati-ci  Prescription. — This  prescription  was  introduced  by 
the  Act  1469,  c.  28,  and  re-enacted  with  some  modification  by 
1474,  c.  55.  At  first  restricted  to  personal  claims  of  debt,  it  was 
gradually  extended  in  practice  and  ultimately  made  applicable 
to  heritable  bonds  and  other  heritable  rights  by  the  above-men- 
tioned Act  of  1617.  By  the  Act  of  1469  it  is  declared  that  the 
person  having  interest  in  an  obligation  must  follow  the  same  within 
the  space  of  forty  years  and  take  document  thereujwn,  otherwise  it 
shall  be  prescribed  The  negative  prescription  accordingly  extin- 
guishes in  tolo  the  right  to  demand  performance  of  an  obligation 
after  forty  years,  the  years  being  reckoned  from  the  day  on  which 
fulfilment  of  the  obligation  can  be  first  demanded.  The  lapse  of 
this  period  of  time  creates  a  conclusive  presumption — one  incapable 
of  being  redargued — that  the  debt  or  obligation  has  been  paid  or 
fulfilled.  But  it  must  be  kept  in  view  that  the  negative  pre- 
scription does  not  per  se — without  the  operation  of  the  positive — 
establish  a  right  to  heritable  property  (Erskine,  InM.,  o.  iii.  tit. 
7,  §  8).  Thus,  as  has  been  observed,  "  If  A  has  possessed  for  a 
hundred  years  but  was  not  infeft,  any  competitor  who  has  neglected 
his  right  for  that  time  may  completely  establish  it,  if  his  right 
was  better  than  A's  "  (per  Lord  Corchouse,  in  Cubbison  v.  Hyslop, 
183,  16  Shaw's  Beports,  p.  112).  So  a  right  of  patronage  has  been 
held  incapable  of  being  lost  by  the  negative  prescription  ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  is  settled  that  servitudes  and  public  rights  of 
way  may  be  so  extinguished.  As  regards  the  character  of  tie  pre- 
scription, it  is  requisite,  in  the  same  way  as  in  the  case  of  the 
positive,  that  the  years  shall  have  run  continuously  and  without 
interruption,  i.e.,  without  any  act  done  on  the  part  of  the  creditor 
which  indicates  his  intention  to  keep  alive  the  right  Such  inter- 
ruption may,  for  instance,  take  place  by  the  payment  of  interest 
on  thfe  debt,  or  citation  of  the  debtor  in  an  action  for  the  debt,  or 
by  a  claim  being  lodged  in  the  debtor's  sequestration,  in  the  same 
way  as  in  the  positive,  the  currency  of  the  negative  prescription  is 
suspended  by  the  debtor  being  minor  or  non  valcns  agere. 

3.  Shorter  Prescriptions. — 'There  are  certain  short  prescriptions 
recognized  by  Scotch  law — corresponding  to  the  limitations  of 


P  R  E— P  R  B 


707 


English  law — which  operate  not  as  ertingnishing  rights  bat  as 
excluding  the  ordinary  means  cf  proving  them.  The  following 
require  to  be  noticed,  (a)  Vicennial  prescription.  By  the  Act 
1617,  c.  13,  a  vicennial  prescription  of  retoura  wps  introduced,  and 
in  modem  practice  the  same  prescription  is  applicable  to  an  extract 
decree  of  service  which  has  taken  the  place  of  a  retour  (31  and  32 
Vict  c.  101,  §  37).  This  prescription  protects  a  person  who  has 
been  served  as  heir  for  twenty  years  against  actiou  by  any  other 
person  claiming  to  be  heir.  By  the  Act  16C9,  c  9,  holograph 
missive  letters  and  bonds  in  compt  books  also  prescribe  in  twenty 
years.  The  debt,  however,  is  not  in  this  case  extinguished,  as 
within  forty  years  it  may  be  proved  by  the  defender's  oath. 
(6)  Decennial  prescription.  By  the  Ac*,  1669,  c.  9,  all  actions  by 
minors  against  their  tutors  and  coratois,  and  vke  versa,  must  be 
prosecuted  within  ten  years  from  the  expiration  of  the  guardian- 
ship (Erskinc,  Inst.,  iii  7,  25).  (c)  Septennial  proscription.  By 
the  Act  1695,  a  5,  it  is  provided  that  no  person  binding  himself 
for  and  with  another,  conjunctly  and  severally,  in  any  bond  or 
contract  for  sums  of  money  shall  be  bound  for  more  than  seven 
years  after  the  date  of  the  obligation.  But  it  is  necessary  that  the 
cautioner  either  be  bound  expressly  as  such  in  the  bond,  &c. ,  or,  if 
bound  as  co-principal,  that  there  be  either  a  clause  of  relief  in  the 
bond  or  in  a  separate  back  bond  duly  intimated  {i.e.,  notarially  or 
in  some  formal  way)  to  the  creditor.  This  prescription  does  not 
apply  to  guarantees  for  the  fulfilment  of  an  ofEce,  or  to  security 
for  a  bill  cf  exchange,  or  to  judicial  bonds,  (d)  Sexennial 
prescription.  This  prescription  applies  to  biDs  and  promissory 
notes,  80  as  to  deprive  them  of  their  privileges.  After  the  lapse  of 
six  years  the  holder  of  the  bill  or  note  can  no  longer  found  on  it 
except  as  an  adminicle  of  evidence  to  prove  his  debt.  This  pre- 
scription was  first  introduced  by  12  Geo.  III.  c.  72.  («)  Quin- 
quennial prescription  applies  to  bargains  concerning  movables,  such 
as  sales  of  goods,  loans,  deposits,  &c.  — in  short,  to  all  mercantile 
transactions  except  such  as  pass  into  current  accounts  and  fall  under 
the  triennial  prescription  noticed  below.  By  the  Act  1669,  c.  9,  such 
bargains  prescribe  in  five  years,  and  can  thereafter  only  he  proved 
by  the  debtor's  writ  or  oath.  Tho  same  statute  also  made  ministers' 
stipends,  multures,  and  maills  and  duties  prescribe  in  five  years 
unless  proved  by  writ  or  oath.  (/)  Triennial  prescription.  This 
valuable  prescription  was  introduced  so  far  back  as  the  year  1679. 
By  the  Act  1579,  c.  83,  it  was  provided  that  "actions  of  debt  for 
house  maills,  men's  ordinaries,  servants'  fees,  merchants'  accounts, 
and  others  the  like  debts  not  founded  on  written  obligaHons  "  shall 
prescribe  in  three  years.  Under  the  terms  "  like  debts  "  have  been 
b''ld  to  fall  such  debts  as  workmen's  wages,  law  agents'  accounts, 
and  rents  due  on  verbal  lease.  All  such  debts,  must  be  pursued 
within  three  years,  otherwise  they  cannot  be  proved  except  by  the 
writ  or  oath  of  the  party  sued.  Tho  period  from  which  this  pre- 
scription begins  to  run  is  the  date  of  tne  last  item  in  the  account. 
With  regard  to  all  the  minor  prescriptions  it  is  to  be  observed 
generally  that  the  respective  periods  of  time  must  have  run  without 
interruption,  and  that,  except  when  the  contrary  is  expressed  in  the 
Act  constituting  the  prescription,  the  years  of  minority  and  non 
valeniia  agere  are  not  taken  into  account.  (H.  GO.) 

PRESERVED  FOOD.  The  perfect  preaervation  of 
any  substance  for  use  as  food  implies  the  retention  of  its 
fuU  nutritive  power,  sapidity,  afad  digestibility,  with  its 
natural  odour  and  colour  unimpaired,  for  such  length  of 
time  as  may  be  required.  The  process  employed  must  be 
sufficiently  cheap  to  allow  of  the  preserved  food  being 
placed  in  the  market  at  a  price  which  will  insure  a  demand 
for  it.  The  operations  connected  with  the  preparation  of 
many  food-substances  are  partly  directed  to  tho  produc- 
tion of  food  in  a  new  and  more  convenient  form  from 
that  in  which  it  is  yielded  by  nature,  and  partly  with 
the  view  of  preserving  the  alimentary  body.  Cheese  is 
an  example  of  such  a  food-preparation,  and  to  a  smaller 
extent  so  also  are  butter  and  other  edible  fats  and  oils, 
aa  well  as  fruit  and  vegetable  jellies  and  conserves.  Con- 
centrated foods  and  extracts,  such  as  Liebig's  extract  of 
beef,  belong  to  the  same  category,  consisting  of  certain 
essential  principles  of  animal  food  easily  preserved,  and 
prepared  partly  on  that  account. 

Many  of  the  most  important  food-staples  require  nothing 
more  than  favourable  natural  conditions  for  their  preser- 
vatipn,  till  they  are  ordinarily  required  for  consumption. 
Such  is  the  case  with  the  cereal  grains,  which  are  suffi- 
ciently ripened  and  dried  in  the  harvest  field,  and  with  all 
hard  farinaceous  and  oleaginous  seeds,  nuts,  and  fruits. 
Host  soft  succulent  fruits  and  vegetables,  on  the  other 


hand,  and  all  varieties  of  animal  food  require  artificial 
preservation,  and  it  is  to  these  that  the  various  processes 
in  use  are  applied.  The&e  processes  resolve  themselves 
into  four  groups, — (1)  drying,  (2)  use  of  antiseptics,  (3) 
exclusion  of  air,  and  (4)  refrigeration.  Several  hundreds 
of  patents  have  been  obtained  in  the  United  Kingdom 
alone  for  preservative  processes  coming  under  one  or  more 
of  these  heads ;  but  in  reality  the  methods  of  preservation 
in  practical  operation  axe  not  many. 

1.  Drying  is  the  most  ancient  and  primitive  of  all 
processes  for  preserving  food,  and,  although  it  answers  but 
imperfectly  for  most  animal  substances,  yet  in  dry  hot 
coimtries  it ,  is  very  extensively  practised.  In  the  River 
Plate  regions  of  South  America  a  large  quantity  of  beef  is 
annually  prepared  for  export  to  Brazil  and  tho  West  Indies 
under  the  name  of  "  tasajo  "  or  "  charqui  dulce,"  principally 
by  drying.  The  meat  is  simply  cut  into  pieces,  freed  from 
fat,  bone,  and  tendon,  powdered  with  maize  meal,  and 
dried  hard  by  exposure  to  the  sun,  care  being  taken  to 
keep  it  protected  from  rain.  The  dried  product  has  about 
one-fouxth  the  weight  of  fresh  meat,  and  is  of  a  dark 
colour.  It  requires  to  be  soaked  in  water  and  cooked 
for  a  long  time,  yielding  at  best  a  tough  indigestible  meat; 
but  it  makes  a  well-flavoured  nutritive  soup.  The  greater 
part  of  the  charqui  or  jerked  beef  of  South  America  is, 
however,  slightly  salted  as  well  as  sun-dried ;  and  among 
many  races  where  drying  is  practised  the  use  of  salt  and 
smoking  are  also  appreciated.  Many  attempts  have  been 
made  to  introduce  dried  meat  in  the  form  of  powder  or 
meal.  For  this  purpose  fresh  meat,  deprived  of  fat,  is 
cut  into  thin  slices  and  slowly  dried  at  a  low  heat  in  an 
oven  or  heated  chamber  till  the  meat  is  hard,  crisp,  and 
dry.  When  powdered,  such  a  preparation  keeps  well  if  it 
is  not  exposed  to  damp ;  but  it  cannot  be  said  to  oflFer 
any  advantages  for  general  use,  although  it  might  be  of 
value  to  an  army  during  a  campaign.  Nevertheless  a 
company,  under  the  name  of  the  Came  Pura  Company, 
has  been  established  in  Berlin  within  the  last  few  years 
for  the  manufacture  of  such  meat-powder.  Of  an  ana- 
logous nature  are  the  concentrated  soup  tablets  or  cakes, 
prepared,  principally  in  Russia,  by  the  rapid  evaporation 
of  rich  soups,  with  which  dried  vegetables  and  flour  are 
sometimes  incorporated  in  proportion  sufficient  to  jrield  a 
good  soup  on  dilution  with  boiling  water.  These  soups 
are  generally  deficient  in  aroma  and  have  frequently  an 
unpleasant  gluey  consistency  and  taste.  Concentrated 
meat  biscuits,  in  which  flour  and  extract  of  beef  are 
prepared  in  a  thoroughly  dry  condition,  and  which  were 
largely  -used  in  the  American  Civil  War,  the  German 
pea  sausage  ("  Erbsenwurst "),  made  famous  during  the 
Franco-Prussian  War,  and  pemmican  are  examples  of  food 
in  which  dried  meat  may  be  well  preserved  in  conjunction 
with  farinaceous  substances.  Preservation  by  simple  dry- 
ing is  extensively  practised  among  the  Chinese  for  their 
gelatinous  foods,  such  as  trejjang,  dried  tendons,  skins, 
mussels  and  other  molluscs,  and  fish.  MUk  also  may  be 
preserved  in  tho  form  of  a  dry  powder,  but  tho  result  ia 
not  sufficiently  attractive  to  command  a  market. 

Succulent  fruits  and  vegetables  are  satisfactorily  pre- 
served by  simple  drying.  The  principal  dried  saccharine 
fruits  of  commerce  are  raisins,  currants,  figs,  dates,  and 
prunes.  These  differ  in  their  nutritive  properties  con- 
siderably, from  tho  natural  fruits  they  represent,  as  do 
also  the  farinaceous  fruits  and  vegetables  preserved  by 
drj'ing,  such  as  tho  banana,  bread-fruit,  mandioc,  <tc.  A 
process  of  drying  and  compressing  ordinary  pot-vegetables 
and  potatoes,  invented  by  M.  Ma,<«on  about  1845,  is  now 
carried  out  on  a  large  scale  by  Messrs  Chollet  i  Co.  of 
Paris.  The  vegetables  to  be  treated  are  carefully  picked, 
plunged  into  boiling  wata"  to  coagulate  the  vegetable  at 


708 


PRESERVED      FOOD 


bumen,  shred,  and'promptly  driea  in  a  current  of  heated 
air.  They  ar^  then  submitted  to  powerful  hydraulic  pres- 
sure, condensing  them  into  thin  dense  cakes,  which  retain 
from  9  to  15  per  c^nt.  of  the  weight  of  the  original  green 
substances,  or  20  per  cent,  of  the  weight  in  the  case  of 
potatoes,  but  all  in  greatly  reduced  compass.  The  saving 
of  space  is,  equally  with  the  preservation,  of  the  utmost 
importance  for  use  on  board  ship  or  by  soldiers  in  the 
field.  Within  the  space  of  a  cubic  metre  25,000  rations 
of  Chollet's  compressed  vegetables  can  be  packed,  each 
ration  weighing  25  grammes  and  representing  about  200 
grammes  of  green  vegetables.  As  anti- scorbutics  such 
prese-ved  vegetables  are  inferior ;  but  they  are  neverthe- 
less exceedingly  useful,  and  when  well  cooked  almost 
eoual  in  taste  to  the  fresh  vegetables. 

1.  Use  of  Antiseptics. — The  variety  of  antiseptic  sub- 
stances which  have  been  experimented  with  for  the  curing 
of  food  is  numberless.  Bodies  solid,  liquid,  and  gaseous 
have  been  proposed,  and  these,  have  been  variously  recom- 
mended for  superficial  application,  for  injection,  and  for 
forming  an  artificial  atmosphere  around  the  substance  to 
be  preserved ;  &nd  further,  it  has  been  suggested  that 
the  creature  whose  fiesh  is  to  be  preserved  should,  before 
killing,  be  impregnated  with  the  antiseptic  by  inhalation 
or  otherwise.  In  practice  the  antiseptics  used  are  very 
few  in  number,  since  many  of  them  have  a  physiological 
effect  on  the  digestive  and  other  internal  organs  into 
which  they  are  introduced  with  the  food,  and  so  must 
injure  the  health.  Besides,  many  proposed  antiseptics  are 
either  in  themselves  unpleasant  in  smell  or  taste,  or  alter 
the  appearance,  colour,  taste,  or  consistency  of  the  food 
preserved.  The  least  objectionable  are  substances  which 
enter  into  human  food  themselves,  such  as  certain  salts, 
sugar,  vinegar,  and  alcohol.  The  most  ancient,  most  com- 
monly used,  and  throughout  most  effective  is  common  salt. 
Salt  acts  on  meat  by  withdrawing  the  animal  juices,  the 
place  of  which  it  takes,  and  by  hardening  the  muscular 
tissue.  Consequently  it  seriously  lessens  the  nutritive 
value  of  animal  food,  and  renders  it  much  less  digestible 
than  fresh  meat.  It  appears  to  be  least  injurious  Lq  the 
case  of  pork,  the  fat  of  which  it  renders  more  digestible, 
and,  as  a  consequence,  no  animal  food  is  more  largely  pre- 
served by  the  process  of  salting.  A  certain  proportion  of 
other  saline  bodies,  notably  saltpetre  (nitrate  of  potash), 
and  of  sugar  is  frequently  combined  with  salt  in  curing, 
and  so  also  are  other  antiseptic  and  preservative  agencies. 
Bacon,  for  example,  is  both  salted  and  smoked,  while 
tongues  and  fish  are  not  only  salted  and  smoked  but  also 
dried.  Smoking  alone  is  very  effective  in  preserving  and 
flavouring  fish  intended  for  consumption  within  a  limited 
time  after  curing.  The  quantity  of  fish  prepared  for  human 
food  by  salting,  smoking,  and  drying,  together  or  separately, 
is  incalculably  great.  Of  other  antiseptics  which  have  been 
suggested,  and  which  may  be  used  effectively  for  the  pre- 
servation of  food,  few  possess  any  advantage  whatever  over 
common  salt,  which  is  certain  in  its  action,  abundant, 
cheap,  and,  within  limits,  harmless.  Among  the  substances 
which  have  of  recent  years  come  into  prominent  notice  are 
bisulphite  of  lime  and  various  preparations  of  boracic 
acid,  notably  that  known  a^  "  glacialin "  salt  and  the 
boro-glycerin  introduced  by  Professor  Barff.  Boracic  acid 
is  a  powerful,  inodorous,  and  tasteless  preservative ;  but 
in  repeated  small  doses  it  exercises  a  specific  influence  on 
the  excretory  organs  which  must  be  detrimental  to  health. 
Salicylic  acid  has  also  been  extensively  tried  as  a  food- 
pieserver,  more  especially  for  milk,  but,  in  addition  to  the 
unpleasant  taste  it  communicates  to  the  substances,  there 
are  physiological  objections  to  its  use. 

The  use  of  non-saline  preservative  agents  is  exemplified 
on  a  large  scale  in  the  pickling  in  vinegar  of  succulent  fruits 


and  vegetables  (see  Pickles,  p.  80  above).  Sugar  plays 
a  similar  part  in  the  preparation  of  jams,  jellies,  candied 
fruits,  (fcc,  and  alcohol  is  also  occasionally  employed  as 
a  medium  for  the  preservation  of  fruits.  Oil  acts  as  a 
preservative  more  by  its  power  of  excluding  atmospheric 
air  than  from  any  antiseptic  influence  it  possesses,  and 
therefore  comes  under  the  next  category. 

3.  Exclusion  of  Air. — The  principal  method  of  focj 
preservation  dependent  on  the  exclusion  of  air  is  the 
invention  of  Frangois  Appert  and  dates  from  1809.  It 
consists  essentially  in  securing  cooked  food  in  hermetic- 
ally sealed  vessels  from  which  the  atmospheric  air  is  as 
far  as  possible  driven  off  before  sealing,  and  in  killing  by 
heat  or  otherwise  such  gerrns  or  ferments  as  may  remain 
within  the  vessel  either  before  or  after  it  is  sealed  up. 
The  process  does  not  depend  for  its  success  on  the  perfect 
exclusion  of  air, — indeed,  originally  there  was  no  attempt 
to  drive  it  off,  but  air  sealed  up  with  the  food  was  im- 
mediately submitted  to  a  temperature  sufficiently  high  to 
kill  all  germs  introduced  with  it  and  existing  in  the  food 
itself.  Quite  recently  experiments  have  been  conducted 
by  Mr  J.  J.  Coleman,  the  inventor  of  the  cold-air  process 
described  below,  with  the  view  of  preserving  food  in  her- 
metically sealed  vessels,  which,  instee,d  of  being  exposed 
to  heat,  are  subjected  to  an  intense  cold,  supposed  to  be 
sufficient  to  kill  all  minute  putrefactive  organisms ;  but  he 
has  found  that  a  cold  of  130°  Fahr.  below  freezing-point  is 
insufficient  to  destroy  all  organic  germs.  At  present  the 
innumerable  varieties  of  tinned  foods,  both  animal  and 
vegetable,  are  entirely  the  result  of  the  application  of 
Appert's  principle.  In  practice  there  are  several  processes 
of  "tinning"  food,  but  the  general  method  adopted  is 
everywhere  uniform  in  principle. 

The  tins  used  are  manufactured  with  the  greatest  care,  and  most 
inp^nious  machinery  has  been  devised  for  their  thorough  and  ex- 
peditious preparation.  The  proper  quantity  of  meat,  generally, 
though  not  necessarily,  free  from  bone,  tendon,  and  undue  propor- 
tion of  fat,  is  weighed  out  and  placed  raw  in  the  tin,  over  which 
the  cover  is  soldered.  In  the  cover  a  small  "pin-hole "  is  left,  and 
the  tins  are  placed  in  a  bath  or  boiler  of  solution  of  chloride  of 
calcium,  which  boils  at  a  temperature  of  from  260°  to  270°  Fahr. 
Each  tin  is  Immersed  to  within  an  inch  or  two  of  the  top,  and  as 
the  heat  is  gradually  raised  steam  issues  from  the  pin-hole,  carrying 
off  the  atmospheric  air  from  within  the  tin.  When  all  the  air 
has  been  expelled  the  pin-hole  is  promptly  closed  with  a  drop  of 
solder,  and  the  tin,  hermetically  sealed,  is  entirely  immersed  for 
some  time  in  the  superheated  solution.  When  withdrawn  and 
cooled,  the  tins  are  placed  in  a  heated  testing-honse,  in  which 
after  a  few  days  those  that  hn\e  been  imperfectly  treated  manifest 
their  defects  by  a  bulgihg  of  the  sides,  due  to  the  generation  of 
gases  from  the  putrefying  mass  they  contain.  Those  which  hare 
been  successfully  preserved  generally  show  both  ends  collapsed 
or  depressed  by  the  pressure  of  the  air  outside  ;  and  usually  on 
a  well-preserved  tin  being  pierced  the  air  is  audibly  sucked  in. 

The  process  is  applicable  to  all  classes  of  food,  vegetable 
as  well  as  animal,  which  may  without  destruction  be  sub- 
mitted to  a  temperature  sufficient  to  render  putrefactive 
organisms  inert,  and  in  experience  the  amount  of  heat  to 
wiiich  different  substances  must  be  exposed  varies  very  con- 
siderably The  variety  of  substances  preserved  by  tinning 
is  now  very  great,  and  the  total  weight  of  human  food  so 
stored  is  enormous.  Numerous  modifications  of  the  air- 
exclusion  principle,  effectual  within  certain  limits,  are  in 
use.  The  preservation  of  sardines  is  due  partly  to  cooking 
them  in  oil  and  surrounding  them  with  it  and  partly  to 
sealing  them  in  tins,  aud  potted  meats,  the  "conserves 
fines"  of  the  French,  are  partly  preserved  by  the  use  of 
fat.  The  most  effective  means  of  preserving  eggs  consists 
in  coating  the  shells,  as  soon  as  they  are  laid,  with  butter 
or  some  other  fat,  gum,  or  varnish.  Such  coating  prevents 
the  transfusion  of  water  from  the  egg  which  ordinarily  goes 
on,  the  place  of  the  water  being  taken  by  atmospheric  air, 
rendering  the  egg  specifically  lighter  and  promoting  its 
putrefactive  change.      Processes  for  the  exclusion  of  ait 


P  R  E  — P  R  E 


709 


by  the  substitution  of  an  atmosphere  of  some  inert  gas 
have  not  proved  successful,  neither  has  the  method  pro- 
posed and  patented  by  Dr  Redwood,  which  consisted  in 
coating  meat  with  a  layer  of  paraffin. 

4.  Refrigeration. — That  cold  checks  putrefaction  has 
long  been  known  from  ordinary  experience.  Bodies  of 
the  prehistoric  mammoth  have  been  found  in  the  ice  of 
the  Siberian  tundra  so  well  preserved  that  the  flesh  was 
eaten  by  dogs.  Ice  is  much  used  by  fish  merchants  and 
other  provision  dealers  for  the  temporary  preservation  of 
their  perishable  stores ;  but  the  cost  and  inconvenience  of 
the  process  in  temperate,  and  still  more  in  hot,  climates 
render  it  applicable  only  for  brief  spacesof  time  and  to  the 
more  costly  of  food-products.  But  about  the  yt;ar  1875 
ice  began  to  be  used  on  a  large  scale  for  the  preservation 
of  fresh  meat  during  its.  transit  from  America  to  the 
European  markets.  This,  the  first  practically  successful 
method  of  preserving  fresh  meat  for  such  a  period  as 
enabled  it  to  be  sold  in  remote  m.arkets,  consisted  in 
cooling  a  large  meat  chamber  hung  full  of  carcases  by 
continually  blowing  into  it  air  which  had  previously  been 
cooled  to  near  the  freezing  point  by  being  made  to  pass 
through  reservoirs  of  ice.  The  process  was  not  all  that 
could  be  dep'red,  but  it  successfully  solved  a  question 
which  had  previously  been  attempted  many  times  and 
ways.  It  continued  to  be  the  method  by  which  large 
<|Uantities  of  fresh  meat  were  brought  in  good  condition 
to  the  Emopean  market,  till  in  1879  Mr  J.  J.  Coleman 
inaugurated  a  new  era  by  the  introduction,  in  conjunction 
with  Mr  H.  Bell  and  Mr  J.  Bell,  of  his  Bell-Coleman  dry- 
air  refrigerator. 

In  the  Bell-Coleman  machine  atmospheric  air  is  compressed  to 
one-fourth  or  one-thiid  of  its  normal  bulk  in  an  air-pump. by 
means  of  a  steam  cylinder.  The  air  so  condensed  becomes  hot, 
and  is  cooled  by  injecting  water  into  the  air-compressor,  after 
which  it  is  still  further  reduced  in  temperature  and  freed  from 
moisture  by  passing  it  throu;;h  a  range  of  pipes  in  the  cold  air  of 
the  chamber  that  is  being  refrigerated.  Being  then  conveyed  to 
the  expanding  cylinder,  the  work  or  energy  it  contains  in  virtue 
of  its  compression  is  expended  in  moving  a  piston  which  forms  part 
of  the  machinery.  From  the  piston  the  air,  now  cooled  as  much 
as  50°  to  100°,  or  even  200°  Fahr.,  according  to  the  degree  of  com- 
pression to  whicli  it  has  been  subjected,  is  distributed  through  tlie 
cold  chamber  by  suitable  ]iipes.  Mr  A.  Sesle  Ilaslam  has  since 
brought  out  a  refrigerator  in  which  the  temperature  of  the  air  is 
lowered  by  passing  it  tlirough  pipes  cooled  externally,  instead  of 
by  injecting  water  into  the  tubes  containing  it. 

Numerous  other  machines  Lave  also  been  produced,  the 
]irinciple  and  action  of  which  are  illustrated  in  the  article 
Ice;,  vol.  xii.  p.  612.  By  means  first  of  the  Bell,-Colcman 
and  subsequently  of  the  Ilaslam  method,  fresh  meat  has 
been  regularly  imported  into  Europe  from  America  since 
March  1879,  when  the  Anchor  liner  "Circassia"  delivered 
the  first  cargo.  In  February  1880  the  first  shipment  from 
Australia,  consisting  of  34  tons  of  beef  and  mutton,  was 
delivered  in  London  by  the  "  Strathleven,"  and  in  Juno 
1882  the  sariling  ship  "Dunedin"  brought  from  New  Zea- 
land to  London,  after  a  passage  of  ninety-eight  days,  4909 
carca-scs  of  sheep  and  twenty-two  pigs,  all  in  perfect  con- 
dition, notwithstanding  the  prolonged  voyage  and  the  ex- 
cessive heat  encountered  during  the  j)assage.  The  dry-air 
refrigerators  have  also  been  largely  adopted  in  pa-ssengor 
and  emigrant  vessels  for  preserving  fresh  provisions  for 
daily  use  throughout  their  voyages,  and  preserving  cham- 
bers and  freezing  chambers  have  been  erected  on  land  at 
the  ports  of  lading  and  delivery.  Tlie  machinery  at  present 
in  use  is  cajiablc  of  freezing  upwards  of  300,000  tons  of 
meat  per  aiiiuun,  and  it  is  rapidly  being  added  to  ;  and  it 
may  be  .said  that  these  machines  have  accomplished  a 
perfect  solution  of  the  great  problem  of  fresh-meat  pre- 
servation and  distribution. 

Commerce. — It  is  impossible  to  tabulate  any  reliable  figures 
Matiug  to  the  trado  in  products  which  are  properly  classed  as 


preserved  food.  Within  the  first  five  years  in  which  the  Bell. 
Coleman  machine  was  in  use  there  were  brongbt  from  America  by 
its  agency  alone  563,568  quarters  of  beef  and  113,633  carcases  of 
mutton.  The  following  figures  illustrate  the  development  of  ths 
frozen-mutton  trade  from  the  great  sheep-growing  locaUties,  givine 
the  number  of  carcases  imported.  ' 


1881. 

1882. 

1883. 

1884. 

New  Zealand    

13J771 

8,840 
65,087 

98,754 
60,717 

398,859 
107,437 
64,369 

Kiver  Plate  

As  these  imports  bear  only  an  insignificant  relation  to  the  supplies 
which  might  be  drawn  from  the  several  countries  at  the  present 
moment,  it  is  obvious  that  a  most  important  factor  has  been  intro- 
duced into  the  meat  trado  which  wiU  exercise  a  powerful  influence 
on  the  markets.  ( j.  p^. ) 

PRESSBURG  (Hung.  PoMony,  Lat.  Posonium),  capital 
of  the  county  of  the  same  name  and  in  former  times  also 
of  the  country,  is  a  royal  free  town  in  Hungary,  situated 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  Danube,  in  48°  8'  N.  lat.  and  17°  6'. 
E.  long.  Pressburg  is  the  see  of  an  evangelical  bishop,' 
and  the  headquarters  of  one  of  the  fifteen  army-corps  of 
the  Austrian-Hungarian  army  and  of  a  honved  district ; 
its  civil  departments  include-  finance,  posts,  land-survey- 
ing, state  forestry,  public  instruction,  river  regulation,  and 
Government  buildings;  it  has  also  a  district  court  of  justice, 
a  superior  law  court,  and  a  chamber  of  trade  and  commerce. 
Among  its  numerous  educational  and  benevolent  institu- 
tions the  following  are  specially  worthy  of  mention — the 
academy  of  jurisprudence  and  philosophy,  a  Roman  Catholic 
upper  gymnasium,  an  evangelical  lyceum,  an  evangelical 
seminary,  an  upper  real  school,  a  Government  training 
school  for  governesses  and  another  of  midwifery,  schools 
of  music  and  drawing,  two  free  libraries,  a  lazaretto,  a 
lunatic  asylum,  six  hospitals,  two  workhouses,  two  public 
kitchens,  itc.  The  most  prominent  buildings  are — a  fine 
cathedral,  dating  from  the  Mth  century  (in  which  many  of 
the  Hungarian  kings  were  crowned),  twelve  other,Roman 
Catholic  churches,  two  evangelical  churches,  two  syna- 
gogues, the  ancient  town-hall,  the  parliament  house  (which 
served  for  this  purpose  until  1848),  the  now  uninhabited 
palace  of  the  archbishop  of  Esztergom  (Gran),  a  number  of 
palaces  of  nobles,  and  the  theatre.  On  the  Schlossbcrg  there 
stood  a  royal  castle  (destroyed  by  fire  in  1811),  which  was 
a  strong  fortress  during  the  wars  with  the  Turks.  The 
inhabitants  in  1881  numbered  48,32C,  of  whom  8000  were 
Protestants,  5000  Jews,  and  the  rest  Roman  Catholics;  as 
to  nationality,  30,000  were  Germans,  9000  Slavs,  and  the 
rest  (chiefly  the  upper  classes)  Hungarians.  The  inhabited 
houses  numbered  2015.  The  town  has  five  newspapers 
(three  in  Hungarian  and  two  in  German).  A  large  business 
is  carried  on  in  tobacco  and  cigars,  paper,  ribbons,  leather 
wares, '  chemicals,  liqueurs,  confectionery,  biscuits,  itc. 
There  is  also  a  good  trado  in  corn  and  wine.  The  Danube, 
here  of  considerable  width,  is  crossed  by  a  iwntoon  bridge. 
There  is  a  large  trafiic  by  water  with  both  Vienna  and 
Budapest.  Pressbtirg  is  the  terminus  of  the  Vale  of  VAg 
Railway  and  is  also  one  of  the  most  important  stations  on 
the  Austrian-Hungarian  State  Railway  system.  Although 
one  of  the  finest  towns  in  the  country,  its  chief  charm  is 
its  vicinity,  which  is  of  singular  beauty.  Eastwards  and 
southwards  stretches  a  long  fertile  plain,  whilst  to  the  north 
and  west  the  town  is  enclosed  by  the  lovely  hills  of  the 
Little  Carpathian  range. 

Little  is  known  of  the  carlyhistory  of  Prcisburg.  The  name  do€« 
not  occur  before  the  9lh  century.  In  1042  it  was  destroyoil  by  th» 
(iermans,  but  was  soon  afterwards  rebuilt  and  so  strongly  fortified 
that  it  sustained  two  other  attacks  and  was  not  taken  ag:iin  until 
1271.  From  its  strategic  situation  it  has  always  been  an  import- 
ant place.  WluMi  in  1541  Buda  was  taken  by  the  Turks,  I'rcssbui» 
bccnnio  the  Hungarian  capitnl,  place  of  coronation,  and  scat  of  all 
the  Government  olliccs,  and  it  remained  so  a  good  while  after  th* 
Turks  wero  drivon  from  tlio  country.     It  was  )>iro  that  tho  Austrinat 


710 


P  R  E  — P  R  E 


and  Hungarian  malcontents  concluded  the  treaty  with  Archduke 
Mattliias  against  Rudolf  II.  In  1619  Pressburg  was  taken  by  the 
Protestant  leader  Bethlen  Gabor;  but  it  was  recovered  by  the  im- 
perialists in  1621.  It  was  also  the  scene  of  that  memorable  session 
of  parliament,  16S7,  at  which  the  Hungarians  renounced  their  right 
of  choosing  their  king  and'accepted  the  hereditary  succession.  In 
1784  the  capital  was  removed  to  Buda.  Peace  was  made  here  be- 
tween Napoleon  and  Francis  I.  after  the  battle  of  Austerlitz,  26th 
December  1805,  and  in  1809  Davoust  bombarded  the  place  for  a 
whole  month.  It  continued  to  be  the  scat  of  parliament  until  1848, 
nnd  it  was  the  scene  of  the  great  reform  debates  during  the  session 
of  1847-48. 

PRESS  LAWS.  The  liberty  of  the  press  has  always 
been  regarded  by  modern  political  writers  as  a  matter  of 
supreme  importance.  "  Give  me  liberty  to  know,  to  utter, 
and  to  argue  freely  according  to  conscience,  above  all  other 
liberties,"  says  Milton  in  the  Areopagitica.  At  the  prosent 
day  the  liberty  of  the  press  in  English-speaking  countries 
is  (with  perhaps  the  single  exception  of  Ireland)  a  matter 
of  merely  historical  importance.  The  liberty  was  a  plant 
of  slow  growth.  Before  the  invention  of  printing  the  church 
assumed  to  control  the  expression  of  all  opinion  distastefvd 
to  her.  (See  Bibliogeaphy,  vol.  iii.  pp.  658,  659,  Index 
LiBRORUM  Prohibitorum,  Inquisition.)  The  authority 
of  parliament  was  invoked  in  England  to  aid  the  ecclesi- 
astical authority.  There  is  an  ordinance  as  early  as  1 382, 
5  Ric.  II.  St.  2,  c.  5  (not  assented  to  by  the  Commons, 
but  appearing,  upon  the  parliament  roll),  directed  against 
unlicensed  preachers.  After  the  invention  of  printing  the 
ecclesiastical  censorship  was  still  asserted,  but  only  as  col- 
lateral with  the  censorial  rights  of  the  crown,  claimed  by 
virtue  of  its  general  prerogative.  After  the  Reformation 
the  greater  part  of  the  rights  of  censorship  passed  to  the 
crown,  which  at  the  same  time  assumed  the  power  of  grant- 
ing by  letters  patent  the  right  of  printing  or  selling  books 
as  a  monopoly.  The  grant,  if  made  to  the  authpr  himself, 
was  an  eqtiivalent  of  copyright ;  if  made  to  a  person  other 
than  the  author,  it  seems  to  have  always  been  subject  to 
the  author's  copyright  as  it  existed  at  common  law. 

Censorship  was  either  restrictive  or  corrective,  i.e.,  it 
interfered  to  restrict  or  prevent  publication,  or  it  enforced 
penalties  after  publication.  Repression  of  free  discussion 
was  regarded  as  so  necessary  a  part  of  government  that 
Sir  Thomas  More  in  his  Utopia  makes  i^  punishable  with 
death  for  a  private  individual  to  criticize  the  conduct  of 
the  ruling  power.  Under  Mary  printing  was  confined  to 
members  of  the  Stationers'  Company,  founded  by  royal 
charter  in  1556.  Under  Elizabeth  the  Star  Chamber,  the 
great  censorial  authority  of  the  Tudor  period,  assumed  the 
right  to  confine  printing  to  London,  Oxford,  and  Cam- 
bridge, to  limit  the  number  of  printers  and  presses,  to 
prohibit  all  publications  issued  without  proper  licence, 
and  to  enter  houses  to  search  for  tinlicensed  presses  and 
publications  (Order  of  1585,  Strype'  ^Whitgift,  App.  94). 
The  search  for  unlicensed  presses,  or  publications  was 
entrusted  to  an  officer  called  the  "messenger  of  the 
press."  The  Stuart  kings  followed  the  example  of  their 
predecessors.  Thus  in  1637  was  issued  a  stringent  order 
of  the  Star  Chamber  forbidding  the  importation  'of  books 
printed  abroad  to  the  scandal  of  religion  or  the  church 
or  the  Government,  and  the  printing  of  any  book  not 
first  lawfully  licensed.  Law  books  were  to  be  licensed" 
by  one  of  the  chief  justices  or  the  chief  baron,  books  of 
history  and  state  affairs  by  one  of  the  secretaries  of  state, 
of  heraldry  by  the  earl  marshal,  of  divinity,  philosophy, 
poetry,  and  other  subjects  by  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury 
or  the  bishop  of  London,  or  the  chancellors  or  vice-chan- 
cellors of  the  universities.  There  were  to  be  only  twenty 
master  printers  and  four  letter-founders.  The  punishment 
was  at  the  discretion  of  the  court  (Rushworth,  Historical 
Collections,  vol.  iii.,  App.  306).  The  same  principle  of 
j.ress  restriction  was  carried,  out  by  the  Long  Parliament 


after  the  abolition  of  the  Star  Chamber,  and  it  was  an  ordli 
nance  of  that  body  issued  in  1643  that  called  forth  JkOlton'a 
A  reopagitica,  a  Speech  for  the  Liberty  of  Unlicensed  Printing, 
itself,  an  unlicense>^  book.  The  parliament  appointed 
committees  for  printing,  who  appointed  licensers,  bit  the 
licensing  was  really  left  in  a  great  measure  to  the  wardens 
of  the  Stationers'  Company.  At  the  Restoration  Sir  John 
Birkenhead  acted  as  licenser,  appointed  apparently  under 
the  general  prerogative.  It  was,  no  doubt,  too,  under 
the  general  prerogative  that  Charles  II.,  by  a  proclamation 
in  1660,  called  in  and  suppressed  Milton's  Defensio  pro 
Popxdo  Anglicanoi  Then  followed  the  Licensing  Act  of 
1662  (13  and  14  Car.  II.  c.  33),  limited  to  two  years.  The 
provisions  as  to  importation  of  books,  the  appointment  of 
licensers,  and  the  number  of  printers  and  founders  were 
practically^  re-enactments  of  th'e  similar  provisions  in  the 
Star  Chamber  order  of  1 637.  Printing  presses  were  not  to 
be  set  up  without  notice  to  the  Stationers'  Qpmpany.  A 
king's  messenger  had  power  by  warrant  of  the  king  or  a 
secretary  of  state  to  enter  and  search  for  imlicensed  presses 
and  printing.  Severe  penalties  by  fine  and  imprisonment 
were  denounced  against  offenders.  The  Act  was  success- 
ively renewed  up  to,  1679.  Under  the  powers  of  the  Act 
Sir  Roger  L'Estrange  was  appointed  licenser,  and  the  effect 
of  the  supervision  was  that  practically  the  newspaper  press 
was  reduced  to  the  London  Gazette.  (See  Newspapers, 
vol.  xvii.  pp.  414,  415.).  The  objections  made  to  lines  594- 
599  of  the  first  book  of  Paradise  Lost  by  the  archbishop  of 
Canterbury's  chaplain,  acting  as  licenser,  are  well  known. 
The  Act  expired  in  1679,  and  for  the  remainder  of  the 
reign  of  Charles  II.,  as  in  the  reign  of  George  III.,  the 
restrictions  on  the  press  took  the  form  of  prosecutions  for 
libel.  The  twelve  judges  resolved  in  1680  "that  all 
persons  that  do  wiite  or  print  or  sell  any  pamphlet  that 
is  either  scandalous  to  public  or  private  persons,  such 
books  may  be  seized  and  the  person  punished  by  law ;  that 
all  books  which  are  scandalous  to  the  Government  may  be 
seized,  and  all  persons  so  exposing  them  may  be  punished. 
And  further,  that  all  writers  of  news,  though  not  scan- 
dalous, seditious,  nor  reflective  upon  the  Government  or 
the  state,  yet,  if  they  are  writers  (as  there  are  few  else)  of 
false  news,  they  are  indictable  and  punishable  upon  that 
account"  (Harris's  case.  State  Trials,  vii.  929).  In  1685 
the  Licensing  Act  was  renewed  for  seven  years  (1  Jac.  II. 
c.  8,  §  1 5).  No  mention  of  the  liberty  of  the  press  was 
made  in  the  Bill  of  Rights.  On  the  expiration  of  the 
Licensing  Act  in  1692  it  was  continued  till  the  end  of  the 
existing  session  of  parliament  (4  and  5  Will,  and  Mary,  c. 
24,  §  14).  In  1695  the  Commons  refused  to  renew  it.  The 
immediate  effect  of  this  was  to  lay  authors  open  to  the 
attacks  of  literary  piracy,  and  in  1709  the  first  Copyright 
Act  (8  Anne,  c.  19)  was  enacted  for  their  protection.  The 
power  of  a  secretary  of  state  to  issue  a  warrant,  whether 
general  or  special,  for  the  purpose  of  searching  for  and 
seizing  the  author  of  a  libel  or  the  libellous  papers  them- 
selves— a  power  exercised  by  the  Star  Chamber  and  con- 
firnied  by  the  Licensing  Act — was  still  asserted,  and  was 
not  finally  declared  illegal  until  the  case  of  Entick  v.  Car- 
rington  in  1765  {State  Trials,  six.  1030).  In  1776  the. 
House  of  Commons  came  to  a  resolution  in  accordance 
with  this  decisioL  The  compulsory  stamp  duty  on  news-; 
papers  was  abandoned  in  1855  (18  Vict.  c.  27),  the  duty 
on  paper  in  1861  (24  Vict.  c.  20),  the,  optional  duty  oa 
newspapers  in  1870  (33  and  34  Vict.  c.  38).  From  that 
time  the  English  press  may  be  said  to  date  its  complete 
freedom,  which  rests  rather  upon  a  constitutional  than  a 
legal  foundation.  It  is  not  confirmed  by  any  provision 
of  the  supreme  legislative  authority,  as  is  the  case  in 
many  countries.  A  declaration  in  favour  of  the  liberty 
of  the  press  is  usually  a  prominent  feature  in  the  writtea 


PRESS     LAWS 


711 


constitutions  of  foreign  states.  Its  legal  aspect  in  Jingland 
cannot  be  better  expressed  than  in  the  words  of  Lord 
Wyiiford  : — 

My  opinion  of  the  liberty  of  the  press  is  that  every  man  ought 
to  be  permitted  to  instruct  his  fellow  -  subjects  ;  that  every  man 
may  fearlessly  advance  any  new  doctrines,  provided  he  docs  so  with 
proper  respect  to  the  religion  •  and  govemmeiit  of  the  country  ;  that 
Le  may  point  out  errors  in  the  measures  of  public  men,  but  he  must 
not  impute  criminal  conduct  to  them.  The  liberty  of  the  press 
cannot  be  carried  to  this  extent  without  violating  another  equally 
sacred  right,  the  right  of  character.  This  right  can  only  be  attacked 
in  a  court  of  justice,  where  the  party  attacked  has  a  fair  opportimity 
of  defending  himself.  Where  vituperation  begins,  the  liberty  of 
the  press  ends  "  (Rei  v.  Burdett,  Baruewall  and  Alderson's  Reports, 
iv.  132). 

The  few  existing  restrictions  on  the  liberty  of  the  press 
are  presumed  to  be  imposed  for  the  public  benefit.  They 
are  in  some  cases  of  great  historical  interest.  The  rights 
of  private  persons  are  in  general  sufficiently  protected  in 
one  direction  by  the  law  of  Libel  (q.v.),  in  another  by  the 
law  of  CopyRioHT  (q.v.),  while  the  criminal  law  provides 
for  the  cases  of  press  ofiTences  against  morality,  public 
justice,  &c.  Thus  the  courts  have  power  to  punish  sum- 
marily as  a  contempt  the  publication  of  comments  upon 
proceedings  sub  judice  or  reflexions  upon  the  conduct  of 
judicial  officers.  (See  Contempt  of  Court.)  The  last 
relic  of  the  censorship  before  publication  is  to  be  found  in 
the  licensing  of  stage  plays.  By  6  and  7  Vict.  c.  68  no 
new  plays  or  additions  to  old  plays  can  be  acted  for  hire 
at  any  theatre  in  Great  Britain  until  they  have  been  sub- 
mitted to  the  lord  chamberlain,  who  may  forbid  any  play 
,or  any  part  of  a  play.  The  penalty  for  acting  a  play 
before  it  has  been  allowed  or  after  it  has  been  disallowed 
is  a  sum  not  exceeding  £50  for  every  offence  and  the  for- 
feiture of  the  licence  of  the  theatre  in  which  the  offence 
occurred.  This  jurisdiction  is  exercised  by  an  official  of 
the  lord  chamberlain's  department  called  the  "examiner 
of  stage  plays."  The  last  relic  of  the  monopoly  of  print- 
ing formerly  granted  to  licensees  of  the  crown  is  found  in 
the  exclusive  right  of  the  queen's  printer  and  the  univer- 
sities of  Oxford  and  Cambridge  to  print  the  Bible  ^  and 
the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  and  of  the  queen's  printer 
to  print  Acts  of  parliament  and  other  state  documents. 
The  privileges  of  the  universities  are  confirmed  by  13  Eliz. 
c.  29.  The  rights  of  the  queen's  printer  are  protected  by 
severe  penalties.  A  maximum  term  of  seven  years'  penal 
servitude  is  incurred  by  any  person  who  prints  any  Act  of 
parliament  or  other  Government  document,  falsely  pur- 
porting to  be  printed  by  the  queen's  printer  or  under  the 
authority  of  Her  Majesty's  stationery  office  (8  and  9  Vict. 
c.  113 ;  45  Vict.  c.  9).  The  rights  of  the  printers  of  the 
journals  of  either  House  of  parliament  are  protected  by 
8  and  9  Vict.  c.  113.  The  publication  of  parliamentary 
debates  in  any  form  by  any  other  persons  than  the  printers 
of  the  journals  of  the  two  Houses  is  still  in  theory  a  breach 
of  privilege,  but  in  practice  they  have  been  fully  reported 
since  1771.  The  other  restrictions  upon  the  press  are  to 
a  great  extent  those  imposed  for  police  purposes.  By  32 
and  33  Vict.  c.  24  (confirming  in  part  previous  enactments 
applying  to  Great  Britain)  the  printer  of  any  paper  or 
book  for  profit  is  required  under  penalties  to  print  thereon 
his  name  and  address  or  tlie  name  of  a  university  press, 
and  is  to  keep  a  copy  of  everything  printed,  with  a  few 
exceptions.  Penalties  must  be  sued  for  within  three 
months,  and  no  proceeding  for  penalties  can  be  commenced 

■  This  is  to  be  read  subject  to  the  remark  of  Lord  Coleri<Ij5e  that 
the  application  of  the  principles  of  law  is  to  bo  changed  with  the 
changing  circumstances  of  the  timo  (Reg. ».  Ramsay,  in  Cox's  Criminal 
Cases,  IV.  235).  What  waj  blasphemous  in  law  a  hundred  years  ago 
is  not  necessarily  so  now. 

'  The  monopoly  of  the  queen's  printer  does  aot  eitend  to  any  trans- 
lation other  than  the  authorized  version,  and  not  to  that  if  it  be 
accomp.-iiiied  by  new  notes  or  margin''  readincs. 


unless  in  tae  name  of  the  attorney -general  or  solicitor, 
general  of  England  or  the  lord  advocate  of  Scotland.  By 
the  Newspaper  Libel  and  Registration  Act,  1881  (44  and 
45  Vict.  c.  60,  which  applies  to  England  and  Ireland, 
but  not  to  Scotland),  newspaper  proprietors  are,  except 
in  the  case  of  joint-stock  companies,  to  be  registered  and 
to  make  annual  returns  of  the  title  of  the  newspaper  and 
the  names  of  all  the  proprietors,  with  their  occupations, 
places  of  business,  and  places  of  residence.  By  the  Corrupt 
Practices  Prevention  Acts,  1883  and  1884  (46  and  47 
Vict.  c.  51,  s.  18,  and  47  and  48  Vict.  c.  70,  s.  14),  the 
name  and  address  of  the  printer  must  be  printed  on  all 
bills,  placards,  &c.,  referring  to  a  parliamentary  or  muni- 
cipal election.  By  6  and  7  Vict.  c.  68,  s.  7,  the  name 
and  place  of  abode  of  a  manager  of  a  theatre  are  to  be 
printed  on  ever)'  play-bill  announcing  a  representation  at 
such  theatre.  Offences  against  decency  by  the  press  are 
provided  for  by  20  and  21  Vict.  c.  83,  25  and  26  Vict, 
c.  101,  s.  251  (for  Scotland),  and  2  and  3  Vict.  c.  47,  s. 
54  (for  the '  metropolis).  The  importation  of  obscene 
literature  into  the  United  Kingdom  is  forbidden  by  39 
and  40  Vict.  c.  36,  s.  42.  By  the  Larceny  Act,  1861, 
any  person  who  prints  or  publishes  an  advertisement 
offering  a  reward  for  the  return  of  stolen  goods  with- 
out questions  asked  is  subject  to  a  penalty  (24  and 
25  Vict.  c.  96,  s.  102).  This  penalty  cannot,  however, 
be  sued  for  without  the  sanction  of  the  attorney- general 
or  solicitor-general  of  England  or  Ireland  (33  and  34  Vict, 
c.  65).  The  advertisement  in  the  United  Kingdom  of 
foreign  or  illegal  lotteries  is  prohibited  by  6  and  7  Will. 
IV.  c.  66,  betting  advertisements  by  IB  and  17  Vict, 
c.  119,  s.  7,  and  37  Vict.  c.  15. 

The  right  of  an  author  or  publisher  to  the  full  profits 
of  his  undertaking  was  at  one  time  restricted  by  the  Copy- 
right Act  of  Anne  (8  Anne,  c.  19,  s.  4),  by  which  the  arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  and  other  authorities  were  empowered 
to  lower  the  price  of  a  book  upon  complaint  that  the  price 
was  unreasonable.  The  only  restriction  of  the  kind  now 
existing  is  the  obligation  of  delivering  (without  request) 
to  the  British  Museum  a  copy  of  any  work  published 
within  the  United  Kingdom,  and  of  delivering  (on  request) 
copies  for  the  use  of  the  university  libraries  at  Oxford 
and  Cambridge,  the  library  of  the  faculty  of  advocates  at 
Edinburgh,  and  the  library  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin 
(5  and  6  Vict.  c.  45,  s.s.  6-10). 

Scotland. — Printing  became,  as  in  England,  a  royal 
monopoly.  The  exclusive  right  of  printing  was  granted 
by  James  IV.  to  Walter  Chepman,  who  printed  the  first 
book  in  Scotland.  The  monopoly  of  printing  Acts  of  the 
Scottish  parliament  was  granted  by  James  V.  to  the  printer 
chosen  by  the  clerk  register  and  specially  licensed  by  the 
king  (1540,  c.  127).  Printers  are  forbidden  by  1551,  c. 
27,  to  print,  whether  in  Latin  or  English,  without  licence 
from  ordinaries  deputed  in  that  behalf  by  the  crown.  No 
book  treating  of  religion  or  of  the  kirk  was  to  be  printed 
without  a  licence  from  the  general  assembly  (1646,  c.  164), 
or  of  the  kingdom  without  a  licence  from  one  of  the  judges 
or  the  secretary  (c.  165).  The  council  were  empowered  to 
prohibit  presses  at  their  discretion  by  the  order  of  30th 
March  1655.  The  importation  of  "famous"  books  and 
libels  in  defence  of  the  pope  was  prohibited  by  1581,  c. 
1 06.  Press  offences  were  treated  with  the  utmost  severity. 
By  1585,  c.  1,  the  author  of  a  libellous  writing  against 
the  king  was  punishable  with  death.  It  is  scarcely  neces- 
sary to  say  that  since  the  Union  the  press  of  Scotland  has 
enjoyed  no  less  lilierty  than  that  of  England. 

In  the  case  of  Bibles,  Old  and  New  Testaments,  Psalm 
Books,  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  the  Confession  of 
Faith,  and  the  Larger  and  Shorter  Catechisms  a  licence 
for  printing  is  still  required.     The  licensing  authority  is 


712 


PRESS      LAWS 


the  lord  advocate,  but  aU  proposed  publications  are  sub- 
mitted for  approval  to  the  body  officially  known  as  "  Her 
Majesty's  sole  and  only  Master  Printers  in  Scotland,"  con- 
sisting of  the  lord  advocate,  the  solicitor -general,  the 
moderator  of  the  general  assembly,  and  four  other  mem- 
bers. A  licence  is  also  required  for  printing  Acts  of  parlia- 
ment; but  a  general  licence  granted  in  1848  to  a  firm  of 
printers  in  Edinburgh  is  still  operative,  and  their  publi- 
cations are  not  submitted  for  approval.  As  its  work  is 
practically  confined  to  Bibles  and  the  other  religious  publi- 
cations enumerated,  the  above-mentioned  body  commonly 
receives  the  name  of  the  Bible  Board. 

Ireland.— This  is  the  only  part  of  the  United  Kingdom 
in  which  the  press  cannot  be  said  to  be  free.  The  policy 
of  successive  Governments  has  generally  been  in  favour  of 
restrictions.  By  the  Prevention  of  Crime  Act,  1882  (45 
and  46  Vict,  c,  25),  the  lord-lieutenant  was  empowered  to 
order  the  seizure  of  any  newspaper  appearing  to  contain 
matter  inciting  to  the  commission  of  treason  or  of  any  act 
of  violence  or  intimidation  (§  13).  He  may  also  by  war- 
rant direct  the  search  for  and  seizure  of  any  papers  or 
documents  suspected  to  be  used  or  to  be  intended  to  be 
used  for  the  purpose  of  or  in  connexion  with  any  secret 
fiociety  existing  for  criminal  purposes  (§  14). 

United  StaUs. 

The  constitutions  of  Pennsylvania,  Delaware,  Maryland, 
and  North  Carolina,  all  enacted  in  1776,  are  interesting 
as  containing  the  earliest  declarations  of  any  legislative 
authority  in  favour  of  the  liberty  of  the  press.  The  same 
I)rinciple  was  afterwards  adopted  in  the  constitution  of  the 
United  States.  By  art.  i.  of  the  amended  constitution, 
"  Congress  shall  make  no  law  .  .  .  abridging  the  freedom 
of  speech  or  of  the  press."  Art.  iv.  secures  against 
■warrants  for  the  seizure  of  papers,  except  on  probable 
cause  supported  by  oath  or  affirmation  and  particularly 
describing  the  thing  to  be  seized.  The  constitution  of 
Louisiana  is  that  in  which  the  right  of  liberty  of  the 
press  is  declared  with  the  greatest  minuteness.  By  art. 
vL  s.  21  of  the  constitution  of  that  State,  "Printing 
presses  shall  be  free  to  every  person  who  undertakes  to 
examine  the  proceedings  of  the  legislature  or  any  branch 
of  the  government,  and  no  law  shall  ever  be  made  to 
restrain  the  right  thereof.  The  free  communication  of 
thoughts  and  opinions  is  one  of  the  invaluable  rights  of 
man,  and  every  citizen  may  freely  speak,  write,  and  print 
on  any  subject,  being  responsible  for  the  abuse  of  that 
liberty,"  The  Acts  of  Congress  dealing  with  the  press  are 
not  numerous,  as  each  State  has  for  the  most  part  its  own 
legislation  on  the  subject,  dealing  generally  with,  among 
other  matters,  the  registration  of  newspapers,  the  monopoly 
of  the  State  printer,  and  the  right  of  giving  the  truth  in 
evidence  in  defence  to  proceedings  for  libel.  The  Act  of 
18th  August  1856  forbids  diplomatic  or  consular  officers 
of  the  United  States  to  correspond  with  any  foreign  news- 
paper in  regard  to  the  afiairs  of  a  foreign  state.  The  Act 
of  3d  March  1873  prohibits  the  printing  and  circulation 
of  obscene  literature.  By  the  Act  of  23d  June  1860  the 
congressional  printer  has,  except  where  otherwise  provided 
by  law,  the  monopoly  of  printing  for  the  Senate  or  House 
of  Representatives  and  the  executive  and  judicial  depart- 
ments. State  prosecutions  for  seditious  libel  were  not 
infrequent  in  the  early  years  of  the  republic ;  examples 
Will  be  found  m  Wharton's  State  Trials. 

Press  Laws  in  the  British  Colonies  and  India. 
Colonies. — la  the  British  colonies  the  press  is  as  free  as  it  is  in 
England.  Each  colony  has  its  special  legislation  on  the  subject 
for  police  and  revenue  purposes.  Where^there  is  a  Government 
printer,  his  nionopol_v  is  protected  by  tlie  Documentary  Evidence 
\<:t,  1S63  (31  and  Z2  Vict.  c.   37),  which  imposes  a  maximum 


penalty  of  five  years'  penal  servitude  upon  any  person  printing  ■ 
copy  of  any  proclamation,  order,  or  regulation  which  falsely  pur- 
ports to  have  been  printed  by  the  Government  printer,  or  to  bo 
printed  under  the  authority  of  the  legislature  of  any  British  colony 
or  possession.  The  Act  is,  however,  subject  to  any  law  made  by 
the  colonial  legislature. 

India. — During  the  governor-generalship  of  Lord  Lytton  was 
passed  the  "  Act  for  the  better  control  of  publications  in  Oriental 
languages,"  Act  ix.  of  1878.  (1)  By  this  Act  copies  of  newspapers 
published  out  of  British  India  are  liable  to  forfeiture  and  seizure 
by  warrant  throughout  the  whole  of  British  India  if  the  papers 
"  contain  any  words,  signs,  or  visible  representations  likely  to  excite 
disaffection  to  the  Government  established  by  law  in  British  India, 
or  antipathy  between  any  persons  of  different  races,  castes,  religions, 
or  sects  in'  British  India."  The  governor-general  may,  by  noti- 
fication in  the  Gazette  of  India,  exclude  newspapers,  books,  &c., 
from  British  India.  (%)  In  places  to  which  the  Act  is  extended 
by  order  of  the  governor-general  in  council,  a  magistrate  may 
require  the  printer  and  publisher  of  a  newspaper  to  enter  into  a 
bond,  with  a  deposit,  not  to  publish  a  newspaper  containing  "any 
words,  signs,"  &c.  (as  in  1),  or  to  u§e  or  attempt  to  use  it  for  the 
purpose  of  extortion  or  threat.  The  consequences  of  offending  are 
forfeiture  of  the  deposit,  papers,  press,  &c.  Books  used  for  the 
illegal  purposes  above-mentioned  are  subject  to  forfeiture,  but  no 
bond  or  deposit  is  required  previous  to  publication  of  books,  as 
in  the  case  of  newspapers. 

Foreign  Press  Laws. 
Liberty  of  the  press  is  the  rule  in  most  European  states.  This 
liberty  is  in  almost  every  case  secured  by  a  constitution  or  organic 
law,  the  earliest  being  those  of  Sweden  and  Spain  in  1812.  In 
some  states  there  is  a  tax  upon  newspapers  and  advertisements  ; 
in  others,  as  in  Sweden  and  Norway,  there  is  none.  In  most  states 
there  is  a  Government  official  newspaper,  and  a  Government  printer, 
enjoying  peculiar  privileges.^ 

Aiistria-Hungary. — Restraints  upon  the  press  were  formerly  very 
stiingcnt,  especially  in  the  Italian  provinces.  Severe  penalties 
against  unlicensed  printing  were  denounced  by  the  penal  code  of 
1808.  For  a  second  offence  the  offender  was  forbidden  to  deal  in 
books.  Private  printing  presses  were  forbidden  under  a  fine  of  500 
florins.  Inciting  to  emigration  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
press  offences  contained  in  this  code.  Two  censors  of  the  press  were 
appointed  in  1810.  Booksellers  were  put  under  police  supervision 
in  Hungary  in  1847.  In  1848  the  press  became  free  for  a  time,  until 
a  restrictive  law  was  again  imposed  in  1852.  Strict  censorship  ceased 
in  1863.  By  the  funcfamental  law  concerning  the  rights  of  citizens, 
21st  December  1867,  art.  13,  every,  one  has  the  right  of  freely  ex- 
pressing his  thoughts  by  the  press  within  the  limits  imposed  by 
law.  'The  press  cannot  be  controlled  by  censorship,  or  restrained 
by  the  system  of  authorization.  Administrative  and  postal  inter- 
diction is  never  to  extend  to  matters  printed  in  the  realm.  By  the 
law  of  the  same  date  on  judicial  authority,  art.  11,  press  offences 
ore  to  be  tried  by  jurj'.  The  constitution  of  1867  (on  the  basis  of 
that  proposed  in  1848)  secures  liberty  of  the  press  in  Hungary. 

Belgium.  —  It  was  the  prosecution  of  political  writers  by  the 
Dutch  Government  that  directly  led  to  the  independence  of  Belgium 
in  1830.  By  the  Belgian  constitution  of  7th  February  1831,  art. 
18,  it  is  declared  that  the  press  is  free,  that  censorship  shall  never 
again  be  established,  that  sureties  cannot  be  exacted  from  writers, 
editors,  or  printers,  and  that  when  the  author  is  known  and  domi- 
ciled in  Belgium  the  printer  or  bookseller  cannot  be  prosecuted.  By 
art.  98  press  offences  are  to  be  tried  by  jury.  The  penal  law  of  the 
press  is  contained  in  the  decree  of  20th  July  1831,  made  perpetual 
in  1833.  By  this  law  it  is  made  an  offence,  apart  from  the  penal 
code,  (1)  to  incite  to  the  commission  of  a  crime  by  placards  or  printed 
writings  in  a  public  meeting  ;  (2)  to  attack  the  obligatory  force  of 
the  laws,  or  to  incite  to  disobedience  of  them  ;  (3)  to  attack  the 
constitutional  authority  or  inviolability  of  the  king,  the  constitu- 
tional authority  of  the  dynasty,  or  the  authority  and  rights  of  the 
chambers.  Every  copy  of  a  journal  must  bear  the  name  of  the 
printer  and  the  indication  of  his  domicile  in  Belgium.  Proceedings 
for  offences  against  the  law  must  be  taken  in  some  cases  within 
three  months,  in  others  within  a  year. 

Brazil. — By  art.  179  of  the  constitution  of  1824  every  one  ia 
entitled  to  express  his  thoughts  by  words  and  wTitings  and  publish 
them  in  print  without  liability  to  censure,  but  he  is  answerable  for 
abuses  committed  in  the  exercise  of  this  right. 

(In  most,  if  not  all,  of  the  Central  and  South  American  republics 
liberty  of  the  press  is  one  of  the  rights  secured  by  the  constitution. 
Thus  in  Chili  it  is  secured  by  the  constitution  of  1833,  in  the 
Argentine  Republic  by  that  of  1860.) 

Denmark.  — Press  offences  were  at  one  time  punished  with  great 
severity.  By  the  code  of  Christian  V.  (1683)  libel  was  punished 
with  infamy  and  hard  labour  for  life,  and,  if  against  a  magistrate,, 

'  The  writer  wishes  to  take  this  opportunity  of  acknowleiiging  th» 
assistance  rendered  him  by  representatives  of  several  foreign  Goveru-* 
ments. 


PRESS     LAWS 


713 


rith  death.  Censorship  was  abolished  and  the  press  docUred  free 
i^  art  85  of  tlie  constitution  granted  by  Frederick  Vil  on  6tli 
June  1849,  and  confirmed  by  Christian  IX.  in  1866  Art.  81  or- 
bXthe  search  for  or  seizure  of  printed  matter  m  a  dwelling-house. 

"t'^'-CctCmt^Wn  early  to  i-pose  etnngent  re- 
.tr^tl^^s  upon  printing.     An  edict  of  Henrf  if  "L^.^S^^^f^i  ' 
Kunishable  with  death  to  print  without  authonty.     Ihe  universiiy 
S"  Paris  originally  claimed  the  right  of  licensing  new  theolo^cal 
works   a  junsdiction  vested  in  the  crown  by  »"  "^/'"'"'J^  "^  "^!, 
nH-.r,nA<:  affainst  religion  were  severely  punished  by  the  secular 
SiSes^    Thus  t^  P"'-'"-'^  of  ^oSlouse  sent  Vanin.  to   h^ 
t^ke  inl619  for  the  crime  of  publishing  a  heretical  work.     A  few 
!^rg   ater  in  1626,  Cardinal  Richelieu  declared  it  a  capital  offence 
rDubliTh  a  work  against  religion  or  the  state      In  H'^S  «PP'=-",^ 
a  reWion  forbidding  any  bul  licensed  booksellers  to  deal  in  books. 
Manv  later  regulations  were  directed  against  unlicensed  presses, 
&ploym'ent"of  more  than  a  cerUin  number  o    workmen   Uc. 
At  the  Revolution  all  these  restrictions  were  abolished,  and  the 
^embly  declared  it  to  be  the  right  of  every  citizen  to  print  and 
™bHsh  his  opinions.     This  new  liberty  quickly  needed  a  check 
Thichw^  attempted  as  early  as  1791,  but  no  effectual  restraint 
:^1mp"  ed  nnfil  the  law  ^f  5th  February  1810  estabhsh^  a 
direction  of  the  press.     The  charter  of  Louis  XVIII.  in  1814  gave 
K  to  the  press  in  express  terms,  but  restrictions  soon  followed 
In  1819  a  system  of  sureties  {cauimneme,Us)  replaced  the  censor- 
Ihip      The  Revolution  of  1830  was  caused  by,  in(.r  c^ha,  one  o     he 
oXances   of  St  Cloud  {25th  July  1830)  for  suspension  of  the 
?^berty  of  the  press.     Restrictions  on  the  liberty  were  removed  for 
the  tfme    n  1830  and  1852,  only  to  be  succeeded  as  usual  by  the 
press  iTws  of  1835  and  1852.     During  the  second  empire  Govern- 
K  prosecutions  for  Ubel  were  used  as  a  powerfu   engine  agamst 
the  nress      The  proceedings  against  Montalembert  in  1858  are  a 
lell-Kn    nstance.     Between  1858  and  1866  many  newspapers 
were^P^ied  by  proclamation.     With  the  republic  liberty  of 
The  prTs^'laf  complet^ely  re-established      A  decree  of  2    h  October 
1870  submitted  press  offences  to  tnal  by  jury.'     The  law  of  29th 
Jii  Y  1881.  by  which  the  French  press  is  now  regulated   begins  by 
inserting  the  liberty  of  the  press  and  of  bookselling.     The  pnnc.pa 
Umifat°fns  of  this  liberty  ire  the  prohibition  to  publish  cnm.na 
rrMeed°ngs  before  hearing  in  public,  or  lists  of  subscriptions  for 
LdeSng  an  accused  person,  and  the  power  of  forbidding  the 
mU^e  of  foreign  newspapers  under  certain  circumstances    see 
to    xvU   P   ^27)     The  older  of  responsibility  for  printed  matter 
fa   1)  the  manag  r  or  editor.  f2)  the  author,  (3)  the  printer.  (4   the 
Tendor  or  distrilitor.     Proceedings  for  breaches  of  tlie  law  must  be 
taken  vrithin  three  months.      As  to  taxation,  the  decree  of  6th 
foptomber  1870  abolished  the  stamp  duty  upon  newspapers,  but  it 
fa  S  in^posed  upon  public  notices  {aj/iches)  other  than  those  of 
public  auXrities.^  None  but  the  notices  of  public  authorities  may 

*"o';Jt1r-C-o'r;was  introduced  by  the  diet  of  Spires  in 
1529  From  that  time  till  1848  there  were  numerous  restnctions 
on  the  liberty  of  the  press.  One  of  the  most  imporUnt  was  a 
^solution  oFtla  diet  of  20th  September  1819,  by  "bich  newspapers 
were  subject  to  licence  and  police  supervision  in  each  state.  Libei  ty 
ZZ  as  in  Austria  and  Italy,  from  1848.  Soon  after  that  year, 
howe'ver.  it  became  necessary  to  establish  press  laws  in  most  of  the 
German  states,  as  in  Bavaria  in  1850,  Prussia  and  Baden  in  1851 

Binca  the  establishment  of  the  new  «"?P"-o  ,<=tr"'''P.,^'TlS7n 
appeared.     By  art.  74  of  the  constitution  of  the  empire  (1871) 
S^eCone  atUcking  the  empire  or  iU  officers  through  the  press  s 
S  to  punishment  in  his  own  state.     By  art   4  tlie  la-  re  a^ 
ine  to  the  press  are  under  imperial  and  not  local  control     The  press 
aw  of  7th  May  1374  is  therefore  in  force  throughout  the  whole 
.nTuire      At  its  beginning  it  affirms  the  liberty  of  the  press.     Its 
mafnprovtionsare^hese.^   The  name  and  address  of  the  printer 
mult  appear  on  all  printed  matter.     Newspapers  and  penodica h 
must  in  addition  bear  the  name  of  some  one  person,  domiciled  in 
Srempire.  as  responsible  editor,  and  a  copy  of  every  number  mus 
be  deposited  with  the  police  authorities  of  the  district  in  which  it 
fa  publ  shed.     Foreign V-riodicals  may  bo  excluded  by  Proclamation 
of  the  imperial  chancellor  for  two  years,  if  twice  witinn  the  year 
they  have  been  guilty  of  certain  offences  against  the  penal  code. 
Criminal  proceedings  are  not  to  be  reported  while  still  ^*  ;«/'«• 
The  order  of  responsibility  for  offences  is  the  same  as  in  trance 
Proceedings  must  be  taken  within  six  months.     In  cor  ain  case 
printed  matter  may  be  seized  without  the  order  of  a  <^o«f':  J '''' 
may  take  pbco  where  (1)  the  publication  does  not;  bear  the  name  of 
printer  or  editor.  (2)  military  secrets  are  revealed  in  time  of  war,  (3) 
justice  would  be  defeated  by  the  publication  not  being  i.nmedmtely 
Bcized.     A  judicial  tribunal  is  to  decide  at  one- upon  the  Ingality  ol 
the  seizure.    The  press  law  is  not  to  affect  regulations  made  in    inio 
cf  war  or  internal  distuibancc.     A  tcmpbrary  law  passed  in  187S 
gave  the  police  largo  powers  in  the  case  of  socialistic  puhlicntions. 

■  8fo  V>Moi.  Juri^,ud.nci  Uiniral,.  ..v.  "iTeMO":  1.1..  Tillu  AlpKMllqut.. 
I84i  JZ.  M.V.  "  PrMsc." 


Oreece  -The  constitution  of  Epidauras.  Ist  January  1822  did 
no^  pelially  mention,  though  no  doubt  it  implied,  liberty  of  the 
press  Under  Otho  censorship  was  exercised  up  to  1844.  By  the 
institution  of  18th  March  1844  every  o-\^^y  ^.""^^^^^^ 
thoughts  by  means  of  the  press,  observing  the  laws  of  the  stat*. 
The  press  fa  free,  and  censorship  (X»>o«piWa)  is  not  permitted. 
Responsible  editors,  publfahers.  and  printers  of  newspapers  are  not 
required  ti  deposit' money  on  the  ground  of  surety.  Publishers  of 
Spapers  must  be  Greek  citizens,  art.  10.  The  legrsUture  ma, 
exclude  reporters  from  its  sittings  in  certain  cases,  art.  48  1  rea 
offences  are  to  be  tried  by  jury,  except  when  they  deal  only  witH 

^'"fi-oHa^'-Tho  press  has  been  free  since  the  exfatence  of  tha 
present  kingdom  of  the  Netheriands.  which  dates  from   1815. 
£  berty  of  tL  press  is  expressly  secured  by  art.  8  of  the  constitu- 
tion of  1848.     By  art.  286  of  the  penal  cods  seditious  books  and 
newspapers  may  be  seized.     By  art.  283  of  the  same  code  and  by  a 
royal  decree  of  25th  January  1814  the  name  of  the  printer  must 
appear  upon  newspapers.     Press  offences  are  not  tned  by  jury. 
%alu  -The  strict  licensing  of  the  press  in  Italy  excited  the 
derision  of  Milton.     In  the  Areopagitica  he  gives  examples  of  the 
licences   of   that   period   which   were   usually   imprinted   at  the 
beghining  of  a  book.     The  laws  of  the  different  states  varied  m 
severity      Thus  it  was  a  matter  of  complaint  against  Venice  by 
Paul  V.  that  she  allowed  the  publication  of  works  censured  at 
Rome.     The  power  of  the  church '  fa  seen  in  the  fate  of  Bruno  and 
Ga  ileo      By  art.  27  of  the  political  code  of  Sardinia,  granted'  by 
Charies  Albert  on  4th  March  1848.  and  still  in  force,  the  press  w  free 
but  abuses  of  the  liberty  are  restrained  by  law      Bibles,  catech^m.^ 
and  liturgical  works  must  be  licensed  by  the  bishop      ^v   ,?  .^  "l 
press  law  of  Italy  fa  contained  in  the  law  of  26th  March  1848,  33 
altered  by  later  enactments.     Everything  printed  in  typographica^ 
characters  or  by  lithography  or  any  similar  means,  must  indicate 
he  p  aco  and  the  dat°e  o?  printing  and  the  name  of  the  printer 
A   copy  of  everything  printed   must  bo  deposited  with,  certain 
officials  and  at  certaiS  fibraries.     Before  the  publication  of  any 
newspaper  or  periodical,  notice  of  the  intended  pub  ication  must 
be  riven  at  the,  office  of  the  secreUry  of  sUte  for  internal  affairs. 
Tlif  notice  must  contain  (1)  a  declaration  of  the  legal  qualihcat.on 
of  the  person  intending  to  publish,  whether  as  proprietor  or  editor. 
(2)  the^  nature  of  the  publication,  and  (3)  the  name  and  residenc. 
of  -the  responsible  edftor.     Every  newspaper  is  bound  to  insert 
gratuitously  a  contradiction  or  explanation  of  any  charge  made 
Lainst  a  person  in  its  columns,     f^or  contravention  of  these  and 
other  regulations  there  is  a  statutory  penalty  not  exceeding  1000 
lire  (£40).    The  pubUcation  of  a  newspaper  may  be  suspended  untd 
the  payment  of  a  fine.     The  publication  of  parliamentary  deba^ 
is  permitted.      Press  offences  are  tried  by  a  jury  of  twelve.      By 
a  kw  of  11th  May  1877  it  fa  forbidden  to  publish  any  indication 
of  the  way  in  which  individual  judges  or  jurors  voted  in  their 

''''i?«^-l  board  or  "junta"  of  censors  existed  during  the 
Spanish  dominion.  The  fundamental  law  of  "exico  ii|  now  the 
constitution  of  1857.  as  amended  by  subsequent  additions  By 
art  6  the  e^^pression  of  ideas  cannot  be  the  object  of  any  judicial 
or  administrative  inquiry,  unless  in  case  of  attacks  on  mora  ity. 
pubHc  0  der,  &c.  By  art.  7  the  liberty  of  writing  and  pubhsh.ne 
writing  on  any  subject  is  inviolable.  Censorship  is  abolished  and 
^rSences  a^re  to  be  tried  by  one  iury  which  testifies  the  act  and 
another  which  applies  the  law  and  defines  the  penalty. 

Norway.-The  liberty  of  the  press  is  secured  by  art.  100  of  the 
constitution  of  1814.  No  one  can  bo  punished  for  any  writing 
unks^^he  or  some  one  by  his  instigation,  offend  against  the  sUte 
Uw  relirion,  or  decency,  or  make  infamous  accusations  against 
any  one.  Criticism  of  the  Government  is  ".^P'-^^'y  F!™'""'^-  .  , 
OUoman  £mpire.-hy  art.  12  of  the  constitution  of" 23d  Decemb^ 
18?6  the  prtss^was  reco'gnizcd  as  free.subjcct  to  the  l-'t« -jJ^J^ 
by  law.  Press  laws  had  been  previously  enacted  on  6th  March 
1865  and  12th  March  1867. 

rorlugal.-lt  fa  stated  by  Braga  and  others  that  » /"»  "^ 
existed  up  to  the  establishment  of  tho  I"!"'?'"""'.;!";!  "'^  ^ 
Vicente  (died  1536)  was  tho  last  writer  who  dared  to  cxpr^s  ba 
tloughU  freely.  At  a  later  period  Bocago  was  >™F'So'''d  f?^ 
wrirings  displeasing  to  tho  authorities.  Boanls  of  censorship 
und  ^'^the  nLies  of  tho  "  Real  Mesa  Censoria^  or  the  "  M^  do 
Dcscmbargo  do  Paco."  ossumed  to  license  publications.  Lilwrty 
oflhrprefs  was,  h'owever,  finally  f<^-\^'''ZiTl7n\'mt, 
by  art  7  of  tho  constitution  granted  by  John  VI  >"  1»^-  ^ 
art  8  a  special  tribunal  was  constituted  in  both  Portugal  and 
Braril  to  protect  the  liberty  of  printing.  The  censorship  waacoD- 
f  ned  to  that  exercised  by  the  bishops  over  theological  or  dogmahc 
works     The  debates  in  the  legislatoro  and  prdcecduigs  in  the  court. 

°^i;:::;::r::!^rr:^f??n^on  of  SOU.  j..^ 
^-r;r»'t,:^'i^s;^oi';oi;:::uni,.:^ng'a  d  ;!^sqL. 

fhrouKliTho  press,  every  one  being  liable  for  abu,o  in  case,  deter- 


714 


P  R  E  — P  R  E 


mined  by  tlie  penal  c6Je.  Press  offences  arc  to  be  tried  by  jury. 
Censorship  is  abolislicd,  and  is  never  to  be  re-established.  Ko 
previous  autliorization  is  necessary  for  the  publication  of  iie\vs[iapcrs. 
No  sureties  are  to  be  demanded  from  journalists,  w liters,  editors, 
or  printers.  The  press  is  not  to  be  subjected  to  regulation  of  ad- 
vertisements. No  newspaper  or  publication  is  to  be  susjiended  or 
su[ipressed.  Every  author  is  responsible  for  his  writings ;  in  default 
of  the  author,  the  manager  or  editor  is  responsible.  Every  news- 
pajier  must  have  a  responsible  manager  iu  the  possession  of  civU 
aud  political  rights. 

linssia. — The  position  of  the  Russian  press  generally  is  regulated 
by  a  law  of  6th  April  1865.  The  etftct  of  that  law  is  to  exempt 
from  preventive  censorship  (if  published  in  St  Petersburg  or 
Moscow)  all  newspapers,  periodicals^  and  original  works  and  trans- 
lations not  exceeding  a  certain  number  of  pages,  and  (wherever 
published)  all  Government  publications,  matter  printed  by  aca- 
demies, universities,  and  scientific  bodies,  and  maps,  plans,  and 
charts.  Everything  printed  and  published  that  does  not  fall  within 
any  of  these  categories  must,  before  issue  to  the  public,  be  submitted 
for  the  approval  of  Government  censors  stationed  in  different  parts 
of  the  empire.  The  minister  of  the  interior  has  power  to  dispense 
with  the  preventive  censorship  in  the  case  of  provincial  newspapers 
and  periodicals.  In  St  Petersburg  and  Moscow  the  periodical  press 
is  subject  to  corrective  censorship  for  infringement  of  the  numerous 
restrictive  regulations  contained  in  the  code,  and  supplemented  at 
times  by  secret  instructions  from  the  minister  of  the  interior  to 
editors  and  publishers.  It  should  be  observed  that,  apart  from 
the  code,  the  sustained  display  of  a  spirit  hostile  to  the  Govern- 
ment renders  the  publisher  of  a  periodical  liable  to  punishment. 
The  penalties  established  by  the  law  of  1865  for  offences  against 
the  press  regulations  consist  in  the  infliction  of  a  series  of  warnings 
published  in  the  Official  Gazelle.  A  first  warning  merely  enjoins 
more  care  for  the  future  ;  a  second  is  followed  by  suspension  for  a 
ceftain  period,  sometimes  by  a  prohibition  to  insert  adveitisements; 
a  third  by  suppression,  anil  perhaps  prosecution  of  the  offending 
comluctor.  I?y  imperial  ukase  of  '2d  June  1872  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  judicial  tribunals  over  press  offences  was  practically  transferred 
to  the  minister  of  the  interior,  except  iu  the  case  of  violation  of 
jirivate  rights,  as  by  libel.  The  law  of  1865  was  modified  in  1874 
by  a  regulation  to  the  effect  that  all  publications  appearing  at 
longer  intervals  than  one  week  should  be  submitted  to  the  central 
board  of  censors.  This  is  applied  to  all  periodicals  that  had  been 
formerly  published  without  preventive  censorship.  By  a  ukase 
issued  in  1881  a  committee  of  four  members  is  entrasted  with  the 
decision  of  all  matters  relating  to  the  press  submitted  to  it  by  the 
minister  of  the  interior.  The  strictest  supervi-i^ion  is  exercised  over 
the  foreign  press,  periodical  and  otherwise.  None  but  a  few  privi- 
leged individuals,  such  as  members  of  the  royal  family,  foreign 
diplomatists,  and  editors  of  newspapers  in  the  capital,  may  receive 
foreign  publications  free  of  censorship.  The  censorship  consists  in 
blackening  out,  and  sometimes  in  the  excision,  of  whole  columns 
and  sheets  of  publications  that  may  be  deemed  pernicious.  Only 
such  periodicals  as  are  placed  on  a  list  approved  by  the  board 
of  censors  are  allowed  to  be  received  through  the  post-office  by 
uon- privileged  persons.  Telegraphic  messages  to  newspapers  are 
subject  to  strict  censorship.  Tbe  Russian  telegraphic  press  agency 
is  entirely  under  official  management. 

Spain. — There  was  probably  no  country  where  restrictions  on  the 
liberty  of  the  press  were  at  one  time  more  stringent  than  in  Spain. 
From  the  first  use  of  printing  up  to  1521  censorship  was  exercised 
by  the  crown  ;  after  that  date  the. Inquisition  began  to  assume  the 
right,  and  continued  to  do  so  up  to  its  suppression  in  1808.  In 
1558  Philip  II.  denounced  the  penalty  of  death  against  even  the 
liossessor  of  a  book  upon  the  Index  Expurgatorius  of  the  Inquisition. 
Some  of  the  greatest  names  in  Spanish  literature  were  sufferers : 
Castillejo,  Mendoza,  Mariana,  and  Quevedo  incurred  the  displeasure 
of  the  Inquisition  ;  Luis  Ponce  de  Leon  was  imprisoned  for  his 
translation  of  the  Song  of  Solomon.  The  last  Index  appeared  in 
1790.'  In  1812  the  constitution  promulgated  by  the  regency  in 
the  name  of  Ferdinand  VII.  provided  by  art.  371  that  all  Spaniards 
should  have  liberty  to  \vTite,  print,  and  publish  their  political  ideas 
without  any  necessity  for  licence,  examination,  or  approbation  pre- 
vious to  publication,  subject  to  the  restrictions  imposed  by  law. 
Art.  13  of  the  constitution  of  30th  June  1876,  promulgated  on  the 
accession  of  Alphonso  XII.,  practically  re-enacts  this  provision. 

Sweden. ~1l\\&  press  law  of  16th  July  1812  is  one  of  the  funda- 
mental laws  of  Sweden.  It  is  an  expansion  of  art.  86  of  the  con- 
stitution of  6th' June  1809.  Liberty  of  the  press  is  declared  to  be 
the  privilege  of  every  Swede,  subject  to  prosecution  for  libellous 
writing.  Privileges  of  individuals  as  to  publication  are  abolished. 
The  title  and  place  of  publicjition  of  every  newspaper  or  periodical 
must  be  registered,  and  every  publication  must  bear  the  name  of 
the  printer  and  the  place  of  printing.  Press  offences  are  tried  by 
a  jury  of  nine,  chosen  respectively  by  the  prosecutor,  the  prisoner, 
and  the  court.     The  verdict  of  two-thirds  of  the  jury  is  final. 

■'  SeeTicknor,  Hist,  of  Spo.n.  Lit.,  vol.  L  p.  422  jj.,  vol.  iii.  p.  365. 


Switzerland. — Liberty  of  the  press  is  secured  by  art.  4o  of  thd 
constitution  of  1848,  re-enacted  by  art.  55  of  the  constitution  of 
29th  May  1874.  Each  canton  has  its  own  laws  for  the  repression 
of  abuse  of  the  liberty,  subject  to  the  approbation  of  the  federal 
council.  The  confederation  can  impose  penalties  on  libels  directed 
against  itself  or  its  officers.  (J.  \Vt.) 

PRESTER  JOHN.  The  history  of  Prester  John  is  that 
of  a  phantom,  taking  many  forms.  It  no  doubt  originally 
was  ba.sed  on  some  nucleus  of  fact,  or  connected  itself  with 
some  such  nucleus,  though  what  that  nucleus  was  has 
been  much  controverted  and  is  extremely  dilEcult  to  deter- 
mine.- But  the  name  and  the  figure  which  it  suggest'ed 
occupied  so  prominent  a  place  in  the  mind  of  Europe  for 
two  or  three  centuries  that  a  real  history  could  hardly 
have  a  stronger  claim  to  exposition  here  than  this  history 
of  a  will-o'-the-wisp. 

■  Before  Prester  John,  eo  nomine,  appears  upon  the  scene 
we  find  the  way  prepared  for  his  appearance  by  the  pre- 
sentation of  a  kindred  fable,  and  one  which  certainly  en- 
twined itself  with  the  legends  about  Prester-  John  after  his 
figure  had  lodged  itself  in  the  popular  imagination  of 
Europe.  This  is  the  story -of  the  appearance  at  Rome 
(1122),  in  the  pontificate  of  Calixtus  II.,  of  a  certain 
Oriental  ecclesiastic,  whom  one  account  styles  "  John,  the 
patriarch  of  the  Indians,"  and  another  "an  archbishop  of 
India."  This  ecclesiastic  related  the  most  wonderful 
stories  of  the  shrine  of  St  Thomas  in  India,  and  of  the 
posthumous  and  still  recurring  miracles  which  were  wrought 
there  periodically  by  the  body  of  the  apostle,  including 
the  distribution  of  the  sacramental  wafer  by  his  hand, 
and  many  other  marvellous  things.  We  cannot  regard  the 
appearance  at  Rome  of  the  personage  who  related  these 
marvels  in  presence  of  the  pope  as  a  mere  popular  fiction  : 
it  rests  on  two  authorities  apparently  independent  (one  of 
them  a  letter  from  Odo  of  Rheims,  abbot  of  St  Remy  from 
1118  to  1151),  for  their  discrepancies  show  that  one  was 
not  copied  from  the  other,  though  in  the  principal  facts 
they  agree. 

Nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  later  Prester  John  appears 
upon  the  scene,  in  the  outline,  at  least,  of  the  character 
which  long  adhered  to  him,  viz.,  that  of  a  Christian  con- 
queror and  potentate  of  enormous  _power  and  splendour, 
who  combined  the  characters  of  priest  and  king,  and  ruled 
over  vast  dominions  in  the  far  East.  This  idea  was  uni- 
versal in  Europe  from  about  the  middle  of  the  12th 
century  to  the  end  of  the  13th  or  beginning  of  the  14th. 
The  Asiatic  story  then  gradually  died  away,  but  the  name 
remained  as  firmly  rooted  as  ever,  and  the  royal  presbyter 
was  now  assigned  a  locus  in  Ethiopia.  Indeed,  as  we  shall 
see,  it  is  not  an  improbable  h3rpothesis  that  from  a  very 
early  date  in  the  histoty  of  this  phantom  its  title  was 
assigned  to  the  Abyssinian  king,  though  for  a  time  this 
identification  was  overshadowed  by  the  prevalence  of  the 
Asiatic  legend.  At  the  bottom  of  the  double  allocation 
there  was,  no  doubt,  that  association  or  confusion  of 
Ethiopia  with  India  which  is  as  old  as  Virgil,  and  perhaps 
much  older. 

The  first  mention  of  Prester  John  occurs  in  the  chronicle 
of  Otho  or  Otto,  bishop  of  Freisingen.  This  writer  states 
that  when  at  the  papal  court  in  1145  he  met  with  the 
bishop  of  Gabala  (Jibal  in  Syria),  who  related  how  "not 
many  years  before  one  John,  king  and  priest  (rej»  et  sacer- 
dos),  who  dwelt  in  the  extreme  Orient  beyond  Persia  and 
Armenia,  and  was,  with  his  people,  a  Christian  but  a  Nes- 
torian,  had  made  war  against  the  brother  kings  of  the 
Persians  and  Medes,  who  were  called  Samiards  (or  Sanjards), 
and  captured  Egbatana  their  capital.  The  battle  with 
those  princes  endured  three  days,  but  at  last  Presbyter 
John — for  so  he  was  wont  to  be  styled — routed  the  Per 
sians  with  immense  slaughter.  After  this  victory  the 
aforesaid  John  was  advancing  to  fight  in  aid  of  the  church 


PRESTER     JOHN 


715 


at  Jerusalem ;  Tjut,  when  he  arrived  at  the  Tigris,  and 
found  no  possible  means  of  transport  for  his  army,  he 
turned  northward,  as  he  had  heard  that  the  river  in  that 
quarter  was  frozen  over  in  winter-time.  After  halting  on 
its  banks  for  some  years  {per  aliquot  annos)  in  expectation 
of  a  frost  he  was  obliged  to  return  to  his  own  land.  This 
personage  was  said  to  be  of  the  ancient  race  of  the  Magi 
mentioned  in  the  gospel,  to  rule  the  same  nations  that  they 
ruled,  and  to  have  such  a  plenitude  of  wealth  and  glory 
that  he  used  none  but  a  sceptre  of  solid  emerald.  It  was 
as  fired  by  the  example  of  his  ancestors  (they  said)  that  he 
was  proposing  to  go  to  Jerusalem  when  thus  obstructed." 
We  cannot  say  how  far  the  report  of  the  bishop  of  Gabala, 
or  other  rumours  of  the  events  on  which  this  was  founded, 
made  an  impression  on  Europe  at  that  time.  But  there  can 
be  no  doubt  about  the  impression  that  was  made  some 
twenty  years  later  (c.  11G5)  by  thei  wide  circulation  of  a 
letter  which  purported  to  have  been  addressed  by  the  poten- 
tate in  question  to  the  Greek  emperor  Manuel.  This  letter, 
professing  to  come  from  "  Presbyter  Joannes,  by  the  power 
and  virtue  of  God  and  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  Lord  of 
Lords,"  is  filled  with  the  most  extravagant  details  of  the 
greatness  and  splendour  of  the  writer.  He  claims  to  be 
the  greatest  monarch  under  heaven,  as  well  -as  a  devout 
Christian  and  protector  of  Christians.  And  it  was  his 
desire  to  visit  the  Holy  Sepulchre  with  a"  great  host,  and 
to  subdue  the  enemies  of  the  Cross.  Seventy-two  kings, 
reigning  over  as  many  kingdoms,  were  his  tributaries.  His 
empire  extended  over  the  three  Indies,  including  that 
Further  India  where  lay  the  body  of  St  Thomas,  to  the 
sun-rising,  and  back  again  down  the  slope  to  the  ruins  of 
Babylon  and  the  tower  of  Babel.  All  the  wild  beasts  and 
monstrous  creatures  commemorated  in  current  legend  were 
to  be  found  in  his  dominions,  as  well  as  all  the  wild  and 
eccentric  races  of  men  of  whom  strange  stories  were  told, 
including  those  unclean  nations  whom  Alexander  Magnus 
■walled  up  among  the  mountains  of  the  north,  and  who 
■were  to  come  forth  at  the  latter  day, — and  so  were  thfe 
Amazons  and  the  Bragmans.  His  dominions  contained 
the  monstrous  ants  that  dug  gold  and  the  fish  that  gave 
the  purple ;  they  produced  all  manner  of  precious  stones 
and  all  the  famous  aromatics.  Within  them  was  found 
the  Fountain  of  Youth ;  the  pebbles  which  give  light, 
restore  sight,  and  render  the  possessor  invisible  ;  the  Sea  of 
Sand  was  there,  stored  with  fish  of  wondrous  savour ;  and 
the  River  of  Stones  was  there  also ;  besides  a  subterranean 
stream  whoso  sands  were  of  gems.  His  territory  produced 
the  worm  called  "salamander,"  which  lived  in  fire,  and 
which  wrought  itself  an  incombustible  envelope  from  which 
were  manufactured  robes  for  the  presbyter,  which  were 
■washed  in  flaming  fire.  When  the  king  went  forth  to  war 
thirteen  great  crosses  made  of  gold  and  jewels  were  carried 
in  waggons  before  him  as  his  standards,  and  each  was 
followed  by  10,000  knights  and  100,000  footmen.  There 
were  no  poor  in  his  dominions,  no  thief  or  robber  no 
flatterer  or  miser,  no  dissensions,  no  lies,  and  no  vices.  His 
palace  was  built  after  the  plan  of  that  which  St  Thomas 
erected  for  tlie  Indian  king  Gondopharus.  Of  the  splendour 
of  this  details  are  given.  Before  it  was  a  marvellous  mirror 
erected  ou  a  many-storied  pedestal  (described  in  detail) ; 
in  this  speculum  ho  could  discern  everything  that  ■went  on 
throughout  his  dominions,  and  deteet  conspiracies.  He 
was  ■waited  on  by  seven  kings  at  a  time,  by  sixty  dukes  and 
365  counts ;  twelve  archbishops  sat  on  his  right  hand, 
and  twenty  bishops  on  his  left,  besides  the  patriarch  of  Bt 
Thomas's,  the  protopopo  of  tho  Sarmagantians  (Samar- 
iand  1),  and  tho  archprotopopo  of  Susa,  where  the  royal 
residence  was.  There  was  another  palace  of  still  more 
■wonderful  character,  built  by  the  presbyter's  father  in 
ebadience  to  a  b  wcn'y  command,  in  tho  city  of  Bribric. 


Should  it  bo  asked  why,  ■with  all  this  power  and  splendour, 
he  calls iimself  merely  "presbyter,"  this  is  because  of  his 
humility,  and  because  it  was  not  fitting  for  one  ■whose  sewer 
was  a  primate  and  king,  whose  butler  an  archbishop  and 
king,  whose  chamberlain  a  bishop  and  king,  whose  master 
of  the  horse  an  archimandrite  and  king,  whose  chief  cook 
an  abbot  and  king,  to  be  called  by  such  titles  as  these. 
But  the  extent  of  his  power  and  dominion  could  only  be 
told  when  the  number  of  the  stars  of  heaven  and  of  the 
sands  of  the  seashore  could  be  told.  , 

How  great  was  the  popularity  and  diffusion  of  this 
letter  may  be  judged  in  pome  degree  from  the  fact  that 
Herr  Zarncke  in  his  elaborate  treatise  on  Prester  John  gives 
a'  list  of  close  on  a  hundred  MSS.  of  it.  Of  these  there  aro 
eight  in  the  British  Museum,  ten  at  Vienna,  thirteen  in 
the  great  Paris  library,  fifteen  at  Munich..  There  are  also 
several  renderings  in  old  German  verse.  Many  circum- 
stances of  the  time  tended  to  render  such  a  letter  accept- 
able. Christendom  would  welcome  gladly  the  intelligence 
of  a  counterpoise  arising  so  unexpectedly  to  the  Moham- 
medan power;  whilst  the  statements  of  the  letter  itself  com- 
bined a  reference  to  and  corroboration  of  all  the  romantic 
figments  concerning  Asia  which  aheady  fed  the  curiosity  of 
Europe,  which  figured  in  the  world-maps,  and  filled  that 
fabulous  history  of  Alexander  which  for  nearly  a  thousand 
years  supplanted  the  real  history  of  the  Macedonian 
throtighout  Europe  and  western  Asia. 

The  only  other  surviving  document  of  the  12th  century 
bearing  on  this  subject  is  a  letter  of  which  MS.  copies  are 
preserved  in  the  Cambridge  and  Paris  libraries,  and  which 
is  also  embedded  in  the  chronicles  of  several  English  annal- 
ists, including  Benedict  of  Peterborough,  Roger  Hovedon, 
and  Matthew.Paris.  It  purports  to  have  been  indited  from 
the  Riallo  at  Venice  by  Pope  Alexander  III.  on  the  5th 
day  before  the  calends  of  October  (27th  September),  data 
which  fix  the  year  as  1177.  The  pope  addresses  himself 
as  Alej^ander  episcopw,  servus  servorum  dei,  earisnmo  in 
Christo  filio  Jokanni,  illustro  et  magnijico  indorum  regi 
[Hovcdon's  copy  here  inserts  sacerdoti  sanctissimo],  salu- 
iem  et  apostolicam  henedictionem.  He  recites  how  he  had 
heard  of  the  monarch's  Christian  profession,  diligence 
in  good  works,  and  piety  by  manifold  narrators  and  com- 
mon report,  but  also  more  particularly  from  his  (the  pope's) 
beloved  son  Master  Philip,  his  physician  and  confidant 
(medicus  et  familiaris  noster),  who  had  received  informa- 
tion from  honourable  persons  of  the  monarch's  kingdom, 
with  whom  he  had  intercourse  in  those  (Eastern)  parts. 
Philip  had  also  reported  the  king's  anxiety  for  instruction 
in  Catholic  discipline  and  for  reconciliation  ■with  the 
apostolic  see  in  regard  to  all  discrepancies.  Philip  had 
also  heard  from  the  king's  people  that  he  fervently  desired 
to  have  a  church  in  Rome  and  an  altar  at  Jerusalem. 
Tho  pope  goes  on  to  say  that  ho  found  it  too  difficult,  on 
account  of  the  length  and  obstructions  of  the  way,  to  send 
any  ono  (of  ecclesiastical  position  ?)  a  latere,  but  he  would 
despatch  the  aforesaid  Philip  to  communicate  instruction 
to  him.  And  on  accepting  Philip's  communications  the 
king  should  send  back  honourable  persons  bearing  letters 
sealed  vrith  his  seal,  in  which  his  wishes  should  be  fully 
Set  forth.  "Tho  more  nobly  and  magnanimously  thou 
conductcst  thyself,  and  the  less  thou  vauntest  of  thy  wealth 
and  power  (quanto  .  .  .  minus  de  divitiis  et  potcntia  tua 
videris  inflatus),  the  more  readily  shall  wo  regard  tl-y 
wishes  both  as  to  the  concession  of  a  church  in  the  city 
and  of  altars  in  the  church  of  SS.  Peter  and  Paul,  and  in 
the  church  of  the  Lord's  Sepulchre  at  Jerusalem,  and  as 
to  other  rca.sonable  requests." 

There  is  no  express  mention  of  the  title  "  Prester  John  " 
in  what  seem  the  more  genuine  copies  of  this  letter.  But 
the  address  and  the  c;ipression  in  the  italicized  passage 


716 


PRESTER     JOHN 


jnsi  quoted  (which  evidently  alludes  to  the  vaunting 
epistle  of  1165)  hardly  leave  room  for  doubt  that  the 
pope  supposed  himself  to  be  addressing  the  (imaginary) 
author  of  that  letter.  To  whom  the  reports  of  Philip  the 
physician  in  reality  referred  is  a  point  that  will  be  discussed 
below.  We  do  not  know  how  far  the  imaginations  about 
Prester  John  retained  their  vitality  in  1221,  forty-four 
years  after  the  letter  of  Pope  Alexander,  for  we  know  of  no 
mention  of  Prester  John  in  tHe  interval.  But  in  that  year 
again  a  rumour  came  out  of  the  East  that  a  great  Christian 
conqueror  was  taking  the  hated  Moslems  in  reverse  and 
sweeping  away  their  power.  Prophecies  current  among 
the  Christians  in  Syria  of  the  destruction  of  Mohammed's 
sect  after  six  centuries  of  duration  added  to  the  excitement 
attending  these  rumours.  The  name  ascribed  to  the  con- 
queror was  David,  and  some  called  him  the  son  or  the 
grandson  of  Prester  John  of  India.  He  whose  conquests 
and  slaughters  now  revived  the  legend  was  in  fact  no 
Christian  or  King  David  but  the  famous  Jenghiz  KhAn. 
The  delusion  was  dissipated  slowly,  and  even  after  the 
great  Tartar  invasion  and  devastation  of  eastern  Europe 
its  effects  still  influenced  the  mind  of  Christendom  and 
caused  popes  and  kings  to  send  missions  to  the  Tartar 
hordes  with  a  lingering  feeling  that  their  khdns,  if  not 
already  Christians,  were  at  least  always  on  the  verge  of 
conversion. 

Before  proceeding  farther  we  must  go  back  on  the  bishop 
of  Gabala's  story  and  elucidate  it  as  far  as  we  can.  The 
most  accomplished  of  modern  geogrpphical  antiquaries, 
M.  d'Avezac,  first  showed  to  whom  the  story  must  apply. 
The  only  conqueror  whose  career  suits  in  time  and  approxi- 
mates in  circumstances  is  the  founder  of  Kard-Khitdi, 
which  existed  as  a  great  empire  in  Central  Asia  during 
the  latter  two-thirds  of  the  13th  century.  This  personage 
was  a  prince  of  the  Khitdi  or  Khitaian  dynasty  of  Liao, 
which  had  reigned  over  northern  China  and  the  regions 
beyond  the  Wall  during  a  great  part  of  the  10th  and  11th 
centuries,  and  from  which  came  the  name  Khitii  (Cathay), 
by  which  China  was  once  known  in  Europe  and.  still  is 
known  in  Russia.  On  the  overthrow  of  the  dynasty  about 
1125  this  prince,  who  is  called  by  the  Chinese  Yeliu  Tashi, 
and  who  had  gone  through  a  complete  Chinese  education, 
escaped  westward  with  a  body  of  followers.  Being  well 
received  by  the  Uighurs  and  other  tribes  west  of  the 
desert,  subjects  of  his  family,  he  gathered  an  army  and 
commenced  a  course  of  conquest  which  eventually  extended 
over  eastern  and  western  Turkestan.  He  took  the  title 
of  Gur  Khiri  or  Kor  Kh4n,  said  to  mean  "  universal "  or 
"  supreme "  khdn,  and  fixed  at  Balasaghun,  north  of  the 
T'ian  Shan  range,  the  capital  of  his  empire,  which  became 
known  as  that  of  KarA-Khitdi  (Black  Cathay).  In  1141 
the  assistance  of  this  Khitaian  prince  was  invoked  by  the 
sh4h  of  Kharezm  against  Sanj4r,  the  Seljiik  sovereign  of 
Persia,  who  had  expelled  the  shah  from  his  kingdom  and 
killed  his  son.  The  Gur  Khdn  came  with  a  vast  army  of 
Turks,  Khitaians,  and  others,  and  defeated  SanjAr  near 
Samarkand  (September  1141)  in  a  great  battle,  which  the 
historian  Ibn  al-Athir  calls  the  greatest  and  most  san- 
guinary defeat  that  Islam  had  ever  undergone  in  those 
regions.  Though  the  Gur  Klhdn  himself  is  not  described 
as  having  extended  his  conquests  into  Persia,  the  shih  of 
Kharezm  followed  up  the  victory  by  invading  Khordsan 
and  plundering  the  cities  and  treasuries  of  Sanjdr.  In 
this  event — the  defeat  of  Sanj-ir,  whose  brother's  son, 
Mas'iid,  reigned  over  western  Persia — occurring  just  four 
years  before  the  story  of  the  Eastern  conqueror  was  told 
at  Rome  to  Bishop  Otto,  we  seem  to  have  the  destruction 
of  the  Samiardi  fratres  or  SanjAr  brothers,  which  was  ;the 
germ  of  the  story  of  Prester  John. 

There  is  no  evidence  of  any  profession  of  Christianity  on 


the  part  of  the  Gur  Khdn,  though  it  is  a  fact  that  the 
daughter  of  the  last  of  his  race  is  recorded  to  have  been  a 
Christian.  The  hosts  of  the  Gur  Khdn  are  caJlad  by 
Moslem  historians  Al-Turk-al-Kuffdr^  the  kafir  or  infidel 
Turks;  and  we  know  that  in  later  days  the  use  of  this  term 
"  kafir  "  often  led  to  misapprehensions,  as  when  Vasco  da 
Gama's  people  were  led  to  take  for  Christians  the  Banyan 
traders  on  the  African  coast,  and  to  describe  as  Christian 
sovereigns  so  many  princes  of  the  farther  East  of  whom 
they  heard  at  Calicut.  Of  the  rest  of  the  accretions  to 
the  story  little  can  be  said  except  that  they  are  of  the  kind 
sure  to  have  grown  up  in  some  shape  when  once  the 
Christianity  of  the  conqueror  was  assumed.  We  have 
said  that  Prester  John  was  a  phantom  ;  and  we  know  out 
of  what  disproportionate  elements  phantoms  are  developed. 
How  the  name  John  arose  is  one  of  the  obscure  points. 
Oppert  supposes  the  title  "  Gur  Khdn  "  to  have  been  con- 
founded with  Yukhanan  or  Johannes  ;  and  of  course  it  is 
probable  that  even  in  the  Levant  the  stories  of  "John  the 
patriarch  of  the  Indies,"  repeated  in  the  early  part  of  this 
article,  may  have  already  mingled  with  the  rumours  from 
the  East. 

The  obvious  failure  in  the  history  of  the  Gur  Khin  to  meet  all 
points  in  the  story  of  the  bishop  of  Gabala  led  Professor  Bruun  of 
Odessa  to  bring  forward  another  candidate  for  identity  with  the 
original  Prester  John,  in  the  person  of  the  Georgian  prince  John 
Orbelian,  the  "sbasalar,"  or  generalissimo  under  several  kings  ol 
Georgia  in  that  age.  Space  forbids  our  stating  all  the  ingenious 
arguments  and  coincidences  with  which  Professor  Bruun  supported 
his  theory.  Among  other  arguments  he  does  show  some  instances, 
in  documents  of  the  15th  century,  of  the  association  of  Prester  John 
with  the  Caucasus.  In  one  at  least  of  these  the  title  is  applied  to 
the  king  of  Abassia,  i.e.,  of  the  Abhasians  of  Caucasus.  Some  con- 
fusion between  Abash  (Abyssinia)  and  Abhas  seems  to  be  possibly 
at  the  bottom  of  the  imbroglio.  An  abstract  of  Professor  Bruun's 
argument  will  be  found  in  the  2d  edition  of  Marco  Polo,  vol.  ii.  pp. 
539-542.  We  may  quote  here  the  conclusion  arrived  at  in  winding 
up  that  abstract.  "Professor  Bruun's  thesis  seems  to  me  moie 
than  fairly  successful  in  paving  the  way  for  the  introduction  of  ■ 
Caucasian  Prester  John  ;  the  barriers  are  removed,  the  carpets  ar< 
spread,  the  trumpets  sound  royally, — but  the  conquering  hera 
comes  not.  He  does  very  nearly  come.  The  almost  royal  power 
and  splendour  of  the  Orbelians  at  this  time  is  on  record  ■.  .  .  (see 
St  Martin,  Itfinu  sur  VArminie,  ii.  77)  .  .  .  Orpel  Ivane,  i.e., 
John  Orbelian,  Grand  Sbasalar,  was  for  years  the  pride  of  Georgia, 
and  the  hammer  of  the  Turks.  .  .  .  But  stDl  we  hear  of  no  actual 
conflict  with  the  chief  princes  of  the  Seljukian  house,  and  of  no 
event  in  his  history  so  important  as  to  account  for  his  being  made 
to  play  the  part  of  Presbyter  Johannes  in  the  story  of  the  Bishop  of 
Gabala."  As  regards  any  real  foundation  for  the  title  of  "  Pres- 
byter "  we  may  observe  that  nothing  worth  mentioning  has  been 
alleged  on  behalf  of  any  candidate. 

When  the  Mongol  conquests  threw  Asia  open  to  Frank  travellers 
ij  the  middle  of  the  13th  century  their  minds  were  full  of  Prester 
John  ;  they  sought  in  vain  for  an  adequate  representative,  nor  was 
it  in  the  nature  of  things  that  they  should  not  find  soTne  repre< 
sentative.  In  fact  they  found  several.  Apparently  no  real  tradi- 
tion existed  among  the  Eastern  Christians  of  such  a  personage ; 
the  myth  had  taken  shape  from  the  clouds  of  rumour  as  they  rolled 
westward  from  Asia.  But  the  persistent  demand  produced  a  supply ; 
and  the  honour  of  identification  with  Prester  John,  after  hovering 
over  one  head  and  another,  settled  for  a  long  time  upon  that  of 
the  king  of  the  Nestorian  tribe  of  Kerait,  famous  in  the  histories 
of  Jenghiz  under  the  name  of  Ung  or  Awang  Khan.  We  may  quota 
an  illustration  from  geographical  analogy :  "  Pre-Columbian  maps 
of  the  Atlantic  showed  an  island  of  BrazU,  an  island  of  AntUlia, 
founded — who  knew  on  what? — whether  on  the  real  adventure  of  a 
vessel  driven  in  sight  of  the  Azores  or  Bermudas,  or  on  mere  fancy 
and  fogbank.  But  when  discovery  really  came  to  be  undertaken, 
men  looked  for  such  lands  and  found  them  accordingly.  And 
tliere  they  are  in  our  geographies,  Brazil  and  the  Antilles." ' 

In  Piano  Carpini's  (1248)  single  mention  of  Prester  John  as  the 
king  of  the  Christians  of  India  the  Greater,  who  defeats  the  Tartars 
by  an  elaborate  stratagem,  Oppert  recognizes  Jaldliiddin  of  Kharezm 
and  his  brief  success  over  the  Mongols  in  Afghanistan.  In  the 
Armenian  prince  Sempad's  account  (1248),  on  the  other  hand,  this 
Christian  king  of  India  is  aided  by  the  Tartars  to  defeat  aud  harass 
the  Saracens,  and  becomes  the  vassal  of  the  Mongols.  In  the  nar- 
rative of  William  Rubruquis  (1253),  though  distinct  reference  is 
made  to  the  conquering  Gur  Khan  under  the  name  of  Coir  Cham  of 


•  App.  to  liarco  Polo,  2d  ed.,  ii. 


543. 


PRESTER     JOHN 


717 


^     „.f.,r  thBtitleof'Kinf  John"  is  assigned  to  Kuslihik,  king 
5??he7ain^ns   whfhadmlrneathe  daughter  of  the  last  l.n.al 

^'''  'i'fTo'Kera^^  til  d  by  the  Chinese  Tuli.  and  by  the  Persian 

arL''o?»SuTghra,^^^^^ 

north  China  had  conferred  the  ^'tle  of     «ang     or  k    „ 

&  -t™'  h.  i  Praur  Join  i  "'■"V  If  »rM„"  XJh 
When  next  we  begin  to  hear  his  name  it  '«  ^f  .^"/JX;  ?,'^ 

ast^^i^jnJ:iAb;^i^a%{;:'=^^s^t:ifrS^t^ 

tL  app?icatio°n  was  a'a  invention  of  the  Po^t"f«!^«  ^^-^n  7act°?i'e 

from  the  E°istVfore  1328,  speaks  of  the  emperor  of  tho  Ethiopians 

''trimked'^fsl^lfh'vSng  nrobability  on  our  side  if  we 
gobackmu^hVLtherstill^niBa^^ 
%It..a,be.npolnt.c.outby  Mr  Alc^ndnr  ^^>Jle  that  Kus.j^^uk  .^^^^^ 
rowerful  klne  of  the  Naimnns,  whose  name  fa-^ang-kliin  m  precisely 
K  Join'" fa  nearly  -th»t  could  be  cxp^cs.c.  ,„  Chnic^         ^^^^^^^  ^^  ^^^ 
a  The  stories  ot  ,Kt"tai  as  a  Christian  enplrcwmcni^^^^^     ^^.^    ^,o^vcvc^. 
court  of  Akbar  to  'l;»r''tehncnc.lct  Goes  In  search  oi.i^U      ;,,  „^^^  ^^^^ 

j:i^ray^*?MrcrPo^o^^SfJ'ihrliiL"i5^g"ihc"ro%^en  Jivo  Of  tb.  f«^ 
Prcstcr  John  "—  a  Juinblo  of  ioacouracy. 
3  ao  Arl03to-__  ^^  ^,^  ^^_^  ,|  g^,j^^  p_j  j^„.  Egitto 
A  oud  Ro  d-i  tiibuto  0  »ti  soggctto, 
Porch' t  In  p'llcr  di  lui  dal  cainmin  drltto- 
Lcvaio  il  nIio  c  dargU  allro  rlcctto, 
K  per  nucato  lasciAr  sublto  alllitto 
Di  faino  il  Cairo  e  tutto  quel  dlstrctlo. 
Bfnapo  detto  k  del  auddcttl  suol ;    _ 

Gil  diciain  Presto  o  PrtU  lanni  nol.  

.  ,n  a  Spanish  work  of  about  tbo.sjimodat^  by  an  anonj^on.  Fr.nel»«^^^ 
we  are  told  that  tlic  emperor  called     AMcselib   wluci  m>-^  ^  Kthiopla, 

Croaa,'  is  a  protector  of  I'rnUJuan,  who  ■» '''"  P^*'^  Y-  "  i^„"s  tliough  they  bo 
a.d  ii  lord  of  many  great  lands,  ""-{.■"""y.^'t  "  °  ,';;";'  hec'ro'ln  token  of 
&''up^lS^ut,."i^rco!.'«r.t^or;:i;r„^^\"U.,  printed  at  Madrid. 

1877). 


been  the  ideas  of  Pope  Aleitander  III.  respecting  the  geographical 
Sion  of  the  potentate  whom  he  addressed  fiom  Venice  in  1177 
[he  only  real  person  to  whom  the  letter  can  have  been  sent  was  ti. 
I  Lof  Abyssinia.  Let  it  be  observed  that  the  '  honourable  per- 
son! 0  the^monarch's  kingdom  "  whom  the  leech  Pluhp  had  me 
wi  h  t  the  East  must  have  been  the  remesentatives  of^»™«  ^«»' 
no  ver  and  not  of  a  phantom.  It  must  We  been-a  real  king  and 
Sola  ruraour-begotten  ignis  fatuus  who  professed  to  desire  recon- 
cilhtionwrth  the  Catholic  Church  and  the  assigr.at.on  of  a  church 
at  Kome  Ind  of  an  altar  at  Jerusalem.  Moreover,  we  know  that 
«W„  vThion^  Church  did  long  possess  a  chapel  and  alUr  in  the 
*ct»ihe'Hory''se;ulchrf,  U  though  we  h- '.ee"  -abU 
*„  fiifl  travpllers'  testimony  to  this  older  than  about  livi,  n.  " 
auife  Pos.'b  e  that  t  i  appropriation  may  have  originated  much 
earner'  We  know  from  Marco  Polo  that  about  a  century  after 
the  date  of  Pope  Alexander's  epistle  a  mission  was  sent  by  the 
k  ng  of  Abyssin'ia  to  Jerusalem  to  "l^^e  offerings  on  his  part  at  the 

hkik  iTefj-^siirwu^hTrw^  »r ji; 

?r    ^l^in^l099   w^  stm  in  Christian  possession.     Abyssinia  had 
Zr^  whptbcr  a  renlv  ever  came  back  to  the  Lateran. 

m§M4Mrmm 

^^it';lfe^^endIr^hist:°;7the  Translation  of  tkc  thru  BU^ 
if,iy  by  John  of^Hildesheim  (c.  1370)  of  which  an  account  a„d 
fxtracts  are  given  by  Zarncke  (Abhandl.  u.,  154  sq),  we  hai^e  an 
Tv  dent  ^i^bTefn  th^e  writer's  mind  between  the  Asiatic  and  t^, 
Ifrican  location  of  Prester  John  ;  among  other  rnatters  it  is  stated 
that  Prester  John  and  the  Nubians  dug  a  chapel  out  of  the  rocK 
under  Calvary  in  honour  of  the  threo  kings:  "et  vocatur  ilU 
apel  ain  part^busiUis  capellaNubiyanorum  ad  reges  in  prssentem 
l^L.  sedLrracini,.  .  •o}>}'^rtl^'''^&^Li.ry 


"^^e^'f  r:^d -t;  p;:;jj:d  mrS^r^'^m-S.;  Uth  century 
on^  ds  'res  er  Jotin  ha'd  found  his  scat  i"  Abyssinia  It  ^  the  e 
^^t  Fra  Mauro's  great  map  (1459)  presents  a  fine  "'y  ^'^^  *''« 
rubric   • '  Oui  il  Presto  Janni  fa  residentia  principal.      AN  ''en.  "<-arer 

oran  to  hear  of  "Presto  Joham"a3  icignmg  in  the  'nt<="or!- 
o^rather  probably,  by  the  light  of  his  preconceptions  o  the  exist- 
ence of  t'hrtpersXo  in  «=«t  Africa  he  thns  interpreted  what  w^a3 

old  h  m  itoro  than  twenty  years  later.  ^'^Jj^tfe  first  bo^k  on 
Abyssinia  was  composed- that  of  Alvarer,_the  ""«•  ""?'?''"^ 
and  as  a  matter  of^  course  designating  the  king  of  Abissima,  is 


.  Indeed,  wc  can  carry  the  date  b-'^,''"'' -"^^li^.^s'ISrc^^e^^ 
of  a  letter  translated  in  L"doU(U„m«n(    p.  S03^     inis  ^  ^^^^  Abyssinian 

by  the  king  Zara  Jacob  In  tlic  eigl   h  year  «T  "'^''^^KJ  \  ,„  {^^,^  ^^ain  lan.i«l  , 
nfonks.  dwellers  at  Jeruaalcin.    ^'\°  K    ?,,f„",'.'Threo  in  our  chapel."    In  lh» 
in  the  Church  of  '''^8'17  ';''"',;"'^i7  'ig.99)  CoUne°lS60,  pi  175,  wc  nnd 
I'ilatr/ahrt  dts  mtltrs  Arnold  '■■'>\"^YhATchMK]lc.  to  the  Ic/t  of  tlie   Holy 
It  sUted  that  the  Ab>-'*»'!;"'"»  '}", 'I'"'   ,;"';',  iitt  the  Ar"'<-''l»n':^  "■" 

Sopulchrc,  between  two  pillars  «' '"." '"^"'P'r'* '' ,,  '    ,■  ,),.  Indians  lor  Abys- 

fe^^nf  stTs-t'hal  l^rib?s"siKrn'o  ZX"  -'j-V'.V^iS^'tt^r.l'. 
ttTbirdi^Tthe  Sepulch£  Between  tlic  A^^^^^^^ 

"wlSid  to  the  war  l-t"-" '''V"rrn  P hili,'' P  lo"  of"h  Domlnlcns  in  Pal... 
«  Matthew  Pans  gives  a  '«lV'^o.  7  ,,,^„h'lS  sneaks  of  a  Prelato  from  whom 
tine,  which  reached  the  popc  n  \?-";  ••'"''^;\'  '"„  ^^i,  q°  os  Is'estoriana  ha.nu.1. 
ho  had  received  several  '"'"'"•  ..'<"4,T,,?ii„trMaiorem  ct  pcrregnum  saccr- 
ab  ecclcsia  »cpar»vlt(cuju»  P'''^'«'''iP" ''!''A""^„7iXa,at\"r  ""'• 

1''''l\\t.\"Ahys^\L";'s"tr"';eg^u":"i«°n  It  wa,  .  »!► 

1  S.  to  IdcnWy  the  AbTss^'l-  Clinch  with  the  NestorUn.. 


718 


P  R  E  — P  R  E 


"Prcster  John,"  or  simply  "the  Preste."  Tne  name  occurs  on 
almost  every  pageof  the  narrative  beginning  with  page  1,  though 
in  the  translation  printed  for  the  Hakluyt  Society  that  which  the 
editor  calls  "general  index"  gives  no  indication  of  the  fact. 

The  name  of  "  Prester  John  "  suggested  alike  to  scholars  and 
sciolists,  first  in  its  Oriental  and  theu  in  its  Ethiopian  connexion, 
many  fanciful  and  strained  etymologies,  from  Persian,  Hebrew, 
Ethiopic,  and  what  not,  and  on  the  assumption  that  neither 
"Presbyter"  nor  "John"  was  any  proper  element  of  the  name. 
But  for  these  dreams  this  passing  notice  must  suffice. 

On  the  whole  subject  in  its  older  aspects,  see  LudolTs  Hisforia  Mihiopica 
and  its  Commfntan/,  passiTn.  The  excellent  remarks  of  M.  d'Avezac,  comprising 
a  conspectus  of  almost  the  whole  essence  of  the  subject,  are  in  the  JUcueil  de 
Voyages  ct  cU  Mimoires,  published  by  the  Soci6t6  de  G^ographie,  voL  iv.,  Paris, 
1839,  pp.  647-564.  Two  German  works  of  importance  which  have  been  used 
in  this  article  are  the  interesting  and  suggestive  Dtf  Prt^byter  Johanms  in  Sage 
itTtd  Geschichte,  by  Dr  Gustav  Oppert  (2d  ed.,  Berlin,  1870),  and,  most  import- 
ant of  all  in  its  learned,  careful,  and  critical  collection  and  discussion  of  all 
the  passages  bearing  on  the  subject,  Der  PriesUr  Johannes,  by  Frjedrich 
Zarncke  of  Leipsic  (1876-79),  still  xinfortunately  unfinished,  and  without 
the  summing  up  which  is  required  to  complete  the  subject.  The  present 
writer  has  given  considerable  attention  to  the  subject,  and  discussed  it  partially 
in  Cathay  and  the  Way  Thither,  p.  173  sg.,  and  in  Marco  Polo,  2d  ed.,  L  229- 
233,  u.  539-543.  (H.  T.) 

PRESTON,  a  market-town  and  municipal  and  parlia- 
mentary borough  of  Lancashire,  is  situated  on  the  north 
bank  of  the  Ribble,  on  the  Lancaster  Ganal,  and  at  the 
junction  of  se^  3ral  railway  lines,  28  miles  north-east  of 
Liverpool  and  31  north-west  of  Manchester.  It  consists 
chiefly  of  one  long  street,  running  from  east  to  west  along 
a  steep  ridge  above  the  Ribble,  which  is  crossed  by  six 
bridges,  three  of  which  are  railway  bridges.  The  parish 
church  of  St  John,  rebuilt  in  1855  in  the  Decorated  style, 
occupies  the  site  of  a  very  ancient  structure.  A  large 
number  of  ecclesiastical  parishes  have  been  formed  within 
recent  years,  but  none  of  the  churches  possess  special 
architectural  features.     The  Catholic  church  of  St  Wal- 


Plan  of  Preston, 
purgis  or  St  Walpurge  is  an  elaborate  structure  in  the 
Early  Decorated  style,  erected  in  1851,  and  since  then 
extensively  altered.  There  are  several  good  pnbHc  build- 
ings, including  the  town-hall  (1867  in  the  Early  Gothic 
style,  from  designs  by  Sir  Gilbert  Scott),  the  prison  (1789), 
the  corn  exchange  and  market-house  (1824),  the  court- 
house (1829),  the  borough  magistrates'  coiui;  (1858),  the 
covered  market  (1870),  the  county  offices  (1882),  the  public 
baths,  and  the  barracks.  The  most  important  public 
institution  is  the  free  public  library  and  museum,  estab- 
lished in  1879.  The  building  was  erected,  from  designs 
by  Mr  J.  Hibbert,  at  a  cost  of  £75,000  by  the  trustees  of 
Mr  E.  R.  Harris,  whose  name  it  bears,  a  further  suip  of 
£30,000  being  appropriated  by  them  to  furnish  and  endow 


the  library  and  museum,  which  are  to  be  maintained  in 
efficiency  for  ever  by  the  corporation.  This  body  gave  the 
site  in  the  principal  market-place  at  a  cost  of  £30,000. 
Here  is  placed  Dr  Shepherd's  library,  founded  in  1761, 
of  nearly  9000  volumes,  as  well  as  a  collection  of  pictures, 
(fee,  valued  at  £40,000,  bequeathed  by  Mr  R.  Newsham. 
The  Harris  Institute,  endowed  by  the  above-named  trustees 
with  £40,000,  is  established  in  a  building  of  classical  style 
erected  in  1849,  wherein  are  held  science  and  art  classes, 
and  where  is  placed  a  thoroughly  equipped  chemical 
laboratory.  For  the  grammar-school,  founded  in  1550, 
a  building  in  the  Tudor  style  was  erected  in  1841  by 
private  shareholders,  but  in  1860  they  sold  it  to  the 
corporation,  who  now  have  the  management  of  the  school. 
The  blue-coat  school,  founded  in  1701,  was  in  1817 
amalgamated  with  the  national  schools.  Preston  is  well 
supplied  with  public  recreation  grounds,  including  Aven- 
'  ham  Park,  the  Miller  Park  with  a  statue  of  the  14th  earl 
of  Derby,  and  the  Moor  Park.  Winckley  Square,  near  the 
centre  of  the  town,  has  a  monument  to  Sir  Robert  Peel. 

formerly  "proud"  Preston  was  a  place  of  "fashion  and 
society  ";  but  the  introduction  of  the  linen  manufacture  at 
the  end  of  the  18th  century  completely  altered  its  charac- 
ter. The  inventions  of  Sir  Richard  Arkviright,  who  was 
a  native  of  the  town,  found  in  Preston  early  acceptance; 
and  owing  to  its  convenient  communications  by  river, 
canal,  and  railway,  aided  by  native  enterprise,  it  has  become 
one  of  the  principal  seats  of  the  cotton  manufacture  in 
Lancashire.  There  are  also  iron  and  brass  foundries, 
engineering  works,  cotton -machinery  works,  and  steam- 
boiler  works,  and  a  considerable  and  increasing  coasting 
trade  with  Ireland  and  England.  In  1826  Preston  became 
a  creek  of  Lancaster;  in  1839" it  was  included  in  the  new 
port  of  Fleetwood ;  and  in  1843  it  was  constituted  an 
independent  port.  The  number  of  vessels  that  entered 
the  port  in  1883  was  129  of  9365  tons,  the  number  that 
cleared  137  of  9854  tons.  By  the  deepening  of  the 
Ribble  vessels  of  considerable  tonnage  can  now  unload  at 
the  new  quay.  But  much  more  extensive  operations  in 
connexion  with  the  improvement  of  the  port  have  (1885) 
been  projected.  At  an  estimate  cost  of  £800,000  the 
Ribble  is  to  be  deepened  for  a  distance  of  about  12  miles 
to  the  point  where  it  falls  into  the  Irish  Sea,  and  a  new 
wet  dock  is  to  be  constructed,  with  an  area  of  40  acres, 
in  the  centre  of  the  Ribble  valley,  between  the  existing 
river -course  and  the  intended  diversion  of  the  channel. 
The  dock  will  be  13,240  feet  long  and  600  feet  wide. 
Four  large  warehouses  are  to  be  erected  along  the  entire 
length  of  its  east  side  In  addition  to  the  main  dock  a 
timber  dock  of  25  acres  is  to  be  constructed,  and  also  two 
large  graving-docks,  enabling  vessels  up  to  1000  tons  burden 
to  be  constructed. 

The  population  of  the  parliamentary  borough  in  1811 
was.  17,115,  in  1841  50,073,  in  1871  85,427,  and  in  1881 
93,720 ;  that  of  the  municipal  borough,  the  area  of  which 
was  extended  in  1880  to  3721  acres,  amoimted  in  1881  to 
96,537  (males  44,264,  females  52,273).  Preston  returns 
two  members  to  the  House  of  Commons. 

At  'Walton-le-Dale,  close  to  Preston,  where  the  Roman  road 
crosses  the  Ribble,  there  are  remains  of  a  Roman  post.  Saxon 
ware,  as  well  cs  Roman  remains  and  coins,  have  been  found  in  the 
neighbourhood.  The  mound  at  Penwortham,  to  the  south-west  of 
the  town,  was  probably  a  mote-hill  of  the  Saxons.  Preston  owes 
its  rise  to  the  decay  of  Ribchester,  which  it  gradually  superseded 
ns  the  port  of  the  Ribble.  In  the  reign  of  Athelstane  the  wholit 
district  of  Amoundemess  was  granted  to  the  cathedral-church  ol 
York.  The  capital  of  the  hundred,  on  account  of  this  ecclesiastical 
connexion,  came  to  be  known  as  "  Pi-iest's  town,"  afterwards  changed 
to  "Preston."  It  possessed  two  monastic  foundations,  (1)  a  convent 
of  Grey  Friars  founded  in  1221  by  Edmund,  earl  of  Lancaster,  son  of 
Henry  II.,  a  little  to  the  west  of  the  Friargate,  and  occupied  after 
the  dissolution  first  as  a  private  residence,  then  until  1790  as  the 
house  of  correction,  and  subsequently  as  cottages,  and  now  super- 


P  R  E  — P  R  E 


719 


scJed  by  an  iron-fouudry  ;  and  (2)  an  ancient  hospital  dedicated  to 
St  Mary  Magdalen,  now  occupied  by  the  Roman  Catholic  church 
of  St  Walpurgis.  Tlie  town  is  celebrated  for  its  merchant  guild 
celebrations,  of  which  the  earliest  on  record  is  that  of  1329.  On 
RCtKiunt  of  the  devastations  to  which  the  district  was  subjected  by 
the  Danes  the  church  of  York  abandoned  its  possessions,  and  Tostig, 
brother  of  Harold,  became  lord  paramount.  At  the  Conquest  it  was 
granted,  along  with  other  possessions,  to  Roger  de  Poictou,  and  on 
his  defection  was  forfeited  to  the  crown.  It  possessed  at  an  early 
I^riod  the  charter  of  "a  guild  merchant,  with  hanse"  and  other 
customs  belonging  to  such  guild.  Another  charter  was  granted  by 
Henry  II.,  conferring  on  the  inhabitants  similar  privileges  and 
liberties  to  those  enjoyed  by  the  inhabitants  of  Newcastle-on-Tyne. 
Its  privileges  were  confirmed  and  extended  by  King  John,  and  in 
the  23d  of  Edward  I.  it  obtained  the  right  to  send  members  to 
I'arliament.  In  1323  Robert  Bruce  partly  destroyed  it  by  fire.  In 
1617  it  was  visited  by  James  I.  on  his  return  from  Scotland.  On 
tlie  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War  it  declared  for  King  Charles,  but  on 
the  12th  February  1643  it  was  taken  by  the  Parliamentary  forces 
under  Sir  John  Seaton.  Near  the  town,  on  the  17th  of  August 
15-18,  the  Scots  under  Hamilton  sustained  an  overwhelming  defeat 
from  Oliver  Cromwell.  On  the  9th  of  Kovember  1715  Preston  was 
occupied  by  the  troops  of  the  Pretender,  and  by  their  surrender  on 
tlio  13th  of  the  same  month  the  death-blow  was  given  to  his  cause. 
On  the  27th  of  November  1745  it  was  entered  by  Charles,  the  young 
Pretender,  on  his  Quixotic  march  towards  London.  By  the  Muni- 
cipal Act  of  1835  the  borough  is  divided  into  six  wards,  comprising 
the  ancient  borough  of  Preston  and  the  township  of  Fish  wick,  and 


13 


governed  by  a  mayor,  twelve  aldermen,  and  thirty-six  councillors. 

whittle,  Historical  AcccyinU  o/Pres/oJt,  1821-37  ;  Dobron,  H istory  of  tb£  Parlia- 
nenlary  RepreserUalian  of  Prfston^  1856,  2<l  ed.  1368  ;  Id.,  Preston  in  the  Olden 
Time,  1856  ;  Id.,  History  of  PreslOH  Guild,  1862  ;  Hai'dwick,  Uitlory  of  Preston, 
1867  :  Hewitson,  History  of  Preston,  1883. 

PRESTWICH,  a  township  of  Lancashire,  is  situated 
on  a  branch  of  the  Lancashire  and  Yorkshire  Railway,  4 
miles  north-west  of  Manchester  and  5  south  of  Bury.  It 
possesses  cotton  manufactures,  but  consists  chiefly  of 
handsome  mansions  and  villas  inhabited  by  Manchester 
merchants.  The  church  of  St  Bartholomew  occupies  an 
eminence  overlooking  the  Irwell.  In  the  neighbourhood 
is  the  county  lunatic  asylum.  The  population  of  the 
urban  sanitary  district  (area,  1917  acres)  in  1871  was 
6820,  and  in  1881  it  was  8627. 

PRESUMPTION.     See  Evidence,  vol.  viii.  p.  742  sq. 

PREVESA,  the  chief  town  of  a  sandjak  in  the  Turkish 
vilayet  of  Janina,  commanding  the  entrance  to  the  Gulf 
of  Arta.  Its  harbour  is  small,  but  it  is  a  port  of  call  for 
the  steamers  of  the  Austrian  Lloyd  and  has  a  considerable 
trade  in  the  export  of  oil,  wool,  valonia,  &c.  Prevesa, 
whicli  represents  the  ancient  Nicopolis  {q.v.),  has  a  popu- 
lation of  about  7000. 

PROVOST,  Pierre  (1751-1839),  son  of  a  Protestant 
clergyman  in  Geneva,  was  born  in  that  city  on  3d  March 
1751,  and  was  educated  for  a  clerical  career.  But  he  for- 
sook it  for  law,  and  this  too  he  quickly  deserted  to  devote 
himself  to  education  and  to  travelling.  He  became  inti- 
mate with  J.  J.  Rousseau,  and,  a  little  later,  with  Dugald 
Stewjart,  having  previously  distinguished  himself  as  a  trans- 
lator of  and  commentator  on  Euripides.  Frederick  II.  of 
Pru.ssia  secured  him  in  1780  as  professor  of  philosophy, 
and  made  him  member  of  the  Academy  of  Sciences  in 
Berlin.  He  there  became  acquainted  with  Lagrange,  and 
was  thus  led  to  turn  his  attention  to  science.  After  some 
years  spent  on  political  economy  (as  in  Adam  Smith's 
Wealth  of  Nations)  and  on  the  principles  of  the  fine  arts 
(in  connexion  with  which  ho  wrote,  for  the  Berlin  Memoirs, 
a  remarkable  dissertation  on  poetry)  ho  returned  to  Geneva 
and  commenced  his  works  on  mairnctisin  and  on  heat.  In- 
terrupted occasionally  in  his  studies  by  political  duties,  in 
which  he  was  often  tailed  to  the  front,  he  remained  pro- 
fessor of  philosophy  at  Geneva  till  he  was  called  in  1810  to 
the  chair  of  physics.  lie  died  at  Geneva  on  8th  April 
1839.  Pr6vost  published  much  on  philology,  philosophy, 
and  political  economy;  but  he  will  be  remembered  mainly 
on  two  accounts — (1)  his  having  published,  witli  additions 
of  his  own,  the  posthumous  memoiis  of  the  ingenious  Le 
Sage  (see  Atom,  vol.  iJi.  p.  46,  and  Attraction;  j  anj  {2^ 


his  having  first  enunciated  the  theory  of  exchanges  (see 
Radiation),  on  which  has  been  based  one  of  the  grandest 
experimental  methods  of  modern  times.  He  was  distin- 
guished as  much  for  his  moderation,  precision,  and  truth- 
fulness as  for  his  extraordinary  versatility. 

PRfiVOST  D'EXILLES,  Ajvtoine  Fi'.an(Jois '(i697- 
1763),  more  commonly  called  the  abb6  Provost,  one  of  the 
most  important  French  novelists  of  the  18th  century,  was 
born  at  Hesdin  in  Artois  on  1st  April  1697.  His  father 
was  of  good  family,  and  held  legal  employments  of  some 
importance.  Prevost  was  educated  by  the  Jesuits,  first  at 
Hesdin  and  then  at  Paris.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  left 
the  College  d'Harcourt  and  enlisted.  This  was,  however,  at 
the  close  of  the  War  of  the  Spanish  Succession,  and  he  soon 
returned  to  the  Jesuits,  and  was  almost  persuaded  to  enter 
the  order.  According  to  some  accounts  he  actually  did  so, 
but  a  truant  disposition  once  more  came  on  him  and  he 
again  joined  the  army,  apparently  obtaining  some  com- 
mission. It  is,  however,  not  easy  to  make  his  statement 
that  he  passed  five  or  six  years  thus  tally  with  the  positive 
assertion  that  in  1719  he  once  more  sought  the  cloister, 
this  time  joining  the  famous  learned  community  of  the 
Benedictines  of  St  Maur.  He  took  the  vows  finally  in 
1720,  and  it  would  appear  that  for  some  seven  years  he 
devoted  himself  without  repining  to  study  at  various 
houses  of  the  order,  preaching,  teaching,  and  writing  some 
part  of  the  Gallia  Christiana.  In  1727,  however,  or 
thereabouts  (for  the  details  of  Prevost's  life,  though  un- 
usually interesting,  are  most  vaguely  and  insufficiently 
recorded)  he  once  more  broke  bounds  and  fled  to  HoUani 
It  is  said  that  the  immediate  occasion  was  nothing  more 
than  a  wish  which  he  had  formed  to  be  transferred  to 
Cluny,  and  which  made  him  commit  some  technical  mis- 
demeanour. However  this  may  be,  he  was  for  six  years 
an  exile  in  Holland  and  Etigland,  and  one  story  even 
asserts  that  he  contracted  a  regular  or  rather  irregular 
marriage  during  this  period.  He  certainly  published  the 
first  of  his  remarkable  novels,  the  Memoires  (Tun  Uomme 
de  Qualite,  in  1728,  and  continued  them  for  some  years. 
Besides  this  he  produced  much  miscellaneous  work — Cleve- 
land, another  novel;  Jl/a7io;iXescaM<,  his  masterpiece  (which 
is  a  kind  of  appendix  to  his  first  book) ;  and  a  periodical 
publication,  partly  in  the  stylo  of  the  Spectator  and  partly 
in  that  of  a  literary  review,  called  Le  Four  et  le  Contre. 
All  these  were  begun  and  most  of  them  were  finished 
before  1735,  when  he  was  back  in  Franco  and  produced 
his  last  novel  of  importance,  the  Doyen  de  Killerine,  in 
which,  as  in  Cleveland,  he  made  much  use  of  his  English 
sojourn.  Ho  returned  to  France  openly  and  with  the 
royal  permission,  being  allowed  to  wear  the  dress  of  the 
secular  priesthood.  Among  his  patrons  the  cardinal  do 
Bissy  and  the  prince  do  Conti  are  named  ;  the  latter  made 
him  his  chaplain.  Ho  lived  for  nearly  thirty  years  longer, 
composing,  though  not  for  bread,  an  extraordinary  num- 
ber of  books,  some  of  them  original,  some  compilations. 
Amongst  thorn  were  an  Histoire  O'enirale  dcs  Voyages,  his- 
torical compilations  on  William  the  Conqueror  and  Margaret 
of  Anjou,  letters,  moral  essays,  semi-scientific  works,  trans- 
lations (including  Pamela  and  Clar-issa),  and  some  original 
pieces.  Of  all  these  the  novel  called  Ilistoire  d'uM  Greeque 
Moderns  (1741)  has  alone  attracted  some  attention  in 
modem  times.  Provost  was  a  facile  writer  and  a  fair  critic, 
but  except  for  his  first  three  novels,  and  especially  for 
Manon  Leseaut,  he  would  hardly  bo  remembered  save  a.'»  a 
man  of  a  curiously  eventful  an<l  very  imperfectly  record  d 
life.  Ilis  death  itself  has  a  kind  of  legendary  charactci-, 
and  some  of  the  circumstances  are,  it  may  be  hoped,  ficti 
tious.  Ho  lived  in  a  small  cottage  (for,  despite  his  im- 
mense literary  work  on  stibjects  which  for  the  most  part 
occupy  only  v.Titers  for  money,  ho  seems  to  have  written 


720 


V  R  E  — P  R  I 


purely  for  love)  at  Chantilly,  and  it  was  his  custom  to  walk 
much  in  the  woods  there.  What  is  agreed  is  that  he  was 
struck  with  apoplexy  during  one  of  these  walks,  on  23d 
November  1763,  and  was  found  senseless.  The  legend  adds 
the  hideous  particular  that  he  was  not  dead,  and  that  a 
clumsy  village  surgeon,  heedlessly  beginning  what  he  sup- 
posed to  be  a  post-mortem  examination,  at  once  recalled  his 
patient  to  life  and  killed  him.  Even  without  this  detaU 
there  is  sufficient  romantic  interest  (without  other  stories, 
some  of  them  demonstrably  fictitious,  such  as  that  he  was 
accidentally  the  cause  of  his  father's  death)  about  this  life 
of  a  man  who  is  at  the  same  time  uniformly  represented 
as  an  indefatigable  student  and  one  of  a  quiet  and  easy- 
going tevjperamunt. 

Prevosfs  three  chief  romances,  the  Memoires,  Cleveland,  and  the 
Doyen  de  Killirine,  are  not  unremarkable,  because  they  hold  a 
kind  of  middle  place  between  the  incident-romance  of  Le  Sage  and 
Defoe  and  the  sentiment- romance  of  Marivaux  and  Richardson; 
but  they  all  have  the  defect  of  intolerable  length  and  of  an  indefinite 
fluency.  Manon  Lescaut,  his  one  masterpiece,  and  one  of  the 
greatest  novels  of  the  century,  is  in  both  these  respects  so  different 
that  it  might  seem  impossible  that  the  same  man  should  have 
written  it.  It  is  very  short,  it  is  entirely  free  from  improbable 
incident,  it  is  penetrated  by  the  truest  and  the  most  cunningly 
managed  feeling,  and  almost  every  one  of  its  characters  is  a  triumph 
of  that  analytic  portraiture  which  is  the  secret  of  the  modem  novel. 
The  chevalier  des  Grieu.t,  the  hero,  is  probably  the  most  perfect 
example  of  the  carrying  out  of  the  seutiment  "All  for  love  and  the 
world  well  lost"  that  exists  in  fiction  (it  is  curious  that  Prevost 
translated  Dryden's  play  of  the  name),  at  least  where  the  circum- 
stances are  those  of  ordinary  and  probable  life.  Tiberge,  his  friend, 
is  hardly  inferior  in  the  difficult  part  of  mentor  and  reasonable 
man.  Lescaut,  the  heroine's  brother,  has  vigorous  touches  as  a 
bully  and  Bohemian ;  but  the  triumph  of  the  book  is  Manon  herself. 
Animated  by  a  real  affection  for  her  lover,  and  false  to  him  only 
because  her  incurable  love  of  splendour,  comfort,  and  luxury  prevents 
her  from  welcoming  privation  with  him  or  for  him,  though  in  efl"ect 
she  prefers  him  to  all  others,  perfectly  natural  and  even  amiable 
in  her  degradation,  and  yet  showing  the  moral  of  that  degradation 
more  .vividly  than  a  hundred  characters  drawn  with  a  less  compla- 
cent pencil  could  have  done,  Manon  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
heroines  in  all  fiction.  She  had  no  literary  ancestress  ;  she  seems 
to  have  sprung  entirely  from  the  imagination,  or  perhaps  the 
sympathetic  observation,  of  the  wandering  scholar  who  drew  her. 
Only  the  Prvxcesse  de  Olives  can  challenge  comparison  with  her 
before  or  near  to  her  own  date,  and  in  Ma7U»i  Lescaut  the  plot  is 
much  more  complete  and  interesting,  the  sentiments  less  artificial, 
and  the  whole  story  nearer  to  actual  life  than  in  Madame  de  la 
Fayette's  masterpiece.  It  is  not  easy  to  name  a  novel  on  the  same 
scale  which  is  more  directly  and  naturally  aflecting  at  a  first 
reading,  and  which  on  subsequent  study  approves  itself  more 
thoroughly  as  a  work  of  art,  than  Manon  Lescaut. 

There  i3  no  complete  edition  of  Prevosfs  works.  CEuvres  ChoisUs  were  pub- 
lished in  1783,  and  again  in  1808.     Of  Manm  Lescaut  the  editions  are  very 


nomerous. 


PRfiVOST-PARADOL,  Lucien  Anatole  (1829-1870), 
a  writer  whose  career,  except  in  its  unhappy  end,  was 
typical  of  the  importance  of  journalism  in  France,  was 
born  at  Paris  on  the  8th  of  August  1829.  His  mother  was 
an  actress ;  little  is  said  of  his  father.  He  was  educated  at 
the  College  Bourbon,  showed  great  brilliancy  and  precocity, 
and  entered  the  ficole  Normale.  In  1855  he  was  appointed 
professor  of  French  literature  at  Aix.  He  held  the  post, 
however,  barely  a  year,  resigning  it  to  take  up  the  pen  of 
&  leader-writer  on  the  Journal  des  Debats.  He  also  wrote 
in  the  Courrier  du  Dimanckf,  and  for  a  very  short  time  in 
the  Presse.  Even  before  his  appointment  at  Aix  he  had 
produced  a  book,  Revue  de  I'Histoire  Universelle  (1854), 
and  he  continued  to  publish  at  short  invervals,  his  chief 
work  being  a  collection  of  essays  on  politics  and  literature, 
■which  appeared  between  1859  and  1866,  and  some  Essais 
sur  les  Moralistes  Frangais  (1864).  He  was,  however, 
r  ither  a  journalist  than  a  writer  of  books,  and  was  one  of 
'-he  chief  opponents  of  the  empire  on  the  side  of  moderate 
liberalism.  He  underwent  the  usual  and  popular  diffi- 
culties of  a  journalist  under  that  regime,  and  was  once 
imprisoned.  In  1865,  at  the  extraordinarily  early  age  of 
tliirty-five,  he  was  elected  an  Academician.     He  was  twice 


a  candidate  for  election  to  the  Chamber,  but  failed  each 
time.  Three  years  later  he  visited  England  and  was 
publicly  entertained  at  Edinburgh,  an  entertainment  which 
was  the  occasion  of  some  rather  undignified  and  very  foolish 
contrasts  drawn  in  the  English  press  between  the  position 
of  journalists  in  the  two  countries.  The  accession  of  £mile 
Ollivier  to  power  was  fatal  to  Prevost-Paradol.  There  ia 
no  reason  for  doubting  that,  in  common  with  some  of  the 
best  men  in  France,  he  believed  in  the  possibility  of  a 
liberal  empire,  and  he  accepted  the  appointment  of  envoy 
to  the  United  States.  This  was  the  signal  for  the  most 
unmeasured  attacks  on  him  from  the  republican  party. 
He  had  scarcely  installed  himself  in  his  post  before  the 
outbreak  of  war  between  France  and  Prussia  occurred. 
Either  an  exaggerated  feeling  of  patriotism,  or  the  dis- 
appointment of  his  hopes  in  the  combined  wisdom  of  M. 
Ollivier  and  the  emperor,  or  (as  his  enemies  said)  remorse 
at  having  betrayed  his  party  for  nothing,  or  more  probably 
the  action  of  startling  news  on  an  excitable  temperament 
and  a  mind  weakened  and  irritated  by  the  personal  in- 
vectives to  which  he  had  been  subject,  threw  his  intellect 
and  will  out  of  gear.  He  committed  suicide  at  New  York 
on  20th  July  1870.  Prevost-Paradol  was  not  in  any  sense 
a  strong  man,  and,  except  for  his  tragic  end,  his  name  is 
not  very  likely  to  live  either  in  literature  or  politics.  His 
style  was  light  and  facile,  but  at  the  same  time  flimsy,  and 
his  thoughts  were  rarely  profound.  But  he  had  for  a  time 
"  I'esprit  de  tout  le  monde "  in  France,  and  the  personal 
system  of  journalism  forced  him  into  unnatural  prominence 
and  productiveness. 

PRIAM.     See  Troy.. 

PRIAPU^,  the  Greek  god  of  teeming  flock  and  fruit- 
ful field.  He  was  unknown  to  the  earliest  Greek  poets 
Homer  and  Hesiod,  but  in  later  times  his  worship  pre- 
vailed on  the  fertile  coasts  of  Asia  Minor.  Lampsacus 
on  the  Hellespont,  nestKng  in  its  vineyards,  claimed  to  be 
his  birthplace.  According  to  the  people  of  Lampsacus 
he  was  the  son  of  Dionysus  and  Aphrodite.  Having  the 
misfortune,  as  a  child,  to  be  plain-looking,  Priapus  was 
abandoned  by  his  heartless  parents,  but  a  gentle  shepherd 
who  chanced  to  pass  that  way  found  and  reared  the  help- 
less babe  like  his  own  son.  As  the  youthful  god  grew  to 
manhood  he  repaid  his  benefactor  by  making  the  flocks 
and  herds  to  bring  forth  and  multiply.  So  the  simple 
shepherds  worshipped  him  and  brought  him  offerings  of 
the  fatlings  of  their  flocks, — lambs  and  goats  and  heifers, 
and  even,  it  is  said,  donkeys.  As  the  god  and  guardian 
of  gardens,  vineyards,  and  orchards  he  received  sacrifices 
of  fruits  and  vegetables,  and  images  of  him  were  set  up 
in  gardens  to  frighten  birds  and  thieves.  Bees  too  were 
his  especial  care,  and  he  had  power  to  disarm  the  evil  eye. 
Fishermen  prayed  to  him  for  an  abundant  harvest  of  the 
sea,  and  sailors  in  their*sore  distress  called  on  him,  and  he 
answered  and  saved  them.  On  many  a  wave-beaten  blulT 
his  image  stood  and  his  altar  smoked,  decked  with  flowers 
the  earliest  of  the  year,  when  winter  storms  were  over  and 
summer  seas  allured  the  mariner  to  launch  his  bark  again. 
In  the  rites  of  Dionysus  homage  was  paid  to  the  rural 
god  with  mirth  and  laughter.  From  Greece  he  passed  to 
Italy,  and  continued  in  his  new  home  to  discharge  his  old 
functions  of  garden-god  and  scarecrow. 

PRIBRAM  or  Przibraii,  a  prosperous  mining  town  of 
Bohemia,  is  situated  about  32  miles  S.W.  of  Prague.  The 
lead-mines  in  the  vicinity  have  been  vrorked  for  several 
centuries  and  are  especially  importait  en  account  of  the 
large  quantity  of  silver  extracted  from  the  ere.  In  average 
years  this  r.mc-jr.t.?  to  70,000  If),  ropresenling  a  money  value 
of  nearly  X300,000.  Tho  mines  belong  to  the  Government 
and  employ  about  5000  per.sons.  One  of  the  -shafts,  3350 
feet  deep,   is  among  the  deepest  in  the  world.     Bcf-.idos 


P  R  I  — P  R  I 


721 


mining,  the  inhabitants  occupy  themselves  in  making 
glass  beads,  soap,  candles,  beer,  and  liqueurs.  The  most 
interesting  buildings  are  the  old  deanery  and  church,  and 
the  archiepiscopal  palace,  now  converted  into  a  mining 
academy.  At  the  top  of  the  Heiliger  Berg,  a  hill  rising 
above  the  town,  is  a  church  with  a  wonder-working  image 
of  the  Virgin,  which  attracts  numerous  pilgrims.  The 
population  of  Pribram  in  1880  was  11,171,  or,  including 
the  adjacent  Birkenberg,  where  the  largest  mines  are 
situated,  14,881. 

PRICE,  RiCHAED  (1723-1791),  philosopher,  son  of  a 
Dissenting  minister,  was  born  on  2.3d  February  1723,  at 
Tynton,  in  the  parish  of  Llangeinor,  Glamorganshire.  His 
education  was  conducted  partly  by  private  tutors,  partly 
at  private  schools.  His  father  was  a  bigoted  Calvinist  and 
seems  to  have  been  a  person  of  morose  temper,  facts  which 
may  account,  on  the  principle  of  reaction,  for  the  liberal 
opinions  and  the  benevolent  disposition  of  the  son.  Young 
Price  appears  at.  an  early  age  to  have  studied  the  works 
of  Clarke  and  Butler,  and  to  have  conceived  a  special 
admiration  for  the  theological  and  philosophical  works  of 
the  latter  writer.  In  his  eighteenth  year  he  removed  to 
a  Dissenting  academy  in  London,  and,  having  completed 
his  education,  became  chaplain  and  companion  to  a  Mr 
Streatfield  at  Stoke-Newington.  While  still  occuppng 
this  position  he  officiated  in  various  Dissenting  congrega- 
tions, such  as  those  in  the  Old  Jewry,  Edmonton,  and 
Newington  Green.  By  the  death  of  Mr  Streatfield  and 
of  an  uncle  in  1756. his  circumstances  were  considerably 
improved,  and  in  the  following  year,  the  year  in  which 
he  first  published  his  best-knpwn  work,  a  Review  of  the 
Principal  Questiovs  in  Morals,  he  married  a  Miss  Sarah 
Blundell,  originally  of  Belgrave  in  Leicestershire.  Price 
now  resided  at  Newington  Green,  where  his  time  appears 
to  have  been  mainly  occupied  in  the  performance  of  his 
ministerial  duties,  though  he  made  occasional  excursion^ 
into  the  regions  of  mathematics  and  philosophy.  In  1767 
he  published  a  volume  of  sermons,  including  One  on  the 
future  state,  which  attracted  the  attention  and  gained 
him  the  acquaintance  of  Lord  Shelburne,  an  event  which 
had  much  influence  in  raising  his  reputation  and  deter- 
mining the  character  of  his  subsequent  pursuits.  Soon 
after  this  date  he  added  to  his  duties  at  Newington  Green 
those  of  morning  preacher  to  a  congregation  at  Hackney, 
where  his  audience  appears  to  have  been  more  numerous 
and  appreciative  than  any  which  ho  had  heretofore  suc- 
ceeded in  keeping  together. 

But  it  was  not  so  much  in  the  capacity  of  a  religious 
teacher  as  a  writer  on  financial  and  political  questions  that 
Price  was  destined  to  become  known  to  his  countrymen  at 
large.  In  1769  he  wrote  some  observations  addressed  in 
a  letter  to  Dr  Franklin  on  the  expectation  of  Lives,  the  in- 
crease of'mankind,  and  the  population  of  London,  which 
were  published  in  the  Philosophical  Transa/:tion3  of  that 
year;  and,  again,  in  May  1770,  he  communicated  to  the 
Royal  Society  some  observations  on  the  proper  method  of 
calculating  the  values  of  contingent  reversions.  The  pub- 
lication of  these  papers  is  said  to  have  exercised  a  most 
beneficial  influence  in  drawing  attention  to  the  inadequate 
calculations  on  which  many  insurance  and  benefit  societies 
had  recently  been  formed.  In  the  year  1769  Price  re- 
ceived the  degree  of  D.D.  from  the  university  of  Glasgow. 
In  1771  he  published  his  Appeal  to  the  Public  on  the 
Subject  of  the  National  Debt,  of  which  subsequent  editions 
appeared  in  1772  and  1774.  This  pamphlet  excited  con- 
siderable controversy  at  the  time  of  its  publication,  and  is 
supposed  to  have  influenced  Pitt  in  re-establishing  the 
sinking  fund  for  the  extinction  of  the  national  debt, 
which  had  been  created  by  Walpole  in  1716  and  abolished 
in  1733.     That  Price's  main  object,  the  extinction  of  the 

19—26 


national  debt,  was  a  laudable  and  desirable  one  would 
now  probably  be  universally  acknowledged.  The  particu; 
lar  means,  however,  which  he  proposed  for  the  purpose  of 
effecting  this  object  are  described  by  Lord  Overstone  *  33 
"a  sort  of  hocus-pocus  machinery,"  supposed  to  work  "with- 
out loss  to  any  one,"  and  consequently  purely  delusive. 
As  Lord  Overstone  says,  all  the  sinking  funds  that  have 
been  set  on  foot  have  been  supported  either  by  loans  or 
by  the  produce  of  taxes,  and  have  never  paid  off  a  single 
shilling  of  debt  by  their  own  agency.  In  1829  Pitt's 
sinking  fund  was  abolished  by  Act  of  parliament. 

A  subject  of  a  much  more  popular  kind  was  next  to 
employ  Dr  Price's  pen.  Being  an  ardent  lover  of  civil 
and  religious  liberty,  he  had  from  the  first  been  strongly 
opposed  to  the  war  with  the  American  colonies,  and  in 
1776  he  published  a  pamphlet  entitled  Observations  on 
Civil  Lihertiji  and  the  Justice  and  Policy  of  the  War  viith 
America.  Several  thousand  copies  of  this  work  were 
sold  within  a  few  days  ;  a  cheap  edition  was  soon  issued  ; 
the  pamphlet  was  extolled  by  one  set  of  politicians  and 
abused  by  another  ;  amongst  its  critics  were  Dr  Markham, 
archbishop  of  York,  John  Wesley,  and  Edmund  Burke  ; 
and  its  author  rapidly  became  one  of  the  best-known  men 
in  England.  In  recognition  of  his  services  in  the  cause  of 
liberty  by  the  publication  of  this  pamphlet,  Dr  Price  was 
presented  with  the  freedom  of  the  city  of  London,  and  it 
is  said  that  the  encouragement  derived  from  this  book  had 
no  inconsiderable  share  in  determining  the  Americans  to 
declare  their  independence.  A  second  pamphlet  on  the 
war  with  America,  the  debts  of  Great  Britain,  and  kindred 
topics  followed  in  the  spring  of  1777,  ard  whenever  the 
Government  thought  proper  to  proclaim  a  fast-day  Dr 
Price  took  the  opportunity  of  declaring  his  sentiments  on 
the  folly  and  mischief  of  the  war.  His  nam«  thus  became 
identified,  for  good  repute  and  for  evil  repute,  with  the 
cause  of  American  independence.  He  was  the  intimate 
friend  of  Franklin  ;  he  corresponded  with  Turgot ;  and 
in  the  winter  of  1778  he  was  actually  invited  by  Congress 
to  transfer  himself  to  America  and  assist  in  the  financial 
administration  of  the  insurgent  States.  This  offer  he 
refused  from  imwillingness  to  quit  his  own  country  and 
his  family  connexions,  concluding  his  letter,  however,  with 
the  prophet'c  words  that  he  looked  "to  the  United  States 
as  now  the  hope,  and  likely  soon  to  become  the  refuge,  of 
mankind." 

One  of  Price's  most  intimate  friends  was  the  celebrated 
Dr  Priestley,  but  this  circumstance  did  not  prevent  thera 
from  taking  the  most  opposite  views  on  the  great  questions 
of  morals  and  metaphysics.  In  1778  appeared  a  published 
correspondence  between  these  two  liberal  theologians  on 
the  .subjects  of  materialism  and  necessity,  wherein  Price 
maintains,  in  opposition  to  Priestley,  the  free  agency  of 
man  and  the  unity  and  immateriality  of  the  human  soul. 
Both  Price  and  Priestley  were  in  theological  opinion  what 
would  now  vaguely  be  called  "  Unitarians,"  though  they 
occupied  respectively  the  extreme  right  and  the  extreme 
left  position  of  that  school.  Indeed  Price's  opinions  would 
seem  to  have  been  rather  Arian  than  Socinian. 

After  the  publication  of  his  pamphlet  on  the  Americ(^> 
war  Dr  Price  became  an  important  personage.  He  now 
preached  to  crowded  congregations,  and,  whe;i  Lord  Shel- 
burne acceded  to  power,  not  only  was  he  offered  the  port 
of  private  secretary  to  the  premier,  but  it  is  said  that  ont 
of  the  paragraphs  in  the  king's  speech  was  suggested  by 
him  and  even  inserted  in  his  very  words. 

In  1786  Mrs  Price  died,  and  as  there  were  no  children 
by  the  marriage,  and  his  own  health  was  failing,  the 
remainder  of  Price's  life  appears  to  have  been  somewhat 

*  Lord  Ovoratono  reprinted  iu  1857,  far  private  cirouUtion,  Prlco't 
tad  other  rare  tracts  oa  the  national  d«bt  uid  the  tiuking  fund. 


722 


P  R  I  —  P  R  I 


clouded  by  solitude  and  dejection.  It  was  illuminated, 
however,  by  one  bright  gleam,  the  eager  satisfaction  with 
■which  he  witnessed  the  passing  events  of  the  French 
Hevolution.  "I  could  almost  say,  Lord,  now  lettest  thou 
thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy 
salvation.  .  .  .  After  sharing  in  the  benefits  of  one 
Eevolution,  I  have  been  spared  to  be  a  witness  to  two 
other  revolutions,  both  glorious."  ^  The  darker  side  of 
the  picture  he  happily  did  not  live  to  see.  On  the  19th 
of  April  1791  he  died,  worn  out  with  suffering  and  disease. 
His  funeral  was  conducted  at  Bunhill  Fields  by  Dr  Kippis, 
and  his  funeral  sermon  was  preached  on  tie  following 
Sunday  by  Dr  Priestley,  names  which,  like  his  own,  are 
speciaUj  honourable  in  the  roll  of  English  Nonconformist 
divines. 

On  the  4th  of  November  1789  Price  had  preached  at 
the  meeting-house  in  the  Old  Jewry,  before  the  Society 
for  commemorating  the  Revolution  in  Great  Britain,  his 
celebrated  sermon  on  the  Love  of  our  Country.  This 
sermon,  together  with  a  speech  subsequently  made  by  him 
at  a  public  dinner  at  the  London  Tavern,  rendered  him 
peculiarly  obnoxious  to  Burke,  and  brought  down  upon 
him  some  of  the  fiercest  denunciations  of  that  brilliant 
but  impassioned  writer  in  his  Reflections  on  the  Mevolution 
in  France. 

Price's  reputation  rests  mainly  Ufyon  the  position  which  he 
occupies  in  the  history  of  moral  philosophy.  His  ethical  theories 
are  contained  in  the  treatise  already  mentioned,  a  Review  of  the 
Principal  Questions  in  Morals,  the  third  edition  of  which,  express- 
ing "the  author's  latest  and  maturest  thoughts,"  was  published  in 
1787.  This  work  is  professedly  directed  against  the  doctrines  of 
Hutcheson,  but  the  treatment  as  a  whole  is  constructive  rather 
than  polemical.  Price's  views  approximate  more  closely  to  those 
of  '^'■udworth  than  to  those  of  any  other  English  moralist  ;  but  they 
are  mainly  interesting  in  the  history  of  morals  on  account  of  their 
resemblance  to  the  theories  subsequently  propounded  by  Kant. 
The  main  positions  of  Price's  treatise  are  three,  which  may  be 
stated  as  follows  : — (1)  actions  are  in  themsehes  right  or  wrong  ;  (2) 
right  and  \\Tong  are  simple  ideas  incapable  of  analysis  ;  (3)  these 
ideas  are  perceived  immediately  by  the  intuitive  power  of  the  reason 
or  understanding,  terms  which  he  employs  indifferently. 

To  the  first  of  these  positions  it  is  not,  at  first  sight,  easy  to 
attach  any  precise  meaning,  nor  does  even  a  careful  perusal  of  the 
work  altogether  remove  the  ambiguity.  The  most  natural  inter- 
pretation, perhaps,  of  the  expression  that  "an  action  is  right  in 
Itself"  is  that  it  is  right  without  any  relation  to  the  nature  of  the 
agent,  the  end  aimed  at,  or  the  circumstances  under  which  it  is 
performed.  But,  apart  from  the  fact  that  the  objections  to  such  a 
theory  would  be  too  obvious  to  be  overlooked,  the  following  passage 
is  sufficient  to  show  that  Price  cannot  have  entertained  it :  "  All 
actions  being  necessarily  right,  indifferent,  or  wrong;  what  deter- 
mines which  of  these  an  action  should  be  accounted  is  the  truth 
of  the  case,  or  the  relations  and  circumstances  of  the  agent  and  the 
objects.  In  certain  relations  there  is  a  certain  conduct  right. 
There  are  certain  manners  of  behaviour  which  we  unavoidably 
approve,  as  soon  as  these  relations  are  known.  Change  the  rela- 
tions, and  a  different  manner  of  behaviour  becomes  right.  Nothing 
is  clearer  than  that  what  is  due  or  undue,  proper  or  improper  to 
be  done,  must  vary  according  to  the  different  natures  and  circum- 
stances of  beings.  If  a  particular  treatment  of  one  nature  is  right, 
it  is  impossilile  that  the  same  treatment  of  a  different  nature,  or 
of  all  natures,  should  be  right"  (ch.  vi. ).  What,  then,  does  he 
mean  by  the  phrase  that  "  an  action  is  right  or  wrong  in  itself"  ? 
Excluding  the  meaning  which  we  have  set  aside,  he  mi\y  wish  to 
express  either  that  actions  are  right  or  wrong  irrespectively  of  their 
consequences,  or  that  the  same  action  would  appear  right  or  ^vrong 
not  to  man  only  but  to  all  intelligent  beings,  or,  as  seems  to  be 
the  case,  he  may  sometimes  wish  to  express  one  of  these  meanings 
and  sometimes  the  other. 

The  second  and  third  positions,  that  right  and  wron^  are  simple 
ideas  incapable  of  analysis,  and  that  they  are  perceived  by  arr 
intuitive  act  of  the  reason,  are  succinctly  stated  in  the  following 
passage  :  *'  "i'is  a  very  necessary  previous  observation  that  our  ideas 
of  right  and  wrong  are  simple  ideas,  and  must  therefore  be  ascribed 
to  some  power  of  immediate  percepiion  in  the  human  mind.  He 
that  doubts  tliis,  need  ouly  try  to  give  definitions  of  tliem,  which 
•hall  amount  to  more  than  synonymous  expressions  "  (ch.  i.  sect.  1). 
In  this  and  similar  passages  the  (Question  in  di.<*pute  between  the 
two  rival  schools  of  moralist:  is  brought  to  a  definite  issue.     Does 

'  Senium  on  the  Love  of  our  Country. 


the  term  "right"  adroit  of  any  explanation,  definition,  or  analysis,  ol 

is  it  simply  ine.xplicable  ?  'Ihe  majority  of  moralists  have  adrpted 
the  former  alternative,  and  have  endeavoured  to  explain  the  idea 
of  right  in  subordination  to  th.it  of  good.  Any  course  of  action 
which  has,  on  the  whole,  a  tendency  to  promote  the  happiness  or 
to  alleviate  the  misery  of  mankind  they  denominate  as  right ;  and 
any  course  of  action  which  has  a  contrary  tendency  tliey  denomi- 
nate as  wrong.  Price,  on  the  other  hand,  maintains  that  when  wo 
say  an  action  is  right  we  can  give  no  further  account  of  it,  that 
we  state  an  ultimate  fact  which  neither  requires  nor  can  receive 
any  further  explanation.  The  connexion  of  the  third  with  the  first 
and  second  positions  is  obvious.  Right  and  wrong,  being  simple 
ideas,  and  being,  moreover,  qualities  of  actions,  considered  in  them- 
selves, are  regarded  by  Price  as  being  perceived  immediately  by 
the  reason  just  in  the  same  way  that  colour  is  perceived  by  the 
eye  or  sound  by  the  ear.  That  they  are  perceived  immediately 
follows  from  the  fact  that  they  are  simple  ideas,  incapable  of 
analysis  ;  that  they  are  perceived  by  the  reason  or  understanding, 
and  not  by  a  sense,  is  maintained  in  an  elaborate  course  of  argument 
against  Hutcheson.  When  the  reason  or  understanding  has  once 
apprehended  the  idea  of  right,  it  ought  to  impose  that  idea  as  a 
law  upon  the  will ;  and  thus  it  becomes,  equi-dly  with  the  affections, 
a  spring  of  action. 

The  place  of  the  emotional  part  of  our  nature  in  this  system  is 
not  very  clear.  The  predominant  view,  however,  appears  to  be 
that,  while  it  is  the  source  of  all  vicious  action,  it  may,  when 
enlightened  by  reason,  aid  in  the  determination  of  virtuous  conduct. 
The  school  of  Hutcheson,  on  the  other  hand,  maintains  that  the 
emotions  are,  in  the  last  analysis,  the  original  source  of  all  conduct, 
be  it  virtuous  or  vicious. 

As  already  stated,  the  English  moralist  with  whom  Price  has 
most  affinity  is  Cudworth.  The  main  point  of  difference  is  that, 
while  Cudworth  regards  the  ideas  of  right  and  wrong  as  vo-fn^ara  or 
modifications  of  the  intellect  itself,  existing  first  in  germ  and  after- 
wards developed  by  circumstances,  Price  seems  rather  to  regard  them 
as  acquired  from  the  contemplation  of  actions,  though  acquired 
necessarily,  immediately,  and  intuitively. 

Those  who  are  familiar  with  the  writings  of  Kant  (which  are 

Eosterior  to  those  of  Price)  will  recogni2e  many  points  of  resemblance 
oth  in  the  fundamental  ideas  and  in  the  modes  of  expression. 
Amongst  these  points  are  the  exaltation  of  reason  ;  the  depreciation 
of  the  affections  ;  the  unwillingness  of  both  authors  to  regard  the 
"partial  and  accidental  structure  of  humanity,"  the  "mere  make 
and  constitution  of  man,"  as  the  basis  of  morality, — in  other 
words,  to  recognize  ethical  distinctions  as  relative  to  human  nature ; 
the  ultimate  and  irresolvable  character  of  the  idea  of  rectitude  ;  the 
notion  that  the  reason  imposes  this  idea  as  a  law  upon  the  will, 
becoming  thus  our  independent  spring  of  action  ;  the  insistence 
upon  the  reality  of  liberty  or  "the  fower  of  acting  and  deter- 
mining"; the  importance  attached  to  reason  as  a  distinct  source 
of  ide.-is  ;  and,  it  may  be  added,  the  discrimination  (so  celebrated 
in  the  philosophy  of  Kant)  of  the  moral  (or  practical)  and  the 
spcQulative  understanding  (or  reason).^ 

Price's  ethical  theories  are  almost  the  antithesis  of  those  of  Paley, 
whose  iforal  avd  Political  Philosophy  appeared  in  1785.  Speak- 
ing of  this  work  in  his  third  edition  Price  says,  "Never  have  I  met 
with  a  theory  of  morals  which  has  appeared  to  me  more  exception- 
able." 

Most  of  Price's  more  important  works  have  been  already  mentioned.  To 
these  may  be  added  an  Essay  on  Ou  Population  of  England  (2d  ed.,  1780) ;  two 
Fast-day  Serjiions,  published  respectively  in  1779  and  1781 ;  and  Observations  on 
the  importance  of  the  American  Revolution  and  the  means  of  rendering  it  a  benefit 
to  the  K'orld,  1784.  A  complete  list  of  his  works  is  given  as  an  appenduc  to 
Dr  Priestley's  Funeral  Sermon.  Notices  of  Price's  ethical  system  occur  in 
Mackintosli's  Progress  of  Ethical  Philosophy,  Jouffroy's  Introduction  to  Ethics, 
WheweU's  History  of  M'.ral  Philosovhy  in  England,  Bain's  Mental  and  Moral 
Sciences,  the  article  on  Ethics  (vol.  viii.  pp.  603,  604),  and  a  monograph  on 
Shafteibury  and  Hutcheson  by  the  WTiter  of  this  article  in  Sampson  Low  Si 
Co.'s  series  of  English  Philosophers.  The  authority  for  hja  life  ia  rf  memnir  by 
his  nephew,  William  Morgan.  (T.  F  ) 

PRICHARD,  James  Co-vtles  (1786-1848),  the  founder 
of  ethnology  or  anthropology  in  England,  was  born  on  11th 
February  1786  at  Ross  in  Herefordshire.  His  parents 
were  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  and  his  career  ih  after  life 
partly  turned  on  his  not  receiving  the  then  narrow  course 
of  school  education,  but  a  ■wider  home  training  in  modern 
languages  and  general  literature.  Living  at  Bristol,  he 
occupied  himself  much  in  examining  the  natives  of  different 
countries  who  were  to  be  met  with  amongst  the  shipping  of 
the  port,  and  he  would  occasionally  bring  a  foreigner  to  his 
father's  house.  Thus  in  early  life  he  laid  a  foundation  for 
his  later  researches,  and  he  was  mainly  led  to  adopt  medi- 
cine as  a  profession  from  the  facilities  which  its  study  offered 

'  Price  does  not,  like  Kant,  distinguish  between  the  words  "rea»<i»» 
and  "understanding." 


\£i§ 


P  R  I  — F  R  r 


72.7 


for  the'investigation  of  man.  He  took  his  degree  at  Edin-- 
burgh,  afterwards  reading  for  a  year  at  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge,  whence,  joining  the  Church  of  England,  he 
migrated  to  St  John's  College,  Oxford,  afterwards  entering 
as  a  gentleman  commoner  at  Trinity  College,  Oxford,  but 
seeking  no  degree  in  either  university.  In  1810  he  settled 
at  Bristol  as  a  physician,  and  in  1813  published  his  Ee- 
learrkes  into  the  Physical  History  of  Man,  in  2  vols.,  after- 
wards e.xtended  to  5  vols.  The  central  principle  of  the 
book  is  the  primitive  unity  of  the  human  species,  acted 
upon  by  causes  which  have  since  divided  it  into  permanent 
varieties  or  races.  Dr  Prichard  states  that  he  was  led  into 
this  inquiry  by  the  diversity  of  races  being  alleged  as  a 
disproof  of  the  Jlosaic  records  ;  in  argument,  however,  he 
endeavoured  not  to  rely  on  theology,  but  to  proceed  "  by 
the  ordinary  method  of  observation  and  experience."  The 
work  is  dedicated  to  Blumenbach,  whose  five  races  of  man 
are  adopted.  But  where  Prichard  excelled  Blumenbach 
and  all  his  o'ther  predecessors  was  in  his  grasp  of  the 
principle  that  people  should  be  studied  by  combining  all 
available  characters,  and  he  accordingly  discusses  them 
at  large  with  regard  at  once  to  bodily  form,  language,  and 
state  of  civilization.  One  investigation  begun  in  this  work 
requires  special  mention,  the  bringing  into  view  of  the  fact, 
neglected  or  contradicted  by  philologists,  that  the  Celtic 
nations  are  allied  by  language  with  the  Slavonian,  German, 
and  Pelasgian  (Greek  and  Latin),  thus  forming  a  fourth 
European  branch  of  the  Asiatic  stock  (which  would  now 
be  called  Indo-European  or  Aryan).  Prichard,  whose- own 
Celtic  descent  is  shown  by  his  name,  was  a  fitting  pro- 
mulgator of  this  leading  principle  of  Celtic  research.  His 
special  treatise  containing  Celtic  compared  with  Sanskrit 
words  appeared  in  1831  under  the  title  Eastern  Oriffin  of 
the  Celtic  Nations.  It  is  remarkable  that  the  essay  by 
Adolphe  Pictet,  De  I'Affinite  des  Langues  Celtiques  avec  le 
Sanscrit,  which  was  crowned  by  the  French  Academy  and 
made  its  author's  reputation,  should  have  been  published 
i  in  1837  in  evident  ignorance  of  the  earlier  and  in  some 
respects  stricter  investigations  of  Prichard.  His  work  has 
been  re-edited  since  by  Dr  R.  G.  Latham  (London,  1857), 
with  large  additions  of  Celtic  material.  Prichard's  Analy- 
iia  of  Egyptian  Mythology  (London,  1819)  had  some  popu- 
larity at  the  time,  and  was  translated  into  German  with  a 
preface  by  A.  W.  v.  Schlegel ;  its  comparison  of  the  Egyptian 
religion  with  Brahmanisni  is  now  obsolete,  and  its  author 
was  unwise  in  bringing  out  a  new  edition  in  1838,  after 
Cham[)ollion'3  Grammar  and  Dictionary  had  opened  the 
I  actual  Egyptian  inscriptions  to  scholars.  Dr  Prichard's 
'nt  important  book  was  a  revision  and  condensation  of  his 

■  arches  into  a  Natural  History  of  Man  (London,  1843), 
iiich  has  gone  through  several  editions,  and  remains  a 

ludard  work  of  the  anthropologist's  library.     Towards 
'lie  end  of  his  life,  in  recognition  of  his  services,  he  was 
Miade  a  commissioner  of  lunacy,  and  in  consequence  re- 
I'lved  from  Bristol  to  London,  where  he  died  in  1848. 

A  mimoir  by  his  friend  Dr  Hodgkin  will  bo  found  in  the  Journal 

Ihc   ElknologUal  Society,  of  whicli   ho  was   one   of  tlio   early 

^idcnt3. 

I'UIDE,  TnoM.\.s  (d.  1658),  Parliamentary  officer,  was 
I  humble  origin,  and  is  stated  to  have  been  brought  up 
I'y  the  parish  of  St  Bride's,  London.  Subsequently  ho 
was  a  drayman  and  a  bre\ver.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
Civil  War  he  served  as  ensign  under  the  carl  of  Essex, 
and  gradually  obtained  promotion  to  the  rank  of  colonel. 
He  distinguished  himself  at  the  battle  of  Preston,  17th 
August  1048,  and  in  Cromwell's  Scottish  campaign  he 
licld  command  of  a  brigade.  Ho  was  noted  for  his  resolute 
character  and  extreme  anti-Royalist  sentiments.  After  the 
Commons  had  voted  that  the  king's  concessions  at  Newport 
were  a  basis  for  a  settlement,  he  was  chosen  by  thic  army 


chiefs  to  effect  their  purpose  of  "  purging  "  the  Commons. 
Taking  his  stand  at  the  entrance  of  the  House  of  Commons 
with  a  ^^Titten  list  in  his  hand,  he  caused  the  arrest  of  the 
Royalist  members  who  were  pointed  out  to  him,  and 
placed  them  in  custody.  After  about  a  hundred  members 
had  been  dealt  with  by  this  ordinance,  subsequently  known 
as  "Pride's  Purge,"  the  mutilated  House  of  Commons 
proceeded  to  bring  the  king  to  trial.  Pride  was  one  of 
the  judges  of  the  king  and  signed  his  death-warrant. 
Under  Cromwell  he  received  the  honour  of  knighthood, 
and  was  also  chosen  a  member  of  the  new  House  of  Lords. 
He  died  at  Nonsuch  on  23d  October  1658,  and  after  the 
Restoration  his  body  was  dug  up  and  suspended  on  the 
gallows  at  Tyburn  along  with  that  of  Cromwell. 

Noble,  Liixs  of  the  Regicides ;  Bate,  Lives  of  the  Prime  Retort 
and  Principal  Contrivers  of  the  Murder  of  Charles  I.  ;  Carlylc, 
CromKcll. 

PRIDEAUX,  Humphrey  (1648-1724),  dean  of  Nor- 
wich, was  the  third  son  of  Edward  Prideaux  of  Place  in 
Padstow,  Cornwall,  by  his  wife  Bridget,  daughter  of  John 
Moyle  of  Bake  in  the  same  county.  Both  families  were  of 
good  repute  in  the  west  of  England,  and  that  of  Prideaux 
was  especially  influential,  as  is  shown  by  the  elaborate 
pedigrees  in  Sir  John  Maclean's  Deanery  of  Trigg  Minor 
(ii.  194-242).  He  was  born  at  Place  on  3d  May  1648, 
and  received  the  rudiments  of  his  education  at  the  gram- 
mar-schools of  Liskeard  and  Bodmin.  In  16G5  he  was 
placed  at  Westminster  under  Dr  J3usby,  and  after  staying 
there  for  three  years  was  admitted  a  student  at  Christ 
Church,  Oxford,  taking  his  degrees  in  the  following  order, 
B.A.  in  1672,  M.A.  1675,  B.D.  1682,  and  D.D.  1686. 
It  was  the  rule  of  that  house  that  its  best  scholars  should, 
after  they  had  taken  their  first  degree,  be  employed  in 
editing  some  classical  writer,  and  Prideaux  was  accordingly 
deputed  to  superintend  a  new  edition  of  Lucius  Florus 
and  to  prepare  for  the  press,  from  a  Greek  MS.  in  the 
Bodleian,  a  work  by  Johannes  Malalas.  The  first  of  these 
works  is  now  exceedingly  scarce,  if  indeed  a  copy  be  in 
existence,  and  the  second  was,  on  his  advice,  left  in 
manuscript.  The  famous  Arundel  marbles  had  just  been 
given  to  the  university,  and  Prideaux  was  instructed  to 
undertake  the  task  of  describing  the  gift,  bis  transcript 
of  the  inscriptions,  with  a  commentary  and  additions  from 
the  Selden  marbles,  appearing  in  1676.  In  1679  he  was 
appointed  to  the  rectory  of  St  Clement's,  Oxford,  and  in 
the  same  year  became  Hebrew  lecturer  at  Christ  Church, 
whereupon  he  published  two  Hebrew  tracts  of  Maimonides 
with  a  Latin  translation  and  annotations.  Prideaux  con- 
tinued tutor  at  Christ  Church  until  February  1686,  hold- 
ing for  the  last  three  years  the  rectory  of  Bladon  with 
Woodstock;  but  in  1686  he  exchanged  for  the  benefice 
of  Saham  in  Norfolk,  and  took  up  his  residence  in  that 
county,  with  which  he  had  for  some  time  been  connected 
through  his  appointment  in  August  1681  to  a  prcbendal 
stall  in  Norwich  cathedral.  The  sympathies  of  ftideaux 
inclined  to  Low  Churchism  in  religion  and  to  W'higgism  in 
politics,  and  during  the  years  which  immediately  preceded 
and  succeeded  the  Revolution  of  1C88  he  took  an  active 
part  in  the  controversies  of  the  day,  publi.shing  in  quick 
succession  the  following  pamphlets — The  Validity  of  the 
Orders  of  the  Church  of  England  (1 688),  Letter  to  a  Friend 
on  the  Present  Convocation  (1690),  The  Case  of\!landestine 
Marriages  stated  (1691).  Prideaux  was  promoted  to  the 
archdeacon rjPof  Suffolk  at  tho  close  of  1688  and  to  tho 
deanery  of  Norwich  in  Juno  1702,  and  it  was  the  wish  of 
some  of  tho  members  of  tho  cpiscojial  bench  that  he  should 
have  been  appointed  to  the  bishopric  of  Norwich,  but 
their  desires  were  not  gratified.  In  1694  ho  was  obliged, 
through  ill-health,  to  resign  the  rectory  of  Saham,  and 
after  having  held  the  vicarage  of  Trowse  for  fourteen  years 


7U 


P  R  I  — P  R  I 


(16?6-1710)  he  found  himself  incapacitated,  by  repeated 
attacks  of  stone,  from  further  parochial  duty.  He  died 
at  Norwich  on  1st  November  1724,  and  was  buried  in  the 
cathedral  on  4th  November.  His  wife,  Bridget,  only 
daughter  and  sole  heir  of  Anthony  Bokenham  of  Hehning- 
Iiam,  Suffolk,  died' at  Norwich  in  November  1700;  they 
were  married  on  16th  February  1686. 

Many  of  the  dean's  writings  were  of  great  value,  and  their  popu- 
larity continued  unimpaired  down  to  the  present  century.  His 
fji/e  of  Mahomet,  originally  published  in  1697,  had  passed  through 
eight  editions  by  1723,  and  his  Directions  to  Churchwardens,  first 
issued  in  1701,  reached  a  twelfth  edition  in  1871.  But  the  favour 
■with  which  these  volumes  were  received,  great  as  it  was,  contrasts 
but  badly  with  the  extraordinary  success  of  his  account  of  The  Old 
and  New  Testament  connected  in  the  History  of  the  Jews,  a  work  of 
great  research  and  learning.  This  has  been  many  times  reissued 
since  the  appearance  of  the  first  part  in  1716,  and  has  been  trans- 
lated into  the  French,  German,  and  Italian  languages.  Le  Clerc 
subjected  it  to  a  critical  examination.  A  series  of  remarks  upon  it 
as  contained  in  AValter  Moyle's  works,  and  continuations  were  com- 
piled by  Samuel  Shuckford  and  Michael  Russell.  Prideaux  published 
several  small  tracts,  and  many  volumes  of  manuscript  collections 
are  in  the  possession  of  his  descendant  at  Place.  These,'  with  par- 
ticulars of  the  dean's  letters  in  print  and  in  manuscript  and  with 
bibliographical  details  of  bis  numerous  publications,  are  described 
in  the  Bibliotheca  Corniibicnsis,  ii.  527-533  and  iii.  1319.  A  volume' 
of  his  letters  to  John  Ellis,  some  time  under-secretary  of  state,  was 
edited  by  Mr  E.  M.  Thompson  for  the  Camden  Society  in  1876,  and 
contained  a  vivid  picture  of  Oxford  life  after  the  Restoration  ;  but 
it  will  always  be  regretted  that  some  passages  in  his  correspond- 
ence should  betray  feelings  unworthy  of  the  writer.  An  anonymous 
life  of  Dean  Prideaux  appeared  in  1748,  but  it  was  mainly  compiled 
from  a  larger  memoir  by  his  son. 

PRIESSNITZ,  ViNCENZ.  See  Hydeopatht,  vol.  xii. 
p.  542  sq. 

PRIEST  (Ger.  Priester,  Fr.  pretre)  is  a  contracted  form 
of  "presb5^er"  (n-peo-^uTcpos,  "elder";  see  Peesbytee),  a 
name  of  oflSce  in  the  early  Christian  church,  already  men- 
tioned in  the  New  Testament.  But  in  the  English  Bible 
the  presbyters  of  the  New  Testament  are  called  "  elders," 
sot  "priests";  the  latter  name  is  reserved  for  ministers  of 
pre-Christian  religions,  the  Semitic  D''3n3  {kohanlm,'  sing. 
jcohen)  and  D'''}03  (kemarlm),  or  the  Greek  lepcts.  The 
reason  of  this  will  appear  tnore  clearly  in  the  sequel ;  it  is 
enough  to  observe  at  present  that,  before  our  English  word 
was  formed,  the  original  idea  of  a  presbyter  had  been  over- 
laid with  others  derived  from  pre-Christian  priesthoods, 
80  that  it  is  from  these  and  not  from  the  etymological 
force  of  the  word  that  we  must  start  in  considering 
Mstorically  what  a  priest  is.  /  The  theologians  of  the 
Greek  and  Latin  Churches  expressly  found  the  conception 
of  a  Christian  priesthood  on  the  hierarchy  of  the  Jewish 
temple,  while  the  names  by  which  the  sacerdotal  character 
is  expressed — lepev?,  sacerdos — originally  designated  the 
xainisters  of  sacred  things  in  Greek  and  Roman  heathen- 
ism, and  then  came  to  be  used  as  translations  into  Greek 
and  Latin  of  the  Hebrew  kohen.  Kohen,  Upcvi,  sacerdos, 
are  in  fact  fair  translations  of  one  another;  they  all 
denote  a  minister  whose  stated  business  was  to  perform, 
on  behalf  of  the  community,  certain',  public  ritual  acts, 
particularly  sacrifices,  directed  godwart^s.  Such  ministers 
<OT  priests  existed  in  all  the  great  religions  of  ancient 
aavilization,  and  indeed  a  priesthood  in  the  sense  now 
defined  is  gejjeraUy  found,  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  among 
races  which  have  a  tribal  or  national  religion  of  definite 
sJjaracter,  and  not  merely  an  unorganized  mass  .of  super- 
stitious ideas,  fears,  and  hopes  issuing  in  pra'ttices  of 
sorcery.  The  term  "  priest "  is  sometimes  taken  to  include 
■"sorcerer,"  just  as  religion  is  often  taken  to  include  the 
oeUef  in  mysterious  or  superhuman  powers  which  can  be 
constrained  by  spells,  but  this  is  an  abuse  of  language. 
^Religion  begins  when  the  relation  of  the  divine  powers 
to  man  is  conceived— on  the  analogy  of  the  relations  of 
formed  human-  society — as  having  a  certain  stable  personal 


character  on  which  the  worshippers  can  calculate  anr";  act. 
The  gods  of  the  ancient  religions  might  do  arbitrary  acts, 
but  their  conduct  towards  man  was  not  habitually  arbi- 
trary, la  so  far  as  they  could  be  reckoned  on,  they  had  a 
religion  ;  in  so  far  as  they  were  still  arbitrary,  w  them- 
selves subject  to  the  influence  of  unknown  forces,  room  was 
left  for  the  persistence  of  sorcery  and  similar  superstitions, 
which  history  proves  to  have  always  renewed  their  strength 
in  times  when  religious  faith  failed,  when  men  ceased  to 
be  fully  persuaded  that  the  favour  and  help  of  the  gods 
were  Aire  if  certain  known  conditions  were  fulfilled.  In 
the  best  times  of  the  antique  religions  no  such  doubts 
were  felt ;  the  real  interest  of  the  gods  in  their  worshippers 
was  certain,  for  all  good  things  came  from  their  hands, 
and  the  actions  on  the  part  of  individuals  or  of  the  stat«  by 
which  their  favour  was  maintained,  lost,  or  regained  were 
matter  of  undisputed  tradition.  The  main  points  of  this 
tradition  were  known  to  every  one  concerned,  and  difficult 
cases  were  resolved  by  experts — such  as  the  Greek  i^ijyrjrai 
— or  referred,  through  some  form  of  oracle,  to  the  gods 
themselves.  The  relations  of  the  gods  to  men,  as  thus 
traditionally  defined,  were  not  so  much  to  individuals  as 
to  families,  tribes,  or  states,  and  it  was  the  business  of  the 
community  to  see  that  they  were  maintained  on  a  sound 
footing.  This  was  partly  done  by  watching  over  the 
conduct  of  individuals,  for  every  one  had  certain  religious 
duties  ;  and  conversely,  certain  acts  of  a  private  as  well  as 
of  a  public  character  were  hateful  to  the  gods,  and,  unless 
expiated,  might  bring  calamity«to  the  whole  community. 
But  it  was  also  necessary  to  honour  the  gods  by  direct  acts 
of  homage,  by  images  and  temples,  by  feasts  and  sacrifices. 
To  attend  to  these  things  was  an  essential  part  of  the 
right  government  of  the  state,  the  right  ordering  of  tribal 
and  family  life,  and  they  could  not  be  wholly  left  to  the 
spontaneity  of  individuals,  but  necessarily  fell  to  be  per- 
formed on  behalf  of  the  community  by  its  natural  head  or 
by  specially  appointed  officials^  In  either  case  the  service 
done  to  the  gods  on  behalf  of  many  may  properly  be  called 
"priestly  service,"  though  in  the  former  case  the  priesthood, 
being  only  one  of  the  many  functions  of  domestic  or  civil 
authority,  was  not  necessarily  recognized  by  a  special  name. 
Both  kinds  of  priesthood  are  found  in  the  old  civiUzatioa 
of  southern  Europe:  thus  Homer  knows  special  priests 
who  preside  over  ritual  acts  in  the  temples  to  which  they 
are  attached ;  but  his  kings  also  do  sacrifice  on  behalf  of 
their  people.  The  king,  in  fact,  both  in  Greece  and  in 
Rome,  was  the  acting  head  of  the  state  religion,  and  when 
the  regal  power  came  to  an  end  his  sacred  functions  were 
not  transferred  to  the  ordinary  priests,  but  either  they 
were  distributed  among  high  officers  of  state,  as  archons 
and  prytanes,  or  the  title  of  "  king  "  was  still  preserved  as 
that  of  a  religious  functionary,  as  in  the  case  of  the  r'x 
sacrorum  at  Rome  and  the  archon  hasileus  at  Athens.  In 
the  domestic  circle  the  union  of  priesthood  and  natural 
headship  was  never  disturbed ;  the  Roman  paterfamilias 
sacrificed  for  the  whole  family.  On  the  other  hand,  gejUe* 
and  phratrix,  which  had  no  natural  head,  had  special 
priests  chosen  from  their  members ;  for  every  circle  of 
ancient  society,  from  the  family  up  to  the  state,  was  a 
religious  as  well  as  a  civil  unity,  and  had  its  own  gods 
and  sacred  rites.  The  lines  of  religious  and  civil  so- 
ciety were  identical,  and  so  long  as  they  remained  sq  no 
antagonism  could  arise  between  •  the  spiritual  and  the 
temporal  power.  In  point  of  fact,  in  Greece  and  Rome 
the  priest  never  attained  to  any  considerable  independent 
importance ;  we  cannot  speak  of  priestly  power  and  hardly 
even  of  a  distinct  priestly  class.  In  Greece  the  priest^ 
so  far  as  he  is  an  independent  functionary  and  not  one  of 
the  magistrates,  is  simply  the  elected  or  hereditary  minister 
of  a  temple  charged  with  "  those  things  which  are  ordained 


PRIEST 


725 


tc  be  done  towards  the  gods  "  (see  Aristotle,  Pol.,  vi.  8), 
>nd  remunerated  from  the  revenues  of  the  temple,  or  by 
the  gilts  of  worshippers  and  sacrificial  dues.  The  position 
■was  often  lucrative  and  always  honourable,  and  the  priests 
.were  under  the  special  protection  of  the  gods  they  served. 
But  their  purely  ritual  functions  gave  them  no  means  of 
establishing  a  considerable  influence  on  the  minds  of  men, 
j»nd  the  technical  knowledge  which  they  possessed  as  to 
the  way  in  which  the  gods  could  be  acceptably  approached 
was  neither  so  intricate  nor  so  mysterious  as  to  give  the 
class  a  special  importance.  The  funds  of  the  temples 
were  not  in  their  control,  but  were  treated  as  public 
moneys.  Above  all,  where,  as  at  Athens,  the  decision  of 
questions  of  sacred  law  fell  not  to  the  priests  but  to  the 
college  of  (^-qyrjTai,  one  great  source  of  priestly  power  was 
wholly  lacking.  There  remains,  indeed,  <?ne  other  sacred 
function  of  great  importance  in  the  ancient  world  in  which 
the  Greek  priests  had  a  share.  As  man  approached  the 
gods  in  sacrifice  and  prayers,  so  too  the  gods  declared 
themselves  to  men  by  divers  signs  and  tokens,  which  it 
was  possible  to  read  by  the  art  of  Divikation  (q.v.).  In 
many  nations  divination  amd  priesthood  have  always  gone 
kand  in  hand ;  at  Rome,  for  example,  the  augurs  and  the 
XVviri  sacrorum,  who  interpreted  the  Sibylline  books,  were 
priestly  colleges.  In  Greece,  on  the  other  hand,  divina- 
tion was  not  generally  a  priestly  function,  but  it  did  belong 
to  the  priests  of  the  Oracles  (see  Oracle).  The  great 
oracles,  however,  were  of  Panhellenic  celebrity  and  did 
not  serve  each  a  particular  state,  and  so  in  this  direction 
ftlso  the  risk  of  an  independent  priestly  power  within  the 
state  was  avoided.  ^ 

In  Rome,  again,  where  the  functions  of  the  priesthood 
were  politically  much  more  weighty,  where  the  techni- 
calities of  religion  were  more  complicated,  where  priests 
interpreted  the  will  of  the  gods,  and  where  the  pontiffs  had 
a  most  important  jurisdiction  in  sacred  things,  the  state 
was  much  too  strong  to  suffer  these  powers  to  escape  from 
its  own  immediate  control :  the  old  monarchy  of  the  king 
in  sacred  things  descended  to  the  inheritors  of  his  temporal 
power ;  the  highest  civil  and  religious  functions  met  in  the 
same  persons  (comp.  Cic,  De  Dom.,  i.  1) ;  and  every  priest 
was  subject  to  the  state  exactly  as  the  magistrates  were, 
referring  all  weighty  matters  to  state  decision  and  then 
executing  what  the  one  supremo  power  decreed.  And  it 
is  instructive  to  observe  that  when  the  plebeiitns  extorted 
their  full  share  of  political  power  they  also  demanded  and 
obtained  admission  to  every  priestly  college  of  political 
importance,  to  those,  namely,  of  the  pontiffs,  the  augurs, 
and  the  X  Vviri  sacrorum.  The  Romans,  it  need  hardly 
ba  said,  did  not  have  hereditary  priests." 

The  same  close  connexion  between  state  and  religion 
meets  us,  under  the  forms  of  Oriental  despotism,  in  the 
great  civilizations  of  Egypt  and  Babylonia.  Here  all  civil 
and  religious  power  has  its  source  in  the  king,  and  he  is 
therefore  himself  the  centre  and  head  of  the  priesthood. 
Nowhere  is  religion  more  thoroughly  a  part  of  statecraft 
than  in  ancient  Egypt ;  the  official  religion  of  the  united 
monarchy  is  plainly  an  artificial  structure  built  up  by 
priestly  fable  and  speculation  out  of  the  old  religions  of 
the  several  nomes  and  dedicated  to  the  service  of  the 
monarchy.  The  priesthood  accordingly  has  large  functions, 
including,  besides  the  service  of  the  temples,  astrology  and 
divination,  and  the  development  and  preservation  of  a  sort 
of  official  theology  and  ritual  theory,  by  which  the  conflict- 


'  For  the  Greek  priests,  see,  besides  Schomann  and  other  works  on 
Greek  sntiqnities,  Novrton,  Essayi  on  Art  and  Archmology,  p.  136 
aq.  (from  epigrnphic  material). 

'  On  the  Roman  priests,  see  in  general  Marqnardt,  Rlimiiche  S^ats- 
venoallunr;,  vol.  iii.,  and  for  the  pontiffs  in  particular  PoNTIFKX, 
tupra,  p.  156. 


ing  elements  of  local  religion  and  mythology  were  recon- 
ciled. It  has  a  strict  bureaucratic  organization,  like  any 
other  branch  of  the  administration  ;  the  higher  priests  are 
great  officers  of  state,  with  civil  and  even  military  power  ; 
under  Smendes  (XXJst  Dynasty)  the  priests  of  Amon  at 
Thebes  actually  ascended  the  throne.  An  absolute  mon- 
archy, in  which  the  king  is  revered  as  himself  a  divin* 
person  and  in  which  the  ministers  of  religion  are  the  organs 
of  a  comprehensive  and  mysterious  statecraft,  obviously 
offers  to  sacerdotalism  a  far  greater  career  than  was  pos- 
sible among  the  free  peoples  of  Greece  and  Rome ;  and 
the  priests  held  in  their  hands  the  whole  wisdom  of  the 
Egyptians,  and  so  kept  all  parts  of  culture  in  such  strict 
subservience,  aUke  to  the  gods  and  to  the  monarchy,  as  to 
make  the  empire  of  the  NUe  the  ideal  type  of  absolutism 
based  on  divine  right.  In  this  respect,  however,  th«f 
Babylonian  system,  of  which  we  have  less  ample  details^ 
probably  fell  little  short  of  the  Egyptian.  Here  also  we 
find,  as  in  Egypt,  a  state  religion  built  on  a  priestly  fusion 
of  older  cults,  and  therefore  also  a  mythological  theology 
which  is  not  folk-lore  but  priest-lore.  The  older  elements 
of  religion  are  worked  into  a  theoretic  system  of  astral 
powers,  and  this  in  turn  gives  rise  to  a  priestly  study  of 
astrology  containing  elements  of  real  science.  This  com- 
plicated and  many-sided  lore  gave  to  the  priesthoods  of 
Chaldaea  and  the  Nile  the  character  of  a  learned  class, 
which  is  quite  wanting  in  Greece  and  Rome,  and  it  also 
produced  a  sacred  and  sacerdotal  literature  quite  different 
in  range  and  importance  from  such  Western  analogues  as 
the  Sibylline  books  or  the  libri  augurales. 

Against  the  genuine  inteUectual  achievements  of  the 
Chaldasan  and  Egyptian  priests  must  be  set  the  incorpora- 
tion of  magic  and  sorcery  in  the  circle  of  priestly  sciences. 
The  ordinary  functions  of  religion  are  directed  to  conciliate 
or  persuade  the  gods,  but  magic  pretends  to  constrain  the 
supernatural  powers,  and  belongs,  as  we  have  seen;  to  super- 
stition rather  than  to  religion.  But  in  Egypt  and  Baby- 
lonia the  state  religion  was  an  artificial  mosaic  of  old 
beliefs,  in  which  the  crassest  superstitions  had  their  place,, 
and  thus  magical  arts  received  a  state  recognition  and 
were  part  of  the  business  of  the  state  priests  in  a  way- 
unknown  in  the  West.  Occult  arts,  in  fact,  are  part  of 
the  machinery  of  government.  Now  when  we  go  still 
farther  cast  to  the  Aryans  of  India  we  again  find  the  idea 
prominent  that  certain  formulas  have  the  power  of  con- 
straining the  gods,  but  in  a  form  somewhat  different  from 
that  of  mere  sorcery,  and  less  primitive.  AH  ancient 
peoples  sought  victory  from  the  gods,  and  they  sought  it 
by  sacrifice  and  prayer ;  but  nowhere  is  the  power  of 
sacrifice  more  strongly  felt  than  among  the  ancient  Aryans; 
it  was  Agni,  the  sacrificial  flame,  as  ancient  legend  has  it, 
tliat  led  the  conquerors  of  India  from  victory  to  victory. 
But  there  were  also  bloody  struggles  among  the  Aryans 
themselves,  between  men  who  invoked  the  same  deity, 
and  here  the  issue  was  not  whether  Indra  was  stronger 
than  the  gods  of  the  non-Aryans,  but  which  of  the  rival 
sacrifices  he  would  accept.  Now  the  priests  accompanied 
sacrifice  with  songs  of  invocation,  and  so  it  became  essential 
to  have  the  most  powerful  song,  which  the  god  could  not 
resist.  The  knowledge  of  these  songs  and  of  all  thai 
accompanied  their  use  was  handed  down  in  priestly  families, 
whoso  aid  became  indispensable  to  every  sovereign,  and  at 
last  out  of  these  families  there  grew  up  the  great  and 
privileged  caste  of  lirahmans.  For  further  details  as  tc 
the  development  of  the  priestly  caste  and  wisdom  in  India 
the  reader  must  refer  to  Brmimanism  ;  hero  it  is  enough  tc 
observe  that  among  a  religious  people  a  priesthood  which 
forms  a  close  and  still  more  an  hereditary  corporation, 
and  the  assistance  of  which  is  indispensable  in  all  religiou: 
acts,  mvist  rise  to  practical  supremacy  in  society  except 


26 


PRIEST 


bnder  the  strongest  form  of  despotism,  where  the  sovereign 
is  liead  of  the  church  as  well  as  of  the  stati. 

Among  the  Zoroastrian  Iranians,  as  among  the  Indian 
Aryans,  the  aid  of  a  priest  to  recite  the  sacrificial  liturgy 
Was  necessary  at  every  offering  (Herod.,  i.  132),  and  the 
Iranian  priests  (athravans,  later  Magi)  claimed,  like  the 
Brahmans,  to  be  the  highest  order  of  society  ;  but  a  variety 
of  conditions  were  lacking  to  give  them  the  full  place  of 
their  Indian  brethren.  Zoroastrianism  is  not  a  nature 
religion,  but  the  result  of  a  reform  which  never,  under  the 
old  empire,  thoroughly  penetrated  the  masses ;  and  the 
priesthood,  as  it  was  not  based  on  family  tradition,  did 
not  form  a  strict  hereditary  caste.  Under  the  SisAnians, 
however,  2k)roastrianism  was  a  state  religion  in  the  strictest 
sense,  and  the  priests  attained  very  great  power,  their 
assistance  being  absolutely  necessary  not  only  in  the  public 
ritual  of  the  fire-temple  but  for  the  constant  guidance  of 
every  individual  in  the  minute  details  of  ceremonial 
observance,  which  make  up  the  chief  body  of  the  religious 
system  of  the  sacred  books,  and  every  breach  of  which 
involved  penance.  It  is  thus  easily  understood  that  the 
clergy  formed  a  compact  hierarchy  not  inferior  in  influence 
to  the  clergy  of  the  Christian  Middle  Ages,  had  great 
power  in  the  state,  and  were  often  irksome  even  to  the 
great  king.  But  the  best  established  hierarchy  is  not  so 
powerful  as  a  caste,  and  the  monarchs  had  one  strong  hold 
on  the  clergy  by  retaining  the  patronage  of  great  ecclesi- 
astical places,  and  another  in  the  fact  that  the  Semitic 
provinces  on  the  Tigris,  where  the  capital  lay,  were  mainly 
inhabited  by  men  of  other  faith.' 

In  this  rapid  glance  at  some  of  the  chief  priesthoods  of 
antiquity  we  have  hitherto  passed  over  the  pure  Semites, 
whose  priesthoods  call  for  closer  examination  because  of 
the  profound  influence  which  one  of  them — that  of  the 
Jews — has  exercised  on  Christianity,  and  so  on  the  whole 
history  of  the  modern  world.  But  before  we  proceed  to 
this  it  may  be  well  to  note  one  or  two  things  that  come 
out  by  comparison  of  the  systems  already  before  us. 
Priestly  acts — that  is,  acts  done  by  one  and  accepted  by 
the  gods  on  behalf  of  many — are  common  to  all  antique 
religions,  and  cannot  be  lacking  where  the  primary  subject 
of  religion  is  not  the  individual  but  the  natural  community. 
But  the  origin  of  a  separate  priestly  class,  distinct  from 
the  natural  heads  of  the  community,  cannot  be  explained 
by  any  such  broad  general  principle ;  in  some  cases,  as 
in  Greece,  it  is  little  piore  than  a  matter  of  convenience 
that  part  of  the  religious  duties  of  the  state  should  be  con- 
fided to  special  ministers  charged  with  the  care  of  particu- 
lar temples,  while  in  others  the  intervention  of  a  special 
priesthood  is  indispensable  to  the  validity  of  every  religious 
act,  so  that  the  priest  ultimately  becomes  a  mediator  and 
the  vehicle  of  all  divine  grace.  This  position,  we  see,  can 
be  reached  by  various  paths  :  the  priest  may  become  in- 
dispensable through  the  growth  of  ritual  observances  and 
precautions  too  .complicated  for  a  layman  to  master,  or  he 
may  lay  claim  to  special  nearness  to  the  gods  on  the 
ground,  it  may  be,  of  his  race,  or  it  may  be  of  habitual 
practices  of  purity  and  asceticism  which  cannot  be  com- 
bined with  the  duties  of  ordinary  life,  as,  for  example, 
celibacy  was  required  of  priestesses  of  Vesta  at  Kome. 
But  the  highest  developments  of  priestly  influence  are 
hardly  separable  from  something  of  magical  superstition ; 
the  opiis  operatum  of  the  priest  has  the  power  of  a  sorcerer's 
spell.  The  strength  of  the  priesthood  in  Chaldaea  and  in 
Egypt  stands  plainly  in  the  closest  connexion  with  the 
survival  of  a  magical  element  in  the  state  religion,  and 
Rome,  in  like  manner,  is  more  priestly  than  Greece  because 
it  is  more  superstitious.  In  most  cases,  however,  where 
an  ancient  civilization  shows  us  a' strong  |»riestly  system 
•  Compare  especially  Noldeke's  Tabari,  p.  450  sq. 


we  are  unable  to  make  out  in  any  detail  the  steps  by 
which  that  system  was  elaborated  ;  the  clearest  case  per- 
haps is  the  priesthood  of  the  Jews,  which  is  not  less 
interesting  from  its  origin  and  growth  than  from  the  influ- 
ence  exerted  by  the  system  long  after  the  priests  were 
dispersed  and  their  sanctuary  laid  in  ruins. 

Among  the  nomadic  Semites,  to  whom  the  Hebrews  be- 
longed before  they  settled  in  Canaan,  there  has  never  been 
any  developed  priesthood.  The  acts  of  religion  partake  of 
the  general  simplicity  of  desert  life  ;  apart  from  the  private 
worship  of  household  gods  and  the  oblations  and  salutations 
offered  at  the  graves  of  departed  kinsmen,  the  ritual 
observances  of  the  ancient  Arabs  were  visits  to  the  tribal 
sanctuary  to  salute  the  god  with  a  gift  of  milk  first-fruits 
or  the  like,  the  sacrifice  of  firstlings  and  vows  (see  Nazas- 
iTE  and  Passover),  and  an  occasional  pilgrimage  to  dis- 
charge a  vow  at  the  annual  feast  and  fair  of  one  of  the 
more  distant  holy  places  (see  Mecca).  These  acts  required 
no  priestly  aid  ;  each  man  slew  his  own  victim  and  divided 
the  sacrifice  in  his  own  circle ;  the  share  of  the  god  was 
the  blood  which  was  smeared  upon  or  poured  out  beside 
a  stone  {nosh,  ghahghah)  set  up  as  an  altar  or  perhaps  as  a 
symbol  of  the  deity.  It  does  not  appear  that  any  portion 
of  the  sacrifice  was  burned  on  the  altar,  or  that  any  part 
of  the  victim  was  the  due  of  the  sanctuary.  We  find 
therefore  no  trace  of  a  sacrificial  priesthood,  but  each 
temple  had  one  or  more  doorkeepers  (sddin,  hdjih),  whose 
office  was  usually  hereditary  in  a  certain  family  and  who 
had  the  charge  of  the  temple  and  its  treasures.  The 
sacrifices  and  ofi'erings  were  acknowledgments  of  divine 
bounty  and  means  used  to  insure  its  continuance ;  the 
Arab  was  the  "  slave  "  of  his  god  and  paid  him  tribute,  as 
slaves  used  to  do  to  their  masters,  or  subjects  to  their 
lords ;  and  the  free  Bedouin,  trained  in  the  solitude  of  the 
desert  to  habits  of  absolute  self-reliance,  knew  no  master 
except  his  god,  and  acknowledged  no  other  will  before 
which  his  own  should  bend.  Hence  the  other  side  of  Arab 
religion  was  to  look  for  divine  direction  in  every  grave  or 
difiicult  concern  of  life ;  what  could  not  be  settled  in  the 
free  council  of  the  tribesmen,  or  by  the  unenforced  award 
of  an  umpire,  was  referred  to  the  command  of  the  god, 
and  the  oracle  was  the  only  authority  by  which  dissen- 
sions could  be  healed,  lawsuits  determined,  and  judgment 
authoritatively  spoken.  The  voice  of  the  god  might  be 
uttered  in, omens  which  the  skilled  could  read,  or  con- 
veyed in  the  inspired  rhymes  of  soothsayers,  but  frequently 
it  was  sought  in  the  oracle  of  the  sanctuary,  where  the 
sacred  lot  was  administered  for  a  fee  by  the  sddin.  The 
sanctuary  thus  became  a  seat  of  judgment,  and  here  too 
compacts  were  sealed  by  oaths  and  sacrificial  ceremonies. 
These  institutions,  though  known  to  us  only  from  sources 
belonging  to  an  age  when  the  old  faith  was  falling  to 
pieces,  are  certainly  very  ancient.  Their  whole  stamp  is 
primitive,  and  they  correspond  in  the  closest  way  with 
what  we  know  of  the  earliest  religion  of  the  Israelites, 
the  only  other  Semitic  people  whose  history  can  be 
traced  back  to  a  time  when  the}'  had  not  fully  emerged 
from  nomad  life.  And,  in  fact,  the  fundamental  type  of 
the  Arabic  sanctuary  can  be  traced  through  all  the  Semitic 
lands,  and  so  appears  to  be  older  than  the  Semitic  disper- 
sion ;  even  the  technical  terms  are  mainly  the  same,  so 
that  we  may  justly  assume  that  the  more  developed  ritual 
and  priesthoods  of  the  settled  Semites  sprang  from  a  state 
of  things  not  very  remote  from  what  we  find  among  the 
heathen  Arabs.  Now  among  the  Arabs,  as  we  have  seen, 
ritual  service  is  the  afiair  of  the  individual,  or  of  a  mass 
of  individuals  gathered  in  a  great  feast,  but  still  .doing 
worship  each  for  himself  and  his  own  private  circle ;  the 
only  public  aspect  of  religion  is  found  in  connexion  with 
divination  and  the  oracle  to  which  the  aflairs  of  the  com- 


Jb'   Jrl  i   J5  tS   T 


'/2l 


tnunity  are  submitted.  '  In  Greece  and  Rome  the  public 
sacrifices  were  tlie  chief  function  of  religion,  and  in  them 
the  priesthood  represented  the  ancient  kings. ' :  But  in  the 
desert  there  is  no  king  and  no  sovereignty  save  that  of  the 
divine  oracle,  and  therefore  it  is  from  the  soothsayers  or 
nlluisters  of  the  oracle  that  a  public  ministry  of  religion 
can  most  naturally  spring.  With  the  beginning  of  a  settled 
state  the  sanctuaries  must  rise  in  importance  and  all  the 
functions  of  revelation  will  gather  round  them.  A  sacri- 
ficial priesthood  will  arise  as  the  worship  becomes  more 
complex  (especially  as  sacrifice  in  antiquity -is  a  common 
preliminary  to  the  consultation  of  an  oracle),  but  the 
public  ritual  will  still  remain  closely  associated  with  oracle 
or  divination,  and  the  priest  will  stih  be,  above  all  things, 
a  revealer.  That  this  was  what  actually  happened  may  be 
inferred  from  the  fact  that  the  Canaanite  and  Phoenician 
name  for  a  priest  (kohen)  is  identical  with  the  Arabic 
iahin,  a  "soothsayer."  Soothsaying  was  no  modern  im- 
portation in  Arabia;  its  characteristic  form — a  monotonous 
croon  of  short  rhjiuing  clauses — is  the  same  as  was  prac- 
tised by  the  Hebrew  "  wizards  who  peeped  and  niuttered  " 
in  the  days  of  Isaiah,  and  that  this  form  was  native  in 
Arabia  is  clear  from  its  having  a  technical  name  {saf), 
which  in  Hebrew  survives  only  in  derivative  words  with 
modified  sense.'-  The  kdhin,  therefore,  is  not  a  degraded 
priest  but  such  a  soothsayer  as  is  found  in  most  primitive 
societies,  and  the  Canaanite  priests  grew  out  of  these  early 
revealers.  In  point  of  fact  some  form  of  revelation  or 
oracle  appears  to  have  existed  in  every  great  shrine  of 
Canaan  and  Syria,^  and  the  importance  of  this  element  in 
the  cultus  may  be  measured  from  the  fact  that  at  Hierapolis 
it  was  the  charge  of  the  chief  priest,  just  as  in  the  Leviti- 
cal  legislation.  But  the  use  of  "kahin"  for  "priest"  in  the 
Canaanite  area  points  to  more  than  this :  it  is  connected 
with  the  orgiastic  character  of  Canaanite  religion.  The 
soothsayer  differs  from  the  priest  of  an  oracle  by  giving 
his  revelation  under  excitement  and  often  in  a  frenzy 
allied  to  madness.  In  natural  soothsaying  this  frenzy  is 
the  necessary  physical  accompaniment  of  an  afflatus  which, 
though  it  seems  supernatural  to  a  rude  people,  is  really 
akin  to  poetic  inspiration.  But  it  is  soon  learned  that  a 
similar  physical  state  can  be  produced  artificially,  and  at 
the  Canaanite  sanctuaries  this  was  done  on  a  large  scale. 
We  see  from  1  Kings  xviii.,  2  Kings  x.,  that  the  great 
Baal  temples  had  two  classes  of  ministers,  kOhdn'im  and 
nSillm,  "  priests "  and  "  prophets,"  and  as  the  former 
bear  a  name  which  primarily  denotes  a  soothsayer,  so  the 
latter  are  also  a  kind  of  priests  who  do  sacrificial  service 
with  a  wild  ritual  of  their  own.  How  deeply  the  orgiastic 
character  was  stamped  on  the  priesthoods  of  north  Semitic 
nature-worship  is  clear  from  Greek  and  Roman  accounts, 
such  as  that  of  Appuleius  {Metam.,  bk.  viii.).  Sensuality 
and  religious  excitement  of  the  wildest  kind  went  hand  in 
hand,  and  a  whole  army  of  degraded  ministers  of  a  religion 
of  the  ])assrons  was  gathered  round  every  famous  shrine. 

The  Hebrews,  who  made  the  language  of  Canaan  their 
own,  took  also  the  Canaanite  name  for  a  priest.  But  the 
earliest  forms  of  Hebrew  priestliood  are  not  Canaanite  in 
character ;  the  priest,  as  he  appears  in  the  older  records 
of  the  time  of  tlie  .Judges,  Eli  at  Shiloh,  Jonathan  in  the 
private  temple  of  Micah  and  at  Dan,  is  much  liker  the 
ladin  than  the  kdhin.^     The  whole  structure  of  Hebrew 

'  Meslnigg.V,  ^  Kings  ix.  H,  Jer.  ixii.  26, — a  term  of  contempt 
iipp!i(jd  to  iiriiplict.'!. 

'  For  examples,  SCO  Palmyra  nnd  Philistinis  ;  scefiirtlier,  Lncian, 
/)«  PeaS'/rin,  36,  for  Ilierapnlis  ;  Zosimus,  i.  68,  for  A|>)inei;  Pliny, 
//.  X.,  xxxvii.'SS  (compircil  with  Lurinn,  nt  supra,  and  Movers,  J^hoe- 
nizier,  i.  655),  for  the  tem]^le  of  Melkarl  at  T>re. 

'  Thi-j  appt-ara  even  In  the  vonls  userl  as  synnnym'i  for  "priest," 
rtlK'O,  tlDH  TTC,  whi'h  exactly  corresponil  ti  sirlin  on'f  liijih.  That 
W»  x!'.fm  </'  !n3  was  borrowed  from  tli«  Canaanitea  appears  certain, 


society  at  the  time  of  the  conquest  W9s  almost  prec!3el| 
that  of  a  federation  of  Arab  tribes,  and  the  religious  oroi 
nances  are  scarcely  distinguishable  from  those  of  Arabu 
save  only  that  the  great  deliverance  of  the  Exodus  and  til 
period  when  Moses,  sitting  in  judgment  at  the  sanctuaij 
of  Kadesh,  had  for  a  whole  generation  impressed  tht 
sovereignty  of  Jehovah  on  all  the  tribes,  had  created  an 
idea  of  unity  between  the  scattered  settlements  in  Canaan 
such  as  the  Arabs  before  Mohammed  never  had.  Bui 
neither  in  civil  nor  in  religious  life  was  this  ideal  unity 
expressed  in  fixed  institutions;  the  old  individualism  of  the 
Semitic  nomad  still  held  its  ground.  Thus  the  firstlings, 
first-fruits,  and  vows  are  still  the  free  gift  of  the  individual 
which  no  human  authority  exacts,  and  which  every  house- 
holder presents  and  consumes  with  his  circle  in  a  sacrificial 
feast  without  priestly  aid.  As  in  Arabia,  the  ordinary  sanc- 
tuary is  still  a  sacred  stone  ('"I3!»'0  =  nosb)  set  up  under  the 
open  heaven,  and  here  the  blood  of  the  victim  is  poured 
out  as  an  offering  to  God  (see  especially  1  Sam.  xiv.  34,  and 
compare  2  Sam.  xxiii.  16,  17).  The  priest  has  no  place 
in  this  ritual ;  he  is  not  the  minister  of  an  altar,*  but  the 
guardian  of  a  temple,  such  as  was  already  found  here  and 
there  in  the  land  for  the  custody  of  sacred  images  and 
palladia  or  other  consecrated  things  (the  ark  at  Shiloh, 
1  Sam.  iii.  3  ;  images  in  Micah'.'j  temple.  Judges  xvii.  5 ; 
Goliath's  sword  lying  behind  the  "  ephod  "  or  plated  image 
at  Nob,  1  Sam.  xxi.  9  ;  no  doubt  also  money,  as  in  the 
Canaanite  temple  at  Shechem,  Judges  ix.  4).  Such  trea> 
sures  required  a  guardian ;  but,  above  all,  wherever  there 
was  a  temple  there  was  an  oracle,  a  kind  of  sacred  lot, 
just  as  in  Arabia  (1  Sam.  xiv.  41,  Sept.),  which  could  only 
be  drawn  where  there  was  afl  "ephod "and  a  priest  (1 
Sam.  xiv.  18  Sept.  and  xxiii.  6  sg.).  The  Hebrews  had 
already  possessed  a  tent-temple  and  oracle  of  this  kind  in 
the  wilderness  (E.xod.  xxxiii.  7  sq.),  of  which-  Moses  wa» 
the  priest  and  Joshua  the  cedituus,  and  ever  since  that 
time  the  judgment  of  God  through  the  priest  at  the 
sanctuary  had  a  greater  weight  than  the  word  of  a  seer, 
and  was  the  ultimate  solution  of  every  controversy  and 
claim  (1  Sam.  ii.  25;  Exod.  xxi.  6,  xxii.  8,  9,  where  for 
"judge,"  "judges,"  read  "  God  ").  The  temple  at  Shiloh. 
where  the  ark  was  preserved,  was  the  lineal  descendant  o( 
the  Mosaic  sanctuary — for  it  was  not  the  place  but  the 
palladium  and  its  oracle  that  were  the  essential  thing — 
and  its  priests  claimed  kin  with  Moses  himself.  In  th« 
divided  state  of  the  nation,  indeed,  this  sanctuary  wai 
hardly  visited  from  beyond  Mount  Ephraim  ;  and  every 
man  or  tribe  that  cared  to  provide  the  necessary  apparatu* 
(ephod,  tcraphim,  &c.)  and  hire  a  priest  might  have  a 
temple  and  oracle  of  his  own  at  which  to  consult  Jehovah 
(Judges  xvii.,  xviii.);  but  there  was  hardly  another  sanc- 


for  that  out  of  the  multiplicity  of  words  for  soothsayers  and  the  likt 
common  to  Hebrew  and  Arabic  (either  formed  from  a  common  root  Of 

expressing  exactly  the  same  idea — ^iVl'i  'anaf ;  "13/1,  hnbir ;  nth, 

nxi,  hiizi ;   DDp,  comp.  istiksiim)  tha    two   nations   should  htvt 

chosen  the  same  one  independently  to  mean  a  priest  is,  in  view  of  the 
great  ditfercnce  in  character  l)etween  old  Hebrew  and  Canaanite  ]>rie.st- 
hoods,  inconceivable.  Besides  ]7\2  Hebrew  has  the  word  ^D^  (pi 
D'103),  which,  however,  is  hardly  applied  to  priests  of  the  uationa) 
religion.  This,  in  fact,  is  the  old  Aramaic  word  for  a  priiwt  (witk 
suffixed  articlt',  kuttirtl).  Its  origin  is  obscure,  but,  as  it  belongs  to  a 
vnce  in  which  the  mass  of  the  people  were  probably  not  circumciscil 
(Herod.,  ii.  104,  compared  with  Joseph.,  Ant.,  viii.  10,  3,  and  C.  .ip., 
i.  22)  while  llie  priests  were  (Dio  Cnssius,  Ixxix.  II;  JCp.  liarttahm, 
ix.  6;  coni|>.  Chwolson,  Ssabier,  ii.  114),  it  may  bo  conjictuiud  Uia> 
kumra  means  the  circumcised  (Ar.  kamira,  "qlaiis pniis"). 

*  It  is  not  (kar  from  1  Sam.  ii.  15  whether  even  at  Shiloh  th« 
priest  had  anythinj  to  do  with  sacrlHce.  whether  those  who  burned  Ill- 
fat  were  the  wor<liipper3  theni'^elvis  or  some  suliordinnto  minisleri  c»» 
the  teuiplo.  Ccrlninly  it  was  not  "  thu  priest  "  wha  did  so,  for  lie  In 
this  nanative  i-  always  in  the  singular.  Ilophni  ami  Pliinehas  ore  nt 
called  priests,  though  Ihcy  boro  the  ark,  uud  so  were  priests  ia  U.' 
•euss  of  Josh,  iii. 


728 


PRIEST 


tnary  of  equal  dignity.  The  priest  of  Siiloh  is-a  much 
greater  person  than  Micah's  priest  Jonathan  ;  at  the  great 
feasts  he  sits  enthroned  by  the  doorway,  preserving  decorum 
among  the  worshippers  ;  he  has  certain  legal  dues,  and  if 
he  is  disposed  to  exact  more  no  one  ventures  to  resist  (1 
*  Sam.  ii.  12  sq.,  where  the  text  needs  a  slight  correction). 
The  priestly  position  of  the  family  sjurvived  the  fall  of 
Shiloh  and  the  captivity  of  the  ark,  and  it  was  members  of 
this  house  who  consulted  Jehovah  for  the  early  kings  until 
Solomon  deposed  Abiathar.  Indeed,  though  priesthood 
was  not  yet  tied  to  one  family,  so  that  Micah's  son,  or 
Eleazar  of  Kirjath-jearim  (1  Sam.  vii.  1),  or  David's  sons 
(2  Sam.  viii.  18)  could  all  be  priests,  a  Levite — that  is,  a 
man  of  Moses'  tribe — was  already  preferred  for  the  office 
'>"where  than  at  Shiloh  (Judges  xvii.  13),  and  such  a 
priest  naturally  handed  down  his  place  to  his  posterity 
(Judges  xviii.  30). 

Ultimately,  indeed,  as  sanctuaries  were  multiplied  and 
the  priests  all  over  the  land  came  to  form  one  well-marked 
class,  "Levite"  and  legitimate  priest  became  equivalent 
expressions,  as  has  been  explained  in  detail  in  the  article 
Levites.  But  between  the  priesthood  of  EU  at  Shiloh 
or  Jonathan  aj;  Dan  and  the  priesthood  of  the  Levites  as 
described  in  Deut.  xxxiii.  8  sq.  there  lies  a  period  of  the 
inner  history  of  which  we  know  almost  nothing.  It  is 
plain  that  the  various  priestly  colleges  regarded  themselves 
as  one  order,  that  they  had  common  traditions  of  law  and 
ritual  which  were  traced  back  to  Moses,  and  common 
Interests  which  had  not  been  vindicated  without  a  struggle 
(Deut.,  ut  sup.).  The  kingship  had  not  deprived  them  of 
their  functions  as  fountains  of  divine  judgment  ■  (comp. 
Deut.  xvii.  8  sq.) ;  on  the  contrary,  the  decisions  of  the 
sanctuary  had  grown  up  into  a  body  of  sacred  law,  which 
the  priests  administered  according  to  a  traditional  preced- 
ent. According  to  Semitic  ideas  the  declaration  of  law  is 
quite  a  distinct  function  from  the  enforcing  of  it,  and  the 
royal  executive  came  into  no  collision  with  the  purely 
declaratory  functions  of  the  priests.  The  latter,  on  the 
contrary,  must  have  grown  in  importance  with  the  unifica- 
tion and  progress  of  the  nation,  and  in  all  probability  the 
consolidation  of  the  priesthood  into  one  class  went  hand 
in  hand  with  a  consolidation  of  legal  tradition.  And  this 
work  must  have  been  well  done,  for,  though  the  general 
corruption  of  society  at  the  beginning  of  the  Assyrian 
period  was  nowhere  more  conspicuous  than  at  the  sanctu- 
aries and  among  the  priesthood,  the  invective  of  HoS.  iv. 
equally  with  the  eulogium  of  Deut.  xxxiii.  proves  that  the 
position  which  the  later  priests  abused  had  been  won  by 
ancestors  who  earned  the  respect  of  the  nation  as  worthy 
representatives  of  a  divine  Torah. 

The  ritual  functions  of  the  priesthood  still  appear  in 
Deut.  xxxiii.  as  secondary  to  that  of  declaring  the  sentence 
of  God,  but  they  were  no  longer  insignificant.  With  the 
prosperity  of  the  nation,  and  especially  through  the  absorp- 
tion of  the  Canaanites  and  of  their  holy  places,  ritual  had 
become  much  more  elaborate,  and  in  royal  sanctuaries  at 
least  there  were  regular  public  offerings  "maintained  by  the 
king  and  presented  by  the  priests  (comp.  2  Kings  xvi.  15). 
Private  sacrifices,  too,  could  hardly  be  oflfered  without  some 
priestly  aid  now  that  ritual  was  more  complex ;  the  pro- 
vision of  Deut.  xviii.  as  to  the  priestly  dues  is  certainly 
ancient,  and  shows  that  besides  the  tribute  of  first-fruits  and 
the  like  the  priests  had  a  fee  in  kind  for  each  sacrifice,  as 
we  find  to  have  been  the  case  among  the  Phoenicians  accord- 
ing to  the  sacrificial  tablet  of  Marseilles.  Their  judicial 
functioas  also  brought  profit  to  the  priests,  fines  being 
exacted  for  certain  offences  and  paid  to  them  (2  Kings  xii. 
16;  Hos.  iv.  8,  Amos  ii.  8).  The  greater  priestly  offices 
were  therefore  in  every  respect  very  important  places, 
and  the  priests  of  the  royal  sanctuaries  were  among  the 


grandees  of  the  realm  (2  Sam.  viii.  18;  2  Kings  i.  11,  xii. 
2) ;  minor  offices  in  the  sanctuaries  were  in  the  patronage 
of  the  great  priests  and  were  often  miserable  enough,^  the 
petty  priest  depending  largely  on  what  "  customers "  he 
could  find  (2  Kings  xii.  7  [8] ;  Deut.  xviii.  8).  That  at  least 
the  greater  offices  were  hereditary — as  in  the  case  of  the 
sons  of  Zadok,  who  succeeded  to  the  royal  priesthood  in 
Jerusalem  after  the  fall  of  Abiathar — was  almost- a  matter 
of  course  as  society  was  then  constituted,  but  there  is  not 
the  slightest  trace  of  an  hereditary  hierarchy  officiating  by 
divine  right,  such  as  existed  after  the  exile.  The  sons  of 
Zadok,  the  priests  of  the  royal  chapel,  were  the  king's 
servants  as  absolutely  as  any  other  great  officers  of  state ; 
they  owed  their  place  to  the  fiat  of  King  Solomon,  and 
the  royal  will  was  supreme  in  all  matters  of  cultus  (2  Kings 
xii.,  xvi.  10  sq.);  indefed  the  monarchs  of  Judah,  like  those 
of  other  nations,  dic^  sacrifice  in  person  when  they  chose 
down  to  the  time  of  the  captivity  (1  Kings  ix.  25 ;  2  Kings 
xvi.  12  sq.;  Jer.  xix.  21).  And  as  the  sons  of  Zadok  had 
no  divine  right  as  against  the  kings,  so  too  they  had  no 
claim  to  be  more  legitimate  than  the  priests  of  the  local 
sanctuaries,  who  also  were  reckoned  to  the  tribe  which  in 
the  7th  century  B.C.  was  recognized  as  having  been  divinely 
set  apart  as  Jehovah's  ministers  in  the  days  of  Moses 
(Deut.  X.  8,  xviii.  1  sq.). 

The  steps  which  prepared  the  way  for  the  post-exile 
hierarchy,  the  destruction  of  the  northern  sanctuaries  and 
priesthoods  by  the  Assyrians,  the  polemic  of  the  spiritual 
prophets  against  the  corruptions  of  popular  worship,  which 
issued  in  the  reformation  of  Josiah,  the  suppression  of  the 
provincial  shrines  of  Judah  and  the  transference  of  their 
ministers  to  Jerusalem,  the  successful  resistance  of  the  sons 
of  Zadok  to  the  proposal  to  share  the  sanctuary  on  equal 
terms  with  these  new-comers,  and  the  theoretical  justifica- 
tion of  the  degradation  of  the  latter  to  the  position  of 
mere  servants  in  the  temple  supplied  by  Ezekiel  soon  after 
the  captivity,  have  already  been  explained  in  the  article 
Levites  and  in  Pentateuch  (vol.  xviii.  p.  510),  and  only 
one  or  two  points  call  for  additional  remark  here. 

It  is  instructive  to  observe  how  diflFerently  the  prophets 
of  the  8th  century  speak  of  the  judicial  or  "teaching" 
functions  of  the  priests  and  of  the  ritual  of  the  great 
sanctuaries.  For  the  latter  they  have  nothing  but  con- 
demnation, but  the  former  they  acknowledge  as  part  of  the 
divine  order  of  the  state,  while  they  complain  that  the 
priests  have  prostituted  their  office  for  lucre.  In  point  of 
fact  the  one  rested  on  old  Hebrew  tradition,  the  other  had 
taken  shape  mainly  under  Canaanite  iijfluence,  and  in  most 
of  its  features  was  little  more  than  the  crassest  nature- 
worship.  In  this  respect  there  was  no  distinction  between 
the  temple  of  Zion  and  other  shrines,  or  rather  it  was  just 
in  the  greatest  sanctuary  with  the  most  stately  ritual  that 
foreign  influences  had  most  play,  as  we  see  alike  in  the 
original  institutions  of  Solomon  and  in  the  innovations  of 
Ahaz  (2  Kings  xvi.  10  sq.,  xxiii.  11  sq.).  The  Canaanite 
influence  on  the  later  organization  of  the  temple  is  clearly 
seen  in  the  association  of  temple  prophets  with  the  temple 
priests  under  the  control  of  the  chief  priest,  which  is  often 
referred  to  by  Jeremiah;  even  the  viler  ministers  of  sensual 
worship,  the  male  and  female  prostitutes  of  the  Phoenician 
temples,  had  found  a  place  on  Mount  Zion  and  were  only 
removed  by  Josiah's  reformation.-  So,  too,  the  more  com^ 
plex  sacrificial  ritual  which  was  now  in  force  is  manifestly 
not  independent  of  the  Phoenician  ritual  as  we  know  it 
from  the  Marseilles  tablet.  All  this  necessarily  tended  to 
make  the  ritual  ministry  of  the  priests  more  important 


'  See  1  Sam.  ii.  S6,  a  passage  written  after  the  hereditary  dignity  of 
the  sons  of  Zadok  at  Jenisalem  was  well  established. 

'  2  Kings  xxiii.  7;  coinp.  Deut.  xxiii.  18,  where  "dog3"=  the  loter 
Galli ;  comp.  Corp,  Insc.  Sem. ,  i.  93  ij. 


PRIEST 


729 


than  it  had  been  in  old  times ;  but  it  was  in  the  dark  days 
of  Assyrian  tyranny,  in  the  reign  of  Manasseh,  when  the 
sense  of  divine  ivrath  lay  heavy  on  the  people,  when  the 
old  ways  of  seeking  Jehovah's  favour  had  failed  and  new 
and  more  powerful  meaiiS  of  atonement  were  eagerly  sought 
for  (Micah  vi.  6sq.;  2  Kings  xxi. ;  and  comp.  Moloch),  that 
sacrificial  functions  reached  their  full  importance.  In  the 
time  of  Josiah  altar  service  and  not  the  function  of  "  teach- 
ing" has  become  the  essential  thing  in  priesthood  (Deut. 
X.  8,  xviii.  .7) ;  the  latter,  indeed,  is  not  forgotten  (Jer.  ii. 
8,  xviii.  ]  8),  but  by  the  time  of  Ezekiel  it  also  has  mainly 
to  do  with  ritual,  with  the  distinction  between  holy  and 
profane,  clean  and  unclean,  with  the'statutory  observances 
at  festivals  and  the  like  (Ezek.  xliv.  23  sq.).  What  the 
priestly  Torah  was  at  tie  time  of  the  exile  can  be  seen 
from  the  collection  of  laws  in  Lev.  xvii.-xxvi.,  which  includes 
many  moral  precepts,  but  regards  them  equally  with  ritual 
precepts  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  maintenance  of 
nelional  holiness.  The  sacrificial  ritual  of  the  Priestly 
Code  (see  Pentateuch)  is  governed  by  the  same  principle. 
The  holiness  of  Israel  centres  in  the  sanctuary,  and  round 
the  sanctuary  stand  the  priests,  who  alone  can  approach 
■he  inost  holy  things  ■n-ithout  profanation,  and  who  are  the 
(juaraians  of  Israel's  sanctity,  partly  by  protecting  the  one 
meeting-place  of  God  and  man  from  profane  contact,  and 
partly  as  the  mediators  of  the  continual  atoning  rites  by 
which  breaches  of  holiness  are  expiated. 

The  bases  of  priestly  power  under  this  system  are  the 
unity  of  the  altar,  its  inaccessibility  to  laymen  and  to  the 
inferior  ministers  of  the  sanctuary,  and  the  specific  atoning 
function  of  the  blood  of  priestly  sacrifices.  All  these 
things  were  unknown  in  old  Israel :  the  altars  were  many, 
they  were  open  to  laymen,  and,  the  atoning  function  of 
the  priest  was  judicial,  not  sacrificial.  So  fundamental  a 
change  as  lies  between  Hosea  and  the  Priestly  Code  was 
only  possible  in  the  general  dissolution  of  the  old  life  of 
Israel  produced  by  the  Assyrians  and  by  the  prophets;  and 
indeed,  as  is  explained  under  Pentateuch,  the  new  order 
did  not  take  shape  as  a  system  till  the  exile  had  made  a 
tabula  rasa  of  all  old  institutions ;  but  it  was  undoubtedly 
the  legitimate  and  consistent  outcome  of  the  latest  develop- 
ment of  the  temple  worship  at  Jerusalem  beiore  the  exile. 
It  was  meant  also  to  give  expression  to  th«  demands  of 
the  prophets  for  spiritual  service  and  national  holiness, 
but  this  it  did  not  accomplish  so  successfully ;  the  ideas 
of  the  prophets  could  not  bo  realized  under  any  ritual 
system,  but  only  in  a  new  dispensation  (Jer.  xxxi.  31  sq.), 
ivhen  priestly  Torah  and  priestly  atonement  should  be  no 
longer  required.  Nevertheless,  the  concentration  of  all 
litual  at  a  single  point,  and  the  practical  exclusion  of  lay- 
men from  active  participation  in  it — for  the  old  sacrificial 
feast'  had  now  shrunk  ipto  entire  insignificance  in  compari- 
son with  the  stated  priestly  holocausts  and  atoning  rites' 
— lent  powerful  assistance  to  the  growth  of  a  new  and 
higher  type  of  personal  religion,  the  religion  which  found 
its  social, expression  not  in  material  acts  of  oblation  but  in 
the  language  of  the  Psalms.  In  the  best  times  of  the  old 
kingdom  the  priests  had  shared  the  place  of  the  prophets 
as  the  religious  leaders  of  the  nation ;  under  the  second 
temple  they  represented  the  unprogressive  traditional  side 
of  religion,  and  the  leaders  of  thought  were  the  psalmists 
and  the  scribes,  who  spoke  much  more  directly  to  the  piety 
of  the  nation. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  material  influence  of  ths 
priests  was  greater  than  it  had  ever  been  before ;  the 
temple  was  the  only  visible  centre  of  national  life  in  the 
ages  of  servitude  to  foreign  power,  and  the  priests  were 
the  only  great  national  functionaries,  who  drew  to  them- 

*  Comparo  tlie  impression  >7hich  tho  ritual  producod  OD  the  O'oots, 
^Tzx^ii  ThtoplirMtus,  pp.  8S,  111  sq. 

19-26* 


selves  all  the  sacred  dues  as  a  matter  of  right  and  even 
appropriated  the  tithes  paid  of  old  to  the  king.  Tc<! 
great  priests  had  always  belonged  to  the  ruling  class,  but 
the  Zadokites  were  now  the  only  hereditary  aristocracy, 
and  the  high  priest,  who  now  stands  forth  above  his  breth- 
ren with  a  prominence  unknown  to  the  times  of  the  first 
temple,  is  the  one  legitimate  head  of  the  theocratic  stats, 
as  well  as  its  sole  representative  in  the  highest  acts  of 
religion  (comp.  Pentateuch,  vol.  xviii.  p.  510).  When  the 
high  priest  stood  at  the  altar  in  all  his  princely  state,  when 
he  poured  out  the  libation  amidst  the  blare  of  trumpets,  aikl 
the  singers  lifted  up  their  voice  and  all  the  people  feh 
prostrate  in  prayer  till  he  descended  and  raised  his  hands 
in  blessing,  the  slaves  of  the  Greek  or  the  Persian  forgot 
for  a  moment  their  bondage  and  knew  that  the  day  ot 
their  redemption  was  near  (Ecclus.  1.).  The  high  priest  Xt 
such  a  moment  seemed  to  embody  all  the  glory  of  the 
nation,  as  the  kings  had  done  of  old,  and  when  the  tine 
came  to  strike  a  successful  blow  for  freedom  it  was  a 
priestly  house  that  led  the  nation  to  the  victory  whicli 
united  in  one  person  the  functions  of  high  priest  and 
prince.  From  the  foundation  of  the  Hasmonean  state  to 
the  time  of  Herod  the  history  of  the  high-priesthood 
merges  in  the  political  history  of  the  nation;  from  Herod 
onward  the  priestly  aristocracy  of  the  Sadducees  lost  its 
chief  hold  over  the  nation  and  expired  in  vain  controversy 
with  the  Pharisees.     (See  Israel.) 

The  influence  of  the  Hebrew  priesthood  on  the  thought 
and  organization  of  Christendom  was  the  influence  not  of 
a  living  institution,  for  it  hardly  began  till  after  the  fall 
of  the  temple,  but  of  the  theory  embodied  in  the  later 
parts  of  the  Pentateuch.  Two  points,  in  this  theory  were 
Laid  hold  of — the  doctrine  of  priestly  mediation  and  the 
system  of  priestly  hierarchy.  The  first  forms  the  text  of 
the  principal  argument  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  in 
which  the  author  easily  demonstrates  the  inadequacy  of 
the  mediation  and  atoning  rites  of  the  Old  Testament,  and 
builds  upon  this  demonstration  the  doctrine  of  the  effectual 
liigh-priesthood  of  Christ,  who,  in  His  sacrifice  of  Himself, 
truly  "  led  His  people  to  God,"  not  leaving  them  outside 
as  He  entered  the  heavenly  sanctuary,  but  taking  them 
with  Him  into  spiritual  nearness  to  the  throne  of  grace. 
This  argument  leaves  no  room  for  a  special  priesthood  in 
tho  Christian  church,  and  in  fact  nothing  of  the  kind  is 
found  in  tho  oldest  organization  of  the  new  communities 
of  faith.  The  idea  that  presbyters  and  bishops  are  priests 
and  the  successors  of  the  Old  Testament  priesthood  first 
appears  in  full  force  in  the  writings  of  Cyprian,  and  hero 
it  is  not  the  notion  of  priestly  mediation  but  that  of 
priestly  power  which  is  insisted  on.  Church  office  is  a  copy 
of  the  old  hierarchy.  Now  among  the  Jews,  as  wo  have 
seen,  tho  hierarchy  proper  has  for  its  necessary  condition 
the  destruction  of  the  state  and  the  bondage  of  Israel  to 
a  foreign  prince,  so  that  spiritual  power  is  the  only  basis 
loft  for  a  national  aristocracy.  Tho  same  conditions  harve 
produced  similar  spiritual  aristocracies  again  and  again  iq 
the  East  in  more  modern  times,  and  even  in  antiquity  more 
than  one  Oriental  priesthood  took  a  line  of  development 
similar  to  that  which  we  have  traced  in  Jud;ea.  Thus  the 
hereditary  priests  of  Kozah  (Kof<')  were  tho  chief  digni- 
taries in  lduma;a  at  tho  time  of  tho  Jcwi.sh  conquest  of 
tho  country  (Jos.,  Ant.,  xv.  7,  9),  and  tho  high  priest  of 
Hierapolis  wore  the  princely  purple  and  crown  like  the 
high  priest  of  the  Jews  (De  Dea  Syria,  42).  Tho  kingly 
insignia  of  tho  high  priest  of  tho  sun  at  Emc.sa  are  described 
by  Herodian  (v.  3,  3),  in  connexion  with  tho  history  of 
Elagabalus,  whose  elevation  to  tho  Roman  jnirplo.was 
mainly  due  to  the  extraordinary  local  influence  of  his  sacer- 
dotal place.  Other  examples  of  priestly  princes  aro  given 
by  Strabo   in   speaking  of   Pessinus  (p.  567)  and   Olbe 


730 


P  R  I  — P  R  I 


(p.  672)  ^  As  no  such  hierarchy  existed  in  the  West,  it 
is  plain  that  if  the  idea  of  Christian  priesthood  was  influ- 
enced by  living  institutions  as  well  as  by  the  Old  Testar 
ment  that  influence  must  be  sought  in  the  East  (comp. 
Lightfoot,  Philippians,  p.  261).  The  further  development 
of  the  notion  of  Christian  priesthood  was  connected  with 
the  view  that  the  Eucharist  is  a  propitiatory  sacrifice  which 
only  a  consecrated  priest  can  perform.  The  history  of 
this  development  is  still  very  obscure,  especially  as  regards 
its  connexion  with  heathen  ideas,  but  something  will  fall 
to  be  said  on  it  under  the  heading  of  Sackitice.  It  is 
sufficient  to  remark  here  that  the  presentation  of  the  sacri- 
fice of  the  mass  came  to  be  viewed  as  the  essential  priestly 
office,  so  that  the  Christian  presbyter  really  was  a  sacerdos 
in  the  antique  sense.  Protestants,  in  rejecting  the  sacrifice 
of  the  mass,  deny  also  that  there  is  a  Christian  priesthood 
"like  the  Levitical,"  and  have  either  dropped  the  name  of 
"  priest "  or  use  it  in  a  quite  emasculated  sense. 

There  is  probably  no  nature  religion  among  races  above 
mere  savagery  which  has'  not  had  a  priesthood  ;  but  an  ex- 
amination of  other  examples  would  scarcely  bring  out  any 
important  feature  that  has  not  been  already  iUustrated. 
Among  higher  religions  orthodox  Islam  has  never  had 
real  priests,  doing  religious  acts  on  behalf  of  others,  though 
it  has,  like  Protestant  churches,  leaders  of  public  devotion 
(imdms)  and  an  important  class  of  privileged  religious 
teachers  ('ulemA).  But  a  distinction  of  grades  of  holiness 
gained  by  ascetic  life  has  never  been  entirely  foreign  to 
the  Eastern  mind,  and  in  the  popular  faith  of  Mohammedan 
peoples  something  very  Eke  priesthood  has  crept  in  by  this 
channeL  For  where  holiness  is  associated  vnth  ascetic 
practices  the  masses  can  never  attain  to  a  perfect  life,  and 
naturally  tend  to  lean  on  the  professors  of  special  sanctity 
as  the  mediators  of  their  religious  welfare.  The  best 
example,  however,  of  a  full-blown  priestly  system  with 
a  monastic  hierarchy  grafted  in  this  way  on  a  religion 
originally  not  priestly  is  found  in  Tibetan  Buddhism 
(see  L.oiaism),  and  similar  causes  undoubtedly  had  their 
share  in  the  development  of  sacerdotalism  in  the  Christian 
church.  The  idea  of  priestly  asceticism  expressed  in  the 
celibacy  of  the  clergy  belongs  also  to  certain  types  of 
heathen  and  especially  Semitic  priesthood,  to  those  above 
all  in  which  the  priestly  service  is  held  to  have  a  magical 
or  theurgic  quality.  (w.  E.  s.) 

PRIESTLEY,  Joseph  (1733-1804),  was  born  on  13th 
March  1733  at  Fieldhead  near  Birstal,  in  the  West  Riding 
of  Yorkshire.  His  father,  Jonas  Priestley,  was  a  woollen- 
cloth  dresser  and  apparently  of  very  moderate  means.  His 
mother  was  the  only  child  of  Joseph  Swift,  a  farmer  at 
Shafton  near  Wakefield.  The  paternal  grandfather,  also 
named  Joseph,  was  a  churchman  whose  high  moral  char- 
acter became  a  sacred  tradition  in  his  family.  The  young 
Joseph's  parents  were.  Nonconformists.  They  had  six 
children  in  eight  years,  and  on  the  birth  of  the  last,  in 
the  hard  winter  of  1739,  the  mother  died.  During  those 
years  Joseph  lived  a  good  deal  with  his  maternal  grand- 
father at  Shafton.  But  he  relates  that  his  mother  "was 
careful  to  teach  him  the  Assembly's  Catechism,"  and  that, 
with  a  view  of  impressing  on  his  mind  "a  clear  idea  of 
the  distinction  of  property,"  she  on  one  occasion  made 
him  carry  back  a  pin.  which  he  had  picked  up  at  the  house 
of  an  uncle.  Three  years  after  the  loss  of  his  mother, 
his  father's  sister,  Mrs  Keighley,  a  lady  in  good  circum- 
stances, having  no  children  of  her  own,  took  the  boy  to 
live  with  her. 

At  the  age  of  twelve  he  was  sent  to  a  neighbouring 

endowed  school,  where,  under  the  tuition  of  a  clergyman, 

Mr  Hague,  he  made  rapid  progress  in  classics,  while  on 

holidays,  by  way  of  recreation,  he  learned  Hebrew  from 

'  See  also  MommseD,  Hist,  of  Home,  Eng.  trans.,  iv.  150. 


Mr  Kirkley,  a  Dissenting  minister.  On  the  removal  of 
the  clergyman  Mr  Kirkley  opened  a  school  of  his  own, 
and  Priestley  became  entirely  his  pupil.  From  the  age 
of  sixteen  to  nearly  twenty  his  health  was  unsatisfactory, 
and  he  attended  neither  school  nor  college,  but  still  con- 
tinued his  studies  in  private  vnth  occasional  assistance. 
It  was  thought  that  his  constitution  would  be  better 
adapted  to  an  active  than  to  a  sedentary  life,  and  with  a 
view  to  commerce  he  learned  French,  Italian,  and  German 
without  assistance.  But  the  aunt,  Mrs  Keighley,  had  set 
her  heart  on  making  a  minister  of  him,  and  young  Priestley's 
own  aspirations  took  the  same  form.  When,  therefore,  his 
health  improved,  the  offer  of  a  mercantile  situation  in 
Lisbon  was  surrendered,  and  Priestley  in  his  twentieth  year 
(1752)  was  sent  to  Daventry,  where  there  existed  a  Non- 
conformist academy,  originally  founded  by  Dr  Doddridge 
at  Northampton,  and  removed  after  his  incapacitation  by 
illness  or  on  his  death  in  1751. 

There  is  no  mention  of  any  hesitation  on  the  part  of 
Priestley  or  his  friends  as  to  whether  he  should  enter  the 
established  church  or  not.  But  there  was  certainly  nothing 
in  his  theological  creed  at  this  period  to  have  prevented 
his  taking  orders.  The  hindrance,  therefore,  must  have 
been  his  adherence  to  the  Nonconformist  tradition  on  ques- 
tions of  ecclesiastical  polity  and  ritual.  There  were,  how- 
ever, in  his  early  associations  some  elements  which  not 
only  help  to  explain  his  after  career  but  throw  a  curious 
light  on  the  fluid  condition  of  Nonconformist  denominations 
in  those  days  as  compared  with  their  sectarian  fixedness 
now.  He  was  brought  up  in  the  principles  of  Calvinism. 
But  he  tells  us  his  aunt's  house  "was  the  resort  of  all 
the  Dissenting  ministers  in  the  neighbourhood  without  dis- 
tinction ;  and  those  who  were  most  obnoxious  on  account 
of  their  heresy  were  almost  as  welcome  to  her,  if  she 
thought  them  honest  and  good  men — which  she  was  not 
unwilling  to  do — as  any  others."  Notwithstanding  the 
comparative  freedom  of  the  conversations  to  which  he 
listened,  young  Priestley  at  seventeen  was  strictly  orthodox, 
and  anxiously  endeavoured  to  realize  the  experiences  he 
supposed  to  be  necessary  to  conversion.  His  chief  trouble 
was  that  he  could  not  repent  of  Adam's  transgression,  a 
difficulty  he  never  surmounted.  The  pressure  of  this  im- 
possibility forced  his  candid  mind  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  must  be  a  mistake  somewhere,  and  he  began  to 
doubt  whether  he  was  really  so  much  entangled  in  Adam's 
guilt  as  he  had  been  taught.  Accordingly  he  was  refused 
admission  into  the  commimion  of  the  Independent  church 
which  his  aunt  attended.  His  adhesion  to  Calvinism  was 
now  considerably  relaxed.  But  this  did  not  interfere  with 
his  entrance  at  Daventry.  Dr  Doddridge  had  not  confined 
his  educational  aims  to  students  for  the  ministry,  and 
he  not  only  refused  to  impose  theological  tests  but  he 
incurred  reproach  by  resolutely  refusing  to  press  his  own 
orthodox  creed  on  the  heterodox  pupils  occasionally  re- 
ceived. Priestley's  intellectual  preparation  previous  to  his 
entrance  is  noteworthy.  Besides  being  a  fair  classic,  he 
had  improved  his  Hebrew  by  giving  lessons  in  that  lan- 
guage. He  had  acquired  three  modern  languages.  He 
had  "  learned  Chaldee  and  Sj-riac,  and  just  begun  to  read 
Arabic " ;  nor  was  he  disproportionately  backward  in 
mathematics.  He  had  also  mastered  's  Gravesande's  Ele- 
ments of  Natural  Philosophi/,  and  various  text-books  of  the 
time  in  logic  and  metaphysics.  It  cannot  surprise  us  that 
he  "was  excused  all  the  studies  of  the  first  year  and  a 
great  part  of  those  of  the  second. '  At  Daventry  he  stayed 
three  years,  taking  a  prominent  part  in  the  singularly  free 
discussions  that  seem  to  have  formed  a  considerable  part 
of  the  academical  exercises.  "In  this  situation,"  he  says, 
"I  saw  reason  to  embrace  what  is  generally  called  tha 
heterodox  side  of  almost  every  question."    His  chief  tutor* 


PRIESTLEY 


731 


Were  Dr  Ashworth  of  conservative  and  the  Rev.  Samuel 
Clark  of  decidedly  liberal  tendencies.  Priestley's  specula- 
tions at  this  time  were  philosophical  rather  than  scientific. 
Under  the  influence  of  Hartley's  Observations  on  Man  and 
Collins's  Philosophical  Enquiry  he  exchanged  his  early 
Calvinism  for  a  system  of  "  necessarianism," — that  is,  he 
learned  to  hold  that  the  invariable  connexion  of  cause  and 
effect  is  as  inviolable  in  the  moral  as  in  the  material  world. 
During  these  early  years  he  began  his  enormous  industry 
as  a  WTiter,  and  in  particular  laid  down  the  lines  of  his 
Institutes  of  Natural  and  Revealed  Religion. 

From  Daventry  he  went  in  1755,  at  twenty-two  years 
of  age,  to  take  chargeof  a  small  congregation  at  Needham 
Market  in  Suffolk.  This  church  was  halting  between 
Presbyterianism  and  Independency,  being  subsidized  by 
both.  Priestley  insisted  on  dropping  the  Independent  con- 
nexion. As  a  consequence  he  had  to  content  himself  with 
a  salary  of  £30,  and  succeeded  in  living  on  less.  His 
studies  had  not  in  the  least  chilled  his  devotion  to  the 
sacred  work,  which  indeed  to  the  end  of  his  life  he  counted 
his  highest  honour.  He  was  diligent  in  preaching  and 
teaching,  but  his  intellectual  freedom,  together  with  a 
physical  difficulty  in  speech,  prevented  his  attaining 
popularity.  To  cure  the  defect  in  speech  he  paid  twenty 
guineas,  given  by  his  aunt,  to  a  London  specialist  or 
quack.  But  this  difficulty  turned  out  to  be  as  irremediable 
as  his  intellectual  unconformability ;  and  the  only  per- 
manent advantage  derived  from  his  visit  to  the  metropolis 
was  an  introduction  to  various  scholars  of  the  day,  such 
as  Dr  Price,  also  Dr  Benson  and  Dr  Kippis,  friends  of 
Lardner.  Later  on  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  last 
also  through  some  manuscript  notes  on  the  doctrine  of 
atonement,  which  attracted  the  great  scholar's  attention. 

In  1758  Priestley  removed  to  Nantwich,  obtaining  a 
more  congenial  congregation ;  and  there  he  established 
a  school,  which  increased  his  income  but  lessened  his 
^iterary  activity.  Always  bringing  his  best  intelligence 
•o  bear  on  everything  he  undertook,  he  varied  his  element- 
ary lessons  with  instruction  in  natural  philosophy,  illus- 
trated by  experiments,  for  which  he  could  now  afford  the 
needful  instruments.  "These,"  he  says,  "I  taught  my' 
scholars  in  the  highest  class  to  keep  in  order,  and  to 
make  use  of  ;  and  by  entertaining  their  parents  and  friends 
with  experiments,  in  which  the  scholars  were  generally 
the  operators,  and  sometimes  the  lecturers  too,  I  con- 
siderably extended  the  reputation  of  my  school."  Up 
to  this  time  hiS  studies  had  been  entirely  literary  and 
theologico-philosophical.  It  is  noteworthy  that  his  efforts 
to  liberalize  education  turned  his  attcntii)n  to  science.  He 
was  probably  one  of  the  very  first  teachers  to  appreciate 
the  importance  of  physical  science  to  early  culture. 

In  1761  he  was  appointed  classical  tutor  in  a  Noncon- 
formist academy,  then  recently  established  at  Warrington 
on  the  same  liberal  principles  as  the  institution  at  Daventry. 
In  this  position  ho  passed  six  of  his  happiest  years, 
pursuing  his  scientific  studies,  especially  in  chemistry  and 
electricity,  enjoying  congenial  intercourse  with  Dr  Turner 
of  Liverpool,  also  with  Wedgwood's  partner  Mr  Bcntley, 
Dr  Enfield,  and  various  Manchester  men  whoso  sons  or 
grandsons  helped  to  form  the  "Manchester  school."  In 
1762  he  married  the  daughter  of  Mr  Isaac  Wilkinson,  an 
ironmaster  of  Wrexham.  At  Warrington  Priestley  rccei'ved 
the  complimentary  degree  of  LL.D.  from  Edinburgh, 
apparently  in  recognition  of  his  Chart  of  Ilistory.  On 
a  visit  to  London  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Dr  Franklin, 
and  his  researches  in  electricity  j)rocured  his  election  to  the 
Royal  Society  in  1766. 

In  the  following  year  (17G7)  Dr  Priestley  removed  to 
Leeds  to  take  charge  of  Mill  Hill  chapel ;  and  in  the 
s-irae  year  was  published  his  Uistory  of  Electricity,  a  work 


suggested  by  Dr  Franklin,  and  contributing  greatly  to 
the  author's  fame.  Now,  however,  he  turned  once  more 
to  speculative  theology,  and  surrendered  the  Arianism  he 
had  hitherto  loosely  held,  adopting  instead  definite  Socinian 
views.  In  addition  to  preaching  and  teaching  diligently 
in  his  congregation  he  carried  on  his  chemical  researches 
with  results  considered  at  the  time  startling.  Chemistry 
was  hardly  in  its  infancy ;  it  was  unborn.  "  The  vast 
science,"  says  Mr  Huxley,  "which  now  passes  under  that 
name  had  no  existence."  Living  next  door  to  a  brewery 
Dr  Priestley  amused  himself  with  experiments  oil  the 
"  fixed  air  "  (carbonic  acid)  produced  there,  and  succeeded 
in  forcing  it  into  water.  Thus  commenced  his  researches 
on  "different  kinds  of  air,"  remarkable  rather  for  the 
impulse  they  gave  to  controversy  and  experiment  than 
for  any  mature  scientific  results.  He  had  a  keen  instinct 
for  surmise,  but  no  adequate  method  of  research  and 
verification.  On  this  point  Roscoe  •  and  Schorlemmer 
observe  in  their  treatise  on  Chemistry  (vol.  i.  p.  18)  that 
"  Priestley's  notion  of  original  research,  which  seems  quite 
foreign  to  our  present  ideas,  may  be  excused,  perhaps 
justified  by  the  state  of  science  in  his  day.  He  believed 
that  all  discoveries  are  made  by  chance,  and  he  compares 
the  investigation  of  nature  to  a  hound,  vrildly  running 
after,  and  here  and  there  chancing  on  game  (or,  as  James 
Watt  called  it,  'his  random  haphazarding ')',  whilst  we 
would  rather  be  disposed  to  compare  the  man  of  science 
to  the  sportsman,  who  having,  after  persistent  effort,  laid 
out  a  distinct  plan  of  operations,  makes  reasonably  sure 
of  his  quarry."  At  this  time  also  ho  wrote  various  political 
tracts  and  papers,  always  in  favour  of  popular  rights,  and 
in  particular  hostUe  to  the  attitude  of  the  Government 
towards  the  American  colonies. 

In  1771  he  was  nearly  appointed  to  accompany  Captain 
Cook  to  the  South  Seas.  But  the  Government  of  the  day 
was  shocked  at  the  idea  of  giving  official  position  to  a 
Socinian  minister,  and  Priestley  was  disappointed.  Shortly 
afterwards  he  accepted  the  somewhat  anomalous  situation 
of  "  literary  companion  "  and  librarian  to  Lord  Shelburne. 
With  this  nobleman  he  travelled  in  Holland  and  Germany, 
returning  by  Paris,  where  he  spent  a  month  in  1774.  The 
position  gave  him  ample  leisure  for  his  scientific  and 
literary  pursuits.  But  .  on  the  completion  of  his  most 
noteworthy  philosophical  treatise,  Disquisitions  on  Matter 
and  Spirit,  the  connexion  was  dissolved.  It  has  been 
surmised  that  the  patron  feared  to  share  the  unpopularity 
of  his  client's  views.  Those  views  Priestley  himself  con- 
sidered to  be  "  materialistic."  It  is  a  question  of  words. 
Seeing  that  he  denied  impenetrability  to  matter,  it  is 
difficult  to  say  why  the  substance  he  left  might  not  as  well 
bo  called  spirit  as  anything  else.  ■ 

In  1780  he  removed  to  Birmingham,  where  ho  enjoyed 
the  friendship  of  James  Watt  and  his  partner  Boulton,  also 
of  Dr  Darwin,  grandfather  of  the  illustrious  man  in  whom 
the  honours  of  the  name  culminated.  Here  Dr  Priestley 
again  took  charge  of  a  congregation,  an'd  resumed  his 
theological  efforts  in  a  controversy  with  the  bishop  of 
Waterford,  and  in  a  laborious  Ilistory  of  the  Corruptions 
of  Christianity.  But  bad  times  were  at  hand.  The  French 
Revolution  excited  passionate  controversy,  and  Priestley 
was  naturally  on  the  side  of  the  revolutionists.  In  1791 
the  anniversary  of  the  capture  of  the  Bastille  was  observed 
in  Birmingham  by  a  dinner  at  which  ho  was  not  preseni, 
and  with  which  ho  had  nothing  to  do.  But  the  mob 
wished  to  testify  by  some  signal  deed  their  abhorrence  of 
the  un-English  notions  propounded  at  the  dinner,  and  there- 
fore biirned  down  Priestley's  chapel  and  house.  Before 
the  deed  was  done  they  waded  knee  deep  in  torn  manu- 
scrijjts,  and  amused  themselves  with  futile  efforts  to  make 
an  electric  machine  avenge  its  owner's  jmpiety  by  firing 


732 


P  R  I  — P  R  1 


tie  papers  with  a  spark.  Tlie  blow  vras  a  terrible  one. 
Priestley  and  his  family  had  escaped  violence  by  timely 
flight,  but  every  material  possession  he'  valued  was  de- 
stroyed and  the  labours  of  years  annihilated.  But  neither 
despair  nor  bitterness  possessed  him.  He  left  Birmingham, 
and  for  three  years  preached  in  Hackney,  then  a  suburban 
•village,  and  in  1794  he  went  out  to  the  young  States  whose 
cause  he  had  advocated,  to  spend  the  last  ten  years  of  his 
life  in  the  land  of  the  future.  He  resided  at  Northumber- 
land in  Pennsylvania,  eager  as  ever  for  controversy  and 
research.  His  niaterialism,  so-called,  never  dimmed  his 
hope  of  immortality.  His  religion  to  the  end  was  char- 
acterized by  a  childlike  simplicity  of  spirit.  On  his  death- 
ted  he  would  have  his  grandchildren  to  kneel  by  his  side 
for  their  daily  prayers,  and  listened  with  pleasui'e  to  the 
hymns  they  lisped.  On  the  6th  of  February  1804  he 
clearly  and  audibly  dictated  a  few  alterations  he  wished 
to  make  in  some  of  his  publications.  "  That  is  right,"  he 
said,  "  I  have  now  done  " ;  and  within  an  hour  he  quietly 
expired. 

The  interest  of  Dr  Priestley's  life  lies  not  so  much  in 
any  splendid  achievements,  either  literary  or  scientific,  but 
rather  in  the  character  of  the  man.  His  career  also  affords 
a  typical  illustration  of  the  mutual  relation  and  interaction 
of  several  great  factors  of  human  progress  at  a  very  critical 
period.  As  a  Nonconformist  minister,  born  into  a  Calvin- 
istic  circle,  educated  in  an  Independent  academy,  develop- 
ing into  a  Socinian  divine,  yet  maintaining  always  the  most 
friendly  relations  with  clerg3Tnen,  priests,  and  orthodox 
ministers,  he  gives  us  a  curious  insight  into  the  condition 
of  English  religion  just  before  its  sectarian  divisions  had 
hardened  into  their  modern  form.  As  a  pioneer  in  the 
investigation  of  gases  and  the  discoverer  of  oxygen  he 
helped — but,  it  must  be  admitted,  as  often  by  his  mistakes 
as  by  his  successes — to  erect  chemistry  into  a  science.  As 
a  professed  materialist  whose  dectrines  seemed  at  the  same 
time  to  merge  matter  in  force  he,  amongst  others,  prepared 
the  way  for  the  modern  agnosticism,  which  declines  to  look 
behind  phenomena.  As  a  politician  he  anticipated  nine- 
teenth-century radicalism.  In  general,  as  an  exceptionally 
single-eyed  and  fearless  searcher  after  truth  he  bore  the 
brunt  of  persecution  by  vulgar  ignorance,  and  in  his  dis- 
appointments illustrated  how  little  can  be  practically 
accomplished  by  isolated  enlightenment  apart  from  popular 
education. 

The  works  of  Dr  Priestley,  as  collected  and  edited  by  John  Towill 
Kntt,  fill  twenty-five  octavo  volumes,  one  of  which,  however,  con- 
^ts  of  memoirs  and  correspondence.  The  date  of  this  collected 
edition  is  1832.  It  contaius  upwards  of  130  separate  works, 
varying  in  size  from  brief  pamphlets  to  treatises  in  four  volumes, 
and  his  labours  range  over  almost  all  possible  subjetts  of  human 
knowledge  or  speculatiou.  Mathematics, ,  chemistry,  physiology, 
grammar,  logic,  mental  and  moral  philosophy,  history,  theology, 
interpretation  of  prophecy,  politics,  aud  sociology,  all  alike  fur- 
nished themes  for  Priestley's  untiring  pen,  and  if  he  did  not  write 
•n  any  of  them  with  striking  originality  he  treated  all  with  freedom 
and  intelligence.  In  1761  he  issued  his  first  published  works,  a 
treatise  on  the  Scripture  Doctrine  of  Remission  and  The  Rudiments 
of  English  Grammar.  From  that  date  till  1767  he  was  content 
with  publishing  something  every  alternate  year.  But  from  1767 
to  1804  he  allowed  only  two  years  to  go  by  unmarked  by  one  or 
more  publications,  many  of  them  remarkable  as  monuments  of  con- 
scientious and  laborious  industry.  His  first  scientific  work,  The 
History  and  Present  StaXc  of  Electricity,  with  Original  Experiments, 
was  published  in  1767.  '  The  rapid  advance  of  science  has  left  to 
this  and  similar  works  of  his  little  more  than  an  antiquarian  inter- 
est. But  the  treatise  illustrates  lys  prophetic  spirit,  inasmuch  as  it 
shows  how  far  he  was  in  advance  of  his  contemporaries  in  appreci- 
ation of  the  prospects  of  physical  research.  In  1774  he  issued  his 
first  volume  of  Experiments  and  Observations  on  Different  Branches 
of  Air,  ttc.  In  this  volume  he  announced  his  discovery  of  "de- 
phlogisticated  air,"  now  known  as  oxygen.  The  then  prevalent 
theory  of  phlogiston,  or  the  combustible  principle  in  matter,  betrayed 
kim  into  gre.it  confusion,  evident  enough  in  the  very  name  he  gave 
to  his  new  "  branch  of  air."  Nevertheless  it  is  said  of  him  in 
fioscoe  and  Scborlcmmer's  Chemistry  {vol.  i.  p.  16)  that  "no  one 


obtained  more  important  results  or  threw  more  light  upon  tVi» 
chemical  existence  of  a  number  of  ditferent  gases  than  Josepn 
PrifStley."  These  Experiments  and  Observations  were  continued 
through  five  volumes,  of  which  the  last  appeared  in  1780.  Perhaps 
the  limit  of  Priestley's  power  of  growth  is  illustrated  by  the  persist- 
ency with  which- he  clung  to  phlogiston  notwithstanding  the  dis- 
coveries of  Black,  Lavoisier,  and  Cavendish.  In  1800  he  issued  a 
treatise  called  The  Doctrine  of  Phlogiston  csiablislied,  and  that  of  the 
Composition  of  Water  refuted.  In  a  letter  of  that  year  to  the  Rev. 
T.  Lindsay  he  says,  "  I  have  well  considered  all  that  my  opponents 
have  advanced,  and  feel  perfectly  confident  of  the  ground  I  stand 
upon.  In  this  definitive  treatise  I  insert  aU  that  is  contained  in 
my  former  publications  on  the  subject,  with  many  new  experiments. 
Though  nearly  alone,  I  am  under  no  apprehension  of  defeat."  Dr 
Priestley  clearly  failed  to  appreciate  the  progress  of  the  science  he 
had  done  so  much  to  promote.  But  the  attempt  made  by  Lavoisier 
to  claim  for  himself  a  concurrent  discovery  of  oxygen  at  the  sama 
time  as  Priestley's  was  certainly  unjustifiable.  This  achievement, 
together  with  the  first  preparation  of  nitric  oxide,  nitrous  oxide, 
hydrochloric  acid,  and  other  important  gases,  constitutes  the  true 
ground  of  his  fame  as  a  scientific  pioneer  (see  Koscoe  and  Schor- 
lemmer.  I.e.). 

Priestley's  chief  theological  works  were  the  Institutes  of  Natural 
UTid  Revealed  Religion,-  A  History  of  the  Corrvjptions  of  Christianity, 
and  A  General  History  of  the  Christian  Church  to  the  Fall  of  the 
JVestem  Empire.  Bishop  Horsley's  criticisms  on  the  second  of 
these  works  produced  letters  in  reply,  "with  additional  evidence 
that  the  primitive  church  was  Unitarian."  His  principal  meta- 
physical writings  were  Disquisitions  relating  to  Matter  and  Spirit 
and  various  essays  and  letters  on  necessarianism.  A  complete  list 
of  "his  works  wUi  be  found  in  vol.  i.  part  ii:  of  Kutt's  collected 
edition.  (J.  A.  P.,  jr. ) 

PRIM,  Juan,  JIaequis  de  los  Castillejos,  Count  dk 
Reuss  (1814-1870),  Spanish  soldier  and  statesman,  was 
the  son  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Pablo  Prim,"  and  was  bom 
at  Reuss  in  Catalonia  on  12th  December  1814.  He 
entered  the  free  corps  known  as  the  volunteers  of  Isabella 
II.  in  1834  and  greatly  distinguished  himself  throughout 
the  Carlist  War,  in  the  course  of  which  he  rose  to  the  rank 
of  lieutenant-colonel  and  had  two  orders  of  knighthood 
conferred  upon  him.  After  the  pacification  of  1839  ha 
entered  political  life,  and  as  a  progressist  opposed  to  the 
dictatorship  of  Espartero  he  was  sent  into  exile.  How- 
ever, in  1843  he  was  elected  deputy  for  Tarragona  ancf 
issued  a  pronunciamento  against  Espartero  at  Reuss  ;  and 
after  defeating  Espartero  at  Bruch  he  entered  Madrid  in 
triumph  with  Serrano.  The  regent  Maria  Christina  recog- 
nized his  services,  promoted  him  to  the  rank  of  major- 
general,  and  made  him  count  of  Reuss.  Prim  now  looked 
forward  to  peace  under  a  .settled  constitutional  monarchy, 
but  Narvaez,  the  prime  minister,  failed  to  understand  what 
constitutional  freedom  meant,  and  Prim,  on  showing  signs 
of  opposition,  was  sentenced  to  six  years'  imprisonment  in 
the  Philippine  Islands.  The  sentence  was  not  carried  out, 
and  Prim  remained  an  exile  in  England  and  Franpe  until 
the  alnnesty  of  1847.  He  then  returned  to  Spain,  but 
kept  aloof  from  politics,  and  was  first  employed  as  captain- 
general  of  Porto  Rico  and  afterwards  as  military  represent' 
ative  of  Spain  with  the  sultan  during  the  Crimean  War. 
In  1854  he  returned  to  Spain  on  being  elected  to  tht; 
cortes,  and  gave  his  support  to  O'Donnell,  who  promoted 
him  to  be  lieutenant-general  in  1856.  In  the  war  with" 
Morocco,  at  the  head  of  his  division,  he  did  such  good 
service  at  Los  Castillejos. or  Marabout,  Cabo  Negro,  Guad 
al  Gelu,  and  Campamento  in  1860  that  he  was  made  mar- 
quis  de  los  Castillejos  and  a  grandee  of  Spain.  He  next 
commanded  the  Spanish  expeditionary  army  in  Jle-vico, 
when  he  acted  in  exact  accordance  with  the  treaty  of 
London  and  refused  to  consent  to  the  ambitious  schemes 
of  Napoleon  III.  On  his  return  to  Spain  he  joined  the 
opposition,  heading  pronunciamentos  in  Catalonia  against 
Narvaez  and  O'Donnell.  All  his  attempts  failed  until  the 
death  of  Narvaez  in  April  1868,  after  which  Queen  Isa- 
bella fell  more  and  more  under  the  influence  of  the  Jesuits, 
and  became  increasingly  tyrannical,  until  at  last  even 
Serrano  was  exiled,  and  more  than  10,000  persons,  includ 


I 


P  R  I  — P  R  I 


733 


ing  every  journalist  of  position,  were  in  prison.  In  Sep- 
tember 18G8  Serrano  und  Prim  returned,  and  Admiral 
Popete,  commanding  the  3eet,  raised  the  standard  of  revolt 
at  Cadiz.  For  the  pub'ic  events  of  the  subsequent  ten 
months  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  article  Spaik,  In 
July  1869  Serrano  ■was  elected  regent,  and  Prim  became 
president  of  the  council  md  was  made  a  marshal.  On 
16th  November  1870  Amadeo,  duke  of  Aosta,  was  elected 
king  of  Spain,  but  Prim  was  not  destined  to  receive  the 
new  monarch,  for  on  leaving  the  chamber  of  the  cortes  on 
28th  December  he  was  shot  by  unknown  assassins  and 
died  two  days  later.  Th&  cortes  at  onco  declared  that 
he  had  deserved  well  of  hvs  native  land,  and  took  his 
children  as  wards  of  the  country ;  three  days  afterwards 
King  Amadeo  I.  swore  in  the  presence  of  the  corpse  to 
observe  the  new  Spanish  constitution. 

Two  biographies  of  Prim  down  to  1860  were  published  in  that 
year  by  Gimenez  y  Guited  and  Gonzalez  Llanos  ;  see  also  L.  Blairet, 
Le  Qiniral  Prim  et  la  situation  actuellc  de  l'£spagne,  Paris,  1867, 
and  GiiiUaumot,  Juan  Prim  et  I'Espagru,  Paris,  1870. 

PRIMATE  (primas,  i.e.,  primus),  a  title  more  than  once 
bestowed  in  the  Codex  Theodosianui  on  various  civil  func- 
tionaries, came  about  the  beginning  of  the  4th  century  to 
be  used  also,  especially  in  Africa,  as  a  designation  of  the 
"primae  sedis  episcopus."  In  the  canon  law  the  word 
"  primate  "  is  regarded  as  essentiaOy  the  Western  equiva- 
lent of  J.he  Eastern  "patriarch."  See  Aechbishop  and 
Patriakch. 

.PRIMOGENITURE.  The  term  "primogeniture"  is 
used  to  signify  the  preference  in  inheritance  which  is  given 
by  law,  custom,  or  usage  to  the  eldest  son  and  his  issue, 
or  in  exceptional  cases  to  the  line  of  the  eldest  daughter. 
The  practice  prevailed  under  the  feudal  codes  throughout 
all  the  Western  countries.  It  is  now  almost  entirely  con- 
fined to  the  United  Kingdom,  having  been  abolished  (ex- 
cept in  the  succession  to  the  crown)  by  the  various  civil 
codes  which  have  superseded  feudalism  on  the  Continent, 
and  having  been  universally  rejected  in  the  United  States 
of  America  as  being  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  their  institu- 
tions. The  system  has  of  late  years  been  persistently 
attacked  in  Great  Britain,  chiefly  on  the  ground  of  hard- 
ship in  cases  of  intestacy  where  the  property  is  small ;  but 
the  rule  was  found  to  operate  so  successfully  in  former 
limes  towards  keeping  large  properties  together  that  it 
seems  likely  to  be  still  maintained  by  law ;  and  even  if 
abolished  as  a  rule  of  law  it  would  most  probably  be  main- 
tained in  full  vigour  as  a' habit  or  rule  of  practice. 

In  dealing  with  the  whole  subject  it  will  be  convenient 
to  state  in  the  first  place  the  nature  of  the  rules  of  primo- 
geniture as  they  now  exist  in  England,  with  some  notice 
of  the  exceptional  usages  which  illustrate  the  meaning 
and  origin  of  the  system,  and  in  the  second  place  to  give 
an  account  of  those  archaic  customs  in  which  wo  may  find 
the  actual  origin  of  primogeniture  before  it  was  altered 
and  extended  by  the  policy  of  the  feudal  sovereigns,  and 
by  traditional  usages  which  governed  their  succession  to 
the  throne.  The  English  law  provides  that  in  ordinary 
cases  of  inheritance  to  land  the  rule  of  primogeniture  shall 
prevail  among  the  male  children  of  the  person  from  whom 
descent  is  to  be  traced,  but  not  among  the  females ;  and 
this  principle  is  applied  throughout  all  the  degrees  of 
relationship.  There  are  exceptions  to  this  rule  in  the 
gavelkind  lands  of  Kent,  where  all  the  males  take  equally 
in  each  degree,  in  the  burgage  teneinents  of  certain  ancient 
bort>ughs,  where  the  descent  is  to  the  youngest  son  under 
the  custom  called  "  borough-English,"  and  in  tho  copyhold 
lands  of  a  great  number  of  manors,  where  customs  analogous 
to  those  of  gavelkind  and  borojgh-English  have  existed 
from  time  immemorial.  In  another  class  of  exceptions 
the  rule  of  primogeniture  is  applied  to  the  inheritance  of 


females,  who  usually  take  equal  shares  in  each  degree. 
The  necessity  for  a  sole  succession  has,  for  example,  intro- 
duced succession  by  primogeniture  among  females  in  tho 
case  of  the  inheritance  of  the  crown,  and  a  similar  necessity 
led  to  the  maxim  of  the  feudal  law  that  certain  dignities 
and  offices,  castles  required  for  the  defence  of  the  realm, 
and  other  inheritances  under  "the  law  of  the  sword "^ 
should  not  be  divided;  but  should  go  to  the  eldest  of  the 
co-heiresses  (Bracton,  DeLcgibus,  ii.  c.  76;  Co.  Litt.,  165a). 
In  the  case  of  dignities  the  rule  of  sole  succession  is  adopted 
without  reference  to  the  right  of  primogeniture,  the  dignity 
lying  in  abeyance  until  the  line  of  a  particular  co-heires3 
is  selected  by  the  sovereign  as  "  the  fountain  of  honour." 
Another  exceptional  usage  gives  a  preference  to  the  line 
of  the  eldest  daughter  in  the  inheritance  of  customary 
holdings  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  in  various  lordships  in  Cumber- 
land, Westmoreland,  and  Durham,  as  well  as  in  isolated 
manors  in  Surrey  and  Sussex,  and  in  other  parts  of  the 
southern  and  midland  counties.  At  Tynemouth  in  North- 
umberland it  was  the  custom  that  the  eldest  daughter 
surviving  her  parents  should  inherit  her  father's  estate 
for  her  life,  and  in  some  of  the  southern  manors  already 
mentioned  the  rule  of  primogeniture  among  females  is  not 
confined  to  daughters  but  is  extended  to  the  eldest  sistei 
or  aunt,  or  even  to  female  relations  in  more  remote  degreea. 
There  are  many  other  special  customs  by  which  the  ordi- 
nary rules  of  descent  are  varied  according  to  manorial  usage, 
as  that  the  youngest  son  shall  inherit  if  the  father  dies 
seised,  but  otherwise  the  eldest,  or  that  fee-simple  ahall 
go  to  the  youngest  and  entailed  land  to  the  eldest,  or  that 
the  special  .custom  shall  only  affect  lands  of  a  certain  value 
(as  is  said  to  be  the  usage  in  several  manors  near  London),, 
or  that  male  and  female  issue  should  share  together  (as 
formerly  was  the  practice  at  Wareham  and  Exeter  and  in 
certain  other  ancient  boroughs,  as  well  as  in  some  of  the 
copyholds  belonging  to  the  see  of  Worcester),  or  that  the 
eldest  or  the  youngest  should  be  preferred  among  the 
daughters  in  the  claim  to  a  renewal  of  a  customary  estate 
for  lives,  with  other  analogous  variations. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  English  law  of  inheritance 
creates  a  double  preference,  subject  to  the  ■  exceptions 
already  mentioned,  in  favour  of  the  male  over  the  female 
and  of  the  firstborn  among  the  males.  This  necessitates 
the  rule  of  representation  by  which  the  issue  of  childreu 
are  regarded  as  standing  in  the  places  of  their  parents. 
This  is  called  "representative  primogeniture."  The  rule 
appears  to  have  been  firmly  established  in  England  during 
the  reign  of  Henry  III.,  though  its  application  was  favoured 
as  early  as  the  12th  century  throughout  the  numerous  con- 
tests between  brothers  claiming  by  proximity  of  blood  and 
their  nephews  claiming  by  representation,  as  in  the  case 
of  King  John  and  his  nephew  Prince  Arthur  (Glanville, 
vii.  c.  3 ;  Bracton,  De  Legibus,  ii.  c.  30).  We  must  now 
describe  some  of  those  ancient  usages  in  which  the  origio 
of  primogeniture  is  to  bo  sought. 

In  addition  to  the  rule  of  eldership  as  applied  to  inherit- 
ances of  land  there  are  traces  of  a  multitude  of  customs 
which  applied  a  similar  rule  to  certain  classes  of  "prin- 
cipals "  or  heirlooms,  such  as  the  best  bed  or  piece  of  fur- 
niture, or  horse  and  cart,  and  the  like,  which  descended 
to  tho  eldest  son  ;  and  by  a  similar  rule  of  the  common 
law  the  ancient  jewels  of  the  crown  are  heirlooms  which 
descend  to  tho  successor  according  to  tho  rule  of  primo- 
geniture. In  the  district  of  Archcnficld  near  tho  Welsht 
border  tho  house  and  lands  were  divided  between  the 
sons  on  their  father's  death,  but  certain  "principals"  passed 
to  the  eldest  as  heirlooms,  such  as  tho  best  table  and  bed, 
"all  which  the  men  of  Archenficld  retained  as  derived  to 
them  from  great  antiquity,  even  before  the  Norman  Con 
quest "  (Quo  Warranto  Roll,  20  Edw.  L.  "  Irchinfield '.' 


734 


P  RIMOGENITURE 


A  similar  usage  existed  in  some  of  the  lands  in  Sussex 
belonging  to  Battle  Abbey ;  and  by  the  custom  of  the 
hundred  of  Stretford  in  Herefordshire  the  eldest  son  was 
entitled  to  keep  the  best  article  of  every  kind  of  chattel,  as 
the  best  of  the  chests  and  cups,  or  the  best  table  and  chair 
(Co.  Litt.,  18b).  This  right  resembles  in  many  respects 
the  privilege  of  the  youngest  co-heir  to  take  the  hearth- 
place  or  covert  del  astre,  which  formerly  prevailed  in  the 
gavelkind  lands  of  Kent  according  to  the  Kentish  custuinal, 
and  privileges  of  the  same  kind  which  were  customary  in 
the  district  round  Amiens  and  in  many  parts  of  Flanders 
under  the  tenures  called  "  mainet6,"  "  qu6vaise,"  and 
"madelstad"  (Bouthors,  "  Coutdmes  Locales  du  Bailliage 
d' Amiens,"  Cmit.  Gen.,  i.  699,  ii.  901).  ■  This  exceptional 
law  does  not  seem  to, have  prevailed  in  Scotland  or  L-e- 
land ;  but  in  the  Shetland  Islands  it  appears-  to  have  been 
the  custom,  as  also  in  several  of  the  Continental  instances, 
that  the  youngest  child  of  either  sex  should  have  the  house 
when  the  property  came  to  division.  Similar  benefits  were 
reserved  to  the  youngest  son  by  the  Welsh  laws,  which 
provided  that  when  brothers,  divided  a  patrimony  contain- 
ing a  habitation  "  the  youngest  should  have  the  principal 
messuage  and  all  the  buildings  and  eight  acres  of  land, 
and  the  hatchet,  the  boiler,  and  the  ploughshare,"  and  a 
preference  of  the  same  kind  prevailed  in  some  parts  of 
Devon  and  Cornwall  and  in  very  extensive  lordships  in 
Brittany.  Traces  of  the  same  or  analogous  usages  may 
be  found  in  many  parts  of  Germany,  Switzerland,  Kussia, 
Hungary,  and  other  countries.^ 

The  custom  of  giving  a  preferential  birthright  to  the 
eldest  son  or  child  did  not  prevail  so  extensively  in  ancient 
times,  though  it  was  known  in  some  parts  of  Germany  as 
well  as  in  France,  where  it  is  called  "  le  pr^ciput."  The 
eldest  son  or  eldest  child  got  the  house  and  a  piece  of  fur- 
niture and  a  plot  of  land  "as  far  as  a  chicken  could  fly," 
as  being  traditionally  exempt  from  the  general  partition. 
In  the  Ordinances  of  St  Louis  we  find  a  rule  that  a  gen- 
tleman having  daughters  only  should  divide  the  rest  of 
his  property  equally  among  them,  "  mais  I'ainde  outre  sa 
portion  aura  la  maison  paternelle  et  le  vol  du  chapon." 

Instances  of  this  kind  are  found  among  the  rural  custonis 
of  England  and  Normandy,  which  serve  to  indicate  the 
source  of  one  part  at  least  of  the  English  system  of  primo- 
geniture. The  rights  of  the  eldest,  however,  have  been 
coUected  from  many  quarters.  Sir  Henry  Maine  has  traced 
the  modern  form  of  this  system  to  the  growth  of  the  power 
of  the  chieftain  and  its  development  in  feudal  times.  The 
mediaeval  jurists  are  responsible  for  many  exaggerations 
of  the  principle  of  sole  succession  to  rights  of  dominion. 
But  it  is  at  any  rate  important  to  observe  that  there  were 
Teutonic  customs  giving  a  benefit  of  eldership  before  the 
feudal  system  was  invented,  which  appear  to  have  much 
less  connexion  with  the  power  of  the  patriarch  or  chieftain 
than  with  the  sentiment  that  gave  the  father's  house  to 
the  eldest  son  under  the  Athenian  law  or  secured  to  him 
a  larger  set  of  rights  under  the  Laws  of.Manu  (Demosth., 
Pro  Phorm.,  34;  Coulanges,  Cite  Antique,  c.  6).  It  should 
also  be  remembered  that  at  least  one  tribe  of  Germans 
was  accustomed  in  the  days  of  Tacitus  to  allow  the  father's 
war-horse  to  descend  as  an  heirloom  or  "principal"  to 
the  eldest  son  {Germ.,  cc.  18,  20,  32),  and  that  the  strict 
rule  of  primogeniture  appears  to  have  existed  in  Scandi- 
navia from  the  most  ancient  times.  To  the  English  in- 
stances already  mentioned  may  be  added  a  passage  from 
Bede's  life  of  St  Benedict  which  shows  that  some  sub- 
stantial birthright  was  reserved  in  his  time  for  the  eldest 
son,  when  a  patrimony  had  to  be  divided  according  to  the 

•  *  Reports  on  Tenure  of  Land,  1869  ;  Grimm,  Deutsche  Alterthiim., 
475  ;  Wenckebach,  Jus  Theelaciieum  Redivivum,  1759 ;  Kbvy,  Summ. 
fvnt  Mungaricit  351 ;  Uesokbvesel,  Les  Bachkirs,  &c.,  iii.  81. 


Northumbrian  laws,  "Qtfomodo  terreni  parentes,  quem 
primum  fuderint,  eum  principium  liberorum  suorum  cog- 
noscere  et  cseteris  prseferendum  ducere  solent"  (Bede, 
Vif.  Bened.,  s.  11).  This  may  refer  to  some  system  of 
double  portions,  like  the  Jewish  rule  as  to  "  birthright " 
(Deut.  xxi.  15, 16),  or  it  may  denote  a  preference  in  parti- 
tion which  secured  the  dwelling-house  or  principal  chattels 
to  "  the  first-fruits  of  the  family."  A  passage  from  Glan- 
ville,  which  is  applicable  to  England  and  Scotland  in  the 
12th  century,  shows  that  in  the  case  of  a  rustic  holding 
the  custom  of  the  district  determined  whether  it  should  be 
divided  among  all  the  sons  or  reserved  for'  the  eldest  or 
youngest.  "  If  he  were  a  free  sokeman,  the  inheritance  in 
that  case  will  be  divided  among  all  the  sons  according  to 
their  number  in  equal  shares,  if  the  holding  was  partible 
by  cncient  custom,  the  chief  messuage  being,  however, 
reserved  for  the  first-born  son  in  honour  of  his  seniority, 
but  on  the  terms  of  his  making  compensation  to  his  brothers 
from  the  rest  of  his  property.  But  if  it  was  not  anciently 
partible,  then  by  the  custom  of  some  places  the  first-bom 
son  will  take  the  whole  inheritance,  but  by  other  customs 
the  youngest  son  is  the  heir "  (Glanville,  vii.  c.  3).  In 
the  time  of  Bracton,  a  century  later,  the  presumption  that 
primogeniture  was  an  exceptional  rule  had  been  reversed, 
and  special  proof  was  required  in  freehold  lands  of  a  custom 
to  exclude  the  eldest.  He  still  speaks,  however,  of  customs 
in  favour  of  the  eldest  or  youngest  son  in  the  case  of  the 
"  villein-socage  "  holdings,  which  afterwards  developed  into 
copyholds.  "  When  a  free  sokeman  dies  leaving  several 
heirs  to  share,  if  the  inheritance  is  partible  from  ancient 
times,  they  shall  all  have  their  equal  shares ;  and  if  there 
is  only  one  messuage  that  shall  remain  entire  for  the  eldest, 
but  so  that  the  others  shall  have  up  to  its  value  out  of  the 
common  stock.  But  if  the  inheritance  has  not  been  divided 
from  ancient  times  then  it  shall  remain  to  the  eldest.  But 
if  it  be  villein-socage  then  the  custom  of  the  place  is  to  be 
observed,  for  it  is  the  usage  in  some  parts  for  the  youngest 
to  be  preferred  to  the  eldest,  or  the  contrary  "  {De  Leg.,  iL  c. 
76).  The  ancient  rule  of  inheritance  among  socage  tenants 
in  Scotland  was  the  same  as  that  described  .by  Glanville. 

These  customs  of  "rural  primogeniture"  can  be  traced, 
as  we  have  seen,  in  some  parts  of  the  Continent,  but  their 
existence  is  rarely  to  be  distinguished  where  the  influence 
of  the  Koman  law  prevailed  in  the  barbarian  kingdoms,  as 
in  Italy,  Spain,  and  Provence.  In  Normandy  and  Picardy, 
however,  these  usages  long  remained  in'  an  exceptionally 
vigorous  form, — a  fact  which  may  be  due  to  the  Scandi- 
navian origin  of  the  Normans,  or  perhaps,  as  Eichebourg 
suggested  in  his  note  on  the  CoutUme  de  Caux,  the  custom 
may  have  lasted  down  as  a  tradition  from  Gaulish  tijnes. 
The  laws,  of  the  Channel  Islands  still  preserve  a  special 
benefit  for  the  eldest  son ;  but  the  CoutHmier  General 
afibrds  several  examples  of  a  more  ample  birthright  which 
can  hardly  be  attributed  to  any  feudal  influence.  By  the 
.custom  of  Normandy  "  the  eldest  son  in  right"  of  his  elder- 
ship might  take  and  choose  as  a  preciput  such  fief  or  terrt  • 
noble  as  he  pleased ;  and  if  there  were  but  one  manoir 
roturier  on  the  land  the  eldest  before  the  division  might 
declare  that  he  retained  it  with  court  and  garden,  making 
recompense  to  his  younger  brothers"  {CovtAme  de  Nor- 
mandie,  337,  356).  "L'aisn6  faisant  partage  .  .  .  peut 
retenir  par  pr^cipu  le  lieu  chevels  .  .■  .  anciennement 
appel6  h^bergement,  soit  en  ville  ou  en  champs,  de  quelque 
estendue  qu'il  soit "  ("Usage  de  Bayeux,"  Cov,t.  Gen'.,  iv. 
77,  78,  94).  The  usage  of  the  district  of  Caux,  on  the 
frontier  of  Picardy,  was  even  more  favourable  to  the  eldest 
son :  "  Demeurant  le  manoir  et  pourpris  en  son  integrity 
au  profit  de  I'aisnd  sans  qu'il  en  puisse  itre  dispose  &  son 
prejudice,  ny  qu'il  soit  tenu  en  faire  recompense  ausdits 
puisnds"  ("Succ,  Bailliage  de  Caux,"  ibid.,  74), 


PRIMOGENITURE 


735 


Tliis  last  instance  appears  to  give  us  a  clue  to  the  origin 
of  the  strict  English  primogeniture  as  applied  to  the  rustic 
holdings,  sometimes  called  fitfs  de  roturier  or  "plough- 
man's fee,"  which  in  most  parts  of  the  Continent,  as  in 
almost  every  district  in  England  before  the  Norman  Con- 
quest, descended  to  all  the  sons  in  equal  shares,  with  some 
customary  privilege  or  birthright  in  favour  of  the  eldest  or 
youngest  son.  The  strict  rule  of  the  custom  of  Caux  was 
deliberately  applied  by  the  Norman  kings  of  England  not 
only  to  military  fiefs  but  also  (wherever  it  was  possible) 
to  agricultural  tenancies.  This  was  effected  partly  by 
reversing  the  presumption  of  partibility,  as  shown  by  the 
passage  from  Bracton  cited  above,  and  partly  by  direct 
enactments  of  the  king  or  of  his  greater  tenants,  who 
assumed  or  received  the  prerogative  of  abolishing  incon- 
venient modes  of  inheritance.  The  urban  customs  of  the 
"French"  portions  of  Hereford  and  Nottingham  appear 
to  have  been  altered  in  this  way.  (See  Municipality.) 
Simon  de  Montfort,  by  his  charter  in  1255,  granted  to  the 
burgesses  of  Leicester  that  the  eldest  son  should  be  his 
father's  heir  instead  of  the  youngest ;  and  an  analogous 
>right  was  exercised  under  the  name  of  "disgavelling"  by 
the  archbishop  of  Canterbury  in  Kent.  About  the  reign 
of  Edward  II.  the  idea  first  began  to  prevail  that  such 
alterations  of  descent  could  not  be  carried  out  without  the 
consent  of  parliament,  and  it  was  eventually  held  that 
even  the  king  had  no  such  prerogative  (Robinson,  Gavel- 
kind, i.  c.  5).  The  earlier  view  is  very  clearly  stated  in  a 
charter  by  which  Edward  I.  disgavelled  certain  lands  of 
John  de  Cobham  (Charter  Rolls,  4  Edw.  I.,  No.  17). 
The  most  important  clauses  of  this  document  were  in 
eflfect  as  follows  : — 

"  It  pertains  to  our  prerogative  to  abolish  such  la%>'s  and  customs 
23  diminish  instead  of  increasing  the  strength  of  the  kingdom,  or 
at  least  to  change  them  by  our  special  favour  in  the  case  of  our 
deserving  and  faitliful  followers  ;  and  since  it  has  often  happened 
by  the  Kcntisli  custom  that  lands,  which  when  undivided  in  certain 
hands  aie  quite  sufiicient  for  the  service  of  the  state  and  the 
maintenance  of  many,  are  afterwards  divided  and  broken  up  among 
co-heirs  into  so  many  parts  and  particles  that  no  one  portion 
suffices  even  for  its  owner's  maintenance,  we  therefore  grant  to  J. 
de  Cobham  that  all  the  gavelkind  lands  and  tenements  which  ho 
now  holds  in  fee  simple  shall  descend  to  his  eldest  son  or  other 
heir  at  common  law  in  the  same  way  as  his  estates  held  by  serjeanty 
or  knight-service.'' 

A  similar  change  of  tenure  was  effected  by  Acts  of 
parliament  for  many  estates  in  Kent  in  11  Hen.  VII.,  15 
Hen.  VIII.,  31  Hen.  Vlfl.,  2  and  3  Edw.  VI.,  1  Eliz.,  8 
Eliz.,  and  21  James  I.,  and  primogeniture  was  introduced 
in  the  same  way  into  the  soke  of  Oswaldbeck  in  Notting- 
hamshire in  32  Hen.  VIII.  and  into  the  city  of  Exeter 
by  the  Act  of  23  Eliz.  c.  12.  The  customary  descent  of 
copyhold  lands  (where  primogeniture  had  not  been  estab- 
lished in  ancient  times  by  the  ordinances  of  the  lords  or 
by  an  application  of  the  current  presumption)  has  been 
dianged  in  a  great  number  of  cases  by  other  private  Acts 
of  parliament  or  has  been  destroyed  by  enfranchisement. 
The  Welsh  custom  of  partition  was  altered  in  some  respects, 
especially  by  forbidding  the  inheritance  of  bastards,  by 
the  Statitc  of  Wales  passed  in  the  12th  year  of  Edward 
I. ;  the  custom  as  modified  was  confirmed  when  the  prin- 
cipality was  united  in  27  Hen.  VIII.  to  the  kingdom  of 
England,  but  it  was  soon  afterwards  enacted  by  the  Act 
34  and  35  Hen.  VIII.  c.  26  that  freehold  lands  in  Wales 
should  thenceforth  bo  "  holden  as  English  tenure  to  all 
intents  according  to  the  common  laws  of  this  realm  of 
England,  and  not  bo  partible  amongst  heirs-male  after  the 
custom  of  gavelkind  as  heretofore  in  divers  parts  of  Wales 
was  used  and  accustomed."  The  change  in  the  Irish 
customs  was  carried  out  in  a  different  way.  There  is 
evidence  that  before  the  adoption  of  tlie  Engli.sh  law  several 
systems  of  customary  inheritance  were  known  in  Ireland. 


Besides  the  law  of  tanistry,  which  will  be  described  after- 
wards, there  are  indications  in  the  Brehon  tracts  not  only 
of  arrangements  in  favour  of  the  youngest  branch,  such  as 
have  been  already  mentioned,  but  also  of  a  preference  in 
some  cases  for  the  eldest  son,  "  the  cattle  and  land  being 
equally  divided,  but  the  house  and  offices  going  in  addition 
to  his  own  share  to  the  eldest  son"  (Hearn.  Aryan  Moust- 
hold,  80,  82;  O'Curry,  Lectures,  ckxix.).  Besides  these 
cases  we  have  the  record  of  that  system  of  "  Irish  gavel- 
kind "  which  was  described  by  Spenser  and  Davis,  and 
which  has  been  shown  by  Sir  H.  S.  Maine  to  be  closely 
connected  with  very  early  Aryan  institutions  still  surviving 
in  practice  among  the  Hindus. 

"The  lands  in  that  kingdom  possessed  by  the  mere  Irish  were 
divided  into  several  territories  or  countries,  and  the  inhabitants  of 
every  Irish  '  country '  were  divided  into  several  septs  .or  lineages, 
in  every  one  of  which  there  was  a  chief  called  Canjinny  or  *  caput 
cognalionis,'  and  all  the  inferior  tenancies  in  these  territories  were 
partible  among  the  males  in  gavelkind  ;  but  the  estate  which  these 
inferior  tenants  had  was  not  an  estate  of  inheritance,  but  a  tempo- 
rary or  transitory  possession,  for  these  lands  were  not  partible  among 
the  neirt  heirs  of  him  that  died,  but  among  all  the  males  of  this 
sept  or  clan  in  this  manner  :  the  Canjinny  (who  was  generally  the 
oldest  man  in  the  sept)  made  all  these  partitions  according  to  his 
discretion.  This  Canjinny,  after  the  death  of  every  one  who  had 
a  competent  portion  of  land,  assembled  all  the  sept  and  having  put 
all  their  possessions  into  hotchpot  made  a  new  partition  of  the 
whole  ;  in  which  partition  ...  he  allotted  to  every  one  of  the  sept 
according  to  his  age  a  better  or  larger  part "  (Robinson,  Gavelkind, 
i.  c.  2  ;  Davis's  Reports,  37,  "Case  of  Tanistry  "). 

This  is  obviously  the  description  of  a  joint  family  similar 
to  those  which  have  been  found  in  the  Scottish  Highlands, 
in  France,  in  the  Slavonic  countries,  and  in  India,  and,  as  it 
would  seem,  the  various  modes  and  periods  of  redistributing 
such  joint  possessions  are  merely  matters  of  detail  and 
convenience.  It  would  be  of  greater  importance  to  our 
subject  to  know  whether  any  special  property  was  reserved 
for  one  of  the  dead  man's  sons,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Frisian 
"theel-lands."  It  was  resolved  in  the  great  case  of 
tanistry  in  the  third  year  of  James  I.  that  this  Irish 
"  custom  of  gavelkind  "  was  void  in  law  as  being  unreason- 
able and  as  being  "a  mere  personal  custom  "  not  binding 
the  descent  of  the  inheritance,  "  and  therefore  all  the  lands 
in  these  Irish  territories  were  adjudged  to  be  descendible 
according  to  the  course  of  the  common  law,  notwithstanding 
the  Irish  usage."  By  one  of  the  penal  statutes  against 
Roman  Catholics  in  Ireland  (2  Anne  c.  6),  the  usage  of 
partibility  was  to  some  extent  revived,  it  being  enacted 
that  the  lands  of  Roman  Catholics  should  bo  divided 
among  all  the  sons  "as  in  gavelkind,"  unless  the  heir 
should  be  a  Protestant;  but  this  harsh  law  was  fortunately 
repealed  by  the  Irish  Act  of  18  Geo.  III.  c.  49. 

The  remote  origin  of  all  these  ancient  forms  of  primo- 
geniture may  probably  be  traced  to  a  system  of  family 
religion  that  prevailed  among  the  tribes  from  which  the 
Aryan  nations  have  descended.  We  arc  told  in  the  Lawi 
of  Manu  that  the  eldest  son  had  his  very  being  for  the 
purpose  of  accomplishing  the  rites  of  the  family  religion, 
of  offering  the  funeral  cake,  and  of  providing  the  repasts 
for  the  spirits  of  the  dead  ancestors.  "The  right  of  pro- 
nouncing the  prayers  belongs  to  him  who  came  into  the 
world  the  first.  A  man  must  regard  his  elder  brother  as 
equal  to  his  father.  By  the  eldest  at  the  moment  of  his 
birth  the  father  discharges  his  debt  to  his  own  progenitors; 
the  eldest  son  ought  therefore  before  partition  to  manage 
the  whole  of  the  \taXi:\mox\y"  {Laws  of  Af ami,  ix.  105,  126; 
Coulangcs,  La  Cite  Antique,  c.  6,  "I.a  Droit  d'Alnesse"). 
This  view  seems  to  account  for  the  widespread  usage  that 
the  eldest  son  should  keep  the  house,  or  hearthplacc,  or 
the  parents'  furniture  as  part  of  his  share  of  the  inheritance. 
It  is  said  that  among  the  Hindus  the  right  to  inherit  a 
dead  man's  property  is  exactly  coextensive  'with  the  duty 
of  performing  his  obsequies,  and  we  arc  told  that  in  ancient 


736 


PRIMOGENITURE 


Rome  an  inneritance  could  not  be  distributed  under  a  will 
"  without  a  strict  apportionment  of  the  expenses  of  these 
ceremonies  among  the  different  co-heirs"  (Maine,  Anc.  Law, 
191).     Some  support  is  also  given  to  this  theory  by  the 
custom  which  is  said  to  have  prevailed  in  Norway  by 
which  particular  lands  were  set  apart  for  funeral  expenses, 
and  if  a  man  had  no  kinsman  to  give  him  proper  burial 
he  might  leave  his  property  as  "  brande-erbe  "  or  '^  biuning- 
land"  as  an  endowment  for  burial,  and  the  friend  who 
accepted  the  duty  was  allowed  to  keep  the  property  as 
"  odal  land  "  or  privileged  family  inheritance  (Robertson, 
Early  Kings,  ii.  323).    Numerous  other  illustrations  might 
be  given  from  the  analogous  ciistoms  in  which  the  youngest 
son  is  preferred.     There  seems  to  be  no  reason  why  the 
eldest  should  be  preferred  by  one  nation  and  the  youngest 
by  another ;  but  something  may  perhaps  be  due  to  the  acci- 
dent that  the  one  set  of  tribes  was  civilized  enough  to  have 
fixed  family  habitations,  and  the  other  may  have  lived  in  a 
nomad  fashion,  so  that  the  youngest  would  be  most  likely 
to  remain  in  the  parents'  tent  and  to  be  ready  to  perform 
the  duties  of  the  hearthplace.     Sir  Henry  Maine  draws  a 
distinction  between  the  archaic  customs  of  the  tribe  and 
that  strict  form  of  primogeniture  which  he  has  traced  to 
the  power  of  the  chieftain.     Taking  primogeniture  in  the 
sense  of  an  exclusive  succession  of  the  eldest  son  to  pro- 
perty, he  finds  no  sign  of  its  existence  before  the  destruction 
of  the  Koman  empire  by  the  barbarians.     "Even  when 
the  Teutonic  races  spread  over  western  Europe  they  did 
not  bring  with  them  primogeniture  as  their  ordinary  rule 
of  succession."     He  considers  the  "  birthright "  given  to 
the  eldest  in  the  instances  which  have  been  mentioned  to 
be  in  the  nature  of  a  reward  or  a  security  for  impartial 
distribution  {Early Hist.  Inst,  197, 198).    "Primogeniture, 
as  we  know  it  in  our  law,  had  rather  a  political  than  a 
civil  origin,  and  comes  from  the  authority  of  the  feudal 
lord  and  probably  from  that  of  the  tribal  chief ;  but  here 
and  there  on  the  Continent  there  are  traces  of  it  as  a  civil 
institution,  and  in  such  cases  the  succession  of  the  eldest 
son  does  not  exclude  provision  for  the  younger  sons  by 
what  are  called  appanages.     The  evidence  of  ancient  law 
and  usage  would,  however,  seem  to  show  that  it  was  usually 
the  youngest  son  who  remained  at  home  with  his  father 
to  serve  him  through  life  and  succeed  to  his  remaining 
property  at  his  death  "  {Early  Law  and  Custom,  p.  260). 
As  regards  the  political  origin  of  a  great  part  of  the 
English  system  of  primogeniture  a  distinction  should  be 
made  between  royal  and  feudal  successions.     The  devolu- 
tion of  the  crown  in  European  countries  has  usually  been 
regulated  by  some  kind  of  primogeniture,  based  partly  on 
the  rules  which  have  governed  private  successions,  partly 
on  the  indivisible  character  of  the  empire  as  it  survived 
into  modern  times,  and  partly  again  on  that  "  law  of  the 
sword"  or  rule  of  public  policy  which  forbids  the  dis- 
integration of  the  state.     It  is  possible  also  that  the  Irish 
system  of  tanistry  contained  some  of  the  elements  of  this 
method  of  royal  succession.     The  custom  was  described  by 
Spenser  in  his  View  of  the  State  of  Ireland  shortly  before 
the  abolition  of  the  Brehon  law  in  the  reign  of  James  I. 
as  follows  :  "  It  is  a  custom  among  all  the  Irish  that,  pre- 
sently after  the  death   of  any  of  their  chief   lords  or 
captains,  they  do  presently  assemble  themselves  ...  to 
choose  another  in  his  stead,  where  they  do  nominate  and 
elect  for  the  most  part  not  the  eldest  son  nor  any  of  the 
children  of  the  lord  deceased,  but  the  next  to  him  of  blood 
that  is  eldest  and  worthiest,  as  commonly  the  next  brother, 
if  he  have  any,  or  the  next  cousin  and  so  forth,  as  any 
ia  elder  in  that  kindred  or  sept,  and  then  next  to  him 
they  choose  the  next  of  the  blood  to  be  tanaist,  who  shall 
succeed  him  in  the  said  captaincy  if  he  live  thereunto." 
This  system  may  be  described  as  the  election  of  an  elder 


to  be  head  of  the  sept  (like  the  analogous  election  ot  a 
patriarchal   "house -father"  in  a  joint  family),  with  an 
additional  choice  of  an  elder  in  reversion,  to  avoid  dis- 
putes as  to  succession  in  times  of  war.     A  similar  rule 
may  have  obtained  among  the  Teutonic  tribes  (Maine, 
Early  Hist.  Inst.,  202) ;  as  the  smaller  chiefs  sank  into 
the  position  of  nobles  and  were  succeeded  by  their  eldest 
sons  (for  reasons  connected  with  the  priestly  character  of 
the  king)  in  the  possession  of  their  offices  and  demesnes, 
a  rule  of  the  same  kind  might  grow  up  with  regard  to 
the  king  or  ruling  chieftain,  by  which  the  eldest  son  would 
get  not  only  his  private  demesne  but  also  that  "  portion 
of  land  attached  to  the  seignory  or  chiefry  which  went 
without  partition  to  the  tanaist."     In  this  way  a  prin- 
ciple of  inheritance  might  be  formed  "  which  first  of  all 
extended  from  the  demesne  to  all  the  estates  of  the  holder 
of  the  seignory,  however  acquired,  and  ultimately  deter- 
mined the  law  of  succession   for  the  privileged  classes 
throughout  feudalized  Europe "  {ibid.,  204,  208).      This 
part  of  the  subject  is  confessedly  very  obscure  ;  and  it  must 
not  be  forgotten  that  there  were  other  and  stranger  modes 
of  succession  to  chieftainships  in  Ireland  and  Scotland, 
which  appear  to  have  been  unconnected  with  any  such 
rules  of  primogeniture  (Girald.  Cambr.,  Top.  Hibem.,  iii. 
25  ;  Ware,  Ant.  Hib.,  iL  64  ;  Ailred's  Chron.,  ed.  Twysden, 
348  ;  Robertson,  Early  Kings,  i.  36).     Bede  has  left  us  a 
description  of  the  rule  among  the  Picts.     "It  was  the 
custom  in  Pictland,"  as  the  saying  went,  that  the  kingdom 
should  come  from  women  rather  than  from  men.     (Com- 
pare the  similar  customs  among   the  ancient  Spartans, 
Lycians,  and  Iberians  in  M'Lennan's  Studies,  101,  145.) 
The  dignity  never  went  from  father  to  son,  but  when  the 
king  died  the  crown  went  to  his  next  brother,  or  in  default 
to  his  sister's  son,  or  in  any  event  to  the  nearest  male 
relation  claiming  through  a  female  and  on  the  female  side. 
The  list  of  kings  contains  no  instance  of  a  son  bearing 
his  father's  name,  or  of  the  same  name  belonging  to  both 
father  and  mother ;  and  the  only  fathers  of  kings  of  whom 
any  account  has  survived  are  certainly  known  to  have  been 
foreigners,  the  one  being  a  prince  of  Strathclyde  and  the 
other  a  grandson  of  the  king  of  Northumbria.     One  and 
the  same  rule  of  primogeniture  has  been  applied  in  England 
to  royal  and  to  private  estates,  with  the  exception  as  to 
the  succession  of  the  eldest  daughter  which  has  already 
been  mentioned.     The  system  varied  greatly  in  the  Conti- 
nental countries  according  to  the  circumstances  of  each 
case.     In  France  the  crown  was  regarded  as  a  partible  in- 
heritance under  the  first  two  dynasties.    At  the  beginning 
aof  the  11th  century  primogeniture  had  become  the  rule  as 
to  fiefs,  offices,  and  dignities,  and  partly  no  doubt  from  ana- 
logy and  partly  for  reasons  of  public  policy  the  crown  was 
brought  within  the  same  rule  under  the  house  of  Oapet 
(Montesquieu,  Esprit  des  Lois,  xxxi.   32  ;  Kenny,  Law  of 
Primogeniture  in  England,  10).    But  in  this  case  there  was 
a  singular  modification,  known   as  the  "Salic  law"  or 
"  SaUc  rule  "  (as  if  it  had  been  derived  from  the  customs 
of  the  Salian  Franks),  by  which  the  succession  was  event- 
ually limited  to  males  claiming  through  males.    The  origin 
of  this  law  has  been  found  in  the  fact  that  "  the  kings 
sprung  from  Hugh  Capet  succeeded  one  another,  son  to 
father,  or  brother  to  brother,  for  more  than  300  years" 
previously  to  the  disputes  which  arose  in  the  14th  century 
as  to  the  succession  of  an  heir  claiming  through  a  female 
(Maine,  Early  Law  and  Custom,   154).  ,  The  rule  was 
adopted  because  it  corresponded  to  the  facts  which  had 
existed ;  it  was  extended  because  it  suited  the  circumstances 
of  those  states  in  ^hich  the  sovereign  had  a  large  authority; 
in  constitutional  countries  the  rule  has  been  considered  to  be 
against  public  policy,  partly  perhaps  because  the  reign  of  a 
female  sovereign  is  regarded  as  favourable  to  pop  ular  liberties. 


p  R  r  — p  R  I 


/37 


The  liistory  of  primogeniture  as  applied  to  leudai  suc- 
cession is  simijler  than  that  of  the  inheritance  of  the  crown. 
^\■llen  a  fief  was  regarded  not  strictly  as  an  estate  in  land 
but  rather  as  being  in  the  nature  of  an  office  there  was  at 
first  no  room  for  the  notion  of  its  descent  to  an  heir.  Held 
first  at  will  and  afterwards  for  short  fixed  periods,  the  fiefs 
or  benefices  came  gradually  to  be  regarded  as  inheritances. 
When  this  idea  was  first  established  the  fief  was  usually 
treated  as  being  partible  aiftong  all  the  sons,  and  it  was 
not  until  1138  that  Frederick  Barbarossa,  for  reasons  of 
public  policy,  forbade  the  greater  tenancies  to  be  sub- 
divided. The  Assises  de  Jentsaleiii  had  laid  down  the  same 
rule  in  1099,  though  the  king  was  then  allowed  to  select 
any  one  of  the  children  for  succession.  "In  Brittany, 
primogeniture  was  not  introduced  till  118.'),  even  for  nobles 
and  knights.  .  .  .  Down  to  the  French  Revolution  a 
German  baron  had  to  make  a  family  settlement  and  to  get 
the  consent  of  his  younger  sons,  if  he  wished  his  land  to 
descend  to  the  eldest  son  alone"  (Kenny,  11).  In  France 
the  eldest  son  began  to  gain  pre-eminence  in  the  division 
of  fiefs  about  the  beginning  of  the  11th  century,  and  the 
usage  spread  with  more  or  less  vigour  through  all  the 
Western  countries.  "  Usu  ad  omnia  feuda  serpsit,  ut  vel 
ex  asse  majori  cedant,  vel  major  pra^cipuum  aliquod  in  iis 
habeat"  (Zoesius,  cited  in  Co.  Litt.,  191a).  In  countries 
where  the  Roman  law  prevailed  the  privileges  of  the  eldest 
son  were  secured  by  a  legal  fiction,  the  jurists  deciding  that 
every  noble  was  a  "miles"  or  soldier  on  service  entitled  to 
exceptional  benefits.  In  Spain  the  inheritance  was  con- 
sidered to  be  divisible  into  fifteen  shares,  of  which  seven 
in  all  (being  one-fifth  of  the  whole  and  one-third  of  the 
residue,  known  as  the  customary  "  fifth  and  third  "  )  were 
within,  the  parent's  disposal  as  a  majoratir  ;  and  this  was 
usually  entailed  upon  the  eldest  son.  Similar  privileges 
by  way  of  majorat  have  been  given  to  particular  land- 
owners in  France  at  various  times'  since  the  abolition 
of  primogeniture  in  the  great  Revolution.  The  feudal 
primogeniture  of  England  was  firmly  established  in  the 
reigns  of  the  first  two  Norman  kings,  with  a  temporary 
provision  for  the  case  of  estates  lying  both  in  England  and 
Normandy,  in  which  the  Norman  estate  was  allotted  to 
the  eldest  son  and  the  English  estates  to  the  second.  Its 
origin,  as  we  have  seen,  is  to  be  found  partly  in  old  modes 
of  customary  inheritance  surviving  both  in  England  and 
in  Normandy,  but  mainly  in  the  deliberate  policy  of 
the  sovereigns,  who  wished  to  keep  the  military  estates 
together,  and  took  advantage  of  the  strictness  of  the 
"custom  of  Caux"  to  carry  out  the  objects  of  the  "law 
of  the  sword."  (c  i.  e. 

PRIMROSE.'  The  genus  Primula  contains  numerous 
species  distributed  throughout  the  cooler  parts  of  F.urope 
and  Asia,  and  found  also  on  the  mountain.''  of  Abyssinia 
and  Java.  They  are  all  herbaceous  perennials,  possessing 
a  pennanent  stock,  from  which  are  emitted  tufts  of  leaves 
and  flower-stems  which  die  down  in  winter;  the  now 
growths  formed  in  autumn  remain  in  a  bud-like  condition 
ready  to  develop  themselves  in  spring.  They  form  the 
typical  genus  of  Primulacex,  the  floral  conformation  of 
which  is  very  interesting  on  several  accounts  independently 
of  the  beauty  of  the  flowers.  Thus  the  five  stamens  spring- 
ing from  the  tube  of  the  corolla,  instead  of  being  placed 
alternately  with  or  between  its  lobes,  are  opposite  or  "super 
posed"  to  them,  an  arrangement  accounted  for  by  some  on 
the  supposition  that  an  outer  row  of  stamens  (which,  if 
present,  would  render  the  flower  symmetrical)  is  suppressed. 
In  sui^port  of  this  view  the  case  of  Samolus,  an  allied  genus 

'  Lat.  primula;  Hal.  und  Span,  priinavera;  Fr. pritnevire,  or  in 
9ome  provinces  primcrole.  Strangely  enoii^li,  the  word  was  applied, 
according  to  Dr  Prior,  in  tlio  Jliddle  Ages  to  the  doisy  {Bellis perenuis), 
the  i>rescut  usage  beiug  ofconiparatively  recent  origiu. 


iL  which  there  are  five  petaloid  stamens  as  well  as  five 
fertile  ones,  may  be  cited.  By  others  the  anomaly  is  ex- 
plained on  the  hypothesis  that  the  corolla  is  suppressed, 
what  appears  to  be  such  being  merely  an  outgrowth  from 
the  stamens.  But  this-  view  is  not  borne  out  by  observa- 
tion of  the  development  of  the  flower.  Within  the  base 
of  the  corolla  tube  is  the  one-celled  superior  ovary,  rising 
up  into  the  centre  of  which  is  a  dome -shaped  placenta, 
quite  detached  from  the  walls  of  the  ovary  and  studded 
with  ovules.  The  origin  and  explanation  of  this  free  central 
placenta  have  formed  the  subject  of  a  copious  literature,  the 
point  at  issue  being  whether  the  placenta  is  a  direct  pro- 
longation from  the  axis  of  the  plant  or  an  outgrowth  from 
the  walls  of  the  carpels.-  Tie  variation  in  the  length  of 
the  stamens  and  of  the  style  in  the  flowers  of  this  genus 
has  attracted  much  attention  since  Darwin  pointed  out  the 
true  significance  of  these  varied  arrangements.  Briefly  it 
may  be  said  that  some  of  the  flowers  have  short  stamens 
and  a  long  style,  while  others  have  long  stamens,  or  stamens 
inserted  so  high  up  that  the  anthers  protrude  beyond  the 
corolla  tube,  and  a  short  style.  Gardeners  and  florists  had 
for  centuries  been  familiar  with  these  variations,  calling 
the  flowers  from,  which  the  anthers  protruded  "thrum- 
eyed  "  and  those  in  which  the  stigma  appeared  in  the 
mouth  of  the  tube  "  pin-eyed."  Darwin  showed  by  ex- 
periment and  research  that  the  most  perfect  degree  of 
fertility,  as  shown  by  the  greatest  number  of  seeds  and  the 
healthiest  seedlings,  was  attained  when  the  pollen  from  a 
short^stamened  flower  was  transferred  to  the  stigma  of  a 
short-styled  flower,  or  when  the  pollen  from  the  long 
stamens  was  applied  to  the  long  style.  As  in  any  given 
flower  the  stamens  are  short  (or  low  down  in  the  flower- 
tube)  and  the  style  long,  or  conversely,  it  follows  that  to 
ensure  a  high  degree  of  fertility  cross  fertilization  must 
occur,  and  this  is  efi'ected  by  the  transfer  of  the  pollen 
from  one  flower  to  another  by  insects.  Incomplete  fertility 
arises  when  the  stigma  is  impregnated  by  the  pollen  from 
the  same  flower.  The  size  of  the  pollen -grains  and  the 
texture  of  the  stigma  are  different  in  the  two  forms  of 
flower.  The  discovery  of  the  physiological  significance  of 
these  variations  in  structure,  which  had  long  been  noticed, 
was  made  by  Darwin,  and  formed  the  first  of  a  series  of 
similar  observations  and  experiments  recorded  from  time 
to  time  in  the  Journal  of  the  Linnean  Society  and  elsewhere 
by  himself  and  subsequent  observers.  Among  British 
species  may  be  mentioned  the  Common  Primrose  (/'.  vul- 
garis); the  Cowslip  {P.  verts),  which  is  the  original  source 
of  the  Polyantlnis  of  the  gardens;  the  true  Oxlip  {P.  elatior), 
a  rare  plant  only  found  in  the  eastern  counties ;  and  the 
Common  Oxlip,  by  some  considered  to  be  a  form  of,  the 
Common  Primrose  but  provided  with  a  stem  supporting 
the  flowers.  Darwin's  experiments  go  to  prove  that  the 
first-named  three  are  species,  while  the  last-named  is  a 
hybrid  between  the  cowslip  and  the  primrose.  In  addition 
to  these  species  two  others  occur  in  Britain,  namely,  /'. 
farinosa,  found  in  Wales,  the  north  of  England,  and 
southern  Scotland,  and  P.  scotica,  which  occurs  in  Orkney 
and  Caithness.  These  two  species  are  found  also  in  high 
Arctic  latitudes,  and  P,  farinosa,  or  a  very  closely  allied 
form,  exists  in  Fuego. 

The  Auricula  of  the  gardens  was  formerly  considered  to  he  a  fonii 
of  P.  Auricula,  a  yellow -flowered  species,  a  native  of  tlio  Swi-ss 
mountains,  but  it  has  been  recently  shown  by  Kcrner  that  iu  all 
probability  the  oriRin  of  the  Auricula,  was  P.  pubescnui,  snp|)0sed 
to  be  a  natural  hybrid  between  P.  Auricula  and  P.  hirsula.  Tlw 
I'oli/anlhu.'i  has  already  been  mentioned  as  a  variety  of  the  cowslip, 
but  it  may  further  bo  added  that  some  very  remarkable  forms 
which  have  boon  cultivated  for  centuries  owe  their  peculiarities  to 

''  For  a  full  discussion  of  this  and  other  points  in  the  morphology 
of  the  flower,  the  reader  may  refer  to  Dr  Masters's  paper  in  the  Pro- 
cedings  of  the  Linn(an  Society,  2d  scr.,  vol.  i.  (1877)  p.  286,  or  to 
Eichler'a  BliUhcn-Diagramme, 

\IX.  -  93 


738 


je  R  ii—  p  R.  1 


the  assumiitiou  by  the  onliiiririly  gvocn  calyx  of  a  pctaloid  coii- 
ilition  ;  ^vUen  this  is  complete  we  have  the  coiulition  callcil  "hose 
in  hose "  by  tlie  garilcndis.  This  may,  however,  arise  fioin  actual 
iliililicatiou'  of  the  corolla  within  tlie  calyx.  The  Chinese  Primrose, 
now  so  much  ciiltivateil  in  £;arilens,  is  derived  from  P.  pnrnilcns. 
The  Japanese  Primrose  is  nearly  or  quite  hardy,  and  is  the  stateliest 
of  the  genus  ;  its  flowers  of  varied  colours  are  placed  tier  above  tier, 
like  the  branches  of  a  fir  tree.'  /*.  cortiisoidcs  is  anotlier  Japanese 
sjiecies  of  which  many  forms  arc  now  cultivated.  F.  simcnsis,  with 
mealy  leaves  and  yellow  llowers,  is  the  Abyssinian  Prinnose  of 
gardens.  The  Himalayas  are  rich  in  species  of  primrose,  often  very 
(litficult  of  determination  or  liiiutation,  certain  forms  being  peculiar 
to  particular  valleys.  Of  these  P.  dciilicnUila,  Slucniii,  sikkiin- 
mcnsis,  nivalis,  may  be  mentioned  as  freiiucntly  cultivated,  as  well 
as  the  lovely  rose-coloured  species  P.  rosca.^ 

PEINCE.  "  Prince  "  and  "  princess  "  are  names  or  de- 
scriptions implying  either  political  authority  or  social  rank 
in  the  per.sons  to  whom  they  relate  or  are  accorded.  We 
have  in  "  prince  "  the  English  and  French  form  of  the  Latin 
princej>s,  which  with  more  or  less  modification  has  been 
adopted  into  nearly  every  language  of  modern  Europe, 
and  of  which  the  original  and  common  use  was  to  indicate 
priority  or  pre-eminence  of  any  sort.  In  an  honorary 
sense  it  was,  to  begin  with,  applied  by  the  Romans  to  the 
first  or  most  distinguished  members  of  the  senate  and  the 
equestrian  order  respectively,  and  their  appellations  of 
princeps  senalns  and  princejts  jnveniiitis  were  afterwards 
appropriated  to  the  emperors  themselves  and  to  their 
adopted  heirs  and  successors  in  the  empire.  Hence  the 
attribute  prmce])s  became  definitely  associated  ^^•ith  the 
notions  of  sovereignty  and  dominion,  and  its  derivatives 
have  been  always  and  everywheVe  employed  as  titles  of 
dignity  and  expressions  of  awe  or  respect. 

In  English  the  word  "prince"  may  be  used  in  certain 
connexions  in  the  original  wide  sense  of  the  Latin  word. 
More  definitely  it  is  applicable  to  supreme  rulers  of  both 
sexes  and  almost  all  kinds.     Thus  the  emperor  of  Russia, 
the  queen  of  England,  and  the"  king  of  the  Belgians  are 
equally  princes  or  monarchs,  and  the  consorts  of  emperors 
and  kings  are  princesses.     But  the  presidents  of  republics 
are  neither  princes  nor  monarchs.     Prince,  however,  unlike 
monarch,  applies  to  rulers  who  are  subordinate  as  well  as 
to  rulers  who  are  supreme,  to  such  minor  potentates  as 
the  electors  of  the  old  German  empire  or  the  feudal  peers 
of  France  once  were,  and    the  reigning  grand -dukes  or 
dukes  of  Germany  now  are.     Again,  all  the  children  and 
many  of  the  descendants  and  other  relations  of  monarchs 
and  princes  of  every  class  and  grade  are  themselves  princes 
or  princesses,  although  it  often  happens  that  tliey  have 
also  some  special  name  or  personal  dignity  by  which  they 
are  ordinarily  known.     The  eldest  son  of  the  emperor  of 
Russia,  for  instance,  is   called   the  "  cesarewich,"  as  the 
eldest  son  and  next  brother  of  the  king  of  France  under  the 
ancien  regime  were  called  the  "  dauphin  "  and  "  monsieur." 
In  England  for  several  centuries  the  younger  sons  of  the 
sovereign  have  had  dukedoms  conferred  on  them,  as  in 
the   cases   of  the  dukes  of   Edinburgh,    Connaught,  and 
Albany,  and  from  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  until  the  reign 
of  Victoria  the  dukedom  of  Yc-k  was  always  given  to  the 
second  son  and  the  dukedom  of  Gloucester  to  the  third, 
unless   it  was   already   appropriated.      The   princes   and 
princesses    of    Russia    are    "grand-dukes"  and    "grand- 
duchesses,"  of  Austria  "  archditkes  "  and  "  archduchesses," 
md  of  Spain  "infants"  and  "infantas."     Some  of  the 
eldest  sons  of  kings  are  "dukes,"  as  the  duke  of  Brabant 
in  Belgium  and  the  duke  of  Sparta  in  Greece.     But,  when 
they  are  not  dukes,  or  princes  with  a  territorial  title,  as 
the  prince  of  Wales  or  the  princes  of  Naples  in -Italy  and 
Orange  in  Holland,  they  are  described  as  "princes"  with 
the  additions  of  "imperial,"  "crown,"  "royal,"  or  "here- 
ditary," as  the  case  may  be,  and  the  name  of  the  dominions 
to  which  tlioy  are  the  heirs-apparent.     The  eldest  sons 


01  reigning  grand -dukes  or  dukes,  however,  are  called 
"hereditary  grand-dukes"  or  "hereditary  dukes,"  their 
younger  brothers  and  their  sisters  being  all  the  same 
princes  and  princesses.  The  Prussian  fashion  of  call- 
ing the  eldest  daughter  of  the  sovereign  the  "  princess 
royal"  was  introduced  into  England  by  George  II.  ,It 
was  not  the  custom,  however,  for  the  daughters  of  English 
monarchs  to  be  entitled  "  princesses  "  at  all  until  the  reign 
of  Charles  I.  The  two  daughters  of  Henry  VIII.  were  the 
Lady  JIary  and  the  Lady  Elizabeth  until  they  ascended 
the  throne,  for,  although  there  is  a  tradition  tliat  they 
were  both  made  princess  of  Wales  successively,  there  is 
no  widence  whatever  to  support  It.  As  late  as  the  reign 
of  Charles  II.  the  granddaughters  of  Charles  I.,  daughters 
of  James,  duke  of  York,  the  heir-jircsumptive  to  the  crown, 
were  called  the  Lady  Mary  and  the  Lady  Anne  until  they 
became  princesses  by  marriage,  the  one  as  the  wife  of 
William,  ])rince  of  Orange,  and  the  other  as  tlie  wife  of 
Prince  George  of  Denmark.  It  is  difficult  to  say  when 
the  younger  sons  of  English  sovereigns  were  originally 
called  "  princes."  But  the  practice  of  so  calling  them  prob- 
ably began  as  early  as  the  reign  of  Honry  VIL,  although 
there  was  no  opportunity  of  observing  it  again  before  the 
reign  of  James  I.,  when  it  was  certainly  established. 

In  France  before  the  Revolution  the  designation  of 
"  princes  du  sang,  or  "  princes  of  the  blood,"  was  common 
from  generation  to  generation  to  all  tlie  male  descendants 
of  the  French  kings,  and  they  had  precedence  according 
to  their  proximity  to  the  CBOwn  of  all  dignitaries  and 
nobles.  It  .was  not,  however,  until  the  reign  of  Charles 
VII.  or  Louis  XL  that  they  were  called  "princes,"  their 
eaidier  appellation  having  been  "seigneurs  du  sang"  or 
"  seigneurs  du  ligmage  dti  roi.'  In  France,  too,  the  natural 
children  of  the  king  were,  when  formally  acknowledged, 
termed  "  princes  legitimes,"  at  any  rate  from  the  reign  of 
Louis  XIV.,  and  although  they  were  excluded  from  the 
line  of  succession  to  the  throne  they  were  ranked  imme- 
diately after  the  princes  du  sang.  The  princMy  character 
of  all  the  male  descendants  of  the  imperial,  royal,  and 
other  reigning  families  of  the  Continent,  when  neither 
illegitimate  nor  the  issue  of  a  morganatic  marriage,  is 
perpetual  and  indelible.  Moreover,  the  families  which 
were  formerly  reigning  w'ithin  the  boundaries  of  the  old 
German  or  existing  Austrian  empires,  despite  that  they 
have  now  ceased  to  reign,  are  in  this  respect  still  in  the 
full  possession  of  their  earlier  privileges.  But  in  England, 
on  the  contrary,  it  was  considered  necessary  only  about  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago  to  make  express  provision  by 
royal  authority  that  the  titles  of  "  prince  "  and  "  princess  " 
should  be  enjoyed  by  the  children  of  the  sons  as  well  as 
by  the  sons  and  daughters  of  any  sovereign  of  the  United 
Kingdom.  It  may  therefore  be  concluded  that  they  had 
no  previous  claim  to  the  attributes  of  prince  and  princess, 
and  that  they  will  not  transmit  them  to  their  posterity. 

Besides  the  more  or  less  general  uses  ■  of  the  words 
"  prince  "  and  "  princess  "  which  we  have  already  noticed, 
there  are  the  particular  applications  of  them,  first  to  a  dis- 
tinct class  of  rulers,  and  secondly  to  a  particular  order  of 
nobility.  Princes  regarded  as  the  political  chiefs  of  states 
are  inferior  to  emperors  and  kings,  and  not  necessarily 
superior  to  reigning  grand-dukes  or  dukes.  Very  few  ex- 
amples of  them  at  present  exist,— those  of  Waldeck  and 
Pyrinont,  Montenegro,  Bulgaria,  and  Monaco  alone  oceur- 
ring  to  us.  None  of  the  great  feudatories  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  whether  in  Germany,  France,  or  Spain,  were  formally 
described  as  princes,  and  of  the  mediatized  families  still 
extant  who  once  supplied  members  to  the  imperial  diet, 
many  of  them  from  a  remote  period,  not  one  had  the  de- 
signation of  "prince"  before  the  commencement  of  the  17th 
century,  while  not  more  than  five  or  six  had  it  before  ths 


P  R  I  — P  R  I 


739 


comraenceincnt  of  the  18th  century.  The  old  Italian  and 
Welsli  iniiices  and  the  more  modern  jirinces  of  Orange  are 
in  fact  nearly  the  only  reigning  princes  who  are  remembered 
in  histoiy.  As  a  name  of  dignity,  neither  of  dominion  on 
the  one  hand  nor  of  courtesy  on  the  other,  "prince"  is 
common  Cf.ough  among  the  nobility  of  the  Continent. 
But  in  Er.gland  it  is  never  conferred  on  anybody  except 
the  heir-apparent  to  the  crown,  and  his  principality  is  a 
peerage.  Since  the  reign  of  Edward  III.  the  eldest  sons  of 
the  kings  and  queens  of  England  have  always  been  dukes 
of  Cornwall  by  birth,  and,  with  a  few  exceptions,  princes 
of  Wales  by  creation.  Before  that  Edward  I.  had  con- 
ferred the  principality  on  his  eldest  son,  afterwards  Edward 
II.,  who  was  summoned  to  and  imt  in  parliament  as  prince 
of  Wales.  But  Edward  the  Black  Prince  was  the  original 
grantee  of  the  principality  as  well  as  of  the  dukedom, 
under  the  special  limitations  which  have  continued  in  force 
to  the  present  day.  The  entail  of  the  former  was  "  to 
him  and  his  heirs  the  kings  of  England"  and  of  the  latter 
"  to  him  and  his  heirs  tho^rst-begotten  sons  of  the  kings 
of  England."  Hence  when  a  prince  of  Wales  and  duke  of 
Cornwall  succeeds  to  the  throne  the  principality  in  all 
cases  merges  at  once  in  the  crown,  and  can  have  no  sepa- 
■•ate  existence  again  except  under  a  fresh  creation,  while  the 
dukedom,  if  he  has  a  son,  descends  immediately  to  him,  or 
ren-ains  in  abeyance  until  he  has  a  son  if  one  is  not  already 
hen.  If,  however,  a  prince  of  Wales  and  duke  of  Corn- 
•wall  should  die  in  the  lifetime  of  the  sovereign,  leaving  a 
son  and  heir,  both  dignities  are  extinguished,  because  his 
son,  although  he  is  his  heir,  is  neither  a  king  of  England 
nor  the  first-begotten  son  of  a  king  of  England.  But,  if 
instead  of  a  son  he  should  leave  a  brother  his  heir,  then — 
as  was  decided  in  the  reign  of  James  I.  on  the  death  of 
Henry,  prince  of  Wales,  whose  heir  was  his  brother  Charles, 
duke  of  York^the  dukedom  of  Cornwall  would  pass  to  him 
as  the  first-begotten  son  of  the  king  of  England  then  alive, 
the  principality  of  Wales  alone  becoming  merged  in  the 
crown.  It  has  thus  occasionally  happened  that  the  dukes 
of  Cornwall  have  not  been  princes  of  Wales,  as  Henry  VI. 
and  Edward  VI.,  and  that  the  princes  of  Wales  have  not 
been  dukes  of  Cornwall,  as  llichard  II.  and  George  III. 
It  was  in  direct  imitation  of  these  dignities  that  the  princi- 
pality of  the  Asturias  and  the  dukedom  of  Rothesay  were 
created  by  John  I.  of  Castile  and  Robert  III.  of  Scotland 
in  favour  of  their  eldest  sons  and  the  eldest  sons  of  their 
successors.  In  the  new  kingdoms  of  Holland  and  Italy  the 
principalities  of  Orange  and  Naples  have  been  appropriated 
to  the  eldest  sons  of  the  sovereigns.  Under  the  monarchy 
in  France  princes  invariably  yielded  precedence  to  dukes, 
unless  of  course  they  were  "  princes  du  sang  "  or  "  princes 
legitimes,"  as  the  princes  of  Condd,  of  Conti,  or  of  Lamballo. 
Several  of  the  French  dukes  numbered  principalities  among 
their  inferior  titles,  as  the  dulce  of  La  Rochefoucauld  also 
prince  of  Mar^illac,  and  the  duke  of  Gramont  also  prince 
of  Bidache,  while  several  of  the  French  princes  were  the 
heads  merely  of  junior  branches  of  ducal  families,  as  the 
princes  of  Lton  and  of  Soubise  of  the  Rohan  family,  and  the 
])rince3  of  Tingry  and  of  Robecq  of  the  Montmorency  family. 
When  Napoleon  established  the  empire  and  reintroduced 
titles  into  Franco,  princes  were  made  the  first  and  dukes  the 
second  order  of  the  new  nobility.  But  only  a  few  princes 
were  created — Talleyrand,  prince  of  Benevent;  Bernadotte, 
prince  of  Ponte  Corvo ;  Berthior,  prince  of  AVngrara ; 
Davoust,  prince  of  Eckmiihl ;  Mass(5na,  prince  of  Essling  ; 
and  Ney,  prince  of  Moskowa,  nearly  if  not  quite  e.xliausting 
the  list.  In  Germany  and  Austria  the  title  of  "jiriuce"  is 
represented  by  "Prinz"  when  it  appertains  to  the  members 
of  imperial  and  royal  families,  as  Krcnprinz  von  Oesterreich 
or  Prinz  Wilhelm  von  Preussen,  and  by  "Fiirst"  when  it 
apijertains  to  the  members  of  mediatized  or  noble  families, 


as  Fiirst  von  Salm-Salm  or  von  Hohenlohe-Langenburg, 
and  Fiirst  von  Metternich-Winneburg  or  von  Bi.smarck- 
Schonhausen.  According  to  its  identification  with  "  Prinz  " 
or  "  Fiirst "  it  is  a  higher  or  lower  dignity  than  "  Herzog  " 
(duke).  In  the  old  empire,  however,  the  Churfiirsten  or 
electors  were  always  next  to  the  emperor  and  the  king  of 
the  Romans.  In  Italy,  as  well  as  in  Belgium  and  Hol- 
land, princes  are  inferior  to  dukes  as  members  of  a  parti- 
cular order  of  nobility.  In  Spain  and  Portugal  we  are  not 
aware  that  the  title  of  "  prince  "  has  ever  been  conferred 
on  a  subject  outside  of  the  royal  family  except  in  the  well-^ 
known  case  of  Godoy,  Prince  of  the  Peace.  Among  the 
Russian  nobility  there  are  neither  dukes  nor  -marquesses, 
the  orders  being  princes,  counts,  and  barons.  It  is  to  be 
observed,  however,  that  in  no  part  of  the  Continent  does 
precedence  depencf  exclusively  as  in  the  United  Kingdom 
on  the  apparent  rank  of  titular  distinctions  or  the  relative 
positions  which  they  nominally  occupy  in  formal  classifi- 
cation, (f.  dr.) 

PRINCE  EDWARD  ISLAND,  formerly  called  Isle  St 
Jean,  a  province  of  Canada,  in  British  North  America, 
lies  between  45°  58'  and  47°  7'  N.  lat.  and  62°  and  64° 
27'  W.  long.,  on  the  south  side  of  the  Gulf  of  St  Lawrence. 
It  is  separated  from  Nova  Scotia  on  the  south  and  from 
New  Brunswick  on  the  south  and  west  by  Northumberland 
Strait,  which  varies  from  9  to  30  miles  in  width.  Its 
greatest  length  is  nearly  150  miles,  its  general  breadth  34 
miles,  and  the  area  2133  square  miles  (1,365,120  acres). 

Physical  Features. — Prince  Edward  Island  resembles  a 
crescent  in  its  northern  outline,  the  two  horns  being  North 
and  East  Capes,  and  it  is  altogether  irregular  in  form. 
Its  surface  is  slightly  rolling,  the  elevations  of  land,  how- 
ever, rising  nowhere  higher  than  500  feet.  The  coast-line 
is  indented  with  numerous  bays  and  projecting  headlands, 
the  more  prominent  of  the  latter  being  North  Cape  on  the 
north-west.  West  Cape  on  the  west.  East  Cape  on  the  east. 
Cape  Bear  on  the  south-east ;  others  are  Stewart,  Bell, 
Prim,  Gallas,  Black,  Amherst,  and  Fifteen  on  the  south, 
Kildare,  Aylesbury,  Turner,  Cablehead,  and  Campbell  on 
the  north,  Durell  and  Bruce  on  the  east,  and  Seal  Point 
on  the  west.  The  principal  bays  are  Richmond  on  the 
north,  Egmont  on  the  south-west,  Hillsborough  on  the 
south,  and  Cardigan  on  the  east.  These  irdets,  piercing 
the  land  from  opposite  directions,  form  narrow  isthmuses 
which  divide  the  island  into  three  distinct  peninsulas. 
Other  bays  are  St  Peter's,  Grenville,  Harrington,  and 
Tignish  on  the  north ;  Colvillo,  RoUo,  Fortune,  and  Bough- 
ton  on  the  east ;  Orwell  and  Pownal  on  the  south.  Along 
the  coasts  there  are  .several  small  islands,  viz.,  Grover, 
Fish,  Burnburv,  Lennox,  Robinson's,  Bonghton,  Panmore, 
Wood,  Governor,  St  Peter's,  and  Brae.  The  chief  rivers 
are  North,  Elliott  or  West,  Hillsborotigh  or  East,  Ellis  or 
Grand,  Percival,  Trout,  Boughton,  Murray,  Dunk,  and 
Morrell.  The  Grand  river  is  the  seat  of  a  large  and  in- 
creasing oyster  and  codfish  trade.  The  Dunk  is  a  fine 
salmon  and  trout  stream.  The  principal  harbours  are 
Char'lottetown,  Georgetown,  Bcdeque,  Port  Hill,  Cascum- 
peque,  Souris,  Murray,  Savage,  Bedford,  and  Westmore- 
land. The  island  is  Avell  watered,  and  by  the  disintegration 
of  the  soft  red  sandstones  a  bright  red  loamy  soil  of  great 
fertility  is  produced.  To  this  the  province  owes  its  re- 
markable i)roductivcness  as  an  agricultural  district,  and 
the  gently  undulating  surface,  the  rich  fields,  and  pretty 
homesteads  embowered  in  trees  give  variety  and  beauty 
to  the  landscape. 

Geolof/y. — The  oldest  geological  formatiops  in  Prince 
Edward  Island  aro  rejireseirted  by  beds  of  brown,  grey, 
and  red  sandstone  and  shale,  with  layers  of  coarse  concre- 
tionary limestone  and  fossil  plants.  These  ore  of  newei 
Carboniferous  (or  in  part  of  Lower  Permian)  age,  and  have 


740 


PRINCE      EDWARD      ISLAND 


been  named  by  Sir  William  Dawson  the  i'ermo-carbonlfer- 
cus  series.  They  appear  in  the  peninsula  between  Orwell 
Bay  and  Pownal  Bay,  in  Governor's  Island,  in  Hillsborough 
Bay,  and  on  the  coast  between  West  and  North  Capes,  as 
well  as  in  other  localities  on  the  south  and  west.  But  the 
prevalent  rocks  are  bright  red  sandstones  with  calcareous 
cement,  alternating  with  beds  of  red  and  mottled  clay,  and 
with  occasional  white  bands  and  layers  of  concretionary 
limestones  and  conglomerate,  which  in  mineral  character 
resemble  the  Trias  or  New  Red  Sandstone  of  Nova  Scotia. 
The  formation  may  be  divided  into  two  sections :  "  the 
lower,  representing,"  says  Dawson,  "  the  Bunter  Sandslein 
of  Europe, -is  charactei  ized' by  the  prevalence  of  hard  con- 
cretionary calcareous  sandstones  and  obscure  fossil  plants, 
while  the  upper  (representing,  perhaps,  the  Keuper  of 
Europe)  has  softer  and  more  regularly  bedded  sandstones 
and  clays."  Owing  to  the  similarity  of  thd  Permo-carboni- 
ferous  and  Triassic  beds,  and  the  general  covering  of  soil, 
it  is  not  possible  definitely  to  mark  the  limits  of  the  two 
formations.  Drift  deposits,  viz.,  boulder  clay,  stratified 
sand  and  gravel  containing  in  some  places  sea-shells  of 
species  now  living  and  occasional  boulders  (this  deposit 
comparatively  rare),  and  loose  boulders,  overlie  the  surface 
of  the  more  solid  rocks  in  the  greater  part  of  the  island. 
Beds  of  peat,  dunes  of  drifted  sand,  alluvial  clays,  and 
mussel  mud  (valuable  as  a  fertilizer)  occur  in  creeks  and 
bays.  The  portions  of  country  occupied  by  the  Upper 
Carboniferous  series  are  generally  flat,  and  this  applies, 
observe  Drs  Dawson  and  Harrington,  to  a  portion  of  the 
Triassic  region  north  of  Bedeque,  where  the  beds  seem  to 
have  been  subjected  to  severe  aqueous  denudation.  The 
minerals  are  unimportant,  neither  coal,  gypsum,  nor  gold 
being  found  in  any  part  of  the  island. 

Climate  and  Vegetation. — The  climate  of  Prince  Edward 
Island  is  much  milder  than  that  of  the  adjacent  provinces, 
and,  though  the  winter  is  severe  and  cold,  the  air  is  in- 
vigorating and  salubrious.  The  coldest  pionth  is  January, 
when  the  thermometer  registers  a  daily  average  of  15° '9. 
Fogs  seldom  occur.  In  the  summer  the  heat  is  less 
extreme  than  in  Quebec,  the  mean  being  62°"3,  and  the 
pleasant  autumn  months  attract  visitors  from  all  parts  of 
the  American  continent.  Vegetation  develops  rapidly, 
and  agriculture  is  extensively  prosecuted.  Wheat,  barley, 
oats,  pease  and  beans,  potatoes,  turnips,  and  other  crops 
ripen  to  perfection.' 

The  amount  of  land  under  crop  in  1881  was  467,211 
acres,  and  in  pasture  126,935  acres.  The  chief  pro- 
duce raised  in  that  year  was  546,986  bushels  of  wheat, 
119,368  of  barley,  3,538,219  of  oats,  90,458  of  buckwheat, 
6,042,191  of  potatoes,  1,198,407  of  turnips,  42,572  of 
other  roots,  143,791  tons  of  hay,  and  15,247  tons  of  grass 
and  clover  seed.  Of  live  stock  there  were  31,335  horses, 
45,895  milch  cows,  44,743  other  horned  cattle,  166,496 
sheep,  and  40,181  swine.  1,688,690  ft  of  butter,  196,273 
of  cheese,  14,945  of  honey,  and  25,098  of  maple  sugar 
were  made  during  the  year.  Prince  Edward  Island  does 
not  grow  much  fruit,  but  the  apple  crop  is  usually  good, 
though  not  large,  and  grapes,  plums,  and  currants  are 
grown  in  small  quantities.  The  land  which  is  not  cul- 
tivable consiiits  of  soft  spongy  turf  which  may  be  used 
for  fuel. 

Comvicrce. — The  forests  of  the  island  used  to  be  very  extensive, 
but  lumbering  operations,  desti'uctive  fires,  and  the  needs  of  the 
husbandmen  have  reduced  them,  thougb  many  trees  still  remain,  the 
principal  being  beech,  birch,  pine,  maple,  poplar,  spruce,  fir,  hem- 
lock, larch,  ce4ar,  &c.  The  exports  in  1883  were  valued  as  follows  : — 
produce  of  H\,e  forest,  $28,385  ;  agricultural  produce,  $377,614  ; 
inimals  and  their  produce,  §238,952  ;  manufactures,  $183,986,  the 
total  being  $1,318,549;  that  of  the  imports  (manufactured  goods, 
!ron,  hard;"are,  wines,  spirits,  tobacco,  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  molasses, 
ic.)  was  $682,170. 

Industnes. — Shipbuilding  in  former  years  was  a  very  active 


industry.  It  is  still  carried  on,  but  to  a  considerably  emaller 
extent, — the  number  of  vessels  built  in  1883  having  beeu  only 
seventeen,  with  a  tonnage  of  5343.  On  the  31st  of  December  1883 
the  vessels  registered  in  the  province  and  remaining  on  the  registry 
books  of  the  several  ports  amounted  to  241,  with  a  tonnage  of 
40,400.  In  that  year  there  were  engaged  iu  the  coasting  trade 
(including  steamers)  1162  vessels,  representing  a  tonnage  of  113,117. 
The  manufactures  are  chielly  for  domestic  use,  and  include  the 
making  of  woollen  cloth,  saws  and  files,  saddles  and  harness,  sashes, 
doors,  and  blinds  ;  there  are  also  saw-mills,  starch  factories,  tan- 
neries, tin  and  sheet-iron  works,  tobacco-pipe  factories,  &c.  In 
1881  the  amoiuit  of  capital  invested  in  industries  was  $2,085,776, 
giving  employment  to  6767  hands,  and  the  value  of  the  products 
was  $3,400,208. 

Fisheries. — The  fisheries  are  exceedingly  valuable,  particularly 
those  on  the  north  coast,  the  catch  being  cmefly  mackerel,  haddock, 
cod,  hake,  and  herrings,  though  other  kinds  are  taken.  Of  late 
years  increasejl  impetus  has  been  given  to  this  industry,  and  many 
men  and  boats  are  employed  in  conducting  it.  Enormous  quan- 
tities of  lobsters  and  oysters  are  annually  shipped  to  all  parts  of 
the  American  continent  as  well  as  elsewhere.  The  value  of  the 
fisheries  in  1883  was  nearly  half  a  million  dollars. 

Game,  <tc. — Wild  ducks,  teal,  brant, -wild  geese,  woodcocks, 
partridges,  pigeons,  and  snipe  occur  in  great  abundance.  Birds 
number  260  species.  Of  wild  animals  the  principal  are  bears  (found 
occasionally  only),  lynxes,  foxes,  musk-rats,  hares,  sguirtels,  &c 
In  the  summer  and  autumn  seals  in  large  numbers  frequent  the 
shores. 

Communication. — Good  wi^gon  roads  are  to  be  found  wherever 
there  is  a  settlement.  The  Prince  Edward  Island  Railway,  200 
miles  long,  runs  from  one  end  of  the  island  to  the  other,  and 
branches  off  to  every  town  or  point  of  impoitance.  The  main 
line  extends  from  Souris  and  Georgetown  on  the  east  to  Tignish 
on  the  north-western  extremity,  connecting  with  Summerside  and 
Charlottetown,  the  capital.  During  the-  season  of  navigation 
regular  communication  is  had  by  steanier  with  Nova  Scotia,  New 
Brunswick,  Quebec,  and  Boston.  Navigation  usually  closes  about 
the  middle  of  December  and  opens  before,  the  -first  of  May.  In 
winter  the  mails  and  passengers  are  conveyed  across  the  strait 
in  ice-boats,  which  ply  between  Cape  Traverse  in  Prince  Edward 
Island  and  Cape  Tormentine  in  New  Brunswick.  A  steamer  runs 
between  Georgetown  and  Pictou,  Nova  Scoti«,  nearly  the  whole 
season.  There  is  a  post-office  to  every  400  -of  tbe  inhabitants.  Tele- 
graphic communication  is  maintained  with  America  and  Europe  by 
means  of  a  submarine  cable  aljout  10  miles  in  length,  Connecting 
the  island  with  New  Brunswick.  Telegraph'  ofiices  are  established 
throughout  the  province  and  along  the  line  of  railway. 

Pojmlalion. — The  province  is  divided  into  three  counties,  viz.. 
King's,  Queen's,  and.  Prince,  which  are  subdivided  into  sixty-seven 
townships  and  three  royalties.  The  population  is  of  mixed  origin, 
a  large  proportion  being  emigrants  from  Great  Biitain,  and  the 
remainder  natives  of  the  country,  descendants  of  the  French  Aca- 
dians,  Scottish,  English,  and  Irish  settlers,  and  the  loyalists  who 
went  to  the  island  after  the  American  revolution.  The  Indians 
number  281.  In  1881  the  population  was  108,891(54,729  males 
and- 54,162  females).  The  Roman  Catholic  diocese  is  eituited  at 
"Charlottetown,  and  authority  over  the  spiritual  affairs  of  the 
Episcopalians  is  exercised  by  the  bishop  of  Nova  Scotia.  The 
following  table  shows  the  chief  religious  denominations  and  the 
number  of  their  adherents  : — 


Church  of  Rome  47,116  1 

Presbyterians    83,836 

Methodists 13,486 


Church  of  England T,192 

Baptists  ....- 6,236 


The  chief  towns  are  Charlottetown  (11,485),  the  capital  of  the 
island  and  the  county  town  of  Queen's,  Summerside  (2853),  capital 
of  Prince  county,  and  Georgetown  (1118),  capital  of  King's  county. 
Princetown  is  a  flourishing  seaport  on  Richmond  Bay,  and  Rustico, 
famous  for  its  bathing  facilities,  is  a  place  of  popular  summer  resort 
Tignish  and  Alberton  are  stations  much  frequented  by  fishermen, 
and  Souris,  60  mUes  east  of  Charlottetown,  well  furnished  with 
harbour  accommodation,  is  the  outlet  for  the  exports  of  the  greater 
part  of  King's  county.  Other  rising  -villages  are  llount  Stewart, 
Kensington,  Montague,  Breadalbane,  and  Crapaud. 

Administration,  Finatite,  <tc. — The  affairs  of  the  province  are 
administered  by  a  lieutenant-governor  and  an  executive  council 
consisting  of  nine  members,  three  mth  portfolios  and  six  without, 
assisted  by  a  legislative  council  of  thirteen  members  and  a  legisla- 
tive assembly  of  thirty  members,  both  elective.  The  lieutenant- 
governor  is  appointed  by  the  governor-general  of  Canada  in  counciL 
A  system  of  responsible  government  lias  existed  in  the  island  since 
1851.  Prince  Edward  Island  '•-eti:ms  six  members  to  the  Canadian 
House  of  Commons,  and  fe'-ir  senators  are  appointed  to  the  Canadian 
Senate  by  the  cro-wp,  All  males  owning  a  freehold  or  leasehold 
property  to  the  value  of  $400,  or  partly  freehold  and  partly  lease- 
hold amounting  together  to  §400,  and  in  possession  of  the  same 
for  at  least  twelve  months  previous  to  election,  have  the  right 
to  vote  for  a  member  of  the  Legislative  CouucU.     The  franchise 


P  R  l  —  P  R  I 


741 


for  the  House  of  Assembly  is  practically  residential  manhood 
suffrage. 

In  1882  the  public  revenue  was  §233,464  and  the  expenditure 
1257,228.  The  chief  source  of  revenue  is  the  yearly  subsidy  granted 
by  the  Dominion  Government  under  the  terms  of  the  British  North 
Amenca  Act.  In  1883  it  amounted  to  $164,674.  The  remainder 
of  the  receipts  is  derived  from  the  sale  of  Government  lands,  licences, 
and  miscellaneous  fees.  The  provincial  legislature  meets  at  Char- 
lottctown,  where  the  public  offices  are  situated.  The  judiciary  con- 
sists of  a  supreme  court  mth  one  chief  and  two  assistant  judges  ; 
a  court  of  chancery,  of  which  the  lieutenant-governor  is  ex  officio 
chancellor,  and  the  judicial  powers  of  which  are  exercised  by  a 
master  of  the. rolls  and  vice-chancellor;  a  court  of  marriage  and 
divorce,  of  which  the  lieutenant-governor  and  members  of  the 
executive  council  are  judges  ;  a  court  of  vice-admiralty  with  one 
judge  and  two  deputies;  a  court  of  probate  and  wills  with  one  judge; 
three  county  courts  with  one  judge  for  each  ;  and  stipendiary  magis- 
trates and  justices  of  the  peace.  The  province  has  authority  to 
make  its  own  civil  laws,  but  in  all  criminal  cases  the  form  employed 
in  the  courts  is  the  criminal  law  of  the  Dominion.  Prince  Kdward 
Island  is  the  twelfth  military  district  in  the  militia  of  Canada.  The 
established  strength  of  the  active  force,  by  arms,  is  composed  of 
three  batteries  of  garrison  artillery,  one  company  of  engineers,  and 
ten  companies  of  infantry, — total,  54  officers  and  608  non-commis- 
simcd  officers  and  men.  The  period  of  service  in  time  of  peace  Is 
three  years. 

Education. — The  free-school  system  has  obtained  in  the  island 
suite  1852.  Previous  to  that  date  the  schools  were  mainly  supported 
by  vt)luntary  subscription  and  such  local  assistance  as  could  be 
obtained.  In  1877  the  Public  Schools  Act— an  ample  and  liberal 
measure — was  passed,  and  a  department  of  education  was  instituted. 
Two  years  later  ladies  were  admitted  to  Prince  of  Wales  College, 
an  institution  established  in  1860,  and  amalgamated  in  1879  with 
the  normal  school,  and  since  then  the  department  has  introduced 
many  improvements  into  the  system.  The  total  number  of  teachers 
in  1833  was  473,  of  school  districts  419,  and  of  scTiools  424.  The 
number  of  pupils  enrolled  was  21,495,  and  tlie  average  daily  attend- 
ance was  11,759..  The  total  expenditure  for  education  was,  by  the 
provincial  Government  §101,193,  by  the  school  districts  $35,624, 
total  §136,817.  The  Bible  is  read  in  all  public  schools..  Besides 
the  institutions  named  there  are  St  Dunstan's  College  (exceedingly 
well  conducted,  and  Roman  Catholic  in  religion),  a  model  school, 
thirteen  high  schools,  and  several  private  schools  and  academies. 
The  local  government  maintains  a  hospital  for  the  care  of  the  in- 
sane, and  the  marine  hospital  is  under  the  control  of  the  Dominion 
authorities. 

History. — Sebastian  Cabot  is  said  to  have  discovered  this  island 
in  1497,  but  the  authority  on  which  this  statement  rests  is  at  least 
doubtful.  Certain  it  is  that  Jacques  Cartier  liad  the  credit  of 
naming  it  Isle  St  Jean  when  he  discovered  it  on  24th  June  1634 
during  one  of  his-voyages  up  the  St  Lawrence.  That  name  clung 
to  it  for  265  years.  Champlain,  early  in  tlie  next  century,  took 
possession  of  it  for  France,  and  in  1663  a  grant  was  made  of  it  to 
Captain  Doublet,  an  officer  in  the  army,  who,  however,  failing  to 
inalce  settlements  in  the  colony,  soon  afterwards  lost  his  grant. 
Little' attention  was  paid  to  the  island  untU,  after  the  peace  of 
Utrecht,  when  the  French,  allnred  by  its  fertility,  made  efforts  to 
colonize  it.  In  1719  it  was  granted,  en  seigncuric,  to  the  count  of 
St  Pierre,  who  tried  to  establish  fisheries  and  a  trading  oomnany. 
He  lavished  considerable  meaus  on  his  enterprise,  but  the  scheme 
proved  unsuccessful  and  his  grant  was  revoked.  In  1755  the  island 
-ivas  captured  by  the  British,  but  after  the  treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapello 
it  was  restored  to  France,  from  which  it  was  again  wrested  in  1758. 
It  was  afterwards  placed  under  the  administration  of  Nova  Scotia, 
and  sopie  years  later  it  was  erected  into  a  separate  government. 
Tho  first  parliament  was  called  together  in  1773,  and  a  constitution 
was  given  to  tho  colony.  In  November  1798  tho  legislature  pa.ssed 
an  Act  changing  the  name  of  tho  province  to  Prince  Edward  Island, 
out  of  compliment  to  the  duke  of  Kent,  who  was  at  that  time  com- 
mander of  the  forces  in  British  North  America.  In  February  1799 
tho  Act  was  confirmed  by  the  king  in  council. 

After  the  peace  of  1763  a  plan  was  agreed  to  by  which  tho  island 
was  divided  into  townships  of  about  20,000  acres  each.  Grants  of 
these  lands  were  made  to  individuals  supposed  to  have  claims  on 
the  Government.  They  were  to  pay  a  small  sum  as  quit  rents,  and 
tha  conditions  imposed  provided  for  tho  establishment  of  churches 
and  wharves,  and  bona  fide  settlement.  The  grantees,  however, 
were  in  most  cases  mere  speculators,  who  had  no  mind  to  brave 
the  trials  of  colonization  in  a  new  country.  Many  promptly  dis- 
posed of  their  "lots,"  and  tho  lands  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  largo 
number  of  non-residents.  Tho  land  question  remained  o  vexed 
point  of  contention  until  1860,  when  the  Governmciit  was  compelled 
to  appoint  a  commission  to  appraise  the  rights  of  the  ab.scntee  ownei-s, 
and  to  formulate  a  scheme  of  adjustment.  Tho  commission  advised 
the  Government  to  buy  the  lands  and  resell  them  to  the  tenantry. 
A  Bill  for  that  purpose  was  passed,  but  tho  imperial  authorities  dis- 
allowed it.    A  second  attempt  proved  more  successful,  and  a  measure, 


having  the  same  object  in  view,  was  agreed  to.  Tho  agitation  was 
silenced,  and  the  tenants  eagerly  availed  themselves  of  their  privi- 
leges. At  the  close  of  1882,  out  of  tho  843,981  acres  of  land  acquired 
by  the  Government,  only  142,011  acres  remained  to  be  disposed  ot 
Of  that  amount  about  75,000  acres  represented  land  held  by  parties 
who  had  not  yet  purchased. 

Prince  Edward  Island  declined  to  accept  the  Act  of  Confederation 
in  1867,  but  in  July  1873  it  entered  the  union  of  American  colonies 
which  con.stitute  the  Dominion  of  Canada  {q.v.).  (G.  ST.) 

PRINCE  OF  W.^IES  ISLAND,i  the  official  name  of 
the  island  popularly  known  as  Penang  or  Pdlo-Penano 
{i.e.,  Areca  Nut  Island),  which  lies  8  or  9  miles  oflF  the 
west  coast  of  the  Malay  peninsula  in  5°  20'  N.  lat.  and 
100°  20'  E.  long.  The  island  is  about  15  miles  long  by  5 
broad  and  has  an  area  of  107  square  miles  or  69,000  acres, 
considerably  less  than  the  Isle  of  Wight.  When  in  1785 
it  was  ceded  to  the  English  by  the  rajah  of  Kedah  in  re- 
turn for  an  annual  pension  of  10,000  dollars,  it  was  almost 
uninhabited;  at  the  census  of  1881  its  population  amounted 
to  90,951  (comprising  612  Europeans,  21,772  JIalays, 
45,135  Chinese,  15,730  natives  of  India),  and  it  has  since 
been  increased  mainly  by  further  Chinese  and  Indian  im- 
migration. The  people  from  the  east  coast  of  India  are 
locally  known  as  Klings,  a  Malay  corruption  of  Telinga  or 
Telugu  ;  and  the  half-breed  race  between  Indian  and  Malay 
is  distinguished  as  Ja\vi-Pekan.  About  two-fifths  of  Penang 
are  lowland,  and  the  rest  consists  of  hills,  which  towards 
the  north  reach  their  culminating  point,  2922  feet  above 
the  sea,  in  the  peak  now  utilized  as  a  sanatorium.  A  con- 
siderable portion  of  the  surface  is  still  uncleared,  and  from 
the  summit  of  the  peak  the  whole  island  presents  very 
much  the  appearance  of  a  forest,  the  villages  always  lying 
in  the  midst  of  groves  of  tho  cocoa-nut  palm.  On  the 
whole,  however,  vegetation  is  not  so  rich  as  on  the  neigh- 
bouring mainland.  Apart  from  the  cocoa-nuts  and  areca- 
nuts,  the  principal  products  are  sugar,  coffee,  and  pepper ; 
but  increasing  attention  is  again  being  given  fo  nutmegs 
and  cloves,  which  can  be  grown  on  the  hillsides.  Of  the 
landholders  2280  were  Chinese  and  1482  Maiays  in  1882. 
In  the  lowlands  the  temperature  ranges  from  80°  to  90°, 
but  on  the  peak  from  60°  to  75°  The  rainfall  in  1882 
was  1 26'50  inches — somewhat  above  the  average.  George- 
town or  Penang,  .the  only  town  on  the  island,  lies  on  the 
east  coast  on  a  low  plain  stretching  out  into  the  sea ;  its 
harbour,  always  well  filled  with  both  European  vessels  and 
native  craft,  is  the  strait  between  island  and  mainland. 
Water- works  were  undertaken  in  1865.  Among  the  public 
buildings  are  the  to^vn-hall  ( 1 87 2-80),  the  post-office  (1881), 
the  free  school  with  upwards  of  600  pupils,  tho  Christian 
Brothers'  school,  several  Tamil  schools,  the  general  hospital 
(1882),  .and  the  pauper  hospital.  An  important  leper 
hospital  is  maintained  on  Pulo-Jarajah,  a  small  but  lofty 
island  in  the  strait  opposite  the  town.  Though  Singapore 
has  withdrawn  much  of  the  trade  that  formerly  found  its 
way  to  Penang,  there  has  been  a  great  increase  both  in 
e.Kports  and  imports,  the  aggregate  value  for  1859-60  being 
£3,530,000  and  for  1882  £8,855,919. 

The  attention  of  tho  East  India  Company  was  first  called  to  Pulc- 
Penang  by  Captain  Liglit  in  1771,  aud  it  was  under  his  personal 
command  that  the  settlement  was  founded  in  July  1786.  At  his 
death  in  1794  he  left  "a  compact  little  township  with  fort  and 
public  buildings."  In  1798  Sir  George  Leith  (lor  tho  purpose 
mainly  of  rooting  out  piracy)  purchased  from  the  rajah  of  Kedah  for 
2000  dollars  tho  tract  of  land  opposite  Prince  of  Wales  Island,  which 
has  sinco  become  known  as  Province  AVellcsley  (area  in  1885,  234 
square  miles).  In  1806  tho  island  was  made  a  presidency  of  equal 
rank  with  JIadras  or  Bombay  ;  and  after  Singapore  and  Malacca 
were  incorporated  with  it  in  1826  it  remained  tho  scat  of  the 
general  government  till  1832.  The  commercial  part  of  tho  town 
was  destroyed  by  firo  in  1808. 

1  Prince  of  Wales  Island  is  also  tho  name  of  an  island  separated 
by  Endeavour  Strait  from  York  Peninsula  in  Qiicensland,  Australia, 
discovered  by  Captain  Cook  In  1770,  and  since  famous  for  its  pearl 
fiaherr. 


742 


P  R  I  — P  R  I 


PRINCE  OF  WALES  LAND,  a  large  insular  tract  in 
the  northern  Arctic  region  opposite  Boothia  Felix,  from 
which 'it  is  separated  by  Franklin  Strait. 

PRINCES  ISLANDS,  the  Deraonesi  or  Demonnesi  of 
the  ancients,  a  beautiful  cluster  in  the  Sea  of  Marmora 
opposite  that  part  of  the  Ai.iatic  coast  which  trends  south- 
east from  Scutari  to  the  entrance  of  the  Gulf  of  Ismid 
(Nicomedia).  They  are  nine  in  number — Prote  (Turkish, 
Tinaki),  Antigone,  Khalki  or  Karki  (Chalcitis  or  "copper- 
mine  island  "  of  the  ancients),  Plate,  Oxeia,  Pitys,  Antiro- 
bido  (Terebinth  or  Rabbit  Island),  Neandro,  and  Prinkipo. 
Prinkipo  or  Principo  (with  an  Italian  c),  Kyzyl-Ada  or  Red 
Island  of  the  Turks,  the  largest  of  the  group,  is  a  broad 
green  hill  of  red  quartz  rising  with  soft  and  verdant  out- 
lines into  two  peaks,  the  higher  of  which  (500  feet)  is 
crowned  by  the  ex-monastery  of  St  George,  embosomed 
amid  its  oaks.  On  the  height  above  the  town  of  Prinkipo 
is  the  monastery  of  the  Transfiguration  and  on  tlje  coast 
opposite  Antirobido  that  of  St  Nicholas.  A  white-flowered 
heath  {Erica  arborea),  two  species  of  cistus  (Cistws  mllosus 
and  sali'ifoliws),  and  lavender  give  character  to  the  liixuri, 
ant  vegetation.  Khalki  contains  three  convents  and  an 
Ottoman  naval  college ;  and  the  whole  group,  especially 
Ifhalki  and  Plate,  form  a  great  summer  resort  for  the 
Greeks  of  Constantinople,  from  which  city  there  is  a  regular 
steamer  service. 

The  Princes  Islands  are  intimately  associated  with  Byzantine 
history.  A  convent  in  Prinkipo  (now  a  mass  of  ruins  at  the  spot 
called  Kamares)  was  a  place  of  exile  for  the  empresses  Irene, 
EiipUrosyne,  Zoe,  and  Anna  Dalassena.  Antigone  was  the  prison 
of  the  patriarch  Methodius,  and  its  chapel  is  said  to  have  been 
bililt  by  Theodora.  In  Khalki  the  monastery  of  the  Theotokos 
(originally  of  St  John),  which  since  1831  has  been  a  Greek  com- 
mercial school,  was  probably  founded  by  John  VIII.  Pah-eologus, 
and  was  rebuilt  about  1680  by  the  famous  Panagiotaki,  and  again 
by  Alexander  Ypsilanti  of  Moldavia.  Close  beside  it  is  the  tomb 
of  Edward  Barton,  second  Euglisli  ambassador  to  the  Porte.  Hagia 
Trias  (a  school  of  theology  since  1844)  was  rebuUt  by  the  patriarch 
Metrophaues  of  bibliographical  memory.  Antirobido  is  associated 
with  the  exile  of  Ignatius  and  Theodosius  ;  and  Plate  contained 
Bubterranean  state-ijrisons  hewn  out  of  the  rock. 

See  Gustave  Schlumberger,  Les  ties  d€S  Princes,  Paris,  18S4 ;  Grisebach,  Rume- 
lien  vnd  Brussa,  1839. 

PRINCETON,  a  borough  and  township  of  the  United 
States,  in  Mercer  county,  New  Jersey,  on  the  Delaware 
and  Rariton  Canal,  3  miles  north  by  rail  from  Princeton 
Junction,  which  is  48  miles  south-west  of  New  York  and 
42  north-east  of  Philadelphia  on  the  Pennsylvania  Rail- 
way. Standing  on  high  ground,  it  commands  a  fine 
prospect  towards  the  east  and  south.  The  town  is  the 
seat  of  Princeton  or  New  Jersey  College,  founded  in  1746 
by  members  of  the  presbytery  of  New  York,  chartered  in 
the  same  year,  and  opened  at  EUzabethtown  (now  ElLzar 
beth)  in  1747,  removed  to  Newark  in  the  same  year  and 
rechartered  in  1748,  and  finally  transferred  in  1756  to 
Princeton,  where  Nassau  Hall,  so  called  in  honour  of 
William  III.  of  England,  had  been  erected.  Nassau  Hall 
has  been  twice  burned  down,  in  1802  and  1855,  but  was 
restored  in  1856  in  the  old  style.  This  building.  Reunion 
Hall  (1870),  West  College  (1836),  East  CoUege  (1833), 
and  the  halls  of  the  American  Whig  and  Cliosophic  literary 
locieties  enclose  a  quadrangle ;  and  eastward,  in  the  line 
'f  Nassau  Hall  or  the  north  front,  stand  the  library  build- 
ngs  (1873),  consisting  of  an  octagonal  centre  with  two 
wings,  tha  Dickinson  Hall  (1870),  and  the  John  C.  Green 
School  of  Science  (1873).  Along  the  western  border  of 
the  grounds  are  University  Hall  (1^76),  the  Halstead 
observatory  (1867),  the  gj-mnasium  (1869),  Witherspoon 
HaU  (1876),  and  Edwards  Hall  (1879),  while  on  the  east 
are  the  Marquand  Chapel  (1881),  Murray  HaU  (1877), 
and  the  residence  of  the  president.  Almost  all  these 
buildings  are  the  gifts  of  generous  benefactors,  the  most 


munificent  of  whom  was  Mr  John  C.  Green,  by  whom  and 
by  the  trustees  of  his  estate  not  less  than  $1,500,000  has 
been  given  in  buildings  and  endowments.  In  1884  the 
college,  which  is  steadily  growing,  had  39  professors  and 
519  students,  and  the  library  contained  77,000  volumes. 
The  endowments  amount  to  §1,392,000.  The  governor 
of  the  State  of  New  Jersey  is  ex  officio  president  of  the 
board  of  trustees,  who  are  twenty-five  in  number  besides 
the  president  of  the  college.  The  trustees  appoint  the 
members  of  the  faculty  and  have  entire  control  over  the 
funds  and  property  of  the  college.  They  fill  all  vacancies 
in  their  own  body.  Besides  the  Halstead  observatory, 
there  is  another  well-equipped  observatory  at  the  School 
of  Science,  and  the  laboratories  and  museum  are  well 
furnished  for  scientific  study.  In  the  cemeterj',  which  lies 
to  the  north  of  the  college,  are  the  tombs  of  Jonathan 
Edwards,  Aaron  Burr,  <itc.  Princeton  is  also  the  seat  of 
the  oldest  theological  seminary  of  the  Presbyterian  Church 
in  the  United  States  (founded  in  1812),  with  7  professors, 
1  instructor,  about  150  students,  and  an  endowment  of 
about  a  inillion  doUars.  The  population  of  the  township 
in  1870  was  3986  and  of  the  borough  2798,  and  in  1880 
respectively  4348  and  3209. 

At  Princeton  on  3d  January  1777  Washington  defeated  the 
British  forces  ;  the  Continental  Congress  met  in  the  town  (Nassau 
Hall)  from  26th  June  to  4th  Kovember  1783. 

PRINGLE,  Sib  John  (1707-1782),  a  distinguished 
physician,  was  the  younger  son  of  Sir  John  Pringle  of 
Stitchel,  Roxburghshire,  and  was  born  on  the  10th  of  April 
1707.  He  was  educated  at  home  under  a  private  tutor, 
and  subsequently  at  St  Andrews,  at  Edinburgh,  and  at 
Leyden,  where  he  took  the  degree  of  doctor  of  physic. 
At  the  last-named  university  he  was  an  intimate  friend  of 
Van  Swieten  and  Haller,  He  at  first  settled  in  Edinburgh 
as  a  physician,  but  was  soon  after  appointed  assistant 
and  successor  to  the  professor  of  moral  philosophy  in  the 
university.  In  1742  he  became  physician  to  the  earl 
of  Stair,  then  commanding  the  British  army  in  Flanders, 
and  in  1745  was  appointed  by  the  duke  of  Cumberland 
physician-general  to  the  forces  in  the  Low  Countries.  In 
1749,  having  settled  in  London,  he  was  made  physician 
in  ordinary  to  the  duke  of  Cumberland ;  and  he  afterwards 
received  other  court  appointments  as  physician,  and  in 
1766  a  baronetcy.  He  read  a  series  of  papers  to  the  Royal 
Society,  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  Transactions,  and 
which  gained  for  him  the  Copley  gold  medal  His  first 
book  was  Observations  on  the  Nature  and  Cure  of  Hospital 
and  Jayl-Fevers  (London,  1750).  He  married  in  1752  a 
daughter  of  Dr  Oliver,  a  physician  in  Bath ;  and  in  the 
same  year  he  published  his  important  work.  Observations 
on  the  Diseases  of  the  Aiiny  in  Camp  and  Garrison,  which 
went  through  many  editions  and  was  also  translated  into 
French,  German,  Italian,  and  Spanish.  After  having  acted 
for  many  years  as  a  member  of  the  council  of  the  Royal 
Society,  he  was  in  November  1772  elected  president  of 
that  body.  In  this  capacity  he  deliveTed  and  published, 
in  connexion  with  the  annual  assignments  of  the  Copley 
medal,  six  "  discourses,"  which  were  afterwards  collected 
into  a  single  volume  (1783).  In  1776  he  published  A 
Discourse  on  Improvements  in  preserving  the  Health  oj 
Mariners.  After  passing  his  seventieth  year  he  resigned 
his  presidency  and  removed  to  Edinburgh  in  1780,  but 
returned  to  London  in  September  1781,  and  died  in  Janu- 
ary following.  There  is  a  monument  to  him  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  executed  by  NoUekens. 

A  Life  of  Pringle  by  Kippis  is  prefixed  to  the  volume  contain- 
ing the  Six  Discourses.  The  library  of  the 'College  of  Physicians 
of  Edinburgh  possesses  ten  folio  volumes  of  his  unedited  MSS. ,  in- 
eluding  an  essay  "on  air,  climate,  diet,  and  exercise."  There  are 
^logcs  on  Piingle  by  Vicfj  d'Azyr  and  Condorcet. 

PRINTING,  TypouRAPHic.      See  TypoGRAPHY. 


» 


1.;^ 


P  R  I  — P  R  I 


743 


PRIOn,  MAT-raii-w  (1G64-1721),  the  most  distinguished 
of  English  society  poets,'was  the  nephew,  as  Chaucer  was 
the  SOD,  of  a  London  vintner,  and  the  lives  of  the  two  poets 
were  parallel  in  a  good  many  other  respects.  Their  art 
earned  for  both  of  them  social  advancement  and  political 
employment;  both  had  a  turn  for  business  and  diplomacy; 
both  were  employed  on  embassies,  both  even  in  secret 
missions;  both  were  officers  of  the  royal  household,  and 
both  were  rewarded  with  posts  in  Government  offices  of 
trade;  and  there  was  besides  not  a  little  in  common  between 
them  as  poets.  There  are  not  two  careers  in  literature 
that  offer  more  numerous  or  more  curious  points  of 
parallelism.  The  vintner's  nephew  in  the  reign  of  Charles 
II.  (born,  July  21,  1644,  either,  it  would  appear,  at 
Wimborne  in  Dorsetshire,  or  in  or  near  London)  attracted 
the  notice  of  a  noble  patron  while  still  at  school  at 
Westminster,  under  the  famous  Dr  Busby.  The  earl  of 
Dorset  was  with  a  party  at  the  tavern,  and  the  school- 
boy was  called  in  to  decide  some  debate  that  had  arisen 
about  a  passage  in  Horace.  According  to  the  story.  Prior 
acquitted  himself  so  well  that  the  earl,  the  Mfecenas  of  his 
generation,  at  once  undertook  to  send  him  to  Cambridge, 
and  he  was  entered  at  St  John's  in  1682.  As  it  happened 
a  fellow  schoolboy  at  Westminster  was  Charles  Montague, 
who  afterwards  became  earl  of  Halifax.  The  two  con- 
tinued comrades  at  Cambridge,  and  together  wrote  in  1687 
the  City  Mouse  and  Country  Mouse,  in  ridicule  of  Dryden's 
Hind  and  Panther.  It  was  an  age  when  satirists  were  in 
request,  and  sure  of  patronage  and  promotion.  The  joint 
production  made  the  fortune  of  both  authors.  Montague, 
who  was  an  earl's  grandson,  was  promoted  at  once,  and 
Prior  had  to  languish  only  three  years  as  a  fellow  of  his 
college  when  he  was  gazetted  secretary  to  the  embassy  at  The 
Hague.  After  four  years  of  this  employment  he  was  re- 
called to  England,  and  appointed  one  of  the  gentlemen  of 
the  king's  bedchamber.  Apparently  also  he  acted  as  one  of 
the  king's  secretaries,  and  in  1697  he  was  secretary  to  the 
plenipotentiaries  who  concluded  the  peace  of  Rysw-ick. 
Prior's  talent  for  affairs  was  doubted  by  Pope,  who  had  no 
special  means  of  judging,  but  it  is  not  likely  that  King 
William  would  have  employed  in  this  important  business  a 
man  who  had  not  given  proof  of  diplomatic  skill  and  grasp  of 
details.  The  poet's  knowledge  of  French  is  specially  men- 
tioned among  his  qualifications,  and  this  was  recognized  by 
his  being  sent  in  the  same  year  to  Paris  in  attendance  on 
the  English  ambassador.  At  this  period  Prior  could  say 
with  good  reason  that  "he  had  business  enough  upon 
his  hands  and  was  only  a  poet  by  accident."  To 
poetry,  however,  which  had  laid  the  foundation  of  bis 
fortunes,  he  still  occasionally  trusted  as  a  means  of 
maintaining  his  position,  and  composed  odes  on  various 
public  events  that  required  celebration.  His  wit  made 
him  a  favourite  as  a  member  of  the  English  legation 
at  Paris,  although  he  used  it  sometimes  in  a  patriotic 
ftianner  at  the  expense  of  the  French.  After  his  return 
from  France,  and  a  brief  tenure  of  other  offices,  Prior 
succeeded  Locke  as  a  commissioner  of  trade.  In  1701  he 
sat  in  parliament  for  East  Grinstead.  About  the  same 
time  for  some  undiscovered  reason  he  changed  his  side  in 
politics,  and  allied  himself  with  Harloy  and  St  John. 
Perhaps  in  consequence  of  this  for  nine  years  there  is  no 
mention  of  his  name  in  connexion  with  any  public  trans- 
action. But  when  the  Tories  came  into  power  in  1710 
Frior's  diplomatic  abilities  were  again  called  into  action, 
and  till  the  death  of  Anne  he  held  a  prominent  place  in 
all  negotiations  with  the  French  court,  sometimes  as 
secret  agent,  sometimes  in  an  equivocal  position  as  am- 
bassador's companion,  sometimes  as  fully  accredited  but 
■very  unpunctualiy  paid  ambassador.  From  this  greatness 
the  poet  had  a  sudden  fall  v.'hcn  the  queen  died  and  the 


Whigs  regained  power.  He  was  considered  of  sufficient 
consequence  not  to  be  allowed  to  escape  into  obscurity. 
He  was  specially  examined  by  a  committee  of  the  privy 
council,  and  kept  in  close  custody  for  three  years. 
During  this  imprisonment,  maintaining  his  cheerful  philo- 
sophy, he  wrote  his  longest  humorous  poem,  Alvia,  or  The 
Progress  of  the  Mind.  This,  along  with  his  most  am- 
bitious work  Solomon,  and  a  collection  of  Poems  on  several 
Occasions,  was  published  by  subscription  in  1718.  The 
poet  did  not  long  survive  his  enforced  retirement  from 
public  life,  although  he  bore  his  ups  and  downs  with  rare 
equanimity.  He  died  at  Wimpole,  Cambridgeshire,  a  seat 
of  the  earl  of  Oxford,  September  18,  1721,  and  was  buried 
in  Westminster  Abbey,  where  his  monument  may  be  seen  ia 
Poets'  Corner.  Prior  had  very  much  the  same  easy  pleasure- 
loving  disposition  as  Chaucer,  combined  with  a  similar 
capacity  for  solid  work.  Johnson  lays  stress  with  justice  on 
the  variety  and  the  uniform  excellence  of  Prior's  poetry. 
This  distinction  may  fairly  be  claimed  for  a  poet  who  has 
received  the  enthusiastic  praise,  in  different  views  of  his 
work,  of  two  men  so  different  as  Johu  Wesley  and  Iilr 
Swinburne.  Prior  tried  many  kinds  of  grave  and  gay,  and 
in  the  face  of  such  testimony  it  would  seem  as  if  we  ought 
to  reconsider  Johnson's  verdict  that  he  never  rises  high 
above  mediocrity  in  any  kind.  Johnson  might  have  been 
more  lenient  to  Prior's  love-verses  if  he  had  not  made  so 
much  use  in  them  of  classical  fictions.  This  was  the  one 
thing  that  the  great  critic  would  on  no  account  tolerate ; 
frigid  allusions  to  Venus,  Cupid,  Diana,  Ganymede,  and  such 
like  "easy  fictions  and  vulgar  topics,"  put  him  out  of  temper 
at  once,  and  excluded  the  unlucky  composition  from  all 
cltance  of  fair  consideration  at  his  hands.  The  truth  was 
that  what  Johnson  desiderated  in  love-verses  was  honest 
fervent  passion.  He  had  no  taste  for  such  elegant  trifling 
as  the  poems  in  playful  praise  of  Cloe.  Even  the  pretty 
compliments  in  the  love-letter  to  the  lady, of  quality  aged 
five  would  not  have  moved  him  to  any  ecstasy  of  admira- 
tion "  Whatever  Prior  obtains  above  mediocrity,"  he 
says,  "  seems  the  effort  of  struggle  and  of  toil.  He  has 
many  vigorous  but  few  happy  lines ;  he  has  everything  by 

purchase,  and  nothing  by  gift His  expression  has 

every  mark  of  laborious  study ;  the  line  seldom  seems  to 
have  been  formed  at  once ;  the  words  did  not  come  till  they 
were  called,  and  were  then  put  by  constraint  into  their 
places,  where  they  do  their  duty,  but  do  it  sulk;nly.''| 
This  criticism  is  too  unqualified.  It  applies  very  happily 
to  many  of  Prior's  verses,  but  not  to  Prior  at  his  liest,; 
and,  even  when  ho  is  at  his  worst,  it  strikes  us  that  the 
failure  is  rather  owing  to  his  not  having  laboured  long 
enough  to  conceal  the  labour.  If  Prior  has  nothing  by 
gift,  it  is  equally  true — and  Johnson  admits  this  also — i 
that  he  has  nothing  by  theft.  He  is  eminently  original, 
and  this  will  probably  help  to  keep  his  reputation  alivq 
with  students  of  poetry  for  a  very  long  time.  There  is  a 
fresh  intellectual  force  and  a  pregnancy  of  thought  in  his 
writing  that  has  made  Prior  exceedingly  serviceable  read- 
ing for  subsequent  poets,  and  there  are  some  of  his  shor* 
poems  in  which  every  stanza  has  been  the  cause  of  happy 
thought  and  perfect  expression  in  his  successors.  "  Prior 
is  a  lady's  book,"  Johnson  once  said  to  Boswell.  He  might 
have  said  with  more  propriety  that  Prior  is  a  poet's  book 
— a  very  good  book,  not  exactly  to  steal  from,  but  to  get' 
stimulus  from.  (w.  m.) 

PRISCIAN  (Priscianus  C^sariensis),  the  most  cele- 
brated Latin  grammarian,  lived  about  500  a.d.,  i^  some- 
what before  Justinian.  This  is  shown  by  the  facts  tliat  he 
addressed  to  Anastasius,  emperor  of  the  F^st  491-518,  a 
laudatory  poem,  and  that  the  MSS.  of  his  I>islitutione.i 
Gravimaticx  contain  a  subscription  to  the  effect  that  the 
work  was  copied  (026,  527)  by  Klav.  Thcodorus,  a  clerk  io 


744 


P  R  I  S  C  I  A  N 


the  imperial  secretariat  ( "  memorialis  sacri  scrinii  episto- 
larum").  Threeminor  treatises  are  dedicated  to  Symmachus 
{the  father-in-law  of  Boetius).  Cassiodorus,  writing  in 
the  ninety-third  year  of  his  age  (560  ?  573  1),  heads  some 
extracts  from  Priscian  with  the  statement  that  he  taught 
at  Constantinople  in  his  (Cassiodor's)  time  (Keil,  Gr. 
Lat.,  vii.  p.  207).  His  title  Cxsariensis  points,  accord- 
ing to  Niebuhr  and  others,  to  Csesarea  in  Mauretania. 
Priscian's  teacher  was  Theoctistus,  "noster  prseceptor, 
omnis  eloquentiae  decus,  cui  quicquid  in  me  sit  doctrinie 
post  deum  imputo"  {Inst.  Gr.,  vi.  51),  who  also  wrote  an 
InstituHo  artis  grammaticx  (ibid.,  xviii.  56).  A  later  gram- 
marian, Eutyches,  pays  Priscian  himself  a  still  higher  com- 
pliment—"dc  quibus  Komanse  lumea  facundiae,  mens, 
immo  communis  omnium  horainum,  prseceptor,  surama 
cum  subtilitate  copiosissime  grammaticus  Priscianus  disser- 
uisse  cognoscitur  "  (Eutych.,  i.  8  ;  Keil,  Gr.  Lat,  v.  p.  456). 
Priscian  was  quoted  by  several  writers  in  Britain  of  the 
8th  century — Aldhelm,  Bede,  Alcuin — and  was  abridged  or 
largely  used  in  the  next  century  by  Hrabanus  Maurus  of 
Fulda  and  Servatus  Lupus  of  Ferrara.  Of  the  general  use 
made  of  his  great  work  the  best  proof  is  that,  as  Hertz 
says,  there  is  hardly  a  library  in  Europe  that  did  not  and 
does  not  contain  a  copy,  and  that  there  are  now  about  a 
thousand  MSS.  of  it.  The  greater  part  of  these  contain 
only  books  i-xvi.  (sometimes  called  Prisciamis  major);  z,- 
few  contain  (with  the  three  books  Ad  Symmachuni)  books 
xvii.,  xviii.  (Priscianus  minor) ;  and  a  few  contain  both 
parts.  The  earliest  MSS.  are  of  the  9th  century,  though 
a  few  fragments  are  somewhat  earlier.  All  are  ultimately 
derived  from  the  copy  made  by  Theodorus.  The  first 
printed  edition  was  in  1470  at  Venice.  It  may  fairly  be 
said  that  from  the,  beginning  of  the  6th  century  until 
recently  Priscian  has  reigned  over  Latin  grammar  with 
almost  as  generally  recognized  an  authority  as  Justinian 
has  over  Koman  law.  Some  account  of  so  remarkable  a 
treatise  may  reasonably  be  required. 

The  Institiitiones  Grammaticx  is  a  systematic  exposition 
of  Latin  grammar,  dedicated  to  Julian,  consul  and  patri- 
cian, whom  some  have  identified  with  the  author  of  a  well- 
known  epitome  of  Justinian's  Novelise,  but  the  lawyer 
appears  to  be  somewhat  later  than  Priscian.  In  length 
the  treatise  is  about  twice  the  size  of  Quintilian's  Institufio 
Oratovia,  and  about  equal  to  Madvig's  Latin  Grammar. 
It  is  divided  into  eighteen  books,  of  which  the  first  sixteen 
deal  mainly  with  sounds,  word-formation,  and  inflexions, 
the  last  two,  which  form  from  a  fourth  to  a  third  of  the 
whole  work,  deal  with  syntax.  Priscian  informs  us  in 
his  preface  that  he  has  translated  into  Latin  such  pre- 
cepts of  the  Greeks  Herodian  and  Apollonius  as  seemed 
suitable,  and  added  to  them  from  Latin  grammarians. 
Of  the  latter  he  occasionally  refers  to  Caper,  Donatus, 
Probus,  and  Servius ;  and  more  rarely  to  Cha,risius,  Dio- 
medes,  Asper,  Nonius,  Remmius  Palremon,  and  others. 
He  proceeds  in  orderly  and  almost  exhaustive  fashion, 
though  with  some  digressions  and  repetitions,  gives  defini- 
tions, rules,  examples,  and  exceptions,  and  constantly 
quotes  passages  from  various  writers  to  illustrate  the  use 
of  a  form.  He  has  thus  preserved  to  us  numerous  frag- 
ments which  would  otherwise  have  been  lost,  e.g.,  from 
Eunius,  Pacuvius,  Attius,  Lucilius,  Cato,  and  Varro.  But 
the  authors  whom  he  quotes  most  frequently  are  Virgil, 
and,  next  to  him,  Terence,  Cicero,  Plautua ;  then  Lucan, 
Horace,  Juvenal,  Sallust,  Statins,  Ovid,  Livy,  and  Persius. 
His  industry  in  collecting  forms  and  examples  is  both 
gi-eat  and  methodical.  His  style  is  somewhat  heavy,  but 
sensible  and  clear ;  it  has  not  the  admirable  grace  of  Quin- 
tilian,  nor  the  adroit  use  of  a  technical  language  such  as  is 
found  in  the  Pioman  jurists  ;  but  there  is  no  attempt  at  fine 
writing,  and  it  is  free  not  of  course  from  usages  of  Jnte 


Latin,  but  from  anything  that  can  be  called_  barbarism. 
Considering  the  time  at  which  it  was  written,  it  is  very 
creditable  to  the  author,  and  not  unworthy  of  the  high  place 
it  obtained  in  the  grammatical  world.  Its  defects  are  such 
as  were  till  lately  common  more  or  less  to  all  grammars. 

These  defects  may  be  referred  in  the  main  to.  ■  four 
heads.  (1)  Priscian*  avowedly  treats  Greek  writers  on 
(Greek)  grammar  as  his  supreme  authorities  (<•/.  L  13;  vL 
1 ;  xii.  13,  &c.),  and,  though  noticing  differences  between 
the  two  languages,  bears  too  little  in  mind  that  each  has 
a  history  of  its  own  and  is  a  law  to  itself.  (2)  There  had 
been  no  scientific  study  of  phonetics,  and  consequently  the 
changes  and  combinations  of  languages  are  treated  in  a 
mechanical  way:  e.g.,  i  passes  into  a,  as  genus,  generis, 
generatum ;  into  o  as  saxi,  saxosus  (i.  33) ;  q  passes  into  s 
as  torqueo,  torsi  (i.  48),  &c.  (3)  The  resolution  of  a  word 
into  root  or  stem  and  inflexional  or  derivative  affixes  was 
an  idea  wholly  unknown,  and  the  rules  of  formation  are 
often  based  on  unimportant  phenomena,  and  yet  are 
invested  with  an  authority  which  is  irrational  and  mis- 
leading :  e.g.,  Venus,  like  other  names  ending  in  ws,  ought 
to  have  genitive  Veni,  but,  as  this  might  be  taken  for  a 
verb,  it  has  Venei-is  (vi.  86 ;  viii.  5).  Ador  has  no  geni- 
tive because  two  rules  conflict ;  for  neuteis  in  or  have  a 
short  penult  (e.g.,  sequor,  eequoris),  and  adoro,  from  which 
it  is  derived,  has  a  long  penult  (vi.  49  ;  viii.  6).  (4)  The 
practical  meaning-  of  the  inflexions  is  not  realized,  and 
syntactical  usages  are  treated  as  if  they  were  arbitrary  or 
accidental  associations.  Thus,  after  laying  down  as  a 
general  rule  for  declinable  words  that,  when  they  refer  to 
one  and  the  same  person,  they  must  have  the  same  case, 
gender,  and  number,  Priscian  adds,  that  when  there  are 
transitive  words  we  may  use  different  numbers,  as  doceo 
discipidos,  docemtis  discipuluni  (xvii.  153-155).  He  often 
states  a  rule  too  broadly  or  narjowly,  and  then,  as  it  were, 
gropes  after  restrictions  and  extensions. 

His  etymologies  are  of  course  sometimes  very  wild  :  e.g., 
cxlebs  from  cselestium  vitam  ducens,  b  being  put  for  « 
because  a  consonant  cannot  be  put  before  another  conson- 
ant (i.  23) ;  deterior  from  the  verb  detero,  deteris ;  potior 
(adj.)  from  potior,  potiris  (iii.  3) ;  arbor  from  robur  (vi. 
48) ;  verbum  from  verberatus  aeris  (viii.  1),  (fee.  Nor  is  he 
always  right  in  Greek  usages :  thus,  in  illustrating  Latin 
moods  by  Greek  he  frequently  uses  the  future  optative 
with  S.V,  e.g.,  ckSvctoivto  av,  irio-revcrot/ii  av  (xviii.  106),  and 
still  more  strangely  treats  apa  as  identical  in  force  with 
av,  e.g.,  quasi  tolleretur  ac  constitueretur,  ivalpoiTO  av  koI 
KaTaTaTToiTo  apa,  and  misuses  both  particles,  e.g.,  in  me 
causam  conferebat  quod  eum  codicem  obsignnssem,  Icn^payiixa 
av  fiTOi  icr4>payiKu>9  eirjv  apa  (xviii.  110).  He  evidently 
regarded  av  or  apa  as  normally  required  with  the  Greek 
optative  or  other  moods  corresponding  to  the  Latin  sub- 
junctive (xviii.  117,  (fee). 

A  rapid  notice  of  the  order  and  of  some  salient  points  will  show 
both  merits  and  defects  in  the  treatment  of  his  subject-matter. 
The  references  are  to  the  book  and  to  Krehl's  paragraphs. 

Book  i.  treats  of  vocal  sound  and  of  letters,  their  changes  and  com- 
binations. Elementa  are  vowels,  semi-vowels,  or  mutes.  Vowels 
are  named  from  their  own  sound  ;  semi-vowels  sound  a  vowel 
btforo  them  ;  mutes  sound  a  vowel  after  them  (L  7).  As  semi- 
vowels he  classes/,  I,  m,  n,  r,  s,  x,  and  in  Greek  names  z.  F  vms, 
among  the  earliest  Lat'ns,  the  .^olic  digatnnia,  but  afterwards  was 
equivalent  to  ^.  It  is,  however,  rather  a  mute,  because  it  is  not 
found  at  the  end  of  a  word,  and  can  be  placed  before  I  and  r  in  tb# 
same  syllable  [ib.  13).  S  is  quite  superfluous ;  g  merely  shows  that 
a  u  following  has  no  metrical  effect ;  A  is  a  mere  aspiration  ;  i  and 
u  sometimes  pass  into  consonants,  and  then  have  a  difl"erent  metri- 
cal effect  from  what  they  have  as  vowels  {ib.  14-17).  Z>  has  often 
the  sound  ot  z  :  e.g.,  in  meridies,  hodie  (ib.  31). 

Bookii.  treats  of  the  syllable  and  of  the  letters  used  toendit, 
then  of  the  parts  of  speech.  A  syllable  is  an  ordered  combiuation 
of  letters  uttered  with  one  accent  and  one  breath  (ii  1).  A  won* 
[didio)  is  the  unit  of  orderly  speech  (ib.  14).  Speech  ioratio)  is  a 
suitable  arrangement  of  words  c^xiressing  A  complete  meaning  (tJ. 


PRISCIAN 


745 


151  The  parts  ot  speech  are,  according  to  Pnsciafl,  eight,  viz., 
loan  yerb,%articiple,  pronoun,  preposition,  adverb,  .ntenect.on 
Tn-^nnction  Infinites  (i.e.,  infinitive  moods)  are  included  under 
rteCrb  be'cause  they  have' tenses  and  no  cases  "  P-ticples  are 
not  Muded,  because  they  have  cases  and  genders  but  "o-nioods  (r6 
?8  Priseian  obtains  a  framework  for  the  arrangement  of  his  facts 
f„Vn   *>,«    "accidents"  of  each   part  of  speech,  and  subordinate 

L"ificattons  are  taken  from  the^ndings'^of  the  words.  Nou^ 
We  the  following  accidents  -.-species,  genus,  numcrm,  figura 
«^^  As  regards  specie,  ("class")  nouns  are  proper  or  appel- 
S  and  eacl  of  these  classes  are  subdivided  into  many  otlie.^. 
Ad  ec  ives  are  (rightly)  treated  by  Priscian  in  common  with  other 
m-uns  (ii  22  4-)  The  rest  of  this  book  and  books  ui.  and  iv 
treat  of  the  formation  of  the  dilferent  classes  of  nouns,  e.g  o( 
patronyniics,  possessives,  comparatives,  superlatives,  diminutives, 
?nd  orter  derfvatives.  Book  v.  treats  of  gender,  number,  figure, 
and  case  For  gender,  nouns  are  discussed  by  their  endings. 
F°gur?is  either  simple  or  composite  or  decomposite  (».e.  derivative 
from  composite),  as,  magmts,  magnanimus,  nuignammitas  (v.  61). 
ThSe  are  four  mod  s  of  compisition  -.-(I)  ex  duobusvUegns,  as 
tribZ^lebis  ;  (2)  ex  duobuseorruptis,  as  be,uvoh^  ;  (3)  ex  intcgro 
Tc^o    e.g,  Lmicus^   (4)  ex  eorrupto  el  inlegro,  as   xvipins 

t.S^)^  There  'are  six  cas'es:  thus  arranged  :-(l)  the  Bora.native 
L  the  original ;  (2)  the  genitive  because  it  is  ^o™  f™^  the  nomin- 
aHve  and  begets  the  other  oblique  cases ;  (3)  the  dative,  qui 
magis  amicis  c°onvenit;"  (4)  the  accusative,  "  ^^  "^ff  ,^f Z"™;™ 
attinet ;"  (5)  the  vocative  as  the  most  imperfect  •  (6)  the  ablative 
'^  now  and  peculiar  to  the  Latins  (v.  74^  In  book  vi.  the  for- 
mation of  tlFe  genitive  is  discussed,  each  nominative  termination 
^in"  taken  in  order,  irrespective  of  the  declension.  Book  vii 
Ss  of  the  other  cases  in  each  of  the  five  dec  ensions      Neither 

heTe  nor  i!;  the  books  on  the  verb  are  ^"1' f^'^T'ltTl'bols 

modern  grammars.     Hie,  hujus,  &c.,  are  often  prefixed  as  symbols 

"^iooks'viil-rdeal  with  the  verb.  Verbshave  eightaccidents:- 
genus,  Umpus,  modus,  spceies  Jigum  eonjugatio,  ^"If^'^'"'""/^""; 
Some  verbs  (as  other  ptvrts  of  speech)  are  defective  either  ^  natural 
necessity  or  by  chance.  Necessity  may  he  in  the  meaning  {e.g., 
IZrpen^  is  not  found)  or  in  the  incompatibility  of  sound  (e.^., 
cursor  but  not  ciirsrix).  Chance  may  he  simply  m  non-use  e.?., 
/W„r  r>rex  dicio  for,  dor ;  or  because  the  form  would  be  un- 
&nT"V.  wA'"^«"«  or'nuluiturus.  nutritrix(hom^  nutritor) 
for  which  nulrix  is  used.  Sometimes  a  word  is  not  used  m  order  to 
avoid  confusion,  e.g.,  conjunx  has  eonjugis,  lest  conjungts  should  be 
taken  for  a  verb  ;  maneo  has  mmisi,  not  manui ;  fax,  due  avoid  con- 
fusion with  ablatives /(ici;,  dute,  &c.  (vui.  4-6). 

Oenus  or  significalio  verbi  is  its  being  active  or  passive.     Verbs 
in  0  are  active,  neuter,  and  neutro-passfve,  e.g.,  amo  spiro,  gawieo 
ter  xi   28)      Verbs  in  or  are  passive,  common,  and  deponent,  e.g., 
Vnior:oseulor  U  and  U  te,  sequor.    Verbs  whose  meaning  and  "se  do 
not  correspond  with  the  form  are  enumerated  (i6   ^f9)■  JT^f 
U  present,  past,  and  future.     Past  time  is  divided  into  past  imper- 
fect  past  perfect,  past  pluperfect.     Present  and    uture  time  are  not 
Svided   by  the  Romans  (ib.  33).     Bi^ro  is  called     he   subjunc- 
tive future  (ib.  55,.  57).     The  indicative  and  subjunctive  have  all 
Tenses;  the  imper:iidve  has  present,  future,  and   in  passive,  a  past 
(e  a     amatus  sit).     The  optative  and  infinite  have  one  form  ex- 
prfs^ingboth  present  and 'past  imperfect,  and  another  expressing 
perfect  and  pluperfeot  {ib.  38-43).     The  present  tense  embraces  to 
^me  extent  both   paet  and  future   {e.g.,  Friscianus  vocor    seribo 
J^°m)      The   per/ect   corresponds  to  Greek  aorist  as  well  as  to 
Set   i>  61^54).     Priscian  makes  five  moods,-the  optative  same 
informs  as  the'subjunCtive)  always  requiring  an  adverb  of  ^y'^hing; 
the  subjunctive,  requiring  not  only  an  adverb  or  conjunction   but 
also  another  verb,  e.g.,  eumfc^am  vemio.    .1  Y^P,^^!?'°°^  £,  ?„^3 
mand,  as  ne  dicas,  another  verb  is  not  required  (t6.  68).  _  bumnes 
and   gerunds   (sometimes   confused,   sometimes   distinguished,   by 
Priscian)  are  nouns  used  in  place  of  the  infinite.    Arnandus,  &.C. ,  is 
cM^i  pLticipiale  or  ^wr,^enverbale  {ib.  44,  70).     Impersonal  verbs 
have  a  peculiar  meaning  (tJ.  69).  ,    .     ,.      -r-  „    •     ••„„„   „>o 

In  cLs  verbs  are  primitive  or  d'riva  ive.  Dor.yatives  are 
numerously  classified  as  inchoaUves,  frenuentatives,  &c.  (ift.  7-  sq.J. 
?ng. re  verbs  are  simple  or  compound  {ib.  SI).  X^onju-ations  in 
Latin  are  determined  by  the  vowel  of  the  2nd  person,  and  are  thus 
four  only,  while  the  Greeks  have  ten.  Person  and  number  cose 
the  eighth  book.  Pcro,  volo,  cdo  are  specially  treated  d''-  ^-y'- 
The  formation  of  the  perfect  is  first  treated  generally  (ix.  13)./°d 
then  the  pcrfect3  and  supines  of  1st  and  2nd  conjugations  and  (in 
book  X.)  of  3rd  and  4th  conjugations.  .         t  j  i„  „„t  „« 

Book  xi.  deals  with  participles,  which  were  invented  to  act  as 
/«bs  applied  to  nouns,  especially  in  oblique  cases.  Hence  wo  can 
WLV  not  only  bwus  homo  loquebatur  but  bom  homims  loquenJis 
;/cUumcm  audivi,  &c.  (xi.  3).  The  participle  has  six  ^"dents  :- 
ai:n<is.  casus,  signiiimlio,.tcmpus,  numerus,  piura  {ib.  i.5),--wnero 
i/cnu^  is  gender,  and  sigmficatio  ar^i.  figura  have  same  application 
as  in  verbs.  Tlie  formation  of  the  participles,  especially  of  tbo 
vast  particiole,  is  fully  discussed. 


Books  xii.  and  xui.  deal  with  pronouns.  They  have  »«  »<^ 
dents  -.—species,  persona,  genus,  numerus,  figura,  casus,  inero 
are  four  declensions,  viz.,  personal,  ille,  &c.,  meus,  &c.,  nosras  &0. 
Priscian  classes  as  nouns,  and  not  as  pronouns,  9UW,suaIw,  talis, 
quantus,  tantus,  tot,  unus,  solus,  totus,  alius,  nullus,  uter,  alUr,  and 
their  compounds  (xiii.  11,  29-35).  ,    -,  .    .      .   „. 

H.ivin "finished  the  four  declinablffipaxts  of  speech,  Pnscian  turns 
to  the  four  indeclinable.  Preposirions  (book  xiv. )  are  (except  some- 
times in  verse)  put  before  nouns  both  by  apposition  arid  com- 
position ;  before  pronouns  only  by  apposition  ;  before  all  else  by 
composition'  (xiv.  8).  He  treats  first  of  prepositions  used  with  tho 
accusative  case,  then  of  those  used  with  the  ablative,  and  lastly  of 
those  occurring  only  in .  composition.  Adverbs  (book  P-)  have 
species,  signifitatio,  figura.,  where  spates  refers  to  their  being  piim  - 
tive  or  derivative,  and  significalio  to  their  meaning  as  temporal, 
local,  confirmative,  optative,  &c.  Some  are  used  with  all  tensej 
and  moods,  others  with  some  only.  They  are  arranged  for  discis- 
sion under  their  endings  {ib.  7).  Under  the  endmgs  in  a  are  treated 
also  ablatives  of  nouns  used  as  adverbs,  e.g.,  una,  qua,  ■«<»"«.  and 
also  other  local  uses  of  nouns,  e.g.,  Fom^sum  Romam  co  &c.  (.6  9). 
Interjections  are  separated  from  adverbs  by  Roman  writers,  because 
they  express  fully  an  emotion  of  the  mind  <;.?.,|a;;*,  ?»!<^J''^^'". 
where  w^  =  miror(t6.  40).  Conjunctions  have /gum  and  j.n«, 
s^eaes  denoting  meaning  and  use  as  copulative  causal,  disjunctive, 
&c.     Some  conjunctions  belong  to  several  of  these  classes. 

The  two  books  on  syntax  are  looser  ">  arrangemen  and  are  not 
so  clear  and  exhaustive  as  the  former  books.  Tie  truth  '3,  Priscian 
lacked  a  good  framework  for  the  facts  of  construction,  and  first  tnes 
one  and  then  another.  The  seventeenth  book  rests  manly  on 
Apollonius  :  the  eighteenth  is  less  dependent  on  him,  and  ends  'r  ith 
a  ?ong  miscellaneous  list,  in  alphabetical  order,  of  Greek  idioms 
chiefly  verbal,  which  he  compares  with  corresponding  Latin  usages 
Part  of  this  lit  occurs  twice  over.  Omitting  duplicates  there  a  e 
nearly  300  such  comparisons.  Hertz  suggests  (Prxf  m.  p.  vii.) 
that  it  was  only  closed  by  the  fortunate  occurrence  of  X»P|raCoQ 
illustrated  bv  a  line  of  Terence  which  ended  with  saiurj  inese 
tms  are  illustrated  by  copious  quotations  from  Demosthenes  and 
Plato,  and  not  a  few  from  Homer,  Herodotus,  Thuc)diJcs,  and 
Xenophon,  besides  Latin  authors.  „„„(.„ 

The  syntax  commences  with  showing  the  analogy  of  elements, 
words,  and  speech.     In  each  of  these  we  have  repetition,  omission, 
rnju^ction,  transposition,  &c.   (xvii.  3  sq.)      Then  Priscian  d^- 
cus  es  why  interrogatives  are  aU  of  two  parts  of  speech  onljS  v .  . 
nouns  and  adverbs  {ib.  22)  :  why  not  also  verbs  (»6.  36) !     He  dis- 
cusses the  difi-erence  of  pronouns  from  one  another,  their  use  witH 
impe^onals,  particnlarl/ini^-e.f,  referl  {ib.  92)   the  use  of  the  pos- 
sessive and  reflexive   pronouns.     He   says  that  „<eiagcr  may  b9 
used  for  meus  ager,  hut  also  for  "the  land  of  my  husband     (i6. 
129    130)      There  are  many  possible  unions  and  interchanges  of 
different  parts  of  speech  and  of  their  accidents      Such  unions  as 
iUeegoqui  quondam,  &c.,  are  justified  analogically  ^Y  the  union  of 
diff-ereut  cales,  e.g.,  animalium  qusedam  sunt  mortaha,  or  bj  the 
fiTe  of  compounds  from  different  cases,  ^smcd,tcrrane.cs  a  vudo 
terrmHb   144-152).     Dififerent  numbers  and  genders  are  combined 
17parsse^nt;  apenie  aliquis;  in  Eur^uchumsuam,  or  d.M 
casfs,  as  urbem  qLm  statuo  vestra  est ;  or  different   -mes,  as  ^o.  - 
auam  eecidit .  .  .  lUon  et  omnis  humo  fumat  Troja  {ib   lf>o-lbi). 
Sften  Tfind  interchange,  e.g.,  of  parts  of  speech,  as  subh^^  {volas) 
for  an  adverb,  genus  unde  Latinum  for  ex  quo,  ic   {>b.  168). 

In  the  eighteenth  book  he  discusses  the  use  of  the  cases      The 
nominative  and  vocative  are   absolute,  and  with  substantival   or 
vratival  verbs  of  the  first  or  second  P^-'toV'-';!  nth"er  v    2s  they 
pronoun,  e.g.,  homo  sum,  Cicero  nommor,  but  with  other  veibs  they 
lo,eg.    ego  'Prisciamts  'seribo,  tu  Apolloni,^  (or  ^i'""»"i,)  .'f"  "^ 
Tu  may  however,  bo  omitted  with  the  vocative,  but  ^"5 « "^ 
..n-i^'I'a  solecism,  becanso  nouns  by  themselves  and  PaH'ciples 
without  tho  vocative  case,  are  of  the  third  Person  (.6.  2-4)j^  If  » 
noun  requires  an  oblique  case,  we  must  have  "l«.^'"^^^^;^''T;"^7,^ 
or  narticinle    e  a  ,  filius  Herculis  sum.     In  filius  Pelei  Achilles 
LLtftri.'th{participle  ens  ("for  which^.  now  use  7«v  « 
nr   n%ti   fuit")    must    be  understood  {tb.    6).      llio   nommauvu   i» 
j:in'ed\{"(ie'genitive  whoji  possession  and  a  Possessor  ar^ean^ 
In   Hector  filius  Priami  tho   genitive   denotes   the  TKme8Sor,m 
maqnm  virtulisvir  it  denotes  the  po.ssession.     1°  t''""'"',',^"  „;" 
Utins  often  have  tho  ablative,  as  they  have  also  for  the  Gre  k  gen  _ 
tive  of  consequence,  if^oi  (H.ro,  -,ne  »"~  ('*;.  V;.,,,i,'''i^^ 
tive  after  comparatives  and  superlatives  and.  ajt^r  verba  s  in  ^ 
and  -rue  is  mentioned  ;   also  such  usages  as  fida^  °"""  ';„!,  le^ 
lactU  (ib    18   19).     In  (foc(i«.  i/iamma(iwm  wo  have  a  participle  , 
'^docZ-g^ammltic  a  noun  (ib.  21).     The  daUve  -s  -ed  «cqui^- 

ob^u^r^sts %?:  must  undersUnd  qui  «'.  «;,«""  '"'"^^  'W 


74(3 


P  R  I  — P  R  I 


-=  equi  ejus  qui  est  alhi  eoloris  (ib.  27).  The  ablative  is  joined  to  , 
the  nominative  to  express  the  instrument,  the  possession,  the  con- 
sequence (see  above).  It  is  used  also  with  words  of  passive  mean- 
ing, e.g.,  iriduus  pharetra,  dignus  morte,  and  in  comparisons  (io. 
32).  .  He  then  proceeds  (in  awkward  language)  to  point  out  that 
the  nominative  wliich  is  joined  to  a  verb  remains  unchanged,  and 
either  takes  no  oblique  cases  of  another  declinabls  w'ord  or  only 
such  as  are  construed  \vith  the  verb,  e.g.,  Terentius  amhulat ;  Cxsar 
vincit  Pompeium  ;  pater  indulget  filio.  But  the.  nominative,  which 
in  consequence  of  the  nature  of  the  noun  itself  takes  oblique  cases, 
takes  those  cases,  be  its  own  case  what  it  may  ;  e.g.,  motor  Pmnpeii 
Ceesar  interfeclus  est  a  Bruto  ;  victoria  Pompeii  Csesaris  filia  fiiil 
Julia ;  vidori  Pompeii  Cmsari,  &c.  {ib.  35,  36).  Similarly  datives 
like  cures,  cordi,  &c.,  are  used  with  all  cases,  e.g.,  cordi  hominis  for 
jucundi.kominis  {ib.  38;  xi.  24).  Prisciau  would  have  found  it 
difficult  to  give  an  instance  of  this. 

The  syntax  of  the  verb  follows.  The  infinite  is  t^ken  first  as  the 
most  general.  Infinites  are  often  joined  to  nouns,  e.g.,  bonum  est 
legere,  and,  by  a  beautiful  figure,  to  adjectives,  e.g.,fortis  bellare ; 
also  to  verbs  and  participles  (xvui.  40-46).  All  verbs  may  be 
resolved  into  infinites,  e.g.,  ambu'o  =  dico  me  ambulare,  scribebam 
=  scribere  c(epi.  Hence  caspit  was  sometimes  omitted,  e.g.,  ego  illud 
sedulo  negare  factum  {ib.  48).  Participials  and  supines  have  the 
same  case  as  the  verb  ;  verbal  nouns  in  -dits  have  the  same  case  as 
the  nouns  to  which  they  are  joined  {ib.  61-63).  All  transitive  verbs 
are  joined  either  to  a  genitive  or  dative  or  accusative  or  ablative, 
e.g.,  egeo  tui,  insidior  tibi,  &c.  Similarly  participials  or  supines, 
e.g.,  misermdo  tui  moveor,  nocitum  tibi  propero,  nocitu  tibi  gaudet 
{ib.  61).     An  instance  of  the  last  would  be  hard  to  find. 

The  uses  of  indicative,  imperative,  and  optative  moods  are  briefly 
treated.  The  subjunctive,  which  is  the  same  in  form  as  the 
optative  {ib.  82),  requires  always  to  be  joined  to  another  mood  or  to 
another  verb  of  the  same  mood.  It  is  especially  frequent  with  si, 
when  expressing  doubt  and  put  for  idv  {ib.  80).  With  the  indica- 
tive si  used  for  tl  shows  confirmation  and  belief.  In  siqua  id/or- 
tuna  vetahit,  vetabit  is  put  vietri  gratia  for  vetet.  The  subjunctive 
expresses  doubt  or  approval  or  possibility,  e.  g. ,  doubt  in  eloquar  an 
sileam,  approval  in  si  non  pertscsum  thalami  tsedsoque  fuisset,  where 
fuisset  —  iy(i6v(i  Upa.  Ut  and  qui,  quse,  quod,  giving  a  reason 
or  expressing  a  doubt,  are  often  used  with  subjunctive  {ib.  82-93). 
In  discussing  v.t  for  Xvcl,  his  examples  carefully  give  the  same  tense 
of  the  principal  verb  (whether  indicative  or  subjunctive)  as  that  of 
the  dependent  subjunctive,  e.g.,  doces  ut  proficias,  doceres  ut  pro- 
ficercs,  docuisti  ut  pro/eceris,  docuisses  ut  profecisses,  doccbis  ut 
profeceris  (future  subjunctive).  But  he  also  notes  that  feirissem 
or  facerem  are  equally  right  with  nisi  impedires,  and  that  faciam 
01  fecero  is  used  with  either  nisi  impedias  or  impedires  {ib.  101- 
104). 

After  then  discussing  the  cases  used  after  veros  according  to  the 
meaning  of  the  verbs  as  transitive,  passive,  common,  absolute  («.?.,' 
rubeo  pudore),  or  expressing  various  affections  of  the  body  or  mind 
{ib.  127-167),  he  proceeds  to  the  long  list  of  idioms  spoken  of 
above. 

Priscian's  three  short  treatises  dedicated  to  Symmachus  are  on 
weights  and  measures,  the  metres  of  Terence,  and  some  rhetorical 
elements.  He  also  wrote  De  nomine,  pronomine,  et  verba  (an  abridg- 
ment ot  part  of  his  Institutiones),  and  an  interesting  specimen  of 
the  school  teaching  of  grammar  in  the  shape  of  complete  parsing  by 
question  and  answer  of  the  first  twelve  lines  of  the  .iSneid  {Par- 
titiones  xii.  versuum  .^neidos principalium).  The  metre  is  discussed 
first,  each  verse  is  scanned,  and  each  word  thoroughly  an4  instruct- 
ively examined.  Its  meaning,  its  form,  its  accent,  its  class,  its 
other  cases  or  tenses,  its  compounds  and  derivatives  are  all  required 
from  the  pupil,  as  well  as  the  rnles  to  which  they  ought  to  conform. 
Such  parsing,  rarely,  if  ever,  takes  place  in  modern  schools.  A 
treatise  on  accents  is  ascribed  to  Priscian,  but  is  rejected  by  modern 
writers  on  the  ground  of  matter  and  language.  He  also  wrote  two 
poems,  not  in  any  way  remarkable,  viz.,  a  panegyric  on  Anastasius 
in  312  hexameters  with  a  short  iambic  introduction,  and  a  faithful 
translation  into  1087  hexameters  of  Dionysius'e  Pcriegcsis  or  geogra- 
phical survey  of  the  world.  A  few  passages  have,  says  Bernhardy, 
been  altered  by  Priscian  on  account  of  their  heathen  contents. 

The  grammatical  treatises  have  been  criticallv  edited,  in  excellent  fashion.  In 
KeiVs  Onamrnatici  Zdit/ii,  vols.  ii.  and  iii.,  1S55-G0;  the  fnttiluliones  by  Martin 
Hei'tz  ;  and  t'.ie  smaller  treatises  by  Kell.  The  pooms  have  been  recently  edited 
by  BiUirens,  in  his  Poetx  Latiiu  Mitiores,  TOl.  v.,  1883.  (II.  J.  R.) 

PRISCILLIANISTS,  an  heretical  sect  which  rose  to 
some  prominence  in  Spain  towards  the  end  of  the  -ith 
century  and  continued-  to  subsist,  iri-  varying  numbers, 
there  and  in  Gaul,  until  after  the  middle  of  the  6th.  Its 
founder'  was  Priscillian,  a  wealthy  and  influential  layman 
of  coTkeiderable  reading  and  ability  who  had  devoted  his 
life  to  a  self-denying  study  of  the.  occult  sciences  and  the 
deeper  problems  of '  philosophy.  In  the  course  of  his 
speculations  he  came  under  the  influence  of  two  teachers. 


Elpidius  and  Agape,  who  professed  to  have  derived  their 
views  from  a  certain  Marcus,  a  native  of  Egypt  who  had  ^ 
settled  in  Spain.  The  creed  which  Priscillian  now  formu- 
lated appears  to  have  combined  various  features  of  Gnosti- 
cism and  Manicheeism :  he  seems,  for  example,  to  have  held 
the  theory  of  emanations — high  in  rank  among  these  being 
the  heavenly  powers  whom  he  called  by  the  name  of  the 
twelve  patriarchs,  and  brought  also  into  close  relation  with 
the  signs  of  the  zodiac— the  doctrine  of  the  demiurge,  the 
pre-existence  of  souls,  the  eternity  of  the  devil,  the  essen- 
tial sinfulness  of  the  flesh,  the  unlawfulness  of  procreation, 
and  the  like.  He  and  his  followers  retained  their  con- 
nexion with  the  Catholic  Church, — insisting,  however,  on 
fasting  on  Sundays,  and  refusing  the  bread  in  the  sacra- 
ment ;  but  they  also  held  separate  meetings  in  private 
at  which  they  were  accused  by  their  adversaries  (with 
what  truth  is  not  known)  of  practising  magic  and  indulg- 
ing in  licentious  orgies.  Many  women  joined  the  sect, 
and  among  the  more  prominent  of  its  converts  were 
two  bishops,  named  Instantius  and  Salvianus.  Bishop 
Hyginus  of  Cordova,  who  had  been  the  first  to  raise  the 
alarm  against  the  new  doctrines  and  practices,  himself 
soon  afterwards  joined  the  sect;  but  through  the  exer- 
tions of  Idacius  of  Emerita  the  leading  Priscillianists,  who 
had  failed  to  appear  before  the  synod  of  Spanish  and 
Aquitanian  bishops  to  which  they  had  been  summoned, 
were  excommunicated  at  Saragossa  in  October  380.  The 
same  synod  passed  certain  canons  against  the  heresy,  and 
Ithacius  of  Ossonuba  was  charged  with  the  publication  of 
its  decisions.  Meanwhile,  however,  Priscillian  was  made 
bishop  of  Avila,  and  the  orthodox  party  found  it  necessary 
to  appeal  to  the  emperor  (Gratian),  who  issued  an  edict 
threatening  the  sectarian  leaders  with  banishment.  Pris- 
cillian, Instantius,  and  Salvianus  now  passed  through 
Gaul  to  Italy  with  the  object  of  enlisting  the  sympathies 
of  Ambrose  of  Milan  and  Pope  Damasus,  but  without 
result.  They  succeeded,  however,  by  bribing  the  pro- 
consul, it  is  said,  in  procuring  the  withdrawal  of  Gratian's 
edict,  and  the  attempted  arrest  of  Ithacius.  With  the 
murder  of  Gratian  and  accession  of  Maximus  (383)  the 
aspect  of  matters  again  changed  ;  Ithacius  fled  to  Treves, 
and  in  consequence  of  his  representations  a  synod  was 
held  (38-t)  at  Bordeaux  where  Instantius  was  deposed, 
Priscillian  for  his  part  appealed  to  the  emperor,  with  the 
unexpected  result  that  along  with  six  of  his  companions 
he  was  condemned  to  death  and  executed  at  Treves  in 
385.  This  first  instance  of  the  application  of  the  Theo- 
dosian  law  against  heretics  caused  a  profound  sensation 
throughout  the  Catholic  world  ;  it  had  the  approval  of  the 
synod  which  met  at  Treves  in  the  same  year,  but  Ambrose 
of  Milan  and  Martin  of  Tours  can  claim  the  glory  of  having 
lifted  up  their  voices  against  it,  and  of  having  in  some 
measure  stayed  the  hand  of  persecution.  The  heresy, 
notwithstanding  the  severe  measures  taken  against  it,  cou- 
tinued  to  spread  in  Prance  as  well  as  in  Spain ;  and  the 
barbarian  invasions  of  the  5th  century  appear  to  have 
helped  its  further  diffusion.  About  444  it  attracted  the 
attention  of  Leo  I.  at  Rome,  along  with  other  forms 'of 
Manichffiism,  and  something  was  done  for  its  repression  by 
a  synod  held  at  the  pope's  instance  by  Tiirribius  of  Astorga 
in  446  and  by  that  of  Toledo  in  447;  as  an  openly  pro- 
fessed creed  it  wholly  disappeared  after  the  second  synod 
of  Braga  in  563. 

PRISHTINA,  or  Pristina,  a  town  of  European 
Turkey,  since  1877  at  the  head  of  a  liwa  in  the  vilayet  of 
Kossovo,  lies  on  an  aflluent  of  the  Sitnitza,  a  subtribut- 
ary  of  the  M6rava,  and  gives  its  name  to  one  of  tlie 
stations  on  the  Salonica-Uskub-Mitrowica  Railway,  which 
runs  at  a  distance  of  6  or  7  miles  to  the  west  of  the  town. 
It  stands  at  a  height  of  1700  ftiel  above  the  sea  en  undu- 


p  K  i  —  r  i{  1 


747 


lating  ground,  and  presents  in  thu  distance  a  pleasant 
appearance  with  the  minarets  erected,  ajcording  to  the 
legend,  by  Turkish  women  whose  husbands  fell  in  the 
battle  of  Kossovo  fought  in  the  neighbourhood.  Prishtina 
is  the  seat  of  a  Greek  bishop.  Its  population  is  estimated 
at  from  SOOO  to  10,000.  To  the  south-east  lies  the  partly 
ruined  monastery  of  Gratchanitza  founded  by  King  Milutin 
of  Servia,  who  reigned  from  1275  to  1321.  It  is  a  graceful 
fniilding  with  a  large  central  dome  surrounded  by  four 
smaller  domes  and  a  variety  of  arches,  of  which  the  higher 
are  pointec;!  and  the  lower  round.  Among  the  frescos  are 
jiortraits  of  the  founder  and  his  queen  Simonida,  daughter 
of  Andronicus  II.  Pala;ologus,  and  a  remarkable  head  of 
Christ  in  the  dome.  See  Mackenzie  and  Irby,  The  Slavonic 
Provinces  of  Turkey. 

PRISON  DISCIPLINE.  Authority  in  every  age  and 
in  every  country  has  claimed  to  impose  penalties  on  all 
who  offend  against  it.  Either  coercion  or  protection  has 
been  the  moving  principle  :  the  master  extorted  submis- 
sion, or  society,  through  its  rulers,  defended  itself  against 
evil  doers.  The  most  common  punishments  in  early  times 
were  naturally  those  most  easily  inflicted.  Offenders  paid 
in  their  persons  :  they  were  put  to  death  with  every  variety 
of  the  capital  sentence,  were  branded,  mutilated,  or  sold 
as  slaves.  They  were  fined  also,  were  degraded,  or  for- 
feited civil  rights,  or  yet  again  were  simply  banished  from 
their  homes.  Enforced  detention,  incarceration  within 
four  walls,  was  another  method  of  coercion  which  grew 
and  gained  favour  under  the  feudal  system.  The  lord 
temporal  or  spiritual  or  corporate  body  could  thus  hold 
the  vassal  safe  until  he  yielded  fealty  or  submitted  to 
extortion.  A  dungeon  told  no  tales,  and  served  conveni- 
ently to  bury  the  victims  of  mediceval  oppression.  The 
unrestrained  and  unjustifiable  eserciseof  the  power  to  im- 
prison lingered  long  in  lands  where  personal  liberty  was 
unknown  ;  nor  did  arbitrary  imprisonment  terminate  with 
the  destruction  of  the  Bastille.  In  England,  however,  free- 
dom from  illegal  arrest,  the  dearest  of  the  Briton's  pri- 
vileges, was  resolutely  fought  for  and  early  achieved.  The 
Great  Charters  conceded  it;  and,  although  often  in  danger, 
it  was  confirmed  finally  and  beyond  all  question  by  the 
Habeas  Corpus  Act  passed  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II. 
r>ut  the  theory  was  better  than  the  practice  :  numbers 
elways  languished  in  jail,  the  victims  of  needlessly 
severe  or  misinterpreted  law.s,  who  nowadays  would  have 
been  at  large.  Through  long  years  of  trouble  and  dis- 
quiet, when  the  country  was  torn  with  religious  and 
political  dissensions,  the  prisons  were  always  full.  Intoler- 
<vnce  appealed  to  the  .strong  arm,  and  the  jail  was  the 
Antechamber  of  the  scaffold  or  stake.  When  party  warfare 
ran  high,  when  kings  struggled  for  larger  powers  or  their 
ministers  and  myrmidons  ruled  with  a  high  hand,  incar- 
ceration was  the  easy  recompense  for  all  on  the  losing  side, 
'i'lio  commercial  laws  of  a  nation  wedded  to  trade  kept  a 
large  contingent  always  in  jail.  The  debtor  was  at  the 
mercy  of  his  creditor,  who  could  command  the  best  efforts  of 
the  law  to  assist  him  in  recovering  his  own  again.  Irregu- 
larity in  the  adminLstration  of  justice  contributed  largely 
to  fill  the  prisons.  Jail  deliveries  were  frequently  de- 
layed indefinitely;  while,  even  when  tardy  trial  ended  in 
an  acquittal,  release  was  not  always  accorded,  and  innocent 
men,  unable  to  meet  extortionate  demands  in  fees,  were 
carried  back  to  prison.  This  was  one  reason  why  jails 
were  full ;  yet  another  was  the  laxity  or  entire  absence  of 
discipline  which  suffered  the  families  of  accused  persons 
to  share  their  confinement.  Under  such  conditions,  more 
oj-  less  universal,  the  state  of  i)risons,  not  in  England  alone, 
but  throughout  the  then  civilized  world,  was  deplorable  in 
the  extreme.  Yet  the  terrors  of  incarceiation  were  long  but 
■•■nguely  understood.     Glimpses  of  light  .sometimes  pene- 


trated the  dark  recesses  of  the  prison  house,  as  when  tlie 
atrocities  perpetrated  by  the  keepers  of  the  chief  debtors' 
prisons  in  London  were  made  the  subject  of  parliamentary 
inquiry.  This  was  in  1730,  fortj'-three  yeare  before  the 
revelations  of  Howard.  But  in  the  interval  voices  were 
occasionally  raised  in  protest,  and  there  was  a  general  sense 
of  uneasiness  throughout  the  country  to  which  the  great 
jihilanthropist  gave  point  and  expression.  Howard  began 
his  journeys  of  inspection  in  1773  ;  in  the  following  year 
he  was  e.xamined  by  the  House  of  Commons,  and  received 
the  thanks  of  the  House  for  his  arduous  and  self-sacrificing 
labours  for  the  mitigation  of  suffering  in  jails.  What 
Howard  found  is  sufficiently  well  known.  The  prisons  of 
the  kingdom  were  a  disgrace  to  humanity:  they  were  for 
the  most  part  poisonous  pestiferous  dens,  densely  over- 
crowded, dark,  foully  dirty,  not  only  ill-ventilated,  but  de- 
prived altogether  of  fresh  air.  The  wretched  inmates  were 
thrown  into  subterranean  dungeons,  into  wet  and  noisome 
caverns  and  hideous  holes  to  rot  and  fester,  a  prey  to  fell 
disease  bred  and  propagated  in  the  prison  house,  and  de- 
prived of  the  commonest  necessaries  of  life.  For  food 
they  were  dependent  upon  the  caprice  of  their  jailers  or  the 
charity  of  the  benevolent ;  water  was  denied  them  esce])t 
in  the  scantiest  proportions ;  they  were  half  naked  or  in 
rags ;  their  only  bedding  was  putrid  straw  reeking  with 
exhalations  and  accumulated  filth.  Every  one  in  durance, 
whether  tried  or  untried,  was  heavily  ironed  ■  women  did 
not  escape  the  infliction.  All  alike  were  subject  to  the 
rapacity  of  their  jailers  and  the  extortions  of  their  fellows. 
Jail  fees  were  levied  ruthlessly,— "garnish"  also,  the  tax  or 
contribution  paid  by  each  individual  to  a  common  fund  to 
be  spent  by  the  whole  body,  generally  in  drink.  Drunken- 
ness was  universal  and  quite  unchecked ;  gambling  of  all 
kinds  was  practised ;  vice  and  obscenity  were  everywhere 
in  the  ascendant.  Idleness,  drunkenness,  vicious  inters 
course,  sickness,  starvation,  squalor,  cruelty,  chains,  awful 
oppression,  and  everywhere  culpable  neglect  —  in  these 
words  may  be  summed  up  the  state  of  the  jails  at  the  time 
of  Howard's  visitation. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  all  this  time  the  prisons 
were  primarily  places  of  detention,  not  of  punishment. 
The  bulk  of  those  committed  to  their  safe  keeping  were 
accused  persons  awaiting  trial  in  due  process  of  law,  or 
debtors ;  and  of  these  again  by  far  the  most  numerous 
class  were  the  impecunious  and  the  unfortunate,  whom  a 
mistaken  system  locked  up  and  deprived  of  all  means  of 
paying  their  liabilities.  Now  and  again  an  offender  was 
sentenced  to  be  imprisoned  in  default  of  payment  of  fine, 
or  to  pass  the  intervals  between  certain  periods  of  dis- 
graceful exposure  on  the  pillory.  Imprisonment  had  as 
yet  no  regular  place  in  the  code  of  penalties,  and  the  jail 
was  only  the  temporary  lodging  of  culjirits  duly  tried 
and  sentenced  according  to  law.  The  punishment  most 
in  favour  in  these  ruthless  times  was  death.  The  statute- 
book  bristled  with  capital  felonies,  and  the  gallows  was 
in  perpetual  requisition.  These  were  days  when  the  pick-, 
pocket  was  hanged ;  so  was  the  shecp-stcaler,  and  the 
forger  of  one-pound  notes.  Well  might  Sir  Samuel 
Komilly,  to  whoso  strenuous  exertions  the  amelioration  of 
the  penal  code  is  in  a  great  measure  due,  declare  that  the 
laws  of  England  were  written  in  blood.  But  even  then 
there  was  another  and  a  less  .sanguinary  penalty.  The 
de])ortation  of  criminals  beyond  seas  grow  naturally  out  of 
the  laws  which  ]irescribod  Iianishment  for  certain  offences. 
The  Vagrancy  Act  of  Elizabeth's  reign  contained  in  it  the 
germ  of  transportation,  by  empowering  justices  in  (juartcr 
sessions  to  banish  offenders  and  order  them  to  be  con\Tyed 
into  such  parts  beyond  the  seas  as  should  be  assigned  by 
Her  Majesty's  privy  council.  Full  effect  was  given  to 
this  statute  in  the.  next  reign,   as  is  proved  by  a  let^c* 


748 


PRISON      DISCIPLINE 


of  James  I.,  dated  1619,  in  which  the  king  directs'" a 
hundred  dissolute  persons "  to  be  sent  to  Virginia.  An- 
other Act  of  similar  tenor  wna  passed  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  II.,  in  wliich  the  term  "transportation"  appears 
to  have  been  .Irst  used.  A  further  and  more  systematic 
development  of  the  system  of  transportation  took  place  in 
1718,  when  an  Act  was  passed  by  which  offenders  who 
had  escaped  the  death  penalty  were  handed  over  to  con- 
tractors, who  engaged  to  transport  tliem  to  the  American 
colonies.  These  contractors  were  vested  with  a  property 
in  the  labour  of  the  convicts  for  a  certain  term,  generally 
from  seven  to  fourteen  years,  and  this  right  they  fre- 
quently sold.  Labour  in  those  early  days  was  scarce  in 
the  new  settlements ;  and  before  the  general  adoption  of 
negro  slavery  there  was  a  keen  competition  for  felon 
hands.  The  demand  was  indeed  so  great  that  it  produced 
illegal  methods  of  supply.  An  organized  system  of  kid- 
napi)ing  prevailed  along  the  British  coasts ;  young  lads 
were  seized  and  sold  into  what  was  practically  white 
slavery  in  the  American  plantations.  These  malpractices 
were  chocked,  but  the  legitimate  traffic  in  convict  labour 
continued  until  it  was  ended  peremptorily  by  the  revolt  of 
the  American  colonies  and  the  achievement  of  their  inde- 
pendence. In  1776  the  British  legislature,  making  a 
virtue  of  necessity,  discovered  that  transportation  to  His 
Majesty's  colonies-  (which  three  years  previously  had  de-  \ 
clared  their  independence)  was  bound  to  be  attended  by 
various  inconveniences,  particularly  by  depriving  the  king- 
dom of  many  subjects  whose  labour  might  be  useful  to 
the  community  ;  and  an  Act  was  accordingly  passed  which 
provided  that  convicts  sentenced  to  transportation  might 
be  employed  at  hard  labour  at  home.  At  the  same  time 
the  consideration  of  some  scheme  for  their  disposal  was 
emtrusted  to  three  eminent  public  men — Sir  William 
Blackstone,  Mr  Eden  (afterwards  Lord  Auckland),  and 
John  Howard.  The  result  of  Uieir  labours  was  an  Act 
for  the  establishment  of  penitentiary  houses,  dated  1778. 
This  Act  is  of  peculiar  importance.  It  contains  the  first 
public  enunciation  of  a  general  principle  of  penal  treat- 
ment, and  shows  that  even  at  that  early  date  the  system 
since  nearly  universally  adopted  was  fully  understood. 
The  object  in  view  was  thus  stated.  It  was  hoped,  by 
sobriety,  cleanliness,  and  medical  assistance,  by  a  regular 
series  of  labour,  by  solitary  confinement  during  the  inter- 
vals of  work,  and  by  due  religious  instruction,  to  preserve 
and  amend  the  health  of  the  unhappy  offenders,  to  inure 
them  to  habits  of  industry,  to  guard  them  from  pernicious 
company,  to  accustom  them  to  serious  reflexion,  and  to 
teach  them  both  the  principles  and  practice  of  every 
Christian  and  moral  dut}'.  The  experience  of  a  century 
has  added  nothing  to  these  the  true  principles  of  penal 
discipline ;  they  form  the  basis  of  every  species  of  prison 
system  carried  out  since  the  passing  of  tlie  Act  19  Geo.  III. 
c.  74  in  1779. 

The  first  step  towards  gi\  ing  effect  to  this  Act  was  the 
appointment  of  a  commission  of  three  "  supervisors "  to 
select  and  acquire  a  site  for  the  first  penitentiary  house. 
Howard  was  one,  and  no  doubt  the  most  influential,  of 
those ;  but  he  could  not  agree  with  his  colleagues  as  to  the 
most  suitable  situation.  One  was  for  Islington,  another 
for  Limehouse,  while  Howard  insisted  upon  some  site 
which  was  healthy,  well  supplied  with  water,  and  in  such 
a  convenient  spot  that  it  could  be  readily  visited  and  in- 
sjiected.  It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  the  great  phil- 
anthropist anticipated  modern  English  practice  in  his  pre- 
paration of  the  plans  for  the  construction  of  the  prison. 
He  was  strongly  of  opinion  that  the  penitentiary  should 
be  built  by  convict  labour,  just  as  in  recent  years  the  new 
lirison  has  been  erected  at  Wormwood  Scrubs,  and  large 
blocks  added  to  the  prisons  of  Chatham,  Portsmouth,  and 


Dartmoor.  Howard,  however,  withdrew  from  the  com- 
mission, and  new  supervisors  were  appointed,  who  were  on 
the  eve  of  commencing  the  first  penitentiary  when  the 
discoveries  of  Captain  Cook  in  the  South  Seas  turned  the 
attention  of  the  Government  towards  these  new  lands. 
The  vast  territories  of  Australasia  promised  an  unlimited 
field  for  convict  colonization,  and  for  the  moment  the 
scheme  for  penitentiary  houses  fell  to  the  ground.  Public 
opinion  generally  preferred  the  idea  of  establishing  penal 
settlements  at  a  distance  from  home.  "  There  was  general 
confidence,"  says  !Merivale  in  his  work  on  colonization, 
"  in  the  favourite  theory  that  the  best  mode  of  punishing 
offenders  was  that  which  removed  them  from  the  scene  of 
offence  and  temptation,  cut  them  off  by  a  great  gulf  of 
space  from  all  their  former  connexions,  and  gave  them  the 
ojiportunity  of  redeeming  past  crimes  by  becoming  useful 
members  of  society."  These  views  so  far  prevailed  that 
an  expedition  consisting  of  nine  transports  and  two  men- 
of-war,  the  "  first  fleet "  of  Australian  annals,  sailed  in 
March  1787  for  New  South  Wales.  This  first  fleet 
reached  Botany  Bay  in  January  1788,  but  passed  on  and 
landed  at  Port  Jackson,  where  it  entered  and  occupied  the 
harbour  of  Sydney,  one  of  the  finest  and  most  secure 
havens  in  the  world.  We  shall  return  further  on  to  the 
proceedings  of  these  first  criminal  colonists  when  the  pro- 
gress of  transportation  as  a  secondary  punishment  will  bs 
described. 

The  penitentiary  scheme  was  not,  however,  abandoned 
on  the  adoption  of  transportation  to  New  South  Wales. 
It  was  revived  and  kept  alive  by  Jeremy  Bentham,  who 
in  1791  published  a  work  on  prison  discipline  entitled  Tke 
Panopticon  or  Inspection  House,  and  followed  it  next  year 
by  a  formal  proposal  to  erect  a  prison  house  on  his  own 
plan.  Bentham's  main  idea  was  "a  circular  building,  an 
iron  cage  glazed,  a  glass  lantern  as  large  as  Ranelagh,  with 
the  cells  on  the  outer  circumference."  Within,  in  the 
centre,  an  inspection  station  was  so  fixed  that  every  cell 
or  part  of  a  cell  could  be  at  all  times  closely  observed, — 
the  prisoners  being  themselves  at  liberty  to  communicate 
with  visitors  and  make  known  their  complaints  by  means 
of  tubes.  He  hoped  to  effect  much  in  the  way  of  reforma- 
tion from  a  system  of  solitude  or  limited  seclusion,  with 
constant  employment  on  work  in  the  profits  of  which  the 
prisoners  were  to  share.  His  project  was  warmly  approved 
by  Pitt,  but  secret  influences — the  personal  hostility,  it 
was  said,  of  George  III.  to  Bentham  as  an  advanced 
Radical — hindered  its  adoption  until  1794.  A  contract 
was  then  made  between  the  treasury  and  Bentham,  by 
which  the  latter  was  to  erect  a  prison  for  a  thousand 
convicts,  with  chapel  and  other  necessary  buildings,  for 
£19,000.  A  portion  of  this  sum  was  advanced,  and 
Bentham  also  acquired  on  behalf  of  the  Government 
certain  lands  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Tothill  Fields. 
But  the  undertaking  languished,  and  never  took  practical 
shape.  Nearly  fifteen  years  later,  when  the  penitentiary 
question  was  again  revived,  Bentham's  claims  were  referred 
to  arbitration,  and  the  Government  proceeded  to  erect  the 
prison  on  its  own  account,  "  fully  recognizing  the  import- 
ance of  attempting  reformation  by  the  seclusion,  employ- 
ment; and  religious  instruction  of  prisoners."  This  had 
been  tried  already  on  a  small  scale  but  with  satisfactory 
results,  first  at  the  Gloucester  prison  erected  in  1791  and 
afterwards  in  the  house  of  correction  at  Southwell.  A 
larger  and  more  ambitious  experiment  was  resolved  upon, 
worthy  of  the  state  ;  and  the  great  penitentiary  still  stand- 
ing after  many  vicissitudes,  but  practically  unaltered,  .at 
Millbank  was  the  result  of  this  determination.  It  was 
built  on  the  lands  originally  acquired  by  Benthanj,  and 
the  work  commenced  in  1813  was  continued  at  great  out, 
lay  until  1816,  when  a  portion  was  ready  for  the  receptioi* 


PRISON     DISCIPLINE 


749 


o!  prisoners.  A  great  flourisQ  attended  its  opening.  Its 
affairs  were  entrusted  to  a  specially  appointed  eommittce 
of  eminent  and  distinguished  personages,  the  chairman 
being  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons.  Crowds  of 
visitors — royal  dukes,  foreign  princes,  the  (51ite  of  society 
— came  to  see  the  new  prison  ;  most  elaborate  arrange- 
ments were  made  for  its  internal  government,  and  no 
money  was  spared  either  upon  the  stafE  or  upon  the  com- 
pletion of  the  buildings.  The  sum  total  expended  upon 
the  latter  amounted  to  half  a  million  of  money,  and  the 
yearly  charges  of  the  establishment  were  a  heavy  burthen 
on  the  exchequer. 

The  erection  of  Millbank  was,  however,  a  step  in  the 
right  direction.  The  energy  with  which  it  was  under- 
taken was  the  more  remarkable  because  elsewhere  through- 
out the  United  Kingdom  the  prisons,  with  but  few  excep- 
tions, remained  deplorably  bad.  Mr  N^ild,  who  in  1812 
followed  in  the  footsteps  of  John  Howard,  found  that 
the  old  conditions,  overcrowding  and  indiscriminate  inter- 
course, remained  unchanged.  "  The  great  reformation 
produced  by  Howard,"  to  use  Neild's  own  words,   "  was 

merely   temporary ; prisons  were   relapsing  into 

their  former  horrid  state  of  privation,  filthiness,  severity, 
and  neglect."  Yet  the  legislature  was  alive  to  the  need 
for  prison  reform.  Besides  the  building  of  Millbank  it 
had  promulgated  many  Acts  for  the  amelioration  of  pri- 
soners. Jail  fees  were  onco  more  distinctly  abolished ; 
the  appointment  of  chaplains  was  insisted  upon  ;  the  erec- 
tion of  improved  prison  buildings  was  rendered  impera- 
tive upon  local  authorities.  But  these  with  other  and 
much  older  Acts  remained  in  abeyance.  Thus  an  Act 
■which  provided  for  the  classification  of  prisoners  had  re- 
mained a  dead  letter ;  even  the  separation  of  the  males 
from  the  females  was  not  an  universal  rule.  Humane  pro- 
visions intended  to  secure  the  good  government  of  prisons, 
their  cleanliness  and  ventilation,  and  the  proper  sujiply  of 
food,  clothing,  and  bedding  to  the  prisoners  were  still  sys- 
tematically ignored.  Roused  by  these  crying  evils,  a  small 
band  of  earnest  men,  philanthropists  and  members  of  the 
Society  of  Friends,  formed  themselves  into  an  association 
for  the  improvement  of  prison  discipline,  and  devoted 
themselves  with  rare  energy  and  singleness  of  purpose 
to  their  self-constituted  task.  They  perambulated  the 
country  inspecting  all  the  prisons ;  they  issued  lengthy 
interrogatories  to  prison  officials  ;  they  published  periodi- 
cal reports  giving  the  result  of  their  inquiries,  with  their 
views  on  the  true  principles  of  prison  management,  and 
much  sound  advice,  accompanied  by  elaborate  plans,  on 
the  subject  of  prison  construction.  The  labours  of  this 
society  brought  out  into  strong  relief  the  naked  deformity 
of  the  bulk  of  the  British  jails.  It  was  the  old  story. 
Jails,  speaking  broadly,  were  lamentably  inadequate  for 
the  numbers  crowded  into  them.  Hence  there  was  the 
most  terriblo  overcrowding  :  by  day  in  some  prisons  it  was 
nearly  impossible  to  push  through  the  throngs  in  the 
yards ;  by  night  the  wretched  prisoners  ran  the  risk  of 
suffocation.  Prisoners  were  still  very  generally  obliged  to 
wear  heavy  irons.  They  had  no  regular  diet — at  best 
only  dry  bread.  Speaking  of  St  Albans  from  his  personal 
observation,  Mr  Buxton,  a  most  active  member  of  the 
Society,  says,  "  All  were  in  ill  health  ;  almost  all  were  in 
rags ;  almost  all  were  filthy  in  the  extreme.  The  state  of 
the  prison,  the  desperation  of  the  prisoncr.s,  broadly  hinted 
in  their  conversation  and  plainly  expressed  in  their  con- 
duct, the  uproar  of  oath.s,  complaints,  and  obscenity,  the 
indescribable  stench,  presented  together  a  concentration 
of  the  utmost  misery  and  the  utmost  guilt."  This  was 
no  over-coloured  picture  ;  nor  did  it  portray  a  solitary 
instance.  The  reports  of  the  Society  laid  bare  the  exist- 
ence pf  similar  horrors  in  numbers  of  other  jails,    i  Yet  this 


was  in  1818,  when  tne  legislature  was  setting  a  praise- 
worthy example — when  half  a  million  liad  been  spent  in 
providing  large  airy  cells  for  a  thousand  prisoners.  Even 
in  London  itself,  within  easy  reach  of  this  palatial  Mill- 
bank  penitentiary,  the  chief  prison  of  the  city,  Newgate, 
was  in  a  disgraceful  condition.  This  had  been  exposed 
by  a  parliamentary  inquiry  as  far  back  as  1814,  but 
nothing  had  been  done  to  remedy  the  evils  laid  bare.  All 
the  shameful  conditions  of  neglect,  ill-treatment,  and  over- 
crowding were  present  in  Newgate,  and  to  the  same  extent 
as  in  any  of  the  provincial  prisons.  The  state  of  the 
female  side  had  already  attracted  the  attention  of  that 
devoted  woman,  Mrs  Fry,  whose  ministrations  and  wonder- 
ful success  no  doubt  encouraged,  if  they  did  not  bring 
about,  the  formation  of  the  Prison  Society.  Mrs  Fry 
went  first  to  Newgate  in  1813,  but  only  as  a  casual 
visitor.  It  was  not  till  1817  that  she  entered  upon  the 
great  and  noble  work  with  which  her  name  will  ever  be 
associated.  She  worked  a  miracle  there  in  an  incredibly 
short  space  of  time.  The  ward  into  which  she  penetrated, 
although  strongly  dissuaded  by  the  officials,  was  like  a 
den  of  wild  beasts ;  it  was  filled  with  women  unsexed, 
fighting,  swearing,  dancing,  gaming,  yelling,  and  justly 
deserved  its  name  of  "hell  above  ground."  Within  a 
month  it  was  transformed,  and  presented,  says  an  eye 
witness,  "a  scene  where  stillness  and  propriety  reigned." 
The  wild  beasts  were  tamed.  It  was  not  strange  that 
such  marvellous  results  should  be  bruited  abroad,  that 
public  attention  should  be  attracted  to  Mrs  Fry's  labours^ 
and  th^t  others  should  seek  to  follow  in  her  footsteps. 
Movements  similar  to  that  which  Mrs  Fry  headed  were 
soon  set  on  foot  both  in  England  and  on  the  Continent, 
and  public  attention  was  generally  directed  to  the  urgent 
necessity  for  prison  reform. 

Stimulated  no  doubt  by  the  success  achieved  by  Mrs 
Fry,  the  Prison  Discipline  Society  continued  its  useful 
labours.  Hostile  critics  were  not  wanting  ;  many  voices 
were  raised  in  protest  against  the  ultra-humanitarianism 
which  sought  to  make  jails  too  comfortable  and  tended 
to  pamper  criminals.  But  the  society  pursued  its  way 
undeterred  by  sarcasm,  through  evil  and  good  report  striv- 
ing earnestly  after  the  objects  it  had  in  view.  Many  of 
these  are  now  accepted  as  axioms  in  prison  treatment.  It 
is,  for  instance,  established  beyond  question  that  female 
officers  only  should  have  charge  of  female  prisoners,  that 
prisoners  of  both  sexes  should  be  kept  constantly  employed. 
Yet  these  principles  were  unacknowledged  at  that  time,  and 
were  first  enunciated  in  Acts  such  as  the  4  Geo.  IV^.  c.  65 
and  the  5  Geo.  IV.  c.  85  (1823-24),  the  passing  of  which 
were  mainly  due  to  the  strenuous  exertions  of  the  Prison 
Discipline  Society.  It  was  la^id  down  in  these  that  over 
and  above  safe  custody  it  was  essential  to  preserve  health, 
improve  morals,  and  enforce  hard  labour  on  all  pri.sonura 
sentenced  to  It.  These  Acts  also  provided  that  male  and 
female  prisoners  should  be  confined  in  separate  buildings, 
that  matrons  should  bo  appointed,  and  schoolmasters,  and 
that  there  should  bo  divine  service  daily  in  the  jails. 
Now  at  last  irons  were  strictly  forbidden  except  in  cases  of 
"urgent  and  absolute  necessity,"  and  it  was  ruled  that 
every  prisoner  should  have  a  bed  to  himself, — if  possiblo 
a  sejjarate  cell,  the  last  being  the  first  formal  statement  of 
a  principle  upon  which  all  future  prison  discipline  was  to 
be  based. 

The  importance  of  these  Acts  cannot  bo  overestimated 
as  supplying  a  legal  standard  of  efficiency  by  which  all 
prisons  could  be  measured.  Still  the  progress  of  ini|)rove- 
mcnt  was  extremely  slow,  and  years  after  the  managers 
of  jails  still  evaded  or  ignored  the  Acts.  Many  local 
authorities  grudged  the  money  to  rebuild  or  enlarge  their 
jails ;   others  varied  much  in  their  interpretation  of   tho 


750 


PRISON      DISCIPLINE 


rules  as  to  hard  labour  and  the  hours  of  employment.  One 
great  drawback  to  general  reform  was  that  a  large  number 
of  small  prisons  lay  beyond  the  reach  of  the  law.  Those 
under  small  jurisdictions  in  the  boroughs  and  under  the 
petty  corporate  bodies  continued  open  to  the  strongest 
reprobation.  Not  only  were  they  wanting  in  all  the  in- 
dispensable requirements  as  laid  down  by  the  most  recent 
Acts,  but  they  were  often  unfit  for  the  confinement  of 
human  beings,  and  were  described  "  as  fruitful  sources  of 
vice  and  misery,  debasing  all  who  are  confined  within  their 
walls."  They  thus  remained  until  they  were  swept  away 
by  the  measure  which  brought  about  the  reform  of  the 
municipal  corporations  in  1835.  But  by  this  time  a  still 
more  determined  effort  had  been  made  to  establish  some 
uniform  and  improved  system  of  prison  discipline.  In 
1831  a  select  committee  of  the  House  of  Commons  went 
into  the  whole  subject  of  secondary  punishment,  and  re- 
ported that,  as  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  an  effective 
classification  of  prisoners  were  insurmountable,  they  were 
strongly  in  favour  of  the  confinement  of  prisoners  in 
separate  cells,  recommending  that  the  whole  of  the 
prisons  should  be  altered  accordingly,  and  the  expense 
borne  by  the  public  exchequer.  There  can  be  little  doubt 
that  this  committee,  like  every  one  just  then,  was  greatly 
struck  by  the  superior  methods  of  prison  discipline  pursued 
in  the  United  States,  jlhe  best  American  prisons  had 
recently  been  visited  by  two  eminent  Frenchmen,  MM. 
Beaumont  and  De  Tocqueville,  who  spoke  of  them  in  terms 
of  the  highest  praise.  It  was  with  the  object  of  appro- 
priating what  was  best  in  the  American  system  that  Mr 
Crawfurd  was  despatched  across  the  Atlantic  on  a  specia,! 
mission  of  inquiry.  His  able  and  exhaustive  report, 
published  in  1834,  was  a  valuable  contribution  to  the 
whole  question  of  penal  discipline,  and  it  was  closely  and 
attentively  studied  at  the  time.  Another  select  committee, 
this  time  of  the  House  of  Lords,  returned  to  the  subject  in 
1835,  and  after  a  long  investigation  re-enunciated  the  theory 
that  all  prisoners  should  be  kept  separate  and  apart  from 
one  another.  It  also  urged  in  strong  terms  the  necessity 
for  one  uniform  system  of  treatment,  more  especially  as 
regarded  dietaries,  labour,  and  education^  and  strongly 
recommended  the  appointment  of  official  inspectors  to 
enforce  obedience  to  the  Acts.  These  recommendations 
were  eventually  adopted,  and  formed  .the  basis  of  a  new 
departure.  This  was  the  first  indication  of  a  system 
which,  although  greatly  modified,  enlarged,  and  improved, 
is  in  its  main  outlines  the  same  as  that  now  in  force. 

It  must,  however,  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  prisons  at  homo 
still  formed  an  item  only,  and  not  the  largest,  in  the  scheme  of 
secondary  punishment.  The  jail  was  only  a  place  of  temporary 
detention,  where  prisoners  awaited  trial,  suffered  short  terms  of 
imprisonment,  or  passed  on  to  the  gallows  or  the  penal  colonics. 
The  last-named  was  the  chief  outlet,  for  by  this  time  the  country 
was  fully  committed  to  the  system  of  deportation.  Since  the 
first  fleet  in  1787  convicts  had  been  sent  out  in  constantly  increas- 
ing numbers  to  the  antipodes.  Yet  the  early  settlement  at 
Sydney  had  not  greatly  prospered.  The  infant  colony,  composed 
of  such  incongruous  materials,  of  guards  and  criminals,  had  had 
a  bitter  struggle  for  existence.  It  had  been  lioped  that  the  com- 
munity would  raise  its  own  produce  and  speedily  become  self-sup- 
porting. But  the  soil  was  unfruitful ;  the  convicts  knew  nothing 
of  farming ;  there  was  no  one  fully  competent  to  instruct  them 
in  agriculture.  All  lived  upon  rations  sent  out  from  home';  and 
when  convoy.s  with  relief  lingered  by  the  way  famine  stared  all 
in  the  face.  The  colony  was  long  a  penal  settlement  and  nothing 
more,  peopled  only  by  two  classes,  convicts  and  their  masters — 
criminal  bondsmen  on  the  one  hand  who  had  forfeited  their  inde- 
pendence and  were  bound  to  labour  without  wages  for  the  state, 
on  the  other  officials  to  guard  and  exact  the  due  performance 
of  tasks.  From  the  first  it  had  been  felt  that  the  formation 
of  a  steady  respectable  class  was  essential  to  the  future  healthy 
life  of  the  colony.  But  such  an  element  was  not  easy  to  infuse 
into  tlie  community.  A  few  free  families  were  encouraged  to 
emigrate,  but  they  were  lost  in  the  mass  they  were  intended  to 
leaven,  swamped  and  outaumbered  by  the  convicts,  shiploads  of 


whom  continued  to  pour  in  year  after  year.  As  the  influx  ir.. 
creased  difficulties  arose  as  to  their  employment.  Free  settlers 
were  too  few  to  give  work  to  more  than  a  small  proportion. 
Moreover,  a  new  policy  was  in  the  ascendant,  initiated  bj 
Governor  Macijuarie,  who  considered  the  convicts  and  their  reha- 
bilitation his  chief  care,  and  steadily  discouraged  the  immigration 
of  any  but  those  who  "came  tint  for  their  country's  good."  The 
great  bulk  of  the  convict  labour  thus  remained  in  Government 
hands.  This  period  marked  the  first  phase  in  the  history  of 
transportation.  The  penal  colony,  having  triumphed  over  early 
dangers  and  dilBeulties,  was  crowded  with  convicts  in  a  state  oi 
semi-freedom,  maiutaiued  at  the  public  expense,  and  utilized  in  the 
development  of  the  latent  resources  of  the  country.  The  methods 
employed  by  Governor  JIacquarie  were  not  perhaps  invariably  the 
best ;  the  time  was  hardly  ripe  as  yet  for  the  erection  of  palatial 
buildings  in  Sydney,  while  the  congregation  of  the  workmen  in 
larjje  bodies  tended  greatly  to  their  demoralization.  But  some 
of  tlio  works  undertaken  and  canied  out  were  of  incalculable  ser- 
vice to  the  young  colony  ;  and  its  early  advancs  in  wealth  and 
prosperity  was  greatly  due  to  the  magnificent  roads,  bridges,  and 
other  facilities  of  inter-commuuication  for  which  it  was  indebted 
to  Governor  Macquarie. 

But  now  the  criminal  sewage  flowing  from  the  Old  World  to  the 
New  was  greatly  increased  in  volume  under  mildei-  and  more 
humane  laws.  Many  now  escaped  the  gallows,  and  much  of  tht 
over-crowding  of  the  jails  at  home  already  mentioned  was  caused 
by  the  gangs  of  convicts  awaiting  transhipment  to  the  antipodes. 
They  were  packed  off,  however,  with  all  convenient  despatch,  and 
the  numbers  on  Government  hands,  in  the  colonies  multiplied 
exceedingly,  causing  increasing  embarrassment  as  to  their  disposal. 
Moreover,  the  expense  of  the  Australian  convict  establishments 
was  enormous,  and  some  change  in  system  was  inevitable.  These 
were  the  conditions  that  brought  about  the  plan  of  "assign- 
ments," in  other  words  of  freely  lending  the  convicts  to  any  vhc 
would  relieve  the  authorities  of  the  burdensome  charge.  By  this 
time  free  settlers  were  arriving  in  greater  number,  invited  by  a 
diH'erent  and  more  liberal  policy  than  that  of  Governor  Macquarie. 
Inducements  were  especially  offered  to  persons  possessed  of  capital 
to  venture  in  the  development  of  the  country.  Assignment 
developed  rapidly  ;  soon  eager  competition  arose  for  the  convict 
hands  that  were  at  first  very  reluctantly  taken.  Great  facilities 
existed  for  utilizing  them  on  the  wide  areas  of  grazing  land  and 
on  the  new  stations  in  the  interior  A  pastoral  life,  without 
temptations  and  contaminating  influences,  was  well  suited  for 
convicts.  As  the  colony  grew  richer  and  more  populous,  other 
than  agricultural  employers  became  assignees,  and  numerous  enter- 
prises were  set  on  foot.  The  trades  and  callings  which  minister  to 
the  needs  of  all  civilized  communities  were  more  and  more  largely 
pursued.  There  was  plenty  of  work  for  skilled  convicts  in  the 
to\vns,  and  the  services  of  the  more  intelligent  were  highly  prized. 
It  was  a  great  boon  to  secure  gratis  the  assistance  of  men  specially 
trained  as  clerks,  book-keepers,  or  handicraftsmen.  Hence  all 
manner  of  intrigues  and  manoeuvres  were  set  agoing  on  the  arrival 
of  drafts,  and  there  was  a  scramble  for  the  best  hands.  Here  at 
once  was  a  flaw  in  the  system  of  assignment.  The  lot  of  the  con- 
vict was  altogether  unequal.  Some,  the  dull  unlettered  and 
unskilled,  were  drafted  to  heavy  manual  labour  at  which  they 
remained,  while  clever  and  expert  rogues  found  pleasant,  con- 
genial, and  often  profitable  employment.  The  contrast  was  very 
marked  from  the  firet,  but  it  became  the  more  apparent,  the 
anomaly  more  monstrous,  as  time  passed  on  and  some  were  still 
engaged  in  unlovely  toil  while  others,  who  had  come  out  by  the 
same  ship,  had  already  attained  to  affluence  and  ease.  For  the 
latter  transportation  was  no  punishment,  but  often  the  reveisc. 
It  meant  too  often  transfer  to  a  new  world  under  conditions  more 
favourable  to  success,  removed  from  the  keener  com])etition  of  the 
old.  By  adroit  management,  too,  they  often  obtained  the  com- 
mand of  funds,  the  product  of  nefarious  transactions  at  home,' 
which  wives  or  near  relatives  or  unconvicted  accomplices  presently 
brought  out  to  them.  It  was  easy  for  the  free  new-comers  to 
secure  the  assignment  of  their  convict  friends  ;  and  the  latter,* 
although  still  nominally  servants  and  in  the  background,  at  onco 
assumed  the  real  control.  Another  system  productive  of  much  evil 
was  the  employment  of  convict  clerks  in  positions  of  trust  in  various 
Government  offices  ;  convicts  did  much  of  the  legal  work  of  the 
colony  ;  a  convict  was  clerk  to  the  attorney-general ;  others  wore 
schoolmasters,  and  were  entrusted  with  the  education  of  youth. 

Under  a  system  so  anomalous  and  uncertain  the  main  object  of 
transportation  as  a  method  of  penal  discipline  and  repression  was 
in  danger  of  being  quite  overlooked.  Yet  the  state  could  not 
entirely  abdicate  its  functions,  although  it  surrendered  to  a  gieat 
extent  the  care  of  criminals  to  private  persons.  It  had  established 
a  code  of  peu.alties  for  the  coercion  of  the  ill-conducted,  while  it 
kept  the  woist,  perforce,  in  its  own  hands.  The  master  was 
always  at  liberty  to  appeal  to  the  strong  arm  of  the  law.  A 
message  carried  to  a  neighbouring  magistr.Ttc,  often  by  thc-Cillprit 
himself,  brought  down  the  prompt  retiibution  of  the  lash.     Von- 


PRISON     DISCIPLINE 


751 


nets  miglit  be  flogged  for  petty  ofTcnces,  for  iillencss,  drunkenness, 
,  turbulence,  absconding,  and  so  forth.     At  the  out-stations  some 
chow  of  decorum  and  regularity  wa;i  observed,  although  tlie  work 
done  was  generally  scanty,  and  the  convicts  were  secretly  given  to 
all  manner  of  evil  courses.     The  town  convicts  were  worse,  because 
they  were  far  less  under  control.     They  were  nominally  under  the 
surveillance  and  supervision  of  the  police,   which  amounted   to 
nothing  at  all.     They  came   and  went,   and  amused  themselves 
.Iter  working  hours,  so  that  Sydney  and  all  the  largo  towns  were 
.  )t-bcd3  of  vice  and  immorality.     The  masters  as  a  rule  made  no 
'Itempt  to  watch  over  their  charges ;  many  of  them  were  absolutely 
uifittcd   to  do  so,  being  themselves  of  low  character,  "  emanci- 
!sts  "  frequently,  old  conWcts  pardoned  or  who  liad  finished  their 
rtns.  ■   Ko  effort  was  made  to  prevent  the  assignment  of  convicts 
;o  improper  persons ;  every  applicant  got  what  he  wanted,  even 
though  his  own  character  would  not  bear  inspection.     All  whom 
the  roosters  could  not  manage — the  incorrigibles  upon  whom  lash 
nd  bread   and  water  had  been  tried  in  vain — were  returned  to 
Government   charge.     These,  in  a  word,  comprised  the  whole  of 
he  refuse  of  colonial  convictdora.     Every  man  who  could  not  aOTee 
ith  his  master,  or  who  was  to  undergo  a  penalty  greater  than 
i.ugging  or  less  than  capital  punishment,  came  back  to  Govern- 
ment, and  was  disposed  of  in  one  of  three  ways — the  road  parties, 
I '10  chain  gangs,  or  the  penal  ."iettlements.     The  convicts  in  the 
rst  might  be  kept  in  the  vicinity  of  the  towns  or  marched  about 
.0  country  according  to  the  work  in  hand;  the  labour  was  irk- 
-  me,  but,  owing  to  inefficient  supervision,  never  intolerable;  the 
: -t  was  ample,  and  there  was  no  great  restraint  upon  independ- 
Lco  within -certain  wide  limits.     To  the  slackness  of  control  over 
:ia  road  parties  was  directly  traceable  the  frequent  escape  of  des- 
j-radoes,   who,   defying  recapture,   recruited  the  gangs  of  bush- 
rangers, which  were  a  constant  terror  to  the  wliole  country.     In 
the  chain  or  iron  gangs,  as  they  were  sometimes  styled,  discipline 
was   far  more   vigorous.       It   was    maintained   by   the    constant 
presence  of  a  military  guard,  and,  when  most  efficiently  organized, 
uas  governed  by  a  military  officer  who  was  also  a  magistrate. 
!'Ua  work  was  really  hard,  the  custody  close — in  hulk,  stockaded 
Lirack,  or  caravan ;  the  first  was  at  Sydney,  the  second  dn  the 
aterior,  the  last  when  the  undertaking  required  constant  change 
f   place.      All  were  locked  up  from  sunset  to  sunrise ;  all  wore 
iieavy  leg  irons;   and   all  were  liable  to  immediate  flagellation. 
The  convict  "scourger"  was  one  of  the  regular  officials  attached  to 
every  chain   gang.     The   third  and  ultimate   receptacle  was  the 
i-nal  settlement,  to  which  no  otfenders  were  transferred  till  all 
ilier  methods  of  treatment  had  failed.     These  were  terrible  cess- 
jiools  of  iniquity,  so  bad  that  ft  seemed,  to  use  the  words  of  one 
who  knew  theui  well,  "the  heart  of  a  man  who  went  to  them  was 
taken  from  him  and  he  was  given  that  of  a  beast."     The  horrors 
accumulated  at  Norfolk  Island,  Moreton   Bay,  Port  Arthur,  and 
Tasman's  Peninsula  are  almost  beyond  description.     The  convicts 
herded  together  in  them  grew  utterly  degraded  and  brutalized  ;  no 
wonder  tliat  reckless  despair  took  possession  of  them,  that  death 
on  the  gallows  for  murder  purposely  committed,  or  the  slow  terror 
from  starvation  following  escape  into  surrounding  wilds,  was  often 
Welcomed  as  a  relief. 

The  stage  which  transportation  was  now  reaching,  and  the 
ictual  condition  of  affairs  in  the  Australian  colonies  about  this 
1  'riod,  do  not  appear  to  have  been  much  understood  in  England, 
earnest  and  thoughtful  men  mi;jht  busy  themselves  with  prison 
iiscipline  at  home,  and  the  legislature  might  watch  with  |iccnliar 
interest  the  results  obtained  from  the  special  treatment  of  a  limited 
number. of  selected  offenders  in  Millbank  penitentiary.  But  for 
ho  great  mass  of  criminality  deported  to  a  distant  shore  no  very 
I'  tiro  concern  was  shown.  Tlio  country  for  a  long  time  seemed 
itisfied  with  transportation.  Portions  of  the  system  might  be 
'pen  to  criticism.  Thus  the  Commons  committee  of  1832  freely 
condemned  the  hulks  at  Woolwich  and  other  arsenals  in  whiuh 
a  largo  number  of  convicts  were  kept  while  waiting  embarka- 
tion. The  indiscriminate  association  of  prisoners  in  them  produced 
moiri  vice,  profanencss,  and  demoralization  than  in  the  ordinary 
]iri--ioii3.  After  dark  the  wildest  orgies  went  on  in  them — dancing, 
lighting,  gambling,  singing,  and  so  forth;  it  was  easy  to  get 
drink  and  tobacco,  and  .see  friends  from  outside.  The  labour 
liours  were  short,  the  tasks  light;  "altogether  the  situation  of 
the  convict"  in  the  hulks,  says  the  report,  "cannot  be  considered 
penal;  it  is  a  state  of  restriction,  but  hardly  of  punishment." 
iiut  this  saTiie  committee  .spoke  well  of  transportation,  considering 
it  "a  mo.st  valuable  e-xpedient  in  the  system  of  secondary  jiunish- 
nicnt."  ■  All  that  it  felt  necessary  to  suggest  was  that  exile  should 
be  preceded  by  a  period  of  severe  probationary  punishment  in 
Englund,  a  proposal  which  was  reiterated  later  on  and  actually 
adopted,  aa  we  shall  see.  It  was  in  the  country  most  closely 
afcctcd  that  dissati.sfaction  first  began  to  find  voice.  Already  in 
1832  the  most  reputable  sections  of  Australian  society  were 
beginning  to  find  grave  fault  with  transportation.  It  had  fostered 
the  growth  of  a  strong  party — that  rei>resenting  convict  views — 
and  these  were  advocated  boldly  in  unprincipled  prints.     This 


party,  constantly  recruited  from  the  emancipists  and  ticketof- 
leave  holders,  gradually  grew  very  numerous,  and  threatened  soon 
to  swamp  the  respectable  and  untainted  parts  of  the  community. 
As  years  passed  the  prevalence  of  crime,  and  the  universally  low 
tone  of  morality  due  to  the  convict  element,  became  more  and 
more  noticeable,  and  created  greater,  disgust.  At  length,  in  1835, 
Judge  Burton  raised  a  loud  protest,  and  in  a  cliarge  to  tlie  grand 
jury  of  Sydney  plainly  intimated  that  transjiortation  must  cease. 
While  it  existed,  he  said,  the  colonies  could  never  rise  to  their 
proper  position ;  they  could  not  claim  free  institutions ;  in  a 
word,  Australia  sulfered  in  its  whole  moral  aspect,  'i'his  bold  but 
forcible  language  commanded  attention.  It  was  sjiecdily  echoed  in 
England,  and  by  none  more  eloquently  than  Archbishop  Whately, 
who  logically  argued  that  transportation  fail!;d  in  all  the  leading 
requisites  of  any  system  of  seconJary  punishment.  It  was  not 
formidable — criminals  did  not  dread  it ;  it  was  not  coiTective,  but 
tended  obviously  to  produce  further  moral  debasement;  it  was  not 
cheap— on  the  contrary  it  entailed  gieat  outlay  without  bringins 
any  adequate  returns.  In  the  first  most  important  object  it  had 
certainly  failed.  Transportation  exercised  no  salutary  terror  in 
offenders  ;  it  was  no  longer  exile  to  an  unknown  inhospitable 
region,  but  to  one  flowing  with  jiiilk  and  honey,  whither  innumer- 
able friends  and  associates  had  gone  already.  There  was  every 
chance  of  doing  well  in  the  new  country.  The  most  glowing  de- 
scriptions came  back  of  the  wealth  which  any  clever  fellow  might 
easily  amass  ;  stories  were  told  and  names  mentioned  of  those  who 
had  made  ample  fortunes  in  Australia  in  a  few  years.  As  a  matter 
of  fact  tire  convicts,  or  at  least  largo  numbers  of  them,  had  pro- 
spered exceedingly.  Some  had  incomes  of  twenty,  thirty,  even 
forty  thonsand  pounds  a  year.  They  owned  shops  and  farms  and 
public  houses  and  ships,  drove  in  carriages,  and  kept  up  grand 
establishments.  It  could  be  no  great  punishment  to  be  put  within 
reach  of  such  advantages.  As  regarded  the  deteriorating  effects 
of  the  system,  these  were  plainly  manifest  on  the  surface  from  tho 
condition  of  the  colony — the  profligacy  of  the  towns,  the  leniency 
shown  to  crimes  and  those  who  nad  committed  them.  Down 
below,  in  the  depths. where  the  dregs  rankled  perpetually,  in  the 
openly  sanctioned  slavery  called  assignment,  in  tho  demoralizing 
chain  gangs,  and  in  the  inexpressibly  horrible  penal  settlements, 
were  more  abundant  and  more  awful  proofs  of  the  general  wick- 
edness and  corruption.  Moreover,  these  appalling  results  were 
accompanied  by  a  vast  expenditure.  'The  cost  of  the  colonial  con- 
vict establishments,  with  the  passages  out,  amounted  annually  to 
upwards  of  i'300,000;  another  hundred  thousand  was  expended 
on  the  military  garrisons;  and  various  items  brought  the  whole 
outlay  to  about  naif  a  million  per  annum.  It  may  be  argued 
that  this  was  not  a  heavy  prico  to  pay  for  peopling  a  continent 
and  laying  the  foundations  of  our  vast  Australasian  empire.  But 
that  empire  could  never  have  expanded  to  its  present  dimensions 
if  it  had  depended  on  convict  immigration  alone.  There  was  a 
point,  too,  at  which  all  development,  all  progress,  would  have 
come  to  a  full  stop  had  it  not  been  relieved  of  its  stigma  as  a  penal 
colony. 

That  point  was  reached  between  1835  and  1840,  when  a  iiowerful 
party  came  into  existence  in  New  South  Wales,  pledged  to  procure 
the  abandonment  of  transportation.  A  strongly  hostile  feeling  was 
also  gaining  ground  in  England.  In  1837  a  new  committee  of  the 
House  of  Commons  had  made  a  patient  and  searching  investigation 
into  the  merits  and  demerits  of  the  system,  and  freely  condemned 
it.  The  Government  had  no  choice  but  to  give  way  ;  it  could  not 
ignore  tho  protest  of  the  colonists  backed  up  by  such  an  authori- 
tative expression  of  opinion.  In  ISdO  orders  were  issued  to  suspend 
tho  deportation  of  criminals  to  New  South  Wales.  But  what  was 
to  become  of  tho  convicts  ?  It  was  impossible  to  keep  them  at 
homo.  Tho  hulks,  which  might  have  served,  hod  also  failed  ;  tho 
faultinessof  their  internal  management  had  been  fully  proved.  Tho 
committee  last  mentioned  had  recommended  tho  erection  of  moro 
penitentiaries.  But  tho  costly  experiment  of  Millbank  had  been 
barren  of  results.  The  model  prisftn  at  Pentonville,  now  in  process 
of  construction  under  the  pressure  of  a  movement  towards  prison 
reform,  could  offer  but  limited  accommodation.  A  proposal  was 
put  forward  to  construct  convict  barracks  in  the  vicinity  of  tho 
great  ar.senals  ;  bu.t  this,  which  contained  really  tho  germ  of  tho 
present  British  penal  system,  was  premature.  The  Government  in 
this  dilemma  steered  a  middlo  course,  and  resolved  to  adhere  to 
transportation,  but  under  a  greatly  modified  and,  it  was  hoped, 
much  improved  form.  The  colony  of  Van  Dicmen'a  Land,  younger 
and  less  self-reliant  than  its  neighbour,  had  also  endured  convict 
immigration,  but  had  made  no  protest.  It  was  resolved  to  direct 
tho  whole  stTcain  of  deportation  ujion  Van  Dieinen's  Land,  which 
was  thus  constituted  one  vast  colonial  prison.  The  main  prlnciplo 
of  the  now  system  was  ono  of  probation  ;  hence  its  name.  All  con- 
victs were  to  pass  through  various  stages  and  degrees  of  punishment 
according  to  their  conduct  and  character.  l>onio  general  dcpOt  was 
needed  where  the  necessary  observation  Oonld  bo  made,  and  it  was 
found  nt  Millbank  penitentiary.  Thc-co  boys  were  sent  to  tho 
priiion  for  juveniles  at  I'ajkliurst ;  the  most  promising  su.bjcct« 


752 


PRISON     DISCIPLINE 


•TJlong  the  adults  were  selected  to  undergo  tlie  exiierinient<il  disci- 
|>Hiie  of  solitu.le  and  separation  at  Pentonville  ;  less  hopeful  cases 
went  to  the  hulks  ;  and  all  adults  alike  passed  on  to  the  antipodes. 
Fresh  staj^es  awaited  the  convict  on  his  arrival  at  Van  Diemen's 
Gand.  The  first  was  limited  to  "lifers"  and  colonial  convicts  sen- 
tenced a  second  time.  It  consisted  in  detention  at  one  of  the  penal 
stations,  either  Norfolk  Island  or  Tasman's  Peninsula,  where  the 
disgraceful  co-ndftions  already  descrihcd  continued  unchanged  to  the 
very  last.  The  second  stage  received  the  largest  number,  who  were 
subjected  in  it  to  gang  labour,  working  imder  restraint  in  various 
parts  of  the  colony.  These  probation  stations,  as  they  were  called, 
were  intended  to  inculcate  habits  of  industry  and  subordination  ; 
they  were  provided  with  snjiervisors  and  religious  instructors  ;  and, 
had  they  uot  been  soon  tainted  by  the  vicious  virus  brought  to  them 
by  others  arriving  from  -the  penal  stations,  they  might  have 
answered  their  purpose  for  a  time.  But  they  became  as  bad  as  the 
worst  of  the  penal  settlements,  and  contributed  grea'tly  to  the 
deplorable  breakdown  of  the  whole  system.  The  third  stage,  and 
the  first  step  towards  freedom,  was  the  conees.-iion  of  a  pass  wluch 
permitted  the  convict  to  be  at  large  under  certain  conditions  to  seek 
work- for  himself;  the  fourth  was  a  ticket-of-leave,  the  possession 
of  which  allowed  him  to  come  and  go  much  as  he  pleased  ;  the  fifth, 
and  last,  was  alisolnte  pardon,  with  the  prospects  of  rehabilitation. 

This  scheme  seemed  admirable  on  paper  ;  yet  it  failed  completely 
when  put  into  practice.  Colonial  resources  were  quite  unable  to 
bear  the  pressure.  Witliin  two  or  three  years  Van  Diemen's  Land 
was  fairly  inundated  with  convicts.  SLxteeu  thousand  were  sent 
out  in  four  years  ;  the  average  annual  draft  in  the  colony  was  about 
thirty  thousand,  and  this  when  there  were  only  thirty-seven 
thousand  free  settlers.  Half  the  whole  number  of  convicts  remained 
in  Government  hands,  and  were  kept  in  the  probation  gangs, 
engaged  upon  public  works  of  great  utility ;  but  the  other  half, 
pass-holders  and  ticket-of  leave  men  in  a  state  of  semi-freedom, 
could  get  little  or  no  employment.  The  supply  greatly  exceeded 
the  demand  ;  there  were  no  hirers  of  labour.  Had  the  colony  been 
as  large  and  as  prosperous  as  its  neiglfbour  it  could  scarcely  have 
absorbed  the  mass  of  workmen  ;  but  it  was  really  on  the  verge  of 
bankniptcy — its  finances  were  embarrassed,  its  trades  and  industries 
at  a  standstill.  But  not  only  were  the  convicts  idle  ;  they  were 
utterly  depraved.  It  was  soon  found  that  the  system  which  kept 
large  bodies  always  together  had  a  most  pernicious  effect  upon  their 
moral  condition.  "  The  congregation  of  criminals  in  large  balshe^ 
without  adequate  supervision  meant  simply  wholesale  widespread 
pollution,"  as  was  said  at  the  time.  These  ever-] 'resent  and  con- 
stantly increasing  evils  forced  the  Government  to  reconsider  its 
position  ;  and  in  1846  transportation  to  Van  Diemen's  Land  was 
temporarily  suspended  for  a  couple  of  years,  during  which  it  was 
hoped  some  relief  might  be  afforded.  The  formation  of  a  new  con- 
vict colony  in  North  Australia  had  been  contemplated  ;  but  the 
project,  warmly  espoused  by  Mr  Gladstone,  then  under  secretary  of 
state  for  the  colonies,  was  presently  abandoned  ;  and  it  now  became 
clear  that  no  resumption  of  transportation  was  possible. 

Some  fresh  scheme  had  to  be  devised,  and  that  with- 
out delay.  The  task  fell  upon  Sir  George  Grey  as  home 
secretary,  who,  in  dealing  with  it  laid  'the  foundations  of 
the  present  British  penal  system.  This  system  was  to 
consist  (1)  of  a  limited  period  of  separate  confinement  in 
a  home  prison  or  penitentiary,  accompanied  by  industrial 
employment  and  moral  training;  (2)  of  hard  labour  at 
some  public  works  prison  either  at  home  or'  abroad  ;  and 
(3)  of  exile  to  a  colony  with  a  conditional  pardon  or  ticket- 
of-leave.  No  pains  were  spared  to  give  effect  to  this  plan 
as  soon  as  it  was  decided  upon.  Pentonville  was  available 
for  the  first  phase ;  Slillbank  was  also  pressed  into  the 
service,  and  accommodation  was  hired  in  some  of  the  best 
provincial  prisons,  as  at  Wakefield,  Leicester,  and  else- 
where. Few  facilities  existed  for  carrying  out  the  second 
stage,  but  they  were  speedily  improvised.  Although  the 
hulks  at  home  had  been  condemned,  convict  establish- 
ments in  which  these  floating  prisons  still  formed  the 
principal  part  were  organized  at  Fermuda  and  Gibraltar. 
Neither  of  these,  it  may  be  stated  at  once,  was  a  con- 
spicuous success  ;  they  were  too  remote  for  efiective  super 
vision ;  and,  although  they  lingered  on  for  some  years, 
they  were  finally  condemned.  The  chief  efforts  of  the 
authorities  ware  directed  to  the  formation  of  public  works 
prisons  at  home,  and  here  the  most  satisfactory  results 
were  soon  obtained.  The  construction  of  a  harbour  of 
refuge  at  Portland  had  been  recommended  in  1845;  in 
i847  an  Act  was  i)assed  to  facilitate  the  purchase  of  land 


there,  and  a  sum  of  money  takeu  up  in  the  estimates  for 
the  erection  of  a  prison,  which  was  commenced  next  year. 
At  another  point  Dartmoor,  a  prison  already,  stood  avail- 
able, although  it  had  not  been  occupied  since  the  last  war, 
when  ten  thousand  French  and  American  prisoners  had 
been  incarcerated  in  it.  A  little  reconstruction  made 
Dartmoor  into  a  modern  jail,  and  in  the  waste  lands 
around  there  was  ample  labour  for  any  number  of  convict 
hands.  Dartmoor  was  opened  in  1850;  two  years  later 
a  convict  prison  was  established  at  Portsmouth  in  con- 
nexion with  the  dockyard,  and  another  of  the  same  class 
at  Chatham  in  1856.  The  works  undertaken  at  these 
various  statioi)s  were  of  national  importance,  and  the 
results  obtained  extremely  valuable,  as  will  presently  bo 
shown.  The  usefulness  of  these  public  works  prisons  and 
the  need  for  their  development  soon  became  ajiparent.' 
Although  the  authorities  still  clung  to  the  principle  of 
transportation,  that  pitnishment  grew  more  and  more 
difficult  to  inflict.  The  third  stage  in  Sir  George  Grey's 
scheme  contemplated  the  enforced  emigration  of  released 
convicts,  whom  the  discipline  of  separation  and  public 
works  was  supposed  to  have  purged  and  purified,  and  who 
would  have  better  hopes  of  entering  on  a  new  career  of 
honest  industry  in  a  new  country  than  wheu  thrown  back 
among  vicious  associations  at  home.  The  theory  was 
good,  the  practice  difficult.  No  colony  would  accept  these 
ticket-of-leave  men  as  a  gift.  Van  Diemen's  Land,  hither- 
to submissive,  rebelled,  and  positively  refused  to  receive 
them,  even  though  this  denial  cut  off  the  supply  of  labour, 
now  urgently  needed.  Other  colonies  were  no  less  resolute 
in  their  opposition.  Tlie  appearance  of  a  convict  ship 
at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  nearly  produced  a  revolt 
Athough  Earl  Grey  addressed  a  circular  to  all  colonial 
Governments,  offering  them  the  questionable  boon  of  trans- 
portation, ■  only  one,  the  comparatively  new  colony  of 
Western  Australia,  responded  in  the  affirmative.  But 
this  single  receptacle  could  not  absorb  a  tithe  of  the  whole 
number  of  convicts  awaiting  exile.  It  became  necessary 
therefore  to  find  some  other  means  for  the  disposal  of 
those  so  rapidly  accumulating  at  home.  Accordingly,  in 
1853  the  first  Penal  Servitude  Act  was  passed,  substitut- 
ing certain  shorter  sentences  of  penal  servitude  for  trans- 
portation. It  was  only  just  to  abbreviate  the  terms ; 
under  the  old  sentence  the  transportee  knew  that  if  well 
conducted  he  would  spend  the  greater  part  of  it  in  the 
comparative  freedom  of  exile.  But,  although  sentences 
were  shortened,  it  was  not  thought  safe  to  surrender  all 
control  over  the  released  convict ;  and  he  was  only  granted 
a  ticket-of-leave  for  the  unexpired  portion  of  his  original 
sentence.  But  no  effective  supervision  was  maintained 
over  these  convicts  at  large.  They  speedily  relapsed  into 
crime ;  their  numbers,  as  the  years  passed,  became  so 
great,  and  their  depredations  so  iserious,  especially  in 
garotte  robberies,  that  a  cry  of  indignation,  led  by  general 
alarm,  was  raised  against  the  system  which  exposed  society 
to  such  dangers.  There  was  a  vague  desire  to  return  to 
transportation — to  rid  the  country  once  more,  by  removal 
to  far-off  points,  of  the  criminals  who  preyed  upon  it.  The 
usual  panacea  for  all  public  grievances  was  presently  tried, 
and  the  system  with  which  Sir  Joshua  Jebb's  name  had 
come  to  be  iderUified  was  arraigned  before  a  select  com- 
mittee of  the  House  of  Commons  in  18C3. 

Before  reviewing  the  report  of  this  committee,  it  will  be 
well  to  retrace  our  steps  and  examine  the  phases  through 
which' prison  discipline  had  passed  since  1836.  We  left 
this,  which  embraces  the  preliminary  stages  of  secondary 
punishment,  at  a  date  when  public  attention  •  was  very 
generally  drawn  to  it.  The  true  object  of  penal  treatment 
had  begun  to  be  understood,  and  keen  controversy  liad 
I  arisen,  as   to   the   best   methods   for   securing;  it.    Jhia 


rRJLSOJN      iplaUlPLIKE 


763 


oiij.ct,  Lroadly  stated,  was  to  compass  the  reformation  of 
the  convicted  offender  and  at  the  same  time  deter  others 
from  crime.  The  chief  experiments  in  this  direction  had 
been  made  in  the  United  States,  -where  two  remarkable 
systems  of  penal  discipline  had  for  some  time  been  in 
operation.  Each  had  its  warm  supporters  and  friends. 
One  had  originated  with  the  Quakers  of  Pennsylvania,  who, 
as  far  back  as  1786,  had  abolished  capital  punishment  and, 
all  other  purely  personal  penalties,  and  had  subjected  all 
offenders  instead  to  solitary  confinement  without  occupa- 
tion for  mind  or  body.  This,  as  developed  in  the  years 
following,  became  the  purely  solitary  system,  and  was  the 
first  of  the  twg  methods  mentioned  above.  The  idea, 
although  not  absolutely  new.  having  been  already  accepted 
in  the  United  Kingdom  both  in  the  Gloucester  penitentiary 
and  the  Glasgow  bridewell,  was  hailed  with  enthusiasm  as 
a  solution  of  all  difficulties  of  prison  treatment.  Many 
other  States  in  the  Union  followed  the  lead  of  Pennsyl- 
vania. That  of  New  York  built  the  great  Auburn  peni- 
tentiary in  1816  to  carry  out  the  new  principles.  There 
every  prisoner  was  kept  continuously  in  complete  isolation. 
He  saw  no  one,  spoke  to  no  one,  and  did  no  work.  But 
within  a  short  period  very  deplorable  results  began  to  show 
themselves  at  Auburn.  Many  prisoners  became  insane ; 
'jealth  was  impaired,  and  life  greatly  endangered.  Mr 
Crawfurd,  whose  mission  to  the  United  States  has  been 
already  referred  to,  was  in  favour  of  solitary  confinement, 
but  he  could  not  deny  that  several  cases  of  suicide  followed 
this  isolation.  Some  relaxation  of  the  disastrous  severity 
seemed  desirable,  and  out  of  this  grew  the  second  great 
system,  which  was  presently  introduced  at  Auburn,  and 
afterwards  at  the  no  less  renowned  prison  of  Sing  Sing. 
It  was  calletl  the  silent  system.'  While  the  prisoners  were 
still  separated  at  night  or  meals,  they  were  suffered  to 
labour  in  association,  but  under  a  rule  of  silence  ruth- 
lessly and  rigorously  maintained.  The  latter,  entrusted 
to  irresponsible  subordinates,  degenerated  into  a  despotism 
which  brought  the  system  into  great  discredit.  All 
discipline  officers  were  permitted  to  wield  the  whip  sum- 
marily and  without  the  .slightest  check.  "  The  quantity 
of  punishment,"  says  Mr  Crawfurd,  "  is  entirely  dependent 
on  the  will  of  the  overseers,  against  whose  acts  there  is  no 
appeal."  Under  such  a  system  the  most  frightful  excesses 
were  possible,  and  many  cases  of  brutal  cruelty  were  laid 
bare.  Reviewing  the  merits  and  demerits  of  each  system, 
Mr  Crawfurd  gave  in  his  adhesion  to  that  of  unvarying 
solitude  as  pursued  in  the  Eastern  Penitentiary  in  Penn- 
sylvania. "  I  have  no  hesitation  in  declaring  my  con- 
viction," he  says, "  that  its  discipline  is  a  safe  and  efficacious 
mode  of  prison  management";  of  the  opposite  system,  that 
of  Auburn,  he  reports  that,  notwithstanding  the  order  and 
regularity  with  which  its  discipline  was  enforced,  "  its 
effects  were  greatly  overrated." 

Mr  Crawfurd  came  back  from  the  United  States  an 
ardent  champion  of  the  solitary  system.  To  use  his  own 
words,  "so  greatly  does  increasing  experience  prove  the 
importance  of  solitude  in  the  management  of  prisons  that 
I  could  not,  if  circumstances  admitted,  too  strongly  ad- 
vocate its  application  in  Great  Britain,  for  every  class  of 
offenders  as  well  as  for  persons  before  trial,  under  modifica- 
tions which  would  divest  seclusion  of  its  harshest  character." 
He  saw  great  difficulties  in  making  this  the  universal 
rule,  chief  among  which  was  the  enormous  expense  of 
l)roviding  suitable  prisons.  Some  modification  of  the  rule 
of  unbroken  solitude  would  bo  inevitable  ;  but  he  strongly 
urged  its  adoption  for  certain  classes,  and  ho  was  equally 
convinced  of  the  imperative  necessity  for  giving  every 
prisoner  a  separate  sleeping  cell.  It  is  clear  that  the 
Government  endorsed  Mr  Crawfurd's  views.  Where  it  was 
possible  they  gave  effect  to  them  at  once.     At  Millbaak, 

10--27 


with  its  spacious  solitary  cells,  the  rule  of  seclusion  was 
more  and  more  strictly  enforced  under  the  supervision  of 
a  reverend  governor,  also  a  warm  partisan  of  the  system. 
Ere  long  permissive  legislation  strove  to  disseminate  the 
new  principles.  In  1830  Lord  John  Kussell  had  given  it 
as  his  opinion  that  cellular  separation  was  desirable  in  all 
prisons.  But  it  was  not  until  1839  that  an  Act  was 
passed  which  laid  it  down  that  individuals  might  be  con- 
fined separately  and  apart  in  single  cells.  Even  now  the 
executive  did  not  insist  upon  the  construction  of  prisons 
on  a  new  plan.  It  only  set  a  good  example  by  under- 
taking the  erection  of  one  which  should  serve  as  a  model 
for  the  whole  country.  In  1840  the  first  stone  of  Pen- 
tonville  prison  was  laid;  and,  after  three  years  of  very 
considerable  outlay,  its  colls,  520  in  number,  were  occupied 
on  the  solitary,  or  more  exactly  the  separate,  system, — th(5 
latter  being  somewhat  less  rigorous  and  irksome  in  its 
restraints.  To  the  credit  of  many  local  jurisdictions,  they 
speedily  followed  the  lead  of  the  central  authority. 
Within  half  a  dozen  years  no  less  than  fifty-four  new 
prisons  were  built  on  the  Pentonville  plan,  which  now 
began  to  serve  generally  as  a  "model"  for  imitation,  not 
in  England  alone,  but  all  over  the  world.  That  able 
administrator  Sir  Joshua  Jebb,  who  presided  over  its 
erection,  may  fairly  claim  indeed  to  be  the  author  and 
originator  of  modern  prison  architecture. 

Other  jurisdictions  were  less  prompt  to  recognize  their 
responsibilities,  the  city  of  London  among  the  number. 
They  were  satisfied  with  small  makeshifts  and  modifica- 
tions, without  entering  upon  that  complete  and  radical 
reconstruction  which  could  alone  meet  the  case.  From 
this  inertness  there  followed  a  lamentable  want  of  uni- 
formity in  the  administration  of  legal  penalties.  Crimi- 
nals suffered  more  or  less  .punishment  according  to  the 
locality  in  which  they  were  incarcerated.  Dietaries 
differed — here  too  high,  there  too  low.  The  amount  of 
exercise  allowed  varied  greatly ;  there  was  no  universal 
rule  as  to  employment.  In  some  prisons  hard  labour  was 
insisted  upon,  and  embraced  treadwheels  or  the  newly 
invented  cranks ;  in  others  it  was  industrial,  devoted  to 
manufactures  ;  while  in  some  it  did  not  exist  at  all.  The 
cells  inhabited  by  prisoners  (and  separate  cellular  con- 
finement was  now  very  general)  were  of  different  dimen- 
sions,— variously  lighted,  warmed,  and  ventilated.  The' 
time  spent  in  these  cells  was  not  invariably  the  same,  and 
as  yet  no  authoritative  decision  had  been  made  between 
the  solitary  and  silent  systems.  The  first-named  had  been 
tried  at  Pentonville,  but  the  period  for  which  it  was 
deemed  po.ssible  had  been  greatly  reduced.  The  duration 
had  been  at  first  fi.xed  at  eighteen  months,  but  it  was  in- 
contestably  proved  that  the  prisoners'  minds  had  become 
enfeebled  by  this  long-isolation,  and  the  period  was  limited 
to  nine  months.  In  many  jurisdictions,  however,  tho 
silent  system,  or  that  of  associated  labour  in  silence,  was 
still  preferred;  and  there  might  bo  prisons  within  a  short 
distance  of  each  other  at  which  two  entirely  different 
systems  of  discipline  were  in  force.  In  1849  Mr  Charles 
Pearson,  M.P.,  moved  for  a  select  committee  to  report 
upon  the  best  means  of  securing  some  uniform  system 
which  should  bo  at  once  punitive,  reformatory,  and  self- 
supporting.  He  urged  that  all  existing  plans  were  ineffi- 
cacious, and  ho  advocated  a  new  scheme  by  which  the 
labour  of  all  prisoners  should  be  applied  to  agriculture 
in  district  prisons.  Tho  result  of  a  full  incjuiry  was  th« 
reiteration  of  views  already  accepted  in  theory,  but  not 
yet  generally  adopted  in  practice.  Tho  committee  re- 
commended separation,  so  long  as  it  was  conducted 
under  proper  safeguards  ;  it  animadverted  upon  the  great 
variety  which  still  existed  in  prison  disci[iline  and  the 
construction  of  jails  and  strongly  urged  the  legislature  to 


754 


P  E 


ISON     DISCIPLINE 


?iitrust  full  powers  to  some  central  authority  who  wouid 
pxact  adherence  to  the  rules  laid  down.  Thirteen  more 
years  elapsed  and  still  no  such  steps  had  been  taken.  A 
new  committee  sat  in  1863,  and  in  its  report  again  re- 
marked, and  in  no  measured  terms,  upon  the  many  and 
wide  differences  that  still  existed  in  the  jails  of  Great 
Britain  as  regards  construction,  diet,  labour,  and  general 
discipline,  "leading  to  an  inequality,  uncertainty,  and 
inefficiency  of  punishment  productive  of  the  most  pre- 
judicial results."  Even  yet  separation  was  not  univer- 
sal ;  labour,  dietaries,  education — everything  varied  still. 
Matters  could  'only  be  mended  by  the  exercise  of  legisla- 
tive authority,  and  this  came  in  the  Prison  Act  of  1865, 
an  Act  which  consolidated  all  previous  statutes  on  the 
Bubject  of  prison  discipline,  many  of  its  provisions  being 
still  in  force.  It  promulgated  minute  and  precise  regula- 
tions on  every  item  of  prison  management,  and  backed 
them  up  with  pains  and  penalties  that  ought  to  have 
ensured  attention.  Yet  the  years  passed  and  uniformity 
was  still  far  from  secured ;  it  was  impossible,  indeed, 
while  prison  administration  was  still  left  to  a  number  of 
local  authorities,  no  two  of  which  were  often  of  the  same 
mind.  Great  varieties  of  practice  still  obtained.  The 
number  of  feet  ascended  at  hard  labour  on  the  treadwheel 
differed  in  different  districts ;  each  jurisdiction  still  pleased 
itself  as  to  dietaries  ;  and  it  was  still,  as  of  old,  a  mere 
accident  of  locality  whether  imprisonment  was  light  or 
heavy.  The  legislature  had  tried  its  best,  but  its  best 
had  failed.  It  had  exercised  some  supervision  through  its 
inspectors,  had  forbidden  cells  to  be  used  until  duly  certi- 
fied as  fit,  had  threatened  to  withhold  exchequer  contri- 
butions from  prisons  of  which  unfavourable  reports  were  re- 
ceived. Such  penalties  had  exercised  no  sufficient  terrors. 
It  began  to  be  understood,  moreover,  that  the  prisons 
under  local  jurisdictions  were  not  always  conveniently 
and  economically  situated.  In  one  district  there  might  be 
too  many,  in  another  not  enough  ;  one  prison  was  enipty 
and  its  neighbour  full  to  overflowing ;  yet  there  was 
no  power  to  make  transfers  and  equalize  accommodation. 
All  this  produced  excessive,  even  wasteful,  e.xpenditure. 
Nor  was  its  incidence,  under  altered  conditions,  exactly 
fair.  Crime,  with  the  many  facilities  offered  for  rapid 
locomotion  to  those  who  committed  it,  had  ceased  to  be 
merely  local,  and  the  whole  state  rather  than  individual 
communities  ought  to  be  taxed ;  prison  charges  should  be 
borne  by  the  exchequer,  and  not  by  local  rates.  These 
considerations  gained  strength,  and  led  at  length  to  the 
introduction  of  the  Prison  Bill  which  became  law  in  1877, 
and  which  is  the  last  Act  passed  for  the  regulation  of 
prisons.  By  the  Act  of  1877  the  control  of  all  jails  was 
vested  in  a  body  of  prison  commissioners  appointed  by, 
and  responsible  to,  the  home  secretary.  These  commis- 
sioners had  power  to  consolidate  by  closing  superfluous 
prisons,  to  establish  one  system  of  discipline,  and  gene- 
rally by  watchful  supervision,  aided  by  the  experience 
of  specialists,  to  maintain  that  much  desired  uniformity 
which  had  been  so  long  and  unsuccessfully  sought.  At 
the  same  time  the  co-operation  of  the  local  magistrates  was 
invited  so  far  as  advice  and  assistance  were  concerned ; 
but  all  real  power  and  control  had  passed  from  their  hands 
into  that  of  the  commissioners  of  prisons.  The  system 
establiBhed  by  the  Act  of  1877  is  that  now  in  force,  and 
we  shall  recur  to  it  directly,  in  recapitulating  the  whole  Of 
our  present  method  of  secondary  punishment. 

Meanwhile  considerable  changes  had  been  introduced 
into  penal  .servitude,  the  punishment  reserved  for  the 
gravest  offences.  We  left  this  branch  of  the  subject  at  a 
date  (1863)  when  its  efficiency  was  about  to  be  tested  by 
a  parliamentary  inquiry.  The  verdict  given  was  in  the 
main  satisfactory;  but  doubts  were  expressed  as  to  the 


severity  of  the  discipline  inflicted,  the  principal  features  of 
which  were  moderate  labour,  ample  diet,  and  substantial 
gratuities.  The  first  was  far  less  than  the  work  free  men 
did  for  a  livelihood,  the  second  larger,  the  third  exces- 
sive, so  that  convicts  often  left  prison  with  thirty,  forty, 
even  eighty  pounds  in  their  pockets.  Penal  servitude,  to 
use  the  words  of  the  lord  chief  justice.  Sir  Alexander 
Cockburn,  one  of  the  members  of  the  committee,  "  was 
hardly  calculated  to  produce  on  the  mind  of  the  criminal 
that  salutary  dread  of  the  recurrence  of  the  punishment 
which  may  be  the  means  of  deterring  him,  and  through 
his  example  others,  from  the  commission  of  crime."  The 
chief  recommendations  put  forward  to  mend  the  system 
comprised  lengthening  of  all  sentences,  a  diminution  in 
the  dietaries,  the  abolition  of  large  gratuities,  and,  speak- 
ing broadly,  a  general  tightening  of  the  reins.  The  most 
notable  change,  however,  was  in  regard  to  labour,  the 
quantity  and  value  of  which  was  to  be  regulated  in  future 
by  the  so-called  "  mark  system."  This  plan  had  originated 
with  Captain  Maconochie,  at  one  time  superintendent 
in  Norfolk  Island,  who  had  recommended  that  the  punish- 
ment inflicted  upon  criminals  should  be  measured,  not 
by  time,  but  by  the  amount  of  labour  actually  performed. 
In  support  of  his  theory  he  devised  an  ingenious  system 
of  recording  the  convicts'  daily  industry  by  marks,  which 
on  reaching  a  given  total  would  entitle  them  to  their 
release.  The  mark  system  had  already  been  tried  with 
good  results  in  Ireland,  where  the  Irish  system,  as  it  was 
called,  introduced  by  Sir  Walter  Crofton  had  attracted 
widespread  attention  from  the  extraordinary  success  which 
seemed  to  follow  it.  There  had  been  a  very  marked 
diminution  in  crime,  attributable  it  was  supposed  to  the 
system,  which  was  in  almost  all  respects  th^  same  as  the 
English,  although  the  Irish  authorities  had  invented  an 
"  intermediate  stage  "  in  which  convicts  worked  in  a  state 
of  semi-freedom,  and  thus  practised  the  self-reliance  which 
in  many  superinduced  reform.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the 
diminution  in  crime  was  traceable  to  general  causes,  such 
as  a 'general  exodus  by  emigration,  the  introduction  of  a 
poor  law,  and  an  increase  in  the  facilities  for  earning  an 
honest  livelihood.  It  may  be  added  here  that,  judged 
by  later  experience,  the  Irish  system  has  evinced  no 
transcendent  merits,  and  it  is  now  (1885)  moribund. 
But  we  owe  something  to  the  Irish  practice  which  first 
popularized  the  idea  of  maintaining  a  strict  supervision 
over  convicts  in  a  state  of  conditional  release,  and  it  recon- 
ciled us  to  a  system  which  was  long  wrongfully  stigmatized 
as  espionage.  The  mark  system,  as  recommended  by  the 
committee  of  1863,  and  as  subsequently  introduced,  had, 
however,  little  in  common  with  either  Maconochie's  or  the 
Irish  plan.  It  was  similar  in  principle,  and  that  was  all. 
According  to  the  conjmittee  every  convict  should  have  it  in 
his  power  to  earn  a  remission — in  other  words,  to  shorten 
his  sentence  by  his  industry.  This  industry  was  to  be 
measured  by  marks,  earned  by  hard  labour  at  the  public 
works,  after  a  short  probational  term  of  close  "  separate " 
confinement.  But  the  remission  gained  did  not  mean 
absolute  release.  All  males  were  to  be  sent,  during  the 
latter  part  of  their  sentences,  ''  without  disguise  to  a 
thinly  peopled  colony,"  to  work  out  their  time  and  their 
own  rehabilitation.  The  committee,  it  will  be  seen,  still 
clung  to  the  old  theory  of  transportation,  and  this  in  spite 
of  the  lively  protests  of  some  of  its  members.  The  one 
outlet  remaining,  however,  that  of  Western  Australia,  was 
soon  afterwards  (1867)  closed  to  convict  emigrants;  and 
this  part  of  the  committee's  recommendations  became  a 
dead  letter.  Not  so  the  mark  system,  or  the  plan  of 
earning  remission  by  steady  industry.  This  was  carried 
out  on  a  broad  and  intelligent  basis  by  officials  prompt  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  advantages  it  offered  :  a  readiness 


PRISON     DISCIPLINE 


755 


to  move  with  the  times,  to  adopt  suggestions  tending 
towards  improvement,  and  generally  to  benefit  by  external 
advice  and  experience,  has  always  characterized  convict 
prison  administration  in  recent  years.  Remedies  have 
been  at  once  applied  where  flaws  were  found.  Thus  in 
1877-78  efforts  were  made  to  minimize  contamination  by 
segregating  the  worst  criminals,  and  restricting  conversa- 
tion at  exercise.  Again,  the  recommendation  of  the  latest 
commission  of  inquiry,  that  of  1878-79,  tending  in  the 
same  direction  was  immediately  adopted,  and  a  special 
class  was  formed  in  1880  in  which  all  convicts  "not 
versed  in  crime,"  first  offenders  or  at  least  comparatively 
innocent  men,  are  now  kept  apart  from  the  older  and 
more  hardened  criminals.  \Miile  these  concessions  have 
been  cheerfully  made,  the  stern  necessities  of  a  penal 
system  have  been  rigorously  maintained.  The  committee 
last  quoted  gave  it  as  their  opinion  that  "  penal  servitude 
as  at  present  administered  is  on  the  whole  satisfactory  ; 
it  is   eff"ective   as   a  punishment   and  free   from   serious 

abuses ; a  sentence  of  penal  servitude  is  now 

generally  an  object  of  dread  to  the  criminal  population." 
This  change  is  ascribed  to  the  various  improvements  in- 
troduced— "longer  sentences,  spare  diet,  and  generally  a 
more  strict  enforcement  of  work  and  discipline." 

Having  thus  traced  the  history  of  secondary  punish- 
ments and  prison  discipline  in  England  from  the  earliest 
times  to  the  present  day,  it  will  be  well  to  describe  briefly 
the  system  of  penal  repression  as  now  actually  in  force. 
This  will  best  be  effected  by  following  those  who  break 
the  law  through  all  stages  from  that  of  arrest,  through 
conviction,  to  release,  conditional  or  complete.  After  a 
short  detention  in  a  police  cell — places  of  durance  which 
still  need  improvement  —  an  offender,  unless  disposed  of 
summarily,  passes  into  one  of  Her  Majesty's  local  prisons, 
there  to  'await  his  trial  at  sessions  or  assizes.  The  period 
thus  spent  in  the  provinces  will  never  exceed  three  months  ; 
in  London,  with  the  frequent  sittings  at  Clerkenwell  and 
of  the  Central  Criminal  Court,  it  is  seldom  more  than  one 
month.  While  awaiting  trial  the  prisoner  may  wear  his 
own  clothes,  provide  his  own  food,  see  and  communicate 
with  his  friends 'and  legal  adviser,  so  as  to  prepare  fully 
for  his  defence.  His  fate  after  conviction  depends  on  his 
sentence.  If  this  be  imprisonment,  so  called  to  distin- 
guish it  from  penal  servitude,  although  both  moan  depriva- 
tion of  liberty  and  are  closely  akin,  it  is  undergone  in  one 
of  the  "local"  prisons — the  prisons  till  1878  under  local 
jurisdiction,  but  now  entirely  controlled  by  the  state 
through  the  home  secretary  and  the  eJommissioners  of 
prisons.  The  r(5gime  undergone  is  cellular ;  able-bodied 
prisoners  are  kept  in  strict  separation  for  at  least  one 
month,  and  during  that  time  subjected  to  first-class  hard 
labour,  which  is  purely  penal  in  character ;  and  nowa- 
days, under  the  uniform  system  introduced  by  the  commis- 
sioners, consists  of  the  treadwheel,  in  which  each  indivi- 
dual ascends  8G40  feet  in  a  day's  work,  or  six  hours' 
work  on  cranks  or  hard  Jabour  machines  is  exacted  where 
there  are  no  treadwhefels ;  and  the  labour,  whether  of 
treadwheel  or  crank,  is  generally  utilized  as  the  motive 
power  for  grinding  corn  or  pumping  water  for  prison  use. 
Beating  oakum  with  a  heavy  beater  ami  mat-making  with 
heavy  implements  are  also  considered  first-class  hard 
labour.  A  system  of  progressive  stages  not  unlike  the 
mark  system  has  been  adopted  in  the  local  prisons,  and 
the  prisoner's  progress  through  each  depends  on  his  own 
industry  and  good  conduct.  During  the  first  month  ho 
sleeps  on  a  plank  bed,  a  wooden  frame  raised  from  the 
floor,  with  bedding  but  without  mattress.  When  he  has 
earned  the  proper  number  of  marks,  which  at  the  earliest 
cannot  be  until  one  month  has  elapsed,  he  passes  into  the 
second  stage,  and  is  allowed  better  diet,  and  a  mattress  twice 


a  week.  The  third  stage,  at  the  end  of  the  third  month, 
gives  him  further  privileges  as  regards  diet  and  bed.  The 
fourth  stage  concedes  to  the  prisoner  a  mattress  every 
night,  and  the  privilege,  if  well  conducted,  to  communi- 
cate by  letter  or  through  visits  with  his  friends  outside. 
These  stages  are  applicable  to  females  except  as  regards 
the  plank  bed ;  while  youths  under  sixteen  and  old  men 
above  sixty  are  also  allowed  mattresses.  A  small  gratuity 
may  be  earned  during  the  second  and  three  following 
stages,  amounting  in  the  aggregate  to  ten  shillings.  The 
labour,  too,  may  be  industrial,  and  include  instruction 
in  tailoring,  shoemaking,  basket-making,  book-binding, 
printing,  and  many  more  handicrafts.  Throughout  the 
sentence  the  prisoner  has  the  advantage  of  religious  and 
moral  instruction  ;  he  attends  divine  service  regularly  and 
according  to  his  creed,  is  visited  by  the  chaplain,  and 
receives  educational  assistance  according  to  his  needs. 
His  physical  welfare  is  watched  over  by  competent  medi- 
cal men;  close  attention  is  paid" to  the  sanitary  condition 
of  prisons ;  strict  rules  govern  the  size  of  the  cells,  with 
their  lighting,  warming,  and  ventilation.  Dietaries  are 
everywhere  the  same ;  they  are  calculated  with  great 
nicety  according  to  the  terms  of  durance,  and  afford 
variety  and  ample  nutrition  without  running  into  excess. 
In  a  word,  as  regards  discipline,  labour,  treatment,  exactly 
the  same  system  obtains  throughout  the  United  Kingdom 
from  Bodmin  to  the  far  north,  from  Cork  to  Belfast. 

Where  the  sentence  passes  beyond  two  years  it  ceases 
to  be  styled  imprisonment  and  becomes  penal  servitude, 
which  may  be  inflicted  for  any  period  from  five  years  to 
life.  The  prisoner  becomes  a  convict,  and  undergoes  his 
penalty  in  one  or  more  of  the  convict  prisons.  These 
are  entirely  under  state  management.  A  sentence  of 
penal  servitude,  as  now  administered,  consists  of  three 
distinct  periods  or  stages  : — (1)  that  of  probation  endyred 
in  separate  confinement  at  a  so-called  "  close "  prison ; 
(2)  a  period  of  labour  in  association  at  a  public  works 
prison ;  and  (3)  conditional  release  for  the  unexpired 
portion  of  the  sentence  upon  licence  or  ticket-of-leave. 
(1)  In  the  first  stage,  which  is  limited  to  nine  months 
for  reasons  already  given,  the  convict  passes  his  whole 
time  in  his  cell  apart  from  otter  prisoners,  engaged  at 
some  industrial  employment.  He  exercises  and  goes  to 
chapel  daily  in  the  society  of  others,  but  holds  no  com- 
munication with  them ;  his  only  intercourse  with  his 
fellow  creatures  is  when  he  is  visited  by  the  governor,' 
chaplain,  schoolmaster,  or  trade  instructor.  This  period 
of  almost  unbroken  solitude,  when  the  mind,  thromi  in  on 
itself,  is  supposed  to  be  peculiarly  open  to  lessons  of  ad- 
monition and  warning,  is  one  of  severely  penal  character, 
and  its  duration  has  therefore  been  wisely  limited.  It  is 
deemed,  moreover,  that  perpetual  seclusion  in  a  cell  is  an 
artificial  state  of  existence,  that  its  infliction  for  long 
terms  would  altogether  unfit  an  offender  for  a  return  to 
the  ordinary  conditions  of  daily  life.  (2)  The  second  is 
a  longer  stage,  and  endures  for  the  whole  or  a  greater 
part  of  the  remainder  of  the  sentence, — its  duration  being 
governed  by  the  power  a  convict  holds  in  his  own  hands 
to  earn  a  remission.  It  is-  passed  at  a  public  works 
prison, — either  at  Borstal,  Chatham,  Chattendcn,  Ports- 
mouth, Tortland,  Dartmoor,  or  (for  the  present)  Worm- 
wood Scrubs.  While  cellular  separation,  except  at  work, 
at  prayers,  or  exercise,  is  strictly  maintained,  labour  is 
in  association  under  the  close  and  constant  supervision  of 
oflicial.s.  Intercommunication  no  doubt  takes  place ;  men 
working  together  in  quarry,  brickfield,  or  barrow-run,  and 
out  of  earshot  of  their  guardians,  may  and  do  converse  at 
times.  But  the  work  is  too  arduous  to  allow  of  long  and 
desultory  conversation  ;  while  the  chance  of  mutual  con- 
tamination is  .now  minimized  by  tbn  separation  of  the  less 


756 


PEISON      DISCIPLINE 


hardened  from  the  old  offenders  in  the  manner  aircaay 
pointed  out.  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  any 
frreat  evils  result  from  this  association,  and  without  it  the 
execution  of  the  many  imiiortant  national  public  works 
which  now  attest  its  value  would  have  been  impossible. 
Among  these  may  be  mentioned  the  following : — the 
quarrying  of  stone  for  the  great  Portland  breakwater, 
which  is  nearly  2  miles  in  length,  and  between  .')0  and  CO 
feet  deep  in  the  sea,  with  the  defensive  works  on  the 
V'erne,  batteries,  casemates,  and  barracks  intended  to 
render  the  island  of  Portland  impregnable,  and  the  enlarge- 
ment and  extension  of  the  dockyards  at  Chatham  and 
Portsmouth;  at  the  former  tlu'ee  grand  basins  20,  21, 
and  28  acres  respectively  in  extent  have  been  completed 
on  the  marshy  lands  and  reaches  of  the  Med  way,  and  at 
the  latter  extensive  operations  of  the  same  kind  have  long 
been  in  progress.  At  Borstal  a  line  of  forts  intended  to 
protect  Chatham  on  the  southern  and  western  side  are 
being  erected  by  convicts ;  they  are  also  building  maga- 
zines at  Chattenden  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Medway ; 
they  will  soon  be  at  work  at  Dover  on  the  vast  improve- 
ments for  the  enlargement  of  the  harbour  and  port.  Be- 
sides this,  convict  labour  has  been  usefully  employed  in 
the  erection  of  prison  buildings  at  new  points  or  in  exten- 
sion of  those  at  the  old ;  at  Borstal  cells  for  five  hundred, 
and  at-  Wormwood  Scrubs  for  ten  hundred  and  fifty-two 
have  been  built,  with  chapel,  quarters,  hospitals,  and  so 
forth ;  large  additions  have  been  made  to  the  prisons  of 
Woking,  Pentonville,  Chatham,  Portsmouth,  Dartmoor, 
Parkhurst,  and  Brixton.  In  all  cases  the  bricks  have 
been  made,  the  stone  quarried  and  dressed,  the  timber 
.sawn,  the  iron  cast,  forged,  and  wrought  by  the  prisoners ; 
only  one  article  was  bought  ready  made,  and  that  was  the 
locks.  The  great  merit  of  this  system  is  the  skill  acquired 
in  handicrafts  by  so  many  otherwise  idle  and  useless 
iiands.  Convict  mechanics  are  rarely  found  ready  made. 
A  return  dated  July  1S82  shows  that  82  per  cent,  of  the 
total  number  employe-  j,t  trades  had  learnt  them  in 
prison.  These  results  are  no  doubt  greatly  aided  by  the 
judicious  stimulus  given  to  the  highest  effort  by  the  mark 
system.  The  chief  objection  to  enforced  labour  has  been 
the  difficulty  in  ensuring  this ;  but  the  convict  nowadays 
eagerly  tries  his  best,  because  onlj-  thus  can  he  win  privi- 
leges while  in  prison  and  an  earlier  release  from  it.  Every 
day's  work  is  gauged,  and  marks  recorded  according  to  its 
value  ;  upon  the  total  earned  depend  his  passage  through 
the  stages  or  classes  which  regulate  his  diet  and  general 
treatment,  and  more  especially  his  interviews  and  com- 
munications with  his  relations  and  friends.  Y^t  more; 
steady  willing  labour  continuously  performed  will  earn  a 
remission  of  a  fourth  of  the  sentence,  less  the  time  spent 
in  separate  confinement.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that 
the  marks  thus  earned  may  be  forfeited  at  any  time  by 
misconduct,  but  only  to  this  extent  does  conduct  affect 
remission,  and  the  latter  is  really  directly  dependent  upon 
industry.  The  full  remission  in  a  five  years'  sentence  is 
one  year  and  twenty-three  days ;  in  seven  years,  one  year 
two  hundred  and  seventy-three  days  ;  in  fourteen,  three 
years  one  hundred  and  eighty-one  days ;  in  twenty,  four 
years  eighty-six  days.  "  Lifers  "  cannot  claim  any  remis- 
sion, but  their  cases  are  brought  forward  at  the  end  of 
twenty  years,  and  then  considered  on  their  merits.  (3) 
Having  earned  his  remission,  the  convict  enters  upon  the 
third  stage  of  his  punishment.  He  is  released,  but  only 
conditionally,  on  licence  or  ticket-of-leave.  This  permis- 
sion to  be  at  large  may  easily  be  forfeited.  Stringent 
conditions  are  enilorsed  upon  the  licence,  and  well  known 
to  every  licence  holder.  He  has  to  produce  the  licence 
when  called  upon  ;  he  must  not  break  the  law,  nor  asso- 
ciate with   notoriously  bad  characters,   nor  lead_  an  idle 


dissolute  life,  without  visible  means  of  obtaining  an  honest 
livelihood.  The  observance  of  these  rules  is  enforced  by 
the  police,  to  whom  Acts  known  as  the  Prevention  of 
Crimes  Acts  give  large  powers.  The  licence  holder  is 
ordered  to  report  himself  at  intervals  to  the  police,  to 
whom  also  he  must  notify  any  change  in  his  place  of 
residence ;  he  must  take  care  that  he  is  not  found  in 
any  suspicious  locality  under  suspicious  circumstances.  A 
breach  of  the  regulations  may  entail  the  forfeiture  of  the 
licence,  with  imprisonment  and  the  obligation  to  return  to 
a  convict  prison  to  serve  out  the  unexpired  term  of  penal 
servitude.  Police  supervision  by  special  sentence  of  a 
court  may  be  extended  in  the  case  of  habitual  criminals 
to  longer  periods  than  that  of  the  original  sentence.  An 
elaborate  machinery  also  exists  for  the  registration  of 
these  habitual  criminals,  and  voluminous  official  records 
are  regularly  published  and  circulated  giving  detailed  in- 
formation, distinctive  marks,  and  previous  history,  to  enable 
the  police  in  all  parts  of  the  country  to  identify  habitual 
criminals.  A  system  so  rigorous  towards  offenders  who 
have  already  expiated  their  crimes  may  be  deemed  to  bear 
heavily  on  any  who  have  repented  of  their  evil  ways  and 
are  anxious  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf.  To  be  ever  sub- 
jected to  the  intrusive  watchfulness  of  the  myrmidons  of 
the  law  must  often  increase  the  licence  holder's  difficulty 
of  leading  an  honest  life.  The  struggle  is  often  severe ; 
employers  of  labour  are  not  too  ready  to  accept  the 
services  of  "jail  birds,"  and  free  workmen  often  resent 
the  admission  of  an  old  convict  amongst  their  number. 
Private  charity  has  happily  come  forward  to  diminish  or 
remove  this  hardship,  and  many  societies  have  been  called 
into  existence  for  the  special  purpose  of  assisting  dis- 
charged prisoners.  The  first  of  these,  now  honoured  with 
the  title  of  "Royal,"  was  organized  in  1856,  and  had 
assisted,  up  to  1879,  some  eleven  thousand  prisoners. 
This  society  labours  chiefly  in  the  metropolis ;  it  is  sup- 
ported by  private  subscriptions,  but  it  has  control  also 
over  the  gratuities  of  the  licensees  who  accept  its  aid. 
The  prisoners  on  release  are  first  examined  at  the  society's 
oftlce  as  to  their  prospects  and  wishes ;  they  are  given 
some  pocket  money  out  of  their  own  gratuities ;  and  their 
"  liberty  clothing,"  a  present  from  the  prison,  is  changed 
for  more  suitable  clothes.  They  are  then  placed  in 
respectable  lodging-houses  until  in  due  course  employ- 
ment is  obtained  for.  them,  after  which  the  society  under- 
takes the  reporting  to  the  police,  and  by  its  own  agents 
exercises  a  watchful  care  over  its  proteges.  There  are  now 
upwards  of  twenty  societies  established  in  various  parts  of 
the  country,  and  the  number  is  rapidly  increasing. 

The  foregoing  system  is  applicable  more  particularly 
to  adult  males ;  but  for  females  the  rules  are  much  the 
same  as  regards  imprisonment  and  penal  servitude.  But 
the  remission  a  female  convict  can  earn  is  greater,  and 
amounts  to  a  third  of  the  sentence,  less  the  separate  con- 
finement. Moreover,  female  convicts  whose  conduct  and 
character  warrant  a  hope  of  complete  amendment  are 
admitted  into  "  refuges "  nine  months  before  the  date  of 
their  conditional  release  on  leave.  There  are  two  of  these 
refuges,  which  are  more  like  "  homes  "  than  prisons, — the 
Westminster  Memorial  Refuge  at  Streatham  for  Protest- 
ants,' and  the  East  End  House,  Finchley,  for  Roman 
Catholics.  The  training  of  these  refuges  is  calculated  to  fit 
the  licensee  for  more  complete  freedom,  and  many  of  the 
women  who  go  from  them  into  the  world  do  well.  The 
aid  societies  also  help  effectually  in  obtaining  situations, 
often  very  good  ones,  for  the  released  female  convicts. 

Juvenile  criminals  are  now  subjected  to  special  treat- 
ment. Young  offenders,  although  liable  to  be  treated  as 
adults  by  the  court  before  which  they  are  brought,  are 
generally   dealt   with   summarily  under   various   powers. 


PRISON      DISCIPLINE 


757 


exercised,  in  some  cases  in  England  and  Ireland,  with  the 
consent  of  the  accused,  or,  in  the  case  of  a  child,  of  the 
liarent  or  guardian.  The  discretionary  powers  of  summary 
courts  are  wide,  ranging  in  many  cases  from  dismissal 
(although  the  charge  is  proved)  to  payment  of  damages  and 
costs,  or  fine,  or  limited  imprisonment,  and  in  the  case  of  a 
male  child  with  private  whipping  either  in  addition  to  or 
instead  of  any  other  punishment ;  and  whipping  in  addi- 
tion to  other  punishment  may  be  imposed  by  all  courts  on 
the  trial  of  male  offenders  under  sixteen  for  the  majority 
.»f  offences.  For  the  very  important  power  of  relegating 
juvenile  offenders  to  reformatory  schools  and  vagrant  and 
'leglected  children  to  industrial  schools  see  the  separate 
article.  Reformatory  and  Industrial  Schools  {q.v.}. 

Juvenile  offenders  and  children  while  detained  in  re- 
formatory or  industrial  schools  are  not  subject  to  prison 
discipline,  but  the  rules  for  the  management  and  dis- 
cipline of  the  schools  and  the  detention  in  them  may  be 
enforced  by  imprisonment.  Very  beneficial  results  as  re- 
gards the  diminution  of  crimes  are  undoubtedly  obtained 
by  various  institutions,  both  public  and  private.  The 
possible  criminal  is  removed  from  evil  associations  while 
still  amenable  to  better  influences ;  and  while  still  malle- 
able he  is  taught  to  labour  honestly  with  his  hands. 
Prison  statistics,  more  especially  of  the  convict  prisons, 
show  a  marked  decrease  in  the  number  of  youthful 
offenders  In  durance,  and  it  is  reasonble  to  suppose  that 
from  the  causes  above  mentioned  there  is  a  gradual 
stoppage  in  the  supply.  In  the  ten  years  between  1871 
and  1881  the  number  in  custody  of  ages  between  fifteen 
to  twenty-four  fell  from  2948  to  1957,  and  this  although 
the  general  population  had  increased  four  millions.  The 
same  reduction  has  shown  itself  as  regards  the  number  of 
the  same  ages  in  local  prisons ;  and  it  is  clear  that  the 
improvement  is  general. 

Uniformity  in  prison  discipline  is  now  general  through- 
out the  United  Kingdom.  The  Prisons  Act  of  1877  also 
extended  to  Scotland  and  Ireland,  and  in  both  those 
countries  the  systen-  of  imprisonment  for  terms  of  two 
years  and  under  has  been  assimilated  to  that  in  force  in 
England.  As  regards  penal  servitude,  convicts  pass  through 
the  same  stages  or  periods;  but  Scottish  convicts,  after 
undergoing  their  separate  confinement  in  the  general 
prison  at  Perth,  have  been  drafted  into  the  English  public 
works  prisons.  Of  late  there  has  been  a  movement  towards 
securing  some  of  the  advantages  of  conyict  labour  for 
works  north  of  the  Tweed,  and  it  is  probable  that  harbour 
works  will  soon  be  undertaken  at  one  or  more  points  on 
the  Scottish  coast.  For  Ireland,  the  progressive  periods  arc 
passed  in  that  country, — separate  confinement  in  Mountjoy 
prison,  public  works  at  Spike  Island.  The  administration 
of  prisons  has  also  been  assimilated  in  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland,  and  has  been  centralized  in  each  capital  under  the 
authority  of  the  state.  Boards  of  prison  commissioners  in 
London,  Edinburgh,  and  Dublin,  and  acting  under  the 
immediate  orders  of  the  executive,  control  all  local  prison 
aflairs,  including  finance,  victualling,  clothing,  the  appoint- 
ment of  officers  of  all  grades,  and  the  discipline  of  prisoners. 
The  English  convicts  arc  still  managed  by  an  independent 
board  called  the  directors  of  convict  prisons,  but  both 
commissioners  and  directors  have  the  same  chairman  and 
chief,  while  the  stall'  of  clerks  and  accountants  and  store- 
keepers— in  a  word,  the  whole  administrative  machinery — 
is  identical  for  both.  The  welfare  of  the  inmates  of  all 
prisons  is  not,  However,  left  entirely  at  the  discretion  of 
official  managers.  The  local  magistracy  have  still  a 
certain  jurisdiction  in  the  local  prisons  ;  through  elected  re- 
presentatives styled  "visiting  committees,"  they  Constantly 
inspect  the  jirisons  and  exercise  supervision  over  their 
inmates.     Tliey  have  retained  their  powf.r  to  punish  and 


generally  deal  with  all  cases  of  aggravated  misconduct. 
The  functions  e-xercised  by  these  visiting  committees 
might  seem  to  constitute  a  dual  authority  in  prison 
management.  But  so  far  the  two  powers  have  worked 
harmoniously  and  well.  Since  1880  unofficial  and  unpaid 
visitors  have  also  been  appointed  to  undertake  an  inde- 
pendent inspection  of  the  convict  prisons.  This  practice 
was  introduced,  not  on  account  of  any  administrative 
failure  in  the  system,  but  as  a  safeguard  against  possible 
abuses,  and  to  strengthen  public  confidence.  These 
visitors  can  ^ive  no  orders,  but  they  are  empowered  to 
make  full  inquiries  into  the  state  of  the  prisoners  and  the 
condition  aud  discipline  of  the  prison. 

The  sum  voted  in  1883-84  for  convict  establishments 
in  England  was  £414,463,  but  this  includes  £18,100  for 
expenditure  in  colonies  where  a  few  imperial  convicts  still 
survive,  and  grants  in  aid  of  colonial  magistrates,  police, 
and  jails.  The  vote  for  local  prisons  in  the  same  year  was 
.^481,852.  The  returns  from  male  prisoners'  labour  in  the 
convict  prisons  in  1883-84  amounted  to  £248,995,  lis.  3d. 
Of  this  total,  £121,956,  5s.  2d.  represented  the  estimated 
value_,  by  measurement,  of  labour  on  public  works,  and 
£42,159,  8s.  4d.  more  the  value  of  prison  biiildings  erected, 
while  the  earnings  in  manufactures  amounted  to  £37,581, 
8s.  8d.  The  balance  was  the  farm  and  the  work  performed 
for  the  prisons.  The  female  convicts'  labour  amounted  in 
the  same  year  to  £9933,  9s.  5d.,  half  of  which  was  in 
washing  and  manufactures.  In  the  local  prisons  in  England 
manufactures  brought  in  £39,790,  3s.  lid.  The  value  ot 
the  labour  on  prison  buildings  was  £24,510,  4s.  2d.,  and 
that  in  the  service  of  the  prisons  £59,562,  Os.  8d.  Thd 
prison  vote  in  Scotland  for  1883-84  was  £110,170,  the 
returns  from  earnings  £6000  :  in  Ireland  the  vote  was 
£145,689  and  the  earnings  £4000.  The  above  terms  of 
expenditure  include  all  outlay — staff  (superior  and  sub- 
ordinate), maintenance,  travelling  expenses,  itc.  • 

Most  civilized  nations  havo  consiJered  the  question  of  prison 
discipline  fioni  time  to  time,  and  havo  cndeavouiod,  but  with 
varying  degrees  of  earnestness,  to  conform  to  accepted  modern  ideas 
as  to  the  jnoptr  method  of  dealing  with  criminals.  Tlio  subject 
has  also  hecn  dealt  with  at  two  international  congresses,  one  ot 
which  assembled  in  London  in  1873,  and  the  other  at  Stockholm 
in  1878,  when  views  were  exchanged  and  matters  of  much  interest 
discussed.  It  is  proposed  now  to  supplement  the  foregoing  account 
of  British  prison  discipline  by  a  brief  survey  of  the  prison  system.s 
in  lorce  m  the  British  dependencies  and  in  various  other  countri("i. 

British  Colonics  and  India. — The  prison  systems  of  most  of  the 
British  colonies  have  been  assimilated  as  far  as  possible  to  that  in 
force  in  tlie  mother  country.  In  all  the  larger  colonies  there  are 
convict  prisons  and  local  prisons,  and  in  all  cellular  separation  for 
the  whole  or  part  of  the  sentence  is  the  rule.  This  is  the  ca.se  in 
the  Australi.in  colonies,  in  Tasmania,  and  in  New  Zealand. 

Tlie  prison  system  of  Canada  is  advanced  *nd  enlightened.  The 
numbers  incarcerated  are  not  great,  and  crime  is  not  very  prevalent. 
.Six  establishments  sutlice  for  the  Dominion — Kingston,  St  Vincent 
de  Paul  (for  the  province  of  Quebec),  Halifa.t,  Manitoba,  British 
Columbia,  and  Dorchester.  The  last-named  has  replaced  that  at 
St  John's.  All  these  arc  cellular  prisons ;  and  they  receive  prisoners 
of  all  categavies,  for  trial  and  after  sentence  whatever  the  term. 
Females  have  a  special  <iuarter  in  each  prison.  Isolation  is.  strictly 
carried  out  for  all  short  sentences  ;  Init  for  the  longer  labour  is  in 
association.  A  gieat  deal  of  good  work  is  turned  out  in  the  Canadi.au 
prisons.  All  the  rolling  stock  for  railways  in  Government  hands, 
iron-work,  clothing,  and  boots  and  shoes  are  produced  at  the  variouq 
prisons,  but  not  to  an  extent  to  allow  all  prisonera  to  be  instructed 
in  trades.  Jlost  of  the  prisons  possess  land  in  their  vicinity  which 
is  tilled  by  the  prisoners.  There  are  no  prisoners'  aid  societies  »j 
yet  in  Canada,  although  their  formation  has  been  earnestly  rccom- 
mcmled. 

For  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  there  is  a  good  prison  at  Cape  Town.' 
In  Ceyhui,  since  ISG7,  cellular  seimration  has  been  enforced  for  the 
whole  period  of  short  sentences,  and  the  first  six  nuniths  of  long 
sentences.  In  .Jamaica  there  are  .several  kinds  of  prisons,  but  only 
the  principal,  the  general  penitentiary,  has  any  number  of  separate 
sleeping  cells. 

In  India  the  jails  number  upwards  of  230,  with  an  indefinite 
number  of  small  lock-ups.  There  is  also  the  large  convict  depW  et 
Port  Blair  in  tlio  Aiulanian  Islands.     Very  few  of  the  Indian  jails 


758 


PRISON      DISCIPLINE 


are  entirely  cellular  ;  two  in  particular  may  be  mentioned,  that  of 
Utakamaud  and  that  of  Hazaribagli,  both  of  which  are  for  European 
convicts.  "The  remainder,"  says  Dr  Jlouatt,  formerly  inspector 
general  of  prisons  in  Bengal,  "are  built  on  every  conceivable  plan ; 
a  large  number  of  them  are  miserable  mud  structures,  which  are 
constantly  being  washed  away  by  heavy  rain,  and  as  constantly  pro- 
vide work  for  the  prisoners  in  repairing  them."  A  few  of  them  are 
radiating,  and  nearly  all  provide  for  the  separation  by  night  of  the 
male  and  female  prisoui-rs  ;  and  there  is  a  certain  rough  classifica- 
tion according  to  sentence.  All  work  is  in  association,  except  when 
prisoners  are  kept  in  cells  for  misconduct.  The  proportion  of  cell 
accommodation,  when  Dr  Jlouatt  wrote,  was  barely  10  per  cent. 
Work  is  mostly  intramural,  and  generally  remunerative  and  in- 
dustrial. Prisoners  are  occasionally  employed  out  of  doors  in  gangs 
upon  canals  and  other  public  works.  The  ironing  of  prisoners  where 
prisons  are  insecure  still  prevails  as  a  safeguard  against  escape. 
Prison  punishments  are  generally  severe,  and  include  flogging, 
fetters,  penal  labour,  and  complete  isolation.  The  whole  question 
of  prison  discipline  in  India  is  strictly  subordinated  to  financial 
considerations,  and  the  system  in  conseq^uence  lacks  uniformity  and 
completeness. 

Austria. — It  was  not  until  1867  that  the  Austrian  Government 
declared  in  favour  of  a  system  of  cellular  imprisonment.  Till  then 
all  prisoners  had  been  kept  'n  association,  but  at  the  date  above 
mentioned  a  recommendation  that  separation  should  be'  the  rule 
was  made  to  the  reichsrath  and  approved.  Owing  to  the  expense 
of  reconstructing  or  converting  prisons,  the  principle  could  not  be 
generally  adopted  ;  moreover,  the  Austrian  authorities  were  not  in 
favour  of  continuous  isolation.  Hence  the  practice  adopted  was  a 
combination  of  the  two  methods.  Short  imprisonments  might  be 
endured  entirely  in  separate  cells ;  every  prisoner  might  pass  the 
first  part  of  a  long  term  in  a  cell,  but  the  isolation  was  not  to  exceed 
eight  months,  the  remainder  of  the  sentence  to  be  undergone  in 
association  or  collectively,  duo  regard  being  had  to  the  classifica- 
tion of  the  prisoners  brought  together.  This  classification  is  based 
upon  the  individual's  age,  education,  state  of  mind,  and  former  life, 
and  the  nature  of  his  crime.  The  progress  made  in  the  erection 
of  cellular  prisons  has  not  been  very  rapid.  Although  the  total 
number  of  prisoners  in  Austria-Hungary  exceeds  17,000,  up  to  the 
end  of  1879  only  1050  cells  had  beeu  provided,  viz.,  at  Gratz  252, 
at  Stein  3J8,  at  Pilsen  387,  and  at  Karthaus  63,  while  two  small 
prisons  for  trial  prisoners  have  also  been  built  at  Cilli  and  Reichen- 
berg.  These  new  prisons  are,  however,  very  complete  and  perfect ; 
they  have  all  modern  appliances,  chapels,  hospitals,  workshops, 
and  baths  ;■  the  cells  are  spacious,  and  well  ventilated,  lighted,  and 
warmed.  Two  days  of  cellular  imprisonment,  after  three  months 
have  elapsed,  count  as  three  in  association.  There  is  no  distinctly 
penal  labour.  In  separation  prisoners  follow  such  trades  as  shoe- 
making,  tailoring,  weaving,  button-making,  wood-carving  ;  women 
are  employed  in  embroidery,  spinning,  quill-pen  making,  and 
knitting.  In  association  the  principal  employments  are  carpenter- 
ing, coopering,  smith's  work,  brick-making  ;  and  a  number  of  the 
more  trustworthy  prisoners  have  helped  to  construct  railways  and 
lay  down  roads.  As  a  rule  the  prisoners'  labour  is  let  out  to  con- 
tractors ;  this  plan  is  preferred  as  relieving  the  state  of  all  risks, 
while  officials  are  more  at  liberty  to  attend  to  the  pure  disciplinary 
treatment  of  the  prisoners.  As  a  rule  every  prisoner  who  enters 
ignorant  of  a  trade  is  taught  one  in  prison.  Prisoners  can  earn 
substantial  wages  ;  where  contractors  are  employed,  the  prisoners 
receive  half  what  is  paid  over,  after  all  costs  have  been  deducted. 
Half  of  the  earnings  may  be  spent  in  the  prison  canteen  in  the 
purchase  of  luxuries,  including  beer  and  tobacco,  or  in  the  support 
of  a  prisoner's  family,  or  in  the  purchase  of  clothing  to  be  worn 
on  discharge.  There  is  only  one  "  Liberated  Prisoner  Aid  Society," 
which  is  established  at  Vienna,  and  which  does  good  service  in 
supporting  prisoners  until  they  find  occupation,  and  providing  them 
with  money,  clothes,  and  tools.  Speaking  generally,  there  are  three 
classes  of  prisons  in  Austria- Hungary,  viz.,  for  minor  offences,  and 
for  prisoners  sentenced  to  terms  less  than  one  year  and  to  terms  of  one 
year  and  upwards  respectively.  The  treatment  of  the  incarcerated 
is  humane  :  their  diet  is  suflicient ;  they  have  good  beds  and  bed- 
ding ;  the  sick  are  cared  for  in  hospitals  ;  the  labour  of  the  able- 
bodied  is  not  excessive,  although  supposed  to  extend  over  ten  hours 
daily.  Religious  services  are  provided  for,  and  non-Roman-Catholic 
prisoners  may  be  seen  by  ministers  of  their  own  form  of  faith. 
Prison  administration  is  under  the  minister  of  justice,  who  dele- 
gates his  powers  to  an  inspector  general  of  prisons.  Commissions  of 
inspection  are  appointed  to  visit  all  the  cellular  prisons  monthly, 
and  there  are  also  local  boards  of  management  and  control. 

Belgium. — Prisoh  discipline  has  perhaps  received  as  close  atten- 
tion in  Belgium  as  anywhere  in  the  world.  In  1835,  when  the  great 
movement  towards  prison  reform  was  in  progress,  Belgium  first 
adopted  the  cellular  system  experimentally  by  constructing  thirty- 
two  cells  in  connexion  with  the  old  prison  at  Ghent.  After  a  trial 
of  nine  years  a  verdict  was  passed  in  favour  of  cellular  separa- 
tion and  it  was  authoritatively  adopted  in  1844.  Progress  was 
steady  if  not  rapid  ;  by  degrpes  man/  cellular  prisons  were  built ; 


and' up  to  the  present  date  (18S5)  twenty-four  are  in  existence.  A 
model  prison  for  600  on  the  same  plan  is  in  process  of  construction 
at  Brussels,  and  three  others,  smaller,  will  soon  be  finished.  Bel- 
gium has  unhesitatingly  accepted  the  rule  of  absolute  separation 
as  regards  all  prisoners,  whatever  the  duration  of  their  sentences. 
That  solitude  which  disastrous  results  in  England  have  strictly 
limited  to  either  nine  months,  or,  under  certain  modifications,  to  two 
years,  may  be  enforced  in  Belgian  prisons  for  at  least  ten  years. 
At  the  end  of  that  period  a  prisoner  may  claim  to  go  into  associa- 
tion, and  they  are  then  removed  to  Ghent,  where  they  work  and  eat 
in  company  but  have  separate  sleeping  cells.  Separation,  again,  ia 
not  insisted  upon  with  the  sickly,  or  those  whose  minds  appear 
weak  ;  while  all  upon  whom  cellular  imprisonment  has  failed  may 
also  in  due  course  be  removed  to  association.  But  for  the  rest  the 
separate  system  is  the  invariable  rule,  and  it  is  carried  out  with 
careful  and  unvarying  sternness.  The  prisoner  never  leaves  his 
cell  save  for  chapel  or  exercise  ;  at  the  former  he  is  in  a  separate  box 
or  compartment ;  the  latter  he  takes  alone  in  a  narrow  yard.  His 
life,  however,  is  not  one  of  absolute  solitude.  He  is  visited  fre- 
quently by  his  warders  and  schoolmasters  and  trade  instructors } 
chaplain,  governor,  and  doctor  also  break  the  monotony  of  his  life. 
According  to  the  Belgian  view  of  the  case,  he  "lives  in  association 
with  the  prison  staff,  not  with  his  fellow  criminals.  It  is  claimed 
for  this  system,  which  aims  primarily  at  the  reformation  of  indivi- 
■  duals,  that  no  evil  consequences  have  as  yet  been  seen  to  follow  from 
the  treatment.  Official  statistics  may  be  searched  in  vain  for  the 
record  of  cases  of  suicide  or  of  mental  alienation ;  neither  are 
abnormally  frequent.  On  the  other  hand  the  Belgian  authorities 
insist  that  the  dread  of  the  punishment  has  had  a  marked, effect 
upon  crime,  and  that  there  is  a  diminution  in  the  number  of  second 
sentences.  "Recidivists,"  or  reconvicted  prisoners,  are,  moreover, 
subjected  to  a  more  rigorous  discipline. 

There  are  three  classes  of  prisons  in  Belgium ; — the  maistmi 
cCarrlt,  or  prisons  of  detention,  for  accused  persons  undergoing 
examination  oi-  awaiting  trial ;  the  maiaons  de  sireli,  or  prisons 
for  the  infliction  of  short  sentences  ;  and  the  maison  centrales,  which 
correspond  to  the  English  convict  prisons.  Prisoners  awaiting 
trial,  and  still  innocent  in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  are  treated,  with 
much  leniency  and  consideration.  An  arrangement  peculiar  to 
the  French  aud  Belgian  prisons  is  the  privilege  of  the  "pistole." 
A  prisoner  on  payment  of  a  certain  charge  is  conceded  better 
accommodation  ;  he  has  a  room,  not  a  cell,  decently  furnished,  and 
may  provide  his  own  food,  have  books,  see  his  friends,  and  do  no 
work.  Offenders  of  the  better  class,  and  never  previously  convicted, 
are  sometimes  relegated  specially  to  the  pistole  by  the  tribunals  ;  and 
the  local  boards  of  visitors  have  also  power  to  transfer  prisoners  to 
this  privileged  class.  Independent  of  the  pistole  the  law  provides 
three  kinds  of  penalty — correctional  imprisonment,  seclusion,  and 
imprisonment  with  hard  labour.  But,  except  the  slight  differences 
as  regards  privileges  of  letters  and  visits,  the  treatment  is  identical 
in  all  three  categories.  It  is  correctional  for  all ;  all  prisoners  are 
kept  in  seclusion  ;  and  there  is  no  hard  labour,  as  we  understand 
it  Purely  penal  labour  does  not  exist  in  the  Belgian  prisons. 
Public  works  are  obviously  impossible  ;  and  there  are  no  tread- 
mills or  cranks.  The  labour  is  entirely  industrial;  but  its 
object  is  rather  to  reform  individuals  than  to  produce  profit  to  the 
state.  'With  strict  cellular  confinement  the  range  of  prison  indus- 
tries is  generally  limited  to  sedentary  employment ;  but,  besides 
weaving,  tailoring,  shoemaking,  book-binding,  and  so  forth,  various 
handicrafts  are  practised.  The  prisoner's  labour  is  partly  let  out 
to  contractors,  partly  utUized  by  the  authorities.  A  portion  of  the 
earnings  for  work  done  goes  to  the  prisoners ;  and  part  of  the 
money  may  be  spent  in  the  purchase  of  better  food  or  tobacco,  where 
it  is  permitted,  from  the  canteen.  No  pains  are  spared  to  instruct 
the  prisoners  ;  those  ignorant  of  any  trade  are  regularly  appren- 
ticed and  taught,  the  idea  being  to  provide  every  one  with  a  means 
of  livelihood  on  release.  The  severity,  not  to  say  cruelty,  of  the 
strict  rule  of  separation  is  mitigated  as  far  as  possible  by  the  pater- 
nal solicitude  of  the  authorities.  The  administrative  arrange- 
ments of  the  Belgian  prisons  are  nearly  perfect.  The  buildings  are 
spacious — the  halls  lofty,  light,  and  airy  ;  the  cells  are  of  ample 
dimensions,  carefully  ventilated,  well-lighted,  and  well- warmed.  An 
abundant  water  supply  assists  the  sanitary  services  ;  dietaries  are 
sufficient  and  well-chosen,  soup  with  plenty  of  vegetables  forming 
an  especial  feature  in  them.  School  instruction  is  available  for  all. 
There  are  well-supplied  libraries.  The  hospitals  4re  clean  and 
■spacious,  fitted  with  every  necessary,  and  the  percentage  of  patients 
under  treatment  is  usually  small.  An  epidemic  of  ophthalmia 
was,  however,  long  present  in  the  reformatory  prison  of  St  Hubert 
An  independent  system  of  visitation  is  supposed  to  protect  the 
prisoners  from  ill-usage  ;  local  boards  composed  of  local  functionaries 
exercise  constant  supervision  and  control  over  the  prisons  in  iheir 
vicinity.  The  central  administration  is  inteUigent ;  and  the  prison 
service  being  esteemed  highly  honourable  attracts  good  men  to 
recruit  its  ranks.  Female  prisons  are  exclusively  managed  by  the 
nuns  of  some  religious  order  in  the  locality.  Besides  the  prisons 
of  punishment  for  adults,  there  are  two  establishments  in  Belginm 


PRISON      DISCIPLINE 


759 


»vliii^U  djal  exclusively  with  juvenile  crime.  These  are  at  St 
Hubert  in  Euxcmburg,  ami  at  Jfamnr.  The  first,  dating  from  1840, 
is  an  agiicultural  colony  which  receives  all  youths  up  to  the  a^c  of 
fourteen  ;  the  labour  is  exclusively  in  the  fields.  Young  criminals 
belonging  to  the  towns  are  sent  to  Namnr,  where  the  work  is 
mechanical  but  more  sedentary.  A  good  education  both  moral  and 
practical  is  received  at  these  reformatories,  which  are  more  like 
schools  than  prisons.  There  are  also  philanthropic  schools  for  vag- 
roEts  and  non-criminal  childi'en.  At  present  no  societies  labour  to 
assist  prisoners  on  release.  A  complete  organization  once  e.^ted 
for  the  purpose,  but  it  was  wholly  official,  and  those  whom  it  was 
supposed  to  benefit  suspected  and  kept  aloof  from  it.  It  may  be 
added  that,  although  there  is  no  power  in  the  prisoners'  own.  hands 
of  working  out  remission  by  steady  industry  and  good  conduct,  sen- 
tences may  be  abbreviated  on  these  grounds  on  the  recommendation 
of  the  prison  authorities.  All  sentences,  too,  have  been  shortened 
since  the  general  introduction  of  cellular;  imprisonment ;  as  the 
treatment  was  more  severe,  justice  demanded  a  curtailment  of  the 
penalties.  Capital  punishment,  although  not  definitively  abolished, 
is  never  inflicted,  and  all  sentenced  to  death  pass  into  prison  for 
life.  But  after  ten  years  they  too  are  transferred  to  Ghent  for  the 
remainder  of  their  days. 

Brazil. — The  present  emperor  of  Brazil  has  long  taken  an  active 
interest  in  prison  reform.  He  has  encouraged  the  piison  adminis- 
tration of  his  country  to  introduce  a  scheme  which  is  in  many 
respects  the  same  as  that  in  force  in  England.  Prisoners,  after 
sentence,  are  subjected  to  a  period  of  close  cellular  confinement 
enduring  eight  mouths  ;  they  then  pass  to  another  prison,  where 
cellular  separation  is  still  enforced,  but  the  daily  labour  is  in  associa- 
tion and  in  silence.  This  is  styled  the  reformatory  stage  ;  after  that 
comes  the  thii'd  stage,  which  is  reached  by  marks  gained  through 
ijdustry  and  good  conduct.  In  this  last  stage,  called  the  testing 
stage,  prisoners  work  together  ;  they  may  converse,  may  wear  theii' 
own  clothes,  and  are  under  the  cai'e  and  supervision  of  the  most 
trustworthy  of  their  feUows.  They  sleep  in  large  dormitories,  not 
in  cells,  are  .allowed  to  cultivate  a  piece  of  garden  gi'ound  on  their 
own  account,  and  a  large  portion  of  their  earnings  ia  placed  to  their 
credit  and  handed  over  to  them  on  release. 

Dcnnmrk. — The  prison  system  in  force  in  Denmark  dates  from 
1840,  previous  to  wdiich  time  the  arrangements  were  e.xtiemely 
unsatisfactory.  In  the  early  part  of  the  century  Danish  prisons 
were  in  as  deplorable  condition  as  any  in  Europe  ;  after  enduring 
indescribable  horrors,  the  worst  malefactors  passed  on  to  hard 
labour  in  the  fortresses  or  in  the  fleets.  But  a  commission  was 
appointed  in  1840  to  report,  and  recommended  the  adoption  of  the 
cellular  system  for  all  prisoners  awaiting  trial,  and  under  short- 
term  sentences, — those  comleuined  to  long  imprisonments  tp  be 
put  to  hard  labour  in  association.  The  necessary  prisons  were  con- 
structed at  a  cost,  >vithin  a  quarter  of  a  centTir)',  of  t>vo  millions 
of  paunds.  There  are  a  large  number  of  small  detention  prisons, 
and  four  principal  prisons  for  the  convicted  ;  one  cellular  for  males 
at  Vridsloesville,  and  two  associated  at  Horseus  and  Viborg,  one 
for  females  courbined  cellular  and  associated  at  Christianshavn. 
About  7.5  per  cent,  of  the  whole  are  sentenced  to  separative  con- 
finement in  cells  ;  its  infliction  is  limited  to  first  ofTendors,  youths, 
or  those  sentenced  to  six  months  and  upwards  to  three  yeare  and  a 
half;  the  associated  or  aggregate  system  apjilics  to  the  reconvicted, 
and  for  terms  from  two  years  to  life.  There  is  no  distinctly  penal 
labour  in  the  prisons  ;  the  industrial  prevails,  and  is  in  the  hands 
of  contractors.  Prisoners  in  cells  are  constantly  visited  ;  religious 
and  secular  instruction  is  imparted  ;  the  dietaries  are  carefully  cal- 
culated, and  the  regime  generally  intelligent  and  humane. 

A  number  of  aid  societies  have  been  established  at  the  scat  of  the 
largo  prisons,  which  assist  piisoners  on  release  who  have  been  dili- 
gent and  weU  conducted  in  confinement.  .  Work  is  found,  tools 
and  subsistence  given,  as  in  England.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that 
the  first  aid  society  was  formed  at  Copenhagen  in  1841  through 
tho  exertions  of  Mi-s  Fry.  Besides  the  regular  prisons,  there  are 
three  reformatories  for  juvcuiles  modelled  on  the  French  school  at 
Mettray  ;  they  have  been  founded  by  private  benevolence,  but  re- 
ceive aid  from  the  state.  Agriculture  is  tho  principal  employment 
of  the  inmates. 

France. — Prisons  and  their  management  have  not  attracted  close 
or  continuous  attention  in  France.  Dynastic  changes,  wars,  rcvoln- 
tions,  and  intcstinr.l  troubles  may  be  pleaded  as  tho  excuse.  A 
system  based  on  the  principle  of  individual  separation  as  practised 
in  the  United  States  was  on  the  point  of  being  adopted  in  Franco 
when  tho  legislation  to  secure  it  was  interrupted  by  the  revolution 
of  1848.  Under  tho  empire  tho  question  was  generally  subordinated 
to  more  pressing  political  needs.  Cellular  imprisonment  was,  how. 
over,  adopted  partially,  but  only  to  alimited  extent,  for  jKirsons  await- 
ing trial.  Central  prisons  in  which  tho  prisoners  lived  and  wAkcd 
in  association  had  been  established  early  in  tho  century,  and  their 
use  was  extended.  They  received  all  sentenced  to  the  shorter  terms. 
The  long-term  convicts  went  to  tho  bagncs,  the  great  convict  prisons 
at  the  arsenals  of  Rochcfort,  Brest,  and  Toulon  ;  and  in  1861,  a 
few  years  after  it  had  been  abandoned  by  England,  transportation 


to  p«nal  colonies  was  adopted  by  Fiance.    In  1869  Kapdlcon  TTT. 

ap;>oin;ed  a  commission  to  uiquire  and  report  upon  the  whole 
question,  but  its  lalronrs  were  rudely  intemipted  by  til.-  Fitinco. 
Gei-mau  War.  Three  years  later  a  fresh  commission,  appointed  by 
the  national  assembly  to  discuss  parliamentary  reform,  made  a 
most  exhaustive  report  in  1874.  It  imhesitntingly  recommended 
cellular  confinemeut,  and  the  principle  became  law  tho  folio\ring 
yeai%  This  system  m  pi-ison  discipline  then  became  applicable  to 
all  persons  awaiting  tnal,  to  those  seniaced  to  any  term  up  to  a 
year  and  a  day,  and  to  tliose  for  longer  terms  provided  they  asked  to 
bo  kept  separate  aud  apart.  It  was  calculated  by  the  commission 
fij-st  mentioned  that  there  were  nearly  eight  thousand  cells  ah-endv 
in  existence  and  available,  but  an  additional  twenty-one  thousand 
would  have  to  bo  constructed  at  an  outlay  o{  sixty-three  millions  a) 
francs  in  order  to  meet  the  demands  of  this  new  system.  A  motle) 
cell  was  desired  and  plans  for  model  prisons,  but  the  expense  tht 
change  would  entail  appears  to  have  deteiTed  Fi-ench  authorities, 
both  tho  central  execurive  aud  the  cmiscils  giniraux,  froni 
promptly  making  it.  There  are  not  more  than  ten  or  a  dozei 
ceUular  piisons  iu  France,  and  two  of  them  are  in  Paris — llazai 
(for  hial  prisonei's)  and  La  Sante,  but  the  latter  is  not  entirelj 
cellular.  Tho  construction  of  others  has  been  Contemplated,  bu< 
ill  few  cases  proceeded  with,  and  many  years  will  probably  elapst 
before  any  unifonnity  in  penal  treatment  is  established  in  France. 
Prison  administration  is  complex  in  France,  and  there  are  many 
kinds  of  prisons, — a  few  of  them  being  under  the  authority  of  the 
minister  of  the  interior  : — (1 )  the  maison  d'a.rrH,  temporary  places  ol 
dui-anco  in  every  arrondissemeut  for  persons  charged  with  oH"euce3, 
aud  those  sentenced  to  more  than  a  year's  impnsoiiment  who  are 
awaiting  ti-ansfer  to  a  maison  ccntrah;  (2)  the  viaiscn  dc  justice; 
often  part  and  jjarcel  of  the  former,  but  only  existing  iu  the  assize 
court  towns  for  the  safe  custody  of  those  tiicd  or  condemned  at  the 
assizes  ;  (3)  tho  depot  situated  on  the  island  of  Ui,  for  all  sentenced 
to  travanx  fords  awaiting  deportation  to  Isew  Caledonia  (Arabs 
so  sentenced  wait  at  Avignon  their  removal  to  French  Guiana) ; 
(4)  departmental  prisons  or  houses  of  correction,  for  summary  con- 
victions, or  those  sentenced  to  less  than  a  year,  or,  if  provided  with 
sufficient  cells,  those  amenable  to  scpaiaie  confinement ;  (5)  the 
maisons-caitraUs,  or  central  prisons,  for  all  sentenced  to  more  than 
a  year,  or  for  men  and  women  above  sixty  sentenced  to  iravaux 
forcis;  (6)  maisons  de  force,  for  women  sentenced  to  Iravaxux  farces, 
or  both  sejtes  condemned  io  seclusion;  (7)  prisons  for  those  sen- 
tenced to  simple  detention  ;  (8)  penal  settlements  iu  Corsica, 
more  particularly  at  Chiavari,  Casablanca,  and  Castellucio,  the 
ri/gime  of  which  is  tho  same  as  in  the  maisons  centrales  ;  (9) 
retonnatory  estabLishmcnts  for  juvenile  ofl'enders  ;  and  (10)  dmdUi 
dc  sdreU,  for  prisoners  yho  are  travelling,  at  places  where  there 
are  no  other  prisons.  The  total  number  of  prisons  of  all  classes  in 
France,  cxclnsive  of  the  last,  exceeds  500,  aud  tlio  prison  population 
averages  50,000  daily.  Besides  tho  foregoing  there  are  a  certain 
number  of  niilitary  prisons  under  the  war  minister  seated  at  the  gi-eat 
garrison  towns,  br  in  Algeria ;  and  at  all  the  seaports  there  are 
maritime  piisons  for  soldiei's  or  sai'ors  who  have  broken  laws  civil 
or  military.  The  latter  are  under  the  minister  of  marine,  who  also 
has  special  charge  of  the  penal  scttiements  at  a  distance  from  Fi-ance, 
including  French  Guiana  and  New  Caledonia,  where  there  ai'c  several 
prisons  aud  hulks  adapted  for  tho  confinemeut  of  convicts.  Tlie  dis- 
cipliuai7  treahnent  of  all  prisoners  in  separate  confinemetit  is  much 
tho  same  in  Franco  as  elsewhere ;  tho  isolation  while  it  lasts  is  com- 
plete and  is  broken  only  by  the  frequent  visits  of  officials.  The  exer- 
cise is  solitary,  and  at  chapel  tho  same  rule  obtains  by  e.ach  prisoner 
occupying  a  separate  box,  or  by  having  service  iu  the  centi-o  ol 
tho  prison,  to  which  all  tho  cell  doors,  slightly  opened,  converge. 
It  may  bo  stated  here  that  religious  tolerance  prevails  everywhere; 
and  prisoners  not  Roman  Catholics  may  receive  tho  ministration 
of  clerg-ymen  of  their  own  creed.  Female  prisons  are  mostly 
managed  by  ninis  or  members  of  the  female  religious  orders.  There 
is  one  at  Doullens  especially  kept  for  Protest.aut  female  luisoiiers, 
and  managed  by  a  Piotestant  sisterhood.  Tlio  evils  of  a.s.sociatioD 
in  tho  congregate  prisons  aro  diminished  by  cln.ssifiaition,  so  far  ns  i1 
goes.  But  prisoners  aro  at  least  kept  in  categories:  trial  prisonera 
ale  together  ;  those  for  a  year  arc  kept  apart  from  the  summary 
convictions,  and  convicts  en  route  for  tlio  island  of  IU'  from  all  tho 
rest,  tl.ales  and  females  occupy  dilTerent  prisons.  As  almost  all 
prisons  have  at  least  a  few  separate  cells,  tlicse  aro  utilized  either  for 
the  recidivi.st^  and  those  of  worst  cbaractor,  or  for  any  widl-disjio.seil 
prisoners  who  exliibit  a  real  desire  to  amend.  The  diet,  althougji 
coarse,  is  liberal.  It  may  bo  supplemented  by  purchase  maile  fi-om 
the  canteen,  ot  which  both  wine  and  tobacco  may  bo  obtained  by 
all  who  can  jiay  for  it.  Each  person  may  thus  spend  a  certain 
iiroportion  of  his  earnings  or  ])iculc,  the  rest  being  .resen'cd  for 
his  discharge.  What  remains  of  the  product  of  the  prisoner's 
laboiu'  is  handed  over  to  the  contractor,  who  also  receives  a  grant 
per  prisoner  from  tho  state.  Labour  is  only  obligatory  upon  those 
so  sentenced ;  it  is  purely  industrial ;  |x:nal  labour,  such  as 
treadmill  or  crank,  docs  not  exist  in  French  prisons.  In  tho 
smaller  it  is  not  ea.sy  to  find  occupation  for  tlio  inmates,  but  iu  tLi) 


760 


PRISON     DISCIPLINE 


larger  many  and  various  industries  are  carried  on.  Among  the 
more  ordinary  trades  tlic  manufacture  of  "articles  de  Paris,"  toys, 
neat  bonbon  boxes,  hosiery,  and  cabinet-making  produce  good  finan- 
cial returns.  The  labour  of  the  prisoners  in  Corsican  settlements 
has  been  usefully  directed  upon  the  reclamation  of  marshy  lands, 
the  clearing  of  forests,  and  the  tilling  of  the  less  fertile  districts. 
The  agricultural  results  have  been  good  as  regards  the  cultivation 
of  the  orange,  oli\-e,  and  vine ;  mulberry  trees  have  been  planted  for 
the  silk-worm,  and  the  wheat  fields  have  returned  rich  harvests 
of  grain,  much  esteemed  in  Italy  and  the  south  of  France.  Cood 
r&ds  and  many  canals  have  been  made,  to  open  up  the  interior. 
These  Cor.sicau  prisons  have  long  sufi'ered  from  the  unhealthiness  of 
their  neighbourhood,  but  the  draining  of  the  marshes,  the  develop- 
ment of  irrigation,  and  the  .plantation  of  trees  have  all  combined 
to  improve  their  sanitary  conditions. 

The  efforts  made  in  France,  more  particularly  by  private  bene- 
volence,  to  cope  w'itli  juvenile  delinquency  have  been  very  praise- 
worthy. French  reformatories  are  of  two  classes — those  that  are 
punitive  or  correctional,  and  those  that  are  simply  reformatory. 
To  the  first,  where  the  discipline  is  severe,  are  sent  all  youths  con- 
victed of  offences  committed  with  full  knowledge  of  their  crimi- 
nality, and  these  relegated  from  the  reformatories  as  insubordinate  ; 
to  the  second,  children  proved  guilty  but  not  responsible  for  their 
acts,  or  the  ill-conducted  whose  parents  cannot  manage  them.  The 
first-named  are  public  institutions  maintained  by  the  state  ;  the 
latter  are  private,  and  may  be  supported  entirely  by  subscriptions. 
There  are  in  all  thirty-eight  of  the  former,  as  well  as  five  yenal 
colonies,  and  five  juvenile  quarters  attached  to  various  departmental 
prisons  ;  of  the  latter  there  are  twenty-eight.  All  these  are  for 
males.  For  females  there  are  twenty-three  private  establishments 
ond  one  public.  The  most  important  of  the  public  reformatories 
f\)r  boys  is  that  of  La  Petite  Roquette  in  Paris,  immediately 
opposite  the  convict  prison  of  the  same  name,  in  front  of  which 
e.vecutions  are  carried  out.  Of  the  private  institutions  that  of 
Mcttray  near  Tours,  started  by  the  benevolent  enterprise  of  M.  de 
Jletz,  has  a  world-wide  reputation.  A  very  successful  female  re- 
fortnatory  is  that  of  Darnetal  near  Rouen,  where  the  women  are 
employed  in  farming  and  field  operations. 

As  regards  the  most  heinous  offenders,  France  not  only  clings 
to  deportation,  but  is  disposed  to  enlarge  and  multiply  her  penal 
settlements.  In  1884  the  Government  bad  under  consideration 
the  necessity  for  sending  out  all  "recidivists"  to  the  Polynesian 
islands.  This,  however,  has  been  hindered  for  the  moment  by 
the  energetic  protest  of  the  Australian  colonies,  and,  instead  of 
the  number  sent  to  New  Caledonia  being  increased,  French  Guiana 
will  probably  be  more  largely  utilized.  In  the  former  islands 
most  of  the  evils  which  attended  the  early  days  of  transportation 
to  Australia  have  been  apparent.  The  French  convicts  either 
remain  in  the  hands  of  the  Government  incarcerated  in  badly 
consb-ucted  prisons,  where  discipline  and  supervision  are  unsatis- 
factory or  incomplete,  or  they  pass  into  a  state  of  semi-freedom  to 
work  for  free  settlers  on  their  owfl  account.  There  are  not  enough 
of  the  latter  to  afford  much  employment,  and  the  conditions  of 
the  soil  of  New  Caledonia  are  not  such  as  to  encourage  the 
convicts  to  work  for  themselves.  It  is  extremely  improbable 
that  the  penal  settlement  will  ever  grow  into  a  prosperous  self- 
supporting  colony,  and  thus  the  chief  end  of  deportation  remains 
unachieved.  At  present  the  French  penal  settlements  beyond  sea 
are  merely  badly-built  indifferently-managed  prisons  at  a  long  dis- 
tance from  home. 

Germany. — There  is  a  similarity  in  the  prison  discipline  of  the 
various  units  of  the  German  empire.  In  the  grand-duchy  of 
Baden  there  are  four  kinds  of  prisons — district  prisons,  fortresses, 
houses  of  correction,  and  central  prisons.  The  punishment  in  the 
two  first  named  is  simply  detention  or  privation  of  liberty, — the 
district  prisons  being  for  persons  under  examination  and  waiting 
trial,  or  those  sentenced  to  less  than  six  weeks'  imprisonment. 
Sentences  above  that  time  are  endured  in  the  central  prisons. 
The  principle  of  cellular  imprisonment  is  the  general  rule,  but  it 
is  uot  extended,  unless  at  a  prisoner's  wish,  beyond  three  years. 
For  youths  between  twelve  and  eighteen  the  limit  is  six  months. 
Prisoners  unfit  for  solitary  confinement  and  those  who  have  en- 
dured three  years'  detention  are  kept  together,  but  they  are  not 
associated  during  working  hours.  Both  systems  are  supposed  to  be 
attended  with  good  results  in  Baden.  Both  have  their  merits,  but 
popular  feeling  inclines  most  to  the  cellular  plan  as  conducing  to 
reform  while  it  keeps  the  prisoners  from  mutual  contamination. 
The  chief  cellular  prison  is  at  Bruchsal,  where  there  is  accommoda- 
tion for  five  hundred,  but  there  are  a  certain  number  of  separate 
cells  attached  to  many  other  prisons.  The  labour  in  the  prisons  is 
industrial  as  opposed  to  penal ;  contractors  are  not  encouraged ;  and 
in  most  prisons  the  administration  itself  keeps  the  employment  of 
the  prison  in  its  own  hands.  Forty  per  cent,  of  the  prisoners  on 
admission  are  ignorant  of  any  trade,  but  they  do  not  leave  prison 
Ivithout  learning  one.  Prisoners'  aid  societies  exist  in  twenty-nine 
But  of  fifty-nine  districts,  and  they  achieve  good  results,  although 
their  aid  is  not  too  frequently  invoked. 


The  bulk  of  the  prisons  in  £aiai'ia,  mostly  converted  castles  auJ 
convents,  are  on  the  collective  system,  but  there  are  feur  cellular 
prisons — one  at  Nuremberg,  and  three  other  district  prisons  for 
those  awaiting  trial.  The  prisons  are  much  the  same  as  in  Baden. 
There  are  police  prisons  for  first  arrests ;  district  prisons  mentioned 
above,  which  also  take  short  sentences  ;  prisons  for  three  months' 
sentences  and  upwards,  and  for  juveniles ;  and  houses  of  collection. 
There  are  also  special  prisons  set  apart  for  persons  convicted  of 
theft,  fraud,  robbery,  receiving,  whose  sentences  exceed  three 
months  ;  and  a  system  of  classification  exists  which  separates  ail 
likely  by  their  previous  character  to  exercise  a  baneful  influence  on 
their  fellows.  For  the  long-term  prisoners  the  labour  may  be  upon 
public  works  beyond  the  walls  of  the  jail,  and  prisoners  may  de- 
mand to  be  so  employed,  or  in  work  for  which  they  are  fit.  Industry 
and  good  conduct  will  secure  a  remission  of  sentence.  After  three 
months  of  the  sentence  have  been  served  there  is  no  purely  penal 
labour.  Industrial  labour  is  conducted  by  the  prison  authorities, 
who  are  not  in  favour  of  the  employment  of  contractors,  which  is 
thought  to  jeopardize  discipline.  Secular  education  is  not  over- 
looked ;  there  are  hospitals,  chapels,  libraries,  and  the  administra- 
tion generally  is  humane.  There  are  numerous  societies  to  assist 
discharged  prisoners,  which,  however,  are  said  to  be  much  hampered 
in  action  by  the  ignorance  and  prejudice  of  the  public.  One  at 
Munich  has  nevertheless  done  great  good. 

There  are  but  few  prisons  in  Frussia  in  which  isolation  is  exclu- 
sively carried  out.  But  in  forty-six  cellular  and  associated  im- 
prisonment exist  side  by  side  ;  the  total  number  of  cells  is,  however, 
small  when  compared  with  the  total  population  in  prison.  The 
advantage  of  introducing  the  system  of  "progressive  stages,"  of 
passing  from  strict  separation  to  labour  in  association,  is  anxiously 
discussed,  but  nothing  yet  has  been  done.  Prussian  prisons  may  be 
classed  as — (1)  those  exclusively  for  hard  labour,  (2)  those  for  im- 
prisonment and  simple  detention,  and  (3)  those  of  a  mixed  character. 
Hard-labour  sentences  may  be  for  any  term  from  one  year  to  life ; 
the  labour  is  compulsory,  without  restriction,  both  inside  and  be- 
youd  the  walls.  'I'he  maximum  of  simple  imprisonment  or  deten- 
tion is  for  fi\'e  years,  during  which  time  a  prisoner  is  uot  compelled 
to  work  except  in  accordance  with  his  capacity  and  the  position  he 
occupied  in  social  life  ;  nor  need  he  work  outside  the  prison  against 
his  wilh  Imprisonment  in  a  fortress,  which  may  be  for  life  and  the 
minimum  of  which  is  for  one  day,  means  simple  deprivation  of 
liberty.  There  is  also  a  detention  on  summary  conviction  for  vag- 
rants and  beggars  limited  to  six  weeks.  These  may  be  made  to  work 
inside  or  outside  the  prison.  There  is  no  penal  labour ;  but  much 
variety  and  enterprise  exist  as  regards  the  prison  industrial  employ- 
ments, which,  in  addition  to  the  ordinary  kinds,  include  feather- 
scraping,  leather-dressing,  turning,  carving,  illuminating,  kc. 
The  males  also  farm ;  the  women  make  gloves,  cigars,  and  tapestry, 
embroider,  knit,  weave,  and  spin.  The  work  is  carried  on  through 
contractors,  who  pay  a  certain  sum  on  the  amount  produced.  A 
portion  of  their  earnings  goes  to  the  prisoners, — half  of  it  to  be 
expended  in  buying  extra  food,  half  accumulated  against  release. 
To  reduce  evils  of  association  it  is  ordered  that  first  sentences 
shall  be  separated  from  hardened  offenders,  but  this  classification 
is  not  always  possible  ;  juvenile  prisoners  are,  however,  kept  apart 
in  cells.  Release,  provisionally,  may  take  place  after  three-fourths 
of  the  sentence  has  been  endured  with  good  conduct,  but  the 
licence  to  be  abroad  may  be  revoked  for  a  breach  of  law.  Tlicre 
are  many  prisoners'  aid  societies,  the  best  being  in  Rhenish  Pru.ssia 
and  Westphalia,  but  the  results  obtained  have  uot  been  very  satis- 
factory. Employers  and  free  workmen  will  not  receive  liberated 
prisoners  freely,  and  the  aid  societies  would  effect  more  if  they 
were  more  centralized  and  worked  more  together.  Prussian  prisons 
are  on  the  whole  well  organized  ;  the  discipiine  is  severe  yet  just ; 
order  reigns  everywhere  ;  secular  instruction  and  religious  minis- 
trations are  ample,  and  the  employment  of  prisoners  according  to 
their  capacities  is  carefully  attended  to.  But  many  of  the  prisons 
requh-e  rebuilding  or  recoustruction  ;  isolation  at  night  should  be 
the  universal  rule  ;  and  more  cells  are  needed  to  ensure  the  separa- 
tion of  th«  trial  prisoners  and  short  sentences.  Administrative 
centralization  is  much  needed  in  Prussia. 

Prison  discipline  has  attracted  close  attention  in  the  kingdom 
of  Saxony  since  1850,  when  the  penitentiary  at  Zwickau  was  first 
opened  and  conducted  with  satisfactory  results.  In  1854  it  was 
decreed  that  all  Saxon  prisons  should  follow  the  same  system, 
which  is  that  of  treatment  either  solitary  or  associated  according 
to  individual  wants  ;  neither  rule  obtains  exclusively,  and  the 
prisons  have  facilities  for  both.  AVork,  education,  and  diet  arc 
supposed  to  be  carefully  allotted  to  prisoners.  The  prisons  follow 
the  usual  classification  of  German  prisons  ;  there  are  those  for 
severe  punishment,  two  in  number,  three  for  less  severe  punish- 
ment, and  two  for  the  older  offenders.  Besides  these  there  are  the 
fortresses  and  the  prisons  of  detention.  The  labour  is  purely 
industrial,  not  penal  ;  Saxony  is  a  very  industrial  country,  and  its 
prisons  produce  nearly  every  article  of  manufacture.  Work  !■> 
carried  out  in  thein  partly  by  contractors  and  partly  by  tlic 
authorities.     In  the  five  reformatories  agriculture  is  ths  jirincipal 


PKISON      DISCIPLINE 


701 


oecu[«tion.  A  giaituatcJ  system  of  remissiou  of  scutenccs  is  in 
force,  dcpenJent  on  industry  and  conduct. 

In  Wurtnnbcrij  the  cellular  system  was  adopted  for  women  in 
1865,  and  a  prison  on  that  plan  erected  at  Heilbronn,  wliich  has 
einee  been  utilized  exclusively  for  men.  The  bulk  of  the  Wiirtcm- 
berg  prisons  are,  however,  still  on  the  collective  system  ;  but  at 
sU  i)risous  there  are  places  for  the  isolated  detention  of  a  certain 
number  of  prisoners.  The  classilication  of  luisous  is  much  the 
same  as  iir  other  parts  of  the  Germnn  empire  under  the  penal 
code  of  the  empire-  There  is  no  distinction  between  penal  and 
industrial  labour  ;  the  latter  is  of  the  varied  character  followed  in 
other  German  prisons,  and  is  partly  in  the  hands  of  contractors, 
partly  in  that  of  the  administration.  An  aid  society  has  existed 
in  Wiirtemberg  since  1831,  and  it  has  numerous  ramifications 
throutth  the  country.  It  does  good  service  in  obtaining  work, 
providing  tools,  and  assisting  emigration. 

Italy. — There  is  a  want  of  uniformity  in  the  prison  system  of 
the  Italian  kingdom,  which  is  not  strange,  having  regard  to  the 
recent  unification  of  the  country.  I'he  various  units  whicli  were 
till  recently  independent  of  each  other  had  each  its  own  views. 
.Many  varieties  of  prison  discipline,  therefore,  still  remain  in 
force.  There  are  some  prisons  in  which  complete  isolation  is  the 
rule,  others  where  the  labour  is  associated  with  cellular  separa- 
tion at  night.  But  the  largest  number  are  on  the  collective 
system.  All  new  prisons  of  detention  are  built  on  the  principle 
of  isolation,  and  this  rule  is  as  far  as  possible  strictly  observed 
for  all  prisoners  awaiting  triah  This  period  of  detention  may  be 
spent  in  a  provincial  (carccre  ccnlrale),  district  {circondnralc),  or 
communal  {mandamcntale)  jail.  Sentences  are  carried  out  accord- 
ing to  their  character  in  different  prisons.  There  are  prisons  for 
those  condemned  to  simple  confinement  and  detention-;  others  for 
"relegates";  others  again  for  reclusion  accompanied  with  hard 
labour ;  and  twenty  are  bagnios  or  hard-labour  prisons  for  those 
sentenced  for  long  periods  (up  to  life),  to  undergo  the  punish- 
ment of  the  crgaslolo  or  galera.  The  discipline  is  progressive.  In 
the  ordinary  prisons,  a  gradual  amelioration  of  condition  may  be 
secured  by  good  conduct ;  in  the  bagnios,  besides  the  exemption 
from  fetters,  convicts  may  gain  the  privilege  of  completing  the  last 
half  of  their  sentences  in  one  or  other  of  the  agricultural  colonies. 
These  have  been  established  in  various  islands  of  the  Tuscan 
archipelago,  as  at  Pianosa  and  Gorgona ;  and  an  intermediate  prison 
has  been  established  on  the  inland  of  Capraia  for  well-conducted 

firisoners  in  a  last  stage  of  semi-liberty.  Associated  convict  labour 
las  produced  good  results  in  Italy.  By  it  all  necessary  prison 
buildings  have  been  erected  at  the  penal  colonies  and  at  various 
points  on  the  mainland  ;  it  has  also  been  applied  to  agriculture, 
tlie  reclamation  of  land,  the  construction  of  storehouses,  docks,  salt 
works,  and  on  the  improvement  of  various  ports.  In  the  prisons  or 
penitentiaries  the  labour  is  industrial,  and  follows  the  usual  lines. 
Contractors  have  generally  the  control  of  this  labour,  receiving  the 
results  after  deductions  for  prisoners'  eaimings  to  be  spent  in  the 
usual  way  and  with  the  obligation  to  teach  trades.  On  the  latter 
condition  contractors  are  granted  the  exclusive  right  to  the  labour 
of  juveniles  in  houses  of  correction  ;  and  there  are  a  number  of 
reformatory  schools,  mostly  on  a  charitable  basis,  into  which  are 
drafted  all  juveniles,  vagrants,  and  idlers  sentenced  to  compulsory 
detention.  ■ 

Mexico. — In  Mexico  the  rule  of  constant  separation  for  all  ))ris- 
oners  has  been  accepted,  but  not  yet  caniod  out  entirely.  The 
old  prisons  were  on  the  associated  system  ;  but  new  cellular 
prisons  have  recently  been  built,  or  arc  in  process 'of  construction 
at  Jalisco,  Durango,  Puebia,  and  Mexico.  These  will  receive  trial 
prisoners  and  those  sentenced.  There  is  an  "  hospicio  do  pobres" 
for  young  children  ;  also  a  special  reformatory  establishment  for 
children  between  nine  and  eigliteen.  Political  oli'enders  are  kept 
apart  from  ordinary  ofTcnders.  All  convicted  prisoners  may 
earn  conditional  release  on  completion  of  half  their  whole  sen- 
tence. This  form  of  release  is  called  preparatory  liberty,  and  for  a 
short  time  preceding  it  they  are  allowed  to  leave  the  jails  to  run 
errands  or  seek  work.  The  labour  in  Mexican  prisons  is  indus- 
trial, not  penal,  and  in  theory  at  least  the  advantages  of  learning  a 
trade  in  prison  are  fully  understood.  Contracts  for  prison  labour 
are  forbidden.  A  portion  of  the  proceeds  goes  to  the  prisoners,  and 
may  bo  spent  in  purchasing  food  or  furniture  or  articles  of  comfort. 
There  are  "  protective  boards  "  who  visit  and  seek  to  improve  the 
prisoners,  \aud  independent  philanthropists  ore  also  admitted. 
Prisoners  on  release  go  to  the  protective  boards,  who  as-sist  in 
obtaining  them  an  honest  livelihood. 

The  Kclhcrlandi. — Here  the  treatment  a  condemned  prisoner 
undergoes  depends  mainly  upon  the  sentence  awarded.  The  judge 
at  his  discretion  may  direct  the  imprisonment  to  be  on  the  solitary 
or  the  associated  system.  This  power  as  regards  the  first  is, 
however,  limited  to  half  the  whole  term  of  sentence,  and  in  1851  it 
could  only  be  applied  to  sentences  of  one  year  ;  this  was  extended 
in  1801  to  two  year.'i,  and  in  1871  to  four  years, — so  that  now  the 
maximum  of  cellular  imprisonment  to  be  infiicted  is  actually 
limited  to  two  yonrs.     There  are  several  prisons  on  the   cellular 


jilan  ;  but  in  most  tlio  two  kinds  of  imprisonment  exist  side  by  side. 
There  are  four  classes  of  prisons  : — (1 )  the  central  prisons  for  pcreons 
sentenced  to  eighteen  months  and  upwards  ;  (2)  detention  prisons 
for  less  than  eighteen  months  ;  (3)  prisons  of  arrest  for  those  sen- 
tenced to  three  months  or  less  ;  and  (4)  police  or  central  prisons 
for  those  comlemned  to  one  month  an  !  under.  In  the  three  last 
named  are  also  kept  prisoners  awaiting  tiial.  As  regards  classitica, 
tion  nothing  more  is  attempted  where  associ.ation  is  the  nile  than  tho 
se|iaration  of  the  most  hardened  and  previously  convicted  olfendei's 
from  other  prisoners.  Imprisonment  is  either  simple  detention  oi 
accompanied  by  hard  labour.  The  latter  is  industrial  only,  never 
penal,  and  embraces  a  great  variety  of  handicrafts,  most  of  which 
are  carried  out  under  contiactors.  But  work  is  also  done  on 
account  of  the  state,  with  the  advantage  that  it  is  not  subject  to 
tho  iluctuations  of  supply  and  demand.  All  prisoners,  except 
those  for  short  terms,  are,  if  jicssible,  taught  a  trade.  The  earnings 
go  in  part  to  the  prisoners,  to  be  expended  by  them  in  the  usuul 
way.  Remissions  of  sentence  not  exceeding  six  mouths  niay  be 
accorded  to  all  originally  condemned  to  not  less  than  three  years, 
and  who  have  undergone  at  least  half.  There  is  a  society  for  tho 
moral  amelioration  of  prisoners  in  tho  Netherlands,  which  lias 
numerous  ramiiicationJ!,  and  is  devoted  to  prison  visiting  and  the 
welfare  of  prisoners  generally.  This  extends  to  eftbrts  to  obtain 
employment  for  them  on  release,  which  are  praiseworthy,  and  on 
the  whole  eminently  successful. 

A'brimi/.— Prisons  in  Norway  may  be  divided  into  two  princi- 
pal classes,  the  Slrafarbcidesanstaltcr,  or  penal  institutions  where 
prisoners  are  compelled  to  labour,  and  the  district  prisons  estab- 
lished in  1857  for  detention  and  simple  imprisonment.  (1)  Tho 
first  may  be  further  subdivided  into  fortress  prisons,  houses  oi 
correction,  and  the  cellular  prison  or  penitentiary  of  Christiania. 
This  last  takes  the  first  convicted  for  short  terms  between  the  ages 
of  eighteen  and  thirty,  the  fortresses  the  longer  sentences,  and  tlio 
houses  of  correction  the  intermediate  terms.  All  these  prisons 
except  that  of  Christiania, are  on  the  associated  system,  with  no 
attempt  at  classification  beyond  the  separation  of  tho  worst 
from  the  least  corrupt  in  workshops  or  dormitories.  The  hours 
of  labour  are  long — fourteen  in  summer  and  ten  in  winter.  Tlie 
labour,  conducted  solely  by  the  authorities,  is  industrial ;  at 
Christiania  cloth  manufacture  is  a  principal  trade,  at  Akershuus  it 
is  stonecutting.  Most  prisoners  learn  a  trade  if  they  are  ignorant 
of  one  on  reception.  No  portion  of  the  proceeds  of  their  labour 
goes  to  the  prisoners.  There  is  no  regular  system  of  granting  remis- 
sions. All  the  penal  institutions  have  cha^dains,  schools,  libraries, 
and  hospitals.  Keleased  prisoners  arCj  as  lar  as  possible,  preserved 
from  relapse  by  the  care  taken  to  provide  them  with  work  when  free. 
There  are  a  few  aid  societies,  but  their  operations  are  somewhat 
circumscribed  from  want  of  means.  (2)  The  district  prisons, 
fifty-six  in  number,  take  summaiy  convictions  from  four  to  two 
hundred  and  forty  d.ays.  Imprisonment  may  be  endured  on  bread 
and  water  with  regulated  intervals,  or  on  the  jail  allowance. 
Prisoners  in  these  prisons  are  not  compelled  to  work,  but  they 
can  have  employment  if  they  wish  it.  These  district  jails  are  also 
used  for  tho  detention  of  all  persons  apprehended  and  awaiting 
trial,  and  as  debtors'  prisons.  They  are  mostly  on  the  cellular  plan, 
especially  in  the  cases  of  those  sentenced  to  .solitary  confine- 
ment on  bread  and  water  and  those  committed  for  trial. 

Porlugnl  is  still  behindhand  as  regards  its  prison  administm- 
tion.  The  jails  are  extremely  defective  in  construction  ;  the  disci- 
pline is  lax  and  the  management  careUss.  All  prisons  are  on  the 
associated  plan  ;  they  stand  mostly  in  the  inarKet  places  of  tho 
large  towns,  with  the  first-floor  windows  upon  the  public  thorough- 
fares, so  that  tlie  inmates  are  at  liberty  to  talk  and  communicate 
with  the  passers  by,  whom  they  importune  constantly  for  alms. 
Little  less  lamentable  than  the  neglect  of  prison  discipline  is  tho 
practice  of  indefinitely  postponing  jail  deliveries,  with  the  inevit- 
able consequence  of  frequent  failures  of  justice.  Juries  often  will 
not  convict,  alleging  that  the  accused  have  been  suUicicntly  pun- 
ished by  long  detention  awaiting  trial. 

Ititssia, — Prison  discipline  was  much  discussed  in  Russia  os  far 
back  as  tho  commencement  of  the  present  century,  and  in  the  year 
1819  a  society,  now  known  as  tho  Imperial  Society,  was  established 
to  watch  over  the  administration  of  prisons,  'rhis  society  still 
exists,  and  is  afiiliatcd  to  tho  ministry  of  tho  interior.  Its  central 
committee  and  the  provincial  committees  working  under  it  select 
tho  ataiT  of  tho  prisons,  and  exercise  a  general  surveillance  over 
them.  Various  classes  of  prisons  have  existed  in  Kuropean  Russia. 
As  at  present  oigiinizcd  they  consist  of — (1)  tho  fortresses,  for 
grave  ollenders,  especially  tho  political  and  revolutionary, — in  these 
tho  discipline  is  very  severe  ;  (2)  the  military  prisons,  in  which 
tho  discipline  is  not  less  strict ;  (3)  tho  house  of  detention,  tho 
(incicnt  ovtrog  or  stronghold  which  every  town  has  always  had  for 
tho  safe  liceping  of  prisoners  charged  with  ollVnces, — in  these  were 
detained  also  prisoners  awaiting  corporal  punishment  or  deporta- 
tion to  a  penal  colony;  (4)  the  hard-labour  prisons,  in  which  were 
located  tho  labour  parties  or  correctional  corps  instituted  by  the 
emperor  Kickolas.  organized  and  disciplined  on  a  military  bosia; 


7(32 


PRISON      DISCI  r  LINK 


(5)  tlie  amemtmeut  prisons  or  houses  of  industry  established  by 
the  empress  Catherine.  These  are  all  on  the  associated  system,  and 
fall  very  far  short  of  accepted  ideas  on  prison  management.  But  an 
entirely  new  cellular  prison  has  recently  been  erected  in  St  Petei's- 
burg,  which  is  a  model  of  its  kind.  It  is  a  house  of  detention  for 
persons  awaiting  trial,  and  contains  upwards  of  a  hundred  cells. 
All  the  internal  arrangements  of  this  prison  are  excellent;  but  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  the  Russian  Government  will  embark  upon 
the  expenditure  necessary  to  build  others  of  the  class.  The  eman- 
cipation of  the  serfs  in  1867,  followed  by  the  substitution  of  im- 
prisonment for  corporal  punishment,  added  enormously  to  the 
prison  population  of  Eussia.  A  great  increase  of  .prison  accom- 
modation became  necessary,  and  a  commission  was  appointed  to 
frame  a  new  penitentiary  system.  This,  as  now  adopted,  although 
not  entirely  carried  out,  consists  of  two  parts — punitive  imprison- 
ment for  short  sentences,  and  penal  probationary  detention  as  a  pre; 
liminary  to  banishment  to  a  colony.  For  the  first,  central  prisons, 
associated  not  cellular,  are  being  constructed  at  various  points,  and 
a  regulated  system  of  labour  will  be  inti'oduced  following  the  lines 
of  that  in  force  in  other  European  countries.  For  the  second,  at 
the  end  of  the  probationary  period  banishment,  or,  as  it  is  styled  in 
official  language,  enforced  colonization,  will  be  the  rule. 

Deportation  to  Siberia  began  in  1691.  It  was  principally  used 
for  political  prisoners,  insurgents,  religious  dissenters,  and  con- 
spirators. Large  numbers  of  Poles  were  exiled  in  1758  ;  others 
again  in  1830,  and  now,  since  the  Nihilist  movement,  numbers  of 
these  implacable  foes  to  the  existing  regime  are  regularly  despatched 
to  Siberia.  Th'e  total  number  deported  varijs  from  17,000  to  20,000 
per  annum,  but  this  includes  wives  and  children  who  may  elect  to 
accompany  the  exiles.  The  sentences  are  of  two  kinds — (1)  the 
loss  of  all  rights  and- (2)  the  loss  of  particular  rights.  The  first 
includes  degradation,  the  rupture  of  the  marriage  tie,  inability  to 
sign  legal  documents,  to  hold  property,  or  to  give  a  bond,  ^he 
exile  must  wear  prison  dress,  and  have  his  head  half-shaved.  He 
may  be  flogged,  and  if  murdered  would  not  be  much  missed.  After 
a  lengthened  period  of  probation  in  prison  the  exile  becomes  a 
colonist  and  may  work  on  his  own  account.  Those  sentenced  to 
the  loss  of  particular  rights  are  only  compelled  to  live  in  Siberia, 
where  they  may  get  their  living  as  they  can.  Many,  however,  are 
condemned  to  spend  a  portion  of  their  time  in  confinement  but 
without  hard  labour.  The  exiles  are  sent  from  all  parts  of  the 
empire  by  rail  or  river  to  Ekaterinburg,  and  thence  to  Tiumen, 
whence  they  are  distributed  through  Siberia.  Those  deprived 
of  partial  rights  are  generally  located  in  western  Siberia.  Those 
deprived  of  all  rights  go  on  to  eastern  Siberia.  The  latter  go  by 
river  generally  to  Tomsk  ;  thence  they  walk  to  their  ultimate  rest- 
ing place,  which  may  be  Irkutsk  or  Yakutsk  or  Tchita,  or  the  island 
of  Saghalien,  and  the  journey  may  occupy  months.  Not  long  ago 
a_ party  of  convicts  was  despatched  by  sea  to  the  last-named  destina- 
tion, embarking  at  Odessa  and  travelling  through  the  Suez  Canal  and 
by  the  Pacific  Ocean.  There  are  several  hundred  prisons  in  Siberia. 
They  are  of  three  kinds:— (1)  the  etape,  which  afford  temporary 
lodgings  for  prisoners  on  the  line  of  march  ;  (2)  the  prisylnie,  where 
the  detention  is  often  for  several  months  during  the  winter  or  until 
the  ice  is  broken  up  ;  and  (3)  the  ostrog,  the  generic  Russian  name 
for  a  prison,  which  is  the  place  of  durance  for  all  exiles  not  on 
their  own  resources.  Few  of  the  large  prisons  in  Siberia  were 
built  for  the  purpose.  They  are  converted  buildings — old  factories, 
distilleries,  and  so  forth.  They  are  all  upon  the  associate  principle, 
containing  a  number  of  large  rooms  to  accommodate  any  number 
from  twenty-five  to  a  hundred.  The  great  central  prison  near 
Irkutsk,  called  the  Alexandreffsky,  one  of  the  most  important  in 
Siberia,  generally  holds  from  1600  to  2000  prisoners  all  under 
sentence  of  hard  labour,  and  awaiting  transfer  to  the  mines.  Dr 
Lansdell,  who  visited  this  prison  in  1879,  found  the  prisoners  very 
short  of  work.  Some  were  engaged  in  making  cigarette  papers, 
others  in  shoeraaking  and  brickmaking.  The  prison  is  a  huge 
stone-bijilt  building,  very  different  from  the  ordinary  run  of  Siberian 
prisons,  which  are  usuaKy  built  of  logs  caulked  with  moss  to  keep 
out  tlie  cold.  They  are  surrounded  by  a  high  wooden  palisade. 
Each  prison  has  its  hospital,  chapel,  generally  a  schoolroom,  and 
a  few  workshops.  The  prisoners  themselves  are  not  unkindly 
treated.  At  most  of  the  stations  there  are  local  committees  to 
watch  over  the  welfare  of  the  prisoners.  This  is  an  e-xteusion  of 
tho  Ijnpgrial  Society  of  St  Petersburg  already  mentioned.  The 
coni  -nittees  supply  books  and  visit  the  prisoners.  They  clothe  and 
educate  the  prisoners'  children,  and  help  their  wives  to  emjiloy- 
ment.  They  also  augment  the  prisoners'  diet  from  funds  obtained 
by  subscription.  The  regulation  rations  of  Siberian  exiles  seem 
very  liberal.  The  Kussian  prisoner  has  nearly  twice  the  amount 
of  solid  food  that  an  English  prisoner  receives,  and  he  is  at  liberty 
to  add  to  his  diet  out  of  his  own  means,  which  the  English  prisoner 
is  not.  The  prisoners  are  also  supplied  with  ample  clothing  if 
they  have  none  of  their  own,  those  sentenced  to  deprivation  of  all 
rights  being  obliged'to  wear  convict  dress.  The  discipline  of  the 
prisons  is  now  in  accordance  with  European  ideas.  Prison  offences 
•re  punished  by  relegation  to  a  solitary  cell,  a  certfun  number  of 


which  exist  at  all  the  prisons.  Diminutions  of  diet  are  also  inflicted, 
and  an  obligation  to  wear  irons  if  they  are  not  already  worn.  AH 
exiles  wear  leg-irons  for  a  certain  time.  These  are  riveted  on  to 
the  ankles,  and  caught  by  a  chain  which  is  carried  suspended  to  a 
belt  round  the  waist.  The  irons  a-re  worn  for  various  periods 
from  eighteen  months  to  four  and  even  eight  years.  Very  heinous 
offenders  or  those  who  have  escaped  frequently  are  chained  to  a 
wheelbarrow,  which  they  are  obliged  to  pull  about  with  them 
wherever  they  go.  A  more  seveie  punishment  when  confinement 
and  irons  fail  is  birching  with  a  rod,  for  the  knout  is  now  abolished. 
The  rod  consists  of  switches  so  small  that  three  may  be  passed 
together  into  the  muzzle  of  a  musket.  The  punishment  is  described 
as  not  more  severe  than  that  intlicteil  at  English  public  schools. 
There  is  another  flagellator,  however,  called  the  jyletc,  a  whip  of 
twisted  hide,  which  is  still  retained  at  a  few  of  the  most  distant 
Siberian  prisons  and  only  for  the  most  incorrigible,  on  whom  irons, 
the  birch,  and  other  punishments  have  had  no  effect.  The  costli- 
ness of  deportation  is  enormous  and  the  results  it  obtains  doubtful. 
The  slow  colonization  of  this  vast  territory  may  follow  eventually, 
but  there  are  already  great  difficulties  in  finding  employment  for 
the  mass  of  labour  in  the  Goveniment's  hands.  'The  mines  of  gold, 
silver,  and  coal  are  passing  into  private  hands,  and  t'here  are  no 
other  public  works.  Hence  part  of  the  Eussian  criminals  who 
would  have  gone  to  Siberia  are  detained  in  the  large  prisons  in 
Russia,  where  they  are  employed  in  manufactories  or  in  the  labours 
of  ordinary  mechanics,  or  any  outdoor  work  such  as  making  bricks, 
mending  roads,  and  manufacturing  salt.  Nevertheless  recent  visit- 
ors to  Russian  prisons,  whether  in  Russia  proper  or  in  the  heart  of 
Siberia,  describe  the  prisoners  as  generally  idle.  The  principle  of 
progressive  stages  by  which  a  prisoner  can  gain  a  remission  ot  sen- 
tence or  milder  treatment  prevails  throughout.  The  well-conducted 
persons  can  earn  wages,  and  may  spend  the  money  in  buying  an 
increase  to  their  diet.  The  bulk  of  the  worst  convicts  giavitate  to 
the  island  of  Saghalien,  where  the  number  in  1879  was  about  2000. 
Half  of  those  wer«  kept  in  prison,  half  remained  comparatively  free. 
The  discipline  here  is  very  severe.  The  diet  is  said  to  be  scanty,  and 
as  the  island  is  barren  everything  has  to  be  imported.  Fish,  how- 
ever, is  found  in  large  quantities.  There  are  four  large  prisons  .-it 
Dui,  the  principal  post  on  the  island,  which  are  insufficiently  heatid 
in  winter  and  generally  overcrowded.  The  convicts  are  chi-.lly 
employed  in  raising  coal  from  mines  which  are  let  to  a  company. 
Very  conflicting  evidence  is  current  as  regards  the  Siberian  prise.!-;. 
Prince  Kropotkine,  an  exile,  speaking  with  some  authority,  ■!> 
nounces  them  as  hotbeds  of  vice  and  cruelty.  Dr  Lan^Iell  on  the 
other  hand,  a  reputable  eyewitness,  does  not  on  the  whole  sjieak 
unfavourably  of  them.  He  describes  them  as  rough,  perhaps  ;  but 
so  are  Siberian  dwellings.  He  thinks  that  as  compared  with  the 
English  convict  the  Siberian  is  not  badly  off.  The  labour  is  lighter  ; 
he  has  more  privileges  ;  friends  may  see  hira  oftener  and  bring  him 
food ;  and  he  passes  his  time  neither  in  the  seclusion  of  a  cell  nor 
in  unbroken  silence,  but  among  his  fellows  with  whom  he  may 
lounge,  talk,  and  speak.  The  Russian  convict,  however,  misses 
those  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious  influences  which  are  abun- 
dantly showered  upon  the  English.  There  are  no  prisoners'  aid 
societies  in  Siberia,  and  the  convict,  after  release,  when  suH'ered  to 
begin  life  again  on  his  own  account,  carries  with  him  always  the 
convict  stain  and  is  hindered  rather  than  helped  to  begin  life  afresh. 
Dr  Lansdell  sums  up  his  opinion  in  these  words  : — 

"Taken  at  the  worst,  condemnation  to  the  mines  is  not  so  bad  as  it  seems  ;  and, 
in  the  case  of  peasant  exiles  willing  to  work,  I  cannot  but  tliinktiiat  many  of  Itlcm 
have  a  beiterchance  of  doinc  well  in  several  pans  of  Siberi.T  than  at  lioine  in  some 
parts  of  Russia.  There  is  reason  to  suppose  that  j-eports  of  the  ilf-treatnicnt  of 
Russian  prisoners  have  been  greatly  exapcerated  by  careless,  ill-informed,  or 
malicious  wi  iters.  No  doubt  some  ye.irs  ago  there  were  cood  prcwmds  for  serious 
complaint.  It  is  very  evident  tliut  now  the  political  prisoner,  beyond  exile,  and 
temporary  confinement  in  the  jail,  is  not  ill-used  He  is  not  always  subjectt  d  to 
the  ordinaj-y  discipline  of  the  criminal  convict,  nor  is  he  obliged  to  associate  witli 
them,  A  fabulous  story  lias  long  been  current  that  the  worst  criminals  were 
biu-ied  alive  in  quicksilver  mines,  whei'e  they  weie  speedily  killed  by  the  unhealthy 
fumes.  There  are  no  quicksilver  mines  in  Sibeiia,  and  the  principal  mines,  those 
of  Nertchinsk,  are  now  passing  out  of  Government  hands.  These  are  mostly  of 
silver,  although  other  minerals  and  gems  ai-e  found  in  the  ncighbuurhood.  The 
hours  of  labour  in  the  Nertchinsk  mines  were  tTiliteen,  and  it  was  the  same  at  the 
Kara  gold  mines.  The  convicts  ariange  their  hours  of  woik  themselves.  No 
definite  amount  of  mineral  was  required,  so  they  migiit  work  hard  or  not  as  they 
pleased.  No  doubt  the  lot  of  convicts  in  tliese  mines  was  hard.  Besidcsithe  laxity 
of  discipline,  the  herding  together  of  the  worst  chai-aeters  and  the  deprivation  of 
social,  intellectual,  and  religious  nrivileges  must  h&ve  made  life  a  burden  to 
many." 

Spain,  like  Portugal,  still  lags  behind.  It  is  not  to  the  credit 
of  a  country  in  which  prison  discipline  was  discussed  three 
centuries  ago  that  now  at  the  close  of  the  19th  its  prison 
system  is  about  the  worst  in  Europe.  Till  very  recently  the  posts 
of  governors  in  the  jails  were  sold  to  the  highest  bidder,  and  pur- 
chasers were  suffered  to  recoup  themselves  out  ot  the  unfortunate 
wretches  committed  to  their  charge.  The  principal  prison  in  the 
capital  of  the  kingdom  was  nothing  more  than  a  converted  slaughter 
house  where  pigs  were  killed  and  salted,  as  its  name,  the  Saladero, 
implied.  This  dark,  dirty,  noisome  den,  although  generally  con- 
demned, continues  to  serve  even  now.  Numerous  efforts  to  provide 
a  more  suitable  nrisou  have  been  made  from  time  to  time.     The 


PRISON     DISCIPLINE 


763 


construction  of  model  prisons  was  decreed  as  far  back  as  1847,  but 
ill  1860  nothing  had  been  done,  and  a  new  project  was  brought 
forward.  Again  in  1869  a  fresh  scheme  replaced  the  previous  ones, 
ivhich  were  still  dead  letters.  Seven  more  years  elapsed,  and  in 
1876  a  new  law  was  passed  providing  for  the  construction  of  a 
new  cellular  prison  in  Madrid  with  cells  for  a  thousand  prisoners. 
This  law  too  nung  fire,  and  the  prison  is  not  yet  completed.  The 
oulk  of  the  prison  population  in  .Spiin  is  still  sent  to  presidios, 
Kr  convict  establishments,  where  general  association  both  in  the 
prison  and  at  labour  is  the  rule.  The  principal  of  these  are  situated 
it  Cartagena,  Valencia,  where  there  are  two  prisons,  Valladoliil, 
Granada,  and  Burgos.  There  are  also  prisons  at  Alcala,  Tarragona, 
Saragossa,  and  Santona.  Persons  convicted  of  giave  crimes  are 
Reported  to  the  Balearic  Islands  or  to  the  penal  settlements  in 
Africa,  the  principal  of  which  are  situated  at  Ceuta  and  Melilla. 
throughout  these  establishments  there  is  an  utter  absence  of 
(anitary  regulations;  the  diet  is  coarse  and  meagre  ;  the  discipline 
jS  brutal  ;  thu  authorities  are  quite  callous  ;  and  morality  does  not 
fjtist.  The  Spanish  authorities,  however,  claim  the  credit  of  havjny 
ibolished  corporal  punishment  in  their  prisons. 

Sweden. — A  great  impetus  was  given  to  prison  reform  in  Sweden 
by  the  interest  taken  in  the  question  by  King  Oscar  I.  in  1840. 
Following  special  legislation,  tliirty-eight  new  cellular  prisons  were 
built  in  the  various  provinces  of  the  kingdom.  These  prisons  have 
been  used  since  for  all  prisoners  awaiting  trial,  those  condemned  to 
rcclusion  and  those  sentenced  to  imprisonment  with  hard  labour  for 
pvo  years  and  under.  Persons  sentenced  to  pay  fines,  but  unable  to 
pay,  go  to  the  cellular  prisons.  The  isolation  is  continuous  day 
jnd  night.  Besides  these  cellular  there  are  a  number  of  associated 
prisons  for  terms  longer  than  two  years  and  up  to  life.  The  labour 
m  the  fii'st-named  is  of  the  usual  kind — tailoring,  shoemaking,  and 
some  kinds  of  carpentry.  Trade  instructors  are  specially  appointed, 
60  as  to  provide  a  prisoner  on  liberation  with  some  employment. 
In  the  associated  prisons  there  is  more  variety  of  work  :  linen  and 
(VooUen  cloths  are  manufactured,  timber  split  up  for  matches, 
granite  cut  and  dressed  for  buildings  and  pavements,  The  female 
prisoners  weave  textile  fabrics,  and  make  match  bo.\e3.  A  portion 
of  the  earnings  is  granted  to  prisoners,  which,  to  a  limited  extent, 
may  bo  spent  in  buying  extra  food„  There  is  no  purely  penal 
laljour,  nor  any  regulateasystem  of  granting  remissions  for  industry 
or  good  conduct.  Jtany  aid  societies  were  formed  about  twenty- 
five  years  ago,  but  through  want  of  success  or  funds  their  number 
has  dwindled  down  to  two. 

Su-itxrland. — From  the  complete  independence  of  each  canton, 
each  has  its  own  special  penal  system  and  places  of  imprisonment. 
Hence  the  systems  are  various,  and  are  not  all  equally  good.  The 
prisons  of  Switzerland  may  be  divided  into  four  groups  : — (1)  those 
of  the  cantons  of  Uri,  Schwyz,  U-nterwaldcn,  and  Valais,  which 
are  still  of  a  patriaichal  character ;  (2)  those  of  Fribourg,  Basel 
(rural),  and  Lucerne,  which  are  on  the  associated  plan  and  un- 
satisfactory from  every  point  of  view;  (3)  those  of  tno  cantons  of 
St  Gall,  Valid,- Geneva,  and  Zurich,  which  have  prisons  for  asso- 
eiated  labour  and  separation  at  night,  while  Soleure,  Grisons,  Bern, 
iind  Schaffhausen  are  labouring  to  raise  their  prisons  to  this  level ; 
(5)  the  penitentiaries  of  Lenzburg,  Basel  (urban),  Neuohatel,  and 
Ticino,  which  are  good  modern  prisons  in  which  the  cellular  system 
is  completely  .applied.  The  system  is  one  of  progression,  the  pris- 
oner passes  through  several  stages  of  isolation,  employment  in 
issociation,  and  comparative  freedom  ;  but  only  at  Neuchitel  is 
there  separation  by  day  as  well  as  night.  The  general  principle  is 
one  of  collective  imprisonment ;  but  there  is  an  attempt  at  classifi- 
cation, according  to  degrees  of  morality,  in  the  best  prisons.  Sen- 
tences may  be  either  to  imprisonment  or  reclusion  with  hard  labour. 
The  first  may  bo  from  twenty-four  hours  to  five  years  ;  the  second 
from  one  year  to  fifteen,  twenty,  thirty  years,  or  to  life.  An  ab- 
breviation of  punishment  may  under  all  the  cantonal  laws  bo 
pbtaincd,  but  such  reduction  is  rarely  made  according  to  fixed  rules. 
Jn  most  of  the  cantons  prisoners  have  a  share  in  their  own  labour. 
This  labour  is  chiefly  industrial,  but  there  is  a  form  of  penal  labour 
to  bo  seen  where  the  plan  has  survived  of  employing  certain  pris- 
oners to  sweep  the  streets,  make  roads,  or  dyke  the  rivers.  Such 
labour  is  felt  to  have  a  bad  moral  elTect,  and.  industrial  labour  is 
preferred.  The  latter  is  conducted  by  the  administration  itself, 
and  not  by  contracto-s.  It  is  thought  that  the  state  can  introduce 
B  greater  variety  of  employments,  and  control  the  prisoner  better 
when  at  labour  than  could  free  employers.  Aid  Bociotics  exist  in 
most  of  the  cantons  ;  the  first  was  established  at  St  Gall  about 
1845.  Wherever  they  exist  tho  societies  protect  prisoners  in 
durance  and  assist  prisoners  on  release  by  providing  tools  and 
employment  with  private  persons.  The  only  drawback  in  tho  Swiss 
aid  societies  is  the  want  of  organization  and  uniformity  of  action. 

United  Stales.  — There  is  no  uniform  prison  system  in  tho  United 
States.  The  variety  of  jurisdictions  following  tho  constant  ex- 
tension of  territory  and  development  of  communities  moro  or  less 
populous  perpetuates  changing  conditions,  and  tho  supremo  Govern- 
ment has  not  concerned  itself  greatly  with  prison  alfairs,  and  has 
pKimed  no  supervision  or  special  control.     The  rule  of.  local  self- 


government  has  left  each  jurisdiction  to  manage  its  prison  according 
to  its  own  ideas,  and  hence  the  utmost  diversity  of  practice  still 
obtains.  AVhile  some  prisons  are  as  good  as  need  be,  others  aio 
marked  with  many  defects.  There  is  j.  Avido  distinction  between 
the  best  and  the  woi-st.  In  the  couDtTy  which  initiated  prison 
reform,  numbers  of  prisons  exist  nowadays  which  fall  far  below  the 
commonest  requirements  of  a  good  prison  system.  Taken  broadly, 
the  prisons  of  the  Union  may  be  classed  iuto — (1)  State  prisons ;  ('J) 
district  prisons  ;  (3)  county  prisons  ;  (4)  municipal  or  city  prisons. 
Each  State  as  a  rule  has  its  own  State  prison,  but  Pennsylvania 
and  Indiana  have  two  and  New  York  three  such  prisons.  The 
cellular  system,  or  the  '.ule  of  continuous  separation,  to  which  refer- 
ence has  been  made  already  (see  p.  753),  was  at  first  followed  by 
several  States,  but  gradually  abaudoned  in  favour  of  the  so-called 
silent  system,  or  that  of  labour  in  association  under  the  rule  ol 
silence,  with  cellular  separation  at  night.  At  tho  present  time 
there  is  but  one  prison,  the  Kastern  Penitentiary  of  Philadelphia, 
managed  on  the  purely  solitary  plan.  Of  the  long-sentenced  con- 
victs 96  per  cent,  are  now  confined  in  congregate  j'risons.  "'here 
are  about  forty  State  prisons  in  all.  Of  the  district  prisons  inter- 
mediate between  the  State  and  the  county  prisons  there  are  but  few. 
The  county  prisons  are  by  far  the  most  numerous.  Tho  county 
in  the  United  States  is  the  unit  of  political  organization  under  the 
State,  and,  with  area  and  population  comparatively  limited,  is  a 
convenient  subdivison  for  the  purposes  of  the  criminal  law.  Hence 
it  has  been  asserted  that  no  one  knows  exactly  the  number  of  county 
prisons  in  the  United  States,  but  it  has  been  computed  at  upwards 
of  two  thousand.  The  city  or  municipal  prisons  are  also  very 
numerous  and  constantly  increasing.  Each  and  every  one,  as  iu 
tho  State  prisons,  is  managed  locally  by  local  authorities,  with  the 
inevitable  result  of  the  utmost  diversity  in  practice,  and  often 
enough  the  utmost  neglect  of  the  commonest  rules  of  prison  dis- 
cipline. A  self-constituted  body  inspected  a  couple  of  hundred  of 
these  jails  a  few  years  back,  and  reported  that  they  were  mostly 
defective  from  a  sanitary  point  of  view,  insecure,  and  so  constructed 
as  to  compel  the  promiscuous  association  of  all  classes  old  and  young, 
the  guilty  and  innocent,  tlie  novice  and  the  hardened  in  crime. 
The  sexes  even  were  not'  invariably  separated.  Little  or  no  employ- 
ment was  provided  for  tho  prisoners,  and  iu  few  prisons  was  any 
efi"ort  made  to  compass  religious  or  intellectual  culture.  An  eye- 
witness, Dr  Wines,  reporting  of  other  jails  of  the  same  class  still 
more  recently,  unhesitatingly  condemned  them.  "Ohio,  to-day," 
says  the  Ohio  Board  of  Charity,  "  supports  base  seminaries  of  crime 
at  public  expense."  "In  our  jail  system  lingers  more  barbarism 
than  in  all  our  other  State  institutions  together."  ^  Yet  there  are  a 
few  and  conspicuous  exceptions  to  the  general  verdict  of  condemna- 
tion. The  discipline  and  management  of  tho  district  prisous  at 
Albany,  Detroit,  Rochester,  and  Pittsburgh  are  excellent.  The 
good  example  is  gradually  becoming  more  and  more  largely  imitated. 
Where  good  prisons  exist  it  will  be  found  that  their  administration 
remains  for  some  length  of  time  in  intelligent  hands,  free  from  the 
"  pernicious  influence  of  partisan  politics.  The  chief  drawback  to 
improvement  is  the  uncertainty  no  less  than  the  complexity  of  tho 
governing  bodies.  These  are  apt  to  bo  changed  capriciously  ;  and, 
what  is  worse,  they  arc- needlessly  intricate  and  olten  far  too  numer- 
ous. They  act  independently,  without  reference  to  .each  other, 
and  they  are  not  too  ready  to  benefit  by  example  and  experience. 
What  is  wanted  is  a  supreme  central  authority  over  all  the  prisons 
of  a  State,  if  not  throughout  tho  Union.  Whciever  there  is  the 
nearest  approach  to  this  the  results  aro  most  satisfactory. 

It  is  not  strange  that  under  these  conditions  discipline  should 
also  vary  greatly,  or,  as  has  been  said,  "  every  variety  of  discipline, 
lack  of  discipline,  or  abuse  of  discipline  is  found.'  Neither  tho 
deterrent  nor  tho  reforni!ftory  agencies  are  properly  or  uniformly 
brought  to  bear.  Prison  punishments  aro  still  severe;  although  flog- 
ging is  nominally  abolished,  it  is  said  to  be  still  practised  in  prisons 
where;  it  is  forbidden  ;  and  soi»e  more  ancient  methods  such'as  tho 
yoke,  tho  shower  bath,  and  tho  iron  crown  have  not  yet  entirely 
disappeared.  There  is,  however,  often  good  secular  and  religious 
instruction.  Tho  dietaries  aro  fuller  than  on  the  opposite  side  of 
tho  Atlantic,  meat  is  a  more  common  ingredient,  and  Indian  meal 
is  very  largely  issued.  Tho  financial  results  obtained  are  not  un- 
satisfactwy:  many  of  the  State  prisons  are  now  sclfaupporting,  and 
an  examination  ol  tho  labour  returns  will  prove  that  much  enter- 
prise has  been  displayed  in  finding  employment  for  the  prisoners. 
Thcro  is  no  pur»ly  penal  labour,  although  much  of  the  labour 
performed  is  suflTiciently  severe.  There  may  bo  no  treadwheel  or 
cranks,  but  convicts  in  Alabama  and  Texas  have  been  employed 
to  build  railways  ;  they  have  raised  cotton  in  Jli^sissippi,  and  have 
worked  mines  in  Tennessee  and  New  York,  while  in  many  States 
they  aro  utilized  in  gardening  and  agriculture.  A  great  deal  of 
labour  has  been  expended  on  nuarrying  and  dressing  stone  for 
building,  orfoi'  burning  iuto  quicklime  ;  at  Auburn  there  is  a  lurgii 
manufftctorv  of  agricultural  tools  ;  Oliio  employs  suddU'rs  ;  Massa- 
chusetts prisoners  make  ornamental  iron  work;  in  Michigan  they 
tan  leulhcr  ;  and  at  Uannemora,  in  noithern  Nivv  Yi.ik,  iron  oie  i.« 
quarried,  smelted,  forged,  and  wrought  into  nails  by  tho  prisonfis 


764 


P  R  I  —  P  It  I 


in  {general  the  labour  h  hired  by  contractors  at  a  fixed  sum  per  day, 
which  varies  from  a  few  cents'  to  as  much  as  a  dollar.  The  chief 
Mase  for  the  present  inadequacy  of  the  American  prisons,  over  and 
above  the  faults  in  administration  already  mentioned,  is  probably 
the  rapidly  increased  demand  on  their  accommodation  in  recent 
years.  This  is  due  partly  to  the  growth  of  population,  partly  also 
to  the  influx  of  "coloured "  criminals  since  the  emancipation.  In 
the  days  of  slavery  the  slave,  was  punished  summarily  by  his 
i^aster,  but  now  he  is  arraigned  and  sent  to  prison.  The  result 
has  been  that  the  prisons  were  suddenly  crowded  before  any  new 
and  improved  system  could  be  introduced. 

While  there  are  but  few  agencies  for  the  assistance  of  discharged 
prisoners,  considerable  care  is  devoted  in  the  United  States  to  the 
treatment  and  checking  of  juvenile  crime.  Eeformatories  have 
existed  since  1825,  when  the  first  was  established  on  Randall's 
Island  within  the  limits  of  the  city  of  New  York.  Others  followed  ; 
but  those  did  not  form  part  of  the  penal  system  of  the  States  till 
1847,  when  the  State  reform  school  at  Westborough  was  established 
by  law.  They  soon  increased  and  multiplied,  and  now  between 
gixteen  and  twenty  are  to  be  found  within  the  principal  States. 
There  aie  also  a  number  of  semi-public  schools.  The  average 
refcimatory  population  is  about  15,000.  The  results  are  said  to  bo 
very  satisfactory.  The  percostago  of  youths  reformed  and  trained 
into  good  citizens  has  been  placed  as  high  as  60,  75,  even  80  per 
cent.  Parents  may  in  some  States  contribute  to  the.  support  of 
their  cliildren  in  reformatories,  but  as  a  rule  the  inmates  are 
orphans  or  abandoned  children  or  those  whose  parents  are  very 
poor.  The  best  system  for  training  .ind  caring  for  juvenile  offenders 
probably  is  that  which  obtains  in  ilassachusetts.  (A.  G. ) 

PRISREND,  Peisdren,  Prisdea,  Pisdra,  Piseen,  or 
PiSEA,  in  Roumelia,  the  chief  towa  of  a  sandjak  and  the 
seat  of  a  Greek  and  a  Roman  Catholic  -.archbishop,  in  the 
Turkish  vilayet  of  K6ssovo  (formerly  Monastir),  stretches 
for  2  or  3  miles  along  the  north-western  base  of  the 
Scardus  or  Shar-dagh,  and  is  traversed  by  the  rapid  waters 
of  the  Resna  Mitritza,  which,  issuing  from  a  deep  gorge  a 
little  above  the  town,  joins  the  Drin  (White  or  Albanian 
Drin)  a  few  miles  below.  To  the  north-north-west  of 
Prisrend,  which  lies  at  a  height  of  1577  feet,  above  the 
sea,  a  great  undulating  and  fertile  plain  extends  for  more 
than  40  miles  towards  Ipek.-  In  1865  the  Roman  Catholic 
archbishop  estimated  the  total  at  50,000  (800D  Moham- 
medan families,  3000  Greek,  and  150  Latin).  It  is  now 
about  46,000.  There  is  a  castle  on  the  buttress  of  the 
Scardus,  at  the  foot  of  which  lies  the  Christian  quarter, 
with  a  small  brick-built  ancient^looking  Byzantine  church. 
The  old  cathedral,  now  a  mos.'^e,  is  also  a  Byzantine  build- 
ing. Prisrend,  doubtfully  identified  with  Tharendus,  was 
at  one  time  the  capital  of  Servia,  and  the  district  is  still 
called  Old  Servia.  At  present  the  town  owes  much  of  its 
importance  to  its  manufacture  of  arms ;  and  it  also  pro- 
duces glass,  pottery,  and  saddlery. 

PRIYATEER  is  an  armed  vessel  belonging  to  a  private 
owner,  the  subject  of  a  belligerent  power,  commissioned 
by  the  sovereign  of  that  power.  The  commission  is  either 
a  commission  of  war  or  of  marque  and  reprisab  in  time 
of  peace.  It  was  marque  in  this  sense  which  was  granted 
to  aggrieved  subjects  of  the  realm  of  England  as  early 
as  the  statute  4  Hen.  V.  c.  7.  The  term  "letters  of 
marque,"  however,  is  now  generally  applied  less  strictly  to 
the  commission  under  which  a  privateer  sails  in  time  of 
war.  The  acceptance- of  a  commission  from  a  belligerent 
power  by  a  neutral,  though  not  piracy  by  the  law  of 
nations,  lias  frequently  been  made  so  by  treaty.^  Accept- 
ance of  such  a  commission  by  a  British  subject  is  for- 
bidden by  the  Foreign  Enlistment  Act,  1870.  A  vessel 
with  a  commission  from  each  of  two  powers  at  war  with 
one  another  is  a  pirate  by  the  law  of  natiofts.  Privateers 
stand  in  a  position  between  that  of  a  public  ship  of  war 
and  a  merchant  vessel.  They  are  not  entitled  to  the  full 
rights  which  the  comity  of  nations  e.Ktends  to  public  ships 
of  war ;  e.y.,  by  the  municipal  regulations  of  most  nations 
tliey  may  not  Carry  the  flag  of  a  public  ship  of  war.    A 


'  Instances  will  be  found  in  Phillimore,  Tyitcr^a^innal  Lam,  vol. 
|)t.  iii.  ch.  X.T.  ;  Twiss,  Law  of  Nalions,  vol.  ii.  cii  L, 


capture  made  by  a  prieateer  may  either  become  the  pro- 
perty of  the  captor  or,  ioUowing  the  general  rule  of  inter- 
national law,  the  property  of  the  state  (see  Peize).  In 
Great  Britain,  in  order  to  encourage  privateering,  the 
pri^e  taken  by  a  privateer  was  formerly  divided  between 
the  owners  and  the  captors,  and  the  rights  of  the  crown 
were  specially  excluded  in  numerous  Prize  Acts.  But 
now,  by  the  Naval  Prize  Act,  1864,  a  prize  made  by  a 
privateer  belongs  to  the  crown  in  its  office  of  admiralty. 
By  the  United  States  Prize.  Act  of  1864,  the  whole  pro- 
ceeds of  a  prize  made  by  a  privateer  go,  unless  it  is  other- 
wise provided  in  her  commission,  to  the  captors.  The 
sum  awarded  is  divided,  in  the  absence  of  agreement, 
equally  between  the  owners  and  the  ship's  company. 

Privateering  is  now  a  matter  of  much  less  importance  than  it 
fonnerly  was,  owing  to  the  terms  of  Art.  1  of  the  Declaration  of 
Paris,  April  16,  1856,  "Privateering  is  and  remains  abolished." 
Tho  Declaration  binds  only  the  powers  who  are  signatories  or  who 
afterwards  assented,  and  those  only  when  engaged  in  war  with  one 
another.  The  United  States,  Mexico,  Uruguay,  and  Spain  have 
not  acceded  to  it,  and  thus  it  would  not  hold  in  case  of.  a  war  be- 
tween tho  United  States  and  any  other  power,  whether  the  latter 
were  bound  by  the  Declaration  or  not.  By  the  constitution  of  the 
United  States,  Congress  has  power  to  grant  letters  of  marque  and 
reprisal.  Congress,  by  an  Act  of  March  3,  1863,  authorized  the 
issue  of  letters  of  marque  by  the  president,  but  they  were  never  in 
fact  issued  either  by  the  United  States  or  Confederate  Government. 

In  tho  Franco-Prussian  War  of  1870,  Prussia,  in  spite  of  the 
Declaration  of  Paris,  took  a  course  very  little  removed  from  priva- 
teering in  the  creation  of  a  volunteer  fleet. 

PRIVET  {Ligusti~um),  the  vernacular  name-  of  a  genus 
of  Oleacem.  There  are  several  species,  all  of  them  shrubs 
or  low  trees  with  evergreen  or  nearly  evergreen  opposite 
entire  leaves,  and  dense  cymes  of  small  white  tubular 
four-parted  flowers,  enclosing  two  stamens  and  succeeded 
by  small,  globular,  usually  black  berries,  each  with  a 
single  pendulous  seed.  The  best-known  species  is  the 
common  European  privet,  which  makes  good  hedges  in 
cases  where  no  great  powers  of  resistance  to  the  inroads 
of  cattle,  &c.,  are  required.  L.  ovajifolium  thrives  by 
the  seaside  and  even  in  towns,  and  is  thus  a  valuable  all 
but  evergreen  shrub.  L.  lucidum  is  taller  and  handsomer. 
There  are  several  other  species,  mostly  natives  of  China 
and  Japan,  some  of  which  when  attacked  by  a  species  of 
scale-insect  (Coccus)  yield  a  waxy  substance. 

PRIVILEGE,  in  law,  is  an  immunity  or  exemption 
conferred  by  special  grant  in  derogation  of  common  right. 
The  term  is  derived  from  2}rivilegiu7n,  a  law  specially 
passed  in  favour  of  or  against  a  particular  person.  In 
Roman  law  the  latter  sense  was  the  more  common ;  in 
modern  law  the  word  bears  only  the  former  sense.  Privi- 
lege in  English  law  is  either  personal  or  real, — that  is  to 
say,  it  is  granted  to  a  person,  as  a  peer,  or  to  a  place,  as 
a  university.  The  most  important  instances  at  present 
existing  in  England  are  the  privilege  of  parliament  (see 
Paeli.\hent),  the  privilege  which  protects  certain  com- 
munications from  being  regarded  as  libellous  (see  Libel), 
and  certain  privileges  enjoyed  by  the  clergy  and  others,  by 
which  they  are  to  some  extent  exempt  from  public  duties, 
such  as  serving  on  juries.  Privileged  copyholds  are  those 
held  by  the  custom  of  the  manor  and  not  by  the  will  of 
the  lord.  There  are  certain  debts  in  England,  Scotland, 
and  the  United  States  which  are  said  to  be  privileged, 
that  is,  such  debts  as  the  executor  may  pay  before  all 
others — for  example,  funeral  expenses  or  servants'  wages. 
In  English  law  the  term  "  preferred  "  rather  than  "  privi- 
leged" is  generally  applied  to  such  debts.  There  are 
certain  deeds  and  summonses  which  are  privileged  in 
Scotch  law,  the  former  because  they  require  less  solemnity 
than   ordinary   deed-s   the    latter   because   the   ordinary 

'  Another  form  of  the  n.ime,  primprivet,  primprint,  or  p/imel,  like 
.   lliiuslr'uii  itself,  used  at  one  time  to  be  applied  to  the  primrose. 


p  11 1  —  r  JR  1 


7G5 


inducix  arc   shortened   in  their  case   (see  Watson,    Law 
Diet.,  s.v.  "Privilege"). 

In  the  United  States  the  term  privilege  is  of  considerable  poiiti- 
s:>l  importance.  By  Art.  IV.  §  2  of  the  constitution,  "the  citizciiiJ 
of  cacl\  State  shall  bo  entitled  to  all  privilcjcs  ami  immunities  of 
citizens  in  the  several  Slates."  By  Art.  XIV.  §  1  of  the  amend- 
jnents  to  the  constitution  (enacted  July  2S,  1S68),  "no  State  shall 
make  or  enforce  any  law  which  shall  abridge  the  iirivilegcs  or 
inminnitics  of  citizens  of  the  United  States."  It  will  be  noticed 
that  Art.  IV".  applies  to  citizens  of  the  States,  Art.  XIV.  to 
citizens  of  the  United  States.  "  The  intention  of  this  clause  (Art. 
IV.)  was  to  confer  on  the  .citizens  of  each  State,  if  one  may  so 
say,  a  general  citizenship,  and  to  commuuicato  all  the  privileges 
aiul  iinnuinities  which  tlio  citizens  of  the  same  State  would  have, 
been  entitled  to  under  the  like  circumslancos "  (Story,  Constitu- 
tion of  the  United  Slates,  g  1806).  The  clauses  have  several  times 
been  the  subject  of  judicial  decision  in  the  supreme  court.  Their 
practical  clfect  may  be  thus  illustrated.  With  regard  to  Art. 
IV.,  it  was  held  that  a  State  licence- tax  discriminating  against 
commodities  the  production  of  other  States  was  void  as  abridging 
the  privileges  and  immunities  of  the  citizens  of  such  other  States 
(Ward  V.  State  of  Maryland,  12  Wallace's  Reports,  418).  With 
regard  to  Art.  XIV.  1,  it  was  held  that  its  main  purpose  was  to 
protect  from  tlic  hostile  legislation  of  the  States  the  jjrivileges  and 
immunities  of  citizens  of  the  United  States,  looking  more  especi- 
ally to  the  then  recent  admission  of  negroes  to  political  rights! 
Accordingly  it  was  held  that  a  grant  of  exclusive  right  or  privilege 
of  maintaining  slaughter-houses  fortwenty-one  years,  imposing  at 
tlie  same  time  the  duty  of  providing  ample  conveniences,,  was  not 
unconstitutional,  as  it  was  only  a  police  regulation  for  the  health 
of  the  people  (The  Slaughter-House  Cases,  16  Wallace,  36).  The 
same  has  been  held  of  a  refusal  by  a  State  to  grant  to  a  woman 
a  licence  to  practise  law  (Bradvvell  v.  The  State,  16  Wallace,  130), 
of  a  State  law  confining  the  right  of  suffrage  to  males  (Miiior  v. 
Hiippcrsett,  21  Wallace,  162),  and  of  a  State  law  regulating  the  sale 
of  intoxicating  liquors  (Bartemeyer  v.  Iowa,  18  Wallace,  129). 
Suits  to  redress  the  deprivation  of  privilege  secured  by  the  consti- 
tution of  the  United  States  must  be  brought  in  a  United  States 
court.  It  is  a  crime  to  conspire  to  prevent  the  free  exercise  and 
enjoyment  of  any  privilege,  or  to  conspire  to  deprive  any  person 
of  equal  privileges  and  immunities,  or  under  colour  of  law  to 
subject  any  inhabitant  of  a  State  or  Territory  to  the  deprivation 
of  any  privileges  or  immunities  {^Revised' Statutes  of  Dnil^d  States,  §§ 
5507,  5510,  5519). 

PRIVY  COUNCIL.  In  England  the  king  almost  of 
necessity  has  been  at  all  times  guided  by  a  council.  The 
council,  as  it  existed  in  the  Norman  period  under  the 
name  of  curia  regis  (a  branch  of  the  larger  commune  con- 
cilium regni),  exercised  judicial,  legislative,  and  administra- 
tive functions.  It  contained  the  germs  of  the  courts  of 
law  and  equity,  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  the  privy 
council.  The  Courts  of  King's  Bench  and  Common  Pleas 
were  gradually  separated  from  it  and  became  only  courts 
of  first  instance,  subject  to  appeal  to  the  king's  council. 
From  the  time  of  Edward  I.  the  concilium  ordinarimn,  the 
ordinary  or  standing  council  of  the  king,  superseded  the 
oo'w  rerjis.  It  exercised  high  judicial  functions  as  the 
ultimate  court  of  appeal,  as  the  adviser  of  suitors  on 
petition  what  court  to  choose  for  redress,  and  as  the  resort 
of  those  who  failed  to  obtain  justice  in  the  ordinary  course. 
It  was  also  the  supreme  administrative  body,  and  as  such 
issued  ordinances  on  matters  of  a  local  or  temporary  nature, 
with  not  infrequent  usurpations  at  a  later  period  of  juris- 
diction belonging  rtiore  properly  to  the  common  law  courts 
or  to  parliament.  The  council  "consisted  of  the  chief 
ministers,  the  chancellor,  treasurer,  lord  steward,  lord 
admiral,  lord  marsball,  the  keeper  of  the  privy  seal,  the 
chamberlain,  treasurer,  and  comptroller  of  the  household, 
the  chancellor  of  the  exchequer,  the  master  of  the  ward- 
robe ;  and  of  the  judges,  king's  Serjeant,  and  attorney- 
general,  the  master  of  the  rolls,  and  justices  in  eyre,  who 
at  that  time  were  not  the  same  as  the  judges  at  West- 
minster" (Hallain,  Middle  Ages,  vol.  iii.  p.  205):  The 
^jiowing  power  of  the  ordinary  council  (itldoes  not  seem,  to 
liive  been  called  the  privy  council  until  after  the  reign  of 
Ifcnry  VI.)  led  to  many  complaints  on  the  part  of  the 
Commons,  some  of  which  found  their  expression  in  statutes. 
TIic  ni"^t  worthy  of  notice  is   25   Edvr.   III.  st.   5,  c.   4, 


characterized  by  Hallara  as  probably  the  most  extensively 
Ijeneficial  enactment  ■  in  the  whole  body  of  our  law3. 
Among  other  provisions  it  prohibited  arbitrary  imprison- 
ment and  the  determination  of  pleas  of  freehold  before 
the  council.  The  power  of  the  council  expanded  or  con- 
tracted according  to  the  vigour  of  the  king.  Its  authority 
was  finally  reduced  by  the  Long  Parliament  in  1640  by 
means  of  10  Car.  I.  c.  10.  Assumption  of  jurisdiction  over 
freeholds  was  still  a  grievance,  for  the  Act  specially  declared 
that  the  king's  council  has  no  jurisdiction  over  any  man's 
land,  goods,  or  chattels.  From  the  beginning  of  Edward 
III.'s  reign  the  council  and  the  House  of  Lords  were  often 
blended  into  one  assembly,  called  the  magmim  concilium 
or  great  council.  As  it  met  only  when  summoned  by 
ivrit  and  not  daily,  like  the  ordinary  council,  it  could 
scarcely  have  exerted  a.s  much  authority  as  the  latter.  It 
is  therefore  not  surprising  to  find  it  soon  split  permanently 
into  its  two  component  parts,  eacli  retaining  both  judicial 
and  legislative  authority.  The  privy  council  still  exercises 
authority  of  both  kinds,  though  not  as  completelj'  as  the 
House  of  Lords.  The  political  importance  of  the  privy 
council  has  almost  entirely  disappeared  since  the  duties  of 
government  have  been  assumed  by  the  cabinet.  Its 
modern  legislative  jurisdiction  is  of  a  subordinate  char- 
acter. Its  position  as  a  court  of  appeal  from  the  foreign 
possessions  of  the  crown  is  a  strictly  logical  one.  It  was 
always  the  court  for  redress  where  no  other  redress  could 
be  obtained.  For  the  sake  of  convenience  this  jurisdiction 
in  cases  of  what  is  now  called  equity  was  exercised  by  the 
chancellor,  originally  the  president  of  the  ordinary  council 
when  it  sat  as  a  court  of  justice.  But  in  cases  for  which 
equity  made  no  provision,  as  being  out  of  the  bounds  of 
the,  realm,  the  privy  council  still  exercises  to  the  full  one 
of  the  most  ancient  parts  of  its  jurisdiction.  Appeals  lay 
from  foreign  possessions  by  virtue  of  the  prerogative,  but 
are  now  generally  regulated  by  statute.  'The  jurisdiction 
of  the  High  Court  of  Delegates  over  ecclesiastical  and 
admiralty  cases  was  transferred  to  the  privy  council  in 
1832.  'The  council  lost  its  probate  appeal  jurisdiction  in 
1857,  its  admiralty  jurisdiction  in  appeals  from  England  in 
1875,  from  Ireland  in  1877. 

At  the  present  day  members  of  the  privy  council  become  so  at 
the  will  of  the  crown,  but  it  is  understood  that  persons  in  certain 
positions  have  an  ex  officio  claim  to  be  nominated.  The  council 
consists  of  princes  of  the  royal  family  or  of  some  of  the  great  officers 
of  state,  such  as  the  principal  members  of  the  Government,  the 
archbishops  and  the  bishop  of  London,  the  judges  of  the  Houso 
of  Lords,  the  judicial  committee,  and  the  court  of  appeal,  diplo- 
hiutists  of  high  rank,  &c.  Members  of  the  privy  council  have  tl>e 
title  of  "riglit  honourablo">and  social  precedence  next  after  knights 
of  the  Garter.  Ireland  has  its  own  privy  council.  Scotland  h,is  had 
none  of  its  own  since  6  Anne  c.  40,  which  provided  for  one  privy 
council  for  Great  Britain.  The  modern  jurisdiction  of  tho  privy 
council  may  be  divided  into  two  branches,  aflministrative  anil 
judicial. 

.Administrative. — This  jurisdiction  chiefly  depends  npon  stfttutory 
authority,  which  practically  makes  of  tho  privy  council  a  subordinnto 
legislature.  It  is  exercised  either  by  the  whole  council  or  by 
eommittcea  to  which  matters  are  referred  by  tho  crown  in  council. 
Exainjiles  of  the  latter  are  the  board  of  trade,  the  committee  of 
council  on  education,  tho  local  government  board  (see  PunMO 
Health),  tho  universities  committee,  with  temporary  powers  under 
the  Universities  Act,  1877,  and  the  committee  of  council  for  the  con- 
sideration of  charters  of  incorporation  under  tho  Municipal  Corpora- 
tions Act,  1882.  Caaes  affecting  tho  constitutional  rights  of  tho 
Channel  Islands  are  referred  to  a  committee  for  tho  affairs  of 
Jersey  and  Guernsey.  Tho  committees  report  to  tho  crown  in 
council,  and  their  report  is  adopted  and  enforced  by  an  order  in 
council,  publi.shed  in  tho  Oazettc.  Among  other  Acts  conferring 
administrativo  powers  upon  tho  privy  council  are  tho  Pharmacy 
Act,  1852,.  as  nmcnded  by  31  &-32  Vict.  c.  121,  the  Medical  Act, 
1853,  tho  Foreign  Enlistment  Act,  1870,  the  Destructive  Insects 
Act,  1877,  the  Contagioiis  I)isea.<ica  (Animals)  Act,  1878,  tho 
Dentists  Act,  1878,  the  Veterinary  Surgeons  Act,  1881. 

Jjidicial. — Up  to  1833  the  judicial  authority  of  the  privy 
council  was  exercised  by  judici.il  committees  appointed  from  timo 
to  tiilio  for  the  lic.iriiig  of  ajipcals  referred  to  ilnni  by  the  crown 


7e;i5 


P  R  1  — P  R  1 


in  council.  In  1833  the  judicial  committee  of  tlie  privy  council 
w<as  established  as  a  permanent  court  by  3  &  4  Will.  lY.  c.  41. 
Under  this  and  later  Acts  the  judicial  committee  now  consists  of 
the  lord  president,  the  lord  chancellor,  and  other  persons  who 
till  or  have  filled  liigh  judicial  offices  (all  unpaid),  of  two  retired 
.Indian  or  colonial  judges  who  receive  an  allowance  for  attending 
the  sittings  of  the  committee,  and  of  paid  member«,  now  two  in 
number,  appointed  under  34  &  35  Vict,  c;  ,91.  The  Appellate 
Jurisdiction  Act,  1S76,  provides  for  what  is  in  effect  the  union  of 
the  House  of  Lords  and  of  the  privy  council  in  their  judicial 
capacities  by  the  lords  of  appeal  in  ordinary  gradually  becoming 
judges  of  both  courts.  After  the  death  or  resignation  of  the  ptesent 
paid  members  these  two  high  judicial  bodies  will  be  practically 
combined,  and  a  near  approach  will  be  made  to  the  mediieval 
magnum  concilium  in  an  ultimate  court  of  appeal  from  the  whole 
of  the  British  dominions. 

In  proceedings  under  the  Church  Discipline  Act  archbishops  and 
bishops  who  are  members  of  the  privy  council  are  members  of  the 
judicial  committee,  3  &  4  Vict.  c.  86.  In  proceedings  mider  the 
Public  Worship  Act,  1874,  archbishops  and  bishops  attend  as 
assessors  according  to  rules  made  by  order  in  council,  39  &  40 
Vict.  c.  59,  §  14.  The  jurisdiction  of  the  judicial  committee  is 
either  original  or  appellate.  The  original  jurisdiction  is  the  less 
important,  and  consists  of  certain  powers  conferred  by  the  Copy- 
right, Patent,  Endowed  Schools,  and  other  Acts.  The  power  most 
frequently  exercised  is  that  of  extending  the  term  of  patents.  The 
appellate  jurisdiction  is  entirely  regulated  by  statute,  \nih  the 
exception  of  the  rarely  occurring  appeal  from  orders  made  by  the 
lord  chancellor  of  Great  Britain  or  of  Ireland  in  e.xercise  of  powers 
conferred  by  royal  sign  manual  for  the  custody  of  idiots  and 
lunatics.  Appeals  lie  from  the  Arches  Court  of  Canterbury,  from 
a  vice-admiralty  court  abroad,  and  from  tlie  Channel  Islands,  the 
Isle  of  Man,  India,  and  the  colonies.  Appeals  are  either  of  right 
or  by  leave.  Appeals  lie  as  of  right  when  the  value  of  the  matter 
at  issue  is  of  a  certain  amount  (the  amount  varying  according  to  the 
appeal  rules  of  the  different  foreign  possessions),  and  iii  a  few  other 
cases.  Appeals  lie  at  the  discretion  of  the  judicial  committee,  on 
leave  being  obtained  by  petition  for  special  leave  to  appeal.  The 
proceedings  in  all  cases  alike,  whether  original  or  appellate,  are 
by  petition  (see  Petition).  The  petition  is  addressed  to  the  crown 
in  council  in  the  first  instance. 

See,  in  addition  to  the  writers  on  constitutional  history.  Sir 
Harris  Nicolas,  Proceedings  and  Ordinances  of  the  Privy  Council  of 
Enghivd ,  Dicey,  The  Privy  Council;  Macpherson,  i'j'fic^ici;  of  the 
Judicial  Committee  of  the  Privy  Council.  (J.  Wt. ) 

PRIZE,  or  Prize  of  War,  denotes  the  ship  or  goods  of 
an  enemy,  or  in  transitu  to  an  enemy,  captured  at  sea. 
Goods  captured  on  land  are  not  prize,  but  booty  of  war. 
To  be  good  prize  the  capture  must  be  on  the  high  seas  or 
in  the  territorial  waters  of  one  of  the  belligerents,  and 
must  be  by  an  armed  vessel  duly  commissioned  by  the 
sovereign  of  the  captor.^  A  capture  made  in  neutral 
waters  is  a  violation  of  neutrality,  and  may  be  restored  at 
the  discretion  of  the  neutral  power.  Most  nations  have 
municipal  regulations  upon  the  subject.  Thus  prize  cap- 
tured in  breach  of  the  neutrality  of  Great  Britain  may  be 
restored  by  the  High  Court  of  Justice  (Admiralty  Division) 
under  the  powers  of  the  Foreign  Enlistment  Act,  1870, 
33  &  34  Vict.  c.  90,  §  14.  Capture  naay  be  actual  or 
constructive.  Constructive  or  joint  captors  are  those  who 
have  assisted  the  actual  captors  by  conveying  encourage- 
ment to  them  or  intimidation  to  the  .enemy.  All  public 
ships  of  war  within  signalling  distance  are  usually  held 
entitled  to  share  in  the  proceeds  of  the  cajiture.  This 
rule  is  incorporated  in  the  United  States  code  of  prize 
law,  the  Act  of  Congress  of  June  30,  1864.  It  is  not  all 
enemy's  property  that  is  good  prize.  The  conflicting . 
interests  of  neutrals  have  led  to  modifications  of  the 
general  belligerent'  right  of  seizing  enemy's  property 
wherevei  found,  a  right  which  had  become  established  as 
part  of  the  general  maritime  law  as  early  as  the  Consolato 
del  Mare  (see  vol.  vi.  p.'  317,  and  Sea  Laws).  By  the 
rules  laid  down  in  the  Consolato  neutral  vessels  or  neutral 
goods  were  to  be  restored  to  the  owners  without  com- 
pensation '  for  the  loss  of  time  and  other  inconveniences 
attending  capture.  This  may  be  said  to  have  been  the 
general  law  of'the  sea  down  to  1856.  At  the  same  time 
it  is  to  be  noticed  that  two  doctrines  inconsistent  with  the 


original  rule  had  met  with  the  sanction  of  certain  nationA 
viz.,  (1)  the  French  doctrine  of  hostile  infection,  by  which 
neutral  property  on  an  enemy's  ship  or  a  neutral  ship 
carrying  enemy's  property  was  good  prize ;  (2)  the  Dutch 
doctrine,  by  which  the  character  of  the  ship  alone  was 
regarded — free  ship  made  free  goods,  enemy  ship  enemy 
goods  (see  T^viss,  Law  of  Nation.':,  vol.  ii.  ch.  v.).  In 
1856  the  Declaration  of  Paris  adopted  an  intermediate 
system.  To  this  Declaration  most  nations  have  acceded 
(see  Privateer).  By  article  2  of  the  Declaration,  "  the 
neutral  flag  covers  enemy's  goods,  with  the  exception  of 
contraband  of  war."  By  article  3,  "  neutral  goods,  with 
the  exception  of  contraband  of  war,  are  not  liable  to 
capture  under  an  enemy's  flag."  Contraband  of  war, 
speaking  generally,  includes  all  articles,  such  as  provisions 
and  munitions  of  war,  likely  to  add  to  the  military  or 
naval  resources  of  the  enemy  (see  Contraband).  After 
the  capture  has  been  made,  the  next  proceeding  is  the 
determination  of  its  legality.  It  is  now  an  understood 
rule  of  international  law  that  the  question  of  prize  or  no 
prize  must  be  determined  by  a  qualified  prize  court  (see 
below).  Captors  should  send  their  capture  to  a  conveni- 
ent port,  if  possible  a  port  of  their  own  nation  or  an  allied 
power,  for  adjudication.  They  may  forfeit  their  rights 
by  misconduct  in  this  respect.  The  property  in  the  prize 
vests  in  the  sovereign,  in  accordance  with  the  old  maxim 
of  law  Parta  bello  cedunt  reipublica  This  right  attaches 
both  in  cases  of  capture  and  recapture,  subject  in  the 
latter  case  to  what  is  called  the  jus  /xistltmimi,  that  is,  the 
right  of  the  owner  of  property  recaptured  from  the  enemy 
to  have  it  returned — formerly  if  the  recapture  has  taken 
place  before  the  property  had  been  taken  within  the 
enemy's  territory  (infra  pi-xsidia),  at  present  if  less  than 
twenty-four  hours  has  elapsed  between  the  capture  and 
recapture.  The  right  of  the  recaptors  to  salvage  on  recap- 
ture is  regulated  by  the  municipal  law  of  different  nations. 
By  English  law  one-ejghth  of  the  value  is  the  sum  usually 
awarded,  but  this  may  be  increased  to  one-fourth  under 
special  circumstances.  The  right  does  not  exist  at  all  if 
the  vessel  has  been  fitted  out  as  a  vessel  of  war  by  the 
enemy,  27  &  28  Vict.  c.  25,  g  40.  One-eighth  is  awarded 
for  recapture  from  pirates,  13  <fe  14  Vict.  c.  26,  §  5.  In 
the  United  States,  by  the  Prize  Act  of  June  30,  1864, 
salvage  on  recapture  is  allowed  according  to  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case.  There  is  no  sum  fixed  as  in  England. 
Although  the  prize  vests  in  the  sovereign,  it  has  been  held 
in  England  that  the  captors  have  an  insurable  interest  in 
the  prize  immediately  after  capture  and  before  condemna- 
tion on  the  ground  that  under  the  Prize  Act  the  captors 
have  a  certain  expectation  of  profit  upon  the  aafe  arrival 
of  the  prize  in  port,  and  that  they  are  liable  to  condemna- 
tion in  damages  and  costs  if  the  capture  be  unjustifiable. 
By  the  general  maritime  law  a  prize  may  be  released  upon 
ransom ;  but  it  has  been  the-  general  policy  of  European 
nations  to  discountenance  ransom  as  less  beneficial  to  the 
state  thjin  the  detoution  of  a  prize.  Thus  an  Act  of 
1782,  and  subsequent  Acts,  avoided  ransom  bills  given  by 
British  subjects,  and  subjected  a  commander  giving  one  to 
an  enemy  to  penalties,  unless  in  either  case  the  circum- 
stances were  such  as  to  justify  the  giving  or  taking  of  the 
bill.  The  Naval  Prize  Act,  1864,  is  less  strict  in  its 
terms.  It  enacts  that  the  queen  in  council  may  from 
time  to  time  in  relation  to  any  war  make  such  orders  as 
are  expedient  as  to  contracts  for  the  ransoming  of  a  ship 
or  goods  ;  contravention  of  the  orders  makes  the  contract 
void  and  renders  the  offender  liable  to  a  penalty  not 
exceeding  £500,  27-  &  28  Vict.  c.  25,  §  45.  By  the 
Naval  Discipline  Act,  1866,  a  commanding  officer  making 
an  unlawful  agreement  for  ransom  is  liable  to  be  dismissed 
from   the  service,    29    &   30   Vict.    c.  109,   §  41.     The 


I'  n  I  z  E 


rui 


I'liilcil  States  have  never  proliibited  ransom  bills.  The 
rigiita  cf  the  sovereign  to  prize  may  be  waived,  as  was- 
formerly  done  bythe  crown  of  Great  Britain  in  the  case  of 
privateers  (see  Privateer). 

^^aDy  statutes  dealing  with  prize  have  been  enacted  at  different 
times  in  Knglaml.  The  firot  general  Prize  Act  was  6  Anne  c.  13. 
Tlio  .^ct  that  iio\7  regulates  prize  is  the  Naval  Prize  Act,  1864, 
alreaJy  refened  to.  Various  oflVnces  in  relation  to  prize  are  dealt 
with  by  the  Xaval  Prize  Act  and  the  Naval  Discipline  Act.  Such 
are  false  swearing  in  a  prize  cause  or  appeal,  taking  money,  &c., 
uut  of  a  ship  beloro  conaenination,  ill-using  persons  on  board  the 
prize,  &c.,  or  breaking  bulk  with  a  view  to  embezzlement.  Prize 
IS  subject  to  the  usual  customs  regulations.  The  United  States 
I'rize  Act  is  the  Act  of  Juno  30,  1864,  just  seven  days  later  in  date 
than  the  British  Prize  Act.  The  two  Acts  are  similar  in  character, 
but  the  United  States  Act  15  more  full  and  definite  than  the  British, 
.IS  it  deals  with  .lome  matters  \shicU  in  Great  Britain  -e  left  to 
the  discretion  of  the  executive. 

Prize  Court. — This  is  a  court  sitting  by  the  commission  of  the 
the  sovereign  of  the  captor  for  the  determination  of  prize  causes. 
.\  capture  docs  not  become  good  ^rize  until  condemnation  by  a 
prize  court.  As  a  general  rule  the  court  must  be  commissioned 
liy  the  sovereign,  must  sit  in  the  country  of  the  captor,  and  must 
be  in  possession  of  the  prize.  In  the  case  of  allied  powers,  it  is 
usually  agreed  (as  it  was  between  Great  Britain  and  France  in  1854) 
that  tlie  decision  shall  bo  made  by  a  court  of  the  country  to  which 
the  officer  in  command  belongs.  A  prize  court  may  sit  in  the 
territory  of  an  ally,  though  this  is  irregular  ;  but  it  is  a  violation  of » 
neutrality  to  constitute  a  prize  court  within  the  limits  of  a  neutral 
power.  A  prize  may,  however,  in  case  of  necessity  be  brought  into 
a  neutral  port  and  sold  there  under  the  decree  of  a  prize  court, 
subject  to  objection  on  the  part  of  the  neutral  Government.  The 
sentence  of  a  prize  court  is,  where  the  jurisdiction  is  well-founded, 
a  judgment  in  rem  and  entitled  t"o  universal  respept.  In  the 
British  dominions  the  prize  courts  are  such  courts  as  the  crown  or 
parliament  invests  with  authority  in  prize  matters.  In  pra<;tice 
these  are  the  Hi"h  Court  of  Justice  (Admiralty  Division)  and  the 
Vice-Admiralty  Courts  abroad.  Bythe  Naval  Prize  Act,  1864,  the 
High  Court  of  Admiralty  of  England  (now  represented  by  the 
Admiralty  Division)  has  jurisdiction  as  a  prize  court  throughout  the 
British  dominions.  It  is  to  be  noticed  that  this  jurisdictiofl  is 
entirely  derivative ;  the  court  has  no  original  prize  jurisdiction  as  it 
lias  original  instance  jurisdiction.  The  prize  jurisdiction  of  Scotch 
courts  was  vested  in  the  High  Court  of  Admiralty  of  England  by  6 
Ceo.  IV.  c.  120,  §  57.  In  the  United  States  (in  accordance  with 
Art.  III.  §.2  of  the  constitution,  "The  judicial  power  shall  extend 

to all  cases  of  admiralty  and  maritime  jurisdiction") 

the  prize  courts  are  the  district  courts,  the  State  courts  having 
no  jurisdiction.  The  procedure  of  a  prize  court  ia  simple  in  its 
character.  In  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States  standing  inter- 
rogatories are  administered  to  the  captors.  The  case  is  heard  upon 
the  depositions  of  the  witnesses  in  answer  to  the  interrogatories, 
and  upon  the  ship's  papers,  which  it  is  the  duty  of  the  captor  to 
forward  to  a  port  of  his  counti-y  for  deposit  in  the  conrt.  The  flag 
is  regarded  nsprima/acu)  evidence  of  the  nationality  of  a  captured 
vessel.  The  pleadings  are  not  technical.  A  libel  is  filed,  followed 
by  a  monition  to  parties  interested.  If  the  cause  be  not  prosecuted,, 
the  court  will  issue  a  monition  to  the  captors  to  proceed.  A  prize 
court  has  power  to  order  matters  incidental  to  the  cause,  such  as 
unlivery  and  appraisement  and  sale.  It  also  distributes  prize 
money  in  some  cases  (see  below).  The  procedure  of  prize  courts  in 
the  British  dominions  may  be  regulated  by  order  in  council  ilnder 
the  powers  of  the  Naval  I'rize  Act,  1864 ;  in  the  United  States  it 
depends  upon  the  Prize  Act  of  June  30,  1864.  An  appeal  lies  in 
England  from  tht  Admiralty  Division  to  the  Court  of  A[>pcal  and 
thence  to  the  House  of  Lords,  from  the  Vice-Admiralty  Coui-ts 
abroad  to  the  Judicial  Committee  of  the  Privy  Council.  In  the 
United  States  it  lies  to  the  supreme  court  where  the  matter  in 
dispute  exceeds  2000  dollars,  or  involves  a  tiuestion  of  general 
importanco.  In  addition  to  prize  proper,  prize  courts  have  had 
jurisdiction  in  some  analogous  matters  conferred  on  them  by 
statute.  Thus  a  prize'  court  iu  the  British  dominions  has  juris- 
diction over  (1)  cnomy'i  property  captured  in  a  conjunct  expedi- 
tion of  land  and  naval  forces,  2  &  3  Will.  IV.  c.  53,  §  SO,  or 
captured  on  land  by  a  naval  or  naval  and  military  force  acting 
cither  alone  or  with  allied  forces,  27  &  28  Vict.  c.  25,  §§  34,  35  ; 
(2)  petitions  of  right  where  the  subject-matter  of  a  petition  arises 
«ut  of  the  exercise  of  any  belligerent  right  by  the  crown,  or  would 
be  cognizable  in  a  prize  court  if  the  same  welo  a  matter  in  dispute 
between  private  peraoii.":,  §  62.  Questions  of  booty  of  war  may 
be  referred  to  the  Admiralty  Division  as  a  prize  court,  3  &  4  Viet 
c.  65,  §  22.  Tho  United  States  prize  courts  have  by  the  Act  of 
1354  jurisdiction  over  property  captured  in  an  insurrection.' 

'  For  tho  procedure  of  prlzo  coorts  see  Story,  On  Prize  Courts:  PhllHmorc, 
International  Law,  vol.  HI.  1 1.  xi. ;  Luithlngton,  Manual  of  Naval  friu  Law. 


Prhc  Jfonrij. — The  term  prize  money  is  used  in  a  wider  sense 
than  the  term  prize.  It  extends  to  any  lev.ard  granted  by  the  state 
for  the  capture  of  enemy's  property  whether  by  laud  or  ?ea.  (1) 
The  Act  consolidating  the  right  to  and  distribution  of  army  prize 
money  is  the  Army  Prize  Act,  1832,  2  &  3  Will  IV.  c.  53.  The 
right  and  interest  of  troops  to  prize  money  and  bounty  money  is  at 
the  discretion  of  the  crown,  and  is  to  be  distributed  in  such  propor- 
tions as  the  crown  may  direct.  It  is  to  be  noticed  that  capture  by 
troops  of  an  enemy's  sliip  in  a  road,  river,  haven,  or  creek  of  the 
enemy  gives  a  right  to  prize  money  in  this  sense,  though  it  is  not 
prize  proper,  not  having  been  captured  at  sea  by  an  armed  ship. 
Deserters  are  not  entitled  to  prize  money.  Shares  not  clfinied 
within  six  years  are  forfeited.  A  list  of  persons  entitled  is  trans- 
mitted to  Chelsea  Hospital,  the  treasurer  of  which  distributes  the 
money  either  to  such  persons  or  their  assignees,  or  to  the  regi- 
mental agent,  according  to  the  rules  laid  down  iu  the  Act.  Pnza 
money  may  be  assigned  subject  to  certain  conditions.  In  the  case 
of  officers  the  a.ssignment  must  express  the  consideration  money 
actually  paid  for  tha  assignment ;  iu  the  case  of  non-commissioned 
officers  or  seamen  the  assignment  is  only  valid  where  there  is  no 
regimental  agent.  In  conjunct  expeditions  of  land  and  naval  forces, 
the  share  of  the  land  forces  is  to  be  paid  to  the  treasurer  of  Chelsea 
HospitaL  By  27  &  28  Vict,  c  36,  §  3,  prize  money  not  exceeding 
£50  may  be  paid  without  probate  or  letters  of  administration.  By 
39  Vict.  c.  14,  the  accounts  are  to  be  laid  before  parliament.  Iu 
tho  United  States  provision  was  made  by  several  Acts  of  Congi-ess 
that  officers  and  soldiers  who  had  served  in  certain  wars  should  be 
entitled  to  warrants  for  bounty-lands  as  a  reward  for  their  services. 
(2)  For  the  right  to  prize  money  where  the  captor  at  sea  is  not  a  public 
ship  of  warj'see  Privateer.  Where  the  captor  is  a  public  ship  of 
war  of  Great  Britain,  the  officers  and  crew  have  only  such  interest 
in  the  proceeds  of  prize  as  the  crown  may  from  time  to  time  grant 
them.  This  interest  is  siibject  to  forfeiture  for  misconduct  in  rela- 
tion to  tho  prize,  27  &  28  Viet.  0.  25,  §§  36,  55.  In  the  United 
States,  by  the  Prize  Act  of  1864,  the  whole  proceeds  go  to  the  captoi 
where  tho  prize  is  of  superior  or  equal  force,  one-half  to  the  captor 
and  oije-half  to  the  United  States  where  the  prize  is  of  inferior  force. 
The  prize  money  accruing  to  the  United  States  forms  part  of  the 
fund  for  pensions!  Besides  a  share  of  the  prize,  prize  bounty  is 
generally  given.  By  the  Naval  Pn'ze  Act,  1864,  this  is  at  tho  iate 
of  ,£5  for  each  person  on  board  the  enemy's  ship,  if  a  ship  of  war, 
27  &  28  Vict  c.  25,  §  42.  By  the  United  States  Act  of  1864,  the 
rate  is  200  dollars  if  the  prize  is  of  superior  or  equal  force,  100  if  of 
inferior  force.  ,  Tho  distribution  of  prize  money  and  prize  bounty 
in  Great  Britain  is  regulated  by  the' Naval  Agency  and  Distribution 
Act,  1864,  27  &  28  A'ict.  c.  24.  '  Tho  money  is  distributed  under 
the  direction  of  the  lordi  of  the  Admiralty  in  the  proportions  speci- 
fied in  a  royal  proclamation  or  order  in  council.  The  proportions 
are  graduated  according  to  rank  (see  vol.  .wii.  p.  298).  Assign, 
ment  of  a  share  by  a  petty  officer  or  seaman  or  a  non-commissioned 
officer  of  marines  or  marine  is  void  unless  in  accordance  with  orders 
in  counciL  All  forfeited  and  unclaimed  shares,  and  a  percentage 
of  5  per  cent,  out  of  the  proceeds  and  grants,  are  carried  to  the 
account  of  the  naval  prize  cash  balance.  The  Admiralty  Division 
has  tho  sole  right  of  determining  disputes  as  to  distribution  or 
investment.  In  the  United  States  the  distribution  is  regulated  by 
the  Act  of  1864.^The  distribution  is  by  the  district  coUrt;  it  is  a 
judicial  act,  not,  as  in  Great  Britain,  the  act  of  a  Government 
department.  Tho  proportions  too  are  fixed  by  statute — not  left,  as 
in  Great  Britain,  to  the  discretion  of  the  executive.  The  command- 
ing officer  of  a  fleet  or  squadron  has  one-twentieth  allotted  to  him, 
of  a  division  onc-ftftieth,  a  fleet  captain  one-hundredth,  the  com- 
mander of  a  single  vc-isel  one-tenth  of  the  amount  awarded  to  the 
vessel;  the  residue  share  in  proportion  to  their  pay.  Prize  money 
is  paid  into  the  treasury  of  the  United  States  to  be  distributed 
according  to  the  decree  of  tho  court.  Ransom  money,  salvage, 
bounty,  and  proceeds  of  condemned  property  arc  distributable  as 
prize  money.  Assignnronts  of  prize  money  must  be  attested  by  tlio 
commanding  officer  and  tho  paymaster.  There  are  certain  easef 
where  money  is  granted  to  the  officers  and  crow  of  vessels  making 
captures  which  are  not  prize  in  tho  strict  sense  of  the  word.  Under 
this  head  may  be  classed  tho  salvage  on  recapture  already  men- 
tioned, besides  the  cases  provided  for  in  the  following  enactments. 
By  22  &  23  Car.  II.  c.  11,  §  10,  2  per  cent,  of  tho  value  of  tho  ship 
defended  may  be  awarded  to  those  wounded  and  the  representatives 
of  those  slain  in  tho  defence  of  a  merchant  ship  against  pirates. 
By  the  Customs  Act,  1876,  39  &  40  Vict.  c.  36,  §§  210-216,  rewards 
iijay  bo  granted  to  ofilcers  of  tho  cnstunis  out  of  tho  penalties  for 
goods  seized.  By  the  Slave  Trade  Act,  1873,  36  &  37  Vict.  c.  88, 
§§  11,  12,  a  Iwunty  of  £5  per  slave  or  of  £4  per  ton  is  payable  to 
the  officers  and  crow  of  one  of  Her  Majesty's  snips  upon  capture  of 
a  slave  ship.  Where  tho  capture  is  not  by  a  shiiiof  wa.-,  tho  bounty 
is  one-third  of  tho  value  of  tho  ship  seized,  and  a  bounty  of  £6  for 
each  slave.  By  an  Act  of  Congress  of  Mareh  3,  1819,  a  bounty  of 
25  dollars  is  given  for  each  slave  raptured,  and  the  proccodsof  con- 
demned slave  ships  are  divided  between  tho  United  States  and  the 
captors,  half  to  each.  (J.  Wt.) 


768 


PROBABILITY 


THE  matucmalical  theory  of  probability  is  a  science 
which  aims  at  reducing  to  calculation,  where  possible, 
tlie  amount  of  credence  due  to  propositions  or  statements, 
or  to  the  occurrence  of  events,  future  or  past,  more  especi- 
ally as  contingent  or  dependent  upon  other  propositions 
or  events  the  probability  of  which  is  known. 

Any  statement  or  (supposed)  fact  commands  a  certain 
amount  of  credence,  varying  from  zero,  which  means  con- 
viction of  its  falsity,  to  absolute  certainty,  denoted  by 
unity.  An  even  chance,,  or  the  probability  of  an  event 
which  is  as  likely  as.  not  to  happen,  is  represented  by  the 
fraction  |.  It  is  to  be  observed  that  ^  will  be  the 
probability  of  an  event  about  which  we  have  no  knowledge 
whatever,  because  if  we  can  see  that  it  is  more  likely  to 
happen  than  not,  or  less  likely  than  not,  we  must  be  in 
possession  of  some  information  respecting  it.  It  has  been 
proposed  to  form  a  sort  of  thermometrical  scale,  to  which 
£o  refer  the  strength  of  the  conviction  we  have  in  any 
given  case.  Thus  it  the  twenty-six  letters  of  the  alphabet 
have  been  shaken  together  in  a  bag,  and -one  letter  be 
drawn,  we  feel  a  very  feeble  expectation  that  A  has  been 
the  one  taken.  If  two  letters  be  drawn,  we  have  still 
very  little  confidence  that  A  is  one  of  them ;  if  three  be 
drawn,  it  is  somewhat  stronger ;  and  so  on,  till  at  last,  if 
twenty-sis  be  drawn,  we  are  certain  of  the  event,  that  is, 
of  A  having  been  taken. 

Probability,  which  necessarily  implies  uncertaint}',  is  a 
consequence  of  our  ignorance.  To  an  omniscient  Being 
there  can  be  none.  \Vliy,  for  instance,  if  we  throw  up  a 
shilling,  are  we  uncertain  whether  it  will  turn  up  head  or 
tail  ?  Because  the  shilling  passes,  in  the  interval,  through 
a  series  of  states  which  our  knowledge  is  unable  to  predict 
or  to  follow.  If  we  knew  the  exact  position  and  state  of 
motion  of  the  coin  'as  it  leaves  our  hand,  the  exact  value 
of  the  finarimpulse  it  receives,  the  laws  of  its  motion  as 
affected  by  the  resistance  of  the  air  and  gravity,  and 
finally  the  nature  of  the  ground  at  the  exact  spot  where  it 
falls,  and  the  laws  regulating  the  collision  between  the 
two  substances,  we  could  predict  as  certainly  the  result 
of  the  toss  as  we  can  which  letter  of  the  alphabet  will  be 
drawn  after  twenty-five  have  been  taken  and  examined. 

The  probability,  or  amount  of  conviction  accorded  to 
any  fact  or  statement,  is  thus  essentially  subjective,  and 
varies  with  the  degree  of  knowledge  of  the  mind  to  which 
the  fact  is  presented  (it  is  often  indeed  alsp  influenced  by 
passion  and  prejudice,  which  act  powerfully  in  warping 
the  judgment), — so  that,  as  Laplace  observes,  it  is  affected 
partly  by  our  .ignorance  partly  by  our  knowledge.  Thus, 
if  the  question  were  put.  Is  lead  heavier  than  silver? 
some  persons  would  think  it  is,  but  would  not  be  surprised 
if  they  were  wrong;  others  would  say  it  is  lighter;  while 
to  a  worker  in  metals  probability  would  be  superseded  by 
certainty.  Again,  to  take  Laplace's  illustration,  there  are 
three  urns  A,  B,  C,  one  of  which  contains  black  balls,  the 
other  two  white  balls  ;  a  ball  is  drawn  from  the  urn  C,  and 
we  want  to  know  the  probability  that  it  shall  be  black. 
If  we  do  not  know  which  of  the  urns  contains  the  black 
))a!ls,  there  is  only  one  favourable  chance  out  of  three,  and 
the  probability  is  said  to  be  i.  But  if  a  person  knows 
that  the  urn  A  contains  white  balls,  to  him  the  uncertainty 
is  confined  to  the  urns  B  and  C,  and  therefore  the  proba- 
bility of  the  same  event  is  J.  Finally  to  one  who  had 
found  that  A  and  B  both  contained  white  balls,  the 
probability  is  converted  into  certainty. 

In  common  language,  an  event  is  usually  said  to  be 
likely  or  probable  if  it  is  more  likely  to  happen  than  not. 


or  when,  in  mathematical  language,  its  probability  exceeds 
^ ;  and  it  is  said  to  be  improbable  or  unlikely  when  its 
probability  is  less  than  J.  Not  that  this  sense  I's  always 
adhered  to ;  for,  in  such  a  phrase  as  "  It  is  likely  to 
thunder  to-day,"  we  do  not  mean  that  is  more  likely  than 
not,  but  that  in  our  opinion  the  chance  of  thunder  is 
greater  than  usual ;  again,  "  Such  a  horse  is  likely  to  win 
the  Derby."  simply  means  that  he  has  the  best  chance, 
though  according  to  the  betting  that  chance  may  be  only 
^.  yuch  unsteady  and  elliptical  employment  of  words 
has  of  course  to  be  abandoned  and  replaced  by  strict 
definition,  at  least  mentally,  when  they  are  made  the 
subjects  of  mathematical  analysis.  Certainty,  or  absolute 
conviction,  also,  as  generally  understood,  is  different  from 
the  mathematical  sense  of  the  word  certainty.  It  is  very 
difficult  and  often  impossible,  as  is  pointed  out  in  the 
celebrated  Grammar  of  Assent,  to  draw  out  the  grounds 
on  which  the  human  mind  in  each  case  yields  that  con- 
viction, or  assent,  which,  according  to  Newman,  admits  of 
no  degrees,  and  either  is  entire  or  is  not  at  all.'  If,  when 
walking  on  the  beach,  we  find  the  letters  "  Constantinople," 
traced  on  the  sand,  we  should  feel,  not  a  strong  impression, 
but  absolute  certainty,  that  they  were  characters  not 
drawn  at  random,  but  by  one  acquainted  with  the  word 
so  spelt.  Again,  we  are  certain  of  our  own  death  as  a 
future  event;  we  are  certain,  too,  that  Great  Britain  is  an 
island ;  yet  in  all  such  cases  it  would  be  very  difficult, 
even  for  a  practised  intellect,  to  present  in  logical  form 
the  evidence,  which  nevertheless  has  compelled  the  mind 
in  each  instance  to  concede  the  point.  ^  Mathematical 
certamty,  which  means  that  the  contrary  proposition  is 
inconceivable,  is  thus  different,  though  not  perhaps  as 
regards  the  force  of  the  mental  conviction,  from  moral  or 
practical  certainty.  It  is  questionable  whether  the  former 
kind  of  certainty  is  not  entirely  hypothetical,  and  whether 
it  is  ever  attainable  in  any  of  the  affairs  or  events  of  the 
real  world  around  us.  The  truth  of  no  conclusion  can  rise 
above  that  of  the  premises,  of  no  theorem  above  that  of 
the  data.  That  two  and  two  make  four  is  an  incon- 
trovertible truth  ;  but  before  applying  even  it  to  a  concrete 
instance  we  have  to  be  assured  that  there  were  really 
two  in  each  constituent  group;  and  we  can  hardly  have 
mathematical  certainty  of  this,  as  the  strange  freaks  of 
memdry,  the  tricks  of  conjurors,  &c.,  have  often  mado 
apparent. 

There  is  no  more  remarkable  feature  in  the  mathematical 
theory  of  .probability  than  the  manner  in  which  it  has 
been  found  to  harmonize  with,  and  justify,  the  conclusions 
to  which  mankind  have  been  led,  not  by  reasoning,  but  by 
instfect  and  experience,  both  of  the  individual  and. of  the 
race.  •*  At  the  same  time  it  has  corrected,  extended,  and 
invested  them  with  a  definiteness  and  precision  of  which 
these  crude,  though  sound,  appreciations  of  common  sense 
were  till  then  devoid.  Even  in  cases  where  the  theoretical 
result  appears  to  differ  from  the  common-sense  view,  it 
often  'happens  that  the  latter  may,  though  perhaps 
unknown  to  the  mind  itself,  have  taken  account  of 
circumstances   in  the  case   omitted  in   the  .  data  of  the 


"  There  is  a  sort  of  leap  which  most  men  make  from  a  high  "pro- 
bability to  absolutp  assurance  .  .  .  analogous  to  the  sudden  consilience, 
or  springing  into  one,  of  the  two  images  seen  by  binocular  vision,  when 
gradually  brought  within  a  certain  proximity." — Sir  J.  Herschel,  in 
Jidin.  Review,  July  1850. 

2  Archbishop  Whately'a  jeu  d' esprit.  Historic  Doubts  respecting 
Napoleon  Bonaparte,  is  a  good  illustration  of  the  difficulties  there  v^&y 
be  in  proving  a  conclusion  the  certainty  of  which  is  absolute. 


PROBABILITY 


769 


I Viooretical  problem.  Thus,  it  may  bo  that  a  person  accords 
a  lower  degree  of  credence  to  a  fact  attested  by  two  or 
more  independent  witnesses  than  theory  warrants, — the 
reason  being  that  ho  has  unconsciously  recognized  the 
possibility  of  collusion,  which  had  not  bsen  presented 
among  the  data.  Again,  it  appears  from  the  jules  for  tlie 
credibility  of  testimony  that  the  probability  of  a  fact  may 
be  diminished  by  being  attested  by  a  new  witness,  viz.,  in 
the  case  where  his  credibility  is  less  than  i.  This  is 
certainly  at  variance  with  our  natural  impression,  which 
is  that  our  previous  conviction  of  any  fact/  is  clearly  not' 
weakened,  however  littlo  it  be  intensified,  by  any  fresh 
evidence,  however  suspicious,  as  to  its  truth.  But  on 
reflexion  we  see  that  it  is  a  practical  absurdity  to  supjjose 
the  credibility  of  any  witness  less  than  i — that  js,  tliat  he 
speaks  falseliood  oftener  than  truth — for  all  men  tell  the 
truth  probably  nine  times  out  of  ten,  and  only  deviate 
from  it  when  their  passions  or  interests  are  concerned. 
Even  where  his  interests  are  at  stake,  no  man  has  any 
preference  for  a  lie,  as  such,  alcove  the  truth ;  so  that  his 
testimony  to  a  fact  will  at  worst  leave  the  antecedent 
probability  exactly  what  it, was. 

.  A  celebrated  instance  of  the  confirmation  and  comple- 
tion by  theory  of  the  ordinary  view  is  afforded  by  what 
is  known  as  James  Bernoulli's  theorem.  If  we  know  the 
odds  in  favour  of  an  event  to  be  three  to  two,  as  for 
instance  that  of  drawing  a  white  ball  from  a  bag  contain- 
ing three  white  and  two  black,  we  should  certainly  .judge 
that  if  wo  make  five  trials  we  are  more  likely  to  draw 
white  three  times  and  black  twice  than  any  other 
combination.  Still,  however,  we  should  feel  that  this  was 
very  uncertain ;  instead  of  three  white,  we  might  draw 
white  0,  1,  2,  4,  or  5  times.  But  if  we  make  say  one 
ihousand  trials,  wo  should  feel  confident  that,  although 
the  numbers  of  white  and  black  might  not  be  in  the 
proportion  of  three  to  two,  they  would  be  very  nearly  in 
that  proportion.  And  the  more  the  trials  are  multiplied. 
the  more  closely  would  this  proportion  be  found  to  obtain. 
This  is  the  princi])lo  upon  which  wo  are  continually  judg- 
ing of  the  possibility  of  events  from  what  is  observed  in  a 
certain  number  of  cases.^  Thus  if,  out  of  ten  particular 
infants,  six  are  found  to  live  to  the  age  of  twenty,  we 
judge,  but  with  a  very  low  amount  of  conviction,  that 
nearly  six-tenths  of  the  whole  number  born  live  to  twenty. 
But  if,  out  of  1,000,000  cases,  we  find  that  600,000  live 
to  be  twenty,  we  should  feel  certain  that  the  same  projjor- 
tion  would  be  found  to  hold  almost  exactly  were  it  possible 
to  test  the  whole  number  of  cases,  say  in  England  during  the 
19th  century.  In  fact  we  may  say,  considering  how  seldom 
we  know  a  priori  the  probability  of  any  event,  that  the 
knowledge  we  have  of  such  probability  in  any  case  is  en- 
tirely derived  from  this  principle,  viz.,  that  the  proi)ortion 
which  holds  in  a  large  number  of  trials  will  be  found  to 
hold  in  the  total  number,  even  when  this  may  be  infinite, 
— the  deviation  or  error  being  less  and  less  as  the  trials  are 
multiplied. 

Such  no  doubt  is  the  verdict  of  the  common  sense  of 
manki;id,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  say  upon  what  considera- 
tions it  is  based,  if  it  be  not  the  effect  of  the  unconscious 
habit  which  all  men  acquire  of  weighing  chances  and 
probabilities,  in  the  state  of  ignorance  and  uncertainty 
which  human  life  is.  It  is  now  extremely  interesting  to 
see  the  results  of  the  unerring  methods  of  mathematical 
analysis  when  applied  to  the  same  problem.     It  is  a  very 

'  So  it  is  saiJ,  "tho  tree  is  known  by  its  fruits";  "  prnctice  is  bettor 
than  theory";  and  the  universal  sense  of  nianlcind  judges  that  the 
safest  test  of  any  new  invention,  system,  or  institution  is  to  see  how 
it  works.  So  little  are  we  able  by  a  priori  speculations  to  forecast 
tlie  thousand  obstacles  and  disturbing  influences  which  manifest  them- 
selves wlicn  any  new  cause  or  agent  is  introduced  as  a  factor  In  tho 
world's  nlfairs. 


difficult  one,  and  James  Bernoulli  tells  us  he  reflected 
upon  it  for  twenty  years.  His  methods,  extended  by  De 
Sloivre  and  Laplace,  fully  coi.irmthe  conclusions  of  rough 
common  sense ;  but  they  have  done  mifch  more.  They 
enable  us  to  estimate  exactly  how  far  we  can  rely  on  the 
proportion  of  cases  in  a  large  number  of  trials,  truly 
representing  the  proportion  out  of  the  total  number — that 
is,  the  real  i)robability  of  tho  event.  Thus  he  proves  that 
if,  as  in  the  case  above  mentioned,  the  real  probability  of 
an  event  is  %,  the  odds  are  1000  to  1  that,  in.25,550  trials, 
the  event  shall  occur  not  more  than  15,§41  times  and  not 
less  than  14,819  times, — that  is,  that  the  deviation  from 
15,330,  or  §  of  the  whole,  shall  not  exceed  -^^  ot  the 
whole  number  of  tria4s. 

The   history   of   the   theory   of  probability,  from   the 
celebrated   question   as  to  the  equitable  division  of   the 
stakes   between  two  players  on  their  game   being  inter- 
rupted, proposed  to  Pascal  by  the  Chevalier  de  Mdr6  in 
1654,  embracing,  as  it  does,  contributions  from  almost  all 
the  great  names  of  Em'ope  during  the  period,  down  to 
Laplace  and  Poisson,  is  elaborately -and  admirably  given 
by   Mr  Todhunter  in  his  Uiatory  of  the  subject,  now  a 
classical  work.     It  was  not  indeed  to  be  anticipated  that 
a  new  science  which  took  its  rise  in  games  of  chdnce,  and 
which   had   long   to   encounter   an   obloquy,   hardly  yet 
extinct,  due  to  the  prevailing  idea  that  its  only  end  was 
to  facilitate  and  encourage  the  calculations  of  gamblers, 
could  ever  have  attained  its  present  status — that  its  aid 
should   bo   called   for  in   every   department   of    natural 
science,  both  to  assist  in  discovery,  which  it  has  repeatedly 
done  (even  in  pure  mathematies),  to  minimize  the  unavoid- 
able errors,  of  observation,  and  to  detect  the  presence  of 
causes  as   revealed  by  observed  events.     Nor  are   com- 
mercial and  other  practical  interests  of .  life  less  indebted 
to  it :  ^  wherever  the  future  has  to  be  forecasted,  risk  to  be 
provided  against,  or  the  true  lessons  to  be  deduced  from 
statistics,    it    corrects   for   us   the   rough  conjectures   of 
common  sense,  and  decides  which  course  is  really,'  accord- 
ing to  the  lights  of  which  we  are  in  possession,  the  wisest 
for   us  to    pursue.     It   is  sui  generis   and  unique  as-  an 
application  of  mathematics,  the  only  one,  apparently,  lying 
quite  outside  the  field  of  physical  science.     Do  Moivre  has 
remarked  that,- "  some  of  the  problems  about  chance  having 
a  great  appearance  of  simplicity,  the  mind  is  easily  drawn 
into  a  belief  that  their  solution  ma}'  be  attained  by  the 
mere  strength  of  natural  good  sense"; >nd  it  is  with  sur- 
prise we  find  that  they  involve  in  many  cases  the  most 
subtle  and  difiScult  mathematical  questions.     It  has  been 
found  to  tax  to  the  utmost  the  resources  of  analysis  and 
tho  powers  of  invention  of  those  who  have  had  to  deal 
with  tho  new  cases  and  combinations  which  it  has  pre- 
sented.    Great,  however,  as  are  the  strictly  mathematical 
difTiculties,    they    cannot    bo   said   to   be   the   principal. 
Especially   in   the  jiractical   application.s,   to   detach  the 
problem  from  its  surroundings  in  rerztm  nutura,  discard- 
ing-what  is   none.s.senlial,  rightly  to  estimate  the  extent 
of  our  knowledge  respecting  it,  neither  tacitly  a.ssuming  03 
known  what  is  "not  known,  nor  tacitly  overlooking  some 
datum,  perhaps  from  its  very  obviousness,  to  make  sure 
that  events  wo  are  taking  as  independent  are  not  really 
connected,  or   probably  so, — such   are   the   preliminaries 
necessary  before  tho  question  is  put  in  the  scientific  form 
to  which  calculation  can  bo  a|)pliod,  and  failing  which  the 


'  Men  were  surprised  to  lienr  that  not  only  births,  deaths,  and  mar- 
riages, but  tho  decision!  of  tribunals,  the  results  of  popular  elections, 
tho  influence  of  punishments  in  checking  crime,  tho  comparative  values 
of  medical  remedies,  the  probable  limits  of  error  in  nunu'iicil  rcsulta 
in  every  dcp.irtment  of  phy-sical  inciuiry,  the  detection  of  cause,'', 
physical,  social,  and  moral,  nay,  even  tho  weight  of  evidence  and 
the  validity  of  logical  argument,  might  como  to  be  surveyed  with  the 
lynx-eyed  Bcrutuiy  of  n  dispassionate  analysis. — .''/>  J.  Ilcrschtl, 

XIX.    -  97 


no 


V  II  O  B  A  B  I  r.  I  1^  V 


result  of  the  mathematician  will  be  but  an  ignwatio  elenchi 
— a  correct  answer,  but  to  a  different  question. 

From  its  earliest  beginnings,  a  notable  feature  in  our 
subject  has  been  the  strange  and  insidious  manner"  in 
which  errors  creep  in — often  misleading  the  most  acute 
minds,  as  in  the  case  of  D'Alembert — and  the  difficulty 
of  detecting  them,  even  when  one  is  assured  of  their 
presence  by  the  evident  incorrectness  of  -the  result.  This 
is  probably  in  many  cases  occasioned  by  the  poverty  of 
language  obliging  us  to  use  one  term  in  the  same  context 
for  different  things — thus  introducing  the  fallacy  of 
ambiguous  middle ;  e.g.,  the  same  word  "  probability " 
referring  to  the  same  event  may  sometimes  mean  its  pro- 
bability before  a  certain  occurrence,  sometimes  after ;  thus 
the  chance  of  a  horse  winning  the  Derby  is  different  after 
the  Two  Thousand  from  what  it  was  before.  Again,  it 
may  mean  the  probability  of  the  event  according  to  one 
source  of  information,  as  distinguished  from  its  probability 
taking  everything  into  account ;  for  instance,  an  astro- 
nomer thinks  he  can  notice  in  a  newly-discovered  planet 
a  rotation  from  east  to  west ;  the  probabOity  that  this  is 
the  case  is  of  course  that  of  his  observations  in  like  cases 
turning  out  correct,  if  we  had  no  other  source  of  informa- 
tion ;  but  the  actual  probability  is  less,  because  we  know 
that  at  least  the  vast  majority  of  the  planets  and  satellites 
revolve  from  west  to  east.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  such 
employment  of  terms  in  the  same  context  must  prove  a 
fruitful  source  of  fallacies ;  and  yet,  without  wearisome 
repetitions,  it  cannot  always  be  avoided.  But,  apart  from 
niere  logical  errors,  the  main  stumbling-block  is  no  doubt 
the  uncertainty  as  to  the  limits  of  our  knowledge  in  each 
case,  or — though  thL«  may  seem  a  contradiction  in  terms — 
the  difficidty  of  knowing  w^hat  we  do  know ;  and  we 
certainly  err  as  often  in  forgetting  or  ignoring  what  we  do 
know,  as  in  assuming  what  we  do  not.  It  is  a  not 
uncommon  popular  delusion  to  suppose  that  if  a  coin  has 
turned  up  head,  say  five  times  running,  or  the  red  has  won 
five  times  at  roulette,  the  same  event  is  likely  to  occur  a 
sixth  time ;  and  it  arises  from  overlooking  (perhaps  from 
the  Imagination  being  struck  by  the  singularity  of  the 
occurrence)  the  a  priori  knowledge  we  possess,  that  the 
chance  at  any  trial  is  an  even  one  (supposing  aU  perfectly 
fair) ;  the  mind  thus  unconsciously  regards  the  event 
simply  as  one  that  has  recurred  five  times,  and  therefore 
judges,  correctly,  that  it  is  very  likely  to  occur  once  more. 
Thus  if  we  are  given  a  bag  containing  a  number  of  balls, 
and  we  proceed  to  draw  them  one  by  one,  and  the  first  five 
drawn  are  white,  the  odds  are  6  to  1  that  the  next  will  be 
white, — the  slight  information  afforded  by  the  five  trials 
being  thus  of  great  importance,  and  strongly  influencing 
the  probabilities  of  the  future,  when  it  is  all  we  have  to 
guide  us,  bujt  absolutely  valueless,  and  without  influence 
on  the  future,  when  we  have  a  priori  certain  information. 
The  lightest  air  will  move  a  ship  which  is  ndrift.  but  has 
simply  no  effect  on  one  securely  moored. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  results  arrived  at 
when  the  calculus  of  probabilities  is  applied  to  most 
practical  questions  are  anything  more  than  approxi- 
mations ;  but  the  same  may  be  said  of  almost  all  such 
applications  of  abstract  science.  Partly  from  ignorance 
of  the  real  state  of  the  case,  partly  from  the  extreme 
intricacy  of  the  calculations  requisite  if  all  the  conditions 
which  we  do  or  might  know  are  introduced,  we  are  obliged 
to  substitute  in  fact,  for  the  actual  problem,  a  simpler 
one  approximately  representing  it.  Thus,  in  mechanical 
questions,  assumptions  such  as  that  t'le  centre  of  gravity  of 
an  actual  sphere  is  at  its  centre,  that  the  friction  of  the  rails 
on  a  railway  is  constant  at  different  spots  or  at  different 
times,  or  that  in  the  rolling  of  a  heavy  body  no  depres- 
sion is  produced  by  its  weif;ht  in  the  supporting  substance. 


are  instances  of  the  convenient  fictions  which  simplify  the 
real  question,  while  they  prevent  us  accepting  the  result 
as  more  than  something  near  the  truth.  So  in  probability, 
the  chance  of  life  of  an  individual  is  taken  from  the 
general  tables  (unless  reasons  to  the  contrary  are  very 
palpable)  although,  if  his  past  history,  his  mode  of  life, 
the  longevity  of  his  family,  &c.,  were  duly  weighed,  the 
general  value  ought  to  be  modifijed  in  his  case  ;  again,  in 
attempting  to  estimate  the  value  of  the  verdict  of  a  jury, 
whether  unanimous  or  by  a  majority,  each  man  is  supposed 
to  give  his  honest  opinion, — feeling  and  prejudice,  or 
pressure  from  his  fellow-jurors,  being  left  out  of  the 
account.  Again,  the  value  of  an  e.rpectation  to  an  indi- 
vidual is  taken  to  be  measured  by  the  sum  divided  by  his 
present  fortune,  though  it  is  clearly  affected  by  other 
circumstances,  as  the  number  of  his  family,  the  nature  of 
his  business,  &c.  An  event  has  been  found  to  occur  on  an 
average  once  a  year  during  a  long  period  :  it  is  not  difficult 
to  show  that  the  chance  of  its  happening  in  a  particular 
year  is  1  -  €"\  or  2  to  1  nearly.  But,  on  examining  the 
record,  we  observe  it  has  never  failed  to  occur  during  three 
years  running.  This  fact  increases  the  above  chance  ;  but 
to  introduce  it  into  the  calculation  at  once  renders  the 
question  a  very  difficult  one.  Even  in  games  of  chance 
we  are  obliged  to  judge  of  the  relative  skill  of  two  players 
by  the  result  of  a  few  games  ;  now  one  may  not  have  been 
in  his  usual  health,  ic,  or  may  have  designedly  not  played 
his  best;  when  he  did  win  he  may  have  done  so  by 
superior  play,  or  rather  by  good  luck ;  again,  even  in  so 
simple  a  case  as  pitch  and  toss,  the  coin  may,  in  the  con- 
crete, not  be  quite  symmetrical,  and  the  odds  bi  head  or 
tail  not  quite  even. 

Not  much  has  been  added  to  our  subject  since  the  close 
of  Laplace's  career.  The  history  of  science  records  more 
than  one  parallel  to  this  abatement  of  activity.  When 
such  a  genius  has  departed,  the  field  of  his  labours  seems 
exhausted  for  the  time,  and  little  left  to  be  gleaned  by 
his  successors.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  so  little  remains 
to  us  of  the  inner  working  of  such  gifted  minds,  and  of 
the  clue  by  which  each  of  their  discoveries  was  reached. 
The  didactic  and  synthetic  form  in  which  these  are  pre- 
sented to  the  world  retains  but  faint  traces  of  the  skilful 
inductions,  the  keen  and  delicate  perception  of  fitness  and 
analogy,  and  the  power  of  imagination — though  such  a 
term  may  possibly  excite  a  smile  when  applied  to  such 
dr!/  subjects — which  have  doubtless  guided  such  a  master 
as  Laplace  or  Newton  in  shaping  out  each  great  design — 
only  the  minor  details  of  which  have  remained  over,  to  be 
supplied  by  the  less  cunning  hand  of  commentator  and 
disciple. 

We  proceed  to  enumerate  the  principal  divisions  of  the 
theory  of  probability  and  its  ajiplications.  Under  each 
we  will  endeavour  to  give  at  least  one  or  two  of  the  more 
remarkable  and  suggestive  questions  which  belong  to  it, — 
especially  such  as  admit  of  simplification  or  improvement 
in  the  received  solutions;  in -such  an  article  as  the  pre- 
sent we  are  debarred  from  attempting  even  an  outline 
of  the  whole.  We  will  suppose  the  general  fundamental 
principles  to  be  already  known  to  the  reader,  as  they 
are  to  be  now  found  in  several  elementary  works,  such 
as  Todhunter's  Algebra,  Whitworth's  Choice  and  Chance, 
&,c. 

Many  of  the  most  important  results  are  given  under  the 
apparently  trifling  form  of  the  chances  in  drawing  balls 
from  an  urn,  kc,  or  seem  to  relate  to  games  of  chance,  as 
dice  or  cards,  but  are  in  reality  of  far  wider  application, — 
this  form  being  adopted  as  the  most  definite  and  lucid 
manner  of  presenting  the  chances  of  events  occurring  undctj 
circumstances  which  may  be  assimilated,  more  or  lesa 
closely,  to  such  cases. 


r  Pt  O  B  A  B  I  L  1  T  Y 


771 


J.  Detkhmination  of  rrii:  ri;c)PAr.iM7'f;?  or  Comi-ol-nd  Evexts, 
wiii:n  the  I'rioBAnii.rriKs  of  la'i  Slmtle  Events  on  vviiicu 

THEY  Dlcri'.sn  AKB  KNOWN'. 

1.  Umlcr  tliis  linaii  cotne  a  vivy  Uiv;o  ami  diversilioil  ranjjo  of 
i|iioslioiis  ;  a  very  few  of  tlie  most  iiMportaiit  are  all  tliat  wo  ran 
;;ive.  Olio  great  class  ivlatcs  to  tlio  fiillilmeiit  of  given  conditions 
ill  roiicateil  trials  as  to  tlic  same,  event,  knowing  tlic  [uobability  of 
wlial  will  Iinpjicn  in  eaeli  trial. 

2.  Let  tliere  he  an  event  wliicli  must  turn  out  in  one  of  two 
ways,  W  anil  l^^is  in  ilrawing  a  bail  from  an  urn  containing  white 
ami  black  balls  only) ;  let  tlie  respective  probabilities  for  eaeli  trial 
be;>,7;  so  tliat;j  +  7  =  l.  Let  two  trials  be  made  :.  the  four  possible 
cases  ttiiicli  may  arise  ara  ' 

AVW,  AVB,  BW,  BB. 
TIio  probability  of  tlie  first  is  p-,  of  the  second  pj,  of  the  third 
I'j,  of  the  fourtli  {-.'    Thus  the  probability  of  a  white  and  a  black 
liall  being  drawn  in  an  nsiitjiicd  order  is  j>q  ;  but  that  of  a  white 
:iiid  a  black  in  any  order  is  2]>q. 

Suppose  now  n  trials  to  be  made.  The  probability  of  AV  every 
tiiiio  is  ;;■';  that  of  1!  once  and  W()i-1)  times  in  an  assigned 
order  is  p"'^q,  but  if  tbo  order  is  indifferent  it  is  np'-^q;  that 
tif  n  occurring   twice  only  is  p"--i/'-  if  the  order  is  given. 


.1(^.-1) 


p''--q-   in  any  order;   and  so  on.      We  have  then 


but 
this 


result : — in  the  binomial  expansion 


n()t -!)(»- 2) 


n(n~l) 


2J"--q--i- 


|3 


-j}''-''q' 


(1), 


tho  terms  in  their  order  give  the  probabilities  of  the  event  W 
happening  n  times;  of  W  (w-l)  times  and  B  once;  of  W(»-2) 
times  and  B  twice ;  and  so  ou, — the  sum  of  the  whole  giving  1,  that 
is,  certainty. 

3.  As  an"  example,  let  A  and  B  he  two  players  whose  respective 
chances  of  winning  one  game  are.;)  and  q  ;  to  find  the  probability 
of  A  Hii'ming  m  games  before  B  wins  n  games,  the  play  terminat- 
ing when  cither  of  these  events  has  occurred. 

The  chance  of  A  winning  the  first  m  games  is  p^.  The  chance 
of  his  winning  in  tho  first  »)H-1  games  is  mp"'-^q  .p-=mp™q;  for 
ho  must  have  won  711- 1  games  out- of  the  first  m,  and  then  win 
the  (m  +  l)th;  otherwise  we  should  be  including  the  first  case. 
A;;ain,  the  cliance  of  A  winning  in  tho  first  mi +  2  games  is,  in  like 

manner,  ^ — ^-^/'      SJ'™ — k-^P  Ti  1""  so  on.     Now  the 

match  must  be  decided  at  latest  by  the  (w +  )i-l)th  game ;  for, 
if  A  fails  to  win  vt  games  by  that  time,   B  must  have  won  n. 


Hence  the  chance  of  A  winning  tho  match  is 


))'"\1  +  mq  + 


m(m  +  V) 


J'  + 


«i(m  +  l) 


(m  +  m-2) 


|)t-l 


...}. 


four  games  before  B  wins  two  is  ^— ;•     That  of  B  winning  is  - 


Thus,  if  A's  skill  be  double  that  0'  B,  the  chance  that  A  wins 
112      „,    ,  „„_  .     .      .    m 
243  ■ 

If  A  and  B  agree  to  leave  ofT  playing  before  tho  match  is  decided, 
the  stakes  ought  clearly  to  bo  divided  between  tliem  in  proportion 
to  theirrespectiveprobabilitiesof  winning,  as  given  above, — putting 
for  in  and  n  tho  numbers  of  games  recjuirod  to  bo  won,  at^any  given 
point  of  tho  match,  by  A  and  B  reflectively. 

This  was  one  of  the  q'i':stions  proposed  to  Pascal-by  the  Chevalier 
do  Mere  in  the  year  1051. 

4.  In  the  expansion  (1)  it  may  bo  asked  which  combination  of 
tho  events  W,  B  is  most  likely  to  occur  in  the  n  trials.     As  the 

ratio  of  the  2d  term  to  tho  1st  is  m  ?,  of  the  3d  to  the  2d  ^^  -  , 

p  2     p' 

and'  of  the  (r  +  l)th  to  tho  rth'^  ""''"*"    ^,  so  long  as  this  ratio 

continues  to  increase  the  terras  will  increase.      The  condition, 
thereforoy  for  the  rth  term  to  be  tho  greatest  is 

■  <-;  or  )•>  in-^Wa; 

r  q 

that  is,  r  is  tho  next  integer  ahovo  (n  +  1)7. 

We  conclude  that  if  r  is  tho  next  integer  below  {n  +  \)q  tho 
iV-l-ljth  term  is  the  greatest— that  i.s,  it  is  most  likely  that  tho  event 
\V  occurs n-r  times  and  B  r  times.  If  (n  +  l)j should  bean  integer 
(/■),  B  is  as  likely  to  occur  r  as  r  +  1  times;  and  either  is  nioro 
jirobablo  than  any  other  number.  Thus,  in  twelve  throws  of  a  die, 
the  ace  is  more  likely  to  turn  up  twice  than  any  ollu  r  number; 
while  in  eleven  throws  it  is  as  likely  to  turn  up  once  only  as  twice. 

It  is  impoitant  to  remark  that,  if  tho  number  of  trials  n  be  very 
largo,  wo  may  treat  qn  and;w  as  whole  numbers,  and  conclude  that 
tlio  event  W  is  more  likely  to  hapncn  rm  times  and  B  qn  times 
than  in  any  other  proportion. 

6.-  Among  tho  many  questions  which  relate  to  the  occurrence  of 


dilfercnt  combinations  in  successive  trials  as  to  the  same  event,  ono 
is  as  to  tho  chances  for  a  succession,  or  run,  of  tho  same  result 
several  times. 

Let  us  consider  the  very  simple  case— In  n  throws-  of  a  coin, 
what  is  the  chance  that  head  occurs  (at  least)  twice  running? 

This  will  be  an  instance  of  the  aid  afibicled  by  the  calculus  of 
finite  dillercnccs  in  questions  on  probability.  Let  !(r  =  the  number 
of  cases  of  r  thiows  of  a  coin  in  whicli  head  turns  up  twice  runniug, 
the  whole  number  of  cases  being  of  course  2'.  Now  if  we  consider 
the  value  of  !(n+3,  it  includes  2i(„+5,  because  the  (Ji  +  3)tli  throw 
may  turn  up  two  ways  ;  but  it  includes  also  those  cases  when  lu-ad 
turns  up  in  the  last  two  throws,  tail  in  the  preceding  one,  and  no 
run  of  two  hc-ads  occurs  iii  the  n  preceding  ones.  The  number  of 
these  cases  is  2"  -  u,,.     We  have  therefore  the  equation 

!£„+3  =  2l(„+o-|-2"-K„ (2). 

If  E  bo  an  operator  such  that  V.Ur  =  Ur+\ ',  equation  (2)  is 
(E»-2E^  +  1)J(„  =  2»; 
or,  (E-l)(E^-E-l)!i„  =  2"; 

so  that,  if  we  put  a,  6  for  the  roots  of  the  equation  E-  -  E  - 1  =  (), 

«„  =  2"  +  A  +  Ba"  +  Ce" (3) 

since  J«„  =  2"  is  a  particular  solution  of  (2). — A,  B,  C  being  three 
undetermined  constants. 

Now  in  two  throws  there  is  ono  case  where  head  turns  up  twice, 
and  in  three  throws  there  are  three  cases  ;  hence  wo  liave 

«j  =  0  =  2  +  A  +  Bo  +  C3 

*  J(3  =  3  =  8  +  A  +  Ba'  +  C;83; 

;3  +  l,  we  shall  easily  find 


and,  rcmemberiDg  that  a-=.a  +  l,  /3- 
from  these 


O.B  =  ,^ 

-  c= 

a 

-a-0' 

«,  =  2"- 

a"+2- 
a- 

^1  +  V5 

f^J- 

-V5. 

Mi 


so  thatl 


Now  -         2      ' --      2      ' 

expanding  by  the  binomial  theorem  and  reducing, 

„.     n  +  2  (       ()i  +  l)re,     ()H-l)ii(ii-l)(«-'2) 
,«-  =  2»-2;^|l^— g-o  +  - 2 

dividing  by  the  total  number  of  cases  2",  we  liave  for  the  proba- 
bility of  head  turning  up  at  least  twice  running  in  n  throw.s 


5=-^. 


.  (£); 


Pn'^l 


i  +  2  (, 


1  +  ("  +  ^)"'g  +  ("  +  1)»(''- 


l)(»-2) 


'5=+. 


(6). 


3      -  ■  |5  -    .   •  -  -^ 

Another  method  of  obtaining  the  same  result  is  to  consider  iho 
number  of  cases  in  which  head  never  occurs  twice  running ;  let 
Vn  bo  this  number,  then  2"  -  u,  must  be  the  number  of  cases  when 
head  occurs  at  least  twice  successively..  Consider  the  value  of 
u„+^;  if  the  last  or  (;!  +  2)th  throw  be  tail,  n„+^  includes  all  tho  - 
cases  (»n+i)  of  the  n  +  1  preceding  throws  which  gave  no  succession 
of  heads  ;  and  if  the  last  be  head  the  last  but  one  must  be  tail,  and 
these  two  may  be  preceded  by  any  ono  of  tho  «„  favourable  cases 
for  the  first  n  throws.     Consequently 

If  a,  j9,  as  before,  are  the  roots  of  the  quadratic  E'-  E-1  =  0,  tliis 
C(iuatiou  gives 

«„=Aa"  +  B8"' 

Hero  A  and  B  aro  easily  found  from  tho  conditions  «j  =  V!i  "3  =  8  : 
viz., 

1  V  »l  +  a<         (71  +  1)71.      ,       •) 

wheucB  K„ - ^  jl  +  ^p^r^-  5  -f- &c.  I 

as  in  cq.  (5).     The  probability  that  head  never  turns  np  twice 

running  is  found  by  itividing  this  by  2",  tho  whole  number  of  ca.sos. 

This   probability  of  course   becomes  smaller  and   smaller  as  tho 

number  of  trials  (»)  is  increased. 

6.  Let  us  consider  the  chance  of  a  rup  of  three  headii  or  tails 

during  n   throws, — that   of  a   run   of  two   neads  or  tails   being 

2"  —  2  1 

evidently  — —    —  1  -  - — r  ,  as  there  aro  but  two  cases  out  of  tho 

2"  which  are  alternately  head  and  tail. 

Let  Vr  be  tho  numlior  of  ca?c3,  during  r  throws,  which  give  at 
least  ono  succession  of  three  heads  or  thieo  tails.  Consider  the  voliio 
of  M„+3 ;  it  includes  2i(„+,,  as  tho  last  throw  may  bo  liead  or  tail  ; 
but,  besides  these,  every  case  of  tlio  first  n  throws  which  contains 
no  run  oftllree  gives  rise  to  one  new  case  of  tho»-^3havi^ga  run  of 
three  ;  thus,  if  the  7ith  throw  be  lioad,  the  last  four  muj  bo  IITTT, 
or  TIIUH  if  the  nth  bo  fail.     Hence 

«,+3-2H„+J  +  2''-1t,, 


772 


PROBABILITY 


the  same  equation  of  dinerences  as  (2)  Us  solution  is  cq\iation  (3), 
in  wliicli,  if  we  determine  tlie  constants  by  tile  conditions  Mi  —  O, 
«o  =  0,  «3'=2,  and  divide  by  2",  we  find  for  tlie  probability  of  a  run 
of  tliree  of  citlier  event  during  n  trials 


2»  2='-'|^  + 


iiin- 


1),     n{n-l)(7i 
— 0  H 


-2)(«-3) 


|5 


'5'  +  .. 


7). 


Comparing  this  result  with  (6)  we  find  that  the  chance  of  a  run  of 
two  heads  ill  n  trials  is  equal  to  the  chance  of  a  run  of  three,  of 
either  hca'h  or  tails,  in  n  + 1  trials. 

7.  If  an  event  may  turn  out  on  each  trial  in  a  +  6  ways,  of  which 
a  are  favourable  and  b  unfavourable  (tlius  a  card  may  be  drawn 
from  a  pack  in  fifty-two  ways,  twelve  of  wliich  give  court  cards),  and 
if  we  consider  the  probability  that  during  n  trials  there  shall  occur 
n  run  of  at  least  p  favourable  results,  it-is  not  difEcuIt  to  sec  that 
{Ur  denoting  the  number  of  ways  this  may  occur  in  r  trials) 

v.+p+i  =  (a  +  i)i(»+,  +  ha'  { (n  +  ft)"  -  m„}  , 

as  Un+p+i  includes,  besides  {a  +  b)u„+p,  those  cases  in  which  the 
histjD  trials  are  favourable,  tlie  one  before  unfavourable,  and  the  n 
preceding  containing  no  such  run  as  stilted. 

We  will  not  enter  on  Laplace's  solution  of  this  equation,  or 
rather  of  one  equivalent  to  it,  especially  as  the  result  is  not  a 
simple  one  (see  Todliuntor,  p.  185). 

8.  Let  the  probaliility  of  an  evcpt  happening  in  one  trial  be  p, 
that  of  its  failing  g  ;  we  have  seen  (art.  4)  that,  if  a  large  number  N 
of  trials  be  made,  the  event  is  most  likely  to  happen  ;^N  times  and 
fail  gN  times-.  The  chance  of  this  occurring  is,  however,  extremely 
small,  though  greater  than  that  in  favour  of  any  other  proportion. 
We  propose  now  to  examine  the  probability  that  the  proportion  of 
sruccesses  shall -not  deviate  from  its  most  probable  value  by  more 
than  a  given  limit— that  is,  in  fact,  to  find  the  probability  thai  in 
N  tiials  the  number  of  times  in  which  the  event  happens  shall  lie 
between  the  /wo  limits  pN±r. 

Let  m=;)N,  7i  =  yN,  which  are  taken  to  be  integers.  The  proba- 
bility of  the  event  happening  m  times  is  the  greatest  term  T  of  the 
expansion  (1),  viz., 

|N 

\m  \n 

The  calculation  of  this  would  be  impracticable  when  N,  m,  n  are 
large  numbers,  but  Stirling's  theorem  gives  us 


1.2.  3  .   . 

very  nearly,  when  x  is  large 


x=x'+ie-'\/2K, 

and  by'substituting  in  the  preceding 
value  of  T,  and  reducing,  we  easily  find 

1 


T=- 

\/2irpq'S 

Now  the  terms  of  the  expansion  (1)  on  either  side  of  T  are 
n(n-l)      p'-^.     n     P^. ,  _ ,  _m_  ?- .     m(m-l)     £ 

But  if  a  is  much  greater  than  a. 

a 

X-  a  =  xc'x  nearly,  - 
80  that 

n{n  -  l.){n~-  2)  .  .  .  (s  terms)  =  n'e '„  — —  =  n'c~  - 

also  (m  +  l){m  +  2)  . 

Hence  the  sth  term  before  T  in  (9)  is 


(8). 


(9). 


(s  terms)  =  7n't    .^„, 


»T. 


The  sth  term  after  T  is 


~2ma~ 


m—n 


Now  the  probability  that  the  event  shall  happen  a  number  of  times 
comprised  between  m  +  r  and  m-r  is  the  sum  of  the  terms  in  (9) 
from  the  rth  term  before  T  to  the  rth  term  after  T.  (N.B.,  though  r 
may  be  large,  it  is  supposed  small  as  compared  with  N,  m,  or  n. ) 

Now  tjie  sth  term  before  T-h  the  sth    term  after  T  =  2e--^,T, 


since  c    +c 


=  2,  when  x  =  - s  is  small. 

2»m 


Taking  then  each 


term  before  T  with  the  correspondiag  term  after  T,  and  putting 
for  shortness 


._■_    N  _    1 
2mn    2pqTS 
we  have  for  the  required  probability 


(10). 


Pr 


2(iT-hT<;-°'-fT6-2''''4-Te-='''> Tc"''*')- 


If  we  now  consider  the  curve  whose  equation  is 
y-Te- 


and  take -a  series  of  its  ordijiatcs  correspoi.ding  to  ar  =  0,  o,  2o, 
3a  ....  ra,  where  a  is  very  small,  and  if  A  be  its  area  froii. 
x  =  0  to  x  =  ra,  then 

—  =  J(&i'st-flast  ordinates)  -fsum  of  intermediate  ordinatcs 
a 

2 
,  V^V  =  -A  -Hlast  ordin.ate, 

a 


2_ 


dx-\-- 


(11). 


\J2pq'Sir 

9.  AVe  refer  to  the  integral  calculus  for  the  methods  of  com- 
puting the  celebrated  integral  J'e'^^dx,  and  will  give  here  a  short 
table  of  its  values. 


Table  of  the  Values  of  the  Integral  1  = 


V' 


-A 


"dz. 


7 

1 

T 

•2 

I 

■22270 

r 

I 

T 

1      ■) 

O'OO 

0-00000 

1-3 

■93401 

2^4 

•99931 

■01 

•01128 

•3 

•32863 

1    1^4 

•95229 

2-5 

■99959 

■02 

.   -02256 

.•4 

•42839 

1^5 

•96C11 

2-6 

■99976 

•03 

•03384 

•5 

•52050 

16 

•97635 

2-7 

■99986 

■04 

•04511 

•6 

•60386 

r7 

•98379 

2-8 

■99992 

■05 

•05637 

•7 

•67780 

IS 

•98909 

2  9 

■99996 

■06 

•06762 

•8 

•74210 

1-9 

•99279 

3^0 

■99998 

■07 

•07886 

•9 

•79691 

20 

•99532 

00 

1^00000 

•08 

•09008 

1  1-0 

•84270 

.   2^1 

•99702 

■> 

■09 

•10128 

^U 

•8S020 

2  2 

•99814 

■1 

•11246 

•91031 

1    2^3 

•99886 

i 

If  the  value  of  I  is  0-5,  or  J,  t=  •4769. 

10.  The  second  term  in  formula  (11)  expresses  the  probability 
that  the  number  of  occurrences  of  the  event  shiU  be  exactly 
m -I- r  or  m-r,  or  more  correctly  the  mean  of  these  two  pro- 
babilities. It  may  be  neglected  when  the  number  of  trials  N  is 
very  great  and  the  deviation  r  not  a  very  small  number. 

We  see  from  the  foregoing  table  that  when 

/a  =  —  =3 

V2p?N 

It  becomes  practically  a  certainty  that  the  number  of  occurrences 
will  fall  between  the  limits  m-i^r. 
Thus,  suppose  a  shilling  is  tossed  200  times  in  succession;  here 

»  =  o,=  land  o=^==  =  r-;r.     If  therefore  )•=  30,  it  may  be  called 

V'2p?N     10  ■' 

a. certainty  that  head  will  turn  up  more  than  70  and  less  than  130 
times. 

In  the  same  case  suppose  we  wish  to  find  thc'limits  m-i:.r  such 
that  it  is  an  even  chance  that  the  number  of  heads  shall  fall 
between  them,  if  the  second  term  of  (11)  he  neglected,  we  see 
from  the  table  that 

ra  =  YQr=^48,.-.r  =  4-8; 

so  that  the  probability  that  the  number  of  heads  shall  fall  between 
95  and  105  is 

P*='^2+io7i<=""*='""'"'5'' 

rather  more  than  an  even  chance.  • 

11.  Neglecting  the  second  term  of  (11),  we  see  that  pr  depends 

r 
solely  on  the  value  of  ra,  or  that  of  — tj^  ;  so  that,  if  the  nnmber  of 

trials  N  be  increased,  the  value  of  r^^o  give  the  same  probability 
increases  as  the  square  root  of  N;  thus,  if  in  N  trials  it  is  practically 
certain  (when  ra=3)  that  the  number  of  occurrences  lies  betweoi 
/iNir,  then,  if  the  number  of  trials  be  doubled,  it  will  be  certrii. 
that  the  occurrences  will  lie  between  2j;N±r\/2. 

In  all  cases,  if  N  be  given,  r  can  be  determined,  so  that  there  -.- 
a  probability  amounting  to  certainty  that  the  raiio  of  the  number  <:' 
occurrences  to  (he  whole  number  of  cases  shall  lie  between  the  limit* 


.?'± 


N 


Now  if  N  be  increased  rx  n/N  ;  so  that  these  limits  are 

C  being  a  constant.  Hence  it  is  always  possible  to  increase  the 
number  of  trials  till  it  becomes  a  certainty  ilm-t  the  proportion  of 
occurrences  of  the  event  will  differ  from  p,  its  probability  on  a  single 
trial,  bya  quantity  less  than  any  assignable.  This  is  the  celebrated 
theorem  given  by  James  Bernoulli  in  the  Ara  Conjeclandi.  ..  (See 
Todhunter's  Uislory,  p.  71.) 


r  K  O  B  A  B  I  L  I  T  Y 


73 


12.  AVo  will  i;ivo  hero  a  grnpliioal  rcprcsciit.ition  {f\g.  1),  tnkcii 
from  M.  Quetclot's  Lctlres  siir  la  I'/ieoric  tics  ProbabiUtis,  of  the 
facilities  of  the  dilferciit  immbois  of  siuccsses  wliich  may  occur  in 
1000  trials  as  to  any  event  which  is  equally  likely  to  lianjion  as  not 
in  each  trial, —as  in  1000  tosses  of  a  coin,  or  1000  ilrawinjs  from 
an  urn  containing  one  white  anil  one  black  ball,  replacing  tlie  ball 
each  time, — or  again  in  drawing  1000  balls  togetlicr  from  an  urn 
containing  a  great  number  of  black  afd  wliitc  in  crj\ial  proportion. 

A3;)  =  (/  =  .J,  we  find  from  formula  (8)  that  the  chance  of  exactly 
half  the  entire  number  drawn,  viz.,  500,  being  white  is 

T=—L==  02523; 
VSOOir 

and  the  chance  for  any  number  500±s  is  found  by  multiplying 

T  by  c   500. 

If  then  we  take  the  central  ordinate  to  represent  T  on  any 
scale,  and  arrange  along  the  horizontal  line  AB  the  diirerent  num- 
bers of  white  balls  which  may  occur,  and  erect  opposite  each 
number  an  ordinate  representing  the  ]iroliability  of  tliat  number, 
wo  have  a  gmphical  diagram  of  the  relative  possibilities  of  all 
|K)ssible  proportions  of  black  and  white  in  the  result. 

We  see  from  it  that  all  values  of  the  number  of  white  balls 
drawn  less  than  450,  or  greater  than  550,  may  be  considered 
impossible,  the  probabilities  for  them  being  excessively  small. 


Arfill 


MO 


Fig.  1. 
The  probability  of  the  number  of  white  balls  falling  between 
any  two  assigned  limits,  as  490  and  520,  is  found  by  measuring 
the  area  of  the  figure  comprised  between  the  two  ordinates  opposite 
those  numbers,  and  dividing  the  result  by  the  total  area. 

II.  Pbobabilitvop  FuTiTiiE  EvENT.'i  Deduced  from  Experience. 

13.  In  our  ignorance  of  the  causeswhich  influence  future  events,  tlio 
ca.ses  are  rare  in  which  wo  know  a  priori  the  chance,  or  "facility," 
of  the  occurrence  of  any  given  event,  as  we  do,  for  instance,  tlmt 
of  a  coin  turning  up  head  when  tossed.  In  other  cases  we  have  to 
judge  of  the  chances  of  it  happening  from  experience  alone.  We 
could  not  say  what  is  tlie  chance  that  snow  will  fall  in  the  month 
of  March  next  from  our  knowledge  of  meteorology,  but  have  to  go 
back  to  the  recorded  facts.  In  walking  down  a  certain  street  at 
5  o'clock  on  three  dillcront  days,  I  have  twice  met  a  certain 
individual,  and  wish  to  estimate  from  those  data  the  likelihood  of 
again  meeting  him  under  the  same  circumstances — in  ignorance  of 
tlie  real  state  of  things,  viz.,  that  he  lives  in  that  street,  and 
returns  from  liis  business  at  that  hour.  Such  is  nearly  the  position 
in  which  we  stand  as  to  the  probabilitiea  of'  the  future  in  the 
majority  of  cases. 

\Vo  have  to' judge  then,  from  certain  recorded  facts,  of  the  pro- 
bability of  the  causes  which  have  occasioned  them,  and  thence  to 
deduce  the  probabilities  of  future  events  occurring  under  tlio 
operation  of  the  same  causes.  The  term  "cause"  is  not  hero  used 
in  its  metaphysical  sense,  but  as  simply  equivalent  to  "antecedent 
state  of  things. "■ 

Let  us  suppose  two  urns,  A  containing  two  white  balls,  B  con- 
taining one  white  and  one  black  ball,  and  that  a  person  not  know- 
ing which  is  which  has  drawn  a  white  ball  from  one,  to  find  the 
probability  that  this  is  the  urn  A.  This  is  in  fact  to  find,  suppos- 
ing a  great  number  of  such  drawings  to  bo  made,  what  proportion 
of  them  have  come  from  the  urn  A.  If  a  great  number  N  of 
drawings  are  made  indiseriminately  from  both  urns,.  JN  come 
f'.om  the  urn  A  and  are  all  white,  JN  white  come  from  the  urn 
li.  aud^N  black.      Tlie  drawing  actually  made  is  cither  one  of 


the  JN  white  from  A,  or  of  the  JN  white  from  K  As  it  is 
equally  likely  to  have  been  any  one  of  these,  the  chance  that  it 

came  from  A  is  A  N  -r  3  N,  or  §. 

Suppose  there  had  been  two  urns  A  and  three  urns  B,  and  a 
white  ball  has  been  drawn  from  one  of  the  five  ;  as  in  a  gnat 
number  N  of  drawings  JN  come  from  A  and  arc  white,  |N  from 
13  and  4  of  them  are  white,  the  chance  Uiat  it  came  from  one  of  the 
urus  A  is 

In  general  suppose  an  event  to  have  occurred  which  mnst  have 
been  preceded  by  one  of  several  causes,  and  let  the  aiilecedcnt 
proOabilities  of  the  causes  bo 

Pi.P^P,... 

and  let  Pi  be  tlie  probability  that  when  the  first  cause  exists  tho 
event  will  follow,  p,  the  same  probability  when  the  second  cause 
exists,  and  so  on,  to  find,  a/lcr  Vic  event  has  occurred,  tho  pro- 
babilities of  tho  several  causes  or  hypotheses. 

Let  a  great  number  N  of  trials  be  made  ;  out  of  these  the  number 
in  which  tho  first  cause  exists  is  P,N,  and  out  of  this  number  the 
cases  in  which  tho  event  follows  are  ftPjN  ;  in  like  manner  the 
cases  in  which  the  second  cause  exists  and  the  event  ibllinvs  are 
/loPoN  ;  and  so  on.  As  th'c  event  has  happened,  the  actual  case  is 
one  out  of  the  number 

(ftP,-(-jl?.,Pj+i>3?3-H&C.)N, 

and  as  the  number  in  which  the  first  cause 
w.as  present  is  ^,F,N  the  a  posteriori' \ito- 
bability  of  that  cause  is 

^ Pi^i  ^o^ 

'    3\i\-+Pii'.-irP3^3  +  kc.    ■     ^  ''■ 

So  likewise  for  the  other  causes, — the  sum 
of  these  a  posteriori  probabilities  being 

TOj  +  ITrt  +  ITj  -f   .  .  .   .    *=  1 . , 

Supposing  the  event  to  have  occurred  as 
above,  wc  now  see  how  the  probability  as  to 
the  future,  viz.,  whether  the  event  will  happen 
or  fail  in  a  fresh  trial,  is  aflected  by  it.  If 
the  first  cause  exi.sts,  the  chance  that  it 
will  hajipeii  is  p^ ;  hence  the  chance  of  its 
happening  from  the  first  cause  is  p^r^  ;  so 
likewise  for  the  second,  third,  &c.  Henco 
the  probability  of  succeeding  on  a  second 
trial  is 

PlTl  +  2'aT2  +  ;'3''3+      •       -       (13). 

14.  To  give  a  simple  example:  suppose  an 
urn  to  contain  three  balls  which  are  white 
or  black  ;  one  is  drawn  and  found  to  bo 
white.  It  is  replaced  in  the  urn  and  a  fresh  drawing  made  ;  find 
tho  chance  that  the  ball  drawn  is  white.  There  are  three  hypo- 
theses, which  are  taken  to  be  equally  probable  a  priori,  viz.,  the 
urn  contains  three  white,  two  white,  or  one  white, — that  of  none 
whito  being  now  impossible.     Tho  probability  after  tho  event  of 


the  first  is  by  (12) 


4 


-i; 


4  +  1-4  +  4-J 

that  of  the  second  is  i,' that  of  the  third  }. 
Hence  the  chance  of  the  new  drawing  giving  a  white  ball  is 

15.  Tho  calculations  required  in  the  application  of  formulas  (12) 
and  (13)  are  oltcn  tedious,  and  such"  questions  may  often  be  solved 
in  a  simpler  manner.     Let  us  consider  the  following  : — 

An  urn  contains  n  black  oi-.  white  balls.  A  ball  is  drawn  and 
replaced  ;  if  this  ha.s  been  done  r  times,  and  in  every  case  a  whito 
ball  has  appeared,  to  find  tho  chance  that  tho  (r+l)th  drawing 
will  give  a  whito  ball. 

If  s  drawings  are  made  successively  from  an  urn  containing  n 
halls,  always  replacing  the  ball  drawn,  the  number  of  dillerent  ways 
this  may  bo  done  is  clearly  »". 

If  there  bo  n  +  \  such  urns,  one  with  0  whito  balls,  one  with  1 
white,  one  with  2  whito,  &c.,  tho  last  with  n  white,  the  whole 
number  of  ways  in  which  r  drawings  can  bo  made  from  any  one  of 
them  is  (;i-H)>i'. 

Now  tho  number  of  ways  in  which  r  drawings,  all  while,  can  be 
made  from  the  first  is  0,  from  tho  scrond  1,  from  the  third  2',  from 
the  fourth  S',  and  so  on  ;  so  that  the  whole  number  of  ways  in 
which  r  drawings  of  a  white  ball  can  bo  made  from  tho  n-fl  urns 
is 

l■■-l-2'•-^3'^-  .  .  .  n'. 
Honca  the  chance  that  i/r  drawings  are  made  from  an  urn  containing 
n  black  or  white  balls  all  shall  be  white  it 

■2f~  (ii-H)i(' 


74 


PROBABILITY 


^1 


for  all  we  knnw  of  the  contents  of  such  an  urn  is  that  they  arc 
crinaliy  likely  to  be  those  of  any  one  of  the  n  +  1  urns  above. 

If  now  a  great  number  N  of  trials  of  r  drawings  be  maJe  from 
siich  urns,  the  number  of  cases  wliere  all  are  white  is;),N.  If  r+1 
druvviiigs  are  made,  the  number  of  cases  where  all  are  white  is 
;v+iN ;  that  is,  out  of  the^rN'  cases  where  the  first  r  drawings  are 
white  there  are  Pr+i^  where  the  (r  +  l)th  is  al30_white  ;  so  that  the 
probability  sought  for  in  tlie  (jucstion  is 

Pr+i     1  l"+'  +  2^+i  +  3'+'+  ■  ■  ■  «-+' 
^      I'r      n  V  +  2'  +  Z'+  .  .  .  W 

16.  Let  us  consider  the  same  question  u-hcn  the  ball  is  not  replaced. 
First  suppose  the  n  balls  arranged  in  a  row  from  A  to  B  as  below, 
the  white  on  the  left,  the  black  on  the  right,  the  arrow  marking 
the  point  of  separation,  which  point  is  unknown  (as  it  would  be  to 
a  bU;id  mau),  and  is  equally  likely  to  be  in  any  of  its  »  + 1  possible 
positions. 

A  1  2  n 

ooooooooooo. 

Now  if  two  balls,  1  and  2,  are  selected  at  random,  the  chance 
that  both  (ire  white  is  the  chance  of  the  arrow  falling  in  the  divi- 
sion 2B  of  the  row.  But  this  chance  is  the  same  as  that  of  a  third 
6all  3  (diflcrent  from  1  and  2),  chosen  at  random,  falling  in  2B, — 
which  chance  is  J,  because  it  is  equally  probable  that  1,  2,  or  3 
shall  be  the  l.xst  in  order.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  these  chances  are 
the  same  if  we  reflect  that,  the  ball  3  being  equally  likely  to  fall  in 
Al,  12,  or  2B,  the  number  of  possible  positions  for  the  arrow  in 
each  division  always  exceeds  by  1  the  number  of  positions  for 
3  ;  therefore  as  3  is  equally  likely  to  fall  in  any  of  the  three  divi- 
sions, so  is  tlio  arrow. 

The  chance  that  two  balls  drawn  at  random  shall  both  be  white 
is  thus  J  ;  in  the  same  way  that  for  three  balls  is  J,  and  so  on. 
Hence  the  chance  that  r  balls  diawn  shall  all  be  white  is 

the  same  chance  for  r -1-1  balls  is 

^'*-'=r  +  2'' 
thus,  as  in  a  large  number  N  of  trials  the  number  of  cases  where  the 
first  r  drawn  are  white  is  jtirN,  and  the  number  where  the  first  r  +  l 
are  white  is  Pr+iT^,  we  have  the  result : — 

If  r  balls  are  drawn  and  all  prove  to  be  white,  the  chance  that 
the  next  drawn  shall  also  be  white  is 


Pr+l 


r  +  l 


p,  r  +  2 
This  result  is  thus  independent  of  n,  the  whole  number  of  halls. 
This  result  applies  to  repeated  trials  as  to  any  event,  provided  we 
have  really  no  a  priori  knowledge  as  to  the  chance  of  success  or 
failure  on  one  trial,  so  that  all  values  for  this  chance  are  equally 
likely  before  the  trial  or  trials.  Thus,  if  we  see  a  stranger  hit  a 
mark  four  times  rujming,  the  chance  he  does  so  again  is  f  ;•  or,  if  a 
person,  knowing  nothing  of  the  water  where  he  is  fishing,  draws  up 
a  fish  each  time  in  four  casts  of  his  line,  the  same  is  the  chance  of 
his  succeeding  a  fifth  time.^ 

In  cases  where  we  know,  or  rather  think  we  know,  the  facility 
as  to  a  single  trial,  if  the  result  cxf  a  number  of  trials  gives  a  large 
ditference  in  the  proportion  of  successes  to  failures  from  what  we 
should  anticipate,  this  will  afford  an  appreciable  presumption  that 
our  assumption  as  to  the  facility  was  erroneous,  as  indeed  common 
sense  indicates.  If  a  coin  turns  up  head  twenty  times  running,  we 
should  say  the  two  faces  are  probably  not  alike,  or  that  it  was  not 
thrown  fairly.  We  shall  see  later  on,  when  wo  come  to  treat  of 
the  combination  of  separate  probabilities  as  to  the  same  event,  the 
method  of  dealing  with  such  cases  (see  art.  39). 

We  will  give  another  example  which  may  bo  easily  solved  by 
means  of  (12),  or  by  the  simpler  process  below. 

There  are  n  horses  in  a  race,  about  which  I  have  no  knowledge 
except  that  one  of  the  horses  A  is  black  ;  as  to  the  result  of  the 
race  I  have  only  the  information  that  a  black  horse  has  certainly 
won  :  to  find  the  chance  that  this  was  A — supposing  the  propor- 
tion of  black  among  racehorses  in  general  to  be  ^ ;  i.e.,  the  pro- 
bability that  any  given  horse  is  black  is^. 

•Suppose  a  large  number  N  of  trials  made  a^  to  snch  a  case.     A 

wins  in  — N  of-  these.     A.nother  horse  B  wins  in  — N ;  mit  of  these 
■n  ■  '1  ' 

*  It  may  be  asked  why  the  above  reasoning  does  not  apply  to  the  case  of 
the  chance  "f  a  coin  winch  haa  turned  up  head  r  times  doinc  so  once  more. 
The  reason  is  that  the  antecedent  proDabiltties  of  the  different  hypotheses  are 
Rot  equal.  Thus,  let  a  shilling  have  turned  up  head  once;  to  find  the  chance 
of  its  doing  so  a  second  time.  In  formula  (12>.tliree  hypotheses  may  be  made  as 
to  a  double  : — throw  1°  two  heads,  2°  a  head  and  tail,  3°  two  tails ;  but  the  proba- 
bilities of  these  are  respectively  1,  i,  \\  therefore  by  (12)  the  probability  of  the 
1st  after  the  event  is  H-d-fJ-  4)=i:  that  of  the  second  is  also  \\  and  by  (13) 
the  probability  ol  ^"acceeding  on  a  second  trial  is 

JteCAusc.  If  bypotbeais  2*  is  the  true  one,  the  second  trial  must  fail. 


B  is  black  in  — Np.     Likewise  for  C ;  and  so  on.     Hence  the  actuak 


case  which  has  occurred  is  one  out  of  tlie  number 

1, 


— N-H- 
n 


-N/>; 


and,  as  of  these  the  cases  in  which  A  wins  are 

chance  that  A  has  won  is 

1 


-N,  tho  required 


\  +  {n-l)p 

17.  We  now  proceed  to  consider  the  important  theorem  of  Ba\  ■ 
(see  Todhunter,  p.  291  ;  Laplace,  Thiorie  Analylique  des  Frob. , 
chap.  6),  the  object  of  which  is  to  deduce  from  the  experience  of  a 
given  number  of  trials,  as  to  an  event  which  must  happen  or  fail 
on  each  trial,  the  information  thus  afforded  as  to  the  real  facility 
of  the  event  in  any  one  trial,  which  facility  is  identical  with  the 
proportion  of  successes  out  of  an  infinite  number  of  tiinls,  were  i( 
possible  to  make  them. 

Thus  we  fiud  in  the  Carlisle  Table  of  Mortality  that  of  664J 
persons  aged  thirty  1245  died  before  reaching  fifty  ;  it  becomes 
then  a  question  how  far  we  can  rely  on  the  real  facility  of  the 
event,  that  is,  the  proportion  of  mankind  aged  thirty  who  die 
before  fifty  not  differing  from  the  ratio  T;l\i  by  more  than  given 
liinits  of  excess  or  defect.  Again,  it  may  be  asked,  if  .'i642  (or  any 
other  number  of)  fresh  trials  be  made,  what  is  the  probability  that 
the  number  of  deaths  shall  not  differ  from  1245  by  more  than  a 
given  deviation  ? 

The  question  is  equivalent  to  the  following: — An  urn  contains  • 
very  great  number  of  black  and  white  balls,  the  proportion  of  each 
being  unknown  ;  if,  on  drawing  vi  +  n  balls,  to  are  found  white  ancl 
n  black,  to  find  the  probability  that  the  proportion  of  the  numbers 
in  the  urn  of  each  colour  lies  between  given  limits. 

The  questioi;  will  not  be  altered  if  wo  suppose  all  the  halls 
ranged  in  a  line  AB  (fig.  2),  the  white  ones  on  the  left,  the  black 
on  the  right,  the  point  y 

X    where    they    meet  ^ 

being  unknown  and 
all  positions  for  it  in 
AB  being  a  priori 
equally  probable.  Then, 
m  +  n  points  having  r- 
been  chosen  at  random 
ill  AB,  m  are  found  to 
fallen  AX,  »  on  XB. 


X 

Fig.  2. 
That  is,  all  we  know  of  X  is  that  it  is  tlio 
()n-H)tli  in  order  beginning  from  A  of  m  +  n  +  \  jioints  chosen  at 
random  in  AB.     If  we  put  AB  =  1,  AX  =  x,  the  number  of  cas« 
when  the  point  X  falls  on  the  element  dx,  is  measured  by 


j:"'(1  -  xydx , 


since  for  a  specified  set  of  m  points,  out  of  the  m  +  n,  falling  on 
AX,  the  measure  would  be  x"{l-x)'dx,  and  the  number  of  suoh 

seta  is  — ; — .    Now  the  whole  number  of  cases  is  given  by  integrat- 

(m  j?t  ■  a  .<  u 

ing  thirdiflerential.from  1  to  0  ;  and  the  number  in  which  X  falls 
between  given  distances  o,  j3  from  A  is  found  by  integrating  from 
3  to  a.  Hence  (Ac  probability  that  the  ratio  of  the  while  balls  in  the 
urn  to  the  whole  nu'mbfr  lies  between  any  two  given  liinits  a,  fi  is 


P=   -FT 


x"(l  -  x)'dx 


/  a;"(l  -  5 


iW. 


"dx 


The  cUirve  qf  frcqtieney  for  the  point  X  after  the  event — that  is,  thy 
oriiinate  of  which  at  any  point  of  AB  is  proportional  to  the  frei 
qiicncy  or  density  of  the  positions  of  X  iu  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  that  point— is 

jr=a:"(l  -x)"; 
the  maximum  ordinate  KV  occurs  at  a  point  K,  dividing  AB  in  the 
ratio  m  :  n, — the  ratio  of  the  total  numbers  of  white  and  black  balls 
being  thus  juore  likely  to  be  that  of  the  numbers  of  each  actually 
drawn  than  any  other. 

Let  us  suppose,  for  instance,  that  three  white  and  two  black  have 
been  drawn  ;  to  find  the  chance  that  the  pro]iortiou  of  white  balls 
is  between  f  and  i  of  the  whole  ;  that  is,  that  it  differs  by  less 
than  ±  E  from  |,  its  most  natural  value. 


P^—ri 


xfdx 


/"'x^l-xY-dx 


2256     IS 


18.  An  event  has  happened  m  times  and  failed  n  times  in  w>  +  n 
trials.  To  find  the  probability  that  in  p  +  q  further  trials  it  s'lall 
iappen^  times  and  fail  g  times, — that  is,  that,  p-fj  more  point* 


P  11  0  B  A  B  1  J^  1  T   Y 


ili> 


bPi'iig  taken  at  random  in  AB, // shall  fall  in  AX  and  q  in  XB. 
i'he  whole  number  of  cases  is  measured  by 

\m  +  n    /•'  \m  +  n   /■' 

The  number  of  favourable  cases,  when  any  particular  set  of  p 
points,  out  of  the;j  +  }  additional  trials,  falls  in  AX,  is  measured 

\m  +  n    /-' 

—=—=  I   a:"+i'(l-a)"+«(fe, 
I™  U_-/o 
because,  the  number  of  cases  as  to  the  in^-n  points  being,  when  X 
falls  on  the  element  dx. 

1 71!  +  n 

; — -.—x^^X-xYilj:] 

\m  \n. 

each  of  these  affords  xH\  -  x^«  cases  where  p  new  points  fall  on  AX, 
and  g  on  Xli. 
Now,,  the  number  of  diiTercnt  sets  of  ^  points  being 

\p  +  9 

\E\1  ' 
liie  required  probability  is 

L^''i-/"'a-(l-a;)-rfa: 

Or,  by  means  of  the  known  values  of  these  definite  integrals, 
\p  +  q     \m+p  \n  +  q  |m  +  n  +  l 

\p\'q'        1^  lii        '  |"t  +  n  +  p  +  y  +  l  ■     •     ^     '■ 
For  instance,  the  chance  that  ii!  one  more  trial  tlie  event  shall 

-»».  "jpen  is  —-; -^     This  is  easy  to  verify,  as  tne  line  AB  has  been 

divided  into  vi  +  n  +  A  sections  by  the  m  +  n  +  1  points  taken  on  it 
fincUi'ling  X).  Now  if  one  more  trial  is  made,  i.e.,  one  more  point 
iak;n  at  random,  it  is  diually  likelv  to  fall  in  any  section  :  and 
vi+  1  sections  are  favourable. 

19.   When  the  number  of  trials  m  +  n  in  art.  17  is  large,  the  pro- 
bability is  considerable  that  the  facility  of  the  event  on  a  single 


(15); 


trial  will  not  differ  from  its  most  natural  value,  viz., 


m\-n 


by 


more  than  a  very  small  deviation.  To  make  this  apparent, 
we  shall  have  to  modify  the  formula  (14),  which  gives  for  the 
chance  tliat  this  facility  lies  between  the  limits  a  and  0  (by  substi- 
tuting for  the  denominator  its  known  value), 

I  m  +  n  + 1  /-P 
P=~-, — ;—-/    a;""(l  -  x)Va:      .■    .     .     .     (17). 

To  find  now  the  probability  that  the  facility  lies,  between  the 

limits  /S" +  S,  and  o= S,  where  5  is  small.  .  Put  for 

)/H- »  m  +  n. 

^•;;rr7  ■*'''^>  "'"^  (^^)  becomes 


m  +  « 


m  + 


I'l  »/-4  v/i  +  w       /   \ml-)i       / 


Now  if  a:  is  small,  and  we  jmt  K  =  (a  +  a:)"', 

,  ,  X     mx' 

logM  =  nilogo  +  m--2^ 

mx    mz' 

Rorrect  as  far  as-  the  square  of  x.     Hence  the  two  factors  under  the 
Jrfgn  of  integration  become 

n" 


(m  +  n)' 
Ko  that 


^,(«+nx)-'-^---x«,   and 


(OT  +  «)»  " 


Jiow,  since  by  Stirling's  theorem  |m-m'"+le-'"\/2ir,  the  constant 
ooelficient  here  becomes 

(?/!  +  « +  l)(m  +  n)"-t-"+le-'"-"^2ir      7ii"n"      _  (jn  +  «)' 

«i"'.«".c-"'-"27rv/»in  (m  +  iO"+"     s/imn-ir ' 

taking  m  +  n  +  ]=;n  +  )i.     Now  if  we  substitute  in  (18) 


(19) 


-u.Ih- 


where 
or  finally 


A  =  0 


di 


(20), 
(21  \ 


for  the  approximate  value  of  the  probability  that  the  real  facility 

of  the  event  lies  between  the  limits iS. 

?«  +  n 

Thus,  if  out  of  10,000  trials,  the  event  has  happened  6000  times, 

the   proliability  tliat,   out  of  an  infinite  number,  the  number  of 

successes  shall  lie  between  4±T5ii>  or  between  -J-g^  and  ^"j'jj,  of  the 

whole,  will  be 

P'=  •G78  =  |  nearly, 

10' 
for  we  find  from  (20)  \  =       ,        .  ^  =  •?  nearly;  and,  refemng 

to  the  table  in  art.  9,  we  find  the  above  value  for  the  integral  (21). 
We  must  refer  to  the  sL-sth  chapter  of  Laplace  for  the  investigation 
of  how  far  the  number  of  successes  in  a  given  number  of  fresh  trials 
may  be  expected  to  deviate  from  the  natural  proportion,  viz.,  that 
of  the  observed  cases — as  also  for  several  closely  allied  questions, 
with  important  applications  to  statistics. 

III.  On  Expectation. 

20.  The  value  of  a  given  chance  of  obtaining  a  given  sum  of 
money  is  the  chauce  multiplied  by  that  sum  ;.  for  in  a  great  number 
of  trials  this  would  give  the  sum  actually  realized.  The  same  may 
be  said  as  to  loss.  Thus  if  it  is  2  to  1  that  a  horse  will  win  a  race, 
it  is  considered  a  fair  wager  to  lay  £10  to  £20  on  the  result;  for  the 
value  of  the  expected  gain  is  5  of  10,  and  that  of  the  expected  loss  ^ 
of  20,  which  are  equal.  Thus,  if  tlie  probabilities  for  and  against 
an  event  are  p,  q,  and  I  arrange  in  any  way  to  gain  a  sum  a  if  it 
happens  and  lose  a  sum  b  if  it  fails,  then  if  pa  =  qb  I  shall  neither 
gain  nor  lose  in  the  long  run  ;  but  if  the  ratio  a  :  6  be  less  tnan 
this,  my  expectation  of  loss  exceeds  that  of  gain  ;  or,  in  other 
words,  I  must  lose  in  the  long  run. 

The  above  definition  is  what  is  called  the  mathematical  expecta- 
tion ;  but  it  clearly  is  not  a  proper  measure  of  the  atlvantage  or 
loss  to  the  individual ;  lor  a  poor  man  would  undoubtedly  prefer 
£500  down  to  the  chance  of  £1000  if  a  certain  coin  turns  up  head. 
The  importance  of  a  sum  of  money  to  an  individual,  or  its  moral 
value,  as  it  has  been  called,  depends  on  many  circumstances  which 
it  is  impossible  to  take  into  account ;  but,  roughly  and  generally, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  Daniel  Bernoulli's  hypothesis,  viz.,  that 
this  importance  is  measured  by  the  sum  divided  by  tlie  fortune  of  the 
individual ' — is  a  true  and  natural  one.  Thus,  generally  speaking, 
£5  is  the  .same  to  a  nian  with  £1000  as  £50  to  one  with  £10,000; 
and  it  may  be  observed  that  this  nrincinlo  is  very  generally  acted 
on,  in  taxation,  &c. 

21.  To  estimate,  according  to  this  hypothesis,  the  advantage  or 
moral  value  of  his  whole  fortune  to  the  individual,  or  his  moral 

fortune,  as  Laplace  calls  it,  in  contradistinction  to  his  physical 
fortune,  leta-his  ;)/i»/sicni  fortune,  2/  =  his  ?Hor«Z  fortune,  then,  if 
the  foi-mer  receive  an  increment  dx.,  we  have,  from  Daniel  Ber- 
noulli's principle, 

dyk—; 


.■.y-k\ogj^ 


(22). 


k,  h  being  two  constants,  x  and  y  are  always  positive,  and  x>h  ; 
for  every  man  must  possess  some  fortune,  or  its  equivalent,  in  order 
to  live. 

22.  To  estimate  now  the  value  of  a  moral  expectation.  Supposo 
a  person  whose  fortune  is  <i  to  have  the  chance  p  of  obtaining  a 
sum  a,  q  of  obtaining  $,  r  of  obtaining  y,  ic,  and  let 

p-\-q  +  r+  .  .  .   =1, 
only  one  of  the  events  being  possible.     Now  his  moral  expectation 
from  the  first  chance— that  is.  the  increment  of  his  moral  fortune 
into  the  chance — is 

pk^  log^-^-log^  I  -.pfclog(a  +  o)-jjl-logf-. 

Henco'his  whole  moral  expectation  is'' 
K-kp\og{a  +  tt)  +  kq]og{a  +  p)  +  kr\og{a  +  y)+  .  .  .   -Hogo; 

1  Tills  rulo  must  bo  undorxtood  to  Iiold  only  when  Ilia  mim  In  very  smnll,  ol 
nittiLT  Innnllcsiniul,  strictly  B])(>iUvil))(.  It  would  K-iid  to  nbituidUk'S  It  It  Wi'r< 
iiit.'d  for  laipo  Incrumcnls  (thniiK)i  Hiiffon  tins  done  so;  sto  Todlliilitcr,  p.  3-|.'.>, 
TImm,  to  a  niiin  posscssliifr  £100,  it  h  tif  tlic  sumo  Iniportanco  to  vccclvu  a  t(itl  ol 
£100  a»  two  sepnrato  (iirts  of  £.'iO;  but  this  rule  would  kIvc  ns  tlio  measure  of 
llio  Importiincc  of  tlio  first  in^=\ :  wlillo  In  the  ollur  case,  It  would  (tlve  ^Vn-*- 
A'n=fi-  "^1"-'  1*^"'  mcnsuri'  of  tlio  Inipoitjincc  of  an  increment  when  notamull  II 
a  manor  for  cutculntlon,  as  stiown  In  llic  tc?(t. 

2  It  Is  tmpoi'tunt  to  roinnrk  tluit  wo  should  be  wronff  In  thus  nddlnff  (ho 
expectations  If  the  events  were  not  niutiiQlly  exclusive.  Kor  II. c  inathemutkal 
rxparlallons  it  Is  nol  so. 


77G 


PROBABILITl 


ami,  if  Y  stayuls  for  hia  moral  fortune  including  this  expectation, 
that  is,  k  log  -r-  +  E,  we  have 

Y  =  /.7)log(rt  +  a)  +  /.7  g(a  +  /3)+  .  .  .  -i-logi.  .  (23). 
Let  X  be  the  physical  fortune  corresponding  to  this  inoi-al  one, 
by  (22) 

Y  =  ilogX-itIogA. 

Hence  X^(rt  +  o)''(ii  +  j3)'(a  +  7)' (24); 

aud  X-«  will  bo  the  actual  or  physical  increase  of  fortune  which 
is  of  the  same  value  to  him  as  his  expectation,  and  which  he  may 
reasonably  accept  in  lieu  of  it. 
The  mathematical  value  of  the  same  expectation  is 

po  +  (75  +  r7+ (25). 

23.  Several  results  follow  from  (24).  Thus,  if  the  sums  a,  e,  7 
...  are  very  small,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  moral  expectation 
poincides  with  the  mathematical,  for 


-.(■. 


i/'i  ,     ° 


+  ?-  +  ■ 


24.  We  may  show  also  that  it  is  disadvantageous  to  play  at  even 
a  fair  game  of  chance  (unless  the  stakes  are  very  small,  in  which 
case  the  last  article  applies).  Thus,  suppose  a  man  whose  fortune 
is  a  plays  at  a  game  where  his  chance  of  winning  a  sum  o  is  p,  and 
his  cha.-ice  of  losing  a  sum  /3  is  q  —  l-p.     If  the  game  is  fair. 

Now   by   (24)   the   physical   fortune   which  is   erjuivalent   to  his 
prospects  after  the  game  is 

X  =  {a  +  a.)p[a-^)i, 
fi  a 

or  X  =  (i  +  o)»+P(a-/3)''+^. 

Now  the  geometrical  mean  of  )•  quantities  is  less  thau  the  arith- 
metical,' so  that  if  there  are  $  quantities  a  +  o,  aaJ  a  quantities 

a-e, 

1 


\-it 


+  a)   (fl  -  0) 


+3  ^3{a  +  a.)  +  a(a-e) 


a  +  )3  ' 

or  X<a, 

so  that  he  must  expect  morally  to  lose  by  the  game. 

25.  The  advantage  of  insurance  against  risks  may  be  seen  bj'  the 
following  instance.  A  merchant,  whose  fortune  is  represented  by 
1,  will  realize  a  sum  t  if  a  certain  vessel  arrives  sa.'"ely.  Let  the 
probability  of  this  bey.  To  make  up  exactly  for  the  risk  run  by 
che  issiu'ancc  company,  he  should  pay  them  a  sum 

If  he  does,  his  moral  fortune  becomes  by  (22) 
,  ,      1  +  ?€ 

i-log^^  ; 

while,  if  he  does  not  insuj  e,  it  will  be  (23). 


kp  log- 


h 


Now  the  first  of  these  e.vceeds  the  second,  so  that  he  gains  by 
insuring  on  these-  terms  ;  because 


that  is 

for,  putting  p  = - 


log(l +;>£)>;>  log  (1  +  0, 
(1+J>6)->1  +  .; 


m  +  n 

/m(l_+0  +  «\-+" 

because  (see  note  art.  24),  if  ?«  (1  +  6)  +  ni3  divided  into  m  +  n  equal 
parts,  their  product  is  greater  than  that  of  m  parts  each  equal  to 
]  +  e  and  n  parts  each  eijual  to  1. 

The  merchant  will  still  gain  by  paying,  over  and -above  what 
covers  the  risk  of  tlie  company,  a  sum  o,  at  most,  which  satisfies 
log(l  -a  +  pe)=;)log(l  +  e); 
.-,  a=\+pe-(\  +  e)'>. 

By  paying  any  sum  not  exceeding  this  value,  he  still  gains,  while 

'  A  very   simply  proof  of  tliis  princijile  is  .is  follows  : — let  a  number  N  be 
(Uvidcd  into  r  paits  a,  b,  c,  Jic;  if  any  two  of  these,  as  a,  6,  are  unequal,  since 

a+b    a-i-b   , 
It  follows  that  the  pro-luct  abed ...  is  increased  by  suTistituting  —^  ,  — g-,  for  a 

nnj  b.  IlL-ncc  ns  lonp  ns  nny  two  arc  unequal  we  can  divide  N  differently  so  j'S 
t-i  obtain  a  (ncatT  ixuluct;  and  tlieiefore  when  tlie  parts  are  all  equal  lh« 
pintiuci  Ugieatcsr,  or 

■ )>at^.. 


the  insurance  office  also  makes  a  profit,  which  is  really  a  certainty 
when  it  has  a  large  business  ;  so  that,  as.  Laplace  remarks,  this 
example  explains  how  such  an  office  renders  a  rw.l  service  to  th' 
public,  while  making  a  profit  for  itself.  In  this  it  differs  from  a 
gambling  establislimeut,  in  which  case  the  ijoblic  must  lose,  in 
any  sense  of  the  term. 

It  may  be  shown  tliat  it  is  better  to  expose  one's  fortune  in 
sepalate  sums  to  risks  independent  of  each  other  than  to  expose 
the  whole  to  the  same  danger.^  Suppose  a  merchant,  having  a  for- 
tune a,  has  besides  a  sum  e  which  he  must  receive  if  a  ship  arrive" 
in  safety.     By  (24)  the  value  in  money  of  his  present  foitune  is 

X  =.  (a  +  c/a' , 
wherey=  chance  of  the  ship  arri  ping,  andj  =  l-p. 

Now  supi)Ose  hii  risks  the  same  sum  in  two  eciiial  porrions,  i. 
two  ships.  We  cannot  apply  (23),  as  the  events  are  not  mutually 
exclusive  ;  but  we  see  that,  if  both  ships  arrive,  the  chance  of  this 
being  p",  he  realizes  the  whole  sum  e  ;  if  one  only  arrives,  the 
chance  being  2pq,  he  receives  Je  ;  if  both  are  lost,  the  chance  being 
}-,  ho  loses  all.     Thus  (24)  he  is  now  worth  a  sum 

X'  -[a  +  ^y'^a  +  itplal-. 

Now  this  sum  is  greater  than  the  former ;  for 

(a  +  6)^'-^.  {a  +  y)-fi:  ai"-i  >  1 , 

tl»-'>t  is,  (a  +  ()-'">(a  +  i^p'Ja-''^  >  1 ; 

for  (i±45)->  1 

ai^a  -t-  e  ) 
as  is  obviously  true.- 

Now  suppose  he  ris!<s  the  sura  e  in  three  separate  ventures.  His 
fortune  will  be 

X"  =  (o-f  fjP'.  {a  +  iiff\  {a+  hffi'a^; 

and  we  have  to  show  that  this  is  worth  mor^  than  whcn.tliere  wore 

two.     If  we  put  a  outside  each  bracket,  and  put  5  =  5-  we  have  to 

on 
prove 

(,l  +  3S)P'{l+2Sf!''-i.{l  +  sf'">->(.\+SS)P'.(,T.  +  lifP<'  ; 

or  (l-^35)P'-•P.<l-^25)'''?a-^5)'«'>(l-^iS)■^«; 

or,  since  j9?  -  p  =  -  pq, 

(1  +  35) -^(1  +  25)^^(1  +  S)'?  >  (1 -f  |8)», 

i(-rS^3r(-')'>(-t')'= 

now  (l  +  2J)2<(l  +  !)'(l-f35); 

iience  the  fraction  in  the  brackets  is  always  less  than  its))tl»  power 
!xsp<  1  ;  and  we  can  now  show  that 

that  is,  (l  +  25)'>(l  +  3S)(l-HSj=, 

or  l-)-6S-H2S=-l-S5'>l  +  65  +  *^5=  +  ^i'- 

Irfiplace  shows  (ch.  x.)  that  the  gain  continues  to  increase  by 
subdivision  of  the  risk  ;  it  could  no  doubt  be  shown  by  ordinary 
algebra.  He  shows  further  that  the  moral  advantage  tends  to 
become  equal  to  the  mathematical.  This  may  be  dune  more  easily 
thus  :— 

The  expression  is,  when  e  is  divided  int\r  equal  parts, 


X  =  (a  +  0''(«  +  e--)         («  +  *-TJ 


rtr-l) 


■-542 


and  we  have  to  find  the  limit  towards  which  this  tends  as  r  becomes 
infinitely  great. 
Puts  =  a  +  e; 

x=.^'(.-if-"(.-2^)'^''^-:!\.-.-:)if-''(.-0" 

No.v  in  the  binomial  expansion 

r        V-l    ,  r(r-l)  r 
l=p  +rp       g+     ,...   p 


.5  2  . 
q  +. 


the  greatest  term  is  the  (,qr+l]lh,  viz., 

_r(r-l).  .  .  (r/»H 

1-2-3.  .  .  rq 

The  factor  in  X  corresponding  to  this  is 


_ r(r-l)  .  .  .  irp  +  l)  rp  yq 
^  1-2-3.  .  .rq      ''    "i    ' 


{^-rqlY^vJ 


if  we  put  U =:-?€. 

Let  us  now  express  the  binomial  series  before  and  after  T  thus  : 

1=  .  .  .  +T3  +  'Ii  +  'Ti  +  T:  +  ti  +  L  +  t3+  -  .  . 


2  The  famillnr  expression  n- 1  to  "  put  all  one's  eggs  in  the  same  basket  "  tbowa 
us  how  general  cuoimyn  sense  has  recognized  this  principle- 


PROBABILITY 


i  1 1 


and  we  have 

The  factors  towards  the  beginning  and  end  may  be  all  taken  as  1, 
because  the  terms  of  the  binomial  increase  rapidly  in  value  from 
either  end  when  /■=■  oo,  and  we  shall  have  the  true  limit  for  X  by 
taking  an  indefinitely  great  number  of  factors  on  either  side  of  U. 
which  number,  however,  may  he  infinitely  less  than  r. 

As  the  tth  factors  before  and  after  U  may  be  expressed  thus 
(s  being  always  very  small  compared  to  r)— 


(u/rlj)^'.  (ue-'^)''' 


and  as  . 


To  +  T,  +  T  +  <,  +  <2  .  .  .  =1,  we  have 
Now  we  have  seen  in  art.  8  that 


T.=T<;' 


ij,q,-     'Jpqr 


Hence 


T.-t.  =  Tc-o^r'zz:^. 


ipqr 


2>qv 


P-9t 


sT,-s<.=^T.-.- 
pq      r 

Henco  the  exponent  of  e  above  becomes 


^  y~?x 


^-f — ft  «- 


ipqr- 


ipqr 


rV  '    pq 

s,  being  the  extreme  limit  |or  s. 

s  ^' 

I f  we  put  x  =  -j-.,  and  x°c-'2pg  =  <t>{x), 

the  above  sum  is 

Now  it  is  easy  to  prove  that 

x'-c    adx  is  finite; 


/• 


number  N  of  trials  were  made  (either  really  as  to  the  event,  if  its 
facility  is  known  to  be  i,  as  in  tossing  a  coin  ;  or  as  to  it  and  otlicr 
eases  resembling  it  as  to  our  ignorance  of  the  real  facility,  if  such 
is  the  state  of  tilings)  in  iN  the  event  happens,  and  out  of  these 
the  witness  asserts  in  J^N  cases  that  it  did  happen.  Now,  out  of 
the  whole  number,  he  asserts  in  AN  cases  that  it  happened,  as  there 
is  no  reason  for  his  affirming  oftener  than  he  denies  (or,  it  may  be 
said,  he  atiirms  in  ipN  cases  where  it  did  happen,  and  in  i(l  -;j)N 
cases  where  it  did  not).  Hence,  dividing  the  whole  number  of  cases 
when  it  happens  and  he  affirms  it  by  the  whole  number  of  cases 
where  he  affirms  it,  we  find  i/)N-riN=;). 

We  have  entered  at  length  on  the  proof  of  what  is  almost  self- 
evident  (perhaps  indeed  included  in  the  definition)  in  this  case, 
because  the  same  method  will  succeed  in  other  cases  which  arc  not 
so  easily  to  be  discerned. 

28.  Let  us  now  consider  the  same  question  when  the  a  priori  pro- 
bability of  the  fact  or  event  is  known.  Suppose  a  bag  contains  n 
balls,  one  white  and  the  rest  black,  and  the  same  witness  says  he 
has  seen  the  white  ball  drawn ;  what  is  the  chance  that  it  was 
drawn  ? 

A  great  number  N  of  trials  being  made,  the  number  in  which 

the  white  ball  is  drawn  is  -N,  and  out  of  these  he  states  ft  in 
u 

ft-'pN  c.nses.  Out  of  the  remaining  (l-n->)  N  casts  where  a 
black  ball  was  drawn,  he  says  (untruly)  that  in  (1  -  v)  (1  -Tt"')  N 
cases  it  was  white. 

Now,  di\'idiiig  the  number  of  favourable  cases, -viz.,  those  where 
he  says  it  is  white  and  it  is  so,  by  the  whole  number  of  cases,  yi^., 
those  where  he  says  it  is  white,  we  have  for  the  probability 
required 

(26). 


and  much  more  is  it  so  when  the  superior  limit  is  finite. 
Hence  the  exponent  of  c  becomes 

rU    pq  U       pq 

where  K  h  finite  ;  so  that  the  exponent  becomes  infinitesimal 
when  r  =  to . 
The  limit  therefore  towards  which  X  tends  is 
X  =  U  =  z-q(  =  a+p(, 
that  is,  the  mathematical  value  of  the  fortune. 

Tlie  very  important  applications  of  probability  to  annuities  and 
insurance  are  to  be  found  in  the  articles  on  those  subjects,  to  which 
therefore  wo  refer  the  reader. 

IV.  Pkobabilitt  of  Testimont. 

26.- We  have  here  to  treat  of  the  probability  of  events  attested 
"by  several  witnesses  of  known  ^credibility,  or  which  have  several 
difTeient  probabilities  in  their  favour,  derived  from  different  inde- 
pendent sources  of  information  of  any  kind,  of  known  v.ilues.' 

A  witness  may  fail  in  two  ways  ;  he  may  be  intentionally  dis- 
honest, or  he  may  be  mistaken  ;  his  evidence  may  be  false,  either 
lieoause  he  wishes  to  deceive,  or  because  he  is  deceived  himself. 
However,  wo  will  not  here  take  separate  account  of  these  two 
jources  of  error,  but  simply  consider  the  probability  of  the  truth  of 
a  ctatement  made  by  a  witness,  which  will  be  a  true  measure  of  the 
value  of  liis  evidence.  To  estimate  this  probability  in  any  given 
C'lsi'  is  not  an  easy  matter  ;  but  if  we  could  examine  a  large  number 
iif  st.itoments  made  by  a  certain  person,  and  find  in  how  many  of 
tlu  ill  he  was  right,  the  ratio  of  these  numbers  would  give  the  pro- 
lialiilily  that  any  statement  of  his,  taken  at  random,  whether  past 
or  future,  is  a  true  one. 

27.  Suppose  a  witness,  whose  credibility  is  ;>,  states  that  a  fact 
occurred  or  did  not  occur,  or  that  an  event  turned  out  in  one  way. 
When  only  two  ways  are  possible.  If  nothing  was  known  a  priori 
as  to  the  probability  of  the  fact,  or  if  its  real  focility  was  J,  it  is 
clear  that  the  probability  that  it  did  occur  is  p.     For  if  a  great 

'  The  questfon  now  before  us  Is  quite  different  from  that  of  tlic  ehnncc  of  on 
event  liappcninf:  or  havlnj;  liuppcited  which  nmy  happen  In  different  wiiys,  In 
which  case  we  luld  the  acparutc  piobabihlics.  Tiius  if  Ihel-c  ore  hut  two  horses 
in  a  race,  of  cqu:il  merit  nnj  beloncinj;  to  one  owner,  his  chance  of  wlnnloB  is 
4  +  J=l.  lint  suppose  1  only  know  that  one  of  tlic  two  is  his.  and,  hcshlcs.  some 
one  whose  eicdibiilty  Is  )  Iciis  me  lie  lins  won  .he  race;  here  I  have  two  sepaintc 
probabilities  of  ^  each  foj-  the  same  c\ciit ;  but  It  would  clearly  be  wrong  to  add 
Ihcm  togclhcr. 


n-'p 


n-'p  +  {l-n-^)[l-p)     n-l-(»-2)p' 

This  holds  for  any  event  whose  a  priori  probability  is  ;i-'. 

If  n  be  very  large,  this  probability  will  be  very  small,  unless  ;> 
is  nearly  =1  ;  and,  indeed,  if  wo  go  back  to  the  common  sense 
view,  it  is  clear  we  should  hesitate  to  believe  a  man  who  said  he 
had  drawn  the  white  ball  from  a  bag  containing  10,000  balls,  all 
but  it  being  black.  It  may  be  observed  that  if  n  =  2,  =r=;),  as  in 
art.  27. 

We  have  thus  a  scientific  explanation  of  the  universal  tendency 
rather  to  reject  tho  evidence  cf  a  witness  than  to  accept  the  truth 
of  a  fact  attested  by  him,  when  it  is  in  itself  of  an  extraordinary  or 
very  improbable  nature. 

29.  Two  independent  witnesses,  A  and  B,  both  state  a  fnct,  or 
that  an  event  turned  out  in  a  particular  way  (only  two  ways  being 
possible),  to  find  the  probability  of  the  truth  of  the  statement. 

Supposing  nothing'is  known  o  priori  as  to  the  event  in  question, 
let  a  gre.'tt  number  N  of  trials  be  made  as  to  such  events  ;  the 
number  of  successes  will  be  JN  ;  out  of  these  the  witness  A  affirms 
the  success  in  ipN  cases ;  out  of  these  the  witness  B  affirms  it, 
too,  in  4;)yN  cases.=  Out  of  the  iN  failures  A  affirms  a  success 
in  i(l-;;)N  casts;  and  out  of  these  B  also  affirms  one  in 
4(1  -p){\  -ji'')N  cases.  Hence,  dividing  the  favourable  cases  by  the 
whole  number,  the  probability  sought  is 

PI''  ,o-, 

'"'pp'  +  {l^p){l-p') <"'• 

wliere  ;),  p'  are  the  credibilities  of  the  two  witnesses. 

Tliis  very  important  result  also  holds  if  jj  be  the  probability  of 
the  event  derived  from  any  source,  and  p'  the  credibility  of  ono 
witness,  as  in  art.  28  ;  or  if  /)  aud  ]>'  be  any  independent  proba- 
bilities, derived  from  any  sources,  ns  to  one  event. 

30.  We  give  another  method  of  establishing  the  foimul.i  (27). 
Referring  to  art.  13,  the  observed  event  is  tho  concurrent  evidence 
of  A  and  B  that  a  statement  is  true.  There  are  two  hypotheses 
—that  it  is  true  or  false.  Antecedent  to  B's  evidence  the  jiro- 
babilities  of  these  hyiiothcses  are  ;)  and  l-;)(nrt.  27),  as  A  has 
said  that  it  is  true.  The  observed  event  now  is  that  B  says  the 
same.  On  the  firSt  liypothcsis,  tho  probability  that  he  will  say  this 
is;;'  ;  on  the  second,  it  is  1  -/)'.  Hence  by  formula  (12)  tho  pro- 
bability a  posteriori  of  the  first  hypothesis,  viz.,  that  the  joint 
slateinent  is  true,  is,  as  before, 

PP' 
fp'  +  {l-p){l-p')' 

31.  If  a  third  witness,  whose  cndibility  is  p",'conciirs  with"  the 
two  former,  wo  shiill  have  to  combine  />"  with  A  in  formula  (ir7)  ; 
hence  the  probability  =r'  of  the  statement  when. made  by  thioo 
witnesses  is 

rp"  ri>V'_ 


"  "„/'-Ki  -trHl  -p") ,  ?'/;/:+ (1  -?')(lZ?)(irJ>") 
and  so  on  for  any  number. 


(2a) 


'  lu-it"  Mc  mx-  n^stnnluc  llio  lrnU';icii(lcnco  of  I  lie  wllnpisrp..  If  U.  forlnsmiicp, 
were  ilisposi-d  to  follow  A'b  ftimniicnts  nr  lo  (lijisiiu  fioin  Ilicm,  re  wouM  niUiiu 
the  fcUcccBS  here  In  more  ui  k-its  iliau  { /v'^'  »n>c» 

yi\.  _  oS 


778 


PROBABILITY 


As  an  example,  let  us  find  how  many  witnesses  to  a  fact,  the  odds 
against  which  are  1,000,000,000,000  to  1,  would  be  required  to 
make  it  an  even  chance  that  the  fact  did  occur,  supposing  the 
credibility  of  each  witness  to  bep  =  ^V 

Let  X  be  the  number. 


h' 


10-^V 


10'= 


=  1  + 


12 
"log9^ 


=12-fi; 


so  that  thirteen  such  witnesses  would  render  the  chance  more  than 
an  even  one. 

32.  Let  us  now  consider  an  event  which  may  turn  out  in  more 
than  two  ways,  and  let  each  way  he  eqnally  probable  a  priori, 
and  suppose  a  witness  whose  credibility  is  ^  states  that  it  turned 
out  in  a  certain  way ;  what  is  the  chance  that  it  did  so  ? 

Thus  if  a  die  has  been  thrown,  and  he  states  that  ace  turned  up  ; 
or  if  tickets  in  a  lottery  are  numbered  1,  2,  3,  &c. ,  and  he  states 
that  1  was  drawn  ;  to  find  the  chance  that  he  is  right. 

Take  the  case  of  the  die,  and  suppose  a  great  number  N  of 
throws.  In  JN  the  ace  turns  up,  and  he  says  so  in  J^N  cases. 
In  JN  the  two  turns  up,  and  he  is  wrong  in  i(l  -J>)N  cases  out 
of  these  ;  but  he  says  ace  in  only  |  of  these,  as  there  is  no  reason 
why  he  should  give  it  more  or  less  often  than  any  of  the  five  wrong 
numbers.  In  the  same  way  for  the  other  throws  ;  so  that  the 
whole  number  of  cases  where  he  says  ace  turned  up  is 

ii^N  +  i-Kl-i-jN-iN; 

and,  the  number,  out  of  these,  when  it  actually  turned  up  being 
i^N,  we  find  ths  chance  it  did  turn  up  is  p,  the  credibility  of  the 
witness.  In  any  such  case,  this  result  will  hold.  We  might 
indeed  safely  have  argued  that  when  the  die  is  thrown  a  great 
number  of  times,  any  witness,  whatever  his  veracity,  will  quote 
each  face  as  often  as  any  other,  as  there  is  no  reason  for  one  to  turn 
up  oftener  than  another,  nor  for  him  to  affirm,  rightly  or  wrongly, 
one  rather  than  another  ;  so  that  he  will  say  ace  in  JN  of  the 
throws,  while  he  says  ace  in  J^N  out  of  the  iN  cases  where  it 
does  turn  up. 

This  result  compared  with  art.  28  affords  an  apparent  paradox. 
If  a  large  number  of  tickets  are  marked  1,0,0,0,0,0  ....  and  a 
witness  states  that  1  has  been  drawn  from  the  bag,  we  see  from 
art.  28  that  the  chance  he  is  right  is  very  small ;  whereas  if  the 
tickets  were  marked  1,2,3,4,5,6  ....  and  he  states  that  1  has  been 
drawn,  the  chance  he  is  right  is  p,  his  own  credibility.  However, 
we  must  remember  that  in  the  first  case  he  is  limited  to  two  state- 
ments, 1  and  0,  and  he  makes  the  first,  which  is  very  improbable 
in  itself;  whereas  in  the  other  case,  the  assertion  he  makes  is  in 
itself  as  probable  as  any  other  he  can  make — e.g.,  that  2  was  the 
ticket  drawn — and  therefore  our  expectation  of  its  truth  depends 
on  his  own  credibility  only. 

33.  Suppose  now  that  two  witnesses  A,  B  both  assert  that  the 
event  has  turned  out  in  a  certain  way, — there  being,  as  in  art.  32, 
71  equally  probable  ways. 

Both,  for  instance,  say  that  in  a  lottery  numbered  1,2,3,4,5  .... 
JTo.  1  has  been  drawn.  A  large  number  N  of  drawings  being 
made,  1  is  drawn  in  n"'N  cases;  out  of  these  A  says  1  in  n-'^p'S 
cases,  and  out  of  these  B  also  says  1  in  n-^pp''S.  ^No.  2  is  drawn 
in  «-'N  cases ;  here  A  is  wrong  in  »-'(!  -p)'S,  but  says  1  in  only 
(re-l)-'n-'(l -plN ;  and  B  will  also  say  1  in  (1 -y)(7i -1)-'  of 
these ;  that  is,  both  agree  that  1  has  been  drawn  in 

{n-\)-"n-\].-p){l-p)n 

cases.  So  likewise  if  No.  3  has  been  drawn,  and  so  on  ;  hence, 
when  No.  1  has  not  -been  drawn,  they  both  say  that  it  has  in 

n-J(»-l)->(l-i))Cl-/)N 

cases.  Hence  the  number  of  cases  where  they  are  right  divided 
by  the  whole  number  of  qasos  where  they  make  the  statement, 
that  is,  the  probability  that  No.  1  has  been  drawn,  is 


pp 


pp'  +  (n-\)-\l-p)a-p') 


(£9). 


If  u  be  a  large  number  the  chance  that  they  have  named  the 
ticket  drawn  is  nearly  certainty.  Thus,  if  two  independent 
witnesses  both  select  the  same  man  out  of  a  large  number,  as  the 
one  they  have  seen  commit  a  crime,  the  presumption  is  very  strong 
against  him.  Of  course,  for  the  case  to  come  under  the  above 
formula,  it  is  supposed  that  some  one  of  the  number  must  be 
guilty. 

34.  In  the  same  case,  when  the-event  may  turn  out  in  n  ways  not 
equally  probable,  as  in  a  race  between  n  horses  A,  B,  C  .  .  .  .  whose 
chances  of  winning  are  a,  6,  r  .  .  .  .,  so  that  a  +  }>  +  c+  .  .  .  =1, 
if  one  witness  whose  credibility  is  v  states  that  A  has  won,  it  is 


easily  shown  by  the  same  reasoning  as  in  art.  33  that  the   pixk 
bability  A  has  really  won  is 


ap 
'"^ap  +  (l"^)(n  -  ly-  "Tl"^) 
and  if  two  witnesses  say  so,  it  is 

app' 


(30); 


(31). 


app'  +  (\-a.){n-\)-\\-p)(l-j/y 

It  is  easily  shown  in  formula  (30)  that  if  ^>»-'  the  probability 
■a  is  increased  by  the  testimony,  beyond  a,  its  antecedent  value. 
Thus,  suppose  there  are  ten  horses  in  a  race,  and  that  one  of  them, 
A,  has  a  chance  i  of  winning,  and  that  just  after  the  race  I  learn 
that  a  black  horse  has  won,  black  being  A's  colour  ;  now,  if  I 
know  that  J-  of  racehorses  in  general  are  black,  this  gives  me  n 
new  chance  \  (see  ait.  16)  that  A  has  won.  Therefore  from  (30) 
the  chance  of  tlie  event  is  now  -ri  =  f. 

35.  To  illustrate  the  effect  of  discordant  testinioay.  In  art.  29 
let  A  have  asserted  that  the  fact  occurred,  and  let  B  deny  it.  It 
is  easy  to  see  that  1  -jj'  is  to  be  put  fory,  so  that  tea  probability 
that  it  did  occur  is 

^(1-/)  ,,„>. 

p(l~p']+p{l-p) 

if  there  had  been  an  a  priori  probability  a  in  favour  cf  the  fact  this 
would  have  been 

apa  -p') 
''-api.l-p']+p'(l-a)il-p)  ■     ■     •     ■     ^^^>- 

Thus  if  the  credit  of  both  witnesses  were  the  same,  |)=y,  and, we 
find  from  (33)  w=a,  so  that  the  evidence  has  not  iQtered  the 
likelihood  of  the  event. 

36.  Where  the  event  may  turn  out  in  n  equally  probable  ways 
as  in  art.  33,  and  the  witness  A  asserts  one  to  have  occurred,  say 
the  ticket  marked  1  to  have  been  drawn,  while  the  witness  B 
asserts  another,  say  the  ticket  marked  2  ;  to  find  the  chance  thai 
No.  1  was  dra^vn. 

By  the  same  reasoning  as  in  art.  33  we  find  for  the  cnance 

„^ P(l-P') (34) 

p{l-p')  +  {n-l)-^{l-p)(n-2+p')-     •     • 

This  result  will  also  follow  if  we  consider  B's  evidence  as  testi 
mony  in /awur  of  No.  1  of  the  value  (1  -p'){n-l)-K 
When  the  number  of  tickets  n  is  very  great,  (34)  gives 

P-PP' 


1-pp 

37.  As  remarked  in  art.  26,  the  methods  we  have  given  for  de 
termining  the  probability  of  testimony  apply  to  cases  where  the 
evidence  is  derived  from  other  sources.  Thus,  suppose  it  has  been 
found  that  a  certain  symptom  (A)  indicates  the  presence  of  a  certain 
disease  in  three  cases  out  of  four,  there  is  a  probability  J  that  any 
patient  exhibiting  the  symptom  has  the  disease.  This,  however, 
must  be  considered  in  conjunction  with  the  a  priori  probability  o( 
the  presence  of  the  disease,  if  we  wish  to  know  the  value  of  the 
evidence  deduced  from  the  symptom  being  observed.  For  instance, 
if  we  knew  that  f  of  the  whole  population  had  the  disease,  the 
evidence  would  have  no  value,  and  the  credibility  of  the  symptom 
per  se  would  be  J,  telling  us  nothing  either  way.  For  if  a  be  the 
a  priori  probability,  ct  that  after  the  evidence,  p  the  credibility  of 
the  evidence,  we  have  found 

ap 


ap  +  {l-a){l-p)' 

so  that,  if  =r=a, /)  =  i. 

If  z7  and  a  are  given,  the  credibility  |)  of  the  evidence  is  deduced 
from  this  equaHon,  viz., 

(1-aW^ 

P=  — ^ —  ■ 

a  +  -!r-'2azr 

38.  Suppose  now  the  probabOity  of  the  disease  when  the  symptom 
A  occurs  is  =r  (that  is,  it  is  observed  that  the  disease  exists  in  wN 
cases  out  of  a  large  number  N  where  the  symptom  is  found),  and 
likewise  the  same  probability  when  another  independent  symptom 
B  occurs  is  -a'.  What  is  the  probability  of  the  disease  where  botb 
symptoms  occur  ? 

Let  a  be  the  a  priori  probability  of  tne  disease  in  all  the  cases  : 
then  the  value  of  the  evidence  of  B  is,  as  explained  above, 


P  ■ 


(1  -  a)z 


a  +  w'-  2az 


and  this  has  to  be  combined  with 
the   disease  after  A  is  observed, 
required  to  be 

■srjD' 

wy'+Tl  -  w)(l 


sr,  which  is  the  probability  ot 
We  find  the  probability,  (n) 


n  = 


■PJ' 


PEOBABILITY 


(79 


.(!-")= 


whence  n-=-r "  ,  , — 7= r- ^ (35).' 

(1 -ajwTr +a{l -Br)(l  -  w)  *     ' 

Thus,  it  the  a  priori  probability  of  the  disease  in  all  the  patients 
was  -f^,  and  3  out  of  4  have  the  disease  where  A  is  observed,  and 
Also  3  out  of  4  where  13  is  observed,  the  chance  is  |^  that  the 
disease  exists  when  both  symptoms  are  present. 

This  question  illustrates  the  exceeding  delicacy  and  care  required 
in  reasoning  on  probabilities.  If  we  had  combined  the  two  given 
probabilities  in  the  usual  way  without  considering  the  a  priori 
value  (as  would  be  correct  if  this  were  quite  unknown,  or  =  i)  we 
should  have  bad 


syw'  +  (l  -t5-)(l-CT')  ■ 

The  fallacy  of  so  doing  will  appear  if  we  consider  a  large  population, 
and  a  very  uncommon  disease,  and  that  the  latter  is  observed  to 
exist  in  4  the  cases  where  the  symptom  A  occurs,  and  also  in  J 
for  the  symptom  B  ;  this  formula  would  give  4  for  the  chance  when 
both  are  present.  This  is  clearly  absurd  ;  for,  both  the  disease 
and  the  symptoms  being  by  hypothesis  extremely  rare,  and  the 
symptoms  being  independent,  that  is,  having  no  connexion  with 
each  other,  it  is  next  to  impossible  tltat  any  one  individual  of  the 
JN(A) — calling  N(A)  the  number  who  have  the  symptom  A — 
who  have  iiot  the  disease  should  also  be  comprised  in  the  4N(B) 
who  have  not  the  disease,  because  this  iN(A),  JN(B)  are  very 
small  numbers  (relatively)  taken  indiscriminately  from  the  whole 
population  who  are  free  from  the  disease.  It  is  differeut  for  the 
iN(A),  JN(B)  cases  who  have  the  disease  ;  these  cases  all  come  out 
of  the  very  small  number  N(D)  who  have  the  disease  ;  therefore 
several  individuals  will  be  probably  common  to  both  ;  hence,  if 
both  symptoms  coexist,  it  is  highly  probable  that  the  case  is  one 
of  the  disease. 
•Wd  find  from  (35)  thff  true  probability  to  bo  in  the  present  case 
n-l-o, 

so  that,  if  only  1  in  1000  have  the  disease,  the  chance  is  099  to  1, 
instead  of  an  even  one. 

39.  If  a  coin  thrown  m  times  has  turned  up  head  every  time,  the 
chance  derived  from  this  experience  alone  that  the  real  facility  for 
head  exceeds  4  is,  by  formula  (14), 


/ 


x^dx 


/:- 


■1- 


X  dx 


2">+' 


But  there  is  here  a  very  strong  a  priori  presumption  that  the  facility 
is  4  ;  suppose  then  that  there  is  a  very-small-  a  priori  probability 
{p)  that  either  in  the  coin  itself  or  the  way  it  is  thrown  there  is 
something  more  favourable  to  head  than  to  tail  ;  after  the  new 
evidence  the  probability  of  this  will  bo 

pa (2"-H-l)p 

po-  +  (l-i))(l-w)"(2"'+i-2)p  +  l  ■ 

Thns  if  there  is  an  o  priori  probability  ttJVti  ^^^  'f  t''°  ''°'"  ^^' 
turned  up  head  5  times  and  never  tail,  the  probability  that  the 
facility  for  head  exceeds  that  for  tail  becomes 


63 


60  , 

S-rnnn°<"«-ly. 


62  +  1000     1000 

40.  From  art.  19  we  see  that  if  a  large  number  of  trials  771  +  »i  be 
made  as  to  any  event,  m  being  favourable,  it  may  be  considered 
certain  that  the  real  facility  difi'ers  from  m/(m  +  »)  by  a  very  small 
fraction  at  most.  If  then  our  a  priori  idea  as  to  the  facility  gives 
it  outside  the  limits  derived  from  formula  (21),  the  evidence  from 
experience  will  overrule  our  a  priori  presumption.  Thus,  if  a 
shilling  thrown  up  1.000  times  gives  head  SCO  times  and  tail  440, 
the  evidence  thus  afforded  that  the  throws  were  not  fair  is  so  much 
stronger  than  any  antecedent  conviction  we  could  have  to  the 
(OTitrary  that  wo  may  conclude  with  certainty  that,  from  some 
cause  or  other,  head  is  more  likely  than  tail. 

•11.  Closely  allied  to  the  subject  of  our  present  section  are  the 
applications  of  the  theory  of  probabilities  to  the  verdicts  of  juries, 
the  decisions  of  courts^  and  the  results  of  elections.     Our  limits, 

'  Or  ttm»:  let  N  =  whole  population  and  n,n'  tlio  numbcra  who  »how  tho 
lymptoinB  A  and  B  respectively,  all  these  numbers  bein^  large.  Now  aN  = 
wholo  number  who  have  tho  disease;  rrn,  w'n'tho  numbcr^out  of  n,n'  who  havo 
It.  Now  wn,  z/n'  are  both  comprUcd  In  oN ;  and,  out  ot  w'"',  tho  number  also 
Inchiilcd  In  im  la  tho  same  fraction  of  mn  that  tr'n'  la  of  oN:  that  l».  tho 
number  who  haro  both  symptoms  and  tho  dlscoso  Is 
Ts'n' 

and  those  wlio  havo  both  syxoptoms  and  have  not  tho  dlacosc  Is 

(l-w)r.' 

(!-=')"  (1-„)K-  • 
•o  that,  If  both  lymptoma  are  present,  tho  odds  that  It  is  a  case  of  the  disease 


(1- 


wXIj: 

l-a 


however,  will  hardly  allow  of  even  a  sketch  of  the  methods  given 
by  Condorcet,  Laplace,  and  Poisson,  as  it  is  not  possible  to  render 
them  intelligible  within  a  short  compass.  We  must  therefore  refer 
the  reader  to  Todhunter's  History,  as  well  as  the  priginal  works  of 
these  writers,  especially  to  Poisson's  liechcrches  sur  la  Probabilili 
des  Jugements. 

42.  We  will  consider  here  one  remarkable  question  given  bj 
Laplace,  because  the  mathematical  difficulty  may  be  solved  in  a 
simpler  way  than  by  deducing  it  as  a  case  of  a  general  problem  given 
in  his  chap,  ii.,  or  than  Todhunter's  method  (see  his  p.  645),  which 
depends  on  Lejeune  Dirichlet's  theorem  in  multiple  integrals. 

An  event  (suppose  the  death  of  a  certain  person)  must  have  pro- 
ceeded from  one  ofm  causes  A,  B,  C,  kc,  and  a  tribunal  has  to 
pronounce  on  which  is  the  most  probable. 

Let  each_  member  of  the  tribunal  arrange  the  causes  in  the  order 
of  their  probability  according  to  his  judgment,  after  weighing  the 
evidence.  To  compare  the  presumption  thus  afforded  by  any  one 
judge  in  favour  of  a  specified  cause  with  that  afforded  by  the  otliei 
judges,  wo  must  assign  a  value  to  tho  probability  of  the  cause 
derived  solely  from  its  being,  say,  the  rtli  on  his  list.  As  ho  is 
supposed  to  be  unable  to  pronouiic.e  any  closer  to  the  truth  than  to 
say  (suppose)  H  is  more  likely  than  D,  D  more  likely  than  L,  &c., 
the  proDability  of  any  cause  will  bo  tlie  average  value  of  all  those 
which  that  probability  can  have,  given  simply  that  it  always 
occupies  the  same  place  on  the  list  of  the  probabilities  arranged  in 
order  of  magnitude.  As  the  sum  of  the  n  probabilities  is  always  1, 
the  question  reduces  to  this — 

Any  whole  (such  as  the  number  1)  is  divided  at'  random  into  n 
parts,  and  the  parts  are  arranged  in  tho  order  of  their  magnitude — 
least,  second,  third,  .  .  .  greatest ;  this  is  repeated  for  the  same 
whole  a  great  number  of -times  ;  required  the  mean  value  of  the 
least,  of  the  second,  &c.,  parts,  up  to  that  of  the  greatest. 

I 1-* 

Let  the  whole  in  question  be  represented  by  a  line  AB  =  a,  and  let 
it  be  divided  at  random  into  n  parts  by  taking  n-1  points  indis 
criminately  on  it.     Let  the  required  mean  values  be 

KjU,  Ajja,  \-/t  ....  \nt*, 

where  \„\j,A3  .  .  .  must  be  constant  fractions.  As  a  gi'cat  number 
of  positions  is  taken  in  AB  fi.r  each  of  the  n  poiiils,  we  may  take  n 
as  representing  that  number ;  and  the  whole  number  N  of  cases 
will  be 

N  =  a"->. 

The  sum  of  the  leasl  jiarts,  in  every  case,  will  be 

Let  a  small  increment,  Bb  —  !a,  bo  added  on  to  the  lino  AB  at  the 
end  B  ;  the  increase  in  this  sum  is  5S,  =  JiAia"-'8(i. 

But,  in  dividing  the  new  line  AA,  either  the  k  - 1  points  all  fall 
on  AB  as  befoje,  or  »-2  fall  on  AB  and  1  on  Bb  (the  cases  where 
2  or  more  fall  on  Bb  are  so  few  we  may  neglect  them).  If  all  fall 
on  AB,  tho  least  part  is  always  the  same  as  before  except  when  it 
is  the  last,  at  the  end  B  of  the  line,  and  then  it  is  greater  than 
before  by  5a  ;  as  it  falls  last  in  ?»-'  of  the  wholo  number  of  trials, 
the  increase  in  S,  is  ?t " 'a" " 'Su.  But  if  one  point  of  division  falls  on 
B6,  the  number  of  new  cases  introduced  is  (»-  l)a"--Sa  ;  but,  tho 
least  part  being  now  an  infinitesimal,  the  sum  S,  is  not  affected  ; 
we  have  therefoie 

SSj  — »i\,«""'S(i  =  »"'a"-'5a  ; 

.■.A,-»  '. 
To  find  A„  reasoning  exactly  in  the  same  way,  wo  find  that 
where  one  point  falls  on  Mb  and  n-2  on  AB,  as  the  least  (lart  is 
infinitesimal,  the  second  least  part  is  the  least  of  tho  7i-l  ports 
made  by  tho  n-2  points  ;  consequently,  if  we  put  \\  for  tho  value 
of  A,  when  there  are  ?i  -  i  parts  only,  instead  of  71, 

8S,-JtA3a''-'5a-»-»a"-'Sa  +  (ii-l)a"-«A>»a 
.-.  nK,-n-'  +  {n~  1)a',  ;  but  a', -(n-1)-*; 
•  •.  ?tA3-n-'  +  (K-l)-'. 
In  the  same  way  we  can  show  generally  that 
n\r~n-'  +  {n-\)K'r-i ; 
and  thus  the  required  mean  value  of  the  rth  part  is 
A,«-a»-'{n-'  +  (;i-l)-'  +  (it-2)-'  +  .  .  .  («-r+I)-'}. 
Thus  each  judge  implicitly  assigns  tho  probabilities 


06). 


n"  n\n     n-lj  '   n\n     Ji-1     n-'lj' 


to  tho  causes  as  they  stand  on  his  list,  beginning  from  the  lowest 
Laplace  now  says  wo  should  add  the  numbers  thus  found  on  the 
difl'ercnt  lists  for  the  cause  A,  also  for  B,  &e. ;  and  that  cause  which 
has  tho  greatest  sum  is  the  most  probable.     This  doubtless  seemed 
seUovideut  to  him,  but  ordihary  minds  >vill  hardly  be  convinced 


780 


PROBABILITY 


of  its  correctness  without  proof.  Let  the  lists  of  two  of  the  judges 
be,  beginning  from  the  lowest, 

B  ,  H  ,  R  ,  K  ,  A  .  .  .  . 

C,K,D,H,B.... 
Probabilities  Xj ,  Xj ,  ^3 ,  X4 ,  Xj  .  .  .  . 

As  the  opinions  of  all  the  juJgcs  are  supposed  of  equal  weight,  the 
cause  H  here  is  as  likely  as  the  cause  K. ;  but  the  probability  that 
H  or  K  was  the  cause  is  ' 

Hence  prob.  (H)  +  prob.  (K)  =  2  prob.  (H)  =  \2  +  \4; 
.-.  prob.  (H)  =  i(^3  +  ^J; 
that  is,  the  probability  0!  any  cause  is  the  mean  of  its  probabili- 
ties on  the  two  lists,   the  circumstance  being  clearly  immaterial 
whether  the  same  cause  K  is  found  opposite  to  it  or  not.     The 
same  follows  for  3  or  more  lists. 

43.  Laplace  applies  the  same  method  to  elections.  Suppose 
there  are  n  candidates  for  an  office  ;  each  elector  is  to  arrange  them 
in  what  he  believes  to  be  the  order  of  merit ;  and  we  have  first  to 
find  the  numerical  value  of  the  merit  he  thus  implicitly  attributes 
to  each  candidate.  Fixing  on  some  limit  a  as  the  maximum  of 
merit,  11  arbitrary  values  less  than  a  are  taken  and  then  arranged 
in  order  of  magnitude — least,  second,  third,  ....  greatest;  to  lind 
the  mean  value  of  each. 

T  I ! I 


t 
A 


B 


Talce  a  line  AB  =  a,  and  set  off  n  arbitrary  lengths  AX,  AY, 
AZ  ....  beginning  at  A  ;  that  is,  n  points  are  taken  at  random  in 

AB.  ■  Now  the  mean  values  of  AX,  XY,  YZ are  all  equal ; 

for  if  a  new  point  P  be  taken  at  random,  it, is  equally  likely  to  be 
1st,  2d,  3d,  &c.,  in  order  beginning  from  A,  because  out  of  u  +  1 
points  the  chance  of  an  assigned  one  being  1st  is  (re  +  1)"^ ;  of  its 
being.2d  (iJ  +  l)-i;  and  so  on.  But  the  chance  of  P  being  1st 
is  equal  to  the  mean  value  of  AX  divided  by  AB ;  of  its  being 
2d  M(XY)-rAB;  and  so  on.  Hence  the  mean  value  of  AX  is 
AB(7!  +  l)-i;  that  of  AY  is  2AB(?j  +  l)-i;  and  so  on.  Thus  the 
mean  merit  assigned  te  the  several  candidates  is 

a(n  +  l)-',  2a(»  +  l)-i,  3a(»  +  l)-i.  .  .  .  na(n  +  \y\ 

Thus  the  relative  merits  may  be  estimated  by  writing  under  the 
names  of  the  candidates  the  numbers  1,  2,  3,  ....  n.  The 
same  bein^  done  by  each  elector,  the  probability  will  be  in  favour 
of  the  candidate  who  has  the  greatest  sum. 

Practically  it  is  to  be  feared  that  this  plan  would  not  succeed, 
though  certainly  the  most  rational  and  logical  one  if  the  conditions 
are  fulfilled — because,  as  Laplace  observes,  not  only  are  electors 
swayed  by  many  considerations  independent  of  the  merit  of  the 
candidates,  but  they  would  often  place  low  down  in  their  list  any 
candidate  whom  they  judged  a  formidable  competitor  to  the  one 
they  preferred,  thus  giving  an  unfair  advantage  to  candidates  of 
mediocre  loerit. 

There  are,  however,  many  cases  where  such  objections  would  not 
apply,  and  therefore  where  Laplace's  method  would  be  certainly 
the  most  rational.  Thus,  suppose  a  jury  or  committee  or  board  of 
examiners  have  to  decide  on  the  relative  merit  of  a  number  of  prize 
essays,  designs  for  a  building,  &c. ;  each  member  should  place  them 
in  what  he  judges  to  bo  the  order  of  merit,  beginning,  with  the 
worst,  and  write  over  them  the  numbers  1,  2,  3,  4,  &c. ;  then  the 
relative  merit  of  each  essay, '&c.,  would 'be  represented  by  the  sum 
of  the  numbers  against  it  in  each  list.  No  doubt  there  would  be 
cases  where  a  juror  would  observe  a  great  difference  in  merit 
between  one  essay  and  the  one  below  it,  which  difl'erence  would 
not  be  adequately  rendered  by  an  excess  of  1  in  the  number.  But 
even  then,  as  such  superiority  could  not  fail  to  be  recognized  by  the 
other  members  of  the  tribunal,  it  is  not  likely  that  any  injustice 
would  result. 

44.  Au  argument  advanced  in  support  of  a  proposition  differs 
from  the  case  of  testimony  in  that,  if  the  argument  is  bad,  the 
previous  probability  of  the  conclusion  is  unaffected.  Let  jo  be  the 
a  priori  probability  of  the  proposition,  q  the  chance  that  the 
argument  is  correct ;  then,  in  a  large  number  N  of  cases,  in  jN  the 
argument  is  good,  and  therefore  the  proposition  is  true  ;  and  out 
of  the  remaining  (1-?)  N,  where  the  argument  is  bad,  there  are 
p  (1  -  9>N  cases  where  the  proposition  is  nevertheless  true.  Hence 
the  probability  of  the  conclusion  is 

p  +  q-pq. 

Hence  any  argument,  however  weak,  adds  something  to  the  force 
of  preceding  arguments. 

'  J  This  is  tlie  same  as  if  there  was  only  one  judge.  If  both  presented  all  the 
canaes  in  tlie  same  order  the  probabilities  are  the  same  as  If  there  were  one;  it 
now  one  jud^je  transposes  two  causes,  he  does  not  alter  the  chance  that  one  or 
other  of  them  is  true ;  and  apain  this  chance  solely  depends  on  the  positions  of 
the  two  causes  in  the  lists,  and  is  the  same  whatever  the  arrangements  as  to  the 
remaining  causes. 


"V.  On  Mean  Values  akd  the  Theory  of  Erroks. 

45.  The  idea  of  a  mean  or  average  among  many  diifcrinfi 
magnitudes  of  the  same  kind  is  one  continually  employed,  and  nl 
great  value.  It  gives  us  in  one  result,  easily  pictured  to  the  mind 
and  easily  remembered,  a  general  idea  of  a  uumber  of  quantities 
which  perhaps  we  have  never  seen  or  observed,  and  we  can  thus 
convey  the  same  idea  to  others,  without  giving  a  long  list  of  tho 
quantities  themselves.  We  could  scarcely  form  any  clear  concep- 
tion as  to  the  duration  of  human  life,  unless  by  taking  the  average,^ 
that  is,  finding  the  length  of  life  each  individual  would  have  it 
the  whole  sum  of  the  years  attained  by  each  were  equally  divided 
among  the  entire  population.  How,  again,  could  we  so  easily  form 
an  idea  of  the  climate  of  Rome  or  Nice  as  by  learning  the  mean  of 
the  temperatures  of  each  day  for  a  year,  or  a  series  of  years  ?  Here, 
again,  it  will  be  au  important  addition  to  the  information  to  Snd 
also  the  mean  summer  temperature  and  the  mean  in  winter,  as  we 
thus  Itarn  what  extremes  of  heat  and  cold  are  to  be  expected.  We 
may  even  go  further  and  inquire  the  diurnal  variation  in  the 
temperature  in  summer  or  in  winter  ;  and  for  this  we  should 
know  the  average  of  a  number  of  particular  cases. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  whole  value  of  statistics  depends  on  ths 
doctrine  of  averages.  The  price  of  wheat  and  of  other  commodities, 
the  increase  or  decrease  of  a  particular  crime,  the  age  of  marriages 
both  for  men  and  women,  the  amount  of  rain  at  a  given  locality, 
the  advance  of  education,  the  distribution  of  wealth,  the  spread  of 
disease,  and  numberless  otlier  subjects  for  inquiry — are  instances 
where  we  often  see  hasty  and  misleading  conclusions  drawn  from 
one  or  two  particular  cases  which  happen  to  make  an  impression, 
but  where  the  philosophical  method  bids  us  to  observe  the  results 
in  a  large  number,  and  then  to  present  them  as  summed  up  and 
represented  by  the  average  or  mean. 

46.  There  is  another  application  of  averages  of  a  different  nature 
from  the  foregoing.  Different  estimates  of  the  same  thing  are 
given  by  several  independent  authorities  :  thus  the  precise  moment 
gf  an  earthquake  is  differently  stated  by  correspondents  in  the 
papers  ;  different  heights  are  given  for  a  mountain  by  travellers ; 
or  suppose  I  have  myself  measured  the  height  of  a  building  a 
number  of  times,  never  obtaining  exactly  the  same  result.  In  all 
such  cases  (if  we  have  no  reason  to  attach  greater  weight  to  one 
result  than  to  another)  our  common  sense  tells  us  that  the  average 
of  all  the  estimates  is  more  likely  to  be  the  truth  than  any  other 
value.  In  these  cases,  as  JI.  Quetelet  remarks,  there  is  this 
important  distinction  from  the  preceding,  that  tho  mean  value 
represents  a  thing  actually  existing ;  wliereas  in  the  others  it 
merely  serves  to  give  a  kind  of  general  idea  of  a  number  of  indi- 
viduals essentially  different,  though  of  the  same  kind.  Thus  if  I 
t,ake  the  mean  of  the  heights  of  200  houses  in  a  long  street,  it  does 
not  stand  for  any  real  entity,  but  is  a  mere  ideal  height,  repre- 
senting as  nearlj'  as  possible  those  of  the  individual  houses, 
whereas,  in  taking  200  measurements  of  the  same  house,  their 
mean  is  intended  to  give,  and  will  very  nearly  give,  the  actual 
height  of  that  house. 

47.  So  far  it  is  obvious  how  to  proceea  in  such  cases ;  but  it 
becomes  a  most  important  question  in  the  theory  of  probabilities, 
to  determine  how  far  we  can  rely  on  the  mean  value  of  the  different 
observations  giving  us  the  true  magnituce  we  seek, — or  rather,  as 
we  never  can  expect  it  to  give  exactly  that  value,  to  ascertain 
with  what  probability  we  may  expect  the  error  not  to  exceed  any 
assigned  limit.  Such  is  the  inquiry  on  which  we  are  about  to 
enter. 

This  investigation  is  of  the  more  importance,  because  we  find 
what  is  really  the  same  problem  present  itself  again  under  circum- 
stances different  from  what  we  have  been  cousidering.  In  tho 
measurement  of  any  whole  by  means  of  repeated. partial  measure- 
ments— as,  for  instance,  in  measuring  a  distance  by  means  of  a 
chain — the  error  in  the  result  is  the  sum  of  all  the  partial  errors 
(with  their  proper  signs)  incurred  at  each  successive  application 
of  the  chain.  If  we  wouli  know,  then,  the  amount  of  confidence 
we  may  have  in  the  accuracy  of  the  result,  we  must  determine, 
as  well  as  we  can,  the  probability  of  the  error — that  is,  the  sum 
of  all  tilt  partial  errors — not  exceeding  assigned  limits ;  and 
to  this  end,  we  have  in  the  first  place  to  try  to  determine  the 
law  of  facility,  or  frequency,  of  different  values  of  this  sum. 
The  problem  only  differs  from  the  preceding  in  that  here  we  seek 
for  the.  facility  of  the  sum  of  the  errors ;  in  the  former,  of  the 
9^th  part  of  that  sum. 

In  both  these  cases,  we  may  reasonably  and  naturally  suppose 
that  the  error  incurred  in  each  observation,  or  each  measurement, 
follows  the  same  law  as  to  the  frequency  of  its  different  possible 
values  and  as  to  its  limits,  as  each  Is  made  by  the  same  observer, 
under  the  same  circumstances,  though  what  that  law  is  may  be 
unknown  to  us.  But  there  is  another  class  of  cases  where  the 
same  problem  presents  itself.  An  astronomical  observation  is 
made  (say)  of  the  zenith  distance  of  a  star  at  a  particular  instant ; 
the  error  in  this  determination  is  a  complex  one,  caused  by  an 
error  in  the  time,  an  error  in  the  refraction,  errors  of  tho  instrU' 


PROBABILITY 


781 


mcnt,  personal  error  of  the  obserTer,  antl  others.  The  error  of  the 
observation  is  in  fact  the  sum  of  the  partial  errors  arising  from 
these  ditferunt  sources ;  now  these  evidently  cannot  bo  taken 
each  to  follow  the  same  law,  so  that  we  have  here  a  more  general 
problem  of  tlie  same  species,  viz.  to  combine  a  number  of  partial 
errors,  each  having  its  own  law  of  facility  and  limits. 

There  is  evory  reason  to  suppose  that  the  error  incurred  in  any 
single  observation  or  measurement  of  any  kind  is  generally  due  to 
the  operation  of  a  largo  number  of  independent  sources  of  error ; 
if  we  adopt  thi.s  hypothesis,  we  have  the  same  problem  to  solve  in 
order  to  arrive  at  the  law  of  facility  of  any  single  error. 

48.  Wo  will  consider  the  question  as  put  by  Foissoii  {Rccherches, 
p.  254  ;  see  Todhunter,  Hislory,  p.  561),  and  will  adopt  a  method 
which  greatly  shortens  the  way  to  the  result 

Let  X  be  the  error  arising  from  the  combination  or  superposition 
of  a  large  numbcrof  errors  cj,  €2,(3....  each  of  which  by  itself 
is  supposed  very  small,  then 

a  =  ei  +  €,  +  c3+ (37), 

Each  partial  error  is  capable  of  a  number,  large  or  small,  of  values, 
all  small  in  themselves  ;  and  this  number  may  be  quite  dilfercnt 

for  each  error  €1    t,,  £3 There  may  be  more  positive  than 

negative,  or  less,  for  each. •  \i  n^,  n,,  n^  .  .  .  .  be  the  numbers  of 
values  of  the  several  errors,  the  number  of  different  values  of  tlie 
compound  error  x  will  be 

7Tj7l»n3    .    .    . 

We  will  suppose  it,  however,  to  take  an  indefinite  number  of 
values  N,  some  multiple  of  the  above,. so  that  the  »,,  n^,n^.  .  .  . 
different  values  are  repeated,  but  all  equally  often,  so  as  to  leave 
the  relative  facility  of  the  difl'erent  'alues  unaltered.  We  will 
suppose  the  same  number  N  of  values  in  every  case,  whether  more 
or  fewer  of  the  partial  errors  t,,  t.,,  €3  .  .  .  .  are  included  or  not 

Let  the  frequency  of  an  error  of  magnitude  x  bo  called  y,  and  let 
the  equation  expressing  the  frequency  be 

2/=/W (38); 

i.e.,  7/(fa  =  number  of  values  of  a  between  a;  and  x  +  dx. 
The  whole  number  of  values  is 


N=  f'^f{x)dx. 


whore  n,  ii  are  the  sums  of  the  higher  and  lower  limits  of  all  the 
partial  errors. 

If  now  a  new  partial  error  e  be  included  with  the  others,  let  it 

have  n  particular  values  e,  d,  e" ;  if  it  had  but  the  one 

value  e,  then  to  every  value  x  of  the  old  compound  error  would 
correspond  one  x'  of  the  new,  such  that  x  +  e  =  x  ;  and  the  number 
of  values  of  the  new  from  x"  to  a:'  +  rfx"  is  the  same  as  of  the  old  from 
X  to  x  +  dx — that  is,  /(x]dx,  or  f(x'  -e]dx'.  Now  the  next  value 
c*  gives,  besides  these,  the  tmmivt  f  {x' -  e')dx' ,  and  soon.  Thus 
the  whole  number  of  values  of  the  new  compound  error  between 
j^  and  x'  +  dii  is 

{/(x'-e)+/(»'-<:')+/(x'-e")+ jrfx-. 

Hence  the  equation  of  frequency  for  the  new  error  is  (dropping  the 
accent,  and  dividing  by  '/i— that  is,  reducing  the  total  number  of 
values  from  N«  to  N,  the  same  as  before) 


Hence 


2/  =  »->{/(x-c)+/(.T;-e')+/(x-0+  •  •  •  }  • 


(39). 


2/ -/(•») 


e  +  e  +e  + 


^^/W  +  i 


c^  +  e''  +  c"»  + 


^^/'W. 


neglecting  higher  powers  of  c,  c*.  ... 

Hence  if  a  new  partial  error  €,  whose  mean  value^a,  and  whose 
mean  square  is  A,  be  superposed  on  the  compound  error  (38)  resulting 
from  the  eombination  of  a  large  number  of  jmriial  errors,  the  ejua- 
'.ion  of  frequency  for  the  rcsultincj  error  is 

y^ff.x)  -  o/'(x)  +  *A/"(^)  -(1  -  »D  +  J\D')/(«)    •    (40)- 
It  thus  appears  that  each  of  the  small  errors  only  enters  the 
lesult  by  its  mean  value  o,  and  mean  square  A. 
If  a  second  error  were  superposed,  wo  should  Ihus  havo 
J/  =  (l-c,D  +  iA,D"-)(l  -aD  +  )iAD-)/(s;); 
.-.  2/={l-(a  +  a,)D  +  (J(A  +  A,)  +  aa,)D=}/(,c)j 
as  A  is  a  lower  infinitesimal  than  a,  we  retain  no  other  terms. 

.-.  2/-  jl-(«  +  a.)P  +  '^  +  ^'-°'-°''^^''  +  °-)D'  j/(.-r). 

Thu?  any  two  errors  enter    the  result  in  terms  of   0  +  0,  and 
^  +  V  -  a"  -  a,"  ;  as  this  l.olds  for  any  two,  it  is  easy  to  sco  that  nil 
the  partial  errors  in  (37)  enter  the  equation  of  frequency  (38)  only 
in  terms  of  m  and  h-i\  putting 
w- a, +  03  +  03+  .  .  .  —sum  of  mean  errors,  ) 

A  =  A,  +  Aj  +  A3+ .  .  .  —sum  of  mean  squares  of  errors,  >  (41). 

»  =  oj  +  Oj  +  a,  +  .  .  .  =  sum  of  squares  of  mean  errors,  ) 

_  I  An  oiTOr  may  have  all  Its  valoes  positive,  or  all  ncEatlvo.  In  csttmatlnn  the 
.nstairt  when  a  slar  crosses  tho  merlillan  wo  may  ciT  In  excess  or  defect,  but  In 
estlmntlnR  that  when  It  emerKcs  from  behind  tho  inofin,  wecan  on'v  err  111  excess. 
Wo  have  heard  this  Instance  given  hy  Clerk  Maiwcll- 


Thus,  y=/(T)— F(r,  m,  ft-i). 

Let  m  receive  an  increment  Jj;i  ;  tiiis  is  equivalent  to  superposing 
a  new  error  whose  mean  value  is  S7/1,  and  mean  square  infinitely 
smaller  (e.g.,  let  its  values  be  all  +,  or  indeeij  we  may  take  it  to 
have  but  the  single  value  5i«) ; 

•■•*2'  =  &'"= -?&"'■ ''y^^'^)= 

.    rfy dy 

dm        dx ' 
Hence  »/ is  a  function  of  x-m;  so  our  equation  must  be  of  the 
form 

j/  =  F(.T-OT,  h-i)    ......     (42). 

Let  A  receive  an  increment  Sh;  or  conceive  a  new  error  whose  mean 
value  0  =  0,  and  whose  mean  squaro  =  5A ;  we  have  (40) 


'>- 


Hence 


#^- 
.''H 


(43). 


d?y_^    _ 
dx'       dh 

Let  us  now  suppose  in  (37)  that  all  the  values  of  every  error  arc 
increased  in  the  ratio  )• ;  all  the  values  of  x  are  increased  in  the 
same  ratio ;  consequently  there  are  the  same  number  of  values  of  x 
from  Tx  to  r(x  +  dx)  as  there  were  before  from  x  to  x  +  rfx.  This 
gives 

F(x-m,  h-i)dx-='!'[r'x-rm,  r^h - i))rdx , 
for  m  is  increased  in  tlie  ratio  r,  and  h  and  i  in  the  ratio  r-. 
Let  us  ^v^ite  for  shortness 

l  =  x-m,    ii  =  h-i, 

so  that  2/  =  F({,i) (44); 

we  have  r-iF(|,  j))sF(rJ,  r"?)). 

Let  r—  1  +  CO,  where  w  is  infinitesimal  j 

(l-«)J/=F(|+a.^  v  +  2u,v); 


y-ay 


Ay      „      dy 


This  equation,  and 


di'  ■    d-n  '    ' 


(45). 
(46), 


identical  with  (43),  contain  the  solution  of  the  problem.'' 
Tims,  (45)  gives  by  integration 

y  =  ,,),-i(|2,-i) (47). 

Again,  combining  {45)  and  (46), 


d^y      dy 


0, 


m*^')-"' 


-xiv). 


Substitute  for  y  tho  value  (47);  and  we  find 

2|„-i;|,'(r,-;)  +  ?,-i^(i'„->)  =  x(i); 
that  is,  a  function  off?)"'  identical  with  a  function  of  >). 

unless  both  sides  are  constant.     Hence  ri~ 


cannot  be, 


dy , 


•dl 


Thio 
+  to  =  c- 


Now  c  =  0,  for  -j!-  vanishes  with  {,  by  (47);  und.  y  being  always 
a^ 

finite,  the  left  hand  number  vanishes  with  {  ; 

.-.  2f(4V')  +  '^({'')-')-0. 

•  •■  .^(J=7)-')-C«-^^••-'>I-'•. 

Substituting  in  (47)  and  restoring  the  values  of  |,  »j,  wa  find  tfte 

form  of  the  function  (42)  to  ho 


(r-m)' 
J/=C(;t-i)-»C— 2(A_,j. 


(48). 


C  is  a  constant  depending  on  the  number  N. 

Tho  probability  of  the  error  x  falling  between  x  and  x+rfx  is 
found  by  dividing  ydx  by  the  whole  area  of  the  curve  (48) ;  ».«,., 


(49). 


p-={2ir{,h-i))-h-ifj[Z(idx      .    . 

49.  If,  instead  of  eq.  (37),  we  had  put 

x-7,ci  +  7jc,  +  73f3+ (50), 

where  y^,  7ji  "/j.  •  .   .  are  any  numerical  factors,  tho  formula  (.,9) 
gives  the  probability  for  x,  provided  h,  i,  m  are  taken  to  bo 


m- 7,01  +  7,03 +  730,+  .  . 
•A~7?A,+7,'A,  +  7>3  +  -- 


(51), 


instead  of  tho  values  in  (41). 

50.   If  wo  take  tho  interval  of  eq.  (49),  between  any  two  limits 
H,  V,  it  gives  us  tho  probahijily  tliot  t!'o  sum  x  of  tho  errors  lies 


782 


F  fl  O  B  A  13  1  L  I  T  Y 


hftween  /n  ann  v — that  is,  that  Ike  wean  of  all  the  errors  lies  between 
Ji)--'  and  i/r-',  if  r  is  the  numbt-r  of  the  partial  errors  in  (37). 

The  most  likely  value  of  x  (that  is,  for  which  the  frequency  is 
greatest)  is  of  course  r  =  m,  ami  tiie  chance  that  a;  does  not  dillcr 
from  j/i  by  more  tiian  ±5  is 


^_.. ,.       ,,        in-i 

■m){2ih-i))-i  =  t;  :■ 


2{/i-i)  llx. 


•»;• 


In  this  iJUt  (i' 

The  limits  JAi±5  for  x  beconie±!{2(A-i)} -'  fori;  hence,  putting 
=  S{2(A-r)}-t, 


and  remembering  that    /   c    ''dt  =  2/ 


.-'- 


ue  find 


dk. 


dt 


(52) 


M(x) 
the  limits  being  db«- 


is  the  probabiliti/  that  the  sum  x  of  the  errors  in  (37)  lies  between  the 
limits  mirVsCA-i);  wis  also  the.  probability  that  the  mean  of 
nil  the  errors,  xr"'.  lies  between  the  limits 
n!--i±Tr-iV2(/t-i)  . 
51.  The  important  result  (48),  which  is  the  key  to  the  whole 
theory  of  errors,  contains  several  particular  cases  which  Laplace 
gives  in  his  fourth  chapter.  We  may  first  make  one  or  two  remarks 
on  it. 

(1)  A  -  i  is  always  positive  ;  for  in  (41) 

A]  >a5,  A2>a-,  kc, 

because  the  mean  of  the  squares  of  n  numbers  is  always  greater  than 
the  square  of  the  mean.' 

(2)  To  find  the  mean  value  M(i)  of  the  sum  x.  and  the  mean 
value  of  its  square  M(.c-'),  we  have 

-    /ydx'''^^>-  /ydx    ' 
Hence 
M(x)  =  m; 
M(x=)  =  Jn=  +  A-i. 

TlijB  first  is  obvious  from  the  fact  that  to  every  value  m  +  z  for  x 
there  corresponds  another  m-z.  Both  results  also  easily  follow 
from  common  algebra :  the  ease  is  that  of  a  sum,  a', 

x=«i  + tn  +  f3  +  ,  tie, 
whore  each  quantity  e,,  €„,  cj  .  .  .  .  goes  through  an  independent 
series  of  values  ;  and  it  is  easily  proved  that 

M(x)  =  M(€j)  +  M(ej)  +  M(€3)+  .  .  .  =2M«,; 
M(x=)  =  M(.;)  +  M(c:)  +  M(.i)+  .  .  .  +22{M(.,)M((.)} 
=  (2Me,)=-2(M€,)=  +  2M(e;). 
62.  One  particular  case  of  the  general  problem  in  art.  48  is  when 
the  errors  t],  €o,  «3  .  .  .  .  in  (37)  all  follow  exactly  the  same  law;  as, 
for  instance,  if  €[,  €3,  fj  .   .  .  .  are  the  errors  committed  in  observing 
the  same  magnitude,  under  exactly  the  same  circumstances,  a  great 
number  of  times ;  and  we  are  asked  to  find  the  chance  that  the  sum 
of  the  errors,  or  that  their  arithmetical  mean,  shall  fall  between 
given  limits.    Here  the  law  of  facility  for  each  error  is  of  course  the 
same,  though  we  may  not  know  what  it  is. 
We  have  then  from  (41) 

m  =  ro],  h  =  r\^,  i^roj, 
so  that  in  eq.  (52), 

z,=  -J-         e      dt  \ 

is  the  probability  that  the  mean-  of  all  the  errors  shall  lie  (  '  '  '' 
between  a.-^-in\l'lr-\\^  -  a.\)  ) 

a,  here  is  the  mean  of  all  the  possible  values  of  the  error  in  this  par- 
ticular observation,  which  are  of  course  infinite  in  number ;  and  (53) 
shows  us,  what  is  evident  beforehand,  that  the  more  the  number  r 
of  observations  is  increased  the  narrower  do  the  limits  for  the  mean 
error  become  lor  a  given  probability  w  ;  so  that  if,  suppose,  we  take 
T  =  3,  and  r=xi,  we  have  very  nearly  «r  =  l,  and  it  becomes 
practically  certain  that  the  mean  of  the  actual  observations  will 
differ  from  oj  by  an  infinitesimal  deviation. 

53.  What  we  have  found  hitherto  would  be  of  very  little  practi- 
cal use,  because  the  constants  involved  suppose  the  amounts  of  the 
errors  known,  and  therefore  the  true  value  known  of  the  quantity 
which  is  observed  ormeasured.  It  is,  however,  precisely  this  true 
value  which  we  usually  do  not  know  and  are  trying  to  find.  Let 
us  now  suppose  a  large  number  r  of  measurements,  which  we  will  call 

Or^ei^^  ,  .   .  Ur, 

made  cf  a  magnitude  whose  true  but  unknown  value  is  A. 

^  This  may  be  very  easily  proved  by  reasoning  precisely  analogous  to  that 
eoiployed  in  Che  note  on  article  24. 


The  (unknown)  errors  of  the  observations  will  be 

Ci  =  «!  ^  A,       Cg  =  ttg  —  A,       ^3  =  a3  —  A  .  .  .  ; 
•.  r-'(,e,+e.^+  ...  er)  =  r-^{a^  +  a„+  .  .  .  r.,)  -A  ; 
or  M(ei)  =  SI((ti)-A; 

or  the  mean  of  the  errors  is  the  error  committed  in  taking  the  mean 
of  the  observations  as  the  value  of  A. 

He[ice  (53)  zr  is  the  probability  that  the  error  committed  in  taking 
the  mean  of  the  observations  as  the  truth  shall  lie  betiaecn 

Oj ± T\/-2r-^{\i-  a]) . 
Here  a,  is  the  true  mean  of  the  errors  of  an  infinite  number  of 
observations,  Aj  the  mean  of  their  squares.  As  we  have  no  means 
of  determining  o,  (except  that  it  is  nearly  equal  to  the  mean  of  the 
errors  we  are  dealing  with,  which  would  give  us  no  result),  we  have 
to  limit  the  generality  of  the  question  by  assuming  that  the  law  of 
error  of  the  observation  gives  positive  and  negative  errors  with  equal 
facility  ;  if  so  Oi  =  0,  and  we  have  the  probability  zr  that  the  error 
lies  between 

±TV27-'Ai  . 
Here  Xj ,  which  is  the  mean  of  the  squares  of  all  possible  values  of 
the  error  of  the  observation,  will  be  at  least  very  nearly  the  mean 
snuare  of  the  actual  values  of  the  errors,  if  r  is  large  ; 
.-.  Ai  =  r-i(e;  +  e;+  ...  el); 
.-.  A'  =  r-'{(ai-A)«  +  (a,-A)«+  .  .  .  Wr-Ar)  ; 
or  A,  =  M(a;)-2AM((ti)  +  A2 

=  M(a;)-(Ma,)2+(Ma, -A)=. 
Rejecting  the  last  term,  as  the  scjnare  of  a  very  small  quaotitv, 
A,  =  M(a;)-(Ma,)«, 
and  we  have  the  probability  =r  (in  (53))  that  the  eri-or  in  taking 
the  mean  of  the  observations  as  the  truth  lies  between 

±TV27-i{M(a;)-(M«,)--'}  ....  (54), 
a  value  depending  on  the  mean  snuare,  and  mean  first  power,  of  the 
observed  values. 

These  limits  may  be  put  in  a  different  form,  rather  easier  f^r 
calculation.  If/ii/j./i-  .  . /r  be  the  07)pnren<  errors,  that  is,  no! 
the  real  ones,  but  what  they  would  be  on  the  hypothesis  that  the 
mean  is  the  true  value,  then",  putting  M  for  r''{a^  +  a^+  .  .  .  Or) . 
/,=a,-M,  /,  =  a2-M,  ...  /,.  =  a,-M; 
.-.  M(/;)  =  M(a;)-2M.  M-(-M=  =  M(a;)-(M(ti)«; 
so  that  A  =  M(/;),  and  (54)  may  be  written 

±T^/2r-^ .  (fi+fl+  .  ..fi}r-K     .     .     .     (5:. 

54.  In  the  last  article  we  have  made  no  assumption  as  to  the  la-.> 
of  frequency  of  the  error  in  the  observation  we  are  considering, 
except  that  it  gives  positive  and  negative  values  with  equal  facility. 
If,  however,  we  adopt  the  hypothesis  (see  art.  47)  that  every  error 
in  practice  arises  from  the  joiftt  operation  of  a  number  of  independ- 
ent causes,  the  partial  error  due  to  each  of  which  is  of  very  small 
importance,  then  the  process  in  art.  48  will  apply,  and  we  may  con- 
clude that  the  errors  of  every  series  of  observations  of  the  same  mag. 
nitude  made  in  the  same  circumstances  follow  the  law  of  frequency 
in  formula  (48) ;  and  if  we  suppose,  as  is  universally  done,  that 
positive  and  negative  values  are  equally  probable,  the  law  will  be 

y=Cc-h-'''''  ) 
ana  the  probability  (49)  will  be  >  •     .     .     •     (;'('■. 

p-=e'^Tr~ie"^  '     dx] 

where  c  is  a  constant,  which  is  sometimes  called  the  modulus  of  ti.c 
system. 

Every  error  in  practice,  then,  is  of  the  form  (56),  and  is  simil.ir 
to  every  other.  If  c  be  small,  the  error  has  small  amplitudes,  ai;u 
the  series  of  observations  a're  accurate. 

If,  as  supposed  in  art.  53,  a  set  of  observations  have  been  made, 
we  can  determine  the  modulus  c,  with  an  accuracy  increasing  with 
the  number  in  the  set.     For  (art.  51) 

Jc-  — true  mean  square  of  all  possible  values  of  the  error.' 

This  we  have  called  Aj  in  last  article,  and  have  shown  it  near>- 
equal  to  M(a,=)  -  (Maj)'  or  U(fj^) ;  so  that 

ie-  =  mean  square  of  obs.  -  (mean  of  obs. )'  =  mean  square  of  apparei. : 
errors. 

55.  Thus,  it  a  set  of  observations  have  been  made;  and  c  thj^ 
determined  from  them,  it  is  easy  to  see  that 

Mean  error  =  ±cir-'  =  0'5642c  ) 

Mean  square  of  error  — ^c  >  ■     .     .     .     (57. 

Probable  error  =  ±  0  •  4  7  69(;         ) 

The  mean  error  means  that  of  all  the  positive  or  all  tlie  negative 
errors.  The  probable  error  is  the  value  which  half  the  errors  exceed 
and  half  fall  short  of,  so  that  it  is  an  even  chance  that  the  error  of 
any  particular  observation  lies  between  the  limits  ±0'4769c.  Its 
value  is  found  from  the  table  in  art.  9,  taking  I  =  i. 

56.  We  have  often  to  consider  the  law  of  error  of  the  sum  1 1 


PROBABILITY 


f83 


ocveral  magnituJes,  cadi  of  wliicli  has  been  ilctermined  by  a  set  of 
cbservations.  Suppose  A  ami  B  two  such  magnitudes,  and  X  their 
sum,  to  find  the  law  of  error  in 

X  =  A  +  B. 

Let  the  functions  of  error  for  A  and  B  be 

c-i-r-k  '"-'dx,    f-'iT-ic-''/'dx. 

In  formula  (49)  lift  m  =  o,  i  =  o,  Ih^c' ;  then  the  function  for  A 
is  the  law  for  the  sum  of  a  number  of  errors  (37)  the  sum  of  whose 
mean  squares  is  h  =  \c- ;  likewise  that  for  B  is  the  law  for  the  sum 
of  a  number  the  sum  of  whose  mean  squares  is  i/' ;  the  same 
formula  (49)  shows  us  that  the  law  for  the  sum  of  these  two  series 
of  errors— tliat  is,  for  the  sum  of  the  errors  of  A  and  B— is 

( ir(c2 +/2) )-*«-"(<•+/!) -'rfj;  ; 
that  is,  the  modulus  for  X  or  A  +  B  is 

\/'^Tp  

Hence  ProbaMe  error  of  X  =  ■i~69\/c-  +p 

.-.  (p.e.  ofX)'-(p.e.  of  A)'  +  (p.e.  of  B)' .     .     .     (58). 
So  likewise  for  the  mean  error. 

If  X  were  the  difierence  A  -  B,  (5S)  still  holds. 
If  X  be  the  sum  of  m  magnitudes  A,  B,  C  .   .   .  instead  of  two, 
its  probable  error  is  in  like  manner 

(p.e.  X)-  =  (p.e.  A)=  +  (p.e.  B)'  +  ,  &c.; 
and  if  the  function  of  error  for  A,  B,  C  .  .  .be  the  same  for  all 

(p.e.  X)^  =  m(p.e.  A)'. 
Also  the  probable  error  in  the  mean 

M(A)  =  m-i(A  +  B  +  C+  .  .  .) 
is  the  mth  part  of  the  above  ; 

.-.  p.e.  ofM(A)  =  m-l(p.e.  ofA)     .     .     .     (59). 

Airy  gives  the  following  example.     The  co-latitude  of  a  place  is 
found  by  observing  m  times  the  Z. D.  of  a  star  at  its  upper  cul- 
mination and  n  times  its  Z.D.  at  its  lower  culmination  ;  to  find 
the  probable  error. 
By  (59) 

p.e.  upper  Z.D.  ■=  to -'(p.e.  of  an  upper  obs.)  ; 
p.e.  lower  Z.D.  =  «-'( p.e.  of  a  lower  obs. )  ; 
Now  co-latitude  =  i(U. Z.D.  -t-L. Z.D. ). 

Hence  (58) 

(p.a  co-lat.)'  =  4m-'(p.e.  up.  obs.)2-f  jK-'(p.e.  low.  obs.)'. 
If  the  upper  Z.D.  observations  are  equally  good  with  the  lower, 
p.e.  co-lat.  =  J(p.e.  an  obs. )\y7n-' -)-»-' . 
67.  The  magnitude  to  be  found  is  often  not  observed  directly, 
but  another  magnitude  of  which  it  is  some  function.     Let  A  =  true 
,      but  unknown  value  of  a  quantity  depending  on  another  whose  true 
unknown  value  is  a,  by  the  given  function 

A=/(a)  ; 
let  an  observed   value  for  a  be  v,  the  corresponding  value  for  A 
being  V,  then 

V  =/(»>). 
Let  €  =  error  of  v,  then^the  error  of  V  is 

V-A=/(a■^e)-/(a)  =  ^'(l.)      .     .     .  (60), 

as  »  is  nearly  equal  to  a. 

Suppose  now  the  same  magnitude  A  also  a  given  function /,(a,) 
of  a  second  magnitude  n,,  whicli  is  also  observed  and  found  to  be 
», ;  also  for  a  third,  and  so  on  ;  hence,  writing  C=f'  (v),  C,  =/i(f,), 
&c. 

V-A=./'(u).f  =  Ce         ) 

V, -A -/',(!;,)  «,  =  C,f,[ (61); 

and  we  have  to  judge  of  the  best  value  for  the  unknown  quantity, 
whose  true  value  is  called  A.  The  arithmetical  mean  of  V,V„V, 
.  .  .  seems  the  sitnplest,  but  it  is  not  here  the  most  probable,  and 
we  shall  assume  it  to  bo  a  different  mean,  viz., 

y_mV-i-TO|Yi-(-7n,V„-l-  .  .  . 
m -f  m,  -I- TOj -f  .  .  . 
(As  V,V,,V,  ....  are  very  nearly  equal,  it  would  be  easy  to 
show  that  any  other  way  of  combining  them  would  be  equivalent 
to  this.)    The  factors  in,  m„  ?«,  .  .  .  .  remain  to  be  determined. 
From  (61)  the  error  of  X  is 

y.     ^_wCt-t-m,C,t,  +  TO,C,f.-f  ■  ■  ■ 
m-f7n., -^TO3-^  .  .  . 


Let  tlie  moduli  of  the  errors  «,e„€. 


.  .  be  c.Ci.c, 


.  (see 


ij-i,    i,.ii;   luuuuii  ui    mo  uiiura  t,ti,f^   ....    DO  C,Ci,C,  ....   (SCO 
art  56) ;   then  (see  art.  49)  for  modulus  of  the  error  X  -  A  wo  have 

(mod.)»-!!^!C!^IC!c]^±<ei£l+^-^ 
If  the  factors  mm,nij  ...  are  determined  so  us  to   make   this 


modulus  the  least  possible,  the  importance  of  the  error  X  -  A  is  the 

least  possible. 

Dill'erentiate  with  regard  to  in,  and  we  find 

„„  ,    m-C-c- +  m-C:c- +  ... 

mC-r  = —^- 

m  +  mj  +  m.2+  .  .  . 

Likewise  for  OTj,  and  so  on.     Hence 

nC-c-  =  m,Clc]  =  m^Clc:  =  ,  ic. ; 

so  that  the  most  accurate  mean  to  take  is 

V        V,       V„ 


X  = 


-  -i -i '    + 

c-c'  c]c:   ctcj   • 
111 

y^'c     '-'i'm         3  2 


The  modulus  of  error  in  this  value  is,  from  (63), 

1       _L  ,  _L  ,  J_ 

(mod.)»°C-c-    C;c;     Cjc^"*"  •  ' 


my. 


(C5). 


(V-X)'    (V,-X)'    (V,-X)' 


58.  The  errors  (,(^,(.2  ■  •  •  ■  are  unknown.  We  have  as- to  the 
first 

V-A  =  6/'(t!)  =  (v-ff)/'("). 
Let  tlie  values  of  the   quantities  observed  corresponding   to   the 
value  X  for  that  sought  be  x,  x,,  Zj  .  .  . 
so  that  X=/{x)^/i{x,)=/,{x^)  .... 

then  X-A  =  (a:-a)/'(i.-)  ; 

and,  subtracting,    V  -  X  =  (j)  -  x)/'{v)  =  {v-  x)C . 
Here  V-X  is  the  apparent  error  in  V,  ii-a;  the  apparent  error  of 
the  observation  v,  taking  X,  x  as  the  true  values. 

Of  course  we  have  also 

V,-X  =  (v,-.r,)C,,     V3-X  =  (v2-ig)Cj,  .... 

If  now  we  were  lo  determine  X  so  as  to  render  the  sum  of  squares 
of  apparent  errors  of  the  observations,  caeh  divided  by  the  square  uf 
its  modulus,  a  minimum, — that  is, 

a  minimum, — we  shall  find  the  same  value  (64)  for  X. 

Of  course  if  the  modulus  is  the  same  for  all  the  observations  the 
sum  of  squares  simply  is  to  be  made  a  minimum. 

To  take  a  very  simjde  instance.  An  observed  value  of  a  quantity 
is  P  ;  an  observed  value  of  a  quantity  known  to  be  the  square  root 
of  the  former  is  Q  ;  what  is  the  most  probable  value  ? 

If  X  be  taken  for  the  quantity,  the  apparent  error  of  P  is  P-X  ; 
the  apparent  error  of  Q  is  found  from 
(Q-<;)^  =  X; 
.-.  c  =  (Q»-.X)/2Q; 
.-.  (P-X)=-KQ=i-X)74Q=  =  minimum, 
.-.  X  =  (4P-H)Q-V(4Q=-fl); 
the  weight  of  both  observations  being  supposed  the  same. 

Again,  suppose  a  circle  is  divided  by  a  diameter  into  two  semi- 
circles ;  the  whole  circumference  is  measured  and  found  to  be  L ; 
also  the  two  semicircles  are  found  to  be  JI  and  N  resuectively. 
What  is  the  most  probable  value  oJ'  the  circumference  ? 

If  X  be  taken  as  the  circumference,  the  apparent  error  in  L  is 
L-X  ;  those  of  M  and  N  are  M-JX,  N-i.X.  Hence,  if  all  the 
measurements  are  equally  good, 

(L-X)=-KM-*X)--f(N-JX)5  =  miuimum, 
.•.x"=i(M-fN-f2L) 
is  the  most  probable  value. 
The  modulus  of  error  of  this  result  is  (65)  found  to  be 
(mod.)'-'  =  J(niod.  of  measurements)' 
so  that 

probable  error  =  (prob.  error  of  a  measurement)  VS  ■ 
59.   In  the  last  article  we  have  explained  the  method  of  least 
squares,  as  applied  to  determine  one  unknown  element  from  more 
tlian  one  observation  of  the  element  itself  or  of  others  with  which 
it  is   connected  by  known    laws.     If  several  observations  of  the 
element  itself  are  made,  it  is  obvinus   that  the  method  of  least 
squares  gives  the  arithmetical  mean  of  the  observations  as  the  best 
value,  thus  justifying  what  common  sense  seems  to  imlicatc.     If 
the  observations  are  cot  equally  good,  the  best  value  will  be 
_     w\  +  WiVi  +  w,'V,+  ■  .  . 
lO-Ho, -HCj-H  .  .  . 
calling  w,  to,,  w„  .  .  .  tho  weights  of  the  different  observations 
V,V,,  Vj  .... 
I.e.,  to-c"',  «!,  — Cj-',  ujj-c,-',  ki^. 

It  would  carry  us  beyond  our  assigned  limits  in  this  article  to 
attempt  to  demonstrate  and  explain  tho  method  of  least  squares 
when  several  elements  liavo  to  bo  determined  from  a  number  of 
observations  exceeding  the  elements  in  number.  We  must  there- 
foro  refer  the  reader  to  tho  works  already  named,  and  also  to  the 
following: — Gauss,  Thcoria  Combinalionis  Ubservaliemum  ;  Gauss, 
Theoria  Molus\  Airy,  Theory  of  Errors  of  Observalum;  Leblio 
Ellis,  iu  Camb.  Phil.  Trans.,  vol.  viii. 


784 


PROBABILITY 


The  rule  in  such  cases  is  that  the  sura  of  squares  of  the  apparent 
errors  is  to  be  made  a  miuimum,  as  in  the  case  of  a  single  element. 
To  take  a  very  simple  example  : — 

\  substance  is  weighed,  and  the  weight  is  found  to  be  W.  It  is 
then  divided  into  two  portions,  whose  weights  are  found  to  be  P 
and  Q.     'VHiat  is  the  most  probable  weight  of  the  body  ? 

Taking  A  and  B  as  the  weights  of  the  two  portions,  "the  apparent 
«rfor8  are  P  -  A,  Q  -  B,  and  that  of  the  whole  is  W  -  A  -  B ;  henco 

(P_A)!'  +  (Q-B)?  +  (W-A— B)2=minimuin 
there  being  two  independent  variables  A,  B. 

P-A  +  W-A-B  =  0; 
Q_B  +  W-A-B  =  0  ; 
ot  2A  +  B  =  P  +  "W 

2B  +  A  =  Q  +  W 
A  +  B  =  J(P  +  Q  +  2W)  ; 
A  =  J(2P  +  W-Q); 
B  =  J(2Q  +  W-P); 
which  are  the  most  probable  weights  of  the  whole  and  the  two 
parts. 

VI.  Oh  Local  Pkobabilitt. 

60.  It  remains  to  give  a  brief  account  of  the  methods  of  deter- 
mining the  probabilities  of  the  fulfilment  of  given  conditions  by 
variable  geometrical  magnitudes,  as  well  as  the  mean  values  of 
such  magnitudes.  Keccnt  researches  ou  this  subject  have  led  to 
many  very  remarkable  results ;  and  we  may  observe  that  to 
English  mathematicians  the  credit  almost  exclusively  belongs.  It 
is  a  new  instance,  added  to  not  a  few  which  have  gone  before,  of  a 
revival  for  which  we  have  to  thauk  the  eminent  men  who  during 
the  19th  century  have  enabled  the  country  of  Newton  to  take  a 
place  less  unworthy  of  her  in  the  world  of  mathematical  science. 

At  present  the  investigations .  on  this  subject  have  not  gone 
beyond  the  theoretical  stage  ;  but  they  should  not  be  undervalued 
on  this  account.  The  history  of  the  theory  of  probabilities  lias 
sufficiently  shown  that  what  at  first  seems  merely  ingenious  and  a 
matter  of  curiosity  may  turn  out  to  have  valuable  applications  to 
practical  questions.  How  little  could  Pascal,  James  Bernoulli, 
and  De  Moivre  have  anticipated  the  future  of  the  science  wliich 
they  were  engaged  in  creating  ? 

61.  The  great  naturalist  Buffon  was  the  first  who  proposed  and 
solved  a  question  of  this  description.     It  was  the  following  : — 

A  floor  is  rnled  with  equidistant  parallel  lines ;  a  rod,  shorter 
than  the  distance  between  each  pair,  being  thrown  at  random  on 
the  floor,  to  find  the  chance  of  its  falling  on  one  of  the  lines. 

Let  X  be  the  distance  of  the  centre  of  the  rod  from  the  nearest 
line,  6  the  inclination  of  the  rod  to  a  perpendicular  to  the  parallels, 
2a  the  common  distance  of  the  parallels,  2c  the  length  of  rod ;  then, 
as  all  values  of  x  and  e  between  their  extreme  limits  are  equally 
probable,  the  whole  number  of  cases  will  be  represented  by 


m 


dzdO'-ita. 


Now  if  the  rod  crosses  one  of  the  lines  we  most  Lave  c^  — j ; 

•^  C039 

that  the  favourable  cases  will  be  measured  by 


/.:-/' 


cos  9  . 


<&■=&. 


Thus  the  probability  required  is  p  =  2c/ita. 

Laplace  in  solving  this  question  suggests  that  by  making  a 
great  number  of  trials,  and  counting  the  cases  where  the  rod  falls 
on  a  line,  we  could  determine  the  value  of  ir  from  this  result  Ho 
further  considers,  for  a  given  value  of  a,  what  length  2c  should  be 
chosen  for  the  rod  so  as  to  give  the  least  chance  of  error  in  a 
given  large  number  N  of  throws. 

In  art.  8  we  have  shown  that  the  chance  that  the  number  of 
successes  shall  lie  between  fiN±r  is 


V'r, 


U 


~-^<&. 


^^'^  ''°=2i;(l-i,)N  • 

For  a  given  probability  =r,  ra  is  given.  We  have  then  a  given 
chance  that  the  number  of  successes  shall  differ  from  its  most  pro- 
bable value  p'S  by  an  error  r  which  is  the  least  possible  fraction  of 
the  latter  when  r/pS,  or  when  1/a^N,  or  when  VP(1  -p)/P  ^  tli9 
least  possible;    that  is,    when  p-^-l  =  ra/2c-l^  is    the   least 

^  If  S  =  number  of  enccesses,  ve  hare  an  asslfoied  chance  ^r  that  S  Ue3 

between  ^N±r;  that  ia,  the  value  of  ir  lies  between cnip*  *^^ — ('s'isz/* 

Hence  the  error  In  »  Is  least  when  2cr/S2  Is  lea^t  Now  f^^/pQ■—p),  2cccp,  and 
Seecp  nearly ;  hence  Vpi^—PK'P  Is  to  be  the  least  possible. 


possible,  or  when  c  is  the  greatest  possible.  Now  ttio  greatest 
value  of  c  is  a  ;  the  rod  theielbre  should  be  equal  to  the  distance 
between  the  lines. 

Laplace's  answer  is  incorrect,  though  originally  given  right, 
(see  Todhunter,  p.  591  ;  also  Czuber,  p.  90). 

62.  Questions  ou  local  probability  and  mean  values  are  of  course 
reducible,  by  the  employment  of  Cartesian  or  other  coordinates, 
to  multiple  integrals.  Thus  any  one  relating  to  the  'position  of 
two  variable  points,  by  introducing  their  coordinates,  can  be  made 
to  depend  on  quadruple  integrals, — whether  in  finding  the  .sum  of 
the  values  of  a  given  function  of  the  coordinates,  with  a  view  to 
obtaining  its  mean  value,  or  in  finding  the  number  of  the  favour- 
able cases,  when  a  probability  is  sought.  The  intricacy  ami 
difficulty  to  be  encountered  in  dealing  with  such  multiple  integrals 
and  their  limits  is  so  great  that  little  success  could  be  expected  in 
attacking  such  questions  directly  by  this  method  ;  and  most  of 
what  has  been  done  in  the  matter  consists  in  turning  the  difficulty 
by  various  considerations,  and  arriving  at  the  result  by  evading 
or  simplifying  the  integrations.  We  have  a  certain  analogy  here 
in.  the  variety  of  contrivances  and  artifices  used  in  arriving  at  the 
values  of  definite  integrals  without  performing  the  integrations. 
We  will  now  select  a  few  of  such  questions.  •' 

63.  If  a  given  space  S  is  included  within  a  given  space  A,  the 
chance  of  a  noint  P,  taken  at  random  on  A,  falling  on  S,  is 

;>=S/A. 
But  if  the  space  S  be  variable,  and  M(S)  be  its  mean  vaUie"" 

;'  =  M(S)/A (66). 

For,  if  we  6uppo?3  S  to  have  n  equally  probable  values  S,,  S.j, 
Sj  .  .  .  .,  the  chance  of  any  one  Sj  being  taken,  and  of  P  falliii" 
on  S],  is 

Pi  =  n-iS,/A; 
now  the  whole  probability  p-=Pi+Pi+l>3+   ■  •  ■,  which  leads  at; 
once  to  the  above  expression. 
The  chance  of  two  poiute  falling  on  S  is,  in  the  same  way, 

i.  =  M(S2)/A2 (67); 

and  so  on. 

In  such  a  case,  if  the  probability  be  known,  the  mean  value 
follows,  and  vice  versa.  Th>:s,  we  might  find  the  menu  value  of 
the  mth  power  of  the  distance  XY  between  two  points  taken  at 
random  in  a  line  of  length  !,  by  considering  the  chance  that,  if  n 
more  points  are  so  taken,  they  shall  aU  fall  between  X  and  Y. 
This  chance  is 

M(XY)"/Z"=2(7H-l)-i(n-+2)-> ; 

for  the  chance  that  X  shall  be  one  of  the  extreme  points,  out  of 
the  whole  (n  +  2),  is  2(n-f2)-' ;  and,  if  it  is,  the  chance  that  the 
other  extreme  point  is  Y  is  (re-H)-'.     Therefore 

M(XY)» = 2l"{n  H-l )  - 1(«  -I-  2)  - 1 . 

64.  A  line  I  is  divided  into  n  segments  by  n- 1  points  taken  at 

random  ;  to  find  the  mean  value  of  the  product  of  the  n  segments. 

Let  a,  b,  c,  ,  .  .  be  the  segments  in  one  particular  case.     If  Ji 

new  points  are  taken  at  random  in  the  line,  the  chance  that  one 

falls  on  each  segment  is 

1.2.3  .  .  .  naoc.  .  .  /l"  ; 
hence  the  chance  that  this  occurs,  however  the  line  is  divided,  is 
Inl-'Uiabc.  .  .  )  . 

Now  the  whole  number  of  different  orders  in  which  the  whole 
_2;i-l  points  may  occur  is  |2?i-l  ;  out  of  these  the  number  in 
which  one  of  the  first  series  falls  between  every  two  of  the  second 
is  easily  found  by  the  theory  of  permutations  to  be 

I »  |»i-l . 
Hence  the  required  mpan  value  of  the  product  is 

-  I '«  - 1 
M(.Jc...)  =  =^^K 


65.  If  M  be  the  mean  value  of  any  quantity  depending  on  the 
positions  of  two  points  (e.g.,  their  distance)  which  are  taken,  one 
in  a  space  A,  the  other  in  a  space  B  (external  to  A) ;  and  if  11'  bo 
the  same  mean  when  both  points  are  taken  indiscriminately  in  the 
whole  space  A  +  B  ;  Mo,  lU  the  same  mean  when  both  points  arft 
taken  in  A  and  both  in  B  respectively  ;  then 

(A  -t-  B)''M' = 2ABM  +  A=Ma  •*•  B-Mt . 
If  the  space  A-=B, 

4M' =211-)- Ma -I- Ms; 
if,  also.  Ma  =  M6, 

2M'=M-(-M„. 

66.  The  mean  distance  of  a  point  P  within  a  given  area  from  a 
fixed  straight  line  (which  does  not  meet  the  area)  is  evidently  the 
distance  of  the  centre  of  gravity  G  of  the  area  from  the  line.  Thus, 
if  A,  B  are  two  fixed  points  on  a  line  outside  the  area,  the  mean 
value  of  the  area  of  the  triangle  APB  =  the  triangle  AGB. 

From  this  it  will  follow  that,  if  X,  Y,  Z  are  three  points  taken 
at  random  in  three  given  spaces  on  a  plane  (such  that  they  cannot 


P  11  0  B  A  B  I  L  i  T  Y 


785 


»ll  be  cut  by  any  one  straight  line),  tlie  mean  value  of  the  area  of 
the  triangle  XYZ  is  the  triangle  GG'G",  determined  by  the  three 
centres  of  gravity  of  the  spaces.     For  example — 

Two  points  X,  Y  are  taken  at  random  within  a  triangle.  WTiat 
is  the  mean  area  M  of  the  triangle  XYC,  formed  by  joining  them 
with  one  of  the  angles  of  the  triangle  ! 

Bisect  the  triangle  by  the  line  CD  ;  let  M,  be  the  mean  value 
when  both  points  fall  in  the  triangle  ACD,  and  M,  the  value  when 
one  falls  in  ACD  and  the  other  in  BCD;  then  2M  =  i[,  +  Mj. 
But  Mi  =  iM;  and  Mj-GG'C,  where  G,  G'  are  the  centres  of 
gravity  of  ACD,  BCD,  this  being  a  case  of  the  above  theorem; 

M  =  7fABC. 

Hence  tlie  chance  that  a  new  point  Z  falls  on  the  triangle  XY'C 
is  iV  ;  and  the  chance  that  three  points  X,Y,Z  taken  at  random 
form,  with  a  verte.x  C,  a  re-entrant  quadrilateral,  is  J. 

67.  If  M  be  a  mean  value  depending  on  the  positions  of  n  points 
falling  on  a  space  A  ;  and  if  this  space  receive  a  small  increment 
a,  and  M'  be  the  same  mean  when  the  n  points  are  taken  on  A  +  o, 
and  M,  the  same  mean  when  one  point  falls  on  a  and  the  remaining 
«-  i  on  A  ;  then,  the  sum  of  all  the  cases  being  jr(A  +  a)",  and 
this  sum  consisting  of  the  cases  (1)  when  all  the  points  are  on  A, 
(2)  when  one  is  on  o  the  others  on  A  (as  we  may  neglect  all  where 
two  or  more  fall  on  a),  we  have 

M'(A+  o)''=MA"  +  HjrioA"-'.; 

.-.  (M'-M)A  =  noCMi-M) (68), 

as  M'  nearly  =  M. 

As  an  example,  suppose  two  points  X,  Y  are  taken  in  a  line  of 
length  I,  to  find  the  mean  value  M  of  (XY)",  as  in  art.  63. 
If  I  receives  an  increment  dl,  formula  (68)  gives 

ZrfM  =  2rf/(Mi-M). 
Now  M,  here  =  the  mean  Tith  power  of  the  distance  of  a  single 
point  taken  at  random  in  I  from  one  extremity  of  I ;  and  this  is 
{"(n  +  l)-^  (as  is  shown  by  finding  the  Chance  of  n  other  points 
falling  on  that  distance)  ;  hence 

ZrfM  =  2rf;(i''(!H-l)-i-M); 
.-.  ?rfjr  +  2M(«  =  2(7i  +  l)-yv;, 
or  l-Kd.UP^oin  +  l)-^^; 

.-.  Mi«  =  2(n-l-l)-i/Z"+W  =  2Z"+=(»i  +  l)-'("  +  2)-»  +  C  ; 
.-.  M-2Z''(«  +  ])-i(?H-2)-i, 

a-s  in  art.  63,  C  be  ng  evidently  0. 

68.  Up  is  the  probability  of  a  certain  condition  being  satisfied 
by  the  n  points  within  A  in  art.  67,  p'  the  same  probability  when 
they  fall  on  the  space  A  +  a,  and  p,  the  same  when  one  point  falls 
on  a  and  the  rest  on  A,  then,  since  the  numbers  of  favourable  cases 
•re  respectively  y(A  +  o)'',  i)A",  iipiaA"-^,  wo  find 

{p'-p)&.  =  na{Pi-p) (69). 

Hence  if  p'—^  then  p^^p•,  this  result  is  often  of  great  value. 
Thus  if  wo  have  to  find  the  chance  of  three  points  within  a  circle 
forming  an  acute-angled  triangle,  by  adding  an  infinitesimal  con- 
centric ring  to  the  circle,  we  have  evidently  ]>'  —p  ;  hence  the 
required  chance  is  unaltered  by  assuming  one  of  the  three  points 
taken  on  the  circumference. 

Again,  in  finding  the  chance  that  four  points  withfn  a  triangle 
shall  form  a  convex  quadrilateral,  adding  to  the  triangle  a  small 
band  between  the  base  and  a  line  parallel  to  it,  the  chance  is 
clearly  unaltered.  Therefore  by  (69)  we  may  take  one  of  the  points 
at  random  in  the  base  of  the  triangle  without  altering  the  pro- 
bability. 

69.  Historically,  it  would  seem  that  the  first  question  given  on 
loc.il  probability,  since  BuJfon,  was  the  remarkable  four-point 
uroblem  of  Prof.  Sylvester.  It  is,  in  general,  to  find  the  pro- 
oability  that  four  points  taken  at  random  within  a  given  boundary 
shall  form  a  re-entrant  quad- 
rilateral. It  is  easy  to  see 
that  this  problem  is  identical 
with  the  problem  of  finding 
the  mean  area  of  the  triangle 
formed  by  three  points  taken 
at  random  ;  for,  if  M  be  this 
mean,  and  A  the  given  area, 
the  chance  of  a  fourth  point 
falling  on  the  triangle  is 
M/A  ;  and  the  chance  of  a 
re-entrant  quadrilateral  is 
four  timcs-this,  or  4M/A.  „. 

Lot    the    four   points    bo  '^' 

taken  within  a  triangle.  Wo  may  take  one  of  them  W  (fig.  3)  at 
random  on  the  base  (art.  68) ;  the  others  X,  Y,  Z  williin  the 
triangle.  Now  the  four  lines  from  the  vertex  B  to  the  four  points 
are  ns  likely  to  occur  in  any  specified  order  as  any  other,  llenco 
it  is  an  even  chance  that  X,  Y,  Z  fall  on  ono  of  the  trianfjlis 
ABW,  CBW,  or  that  two  fall  on  ono  of  these  triangles  and  the 


3. 


remaining  one  on  the  other.     Henco  the  probabflity  of  a  re-entrant 

quadrilateral  is 

iPi  +  iP-2, 
where  J5, - prob.  (WXYZ  re-entrant),  X,Y',Z  in  one  triangle  ; 

p^=  do.,  X  in  one  triangle,  Y  in  the 

other,  Z  in  either. 

But  p,-J  (art  66).  Now  to  find  p.^;  the  chance  of  Z  falling 
within  the  triangle  WXY  is  the  mean  area  of  WXY  divided  by 
ABC.  Now  by  the  principle  in  art  66,  for  any  particular  position 
of  \V,  M(\VXY)  =  WGG',  where  G,  G'  are  the  centres  of  gravity  of 
ABW,  CBW.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  'WGG'- JABC- J,  putting 
ABC  =  1.  Now,  if  Z  falls  in  CBW,  the  chance  of  WXYZ  re- 
entrant is  2M(1YW),  for  Y  is  as  likely  to  fall  in  WXZ  as  Z  to  fall 
in  WXY;  also  if  Z  falls  in  ABW  the  chance  of  WXYZ  re-entraut  is 
2M(IXW).     Thus  the  whole  chance  i3p,  =  2iM(IYW-f  IXW)  =  J. 

Hence  the  probability  ^f  a  re-entrant  quadrilateral  is 

That  of  its  being  convex  is  ?. 

70.  If  three  points  X,  Y,  Z  are  taken  at  random  in  a  tiiangle,  the 
mean  value  of  the  triangle  XYZ  =  -i'5ot  the  given  triangle.  For 
we  have  seen  that  the  chance  of  four  points  forming  a  re-entrant 
figure  is  4M/A,  where  M  is  the  required  mean  and  A  the  given 
triangle  ;  as  this  has  been  shown  to  be  J, 

M  =  J5A. 

71.  Let  the  three  points  be  taken  within  a  circle;  and  let  M  bo 
the  mean  value  of  the  triangle  formed.     Adding  a  concentric  ring  c, 

A-t-a, 


we  have  (68)  since  M':M  as  the  areas  of  the  circles,  11'- 


-M. 


AjM  =  3a(jr,- 


M) 


M  =  iM,, 


where  Mj  is  the  value  of  M  when  one  of  the  points  is  on  the 
circumference. 

Take  0  fixed  ;  we  have  to  find  the  mean  value  of  OXY  (fig.  4). 
Taking  (p,  6}  (p',  6')  as  coordinates  of  X,  Y, 

Ml  =  {wa"-)  -  Y/pdpdef/p'dp'de'.  (OXY ) . 

.  • .  Ml = (ir'a*)  -  y/f/ipp  siu  (9  -  e')pp'dpdp'dede' 

=  iit"-a>)  - '.  \ff\r\"^.  sin  (9  -  6')d9d&' , 
puttingr  =  OH,  r'=OK  ;  asr  =  2asine,  r'  =  2rtsine', 

M,  =  -L  .  ^—  /V"*sin'9sin'fl'sin(9-fl')(?9rffl'. 
'     ■rra''        Q   Jo  Jo 
P-ofes3or  Sylvester  has  remarked   that  this  double  integral,  by 
means  of  the  theorem 

/""/'/(•«,  y)<ixd!j  =  f''f''f{a  -y,a-  x)dxd!/ , 

Jo  Jo  yo  Jo 

is  easily  shown  to  be  identical  with 

2  /'y"'8in<ff8in'e'cose'dBd9'-i/^'6in'«rf9  =  J^7j7^g»'. 
„      35a'        .    .,      35      . 

Hence  the  probability  that  four  points  within  a  circle  shall 
form  a  re-entrant  figure  is 

35 

11.  Professor  Sylvester  has  remarked  that  it  would  be  a  novel 

Question  in  the  calculus  of  variations  to 
etermino  the  form  of  the  convex  contour 
which  renders  the  probability  a  maxi- 
mum or  minimum  that  four  points  taken 
within  it  shall  give  a  re-entrant  quadri- 
lateral. It  will  not  be  dilKcult  to  show, 
by  means  of  the  principles  wo  have  been 
examining,  that  the  circle  is  the  contour 
which  gives  the  minimum. 

For,  if  p  bo  the  probability  of  a  re- 
entrant figure  for  four  points  within  a 
circle  of  area  A,  fl  the  same  probability 
when  a  small  addition  o,  of  any  kind 
which  still  leaves  tho  wholo  contour  convex,  is  made  to  the  circle, 
we  have  by  (69) 

(p'-l))A-4a(;j,-/)), 

whore  p.  — tho  probability  when  ono  point  is  taken  in  a— that  i.i, 
in  tho  limit,  wncn  ono  point  is  taken  on  tho  circumference  of  tha 
circle.     Butpi— p,  as  is  shown  in  art.  68  ;  henco 

p'-p-O. 
Henco  any  infinitesimal  variation  of  tho  contour  from  the  circum- 
ference of  the   circle  gives  !p,   tho  variation  of  tho   probability, 
zero, — the  same  method  being  applicable  when  portions  are  takeu 
away,  instead  of  being  added,  provided  the  contour  is  left  convex. 


19-2JS 


78G 


PROBABILITY 


Hence,  for  the  circle,  the  probaljility  is  a  niaxiiiiuni  or  iniiiiiuuia. 
It  will  be  a  minimuin,  because  in  the  formula  (68)  for  the  mean 
triangle  formed  by  three  points 

(M'-M)A  =  3a(Mi-JJ). 

Ml',  which  is  the  mean  triangle  when  one  point  is  in  o,  is  really 
greater  than  when  it  is  on  the  circumference,  though  the  same  in 
the  limit ;  hence 

.-.  (M:-M)A>aM; 
.-.  M7(A  +  o)>M/A. 

Therefore,  if  we  consider  infinitesimals  of  the  second  order,  the 
chance  of  a  re-entrant  figure  is  increased  by  the  addition  of  the 
space  a  to  the  circle.  It  will  be  an  exercise  for  the  reader  to  verify 
this  when  the  space  is  subtracted. 

For  an  ellipse,  being  derived  by  projection  fiom  .the  circle,  the 
probability  is  the  same,  and  a  minimum- 
It  is  pretty  certain  that  a  triangle  will  be  found  to  be  the  con- 
tour which  gives  the  probability  the  greatest. 

Mr  "Woolhouse  has  given  (Educ.  Times,  Dec.  1867)  the  values 
of  7!  for 

TiinnRlp.        I  Paiftllelogiam.     Reg.  Hexagon.  Circle. 


P' 


or  -3333 


■3056 


■2973 


•2955 


73.  Many  questions  may  be  made  to  depend  upon  the  four-point 
problem.  Thus,  if  two  points  A,B  are  taken  at  random  in  a  given 
convex  area,  to  find  the  chance  that  two  others  C,  D,  also  taken  at 
random,  shall  lie  on  opposite  sides  of  the  line  AB. 

Let  p  be  the  chance  that  ABCD  is  re-entrant.  If  it  is,  the 
chance  is  easily  seen  to  be  4  that  any  two  of  the  four  lie  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  line  joining  the  two  others.  If  ABCD  is 
convex,  the  same  chance  is  i ;  hence  the  required  probability  is 

Or  we  might  proceed  as  follows,  e.g.,  in  the  case  of  a  tria-igle  : — 
The  sides  of  the  triangle  ABC  (fig.  5)  produced  divide  the  whole 

triangle  into  seven  spaces.    Of  these,  the  mean  value"of  those  marked 

a  is  the  same,  viz.,  the  mean  value 

of  ABC,  or  T^j  of  the  whole  triangle, 

as  we  have  shown, — the  mean  value 

of  those  marked  S  being  }  of  the 

triangle. 
This  is  easily  seen  :  for  instance, 

if  the  whole  area  ■=!,  the  mean  value 

of  the  space  PBQ  gives  the  chance 

that  if  the  fourth  point  D  be  taken 

at  random  B  shall  fall  within  the 

triangle  ADC  ;  now  the  mean  value 

of  ABC  gives  the  chance  that  D 

shall  fall  within  ABC  ;  but  these  two  chances  are  equal.     Hence 

we  see  that  if  A,  B,  C  be  taken  at  random,  the  mean  value  of  that 

portion  of  the  whole  triangle  which  lies  on  the  same  side  of  AB  as 

C  does  is  J^  o^  the  whole,  and  that  of  the  opposite  portion  is  y'5. 

Hence  the  chance  of  C  and  D  falling  on  opposite  sides  of  A'B  is  /^. 

74.  We  can  give  but  few  of  the  innumerable  questions  depend- 
ing on  the  position  of  points  in  a  plane,  or  in  space.  Some  may  be 
solved  without  any  aid  from  the  integral  calculus,  by  using  a  few 
very  evident  subsidiary  principles.  As  an  instance,  we  will  state 
the  following  two  propositions,  and  proceed  to  apply  them  to  one 
or  two  questions  : — 

(1)  In  a  triangle  ABC,  the  frequency  of  any  direction  for  the 
line  CX  is  the  same  when  X  is  a  point  taken  at  random  on  the 
base  AB  as  when  X  is  taken  at  random  in  the  area  of  the  triangle. 

(2)  If  X  (fig.  6)  is  a  point  taken  at  random  in  the  triangle  ABt 

(B6  being  infinitesimal),  the  X ,b 

frequency  of   the   distance  ,        ■        ,  I 

AX  is  the  same  as  that  of  *  ^    t^-     e^  ^ 

AZ.   Y  and   Z  being  two  *'S^  *>• 

points  taken  at  random  in  AB,  and  Z  denoting  always  tliat  one 
of  the  two  which  is  nearest  to  B.  For  the  frequency  iu  each  case 
is  proportional  to  the  distance  AX 
or  AZ. 

Let  us  apply  these  to  the  follow- 
ing question  : — 

A  point  0  is  taken  at  random  in 
a  triangle  (fig.  7)  ;  if  n  more  points 
are  taken  at  random,  to  find  the 
chance  that  they  shall  all  lie  on 
some  one  of  the  three  trianglesAOB, 
AOC,  BOC. 

If  C  be  joined  with  all  the  points 
in   ouestion,   every  joining  line  is  _.     _ 

eq     Jly  likely  to  be  nearest  to  CB.  'g'  '•» 

Hence  the  chance  that  all  the  n  points  fall  on  the  triangle  ACD  is 


If  this  isso,  we  have  to  find  the  ciiance  that  all  lie  on  AOC.  Now 
if  0  range  over  the  infinitesimal  triangle  DCrf,  we  may,  by  prin- 
ciple (2)  above,  suppose  it  to  be  the  nearest  to  D  of  two  points  taken 
at  random  in  CD.  If  so,  the  chance  that  AO  is  nearer  to  AD  than 
any  of  the  lines  from  A  to  the  n  points  is 

2(1. -H  2)-=; 

for,  by  (1)  above,  we  may  suppose  all  the  points  taken  at  random 
in  CD;  now  any  one  of  the  «-f  2  is  equally  likely  to  be  the 
last;  and  0  is  the  last  of  the  two  additional  points.  Herre,  if 
0  is  in  the  triangle  CDrf,  the  chance  that  the  n  points  fall  ou 

AOC  is 

2(n-l-l)-i(ii-f2)-i; 

therefore  this  is  the  chance  wherever  0  falls  in  ABC. 

Therefore  the  required  chance  that  the  n  points  fall  on  some  »w 
of  the  triangles  AOB,  AOC,  BOC  is 

P  =  6()i-H)->(K-f2)-i. 

Again,  if  O  be  taken  at  random,  in  the  triangle,  and  three  more 
points  X,  Y,  Z  be  also  taken  at  random  in  it,  to  find  the  chance  tliiit 
they  shall  fall,  one  on  each  of  the  triangles  AOB,  AOC,  BOC. 

First,  two  of  the  points  are  to  fall  on  one  of  the  triangles  ACD, 
BCD,  and  the  remaining  one  on  the  other  ;  say  two  on  ACD,  the 
chance  of  this  is  i,  as  CO  must  then  be  the  third  in  order  of  the 
four  distances  from  C.  If  this  is  so,  the  chance  that  the  point  X 
in  BCD  falls  on  BOC  is  |.  For,  as  above,  if  O  ranges  over  the 
triangle  CDd,  we  ma)'  take  it  to  be  "the  lowest  of  two  points  taken 
at  random  on  CD  ;  and  the  chance  that,  if  another  point  be  also 
taken  at  random  in  CD,  it  shall  be  lower  than  0  is  \.  Now  if  one 
of  the  points  X  is  in  BOC,  the  frequency  of  0  in  CCd  will  "be  tlie 
same  as  that  of  the  lowest  of  three  points  taken  on  CD ;  and  the 
chance  that  one  of  the  remaining  points  shall  fall  in  AOC  and  the 
other  in  AOD  is  the  chance  that  0,  the  lowest  of  three  particular 
points  out  of  five,  all  taken  at  random  in  CD,  shall  be  the  fourth 
in  order  from  C  It  is  easy  to  see  that  this  chance  is  ^.  Hence 
the  chance  that  one  point  falls  on  BOC,  one  on  AOC,  and.  the  third 
on  AOD  is 

^■§^A=A- 

And  it  will  be  the  same  for  the  case  where  the  third  falls  on  BOD. 
Hence  the  cha'uce  that  one  point  falls  on  each  of  the  three  tl'iangles 
above  is  double  this,  or  ■^. 

75.  Straight  lines  falling  at  random  on  a  Plane. — If  an  infinite 
number  of  straight  lines  be  drawn  at  random  in  a  plane,  there 
will  be  as  many  parallel  to  any  given  diiection  as  to  any  other, 
all  directions  being  equaUy  probable  ;  also  those  having  any  given 
direction  will  be  disposed  with  equal  frequency  all  over  the  plane. 
Hence,  if  a  line  be  determined  by  the  coordinates^,  u,  the  perpen- 
dicular on  it  from  a  fixed  origin  O,  and  the  inclinafiou  of  that 
perpendicular  to  a  fixed  axis,  then,  if  ^,  ai  be  made  to  vary  by 
equal  infinitesimal  increments,  the  series  of  lines  so  given  will 
represent  the  entire  series  of  random  straight  lines.  Thus  the 
number  of  lines  for  which  p  falle  between  p  and  p  +  dp,  and  w 
between  w  and  w  -t-  du,  will  be  measured  by  dpdu,  and  the  integral 

/fdpda, 

between  any  limits,  measures  the  number  of  lines  mthin  those 
limits.^  ' 

It  6  easy  to  show  from  this  that  lAe  number  of  random  lilies 
which  meet  any  closed  convex  conto^ir  of  length  L  is  measured  by  L. 
For,  taking  O  inside  the  contour,  and  integrating  first  for  p, 
from  0  to  p,  the  perpendicular  on  the  tangent  to  the  contour,  we 
ha-vejpda  ;  taking  this  through  four  right  angles  for  <u,  we  hava 
by  Legendre's  theorem  on  rectification,  N  being  the  measure  of  the 
number  oflines. 


N-  /"^iZa-L.! 
Jo 


Thus,  if  a  random  line  meet  a  given  contour,  of  length  L,  the 
chance  of  its  meeting  another  convex  contour,  of  length  I,  internal 
to  the  former,  is 

P  =  l/L. 

U  the  given  contour  be  not  convex,  or  not  closed,  N  will  ovi- 


1  This  result  also  follows  by  coa.--idering  that,  if  an  infinite  plane  be  covered  by 
an  infinity  of  lines  di-awn  at  random,  it  is  evident  that  the  number  of  these  which 
meet  a  given  Unite  straight  line  is  pioportional  to  its  length,  and  is  the  Barao 
whatever  be  its  position.  Hence,  it  we  take  ;  the  length  of  the  line  as  tho 
measure  of  this  number,  the  number  of  random  lines  which  cut  any  element  as 
of  the  contour  is  measured  by  ds,  and  the  number  which  meet  the  contour  is 
therefore  measured  by  JL,  half  the  length  of  the  bounJaiy.  If  we  lake  2(  aj 
the  measure  for  the  line,  the  measure  for  tho  contour  will  bo  L,  as  above.  Of 
course  we  have  to  remember  that  each  line  must  meet  the  contour  twice.  It 
wo'uld  be  pos>ible  to  rectify  any  closed  curve  by  means  of  this  principle.  Suppose 
it  traced  on  the  surface  of  a  circular  disk,  of  circumference  L,  and  the  disk 
thrown  a  great  number  of  times  on  a  system  of  parallel  lines,  wliose  disUoce 
asunder  equals  the  diameter,  if  we  count  the  number  of  cases  in  which  the  closed 
curve  meets  one  of  tlie  parallels,  the  ratio  of  this  number  to  the  whole  number 
of  trials  will  bo  luUmately  tic  ratio  of  tlio  cucumfercnce  of  the  cuiic  to  that,  of 
tbe  unit. 


PROBABILITY 


787 


dently  be  the  length  of  an  endless  string,  drawn  tight  around  the 
contour. 

76.  If  a  random  line  meet  a  closed  convex  contour,  of  length  L, 
the  chance  of  it  meeting 
another    such    contour, 
external  to  the  former,  is 

y  =  (X-V)/L, 

where  X  is  the  length  of 
an  endle.is  band  envelop- 
ing both  contours,  and 
crossing  b';twe?n  them, 
and   Y   that   of  a  band 

also  enveloping  both,  but  P  ]  p 

not  crossing.     This  may  f*!!'  8. 

be  shown  by  means  of  Legendre's  integral  above  ;  or  as  follows  : — 

Call,  for  shortness,  N(A)  the  number  of  lines  meeting  an  area 
A  ;  N(A,  A')  the  number  which  meet  both  A  and  A' ;  then 
(fig.  8) 

K(SFOQPH)  +  N(S'Q'OR'P'H') =N(SROQPH  +  S'Q'OE'P'H') 
+  N(SROQPH,  S'Q'DR'P'H'), 

since  in  the  first  member  each  line  meeting  both  areas  is  counted 
twice.  But  the  number  of  lines  meeting  the  non-convex  figure 
consistrag  of  OQPHSR  and  OQ'S'H'FR'  is  equal  to  the  band  Y, 
and  the  number  meeting  both  tliese  areas  is  identical  with  that  of 
those  meeting  the  given  areas  fi,  O" ;  hence 

X-Y-hN(Q,  fi'). 

Thus  the  number  meeting  both  the  given  areas  is  measured  by 
X  -  Y.     Hence  the  theorem  follows. 

77.  Two  random  chords  cross  a  given  convex  boundarj',  of  length 
L,  and  area  0 ;  to  find  the  chance  that  their  intersection  falls 
inside  the  boundary. 

Consider  the  first  chord  in  any  position;  let  C  be  its  length; 
considering  it  as  a  closed  area,  the  chance  of  the  second  chord 
meeting  it  is 

2C/L  ; 

and  the  whole  chance  of  its  coordinates  falling  in  dp,  du  and  of 
the  second  chord  meeting  it  in  that  position  is 

2C    dpdu 

-     J-  J/'dpd>, 


2 
■  ij-jCd;)rfM 


But  the  whole  chance  is  the  sum  of  these  cliances  for  all  its 
positions  ; 

•.  ^ro\}.=2L-^/fCdpdu. 

Now,  for  a  given  value  of  u,  the  value  oi  JCdp  ia  evidently  the 
urea  n  ;  then,  taking  u  from  ir  to  0, 

required  probability  ^2TrnL-'. 

The  mean  ralae  of  a  chord  drawn  at  random  across  the  boundary 
is 

f/Cdpdu     tO 


M  = 


JJdpdai 


(The  cases  are  omitted 
.K 


78.  A  straight  band  of  breadth  «  being  ti-aced  on  a  floor,  and  a 
circle  of  radius  r  thrown  on  it  at  random;  to  find  the  mean  area  of 
the  band  which  is  covered  by  the  circle, 
where  the  circle   falls    outside    the 
band.)> 

If  S  be  the  space  covered,  the  chance 
of  a  ran<lom  point  on  the  circle  falling 
on  the  band  is 

p-M(S)/»r». 

Tliis  is  the  same  ns  if  the  circle  were 
fix«d,  and  the  band  tlirown  on  it  at 
random.  Now  let  A  (fig.  9)  be  a 
position  of  the  random  point ;  the 
favourable  cases  are  when  HK,  Ihx 
buiKlor  of  Ihe  band,  meets  a  circle, 
centre  A,  radius  Jc ;  and  the  whole 
number  arc  when  HK  meets  a  circle,  centre  0,  tadius  r+\c ;  hence 
the  probability  is 

2t  .  Ic  c 

'■''~2»(r  +  ii;)"'2r-Hc' 

Tliis  is  constant  for  all  positions  of  A ;  hence,  equating  tib«t« 
two  values  oip,  the  mean  value  requircol  is 

M(S)-c(2r-l-(;)-'irr^ 

The  mean  value  of  the  portion  of  the  circainfenMee  which  falls 

on  the  linnd  is  the  same  fraction  5— —  of  the  wholecircnmference. 

'  Or  lliu  nnor  mny  bp  iuiM^frtd  painted  wirli    i-nrnllcl   hiviirln.  at   m  disfuica 
KHiinclcr  criihiL.lo  tlic  fllamrur;  »o  that  tliQ  dccle  niuKt  lalj  on  oar 


Fig.  9. 


If  any  convex  area  whose  surface  13  0  and  circumference  L  be 
thrown  on  the  band,  instead  of  a  circle,  the  mean  area  covered  is 

M(S)  =  Tc(L-t-«)-'n. 

For  as  before,  fixing  the  random  point  at  A,  the  chance  of  • 
random  point  in  li  falling  on  the  band  is      ^ 

^"=27r.  ic/L  , 

where  U  is  the  perimeter  of  a  parallel  curve  to  L,  at  a  normal 
distance  ^c  from  it     Now 

L'=h  +  2ir.  Jc. 

■    M(S)^     ire 
n         L+irc' 

79.  BufTon's  problem  may  be  easily  deduced  in  a  sinfiiar  manner. 
Thus,  if  2r  =  length  of  line,  a  =  distance  between 
the  parallels,   and  we   conceive  a  circle  (fig.   10) 
of  diameter  a  with  its  centre   at  the   middle  O 
of  the  line,'  rigidly  attached  to  the  latter,  and 
thrown  with  it  on  the  parallels,  this  circle  must 
meet  one  of  the  parallels ;  if  it  be  thrown  an  in- 
finite number  of  times,  we  shall   thus   have   an 
infinite  number  of  chords  crossing  it  at  random. 
Their  number  is  measured  by  27r  .  Ja,  and  the       .^'K-  !"■ 
number  which  meet  2r  is  measured  by  ir.     Hence  the  chance  that 
the  line  2r  meets  one  of  the  parallels  is 

p  =  4r/ir« . 

80.  To  investigate  the  probability  that  the  inclination  of  the 
line  joining  any  two  points  in  a  given  convex  area  ft  shall  lie  within 
given  limits.  We  give  here  a  method  of  reducing  this  question  to 
calculation,  for  the  sake  of  an  integral 
to  which  it  leads,  and  which  is  not  easy 
to  deduce  otherwise. 

First  let  one  of  the  points  A  (fig.  11) 
be  fixed  ;  draw  through  it  a  chord  PQ 
=  C,  at  an  inclination  0  to  some  fixed 
line;  put  AP  =  r,  AQ-/;  then  the 
number  of  cases  for  which  the  direction 
of  the  line  joining  A  and  B  lies  between 
8  and  6 +  d9  is  measured  by 
i{r^  +  r''-)de. 

Now  let  A  range  over  the  space  be- 
tween PQ  and  a  parallel  chord  distant  dp  from  it,  the  number  of 
cases  for  which  A  lies  in  this  space  and  the  direction  of  AB  is  from 
6  to  6  +  dd  is  (first  considering  A  to  lie  in  the  element  drdp) 


Fig.  11. 


ytpdsf'^i-fi  -H  r''^]dr  =  \Odpd9 . 


Let  p  be  the  perpendicular  on  C  from  a  given  origin  0,  and 
let  to  be  the  inclination  of  p  (we  may  put  dm  for  d6),  C  will  be 
a  given  function  of  p,  «  ;  and,  integrating  first  for  u  constant, 
the  whole  number  of  cases  for  which  a  falls  between  given  limits 
(ji ,  m"  is 


\fj  d^fodp; 


the  iutegraiyc'</p  being  taken  for  all  positions  of  C  between  two 
tangents  to  the  boundary  parallel  to  PQ.  The  question  is  thus 
reduced  to  the  evaluation  of  this  double  integral,  which,  of  course, 
is  generally  difficult  enough  ;  we  may,  however,  deduce  from  it  a 
remarkable  rasult ;  for,  if  the  integral 

i^ffCMpdm 
be  extended  to  all  possible  positions  of  C,  it  gives  thewhole  nambcr 
of  pairs  of  positions  of  the  jraints  A,   B  which  lie  inside  thb  area  ; 
but  this  number  is.  (V  ;  hence 

SfQHpda-Z^,^ 

the  intecration  extending  to  all  possible  positioiu  of  the  chord  C, — 
its  length  being  a  given  function  of  its  co- 
ordinates p,  w. 

CoR.  Hence  if  L,  O  be  the  perimeter 
and  area  of  any  closed  convex  contour, 
the  moan  value  of  the  cube  of  a  chord 
drawn  across  it  at  random  is  3(1'/^  . 

81.    Let     there     bo    any    two    convex " 
boundaries  (fig.  12)  so  related  tliat ;  a  tan-  I 
gent  at  any  point  V  to  the  inner  cuts  off  ' 
a  coustaut  segment  S  from  the  outer  {e.g., 
two   concentric   similar   ellipses);  let   the  ,.       .„ 

annular  area  between   them  bo  cjiUi  d  A  ;  '*'     "' 

from  a  point  X  taken  at  random  on  this  annulus  draw  tangents 

>  Tho  line  mlRltt  bo  anjrwtuTo  within  tlin  ciirle  wUhrntt  alt^rlnfi  ttie  quejtlar). 

*  Tlilri  inlrKral  wbh  Klren  by  tho  prfncnt  wrH«r  In  thr  Comptfi  Hnukii,  IS119, 
p.  Hftn.  An  nnnlvtlcai  pi-ooi  wsi  given  bj  Sorret,  AHnattt  icu/U,  de  C£col9 
Sormalf,  1805  p.  177. 


788 

XA,  XB  to  the  inner, 
shall  find 


r  H  O  B  A  B  1  L  1   T   Y 


Find  the  mean  value  of  the  arc  AB.     We 

M(AB)  =  LS/A, 

L  being  the  whole  length  of  the  inner  curve  ABV. 

We  will  first  prove  the  following  lemma  : — 

If  there  be  any  convex  arc  AB  (fig.  13),  and  if  Nj  be  (tlie  measure 

of)  the  number  of  random   lines  which  

meet  it  once,  N^  the  numhcr  which  meet     ^^^7  Tt^N 

it  twice,  A B 

2arcAB-X,  +  2Xj.  Fig.  13. 

For  draw  the  chord  AB :  the  number  of  lines  meeting  the  convex 
figure  so  formed  is 

Ni  +  Nj  =  arc  +  chord  (the  perimeter) ; 

but  Nj  =  number  of  lines  meeting  the  chord  =  2  chord ; 

.-.  2aro  +  Ni  =  2N,  +  2N2,     .-.  2  arc  =  Ni  +  2Nj. 

Now  fix  thu  point  X,  and  draw  XA,  XB.  If  a  random  lino  cross 
the  boundary  L,  and  ;;,  be  the  probability  that  it  meets  (ho  arc 
AH  once,  p^  that  it  does  so  twice, 

2AB/L=i)i  +  2;), ; 

and  if  the  point  X  range  all  over  the  an- 
nulus,  and  p,,  p.,  are  tlie  same  probabilities 
for  all  positions  of  X, 

2M(AB)/L=;;i  +  2^)j. 

Let  now  IK  (fig.  14)  be  any  position  of 
the  random  line  ;  drawing  tangents  at  I,  K, 
it  is  easy  to  see  that  it  will  cut  the  arc  AB 
twice  when  X  i.s  in  the  space  marked  o, 
and  once  when  X  is  in  either  sp.ice  marked  ;3  ;  hence,  for  this  posi- 
tion of  the  line, 

2a  +  23    2S      ,.  ,  .  ,    .    ,  Jr(AB)     S 


Fig.  14. 


■  -f  ,  which  is  constant ;  lience  — j—  = 

A  Lt 


A 


Hence  the  mean  value  of  the  arc  is  the  same  fraction  of  the 
perimeter  that  the  constant  area  S  is  of  the  annulus. 
If  L  be  not  related  as  above  to  the  outer  boundary, 

jr(AB)/L  =  JI(S)/A, 

JI(S)  being  the  mean  area  of  the  segment  cut  off  by  a  tangent  ^"a 
random  point  on  the  perimeter  L. 

The  above  result  may  be  expressed  as  an  integral.  If  s  be  the 
arc  AB  included  by  tangents  from  any  point  (x,  y)  on  the 
annulus, 

J/sdxdy  =  LS. 

It  has  been  shown  {PMI.  Trans.,  1868,  p.  191)  that,"  if  *  be  the 
angle  between  the  tangents  XA,  XB, 

//edxd!;  =  i,{A-2S). 
The  mean  value  of  the  tangent  XA  or  XB  may  be  shoVvn  to  be 

Sl(XA)  =  ^P, 

where  P=perimetor  of  locus  of  centre  of  gravity  of  the  seg- 
ment S. 

82.  If  C  bo  the  length  of  a  chord  crossing  any  convex  area  n  ; 
2,  2'  the  areas  of  the  two  segments  into  which  it  divides  -the 
area;  and  p,  a  the  coordinates  of  C,  viz.,  the  perpendicular  on  C 
fron.  any  fixed  pole,  and  the  angle  made  by  p  with  any  fixed  axis  ; 
then 

J/C'dpdu  =  6//k2'dpdu,, 

both  integrations  extending  to  all  possible  values  of  p;  JS  fthicli 
give  a  lino  meeting  the  area. 

This  identity  will  follow  by  proving  that,  if  p  bo  the  distance 
between  two  points  taken  at  random  in  the  area,  the  mean  value  of 
p  will  bo 

}.Hp)  =  R-"-_//'Stdpda (1), 

and  also 

mp)''in-'i//C'dpdu -  .     .     (2). 

The  first  follows  by  considering  that,  if  a  random  line  crosses  the 
area,  the  chance  of  its  passing  between  the  two  points  is  2L-'JI(p), 
L  being  the  perimeter  of  fi.  Again,  for  any  given  position  of  the 
random  line  C,  the  chance  of  the  two  points  lying  on  opposite 
aides  of  it  is  222'n"' ;  therefore,  for  all  positions  of  C,  the  chance 
is  2n-=JI(22');  but  the  mean  value  11(22'),  for  all  positions  of 
the  chord,  is 

//ttdp'!, 


Mas'!-- 


J/dinlu 


L#-='''"'- 


de 


To  prove  equation  (2),  wo  remark  that  the  mean  value  of  p  is' 
found  by  supposing  each  of  the  points 
A,  B  to  occupy  in  succession  every  pos-  ,-'' 

sible  position  in  the  area,  and  dividing 
the  sum  nf  their  distances  in  each  caso 
by  the  whole 'number  of  cases,  the  mea-  ,. 
sure  of  which  number  is  n^  Confin-''''' 
ing  our  attention  to  the  ra<;es  in  which 
the  inclination  of  the  distanco  AB  to 
some  fixed  direction  lies  between  6  and 
6  +  d0,  let  the  position  of  A  be  fixed 
(fig.  15),  and  draw  through  it  a  chord 
HH'  =  C,  at  the  inclination  d  ;  the  sum 
of  the  cases  found  by  giving  B  all  its 
positions  is  ,.-''     Fig.  15. 

e^'p .  fidp  +  de^^'p.  pdp~i[,3+,-')de, 

where  r  =  AH,  >''  =  AH'.  Now  let  A  occupy  successively  all  posi- 
tions between  HH'  and  7(/i',  a  chord  parallel  to  it  at  a  distanea 
"djt ;  the  sum  of  all  the  cases  so  given  will  ba 

idOdii  /'^(r''  +  r'')dr=  IdBdpiiC* 

-'IdedpC*. 

Now,  if  A  moves  over  the  whole  area,  the  sum  of  the  cases  will  bo 

ide/C'dp  , 

where  ]}=  pci'pcndicular  on  C  from  any  fixed  polo  0,  and  the 
integration  extends  to  all  parallel  positions  of  C  between  two  taa- 
gents  T,  T'  to  the  boundary,  the  inclination  of  which  is  6.  Remov- 
ing now  the  restriction  as  to  the  direction  of  the  distance  AB,  asd 
giving  it  all  values  from  0  to  it,  the  sum  of  all  the  cases  is 

ifj^ejodp ; 

or,  if  a=  inclination  of  7),  du  =  dO,  and  the  sum  is 

The  mean  value  of  the  reciprocal  of  the  distance  AB  of  two  points 
taken  at  random  in  a  convex  area  is  easily  shown  to  bo 

JIp-i  =  n-=_/7CVj)rfa.. 

Thus,  for  a  circle,  JI  p  - '  =  - — . 

iiri- 

It  may  also  be  shown  that  the  mean  area  of  the  triangle  formed 
by  taking  three  points  A,  B,  C  within  any  convex  area  is 

3I(ABC)  =  n-  n-'J/C^i-dpdi^ . 

83.  In  the  last  question  if  we  had  sought  for  the  mean  value  ef 
the  chord  HH'  or  C,  which  joins  A  and  B,  the  sum  of  the  cases 
when  A  is  fixed  and  the  inclination  lies  between  8  and  8  +  d8  wouKl 
liavc  been 

0.i{T^  +  r"')d8  , 

and  \vhen  A  lies  between  HH'  and  hh' 

iCdedp/''^(,'  +  ]-^)dr=idBdpC*  ; 

and  finally,  tho  mean  value  of  C  is 

ll{C)  =  in--//Chlpdw. 

Thus  the  mean  value  of  a  chord,  passing  through  two  points  taken 
at  random  within  any  convex  boundary,  is  double  the  mean  dis- 
tance of  the  points. 

84.  We  have  now  done  enough  to  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  the 
subject  of  local  probability.  We  reler  him  for  fuller  information  to 
the  very  interesting  work  just  published  by  Emanuel  Czuber  of 
Pi-ague,  Gcometrischc  Wahrschcinlichkcitcn  und  Mittdwcrtc,  Leip- 
sic,  1884  ;  also  to  the  Educational  Times  Journal,  in  wliich  most  of 
the  recent  theorems  on  the  subject  have  first  ap])eared  in  the  form 
of  questions,  under  the  able  editorship  of  Mr  Miller,  who  has  him- 
self largely  contributed.  In  Williamson's  Integral  Calculus,  and 
a  paper  by  Prof.  Crofton,  Phil.  Trans.,  1868,  the  subject  is  al.so 
treated. 

Literature. — Besides  the  works  named  in  tlic  cotirse  of  this  article,  see  Pc 
Jlorpan's  trcutise  in  llic  Ejicyr.lopxdia  iletropoHtana;  Laurent,  Traite  tlu  Caleut 
dcs  PiobaMiles,  Pjris,  1873  ;  Goui-»nd,  Histoire  du  Cakul  des  Prob.,  Paris,  1848; 
J.  W.  L.  Gloislicr,  "  On  tho  Law  of  Facility  of  EiTors  of  O'jservations,  and  the 
Metliod  of  Least  Squares,*'  Tratu.  R.A.S.,  vol.  xxxix. ;  Couniot,  Theorie  del 
Changes;  Liugre,  Caleut  des  Prob.;  General  Didion,  Calcul  des  Prob.  apptit/ue 
an  lir  tics  projectiles.  Tliose  who  are  inteiested  iu  the  inctaphysitoi  aspect  of 
tile  qnestinn  may  consult  Boole's  Laies  of  Tlioughr,  also  J.  S.  Villi's  Logic.  To 
these  and  tlic  other  woiks  we  have  named  we  icfcr  tlie  rLadei  for  an  account  of 
what  we  have  Ilad  to  omit,  but  above  all,  to  the  (ri-tat  work  of  Laplace,  of  which 
It  is  sufficient  to  saylliat  it  is  worthy,  of  the  genius  of  its  author — the  Tlievric 
analyttque  d.s  Profjabilites.  It  is  no  light  task  to  master  the  methods  and  the 
ti-asoniugs  there  employed;  but  it  is,  and  will  long  cont'muc  to  he,  one  that 
must  he  attempted  by  uti  who  dcAiic  to  umi^rstuuLl  tmil  to  apply  tho  theory  of 
probobility.  '  (.M.  \V.  C.) 


P  R  o  —  r  R  0 


789 


PROBATE.     See  Will. 

PROBUS,  Marcus  Attrelius,  Roman  emperor  from  276 
to  282  A.D.,  was  a  native  of  Sirmium  on  the  Save,  and  son 
of  a  military  officer  of  moderate  fortune.  He  early  entered 
the  army,  where  he  recommended  himself  to  the  emperor 
Valerian,  and  against  all  rule  became  tribune  -while  still 
a  mere  lad.  In  these  times  there  were  abundant  oppor- 
tunities for  a  capable  officer,  and  Probus  served  with  great 
distinction  in  all  parts  of  the  empire.  Under  Aurelian  he 
operated  against  the  Palmyreno  realm  in  Egypt  and  had 
a  large  part  in  the  restoration  of  Roman  authority  in  the 
East  On  Aurelian's  death  he  was  quite  the  most  pro- 
minent military  officer  of  Rome,  and  had  a  great  hold  on 
the  troops  by  his  constant  care  for  their  comfort,  his 
judicious  discipline,  and  his  unselfishness.  Tacitus  is  said 
to  have  hesitated  to  assume  the  purple  which  Probus  was 
better  fitted  to  wear,  and  it  is  certain  that  he  felt  the 
support  of  Probus  indispensable,  and  raised  him  to  the 
rank  of  commander  of  the  whole  East.  In  a  few  months 
the  purple  actually  fell  to  him,  for  on  the  news  of  Tacitus's 
death  his  soldiers  at  once  made  him  emperor,  Florianus, 
who  had  claimed  to  succeed  his  brother,  was  put  to  death 
by  his  own  troops,  and  the  senate  were  eager  to  ratify 
the  choice  of  the  army.  The  reign  of  Probus  was  mainly 
spent  in  successful  wars  by  which  he  re-established  the 
security  of  all  the  frontiers  ;  the  fiercest  and  most  bloody 
of  these  operations  was  directed  to  clearing  Gaul  of  the 
Germans.  Probus  had  also  to  put  down  three  usurpers, 
Saturninus,  Proculus,  and  Bonosus.  One  of  his  principles 
was  never  to  allow  the  soldiers  to  be  idle,  and  to  employ 
them  in  time  of  peace  on  useful  works,  such  as  the  plant- 
ing of  vineyards  in  Gaul,  Pannonia,  and  other  districts 
where  a  selfish  policy  bad  previously  forbidden  this  form 
of  husbandry.  This  increase  of  duties  was  naturally 
unpopular  with  the  troops,  and  .while  the  emperor  was 
urging  on  the  draining  of  the  marshes  of  his  native  place 
he  was  attacked  and  slain  by  a  sudden  mutiny.  Scarcely 
any  emperor  has  left  behind  him  so  good  a  reputation ;  his 
death  was  mourned  alike  by  senate  and  people,  and  even 
the  soldiers  presently  repented  and  raised  a  monument 
in  honour  of  "  Probus  imperator  vere  probus."  According 
to  the  Chron.  Alex.  Probus  was  fifty  years  old  at  the  time 
of  his  death ;  he  left  a  family,  but  they  withdrew  into 
private  life  in  northern  Italy,  and  the  empire  fell  to  Carus. 

PROCESS,  in  law,  denotes  in  the  widest  sense  of  the 
word  any  means  by  which  a  court  of  justice  gives  effect  to 
Its  authority.  In  the  old  practice  of  the  English  conir 
mon  law  courts  process  was  either  original  or  judicial. 
Original  process  was  a  means  of  compelling  a  defendant 
to  compliance  with  an  original  writ  (see  Writ).  Judicial 
process  was  any  compulsory  proceeding  rendered  necessary 
after  .the  appearance  of  the  defendant.  Process  was  also 
divided  in  civil  matters  into  original,  mesne,  and  final. 
Original  process  in  this  eenso  was  any  means  taken  to 
compel  the  appearance  of  the  defendant.  A  v.rit  of  sum- 
mons is  now  the  universal  means  in  the  High  Court  of 
Justice.  Mesne  process  was  cither  any  proceeding  against 
the  defendant-  taken  between  the  beginning  and  the  end 
of  the  action,  such  as  to  compel  him  to  give  bail,  or  was 
directed  to  persons  not  parties  to  the  action,  such  as  jurors 
or  witnesses.  Arrest  on  mesne  process  was  abolished  in 
England  by  the  Debtors  Act,  IftGO.  Final  process  is 
practically  coexistent  with  execution.  It  includes  writs 
of  fieri  facias,  capias,  elegii,  sequestration,  and  attach- 
ment. In  criminal  matters  process  only  applies  where  the 
defendant  does  not  appear  upon  summons  or  otherwise. 
A  warrant  is  now  the  usual  form  of  such  process.  Service 
of  process  on  Sunday  is  void,  except  in  cases  of  treason, 
felony,  or  breach  of  tlio  peace,  29  Car.  II.,  c.  7.  Recent 
legislation   gives  facilities   for  service   and  execution  of 


certain  kinds  of  process  of  the  courts  of  one  part  of  the 
Uhited  Kingdom  in  another  part.  Thus  by  44  ik  45  Vict, 
c.  24  process  of  an  English  court  of  summary  jurisdiction 
may  be  served  in  Scotland,  and  vice  versa.  A  writ  of 
summons  in  the  High  Court  of  Justice  may  be  served  out 
of  the  jurisdiction  in  certain  cases  {Rules  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  1883,  Ord.  xi.). 

Stet  processus  wa?  a  technical  term  used  in  old  common 
law  practice.  It  consisted  of  an  entry  on  the.  record  by 
consent  of  the  parties  for  a  stay  of  proceedings.  Since  the 
Judicature  Acts  there  has  been  no  record,  and  the  stet 
p7'ocessus  has  disappeared  with  it. 

la  Scotch  law  process  is  used  in  a  much  wider  sense,  almost 
equivalent  to  practice  or  procedure  in  English  law.  •  Pioccss  in  the 
English  sense  corresponds  rather  to  diligence.  Whore  papers 
forming  steps  of  a  process  are  borrowed  and  not  returned,  diligence 
of  process  caption  lies  for  their  recovery. 

In  the  United  States  process  is  governed  by  numerous  statutes, 
both  of  Congress  and  of  the  State  legislatures.  The  law  is  founded 
upon  the  English  common  law. 

I'ROCIDA,  an  island  less  than  2  miles  off  the  west 
coast  of  southern  Italy  between  Capo  Miseno  (or  rather 
Monte  Procida)  on  the  mainland  and  the  island  of  Ischia, 
forming  part  of  the  circondario  of  Pozzuoli  and  the  pro- 
vince of  Naples.  Its  total  area  is  not  much  more  than  lA- 
square  miles,  but  it  is  fertile,  well-cultivated,  and  thickly 
peopled  (10,788  inhabitants  in  1871,  10,891  in  1881). 
Like  the  neighbouring  mainland  it  is  largely  of  volcanic 
origin,  and  the  ancient  Greek  name  Prochyte  (Upoxv'-n;), 
Latinized  as  Procita,  possibly  refers  to  this  fact.  The  two 
fine  bays  on  the  south  coast  are  remains  of  craters,  and  the 
soil  is  almost  exclusively  tuff.  The  coasts  are  usually  a 
rocky  scarp ;  the  general  surface  of  the  island  is  compara- 
tively low  and  flat.  Procida,  the  chief  town,  lies  on  the 
.isthmus  of  a  peninsula,  at  the  landward  extremity,  looking 
out  over  a  spacious  bay.  It  contains  a  castle,  now  used  as 
a  prison,  and  an  old  royal  palace  of  the  Bourbons,  who  had 
a  hunting  park  in  the  island  ;  and  the  harbour  is  defended 
by  a  fort.  In  the  Piazza  del  Martiri  is  a  monument  to  the 
twelve  who  were  executed  as  political  ofi"enders  in  1799. 
The  islanders  are  mainly  engaged  in  market-gardening, 
vine-growing,  the  fisheries,  and  the  coasting  trade ;  but 
the  number  of  fishing-boats  belonging  to  Procida  is  much 
smaller  than  it  used  to  be.  In  accordance  with  their  claim 
to  be  of  Greek  descent  the  women  are  accustomed  to  wear 
on  the  festival  of  St  Michael  a  picturesque  Greek  costume 
and  to  dance  the  tarantula. 

In  the  13th  century  the  island  was  the  feudal  possession  of  Gio- 
vanni da  Procida,  the  chief  conspirator  iu  the  Sicilian  Vespers. 
The  capture  off  the  coast,  by  the  Ottoman  fleet,  of  a  number  of 
Andrea  Doria's  galleys  in  1522  was  the  last  of  many  instances  in 
which  Procida  was  made  to  realize  the  hostility  of  Slobammcdan 
powers.  In  1799,  from  1806  to  1809,  and  again  iu  1813  it  was 
occupied  by  the  English. 

PROCLUS.     See  Neoplatonism. - 

PROCONSUL.  See  CoNSDL,  vol.  vi.- p."  315,  tiu<I 
Province. 

PROCOPIUS,  the  most  eminent  historian  of  the  Eastern 
Roman  empire,  was  born  at  Ca>sarea  in  Palestine,  then  one 
of  the  chief  cities  of  the  Roman  East,  towards  the  end  of 
the  5th  century,  probably  between  485  and  495  a.d.  Of 
his  family  and  earlier  life  nothing  is  known,  but  it  has 
been  plausibly  conjectured  from  the  aristocratic  sympathies 
hu  manifests  that  ho  belonged  to  one  of  tlw  better  families 
of  his  city,  and  from  the  place  of  his  birth  that  ho  was 
educated  at  the  great  law  school  of  Berytus  (Beirut).  He 
became  a  lawyer,  probably  at  Constantinople,  and  was  in 
62G  appointed  o-v/x/JovXcs  to  Bclisarius,  who  was  proceed- 
ing to  command  the  imperial  army  in  the  war  against  the 
Persians  (Proc,  Pers.,  i.  12).  The  chief  duties  of  this  office, 
which  is  also  described  as  that  of  vdptSpoi  or  o-vyKaOtSpm, 
seem  to  have  been  the  giving  of  legal  advico  to  the  general, 


7U0 


PKOCOPIUS 


■*rho  had  a  measure  of  judicial  as  well  as  administrative 
power,  and  have  been  well  compared  by  Mr  Hodgkin  (Italy 
and  Her  Invaders,  vol.  iii.  p.  638)  to  those  of  an  English 
judge  advocate.  IVhen  the  Persian  War  was  suspended 
Procopius  probably  returned  with  his  general  to  Constanti- 
nople ;  and  when  Belisarius  was  despatched  against  the 
Vandals  of  Africa  in  533  Procopius  again  accompanied 
him,  as  he  subsequently  did  in  the  war  against  the  Ostro- 
goths of  Italy  which  began  in  536.  Whether  he  held  the 
same  position  of  legal  assessor  through  these  campaigns  or 
was  merely  a  member  of  the  large  personal  following  which 
Belisarius  had  we  do  not  know.  Suidas  calls  him  the  secre- 
tary (liToypacjjev?)  of  Belisarius,  but  this  may  be  merely  a 
reference  to  his  original  appointment  as  o-v/z/SouXos  in  the 
Persian  campaign.  He  was  evidently  much  valued  by  Beli- 
sarius, who  twice  employed  hira  on  difficult  and  important 
missions — once  in  533  to  obtain  from  Syracuse  provisions 
for  the  Roman  fleet  and  information  as  to  the  preparations 
of  the  Vandals,  and  again  in  537,  when  the  historian  was 
despatched  from  Rome,  which  Belisarius  was  holding  against 
the  Goths,  to  collect  troops  and  corn  in  Campania  and  bring 
them  in  a  fleet  to  Ostia.  On  both  occasions  Procopius  ac- 
quitted himself  with  skill  and  success.  He  passes  lightly 
over  his  own  performances,  and  nowhere  strikes  us  as  eager 
for  an  opportunity  of  singinghis  own  praises. 

After  the  capture  of  Ravenna  in  539  Procopius  "would 
seem  to  hare  returned  to  Constantinople,  where  he  was  in 
542,  the  year  of  the  great  plague,  which  he  has  minutely 
described  (Pers.,  ii.  22).  It  does  not  appear  whether  he 
was  with  the  Roman  armies  in  the  later  stages  of  the 
Gothic  War,  when  Belisarius  and  afterwards  Narses  fought 
against  Totila  in  Italy,  though  his  narrative  of  these  years 
is  so  much  less  full  and  minute  than  that  of  the  earlier 
warfare  that  probably  he  was  not  an  eye-witness  of  these 
campaigns.  Of  his  subsequent  fortunes  we  know  nothing, 
except  that  he  was  living  in  559.  He  was  an  advocate  by 
profession  (Agathias,  Evagrius,  and  other  Byzantine  writers 
call  him  prp-wp),  but  whether  he  practised  law  after  his 
return  from  the  Italian  wars  may  be  doubted,  for  he  must 
have  been  then  occupied  i^dth  the  composition  of  his  his- 
tories, and  his  books  show  that  he  spent  a  good  deal  of 
time  in  travel.  He  seldom  refers  to  legal  matters,  and 
shows  little  interest  in  them,  mentioning  only  in  the  most 
cursory  way  the  legislation  and  codification  of  Justinian. 
Whether  he  was  the  Procopius  who  was  prefect  of  Con- 
stantinople in  562  (Theophanes,  Chrmograpkia^  201,  202) 
and  was  removed  from  office  in  the  year  following  cannot 
be  determined.  Little  can  be  founded  on  the  name,  for  it 
was  a  common  one  in  that  age,  and  had  this  Procopius 
teea  our  historian  one  might  have  expected  some  of  the 
subsequent  writers  who  refer  to  the  latter  to  have  men- 
tioned this  fact  about  him.  On  the  other  hand  the  historian 
was  evidently  a  person  of  note,  who  had  obtained  the  rank 
of  Illustris  (Suidas  calls  him  'lAAouVrpios),  and  a  passage 
in  the  Anecdota  looks  as  if  he  had  risen  to  be  a  senator 
(Anecd.,  c.  12),  so  that  there  is  no  improbability  in  his 
having  been  raised  to  the  high  office  of  prefect 

There  has  been  some  controversy  as  to  his  religion.  So 
far  as  external  profession  went,  he  must  have  been  a 
Christian;  for  paganism,  persecuted  by  Justinian,  would 
hardly  have  been  tolerated  in  so  conspicuous  a  person  ;  nor 
is  there  any  evidence  for  his  being  a  heathen  other  than 
the  cool  indifference  with  which  (e.xcept  in  the  De  jEdi- 
fidis)  he  speaks  about  Christian  beliefs  and  practices.  He 
Seems  to  have  been  so  far  a  Christian  as  to  have  believed 
in  a  God  and  have  held  Christ  to  be  a  supernatural  being, 
but  he  frequently  expresses  himself  in  sceptical  language, 
talks  of  God  and  Fate  as  if  practically  synonymous,  and 
entertained  great  contempt  for  the  theological  controversies 
♦  hich  raged  so  hotly  in  his  own  time. 


Procopi-as's  writings  fall  into  three  divisions — the  ffii 
tories  (Persian,  Vandal,  and  Gothic  Wars)  in  eight  books, 
tlw  treatise  on  the  Buildings  of  Jnsdnian  (De  ^dificiix) 
in  six  books,  and  the  Unpublished  Memoirs  (to,  'AvckSoto, 
Hisiorin  Arcana),  here  cited  as  the  Anecdota. 

The  Histories  are  called  by  the  author-himself  the  Booli 
about  the  Wars  (ol  inrip  rwv  Tro\(/j,iiiv  Xo-yoi).  They  consist 
of — (1)  the  Persian  Wars,  in  two  books,  giving  a  narrative 
of  the  long  struggle  of  the  emperors  Justin  and  Justinian 
against  the  Persian  kings  Kobad  and  Chosroes  Ann-shirvam 
down  to  550 ;  (2)  the  Vandal  War,  in  two  books,  describ-' 
ing  the  conquest  of  the  Vandal  kingdom  in  Africa  and  the' 
subsequent  events  there  from  532  down  to  546  (with  a' 
few  words  on  later  occurrences);  (3)  the  Gothic  War,  in> 
four  books,  narrating  the  war  against  the  Ostrogotlis  in 
Sicily  and  Italy  from  536  till  552.  These  three  treatises 
were  written  continuously  to  form  one  connected  history  ; 
but,  as  the  arrangement  of  events  is  geographical,  not 
chronological,  they  overlap  in  time,  the  Persian  War  carry- 
ing its  narrative  over  a  large  part  of  the  period  embraced 
in  the  Vandal  War  and  the  Gothic  War.  The  fourtli  and 
last  of  the  four  books  of  the  Gothic  War  is  really  a  general 
history  of  the  empire,  designed  to  continue  the  Persian 
War  as  well  as  the  Gothic.  It  was  written  after  the  year 
in  which  the  preceding  seven  books  had  been  published,' 
and  was  itself  published  apparently  in  554  or  555.  These 
eight  books  of  Histories,  although  mainly  occupied  with 
military  matters,  contain  notices  of  some  of  the  more  iin> 
portant  domestio  events,  such  as  the  Kika  insurrection  at 
Constantinople  in  532,  the  plague  in  542,  the  conspiracy 
of  Artabanes  in  548.  They  tell  us,  however,  comparatively 
little  about  the  civil  administration  of  the  emp're,  and 
nothing  about  legislation.  On  the  other  hand  tuey  art 
rich  in  geographical  and  ethnographical  information,  oftei 
of  the  highest  value  for  our  knowledge  of  the  bai  'larian 
and  particularly  of  the-  Teutonic  tribes  who  lived  on  the 
borders  of  the  empire  and  were  either  its  enemies  or  the 
material  of  its  armies. 

As  an  historian,  Procopius  would  have  deserved  liononi 
in  any  age,  and  is  of  quite  unusual  merit  when  one  con- 
siders the  generally  low  literary  level  of  the  age  which 
produced  him.  From  the  4th  to  the  15th  century  the 
Eastern  empire  has  no  lay  writer  of  gifts  approaching 
his.  He  is  industrious  in  collecting  facts,  careful  and 
impartial  in  stating  them ;  his  judgment  is  sound,  hi» 
reflexions  generally  acute,  his  conceptions  of  the  general 
march  and  movement  of  things  not  unworthy  of  the  great 
events  he  has  recorded.  His  descriptions,  particularly  of 
military  operations,  are  clear,  and  his  especial  fondness  for 
this  part  of  the  subject  seldom  leads  him  into  unnecessary 
minuteness.  The  style,  although  marked  by  mannerisms, 
by  occasional  affectations  and  rhetorical  devices,  is  on  the 
whole  direct  and  businesslike,  nor  is  the  Greek  bad,  when 
one  considers  the  time.  Tliucydides  and  Herodotus  are  tho 
two  models  whom  he  keeps  always  before  his  eyes :  he  imi- 
tates the  former  in  the  maxims  (yvwfxai)  he  throws  in,  and 
the  speeches  which  he  puts  into  the  mouth  of  the  chief 
actors ;  the  latter  in  his  frequent  geographical  digression."?, 
in  the  personal  anecdotes,  in  the  tendency  to  collect  and 
attach  some  credence  to  marvellous  tales.  It  need  hardly 
be  said  that  he  falls  far  short  of  the  vigour  and  profundity 
of  the  Attic,  as  well  as  of  the  genial  richness,  the  grace, 
the  simplicity,  the  moral  elevation,  the  poetical  feeling 
of  the  Ionic  historian.  The  speeches  are  obviously  com- 
posed by  Procopius  himself,  rarely  showing  any  dramatic 
variety  in  their  language,  but  they  seem  sometimes  to  con- 
vey the  substance  of  what  was  said,  and  even  when  this  ir 
not  the  case  they  frequently  serve  to  bring  out  the  points 
of  a  critical  situation.  Tlie  geographical  and  ethnclogica^ 
,  notices  ara  precious.     Procojnus  is  almost  as  much  a  geq 


FK0C0PIU8 


791 


gi-apber  as  an  historian — it  is  one  of  his  merits  to  bavo 
l)erceivecl  the  importance  of  eachscience  to  the  other — and 
his  descriptions  of  the  peoples  and  places  he  '  himself 
visited  are  generally  careful  and  thorougL  Although  a 
warmly  patriotic  Roman,  he  does  full  justice  to  the  merits 
of  the  barbarian  enemies  of  the  empire,  and  particularly 
of  the  Ostrogoths ;  although  the  subject  of  a  despotic 
prince,  he  criticizes  the  civil  and  military  administration 
of  Jnstinian  and  his  dealings  with  foreign  peoples  with  a 
freedom  which  gives  a  favourable  impression  of  the  toler- 
ance of  the  emperor.  His  chief  defects  are  a  somewhat 
pretentious  and  at  the  same  time  monotonous  style,  and 
a  want  of  sympathy  and  intensity,  which  prevents  him 
from  giving  full  life  and  reality  to  the  personages  who 
figure  in  his  narrative,  or  raising  it  to  a  level  worthy  of 
the  great  and  terrible  scenes  wliich  he  has  sometimes  to 
describe. 

The  De  ^dificiis,  or  treatise  on  the  Buildings  of  Jus- 
tiiiian,  contains  an  account  of  the  chief  public  works 
«xocuted  during  the  reign  of  the  emperor  down  to  558,  in 
which  year  it  seems  to  have  been  composed,  particularly 
churches,  palaces,  hospitals,  fortresses,  roads,  bridges  and 
other  river  works.     Ail  these  are  of  course  ascribed  to  the 

t)ersonal  action  of  the  monarch.  The  treatise  is  a  little 
onger  than  the  average  length  of  one  single  book  of  the 
eight  books  of  the  Histories.  Its  arrangement  is  geogra- 
phical ;  beginning  from  Constantinople,  it  describes  works 
executed  in  the  Mesopotamian  provinces,  in  Armenia  and 
the  Caucasian  countries,  in  Thrace  and  Macedonia,  in 
Aiiia  Minor  and  Syria,  in  Egypt  and  Africa  as  far  as  the 
Pillars  of  Hercules.  If  not  written  at. the  command  of 
Justinian  (as  some  have  supposed),  it  is  at  any  rate  semi- 
official, being  evidently  grounded  on  official  information, 
and  is  full  of  gross  flattery  of  the  emperor  and  of  the  (then 
deceased)  emjjress.  In  point  .of  style  it  is  greatly  inferior 
to  the  Uistories — florid,  pompous,  and  affected,  and  at  the 
same  time  tedious.  Its  chief  value  lies  in  the  geographi- 
cal notices  which  it  contains. 

The  Anecdota,  or  Secret  History,  in  length  almost  equal 
to  the  De  JUdificiis,  and  somewhat  shorter  than  the  aver- 
age length  of  a  book  of  the  Histories,  purports  to  bo  a 
supplement  to  these,  containing  explanations  and  additions 
whicli  the  author  could  not  place  in  the  Histories  for  fear 
of  Justinian  and  Theodora.  It  is  a  furious,  invective 
against  these  sovereigns,  their  characters,  personal  con- 
duct, and  government,  with  attacks  on  Belisarius  and  his 
wife  Antonina,  and  on  other  official  persons  of  note  in  the 
civil  and  military  services  of  .the  empire — attacks  whose 
effect  is  weakened  by  the  passion  the  author  betrays. 
Frequent  references  to  the  Histories  are  interspersed,  but 
the  events  of  the  wars  are  seldom  referred  to,  the  main 
topic  being  the  personal  and  official  misdeeds  of  the  rulers 
as  shown  in  domestic  affairs.  The  ferocity  and  brutality  of 
this  scandalous  chronicle  astonish  us,  for  modern  writings 
of  the  same  order  have  usually  been  the  work  of  vulgar 
and  anonymous  scribblers,  not  of  an  able,  accomplished, 
and  highly  placed  man  such  as  Procopius  wafe.  Hence 
ito  authenticity  has  been  often  called  in  question,  and  a 
few  words  are  needed  both  on  that  question  and  on  the 
further  question  of  the  credibility  of  its  contents. 

It  was  unknown  to  Agathias  and  Evagrius,  younger 
contemporaries  of  Procopius  who  frequently  mention  his 
Histories,  and  is  'first  referred  to  by  Suidas  (writing  in  the 
10th  century),  who  ascribes  it  to  Procopius.  Two  MSS. 
^sinco  lost)  are' mentioned  as  having  been  brought  to  Italy 
in  the  days  of  the  Renaissance,  but  the  first  publication 
was  made  by  Nicholas  Alemanni,  an  official  of  the  Vatican, 
who  found  a  MS.  in  that  library  and  edited  it  with  copious 
and  learned  potes  and  a  Latin  translation  (Lyons,  IG:23). 
Since  h>8  day  several  jurists  (led  thereto  by  jealousy  for 


J  ustiniau's  reputation)  and  other  scholars  have  denied  it 
to  be  the  work  of  Procopius,  among  whom  it  is  sufScient 
to  refer  to  the  latest,  J.  H.  Reinkens.*  The  external 
argument  against  its  genuineness,  drawn  from  its  not 
being  mentioned  till  four  centuries  after  the  death  of 
Procopius,  appears  weak  "when  we  recollect  that  it  was 
obviously  not  written  to  be  published  at  the  time,  and' 
may  well  have  remained  concealed  for  generations.  The 
internal  argument  from  the  difference  between  the  view 
of  Justinian  it  presents  and  that  given  in  the  De  jEdifidit 
will  impress  no  one  who  has  observed  the  almost  patent 
insincerity  of  the  latter  book,  and  the  censure,  severe 
though  carefully  guarded,  which  the  Histories  frequently 
bestow  on  Justinian's  policy.  On  the  other  hand  the 
agreement  in  many  points  of  fact  between  the  Histones 
and  the  Anecdota,  and  the  exactness  of  the  references 
from  the  latter  to  the  former,  point  to  unity  of  author- 
ship; while  the  similarity  of  opinions,  ideas,  beliefs,  pre- 
judices, and  still  more  the  similarities  of  literary  manner, 
style,  and  language,  supply  an  overwhelming  body  of 
evidence  that  the  Anecdota  are  a  genuine,  and  so  far  as 
his  deep-seated,  feelings  go  the  most  genuine,  work  of 
Procopius.  The  question,  which  ought  never  to  have  been 
deemed  doubtful,  has  been  set  at  rest  by  the  careful  com- 
parison of  the  use  of  words  and  phrases  in  the  acknow- 
ledged works  of  Procopius  and  in  the  Anecdota,  which 
we  owe  to  the  industry  of  Dr  Felix  Dahn,  and  which  is 
set  forth  in  his  excellent  book  mentioned  at  the  close  of 
this  article.  It  is  less  easy  to  pronounce  on  the  credibility 
of  the  picture  which  the  Anecdota  give  of  the  court  and 
government  of  Justinian.  Plainly  there. are  many  exag- 
gerations and  some  absurdities;  yet,  when  we  find  some  of 
the  severest  statements  of  the  book  confirmed  by  other 
annalists  and  others  substantially  tallying  with  or  explain- 
ing those  made  by  Procopius  himself  in  the  Histories,  we 
are  led  to  conclude  that  there  is  a  substantial  basis  of  fact 
for  the  charges  it  brings.  It  is  of  course  often  diflicult. 
sometimes  impossible,  to  say  what  deductions  must  be 
made  from  the  form  these  charges  take;  but  after  study- 
ing the  book  closely  one  becomes  rather  less  than-  more 
sceptical. 

In  point  of  style,  the  Anecdota  are  inferior  to  the 
Histojies,  and  have  the  air  of  being  unfinished  or  at  least 
unrevised.  Their  merit  lies  in  the  fiu-ious  earnestness 
with  which  they  are  written,  and  which  gives  them  a 
force  and  reality  sometimes  wanting  in  the  more  elaborate 
books  written  for  publication. 

The  character  of  a  man  who  could  revenge  himself  for 
having  been  obliged  to  bestow  gross  flattery  on  his  sove- 
reign by  ferocious  invective  meant  to  be  launched  after 
his  death  inspiixs  little  respect.  Otherwise  Procopius  is 
a  favourable  specimen  of  his  ago.  Ho  is  patriotic,  with  a 
strong  feeling  for  the  greatness  of  tho  empire,  its  dignity, 
the  preservation  of  its  ancient  order.  He  is  a  worshipper 
of  tha  past,  whoso  ideal  is  such  a  government  as  that 
of  Trajan  or  Hadrian.  His  ethical  standard  is  scarcely 
affected  by  Christianity,  but  is  that  of  a  Greek  of  ckssical 
times,  with  too  great  a  tolerance  of  deceit  when  practised 
against  barbarian  enemies,  dnd  doubtless  also  with  a  d»l 
ficient  senso  of  honour  and  personal  independence.  Yet 
his  patriotism  does  not  prevent  him  from  doing  justice 
to  tho  valour  of  the  Persians,  or  tho  still  finer  qualities 
of  tho  Goths  ns  he  had  learnt  to  know  them  in  Italy. 
He  i-s,  however,  frigid  in  sentiment  as  well. as  in  style, 
and  throws  littlo  geniality  into  his  narratives  and  de- 
scriptions. In  his  attitude  towards  tho  unseen  world 
ho  is  at  once  sceptical  and  sujicrstitious — sceptical  in 
that  he  speaks  with  equal  hesitation  about  the  practices 

'  Anecdota  eintne  taripta  a  rrocopio  Ctsariensi  ingviriiur,  Broslau, 
1858. 


792 


P  K  O  —  1'  K  O 


and 'doctrines  of  different  faiths,  and  declares  las  persua- 
sion that  nothing  more  can  be  known  about  God  than 
that  He  is  all-wise  and  all-powerful ;  superstitious  in  his 
readiness  to  accept  all  kinds  of  marvels,  omens,  prophecies, 
apparitions,. and  to  find  in  (he  sudden  changes  of  human 
affairs  the  action  of  a  spiteful  fortune  which  delights  to 
startle  men  and  confound  their  schemes;  Procopius  has 
little  philosophy  in  his  history ;  he  is  a  vague  and  incon- 
sistent thinker,  and  is  strongest  when  he  is  describing 
events  or  facts,  or  .drawing  such  direct  inferences  from 
them  as  strike  an  acute  man  of  the  world. 

The  best  edition  of  Procopius  is  that  by  DinJorf  in  the 
Corpus  Scriptorum  Historix  Bijzanlvim,  3  vols.,  Bonn,  1833-38. 
The  best  criticisms  and  examinations  of  his  writings  are  those 
by  W.  S.  Teuffel,  in  his  Studicn  %tnd  CharaktcristikcH  zur  Lilera- 
titrgcschicJite,  Leipsic,  1871  ;  and  F.  Dalin^  Prokopius  von  Cdsarca, 
Berlin,  1865.  (J.  BR.) 

PROCOPIUS.  Two  leaders  of  this  name  are  mentioned 
m  connexion  with  the  wars  of  the  Hussites  {q.v.). 

I.  Andreas  Procopius,  surnamed  "the  Great"  or  "the 
Bald,"  was  a  native  of  Bohemia,  born  about  1380.  He 
had  travelled  extensively  in  Europe,  and  had  even  visited 
Jerusalem  before  he  received  priestly  orders.  On  the 
outbreak  of  the  Hussite  War  he  joined  Zizka,  and  was 
chosen  to  succeed  him  after  his  death  in  1425.  From 
1426  onwards  he  met  with  a  succession  of  military  suc- 
cesses in  Austria,  Moravia,  Silesia,  and  Hungary  which 
compelled  various  potentates  to  purchase  peace,  and  dis- 
posed even  the  council  of  Basel  to  a  spirit  of  compromise. 
Procopius  and  his  "  Taborites  "  were,  however,  dissatisfied 
with  the  "  Compactata"  which  the  "  Calixtines"  accepted, 
and  resolved  to  carry  on  the  contest.  He  perished  in  the 
decisive  battle  fought  near  Bohmischbrod  on  May  30,  1434. 

II.  Of  Procopius  surnamed  "the  Little"  nothing  is 
known' save  that  he  co-operated  with  Procopius  "  the  Great" 
from  1427  onwards,  and  that  he  shared  his  fate. 

PROCTER,  Bryan  Waller  (1787-1874),  poet  and 
miscellaneous  writer,  was  born  on  the  21st  November 
1787.  At  an  early  age  he  was  sent  to  a  small  boarding 
school  near  London,  and  thence  in  his  thirteenth  year  to 
Harrow,  where  he  had  for  contemporaries  Lord  Byron  and 
Sir  Robert  Peel.  On  leaving  school  he  was  placed  in  the 
oflSce  of  a  solicitor  at  Calne,  Wiltshire,  remaining  there 
until  about  1807,  when  he  returned  to  pursue  his  legal 
studies  in  London.  By  the  death  of  his  father  in  1816  he 
became  possessed  of  a  small  property,  and  soon  after 
entered  into  partnership  with  a  solicitor;  but  in  1820  the 
partnership  was  dissolved,  and  during  the  temporary 
difficulties  thus  occasioned  he  supported  himself  in  part  by 
literary  work  under  the  pseudonym  of  Barry  Cornwall. 
After  his  marriage  in  1824  to  Miss  Skepper,  a  daughter 
of  Mrs  Basil  Montague,  he  returned  to  his  professional 
work  as  conveyancer,  and  was  called  to  the  bar  in  1831. 
In  the  following  year  he  was  appointed  metropolitan  com- 
missioner of  lunacy — an  appointment  annually  renewed 
until  his  election  to  the  permanent  commission  constituted 
by  the  Act  of  1842.  He  resigned  office  in  1861.  During 
the  last  years  of  his  life  a  failure  of  speech  led  him  to 
withdraw  increasingly  from  society,  and  his  death  took 
place  on  October  4,  1874.  The  period  of  his  poetic  pro- 
ductiveness had  closed  many  years  previously,  the  larger 
proportion  of  his  verse  having  been  composed  between 
1815,  when  he  began  to  contribute  to  t]i&  Literart/  Gazette, 
and  1823,  or  at  latest  1832. 

His  principal  works  in  the  verse  form  viere— Dramatic  Scenes  and 
other  Poems  (1819),  A  Sicilian  Story  (1820),  Mirandola,  a  tragedy 
performed  at  Covent  Garden  with  Macready,  Charles  Kemble,  and 
Miss  Foote  in  the  leading  parts  (1821),  The  Flood  of  Thessaly 
(1823),  and  English  Songs  (1832).  He  was  also  the  author  of 
Effigies  Poetica  (1824),  Zije  of  Edmund  Kean  (1835),  Essays  and 
Tales  in  Prose  (1851),  Charles  Lamb;  a  Memoir  (1866),  and  of 
memoirs  of  Ben  Jonson  and  Shakespeare  for  editions  of  their  works. 


A  posthumous  autobiographical  fragment  with  notes  of  his  literary 
friends,  of  whom  he  had  a  wide  range  from  Bowles  to  Browning, 
was  published  in  1877.  His  genius  cannot  btf  said  to  liave  been 
entirely  mimetic,  but  Iiis  works  are  full  of  subdued  echoes.  His 
songs  have  caught  some  notes  from  the  Elizabethan  and  Cavalier 
lyrics,  and  blended  them  with  others  from  the  leading  poets  of  his 
own  time  ;  and  his  dramatic  fragments  show  a  similar  infusioii  of 
tlie  early  Victorian  spirit  into  pre-Restoration  forms  and  cadences.' 
The  results  are  somewhat  heterogeneous,  and  without  the  impress  of 
a  pervading  and  dominant  personality  to  give  them  unity,  but  they 
abound  in  pleasant  touches,  ivith  here  and  there  the  flash  of  a  higlie.r, 
though  casual,  inspiration. 

His  daughter,  Adelaide  Anne  PKOCTEn  (1825-1 86i),  also  attained 
some  distinction  as  a  poet,  her  principal  works  being  her  Legends 
and  Lyrics,  of  which  a  first  series,  published  in  1858,  ran  through 
nine  editions  in  seven  3'ears,  and  a  second  series  issued  in  1860  met 
with  a  similar  success.  Her  unambitious  verses  dealing  witli  simple 
emotional  themes  in  a  simple  manner  have  a  charm  which  is 
scarcely  explicable  on  the  ground  of  high  literary  merit,  but  which 
is  due  rather  to  the  fact  that  they  are  the  cultured  expression  of  an 
earnest  and  beneficent  life.  Latterly  she  became  a  convert  to  Roman 
Catholicism,  and  her  philanthropic  zeal  appears  to  have  hastened 
her  death,  which  took  place  February  3,  1864. 

PROCTOR,  the  English  form  of  the  Latin  j)romrator, 
denotes  a  person  who  acts  for  another,  and  so  approaches 
very  nearly  in  meaning  to  Agent  (q.v.).  The  word  is  used 
in  three  senses.  (1)  A  particular  kind  of  university  official. 
(2)  A  representative  of  the  clergy  in  convocation.  A 
proctor  represents  either  the  chapter  of  a  cathedral  or  the 
beneficed  clergy  of  a  diocese.  In  the  province  of  Canter- 
bury two  proctors  represent  the  clergy  of  each  diocese  ;  in 
that  of  York  there  are  two  for  each  archdeaconry.  In  both 
alike  each  chapter  is  represented  by  one.  (3)  A  practi- 
tioner in  the  ecclesiastical  and  admiralty  courts.  A  proctor 
is  a  qualified  person  licensed  by  the  archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury to  undertake  duties  such-as  are  performed  in  other 
courts  by  solicitors.  The  word  in  this  sense  is  now  only 
of  historical  interest.  The  effect  of  recent  legislation  is 
that  all  the  business  formerly  confined  to  proctors  may 
now  be  conducted  by  solicitors.  The  instrument  by  which 
a  procurator  or  proctor  is  appointed  is  called  a  proxi/,  a 
term  also  applied  to  the  representative  himself.  Proxies 
are  still  in  use  in  bankruptcy  and  in  some  of  the  Vice- 
Admiralty  Courts.  Formerly  peers  could  give  their  vote 
in  parliament  by  proxy,  but  this  right  was  discontinued 
by  the  standing  order  of  March  31,  1868.  A  shareholder 
in  a  joint-stock  company  may  vote  by  proxy.  A  proxy 
must,  by  the  Stamp  Act,  1870,  bear  a  penny  stamp. 

There  are  no  proctors  in  the  United  States.  In  Scotland  the 
original  term  procurator  is  used  to  denote  a  law  agent  who  practises 
in  an  inferior  court.  A  procurator  has  been,  since  the  Law  Agents 
Act,  1873,  exactly  in  the  same  legal  position  as  other  law  agents.1 
"The  procurator-fiscal  is  a  local  officer  charged  with  the  prosecution' 
of  crimes.  He  is  appointed  by  the  sheritf.  He  also  performs  the 
duties  of  an  English  coroner  by  holding  inquiries  into  the  circum-^ 
stances  of  suspicious  deaths. 

PRODICUS  of  Ceos,  whose  birth  is "  conjecturally 
assigned  to  465-460  B.C.,  was  a  humanist  of  the  first 
period  of  the  Sophistical  movement.  He  was  still  livinj,' 
in  399  B.C.  Visiting  Athens,  in  the  first  instance  (it  is 
said)  as  the  accredited  agent  of  his  native  island,  he  be- 
came known  in  the  intellectual  capital  as  a  good  speaker 
and  a  successful  teacher.  Like  Protagoras,  he  professed 
to  train  his  pupils  for  domestic  and  civic  affairs ;  but  it 
would  appear  that,  while  Protagoras's  chief  instruments 
of  education  were  rhetoric  and  style,  Prodicus  made  ethics 
prominent  in  his  curriculum.  As  a  moralist  he  seems  to 
have  been  orthodox,  neither  impugning  nor  developing 
traditional  notions.  In  his  literary  teaching  he  laid  special 
stress  upon  distinctions  in  the  use  of  words.  The  Platonic- 
Socrates  (as  well  as  Aristophanes)  speaks  of  Prodicus  with 
a  certain  respect,  earned  perhaps  by  his  simple  though 
conventional  morality ;  but  it  is  easy  to  see  that  Plato 
thought  him  affected  and  pedantic,  and  did  not  rank  him 
either  with  Protagoras _ as _ a. thinker. or ^withjGprgias^a 


IMt  O  —  P  R  O 


793 


a  stylist.  Two  of  Prodicus's  discourses  were  especially 
famous :  one,  "  on  propriety  of  language,"  is  repeatedly 
alluded  to  by  Plato  ;  the  other,  entitled,  wpai,  contained 
the  celebrated  apologue  of  the  choice  of  Heracles,  of  which 
the  Xenophontean  Socrates  (Afem.,  ii.  1,  21  sq.)  gives  a 
summary.  Theramenes,  Euripides,  and  Isocrates  are  said 
to  have  been  pupils  or  hearers  of  Prodicus.  •  For  some 
personal  traits,  and  a  caricature  of_his  teaching,  see  Plato's 
Protar/oras,  315  C  sq.,  337  A  sq. 

On  the  Sophistical  movement,  as  well  as  for  bibliographical 
i«formation,  see  Sophists. 

PROHIBITION  is  defined  by  Blackstone  as  "a  writ 
directed  to  the  judge  and  parties  of  a  suit  in  any  inferior 
court,  commanding  them  to  cease  from  the  prosecution 
thereof,  upon  a  surmise  either  that  the  cause  originally  or 
some  collateral  matter  arising  therein  does  not  belong  to 
that  jurisdiction,  but  to  the  cognizance  of  some  other 
court."  A  writ  of  prohibition  is  a  prerogative  writ — that 
is  to  say,  it  does  not  issue  as  of  course,  but  is  granted 
only  on  proper  grounds  being  shown.  Before  the  Judica- 
ture Acts  prohibition  was  granted  'by  one  of  the  Superior 
Courts  at  Westminster ;  it  also  issued  in  certain  cases  from 
the  Court  of  Chancery.  It  is  now  granted  by  the  High 
Court  of  Justice.  Up  to  1875  the  High  Court  of  Ad- 
miralty was  for  the  purposes  of  prohibition  an  inferior 
court.  But  now  by  the  Judicature  Act,  1873,  36  <fe  37 
Vict.  c.  66,  §  24,  it  is  provided  that  no  proceeding  in  the 
High  Court  of  Justice  or  the  Court  of  Appeal  is  to  be 
restrained  by  prohibition,  a  stay  of  proceedings  taking 
its  place  where  necessary.  The  Admiralty  Division  being 
now  one  of  the  divisions  of  the  High  Court  can  therefore 
no  longer  be  restrained  by  prohibition.  The  courts  to 
which  it  mqst  frequently  issues  in  the  present  day  are  the 
ecclesiastical  courts,  and  county  and  other  local  courts, 
such  as  the  Lord  Mayor's  Court  of  London,  the  Court  of 
Passage  of  the  city  of  Liverpool,  and  the  Court  of  Kecord 
of  the  hundred  of  Salford.  In  the  case  of  courts  of 
quarter  sessions,  the  same  result  is  generally  obtained  by 
certiorari.  The  extent  to  which  the  ecclesiastical  courts 
were  restrainable  by  prohibition  led  to  continual  disputes 
for  centuries  between  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  authorities. 
Attempts  were  made  at  different  times  to  define  the  scope 
of  the  writ,  the  most  conspicuous  instances  being  the  statute 
Circumspecte  Agalis,  13  Edw.  I.  st.  4;  the  Arliculi  Cleri, 
9  Edw.  II.  St.  1 ;  and  the  later  Arliculi  Cleri  of  3  Jac.  I., 
consisting  of  the  claims  asserted  by  Archbishop  Bancroft 
and  the  reply  of  the  judges.  The  law  seems  to  bo  un- 
doubted that  the  spiritual  court  acting  in  spiritual  matters 
pro  salute  animx  cannot  be  restrained.  The  difliculties 
arise  in  the  application  of  the  principle  to  individual  cases. 

Prohibition  lies  either  before  or  after  judgment.  In 
order  that  proceedings  should  be  restrained  after  judgment 
it  is  necessary  that  want  of  jurisdiction  in.  the  inferior 
court  should  appear  upon  the  face  of  the  proceedings,  that 
the  party  seeking  the  prohibition  should  have  taken  his 
objection  in  the  inferior  court,  or  that  he  was  in  ignorance 
of  a  material  fact.  A  prohibition  goes  either  for  excess 
of  jurisdiction,  as  if  an  -ecclesiastical  court  were  to  try 
ft  claim  by  prescription  to  a  pew,  or  for  transgression  of 
clear  laws  of  procedure,  as  if  such  a  court  were  to  require 
two  witnesses  to  prove  a  payment  of  tithes.  It  will  not 
as  A  rule  be  awarded  on  a  matter  of  practice.  The  remedy 
in  such  a  case  is  appeal.  Nor  will  it  go,  unless  in  excep- 
tional cases,  at  the  instance  of  a  stranger  to  the  suit.  The 
l)rocedure  in  prohibition  is  partly  common  law,  partly 
statutory.  By  50  Edw.  III.  c.  4  prohibition  is  not  to  bo 
awarded  after  consultation,  i.e.,  after  the  judges  of  the 
superior  court  have  remitted  the  case  as  within  the  juris- 
diction of  the  inferior  court.  1  Will.  IV.  c.  21  (an  Act  to 
jinpro\e  the  i^irocecdiiigs  in  prohibition  and  on   writs  of 


mandamus)  was  repealed  as  to  England  by  46  &  47  Vict, 
c.  49,  but  it  still  applies  to  Ireland,  to  which  it  was 
extended  by  9  &  10  Vict.  c.  113.  Application  for  a  pro- 
hibition is  usually  made  ex  parte  to  a  judge  in  chambers 
on  affidavit.  The  application  may  be  granted  or  refused. 
If  granted,  a  rule  to  show  cause  why  a  writ  of  prohibition 
should  not  issue  goes  to  the  inferior  judge  and  the  other 
party.  In  prohibition  to  courts  other  than  county  courts 
pleadings  in  prohibition  may  be  ordered.'  These  pleadings 
are  as  far  as  possible  assimilated  to  pleadings  in  actions.' 
They  are  rare  in  practice,  and  are  only  ordered  in  cases  of 
great  difficulty  and  importance.  In  prohibition  to  county 
courts  they  cannot  be  ordered,  19  &  20  Vict.  c.  108,  §  42. 
Further  statutory  regulations  as  to  prohibition  to  county 
courts  are  contained  in  §§  40,  41,  and  44  of  the  same  Act, 
and  in  13  &  14  Vict.  c.  61,  §  22.  Much  learning  on  the 
subject  of  prohibition  will  be  found  in  the  opinion  of  Mr 
Justice  Wills  delivered  to  the  House  of  Lords  in  The 
Mayor  and  Aldermen  of  London  _f.  Cox  (Za«o  Reports, 
2  Eng.  and  Ir.  Appeals,  239). 

In  Scotch  law  pvohibitiou  is  not  used  in  the  English  sense.  The 
same  result  is  obtained  by  suspension  or  reduction.  In  the  Uniled 
States  the  supreme  court  has  power  to  issue  n  prohibition  to  the 
district  courts  when  proceeding  as  courts  ol'adfniralty  and  maritime 
jurisdiction.  Most  of  the  States  have  also- their  own  law  upon  the 
subject,  generally  giving  power  to  the  supreme  judicial  authority 
in  the  State  to  prohibit  courts  of  inferior  jurisdiction.- 

PROJECTILES.  See  Mechanics  (vol.  xv.  pp.  682  sq., 
706  sq.)  and  Gun:nery. 

PROJECTION.  If  from  a  f^xed  point  S  in  space  lines 
or  rays  be  drawn  to  different  points  A,B,C,  ...  in  space,' 
and  if  these  rays  are  cut  by  a  plane  in  points  A',B',C',  .  .  . 
the  latter  are  called  the  projections  of  the  given  points  On 
the  plane.  Instead  of  the  plane  another  surface  may  be 
taken,  and  then  the  points  are  projected  to  that  surface 
instead  of  to  a  plafie.  In  this  manner  any  figure,  plane 
or  in  space  of  three  dimensions,  may  be  projected  to  any 
surface  from  any  point  which  is  called  the  centre  of  pro- 
jection. If  the  figure  projected  is  in  three  dimensions 
then  this  projection  is  the  same  as  that  used  in  what  is 
generally  known  as  perspective. 

In  modern  mathematics  the  word  projecfion  'is  often 
taken  with  a  slightly  diff"erent  meaning,  supposing  that 
plane  figures  are  projected  into  plane  figures,  but  three- 
dimensional  ones  into  three-dimensional  figures.  Projec- 
tion in  this  sense,  when  treated  by  coordinate  geometry, 
leads  in  its  algebraical  fispect  to  the  theory  of  linear  substi- 
tution and  hence  to  the  theory  of  invariants  and  co-variants. 

In  this  article  projection  will  be  treated  from  a  purely 
geometrical  point  of  view. 

We  shall  first  and  principally  treat  of  the  projection  of 
plane  figures  into  plane  figures,  and  consider  a  number  of 
special  cases  due  to  special  positions  of  the  two  planes  or 
of  the  centre  of  projection.  We  shall  next  consider  the 
representation  of  figures  of  three  dimensions  by  piano 
figures  (orthographic  projections,  drawing  in  plan  and 
elevation,  &,c.),  tlien  treat  o£  perspective  in  its  ordinary 
sense,  and  speak  shortly  of  projections  to  curved  surfaces. 

References  like  (G.  §  87)  relate  to  section  II.  of  the  article 
Geometry,  vol.  x.  pp.  388  sq. 

§  i;  PnojECTioN  OF  Plane  FiouttEs. — Lot  ns  suppose  we  have  m 
space  two  ]ihines  it  and  ir'.  In  the  l>lano  ir  a  figure  is  given  having 
known  projierties  :  then  wo  have  the  problem  to  find  its  iiroiection 
from  some  centre  S  to  the  plane  ir',  and  to  dciluco  from  the  known 
properties  of  the  given  figure  the  ))ioperliea  of  the  new  one. 

If  a  point  A  is  given  in  the  plane  w  we  have  to  join  it  to  the 
centre  S  and  find  tlio  point  A'  where  this  ray  S/V  cuts  the  plono 
it';  it  is  the  projection  of  A.  On  the  other  hand  if  A'  ia  given  in 
the  plane  »',  then  A  will  be  its  projection  in  «-.  Hence  \f  one 
fgiirc  in  ir'  i.i  the  projection  of  another  in  w,  then  conver-^cli/  the  tatter 
is  also  the  projection  of  the  former. 

A  point  and  its  projection  are  therefore  nlso  called  correspon<?ing 
points,  and  similarly  we  speak  of  wrrcsupudiag  lines  on  J  curves,  4  c. 


794 


P  II  O  J  E  ,C  T  r  0  N 


§  2.   Wc  at  once  get  the  follovnng  properties : — 

The  projection  of  n  point  is  a  point,  and  one  point  only. 

The  projection  of  a  line  {straight  line)  is  a  line  ;  for  all  points  in 
a  line  are  projected  by  rays  which  lie  in  the  plane  determined  by  S 
and  the  line,  and  this  plane  cuts  the  plane  w'  in  a  line  which  is  the 
projection  of  the  given  line. 

Ifapoint  lies  in  a  line  its  projection  lies  in  the  projection  of  Vic  line. 

The  ■projection  of  the  line  joining  two  points  A,  B  is  the  line  which 
joins  the  projections  A',  B'  of  the  points  A,  B.  For  the  projecting 
plane  of  the  line  AB  contains  the  rays  SA,  SB  which  project  the 
points  A,  B. 

The  projection  of  the  point  of  intersection  of  two  lines  a,  h  is  the 
point  nf  intersection  of  the  projections  a',  b'  of  those  lines. 

Similarly  we  get — 

The  projection  of  a  curve  will  he  a  curve. 

The  projections  of  the  points  of  intersection  of  two  curves  are  the 
points  of  intersection  of  the  projections  of  the  given  curves. 

If  a  line  ents  a  curve  in  n  points,  then  the  projection  of  the  line 
cuts  the  projection  of  the  curve  in  n  points.     Or 

The  order  of  a  curve  remains  unaltered  by  projection. 

The  projection  of  a  tangent  to  a  curve  is  a  tangent  to  the  projection 
of  the  curve.  For  the  tangent  is  a  line  which  has  two  coincident 
points  in  common  with  a  curve. 

The  number  of  tangents  that  can  be  drawn  from  a  point  to  a 
curve  remains  unaltered  by  projection.     Or 

The  clasj  of  a  curve  remains  unaltered  by  projection. 

Example.  — The  projection  of  a  circle  is  a  curve  of  the  second  order 
and  second  class. 

§  3.  Two  figures  of  which  one  is  a  projection  of  the  other  ob- 
tained in  the  manner  described  may  be  moved  out  of  the  position 
in  which  they  are  obtained.  They  are  then  still  s."iid  to  be  one  the 
projection  of  the  other,  or  to  be  projective  or  homographic.  But 
when  they  are  in  the  position  originally  considered  they  are  said 
to  be  in  perspective  position,  or  (shorter)  to  be  perspective. 

All  the  properties  stated  in  gj  1,  2  hold  for  figures  which  are 
projective,  whether  they  are  perspective  or  not.  There  are  others 
which  hold  only  for  projective  figures  when  they  are  in  perspective 
position,  which  we  shall  now  consider. 

If  two  planes  tt  and  ir'  are  perspective,  then  their  line  of  inter- 
section is  called  the  axis  of  projection.  Any  point  in  this  line 
coincides  with  its  projection.     Hence 

All  paints  in  the  axis  are  their  own  projections.     Hence  also 

Every  line  meets  its  projection  cm  the  axis. 

The  property  that  the  linos  joining  corresponding  points  all  pass 
through  a  common  point,  that  any  pair  of  corresponding  points 
and  the  centre  are  in  a  line,  is  also  expressed  by  saying  that  the 
figures  are  co-linear  ;  and  the  fact  that  both  figures  have  a  line,  the 
axis,  in  common  on  which  corresponding  lines  meet  is  expressed  by 
saying  that  the  figures  are  oo-axal. 

The  connexion  between  these  properties  has  to  be  investigated. 

For  this  purpose  we  consider  in  the  plane  w  a  triangle  ABC,  and 
let  the  lines  BC,  CA,  AB  bo  denoted  by  a,  b,  c.  The  projection 
will  consist  of  three  points  A',  B',  C  and  three  lines  a',  b',  c'.  These 
have  such  a  position  that  the  lines  AA',  BB',  CC  meet  in  a  point, 
viz.,  at  S,  and  the  points  of  intersection  of  a  and  a',  b  and  b',  c  and 
C*  lie  on  the  axis  (by  §  2).  The  two  triangles  therefore  are  saiii 
to  be  both  co-linear  and  co-axal.  Of  these  properties  either  is  a 
conseq^uence  of  the  other,  as  will  now  be  proved. 

§  4.  Des.a.rg0e's  theorem. — If  two  triangles,  whether  in  ike 
same  plane  or  not,  are  co-linear  they  are  co-axal.     Or 

If  the  lines  AA',  BB',  CC  joining  the  vertices  of  two  triangles  meet 
in  a  point,  then  the  intersi.Jions  of  the  sides  BC  and  B'C,  CA  and 
C'A',  AB  and  A'B'  are  three  points  in  a  line.     Conversely, 

If  two  triangles  are  co-axal  they  are  co-linear.     Or 

if  the  intersection  of  the  sides  of  two  triangles  ABC  and  A'B'O', 
viz.,  of  BC  and  B'C,  of  CA  and  C'A', 
and  of  AU  and  A'B',  lie  in  a  line, 
then  the  lines  AA',  BB',  and  CC  meet 
in  a  point. 

Proof. — Let  us  first  suppose  the 
triaugles  to  be  in  different  planes. 
By  supposition  the  lines  AA',  BB', 
CC  (fig.  1)  meft  in  a  point  S.  But 
three  intersecting  lines  determine 
three  planes,  SBC,  SCA,  and  SAB. 
In  the  first  lie  the  points  B,  C  and 
also  B',  C.  Hence  tlie  lines  BC  and 
B'C  will  intersect  at  some  point  P, 
because  any  two  lines  iu  the  .same 

iilane  intersect.  Similarly  CA  and 
;'A'  will  intersect  at  some  point  Q, 
and  AB  and  A'B'  at  some  point  R. 
These  points  P,  Q,  R  lie  in  the 
plane  of  the  triangle  ABC  because 
they  arc  points  on  the  sides  of  this  triangle,  and  similarly  in  the 
piano  of  the  triangle  A'B'C-  Hence  they  lie  in  the  intersection  of 
two  jilaucs,— that  is.  in  a  Unt. 


Secondly,  If  the  triangles  ABC  and  A'B'C  lie  botti  in  the  same 
plane  the  above  proof  does  not  hold.  In  this  case  we- may  consider 
the  plane  figure  as  the  projection  of  the  figure  in  space  of  which 
we  have  just  proved  the  theorem.  Let  ABC,  A'B'C  be  the 
co-linear  tiiangles  with  S  as  centre,  so  that  AA',  BB',  CC  meet  at 
S.  Take  now  any  jioint  in  space,  say  your  eye  E,  and  from  it 
draw  the  r.rys  projecting  the  figure.  In  the  line  ES  take  any  point 
Sj,  and  in  EA,  EB,  EC  take  points  Aj,  B,,  C,  respectively,  but  so 
that  Si,  A-^,  B,,  Ci  are  not  in  a  plane.  In  the  plane  ESA  which 
projects  the  line  SjAj  lie  then  the  line  SjAj  and  also  EA' ;  these 
will  therefore  meet  iu  a  point  A'j,  of  which  A'  will  be  the  projec- 
tion. Similarly  points  B'j,  C,  are  found.  Hence  we  have  now  iu 
space  two  triangles  AiBjCj  and  A'lB'iCj  which  are  co-linear.  They 
are  therefore  co-axal,  that  is,  the  points  P,,  Q„  Rj,  where  A|B,, 
&c.,  meet  will  lie  in  a  line.  Their  projections  therefore  lie  iu  a. 
line.  But  these  are  the  poiiits  P.  Q,  R,  which  were  to  be  proved 
to  lie  in  a  line. 

This  proves  the  first  part  of  the  theorem.  The  second  part  or 
converse  theorem  is  proved  in  exactly  the  same  way.  For  anothei 
proof  see  (G.  §  37). 

§  5.  By  aid  of  Dcsargue's  theorem  we  can  now  prove  a  funda- 
mental property  of  two  projective  planes. 

Let  s  be  the  axis,  S  the  centre,  and  let  A,  A'  and  B,  B'  be  two 
pairs  of  corresponding  points  which  we  suppose  fixed,  and  C,  C  any 
other  pair  of  corresponding  points.  Then  the  triangles  ABC  and 
A'B'C  are  co-axal,  and  they  will  remain  co-axal  if  the  one  plane  ir' 
be  turned  relative  to  the  other  about  the  axis.  They  will  therefor*, 
by  Desargue's  theorem,  remnin  co-linear,  and  the  centre  will  be  the 
point  S',  where  AA'  meets  BB'.  Hence  the  line  joining  any  pair 
of  corresponding  points  C,  C  will  pass  through  the  centre  S'.  The 
figures  are  therefore  perspective.  This  will  remain  true  if  tiio 
planes  are  turned  till  they  coincide,  because  Dcsargue's  theormn 
remains  true. 

Theorem. — If  two  planes  are  perspective,  then  if  the  one  plane  be 
turned  about  the  axis  through  any  angle,  especially  if  the  one  plane 
be  turned  till  it  coincides  leilh  the  other,  the  two  planes  will  remain 
perspective ;  corresponding  lines  loill  still  meet  on  a  line  called  the 
axis,  and  the  lines  joining  corresponding  points  will  still  pass  throvqk- 
a  comm&n  centre  S  situated  in  the  plane. 

Whilst  the  one  plane  is  turned  this  point  S  will  move  in  a  cirrh 
whose  centre  lies  in  the  plane  jr,  lohich  is  kept  fixed,  and  whose  pl.t- 
is  perpendicular  to  the  axis. 

The  last  part  will  be  proved  presently.  As  the  plane  x'  may  bo 
turned  about  the  axis  in  one  or  the  opposite  sense,  there  will  be 
two  perspective  positions  possible  when  the  planes  coincide. 

§  6.  Let  (fig.  2)  IT,  it'  be  the  planes  intersecting  in  the  axis  >-, 
whilst  S  is  the  centre  of  projection. 
To  project  a  point  A  in  ir  we  join  A 
to  S  and  see  where  this  line  cuts  tt'. 
This  gives  the  point  A'.  But  if  we 
draw  through  S  any  line  parallel  to  x, 
then  this  line  will  cut  tt'  in  some  point 
r,  and  if  all  lines  through  S  be  drawn 
which  are  parallel  to  w  these  will  form 
a  plane  parallel  to  ir  which  will  cut 
the  plane  tt'  in  a  line  i'  parallel  to  the 
axis  s.  If  wo  say  that  a  lino  parallel 
to  a  plane  cuts  the  latter  at  an  infinite 
distance,  we  may  say  that  all  points  at 
an  infinite  distance  in  ir  are  projected 
into  points  which  lie  in  a  straight  line 
i',  and  conversely  all  points  in  the  line  i 
are  projected  to  an  infinite  distance  in 
TT,  whilst  all  other  points  are  projected 
to  finite  points. 

at  an  infinite  distance  may  bo  considered  as  lying  in  a  straight  line, 
because  their  projections  lie  in  a  line.  Thus  we  are  again  led  to 
consider  points  at  infinity  in  a  plane  as  lying  in  a  line  (comp.  G. 
§§  2-4). 

Similarly  there  is  a  line  j  in  v  which  is  projected  to  infinity  in 
tt'  ;  this  projection  shall  be  denoted  by/  so  that  i  and/  ar*  lines 
at  infinity.  ^ 

§  7.  If  we  sujipose  through  S  a  plane  drawn  perpendiculkr  to 
the  axis  s  cutting  it  at  T,  and  in  this  plane  the  two  lines  SF 
parallel  to  tt  and  SJ  par.iUel  to  ir',  then  the  lines  through  I'  and  J 
parallel  to  the  axis  will  be  the  lines  i'  andj.  At  the  same  time 
a  parallelogram  SJTI'S  has  been  formed.  If  now  the  plane  ir'  be 
turned  about  the  axis,  then  the  points  1'  and  J  will  not  move  in 
their  planes  ;  hence  the  lengths  'TJ  and  TI',  and  therefore  also  SI' 
and  SJ,  will  not  change.  If  the  plane  t  is  kept  fixed  in  space  llie 
point  J  will  remain  fixed,  and  S  describes  a  circle  about  J  as  centre 
and  with  SJ  as  radius.  This  proves  the  last  part  of  the  theorem 
in  §  5.  _  _ 

§  8.  The  plane  ir'  may  be  turned  either  in  the  sense  indicated 
by  the  arrow  at  Z  or  in  the  opposite  sense  till  ir'  falls  into  r.  In 
the  first  case  we  get  a  htruro  like  fig.  3  ;  i'  and  j  will  be  on  the 
same  side  of  the  axis,  and  on  this  side  \viU  also  lie  tho  centre  S; 


Fig.  2. 
We  say  therefore  that  all  points  in  the  plane  *■ 


PROJECTION 


795 


lad  then  8T-SJ  +  SI'  or  SI'-JT,  SJ-IT.    In  the  second  caae 
16g.  4)  i'  and  J  will  ba  on  opposite  sides  of  the  axis,  and  the  centre 

I'  _ 


8_ 

C J^ 

J  ^ 


Fig.  3. 


Fig.  4. 


8  will  lie  between  them  in  such  a  position  that  I'S— TJ  and 
IT-SJ.     If  rS-SJ,  the  point  S  will  lie  on  the  axis. 

It  follows  that  any  one  of  the  four  points  S,  T,  J,  I'  is  completely 
determined  by  tho  other  three  :  if  the  axis,  the  centre,  and  one  of 
tlie  lines  i'  or  j  are  given  the  other  is  determined  ;  the  three  lines 
$,  i', }  determine  the  centre  ;  the  centre  and  the  lines  t",  j  deter- 
mine the  axis. 

§  9.  We  shall  now  suppose  that  the  two  projective  planes  x,  «■' 
are  perspective  and  have  been  made  to  coincide. 

Theorem. — If  the  centre,  the  axis,  and  either  one  pair  of  corre- 
ipondiny  points  on  a  line  through  the  ceyilre  or  one  pair  of  corre- 
tponding  lines  meeting  on  the  axis  art  given,  then  the  whole  prqjeclicn 
is  determined. 

Proof. — If  A  and  A'  (fig.  1)  are  given  corresponding  points,  it 
has  to  be  shown  that  wo  can  find  to  every  other  point  B  the  cor- 
tesponding  point  B'.  Join  AB  to  cut  the  axis  in  R.  Join  RA' ; 
then  B'  must  lie  on  this  line.  But  it  must  also  lie  on  the  line  SB. 
Where  both  meet  is  B'.  That  the  figures  thus  obtained  are  really 
projective  can  be  seen  by  aid  of  Desargue's  theorem.  For,  if  for 
any  point  C  the  corresponding  point  C  be  found,  then  the  triangles 
ABC  and  A'B'C  are,  by  construclion,  co-linear,  hence  co-axal ; 
and  J  will  be  the  axis,  because  A3  and  AC  meet  their  corresponding 
lines  A'B'  and  A'C  on  it.     BG  and  B'C  therefore  also  meet  on  s. 

If  on  the  other  hand  a,  a'  are  given  corresponding  lines,  then 
any  line  through  S  will  cut  them  in  corresponding  points  A,  A' 
which  may  be  used  as  above. 

§  10.  Rows  and  pencils  which  are  projective  or  perspective  have 
been  considered  in  the  article  Geometry  (G.  §§  12-40).  All  that 
bas  been  said  there  holds,  of  course,  here  for  anypair  of  correspond- 
ing rows  or  pencils.  Tho  centre  of  perspective  for  any  pair  of 
corresponding  rows  is  at  the  centre  of  projection  S,  whilst  the  axis 
contains  coincident  corresponding  elements.  Corresponding  pencils 
on  the  other  hand  have  their  axis  of  perspective  on  the  aiis  of 
projection  whilst  the  coincident  rays  pass  through  the  centre. 

Wo  mention  here  a  few  of  those  properties  which  are  indepen- 
dent of  the  perspective  position  : — 

The  correspondence  between  two  projective  rows,  or  pencils,  is  com- 
pletely determined  if  to  three  elements  in  on«  the  corresponding  ones 
i*  the  other  are  given.  If  for  instance  in  two  projective  rows  three 
pairs  of  corresponding  points  arcgiven,  then  we  can  find  to  every 
Other  point  in  either  the  corrtisponding  point  (G.  §§  29-36). 

If  A,  B,  C,  D  are  four  points  in  a  row  and  A',  B',  C,  V  the  corre- 
tponding  points,  then  their  cross-ratios  are  equal  (ABCD)  —  f  A'B'C'D'), 
—where  (ABCD)-AC/CB  :  AD/DB. 

If  in  particular  the  point  D  lies  at  infinity  we  have  (ABCD)  — 
-  AC/CB-AC/BC.  If  therefore  the  points  D  and  U  are  botli  at 
infinity  we  have  AC/BC  =  AD/BD^  and  tho  rows  are  similar  (0.  § 
89).  This  can  only  happen  in  special  cases.  For  the  line  joining 
corresponding  points  passes  through  tho  centre  ;  the  latter  must 
therefore  lie  at  infinity  if  D,  D'  are  different  points  at  infinity.  But 
if  D  and  D'  coincide  they  must  lie  on  the  axis,  that  is,  at  the  point 
at  infinity  of  the  axis  unless  the  axis  is  altogether  at  infinity. 

Hence — In  two  perspective  planes  every  row  which  is  parallel  to 
the  axis  is  similar  to  its  corresponding  roxo,  and,  in  general  tio  other 
row  has  this  property. 

£ut  if  the  centre  or  the  axis  is  at  imjinUy  men  every  row  it  tlmilar 
to  its  corresponding  row. 

In  either  of  these  two  cases  the  Metrical  properties  affiT)articn- 
larly  simple.  If  the  axis  is  at  infinity  the  ratio  of  similituQfi  is  the 
sane  for  all  rows  and  the  figures  are  similar.  If  the  centre  is  at 
infinity  wo  got  parallel  projection  ;  and  tho  ratio  of  similitude 
changes  from  row  to  row  (see  §§  16,  17). 

In  both  ccues  the  midpoint*  of  corresponding  ctgmenit  will  he 
corresponding  points. 

§  11.  iNVOltmoN. — If  the  planes  of  two  projective  figures  coin- 
cide, then  every  point  in  their  common  plane  has  to  be  counted 
twice,  once  as  a  point  A  in  the  figure  ir,  onco  as  a  point  B'  in  the 
figu»e  t'.     The  points  A'  and  B  correfiponding  to  them  will  in 

gneral  bo  different  points  ;  but  it  may  happen  Uiot  they  coincide, 
eie  a  theorem  holds  similar  to  that  about  rows  (G.  §§  76  »?.). 


Fig.  6. 


Theorem. — If  two  projectire  planes  coincide,  and  if  it  happeru 
l^at  to  one  point  in  their  common  plane  the  same  point  corresponds, 
whether  we  consider  the  point  as  belonging  to  the  first  or  to  the  second 
plane,  then  the  same  will  happen  for  every  other  point — that  is  to  say, 
to  every  point  will  correspond  the  sotm  point  in  the  first  a*  in  the 
xcond  plane. 

In  this  case  the  figures  are  said  to  be  in  involution. 

Proof— Let  (fig.  6)  S  bo  tbe  centre,  J'the  axis  of  projsctioo,  «nd 
let  a  point  which  has  the 
name  A  in  the  first  plana 
and  B'  in  the  second  have 
the  property  that  the  points 
A'  and  B  corresponding  to 
them  again  coincide.  Let 
0  and  D'  be  the  names 
which  some  other  point  has 
in  the  two  planes.  If  the 
line  AC  cuts  the  axis  in  X, 
then  the  point  where  the 
line  XA'  cuts  SC  will  be 
the  point  C  corresponding 
to  C  (§  9).  The  Une  B'l? 
also  cuts  the  axis  in  X, 
and  therefore  the  point  D 
corresponding  to  D'  is  the 
point  where  X  Bents  SD'.    But  this  is  the  same  point  as  C.    Q.E.D. 

This  point  C  might  also  be  got  by  drawing  CB  and  joining  its 
intersection  Y  with  the  axis  to  B'.  Then  C'  must  be  the  poin< 
where  B'Y  meets  SC.  This  figure,  which  now  forms  a  complete 
quadrilateral,  shows  that  in  order  to  get  involution  the  correspond- 
ing points  A  and  A'  have  to  be  harmonic  conjugates  with.regard  to 
S  and  the  point  T  where  AA'  cuts  the  axis. 

Theorem. — If  two  perspective  figures  are  in  involution,  two  cor- 
responding points  are  harmonic  conjugates  with  regard  to  the  centre 
and  Hie  point  where  tlie  line  joining  them  cuts  the  axis.    Similarly — 

Any  two  corresponding  lines  are  harmonic  conjugates  with  regard 
to  the  axis  and  tlic  Unefrmn  their  point  of  intersection  to  the  centre. 

Conversely — If  in  two  perspective  plants  one  pair  of  corresponding 
points  arc  harmonic  conjugates  with  regard  to  the  centre  and  the 
point  where  the  line  joining  them  cuts  tlie  axis,  then  every  pair  of 
corresponding  points  has  this  property  and  tfu  planes  are  in  involu- 
tion.   

§  12.  Projeotive  Planes  -WHtcH  are  not  in  perspkctiti 
POSITION. — We  return  to  the  case  that  two  planes  ir  and  ir'  ore  pro- 
jective but  not  in  perspective  position,  and  state  in  some  of  the  more 
important  cases  the  conditions  which  determine  the  correspondence 
between  them.  Here  it  is  of  great  advantage  to  start  with  another 
definition  which,  though  at  first  it  may  seem  to  bo  of  far  greater 
generality,  is  in  reality  equivalent  to  the  one  given  before. 

DEFllUTioil.—^JVe  call  two  planes  projective  if  to  evcrypointin  one 
corresponds  a  point  in  the  other,  to  every  line  a  line,  and  to  a  point 
in  a  line  a  point  in  the  corresponding  line,  in  such  a  manner  that  the 
cross-ratio  of  four  points  in  a  line,  or  of  four  rays  in  a  pencil,  is 
equal  to  the  cross-ratio  of  the  corresponding  points  or  rays. 

The  last  part  about  the  equality  of  cross-ratios  can  be  nroved  to 
be  a  consequence  of  the  first  But  as  space  docs  not  allow  us  to 
give  an  exact  proof  for  this  we  include  it  in  the  definition. 

If  one  plane  is  actually  projected  to  another  we  get  %  correspond- 
ence which  has  the  properties  required  in  the  new  definition. 
This  shows  that  a  correspondence  between  two  planes  conform  to 
this  definition  is  possible.  That  it  is  also  definite  we  have  to  show. 
It  follows  at  once  that — 

Corresponding  rotes,  mid  likewise  corresponding  pexeiU,  are  pro- 
jective in  the  old  setise  (G.  f  §  25,  30).     Further, 

If  two  planes  art  projective  to  a  third  they  are  projedivt  to  each 
other. 

Theorem.  —  The  correspondence  letioeen  two  projective  planes  »  and 
t'  is  determined  if  we  have  given  either  ttoo  rows  u,  v  in  »  and  IM* 
corresponding  rows  «',  v^  in  »',  the  poinf  where  u  and  •  vuM  corrt- 
sponding  to  the  points  where  u'  and  \f  meet,  or  tioo  pencils  U,  V  in  w 
and  Oie  corresponding  pmeils  V,  Y'  in  x',  the  ray  1]^ joining  tht  • 
centres  of  the  pencils  in  w  corresponding  to  the  ray  U'V'. 

It  is  sufficient  to  prove  the  first  part  Let  any  line  a  ent  «(,  v 
in  the  points  A  and  B.  To  these  will  correspond  points  A'  and  B' 
in  u'  and  v'  which  arc  known.  To  tho  line  a  corresponds  then  the 
line  ATB'.  Thus  to  every  lino  in  the  one  plane  the  corresponding 
line  in  the  other  can  bo  found,  hence  also  to  every  point  the  corre- 
SDondingpoint.  . 

5  13.  Theorem.— .fji'  tlu  plones  of  two  projedire  figitrm  emnetde, 
'and  if  either  fbur  points,  of  whirJi  no  three  He  in  a  line,  or  else  four 
lines,  of  which  no  three  pass  through  a  point,  in  the  one  coincide 
with  their  corresponding  points,  or  lines,  in  the  c^her,  then  mry  point 
and  every  line  coincides  with  its  corresponding  point  or  line  so  that 
Uu  figures  are  identical. 

If  tho  four  points  A,  B,  C,  D  coincide  with  their  correspondfnff 
points,  then  every  lino  joining  two  of  these  points  will  coincide  with 
lU  corresponding  line.    Thos  the  lines  AB  and  CD.  and  therefore  alaa 


79G 


PROJECTION 


their  point  of  intersection  E,  will  coincide  with  their  corresponding 
elements.  The  row  AB  has  thus  three  points  A,  B,  E  coincident 
with  their  corresponding  points,  and  is  therefore  identical  with  it 
(§  10).  As  there  are  si.x  lines  which  join  two  and  two  of  the  four 
points  A,  B,  C,  D,  there  are  six  lines  such  that  each  point  in  either 
coincides  with  its  corresponding  point.  Every  other  line  will  thus 
have  the  six  points  In  which  it  cuts  these,  and  therefore  all  points, 
coincident  with  their  corresponding  points.  The  proof  of  the  second 
part  is  exactly  the  same.     It  follows — 

§  14.  If  two  projective  figures  which  are  not  identical  lie  in  the 
same  plane,  then  not  more  than  three  points  which  are  not  in  a  line, 
or  three  lines  which  do  not  pass  through  a  point,  can  be  coincident 
with  their  corresponding  points  or  lines. 

If  the  figures  are  in  perspective  position,  then  they  have  in 
common  one  line,  the  axis,  with  all  points  in  it,  and  one  point,  the 
centre,  with  all  lines  through  it.  No  other  point  or  line  can  there- 
fore coincide  with  its  corresponding  point  or  line  without  the  figures 
becoming  identical. 

It  follows  also  that — 

The  correspondence  between  two  projective  planes  is  completely 
determined  if  there  are  given — either  to  four  points  in  the  one  the 
corresponding  four  points  in  the  other  provided  that  no  three  of  them 
lie  in  a  line,  or  to  any  four  lines  the  corresponding  lin.es  provided 
that  no  three  of  them  pass  through  a  point.   , 

To  show  this  we  observe  first  that  two  planes  ir,  r'  may  be  made 
projective  in  such  a  manner  that  four  given  points  A,  B,  C,  D  in  the 
one  correspond  to  four  given  points  A,'  B','C',  D'  in  the  other  ;  for 
to  the  lines  AB,  CD  will  correspond  the  lines  A'B'  and  CD',  and  to 
the  intersection  E  of  the  former  the  point  E'  where  the  latter  meet. 
ThB  correspondence  between  these  rows  is  therefore  determined,  as 
we  know  three  pairs  of  corresponding  points.  But  this  determines 
a  correspondence  (by  §  12).  To  prove  that  in  this  case  and  also  in 
the  case  of  §  12  there  is  but  one  correspondence  possible,  let  us 
suppose  there  were  two,  or  that  we  could  have  in  the  plane  r'  two 
figures  which  are  each  projective  to  the  figure  in  ir  and  which 
have  each  the  points  A'B'C'D'  corresponding  to  the  points  ABCD 
in  IT.  Then  these  two  figures  will  themselves  be  projective  and 
have  four  corresponding  points  coincident  They  are  therefore 
identical  by  §  13. 

Theorem.  —  Two  projective  planes  will  he  in  perspective  position  if 
one  row  coincides  with  its  corresponding  row.  The  line  containing 
these  rows  will  be  the  axis  of  projection. 

Proof. — As  in  this  case  every  point  on  s  coincides  with  its  corre- 
sponding point,  it  follows  that  every  row  a  meets  its  corresponding 
row  a'  on  s  where  corresponding  points  are  united.  The  two  rows 
a,  a'  are  therefore  perspective  (G.  §  30),  and  the  lines  joining 
corresponding  points  will  meet  in  a  point  S.  If  r  be  any  one  of 
these  lines  cutting  a,  a'  in  the  points  A  and  A'  and  the  line  »  at  K) 
then  to  the  line  AK  corresponds  A'K,  or  the  ray  r  corresponds  to 
itself.  The  points  B,  B'  in  which  r  cuts  another  pair  b,  b'  of 
corresponding  rows  must  therefore  be  corresponding  points*  Hence 
the  linos  joining  corresponding  points  in  6  and  b'  also  pass  through 
S.  Similarly  all  lines  joining  corresponding  points  in  the  two 
planes  w  and  ir'  meet  in  S  ;  hence  the  planes  are  perspective. 

The  following  proportion  is  proved  in  a  similar  way  : — 

Theorem. — Two  projective  planes  will  be  in  perspectit>e  position  if 
one  pencil  coincides  with  its  correspoTiding  one.  The  centre  cf  these 
pencils  will  be  the  centre  of  perspective. 

In  this  case  the  two  planes  must  of  course  coincide,  whilst  in  the 
first  case  this  is  not  necessary. 

§  15.  "We  shall  now  show  that  two  planes  which  are  projective 
according  to  definition  §  12  can  be  brought  into  perspective  position, 
hence  that  the  new  definition  is  reaUy  equivalent  to  the  old.  We  use 
the  following  property: — If  two  coincident  planes  ir  and  *'  are  per- 
spective with  I>  as  centre,  then  any  two  corresponding  rows  are  also 
perspective  with  S  as  centre.  This  therefore  is  true  for  the  rows  j 
and  /  and  for  i  and  i',  of  which  i  and  /  are  the  lines  at  infinity  in  the 
two  planes.  If  now  the  plane  jr'  be  made  to  slide  on  ir  so  that  each 
line  moves  parallel  to  itself,  then  the  point  at  infinity  in  each  line, 
and  hence  the  whole  line  at  infinity  in  ir',  remains  fixed.  So  does 
the  point  at  infinity  on  j,  which  thus  remains  coincident  with  its 
corresponding  point  on  j',  and  therefore  the  rows  j  and  /  remain 
perspective,' that  is  to  say  the  rays  joining  corresponding  points 
in  them  meet  at  some  point  T.  Similarly  the  lines  joining  cor- 
responding points  in  i  and  i'  will  meet  in  some  point  T'.  These 
two  points  T  and  T'  originally  coincided  with  each  other  and 
with  S. 

Conversely,  if  two  projective  planes  are  placed  one  on  the  other, 
then  as  soon  as  the  lines/  and  i  are  parallel  the  two  points  T  and 
T"  can  be  found  by  joining  corresponding  points  in  j  and/,  and  also 
in  i  and  i'.  If  now  a  point  at  infinity  is  called  A  as  a  point  in  ir 
and  B'  as  a  point  in  ir',  then  the  point  A'  will  lie  on  i'  and  B  on  j, 
so  that  the  line  AA'  passes  through  T'  and  BB'  through  T.  These 
two  lines  are  parallel.  If  then  the  plane  ir'  be  moved  parallel  to 
itself  till  T  comes  to  T,  then  these  two  lines  will  coincide  with 
each  other,  and  with  them  will  coincide  the  lines  AB  and  A'B'. 
This  line  and  similarly  every  line  through  T  will  thus  now  coincide 


with  its  corresponding  line.  The  two  planes  are  therefore  accord- 
ing to  the  last  theorem  in  §  14  in  perspective  position. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  plane  ir  may  be  placed  on  ir  in  two 
different  ways,  viz. ,  if  we  have  placed  ir'  on  ir  we  may  take  it  off  and 
turn  it  over  in  space  before  we  oring  it  back  to  ir,  so  that  what  was 
its  upper  becomes  now  its  lower  face.  For  each  of  these  positions 
we  get  one  pair  of  centres  T,  T',  and  only  one  pair,  because  the 
above  process  must  give  every  perspective  position.     It  follows — 

In  two  projective  plains  there  are  in  general  two  and  only  two 
pencils  in  either  such  that  angles  in  one  are  equal  to  their  correspmid* 
ing  angles  in  the  other.  If  one  of  these  pencils  is  made  coincident 
with  its  corresponding  one,  then  the  planes  will  be  perspective. 

This  agrees  with  the  fact  that  two  perspective  planes  in  space  can 
be  made  coincident  bv  turning  one  about  their  axis  in  two  different 
ways  (§  8). 

In  the  reasoning  employed  it  is  essential  that  the  lines  y  and  i'  are 
finite.  If  one  lies  at  infinity,  say/,  then  i  and  j  coincide,  hence 
their  corresponding  lines  i'  and  /  will  coincide ;  tliat  is,  i'  also  lies  at 
infinity',  so  that  the  lines  at  infinity  in  the  two  planes  are  correspond- 
ing lines.  If  the  planes  are  now  made  coincident  and  perspective, 
then  it  may  happen  that  the  lines  at  infinity  correspond  point  for 
point,  or  can  be  made  to  do  so  by  turning  the  one  plane  in  itself. 
In  this  case  the  line  at  infinity  is  the  axis,  whilst  the  centre  may  be 
a  finite  point.  This  gives  similar  figures  (see  §  16).  In  the  other 
case  the  line  at  infinity  corresponds  to  itself  without  being  the  axis  ; 
the  lines  joining  corresponding  points  therefore  all  ceincide  with  it, 
and  the  centre  S  lies  on  it  at  infinity.  The  axis  will  be  some  finite 
line.  This  gives  parallel  projection  (see  §  17).  For  want  of  space 
we  do  not  show  how  to  find  in  these  cases  the  perspective  position, 
but  only  remark  that  in  the  first  case  any  pair  of  corresponding 
points  in  ir  and  ir'  may  be  taken  as  the  points  T  and  T',  wliilst  in 
the  other  case  there  is  a  pencil  of  parallels  in  ir  such  that  any  one 
line  of  these  can  be  made  to  coincide  point  for  point  with  its  corre- 
sponding line  in  ir',  and  thus  serve  as  the  axis  of  projection.  It  will 
therefore  be  possible  to  get  the  planes  in  perspective  position  by 
first  placing  any  point  A'  on  its  forresponding  point  A  and  then 
turning  ir'  about  this  point  till  lines  joining  corresponding  points 
are  parallel. 

§  16.  Similar  Figures. — If  the  axis  is  at  infinity  every  line  is 
parallel  to  its  corres-ponding  line.  Corresponding  angles  are  there- 
fore equal.  The  figures  are  similar,  and  (§  10)  the  ratio  of  simili- 
tude of  any  two  corresponding  -rows  is  constant. 

If  similar  figures  are  in  perspective  position  they  are  said  to  be 
similarly  situated,  and  the  centre  of  projection  is  called  the  centre 
of  similitude.  "To  place  two  similar  figures  in  this  position,  we 
observe  that  their  lines  at  infinity  will  coincide  as  soon  as  both  figures 
are  put  in  the  same  plane,  but  the  rows  on  them  are  not  necessarily 
identical.  They  are  projective,  and  hence  in  general  not  more  than 
two  points  on  one  will  coincide  with  their  corresponding  points  in 
the  other  (G.  §  34).  To  make  them  identical  it  is  either  sufficient 
to  turn  one  figure  in  its  plane  till  three  lines  in  one  are  parallel  to 
their  corresponding  lines  in  the  other,  or  it  is  necessary  before  this 
can  be  done  to  turn  the  one  plane  over  in  space.  It  can  be  shown 
that  in  the  former  case  all  lines  aie,  or  no  line  is,  parallel  to  its  cor- 
responding line,  whilst  in  the  second  case  there  are  two  directions, 
at  right  angles  to  each  other,  which  have  the  property  that  each 
line  in  either  directio"  is  narallel  to  its  corresponding  line.  We 
also  see  that — 

If  in  two  similctr  figures  three  lines,  of  which  no  two  are  parallel, 
are  parallel  respectively  to  their  corresponding  lines,  then  every  line 
has  this  property  and  the  two  figures  are  similarly  situated  ;  or 

Two  similar  figures  are  similarly  situated  as  soon  as  two  corre- 
sponding triangles  are  so  situated. 

If  two  similar  figures  are  perspective  without  being  in  the  same 
plane,  their  planes  must  be  parallel  as  the  axis  is  at  infinity.     IJence 

Any  plane  figure  is  preceded  from  any  centre  to  a  parallel  plane 
into  a  similar  figure. 

If  two  similar  figures  are  similarly  situated,  then  corresponding 

Foints  may  either  be  on  the  same  or  on  different  sides  of  the  centre, 
f,  besides,  the  ratio  of  similitude  is  unity,  then  corresponding  points 
will  be  equidistantfrom  the  centre.  In  the  first  case  therefore  the 
two  figures  will  be  identical.  In  the  second  case  they  will  be  identi- 
cally equal  but  not  coincident.  They  can  he  made  to  coincide  by 
turning  one  in  its  pline  through  two  right  angles  about  the  centre 
of  similitude  S.  The  figures  are  in  involution,  as  is  seen  at  once, 
and  they  are  said  to  be  symmetrical  with  regard  to  the  point  S  as 
centre.  If  the  two  figures  be  considered  as  part  of  one,  then  this  is 
said  to  have  a  centre.  Thus  regular  polygons  of  an  even  number  of 
sides-  and  parallelograms  have  each  a  centre,  which  is  a  centre  of 
symmetry. 

§  17.  Parallel  Projection. — If,  instead  of  the  axis,  the  centre 
be  moved  to  infinity,  all  the  projecting  rays  will  be  parallel,  and  we 
get  what  is  called  Parallel  Projection.  In  this  case  the  line  at  in- 
finity passes  through  the  centre  and  therefore  corresponds  to  itself,  — 
but  not  point  for  point  as  in  the  case  of  similar  figures.  To  any  point 
I  at  infinity  corresponds  therefore  a  i>Oint  I'  also  at  infinity  bnt 
different  from  the  first     Eeuce  to  parallel  lines  meeting  at  I  cor- 


r  11  O  J  E  C  T  1  O  N 


797 


Jespond  parallel  lines  of  another  direction  meeting  pt  I'.  Further, 
in  any  two  corresponding  rows  the  two  points  at  infinity  are  cor- 
responding points  ;  hence  tlie  rows  are  similar.  This  gives  the 
principal  properties  of  parallel  projection  : — 

To  parallel  lijics  correspond  parallel  lines ;  or 

To  a  parnllclotjram  corresponds  a  paralUlo^am. 

The  correspondence  of  parallel  projection  is  completely  del  ermiMd 
as  soon  as  for  any  parallelogram  in  the  one  figure  the  correspo)iding 
]tarallclo'jram  in  the  other  has  been  selected,  as  follows  from  the 
general  case  in  §  14. 

Corresponding  rows  are  similar  (§  10). 

The  ratio  of  similitude  for  these  rows  changes  with  the  direction  : 

Jfa  row  is  parallel  to  the  axis,  its  corresponding  row,  which  is 
also  parallel  to  the  axis,  Kill  be  equal  to  it,  because  any  two  pairs 
AA'  and  BB'  Qf  corresponding  points  will  form  a  parallelogram. 

Another  important  property  is  the  following:  — 

The  areas  of  corresponding  figures  have  a  constant  ratio. 

We  prove  this  first  for  parallelograms.  Let  ABCD  and  EFGH  bo 
any  two  parallelograms 
in  T,  A'B'C'D'  and 
E'F'G'H'  the  corre- 
sponding parallelograms 
in  ir'.  Then  to  tlie 
parallelogram  KLJIN 
which  lies  (fig.  6)  be- 
tween the  lines  AB, 
CD'and  EF,  GH  will 
correspond  a  paraUelo- 
grani    K'L'SI'N'   formed  Fig.  6. 

in     exactly     the     same 

manner.  As  ABCD  and  KLJIN  are  between  the  same  parallels 
their  areas  are  as  the  bases.     Hence 

ABCD     AB        1    ■    ■,    ,     A'B'C'D     A'B' 
KLMN'KL-  """^  ^""'''''^y  K17WF'  =  K17  ' 

But  AB/KL-A'5'/K'L',  as  the  rows  AB  and  A'B' ar*  similar. 
Hence 


ABCD        KLMN 


A'B'C'D'     K'L'il'N 
Hence  also 


,,  and  similarly 


EFGH 
E'F'G'H' 


KLMyr 
'K'L'M'N'' 


ABCD 
A'B'C'D'' 


'E'F'G'H'' 


This  proves  the  theorem  for  parallelograms  and  also  for  their 
halves,  that  is,  for  any  triangles.  As  polygons  can  be  divided  into 
triangles  the  truth  of  the  tlieorem  follows  at  once  for  them,  and  is 
then  by  tlie  well-known  method  of  exhaus'tion  extended  to  areas 
bounded  by  curves  by  inscribing  polygons  in,  and  circumscribing 
polygons  about,  the  curves. 

J  list  as  (G.  §  8)  a  segment  of  a  line  is  given  a  sense,  so  a  sense 
may  be  given  to  an  area.  This  is  done  ja  follows.  If  we  go  round 
theboundary  of  an  area,  the  latter  is  either  to  the  right  or  to  the  left. 
U  we  turn  round  and  go  in  the  opposite  sense,  thcu  the  area  will  be 
to  the  left  if  It  was  first  to  the  right,  and  vice  versa.  If  we  give 
the  boundary  a  definite  sense,  and  go  round  in  this  sense,  then  the 
area  is  said  to  be  either  of  the  one  or  of  the  other  sense  according  as 
tlie  area  is  to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  The  area  is  generally  said  to 
be  positive  if  it  is  to  the  left.  The  sense  of  the  boundary  is  indi- 
cated either  by  an  arrowhead  or  by  the  order  of  the  letters  which 
denote  points  in  the  boundary.  Thus,  if  A,  B,  C  be  the  vertices  of 
a  triangle,  then  ABC  shall  denote  the  area  in  magnitude  and  sense, 
the  sense  being  fixed  by  going  round  the  triangle  in  the  order 
from  A  to  B  to  C.  It  will  then  be  seen  that  ABC  and  ACB  denote 
the  same  area  but  with  opposite  oense,  and  generally  ABC  — BCA- 

CAB-  -ACB BAG—  -CBA;  that  is,  an   interchange  of  two 

letters  changes  the  sense.  Also,  if  A  and  A'  are  two  points  on 
opiiosite  sides  of,  and  equidistant  from,  the  line  BC,  then 
ABC-  -A'BC. 

Taking  account  of  the  sense,  we  may  make  the  following  state- 
ment : — 

If  A,  A'  are  two  corresponding  points,  if  the  line  AA'  cuts  the 
axis  in  B,  and  if  C  is  any  other  point  in  the  axis,  thea  the  triangles 
ABC  and  A'BC  are  corresponding,  and 


or  The  eonstaTit  raCio  of  corresponding  areas  is  c^ual  and  opposite 
to  the  ratio  in  which  the  axis  divides  the  tegmeiU  joining  two  corre- 
sponding points. 

§  IS.  Several  special  cases  of  parallel  projection  are  of  interest. 

OuTHOoRAPiiic  Projection.— If  the  two  planes  »  and  t'  have  a 
definite  position  in  space,  and  if  a  figure  in  »  is  projected  to  i'  by 
rays  pe.-pendicular  to  this  plane,  then  the  projection  is  said  to  bo 
orthographic.  If  in  this  case  the  plane  x  be  turned  till  it  coincides 
with  ir'  80  that  tho  figures  remain  pcrepcctive,  then  the  projecting 
rayi  will  be  perpendicular  to  the  cxis  of  projection,  because  any  one 


of  these  rays  is,  and  remains  duiing  tho  tarning,  nerpendicuhir  to 
the  axis. 

The  constant  ratio  of  the  area  of  the  projection  to  that  of  the 
original  figure  is,  in  this  case,  the  cosine  of  the  angle  between  the 
two  planes  ir  and  ir',  as  will  be  seen  by  piojeclBDg  a  rectangle  which 
has  its  base  in  the  axis. 

Orthographic  projection  is  of  constant  use  in  geometrical  drawing 
and  will  be  treated  of  fully  later  on  in  this  article  (§  28  sq.). 

SliE.^R. — If  the  centre  of  projection  be  taken  at  infinity  on  the 
axis,  then  tho  projecting  rays  aic  parallel  to  the  axis  ;  hence  cor- 
responding points  will  be  equidistant  from  the  axis.  In  this 
case  therefore  areas  of  corresponding  figures  will  be  equal. 

If  A,  A'  and  B,  B'  (fig.  7)  are  two  pairs  of  corresponding  points 
on  the  same  line,  parallel  to 
the  axis,  then,  as  correspond- 
ing segments  parallel  to  the 
axis  arc  equal,  it  follows  that 
AB^A'B',  hence  also  A.\'  = 
BB4  If  these  points  bo 
joined  to  any  point  0  on  the 
axis,  then  AO  and  A'O  will 
be  corresponding  lines  ;  they 
will  therefore  be  cut  by  any 
line  parallel  to  the  axis  in  corresponding  points.  In  the  figure 
therefore  C,  C  and  also  D,  D'  will  be  pairs  of  corresponding  points 
and  CC'-DD'.  As  the  ratio  CC'/AA'  equals  the  ratio  of  the  dis- 
tances of  C  and  A  from  the  axis,  therefore— 

Txoo  corresponding  figures  may  be  got  one  out  of  the  other  by 
moving  all  points  in  the  one  parallel  to  a  fixed  line,  the  axis, 
through  distances  which  are  proportional  to  their  own  distances  from 
the  axis.     Points  in  a  line  remain  hereby  in  a  line. 

Such  a  transformation  of  a  plane  figure  is  produced  by  a  shearing 
stress  in  any  section  of  a  homogeneous  elastic  solid.  For  this 
reason  Sir  William  Thomson  has  given  it  the  name  of  shear. 

A  shear  of  a  plane  figure  is  determined  if  we  are  given  the  axi< 
and  the  distance  through  which  one  point  has  been  moved  ;  for  in 
this  case  the  axis,  the  centre,  and  a  pair  of  corresponding  points 
are  given. 

§  19.  Symmethy  and  Skew-Symmetry.— If  the  centre  is  not 
on  the  axis,  and  if  corresponding  points  are  at  equal  distances 
from  it,  they  must  be  on  opposite  sides  of  it.  The  figures  will  be 
in  involution  (§  11).  In  this  case  the  direction  of  tho  projecting 
rays  is  said  to  be  conjugate  to  the  axis. 

The  conjugate  direction  may  be  perpendicular  to  the  axis.  If 
the  line  joining  two  corresponding  points  A,  A'  cuts  the  axis  in  B, 
then  AB  =  BA'.  Therefore,  if  the  plane  be  folded  over  along  the 
axis,  A  will  fall  on  A'.  Hence  by  this  folding  over  eve/y  point 
will  coincide  with  its  corresponding  point.  The  figures  therefore 
are  identically  equal  or  congruent,  and  in  their  original  position 
they  are  symmetrical  with  regard  to  the  axis,  which  itself  is  called 
an  axis  of  symmetry.  If  the  two  figures  are  considered  as  one  this 
one  is  said  to  bo  symmetrical  with  regard  to  an  axis,  and  is  said  to 
have  an  axis  of  symmetry  or  simply  an  axis.  Every  diameter  of  a 
circle  is  thus  an  axis;  also  the  median  lino  of  an  isosceles  triangle 
and  the  diagonals  of  a  rhombus  are  axes  of  tho  figures  to  which 
they  belong. 

Ill  the  more  general  case  where  the  projecting  rays  are  not  per- 
pendicular to  the  axis  we  have  a  kind  of  twisted  symmetry  which 
may  be  called  skewsy *.mctry.  It  can  bo  got  from  syinmetr>'  by 
giving  the  whole  figure  a  shear.  It  vill  also  be  easily  seen  that 
we  get  skew-symmetry  if  we  first  form  a  shear  to  a  given  figure 
and  then  separate  it  from  its  shear  by  folding  it  over  along  the  axis 
of  tho  shear,  which  thereby  becomes  an  axis  of  skew-symmetry. 

Skew-symmetrical  and  therefore  also  sjnnnetrical  tigurca  have 
the  following  properties  : — 

Corresponding  areas  are  eqval,  but  of  opposite  sense. 
Any  two  correspOMiing  lines  are  hannonic  conjugates  with  regard 
to  the  axis  and  a  line  in  the  cor\jugatc  direction. 

If  the  two  figures  be  again  considered  as  one  whole,  this  is  said 
to  be  skew-symmetricnl  and  to  have  an  axis  of  skew-syninietry. 
Thus  the  median  line  of  any  trianple  is  on  axis  of  skew-symmetry, 
the  side  on  which  it  stands  having  the  conjugate  dircction,"*'tno 
other  sides  being  conjugate  lines.  From.thisit  follows,  for  instanrc, 
that  tho  three  median  Tines  of  a  triangleTnect  in  a  point.  For  two 
median  lines  will  be  corresponding  lines  with  regard  to  the  third 
03  axi.s,  and  mi.st  therefore  meet  on  the  axi.s. 

An  axis  of  skew-symmetry  is  gciieriilly  called  a  diameter.  Thus 
every  diameter  of  a  conic  is  nn  axi.s  of  skew-symmetry,  tho  conjugate 
direction  being  tho  direction  of  the  chords  wliich  it  bisects. 

§  20.  Wo  state  a  few  properties  of  thcao  figures  useful  in  mechanics, 
but  we  omit  tho  easy  proofs  : — 

If  a  plane  area  has  an  axis  of  skew-syhimelry,  then  the  mass-centrt 
(centre  of  mean  distances  or  centre  of  inertia)  lies  on  it. 

If  a  figure  undergoes  a  shear,  the  mass-centre  of  its  area  remain* 
the  incuis-cenire  ;  and  generally — 

7)1  parallel  frrojcction  the  tnass-cenlrci  of  eorrespo7iding  areas  ior 
of  groups  of  points,  bui  not  of  curves)  are  corresponding  poiidt. 


798 


PHOJECTION 


The  moment  of  inertia  of  a  plane  figu/n  docs  not  cTuinge  if  the 
figure  undergoes  a  shear  in  the  direction  of  the  axis  with  ngard  to 
which  the  moment  has  been  taken. 

If  a  figure  has  an  axis  of  skew-symmetry,  then  this  axis  and  the 
conjugate  direction  are  conjugate  diameters  of  the  momental  ellipse 
for  every  point  in  the  axis. 

If  a  figure  has  an  axis  of  symmetry,  then  this  is  an  axis  of  the 
momental  ellipse  for  every  paint  in  it. 

The  truth  of  the  last  propositions  follows  at  once  from  the  fact 
that  the  product  of  inertia  for  the  lines  in  question  vanishes. 

It  is  of  interest  to  notice  how  a  great  many  propositions  of  Euclid 
are  only  special  cases  of  projection.  The  theorems  Eucl.  I.  35-41 
about  parallelograms  or  triangles  on  equal  bases  and  between  the 
same  parallels  are  examples  of  shear,  wnilst  I.  43  gives  a  case  of 
skew-symmetry,  hence  of  involution.  Figures  which  are  identi- 
cally equal  are  of  course  projective)  and  they  are  perspective  when 
6 laced  so  that  they  have  an  axis  or  a  centre  of  symmetry  (comp. 
lenrici,  ElementanJ  Oeometry,  Congruent  Figures).  In  this  case 
again  the  relation  is  that  of  involution.  The  importance  of  treat- 
ing similar  figures  when  in  perspective  position  has  long  been 
recognized  ;  we  need  only  mention  the  well-known  proposition 
about  the  centres  of  similitude  of  circles. 

Applications  to  Conics. 

§  21.  Theorem. — Any  conic  can  be  projected  into  any  other  conic 
This  may  be  done  in  such  a  manner  that  three  points  on  one  conic 
and  tlie  tangents  at  two  of  them  are  projected  to  three  arbitrarily 
selected  points  and  the  tangents  at  two  of  them  on  the  other. 

Proof. — If  u  and  u'  are  any  two  co:)ics,  then  we  have  to  prove  that 
we  can  project  u  in  such  a  manner  that  five  points  on  it  will  be 
projected  to  points  on  «'.  As  the  projection  is  determined  as 
soon  as  the  projections  of  any  four  points  or  four  lines  are 
selected,  we  cannot  project  any  five  points  of  n  to  any  fivo 
arbitrarily  selected  points  on  u'.  But  it  A,  B,  C  be  any  three 
points  on  u,  and  if  the  tangents  at  B  and  C  meet  at  D,  if  further 
A',  B',  C  are  any  three  points  on  u',  and  if  the  tangents  at  B  'and  C" 
meet  at  D',  then  the  plane  of  u  may  be  projected  to  the  plane  of  u' 
ill  such  a  manner  that  the  points  A,  B,  C,  D  are  projected  to 
to  A',  B',  C,  D'.  This  determines  the  correspondence  (§  14).  The 
conic  u  will  be  projected  into  a  Conic,  the  points  A,  B,  C  and  the 
tangents  BD  and  CD  to  the  points  A',  B',  C  and  the  lines  B'D' 
and  CD',  which  are  tangents  to  W'at  B'  and  C.  The  projection  of 
«  must  therefore  (G.  §  52)  coincide  with  «',  because  it  is  a  conic 
which  has  threS  noints  and  the  tangents  at  two  of  them  in  common 
with  u'. 

Similarly  we  ml^lit  have  taken  three  tangents  and  the  points  of 
contact  of  ttco  of  them  as  corresponding  to  similar  elements  on  the 
other. 

If  the  one  conic  be  a  circle  which  cuts  the  line  /,  the  projection 
will  cut  the  line  a£  infinity  in  two  points ;  hence  it  will  be  an  hyper- 
bola. Similarly,  if  the  circle  touches  j,  the  projection  will  be  a 
parabola;  and,  if  the  circle  has  no  point  in  common  with  j,  the 
projection  will  be  an  ellipse.  These  curves  appear  thus  as  sections 
of  a  circular  cone,  for  in  case  that  the  two  planes  of  projection  are 
separated  the  rays  projecting  the  circle  form  such  a  cone. 

Any  conic  may  be  projected,  into  itself. 

If  we  take  any  point  S  in  the  plane  of  a  conic  aa  centre,  the 
polar  of  this  point  as  axis  of  projection,  and  any  two  points  in  which 
a  line  through  S  cuts  the  conic  as  corresponding  points,  then  these 
will  be  harmonic  conjugates  with  regard  to  the  centre  and  the  axis. 
We  therefore  have  involution  (§  11),  and  every  point  is  projected 
into  its  harmonic  conjugate  with  regard  to  the  centre  and  the  axis, — 
hence  every  point  A  on  the  conic  into  that  point  A'  on  the  conic 
in  which  the  line  SA'  cuts  the  conic  again,  as  follows  from  the 
harmonic  properties  of  pole  and  polar  (G.  §  GZsq.). 

Txoo  conics  which  cut  the  line  at  infinity  in  the  same  two  points  are 
similar  figures  and  similarly  situated, — the  centre  of  similitude  being 
ill  general  some  finite  point. 

To  prove  this,  we  take  the  line  at  infinity  and  the  asymptotes  of 
pne-  as  corresponding  to  the  line  at  infinity  and  the  asymptotes  of 
the  other,  and  besides  a  tangent  to  the  first  as  corresponding  to  a 
parallel  tangent  to  the  other.  The  line  at  infinity  will  then 
correspond  to  itself  point  for  point;  hence  the  figures  wUl  bo 
similar  and  similarly  situated. 

§  22.  Akeas  of  Parabolic  Segments. — One  parabola  may 
always  be  considered  as  a  parallel  projection  of  another  in  such  a 
manner  that  any  two  points  A,  B  on  the  one  correspond  to  any 
two  points  A',  B'  on  the  other ;  that  is,  the  points  A,  B  and  the 
point  at  infinity  on  the  one  may  be  made  to  correspond  respectively 
to  the  points  A',  B'  and  the  point  at  infinity  on  the  other,  whilst 
the  tangents  at  A  and  at  infinity  of  the  one  correspond  to  the 
tangent  at  B'  and  at  infinity  of  the  other.  This  completely  deter- 
mines the  correspondence,  and  it  is  parallel  projection  because  the 
Kne  at  infinity  corresponds  to  the  line  at  infinity.  Let  the  tangents 
at  A  and  B  meet  at  C,  and  those  at  A',  B'  at  C;  then  C,  C  will 
eorrespoml,  and  so  will  the  triangles  ABC  and  A'B'C  as  well  as  the 

larabolic  segments  cut  off  by  the  chords  AB  and  A'B'.     If  (AB) 


^ig.  8. 


denotes  the  area  of  the  segment  cut  off  by  the  chord  AB  we  bav» 
therefore 

(AB)/ABC- (A'B')/ A'B'C;  or 

Tlie  area  of  a  segment  of  a  parabola  stands  in  a  constant  ratio  to  Ou 
area  of  the  triangle  formed  by  the  chord  of 
the  segment  and  the  tangents  at  the  end  points 
of  the  chord. 

If  then  (fig.  8)  we  join  the  point  C  to  the . 
mid-point  M  of  AB,  then  this  line  I  will  be" 
bisected  at  D  by  the  parabola  (G.  §  74),  and 
the  tangent  at  D  will  be  parallel  to   AB. 
Let  this  tangent  cut  AC  in  E  and  CB  in  F, 
then  by  the  lai>t  theorem 

(AB)_(Ar)    (BD)_ 
ABC    ADE^BFD"     ' 
where  m  is  some  number  to  be  detennined.     The  figure  gives 
(AB)  =  ABD-KAD)-KBD). 
Combining  both  equations,  we  have 

ABD  =  m  (ABC  -  ADE  -  BFD). 
But  we  hare  also  ABD  =  J  ABC,  and  ADE  =  BFD  =  I  ABC ; 
i  ABC=m  (1  -  i  -  J)  ABC,  or  m=|. 

The  area  of  a  parabolic  segment  equals  two  thirds  of  the  area  cj 
the  triangle  formed  by  the  chord  and  the  tangents  at  tlie  end  points  y 
the  chord. 

§  23.  Elltptto  Areas. — To  consider  one  ellipse  a  parallel  projeo- 
tion  of  another  we  may  establish  the  correspondence  as  follow^ 
If  AC,  BD  are  any  pair  of  conjugate  diameters  of  the  one  and 
A'C,  B'D'  any  pair  of  conjugate  diameters  of  the  other,  then  these 
may  be  made  to  correspond  to  each  other,  and  the  correspondence 
will  be  completely  deteiuiined  if  the  parallelogram  formed  by  the 
tangents  at  A,  B,  C,  D  is  made  to  correspond  to  that  formed  by  the 
tangents  at  A',  B',  C,  D'  (§§  17  and  21).  As  the  projection  of  the 
first' conic  has  the  four  points  A',  B',  C,  D'  and  the  tangents  at 
these  points.in  common  with  the  second,  the  two  ellipses  are  prp- 
jected  one  into  the  other.  Their  areas  will  correspond,  and  so  do 
those  of  the  parallelograms  ABCD  and  A'B'CD'.     Hence 

The  area  of  an  ellipse  has  a  constant  ratio  to  the  area  of  any 
inscribed  parallelogram  whose  diagonals  are  conjugate  diameter's, 
and  also  to  every  circumscribed  parallelogram  whose  sides  are 
parallel  to  conjugate  diameters. 

It  follows  at  once  that 

All  parallelograms  inscribed  in  an  ellipse  whose  diagonals  am 
conjugate  diameters  are  equal  in  area  ;  and 

All  parallelograms  circuinscribed  cibout  an  ellipee  whose  sides  are 
parallel  to  conjugate  diameters  are  equal  in  area. 

If  a,  6  are  the  length  of  the  semi-axes  of  the  ellinse,  then  the 
area  of  the  circumscribed  parallelogram  will  be  icd>  and  of  the 
inscribed  one  2ad. 

For  the  circle  of  radius  r  tlie  inscribed  parallelogram  becomes  the 
square  of  area  2r^  and  the  circle  has  the  area  r'x  ;  the  constant  ratio 
of  an  ellipse  to  the  inscribed  parallelogram  has  therefore  also  the 
value  Jtt.     Hence 

The  area  of  an  ellipse  equals  abv. 

§  24.  Projective  Properties. — The  properties  of  the  projection 
of  a  figure  depend  partly  on  the  relative  position  of  the  planes  at 
the  figure  and  the  centre  of  projection,  but  principally  on  the  pro- 
perties of  the  given  figure.  Points  in  a  line  are  projected  into 
points  in  a  line,  harmonic  points  into  harmonic  points,  a  conic 
into  a  conic  ;  but  parallel  lines  are  not  projected  into  parallel  lines 
nor  right  angles  into  right  angles,  neither  are  the  projections  of 
equal  segments  or  angles  again  equal  There  are  then  some  pro- 
perties which  remain  unaltered  by  projection,  whilst  others  change. 
The  former  are  called  projective  or  descriptive,  the  latter  metrical 
properties  of  figures,  because  the  latter  all  depend  on  measurement. 

To  a  triangle  and  its  median  lines  correspond  a  triangle  and  three 
lines  which  meet  in  a  point,  but  which  as  a  rule  are  not  median 
lines. 

In  this  case,  if  we  talte  the  triangle  together  with  the  line  at 
infinity,  we  get  as  the  projection  a  triangle  ABC,  and  some  other 
line  j  which  cuts  the  sides  a,  b,  e  of  the  triangle  in  the  points 
■All  B],  C,.  If  we  now  take  on  BC  the  harmonic  conjugate  A,  to 
A]  and  similarly  on  CA  and  AB  the  harmonic  conjugates  to  Bj  and 
C,  respectively,  then  the  lines  AAj,  BB.,  CC,  will  be  the  projections 
of  the  median  lines  in  the  given  figure.  Hence  these  lines  mnst 
meet  in  a  point. 

As  the  triangle  and  the  fourth  lino  we  may  take  any  four  given- 
lines,  because  any  four  lines  may  be  projected  into  any  four  given 
lines  (§  14).     This  gives  a  theorem : — 

If  each  vertex  of  a  triangle  be  joined  to  that  point  in  the  opposite 
side  iohich  is,  loith  regard  to  the  vertices,  the  harmonic  conjugate  of 
the  point  in  which  the  side  is  cut  by  a  given  line,  then  the  three  lima, 
thus  obtained  meet  in  a  point. 

We  get  thus  out  of  the  special  theorem  about  the  median  line* 


PROJECTION 


799 


r 


of  1  trian-rle  a  more  general  one.     But  before  th.s  could  bo  done 
^^  Lad  toadd  the  linl  at  infuuty  to  the  liaes  in  the  g>vea  fignre 

In  a  similar  manner  a  great  many  theorem,  '«>«'•??,*»  "'^^'"^^^ 
propertieacan  be  generalized  by  tak.ng  the  Ime  f '"fi'^'y  "^P"^" 
at  infinity  a3  forming  part  of  the  onginal  figure.  Con%ei3ely 
Special  eases  relating  to  measuremeut  are  obtained  by  proje. Ung 
E  line  in  a  figureSof  known  properties  to  infinity  Thia  .s  true 
for  all  properties  relating  to  parallel  lines  or  to  bisection  of 
w^nents,  bSt  not  imme.iiately  for  angles.  It  .8.  however,  poss  bio 
to  eataWish  for  every  metrical  relation  the  correspondmg  projective 
mopcrtv  To  do  this  it  is  necessary  to  consider  inmainary  elements 
¥bcse  have  originally  been  introauced  .into  geometry  by  aid  of 
coordinate  geometry,  where  imaginary  quantities  constantly  occur 
as  roots  of  equations.  .  .     .„„,,„  ,.. 

Their  introduction  into  pure  geometry  is  due  pnnc  pally  to 
Poncelet    who   by  the   publication   of  his  great  ^ork  Irmte  de3 
pTo^tL  ProJcctL,  djFmrcs  became  the  founder  of  nrojectn-e 
ceoSotry   in   its  widest   sense.      Mongo   had   considered   paralle 
fro™ ct^n  and  had  already  distinguished  between  V<^^^r.anent^ni 
Lc  dental   properties   of   figures,    the    latter    being  those   which 
Zended  meiiy  on  the  accTdeotal  position  of  ono  part   o  anotlc 
Thus   in   projecting  two  circles  wfcch   lie   m   d.tferent  plants  it 
d  pends  o^n  Ihe   accidental  ■  position  of  the   centre  of  project  on 
whether  the  projections  be  two  comes  which  do  or  do  not  meet 
Poncelet  introduced  the  nrincinle  of  continuity  in  order  to  make 
theorem  ^neral  and  inaepenient  of  those   accidental  positions 
whichTpend  analytically  on  the  fact  that  the  equations  .used  ^avo 
rea   or  imaginary  roots.     But  the  correctness  of^  th.s  principle  le- 
mained  without  a  proof.     Von  Staudt  has.  however,  shown  fiow  it 
SposlbTe  to  intro^duce  imaginary  elements  ^Y  pu-ely  geometriea^ 
Tcasoning,  and  we  shall  now  try  to  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  his 

^^TiS  IMAOIKAHT  Elements. -If  aline  cuts  a  curve  and  if  the 
line  be  movtd,  turned  for  instance  about  a  point  in  it.  'J  ™«y  h^PP^^ 
ihat  two  of  the  points  of  intersection  approach  each  othei  till  tl  y 
coincide  The  line  then  becomes  a  tangent.  If  the  lino  is  sliu 
further  moved  in  the  same  manner  it  separates  from  the  curve  ami 
two  poi^t^of  intersection  are  lost.  Thus  n  considering  the  rela- 
iron- of  a  line  to  a  conic  we  have  to  distinguish  three  cases-the  line 
cute  the  conic  in  two  points,  touches  it,  or  has  no  point  in  common 
w"th  ir  This  is  quL  analogous  to  the  fact  t'hat  a  quadratic 
rauation  with  one  Lknown  quantity  has  either  two,  one,  or  no 
Xs  Ba  in  algebra  it  has  long  been  found  convenient  to  express 
SiffereBtly  by  saying  a  quadratic  equation  has  always  two  roots 
but  thesTmay  be  either  both  real  ani  different,  or  equal,  or  they 
„ay  be  UnTginary.  In  geometry  a  similar  mode  of  expressing  the 
fart  above  stated  is  not  less  convenient  . 

We  say  therefore  a  lino  has  always  two  points  in  c"™"-"" ';\'^,; 
conic,  but  these  are  either  distinct  or  coincident,  »'  '"T';^/''^; 
The  word  imannary  is  generally  used  instead  of  invisible  ;  but,  as 
?he  p"?nts  hTve  not?iin|to  do  with  imagination  we  prefer  the  word 
"  invisible  "  recommended  originally  by  CaHord.  i„.„„ 

Tnv  siWe  points  occur  in  pairs  of  conjugate  r,o.nts,  for  ^}^^}°^^ 
Always  two  visible  points  of  intersection  witii  a  curve  "multane- 
ou"  y  This  is  ana\ogous  to  the  fact  that  an  algebraica  equation 
with  real  coefficients  lia.  imaginary  roots  in  pairs.  Only  one  real 
iT^TcTL  dm.<^  through  an  invisible  point,  for  two  real  lines  meet 
in  a  real  or  visible  point.     The  real  line  through  an  invisible  point 

""Sa?Vrti.tne"CisibIe  lines-tangents,  forinstance  from  a 
poinrwithin  a  conic-which  occur  in  pairs  of  conjugates,  two  con- 
iniratpa  havine  a  real  point  in  common.  , 

^^he  introduction  of  invisible  points  would  be  nothing  b?*  a  pUy 
upon  words  unless  there  is  a  real  geometrical  property  indicated 
wliich  can  bo  used  in  geometrical  constructions-that  it  has  a 
definite  meaning,  for  instance,  to  say  that  two  eonics  cut  a  line  in 
the  same  two  invisible  points,  or  that  we  can  draw  one  conic 
th  outh  thrle  r  al  points  and  tho  two  invisible  ones  which  another 
conic  has  in  common  with  a  line  that  does  not  ae  ually  c"'  '^  Wo 
have  in  fact  to  give  a  geometrical  definition  of  'n^^'W"  P°'°''- 
This  is  done  by  aid  of  tho  theory  of  involution  (0.  S/6  »?.). 

An  involution  of  points  on  a  lino  has  (according  to  G.  §  77  U)) 
either  ?wo  or  one  o?  no  foci.  Instead  of  this  wo  "ow  say  it  Vias 
always  two  foci  which  may  bo  distinct,  co'i^^ent,  or  invuiblo 
¥heso  fodare  deton.uued  b/tho  involution,  but  t^»J;"'^°/»™,t 
the  involution.  If  tho  foci  are  real  this  follows  from  the  fact  that 
coniugate  points  are  harmonic  conjugates  with  roga  d  *»  the  toci. 
ffitft  is  also  the  case  for  invisible  S,=i  will  ?"«>"''/ "I^'X  J/ 
we  take  this  at  present  for  granted  wo  may  replace  a  ?»"■  "^  "■»'- 
rAneident,  or  invisible  points  by  tho  involution  of  which  they  are 

'''Now'any  two  pairs  of  conjugate  poipU  determine  an  inTolntion 

^\!".'aiv  poi'nt-pair,  whelks  real  or  inmMU   if  eompMy 

v,hich.  haslhcgiDcn  point-pair  a»  foci  and  nay  therf/m  i«  repU^'^. 
\l  them. 


Two  pairs  of  invisible  poinU  are  thus  said  to  bo  identical  if.  and 
only  if  they  are  the  foci  of  the  same  involution. 

We  know  (G.  §  82)  that  a  conic  det.rmiiies  on  every  line  an  in 
volution  in  which  conjugate  points  are  conjugate  poles  with  regara 
to  the  conic-that  is,  that  either  lies  on  the  polar  of  tl>e  other. 
This  holds  whether  the  line  cuts  the  conic  or  not.  Furthermore, 
in  the  former  case  the  points  common  to  the  Uno  and  the  conic  are 
the  foci  of  the  involution.  Hence  we  now  say  that  this  is  always 
the  case  and  that  tho  intiisifc^e  poin  ts  common  to  a  line  and  a  conic 
are  the  invisible  foci  of  the  involution  in  question.  U  then  we 
sUte  the  problem  of  drawing  a  conic  which  passes  throngh  two 
points  given  as  the  intersection  of  a  conic  and  a  line  as  that  ot 
Srawing  a  conic  which  determines  a  given  involution  on  the  line 
we  havl  it  in  a  form  in  which  it  is  independent  of  t be  accidental 
circumstance  of  the  intersections  being  real  or  invisible,     bo  is  the 

solution  of  the  problem,  as  we  shall  now  show.  

8  26.  We  have  seen  (§  21)  that  a  conic  may  always  be  projected 

into  itself  by  taking  any  point  S  as  centre  and  its  polar  s  as  axis  of 

.rejection,  corresponding  points  being  those  m  winch  a  line  through 

cuts  the  conic.     If  tlen  (fig.  9)  A,  A'  and  B.  B   are  pairs  of 

IT :_  t ^ 


corresponding  points  so 
that  tne  lines  AA'  end 
BB'  pass  through  S, 
then  the  lines  AB  and 
A'B',  as  corresponding 
lines,  will  meet  at  a 
point  Eon  the  axis,  and 
the  lines  AB'  and  A'B 
will  meet  at  another 
point  R'  on  the  axis. 
These  points  R,  R'  are 
conjugate  points  in  tho 
involution    which   the 


Q' 


Fig.  0. 
i":?ctte"m:L\fonX  line  ,.  becanse  the  triangle  KSR'  is  a  polar 
trianale  (G.  §  62),  bo  that  R'  lies  on  the  polar  ol  K.       .  . 

s?St*£"5/sS"^v\i"'vrirairrs 

^"pROBLEM.-rJ  draw  some  amic  whieh  shall  determine  on  a  lin»  » 

"  SuttT-tChave  here  to  reconstruct  the  fig.  9.  having  giv^n 
on  the  line  .an  i^ivolution.  Let  Q,  Q'  and  R  R' (fig.  9)  be  ^o 
pai™  of  conjugate  points  in  this  involution  We  take  any  point  B 
Tn  iinin  it  to  R  and  R',  and  another  point  C  to  Q  and  Q .     Let  BR 

spoudin"  rays  willlie  on  a  conic  which  passes  through  A,  A .  B.  aoa 
C      Tim  conic  determines  on  s  the  given  involution. 
Of  these  four  points  not  only  B  and  C  but  also  he  pojnt  A  may 

^"•u  ^;s's  twj:  thf  V I  (comp.  fi^.  4  j«  ™yr  p 

change  A  and  Band  find  ^'^^^S'"" /,  "t,,  J'^ne  time  five  po?nU 
TTl  'a'"b'  o^uVe  c"nic"have  been.lou„d,  so  that.the  coni.  U 
fomplet^lt  known  which  determines  on  the  Une  .  the  given  uivolu- 

^'°Ty,rf^^T-Thro,^h  three  points  ^  canahoay,  ,'i'««'. '"•'.'T^ 

tJ:^tZe     Ivl'nLl  'points  an4  through  tu,o  .nv.ibl.  po.U. 
nnlbeV  of  interesting  consenuencc.  of  which  we  state  a  lew. 

h2^-i'J^r::d'lle7iiCaX^^ 

tJy'ZZliJ^i^fi'^ity  vnlHcame  tv^ points-real.  co,ncid^ 
or  invisible. 

'^!:Xr)llasaresirnilar:andl^-r,«ra<^rly^^tcdo:, 

"^hTinvoUrrwTii^.'^ctle  determine,  at  iU  centre  is  circular 
mRTQ^-  that  U  every  line  is  perp.r  iicul.r  to  its  conjugate  lin.,. 


800 


FROJJi;CTiO^ 


same  involution  on  the  line  at  infinity.  The  latter  is  therefore 
culled  lh(  circular  involution  on  the  line  at  iiifinity;  and  the 
involution  which  a  circle  determines  at  its  centre  is  called  the 
circular  inyolulion  at  that  point.  All  circles  determine  thus  on 
the  line  at  infinity  the  same  involution  ;  in  other  words,  they  have 
the  same  two  invisible  points  in  common  with  the  line  at  infinity. 
Theorem. — All  circles  may  he  considered  as  passing  through  'the 
same  two'points  at  infinity. 

These  points  are  called  the  circular  points  at  infinity,  and  by 
Prof.  Cayley  the  absolute  in  the  plane.  They  are  the  foci  of  the 
circular  involution  in  the  line  at  infinity. 

Conversely— £i-er!/  conic  ichich  passes  through  the  circular  points 
is  a  circle ;  because  the  involution  at  its  centre  is  ciicular,  hence 
conjugate  diameters  are  at  right  angles,  and  this  property  only 
circles  possess. 

We  now  see  why  w<)  can  draw  always  one  and  only  one  circle 
through  any  three  points :  these  three  points  together  with  the 
circular  points  at  inliuity  are  five  points  through  which  one  conic 
ouly  can  be  drawn. 

yiny  two  circles  are  similar  and  similarly  silnated  because  they 
have  the  same  points  at  infinity  (§  21). 

Any  two  concentric  circles  may  be  considered  as  having  double 
contact  at  infinity,  because  the  lines  joining  the  common  centre  to 
the  circular  points  at  infinity  are  tangents  to  both  circles  at  the 
circular  points,  as  the  line  at  infinity  is  the  polar  of  the  centre. 

A  ny  two  lines  at  right  angles  to  one  another  are  harmonic  conjugates 
with  regard  tothe  rays  joining  their  intersection  to  the  circular  points, 
because  these  rays  are  the  focal  rays  of  the  circular  involution  at 
the  intersection  of  the  given  lines. 

To  biiect  an  angle  with  the  vertex  A  means  (G.  §  23)  to  find  two 
rays  through  A  which  are  harmqnic  coujugates  with  regard  to  the 
limits  of  the  angle  and  perpendicular  to  each  other.  These  rays 
are  therefore  harmonic  with  regard  to  the  limits  of  the  given  angle 
and  with  regard  to  the  rays  through  the  circular  points.  Thus 
perpendicularity  and  bisection  of  an  angle  have  been  stated  in  a 
projective  form. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  th^t  the  circular  points  do  not  exist  at 
all ;  but  to  introduce  them  gives  us  a  short  way  of  making  a  state- 
ment which  would  otherwise  be  long  and  cumbrous. 

We  can  now  generalize  any  theorem  relating  to  metrical  pro- 
perties. For  instance,  the  simple  fact  that  the  chord  of  a  circle  is 
touched  by  a  concentric  circle  at  its  mid  poijU  proves  the  theorem: 
If  two  conies  have  double  contact,  then  the  points  where  any 
tangent  to  one  'of  them  cuts  the  other  are  harmonic  with  regard  to 
the  point  of  contact  and  the  point  where  the  tangent  cuts  the  chord 
of  contact. 

DESCKIPTIVE  GEOMETRY. 

For  many,  especially  technical,  purposes  it  is  of  the 
utmost  importance  to  represent  solids  and  other  figures  in 
three  dimensions  by  a  drawing  in  one  plane. 

A  variety  of  methods  have  been  introduced  for  this 
purpose.  The  most  important  is  that  which  towards  the 
end  of  the  last  century  was  invented  by  Monge  under  the 
name  of  "descriptive  geometry."  We  give  the  elements 
of  his  method.  It  is  based  on  parallel  projections  to  a 
plane  by  rays  perpendicular  to  the  plane.  Such  a  pro- 
jection is  called  orthographic  {§  18).  If  the  plane  is 
horizontal  the  projection  is  called  the  plan  of  the  figure, 
and  if  the  plane  is  vertical 'the  elevation.  InMonge's 
method  a  figure  is  represented  by  its  plan  and  elevation. 
It  is  therefore  often  called  drawing  in  plan  and  elevation, 
and  sometimes  simply  orthographic  projection. 

§  2S.  We  suppose  then  that  we  have  two  planes,  one  horizontal, 
the  other  vertical,  and-these  we  call  the  jdanes  of  plan  and  of  eleva- 
tion respectively,  or  the  horizontal  and  the  vertical  plane,  and 
denote  them  by  the  letters  t,  and  ir^  Their  line  of  intersection  is 
called  the  axis,  and  shall  -be  denoted  by  the  letter  a. 

If  the  surface  of  the  drawing  paper  is  taken  as  the  plane  of  tie 
plan,  then  the  vertical  plane  will  be  the  plane  perpendicular  to  it 
through  the  axis  x.  To  bring  this  also  into  the  plane  of  the 
drawing  paper  we  turn  it  about  the  axis  till  it  coincides  with  the 
horizontal  plane.  This  process  of  turning  one  plane  down  till  'it 
coincides  with  another  is  called  rabatling  one  to  the  other.  Of 
course  there  is  no  necessity  to  have  one  of  the  two  planes  hori- 
zontal, but  even  when  this  is  not  the  case  it  is  convenient  to  retain 
the  above  names. 

The  whole  arrangement  will  be  better  nnderstood  by  a  glance  at 
fig.  10.  A  point  A  in  space  is  there  projected  by  the  perpendicnlar 
AAj  and  AA,  to  the  nlanes  x,  and  jr„  so  that  A,  and  Aj  are  the 
aonzontal  and  vertical  projecrions  of  A. 

If  we  remember  that  a  line  is  perpendicular  to  a  plane  that 


is  perpendicular  to  every  line  in  the  plane  if  only  it  is  perpen- 
ilicular  to  any  two  intei-secting  lines  in  the  plane,'  we  see  that  the 
axis  which  IS  perpendicular  both  to  AA,  and  to  AA,  is  also  ner- 
pun.  icular  to  A.Aj  and  to  A,k„  because  these  four  lines  are  all 
in  the  same  plane.     Hence,  if  the  plane  r,  be  turned  about  the 


c. 

\ 

|8, 

a. 

%^ 

B, 

o„   6. 

A 

<r 

0, 

D. 

12,  which  represents  a 
P 


Fig.  10.  ^  Fig  11. 

axis  till  it  coincides  with  the  plane  t„  then  AjA,  will  be  the  con- 
tmuatiouof  A,A(,.  This  position  of  the  planes  is  represented  in 
fig.  11,  in  which  the  line  AjAj  is  perpendicular  to  the  axis  z. 

Conversely  any  two  points  Aj,  Aj  in  a  line  perpendicular  to  the 
axis  will  be  the  projections  of  some  point  in  space  when  the  plane 
xj  IS  turned  about  the  axis  till  it  is  perpendicular  to  the  plane  t,, 
because  in  this  position  the  two  perpendiculars  to  the  planes  t, 
and  »3  through  the  points  Aj  and  A^  will  be  in  a  nlaue  and  there- 
fore meet  at  some  point  A. 

Representation  of  Points.— We  have  thus  thefollowingmethod 
of  represeijting  in  a  single  piano  the  position  of  points  in  space  :— 
we  take  in  the  plane  a  line  x  as  the  axis,  and  then  any  pair  of  points 
Aj,  Aj  in  the  plane  on  a  line  perpaidicular  to  the  axis  represent  a 
point  A  in  space.  If  the  line  AjAj  cuts  the  axis  at  A^  and  if  at  A, 
a  perpendicular  be  erected  to  the  plane,  then  the  point  A  will  be  in 
it  at  a  height  AiA  =  AoA2  above  the  plane.  This  gives  the  positien 
of  the  point  A  relative  to  the  plane  «•].  In  the  same  way,  if  in  a 
perpendicular  to  xj  through  Aj  a  point  A  be  taken  such  that 
A^  =  AoAj,  then  this  will  give  the  point  A  relative  to  the  plane  r^. 

§29.  The  two  planes  x,,  iTj  in  their  original  position  divide- space 
into  four  parts.  These  are  called  the  four  quadrants.  We  suppose 
that  the  plane  Xj  is  turned  as  indicated  in  tig.  10,  so  that  the  point 
P  comes  to  Q  aqd  R  to  S,  then  the  quadrant  iu  which  the  point  A 
lies  IS  called  the  first,  and  we  say  that  in  the  first  quadrant  a  point 
lies  above  the  horizontal  and  in  front  of  the  vertical  plane.  Now 
we  go  round  the  axis  in  the  sense  in  which  the  plane  xj  is  turned 
and  come  in  succession  to  the  second,  third,  and  fourth  quadrant 
In  the  second  a  point  lies  above  the  plane  of  the  plan  and  behind 
the  plane  of  elevation,  and  so  on.  In  "  " "  '  "  ' 
side  view  of  the  planes  }n  fig.  10  the 
quadrants  are  marked,  and  in  each 
a  point  with  its  projection  is  taken. 
Fig.  11  shows  how  these  are  repre- 
sented when  the  plane  x,  is  turned 
down.     We  see  that 

A  point  lies  in  the  first  quadrant 
if  the  plan  lies  beloto,  the  elevation  Q~  q 
above  the  axis;  in  the  second  if  plan 
and  elevation  both  lie  above;  in  the 
third  if  .the  plan  lies  above,  the  eleva- 
tion below;  in  the  fourth  if  plan  and 
elevation  both  lie  below  the  axis. 

If  a  point  lies  in  the  horizontal 
pldTK^its  elevation  lies  in  the  axis 
and  the  plan  coincides  with  the  point  itself.  If  a  point  lies  in  the 
vertical  plane,  its  plan  lies  in  the  axis  and  the  elevation  coincides 
with  the  point  itself.  If  a  point  lies  in  the  axis,  both  its  plan  and 
elevation  lie  in  the  axis  and  coincide  with  it. 

Of  each  of  these  propositions,  which  will  easily  be  seen  to  be  true, 
the  converse  holds  also. 

§  30.  Represe.vtatios  of  a  PlAKE.— As  we  are  thus  enabled  to 
represent  points  in  a  plane,  we  can  represent  any  finite  figure  by 
representing  its  separate  points.  It  is,  however,  not  possible  to 
represent  a  plane  in  this  way,  for  the  projections  of  its  points  com- 
pletely cover  the  planes  Xj  and  x„,  and  no  plane  would  appear 
different  from  any  other.  But  any  plane  a  cuts  each  of  the  planes 
Xi,.x2  in  a  Une.  These  are  called  the  t'races  of  the  plane.  They 
cut  each  other  in  the  axis  at  the  point  where  the  latter  .cuts  the 
plane  a. 

A  plane  is  delermtned  by  its  two  traces,  which  are  two  lines  that 
meet  on  the  axis,  and,  conversely,  any  two  lines  which  incet  on  the 
axis  determine  a  plane. 

*  It  Is  very  convenient  here  to  make  nse  of  the  modern  extension  of  the  mean- 
ing of  an  angle  accordlnR  to  which  we  take  as  the  angle  between  two  non-inter- 
secting lines  the  angle  between  two  intersecting  lines  parallel  reypectively  to  the 
given  ones.  If  this  angle  is  a  right  angle,  the  lines  are  called  perpendiculars. 
EocUd's  definition  (XI.  def.  3),  and  theorem  (XI,  4)  may  then  be  stated  as  in  the 
text.    Compare  also  article  GsoitETjii  (Edcudiak),  $  75,  volV  x.  p.  286. 


Fig.  12. 


PROJECTION 


801 


"^ 

B 

\ 

X       D 

0    \c    X 

^N/ 

y    / 
A, 

/                           \ 

/ 
/ 

Q 

Tf  Oicplatie  is  paTalUl  to  lite  arts  Us  traces  arc  parallel  to  the  axis. 
Of  these  one  may  be  at  infinity;  then  the  jilane  will  cut  one  of  tlie 
]>Uiiies  of  projection  at  inlinity  and  will  bo  parallel  to  it.  Thus  a 
plane  parallel  to  the  horizontal  plane  of  the  plan  has  only  one  finite 
Jrnce,  viz.,  that  with  the  plane  of  elevation. 

if  the  plane  passes  Ihroiiyk  (he  axis  both  Us  traces  coincide  with  the 
axis.  This  is  the  only  case  in  which  the  representation  of  the 
bl«uo'by  its  two  traces  fails.  A  third  plane  of  projection  is  there- 
ffore  introduced,  which  is  best  t.iken  perpendicular  to  the  other 
^two,  We  call  it  simply  the  third  plane,  and  denote  it  by  itj.  Aa 
it  is  perpendicular  to  tt,,  it  may  be  talojn  as  the  plane  of  elevation, 
its  line  of  intersection  y  with  ir,  being  the  axis,  and  be  tnrned 
<kiwn  to  coincide  with  ir,.  This  is  represented  in  fig.  13.  OC  is 
the  axis  X  whilst  OA  and 
015  are  the  tracesof  the  third 
plane.  They  lie  in  one  line 
y.  Tho  plane  is  rabatted 
about  y  to  the  horizontal 
plane.  A  plane  a  through 
tho  axis  X  will  then  show  in 
it  a  trace  o-j.  In  fij;.  13  the 
Hues  OC  and  OP  will  thus 
be  .the  traces  of  a  plane 
through  tho  axis  x  which 
makes  an  angle  TOQ  with 
the  horizontal  plane. 

Wo  can  also  find  the  trace 
which  any  other  plane  makes 
with  iTj.  In  rabatting  the 
plane  tj  its  trace  Oil  with 

the  plane   r^  will  come  to  V      T? 

the  position  OD.     Hence  a  '''2-  ^''* 

plane  0  having  tho  traces  CA  and  CB  will  have  ^^•ith  the  third 
plane  the  trace  /Sj,  or  AD  if  00  =  015. 

It  also  follows  immediately  that — 

{f  a  plane  a  is  perpendicular  to  the  horizontal  plane,  then  every 
point  in  it  has  its  horizontal  projection  in  the  horizontal  trace  of  the 
plane,  as  all  the  rays  projecting  these  points  lie  in  the  plane  itself. 

Any  plane  which  is  perpendicular  to  llie  horizontal  plane  has  its 
vertical  trace  perpendicular  to  the  axis. 

Any  plane  which  is  perpendicular  to  the  vertical  plane  Tias  its 
horizontal  trace  perpendicular  to  the  axis  and  the  vertical  projections 
of  all  points  in  t/ie  plane  lie  in'this  trace. 

§31.  Representation  OF  A  Line. — A  lino  is  determined  cither 
by  two  points  in  it  or  by  two  planes  through  it.  Wo  get  accord- 
ingly two  representations  of  it  either  by  projections  or  by  traces. 

First. — A  line  a  is  represented  by  its  projections  a,  and  a.,  on  the 
two  planes  tj  and  ir^.  These  may  be  any  two  lines,  for,  bringing 
tho  planes  ir„  ir-,  into  their  original  position,  the  planes  through 
these  lines  perpendicular  to  it,  and  ir^  respectively  will  intersect  in 
some  line  a  which  has  a^,  a^  as  its  projections. 
'  Secondly. — A  line  a  is  represented  by  its  traces — that  is,  by  the 
points  in  which  it  cuts  the  two  planes  ir,,  ir^.  Aay  two  points  may 
be  taken  as  tho  traces  of  a  lino  in  sjiace,  for  it  is  determined  when 
tho  planes  are  in  their  original  position  as  the  lino  joining  tho  two 
traces.  This  representation  becomes  undetermined  if  the  two  traces 
coincide  in  the  axis.  In  this  case  we  again  use  a  third  plane,  or 
else  the  projections  of  the  line, 

§  '32.  Tho  fact  that  there  ara  different  methods  of  representing 
points  and  planes,  and  hence  two  methods  of  representing  lines, 
suggests  tho  principle  of  duality  (G.  §  41).  It  is  worth  while  to 
keep  this  in  mind.  It  is  also  worth  remembering  that  traces  of 
planes  or  lines  always  lie  in  the  planes  or  lines  which  they  repre- 
sent. Projections  do  not  as  a  rule  do  this  excepting  wlicn  tho 
point  or  line  projected  lies  in  one  of  tho  planes  of  projection. 

§  33.  Having  now  shown  how  to  represent  points,  planes,  and 
linos,  we  have  to  stuto  the  cpnditions  which  must  hold  in  order 
that  these  elements  may  lie  one  in  tho  other,  or  else  that  the  figure 
formed  by  them  nmy  possess  certain  metrical  properties.  It  will  be 
found  that  the  former  aro  very  much  simpler  than  the  latter. 

Before  we  do  this,  liowevcr,  we  shall  explain  the  notation  used ; 
for  it  is  of  great  importance  to  have  a  systematic  notation.  Wo 
shall  denote  points  in  space  by  capitals  A,  B,  C  ;  planes  in  space 
by  Greek  letters  o,  3,  7  ;  lines  in  space  by  small  letters  a,  b,  c; 
horizontal  projections  by  suflixes  1,  like  A],  a,  ;  vertical  pro- 
jections by  sullixes  2,  like  A,,  a,;  traces  by  single  and  double 
dailies  a'  a",  a'  a".  Hence  I',  will  be  the  horizontal  projection  of 
a  point  P  in  space;  a  line  a  will  have  the  projections  O],  a,  and 
tlio  traces  a'  and  a' ;  a  plane  a  has  the  traces  o'  and  o". 

§  34.  ]f  a  point  lies  in  a  line,  the  projections  of  the  point  lie  in  the 
projections  of  tlie  line. 

If  a  line  ties  in  a  plane,  the  traces  of  the  line  li*  in  the  traces  of 
the  plane. 

Those  propositions  follow  at  once  from  tho  definitions  of  tbo 
projections  and  of  the  traces. 

If  a  point  lies  in  two  lines  its  projections  must  lio  in  tho  pro- 
jections of  both.     Hence 


?:>' 


Fig.  14. 


If  two  lines,  givcii.  by  their  projecHcms,  intersect,  the  interaeetion  of 
their  plans  and  the  intersection  of  their  elevations  mist  lie  in  a  line 
pctpendicular  to  the  axis,  because  they  must  be  the  projections  of 
the  point  common  to  the  two  lines.    • 

Similarly — If  two  lines  given  by  their  traces  lie  in  the  same  plane 
or  intersect,  then  the  lines  joining  their  horizontal  and  vertical  traces 
respectively  must  meet  on  the  axis,  becauie  they  must  be  the  traces 
of  the  plane  through  them. 

§  35.  Tofirul  the  projections  of  a  line  which  joins  two  points  A,  B 
given  by  their  projections  A„  Aj  and  B,,  Bj,  we  join  A„  B,  and 
Aj,  Bj,;  these  will  be  the  projections  re(juireJ.  V'or  example,  the 
traces  of  a  lino  aro  two  points  in  the  line  whose  projections  are 
known  or  at  all  events  easily  found.  They  are  the  traces  them- 
selves and  the  feet  of  the  perpendiculars  from  them  to  the  axis. 

Hence  if  a',  a"  (fig.  14)  are  the  traces  of  a  line  a-,  and  if  the  per- 
pendiculars from  them  cut  the 
axis  in  P  and  Q  respectively, 
then  the  line  a'Q  will  be  the 
horizontal  and  (f"P  the  vertical 
projection  of  the  li^e.  a^. 

Conversely,  if  the  projec- 
tions (T],  Oj  of  a  line  are  given, 
and  if  tljese  cut  the  axis  in  Q  „    >■ 

and  P  respectively,  then  the ^ — 

perpeniicula,rs    Pa'   and  Qa"  ; 

to  the  axis  drawn  through  tliese 
points  cut  the  projectioiis  Oj 
and  a,  in  the  traces  a'  and  a".     ^.. 

To  find,  the  line  of  intersec- 
tion of  two  plaiics,  wo  observe 
thit  this  lin6  lies  in  both  planes ;  its  traces  must  therefore  lie  in 
tho  traces  of  both.  Hence  the  poiuts  where  the  horizontal  traces  of 
the  gipen  planes  meet  will  be  the  horizontal,  and  the  point  where 
the  vertical  traces  meet  the  vertical  trace  of  the  line  required. 

§  36.  To  decide  whether  a  point  A,  given  by  its  projections,  lies  in 
a  plane  a,  given  by  its  traces,  we  draw  a  line  p  by  joining  A  to  some 
point  in  tho  plane  a  and  determine  its  traces.  If  these  lie  in  tho 
traces  of  tlio  plane,  then  the  lino,  and  therefore  the  point  A,  lies 
in  the  plane  ;  otherwise  not.  This  is  conveniently  done  by  joining 
A,  to  some  point  p'  in  the  trace  a' ;  this  gives  p^ ;  and  the  point 
where  the  perpendicular  from  p'  to  tho  axis  cuts  the  latter  we  join 
to  A^  ;  this  gives  p^.  If  the  vertical  trace  of  this  line  lies  in  the 
vertical  trace  of  the  plane,  then,  and  then  only,  does  the  line^,  and 
with  it  the  point  A,  lie  in  the  piaffe  a. 

§  37.  Parallel  planes  have  parallH  traces,  because  parallel  planes 
are  cut  by  any  plane,  hence  also  by  x,  and  by  ir^,  in  parallel  lines. 

Parallel  lines  luive  parallel  projections,  because  points  at  infinity 
are  projected  to  infinity. 

If  a  line  is  parallel  to  a  plane,  then  lines  through  the  trace?  of  the 
line  and  parallel  to  the  traces  of  the  plane  must  meet  on  tlie  axis, 
because  these  lines  are  the  traces  of  a  piano  parallel  to  the  given 
plane. 

§  38.  To  draw  a  plane  through  two  intersecting  tines  or  thrmigh 
two  parallel  lines,  we  determine  the  traces  of  the  lines;  the  lines 
joining  their  horizontal  and  vertical  traces  respectively  will  bo  tho 
horizontal  and  vertiial  traces  of  tho  plane.  They'  will  meet,  at  a 
finite  point  or  at  infinity,  on  tho  axis  if  the  lines  do  intersect. 

To  draw  a  plane  through  a  line  and  a  jyoint  without  the  line,  wo 
join  the  given  point  to  any  point  in  the  lino  and  determine  the 
plane  through  this  and  tho  given  line. 

To  draw  a  plane  through  three  points  which  are  not  m  a  line,  we 
draw  two  of  the  lines  which  each  join  two  of  the  given  points  and 
draw  tho  plane  through  them.  If  tho  traces  of  all  three  lines  AB, 
BC,  CA  bo  found,  these  must  lio  in  two  lines  which  meet  on  tho 
axis. 

§  39.  We  have  in  the  last  example  got  more  points,  or  can  e-isily 
get  moro  poiuts,  than  are  necessary  lor  tho  determination  of  the 
figure  reijuircd — in  this  case  tho  traces  of  the  piano.  This  will 
happen  in  a  great  many  constructions  and  is  of  considerable 
importance.  It  may  happen  that  some  of  the  points  or  lines 
obtained  are  not  convenient  in  tho  actual  construction.  The 
horizontal  tracesof  the  lines  AB  and  AC  may,  for  instance,  fall  very 
near  together,  in  which  case  tho  line  joining  them  is  not  well  de- 
fined. Or,  one  or  both  of  them  may  lUl'l  beyond  tho  drawing  paper, 
Bo  that  they  are  practically  non-existent  for  the  construction.  In 
this  vjiib  tho  traces  of  the  lino  BC  may  be  used.  Or,  if  tho  vortical 
traces  of  AB  ond  AC  aro  both  in  convenient  position,  so  that  tho 
Vertical  trace  of  tho  required  plone  is  found  and  one.  of  tli« 
horizontal  traces  is  got,  tlien  wo  may 'join  tho  latter  to  tho  point 
whore  the  verticol  trace  cuts  the  axis. 

Furthermore  thei  draughtsman  will  never  forgot  that  the  lines 
which  he  draws  aro  not  malhomiilical  linos  without  thickness.  For 
this  reason  alone  every  drawing  is  alVoctod  by  some  errors.  And 
inaccuracies  also  come  in  in  drawinjj  tho  lines  rci.uired  in  the  con-' 
struction.  It  is  therefore  very  desirable  to  bo  olile  constantly  to 
clieck  tho  latter.-  'Such  chocks  always  pro.iont  themselves  when 
the  same  result  can   bo  obtained  by  dilToront  constructions,  or 

XIX.  —  loi 


802 


PROJECTION 


I 


when,  as  in  ths  above  case,  some  lines  must  meet  on  the  axis,  or 
if  three  points  must  lie  in  a  line.  A  careful  draughtsman  will 
always  avail  himself  of  these  checks. 

§  40.  To  draw  a  plane  through  a  given  point  parallel  to  a  given 
plane  a,  we  draw  through  the  point  two  lines  which  are  parallel  to 
the  plane  a,  and  determine  the  plane  through  them  ;  or,  as  we 
know  that  the  traces  of  the  required  plane  arc  parallel  to  those  of 
the  given  one  (§  37),  we  need  only  draw  one  line  I  through  the 
poiat  parallel  to  the  plane  and  find  one  of  its  traces,  say  the  vertical 
trace  I' ;  a  line  through  this  parallel  to  the  vertical  ti-ace  of  a  will 
be  the  vertical  trace  0'  of  the  required  plane  /8,  and  a  line  parallel 
to  the  horizontal  trace  of  a  meeting  0'  on  the  axis  will  be  the 
horizontal  trace  0. 

Let  A]  Aj  (fig.  15)  be  the  given  point,  a  a"  the  given  plane,  a 
line  li  througli  A,  parallel  to  o'  and  a  horizontal  line  ij  through 
A;  will  be  the  projec-  " 

tions  of  a  line  ^through 
A  parallel  to  the  plane, 
because  the  horizontal 
plane  through  this  line 
will  cut  the  plane  a  in 
a  line  e  which  has  its 
horizontal  projection 
Cj  parallel  to  a'. 

§  41.  We  now  come 
to  the  metrical  proper- 
ties of  figures. 

A  line  is  perpendicu- 
lar to  a  plane  if  the  projections  of  th4  line  are  perpendicular  to  the 
traces  of  the  plane.  W.e  prove  it  for  the  horizontal  projection.  If 
a  line  p  is  perpendicular  to  a  plane  a,  every  plane  through  p  is  per- 
pendicular to  a ;  hence  also  th^e  vertical  p'lane  which  projects  the 
line  p  to  ;;,.  As  this  plane  is  perpendicular  both  to  the  horizontal 
plane  and  to  the  plane  a,  it  is  also  perpendicular  to  their  intersection 
— that  is,  to  the  horizontal  trace  of  a.  It  follows  that  every  line  in 
this  projecting  plane,  therefore  also  p^,  the  plan  of  ^,  is  perpendicu- 
lar to  the  horizontal  trace  of  a.     Q.  E.  D. 

To  draw  a  plane  through  a  given  point  A  perpejidicular  to  a  given 
llnep,  we  first  draw  through  some  point  0  in  the  axis  lines  7',  7" 
perpendicular  respectively  to  the  projections  j»,  andp^  of  the  given 
line.  These  will  be  the  traces  of  a  plane  7  which  is  perpendicular 
to  the  given  line.  We  next  draw  through  the  given  point  A  a  plane 
parallel  to  the  plane  7  ;  this  will  be  the  plane  required. 

Other  metrical  properties  depend  on  the  determination  of  the  real 
size  or  shape  of  a  figure. 

In  general  the  projection  of  a  figure  differs  both  in  size  and  shape 
from  the  figure  itself.  But  figures  in  a  plane  parallel  to  a  plane 
of  projection  will  be  identical  with  their  projections,  and  will  thus 
be  given  in  their  true  dimensions.  In  other  cases  there  is  the 
problem,  constantly  recurring,  either  to  End  the  true  shape  and 
size  of  a  plane  figure  when  plan  and  elevation  are  given,  or,  con- 
versely, to  find  the  latter  from  the  known  true  shape  of  the  figure 
itself.  To  do  this,  the  plane  is  turned  about  one  of  its  traces  till  it 
is  laid  down  into  that  plane  of  projection  to  Which  the  trace  belongs. 
This  is  technically  called  rabatting  the  plane  respectively  into  the 
plane  of  the  plan  or  the  elevation.  As  there  is  no  difference  in  the 
treatment  of  the  two  cases,  we  shall  consider  only  the  case  of  rabatt- 
ing a  plane  o  into  the"  plane  of  the  plan.  The  plan  of  the  figure  is 
a  parallel  (orthographic)  projection  of  the  figure  itself.  The  results 
of  parallel  projection  (§§  1 7  and  18)  may  therefore  now  be  used.  The 
trace  a'  will  hereby  take  the  place  of  what  formerly  was  called  the 
axis  of  projection.  Hence  we  see  that  corresponding  points  in  the 
plan  and  in  the  rabatted  plane  are  joined  by  lines  which  are  perpen- 
dicular to  the  trace  o'  and  that  corresponding  lines  meet  on  this 
trace.  We  also  see  that  the  correspondence  is  completely  deter- 
mined if  we  know  for  one  point  or  one  line  in  the  plan  the  corre- 
sponding point  or  line  in  the  rabatted  plane. 

Before,  however,  we  treat  of  this  we  consider  some  special  cases. 

§  42.  To  determine  the 
distance  between  two  points 
A,  B  given  by  their  projec- 
tions  Aj,  Bj  and  A,,  Bj. 

Solution. — Thetwopoints 
A,  B  in  space  lie  vertically 
above  their  plans  A„  B, 
(fig.  16)  and  A,A  =  A„A„, 
BiB-BoBo.  Thefourpoints 
A,  B,  A],  B,  therefore  form 
a  plane  quadrilateral  on  the 
base  A,B,  and  having  right 
angles  at  the  base.  This 
plane  we  rabatt  about  A,B, 
by  drawing  A,A  and  BjB 
perpendicular  to  AjB,  and 
making  Ai A —  AjAj,  BiB  = 
required. 

The  construction  might  have  been  performed  in  the  elevation  by 


B„B». 


Fig.  16. 
Then  AB  will  give  the  length 


making  A^A^AjA,  and  B.,B  =  B„B,  on  lines  perpendicular  to  A3^ 
Of  course  AB  must  have  the  same  length  in  both  cases. 

This  figure  may  be  turned  into  a  model.  We  cut  the  paper  along 
AjA,  AB,  and  BB,  and  fold  the  piece  A, ABB,  over  along  A,B,  till 
it  stands  upright  at  right  angles  to  the  horizontal  plane.  Tlie  points 
A,  B  will  then  be  in  their  true  position  in  space  relative  to  itj. 
SimiUrly  if  BjBAA;,  be  cut  out  and  turned  along  AjB.^  through  a 
right  angle  we  shall  get  AB  in  its  true  position  relative  to  the  plane 
)r„.  Lastly  we  fold  the  whole  plane  of  the  paper  along  the  axis  x 
till  the  plane  ir,  is  at  right  angles  to  ir,.  In  this  position  ihe  two 
sets  of  points  AB  will  coincide  if  the  drawing  has  been  accurate. 
_  Models  of  this  kind  can  be  made  in  many  cases  and  their  construc- 
tion cannot  be  too  highly  recommended  in  order  to  realize  ortho- 
graphic projection.' 

§  43.  To  find  the  angle  between  two  given  lines  a.  b  of  which  Ott 
projections  Oj,  i,  a?id  «„,  b„  are  given. 

Solution.  —Let  re„  6i'(fig'.  17)  meet  in  Pj,  a„  b,  in  T,  then  if  the  line 
PjT  is  not  perpendicular 

to  the  axis  the  two  lines  \1/      /T" 

will  not  meet.  In  this 
case  we  draw  a  line  paral- 
lel to  b  to  meet  the  line  a. 
This  is  easiest  done  by 
drawing  first  the  line  PiPj 
perpendicular  to  the  axis 
to  meet  a^  in  Pj,  and  then 
drawing  through  P,  a  line 
c,  parallel  to  b^ ;  then  Jj,  c, 
will  be  the  projections  of 
a  line  c  which  is  parallel 
to  b  and  meets  a  in  P. 
The  plane  a  which  these 
two  lines  determine  we 
rabatt  to  the  plan.  We 
determine    the   traces  a'  ''§■  ^'• 

and  c'  of  the  lines  a  and  c ;  then  oV  is  the  trace  a'  of  their  plane. 
On  rabatting  the  point  P  comes  to  a  point  S  on  the  line  P,Q  per- 
pendicular to  a'c',  so  that  QS  =  QP.  But  QP  is  the  hypothenuse 
of  a  triangle  PPjQ  with  a  right  angle  Pj.  This  we  constract  by 
making  QR=.P„P2;  then  P,R  =  PQ.  The  lines  a'S  and  c'S  wij) 
therefore  ijiclude  angles  equal  to  those  made  by  the  given  lines.  U 
is  to  be  remembered  that  two  lines  include  two  angles  which  a*B 
supplementary.  Which  of  these  is  to  be  taken  in  any  special  case 
depends  upon  the  circumstances. 

To  deterini7ic  the  angle  between  a  line  and  a  plane,  we  draw  through 
any  point  in  the  line  a  perpendicular  to  the  plane  (§  41)  and 
determine  the  angle  between  it  and  the  given  line.  The  comple- 
ment of  this  angle  is  the  required  one. 

To  determine  the  angle  between  two  planes,  we  draw  through  any 
point  two  lines  perpendicular  to  the  two  planes  and  determine  tbe 
angle  between  the  latter  as  above. 

In  special  cases  it  is  simpler  to  determine  at  once  the  angja 
between  the  two  planes  by  taking  a  plane  section  perpendicular  tb 
the  intersection  of  the.  two  planes  and  rabatt  this.  This  is 
especially  the  case  if  one  of  the  planes  is  the  horizontal  or  vertical 
plane  of  projection. 

Thus  m  fi^.  18  the  angle  P^QR  is  the  angle  which  the  plane  a 
makes  with  the  horizontal  plane. 

§  44.  We  return  to  the  general  case  of  rabatting  a  plane  a  of 
which  the  traces  a'  a"  are  given. 

Here  it  will  be  convenient  to  determine  first  the  position  whicji 
the  trace  a" — which  is  a  line  in  a — assumes  when  rabatted.  Pointa 
in  this  line  coincide 
with  their  elevations. 
Hence  it  is  given  iu 
its  true  dimension, 
and  we  can  measure 
off  along  it  the  true 
distance  between  two 
pointsinit.  Ifthere- 
fore  (fig.  18)  P  is  any 
point  in  a."  originally 
coincident  with  its 
elevation  P.,  and  if 
0  is  the  point  where 
a"  cuts  the  axis  a;,  so 
that  O  is  also  in  a', 
then  the  point  P  will 
after  rabatting  the 
plane  assume  such  a  position  that  OP  — OPj.  At  the  same  time 
the  plan  is  an  orthographic  projection  of  the-  plane  o.  Hence  tbe 
line  joining  P  to  the  plan  P,  will  after  rabatting  be  perpendicular 
to  o'.  But  Pj  is  known  ;  it  is  the  foot  of  the  perpendicular  from 
Pjj  to  the  axis  x.  We  draw  therefore,  to  find  P,  from  Pj  a  peiwn- 
dicular  P,Q  to  a'  and  find  on  it  a  point  P  such  that  OP-OPi. 

>  In  order  to  make  a  sharp  ciease  plong  A,B,.  It  Is  well  to  place  a  straight  edg* 
along  tbia  lino,  and  tbeo  to  tarn  the  piece  AjABB,  np  againat  It. 


PROJECTION 


803 


r. 


Then  the  line  OP  will  he  the  position  st  o"  when  rabatted.  This 
line  corresponds  therefore  to  the  plan  of  a" — that  is,  to  the  axis  x, 
corresponding  points  on  these  lines  being  those  which  'lie  on  a  per- 
jicndicnlar  to  a'. 

We  have  thus  one  pair  of  corresponding  lines  and  can  now  find 
for  any  point  Bj  in  tne  plan  the  corresponding  point  B  in  the 
rabatted  plane.  We  draw  a  line  through  B,,  say  B,P„  cutting  o' 
in  C.  To  it  corresponds  the  line  CP,  and  the  point  where  this  is 
out  by  the  projecting  ray  through  Bj,  perpendicular  to  o',  is  the  re- 
quired point  B. 

Similarly  any  figure  in  the  labattcd  plane  can  be  found  when  the 
plan  is  known ;  but  tills  is  usually  found  in  a  different  manner  with- 
out any  reforenco  to  the  general  theory  of  parallel  projection.  As 
this  niethod  and  the  reasoning  employed  for  it  have  their  peculiar 
advantages,  we  give  it  also. 

Supposing  the  planes  tt,  and  ir.j  to  be  in  their  positions  in  space 

iipendicular  to  each  other,  we  take  a  section  of  the  whole  figure 
ly  a  plane  perpendicular  to  the  trace  a  about  which  we  are  going 
to  rabatt  the  plane  a.  Let  this  section  pass  through  the  point  Q  in 
a'.  Its  traces  will  then  be  the  lines  QP,  and  P,P,  (fig.  18).  These 
will  bo  at  right  angles,  and  will  therefore,  together  with  the  section 
QPjOf  the  plane  o,  form  a  right-angled  triangle  QP1P3  with  the 
right  angle  at  P„  and  baring  the  sides  PjQ  and  P,p3  which  both 
are  given  in  their  true  lengths.  This  triangle  we  rabatt  about  its 
>>ase  PjQ,  making  P,R  =  PjPj.  The  line  QR  will  then  give  the  true 
length  of  tho  line  QP  in  space.  If  now  the  plane  a  be  turned 
about  a  the  point  P  will  describe  a  circle  about  Q  as  centre  with 
radius  QP  =  QR,  in  a  plane  perpendicular  to  the  trace  o'.  Hence 
when  the  plane  o  has  been  rabatted  into  the  horizontal  plane  the 
point  P  will  lie  in  the  perpendicular  P,Q  to  o',  so  that  QP  =  QR. 

If  A,  is  the  plan  of  a  point  A  in  the  plane  o,  and  if  A,  lies  in 
QP„  then  the  point  A  will  lie  vertically  above  Aj  in  the  line  QP. 
<Jii  turning  down  the  triangle  QPiPj,  the  point  A  will  conio  to  Aj, 
the  line  A, A,,  being  perpendicular  to  QPi.  Hence  A  will  be  a  point 
in  QP  such  that  QA-QA,^ 

If  Bj  is  the  plan  of  another  point,  but  such  that  A,B]  is  parallel 
to  a',  then  the  corresponding  line  AB  will  also  be  parallel  to  a. 
Hence,  if  through  A  a  line  AB  be  drawn  parallel  to  a',  and  B,  B 
perpendicular  to  a,  then  their  intersection  gives  the  point  B.  Thus 
of  any  point  given  in  plan  the  real  position  in  the  plane  o,  when 
rabatted,  can  be  found  by  this  second  method.  This  is  the  one 
most  generally  given  in  books  on  geometrical  drawing.  The  first 
method  explained  is,  however,  in  most  cases  preferable  as  it  gives 
the  draughtsman  a  greater  variety  of  constructions.  It  requiies  a 
somewhat  greater  amount  of  theoretical  knowledge. 

If  instead  of  our  knowing  the  plan  of  a  figure  the  latter  is  itself 
f^ven ;  then  the  process  of  finding  the  plan  is  the  reverse  of  the 
•hove  and  needs  little  explanation.     We  give  an  example. 

§  45.  Problem. — It  is  required  to  draw  theplan  and  elevation  of 
a  polygon  of  which  the  real 
thape  and  position  in  a  given 
plane  a  are  known. 

Solution. — We  first  rabatt 
the  plane  a  (fig.  19)  as  before 
so  that  Pi  comes  to  P,  hence 


Fig.  19.  \ 

OP,  to  OP.  Let  the  given  polygon  in  a  be 
the  figure  ABCDE.  We  i>r<)jii.t,  not  the 
vertices,  but  the  sides.  ,  To  project  the  line 
AB,  wu  pioduro  it  to  cut  a  in  F  and  OP  in 
G,  and  draw  GG,  pcrpemliculai'  to  a' ;  then 
<;,  corresponds  to  G,  therefore  FG,  to  FG.  In  the  same  manner  wo 
might  project  all  the  other  sides,  at  least  thoso  which  cut  OF  and 
OP  in  convenient  points.  It  will  bobc^st,  however,  first  to  produce 
all  the  sides  to  cut  OP  and  d  and  then  to  draw  all  the  projecting 
mys  through  A,1?,C  .  .  .  perpendicular  to  o',  and  in  tho  sania  diitic- 


tion  the  lines  G.Gi,  &c.  By  drawing  FO  we  get  the  joints  A,,  B, 
on  the  projecting  ray  through  A  and  B.  We  then  join  B  to  the 
point  Jl  where  BO  produced  meets  the  trace  a'.  This  gives  C,. 
So  we  go  on  till  we  have  found  E,.  The  line  A,  E,  must  then  meet 
AE  in  o',  and  this  gives  a  check.  If  one  of  the  sides  cuts  a'  or  OP 
beyond  the  drawing  paper  this  method  fails,  but  then  wo  may 
easily  find  tho  projection  of  some  other  line,  say  of  a  diagonal,  or 
dii-ectly  the  projection  of  a  point,  by  the  former  methods.  The 
diagonals  may  also  serve  to  check  tho  drawing,  for  two  corre- 
sponding diagonals  must  meet  in  the  trace  a'. 

Having  got  the  plan  we  easily  find  the  elevation.  The  elevation 
of  G  is  above  Gi  in  a",  and  that  of  F  is  at  F,  in  the  axis.  This 
gives  the  elevalion  FjGj  of  FG  and  in  it  wo  get  A^B,  in  the 
verticals  through  A,  and  Bj.  As  a  check  we  have  OG— 00^ 
Similarly  the  elevation  of  the  other  sides  and  vertices  are  found. 

§  46.  We  have  now  obtained  the  ABC  of  descriptive  geometry, 
and  proceed  to  give  some  applications  to  tho  representation  of 
solids  and  of  the  solution  of  problems  connected  with  them. 

Problem.  — Of  a  pyramid  are  given  its  base,  the  length  cf  fht 
perpendicular  from  tlu  vertex  to  the  base,  and  the  point  where  this 
perpendicular  cuts  the  base  ;  it  is  required  first  to  develop  the  whole 
surf  cue  of  the  pyramid  into  one  plane,  and  second  to  determine  its 
section  by  a  plane  which  cuts  the  plane  of  the  base  in  a  gitsn  line 
and  makes  a  given  angle  with  U. 

Solution. — (1)  As  the  planes  of  projeotion  are  not  given  we  can 
take  them  as  we  like,  and  we  select  them  in  snch  a  manner  that 
the  solution  becomes  as  simple  as  possible.'  We  take  the  plane  of 
the  base  as  the  horizontal  plane  and  the  vertical  plane  perpen- 
dicular to  the  plane  of  the  section.  Let  then  (fig.  20)  ABCD  be 
the  base  of  the  pyramid,  y 

V,  the  plan  of  the  ver-  ' 

tex,  then  the  elevations 
of  A,  B,  C,  D  will  be  in 
the  axis  at  A3,  Bj,  Cj, 
Dj,  and  the  vertex  at 
some  point  Vj  above  V, 
at    a    known    distance 


from  the  axis.  Tho  lines  V,A,  V,B,  &c., 
will  bo  the  plans  and  tho  lines  V,A„ 
VjBj,  &c.,  the  elevations  of  tho  edges  of 
the  pyramid,  of  which  thus  plan  and  eleva- 
tion are  known. 

We  develop  the  surface  into  the  plane  of  the  base  by  turning 
each  lateral  face  about  its  lower  edge  into  tho  horizontal  piano  by 
tlie  method  used  in  §  43.  If  ono  face  iias  been  turned  diiwn,  say 
ABV  to  ABP,  then  the  point  Q  to  which  the  vortex  of  the  nrit 
fflco  BCV  comes  can  bo  got  more  siinjily  by  finding  on  the  line 
V,Q  iwrpcudicular  to  PC  the  point  Q  such  tliat  BQ-BP,  for  thcss 
lilies  rejiresent  tho  same  edge  BV  of  tho  pyramiil.  NmI  R  is 
found  by  making  CR-CQ,  and  so  on  till  wo  have  got  tho  last 
vertex— in  this  case  S.  The  fact  that  AS  must  equal  AP  gives  a 
convenient  chock. 

(2)  Tho  plane  a  whoso  section  we  have  to  determine  has  its  hori- 
zontal trace  given  perpendicular  to  tho  axis,  and  its  vertical  trace 
makes  the  given  angle  with  tho  axis.  This  detenniiic  1  it  To  find 
the  section  of  the  pyramid  by  this  plane  there  are  two  methods 
a]»jilicablo  :  wo  find  tho  sections  of  tho  jilano  cither  with  the  faces 
or  with  the  edges  of  tho  pyramid.     Wo  uao  the  latter. 

As  tho  ]jlanc  a  is  perpendicular  to  the  vcrlii-nl  plane,  the  trace 
o"  contains  the  projection  of  every  figure  in  it  ;  tlie  points  E,,  F„ 
0,,  llj  where  this  Iraco  cuts  tho  efevaliuns  of  tho  fdgcs  will  tliere- 
foro  bo  tho  elevatioiiB  of  tho  jioints  whcio  tho  cdgOs  cut  a.  From 
these  wo  find  the  plans  E„  l'„  G„  1I„  and  by  joining  them  the 


8U-t 


1'  U  O  J  E  C  T  1  0  N 


plan  of  the  section.  If  from  E,,  F,  lines  be  drawn  perpendicular 
to  AB,  these  will  determine  the  points  E,  F  on  tlie  dcvclojieJ  faci' 
in  which  the  plane  a  cuti  it  ;  liencc  also  the  line  EF.  Similarly  on 
the  otlier  faces.  Of  conrse  BF  mnst  be  the  same  length  on  Bl' 
and  on  BQ.  If  the  plane  aberabatted  to  the  plnn,  we  p;et  the  real 
shape  of  the  section  as  shown  in  the  fignre  in  EFGH.  This  is  done 
Easily  by  making  F„F  =  0F2,  4:c.  If  the  figure  representing  tlie 
development  of  tlie  pyramid,  or  -better  a  copy  of  it,  is  cut  out,  and 
if  the  lateral  faces  be  bent  along  the  lines  AB,  BC,  kc.,  we  get  a 
model  of  the  pyramid  with  the  section  marked  on  its  faces.  This 
may  be  placed  on  its  plan  ABCD  and  the  plane  of  elevation  bent 
about  the  axis  x.  The  pyramid  stands  then  in  front  of  its  eleva- 
tions. If  next  the  plane  o  with  a  hole  cut  out  representing  the 
true  section  be,  bent  along  the  trace  a  till  its  edge  coincides  with 
o",  the  edges  of  the  hole  ought  to  coincide  with  the  lines  EF,  FG, 
&C.,  on  the  faces. 

§  47.  Polyhedra  like  the  pyramid  in  §  46  are  represented  by  the 
projections  of  their  edges  and  vertices.  But  solids  bounded  by 
curved  surfaces,  or  surfaces  themselves,  cannot  be  thus  represented. 

For  a  surface  we  may  Uie,  as  in  case  of  the  plane,  its  trace.' — that 
is,  the  curves  in  which  it  cuts  the  planes  of  projection.  We  may 
also  project  points  and  curves  on  the  surface.  A  ray  cuts  tlie 
surface  generally  in  more  than  one  point;  hence  it  will  happen 
that  some  of  the  rays  touch  the  surface,  if  two  of  these  points 
coincide.  The  points  of  contact  of  these  r.ays  will  form  some 
curve  on  the  surface  and  this  will  appear  from  the  centre  of  pro- 
jection as  the  boundary  of  the  surface  or  of  part  of  the  surface. 
The  outlines  of  all  surfaces  of  solids  which  we  see  about  us  are 
formed  by  the  points  at  which  rays  through  our  eye  touch  the 
surface.  The  projections  of  these  contours  are  therefore  best 
adapted  to  give  an  idea  of  the  shape  of  a  surface. 

Thus  the  tangents  drawn  froni  any  finite  centre  to  a  sphere  form 
a  right  circular  cone,  and  this  will  be  cut  by  any  plane  in  a  conic. 
It  is  often  called  the  projection  of  a  sphere,  but  it  is  better  called 
the  contour-line  of  the  sphere,  as  it  is  the  boundary  of  the  projec- 
tions of  all  points  on  the  sphere. 

If  the  centre  is  at  infinity  the  tangent  cone  becomes  a  n^ht 
circular  cylinder  touching  the  s])here  along  a  great  circle,  and  if 
the  projection  is,  as  in  our  case,  orthographic,  then  the  section  of 
this  cone  by  a  plane  of  projection  will  be  a  circle  equal  to  the 
great  circle  of  the  sphere.  We  get  such  a  circle  in  the  plan  and 
another  in  the  elevation,  their  centres  being  plan  and  elevation  of 
the  centre  of  the  sphere. 

Similarly  the  rays  touching  a  cone  of  the  second  order  will  lie 
in  two  planes  which  pass  through  the  vertex  of  the  cone,  the 
contour-line  of  the  projection  of  tlie  cone  consists  therefore  of  two 
lines  meeting  in  the  projection  of  the  vertex.  These  may,  however, 
be  invisible  if  no  real  tangent  rays  can  be  drawn  from  the  cenfre  of 
projection;  and  this  happens  when  the  ray  projecting  the  centre 
of  the  vertex  lies  within  the  cone.  In  this  case  the  traces  of  the 
cone  are  of  importance.  Thus  in  representing  a  cone  of  revolution 
with  a  vertical  axis  we  get  in  the  plan  a  circular  trace  of  the 
surface  whose  centre  is  the  plan  of  the  vertex  of  the  cone,  and  in 
the  elevation  the  contour,  consisting  of  a  pair  of  lines  intersecting 
in  the  elevation  of  the  vertex  of  the  cone.  The  circle  in  the 
plan  and  the  pair  of  lines  in  the  elevation  do  not  determine  the 
surface,  for  an  infinite  number  of  surfaces  might  be  conceived  which 
pass  through  the  circular  trace  and  touch  two  planes  through  the 
contour  lines  in  the  vertical  plane.  The  surface  becomes  only 
completely  defined  if  we  write  down  to  the  figure  that  it  shall 
represent  a  cone.  The  same  holds  for  all  surfaces.  Even  a  plane 
is  fully  represented  by  its  traces  only  under  the  silent  understanding 
that  the  traces  are  those  of  a  plane. 

S  48.  Some  of  the  simpler  problems  connected  with  the  repre- 
sentation of  surfaces  are  the  determination  of  plane  sections  and  of 
the  curves  of  intersection  of  two  such  surfaces.  The  former  is 
constantly  used  in  nearly  all  problems  concerning  surfaces.  .  Its 
solution  depends  of  course  on  the  nature  of  the  surface. 

To  determine  the  curve  of  intersection  of  two  surfaces,  we  take  a 
plane  and  determine  its  section  with  each  of  the  two  surface.', 
rabatting  this  plane  if  necessary.  This  gives  two  curves  which  lie 
in  the  same  plane  and  whose  intersections  will  give  us  points  on 
both  surfaces.  It  must  here  be  remembered  that  two  curves  in 
spice  do  not  necessarily  intersect,  hence  that  the  points  in  which 
their  projections  intersect  are  not  necessarily  the  projections  of 
points  common  to  the  two  curves.  This  will,  however,  be  the  case 
if  the  two  curves  lie  in  a  common  plane.  By  taking  then  a  number 
of  plane  sections  of  the  surfaces  we  can  get  as  many  points  on  their 
curve  of  intersection  as  we  like.  These  planes  have,  of  course,  to 
be  selected  in  such  a  way  that  the  sections  are  curves  as  simple  as 
the  case  permits  of,  and  such  that  they  can  be  easily  and  accurately 
drawn.  Thus  when  possible  the  sections  should  be  straight  lines 
or  circles.  This  not  only  saves  time  in  dra«-ing  but  determines  all 
points  on  the  sections,  and  therefore  also  the  points  where  the  two 
curves  meet,  with  equal  accuracy. 

§  49.  We  give  a  few  examples  how  these  sections  have  to  be  selected. 

A  cona  is  cut  by  every  plane  through  the  vertex  in  lines,  and  if 


it  is  a  cone  of  revolution  by  jilancs  perpendicular  to  the  axis  in 
circles. 

A  cylinder  is  cut  by  every  plane  parallel  to  the  axis  in  lines,  and 
if  it  is  a  cylinder  of  revolution  by  planes  perpendicular  to  the  axis 
in  circles. 

A  sphere  is  cut  by  every  plane  in  a  circle. 

Hence  in  case  of  two  cones  situated  anywhere  in  space  we  take 
sections  through  both  vertices.  These  will  cut  both  cones  in  lines. 
Similarly  in  case  of  two  cylinders  we  m.ay  take  sections  parallel  to 
the  axis  of  both.  In  case  of  a  sphere  and  a  cone  of  revolution  with 
vertical  axis,  liorizontal  sections  will  cut  both  surfaces  in  circles 
whose  plans  are  circles  and  whose  elevations  aroJines,  whilst  vertical 
sections  through  the  vertex  of  the  cone  cut  the  latter  in  lines  and 
the  sphere  in  circles.  To  avoid  drawing  the  projections  of  these 
circles,  which  would  in  general  be  ellipses,  we  rabatt  the  plane  and 
then  draw  the  circles  in  their  real  shape.    And  so  on  in  other  cases. 

Special  attention  should  in  all  cases  be  paid  to  tlio'ic  points  in 
which  the  tangents  to  the  projection  of  the  curve  of  intersection 
are  parallel  or  perpendicular  to  the  axis  x,  or  where  these  projections 
touch  the  contour  of  one  of  the  surfaces. 

PERSPECTIVE. 

§  50.  We  have  seen  that,  if  all  points  in  a  figure  be  pro- 
jected from  a  fixed  centre  to  a  plane,  each  point  on  the  pro- 
jection will  be  the  projection  of  all  points  on  the  projecting 
ray.  A  complete  representation  by  a  single  projection  is 
therefore  possible  only  when  there  is  but  one  point  to  be 
projected  on  each  ray.  This  is  the  case  by  projecting 
from  one  plane  to  another,  but  it  is  also  the  case  if  we 
project  the  visible  parts  of  objects  in  nature  ;  for  every  ray 
of  light  meeting  the  eye  starts,  from  that  point  in  which 
the  ray,  if  we  follow  its  course  from  the  eye,  backward 
meets  for  the  first  time  any  object.  Thus,  if  we  project 
from  a  fi.xed  centre  the  visible  part  of  objects  to  a  plane  or 
other  surface,  then  the  outlines  of  the  projection  would  give 
the  same  impression  to  the  eye  as  the  outlines  of  the 
things  projected,  provided  that  one  eye  only  be  used  and 
that  this  be  at  the  centre  of  projection.  If  at  the  same 
time  the  light  emanating  from  the  different  points  in  the 
picture  could  be  made  to  be  of  the  same  kind — that  is,  of 
the  same  colour  and  intensity  and  of  the  same  kind  of 
polarization — as  that  coming  from  the  objects  themselves, 
then  the  projection  would  give  sensibly  the  same  impres- 
sion as  the  objects  themselves.  The  art  of  obtaining  this 
result  constitutes  a  chief  part  of  the  technique  of  a 
painter,  who  includes  the  rules  which  guide  him  under  the 
name  of  perspective,  distinguishing  between  linear  and 
aerial  perspective, — the  former  relating  to  the  projection, 
to  the  draiuing  of  the  outlines,  the  latter  to  the  colouring 
and  the  shading  ofi  of  the  colours  in  order  to  give  the 
appearance  of  distance.  We  have  to  deal  only  with  the 
former,  which  is  in  fact  a  branch  of  geometry  consisting  in 
the  applications  of  the  rules  of  projection. 

§  51.  Our  problem  is  the  following:— TAcre  is  given  a  figure  in, 
space,  the  plane  of  a  picture,  and  a  point  as  eentre  of  projecti<m  ;  it  is. 
required  to  project  the  figure  from  the  point  to  the  plane. 

From  what  has  been  stated  about  projection  in  general  it  follows 
at  once  that  the  projection  of  a  point  is  a  point,  that  of  a  line  a 
line.  Further,  the  projection  of  a  point  at  infinity  in  a  line  is  in 
general  a  finite  point.  Hence  parallel  lines  are  projected  into  a 
pencil  of  lines  meeting  at  some  finite  point.  This  point  is  called 
the  vanishing  point  of  the  direction  to  which  it  belon^._  To  find 
it,  we  project  the  point  at  infinity  in  one  of  the  parallel  lines  ;  th.at 
is,  we  draw  through  the  eye  a  line  in  the  given  direction.  ^This  cuts 
the  picture  plane  in  the  point  required. 

Similarly  aU  points  at  infinity  in  a  plane  are  projected  to  a  line 
(§  6)  which  is  called  the  vanishing  line  ofjhe  plane  and  which  is 
common  to  all  parallel  planes.  .  -    ,. 

All  lines  parallel  to  a  plane  hare  their  vanishing  points  in  a  line, 
viz.,  in  the  vanishing  line  of  the  plane'. 

All  lines  parallel  to  the  picture  plane  have  their  vanishing  pomts 
at  infinity  in  the  picture  plane;  hence  parallel  lines  which  are 
parallel  to  tlie  picture  plane  appear  in  tlie  projection  asparnXlel  lines 
in  their  true  direction.  ,  ■  i 

Tlie  projection  of  a  line  is  determined  by  the  projection  of  two  poinu 
in  it,  these  being  very  often  its  vanishing  point  and  its  trace  on  the 
picture  plane.  The  projecticn  of  a  point  is  determined  by  the  pro- 
jection of  tioo  lilies  th'-ough  it. 


r  11  O  J  E  0  T  1  O  N 


80;-) 


These  aro  the  general  rules  which  we  now  afiply.  We  suppose 
tlie  picture  plane  to  be  vertical. 

§  52.  Let  (fig.  21)  S  be  the  centre  of  projection,  where  the  eye  is 
situated,  and  which  in  iierspective  is  calleil  ihepoiiU  o/ sight,  ABKL 
the  picture  plane,  AbMN 
%  horizontal  plane  ou 
which  we  suppose  the  ob- 
jects to  rest  of  which  a 
perspective  drawing  is  to 
Le  made.  The  lowest 
plane  which  contains 
points  that  are  to  appear 
in  the  picture  is  generally 
selected  for  this  purpose, 
and  is  therefore  called  the 
ground  plane,  or  some- 
times the  geometrical 
plane.  It  cuts  the  picture 
plane  in  a  horizoutal  line 
AB  called  the  ground  line 
or  base  line  or  funda- 
mental line  of  the  pipture. 
A  horizontal  line  SV, 
drawn  through  the  eye  S  perpendicular  to  the  picture,  cuts  the 
latter  at  a  point  V  called  the  ceiitre  of  the  picture  or  the  centre  of 
vision.  The  distance  SV  of  the  eye  from  the  picture  is  often  called 
the  distance  simply,  and  the  height  ST  of  the  eye  above  the  ground 
the  height  of  the  eye. 

The  vanishing  line  of  the  ground  plane,  and  hence  of  every  hori' 
zontal  plane,  is  got  by  drawing  the  projecting  rays  from  S  to  the 
points  at  infinity  in  the  plane — in  other  words,  by  drawing  all  hori- 
zontal rays  through  S.  These  lie  in  a  horizontal  .plane  which  cuts 
the  picture  plane  in  a  horizontal  line  DD'  through  the  centre  of 
vision  V.  This  line  is  called  the  horizon  in  the  picture.  It  con- 
tains the  vanishing  points  of  all  horizontal  lines,  the  centre  of 
vision  V  being  the  vanishing  point  of  all  lines  parallel  to  SV,  that 
is  perpendicular  to  the  picture  plane.  To  find  the  vanishing  point 
of  any  other  line  we  draw  through  S  the  ray  projecting  the  point  at 
infinity  in  the  line ;  that  is,  we  draw  through  S  a  ray  parallel  to  the 
line,  and  determine  the  point  where  this  ray  cuts  the  picture  plane. 
If  the  line  is  given  by  its  plan  on  the  ground  plane  and  its  elevation 
on  the  picture  plane,  then  its  vanishing  point  can  at  once  be  deter- 
mined ;  it  is  the  vertical  trace  of  a  line  parallel  to  it  through 
the  eye  (comp.  §  35). 

§  53.  To  have  construction  in  a  single  plane,  we  suppose  the  pic- 
ture plane  turnedidown  into  the  ground  plane  ;  but  before  this  is 
done  the  ground  plane  is  pulled  forward  till,  say,  the  line  MN  takes 
ftie  place  of  AB,  and  then  the  picture  plane  is  turned  down.  By  this 
we  keep  the  plan  of  the 
figure  and  tiie  picture 
itself  separate.  In  this 
new  position  the  plane 
of  the  picture  will  be 
that  of  the  paper  (fig. 
22).  On  it  are  marked 
the  base  line  AB,  the 
centre  of  vision  V,  and 
the  horizon  DD',  and 
also  the  limits"  ABKL 
of  the  actual  picture. 
Those,  however,  need  not 
necessarily  bo  marked. 
In  the  plan  the  picture 
plane  must  be  supposed 
to  pass  through  AjB,, 
and  to  be  perpendicular 
to  the  ground  plane.  If 
wo  further  suppose  that 
the  horizontal  plane 
through  the  eye  which 
cuts  the  picture  plane 
in  the  horizon  DL)'  be 
turned  down  about  the  horizon,  then  the  centre  of  eight  will  come 
to  the  point  S,  where  VS  equals  the  distance  of  the  eye. 

To  find  the  vanishing  point  of  any  line  in  a  horizontal  plane, 
we  have  to  draw  through  S  a  line  in  the  given  direction  and  sue 
where  it  cuts  the  horizon.  For  instance  to  find  the  vanishing 
points  of  the  two  horizontal  dirpctions  which  make  angles  of  ib 
with  the  horizon,  we  draw  through  S  lines  SD  and  8D'  making  each 
an  angle  of  45°  with  the  line  DU'.  These  points  can  also  be  found 
by  making  VD  and  VD'  each  en\ial  to  the  distance  SV.  The  two 
paints  D,  D'  are  therefore  called  the  distance  pointB. 

§  54.  Let  it  now  be  required  to  find  the  perspective  P  of  a  point 
P,  (figs.  21  and  22)  in  the  ground  plane.  We  draw  through  P,  two 
lines  of  which  the  projection  can  easily  be  found.  The  most  con- 
venient lines  aro  the  perpendicular  to  the  ba.se  line,  and  a  line 
m&king  an  anule  nf  4.^°  with  the  picture  )>lane.     Theae  linos  in  the 


ground  plan  aro  P|Q,  and  P,Ri.  The  first  cuts  the  jiicture  at  y,  or 
at  Q,  and  has  the  vanishing  point  V;  hence  QV  is  its  perspective. 
The  other  cuts  the  ]>icture  in  K],  or  rather  in  K,  and  has  the  vanish- 
ing point  D;  its  perspective  is  KD.  These  two  lines  meet  at  P, 
which  is  the  point  recpiired.  It  will  be  noticed  that  the  line 
QR  =  Q,R,  =  QiP,  gives  the  distance  of  the  point  P  behind  the  pic- 
ture plane.  Hence  if  we  know  the  point  Q  where  a  perpendicular 
from  a  point  to  the  picture  jdane  cuts  the  latter,  an<l  also  the  dis- 
tance of  the  point  beiiind  the  picture  plane,  we  can  find  its  pers|iec- 
tive.  We  join  Q  to  V,  set  off  yR  to  tiie  right  equal  to  the  distance 
of  the  point  behind  the  picture  plane,  and  join  K  to  the  distance 
point  to  the  left ;  where  RD  cuts  QV  is  the  point  P  required.  (Ir 
we  set  offQR' to  the  left  equal  to  the  distance  and  join  R  to  the  dis- 
tance point  D'  to  the  right. 

If  the  distance  of  the  point  from  the  picture  should  be  very  great, 
the  point  R  might  fall  pt  too  great  a  distance  from  Q  to  be  on  the 
drawing.  In  this  case  we  might  set  off  Q\V  equal  to  the  Mth  part 
of  the  distance  and  join  it  to  a  point  E,  so  that  VE  equals  the  nth 
part  of  VD.  Thus  if  QW  =  4QR  and  VE-JVD,  then  WE  will 
again  pass  through  P.  It  is  thus  possible  to  find  for  eveiy  point  in 
the  gi-ound  plane,  or  in  fact  in  any  horizontal  plane,  the  perspective ; 
for  the  constrnction  will  not  be  altered  if  the  ground  plane  bo 
replaced  by  any  other  horizontal  plane.  We  can  in  fact  uovi  Jind 
Che  perspective  ef  every  point  as  soon  as  we  know  tliefoot  of  the  per- 
pendicular drawn  from  it  to  the  picture  plane,  that  is,  if  we  know  its 
elevation  on  the  picture  plane,  audits  distance  behind  it.  For  this 
reason  it  is  often  convenient  to  draw  in  slight  outlines  the  elevation 
of  the  figure  on  the  picture  plane. 

Instead  of  drawing  tho  elevation  'of  the  figure  we  m.ay  also 
proceed  as  follows.    Suppose  (fig.  23)  A,  to  be  the  projection  of  the 


Q      ^      R 

Fig.  23. 

plan  of  a  point  A.  Then  the  point  A  lies  vertically  above  A, 
because  vertical  lines  appear  in  the  perspective  as  vertical  lines 
(§  51).  If  then  the  line  VAj  cuts  tho  picture  plane  at  Q,  and  we 
erect  at  Q  a  perpendicular  in  the  picture  plane  to  its  base  and  set 
off  ou  it  QAj  equal  to  the  real  height  of  the  point  A  above  the 
ground  plane,  then  the  point  A,  is  the  elevation  of  A  and  hence  the 
line  AjV  will  pass  through  the' point  A.  The  latter  thus  is  deter- 
mined by  the  intersection  of  ^he  vertical  lino  through  Aj  and  tha 
lino  AjV. 

This  process  diflers  from  the  one  mentioned  before  in  this  that 
tho  construction  for  finding  the  point  is  not  made  in  the  horizontal 
plane  in  which  it  lies,  but  that  its  plan  is  constructed  in  the  ground 
plane.  But  this  has  a  great  advantage.  The  perspective  of  a  hori- 
zontal plane  from  the  picture  to  tlio  line  at  infinity  occupies  in  the 
picture  the  space  between  the  line  where  the  plane  cuts  the  picture 
and  the  horizon,  and  this  space  is  the  greater  tho  farther  the  piano 
is  from  the  eye,  that  is,  the  farther  its  trace  on  the  picture  piano 
lies  from  tho  horizon.  Tho  horizontal  jilane  through  tho  eye  is 
projected  into  a  lino,  the  horizon ;  hence  no  construction  can  be 

Eerformed  in  it.     The  ground  plnne  on  the  other  hand  is  tho  lowest 
orizoutal  plane  used.     Hence  it  offers  most  space  for  constructions, 
which  consequently  will  allow  of  greater  accuracy. 

§  55.  The  process  is  the  same  if  we  know  tho  coordinates  of  the 
point,  viz.,  we  take  in  the  base  lino  a  point  0  as  origin,  and  wo  take 
the  base  line,  the  lino  OV,  and  tho  perpendicular  OZ  as  axes  ol 
coordinates.  If  wo  then  know  the  coordinates  x,  y,  z  measured  in 
these  directions,  we  make  OQ-x,  set  off  on  QV  a  distance  QA  such 
that  its  real  length  QR-y,  make  QA,-i,  and  find  A  os  before. 
This  process  might  bo  simplified  by  eottinp  off  to  begin  with 
along  OQ  and  OZ  scales  in  their  true  dimensions  and  along  OV  ■ 
seiilo  obtained  by  projecting  the  scale  on  OQ  from  D  to  tho  line 
OV. 

§  66.  The  methods  explained  give  tho  perspective  of  any  point 
in  space.  If  lines  have  to  be  found,  wo  may  determine  the  jwrspeo- 
tivo  of  two  points  in  them  and  join  these,  and  this  is  in  many 
cases  the  most  convenient  process.  Often,  however,  it  will  be 
advantageous  to  determine  tno  projection  of  a  lino  directly  by 
finding  its  vanishing  point.  This  is  especially  to  bo  recommended 
when  a  number  of  parallel  lines  have  to  bo  drawn. 

Tho  perapectivo  of  any  curve  is  in  general  a  curve.  The  pro- 
j^tion  of  a  conia  is  a   conic,  or  in   special  cases  a  line.     The 


806 


P  R  o  —  r  K  o 


perspective  of  a  circle  may  be  any  conic,  not  necessarily  an  ellipse. 
Similarly  the  perspective  of  the  shadow  of  a  cirde  on  a  plane  is 
some  conic. 

§  57.  A  few  words  must  ba  said  about  the  determination  of 
shadows  in  perspective.  The  theory  of  their  construction  is  very 
simple.  We  have  given,  say,  a  figure  and  a  point  L  as  source  of 
light.  "We  join  the  point  L  to  any  point  of  which  we  want  to  Diid 
ttie  shadow  and  produce  this  line  till  it  cuts  the  surface  on  which 
the  shadow  falls.  Tlieneconstructions  must  in  many  cases  first  be 
performed  in  plan  and  elevation,  and  then  the  point  in  the  shadow 
has  to  be  found  in  perspective.  The  constructions  are  different 
according  as  we  take  as  the  source  of'light  a  finite  point  (say,  the 
flame  of  a  lamp),  or  the  sun,  which  we  may  suppose  to  be  at  an 
infinite,  distance. 

If,  for  instance,  in  fig.  23,  A  is  a  source  of  li|ht,  EHGF  a  vertical 
wall,  and  C  a  point  whose  shadow  has  to  be  determined,  then  the 
shadow  must  lie  on  the  line  joining  A  to  C.  To  see  where  this  ray 
meets  the  Hoor  we  draw  through  tlie  source  of  light  and  the  point 
C  a  vertical  plane.  This  will  eui  the  floor  in  a  line  which  contains 
the  feet  A„  C,  of  the  perpendiculars  drawn  from  the  points  A,  C  to 
the  floor,  or  the  plans  of  these  points. .  At  C,  where  the  line  A,C, 
cuts  AC,  will  be  the  shadow  of  C  on  the  floor.  If  the  wall  EHGF 
prevents  the  shadow  from  falling  on  the  Uoor,  we  determine  the 
intersection  K  of  the  line  AjCi  with  the  base  EF  of  the  wall  ami 
draw  a  vertical  through  it,  this  gives  the  intersection  of  the  wall 
with  the  vertical  plane  through  A  and  C.  Where  it  cuts  AC  is  the 
shadow  C"  of  C  on  the  walL 

If  the  shadow  of  a  screen  CDDjCi  has  to  be  found  we  find  the 
shadow  D'  of  D  which  falls  on  the  floor  ;  then  DjD'  is  the  shadow 
of  DjD  and  D'C  is  the\hadow  on  the  floor  of  the  line  DC. 
The  shadow  of  DiD,  however,  is  intercepted  by  the  wail  at  L.  Here 
then  the  wall  takes  up  the  shadow,  which  must  extend  to  D"  as  the 
shadow  of  a  line  on  a  plane  is  a  lino.  Thus  the  shadow  of  the 
screen  is  found  in  the  shaded  part  in  the  figure. 

§  58.  If  the  shadows  are  due  to  the  sun,  we  have  to  find  first  the 
perspective  of  the  sun,  that  is,  the  vanishing  point  of  its  rays.  This 
will  always  be  a  point  in  the  picture  plane ;  but  we  have  to  distin- 
guish between  the  cases  where  the  sun  is  in  the  front  of  the  ]iicture, 
and  so  behind  the  spectator,  or  behind  the  picture  plane,  and  so  in 
front  of  tlie  spectator.  In  the  second  case  only  does  the  vanishing 
point  of  the  rays  of  the  sun  actually  represent  the  sun  itself.  It 
will  be  a  point  above  the  horizon.  In  the  other  case  the  vanishing 
point  of  the  rays  will  lie  below  the  horizon.  It  is  the  point  where 
a  ray  of  the  sun  through  the  centre  of  sight  S  cuts  the  picture  plane, 
or  it  will  be  the  shadow  of  the  eye  on  the  picture.  In  either  case 
the  ray  of  the  sun  through  any  point  is  the  line  joining  the  per- 
spective of  that  point  to  the  vanisliing  point  of  the  sun's  rays. 
But  in  the  one  case  the  shadow  falls  away  frorii  the  vanishing 
point,  in  the  other  it  falls  towards  it.  The  direction  of  the  sun's 
rays  may  be  given  by  the  plan  and  elevation  of  one  ray. 

For  the  construction  of  the  shadow  of  points  it  is  convenient 
fiist  to  draw  a  perpendicular  from  the  point  to  the  ground  and  to 
find  its  shadow  on  the  ground.  But  the  shadows  of  verticals  from 
a  point  at  infinity  will  be  parallel ;  hence  they  have  in  perspective 
a  vanishing  point  Lj  in  the  horizon.  To  find  this  point,  we  draw 
that  vertical  plane  through  the  eye  which  contains  a  ray  of  the 
sun.  This  cuts  the  horizon  in  the  required  point '  Lj  and  the 
picture  plane  in  a  vertical  line  which  contains  the  v.anishing  point 
of  the  sun's  rays  themselves.     Let  then  (fig.  24)  L  be  the  vaaishiug 


FiK.  24. 

point  of  the  sun's  rays,  Lj  be  that  of  their  projection  in  a  horizon- 
tal plane,  and  let  it  be  required  to  find  the  shadow  of  the  vertical 
column  AH.  We  draw  ALi  and  EL ;  they  meet  at  E',  which  is 
the  shadow  of  E.  Similarly  wo  find  the  shadows  of  F,  G,  H. 
Then  E'F'G'H'  will  be  the  shadow  of  the  quadrilateral  EFGH. 
For  the  shadow  of  the  column  itself  we  join  E'  to  A,  &c.,  but  only 
mark  the  outlines  ;  F'B,  the  shadow  of  BF,  does  not  appear  as  snch 
in  the  figure. 

If  the  shadow  of  E  has  to  be  found  when  falling  on  any  other 
•nrface  we  use  the  vertical  plane  through  E,  determine  its  inter- 


section with  the  surface,  and  find  the  point  where  this  intersection 
is  cut  by  tlic  line  EL.     This  will  be  the  rocjuired  sliadow  of  E. 

§  59.  If  the  picture  is  not  to  be  drawn  on  a  vertical  but  on  an- 
other plane — say,  the  ceiling  of  a  room— the  rules  given  have  to  bo 
slighlly  modified.  The  general  principles  will  remain  true.  But 
if  the  picture  is  to  be  on  a  curved  surface  the  constructions  become 
somewhat  more  complicated.  In  the  most  general  case  conceivable 
it  would  be  necessary  to  have  a  representation  in  plan  and  eleva- 
tion of  the  figure  required  and  of  the  surf.ice  on  which  the  pro- 
jection has  to  be  made.  A  number  of  points  might  also  be  found 
by  calculation,  using  coordinate  geometry.  But  into  this  we  do  not 
euter.  As  an  example  we  take  the  case  of  a  panorama,  where  tlie 
surface  is  a  vertical  cylinder  of  revolution,  the  eye  beijig  in  the 
axis.  The  ray  projecting  a  point  A  cuts  the  cylinder  in  two  points 
on  opposite  sides  of  the  eye,  hence  geometrically  speaking  eveiy 
point  has  two  projections  ;  of  these  only  the  one  lying  on  the  half 
ray  from  the  eye  to  the  point  can  be  used  in  the  picture.  But  the 
other  has  sometimes  to  be  used  in  constructions,  as  the  projection 
of  a  line  has  to  pass  through  both.  Parallel  lines  have  two  vanish- 
ing points  which  are  found  bv  drawing  a  line  of  tlie  given  difection 
through  the  eye  ;  it  cuts  the  cylinder  in  the  vanisliing  points 
required.  This  operation  may  bo  performed  by  drawing  on  tlie 
ground  the  plan  of  the  ray  through  the  foot  of  the  a.xis,  and  through 
the  point  where  it  cuts  the  cylinder  a  vertical,  on  which  the  point 
required  must  lie.  Its  height  above  is  easily  found  by  making  a 
drawing  of  a  vertical  section  on  a  reduced  scale. 

Parallel  planes  have  in  the  same  manner  a  vanishing  carve. 
Tills  will  be  for  horizontal  planes  a  horizontal  circle  of  the  heigiit 
of  the  eye  above  the  ground.  For  vertical  planes  it  wiU  be  a  pcir 
of  generators  of  the  cylinder.  For  other  planes  the  vanishing 
curves  will  be  ellipses  having  their  centre  at  the  eye. 

The  projections  of  vertical  lines  will  be  vertical  lines  on  the 
cylinder.  Of  all  other  lines  they  will  be  ellipses  with  the  centre 
at  the  eye.  .  If  the  cylinder  be  developed  into  a  plane,  then  these 
ellipses  will  be  changed  into  curves  of  sines.  Parallel  lines  are 
thus  represented  by  curves  of  sines  which  have  two  points  in 
common.  There  is  no  difficulty  in  making  all  the  constructions  on 
a  small  scale  on  the  drawing  board  and  then  transferring  them  to 
the  cylinder. 

§  60.  A  variety  of  instruments  have  been  proposed  to  facilitate 
perspective  drawings.  If  the  problem  is  to  make  a  drawing  from 
nature  then  a  camera  obscura  or,  better,  Wollaston's  camera  lucida 
may  be  used.  Other  iistrumeuts  are  made  for  the  construction  of 
perspective  drawings.  It  will  often  happen  that  the  vanishing 
point  of  some  direction  which  would  be  very  useful  in  the  construc- 
tion falls  at  a  great  distance  olf  the  paper,  and  various  methods 
have  been  proposed  of  drawing  lines  through  such  a  point  For 
some  of  these  see  Stanley's  Descriptive  Treatise  on  Mathematical 
Draioing  Instruments. 

Literature. — Descriptive  K^omeTj  dates  from  Monge,  whose  G^omArie  Detcrifi' 
tive  appeared  In  1800.  Before  his  time  plans  and  elevations,  especially  of  build- 
ings, had  been  in  u£e,and  rules  had  been  dereloped  to  determine  by  constmct  on 
from  dra^nng^  the  shapes  of  the  stones  required  in  building,  especially  in  ranits 
and  arches.    These  niles  were  reduced  to  a  consistent  method  by  Monge. 

Peispsctive  was  investigated  much  earlier,  as  painters  felt  the  need  of  it.  Its 
beginnings  date  from  the  time  of  the  Greek  matliemalicians,  but  its  modem 
development  from  the  time  of  tlie  Renaissance,  when  the  first  books  on  the  subject 
appeared  in  Italy.  .^Ibrecht  Diirer  also  published  a  treatise  on  it  and  constructed 
a  machine  for  making  perspective  drawings  of  objects.  Of  later  writers  we  meJi- 
tion  in  the  17th  century  Desai-guea,  and  In  the  ISlh  Dr  Brook  Taylor,  wliose 
Linear  Perspective  appeared  fli-st  in  1715  and  Ntw  I^no'ples  of  Linear  Perspective 
in  1719.-  At  present  perspective  is  generally  treated  as  a  special  case  of  pr9jec- 
tion,  and  included  in  books  on  descriptive  geometry. 

For  the  literature  of  projection  in  general,  we  refer  to  the  list  of  books  given 
under  Geometet,  roL  x.  p.  407.  For  descriptive  gcmetry  and  peispective.  see 
Monge,  Oeomitrie  Deicriptive\  Leroy,  Traittde  Oeometrie  Descriptire  ;  Fiedler, 
Dars'.ellertde  Geomeirie;  Gonmerie,  Traiie  <U  Pei'speetire i  Mannheim,  (Hometrie 
Descriptive  (ISSO)  and  Efements  de  la  Oeometrie  Descriptive  (1882);  J,  ■VVoolley. 
descriptive  OeoTnetry  (1356),  which  ts  based  on  Leroy's  work,  and  is  the  only 
scientific  publication  on  the  subject  in  England.  A  number  of  other  poblieations 
with  titles  such  as  *'P)-actical  Geometry"  and  "  Geometiical  Drawing"  contain 
morp  or  less  full  eiplanations  of  the  methods  of  de&ci  iptive  geometry.  These  arc 
based  generally  on  Euclidian  as  opposed  to  projective  geometry,  and  are  there- 
for e  in  their  theoretical  part  more  or  less  unsatisfactory.  We  may  mention  AngeJ, 
Practical  Plane  Oeometry  and  Projection.  »  '0  H.) 

PKOJECTION  OF  THE  SPHERE.     See  Geography. 

PROME,  a  district  in  Pegu  division,  British  Burmah, 
India,  between  '18°  30'  and- 19°  15'  N.  lat.,  and  94°  40' 
and  96°  E.  long.,  containing  an  area  of  2887  square 
miles.  It  occupies  the  whole  breadth  of  the  valley  of  the 
Irawadi,  between  Thayet  district  on  the  north  and  Hen- 
zada  and  Tharawadi  districts  on  the  south,  and  originally 
extended  as  far  as  the  frontier  of  the  province  of  Burmah, 
but  in  1870  Thayet  was  formed  into  an  independent  juris- 
diction. There  are  two  mountain  ranges  in  Prome,  which 
form  respectively  the  eastern  and  western  boundaries.  The 
Arakan  Yoma  extends  along  the  whole  of  the  western 
side,  and  that  portion  of  the  district  lying  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Irawadi  is  broken  up  by  thickly  wooded  spurs 


P  R  0  —  P  R  O 


807 


tnnaing  in  a  soutli-eastcrly  direction,  the  space  for  cultiva- 
tion being  but  limited  and  confined  to  the  parts  adjacent 
to  the  river.  On  the  eastern  side  lies  the  Pegu  Yoma,  and 
north  and  north-edst  of  the  district  its  forest-covered  spurs 
form  numerous  valleys  and  ravines,  the  torrents  from  which 
unite  in  one  large  stream  called  the  Na-wcng  river.  The 
most  important  of  the  plains  lie  in  the  south  and  south- 
west portions  of  Prome,  and  extend  along  the  whole  length 
of  the  railway  that  runs  between  the  towusof  Poungdu  and 
PrOrae  ;  they  are  mostly  under  cultivation,  and  those  in  the 
south  are  watered  by  a  series  of  streams  forming  the  Myit- 
ma-kha  or  upper  portion  of  the  HIaing.  There  are  in 
addition  large  tracts  of  land  covered  by  tree-jungle  which 
are  available  for  cultivation.  The  principal  river  is  the 
Irawadi,  which  intersects  the  district  from  north  to  soutii ; 
next  "in  importance  are  the  Thp^ni  and  its  tributaries  and 
the  Na-weng  system  of  rivcirs.  la  the  hills  near  the 
capital  the  soil  is  of  Tertiary  formation,  and  in  the  plains 
it  is  of  .alluvial  deposit.  The  climate  is  much  drier  than 
other  districts  in  British  Burmah.  The  total  rainfall  in 
1882  was  49-64  inches. 

In  1881  the  population  was  322,312  (161,433  males  and  160,909 
fcmalfs).  Bu(l<lliist3  and  Jains  nuiubcrcil  313,261,  Mnliammedans 
1795,  Hindus  978,  Christians  336,  Aborigines  C818,  and  Parsecs  5. 
Atore  than  two-thirds  of  tlie  population  are  agriculturists.  The 
cliief  towns  are  Prome  (soe  below),  and  Shwedoung  and  Poungde, 
with  12,373  and  6727  inhabitants  respectively.  The  chief  pvoilucts 
are  rice,  teak,  ciitch,  silk,  sugar  cane,  cotton,  tobacco,  ana  sesame 
oil ;  but  tlie  staple  product  is  rice,  which  is  cultivated  mainly  in 
the  Puungde  and  Shwe-doung  townships.  The  total  area  under 
cultivation  in  1882  was  234,222  acres.  One  of  the  most  important 
manufactures  is  silk  ;  others  are  ornamental  boxes,  coarse  brown 
augar,  and  cutch.  The  gross  revenue  of  the  district  in  1882 
amounted  to  about  £92,000,  of  which  over  a  third  was  derived  from 
the  land. 

The  early  history  of  the  onco  flourishing  kingdom  of  Fronie,  like 
that  of  the  other  stntcs  vvliich  now  form  portions  of  the  iirovince 
of  British  Burmah,  is  veiled  in  obscurity.  Fact  and  fable  are  so 
interwoven  that  it  Is  impossible  to  disentangle  the  true  from  the 
false.  After  the  cont^ucst  of  Pegu  in  1758  by  Aloun^-bhura,tho 
founder  of  the  third  and  present  dynasty  of  Ava  kings.  Promo 
remained  a  province  of  the  Buinian  kingdom  till  the  cloec  of  the 
second  Burmese  war  in  1853,  when  the  province  of  Pegu  was 
annexed  to  British  territory. 

PROME,  chief  town  of  the  above  district,  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  Irawadi,  had  a  population  in  1881  of 
28,813  (males  14,982,  females  13,831).  To  the  south 
and  .south-east  the  town  is  closed  in  by  low  pagoda-topped 
hilLs,  on  one  of  which  stands  the  conspicuous  gilded  Shwe 
Tsan-daw.  The  town  was  taken  by  the  British  in  1825 
and  again  in  1852,  on  both  occasions  with  hardly  any 
opposition  from  the  Burmese.  In  1862  it  was  almost 
ehtirely  destroyed  by  fire,  and  was  afterwa.ds  relaid  out 
in  straight  and  broad  streets.  It  was  erected  into  a 
municii)ality  in  1874,  and  since  then  great  improvements 
have  been  made.  Its  principal  manufactures  are  silk 
cloths  and  lacquer  ware. 

PROMETHEUS,  son  of  the  Titan  lapetus  by  the  sea 
nymph  Clymcne,  is  the  chief  "culture  hero,"  and,  in  some 
accounts,  the  Demiurge  of  Greek  mythical  legend.  As  a 
culture-hero  or  inventor  and  teacher  of  the  arts  of  life,  ho 
belongs  to  a  wide  and  well-known  category  of  imaginary 
beings.  Thus  Qat,  Quahtoaht,  Pundjel,  Maui,  loskeha, 
Cagn,  Wainamoinen,  and  an  endless  array  of  others  repre- 
sent the  ideal  and  heroic  first  teachers  of  Melanesians, 
Ahts,  Australian.i,  Maori.s,  Algonquins,  Bushmen,  and 
Finns.  Among  the  lowest  races  the  culture-hero  com- 
monly wears  a  bestial  guise,  is  a  spider  (Melanesia),  an 
eagle  hawk  (Australia),  a  coyote  (north-west  America),  a 
dog  or  raven  (Thlinkcet),  a  manti.s  insect  (Bushman),  and 
BO  forth,  yet  is  endowed  with  human  or  even  superhuman 
qualities,  and  often  shades  off  into  a  permanent  and 
practically  dcathlc.'^s  god.  Prometheus,  on  the  other 
I'Coid,  is  |.)Ui'el/  anthropomorphic.     Ue  is  the  friend  and 


benefactor  of  mankind.  He  defends  them  against  ''.?us, 
who,  in  accordance  with  a  widely  diffused  mythical  thetiry, 
desires  to  destroy  the  human  race  and  supplant  them  with 
a  new  and  better  species,  or  who  simply  revenges  a  trick 
in  which  men  get  the  better  of  him.  The  pedigi'ee  and 
early  exploits  of  Prometheus  are  given  by  Hesiod  (I'keog., 
510-616).  On  a  certain  occasion  gods  and  men  met  at 
Mecone.  The  business  of  the  assembly  was  to  decide 
what  portions  of  slain  animals  the  gods  should  receive  in 
sacrifice.  On  one  side  Prometheus  arranged  the  best  parts 
of  the  ox  covered  with  offal,  on  the  other  the'  bones 
covered  with  fat.  Zeus  was  invited  to  make  his  choice, 
chose  the  fat,,  and  found  only  boVies  beneath.  A  similar 
fable  of  an  original  choice,  in  which  the  chooser  is  beguiled 
by  appearances,  recurs  in  Africa  and  North  America.  The 
native  tribes  adapt  it  to  explain  the  different  modes  of 
life  among  themselves  and  white  men.  In  wrath  at  this 
trick,  according  to  Hesiod,  or  in  other  versions  for  the 
purpose  of  exterminating  the  remnants  of  people  who 
escaped  the  deluge  of  Deucalion,  Zeus  never  bestowed,  or 
later  withdrew,  the  gift  of  fire  In  his  "philanthropic 
feishion,"  Prometheus  stole  fire,  concealed  in  a  hollow 
fennel  stalk  (Hesiod,  Op.  et  Di.),  and  a  fennel  stalk  is 
still  used  in  the  Greek  islands  as  a  means  of  carrying  a 
light  (<■/.  Pliny,  xiii.  22).  According  to  some  legends  he 
gained  the  fire  by  holding  a  rod  close  to  the  sun.  Pro- 
bably the  hollow  fennel  stalk  in  which  fire  was  carried  got 
its  place  in  myth  from  the  very  fact  of  its  common  use. 

We  thus  find  Prometheus  in  the  position  of  the  fire-bringer,  or 
fire-stealer,  and  so  connected  with  a  very  wide  cycle  of  similar 
mythical  benefactors.  Among  the  Murri  of  Gippsland,  to  begin 
with  a  backward  people,  the  fire-stealer  was  a  man,  but  ho  became 
a  bird  Toio-e-ra,  or  fire,  was  in  the  possession  of  two  women  who 
hated  the  blacks.  A  man  who  loved  men  cajoled  the  women,  stole 
fire  when  their  backs  w*6  turned,  and  was  metamorphosed  into 
"a  little  bird  with  a  red  mark  on  its  tail,  which  is  the  mark  of 
fire."  The  fiie-brin"cr  in  Brittany  is  the  golden  or  fire-crested 
wren.  Myths  like  this  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone,  and  at  once 
acciiimt  for  the  possession  of  fire  by  men  and  for  the  marking  of 
certain  animals  regarded  as  fire-bringers.'  In  another  Australinn 
legend  fire  was  stolen  by  the  hawk  from  the  bandicoot,  and  given  to 
men.  In  yet  anotlicr  a  man  held  his  spear  to  tlie  sun,  and  so  got 
a  light.  A  bird  is  fire-biinger  ::n  an  Andaman  island  tale,  and  a 
ghost  in  another  myth  of  the  same  island.'  In  New  Zealand,  Maui 
stole  fire  from  Mauika,  the  lord  of  fire.  Ho  used  a  bird's  inter- 
vention. Among  the  Ahts,  in  North  America,'  fire  was  stolen  by 
animals  from  the  cuttle-fish.  Among  the  Thlinkeets,  Yehl,  tho 
raven-god,  was  tho  fire-stealer.  Among  the  Cahrocs,  the  coyote 
steals  fire  from  "two  old  women."  Among  tho  Arvans  of  India, 
Soma  is  stolen  by  birds,  as  water  is  among  tho  Thlinkeets,  and 
mead  in  the  Edda.''  Fire  concealed  himself,  in  the  Veda,  was 
dragged  from  his  liiding  place  by  Malarijvan,  and  w.is  given  to  the 
priestly  clan  of  Bhrigu.  Wo  also  hear  that  Matarivvan  "  brought 
lire  from  afar  "  {R.  V.,  iii.  9,  B),  and  that  Bhrigu  found  firo  lurk- 
ing in  the  water  {R.  V.,  x.  46,  2).' 

In  considering  the  whole  question,  one  must  beware 
of  the  hasty  analogical  method  of  reasoning  too  common 
among  mythologists.  For  exam'ple,  when  a  bird  is  spoken 
of  as  the  fire-bringer  we  need  not  necessarily  conclude 
that,  in  each  case,  tho  bird  means  lightning.  On  tho  other 
hand,  the  myth  often  exists  to  explain  tho  cause  of  tho  nvark- 
ings  of  certain  actual  species  of  birds.  Again,  bccau.se  a 
hero  is  said  to  have  stolon  or  brought  fire,  we  need  not 
regard  that  hero  as  tho  personification  of  fire,  and  ex[>laiii 
all  his  myth  as  a  fire-myth.  The  legend  of  Prometheus 
has  too  often  been  treated  in  this  fashion,  though  he  is 
really  a  culture  hero,  of  whoso  exploits,  such  as  making 

*  Kor  these  see  Brougli  Smith,  Abori<jities  of  Victoria  ;  Kului,  o» 
bird  firo-briDgcr  in  Islo  of  Mnn,  Dif  Ilerabhin/t  da  Feuers,  p.  109. 

'  Joum,  Anihrnp.  Inst.,  Nov.  1831. 
'  Sproat,  Siiviige  Life 

*  HiiDcroft,  HI.  100;  Ailareya  Brahmand,  it.  03.  'MS:  Kuhn, 
or.  cit.,  144. 

"  Compare  Borgalgho,  La  Heligiqn  Viilique.,  I.  52-66,  and  Knhn's 
llernhkunft  ;  and  aoo  tho  cinays  by  Sieintlial  in  np|iaudix  to  English 
veninii  of  Goldzihcr's  Mj/thnli^^  amoKi/  the  Uebrewi, 


808 


P  R  O  — P  R  G 


men  of  clay,  fire-stealing  is  no  more  than  a  single  example. 
This  tendency  to  evolve  the  whole  myth  of  Prometheus 
from  a  belief  that  he  is  personified  fire,  or  the  fire-god,  has 
been  intensified  by  Kuhn's  ingenious  and  plausible  etymo- 
logy of  the  name  Upoixrjdcv^.  The  Greeks  derived  it  from 
TrpofirjOij^,  "provident,"  and  connected  it  with  such  other 
words  as  Trpop.rjOloixo.L,  irpofn^deia.  They  had  also  the 
proper  name  'E-!nfji.rj9ev<s  for  the  slow-witted  brother  of 
Prometheus  who  turned  all  the  hero's  wisdom  to  foolish- 
ness. Against  these  very  natural  etymologies  the  philo- 
logists support  a  theory  that  Prometheus  is  really  a 
Greek  form  of  pramantha  (Skt.),  the  fire-stick  of  the 
Hindus.  The  process  of  etymological  change,  as  given 
by  Steinthal,  was  this.  The  boring  of  the  perpendicular 
in  the  horizontal  fire-stick,  whereby  fire  was  kindled,  was 
called  manthana,  from  math,  "I  shake."  The  preposition 
pra  wai  prefixed,  and  you  get  pramantha.  But  Matari9- 
van  was  feigned  to  have  brought  Agni,  fire,  and  "  the 
fetching  of  the  god  was  designated  by  the  same  verb 
mathndmi  as  the  proper  earthly  boring  "  of  the  firestick. 
"  Now  this  verb,  especially  when  compounded  with  the 
preposition  pra,  gained  the  signification  to  tear  off,  snatch 
to  oneself,  rob."i  Steinthal  goes  on — "  Thus  the  fetching 
of  Agni  became  a  robbery  of  the  fire,  and  the  pramdtha 
(fire-stick)  a  robber.  The  gods  had  intended,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  to  withhold  fire  from  men ;  a  benefactor 
of  mankind  stole  it  from  the  gods.  This  robbery  was 
called  pramdtha;  pramathyu-s  is  'he  who  loves  boring 
or  robbery,  a  borer  or  robber.'  From  the  latter  words, 
according  to  the  peculiarities  of  Greek  phonology,  is 
formed  UpofirjBev-s,  Prometheus.  He  is  therefore  a  fire- 
god,"  &c.  Few  things  more  ingenious  than  this  have 
ever  been  done  by  philologists.  It  will  be  observed  that 
" forgetf ulness  of  the  meaning  of  words"  is  made  to 
account  for  the  Greek  belief  that  fire  was  stolen  from  the 
gods.  To  recapitulate  the  doctrine  more  succinctly,  men 
originally  said,  in  Sanskrit  (or  some  Aryan  speech  more 
ancient  still),  "  fire  is  got  by  rubbing  or  boring  ;"  nothing 
could  have  been  more  scientific  and  straightforward. 
They  also  said,  "  fire  is  brought  by  Matariqvan  ;"  nothing 
can  be  more  in  accordance  with  the  mythopceic  mode  of 
thought.  Then  the  word  which  means  "  fetched  "  is  con- 
fused with  the  word  which  means  "bored,"  and  gains  the 
sense  of  "  robbed."  Lastly,  fire  is  said  (owing  to  this 
confusion)  to  have  been  stolen,  and  the  term  which 
meant  the  common  savage  fire-stick  is  by  a  process  of 
delusion  conceived  to  represent,  not  a  stick,  but  a  person, 
Prometheus,  who  stole  fire.  Thus  then,  according  to  the 
philologists,  arose  the  myth  that  fire  was  stolen,  a  myth 
which,  we  presume,  would  not  otherwise  have  occurred  to 
Greeks.  Now  we  have  not  to  decide  whether  the  Greeks 
were  right  in  thinking  that  Prometheus  only  meant  "  the 
fore-sighted  wise  man,"  or  whether  the  Germans  know 
better,  and  are  correct  when  they  say  the  name  merely 
meant  "  fire-stick."  But  we  may,  at  least,  point  out  that 
the  myth  of  the  stealing  of  fire  and  of  the  fire-stealer  is 
current  among  races  who  are  not  Aryan,  and  never  heard 
the  word  pramantha.  We  have  shown  that  Thlinkeets, 
Ahts,  Andaman  Islanders,  Australians,  Maoris,  South  Sea 
Islanders,  Cahrocs,  and  others  all  believe  fire  was  origin- 
ally stolen.  Is  it  credible  that,  in  all  their  languages,  the 
name  of  the  fire-stick  should  have  caused  a  confusion  of 
thought  which  ultimately  led  to  the  belief  that  fire  -was 
obtained  originally  by  larceny?  If  such  a  coincidence 
appears  incredible,  we  may  doubt  whether  the  belief  that 
is  common  to  Greeks  and  Cahrocs  and  Ahts  was  pro- 
duced, in  Greek  minds  by  an' etymological  confusion,  in 
Australia,  Am&rica,  and  so  forth  by  some  other  cause. 
What,  then,  is  the  origin  of  the  widely-diffused  myth  that 

'  C/.  Kuhii,  op.  cit.,  pp.  16,  17. 


fire  was  stolen  1  We  offer  a  purely  conjectural  suggestion. 
No  race  is  found  without  fire,  but  certain  races  ^  are  said 
to  have  no  means  of  artificially  reproducing  fire  ;  whether 
this  be  true  or  not,  certainly  even  some  civilized  races 
have  found  the  artificial  reproduction  of  fire  very  tedioiH. 
Thus  we  read  (Od.,  v.  488-493),  "As  when  a  man  hath 
hidden  away  a  brand  in  the  black  embers  at  an  upland 
farm,  one  that-  hath  no  neighbour  nigh,  and  so  saveth  the 
seed  of  fire  that  he  may  not  have  to  seek  a  light  other- 
where, even  so  did  Odysseus  cover  him  with  the  leaves." 
If,  in  the  Homeric  age,  men  found  it  so  hard  to  get  the 
seed  of  fire,  what  must  the  diflSculty  have  been  in  the 
earliest  dawn  of  the  art  of  fire-making  ?  gupi^se,  then, 
that  the  human  groups  of  early  savages  are  hostile.  One 
group  lets  its  fire  go  out,  the  next  thing  to  do  would  be  to 
borrow  a  light  from  the  neighbour,  perhaps  several  miles 
off.  But,  if  the  neighbours  are  hostile,  the  unlucky  group 
is  cut  off  from  fipe,  ic/ni  interdicilur.  The  only  way  to  get 
fire  in  such  a  case  is  to  steal  it.  Men  accustomed  to  such 
a  precarious  condition  might  readily  believe  that  the 
first  possessors  of  fire,  wherever  they  were,  set  a  high 
value  on  it,  and  refused  to  communicate  it  to  others. 
Hence  the  belief  that  fire  was  originally  stolen.  This 
hypothesis  at  least  explains  all  myths  of  fire-stealing  by 
the  natural  needs,  passions,  and  characters  of  men,  "a 
jealous  race,"  whereas  the  philological  theory  explains 
the  Greek  myth  by  an  exceptional  accident  of  changing 
language,  and  leaves  the  other  widely  diffused  myths  of 
fire-stealing  in  the  dark.  It  would  occupy, too  much  space  to 
discuss,  in  the  ethnological  method,  the  rest  of  the  legend 
of  Prometheus,  Like  the  Australian  Pundjel,  and  the 
Maori  Tiki,  he  made  men  of  clay.  He  it  was  who,  when 
Zeus  had  changed  his  wife  into  a  fly,  and  swallowed  her, 
broke  open  tie  god's  head  and  let  out  his  daughter  Athene. 
He  aided  Zeus  iij  the  struggle  with  the  Titans.  He  was 
punished  by  him  ou  some  desolate  hill  (usually  styled  Cau- 
casus) for  fire-stealing,  and  was  finally  released  by  Heracles. 
His  career  may  be  studied  in  Hesiod,  in  the  splendid  Pronietherui 
ViTictus  of  ^schylus,  with  the  scholia,  in  Heyne's  ApoUodorus,  in 
the  excursus  (1)  of  Schiizius  to  the  jEschylean  drama,  and  in  the 
frequently  quoted  work  of  Kuhn.  The  essay  of  Steinthal  may  also 
be  e.tamiued  (Goldziher,  Myth.  Hebr.,  Engl,  transl.,  p.  363-392), 
where  the  amused  student  will  discover  that  "  Moses  is  a  Pra- 
manthas,"  with  much  else  that  is  learned  and  convincing.  See 
also  Mr  Tylor's  Early  Hislary  of  Man;  Mr  Nesfield  in  Calmtla 
Review,  January,  April,  1884;  and  above,  art.  Fiee.  vol.  ix.  p. 
227  s?.  (A.  L.) 

PKONGBUCK.  See  Antelope,  vol.  ii.  p.  102,  and 
Plate  I.  fig.  6. 

PPvONY,  Gaspaed  Claie  FRANgois  Marie  Riche  de 
(1755-1839),  a  celebrated  French  engineer,  was  born  at 
Chamelet,  in  the  department  of  the  Rhone,  22d  July 
1755^  and  was  educated  at  the  Ecole  .des  Fonts  et  Chaus- 
sdes.  His  Memoire  sur  la  poussee  dei  voutes  published  in 
1783,  in  defence  of  the  principles  of  bridge  construction 
introduced  by  his  master  Peronnet,  attracted  special  atten- 
tion. Under  Peronnet  he  was  engaged  in  restoring  the 
fort  of  Dunkirk  in  1785,  and  in  erecting  the  bridge  of 
Louis  XVI.  in  1787.  The  laborious  enterprise  of  drawii^ 
up  the  famous  Tables  du  Cadastre  was  entrusted  to  his 
direction  in  1792,  and  in  1798  he  was  appointed  director 
at  the  Ecole  des  Fonts  et  Chauss^es.  He  was  employed 
by  Napoleon  to  superintend  the  engineering  operations 
both  for  protecting  the  province  of  Ferrara  against  the 
inundations  of  the  Po  and  for  draining  and  improving  the 
Pontine  Marshes.  After  the  Restoration  he  was  likewise 
engaged  in  regulating  the  course  of  the  Rhone,  and  in 
several  other  important  works.  He  was  made  a  baron  io 
1828,  and  a  peer  in  1835.  He  was  also  a  member  of  the 
principal  academies  and  scientific  societies  of  Europe.     Be 

died  at  Lyons  31st  July  1839. 

'  Tylor,  Early  History  of  Man. 


PEOPAGANDA 


809 


PROPAGANDA,  or  Sacred  Congregation  de  Propaganda 
Fide,  is  the  name  given  to  a  commission  of  cardinals 
appointed  for  the  direction  of  tbe  missions  of  the  Roman 
Church.  The  idea  of  forming  such  an  institution  was 
conceived  by  Pope  Gregory  XIII.  and  other  pontiffs, 
but  it  was  Gregory  XV.  (1-G21-1C>23)  who,  after  having 
sought  counsel  from  cardinals  and  information  con- 
cerning the  state  of  religion  in  various  countries  from 
a[)ostolic  nuncios  and  superiors  of  religious  orders,  pub- 
lished, 22nd  July  1622,  the  bull  Inscrutabile  by  which 
lie  founded  the  Congregation  of  Propaganda  and  provided 
means  for  its  continuance.  The  cardinal  vicar  and  the 
cardinal  secretary  of  state  were  amongst  its  first  members. 
Additional  privileges  were  granted  it  by  other  bulls ;  and 
all  the  pontifical  colleges  founded  up  to  that  date  as  well 
as  those  which  should  afterwards  be  founded  for  the 
])ropagation  of  the  faith  were'  declared  subject  to  the 
Propaganda.  The  deliberations  of  this  body,  embracing  a 
!,'reat  variety  of  important  questions,  when  formulated  in 
ilecrees  and  signed  by  the  cardinal  prefect  and  the  secre- 
tary were  declared  by  Urban  VIII.,  in  1634,  to  have  the 
force  of  apostolic  constitutions,  which  should  be  inviolably 
ubserved.  The  cardinal  prefect  is  the  head  of  the  Con- 
L'regation,  and  as  such  governs  the  Catholic  missions  of  the 
world  ;  the  secretary  is  assisted  by  five  subalterns  (minjc- 
tanti),  who  act  as  heads  of  departments,  and  these  again 
are  assisted  by  inferior  employees  (scrit(ori).  The  more 
important  acts  of  the  Congregation,  which  are  discussed  in 
weekly  meetings  by  the  cardinal  prefect  and  the  officials, 
are  submitted  to  the  pope  for  his  supremo  decision.  The 
archives  of  the  institution  were  transferred,  in  1660,  from 
the  Vatican  to  the  Palazzo  Ferrattini  in  the  Piazza  di 
Spagna,  Rome,  which  is  the  seat  of  the  Congregation.  They 
form  a  valuable  collection  of  historical,  ethnographical,, 
and  geographical  dbcumente,  embracing  a  period  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  yeare,  and  serve  as  a  record  of  past 
events  and  of  precedents  to  be  followed  in  decisions  on 
questions  that  may  arise.  The  funds  of  the  institution 
were  supplied  in  the  first  instance  by  Gregory  XV.  and  by 
private  bequests.  Cardinal  Barberini,  brother  of  Urban 
VIII.,  provided  for  eighteen  places  in  perpetuity  for 
students,  Mgr.  Vives  for  ten.  Pope  Innocent  XII.  be- 
queathed to  it  150,000  crowns  in  gold;  Clement  XII. 
gave  it  70,000  crowns.  In  the  second  assembly  of  the 
Congregation  it  was  proposed,  and  accepted  as  a  rule,  that 
prelates  on  being  raised  to  the  dignity  of  cardinal  should 
pay  for  a  ring  offered  them  by  the  pope  a  sum  which  was 
at  first  fixed  at  545  golden  scudi,  and  which  is  now  GOO 
Roman  scudi.  Large  donations  were  made  to  the  Propa- 
ganda by  Catholics  in  England,  Scotland,  Ireland,  the 
United  States,  Spain,  and  Italy.  The  cardinal  prefect 
administers  the  property  of  the  institution  in  the  name 
of  the  Congregation.  To  provide  for  the  affairs  of  the 
Church  of  the  Oriental  Rite,  Pius  IX.,  in  1862,  appointed 
a  special  Congregation  with  its  own  secretary,  consultors, 
iiid  officials. 

The  primary  purpose  of  the  Propaganda  being  to  secure 
laborious  and  pious  missionaries,  colleges  for  their  education 
and  training  were  eistablished.  Chief  amongst  these  is  the 
Propaganda  or  Urban  College  in  Rome,  eo  named  from 
Urban  VIII.  It  is  a  general  missionary  seminary  for  the 
whole  world.  Here  students  are  received  from  all  foreign 
nations,  and  there  are  special  foundations  for  Georgian, 
Persian,  Chaldajan,  Syrian,  Coptic,  P.rahman,  Abyssinian, 
Armenian,  Greek,  and  Chinese  student;),  as  well  as  for 
students  from  England,  Ireland,  America,  and  Australia, 
although  these  last  have  special  colleges  in  Rome.  After 
the  age  of  fourteen  each  student  takes  an  oath  to  servo  the 
missions  during  his  whole  life  in  the  ecclesiastical  province 
or  vicariate  assifrned  to  him  by  the  Congregation,  to  which 


he  must  send  annually  an  account  of  himself  and  of  hia 
work.  •  He  is  maintained  and  clothed  free  of  expense. 
His  studies  embrace  the  full  course  of  Greek,  Latin,  and 
Italian  letters,  some  of  the  chief  Oriental  languages,  as 
Hebrew,  Syriac,  Arabic,  Armenian,  and,  when  necessary, 
Chinese.  There  are  also  schools  for  the  teaching  of 
rational  and  natural  philosophy,  a  complete  course  of 
theology,  and  the  institutions  of  canon  law.  Besides  this 
principal  seminary,  the  Propaganda  has  colleges  dependent 
on  it  both  in  Rome  and  in  other  countries,  under  the 
direction  of  regular  and  secular  priests.  From  its  begin- 
ning it  had  at  its  disposition  national  colleges, — such  as  the 
English,  founded  by  Gregory  XIII. ;  the  Irish,  by  Cardinal 
Ludovisi  in  1628  ;  the  Scotch,  by  Clement  VIII.  in  1600  ; 
the  German  and  Hungarian;  the  American,  of  the  United 
States,  opened  by  Pius  IX.  in  1859;  the  Greek,  founded 
by  Gregory  XIII.;  the  Armenian,  recently  established  by 
Leo  XIII.;  and  the  Bohemian,  opened  4th  November 
1 884.  The  jurisdiction  of  the  Propaganda  extends  over  the 
English  colleges  of  Lisbon  and  Valladolid,  the  Irish  college 
of  Paris,  and  the  American  of  Louvain.  Until  recently 
it  had  the  Chinese  college  of  Naples,  transformed  by  the 
Italian  Government,  and  the  Illyrian  college  of  Loreto,' 
suppressed  by  the  same  Government ;  and  it  still  has  the 
Albanian  pontifical  college  of  Scutari.  Besides  these,  other 
colleges  serve  for  the  education  of  missionaries  for  the  Pro- 
paganda, as  the  college  of  SS.  Peter  and  Paul  in  Rome, 
founded  by  Pius  IX.,  in  Milan  the  seminary  of  St  Calocero 
for  all  foreign  missions,  and  at  Genoa  the  College  Brignole 
Sale  for  Italian  emigrants  to  America.  The  institutions 
at  Verona  for  central  Africa  are  the  support  of  the 
missions  in  the  Soudan..  Chief  of  all  the  seminaries  is 
that  of  Paris  which,  for  two  centuries,  has  supplied 
missionaries  for  India  and  China.  To  these  is  committed 
the  vast  college  of  the  island  of  Pulo  Penang,  where  young 
men  from  China  and  neighbouring  countries  are  trained 
to  the  priesthood.  In  Paris  many  missionaries  are  taken 
from  the  French  seminary  directed  by  the  fathers  of  the 
Congregation  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  go  to  French  colonies. 
At  Lyons  is  the  college  for  African  missions.  In  Belgium 
there  are  the  colleges  of  Foreign  Missions,  of  the  Immaculate 
Conception,  and  of  St  Francis  Xavier  for  Chinese  missions. 
In  Holland  there  was  recently  established  the  college  of 
Stiel,  whose  students  go  to  China.  In  All  Hallows  College, 
Ireland,  the  students  are  educated  for  the  missions  in 
Australia,  Canada,  and  the  Capo  of  Good  Hope.  In 
England  a  seminary  has  grown  up  within  a  few  years 
at  Mill  Hill,  which  has  already  supplied  prrests  to  the 
missions  of  Borneo  and  Madras.  Previous  to  the  late 
changes'  in  Rome,  the  Propaganda  had  dependent  upon  it 
the  college  of  Reformed  Minors  in  S.  Pietro  in  Montorio, 
tho  Carmelites  in  S.  Pancrazio  (suppressed),  the  Minor 
Observants  of  S.  Bartolomeo  all'  Isola  recently  re- 
established, tho  Conventuals  (suppressed),  and  tho  Irish 
Minor  Franciscans  of  St  Isidore.  Outside  of  Rome  there 
were  also  colleges  of  regulars  for  tho  missions,  as  Ocafia  in 
Spain,  Sernacho  in  Portugal,  and  others.  Tho  Propaganda, 
in  the  establishment  of  vicariates  or  new  episcopal  sees, 
has  always  encouraged  tho  formation,  as  soon  as  circum- 
stances would  permit,  of  seminaries  for  tho  education  of  a 
native  clergy,  and  frequently  these  have  flourished,  as  tho 
community  of  tho  "Houses of  God"  (rase  di  Dio)  in  Tong- 
king,  tho  seminaries  of  Sze-chuen,  of  Peking,  and  of  Nanking. 
Tho  first  step  taken  in  a  new  mission  is  tho  erection  of  a 
chapel,  followed  by  tho  opening  of  a  school  and  an  orphan- 
age. As  numbers  increase,  and  moro  priests  come  to  tho 
new  mission,  they  are  united  under  a  superior  invested 
with  special  powers  by  the  Projiaganda — in  fact  a  prefect 
apostolic.  As  churcJies  increa.se  and  tho  faith  spreads,  a 
vicar  apostolic,  who  is  a  bishop  in  partibus,  is  appointed, 

XIX.  102 


810 


r  E  O  P  A  G  A  N  D  A 


and,  if. the  progress  made  requires  it,  the  mission  is  erected 
into  an  episcopal  diocese.  iSuch  has  been  the  method  of 
proceeding  in  the  American  and  Canadian  missions  ;  such, 
in  part,  what  has  happened  in  India,  China,  and  Africa. 
Thiough  these,  whether  prefects  or  vicars  apostolic  or 
bishops,  the  orders  of  the  Propaganda,  which  are  those  of 
the  head  of  the  church,  are  transmitted  to  the  faithful,  and 
they  are  the  ordinary  centres  of  its  correspondence,  although 
it  does  not  disdain  the  reports  furnished  by  the  humblest 
members  of  the  Christian  flock.  The  prelates  furnish  exact 
reports  to  the  Propaganda  of  the  progress  and  circum- 
stances of  the  faith  in  their  various  missions. 

The  material  means  for  the  diffusion  of  the  faith  are 
supplied  in  the  first  place'  by  special  grants  from  the 
revenues  of  the  Propaganda  and  from  various  associations 
in  Europe.  The  greatest  pact  is  furni.shed  by' the  society 
for  the  propagation  of  the  faith  of  Paris  and  Lyons,  This  ■ 
society  is  independent  of  the  Propaganda,  relying  wholly  on 
the  energy  of  the  two  central  councils  of  Paris  and  Lyons  and 
on  the  charity  of  the  faithful,  though  it  attends  to  the  sug- 
gestions of  the  Propaganda,  which  indicates  to  it  the  needs 
of  new  missions.  Contributions  are  also  furnished  by  other 
associations,  as  that  of  the  Holy  Infancy,  or  that  for  the 
education  of  Oriental  nations.  Similar  societies,  occupied 
with  the  support  of  special  missions,  exist  in  Bavaria,  Ger- 
many, and  Austria.  The  Propaganda  likewise  takes  care 
that,  as  soon  as  a  mission  is  estabhshed,  pious  foundations 
are  constituted  by  native  Christians,  and  become  the  local 
property  of  the  church,  and  so  supply  it  with  a  stable  and 
enduring  vitality.  Subscriptions  from  Europe  are  given 
only  to  the  poorer  missions,  which,  however,  are  very 
numerous.  One  of  the  most  powerful  aids  adopted  by 
the  Propaganda  in  the  diffusion  of  the  faith  is  the  print- 
ing-press. The  missionaries  are  required  to  study  the  lan- 
guages of  the  countries  to  which  they  are  sent  and  exhorted 
to  publish  books  in  these  languages.  Printing-presses  are 
introduced  into  new  missions.  In  China,  what  may  be 
described  as  •wooden  stereotypes  are  employed  for  the 
printing  of  Catholic  works  in  the  Chinese  language. 
Early  in  its  career  the  Congregation  of  Propaganda  estab- 
lished at  its  seat  in  Rome  the  celebrated  Polyglott  Print- 
ing Press,  and  gave  it  a  character  of  universality.  There 
people  of  all  nations — the  Copt,  the  Armenian,  the  Arab, 
the  Hebrew,  the  Japanese,  and  the  native  of  Alalabar — 
may  find  books  in  their  native  tongue  and  in  their  special 
type.  Although  great  progress  has  been  made  by  other 
countries  in  polyglott  printing,  the  Propaganda  press  still 
holds  a  high  position. 

The  part  of  the  world  to  which  the  cardinals  of  the 
Congregation  of  Propaganda  first  turned  their  attention 
was  Asia.  In  no  region  of  the  globe  has  Christianity  had 
greater  difficulties  to  struggle'  against  than  in  China.  An 
ancient  tradition  exists,  confirmed  by  documents,  that  in 
the  early  centuries  of  the  Christian  era  Christianity  had 
penetrated  into  and  left  traces  in  China.  It  was  re- 
introduced in  the  13th  century  by  Franciscan  fathers.  It 
flourished  at  Peking  for  a  time,  but  died  oiit  with  the 
Mongolian  dynasty,  and  China  remained  closed  to  Christian 
influences  until  1555,  when  the  Dominican  father  Gaspare 
della  Croce  introduced  it  into  the  province  of  Canton. 
After  he  was  expelled  came  the  Jesuits  Eogeri  and  Eicci. 
They  established  a  residence  there  in  1579,  and  were 
followed  by  Dominicans  and  Franciscans.  These  were 
succeeded  a  century  later  by  the  priests  of  the  Paris 
seminary  of  foreign  missions,  in  the  last  century  by 
Augustinians  and  Lazarists,  and  in  the  present  century 
by  the  missionaries  of  the  seminary  of  St  Calocero  of  Milan. 
Two  bishoprics  were  created  in  1688,  one  at  Nanking,  the 
otlier  at  Peking,  and  the  missions  of  Yun-nan  and  Sze- 
chuen  founded.     At  the  beginning  of  the  ISth  century 


the  number  of  churches  in  the  northern  provinces  reached 
300,  and  of  Christians  300,000.  In  1803  a  college  for 
native  clergy  was  opened  in  Sze-chuen,  and  the  work  of 
the  Holy  Infancy  introduced.  In  1837  the  Portuguese 
patronage  of  Chinese  missions  was  brought  to  an  end, 
with  the  exception  of  that  exercised  over  Macao,  a  Portu- 
guese colony. 

In  1310  B.  Odorico  di  Friuli,  a  FVancisca'n,  entered  Tibet 
and  made  many  converts.  In  1624  Father  D'Andrada 
penetrated  into  the  same  country,  but  was  not  allowed 
to  remain.  Others  followed,  and  were  put  to  death. 
In  1847  the  Propaganda  entrusted  to  the  seminary  of 
foreign  missions  the  task  of  entering  Tibet,  and  in  1857 
a  vicariate  apostolic  was  erected  on  the  frontiers^  In 
Mongolia,  constituted  a  vicariate  apostolic  in  1840,  many 
converts  were  made  and  several  priests  educated  in  the 
seminary  of  Siwang-se.  This  mission  offers  great  hopes. 
It  was  divided  into  three  vicariates  in  1883,  and  13 
entrusted  to  the  Belgian  congregation  of  the  Immaculate 
Heart  of  JIary.  The  Manchuria  mission  was  made  a 
vicariate  in  1839;  in  1854  a  church,  S.  Maria  ad  Nives, 
was  erected,  and  many  other  churches  have  since  been 
built  for  the  increasing  mission.  In  1592  an  attempt  was 
made  to  Christianize  Corea ;  but  repeated  persecutions 
crushed  out  the  germs  of  Christianity.  Its  first  neophyte, 
its  first  native  priest,  its  first  bishops,  and  its  first  European 
missionaries  were  martyrs.  From  1784  to  1789  4000 
Coreans  were  converted,  but  their  number  was  greatly 
reduced  by  persecution.  In  1831  a  vicariate  was  estab- 
lished;  in  1835  the  number  of  Christians  was  6280;  in 
1861  they  reached  18,000;  but  in  1866  persecution  began 
anew.  Christianity  was  introduced  into  Japan  in  1549 
by  S.  Francis  Xavier.  In  less  than  fifty  years  there  were 
in  Japan  a  bishopric,  380  churches,  and  30,000  professing 
Christians.  Persecution  broke  out  in  1601,  and  in  1614 
became  so  fierce  that  the  priests  were  put  to  death  and  the 
people  dispersed.  In  1640  all  Europeans,  missionaries 
included,  were  banished  -from  Japan,  this  proscription 
continuing  for  two  centuries.  Missionaries  were  admitted 
in  1843,  but  so  jealously  watched,  that  little  good  was 
accomplished.  In  1863  a  treaty  was  concluded  between 
the  emperor  of  the  French  and  the  Japanese  Government 
permitting  the  preaching  of  the  gospel.  The  first  church 
was  built  after  a  lapse  of  two  centJries;  the  number  of 
catechumens  soon  reached  10,000;  other  churches  were 
constructed ;  and  the  descendants  of  the  old  Christians, 
who  had  still  preserved  the  faith,  came  fortl^  from  their 
concealment.  A  new  persecution-  broke  out  in  1870 ; 
many  Christians  apostatized ;  a  great  number  died  of 
hunger,  and  many  were  exiled.  Peace  was  established  in 
1873.  The  vicariate  apostolic  was  divided  in  1876  into 
two — -the  northern  and  southern  vicariates.  By  the  treaty 
of  Peking,  concluded  between  the  French  and  Chinese 
Governments,  liberty  of  religion  was  granted  in  the  Chinese 
empire  and  a  new  era  opened.  In  1873,  in  the  eighteen 
provinces  of  the  Chinese  empire,  the  number  of  Catholics 
was  410,644,  with  4054  centres,  1220  churches  and  public 
chapels,  294  bishops  and  missionaries,  252  native  priests, 
137  European  female  religious  and  924  native,  104 
orphanages  with  6853  orphans,  and  947  schools  frequented 
by  10,624  pupils.  In  spite  of  popular  tumults  and  per- 
secutions these  numbers  have  increased  in  late  years. 

In  the  year  of  its  foundation  the  Propaganda  established 
a  .prefecture  apostolic  in  Burmah.  Italian-  Earnabites 
penetrated  into  the  country  in  1721,  and  two  of  them, 
Fathers  Gallizio  and  Nerici,  were  put  to  death.  The 
priests  of  the  seminary  of  foreign  Missions  continue  the 
work,  and  three  vicariates  have  been  established.  !Malacca 
was  visited  by  S.  Francis  Xavier,  and  was  for  a  long  time 
under   the  Portuguese  jurisdiction ;  but  a  vicariate  was 


P  R  O  — P  R  0 


«il 


established  iu  1841  and  entrusted  to  the  Paris  seminary, 
which  has  a  college  in  Penang  for  natives  of  China  and 
neighbouring  countries.  Jesuits,  Dominicans,  and  Fran- 
ciscans brought  the  Catholic  faith  to  Siam  fh  the  16th 
century.  The  first  vicar  apostolic  was  appointed  in  1678. 
A  terrible  persecution  of  Christians,  causing  great  loss,  broke 
out  in  1772,  and  it  was  not  till  1821  that  the  missions 
were  restored.  The  vicariate  was  divided  into  two  in 
1841.  In  the  missions  of  the  Anamite  empire,  comprising 
Tong-king  and  Cochin  China,  and  the  missions  to  Cambodia 
and  to  the  Laos  people,  Christianity  may  be  said  to  have 
bad  its  birth  and  its  growth  in  blood,  so  fierce  and 
numerous  have  the  persecutions  been.  In  the  14th 
century  the  faith  was  introduced  by  Dominicans  and 
Franciscans,  and  the  first  mission  established  in  1550  by 
Gaspare  della  Croce.  The  Jesuits  came  in  1615,  and  in 
1665  the  Propaganda  established  here  the  priests  of  the 
seminary  of  foreign  missions.  A  few  years  later  the 
number  of  Christians  in  the  southern  provinces  of 
Cochin  China  was  17,000,  with  60  chuixhes.  Persecution 
followed  persecution.  The  Dominican  Father  Francesco 
Gil,  after  nine  years'  imprisonment.  Was  martyred  in  1745. 
All  foreigners  were  driven  from  the  kingdom  in  1825,  and 
ia  1826  an  edict  was  issued  against  the  Christians.  What 
seemed  a  war  of  extermination  was  undertaken  in  1833. 
Missionaries  sought  refuge  in  tombs  and  grottos,  whence 
they  issued  by  night  to  administer  the  sacraments.  Mgr. 
Delgado,  vicar  apostolic  of  WesternTong-king,  Mgr.  Henares 
his  coadjutor,  several  Chinese  priests,  Mgr.  Barie,  vicar 
apostolic  of  Eastern  Tong-king  (about  to  be  consecrated 
bishop),  and  an  incredible  number  of  lay  persoas  of  all 
ranks  were  put  to  death.  In  1842  the  cause  of  the 
beatification  and  sanctification  of  the  Anamite  martyrs  was 
introduced  by  the  Sacred  Congregation  of  Rites.  Per.se- 
ontion  was  renewed  in  1844;  the  exiled  missionaries  and' 
prelates  returned,  though  a  price  was  put  upon  their 
heads.  Christianity  was  proscribed  throughout  all  Anam 
in  1848 ;  native  priests  were  exiled,  and  European  clergy 
cast  into  the  sea  or  the  nearest  river.  Nevertheless  the 
vicariate  of  Cambodia  was  founded  in  1850,  and  Eastern 
Cochin  China  was  made  a  separate  vicariate.  A  new  edict 
appeared  in  1851,  again  enjoining  that  European  priests 
should  be  cast  into  the  sea,  and  natives,  unless  they 
trampled  upon  the  cross,  severed  in  two.  The  missionaries 
Schaeffler  and  Bonnard  were  put  to  death ;  the  vicars 
apostolic  perished  of  hunger ;  the  mass  of  Christians  were 
imprisoned  or  exiled.  In  1856  and  1857  whole  Christian 
villages  were  burned  and  their  inhabitants  dispersed.  The 
edict  of  1862  enjoined  that  Christians  should  bo  given  in 
charge  to  pagans,  that  their  villages  should  be  burned 
and  their  property  seized,  and  that  on  one  cheek  should  bo 
branded  the  words  "false  religion."  In  1863  the  number 
of  martyrs  had  reached  forty  thousand,  without  reckoning 
those  driven  into  the  woods,  where  they  perished.  Never- 
theless, the  Anamite  church,  steeped  in  blood,  has  in- 
creased, and  is  regarded  as  the  brightest  gem  of  the 
Propaganda  missions. 

India  is  one  of  the  most  extensive  fields  in  which  the  mis- 
sionaries have  laboured.  Previous  to  the  founding  of  the 
Propaganda  the  Jesuits  had  established  several  mi.'isions  in 
India.  The  introduction  of  vicars  apostolic  consolidated 
the  basis  of  Christianity,  and  now  twenty-tbrco  vicariates 
apostolic  and  a  delegate  apo.stolic  direct  the  spiritual  affairs 
of  this  great  country.  In  Africa,  Catholic  missionaries 
wore  the  first  travellers,  two  centuries  prior  to  Livingstone 
and  Stanley.  The  earliest  mission  was  that  of  Tunis 
(1624).  The  missions  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hopo  were 
entrusted  to  the  clergy  of  Mauritius ;  the  Roformati  and 
the  Observants  went  to  Egypt,  the  Carmelites  to  Mo- 
mmbique  and   Madagascar,  the   Capuchins  and  Jesuits 


to  Ethiopia  and  Abyssinia.  The  spiritual  affairs  of  Africa 
are  directed  by  one  metropolitan  and  thirty-six  bishops, 
vicars,  and  prefects  apostolic.  The  progress  of  CathoUcisra 
in  Australia  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  two  metro- 
politans, those  of  Melbourne  and  Sydney,  with  twelve 
suffragans  direct  its  ecclesiastical  affairs.  AVhile  the 
missionary  field  of  the  Propaganda  embraces  Asia,  Africa, 
Oceania,  and  both  Americas,  as  well  as  England,  Ireland, 
Scotland,  Holland,  Germany,  Norway  and  Sweden,  Iceland, 
Greenland,  Switzerland,  Albania,  Macedonia,  Greece, 
Turkey,  ic.,. perhaps  the  most  splendid  results  of  its  work 
are  to  be  met  with  in  the  United  States  and  in  Canada. 
In  1632  many  Catholics  settled  with  Lord  Baltimore  in 
Maryland.  A  century  and  a  half  later,  in  1789,  they  had 
so  increased  that  the  Congregation  of  Propaganda  withdrew 
them  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the  vicar  apostolic  of  London 
and  formed  a  new  see  in  Baltimore,  comprising  the  territory 
of  the  United  States.  In  1806  the  sees  of  New  York, 
Philadelphia,  Boston,  and  Bardstown  (Louisville)  were 
erected,  and  Baltimore  was  made  the  metropolitan  diocese. 
At  the  end  of  1884  there  were  twelve  metropolitans  and 
seventy-six  bishops  and  vicars  apostolic  in  the  United 
States.  In  1659  5Igr.  Fram^ois  de  Laval  was  the  first 
vicar  apostolic  of  Canada  ;  shortly  afterwards  the  episco- 
pal see  of  Quebec  was  established.  Now  Canada  has  four 
metropolitan  and  sixteen  suffragan  sees. 

riie  Italian  Government,  in  virtue  of  the  laws  relating  to  ecclesi- 
astical property  of  1866,  1867,  and  19tli  June  1873,  sold  the  Villa 
Jlontalto,  Frascati,  belonging  to  the  Propaganda,  and  placed  the 
price  in  the  Italian  funds,  paying'  interest  to  the  Congregation. 
Other  property  of  the  Congregation  having  been  sold,  a  law-suit  was 
entered  upon  and  decided  iu  the  Court  of  Cassation  at  Rome,  31st 
Jlay  18S1,  in  favour  of  the  Propaganda.  Appeal  was  made  to  the 
tribuhal  of  Ancnna,  where,  14th  December  1881,  decision  was  given 
against  the  Propaganda.  Appeal  being  again  made,  the  Court  of 
Cassation  of  Rome  gave  final  judgment,  9tli  February  1884,  against 
the  Propaganda.  This  sentence  empowers.the  Italian  Government 
to  sell  the  landed  or  immovable  property  of  the  Propaganda,  place 
the  proceeds  in  the  Itilian  funds,  and  pay  the  i'lterest  to  the 
Congregation.  Protests  against  this  act  have  been  issued  by  Pope 
Leo  XIII.,  by  Cardinal  Jacobini,  secretary  of  state  to  the  pontijf, 
by  nearly  all  the  Catholic  bishops,  and  by  innumerable  thousandj 
of  lay  Catholics  and  many  Protestants.  (D.  J.) 

PROPERTIUS,  Sextus,  the  greatest  elegiac  poet  of 
Rome,  was  born  of  a  good  Umhrian  family,  who  were  con- 
siderable landed  proprietors  in  the  fair  and  fertile  regiou 
between  Perusia  and  the  river  Clitumnus.  The  seat  of  the 
Propertii  was  at  Asisium  Or  Assisi,  the  birthplace  of  the 
famous  St  Francis  ;  and  here  also  was  Propertius  born. 
The  year  of  his  birth  is  uncertain,  and  it  has  been  vari- 
ously placed  between  57  and  44  b.o.  We  learn  from  one 
passage  of  Ovid  that  Propertius  was  his  senior,  but  also 
his  friend  and  companion  ;  from  another  that  he  was  third 
in  the  sequence  of  elegiac  poets,  following  Gallus,  who  was 
born  in  69  b.o.,  and  Tibuilus,  whoso  birth  has  been  a.ssigned 
to  54  B.C.,  and  immediately  preceding  Ovid  himself,  who,  as 
he  tells  us  elsewhere,  was  born  in  43  B.C.  Wo  shall  not  be 
far  wrong  in  supposing  ho  was  born  about  50  B.C.,  a  date 
which  also  agrees  well  with  the  indications  of  the  pocnid 
themselves.  His  early  life  was  full  of  misfortune.  He 
buried  his  father  bcforo  his  time  ;  and  grief  was  closely 
followed  by  poverty.  After  the  battle  of  Philippi  and  the 
return  of  Octaviun  to  Rome  the  victorious  legions  hud  to  be 
provided  fot;  their  clamorous  need  and  cupidity  could  only 
bo  r.ppcased  by  wholesale  ograrian  confiscation,  and  the 
north  of  Italy  had  to  bo  surrendered.  In  common  with 
his  fellow  poets  Virgil  and  Ilonice,  Propertius  was  de- 
prived o"f  his  estate;  but,  unlike  t-lie.se,  he  had  no  patrons  at 
court,  and  ho  was  reduced  from  opulence  to  comparative  in- 
digence. The  widespread  disaffection  which  these  measures 
provoked  was  turned  to  account  by  Lucius  Antonius,  the 
l)rother  of  the  triumvir,  and  his  wife,  the  notorious  Fulvia. 
The  insurrection  which  is  generally  knowD  aa  the  bellum, 


812 


PROPEPtTIUS 


Pei-usitium  from  its  only  important  incident,  the  fierce  and 
fatal  resistance  of  Perugia,  deprived  the  poet  of  another  of 
his  relations,  who  was  killed  by  brigands  while  making  his 
escape  from  the  lines  of  Octavian.  The  loss  of  his  patri- 
mony, however,  thanks  no  doubt  to  his  mother's  providence, 
did  not  prevent  Propertius  from  receiving  a  superior  educa- 
tion. After  or,  it  may  be,  during-  its  completion  he  and  she 
left  Umbria  for  Rome ;  and  there,  about  the  year  34  B.C., 
he  assumed  the  garb  of  manly  freedom.  .He  was  urged  to 
take  up  a  pleader's  profession  ;  but  the  serious  study  went 
against  the  grain,  and,  like  Ovid,  he  found  in  letters  and 
gallantry  a  more  congenial  pursuit.  Soon  afterwards  he 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Lycinnaj  about  whom  we  know 
little  beyond  the  fact  that  she  subsequently  excited  the 
jealousy  of  Cynthia,  and  was  subjected  to  all  her  powers 
of  persecution  (vexandi).  This  passing  fancy  was  sflc- 
ceeded  by  a  serious  attachment,  the  object  of  which  was 
the  famous  "  Cynthia."  -Her  real  name  was  Hostia,  and  she 
was  a  native  of  Tibur.  She  was  a  courtezan  of  the  superior 
class,  somewhat  older  than  Propertius,  and  seems  to 
have  been  a  woman  of  singular  beauty  and  varied  accom- 
plishments. Her  own  predilections  led  her  to  literature ; 
end  in  her  society  Propertius  found  the  intellectual  sym- 
pathy and  encouragement  which  were  essential  for  the 
development  of  his  powers.  Her  character,  as  depicted  in 
the  poem?,  is  not  an  attractive  one;  but  she  seems  to  have 
entertained  a  genuine  affection  for  her  lover.  The  inti- 
macy began  in  28  and  lasted  till  23  B.C.  -  These  six  years 
must  not,  however,  be  supposed  to  have  been  a  period  of 
unbroken  felicity.  Apart  from  minor  disagreements,  an  in- 
fidelity on  Propertius's  part  excited  the  deepest  resentment 
in  Cynthia;  and  he  was  banished  for  a  year.  The  quarrel 
was  made  up  about  the  beginning  of  25  B.C.;  and  soon  after 
Propertius  published  his  first  book  of  poems  and  inscribed 
it  with  the  name  of  his  mistress.  Its  publication  placed 
him  in  the  first  rank  of  contemporary  poets,  and  amongst 
other  things  procured  him  admission  to  the  literary  circle 
of  Maecenas.  The  intimacy  was  renewed ;  but  the  old 
enchantment  was  lost.  Neither  Cynthia  nor  Propertius 
was  faithful  to  the  other.  The  mutual  ardour  gradually 
cooled ;  motives  of  prudence  and  decorum  urged  the  dis- 
continuance of  the  connexion  ;  and  disillusion  changed  in- 
sensibly to  disgust.  Although  this  separation  might  have 
been  expected  to  be  final,  it  is  not  certain  that  it  was  so. 
It  is  true  that  Cynthia,  whose  health  appears  to  have  been 
weak,  does  not  seem  to  have  survived  the  separation  long. 
But  a  careful  study  of  the  seventh  poem  of  the  last  book,  in 
which  Propertius  gives  an  account  of  a  dream  of  her  which 
he  had  after  her  death,  leads  us  to  the  belief  that  they  were 
once  more  reconciled,  and  that  in  her  last  illness  Cynthia 
left  to  her  former  lover  the  duty  of  carrying  out  her  wishes 
with  regard  to  the  disposal  of  her  effects  and  the  arrange- 
ments of  her  funeral.  Almost  nothing  is  known  of  the 
subsequent  history  of  the  poet.  He  was  certainly  alive  in 
16  B.C.,  as  some  of  the  allusions  in  the  last  book  testify. 
And  there  are  two  passages  in  the  letters  of  the  younger 
Pliny  in  which  he  speaks  of  a  descendant  of  the  poet,  one 
Passennus  Paullus.  Now  in  18  B.C.  Augustus  carried  the 
Lecfes  Julix,  which  offered  inducements  to  marriage  and 
imposed  disabilities  upon  the  celibate.  It  would  seem 
therefore  at  least  a  natural  conclusion  that  Propertius  was 
one  of  the  first  to  comply  with  the  provisions  of  the  law,- 
and  that  he  married  and  had  at  least  one  child,  from  whom 
the  contemporary  of  Pliny  was  descended. 

Propertius  appears  to  have  had  a  large  number  of  friends 
and  acquaintances,  chiefly  literary,  belonging  to  the  circle 
of  Maecenas.  ■.  Amongst  these  may  be  mentioned  Virgil, 
the  epic  poet  Ponticus,  Bassus  (probably  the  iambic  poet 
of  the  name),  and  at  a  later  period  Ovid.  He  does  not 
lee.m  to  have  come  across  Tibullus  ;  and  his  relations  with 


Horace  were  not  particularly  friendly.  Horace  may  have 
regarded  him  as  an  interloper  in  the  favour  of  M:ucenas, 
though  there  is  nothing  in  the  poems  of  Propertius  to 
warrant  the  supposition.  In  person  Propertius  was  pale 
and  thin,  as  was  to  be  expected  in  one  of  a  delicate  and 
even  sickly  constitution.  He  was  very  careful  about  his 
personal  appearance,  and  paid  an  almost  foppish  attention 
to  dress  and  gait.  He  was  of  a  somewhat  voluptuous 
and  self-indulgent  temperament,  which  shrank  from  danger 
and  active  exertion.  He  was  anxiously  sensitive  about 
the  opinion  of  others,  eager  for  their  sympathy  and  re- 
gard, and,  in  general,  impressionable  to  their  influence." 
His  over-emotional  nature  passed  rapidly  from  one  phase 
of. feeling  to  another;  but  the  more  melancholy  moods 
predominated.  A  vein  of  sadness  runs  through  his  poems, 
sometimes  breaking  out  into  querulous  exclamation,  but 
more  frequently  venting  itself  in  gloomy  reflexions  and 
prognostications.  He  had  fits  of  superstition  which  in 
healthier  moments  he  despised.  It  must  be  added  that 
the  native  wea''nes3  of  his  character  was  no  doubt  con- 
siderably increased  by  his  infirm  and  delicate  constitution. 

The  poems  of  Propertius,  as  they  have  come  down  to 
us,  consist  of  four  books  containing  4046  lines  of  elegiac 
verse.  The  unusual  length  of  the  second  one  (1402  lines) 
has  Icdi  Lachmann'  and  other  critics  to  suppose  that  it 
originally  consisted  of  two  books,  and  they  have  placed 
the  beginning  of  the  third  bock  at  ii.  10,  a  poem  addressed 
to  Augustus.  This  theory,  somewhat,  modified,  has  been 
powerfully  advocated  by  Th.  Birt  {Das  Antil-e  Buchwesen, 
pp,  413-426).  He  divides  the  poems  into  two  parts, — a 
single  book  (lib.  i.),  published  separately  and  called 
Cynthia  Monohihlos,  as  in  the  MSS.  and  the  lemma  to 
Martial  (xiv.  189),  and  a  Tetrahihhs  Syntaxis,  a  collec- 
tion of  four  books,  published  together,  consisting  of  the 
remainder  of  his  poems.  If  this  view  is  correct,  the 
greater  part  of  the  first  book  of  the  Synfaxis  must  have 
been  lost,  as  ii.  1-9  only  contain  354  lines.  The  first 
book,  or  Cynthia,  was  published  early  in  the  poet's  literary 
life,  and  may  be  assigned  to  25  B.C.  The  date  of  the 
publication  of  the  rest  is  uncertain,  but  none  of  them  can 
have  been  published  before  24  B.C.,  and  the  last,  at  any 
rate,  was  probably  published  posthumously.  The  subjects 
of  the  poems  are  threefold :. — (1)  amatory  and  personal, 
mostly  regarding  Cynthia — seventy-two  (sixty  Cynthia 
elegies),  of  which  the  last  book  contains  three ;  (2)  poli- 
tical and  social,  on  events  of  the  day — thirteen,  including 
three  in  the  last  book  ;  (3)  historical  and  antiquarian — six, 
of  which  five  are  in  the  last  book. 

The  writings  of  Propertius  are  noted  for  their  difficulty; 
and  this  has  undoubtedly  prejudiced  his  reputation  as  a 
poet.  His  s.tyle  seems  to  unite  every  element  by  which  a 
reader  could  be  deterred.  Not  to  speak  of  the  unequal 
quality  of  his  workmanship,  in  which  curtness  alternates 
with  redundance,  and  carelessness  with  elaboration,  tho 
indistinctness  and  discontinuousness  of  his  thought  is  a 
serious  strain  upon  the  attention.  An  apparently  desul- 
tory sequence  of  ideas,  sudden  and  often  arbitrary  changes 
of  subject,  frequent  vagueness  and  indirectness  of  expres- 
sion, a  peculiar  and  abnormal  Latinity,  a  constant  tend- 
ency to  exaggeration,  and  an  excessive  indulgence  in 
learned  and  literary  allusions, — all  these  are  obstacles 
lying  in  the  way  of  a  study  of  Propertius.  But  those 
who  have  the  will  and  the  patience  to  surmount  them  will 
find  their  trouble  well  repaid.  In  power  and  compass  of 
imagination,  in  freshness  and  vividness  of  conception,  in 
truth  and  originality  of  presentation,  few  Roman  poets 
can  compare  with  him.  If  these  qualities  are  seldom 
eminent  for  long  together,  if  his  flights  are  rarely  steady 
and  sustained,  this  js  matter  for  regret  rather  than  cavil  or 
even  astonishment.     Propertius  was  essentiallj  iacapaWft 


P  R  0  r  E  R  T  I  U  S 


813 


of  self-criticism,  constitutionally  intolerant  of  the  slow 
labour  of  the  file.  His  work  is  ever  best  when  done 
under  the  urgency  of  a  supreme  and  rapid  excitement, 
and  when,  so  to  say,  the  discordant  qualities  of  his  genius 
ire  fused  together  by  the  electric  spark  of  an  immediate 
inspiration.  Two  of  his  merits  seem  to  have  impressed 
the  ancients  themselves.  The  first  is  most  obvious  in  the 
sc-enes  of  quiet  description  and  emotion  i^i  whose  presenta- 
tion he  particularly  excels.  Softness  of  out\ine,  warmth 
>f  colouring,  a  fine  and  almost  voluptuous  feeling  for 
i>eauty  of  every  kind,  and  a  pleading  and  almost  melan- 
choly tenderness — such  were  the  elements  of  the  spell 
which  he  threw' round  the  sympathies  of  his  reader,  and 
which  his  compatriots  expressed  by  the  vague  but  expres- 
sive word  blanditia.  Wis /acundia,  or  command  of  striking 
ind  appropriate  language,  is  more  noticeable  still.  Not 
nly  is  his  vocabulary  very  extensive,  but  his  employ- 
ment of  it  extraordinarily  bold  and  unconventional.  New 
settings  of  use,  idiom,  and  construction  continually  sur- 
prise us,  and,  in  spite  of  occasional  harshness,  secure  for 
his  style  an  unusual  freshness  and  freedom.  His  handling 
f  the  elegiac  couplet,  and  especially  of  its  second  line, 
Reserves  especial  recognition.  It  is  vigorous,  varied,  and 
■ven  picturesque.  In  the  matter  of  the  rhythms,  caesuras, 
ind  elisions  which  it  allows,  the  metrical  treatment  is 
much  more  severe  than  that,  of  Catullus,  whose  elegiacs 
ire  comparatively  rude  and  barbarous;  but  it  is  not 
lound  hand  and  foot,  like  that  of  the  Ovidian  distich,  in 
a  formal  and  conventional  system.  It  only  now  remains 
to  call  attention  to  the  elaborate  symmetry  of  construction 
which  is  observable  in  many  of  his  elegies.  Often  indeed 
the  correspondence  between  different -parts  of  his  poem  is 
so  close  that  critics  have  endeavoured  with  more  or  less 
success  to  divide  them  into  strophes. 

Propertius's  poems  bear  evident  marks  of  the  stu4y  of 
ids  predecessors  both  Greek  and  Latin,  and  of  the  ihflu- 
"-■nce  of  his  contemporaries.  He  tells  us  himself  that 
Callimachus  and  Philetas  were  his  masters,  and  that  it 
was  his  an>bition  to  be  the  Roman  Callimachus.  We  can 
trace  obligations  to  Theocritus,  Apollonius  Rhodius,  and 
other  Alexandrines,  but  above  all  to  Meleager,  and 
imongst  earlier  writers  to  Homer,  Pindar,  .^schylus,  and 
t-hers.  Amongst  Latin  writers  he  had  read  with  more  or 
M  care  the  works  of  Ennius,  Lucretius,  the  dramatists, 
nd  Catullus.  We  find  coincidences  too  close  to  bo  for- 
tuitous between  his  poems  and  those  of  Virgil,  Horace, 
and  Tibullus  his  contemporaries  ;  but  it  is  very  possible 
the  influence  was  reciprocal.  Propertius's  influence  upon 
his  successors  was  considerable.  There  is  not  a  page 
of  Ovid  which  does  not  show  obligations  to  his  poems, 
while  other  writers  made  a  more  modest  use  of  his  stores. 
Among  these  may  bo  mentionsd  Manilius.  Juvenal, 
Martial,  Statins,  Claudian,  Seneca,  and  Apuleius. 

The  works  of  Propcrtius  have  come  down  to  us  in  a  far 
from  perfect  condition.  Some  of  the  poems  have  been 
lost ;  others  are  fragmentary  ;  and  most  are  more  or  less 
disfigured  by  corruptions.  The  manuscrii)ts  on  which  we 
have  to  rely  are  late  and  in  several  cases  interiK)lated  ; 
and  these  circumstances,  combined  with  the  native  diffi- 
culty of  the  poet's  writing,  make  the  task  of  his  restora- 
tion and  interpretation  one  of  peculiar  delicacy  and  diffi- 
culty. 

Donatiis  (or  Suetonius)  in  his  life  of  Virgil,  30  (45),  is  tlip  nuthcv 
rity  for  tlu^  full  nnino  of  Propcrtius.  "  Aurcliua"  and  "Nauta," 
wliich  are  added  in  tlio  MSS.,  are  duo  to  confusion  with  Prudcntius, 
and  acoiTUiit  reading  of  iii.  19,  22  (Miiller),  (ii.  24,  22,  f'almor). — 
On  the  Propcrtii,  see  Mommsen  in  Hermes,  iv.  p.  370  ;  Haupt, 
Opii.ic,  i.  p.  282.  Besides  tlio  Propcrtius  lilitsus  (the  Passennus 
Paullus  of  Pliny),  wo  hear  of  a  C.  Propcrtius  who  was  trinyiivir 
cnpiUiUs  and  proconsul  in  the  time  of  Augustus,  and  a  Propcrtius 
Celer,  a  poor  senator  under  Tiberius.  Jnsrriptions  of  the  Propcrtii 
liaro.boeQ.fouuiUat.Assisi,  ^. . Hcrtzberg, . /')v;). ,  i.  pp.   10-12. 


Propcrtius  tells  u.s  himself  that  his  family  was  not  "  nohle,"  iii.  32 
(ii.  34),  55,  6,  and  iii.  19,  I.e. — Jlevania  (Bevogna)  and  Hispellnm 
I  (Spello)  have  been  put  forward  as  the  birth-place  of  Propertius,  but 
the  poet's  own  expressions  are  decisive  for  Asisium.     Apart  from  the 
question  of  reading  in  v.  (iv.)  1,  125  (MSS.  Asis.),  the  climbing  walls 
of  his  town  (scaudcntes  arces,  scandens  murus,  v.  (iv.),  1,  65  and 
I.e.),  its  nearness  to  Perugia,  and  its  position  close  above  the  plain 
(i.  22,  9,  10)  are  altogether  unsuitable  to  Spello  and  Bevagna. — Ovid 
thus  assigns  Propcrtius  his  place : — successor  fuit  hie  (Tibullus), 
tibi,  Galle  :  Propertucs  illi  (Tibullus) ;  quartus  ab  his  serie  temporis 
ipsefui  {Tr.,  iv.  10,  53,  54) ;  and  again  {ib.,  ii.  467),  his  (to  Tibullus 
and  Propertius)  ego  successi.     For  Ovid's  friendship  with  Propertius 
see  below. — v.  1,  121  sq.  is  the  chief  authority  for  the  earlier  events 
of  his  life.     For  the  premature  death  of  his  father  and  the  lo3.s  of 
his   property,  see  127  sq. : — ossaque  legisti  non  ilia  aetate  legenda 
patris  et  in  tenues  cogeris  ipse  Lares,  nam  tibi  cum  multi  uersa- 
rent   rura   iuuenci   abstulit  excultas   pertica  tristis   opes.      Else- 
where he  says  that  he  is  non  ita  diucs  (iii.  19  (22),  I.e.),  and  that 
he  had  nulla   domi  fortuna  relicta,  iii.    32,  55,  I.e.     Indirect  evi- 
dence, such  as  his  living  on  the  Esquiline,  iv.  (iii.),  23,  24,  points 
to  a  competence.    For  the  death  of  his  kinsman,  generally  snpposed 
to  be  the  Gallus  of  i.  21,  see  i.  22,  6-8.     Propertius's  mother  is 
mentioned  in  ii.  8,  39  ;  iii.  13,  15;  and  in  very  affectionate  terms 
in  i.  11,  21.     She  was  dead  when  iii.  13  (11)  was  written,  i.e.,  six 
months  after  the  publication  of  the  first  book.     For  the  quality  of 
Propertius's  educatioji,  the  poems  themselves  are  the  only,  but  a 
sufficient,  testimony. — For  Lycinna  see  iv.  14  (iii.  15),  3-10,  43. — • 
Cynthia,  or  Hostia  (Apul.,  Apol.,  p.  415)  of  Tibur  (v.  (iv.),  7,  85), 
was  the  granddaughter  (iv.  19  (iii.  20),  8)  of  L.  Hostius,  who  wrote 
a  poem  on  the  Illyrian  war  of  178  B.C.,  of  which  some  fragments  are 
preserved.     She  was  much  elder  than  Propertius  (iiL   10   (ii.  18), 
20).     That  she  was  a  merctrix  is  clear  from  many  indications — her 
accomplishments,  her  house  in  the  Subura,  the  occurrence  of  scenes 
like  those  in  i.   3,  iii.   27  (ii.  29),  the  fact  that   Propertius  could 
not  marry  her,  &c.     For  descriptions  of   her  beauty  see  iL   2,  5 
sq.,  and  3,  9  sq.;  iii.  3  (ii.  13),  23,  24  ;  her  poetry,  ii.  3,  21  ;  and 
other  accomplishments,  i.  2,  27  sp.,  iv.  19  (20),   7,  8.     In  chan- 
actcr  she  was  fickle  (i.   15,  ii.   6,  ic),  greedy  (iii.  8  (ii.  16),  Jl, 
12,  Cynthia  non  sequitur  fasces,  nee  curat  honorcs:  semper  ama- 
toruni   ponderat  una   sinus),  and  fond   of  finery  (ii.   3,   15,    16); 
her  temper  was  violent,  iv.  7  (iii.  8),  &c.,  and  led  her  to  slander 
those  who  had  offended  her  (i.  4,  18  sq.,  &c). — For  the  five  years, 
see  iv.  (iii.)  25,  3,  quinque  tibi  potui  seruire  fideliter  annos  ;  and 
for  the  year  of  separation,  iv.  15,  11  (iii.  16),  9,  peccaram  semel, 
et  totum  sum  pulsus  in  annum.     The  second  separation  is  vouched 
for  by    the   two   last   elegies   of  book   iv.      The   evidence  which 
V.   (iv.)  7  furnishes  in  favour   of  a  reconciliation  is  analysed  by 
Postgate  (Prop.,   Introd.,  p.  xxv.  sq.).^v.  6  commemorates  the 
celebration  of  the  ludi  quinquennaUs,   and  v.   11,  66  alludes  to 
the   consulship  of  P.   Scipio  in   16   B.C.     For  Passennus  PaulUis 
(or   as    an    Assist   inscription    calls    him    C.    Passennus    Sergius 
Paullus    Propertius  Bloesus),  see  Pliny  {Ep. ,'yi.    15),  municeps 
Propcrti    atque    etiam   inter  maiores   Propertium    numeral;  (9, 
22),   in   litterfc  uetcres  aemulatur   exprimit  reddit :    Propertium 
in   primis   a   quo  genus  ducit,   ncra  soboles  eoque  simillima   ill 
in  quo  illc  praccipuus,  si  elegos  eius  in  mnnum  sumpseris,  leges 
opus  tcrsum  moUe  iucundum  ct  piano  in  Properti  domo  scriptum. 
— ii.   1  and   iv.   (iii.)  9  are  addressed   to  M«cenas,  iii.   1  (li.  10) 
to  Augustus.     Virgil  is  spoken  of  in  the  highest  terms  in  iii.  32 
(ii.  34),  61  sq.     Other  poems  are  addressed  to  Ponticus  (i.  7,  9), 
Bassus  (i.  4),  Lynccus  a  tragic  poet  (iii.   32,  ii.  34).     Volpi  cou- 
jccturod   (in  his  edition  of  Propertius,  i.  pp.   xt.  sq.)  that  the 
inquisitive   fellow  of  Horace,  Sat.,  i.   9;   but   the   conjecture   is 
generally  rejected  on  grounds  of  chronology.     It  has  recently  been 
re-discussed  and   rejected   by  Prof.   A.   Palmer  in   his  edition  o( 
Horace's  Satires,  i.  9   (notes),  p.   219.     In   £p.  ii.  87  sq.,  how- 
ever,  Horace  seems  to  make  a  direct  attack   on  Propertius. — ^^On 
Propertius's  personal  appearance,  seo  i.  1,  22,  5,  21  ;  pallorem  nos- 
trum .  .  .   cur  sim  toto  corporo  nuUus  ego.     A  likeness  of  him  has 
possibly  been  preserved  in  a  double  Hermes  in  the  Villa  Albani  and 
the  Vatican,  which  represents  a  young  beardless  Koman,  of  a  nervous 
and  somewhat  sickly  appearance,  in  combination  with  a  Greek  poet, 
possibly  Callimachus  or   Philetas  (Visconti,  Iconogrnph.  Hoviana, 
plato  14,  3,  4  ;  seo  E.   Brizio,  Anna!.,  dell'  inst.  areh.,  1873,  106  ; 
C.   Robert,  Arch.  Zeit.,  38,  35,  cited  by  TeufTel).     Ill   health  is 
proved,  as  well  by  tho  specific  allusion  of  i.  16  as  by  the  frequent 
references  to  death  and  burial — i.   19;  ii.  1,  71  sq.  ;  iii.  6,  1   (ii. 
13,  17)  sq.     For  his  care  about  dress  and  the  like,  see  ii.  i,  15,  16, 
(5,  6),  nequiquam  perlusa  mcis  ungiienta  capillis  ibat  ct  cxponso 
planta  inorati.  gradu.     His   character   is   mirrored  in  his' poems. 
In  particular  it  has  bad  a  great  deal  to  do  in  moulding  his  vocabu- 
lary (Postgate,   Introd.,  p.  xxxvi,  sq.).     For  want  of  courage  and 
energy,  especially,  boo  ii.  7,   14  ;   iii.  12  (ii.   19),   17-24  ;   and  for 
superstitious   Icaninp   iii.    23   (ii.    27)  ;   ii.    4,    15,  (2.S)  ;   v.  (iv.) 
6,  9,  sq. — The  numbering  of  tho  books  is  one  of  the  most  vexed 
question.s  of  Propertius  ;  but  it  is  not  unlikely  that  Birt'e  conclu- 
sions will  bo  ultimateljr^ accepted.     Tlic  dates  of  the  several  poenia 


814 


P  R  O  —  P  R  O 


are,  where  ktiowo,  somo  guide  towards  determining  that  of  the 
hooks  :  i.  8  seems  to  have  been  written- about  27  B.C.  ;  i.  6  not 
before  27  B.O.  ;  ii  1  in  25  B.C.  ;  i.  8  after  27  B.C.  ;  iii.  1  (ii-  10) 
in  24  B.C.  ;  29,  "31,  end  of  28;  32  not  before  28  B.C.';  iv.  (iii.) 
17  (18)  iu  or  after  23  B.C.  ;  so  3  (4),  4  (5),  11  (12),  but  20  about 
28  B.C.  j  V.  (ir. )  6,  11  not  before  16  B.C. ;  3  in  23  B.C.  For  the 
evidence  for  believing  book  v.  to  be, posthumous  see  Postdate,  pp. 
liv.,  Iv. — It  is  beyond  our  limits  to  discuss  the  style  and  idiom  of 
Propei-tias  in  full.  For  details  see  Hertzberg,  Introduction,  pp. 
47,  sq. ;  Postgate,  Introduction,  pp.  IviL  sj.  (literary  style), 
Ixxxviii.  sg.  (grammar  and  vocabulary),  cfxyi.  sq.  for  metre  and 
prosody ;  also  L.  HUUei-'s  Introduction,  pp.  xlviii.  sq.  For  ancient 
references  to  Propertius  as  a  writer  see  Quint,  x.  1,  93,  where  it 
is  stated  that  some  (not  Quintiliau)  preferred  him  to  TibuUus,  Ov., 
4.  A.,  iii.  S33,  Tr.,  iii.  465  (blandus  P.),  y.  1,  17  (blandus),  Mart., 
xiv.  189  (facundus  P.),  viii.  73,  Pliny,  I.e.  above,  Stat,  Silv.,  i.  2, 
253,  Vnibro  Propertius  antro. — Prop.,  iii.  (iv.)  1,  Callimachi  Manes 
ct  Coi  sacra  Pliiletae,  iu  iiestrum,  quaeso,  me  sinite  ire  nemus  ; 
V.  (iv.)  1,  64,  Vnibria  Komini  jiatria  Callimachi.  But,  as  is  well 
pointed  out  by'  Teuffel  in  his  History  of  Roman  Lilerature,  Pro- 
pertius's  debt  to  CalUmachus  and  Philetas  is  cliiefly  a  formal  one. 
Kven  into  his  mj^tliological  learning  he  breathes  a  life  to  which 
those  dry  scholars  were  complete  strangers. — For  a  summary  ac- 
count of  his  relations  to  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries  see 
Postgate,  Introd.  ch.  v.  Coincidences  with  Horace  are  quoted  in 
reutfel.  {§  246,  2) ;  with  Catullus,  M.  Magnus,  Flechciseus  Jalir- 
hiichcr,  115,  p.  418;  with  Tibullus,  A.  Zingerle,  Ovid's  Vcrhdltniss, 
kc,  i.  55,  68,  101,  kc.  ;  with  Virgil,  Nettleship,  Ancient  Lives  o/ 
Fcrgtl,  p.  63,  64. 

Tliere  Is  no  exis'ine  MS  of  Propertnts  older  tliin  tlio  14th  centuiy.  Up  till 
the  pu1)!lcatlon  of  Biilirens's  edition  (1S80),  the  Neapolimnus  (X.,  now  often  called 
the  Guelfeibytanus)  was  reKarat-a  as  the  best,  Bahrcns,  however,  maintained 
its  worthlessness  as  compared  with  the  conciirrenre  of  four  other  JISS.  of  his  own 
eoUaling :— Vossianus,  circa  1360  (A)  ;  Laaientianus,  beginning  of  15th  centnry 
(F.);  Ottoboniano-Vaticanus,  end  of  I4th  centiu-y  (V.) ;  Daventriensis,  1410-20 
(D.).  Bahrens's  attack  upon  the  Neapolitan  was  answered  by  H.  Leo  iRh.  Mu^., 
XXJ.I.  431),  Ellis  (Amer.  Jovrn.  Phil.,  1.389),  Palmer  (nermathcna.  iv,  48-72).  The 
contending  merits  of  these  MSS.  have  been  e.-tarained  by  Solbisky  (Coiam.  Phil. 
Jeneiisfs,  ii.  18S3)  with  con^ideiable  care,  end  his  conclusions  as  to  the  independ- 
ent value  both  of  N.  and  the  consensus  of  D.  V.  are  likely  to  be  accepted. 

The  editio  princeps  of  Pi-opertius  is  that  of  1472,  Venice.  Amonc  the  chief 
editions  may  be  mentioned  the  following,  those  with  notes  beinc  marked  with  an 
asterisk  :— 'Scaliser  (li77,  Ac.),  *Broukiiusiua  (2d  ed.,  1577),  "Passeratius  (1608) 
•Vulpius  (1755.  2  vols),  'P.  Burmann  (and  Santcn)  (1780),  'Lachmann  (1S16;  te.\t 
only,  1S29),  -Jacob  (IS27),Hertzbere  (1843-45,  2  vols.),  'F.  A.  Palev(2d  ed.,  1872), 
L.  MUller  0870),  Haupt-Vahlen  (1879),  Bahrens  (1880),  A.  Palmer  (1880):  selec- 
lions,  with  introduction,  Postgate  (1831).  Those  of  MuUer  and  Palmer  are  the 
editions  cited  ihroughout  this  article.  It  is  impossible  to  cite  the  numerous  pro- 
crams,  disjcrt^tions.  papers,  &c.,  which  have  been  published  on  subjects  con- 
nected with  Propertius.  For  tuller  bibliographies  it  is  sufficient  to  refer  to 
Hertzberg,  Prop.,  i.  pp.  248-511;  Engelmann's  Bibliotheca  Scriplorum  Latinorum 
(ed.  Preuss.  1882)  ;  J.  E.  B.  Jfayor's  Bibliographical  Clue  to  Latin  Literature 
(1875);  W.  Teuffel,  OeschicMe  d.  Rom.  Lilleralur  (2d  ed.,  1882;  Eng.  trans.,  1ST3; 
«ec.  84«  gives  on  excellent  account  of  Propertius);  Panly,  Real-Eiicydopadie, 
j.r.  "  Propertius."'  Reviews  of  recent  Propertian  literature  are  given  in  Bursian's 
JaliresbericU  (1873),  pp.  1447-54  (very  meagie),  and  in  the  Trans.  Camb.  Philol. 
Soc..  1880  (i.  372-86),  lSSl-82  (ii.  22C-36). 

The  following  translations  into  English  verse  are  Imoiro:— G.  F.  Kott,  Book  i. 
(published  anonymously.  1872);  C.  A.  Elton,  selections  in  bis  ^rimenso/  tlir 
Classic  Poets,  vol.  ii.  p.  215  sg.  (1814.  reprinted  along  nith  the  preceding  and  a 
prose  version  by  P.  J.  F.  Gantillon,  in  Bohn's  .series,  1848,  1883);  C.  R.  Moore 
(London,  1870);  J.  Cransloun  (Edinburgh,  1875);  F.A.  Paley,  verse  translations 
from  Bonk  v.  with  notes  (  1866)  ;  also  a  few  translations  by  Gray  (the  poet)  first 
printed  in  Gosse's  edition,  vol.  i.  (1884).  (j.  p.  p.) 

PROPHET  (Trpot^jyxr;?)  is  a  word  taken  from  the  voca- 
bulary of  ancient  Greek  religion,  wliich  passeci  into  the 
language  of  Christianity  and  so  into  the  modern  tongues 
of  Europe,  because  it  was  adopted  by  the  Hellenistic  Jews 
as  the  rendering  of  the  Hebrew  k>3j  (nabi,  pi.  nebtim). 
The  word  therefore  as  in'e  use  it  is  meant  to  convey  an 
idea  which  belongs  to  Hebrew  and  not  to  Hellenic  belief ; 
but  when  it  first  underwent  this  change  of  application  the 
age  of  the  nebum  wa^  long  past,  and  the  Jews  themselves 
had  a  very  imperfect  conception  of  what  they  had  been  and 
done.  Hence  in  actual  usage  the  idea  conveyed  by  the 
word  prophet  has  never  quite  corresponded  with  its  his- 
torical prototj'pe ;  the  prophets  of  early  Christendom,  for 
example,  are  not  by  any  means  exact  counterparts  of 
the  Old-Testament  prophets,  and  in  general  very  various 
ideas  have  prevailed  as  to  what  a  prophet  is  or  should 
be,  because  up  to  quite  a  recent  date  the  work  of  the 
Hebrew  prophets  has  been  habituaUy  approached  not  in 
a  purely  historical  spirit  but  under  the  infli  jnce  of  pre- 
conceived ideas.i 

•  It  does  not  appear  that  the  original  Hellenic  associations  of  the 
word  have  had  any  sensible  effect  on  these  ideas.  According  to  Plato 
(Timaus,  p.  72)  the  name  icpotp^Trii  ought  properly  to' be  confined  to 
the  iDteroreters  employed  to  put  an  intelligible  sense  oo  the  dreamSj 


In  the  present  article  no  attempt  will  be  made  to  follow 
those  speculations  about  the  nature  of  prophecy  which 
belong  to  dogmatic  theology  rather  than  to  history  ;  but 
a  brief  sketch  will  be  given.  (1)  of  the  history  of  Hebrew 
prophecy  (in  supplement  to  what  has  been  already  said  in' 
the  article  Israel  or  is  to  be  found  in  the  articles  devoted 
to  individual  prophets),  and  (2)  of  prophecy  in  the  early 
Christian  Church.  To  speak  of  more  recent  religious 
phenomena  within  Christendom  which  have  claimed  to  be 
prophetic  would  carry  us  too  far ;  for  them  the  reader 
is  referred  to  such  articles  as  Moxtaxism,  Anabaptists. 
The  conception  of  prophecy  on  which  the  Mohammedan 
religion  is  budt  has  been  sufficiently  explained  in  the  life 
of  Jloharamed ;  borrowed,  somewhat  unintelligently,  from 
later  Judaism,  it  is  radically  different  from  that  of  the 
Old  Testament,  and  when  narrowly  looked  at  lends  no 
countenance  to  the  statement  often  made,  and  at  first  sight 
plausible,  that  prophecy  is  a  phenomenon  characteristic  of 
Semitic  religion  in  general. 

1.  The  Prophets  of  the  Old  Testament. — The  author  of 
1  Sam.  ix.  9  tells  us  that  "  beforetime  in  Israel,  when  a 
man  went  to  inquire  of  God,  thus  he  spake.  Come  and  let 
us  go-  to  the  seer ;  for  he  that  is  now  called  a  prophet 
(ndbi)  was  beforetime  called  a  seer."  This  remark  is 
introduced  to  explain  how  his  contemporaries  spoke  of 
Samuel.  He  w-as  a  "  seer  "  (ver.  11),  or,  as  he  is  also  called 
(ver.  6  sq.),  a  "  man  of  God,"  that  is  one  who  stood  in 
closer  relations  to  God  than  ordinary  men  ;  "  all  that  he 
said  was  sure  to  come  to  pass,"  so  that  ha  could  be 
consulted  with  advantage  even  in  private  matters  like  the 
loss  of  the  asses  of  Kish.  The  narrative  of  1  Sam.  ix.  is 
so  vivid  and  exact  that  not  many  generations  of  oral 
tradition  can  have  separated  the  writer  from  the  events  he 
records ;  it  shows  us  therefore,  at  least  broadly,  what  the 
word  prophet  meant  in  the  early  times  of  the  Hebrew 
kingdom,  and  it  shows  us  that  it  had  acquired  that 
meaning  after  the  age  of  Philistine  oppression  in  whi<;h 
Samuel  lived,  ancl  to  which  his  younger  contemporaries 
Saul  and  David  put  an  end.  That  this  is  the  sense  of  the 
author,  and  that  we  must  not  suppose  that  the  word 
prophet  had  merely  become  more  common  in  his  time  and 
supplanted  an  older  synonym,  appears  beyond  question  a 
few  verses  further  down,  where  we  see  that  there  were 
already  in  Samuel's  time  people  known  as  nebllm,  but  that 
they  were  not  seers.  The  eeer,  with  his  exceptional 
insight,  is  a  man  of  prominent  individuality  and  held  in 
great  respect  :  when  Said  asks  for  the  seer  every  one  knows 
that  there  is  only  one  person  in  the  town  whom  he  can 
mean.  With  the  prophets  it  is  quite  otherwise ;  they 
appear  not  individually  but  in  bands ;  their  prophesying  is 
a  united  exercise  accompanied  by  music,  and  seemingly 
dance-music  j  it  is'mai'ked  by  strong  excitement,  which 
sometimes  acts  contagiously,  and  may  be  so  powerful  that 

visions,  or  enigmatic  utterances  of  the  frenzied  juai/ris.  But  in  ordinary 
Greek  usage  the  prophet  of  any  god  is  in  general  any  human  instru- 
ment through  whom  the  god  decl.tres  himself;  aud  the  tendency  waa 
"  to  reserve  the  name  for  unconscious  interpreters  of  the  divine  thought, 
and  fur  the  ministers  of  the  oracles  in  genei'al "  <Bouche-LecIercq, 
Hist,  de  la  Divination  [1880],  ii.  11).  This  prob.ibly  facilitated  the 
adoption  of  the  term  by  the  Hellenists  of  Alexandria,  for,  when  Philo 
distinguishes  the  prophet  fi'oni  the  spurious  diviner  by  saying  that  the 
latter  apj^ies  his  own  inferences  to  omeus  aud  the  like  wiiile  the  trnd 
prophet,  rapt  in  ecstasy,  speaks  nothing  of  his  own,  but  simply  repeats 
what  is  £ivett  to  him  by  a  revelation  in  which  his  re.ison  has  no  paii 
(ed.  Mangey,  ii.  321  sq.,  S43  ;  coiiijx  i.  510  sq.),  he  follows  the  pre ra- 
lent  notion  of  the  later  Jews,  at  least  in  so  f.ir  as  he  makes  the  function 
of  the  prophet  that  of  purely  mechanical  reproduction  ;  coinp.ire  Jolm 
xi.  51,  and  the  whole  view  of  revelation  presuj.posed  iu  the  Apo- 
calyptic literature.  Bnt  in  any  case  the  Greek  language  hardly 
offered  another  word  for  an  organ  of  revelation  so  colourless  as 
TrpotpTiTT]s,  "while  the  condition  of  etymology  among  the  ancients  made 
it  possible  to  interpret  it  as  laving  a  special  refereiio;  to  yrediiAioU 
(so  Eusebius,  i)««.^».,  Ttideririn^it  tiom  ir^o^afi'a'}'' 


PROPHET 


815 


he  who  is  seized  by  it  is  unable  to  staiid,^  and,  though  this 
condition  is  regarded  as  produced  by  a  divine  afflatus,  it  is 
matter  of  ironical  comment  when  a  prominent  man  like 
Saul  is  found  to  be  thus  affected.  Samuel  in  his  later  days 
appears  presiding  over  the  exercises  of  a  group  of  nebtim 
at  Bamah,  where  they '  seem  to  have  had  a  sort  of 
coenobium  (Naioth),  but  he  was  not  himself  a  nabt — that 
name  is  never  applied  to  him  except  in  1  Sam.  iii.  21, 
where  it  is  plainly  used  in  the  later  sense  for  the  idea 
which  in  Samuel's  own  time  was  expressed  by  "seer."^ 

But  again  the  nebttm  seem  to  have  been  a  new  thing  in 
Israel  in  the  days  of  Samuel.  Seers  there  had  been  of  old 
as  in  other  primitive  nations ;  of  the  two  Hebrew  words 
literally  ■  corresponding  to  our  seer,  roeh  and  h6zeh,  the 
second  is  found  also  in  Arabic,  and  seems  to  belong  to  the 
primitive  Semitic  vocabulary.^  But  the  enthusiastic 
bands  of  prophets  are  nowhere  mentioned  before  the  time 
of  Samuel;  and  in  the  whole  previous  history  the  word 
prophet  occurs  very  rarely,  never  in  the  very  oldest  nar- 
ratives, and  always  in  that  sense  which  we  know  to  be 
later  than  the  age  of  Samuel,  so  that  the  use  of  the  term 
is  due  to  writers  of  the  age  of  the  kings,  who  spoke  of 
ancient  things  in  the  language  of  their  own  day.  The 
appearance  of  the  nebttm  in  the  time  of  Samuel  was,  it 
would  seem,  as  has  been  explained  in  the  article  Israel, 
one  manifestation  of  the  deep  pulse  of  suppressed  indignant 
patriotism  which  began  to  beat  in  the  hearts  of  the  nation 
in  the  ago  of  Philistine  oppression,  and  this  fact  explains 
the  influence  of  the  movement  on  Saul  and  the  interest 
taken  in  it  by  Samuel.  The  ordinary  life  of  ancient  Israel 
gave  little  room  for  high-strung  religibus  feeling,  and  the 
common  acts  of  worship  coincided  with  the  annual  harvest 
and  vintage  feasts  or  similar  occasions  of  natural  gladness, 
with  which  no  strain  of  abnormal  enthusiasm  could  well  be 
combined.  It  was  perhaps  only  in  time  of  war,  when  he 
felt  himself  to  be  fighting  the  battles  of  Jehovah,  that  the 
Hebrew  was  stirred  to  the  depths  of  his  nature  by  emotions 
of  a  religious  colour.  Thus  the  deeper  feelings  of  religion 
were  embodied  in  warlike  patriotism,  and  these  feelings 
the  Philistine  oppression  had  raised  to  extreme  tension 
among  all  who  loved  liberty,  while  yet  the  want  of  a 
captain  to  lead  forth  the  armies  of  Jehovah  against  his 
foemen  deprived  them  of  their  natural  outlet.  It  was  this 
tense  suppressed  excitement,  to  which  the  ordinary  acts  of 
worship  gave  no  expression,  which  found  vent  in  the 
enthusiastic  services  of  the  companies  of  prophets.  In  its 
external  features  the  new  phenomenon  was  exceedingly  like 
what  is  still  seen  in  the  East  in  every  zikr  of  dervishes — the 
enthusiasm  of  the  prophets  expressed  itself  in  no  artificial 
form,  but  in  a  way  natural  to  the  Oriental  temperament. 
Processions  with  pipe  and  hand-drum,  such  as  that 
described  in  1  Sara,  x.,  were  indeed  a  customary  part, of 
ordinary  religious  feasts ;  but  there  they  were  an  outlet 
for  natural  merriment,  here  they  have  changed  their 
character  to  express  an  emotion  more  sombre  and  more 
intense,  by  which  the  prophets,  and  often  mere  chance 
spectators  too,  were  so  overpowered  that  they  seemed  to 
Hose  their  old  personality  and  to  be  swayed  by  a  super- 
natural influence.  More  than  this  hardly  lies  in  the 
expression  "a  divine  spirit"  (d'D^X  nn),  which  is  used 
not  only  of  the  prophetic  afflatus  but  of  the  evil  frenzy 
that  afflicted  Saul's  later  days.  The  Hebrews  had  a  less 
narrow  conception  of  the  spiritual  than  we  are  apt'to  read 
into  their  records. 

'  1  Sam.  X.  6  sq.,  xix.  20  aq.  In  the  latter  pnssogo  read  "tlmy 
•aw  the  fervour  of  the  prophets  M  they  propliesicd,  &c."  (suo  Hoff- 
Diann  in  Stade's  Zdlachr.,  1883,  p.  89),  after  the  Syriac. 

*  On  grounds  of  text-criticism  indeed  both  thi«  paasago  «nd  1  Sam. 
xzviiL,  whcr«  at  ver.  6  prophets  appear  as  revealers  (seenV  am  held  to 
be  no  part  of  the  old  stork  of  the  history  of  Samuel. 

*  Hoffmann,  vi  supra,  p.  92  sq. 


To  give  a  name  to  this  new  phemonenon  the  Israelites, 
it  would  seem,  had  to  borrow  a  word  from  their  Canaanite 
neighbours.  At  all  events  the  word  nMt  is  neither  part 
of  the  old  Semitic  vocabulary  (in  Arabic  it  is  a  late  loan 
word),  nor  has  it  any  etymology  in  Hebrew,  the  cognate 
words  "  to  prophesy  "  and  the  like  being  derived  from 
the  noun  in  its  technical  sense.  But  we  know  that  there 
were  nebttm  among  the  Canaanites;  the  "prophets"  of 
Baal  appear  in  the  history  of  Elijah  as  men  who  sought 
to  attract  their  god  by  wild  orgiastic  rites.  In  fact  the 
presence  of  an  orgiastic  character  is  as  ■  marked  a  feature 
in  Canaanite  religion  as  the  absence  of  it  is  in  the  oldest 
religion  of  Israel ;  but  the  new  Hebrew  enthusiasts  had 
at  least  an  external  resemblance  to  the  devotees  of  the 
Canaanite  sanctuaries,  and  this  would  be  enough  to  deter- 
mine the  choice  of  a  name  which  in  the  first  instance 
seems  hardly  to  have  been  a  name  of  honour.*  In  admit- 
ting that  the  name  was  borrowed,  we  are  not  by  any  means 
shut  up  to  suppops  that  the  Hebrew  nebttm  simply  copied 
their  Cdnaanite  neighbours.  The  phenomenon  is  perfectly 
intelligible  without  any  such  hypothesis.  A  wave  of  in- 
tense religious  feeling  passes  over  the  land  and  finds  its 
expression,  according  to  the  ordinary  law  of  Oriental  life, 
in  the  formation  of  a  sort  of  enthusiastic  religious  order. 
The  Nazarites  and  the  Rechabites  are  parallel  phenomena, 
though  of  vastly  inferior  historical  importance. 

The  peculiar  methods  of  the  prophetic  exercises  de- 
scribed in  1  Samuel  were  of  little  consequence  for  the 
future  development  of  prophecy.  The  heat  of  a  first  en- 
thusiasm necessarily  cooled  when  the  political  conditions 
that  produced  it  passed  away ;  and,  if  the  prophetic  asso- 
ciations had  done  no  more  than  organize  a  now  form  of 
spiritual  excitement,  they  would  have  only  added  one  to 
the  many  mechanical'  types  of  hysterical  religion  which 
are  found  all  over  the  East.  Their  real  importance  was 
that  they  embodied  an  intenser  vein  of  feeling  than  was  ex- 
pressed in  the  ordinary  feasts  and  sacrifices,  and  that  the 
greater  intensity  was  not  artificial,  but  due  to  a  revival 
of  national  sentiment.  The  worship  of  the  local  sanctu- 
aries did  nothing  to  promote  the  sense  of  the  religious 
unity  of  Israel ;.  Jehovah  in  the  age  of  the  Judges  ran  no 
small  risk  of  being  divided  into  a  number  of  local  Baals, 
givers  of  natural  good  things  *ach  to  his  own  locality. 
Tlie  struggle  for  freedom  called 'forth  a  deeper  sense  of 
the  unity  of  the  people  of  the  one  Jehovah,  and  in  so 
doing  raised  religion*  to  a  loftier  plane  ;  for  a  faith  which 
unites  a  nation  is  necessarily  a  higher  moral  force  than 
one  which  only,  unites  a  township  or  a  clan.  The  local 
worships,  which  subsisted  unchanged  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  Hebrew  kingship,  gave  no  expression  to  this 
rise  in  tho  religious  consciousness  of  the  nation ;  on  the 
contrary  we  see  from  the  prophetic  books  of  the  8th 
century  that  they  lagged  more  and  more  behind  tho  pro- 
gress of  religious  thought.  But  the  prophetic  societies 
were  in  their  origin  one  symi)tom  of  that  upheaval  of 
national  life  of  which  the  institution  of  tho  human  sove- 
reign reigning  under  the  divine  King  was  the  chief  fruit ; 
they  preserved  tho  traditions  of  that  great  movement; 
they  were,  in  however  imperfect  a  way,'  nn  organ  of 
national  religious  feeling,  and  could  move  forward  with 
tho  movement  of  national  life.  And  so,  though  wo  cannot 
follow  the  steps  of  the  process,  we  are  not  surprised  to 

*  If  this  account  of  the  oriftin  of  tho  nrb'itm  is  correct  (comp. 
Kuciien,  Propltels,  Eng.  tr  ,  p.  654  sq.),  the  etymological  sense  of  the 
wonl  K*33  i«  coiuparutively  unimporUnt.  The  root  seems  to  mean 
"to  start  up,"  "to  rise  into  pnmiim'nce,"  and  so  "to  V-conio  audible"  ; 
but  the  range  of  possllilo  explanations  of  tho  noun  which  romaius  ojien 
is  too  (;reat  to  give  value  to  any  conjeotnre.  Tho  leading  Ticwi  are 
collected  in  several  of  the  books  cited  at  tho  close  of  this  article,  and 
a  fresh  and  interesting  investigation  is  given  in  G.  UofTniaun's  article 
quoted  above. 


816 


PROPHET 


learn  that  they  soou  had  an  established  footing  in'  Israel, 
and  .that  the  prophets  came  to  be  recognized  as  a  standing 
sacred  element  in  society.     What  was  their  precise  place 
in  Hebrew  life  we  hardly  know,  but  they -formed  at  least 
a  religious  class  which  in  all  its  traditions  represented  the 
new  national  and  not  the  old  communal  and  particularistic 
life.     One  characteristic  point  which  appears  very  early  is 
that  they  felt  themselves  called  upon  to  vindicate  the  laws 
of  divine  righteousness  in  national  matters,  and  especially 
in  the  conduct  of  the  kings,  who  were  not  answerable  to 
human  authority.     The  cases  of  Nathan  and  David  in  the 
matter  of  Uriah,  of  Elijah  and  Ahab  after  the  judicial 
murder  of  Naboth,  will  occur  to  every  one,  and  from  the 
Hebrew  standpoint  the  action  of  Gad  in  the  matter  of  the 
census   taken   by    David  belongs    to    the   same  category. 
Such  interventions  with  an  Eastern  king  demanded  great 
moral  courage,  for,  though  to  some  extent  protected  by 
their  sacred  character,  the  persons  of  the  prophets  were 
by  no  means  legally  inviolable  (1  Kings  xi.x.  2  ;  xxii.  27  ; 
2  Kings  vi.  31).     Another  point  of  the  first  importance  in 
the  development  of  the  class  was  the  absorption  into  it  of 
the  old  seers,  which,  as  we  have  already  seen,  must  have 
occurred    comparatively   early.     The    great  prophecy   of 
Nathan  (2  Sam.  vii.)  is  of  too  disputed  a  date  to  be  cited 
in  evidence,  but  already  in  David's  time  we  find  that 
Gad  the  ndbi  is  also  the  king's  seer  (2  Sara.  xxiv.  11  ; 
comp.  1   Sam.   xxii.  5),  and   by  and  by  it  comes  to  be 
clearly  understood  thtit  the  prophets  are   the  appointed 
organ  of  Jehovah's  communications  with  His  people  or  His 
king.     The  rise  of  this  function  of  the  prophets  is  plainly 
parallel  with  the  change  which  took  place  under  the  kings 
in  the  position  of  the  priestly  oracle ;  the  Torah  of  the 
priests  now  dealt  rather  with  permanent  sacred  ordinances 
than    with  the  giving  of  new  divine  counsel   for  special 
occasions.      Jehovah's    ever-present    kingship    in    Israel, 
which  was  the  chief  religious  idea  brought  into  promin- 
ence by  the  national  revival,  demanded  a  more  continuous 
manifestation  of  His  revealing  spirit  than  was  given  either 
by  the  priestly  lot  or  by  the  rise  of  occasional  seers ;  and 
where  could  this  be  sought  except  among  the  prophets  1 
It  does  not  of  course  follow  that  every  one  who  had  shared 
in  the  divine  afflatus  of  prophetic  enthusiasm  gave  forth 
oracles ;  but  the  prophets  as  a  class  stood  nearer  than 
other  men  to  the  mysterious  workings  of  Jehovah,  and  it 
was  in  their  circle   that  revelation  seemed  to   have  its 
natural  home.     A  most  instructive  passage  in  this  respect 
is  1  Kings  xxii.,  where  we  find  some  four  hundred  pro- 
phets gathered  together  round  the  king,  and  where  it  is 
clear  that  Jehoshaphat  was  equally  convinced,  on  the  one 
hand  that  the  word  of  Jehovah  could  be  found  among  the 
prophets,  and  on  the  other  that  it  was  very  probable  that 
some  or  even  the  mass  of  them  might  be  no  better  than 
liars.     And  here  it  is  to  be  observed  that  Micaiali,   who 
proved  t]ie  true  prophet,  does  not  accuse  the  others  of 
conscious  imposture ;   he   admits  that   they  speak  under 
the  influence  of  a  spirit  proceeding  from  Jehovah,  but  it 
is  a  lying  spirit  sent  to  deceive.     The  sublime  and  solitary 
figure  of  Elijah,  whom  we  are  apt  to  take  as  the  typical 
iigure  of  a  prophet  in  the  old  kingdom,  has  little  in  com- 
mon with  the  picture  even  of  the  true  prop)het  which  we 
derive  from  1   Kings  xxii.  ;  and  when  his  history  is  care- 
fully and  critically  read  it  is  found  to  give  'no  reason  to 
think  that  he  stood  in  any  close  relation  to  the  prophetic 
societies  of  his  time.     He  is  a  man  of  God  like  Moses  and 
Samuel,  a  man  admitted  to  a  strange  and  awful  intimacy 
with  the  Host  High,  and  like  them  he  combines  functions 
which  in  later  times  were  distributed  between  projihet  and 
priest.     The  fundamental  idea  that  Jehovah  guides  His 
jicople  by  the  word  of  revelation  is  older  than  the  tsepara- 
tiou  of  special  cUuscs  of  theocratic  organs;  Moses  indeed 


is  not  only  prophet  aud  priest  but  judge  and  ruler.  But 
as  the  history  goes  on  the  prophet  stands  out  more  and 
more  as  the  typical  organ  of  revelation,  the  type  of  the 
man  who  is  Jehovah's  intimate,  sharing  His  secrets  (Amos 
ii.  7  ;  Jcr.  xxiii.  22),  and  ministering  to  Israel  the  gracious 
guidance  which  distinguishes  it  from  all  other  nations 
(Amos  ii.  11;  Hosea  xii.  10,  13),  and  also  the  sentences 
of  awful  judgment  by  which  Jehovah  rebukes  rebellion 
(Hos.  vi.  5).  The  full  development  of  this  view  seems 
to  lie  between  the  time  of  Elijah  and  that  of  Amos  and 
Hosea, — under  the  dynasty  of  Jehu,  when  prophecy,  as 
represented  by  Elisha  and  Jonah,  stood  in  the,  fullest' 
harmony  with  the  patriotic  efforts  of  the  age.  This 
growth  in  the  conception  of  the  prophetic  function  is 
reflected  in  parts  of  the  Pentateuch  which  may  be  dated 
with  probability  as  belonging  to  the  period  just  named ; 
the  name  of  iidlt  is  extended  to  the  patriarchs  as  Jehovah's 
intimates  (Gen.  xx.  7),  and  JMoses  begins  to  be  chicHy 
looked  at  as  the  greatest  of  prophets  (Num.  xi.  xii. ; 
Deut.  xxxiv.  10),  while  Aaron  and  Miriam  are  also  placed 
in  the  same  class  (Exod.  xv.  20 ;  Num.  xiL)  because  they 
too  are  among  the  divinely  favoured  leaders  of  Israel 
(comp.  Micah  vi.  4).* 

Elisha,  the  successor  of  Elijah,  stood  in  much  closer 
relations  to  the  prophetic  societies  than  his  great  mastpr 
had  done.  As  a  man  of  practical  aims  he  required  a 
circle  through  which  to  work,  and  he  found  this  among 
the  prophets,  or,  as  they  are  now  called,  the  sons  of  the 
prophets.  According  to  Semitic  idiom  "  sons  of  the  pro- 
phets "  most  naturally  means  "  members  of  a  prophetic 
corporation,"  -  which  may  imply  that  under  the-  headship 
of  Elisha  and  the  favour  of  the  dynasty  of  Jehu,  which 
owed  much  to  Elisha  aud  his  party,  the  prophetic  societies 
took  a  more  regular  form  than  before.  The  accounts  r.e 
have  certainly  point  in  this  direction,  and  it  is  character- 
istic that  in  2  Kings  iv.  42  first  fruits  are  paid  to  Elisha. 
But  to  an  institution  like  prophecy  national  recognition, 
royal  favour,  and  fixed  organization  are  dangerous  gifts. 
It  has  always  been  the  evil  fate  of  the  Hebrews  to  destroy 
their  own  highest  ideals  by  attempting  to  translate  them 
into  set  forms,  and  the  ideal  of  a  prophetic  guJiance  of 
the  nation  of  Jehovah  could  not  have  been  more  effectu- 
ally neutralized  than  by  committing  its  realization  to  the 
kind  of  state  church  of  professional  prophets,  "eating 
bread"  by  their  vrade  (Amos  vii.  12),^  which  claimed  to 
inherit  the  traditions  of  Elijah  and  Elisha.  The  sons  of 
the  prophets  appear  to  have  been  grouped  round  the  lead- 
ing sanctuaries,  Gilgal,  Bethel,  and  the  like  (comp.'  Hos. 
ix.  8),  and  to  have  stood  in  pretty  close  relation  to  tlio 
priesthood  (Hos.  iv.  5),  though  this  comes  out  more  clearly 

^  Xoiie  of  tlic-iC  ]ia-sai;cs  Ijclong  lo  tlic  very  oMe^t  tlifcul  of  Peiila- 
teuclial  story,  and  siiuilaily  Dirburali  is  callcil  iiioiiliet«s.i  only  in  lire 
later  acuount  (Jud.  iv.  4),  not  in  tlji;  song  (Jiul.  v.).  It  i<  character- 
ibtic  that  in  Num.  xi.  the  tMurs  who  veceivc  a  share  in  Mo^c^'s  trsk 
also  receive  a  sliare  of  his  jiroiihetic  si'lrit  (com]",  tlie  iiavallel  2  Kin;r^ 
ii.  9  sq.).  In  the  oMcr  account  (ExoJ.  xviii.)  tliis  is  not  so.  Again 
>Ioses  differs  from  all  otljer  prujiliets  in  that  Jehovali  speaks  to  liini 
face  to  face,  and  he  sees  the  sijnilitude  of  Jeliovali.  This  is  in  fart 
the  difTercuce  hctwttn  hinrand  Eli'jali  {comp.  ExoU.  xxxiii.  8-11  with 
1  Kin,£;s  xix.  13),  hut  not  hetween  him  and  the  great  iiroplict*  of  tliO) 
Stli  century  (Isa.  vi.  5).  Tliat  prophecy  was  Renerally  given  in  visions, 
dreams,  and  obscure  sentences  is  true  only  of  an  early  perio<l.  Amos 
still  has  frequent  visions  of  a  more  or  less  OTiigmatic  character,  as 
Micaiali  had,  but  tliere  is  little  trace  of  this  in  tlic  gi'eat  i>ioi)1r-i^  after 
him.  On  the  psychological  i-easous  for  tliis  see  W.  K.  Smith,  I'rojikeU, 
0/ Israel  (1882),  p.  221  sq. 

"  See  G.  Hotfmann,  K irchcnversitmm'.iiiiy  :ii  Epfiesus  {lS7S),\>,i^-] 
'  Tliose  who  consulted  the  old  .seers  were  expected  to  make  a  pre- 
sent, 1  Sam.  ix.  7  (Arabic  liolaCinu-'l-f.cHuit  ;  comp.  Bukhaii,  iv.  219).) 
Siniil.ar  presents  were  brought  to  tlie  older  proidicls  (1  Kings  xiv.  3), 
and  first  fruits  were  sometimes  paid  to  a  man  of  God  ;  but  the  sue-, 
cessors  of  Amos  share  his  conteii.pt  for  thosu  who  traded  oi)  thcif 
oracks  (Jlic.  iii.  5  sq.). 


jt  R  O  P  H  E  T 


817 


for  the  southern  kingdom,  where,  down  to  the  last  days  of 
Hebrew  independence,  the  official  prophets  of  Jerusalem 
were  connected  with  the  temple  and  were  under  the 
authority  of  the  chitf  priest  (Jer.  xxix.  26).  Since  the 
absorption  of  the  aborigines  in  Israel  Canaanite  ideas  had 
exercised  great'influence  over  the  sanctuaries — so  much  so 
that  the  reforming  prophets  of  the  8th  century  regarded 
the  national  religion  as  having  become  wholly  heathenish  ; 
and  this  influence  the  ordinary  prophets,  whom  a  man 
like  Micah  regards  as  mere  diviners,  had  certainly  not 
escaped.  They  too  were,  at  the  beginning  of  the  x^ssyrian 
period,  not  much  more  different  from  prophets  of  Baal 
than  the  priests  were  from-  priests  of  Baal.  Their  God 
had  another  name,  but  it  was  almost  forgotten  that  He 
had  a  different  character. 

The  rise  and  progress  of  the  new  school  of  prophecy, 
beginning  with  Amos  and  continued  in  the  succession  of 
canonical  prophets,  which  broke  through  this  religious 
stagnation,  has  already  been  discussed  in  the  article 
IsEAEL  (vol.  xiii.  p.  410  «g.) ;  for  from  Amos  and  still  more 
from  Isaiah  downwards  the  prophets  and  their  work  make 
up  the  chief  interest  of  Hebrew  history.  From  this 
time,  moreover,  the  prophets  appear  as  authors  ;  and  their 
books,  preserved  in  the  Old  Testament,  form  the  subject 
of  special  articles  (Amos,  Hosea,  <fec.).  A  few  observa- 
tions of  a  general  character  will  therefore  suffice  in  this 
.Vlace. 

Amos  disclaimed  all  connexion  with  the  mere  profes- 
sional prophets,  and  in  this  he  was  followed  by  his  suc- 
cessors. Formerly  the  prophets  of  Jehovah  had  been  all 
on  the  same  side ;  their  opponents  were  the  prophets  of 
iSaal.  But  henceforth  there  were  two  parties  among  the 
prophets  of  Jehovah  themselves,  the  new  prophets  accus- 
ing the  old  of  imposture  and.  disloyalty  to  Jehovah,  and 
these  retaliating  with  a  charge  of  disloyalty  to  Israel. 
We  have  learned  to  call  the  prophets  of  the  new  school 
'  true  "  prophets  and  their  adversaries  "  false  ";  and  this 
Is  perfectly  just  if  we  take  the  appellations  to  mean  that 
the  true  prophets  maintained  a  high  r  and  therefore  a 
kruer  view  of  Jehovah's  character,  purpose,  and  relation  to 
'Jis  people.  But  the  false  prophets  were  by  no  means 
here  common  impostors  ;  they  were  the  accredited  expon- 
ents of  the  common  orthodoxy  of  their  day — and  even  of 
»  somewhat  progressive  orthodoxy,  for  the  prophets  who 
opposed  Jeremiah  took  their  stand  on  the  ground  of 
Josiah's  reformation,  and  plainly  regarded,  themselves  as 
conservators  of  the  prophetic  traditions  of  Isaiah,  whose 
doctrine  of  the  inviolability  of  Jehovah's  seat  on  Zion  was 
the  starting  point  of  their  opposition  to  Jeremiah's  pre- 
dictions of  captivity.  No  doubi  there  were  many  con- 
scious hypocrites  and  impostors  among  the  professional 
prophets,  as  there  always  will  be  among  the  professional 
representatives  of  a  religious  standpoint  which  is  intrin- 
sically untenable,  and  yet  has  on  its  side  the  prestige  of 
tradition  and  popular  acceptance.  But  on  the  whole  the 
false  prophets  deserve  that  name,  not  for  their  conscious 
impostures,  but  because  they  were  content  to  handle 
religious  formulas  which  tliey  had  learned  by  rote  as  if 
they  were  intuitive  principles,  the  fruit  of  direct  spiritual 
experience,  to  enforce  a  conventional  morality,  shutting 
their  eyes  to  glaring  national  sins,  after  the  manner  of 
professional  orthodoxy,  and  in  brief  to  treat  the  religious 
ttatut  quo  as  if  it  could  be  accepted  without  question  as 
fully  embodying  the  unchanging  principles  of  all  religion. 
The  popular  faith  was  full  of  heathenish  superstition 
strangely  blended  with  the  higher  ideas  which  wore  the 
inheritance  left  to  Israel  by  men  like  Moses  and  Elijah  ; 
but  the  common  prophets  accepted  all  alike,  and  combined 
heathen  arts  of  divination  and  practices  of  mere  physical 
enthusiasm  with  a  not  altogether  insincere  pretension  that 

1 !)  -29 


through  their  professional  oracles  the  ideal  was  being 
maintained  of  a  continuous  divine  guidance  of  the  people 
of  Jehovah. 

•Amos  and  his  successors  accepted  the  old  ideal  of  pro- 
phecy if  they  disowned  the  class  which  pretended  to  em- 
body it.  "  The  Lord  Jehovah  will  do  nothing,  but  He  ro- 
vealeth  His  secret  to  His  servants  the  prophets."  "  By  a 
prophet  Jehovah  brought  Israel  out  of  Eg3rpt,  and  by  a 
prophet "  in  each  successive  ago  Israel  had  been  watched 
over  and  preserved.  But  in  point  of  fact  the  function  of 
the  new  prophecy  was  not  to  preserve  but  to  destroy 
Israel,  if  Israel  stiU  meant  the  actual  Hebrew  nation  with 
its  traditional  national  life.  Till  Amos  prophecy  was 
optimist — even  Elijah,  Lf  he  denounced  the  destruction  of 
a  dynasty  and  the  annihilation  of  all  who  had  bowed  the 
knee  to  Baal,  never  doubted  of  the  future  of  the  nation 
when  only  the  faithful  remained ;  but  the  new  prophecy 
is  pessimist — it  knows  that  Israel  is  rotten  to  the  core, 
and  that  the  whole  fabric  of  society  must  be  dissolved 
before  reconstruction  is  possible.  And  this  it  knows,  not 
by  a  mere  ethical  judgment  on  the  visible  state  of  society, 
but  because  it  has  read  Jehovah's  secret  written  in  the 
signs  of  the  times  and  knows  that  Ho  has  condemned  His 
people.  To  the  mass  these  signs  are  unintelligible,  be- 
cause they  deem  it  impossible  that  Jehovah  should  utterly 
cast  off  His  chosen  nation ;  but  to  those  who  know  His 
.absolute  righteousness,  and  confront  it  with  the  people's 
sin,  the  impending  approach  of  the  Assyrian  can  have 
only  one  meaning  and  can  point  to  only  one  issue,  viz., 
the  total  ruin  of  the  nation  which  has  denied  its  divine 
head.  It  is  sometimes  proposed  to  view  the  canonical 
prophets  as  simple  preachers  of  righteousness ;  their  pro- 
dictions  of  woe,  we  are  told,  are  conditional,  and  tell  what 
Israel  must  suffer  if  it  does  not  repent.  But  this  is  an 
incomplete  view ;  the  peculiarity  of  their  position  is  that 
they  know  that  Israel  as  it  exists  is  beyond  repentance. 
Only,  while  they  are  hopeless  about  their  nation  they 
have  absolute  faith  in  Jehovah  and  His  purpose.  That 
cannot  be  frustrated,  and,  as  it  includes  the  choice  of  Israel 
as  His  people,  it  is  certain  that,  though  the  present 
commonwealth  must  perish,  a  new  and  better  Israel  will 
rise  from  its  grave.  Not  the  reformation  but  the  resur- 
rection of  Israel  is  the  goal  of  the  prophets'  hone  ^Hos. 
vi.  1  sg.). 

This  of  course  is  only  the  broadest  possible  statement 
of  a  position  which  undergoes  many  modifications  in  the 
hands  of  individual  seers,  but  on  the  whole  governs  all 
prophecy  froth  Amos  to  Jeremiah.  The  position  has,  we 
see,  two  sides :  on  the  one  side  the  prophets  are  heralds 
of  an  inexorable  judgment  based  on  the  demands  of  abso- 
lute righteousness  ;  on  the  other  they  represent  an  assured 
conviction  of  Jehovah's  invincible  and  gracious  love.  The 
current  theological  formula  for  this  two-sided  position  is 
that  the  prophets  are  at  once  preachers  of  the  law  and 
forerunnere  of  the  gosiMjl ;  and,  as  it  is  generally  assumed 
that  they  found  the  law  already  written,  their  originality 
and  real  importance  is  made  to  lie  wholly  in  their  evan- 
gelical function.  But  in  reality,  as  has  been  shown  in 
IsRAKL  and  Pentateuch,  the  prophets  are  older  than  th» 
law,  and  the  part  of  their  work  which  was  really  epoch- 
making  for  Israel  is  just  the  part  which  is  usually  passed 
over  as  unimportant.  By  emphasizing  the  purely  moral 
character  of  Jehovah's  demands  from  Israel,  by  teaching 
that  the  mere  payment  of  service  and  worship  at  Jehovah's 
shrines  did  not  entitle  Israel's  sins  to  bo  treated  one  whit 
more  lightly  than  the  sins  of  other  nations,  and  by  en- 
forcing these  doctrines  through  the  conception  that  tlie 
approach  of  the  all  dastroying  empire  before  which  Israel 
must  fall  equally  with  all  its  neighbours  was  the  proof  of 
Jchr-vah'a  impartial  righteousness,  th\v  gave  for  the  fir«l, 


!^18 


P  Tl  O  P  H  E  T 


fcmc  a  really  broad  and  fruitful  conception  of  the  moral 
goTcrnment  of  the  whole  earth  by  the  one  true  God.^ 
'  It  is  impossible  to  read  the  books  of  the  older  prophets, 
and  especially  of  their  protagonist  Amos,  -wathout  seeing 
that  the  new  thing  which  they  are  fcompelled  to  speak 
is  not  Jehovah's  grace  but  His  inexorable  and  righteous 
wrath.  That  that  wrath  must  be  followed  by  fresh 
mercies  is  not  in  itself  a  new  thought,  but  only  the  neces- 
sary expression  of  the  inherited  conviction  that  Jehovah, 
whom  they  preach  as  the  judge  of  all  the  earth,  is  never- 
theless, as  past  history  has  proved,  the  .God  who  has 
chosen  Israel  as  His  people.  That  this  is  so  appears  most 
clearly  in  the  fact  that  with  Amos  the  prophecy  of  restora- 
tion appears  only  in  a  few  verses  at  the  end  of  his  book, 
and  in  the  still  more  instructive  fact  that  neither  he  nor 
Hosea  attempts  to  explain  how  the  restoration  which  they 
accept  as  a  postulate  of  faith  is  to  be  historically  realized. - 
One  point  only  in  their  picture  of  the  great  restoration 
appears  to  present  the  germ  of  an  historical  principle.  The 
Israel  of  the  future  is  to  be  one  united  nation  as  in  the 
days  of  David.  The  Davidic  kingdom  is  accepted  by 
both  prophets,  and  by  Hosea  even  more  explicitly  than  by 
Amos,  as  the  type  of  the  future  kingdom  of  Jehovah. 
But  one  sees  from  the  way  in  which  this  thought  is 
handled  that  it  is  the  idea  of  that  kingdom  as  it  was  in 
days  of  old  which  is  befors  the  prophet's  mind  ;  the  actual 
state  of  Judah,  which  was  not  religiously  better  than  the 
greater  Israel,  though  it  perhaps  still  possessed  elements 
of  greater  political  and  social  stability,  was  not  such  as  to. 
suggest  the  thought  that  when  Samaria  fell  the  continuity 
of  Jehovah's  relations  with  His  people  could  be  preserved 
at  Jerusalem.  It  was  in  the  great  northern  kingdom — 
still  Israel  par  excellence — not  in  the  petty  region  that  had 
remained  loyal  to  David,  that  the  drama  of  divine  justice 
and  mercy  was  to  be  acted  to  its  end :  to  Hosea,  at  least 
in  his  later  prophecies,  the  fate  of  Judah  does  not  appear 
separable  from  that  of  the  northern  realm— when  Israel 
and  Ephraim  fall  by  their  iniquity  Judah  must  fall  with 
them  (Hos.  v.  5).  Thus  even  on  this  side  there  is  no 
real  bridge  over  the  chasm  that  separates  the  total,  ruin 
impending  over  the  Israel  of  the  present  from  the  glorious 
restoration  of  the  Israel  of  the  future.  There  is  a  unity 
in  the  divine  purpcEe,  of  which  judgment  and  mercy  are 
the  two  poles,  but  there  is  as  j-et  no  conception  of  an 
historical  continuity  in  rhe  execution  of  that  purpose,  and 
therefore  no  foundation  laid  for  the  maintenance  of  a  con- 
tinuous community  ot  faith  in  the  impending  fall  of  the 
nation. 

From  this  we  can  see  the  enormous  importance  of  the 
work  of  Isiaiah  as  it  has  been  exhibited  in  the  article 
Israel,  vol.  liii.  p.  413  sq.;  his  doctrine  of  the  remnant, 
the  holy  seed,  never  lost  to  the  cation  in  the  worst  times, 
never  destroyed  by  the  most  iiery  judgments,  supplies  the 
lacking  element  of  continuity  between  the  Israel  of  the 
present  and  of  the 'future.  Jehovah's  kingdom  cannot 
perish  even  for  a  time ;  nay,  Isaiah  argues  that  it  must 
remain  visible,  and  visible  not  merely'in  the  circle  of  the 
Ijke-mindsd  whom  he  had  gathered  round  him  and  who 

•  It  must  not  be  supposed  that  this  conception  necessarily  came 
into  force  as  soon  as  it  wae  recogmzed  that  Jehovah  was  the  creator  of 
the  universe.  That  the  national  or  tribal  god  is  the  creator  is  an 
idea  often  found  in  very  low  religions.  To  us  God's  sovereignty 
over  nature  often  seems  the  hardest  thing  to  conceive  ;  but  to  primi- 
tive i>eoples  ■who  know  noching  of  lavs  of  nature  His  moral  sove- 
reignty is  a  much  more  difficult  conception.  ■  In  the  older  literature  of 
the  Hebrews  the  nearest  approach  to  the  thou"''!  of  Amos  and  Hosea 
is  not  Gen.  ii. ,  iii. ,  but  Gen.  .xviii.  25. 
.- "  Hosea  ii.  14  3q. ,  xi.  10  sq.  are  not  solutions  of  this  difficulty,  as  ap^ 
pears  from  their  metaphorical  form.  They  tell  us  that  Jehovah  will 
call  His  people  and  that  they  will  answer ;  but  this  is  only  putting  in  an- 
other form  the  axiom  that  the  gifts  and  calling  of  God  are  without 
:)9U«ntance. 


formed  the  first  germ  of  the  notion  of  the  church,  but  in 
the  political  form  of  a  kingdom  also.  Zion  at  least,  the 
sacred  hearth  of  Jehovah,  the  visible  centre  ofiis  king- 
dom, must  remain  inviolable ;  it  can  never  be  delivered 
into  the  hands  of  the  AssjTian.  Thus,  ivith  Isaiah  in  the 
days  of  Sennacherib's  invasion,  the  prophetic  word  became 
again,  as  it  had  been  in  the  days  of  the  Syrian  wars,  "  the 
chariots  and  horsemen  of  Israel,"  the  stay  and  strength  of 
aU  patriotic  hope. 

Yet  even  at  ttis  crisis  the  resemblance  between  Isaiah 
and  Elisha,  between  the  new' prophecy  and  the  old,  is 
more  apparent  than  .real.  Elisha  still  stands  firmly 
planted  on  the  old  national  conception  of  the  religion  of 
Jehovah ;  his  ideals  are  such  as  do  not  lie  beyond  the  range 
of  practical  politics.  In  doing  battle  against  the  Tyrian 
Baal  he  is  content  with  a  reformation  for  which  the  whole 
nation  can  be  heartily  won,  because  it  makes  no  radical 
change  in  their  inherited  faith  and  practices  of  worship. 
And  in  stimulating  resistance  to  Syria  he  is  still  the 
prophet  of  the  old  "  God  of  the  liosts  of  Israel " — a  God 
who  works  deliverance  by  the  thews  and  sinews  of  His 
earthly  warriors.  But  Isaiah's  ideal  of  religion  was  one 
which  could  nev£r  have  been  realized  by  a  political  move- 
ment ;  to  root  out  all  idols,  all  superstitions  inconsistent 
with  his  lofty  conception  of  the  just  King  of  Israel,  who 
cares  not  for  sacrifice  and  oblation,  who  can  be  acceptably 
approached  through  no  religion  of  rote,  whose  sovereignty 
can  receive  practical  recognition  only  by  a  thoroughgoing 
reformation  of  aU  parts  of  social  life — this  was  an  ideal 
which  could  not  be  carried  out  by  the  mere  education  and 
concentration  of  any  forces  inherent  in  the  nation.  The 
true  Israel  of  Isaiah  is  not  an  historical  possibility ;  it  is 
a  transcendental  ideal  for  which  he  himself  demaods  as  a 
preliminary  condition  an  outpouring  of  Jehovah's  spirit  on 
king  (Isa.  xi.  2)  and  psaple  (Isa.  xxxiL  15),  working  an 
entire  moral  regeneration.  And  so  too  it  is  not  throug'i 
the  material  organization  of  the  Judasan  kingdom  tha; 
Isaiah  looks  for  deliverance  from  Assyria.  He  sees  with 
absolute  clearness  the  powerlessness  of  the  little  realm 
against  that  great  empire :  the  Assyrian  must  fall,  and 
fall  before  Jerusalem,  that  Jehovah  alone  may  appear  to 
all  the  earth  as  the  one  true  God,  while- all  the  idols 
appear  as  vain  to  help  their  worshippers ;  but  he  falls  by 
no  earthly  sword,  but  before  the  direct  interposition  of 
Jehovah  Himself.  These  conceptions  break  through  the 
old  particularistic  idea  of  Jehovah  and  His  religion  at 
every  point.  Zion  is  now  not  the  centre  of  a  mere 
national  cult,  but  the  centre  of  all  true  religion  for  the 
whole  world ;  and  more  than  once  the  prophet  indicates 
not  obscurely  that  the  necessary  issue  of  the  great  conflict 
between  Jehovah  and  the  gods  of  the  heathen  must  be  the 
conversion  of  all  nations,  the  disappearance  of  every  other 
religion  before  the  faith  of  the  God  of  Israel.  But  this 
all-conquering  religion  is  not  the  popular  Jehovah  wor- 
ship ;  why  then  can  the  prophet  still  hold  that  the  one 
true  God  is  yet  the  God  of  Israel,  and  that  the  vindica- 
tion of  His  Godhead  involves  .the  preservation  of  Israel  1 
Not  because  His  providence  is  confined  to  Israel — it 
embraces  all  nations ;  not  because  He  shows  any  favour- 
itism to  Israel^He  judges  all  nations  by  the  same  strict 
rule.  If  Israel  alone  among  nations  can  meet  the  Assyrian 
with  the  boast  "  with  us  is  God,"  the  reason  is  that  in 
Zion  the  true  God  is  known^ — not  indeed  to  the  mass,  but 
to  the  prophet  and  to  the  "holy  seed''  which  forms  the 
salt  of  the  nation.     The  infferpretation  which  Isaiah  j)uts 

^'  We  should  be  apt  to  say  "  the  tru»  idea  of  Go  J, "  but  that  is  » 
way  of  Jiutting  it  which  does  not  correspond  with  prophetic  thought. 
To  the  prophets  knowledge  of  God  if  concrete  knowledge  of  the 
divine  character  as  shown  in  acts — know>«dge  of  a  person,  not  of  on 
idea. 


# 


F  R  O  P  H  E  T 


810 


on  this  fact  Je]icnds  on  the  circumstance  that  at  that  date 
religion  had  never  been  conceived  as  a  relation  between 
God  and  individuals,  or  as  a  relation  between  God  and  a 
jmrely  spiritual  society,  but  always  as  a  relation  between 
a  deity  and  some  natural  social  group — a  stock,  a  tribe,  a 
nation.  It  was  therefore  only  as  the  God  ,of  Israel  that 
the  true  God  could  be  known  within  Israel  ;  and  so  on  tlie 
one  hand  the  little,  society  of  faith — which  had  not  in 
reality  the  least  tinge  of  political  coherence — is  thought 
6f  as  yet  forming  the  true  kernel  of  the  nation  qua  nation, 
while  on  the  other  hand  the  state  of  Judah  profits  by  the 
prophetic  religion  inasmuch  as  the  nation  must  be  saved 
From  destruction  in  order  that  the  prophetic  faith — which 
is  still  bound  up  with  the  idea  of  the  nation — may  not  be 
dissolved.  This  connexion  of  ideas  w-as  not  of  course 
explicitly  before  the  prophet's  mind,  for  the  distinctive 
featuresof  a  national  religion  could  not  be  formulated  so 
long  as  no  other  kind  of  religion  had  ever  been  heard  of. 
When  we  put  down  in  black  and  white  the  explicit  details 
of  what  is  involved  in  Isaiah's  conclusion  of  faith  we  see 
that  it  has  no  absolute  validity.  True  religion  can  exist 
without  having  a  particular  nation  as  its  subject  as  soon 
as  the  idea  of  a  spiritual  community  of  faith  has  been 
realized.  But  till  this  idea  was  realized  Isaiah  was  right 
in  teaching  that  the  law  of  continuity  demanded  that  the 
nation  within  which  Jehovah  had  made  Himself  known  to 
His  spiritual  prophets  must  be  maintained  as  a  nation  for 
the  sake  of  the  glory  of  God  and  the  preservation  of  the 
"holy  seed." 

The  catastrophe  of  Sennacherib's  army,  in  which  the 
doctrine  of  the  inviolability  of  Zion  received  the  most 
striking  practical  confirmation,  was  welcomed  by  Isaiah 
and  his  disciples  as  an  earnest  of  the  speedy  inbringing  of 
the  new  spiritual  era.  But  these  hopes  were  not  fulfilled. 
The  prophetic  teaching  had  indeed  produced  a  profound 
effect ;  to  the  party  of  reaction,  as  the  persecution  under 
Manasseh  shows,  it  seemed  to  threaten  to  subvert  all 
society ;  and  we  can  still  measure  the  range  and  depth  of 
its  influence  in  the  literary  remains  of  the  period  from 
Isaiah  to  the  captivity,  which  include  Micah  vi.  1-8,  and 
that  noble  essay  to  build  a  complete  national  code  on  the 
principle  of  love  to  God,  righteousness,  and  humanity — 
the  legislation  of  Deuteronomy.  Nay  more,  the  reception 
of  the  book  of  Deuteronomy  by  king  and  people  in  the 
eighteenth  year  of  Josiah  shows  what  a  hold  the  prophetic 
teaching  had  on  the  popular  conscience ;  it  was  no  small 
triumph  that  there  was  even  a' passing  attempt  to  intro- 
duce such  a  code  as  the  law  of  the  land.  But  it  was  one 
thing  to  touch  the  conscience  of  the  nation  and  another 
to  change  its  heart  and  renew  its  whole  life.  That  nj 
code  could  do,  and,  as  every  practical  government  must 
adapt  itself  to  actualities  and  not  to  a  purely  ideal 
standard,  it  must  have  appeared  at  once  that  the  attempt 
to  govern  by  prophetic  ideas  was  only  sewing  a  new  piece 
on  an  old  garment.  The  immediate  result  of  Josiah's 
reformation  was  the  complete  dissolution  of  anything  that 
could  be  called  a  7)olitical  party  of  prophetic  ideas ;  the 
priests  and  the  ordinary  prophets  were  satisfied  with  what 
had  been  accomjilished ;  the  old  abuses  began  again,  but 
the  nation  had  received  a  reformed  constitution  and  there 
was  nothing  more  to  be  said. 

Thus  it  was  that,  though  beyond  question  there  had 
been  a  real  advance  in  the  average  ethical  and  spiritual 
ideas  of  the  people  since  the  time  of  Isaiah,  Jeremiah 
found  himself  more  isolated  than  Isaiah  had  ever  been. 
Even  in  that'earliost  part  of  his  book  which  Ls  mainly  a 
recapitulation  of  his  experiences  and  work  in  the  reign  of 
Josiah,  his  tone  is  one  of  absolute  hopelessness  as  to  the 
future  of  the  nation.  But  we  should  quite  misunderstand 
this  pessimism  if  we  held  it  to  mean  that  Jeremiah  saw 


no  signs  of  private  morality  and  individual  spiritual  con- 
victions among  his  people.  To  him  as  a  prophet  the  ques- 
tion was  whether  Israel  as  a  nation  could  be  saved.  In 
Isaiah's  days  the  answer  had  been  aflirmativc ;  there 
appeared  to  be  at  least  a  potentiality  of  national  regenera- 
tion in  the  holy  seed  when  once  it  should  be  cleansed 
from  the  chaS  by  a  work  of  judgment.  But,  now  a  cen- 
tury of  respite  had  been  granted,  the  Chaldrrans  were  at 
the  gates,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  valid  national  repent- 
ance. The  harvest  was  past,  the  season  of  ripe  fruits  was 
over,  and  still  Israel  was  not  saved  (Jer.  viii.  20).  The 
time  of  respite  had  been  wasted,  all  attempts  at  national 
reformation  had  failed ;  how  should  Jehovah  spare  a 
nation  which  had  shown  no  tokens  of  fitness  to  discharge 
the  vocation  of  Jehovah's  people  1  The  question  was  not 
whether  there  was  still  a  faithful  remnant,  but  whether 
that  remnant  was  able  to  save  the  state  as  a  state,  and 
this  Jeremiah  was  forced  to  deny.  Nay  every  attempt  at 
genuine  amendment  was  frustrated  by  the  dead  weight  of 
a  powerful  opposition,  and  when  the  first  captivity  came 
it  was  precisely  the  best  elements  of  Judah  that  went  into 
captivity  and  were  scattered  among  the  nations  (xxiv.  5  ; 
xxiii.  2  sr/.).  And  so  the  prophet  was  compelled  to  teach 
that  the  immediate  future  of  Israel  was  a  blank,  that  the 
state  as  a  state  was  doomed.  He  did  not  even  dare  to 
intercede  for  such  a  nation  (vii.  16);  though  Moses  and 
Samuel  stood  pleading  for  it  before  Jehovah,  He  could  not 
but  cast  it  out  of  His  sight  (xv.  1).  It  was  the  death- 
struggle  of  the  idea  of  a  national  religion  (vi.  8) ;  the  con- 
tinuity of  true  faith  refused  to  be  longer  bound  up  with 
the  continuity  of  the  nation.  Still  indeed  the  New-Testa- 
ment idea  of  a  purely  spiritual  kingdom  of  God,  in  this 
world  but  not  of  it,  is  beyond  the  prophet's  horizon,  and 
he  can  think  of  no  other  vindication  of  the  divine  purpose 
than  that  the  true  Israel  shall  be  gathered  again  from 
its  dispersion.  But  the  condition  of  this  restoration  is 
now  changed.  To  gather  the  dispersed  implies  a  call  of 
God  to  individuals,  and  in  the  restored  Israel  the  covenant 
of  Jehovah  shall  be  not  merely  with  the  nation  but  with 
rpen  one  by  one,  and  "they  shall  no  more  teach  everyone 
his  neighbour  saying,  Know  the  Lord,  for  all  shall  know 
Me  from  the  least  of  them  even  to  the  greatest  of  them  " 
(xxxi.  33  s(}.). '  In  a  word,  when  the  nation  is  dissolved 
into  its  individual  elements  the  continuity  and  ultimate 
victory  of  true  faith  depends  on  the  relation  of  Jehovah  to 
individual  souls,  out  of  which  the  new  state  shall  bo  built 
up  (Jer.  iii.  14). 

Thus,  for  the  first  time  in  the  world's  history,  the  ulti- 
mate problem' of  faith  is  based  on  the  relation  of  God  to 
the  individual  believer;  and  this  problem  Jeremiah  is  com- 
pelled to  face  mainl)'  in  relation  to  his  own  personalitj',  to 
assure  himself  that  his  own  faith  is  a  true  possession  and 
lifts  him  above  all  the  calamities  that  assail  him,  in  spite 
of  the  hopeless  ruin  of  his  nation.  The  struggle  is  a  sore 
one ;  his  very  life  is  bitter  to  him  ;  and  yet  ho  emerges 
victorious.  To  know  that  God  is  with  him  is  enough 
though  all  else  fail  him.  Now  as  soon  as  the  relation  of 
God  to  a  single  soul  has  thus  been  set  free  from  all  earthly 
conditions  the  work  of  prophecy  is  really  complete,  for 
what  God  has  done  for  one  soul  Ho  can  do  for  all,  but  only 
by  speaking  to  each  believer  as  directly  as  Ho  does  to 
Jeremiah.  Henceforth  revelation  is  not  a  word  to  the 
nation  spoken  through  an  individual,  but  a  word  spoken 
to  one  which  is  equally  valid  for  every  one  who  receives  it 
with  like  faith.  The  New  Testament  joins  on  not  to  the 
post-exile  prophets,  who  are  only  faint  echoes  of  earlis; 
seers,  but  to  Jeremiah's  great  idea  of  the  now  covenant  ^ 
which  God's  law  is  written  on  the  individual  heart,  avd 
the  community  of  faith  is  the  fellowship  of  all  to  whoai 
He  has  thus  spoken      The  prophets  of  the  rrstoration  aro 


B20 


PROPHET 


only  the  last  waves  beating  on  the  shore  after  the  storm 
which  destroyed  the  old  nation,  but  created  in  its  room  a 
fellowship  of  spiritual  religion,  had  passed  over ;  they 
resemble  the  old  prophets  in  the  same  imperfect  way  in 
which  the  restored  community  of  Jerusalem  resembled  a 
real  nation.  It  was  only  in  so  far  as  the  community  of 
faith  still  possessed  certain  external  features  of  nationality 
that  post-exile  prophecy  was  possible  at  all,  and  very  soon 
the  care  of  the  national  or  quasi-national  aspects  of  religion 
passed  altogether  out  of  their  hands  into  those  of  the 
scribes,  of  whom  Ezekiel  was  the  first  father,  and  whose 
Torah  was  not  the  living  word  of  prophecy  but  the  Penta- 
teuchal  code.  From  the  time  of  Jeremiah  downwards  the 
perennial  interest  of  Old-Testament  thought  Jies  in  the 
working  out  of  the  problems  of  personal  religion  and  of 
the  idea  of  a  spiritual  fellowship  of  faith  transcending  all 
national  limitation  ;  and  these  are  the  motives  not  only  of 
the  lyrics  of  the  Psalter  but  of  the  greater  theodiceas  of 
Isa.  xl.-lsvi.  and  of  the  book  of  Job.  The  theodicea  of 
the  prophets  is  national ;  they  see  Jehovah's  righteousness 
working  itself  out  with  unmistakable  clearness  in  the 
present,  and  know  that  all  that  He  brings  upon  Israel  is 
manifestly  .just ;  but  from  the  days  of  Jeremiah  i  the 
fortunes  of  Israel  as  a  nation  are  no  longer  the  one  thing 
which  religion  has  to  explain ;  the  greater  question  arises 
of  a  theory  of  the  divine  purpose  ■which  shall  justify  the 
ways  of  God  with  individual  men  or  with  His  "  righteous 
servant " — that  is,  with  the  ideal  community  of  true  faith 
as  distinct  from  the  natural  Israel.  The  discussion  of  these 
problems  constitutes  a  quite  distinct  type  of  Old-Testament 
literature  beginning  with  the  book  of  the  Great  Unknown, 
which  is  now  appended  to  the  wrritings  of  Isaiah  ;  but  this 
is  an  accident  of  arrangement  that  ought  not  to  lead  us 
to  include  among  the  prophetic  writings  proper  a  work  so 
entirely  different  in  origin  and  scope,  and  addressed  not  to 
an  actual  nation  but  to  the  ideal  Israel,  whose  vocation  is 
no  longer  political  but  purely  religious. 

It  will  be  evident  even  from  this  rapid  sketch,  neces- 
sarily confined  to  a  few  of  the  most  cardinal  points,  that 
Hebrew  prophecy  is  not  a  thing  that  can  be  defined  and 
reduced  to  a  formula,  but  was  a  living  institution  which 
can  only  be  understood  by  studying  its  growth  and 
observing  its  connexion  with  the  historical  movements 
with'  which  its  various  manifestations  were  bound  up. 
Throughout  the  great  age  of  prophecy  the  most  obvious 
formal  character  that  distinguished  it  was  that  the  pro- 
phet did  not  speak  in  his  own  name  but  in  the  name  of 
Jehovah.  But  the  claim  to  speak  in  the  name  of  God  is 
one  which  has  often  been  made — and  made  sincerely — by 
others  than  the  prophets  of  Israel,  and  which  is  suscep- 
tible of  a  great  variety  of  meanings,  according  to  the  idea 
of  God  and  His  relation  to  man  which  is  presupposed. 
Every  early  religion  seeks  to  realize  such  an  intercourse 
with  the  object  of  worship  as  shall  be  two-sided ;  when 
the  worshipper  approaches  the  deity  he  desires  to  have  an 
answer  assuring  him  of  acceptance  and  divine  aid.  The 
revelation  thus  looked  for  may  be  found  in  natural  omens, 
in  the  priestly  lot  or  some  similar  sacral  oracle,  or,  finally, 
in  the  words  of  a  seer  who  is  held  to  be  in  closer  contact 
with  the  deity  than  common  men.  Broadly  speaking 
these  methods  of  revelation  are  found  in  all  ancient 
religions,  but  no  other  religion  presents  anything  precisely 
analogous  to  prophecy.  It  is  true  that  the  prophets 
absorbed  the  old  seers,  and  that  the  Israelites,  as  we  see 
in  the  case  of  the  asses  of  Kish,  went  to  their  seers  on  the 
game  kind  of  occasions  as  sent  heathen  nations  to  seers  or 
diviners.  There  is  sufficient  evidence  that  down  to  the 
Jast  ago  of  the  Judaean  monarchy  practices  not  essentially 
different  from  divination  were  current  in  all  classes  of 
'  Oue  might  say  from  the  days  of  Habakkuk. 


society,  and  were  often  in  the  Lands  of  men  who  claimed' 
to  speak  as  prophets  in  the  name  of  Jehovah.  But  the 
great  prophets  disallowed  this  claim,  and  the  distinction 
which  they  draw  between  true  prophecy  and  divination  ia 
recognized  not  only  in  the  prophetical  law  of  Deuteronomy 
but  in  earlier  parts  of  the  Pentateuch  and  historical  booka' 
"  There  is  no  augury  in  Jacob  and  no  divination  in  Israel ; 
in  due  time  it  is  told  to  Jacob  and  to  Israel  what  God 
doth  work  "  (Num.  xxiii.  23).  The  seer,  in  the  sense  -in 
which  all  antiquity  believed  in  seers,  is  simply  a  man  who 
sees  what  others  cannot  see,  no  matter  whether  the  thing 
seen  be  of  public  or  of  mere  private  interest ;  but  the 
prophet  is  an  organ  of  Jehovah's  kingship  over  His  people — 
he  sees  and  tells  so  much  of  the  secret  purpose  of  Jehovah 
as  is  needful  for  His  people  to  know.  We  have  already 
seen  how  Amos  and  Hosea  put  this  (s^ipra,  p.  817  ),  ajid  it 
does  not  appear  that  they  were  introducing  a  conception 
of  prophecy  formally  novel — the  new  thing  was  their  con- 
ception of  Jehovah's  purpose.  And  so  too  with  the  fol- 
lowing great  prophets ;  the  important  thing  in  their  work 
was  not  their  moral  earnestness  and  not  their  specific  pre- 
dictions of  future  events,  but  the  clearness  of  spiritual 
insight  with  which  they  read  the  spiritual  significance  of 
the  signs  of  the  time  and  interpreted  the  movements  of 
history  as  proofs  of  Jehovah's  actual  moral  sovereignty 
exercised  over  Israel.  So  long  as  the  great  problems  of 
religion  could  be  envisaged  as  problems  of  the  relation  of 
Jehovah  to  Israel  as  a  nation  the  prophets  continued  to 
speak  and  to  bring  forth  new  truths ;  but  the  ultimate 
result  was  that  it  became  apparent  that  the  idea  of  moral 
government  involved  the  destruction  of  Israel,  and  then  the 
function  of  prophecy  was  gone  because -it  was  essentially 
national  in  its  objects.  Bufmeantime  the  relation  of  God 
to  the  prophet  had  acquired  an  independent  significance; 
the  inner  life  of  Isaiah  during  the  long  years  when  his 
teaching  seemed  lost,  or  of  Jeremiah  through  the  whole 
course  of  his  seemingly  fruitless  ministry,  was  rich  in 
experiences  of  faith  triumphing  over  temptations  and 
trials,  of  personal  converse  with  God  sustaining  the  soul 
in  the  face  of  difficulties  hopeless  to  the  eye  of  sense, 
which  formed  the  pattern  of  a  new  and  higher  stage  of 
religion  in  which  the  relation  of  the  individual  soul  to 
God  should  be  set  free  from  those  limitations  which  had 
been  imposed  by  the  conception  that  the  primary  subject 
of  religion  is  the  nation.  Bat  the  religion  of  the  Old 
Testament  did  not  become  merely  individualistic  in  becom- 
ing individual,  and  now  the  problem  was  to  realize  a  new 
conception  of  the  society  of  faith,  the  true  Israel,  the 
collective  servant  of  Jehovah — in  a  word  to  form  the  idea 
of  a  spiritual  commonwealth  and  to  show  how  it  was  pos- 
sible for  faith  to  hold  fast,  in  spite  of  aU  seeniing  contra- 
diction, to  the  truth  that  Jehovah' bad  chosen  for  Himself 
a  spiritual  people,  every  member  of  which  was  in  truth  the 
object  of  His  saving  and  unfailing  love,  and  which  should 
ultimately  in  very  deed  inherit  that  glory  of  which  the 
carnal  Israel  was  unworthy.  This  is  the  post-prophetic 
problem  which  occupies  the  more  profound  of  the  later 
Old-Testament  books,  but  first  received  its  true  solution 
in  the  gospel,  when  the  last  shreds  of  the  old  nationalism 
disappeared  and  the  spiritual  kingdom  found  its  centre  in 
the  person  of  Christ. 

Old-Testament  prophecy  therefore  forms  only  one  stags 
in  a  larger  development,  and  its  true  significance  and 
value  can  only  be  realized  when  it  is  looked  at  in  this 
light. '  In  this  as  in  all  other  matters  of  transcendental 
truth  "wisdom  is  justified  of  her  children";  the  conclusive 
vindication  of  the  prophets  as  true  messengers  of  God  is 
that  their  work  forms  an  integral  part  in  the  progress  of 
spiritual  religion,  and  there  are  many  things  in  their 
teaching   the   profundity  and   importance   of    which  .arg 


P  K  0  P  H  E  T 


821 


inuuh  clearer  to  us  than  they  could  possibly  have  been  to 
their  contemporaries,  because  they  are  mere  flashes  of 
spiritual  insight  lighting  up  for  a  moment  some  corner  of 
a  region  on  which  the  steady  sun  of  the  gospel  had  not 
yet  risen 

A  less  complete  but  yet  most  powerful  vindication  of 
the  spiritual  prophets  was  furnished  by  the  course  and 
event  of  Israel's  history.  After  the  captivity  it  was  no 
longer  a  question  that  the  prophetic  conception  of  Jehovah 
was  the  only  possible  one.  Thenceforth  the  religion  of 
Jehovah  and  the  religion  of  the  prophets  are  synonymous ; 
no  other  reading  of  Israel's  past  was  possible,  and  in  fact 
the  whole  history  of  the  Hebrews  in  Canaan,  as  it  was 
finally  shaped  in  the  exile,  is  written  from  this  point  of 
view,  and  has  come  down  to  us,  along  with  the  remains  of 
actual  prophetic  books,  under  the  collective  title  of  "The 
Prophets." 

To  some  extent  this  historical  vindication  of  the  pro- 
phetic insight  went  on  during  the  activity  of  the  prophets 
themselves.  From  the  time  of  Amos  downwards  the  pro- 
phets ,spoke  mainly  at  great  historical  crises,  when  events 
were  moving  fast  and  a  few  years  were  often  sufficient  to 
show  that  they  were  right  and  their  opponent's  wrong  in 
their  reading  of  the  signs  of  the  times.  And  here  the 
controver-jy  did  not  turn  on  the  exact  fulfilment  of  de- 
tailed predictions ;  detailed  prediction  occupies  a  very 
secondary  place  in  the  writings  of  the  prophets ;  or  rather 
indeed  what  seem  to  be  predictions  in  detail  are  usually 
only  free  poetical  illustrations  of  historical  principles  which 
neither  received  nor  demanded  exact  fulfilment.  Isaiah, 
for  example,  in  the  time  of  Ahaz  sketches  the  fatal  results 
of  Assyrian  intervention,  and  pictures  the  sufferings  of 
Judah  when  it  should  become  the  battlefield  of  the  rival 
empires  of  the  Tigris  and  the  Nile,  in  a  way  that  was  by 
no  means  realized  in  detail ;  but  this  does  not  affect  the 
fact  that  he  alone  in  Judah  had  correctly  appreciated  the 
historical  situation,  and  that  he  did  so  not  because  he 
was  a  better  statesman  than  his  opponents,  but  because 
he  had  a  different  conception  of  the  religious  significance 
of  the  crisis.  All  through  the  prophetic  period  it  was 
plain  that  the  true  prophets  differed  from  the  mere  pro- 
fessional prophets  and  statesmen  in  their  view  of  the 
political  duties  and  prospects  of  the  nation  because  they 
had  a  different  idea,  or,  as  they  themselves  would  have 
said,  a  truer  knowledge,  of  God,  and  so  the  prophets  and 
their  successors — notably  Isa.  xl.-lxvi. — look  on  the  event 
of  Israel's  history,  not  so  much  as  proving  that  Isaiah  or 
Jeremiah  was  a  true  prophet,  but  as  proving  that  the 
Jehovah  of  the  prophets  is  the  true  God,  whose  word 
cannot  return  to  Him  void,  but  must  surely  accomplish 
that  which  He  pleaseth  (Isa.  Iv.  11). 

The  prophets  themselves  required  no  historical  verifica- 
tion of  their  word  to  assure  them  that  it  was  indeed  the 
word  of  God,  nor  do  they  for  a  moment  admit  that  their 
contemporaries  are  entitled  to  treat  its  authority  as  un- 
proved till  such  verification  is  offered.  The  word  of  God 
carries  its  own  evidence  with  it  in  its  searching  force  and 
fire :  "  Is  not  my  word  like  as  a  fire,  saith  Jehovah,  and 
like  a  hammer  that  breaketh  the  rock  in  pieces?"  (Jcr. 
xxiii.  29).  To  the  prophet  himself  it  comes  with  imperi- 
ous force  :  it  constrains  him  to  speak  (Amos  iii.  8),  seizes 
him  with  a  strong  hand  (Isa.  viii.  11),  burns  like  a  fire 
within  his  bones  till  it  finds  utterance  (Jer.  xx.  9) ;  and  it 
js  this  force  of  moral  conviction  which  ought  also  to  com- 
mend it  to  the  conscience  of  his  hearers.  The  word  is 
true  because  it  is  worthy  of  the  true  God.  When  Dent, 
jcviii.  21,  22  seeks  the  legal  criterion  of  true  prophecy  in 
the  fulfilment  of  prediction,  the  writer  is  no  doubt  guided 
by  the  remembrance  of  the  remarkable  confirmation  which 
iho  doctrines  of  s])iritual  prophecy  had  received  in  history 


then  recent,  but  his  criterion  wovdd  have  appeared  inade- 
quate to  the  prophets  themselves,  and  indeed  this  passage 
is  one  of  the  most  striking  proofs  that  to  formulate  the 
principles  of  prophetic  religion  in  a  legal  code  was  an 
impossible  task. 

The  mass  of  the  nation,  of  course,  was  always  much 
more  struck  by  the  "  signs  "  and  predictions  of  the  pro- 
phets than  by  their  spiritual  ideas ;  we  see  how  the  idea 
of  supernatural  insight  and  power  in  everyday  matters 
dominates  the  popular  conception  of  Elijah  and  Elisha  iu 
the  books  of  Kings.  At  a  very  early  date  the  great  pro- 
phets became  a  kind  of  saints  or  welis,  and  the  respect  paid 
to  the  tombs  of  the  prophets,  which  ultimately  took  in 
almost  every  particular  the  place  of  the  old  local  shrines 
(Mat.  xxiii.  29;  Jerome,  Fpit  Pauls,  §  13;  see  Obadlah), 
can  be  traced  back  to  the  time  before  the  exile.* 

After  the  extinction  of  the  prophetic  voice,  an  ever-increasing 
weight  was  not  unnaturally  laid  on  the  predictive  element  in  thciif 
writings.  Their  creative  religious  ideas  had  become  the  commoa 
property  of  religious-minded  Jews,  at  least  in  the  somewhat  im- 
perfect shape  in  which  they  were  embodied  in  the  law,  and  their 
work  on  this  side  was  carried  on  by  the  great  religious  poets.  Butj 
the  restored  community  which  was  still  making  a  sort  of  faint 
attempt  to  be  a  religious  nation  as  well  as  a  church  felt  very  pain- 
fully the  want  of  a  direct  message  from  God  in  critical  times  such 
as  the  prophets  of  old  had  been  wont  to  bring.  And  in  this  need 
men  began  to  look  at  the  prophetic  books,  mainly  in  the  hope  that 
there  might  be  found  in  them  predictions  which  still  awaited  ful- 
filment, and  might  be  taken  as  referring  to  the  latter  days  of  Persian 
or  Greek  oppression.  By  ignoring  the  free  poetical  form  of  •pro- 
phecy, and  still  more  by  ignoring  the  fact  that  the  prophetio 
pictures  of  the  ideal  future  of  Israel  could  not  be  literally  fulfilled 
after  the  fall  of  the  ancient  state  had  entirely  changed  the  sphere 
in  which  the  problems  of  true  religion  had  to  be  worked  out,  it  was 
possible  to  find  a  great  mass  of  unfulfilled  prophecy  which  might 
form  the  basis  of  eschatological  constructions.  'To  use  this  material 
for  the  purpose  in  hand  it  was  necessary  to  symbolize  what  waa 
literal  and  to  literalize  what  was  figurative,  to  harmonize  and  to 
rearrange,  above  all  to  introduce  some  sort  of  prophetical  chrono- 
logy of  future  events.  But  all  this  was  quite  in  the  vein  of  later 
Judaism,  and  so  at  length  the  unfulfilled  predictions  of  the  prophets 
served  as  the  raw  material  for  the  elaborate  cschatology  of  the  apoca- 
lypses. See  Apocalyptic  LiTERATunE  and  Messiah.  In  spite 
of  superficial  resemblances,  mainly  due  to  the  unavoidable  influence 
of  current  e.Tcgetieal  methods,  the  New-Testament  conception  of 
prophecy  as  fulfilled  in  Christ  is  fundamentally  dilTerent  from  the 
Jewish  apocalyptic  view  of  unfulfilled  prophecy.  Not  external 
details  but  the  spiritual  ideas  of  the  propnets  find  their  fulfilment 
in  the  new  dispensation,  and  tliey  do  so  under  forms  entirely 
diverse  from  those  of  the  old  national  kingdom  of  Jehovah. 

Lilfrature. — In  tho  anclcTit  and  mudla'vul  church  and  in  the  dogmatic  period 
of  Protestantism  tlicre  waa  Jlttlo  or  no  attcm|it  at  historical  study  of  prophecy, 
and  the  prophetical  boolcs  were  found  instructive  only  through  the  application  of 
iiUcKoilcul  or  tjpical  execesls.  For  details  tho  reader  may  refer  to  Diestel, 
Ofs^-'iic'ite  <lc5  Altai  Ttitamadt^  Jena.  1809,  and  for  the  final  form  of  orthodox 
rrotest'int  views  to  Wltsius,  l)e  Prophetii  tt  Prophetia.  Tho  crowing  sense  of 
the  Insutficlency  of  this  treatment  towards  the  close  of  the  period  of  doemaUsm 
showed  Itself  In  various  ways.  On  the  one  hand  we  have  the  revlv.il  of  apoca. 
lyplic  exepesls  by  Coccclus  and  his  school,  which  has  continued  to  Intluence 
certain  circles  down  to  tho  pr^so^t  day,  and  has  led  to  the  most  varied  attempts 
to  find  in  prophecy  a  history,  wilttenbcfore  the  events  of  all  the  chief  vlrlssltudis 
of  tho  Chiistlan  church  down  to  tlio  end  of  tho  world.  On  the  other  hand 
Lowth's  l^cittrci  on  I/etjreiD  Potlrtf,  and  tho  same  author's  Commentarn  on  Isaiah 
(1778),  show  the  bcKlnnings  of  a  tendency  to  look  mainly  at  Iho  (esthetic  aspects 
of  the  piophellcal  l)eoks,  and  to  view  the  prophets  us  cntlehtened  rellk'lous  poets. 
This  tendency  culminates  in  Klchhorn,  IMe  /Jebruiscfieti  Propheten,  \h\G.  Neither 
of  these  methods  could  do  mucli  for  tho  historical  undeistundlng  of  the  pheno- 
meno  of  prophecy  as  a  whole,  and  the  more  liberal  students  of  the  Old  Testament 
wcie  long  blinded  by  tho  moiallzlnft  unhlstoncal  rationalism  which  succeeded 
the  old  orthodoxy.  The  tirst  requisite  of  leal  progress,  after  dogmallc  prejudices 
had  been  broken  through,  was  to  get  a  living  conception  of  tho  history  In  whlcii 
the  prophets  moved  ;  ond  this  again  calletl  for  a  revision  of  all  traditional  notions 
as  to  tho  age  of  tho  various  jiHrts  of  Hebrew  lltf  ratnro — criticism  of  the  sources 
of  the  history,  among  which  tho  prophetical  books  themselves  take  the  first  place. 
In  recent  tlini-s  therefore  advance  in  tho  understanding  of  tho  prophets  hoi 
moved  on  pari  pauu  \(M\  IJui  higher  Clltlclsm,  especially  the  criticism  of  the 
Pentateuch,  and  with  tho  gi-neral  study  of  Hebrew  iilsK^y  ;  and  most  works  on 
the  subject  prior  to  Eh  aid  must  be  regarded  as  quite  ontlqualcd  escepl  for  (lie 
light  they  cost  on  detailed  points  of  exegesis.  On  tho  prophets  and  their  works 
in  general  tho  bc«t  book  is  stili  Kwald's  Frophrtfn  dfi  Altai  Bundet  (Isl  cd. 
1840-41,  5d  cd.  1807-68,  Eng.  tr.  1876-77).  1  l.o  subjrct  Is  treated  In  all  works 
on  Olil  Testament  Introduction  (among  which  Kuenen's  Omteriotti.  vol,  II.,  claims 
tho  first  place),  and  on  Old  Testament  tlieology  (see  especially  Vatke,  Itfli^ioii 
dtt  A.  7*.,  1836).  On  the  theology  of  the  prophets  thiTO  Isa  separate  work  bjr 
Duhm,  Ronn,  187fl,  and  Knoliel's  Prophrtismus  itrr  tttbrdrr,  18n7,  Is  a  separato 
Introduction  to  tho  pi-ophetleal  books.     Kuenen's  Proplirtt  and  Prophecy  in  itrart 

'  See  2  Kings  xxiii.  21,  and  also  Dcut.  »xxiv.  6.  So  too  all  tlio 
old  national  heroes  and  heroines  ultimately  became  prophets  ;  in  tlio 
cose  of  Deborah  thero  is  even  a  fuaion  In  local  tradlUoD  between  an 
old  heroine  and  an  historical  seer. 


822 


PROPHET 


<I87d,  Eng.  tr.  1877)  is  in  form  mainlj-  a  criticism  of  tlie  traditional  view  of 
prophecy,  and  sliouid  therefore  be  compared  with  his  On-lerzoek  and  Godsdienst 
van  Israel.  Most  EnplieJi  books  on  the  subject  are  more  theological  than  histori- 
cal, but  a  sketch  of  Hebrew  pi  ophecy  in  connexion  with  the  history  down  to  the 
close  of  the  8th  century  is  civen  by  W.  R.  Smith,  T/te  Prophets  of  Israel,  £din- 
bnrgh,  1882.  A  useful  commentary  On  the  prophetical  books  in  general  forms 
two  volumes  of  Reuss,  La  Bible  (Paris,  1876) ;  the  special  literature  is  referred  to 
in  the  articles  on  the  several  prophets.  The  literature  of  the  theological  questions 
connected  with  prophecy  is  much  too  copious  to  be  cited  here  ;  lists  will  be  found 
in  several  of  the  booka  already  refeiTCd  to.  w.  R.  s.) 

2.  Prophets  in  lite  Christian  Church. — The  appearance  of 
prophets  in  the  first  Christian  communities  is  one  proof  of 
the  strength  of  faith  and  hope  by  which  these  bodies  were 
animated.  An  old  prophecy  (Joel  iii.  1)  had  foretold  that 
in  the  Messianic  age  the  spirit  of  God  would  be  poured 
out  on  every  member  of  the  religious  community,  and  in 
point  of  fact  it  was  the  universal  conviction  of  those  who 
believed  in  Christ  that  they  all  possessed  the  Spirit  of  God. 
This  Spirit,  manifesting  His  presence  in  a  variety  of  ways 
and  through  a  variety  of  gifts,  was  to  be  the  only  ruling 
authority  in  the  church.  He  raised  up  for  Himself  par- 
ticular individuals,  into  whose  mouths  He  put  the  word  of 
God,  and  these  were  at  first  regarded  as  the  true  leaders 
of  the  congregations.  We  find  accordingly  that  there  were 
prophets  in  the  oldest  church,  that  of  Jerusalem  (Acts  xi. 
27 ;  XV.  32),  and  again  that  there  were  "  prophets  and 
teachers  "  in  the  church  at  Antioch  (Acts  xiii.  1).  These 
were  not  ofiice-bearers  chosen  by  the  congregation,  but 
preachers  raised  up  by  the  Spirit  and  conferred  as  gifts  on 
the  church.  AVhen  Paul  says  (1  Cor.  xii.  28 ;  cf.  Eph.  iv'. 
1 1),  "  God  has  set  some  in  the  church,  first  as  apostles, 
second  as  prophets,  third  as  teachers,"  he  points  to  a  state 
of  things  which  in  his  time  prevailed  in  all  the  churches 
both  of  Jewish  and  heathen  origin.  We  here  learn  from 
Paul  that  the  prophets  occupied  the  second  position  in 
point  of  dignity ;  and  we  see  from  another  passage  (1  Cor. 
xiv.)  that  they  were  distinguished  from  the  teachers  by 
their  speaking  under  the  influence  of  inspiration, — not, 
however,  like  the  "speakers  in  tongues,"  in  unintelligible 
ejaculations  and  disconnected  words,  but  in  articulate, 
rational,  edifying  speech.  Until  recently  it  was  impossible 
to  form  any  distinct  idea  of  the  Christian  prophets  in  the 
post-apostolic  age,  not  so  much  from  want  of  materials  as 
because  what  evidence  existed  was  not  sufficiently  clear 
and  connected.  .  It  was  understood,  indeed,  that  they  had 
maintained  their  place  in  the  churches  till  the  end  of  the 
2d  century,  and  that  the  great  conflict  with  what  is 
known  as  Montanism  had  first  proved  fatal  to  them  ;  but  a 
clear  conception  of  their  position  and  influence  in  the 
churches  was  not  to  be  had.  But  the  discovery,  by 
Bryennios,  of  the  ancient  Christian  work  called  AtSaxi) 
TJiJi'  ScuScKa  aTrocTTdXojf  has  immensely  extended  the  range 
of  our  knowledge,  and  has  at  the  same  time  thrown  a  clear 
light  on  many  notices  in  other  sources  which  for  want  of 
proper  interpretation  had  been  previously  neglected  or  in- 
correctly understood.  ■ 

The  most  important  facts  known  at  present  about  the 
manner  of  life,  the  influence,  and  the  history  of  the  early 
Christian  prophets  are  the  following.  (1)  Down  to  the 
close  of  the  2d  century  the  prophets  (or  prophetesses) 
were  regarded  as  an  essential  element  in  a  church  possess- 
ing the  Holy  Ghost.  Their  existence  was  believed  in,  and 
they  did  actually  exist,  not  only  in  the  catholic  congrega- 
tions— if  the  expression  may  be  used — but  also  in  the 
Marcionite  church  and  the  Gnostic  societies.  Not  a  few 
Christian  prophets  are  known  to  us  by  name  ;  as  Agabus, 
Judas,  and  Silas  in  Jerusalem ;  Barnabas,  Simon  Niger, 
&c.,  in  Antioch ;  in  Asia  Minor,  the  daughters  of  Philip, 
Quadratus,  Ammia,  Polycarp,  Melito,  Montanus,  I\Iaximilla, 
and  Priscilla ;  in  Rome,  Hernias ;  among  the  followers  of 
Basilides,  Barkabbas  and  Barkoph ;  in  the  community  of 
Apelleq,  Philumene,  ifec.  Lucian  tells  us  that  the  impostor 
Peregrinus    Proteus,    in    the    time   of    Antoninus   Pius, 


figured  as  a  prophet  in  the  Christian  churches  of  ?>yriu. 
(2)  Till  the  middle  of  the  2d  century  the  prophets  were 
the  regular  preachers  of  the.  churches,  without  being 
attached  to  any  particular  congregation.  '  While  thff 
"apostles"  (i.e.,  itinerating  missionaries)  were  obliged  to 
preach  from  place  to  place,  the  prophets  were  at  liberty 
either,  like  the  teachers,  to  settle  in  a  certain  church  or 
to  travel  from  one  to  another.  (3)  In  the  time  of  Paul 
the  form  of  prophecy  was  reasoned  exhortation  in  a  state 
of  inspiration ;  but  very  frequently  the  inspiration  took, 
the  form  of  ecstasy — the  prophet  lost  control  of  himself, 
so  that  he  did  not  remember  afterwards  what  he  had  said. 
In  the  Gentile-Christian  churches,  under  the  influence  of 
pagan  associations,  ecstasy  was  the  rule.  (4)  With  regard 
to  the  matter  of  prophecy,  it  might  embrace  anythin<f 
that  was  necessary  or  for  the  edification  of  the  church. 
The  prophets  not  only  consoled  and  exhorted  by  tho 
recital  of  what  God  had  done  and  predictions  of  thd 
future,  but  they  uttered  extempore  thanksgivings  in  tho 
congregational  assemblies,  and  delivered  special  directions,' 
which  might  extend  to  the  most  minute  details,  as,  fer 
example,  the  disposal  of  the  church  funds.  (5)  It  was  the 
duty  of  the  prophets  to  follow  in  all  respects  the  example 
of  the  Lord  (ex'"'  '^°^''  rpoTrov;  tov  Kvplov),  and  to  put  ill 
practice  what  they  preached.  But  an  ascetic  life  was 
expected  of  them  only  when,  like  the  apostles,  they  went 
about  as  missionariee,  in  which  case  the  rules  in  Jlat.  x. 
applied  to  them.  Whenever,  on  the  contrary,  they  settled 
in  a  place  they  had  a  claim  to  a  liberal  maintenance 
at  the  hands  of  the  congregation.  The  author  of  the 
AiSa^^  even  compares  them  to  the  high  priests  of  tho 
Old  Testament,  and  considers  them  entitled  to  the  first- 
fruits  of  the  Levitical  law.  In  reality,  they  might  justly 
be  compared  to  the  priests  in  so  far  as  they  were  the 
mouthpieces  of  tlie  congregation  in  public  thanksgiving. 
(6)  Since  prophets  were  regarded  as  a  gift  of  God  and  as 
moved  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  individual  congregation  had 
no  right  of  control  over  them.  When  anyone  was  ap- 
proved as  a  prophet  and  exhibited  the  "  conversation  of  the 
Lord,"  no  one  was  permitted  to  put  him  to  the  test  or  to 
criticize  him.  The  author  of  the  AtSa^v  goes  so  far  as  to 
assert  that  whoever  does  this  is  guilty  of  the  sin  against 
the  Holy  Ghost.  (7)  This  unique  position  of  the  prophets 
could  only  be  maintained  so  long  as  the  original  enthu- 
siasm remained  fresh  and  vigorous.  From  three  quarters 
primitive  Christian  prophecy  was  exposed  to  danger, — 
first,  from  the  permanent  ofiicials  of  the  congregation,  who,' 
in  the  interests  of  order,  peace,  and  security  could  not  but 
look  with  suspicion  on  the  activity  of  excited  prophets ; 
second,  from  the  prophets  themselves,  in  so  far  as  an  in- 
creasing number  of  dishonest  characters  was  found  amongst 
them,  whose  object  was  to  levy  contributions  on  the 
churches  j^  third,  from  those  prophets  who  were  filled  with 
the  stern  spirit  of  primitive  Christianity  and  imposed  on 
churches,  now  becoming  assimilated  to  the  world,  obliga- 
tions which  these  were  neither  able  nor  willing  to  fulfil.  It 
is  from  this  point  of  view  that  we  must  seek  to  understand 
the  so-called  Montanistic  crisis.  Even  the  author  of  the 
AiSa^v  finds  it  necessary  to  defend  the  prophets  who 
practised  celibacy  and  strict  asceticism  against  the  depre- 
ciatory criticism  of  church  members  In  Asia  ]\Iinor  there 
was  already  in  the  year  1 60  a  party,  called  by  Epiplianius 
"  Alogi,"  who  rejected  all  Christian  prophecy.  On  tho 
other  hand,  it  was  also  in  Asia  Minor  that  there  appeared 
along  with  Montanus  those  energetic  prophetesses  who 
charged  the  churches  and  their  bishops  and  deacons  with 
becoming  secularized,  and  endeavoured   to  prevent  Chris- 

*  See  Lucian's  story  aliout  Peregrinus,  ami  that  chapter  ol'  I'.io 
Atiaxv  where  tlie  author  labours  to  establish  criteria  for  distini;ui.sli-. 
ing  false  prophets  from  true. 


iMi  u  — r  ii  o 


823 


tianity  from  being  naturalized  in  the  world,  and  to  bring 
tbe  churches  once  more  under  the  exclusive  guidance  of 
the  Spirit  and  His  charismata.  The  critical  situation  thus 
arising  spread  in  the  course  of  a  few  decades  over  most  of 
tbo  provincial  churches.  The  necessity  of'  resisting  the 
ineAorablc  demands  of  the  prophets  led  to  the  introduction 
of  new  rules  for  distinguishing  true  and  false  prophets.  No 
prophet,  it  was  declared,  could  speak  in  ecstasy, — that 
was  devilish ;  further,  only  false  prophets  accepted  gifts. 
Both  canons  were  innovations,  designed  to  strike  a  fatal 
blow  at  pro|)hecy  and  the  church  organization  re-established 
by  the  prophets  in  Asia, — the  bishops  not  being  quite  pre- 
pared to  declare  boldly  that  the  church  had  no  further 
need  of  prophets.  But  the  prophets  would  not  have  been 
suppressed  by  their  new  methods  of  judging  them  alone. 
A  much  more  important  circumstance  was  the  rise  of  a  new 
theory,  according  to  which  all  divine  revelations  were 
summed  up  in  the  apostles  or  in  their  writings.  It  was 
now  taught  that  prophecy  in  general  was  a  peculiarity  of 
the  Old  Testarae..t  ("  lex  et  prophetK  usque  ad  Johannem  " ) ; 
that  in  the  new  covenant  God  had  spoken  only  through 
apostles  ;  that  the  whole  word  of  God  so  far  as  binding  on 
the  church  was  contained  in  the  apostolic  record — the  New 
Testament ;  ^  and  that,  consequently,  the  church  neither 
required  nor  could  acknowledge  new  revelations,  or  even 
instructions,  through  prophets.  The  revolution  which 
this  theory  gradually  brought  about  is  shown  in  the  trans- 
formation of  the  religious,  enthusiastic  organization  of  the 
church  into  a  legal  and  political  constitution.  A  great 
many  things  had  to  bo  sacrificed  to  this,  and  amongst 
others  the  old  prophets.  The  strictly  enforced  episcopal 
constitution,  the  creation  of  a  clerical  order,  and  the  for- 
mation of  the  New  Testament  canon  accomplished  the 
overthrow  of  the  prophets.  Instead  of  the  old  formula, 
"God  continually  confers  on  the  church  apostles,  prophets, 
and  teachers,"  the  word  now  was — "The  church  is  founded 
in  the  (written)  word  of  the  prophets  (i.e.,  the  Old-Testa- 
ment prophets)  and  the  apostles  (viz.,  the  twelve  and 
Paul)."  After  the  beginning  of  the  3d  century  there 
were  still  no  doubt  men  under  the  control  of  the  hierarchy 
who  experienced  the  prophetic  ecstasy,  or  clerics  like 
Cyprian  who  professed  to  have  received  special  directions 
from  God ;  but  prophets  by  vocation  no  longer  existed, 
and  these  sporadic  utterances  were  in  no  sense  placed  on  a 
level  wifh  the  contents  of  the  sacred  Scriptures. 

See  Buckmaun,  "  Ueber  dio  Wunderkriifto  bei  den  crsten 
Christen  uiid  ihr  Erloschen,"  in  tlio  Ztschr.  f.  d.  yes.  lulher. 
Tlieol.  u.  Kirchc,  1878,  p.  216-255  (learned  but  utterly  uncritical) ; 
Bouvetsch,  "Dio  Prophetio  im  apostol.  und  nachapostol.  Zeitalter," 
in  the  Ztschr.  f.  kirchl.  Wissensck.  !t.  kirchl.  Lcbcn,  1884,  part  8, 
p.  408  tj.,  part  9,  p.  460  srj.;  Harnack,  Die  Lchre  der  zwolf  Jipostel, 
1884,  p.  93-137.  (A.  HA.) 

PROSELYTE  (tpoo-jJXvtos)  is  the  term  most  frequently 
adopted  by  the  Septuagint,  esjjecially  in  legal  passages,  to 
represent  the  Hebrew  n;.  The  gcr,  or  more  fully  gcr 
w'toshab,  is  not  any  "  stranger  "  but  a  stranger  dwelling  in 
a  Hebrew  community  and  enjoying  a  certain  measure  of 
protection.  In  old  time  at  least  the  position  of  such  a 
stranger  was  no  doubt  very  inscciire,  for  ho  had  no  strong 
kinsmen  to  tako  his  part,  and  so,  like  the  widow  and 
orphan,  with  whom  many  passages  of  the  Old  Testament 
associato  him,  ho  was  liable  to  oppression.  The  law  as 
well  as  tho  prophets  commend  him  to  the  humane  regard 
of  his  neighbours,  but  it  would  have  been  quite  foreign 
to  antique  ideas  to  grant  him  equal  rights  (.sno  Lev.  xxv. 
4.5  ;  Deut.  xxiii.  20).  Like  tho  Arabic  jJr,  therefore 
(whose  name  is  at  bottom  tho  same),  ho  must  Lave  gene- 
rally sought  to  attach  himself  as  a  client  to  some  indi- 
vidual or  community  able  to  protect  him,  and  so  wc  must 

■  Tho  Ajiocaljiisc  of  Jolui  \vim  received  into  it,  not  as  tho  work  of 
»  wophet,  but  as  tli.it  of  an  apostle. 


understand  the  metanhor  in   passages   like   Ps.    xv.    1. 
jocxi.x.  12, 

In  the  old  Hebrew  kingdom  the  word  ger  had  a  civil 
not  a  religious  significance,  and  it  wovdd  almost  seem  that 
a  poor  Israelite  without  inheritance  might  sink  to  tint 
position,  which  indeed  is  scarcely  distinguishable  from 
that  of  the  Levite  in  Jud.  xvii.  8,  who  went  forth  to 
sojourn  (gilr)  where  he  might  find  a  place.  The  exile  and 
the  restoration  made  a  change  in  this  as  in  all  other 
aspects  of  Hebrew  society.  On  the  one  hand  Ezekiel 
xlvii.  22  and  Isa.  xiv.  1  contemplate  that  the  restored 
nation  shall  be  recruited  by  strangers  who  are  received  on 
equal  terms ;  but,  as  the  Jews  returned  not  as  an  inde- 
pendent nation  but  as  a  distinct  reUgious  community, 
this  implies  especially  that  the  sons  of  the  stranger,  by 
joining  Israel,  observing  the  Sabbath,  and  holding  fast  to 
Jehovah's  covenant,  may  gain  admission  to  all  the  privi- 
leges of  the  temple  and  its  worship.  So  it  is  put  in  Isa 
Ivi.  6,  7  in  marked  contrast  to  the  restrictions  laid  down  in 
Deut.  xxiii.  3,  7  sq.  That  the  views  of  the  prophets  had 
practical  issue  cannot  be  doubted  ;  even  the  foreign  Nethi- 
nim  in  the  second  temple  were  rapidly  transformed  not 
merely  into  good  Israelites  but  into  Levite.s.  The  condi- 
tion of  admission  to  the  full  privileges  of  an  Israelite,  in 
particular  to  the  passover,  is,  according  to  the  Priestly 
Code  (Exod.  xii.  48;  Numb.  ix.  14),  circumcision, — to 
which  the  later  Jewish  usage  adds  lustration  by  immer- 
sion in  water  (baptism,  t'Ulla)  and  the  presentation  of  a 
sacrifice  (korhdn).  The  immersion,  about  which  there 
has  been  a  good  deal  of  controversy,  some  maintaining 
'that  it  came  into  use  later  than  Christian  baptism,  was 
really  a  necessary  act  for  one  who  had  been  previously 
unclean,  and  may  be  held  to  be  involved  in  the  general 
Pentateuchal  law  of  ceremonial  washings.  The  later 
technical  name  for  a  heathen  who  thus  joined  the  theo- 
cracy was  pnvn  13,  "proselyte  of  righteousness." 

The  free  admission  of  foreigners  to  the  Jewish  church 
is  a  mark  of  the  universalistic  tendency  which,  in  spite  of 
all  the  narrownesses  of  Judaism  under  the  law,  accom- 
panied the  break-up  of  the  old  national  system.  On  the 
other  hand  the  so-called  Law  of  Holiness  (later  than  Ezekiel 
but  earlier  than  the  Priestly  Code),  which  is  contained  in 
Lev.  xvii.  sq.,  presents  a  different  line  of  transition  from 
the  purely  civil  to  the  religious  meaning  of  gcr.  In  theso 
laws,  which  proceed  throughout  on  the  principle  that 
Israel,  and  all  that  has  to  do  with  Israel,  must  bo  regu- 
lated by  regard  to  formal  holiness,  it  is  demanded  that 
certain  rules  shall  be  enforced  not  only  on  Israelites  proper 
but  on  strangers  sojourning  in  their  land.  They  are  not 
to  cat  blood  (xvii.  10),  tonimit  incest  (xviii.  2G),  sacrifice 
to  Moloch  (xx.  2),  or  blaspheme  Jehovah  (xxiv.  IG) ;  and 
for  murder  and  other  crimes  they  are  to  be  answerable  to 
tho  Hebrew  authorities  according  to  Hebrew  law  (xxiv. 
22).  These  rules  arc  in  substance — the  third  being  ex- 
tended to  a  prohibition  of  idolatry  generally — the  "Noachio 
laws"  to  which  in  later  u.sage  a  man  or  woman  might  pro- 
mise to  conform  and  thereby,  without  becoming  a  regular 
member  of  the  theocracy,  be  recognized  as  a  "  proselyte  of 
tho  gate,"  i.e.,  "within  the  gates  of  Israel."  What  the 
Law  of  Holiness  proposed  to  enforce  became  in  fact — the 
theocracy  not  pos,scssing  political  power  over  strangers—- 
a  voluntary  obligation  assumed  by  those  "who  worshippwl 
God"  (a-(fi6ix(voi  Toi/  Otuvj  Acts  xiii.  60,  xvi.  14,  xvii.  i, 
17,  xviii.  7— in  E.V.  often  rendered  "devout"). 

Tho  proselytizing  zeal  of  the  Jews  is  spoken  of  in  Mat. 
xxiii.  1.5,  and  by  many  Greik  nnd  Latin  writers.  Up  to 
tho  time  of  Hadrian  it  was  facilitated  by  the  favour  gene- 
rally extended  to  tho  Jews  by  the  Roman  emperors  ;  and 
not  only  on  Semitic  soil,  as  at  Dama.scus,  where  Josephu^t 
tells  us  that  most   of   the   women    were  iiruselyte.",  but 


824 


P  R  O  — r  K  O 


throughout  the  Roman  world  many  converts  were  made, 
especially  among  women.  The  most  noted  conversion  was 
that  of  the  royal  house  of  Adiabene  (Josephus,  Ant.,  xx.  2), 
of  which  the  splendid  tomb  of.  Queen  Helena,  a  little  way 
outside  of  Jerusalem,  stiU  remains  a  monument. '' 

PROSERPINE  {Proserpina)  is  the  Latin  form  of  Per- 
BEPHONE,!  a  Greek  goddess,  daughter  of  Zeus  and  the 
earth-goddess  Demeter.  In  Greek  mythology  Demeter 
and  Proserpine  were  closely  associated,  being  known  to- 
gether is  the  two  goddesses,  the  venerable  or  august  god- 
desses, sometimes  as  the  great  goddesses.  Proserpine 
herself  was  commonly  known  as  the  daughter  (Core), 
sometimes  as  the  first-born.  As  she  was  gathering  flowers 
with  her  playmates  in  a  meadow,  the  earth  opened  and 
Pluto,  god  of  the  dead,  appeared  and  carried  her  ofi  to  be 
his  queen  in  the  world  below.  This  legend  was  localized 
in  various  places,  as  at  Eleusis,  Lerna,  and  "  that  fp.ir  field 
of  Enna"  in  Sicily.  Torch  in  hand,  her  sorrowing  mother 
sought  her  through  the  wide  world,  and  finding  her  not 
she  forbade  the  earth  to  put  forth  its  increase.  So  all 
that  year  not  a  blade  of  corn  grew  on  the  earth,  and  men 
would  have  died  of  hunger  if  Zeus  had  not  persuaded 
Pluto  to  let  Proserpine  go.  P)Ut  before  he  let  her  go 
Pluto  made  her  eat  the  seed  of  a  pomegranate,  and  thus 
she  could  not  stay  away  from  him  for  ever.-  So  it  was 
arranged  that  she  should  spend  two-thirds  (according  to 
later  authors,  one-half)  of  every  year  with  her  mother  and 
the  heavenly  gods,  and  should  pass  the  rest  of  the  year 
with  Pluto  beneath  the  earth.  There  can  be  little  doubt 
that  this  is  a  mythological  expression  for  the  growth  of 
vegetation  in  spring  and  its  disappearance  in  autumn. 
According  to  Theopompus  there  was  a  Western  people  who 
actually  called  the  spring  Proserpine.  As  wife  of  Pluto, 
she  sent  spectres,  ruled  the  ghosts,  and  carried  into  effect 
the  curses  of  men.  The  lake  of  Avernus,  as  an  entrance 
to  the  infernal  regions,  was  sacred  to  her.  From  the  head 
of  a  dying  person  Proserpine  was  supposed  to  cut  a  lock 
of  hair  which  had  been  kept  sacred  and  unshorn  through 
life.^  «■  She  was  sometimes  identified  with  Hecate.  On 
the  other  hand  in  her  character  of  goddess  of  the  spring 
ihe  was  honoured  with   flower-fe?tivals  in  Sicily  and  at 

'  Some,  however,  regard  Proserpina  as  a  native  Latia  form,  not 
borrowed  from  the  Greek. 

'  The  idea  that  persons  who  Iiave  made  their  way  to  tlie  ahoile  of 
the  dead  can  return  to  the  upper  world  if  they  have  not  Lasted  the 
food  of  the  dead  appears  elsewhere,  as  in  New  Zealand  (R.  Taylor, 
New  Zealand,  pp.  233,  271). 

•  u^n.,  iv.  698  sj.  It  appears  to  have  been  a  Gieek  custom  to  cut 
•  lock  of  hair  from  a  dead  man's  head,  and  hang  it  outside  of  the 
house  door,  in  tolien  that  there  was  a  corpse  in  the  house.  At  lea-.t 
this  seems  a  fair  inference  from  Eurip,,  Ale,  75,  76,  101-4.  The 
lock  so  cut  may  have  been  that  which  was  kept  sacred  to  tlie  gods  and 
unshorn  {Elym.  Hag.,  s.v.,  airecricoXuyUMtVos).  For  ex.ahiples  of  hair 
dcJicoted  to  ggds,  see  11.,  xxiii.  141  sq.;  Plut.,  Thes.,  5;  Tans., 
viii.  20,  3.  In  Tibet  a  lama  (priest)  is  called  in  to  cut  olf  some  hairs 
from  the  head  of  a  dying  person,  in  order  that  his  soul  may  escajie 
through  the  top  of  his  head,  which  is  deemed  .an  essential  condition 
of  a  good  transmigi-ation  (Hor.ice  de  la  Penna,  in  Bogle  and  Manning's 
Travels  in  Tibet).  We  can  hardly  doubt  that  the  intention  of  tlje 
Graeco-Roman  custom  w.as  similar.  In  modern  Greece  the  god  of 
death,  Charos,  is  supposed  to  draw  the  soul  out  of  tlie  body,  and  if 
«  man  resists  the  Arachobites  believe  that  Cliaros  slits  open  his  breast 
(B.  Schmidt,  Volkshbcn  der  Keitgriechen,  p.  22S).  There  are  other 
instances  of  incisions  made  in  the  body  of  a  dying  person  to  allow  his 
»oul  to  escape  (cp.  Bastian,  Mensch,  ii.  342).  'I'he  custom  probably 
dttes  from  the  times  when  death  in  battle  was  the  usual  death.  In 
the  legend  of  Nisus  and  Scylla  there  is  a  trace  of  the  custom  which 
Wis  still  observed  in  classical  times  in  the  sacrilii'e  of  animals.  The 
practice  of  cutting  off  the  hair  of  the  dead  prevailed  in  India,  thon.ah 
it  does  not  ajipear  in  the  Vedas  (Monier  Williams,  Rclirjimis  T!wii;ilit 
«nd  Li/c  in  India,  p.  281).  We  are  reminded  of  tlie  practice  of  the 
Pawnees  and  other  North  American  Indians,  who  shaved  the  hcml 
with  the  exception  of  one  lock  (the  scalp-Iock),  which  was  removed 
by  a  victorious  enemy  (Catlin,  Norlh  Amencnn  Indians,  vol.  ii. 
p.  24).  The  Sandwich  Islanders  also  cut  a  lock  from  a  slain  foe 
(Ellis,  Pol.  ftes..  vol.  iv.  p.  liQ/. 


Hippouium  in  Italy.  Sicily  was  a  favourite  haunt  of  tho 
two  goddesses,  and  ancient  tradition  affirmed  that  tho 
whole  island  was  sacred  to  them.  The  Sicilians  claimed 
to  be  the  first  on  whom  Demeter  had  bestowed  the  gift  of 
corn,  and  hence  they  honoured  the  two  goddesses  with 
many  festlva's.  They  celebrated  the  festival  of  Demeter 
when  the  corn  began  to  shoot,  and  the  descent  of  Proser- 
pine when  it  was  ripe.  At  Cyare,  a  fountain  near  Syra- 
cuse which  Pluto  made  to  spring  up  when  he  carried  off 
his  bride,  the  Syracusians  held  an  annual  festival  in  the 
course  of  which  bulls  were  sacrificed  by  being  drowned  in 
the  water.  At  Cyzicus  also,  in  Asia  Jlinor,  bulls  were 
sacrificed  to  Proserpine.  Demeter  and  Proserpine  were 
worshipped  together  by  the  Athenians  at  the  greater  and 
less  Eleusinian  festivals,  held  in  autumn  and  spring 
respectively.  In  the  Eleusinian  mysteries  Proserpine  no 
doubt  played  an  important  part  (see  Eleusinia  and 
Mysteries).  One  Greek  writer,  Achemachus,  identified 
Proserpine  with  the  Egj-ptian  Isis.  At  Rome  Proserpine 
was  associated  with  Ceres  (the  Roman  representative  of 
Demeter)  in  the  festival  of  the  Cerealia  (April  12  to  19), 
she  was  represented  as  the  wife  of  Dis  Pater  (the  Roman 
Pluto),  and  was  sometimes  identified  with  the  native  Latin 
goddess  Libera.  The  pomegranate  was  Proserpine's 
symbol,  and  the  pigeon  and  cock  were  sacred  to  her. 
Her  votaries  abstained  from  the  flesh  of  domestic  fowls, 
fish,  beans,  pomegranates,  and  apples.  In  works  of  art 
she  appears  with  a  cornucopia  or  with  ears  of  corn  and  a 
cock.  The  regular  form  of  her  name  in  Greek  was  Per- 
sephone, but  various  other  forms  occur — Phersephonc, 
Persephassa,  Phersephassa,  Pherrephatta,  ic,  to  explain 
which  diff'erent  etymologies  were  invented.  Correspond- 
ing to  Proserpine  as  goddess  of  the  dead  is  the  old  Norse 
goddess  Jlel  (Gothic  Ha/j'a),  whom  Saxo  Grammaticus  calls 
Proserpine.  (j.  a.  fr.) 

PROSKUROFF,  a  district  town  of  the  government  of 
Podolia,  Russia,  situated  on  the  railway  from  Odessa  to 
Lem^erg,  G2  miles  to  the  north-west  of  Schmerinka  junction, 
and  on  the  highway  from  Zhitomir  to  Kieff.  It  is  poorly 
built,  mostly  of  wood,  on  a  low  marshy  plain  surrounded 
by  hills,  at  the  junction  of  the  Ploskaya  with  the  Bug. 
Its  old  castle  has  been  destroyed,  the  site  being  occupied 
by  a  Catholic  church.  The  Orthodox  cathedral  (1839) 
contains  a  very  ancient  and  highly  venerated  icon  of 
the  Virgin.  The  manufactures  are  insignificant^  but  the 
Jewish  merchants  carry  on  an  active  export  trade  in  corn 
and  sugar,  while  the  imports  consist  of  salt  and  various 
manufactured  wares.  Agriculture  and  market-gardening 
are  the  chief  occupations  of  its  Little-Russian  inhabitants. 
Of  the  population  (11,750  in  18S0)  more  than  one-half 
are  Jews.  , 

PROSPER  OF  Aquit.\ine  (AQtJiTAJurs,  or  Aquitanictjs), 
a  Christian  prose  and  verse  writer  of  the  first  half  of  the  5th 
century.  Of  his  personal  history  almost  nothing  is  known ; 
his  surname  seems  to  imply  that  he  was  a  native  of  Aqui- 
tania,  and  there  are  various  indications  that  he  was  edu- 
cated as  a  "  rhetorician."  While  still  comparatively  young 
he  gave  himself  to  a  religious  and  ascetic  life,  and' at 
Marseilles  soon  made  himself  prominent  as  a  champion  of 
orthodoxy  in  the  controversy  with  the  Massilians  or  Semi- 
Pelagians.  In  this  connexion  he  opened  a  correspondence 
Avith  Augustine,  along  with  his  friend  Hilarius  (c  429 
A.D.),  and  about  the  same  time  (c.  430)  he  composed  an 
hexameter  poem  of  ujiwards  of  one' thousand 'lines, 
■Ativerszis  Jniiratox,  a  glowing  polemic  against  the  Pelagian.'. 
After  Augustine's  death  he  wrote  Pro  Av^vstino  •■lie- 
"fponsiones,  and  about  431  he  visited  Rome,  still  in' the 
interests  of  Augustinianism,  eliciting  from  Pope  Celestine 
his  Eiiisdila  ad  E/iucopos  Gallnrvm  against  Cassianus. 
There  arc  some  indications  that  tho  latter  years  of  his  lilo 


P  R  0  — P  R  O 


825 


were  spent  in  Eome,  and  that  he  ■wrote  his  Chronicon 
there.  The  year  of  his  death  is  unknown ;  the  chronicle 
is  brought  down  to  455.' 

Prosper'3  enthusiastic  admiration  for  Angustine  (to  whom,  how- 
ever, he  was  not  personally  known)  led  him  to  make  an  abridg- 
ment of  that  author's  commentary  on  the  Psalms,  as  well  as  a 
collection  of  sentences  for  his  works, — probably  the  first  dogmatic 
compilation  of  the  class  in  which  the  Liber  SenteiUiarum  is  the  best 
known  example.  Some  of  Augustine's  theological  dicta  he  also 
put  into  elegiac  metre  (one  hundred  and  six  epigrams).  Prosner's 
Chronicon  is  of  value  from  the  year  29  a.d.  onwards,  some  of  the 
sources  which  he  used  for  that  period  beln^  no  longer  extant.  The 
best  edition  of  the  Opera  is  the  Benedictine  by  Lo  Brun  and 
Mangeant  (ParLs,  1711),  reprinted  in  Migne's  collection. > 

PROSSNITZ  (Slavonic,  Prostejov),  the  chief  place  in 
the  fertile  district  of  the  Hanna,  in  Moravia,  Austria,  is 
situated  on  the  small  river  Rumza,  11  miles  south-west 
of  Olmiitz.  It  carries  on  manufactures  of  sugar,  cotton, 
and  linen,  and  is  an  important  centre  for  the  sale  of  the 
barley  and  other  produce  of  the  Hanna.  It  is  a  town 
of  ancient  origin  and  in  the  16th  century  was  one  of  the 
chief  seats  of  the  Moravian  Brethren.  Population  in  1880, 
16,751. 

PROTAGORAS  of  Abdera,  the  first  of  the  so-called 
Sophists, — who,  about  the  middle  of  the  5th  century  B.C., 
asserted  throughout  Greece  the  claims  of  education  or 
culture  in  opposition  on  the  one  hand  to  technical  instruc- 
tion and  on  the  other  to  physical  research, — was  an  older 
contemporary  of  Socrates.  At  the  age  of  seventy,  having 
been  accused  and  convicted  of  atheism,  Protagoras 'fled 
from  Athens,  and  on  his  way  to  Sicily  was  lost  at  sea. 
His  birth  has  been  plausibly  assigned  to  481  and  his 
death  to  411  B.C.  Forty  years  of  his  life  were  spent  in 
the  exercise  of  his  popular  and  lucrative  profession  in  the 
principal  cities  of  Greece  and  Sicily.  According  to  Plato 
\Prot.,  318  E),  he  endeavoured  to  communicate  to  his 
pupils  "good  counsel  or  prudence  (eijSouXta),  which  should 
lit  them  to  manage  their  households,  and  to  take  part  by 
.•word  and  deed  in  civic  aiiairs."  In  short,  he  professed 
not  to  "  instruct "  but  to  "  educate."  Further,  the  educa- 
tion which  he  provided  was  of  a  literary  sort, — oratory, 
grammar,  style,  and  the  interpretation  of  the  poets  being 
among  the  subjects  which  he  used  as  instruments.  His 
formal  lectures  were  supplemented  by  discussions  among.st 
his  pupils.  He  left  behind  him  several  treatises,  of  which 
fluly  two  or  three  sentences  have  survived.  In  Truth,  by 
[way  of  justifying  his  rejection  of  philosophy  or  science, 
he  maintained  that  "man  is  the  measure  of  all  thing.s — 
of  what  is,  that  it  is,  and  of  what  is  not,  that  it  is  not."* 
Besides  Truth,  and  the  book  Of  the  Gods  which  caused  his 
condemnation  at  Athens,  Diogenes  Laortius  attributes  to 
him  treatises  on  political,  ethical,  educational,  and  rhetorical 
subjects. 

On  the  significance  of  the  Sophistical  movement,  and  the  part 
which  Protagoras  took  in  promoting  it,  as  well  as  for  bibliograjihi- 
cal  information,  see  Soi'liiSTs. 

PROTECTION.  See  Free  Teade  and  Political 
Economy. 

PROTESTANTENVEREIN  is  the  name  of  a  society 
in  Germany  the  general  object  of  which  is  to  promote  the 
union  and  the  progress  of  the  various  established  Pro- 
testant churches  of  the'  country  in  harmony  with  the 
advance  of  culture  and  on  the  basis  of  Christianity.  It 
was  founded  at  Frankfort-onthe-Main  in  1863  by  a 
number  of  distinguished  clergymen  and  laymen  of  liberal 
tendencies,  representing  the  freer  parties  of  the  Lutheran 
and  Reformed  churches  of  the  various  German  states, 
amongst  whom  were  the  statesmen  Bluntschli  and  Von 
Bonnigsen  and  the  professors,  Rothe,  Kwald,  Schenkcl, 
Uilgenfeld,  and  Hitzig.     The  more  special  objects  of  the 

^  Tlio  exposition  of  this  maxim  contained  in  Pinto's  Thcatetiis, 
152  C  sj.,  is  plainly  not  to  bo  ascribed  to  Protagoras. 


association  are  the  following : — the  development  of  the 
churches  on  the  basis  of  a  representative  parochial  and 
synodal  system  of  government  in  which  the  laity  shall 
enjoy  their  full  rights ;  the  promotion  of  a  federation  of 
all  the  churches  in  one  national  church ;  resistance  to  all 
hierarchical  tendencies  both  within  and  without  the  Pro- 
testant churches ;  the  promotion  of  Christian  toleration 
and  mutual  respect  amongst  the  various  confessions ;  the 
rousing  and  nurture  of  the  Christian  life  and  of  aU 
Christian  works  necessary  for  the  moral  strength  and 
prosperity  of  the  natun.  These  objects  include  opposition 
to  the  claims  of  Rome  and  to  autocratic  interference  with 
the  church  on  the  part  of  either  political  or  ecclesiastical 
authorities,  efforts  to  induce  the  laity  to  claim  and 
exercise  their  privileges  as  members  of  the  church,  the 
assertion  of  the  right  of  the  clergy,  laity,  and  both  lay  and 
clerical  professors  to  search  for  and  proclaim  freely  the 
truth  in  independence  of  the  creeds  and  the  letter  of 
Scripture.  When  the  association  waa  first  formed  the 
necessity  for  it  was  felt  to  be  great.  The  separation 
between  the  Calvinistic  and  the  Lutheian  churches  on  the 
one  hand,  and  between  the  churches  of  the  various  states 
on  the  other,  even  when  the  former  separation  had  been 
bridged  over  by  the  Prussian  Union  ;  the  entire  absence  of 
any  satisfactory  system  of  church  government,  the  autocratic 
authority  of  either  the  monarch  or  his  ministers,  or  of  the 
clergy,  being  supreme ;  the  increasing  encroachments  of 
the  papal  power  upon  the  rights  of  the  individual  and  the 
state ;  the  growing  estrangement  of  the  educated  classes 
from  the  church  on  the  one  hand,  with  the  manifestation 
of  either  ignorance  of  the  fact  or  a  determination  to  meet 
it  with  bitter  denunciation  on  the  part  of  the  orthodox 
clergy  on  the  other,  were  regarded  as  urgent  calls  to 
action  by  the  liberals.  Membership  in  the  association  is 
open  to  all  Germans  who  are  Protestants  and  declare  their 
willingness  to  cooperate  in  pronooting  its  objects.  To 
facilitate  its  operations,  the  general  association  is  broken 
up  into  a  few  groups  or  societies  confined  to  certain  geo- 
graphical areas.  Every  second  year  (at'  first  every  year) 
general  meetings  of  the  entire  association  are  held  at  some 
convenient  place.  At  first  the  governing  committee  had 
its  permanent  seat  at  Heidelberg,  but  in  1874  Berlin,  as 
the  new  capital  of  the  empire,  was  chosen.  The  means 
used  to  promote  the  objects  aimed  at  are  mainly  (1)  the 
formation  of  local  branch  associations  throughout  the 
country,  the  duty  of  which  is  by  lectures,  meetings,  and 
the  distribution  of  suitable  literature  to  make  known  and 
advocate  its  principles,  and  (2)  the  holding  of  great  annual 
or  biennial  meetings  of  the  whole  association,  at  whiili  its 
objects  Snd  principles  are  expounded  and  applied  to  the 
circumstances  of  the  church  at  the  moment.  The  "theses" 
accepted  by  the  general  meetings  of  the  association  as  the 
result  of  the  discussions  on  the  papers  read  indicate  the 
theological  position  of  its  members.  The  following  may 
serve  as  illustrations  : — 

The  creeds  of  tlio  Protestant  church  shnt  tho  doors  on  the  past 
only,  but  open  tlicm  fir  advance  in  tlie  future ;  it  is  iininoial  aud 
contrary  to  true  Protestantism  to  require  subscription  to  them. 
The  limits  of  the  freedom  of  teaching  arc  not  prescribed  by  tho  letter 
of  Scripture,  but  a  fun dii mental  rctjuironiont  of  Protestantism  is  free 
inquiry  in  niid  about  the  Scriptures.  Tlie  nttonipt  to  limit  tlio 
fri'dloni  of  tlieologicr.l  inquiry  and  teaching  in  the  univorsitii's  is  a 
violation  of  the  vital  principle  of  Protestantism.  Only  such  con- 
ceptions of  the  iierson  of  Jesus  can  satisfy  tho  religious  neiessitica 
of  this  ago  as  fully  recognize  the  idea  of  his  humanity  and  place  in 
history.  The  higher  reason  only  lias  unconditional  iiutliority,  and 
tho  Bible  must  justify  il.self  before  its  tribunal  ;  we  find  the  history 
of  divine  revelation  and  its  fulfilment  in  tho  liible  nloiu',  and  reason 
bids  us  regard  the  Itiblo  as  tho  onlv  authority  and  ciinon  in  matters 
of  religious  beliff 

The  formation  of  tho  association  at  onco  provoked  tierce 
and  determined  opposition  en  the  i>.irt  of  tho  orthodox 
sections  of  the  church,  particularly  in   Berlin.     Attcmpta 


826 


P  li  O  — P  K  O 


more  or  less  successful  have  been  made  from  tlie  first  to 
exclude  clergymen  and  professors  identified  with  it  from  the 
pulpits  and  chairs  of  Berlin  and  elsewhere,  though  mem- 
bership in  it  involves  no  legal  disqualification  for  either. 
One  of  the  objects  of  the  association  was  to  some  extent 
obtained  by  the  reorganization  of  the  Prussian  Church 
when  Dr  Falk  was  cultus  minister,  on  the  basis  of  parochial 
and  synodal  representation,  which  came  into  full  operation 
in  1879  But  the  election  for  the  general  synod  turned 
out  very  unfavourable  to  the  liberal  party,  and  the  large 
orthodox  majority  endeavoured  to  use  their  power  against 
the  principles  and  the  members  of  the  association.  The 
members  of  the  association  elected  to  the  general  synod 
were  nine  only,  while  the  party  of  the  decidedly  orthodox 
numbered  upwards  of  seventy.  In  1882  the  position  of 
the  association  was  rendered  still  more  difficult  by  the 
agitation  in  Berlin  of  Dr  Kalthoff  and  other  members 
of  it  in  favour  of  a  "  people's  church "  on  purely  dis- 
senting and  extremely  advanced  theological  principles. 
The  turn  of  the  political  tide  in  the  direction  of  conserva- 
tism in  Berlin  indicated  by  the  retirement  of  the  cultus 
minister  Dr  Falk  increased  the  difficulties  and  the  work 
of  the  association,  far  as  Dr  Falk  was  from  sanctioning 
its  theological  principles.  Moreover,  it  had  sustained 
severe  losses  in  its  membership  by  death  and  otber 
causes. 


At  the  ena  of  the  twelfth  year  of  its  existence  (18")  the-ttssocia- 
tion  had  7500  members,  its  aunual  income  was  nearly  £350,  and  it 
had  distributed  in  the  same  year  10,000  copies  of  its  publications. 
In  1880  the  number  of  members  had,  risen  to  96,000,  and  of  local 
associations  to  80. 

See  Schenkel,  Der  Lentsene  froteitanremerei^,  uric  tfirte  Bedetitvnt/  jTir  die 
Oe/jenvait  (Wiesbaden,  16]^,  2d  ed.  187 1^ ;  Der  JD^;:tsC/ie  ProUstantanerein  In 
Sfinrn  SCatuCen  und  den  Thcsen  seiner  Baupti-ersanimtungen,  18(Jj-H2  (lieflm, 
18S3).  and  the  annual  leporrs  in  the  AUtjemcine  Kirclitiche  Kronik,  1805-Si.  and 
T/ieological  Xeuiew,  July  18ii9,  pp.  289-St, 

PROTESTANTS  is  the' generic  term' foif  members  of 
the  cBurches  which  owe  their  origin  directly  or  indirectly 
to  the  Kefokmation  (q.v.).  The  name  is  derived  from 
the  Protest  of  Spires  in  1529  (see  Luther,  vol.  xv.  p.  80). 
Certain  'snaall  communities  of  Christians  older  than  the 
Reformation,  but  agreeing  with  it  in  rejecting  the  author- 
ity of  Rome,  are  generally  and  quite  logically  grouped  as 
Protestants ;  and  popularly  the  name  is  considered  to 
include  all  Christians  who  do  not  belong  to  the  Greek  and 
Roman  Catholic  communions,  though  members  of  the 
Anglican  Church,  for  example,  frequently  protest  against 
such  a  classification  as  historically  false  and  personally 
obnoxious.  Protestantism  has  flourished  best  among  tho 
Teutonic  peoples  of  Northern  Europe,  and  has  always 
found  it  difficult  to  make  its  way  among  the  Latin  peoples 
of  the  South. 

The  following  table  shows  approximately  the  number  of 
Protestants  in  the  world  : — 


II 


EtJROPE — 

Great  Britain  and  Ireland  (Anglicans,  18,800,000;  Presbyterians,  3,900,000;  Methodists,  3,500,000; 

Independents,  1,200,000;  Baptists,  1,000,000)  

German  limpire  (Lutherans,  Reformed,  and  United,  28,318,280  ;  Meuuonites  and  other  Baptists,  38,744) 

Norway  and  Sweden  (Norway,  1,805,076;  Sweden,  4,561,759,  mostly  Lutheran)  

Denmark  and  Iceland  (Denmark,  1,960,844;  Iceland,  72,000,  mostly  Lutheran)  

Holland  (Reformed,   2,346,568— including  Remonstrants,   9678;    Lutherans,   73,696;   Mennonites, 

60,705) 

Switzerland  (mainly  Reformed) 

(Making  a  total  in  countries  of  the  Teutonic  race  of  69,296,492.) 

France  (Reformed  or  Calvinists,  467,531;  Lutherans,  80,117;  others,  33,109)    

Belgium,  Spain  and  Portugal,  Luxemburg,  and  Monaco  (respectively  15,000,  10,500,  963,  and  626) ... 

Italy  (Waldensians,  Free  Church  of  Italy,  Methodists,  Baptists,  &c.)   

Boumania 

(Total  in  countries  of  the  Latin  race,  683,646.) 

Austria  (Lutherans,  289,005;  Reformed,  110,525;  Unitarians,  169,  &c.) 

Hungary  (Lutherans,  1,130,150;  Reformed,  2,043,280;  Unitarians,  56,190)  

Russia  in  Europe  (Lutherans  in  Finland,  2,019,727) 

Turkey,  Greece,  Servia  (respectively  10,200,  20,000,  and  500) 

(Total  in  countries  of  Slavonic,  non-Aryan,  and^nixed  race,  8,165,799.)    - 
America — 
United  States  (Methodists,  3,686,114  church  members;   Baptists,  2,424,878;  Lutherans,  950,868; 

Disciples  of  Christ,  591,821;  Congregationalists,  381,697;  Episcopalians,  347,781) 

CanaHa 

West  Indies 

Central  and  South  America 


28,400,000  (estimate) 
28,357,024  (1880) 

6,366,835  (1875  and  1880 

2,032,844  (1880) 

2,472,680  (1879) 
1,667,109  (1880) 

580,757  (1872) 
27,089  (various) 
62,000  (estimate) 
13,800  (estimate) 

401,479  (1880) 
3,229,620  (1880) 
4,504,000  (paitly  estimate) 
30,700  (estimate) 
78,145,937 


III.  Asia  and  Australasia — 

India  (Anglicans,  &c.,  373,843;  Baptists,  Presbyterians,  &c.,  128,794;  Lutherans,  29,577). 
Dutch  Possessions 


30,000,000 ' 
2,422,285  (1881) 

160,500  (estimate) 

180,000  (partly  estimate) 
32,762,785 


China  and  Corea  (73,000),  Japan  (13,000),  and  Siam  (2000) 

Turkey  in  Asia  (100,000)  and  Persia  (5000) 

New  South  Wales  (516,512),  Victoria  (618,392),  Queensland  (139,380)., 

South  Australia  (216,626)  and  West  Australia  (20,613) 

New  Zealand  

Polynesia,  Micronesia,  and  Melanesia  (260,000,  8000,  and  16,000) 


IV.  Africa — 

Egypt  and  North  Africa  (10,000)  an(J  "Vest  Africa  (110,000).. 

Cape  Colony,  &c rt 

East  and  Central  Africa  (2000)  and  Madagascar  (300,000) 


532,219(1881) 

170,000  (partly  estimate) 

88,000  (estimate) 
105,000  (estimate! 
1,274,284  (1881) 
237,239  (1881) 
393,971  (1881> 
284,000  (estimate) 
3,084,713 


lotal  nvaber  of  Protestants  thus  ascertained 


120,000  (estimate) 

400,000  (estimate) 

302,000  (estimate) 

822,000 


114,815,435 


This  total  of  115,000,000  is  for  obvious  reasons  considerably  within  the  truth.  Making  allowance  for  increase  of  population  since 
(ome  of  the  census  returns,  it  will  probably  be  not  beyond  the  mark  to  state  the  Protestants  of  Europe  at  81,000,000,  of  America  at 
84,000,000,  of  Asia  and  Australasia  at  3,300,000,  and  of  Africa  at  850,000,  and  the  total  in  round  numbers  at  120,000,000.  As  regards 
Europe,  compare  Brachelli,  Die  Slnalcn  Europa's,  1884.  Juraschek  in  his  edition  of  Otto  Hiibnor's  Ocogrnjih.-statislische  TabcUen, 
1884,  gives  123,000,000  Protestants,  or  8-5  per  cent,  of  the  total  population  of  the  world,  which  he  states  at  1,435,000,000. 

■  This  estimate  of  tlic  Protestant  population  is  based  ou  the  details  of  church  membership  (partly  given  above)  obtained  at  the  census 
of  1880.  ~      ' 


P  11  0  —  P  R  O 


827 


PROTEUS,  a  Greek  sesugod,  spoken  of  by  Homer  as 
the  Old  ilan  of  the  Sea.  In  the  Oc/i/sse;/  he  dwells  in  the 
Bea  near  Pharos,  an  island  said  to  be  a  day's  sail  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Nile ;  in  Virgil  his  home  is  the  Carpathian 
Sea  between  Crete  and  Rhodes.  He  knew  all  things  past, 
present,  and  future,  but  was  very  loth  to  tell  what  he 
knew.  Those  who  would  consult  him  had  first  to  surprise 
and  bind  him  during  his  noou-day  slumber  in  a  cave  by 
the  sea,  where  he  was  wont  to  pass  the  heat  of  the  day 
surrounded  by  his  seals.  Even  when  caught  he  would  try 
to  escape  by  assuming  all  sorts  of  shapes ;  now  he  was  a 
lion,  now  a  serpent,  a  leopard,  a  boar,  a  tree,  fire,  water. 
But  if  his  captor  held  him  fast,  the  god  at  last  returned  to 
his  proper  shape,  gave  the  wished-for  answer,  and  then 
plunged  into  the  sea.  He  was  subject  to  Poseidon,  whose 
finny  droves  he  shepherded  under  the  billows.  In  post- 
Homeric  times  some  thought  that  Proteus  was  a  king  of 
Egypt,  at  whose  court  the  fair  Helen  tarried  after  she  had 
been  carried  off  by  Paris,  while  the  Greeks  fondly  deemed 
she  was  in  Troy.  This  is  the  story  followed,  with  varia- 
tions, by  Herodotus,  who  got  it  from  Egyptian  priests,  and 
by  Euripides  in  bis  play  of  Helen. 

The  fairy  tale  of  Proteus  has  been  interpreted  in  various  fanciful 
ways.  Pioteus's  leading  features — his  knowledge  of  the  future  and 
bis  power  of  assuming  any  shape  at  pleasure — are  characteristic  of 
the  "  medicine-men  "  of  savages  in  many  parts  of  the  world.  As 
late  as  the  beginning  of  our  era  there  was  a  class  of  wizards  at 
Rliodcs  wlio  possessed  two  at  least  of  the  chief  marks  of  "  medicine- 
men " — the  powers  of  transforming  themselves  and  of  making  rain 
{Diod.  Sic,  V.  55).  There  were  rain-makers  also  at  Rome  (Festus, 
s.v.  "aquKliciura,"  where  see  commentary). 

PROTEUS  ANGUINUS,  a  blind,  newt-like  perenni- 
branchiate  Amphibian,  about  a  foot  long,  found  in  the 
Adelsberg,  Maddalena,  ,and  other  limestone  caverns  of 
Carinthia  and  Carniola.  The  creature  is  white  or  flesh- 
coloured,  and  the  transparent  gills  appear  blood  red  ;  the 
skin  passes  uninterruptedly  over  the  rudimentary  eyes. 
The  animal's  body  is  cylindrical ;  the  snout  is  long  and 
blunt ;  the  fore-feet  have  three  toes,  and  the  hind  (which 
are  set  very  far  back)  two.  There  are  three  gill-arches  and 
two  gill-slits  on  each  side.  The  absence  of  the  fourth 
branchial  arch  is  a  feature  that  Proteus  has  in  common 
■with  Menobranckus  and  also  with  Spelerpes.  The  skull  is 
of  an  elongated  form,  and  presents  several  remarkable 
characters.  Thf  trabeculoo  cranii  are  persistent,  as  in  the 
snake.  The  membrane  bones  are  singularly  few,  the 
maxillre  being  rudimentary  and  the  nasals  and  supra- 
occipital  absent.  In  the  lower  jaw  the  splenial  is  said  to 
be  absent,  but  a  mento-Meckelian  cartilage  element  is 
present,  as  in  Batrachia.  The  palatines  have  a  row  of  teeth, 
and  are  ankylosed  with  the  pterygoids ;  the  premaxilke, 
dentaries,  and  vomers'  carry  teeth.  The  absence  of  a 
cartilage  roof  to  the  nasal  cavity  is  one  of  the  many 
characters  in  which  Proteus  agrees  with  Menobranchus, 
but  differs  from  Siren  and  Menopoma.  The  suspensoriura 
has  only  a  simple  pedicle,  as  in  Batrachia,  and  the  hyoid 
arch  is  remarkable  for  the  enormous  hyo-mandibular 
element,  which  is  larger  even  than  in  many  sharks.  The 
notochord  is  scarcely  constricted  by  the  amphiccolous 
vertebrre,  and  the  intervertebral  cartilages  are  at  a 
minimum  of  development.  There  are  twenty-nine  trunk 
vertebrse,  one  sacral,  and '  twenty-eight  caudal.  The 
pectoral  arch  contains  a  long  thin  ossified  scapula,  a  supra- 
Bcapula,  and  a  long  precoracoid  separated  by  a  deep  notch 
from  the  main  coracoid ;  a  fissure  exists  in  the  glenoid 
region.  There  is  no  sternum.  The  pectoral  girdle  is 
almost  identical  with  that  of  Menobranchus.  Tho  pelvis 
has  a  narrow  tapering  ischial  region,  well-marked  prepubos, 
aad  (?)  a  pointed  epipubis ;  this  girdle  also  is  extremely 
like  that  of  Menohranchu.':,  but  notably  different  from  that 
%rt  the  Axolotl,  which  is  ouly  a  pseudo-pcrennibranchiate. 


and  whose  real  affinities  are  with  Salamander  and  Triton. 
The  bones  of  the  fore-arm  and  leg  are  unankyloseU. 
There  are  three  unossitied  carpal  and  tarsal  elements,  which 
Gegenbaur  identifies  as  a  radiale,  ulnare,  and  a  fused  distal 
row ;  such  a  carpus  has  no  resemblance  to  either  the  em- 
bryonic or  adult  stage  of  any  other  amphibian."'  In  the 
heart  the  auricular  septum  is  incomplete ;  the  truncos 
arteriosus  bifurcates  into  two  trunks :  each  divides  into 
two,  and  the  posterior  of  these  again  into  two,  thus  forming 
the  three  aortic  arches  on  each  side.  The  pulmonary  vein 
sends  part  only  of  its  blood  into  the  heart,  and  part  into 
the  systemic  veins.  The  blood-corpuscles  are  the  largest 
known  among  vertebrates,  and  are  comparable  to  the 
exceedingly  large  corpuscles  of  the  Dipnoi.  The^brain  is 
very  small,  straight,  and  embryonic  in  character.  The  gut 
is  straight,  and  the  stomach  is  a  scarcely  perceptible  dilata- 
tion. The  thyroid  (alone  among  amphibians)  is  unpaired. 
The  lungs  are  long  simple  sacs,  expanded  distally,  as  in 
Menobranchus;  the  trachea  is  excessively  short,  and  the 
two  cartilages  which  bound  the  glottis  are  continued  into 
long  processes  which  pass  to  the  base  of  the  lungs.  As  in 
Siren,  Siredon,  and  others,  the  lateral  branch  of  the  vagus 
nerve  is  connected  with  a  series  of  sense-organs  forming  a 
"lateral  line."  These  characters  together  indicate  the 
exceedingly  low  position  of  Proteus  among  Amphibia ;  it 
and  its  close  relative  the  American  Menobranchus  are  the 
lowest  of  living  Amphibia.  The  creature  seems  to  be 
abundant  within  its  limited  habitat ;  it  feeds  on  worms 
and  small  fishes,  which  in  spite  of  its  blindness  it  catches 
dexterously.  It  has  bred  in  captivity,  and  lays  round, 
isolated  eggs,  about  a  third  of  an  inch  in  diameter.  It 
changes  colour  slightly  in  the  breeding  season,  and  two 
rows  of  reddish  spots  make  their  appearance  on  the  hinder 
part  of  the  body.  Such  a  change  seems  to  indicate  that 
the  creature  has  not  always  lived  in  the  absolute  darkness 
in  which  it  now  spends  its  life.  Individuals  differ  in  some 
minor  characters,  and  Cope  {Journ.  Acad.  Philadelphia,  v. 
p.  103,  1866)  has  based  four  new  species  on  Hyrtl's 
specimens  (P.  zoisii,  carrarm,  xanthostichus,  schteitersii). 
Merrem  altered  the  name  of  the  genus  to  Hypochthon 
(Gesch.  der  Amphibien,  1790-1820). 

Authorities. — Proteus  was  first  described  by  Lanrenti  in  his 
Synopsis  Replilium  (Vienna,  176S,  p.  87)  ;  his  locality,  Lake 
Zirknitz,  was  erroneous.  It  was  next  mentioned  by  Scopoli  (Annua 
V.  Hist.  Nat.,  1772).  A  full  description,  with  plates,  is  given  by 
Configliaclii  and  Rusconi  [Delproteo  angiiino  di  Zaurenti,  -ito,  Pavia, 
1819).  Tho  brain  has  been  described  by  Trevirauus  {P.  anguijii 
encephalon,  4to,  Gottingen,  1820),  tho  spinal  cori  by  Klaussner 
[Riickemnark  des  P.,  4to,  Munich,  1883),  tlie  skull  by  Parker  {Phil. 
Trans.,  clxvii.  pp.  668-573,  1877),  tho  pectoral  arch  by  Parker 
{Shoulder-girdle,  p.  6S,  pi.  iv. ),  tho  pelvis  by  Hotfraunn  {NederL 
Arch.,  iii.  p.  144,  1877),  the  vertebral  columu  by  Wivart  (P.  Z.  S., 
1870),  tho  lateral  line,  &c.,  by  Bugniou  (Bull.  Soc.  Vaud.,  iiL 
pp.  ^269-310,  1873),  tho  eye  by  Desfosses  (Comptcs  rendus,  xciv.  p. 
1729,  1882),  the  kidney  by  Solger  (Abh.  Oes.  Halle,  xv.  p.  405, 
1882),  the  reproduction  by  Schultze  (Zeils.f.  toiss.  Zool.,  xjcvi.  p. 
350,  1876)  and  M.  V.  Chauvin  (Zeils.f.  wiss.  Zool.,  xrxviii.  671- 
685, 1883),  and  the  affinities  with  Menobranchus  by  Van  d.  Hoeven 
(Arch.-Xeerl,  \.  p.  305,  1866  ;  Ann.  and  Mag.  N.  H.,  xviii.  p.  363, 
1866).  See  also  anatomical  details  by  Valentin  (/fir/xr/.  /.  Atuit., 
i.  p.  282,  1837,  vi.  p.  353,  1841),  and  many  smaller  papers. 

PROTOGENES,  a  Greek  painter,  born  in  Caunus  on 
tho  coast -of  Caria,.  but  resident  in  Rhodes  during  the 
latter  half  of  tho  4  th  century  B.C.,  was  celebrated  for  tho 
minute  and  laborious  finish  which  ho  bestowed  on  hta 
pictures,  both  in  drawing  and.  in  colour.  Apelles,  his 
great  rivaj,  standing  astoni.shed  in  presence  of  one  of  thesQ 
works,  could  only  console  himself  that  he  knew  when  to 
stop  whereas  Protogcncs  did  not.  So  .  also  Petronius 
{Satyr.,  8.3)  experienced  a  sensation  of  horror  at  tho  too 
vivid  realization  of  nature  in  which  Protogenes  indulged. 
On  one  picture,  tho  lalysus,  he  spent  seven  years  ;  on 
another,  the  SatyT,  ho   worked  continuously  during   tho 


'.f 


828 


r  11  0  —  PRO 


% 


sie'^e   of  Ehodes  by  Demetrius  Poliorcetes   (305-4  b.c.) 
norwitlistanding  that  the  garden  iu  Which  he  painted  was 
in  the  middle  of  the  enemy's  camp.  ■    Demetrius  unsolicited 
took  measures  for  his  safety ;  more  than  that,  when  told 
that  the  lalysus  just  mentioned  was  in  a  part  of  the  town 
exposed  to  assault,  Demetrius  changed  his  plan  of  opera- 
tions.    Possibly    the    slowness    and    laboriousness  of  the 
vrork  of  Protcf|genes  was  due  partly  to  a  want  oi  training 
in  his  youth.     He  appears  to  have  been  self-taught ;  some 
said  that  he  had  begun  life  as  a  sliii>painter,  and,  though 
the  painting  of  certain  small  figures  of  ships  in  a  pictui'e 
of  his  in  Athens,  however  excellent  it  may  have  been,  can 
hardly  be  held  to  confirm  this  account  of  his  youth,  it  does 
not  on  the  other  hand  render  the  account  unreliable.     It 
may  have  been  due  also  to  a  want  of  early  training  that 
he  found  so  much  difficulty  in  rendering  the  foam  at  the 
mouth  of  a  dog  which  occurred  in  the  picture  of  lalysus. 
Angry  at  his  many  failures,  he  dashed    the  sponge  wet 
■with  the  white  colour  which  he  had  just  wiped  off  at  the 
mouth  of  the  dog.     The  result  was  a  perfectly  successful 
team.     lalysus  was  a  local  hero,  the  founder  of  the  town 
of  the  same  name  in  the  island  of  Rhodes,  and  probably  he 
was  represented  as  a  huntsman.     The  picture  was  still  in 
Rhodes  in  the  time  of  Cicero,  but  was  afterwards  removed 
to  Rome,  where  it  perished  in  the  burning  of  the  temple 
of  Peace.     On  another  occasion  Protogenes  seems  to  have 
used   his    sponge    with    a   different    effect.     The    picture 
painted  during  the  siege  of  Rhodes  consisted  of  a  satyT 
leaning  idly  against  a  pillar  on  which  was  a  figure  of  a 
partridge  so  life-like  that  Ordinary  spectators  saw  nothing 
but  it.     Enraged  on  this  account,  the  painter  wiped  out 
the  partridge.     The  Satyr  must  have  been  one  of  his  last 
works.     He  would  then  be  about  seventy  years  of  age,  and 
had  enjoyed  for  about  twenty  years  a  reputation  next  only 
to  that  of  Apelles,  his  friend  and  benefactor.     Both  were 
finished  colourists  so  far  as  the  fresco-painting  of  their  day 
permitted,  and  both  were  laborious  in  the  practice  of  draw- 
ing, doubtless  with  the  view  to  obtaining  bold  effects  of 
perspective  as  well  as  fineness  of  outline.      It  was  an  illus- 
tration  of    this   practice    when    Apelles,    finding    in    the 
house  of  Protogenes  a  large  panel  ready  prepared  for  a 
picture,  drew  upon  it  with  a  brush  a  very  fine  line  which 
he  said-would  tell  sufficiently  who  had  called.     Protogenes 
on  his  return  home  took  a  brush  with  a  different  colour 
and  drew  a  still  finer  line  along  that  of  Apelles  dividing  ■ 
it  in   two.     Apelles  called  again  ;   and,  thus  challenged, 
drew  with   a  third   colour  another   line   vrithin   that  of 
Protogenes,  who  then  admitted  himself  surpassed.     This 
panel  was  seen  by  Pliny  {N.H.,  xxxv.  83)  in  Rome,  where 
it  was  much  admired,  and  where  it  perished  by  fire.     In 
the  gallery  of  the  Propylaea  at  Athens  was  to  be  seen  the 
panel  by  Protogenes  in  which  occurred  the  figures  of  ships " 
already  mentioned.     The  subject  consisted  of  two  figures 
representing  personifications  of  the  coast  of  Attica,  Paralus 
and  Hammonias,  to  whom  the  presence  of  ships  would  be 
the  more  appropriate  as  the  Athenians  actually  possessed 
two  ships  so  named.     For  the  council  chamber  at  Athens 
he  painted  figures  of  the  Thesmothetas,  but  in  what  form 
or  character  is  not  known.     Probably  these  works  were 
executed  in  Athens,  and  it  may  have  been  then  that  he'met 
Aristotle,  who  recommended  him  to  take  for  subjects  the 
deeds  of  Alexander  the  Great.     In  his  Alexander  and  Pan 
he  may  have  followed  that  advice  in  the  idealizing  spirit  to 
which  he  -was  accustomed.     To  this  spirit  must  be  traced 
also  his  Cydippe  and  Tlepolemus,  legendary  personages  of 
Rhodes.     Among  his  portraits  are  mentioned  those  of  the 
mother  of  Aristotle,  Philiscus  the  tragic  poet',  and  King  Anti- 
gonns.    But  Protogenes  was  also  a  sculptor  to  some  extent, 
and  made  several  bronze  statues  of  athletes,  armed  figures, 
huntsmen,  and  persons  in  the  act  of  offering  sacrifices. 


PROTOPLASM.  In  most  of  the  biological  articlea 
already  before  the  reader,  whether  concerned  with  general 
questions,  as  Biology,  Anatomy,  Botany,  Embry- 
ology, Evolution,  Histology,  Morphology,  Physiology, 
itc,  or  even  with  special  groups  of  living  beings,  as 
Animal  Kingdom,  Foraminifera,  Fungus,  Puotozoa,  ic, 
special  reference  has  been  made  to  protoplasm  as  the 
living  matter  from  which  all  kinds  of  living  beings  are 
formed  and  developed,  and  to  the  properties  of  which  all 
their  functions  are  ultimately  referred.  Fundamentally 
important  then  as  this  substance  is,  whether  we  occupy 
the  standpoint  of  morphology,  physiology,  or  setiology,  an 
attempt  must  be  made  to  outline  the  way  in  which  our 
knowledge  of  it  has  been  reached,  to  bring  together  by  the 
aid  of  a  short  summary  the  statements  of  such  preceding 
articles,  and  to  supply  means  of  extending  the  general 
idea  thus  obtained  by  reference  to  the  original  literature 
of  the  subject. 

§  1.  History. — Among  the  varied  and  fruitful  observa- 
tions of  the  early  microscopists,  Riisel  v.   Rosenhof's  ex- 
cellent account  (1755)  of  his  "Proteus  animalcule"  (the 
familiar  Ameeha)  is  especially  noteworthy  as  the  earliest 
description  of  the  form  and  movements  of  what  we  now 
kjiow  as  a  mass  of  living  protoplasm.     Such  discoveries 
as  those  of  rotation  in  the  cell  of  Chara  (Corti,  1772),  and 
of  similar  movements   in    other  plant  cells  ( Vallisneria, 
Meyen,   1827;    Tradescaniia,  R.   B^o^vn,    1831),  are- also 
memorable,— more  so  indeed  in  this  relation  than  is  the 
great  contemporaneous    movement    in    general    histology, 
since  this,  though  aided  by  the  rapid  improvement  of  the 
microscope,  eagerly  carried  on  by  the  united  labours  of 
zoologists  and  botanists,  headed  by  Johannes  Miiller  arid 
Robert  Brown,  and  culminating  in  the  hands  of  Schleidea 
and  Schwann  (1838-39)  in  the  fundamental  morphologi- 
cal generalization  of  the  ceU   theory  (see  Morphology), 
included  views  of  the  structure,  origin,  and  function  of 
the  cell-substance  alike  erroneous  and  misleading.     Know- 
ledge had    in  fact  to  start  afresh  from  the  level  of  the 
unappreciated  discovery  of  Rosenhof  ;  and  it  is  accordingly 
from  the  observations  of  Dujardin  on  Foraminifira  (1835) 
that  our    modern  knowledge    of   protoplasm   dates.     His 
main  account  is  still  worth  reading  in  his  own  words.     Iq 
proposing   the   term  "sarcode,"  he    says,  "je  propose  de 
nommer  ainsi  ce  que  d'autres  observateurs  out  appeld  une 
gelee   vivante,  cette    substance    glutineuse,  diaphane,  in- 
soluble dans  I'eau,  se  contractant  en  masses  globuleuses, 
s'attachant  aux  aiguilles  de  dissection,  et  se  laissant  ither 
comme  du  mucus,  enfin  se  trouvant  dans  tons  les  animaux 
inf^rieurs  interpos6e   aux  autres    elements  de  structure." 
Though  thus  dissipating  many  errors,  and  placing  the  study 
of  the   lowest  forms   of  life  on   its  true  basis,  Dujardin 
unfortunately  did  not  see  the  full  bearing  of  his  discovery. 
He   recognized  his  sarcode,   however,   in   the  p'oljrps,   and 
noted  that  the  ova  of   the  slug  exhibited  similar  move- 
ments.    The   next   important  step   was  not  taken  until 
1846,  when  the  botanist  Hugo  von  Mohl,  working  on  quite 
independent  lines,  reached  a  clearly  defined  conception  of 
the  vegetable  cell,  not  only,  as  utual  hitherto,  distinguish- 
ing the  cell  wall  and  the  nucleus  from  the  cell  contenta 
{ZeUsaft),  but   also    the  "tough,    slimy,   granular,   semi- 
fluid "    constituent    from    the    watery    cell-sap    hitherto 
generally  confused  with  it  under  the  common  name.     For 
this  substance  (which  Schleiden  liad  already  vaguely  men- 
tioned as  "Schleim")  he  proposed  the  term  "protoplasma" 
(rrpSros,  first,  irXda-fxa,  formed  substance).     The  discovery  of 
the  amoeboid  movements  of  colourless  blood  corpuscles  dates 
from  the  same  year,  and  the  basis  was  thus  prepared  for 
Ecker's  acute  comparison  (1849)  of  the  "formed  contractile 
substance"   of    muscle   with    the'  "unformed    contractile 
substance"   of    the   lowest   types   of  animal   life.     This 


r  R  0  T  0  P  L  A  S  ]\I 


829 


speculation,  so  profoundly  anticipatory  of  our  present  stand- 
point (see  Physiology),  was  greatly  strengthened  when 
Donders  shortly  afterwards  succeeded  in  referring  con- 
tractility from  the  cell-membrane  to  the  cell-substance. 
Cohn's  researches  among  microscopic  plants  and  animals, 
and  particularly  his  study  of  the  transition,  which  at  that 
time  seemed  so  marvellous  and  so  perplexing,  from  plant- 
like quiescence  to  animal-like  activity,  exhibited  by  the 
protoplasm  of  such  an  alga  as  Protococcus  on  escaping  from 
its  cell-wall,  led  him  to  suggest  that  vegetable  protoplasm 
and  animal  sarcode,  "if  not  identical,  must  be  at  any  rate 
in  the  highest  degree  analogous  substances."  This 
speculation  again  ran  too  far  in  advance  of  current  con- 
ceptions, dominated  as  these  were  by  the  errors  which 
accompanied  the  cell-theory,  and  another  decade  of  research 
was  needed  for  its  establishment.  This  was  effected  on 
several  simultaneous  and  convergent  lines.  The  botanical 
evidence  culminated  in  De  Bary's  classical  monograph  of 
the  Myxomycetes  (1859) ;  the  study  of  the  segmentation  of 
the  ovum,  and  the  rapid  advance  of  animal  histology,  both 
largely  due  to  Ktilliker,  were  of  marked  importance ;  while 
the  clear  identification  of  the  vegetai>le  "  protoplasm  "  with 
the  animal  "  sarcode,"  requiring,  as  it  did,  a  mastery  of  all 
these  lines  and  results  of  inquiry,  was  finally  effected  by  M. 
ScHULTZE  {q.v.),  whose  researches  on  Foram.inif(ra{\%5Vj, 
and  subsequent  admirable  studies  in  animal  histology, 
prepared  him  to  accomplish  the  definite  reform  of  the 
cell-theory.  This  he  did  by  fully  and  finally  replacing 
(1861-63)  the  early  conception  of  the  cell  as  an  all-import- 
ant membrane  enclosing  a  nucleus  surrounded  by  Huid 
by  that  of  a  unit-mass  of  living  matter  or  protoplasm  (the 
nucleus  alone  being  viewed  as  essential,  the  wall  or  mem- 
brane no  longer  so).  Our  present  usage  of  the  term  proto- 
plasm for  the  living  substance  of  the  animal  as  well  as  of 
the  plant  dates  from  Schultze's  paper  ("  Ueber  Muskelkdr- 
perchen  und  das  was  man  eine  Zelle  zu  nennen  hzhe,"  Arch, 
f.  Anat.  u.  Physiol.,  1861) ;  and  the  term  sarcode,  notvdth- 
Btanding  Dujardin's  priority,  has  since  lapsed  into  disuse, 
save  to  some  extent  among  French  authors. 

This  rejuvenescence  of  the  cell  theory,  in  a  form  point- 
ing to  a  far  deeper  unity  of  the  forms  and  processes  of 
organic  nature  than  its  founders  had  ventured  to  dream, 
marks  the  commencement  of  a  new  epoch  of  detailed  inves- 
tigation of  all  the  forms,  aspects,  conditions,  and  products 
of  protoplasmic  life,  but  in  this  movement  the  workers  are 
too  numerous  for  mention  save  in  so  far  as  may  be  inciden- 
tal in  the  following  scanty  reference  to  some  of  their  main 
results  (1).' 

§  2.  Appearance  and  Properties  of  Protoplasm. — To  ob- 
tain a  notion  of  the  appearance  and  physical  properties  of 
protoplasm,  it  is  expedient  as  it  were  to  repeat  the  process 
of  discovery,  and  acquire  concrete  ideas  by  actual  observa- 
tion as  far  as  possible,  or  at  least  from  good  figures.  "■,  The 
Amoeba  (see  Peotozoa)  and  the  Foraminitera  {q.v.)  thus 
afford  convenient  and  classical  examples  of  the  protoplasm 
of  the  lowest  animal  forms ;  the  colourless  corpuscles  of 
blood  should  also  be  examined,  and  the  structure  of  the 
higher  tissues  (see  Anatomy  and  Histology)  inquired 
into,  and  the  segmentation  of  an  ovum  (see  Reproduc- 
tion) observed, — most  conveniently  perhaps  in  frog  spawn. 
Vegetable  examples  are  readily  obtained  from  the  cells  of 
a  grovdng  shoot  (see  Botany,  vol.  iv.  pp.  83  sq.,  figs.  1 
and  6) ;  while  the  living  cells  of  Chara  (Botany,  fig.  7) 
and  other  examples  of  protoplasmic  movement  should  bo 
ebserved.  Thus,  with  the  aid  of  the  descriptive  passages 
to  bo  found  in  the  articles  referred  to  at  the  outset,  a. 
tolerably  clear  idea  of  a  mass  of  protoplasm,  with  its  con- 
tained granules  of  viirious  kinds  and  its  sap-vacuoles,  will 

'  These  numbers  refer  to  the  bibliography  at  p.  830 


be  obtained  ;  and  its  frequent  differentiation  into  an  outer 
layer  or  ectoplasm,  clearer  and  denser,  pa-ssing  into  an  inner 
layer  or  endoplasm,  usually  more  fluid  and  granular,  will 
be  noted.  A  finely  reticulated  structure  of  the  protoplasm 
may  also  be  made  out  in  many  cases ;  the  nucleus  (incon- 
spicuous since  equally  refracting  with  the  protoplasm  dur- 
ing life,  but  brought  out  clearly  after  death  by  the  process 
of  internal  digestion  of  the  surrounding  protoplasm,  or  by 
the  application  of  dyes  and  other  reagents),  and  its  con- 
tained nucleolus,  as  well  as  the  cell-wall  when  present, 
will  be  observed.  Wide  variations  of  consistency  will  thus 
be  noted  from  the  comparatively  solid,  almost  brittle,  state 
of  the  quiescent  protoplasm  of  some  seeds  to  its  thin, 
syrupy,  and  largely  vacuolated  state  in  a  growing  vegetable 
{issue  (c/.  Botany,  fig.  6).  Such  structural  inquiries  are 
now  in  active  progress,  especially  in  connection  with  the 
process  of  cell  division  (see  Histology,  Reproduction), 
and  many  questions  of  detail  are  more  or  less  under  active 
dispute,  e.g.,  the  relation  of  the  nucleus  to  the  protoplasm 
the  existence  or  constancy  of  an  internal  network  (tl\e 
"stroma")  in  both,  the  conditions  of  occurrence  of  that 
continuity  of  protoplasm  lately  shown  to  exist  through  the 
cell  walls  of  many  vegetable  tissues,  and  so  on  (2). 

§  3.  ManifestatioTfS  of  Life  {Functions). — The  vital  pro- 
perties or  "functions"  exhibited  by  undifferentiated  living 
protoplasm  {e.g.,  Amceha)  are  usually  enumerated  as  con- 
tractility, irritability  and  automatism,  reception  and  assimi- 
lation of  food,  metabolism  with  secretion  and  excretion, 
respiration,  and  reproduction.  Thus  we  have  represented 
all  those  functions  which  in  higher  animals  seem  to  be 
confined  to  special  tissues — which  we  accordingly  recognize 
as  muscular  or  nervous,  secretory  or  excretory,  respiratorj', 
reproductive,  or  the  like.  Yet  in  these  organs,  Lowever 
apparently  specialized  to  one  function  only,  a  residue  of 
all  or  nearly  all  the  other  fundamental  properties  of  pro- 
toplasm remains  and  may  be  redeveloped ;  and  thus  those 
functional  changes  (necessarily  accompanying  morpholo- 
gical evolution  or  change  of  environment)  which  we  call 
"adaptation"  and  those  pathological  disturbances  which 
we  term  "  disease  "  are  alike  provided  for.  See  Bio''ogy, 
Pathology,  Selection  and  Vaelation,  also  (8). 

§  4.  External  Conditions  of  Life. — See  Biology. 

§  6.  Experimental  Modification  of  the  Conditions  of  Life. 
— The  behaviour  of  protoplasm  under  various  modifications 
of  physical  conditions  has  been  investigated  by  Schultze, 
Kiihne,  Strasburger,  Engelmann,  and  others,  while  not  a 
few  researches  are  also  extant  as  to  the  behaviour  of  living 
cells  under  various  chemical  stimuli,  among  which  those  of 
Darwin  (see  Insectivorous  Plants)  and  Frommann  may 
bo  mentioned  as  especially  suggestive. «  See  also  ScHizo- 

MYCETES,  NuTRITI0N,'and  (4). 

§  6.  Chemical  Composition  and  Processes. — This  aspect 
of  protoplasm  is  of  constajitly  increasing  importance,  since 
for  the  chemist  all  functions  alike  can  only  bo  viewed  in 
terms  of  those  specific  anabolic  or  katabolic  changes  which 
to  the  physiologist,  on  the  other  hand,  seem  mere  accorar 
pg,niments  of  them  (see  Physiology,  Nutrition,  Repeo-. 
duction).  The  determination  of  the  chemical  nature  oJ 
protoplasm  is  thus  the  supreme  problem  of  physiological 
chemistry;  and,  while,  thanks  to  the  labours  of  Reinka 
E.  Schultze,  and  others,  there  has  been  a  rapidly  increasing 
knowledge  of  its  anastates,  but  more  especially  of  itt 
katastates,  and  of  many  eases  of  the  unity  of  metabolic 
processes  throughout  nature,  several  daring  general  hypw 
theses  are  already  in  the  field.  Of  these  that  of  Schiitzeu- 
berger,  who  views  proteid  bodies  as  complex  ureides,  ana 
that  of  Locw  and  Bokorny,  who  regard  them  as  a  complex 
'  mixture  of  aldehyde  groups,  are  examples.     See  (5). 

§  7.  Molecular  Constitution. — Many  hypotheses  ajB  to  tlij 
minute  structure  of  protoplasm  have  been  proposed ;  thui 


S30 


T.  R  O—  PRO 


Spencer  resolves  protoplasm  into  "physiological  units," 
Haeckel  into  "plastidules,"  while  Darwin  accounts  for 
keredity  by  reference  to  the  properties  of  supposed  "  gem- 
mules,"  Engelmann  suggests  the  existence  of  "  contractile 
units "  {isoiagmtn),  &c. ;  but  those  various  hypotheses, 
framed  mostly  for  special  purposes,  still  await  more  general 
criticism.    See  (6). 

§  8.  Origin  of  Protoplasm. — See  ABiOGEirasis,  Biology, 
Reproduction,  and  (7). 

Bibliography. — In  addition  to  the  articles  above  referred  to,  the 
reader  may  with  advantage  consult  the  following  works,  from 
which  complete  bibliograjihical  details  can  be  obtained.  (1) 
For  general  history  see  Sachs,  Geschichte  d.  Botanik ;  Cams,  Ge- 
schichte  d.  Zoologie;  Engelmann,  "  PhysioL  d.  Protoplasma  n. 
Flimmerbewegung,"  in  Hermann's  Maiidb.  d.  Physiologie,  i., 
Leipsic,  1879  ;  and  for  special  history,  Dujardin,  "  Recherches  s.  1. 
orgauismes  inferieurs,"  especially  §  iii.,'  "  S.  1.  pretendus  estomacs 
d.  animales  Infusoires  ets.  u.  subst.  appelee  Sarcode,"^)iJ!.  d.  Sci. 
Nat.,  1835,  p.  367;  H.  v.  Mohl,  "  Ueb.  d.  Saftbewegung  im 
Innem  d.  Zelle,"  Bot.  Zeitung,  1846,  p.  73;  Slax  Schultze,  Ueb. 
d.  Organismus  d.  PoZi/Wia/amira,  Leipsic,  1854;  Id.,  "Ucb.  Mus- 
kelkorperchen,"  &c.,  ArcTi.  f.  Anat.  u.  Physiol.,  1861;  Id., 
D.  Protoplasma  d.  Shisopoden  u.  d.  PJlawmzeUen,  Leipsic.  1863 ; 


De  Bary,  "Die  Mycetozoen,"  Zcilsch.  f.  wissensch.  Zool,  x  ,  1859} 
Haeckel,  Gcnerclle  Morphologic,  i.,  Berlin,  1866.  (2)  Forgenei-a) 
structure  and  properties  see  Hofmeister,  D.  Lehre  d.  Pfi.-Zelle, 
Leipsic,  1867 ;  Sachs,  Lehrb.  d.  Botanik,  or  Engl,  translation, 
Oxford,  1882;  Sachs,  Vorlesungcn  iib.  Pfianzcn- Physiol.,  Leipsic, 
1882;  and  other  text-books  of  vegetable  physiology,  especially 
those  of  Reinke  and  Pfetfer  ;  Strasburger,  D.  Botan.  Practicum, 
Leipsic,  1884  ;  and  Engelmann,  op.  cit.  Among  special  works  see 
Kiihne,  Untcrsuc/u  iib.  d.  Protop.  u.  d.  Conlraelilildt,  Leipsic, 
1864;  Strasburger,  "Studien  iib.  d.  Protoplasma,"  ./CTia.  Zeitsch., 
X.,  1876,  also  Ueb.  Zellbildung  u.  Zelllheihmg,  2d  ed.,  Jena,  1876. 
(3)  Dohrn,  Das  Principd.  Functionswechsels,  Leipsic,  1875;  Foster, 
Handbook  of  Physiology,  4th  ed.,  Loiidon,  1884.  (4)  For  ex- 
perimental researches  see  Engelmann,  Kiihne,  and  other  authora 
cited  under  (2)  passim, ;  also  Darmn,  Insectivorous  Plants,  London^ 
1876  ;  Frommann,  "  Ueb.  Stmctur,  Lebenserschein,  &c.,  d.  Thier. 
u.  Pfl.-Zellen,"  Jeria.  Zeitsch.,  xviii.,  1884.  (5)  Gamgce,  Physiol. 
Chem.  of  Anim.  Body,  London,  1880  ;  Foster,  Handbook  of  Physi- 
ology ;  Gautier,  Chimie  appliqu/e  A  la  Physiologie  ;  Schiitzonberger, 
"  Recherches  s.  I'AIbumiue,  &o.,"  Bull.  d.  I.  Soc.  Chimiqne,  1875  ; 
Leow  and  Bokorny,  Biol.  Central- Blatt,  i..  No.  7  ;  and  Reinke, 
"  Ueber  d.  Protoplasma,"  in  Untersuch.  a.  d.  bot.  Lab.  Univ. 
Gottingcn,  1881.  (6)   Spencer,  Principles  of  Biology,  vol.    i.; 

Haeckel,  Gen.  Morph.,  i. ;  Darwin,  Variation  under  Domestication; 
Engelmann,  op.  cit.        (7)  Engelmann,  op.  cit.  (P.  GE.) 


I 


PROTOZOA 


PROTOZOA  is  the  name  applied  to  the  lowest  grade  of 
the  animal  kingdom,  and  originated  as  a  translation 
of  the  German  term  "Urthiere."  'WTiilst  at  first  used 
some  forty  years  ago  in  a  vague  sense,  without  any  strict 
definition,  so  as  to  include  on  the  one  hand  some  simple 
organisms  which  are  now  regarded  as  plants  and  on  the 
other  some  animals  which  are  now  assigned  a  higher  place 
in  the  animal  series,  the  term  has  within  the  last  twenty 
years  acquired  a  very  clear  signification. 

The  Protozoa  are  sharply  and  definitely  distinguished 
from  all  the  rest  of  the  animal  kingdom,  which  are  known 
by  the  names  "  Metazoa "  or  "  Enterozoa."  They  are 
those  animals  which  are  structurally  single  "cells"  or 
single  corpuscles  of  protoplasm,  whereas  the  Enterozoa 
consist  of  many  such  units  arranged  definitely  (in  the  first 
instance)  in  two  layers— an  endoderm  or  enteric  cell-layer 
and  an  ectoderm  or  deric  cell-layer — around  a  central 
cavity,  the  enteron  or  common  digestive  cavity,  which  is 
in  open  communication  with  the  exterior  by  a  mouth. 

The  Protozoa  are  then  essentially  unicellular  animals. 
The  individual  or  person  in  this  grade  of  the  animal  king- 
dom is  a  single  cell ;  and,  although  we  find  Protozoa  which 
consist  of  aggregates  of  such  cells,  and  are  entitled  to  be 
called  "multicellular,"  yet  au  examination  of  the  details 
of  structure  of  these  cell-aggregates  and  of  their  life- 
history  establishes  the  fact  that  the  cohesion  ef  the  cells 
in  these  instances  is  not  an  essential  feature  of  the  life  of 
such  multicellular  Protozoa  but  a  secondary  and  non-essen- 
tial  arrangement.'^Like  the  budded  "persons"  forming, 
v.'hen  coherent  to  one  another,  undifferentiated  "  colonies  " 
among  the  Polyps  and  Corals,  the  coherent  cells  of  a  com- 
pound Protozoon  can  be  separated  from  one  another  and 
live  independently ;  their  cohesion  has  no  economic  signifi- 
cance. Each  cell  is  precisely  the  counterpart  of  its  neigh- 
bour; there  is  no  common  life,  no  distribution  of  function 
among  special  groups  of  the  associated  cells,  and  no  cor- 
responding differentiation  of  structure.  As  a  contrast  to 
this  we  find  even  in  the  simplest  Enterozoa  that  the  cells 
are  functionally  and  structurally  distinguishable  into  two 
groups — those  which  line  the  enteron  or  digestive  cavity 
and  those  which  form  the  outer  body  wall  The  cells  of 
these  two  laj'ers  are  not  interchangeable ;  they  are  funda- 
mentally different  in  properties  and  structure  from  one 
•another.  The  individual  Enterozoon  is  not  a  single  cell ; 
it  is  an  aggregate  of  a  higher  order  consisting  essentially 
of  a  digestlvecavity  around  which  two  layers  of  cells  are 


disposed.  The  individual  Protozoon  is  a  single  cell;  a 
number  of  these  individuals  may,  as  the  result  of  the  pro- 
cess of  fission  (cell-division),  remain  in  contact  with  one 
another,  but  the  compound  individual  which  they  thus 
originate  has  not  a  strong  character.  The  constituent 
cells  are  still  the  more  important  individualities ;  they 
never  become  differentiated  and  grouped  in  distinct  layers 
differing  from  one  another  in  properties  and  structure ; 
they  never  become  subordinated  to  the  individuality  of 
the  aggregate  produced  by  their  cohesion ;  hence  we  are 
jnstified  in  calling  even  these  exceptional  aggregated 
Protozoa  unicellular. 

By  far  the  larger  number  of  Protozoa  are  absolutely  ■ 
single  isolated  cells,  which,  whenever  they  duplicate  them- 
selves by  that  process  of  division  common  to  these  units 
of  structure  (whether  existing  as  isolated  organisms  or  as 
constituents  of  the  tissues  of  plants  or  of  animals),  separ- 
ate at  once  into  two  distinct  individuals  which  move  away 
from  one  another  and  are  thenceforward  strangers. 

Whilst  it  is  easy  to  draw  the  line  between  the  Protozoa 
and  the  Enterozoa  or  Metazoa  which  lie  above  them,  on 
account  of  the  perfectly  definite  differentiation  of  the  cells 
of  the  latter  into  two  primary  tissues,  it  is  more  difficult  to 
separate  the  Protozoa  from  the  parallel  group  of  unicellular 
plants. 

Theoretically  there  is  no  difficulty  about  this  distinction. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  organisms  present  themselves  to  us 
in  two  great  series  starting  in  both  cases  from  simple 
unicellular  forms.  The  one  series,  the  plants,  can  take  up 
the  carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen,  and  nitrogen  necessary  to 
build  up  their  growing  protoplasm  from  mineral  com- 
pounds soluble  in  water,  compounds  which  constitute  the 
resting  stage  of  those  elements  in  the  present  physical 
conditions  of  our  planet.  Plants  can  take  their  nitrogen 
in  the  form  of  ammonia  or  in  the  form  of  iiitrates  and 
their  carbon  in  the  form  of  carbonic  acid.  Accordingly 
they  require  no  mouths, '  no  digestive  apparatus ;  their 
food  being  soluble  in  water  and  diffusible,  they  absorb  at 
all  or  many  points  of  their  surface.  The  spreading  diffuse 
form  of  plants  is  definitely  related  to  this  fact.  On  the 
other  hand  the  series  of  organisms  which  we  distinguish 
as  animals  cannot  take  the  nitrogen,  necessary  to  build  up 
their  protopiasm,  in  a  lower  state  of  combination  than  it 
presents  in  the  class  of  compounds  known  as  albumens ; 
nor  can  they  take  carbon  in  a  lower  state  of  combination 
than  it  presents   when  united  with  hydrogen  or  witf 


PROTOZOA 


831 


hydrogen  and  oxygen  to  form  fat,  sugar,  and  starch. 
Albumens  and  fats  are  not  soluble  in  water  and  diffusible ; 
they  have  to  bo  seized  by  the  animal  in  the  condition 
of  more  or  less  solid  particles,  and  by  chemical  processes 
superinduced  in  the  living  protoplasm  of  the  animal  by 
the  contact  of  these  particles  they  are  acted  upon,  chemic- 
ally modified,  and  rendered  diffusible.  Hence  the  animal 
is  provided  with  a  mouth  and  a  digestive  cavity,  and  with 
organs  of  locomotion  and  prehension  by  which  it  may  search 
out  and  appropriate  its  scattered  nutriment.  Further  the 
albumens,  fats,  sugars,  and  starch  which  are  the  necessary 
food  of  an  animal  are  iiot  found  in  nature  excepting  as 
the  products  of  the  life  of  plants  or  of  animals ;  accord- 
ingly all  animals  are  in  a  certain  sense  parasitic  upon 
either  plants  or  other  animals.  It  would  therefore  seem 
to  be  easy  to  draw  the  line  between  even  the  most  minute 
unjcellular  plants  and  the  similarly  minute  unicellular 
animals — assigning  those  which  feed  on  the  albumens,  &c., 
of  other  organisms  by  means  of  a  mouth  and  digestive 
apparatus  to  the  animal  series,  and  those  which  can  appro- 
priate the  elements  of  ammonia,  nitrates,  and  carbonates 
to  the  plants. 

Such  absolute  distinctions  lending  themselves  to  sharp 
definitions  have,  however,  no  place  in  the  organic  world  ; 
and  this  is  found  to  be  equally  true  whether  we  attempt 
to  categorically  define  smaller  groups  in  the  classification 
of  plants  and  animals  or  to  indicate  the  boundaries  of  the 
great  primary  division  which  those  familiar  names  imply. 
Closely  allied  to  plants  which  are  highly  and  specially 
developed  as  plants,  and  feed  exclusively  upon  ammonia, 
nitrates,  and  carbonates,  we  find  exceptionally  modified 
kinds  which  are  known  as-  "  insectivorous  plants  "  and  are 
jjrovided  with  digestive  cavities  (the  pitchers  of  pitcher- 
plants,  &c.),  and  actually  feed  by  acting  chemically  upon 
the  albumens  of  insects  which  they  catch  in  these  diges- 
tive receptacles.  No  one  would  entertain  for  a  moment 
the  notion  that  these  insectivorous  plants  should  be  con- 
sidered as  animals.  The  physiological  definition  separat- 
ing plant  from  animal  breaks  down  in  their  case ;  but  the 
consideration  of  the  probable  history  of  their  evolution  as 
indicated  by  their  various  details  of  structure  suffices  at 
once  to  convince  the  most  sceptical  observer  that  they 
actually  belong  to  the  vegetable  line  of  descent  or  family 
tree,  though  they  have  lost  the  leading  physiological  char- 
acteristic which  has  dominated  the  structure  of  other 
plants.  In  this  extreme  case  it  is  made  very  obvious  that 
in  grouping  organisms  as  plants  or  as  animals  we  are  not 
called  upon  to  apply  a  definition  but  to  consider  the 
multifarious  evidences  of  historical  evolution.  And  we 
find  in  the  case  of  the  Protozoa  and  the  Protophyta  that 
the  same  principle  holds  good,  although,  when  dealing 
with  extremely  simple  forms,  it  becomes  much  more  diffi- 
cult to  judge  of  the  genetic  relationship  of  an  organism  in 
proportion  as  the  number  of  detailed  points  of  possible 
agreement  with  and  divergence  from  other  forms  to  which 
it  may  be  supposed  to  be  related  are  few. 

The  feeding  of  plants  upon  carbonic  acid  is  invariably 
accompanied  by  the  presence  of  a  peculiar  green-colouring 
matter — chlorophyll.  In  virtue  of  some  direct  or  indirect 
action  of  this  chlorophyll  the  protoplasm  of  the  plant  is 
enabled  to  seize  the  carbon  of  the  mineral  world — the  car- 
bon which  has  sunk  to  the  lowest  resting  stage  of  combina- 
tion— and  to  raise  it  into  combination  with  hydrogen  and 
oxygen  and  ultimately  with  nitrogen.  There  are  plants 
which  have  no  chlorophyll  and  are  thus  unable  to  feed 
upon  carbonic  acid.  They  are  none  the  loss  plants  since 
they  agree  closely  with  particular  chlorophyll-bearing 
plants  in  details  of  form  and  structure,  mode  of  growth 
and  reproduction.  A  large  series  of  these  are  termed 
Pvngi.     Though  unable  to  feed  on  carbonic  acid,  they  do 


not  feed  as  do  animals.  They  can  take  their  carbon  from 
acetates  and  tartrates,  which  animals  cannot  do,  and  their 
nitrogen  from  ammonia.  Even  when  it  is  admitted  that 
some  of  these  colourless  plants,  such  as  the  Bacteria 
(Schizomycetes),  can  act  upon  albumens  so  as  to  digest 
them  and  thus  nourish  themselves,  it  is  not  reasonable  to 
place  the  Bacteria  among  animals,  any  more  than  it  would 
be  reasonable  so  to  place  Nepenthes,  Sarracenia,  and 
Drosera  (insectivorous  Phanerogams).  For  the  structure 
and  mode  of  growth  of  the  Bacteria  is  like  that  of  well- 
known  chlorophylligerous  minute  Algae  from  which  they 
undoubtedly  differ  only  in  having  secondarily  acquired 
this  peculiar  mode  of  nutrition,  distinct  from  that  which 
has  dominated  and  determined  the  typical  structure  of 
plants. 

So  we  find  in' a  less  striking  series  of  instances  amongst 
animals  that  here  and  there  the  nutritional  arrangemeuts 
which  we  have  no  hesitation  in  affirming  to  be  the  leading 
characteristic  of  animals,  and  to  have  directly  and  perhaps 
solely  determined  the  great  structural  features  of  the 
animal  line  of  descent,  are  largely  modified  or  even  alto- 
gether revolutionized.  The  green  Hydra,  the  freshwater 
Sponge,  and  some  Planarian  worms  produce  chlorophyll 
corpuscles  in  the  protoplasm  of  their , tissues  just  as  green 
plants  do,  and  are  able  in  consequence  to  do  what  animals 
usually  cannot  do — namely,  feed  upon  carbonic  acid.  The 
possibilities  of  the  protoplasm  of  the  plant  and  of  the 
animal  are,  we  are  thus  reminded,  the  same.  The  fact 
that  characteristically  and  typically  plant  protoplasm  ex- 
hibits one  mode  of  activity  and  animal  protoplasm  another 
does  not  prevent  the  protoplasm  of  even  a  highly  developed 
plant  from  asserting  itself  in  the  animal  direction,  or  of  a 
thoroughly  characterized  animal,  such  as  the  green  Hydra, 
fromi  putting  forth  its  chlorophylligenous  powers  as  though 
it  belonged  to  a  plant. 

Hence  it  is  not  surprising  that  we  find  among  the 
Protozoa,  notwithstanding  that  they  are  characterized  by 
the  animal  method  of  nutrition  and  their  forms  determined 
by  the  exigencies  of  that  method,  occasional  instances  of 
partial  vegetable  nutrition  such  as  is  implied  by  the  deve- 
lopment of  chlorophyll  in  the  protoplasm  of  a  few  members 
of  the  group.  It  would  not  be  inconsistent  with  what  is 
observed  in  other  groups  should  we  find  that  there  are 
some  unicellular  organisms  which  must,  on  account  of 
their  structural  resemblances  to  other  organisms,  be  con- 
sidered as  Protozoa  and  yet  have  absolutely  given  up  alto- 
gether the  animal  mode  of  nutrition  (by  the  ingestion  of 
solid  albumens)  and  have  acquired  the  vegetable  mode  of 
absorbing  ammonia,  nitrates,  and  carbonic  acid.  Experi- 
ment in  this  matter  is  extremely  difficult,  but  such  "  veget- 
able" or  "holophytic  nutrition  "  appears  to  obtain  in  the 
case  of  many  of  the  green  Flagellata,  of  the  Dinoflagellata, 
and  possibly  of  other  Protozoa. 

On  the  other  hand  there  is  no  doubt  that  we  may  fall 
into  an  error  in  including  in  the  animal  line  of  descent  all 
unicellular  organisms  which  .nourish  themselves  by  the 
inception  of  solid  nutriment.  It  is  conceivable  that  some 
of  these  are  exceptional  creophagous  Protophytes  parallel 
at  a  lower  level  of  structure  to  the  insectivorous  Phanero- 
gams. In  all  cases  we  have  to  balance  the  whole  of  the 
evidence  and  to  consider  probabilities  as  indicated  by  a 
widely-reaching  consideration  of  numerous  facts. 

The  mere  automatic  motility  of  unicellular  organisms 
was  at  one  time  considered  sufficient  indication  that  such 
organisms  were  animals  rather  than  plants.  We  now  know 
that  not  only  are  the  male  reproductive  cells  of  ferns  and 
similar  plants  propelled  by  vibratile  protoplasm,  but  such 
locomotive  particles  are  recognized  as  common  products 
("  swarm-spores  "  and  "  zoospores  ")  of  the  lowest  plants. 

The  danger  of  dogmatizing  erroneously  in  distinguish- 


832 


PKOTOZOA 


ing  Protozoa  from  Protophyta,  and  the  insuperable  diffi- 
culty in  really  accomplishing  the  feat  satisfactorily,  has  led 
at  various  times  to  the  suggestion  that  the  effort  should  be 
abatidoned  and  a  group  constituted  confessedly  containing 
both  unicellular  plants  and  unicellular  animals  and  those 
organisms  which  may  be  one  or  the  other.  Haeckel  has 
proposed  to  call  this  group  the  Protista  (l).i  On  the 
whole,  it  is  more  satisfactory  to  make  the  attempt  to  dis- 
criminate those  unicellular  forms  which  belong  to  the 
animal  line  of  descent  from  those  belonging  to  the  veget- 
able line.  It  is,  after  all,  not  a  matter  of  much  conse- 
quence if  the  botanist  should  mistakenly  claim  a  few 
Protozoa  as  plants  and  the  zoologist  a  few  Protophyta 
as  animals.  The  evil  which  we  have  to  avoid  is  that  some 
small  group  'of  unattractive  character  should  be  rejected 
both  by  botanist  and  zoologist  and  thus  our  knowledge  of 
it  should  unduly  lag.  Bearing  this  in  mind  the  zoologist 
should  accord  recognition  as  Protozoa  to  as  wide  a  range 
of  unicellular  organisms  as  he  can  without  doing  violence 
to  his  conceptions  of  probability. 

A  very  interesting  and  very  difficult  subject  of  speculation  forces 
itself  on  our  attention  when  we  attempt  to  di-aw  the  line  between 
the  lowest  plants  and  the  lowest  animals,  and  even  comes  again 
before  us  when  we  pass  in  review  the  different  forms  of  Protozoa. 

That  subject  is  the  nature  of  the  fii-st  protoplasm  which  was 
evolved  from  not-living  matter  on  the  earth's  surface.  Was  that 
first  protoplasm  more  like  animal  or  more  like  vegetable  proto- 
plasm as  we  know  it  to  day  ?  By  what  steps  was  it  brought  into 
existence  ? 

Briefly  stated  the  present  writer's  view  is  that  the  earliest  proto- 
plasm did  not  possess  chlorophyll  and  therefore  did  not  possess  the 
power  of  feeding  on  carbonic  acid.  A  conceivable  state  of  things 
is  that  a  vast  amount  of  albuminoids  aud  other  such  compounds 
had  been  brought  into  existence  by  those  processes  whicn  cul- 
minated in  the  development  of  the  first  protoplasm,  and  it  seems 
therefore  likely  enough  that  the  first  protoplasm  fed  upon  these 
antecedent  steps  in  its  own  evolution  just  as  animals  feed  on 
organic  compounds  at  the  present  day,  more  especially  as  the 
large  creeping  plasmodia  of  some  Mycetozoa  feed  on  vegetable 
refuse.  It  indeed  seems  not  at  all  improbable  that,  apart  from  their 
elaborate  fructification,  the  Mycetozoa  represent  more  closely  than 
any  other  living  forms  the  original  ancestors  of  the  whole  organic 
world.  At  subsequent  stages  in  the  history  of  this  archaic  living 
matter  chlorophyll  was  evolved  and  the  power  of  taking  carbon 
from  carbonic  acid.  The  "green"  plants  were  rendered  possible 
by  the  evolution  of  chlorophyll,  but  through  what  ancestral  forms 
they  took  origin  or  whether  more  than  once,  i.e.,  by  more  than 
one  branch,  it  is  difficult  even  to  guess.  The  gi-een  Flagellate  Pro- 
tozoa (Volvocinefe)  certainly  furnish  a  connecting  point  by  which 
it  is  possible  to  link  on  the  pedigree  of  green  plants  to  the  primi- 
tive protoplasm  ;  it  is  noteworthy  that  they  cannot  be  considered 
as  very  primitive  and  are  indeed  highly  specialized  forms  as  com- 
pared with  the  naked  protoplasm  of  the  Mycetozoon's  plasmodium. 

Thus  then  we  are  led  to  entertain  the  paradox  that  though  the 
animal   is   dependent  on   the  plant  for   its  food   yet  the  animal 

? receded  the  plant  in  evolution,  and  we  look  among  the  lower 
rotozoa  and  not  among  the  lower  Protophyta  for  the  nearest 
representatives  of  that  first  protoplasm  which  was  the  result  of  a 
long  and  gradual  evolution  of  chemical  structure  and  the  starting 
point  of  the  development  of  organic  form. 

T%e  Protozoan  Cell-Individual  compared  with  the  Typical 
Cell  of  Animal  and  Vegetable  Tissues. 

Morphology. 
The  Protozoon  individual  is  a  single  corpuscle  of  proto- 
plasm, varying  in  size  when  adult  from  less  than  the 
■j-jj^j^th  of  an  inch  in  diameter  (some  Sporozoa  and  Flagel- 
lata)  up  to  a  diameter  of  an  inch  (Nummulites),  and  even 
much  larger  size  in  the  plasmodia  of  Mycetozoa.  The  sub- 
stance of  the  Protozoa  exhibits  the  same  general  properties 
— irritability,  movement,  assimilation,  growth,  and  division 
— and  the  same  irremediable  chemical  alteration  as  the  result 
of  exposure  to  a  moderate  heat,  which  are  observed  in 
the  protoplasm  constituting  the  corpuscles  known  as  cells 
which  build  up  the  tissues  of  the   larger  animals   and 

'  These  nnmbers  refer  to  the  bibliography  at  p.  8C6. 


plants.  There  is  therefore  no  longer  any  occasion  to  make 
use  of  the  word  "  sarcode  "  which  before  this  identity  was 
established  was  very  usefully  applied  by  Dujardin  (2)  to 
the  substance  which  mainly  forms  the  bodies  of  the 
Protozoa.  Like  the  protoplasm  which  constitutes  the 
"cells"  of  the  Enterozoa  aud  of  the  higher  plants,  that 
of  the  Protozoon  body  is  capable  of  producing,  by  chemical 
processes  which  take  place  in  its  substance  (over  and  above 
those  related  merely  to  its  nutrition),  a  variety  of  distinct 
chemical  compounds,  which  may  form  a  deposit  in  or 
beyond  the  superficial  protoplasm  of  the  corpuscle  or  may 
accumulate  centrally.  These  products  are  therefore  either 
ectoplastic  or  entoplastic.  The  chemical  capacities  of 
protoplasm  thas  exhibited  are  very  diverse,  ranging  from 
the  production  of  a  denser  variety  of  protoplasm,  probably 
as  the  result  of  dehydration,  such  as  we  see  in  the  nucleus 
and  in  the  cortical  substance  of  many  cells,  to  the  chemical 
separation  and  deposition  of  membranes  of  pure  chitin  or 
of  cellulose  or  of  shells  of  pure  calcium  carbonate  or  quasi- 
crystalline  needles  of  silica. 

Nucleus. — The  nucleus  is  probably  universally  present  in 
the  Protozoon  cell,  although  it  may  have  a  very  simple  struc- 
ture and  be  of  very  small  size  in  some  cases.  The  presence 
of  a  nucleus  has  recently  been  demonstrated  by  means  of 
appropriate  staining  reagents  in  some  Protozoa  (shell- 
bearing  Keticularia  or  Foraminifera  and  many  Mycetozoa) 
where  it  had  been  supposed  to  be  wanting,  but  we  are  not 
yet  justified  in  concluding  absolutely  that  there  are  not 
some  few  Protozoa  in  which  this  central  differentiation  of 
the  protoplasm  does  not  exist ;  it  is  also  a  fact  that  in  the 
young  forms  of  some  Protozoa  which  result  from  the 
breaking  up  of  the  body  of  the  parent  into  many  small 
"  spores  "  there  is  often  no  nucleus  present. 

In  contrast  to  this  it  is  the  fact  that  the  cells  which 
build  up  the  tissues  of  the  Enterozoa  are  all  derived  from 
the  division  of  a  nucleated  egg-cell  and  the  repeated 
division  of  its  nucleated  products,  and  are  invariably 
nucleated.  The  same  is  true  of  tissue-forming  plants, — 
though  there  are  a  few  of  the  lowest  plants,  such  as  the 
Bacteria,  the  protoplasm  of  which  presents  no  nucleus.  In 
spite  of  recent  statements  (3)  it  cannot  be  asserted  that 
the  cells  or  protoplasmic  corpuscles  of  the  yeast- plant 
(Saccharomyces)  and  of  the  hyphse  of  many  simple  moulds 
contain  a  true  nucleus.  We  are  here  brought  to  the 
question  "  What  is  a  true  nucleus  1 "  The  nucleus  which 
is  handed  on  from  the  egg-cell  of  higher  plants  and 
Enterozoa  to  the  cells  derived  from  it  by  fission  has  lately 
been  shown  to  possess  in  a  wide  variety  of  instances  such 
very  striking  characteristics  that  we  may  well  question 
whether  every  more  or  less  distinctly  outlined  mass  or 
.spherule  of  protoplasm  which  can  be  brought  into  view  by 
colouring  or  other  reagents,  within  the  protoplasmic  body 
of  a  Protozoon  or  a  Protophyte,  is  necessarily  to  be  con- 
sidered as  quite  the  same  thing  as  the  nucleus  of  tissue- 
forming  egg-cell-derived  celb. 

Researches,  chiefly  due  to  Flemming  (4),  have  shown 
that  the  nucleus  in  very  many  tissues  of  higher  plants 
and  animals  consists  of  a  capsule  containing  a  plasma  of 
"achromatin"  not  deeply  stained  by  reagents,  ramifying 
in  which  is  a  reticulum  of  "  chromatin  "  consisting  of  fibres 
which  readily  take  a  deep  stain  (Fig.  I.,  A).  Further  if  is 
demonstrated  that,  when  the  cell  is  about  to  divide  into 
two,  definite  and  very  remarkable  movements  take  place 
in  the  nucleus,  resulting  in  the  disappearance  of  the 
capsule  and  in  an  arrangement  of  its  fibres  first  in  the 
form  of  a  wreath  (Fig.  I.,  D)  and  subsequently  (by  the 
breaking  of  the  loops  formed  by  the  fibres)  in  the  form  of  a 
star  (E).  A  further  movement  within  the  nucleus  leads  to 
an  arrangement  of  the  broken  loops  in  two  groups  (F),  the 
position  of  the  open  ends  of  the  broken  loops  being  reversed 


PROTOZOA 


833 


as  compared  with  what  previously  obtained.  Now  the 
two  groups  diverge,  and  in  many  cases  a  striated  appear- 
ance of  the  achromatia  substance  between  the  two  groups 
of  loops  of  chromatin  is  observable  (H).  In  some  cases 
(especially  egg-cells)  this  striated  arrangement  of  the 
achromatin  substance  precedes  the  separation  of  the  loops 
(G).  The  striated  achromatin  is  then  termed  a  "nucleus- 
spindle,"  and  the  group  of  chromatin  loops  (Fig.  I.,  G,  n) 


Fio.  I. — Karyoklnesis  of  ft  typical  tissue-cell  (er^theiium  of  Salamander)  after 
Flemminp  and  Klein.  Tlic  series  from  A  to  I  represent  tile  successive  stpgea 
In  tiie  movement  of  the  chromatin  fibres  during  division,  excepting  G,  whicli 
represents  tlie  "  nucleus-spitidie "  of  an  egc-celi.  A,  resting  nucleua;  D,  wreatli- 
form;  E,  single  star;  the  loops  of  tlie  wreath  being  brolien;  F,  separation  of  the 
star  into  two  groups  of  U-sliaped'fibres;  H.  diaster  or  double  star;  I,  comple- 
tion of  tlie  cell-division  and  formation  of  two  resting  nuclei.  In  G  the 
cliromatin  fibres  are  marlted  a,  and  correspond  to  the  pliase  shown  in  F;  they 
are  in  this  case  caiied  the  "  equatorial  plate  " ;  6,  aciiromatin  fibres  forming  the 
nocleus-spindle ;  c,  granules  of  the  celi-protoplasm  forming  a  "polar  star." 
Suelt  a  polar  star  IB  seen  at  each  end  of  the  nucleus-spindle,  and  Is  not  to  be 
confused  witii  the  diaster  H. 

is  known  as  "  the  equatorial  plate."  At  eacn  end  of 
the  nucleus-spindle  in  these  cases  there  is  often  seen  a 
star  consisting  of  granules  belonging  to  the  general  proto- 
plasm of  the  cell.(G,  c).  These  are  kno\Mi  as  "  polar  stars." 
After  the  separation  of  the  two  sets  of  loops  (H)  the 
protoplasm  of  the  general  substance  of  the  cell  becomes 
constricted,  and  division  occurs,  so  as  to  include  a  group  of 
chromatin  loops  in  each  of  the  two  fission  products.  Each 
of  these  then  rearranges  itself  together  with  the  associated 
achromatin "  into  a  nucleus  such  as  was  present,  in  the 
mother-cell  to  commence  with.  This  phenomenon  is  termed 
"  karyokinesis,"  and  has  been  observed,  as  stated  above, 
in  a  large  variety  of  cells  constituting  tissues  in  the  higher 
animals  .and  plants. 

There  is  a  tendency  among  histologists  to  assume  that 
this  process  is  carried  out  in  all  its  details  in  the  division 
of  all  cells  in  the  higher  plants  and  animals,  and  accordingly 
to  assume  that  the  structural  differentiation  of  achromatin 
plasma  and  chromatin  nucleus-fibres  exists  in  the  normal 
nucleus  of  every  such  cell.  If  this  be  true,  it  is  necessary 
to  note  very  distinctly  that  the  nucleus  of  the  Protozoon 
cell-individual  by  no  means  conforms  universally  to  this 
model.  As  will  bo  seen  in  the  sequel,  we  find  cases  in 
which  a  close  approach  is  made  by  the  nucleus  of  Protozoa 
to  this  structure  and  to  this  definite  series  of  movements 
during  division  (Fig.  VIII.  3  to  12,  and  Fig.  XXV.);  and- 
a  knowledge  of  those  phenomena  has  thrown  light  upon 
some  appearances  (conjugation  of- the  Ciliata)  which  were 
previously  misinterpreted.  But  there  are  Protozoa  with  a 
deeply-placed  nucleus-like  structure  which  does  not  pre- 
sent the  typical  structure  above  described  nor  the  tyj^ical 
changes  during  division,  but  in  which  on  the  contrary  the 
nucleus  is  a  very  simple  homogeneous  corpuscle  or  vesicle 
of  more  readily  stainable  protoplasm. 

The  difficulties  of  observation  in  this  matter  are  great, 
and  it  is  proportionately  rash  to  generalize  ;  but  it  appears 
thart  we  are  justified  at  the  present  moment  in  asserting 
that  not  aU  the  cells  even  of  higher  plants  and  animals 


exhibit  in  full  detail  the  struutui-e  and  movement  of  the 
typical  cell-nucleus  above  figured  and  described ;  and  accord- 
ingly the  fact  that  such  structure  and  movement  cannot 
always  be  detected  in  the  Protozoon  cell-nucleus  must  not 
be  regarded  as  either  an  isolated  phenomenon  peculiar  to 
such  Protozoon  cells,  nor  must  it  be  concluded  that  we  have 
only  to  improve  our  means  of  analysis  and  observation  in 
order  to  detect  this  particular  structure  in  all  nuclei  It 
seems  quite  possible  and  even  probable  that  nuclei  may 
vary  in  these  details  and  yet  be  true  nuclei.  Some  nuclei 
•which  are  observed  in  Protozoon  cell-bodies  may  be  regarded 
as  being  at  a  lower  stage  of  differentiation  and  specializa- 
tion than  are  those  of  the  epithelial  and  embryonic  cells 
of  higher  animals  which  exhibit  typical  karyokinesis. 
Others  on  the  contrary,  such'  as  the  nuclei  of  some 
Radiolaria  {vide  infra),  are  probably  to  be  regarded  as 
more  highly  developed  than  any  tissue  cell-nuclei,  and  will 
be  found  by  further  study  to  present  special  phenomena 
peculiar  to  themselves.  In  some  of  the  highest  Protozoa 
(the  Ciliata)  it  has  lately  been  shown  that  the  nucleus 
may  have  no  existence  as  such,  but  is  actually  dispersed 
throughout  the  protoplasm  in  the  form  of  fine  particles  of 
chromatin-substance  which  stain  on  treatment  with  car- 
mine but  are  in  life  invisible  (84).  This  difi'use  condition 
of  the  nuclear  matter  has  no  parallel,  at  present  known,  in 
tissue-cells,  and  curiously  enough  occurs  in  certain  genera 
of  Ciliata  whilst  in  others  closely  allied  to  them  a  solid 
single  nucleus  is  found.  The  new  results  of  histological 
research  have  necess-itated  a  careful  study  of  the  nucleus 
in  its  various  stages  of  growth  and  division  in  the  cell- 
bodies  of  Protozoa  and  a  comparison  of  the  features  there 
observed  with  those  established  as  "  typical "  in  tissue-cells. 
Accordingly  we  have  placed  the  figure  and  explanation  ot 
the  typical  cell-nucleus  in  the  first  place  in  this  article  fo* 
subsequent  reference  and  comparison. 

Cortical  Substance.— The  superficial  protoplasm  of 
an  embryonic  cell  of  an  Enterozoon  in  the  course  of  its 
development  into  a  muscular  cell  undergoes  a  change 
which  is  paralleled  in  many  Protozoa.  The  cortical  layer 
becomes  dense  and  highly  refringent  as  compared  with  the 
more  Liquid  and  granular  medullary  Substance.  Probably 
this  is  essentially  a  change- in  the  degree  of  hydration  of 
the  protoplasm  itself,  although  it  may  be  accompanied  by 
the  deposition  of  metamorphic  products  of  the  protoplasm 
which  are  not  chemically  to  be  regarded  as  protoplasm. 
The  differentiation  of  this  cortical  substance  (which  is  not 
a  frequent  or  striking  phenomenon  in  tissue-ceils)  may  bo 
regarded  as  an  ectoplastic  (i.e.,  peripheral)  modification 
of  the  protoplasm,  comparable  to  the  entoplastic  (central) 
modification  which  produces  a  nucleus. 

The  formation  of  "  cortical  substance "  in  the  Protozoa 
furnishes  the  basis  for  th&  most  important  division  into 
lower  and  higher  forms,  in  this  assemblage  of  simplest 
animals.  A  largo  number  (the  Gymnomyxa)  form  no 
cortical  substance ;  their  jvrotoplasm  is  practically  (except- 
ing the  nucleus)  of  the  same  character  throughout.  A 
nearly  equally  largo  number  (the  Corticata)  develop  a 
complete  cortical  layer  of  denser  protoplasm,  which  is 
distinct  from  the  deeper  medullary  protoplasm.  This 
layer  ij  permanent,  and  gives  to  the  body  a  definite  shape 
and  entails  physiological  consequences  of.  great,  moment. 
The  cortical  protoplasm  may  exhibit  further  specialization  ol 
structure  in  coiinexion  with  contractile  functions  (muscular)j 
Ectoplastic  Products  chemically  pistinct  from 
Protoplasm. — The  protoplasm  of  all  cells  may  throw  down 
as  a  molecular  precipitate  distinct  from  itself  chemical 
compound.s,  sucll  as  chitin  and  horny  matter  and  other 
nitrogenized  bodies,  or  again  non-nitrogenous  conipounds, 
such  as  cellulose.  Very  usually  these  substances  arc 
deposited   not  external  to  but  in   the  superficial   proto- 

•  XIX.  —  los 


834 


PROTOZOA 


plasm.  Tliey  are  then  spoken  of  as  ce.U-cuticle  if  the  cell 
bounds  the  free  surface  of  a  tissue,  or  as  matrix  or  cell-wall 
in  other  cases.  The  Protozoon  cell-body  frequently  forms 
such  "cuticles,"  sometimes  of  the  most  delicate  and 
evanescent  character  (as  in  some  Amcebse),  at  other  times 
thicker  and  more  permanent.  They  may  give  indications 
(though  proper  chemical  examination  is  difficult)  of  being 
allied  in  composition  to  chitin  or  gelatin,  in  other  instances 
to  cellulose,  which  is  rare  in  animals  and  usual  in  plants. 
These  cuticular  deposits  may  be  absent,  or  may  form  thin 
envelopes  or  in  other  cases  jelly-like  substance  intimately 
mixed  with  the  protoplasm  (Radiolaria).  They  may  take 
the  form  of  hooks,  tubercles,  or  long  spines,  in  their 
older  and  more  peripheral  parts  free  from  permeation  by 
protoplasm,  though  deeply  formed  in  and  interpenetrated 
by  it.  Such  pellicles  and  cuticles,  the  deeper  layers  (if  not 
the  whole)  of  which  are  permeated  by  protoplasm,  lead 
insensibly  to  another  category  of  ectoplastic  products  in 
which  the  material  produced  by  the  protoplasm  is  separated 
from  it  and  can  be  detached  from  or  deserted  by  the  proto- 
plasm without  any  rupture  of  the  latter.     These  are — 

Shells  and  Cpsts.  —  Such  separable-  investments  are 
formed  by  the  cell-bodies  of  many  Protozoa,  a  phenomenon 
not  exhibited  by  tissue-cells.  Even  the  cell-walls  of  the 
protoplasmic  corpuscles  of  plant  tissues  are  permeated  by 
that  protoplasm,  and  could  not  be  stripped  off  without 
rupture  of  the  protoplasm.  The  shell  and  the  cyst  of  the 
Protozoon  are,  on  the  contrary,  quite  free  from  the  cell- 
protoplasm.  The  shell  may  be  of  soft  chitin-like  sub- 
stance- (Gromia,  &c.),  of  cellulose  (Labyrinthula,  Dino- 
flagellata),  of  calcium  carbonate  (Globigerina,  &c.),  or  of 
silica  (Clathrulina,  Codonella).  The  term  "cyst"  is  ap- 
plied to  completely  closed  investments  ("shells'  having 
one  or  more  apertures),  which  are  temporarily  produced 
either  as  a  protection  against  adverse  external  conditions 
or  during  the  breaking  up  of  the  parent-cell  into  spores. 
Such  cysts  are  usually  horny. 

Stalks. — By  a  localization  of  the  products  of  ectoplastic 
activity  the  Protozoon  cell  can  produce  a  fibre  or  stalk  of 
ever-increasing  length,  comparable  to  the  seta  of  a 
Chfetopod  worm  produced  on  the  surface  of  a  single  cell. 

Entoplastic  Products  distinct  from  Protoplasm. — 
Without  pausing  here  to  discuss  the  nature  of  the  finest 
granules  which  are  embedded  as  a  dust-cloud  in  the  hyaline 
matrix  of  the  purest  protoplasm  alike  of  Protozoa  and  of 
the  cells  of  higher  animals  and  plants,  and  leaving  aside 
the  discussion  of  the  generalization  that  all  protoplasm 
presents  a  reticular  structure,  denser  trabeculae  of  extreme 
minuteness  traversing  more  liquid  material,  it  is  intended 
here  merely  to  point  to  some  of  the  coarser  features  of 
structure  and  chemical  differentiation,  characteristic  of  the 
cell-body  of  Protozoa. 

With  regard  to  the  ultimate  reticular  structure  of 
protoplasm  it  will  suffice  to  state  that  such  structure  has 
been  shown  to  obtain  in  not  a  few  instances  (e.,17.,  Lith- 
amceba,  Fig.  V.),  whilst  in  most  Protozoa  the  methods  of 
microscopy  at  present  applied  have  not  yielded  evidence 
of  it,  although  it  is  not  improbable  that  a  recticular 
differentiation  of  the  general  protoplasm  similar  to  that  of 
the  nucleus  may  be  found  to  exist  in  all  cells. 

Most  vegetable  cells  and  many  cells  of  animal  tissues 
exhibit  vacuolation  of  the  protoplasm  ;  i.e.,  large  spaces  are 
present  in  the  protoplasm  occupied  by  a  liquid  which  is  not 
protoplasm  and  is  little  more  than  water  with  diffusible 
sa'ts  in  solution.  Such  vacuoles  are  common  in  Protozoa. 
Thej  are  either  permanent,  gastric,  or  contractile. 

Permanent  vacuoles  containing  a  watwy  fluid  are  some- 
times so  abundant  as  to  give  the  protoplasm  a  "bubbly" 
structure  (Thalamophora,  Radiolaria,  &c.),  or  may  merely 
give  to  it  a  trabecular  character  (Trachelius,  Fig.  XXIV. 


14,  and  Noctiluca,  Fig.  XXVI.  18).  Such  vacuoles  maj 
contain  other  matters  than  water,  namely,  special  chemica' 
secretions  of  the  protoplasm.  Of  this  nature  are  oil-drops, 
and  from  these  we  are  led  to  those  deposits  within  the 
cell-protoplasm  which  are  of  solid  consistence  (see  below).' 

Gastric  vacuoles  occur  in  the  protoplasm  of  most  Proto 
zoa  in  consequence  of  the  taking  in  of  a  certain  quantitj 
of  water  with  each  solid  particle  of  food,  such  ingestion  o> 
solid  food-particles  being  a  characteristic  process  bound  up 
with  their  animal  nature. 

Contractile  vacuoles  are  frequently  but  not  universally 
observed  in  the  protoplasm  of  Protozoa.  They  are  not 
observed  in  the  protoplasm  of  tissue-cells.  The  contracJ 
tile  vacuole  whilst  under  observation  may  be  seen  to 
burst,  breaking  the  surface  of  the  Protozoon  and  discharg 
ing  its  liquid  contents  to  the  exterior ;  its  walls,  formed  of 
undifferentiated  protoplasm,  then  collapse  and  fuse.  Aftei 
a  short  interval  it  re-forms  by  slow  accumulation  of  liquid 
at  the  same  or  a  neighbouring  spot  in  the  protoplasm. 
The  liquid  is  separated  at  this  point  by  an  active  process 
taking  place  in  the  protoplasm  which  probably  is  of  an 
excretory  nature,  the  separated  water  carrying  with  it 
nitrogenous  waste-products.  A  similar  active  formation 
of  vacuoles  containing  fluid  is  observed  in  a  few  instances 
(Arcella,  some  Amoebae)  where  the  protoplasm  separates  a 
gas  instead  of  liquid,  and  the  gas  vacuole  so  produced  ap- 
pears to  serve  a  hydrostatic  function. 

Corpuscular  and  Aviorpltiov&  Entoplastic  Solids. — Con- 
cretions of  undetermined  nature  are  occasionally  formed 
within  the  protoplasm  of  Protozoon  cells,  as  are  starch  and 
nitrogenized  concretions  in  tissue-cells  (Lithamceba,  Fig. 
V.  C071C.).  But  the  most  important  corpuscular  products 
after  the  nucleus,  which  we  have  already  discussed,  are 
chlorophyll  corpuscles.  These  are  (as  in  plants)  concavo- 
convex  or  spherical  corpuscles  of  dense  protoplasm  resem-' 
bling  that  of  the  nucleus,  which  are  impregnated  superfi- 
cially with  the  green-coloured  substance  known  as  chloro- 
phyll. They  multiply  by  fission,  usually  tetraschietic, 
independently  of  the  general  protoplasm.  They  occur  in 
representatives  of  many  different  groups  of  Protozoa  (Pro- 
teomysa,  Heliozoa,  Labyrinthulidea,  Flagellata,  Ciliata), 
but  are  confined  to  a  few  species.  Similar  corpuscles  or 
band-like  structures  coloured  by  other  pigments  are  occa- 
sionally met  with  (Dinoflagellata). 

Recently  it  has  been  maintained  (Brandt,  5)  that  the 
chlorophyll  corpuscles  of-  Protozoa  and  other  animals  are 
parasitic  Algse.  But,  though  it  is  true  that  parasitic  Algae 
occur  in  animal  tissues,  and  that  probably  this  is  the  nature 
of  the  yellow  cells  of  Radiolaria,  yet  there  seems  to  be  no 
more  justification  for  regarding  the  chlorophyll  corpuscles 
of  animal  tissue-cells  and  of  Protozoa  as  parasites  than 
there  is  for  so  regarding  the  chlorophyll  corpuscles  of  the 
leaves  of  an  ordinary  green  plant. 

Corpuscles  of  starch,  paramylum,  and  other  amyloid 
substances  are  commonly  formed  in  the  Flagellata,  whose 
nutrition  is  to  a  large  extent  plant-like. 

Entoplastic  Fibres. — A  fibrillation  of  the  protoplasm 'of 
the  Protozoon  cell-body  may  be  produced  by  differentia- 
tion of  less  and  more  dense  tracts  of  the  protoplasm  itself. 
But  as  distinct  from  this  we  find  horny  fibres  occasionally 
produced  within  the  protoplasm  (Heliozoa)  having  definite 
skeletal  functions.  The  threads  produced  in  little  cavities 
in  t*ie  superficial  protoplasm  of  many  Ciliate  Protozoa, 
known  as  trichocysts,  may  be  mentioned  here.'; 

Entoplastic  Spicules.  :r-  Needle-Uke  bodies  'consisting 
either  of  silica  or  of  a  horny  substance  (acanthin)  are 
produced  in  the  protoplasm  of  many  Protozoa  (Heliozoa, 
Radiolaria).  These  are  known  as  spicules ;  they  may  be 
free  or  held  together  in  groups  and  arranged  either  radially 
or  tangeotially  in  reference  to  the  more  or  less  spherical 


\ 


PROTOZOA 


833 


body  of  the  Protozoon.  A  similar  production  of  siliceous 
spicules  is  observed  in  the  tissue-cells  of  Sponges.  Crys- 
tals of  various  chemical  nature  (silica,  calcium  carbonate, 
oxalate,  (fcc.)  are  also  frequently  deposited  in  the  protoplasm 
of  the  Protozoa,  differing  essentially  from  spicules  in  that 
their  shape  is  due  purely  to  crystallization. 

Gi';NER.\L  FoKM  OF  THE  Peotozoon  Cell. — Those  Proto- 
zoa which  have  not  a  differentiated  cortical  substance,  and 
are  known  as  Gymnomyxa,  present  very  generally  an 
extrewe  irregularity  of  contour.  Their  protoplasm,  being 
liquid  rather  than  viscous,  flows  into  the  most  irregular 
shapes.  Their  fundamental  form  when  at  rest  is  in  many 
tases  that  of  the  sphere ;  others  are  discoidal  or  may  be 
monaxial,  that  is  to  say,  show  a  differentiation  of  one 
region  or  "  end  "  of  the  body  from  the  other.  Frequently 
the  protoplasm  is  drawn  out  into  long  threads  or  filaments 
which  radiate  uniformly  from  all  parts  of  the  spherical  or 
discoidal  cell-body  or  originate  from  one  region  to  the 
exclusion  of  other  parts  of  the  surface. 

These  non-corticate  Protozoa  can  take  solid  particles  of 
food  into  their  protoplasm,  there  to  be  digested  in  an 
extemporized  "gastric  vacuole,"  at  any  part  or  most  parts 
of  their  superficies.  They  have  no  permanent  cell-mouth 
leading  into  the  soft  protoplasm  since  that  soft  protoplasm 
is  everywhere  freely  exposed. 

The  corticate  Protozoa  have  (with  the  exception  of  some 
parasites)  one,  and  in  the  Acinetaria  more  than  one,  de- 
finite aperture  in  the  cortical  substance  leading  into  the 
softer  medullary  protoplasm.  This  is  the  cell- mouth, — 
morphologically  as  distinct  from  the  mouth  of  an  Entero- 
zoon  as  is  the  hole  in  a  drain  pipe  from  the  front  door  of 
a  house,  but  physiologically  subserving  the^same  distinc- 
tively animal  function  as  docs  the  mouth  of  multicellular 
animals.  The  general  form  of  the  body  is  in  these  Proto- 
zoa oblong,  with  either  monaxial  symmetry,  when  the 
mouth  is  terminal,  or  bilateral  symmetr}',  when  the  body 
is  oblong  and  flattened  and  the  mouth  is  towards  one  end 
of  what  becomes  by  its  presence  the  "  ventral "  surface. 
Though  the  protoplasm  is  not  nakedly  exposed  in  irregular 
lobes  and  long'  filaments  in  these  corticate  Protozoa  so  as 
to  pick  up  at  all  points  such  food-particles  as  may  fall  in 
its  way,  yet  the  protoplasm  does  in  most  Cofticata  project 
in  one  or  more  peculiarly  modified  fine  hair-like  processes 
from  the  otherwise  smooth  surface  of  the  cell-body. 
These  processes  are  vihratile  cilia,  identical  in  character 
with  the  vibratile  cilia  of  epithelial  tissue-cells  of  Entero- 
zoa.  They  are  essentially  locomotor  and  current-produc- 
ing (therefore  prehensile)  organs,  and,  whilst  unable  to 
ingest  solid  food-particles  themselves,  serve  to  propel  the 
organism  in  search  of  food  and  to  bring  food  into  the  cell- 
mouth  by  the  currents  which  they  excite.  Either  a  single 
vibratile  filament  is  present,  when  it  is  called  a  flagellum, 
or  a  row  or  many  rows  of  cilia  are  developed. 

Constituent  cells  of  the  Enterozoa  are  well  known  which 
closely  resemble  some  of  the  Gymnomyxa  or  non-corticate 
Protozoa  in  their  general  form.  These  are  the  colourless 
blood  corpuscles  or  lymph  corpuscles  or  phagocytes  (Mecz- 
nikow,  6)  which  float  freely  in  the  blood  and  ingest  solid 
particles  at  any  part  of  their  surface  as  do  non-corticated 
Protozoa ;  they  exhibit  a  similar  irregularity  and  muta- 
bility of  outline,  and  actually  digest  the  particles  which 
they  take  in.  The  endodermal  digestive  cells  of  some 
Enterozoa  (Coelentera  and  Planarians)  are  also  naked  proto- 
plasmic corpuscles  and  can  take  in  solid  food-particles. 

No  tissue-cells  are  known  wnich  present  any  close 
parallel  to  the  mouth-bearing  corticate  Protozoa.  The 
differentiation  of  the  structure  of  a  single  cell  has  in  these 
forms  reached  a  very  high  degree,  which  it  is  not  surpris- 
ing to  find  without  parallel  among  the  units  which  build 
up  the  individual  of  a  higher  order  known  as  an  Eutero- 


zoon.  Cilia  are  developed  on  such  cell-units  (ciliated 
epithelium),  but  not  used  for  the  introduction  of  food- 
particles  into  the  cell.  In  rare  cases  (the  ciliated  "pots* 
of  the  vascular  fluid  of  Sipunculus)  they  act  so  as  to  freely 
propel  the  ciliated  cell  through  the  liquid  "blood"  of  the 
Enterozoon,  as  the  cilia  of  a  Protozoon  propel  it  through 
water.  An  aperture  in  the  cortical  substance  (of  in 
the  cuticular  product)  of  a  tissue-cell  is  sometimes  to  be 
observed,  but  is  never  (!)  used  for  the  ingestion  of  food 
particles.  Such  an  aperture  occurs  in  unicellular  glands^ 
where  it  serves  as  the  outlet  of  the  secretion. 

Physiology. 

Motion. — As  has  just  been  hinted,  the  movement  ol 
protoplasm,  which  in  the  tissue-cells  of  Enterozoa  an^ 
liigher  plants  is  combined  and  directed  so  as  to  produce 
effects  in  relation  to  the  whole  organism  built  up  of 
countless  cells,  is  seen  in  the  Protozoa  in  a  different 
relation,  namely,  as  subserving  the  needs  of  the  individua. 
cell  of  which  the  moving  protoplasm  is  the  main  sul> 
stance.  The  phenomena  known  in  tissue-cells  as  "  stream- 
ing" (e.y.,  in  the  cells  of  the  hairs  of  Tiudescantia) 
as  local  contraction  and  change  of  form  (  .,  in  tht 
corpuscles  of  the  cornea),  as  muscular  contraction,  and  as 
ciliary  movement  are  all  exhibited  by  the  protoplasm  of 
the  cell-body  of  Protozoa,  with  more  or  less  constancy, 
and  are  intimately  related  to  the  processes  of  hunting, 
seizing,  and  ingesting  food,  and  of  the  intercourse  of  tha 
individuals  of  a  species  with  one  another  and  their  evasion 
of  hostile  agencies.  Granule  streaming  and  the  inipliec, 
movement  of  currents  in  the  protoplasm  are  seen  in  tha 
filamentous  protoplasm  of  the  Heliozoa,  Eadiolaria,  Reti-< 
cularia,  and  Noctiluea,  and  in  tli«  cyclosis  of  the  gastric 
vacuoles  of  Ciliata.  Local  contraction  and  change  of  form 
is  seen  best  in  the  Amcebse  and  some  Flagellata,  where  it 
results  in  locomotion.  Definite  muscular  contraction  is 
exhibited  by  the  protoplasmic  band  in  the'  stalk  of  Vorti 
cella,  by  the  leg-lilce  processes  of  the  Hypotrichous  Ciliata, 
and  by  the  cortical  substance  of  some  large  Ciliata.  Cili 
ary  movement  ranging  from  the  vibration  of  filaments  of 
protoplasm  temporarily  evolved,  up  to  the  rhythmic  beat 
of  groups  of  specialized  cilia.  Is  observed  in  all  groups  of 
Protozoa  in  the  young  condition  if  not  in  the  adult,  and 
special  varieties  of  ciliary  movement  and  of  cilia-like 
organs  will  be  noted  below.  For  an  account  of  the  con- 
ditions and  character  of  protoplasmic  movement  generally 
which  cannot  be  discussed  in  the  present  article  the  reader 
is  referred  to  Engelmann  (7). 

The  protoplasm  of  the  cell-body  of  the  Protozoa  is  drawn 
out  into  lobes  and  threads  which  are  motile  and  are  used 
as  locomotive  and  prehensile  organs.  These  processes  are 
of  two  kinds,  which  arc  not  present  on  the  same  cell  and 
are  not  capable  of  transmutation,  though  there  are  excep- 
tions to  both  of  these  statements.  The  one  kind  art 
termed  "  pseudopodia,"  and  are  cither  lobose  or  filamentous 
or  branched  and  even  reticular  (Figs.  IV.  and  IX.).  The  Pro^ 
tozoa  whicb  exhibit  them  are  sometimes  termed  Myxopods. 
The  other  kind  are  cilia  and  flagella,  and  are  simple  thread? 
which  are  alternately  bent  and  straightened  almost  inces- 
santly during  the  life  of  the  organism.  These  Protozoa 
are  termed  Mastigopods.  Whilst  the  cilia  and  flagella  are 
permanent  organs,  the  pseudopodia  vary  greatly  in  char- 
acter ;  they  aro  in  some  cases  rapidly  expanded  and  witli 
drawn  in  irregular  form,  and  can  hardly  be  said  to  be  mors 
than  lobose  protuberances  of  the  flowing  moving  mass  of 
protoplasm.  In  other  cases  they  aro  comparatively  per 
manent  stiff  threads  of  protoplasm  which  can  be  contracted 
and  can  fuse  with  one  another  but  rarely  do  so  (Heliozoa, 
Eadiolaria).  Between  these  extreme  forms  of  "pseudo- 
podia "  there  are  numerous  intermediate  varieties,  and  the 


836 


PROTOZOA 


whole  protoplasmic  body  of  the  ProtozooD  may  even 
assume  the  form  of  a  slowly  changing  network  of  threads 
of  greater  or  less  tenuity  (Chlamydomyxa,  Fig.  VI.). 

Nutrition. — Typically — that  is  to  say,  by  determinate 
hereditary  tendency — the  Protozoa  take  solid  food-particles 
into  their  protoplasm  which  form  and  occupy  with  the  water 
surrounding  them  "  gastric  vacuoles  "  in  the  protoplasm. 
The  food-particle  is  digested  in  this  vacuole,  by  what 
chemical  processes  is  not  ascertained.  It  has  been  shown 
that  the  contents  of  the  gastric  vacuole  give  in  some  cases 
an  acid  reaction,  and  it  is  not  improbable  that  free  acid  is 
secreted  by  the  surrounding  protoplasm.  It  is  not  known 
whether  any  ferment  ^  is  separated  by  the  protoplasm, 
■but  it  is  probable  from  obsei-vations  made  on  the  digestive 
process  of  Coelentera  (Actinia)  that  the  ferment  is  not 
separated,  but  that  actual  contact  of  the  food-particle  with 
the  protoplasm  is  necessary  for  a  "  ferment  influence  "  to  be 
exerted.  The  digestion  of  a  food-particle  by  a  -Protozoon 
is  intra-cellular,  and  has  been  contrasted  with  the  cavitary 
digestion  of  higher  animals.  In  the  latter,  fernients  and 
acids  are  poured  out  by  the  cells  bounding  the  enteric 
cavity  into  that  space,  and  digestion  is  extra-cellular.  In 
the  lowest  Enterozoa  (many  Coelentera  and  some  Planarian 
worms)  it  has  been  shown  that  food-particles  are  actually 
taken  up  in  a  solid  state  by  the  soft  protoplasm  of  the 
enteric  cells  and  thus  subjected  to  intracellular  digestion. 
There  appears  to  be  a  gradual  transition  from  this  process, 
in  which  close  contact  with  living  protoplasm  is  necessary 
that  the  solution  of  an  albuminous  food-particle  may  be 
effected,  onwards  to  the  perfectly  free  cavitary  digestion 
by  means  of  secretions  accumulated  in  the  enteron. 

We  have  not  yet  any  satisfactory  observation.s  on  the 
chemistry  of  intracellular  digestion  either  of  Protozoa  or 
of  Coelentera. 

Certain  Protozoa  which  are  parasitic  do  not  take  solid 
food  particles ;  they  (like  higher  parasites,  such  as  the 
Tapeworms)  live  in  the  nutritious  juices  of  other  animals 
and  absorb  these  by  their  general  surface  in  a  liquid  state. 
The  Gregarinse  (Sporozoa),  many  Ciliata,  &c.,  are  in  this 
case.  Other  Protozoa  are  known  which  are  provided  with 
chlorophyll  corpuscles  and  do  not  take  in  solid  food,  but, 
apparently  as  a  result  of  exceptional  adaptation  in  which 
they  diBfer  from  closely-allied  forms,  nourish  themselves 
as  do  green  plants.  Such  are  the  Volvocinean  Flagellata 
and  some  of  the  Dinoflagellata.  It  has  also  been  asserted 
that  other  Protozoa  (viz.,  some  Ciliata) — even  some  which 
possess  a  well-developed  mouth — can  (and  experimentally 
have  been  made  to)  nourish  themselves  on  nitrogenous, 
compounds  of  a  lower  grade  than  albumens^such,  for 
instance,  as  ammonium  tartrate.  Any  such  assertions 
must  be  viewed  with  the  keenest  scepticism,  since  experi- 
mental demonstration  of  the  absence  of  minute  albuminous 
particles  (e.g.,  Bacteria)  from  a  solution  of  ammonium 
tartrate  in  which  Ciliate  Protozoa  are  flourishing  is  a 
matter  of  extreme  difficulty  and  has  not  yet  been  effected. 

Undigested  food-remnants  are  expelled  by  the  protoplasm 
of  the  Protozoon  cell  either  at  any  point  of  the  surface  or 
by  the  cell-mouth  or  by  a  special  cell-anus  (some  Ciliata, 
see  Fig.  XXIV.  22). 

Respiration  and  Exa'etion. — The  protoplasm  of  the 
Protozoa  respires,  that  is,  takes  up  oxygen  and  liberates 
carbonic  acid,  and  can  readUy  be  shown  experimentally 
to  require  a  supply  of  oxygen  for  the  manifestation  of  its 
activity.  No  special  respiratory  structures  are  developed 
in  any  Protozoa,  and  as  a  rule  also  the  products  of  oxida- 
tion appear  to  be  washed  out  and  removed  from  the  proto- 
plasm without   the   existence   of  any  special  apparatus. 

'  The  digestive  ferment  pepsin  has  been  detected  by  Krukenberg  in 
the  plasmodiam  of  the  Mycetozoon  Fuligo  (flowera  of  tan).  See  on 
this  aubject  Zopf  (13),  p.  88. 


The  contractile  vacuole  which  exists  in  so  many  Protozfia 
appears,  however,  to  be  an  excretory  organ.  It  has  been 
sliown  to  rapidly  excrete  in  a  state  of  solution  colouring 
-  matters  (anilin  blue)  which  have  been  administered  with 
food  particles  (8).  No  evidence  has  been  adduced  to  show 
whether  traces  of  nitrogenous  waste-products  are  present 
in  the  water  expelled  by  the  contractile  vacuole. 

Chemical  Metamorphosis. — The  form  which  the  various 
products  of  the  activity  of  the  Protozoon's  protoplasm  may 
assume  has  been  noted  above.  It  will  be  sufficient  here 
to  point  out  that  the  range  of  chemical  capacities  is  quite 
as  great  as  in  the  cells  of  the  higher  Enterozoa.  Chiiin, 
cellulose,  silicon,  calcium  carbonate,  fats,  pigments,  and 
gases  can  be  both  deposited  and  absorbed  by  it.  Owing 
to  the  minuteness  of  the  Protozoa,  we  are  at  present  unable 
to  recognize  and  do  justice  to  the  variety  of  chemical  bodies 
which  undoubtedly  must  play  a  part  in  their  economy  as 
the  result  of  the  manufacturing  activity  of  their  pro- 
toplasm.    See,  however,  Zopf  (13),  p.  71. 

Growth  and  Reproduction. — The  Protozoon  cell  follows 
the  same  course  as  tissue-cells,  in  that  by  assimilation  of 
nutriment  its  protoplasm  increases  in  volume  and  reaches 
a  certain  bulk,  when  its  cohesion  fails  and  the  viscid 
droplet  divides  into  two.  The  coefficient  of  cohesion 
varies  in  different  genera  and  species,  but  sooner  or  later 
the  disrupting  forces  lead  to  division,  and  thus  to  multi- 
plication of  individuals  or  reproduction.  The  phenomena 
connected  with  the  division  of  the  nucleus  (already  alluded 
to)  will  be  noticed  in  particular  cases  below. 

Whilst  simple  binary  division  is  almost  without  excep- 
tion a  chief  method  of  reproduction  among  the  Protozoa, 
it  is  also  very  usual,  and  probably  this  would  be  found  if 
our  knowledge  were  complete  to  have  few  exceptions,  that 
under  given  conditions  the  Protozoon  breaks  np  rapidly 
into  many  (from  ten  to  a  hundred  or  more)  little  pieces, 
each  of  which  leads  an  independent  life  and  grows  to  the 
form  and  size  of  its  parent.  It  will  then  multiply  by 
binary  division,  some  of  the  products  of  which  division 
will  in  their  turn  divide  into  small  fragments.  The  small 
fragments  are  called  "spores."  Usually  the  Protozoon 
before  breaking  up  into  spores  forms  a  "  cyst  "  (see  above) 
around  itself.  Frequently,  but  not  as  a  necessary  rule, 
two  (rarely  three  or  more)  Protozoon  cell-individuals  come 
together  and  fuse  into  one  mass  before  breaking  up  into 
spores.  This  process  is  known  as  "conjugation;"  and 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  physiological  significance 
of  the  process  is  similar  to  that  of  sexual  fertilization, 
namely,  that  the  new  spores  are  not  merely  fragments  of 
an  old  individual  but  are  something  totally  new  inasmuch 
as  they  consist  of  a  combination  of  the  substance  of  indi- 
viduals who  have  had  different  life  experiences. 

Whilst  spore-formation  is  not  necessarily  preceded  by 
conjugation,  conjugation  is  not  necessarily  followed  by 
spore-formation.  Among  the  Mycetozoa  the  young  indi- 
viduals producea  from  spores  conjugate  at  a  very  early 
period  of  growth  in  numbers  and  form  "plasmodia,"  and 
after  a  considerable  interval  of  feeding  and  growth  the 
formation  of  spores  takes  place.  Still  more  remarkable  is 
the  fact  observed  among  the  Ciliata  where  two  individuals 
conjugate  and  after  a  brief  fusion  and  mixture  of  their 
respective  protoplasm  separate,  neither  individual  (as  far 
as  certain  genera  at  least  are  concerned)  breaking  up  into 
spores,  but  simply  resuming  the  process  of  growth  and 
recurrent  binary  division  with  increased  vigour. 

There  is  certainly  no  marked  line  to  be  drawn  between 
reproduction  by  simple  fission  and  reproduction  by  spore- 
formation  ;  both  are  a  more  or  less  complete  dividing  of 
the  parent  protoplasm  into  separate  masses ;  whether  the 
products  of  the  first  fission  are  allowed  to  nourish  them- 
selves and  grow  before  further  fission  is  carried  out  or  not 


PROTOZOA 


837 


does  uot  consfitute  an  essential  difference.  The  fission  of 
the  Ciliate  Protozoon,  Opaliua  (see  below  Fig.  XXIV.  4-8), 
is  a  step  from  the  ordinary  process  of  delayed  binary  divi- 
sioQ  towards  spore-formation.  In  some  Protozoa  spores  are 
produced  after  encystation  by  a  perfectly  regular  process 
of  cleavage  (comparable  to  the  cleavage  of  the  egg-cell 
of  Euterozoa)  —first  two,  then  four,  then  eight,  sixteen, 
and  thirty-twa  fission 'products  being  the  .  result  (see 
Figv  XX.'  24,  25,  &c.). 

But  more  usually  there  is  a  hastening  of  the  process, 
aud-iu  these  cases  it  is  by  no  means  clear  what  part  the 
parent  cell-nucleus  takes.  An  encysted  Gregarina  (or  two 
conjugated  Gregarinse)  suddenly  breaks  up  into  a  number 
of  equal-sized  spores,  which  do  uot  increase  in  number  by 
binary  division  and  have  not  been  formed  by  any  such 
process.  This  multicentral  segregation  of  the  parent  pro- 
toplasm is  a  marked  development  of  the  phenomenon  of 
sporulation  and  remote  from  ordinary  cell-division.  How 
it  is  related  to  ordinary  .cell-division  is  not  known,  inas- 
much as  the  changes  undergone  by  the  nucleus  in  this 
rapid  multicentral  segregation  of  the  parent  protoplasm 
have  not  been  determined.  The  spores  of  Protozoa  may 
be  naked  or  encased  singly  or  in  groups  in  little  en- 
velopes, usually  of  a  firm  horny  substance  (see  Fig. 
XX.  33  to  2G,  and  Fig.  XXTV.  15  to  18).  Whenever 
the  whole  or  a  part  of  a  Protozoon  cell  divides  rapidly 
into  a  number  of  equal-sized  pieces  which  are  simultaiie- 
ously  set  free  and  are  destined  to  reproduce  the  adult 
form,  the  term  spore  is  applied  to  such  pieces,  but  the 
details  of  their  formation  may  vary  and  also  those  of  their 
subsequent  history.  In  typical  cases  each  spore  produced 
as  the  result  of  the  fission  of  an  encysted  Protozoon  (con- 
jugated or  single)  has  its  own  protective  envelope,  as  in 
the  Mycetozoa  (Fig.  III.)  and  the  Sporozoa  (Fig.  XVIIL), 
from  which  the  contaixied  pr9toplasm  escapes  by  "  ger- 
mination "  as  a  naked  corpuscle  either  flagellate  or  amoebi- 
form.  In  some  terminologies  the  word  "  spore  "  is  limited 
to  such  a  "  coated  "  spore,  but  usually  the  naked  proto- 
plasmic particles  which  issue  from  such  "  coated  "  spores, 
or  are  formed  directly  by  the  rapid  fission  of  the  parent 
Protozoon,  are  also  called  "  spores."  The  former  condition 
is  distinguished  as  a  "chlamydospore,"  whilst  the  latter  ate 
termed  "  gymnospores."  Many  Protozoa  produce  gymno- 
spores  directly  by  the  breaking  up  of  their  protoplasm, 
and  these  are  either  "flagellulaj"  (swarm-spores)  or  "a,moe- 
buloB  "  (creeping  spores).  The  production  of  coated  spores 
is  more  usual  among  the  lower  plants  than  it  is  among 
Protozoa,  but  is  nevertheless  a  characteristic  feature  of 
the  Gregarinoe  (Sporozoa)  and  .of  the  Mycetozoa.  The 
term  "  gemma  "  or  "  bud-spore  "  is  applied  to  cases,  few 
in  number,  where  (as  in  Acinetaria,  Fig.  XXVL,  Spiro- 
ehona,  Fig.  XXIII.  10,  and  lleticularia,  Fig.  X.  8)  the 
ipores  are  gradually  nipped  off  from  the  parent-cell  .one 
or  more  at  a  time.  This  process  differs  from  ordinary 
cell-division  only  in  the  facts  (1)  that  the  products  of 
division  are  of  unequal  size — the  parent-cell  being  distin- 
guishable as  the  larger  and  more  complete  in  structure, 
and  (2)  that  usually  the  division  is  not  binary,  but  more 
than  one  bud-spore  is  produced  at  a  time. 

Whilst  in  the  binary  cell-division  of  the  Protozoa  the 
two  products  are  usually  complete  in  structure  at  the 
period  of  separation,  spores  and  .spore-buds  are  not  only  of 
small  size  and  therefore  subject  to  growth  before  attaining 
the  likeness  of  the  parent,  but  th?y  are  also  very  often  of 
simple  and  incomplete  structure.  The  gap  in  this  respect 
between  the  young  Spore  and  its  parent  necessarily  varies 
according  to  the  complexity  of  the  parental  form. 

In  the  case  of  the  Radiolaria,  of  the  Gregaringe,  <f{ 
Noctiluca,  and  of  the  Acinetaria,  for  instance,  the  spore 
bud  before  it  a  considerable  proce-is  of  development  in 


structure  and  not  merely  of  growth,  before  attaining  the 
adult  characters.  Hence  there  is  a  possible  embryology 
of  the  Protozoa,  to  the  study  of  which  the  same  prin- 
ciples are  applicable  as  are  recognized  in  the  study  of  .th« 
embryology  of  Euterozoa.  Embryonic  forms  of  great  sim- 
plicity  of  structure,  often  devoid  of  nucleus,  and  consist- 
ing of  simple  elongate  particles  of  protoplasm,  are  hatched 
from  the  spore-cases  of  the  Gregariiiae  (Fig.  XVII.  13,  14) 
These  gradually  acquire  a  differentiated  cortical  protojilasm 
and  a  nucleus.  A  very  large  number  of  Gymnorayxa  pro- 
duce  spores  which  are  termed  "  monadiforni,"  that  is,  have 
a  single  or  sometimes  two  filaments  of  vibratile  prptoplasnj 
extended  from  their  otherwise  structureless  bodies.  Bjf 
the  lashing  of  these  flagella  the  spores  (swariii-spores  or 
zoospores)  are  propelled  through  tlie  water.  The  resem- 
blance of  these  nionadiform  young  (best  called  "  flagel- 
lulse  ")  to  the  adult  forms  known  as  Flagellata  has  led  to 
the  suggestion  that  we  have  in  them  a  case  of  recapitula- 
tive development,  and  that  the  ancestors  of  the  Gymno- 
myxa  were  Protozoa  similar  to  the  Flagellata.  Again  the 
Acinetaria  produce  spores  which  are  uiiifornily  clothed 
with  numerous  vibratile  cilia  (Fig.  XXVL)j  although  the 
adults  are  entirely-  devoid  of  such  structures ;  this  is 
accounted  for  by  the  supposition  -that  the  Acinetaria 
have  been  developed  from  ancestors  like  the  Ciliata,  whose 
characters  are  thus  perpetuated  in  their  etnbryonic  stages. 
There  can  be  little  doubt  that  these  embryolbgical  sugges- 
tions are  on  the  whole  justified,  and  that  the-  nucleated 
Protozoa  are  the  descendants  of  non-nucleated  forms  simi- 
lar to  the  spores  of  Gymnomyxa  and  Sporozoa,  whilst  it 
seems  also  extremely  probable  that  the  ancestral  Protozoa 
were  neither  exclusively  amoeboid  in  the  movement  of 
their  protoplasm  nor  provided  with  permanent  vibratile 
filaments  (flagella  and  cilia) ;  they  were  neither  Myxopoda 
nor  Mastigopods  (to  use  the  terms  which  have  been  intro- 
duced to  express  this  difference  in  the  character  of  the 
locomotor  processes),  but  the  same  individuals  were  capable 
of  throwing  out  their  protoplasm  sometimes  in  the  form 
of  flowing  lobes  and  networks,  sometimes  in  the  form  of 
vibratile  flagella.  A  few  such  undifferentiated  forms  «xist 
at  the  present  day  among  the  Proteomyxa  aiid  in  a  little 
more  advanced  condition  among  the  lowest  Flagellata,  e.g., 
Ciliophrys. 

Death. — It  results  from  the  constitution  of  the  Proto- 
zoon body  as  a  single  cell  and  its  method  of  multiplication 
by  fission  that  death  has  no  place  as  a  natural  recurrent 
phenomenon  among  these  organisms.  Among  the  Eutero- 
zoa certain  cells  are  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  consti- 
tuent units  of  the  body  as  egg-cells  and  sperm-cells ;  these 
conjugate  and  continue  to  live,  whilst  the  remaining  cells, 
the  mere  carriers  as  it  were  of  the  immortal  reproductive 
cells,  die  and  disintegrate.  There  being  no  carrying  cells 
which  surround,  feed,  and  nurse  the  reproductive  cells  of 
Protozoa,  but  the  reproductive  cell  being  itself  and  alone 
the  individual  Protozoon,  there  is  nothing  to  die,  noUiing 
to  be  cast  off  by  the  reproductive  cell  when  entering  on  a 
new  career  of  fission.  The  bodies  of  the  higher  animals 
which  die  may  from  this  point  of  view  be  regarded  as 
something  temporary  and  non-essential,  destined  merely  to 
carry  for  a  time,  to  nurse,- and  to  nourish  the  more  import- 
ant and  deathless  fission-products  of  the  unicellular  egg. 
Some  of  these  fission-products  of  the  new  individual  de. 
velopod  from  an  egg-cell — namely,  the  cgg-cclls  and  sperm- 
cells — are  as  immortal  as  the  unicellular  Protozoon.  This 
method  of  comparing  the  unicellular  and  the  multicollulai 
organism  is  exceedingly  suggestive,  and  the  conception  we 
thus  gain  of  the  individimlity  of  the  Enterozoou  throws 
light  upon  the  phenomena  of  reproduction  and  heredity  in 
those  higher  organisms. 

Experiment  and  observation  in  this  matter  are  extremely 


838 


PROTOZOA 


difficult ;  but  we  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  there  is 
any  inherent  limit  to  the  process  of  nutrition,  growth,  and 
fission,  by  which  continuously  the  Protozoa  are  propagated. 
The  act  of  conjugation  from  time  to  time  confers  upon 
the  protoplasm  of  a  given  line  of  descent  new  properties, 
and  apparently  new  vigour.  Where  it  is  not  followed  by 
a  breaking  up  of  the  conjugated  cells  into  spores,  but  by 
separation  and  renewed  binary  fission  (Ciliata),  the  result 
is  described  simply  as  "  rejuvenescence."  The  protoplasm 
originated  by  the  successive  division  of  substance  traceable 
to  one  parent  cell  has  become  specialized,  and  in  fact  too 
closely  adapted  to  one  series  of  life-conditions ;  a  fusion 
of  substance  with  another  mass  of  protoplasm  equally 
specialized,  but  by  experience  of  a  somewhat  differing 
character,  imparts  to  the  resulting  mixture  a  new  com- 
bination of  properties,  and  the  conjugated  individuals  on 
separation  start  once  more  on  their  deathless  career  with 
renewed  youth. 

CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  PROTOZOA. 

In  attempting  a  scheme  of  classification  it  would  be  most  in 
accordance  with  the  accepted  probabilities  of  the  ancestral  history 
of  the  Protozoa  to  separate  altogether  those  forms  devoid  of  a 
nucleus  from  those  wliicli  possess  oue,  and  to  regard  them  as  a 
lower  "grade  "  of  evolution  or  differentiation  of  structure. 

By  some  systematists,  notably  Biitschli  (9),  the  presence  or 
al>sence  of  a  nucleus  has  not  been  admitted  as  a  basis  of  classifica- 
tory  JistiiictioD,  whilst  on  the  other  hand  both  HaccUel  (1)  and 
Huxley  (10)  have  insisted  on  its  importance. 

The  fact  is  that  during  recent  years  many  of  those  Protozoa 
which  were  at  pue  time  supposed  to  be  devoid  of  nucleus  even  in  a 
rudimentary  form,  and  furnished  therefore  the  tangible  basis  for  a 
lowest  group  of  "Protozoa  Homogenea"  or  -"llonera,"  have  been 
shown  by  the  application  of  improved  methods  of  microscopic 
investigation  to  possess  a  nucleus,  that  is  to  say,  a  difl'erentiated 
corpuscli^  of  denser  protoplasm  lying  witliin  the  general  protoplasm, 
and  capable  Wlien  the  organism  is  killed  by  alcohol  or  weak  acids 
of  taking  up  the  colour  of  various  dyes  (such  as  carmine  and 
hsematoxylin)  more  readily  and  permanently  than  is  the  g'cneral 
protoplasm.  In  such  cases  tlie  nucleus  may  be  very  small  and 
exhibit  none  of  the  typical  structure  of  larger  nuclei.  "  It  is  usually 
BUiTOunded  by  a  clear  (i.e.,  non-granular)  halo  of  the  general 
protoplasm  which  assists  the  observer  in  its  detection.  Nuclei 
have  beep  discovered  in  many  Heticulaiia  (Foraminifera),  a  group 
in  which 'they  were  supposed  to  be  wanting,  by  Schultze  (11)  and 
the  Hertwigs  (12)  and  more  recently  in  the  ilycetozoa  and  in 
Vampyrella  and  Protomouas  (Zopf,  13),  where  so  excellent  an 
ohserver  as  Cicnkowski  had  missed  them. 

It  seems  tliertfore  not  improbable  that  a  nucleus  is  pi-esent 
though  not  observed  in  Protomyxa,  Myxastrum,  and  other  similar 
formsavhich  have  been  by  Haeckel  i.nd  others  classed  as  "  Monera  " 
or  "  Homogenea."  The  recently  described  (14)  .Archerina  (Fig.  II. 
8,  11)  certainly  possesses  no  nucleus  in  the  usual  sense  of  that  term, 
but  it  is  possible  that  the  chlorophyll-coloured  corpuscles  of  that 
organism  should  be  considered  as  actually  representing  the  nucleus. 
Whilst  then  refraining  from  asserting  that  there  are  no  existing 
Protozoa  devoid  of  nucleus  corresponding  in  this  character  with 
non-nucleate  Pro tophyta,.  such  as  the  Bacteria,  we  shall  not  in  our 
scheme  .of  classification  institute  a  group  of  Homogenea,  hut  shall 
leave  the  taking  of  that  step  until  it  has  been  shown  after  critical 
examination  that  those  forms  now  regarded  by  some  observers  as 
Homogenea  are  really  so.  In  the  meantime  tliese  forms  will  find 
Uieir  places  alongside  of  the  Nucleata  most  nearly  allied  to  them 
in  other  characters. 

The  Protozoa  with  a  definite  permanent  cortical  substance  of 
differentiated  protoplasm  are  undoubtedly  to  be  regarded  as  evolved 
from  forms  devoid  of  such  differentiation  of  their  substance,  and 
we  accordingly  take  this  feature  as  the  indication  of  a  primary 
ivision  of  the  Protozoa.'  The  lower  grade,  the  Gymnomj-xa, 
afford  in  other  respects  evidence  of  their  being  nearly  related  to 
the  ancestral  forms  from  which  the  Corticata  (the  .higher  grade) 
have  developed.  The  Gymnomyxa  all  or  nearly  all,  whilst 
exhibiting  amceboid  movement  and  the  flowing  of  their  protoplasm 
into  "  peeudopodia "  of  very  varied  shapes,  produce  spores  which 
swint  by  means  of  one  or  two  flagella  of  vibratile  protoplasm 
Imonadiform  young  or  ilagelluh-e).     These  flagellate  young  forms 

>  The  "exoplasm"  and.  "endoplasm"  described  in  Amoebie,  &c., 
by  some  authors  are  not  distinct  layers  but  one  and  the  same  con- 
tinuous substance — what  was  internal  at  one  moment  becoming  ex- 
ternal at  another,  no  really  structural  difference  existing  between 
tliemi 


are  closely  related  to  the  Flagellata,  a  group  of  the  Corticata  from 
which  it  seems  probable  that  the  Dir.ofiagellata,  the  Ciliata,  and 
tile  Acinetaria  have  been  derived.  The  Gymnomyxa  themselves 
cannot,  on  account  of  the  small  number  of  structural  features 
which  they  oiler  as  indications  of  affinity  aud  divergence  in  genetic 
relationships  inter  so,  be  classified  with  anything  like  confidence  in 
a  genealogical  system.  We°aro  obliged  frankly  to  abandon  the 
attempt  to  associate  some  of  the  simpler  forms  with  their  nearest 
genetic  allies  and  to  content  ourselves  with  a  more  or  less  artificial 
system,  which  is  not,  however,  artificial  in  so  far  as  its  main 
groups  are  concerned.  Thus  the  genetic  solidarity  of  each  of  the 
large  classes  Hcliozoa,  Reticularia,  JIyceto?oa,  and  Radiolaria  is 
not  open  to  question.  The  Lobosa  on  the  other  hand  appear  to 
be  a  more  artificial  assemblage,  and  it  is  dilKcult  to  say  that 
genetically  there  is  any  wide  separation  between  them  and  the 
Mycetozoa  or  between  the  Mycetozoa  and  some  of  the  simplei 
forms  which  we  bring  together  under  the  class  Proteomyxa. 

The  scheme  of  classification  which  we  adopt  is  the  following :— i 

PROTOZOA. 
Grade  A.  GYMNOMYXA. 

5  Class  I.    PUOTEOMY.XA. 

(      Ex.    Vampyrella,  Frotomyxa,  ArcJurina. 

i  Class  II.   llTOErozoA. 

(      Ex.  'I'he  Eu-mycclozoa  of  Zojif. 

\  Class  III._  LnBOSA. 

I      Ex.  Avueha,  Arcclla,  Pclomyxn. 

("Class  IV.  Labti;ikthultd£A. 

I      F.x.  Labyrinthula,  Clilamydomyxa. 

I  Class  V.  Heliozoa. 

J      Ex.   Aclinophrys,  liaplddiopkrys,  ClatliruUii/i. 

j  Class  VI.  Reticularia. 

Ex.  Gromia,  Lituola,  AstrorhiM,  Globlgcrina. 
\  Cl.ass  VII.  Radiolaria. 
I.     Ex.   ThalassicoUa,  Eiicyrlidium,  Acaiithomeira. 


\ 


Sections. 
Proteana. 
Plasmodiata. 
Lobosa. 


Filosa. 


Linos  toraa. 


Grade  B.  CORTICATA. 
(  Class  I.  SroKOZO.\. 
I      Ex.   Grcffariiia,  Coccidium. 


' 


Stomato 
phora. 


Class  II.  Flagell.^ta. 

E.X..  Monas,  Salpingccea,  EugUna,  Volmx. 

Class  III.    DlNOFLAGELLATA. 

Ex.  Proroccnfrum,  Ccralium. 
Class  IV.    RnVNCnOFLAGELLATA. 

Ex.  Noctiluca. 
Class  V.  Ciliata. 

Ex.    Vorlicclla,  Faramacium,  Slenlor. 
Class  VI.  Acinetaria. 

Ex.   Acincta,  Dcndroscma. 
The  genetic  relationsliips  wliirli  probably  obtain  among  these 
groups  may  be  indicated  by  the  following  diagram  : — 

Class  Acinetaria. 

Class 
Rhyi^ho-  flagella  M. 
Class 
Di  no- flagella  t» 
CUs9  CUiata. 


Clasa  Sporozoe 


ClassifUgeUata. 


Class 
MyceUjzott. 

Class         \ 
LabyriulhuliUea  ^ 


BoznogeDea. 


-  iifera/iire.— Certain  works  of  an  older  date  dealing  with  micros 
scopic  organisms,  and  therefore  including  many  Protozoa,  have 
historical  interest.  Among  these  we  may  cite  0.  F.  Mullw, 
Aiiimakula  Ir\fusoria,  1786;  Ehrenbcrg,  Infusionslkicrchen,  1838; 


PKOTEOMYXA.] 


[PROTOZOA 


839 


Dujardin,  Hlstoire  iialurellt  del  Infusoires,  1841  ;  PiitcharJ,  In- 
fusoria, 1857. 

The  general  questions  relating  to  protoplasm  and  to  the  consti- 
tution of  the  Protozoon  body  as  a  single  cell  are  dealt  with  in  the 
following  more  recent  treatises: — Jlax  Schultzc,  Ucber  dm  Organ- 
ismus  der  Polythalamien,  1854,  and  Ucbcr  das  Proioplasjna  dcr 
Rkizopoden  und  PflanzenzeUen,  1863  ;  and  Engelmaun,  article  "  Pro- 
toplasina"  in  Hermann's  Handxoiirtcrbuch  der  P/ii/siolo(/ic,  1880. 

Special  works  of  recent  date  in  which  the  whole  or  large  groups 
of  Protozoa  are  dealt  with  in  a  systematic  manner  with  illustra- 
tions of  the  chief  known  forms  are  the  following : — Biitschli,  "  Pro- 
tozoa," in  Bronn's  Classen  mid  Ordnungen  des  T/ticircichs,  a 
comprehensive  and  richly  illustrated  treatise  now  in  course  of 
publication,  forming  the  most  exhaustive  account  of  the  subject 
matter  of  the  present  article  which  has  been  attempted  (the  writer 
desires  to  express  his  obligation  to  this  work,  from  the  plates  of 
which  a  large  proportion  of  the  woodcut  figures  here  introduced 
have  been  selected);  W.  S.  Kent,  Manual  of  the  Infusoria,  ,1882 — 
an  exhaustive  treatise  including  figures  and  descriptions  of  all 
species  of  FlagcUata,  Dinoflagellata,  Ciliata,  and  Acinetaria;  Stein, 
Ver  Organismus  der  Infusionslhicre,  18C7-1882;  Hacckel,  Die 
Radiolarien,  1862;  Archer,  "Resume  of  recent  contributions  to 
our  knowledge  of  freshwater  Rhizopoda,"  Quart.  Jour,  of  Micro- 
scopical Science,  1876-77;  Zopf,  "Pilzthiere"  (Mycctozoa),  iu 
Encyklopiidie  der  Nalunoissenschtiften,  Breslau,  1884. 

We  shall  now  proceed  to  consider  the  classes  and  orders  of 
Protozoa  in  detail 

PKOTOZOA. 

CharcKUrs. — Organisms  consisting  of  a  single  cell  or  of  a  group 
of  cells  not  differentiated  into  two  or  more  tissues ;  incapable  of 
assimilating  nitrogen  in  its  dilfusible  compounds  (ammonia  or 
nitrates)  or  carbon  in  the  form  of  carbonates,  except  in  special 
instances  which  there  is  reason  to  regard  as  directly  derived  from 
allied  forms  not  possessing  this  capacity.  The  food  of  the  Protozoa 
is  in  consequence  is  a  rule  taken  in  the  form  of  particles  into  the 
protoplasm  either  by  a  specialized  month  or  by  any  part  of  the 
naked  cell-substance,  there  to  be-digested  and  rendered  diffusible. 

Geade  a.  GYMNOUYXA,  Lankester,  1878  (64). 

Characters. — Protozoa  in  which  the  cell-protoplasm  is  entirely  or 
partially  exposed  to  the  surrounding  medium,  during  the  active 
vegetative  phase  of  the  life-history,  as  a  naked  undifferentiated 
slime  or  viscous  fluid,  which  throws  itself  into  processes  or 
"  pseudopodia"  of  various  form  either  rapidly  changing  or 
relatively  constant.  Food  can  be  taken  into  the  protoplasm  in  the 
form  of  solid  particles  at  any  point  of  its  surface  or  at  any  point 
of  a  large  exposed  area.  The  distinction  into  so-called  "cxoplasm" 
and  "  endoplasm  "  recognized  by  some  authors,  is  not  founded  on  a 
permanent  differentiation  of  substance  corresponding  to  the  cortical 
and  medullary  substance  of  Corticata,  but  is  merely  due  to  the 
centripetal  aggregation  of  granules  lying  iu  a  uniform  undiffer- 
entiated protoplasm.  The  cell-individual  exhibits  itself  under 
four  phases  of  growth  and  development — (1)  as  a  swarm-spore 
(monadiform  young  or  flagcllula)  ;  (2)  as  an  amccba  form  ;  (3)  as 
constituent  of  a  plasraodium  or  cell-fusion  or  conjugation  ;  (4)  as  a 
cyst,  which  may  bo  a  flageHula(Schwarme)-producing  cyst,  an 
amcebula-producing  cyst,  a covered-spore(chlamydospore)-producing 
cyst  (sporocyst  sens,  stric,  Zopf),  or  a  simple  resting  cyst  which 
does  not  exhibit  any  fission  of  its  contents  (hypnocyst).  Any  one 
of  these  phases  may  be  greatly  predominant  and  specialized  whilst 
the  others  are  relatively  unimportant  and  rapidly  passed  through. 

Class  I.  PKOTEOMYXA,  Lankester. 

Characters. — Gymnomyxa  which  exhibit  in  the  amoeba  phase 
various  foi-ms  of  pseudopodia  often  changing  in  the  same  individual, 
and  do  not  produce  elaborate  spore  cysts;  hence  they  are  not  re- 
ferable to  any  one  of  the  subsequent  six  classes.  Jlostly  minute 
forms,  with  small  inconspicuous  nucleus  (absent  in  son'ie?). 

A  division  into  orders  and  families  is  not  desirable,  the  group 
being  confe.iaedly  an  assemblage  of  negatively  characterized  or 
insulliciently  known  forms. 

Genera.~VampyreUa,  Cionkowski  (15);  Vampyrellidium,  Zopf 
(13);  Sjiirophora,  Zopf  {-Amtxba  radiosa,  Forty);  JIaplococcus, 
Zopf;  Leptophrijs,  llcrtwig  and  Lesser  (16);  Endyomenn,  Zopf; 
BursuUa,  Sorokin  (17)  ;  Myi-aslrum,  Hncckel  (1)  ;  Enteromyxa, 
Cienkowski  (18) ;  Co//)orffHn,  Cicnkow.ski  (19);  Pseudospora,  Cion- 
kowski (20) ;  Prolomnnas,  Cienkowsld  (15) ;  Diplophysalis,  Zopf 
(13);  Gymnococcus,  Zopf;  Aphdidium,  Zopf;  Pscudosporidium, 
Zopf;  Protomyxa,  Hacckel  (1);  Plasmodiophora,  AVornnin  (21); 
Tclramyxa,  Gobel  (22)  ;  Gloidium,  Sorokin  (23) ;  Gymnophnts, 
Cienkow.ski  (24) ;  ityxodictyum,  Hacckel  (1)  ;  JSodcria,  Wright 
(25) ;  Piomyxa,  Leidy  (92)  ;  Protogenef  Hacckel  (1)  ;  Protama:ba, 
Hacckel  (1);  Nuclearia,  Cienkowski  (20/;  Monobia,  Aim.  Sclineidor 
(27) ;  Archerina,  Lankester  (14). 

Tha  forms  here  broUR'it  tnpi-ihs-y  include  several  pcnora  Cth» 


first  nineteen)  refen-ed  by  Zopf  to  the  Jlycetozoa,  somo  again 
(Vampyrella,  Jlyxnstrum,  Nuclearia,  Monobia)  which  are  by 
Biitschli  associated  with  the  Heliozoa,  others  (Protamoeba,  Gloidium) 
referred  by  the  same  authority  to  the  Lobosa  (Ama;ba;a)  and  others 
(Colpodella,  Protomonas)  which  might  be  grouped  with  the  lower 
FlagcUata.  By  grouping  them  in  the  manner  here  adopted  we 
are  enabled  to  characterize  thoscohigher  groups  more  satisfactorily 
and  to  .give  a  just  expression  to  our  present  want  of  that  knonlcdgo 
of  the  life-history  both  of  these  forms  and  of  the  higher  Gymnomyxa 
which  when  it  is  obtained  may  enable  us  to  dispci-se  this  hetero- 
geneous class  of  Proteomyxa.  The  group  has  the  same  function 
in  relation  to  the  other  classes  of  Gymnomyxa  which  the  group 
Vermes  has  been  made  to  discharge  in  relation  to  the  betlcr  defined 
phyla  of  the  Metazoa  ;  it  is  a  lumber-room  in  which  obscure,  lowly- 
developed,  and  insufficiently  known  forms  may  be  kept  until  they 
can  be  otherwise  dealt  with. 

It  is  true  that,  thanks  to  the  researches  of  Continental  botanists 
(especially  Cienkowski  and-  Zopf),  we  know  the  life-history  of 
several  of  these  organisms;  but  we  are  none  the  less  unable  to  con- 
nect them  by  tangible  characteristics  with  other  Gymnomyxa. 

Nearly  all  of  the  above-named  genera  are  parasitic  rather  than 
"voracious,"  that  is  to  say,  they  feed  on  the  cnganized  products  of 
larger  organisms  both  plants  and  animals  (Haplococcus  is  parasitic 
in  the  muscles  of  the  pig),  into  whose  tissues  they  penetrate,  and 
do  not,  except  in  a  few  cases  (Protomyxa,  Vampyiella),  engulph 
whole  organisms,  such  as  Diatoms,  &c.,  in  their  protoplasm,  ilany 
live  upon  and  among  the  putrefying  debris  of  other  organisms 
{e.g.,  rotting  vegetable  stems  and  leaves,  excrements  of  animals), 
and  like  the  Mycctozoa  exert  a  digestive  action  upon  the  substances 
with  which  they  come  in  contact  comparable  to  the  putrefying  and 
fermentative  activity  of  the  Schizomycetes  (Bacteria). 

Fig.  II.  illustrates  four  chief  genera  of  Proteomjxa. 

Protomyxa  axirantiaca  was  described  by  Haeckol  (1),  who  found 
it  on  shells  of  Spirula  on  the  coast  of  the  Canary  Islands,  in  the 
form  of  orange  yellow  flakes  consisting  of  branching  and  reticular 
protoplasm  nourishing  itself  by  the  ingestion  of  Diatoms  and 
Peridinia.  This  condition  is  not  a  simple  amccba  phase  but  a 
"phismodium"  formed  by  the  union  of  several  young  amoebae.  The 
Plasmodium  under  certain  conditions  draws  itself  together  into  a 
spherical  form  and  secretes  a  clear  membranous  cyst  around  itself, 
and  then  breaks  up  into  some  hundreds  of  flagellula;  or  swarin- 
spores  (Fig.  II.  2).  The  diameter  of  the  cysi  is  '12  to  '2  millimetre. 
The  flagellula3  subsequently  escape  (Fig.  II.  3)  and  swim  by  Uie 
vibratile  movement  of  one  end  which  is  drawn  out  in  the  form  of  a 
coarse  flagellum.  The  swarm-spore  now  passes  into  the  amoeba 
phase  (Fig.  II.  4).  Several  of  the  small  ama;ba;  creeping  on  the 
surface  of  the  spirula-shell  then  unite  with  one  another  and  form 
a  Plasmodium  which  continues  to  nourish  itself  by  "voracious" 
inception  of  Diatoms  and  other  small-  organisms.  The  Plasmodia 
may  attain  a  diameter  of  one  millimetre  and  be  visible  by  tho 
naked  eye. 

A  nucleus  was  not  observed  by  Hacckel  in  the  spores  nor  in  the 
amoeba  phase,  nor  scattered  nuclei  in  the  Plasmodium,  but  it  is  not 
improbable  that  they  exist  and  escaped  detection  in  the  living  con- 
dition, in  consequence  of  their  not  being  searched  for  by  methods 
of  staining,  &c.,  which  have  since  come  into  use.  A  contractile 
vacuole  docs  not  exist. 

Vampyrella  spirogyrss,  Cienkowski  (Fig.  11.  5,  6,  7),  is  one  of 
several  species  assigned  to  tho  genus  Vampyrella,  all  of  which 
feed  upon  the  living  cells  of  plants.  Tho  nucleus  previously  stated 
to  be  absent  has  been  detected  by  Zopf  (13).  There  is  no  con- 
tractile vacuole.  The  amreba  phase  has  an  actinophryd  character 
(i.e.,  exhibits  fine  radiating  pseudopodia  resembling  those  of  tho 
sun-animalcule,  Actinophry.s,  one  ot  tho  Heliozoa).  This  species 
feeds  exclusively  upon  the  contents  of  tho  cells  of  Spiropyra,  efl'ect- 
ing  an  entrance  through  the  cell-wall  (Fig.  II.  6),  sucking  out  tho 
contents,  and  then  creeping  on  to  the  next  cell.  In  somo  species 
of  Vampyrella  as  many  as  four  amceba-individuals  havo  been 
observctf  to  fuse  to  form  a  small  plasmodium.  Cysts  are  formed 
which  enclose  in  this  species  a  single  amoeba-individual.  The  cyst 
often  acquires  a  second  or  third  inner  cyst  membrane  by  the 
shrinking  of  the  protoplasmic  body  after  tlio  first  encystment  and 
the  subsequent  formation  of  a  new  membrane.  Tho  eneysled  pro- 
toplasm sometimes  merely  divides  into  four  parts  ench  of  which 
creeps  out  of  the  cyst  as  an  Actinoplirys-like  amtt'ba  (Fig.  II.  7) ;  in 
other  instances  it  forms  a  dense  spore,  the  productof  which  is  not 
known. 

Protogme.^  primordialis  is  tho  name  given  by  Hacckel  to  a 
very  Eim]ile  form  with  radiating  filamentous  pseudopodia  which 
ho  observed  in  sea-water.  -  It  appcara  to  bo  the  san>o  organism  as 
that  describf-d  and  figured  by  Max  Sclniltzo  as  Amaba  porrccla, 
Schultze's  figure  is  copied  in  Fig.  1I-.  12.  No  nucleus  and  no  con- 
tractile vacuole  is  observed  in  this  foim.  It  feeds  voraciously  on 
smaller  organisms.  Its  life-history  has  not  bren  followed  over  even 
a  few  steps.  Hence  we  must  for  the  present  doubt  altogether  as  to 
its  true  affinities.  Possibly  it  is  only  a  detached  portion  ot  the 
protoplasm  of  a  larger  nucleate  Gymnomyxon.     The  s.ime  kind  of 


640 


PROTOZOA 


[PROTEOMYXA. 


doubt  is  justified  in  re^rd  to  Hacckel's  Protamoeha  primitiva,  which 
was  observed  by  him  in  pond  water  and  differs  from  Protogenes  in 
having  lobose  pseudopodia,  whilst  agreeing  with  it. in  absence  of 
nuclei,  contractile  vacuoles,  and  other  ditferentiation  of  structure. 


Fio.  n.— VaVlons  Proteomyxa.  I.  Pnlompxa  am-anliaca,  Haeckel,  Plas- 
modium phase.  The  nuked  piotoplasm  shows  kianched,  reticulate  piocisses 
(pseudopodia),  and  numerous  non-contraciile  vacuoles.  It  is  in  the  act  of  en- 
KUlphlng  a  Ccratiuni.  Shells  of  engulphed  Clliata  (Tintlnnabula)  arc  embedded 
Jeeply  io  tho  protoplasm  a.  2.  Cyst  phase  of  Protomyxa.  a,  transparent  cyst- 
wall;  i,  protoplasm  broken  up  inio  spores.  3.  FlaRellula  phase  of  Protomyxa, 
the  foi-m  assumed  by  the  spores  on  tlieii-  escape  from  the  cyst.  4.  Amcebula 
phase  of  the  same,  the  form  assumed  after  a  short  period  by  the  flaffellulK.  S. 
VamptjreUa  spirogyrie,  Cienk.,  amoeba  phase  penetrating  a  cell  of  Spirogy'ra  b 
by  a  process  of  its  protoplasm  c,  and  taking  up  the  substance  of  the  SpirogjTa 
cell,  some  of  which  is  seen  witliin  the  Vampyrella  a.  6.  Large  individual  of 
Vampyrella,  showing  pseudopodia  f,  and  food  particles  a.  The  nucleus  (thoueU 
present)  Is  not  shown  in  this  diawing.  7.  Cyst  phase  of  Vampyrella.  The 
contents  of  the  cyst  have  divided  into  four  equal  parts,  of  whiJh  three  are 
Tlsible.  One  is  commencing  to  break  its  way  (tirongh  the  cyst-wall  /;  a,  food 
particles.  8.  Avcherinn  BoUoni,  Lankestei',  showing  lobose  and  filamentous 
protoplasm,  and  three  gioups  of  chlorophyll  corpuscles.  The  protoplasm  g  is 
engulphing  a  Bacterium  >.  9.  Cyst  phase  of  Archcrina.-  o,  spinous  cyst-wall ; 
b,  green-coloured  contents.  10.  Chlorophyll  corpuscle  of  Archerina  showing 
tetrasehlstlc  division.  II.  Actinophryd  form  of  Arclierina.  b,  chlorophyll  cor- 
puscles. 12.  Protogenes  primordialii,  Haeckel  (Amxba  vorrecla,  U.  Schultze), 
from  Schultze's  figure. 

The  structureless  i-rotfvlnstac  TietworV  described  by  FTaeekel 


from  spirit-preserved  specimens  of  Atlantic  ooze  and  identified  by 
him  with  Huxley's  (28)  Bathybins,  as  also  the  similar  network 
described  by  Bessels  (29)  aa  Protobathybius,  must  be  regarded  for 
the  present  as  InsufBciently  known. 

It  is  possible  that  these  appearances  observee'  in  the  ooze  dredged 
from  great  depths  in  the  Atlantic  are  really  due  to  simple  Protozoa. 
On  the  other  hand  it  has  been  asserted  by  Sir  Wyville  Thomson, 
who  at  one  time  believed  in  the  independent  organic  nature  of 
Bathybius,  that  the  substance  taken  for  protoplasm  by  both  Huxley 
and  Haeckel  is  in  reality  a  gelatinous  precipitate  of  calcium 
sulphate  thrown  down  by  the  action  of  alcohol  upon  sea-water. 
Other  naturalists  have  pointed  to  the  possibility  of  the  protoplasmic 
network  which  Bessels  studied  in  the  living  condition  ou  board 
ship  being  detached  portions  of  the  protoplasm  of  Reticularia  and 
Radiolaria.    Tue  matter  is  one  which  requires  further  iuvestigation. 

Archerina  Boltoni  is  the  name  given  by  Lankester  (14)  to  a  very 
simple  Gymnomyxon  inhabiting  freshwater  ponds  in  company 
with  Desmids  and  other  simple  green  Algae  (Fig.  II.  8  to  11). 
Archerina  exhibits  an  amoeba  phase  in  which  the  protoplasm  is 
thrown  into  long  stiff  filaments  (Fig.  II.  11),  surroundinga  spherical 
central  mass  about  in^th  inch  in  diameter  (actinophryd  form). 
A  large  vacuole  (non-contractile)  is  present,  or  two  or  three  small 
ones.  No  nucleus  can  be  detected  by  careful  use  of  reagents  in 
this  or  other  phases.  The  protoplasm  has  been  seen  to  ingest  solid 
food  particles  (Bacteria)  and  to  assume  a  lobose  form.  The  most 
striking  characteristic  of  Archerina  is  the  possession  of  chlorophyll 
corpuscles.  In  the  actinophryd  form  two  oval  green-coloured 
bodies  (b,  b)  are  seen-  As  the  protoplasm  increases  by  nutrition  the 
chlorophyll  corpuscles  multiply  by  quaternary  division  (Fig.  II.  10) 
and  forfti  groups  of  four  or  of  four  sets  of  four  symmetrically 
arranged.  The  division  of  the  chlorophyll  corpuscles  is  not 
necessarily  followed  by  that  of  the  protoplasm,  and  accordingly 
specimens  are  found  with- many  chlorophyU  corpuscles  embedded 
in  a  large  growth  of  protoplasm  (Fig.  II.  8) ;  the  growth  may  increase 
to  a  considerable  size,  numbering  some  hundreds  ot  chlorophyU 
corpuscles,  and  a  proportionate  development  of  protoplasm.  Such 
a  growth  is  not  a  Plasmodium,  that  is  to  say,  is  not  formed  by 
fusion  of  independent  amoeba  forms,  but  is  due  to  continuous 
growth.  When  nutrition  fails  the  individual  chlorophyll  corpuscles 
separate,  each  carrying  with  it  an  investment  of  protoplasm,  and 
then  eech  such  a:..a!ba  form  forms  a  cyst  around  itself  which  is* 
covered  with  short  spines  (Fig.  II:  9).  The  cysts  are  not  known 
to  give  rise  to  spores,  but  appear  to  be  merely  hypnocysts. 

The  domination  of  the  protoplasm  by  the  chlorophyU  corpuscles 
is  very- remarkable  and  unlike  anything  known  in  any  other 
organism.  Possibly  the  chlorophyll  corpuscles  are  to  be  regarded 
as  nuclei,  since  it  is  known  that  there  are  distinct  points  of  affinity 
between  the  dense  protoplasm  of  ordinary  nuclei  and  the  similarly 
dense  protoplasm  of  normal  chlorophyU  corpuscles.  ' 

Class  II.  MTCETO^OA,  De  Bary. 

Characters. — Gymnomyxa  which,  as  an  exception  to  aU  other 
Protozoa,  are  not  inhabitants  of  water  but  occur  on  damp  surfaces 
exposed  to  the  air.  They  are  never  parasitic,  as  are  some  of  the 
Proteomyxa  most  nearly  allied  to  them  (Plasmodiophora,  'ic. ),  but 
feed  on  organic  debris.  They  are  structurally  characterized  by  the 
fact  that  the  amosba  forms,  which  develop  either  directly  or  through 
flagellulse  from  '  their  spores,  always  form  large,  sometimes  very 
large,  i.e.,  of  several  square"  inches  area,  fusion  plasmodia  (or 
rarely  aggregation  plasmodia),  and  that  the  spores  are  always 
chlamydospores  {ie.,  provided  with  a  coat)  and  are  formed  eitber 
in  naked  groups  of  definite  shape  (sori)  or  on  the  surface  of  peculiar 
columns  (conidiophors)  or  in  large  fruit-like  cysts  which  enclose  the 
whole- or  a  part  of  the  plasmodium  and  develop  besides  the  spores 
definite  sustentacular  structures  (capillitium)  holding  the  spores  in 
a  mesh-work. 

Tliree  orders  of  Mycetozoa  are  distinguishable  according  to  the 
arrangement  of  the  spores  in  more  or  less  complex  spore-fruits. 

Order  1.  SOROPHORA,  Zopf.. 

Characters. — Mycetozoa  which  never  exhibit  a  vibratile  (monadi- 
form)  swarmspore  or  flagellula  phase,  but  hatch  from  the  spore  as 
amcebie.  A  true  fusion  plasmodium  is  not  formed,  but  an  aggrega- 
gation  Plasmodium  by  the  contact  without  fusion  of  numerous 
amosba  forms.  The  spore  fruit  is  a  naked  aggregation  of  definitely 
arranged  encysted  amoebse  called  a  sorus,  not  enclosed  in  a  common 
capsule ;  each  encysted  amoeba  has  thn  value  of  a  single  spore  and 
sets  free  on  germination  a  single  amcebula.  They  inhabit  the  dnntf 
of  various  animals. 

Genera. — Copromyxa,  Zopf;  Cynthidina,  Cicnk.  ;  Diclyostelium, 
Brefeld  ;  Acrasis,  Van  Ticghem  ;  Polyspondylium,  Brefeld. 

Order  2.  ENDOSPOREA,  Zopf. 

Characters. — Mycetozoa  always  passing  through  the  flagellula 

phase  and  always  forming  true  plasmodia  by  fusion  of  amteba 

forms.     Tile  spore-fruit  is  in  the  form  of  a  large  cyst  which  encloses 

a  quantity  of  the  plasmodium  ;  the  latter  tlien  breaks  up  into  (a) 


UYCETOZOA.] 


PROTOZOA 


841 


tpoves  (oTie  coriespomliiig  to  caoli  nucleus  of  the  enclosed  Plas- 
modium),each  of  ^vhich  has  a  celhilosc  coat,  and  (b)  a  capillitiurti 
of  threads  which  hold  the  spoiea  together.  Each  spoie  (chlamy(Jo- 
spore)  liberates  on  germinationa  single  nucleated  Hagellula,  which 
develops  into  an  amoebula,  which  in  turn  fuses  with  other  ainoebute 
to  form  the  plasmo  jium.  The  Endosporea  are  essentially  dwellers 
on  rotten  wood  and  such  vegetable  refuse. 


fio.  III.— MycetOZQa  (after  Dc  Bary).  1-6.  Gennlnallon  of  spore  (1)  of  Trichea 
taria,  showing  the  emcrginR  "fJagelhila"  (4,  C).'6n(l  its  conversion  Into  an 
"amoebula"  (tj).  7-18.  Series  leadintr  from  spore  to  Plasmodium  phase  of 
Chondrioderma  difformei—7,  spore;  10,  flagellula;  1?,  amcebula;  14,  apposi- 
tion of  two  amoebulee  ;  15-17,  fusions;  18,  Plasmodium.  19,  20,  Spore-frvit 
(cyst)  of  Physflrum  Uucophxum,  Fr,  (x  26),  the  foi-mer  from  the  surface,  the 
latter  in  section  with  the  spoiea removed  to  show  the  sustentacular  network  or 
caplllitlum.  2l.  Section  of  the  spore-cyst  of  Didymium  ^quamutotum,viih  the 
spore^  removed  to  show  the  radiating  caplllitium  x  ajid  the  stalk. 

Sub-order  1.  ri;itTTi:iCHr;A,  Zopf. 

Fam.  1.  Clatiihoptvchiace.e,  Rostafinski. 

Genera.  —Clat/iroplychium,  Rost.  ;'  Enteridium,  Elir. 
Fam.  2.  CniBRARiACE.E. 

Genera. -^Z)ic(j^(f(tt»ri,  Pers.  ;  Cribraria,  Pers. 

Suborder  2.'  Ekdotrichea',  Zopf. 

Faril.  1.    PlIYSAREA. 

Genera. — Physarum,  Pcra. ;  Crateriiim,  Ticntcpol ;  Badhamia, 
Berkeley ;    Leocarpus,    Link.  ;    Tilmadochc,    Fr.  ;    Fiiligo 
(^ihalium).  Hall ;  jithaliopsis,  Z. 
Fam.' 2.  Didymiacils;. 

Genera. — Didymiiim;  Lepidoderma,  De  Bary. 
Fam.  3.    SPUMA'RIACE.E. 

GejieTa.^Spuinaria,  Pers.  ;  Dicichca,  Fries. 
Fam.  4.  Stemonitea.. 

Genera. — Stemonitis,  Gleditsch  ;   Comalridja,   Preuss  ;  Lam- 
prodefma,  Rost. 
Fam.  6.  Enerthekemea. 

Geuera.  — Enerihcma,  Bowman. 
Fani.  6.  Reticclariace*:,  Zopf. 

Gtner&.—A»iuurocheite,  Rost.  ;  jRelicularia,  Bull. 
Fam.  7.  TRioniNACEii. 

Genera.  -~Hem.iarcyria,  Rost  ;  Trichia,  Hall. 
Fam,  8.  ArcYriaCe,e. 

Genera. — Arajria,  Hall;  ConiiitJia,  Rest;  Lycogala,  Ehr« 
Fam.  9.  PERicn.ENACEiE. 

Lachnobolits,  Fiies. 


Genera.— i'cn'cAasn^i,  Fries. 
Film.  10.  LiCEACEf. 

Genera. — Licea,    Schrader  ; 
Fries.  ;  Tubuliftra,  Zopf. 


Tiibulina,    Pers.  ;     Lindbladia, 


•  DrdeH  3.  EXOSPOREA,  Zopf. 

Oharacters. — The  chlamydosporc  liberates  un  amoebula  in  the 
first  instance,  which  develops  into  a  flagelluln.  This  subsequently 
jeturns  to  the  amceba  ftjrm,  and  by  fusion  with  other  amcebula;  it 
(Jirms  a  true  fusion  plasraodiiini.  The  spores  aio  not  produced 
within  a  cyst  but  upon  the  snrfafo  of  column-like  un-^iowtlis  of  the 
Plasmodium,  each  spore  (conidum)  forming  as  a  little  spherical  oiit- 
growth  a'ttached  to  thq  column  (conidiophoi-)  bv'a  distinct  pedicle. 
.  Sole  Genus. — Ceratium.  [This  name  must  bo  changed,  since  it 
was  already  applied  to  a  ganus  of  Dinollngollata,  when  Famintzin 
and  Woronin  gave  it  to  this  Mycetozoon.] 

Further  llemarks  on  Afy'celotoq.—Ahout  two  hundred  species  of 
Mycetozoa  have  been  described.  Botanists,  and  especially  those  who 
occupy  themselves  with   Fungi,  have  nccunjulated  the  very  laige 


mass  of  facts  now  known  in  rcfci-ence  to  these  oigauisms  ;  never- 
theless the  most  eminent  botanist  who  li.is  done  more  than  any 
other  to  advance  our  knowledge  of  Mycctozo.i,  namely,  De  Bary,  hai 
expressed  the  view  that  they  are  to  \k  regarded  rjtlier  as  animals 
than  as  plants.  The  fact  is  tlurt,  once  the  question  is  raiseil,  it 
becomes  as  reasonable  to  relegate  all  the  Gyninomyxa  without 
exception  to  the  vegetable  kingdom  as  to  do  so  with  the  Mycetozoa. 
Whatever  course  we  take  with  the  latter,  we  must  takp  also  with 
the  Helioioa,  the  Radiolaria,  and  the  Rcticularia. 

The  formation  of  plasmodia,  for  which  the  Mycetozoa  are  conspicu- 
ous, appears  to  bo  a  particular  instance  of  the  general  phenomenon 
of  cell-conjugation.  Small  plasmodia  are  formed  by  some  of  the 
Protoomyxa;  but  among  the  other  Gymnomyxa,  excepting  Myceto- 
zoa, and  among  Corticate  Protozoa,  the  fusion  of  two  individuals 
(conjugation  soiiii  slricto)  is  more  usual  than  the  fusion  of  several. 
Zopf  (13)  has  attcirrpted  to  distinguish  arbitrarily  between  conjuga- 
tion and  Plasmodium  formation  by  asserting  that  in  the  former 
the  nuclei  of  the  cells  which  fuse  are  also  fused,  whereas  in  the 
latter  process  the  nuclei  retain  their  independence.  Both  state- 
ments are  questionable.  AVhat  happens  to  the  nucleus  in  such 
conjugations  as  those  of  the  Gregariuffi  has  not  yet  been  made  out, 
whilst  it  is  only  quite  recently  that  Strasburger  (30)  has  shown 
that  the  plasmodia  of  Mycetozoa  contain  numerous  scattered  nuclei, 
and  it  is  not  known  that  fusion  does  not  occur  between  some  of 
these.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  nuclei  of  plasmodia  multiply 
by  fission,  though  we  have  no  detailed  account  of  the  process. 

The  Sorophora  are  exceptional  in  that  the  aintcbte  which  unite  to 
form  a  cell-colony  in  their  case  do  not  actually  fuse  bat  only  remain 
in  close  contact ;  with  this  goes  the  fact  that  there  are  no  large 
spore-cysts,  but  an  identification  of  spore  and  spore-cyst.  The 
ainoebie  ari-ange  themselves  in  stalked  clusters  (sori),  and  each  be- 
comes encysted :  one  may,  in  this  case,  consider  the  cyst  equally  as 
a  spore  or  as  a  spore-cyst  which  produces  but  a  single  spore.  Tho 
amcebas  described  by  various  writers  as  inhabiting  the. alimentary 
canal  and  the  dung  of  higher  animals  (including  man)  belong  to 
this  group.  ■  The  form  described  by  Cunningham  in  tho  Quarl. 
Jour,  ^ficr.  5ci. ,  1881,  as  Protomyxomyccs  coprinarius  is  appa- 
rently related  to  the  Cojn-omy'xa  (Gvttwlinh)  prolea  of  Fayod  (31). 

The  spore-fruits  of  the  Endosporeae  occur  in  various  degrees  of 
elaboration.  Usually  they  are  (1)  spherical  or  pear-shaped  cysts 
with  or  without  an  obvious  stalk  (Fig.  III.  19,  20,  21),  and  often 
have  a  brilliant  colour,  and  are  of  a  size  readily  observed  by  tho 
naked  eye,  the  plasmodia  which  give  rise  to  them  being  by  no 
means  microscopic.  But  they  may  ]uesent  themselves  (2)  as 
irregular  ridges  growing  up  from  the  Plasmodium,  when  they  air 
termed  serpula  forms.  La.stly,  the  cysts  may  bo  united  side  by 
side  in  larger  or  smaller  groups  instead  of  forming  at  various  sepa- 
rate points  of  the  plasmoJium.  These  composite  bodies  are  termed 
"fruitcakes"  or  tethalia,"  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  spore-cysts 
of  Fuligo,  also  called  jEthalium — the  well-known  "  flowers  of  tan  " 
— form  a  cake  of  this  description. 

The  capillitium  or  network  of  threads  .which  lies. between' tho 
spores  in  the  spore-cysts  of  Endosporea;  is  a  remarkable  structure 
which  exhibits  special  elaborations  in  detail  in  didcrent  genera,  hero 
not  to  be  noticed  for  want  of  space.  Although  definite  in  form  and 
structure,  these  threads  are  not  built  up  by  cells  but  are  fonned 
by  a  residual  protoplasm  {cf.  Sporozoa)  which  is  left  in  tile  cyst 
after  the  spores  have  been  segregated  and  enclosed  each  in  its 
special  coat.  They  arp  often  impregnated  by  calcium  carbonate, 
and  exhibit  crystalline  masses  of  it,  as  does  also  the  cyst-waU.  • 

The  spores  of  the  Mycetozoa  are  as  a  rule  about  the  rsVo'h  inch 
in  diameter.  They  are  produced  by  millions  in  the  large  fruit- 
cakes of  such  forms  as  Fuligo.  Often  the  spore-coat  is  coloured ;  it 
always  consists  of  a  substance  which  gives  the  celluIo.se  reaction 
with  iodine  and  sulphuric  acid.  This  has  been  sometimes  con- 
sidered an  indication  of  the  vegetable  nature  of  the  Mycetozoa,  but 
cannot  bo  so  regarded  since  many  animals  (especially  the  Tunicate 
and  various  Protozoa)  produce  substances  giving  this  same  reaction. 

Drynes.s,  low  temperature,  and  want  of  nutriment  lead  to  a  dor- 
mant condition  of  tho  protoplasm  of  tho  Plasmodium  of  many 
Jlycetozoa  and  to  its  enclosure  in  ■  cyst-like  growths  known  a^ 
"sclerotia,"  which  do  not  give  rise  to  spores,  but  from  which  the 
protoplasm  creeps  forth  unaltered  when  temperature,  nutrition,  and 
moisture  are  again  favourable.  The  sclerotia  are  similar  in  nature 
to  tho  hypnocyst.s  of  other  Protozoa. 

Tho  physiological  properties— chemical  composition,  digestive 
action,  reaction  to  moisture,  heat,  light,  and  other  physical  influ- 
ences— of  the  plasmodia  of  Mycetozoa  have  been  made  the  subject 
of  important  investigations  ;  they  furnish  the  largest  masses  of 
undilTerentiated  protoiilasni  available  for  such  study.  The  reader 
is  referred  to  Zopf's  ailmirable  treatise  (13)  as  to  these  matters,  and 
also  for  a  detailed  account  of  the  genera  and  species. 

C;-A8S  III.  L0B08A,  Carpenter. 

CharacUrs. — Gymnomyxa  in  which  (as  in  tho  succeeding  four 
classes)  the  amirba-phase  predominates  over  tho  others  in  perma- 
nence, size  attained,  and  pnysiological  importance.     The  pscudo- 

YIX.  —  io6 


842 


PROTOZOA 


[locosa. 


podia  are  loboso,  ranging  in  form  from  mere  wave-like  biilgings 
of  the  surface  to  blunt  finger-like  processes,  but  never  having  the 
character  of  filaments  either  simple,  arborescent,  or  reticulate. 
Fusions  of  two  individuals  (conjugation)  have  been  observed  in  a 


KM.  IV.— Various  lobosa.  1,  2,  3.  Dactj/tosphtera  (ATmeba)  pobjpodia,  M. 
■Schultze,  in  three  successive  st.iges  of  division;  the  changes  indicated 
occupied  nfteen  minutes,  a,  nucleus  ;  b,  contractile  vacuole  (copied  from 
F.  E.  Schultze,  in  Archirf.    Mikrosk.  Atmt.).  4.  Amceba  princeps,  Ehr. 

(after  Auerliach).  «,  nucleus ;  b,  c,  vacuoles  (one  or  more  contractile  ■  the 
shaded  granules  are  food-particles).  5.  Pelomyxa  palustris,  Greeff 

(after  Greeff),  an  example  with  comparatively  few  food-particles  (natural 
Bize  3^th  inch  in  length).  6.  Portion  of  a  Pelomyxa  more  highly  magni- 

fied, n,  clear  superficial  zone  of  protoplasm  (so-called  "  exoplasm ") ;  b, 
vacuoles,  extremely  numerous;  c,  lohose  pseudopodium ;  d,  a  similar 
pseudopodlum ;  e,  nuclei ;  /,  "  refractive  bodies  "  (reproductive  ?) :  scattered 
about  In  the  protoiilasm  are  seen  numerous  cylindrical  crystals.  7. 

jlrccSa  rufc/aris,  Ehr.  'a,  shell;  6,  protoplasm  within  the  shell ;  c,  extended 
protoplasm  in  the  form  of  lobose  pseudopodia ;  d,  nuclei ;  e,  contractile 
vacuole;  the  daclt  bodies  unlettered  are  gas  vacuoles.  S.Cochlio- 

podmm  peltuculum,  Hert.  and  Less,  a,  nucleus  surrounded  by  a  hyaline 
halo  sometimes  mistaken  for  the  nucleus,  whilst  the  latter  is  termed 
nucleolus. 

few  cases,  but  not  fusions  of  many  individuals  so  as  to  form 
pUsmodia  ;  nevertheless  the  size  attained  by  the  naked  protoplasm 
by  pure  growth  is  in  some  caues  considerable,  forming  masses  readily 
,V!sible  by  the  naked  eye  (Pelomy.\a).     The  presence  of  morj  than 


one  nucleus  is  a  fre<iuent  character.  A  contractile  vacuole  may  or 
may  not  be  present.  The  formation  of  sporocysts  and  of  chlamydo-' 
spores  (coated  spores)  has  not  been  observed  in  any  sjiecies,  but 
naked  spores  (Hagellulie  or  amcebulse)  have  been  with  more  or 
less  certainty  qbserved  as  the  product  of  the  breaking  up  of  some 
species  (Amceba?  Pelomyxa).  The  cyst  phase  is  not  unusual,  but 
the  cyst  appears  usually  to  be  a  hypnocyst  and  not  a  sporocyst.' 
In  the  best  observed  case  of  spore-production  (Pelomy.ita)  the  spores 
were  apparently  produced  without  the  formation  of  a  cyst.  Repro- 
duction is  undoubtedly  most  freely  effected  by  simple  fission 
(Amceba)  and  by  a  modified  kind  of  bud-fission  (Arcclla).  FresL^ 
water  and  marine.  Two  orders  of  the  Lobosa  are  distinguished  iii 
accordance  with  the  presence  or  abseuce  of  a  shell: 

Order  1.  NUDA. 

Characters. — Lobosa  devoid  of  a  shell. 

Genera. — Amceba,  Auct.  (Fig.  IV.  i) ;  OuramoM,  Leidy  (with  a 
villous  tuft  at  one  end,  Wallich's  A.  villosa) ;  Corycia,  Dtij.  (low, 
ridge-like  pseudopodia);  Lithavueba,  Lankester  (Fig.  V.);  Dina- 
mceba,  Leidy  (92)  (covered  with  short  stiff  processes) ;  HyalocHscusl 
H.  and  L.  ;  Plahopns,  F.  E.  Schultze ;  Daclylo.iphasra,  H.  and  L; 
(Fig.  IV.  1,  2,  3);  Pelomyxa,  Greeff  (Fig.  IV.  5,  6) ;  A^nphizonellai 
Greeff  (forms  a  gelatinous  case  which  is  broken  through  by  thei 
pseudopodia). 

Order  2.  TESTACEA. 

pharctdcrs. — Lobosa  which  secrete  a  shell  provided  witli  an 
aperture  from  which  the  naked  protoplasm  can  be  protruded.  The 
shell  is  either  soft  and  membranous,  or  strengthened  by  the  in- 
clusion of  sand-particles,  or  is  hard  and  firm. 

Genera..— Cocliliopodium  (Fig.  IV.  8),  H.,and  L.  ;  Pyxidicitla, 
Ehr.  ;  Arcclla,  Ehr.  (Fig.  IV.  7) ;  Hya'osphcnia,  Stein  ;  Quad- 
rula,  F.  E.  Schultze  '(shell  membraneous,  areolated) ;  Difflugia, 
'Leclerc  (shell  with  adventitious  particles). 

Further  rcnmrks  on  the  Lobosa. — The  Lobosa  do  notrform  a  very 
nuiuerous  nor  a  very  natural  assemblage.  Undoubtedly  some  of 
the  forms  which  have  been  described  as  species  of  Amneba  ai'e 
amceba  forms  of  Mycetozoa  ;  this  appears  to  be  most  ptobably  the 
case  ill  parasitic  and  stercoricolous  forms.  But  when  these  are 
removed,  as  also .  those  Proteoniyxa  which  have  pseudopodia  of 
varying  character,  at  one  time  lobose  and  at  another  filamentous, 
we  have  left  a  certain  small  number  of  independent  loboso 
Gyiniiomy.\a  which  it  is  most  convenient  to  associate  in  a 
separate  group.  We  know  veiy  little  of  the  production  of  spores 
(whether  it  actually  .obtains  or  not)  or  of  developmental  phases 
among  these  Lobosa.  The  common  Amceba  are  referable  to  the 
species  ./4.  yri>icy;s,  A.  lobosa,  Daetylosphscra  polypodia,  Ouramceba 
villosa.  Of  none  of  these  do  we  know  certainly  any  reproductive 
phenomena  excepting  that  of  fission  (see  Fig.  IV.  1,  2,  3).  Various 
statements  have  been  made  pointing  to  a  peculiar  change  in  the 
nucleus  and  a  production  of  spores  having  the  form  of  minute 
Amceb.\',  arising  from  that  body ;  but  they  cannot  be  considered 
as  established.  AVhilst  the  observed  cases  of  supposed  reproduc- 
tive phenomena  are  very  few,  it  must  be  remembered  that  we  have 
always  to  guard  (as  tlie  history  of  the  CSliata  has  shown,  see 
below)  against  the  liability  to  mistake  parasitic  amcebula;  and 
flagelluL-e  for  the  young  forms  of  organisms  in  which  'they  are 
merely  ]iarasitic.  The  rumarkable  Pelomyxa  palustris  of  Greeff  (32) 
was  seen  by  him  to  set  free  (without  forming  a  cyst)  a  number  of 
amoebulie  which  he  considers  as  probably  its  young.  Mr  AVeldon 
of  St  John's  College,  Cambridge,  has  observed  the  same  pheno- 
menon in  specimens  of  Pelomyxa  which  made  their  appearance  in 
abundance  in  an  aquarium  in  the  Morphological  Laboratory, 
Cambridge.  It  aeems  probable  that  the  amojbula;  in  this  case  are 
not  parasites  but  spore-like  young,  and  this  is  the  best  observed 
case  of  such  reproduction  as  yet  recorded  in  the  group. 

Arcella  is  remarkable  for  the  production  of  bud-spores,  which 
may  be  considered  as  a  process  intermediate  between  simple  fission' 
ami  the  complete  breaking  up  of  fhe  parent  body  into  spores.  As 
many  as  nine  globular  processes  are  simultaneously  pinched  offfron^ 
the  protoplasm  extruded  from  tlie  shell  of  the  Arcella  ;  the  nuclej 
(present  in  the  parent  Arcella  to  the  number  of  two  or  three)  haVQ 
not  been  traced  in  connexion  with  this  process.  The  buds  then  be- 
come nipped  off,  and  acquire  a  shell  and  a  contractile  vacuole  (33). 
The  presence  of  more  than  one  nucleus  is  not  unusual  in  Lobosa; 
and  is  not  due  to  a  fusion  of  t\Vo  or  more  uninuclear  individuals, 
but  to  a  multiplication  of  the  original  nucleus.  This  has  been 
observed  in  some  Amoeba;  {A.  prince2ys^  as  well  as  Arcella.' 
Pelomyxa  (Fig.  IV.  6)  has  a  great  number  of  nuclei  like  the  Helio- 
zoon,  Actinosphterium  (Fig.  'VIII.). 

.Pelomyxa  is  the  most  highly  differentiated  of  the  Lobosa.  The 
highly  vacuolated  character  of  its  protoplasm  is  exhibited  in""a  les.s 
degree  by  Lithamoeba  andlesemblesthatof  Heliozoa  and  Radiolaria. 
Besides  the  numerous  nuclei  there  are  scattered  in  the  protoplasm 
strongly  refringent  bodies  (Fie;.  IV.  6,/"),  the  signili'cance  of  which 
has  not  been  ascertained.  The  superficial  protoplasm  is  free  from 
vacuoles,  hyaline,  and  extremely  mobile.     Occasionally  it  is  drawn 


r,AnYKKNTHVHDEA.J 


r  n  o  T  0  z  0  A 


843 


out  into  very  short  fine  filaments.  Scattered  in  the  protoplasm  are 
a  number  of  minute  cylindrical  crystals,  of  unascertained  composi- 
tion. Pelomyxa  is  of  very  large  size  for  a  Protozoon,  attaining  a 
diameter  of  I'sth  of  an  inch.  It  t.ikes  into  its  substance  a  quantity 
of  foreign  particles,  both  nutrient  organic  matter  such  as  Rotifera 
and  Diatoms  and  saiid  particles.  It  occurs  not  uncommonly  in  old 
f 


I-'io.  V. — tithamxba  discjis,  Lank,  (after  Laiikcster,  34).  A,  quiescent ;  B, 
tlirowing  out  pscudopodin.  e.y.,  contractile  vacuole,  overlyinjj  whicli  the 
vacuolated  protoplasm  13  seen  ;  cone,  concretions  insoluble  ia  dilute  nci 
and  dilute  KUO,  but  soluble  in  strong  IlCl ;  n,  nucleus. 

muddy  ponds  (snch  as  duck -ponds),  creepinf;  upon  the  bottom,  and 
has  a  white  appearance  to  tlie  naked  eye.  Litnamreba  (Fig.  V.)  is 
distinguished  by  its  large  size,  disk-like  form,  the  disk-like  shape  of 
its  pseudopodia,  the  preseuce  of  specific  concretions,  tho  vacuolation 
of  Its  protoplasm,  and  the  bTock-lika  form  and  peculiar  tessellated 
appeaiance  of  its  large  nucleus,  which  has  a  very  definite  capsule. 
In  Lithamceba  it  is  easy  to  recognize  a  distinct  pellicle  or  temporary 
cuticle  whicli  is  formed  upon  the  surface  of  the  protoplasm,  anil 
bursts  when  a  pseudopodiuin  is  formed  In  fact  it  is  the  rupture  of 
this  pellicle  wliich  appears  to  be  the  proximate  cause  of  the  outfiow 
of  protoplasm  as  a  pseudopodium.  Probably  a  still  more  delicate 
pellicle  always  forms  on  the  surface  of  naked  jirotoplasm,  and  in  the 
way  just  indicated  determines  by  its  ruiiture  the  form  and  the 
direction  of  the  "ilow"  of  protoplasm  which  is  described  as  the  "pro- 
trusion" of  a  pseudopodium. 

The  shells  of  l^obosa  Testacea  are  not  very  complex.  That  of 
Arcella  is  remarkable  for  its  hexagonal  areolation,  dark  colour,  and 
firm  consistence  ;  it  consists  of  a  substance  resembling  chitin. 
That  of  Diftlugia  has  a  delica.tu  membranous  basis,  but  includes 
foreign  particles,  so  as  to  resemble  the  built-un  case  of  a  Caddis 
worm. 

Arcella  is  remarkable  among  all  Protozoa  for  its  power  of  secret- 
ing gasvacuoles  (observed  also  in  an  Amceba  by  Biitsehli),  which 
serve  a  hydrostatic  function,  causing  the  Arcella  to  lloat.  The  gas 
can  be  rapidly  absorbed  by  the  protoplasm,  when  the  vacuole  neces- 
sarily disappears  and  the  Arcella  sinks. 

CLAS.S  IV.  LABTBDfTHULIDEA 

CJiaracters. — Gymnomyxa  forming  irregular  heaps  of  ovoid 
nucleated  cells,  the  protoplasm  of  which  extends  itself  as  a  branching 
network  or  labyrinth  of  line  threads.  The  oval  (spindle-shaped) 
corpuscles,  consisting  of  dense  ])rotoplasm,  and  possessing  each  a 
well-marked  nucleus  (not  observed  in  C'hlamydomyxa),  travel  regu- 
larly and  continuously  along  tho  network  of  filaments.  The  oval 
corpuscles  multiply  by  fission  ;  they  also  occasionally  become 
encysted  and  divide  into  four  spherical  spores.  The  young  forms 
developed  from  these  spores  presumably  develop  into  colonies,  but 
have  not  been  observed. 

Genera. — Two  genera  only  of  Labyrinthulidea  are  known  : — 
Lahjrinlhula,  Cienkowski ;  Chlamydomyxa,  Archer. 

Oicnkowski  (35)  discovered  Labyrinthula  on  green  Algffi  growing 
on  wooden  piles  in  tho  harbour  of  Odessa  (marine).  It  lias  an 
orange  colour  and  forms  patches  visible  to  tho  naked  eye.  Chlamy- 
tlomyxa  was  discovered  by  Arclicr  of  Dublin  (36)  in  the  cells  of 
Sphagnum  and  crawling  on  its  surface  ;  henco  it  is  a  freshwater 
form.  Unlike  Labyrinthula,  the  latter  forms  a  laniinatcd  shell  of 
cellulose  (I'ig.  VI.  2,  c),  in  which  it  is  frequently  completely 
enclosed,  and  indeed  lias  rarely  been  seen  in  the  expanded 
labyrinthine  condition.  The  laminated  cellulose  shells  nro  very 
freely  .secreted,  the  organism  fre([uently  deserting  one  and  forming 
another  within  or  acYherent  to  that  previously  occupied.  The 
network  of  Chlamydomyxa  apiicars  to  consist  of  hyaline  threads  of 
streaming  protoplasm,  whilst  that  of  Labyrinthula  has  a  moro 
horny  consistence,  and  is  not  regarded  by  Cienkowski  as  protopla.sm. 

The  spindle-shaped  cells  are  much  alike  in  form  and  sizo  in  tho 
two  genera ;  but  no  nOcleus  was  delected  by  Archer  in  these  of 
Chlamydomyxa.  Tho  encysting  of  tho  spindle-cells  and  their 
fission  into  spores  has  been  seen  only  in  Labyrinthula.  Chlamy- 
domyxa is  often  of  a  brilliant  green  colour  owing  to  the  yrosonce  of 
chiorophyll  corpuscles,  and  may  exhibit  a  red  or  mottled  red  and 
green  appearance  owing  to  tho  chemical  change  of  the  chlorophyll. 


It  has  been  observed  to  take  in  solid  uourisbment,  though  Labyrin. 
thula  has  not. 

The  Labyrinthulidea  present  strong  resemblances  to  the  llyceto- 
zoa.  The  genus  Dactylostclium  (Sorophora)  would  come  very  close 
to  Labyriuthula  were  the  amreba;  of  its  aggregation  plasmodiom 


Fio.  VI.— Labyrinthulidea.    l.  A  colony  or  " coll  Voap  "  of  Lahnriniha^a 
vitfUina,  Cifiik.;  crawling  upon  an  Alga.  2.  A  colony  or  "coll-heap" 

of  Chtawjifi/mifxa  tatiiirinlhuloidr^y  Ar'hor.  with  fully  evpanilcd  network 
of  tlireada  on  wlik-h  tile  oat-sllapcd  corpuscjfs  (edit.)  are  movini;.  o  U  as 
liiccated  food  p.irtitle ;  at  c  a  portion  of  tlio  ficiicml  protoplasm  hu 
Uutnchcd  itself  nnd  become  encysted.  3.  A  portion  of  tbe  la-twork  of 

LalnjriiUhulii  vildlina,  cicnk..  more  hidnly  ma^;nllU'd.  ;>,  protopla.<(nilc 
liiasH  appnrcntly  produced  by  fusion  of  Bcvcrnl  tllanicnts  ;  })',  fu.sioii  of 
several  cclU  which  have  lont  their  dcllnito  spindle-slmped  contour ;  «, 
corpusck-s  which  liuvo  become  Hpliuiical  and  iiro  no  longer  iiioviny  <p4;rlul|is 
about  to  bo  encystcdX  4.  A  Blnylo  spindle  cell  jiiul  llircafiJof  J^alnf' 

rinlliuJfthtacro''tigt:it,C\cr\)t.     il.nuclciis.  S.  A  groui»of  encjRtcd  crlli 

of  L.  marrofitt'fitt,  einhcdded  In  a  loinfli  secretion.  0,  V.  Kiicy^trd  colU 

of  //.  vmcrociiifti.t,  with  enclosed  protoplnsui  divided  Into  four  sparer. 
8.  9.  Transvei'ao  division  of  a  liou-cilcyated  spindlc-ccIl  of  L.  viacrocyUii. 

set  upon  a  netv7ork  of  threads.     Such  a  network,  whether  in  f\ 
condition  of  soft  protoplasm  or  hardened  and  horny,  is  represented 
in  tho  higher  Mycctozoa  by  the  capillitium  of  tho  sporocysts. 

Tho  most  important  dilfcronco  between  Archer's  Chlamydomyx* 
and  Cienkowski's  Labyrintliula  is  that  in  tho  former  the  threads 


844 


PROTOZOA 


uhliuzoa: 


6f  the  network  appear  to  consist  of  contractile  protoplasm,  "whilst 
in  thp  latter  they  are  described  as  firm  horny  threads  exuded  by 
the  spindle-cells.  Neither  form  has  been  re-examined  since  its 
discovery;  and  it  is  possible  that^tliis  appareut^ditference  will^c 
wmoved  by  further  study  / 


numerous  isolated  filamentous  pseuJopodia  which  exhibit  very  little 
movement  or  change  of  form,  exci-pt  when  engaged  in  the  inception 
of  food-particles.  The  protoplasm  of  the  spherical  body  is  richly 
vacuolated  ;  it  may  exhibit  one  or  more  contractile  vacuoles  and 
either  a  single  central  nucleus  or  many  nuclei  (Kuclearia,  Actriio- 
sphaTium).  Skeletal  products  may  oV  may  not  be  present.  FlageU 
lulfB  have  been  observed  as  the  young  forms  of  some  species  (Acan- 
thocystis,  Clathrulina),  but  very  little  has  been  as  yet  ascertained 
as  to  spore-formation  or  conjugation  in  this  gi'oup,  though  isolat^'l 
facts  of  importance  have  been  observed.  -,  Mostly  freshwater  ffvrr.i.*. 

r 


Fro.  VII.— Heliozoa.  l.  Actinophrys  sot,  Ehrl).  ;  x  SCO.  a.  food-particle 
lying  in  a  l;ir|j;e  food-vacuole  ;  6,  deep-lying  finely  Rranular  protoplasm;  c, 
axial  filament  of  a  pseudopodiura  extended  inwards  to  the  nucleus;  d,  tlie 
central  nucleus;  e,  contractile  vacuole;  /,  superficial  much-vacuolated 
protoplasm.  2.  Clathrulina  elegaiis,  Cienk. ;    x    200.  3.  Ueter- 

cphrys  marina,  H.  and  L.     x  600.    a,  nucleus;    6,   clearer  protoplasm 
Burrounding  the  nucleus;  c,  the  peculiar  felted  envelope.  4.  Jiaphi- 

4iophri/s pallida,  F.  E.  Schultze  ;  x  430.  a,  food-p.-^rticle  ;  b,  the  nucleus; 
c.  contractile  vacuole  ;  d,  central  granule  in  which  all  the  axis-filanients  of 
the  pseudopodia  meet.  The  tangentially  disposed  spicules  are  seen 
arranged  in  masses  on  the  surface.  -  5.  jicauthoci.-stis  turfacea.  Carter 
Ix  240.  o,  probably  the  central  nucleus;  b,  clear  protoplasm  around  the 
nucleus ;  c,  more  superficial  protoplasm  with  vacuoles  and  chlorophyll 
corpuscles  ;  d,  coarser  siliceous  spicules  ;  e,  finer  forked  ailiceons  spicules  , 
/,  finely  granular  layer  of  protoplasm.^  The  long  pseudopodia  reaching 
beyond  the  spicules  are  not  lettered.'  ':  6.  Ei-llagcllate  "flagellula"  of 
\Acanthocystis  aculeata.  a,  nucleus.^  -  7.  Ditto  of  Clathrulina  elegans. 
o,  nucleus,  v-      8.  Astvodisculus  ruber,  GreelT;    x   320.    a,  red-coloured 

-  central  sphere  (?  nucleus);  6,  peripheral  homogeneons  envelope. 

^  Class  V.  HELIOZOA,  Haeckel,  1866. 
^  CAamders.— Gymnomyxa  in  which  the  dominating  amceba  phase 
naa  the  fonu  of  a  spherical  body  from  the  surface  of  which  radiate 


FlO.  VIII.— Heliozoa.    l-  Ardnnsp'hxrium  Eichhnrnii,  Ehr.  ;  X  200."^a^- 
nuclei ;  b,  deeper  protoplasm  witli  smaller  vacuoles  and  numerous  nuclei ; 

c,  cuntractile  vacuoles;  rf,  peripheral  protoplasm  with  lar;,'cr  vacuoles. 
2.  A  portion  of  the  same  specimen  more  highly  magnified  and  seen  in 
optical  section,    a,  nuclei ;   b,  deeper  protuplysm  (so-called  endosorc); 

d,  peripheral  protoplasm  (so-called  ectosarc);  e.  pseudopodia  showJngthe 
graimlar  protoplasm  streara'ug  over  the  stin  axial  filament;/,  food- 
particle  in  a  food-vacuole.  3,  4.  Nuclei  of  Accinosplia;rium  in  tho 
resting  condition.  5-13.  Successive  stages  in  the  division  of  n 
nucleus  of  Actinosphrcrium.  showing  fibrillation,  and  in  7  and  a  formatinn 
nf  an  equatorial  plate  of  chromatin  substance  (after  llertwig).  14. 
Cyst-phase  of  Actinospha^riuni  Jiichho)nii,  slmwing  the  protnplasn> 
divided  into  twelve  chlamydi.tspores,  ea'  h  of  which  lias  a  siliceuus  cciit ; 
a,  nucleus  of  t!:e  spore  ;  ff.  gchitinous  wall  of  the  cyst ;  A,  siliceous  oat  u( 
the  spore. 


aiETICULXiSIA.J 


Jt'  K  O  T  0  Z  0  A 


b46 


Order  1.  APHROTHORACA,  Heitwig  (56). 

Characters.  — Heliozoa  devoid  of  a  spirillar  or  gelatinous  envelone, 
excepting  in  some  a  temporary  membranous  cyst. 

Genera. — Nuclearia,  Cienk.  (37)  (innny  nuclei ;  many  contractile 
vacuoles  ;  body  not  permanently  spherical,  but  amoeboid)  ;  Aclin- 
ophrys,  Ehr.  (Fig.  vll.  1;  bodj' spherical ;  pseudopodia  with  an 
axial  skeletal  filament;  central  nucleus;  one  Inrgo  contractile 
vaoQolo;  often  forming  colonies;  'A.  sol,  the  Sun-animalcule); 
Actinosphierium,  Stein  (Fig.  VIII. ;  spherical  body  ;  pseudopodia 
with  axial  filament ;  nuclei  very  numerous  ;  contractile  vacuoles  2 
to  14) ;    AcUnolophiis,  F.  E.  Schuize  (stalked). 

Order  2.  CHLAMYDOPHORA,  Archer  (57). 

Characters. — Heliozoa  with  a  soft  jelly-like  or  felted  fibrous 
envelope. 

Genera. — Heterophrys,  Archer  (Fig.  VII.  3);  SphtBvaetrum, 
Greeff ;  Astrodisculus,  Greeff  (Fig.  VII.  8). 

ORDER  3.  CHALAROTHORACA,  Hertw.  and  Lesser  (58). 

Characters.  — Heliozoa  \£ith  a  loose  envelope  consisting  of  isolated 
siliceous  spicules. 

Genera. — Raphidiophi -js.  Archer  (Fig.  VII.  4  ;  skeleton  in  the 
form  of  numerous  slightly  curved  spicules  placed  tangentially  iu 
the  superficial  protoplasm) ;  Pompholymphrijs,  Archer;  Pinacocystii 
H.  and  L.  ;  Pinaciophora,  Greeff;  Acanthocyslis,  Carter  (skeleton 
in  the  form  of  radially  disposed  siliceous  needles  ;  encysted  con- 
dition observed,  and  flagellula  young,  Fig.  VII.  6)  ;  Wagnerella, 
Meresch. 

Order  4.  DESMOTHORACA,  Hertw.  and  Less. 

Characters. — Heliozoa  with  a  skeletal  envelope  in  the  form  of  a 
spherical  or  nearly  snherical  shell  of  silica  preforated  bv  numerous 
large  holes. 

Genera. — OrhuUncUa,  Entz^  (without  a  stalk)  ;  Clathrulina, 
pienk.  (with  a  stalk,  Fig.  VII. '2). 

Further  remarks' on  the  Heliozoa. — The  Sun-animalcules,  Actinn- 
phrys  and  Actinosphserium,  were  the  only  known  members  of  this 
group  when  Carter  discovered  in  1863  Acanthocystis.  Our  further 
knowledge  ofthem  is  chiefly  due  to  Archer  of  Dublin,  who  dis- 
covered the  most  important  forms,  and  figured  tliem  in  the  Quart. 
JouT.  Micr.  Sci,  in  1867. 

Some  of  the  Proteomyxa  {e.g.,  Vampyrella)  exhibit  " heliozoon- 
)ike  "  or  "  nctinophryd  "  forms,  but  are  separated  from  the  true 
Heliozoa  by  the  fact  that  their  radiant  pseudopodia  are  not  main- 
tained for  long  iu  the  stiff  isolated  condition  charatteristiq  of  this 
group.  It  is  questionable  whether  Nuclearia  should  not  be  relegated 
to  the  Proteomyxa  on  account  of  the  mobility  of  its  body,  which  in 
all  other  Heliozoa  has  a  constant  spherical  form. 

Actinophrys  sol  is.  often  seen  to  form  groups  or  colonies  (by 
fission),  and  ao  also  is  Raphidiophrys  It  is  probable  from  the 
little  tliat  is  known  that  reprouuction  takes  place  not  only  by 
simple  ^fission  but  by  multiple  fission,  producing  flagellate  spores 
which  may  or  may  not  be  preceded  by  encystment.  Only  Clath- 
rulina,  Acanthocystis,  Actinosphjerium,  and  Actinophrys  have 
been  observed  in  the  encysted  state,  and  only  the  first  two  have 
been  credited  with  the  production  of  flagellated  young.  The  two 
latter  genera  form  covered  spores  within  their  cysts,  those  of  Actino- 
sphserium  being  remarkable  for  their  siliceous  coats  (Fig.  VIII. 
14),  but  their  further  development  has  not  been  seen. 

Class  VI.  EETIODLAEIA,  Carpenter,  1862. 
(Foraminifera,  Auct.,  Thalamophora,  Hcrtwig). 

Vltaractcrs. — Qymnomyxa  in  which  the  dominating  amoeba- 
lt)liase,  often  of  gi-eat  size  (an  inch  in  diameter),  has  an  irregular 
form,  and  a  tendency  to  throw  out  great  trunks  of  branching  and 
often  anastomosing  filamentous  pseudopodia,  and  an  equally  strong 
tendency  to  form  a  shell  of  secreted  membrane  or  secreted  lime  or  of 
agglutinated  sand  particles  (only  in  one  genus  of  secreted  silex)  into 
■which  the  protopla.sm  (not  in  all  ?)  can  bo  drawn  and  out  of  and 
over  which  it  usually  streams  in  widely  spreading  lobes  and 
bran(nic3.  One  nucleus  is  present,  or  there  are  many.  A  contrac- 
tile vacuole  is  sometimes,  but  not  as  a  rule,  present  (or  at  any  rate 
not  described).  Reproduction  is  by  fission  and  (as  in  some  other 
Protozoa)  by  the  formation  of  peculiar  bud-spores  which  remain 
fol'  a  time  after  their  formation  embedded  in  the  parental  proto- 
plasm. Ko  multiple  breaking  up  into  spores  after  or  independent 
of  the  formation  of  a  cyst  is  known.     Marino  and  freshwater. 

The  Koticulaiia  are  divisiljle  into  several  orders.  Tho  marked 
peculiarity  of  tho  shell  structure  in  certain  of  these  orders  is  only 
fitly  emphasized  by  grouping  them  together  aa  a  sub-class  Per- 
forata, in  contrast  to  which  tho  remaining  orders  stand  as  a 
subclass  Imperforatn.  The  distinction,  however,  is  not  an  ab- 
solute one,  for  a  few  of  tho  Lituolidea  are  perforate,  that  is,  are 
sandy  isomorpha  of  perforate  genera  such  as  Globigcrina  and 
Rotalia. 


Fio.  ix.-Gromiiaea    (Eetioularla   membranosa)-       i.  Diplophrut 

Archtri,  Barker,  a,  nucleus;  b,  coutrnctilo  vacuoles;  c,  ttie  yellow  olMiko 
body.     Sloor  pools,    Ireland.  2.   Gromia   mii/ormit,    lluj.     n,  tlie 

numerous  nuclei ;  near  tlicao  tho  cloncated  bodies  represent  fn^ested 
Diatoms.     Freshwater.  3.  Shrylu-arddta  tsrmlformis,  Siddnll  ((iuart. 

Jour,  tlicr.  Sci.,  1880);  x  30  diameters.  SInrlne.  Tho  protoplasm  li 
retracted  at  both  ends  into  the  tulmlar  case,    a,  nucleus.  6.  Shtp- 

heardella  t-vnii/onnis;  x  ■  15 ;  with  pseudopodia  fully  expanded. 
6-10.  Varying  appciirance  of  tho  nucleus  as  it  is  carried  along  in  the 
streaminK  protoplasm  wltliiu  tlie  tube.  11.  Ajnphitrctna  n'ritjhtianum. 

Archer,  showin;^  membranous  shell  encrusted  will)  foreign  particlet. 
Moor  pools,  Ireland.  12.  Diaphorophodon  nwbile,  Archer,    a,  nucleus. 

Moor  pools,  Irolaiid. 

Si'D-CLAss  A.  Imperforata. 

CVmrartcr.?.  —  Sliellsubstanco  not  perforated  by  numci'ous  aper-; 
turcs  through  which  tho  protoplasm  can  issue,  but  providcil  with 
only  one  or  two  large  apertures,  or  in  branched  forms  with  a  few 
such  apertures. 

Order  1.  GROMIIDF.A,  Brady. 

C%<jrac?ers. —^licll  or  test  nicmhranous,  in  tho  form  of  a  simple 
sac  with  a  psoudopodial  aperture  either  nt  one  extremity  or  at  both. 
Ppeudopodia  thread  like,  long,  blanching,  reticulated.  Marine  and 
freshwater. 

Fani.  1.  AIoN'OSTOMfSA.  with  a  single  aperture  to  the  shell. 


840 


£  II  O  T  0  Z  O  A 


[EETICUI.AR1A. 


Genera,.— ^ZicberiuhiiHi,  Clap.  nn\  Lncli.  ;  Gromia,  Diij.  (Fi>,'. 
IX.  2) ;  Mikrogromi I,  Heiiw.  ;  Euglypha,  Duj.  (shell  built  up  of 
heixgonal  siliceous  pl.ites) ;  Diajihorophodon,  Archer  (38)  (many 
foreign  particles  cementel  to  form  shell ;  small  pscudopodia  issue 
between  these,  hence  reseml/ling  Perforata,  and  large  long  ones  from 
the  proner  mouth  of  the  shell.  Fig.  IX.  12).^ 


fio,  X. — Imperforata.      1.  Spifoloculina  ptamilata,  L,amnrck,  slioMing  five 
"•coils";    porL'clKinous.  2.    Young   <Utto,   with  shell  dissolveil  and 

proUjplusni  staiiicil  so  as  to  show  tlie  seven  nuclei  n.  3.  Spiroliua  (Pene- 
roplis) ;    a    sculptured   imperfectly  coiled  'slielt ;    porcell;inous.  4. 

Vertehralina,  a  simple  shell  consistins  of  chambers  succeeding  one  another 
in  a  straight  line;  porcellanous.  5,  G.  Tlnirammiua  papitlata,  Brady,  a 
sanily  form.  6  is  broken  open  so  as  to  show  an  inner  chamber ;  recent. 
,x  25.  .  7.  Lituola  {Ilaplopliratjnn'wn)  cnnariensis,  a  sandy  form; 
recent.  8.  Nucleated  reproductive  bodies  (bud-spores)  of  Haliphysema. 
D.  Stjuammutina  Ixvh,  M.  RchuUze ;  x  40 ;  a  simple  porcellanous 
Miliolide.  10.  Protopl.TSmic  core  removed  after  treatment  with  weak 

chromic  acid  from  the  shell  of  l/rrlipfitf^cmn  Titmaiiovitzii,  Bow.  )i, 
▼estcul.ar  iniclei,  stained  with  ha;matox)lin  (after  Lankester).  j  11, 
llaUplnisrtiia  Tmnanotitni ;  x  25  diam. ;  living  specimen,  showing  the 
wiiie-slas-s-shaped  shell  built  np  of  sand-grains  and  spon^e-spiculcs,  and 
the.aiunidnnt  protoplasm  p,  issuing  from  the  mouth  of  the  shell  and 
i^reading  partly  over  its  projecting  constituents.  12.  Shell  of  Atfb'o- 

adiUa  limu-ala.  Sand.;  X  J ;  sliowiiig  the  branclnng  of  the  test  on  9ome  of 
©w  rays  usually  broken  away  in  preserved  specimens  (original).  13. 

Section  of  the  shell  of  Marsipella,  showing  thick  walls  built  of  sand- 
graiua. 


Fam.  2.  AMPHlSTO>tl.NA,Tritlian  apertureateachendof  theshell. 

Genera. — Uiplophrys,  Barker  (Fig.  IX.  1);  Ditrcma,  Archer; 
Amphitrema,  Archer  (Fig.  IX.  11);  ShepheardcUa,  Siddall  (39) 
(membranous  shell  very  long  and  cylindrical  so  as  to  be  actually 
tubular,  narrowed  to  a  spout  at  each  end,  I'ig.  IX.  3  ;  protoplasm 
extended  from  either  aperture,  Fig.  IX.  5,  and  rapidly  circulating 
within  the  tubular  test  during  life,  carrying  -with  it  the  nucleus 
which  itself  exhibits  peculiai?  movements  of  rotation,  Fig.  IX.  6,  7, 
"   9,  10). 

Order  2.  ASTR0RHIZIDEA7  Brady.  ^_ 

Characters. — Test  invariably  consisting  of  foreign  particles;  it  is 
usually  of  large  size  and  single-chambered,  often  branched  orradiata 
with  a  pseudopodial  aperture  to  each  branch,  the  test  often  con- 
tinued on  to  the  finer  branches  of  the  pseudopodia  (Fig.  X.  12)  ; 
never  symmetrical.     All  marine. 

Fam,  1.  AsTRORHiziNA,  Brady.  "Walls  thick,  composed  of  loose 
sand  or  mud  very  slightly  cemented. 

Genera. — Astrorhiza,  Sandahl  (Fig.  X.  12,  very  little  enlarged); 
Pelosina,  Brady;  Storthosphxra.  Brady  :  Dcndrophrya,  St.  Wright  r 
Syringammina,  Brady. 

Fam,  2,  Pilulinina.  Test  single-chambered ;  walls  thick, 
composed  chiefly  of  felted  sponge-spicules  and  fine  sand,  without 
calcareous  or  other  cement. 

Genera, — FiluUna,  Carpenter;  Technitella,  Norman;  Bathy- 
siphon,  Sars, 

Fam.  3.  Saccamminina,''  Chambers  nearly  spherical ;  walls  thin, 
composed  of  firmly  cemented  sand  grains. 

Genera. — Psainmosphssra,  Schultze;  Sorosphsera,  Brady  ;  Saccam- 
miita,  If.  Sars. 

Fam.  4.  Khabdamminixa.  Test  composed  .of  firmly  cemented 
sand  -  grains,  often  with  sponge  -  spicules  intermixed  ;  tubular  ; 
straight,  radiate,  branched  or  irregular ;  free  or  adherent;  with  one, 
two,  or  more  apertures  ;  rarely  segmented. 

Genera. — JacnJella,  Brady;  Marsipella,  Korman  (Fig.  X.  13)  ; 
Hhabdammina,  M.  Sars;  Aschemmtdla,  Brady;  Ehizammina, 
Brady;  Sagcnclla,  Brady;  Botdlina,  C^vp. ;  Haliphyscma,  Bower- 
bank  (test  wine-glass-shaped,  rarely  branched,  attached  by  a  disk- 
like base  ;  generally  beset  with  sponge-spicnies,  Fig.  X.  11  ;  pseudo- 
podial aperture  at  the  free  extremity).  This  and  Astrorhiza  are 
.the  only  raeinbers  of  this  order  in  which  the  living  protoplasm  has 
been  observed  ;  in  the  latter  it  has  the  appearance  of  a  yellowish 
cream,  and  its  microscopic  structure  is  imperfectly  unknown  (61). 
In  Haliphysema  the  network  of  expanded  pseudopodia  has  iDeeu 
observed  by  Saville  Kent  as  draj\'n  in  Fig.  X.  11.  Lankester  (59) 
discovered  numerous  vesicular  nuclei  scattered  in  the  protoplasm 
(Fig.  X.  10,  1!).  and  also  near  the  mouth  of  the  shell  reproductive 
bodies  (probably  bud-spores)  embedded  in  the  protoplasm  (Fig.  X. 
8),  Haliphysema  was  described  by  Bowerbank  as  a  Sponge,  and  mis- 
taken by  Haeckel  (60)  for  a  very  simple  two-cell-layered  animal 
(Enterozoou),  to  which  he  assigned  the  class  name  of  Pbysemaria, 

Order  3,  MILIOLIDEA,  Brady. 

Characters. — Test  imperforate  ;  normally  calcareous  and  porcel- 
lanous, sometimes  encrusted  with  sand  ;  under  starved  conditions 
•{e.g.,  in  brackish  water)  becoming  chitinous  or  chitino-arenaceous  ; 
at  abyssal  depths  occasionally  consisting  of  a  thin  homogeneous, 
imperforate,  siliceous  film.  The  test  has  usually  a  chambered 
structure,  being  divided  by  se-pta  (each  with  a  hole  in  it)  into  a 
series  of  loculi  which  may  follow  one  another  in  a  straight  line 
(Fig.  X.  4)  or  the  series  may  be  variously  coiled  (Fig.  X.  1  and  3). 
The  chambering  of  the  test  does  not  express  a  corresponding  cell' 
segmentation  of  the  protoplasm  ;  the  latter,  although  growing  in 
volume  as  the  new  shell-chambers  are  formed,  remains  one  continuous 
cell-unit  with  many  irregularly  scattered  nuclei  (Fig.  X.  2).  The 
chambered  and  septate  structure  results  in  this  group  and  in  the  other 
orders  from  the  fact  that  the  protoplasm,  expanded  beyond  the 
last-formed  chamber,  forms  a  new  test  upon  itself  whilst  it  lies  and 
rests  upon  the  surface  of  the  old  test.  The  variations  in  such  q 
formation  are  shown  in  Fig.  XII.  1,  2,  3,  4. 

Fam.  1.  NuRECULARiNA.  Test  free  or  adherent,  taking  various 
irregular  asymmetrical  forms,  with  variable  aperture  or  apertures. 

Cxuneva.—Squaviviulina,  Schultze  (Fig.  X.  9,  showing  the  ex 
paiided  pseudopodia) ;  Kuhecularia,  Dcfrance. 

Fatn.  2.  Mn.iouN'.\.  Shell  coiled  on  an  elongated  axis,  cither 
symmetrically  or  in  a  single  plane  or  inequilatcr.illy ;  two  cham- 
bers in  each  convolution.  Shell  aperture  alternately  duringgrowth 
(addition  of  new  chambers)  at  either  end  of  the  shell.  >^^    _ 

Genera. — BUocxtlina,  D'Orb.  ;  Fahularia^  Defrance  ;   Spirolocu^ 
Una,  D'Orb.  (Fig.  X.  1,  2) ;  MiUolina,  Williamson  (Fig.  XI.). 
'    Fam.    3.    Hauerinina.     Shell  dimorphons ;    chambers,  partly 
milioline,  partly  spiral  or  rectilinear.  "■ 

Genera, — Articulina,  D'Orb,;  VcrtehraUna,  D'Orb,  (Fig  X.  4); 
OpMhalmidimn,  Kubler ;  Hauerina,  D'Orb, ;  Planispirina,  Seguenza. 

Fam,  4.  Peneroplidina.     Shell  planospiral  or  cyclical,  some: 
times  crosier-shaped,  bilaterally  symmetrical. 
-  GewerSk. —Cornuspira,  Schultze;  /"ciiero;;//.?, Montfort(Kig.  X.  3); 


BETICULARIA.] 


l^ROTOZOA 


847 


Otbicidina,  Lamarck ;  OrbitoUles,  Lamarck  (by  a  division  of  the 
clinmbtrs  leyularly  into  chaniberlets,  and  a  cyclical  mode  of  groi^th 
which  results  iu  shells  of  the  size  of  a  shilling,  a  very  elaborate- 
looking  structure  is  produced  which  has  been  admirably  analysed 
by  CariKinter  (40),  to  whose  memoir  the  reader  is  specially  referred). 


im.  Xi.—MilioUua  {Tiiloculina)  tenera.  Young  llrlng  animal  with  ex- 
panded pseudopodia  (after  Max  Sclmltze).  A  single  nucleus  is  seen  iu  tlie 
ranennost  chamber. 

Fani.  5.  Alveolixina.     Shell  spiral,  elongated  in  the  line  of 
the  axis  of  the  convolution  ;  chambers  divided  into  chamberlots. "^ 
Genus. — Ah-eolitm,  D'Orb. 

Fara.  6.  Keramosfh/Erixa.  Shell  spherical;  cliambei's  in  con- 
centric layers. 

Genus.  — Keramosplixm,  Brady. 

Order  i.  LITUOLIDEA,  Brady.  ^ 

Characters.  —Test  arenaceous,  usually  regular  in  contour  ;  septa- 
tion  of  the  many-chambered  forms  often  imperfect,  the  cavity  being 
labyriuthic.  This  order  consists  of  sandy  isomorphs  of  the  simpler 
Miliolidea,  and  also  of  the  simpler  Perforata  (Lagena,  Nodosaria, 
Cristellaria,  Globigcrina,  Rotalia,  Nonionina,  ice);  it  also  contaius 
some  peculi.ir  adherent  species.  ■ 

Fam.  1.  LiTUOLiNA.  Test  composed  of  coarse  sand-grains,  rough 
ezternally  ;  often  labyrinthic. 

Genera. — Reophax,  Montfort ;  Haplophragmium,  Beuss  (Fig. 
X.  7) ;  CoskinoliiM,  Stache ;  Placopsiliiia,  D'Orb. ;  Haplosliche, 
Reuss;  Lil>{ola,  Lamarck  ;  Bdclloidina,  Carter. 

Fam.  2.  Tr.ociiAMMiNiNA.  Test  thin,  composed  of  "minute 
sand-giains  incorporated  with  calcareous  and  other  organic  cement, 
or  embedded  in  a  chitinous  membrane  ;  exterior  smooth,  often 
polished  ;  interior  smooth  or  rarely  reticulated  ;  never  labyrinthic. 

Genera. — Thurammina,  Brady  (test  consisting  typically  of  a 
single  spherical  chamber  with  several  mammillate  apertures,  Fig. 
X.  5,  6) ;  Eippocrcpina,  Parker ;  Jlormosina,  Brady ;  Ammo- 
discus,  Reuss ;  TTOckammina,  Paiker  and  Jones ;  Carteriiia, 
Brady;  Wtbbiiia,  D'Orb. 

Fam.  3.  -Endotuyrina.  Test  more  calcareous  and  less  sandy 
than'iu  the  other  groups  of  Lituolidca;  sometimes  perforate; 
«eptatiop  distinct. 

Genera. — Nodosinella,  Brady  ;  PolypJtragma,  Reuss  ;  Involulina, 
Terq. ;  Endolhyra,  Phillips  ;  Bradyina,  Miill. ;  Stacluia,  Brady. 

Fam.  4.  Loftusina.'  Test  of  relatively  large  size  ;  lenticular, 
spherical,  or  fusiform  ;  constructed  either  on  a  spiral  plan  or  in 
concentric  layers,  the  chamber  cavities  occupied  to  a  large  extent 
by  the  excessive  development  of  the  finely  arenaceous  cancellated 
v?aU3. 

Genera, — Cyclammina,  Brady  ;  Loflusia,  Brady  ;  Parkeria, 
Carpenter. 

Sub-class  B.  Perforata. 

Characlers. — Shell  substance  perforated  by  numerous  minute 
apertures,  through  which  as  well  as  from  the  main  aperture  the 
protoplasm  cnn  issue. 

Order  G.  TEXTULARIDEA,  Brady. 

Characlers. — Testa  of  the  larger  species  arenaceous,  either  with 
or  without  a  perforate  calcareous  basis  ;  smaller  foi-ms  hyaline  and 
eonspicnously  perforated.  Chambers  arranged  in  two  or  more 
alternating  series,  or  spiral  or  confused  ;  often  dimorphous. 

Fam.  1.  Textulauina.  Typically  bi-  or  tri-serial ;  often  bi- 
rarely  tri-morphous. 

Genera. — Talularia  Dcfranco  ;  Curuoltna,  D'Orb.  ;  Vemeiul- 
ina,  D'Orb. ;  Tritaxin,  Reuss ;  Chrysalieiina,  D'Orb. ;  Bigciurina, 
D'Orb. ;  I'aronina,  D'Orb. ;  Spiroplccla,  Khr. ;  Qaudrjfina,  D'Orb. ; 
Vaimtlina,  D'Orb.;  Claviilina,  D'Orb. 


Fam.  2.  Buliminin'a.  Typically  spiral ;  weaker  forms  more  or 
less  regularly  biserial ;  aperture  oblique,  comma-shaped  or  some 
modification  of  that  form. 

Genera.— j9K?mHm,  D'Orb.,;  Virgtilina,'  D'Ovh.  ;•  B if ariiia, 
Parker  and  Jones ;  Bolivina,  D'Orb.;  Plcuroslomclla,  Reuss.'  ,  - 

Fam.  3.  Casbidulina.  Test  consisting  of  a  Tcxtularia-like  series 
of  alternating  segments  more  or  less  coiled  upon  itself. 

Genera. — Cassidulina,  D'Orb.;  Ehrenbergina,  Reuss. 

Order  6.  CHILOSTOMELLIDEA,'  Brady.  , 
'CharcuUcrs. — Test  calcareous,  finely  perforate,  many-cliambered. 
Segments  following  each  other  from  the  same  end  of  the  long  axis, 
or  alternately  at  the  two  ends,  or  in  cycles  of  three,  more  or  less 
embracing.  Aperture  a  curved  slit  at  the  end  or  margin  of  the  final 
segment. 

Gener&.—Ellipsoidma,  Segaeuza ;  Chiloslomella,  Reasa  ;  Alio- 
morphina,  Beuss. 

Order?.  LAGENIDEA,  Brady. 

Characters. — Test  calcareous,  very  finely  perforated  ;_  either 
single-chambered,  or  cousistingof  a  number  of  chambers  joined  in 
a  straight,  curved,  spiral,  alternating,  or  (rarely)  branching  seiies. 
Aperture  simple  or  radiate,  terminal.  No  interseptal  skeleton  nor 
canal  system. 

Fam.  1.  Lagenina.     Shell  single-chambered. 

Genera. — Lugaia,  Walker  and  Boys;  Nodosaria,  Lamk.  ;  Lin- 
gulina,  D'Orb.  ;  Frondicidaria,  Defrance  ;  Rhabdogonium,  Reuss  ; 
MarginvUna,  D'Orb.  ;  Vagimilina,  D'Orb.  ;  Rimulina,  D'Orb.  ; 
Cri5(;cHaria,Lamk.  ;  Amphicoryne,?ic:\i\\xmh.  ;  Lingulinops^s,'S.tMS&; 
FlabelUna,  D'Orb.  ;  ^Amphimorphiita,  Neiigeb.  ; .  Dentalinopsis, 
Reuss. 

Fam.  2.  Poltmorphin'IKA."  Segments  arranged  spirally  or 
irregularly  around  the  long  axis  ;  rarely  biserial  and  alteiTiate. 

Genera.  —Polyinorphina,  D'Orb.  ;  Dimorphina,  D'Orb.  ;  Uviger- 
ina,  D'Orb.  ;  Sagrina,  P.  and  J. 

Fam.  3.  Ramulinina.  Shell  branching,  composed  of  spherical 
or  pyriform  chambers  connected  by  long  stoloniferous  tubes. 

Gen\xs.—Ramulina,  Rupert  Jones. 

Order  8.  GLOBIGERINIDEA,  Brady. 

Characters. — Test  free,  calcareous,  perforate  ;  chambers  few, 
inflated,  arranged  spirally ;  aperture  single  or  multiple,  con- 
spicuous. No  supplementary  skeleton  nor  canal  system.  All  the 
larger  species  pelagic  in  habit. 

Geaei-n.—Glbbigerina,  D'Orb.  (Fig.  XII.  6) :  Orbulina,  D'Orb 
(Fig.  XIL  8) ;  Hastigcrina,  Wy.  Thomson  (Fig.  XI1..6) ;  Pul- 
Icnia,  P.  and  J.  ;  Splixroidina,  D'Orb.  ;  Candeina,  D'Orb. 

Order  9.  ROTALIDEA,  Brady. 

Characters. — Test  calcareous,  perforate  ;  free  or  adherent.  Typi- 
cally spiral  and  "rotaliform"  (Fig.  XII.  2),  that  is  to  say,  coiled 
in  such  a  manner  that  the  whole  of  the  segments  aro  visible  on  the 
superior  surface,  those  of  the  last  convolution  only  on  tlie  Inferior 
or  apertural  side,  sometimes  one  face  being  more  convex  sometimes 
the  other.  Aberrant  forms  evolute,  outspread,  acervuline,  or 
irregular.  Some  of  the  higher  modifications  with  double  chamber- 
walls,  supplemental  skeleton,  and  a  system  of  canals.  The  nature 
of  this  supplemental  skeleton  is  shown  in  Pig.  XII.  2  and  10. 

Fam.  1.  SpiRiLLiNiNA.  Test  a  complanate,  planospiral,  non- 
septate  tube  ;  free  or  attached. 

Genus. — Spirillina,  Ehr. 

Fam.  2.  Rotauna.  Test  spiral,  rotaliform,  rarely  evolute,  very 
rarely  irregular  or  acervuline. 

Genera. — Palcllina,  Williamson;  Cytnbalopora,  Way;  Discorbina, 
P.  and  J. ;  Planorbulina,  D'Orb. ;  Truncaluliiia,  D'Orb.  ;  Anomal- 
ina,  P.  and  J.  ;  Carpcnteria,  Gray  (adherent) ;  Rupcrtia, 
Wallick  ;  Ptdvinulina,  P.  and  J.  ;  Rotalia,  Lamk.  ;  Cakarina, 
D'Orb.  [Shell  rotaliform ;  periphery  furnished  with  radiating 
spines  ;  supplemental  skeleton  and  canal  system  largely  developed. 
■This  form  is  shown  in  a  dissected  condition  in  Fig.  XII.  10.  Outsulo 
and  between  the  successive  chambers  with  fimdy  perforated  walls 
a',  a',  a*  a  secondary  shcU-substauco  is  deposited  by  tho  proto- 
plasm which  has  a  dill'erent  structure.  Whilst  the  successive 
chambers  with  their  finely  perforate  walls  (resembling  dentine  in 
structure)  aro  formed  by  the  ni.Tss  of  protoplasm  issuing  from  the 
mouth  of  tho  last-formed  chamber,  the  secondary  or  supplemental- 
shell  substance  is  formed  by  the  protoplasm  which  issues  through 
tho  fine  perforations  of  the  primary  shell  substance  ;  it  is  not 
finely  canal iculated,  but  is  of  denser  substance  than  tho  primary 
shell  and  traversed  by  coarse  canals  (occupied  by  the  ]>rotoplnsm) 
which  make  their  way  to  tho  surface  of  tho  test  (c*,  c).  In  Cal- 
carina  a  large  bulk  of  this  secondary  shell-substance  is  deposited 
around  each  chamber  and  also  forms  the  heavy  clubliko  spines.] 

Fam.  3.  Tixo)'okina.  Test  consi.sting  of  irregularly  heaped 
chambers  with  (or  sometimes  without)  a  more  or  less  distinctly 
spiral  primordial  portion  ;  for  the  most  part  without  any  general 
pseudoi>odial  aperture. 


848 


PROTOZOA 


[nETlCULARfA, 


Gciioia. — Tiuojmnis,  Carpenter;  Gypsina,  Carter;  Aplirosiim, 
Carter  ;  Thalamopura,  Iv'ocmcr  ;  Pohjtrcma,  Kisso.  [Shell  para- 
sitic, encrusting,  or  arborescent;  snrface  areolated,  coloured  pink 
or  white,  Fig.  XII.  9.  Interior  partly  occupied  by  small  chamber.", 
arranged  iu  more  or  less  regular  layers,  and  partly  by  non- 
segmented  canal-like  spaces,  often  crowded  with  sponge-spicules 
No  true  canal  system.  This  is  one  of  the  most  important  types  as 
exhibiting  the  arborescent  and  eucrustii'g  form  of  growth.  It  is 
fairlv  abundant.] 


iFio.  XII.— Perforata.    1.  Spiral  arrangement  of  simple  chambers  of  a 
Reticulaiian  shell.  2.  Ditto,  ^vith  douljle  septal  walls,  aucl  supple- 

mental sliell-substance  (shaded).  3.  Diagram  to   show  the  mode  in 

which  successively-formed  chambers  may  completely  embrace  their  pre- 
decessors, 4.  Diagram  of  a  simple  straight  seiies  of  non-embracing 
chambers.  6.  Haslifjcrhia  {Globigcriiia)  Murrayi,  Wyy.  Thomson. 
n,  bubbly  (vacuolated)  protoplasm,  enclosing  b,  the  perforated  Globi- 
gerina-like  sbell  (conf.  central  capsule  of  Hadiolaria).  From  the  peripheral 
protoplasm  project,  not  only  flue  pseudopodia,  but  hollow  spines  of 
calcareous  matter,  which  are  set  on  the  shell,  and  have  an  axis  of  active 
protoplasm.  Pelagic;  drawn  iu  the  living  state.  6.  Globiffcrina 
buUoidi's,  D'Orb.,  showing  the  punctiform  perforations  of  the  shell  and 
the  main  aperture.  7.  I'ragiuent  of  the  shell  of  Globigerina,  seen 
fl'om  within,  a)ul  highly  magnified,  a,  fine  perfor.ations  in  the  inner  shell 
substances ;  b,  outer  (secondary)  shell  substance.  Two  coarser  perfora- 
tions are  seen  in  section,  and  one  lying  among  the  smaller.  8.  Or- 
hulina   vitivcna,    D'Orb.     Pelagic   example,   with    adherent    radiating 


calcareous  spines  (hollow),  and  internally  a  small  Globigerina  shell.  It  ii 
uncertain  whether  Oibnlma  is  merely  n  developmental  phase  of  Globi- 
gerina. a,  Orbulina  shell;  6,  Globigerina  shell.  9.  Poli/trcma  mviia- 
ceum,  Liu.  ;  x  1'2.  Medilen-anean.  i^xiimple  of  a  branched  adherent  cal- 
careous  perforate  Reticularian.  10.  Calcat-ina  Spenjteri,  Gmel. ;  x  10. 
Tertiary,  ;>icily.  Shell  dissected  -60  as  to  show  the  spiial  airangement  o( 
the  chambers,  and  the  copious  secondary  shell  substance,  o^,  fl*,  aV 
chambers  of  three  successive  coils  in  section,  showing  the  thin  primary 
wall  (finely  tubulate)  of  each  ;  b,  b,  b,  b,  peifurate  surfaces  of  the  primary 
wall  of  four  tiers  of  chambers,  from  which  tlie  secondary  shell  substance 
has  been  cleared  away;  c',  c\  secondary  or  iutermcdiate  shell  substance 
iu  section,  showing  coarse  eanaU  ;  d,  section  of  secondary  shell  substance 
at  right  angles  to  c' ;  e,  tubercles  of  secondary  shell  substance  on  tha 
surface  ;  /,/;  club-like  processes  of  secondary  shell  substance.  '    ~ 

OiiDER  10.-  NUiniULINIDEA,  Brady. 

Characters. — Test  calcareous  and  finely  tubulated  ;  typicanjj 
free,  many-chambered,  and  symmetrically  spiral.  The  liighef 
modifications  all  possess  a  supplemental  skeleton,  and  canal  .systeti 
of  grc.iter  or  less  complexity. 

f'am.  1.  FusuLiNiNA.  Shell  bilaterally  symmetrical ;  chambers 
extemling  from  pole  to  pole;  each  convolution  completely  enclosing 
the  previous  whorls.  Shell-wall  finely  tubulated.  Septa  single  or 
rarely  double ;  no  true  interseptal  canals.  Aperture  a  single 
elongated  slit,  or  a  row  of  small  rounded  pores,  at  the  inner  cog? 
of  the  filial  segment. 

Genera. — Fusidliia,  Fisclier  ;  Schwagerina,  JsIoUfer. 

Fam.  2.  PoLYsTOMELLiNA  Shell  bilaterally  Symmetrical,  naulii 
loyl.  Lower  forms  without  sup(ileinental  skeleton  or  interseptal 
canals  ;  higher  types  with  canals  opening  at  regular  intervals  along 
the  external  septal  depressions. 

Genera. — Nonionina,  D'Orb.  ;  PohjstomeUa,  Lamai^ck. 

Fam.  3.  NrMMULtTixA.  Shell  lenticular  or  complanate  ;  lower 
forms  with  thickened  and  finely  tubulated  shell-wall,  but  no  inteN 
mediate  skeleton  ;  higher  forms  w  ith  interseptal  skeleton  and  coiaJ 
tilex  canal  system. 

Ocuera. — Archssodisciis,  Brady  ;  Amphistcgina,  D'Orb.  ;  Oper- 
culinn,  D'Orb.  ;  Hclerostegina,  D'Orb.  :  Nummulites,  Lamarck ; 
Assilina,  D'Orb. 

Fam.  4.  Cyclocltpeina.  Shell  complanate,  with  thickened 
centre,  or  lenticular  ;  consisting  of  a  disk  of  chambers  an-anged 
in  concentric  annuli,  with  more  or  less  lateral  thickening  of  lami- 
nated shell  substance,  or  acervuline  layers  of  chamberlcts.  Sept» 
double  and  furnished  with  a  system  of  interseptal  canals. 

Genera. — Cyclodypetts,  Carpenter;  OrKtoidcs,  D'Orb. 

Fam.  5.  Eozoonina.  Test  forming  irregular,  adherent,  aeervK 
line  masses. 

Genus. — Eozoon,  Dawson. 

Further  rcmarKs  on  the  lieticulai-ia.—The  name  Thalamop^iortJ 
pointing  to  the  peculiar  tendency  which  the  larger  members  ot 
the  group  have  to  form  chamber  after  chamber  and  so  to  build  np 
a  complex  shell,  has  been  proposed  by  Hertwig  (56)  and  adopted  by 
many  writers.  The  old  name  Foraniinifera  (which  did  not  refe< 
to  the  fine  perforations  of  the  Perforata  but  to  the  large  pserido^ 
podial  aperture  'leading  from  chamber  to  chamber)  has  also  beeil 
extended  by  some  so  as  to  include  the  simpler  Gromia-like  forms.) 
On  tho  whole  Carpenter's  terra  Reticularia  (62)  seems  most  suitable 
for  ths  group,  since  they  nil  present  the  character  indicated.  Jt 
has  been  objected  that  the  Radiolaria  are  also  reticniar  in  their 
j>seudopodia,  but  if  ive  except  the  pelagic  forms  of  Reticularia 
(Globigerina,  Orbulina,  &c. ),  we  find  that  the  Radiolaria  are  really 
distinguishable  by  their  stiffer,  straighter,  radiating  pseudopodia.i 
No  doubt  the  Labyrinthulid  Clilamydomyxa  and  the  plasmodia  of 
some  Mycetozoa  are  as  reticular  in  their  pseudopodia  as  tho 
Reticularia,  but  they  possess  other  distinctive  features  which 
serve,  at  any  rate  in  an  artificial  system,  to  separate  them. 

The  protoplasm  of  the  majority  of  the  Reticularia  is  unknownj 
or  only  very  superficially  observed  ;  hence  we  have  made  a  point  of 
introducing  among  our  figures  as  many  as  possible  which  show  this 
essential  part  of  the  organism.  It  is  only  recently  (1876)  that 
nuclei  have  been  detected  in  the  calcareous-shelled  members  of  th« 
group,  and  they  have  only  been  seen  in  a  few  cases. 

The  protoplasm  of  the  larger  shell-making  forms  is  known  to  bo 
often  strongly  coloured,  opaque,  and  creamy,  but  its  minute  struc- 
ture remains  for  future  investigation.  Referring  the  reader  to  tho 
ligures  and  their  explanation,  we  would  draw  especial  attention  to 
tlie  structure  of  the  protoplasmic  body  of  Hastigerina  (one  of  the 
Glohigerinidea)  as  detected  by  the  "Challenger  natuialists.  It 
will  be  seen  from  Fig.  XII.  5  that  the  protoplasm  extends  as  a  rela- 
tively enormous  "bubbly"  mass  around  the  shell  which  is  sunk 
witliin  it ;  from  the  surface  of  this  "  bubbly  "  (vacuolated  or  nlveol- 
ated)  mass  the  pseudopodia  radiate. 

Tlie  reader  is  requested  to  compare  this  itith  Fig.  XIII.,  repre- 
senting the  "bubbly  "  protoplasmic  body  of  ThalassicoUa.  It  then 
becomes  olr\'ious  that  the  perforated  central  capsule  CK  of  the  latter 
holds  the  same  relation  to  the  mass  of  the  protoplasm  as  does  the 
central  perforated  shell  of  Globigerina  (Hastigerina)  The  extreme 
vacuolatiou  of  the   protoplasm  in  both  cases  (the  vacuoles  bcinc 


I 


ItfADIOLARIA.] 


PI    a  T  O  Z  O  A 


«49 


filled  with  sea-water  accanulated  by  endosniosis)  and  the  stiff  radiat- 
ing pseu Jopodia  arc  directly  correlated  with  the  floating  pelagic  life  of 
the  two  organisms.  All  the  Radiolaria  are  pelagic,  and  many  exhibit 
this  vacuolation  ;  only  afewoftheReticulariaareeo,  and  their  struc- 
tural correlation  to  that  habit  has  only  lately  been  ascertjiined. 

The  Reticularia  are  almost  exclusively  known  by  their  shells, 
which  offer  a  most  interesting  field  for  stndy  on  account  of  the  very 
great  complexity  of  form  attained  by  some  of  them,  notwithstand- 
ing the  fact  tliat  the  animal  which  produces  them  is  a  simpje  uni- 
ceDuIar  Protozoon.  Space  does  not  permit  the  exposition  .hero  of 
the  results  obtained  by  Carpenter  in  the  study  of  the  comydex  shells 
of  Orbitolites,  Operculina,  Nummulites,  ic. ;  it  is  essential  that  his 
•work  fnlrodnction  to  the  IStxidy  of  the  Fora/minifera  (Ray  Society, 
1862)  should  be  consulted,  and  in  reference  to  the  sandy-shelled 
forms  the  monograph  by  Brady,  in  the  ChalUngir  lifports,  vol.  ix. , 
1883  ;  and  it  must  De  sufficient  here  to  point  out  the  general  prin- 
ciples of  the  shell-architecture  of  the  Reticularia.  Let  us  suppose 
that  we  have  an  ever-growing  protoplasmic  boily  which  tends  to 
produce  a  calcareous  shell  on  its  surface,  leaving  an  aperture  for  the 
exit  of  its  pseudopodia.  It  will  grow  too  large  for  its  shell  and 
accnmnlate  outside  the  shell.  The  accumulated  external  mass  may 
then  secrete  a  second  chamber,  resting  on  the  firat  as  chamber  1 
rests  oil.  «hamber  0  in  Fig.  XII.  4.  By  further  growth  a  now 
chamber  Is  necessitated,  and  so  is  produced  a  series  following  one 
another  in  a  straight  line,  each  chamber  communicating  with  the 
newer  one  in  front  of  it  by  the  narrow  pseudopodial  aperture 
^a,  a',  a*,  a').  Now  it  is  possible  for  these  chambers  to  bo  very 
Tariously  arranged  instead  of  simply  as  in  Fig.  XII.  4.  For  instance, 
each  newchamoer  may  completely  enclose  the  last,  as  in  Fig.  XII. 
3,  supposing  the  protoplasm  to  spread  all  over  the  outside  of  the 
old  chamber  before  making  a  new  deposit.  Again  the  chambers 
need  not  succeed  one  another  in  a  straight  line,  but  may  be  dis- 
posed in  a  spiral  (Fig.  XII.  1).  And  this  spiral  may  be  a  flat  coil, 
or  it  may  be  a  helicino  spiral  with  a  rising  axis  ;  further  it  may  be 
close  or  open.  All  these  fonns  in  various  degrees  of  elaboration 
are  exhibited  by  Miliolidca  and  various  Perforata. 

But  the  Perforata  in  virtue  of  their  perforate  shell-walls  introduce 
ft  now  complication.  The  protoplasm  issues  not  only  from  the 
mouth  of  the  last-formed  chamber,  but  from  the  numerous  pores  in 
the  wall  itself.  This  latter  protoplasm  exerts  its  lime-secreting 
functions;  it  gathers  itself  into  coarse  branching  threads  which 
remain 'uncalcified,  whihst  alLaronnd  a  dense  deposit  of  secondary 
or  supplemental  ehell-substance  is  thrown  down,  thus  producing  a 
fcoarsefy  canalicular  structure.  The  thickness  and  amount  of  this 
eecondary  shell  and  the  position  it  may  occupy  between  and  around 
the  chambers  of  primitive  shcU-substance  vary  necessarily  in  dif- 
ferent genera  according  to  the  mode  in  which  the  primitive  cham- 
bers are  arranged  and  connected  with  one  another.  C'alcarina  is  a 
fairly  typical  instance  of  an  abundant  secondary  shell-deposit  (Fig. 
Xll.  10),  audit  is  the  existence  ofstructure  resembling  the  chambciB 
of  Calcarina  with  their  surrounding  primary  and  secondary  shcU- 
enbstances  which  has  rendered  it  necessary  to  regard  Eozoon  (41)  as 
the  metamorphosed  encru.sting  shell  of  a  pre-Cambrian  Reticularian. 
<The  division  of  the  Reticularia  into  Imperforata  and  Perforata 
which  is  here  maintained  has  no  longer  the  significance  which  was 
once  attributed  to  it.  It  appears,  according  to  the  researches  of 
Brady,  that  it  is  not  po.isible  to  draw  a  sharp  lino  between  these 
eub-elasscs,  since  there  are  sandy  forms  which  it  is  difficult  to 
separate  fron\.  imperforate  Lituoliilea  and  arc  nevertheless  perforate, 
(n  fact  are  "sandy  i.somorpha  of  Lageiia,  Nodosarin,  Gloliigcrina, 
arid  Rotalia."  It  does  not  appear  to  the  present  writer  that  there 
can  be  any  insurmountable  difficulty  in  separating  the  Lituolidea 
into-  two  groups — those  which  are  sandy  isoniorphs  of  the  porcel- 
lanous  Miliolidca,  and  those  which  are  sandy  i.somorphs  of  the 
hyaline  Perforata.  The  two  groups  of  Lituolidea  thus  formed 
might  be  placed  in  their  natural  association  respectively  with  the 
Imperforate  and  the  Perforata. 

'1  ho  attempt  to  do  this  has  not  been  made  here,  tut  the  clnssifi- 
.'^ation  of  Brady  has  been  adopted.  In  Biitschli's  Inrgework  on  the 
Protozoa  (9)  the  breaking  up  of  tho  Lituolidea  is  carried  out  to  a 
logical  conclusion,  and  its  members  disjiersed  among  the  Jliliolidia 
on  the  one  hand  and  the  various  orders  of  Pcrfor.ita  on  the  other  hand. 

The  calcareous  shell-substance  of  tho  Miliolidca  being  o|iac|ue 
«nd  whita  has  led  to  their  being  called  "Porcellana,"  whilst  the 
transparent  calcareous  shells  of  the  smaller  Perforata  has  gained 
for  that  group  the  synonym  of  "  Hyalina." 

Tho  BUoUs  of  tho  calcareous  Reticularia  and  of  some  of  tho 
larger  arenaceous  forms  are  found  in  stratified  rocks,  from  tho 
PaliEOZoio  strata  onwards.  Tho  Clmlk  is  in  places  largely  com- 
posed of  their  shells,  and  tho  Eoccno  Numinulitic  limestone  is 
mainly  a  cemented  mass  of  tho  shells  of  Nummulites  often  as 
large  each  as  a  shilling."  The  Atlantic  ooze  is  a  chalky  deposit 
consisting  laijjcly  of  tho  shells  of  Globigcrina,  &c. 

Cl,A.ss  VII.  BADIOLARU,  Ilacckol,  18C3  (63)  [rohjcyslina,  Ehr.). 

Charadlcrs. — Oymnomyxa   in  wliirh   the   protoplasmic  body  of 

the  dominant  amceba  phase  has  the  form  of  a  sphere  or  cone  from 


the  surface  of  which  radiate  filamentouff  pseudojioiliB,  occasionally 
anastomosing,  and  encloses  a  spherical  (liomaxonic)  or  conc-bliaiwd 
(monaxonic)  perforated  shell  of  membranous  consistence  known  aa 
the  central  capsule,  and  probably  homologous  with  the  perforated 
shell  of  a  Globigerina.  Tho  protoplasm  within  the  ca])sule  (intra* 
capsular  protoplasm)  is -continuous  through  the  pores  or  apertuiva 
of  the  capsule  with  tlie  outer  protoplasm.  Kmbedded  in  the  former 
lies  tho  large  and  specialized  nucleus  (one  or  more).  Oelatiuoua 
substance  is  frequently  formed  peripherally  by  the  extracspsuUi 
protoplasm,  constituting  a  kind  of  soft  mantle  which  is  penetrated 
by  the  pseudopodia.     A  contractile  vacuole  is  never  present. 

Usually  an  abundant  skeleton,  consisting  of  spicules  of  silica  or 
of  a  peculiar  substance  called  acanthin  arranged  radially  or  tangeu- 
tially,  loose  or  united  into  a  basket-work,  is  present.  Oil  globuleti, 
pigment,  and  crystals  are  found  iu  gieater  or  less  abundance  in 
the  protoplasm. 

In  most  but  not  all  Radiolaria  peculiar  nucleated  yellow  cor- 
puscles are  abundantly  present,  usually  regarded  as  parasitic  Alge. 
Reproduction  by  fission  has  been  observed,  and  also  in  some  few 
species  a  peculiar  formation  of  swarm-spores  (flagellula?)  within  the 
central  capsule,  in  which  the  nucleus  takes  an  important  part. 
All  the  Radiolaria  are  marine.  The  Radiolaria  are  divided  into 
two  sub-classes  according  to  the  chemical  nature  of  their  spicular 
skeleton,  and  into  orders  according  to  the  nature  and  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  apertures  in  the  wall  of  tho  central  capsule. 


Fio.  \1\l.—Thnlaiiieottar'tagica,'n&ti:V<!\;  x  S5.       CE,  central  caiisnie ; 

KP,  extracapaulnr  protonlasiu ;  al.  alvcolf,  ll'inftl  holding  Taciioles  m  th» 
,  in-otoplaam  ainillar  to  tlioBe  of  Ilellozo.-*,  Pelomyxa,  Hafttlgerina,  &c.;  p», 

p&euilopodia.    Tho  minute  unlettered  dots  arc  tlie  "yellow  cclie." 

SuD-ci.A.'iS   I.  Silico-Skeleta,  Lankcster. 

Cliarncltn. — A  more  or  less  elabornto  basket-work  of  tangential 
and  radial  elements  consisting  of  secreted  silica  is  present ;  in  rare 
exceptions  no  skeleton  is  developed. 

OrdkrI.  PEHIPYL^A,  Hertwig. 

CkarMfers. — Silicoskeletal  Riidiolarla  in  which  tho  central  cap- 
sule is  uniformly  perforated  all  oi-er  by  fine  poie-cnnala  ;  its  form  in 
that  of  a'  sjihcre  (liomaxonic),  and  to  this  form  the  siliceous  skeleton 
primarily  conforms,  though  it  may  become  discoid,  rhabdoid,  or 
irregular.  The  nucleus  is  usually  single,  but  numerous  nuclei  niv 
present  in  each  central  capsule  of  the  Polvcyltaria. 

Fain.  ].  Srii^nmA,  Haeck.  Spherical  Peripvlrea  with  a  sidieri- 
cal  basket-work  skeleton,  sometimes  surroundccf  by  a  spoiii;y  oiiti-r 
ski-leton,  soiiu'tiuies  simple,  sometimes  composed  of  many  concentric 
spheres  (never  discoid,  flattened,  or  irregular).  Tho  ccntr.-il  .  n|>sulc 
sometimes  encloses  a  part  of  tho  spherical  skeleton,  and  often  is 
penetrated  by  radiating  elements. 

Genera  (selected). —i7/iHi««/i/(/rra,  Haeck.;  Xiphoxphmrn,  llaeck. ; 
Stanrosphicra,  Haeck.  ;  liclwsphrcra,  Haeck.  (Fig.  XIV.  14)  ;  Js- 
tro7nma,  Haeck.  :  JIaliomma,  Haeck.  ;  Jelinomma,  Haeck.  (Fig. 
XIV.  17;  note  tho  sphere  within  sphere,  the  sniiiUcst  lying  in  the 
nunleus,  and  the  whole  series  of  spherical  sheila  coiinectcd  by  radial 
8|iines) ;  jirachnosphiern,  llaeck.  ;  I'lfamnsit/ima,  Maeek.  ;  SjmKjo-, 
syJiara,  Ilaei-k.  (Fig.  XVI.  8). 

F'am.  2.  IJiRtinA,  Haeck.  Discoid  PeripylH}a  ;  both  skeleton, 
and  central  capsule  flattened. 

Genera   (selected). — rinroiUsai.i,  Haeck.  ;   HcliodiKux    lUcck. 
Spougodisau,  Haeck.  ;  Svongurua,  Haeck. 


39-30 


8r>o 


ritOTOZOA 


[radiolae;\> 


ram.  -3.  Thalassicollida.  Pcnpyltsa  devoid  of  a  skeleton,  or 
with  a  skeleton  composed  of  loose  siliceoua  spicules  only.  Nucleus 
siugle  ;  central  capsule  and  general  protoplasm  spherical. 

Genera  (selected). — ThalassicoUa,  Huxley  (Fig.  XIII.,  Jig. 
SIV.  1) ;  Thalassosphxra,  Haeck.  ;  PhysctncUinm,  Haeck. 

Fam.  4.  PoLTCYTTARlA.  PeripvliBa  consisting  of  colonies  of 
many  central  capsules  united  by  their  e.ttracapsular  protoplasm. 
Central  capsules  multiplying  by  fission.  Nuclei  in  each  central 
capsule  numerous.  Siliceous  skeleton  either  absent,  or  of  loose 
spicules,  or  having  the  form  of  a  spherical  fenestrated  shell  sur- 
rounding each  central  capsule. 

Genera  (selected). — CoUosphiera,  Miiller  (with  fenestrated  globular 
skeleton) ;  Sphssrozoum,  Haeck.  (skeleton  of  numerous  loose  spicules 
which  are  branched);  Raphidozoum,  Haeck.  (spicules  simple);  Col- 
ioioum,  Miiller  (devoid  of  skeleton,  fig.  XIV.  2,  3,  4,  5). 


^■10.  XlV.— Eadiolaria.  l.  Central  capsule  of  Thalassicolla  nudeata, 
Huxley,  in  radial  section,  a,  the  lai-ge  nucleus  (Binnenblaschen);  6,' 
corpusculiir  structures  of  the  intracapsular  protoplasm  containing  con- 
cretions ;  c,  wall  of  the  capsule  (membranous  shell),  showing  the  fine 
rqdia!  pore-canals;  d,  nucleolar  fibres  (chromatin  substance)  of  the 
nucleus.  2,  3.  CoUozoum  inerme,  J.  MuUer.  two  different  forme  of 

colonies,  of  the  natural  size.  4.    Central  capsule  from  a  colony  of 

CoUozoum  inft-ine,  showing  the  intracapsular  protoplasm  and  nucleus, 
broken  up  into  a  number  of  spores,  the  germs  of  swarm-spores  or  fiafellula) ; 


each  encloses  a  crj'stalline  ro.i.  c,  yellow  cells  lying  in  the  extrncapenlar 
protoplasju.  5.  A  sni:ill  colouy  of  CoUuzonm  tnenne,  ma(;nitled  25 

diameters,  fl,  alveoli  (\acuoles)  of  the  extracapsular  protoi>lasm ;  6, 
central  capsules,  each  coutiiining  besides  protoplasm  a  largo  oil-;;lobule. 
6-13.  Yellow  cells  of  various  Radiolaria :— C,  normal  yellow  cell;  7,  8, 
division  with  formation  of  transveise  septum ;  9,  a  niodifled  condition 
according  to  Brandt ;  10,  division  of  a  yellow  cell  into  four  ;  11,  amoeboid 
condition  of  a  yellmv  cell  from  the  body  of  a  dead  Spha;rozoon ;  12,  a 
similar  cell  in  process  of  division  ;  13,  a  yellow  cell  the  pi-otuplasm  <■! 
which  is  creeping  out  of  its  cellulose    envelope.  14.    }tcliosph:i-ya 

inemii's,  Haeck.,  living  example;  x  400.  a,  nucleus;  6,  central  capsule  ; 
c,  Siliceous  baekef-work  skeleton.  15.  Two  swarm-spores  (tiajiellula;) 

of  CoUozoum,  inermf,  sat  free  from  such  a  central  capsule  as  that  drawn  in 
4  ;  each  contains  a  crystal  h  and  a  nucleus  a.  16.  Two  swarni-spores 

of  CoUozoum  inermf,  of  the  second  kind,  viz.,  devoid  of  crystals,  and  of 
two  sizes,  a  macrospore  and  a  microspore.  They  have  been  set  free 
from  central  capsules  with  contents  of  a  ditferent  appearance  from  that 
drawniril.  a,  nuuleus.  17.  .dcfinoinma  ns/er«an(/iton,  Haeck  ;  x  200; 
one  of  the  Peripyla-a.  Entire  animal  in  optical  section,  a,  nucleus; 
&,  wall  of  the  central  capsule  ;  c,  innermost  siliceous  shell  enclosed  in  the 
nucleus;  ci,  middle  shell  lying  within  the  central  capsule  ;  c-,  outer  shell 
lying  in  the  extr.acapsular  protoplasm.  Four  radial  siliceous  spines,  hold 
log  the  three  spherical  shells  together  are  seen.  The  nadial  fibrillation  of 
the  protoplasm  and  the  fine  extracapsular  pseudopodia  are  to  be  noted. 
19,  Amphitonche  inessamnsis,  Uaeck:  x  200:  one  of  the  Acauthometridea. 
Entire  animal  as  seen  living. 

Order  2.  MONOPYL.SA,  Hertwig. 

Characters. — Silico-skeletal  Radiolaria  iu  which  the  central  cap- 
sule is  not  spherical  bilt  monaxonic  (cone-shaped),  with  a  siugle  per- 
forate area  (pore-plate)  placed  on  the  basal  face  of  the  cone ;  the 
membrane  of  the  capsule  is  simple,  the  nucleus  single  ;  the  skeleton 
is  extracapsular,  and  forms  a  scatfold-like  or  bee-hive-lika  structure 
of  monasouic  form. 


Fro.  XV.—En^vrtidium  cranioidcs.  Haeck;  xl50;  one  of  the  Xlonopytex 
Entire  animal  as  seen  in  the  living  condition.  The  central  capsule  i£ 
hidden  by  the  bee-hlve-shaped  siliceous  shell  within  which  It  is  lodged. 

Fam.  1.  Plectida,  Haeck.  Skeleton  formed  of  siliceous  spines 
loosely  conjoined. 

Genera  (selected). — Plagiacantka,  Haeck.  ;  FUghiatium,  Haeck. 

Fam.  2.  CyktIda,  Haeck.  Skeleton  a  nionaxonic  or  triradiata 
shell,  or  continuous  piece  (bee-hive-shaped). 

Genera  (selected). — Ualicahjplra,  Haeck.  ;  Eucyrtidiu-ni,  Haeck. 
(Fig.  XV.);  Carpocanium;  Haeck.  (Fig.  XVI.  3). 

Fam.  3.  Botei da,  Haeck.  Inegular  forms ;  the  shell  composed 
of  several  chambers  agglomerated  without  definite  order ;  a  single 
centra^  capsule. 

Genera. — Botri/ocyrlis,  Haeck.  ;  Lilhohotrys,  Haeck. 

Fam.  4.  Spyrida,  Haeck.  Gemmiuate  forms,  with  shell  con- 
bisting  of  two  conjoined  chambers  ;  a  single  central  capsule. 

Fam.  5.  Stei'Hida,  Haeck.  Skeleton  cricoid,  forming  a  single 
siliceous  ring  or  several  conjoined  rings. 

Genera  (selected). — Acanlhodesmia,,  Haeck.;  Zygoslephanus, 
Haeck.  ;  Lilhodrcus,  Haeck.  (Fig.  XVI.  1). 

Order  3.  PH.^ODARIA,  Haeck.  (Tripylxa,  Hertwig). 
(?Aarac'«ri. —''ilico-.'skeletal    Eadiolaria    in   which    the    central 


■RADIOLARIA.] 


PROTOZOA 


85 1 


no.  XVI.— Radiolaria.  1.  Lilhoeiroiur anmitaris,  HerhHg;  one  o(  the 
Mononylffia.  Whoto  animaMn  the  living  statu  (upticoi  section),  a,  nucleus; 
b,  wall  ot  tho  central  capsule ;  c,  yellow  cells ;  d,  perforateil  area  of  the 
central  c.ipe>ilc  (.Monopylioa).  2.  Ci/ndViiim  intrm^,  Hertwlg  ;  one  of  tho 
Monnpyiaea.  IJvlnR  anlmaL  Ad  example  ot  a  Wonopyiicon  ilcstitute  of 
•kekton.  a,  nucleus ;  6,  capanlc-w.-iU  ;  c,  yellow  cells  In  the  cxtracnpsuhir 
protopl.Tsui.  S.  itarpncmrium  diadatmi  UaerM. ;  optio:il  section  of  tho  bco- 
hlveahnpo.1  shell  to  show  tho  form  and  position  of  the  prntopl.'wmic  hoily. 
a,  the  tri'lobod  nucleus ;  b,  the  siliceous  shell ;  e,  oli-glohulcs ;  (/,  the  per- 
forate area  (pore-iilatc)  ot  the  fX'utral  capsule.  ■!.  Ctytodmulrutn 
gramUiininn^  JLieelc.;  livin^aniniat,  complete  ;  one  of  the  Trlpyltea,  a,  tho 
characteristic  dark  pl-..'niunt(ptiico<litim)  surrouncting  the  central  capsule  b. 
The  peculiar  branchid  siliceous  skeleton,  ronsistliiu  of  luillow  flbres,  nncj 
the  expaatled  pseudopodia  are  seen.  6.  ('eutrni  capHUle  of  one  of  tho 
Tpipyl«a,  Isolated,  showing  a,  tlic  niK-Iout> ;  ^.c.  the  inner  end  the  ouUt 
laminiB  of  tho  capsxile-waJl ;  d,  tho  liiief  or  p*ihir  appiiurc;  r,r,  the  two 
Becondary  apertures.  Q^T.  Ara-nthotn^rftCUtf^frrfl^i.  H-u-ck.  7  shows 
the  nnimul  in  optical  snctlou,  so  aa  to  i^vhihlt  th-  'i  i  ic  meeting  of 
the  spines  at  the  contr.U  imint  aa  in  lUX  .\eui<  .  r, shnwi  the 
tranattioQ  from  tlie  tniiuuclear  to  (he  muli:  ..iinn  I>y  the 
breaking  up  of  tho  larRo  nuclonn.  a,  pnioll  ntn  i.i .  /-,  i;m  ■  >  i '  -r.v  v.t'.  of 
the  single  nucleus;  c,  wall  of  tho  contnl  cnpsule;  ti,  extr.ii'  ,  '-  ■■  -'Uy 
(not  protoplu^m);  c,  peculiar  Intracapsidar  ynllow  eells.  •,  "  /-i- 
ep/iBcni  utreptceantha,  llaock: ;  ono  i>f  the  reripylwa*  t>ill' .;(.;; .  '.k.  1.  ion 
Dot  fjui(e  couiplotely  ilrnwn  on  the  ilyJit  ^ido.  rt,  the  Hi>hertcnl  cxtri- 
capsular  shell  (cnmpire  Fig.  XIV.  17),  supporting  very  large  nidlal  spines 
widch  are  conneet*!d  by  a  spongy  nctworic  of  siliceous  flbl*os.  0. 
AuUtiphmra  elnjanliinima,  Ilaecic  i  one  ot  tho  rhmodaria.  Half  of  tb» 
vplicrical  alllceoUB  nkelotoa. 


capsule  has  a  donble  membrane  and  more  than  one  perforate  area, 
viz.,  one  chief  "polar  aperture,"  and  one,  two,  or  more  acceesoij 
apertures  (Fig,  XVX.  5).  The  nucleus  is  single.  Aroitnd  th* 
central  capsule  is  an  abundant  dirk  brown  pi;,'meut  (phseodiom  of 
Haeckel).  The  siliceous  skeleton  e.xhibits  various  sliapes  regular 
and  irrefjular,  but  is  often  remarkable  for  the  fact  that  it  isliuilt 
up  of  hollow  tubes. 

Fam.  1.  Pii£OCYSTiDA,  Haeck.  The  siliceous  skeleton  is  either 
entirely  absent  or  consists  of  hollow  needles  which  are  disposed 
outside  the  central  capsule,  regularly  or  irregularly. 

Genera  (selected).  — A  utacantlui,  llaeck. ;  Tludassoplatida,  Haeck. 

Fam.  2.  Pb.eookomida,  Hoeek.  The  siliceous  skeleton  consist* 
of  a  single  fenestrated  shell,  which  m.iy  be  spherical,  oroid,  or  often 
dipleuric,  but  always  has  one  or  more  large  openings. 

Genera  (selected). — ChaUcngaria,  Wy.  Thomson  ;  Lilhogromia, 
Haeck. 

Fam.  3.  Ph^eosphjerida.  The  siliceous  skeleton  consists  of 
numerous  hollow  tubes  which  are  united  in  a  peculiar  way  to  form 
a  large  spherical  or  polyhedral  basket-work. 

Genera  (selected). — Aulosphssra,  Haeck.  (Fig.  XVI.  9);  Aul<h 
plcgma,  Haeck. ;  CannxuMrUha,  Haeck. 

Fam.  4.  PH.ffiocoNCHiDA.  The  siliceous  skeleton  consists  of  two 
separate  fenestrated  valves,  similar  to  a  mussel's  shells ;  often  there 
are  attached  to  the  valves  simple  or  branched  hollow  tubes  of  silex. 

Genera  (selected). — Oonchidium,  Haeck.  •  Cielodendrum,  Haeck. 
(Fig.  XVI.  i). 

Sub-class  II.  Acanthometridea,  Lankester  {  =  Acanlhino-$l:dda). 

Characters. — Radiolaria  in  which  the  skeleton  is  composed  of  a 
peculiar  homy .  substance  known  as  acanthin  (rarely  of  silica). 
The  central  capsule  is  uniformly  perforate  (Peripylsea  type).  A 
divided  or  multiple  nucleus  is  present  in  the  capsule  ;  the  capsule- 
wall  is  single.  The  skeleton  aJways  has  the  form  of  spines  wliich 
radiate  from  a  central-  point  within  the  capsule  where  they  are  all 
fitted  to  one  another.  Karely  a  fenestrated  tangential  skeleton  is 
ilso  formed. 

Fam.  I.  Acanthonida,  Haeck.  Skeleton-  consisting  of  twenty 
spines  of  acanthin  disposed  in  five  parallel  zones  of  four  spines  each, 
meeting  one  another  at  the  central  point  of  the  organism  ;  never 
forming  a  fenestrated  shell. 

Genera  (selected). — Acanihxmufra,  J.  Miiller  (Fig.  XVI.  6,  7)  | 
Aslrolonche,  Haeck.-;  Ampliilonche,  Hoeck.  (Fig.  XIV.  IS). 

Fam.  2.  Diploconida,  Haeck.     Skeleton  a  double  cone. 

Genus  unieum. — Diploco7ius,  Haeck. 

Fam.-  3.  Dorataspida,  Haeck.  The  twenty  acanthin  spines  of 
the  skeleton  form  bv  transverse  outgrowths  a  spherical  fenestrated 
shell. 

Genera  (selected).  — Stauraspis,  Haeck. ;  Soralaspis,  Haeck. 

Fam.  4.  Spb.«kocapsida,  Haeck.  The  twenty  acanthin  spinet 
are  joined  together  at  their  free  apices  by  a  simple  perforate  shell 
of  acanthin. 

Genus  unieum. — Sph^erocapsa. 

Fam.  5.  LiTHoi/Oi'HiDA.  Skeleton  cf  many  needles  of  acanthio 
radiating  from  a  single  point  without  definite  number  or  order. 

Genera.  — Lilholoj^us,  Haeck.  ;  Aslrolopkus,  Haeck. 

FurOier  rernarka  cni  the  Itadiolarici.  — It  has  not  been  possible  in 
the  systematic. summary  above  given  to  enumerate  the  immense 
number  of  genera  which  have  been  distinguished  by  Haeckel  (42)  as 
tho  result  of  the  study  of  the  skeletons  of  this  group.  The  important 
differences  in  tho  structure  of  tho  central  capsule  of  different  Endio- 
laria  were  first  shown  by  Hertwig,  who  also  discovered  that  the  spines 
of  the  Acanthometridea  consist  not  of  silica  but  of  an  organic  com- 
pound.. In  view  of  this  latter  fact  and  of  tho  peculiar  numerical 
and  architectural  features  of  the  Acanthometrid  skeleton,  it  seems 
proper  to  separate  them  altogetfierfrom  the  other  Radiolaria.  Tie 
Pcripyliea  may  be  regarded  as  the  starling  point  of  the  Radiolai  ian 
pedijjree,  and  have  given  rise  on  the  one  hand  to  tho  Acantho- 
metridea, which  retain  the  archaic  structure  cf  tho  central  oafisule 
whilst,  developing  a  peculiar  skeleton,  and  on  the  other  hand  to 
the  Monopylica  and  Phieodaria  which  have  modified  tho  cansult 
but  retained  the  siliceous  skuliHon. 


PhKodorla. 


PBilpyli 


Uonopyliea. 


AcantliainetrMai. 


Arclil-perlpylipa. 

RADIOUkni.4. 


The  occasional  tottu  abs«ncn  of  any  silieeoas  or  acanthinciM 
skeleton  does  not  njipcar  to  lie  a  m-itterof  chissilicatory  iinpurtan-n 
sine*  skeletal  elements  occur  'd  close  lUi' j  of  tbnsn  vt>rv  >cw  futni* 


852 


PEOTOZOa 


[R.VDIOI.A.SIA. 


which  are  totally  devoid  of  skeleton.  Similarly  it  does  not  appear 
to  be  a  matter  of  great  significance  that  some  forms  (Polycytlaria) 
form  colonies,  instead  of  the  central  capsules  separating  from  one 
another  after  fission  has  occurred. 

It  is  important  to  note  that  the  skeleton  of  silex  or  acanthin 
does  not  correspond  to  the  shell  of  other  Gymnomyxa,  which 
appears  rather  to  be  represented  by  the  membranous  central  cap- 
sule The  skeleton  does,  however,  appear  to  correspond  to  the 
spicules  of  Heliozoa,  and  there  is  an  undeniable  affinity  between 
such  a  form  .is  Clathrulina  (Fig.  Vll.  2)  and  the  Spharid  Pcnpylsa 
(subh  as  Heliosphtera,  Fig.  XIV.  14).  .  The Radiolaria are, however, 
a  very  strongly  marked  group,  deBnitely  separated  from  all  other 
Gymnomyxa  by  the  membranous  central  capsule  sunkin  their  proto- 
plasm. Their  differences  inter  se  do  not  artect  their  essential  struc- 
ture. The  variations  in  the  chemical  composition  of  the  skeleton  and 
in  the  perforation  of  the  capsule  do  not  appear  superficially.  The 
most  obvious  features  in  which  they  differ  from  one  another  relate  to 
tho  form  and  complexity  of  the  skeleton,  a  part  of  the  organism  so 
little  characteristic  of  tlie  grou{)  that  it  may  be  wanting  aUogethei\ 
It  is  not  known  how  far  the  form-species  and  form-genera  which 
have  been  distinguished  in  such  profusion  by  Haeckel  as  the 
result  of  a  study  of  the  skeletons  are  permanent  {i.e.,  relatively 
permanent)  physiological  species.  There-  is  no  doubt  that  very 
many  are  local  and  conditional  varieties  of  a  single  Protean  species. 
The  same  remark  applies  to  the  species  discriminated  among  the 
shell-bearing  Reticularia.  It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that 
less  importance  is  to  be  attached  to  the  distinguishiug  and  record- 
ing of  such  forms  because  we  are  not  able  to  assert  that  they  are. 
permanent  species.  . 

The  ydloio  cells  (of  spherical  form,  -005  to  0-15  of  a  millimetre 
in  diameter)  which  occur  very  generally  scattered  in  the  extra- 
capsular protoplasm  of  Radiolaria  were  at  one  time  regarded  as 
essential  components  of  the  Radiolarian  body.  Their  parasitic 
nature  is  now  rendered  probable  by  the  observations  of  Cien- 
Uowski  (43),  Brandt  (44),  and  Geddes  (45),  who  have  established 
that  each  cell  has  a  cellulose  wall  and  a  nucleus  (Fig.  XIV.  6  to  13), 
that  the  protoplasm  U  impregnated  by  chlorophyll  which,  as  in 
Diatoms,  is  obscured  by  the  yellow  pigment,  and  that  >.  starch- 
like substance  is  present  (giving  the  violet  reaction  with  iodine). 
Further,  Cienkowski  showed,  not  only  that  the  yellow  cells  multiply 
by  fission  during  the  life  of  the  Radiolarian,  but  that  when  isolated 
they  continue  to  live;  the  cellulose  envelope  becomes  softened; 
the  protoplasm  exhibits  amceboid  movements  and  escapes  from  the 
envelope  altogether  (Fig.  XIV.  13)  and  multiplies  by  fission. 
Brandt  has  given  the  name  Zooxanthdla  nutricola  to  the  parasitic 
unicellular  Alga  thus  indicated.  He  and  Geddes  have  shown  that  a 
similar  organism  infests  the  endoderm  cells  of  Anthozoa  and  of 
gome  Siphonophora  in  enormous  quantities,  and  the  former  has  been 
led,  it  seems  erroneously,  to  regard  the  chlorophyll  corpuscles  of 
Hydra  viridk,  Spongilla,  and  Ciliata  as  also  parasitic  Alga?,  lor 
which  he  has  coined  the  name  Zoochlorella.  The  same  arguments 
which  Brandt  has  used  to  justify  this  view  as  to  animal  chlorophyll 
would  warrant  the  creation  of  a  genus  "  Phytochlorella  for  the 
hypothetical  Alga  which  -  has  hitherto  been  described  as  the 
"chlorophyll  corpuscles"  of  the  cells  of  ordinary  green  plants. 

Zooxanthclla  nutHcola  does  not,  for  some  unknown  reason,  infest, 
the  Acanthometridea,  and  it  is  by  no  means  so  universally  present 
in  the  bodies  of  the  fiilico-skeleta  as  was  supposed  before  its 
parasitic  nature  was  recognized. 

The  streaming  of  the  granules  of  the  protoplasm  has  been  observed 
in  the  pseudopodia  of  Radiolaria  as  in  those  of  Heliozoa  and 
Reticularia  ;  it  has  also  been  seen  in  the  deeper  protoplasm  ;  and 
granules  have  been  definitely  seen  to  pass  through  the  pores  of  the 
central  capsule  from  the  intracapsular  to  the  extracapsular  pro- 
toplasm. A  feeble  vibrating'  movement  of  the  pseudopodia  has 
been  occasionally  noticed.  j       i      • 

The  production  of  swarm-spores  has  been  observed  only  in 
Acanthometra  and  in  the  Polycyttaria  and  Thalassicollids,  and 
only  in  the  two  latter  groups  have  any  detailed  observations  bien 
made  Two  distinct  processes  of  swarm-spore  production  liaye 
been  observed  by  Cienkowski  (43),  confirmed  by  Hertwig  (46)_dis- 
tineuished  by  the  character  of  the  resulting  spores  which  are 
calfed  "crystalligerous"  (Fig.  XIV.  15)  in  the  one  case,  and  di- 
morphous" in  tlie  other  (Fig.  XIV.  16).  In  both  processes  the 
nucleated  protoplasm  within  the  central  capsule  breaks  up  by  a 
more  or  less  regular  cell-division  into  small  pieces,  the  details  of 
the  process  differing  a  little  in  the  two  cases.  In  those  individuals 
which  produce  crystalligerous  swarm-spores,  each  spore  encloses  a 
email  crystal  (Fig.  XIV.  15).  On  the  other  hand  in  those  indi- 
viduals which  produce  dimorphous  swarm-spores,  the  contents  ot 
the  capsule  (which  in  both  instances  are  set  free  by  its  natural 
rupture)  are  seen  to  consist  of  individuals  of  two  sizes  ,  macro- 
snores"  and  "microspores,''  neither  of  which  contain  crystals 
(Fie  XIV  16).  The  further  development  of  the  spores  has  not 
beS'  observed  in  either  case.  Both  processes  have  been  observed 
in  the  same  species,  and  it  is  suggested  that  there  is  an  alternation 
of   soxasl    and    asexual    generations,   the   crystalligerous  spotea 


developing  directly  into  adults,  whicli  in  their  turn  produce  is 
their  central  capsules  dimorphous  swarm-spores  (niacrospores  an-i 
microspores),  »  hich  iu  a  manner  analogous  to  that  observed  in  tht 
Yoivocineaii  Fljgellata  copulate  (permanently  fuse)  with  oui 
another  (the  larger  with  the  smaller)  before  proceeding  to  develop. 
The  adults  resulting  from  this  process  would,  it  is  suggested,  jiio- 
duce  in  their  turn  crystalligerous  sworin-spores.  Unfortunately 
we  have  no  observations  to  support  tliis  hypothetical  scheme  of  n 
life-history.  . 

Fusion  or  conjugation  of  adult  Radiolaria,  whether  preliminary 
to  swarm-spore-)iroduction  or  independently  of  it,  has  not  been 
observed— this  affording  a  distinction  between  them  and  Heliozoa 
and  an  agreement   though  of  a  negative  character,  with  the  Reticu 

laria.  j.  ., 

Simple  fission  of  the  central  capsule  of  adult  individuals  and 
subsequently  of  the  whole  protoplasmic  mass  has  been  observed  in 
several  instances,  and  is  probably  a  general  method  of  reproductioc 
in  the  group.  ^ 

The  siliceous  shells  of  the  Radiolaria  are  found  abundantly  in 
certain  rocks.  They  furnish,  together  with  Diatoms  and  Sponge- 
spicules,  the  silica  which  has  been  segregated  as  flint  in  the  Chalk 
formation.  They  are  present  in  quantity  (as  much  as  10  per  cent.) 
in  the  Atlantic  ooze,  and  in  the  celebrated  "Barbados  earth"  <a 
Tertiary  deposit)  are  the  chief  components. 

Grade  B.  CORTICATA,  Lankester,  1878  (64). 
Characters.— Vjotoioa  iu  which  the  protoplasm  of  the  cell-body, 
in  its  adult  condition,  is  permanently  dilferentiated  into  two  layers, 
an  outer  denser  cortical  substance  and  an  inner  more  fluid  medul- 
lary substance  (not  to  be  confused  with  the  merely  temporary 
distinction  of  exonlasm  and  endoplasm  sometimes  noted  in 
Gymnomyxa,  which" is  not  structural  but  due  to  the  gravitation  and 
self-attraction  of  the  coarser  granules  often  embedded  in  the 
uniformly  fluid  protoplasm).  .      ,     ^ 

Since  the  Corticata  have  developed  from   simple   Gymnomyxa 
exhibiting  both  amoeboid  and  flagellate  phases  of  form  and  activity, 
it  results  (1)  that  the  forms  of  the  body  of  many  Corticata  are 
traceable  to  modifications  of  these  primitive  forms;  (2)  that  the 
young  stages  of  the  Corticata  are  in  the  lower  classes  of  that  group 
typical  fla.'ellulie  or  amojbula; ;   and  (3)    that  there  are   certain 
archaic  forms  included  in  those  lower  classes  whose  position  there 
is  doubtful,  and  which  n.ight  be  with  almost  equal  propriety  assigned 
to  the  Gymnomyxa,  since  they  are  transitional  from  that  lower  grade 
to  the  higher  grade  of  Corticata. 
Class  I.  SPOEOZOA,  Leuckart  (47) ;  Syn.  Gregarinida,  Auct. 
CAara-^frs.  — CorticaU  parasitic  iu  almost  all  classes  and  orders  of 
animals    imbibing  nutriment  from  the  diffusible  albuminoids  of 
their  hcsts  and   therefore   mouthless.     In  typical   cases   there  is 
hatched  from  a  chlamydosporo  one  or  more  modified  nucleate  or 
non-nucleate    flagellula;    (falciform    young,    drepanidium    phase) 
The   flagellula   increases   iu  size  and    differentiates  cortical    ami 
medullary  substance.     Fission  is  common  in  the  younger  stages  oi 
growth.     The  movements  now  become  neither  vibratile  nor  amtE- 
bold  but  definitely  resti-ained,  and  are  best  described  as  "eugle- 
noid"  (cf   Flagellata,  Fig.   XX.  27,  28).     The  nucleus  is  single, 
large,  and  spherical.    No  contractile  vacuole  and  rarely  any  vacuole 
is  present.      A  size  of  T:Vth  inch  may  be  attained  in  this  phage, 
which  may  be  definitely  spoken  of  as  the  cuglena  phase   corre- 
sponding to  the  amaba  phase  of  Gymnomyxa.     It  is  usually  ot 
oblong  form,  with  sac-like  contractile  wall  of  cortical  substance, 
but  may  be  spherical  (Coccidiidea)  or  even  aniffiboid  (Myxosporidia). 
Coniu-'ation,  followed  directly  or  after  an  interval  by  sporulaticn, 
may  now  ensue.    The  conjugated  individuals  (two),  or  sometimes  a 
single  individual,  become  encysted.     The  contents  of  the  cyste  now 
raptdlv  divide  (by  a  process  the  detailiv-of  which  are  unknown)  int^ 
minute    ovoid  nucleated  (?)  bodies;   sometimes  a  portion  of  the 
protoplasm  is  not  converted  into  spores  but  may  form  sporoducts 
{<•/•.    capillitium   of  Mycetozoa).       Each   inece  acquires  a  special 
chitin-like  colourless  coat,  and  U  then  a  ehlamydospore.     Rarely 
one  spore  only  is  formed  from  the  whole  contents  of  a  cyst     The 
spore-coat  is  usually  thick,  and  remarkable  for  processes  and  other 
accessory  developments.     The  included  protoplasm-rf  the  ehlamydo- 
spore frequently  divides  into  several  pieces  before  hatching.     These 
usually,  when  set  free  from  the  spore-coat,  have  the  form  ol  modified 
nucleated  fiagelluls,  i.e.,  flagellula?  in  which  the  protoplasm  is  not 
drawn  out  into  a  thread-like  flagellum  but  exhibits  an  elongate  form, 
uniformly  endowed  ^vith  vibratile  activity.'    With  few  (if  any)  excep- 
tions,  the  falciform  young  thus  characterized  penetrates  a  cell  of  some 
tissiie  of  its  host  and  there  undergoes  the  first  stages  of  its  growth 
(hence  called  Cytozoa).     In  some  foi-ms  the  pre-cystic  phase  never 
escapes  from  its  cell  host.     In  other  cases  it  remains  connected  wita 
the  hospitable  cell  long  after  it  has  by  growth  exceeded  by  many 
hundred  times  the  bulk  of  its  quondam  entertainer;  often  it  loses 
aU  connexion  with  iU  cell  host  and  is  earned  away  to  Some  other 
part  of  the  infested  animal  before  compleUDK  Us  grojth  ana 
encysting. 


WOUOZOA.] 


PROTOZOA 


853 


The  Sporozon  are  divided  iuto  four  sub-classes,  differing  trom  one 
another  accordiiii;  to  the  form  and  development  attained  by  the 
euf  lena  [ihase.  We  shall  place  the  most  highly  developed  Si-st,  not 
onTy  bei-ause  our  knowledge  about  it  is  most  complete,  but  because 
it  ia  possible  that  one  at  least  of  th«  other  sub-classes  is  derived  by 
degeneration  from  it- 

SuB- CLASS  I.  Gregarinidea,  BUtsclili  (9). 

Charoiiers.—Siiorozoa.  in  which  the  euglena  phase  is  domiuant, 
being  relatively  of  lar-go  size,  elongate  in  form,  definitely  shaped, 
having  contractile  but  not  viscid  cortex,  and  exhibiting  often  active 
nutritional  and  locomotor  phenomena.  Though  usually  if  not 
iuvariably  cell-parasites  in  early  youth,  they  become  free  before 
attaining  adult  growth,  and  inhabit  either  the  body-cavity  or  the 
intestine  of  their  hosts.  Mauy  spores  are  produced  in  the  encysted 
phase.  The  spores  have  an  oblong,  sometimes  caudate  coat,  and 
produce  each  one  or  several  falciform  young.  At  present  only 
tuowii  as  parasites  of  Invertebrata. 

i  ^\    2 


)rta.  XVII.— Sporozoa.  1,2.  ^fonoei/id'iia^Hii,  stem; «x 260;  from  tho  tc8tl« 
o(  the  I'larthwonn.  Two  phases  of  inovcniont — a  rlng-liko  contraction 
posslnjcaloiiK  tho  hody  from  one  enil  to  Ihe  other.  3.  Inrllvlilii.il  of  tho 

same  spectoa  which  has  penetrated  in  the  younn  Btano  a  sperm-cell  of  tlio 
Earthworm,  and  is  now  clothed  as  it  were  Willi  speriiiHtol)lnBlji.  4. 

Monocystii  magna.  A.  Schmidt,  from  the  testis  of  tho  Karthwunii  'L.  tcrrct- 


trit  L.)  Two  Individuals,  which  are  implanted  l>y  ano  eitremlty  at  b  in 
two  epithelial  cells  of  the  rosette  of  tlie  spermatic  due*,  a,  nucleus  of  trio 
Monocystis.  5.    Tailed    chlamydospores   of  Moiiocuttit   sfnuridui, 

Koll  0   Two  il.  aijUis  encysted,  spores  forming  on  the  surface  of  the 

protoplasm.  7.  A  similar  cyst  further  advanced  in  spoic-torniation  (see 

Fi".  .XVIII.).  8.  Spore  of  .'/.  aj/i/is.  now  elongated  but  still  naked, 

o  nucleus,     x  HOG.  9.  The  spore  has  now  encased  itself  in  a  uoviculaj 

shaped  coat.    a.  nucleus.  10.  The  spore  protoplasm  has  now  diilded 

iuto  several  falciform  swarm.spores,  leaving  a  portion  of  the  pr^'toplasui 
unused,  b,  Schneider's  residual  core.  11.  Optical  transverse  section  of 
a  completed  spore,  b,  Schneider's  residual  cote.  1'2.  ChlaniyJospoi-e 

of  Klonsia  chilonis,  pov.  sp.,  from  the  liver  of  Chiton  (original.)  la, 

14.  Chlamydospore  of  Jlonocijutis  ucmerlis,  Koll.,  liberating  _  falcifoi-m 
young.     6,  Schneider's  residue.  15.  lHoitocystin  pellucida,  Koll.  (from 

Nereis) ;  x  130;  to  show  the  very  thiok  cortical  Bubstanco  and  its  Ultrilla 
tlon  (after  LanlieBter,  64).  Mi.  Munocj/stis  tximridii,  Koll.,  two  iudivi. 

duals  adhering  to  one  another  (a  syzygium).  For  siiores  see  6.  17.  Jfoiio- 
ctislid  aphroiUIr,  Lankester  (55);  x  60;  remarkable  among  Monocystids 
for  its  long  proboscis  resembling  the  epimeritc  of  some  Septata.  18. 

Klossia  helicina,  Aim.  Schn.,  from  the  kidney  of  Htlix  hortemia.  A  singla 
cell  of  the  renal  epithelium  in  which  a  full-grown  Klossia  is  embedded, 
a,  nucleus  of  tho  Klossia;  a\  nucleus  of  the  renal  cell.  19.  Cyst  of 

Klossia  helicina,  the  contents  brolten  up  into  sphencal  chlamydo- 
spores. 20.  Single  spore  from  the  last,  showing  falciform  young  and  « 
Schneider's  residue  b.  21.  The  contents  of  the  same  spore.  ii.  A  small 
renal  cell  of  Helix  containing  two  of  the  youngest  stage  of  Klossia.  23. 
Monocystis  sanillata,  Leuck.,  from  the  intestine  of  Cai'ttella  capitata; 
X  100.  24to31.  Coccirfiitmooi/br/nf,Leuek.,fromtheliverottlieRaljbif. 
—24,  adult  individual  encysted ;  '25,  the  protoplasm  ccintiact«il— «, 
nucleus  ;  26,  27,  division  into  four  spores,  as  yet  naked ;  21?,  '29,  tho  spores 
haveacquiredacovering,  i.e.,  nrechlaniydospores,  and  each  contains  a  BinglB 
falciform  young;  30,  31,  two  views  of  a  chlamydospore  more  highly  magiil- 
fled  so  as  to  show  the  single  falciform  young  (from  Leuckart).  32.  h  louia 
octopiana,  Aim.  Schn.,  trom  Cephalopoda,  a,  nucleus;  b,  tyst-niemlirane. 
X  200  diam.  33.  Single  spherical  spore  of  the  same ;  x  1400  Uinm  : 
showing  numerous  falciform  young,  and  b,  Sclineidei's  residue.  84. 
Muzidium  LiebcrlmhMi,  Butschli,  one  of  the  My.\osporidia,  from  tlie 
bladder  of  the  Pike  (Eso.x);  creeping  euglena  ph.i.se,  showing  strongly 
lohed  amoeboid  character  (pseudopodia  and  undifTerenliuted  (»)  coitex) ; 
X  00  diam.  35-39.  Eimeria  falciformis,  Eimer  sp.,  from  the  Mouse  :— 
35,  an  adult  non-encysted  individual  inhabiting  an  epithelial  cell  of  the 
intestine  of  the  mouse ;  36,  encyste<l  pliase ;  37,  clear  corpuscles  aiipcir 
in  the  encysted  protoplasm;  38,  the  protoplasm  now  forms  a  singlo 
spore  containing  several  falciform  young;  b,  Schneider's  residue ;  39, 
isolated  spore  showing  falciform  young,  and  b,  Schneiders  residue. 
40.  Chlamydospore  of  Miixobohis  ilulleri,  Butschli,  one  of  tlie  .Alyxo- 
sporidia  from  the  gills  of  Cyprinoid  Fishes,  a,  nucleus;  4,  retniigeiit 
corpuscle;  c,  polar  body  or  thread-capsule.  41.  A  similar  chlamydo- 
spore which  has  ejected  the  filaments  from  its  thread  capsules.  42. 
Chlamydospore  of  a  Mysosporidium  infesting  the  kidney  of  Lola  riifjarw. 
c,  polar  body  (psorosperm  of  authors).  43,  44.  Clilaniydospores  fit 
a  Myxosporidium  from  the  gills  of  Perca  (psorosperm  of  aullioi-s). 
Compare  with  the  tailed  chlamydospore  of  Moiwcyslis  sxnuridis,  6.  45 
-17.  Drepanidium  rananim,  Lankester,  tlie  falciform  young  of  on 
unascertained  Coccidiide  infesting  the  Frog  (supposed  by  Oaulc  to  be  pro- 
duced by  tho  blood  corpuscles):— 45,  specimen  stained  by  iodine;  40,  red- 
blood  corpuscle  of  Frog,  showing  ft,  two  contained  Drepanidia,  and  o,  the 
nucleus  of  the  blood  conmsde  ;  47,  living  Drepanidium.  48,  Chlamy- 
dospore of  Lieberkuhn's  Coccidium  of  the  Frog's  kidney,  perhaps  belong- 
ing to  the  life-cycle  of  Drepanidium  ranarnm.  The  spore  contains 
two  falciform  young  (Drepanidia!)  and  a  Schneider's  resuliie.  49, 
Chlamydospore  of  Monocyslis  Ihalassemx,  Lankester,  containing  nume- 
rous falciform  young.  60,  51.  Sarcacystu  llieschrn,  Lankester:— 60, 
falciform  yaiimg  escaped  from  chlamydosporca  ;  61,  adult  eugleua  phasa 
inhabiting  a  striated  muscle  fibre  of  tho  Pig. 

Okdee  1.  HAPLOCYTA,  Lankester. 

(7/mracfers.— Gregarinidea  in  which  there  is  Jiever  at  any  time  a 
pirtition  of  tho  medullary  substance  into  two  or  more  chambcis. 
The  euglenoid  is  always  a  single  contractiio  sac  with  oiio  mass  c' 
medullary  substance  id  which  floats  tho  large  vesicular  ti'ansnaicut 
nucleus.  Spores  larger  than  in  the  next  group,  each  producing 
several  falcifiirin  young. 

Genus  nnicum.—Monocyslh,  Stein,  ]8-)8.  Tho  various  generic 
Bubdtvisious  proposed  by  Aim.  Schneider  (48),  and  accepted  by 
Biitschli,  appear  to  tho  present^writer  to  have  insuflicient  characteis, 
and  serve  to  comjilicate  rather  than  to  organize  our  knowledge  of 
the  subject.  We  do  not  yet  know  enough  of  tho  sporulation  and 
subsequent  development  of  tho  various  nionocystic  (Jregarinidcs  to 
justify  the  erection  of  distinct  gonera. 

ilonoajstis  ac/itis,  Slein,  Fig.  XVII.  1,  2,  3,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11, 
and  Fig.  XVI II.  is  tho  type.  The  other  species  of  Jlonocystis 
occur  cliiefly  (and  very  commonly)  in  marine  Annelids,  Tlatyhel- 
minthes,  Gephyrren,  and  Tunicata  ;  not  in  Arthropoda,  Mollusca, 
nor  Vertebrata.  Tho  only  definite  ditl'ercnccs  which  they  present 
of  possibly  more  than  suocilic  worth,  as  compared  with  M.  agtlis, 
are  in  tho  form  of  tho  chlamydospores,  which  ate  sometimes  tailed, 
as  in  M.  sienuridis  (Fig.  X\  [I.  6),  and  in  if.  mmerlis  (Fig.  XVII. 
13)  and  M.  sipwuuli,  and  furlher  also  certain  dilfcrcnccs  in  tlio 
general  form,  as  for  in.stance  tho  onchor-liko  If.  siigiltitia  (Kig. 
XV'II.  23),  and  the  ]>rol>oscidiforou5  jV.  n;iAroc/i(j«  (Fig.  XVII.  17). 
Tho  fine  parallel  striation  of  thu  culiculo  in  s^lio  siiccies  (.V. 
Bcrindm,  &c.)  might  also  bo  mado  tho  basis  of  a  goiiciic  or  sub. 
generic  group. 

On  the  whole  it  seems  best  to  leave  nil  tho  species  for  tlio  present 
in  the  one  genus  Monocystis,  pending  further  knowledge.  It  seems 
probable  that  more  than  one  species  (at  least  two,  M.  aijilia  and  .V. 
viagna)  infest  the  common  Earthworm. 

Obdku  2.  SfTTATA,  Unkcstcr. 

CAarfK^rj.— Gregarinidea  in  which  in  tho  adult  tho  mcdulliry 
substance  is  separated  into  two  chambers— a  smaller  anterior  (the 


854 


PROTOZOA 


protomerito)  and  a  larger  posterior  (the  deatoraerite),  in  which  li£3 
the  nucleus.  There  is  frequently  if  not  always  present,  either  in 
early  growth  or  more  persistently,  an  anterior  proboscis-like  appen- 
dage (the  epimorite)  growing  from  the  protomerite.  The  epimerite 
serves  to  attach  the  parasite  to  its  host,  and  may  for  that  purpose 
carry  hooklets.  It  is  always  shed  sooner  or  later.  The  phase  in 
which  it  is  present  is  called  a  "cephalont,"  the  phase  after  it  has 
broken  off  a  "sporont"  (see  Fig.  XIX.  22,  23).  The  spores  are 
emaller  than  in  the  preceding  group,  often  very  minute,  and  some- 
times the  cyst  is  complicated  by  the  formation  of  sporoducts,  and 
by  a  kind  of  "capiUitium"  of  residual  protoplasm  (Fig.  XIX.  2). 
Spores  producing  each  only  a  single  (?)  falciform  young. 

Geneva.— Gregarina,  Dufour  ;  Hoplorhynchus,  "Von  Carus. 

[The  numerous  genera  which  have  been  proposed  at  different 
times  by  Hammerschmidt  and  others,  and  more  recently  by  Aime 
Schneider,  apnear  to  the  present  writer  to  be  unserviceable,  owing 
to  the  fact  that  our  knowledge  is  as  yet  very  incomplete.  A 
good  basis  for  generic  or  family  distinctions  might  probably  be 
found  in  the  greater  or  less  elaboration  of  the  cyst  and  the  forma- 
tion or  not  of  sporoducts.  But  of  the  majority  of  Septata  we  do 
not  know  the  cysts  or  the  history  of  sporulation  ;  we  merely  know 
that  some  have  simple  cysts  with  complete  sporulation  leaving  no 
residue  of  protoplasm,  and  that  others  form  cysts  witii  double  walls 
and  elaborate  tubular  ducts,  whilst  a  part  of  the  protoplasm  is  not 
sporulated  but  forms  a  capiUitium  (Fig.  XIX.  2). 

Another  possible  basis  for  generic  division  of  the  Septata  may 
be  found  in  the  characters  of  the  epimerite.  This  may  be  present 
or  absent  altogether.  It  may  exist  only  in  the  young  condition  or 
persist  uutil  growth  is  completed.  It  may  be  >  simple,  short, 
elongate,  or  provided  with  hooklets.  The  presence  of  hooklets  on 
the  epimerite  is  the  only  character  which  at  present  seems  to  serve 
conveniently  for  generic  distinction.  With  regard  to  the  other 
jioints  mentioned  we  are  not  sufficiently  informed,  since  we  know 
the  complete  history  of  development  from  the  young  form  set  free 
from  the  spore  in  only  one  or  two  cases.  ] 

The  Septata  are  found  exclusively  in  the  alimentary  canals  of 
Arthropoda  (Insects,  My riapods,  Crustacea,  not  Arachnida).  _..  See 
Jig.  XIX.  for  various  examples  of  the  group. 


ITO.  AViii. — Cyst  of  iloiu>eysli3  agitis',  the  common  Oregarinide  of  the 
Kartliworm ;  X  750  diara. ;  showing  ripe  chlamydospores  and  complete 
absence  ol  any  residual  protoplasm  or  other  material  in  the  cyst 
(original).  ..    .    ,, 

;  Sub-class  II.  Oocoidudea,  Biitachli  (9). 

Sporozoa"in  which  the  euglena  phase  remains  of  relatively 
minute  size,  of  spherical  shape  and  simple  <gg-ceU -like  structure. 
It  is  not  locomotive,  but  continnes,  until  the  cyst  is  formed,  to 
inhabit  a  single  cell'of  the  host.  Many,  few,  or  one  single  chlamy- 
dospore  are  formed  in  the  cyst.  One  or  more  falciform  young 
escape  from  each  spore,  and  exhibit  active  movements  (flagellula- 
like)  leading  to  a  penetration  of  a  tissue-cell  by  the  young  Jorm  as 
in  Gregarinidea.     Many  are  parasites  of  Vertebrata. 

Order  1.  MOKOSPOEEA,  Aim.  Schn. 

Characlers. — The  Whole  content  of  the  cyst  forms  but  s  single 
spore. 

Genus  unicnm. — Eimeria  (in  the  intestinal  epithelium  of  Triton, 
Prog,  Sparrow,  Mouse,  and  the  Myriapods  Lithobiua  and  GLiiaeris, 
f  ia.  XV IL  35  to  39j. 


no.  XIX.— Sporozoa  (Septata).  1.  Gregai^a  btattamm,  Siebold,  from 
the  intestine  of  Btaita  orientatis  ;  X  80.  A  syzygium  of  two  indiyiduwla. 
Each  animal  cousisls  of  a  small  anterior  chamljer,  the  protomerite,  and  » 
large  posterior  chamber,  the  deutomerite,  in  whicli  is  the  nucleus  a.  2- 
Over-ripe  cyst  of  Oregarij^  blattarum^  with  thick  gelatinous  envelop*"  e 
and  projecting  sporoducts  d.  The  spores  have  been  nearly  all  discharged, 
but  a  mass  of  taem  sciU  lies  in  the  centre  of  ttie  cyst  b.  The  specimen  has 
been  treated  with  dilute  KHO,  and  the  gi-anuleneontents  of  the  cysf 

•  dissolved.  Around  the  central  mass  of  spores  is -rendered  visible  the  nt-t 
work  of  protoplasmic  origin  in  which  the  ejected  sporfee  were  embedded 
This  distinctly  resembles  in  origin  and  function  the  capiUitium  ot 
Myoefcozoa  (Tijtr.  III.),  a,  the  plasmatic  channels  leading  to  the  everted 
sporoducts ;  6,  the  still  remaining  s|)ore«  ;  c,  the  proper  cyst-wall ;  df  the 
everted  sporoducts ;   e,  the   gelatinous   envelope.  3.    A  ripe   spore 

(cidamydo  spore)  of  Oregarina  blattnrmn,  a  long  time  after  its  escape 
from  the  cyst;  :  '0  diam.  '4.  Commencing  encyetraent  of  a  syzy- 
gium  of  G.  blati  ^  a,  protomerite  of  one  individual ;  b,  gelatinoue 
envelope  ;  c,  pro.      -rite  of  the  second  individual.  5.  Three  epithelial 

cells  of  the  mid.gut  of  Biatta  orisntaliSy  into  the  end  of  each  of  which  an 
extremely  youny  Gregarina  blattantm.  has  made  its  way.  6.  Forthei 

development  of  the  young  Gregarina ;  only  the  epimerite  a  Is  now  buried 
in  the  substance  of  the  epithelial  cell,  and  this  will  soon  break  off  and  set  the 
Gregarina  free.  It  is  now  a  "cephalont";  it  will  then  become  a  ''sporont." 
7.  Basal  part  of  an  everted  sporoduct  of  Gregarina  blattantm,  a,  grann- 
lar-librous  mass  investing  the  base  of  the  duct;  6,  commencement  of  the 
plasmatic  channel  in  the  interior  of  which  the  sporoduct  was  produced  a« 
an  Invaginated  cuticular  formation  before  its  eversion.  8.  Gregarina 

tVianUa,  E,  Yu  Ben.,  from  the  intestine  of  the  Lobster ;  X  150.  a,  taudeui. 


rOROZOA.j 


i*  R  O  T  O  Z  O  A 


855 


0.  Anterior  end  ot  tho  dame  more  highly  maKnlfled.  a,  protonierite  ;  6,  Inycr 
o(  ciifular  flhrillto  lyinj;  below  the  cutielc  ;  c,  cortical  faubstauce  of  tho 
«lcutoiiicrilc ;   d,  nieilullary  8Uli3taiice  of  tho  deutomcrite.  10.  Two 

spores  o(  (^i-egarina  gitjantea  (alter  Butachll),  showing  the  very  thick  coat  o( 
tlic  epore.  11-15.  StaecB  Id  the  Uevelopnient  of  Gre^anna  .7i^an(#a: — 11, 
recently  escaped  from  the  spore-coat,  no  nucleus ;  12,  still  no  nucleus, 
one  vihratile  and  one  motionless  process ;  13,  the  two  processes  have 
divided ;  one  here  dr.iwn  has  developeil  a  nucleus ;  14,  further  growth ; 
15,  tile  dentonieritc  commences  to  develop. '  16.  Cysts  of  Grfgarina 

Cigautea,  from   the   rectum  of  tho  Lobster.    The  double  contents  are 
elicvcd  by  Ed.  Van  Ecncdcn  to  be  due  ac'.  to  conjugation  previous  to 
ency^tnient  but  to  subsc*(uent  fission.  17, 18.  Grvgaritui  loiigicol'is, 

Stein,  from  the  intestine  of  Blaps  mortisaga  : — 17,  cephalunt  phase,  with  a 
long  'pt'oboscis-like  epiftierite  a,  attaclied  to  the  protonierite  6 ;  IS, 
aporont  pliase,  tlio  opimei  ilo  liaving  been  cast  preliminarily  to  syzygy  and 
cncystment.-  19.  (Jrfoarina    Manieri,    Aim.    Sclmeider,    from    the 

intestine  of  Ti^narcfui  ktitibTicom,  to  show  the  network  of  anastoraosiiig 
fibres  beneath  the  outicle,  similar  to  tho  annular  flbrillio  of  G.  gigantm 
shown  in  9.  20.    Qregar'na   (Hopiorhync/ius)  oblvtacanikus,   Steijl, 

from  the  intestine  of  the  larva  of  Agrion.  Cephalont  with  spine-crowned 
epimerite  a.         2i.  ipon's  o(  Grfgariita  oligacanlhtit.  22,  i3.  Grc^a- 

rina  (Iloplorbifnchus)  Bujardini,  Aim.  Schneider,  from  the  intestine  of 
Lithobius/orjicatus  :—22,  specimen  with  epimerite  a,  therefore  a  "cepha- 
lont"; 2a,  specimen  losing  its  ejiimerite  by  rupture  and  becoming  a 
"spoiont." 

Order  2.  OLIGOaPOREA,  Aim.  Sclin. 

Cliaraeteis. — Tht  cyst-content  develops  itself  into  a  definite  and 
constant  but  small  number  of  spores 

Genus  unicum. — Coccidium,  Leuck.  (in  intestinal  enithcliuni  and 
liver  of  Mammals,  and  some  Invertebrates,  Figs.  XYlI.  24  to  31). 

OitDER  3.  POLYSPOREA. 

Cliaratkrs. — The  cyst-content  develops  itself  into  a  great  num- 
ber of  spores  (sixty  or  more). 

Genus  uniunm. — Klossia,  Aim.  Schn.  Three  species  of  Klossia 
are  found  in  MoUnsca — viz.,  in  Helix,  in  Cepbalopods,  and  in 
Chiton.  Schneider's  genus,  Adelea,  from  Lithobius,  appears  to 
belong  here.  Kloss  (49)  discovered  the  paiasite  of  the  renal  cells  of 
Helix  korUHsis  represented  in-Fig.  XVII.  18,  19,  20,  21,  and  22; 
Schneider  that  of  Cephalopods,  Fig.  XVII.  32,  83.  In  Chiton  Dr 
Tovey  has  discovered  a  third  species  with  very  remarkable  spores, 
which  are  here  figured  for  the  first  time  (Fig.  XVII.  12). 

Tho  Drepauidiuin  Hanarum  (Fig.  XVII.  45,  46,  47),  discovered 
by  Lankester  (50)  in  the  Frog's  blood,  is  probably  the  falciform  young 
of  a  Coccidium  parasitic  in  the  Frog's  kidney,  and  discovered  there 
by  Lieberkuhn  (51).  A  spore  of  this  Coccidium  is  shown  in  Fig. 
XVII.  48;  whilst  in  46  two  Drepanidia  which  have  penetrated  a 
red-blood  corpuscle  of  the  Frog  are  represented. 

The  Polyspoious  Coccidiidea  come  very  close  to  tho  Gregarinide 
ecnus  Monocystis,  from  which  they  may  bo  considered  as  being 
derived  by  an  arrest  of  development.  'The  spores  and  falciform 
young  of  the  Coccidiidea  are  closely  similar  to  those  of  Monocystis, 
and  the  young  in  both  cases  penetrate  the  tissue-cells  of  their  host ; 
but  in  Slonocystis  this  is  only  a  temporary  condition,  and  growth 
leads  to  the  cessation  of  such  "cell'parositism."  On  the  other 
hand,  growth  is  arrested  in  the  Coccidiidea,  and  the  organism  is 
permanently  a  cell-parnsitc. 

Since  the  parasitism  is  more  developed  in  the  case  of  a  ccll-para- 
sito  than  in  the  case  of  a  parasite  which  wanders  in  the  body  cavity, 
it  seems  probable  that  the  Coccidiidea  huvc  been  derived  from  tho 
Grcgarinidea  rather  than  that  the  reverse  process  has  taken  place. 

SoB-OLAss  III.  Myioeporidia,  Butschli. 

Characters. — Sporozoa  in  which  the  euglena-phase  is  a  largo 
multinucleate  aniccba-liko  organism  (Fig.  XVII.  34).  The  cysts 
are  imperfectly  known,  but  appear  to  be  simple  ;  some  attain  a 
diameter  of  two  lines.  The  spores  are  highly  characteristic,  having 
each  a  thick  coat  which  is  usually  provided  with  a  bifui'cato  process 
or  may  have  thread  cajisules  (like  ncmatocyste)  in  its  substance 
(Fig.  XVII.  40,  41,  42,  43,  44). 

'The  spores  contain  a  single  nucleus,  and  are  not  known  to  produce 
falciform  youug,  but  in  one  case  have  been  seen  to  liberate  an 
amoebula.  The  further  development  is  unknown.  The  ilyxo- 
sporidia  are  paiasitic  beneath  tho  epidermis  of  the  gills  and  fins,  and 
in  the  gall-bladder  and  urluarv  bladder  of  Fishes,  both  freshwater 
and  marine. 

Oenon.—Sfi/jndium,  Biitschli  (Pike,  Fig.  XVII.  34);  Myxoholas, 
Riitsohli  (Cyprinoids) ;  LiUiocysiia,  Giard  (tne  Lamellibranch  Echino- 
cardium). 

Tho  Myxosporiilia  are  very  imperfectly  known.  They  present 
very  close  alHnitiesto  tlie  ilycctozoa,  and  are  to  bo  regarded  as  a 
connecting  link  between  the  lower  Gynmoinyxa  and  tho  typical 
Snorozoa.  Possibly  their  largo  multinucleate  anireba  phase  is  a 
Plasmodium  foiniod  by  fusion  of  amtcbuln;  set  free  from  spores, 
though  it  Is  possible  that  tho  many  nuclei  aro  tho  result  of  a  division 
of  an  original  single  nuclons,  preparatory  to  spoiulation. 

Their  spores  aro  nioro  elaborate  in  structure  than  those  of  any 
other  Protozoa,  and  are  more  nearly  .paralleled  by  those  Of  eomo 
«pecii's  of  Monocystis  than  by  those  of  Mycetozoa,  Tho  thread- 
capsules  of  the  8|>ores  are  identical  in  structure  wiUi  those  of 
Hydrozon,  and  probably  servo  as  organs  of  attachment,  as  do  tho 
furcate  processes  of  the  sporo-caso.     It  is  not  certain  that  a  definite 


cyst  is  always  or  ever  formed,  but  as  occurs  rarely  in  some  Grcgari- 
nidea, the  spores  may  be  formed  in  a  non  encysted  amceba  form. 

Although  pseudopodia,  sometimes  short  and  thread-like,  have  been 
observed  in  the  amoeba  phase,  yet  it  is  also  stated  that  a  distinction 
of  cortical  and  medullary  substance  obtains. 

The  "  psorosperms  "  of  J.  Muller  are  the  spores  of  MjTcosporidia. 

Sub-class  IV.  Sarcooystidia,  Biitschli. 

(This  division  is  formed  by  Biitschli  for  the  reception  of  Sarco- 
cystis,  parasitic  in  the  muscular  fibres  of  Mammals,  and  of  Araoebi- 
dium,  parasitic  in  Crustacea.  Both  are  very  insufficiently  known, 
but  have  the  form  of  tubular  protoplasmic  bodies  in  which  numer- 
ous ovoid  spores  are  formed  from  which  falciform  young  escape.) 

Genera. — Sarcocystis,  Lankester  ;  Amtebidium,  Cienkowski  (52). 
Sai-cocystisfFig.  XVII.  DO,  51, S.  Micscheri,  Lank.),  wasfirstobservcd 
by  Jlieschor  in  the  striated  muscle-libres  of  the  Mouse  ;  then  by 
Rainey  in  a  similar  position  in  the  Pig,  and  taken  by  him  for  the 
youngest  stage  in  the  development  of  the  cysts  of  Ttnvia  soHwm  ; 
subsequently  studied  by  Beale  and  others  in  connexion  witli  tie 
cattle-jilague  epidemic,  and  erroneously  supposed  to  have  a  cansal 
connexion  with  that  disease.  It  is  common  in  healthy  butcher's 
meat.     See  Leuckart  (47). 

Further  remarks  on  tlie  Sporozoa. — ^The  Sporozoa  contrast 
strongly  with  the  large  classes  of  Gymnomyxa,  the  Heliozoa, 
Eeticularia,  and  Radiolaria,  as  also  with  the  Ciliate  and  Tentaculi- 
ferous  Corticata,  by  their  abundaut  and  rapidly  recurrent  forma- 
tion of  spores,  and  agree  in.  this  respect  with  some  Proteoinyxa, 
With  Mycetozoa,  and  some  Flagcllata.  Their  spores  are  remark- 
able for.  the  firm,  chitin-like  spore-coat  and' its  varied  shapes, 
contrasting  with  the  cellulose  spherical  spore-coat  of  Mycetozoa 
and  with  the  naked  spores  of  Radiolaria  and  Flagcllata. 

The  protoplasm  of  the  more  highly  developed  forms  (Gregarini- 
dea)  in  the  ouglenoid  phase  exhibits  considerable  differentiation. 
Externally  a  distinct  cuticle  may  be  present,  marked  by  parallel 
mgffi  {Monocystis  scrpulm)  or  by  fine  tubercles  (Monocystis  sipun- 
culi).  A  circlet  of  hooks  may  be  formed  by  the  cuticle  at  one  end 
of  the  body.  Below  the  cuticle  is  sometimes  developed  a  layer  of 
fibrils  running  transversely  to  the  long  axis  of  the  body  (Fig. 
XIX-  9  and  19),  which  have  been  regarded  as  contractile,  but  aro 
probably  cuticular.  Tho  cortical  layer  of  protoplasm  below  these 
cuticular  structures  is  dense  and  refringent  and  sometimes  fibril- 
lated  (Monocystis pcllucida,  Fi".  XVII.  15).  .It  is  the  contractile 
substance  of  the  organism,  and  encloses  the  finely  granular  more 
liquid  medullary  substance.  The  granules  of  the  latter  have  been 
shown  by  Biitschli  (9)  to  give  a  starch-like  reaction  with  iodine, 
&c.  Probably  the  protoplasm  in  which  they  lie  is  finely  reticulate 
or  vacuolar,  and  when  the  granules  are  few  it  is  actually  seen  to  be 
so.  No  contractile  vacuole  is  ever  present.  In  Jlyxosporidia  the 
medullary  protoplasm  is  coloured  yellow  by  hrematoidin  derived 
from  the  blood  of  its  host  or  by  afcsorbed  bile-pigment,  and  also 
contains  small  crystals. 

The  nucleus  of  the  Grcgarinidea  is  a  largo  clear  capsule,  with  a 
few  or  no  nucleolar  granules.  It  has  never  been  seen  in  a  statd 
of  division,  and  it  is  not  known  what  becomes  of  it  during  sporula- 
tion,  though  sporulating  Grcgarinidea  have  been  observed  with 
many  minute  nuclei  scattered  in  their  protoplasm,  pr«sumabl} 
formed  by  a  breaking  up  of  the  single  nucleus. 

The  habit  of  attaching  themselves  in  pairs  which  is  common  in 
Grcgarinidea  is  perhaps  a  reminiscence  of  a  more  extensive  forma- 
tion of  aggregation  plasmodia  (compare  Mycetozoa).  Tho  term 
"syzygiiim"  is  applied  to  such  a  conjunction  of  two  Oregarinidea  ; 
it  is  not  accompanied  by  fusion  of  substance.  The  formation  of 
cysts  is  not  connected  with  this  pairing,  since  tho  latter  occurs  in 
young  individuals  long  before  cncystment.  Also  cysts  are  formed 
by  single  Grcgarinidea,  as  is  always  tho  case  in  the  non-motile 
Coccidiidea. 

The  oncystment  always  leads  to  the  formation  of  spores,  but  in 
rare  cases  sporulation  has  been  observed  in  uncncysted  Grcgarini- 
dea, and  it  occurs  perhaps  normally  without  true  cyst-formntipn  in 
the  Jlyxosporidia. 

Tho  cell-parasitism  of  tho  young  Sporozoa,  and  their  (lagcllula- 
like  (falciform)  young  and  active  vihratile  movement,  are  points 
indicating  affinity  witn  the  lower  Gymnomyxa,  and  especially  with 
those  Proteomyxa,  such  as  Vampyrella  and  Plasmodiojihora,  vrhich 
are  cdl-paiasites.  Indeed  it  is'i)robable  that  wo  have  in  this  fact 
of  cell-pnrasitism,  and  especially  of  parasitism  in  animal  cells,  a 
basis  for  the  theoretical  awociation  of  several  unicellular  organisms. 
The  Ilaplococcus  of  Zopf  (regarded  by  him  as  a  Mycetozoon)  is 
parasitic  in  tho  muscular  colls  of  tho  rig,  and  is  probably  related 
to  Sarcocystis.  Recently  Von  Lcndchtold  (68)  has  described  in 
Australia  an  amceba-liko'  organism  as  parasitic  in  tho  skin  of  Sheep, 
which  will  probably  be  found  to  bo  either  a  Sporozoon  or  referabua 
lo  those  parasitic  snore-producing  I'roteomyJta  which  are  separated 
from  Sporozoa  only  by  their  negative  ctiaractera  (see  previous 
remarks  on  tho  negative  characters  of  Protoomyxa). 
^ Tho  application  of  tho  name  "Qrcgarinos"  has  tometimes  been 


856 


PROTOZOA 


[flagei.tata. 


made  erroneously  to  external  parasitic  orgauiems,  which,  have 
nothing  in  common  with  the  Sporozoa.  This  was  the  case  ;n  regard 
to  a  fungoid  growth  in  human  hair — tlie  so-called  "chignon 
Gregarine."  The  Silk-worm  disease  known  as  "pebrine"  has  also 
been  attributed  to  a  Gregarine.  It  seems  probable  that  the  parasitic 
organism  which  causes  that  disease  is  (as  is  also  the  distinct  parasite 
causing  the  disease  known  as  "  Haccid^zza  "  in  the  same  animals) 
one  of  the  Schizomycetes  (Bacteria).  No  disease  is  known  at 
present  as  due  to  Sporozoa,  although  (e.g.,  the  Klossia  chitonis) 
they  may  lead  to  atrophy  of  the  organs  of  the  animals  which  they 
infest,  iu  consequence  of  their  enormous  numbers,  i  Coccidia  and 
Sarcocystis  are  statert  to  occur  in  Man. 

Class  II.  FLAGELLATA,'  Ehrenberg. 

C/inractera.  — Corticata  in  which  the  dominant  phase  in  .the  life- 
history  is  a  corticate  flagellula,  that  is,  a  nucleated  cell-body  pro- 
vided with  one  or  a  few  large  processes  of  Tibratile  protoplasm. 
Very  commonly  solid  food  partic.es  are  in()*'ed  through  a  distinct 
cell-mouth  or  aperture  in  the  cortical  protupiasm',  though  iu  some 
an  imbibition  of  nutritive  niatter'by  the  whole  surface  and  a  nutri- 
tional process  chemically  resembling  that  .of  plants  (holophytic), 
chlorophyll  being  present,  seems  to  occur.   - 

Conjugation  followed  by  a  breaking  up  into  very  numerous  minute 
naked  spores  is  frequent  in  some  ;  as  also  a  division  into  small 
individuals  (microgonidia),  which  is  followed  by  their  conjugation 
with  one  another  or  with  big  individuals  (macrogonidia)  and  subse- 
quent normal  growth  and  binary  fission. 

Many  have  a  well-developed  cuticle,  which  may  form  collar-like 
outgrowths  or  stalk-like  processes.  Many  produce  either  gelatinous 
or  chitin-like  shells  (cups  or  ccencecia),  which  are  connected  so  as  to 
form  spherical  or  arborescent  colonies  ;  in  these  colonies  the  proto- 
plasmic Organisms  themselves  produce  new  individuals  by  fission, 
which  separate  entirely  from  one  another  but  are  held  together. by 
the  continuity,  with  those  already  existing,  of  the  new  shells  or 
jelly -houses  or  stalk-like  supports  produced  by  the  new  individuals. 
A  single  well-marked  spherical  nucleus,  and  one  or  more  coutractile 
vacuoles,  are  always  present  in  the  full-grown  form. 

Often,  besides  ingested  food-particles,  the  protoplasm  contains 
starch  granules  (aniyjon  nucleus),  paramyhim  corpuscles,  chromato- 
phors  and  chlorophyll  corpuscles,  some  of  which  may  be  so  abundant 
as  to  obscure  the  nucleus.  One  or  two  pigment  spots  (stigmata  or 
so-called  eye-spots)  are  often  present  at  the  anterior  end  of  the  body. 

Sub-class  I.  Lissoflagellata,  Laukester. 

Never  provided  with  a  collar-like  outgrowth  around  the  oral 
pole. 

Order  1.  MONADIDEA,  ButschlL 

CMrac/cra.— Lissoflagellata  of  sriiall  or  very  small  size  and 
simple  structure ;  often  naked  and  more  or  less  amoeboid,  sometimes 
forming  tests.  Usually  colourless,  seldom  with  chromatophors. 
With  a  single  anterior  large  flagellum  or  sometimes  with  two 
additional  paraflagella.  A  special  mouth-area  is  often  wanting, 
sometimes  is  present,  but  is  never  produced  into  a  well-developed 
pharynx. 

Fam.  1.  Rhizomastigina,  Biitschli.  Simple  mouthless  forms 
with  1  to  2  fiag«lla;  either  permanently  exhibiting  a  Gymnomyxa- 
like  development  of  pseudopodia  or  capable  of  passing  suddenly 
from  a  firm-walled  into  a  Gymnoniyxa-like  condition,  when  the 
flagella  may  remain  or  be  drawn  in.  Ingestion  of  food  by  aid  of 
the  pseudopodia. 

Genera. — Mastigammia,  F.  E.  Schultze;  Ciliopfirys,  Cienkowski 
(65);  DimorpJia,  Gruber;  Aclinomonas,  Kent;  Trypaywsoma,  Gnihy 
(parasitic  in  the  blood  of  Frogs  and  other  Amphibia  and  Reptiles, 
Fig.  XX.  21,  22).  The  Rhizomastigina  might  all  be  assigned  to 
the  Proteomyxa,  with  which  they  closely  connect  the  gioup  of 
Flagellata.  The  choice  of  the  position  to  be  assigned  to  such  a 
form  as  Ciliophrys  nuist  be  arbitrary. 

Fam.  2.  Cercomonadina,  Kent.  '  Minute  oblong  cell-body 
which  posteriorly  may  exhibit  amoeboid  changes.  One  large 
anterior  flagellum.  Mouth  at  the  base  of  this  organ.  Reproduc- 
tion by  longitudinal  fission  and  by  multiple  fission  producing 
spores  in  tho  encysted  resting  state. 

Genera. — Ccrcotnonas,  Duj.  (Fig.  XX.  32,"  33);  Herpetomonas,  S. 
Kent;  Oikomnnns,  Kent  {  —  Monas,  James  Clark;  Pseudospora, 
Cienkowski,  Fig.  XX.  29,  30,  31) ;  Ancyromonas,  S.  K. 

Fam.  3.  Codoncecina,  Kent.  Small  colourless  monads  similar 
to  Otkomonas  in  structure,  which  secrete  a  fixed  gelatinous  or 
membranous  envelope  or  cup. 

Genera. — Codonosm,  James  Clark;  Platythieca,  Stein. 

Fam.  4.  Bikcecika,  Stein.  Distinguished  from  the  last  family 
by  the  fact  that  the  monad  is  fixed  in  its  cup  by  a  contractile 
thread-like  stalk  ;  cup  usnally  raised  on  a  delicate  stalk. 

Genera. — Bkosaca,  J.  CI.;  Potcriodcndron,  Stein. 

»  Butsclili's  work  (9)  Iii'S  been  pretty  closely  foUowed  in  the  diagnosis  of  the 
gi-oups  of  Flauellata  and  the  enumeration  of  genera  here  given. 


Fio.  -VX.— Flagellata.  l.  Chlamydmnonas  puh'isculua,  Ehr.  i  —  Zyifoedmis, 
From.):  one  of  the  Phytomastigoaa ;  free.swiniming  individual,  a.  nucleus; 
6,  contractile  vacuole;  c,  starch  corpuscle:  d,  cellulose  in\estmeDt: 
e,  stigma  (eye-spot).  2.  Kesting  stage    of  the  same,  with  fourfold 

division  of  the  ceU^ontents.    Letters  as  before.  3.  Breaking  up  of 

the  cell-contents  into"  minute  biflagellate  swarm-apores,  which  escape,, 
and  whose  history  is  not  further  known.  4.  Syncrypta  voivox,  Ehr.  ; 

one  of  the  Phytomasti-roda.  A  colony  enclosed  by  a  common  gelatinous 
teste,    a,  stigma:   &,  vacuole  (non-contractile).  5.  Uroglena  voivox, 

Ehr. ;  one  of  the  Monadidea.  Half  of  a  large  colony,  the  flagellates 
embedded  in  a  common  }hl\y.  6.  Cklorogonium  euchlorum,  Ehr.  ; 

one  of  the  Phytornastigoda.  a,  nucleus;  d,  contractile  vacuole ;  c,  starch. 
grain;    d,  eye-spot.  7.  Chlorogonium  euchlorxtm,  Ehr.,  one  of  the 

Phytornastigoda.  Copulation  of  two  liberated  microgonidia.  «,  nucleus; 
6,  contractile  vacuole  ;  rf,  eye-spot  (so-ealled).  8.  Colony  of  I)ino6rj/{)n 

gerUdaria,    Elir.  ;     x200;    one    of    the    Monadidea.  &.  Uxmato- 

i:occu:i  patustris,  Girod  (=  Chlamydococcus,  Braun,  Protococcvs  Cohul 
one  of  tlie  Phytomastigi>da ;  ordinary  individual  with  xidely  separated. 
test.  a,  nucleus ;  b,  contractile  vacuole ;  c,  amylon  nucleus  (pyreuoid). 
10.  Dividing  resting  stage  of  the  same,  with  eight -fission  products  in 
tlie  common    test    e.  11.  A    microgoDidium   of  the  samer  12- 

Phalanstenum  cojistH-tatutn,  Cienk.,  one  of  the  Choanotla^eUata ;, 
X  325.    Disk -like  colony.  13.  Buglena  -viridis,  Ehr.;    x  300;  one  ot 

the  Euglenoidea.  a,  pigment  spot  (stigma) ;  6,  clear  space  ;  c,  paramyluiu 
granules:  d, chromatophor(endochroroeplat6K  14.  Goniittn pecturate , 

O.  F.,MuIler:  one  of  the  Phytornastigoda-  Colony  seen  from  the  flat  side. 
X  300.    a,   nucleus  ;  6.   contractile   vacuole  ;  c,  amylon  nucleus.  15. 

Dinoiif/on  tertularia,  Ehr. ;  one  of  the  MonSdidea.    a,  nucleus  ;  b,  coa- 


V^tAOELLATA.l 


PROTOZOA 


857 


(Jractile  Tacuole:  e,  omjilon-ntipleus  ;  d,  free  colourless flfl^pMates, prnbnhly 
Slut  belonging  to  l>intfLtr>i>ii ;  e,  atignia  (eye-sput);  /,  cbromatoptiors. 
Id.  Pet-anana  trtchophorum,  Ehr.,  (one  of  the  EuglenoiUea),  creeping 
jnilivulual  aeen  from  the  back;  X  140.  n,  nucleus;  6,  contractile 
vacuoles  ;  c,  pharynx  ;  d,  mouth.  17.  Anterior  end  of  Ewjlena  rtcnj*, 

Ehr.,  in  prolllo.  a,  inoutli ;  b,  contfactile  vacuoles  ;  c,  pharynx  ;  d,  stlpna 
<iye.spot):  tf,  parainyliuu-botly  ;/,  chloroptiyll  corpuscles.  18.  Part  of 

the  surface  of  a  colony  of  VoUox  <jiobatQr,  L.  d'hytomastigoda),  showiU;; 
the  intercellular  connective  ftlirils.  a,  nucleus  ;  6,  contractile  vacuole ; 
c,  aniyluni  granule'.  19.  Two  niicrogouidia  of  Koffox  fjlobator,  L.    a, 

nucleus ;     b,     contractile    vacuole.  20.    Ripe    asexually   produced 

daughter-Individual  of  Votvox  vilnor.  Stein,  still  enclosed  in  the  cyst 
of   the    parthcno.gonidiuru.      o,   young    partheno-gonidia.  21,    22. 

Trypanosoma  sanguifiis,  Gruliy  ;  ohe  of  the  Rhlzomastigiua,  from  the 
blood   of   Jiana  escMlenta.     a,  nucleus.       x  500.  23-20.      Repro- 

duction of  Boilo  cautlatus,  Duj.  (one  of  the  Hetoromastigoda),  after  Dallin- 
ger  and  Drysdale :— 23,  fusion  of  several  individuals  (Plasmodium);  24, 
encysted  fusion-product  dividing  into  four;  2.^»,  later  into  eight ;  26,  oyst 
filled  with  swarm-spores.  27.  Astasia  tenax,  ().  F.  Mull.  (Proteus)  ;  one  of 
the  Euglenoidea ;  x  440.  Individual  with  the  two  flagella,  and  strongly 
contracting  hinder  region  of  the  body,  a,  nucleus  ;  b,  coutractile  vacuole, 
close  to  the  pharynx.  28.  Tlie  same  devoid  of  Hagella.    a,  nucleus; 

c,  c,  the  two  dark  pigment  spots  (so-called  eyes)  near  the  mouth.  29. 

Oifcoinoiiaf  termo  (Munas  t-  nno)  Ehr. ;  one  of  the  Monadidea.  a,  nucleus  ; 
A,  contractile  vacuole ;  c,  food-ingesting  vacuole  ;  d,  food-particle,  x  440. 
30.  The  food-particle  d  haa  now  l>een  ingested  by  the  vacuole.  31. 

Oikomonas  mutabiUg,  Kent  (ilonadidea),  with  adherent  stalk,  a,  nucleus: 
b,  contractiJe  vacuole  ;  c,  food-particle  in  food  vacuole.  32,  33.  Cerco- 
monas  crassicauda,  DuJ.  (Monadidea),  showing  two  conditions  of  the 
pseudopodium-protruding  tail,  a,  nucleus ;  b,  contractile  vacuoles  ;  c, 
mouth. 

FaiM.  5.  HETERCMONADtNA,  Butsclili.  Small  colourless  or  green 
monads  which  possess,  besides  ono  chief  flagellum,  one  or  two  smaller 
parallagella  attached  near  it,  often  forming  colpuies  secreting  a 
common  stalk. 

Genera.— J/bnos  (Ehr.),  Stein;  Dendromonas,  Stein  ■.  CepJialo- 
Vmrnnium,  Stein  ;  Anthophysa,  Bory  d.  Vine.  {Fig.  XXl.  12,  13); 
Dinobryon,  Ehr.  (Fig.  XX.  8  and  15);  Epipyxis,  Ehr.;  Uroglcna, 
Ehr.  (Fig.  XX.  5). 

Oedeii  2.  EUGLENOIDEA,  BiitschlL 

Characters. — Generally  somewhat  large  and  highly  developed 
tnonofla<'ellate  forms,  of  mouaxonio  or  slightly  asymmetrical 
build.  Cuticle  present ;  cortical  substance  firm,  contractile,  and 
elastic ;  some  forms  quite  siiff,  others  capable  of  definite  annular 
contraction  and  worm-like  elongation.  At  the  base  of  the  flagellum 
a  small  or  large  mouth  leading  into  a  more  or  less  distinct 
pharyngeal  tube.  Near  this  is  always  the  contractile  vacuole. 
Rarely  a  pair  of  flagella  instead  of  one. 

Fam.  1.  CcELOMONADiNA.  Coloured  Euglenoidea,  with  numer- 
ous small  clilorophyll  corpuscles  or-l  to  2  large  plate-like  green  or 
brown  chromatophors.  Jlouth  and  pharynx  inconspicuous  ;  nutri- 
tion probably  largely  vegetal  (holophytic). 

Genera. — Caslomonas,  Stein  ;  Gonyoslamum,  Dies.  ;  Vacuolaria, 
Cienk. ;'  Microgloia,  Ehr.  ;  Chromulina,  Cienk. ;  Cryploglcna,  Ehr. 

Fam.  2.  Euglknixa,  Stein.  Body  monaxonic,  elongated,  hinder 
«nd  pointed.  Spirally  striated  cuticle.  A  fine  mouth-aperture 
leads  into  the  well-developed  tubular  pharynx.  Flagellum  usually 
single,  sometimes  paired,  often  cnst  off.  Near  the  pharynx  is  the 
"reservoir"  of  the  contractile  vacuoles  and  several  of  the  latter. 
A  single  (sometimes  two)  stigma  or  colour-speck  near  tlio  same 
spot.  Chromatophors  nearJy  always  present,  generally  brijjht 
<;i«en.  A  laige  nucleus  in  the  middle  of  the  body.  Multiplication 
by  longitudinal  fission.  Encysted  condition  and  attendant  fission 
imperfectly  studied.     Copulation  dpubtful. 

Genera.  — (rt)  With  flexible  cuticle  -.—Euglcna,  Ehr.  (Fig.  XX.  13, 
17;  this  is  probably  Piipstlcy's  "green  matter,"  from  which  ho 
obtained  oxygen  gas  ;  though  ono  of  the  very  commonest  of  all 
Protozoa,  its  life-history  has  yet  to  be  worked  out) ;  Colacium, 
Ehr.;  Eutreptia,  Pcrty. 

(6)  With  stiff,  sheiMiko  cuticle  : — Ascoglena,  Stein  ;  Trachela- 
iKonas,  Ehr.;  Lcpocinclis,  Verty;  Fhactis,  Nitzsch. 

Fam.  3.  Menoidisa,  Biitschli.  Similar  to  the  Englenina,  but 
devoid  of  chlorophyll,  a  deficiency  connected  with  the  saprophytic 
uiodc  of  life.     Stigma  always  absent. 

Genera. — (n)  With  flexible  cuticle  : — Astasiopsis,  Biitschli :  A$la- 
9ioden,   Biitschli. 

(ii)  With  stiir  cuticle  and  non-contractile  body  : — Monoidium, 
Terty  ;  Atrncioiiewa,  Stein  :  lihabdomonas,  Fresenius. 

fam.  4.  Peranemina.  ^'°ry  contractile  (motubolic)  colourless 
Euglcnoi  Is.  Mouth  and  pnarynx  largo  ;  inception  of  solid  nutri- 
inent  certainly  obscned. 

Genera.— /'«r,«!<;)/m,  Duj.  (Fig.  XX.  16);  Thceohm,  Meresch. 

Fam.  5.  Petalomonadina.  Colourless,  non-metabolic  forms. 
Mouth  opening  at  the  lm-.e  of  the  single  largo  flagellum. 

Genera. — Petalomonas,  Stein. 

Fam.  6.  Astvsina.  Colourless,  metabolic,  or  stiff  Euglcnoids, 
diffoiing  from  the  rest  in  having  a  small  or  largo  paraflagellum  in 
addition  to  tlio  chief  one  Nutrition  partly  saprophytic  partly 
animal. 

Geneia.—Atlaala,  Ehr.  emend.  Stein  (Fig.  XX.  27,  28) ;  JJeUro- 
H'lnn,  Vu].  ;  Zngoeclmis,  Puj.  ;  i^plunrmenoM.  Stoin  ;  Tropido- 
*C!j;>Ims,  Slcln. 

1 !)—:{( \« 


Ouder  3.  HETEROMASTIGODA,  Butschli. 

Characters. — Small  and  large  monads.  Naked  and  even  amoeboid 
or  with  stiff  cutiole.  Two  flagella  at  the  anterior  end  differing  in 
size :  the  smaller  directed  forwards  subserves  the  usual  locomotor 
function  ;  the  larger  is  directed  backwards  and  trailed,  without 
movement.  Sometimes  two  backwardly  directed  flagella  are  present. 
Always  a  mouth  and  animal  nutrition.     Always  colourless. 

Fam.  1.  BoDONlNA,  Biitschli  Size  of  the  two  flagella  not  very 
difl'erent. 

Genera.— 5odo,  Ehb.  emend.  Stein  (Fig.  XX.  23  to  26,  and  Fig. 
XXI.  10  ;  the  hooked  monad  and  the  springing  monad  of  D^l- 
linger  and  Drysdale  (66)  ;  Heteromila  of  Dujardiu  and  Kent); 
Phyllomitus,  Stein  ;  Colponema,  Stein ;  Dallingeria,  Kent ;  Tri- 
mastix,  K«nt. 

Fam.  2.  Anisonemina,  Kent.  Large  forms  with  cuticle  ;  differ- 
ence of  the  two  ilagella  considerable,  llouth.  nharyni,  and  animal 
nutrition. 

Genefa. — Anisonema,  Duj.  •  Entosivhon,  Stein. 

Order  4.  ISOMASTIGODA,  Butschli. 

Characters. — Small  and  middle-sized  forms  of  monaxonic  rarely 
bilateral  shape.  Fore-end  with  2,  4,  or  seldom  6  equal-sized  and 
similar  flagella.  Some  are  coloured,  some  colourless  ;  naked  or 
with  strong  cuticle  or  secreting  an  envelope.  Mouth  and  pharynx 
seldom  observed  ;  nutrition  generally  holophytic  {i.e.,  like  a  green 
plant),  but  in  some  cases,  nevertheless,  holozoic  {i.e.,  like  a  typical 
animal). 

Fam.  1.  Amphimonadina.  Small,  colourless,  biflagellate  Iso- 
mastigoda. 

Genera. — Amphimonas,  Xynj.  {1  Pseudospora,  Cienk.), 

Fam.  2.  Spongomonadina,  Stein.  Small  colourless  oval  forms 
with  two  closely  contiguous  ilagella.  Chief  character  in  the  union 
of  numerous  individuals  in  a  common  jelly  or  in  branched  gelatinous 
tubes,  the  end  of  each  of  which  is  inhabited  by  a  single  and  distinct 
individual. 

Genera. — Spongomonas,  Stein  ;  Cladomonas,  Stein  ;  Ehipido- 
monas.  Stein. 

[Group  Phytonmstigoda,  Biitschli.  The  following  three  families, 
viz.,  Chrysomonadina,  Chlamydomonadina,  and  Volvocina,  are  so 
closely  related  to  one  another  as  to  warrant  their  union  as  a  s»i,i- 
order.  They  are  typical  Isomastigoda,  but  have  chlorophyll 
corpuscles  and  holophytic  nutrition  with  correlated  deficient 
mouth  and  pharynx.  They  are  usually  regarded  by  botanists  as 
belonging  to  the  unicellular  Alga;.] 

Fam.  3.  Chkysomonadin.*,  Biitschli.  Single  or  colony-forming  ; 
seldom  nn  envelope.  Splierital  free-swimming  colonies  may  b« 
formed  by  grouping  of  numerous  individuals  around  a  centra. 
With  two  or  rarely  one  brown  or  greenish  brown  chromatophors 
a  stigma  (eye-speck)  at  the  base  of  the  flagella. 

Genera. — Slylochrysalis,  Stein;  Chrysopyxis,  Stein;  Nephrosel- 
mis,  Steiu ;  Synura,  Ehr.  ;  Syncrypta,  Ehr.  (Fig.  XX.  4). 

Fam.  4.  Chlamydomonadina.  Fore-end  of  tne  body  with  two 
or  four  (seldom  five)  flagella.  Almost  always  green  iu  consequence 
of  tho  presence  of  a  very  largo  single  chromatophor..  Generally  a 
delicate  shell-like  envelope  of  meinbranous  cousistenco.  1  to  2 
contractile  vacuoles  at  the  base  of  tho  flagella.  Usually  ono  eye. 
speck.  Division  of  the  protoplasm  within  tho  envelope  may  pro. 
duce  four,  eight,  or  more  now  individuals.  This  Inay  occur  in  the 
swimming  or  in  a  resting  stage.  Also  by  more  continuous  fission 
microgonidia  of  various  sXzea  aro  formed.     Copulation  is  fiequeiiL 

Genera. — Hymenomonas,  Stein;  Chlorangium,  Stein;  Chloro- 
gonium,  Ehr.  (Fig.  XX.  6,  7) ;  Polytoma,  Ehr.  ;  Chlamydomonaa, 
Ehr.  (Fig.  XX.  1,  2,  3);  Ilsemalococcus,  Agardh  {  —  Chlamydo- 
coccus,  A.  Braun,  Stein  ;  Protocoams,  Cohn,  Huxley  and  Martin  ; 
ChlamydoTtioAas,  Cienkowski);  Carteria,  Diesing;  Spoitdylomonim, 
Ehr.  ;  Coccomonas,  Stein  ;  Phacotiis,  Pijrty. 

Fam.  '5.  Volvooina.  Colony-building  Phytomastigoda,  the  cell- 
individuals  standing  in,  structure  between  Chlamj'domonas  and 
Haimatococcus,  and  always  billngellate.  The  number  of  individuals 
united  to  form  a  colony  varies  very  much,,  as  does  tho  shape  of  the 
colony.  Reproduction  by  the  continuous  division  of  all  or  of  only 
certain  individuals  of  tho  colony,  resulting  in  the  production  of» 
daughter  colony  (from  each  sucn  individual).  In  some,  probably 
in  all,  at  certain  times  copulation  of  the  individunls  of  distinct 
sexual  colonies  takes  place,  without  or  with  a  dilfcrontiution  of  the 
colonics  and  of  tho  copulating  cells  as  male  ond  female.  The 
result  of  tho  copulation  is  a  resting  zygos]>ore  (also  called  zvgote  cr 
oo-spermos])oro  or  fertilized  egg-cell),  which  after  a  time  JovcIoim 
itself  into  ono  or  more  now  colonies. 

Genera.— Oort/Km,  O.  F.  Miillor  (Fig.  XX.  1<) ;  Strphanotphara, 
Cohn  ;  Pandnrina,  Borv  do  Vine. :  Eudorina,  Enr. ;  '  Volvox, 
Ehr.  (Fig.  XX.  18,  20). 

[The  sexual  reproduction  of  tho  colonies  of  the  Volvocina  is  one 
of  tho  most  important  phenomena  presented  by  the  Protozoa.  lo 
Bomo  families  of  FlagellatafuU-giown  individnala  beoomo  amoeboid, 
fuse,  oncyst,  and  then  break  up  into  flagellate  spores  which  develop 


858 


PROTOZOA 


[PLAGELLATA. 


■imply  to  the  parentnl  form  (Fig.  XX.  23  to  26).  ,  In  the 
Cblamydomonai'.iim  ;i,  single  adult  individual  by  division  produces 
■mall  individuals,  so-called  "microgonidia."  These  copulate  with 
one  another  or  with  similar  microgonidia  formed  by  other  adults 
(as  in  Ghlorogoniuiu,  Fig.  XX.  7);  or  more  rarely  in  certain 
genera,  a  microgouidium  copulatoa  with  aa  oiJirmry  individual 
(macrofjoibiiliuia).  The  result  ia  either  case  is  a  "zygote,"  a  cell 
formed  by  fusion  of  two  which  divides  in  the  usual  way  to  produce 
new  individuals;  The  microgonidinm  in  this  case  is  the  maje 
element  and  equivalent  to  a  spermatozoon  ;  the  macrogonidium  ia 
the  female  and  equivalent  to  an  egg-cell.  The  zygote  is  a  fertilized 
egg-cell,  or  oo-spermospore.  In  the  colony-building  forms  we  find 
that  only  certain  cells  produce  by  division  microgonidia  ;  and, 
regarding  the  colouy  as  a  multicellular  individual,  we  may  consider 
these  cells  as  testis-cells  and  their  microgonidia  as  spermatozoa. 
In  some  colony-building  forms  the  microgonidia  copulate  with 
ordinary  cells  of  the  colony  which,  when  thus  fertilized,  beconic 
encysted  as  zygotes,  and  subsequently  separate  and  develop  by 
division  into  new  colonics.  In  Volvox  the  macrogonidia  are  also 
epecially -formed  cells  (not  merely  any  of  the  ordinary  vegetative 
cells),  so  that  in  a  sexually  ripe  colony  we  can  distinguish  egg- 
cells  as  well  as  sperm  mother-cells.  Not  only  so,  but  in  some 
instances  (Eudorina  and  some  species  of  Volvox)  the  colonies  which 
produce  sexual  cells  can  not  merely  be  distinguished  from  the 
asexiisl  colonies  (which  reproduce  parthenogenetically),  but  can  be 
distinguished  also  inter  se  into  male  colonies,  which' produce  from 
certain  of  their  constituent  cell-units  spermatozoa  or  microgonidia 
only,  and  female  colonies  which  produce  no  male  .cells,  but  only 
macrogonidia  or  egg-cells  which  are  destined  to  be  fertilized  by 
the  microgonidia  er  spermatozoa  of  the  male  colonies. 

The  differentiation  of  the  cell-units  of  the  colony  into  neutral  or 
merely  carrying  cells  of  the  general  body  on  the  one  hand  and 
•special  sexual  cells  on  the  other  is  extremely  important.  It  places 
these  cell-colonies  on  a  level  with  the  Enterozoa  (Metazoa)  in 
regard  to  reproduction,  and  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  same 
process  of  specialization  of  the  reproductive  function,  at  first  com' 
ajon  to  all  the  cells  of  the  cell-complex,  has  gone  on  in  both 
cases.  The  perishable  body  which  carries  the  reproductive  cells  is 
nevertheless  essentially  dilierent  in  the  two  cases,  in  the  Tolvocina 
being  composed  of  equipollent  units,  in  the  Enterozoa  being  com- 
posed of  units  ('.istributed  in  two  physiologically  and .  morphologi- 
cally distinct  Ixyers  or  tissues,  the  ectoderm  and  the  endoderm. 

The  sexual  reproduction  of  the  Vorticellidse  may  be  instructively 
compared  with  that  of  the  Phytomastignda ;  see  below.] 

tarn.  6.  Tetramitina.  Symmetrical,  naked,  colourless,  some- 
what amoeboid  forms,  with  four  flagella  or  threeand  an  undulating 
membrane.     Nutrition  animal,  but  mouth  rarely  seen. 

Genera. — Oollodictyon,  Carter;  Tetranvitus,  Perty  (Fig.  XXI. 
11,  14  ;  calycine  monad  of  Dallinger  and  Drysdale  (66)) ;  Monocerco- 
moiuxs,  Grassi ;  Tricliomonas,  Doun^  ;   TTichomastix,  Bloehmann. 

Para.  7.  PoLTMASTiaiif  A.  Small,  colourless,  symmetrical  forms. 
Two  flagella  at  the  hinder  end  of  the  body  and  two  or  three  on  eaeh 
■iide  in  front.     Kutrition  animal  or  saprophytic. 

Gonera. — ffexamiMis,  Duj.  (Fig.  XXI.  5) ;  Mcgastoma,  Grassi ; 
PohjmasHx,  Biitschli. 

Fam.  8.  TiiEPOMOMADrNA,  Kent.  As  Polymastigina,'  bnt  the 
lateral  anteriorflagella  are  placed  far  back  on  the  sides. 

Genera. — Trepomonas,  Duj.,  described  recently  without  name  by 
Dallinger  (67). 

Fam.  9.  Cp.TPTOMONADfiTA.  Coloured  Or  colourless,  laterally 
compressed,  asymmetrical  forms ;  with  two  very  long  anterior 
flagella,  placed  a  little  on  one  side  springing  from  a  deep  atrium - 
like  groove  or  furrow-  {(f.  Dinofiagellata  and  Noctiluea,  to  which 
these  forms  lead). 

Genera. — Oyoihomanas,  From. ;  Chilomenas,  Ehr. ;  Cryptormmas, 
Ehr. ;  Oxyrrhis,  Dnj. 

Fam.  10.  LoPHOMONAriNA.  AtnftofnumeroHsflagellaanteriorlv. 

Genus. — LophomoTias,  Stein  (Fig.  XXI.  9,  connects  the  Flagel- 
Ia.ta  with  the  Peritrichous  Ciliata). 

Suh-class  II.  Choanoflagellata,  Saville  Kent. 
Fliigellata  provided  with  an  upstanding  collar  surrounding  the 
SBteriar  pole  of  the  cell  from  which  the  single  flagellum  springs, 
identical  in  essential  structure  with  the  "collared  cells  "  of  Sponges. 
Single  or  colony-building.  Individuals  naked  (Codosiffa),  or  inhabit- 
ing each  a  cup  (Salpingosca),  or  embedded  in  a  gelatinous  common 
iavcstmeut  (Prolerospoitgia). 

Order  1.  NUDA,  Lankester. 

CAararf«ra. -individuals  naked,  secreting  neither  a  lorica  (cup) 
nor  a  gelatinous  envelope. 

Genera.^— J/bmosif/d,  S.  Kent  (solitary  stalked  or  sessile) ;  Codo 
iga,  James  Clark  (united  socially  on  a  common  stalk  or  pedicle, 
/ig.  XXI.  3,  i) ;  Astrosiga,  S.  Kent ;  Desmarclla,  S.  Kent. 

Oedee  2.  LORICATA,  Lankester. 
Cmtraeierf, — Each  individual  collarcd-cel'  unit  secretes  a  boiHT 
or  sheik 


Fro.  XXI.— Flagellata.  I.  Sslpingoeea  fusiforinis,  S.  Kent ;  one  of  &ir 
Choanoflagellata.  The  protopKisraio  body  ib  drawn  together  within  the 
goblet-sliaped  shell,  and  divided  ioto  nuintrous  sporea..    x  1500,  2. 

Escape  of  the  spores  of  the  same  as  monoilagellate  and  swarm-spores. 
S.  Cudosisja  umbellaia,  Tatem;  one  of  the  Choanotlageliata ;  adult  colony 
formed  by  dichotcwions  growth  ;  x  625,  4.  A  single  zooid  of  the  same  ; 
X  1250.  a,  nucleus  ;  &,  contractile  vacuole  ;  c,  the  characteristic  '^collar* 
formed  by  cuticle  on  the  inner  face  of  which  is  a  most  delicate  network  ot 
naked  streaming  protoplasm.  R.  Hexamita  infiata,  Duj. ;  one  of  the 

Ispmastigoda ;  x  650  ;  normal  adult;  Bhowinpa.  nucleus,  and  6,  contrac- 
tile vacuole.  6,7.  Srtij^in^opfiaflfT^o^rtfrt.S. -Kent;  oneof  theChoano- 
flagellata; — 6,  with  collar  extended:  7,  w'ith  collar  retracted  within  th* 
stalked  cup,  o,  nucleus;  &,  contractile  vacuole.  8.  Polytoma  uvflUt, 
Mull,  sp. ;  one  of  the  Phytomastigoda.  o,  nucleus ;  &,  contractile  vacuole. 
X  SOO,  9,  Lophomonas  blatiarum,  Stetn ;  one  of  the  Isomastigoda, 
ijomthe  mtestiue of  Blatta  OTientatis.  a,  nuclens.  10,  Bodo  leng^  Mull,  f 
one  of  the  Heteroraaatigoda;  x  800.  a,  nucleus;  &,  contractile  vacuole ; 
the  wavy  filament  is  a  ti.agellnm,  the  straight  one  is  an  immobile  trailing" 
tliread.  ll.Tetramitussulcatus,Steia;  ono of  the Isomastigoda  ;  x430. 
a,  nucleus;  6,  contractile  vacuole.  12.  Anthophysm  vgetaiviy  O.  F. 
MUller ;  oneof  the  Monadidea;  x  300.  A  typical,  erect,  shortly-branchintf 
colony  atock  with  foiu- terminal  mortad-clustera.  13,  Monad  cluster  of 
the  same  in  optical  section  ( :<  800),  showing  the ,  relation  .of  tbe 
individual  monads  or  flagellate  zooids  to  the  stem  a.  '  14,  Tetramitxt* 
rostratus,  Perty ;  one  of  the  Isomastigoda ;  x  1000.  a,  nucleus ;  6,  con- 
tractile fAC&c^a.  ■  L^  Protsroaponfiia  Haeckeli,  Saville  Kent :  one  of 
trie  Choanoflagellata;  x  SOu.  a  soeisl  colcoy  of  about  forty  flsgi'lijite 
9kMii.    a,  nucleus;   b,  contractile  vacnole;   c,  aI:^Uai^^5l  zooid  hk-iIc 


DIKOFLAGELLATA.] 


PROTOZOA 


859 


wKhin  tho  common  jelly  or  test  (compared  Iflr  S.  Kent  to  tho  mcBoderm- 
cells  o£  a  sponge-colony) ;  d,  bimilar  zooid  multiplying:  by  transverse 
Kitsion  ;  e,  noilnal  zooida  with  thvir  collars  contracteil ;  /,  hyaline  mucila- 
Klnous  common  test  or  »iotIi»*ciuni ;  ^,  iii-iividual  contracted  and  dividing 
Into  minnte  flagellate  apores  (microgoniaia)  comparable  to  the  spcrmato- 
foa  of  a  Sponge. 

Gcaen.—Sttlpingaca,  Janies  Clark. (sedentary,  Fig.  XXI.  6,  7) ; 
Lageiueca,  S.  Kent  (free  swimming) ;  Polyceea,  S.  Keut  (cups  united 
socially  to  form  a  branching  zocccinin  as  iu  Diuobryon). 

Obdee  3.  GELATrSIGERA,  Lankcster. 

Tho  cell-units  secrete  a  copious  gelatinous  iuTestment  and  form 
laiin  colonies. 

Genera. — Phalanstenum,  Clenk,  (Fig.  XX.  12) ;  Proterospangia, 
aaville  Kent  (Fig.  XXl.  15). 

{The  Cboanoflagellata  were  practically  discovered  by  the  Amcri- 
caa  naturalist  James  Clark  (68),  who  also  discovered  that  tlie  ciliated 
chambers  of  Sponges  are  lined  by  collared  cells  of  the  same  peculiar 
itructure  as  the  individual  Choanofiagcllata,  and  hence  was  led  to 
.-ejpird  the  Sponges  as  colonies  of  Choanoilagellata.  Saville  Kent 
(66)  has  added  much  to  our  knowledge  of  the  group,  and  by  his 
diseovery  of  Proterospongia  (see  Fig.  XXI.  15,  and  description) 
has  rendered  the  derivation  of  the  Sponges  from  the  Flagellata  a 
tenable  hypothesis.] 

^rther  remarks  on  the  Flagellata. — Increased  attention  has 
1)een  directed  of  late  years  to  the  Flagellata  in  consequence  of  the 
researches  of  Cienkov.ski,  Butschli,  James  Clark,  Savilla  Kent,  and 
fUtMD.  Tljey  present  a  very  wide  range  of  structure,  from  tho 
simple  amc&boid  forms  to  the  elaborate  colonies  of  Volvox  and 
Proterospongia.  By  some  they  are  regarded  as  the  parent-group 
of  the  whole  of  the  Protozoa  ;  but,  whilst  not  conceding  to  them 
this  position,  but  removing  to  the  Proteomyxa  those  Flagellata 
which  would  justify  such  a  view,  we  hold  it  probable  that  they  are 
the  ancestral  Krotm  of  the  mouth-bearing  Cortieata,  and  that  the 
(Xliata  and  Dinonagellata  havo  been  derived  from  them.  One 
general  topic  of  importance  in  relation  to  them  may  be  touched  on 
pare,  and  that  is  tne  nature  of  the  Hagellura  and  its  movements. 
Speaking  roughly,  a  ftagellura  may  be  said  to  bo  an  isolated  filament 
of-vibratilij  protoplasui,  whilst  a  cilium  is  one  of  many  associated 
filaments  of  tho  kind.  The  movement,  however,  of  a  flhgellum  is 
not  the  same  as  that  of  any  cilium  ;  and  the  movement  of  all 
llagella  is  not  identical.  A  ciiiura  is  simply  bent  and  straightened 
llternately,  its  substance  probably  containing,  side  by  side,  a  con- 
tractile and  an  elastic  fibril.  A  tlagellum  exhibits  lashing  move- 
ments to  and  fro,  and  is  thrown  into  serpentine  waves  during  theBe 
movements.  But  two  totally  distinct  kinds  of  llagella  are  to  be 
distinguished,  viz.,  (a)  the  puleellum,  and  ifi)  the  tractellum.  An 
example  of  the  pulsellum  is  seen  in  the  tail  of  a  spermatozoon  which 
drives  the  body  in  front  of  it,  as  does  the  tadpole's  tail.  Such 
a  "pulsellum"  is  the  pause  of  the  movement  of  the  Bacteria.  It 
i»never  found  in  the  Flagellata.  So  little  attention,  has  been  paid 
to  this  fact  that  affinities  are  declared  by  recent  writers  to  exist 
■■-jtween  Bacteria  and  Flagellata,  The  flagellum  of  the  Flagellata 
is  totally  distinct  from  the  pulsellum  of  the  Bacteria.  It  is  carried 
in  front  of  the  body  and  drn\v8  the  body  after  it,  being  used  as  a 
man  iwes  his  arm  and  hand  when  swimming  on  his  side.  Hence 
it  may  bo  distinguished  aa  a  "tractellum."  Its  action  may  bo 
beat  studied  in  some  of  the  large  EugUnoidea,  such  aa  Astasia. 
Here  it  is  stiff  at  the  base  and  is  carried  rigidly  in  front  of  tho 
suimal,  but  it.s  terminal  third  is  reflected  and  exhibits  in  this 
reflected  condition  swinging  and  undulatory  movements  tending  to 
propel  the  reflected  part  of  tlie  flagellum  forward,  and  so  exerting  a 
traction  in  that-direotion  upon  the  -whole  animal.  It  is  in  this  way 
(by  reflexion  of  its  extremity)  that  the  flagellum  or  tr.actellum  of 
tho  Fhi{,'cllnta  also  acta  so  as  to  impel  food-particles  against  the  base 
of  the  flagellum  where  the  oral  aperture  is  situated. 

Many  of  the  Flagellata  are  parasitic  (some  haimatozoic,  see  Lewis, 
70);  the  majoiity  live  in  tho  midst  of  putrefying  organic  matter  in 
sea  and  fresh  waters,  but  are  not  known  to  be  active  as  agents  of 
putrefaction.  Dallinger  and  Drysdalo  havo  shown  that  the  spores 
of  Bodo  and  others  will  survive  an  exposure  to  a  higher  tempera- 
ture than  do  any  known  Schizomycutcs  (Bacteria),  viz.,  2.')0'  to 
300°  Fahr.,  for  ten  minutes,  although  the  adults  are  killed  at  180°. 

Class  III.  DINOFLAGELLATA,  BUtschli. 
Charnrters. — Corticate  Protozoaof a  bilaterallyaf vrnmetrical  form, 
sometimes  flattened  from  back  to  ventral  fiurf.ioe  (Diplopsalis, 
Glenodinium),  sometimes  from  the  front  to  tho  himkr  region 
(Ceratiiim,  Peridinium),  sometimes  from  right  to  left  (I'inophysis, 
Amphidinium,  Piorocentrum) — the  anterior  region  and  ventral 
surface  being  determined  by  tho  presence  of  a  longitudinal  groove 
and  a  large  flagellum  projecting  from  it.  In  all  except  tho  genus 
Piorocentrum  (Fig.  XXII.  C)  there  is  aa  well  as  a  longitudinal 
groove  a  transverse  groove  (hence  IliiiilVr.a)  in  which  lies  horizon- 
tally a  second  flagellum  (Klehs  and  Butschli),  hitherto  mistaken  for 
a  girdle  of  cilia.  Tho  transverse  groove  lies  either  at  the  anterior 
end  of  the  body  (Dinophysis,  Fig.  XXII.  3,  i ;  Amphidiuium)  or 


at  the  middle.  In  Oymnodinium  it  takes  a  spiral  cotme.  in 
Polykrikos  (a  compound  mctimeric  form)  there  arc  eight  indepen- 
dent transveree  grooves. 

The  Dinollagellata  are  either  enclosed  in  a  outicular  sliell 
(Ceratium,  Peridinium,  Dinophysis,  Diplopsalis,  Glenodinium, 
i'roroccntrum,  ic. )  or  are  naked  (Gymnodinium  and  Poljkrikos). 
The  cuticular  membrane  (or  shell)  consists  of  celluloso  or  of  a 
similar  substance  (c/.  Labyrintluilidea)  and  not,  as  has  been  sup- 
posed, of  silica,  nor  of  chitin-liko  substance  ;  it  is  either  a  simple 
cyst  or  perforated  by  pores,  and  may  be  built  up  of  separate  plaics 
(Fig.  XXII.  10). 

The  cortical  protoplasm  contains  trichocysta  in  Polykrikos. 

Tho  medullary  protoplasm  contains  often  chlorophyll  and  also 
diatomiii  and  starch  or  other  amyloid  substance.  In  these  cases 
(Ceratium,  some  species  of  Peridinium,  Glenodinium,  I'roroccntrum, 
Dinophysis  acuta)  nutrition  appears  to  be  holophytic  But  in 
others  (Gymnodinium  and  Polykrikos)  these  substances  are  absent 
and  food-particles  are  found  in  tho  medullary  protoplasm  which 
havo  been  taken  in  from  the  exterior  through  a  mouth  ;  in  these 
nutrition  is  holozoic.  In  others  which  are  devoid  of  chlorophyll 
and  diatomin,  &c.,  there  is  found  a  vesicle  and  an  orifice  connected 
with  the  exterior  near  the  base  of  the  flagellum  (cf,  Flagellata)  by 
which  water  and  dissolved  or  minutely  granular  food-matter  is 
introduced  into  the  medullary  protoplasm  {Proloperidinium  peltu- 
cidum,  Peridinium  diverge^is,  Diplopsalis  Uniicula,  Dinophysis 
Ixvis).  It  is  important  to  note  that  these  divergent  methods  of 
nutrition  are  exhibited  by  ditierent  species  of  one  and  the  same 
genus,  and  possibly  by  individuals  of  one  spegies  in  successive 
phases  of  gi'owth  (?). 

No  contractile  vacuole  has  been  observed  in  Dinoflagellata. 

The  nucleus  is  usually  single  and  very  large,  and  has  a  peculiar 
labjTinthino  arrangement  of  chromatin  substance. 

Transverse  binary  fission  is  the  only  reprodnctivo  process  as  yet 
ascertained.  It  occurs  either  in  the  free  condition  (Fig.  XXII.  2) 
or  in  peculiar  horned  cysts  (Fig.  XXII.  S).  Conjugation  lias  been 
observed  in  some  cases  (by  Stsin  in  Gymnodinium). 

Mostly  marine,  some  freshwater.     Many  are  phosphorescent 

The  Dinoflagellata  are  divisible  into  two  orders,  according  to  the 
presence  or  absence  of  the  transverse  groove. 

Ordek  1.  ADINIDA,  Bergh. 

Characters. — Body  comrressed  laterally  ;  both  longitudinal  anti 
transverse  flagellum  placed  at  the  anterior  pole ;  a  transverse  groove 
is  wanting  ;  z-  cuticular  shell  is  present. 

Genera. —ProrocCT^rum,  Ehr.  (Fig.  XXII.  6,  7);  Exuviella, 
C\an\ii(= Dinopyxis,  Stein;  Cnjptomonas,  Ehr.). 

Order  2.  DINIFERA,  Bergh. 

Characters. — A  transverse  groove  is  present  and  usually  a  longi- 
tudinal groove.     The  animals  are  either  naked  or  loricate. 

Fam.  1.  DiNOPHYiDA,  Bergh.  Body  compressed ;  the  transversa 
groove  at  tho  anterior  pole  ;  the  longitudinal  groove  present ; 
longitudinal  flagellum  directed  backwards  ;  loricate. 

Genera. — Dinophysis,  Ehr.  (Fig.  XXII.  3,  4);  ytmphidinium, 
CI.  &  L. ;  AmphisoUnia,  Stein ;  Hislioneis,  Stein  ;  Cilharistci, 
Stein  ;  Omithocercus,  Stein. 

Fam.  2.  Peridin'id.^,  Bergh.  Body  either  globular  or  flattened  ; 
transverse  groove  nearly  equatorial ;  longitudinal  groove  narrow  or 
broad  ;  loiicato. 

Genera. — Protoperidinivm,  Bergh;  Peridinium  (Ehr.),  Stein 
(Fig.  XXII.  1,  2);  Protoecratium,  Bergh;  Ceratium,  Schi-ank  (Fig. 
XXII.  15);  Diplopsalis,  BergK ;  Glenodinium,  Ehr.;  lltlerocapaa, 
Stein ;  Gonyaulax,  Dicsing  ;  Goniodoma,  Stein ;  Blcpharocysla, 
Ehr. ;  Podolampas,  Stein  ;  Aviphidomti,  Stein  ;  Oxrilorum,  Stein  ; 
Ptychodiscus,  Stein  ;  Pyrophacus,  Stein  ;  Ceralocorya,  Stein. 

Fam.  3.  Gymkodinida,  Bergh.  As  Feridinida  but  no  lorica 
(cuticular  shell). 

Genera. — Gymnodinium  (Fig.  XXII.  6),  Stein ;  Ilemidiniuvi, 
Bergh. 

Fam.  4.  Poltdinida,  Biitschli.  '  As  G}'innodinida,  but  with 
several  indouendcnt  transverse  grooves.- 

Genus. — Polyh:ikos,  Biitsclili. 

Further  Kemarks  on  the  DinoJl,igr.llata.'—TK\s  small  group  is  at 
the  moment  of  the  printing  of  the  present  article  receiving  a  largo 
amount  of  attention  from  llcrgh  (81),  Klcbs  (83),  and  Biitschli  (82),' 
and  has  re<-eutly  been  greatly  extcndeil  by  the  iliscovcrics  of  Stoin 
(80), — the  lust  work  of  tlic  great  illustrator  of  the  Ciliate  Protozoa 
before  his  death.  The  constitution  ol  the  rcll-wnll  or  outiclo  from 
cellulose,  as  well  as  the  presence  of  chlorophyll  and  diatomin,  and 
the  holo|ihylic  nutrition  of  many  foi-ms  recently  demonstrated  by 
Bergh,  has  led  to  tho  suggestion  that  tho  Dinollagellata  are  to  bo 
regarded  as  plants,  and  allied  to  the  Dialomncew  and  Deainidiacero. 
Physiological  grounds  of  Ihirt  Viiitl  have,  however,  aa  has  been 
pointed  out  above,  little  impoitatuc  in  ileterrnining  tho  aflinitica 
of  Protozoa.  Biitschli  (82)  in  a  recent  very  important  artirto  has 
shown  iu  confirmation  of  Klcbs  that  thoCDinuflagellata  do  no| 


860 


PROTOZOA 


[  uH  V  nchoflagellata; 


I  girdle  of  cilia  as  previously  supposed,  but  that  the  struc- 
ture mistaken  for  cilia  is  a  second  flagellum  which  lies  horizontally 
in  the  transverse  groove.  Hence  the  name  Cilioflagellata  is  super- 
aeded  by  Dinoflagellata  (Qr.  dinos,  the  lound  area  where  oxen  tread 
oat  on  a  threshing  floor ^. 


Fia.  XXII.— Dinoflasellats  and  Ehynchona^eUata.   n.b.  in  all  these 

(igores  the  apparent  girdle  of  cilia  is.  according  to  KJebs  and  BUtschli'a 
recent.disccvery,  to  bo  interpreted  as  an  encircling  flagellum  lying  in  the 
transverse  groove.  1.  Peridinium  uberrimiim,  Allman  ;  x300  (fresh- 

water pondj,  Dublin).  Probably  (according  to  Biitschli)  the  processes  on 
the  surface  are  not  cilia  nor  flagellum.  Both  the  longitudinal  and  the 
transverse  groove  are  well  seen.  2.  The  same  species  in  transverse 

fission.  S.  Diiu>physh  ovata,  CI.  and  L ;  x  350  (salt  water,  Norwegian 

coast).  4.  Diiwplii/sis  acuminata,    CI.  and   L. ;    X360  (salt   water, 

Norwedan  coast)!  5.  Ot/mnodininin,  sp. ;  x  COO. '         6.  Prorocen- 

trum   micans,    Ehr.;    xSOO  (salt  water).  7.  Dorsal   aspect   of   the 

same  species.  8,  9.  Cysts  of  Peridinia;  the  contents  of  8  divided 

Into  eight  minnte   naked  Peridinia;  x300.  10.    Empty  cuirass  of 

Ceratium  dimrgem.  CI.  and  L. ;  x  600  ;  showing  the  form  and  disposition 
of  its  component  plates.  11.  The  same  species  with  the  animal  con- 

tracted  into  a  spherical  form.    The  transverse  groove  well  seen.  12. 

The  same  soecies  in  the  normal  state.  The  apparent  girdle  of  cilia  is 
really  an  undulating  flagellum  lying  in  the  transverse  groove.  13, 14. 

Toiuig  stages  of  Hoctihica  miliaru.'  n,  nucleus;  s,  the  so-called  spine 
(auperflcial  ridge  of  the  adult);  a,  the  big  flagellum  ;  the  unlettered  filament 
^  a  flagellum  which  becoruf^  the  ok-I  flagellum  of  the  adult..       Jib.  Cera- 


tium trt'pog,  Miill.  The  transvcr::e  groove  well  seen.  The  cilia  really  are 
a  single  horizontal  flagellum.  16,  17.   Two  stages  in  the  transverse 

fisiion  of  Noctiluca  miliaris,  Suriray.  7i,  nucleus;  ^,  food-particles;  (,  the 
muscular  flagellum.  lb.  Hoctiluca  mitiaris^  viewed  from  the  aboral 

side  (after  AUnian,  Quart..  Jour.  Mic.  Set.,  Ib72).  a,  the  entrance  to  the 
atrium  or  flagellar  fossa  (^longitudinal  groove  of  Dinoflagellata);  c,  the 
superficial  ridge;  d,  the  big  flagellum  (  =  the  flagellum  of  the  transverse 
groove  of  DiDofl.Hgellata);  h,  the  nucleus.  19.  The  animal  acted  upon 

by  iodine  solution,  showing  the  protoplasm  like  the  "  primordial  utricle" 
of  a  vegetable  cell  shrimk  away  from  the  structureless  firm  shell  or 
cuiniss.  20.  Lateral  view  of  Noctiluca,  showing  a,  the  entrance  to  the 

groove-like  atrium  or  flagellar  fossa  in  which  b  is  placed;  c,  the  superficial 
ridge;  d,  the  big  flagellum;  e,  the  mouth  and  gullet,  in  which  is  seen 
Krohn's  oral  flagellum  (=the  chief  flagellum  or  flagellum  of  the  longita- 
dinal  groove  of  Dino-flagellata)  ;  /,  broad  process  of  protoplasm  extending 
from  the  superflcial  ridge  c  to  the  central  protoplasm ;  g,  duplicature  of 
the  shell  in  connexion  with  the  superflcial  ridge ;  h,  nucleus. 

Biitschli  further  suggests  that  the  DLnoHagellata  with  theis 
two  flagcUa  and  their  1-ehaped  combination,  of  longitudinal  and 
transverse  grooves  may  be  cferived  from  the  Cryptomonadiua  (see 
p.  858).  In  the  latter  a  groove-like  recess  is  present  in  conne:uok 
with  the  origin  of  the  two  flagella.  Biitschli  tliinks  the  large  pro. 
boscis-like  Hagellum  of  Noctiluca  (Rliynchoflagellata)  represents 
the  horizontal  flagellum  of  Dinoflagellata,  whilst  the  prominent 
longitudinal  flagellum  of  the  Dinoflagellata  is  represented  in  that 
animal  by  the  small  flagellum  discovered  by  Krohn  within  lh» 
gullet  (see  Fig.  XXII.  20,  c).  The  young  form  of  Noctiluca  (Fig. 
XXII.  14)  has  the  longitudinal  flagellum  still  of  large  size. 

The  phosphorescence  of  many  Dinoflagellata  is  a  further  point 
of  resemblance  between  them  and  Noctiluca. 

Bergh  has  shown  that  there  is  a  considerable  range  of  form  in 
various  species  of  Dinoflagellata  (Ceratium,  &c.),  and  has  also  drawn 
attention  to  the  curious  faTt  that  the  mode  of  nutrition  (whether 
holophytic  or  holozoic)  differs  in  allied  species.  Possibly  it  may  be 
found  to  differ  according  to  the  conditions  of  life  in  individuals  ol 
one  and  the  same  species. 

The  drawings  in  Fig.  XXII.  were  engraved  before  the  publication 
of  Blitschli's  confirmation  of  Klebs's  discovery  as  to  the  nonexistence 
of  cilia  in  the  transverse  groove.  The  hair-like  processes  figured 
by  Allman  (91)  external  to  the  transverse  groove  in  his  Peridinium 
vberrimum  (Fig.  XXII.  1,  2)  cannot,  however,  be  explained  as  a 
flagellum.  Biitschli  inclines  to  the  opinion  that  their  nature  was 
misinterpreted  by  Allman,  although  the  latter  especially  calls 
attention  to  them  as  cilia,  and  as  rendering  his  P.  vberrimum 
unlike  the  Peridinium  of  Ehrenberg,  in  which  the  cilia  (horizontal 
flagellum)  are  confined  to  the  transverse  gioove. 

Class  IV.  EHTNCHOFLAGELLATA,  Lankester. 

Characters. — Corticate  Protozoa  of  large  size  (^^jth  inch)  and 
globular  or  lenticular  form,  with  a  firm  cuticular  membrane  and 
highly  vacuolated  (reticular)  protoplasm.  In  Noctiluca  a  deep 
groove  is  formed  on  one  side  of  the  spherical  body,  from  the  bottom 
of  whi^h  springs  the  thick  transversely  striated  proboscis  or 
"  big  flagellum.  '  Near  this  is  the  oral  aperture  and  a  cylin- 
drical pharynx  in  which  is  placed  the  second  or  smaller  flagellum 
(corresponding  to  the  longitudinal  flagellum  of  Dinoflagellata). 

N  utrition  is  holozoic.  No  contractile  vacuole  is  present ;  granule- 
streaming  is  observed  in  the  protoplasm.  An  alimentary  tract  and 
anus  have  been  erroneously  described.  The  nucleus  is  spherical 
and  not  proportionately  large  (see  for  details  Fig.  XXII.  18  to  20). 

Reproduction  by  transverse  fission  occurs,  also  conjugation  and, 
either  subsequently  to  that  process  or  independently  of  it,  a  forma- 
tion of  spores  (Cienkowski,  87),  the  jirotoplasm  gathering  itself, 
within  the  shell-like  cuticular  membrane,  into  a  cake  which  dividet 
rapidly  into  numerous  flagellated  spores  (flaOTlIulse).  These  escap* 
and  gradually  develop  into  the  adult  form  (Fig.  XXII.  13,  14). 

The  proboscis-like  large  flagellum  is  transversely. striated,  ant 
exhibits  energetic  but  not  very  rapid  lashing  movements. 

Noctiluca  is  phosphorescent,  the  seat  of  phosphorescence  being 
as  determined  by  Allman  (86),  the  cortical  layer  of  protopla.sra 
underlying  the  cuticular  shell  or  cell-wall  as  the  primordial  cuticle 
of  a  vacuolated  vegetabie  cell,  underlies  the  vegetable  cell-wall. 

Genera. — Only  two  genera  (both  marine)  are  known  : — Xoctilucctf 
Suriray  (90)  (Fig.  XXII.  17-20) ;  Zeptodiscus.  Hertwig  (88). 

Further  Remarks  on  the  Shynchofiagellatai—tThe  peculiar  anl 
characteristic  feature  of  Noctiluca  appears  to  be  found  in  its  largo 
transversely-striated  flagellum,  which,  according  to  Biitschli,  is  no; 
tlie  same  as  the  longitudinal  flagellum  of  the  Dinoflagellata,  btit 
probably  represents  the  horizontal  flagellum  of  those  organisms  ig  ' 
a  modified  condition ;  hence  the  name  here  proposed — Rhyncho- 
fiagellata. 

Noctiluca  is  further  remarkable  for  its  large  size  and  eyst-like 
form,  and  the  reticular  arrangement  of  its  protoplasm,  like  that  of 
a  vegetable  cell.  This  is  paralleled  in  Trachelitis  ovum  among  th« 
Ciliata  (Fig.  XXIV.  14),  where  the  same  stifi'ening  of  the  cuticlt 
allows  the  vacnolation  of  the  subjacent  protoplasm  to  take  placa 
The  remarkable  Leptodiscus  mediisoides  of  E.  Hertwic  (88)  appean 
to  be  closely  related  to  Noctiluca. 

It  would  no  doubt  be  not  unreasonable  to  associate  the  Dum 


CILIATA.] 


PROTOZOA 


8G1 


flagellit*  and  the  Rhynchoflagellata  with  the  true  Flagellata  in  one 
class.  But  the  peculiarities  of  the  organization  of  the  two  former 
groups  is  best  emphasized  by  treating  them  as  separate  classes  de- 
rived from  the  Flagellata.  Neither  group  loads  on  to  the  Ciliata  or 
to  any  other  group,  but  they  must  be  regarded  as  forming  a  lateral 
branch  of  the  family  tree  of  Corticata.  The  relationship  of  Nocti- 
luca  to  Peridinium  was  first  insisted  upon  by  AUman,  but  has  quite 
recently  been  put  in  a  new  light  by  Biitschli,  who  identifies  the 
atrial  recess  of  Noctiluca  (Fig.  XXII.  20,  6)  with  the  longitudinal 
furrow  or  groove  of  the  Dinoflagellata,  and  the  large  and  minute 
flagella  of  the  former  with  the  transverse  and  longitudinal  flagella 
respectively  of  the  latter.  The  superficial  ridge  c  of  Noctiluca 
appears  to  represent  the  continuation  of  the  longitudinal  groove. 
;,  The  phosphorescence  of  the  sea,  especially  on  northern  coasts,  is 
Vlargely  caused  by  Noctiluca,  but  by  no  means  exclusively,  since 
V  Medusee,  Crustaceans,  Annelids,  and  various  Protozoa  pften  take  part 
in  the  phenomenon.  Not  unfrequently,  however,  the  phosphor- 
escence on  the  British  coasts  seems  to  be  solely  due  to  Noctiluca, 
irbich  then  occurs  in  millions  in  the  littoral  waters^ 


fio.  XXIlI.'Cillata.— 1.  Sp<n>tlomnm  amhiguum,  Ehr.;  one  of  tho  Hot«ro. 
tricha;  x  120.  Ohaorve  on  thoriglitiilclolho  ornlnroovoanil  ipeclalliotero- 
trkhoiis  band  of  lonff  cllUi.  a,  monllifonn  niicloUB  ;  6,  contractllo  vncuolft. 
X.  SltntoT  Botirnorphui,  MUUei ;  one  of  tbe  Uot«rotrlch> ;  x  60 ;  group  ot 


Individuals  with  the  area  fringed  by  tite  hetemtrlchous  cilia  ezpendod 
truiiipct-wise.  3.  7'intinniig'taoenula,  C.  and  L.;  one  of  tbo  Het«ro- 

trictia;  x  300.  4.  Slrombiitium  Ctafaredii,  S.  K.;.ono  of  liic  Peritriclia; 
X  .^00.  6.  Empty  ahell  of  Codonctta  camparultCy  llaeck.;  one  of  tho 

Heterotriclia ;  x  180.  6,  7.  Ti'r'/rM(,;(a  (y/^ca,  LanlieBter.  p.tlio  supra- 
oral  lobe  Been  through  the  mcmbranrius  collar.  8,  9.  View  of  tha 
base  and  of  the  side  of  Trichodina  pedicutus,  Ehr.;  one  of  tlio  IVritrlcha; 
X  300.  o,  nucleus  ;  c,  corneous  collar ;  rf,  mouth.  10.  Hpivochona 
pf»inii/)ara,  Stein;  one  of  the  Peritrlcha;  x  350.  a,  nucleuB  ;  y.  biul.  11. 
Vorticetla  citrina,  Elir.;  X  160  (Pcritricha).  At  d  multiple  ilstion  of  an 
individual  cell  to  form  "microgonidia."  12.  Vorlieettiji  microti otna, 
£hr.  (Feritriuha);  x  300.  At  t  eight  "mlcrogonidia"  formad  by  fluiuii 
of  a  single  normal  individual.  13.  Same  species,  binary  Qssion.  a, 
elongated  nucleus.  14.  Vorticetla  Ufttuti/era,  Ehr. ;  free-swimming 
rooid  resulting  from  fission  in  tho  act  of  detaching  itself  and  swimmiug 
away,  possessing  a  posterior  circlet  of  cilia,  e,  ciliated  disk ;  /, 
pharynx.  15.  Vorticelia  microstoma,  Elir. ;  normal  zooid  with  two 
nucrogonldia  (or  mlcrozooids)  c,d,  in  the  act  of  conjugation,  a,  nucleus  ; 
6,  contractile  vacuole ;  e,  ciliated  disk  ;  /,  pharynx.  16.  Vorticftla 
microBtomat  Ehr.,  with  stalk  contracted  and  body  enclosed  in  a  cyst,  a, 
nucleus.  17.  Vorticttla  ncbtitifera,  Ehr.  a,  nucleus;  6,  contractile 
vacuole  ;  c,  muscular  region  of  the  body  continuous  with  the  muscle  of  ttfa 
stalk ;  d,  pharynx  (the  basal  cuntinnation  of  tlie  oral  vestibule  which 
receives  at  a  higher  point  the  foecnl  excreta  and  the  ejected  liquid  from 
tha  contractile  vacuole).  18.  Carchesitim  t^pectabitc,  Ehr. ;  retractile 
colony;  x  50.  19.  Trlchocysts  of  Epislytis  Jiavicans,  Ehr,  as  figured 
by  Greeff.  20.  Opercutaria  etenosloma.  Stein ;  x  200  ;  a  small  colony. 
Observe  the  ciliation  of  the  oral  vestibule  and  tlie  upstanding  clliate  disk 
(upercuiar-like).  21,  22.  Pyxicula  ajfinis,  S,  K.;  one  of  the  stalked 
loricate  Peritricha,  in  expanded  and  retracted  states,  i,  the  true  oper- 
culum. 23,24.  Gyrocoris  oxijura,  Stein;  one  of  the  free-swimmlng 
Peritricha,  with  spiral  equatorial  cilia-band ;  x  250.  6,  contraclilo 
vacuole.  25,  26.  7'huricola  vaivata,  Str.  Wright ;  one  of  the  sessiU 
tubiculons  Peritricha.  Two  Individuals  are  as  a  result  of  fission  tempo- 
rarily occupying  one  tube ;  «,  the  valve  attached  to  the  tube,  like  the  door 
of  the  trap. door  spider's  nest  and  the  valve  of  the  Gasteronod  ClausiUum. 

Class  V.  CILIATA,  Ehrenberg  (InfM^oria  scnsu  stricto). 

Characters.— CoT\.\ca.la.  of  relatively  large  size,  provided  with 
either  a  single  band  of  cilia  surrounding  the  anteriorly  placed  oral 
apertuie  or  with  cilia  disposed  more  numerously  over  the  whole 
surface  of  the  body.  The  cilia  are  distinguished  from  the  flagella 
of  Flagellata  by  their  smaller  size  and  simple  movements  of 
alternate  flexion  and  erection  ;  they  serve  always  at  some  period  of 
growth  as  locomotor  organs,  and  also  very  usually  as  organs  for 
the  introduction  of  food  particles  into  the  mouth.  Besides  one 
larger  oblong  nucleus  a  second  (the  paranucleus)  is  invariably  (?) 
present  (Fig.  X.XV.  2),  or  the  nucleus  may  bo  dispersed  in  small 
fragments.  Conjugation  of  equal-sized  individuals,  not  resulting 
in  permanent  fusion,  is  frequent.  The  conjugated  animals  separate 
and  their  nuclei  and  paranuclei  undergo  peculiar  changes ;  but  no 
formation  of  spores,  cither  at  this  or  other  periods,  has  been  de- 
cisively observed  (Fig.  XXV.  8  to  15).  Multiplication  by  transverse 
fission  is  invariably  observed  in  full-grown  individuals  (Fig.  XXV. 
16),  and  conjugation  appears  to  take  place  merely  as  an  interludo 
in  the  fissiparous  process  ;  consequently  young  or  small  Ciliata  are 
(with  few  exceptions)  unknown.  Possibly  spore -formation  may 
hereafter  be  found  to  occur  at  rare  intervals  more  generally  than  is 
at  present  supposed  (Fig.  XXIV.  16,  18).  A  production  of  micro- 
gonidia  by  rapid  fission  occurs  in  some  Peritricha  (Fig.  XXIII. 
11,  12,  14,  15),  tho  liberated  microgonidia  conjugating  with  tho 
librmal  individuals,  which  also  can  conjugate  with  one  another. 

Tho  Ciliata,  with  rare  exceptions  (parasites),  possess  one  or  more 
contractile  vacuoles  (Fig.  XXV.  3).  They  always  poMcss  a  delic&ta 
cuticle  and  a  body-wall  which,  althoufjh  constant,  in  form  is  clastic. 
They  may  bo  naked  and  frcc-swimniiitg,  or  they  may  form  homy 
(Fig.  XXIII.  21,  25)  or  siliceous  cuii-like  shells  or  gelatinous 
envelopes,  and  may  bo  stalked  and  form  colonies  like  those  of 
Choauoflagellata,  sometimes  with  organic  connexion  of  the  coii- 
atituent  units  of  the  colony  by  a  branching  muscular  cord  (Vorti- 
cellidie).  Many  are" parasitic  in  higher  animals,  and  of  these  some 
are  mouthless.  All  ire  holozoic  in  their  nutrition,  though  some  aro 
said  to  combine  with  this  saprophytic  and  holophytic  nutrition. 

Tho  Ciliata  aro  divisible  into  four  orders  according  to  tlia 
distribution  and  character  of  their  cilia.  Tho  lowest  group  (tho 
Peritricha)  may  possibly  bo  connected  through  some  of  its  members, 
such  as  Strombidinm  (Fig.  XXIII.  4),  with  tho  Flagellata  through 
Buch  a  form  as  Lophomonas  (Fig.  X.XI.  9). 

In  the  following  synopaia,  chiefly  derived  from  Saville  Kent's 
valuable  trcati.se  (71),  the  cliaractcrs  of  tho  families  and  the  name* 
of  genera  are  not  givtfn  at  length  owing  to  tho  limitation  of  our 
apace. 

OiiDEn  1.  PERITRK^lIA,  Stein  (79). 

CharacUri. — Ciliata  with  tho  cilia  arranged  in  one  anterior 
circlet  or  in  two,  an  anterior  and  a  posterior  ;  tho  general  surface  of 
the  body  is  dcalituto  of  cilia. 

Sub-order  I.  Natanti A  (animals  never  attached). 

Fnm.   1.    TonQUATF.I.T.TD*. 

Oenm.  —  Torquatdlii,  Ijinkester,  like  5/rom4«'(/i'i(m,  but  thocilia 
adherent  «o  as  to  form  a  vibratilo  »"einbranoua  collar  (Fig.  XXIII. 

6,  7). 

Fam.  2.  DiOTVOCTBTin.e.     Animals  loricate. 

Pam.  3.  AoTlNOBOLlDA     Illurlcato,  with  retractile  teulacnla. 


862 


PROTOZOA 


[CILIATA. 


Fbia.  4.  IlALTRr.riD.'E. 

GoiittiL—SlromOidium,  CI  k  L.  (Kg.  XXIII.  4);  Haltcria, 
Dujai'il.,  with  a  su])p!emeutary  girdle  of  springiug  hairs ;  Didinium^ 
Stoin.  <Fi^.  XXIV.  19). 

t'ain.  5.  Gyrocorid^ 

Genera. — Gi/rororis,  Stein,  with  an  equatorial  ciliary  girdle  spirally 
disposed  (Fig.'XXIlI.  23,  24);  Urocentrum^  Nitzsch,  girdle  annular. 


FlO.  XXIV.  Ciliata-— 1.  Ophaltnopsis  sepiott^  Foett. ;  a  parasitic  Holo- 
trielious  mouthless  CiUate  Irom  the  liver  ftf  the  Squid.  »,  nuclei ;  6, 
vacuoles  (non-contractile).  2.  A  similar  specimen  treated  with  picro- 

carmine,  showing  a  remarkably  Jbranched  and  twisted  nucleus;  a,  in 
place  of  several  nuclei.  3.  Tl'richotvjmpha  agilia,  Leidy  ;   parasitic 

in  the  intestine  of  the  Termites  Ophite  Auts);  x  600.  ,a,  nucleus;  6, 
granules  (food?).  4.  Opalina  ranarum,  Purkinj'e ;    a  Holotrichona 

mouthless  Ciliate  parasitic  in  the  Frog's  rectum  ;  adult ;  x  100.  a,  a,  the 
numerous  rcj;ularly  dispersed  nuclei.  .^.  The  same  ;  an  individual  in  pro- 
C£S3  of  binary  fission,  n,  nuclei.  6.  The  same  ;  the  process  of  fission  has 
now  reduced  the  individuals  to  a  relatively  small  size.  7.  Smallest  flssion- 
pruduced  frai^ment  encysted,  expelled  from  the  Frog  in  this  state  and 
swallowed  by  Tadpoles,  8.  Youni;  uninucleate  individual  which  has 

cmerced  from  the  cyst  within  the  Tadpole,  and  will  now  multiply  its 
nuclei  and  grow  to  full  size  before  is  turn  underzoin^  retro^'ressive 
fission.  9.  Anoplophrya   naidos,    iJuj. ;    a   mouthless    Holotrichous 

.Ciliate  parasitic  in  the  worm  Nais;  x  200.  «,  the  lar^e  axial  nucleus;  6, 
contractile  vacuoles.  10.  Anophphr>/a  prulijera,  C.  and  L.;frora  the 

futestins  of  LTitellio.    Remarkable  fur  tlie  ailhesioa  iu  &  metameric  series 


of  incomplete  fission-products,    a,  nucleus.  11.  Awphilei}iv«  gitfan^ 

C.  audL. ;  oneof  the  liolotricha;  x  100.  b,  contractile  vacuoles ;  c,  tiieho- 
cysts  (see  Fig  XXIII.  19);  d,  nucleus;  e,  pharynx.  12,  13.  Piotodun 

liu'eu*.  ■  Ehr.;  one  of  the  Holotricha;  x  75.  a,  nucleus;  6,  conti-nctilu 
vacuole;  c,  pharynx  with  horny  fascicular  lining,  12.  'ilic  fasciculate 
cuticle  of  the  pharynx  isolated.  14.   Trachclius  omnn,  lihr.  (liolo- 

tricha) ;  X  SO  ;  showing  the  reticulate  arrangement  of  the  nuxloilary  pro- 
toplpsm,  b,  contractile  vacuoles;  c,  the  cuticle-lined  pharynx.  15,  iti, 
17,  18.  Ictht/opkthirius  ■tnttitijilms,  Fouquet ;  one  of  tiic  liolotricha; 
X  120.  Free  individual  and  successive  fita;^es  of  division  to  form  sT>ores. 
a,  nucleus;  6,  contractile  vacuoles.  ly.   Didinixiiu  naiutmn,  .MiiU. ; 

one  of  the  Peritricha ;  x  200.  The  pharynx  is  everted  andiias  seized  a 
Parnmoecium  as  food,  a,  nucleus;  6.  contractile  vacuole;  c,  everted 
pharynx.  20.  Suptotes  charon,  Mijll.;  one  of  the  Hypotricha;  lateral 

view  of  the  animal  when  ufeing  its  great  hypotrichous  processes,  a:,  as 
ambulatory  organs.  21.  Enplotes  harpa,  Stein  (Hypotricha);  x    lf»o. 

h,  mouth;  x,  hypotrichous  processes  (limbs).  22.  Kyctothet-us  cortii- 

/ormis,  Steiu ;  a  Hetcrotrichous  Ciliate  parasitic  in  the  intestine  of  tlie 
Frog,  a,  nucleus ;  b,  contractile  vacuole ;  c,  food  particle ;  d,  aims ;  e, 
heterotrichous  band  of  large  cilia ;  /,  y,  mouth ;  h,  pharnyx ;  t,  small  cilia. 

Fatii.  6.  Urceolariidj:. 

Genera.  —  Trickodina,  Ehr.;  two  ciliate  girdles;  body  shaped  as  a 
pyramid  with  circular  sucker-like  base,  on  which  is  a  toothed  corneous 
ring  (Fig.  XXIII.  8,  9);  Licnophora,  Clap-;  Cvdochwtay  Hat.  Jacks. 


\^,u-.-  'fee--! 


Fro.  XXV.  Ciliata  (coningation,  Ac).  1.  Surface  view  of  Itolotricliou* 

Ciliate,  showing  the  disposition  of  tJic  cilia  in  longitudinal  rows.  %f 


cixiata] 


PROTOZOA 


K63 


Blftgrammatic  optical  section  of  a  Cillate  Protozoon,  ehowinp  all  structures 
except  the  contractile  vacuoles,  a,  nucleus;  b,  paranucleus  (80<aUed 
aucIoolUR) :  c,  cortical  substajicc ;  D,  extremely  delicate  cuticle ;  E, 
medulKiry  (more  fluid)  protoplasm  ;  /,  cilia;  ^,  trichocysts ;  h,  lliamcDta 
ejected  fronj  the  trichocysts  ;  i,  oral  aperture  ;  k,  drop  of  water  contain- 
InK  food-particles,  about  to  sink  into  the  medullary  substance  and  form 
a  food-vacuole ;  /.  m,  n,  o,  food-vacuoles,  the  successive  order  of  their 
formation  corresponding  to  the  alphabetical  sequence  uf  the  letters ;  the 
arrows  indicate  the  direction  of  the  movement  of  rotation  of  the  medul- 
lary protoplasm  ;  p,  pharynx.  8.  Outline  of  a  Clliate  (Paramcecium),  to 
flhow  the    form    aud   ^sition   of    the    contractile    vacuoles.  4-7. 

Successive  stages  in  the 'periodic  formation  of  the  contntctile  vacuoles. 
The  ray-like  vacuoles  discharge  their  contents  into  the  central  vacuole, 
which  then  itself  bursts  to  the  exterior.  8-15.  Diaijrams  of  the  changes 

undergone  by  the  nucleus  and  paranucleus  of  a  typical  Ciliate  during 
and  immediately  after  conjugation: — N,  nucleus;  pn,  paranucleus;  8, 
condition  before  conju;;ation ;  9,  conjugation  elTected  ;  both  nucleus 
and  paranucleus  In  each  animal  elongate  and  become  flbriUated  ;  10, 
two  spherical  paranuclei  pn^  in  each,  two  dividing  or  divided  nuclei 
V* ;  11,  the  spherical  paranuclei  have  become  fusiform ;  12,  there 
are  now  four  paranuclei  in  each  Cpn*  and  pn^i,  and  a  nucleus 
broken  Into  four  or  even  moro  fragments ;  13,  the  two  paranuclei 
marked  nn«  in  12  have  united  in  each  animal  to  form  the  new  nucleus 
pn' ;  the^  nuclear  fragments  are  still  numerous ;  14,  after  cessation 
of  conjugition  the  nuclear  fragments  N  and  the  two  mifused  paranuclear 
piecea  pn*  are  still  present ;  16,  from  a  part  or  all  of  the  fragments 
the  new  paranucleus  is  in  process  of  formation,  the  new  nucleus  (p7t'  =  N) 
ia  large  and  elongated.  10.  Diagram  of  a  Ciliate  in  process  of  trans- 

Teme  fission.  17.  Condition  of  the  nucleus  N,  and  of  the  paranucleus 

jm  in  Paranuecium  aurelia  after  oeesntion  of  conjugation  as  observed 
by   Biitschll.  18.    Stytonichia   mytitus    (one   of    the    Hypotrlcha), 

showing  endorparasitio  unicellular  organisms  b,  formerly  mistaken  for 
aporee ;  a,  nuclei  (after  conjugation  and  breaking  op). 

Fam.  7.  Ophkyoscolecid.*;. 

Genera. — AstyloMvti,  Engelin. ;  OphryoseoUx,  Stoin. 

8ab>oiiIer  3.  SECEhTAitiA,  animals  always  attached  or  sedentary 
during  the  ehief  part  of  the  life-history. 

Fam.  1.  VorticeiliDjE.  AnimaJa  ovate,  companulate,  or  sub- 
cylindrical;  oral  aperture  tcmiina],  eccentric,  associated  with  a 
spiral  fringe  of  adoral  cilia,  the  right  limb  of  -which  d«scenda  into 
tne  oral  aperture,  the  left  limb  encircling  a  more  or  lees  elevated 
protrusible  and  retractile  ciliary  disk. 

Sub-family  1.  VorticeliijDa! :  aniiualctdes  niij^ed. 

o. — Solitary  forms. 

Genera.  — Oerda,  CI. andL. ;  jScjiptirfai, Dnjsxd. ;  Spirorhcma,  Stein 
(sessile  with  peristome  in  the  form  of  a  spirally  convolute  mem- 
branous expansion,  Fig.  XXIil.  10)  ;  li/xidiu/Bi,  Kent  (with  a 
non.retractile  stalk)  ;  Varlicclla,  Linn,  (with  a  hollow  stalk  in 
which  is  a  contractile  muscular  filament). 

$. — Forming  dendriform  colonies. 

Genera. — Oardiaium,  Ehr.  (Fig.  XXIII.  18,  with  contractile 
siaXki) ;' Zootkam.miuin,  Ehr.  (eontractila  ataUts)  ;  £yislf/lis,  Ehr. 
(stalk  rigid) ;  Opertularia,  Stein  (stalk  rigid,  ciliated  disk  obliaue; 
an  elongated  peristomial  (x>llar,  Fif:.  J(XIII.  20). 

Sub-family  2.  Vaginieolinie :  animalcules  secreting  firm. enp-Jifce 
or  tube-like  membranous  shells. 

Genera.  —  Vcu/iiiicoia,  Lamarck  (uo  intomol  vfllve);  .Tkuricola, 
Kent  (with  a  door-like  valve  to  the  tube.  Fig.  XXIII.  25,  26) ; 
CofAwn'jui,  Ehr.  (lorica  or  shell  pe<licalatu ;  noopereulnjn);/'jnn'co/a, 
Kent  (lorica  pedunculate,  animal  carrying  dorsally  aihorny  (^er- 
culum.  Fig.  XXni.  21,  22). 

Sub-famil"  3.  Ouhrydina:  animoleules«ecretingasoft  gektioous 
envelope. 

Genera, — Ophionella,  Kent;  Ovhryaium,  EhT. 

Outers.  HETEROTRICHA,  Stein. 

Chamcters. — A  band  or  spiral  '  or  circlet  of  long  cilia  is 
developed  in'  relation  to  the  mouth  (tho  heterotrichous  band) 
corresponding  to  the  adoral  circlet  of  rerihicha;  the  rest  of  the 
body  18  uniformly  besot  with  short  cilia. 

a. — Heterotrichal  band  circular.  

Genera  (selected).— rinKmms,  Schranok  (Fig.  XXIII.  3);  TVt- 
ehodino]>.iis,  CI.  and  L. ;  Codoneiia,  Haeck.  (with  a  peri-oral  fringe 
of  lappet-like  processes) ;  Caleeohu,  Dtesitig. 

/3. — Heterotrichal  band  spiral. 

Genera  (selected). — Slentor,  Oken  (Fig.  XXIII.  2) ;  Dhnharisma, 
Perty  (with  an  undniating  membrane  along  the  oial  groove); 
SpiroslomAim,  Ehr.  (oral  groove  linear  and  elongate,  Fig.  XXI II. 
1);  Ltucophnjs,  Ehr.  (oral  groove  very  short). 

7. — Heterotrichal  band  in  the  form  of  a  simple  straight  or  obliuuo 
adoral  fringe  of  long  cilia. 

Genera  (selected). — hunaria,  Midler;  NydoOimis,  T^eidy  (with 
7cll-developed  alimentary  tract  and  anu.s,  Fig.  XXIV.  22) ;  Balan- 
idiiim,  CL  and  L.  (B.  coli  parasitic  in  the  human  intestine). 

oBDBR  3.  HOLOTEICHA,  Stein. 

Chnractera. — ^There  is  no  special  adoral  fringe  of  larger  cilia,  nor 
t  band-like  arrangement  of  cilia  upon  any  part  of  the  body  ;  short 
eilia  of  nearly  equal  size  are  uniformly  disposed  all  over  the  surface. 
The  adoral  cdia  sometimes  a  little  longer  than  the  rest. 

te. — With  no  membrnuiform  expansion  of  the  body  wall. 

Genera.— /"oramimMTO,  Ehr.  (Fig.  XXV.  J,  2) ;  Frorodon,  EhA 


(Fig.  X.XIV.  13);  Coltps,  Ehr. ;  Enehtlys,  Ehr. ;  Trcuhelocerca,  Ehr. ; 
Trachcliits,  Ehr.;  Amphilcptus,  Ehr.;  Iclht/ophthiritis,  Fouquet 
(Fig.  XXIV.  15). 

p. — Body  with  a  projecting  membrane,  often  ribratile. 

Genera. — Ophryoglena,  Ehr.;  Colpidium,  Stein;  I^nbia,  Colin; 
Trichonympha,  Loidy  (an  exceptionally  modified  form,  parasitic, 
Fig.  XXIV.  3). 

7. — Isolated  parasitic  forms,  devoid  of  a  mouth. 

Genera. — Opnlinn,  Furkinje  (nuclei  numerous,  no  contractile 
vacuole.  Fig.  XXIV.  4  to  8);  Bcncdenia,  Foctt.  ;  Opalinopsis, 
Foett.  (Fig.  XXIV.  1,  2);  Anoplophrya,  Stein  (large  axial  nuclens, 
numerous  contractile  vacuoles  in  two  linear  series.  Fig.  XXIV.  9 
10) ;  Haptopkrya,  Stein  ;  Hoplitophrya,  Stein. 

Ordee  4.  HYPOTRICHA,  Stein. 

Characters. — Ciliata  in  which  the  body  is  flattened  and  the 
locomotive  cilia  are  confined  to  the  ventral  surface,  and  are  often 
modified  and  enlarged  to  the  condition  of  muscular  appendages 
(setae  so-called).  Csually  an  adoral  band  of  cilia,  like  that  of 
Heterotricha.  Dorsal  surface  smooth  or  piovided  with  tactile 
hairs  only.     Mouth  and  anus  conspicuously  developed. 

o. — Cilia  of  the  ventral  surface  uniform,  fine,  and  vibratile. 

Genera.— C%i7odon,  Ehr.  ;  Loxodes,  Ehr.  ;  Dysteria,  Huxl.  ; 
BuxUya,  CI.  and  L. 

p. — Cilia  of  the  ventral  surface  variously  modified  as  •seta 
(muscular  appendages),  styles,  or  uncini. 

Geneta.—Stylonichia,  Ehr:  (Fig.  XXV.  18);  OxytricTia,  Ehr.; 
Euplotea,  Ehr.  (Fig.  XXIV.  20,  21). 

Further  remarks  on  the  Ciliata. — The  Ciliata  have  recently 
formed  the  subject  of  an  exhaustive  treatise  by  Mr  Saville  'Keni,  (71) 
which  is  accessible  to  English  readers.  On  the  other  hand  Prof. 
BUtschli  has  not  yet  dealt  with-  them  in  his  admirable  critical 
treatise  on  the  Protozoa.  Hence  a  large  space  has  not  been  de\xted 
in  this  article  to  the  systematic  classification  and  cnumeratiou  of 
their  genera.     See  (79)  and  (93). 

One  of  the  most  interesting  features  presented  by  the  group  is 
the  presence  in  many  of  a  cell  anus  as  well  as  a  cell  mouth  (Fig. 
XXIV.  22,  d).  In  those  devoid  of  an  anus  the  undigested 
renmants  of  food  are  expelled  either  by  a  temporary  aperture  on 
the  body-surface  or  by  one  opening  into  the  base  of  the  pharynx. 
In  many  parasitic  Ciliata,  as  in  higher  animal  parasites,  suuli  aa 
the  Cestoid  worms,  a  mouth  is  dispensed  with,  nutriment  being 
taken  by  general  imbibition  and  not  in  the  solid  form.  Mdny 
Giliata  develop  chlorophyll  corpuscles  of  defmite  biconcave  sliape, 
and  ijSrBeumably  have  so  far  a  capacity  for  vegetal  nutrition.  In 
VortieeUa  viridis  tlie  chlorophyll  is  uniformly  diffused  in  tlio  pro- 
toplasm and  is  not  in  the  form  of  corpuscles  (72). 

The  formation  of  tubes  or  shells  and  in  connexion  therewith  of 
colonies  is  common  among  the  Peritricha  and  "Heterotricha.  The 
cuticle  may  give  rise  to  structures  of  some  solidity  in  the  form  of 
hooks  or  tooth-like  processes,  or  as  a  lining  to  the  nhar^-nx  (Fig. 
XXIV.  12). 

The  phenomena  connected  with  conjugation  and  reproduction 
are  very  remarkable,  and  have  given  rise  to  numerous  misconcep- 
tions. They  are  not  yet  sufficiently  understood.  It  cannot  bo 
im-cly  asserted  that  any  Ciliate  is  at  the  present  time  known  to 
break  up,  after  cncystmcnt  or  otherwise,  into  a  number  of  spores, 
althougli  this  was  at  one  ttino  supposed  to  bo  the  rule.  Icthyoph- 
thirius  (Fig.  XXIV.  15  to  18)  and  some  Vorticellte  (76)  have  been 
stated,  even  recently,  to  present  tliis  nlienomenon  ;  but  it  is  not 
impossible  that  tlie  observations  are  defective.  The  only  approacli 
to  a  r.ipid  breaking  up  into  spores  is  the  multiple  formation  (eight) 
of  microgoiiiJia  or  microzooids  in  Vorticellidte  (Fig.  X.XIll.  11, 
12);  othorwiso  the  result  of  the  most  recent  observations  appears  to 
be  that  the  Ciliata  multiply  only  by  binary  fission,  which  is  very 
frequent  among  them  (longitudinal  in  the  Peritricha,  transverse 
to  tne  long  axis  in  the  others). 

Several  cases  of  supposed  formation  of  spores  within  an  adult 
(filiate  and  of  the  production  endogenously  of  numerous  "aciiicti- 
form  young"  have  lieen  shown  to  bo  cases  of  parasitism,  minute 
unicelluhar  parasites,  e.g.,  parasitic  Acinetn;  (such  as  Spha;rophrya 
described  and  figured  in  Fig.  X.X  VI. )  being  mistaken  for  the  younff. 

The  phenomenon  of  conjugation  is  frequent  in  the. Ciliata,  and  ii 
either  temporary,  followed  by  a  separation  of  the  fused  individuals, 
as  in  most  cases,  or  permanent,  as  in  the  case  of  the  fertUiiation 
of  normal  individuals  oy  the  niicrogonidia  of  VorticcUldre. 

Since  the  process  of  conjugation  or  coj^ulation  is  not  followed 
by  a  formation  of  spores,  it  ia  supposed  to  have  mcrelv  n  fertilizing 
elfect  on  the  temporarily  conjoined  individuals,  which  nourish 
themselves  and  multiply  by  binary  fission  more  aclivelv  after  the 
process  than  before  (hence  termed  "rejuvenescence)." 

Rcmiirkable  changes  have  liecn  from  time  to  time  observed  in 
the  nuclei  of  Ciliata  during  or  suhscquently  to  conjugation,  and 
these  were  enoneously  intcipretcd  by  Balbinni  (73)  as  indicalii.','{ 
the  formation  of  spermatozoa  and  ova.  The  nuclei  exhibit  at  one 
period  great  elongation  and  a  distinct  fibrillation,  as  in  tho  dividiug 


864 


PROTOZOA 


nuclei  of  tissue  cells  (compare  Fig.  I.  and  Fig.  XXV.  9,  11,  IT). 
The  fibrillre  were  supposed  to  be  spermntozoids,  and  this  erroneous 
view  was  confirmed  by  the  observation  of  rod-lilce  Bacteria 
(Schizomycetes)  which  in  some  instances  infest  the  deeper  proto- 
plasm of  large  Ciliata. 

The  true  history  of  the  clianges  which  occur  in  the  nuclei  of 
conjugating  Ciliata  has  been  determined  liy  Biitschli  (74)  in  some 
typical  instances,  but  the  matter  is  by  no  means  completely  under- 
stood. The  phenomena  present  very  great  obstacles  to  satis- 
factory examination  on  account  of  their  not  recurring  very  fre- 
queuUy  and  passing  very  rapidly  from  one  phase  to  another. 
They  nave  not  been  closely  observed  in  a  sufficiently  varied 
number  of  genera  to  warrant  a  secure  generalization.  The  follow- 
ing scheme  of  the  changes  passed  through  by  the  nuclei  must  be 
regarded  as  necessarily  referring  to  only  a  few  of  the  larger 
Heterotricha,  Holotricha,  and  H)'potricha,  and  is  only  probably 
true  in  so  far  as  details  are  concerned,  even  for  them.  It  is  at 
the  same  time  certain  that  some  such  series  of  changes  occurs  in 
all  Ciliata  as  the  sequence  of  conjugation. 

In  most  of  the  Ciliata  by  the  side  of  the  large  oblong  nucleus  is  a 
gecond  smaller  body  (or  even  two  such  bodies)  which  has  been  very 
objectionably  termed  the  nucleolus  (Fig.  XXV.  8),  but  is  better 
called  the  "  paranucleus  "  siuce  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  nucle- 
olus of  a  typical  tissue-cell.  .When  conjugation  or;curs  and  a 
"syzygium"  is  formed,  both  nucleus  and  paranucleus  in  each  ■con- 
jugated animal  elongate  and  show  fibrillar  structure  (Fig.  XXV., 
10).  Each  nucleus  and  paranucleus  now  divides  into  two,  so  that 
we  get  two  nuclei  and  two  paranuclei  in  each  animal.  Elongation 
and  fibrillation  are  then  exhibited  by  each  of  these  now  elements 
and  subsequently  fission,  so  that  we  get  four  nuclei  and  four  para- 
nuclei in  each  animal  (11,  12).  The  fragments  of  the  original 
nucleus  (marked  N  in  the  figures)  now  become  more  dispersed  and 
broken  into  further  irregular  fragments.  Possibly  some  oi  them 
are  ejected  (so-called  "cell  excrement");  possibly  some  pass  over 
from  one  animal  to  the  other.  Two  of  the  pieces  of  the  four-times- 
divided  paranucleus  now  reunite  (Fig.  aXV.  13),  and  form  a 
largish  body  which  is  the  new  nucleus.  The  remaining  fragments 
of  paranucleus  and  the  broken  down  nucleus  now  gradually  dis- 
appear, and  probably  as  a  remnant  of  them  we  get  finally  a  few  cor- 
puscles which  unite  to  form  the  new  paranucleus  (14,  15).  The 
conjugated  animals  which  have  separated  from  one  another  before 
the  later  stages  of  this  process  are  thus  reconstituted  as  normal 
Ciliata,  each  with  its  nucleus  and  paranucleus.  They  take  food 
and  divide  by  binary  fission  until  a  new  period  of  conjugation 
arrives,  when  the  same  history  is  supposed  to  recur. 

The  significance  of  the  phenomena  is  entirely  obscure.  It  is  not 
known  why  there  should  be  a  paranucleus  or  what  it  may  correspond 
to  in  other  cells — whether  it  is  to  be  regarded  simply  as  a  second 
nucleus  or  as  a  structurally  and  locally  differentiated  part  of  an 
ordinary  cell-nucleus,  the  nucleus  .and.  the  paranucleus  together 
being  the  complete  equivalent  of  such  an  ordinary  nucleus.  An 
attempt  has  been  made  to  draw  a  parallel  between  this  process  and 
the  essential  features  of  the  process  of  fertilization  (fusion  of  the 
spermatic  and  ovicell  nuclei)  in  higher  animals;  but  it  is  the  fact 
that  concerning  neither  of  the  phenomena  compared  have  we  as  yet 
sufficiently  detailed  knowledge  to  enable  us  to  judge  conclusively  as 
to  how  far  any.  comparison  is  possible.  Whilst  there  is  no  doubt 
as  to  the  temporary  fusion  and  admixture  of  the  protoplasm  of  the 
conjugating  Ciliata,  it  does  not  appear  to  be  established  that  there 
is  any  transference  of  nuclear  or  paranuclear  matter  from  one  indi- 
vidual to  the  other  in  the  form  of  solid  formed  particles. 

Conjugation  resulting  merely  in  rejuvenescence  and  ordinary  fis- 
eive  activity  is  observed  in  many  Flagellata  as  well  as  in  the  Ciliata. 

A  noteworthy  variation  of  the  process  of  binary  fission  occurring 
in  the  parasite  Opalina  deserves  distinct  notice  here,  since  it  is  inter- 
mediate in  character  between  ordinary  binary  fission  and  tliat 
multiple  fission  which  so  commonly  in  Protozoa  is  known  as  spore- 
formation.  In  Opalina  (Fig.  XXIV.  4)  the  nucleus  divides  as  the 
animal, grows  ;  and  we  find  a  great;  number  of  regularly  disposed 
Separate  nuclei  in  its  protoplasm,  (The  nuclei  of  many  other 
Ciliata  have  recently  been  shown  to  exhibit  extraordinary  branched 
»nd  even  "fragmented"  forms;  compare  Fig.  XXIV.  2.)  At  a  certain 
Stage  of  growth  binary  fission  of  the  whole  animal  sets  in,  and  growth 
ceases.^  Consequently  the  products  of  fission  become  smaller  and 
Bmaller  (Fig.  XXIV.  6).  At  last  the  fragments  contain  each  but 
two,  three,  or  four  nuclei.  Each  fragment  now  becomes  encased 
In  a  spherical  cyst  (Fig.  XXIV.  7).  If  this  process  had  occurred 
tapidly,  we  should  have  had  a  uninucleate  Opalina.  breaking  up 
at  once  into  fragments  (as  a  Gregarina  does),  each  fragment  being 
6.  spore  and  enclosing  itself  in  a  spore-case.  The  Opalina  ranarum 
lives  in  the  rectum  of  the  Frog,  and  the  encysted  spores  are 
formed  in  the  early  part  of  the  year.  They  pass  out  into  the 
water  and  undergo  no  change  unless  swallowed  by  a  Tadpole,  in 
the  intestine  of  which  they  forthwith  develop.  From  each  spore- 
case  escapes  a  uninucleate  embryo  (Fig.  XXIV.  8),  which  absorbs 
nourishment  and  grows.  As  it  grows  its  nucleus  divides,  and  so 
tha  large  multinucleate  form  from  which  we  started  is  reattaincd. 


LCILIATA. 

This  history  has  important  bearingc,  not  only  on  the  nature  of 
sporulation,  but  also  on  the  question  of  the  significance  of  th» 
multinucleate  condition  of  cells.  Here  it  would  seem  that  the 
formation  of  many  nuclei  is  merely  an  anticipation  of  the  retardeit 
fissive  process. 

It  is  questionable  how  far  we  are  justified  in  closely  associating: 
Opalina,  in  view  of  its  peculiar  nuclei,  with  the  other  Ciliata.  It 
seems  certain  that  the  worm -parasites  sometimes  called  Opalina;,  but 
more  correctly  Anaplophrya,  &c.,  h.ive  no  special  affinity  with  the 
true  Opalina.  They  not  only  differ  from  it  in  haWng  one  large 
nucleus,  but  in  liaving  numerous  very  active  contractile  vacuoles 
(75). 

Kecently  it  has  been  shown,  more  especially  by  Gruber  (84),  that- 
many  Ciliata  are  multinucleate,  and  do  not  possess  merely  a  single 
nucleus  and  a  paranucleus.  In  Oxytricha  the  nuclei  are  large  ami 
numerous  (about  forty),  scattered  through  the  protoplasm,  whilst 
in  other  cases  tha  nucleus  is  so  finely  divided  as  to  appear  like  a. 
powder  or  dust  diffused  uniformly  through  the  meduUajy  proto- 
plasni  (Trachelocerca,  Choenia).  Carmine  staining,  after  treatment 
with  absolute  alcohol,  has  led  to  this  remarkable  discovery.  Thei 
condition  described  by  Foettinger  (85)  in  his  Opalinopsis  (Fig. 
XXIV.  1,  2)  is  an  example  of  this  pulverization  of  the  nucleus.  The? 
condition  of  pulverization  had  led  in  some  cases  to  a  total  failure 
to  detect  any  nucleus  in  the  living  animal,  and  it  was  only  by  the 
use  of  reagents  that  the  actual  state  of  the  case  was  revealed. 
Curiously  enough,  the  pulverized  nucleus  appears  periodically  to 
form  itself  by  a  union  of  the  scattered  particles  into  one  solid 
nucleus  just  before  binary  fission  of  the  animal  takes  place  ;  and 
on  the  completion  of  fission  the  nuclei  in  the  two  new  individuals 
break  up  into  little  fragments  as  before.  The  significance  of  this 
observation  in  relation  to  the  explanation  of  the  proceedings  of  the 
nuclei  during  conjugation  cannot  be  overlooked.  It  also  leads  to 
the  suggestion  that  the  animal  cell  may  at  one  time  in  the  history 
of  evolution  have  possessed  not  a  single  solid  nucleus  but  a  finely 
molecular  powder  of  chromatin-substance  scattered  uniformly 
through  its  protoplasm,  as  we  find  actually  in  the  living  Trachelo- 
cerca. 

Some  of  the  Ciliata  (notably  the  common  Vorticellse)  have  been 
observed  to  enclose  themselves  in  cysts  ;  but  it  does  not  appear  that 
these  are  anything  more  than  "  hypnocysts  "  from  which  tlie  anininl 
emerges  unchanged  after  a  period  of  drought  or  deficiency  of  food. 
At  the  same  time  there  are  observations  which  seem  to  indicate  that 
in  some  instances  a  process  of  spore-formation  may  occur  within 
such  cysts  (76). 

The  differentiation  of  the  protoplasm  into  cortical  and  medul- 
lary substance  is  very  strongly  marked  in  the  larger  Ciliata. 
The  food-particle  is  carried  down  the  gullet  by  ciliary  currents 
and  is  forced  together  with  an  adherent  drop  of  water  into  the 
medullary  protoplasm.  Here  a  slow  rotation  of  the  successively 
formed  food-vacuoles  is  observed  (Fig.  XXV.  2,  I,  ni,  n,  o),  the 
water  being  gradually  removed  as  the  vacuole  advances  in  position. 
It  was  the  presence  of  numerous  successively  formed  vacuoles  which 
led  Ehrenberg  to  apply  to  the  Ciliata  the  not  altogether  inappro- 
priate name  "  Polygastrica. "  The  chemistry  of  the  digestive  pro- 
cess has  not  been  successfully  studied,  but  A.  G.  Bourne  (8)  has 
shown  that,  when  particles  stained  with  water-soluble  aniliii  blue 
are  introduced  as  food  into  a  Vorticella,  the  colouring  matter  is 
rapidly  excreted  by  the  contractile  vacuole  in  a  somewhat  concen- 
trated condition. 

The  differentiation  of  the  protoplasm  of  Ciliata  in  some  special 
cases  as  "muscular"  fibre  cannot  be  denied.  The  contractile 
filament  in  the  stalk  of  Vorticella  is  a  muscular  fibre  and  not 
simple  undifferentiated  contractile  protoplasm  ;  that  is  to  say,  its 
change  of  dimensions  is  definite  and  recurrent,  and  is  not  rhythmic, 
as  is  the  flexion  of  a  cilium.  (Perhaps  in  ultimate  analysis  it  is 
impossible  to  draw  a  sharp  line  between  the  contraction  of  one  side 
of  a  cilium  which  causes  its  flexion  and  the  rhythmical  contraction 
of  some  muscular  fibres.)  The  movements  of  the  so-called  "  sett's  " 
of  the  Hypotricha  are  also  entitled  to  bo  called  "muscular,"  as 
are  also  the  general  contractile  movements  of  the  cortical  substance 
of  large  Ciliata.  Haeckel  (77)  has  endeavoured  to  distinguish 
various  layers  in  the  cortical  substance;  but,  whilst  admitting  that, 
as  in  the  Gregarinje,  there  is  sometimes  a  distinct  fibrillation  of 
parts  of  this  layer,  we  cannot  assent  to  the  general  distinction  of  a 
"  myopliane"  layer  as  a  component  of  the  cortical  sulotance. 

Beneath  the  very  delicate  cuticle  which,  as  a  mere  superficial 
pellicle  of  extreme  tenuity,  appears  to  exist  in  all  Ciliata  we 
frequently  find  a  layer  of  minute  oval  sacs  which  contain  a  spiral 
thread  ;  the  threads  are  everted  from  the  sacs  when  irritant 
reagents  are  applied  to  the  animal  (Fig.  XXV.  2,  g,  A).  These 
were  discovered  by  Allman  (78),  and. by  him  were  termed  "  tricho- 
cysts."  They  appear  to  be  identica'l  in  structure  and  mode  of 
formation  with  the  nematocysts  of  the  Cielentera  and  I'latyhelniia. 
Similar  trichocysts  (two  only  in  number)  are  foui:d  in  the  spores 
of  the  Jlyxosporidia  (see  ante,  page  855). 

The  comparative  forms  of  the  nucleus  and  of  the  contractile 
vacuoles,  as  well  as  of  the  general  bouj'-form.  &c.,  of  Ciliata  may 


ACINETARIA.] 

be  lesTnt  from  an  examination  of  Figs.  XXIII.,  XXIV.,  XXV., 
and  the  explanations  appended  to  them. 

Class  VI.  ACDJETABIA,  L^nkesier  {Tmtaculifera,  Hu.x]ey). 

Charcuters. — Highly  specialized  Corticate  Protozoa,  probably 
derived  from  Ciliata,  since  tlieir  young  forms  are  provided  with  a 
more  or  less  complete  investment  of  cilia.  They  are  distinguished 
by  having  no  vibratile  processes  on  the  surface  of  the  body  iu  the 
adult  condition,  whilst  they  have  few  or  many  delicate  but  firm 


PROTOZOA 


865 


no.  XXVI.— Acinetana.  l.  Ji/iiinrhetaeiiclopiim.ZcnVer.  a,  nnclena; 
*,  contractilo  vacuole ;  only  n  slnulo  tontaclo,  anil  that  mictorial ;  x  :60. 
Parasitic  on  Cyclops,  2.  Si'h.rropftrj/a  \irosiyLr,   Miiupaii  :  normal 

adult;  X  200.  a,  nucleus;  6,  contractilo  vncuolo.  Tarasitic  in  Urojlyla. 
3.  The  same  dividing  i)y  traii!«er»o  llnalon,  tho  anterior  molcly  with  tem- 
porarily developed  *,..'fc.  a,  nucleus;  6,  contractile -vacuole.  4,  l>,  0." 
SphHrophrt/a  ttentorea,  Maupaa ;  x  200.  rarnaitic  Id  Steutor,  and  at  ono 
ttine  mbtakon  for  Us  voung.  7.  TrUhophrya  rpistytidis  CI.  and  L. ; 
X  150.     a,  nucleus;  &r  contractilo  vacuole.             9.  Iffnuophrya  ff^nmi- 

Earn,  Hcrtwlg;  x  400.      Example  with  six  buds,  Into  each  ot  which  a 
ranch  ot  tho  nucleus  a  la  extended.  0.  Tho  same  species,  showing 

the  two  kinds  of  tcntaolos  (the  suctorial  and  tho  pointed),  and  tho  con- 
tractile vacuoles  b.  10.  Ciliated  embryo  ot  I'odophrya  Strinii,  CI.  and 
L.:  X  SOO.  11.  Aeinela  ip-andii,  .Savlllo  Kent;  x  100  ;  shoulng  pcilun- 
onlatcd  lorlca,  and  animal  with  two  hunches  ot  entirely  suctorial  lontnclca. 
■,  Bucleu*.           12.  Sp/uenvhrya  magna,  Maupaa;  x  300.    U  liaa  srUeJ 


with  its  tentacles,  and  la  In  the  act  of  sucking  out  the  juices  of  six  examples 
of  tho  ciliate  Cotpoda  parvi/rom.  Vi.  Podopkr^ja  cluiigata,  CI.  and  L.; 

X  150.    a,  nucleus;  6,  contractilo  vacuole.  14.  Ucmiophrya  Bentdenii, 

Fraip.;  x  200;  the  suctorial  tentacles  retracted.  15.  VeiidrocomtUt 

paradoxus.  Stein;  x  350.  Parasitic  on  Gammarus  pxilex.  a,  nucleus: 
b,  contractile  vacuole ;  c,  captured  prey.  16.    A  single  tentacle  cf 

Podophrya;  X  800.    (Savilie  Kent.)  17-20.  Cejufronoma  rodiaiK,  Ehr. : 

— 17,  free-swimming  ciliated  embryo,  x  000  ;  18,  earliest  fixed  condition  ol 
the  embryo,  x  600  ;  19,  later  stage,  a  single  tentacuUferous  process  now 
developed,  X  600;  20,  adult  colony;  e,  enclosed  ciliated  embryos;  d, 
branching  stolon;  e,  more  minute  reproductive  (?)  bodies,  2\.OphTyo- 

dendron  pediceUattim, 'E.iKfiki  ;  x  300. 

tentacle-like  processes,  which  are  either  simply  adhesive  or  tubular 
and  suctorial.  In  the  latter  case  they  are  provided  at  their  ex- 
tremity with  a  sucker-disk  and  hav& contractile  walls,  whereas  in 
the  former  case  they  have  more  or  less  pointed  extremities.  The 
Acinetaria  are  sedentary  in  habit,  even  if  not,  as  is  usual,  per- 
manently fixed  by  a  stalk.  The  nucleus  is  frerjuently  avboiiform. 
Reproduction  is  effected  by  simple  binary  fission,  and  by  a  modified 
fission  (bud-fission)  by  which  (as  in  Reticulaiia  and  Arcell.i)  a 
number  of  small  bud-like  warts  containing  a  portion  of  the  branched 
parental  nucleus  are  nipped  off  from  the  parent,  often  simul- 
taneously (Fig.  XXVI.  8).  These  do  not  become  altogether  dis- 
tinct, but  are  for  a  time  enclosed  by  the  parental  cell  each  io.a 
sort  of  vacuole  or  brood-ehamlier,  where  the  young  Aciuetariaii 
develops  a—coat  or  band  of  cilia  and  then  escapes  from  the  body  of 
its  parent  (Fig.  XXVI.  10, 17).  After  a  brief  locomotive  existence, 
it  becomes  sedentary,  develops  its  tentacles,  and  loses  its  cilia. 

The  Acinetaria  have  one  or  inore  contractile  vacuoles.  Their 
nutrition  is  holozoie. 

The  surface  of  the  body  in  some  cases  is  covered  only  by  a 
delicate  cuticle,  but  in  other  cases  a  definite  membranous  shell  pr  cup 
(often  stalked)  is  produced.  Freshwater  and  marine.  See  Fraipont 
(89). 

Order  1.  SUCTORIA,  Kent. 

A  greater  or  less  proportion  or  often  all  of  the  tentacles  are 
suctorial  and  terminated  with  suckei-liko  expansions. 

Genera. — RhynchHa,  Zenker  (stalkless,  naked,  with  only  one 
tentacle  ;  epizoic  on  Cyclops  ;  Fig.  XXVI.  1)  ;  Urnula,  C.  and  L.  : 
Sphmrophrya,  C.  and  L.  (naked,  spherical,  with  distinctly  capitate 
tentacles  only  ;  never  with  a  peilicle ;  parasitic  within  Ciliata, 
supposed  young  ;  Fig.  XXVI.  2-6,  12) ;  Tvichopkri/a,  C.  and  L.  (as 
Spharophrya,  but  oblong  and  temporarily  fixed  without  a  pedicle); 
Fodophr-yn,  Ehr.  (naked,  solitary,  globose,  ovate  or  elongate,  fixed 
by  a  pedicle ;  tentacles  all  suctorial,  united  in  fascicles  or  distri- 
buted irregularly;  Fig.  XXVI.  10,  13, 16) ;  Hcmiophnja,  S.  Kent  (as 
Podophrya,  but  tho  tentacles  are  of  the  two  kinds  indicated  in  the 
definition  of  tho  group;  Fig.  XXVI.  8,  9,  \i);  Podocyathm,  S.  Kent 
(secreting  and  inhabiting  stalked  membranous  Clips  or  loricje  ;  ten- 
tacles of  tho  two  kinds) ;  Solenophrya,  C.  and  L.  (with  a  sessile 
lorica ;  tentacles  only  suctorial) ;  Acineta,  Ehr.  (as  Solenophrya, 
but  the  lorica  is  supported  on  a  pedicle;  Fig.  XXVI.  11);  Dendro- 
camefes,  Stein  (cuticle  indurated ;  solitary,  sessile,  discoid  ;  tentacles 
peculiar,  viz.,  not  contractile,  more  or  less  branched,  root-like,  and 
perforated  at  the  extremities  and  suctorial  in  function  ;  Fig. 
XXVI.  l.'i).  Dendrosoma,  Ehr.  (forming  colonics  of  intimately 
fused  individuals,  with  a  basal  adherent  protoplasmic  stolon  ami 
upstanding  branches  the  termination  (jf  which  bear  numerous  capi- 
tate suctorial  tentacles  only  ;  Fig.  XXVI.  17-20). 

Order  2.  NON-SUCTORIA,  Lankester  (-Acti'naria,  Kent). 

Cftaraefars.— Tentacles  filiform,  prehensile,  not  provided  with  a 
sucker. 

Genera. — Ephc'ota,  Str.  Wright  (solitary,  naked,  pedunculate, 
with  many  flexible  inversiblo  tentacles)  ;  Adinocyathtis,  S.  Kent  ; 
Ophryodendron,  C.  and  L.  (sessile,  with  a  long,  extensile,  anterior 
proboscis  bearing  numerous  flexible  tentacles  at  its  distal  exticniity  ; 
Fig.  XXVI.  21);  Aciiutopsis,' ^o\)'m  (ovate,  solitaiy,  secreting  a 
stalked  lorica  ;  fiom  the  anterior  extremity  of  tho  animal  i.'"  deve- 
loped a  proboscis-like  organ  which  does  not  bear  tentacles). 

Further  remarks  on  the  Acinetaria. — Tho  independcnc»  of  tho 
Acinetaria  was  threatened  some  years  ago  by  tho  erroneous  view  of 
Stein  (79)  that  they  were  pha.ses  in  the  life-histoiy  of  Vorticcllidu-. 
Small  parasitic  for^MS  (.Sphn^iophrya)  were  also  until  recently 
regarded  erroneously  as  the  "acinclifoim  young"  of  Ciliata. 

i'hey  now  must  bo  regarded  as  an  extienio  modification  of  the 
Protozoon  series,  in  which  tho  differentiation  of  organs  in  a 
unicellular  animal  reaches  its  highost  point.  Tho  Buckcrtcntaclet 
of  tho  Suctoria  aro  very  elaborately  constructed  organs  (see  Fig. 
X.WI.  16).  They  are  ellicient  means  of  seizing  and  extracting  the 
juices  of  another  Protozoon  which  serves  as  food  to  tbo  Aeinetarian. 
Tlio  structuro  of  Dendrosoma  is  remarkable  on  account  of  its 
multicellular  character  and  tho  elaborate  diffcrontiation  of  tl»e 
reproduetivo  bodies. 

fho  ciliation  of  the  embryos  or  young  forms  developed  from  tho 
buds  of  Acinetaria  is  an  indication  of.  their  ancestral  connexion 
with  the  Ciliata.  Tho  cilia  are  dilfcrently  disposed  on  the  young 
of  tho  various  genera  (sec  Fig.  XXVI.  10,  17). 

XIX    — 


86« 


P  PI  0  — P  R  0 


iSibliogrnphy.^V)  Haeckel  (Protista),  *'Mnnnjraphle  der  Mohcrcn," 
jfuniscfic  Zciiscfir.,  i\'.,  ISiiS.  (2)  Dcjauuix  (Sarcodt).  "Obsen-ntions  sur  Ics 
organisnics  infL-rieures,"  Arinales  dei  Sciences  SValurcHes,  lS3i,  2J  seiius,  vol. 
iv.  (3)  ScHiiiTZ  (nucleus  of  yeast),  Sitzb.  d.  rtiederrhein,  GcfeUscb.,  Augu^J 
1S7D.  (4)  Flkmmisg  (KaryokJnesis),  Vircliow'a  Archil',  IxTviU  IS79.  (5) 
Brandt  (chlorophyll  in  nnimals),  SHz>mgsbericbt  der  Ofsetlsch.  yatar/orsc/i. 
Fi-eunde  zn  Berlin,  No.  fi,  1881.  (6)  Meczsikow  (phagocytes),  Arbeitni  .a.  d. 
Zodog.  Instit.  Wien,  1883,  and  Bioiogiiches  Cenlralblati.  NovemU-r  ISS-3,  both 
translated  in  Quari.  Jour.  Mia:  Sci.,  January  1864.  (7)  Kxcelman-n  (proto- 
plasm) in  Hermann's  Handicorlerb.  der  Phfsiologie,  transliitcd  in  the  (inart. 
Jour,  of  Mier.  Sci.,  July  I8SI.  (8)  Boubke  (excretion  by  contractile  vacuole) 
in  translation  of  (7),  Quart.  Jour.  Afia:  Sci.,  1884,  p.  37S'  (9>  Bvtschli  (Pro- 
tozoa), in  Bronn's  Classen  u.  Ordnuugeii  dts  Thierreichs  (Pmiozoa,  1883,  in  pro- 
(rrcs!-),  (10)  'Hlwlet  (classification  of  Protozoa),  A  Mauual  of  the  Anc^tomyjoj 
tnvertebrattd  Animals,  1877. p.  7(5.  (ll)  Schultzk,  F.  E.  (nuclei  of  Foraminifera) 
"Rhizopiidensludien,"  Aixltio  /.  Afikros.  A7tat.,  IS7il-7"»-77.  <12)  Hertwig,  R. 
(nuclei  of  Foramiiifcia),  Jenaisdie  2eitscJiri/i,  x.,  1S76.  (13)  Zopf  (iFycctozoa), 
Encykiop.  der  Salunciismsch.,  Abtheilung  i.,  Lieferung.  S9-41j  1SS4.  (14) 
LAXKtSTEit,  K,  Rat  (Arcliciina),  Quart.  Jour.  Micr.  Set.,  January  1SS5.  (15) 
ClENKOusKi  (Vampyrcllii),  Arc/iiv  f.  Mikrof^k.  Auatomte.  vol,  i.  p.  218.  (16) 
Herhvig,  R..  and  Lksskr  (Lcptophrj-s)  Archie/.  Jtfikrosk.-Anat.,  x.,  Supplement, 
1874.  (17)  SoROKiM  (BursuUa),  Aiitiales  des  Sciences  Naturelles  (Botanique), 
1876.  p.  40.  (18)  CiEXKOWSKi  (Kiiteromyxa),  cited  in  (13)  by  Zopf,  p.  114.  (19) 
CiF.NKowsKi  (Culpndella),  "Beitiiise  znr  Kennrniss  der  Monaden,"  Arehiv  f. 
Mikrofk.  Anal.,  vol.  i.  (20)  Cienkowski  (Pseudospova),  same  as  (l8).  (21) 
WoRONis  (Plasmoiliophora),  PringsUcim's  Jahrbiuher,  xi.  64S.  (22)  GuBiii. 
(Tetrainyx 6). /Vom,  Xo.  23,  ISS4.  (23)  SOROKIN  (Gloidlum),  Morphol.  Jahib., 
vol.  iv.,  1873.  (24)  Cienkowski  (Gymnophryf),  Archie/.  Mikrosk.  Atiafomie, 
vol.  xii.,  1876.  (25)  WnicriT  (Bodevia),  Jour,  of  A«al.  and  Physio'.,  vol.  I.; 
18G7.  (26)  Cienkowski  (.Vucleariii).  .tI/tAic  /,  Hikrosk.  Anntomie,  vol.  i. 
18G5,  (27)  ScHNEiutn,  Aim.  (Monobirt),  Architcs  d.  Zoolog.  ji',rperimentale, 
vol.  vii.,  1873.  (28)  Huxley  (Bathybius),  Quarl.  Jour.  ihcr.  Sci.^  vol.  vUi., 
18G8,  (29)  Bessels  (Protobathybius),  yfjmisr/ic  Zritschrt/t,  \%.\  also  Amtricnn 
.Vatttratist^  ix.  (30)  Strasburgkr  (nuclei  of  ,M\ cetozoa),  ^llbildung  wid 
Zelltheilung,  3d  ed.,  p.  70.  (31)  Fayod  (Copromvxa),  Botaa.  Ziitung,  1333,  No. 
H.  (32)  Greeff  (Pelomyxa=Pelobiiis),  Archie  /.  Mikroik.  Anatomie,  vi.,  1870. 
(33)  Blck  (Arcello,  apnre-bud  production),  Zeitsch.  tciss.  Zoologies  sxx.  (34) 
I.AWKESTER,  E.  Rat  (Lithaniceba).  Quart.  Jour.  Micr.  Sci.f  vol.  xix.,  1873. 
(35)  Cienkowski  (Labyrinthula),  Archie/.  MikroU:  Anat.,  vol.  lii.,  1S67.  p. 
274.  (36)  AiECHER  (Chlamydoniyxa),  Quart.  Jour.  Micr.  Sci,,  vol.  xv.,  1S7^. 
(37)  Cienkowski  (Nuclearia),  Archie/.  Mikrosk.  Anat.,  vol.  I.,  IS65.  (38) 
Archer  (Diaphorophodon,  Ac).  Qnart\  Jour.  Micr.  Sc/.,  vols,  ix.,  x.,  1869-70. 
(39)  SiDDALL  (Shepheai-della),  Quart.  Jour.  Micr.  Sci.,  vol.  sx.,  ISSO,  p.  loO. 
(40>  Carpkn'TER  (shell  of  OibitulJtes),  Phil.  Tixius.  Roy.  Soc.  London,  1883,  pait  ii. 
(41)  Carpenter  (Eoozoon),  Quart.  Jovr,  Geo!.  Soe.,  rv\s.  sxi.  and  xxii. ;  and 
Annals  and  Mag.  Jiat.  Hist.^  xiil.  (42)  Haeckel  (Rn^ioloiia),  Jena  ische  ^eiischr., 
sv.,  1881.  (43)  CiKSKOWSKi  (yellow  cells  of  Radiolaria),  Arehiv  /.  Mikrosk. 
Anat.,  tU.,  1871.  (44)  Brandt  (yellow  cells  of  Radiolaria),  Monntsber.  d.  Berlin 
Aead.^  1^81,  p.  388.  (45)  Geudes  (yellow  cells  of  Radiolarm),  ^'ature.  vol.  xxv., 
13S2,  p.  303.  (46)  HtRTWiG  (RatUolaiian  reproduction^  "Der  Or^anismus  der 
iladiolarien,' VenaiscAe  Denkicliri/ten,  187i) ;  also  Zur  Histologie  der  Radiolarien, 


Lcipsic.  IS7G.  (47)  LErcKATTT  (Sporozoa),  Die  mensehlirhen  Pamtdten,  23  ed,, 
1879.  (48)  SciiNEiDF.H,  AiJi.  (Orecpiriniflea),  Archives  d.  Zoologie  £jrjierim.,  1S73, 
p.  .^1%  1S75,  p.  432  and  p.  493,  IbSl,  p.  367.  (49)  Kloss  (Coccidiide  of  Helix), 
Abhaud.  d.  Senkcnbcrg.  iialur/.  GeseUsch.,  i.,  ISOO.  (50)  Lankestec,  E.  Ray 
(biepanidium).  Quart.  Jour.  Micr.  iSt;i'.,  vol.  sxii..  1S82,  p.  53.  (51)  Lieberkchs 
(Coccidinm  oi  Froc's  kidney),  Ajxhio  /,  Anat.  and  Physiolog.,  1854.  (52) 
Cir,KKowsKi  (Amoebiaium),  Botan.  Zeitung,  19  Jalirc,  ISGl,  p.  ICD.  (53)  Vos 
Lenpenfeld  (parasitic  amoeboid  orcanism).  in  Proceedings  o/  Linnean  Society  o/ 
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Hlktwio,  I{.  (Aphrothoraca),  in  Organismus  der  Radiolarien,  Jtna,  1879.  (57) 
Archer  (Clilan'.ydophora)»  "Resume',  Ac,"  Quart,  Jour^  Mtcr,  Sci.^  vol.  xrJ., 
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Zeitsehr.,  x.  (61)  BEs^iE^.s  (Astrorhiza),ye/iaiscAe  Zeitschr.,  ix.  (62)  Cakpestee 
(classification  of  Reticulaiia),  "Researches  on  the  Foramiuifera,"  Phil.  Trans.^ 
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Lankestkr,  E.  Rat  (term  Corticalftl,Picfai.e  to-the  English  edlilonof  Gegenbaur'a 
Elements  o/  Comparative  Anatomy,  1878.  (65)  Cienkowski  (Ciliophrys).  Arcfiio 
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FROUDHON,  Pierre  Joseph  (1809-1665),  a  well- 
known  revolutionary  writer^  was  born  in  1S09  at  Besangon, 
France,  tke  native  place  also  of  tte  p.ocialist  Fourier.  His 
origin  was  of  the  humblest,  his  father  being  a  brewer's 
cooper ;  and  the  boy  herded  cows  and  followed  other 
simple  ijursuits  of  a  like  nature.  But  he  was  not  entirely 
self-educated^  at  Bisteen  he  entered  the  college  of  his 
native  place,  though  his  family  was  so  poor  that  he  could 
not  procure  the  necessary  books,  and  had  to  borrow  them 
from  his  mates  in  order  to  copy  the  lessons.  There  ie  a 
story  of  the  young  Froudhon  returning  -home  laden  with 
prizes,  but  to  find  that  there  was  no  dinner  for  him.  At 
nineteen  he  became .  a  working  compositor ;  afterwards 
he-rose  \o  be  a  corrector  for  the  press,  reading  proofs  of 
ecclesiastical  works,  and  thereby  acquiring  a  very  compet- 
ent knowledge  of  theology.  In  this  way  also  he  came  to 
learn  Hebrew,  and  to  compare  it  with  Greek,  Latin,  and 
French ;  and  it  was  the  first  proof  of  his  intellectual 
audacity  that  on  the  strength  of  this  he  wrote  an  "Essai 
de  gi'ammaire  gendrale."  As  Proudhon  knew  nothing 
whatever  of  the  true  principles  of  philology,  his  treatise 
was  of  no  value.  In  1838  he  obtained  the  pension 
Suardj  a  bursary  of  1500  francs  a  year  for  three  years,  for 
the  encouragement  of  young  men  of  promise,  which  was 
in  the  gift  of  the  academy  of  Besangon.  In  1839  he 
wrote  a  treatise  "  On  the  Utility  of  Keeping  the  Sunday," 
which  contained  the  germs  of  "his  revolutionary  ideas. 
About  this  time  he  went  to  Paris,  where  he  lived  a  poor, 
ascetic,  ancl  studious  life, — making  acquaintance,  however, 
with  the  socialistic  ideas  which  were  then  fomenting  in 
the  capital.  In  1840  he  published  his  first  work  Qu'est-ce 
que  la  Froprietcl  His  famous  answer  to  this  question, 
"La  propriety,  c'est  le  vol,"  naturally  did  not  please  the 
academy  of  Besangon,  and  there  was  some  talk  of  with- 
drawing \\\^  pe^i^ir-n  \  but  he  held  it  for  the  regular  period. 


For  his  third  memoir  on  property,  which  took  the  shape 
of  a  letter  to  the  Fourierist,  M.  Gonsiderant,  he  was  tried 
at  Besancon  but  was  acquitted.  In  184-6  he  published 
his  greatest  work,  the  S^steme  des  Contradictions  iconomi 
ques  oil  Philosophie  de  la  Misere.  For  some  time  Proud 
hon  carried  on  a  small  printing  establishment  at  Besancon, 
but  without  success ;  afterwards  he  became  connected  as 
a  kind  of  manager  with  a  commercial  firm  at  Lyons. 
In  1847  he  left  this  employment,  and  finally  settled  in 
Paris,  where  he  was  now  becoming  celebrated  as  a  leader 
of  innovation.  He  regretted  the  sudden  outbreak  of  the 
revolution  of  Februar}'  (184S),  because  it  found  the  social 
reformers  unprepared.  But  he  threw  himself  with  ardour 
into  the  conflict  of  opinion,  and  soon  gained  a  national 
notoriety.  He  wr£  the  moving  spirit  of  the  JRepresentant 
dii  Fetiple  and  other  journals,  in  which  the  most  advanced 
theories  were  advocated  in  the  strongest  language  ;  and  as 
member  of  assembly  for  the  Seine  department  he  brought 
for^vard  his  celebrated  proposal  of  exacting  an  impost 
t)f  one-third  on  interest  and  rent,  which  of  course  was 
rejected.  His  attempt  to  found  a  bank  which  should 
operate  by  granting  gratuitous  credit  was  also  a-completc 
failure;  of  the  five  million  francs  which  he  required  only 
seventeen  thousand  v.ero  offered.  The  violence  of  his 
utterances  led  to  an  imprisonment  at  Paris  for  three  years, 
during  which  he  married  a  young  working  woman.  As 
Proudhon  aimed  at  economic  rather  than  political  innova- 
tion, he  had  no  special  quarrel  with  the  second  empire, 
and  he  lived  in  comparative  quiet  under  it  till  the  publica- 
tion of  his  work,  De  la  Jtistice  daiis  la  Revolution  et  daiis 
VEglise  (1858),  in  which  he  attacked  the  church  and  other 
existing  institutions  with  unusual  fury.  This  time  he 
fled  to  Brussels  to  escape  imprisonment.  On  his  return 
to  France  his  health  broke  down,  though  he  continued  to 
write.     He  died  at  Passy  in  18G5. 


r  11  o  —  p  K  o 


b(37 


I'ei-soually  Proudhon  was  oiio  of  tho  most  remarkable  figures  of 
hioderu  France.  His  life  was  marked  by  the  severest  simplicity 
and  even  Puritanism  ;  he  was  nll'cctionate  in  his  domestic  relations, 
n  most  loyal  friend,  and  strictly  upright  in  conduct.  Ho  was  I 
strongly  o]iposed  to  the  inevailiiig  French  socialism  of  liis  time 
because  of  its  utopiaiiism  and  immorality  ;  and,  tho'.igh  he  uttered 
a\t  manner  of  wild  paradox  and  vehement  invective  ogaiust  tho 
dominant  ideas  and  institutions,  he  was  remarkably  free  from  feel- 
ings of  personal  hatfr.  In  all  that  he  said  and  did  he  was  the  son  of 
tho  people,  who  had  not  been  broken  to  the  usual  sotial  and  academic 
discipline ;  hence  his  roughness,  his  one-sidedness,  and  his  exaggera- 
tions ;  but  ho  is  always  vigorous,  and  often  brilliant  and  original. 

It  would  of  course  bo  impossible  to  reduce  the  ideas  of  such  on 
irregular  thinker  to  systematic  form.  In  later  years  Proudhon  him- 
self confessed  that  "the  great  part  of  his  publications  formed 
only  a  work  of  dissection  and  ventilation,  so  to  speak,  by  means  of 
which  he  slowly  makes  his  way  towards  a  superior  conception  of 
political  and  economic  laws."  Y«t  the  groundwork o£  his  teaching 
13  clear  and  firm  ;  no  one  could  insist  with  greater  emphasis  on  the 
demonstrative  character  of  economic  principles  as  understood  by 
himself.  He  strongly  beliered  in  the  absolute  truth  of  a  few  moral 
ideas,  with  which  it  was  the  aim  of  his  teaching  to  mould  and 
suffuse  political  economy.  Of  these  fundamental  ideas,  justice, 
liberty,  and  equality  were  the  chief.  What  ho  desiderated,  for 
instance,  in  nn  ideal  society  was  the  most  perfect  equality  of 
remuneration.  It  was  his  principle  that  service  jiays  service,  that 
a  day's  labour  balances  a  day's  labour — in  other  words,  that  the 
duration  of  labour  is  tho  just  measure  of  value.  He  did  not  shrink 
from  any  of  the  consequences  of  this  theory,  for  he  would  give  the 
6ame  remuneration  to  the  worst  mason  as  to  a  Phidias  ;  but  he  looks 
forward  also  to  a  period  in  human  development  when  tho  present 
inequality  in  the  talent  and  capacity  of  men  would  be  reduced  to  an 
inajipreoiable  minimum.  From  tho  great  principle  of  service  as  the 
equivalent  of  service  is  derived  his  axiom  that  property  is  the  right 
01  aubaine.  The  ouJam  was  a  stranger  not  naturalized;  and  the 
right  of  aubaine  was  the  right  in  virtue  of  which  tho  sovereign 
claimed  the  goods  of  such  a  stranger  who  had  died  in  his  territory. 
Property  is  a  right  of  tho  same  nature,  with  a  like  power  of  appro- 
priation in  the  form  of  rent,  interest,  &c.  It  reaps  witJiout 
labour,  consumes  without  producing,  and  enjoys  without  exertion. 
Proudhoii's  aim,  therefore,  was  to  realize  a  science  of  society  resting 
on  principles  of  justice,  liberty,  and  equality-  thus  understood  ;  "a 
sdence  absolute,  rigorous,  based  on  tho  nature  of  man  and  of  his 
faculties,  and  on  their  mutual  relations  ;  a  science  which  we  have 
not  to  invent,  but  to  discover."  But  he  saw' clearly  that  such 
ideas  with  their  necessary  accompaniments  could  only  be  realized 
througli  a  long  and  laborious  process  of  social  transformation.  As 
we  havo  said,  he  atrongly  detested  the  prurient  immorality  of  the 
schools  of  Saint-Simon  and  Fourier.  He  attacked  them  not  less 
bitterly  for  thinking  that  society  could  be  changed  off-hand  by  a 
i-eady-made  and  complete  scheme  of  reform.  It  was  "the  most 
accursed  lie,"  he  said,  "that  could  bo  offered  to  mankind."  In 
aocial  change  he  distinguishes  between  the  transition  and  the  per- 
fection or  achievement.  With  regard  to  the  transition  ho  .advocated 
tho  progressive  abolition  of  tho  right  of  aubaine,  by  reducing 
interest,  rent,  kc.  For  the  goal  he  professed  only  to  give  the 
general  principles ;  he  had  no  ready-made  scheme,  no  Utopia.  The 
positive  organization  of  the  new  society  in  its  details  was  a.  labour 
that  would  require  fifty  Montesquiens.  The  organization  lie  dciired 
was  one  on  collective  principles,  a  free  association  which  would  talvc 
account  of  tho  division  of  labour,  and  which  would  maintain  tho 
personality  both  of  the  man  and  the  citizen.  With  his  stron"  and 
lorvid  feeling  for  human  dignity  and  liberty,  Proudhon  could  not 
have  tolerated  any  theory  of  social  change  that  did  not  give  full 
Bcopo  for  tlie  free  development  of  man.  Connected  with  tJiis  was 
his  famous  paradox  of  anarchy,  as  the  goal  of  the  free  develojjmeut 
<)f  society,  by  which  he  meant  that  through  the  ethical  progress  of 
men  government  should  become  uunccessary.  "Goveinment  of 
man  by  man  in  every  form,  "  he  says,  "is  oppression.  The  higliest 
perffction  of  society  is  found  in  tho  union  of  order  and  anarch)/." 

Prouilhon's  theory  of  property  as  the  right  of  auhainc  is  substan- 
tially tho  same  as  the  theory  of  capital  held  by  Warx  and  uiost  of 
tho  later  socialists.  Property  and  capital  are  defined  and  treated  as 
the  power  of  exploiting  the  labour  of  other  men,  of  claimi«g  tho 
results  of  hibour  without  giving  an  equivalent.  Proudhon 'e  famous 
paradox,  "LapropriiSt(S|  c'cstlo  vol,"i3mercly  a  trenchant  expression 
of  this  general  principle.  As  slavery  is  assassination  inasmuch  as 
it  destroys  all  that  is  valuable  and  desirable  in  human  personality, 
80  property  is  theft  inasmuch  as  it  appropriates  tho  valiio  produced 
by  the  labour  of  others  in  the  form  of  rent,  interest,  or  profit  wiUiout 
rendering  an  equivalent.  For  property  Proudhon  would  Substitute 
individual  possession,  the  right  of  occupation  being  equal  for  all 
men  (see  SooiAi.tsM). 

The  princlp:il  works  of  Proudhon  hnvo  already  been  iTK-nllonod.  A  complcio 
rdhlon.  inchidlnft  lils  posllmmoua  writings,  wns  published  At  TjiHs,  1875.  Sec 
/'.  J.  I'roaOlwu,  ta  vie  tt  ta  corretpoiutanct,  by  Snliitc-Hru*o  (ruiia.  1870).  on 
ndn,Ii-)ih1i.  wnik,  nn1la|  ptlt-  Dot  cnm^lvte^li  nUa  lUtuf  tUt  Otvx  Xtondcn,  .lim. 
lSC:>ati<l  FvU.  ls;i.  (T.  K.)       i 


PllOUT,  Sa.vii'el  (1783-1852),  watci-colour  painter, 
was  born  at  Pijinouth  on  Seiitcmber  17,  1783.  His 
education  in  art  was  obtained  by  a  patient  and  entluisi- 
astic  study  of  nature.  Ho  spent  whole  suinnier  days,  in 
company  with  the  ill-fated  Haydon,  in'  drawing  the  qwiet 
cottages,  rustic  bridges,  and  romantic  water-inille  of  the 
beautiful  valleys  of  Devon.  He  even  made  a  journey 
through  Cornwall,  to  try  his  hand  in  furnishing  sketches 
for  Britton's  Jkauties  of  England.  On  his  removal  in 
1803  to  London,  which  became  his  headquarters  after 
1812,  a  new  scene  of  activity  opened  up  before  Prout. 
He  now  endeavoured  to  correct  and  improve  his  style 
by  the  study  of  the  works  of-  the  rising  school  of  land- 
scajje.  To  gain  a  living  he  painted  marine  pieces  for 
Falser  the  printseller,  received  pupils,  and  published 
many  drawing  books  for  learners.  He  was  likewise  one 
of  the  first  who  turned  to  account  in  his  profession  the 
newly-invented,  art  of  lithography.  In  spite  of  all  this 
industry,  however,  it  was  not  untU  about  1818  that  Prout 
discovered  his  proper  sphere.  Happening  at  that  time  to 
make  his  first  ■visit  to  the  Continent,  and  to  study  the 
quaint  streets  and  market-places  of  Continental  cities  he 
suddenly  found  himself  in  a  new  and  enclianting  province 
of  art.  All  his  faculties,  having  found  their  congentat 
element,  sprung  into  unwonted  power  and  activity.  His 
eye  readily  caught  the  picturesque  features  of  the  architec- 
ture, and  his  hand  recorded  them  with  unsurpassed  felicity 
and  fine  selection  of  line..  The  composition  of  his  draw- 
ings was  exquisitely  natural;  their  colour  exhibited  "the 
truest  and  happiest  association  in  sun  and  shade " ;  the 
picturesque  remnants  of  ancient  architecture  were  rendered 
wit)i  the  happiest  breadth  and  largeness,  with  the  heartiest 
perception  and  enjoyment  of  their  time-worii'ruggedness  ; 
and  the  solemnity  of  great  cathedrals  was  brought  out 
with  striking  effept.  Encouraged  by  this  success,  Prout 
continued  most  enthusiastically  to  pursue  that  patli  upon 
which  he  had  unex|>ectedly  come.  At  the  trmo  of  his 
death,  10th  February  1852,  there  was  scarcely  a  nook  in 
France,  Germany,  Italy,  and  the  -  Netherlands  where  his 
quiet,  benevolent,  observant  face  had  not  been  seen  seai-ch- 
ing  for  antique  gables  and  sculptured  pieces  of  stone.  In 
Venice  especially  there  w&k  hardly  a  i)illar  which  his  eyo 
had  not  lovingly  studied  and  his  pencil  had  not  dexter- 
ously copied. 

See  a  memoir  of  Prout,  by  John  Kuskin,  in  Art  Journal  for 
1849,ajid  the  same  author's  J\'<jto  mi  the  Fine  Art  Society's  Loan  Col- 
lection ef  Drawings  by  Samuel  I'roul  aud-JfiUiamUunt,  1879-SO. 

PR0ATN9AL  LANGUAGE  AND  LITERATURE. 
I.  Language. — Provenf^^al  is  a  name  used  to  compreheud 
all  the  varieties  of  Romanic  speech  formerly  spoken  and 
written,  and  still  genuraliy  used  by  country  people,  in  tho 
south  of  France.  Tho  geogrnijhical  limits  of  this  infinitely 
\'aTiod  idiom  cannot  be  defined  with  precision,  because  it  is 
conterminous  on  tho  north,  soutii,  and  east  with  idioms  of 
the  same  family,  with  which  almost  at  every  point  it  blends 
by  insensible  gradations.  Roughly  speaking,  it  may  bo 
said  to  be  contained  bet\veen  the  Atlantic  on  the  west,  tho 
Pyremses  and  Mediterranean  on  tho  south,  and  tho  Alps  on 
the  cast,  and  to  bo  bounded  on  the  north  by  a  lino  pro- 
ceeding from  the  Gironde  to  the  Alps,  and  passing  through 
the  departments  of  Gironde,  Dordogiio,  Hauto  Vienna, 
Creuse,  Allier,  Loire,  Rhone,  Isire,  and  Savoic.  Those 
limits  are  to  some  extent  conventional.  True,  they  are 
fi.xed  in  accordance  with  tho  mean  of  linguistic  characters; 
but  it  is  self-evident  that  according  to  the  importance 
attached  to  one  character  or  another  they  may  be  deter- 
mined differently. 

1.  Different  Names. — Tliough  .the  name  Provenijnl  is 
generally  adopted  to  dcsignat )  tho  Romanic  idiom  of  this 
repiou   i'  inust  not  be  sujiposotl  thii  tliis  immo  has  been 


868 


PEOVENCAL. 


{.LANGVACZ. 


imposed  by  general  consensus,  or  that  it  rests  upon  any 
very  firm  historical  basis.  In  the  southern  part  of  Gaul, 
Eomanic  developed  itself,  so  to  say,  in  the  natural  state 
of  language.  Contrary  to  what  took  place  in  other 
Romanic  countries,  no  local  variety  here  raised  itself  to  the 
rank  of  the  literary  idiom  par  excellence.  While  in  Italy 
the  Florentine,  in  France  the  French  dialect  proper  (that 
is  to  say,  the  dialect  of  the  lie  de  France),  succeeded  little 
by  little  in  monopolizing  literary  use,  to  ,the  exclusion  of 
the  other  dialects,  we  do  not  find  that  either  the  Mar- 
seillais  or  the  Toulousaiu  idiom  was  ever  spoken  or  written 
outside  of  Marseilles  or  Toulouse.  In  consequence  of  this 
circumstance,  no  name  originally  designating  the  language 
of  a  town  or  of  a  small  district  came  to  be  employed  to 
designate  the  language  of  the  whole  of  southern  France  ; 
and  on  the  other  hand  the  geographical  region  described 
above,  having  never  had  any  special  name,  was  not  able 
to  give  one  to  the  idiom. 

In  the  Middle  Ages  the  idiom  was  spoken  of  under 
various  appellations :  Bomans  or  lenga  Komana  was  that 
most  generally  used.  It  is  notably  that  employed  by  the 
authors  ,of  the  Leys  W Amors,  a  treatise  on  grammar, 
poetry,  and  rhetoric,  composed  at  Toulouse  in  the  14th 
century.  But  this  term,  which  is  capable  of  being  applied, 
and  w"hich,  in  fact,  has  been  applied,  to  each  of  the 
Romanic  languages  individually,  is  too  general  to  be 
retained.  It  is,  however,  that  which  was  revived  in  the 
beginning  of  the  present  century,  by  Eaynouard,  the 
author  of  the  Lexique  roman.  It  is  now  abandoned.  In 
the  13th  century  a  poet  born  in  Catalonia,  on  the  southern 
slope  of  the  Pyrenees,  Eaimon  Vidal  of  Besalu,  introduced 
the  name  of  Limousin  language,  probably  on  account  of 
the  great  reputation  of  some  Limousin  troubadours,  but 
he  took  care  to  define  the  expression,  which  he  extended 
beyond  its  original  meaning,  by  saying  that  in  speaking  of 
Limousin  he  must  be  understood  to  include  Saintonge, 
Quercy,  Auvergne,  &c.  {Rasos  de  trohar,  ed.  Stengel,  p.  70). 
This  expression  found  favour  in  Spain,  and  especiaUy  in 
Catalonia,  ■rt'here  the  little  treatise  of  Kaimon  Vidal  was 
extensively  read.  The  most  ancient  lyric  poetry  of  the 
Catalans  (13th  and  14th  centuries),  composed  on  the  model 
of  the  poetry  of  the  troubadours,  was  often  styled  in  Spain 
poesia  lemosina,  and  in  the  same  country  lengua  lemosina 
long  designated  at  once  the  Provencal  and  the  old  literary 
Catalan. 

The  name  Provenqtd  as  applied  to  language  is  bardly 
met  with  in  the  Middle  Ages,  except  in  the  restricted 
sense  of  the  language  of  Provence  proper,  i.e.,  of  tho 
region  lying  south  of  Dauphind  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Rhone.  Raimon  Feraut,  who  composed,  about  1300,  a 
versified  life  of  St  Honorat,  uses  it,  but  he  was  himself  a 
native  of  Provence.  We  can  also  cite  the  title  of  a  grammar, 
the  Donatz  Froensals,  by  Hugh  Faidit  (about  1250)  ;  but 
this  work  was  composed  in  north  Italy,  and  we  may  con- 
ceive that  the  Italians  living  next  to  Provence  employed  the 
name  Provengal  somewhat  vaguely  without  inquiring  into 
the  geographical  limits  of  the  idiom  so  called.  In  fact  the 
name  Provengal  became  traditional  in  Italy,  and  in  the 
beginning  of  the  16th  century  Bembo  could  write,  "Era 
per  tutto  il  Pouente  la  favella  Provenzale,  ne  tempi  ne 
quali  ella  fiori,  in  prezzo  et  in  istima  molta,  e.t  tra  tutti 
gli  altri  idiorai  di  quelle  parti,  di  gran  lunga  primiera. 
Conciosiacosa  che  ciascuuo,  o  Francese,  o  Flamingo,  o 
Guascone,  o  Borgognone,  o  altramente  di  quelle  nationi 
eke  egli  si  fosse,  il  quale  bene  scrivere  e  specialmente 
I  verseggiar  volesse,  quantunque  egli  Provenzale  uon  fosse, 
lo  faceva  Provenzalmente"  (Prose,  ed.  1529,  fol.  viii.).i 

*  "  The  Proveu9al  speecli  in  the  times  in  which  it  flourished  was 
prized  and  Tield  in  great  esteem  all  over  the  West,  and  among  all  the 
other  idionia  of  that  resiou  was  by  I'ar  the  foremost:  so  that  every  o;ie, 


This  passage,  in  which  the  primacy  oi  the  Provencal 
tongue  is  manifestly  exaggerated,  is  interesting  as  shov^ing 
the  name  Provencal  employed,  though,  with  little  pre- 
cision, in  the  sense  in  which  we  now  apply  it. 

Another  designation,  which  is  supported  by  the  great 
authority  of  Dante,  is  that  of  lang-ue  d'oc.     In  his  treatise 
De  Vulgari  Eloquio  (bk  i.  chaps,  viii.  and  ix.),  the  Floren- 
tine poet  divides  the  languages  of  Latin  origin  into  three 
idioms,  which  he   characterizes   by   the   affirmative  par- 
ticles used  in  each,  oc,  oil,   si ;   "  nam   alii   oc,  alii  oil, 
alii  si  afiirmaudo  loquuntur,  ut  puta  Hispani,  Franci,  et 
Latini."     As  is  seen,  he  attributes  the  affirmation  oc  U> 
the  Spaniards,  wliich  is  of  course  erroneous,  but  there  i* 
no  doubt  that  to  the  Spaniards  he  joined  more  correctly 
the  inh  bitants  of  southern  France,  for  in  the  Vita  nuova, 
chap.  XXV.,  he  speaks 'of  the  lingua  d^oc  as  having  been  long 
celebrated  for  its  poets,  which  can  apply  only  to  the  lan- 
guage of  the  troubadours.     The  name  langue  d'oc  occurs 
also  as  early  as  the  end  of  the  13th  century,  iu  public 
acts,  but  with  a  different  sense,  that  of  the  province  of 
Languedoc,  as  constitutecJ  after  the  union  of  the  county 
of  Toulouse  to  the  French  king's  dominion  in  1271.     Id 
the  royal  acts  of  the  end  of  the  13th  and  of  the  lltb 
century  partes  lingux  occitanx-  or  pays   de   langue   d'oc 
designates  the  union  of  the  five  seneschalates  of  Pdrigueux, 
Carcassonej  Beaucaire,  Toulouse,  and  Ehodez,  that  is  to 
say,  the  province  of  Languedoc,  such  as  it  existed  till  1790. 
Some  scholars,  following  the  example  of  Dante,  still  actually 
use  the  term  langue  d'oc  in  opposition  to  langue  d'oui,  but 
these  names  have  the  inconvenience  that  they  take  suclT  & 
secondary  fact  as  the  form  of  the  affirmative  particle  as  an 
essential  character.     Moreover  it  can  hardly  help  to  dis- 
tinguish the  other  Romanic  languages,  as  langue  de  si 
would  cause  a  confusion  between  Italian   and  Spanish. 
ProvenQal,   without  being   entirely  satisfactory,   since  ii) 
principle  it  applies  solely  to  the  language  of  Provence,  is, 
notwithstanding,  the  least  objectionable  name  that  can  be 
adopted.     In  addition  to  its  being  in  some  sort  conse- 
crated by  the  use  made  of  it  by  the  Italians,  who  were 
the  first  after  the  Renaissance  to  study  the  works  of  the 
troubadours,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that,  just  as  the 
Roman  Provincia,  in  which  the  name  originated,  extended 
across  the  south  of  Gaul  from  the  Alps  to  Toiilouse  and 
the   Pyrenees,    so   still  in   the    Middle   Ages  Provincia, 
Provinciates,  were   understood  in  a  very   wide   sense  to 
designate   not  only  Provence  strictly  so  called,  i.e.,  the 
present  departments   of  Alpes  Maritimes,   Basses   Alpes, 
Var,    Bouches  da  Rhone,    but   also  a  very  considerable 
part  of  Languedoc  and  the  adjacant  countries.     Thus  in 
the  12th  century  the  chronicler  Albert  of  Aix-la-Chapelle 
(Albertus  Aquensis)  places  the  town  of  Puy  (Haute  Loire) 
in  Provincia. 

2.  General  Characters  of  the  Language  in  its  Ancient 
State. — The  Provencal  language,  within  the  limits  above 
indicated,  cannot  be  said  to  have  any  general  characters 
really  peculiar  to  it.  Such  of  its  characters  as  are  found 
in  all  the  varieties  of  the  language  are  met  with  also  in 
neighbouring  idioms ;  such  as  are  not  found  elsewhere  are 
not  generaL  characters,  that  is  to  say,  are  manifested  only 
in  certain  varieties  of  Provencal.  In  reality  "  Provencal 
language"  does  not  designate,  properly  speaking  a  linguistic 
unity;  it  is  merely  a  geographical  expression. 

Tonic  or  Accented  Vowels. — Latin  a  is  preserved  iu  an  open 
syllable  a  mare,  amar,  am  a  turn,  aniat,  as  well  as  in  a  closed 
syllable  cam  em,  cam.  This  character  is  common  also  to  the 
Romanic  of  Spain  and  Italy;  but  it  is  cue  of  the  best  distinguish- 
ing marks  between  Provencal  and  French,  for,  to  the  north,  this 
a,  when  in  au  open  syllable,  does  not  pass  beyond  a  line  whi'di 

whether  Frenchman  Fleming,  Gascon,  Burgundian,  or  of  what  nation 
soever,  who  wished  to  WTite  and  versify  well,  nlthongli  he  Avas  gat  a 
Provcuj.il,  did  it  in  the  P'oveiigal  laii^na^e. " 


^CAjrOUAGE.] 


PKOVENCA.L 


869 


would  run  approximately  through  Blaye,  Coutras  (Gironde), 
Riberao,  Nontrou  (Dordogne),  Beilac  (Haute  Vienne),  Boussac 
(Crcuse),  Montluson,  Gaunat  (Allier),  Moiitbrison  (Loire).  Start- 
ing eastward  from  Lyons  or  thereabouts,  there"  appears  a  notable 
linguistic  fact  which  is  observable  in  vaiied  proportions  in  the 
departments  of  Ain,  Isfere,  and  Savoie,  and  in  Romanic  Switzer- 
land. This  is,  that  accented  Latin  a  in  an  open  syllable,  when 
preceded  by  a  mouillure  or  palatalization  (whatever  the  origin 
of  this),  becomes  e;  on  the  contrary,  when  there  is  no  mouillure, 
it  remains  a.  Thus  we  find  in  tlie  Meditations  of  Marguerite 
d'Oingt  (Lyons,  about  1300)  ensennier,  dclcitier,  as  against 
aesirrar,  recontar,  regardar.  Of  tlrese  two  endings,  the  former, 
-ier,  is  that  which  is  found  regularly  in  French,  the  second 
that  which  is  regular  in  Pr.  Pure  Pr.  would  have  -ar  in  both 
cases  {ensenhar,  deleitar,  dcsirrar,  tic);  Fr.  would  have  -ier 
(enseignier,  delilier)  and  ■«■  (desirer).  Prof.  Ascoli  has  given  the 
name  of  Franco-provcn<;al  (fmnco-provenzalc)  to  the  varieties  of 
Romanic  in  which  we  find  this  duality  of  treatment  of  Latin  a, 
according  as  it  was  or  was  not  preceded  by  a  palatalized  sound. 
Lat  i,  I  become  close  e  (Ital.,  e  chiv.so;  Fr.  i):  habere  aver, 
cteiet  ere,  nie(n)3em  mes,  fidem/c,  pilum  pel.  This 
character  is  not  only  common  to  Italian  anu  Spanish,  but  also 
extends  over  the  French  domain  on  its  western  side  as  far  as 
Britanny.  Certain  exceptions  noticed  in  French  do  not  occur  in 
Pr. :  thus  mercedem,  cera,  pr  (eh)e(n)suni,  venenum, 
which  give  in  Fr.  merci,  cire,  pris,  vcnin,  where  we  should 
have  expected  mcrcsi,  ceire,  preis,  venein,  give  regularly  in  Pr. 
meree,  cera,  pres,  vere.  Lat.  S  preserves,  as  in  Italy,  the  sound 
of  open  «  (Ital.,  eaperto):  pedem,  pc,  lev  at,  leva,  leporem, 
lebre.  In  certain  deteraiinate  cases,  this  e  from  about  the  IStli 
centm-y  onwards  may  diphtliongize  to  ie:  ego,  eu,  then  ieu, 
h8ri,  er,  ier,  ferit, /«■,  Jier.  Lat.  « is  preserved,  as  in  all  the 
Romanic  languages:  ami  cum,  ami,  ripa;  riha.  Lat.  J  is 
treated  like  i  long  wlien  it  precedes  (with  hiatus)  another  vowel  : 
pium,  pi  a,  piu,  pia,  via,  via,  ligat,  lia.  Lat.  d,ii  result  in 
one  and  the  same  sound,  that  of  Italian  u,  Fr.  ou  (Eng.  oo).  Tito 
same  phenomenon  takes  place  in  the  north  of  Italy,  and  in  the 
Romanic  of  Switzerland.  This  sound,,  which  is  styled  by  the 
Donnt  Proenaal  the  o  eslreit  (close  o),  is  usually  symbolized  in  the 
early  texts  by  simple  o,  and  is  tlius  confounded  in  spelling,  though 
not  in  pronunciation,  with  the  open  o  (o  tare  of  the  Donatz 
Proensah]y/hkh  comes  from  Lat.  S.  Lat.  u  becomes  U  {i.e.,  Fr.  u), 
as  all  over  France,  and  also  in  North  Italy  and  Catalonia : 
murum,  mur  (  =  miir),  durum,  dur  (-diir).  Lat.  au  is 
rigorously  preserved  over  tlie  whole  extent  of  tlio  Pr.  domain  : 
aurum,  atir,  alauda,  alauza,  pauperem,  paubre.  At 
present  the  preservation  of  Lat.  a«  does  not  extend  much  out- 
side the  Pr9V.  domain ;  it  is,  however,  found  in  certain  parts  of 
the  Ladino  zone  in  Switzerland  (upper  Rhine  valley),  and  in 
Friuli,  and  it  is  to"  be  supposed  to  have  been  once  general  over  the 
whole  of  that  zone.  It  is  attested  as  late  as  the  16th  century  in 
the'  Vaudois  valleys  of  Piedmont,  and  there  are  also  examples  of  it 
in  old  Catalan.  Elsewhere  the  diphthong  has  regularly  become 
open  0  (auruni.  It.  and  Sp.  oro,  Fr.  or,  kc). 

Atonic  Voiccls.— The  atonic  vowels  (i.e.,  vowels  of  the  unac- 
cented syllables)  which  precede  the  accented  syllable  present  no 
very  characteristic  phenomenon ;  but  it  is  otherwise  with  those  that 
follow  the  accented  syllable,  the  ^ws^/oMic  vowels.  Tlie  Pr.  is  one  pf 
the  Romanic  idioms  which,  like  the  French,  but  unlike  the  Castilian 
and  the  dialects  of  central  and  northern  Italy,  admit  of  only  one 
syllable  after  the  accent.  But  the  rules  are  not  quite  the  same  as 
in  Frcncli.  In  French  the  only  vowel  which  can  stand  after  the 
accented  syllable  is  "  e  feminine,"  otherwise  called  "e  mute."  In 
Prov.  a  and  c  are  the  most  frequent  vowels  in  this  position,  but  i 
and  0  also  occur.  In  French  the  first  of  the  two  post-tonic  vowels 
of  o  Lat.  pronaroxy tone  always  disappears ;  in  Prov.  it  tends  to  bo 
preserved,  when  followed  by  one  of  the  consonants  n,  r,  I,  d: 
to-rminum,  le'rmen,  ho'minom,  o  mcK,  aMi  gelu  m,  (;'n(/c/, 
ae'caleni,  se'gucl,  cre'scere,  a'ei'sscr,  te'pidum,  tc'bcz. 
Finally,  Prov.  presents  in  certain  words  coming  from  Lat.  pro- 
paraxytoncs  the  trace  of  forms  which  (like  Ital.)  admitted  two 
atonic  vowels  after  the  accented  syllable :  thus  we  have  porte'guc 
and  po'rgue  (poTticum),  Fabre'ga,  a  place  name,  and/a'rga 
(fa'brica),  perte'ga  and  pe'rga  (poTtica), /fmcna  and/cmno 
(fe'mina).  We  have  also  lagre'ma  (la'cryma),  but  a  form 
accented  like  Fr.  larnie  docs  not  exist.  There  seems  to  be  no 
doubt  that  these  forms  in  which  a  displacement  of  the  Latin  accent 
is  observed  were  at  an  earlier  period  pronounced  as  proparaxytoncs 
{po'7-tegue,  fa'brcga,  pe'rtcria,  fc'moia,  la'grcma).  ' 

Coiisonanls. — Tlie  boundary  usually  recognized  between  Prov. 
and  French  is  founded  upon  linguistic  characters  furnished  by  the 
vowels,  especially  a;  if  it  had  been  determined  by  characters 
furnished  by  the  consonants,  the  lino  of  demarcation  would  have  to 
be  <lrawu  farther  south,  because  tlio  consonantal  system  which  is 
regarded  as  proper  to  French  really  extends  in  its  main  features 
over  the  northern  zone  of  the  Prnveni;al  region  as  defined  above. 
Aa  with  the  vowels,  only  a  few  of  the  salient  facta  cm  hero  be 


indicated.  C  initial,  or  second  consonant  of  a  group,  before  a 
(cUballunv,  me  re  a  turn),  preserves  its  Lat.  sound  (-k)  in  the 
greater  part  of  the  Prov.  region.  But  in  the  northern  zone  it  takea 
the  sound  of  tch  (Eng.  ch  in  chin)  as  in  0.  Fr.,  and  this  sound  is 
still  pretty  well  preserved,  although  there  is  here  and  there  a 
tendency  to  the  present  sound  of  ch  in  Fr.  (—$h  Eng.).  The  placo 
names  Castellum,  Castanltum,  Casale,  give  Chaslel, 
Cliastanet,  Chazal,  in  Dordogne,  Haute  Vienne,  Correzo,  Fuy  dc 
D6me,  Cantal,  Haute  Loire,  tlie  north  of  Lozere,  of  ArJeche,  of 
Drome,  of  Is^re,  and  of  Hautes  Alpes,  and  Caslel,  Castanet,  Cazal, 
farther  to  the  south.  Analogously,  g  initial,  or  second  consonant 
of  a  group,  followed  by  a,  becomes  j  (i.e.,  dzh^O.  Fr.  and  Eng.  j 
in  jam)  in  the  same  zone;  Garrica  is  Janija,  Jania  ia 
Dordogne,  Corr^ze,  Cantal,  Haute  Loire,  Ishe,  and  Garriga  farther 
south.  Between  two  vowels  t  becomes  d:  cdat,  emperador,  nodal, 
amada  (tetatem,  im  pcra  t  oreni,  uatale,  ainata).  This 
was  also  the  case  in  0.  Fr.  until  the  course  of  the  11th  century 
(honurcde,  emptreiur,  lavadures,  &c.,  in  the  Life  of  St  Alexis). 
But  in  the  northern  zone  this  d  representing  a  Lat.  i  fell  away  aa 
early  as  in  Fr. ;  in  an  11th-century  text  from  the  environs  of 
Valence,  wo  read  muraor,  coroaa  ("muratorem,  corrogata), 
Fr.  corvio  (P.  Jleyer,  Jiccucil  d'anciens  Icxics,  Provenjal  section, 
No.  40).  In  the  south,  d  between  two  vowels  was  preserved  almost 
everywhere  until  about  the  middle  of  the  12tli  century,  when  it 
became  z  (as  in  Fr.  and  Eng.  zero) :  cruzel,  azorar,  auzir,  vczcr 
(crudelem,  a  dor  are,  audi  re,  vide  re).  In  the  14th  and 
15th  centuries  this  :,  like  every  c  or  s  soft  of  whatever  origin,  was 
liable  to  become  r  (lingual,  not  uvular):  aur'i;  veren  (a u dire, 
v  i  d  e  n  t  e  m).  In  Beam  and  Gascony  d  remained ;  hut  in  the 
northern  zone  Lat.  d,  instead  of  changing  into  z,  r,  disappeared  as 
in  Fr.  and  quite  as  early.  The  poem  of-Boetius,  of  which  the  MS. 
is" of  the  11th  century,  shows  in  this  respect  great  hesitation: 
e.g.,  d  preserved  in  chculen,  credel,  Iradar,  redcr  (cadentom, 
*crede-dit,  *tradare,  videre);'rf  fallen  away  in  creesscn, 
fceltat,  traazo,  vciit,  fiar  (*c  redess  e  n  t,  fidelitatem,  *tra- 
dationem,  *vidutum,  p.  i^Ie.  of  videre,  fidare).  One  of 
the  most  general  facts  in  Pr.  is  the  habit  of  rejecting  Lat.  final  t, 
of  wliich  examples  to  any  number  are  presented  by  the  verbs,  ^n 
Fr.  this  t  was  Ibrnierly  retained  when  it  followed  a  vowel  which 
remained,  aimet,  intrei  (ama t, -in t rat),  and  still  remains  (in 
writing  at  least)  when,  in  Latin,  it  follows  a  consonant,  aiment, 
fait,  ii<  (amant,  facit;  *fact,  vivit,  *vivt);  but  in  Pr.  the 
t  is  dropped  in  all  cases,  even  in  the  most  ancient  texts :  aman, 
fai,  viu.  Yet  in  the  northern  zone  we  find  the  I  retained  in  tlie 
3d  per.  ph  of  verbs,  -ant,  -onl  (Lat.  -ant,  -unt).  H  has  gone 
completely  (or  at  least  only  appears  through  orthogiaphic  tradition, 
and  very  intermittently,  (h)crba,  {h)onor,  {h)umil,  &c.),  not  only 
in  words  of  Lat.  origin,  which  is  the  case  in  0.  Fr.,  but  even  in 
Teutonic  words  (anta,  ardil,  arenc,  ausberc,  elm,  Fr.  Jionte,  hardi, 
hareng,  haubert,  heaumc,  with  h  aspirated).  By  this  feature,  the 
nortliern  limits  of  whicli  are  not  yet  well  determined,  the  Pro- 
vencal attaches  itself  to  the  Romanic  of  the  southern  countries.  N 
final,  or  standing  in  Lat.  between  two  vowels  of  which  the  second 
is  to  bo  dropped,  disappears  in  the  whole  central  part  of  the  Pr. 
domain;  gran  gra,  ben  be,  en  c,  roi  ve,  fin  fi,  «)t  u  (gran urn, 
bene,  i  n,  v  e  n  i  t,  f  i  n  e  m,  u  n  u  m).  The  forms  with  n  belong 
to  the  eastern  part  (left  of  the  Rhone),  the  western  part  (Ga.«conv, 
but  not  Beam),  and  the  region  of  the  Pyrenees.  It  is  possible 
that  this  loss  of  «  went  along  with  a  lengthening  of  final  vowel; 
at  least,  in  Bearneso  when  the  ?i  falls  away  the  vowel  is  doubled: 
caperaa,  besii,  ioo  (c  a  p  e  1 1  a  n  u  m,  v  i  c  i  n  u  m,  b  o  a  u  m),  &c. 

Tlicse  are  tlie  most  important  characteristics  of  the  consonants, 
in  relation  to  the  extent  of  space  over  which  they  prevail.  Others, 
which  appear  only  within  a  more  limited  area,  are  perhaps  more 
curious  on  account  of  their  strangeness.  It  will  suffice  to  mention 
a  few  which  belong  to  the  district  bounded  on  the  west  and  south 
by  the  Atlantic,  the  Basque  provinces,  and  the  Pyrenees,  and 
which  extends  nortliward  and  eastward  towards  the  Garonne  and 
its  affluents,  as  far  as  the  Gironde.  (This  includes  Beam,  liigorre, 
and  Gascony.)  Hero  the  sound  i'  no  longer  exists,  being  replaced 
generally  by  6;  between  two  vowels,  in  Goscony,  by  ii,.wilh  tbs 
sound  of  Eng.  w.  Initial  r  assumes  a, prosthetic  o:  arrain,  arre, 
Arroberl  (r  a  mum,  rem,  Robertuln).  i/ between  two  vowels 
becomes  r:  apcrar,  caperan,  or  (Bi!arn)  caperaa,  bcra,  era  (apcl- 
lare,  oapcUanum,  bo  11  a,  el  la).  On  the  contrary,  at  the 
end  of  words  (viz.,  in  Romanic)  //  becomes  g  or  t,  d;  the  former 
change  seems  to  belong  rather  to  Hautes  and  Basses  PyrOne'es, 
Landes,  the  latter  to  Gironde,  Lot  ot  Garonne,  Gers:  eg,  frf,  et 
(iWo),  arraslcg,  -ed,  -c<  (ras  te  1  lum),  casteg,  -frf,  -rt  (cas  tcl  lu  m), 
capdeg,  -ed,  -et  (c  a  p  i  t  o  1 1  u  ni),  whence  Fr.  eadcl  (in  1  Otli  century 
cai>del,  originally  a  Gascon  word).  For  further  details  upon  the 
consonants  in  tliis  region  of  south-wost  France,  see  Jlomania,  iiL 
435-38,  V.  3C8-69. 

Flc3eion.—0]d  Provcnjal  has,  like  Old  French,  a  declension  con- 
sisting' of  two  cases  for  each  number,  derived  from  the  Latin 
nominative  and  accusative.  In  certain  resprcts  this  declension  is 
more  in  confoimity  with  etymology  in  Provonjal   than  in  014 


870 


PROVENCAL 


[langcacb. 


FiDnch,  liaving  beeu  less  influenced  by  analogy.  ^  The  foUo\riitg 
are  the  tyjies  of  this  declension,  taking  them  in  the  order  of  the 
Lat.  declensions.'  1.  Words  in  -a  coming  from  Lat.  1st  decl. , 
increasod  by  certain  words  coming  from  Lat.  neuter  plurals 
treated  in  Prov.  as  feminine  singulars  ;  one  form  only  for  each 
unmber  :  sin?,  causa,  pi.  causas.  2.  Words  of  the  Lat.  2d  dec'., 
with  a  few  from  the  4th  ;  two  forms  for  each  number  :  sing. 
subject  cavah  (oabnllus),  object  cnial  (cahall  uni);  pi.  sub- 
jeotciraZ (cab alii),  object cnTO?i(c aba llos).  3.  Words  of  Lat. 
Sd  decl.  Here  there  are  three  Lat  types  to  be  considered.  Ilie 
first  type  presents  tlie  same  theme  and  the  same  accentuation  iiriUl 
th«icases,  c.(j. ,  c  a  n  i  .s.  The  second  presents  the  same  accentuation 
in  the  nonriuative  singular  and  in  the  other  cases,  but  tlis  theme 
ditfers:  co'nies,  co'mitem.  In  the  third  type  the  accentuation 
changes :  pecca'tor,  peccato'rem.  The  first  type  is  naturally 
confounded  with  nouns  of  the  2d  decl.  :  sing.,  subj.  cans  or  cas, 
obj.  can  or  ca.  Tlie  second  and  third  types  are  sometimes  followed 
in  their  original  variety;  thus  coiiis  answers  to  co'mes,  and  co'mte 
to  c o"  m  i  t  e  m.  But  it  has  often  happened  that  already  in  vulgar 
Latin  the  theme  of  the  nominative  singular  had  beeu  refasliioned 
after  the  theme  of  th«  oblique  cases.  They  said  in  the  nom. 
sing,  heredis,  parentis,  principis,  for  heres,  parens, 
prince ps.  Consequently  the  difference  both  of  theme  and  of 
accentuation  which  e.visted  in  Lat.  between  nominative  and  accu- 
sative has  disappeared  in  Pr.  This  reconstruction  of  the  nomina- 
tive.singular  alter  the  theme  of  the  other  cases  tabes  place  in  all 
Lat.  words  in  -im  (except  abbas),  in  those  in  -io,  in  the  greater  iiart 
of  those  in-or,  at  least  in  all  those  which  have  an  abstract  meaning. 
ThusiWB  obtain  boniaiz  (bonitatis  for  bonitas)  and  bontat 
(ho  nit  at  em);  civiatz  (civitatis  for  ci  vitas)  and  ciulal 
(c i  V i  t  a t  e m),  .Tinors  (a ra o r i s  for  a m  o r)  and  ardor  (a m  or e m). 
All  present  participles  in  the  subject  case  singular  are  formed  in 
this  way  upon  refashioned  Latin  nominatives:  ammis  (amantis 
foranians)  avutiit  (amantcm).  It  is  to  be  remarked  that  in 
regard  to  feminine  nouns  Pr.  is  more  etymological  than  Fr.  In 
the  latter  fenvinine  nouns  have  generally  only  one  form  for  each 
number;  bonU  for  the  snbj.  as  well  as  for  tlie  obj.  case,  and  not 
bontis  and  bonte;  in  Pr.  on  the  contrary  bontatz  ami  bontat.  Still, 
in  aJargenumber  of  nouns  the  original  diiVcrenoe  of  accentuation 
between  the  nominative  singular  and  the  other  cases  has  been: 
maintained,  whence  there  rcsidt  two  very  distinct  forms  for  the< 
subj.  and  obj.  cases.  Of  these  words  it  is  impossible  to  givo 
a  full  list  here  ;  we  confine  ourselves  to  the  exhibition,  of  a  few 
types,  remarking  that  these  words  are  above  all  su<|i:.as  designate 
persons:  a'bas  aba^t,  pa'slrc pasto'r,  sor  soro'r,  ca/itaiTe  c<xrUtido'r 
(cantator,  -orem),  anjterai're  cinpcrado'r,  bar  bccro',  cantpa'iih 
compu-iiho;  laire  laiiv  (latro,  -onem).  To  this  class  belong 
various  proper  names:  ^•blc  Eblo',  Old  Gnio',  Uc  Uffo:  A  fe\v 
have  even  come  from  the  2d  decl.,  thus  /Vi'TH!  Pciro;  Fonts  Poiiso', 
Ca-rU  Carlo-,  as  if  the  Latin  types  had  been  PeSro,  -onem, 
Ponso,  -on  em.  Carlo,  -on  cm.  We  may  mention  also  geogra- 
phical adjectives,  such  as  Bret  Brcto\  Bcrga'iiAz  Bermnh,o\  Oasc 
Gasco;  &c.  The  plural  of  the  3d  decl.  is  '"ke  that  of  the  second: 
subj.  aba-t,  soro'r,  caniado'T,  cmpcrado'r,  baTo\  compaiiho',  lairo'; 
obj.  aba'tz,  saro'rs,  canlado'rs,  empcrado'rs,  baro's,  convpasnho's, 
lairo's,  as  it  the  Lit.  nominative  pi.  had  been  abbati,  sorori, 
cantator i,  &Ci  It  is  barely  possible  that  such  forms' actually 
existed' in  vulgar  Latin;  no  trace  of  them,  however,  is  found  in 
the  te.\t3,  save  in  the  glosses  of  Cassel  (Sth  c),  sapienti  for 
sapientes,  and  in  a  great  many  ancient  charters  paren  tor  um, 
which  implies  a  nominative  pare  n  t  i.  The  words  of  the  ith  and 
Sth  declensions  present  no  points  requiring  mention  here. 

This  declension  of  two  cases  is  a  nofcvbie  character  of  the  whoJe 
Romanic  of  Gaul,  north  as  well  as  south,  i.e.,  French  as  well  as 
Provenjal.  It  must  be  noted,  however,  that  in  the  south-west  it 
existed  only  in  a  very  restricted  fashion.  In  the  old  texts  of 
Gascohy  it  is  no  longer  general  in  the  13th  century.  In  Beam  it 
appears  to  have  been  completely  unknown,  the  nouns  and  adjs. 
having  only  one  form,  nsually  that  of  the  obj.'  case.  In  Catalan 
poetry  its  application  is  often  laid  down  in  the  13th  century,  but 
as  the  charters  and  documents  free  from  literary  influence  show  no 
trace  of  it,  its  introduction  into  the  poetry  of  this  country  may  be 
assumed  to  be  an  artificial  fact.  In  the  region  where  it  is  best 
observed,  i.e.,  in  the  centre  and  north  of  the  Provengal  territory, 
it  tends  to  disappear  from  ordinary  use  already  in  the  13th  centui-y. 
The  poet  grammarian  Raimon  Vidal  of  Besalii,  wlio  flourished 
about  the  middle  of  t!ie  century,  ])oints  out  in  various  troubadours 
transgressions  of  the  rules  of  declension,  and  recognizes  that  in 
conversation  they  are  no  longer  observed.  The  general  tendency 
was  to  retain  only  a  single  form,  that  of  the  obj.  case.  For  certain 
words,  however,  it  was  the  subj.  form  which  survived.  Thus  iu 
modern  Pr.  the  words  in  the  ending  -ai're  (answering  to  Lat.  -a tor) 
are  as  frequent  as  those  in  -adow  (lepr.  -a  tor  em).  But  there  is 
a  slight  difterence  of  meaning  between  these  two  suflixes. 

Adjectives,  generally  speaking,  ngree  in  flexion  with  the  nouns. 
But  there  is  one  fact  particular  to  adjectives  and  past  participles 
which  is  observed  with  more  or  lessjvgularity  in  certain  12th _and 


13tn  century  texts.  There  is  a  tendency  to  mark  more  clearly  tii  »u 
in  the  substantives  the  flexion  of  the  subj.  pi. ,  chiefly  when  the  adj. 
or  participle  is  employed  predicatively.  This  is  marked  by  the  addi- 
tion of  an  i,  placed,  according  to  the  district,  either  after  the  final 
consonant,  or  else  after  the  last  vowelso  as  to  form  a  diphthong  with 
it.  The  following  are  examples' from  an  ancient  translation  of  the 
New  Tes'.anient  (AIS.  in  library  of  the  Palais  Saint-Pierre,  Lyons, 
end  of  13th  century): — "Die  a  vos  que  no  siatz  consirosi"  (ne 
soUiciti  sitis,  ilat.  vi.  25);  "que siatz  vLti  d'  els"  (ut  videamini 
ab  eis,  Mat.  vi.  1);  "edavant  los  reis  els  princeps  seretz  inenadi" 
(et  ad  presides  et  ad  reges  duceniini.  Mat.  x.  IS).  In  charters  of 
the  12th  and  13th  centuries  we  find  in  the  subj.  case  ph,  and 
especially  in  this  predicative  use,  jxajaig,  ccrtinaih,  acossailhaih, 
representing  pagati,  certifieati,  adcon  si  Ijati. 

It  is  in  the  verbs  that  the  individuality  of  the  ditfercut  Bomanic 
idioms  manifests  itself  most  distinctly.  At  a  very  early  date  the 
etymological  data  were  crossed,  iu  various  directions  and  divers 
manners  according  to  the  country,  by  analogical  tendencies.  The 
local  varieties  became'  little  by  little' so  numerous  in  the  Domanic 
conjugation  that  it  is  not  easy  to  discover  any  very  characteristic 
features  observed  over  a  territory  so  vast  as  that  of  which  the  limits 
have  bceii  indicated  at  the  commencement  of  this  article.  The 
following  are,  how«ver,  a  few. 

The  infinitives  are  in  -«r,  -ir,  -re,  -ir,  corresponding  to  the  Lat. 
-are,  -ere,  -ere,  -ire,  respectively;  as  in  the  whole  Romanic 
domain,  the  conjugation  in  -ar  is  the  most  numerous.  The  table 
of  verbs,  which  forms  part  of  the  Pr.  grammar  called  the  Douatz 
JPncnsais  (13th  century)  contains  473  verbs  in  -ar,  101  in  -ir  and 
■re,  115  in  -ir.  In  the  -or  conjugation  we  remark  one  verb  from 
another  conjugation  : /or  {c/.  It.  fare)  from  facer e.  The  con- 
jugations in  -e>  and  re  encroach  each  upon  the  territory  of  tho 
other.  The  three  Lat.  verbs  cade  re,  cape  re,  sapere  haver 
become  -Sr  verbs  (cazc'r,  cabev,  sabe'r)  as  in  Fr.  cheoir,  -ccvoir, 
savoir ;  and  several  other  verbs  waver  between  the  two ;  crcde'r, 
crc^r, and crn'. 're (ere  "dere),  quercr ^ni que'rrc  (quaere re).  This 
fluctuation  is  most  frequent  in  the  case  of  verbs  which  belonged, 
originally  to  thft  -ere  conjugation:  ardc'r  ami  a'rdre,  plaze-r  aaid 
plai're,  tazer  and  tai-re  (ardere,  placere,  tacere).  Next  to 
the  -ar  conjugation,  that  in  -ir  is  the  one  which  has  preserved  most 
formative  power.  As  in  the  other  Romanic  languages,  it  has 
welcomed  a  large  nramber  of  German  verbs,  and  has  attracted 
several  verbs  which  etymologically  ought  to  have  belonged  to  the 
conjugations  iu  -ir  and  -re  :  emplir  (i  m  p  1  e  r  e),  jauzir  (ga.u  d  e  r  e), 
cosir  (con  Sucre),  erebir  (eripere),  fugir  (fugere),  scqmr 
(*  seq  uere'=3equi). 

Except  in  the  -ar  conjugation,  the  ending  of  the  infinitive.does 
not  determine  iu  a  regular  manner  the  mode  of  forming  the 
different  tenses.  The  present  participles  are  divided  into  two 
series  :  those  in  -an  (obj.  sing.)  tor  the  first  conj;,  those  in  -eii  for 
the  others.  In  this  the  Pr.  distinguishes  itself  very  clearly  from 
the  French,  iu  which  all  present  participles  have  -ant.  There  is  also 
in  Pr.  a  participial  form  or  verbal  adjective  which  is  not  met  witli 
in  any  other  Romanic  language,  except  Romanian,  where  more- 
over it  is  employed  iu  a  different  sense ;  this  is  a  form  in  -dor, 
-deira,  which  supposes  a  Lat.  tj'pe  -torius,  or-tiirius;  the 
sense  is  that  of  a  futiu'e participle,  active  for  the  intransitive  verbs, 
passive  for  the  ttunsitiye ;  endeveaidor,  -doi-ra,  "that  is  to 
liappen";  fazedo'r,  -doi'ra,  "that  isto  be  done";  ^nidov,  -doira, 
"to  be  punished.".  In  conjugation  properly  so  called,  we  may 
remark  the  almost  complete  disappearance  of  the  Lat.  preterite  iu 
■avi,  of  which  traces  are  found  only  in  texts  written  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  French-speaking  region,  and  in  B&rn.  In 
return,  a  preterite  which  seems  to  have  been  suggested  by  the 
Latin  dedi,  has  increased  and  become  the  type  of  the  tense 
almost  everywhere  in  tlie  -ar  conjugation,  and  in  many  verbs  in 
-ir  and  -re  :  amei',  anwst,  amft,  amenn,  ame-tz,  ame-ron.  In  Fr. 
there  is  a  form  like  this,  or  at  least  having  the  same  origin,  only 
in  a  small  number  of  verbs,  none  of  which  belong  to  the  first  con- 
jugation, and  in  these  only  in  the  3rd.  pers.  sing,  and  pi.  (perdie, 
perdierent;  entendie,  enteiulierent,  &c.)  It  is  well  known  that  re- 
duplicated preterites  had  greatly  multiplied  in  vulgar  Latin  :  there 
have  been  recovered  such  forms  asasceudiderat,  osteudedit, 
pandiderunt,  adtendedit,  incendiderat,  &c.  (see 
Schuchardt,  Vokalismus  des  Vulgarlateins,  i.  35,  iii.  10;  cf. 
Romania,  ii.  477)..  But,  iu  order  to  explain  the  Pr.  form  -ei,  -est, 
•ct  (with  open  i),  we  must  suppose  a  termination  not  in  -id i  or 
•  edi,  but  in  -e  'di.  In  the  western  region  the  3d  pers.  sing,  is 
generally  in  -ce,  7>robably  by  analogy  with  preterites  like  bee,  crcc, 
dec,  sec,  formed  after  the  Lat.  type  iu  -u  i.  Another  notable  peculi- 
arity, of  which  Old  Fr.  shows  only  rare  traces,  in  texts  of  a  very 
remote  period,  is  the  preservation  of  a  preterite  in  -ara  or  -era,  de- 
rived from  the  Lat.  pluperfect,  ama'ra  or  ame'ra,  "I  loved."  The 
former  comes  directly  from  Lat.  am  fir  a  m,  the  latter  has  been  in- 
fluenced by  the  ordinary  prSterite  in  -ei.  This  preterite  is  used 
with  the  sense  of  a  simple  past,,  not  of  a  pluperfect,  and  conse- 
quently is  an  exact  doublet  of  the  ordinary  preterite,. which  explains 
how  it  was  at  leuyth  eliminated  almost  everywhere  by  the  latter,  tf 


l.A.VGUAGi;.] 


PKOVENCAI. 


871 


wliich  it  wa?  a  mere  STnonyiu.  Uat  it  remained  in  gLiier.il  use 
witli  the  sens©  of  a  pnst  conditional:  ama  ra  or  ame'ra,  "I  should 
li&Te  loved,"/ui'ff,  "  I  should  have  been." 

3.  Existinff  State  of  the  ProveiKpl. — In  consequence  of 
political  circumstances  (see  notice  of  Provencal  Literature 
below),  the  Provencal  ceased  to  be  used  for  administrative 
as  well  as  literary  purposes  about  the  15th  century,  in 
some  "laces  a  little  sooner,  in  others  later  (notably  in 
B<Sarn,  where  it  continued  to  be  written  as  the  language  of 
ordinary  use  till  the  17th  century).  The  poems  in  local 
dialect  composed  and  printed  in  the  16th  century  and  on 
to  our  own  day  have  no  link  with  the  literature  of  the 
preceding  period.  Reduced  to  the  condition  of  a  patois,  or 
popular  dialect  simply,  the  idiom  experienced  somewhat 
rapid  modifications.  Any  one  who  sliould  compare  the 
poems  of  Goudolin  of  Toulouse  (1579-1649)  with  those 
of  a  Toulousain  troubadour  of  the  13th  century  would  be 
astonished  at  the  changes  which  the  language  has  under- 
gone. Yet  this  impression  would  probably  be  exaggerated. 
In  order  to  make  a  rigorously  accurate  comparison  of  the 
language  at  the  two  epochs,  it  would  have  to  bo  written 
in  the  two  cases  with  the  same  orthographic  system,  which 
it  is  not.  The  first  writers  of  Provengal,  about  the  10th  or 
11th  century,  applied  to  tho  language  the  Latin  ortho- 
graphy, preserving  to  each  letter,  as  far  as  possible,  the 
falue  given  to  it  in  the  contemporary  pronunciation  of 
Latin.  To  express  certain  sounds  which  did  not  exist  in 
Latin,  or  which  were  not  there  clearly  enough  noted,  thoie 
were  introduced  little  by  little,  and  without  regular 
system,  %'ariou6  conventional  symbolizationa  such  as  l/i. 
and  nh  to  symbolize  the  sound  of  I  and  ?i  moicil/ee.  From 
this  method  of  proceeding  there  resulted  an  orthogi-aphic 
system  somcwliat  wanting  in  fLxity,  but  which  from  its 
very  instability  lent  itself  fairly  well  to  the  variations 
which  the  pronunciation  underwent  in  time  and  locality. 
But,  the  tradition  having  been  interrupted  about  the  15th 
century,  those  who  afterwards  by  way  of  pastime  attempted 
composition  in  the  patois  formed,  each  for  himself  apart, 
an  orthography  of  which  many  elements  were  borrowed 
from  French  usa.ge.  It  is  evideat  that  differences  already 
considerable  must  be  exaggerated  by  the  use  of  two  very 
distinct  orthographical  systems.  Nevertheless,  even  if  we 
get  quit  of  the  illusion  which  makes  ub  at  first  sight 
suppose  differences  of  sound  where  there  are  merely 
different  ways  of  spelling  the  same  sound,  v/e  find  that 
between  the. 14th  and  ICth  century  the  language  under- 
went everywhere,  Ji6axn  (for  reasons  already  given) 
excepted,  great  modifications  both  in  vocabulary  and 
grammar.  TheProvonQal  literature  having  gradually  died 
out  during  the  14th  century,  the  vocabulary  lost  iraniedi- 
ately  tho  greater  part  .  of  the  terms  expressing  general 
ideas  or  alastract  conceptions.  To  .supply  the  place  of 
these,  the  authors  who  have  written  in  the  patois  of  tho 
south  during  tho  last  few  centuries  have  been  obliged  to 
borrow  from  French,  modifying  at.  the  same  time  their  form, 
a  multitude  of  vocables  which  naturally  have  remained  for 
the  most  part  unintelligible  to  people  who  know  only  tho 
patois.  In  this  case  tho  adoption  of  foreign  words  was 
excusable ;  but  it  did  not  stop  here.  Little  by  little,  as 
primary  instruction  (now  compulsory)  was  diffused,  and 
introduced  first  in  the  towns  and  afterwards  in  the  villages 
a  certriiu  knowledge  of  French,  words  purely  French  have 
been  introduced  into  use  in  place  of  the  corresponding 
dialect  words.  Thus,  one  hears  constantly  in  Provonco 
pi'ro,  me'ro,  fre'ro,  forms  adapted  from  French,  instead  of 
pctirc,  niaire,  fraire;  cacha  (catiha'  =  Fr.  cacher)  instead 
of  escoundre,  &c. 

In  til!)  phonology,  tho  modifications  are  of  the  natural  order,  and 
so  have  nothing  rcvolutionaiy.  Tho  language  has  developed  locally 
tendcncios  wliich  certainly  already  existed  during  tho  nourishing 
^riod,  althousrh  the  ancient  orthography  did  not  rocognizo  them. 


Of  the  vowels,  a  tonic  is  generally  preserved ;  a»  in  an  open 
syllable  becomes  6  (open)  in  jiait  of  the  departments  ef  Avej-ron, 
Lot,  Dordogne,  Correxo,  Caiital,  and  south  of  Haute  Loire:  jio 
(granum),  mo  (iiiani'm),  ;«)  (pa.ncm).  This  nasalized  (»  mu.st 
have  had  a  particular  sound  already  in  Old  Pr.,  for  it  is  qualified 
in  the  Donatz  I'roenmls  (ed.  Stengel,  p.  49)  as  a  cstrcit  (-close  or 
narrow  a).  A  feature  almost  general  is  the  passage  of  post-tonic  a 
iulo  o:  terro,  amaro,  amarlo  (terra,  nmabat,  amata).  In 
Var  and  the  Maritime  Alps  examples  of  this  change  occur  as 
early  as  tho  end  of  tlie  15th  century.  But  oven  yet  there  are  a 
few  cantons,  notably  Montpollier  and  its  neighbourhowl,  where 
the  .-mcicnt  po-^-tonic  a  is  preserved.  It  is  remajkable  that  the 
Latin  diphthong  (tij,  which  had  become  simple  o  in  almost  all 
Eomanic  lands  at  the  date  of  the  most  ancient  texts,  is  to  this  day 
preserved  with  a  very  distinct  diphthongal  sound  everj-\»hero  in  the 
south  of  Fi-ance. 

lu  the  morphology,the  leading  feature  of  modern  rrov«n9al  is  the 
ever  greater  iiimpUlication  of  gr.immatical  forms.  Not  only  have 
the  two  forms  (nominative  and  objective)  iu  encli  number,  in  nouns 
and  adjectives,  been  retliiced  to  one— this  reduction  manifested 
itself  in  ordinary  use  already  in  the  Hth  century— but  in  many 
places  there  no  longer  remains  any  distinction  between  the  bingnlav 
and  the  plural.  In  a  great  part  of  the  south  ieu  (ego)  does 
duty  as  an  objective,  me  or  mi  having  disappeared!,  lu  pait  of 
DrSme  it  is  the  other  way,  mi  being  substituted  in  the  iiomin- 
ativo  for  u'M,  which  it  has  completely  displaced.  It  is  perhaps  iu 
coiijinjation  that  tliO'  greatest  changes  from  the  oliler  form  of  the 
language  are  secD.  Analogy,  basing  itself  upon  one  or  another 
much  used  form,  IiaS  acted  with  inuueiise  force,  tending  to  UHiho 
gcner.al  iu  the  whole  conjugation,  without  any  regard  to  tho 
original  classes  to  -which  the-  various  verbs  bclongod,  certain 
tenuinatlonsj  chiefly  those  which  were  accented,  and  thus  appeared 
to  tho  popular  iiistinct'  to  have  moi'e  signifisance.  The  result,  if 
the  tendency  were  carried  tho  full  lejigtli,  would  bo  the  rc<luct;c.n 
of  all  tho  three  conjugations  to  one.  Perhaps  before  this  point  is 
reached  the  patois  of  the  south  will  themselves  have  disappeared. 
As  the  endless  modifications  which  the  languasc  undermies,  in 
voeabulaiy  and  gi'.ammav  alike,  develop  tlicmselvos  in  ditretent 
directions,  and  each  over  an  area  diil'er&ntly  circumscribed,  the 
general  aspect  of  the  language  becomes  more  and  more  confnsed, 
without  the  possibility  of  grouping  the  endless  varieties  within 
dialectal  divisions,  there  being  no  case  in  which  a  certain  number 
of  phoiretio  or  qiorphological  facts  present  themselves  within  the 
same  geographical  limits.  The  custom  has  been  adopted  of  roughly 
designating  these  varieties  by  the  name  of  the  ancient  provinces 
in  which  they  appear.  Limousin  (divided  into  ITigh  and  Lou- 
Li^wnsin),  Manhcse,  Auverjncse,  Gascmi,  Bc'anicsc,  Roiicrgat, 
Lamjuedociiaiv,  Ptovciu^mI,  &c. ;  but  these  divisions,  though  con- 
venient in  use,  correspond  to  no  actualities.  Nimes  and  Mont- 
pellier  are  in  Languedoc,  and  Aries  and  Tarascon  aii-e  in  Provenco ; 
nevertheless  the  dialect  of  Nimes  resembles  that  of  Aries  and 
Tarascon  more  than  that  of  JIontpelHer. 

7>4t«.— For  the  hiatory  of  tho  Pi-(n-cni;iil  In  al!  Its  Tnrlortes  there  , ire  io.iny 
mory  Tiijiti'.  liils  thiin  for  any  other  Konumic  Innf^uiij^e.  not  excepting  even  Italian 
01-  l--i-cnclj.  The  lUcravy  texts  go  bnck  to  the  10th  or  Uth  century  (see  below), 
l-'or  phonetic  pui-poses  many  of  those  texts  aro  of  secondary  vnluc;  becanse  the 
MSS.  In  which  they  have  reached  us,  and  several  of  whicti.  cepcchiUy  for  tho 
poetry  of  tho  trotibadoui  s,  ore  of  Italian  ovtg!n,.have  altered  the  oiiplnnl  fomisto 
an  extent  which  Ic  is  not  easy  to  deternaioo ;  l>utwo  posscssa  CMnnllf  «s  nnmber  of 
choitel-8,  coH(«mf5,  vegnlaliojis,  accounts.  reKlstcfS  o(  taxation,  which  aic  worthy 
of  absoluto  eonfldoncc, — first,  because  these  docnmtnts  ai-c  In  most  cases  orieln- 
ols,  and,  secondly,  because,  none  of  tho  dialectal  varieties  liavinK  raised  Itself 
t<i  the  rank  of  the  Uternrv  lancuace,  as  happened  In  France  with  the  centrol 
(Parisian)  vnrloty  and  in  Italy  with  the  FloremJne,  writers  never  had  the  tempta- 
tion to  abandon  their  own  Idlon\  for  another.  It  is  proper  to  odd'  tlint  ProTCii^al 
possesses  two  ancient  crntrininrs  of  tho  I'Jih  century  (ihc  earliest  compiled  for 
any  Itomonic  idiom)— tho  Donaiz  PronisaU  and  Hti:ot  tic  frohnr  (soe  p.  876). 
AlthmiKli  very  eliort,  espccl  illy  the  second,  whicli  is  a  collection  of  detaciicd  ob- 
seivations.  Ihoy  furnish  valuable  data.  Tho  14th-century  Itiit  tfAmort  (see  p. 
871:)  presents  tho  language  in  rather  an  artlllcln) state — tlu)  laaKUage  w-Ukh  ouffht 
to  bo  wiltten  rather  than  the  Inncnage  actually  i-xistlnj-. 

l)ihUogi'aphy,—\.  Ancienl  Oiik//;/uii.— I'liero  does  uol  oilit  any  eomprelienalTo 
work  upon  the  Provencal  whonco  to  obtain  a  precise  idea  of  the  history  of  the 
lanRUUgeat  its  different  epochs,  nirz's  fJranimtttIk  rfei-  rofitnnifcAfn  {>prarhrn 
is  still  the  moandivol-k.  It  rIvc-s,  especially  In  the  ;1<1  ed.  (Isilll-7'il,  tho  lost  re- 
vised by  the  author,  tho  results  of  extensive  leseitrches  convculintly  al-mnced. 
But  Dlea  had  only  a  sleifder  knowlodpn  of  llio  lattRtiaa^  In  Itw  present  state, 
and  in  his  time  plionoioay  liad  made  Utile  procresa.  Tho  Ficncli  Itanslallon 
of  M^^.  0.  Pails,  A.  llrachet,  and  Morellnlln  (rails,  IS;:l-7ll)  was  to  be  com- 
pleted by  a  supplementary  volume,  which  was  aiinoaneed  at  \-ol.  ix.  p.  O.lfi  of 
the  preseni  work,  hut  this  expedli'nt  has  had  to  be  abandoned.  It  having  been 
recognlxed  thnt  wliat  was  wonted  was  not  a  hupploment  bu»  a  peneral  icciisl. 
Tho  "IJechciches  piiliolociqi-ca  sur  la  lantti'e  romBlte,"  and  "  Rtisumrf  do  la 
(rrnmmalro  rnniane."  publlslied  bv  Ra>-nouHi-il  at  tlie  beglnidnj;  of  vol.  I.  of  his 
ly.liqut  romtm  (1819),  nro  entirely  out  of  dalo.  Tho  "Tahhan  soinmairo  ties 
flexions  l>roven9aks,"  published  by  M.  Ilartseh.  In  tlie  fTirci/omat/li*  prcren^atf 
(Ifh  ed.,  ISSO),  Is  Incnmplcio  and  often  err-'ueous.  The  actual  state  of  our  know, 
ledffo  of  ancient  l'roven?al  must  bo  souulit  In  a  great  nmnlier  of  scortered  dis- 
sertations or  monographs,  which  will  be  foiin.l  especially  In  the  Urwoiitt  of  tho 
.'Socli'td  do  I.lncillstlqno  do  Parl.-i,  IBlia  (Plit>:trll,)Ur  itnrcntalr,  O.  pn.  14801),  In 
tho  A'ooKinio  (1872-S.5),  and  In  the  litnie  ilt  lit  S.H-lclr  pour  Vfltidt  dtt  lani/urt 
romann,  to  which  may  bo  added  some  doctoral  disseitatlens  publlslied  In  Ger- 
many, and  the  special  studies  upon  tho  lancuacoot  parlleular  text*  prefaced  to 
editions  of  these.  As  to  dletioiiarles,  tlie  /.r.ri./ria  roiimn.  t)U  Oictio}inair*  dr  i<i 
Irtnimc'Ift  Troukadoiiri,  by  Haynounul  (Pari-.d  vols.  Svo,  lSSIl-44),  can  always  be 
used  with  odvantiiBO,  but  the  numerous  special  vecabuUrhs  appended  by  editors 
to  texts  published  by  them  cannot  bo  iicKlectcd.     'Hieso  yield  ft  conslileiablo 


872 


PROVENCAL 


[literaturr. 


number  of  words,  either  wanting  or  wrnngly  explained  In  the  Lexiqve  roman. 
2.  Modern  f-'orm. — The  most  useful  Kraiiimalicitl  wovk*  (all  done  with  insufficient 
knowledRi  of  phonoloRy,  and  under  the  pi-econceh-t-d  idea  that  there  exist  dialects 
with  definite  ciicumsciiption)  are  J.  B.  Andrews,  £ssai  de  gramiiiaire  du  dialecte 
mentortais  (Mentone]  (Nice,  1S78),  see  also  his  "  Phonetique  mentonaise,"  in 
Romania,  xil.  31)4  ;  Cantiigrel,  ,Vo/«  sur  I'oythographieel  fa  prononciat ion  langiie- 
docienries,  prefixed  to  La  Canson  de  la  Lauseco,  by  A.  Mir  (.Monfpellier,  187C); 
Chabanean,  Qrainmaire  limousine  {V&ris,  1876).  referring  especially  to  the  variety 
of  Nontion,  In  the  north  of  F^rigord  (Doidogne);  Coiistang,  Essai  sur  V  hiiloire 
du  sous-dialecte  du  Rauergue  (Blontpellier  and  Paris,  ISSO);  Lespy,  Orammaire 
beamaite  (2d  ed..  Pails,  1880)  ;  A.  jluchaire.  Etudes  sur  les  idiomes  ptjreneens  de 
la  region  frani;aise  (Paris,  1879);  Moutler,  Grammaire  daupfiinoise,  Dialecte  de  la 
ralUe  de  la  DrQnte  (Montelimar,  1882);  Ruben,  "Etude  sur  le  patois  du  Haut 
Limousin,"  pieflxed  to  Poems  by  J.Fyucand,  in  the  Limousin  patois  (Limoges. 
1866).  As  to  dictionaries  M-e  may  mention,  among  others,  Andrews,  Vocalulaire 
/rantais-mentonais  (Xice,  1877)  ;  Azais,  Dictionnaire  des  idiomes  remans  du  midi 
de  la  France  (Montpellier,  1S77,  3  vols.  Svo).  taking  for  its  basis  the  dialect  of 
B^zlers;  Chabrand  and  De  Rochas  d'Alglun,  Patois  des  Alpes  CoCtiennes  et  en 
particulier  du  Quej/^na  (Grenoble  and  Paris,  1877);  Couzini^. /)/c(ionna ire  rfe /a 
tongue  romano-castraise  (Castres,  1850);  Garcin,  Nouveau  dielionnaire  proven^al- 
fran^ais  (Diaguigpan,  1841,  2  vols.);  Honnoiat,  Dictionnaire  proven^al-fran^ais 
(Digue,  1846-7,  2  vols.  4to);^De  Sanvages,  Dictionnaire  languedocien-/rani;ais 
(new  ed.,  Alals,  1820,  2  vols.); .  Vayssier,  Dictionnaire  patois-franqais  du  departe- 
ment  de  /'^ffyron  (Rodez,  1879).  From  1880  the  Dictionnaire  proceni^al-franqais 
of  Fr.  Mistral,  in  2  vols.  4to,  has  been  tn  progress  ;  more  than  the  hnlf  has  ap- 
peared. This  dictionary  tjikes  as  Its  basis  the  valiety  of  Maillune  (in  tlie  north  of 
Bouche3-du-Rh5ne),the  author's  native  distiict,  and  gives  in  as  complete  a  manner 
as  possible  all  the  fornix  used  In  the  south  of  France.  It  is  by  far  the  best  of 
all  the  dictionaries  of  the  southei-n  dialects  which  have  yet  been  published,  and 
when  finished  It  will  almost  enable  the  student  to  dispense  with  oil  the  others. 

II.  Pkovenqal  Literature. — Proven9al  literature  is 
much  more  easily  defined  than  the  language  in  which  it 
is  expressed.  Starting  in  the  11th  and  12th  centuries  in 
several  centres,  it  thence  gradually  spread  out,  first  over 
the  greater  portion,  though  not  the  whole,  of  southern 
France,  and  then  into  the  north  of  Italy  and  Spain.  It 
nowhere  merged  in  th«  neighbouring  literatures.  At  the 
time  of  its  highest  development  (12th  century)  the  art  of 
composing  in  the  vulgar  tongue  did  not  exist,  or  was  only 
beginning  (o  exist,  -to  the  south  of  the  Alps  and  the 
Pyrenees.  In  the  north,  in  the  country  of  French  speech, 
vernacular  poetry  was  in  full  bloom ;  •  but  between  the 
districts  in  which  it  had  developed — Champagne,  lie  de 
France,  Picardy,  and  Normandy — and  the  region  in  which 
Provengal  literature  had  sprung  up,  there  seems  to  have 
been  an  intermediate  zone  formed  by  Burgundy,  Bourbon- 
nais,  Berry,  Touraine,  and  Anjou  which,  far  on  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  appears  to  have  remained  barren  of  vernacular 
literature.  In  its  rise  Proven9al  literature  stands  com- 
pletely by  itself,  and  in  its  development  it  long  continued 
to  be  absolutely  original.  It  presents  at  several  points 
genuine  analogies  with  the  sister-literature  of  northern 
France  ;  but  these  analogies  are  due  principally  to  certain 
primary  elements  common  to  both  and  only  in  a  slight 
degree  to  mutual  reaction. 

[t  must  be  inquired,  however,  what  amount  of  origin- 
ality could  l}elong  to  any,  even  the  most  original,  Romanic 
literature  in  the  Middle  Ages.  In  all  Romanic  countries 
compositions  in  the\ernaculaf  began  to  appear  while  the 
custom  of  writing  in  Latin  was  still  preserved  by  unin- 
terrupted tradition.  Even  during  the  most  barbarous 
periods,  when  intellectual  life  was  at  its  lowest,  it  was  in 
Latin  .that  sermons,  lives  of  saints  more  or  less  apocryphal, 
QiCcounts  of  miracles  designed  to  attract  pilgrims  to  certain 
shrines,  monastic  annals,  legal  documents,  and  contracts 
of  all  kinds  were  composed.  When  learning  began  to  re- 
vive, as  was  the  case  in  northern  and  central  France  under 
the  influence  of  Charlemagne  and  later  in  the  11th  century, 
it  was  Latin  literature  which  naturally  received  increaseci 
attention,  and  the  Latin  language  was  more  than  ever 
employed  in  writing.  Slowly  and  gradually  the  Romanic 
languages,  especially  those  of  France,  came  to  occupy  part 
of  the  ground  formerly  occupied  by  Latin,  but  even  after 
the  Middle  Ages  had  passed  away  the  parent  tongue 
retained  no  small  portions  of  its  original  empire.  Conse- 
quently Romanic  literatures  in  general  (and  this  is  especi- 
ally true  of  Provencal  as  it  does  not  extend  beyond  the 
raediseval  period)  afford  only  an  incomplete  representation 
of  the  intellectual  development  of  each  country.  Those 
literatures  even  which  are  most  truly  national,  as  laving 
been  subiected  to  no  external  influence,   are  only  to   a 


limited  extent  capable  of  teaching  us  what  the  nation  waa 
They  were,  in  short,  created  in  the  interests  of  the  illitoiate 
part  of  the  people,  and  to  a  considerable  d'sgree  by  those 
who  were  themselves  illiterate.  But  that  does  not  make 
them  less  interesting. 

Origin. — It  was  in  the  1 1th  century,  and  at  several  places 
in  the  extensive  territory  whose  limits  have  been  described 
in  the  foregoing  account  of  the  Provencal  language,  .that 
Provengal  literature  first  made  its  appearance.     It  took 
poetic  form  ;  and  its  oldest  monuments  show  a  relative 
perfection  and  a  variety  from  which  it  may  be  concluded 
that  poetry  had  already  received  a  considerable  develop- 
ment.    The  oldest  poetic  text,  if  the  date  and  origin  be 
correctly   determined,    is    said  to  be  a  Proven9al  refrain 
attached  to  a  Latin  poem  recently  published  {Zeitschrift 
fur  deutsche  Philologie,  1881,  p.  335)  from  a  Vatican  MS., 
written,  it  is  asserted,  in  the  10th  century.     But  it  is  use- 
less  to  linger  over   these  few  words,  tlie  text  of  which 
seems  corrupt,  or  at  least  has  not  yet  been  satisfactorily 
interpreted.     The    honour    of   being   the   oldest    literary 
monument  of  the  Provengal  language  must  be  assigned  to 
a  fragment  of  two  hundred   and    fifty-seven  decasyllabic 
verses  preserved  in  an  Orleans  MS.  and  frequently  edited 
and  annotated  since  it  was  first  printed  by  Raynouard  in 
1817  in  his  Choix  des  poesies  originales  des  Troubadours. 
The  writing  of  the  MS.  is  of  the  first  half  of  the  11th 
century.     The  peculiarities  of  the  language  point  to  the 
north  of   the    Proven^^l    region,    probably   Limousin   or 
Marche.     It  is  the  beginning  of  a  poem  in  which  the 
unknown  author,  taking  Boetius's  treatise  Be  Consolaiione 
Philosophiee  as  the  groundwork  of  his  composition,  adopts 
and  develops  its  ideas  and  gives  them  a  Christian  cast  of 
which  there  is .  no  trace  in  the  original.     Thus  from  some 
verses  in  which,  Boetius  contrasts  his  happy  youth  with 
his  afflicted  olii  age  he  draws  a  lengthy  homily  on  the 
necessity  of  laying  up  from  early  years  a  treasure  of  good 
works.     The  poem  is  consequently  a  didactic  piece  com- 
posed by  a  "clerk,"  knowing  Latin.    He  doubtless  preferred 
the  poetic  form  to  prose  because  his  illiterate  contempor- 
aries were  accustomed  to  poetry  in  the  vulgar  tongue,  and 
because  this  form  was  better  adapted  to  recitation ;  ard 
thus  his  work,  while  a  product  of  erudition  in  as  far  as  it 
was  an  adaptation  of  a  Latin  treatise,  shows  that  at  tlie 
time  when  it  was  composed  a  vernacular  poetry  was  in 
existence.     A  little  later,  at  the  close  of  the  same  century, 
we  have  the  poems  of  William  IX.,  count  of  Poitiers,  duke 
of  Guienne.     They  consist  of  eleven  very  diverse  strophic 
pieces,  and  were  consequently  meant  to  be  sung.     Several  - 
are  love  songs;  one  relates  a  bonne  fortune  m  very  gross 
terms  ;  and  the  most  important  of  all — the  only  one  which 
can  be  approximately  dated,  being  composed  at  the  time 
when  William   was   setting  out  for  Spain   to  fight   the 
Saracens — expresses   in  touching  and  ofteij  noble  words 
the  writer's  regret  for  the  frivolity  of  his  past  life  and  the 
apprehensions  which  oppressed  him  as  he  bade  farewell, 
perhaps  for  ever,  to  his  country  and  his  young  son.     We 
also  know  from  Ordericus  Vitalis  that  William  IX.  had 
composed  various  poems  on  the  incidents  of  his  ill-fated 
expedition   to   the  Holy  Land   in  1101.     And  it   must 
further  be  mentioned  that  in  one  of  his  pieces  {Ben  voil 
que  sapchon  li  plusor)  he  mp.kes  a  very  clear  allusion  to  a 
kind  of  poetry  which  we  know  only  by  specimens  of  later 
date,  iho partimen,  or,  as  it  is  called  in  France,  i\i&jeu  parti. 
William  IX.  was  born  in  1071  and  died  in  1127.     There 
is  no  doubt  that  the  most  prolific  period  of  his  literary 
.activity  was  his  youth.     On  the  other  hand  there  is  no 
reason  to  believe  that  he  created  the  type  of  poetry  of 
which  he  is  to  us  the  oldest  representative.     It  is  easy  to 
understand  how  his  high  social  rank  saved  some  of  his 
productions  from  oblivion  whilst  the  poems  of  his  pi«- 


LIXISRATORE.] 


PROVENCAL 


873 


decessors  and  contemporaries  disappeared  'with  the  genera- 
tions who  heard  and  sang  them ;  and  in  the  contrast  in 
form  and  subject  between  the  Boetius  poem  and  the 
stanzas  of  William  IX.  we  find  evidence  that  by  the  11th 
century  Provencal  poetry  was  being  rapidly  developed  in 
various  directions.  Whence  came  this  poetry  t  How  and 
by  whose  work  was  it  formed  1  That  it  has  no  connexion 
whatever  with  Latin  poetry  is  generally  admitted.  There 
is  absolutely  nothing  in  common  either  in  form  or  ideas 
between  the  last  productions  of  classical  Latinity,  as  they 
appear  in  Sidonius  ApoUinaris  or  Fortunatus,  and  the 
'first  poetic  compositions  in  Romanic.  The  view  which 
seems  to  meet  with  general  acceptance,  though  it  has  not 
been  distinctly  formulated  by  any  one,  is  that  Romanic 
poetry  sprang  out  of  a  popular  poetry  quietly  holding  its 
place  from  the  Roman  times,  no  specimein  of  which  has 
survived, — just  as  the  Romanic  languages  are  only  con- 
tinuations with  local  modifications  of  vulgar  Latin.  There 
are  both  truth  and  error  in  this  opinion.  The  question 
isreally  a  very.complex  one.  First^as  to  the  form :  Romanic 
versification,  as  it  appears  in  the  Boetius  poem  and  the 
verses  of  William  IX,,  and  a  little  farther  north  in  the 
poem  of  the  Passion  and  the  Life  of  St  Leger  (10th  or 
11th  century),  has  with  all  its  variety  some  general  and 
permanent  characteristics  :  it  is  rh^-med,  and  it  is  composed 
of  a  definite  number  of  syllables  certain  of  which  have  the 
syllabic  accent.  This  form  has  evident  affinity  with  the 
rhythmic  Latin  versification,  of  which  specimens  exist  from 
the  close  of  the  Roman  empire  in  ecclesiastical  poetry. 
The  exact  type  of  Romanic  verse  is  not  found,  however, 
in  this  ecclesiastical  Latin  poetry;  the  latter  was  not 
popular,  and  it  may  be  assumed  that  there  was  a  popular 
variety  of  rhythmic  poetry  from  which  Romanic  verse  is 
derived. 

Again,  as  regards  the  substance,  the  poetic  material,  we 
find  nothing  in  the  earliest  Provencal  which  is  strictly 
popular.  Tlie  extremely  personal  compositions- of  William 
rX  have  nothing  in  common  with  folklore.  They  are 
subjective  poetry  addressed  to  a  very  limited  and  probably 
rather  aristocratic  audience.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
the  Boetius  poem,  though  it  belongs  to  the  quite  different 
species  of  edifying  literature;  at  any  rate  it  is  not  popular 
poetry.  Vernacular  compositions  seem  to  have  been  at 
first  produced  for  the  Amusement,  or  in  the  case  of  religious 
poetry  for  the  edification,  of  that  part  of  lay  society  which 
had  leisure  and  lands,  and  reckoned  intellectual  pastime 
among  the  good  things  of  life.  Gradually  this  class, 
intelligent,  but  with  no  Latin  education,  enlarged  the  circle 
of  its  ideas.  In  the  12th  century  and  still  more  in. the  13th, 
historical  works  and  popular  treatises  on  contemporary 
science  were  composed  for  its  use  in  the  only  language  it 
understood;  and  vernacular. literature  continued  gradually 
tc  develop  partly  on  original  lines  and  partly  by  borrow- 
ing from  the  literature  of  the  "clerks."  But  in  the  11th 
century  vernacular  poetry  was  still  rather  limited,  and  has 
hardly  any  higher  object  than  the  »musc;i\ent  and  edifica- 
tion of  the  upper  classes.  An  aristocratic  poetry  like  the 
oldest  Provencal  cannot  bo  the  production  of  shepherds 
and  husbandmen;  and  there  is  no  probability  that  it  was 
invented  or  even  very  notably  improved  by  William  IX.- 

From  what  class  of  persons  then  did  it  proceed  1  Latin 
chroniclers  of  the  Middle  Ages  mention  a.%  joculares,  jocula- 
tores,  men  of  a  class  not  very  highly  esteemed  whose  pro- 
fession consisted  in  amusing  their  audience  either  by  what 
we  still  call  jugglers'  tricks,,  by  exhibiting  performing 
animals,  or  by  fecitationand  song.  They  are  called  joglars 
in  Provencal,  yo!<<7/erj!  or  joughors  in  French.  A  certain 
Barnaldus,  siy\eA  jnglarius,  appears  as  witness  in  1058  to' 
a  charter  of  the  chartulary  of  Saint  Victor  at  Marseilles. 
In  HOG  the  act  of  foundation  of  a  saha  terra  in  Roucrguo 


specifies  that  neither  knight  nor  man-at-arms  ^orjoculaior 
is  to  reside  in  the  village  about  to  be  created.  These 
individuab — successors  of  the  mimi  and  the  thymelici  of 
antiquity,  who  were  professional  amusers  of  the  public — 
wci;e  the  first  authors  of  poetry  in  the  vernacular  both  in 
the  south  and  in  the  north  of  France.  To  the  upper 
classes  who  welcomed  them  to  their  castles  they  supplied 
that  sort  of  entertainment  now  sought  at  the  theatre  or 
in  books  of  light  literature.  There  were  certain  of  them 
who,  leaving  buffoonery  to  the  ruder  and  less  intelligent 
members  of  the  profession,  devoted  themselves  to  the 
composition  of  pieces .  intended  for  singing  and  conse- 
quently in  verse.  In  the  north,  where  manners  were  not 
so  refined  and  where  the  taste  for  warlike  adventure  pre- 
vailed, the  jongleurs  produped  chansons  de  geste  full  of 
tales  of  battle  and  combat.  In  the  courts  of  the  southern 
nobles,  where  wealth  was  more  abundant  and  a  life  of  ease 
and  pleasure  was  consequently  indulged  in,  they  produced 
love  songs.  There  is  probably  a  large  amount  of  truth  in 
the  remark  made  by  Dante  in  chapter  xxv.  of  his  Vita 
Nuova,'  that  the  first  to  compose  in  the  vulgar  tongue  did 
so  because  he  wished  to  be  understood  by  a  lady  who 
would  have  found  it  difficult  to  follow  Latin  verses.^  And 
in  fact  there  are  love  songs  among  the  pieces  by  .William  of 
Poitiers ;  and  the  same  type  preponderates  among  the 
compositions  of  the  troubadours  who  came  immediately 
after  him.  But  it  is  worthy  of  note  that  in  all  this  vast 
body  of  love  poetry  there  is  no  epithalamium  nor  any 
address  to  a  marriageable  lady.  _  The  social  conditions  of 
the  south  of  France  in  the  feudal  period  explain  in  great 
measure  the  powerful  development  of  this  kind  of  poetr}', 
and  also  its  peculiar  characteristics — the  profound  respect, 
the  extreme  deference  of  the  poet  towards  the  lady  whom 
he  addresses.  Rich  heiresses  were  married  young,  often 
when  hardly  out  of  their  girlhood,  and  most  frequently 
without  their  fancy  being  consulted.  But  they  seem  after 
marriage  to  have  enjoyed  great  liberty.  Eager  for  plea- 
sure and  greedy  of  praise,  the  fair  ladies  of  the  castle 
became  the  natural  patronesses  of  the  mesnie  or  household 
of  men-at-arms  and  jongleurs  whom  tiieir  husbands  main- 
tained in  their  castles.  Songs  of  love  addressed  to  them 
soon  became  an  accepted  and  almost  conventional  form  of 
literature ;  and,  as  in  social  position  the  authors  were 
generally  far  below  those  to  whonl  they  directed  their 
amorous  plaints,  this  kind  of  poetry  was  always  distin- 
guished by  great  reser\'e  and  an  essentially  respectful  style. 
From  the  beginning  the  sentiments,  real  or  assumed,  of 
the  poets  are  expressed  in  such  a  refined  and  guarded  style 
that  some  historians,  overestimating  the  virtue  of  the 
ladies  of  that  time,  have  been  misled  to  the  belief  that  the 
love  of  the  troubadour  for  the  mistress  of  his  thoughts  was 
generally  platonic  and  conventional. 

The  conditions  undfer  which  Romanic  poetry  arose  in  the 
south  of  France  being  thus  determined  as  accurately  as 
the  scarcity  of  documents  allows,  we  now  proceed  to  give 
a  survey  of  the  various  forms  of  Proven<;al  literature, 
chronological  order  being  followed  in  each  instance.  By 
this  arrangement  the  wealth  of  each  form  will  be  better 
displayed  ;  and,  as  it  is  rare  in  the  south  of  Franco  for  the 
same  person  to  distinguish  himself  in  more  than  one  of 
them,  there  will  bo  generally  no  occasion  to  introduce  the 
same  author  in  different  sections. 

Podry  <f  the  Troubadours. — Though  he  was  certainly 
not  the  creator  of  the  lyric  poetry  of  southern  France, 
William,  count  of  Poitiers,  by  personally  cultivating  it  gave 
it  a  position  of  honour,  and  indirectly  contributed  in  a 
very  powerful  degree  to  insure  its  development  and  pre- 

'  "  E  lo  prinio  cho  cotncncio  a  dire  nicoroo  poota  volg»ro  «1  mos.^n 
peruclio  voUo  fnro  intcnilcrc  lo  nue  parolo  a  donna  alia  quale  era  mala- 
gevijlo  ad  ininndcra  i  rcrsi  latini.'' 

XIX.  no 


874 


PROVENQAL 


[UTEKATUKE. 


servation.  Shortly  after  him  centres  of  poetic  activity 
make  their  appearance  in  various  pla("is — first  in  Limousin 
and  Gascony.  In  the  former  province  lived  a  viscount 
of  Ventadour,  Eble,  who  during  the  second  part  of  William 
of  Poitiers's  life  seems  to  have  been  brought  into  relation 
with  him,  and  according  to  a  contemporary  historian, 
Geffrei,  prior  of  Vigeois,  erat  valde  gratiosus  in  cantUenis. 
We  possess  none  of  his  compositions ;  but  under  hb  influ- 
ence Bernart  of  Ventadour  was  trained  to  poetry,  who, 
though  only  the  son  of  one  of  the  serving-men  of  the 
castle,  managed  to  gain  the  love  of  the  lady  of  Venta- 
dour, and,  when  on  the  discovery  of  their  amonr  he  had 
to  depart  elsewhere,  received  a  gracious  welcome  from 
Eleanor  of  Guienne,  consort  (from  1152).of  Henry  11.  of 
England.  Of  Bemart's '  compositions  we  possess  about 
fifty  songs  of  elegant  simplicity,  some  of  which  may  be 
taken  as  the  most  perfect  specimens  of  love  poetry  Pro- 
ven5al  literature  has  ever  produced.  Eernart  must  therefore 
have  been  in  repute  before  the  middle  of  the  12  th  century ; 
and  his  poetic  career  extended  well  on  towards  its  close. 
At  the  same  period,  or  probably  a  little  earlier,  flourished 
Cercamon,  a  poet  certainly  inferior  to  Bernart,  to  judge 
by  the  few  pieces  he  has  left  us,  but  nevertheless  of 
genuine  importance  among  the  troubadours  both  because 
of  his  early  date  and  because  definite  information  regard- 
ing him  has  been  preserved.  He  was  a  Gascon,  and 
composed,  says  his  old  biographer,  "pastorals"  according 
to  the  ancient  cvistom  {pastorelas  a  la  marsa  aniiga). 
This  is  the  record  of  the  appearance  in  the  south  of  France 
of  a  poetic  form  which  ultimately  acquired  large  develop- 
ment. The  period  at  which  Cercamon  lived  is  determined 
by  a  piece  where  he  alludes  very  clearly  to  the  approaching 
marriage  of  the  king  of  .Fraijce,  Louis  VII.,  with  Eleanor 
of  Guienne  (1137).  Among  the  earliest  troubadours  may 
also  be  reckoned  Marcabrun,  a  pupil  of  Cercamon's,  from 
whose  pen  we  have  about  forty  pieces,  those  with  dates 
ranging  from  1135  to  1148  or  thereabout.  This  poet  has 
great  originality  of  thought  and  style.  His  songs,  several 
of  which  are  historical,  are  free  from  the  commonplaces  of 
their  class,  and  contain  curious  strictures  on  the  corruo- 
tions  of  the  time. 

We  cannot  here  do  more  than  ennmerate  the  leading 
troubadours  and  briefly  indicate  in  what  conditions  their 
poetry  was  developed  and  through  what  circumstances  it 
fell  into  decay  and  finally  disappeared : — Peter  of  Auvergne 
(Peire  d'Alvernha),  who  in  certain  respects  must  be  classed 
with  Marcabrun ;  Arnaut  Daniel,  remarkable  for  his  com- 
plicated versification,  the  inventor  of  the  ststina,  a  poetic 
form  for  which  Dante  and  Petrarch  express  an  admiration 
difficult  for  us  to  understand ;  Arnolt  of  Mareuil  (Arnaut 
de  Maroill),  who,  while  less  famous  than  Arnaut  Daniel, 
certainly  surpasses  him  in  elegant  simplicity  of  form  and 
delieacy  of  sentiment;  Bertran  do  Bom,  now  the  most 
generally  known  of  all  the  troubadours  on  account  of  the 
part  he  played  both  by  his  sword  and  his  druentescs  in  the 
struggle  between  Henry  IL  of  England  and  his  rebel  sons; 
Peire  Vidal  of  Toulouse,  a  poet  of  varied  inspiration,  who 
grew  rich  with  gifts  bestowed  on  him  by  the  greatest 
nobles  of  his  time;  Guiraut  de  Borneil,  lo  maestre  dels 
trobadors,  and  at  any  rate  master  in  the  art  of  the  so-called 
"close"  style  (trobar  clus),  though,  he  has  also  left  us 
Doems  of  charming  simplicity;  Gaucelm  Faidit,  from  whom 
we  have  a  touching  lament  (planh)  on  the  death  of  Richard 
Coenr  de  Lion;  Folquet  of  Marseilles,  the  most  powerful 
thinker  among  the  poets  of  the  south,  who  from-  being  a 
troubadour  became  first  a  monk,  then  an  abbot,  and  finally 
bishop  of  Toulouse. 

It  is)  aot  without  interest  to- discover  fromwhat  class  of 
Bocietythe  truubadours  came.  Many  of  them,  there  is  no 
doubt,  had  a  very  humble  origin,    Bernart  of  Ventadooi^ 


father  was  a  servant,  Peire  Vidal's  a  maker  of  furred 
garments,  Perdigon's  a  fisher.  Others  belonged  to  the 
bourgeoisie:  Peire  d'Alve.nha,  for  example,  Peire  Baimon 
of  Toulouse,  Elias  Fonsalada.  More  rarely  we  see  traders' 
sons  becoming  troubadours ;  this  was  the  case  with  Folquet 
of  Marseilles  and  Aimeric  de  Pegulhan.  A  great  many 
were  clerics,  or  at  least  studied  for  the  church, — for 
instance,  Arnaut  of  Mareuil,-  Hugh  of  Saint  Circq  (Uc  de 
Saint  Circ),  Aimeric  de  Belenoi,  Hugh  Brunet,  Peire 
Cardinal ;  some  had  even  taken  orders — the  monk  of 
Montaudon,  the  monk  Gaubert  of  Puicibot.  Ecclesiastical 
authority  did  not  always  tolerate  ithis  breath  of  discipline. 
Gui  d'Uissel,  canon  and  troubadour,  was  obliged 'by  the 
injunction  of  the  pontifical  legate  to  give  up  his  song- 
making.  One  point  is  particulariy  striking — the  number 
of  nobles  (usually  poor  knights  whose  incomes  were  in- 
sufficient to  support  their  rank)  who  became  troubadours, 
or  even,  by  a  greater  descent,  jongleurs — Baimon  d» 
Miraval,  Pons  de  CapdoiU,  Guillem  Azemax,  Cadenet, 
Peirol,  Eaimbaut  de  Vacqueiras,.and  many  mere.  There 
is  no  doubt  they  betook  themselves  to  poetry  not  merely 
for  their  own  pleasure,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  gifts  to  be 
obtained  from  the  nobles  whose  courts  they  frequented. 
A  very  different  position  was  occupied  by  such  important 
persons  as  Wiliiaim  of  Poitiers^  Eaimbaut  of  Orange,  th« 
viscount  of  Saint  Antonin,  William  of  Berga,  and  Blacatz, 
who  made  poetry  for  their  own  amusement,  but  contributed 
not  a  little,  by  thus  becoming  troubadours,  to  raise  the 
profession. 

The  profession  itself  was  entirely  dependent  on  the  exist- 
ence  and  prosperity  of  the  feudal  courts.  The  troubadours 
could  hardly  expect  to  obtain  a  livelihood  from  any  other 
quarter  than  the  generosity  of  the  groat.  It  will  conse- 
quently be  well  to  mention  the  more  important  at  least  of 
those  princes  wh6  are  known  to  have  been  patrons  and 
some  of  tiiem  practisers  of  the  poetic  art.  They  are 
arranged  approximately  in  geographical  order,  and  after 
each  are  inserted  the  names  of  those  troubadours  with 
whom  they  were  connected. 

France. — Eleanoe  op  GinE>n<%  Bernart  of  Yentadoor  (Venta- 
dom) ;  Hext.t  Cuetmantle,  son  of  Henry  II. -of  liugland,  Bertran 
de  Bom ;  Eichard  Cceue  de  Lion,  Arnaut  Daniel,  Peira  Vidal, 
Folquet  of  Marseilles,  Gaucelm  Faidit ;  Emiexgakde  or  Naebonnb 
(1143-1192),  Bernart  of  Ventadour,  Peire  Kogier,  Peire  d'Alvernha ; 
Eaimom  v.,  count  of  Toulouse  (Hi3-1194),  Bernart  of  Ventadour, 
Feire  Kogier,  Peire  Eaimon,  Hugh  Brunet,  Peire  Vidal,  Folquet 
of  Marseilles,  Bernart  of  Durfort ;  nAliiON  VI.,  count  of  Toulouss 
(119i-1222),  Eaimon  de  Miiaval,  Aimeric  de  Pegulhan,  Aimeric  do 
Belenoi,  Ademar  lo  Negre ;  Auphokse  II.,  count  of  Provence  (1185- 
1209),  Elias  de  Barjols  ;  Kaimon  Beresgee  IV.,  count  of  Provence 
(1209-1245),  Sordel ;  Baekal,  viscount  of  MarseUles  (died  c.  1192), 
Peire  Vidal,  Folquet  of  Marseilles ;  William  VIII.,  lord  of  Mont- 
pellier  (1172-12D4),  Peire  Eaimon,  Arnaut  jie  Mareuil,  Folquet  of 
MarseUlcs,  Guiraut  de  Calanson,  Aimeric deSarlat;  Robeet,  dauphin 
of  Anrergne  (1169-1234),  Peirol,  Perdigon,  Pierre  de  Maonsac, 
Gaucelm  Fflidit ;  Guillatjme  dv  Bavs,  prince  of  Orange  (1182-, 
121S),  Eaimbaut  de  Vaequeiras,  Perdigon;  Savaeio  de  MAULfioK 
(1200-1230),  Gaucelm  de  Puicibot,  Hugh  of  Saint  Circq ;  Blaoatz, 
a  Provenjal  noble  (1200  ?-1236),  Cadenet,  Jean  d'Aubusson,  Sordel, 
Guillem  Figueira ;  Hekey  I.,  count  of  Eodez  (1208-12221), 
Huffh  of  Saint  Circq  ;  perhaps  Htjqh  IV.,  count  of  Eodez  (1222?- 
1274),  and  Hbney  XL,  count  of  Eodez  (1274-1302),.QuirautEiqmer, 
Folquet  de  Lunel,  Serveri  de  Girone,  Bertran  Cartonel ;  Nunyo 
Sanchez,  count  of  EoussiBon  (died  in  1241),  Aimeric  de  Belenoi; 
Beenaed  IV.,  count  of  Astarae  (1249-1291),  Guiraut  Eiquieii 
Amanieu  de  Sesca&.  .     _     . 

Spain.— AlvbovseIL,  kingof  Aragon  (1162-1196),  Peire  Kogier, 
Peire  Eaimon,  Peire  Vidal,. Cadenet,  Guiraut  de  Cabreira,  Elias  de 
Barjols,  the  monk  of  Montaudon,  Hugh  Brunet;  Peteb  II.,  king 
of  Aragon  (1196-1213),  Eaimon  de  Miraval,  Aimeric  de  Pegulhan, 
Perdigon,  Ademar  loSegre,  Hugh  of  Saint  Circq;  James  I.,  King  ol 
Aragon  (1213-1276),  Peire  Cardinal,  Bernart  Sicart  de  Maruejols, 
Guiraut  Eiquier,  At  de  Mons ;  Pexee  III.,  king  of  Aragoi 
(1276-1285),  Paulet  of  Marseilles,  Guiraut  Riquier,  Sen-en  dt 
Girone ;  Alphonso  IX.,'king  of  Leon  (1138-1214),  Peire  Eogiei 
Guiraut  de  BorneU,  Aimeric  de  Pegulhan,  Hugh  of  Saint  Circq 
AlPBONSO  X..  king  of  CastUe  11252-1284),  Bertran.de  Iajwumh 


/.ITEEATUEE.l 


PROVENCAL 


875 


Bonifaci  Calvo,  Guiraut  Riqnier,  Folquet  de  Luncl,  Arnaut  Plages, 
Bertran  Carbonel. 

Jlaly.—RoniFAeK  II.,  marquis  of  Montferrat  (1192-1207),  Peire 
Vidal,  Raimbaut  de  Vacqueiras,  Elias  Cairel,  Gaucelm  Faidit(?); 
Fbkuerick  II.,  emperor  (1216-1250),  Jean  d'Aubusson,  Aimeric  de 
Fegtilhan,  Guillera  Figueira ;  Aizo  VI.,  marquis  of  Este  (1196- 
1212),  Aimeric  de  Peguihan,  Rambertin  do  Buvalel;  Azzo  VIII., 
marquis  of  Este  (1215-1264),  Aimeric  do  Pegulhan. 

The  first  thing  that  strikes  one  in  this  list  is  that,  while 
the  troubadours  find  protectors  in  Spain  and  Italy,  they 
do  not  seem  to  have  been  ■welcomed  in  French-speaking 
countries.  This,  however,  must  not  be  taken  too  abso- 
lutely. Provencal  poetry  was  appreciated  in  the  north  of 
France.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  when  Constance, 
daughter  of  one  of  the  counts  of  Aries,  was  married  in  998 
to  Robert,  king  of  France,  slie  brought  along  with  her 
Provencal  jongleurs.  Poems  by  troubadours  are  quoted  in 
the  French  romances  of  the  beginning  of  the  13th  century; 
some  of  them  are  transcribed  in  the  old  collections  of 
French  songs,  and  the  preacher  Robert  de  Sorbon  informs 
us  in  a  curious  passage  that  one  day  a  jongleur  sang  a 
poem  by  Folquet  of  Marseilles  at  the  court  of  the  king  of 
France.  But  in  any  case  it  is  easy  to  understand  that, 
the  countries  of  the  langue  d'oui  having  a  full  developed 
literature  of  their  own  suited  to  the  taste  of  the  people, 
the  troubadours  generally  preferred  to  go  to  regions  where 
they  had  less  to  fear  in  the  way  of  competition. 

The  decline  and  fall  of  troubadour  poetry  was  mainly  due 
to  political  causes.'  When  about  the  beginning  of  the  13th 
century  the  Albigensian  war  had  ruined  a  large  number 
of  the  nobles  and  reduced  to  lasting  poverty  a  part  of  the 
south  of  France,  the  profession  of  troubadour  ceased  to  be 
lucrative.  It  was  then  that  many  of  those  poets  went  to 
spend  their  last  days  in  the  north  of  Spain  and  Italy,  where 
ProveuQal  poetry  had  for  rnore  than  one  generation  been 
highly  esteemed.  Following  their  example,  other  poets  who 
were  not  natives  of  the  south  of  France  began  to  compose 
in  Provencal,  and  this  fashion  continued  till,  about  the 
middle  of  the  13th  century,  they  gradually  abandoned  the 
foreign  tongue  in  northern  Italy,  and  somewhat  later  in 
Catalonia,  and  took  to  singiqg  the  same  airs  in  the  local 
dialects.  About  the  same  time  in  the  Provencal  region 
the  flame  of  poetry  had  died  out  save  in  a  few  places — 
Narbonne,  Rodez,  Foix,  and  Astarac — where  it  kept  burn- 
ing feebly  for  a  little  longer.  In  the  14th  century  com- 
position in  the  language  of  the  country  was  still  practised ; 
but  the  productions  of  this  period  are  mainly  works  for 
instruction  and  edification,  translations  from  Latin  or  some- 
limes  even  from  French,  with  an  occasional  romance.  As 
for  the  poetry  of_  the  troubadours,  it  was  dead  for  ever. 

Form. — Originally  the  poems  of.  the  troubadours  were  intended 
to  bo  sung.  The  poet  usually  composed  the  music  as  well  as  the 
words  ;  and  in  several  cases  ho  owed  his  fame  more  to  liis  musical 
than  to  his  literary  ability.  Two  manuscripts  preserve  specimens 
of  the  music  of  tho  troubadours;  but,  as  tiio  subject  has  not  as 
yet  Ijcen  investigated,  we  arc  stilJ  ignorant  of  one  of  the  elements 
}(  their  success.  Tho  following  ore  the  principal  poetic  forms 
■'■hich  they  employed.  The  oldest  and  most  usual  generic  term  is 
vers,  by  whicli  is  understood  any  composition  intended  to  bo  sung, 
no  matter  what  the  subject.  At  tho  close  of  tlio  12tli  century  it 
became  customary  to  call  all  verso  treating  of  love  caneo, — tho 
namo  vers  being  then  more  generally  resorved  for  |x)cm8  on  other 
themes.  Tho  sirvenlcse  dilfers  from  tho  vers  and  tho  canso  only 
by  its  subject,  bciiig  for  tho  most  part  devoted  to  moral  and 
political  topics.  Peire  Carilinal  is  celebrated  for  tho  sirvmlcscs 
he  composed  against  tho  clergy  of  his  time.  Tho  ]iolitical  poems 
of  Bortran  do  Born  nro  sinvrUcscs.  Tlicre  is  reason  to  believe  that 
originally  this  word  meant  simply  a  poem  composed  by  a  sirvcnl 
C^at.  serviens)  or  man-at-arms.  Tho  sireenUsc  Is  very  frequently 
composed  in  tho  form,  sometimes  ovon  with  the  rhymes,  of  a  popu- 
1  /  song,  so  that  it  might  bo  sung  to  tho  same  air.  Tlio  tcmon 
i,  \  debate  between  two  interlocutor.^,  each  of  whom  has  a  Htinza  in 
ttrn.  Tho  yvrrtimcrt  (Fr.  jcujiarli)  in  aluo  a  poetic  ilebate,  but  it 
di  fers  from  tho  tcnsoii  in  so  far  that  tho  range  of  debato  is 
limited.  In  tho  first  stinza  one  of  the  partiirm  proposes  two 
•Itematives ;  tho  other  partner  chooses  one  of  tlicm  ami  defends 


it,  and  tho  opposite  side  remains  to  be  defended  by  the  original  pro- 
pounder.  Often  in  a  final  couplet  a  judge  or  arbiter  is  aijpointed 
to  decide  between  the  parties.  This  poetic  game  is  mentioned  by 
William,  count  of  Poitiers,  at  the  end  of  the  11th  century.  Tho 
pastcrcta,  afterwards  paslorda,  is  in  general  an  account  of  the  love 
adventures  of  a  knight  with  a  shepherdess.  All  these  classes  have 
one  form  capable  of  endless  variations,  five  or  morfEtauzas  and  one 
or  two  envois.  The  dansa  and  balada,  intended  to  mark  the  time 
iu  dancing,  are  pieces  -with  a  refrain.  The  alba,  which  has  alto  a 
refrain,  is,  as  the  name  indicates,  a  waking  or  morning  song  at  thr 
•dawning  of  tho  day.  All  those  classes  are  in  stanzas.  The  dcscort 
is  not  thus  divided,  and  consequently  it  must  be  set  to  music  right 
through.  Its  name  is  derived  from  the  fact  that, its  component  parts 
not  being  equal,  there  is  a  kind  of  "  discord  "  between  them.  It  is 
generally  reserved  for  themes  of  love.  Other  kinds  i5f  lyric  poonis, 
sometimes  with  nothing  new  about  them  except  the  name,  were 
developed  iu  the  sodth  of  France ;  but  those  here  mentioned  ai« 
the  more  important. 

Narrative  Poetry. — Although  the  strictly  lyric  poetry  of  the 
troubadours  forms  the  most  original  part  of  ProveiKpil  literature, 
it  must  not  bo  supposed  that  the  remainder  is  of  trilling  import- 
ance. Karrative  poetry,  especially,  received  in  the  south  of  France 
a  great  development,  and,  thanks  to  recent  discoveries,  a  consider- 
ate body  of  it  has  already  become  known.  Several  classes  must 
bo  distinguished  : — the  chanson  dc  gcste  legendary  or  historic,  the 
romance  of  adventure,  and  the  novel.  Northern  France  remains 
emphatically  the  native  country  of  the  chanson  dc  gcstc  ;  but, 
although  in  the  south  different  social  conditions,  a  more  delioati 
taste,  and  a  higher  state  of  civilization  prevented  a  similar  pro- 
fusion of  tales  of  war  and  heroic  deeds,  Provcn9al  literature  has 
some  highly  important  specimens  of  this  class.  The  first  place 
belongs  to  Qirart  dc  Roussillon,  a  poem  of  ten  thousand  verses,  which 
relates  the  struggles  of  Charles  Martel  with  his  powerfid  vassal  the 
Burgundian  Gerard  of  EoussUlon.  It  is  a  literary  production  of 
rare  excellence  and  of  exceptional  interest  for  tlio  history  of  civiliza- 
tion in  tho  11th  and  12th  centuries.  Gerard  of  Koussillon  belongs 
only  within  certain  limits  to  the  literature  of  southern  France. 
The  recension  which  we  possess  appears  to  have  been  made  on  tho 
borders  of  Limousin  and  Poitou  ;  but  it  is  clearly  no  more  than  a 
recast  of  an  older  poem  no  longer  extant,  probably  cither  of  French 
or  at  least  Burgundian  origin.  To  Limousin  also  seems  to  belong 
tho  poem  of  Aigar  amd  itaurin,  (12th  century),  of  which  we  have 
unfortunately  only  a  fragment  so  short  that  the  subject  cannot  bo 
clearly  made  out.  Of  less  heroic  character  is  the  poem  of  Daurel 
and  Jkton  (end  of  the  12th  or  beginning  of  the  13th  century),  con- 
nected with  the  cycle  of  pliarlemagne,  but  by  the  romiantic  charact«r 
of  the  events  more  like  a  regular  romance  of  adventure.  We  can- 
not, however,  form  a  complete  judgment  in  regard  to  it,  as  tho 
only  lis.  in  which  it  has  been  preserved  is  defective  at  tlie  close, 
and  that  to  an  amount  there  is  no  means  of  ascertaining,  ilidway 
between  legend  and  liistory  may  be  classified  thoProvom^l  Chanson 
of  Aittioch,  a  fragment  of  which,  700  Torses  in  extent,  has  hern 
recently  recovered  in  Madrid  and  ptiblished  in  Arcidves  de  VOriciU 
Latin,  voL  ii.  To  history  proper  belongs  tho  chanson  of  the 
crusade  agauist  tho  Albigensians,  which,  in  its  present  state,  is 
composed  of  two  poems  one  tacked  to  tho  other :  the  first,  contain- 
ing the  events  from  tho  beginning  of  tho  crusade  till  1213,  is  tho 
work  of  a  certain  William  of  Tudela,  a  moderate  supporter  of  tho 
cnisadcrs ;  the  second,  from  1213  to  1218,  is  by  a  vehement  opponent 
of  tho  enterprise.  The  language  and  stylo  of  llic  two  parts  are  no 
loss  dillercnt  than  the  opinions.  Finally,  about  12S0  a  native  of 
Touloupo  named  Guillaumo  Anelier  composed,  in  the  chanson  de 
gesto  form,  a  poem  on  tho  war  carried  on  in  Navarro  by  the  French 
lu  1276  and  1277.  It  is  an  historical  work  of  little  literary  merit 
All  tlieso  poems  are,  as  chansons  de  gesto  ought  to  be,  in  stanzas 
of  indelinito  length,  with  a  single  rhyme.  (Jcrard  of  linxusUlon, 
Aigar  and  ifaurin,  and  IJanrcl  and  lieton  are  in  verses  of  ten,  tho 
otlicra  in  versos  of  twelve  syllables.  Tho  pceiiliarity  of  the  Torsi- 
fication  in  Gerard  is  that  the  panso  in  the  lino  occurs  after  the  sixth 
syllal>lo,  and  not,  as  ie  U8unl,  after  the  fourth.     Like  tho  chanson 

do  goste,  tho  romance  of  .n!     • •  ■■  '  ■■'     i--'  •'■   ■ ■jcd  in 

the  south  ;  but  it  is  to  be  1  I  this 

class  must  have  jKriHlied,  '  u'  fact 

that,  with  few  oxceptions,  the  narmtivo  {lOi'ius  which  havo  come 
down  to  UR  are  enrh  known  by  «  ilnpl"  ninnnocript  onlv.  Wo 
]>06ao«H  bi:      ■  -  fconi- 

jiosed  in  (  mg  nl 

Aragrm,  jk,,..-.        ....,.■  ,  ..  ^ .  , »i  dt 

la  Hurra.     Tlio  first  two  ;i  1  with  the  Arthurian  cycle 

Javfri  is  an  elegant  and  in  1 1;  ;  lilandin  of  Comuall  the 

dullest  an<l  most  insipid  oiiu  can  well  imagine.  Tho  ronianco  of 
Ouillnnde  la  JiiirratvWRan  unlikely  story  also  found  in  Boccaccio'e 
J^ecaiiicroH  (2d  Day,  viii.).  It  is  rather  a  poor  i>oein  ;  but  as  a 
contribution  to  lilerarj*  history  it  h.is  tlin  advniit.igi' of  being  dated. 
It  was  cnmpleteil  in  131^,  niiil  is  dodicali'd  to  a  noble  of  l.nngitedoc 
railed  Sicnrt  de  Mnntaut.  Connected  witb  the  romance  of  advrn 
turc  ia  tiic  novel  (in  Provencal  no»is,  always  in  tho  plural),  which 


876 


PEOVtiNCAL 


[LITEEiTUEJt 


is  originally  an  account  of  an  event  "newly"  happened.  The 
novel  must  have  been  at  first  in  the  south  what,  as  we  see  by  the 
Deeaineron,  it  was  in  Italy,  a  society  pastime, — the  wits  in  turn 
relating  anecdotes,  true  or  imaginary,  which  they  think  likely  to 
•muse  their  auditors.  But  before  long  this  kind  of  production  was 
treated  in  verse,  the  form  adonted  being  that  of  the  romances  of 
adventure — octosyllabic  verses  rhyming  in  pairs.  Some  of  those 
novels  which  have  come  down  to  us  may  be  ranked  ^ith  the  most 
p'acefiil  works  in  Proven9al  literature  ;  two  are  from  the  pen  of  the 
Catalan  author  Raimon  Vidal  de  Besalu.  One,  the  Castia-gilos 
(the  Chastisement  of  the  Jealous  Han),  is  a  treatment,  not  easily 
matched  for  elcgauce,  of  a  frequently-handled  theme — the  story  of 
the  husband  who,  in  order  to  entrap  his  wife,  takes  the  disguise  of 
the  lover  whom  she  is  expecting  and  receives  with  satisfaction  blows 
Intended,  as  he  thinks,  for  him  whose  part  he  is  playing  ;  the  other, 
The  Judgment  of  Love,  is  the  recital  of  a  question  of  the  law  of  love, 
departing  considerably  from  the  subjects  usually  treated  in  the 
novels.  Mention  may  also  be  made  of  the  novel  of  The  Parrot  by 
Arnaut  de  Carcassonne,  in  which  the  principal  character  is  a  parrot 
of  great  eloquence  and  ability,  who  succeeds  marvellously  in 
iccuring  the  success  of  the  amorous  enterprises  of  his  master. 
Novels  came  to  be  extended  to  the  proportions  of  a  long  romance. 
Flamenea,  which  belongs  to  the  novel  type,  has  stiU  over  eight 
thousand  verses,  though  the  only  MS.  of  it  has  lost  some  leaves 
both  at  the  beginning  and  at  the  end.  This  poem,  composed  in  all 
probability  in  1234,  is  the  story  of  a  lady  who  by  very  ingenious 
devices,  not  unlike  those  employed  in  the  Miles  Gloriosus  of 
Plautus,  succeeds  in  eluding  the  vigilance  of  her  jealous  husband. 
No  analysis  can  bo  given  here  of  a  work  the  action  of  which  is  so 
highly  complicated  ;  suffice  it  to  remark  that  there  is  no  book  in 
fciediseval  literature  which  betokens  so  much  quickness  of  intellect 
and  is  so  instructive  in  regard  to  the  manners  and  usages  of  polite 
•ociety  in  the  13th  century.  We  know  that  novels  were  in  great 
favour  in  the  south  of  France,  altliough  the  specimens  preserved 
are  not  very  numerous.  Statements  made  by  Francesco  de  Bar- 
berino  (early  part  of  14th  century),  and  recently  brought  to  light, 
give  us  a  glimpse  of  several  works  of  this  class  which  have  been  lost. 
From  the  south  of  France  the  novel  spread  into  Catalonia,  where 
we  find  in  the  14th  century  a  number -of  novels  in  verse  very 
«imilar  to  the  Provenfal  ones,  and  into  Italy,  where  in  general  the 
prose  form  has  been  adopted. 

Didactic  and  Rcligioiis  Poetry. — Compositions  -intended  for 
mstruction,  correction,  and  edification  wefe  very  numerous  in  the 
touth  of  France  as  well  as  elsewhere,  and,  in  spite  of  the  enormous 
losses  sustained  by  Proveh9al  literature,  much  of  this  kind  still 
remains.  But  it  is  seldom  that  such  works  have  much  originality 
Off  literary  value.  Originality  was  naturally  absent,  as  the  aim  of 
the  writers  was  mainly  to  bring  the  teachings  contained  in  Latin 
works  within  the  reach  of  lay  hearers  or  readers.  Literary  value 
was  not  of  course  excluded  by  the  lack  of  originality,  but  by  an 
anfortunate  chance  the  greater  part  of  those  who  sought  to  instruct 
or  edify,  and  attempted  to  substitute  moral  works  for  secular  pro- 
ductions in  favour  with  the  people^  were  persons  of  limited  ability. 
If,  is  ueedless  to  enumerate  all  the  lives  of  saints,  all  the  treatises  of 
popular  theology  and  morals,  all  the  books  of  devotion,  all  the  pious 
cmticles,  composed  in  Proven9al  during  the  Jliddle  Ages.  Enough 
to  recall  the  Boetius  poem  (unfortunately  a  mere  fragment)  already 
mentioned  as  one  of  the  oldest  documents  of  the  language,  and 
really  a  remarkable  work.  From  the  multitude  of  saints'  lives  we 
may  single  out  that  of  St  Honorat  of  Lerins  by  Raimon  Feraud 
(about  1300),  which  is  distinguished  by  variety  and  elegance  of 
versification,  but  is  almost  entirely  a  translatiorx  from  Latin. 
Among  poems  strictly  didactic  one  stands  out  by  reason  of  its  great 
extent  (nearly  thirty-five  thousand  verses)  and  the  somewhat 
original  conception  of  its  scheme— the  Breviari  d'amor,  a  vast 
encyclopedia,  on  a  theological  basi3,.composedbythe  Minorite  friar 
Uatfre  Ermengaut  of  Beziers  between  1288  and  1300  or  thereabout. 

Drama. — Twenty  years  ago  it  might  have  been  question.ed 
whether  dramatic  representation  was  known  in  the  south  of  France, 
but  within  that  time  several  short  dramatic  pieces  have  been  pub- 
lished or  described  ;  and  a  considerable  number  of  actual  theatrical 
representations  have  been  found  mentioned  in  the  local  records. 
Everything  of  this  kind  that  we  know  of  belongs  to  the  religious 
drama,  the  oldest  form  in  every  mediaeval  literature.  The  period 
at  which  a  purely  secular  theatre  takes  its  rise  in  most  miarters  is 
the  15th  century  ;  and  by  that  time  there  was  hardly  any  Proven9al 
literature  left  We  possess  in  Proven9al  mysteries  of  Saint  Agnes, 
of  the  Passion,  of  the  Maririage  of  the  Virgin,  all  belonging  to  the 
elose  of  the  13th  century  or  the  first  half  of  the  14th.  In  the  15th 
lentury  there  is  a  fragment  of  a  mystery  of  St  James.  Provence 
properly  so-called,  especially  the  eastern  portion  of  it,  seems  to 
have  been  particularly  fond  of  representations  of  this  sort,  to  judge 
by  the  entries  in  the  local  records.  At  the  close  of  the  15th  and 
the  beginning  of  the  16th  century  many  mysteries  were  played  in 
*hat  part  of  Dauphine  which  corresponds  to  the  present  depart- 
ment of  Hautes-AIpesi  Five  mysteries  of  this  district,  composed 
lud  phiyoJ  somewhere  about  1500  (the  mysteries  of  St  Eustace,  of 


St  Andrew,  of  St  Pons,  cf  Sts  Peter  and  Paul,  and  of  St  Anthony 
of  Vienne),  have  come  dowa  to  us,  and  are  now  (1885)  being  editecU 
The  influence  of  the  contemporary  French  sacred  drama  may  to 
some  extent  be  traced  in  them. 

Prose — Prose  composition  in  the  south  of  France  belongs  to  a 
comparatively  late  stage  of  literary  development ;  and  the  same 
remark  applies  to  the  other  Romanic  countries,  particularly  to 
northern  France,  where  prose  hardly  comes  into  fashion  till  the 
13th  century,  the  prose  of  thf  preceding  century  being  little  else 
than  translations  of  the  books  of  the  Bible  (especially  the  Psalter). 

As  early  as  the  12th  century  we  find  in  the  south  sermons, 
whose  importance  is  more  linguistic  than  literary.  To  the  l?t!i 
century  belong  certain  lives  of  the  troubadours  intended  to  b« 
prefixed  to,  and  to  explain,  their  poems.  They  were  written  befor» 
1250,  when  the  first  anthologies  of  troubadour,  poetry  were  con»- 
piled  ;  and  some  of  them  are  the  work  of  the  troubadour  Hugli  ol 
Saint  Circq.  To  the  same  period  must  be  assigned  Las  Jiazos  de 
trobar  of  tho  troubadour  Raimon  Vidal  de  Besalu  (an  elegant  little 
treatise  touching  on  various  points  of  grammar  and  the  poetic  art), 
and  also  the  Doiiatz  Proensals  of  Hugh  Faidit,  a  writer  otherwis* 
unknown,  who  drew  up  his. purely  grammatical  work  at  the  request 
of  two  natives  of  northern  Italy.  Of  about  the  same  date  are  two 
translations  of  the  New  Testament,  one  of  which,  preserved,  in  MS. 
at  Lyons,  seems  to  have  been  made  for  Albigensians.  A  remark' 
able  work,  both  in  style  and  thought,  is  the  Life  of  St  Douceline, 
who  lived  at  the  close  of  the  13th  century  near  Marseilles,  anil 
founded  an  order  of  Beguines.  In  the  14th.  century  compositions 
in  prose  grew  more  numerous.  Some  rare  local  chronicles  may  ba 
mentioned,  the  most  interesting  being  that  of  Mascaro,  which 
contains  the  annals  of  the  town  of  Bfaiers  from  1338  to  1390. 
Theological  treatises  and  pious  legends  translated  from  Latin  and 
French  also  increase  in  number.  The  leading  prose  work  of  this 
period  is  the  treatise  on  grammar,  poetry,  and  rhetoric  known  by 
the  name  ol  Leys  d Amors.  It  was  composed  in  Toulouse,  shortly 
before  1350,  by  a  group  of  scholars,  and  was  intended  to  fix  tha 
rules  of  the  language  with  a  view  to  the  promotion  of  a  poetical 
renaissance.  For  this  purpose  an  academy  was  founded  which 
awarded  prizes  in  the  shape  of  flowers  to  the  best  compositions  in 
verse.  We  still  possess  the  collection  of  the  pieces  crcHvned  by  this 
academy  during  the  14th  century,  and  a  large  part  of  the  I5th 
{Flors  del  gay  saber).  Unfortunately  they  are  rather  academic 
than  poetic  .  The  Leys  d Amors,  which  was  to  be  the  starting 
point  and  rule  of  the  new  poetry,  is  the  best  production  of  this 
abortive  renaissance.  The  decay  of  Proven9al  literature  arrived 
too  soon  to  allow  of  a  full  development  of  prpse.  The  14th  and 
15th  centuries  were  in  no  respect  a  prosperous  period  for  literature 
in  the  south  of  France.  In  the  15th  century  people  began  to  write 
French  both  in  verse  and  prose  ;  and  from  that  time  Provenjal 
literature  became  a  thing  of  the  past. 

Bibliography. — Fauriel,  Histoire  de  la  poesie  proven^afe  (Tarls,  1S16,  3  vols, 
8vo),  is  quite  Antiquated.  Not  only  are  three-fourths  of  the  woika  In  Proven9al 
poetry  ignored,  but  the  very  idea  of  the  book  is  vitiated  by  the  author's  system 
(now  abandoned),  based  on  the  supposition  that  in  the  south  of  France  there  waa 
an  immense  epic  literatui-e.  The  articles  on  the  troubadours  m  the  ffistoirt 
Utu'rau-e  de  la  France,  by  Ginguen^,  E.  David,  Ac,  miiat  be  consulted  ^ilh 
extreme  caution.  F.  Diez's  Die  Poesie  der  Troubadour*  (Zwickau,  1827,  8ro ; 
new  ed.  by  Bartsch,  1883)  and  his  Leben  und  Werke  der  Troubadours  (Zwickau, 
1829,  8vo;  new  ed.  ijy  Bartsch.  18S2)ai-e  of  gi*eat  excellence  for  the  time  at  which 
they  appeai-ed.  For  the  history  of  Pi'Oven^al  Uterature  In  Spain,  see  Uila  y 
Fontanals.  De  los  Irovadores  en  Espafia  (Barcelona,  1861,  8vo) ;  for  Italy, 
Cavedoni,  Ricerche  storiche  intomo  at  Iroratori  prorunra/i  (Modena,  1844.  8vo); 
A.  Thomas,  Francesco  Barberino  et  la  litterature  proren^ale  en  Italie  (Paris,  1883, 
8vo);  O.  Schultz,  "Die  Lebensverhaltnisse  der  italienischen  Trobadors,"  \nZeiis. 
fur  romanisc/ie  Philologie  (1883).  For  the  bibliography  consult  especially  Bartsch, 
Orutuiriss  zur  Oeschichte  der  provenzaJischen  Literatur  (Elb'eifeld,  1872,  8vo). 
For  texts  the  reader  maybe  refeiTed  to  Raynouard,  Choix  de  potsies  originates  d^ 
Troubadours  (1816-21,  6  vols.  8vo),  and  Lexique  romaii,  ou  diet,  de  la  langue  des 
troubadours,  of  which  vol.  L  (1838)  is  entirely  taken  up  with  texts ;  and  Rochegude, 
Parnasse  oceitaniai  (Toulouse,  1819,  8vo).  All  the  pieces  published  by  Raynouard 
and  Rochegude  have  been  reprinted  without  amendment  by  Mahn,  Die  Werke  der 
Troubaiiours  in  provenz.  Sprache  (Berlin,  8vo,  vol.  i.  1846,  ii.  1855-<i4,  liL  1880, 
iv.,  containing  an  edition  of  the  tioubadotu"  Guiraut  Riquier,  1884).  Tha  same 
editor'a  Oedichte  der  Troubadours  (Berlin,  1856-73)  Is  a  collection  conspicuous 
for  its  want  of  order  and  of  accuracy  (see  Romania,  ill.  303).  Among  editions  of 
Individual  troubadoura  may  be  mentioned — Peire  VidaVs  Lieder,  by  Kai-1  Bartscb 
(Berlin,  1857,  12mo):  Les  derniers  troubadours  de  la  Protence,  by  Paul  Meyer 
(Palis,  1871,  8vo);  Der  Troubadour  Jaufre  Rudei,  tein  Leben  und  seine  Werke, 
by  A.  Summing  (Kiel,  1873,  8vo);  Bertran  de  Bom,  sein  Leben  und  seine  Werke, 
by  A.  Stimming  (Halle,  1879,  8vo);  Ouithem  Figueira,  ein  protenzalischer 
Troubadour,  by  E.  Levy  (Berlin,  1880,  8vo):  Das  Leben  und  die^  Lieder  des 
Troubadours  Peire  Rogier,  by  Carl  Appel  (Berlin,  1S32,  8vo) ;  La  vita  e  te  cpere 
del  trovatore  Amaldo  Danielto,  by  U.  A.  flanello  (Halle,  1883,  8vo).  Among 
editions  of  Provencal  works  of  a  miscellaneous  kind  are — Bartach,  Denkmdler  der 
provenzaUseheil  Literatur  (Stuttgart,  1856,  8vo);  H.  Suchler,  Denkmdler  der  pro- 
venz. Literatur  UTid  Sprache  (HaUe,  1833-85,  2  vols.  Svo);  Fr.  Al-mifage,  Sermons 
du  XII  si^cle  en  vieux  provenjal  (Heilbronn,  1884,  12mo);  Paul  Meyer,  La 
Chanson  de  la  Croisade  contre  les  Atbigeois,  (Paris,  1876-79,  2  vols.  Svo);  Id., 
Dauriel  et  Beton,  Chanson  de  geste provenfale  (Paris,  1880,  8vo);  Id.,  Le  Roman  de 
Flamenea  (Paris,  1865,  8vo);  E.  Stengel,  Die  beiden  dltesten  provenzat.  Oram- 
matiken,  lo  Donatz  proensals  und  las  Razos  de  trobar  (Marbuig,  1878,  Svo); 
Bartsch,  Sancta  Agnes,  provenz.  geistUches  Schautpiel  (Berlin,  1867,  8vo);  Le 
Breviari  d'amor  de  Mat/re  Ermengaud,  published  by  the  Archaeological  Society  of 
Beziers  (Beziers,  1862-80,  2  vols.  Svo);  A.  L.  Sardou,  La  Vida  de  Sant  Honorat, 
legende  en  vers  proven^aux  par  Raymond  Feraud  (Nice  [1875],  8vo).  Document* 
and  disseitations  on  vai-ious  pointg  of  Provencal  literatuie  will  be  found  in  almost 
all  the  volumes  of  Romania  (Paris,  in  progress  since  1873,  Svo),  and  the  Revue dct 
ian(7«Mroma»fs(MonlpelIier,  in  progress  since  ISTO.  Svo).  See  also  the  ether  iou»- 
QaU  devoteU  iu  Gcrmunj  uu^  liu',/  to  the  Koinunic  languages, iiaijim.    (F.  V 


PROVENCE 


877 


PROVENCE  {Provincia),  a  province  of  France  lying  to 
the  extreme  south-east  on  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean, 
bounded  on '  the  W.  by  Languedoc,  on  the  N.  by  Ven- 
aissin  and  Dauphind,  and  on  the  E.  by  Italy.     It  now  forms 
the  departments  of  Bouches-du-Rhone,  Var,  and  Basses- 
AJpes,  with  portions   of  Vaucluse   and  Alpes   Maritimes. 
It  was  divided  into  Upper  Provence,  containing  the  four 
seneschalates  of  Forcalquier,  Castellane,   Sisteron  Digne, 
and  the  Valley  of  Barcelonnette ;   and  Lower  Provence, 
containing  the  eight  seneschalates  of  Aix,  Aries,  Brignoles, 
Grasse,  Marseilles,  Draguignan,  Hyires,  and  Toulon.     In 
ancient  as  in  modern  times  the  most  important  city  was 
Marseilles  (Massilia),  a  chief  seat  of  trade  for  the  Greek 
merchants  of  the  Mediterranean,  who  extended  their  power 
along  the  coast  and  founded  Agde,  Antibes,  Grasse,  and 
Nice.     They  afterwards  called  in  the  aid  of  the  Romans 
(125  B.C.)  against  the  Ligurian  inhabitants  of  the  surround- 
ing country,  and  the  new-comers  soon  made  themselves 
masters  of  the  territory  which  later  formed  the  provinces 
of   Languedoc,  Dauphin^,  and  Provence.     The  new  pro- 
vince, of  which  the  capital  was  Aquis  Sextice  (Aix),  was 
called  Provincia  Gallica  until  the  total  conquest  of  Gaul, 
when  the  name   of   the  district  was  changed  to  Gallia 
Narbonensis.     In  the  4th  century  of  the  Christian  era, 
when   the   greater   part  of  Languedoc,    or  Narbonensis 
Prima,  had   become  subject   to   the   Visigoths,  and   the 
Burgundians  had  spread  to  the  Viennois,  Provincia  came 
to  be  applied  only  to  the  country  lying  between  the  Rhone, 
the  Durance,  and  the  Alps  which  was  still  held  by  the 
Romans.     But   they  could   not  withstand   for  long   the 
advancing  tide  of  barbarian  power.     Although  the  Visi- 
gothic  king  Theodoric  I.  was  defeated  by  Aetius  before 
Aries  in  425  a.d.,  and  their  united  armies  in  turn  defeated 
Attila  in  451,  yet   Theodoric  II.   imposed  the  emperor 
Avitus  on  tho  Romans,  and  Euric  by  the  capture  of  Aries 
(480)  made   the  Visigoths   masters  of  Provence.     Their 
defeat  at  the   battle   of   Bougie   in  507  by   f;iovis  and 
Gundibald,  king  of,  the  Burgundians,  placed  Provence  at 
the  rnorcy  of  the  latter,  who  ceded  it  in  511  to  Theodoric, 
king  of  the  Ostrogoths,  as  guardian  of  the  Visigothic  king. 
The  powers  so  (gained  were,  however,  resigned  by  his  suc- 
cessor Witiges  in  536  to  Theodebert,  king  of  the  Franks, 
who  had  previously  overthrown  the  Burgundian  kingdom. 
On  the  death  of  Clotaire  I.  (561)  Provence  was  divided 
between  his  sons  Sigebert,  king  of  Austrasia,  and  Gontran, 
king  of  Burgundy,  Marseilles  falling  to  the  former  and 
Aries  to  the  latter.     When  Gontran  died  in  59  >  the  pro- 
vince was  united  under  his  nephew  Childebert,  oaly  to  be 
divided  again  by  his  sons  and  reunited  under  Clotaire  II. 
(613),  until  the  sons  of  Dagobert,  Sigebert  II.  and  Clovis 
II.  (633)  parted  it  between  them.     In  719  the  Saracens 
crossed   the   PjTcnees   and   made   themselves  masters  of 
almost  all  Septimania,  or  Languedoc,  and  in   739  they 
joined  with  Maurontis,  a  Byzantine  governor  of  Marseilles, 
in  his  attempt  to  drive  out  the  Franks.     Fortunately  for 
Europe  their  forces  were  completely  defeated  by  Charles 
Martel,    who   again    united    Provence   to   the    Prankish 
kingdom.     On  the  division  of  the  Carlovingian  empire  in 
843  Provence  fell  to  Lothair,  who  left  it  with  tho  title 
of  king  to  his  son  Charles  (855),  at  whose  death  without 
issue  in  863  it  was  seized  by  Charles  the  Bald.     In  879 
his  brother-in-law  Boson,  a  son-in-law  of  the  emperor  Louis 
II.,  and  governor  of  Vicnne,  was  elected  king  by  tho  synod 
of  Mantale,  when  his  united  provinces  became  known  as 
Cisjuran  Burgundy.     His  son,  Louis  tho  Blind,  obtained 
the  crown  of  Italy  (900),  but  was  deposed  by  Hugo,  who, 
in  his  turn  obtaining  the  Italian  kingdom,  ceded  Provence 
in  032 .  to  Rudolph  II.,  king  of  Transjuran  Burgundy. 
TJie  two  Burgundies  thus  united  received  tho  name  of  the 
KTingdom  of  Aries,  which  lasted  in  a  phantom  form  until 


1032,  but  Provence  was  always  governed  by  pnnces  whose 
powers  gradually  increased,  until  the  county  was  changed 
from  a  beneficiary  to  an  hereditary  fief.     The  line  of  bene- 
ficiary counts  begins  with  Boson  I.  (926),  who  was  rein- 
vested  by  Rudolph  II.  in  934.     He -was  succeeded   by 
Boson  II.  (948),  whose  son  William  I.  (968)  signalized  his 
reign  by  driving  out  from  the  stronghold  of  Fraxinet  the 
Moorish  pirates  who  had  seized  it  in  889,  and  thence 
ravaged  the  neighbouring  country.     His  brother  Rothbold, 
who  held  the  fief  until  1008,  was  followed  by  his  nephew 
William  II.,  and,  as  the  union  of  the  kingdom  of  Aries 
with  the  German  empire  was  by  this  time  almost  nominal, 
the  counts  of  Provence  claimed  independence,  and  William's 
sons,  Geoffrey-Bertrand  I.  and  William  III.,  divided  the 
county  in  1018  as  an  allodial  fief.     William  III.  died  in 
1053  and  Geoffrey-Bertrand  handed  over  to  his  nephews 
the  northern  part,  or  the  county  of  Forcalquier,  he  himself 
retaining  the  main  province  to  which  his  son  »Bertrand  II. 
succeeded  in  1063.     At  his  death  without  issue  in  1093 
the  county  was  ruled  by  his  mother  fitiennette,  who  was 
followed  (1100)  by  her  daughter  Gerberge,  wife  of  Gilbert, 
viscount    of    Milhaud   and   G^vaudan.     Their   daughter 
Douce   was    married    to    Rayniond-Berenger,    count    of 
Barcelona,  of  the  house  of  Aragon,  and  Provence  passed 
to  him  in  1112.     But  his  succession  was  not  undisputed. 
Raymond  de  S.  Gilles,  count  of  Toulouse  and  Venaissin,  a 
great-grandson  of  Rothbold,  had  about  1085  laid  claim  to 
the  county  of  Forcalquier,  and  his  pretensions  were  pro- 
bably partly  admitted.     The  excitement  of  the  crusades 
put  a  stop  to  further  action,  and  in  1096,  accompanied  by 
Count  Gilbert,  he   led   the  Provencal   contingent,  which 
was,    however,    more    distinguished    for    foraging    than 
fighting.     On  his  death  in  1105  his  claims  were  revived 
by  his  son  Alfonso  Jourdain,  who  succeeded  in  obtaining 
from  Raymond-B^renger  an  extension '  of   the  county  of 
Venaissin.     Raymond-Bdrenger  I.  died  in  1130,  and  was 
succeeded   by  his   son  B(5renger-Raymond,  whoso   rights 
were   disputed   by  Raymond  de   Baux,    husband   of   his 
mother's  sister  Etiennette.     In  the  war  which  ensued  the 
count  was   Idlled  before  Jlelgueil,  leaving  a  young  son, 
Raymond-B&enger   II.    (1144),  to   the   guardianship   of 
his  uncle,  Raymond-Bdrongcr  of  Aragon.     The  claims  of 
Raymond  de  Baux  were   renewed  by  his  son  Hugo,  on 
whoso  defeat  in  1162  the  emperor  Frederick  I.  gave  his 
niece   Richilda   in   marriage   to   the   young    count,    and 
invested  him  with  the  fiefs  of  Provence  and  Forcalquier. 
His  only  daughter  Douce  had  been  betrothed  to  the  count 
of  Toulouse,  who  accordingly  on  the  death  of  Raymond- 
Beronger  II.  (1166)  claimed  the  county,  but  was  defeated 
by  Aljjhonso    I.    of   Aragon,   who    invested    his    brother 
Raymond-Berenger  III.,    on   whoso   death   in    1181    the 
fief  reverted  to  Alphon.so  I.  to  pass  to  his  son  Alphonso  II. 
(1196).     This  prince  died  in  1209,  and  was  succeeded  by 
his  son  Raymond-Bdrcnger  IV.,  who,  seeing  that  the  great 
cities  were  nests  of  intrigue  for  rivals  to  the  throne,  set 
himself    to    destroy    their    independence.     Through    ail 
changes  of  rulers  the  cities  had  kept  their  internal  freedom 
and   old   Roman   self-government.     Tho   election   of  the 
governing  body  had  always  remained  in  tho  hands  of  the 
citizens,  but  tho  office  of  chief  magistrate,  after  ceasing  to 
be  filled  by  a  nominee  of  tho  Byzantine  emperor,  had  be- 
come vested  either  in  certain  families  or  in  tho  bishops. 
In  the  12th  century  measures  of  reform  were  imitated  from 
tho  Italian  republics,  tho  chief  characteristic  of  which  was 
tho  election  for  life  of  a  stranger  as  chief  magistrate  or 
podesti'l.     Tho  power  of  tho  podcstJis  was  too  great  to  be 
broken   at  once,  and,  though  tho  Albigenses  in  Avignon 
capitulated   in    1226,   and    Nice,    Gra.-^se,    Toulon,    and 
^larscilles    afterwards    submitted   to   Raymond-BOrenger 
IV.,  it  was  left  to  his  son-in-law,  Cuarles  of  A.njou  (see 


878 


PKOVENCE 


vol.  V.  pp.  422-23),  to  replace  the  podestis  by  governors 
of  his  own  nomination  (1246).  Charles  died  in  1285,  leav- 
ing the  states  of  Anjou,  Provence,  and  Naples  to  his  son 
Charles  II.,  under  whose  rule  peace  and  prosperity  to  some 
extent  revived.  But  the  efforts  of  his  son  Kobert  (1309) 
in  the  cause  of  the  Guelphs  called  for  increased  taxation, 
and  he  left  a  troubled  heritage  to  his  granddaughter  Joan 
of  Naples  (1343).  To  avenge  the  murder  of  his  brother 
Andrew,  the  husband  of  Joan,  at  whose  instigation  the 
crime  had  been  committed,  Louis  of  Hungary  marched  into 
Italy  (1^347),  and  made  himself  master  of  the  kingdom  of 
Naples.  Joan  fled  to  Provence,  and  by  timely  conces- 
sions to  her  people  secured  their  favour  in  her  efforts  to 
regain  the  Neapolitan  crown.  But  money  was  needed ; 
so  Avignon,  where  the  popes  had  resided  since  1305, 
was  sold  to  Pope  Clement  VI.,  and  Joan  won  back  Naples. 
An  important  part  in  the  afiair  was  played  by  the  Pro- 
vengal  estates,  which  consisted  of  the  three  houses  of 
clergy,  nobility,  and  commons,  and  were  supreme  in  all 
financial  matters,  however  absolute  the  counts  might  be 
in  other  branches  of  government.  This  power  of  the 
purse  was  jealously  guarded,  and  the  subsidies  granted  to 
the  prince  were  never  considered  as  other  than  dons 
ffratuiis,  the  name  by  which  they  were  called  even  after 
the  union  with  France,  when  they  became  an  annual  tri- 
bute. Owing  to  the  right  of  repartition  to  definite  objects 
of  the  sums  raised  by  taxation,  the  Provenqaux.  were  not 
on  the  whole  badly  governed,  for,  though  the  estates  had 
only  the  right  of  petition  for  legislation,  yet  when  the 
need  arose  they  could  very  effectually  speak  with  the  voice 
of  the  whole  people.  The  representation  of  the  bulk  of 
the  nation  in  the  tiers-etat  was  particularly  good,  for  the 
deputies,  who  were  paid,  were  returned  not  only  by  the 
twenty-five  country  electorates,  or  vigiieries,  but  from 
thirty-seven  communes  as  well.  The  Enghsh  constitution 
may  therefore  be  indebted  to  Provence  for  the  important 
step  which  was  taken  by  the  younger  Simon  de  Montfort 
in  first  summoning  the  representatives  of  cities  and 
boroughs  to  the  parliament  of  1265.  The  earliest  re- 
corded session  of  the  estates  was  in  1146,  and  the  meet- 
ings continued  at  intervals  until  1639,  when  they  ceased 
until  1787.  The  sessions  not  being  annual,  the  powers  of 
the  estates  in  ordinary  matters  were  delegated  to  a  general 
assembly,  composed  of  the  archbishop  of  Aix,  the  pro- 
cureurs  joints,  who  were  representatives  of  each  of  the 
estates  of  the  clergy  and  the  nobility,  and  the  whole  of 
the  tiers-etat.  This  assembly  gradually  superseded  the 
estates  until  in  1639  it  replaced  them  altogether.  To  meet 
sadden  emergencies  there  was  a  "  great  council,"  which 
consisted  of  the  archbishop  and  three  consuls  of  Aix  as 
procureurs  du  pays,  and  the  procureurs  joints  of  the 
three  estates,  under  the  presidency  of  the  grand  seneschal. 
This  officer  was  the  representative  of  the  counts  in  judicial 
affairs,  and  during  their  absence  from  the  country  in 
military  matters  also.  His  powers  were  not  only  adminis- 
trative, but  to  a  great  extent  legislative,  and  they  were 
therefore  fated  either  to  increase  at  the  expense  of  the 
sovereign  or  to  be  cut  down  by  a  firm  ruler.  Joan  chose 
the  latter  course,  and  deprived  the  grand  seneschal  of  his 
powers  over  the  state  domains,  and  his  right  to  remove 
judges  and  pardon  capital  crimes.  And  she  not  only 
reduced  his  power  but  appointed  an  Italian  to  the  office, 
upon  which  the  nation  rose  in  revolt,  and  Louis  of  Anjou, 
seizing  the  opportunity  to  press  his  claims  to  the  throne, 
led  an  army  into  Provence  in  1368.  The  pretensions  of 
Louis  were  met  by  Joan's-  offer  to  adopt  him  as  her  heir, 
and  on  "her  death  in  1382  he  succeeded  to  the  county. 
The  reign  of  Louis  I.  was  passed  in  the  unsuccessful  pur- 
suit of  his  claims  to  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  and  his  son 
Louis  II.  (1384)  and   grandson   Louis   IIL  Q417)  con- 


tinued the  same  unprofitable  contest.  Rene  (1434),  a 
brother  of  Louis  III.,  was  not  less  inclined  to  give  up  his 
rights,  which  had  revived  in  force  from  his  adoption  by 
Joan  II.  of  Naples,  but,  though  fortune  at  first  smiled  on 
him,  he  was  at  last  forced  to  resign  his  claim  in  favour  of 
the  house  of  Aragon.  The  count,  or  titular  king,  .was  an 
accomplished  musician  and  a  lover  of  literature  and  the 
arts ;  and,  the  latter  part  of  his  reign  being  on  the  whole 
peaceful,  he  was  able  to  give  free  play  to  his  inclinations. 
The  artistic  fame  of  his  court  has  lasted  to  the  present 
day,  but  it  was  the  interest  which  he  took  in  his  subjects' 
material  welfare,  and  his  administration  of  wise  laws, 
which  catised  his  people,  to  lament  the  death  of  Bene  the 
Grood.  He  died  in  1480,  and,  leaving  only  a  daughter 
Margaret,  the  iU-fated  wife  of  Henry  VI.  of  England, 
bequeathed  the  county  to  his  nephew  Charles  of  Maine. 
Charles  IIL  died  in  the  following  year,  making  Louis  XL 
of  France  his  heir,  and  in  1486  Charles  VIII.  by  letters 
patent  reunited  the  county  to  the  kingdom  of  France. 

The  union  was  confirmed  by  the  estates  with  the  full 
approval  of  the  people ;  but  the  emperor  was  not  inclined 
to  relinquish  without  a  struggle  his  claims  to  overlordship, 
and  he  found  a  willing  tool  in  the  constable,  Charles  of 
Bourbon,  who  entered  Provence  at  the  head  of  the  im- 
perialist army  in  1524.  His  adventure  met  with  failure, 
and  the  invasion  by  the  emperor  Charles  V.  himself  in 
1536  was  equally  unsuccessful.  In  1501  Louis  XIII., 
vrith  the  view  of  strengthening  his  own  authority,  replaced 
the  "  conseil  eminent,"  which  in  the  time  of  the  counts  had 
been  the  highest  court  of  justice,  by  a-"  parlement,"  consist- 
ing at  first  of  the  grand  seneschal,  a  president,  and  eleven 
nominated  councillors.  The  functions  of  the  court  were 
strictly  judicial,  but  before  its  aboKtion  in  1790  it  had 
often  assumed  legislative  rights,  and  consequently  played 
a  conspicuous  part  in  the  civil  wars  of  the  ISth  and  17th 
centuries.  The  principles  of  the  Keformation  made  »vhat 
little  progress  they  did  in  Provence  from  external  rather 
than  internal  causes,  and  the  people  themselves  never  took 
kindly  to  doctrines-  which  in  many  ways  assumed  an 
extremely  bizarre  and  heretical  form.  The  13th  century 
had  witnessed  Simon  de  Montfort's  crusade  against  the 
Albigenses  of  Languedoc,  and  the  ruin  which  heresy  had 
brought  on  that  province  cannot  have  given  the  prosper- 
ous Provengaux  any  great  love  for  new  doctrines.  The 
Waldenses  of  the  16th  century  were  therefore  chiefly  con- 
fined to  he  mountainous  districts,  but  the  persecutions 
ordered  I  •  the  parlement  brought  the  horrors  of  civil  war 
on  the  w  ole  country.  The  extreme  Catholics  formed  the 
Holy  League  against  the  Protestants,  and  the  two  parties 
were  equally  at  enmity  nath  Henry  UI.,  who  tried  to 
please  both  without  satisfying  either.  In  time  the  royal- 
ists and  Protestants  united  under  the  name  of  Bigarrats, 
but  it  was  not  until  Henry  IV.  had  come  to  the  throne, 
and  Marseilles,  the  last  stronghold  of  the  League,  had 
submitted,  that  the  worn-out  country  was  again  at  peace. 
Richelieu  tried  to  increase  the  taxation  of  the  people  with- 
out their  consent,  but  the  disorders  of  the  Cascaveous 
were  the  result,  and  a  similar  attempt  by  Mazarin  in  1647 
led  to  disturbances  in  connexion  with  the  Fronde  which 
lasted  until  1652.  In  1 707,  during  the  War  of  the  Spanish 
Succession,  the  army  of  the  allies  under  Prince  Eugene 
invaded  the  province,  and  the  horrors  of  war  were  followed 
by  those  of  the  plague  of  1720,  when  100,000  persons 
perished,  Marseilles  alone  losing  50,000  out  of  a  popula- 
tion of  90,000.  The  dispute  between  the  Jesuits  and 
Jansenists  waxed  warm  about  1726,  but  the  victory  of  vhe 
former  only  preceded  their  suppression  by  Pope  Clement 
XIV.  in  1773  in  return  for  the  cession  of  Avignon  and 
the  county  of  Venaissin,  which  had  tvrice  changed  hands 
since  their  reunion  with  Provencn  in  1 663.     On  the  re-. 


PRO  —  P  R  O 


879 


convocation  of  the  estates  in  17S7  the  two  upper  houses 
refused  to  bear  their  share  of  taxation,  and  in  1789,  in 
the  states-general  of  the  kingdom,  Jlirabeau  with  his  col- 
leagues renounced  the  freedom  and  independence .  of  the 
province.  The  division  of  Provence  into  departments  in 
1790  finally  obliterated  all  traces  of  the  ancient  con- 
stitution, but  the  people  still  preservs  in  the  soft  tones 
of  their  lanyue  (Toe  an  und3dng  reminder  of  their  former 
independence.  (h.  b.  b.) 

PROVERBS,  Book  of.'  The  title  of  the  book  of  Pro- 
verbs is  "The  Proverbs  of  Solomon "  (no^C  '^CD,  mis/ile 
shelomoh,  or  more  shortly  mishit,  for  which  Origen  gives 
the  feminine  form  misloth,  Eusob.,  H.  £.,  vi.  25).  The 
title  in  the  LXX.  is  a  literal  rendering  of  the  Hebrew, 
IIapo(/xu»  ^a\(j)nu>vTo<;.  In  early  times  the  book  was 
frequently  referred  to  both  among  Jews  and  Christians 
under  the  name  of  "  Wisdom  "  or  "  The  Wisdom  that  com- 
prises all  Virtues "  (17  TrampeTos  cro<j>!a,  Clem.  Rom,  ch. 
57).  This  name,  however,  was  employed  somewhat  indis- 
criminately, for  not  only  Proverbs  but  also  Ecclesiastes 
and  the  apocryphal  booli  Ecclesiasticus  and  Wisdom  were 
also  designated  by  it,  and  sometimes  apparently  the  whole 
third  division  of  the  canon  (Lightfoot,  Bpp.  of  S.  Clement, 
p.  164  sq.). 

The  book  of  Proverbs  as  it  now  lies  before  us  consists  of 
a  number  of  distinct  parts. 

1.  We  have,  chap.  i.  1-7  (or  i.  1-6  ^  some  think), 
a  general  heading  and  preface,  gi^•ing  the  title  of  the 
book  and  the  purposes  to  be  served  by  its  contents  : — 
"The  Proverbs  of  Solomon,  the  son  of  David,  king 
of  Israel.  To  know  wisdonv  and  instruction  .  .  .  to  give 
subtlety  to  the  simple,  to  the  young  man  knowledge  and 
discretion  .  .  .  to  understand  a  proverb  and  a  figure,  the 
words  of  the  wise  and  their  dark  sayings."  This  is 
followed  by  the  fundamental  maxim  of  the  Wisdom,  "  The 
fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of.  wisdom."  The 
question  to  what  parts  of  the  book  this  preface  extends  is 
not  easy  to  settle. 

2.  This  general  preface  is  followed  by  a  lengthy  pas- 
sage, L  8-ix.  18,  which  consists,  not  of  detached  proverbs, 
though  a  number  of  such  proverbs  are  scattered  through  it, 
but  of  connected  discourses  in  praise  of  wisdom  and  the 
benefits  which  she  confers  on  those  who  embrace  her.  The 
speaker  is  one  of  the  wise,  or  a  type  of  them,  who  ad- 
dresses his. youthful  pupil  or  friend  as  "my  son,"  though 
at  several  points  wisdom  herself  is  introduced  speaking, 
displaying  her  graces,  offering  herself  to  men,  narrating 
her  history,  and  magnifying  th«  delights  which  they  who 
follow  her  enjoy,  as  well  as  painting  in  dark  colours  the 
evils  from  which  she  preserves  them.  Attempts  have  been 
made  to  divide  the  passage  into  distinct  sections,  but 
without  much  success.  Ewald  counts  three  general 
divisions,  Bertheau  seven,  Hooykaas  eleven,  and  Delitzsch 
fifteen.  The  passage  is  in  the  main  homogeneous,  though 
containing  at  more  places  than  one  elements  which  at  first 
sight  might  appear  foreign  (e.(/.,  vi.  1  sq.),  and  on  the 
■whole  at  least  is  the  composition  of  a  single  author. 
Several  of  its  characteristics,  such  as  the  style,  and  par- 
ticularly the  personification  of  wisdom  in  chap.  viii.  and  else- 
where, one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  beautiful  things  in 
Hebrew  literature,  indicate  that  the  passage  belongs  to  an 
advanced  stage  of  the  Hebrew  \visdom. 

3.  Then  follo^v8  the  largest  section  in  the  book,  x.  1- 
xxii.  16,  with  a  new  heading,  "The  Proverbs  of  Solomon." 
This  division  consists  of  a  number  of  verses — three  hundred 
and  seventy-four,  it  is  said — each  of  which  contains  a  single 
proverb  or  maxim  in  two  lines,  the  only  exception  being 
xii.  7,  which  has  three  lines,  but  this  is  probably  due  to 
one  member  of  a  second  verse  having  fallen  out.  The  kind 
of  poetical  parallelism  most  common  in  these  verses  is  the 


antithetig,  of  the  type  "A  vnsa  son  makcth  a  glad  father, 
but  a  foolish  son  is  the  heaviness  of  his  mother"  (x.  1). 
This  type  of  jjarallelism  i)revails  almost  exclusively  in  x.-xv., 
after  which  other  types  are  more  commonly  introduced. 
The  proverbs  in  this  collection  are  of  a  very  miscellaneous 
character,  and  are  throvTi  together  without  any  classifica- 
tion or  regard  to  subject,  though  occasionally  a  few  verses 
are  found  to  follow  one  another  having  reference  to  a 
common  topic. 

4.  After  this  comes  a  small  collection  consisting  of  two 
parts  which  have  been  put  together,  xxii.  17-xxiv.  22  and 
xxiv,  23-3-4.  The  author  of  the  first  collection  informs  his 
son  or  disciple  that  what  he  addresses,  to  him  is  "  words  of 
the  wise  "  (xxii.  17) ;  and  the  second  small  code  is  inscribed 
"These  also  are  by  the  wise"  (xxiv.  23).  The  proverbs 
in  this  collection  sometimes  make  one  verse,  sometimes 
two  or  three,  and  even  occasionally  run  out  to  a  short 
proverbial  discourse. 

5.  Then  foUows  an  important  collection,  xxv.-xxix.,  with 
the  inscription,  "These  also  are  proverbs  of  Solomon, 
which  the  men  of  Hezekiah,  king  of  Judah,  copied  out " 
(xxv.  1 ).  The  expression  "  copied  out"  (LXX.  i^cypdxpavro), 
lit.  "  transferred  "  or  removed  from  one  place  to  another, 
implies  that  the  men  of  Hezekiah  made  use  of  written 
sources  in  forming  their  collection.  The  notice  is  of  great 
historical  interest.  Hezekiah,  besides  being  a  wise  and 
reforming  king,  had  probably  literary  tastes ;  he  has  the 
reputation  of  having  been  a  poet  himself  (Isa.  xxxviii.); 
and  his  "  men ''  were  no  doubt  scholars  and  scribes  about 
his  court,  who  shared  in  his  tastes  and  pursuits,  and  undci 
his  direction  used  their  opportunities  to  rescue  froiii 
oblivion  the  precious  remains  of  the  most  ancient  wisdom 
by  transferring  them  from  the  small  collections  in  which 
they  lay  hidden  into  a  single  and  authorized  code  (cf. 
2  Bangs  xviii.  37).  It  may  perhaps  be  considered  some 
corroboration  of  the  genuine  historical  character  of  the 
inscription  that  the  collection  begins  with  a  number  of 
proverbs  relating  to  kings.  The  maxims  in  this  code, 
particularly  in  xx\'.-xxvii.,  approach  much  nearer  tS  what 
we  should  imagine  the  early  popular  proverb  to  have  been 
than  many  of  those  in  the  other  large  collection ;  they  are 
simple,  usually  contain  a  comparison,  and  have  none  of 
the  abstractness  which,  characterizes  many  of  the  maxims 
in  x.-xxii.  This  may  be  regarded  as  u  guarantee  of  their 
great  antiquity. 

6.  Two  small  pieces  then  foUow,  evidently  related  to 
one  another,  xxx.  and  xxxi.  1-9, — the  former,  with  the 
inscription,  "The  words  of  Agur,  the  son  of  Jakeh,"  and 
the  other  with  the  heading,  "  The  words  of  King  Lemuel." 
The  inscriptions  to  these  two  pieces  are  very  obscure. 
In  the'  former  the  A,  V.  can  hardly  be  correct.  More 
probably  by  a  different  division  of  words  we  should  read 
— "  The  words  of  Agur  the  son  of  Jakeh  of  JIassa.  The 
man  said,  I  have  wearied  myself,  O  God,  I  have  wearied 
myself,  O  God,  and  am  consumed  ;  for  I  am  more  brutish 
than  any  man,"  ifec.  The  words  are  those  of  one  who 
has  striven  to  comprehend  God  and  found  the  task  above 
him  (Ps.  Ixxiii.  22).  Possibly  the  above  rendering  re- 
quires a  slight  correction  in  the  text,  alrcody  made  in  the 
Veneto-Grcek  version,  which  renders  "Jakeh  the  Mas.saito" 
(Gen.  xxiv.  14?).  Similai-ly  the. heading  in  xxxi.  should 
probably  road — "The  words  of  Lemuel  king  of  JIassa, 
wherewith  his  mother  instructed  him."  It  is  uncortair 
whether  the  names  Agur  and  Lemuel  be  real  or  fictitious. 

7.  I'inally  the  book  is  closed  by  an  alphabetical  poem, 
xxxi.  10-31,  in  praise  of  the  virtuous  (that  is,  the  active 
capable)  woman. 

The  contents  of  these  several  sections  are  very  various 
and  not  easy  to  classify.  The  proverbialista  occuiiy  them- 
selves with  life  in  all  its  aspects.     Sometimes  they  simply 


880 


PROVERBS 


catch  tie  expression  of  men  gooKi  or  bad,  or  photograph 
their  actions  and  thoughts ;  more  generally  they  pass  a 
verdict  upon  them,  and  exhort  or  instruct  men  in  regard 
to  them.  The  proverbs  differ  from  the  shrewd  or  humorous 
sa3angs  which  are  so  called  in  profane  literature  ;  some  of 
them  have  a  certain  flavour  of  humour,  but  they  are 
mainly  maxims  touching  practical  life  on  its  religious  and 
moral  side.  Such  maxims  cannot  be  regarded  as  wholly 
or  even  in  a  very  large  degree  the  production  of  an 
individual  mind.  A  number  of  them  may  well  be  by 
Solomon,  and  a  greater  number  may  belong  to  his  age ; 
but,  though  the  stream  of  wisdom  began  to  flow  in  his 
day,  its  beginnings  were  then  comparatively  small ;  as  the 
centuries  advanced  ,it  gathered  volume.  In  the  book 
which  now  exists  we  find  gathered  together  the  most 
precious  fruits  of  the  wisdom  in  Israel  during  many 
hundred  years,  and  undoubtedly  the  later  centuries  were 
richer,  or  at  all  events  fuUer,  in  their  contributions  than 
the  earlier.  The  tradition,  however,  which  connects 
Solomon  with  the  direction  of  mind  known  as  the  wisdom 
cannot  reasonably  be  set  aside.  The  renown  for  wisdom 
which  this  king  enjoyed  among  his  own  people,  and  even, 
though  in  a  distorted  and  fantastic  form,  among  the  other 
peoples  of  the  East,  must  have  rested  on  some  real  founda- 
tion. No  doubt  reputations  grow,  and  veneration  mag- 
nifies its  hero  sometimes  in  proportion  to  the  indistinct- 
ness of  its  real  knowledge  of  him  ;  and  objects  seen  in  the 
broad  light  of  day  are  very  insignificant  compared  with 
the  bulk  which  they  assume  when  seen  between  us  and  the 
light  still  lingering  on  the  horizon  of  a  day  that  has  gone 
down.  But,  making  allowance  for  the  exaggerations  of 
later  times,  we  should  leave  history  and  tradition  altogether 
unexplained  if  we  disallowed  the  claim  of  Solomon  to  have 
exercised  a  creative  influence  upon  the  wisdom  in  Israel. 
At  the  same  time  it  is  probable  that  this  influence  did  not 
lie  in  the  application  of  new  methods,  much  less  in  the 
creation  of  a  new  direction  of  thought.  The  supposition 
that  Solomon  was  the  inventor  of  the  proverbial  distich  or 
mashal,  particularly  of  the  antithetical'  distich,  or  that  he 
was  the  first  to  use  this  in  his  sententious  sayings  on  men 
and  life,  and  thus  the  father  of  didactic  poetry  among  the 
Hebrews,  is  a  mere  conjecture.  The  distich  was  employed 
long  before  his  day,  and  sententious  maxims  regarding  life 
and  men  long  preceded  him.  Moreover  the  conjecture  is 
based  on  the  very  false  assumption  that  the  essence  of  the 
wisdom  lay  in  the  form  of  expression  rather  than  in  the 
matter,  and  that  the  curt,  sharp,  antithetical  distich  was 
its  proper  characteristic  and  belonged  to  it  from  the 
beginning.  This  assumption,  made  by  Ewald,  has  been  so 
usually  accepted  by  writers  after  him  that .  the  polished 
pointed  antithesis  has  been  elevated  into  a  criterion  of  the 
higher  antiquity  of  those  proverbs  which  possess  it.  Pro- 
bably the  opposite  conclusion  would  be  nearer  the  truth. 
The  form  of  these  antithetical  proverbs  betrays  art,  long 
use  of  the  literary  methods  of  the  wise,  and  an  approach 
to  technicality — things  not  to  be  expected  in  an  early  age. 
The  early  mashal  was  probably  simple,  containing  a  figure 
or  comparison,  as  the  name  implies ;  some  truth  of  the  Ufe 
of  mankind  thrown  into  an  image  from  nature,  without 
anything  artificial  or  technical.  Proverbs  like  "  iron  sharp- 
eneth  iron," or  such  fine  similes  as  these — "a  trampled 
fountain  and  ajfouled  spring  is  the  rightefms  man  who  hath 
given  way  before  the  wicked,"  "a  city  that  is  broken  down 
and  hath  no  wall  is  the  mar^  whose  spijit  is  without  con- 
trol" (xxv.  26,  28) — are  the  kind  of  proverbs  which  we 
should  look  for  in  this  earliest  time,  flolomon  has  a  place 
of  renown  in  the  wisdom,  not  because  he  imposed  any 
mannerism  upon  it,  but  because  he  firew  a  vigorous  mind 
into  it.  .He  probably  formed  no  class  :  the  word  "  wise" 
did  not,  from  being  an  adjective  .become  a  noun  in  his 


aays.  The  nature  of  his  wisdom  is  best  illustrated  by  the 
story  of  the  two  women  with  the  living  and  the  dead  child 
(1  Kings  iii.  16-28).  He  possessed  a  keen  insight  into  the 
operations  of  human  nature ;  he  knew  the  world  and  men 
and  life.  Most  likely  also  he  possessed  the  power  of  giving 
pointed  expression  to  his  shrewd  and  ready  judgments; 
and,  as  it  is  said  that  he  spoke  of  beasts  and  fishes  and 
trees,  he  probably  had  an  eye  for  the  analogies  between 
humiin  life  and  the  external  world.  From  his  character 
we  should  judge  that  his  three  thousand  proverbs  were  not 
all  religious ;  neither  were  his  thousand  and  one  songs  all 
hymas,  or  some  of  them  would  have  been  preserved  to  us 
besides  the  two  more  than  doubtful  poems  in  the  Psaltei 
(Ps.  Ixxii.,  cxxvii.).  The  theme  of  the  wisdom  was  life, 
and  its  aims  were  practical ;  and,  if  the  rise  of  the  wisdom 
be  connected  with  the  age  of  Solomon,  that  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  ufe  in  the  civil  sense  began  in  this  age,  and  its 
principles  could  be  discovered.  Then  the  tribes  were  con- 
solidated into  one  community,  the  state  rose  into  existence, 
the  channels  of  commerce  were  opened,  men  entered  into 
various  and  complicated  relations  with  one  another,  and 
the  principles  which  rule  such  relations  revealed  themselves 
to  the  eye  that  was  open  to  observe  them 

It  is  not  quite  easy  to  form  definite  conceptions  of  those 
called  the  wise  in  Israel.  They  were  certainly  no  heredi- 
tary caste  like  the  priests ;  neither  had  they  any  distinct 
call  to  a  vocation  like  the  prophets,  although  in  later 
times  at  least  they  were  so  well  recognized  that  they  could 
be  ranked  with  these  two  classes  as  influential  in  forming 
men's  opinions  and  guiding  their  actions  (Jer.  xviii.  18). 
They  were  probably  men  who  might  be  named  elders,  not 
always  because  of  their  age,  but  because  of  their  superior 
sagacity ;  men  who,  having  at  heart  the  welfare  of  the 
state  and  particularly  the  moral  soundness  of  the  citizens, 
sought  to  gain  the  ear  of  the  young  and  inculcate  upon 
them  the  principles  of  right  conduct.  While  the  priests 
were  the  clergy  and  lawyers  in  Israel,  and  the  prophets 
the  statesmen,  the  wise  were  the  moralists  and  educa- 
tionists, whose  operations  touched  the  individual  in  all  his 
relations  and  duties.  Their  methods  were  probably  simple 
to  begin  with,  and  natural,  without  anything  strictly 
characteristic;  they  were  moral  "reprovers,"  or  ordinary 
"  counsellors,"  and  possibly  at  first  their  ethical  maxims 
were  general,  touching  life  as  a  whole.  By  and  by  they 
surveyed  life  with  a  keener  scrutiny  and  subjected  it  to  a 
sharper  analysis,  bringing  their  moral  principles  to  bear  on 
its  shades  and  sides  and  aspects,  and  applying  these 
principles  with  greater  inwardness  so  as  to  strike  not 
merely  at  external  conduct  but  at  the  disposition  of  the 
mind.  And,  finally,  under  the  influence  of  the  universaliatic 
ideas  of  God  and  providence  suggested  to  the  minds  of 
men  in  Israel  by  contact  with  the  great  empires  of  the 
world  and  observation  of  their  destinies,  when  the  Jewish 
state  became  involved  in  political  movements  as  wide  as 
the  known  world,  the  wise  were  enabled  to  gather  together 
the  manifold  fragments  into  which  they  had  analysed  the 
moral  life  of  man  and  the  operation  of  the  providence  of 
God,  and  to  perceive  that  they  were  all  but  elements  in 
one  great  divine  system  embracing  all  things,  both  the 
world  of  nature  and  the  destinies  of  men.  To  this  great 
scheme,  which  was  but  God  fulfilling  himself  in  many 
ways,  they  gave  the  name  of  wisdom  in  the  abstract ;  it 
was  the  counterpart  of  the  divine  mind,  God's  fellow  and 
architect  in  framing  the  world.  This  was  the  divine 
wisdom ;  human  wisdom  consisted  both  in  intellectual 
comprehension  of  it  and  in  moral  harmony  with  it,  and 
the  first-  could  be  reached  only  through  the  second :  the 
fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom.  Illustrationa 
of  the  wisdom  in  its  earliest  form  may  be  seen  in  tha 
collection  xxv.-xxix.,  and  in  many  proverbs  in  x.-xai. 


jeKOVEKBS 


881 


(many  examples  of  the  period  of  most  subtle  analysis  in  tlio 
last-named  collection),  wliile  the  period  of  synthesis  and 
■what  comes  near  to  be  a  science  of  wisdom  is  represented 
in  the  passage  i.-ix.  Naturally  along  with  this  advance 
in  thought  there  appeared  a  corresponding  advance  in 
the  forms  of  expression  in  which  the  wisdom  clothed 
ftself :  the  wise  acquired  a  method ;  a  particular  spirit 
began  to  animate  their  circles ;  their  phraseology  showed 
the  impress  of  a  particular  mint,  -and  ultimately  assumed 
a  form  almost  technical. 

Perhaps  some  of  the  things  which  failed  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  wise  are  more  suggestive  than  those 
things  with  which  they  occupied  themse'  /es.  Though 
sacrifice,  for  example,  be  once  or  twice  alluded  to,  no 
importance  is  attached  to  the  ritual  system;  the  priest 
is  not  once  mentioned,  and  the  external  exercises  of 
worship  appear  to  have  little  significance.  But,  what  is 
more  remarkable,  the  wise  man  differs  as  much  from  the 
prophet  as  he  does  from  the  lawgiver.  All  those  ideas 
around  which  prophecy  revolves,  such  as  the  idea  of  the 
kingdom  of  God,  of  a  chosen  people,  of  a  Messiah  or 
future  king  of  the  house  of  David,  and  the  like,  are 
entirely  absent.  The  distinction  between  "  Israel "  and 
Ihe  "  nations  "  has  no  place.  The  darling  phraseology  of 
the  prophets — "Israel,"  "Jacob,"  "Zion,"  "  my  people," 
"  the  latter  day  " — and  the  whole  terminology  of  particu- 
larism characleristic  of  prophecy  and  many  even  of  the 
Psalms  nowhere  occurs.  The  conflict  between' the  worship 
of  Jehovah  and  that  of  false  gods,  with  which  the  pages  of 
prophetic  writers  are  filled,  does  not  receive  even  a-  pass- 
ing reference.  Conclusions  have  been  drawn  from  these 
peculiarities  which,  though  not  unnatural,  are  scarcely 
warranted.  It  has  been  inferred  that  the  wise  were  men 
whose  way  of  thinking  placed  'them  outside  of  their  dis- 
pensation and  in  antagonism  to  the  circle  of  beliefs 
cherished  in  Israel  and  represented  by  the  prophets  and 
other  public  teachers — in  short,  that  they  took  up  a 
humanistic  or  naturalistic  position.  A  position  to  which 
the  name  naturalistic  could  be  given  is  inconceivable  in 
Israel.  There  were  no  doubt  men  called  wise  who  pursued 
false  directions  (Jer.  xviii.  18),  as  there  were  false  prophets; 
but  there  is  nothing  in  the  Proverbs  to  indicate  any 
antagonism  between  their  authors  and  either  priest  or  pro- 
phet. On  the  contrary  the  passage  iii.  9 — a  solitary  one 
no  doubt — "  Honour  the  Lord  with  thy  substance,  and 
with  the  first  fruits  of  all  thine  increase,"  shows  their 
friendliness  to  the  ritual.  If  they  say  on  the  other  hand 
that  the  sacrifice  of  the  wicked  is  an  abomination  to  the 
Lord  (xv.  8),  and  that  by  mercy  and  truth  iniquity  is 
atoned  for  (xvi.  6),  this  is  nothing  but  what  the  prophets 
proclaim  in  a  body,  and  means  merely  that  obedience  is 
better  than  sacrifice  and  the  moral  higher  than  the  ritual. 
And  even  Sirach,  a  fervent  supporter  of  priesthood  and 
sacrifice  (Ecclus.  vii.  29  srj.),  enunciates  the  same  doctrine: 
"He  that  keepeth  the  law  multiplieth  offerings ;  ho  that 
taketh  heed  to  the  commandments  sacrificoth  a  peace- 
oSering.  To  depart  from  wickedness  is  a  thing  pleasing 
to  the  Lord,  and  to  depart  from  unrighteousness  is  a  pro- 
pitiation "  (Ecclus.  XXXV.  1  sq.).  And  that  the  wise  men 
feel  themselves  within  the  circle  of  the  revealed  religion  is 
evident  from  their  use  of  the  name  Jehovah,  their  frequent 
references  to  the  "  law,"  that  is,  ioi-ah  or  revelation,  the 
"commandment,"  the  "word,"  and  the  like;  and  such  a 
sentence  as  this,  "  Where  there  is  no  vision  (prophetic 
revelation,  1  Sam.  iii.  1)  the  people  cast  off  restraint" 
(xxix.  18),  shows  no  unfriendliness  to  the  prophets.  The 
wise  men  had  no  quarrel  with  the  institutions  of  Israel, 
nor  with  the  public  teachers  and  their  operations  ;  they 
occupied  themselves  more,  however,  with  the  life  of  the 
individual  than  the  community,  and  sought  to  distil  from 


the  particularistic  thought  in  Israel  principles  ■which,  both 
in  morals  and  religion,  should  be  universal  and  applicable 
wherever  men  lived. 

Still  this  very  universalism  is  a  remarkable  thing,  and 
a  different  attempt  has  been  made  to  explain  it.  It  has 
been  suggested  that  the  ■n'isdom,  though  some  beginnings 
of  it  may  have  appeared  during  the  prophetic  period  and 
while  the  autonomy  of  Israel  as  a  state  continued,  must 
bo  in  the  main  elements  of  its  literature  a  thing  posterior 
to  the  downfall  of  the  state  and  the  cessation  of  prophecy. 
Only  in  this  way  it  is  thought  is  it  possible  to  explain  the 
complete  absence  of  all  those  ideas  regarding  Israel  as  a 
people,  its  relation  to  the  heathen,  and  its  future  destiny, 
which  fill  the  pages  of  the  earlier  literature.  That  inspira- 
tion and  exaltation  of  mind  which  marked  the  prophetic 
age  has  disappeared  and  reflexion  has  taken  its  place. 
Enthusiasm  for  the  state  has  died  out  because  the  state 
has  perished,  and  is  now  represented  by  care  for .  the 
individual.  Prophecy  has-  fulfilled  its  mission ;  it  has 
lodged  its  principles  in  men's  minds ;  it  has  seen  itself 
fulfilled  in  the  overthrow  of  the  kingdom,  but  the  hour  of 
its  triumph  has  been  the  hour  of  its  death;.  Now  follows 
the  t'^je  of  reflexion  upon  the  prophetic  truths,  when  the 
mind  has  accepted  principles  and  risen  through  prophetic 
teaching  to  universal  conceptions  of  God  and  the  ■world, 
and  an  effort  is  made  to  apply  them  to  the  individual  life. 
In  short  the  age  of  the  wisdom  is  the  period  of  the  return 
from  exile,  when  Israel  was  no  more  a  nation  but  a  conv 
munity  of  people,  when  it  had  no  king  of  its  own  but 
obeyed  a  foreigli  ruler,  and  ■when  prophecy  speedily  became 
dumb,  partly  because  its  mission  had  been  fulfilled  and 
l^artly  because  the  chief  condition  of  its  exercise,  the  exists 
ence  of  the  state,  was  awanting.  In  this  condition  of 
things  the  wise  arose  and  exercised  their  functions ;  they 
do  not  allude  to  prophetic  conceptions  because,  so  far  as 
these  concerned  the  people  in  its  nationality,  they  had  in 
the  meantime  lost  their  meaning,  and  so  far  as  they 
belonged  to  the  general  region  of  religious  and  ethical 
truth  they  had  been  accepted  at  least  by  the  better  minds 
among  the  people,  and  it  is  the  aim  of  the  wise  to  per- 
suade every  individual  in  the  community  to  receive  them 
and  live  by  them.  The  ■O'iso  indeed  are  the  successors  of 
the  prophets  ;  they  inculcate  the  .same  truths  as  they  did, 
but  the  s^abject  whose  ear  they  seek  to  gain  is  the 
individual  and  no  more  the  state. 

Such  a  theory,  should  it  come  to  be  accepted,  would  carry 
its  compensations  with  it.  It  would  fill  with  the  liveliest 
activity  a  period  in  the  life  of  Israel  where  a  silence  almost 
of  death  seems  at  present  to  reign.  The  centuries  after 
Malachi  are  a  great  blank  ;  if  wo  could  suppose  them  filled 
with  the  life  and  thought  reflected  in  the  charming 
literature  of  the  wisdom,  they  would  yield  in  interest  to  no 
period  of  the  nation's  history.  And  beyond  doubt  the 
wisdom  continued  to  flourish  in  tliis  age,  for  Ecclesiastes 
and  later  down  the  extra  canonical  wisdom  of  Sirach  are 
the  fruits  of  it.  If  we  consider  Ecclcsidstes,  however,  wo 
find  that  it  is  the  proper  successor  to  the  book  of  Job;  it 
reflects  the  natural  exhaustion  of  speculation  on  the  great 
mysteries  of  God  and  providence  ■which  could  not  but 
follow  the  stormy  conflict  exhibited  in  Job.  But  in  tho 
two  great  collections  of  Solomonic  proverbs  such  doubts 
regarding  providence  do  not  at  all  appear,  and  even  in  the 
other  collections  (except  chap,  xxx.)  they  are  touched  on 
lightly.  The  Proverbs  appear  to  signalize  the  stage  of 
Hebrew  thought  anterior  to  the  book  of  Job.  It  may  bo 
said  that  Sirach  does  not  debate  such  questions.  This  is 
true,  but  the  reason  is  that  ho  consciously  declines  to 
entertain  them,  "  Seek  not  things  that  are  too  hard  for 
thee";  "None  shall  say,  what  b  thisi  wherefore  is  thati" 
(Ecclus.  iii.  21,  xxxix.  IG),  while  to  the  proverbialistithey 

XIX.  —  m 


882 


PROVERBS 


do  not  occur.  Again,  it  is  doubtful  if  any  period  in  the 
history  o£  Israel  was  marked  by  an  absence  of  those 
national  aspirations  and  hopes  so  prominent  in  the  pro- 
phets ;  and  -if  the  wise  do  not  allude  to  them  it'  is  not 
because  the  hopes  were  dead  but  because  another  direction 
of  thought  absorbed  them-.  They  are  equally  indifferent 
to  the  claims  of  the  law.  But,  at  whatever  time  the  Leviti- 
cal  legislation  arose  or  was  codified,  it  is  certain  that  at  no 
period  was  it  observed  as  it  was  after  the  restoration. 
And  yet  there  is  no  allusion  to  it  in  the  Proverbs ;  the 
"  law  "  referred  to  is  not  the  ritual  but  the  ethical  law  as 
in  the  prophets ;  it  is  the  law  of  one's  mother,  of  the  wise, 
of  divine  revelation  in  general,  but  never  specifically  that 
of  the  priest.  In  Sirach  on  the  contrary  the  wisdom  her- 
self is  identified  with  "  the  law  which  Moses  commanded 
us  for  a  heutage  unto  the  assemblies  of  Jacob  "  (Ecclus. 
xxiv.  23).  The  truth  is  that  the  wisdom  is  a  direction  of 
thought  differing  from  the  main  line  of  thought  in  Israel 
at  any  time,  and  yet  a  direction  which  we  should  expect 
and  which  we  desiderate  at  all  times.  It  is  a  force  which 
was  disrupting  the  particularism  of  the  Jehovah  religion 
from  within  just  as  the  events  of  history  shattered  it  from 
without,  and  bringing  to  view  its  inherent  universalism. 
The  prophets  direct  their  attention  mainly  to  the  suite, 
and  they  appear  at  irregular  intervals.  It  is  when  the 
lion  roars  that  they  give  the  alarm  (Amos  iii.  8).  Their 
voice  is  heard  only  when  the  tempest  is  rising,  when  some 
crisis  in  the  people's  history  is  approaching.  We  can 
hardly  doubt  that'  the  intervals  were  filled  up  by  the 
operations  of  men  who  pursued  a  calmer  method,  such  as 
the  'wise,  who  were  the  "  reprovers  "  and  monitors  fre- 
quently alluded  to  by  the  prophets  themselves  (Hos.  iv. 
4;  Amos  v.  10;  Jer.  xviii.  18).  There  is  some  danger  of 
pushing  the  principle  of  development  to  an  extreme  so  as 
under  the  influence  of  too  ideal  a  conception  of  progress 
to  divide  the.  history  and  thought  of  Israel  into  sections 
by  drawing  straight  Hues  across  it,  as  Ezekiel  in  his  vision 
divided  the  holy  land  into  rectangular  belts.  No  people 
moves  forward  on  one  line  or  in  a  mass.  Alongside  of 
the  maiti  current  of  thought  and  progress  there  are  always 
minor  currents  running.  And  finally,  while  there  are 
many  proverbs  that  from  their  nature  can  hardly  be  placed 
in  the  period  of  the  'restoration,  there  are  really  none  that 
from  their  internal  character  require  to  be  dated  so  low. 
The  proverb  already  quoted,  "Where  no  vision  is  the 
people  cast  off  restraint"  (xxiz.  18),  must  be  contempor- 
aneous with  the  prophetic  period^  The  other,  "  My  son, 
fear  the  Lord  and  the  king  "  (xxiv.  21),  would  scarcely  be 
spoken  later  than  the  monarchy  (</.  1  Kings  xxi.  10). 
Many  of  the  references  to  kings  are  no  doubt  general, 
though  they  are  more  natural  under  the  native  kingdom 
than  at  any  other  period  {e.g.,  xvi.  12,  xx.  8) ;  but  such  a 
saying  as  this,  "  A  divine  sentence  is  on  the  lips  of  the 
king,  his  mouth  shall  not  transgress  in  judgment "  (chap, 
xvi.  10),  seems  to  take  us  back  to  the  more  ancient  days 
in  Israel  when  the  king  actually  judged  causes  inperson. 
And  undoubtedly  the  national  tradition  at  the  time  of  the 
composition  of  Job,  as  we  see  it  reflected  in  the  speeches 
of  that  book,  was  that  the  moral  wisdom  was  so  ancient 
as  to  be  of  immemorial  antiquity. 

The  questions  regarding  the  age  of  the  individual  collections 
contained  in  the  present  book  and  the  age  of  the  book  as  a  whole 
are  complicated. 

1.  It  i^  an  unfortunate  thing  that  the  headings  cannot  be 
absolutely  relied  on.  Such  headings  are  often  founded  on  tradi- 
tion, or  are  merely  suggestions  of  later  editors  or  collectors.  The 
heading  of  the  collection  ixv.-xxix. ,  "  These  are  also  proverbs  of 
Solomon,  which  the  men  of  Hezelciah  copied  out, "  does  not  of  course 
date  from  the  nien  of  Hezekiah,  for  the  word  "also"  shows  that  it  is 
due  to  the  editor  who  brought  the  collection  into  our  present  book, 
ill  which  other  proverbs  of  Solomon,  viz.,  x.-xxii,'  already  stood. 
There  ia  no  reason,  however,  to  doubt  the  historical  accupicy  of  the 


inscription.  This  collection  is  at  least  as  old  as  the  end  of  the  8th 
century.  At  this  period  the  proverbs  contained  in  it  were  considered 
and  called  Solomonic.  This  of  course  does  not  guarantee  that  every 
proverb  in  the  collection  is  by  Solomon,  though  it  guarantees  the 
antiquity  of  the  maxims,  for  the  individual  proverbs  in  a  collection 
will  always  be  older  than  the  collection  itself,  and  some  of  them 
may  be  of  great  antiquity.  The  term  "copied  out"  implies  that 
the  men  of  Hezekiah  confined  themselves  to  written  sources.  We 
have  little  knowledge  how  the  wise  conducted  their  operations. 
Probably  their  instructions  were  in  the  main  given  orally.  But 
small  collections  of  their  sayings  were  occasionally  made  by  them- 
selves or  by  others.  Several  such  collections  were  in  existence  io 
Hezekiah's  days,  and  his  scribes  gathered  them  into  one  book.  The 
usual  extent  of  such  small  codes  may  be  inferred  from  some  of  those 
embodied  in  cur  present  book,  e.g.,  xxii.  17-xxiv.  22,  xxiv.  23-34, 
and  XXX.  Thi."e  is  no  probability  that  the  term  "copied  out" 
implies  that  the  ..len  of  Hezekiah  proceeded  critically  and  made  a 
selection  from  a  large  mass  of  proverbs  of  such  as  they  considered 
Solomonic,  neither  can  their  collection  have  been  a  gleaning  made 
from  a  number  of  small  codes  after  the  large  code  x.-xxii.  had 
already  been  extracted  from  them.  They  can  hardly  have  been 
acquainted  with  x.-xxii.,  otherwise  their  code  would  not  have 
contained  so  hiany  duplicates  of  maxims  in  that  collection.  It  is 
certainly  not  improbable  that  Hezekiah's  collection  forms  the  oldest 
element  in  our  book.  Many  of  the  proverbs  contained  in  it  have 
the  stamp  of  antiquity.  It  comprises  almost  all  the  proverbs  that 
we  still  use.  Such  sayings  as  iron  sharpeneth  iron,"  "as  face 
answereth  to  face  in  water,"  "  the  dog  is  returned  to  his  vomit," 
"  bray  a  fool  in  a  mortar,"  phrases  like  "  heap  coals  of  fire  upon  his 
head,"  "singing  songs  to  a  weary  heart,"  "good  news  from  a  far 
country,"  "  the  curse  causeless,"  "  a  whip  for  the  horse,  and  a  bridli 
for  the  ass,  and  a  rod  for  the  fool's  back,"  are  examples.  Almosl 
all  the  proverbs  in  xxv.-xxvii.  contain  a  comparison^^and  some  are 
of  great  beauty,  as  for  example,  "an  earthen  vessm  glazed  with 
silver  dross,  so  are  fervent  lips  and  a  bad  heart."  TJie  youngest 
elements  in  this  collection  are  found  in  x-tviiL-xxix.,  which  ap- 
proach nearer  the  abstract  and  analytic  manner  of  many  of  the 
nroverbs  in  x.-xxii. 

2.  The  passage  i.  8-ix.  is  in  all  likelihood  by  one  author,  though 
some  of  the  individual  maxims  contained  iu  it  may  have  been 
drawn  from  foreign  sources. (comp.  vi.  9  sq.  with  xxiv.  30  sq.),  and 
does  not  appear  to  be  of  very  high  antiquity.  The  general  preface 
extends  at  least  to  xxii.  16  ;  but,  while  its  author  says,  "  The  pro- 
verbs of  Solomon,  son  of  David"  (i.  1),  a  new  inscription,  "The 
proverbs  of  Solomon,"  heads  x.  This  implies  that  i.-ix.  were  not 
considered  Solomonic ;  the  proverbs  properly  so-called  commenced 
with  the  tenth  chapter.  Several  things  point  towards  a  particular 
age  as  that  to  which  the  passage  tielongs.  (1)  The  passage  is  pro- 
bably prior  to  the  book  of  Job,  for  the  personification  of  wisdom  seems 
referred  to  in  that  book  (xv.  and  xxviii. ,  though  xxviii.  may  be  later 
than  the  main  portions  of  the  book).  The  age  of  Job  is  no  doubt 
uncertain,  but  ii  can  hardly  be  considered  anterior  to  the  exile,  nor 
yet  much  later.  (2)  The  descriptions  given  of  wisdom  taking  her 
stand  by  the  broadways  and  at  the  gates  and  addressing  the  throng- 
ing crowds  of  men  (i. ,  viii. ),  as  well  as  the  picture  of  the  strange 
woman  prowling  in  the  streets  at  nightfall  (vii. ),  suggest  that  the 
writer  had  the  idea  of  a  large  and  populous  city  present  to  his  mind. 
This  could  be  no  other  than  Jenisalem,  and  certainly  Jerusalem  before 
its  destruction.  The-  miserable  city  of  the  restoration  could  not 
until  many  generations  after  the  return  have  afforded  materials  for 
the'  ideal  before  the  author's  eye,  for  nearly  a  century  after  the  first 
exiles  returned  great  part  of  it  was  still  in  ruins  (Neh.  vii.  4). 
Though  the  author  warns  the  youth  of  his  day  against  disorderly 
and  violent  men,  his  references  to  life  suggest  a  condition  of  general 
comfort  and  plenty.  (3)  On  the  other  hand  the  personification  of 
the  wisdom  marks  the  highest  point  to  which  Hebrew  thought  on 
the  world  rose,  and  cannot  belong  to  an  early  age.  It  is  scarcely 
conceivable  except  at  a  time  when  the  operations  of  the  wise  had 
been  long  pursued.  Wisdom,  pausing  in  the  work  of  expounding 
providence  and  the  laws  of  human  happiness,  which  she  had  long 
instinctively  pursued  with  self-forgetful  fascination  in  her  task, 
becomes  self-conscious,  and  turning  her  eyes  upon  herself  displays 
her  own  graces  and  beauty  before  the  sight  of  men.  A  philosophy 
of  wisdom  has  now  been  reached.  These  facts  together  point  to  a 
time  not  very  long  anterior  to  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  possibly 
about  a  century  after  the  men  of  Hezekiah  made  their  collection. 
With  this  agrees  the  language  of  the  piece,  which,  though  generally 
good,  has  several  marks  of  a  somewhat  late  age,  e.g.,  the  fre(lnent 
formation  of  abstracts  In  -uth. 

3.  It  is  more  difficult  to  form  an  opinion  regarding  the  large  code, 
x-xxii.  It  has  generally  been  considered  the  oldest  coUect^n  in 
our  book ;  and  without  doubt  many  of  the  proverbs  contained  iu  it 

,  may  be  old,  as  old  as  those  in  Hezekiah's  collection,  though  othem 
may  be  of  more  recent  origin.  From  the  nature  of  such  general 
TnnYimg  there  is  little  about  them  to  suggest  one  age  in  preferenc* 
to  another.  The  grounds,  however,  on  which  these  prover»» 
have  been  considered  the  oldest  in  the  book  hardly  support  saalk 


I 


t*  R  O  -  P  K  O 


883 


a  belief     These  grounds  are  partly  the  form  of  the  proverbs  and 
Partly  the  nature  of  their  contents  compared  xvith  the  other  coUee- 
&      iu  form  the  collection  consists  exclusive  y  of  d.st.chs,  and 
nTa'rge  pai^  of  antithetical  distichs.     But,   though  the  d.st.ch 
mav  be  the  oldest  form  of  Tirovcrb,  the  inference  can  hard  y  be 
drawn  tht   all   distichs  are"  ancient ;   the  distich  continued  tl.e 
BrevaUin"    ype  at  all  times,  being  still  large  y  used  by  S.rach   «d 
FlWlTntwo  are  entitled  to  say  is  that  some  distichs  are  older  than 
:r , rove  bt  that  have  another  form.     But  many  of  the  antithoti- 
ca  dstSis   for  which  a   high  antiquity  is  claimed   a-e  probab  y 
comnarat  vely  modern.     Their  literary  style   is   too  hnislied.  and 
e?a"orate  lo  poLss  a  hi^h  antiquity.     There  is  an  abstractncss  lu 
them    and  an  artificial  balance   of  member  against  member  and 
W'atainst  word  which  suggests  high  literarv  culture  and  long 
use  of  the  arts  of  the  prove?bialist.     Further  the   extremely  pro- 
mfscuous  nature  of  tho'  collection,  the  repetitions  in  it,  and  the 
freouent  occurrence  of  proverbs  which   are   but  niodihcations  of 
S   are   poofs   that 'it   contains   elements   belonging  to  very 
d  ff  «nt    piriods.      The    conjecture   that    Solomon    himself   pu 
foth  any  collection  of  his  nroverbs  has  little  to  support  it      A 
all  evenw  neither  this  whole  collection  nor  any  part  of  it  m  its 
present  ?hape  can  have  come  from  the  hand  of  one  who  was  Ae 
Ltbof  of  auy  great  number  of  the  proverbs  contained  in  it.     JNor 
can   iL  piesent  confusion  be  sufficiently  explained  by  supposing 
with  Ewald  that   an  original  ancient   and   orderly  collection  has 
Tuffered    mutilation    and    fallen    into   disorder   through    repeated 
trai^criptTmi  and  strong  interpolation.     That  collections  of  pro^ 
verb,  w4re  particularly  liable   to  interpolatiou  appears   frona  the 
Septuagint,  Vt  the  incoherence  of  our  present  code  is  such  that  it 
m^t  hive  characterized  it  from  the  beginning.     When  we  find  one 
proverb   repeated  verbally  (xiv.  r2  =  xv..  25  ,  a  number  of  oth  rs 
Lving  the  first  member  identical  but  differing  in  the  second,  a.  d 
a^ain  a  number  more  differing  in  the  first  member  but  identical  in 
thHecond,  we  are  led  to  inrer  that  many  of  the  proverbs  before 
coming  inti  the  collection  had  a  long  history  of  oral  transmission 
and  cunency,  during  which  they  underwent  great  changes,  that 
like  defaced  coins  they  were  thrown  into  the  mint  and  came  forth 
with  a  new  image  and   superscription   to  circulate    again  among 
men,  and  that  the  code  as  a  whole  has  been  drawn  largely  from 
oral  sources.     While  many  of  the  maxims  in  such  a  code  may  bo 
very  ancient,  the  collection  as  a  whole  may  be  pretty  late.     Judged 
by  contents,  there  is  nothing  in  it  that  might  not  belong  to  tho 
prophetic  age  or  which  would  compel  us  to  bring  it  in  its  present 
form  below  the   exile.     Some  references    lu   this   collection    e.?., 
those  to  kings,  when  compared  with  similar  allusions  in  Hezekiah  a 
code,  are  thought  to  rcfiect  an  earlier  and  a  happier  tune.     The 
king  is  spoken  of  in  a  complimentary  way,  while  la  Hezekiah  s 
collection  the  evils  of  corrupt  government   are  bewailed  and  the 
misera  conlribuc,is)>lcbs  comes  to  the' front.     But   tho  argument 
that  proverbs  iu  praise  of  a  wise  monarch  "must  have  originated 
under  wise  monarchs  and  conversely  is  not  particularly  strong  ;  it 
tho  men  of  Hezekiah  had  felt  the  force  of  it  they  wou  d  scarcely  have 
set  a  number  of  equivocal  references  to  kings  at  tho  head  of  a  collec- 
tion formed  under  the  auspices  of  that  exemplary  monarch,      llio 
history  of  tho  monarchy  of  Israel,  both  north  and  south,  was  suHi- 
ciently  chequered  to  give  the  people  experience  of  every  kind  ol  rul«^ 
Solomon  himself  was  not  a  model  prince,  and  nelt.^er  in  his  nor  Ins 
successor's  days  were  the  people  unfamiUar  with  oppressive  exactions. 
The  references  to  rulers  in  all  the  collections  are  general  reflexions 
from  which  historical  conclusions  can  hardly  bo  drawn  ;   in  xix. 
10  tho  rise  of  a  skvo  to  rule  over  princes  is  spoken  ot,  a  tning 
unknown  in  Israel ;  and  similar  general  allusions  to  rulers  occur 
both  in  Ecolesiastes  and  in  Sirach  (Ecclus.  vil  4  sq.). 

i    There  is  nothing  in  tho  contents  of  the  email  collections  xxu. 

17-xxiv.  34  to  suggest  a  date  lower  than  the  oxilo  {cf.  xxiv   Zl). 

On  the  other  hand  the  despair  of  attaining  to  th^  knowledge  of  God 

expressed  in  ch.  xxx.  reminds  us  of  Job  xxviu.  and  Ecclosiastes 

and  tho  passage  may  belong  to  tho  post-exilo  period.     Tho  warning 

against  adding  to  the  words  of  God  (xxx.  0)  might  also  suggest  tho 

existence  of  canonical  writings.    The  section  is  marked  by  pecu  i- 

arities  of  language  and  manner.     If  tho  names  Agur  and  Lemuel  bo 

real  the  passage  might  belong  to  a  time  when  Israel  and  tho  tribes 

towards  tlio  south  began  to  coalesce.     The  alphabetical  poem  witli 

which  tho  book  is  closed  is  probably  not  early,  though  there  is 

littlo  in  it  to  suggest  any  precipe  age.     Ezek.  xxvii.  17  compared 

with  xxxi.  IC,  24  perhaps  shows  that  in  tho  time  of  this  prpphet 

Judah  did  not  yet  engage  iu  tho  kind  of  manufactures  mentioned 

in  tho  poem.  ,      .  .        ■•  -in 

The  general  heading  i.  1-7  must  bo  preface  to  at  least  i.-xxii.  10, 

it  may  extend  to  xxiv..  or  to  xxix.,  or  to  tho  end  of  t''" '''>°^- 

Its  relation  to  i.  8-ix.  is  of  importance  in  reference  to  the  date  of 

tho  collection  x.-ixu.     On  the  one  hand  it  is  probable  that  Iho 

1  The  statement  of  Ewald  that  tho  article  is  rarer  in  this  collection 
than  in  that  of  Hezekiah  is  not  supported  by  tho  fact.'< ;  on  tho  other 
hai-  tho  anticipativc  Aramtnnn  suffix,  not  found  in  XJ».  sq.,  la  com- 
oii.ii  lo  tlio  two  other  largo  codea,  i.-ix.  and  x.   ixiL 


preface  comprises  ver.  7,  "  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  ol 
wisdom."     Some  such  general  aphorism  was  necessary  to  clinch  the 
statement  regarding  the  uses  of  the  proverbial  literature.     On  the 
other  hand  the  passage  i.  8-ix.  could  scarcely  have  begun  abruptly, 
"  Mv  son   &c  "     The  general  aphorism  both  closes  the  preface  and 
introduce's  what  follows.     If  this  be  the  case  the  autlior  of  the 
preface  is    also  author  of  i.   8-ix.,  and  undoubtedly  the    preface 
agrees  in  style  with  these  chapters.     Ho  is  certainly  a  so  the  editor 
of  X  -xxii.      It  is  possible  that  he  was  also  the  collector  of  the 
proverbs  in  this  code.     In  any  case  this  important  collectioii  would 
be  anterior  to  the  exile,  though  it  is  not  likely  that  the  collection 
was  made  long  before  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem.     The  agree- 
ment  however,  between  the  style  of  the  preface  and  that  of  the 
iirst  nine  chapters  is  supposed  by  others  to  be  duo  to  imitation  on 
the  part  of  the  author  of  the  preface.     This  is  possible,  though  less 
natural.     On  such  a  supposition,  however,  tho  preface  would  bo 
vouu^er  in  date  than  i.  8-ix.,  and  the  conclusion  as  to  the  age  ot 
X  -xx°ii.  would  fall  to  the  ground.      This  collection  in  that  case 
mifht  be  later  than  L-ix.  and  contain  proverbs  of  the  post-exile 
period.     The  preface  refers  to  "the  words  of  tho  wise,    and  it  is 
probable  that  it  extends  to  xxiv.     Whether  the  author  of  the  pro- 
face  and  editor  of  i.-xxiv.  added  also  xxv.-xxix.  is  uncertain ;  the 
word  "also"  (xxv.  1) implies  that  this  independent  code  was  added 
when  x.-xxii.  had  already  received  a  place  in  the  general  collection. 
The  Scptuagint  version  exhibits  great  variety  of  reading,  and  has 
many  additions  and  also  remarkable  omissions.     The  additions  are 
usually  of  little  worth,  though  with  exceptions,  as  the  word    not 
in  V   16      Critically  the  omissions  are  of  more  interest  than  the 
insertions.     This  version  transfers  xxx.  1-14  to  a  place  after  xxiv. 
22 ;  then  follows  the  remain^ei- of  chap.  xxiv.    After  this  comes  xxx. 
15-^xxxi.  9,  then  the  code  xxv.-xxix.,  and  finally   xxxi.   10-31. 
The  obiects  of  this  transposition  are  not  apparent ;  but  the  etlcc.  ol 
the  changes  here  and  elsewhere  has  been  to  obhtcrate  all  traces  of 
other  than  Solomonic  authorship  from  the  book,  and  possibly  this 

Lileralun:—imVortant  commentaries  are  those  of  Schultens  M.  Stuart  Kwald, 
HltzirDemzsch,  Bevtheau(i-x.7.  /toii.,  Istcd.;  2d  ed.  by  Nowack)  Valuable 
on  the  tcv  is  Lksaido,  Anmerkmigcn  zur  Gricch.  aeberseuw^do-Pvoverbien; 
also  Devserlnck  /M(  SchoUen  (reprint  from  TI,eor.  TiJJs.,  1883.)  Works  on  the 
W^dom  m-e-Bruch  irfs/icils/Mrc  der  Hctracr  ;  Hooykaas  e..<rt W«.s  d-'-- 
L^ff^^i,rvandc"hhLd  onder  de  Hebrein;  Oehler,  Orundzxl^c  der  Altai. 

BBS  especially  the  valuable  scctr0.l.ln  Kuonen  s  Hut.  Krit.  Ondcnocl.    There  b 
a  special  treatise  on  xxx.-xx.'d.  9  oy  Muhlm  (*•  "■  "■' 

PROVIDENCE,  a  city  of  the  United  States,  one  of 
the  capitals  of  the  State  of  Rhode  Island  (the  other  being 
Newport),  and  the  seat  of  justice  of  Providence  county,  is 
sitii4d  in  41°  49'  22"  N.  lat.  and  71°  24'  48"  W.  long., 


Plan  of  Providence. 

at  the  head  of  Narragansett  Bay,  on  botu  banks  of  Pro- 
vidence  River,  and  with  Seokonk  River  on  its  eastern 
boundary.  A  nearly  circular  sheet  of  water  known  os  the 
Cove  lies  in  the  heart  of  the  city  at  tho  junction  of  river 
and  estuaries.  Tho  total  area  of  Providence  is  14-76 
square  miles.      On  the  cost  side  Uio  ground  rises  to  a 


884 


P  R  0  — P  R  O 


height  of  204  feet,  and  on  the  west,  where  there  is  much 
more  of  level  surface,  to  75  feet ;  but  both  the  sides  and 
summits  of  the  hills  are  occupied  by  dwelling-houses. 
To  the  south  lies  the  Roger  Williams  Park  (102  acres), 
bequeathed  to  the  city  in  1871  by  Betsy  Williams,  a 
descendant  of  the  founder  of  Providence.  The  best  known 
of  all  the  public  institutions  is  Brown  University,  whose 
spacious  buildings  (University  Hall,  Manning  Hall  Hope 
College,  Rhode  Island  Hall,  Sayles  Memorial  Hall,  Slater 
Hall,  &c.)  crown  the  heights  on  the  east  side  of  the  river. 
Originally  founded  at  Warren  in  1764  as  Rhode  Island 
College,  it  was  removed  to  Providence  in  1770,  but  did  not 
obtain  its  present  name  (tiestowed  in  honour  of  Nicholas 
Brown,  one  of  its  principal  besefactors)  till  1804.  By 
the  terms  of  its  charter  30  out  of  the  48  members  of  its 
board  of  fellows  and  board  of  trustees'^  must  be  Baptists, 
but  the  management  is  unsectarian.  In  1884  there  were 
20  professors  and  instructors,  and  248  students.  The 
library,  kept  in  a  fire-proof  building,  numbers  62,000 
volumes.  Besides  the  university,  the  city  contains  two 
high-schools,  the  Friends'  Yearly-Meeting  Boarding-School 
(1819),  the  Roman  Catholic  Academy  of  the  Sacred  Heart 
of  Jesus  (1873),  the  Athenaeum  (1836)  with  a  library  of 
over  43,000  volumes,  the  Providence  Public  Library  with 
nearly  32,000  volumes,  the  Rhode  Island  Historical  Society 
(1822,  present  building  1844),  the  Franklin  Society  (1823) 
for  the  furtherance  of  the  natural  sciences  and  mechanic 
arts,  and  many  other  educational  institutions.  The  Butler 
Tiospital  for  the  insane  (1844-47),  which  takes  its  name 
from  Cyrus  Butler,  the  principal  subscriber,  occupies 
several  handsome  buildings  on  the  west  bank  of  Seekonk 
river,  capable  of  accommodating  about  200  patients  and 
possessing  140  acres  of  ground.  Dexter  Asylum  (1827) 
for  the  poor,  with  39  acres,  the  bequest  of  Mr  Ebenezer 
Knight  Dexter,  receives  about  125  inmates;  and  the  Rhode 
Island  Hospital '(1863-68),  erected  at  a  cost  of  $450,000, 
has  about  80  patients.  Other  institutions  of  a  benevolent 
character  are  a  home  for  aged  men,  a  home  for  aged 
women,  a  Roman  Catholic  orphan  asylum  (1860),  and 
dispensaries.  The  State  prison  and  county  jail  used  to 
stand  on  the  north  side  of  the  Cove;  but  the  State  prison, 
the  workhouse,  the  house  of  correction,  the  almshouse,  and 
the  State  hospital  for  the  insane  are  now  clustered  together 
at  the  State  farm  in  Cranston,  about  3  miles  from  the  city 
line.  The  State  house,  which  dates  from  1762,  is  a  plain 
brick  building;  but  the  city-haU,  erected  about  1878-79,  at 
a  cost  of  more  than  $1,000,000,  is  one  of  the  finest  buildings 
of  its  kind  in  New  England.  In  front  of  it  is  a  soldiers' 
and  sailors'  monument  designed  by  Randolph  Rogers  and 
erected  (1871)  by  the  State  in  memory  of  1741  citizens 
who  fell  in  the  civil  war.  Worthy  of  note  also  are  the 
county  court-house  (1877),  the  I'rovidence  opera-house 
(1871),  the  Butler  Exchange  (1872),  the  arcade  (1828), 
which  runs  225  feet  between  Westminster  and  Weybosset 
Street,  with  a  width  of  80  feet.  Among  the  principal 
churches  are  a  new  cathedral  (1878-85),  St  Stephen's 
Episcopal,  the  First  Baptist,  erected  in  1775,  and  St 
Joseph's  and  St  Mary's  Roman  Catholic.  At  one  time 
Providence  carried  on  a  good  trade  with  China  and  the 
East  Indies ;  but  its  shipping  interests,  though  still  con- 
siderable,!  are  now  mainly  absorbed  by  the  coasting-trade, 
and  altogether  it  has  become  rather  a  manufacturing 
than  a  commercial  centre.  In  the  production  of  gold 
jewellery  it  is  one  of  the  leading  cities  in  the  United 
States,  and  the  Gorham  silver  factory  alone  employs  560 
workmen.  Cotton,  wool,  and  iron  are  all  worked  up  on 
the  most  extensive  scale  into  a  vast  variety  of  forms — 

'■*  The  merchandise  imported  into  the  district  of  Providence  was 

Tttlued  at  ^587,800  in  1884,  and  the  imports  at  S25,296  ;  59  vessels 

e. 864  tons)  entered  from  foreign  porte,  and  41  (6012  tons)  cleared. 


yarn,  cahco,  braids,  laces,  broad-cloth,  -worsteds,  steam- 
engines,  rifles,  sewing  machines,  boilers,  screws,  hinges,  &c. 
Among  the  larger  companies  are  the  Providence  Tool 
Company  (1500  workmen),  the  Corliss  steam-engine  works, 
the  Providence  Steam-engine  Company,  the  Allen  Fire 
Department  Supply  Company,  Perry  Davis's  pain-killer 
manufactory,  &c.  Altogether  there  are  about  one  hundred 
cotton  mills  and  sixty  wool  mills.  In  1880  the  value  ol 
the  cotton  products  was  $2,250,273,  of  the  wool  products 
and  worsted  goods  $7,139,947,  and  of  the  iron  castings, 
machinery,  &c.,  $4,757,401.  "The  growth  of  the  city  in 
population  is  shown  by  the  following  figures-: — 

1708 1,446         1810 10,071         1850 41,613 

1730 3,916         1820 11,74.'!  1860 60,666 

1774 4,321         1830 16,836  1870 68,904 

1800 7,614         1840 23,172  1880 104,857 

According  to  the  registrar's  returns  the  total  for  1885 
maybe  estimated  at  121,000.  From  1855  to  1883  in- 
clusive there  has  been  an  average  of  one  birth  in  36  •?7  of 
the  population,  one  person  married  in'44-21,  and  one 
death  in  5089.  The  value  of  real  estate  in  1883  was 
$91,642,100;  that  of  personal  estate  $30,854,400.  The 
municipal  revenue  was  $3,417,593,  the  expenditure 
$3,196,382,  and  the  debt  $8,142,223. 

Providence  ivas  founded  and  named  by  ICogef  \Villiams  tlio 
religious  refornaer,  who,  having  been  expelled  troin  Massachusetts 
in  1636,  landed  first  at  What  Cheer  Kock  near  the  mouth  ot 
Seekonk  river  and  settled  some  time  after  at  the  head  of  Providence 
river,  where  he  obtained  a  grant  of  ground  from  the  Sachem 
Canonicus.  The  town  united  with  others  in  applying  for  and  re. 
ceiving  a  charter  from  the  Parliamentary  Government  in  1643-44. 
It  was  partially  burned  in  King  Philip's  war  in  1675.  In  1788  De 
Warville  describes  it  as  decayed.  A  south-easterly  storm  in  Sep- 
tember 1815  raised  the  water  in  the  harbour  12  feet  above  the  usual 
spring-tide  level  and  did  great  damage.  The  city  charter  dates 
from  1832.  (W.  E.  F.) 

PROVINCE  (provincia,  etymology  uncertain),  in  the 
Roman  sense,  maj'  be  defined  as  the  department  or  sphere 
of  duty  assigned  to  one  of  the  higher  magistrates  (the  con- 
suls and  praetors).-  But  when,  with  the  spread  of  the 
Roman  arms,  the  government  of  conquered  countries  grew 
to  be  one  of  the  most  important  duties  of  the  higher 
magistrates,  the  term  province,  from  designating  the  govern- 
ment of  a  conquered  country  as  one  particular  dutjr  of  a 
Roman  magistrate,  came  to  be  used  generally  as  a  designa- 
tion of  the  country  itself.  It  is  to  province  in  the  sense 
of  a  subject  territory  lying  outside  of  Italy  and  governed 
by  Roman  magistrates  that  the  following  remarks  will 
apply.  As  distinguished  from  Italy,  the  provinces  paid 
tribute  to  Rome,  for,  at  least  from  the  time  of  the  Gracchi, 
it  was  a  recognized  constitutional  principle  that  the  pro- 
vinces were  the  estates  of  the  Roman  people  and  were  to 
be  managed  for  its  benefit.  Under  the  republic  the  con- 
stitution of  a  province  was  drawn  up  by  the  victoriou.'? 
Roman  general  assisted  by  ten  commissioners  appointed 
by  the  senate  from  its  own  body,  and  the  province  was 
henceforth  governed  on  the  lines  laid  down. in  tKis  con- 
stitution or  charter  {kx  provincix).  For  administrative 
purposes  the  province  was  divided  into  districts,  each  with 
its  capital,  the  magistrates  and  council  of  which  wer& 
responsible  foi:  the  collection  of  the  district  taxes.  For 
judicial  purposes  the  province  was  divided  into  cir<;uita 
{conventus),  and  in  the  chief  town  of.  each  circuit  the 
governor,  of  the  province  regularly  held  assizes. 

.  Cities  taken  by  the  sword  were  destroyed,  and  their 
lands  were  turned  into  Roman  domains  and  were  let  out 
by  the  censors  at  Rome  to  private  persons,  who  undertook 
to  pay  a  certain  proportion  of  the  produce.  Royal  domains, 
such  as  ,  those  of  Syracuse,  Macedonia,  Pergaroffifti, 
»  Only  those  magistrates  who  had  imperium  (military  power)  had  » 
province.  When  the  province  of  a  quffistor  is  mentioned  it  refers  t< 
the  province  of  the  consul  or  prretor  to  whom  the  quastor  w  subor- 
dinate.    In  famUier  language  any  busijiess  was  called  a  province. 


PROVINCE 


885 


Bithynia,  and  Cyrene,  were  also  confiscated.  On  the  other 
hand  cortiraunities  which  surrendered  without  offering  an 
obstinate  resistance  were  usually  allowed  to  retain  their 
personal  freedom  and  private  property,  and  their  chief  town 
was  left  in 'the  enjoyment  of  its  territory  and  civil  rights, 
but  all  the  lands  were  subjected  to  a  tax,  consisting  either 
of  a  payment  in  kind  {vecligal)  or  of  a  fixed  sum  of  money 
(trihutum,  slipendium),  and  in  some  cases  a  custom-duty 
{portorium)  was  levied.  It  is  to  this  latter  class  of  com- 
munities (the  chntates  vedlgalea  or  stipendiariss)  that  the 
large  majority  of  the  provincial  states  belonged.  In  a 
■  better  position  were  those  states  whose  freedom  was 
guaranteed  by  Rome  on  the  ground  of  old  alliances  or 
special  loyalty.  Their  freedom  was  recognized  either  by  a 
treaty^  or  by  a  decree  of  the  Roman  people  or  senate.  As 
a  decree  of  the  people  or  senate  could  at  any  time  be 
recalled,  the  position  of  the  free  states  without  a  treaty 
was  more  precarious  than  that  of  the  treaty  states  {civitates 
finderatx).  The  latter,  though  not  allowed  to  meddle  in 
foreign  politics,  enjoyed  a  certain  amount  of  internal 
freedom,  retained  their  lands,  paid  no  taxes,  and  were  bound 
to  render  those  services  only  which  were  expressly  stipu- 
lated for  in  the  original  treaty,  such  as  furnishing  ships  and 
troops,  supplying  corn  at  a  certain  price,  and  receiving 
Roman  officials  and  soldiers  en  route.  Amongst  these 
treaty  states  were  Massilia  (Marseilles),  Athens,  Rhodes, 
and  Tyre.  The  privileges  of  the  free  but  not  treaty  states 
were  somewhat  similar,  but,  as  stated,  more  precarious. 
All  political  distinctions,  save  that  between  slave  and 
freeman,  disappeared  when  Caracalla  bestowed  the  Roman 
franchise  on  the  whole  empire. 

Provincial  Diets. — Apart  from  the  government  by  Roman 
officials,  every  province  appears  to  have  had,  at  least  under 
the  empire,  a  provincial  assembly  or  diet  of  its  own  {con- 
cUinm  or  comimme),  and  these  diets  are  interesting  as  the 
first  attempts  at  representative  assemblies.  The  diet 
met  annually,  and  was  composed  of  deputies  {legati)  from 
the  provincial  districts.  It  arranged  for  the  celebration 
of  religious  rites  and  games,  especially  (under  the  empire) 
for  the  worship  of  the  emperor,  the  neglect  of  which  was 
severely  punished.  The  actual  celebration  was  under  the 
conduct  of  the  high  priest  of  the  province,  a  person  of 
much  dignity  and  importance,  perhaps  the  forerunner  of 
the  Christian  bishop.  The  diet  also  decreed  the  erection 
of  statues  and  monuments;  it  passed  votes  of  thanks  to  the 
outgoing  governor,  or  forwarded  complaints  against  him 
to  ]{ome;  and  it  had  the  right  of  sending  embassies  direct 
to  the  senate  or  the  emperor. 

The  Provincial  Governor. — The  provinces  were  administered  by 
governors  sent  direct  from  Rome,  who  liekl  oflice  for  a  year.  From 
the  formation  of  the  first  provinces  in  227  B.C.  down  to  the  time 
of  Sulla  (82  B.C.)  the  governors  wei"e  pra:tor3  (see  PB.sroR) ;  from 
the  time  of  Sulla  to  that  of  Augustus  the  pra;tors  remained  in 
Rome  during  their  year  of  olTicc,  and  at  the  end  of  it  assumed  the 
government  of  a  province  with  the  title  of  proprietor.  This  applies, 
liowever,  only  to  provinces  which  were  in  a  settled  state  and  could 
conseijuently  be  administered  without  a  largo  military  force.  A 
province  which  was  tlie  seat  of  war,  or  was  at  least  in  a  disturbed 
state,  was  committed  to  the  care  cither  of  one  of  the  consuls  for 
tlio  year  or  of  a  commander  specially  appointed  for  the  purpose  with 
tlie  title  of  proconsul,  who  might  be  one  of  the  consuls  or  the  pre- 
ceding or  of  a  previous  year,  or  else  a  former  prKtor,  or  even,  in 
rare  cases,  n  private  individual  who  had  held  neither  consulship 
nor  pro;torship.  Thus  the  distinction  between  consular  (or  pro- 
consular) and  prictorial  (or  propra:torial)  provinces  varied  from 
year  to  year  with  the  military  exigencies  of  different  parts  of  the 
empire.  At  the  close  of  the  republic,  however,  we  find  oven  such 
a  peaceful  province  as  Asia  administered  by  a  proconsul.  In  the 
earlier  period  of  the  republic  the  senate  either  before  or  after  the 
elections  determiiied  which  provinces  were  to  bo  governed  by  con- 
siUs  and  which  by  prictors,  and  after  their  election  the  consuls 
orranged  between  themselves  by  lot  or  otherwise  which  of  the 
provinces  nominated  by  the  senate  each  should  have,  and  similarly 
^with  tl;e  jirietors.  lint  in  order  to  guard  against  partiality  th" 
SemproniaTi  law  of  123  n.c.  provided  tiiat  the  senate  should  yearly 


nominate  the  two  consular  provinces  before  the  election  of  the 
consuls,  and  that  the  consuls  should  after  their  election  but  before 
their  entry  on  office  arrange  between  themselves  which  of  the  two 
provinces  each  should  have.  The  Pompcian  law  of  53  B.C.  enacted 
that  no  one  should  hold  the  governorship  of  a  province  till  at  least 
five  years  after  his  consulshiji  or  praetorship.  This  law  was  repealed 
by  C'sesar  after  the  battle  of  Pharsalia,  but  was  re-enacted  under 
Augustus  ;  it  severed  the  connexion  which  had  previously  existed 
between  an  urban  magistracy  and  the  governorship  of  a  province, 
and  turned  the  latter,  from  the  mere  prolongation  of  a  Roman 
magistracy,  into  an  independent  office.  Like  magistracies  at  Rome 
a  provincial  governorship  was  regularly  held  for  one  year ;  but, 
unlike  them,  it  could  be  prolonged,  formerly  by  a  vote  of  the 
people,  later  ,by  a  decree  of  the  senate.  The  Julian  law  of  Csesar 
(46  B.C.)  enacted  that  the  governorship  of  a  consular  province 
should  be  held  for  two,  that  of  a  praetorian  province  for  one  year. 
The  necessary  supplies  of  men  and  money  were  voted  to  the 
governor  by  the  senate.  His  staff  consisted  of  one  or  more  lieu- 
tenants (legati),  a  quaestor,  and  numerous  subordinates.  The  lieu- 
tenants were  nominated  by  the  senate  from  men  of  senatorial  raak  ; 
if  they  proved  incompetent,  the  governor  dismissed  them  ;  if  they 
showed  ability,  he  entrusted  them  with  military  or  judicial 
functions.  As  to  the  quaestor,  see  QujEstor.  Besides  these  the 
governor  took  with  him  from  Rome  a  number  of  young  men  of  the 
upper  classes  to  assist  him  in  the  government.  These  were 
known  as  the  companions  (comilcs)  or  suite  of  the  governor,  some- 
times, but  incorrectly,  as  the  praetorian  cohort  (see  Pr.etohiaj(S).' 
These  members  of  his  suite  were  chosen  by  the  governor  himself, 
who  was  responsible  for  them,  but  they  were  maintained  at  the 
expense  of  the  state,  and  under  the  empire  received  regular  pay. 
In  addition  there  was  a  crowd  of  beadles,  clerks,  couriers,  cners, 
doctors,  dragomans,  &e.,  not  to  speak  of  freedmen -atrd  slaves  for 
the  personal  service  of  the  governor.  Under  the  republic  the 
governor  was  not  allowed  to  take  his  wife  with  him  to  his  province  ; 
under  the  empire  he  might  do  so,  but  he  was  answerable  for  her 
conduct  Before  setting  out  for  his  province  the  governor,  clad 
in  the  purple  military  robe  of  his  office,  offered  sacrifice  on  the 
Capitol ;  then  immediately  after  receiving  the  imperium  or  military 
command  he  marched  out  of  the  city  (for  the  imperium  could  only 
bo  exercised  outside  of  Rome  and  was  forfeited  by  staying  in  the 
city),  preceded  by  his  sergeants  (lictores),  and  accompanied  by  his 
suite.  He  was  bound  to  travel  direct  to  his  province  ;  the  means 
of  transport  were  supplied  partly  by  the  state,  partly  by  the  pro- 
vinces through  which  ho  travelled.  His  year  of  office  began  from 
the  day  he  set  foot  in  liis  province,  but  the  time  of  arrival  varied 
with  the  length  and  difficulty  of  the  route.  Jn  the  hands  of  the 
governor  all  powers  military  and  civil  were  united.  He  commanded 
-all  the  troops  in  the  province,  and  had  power  to  raise  levies  of 
Roman  citizens  as  well  as  of  provincials,  and  to  make  requisitions 
of  war  material.  He  possessed  both  criminal  and  civil  jurisdiction  ; 
as  criminal  judge  he  had  the  power  of  life  and  death,  and  from  his 
sentence  none  but  Roman  citizens  could  appeal ;  as  civil  judge  he 
was  guided  partly  bj-the  charter  of  the  province  [lex  provincim), 
partly  by  the  edict  which  it  was  customary  for  him  to  issue  before 
his  entrance  on  office  (compare  Pr^tok),  partly  by  the  original 
laws  of  the  country  so  far  as  their  validity  was  acknowledged  by  the 
charter  or  by  the  governor's  own  edict.  Under  the  empire  Gams 
wrote  a  commentary  on  the  provincial  edict,  and  it  is  usually 
supposed  that  this  was  a  general  edict  drawn  up  for  use  in  all  the 
provinces  and  superseding  all  separate  edicts  for  the  different  pro- 
vinces. Jlommscn,  however,  is  of  opinion  that  Gaius  only  com- 
mented on  the  edict  of  a  particular  province. 

Condition  of  the  Provinces  under  the  Repuhlic. — Under  the 
republic  the  Roman  people  regarded  the  provinces  as  so  many 
estates  from  which  they  were  to  derive  revenue.  The  wcol  or  woe 
of  the  provincials  was  of  no  moment,  but  the  development  of  the 
material  resources  of  the  provinces  was  of  great  moment.  Hence 
agriculture  and  commerce  were  encouraged,  settlements  wore 
made,  roads  and  equeducts  were  constructed  ;  in  sliort,  the  Roman 
aimed  at  exploiting  his  empire  by  a  system  of  prudent  economy  as 
far  as  possible  removed  from  the  blind  rapacity  which  has  turned 
the  empire  of  the  Turk  from  a  garden  into  a  wilderness.  But  the 
Roman  governors  were  too  apt  to  look  on  their  provinces  as  their 
own  peculiar  prey  ;  they  had  usually  bought  their  way  to  office  at 
vast  expense,  anil  they  now  sought  in  the  provinces  the  means  of 
reimbursing  themselves  for  the  expenditure  they  had  incurred  at 
Rome.  The  annual  change  of  governor  w.as  thus  a  frightful 
calamity  to  the  provincials,  for  every  year  brought  a  repetition  of 
the  same  extravagant  demands  to  bo  mot  by  the  same  or,  as  the 
province  became  exhausted,  still  lieavier  sacrifices.  Redress  »»» 
to  be  had  originally  by  a  complaint  to  the  senate  ;  after  149  B.C. 
there  was  a  regular  court  estaulished  at  Rome  for  the  trial  of  cues 
of  oppression  (repetundw)  by  provincial  governors.  But,  oven 
when  after  much  trouble  and  expense  the  provincials  had  arraigned 
their  o]>pvcssor,  it  was  difficult  to  secure  his  condemnation  at  the 
hands  of  juries  composed  (pj  they  usually  were)  of  men  who  h^  a 
fellow-feeling  for  the  olfcndei  because  they  had  themselves  coth- 


886 


r  u  o  —  p  R  o 


iiiittcJ  or  hoped  for  means  ot  committing  similar  oflences.  BesiJes  | 
■  the  governor,  two  classes  of  harpies  joined  in  wringing  the  "Uter-  i 
most  farthing  from  the  unhappy  provincials.  These  were  the 
publicans  or  farmers  of  the  taxes,  aud  the  money-lenders  {negoLi- 
alores),  who  supplied  a  temporary  accommodation  at  ruinous  rates 
of  interest.  Botii  these  classes  were  reeruited  from  the  ranks  of 
the  Koman  knights,  and,  since  from  the  legislation  of  Caius 
Gracchus  (122  B.C.)  the  juiies  were  drawn  at  first  exclusively  and 
after  Sulla's  time  (81  B.C.)  partially  from  the  knightly  order,  the 
provincial  governor  could  not  check  the  excesses  of  those  blood- 
sucker's without  risking  a  condemnation  at  the  hands  of  their 
bretliren.  Accordingly  he  generally  made  common  cause  mth 
them,  backing  their  exactions  when  needful  by  military  force. 

The' Provinces  under  Die  Empire. — Under  the  empire  the  pro- 
vinces fared  much  better.  The  monarchy  tended  to  obliterate  the 
distinction  between  Romans  and  provincials  by  reducing  both  to  a 
common  level  of  subjection  to  the  emperor,  who  meted  out  equal 
justice  to  all  hb  subjects.  The  first  centuries  of  our  era  were  pro- 
bably for  some  of  the  countries  included  in  the  Roman  empire  the 
happiest  in  their  history  ;  Gibbon  indeed  fixed  on  the  period  from 
the  death  of  Domitian  to  the  accession  of  Commodus  (96-180  A.D.) 
as  the  happiest  age  of  the  world. 

Augustus,  in  27  B.C.,  divided  the  provinces  into  imperial  aud 
senatorial.  Those  which,  from  their  proximity  to  the  frontier  or 
the  turbulance  of  their  population,  required  the  presence  of  an 
•rniy  were  placed  under  the  direct  control  of  the  emperor ;  those 
wliich  needed  no  troops  were  left  to  be  administered  by  the  senate. 
(1)  The  senatorl*!  provinces  were  ruled  by  an  annual  governor  as 
under  the  republic.  Of  these  provinces  Augustus  ordained  that 
Africa  aud  Asia  should  be  consular,  the  rest  prsetorian ;  but 
all  the  governors  of  the  senatorial  provinces  were  now  called 
procoiisuls.  Their  powers  and  dignities  were  much  the  same 
as  they  had  been  under  the  republic,  except  that  they  had 
now  no  troops,  or  only  a  handful  to  maintain  order.  (2) 
The  imperial  provinces  were  governed  by  imperial  lieutenants 
(legali  Cmsaris),  who  were  nominated  by  the  emperor  and  held 
office  at  his  pleasure ;  all  of  them  had  the  power  of  the  sword 
{jus  gladii).  For  the  administration  of  the  finances  these  lieu- 
tenants had  procurators  under  them,  while  the  governors  of  the 
senatorial  jirovinces  continued  to  have  queestors  as  under  the 
republic.  Another  class  of  imperial  provinces  consisted  of  those 
which  from  the  physical  nature  of  the  C9untry  (as  the  AJpina 
districts)  or  the  backward  state  of  civilization  (as  Mauretania  aud 
Thrace)  or  the  stubborn  character  of  the  people  (as  Judsea  and 
Egypt)  were  not  adapted  to  receive  a  regular  provincial  constitu- 
tion. These  were  regarded  as  domains  of  the  emperor,  and  were 
managed  by  a'  procurator  (in  the  case  of  Egypt  by  a  praefect,  see 
Prefect)  nominated  by  and  responsible  to  the  emperor. 

Under  the  empire  all  provincial  governors  received  &  fixed 
salary.  Complaints  against  them  were  brought  before  the  senate, 
and  the  accusers  were  allowed  a  senator  to  act  as  their  advocate, 
Tlie  lengthened  periods  during  which  the  governors,  at  least  in  the 
imperial  provinces,  held  office,  together  with  the  oversight  exer- 
tiaed  by  the  emperor,  alleviated  materially  the  position  of  the 
provincials  under  the  empire.  In  order  to  keep  himself  well 
lafoimed  of  what  was  passing  in  the  empire,  Augustus  established 
K  (.ost  whereby  official  despatches  were  forwarded  by  couriers  and 
ofBcial  persons  were  conveyed  by  coaches.  The  post,  however, 
was  only  for  the  use  of  the  Government ;  no  private  person  was 
allowed,  unless  by  an  exceptional  concession,  to  avail  himself  of, 
it.  (J.  G.  FR.) 

PROVINS,  a  town  of  France,  at  the  head  of  an  arron- 
dissement  of  the  department  of  Seine-et-Mame,  at  the 
Junction  of  the  Dfirtain  with  the  Voukie  (an  affluent  of 
Uie  Seine),  59  miles  south-east  of  Paris  by  a  branch  rail- 


way which  rejoins  the  main  line  from  Paris  to  Belfort  at' 
LongaeviUe  (4  miles  from  Provins).  While  the  town 
derives  a  certain  reputation  from  its  mineral  waters  (which 
contain  iron,  lime,  and  carbonic  acid,  and  are  used  for 
bathing  and  drinking),  and  is  also  known  from  its  trade 
i.n  roses  (incorrectly  called  Provence  roses)  for  certain 
minor  industries  (such  as  the  making  of  "  conserves  "  and 
colouring  bonbons),  a  far  higher  interest  attaches  to  it  as 
a  place  which  during  the  Middle  Ages  enjoyed  great  pros- 
perity and  still  preserves,  in  proof  of  its  former  import" 
ance,  a  number  of  historical  monuments.  There  still 
remains  a  great  part  of  the  13th-century  line  of  fortifica- 
tions, which  makes  a  circuit  of  about  4  miles,  encloses  au 
area  of  about  300  acres,  is  strengthened  at  intervals  by 
towers,  generally  round,  and  now,  being  bordered  with  fine 
trees,  forms  the  principal  promenade  of  the  town.  The 
large  tower,  situated  within  this  line  and  variously  known 
as  the  king's,  Caesar's,  or  the  prisoners'  tower,  is  one  of 
the  most  curious  of  the  12th-century  keeps  no*  extant 
The  base  is  surrounded  by  a  thick  mound  of  masonry 
added  by  the  English  in  the  15th  century  when  they  were 
masters  of  the  town.  The  tower  serves  as  steeple  to  the 
church  of  St  Quiriace,  which,  dating  its  foundation  from 
the  12th  century,  presents  some  exquisite  features  and 
preserves  among  its  treasures  the  pontifical  ornaments  of 
St  Edmund  of  Canterbury.  The  palace  of  the  counts  o< 
Champagne,  some  fragments  of  which  also  belong  to  the 
12th  century,  is  occupied  by  the  communal  college.  The 
old  tithe-barn  is  a  strange  erection  of  the  13th  century 
with  noteworthy  fireplaces,  windows,  and  vaulting.  Vari- 
ous portions  of  the  church  of  St  Ayoul  date  from  the 
11th,  13th,  14th,  and  16th  centuries  respectively;  but 
it  is  in  a  state  of  great  dilapidation,  and  part  of  it  is 
used  as  a  fodder-store.  Ste  Croix  belongs  partially  to 
the  13th  century.  On  Mont  Ste  Catherine  opposito 
Provins  the  general  hospital  occupies  the  site  of  an  old 
convent  of  St  Clare,  of  which  there  remains  a  cloister  of 
the  13th  century.  The  population  of  the  town  in  1881 
was  6949. 

Provins  begins  to  figure  in  history  in  the  9th  century.  Passing 
from  the  counts  of  Vermandois  to  the  counts  of  Champagne  it 
rapidly  attained  a  high  degree  of  prosperity.  Its  fairs,  attended 
by  traders  from  all  parts  of  Europe,  were  ef  as  much  account  a» 
those  of  Beaucaire.  They  were  held  twice  a  year,  in  spring  and 
autumn,  and  fixed  the  price  of  provisions  for  the  intervening  taontha. 
In  the  13th  century  the  population  of  the  -town  is  said  to  hav* 
reached  60,000  ;  but  the  plague  of  1348  and  the  famine  of  1^49 
proved  exceedingly  disastrous.  The  War  of  the  Hundred  YeaT% 
during  which  Provins  was  captured  and  recaptured,  completed  tht 
ruin  of  the  unfortunate  town.  During  the  religious  wars  it  sided 
with  the  Catholic  party  and  the  League,  and  Henry  IV.  obtained 
possession  of  it  in  1592  only  after  thirteen  days'  siege. 

See  Felix  Bourquelot,  Hittoire  di  Provins,  2  vob.,  1840. 

PROVOST.     See  Boeough  and   Munioipautt,  aho 
Cathedral  and  UNiVERSiTiEa. 
PEOXy,    See  Peocioe. 


IND  OF  TOLUMB  NINETEENTH. 


For  Reference 


Not  to  be  taken  from  this  room 

STACK 


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